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So as most of you know, this was mainly a school project, although available for the world to see it they care that much. So straight to the point, this post is my last post here on this iteration of SmileJinzo.  To be honest, I did get to put a lot of effort into this blog and I didn’t really get to enjoy it cuz I saw it mostly as pain in the ass homework assignment. I tried to have fun but with the stress of the semester, just wasn’t gonna happen. So I will not be posting anymore on this here WordPress catastrophe. I also gotta admit that I felt restricted by the fact that this was technically an academic assignment. I couldn’t be the uncensored, vulgar, and sometimes offensive jokester that I really am. Maybe the word “couldnt” is a bit inaccurate…It’s not that I couldn’t, its more that I felt that I shouldn’t. Morals you say? No not really. More that I can get really crazy and I wasn’t sure that my university would permit it if they somehow found out from some snitching, overly sensitive student.

Wait… you did say “this iteration”? Wth do you mean you handsome man? Well let me divulge some tentative information…I do plan on starting a blog or website that in some capacity features comedy sketchs, posts, and/or standup. I had this plan before this blog was born. So I will be back in the viral atmosphere, just not here. So goodbye, farewell, thank you for putting up with my retarded humor and by all means….keep smiling.


It’s been a while since I’ve posted about something that I hate. This was supposed to be a series, not just a one post thing. But what can I say, its been a good few months…nothing to really hate…UNTIL NOW…I kinda hate ponytails. I know, I know…its not fair yea, maybe not, but its perfectly warranted.

SO I’m on the train, doing my New York City kid thing. Ipod on, lookin fly, waitin to get to my destination…I’m standing holding on to a poll just surveying the car and lo and behold I gazed upon a stunning beauty sitting down doing her New York sexy black chick thing. Ipod on, weave in tact (just kidding just kidding…it was real…I think…), sexy body, preety face, lookin scrumdiddlyumptious….My mouth almost dropped open but I was like na, aint no way I could bag a girl like that. I almost turned away but before I did, our eyes met, and she smiled. Word??? She smiled??? She sure did…that right there is an invitation. I gathered up my loins and got ready to scoop…

Right when I was about to, a lady standing near me intervened. This quite attractive lady had an obnoxious and overly long ponytail. For some odd reason she decided that this would be the PERFECT time to swing her head around as quickily as she could. And of course her ponytail followed like a whip…For NO intents and purposes, she whipped her hair back and forth (shouts to Willow Smith you talented little elf you). The result is that that behemoth of a ponytail whipped me in the eyes and effectively blinded me. The results you ask? Well let me break it down for you:

1. I let out an aggravated scream that sounded like, “Aahhhahrgharrr”

2. I was visually crippled for at least 1-10 mins

3. When I did get some vision back, I saw through watery eyes that Sexy Black Chick with a Nice Smile was gone…she apparently got off at the next train stop.

4. The crazy ponytail lady was looking at me as if I was crazy. Me!? Nooo…youuu’re crazy for having a long ass ponytail that hurts people. No one has been whipped like I had since Harriet Tubman was swiping Metrocards in the Underground Railroad…

5. I went to my internship at Jamaica Hospital, with red eyes and continuing to laugh at the stupidest things the kids I work with did…Long story short, one of my co-workers asked me if I was high, and many people gave me strange looks…

So in conclusion, I’d like to say thank you, bitch ass ponytail for ruining my chances with a hot girl and making me look like a pothead…but…I get the last laugh ponytails. You know why? Because at the end of the day, you make the back of a woman’s head look like a horse’s ass…

can you tell the difference?


Yes yes, I know it’s May, but I promise that this is the last portion of the April Fool’s Series.  What can I say? I’m a master procrastinator, its what I do best. This did take place on April 1st night but I’m not gonna lie, I put the blog biz on the backburner. Anywayz… let’s get down to business.

So the night of April Fool’s Day when I was staying at my co-worker’s house with a couple of my other co-workers, I played a lil prankity prank on my co-worker who was on that ill CPT (Colored People Time) and was o.d. late. Anyway, when she FINALLY arrived, I noticed that her car’s right rearview mirror was missing. It was at this point that the mastermind within was released.

It just so happened that we had some barbeque sauce from the chicken and pizza we ordered so I quickly snagged a good amount of that bad boy and ran outside as my homegirl was parking. As she pulled up to a parking space, I snuck passed parked cars and came up along her right side so that she couldn’t see me. I came up next to her right side rear and hit the trunk as hard as I possibly could as she was reversing and fell to the ground a. I heard one of the loudest screams that I’ve ever heard which went to the tune of something like this….OK…maybe I’m exaggerating just a bit, but still it was a gut wretching scream, I had to fight to keep my laughter in… As I lay there, I quickly opened the buffalo sauces and spilled then on the ground next to where my head would eventually lay so that at night time, it would look a bit like blood. (Yes, I know what you’re thinking and you’re right…I AM that much of a jerk.) I dipped my fingers in it too so that she could see the blood on my hands glistening under the NYC streetlamp (oh what a great line of imagery…I should paid to write lines like that…any takers????).

I lay there for a good while and listened to my homegirl’s hyperventilation (whoaaaa, college vocab alert!!! hands down the biggest word I’ve used all semester…for the vocabularily challenged, that means “heavy breathing”) steadily increase. Then I heard her start to mutter louding, “Oh ma God, Oh ma God. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuckington…” (“Wait til she realizes that it was her friend that she hit,” is what I was thinking.) She got out of the car mumbling something that I couldnt understand and came to my body, I tried to hold myself from laughing on the ground. I guess she came to my body (my eyes were closed) but I heard her shout, “NO!!! Greg!?!?!?!?….GREG!!!” She got down on her knees and came close to my face. I opened my eyes and turned my head slowly answering, “Yeeeesss????” the creepiest way I possibly could. Then followed with a smile. The look on her face was priceless, and a barrage of damaging punches to my body ensued…Injuries aside…the prank was well worth the trouble.

Osama Gems Cont.

Okie dokes, I’m back with a few more gems from my exploration of the world that is Facebook and this time, I’ve added some things from personal conversations and interactions. Osama is dead people, let the humor and cynicism recommencificate (lil Former President G Dubb Bush reference there…you guys see that?…Ah yes, I am quite the clever one.).

Gem #6

Facebooker Umar: “…Trump will come out of nowhere and ask for his [referring to Osimitysama] long-form death certificate as proof.” For those of you that live under a current events rock, here is the reference that my clever friend here is making Donald Trump Being an Asshole

Gem #7

Facebooker Shawn: “Halal gonna be $10 now with no free soda!!!”

Gem #8

Random Facebooker: “Osama is finally dead, they got the man responsible for September 11th.”

Slow Ass Facebooker: “I thought the man responsible for September 11th was Bin Laden???”

Clever Facebooker Otherwise Known As Me: “Are you kidding me? Step your primary terrorist knowledge game up. That’s knowledge that’s been available for 10 yrs, you’re officially a moron…”

Gem #9

Facebooker Deshele: “He ain’t dead!! For the next couple of fays I’m not taking no cabs…eating halal…no Dunkin Donuts…Nothing!!!”

Gem #10

Gem #11

Oh boy good times, good times…anyway, bottom line is this: Osama is dead…and I just got two much need blog posts out of this. Thank you Osama you dead, murderous son of a bitch.

Hello gentlemen and gentlewomen, this marks my 10th post on this here blog…a milestone appropriately honored by the news of el day. Seeing as EVERYONE is doing it, I figured I might as well too being that I don’t respond well to peer pressure… I am going to talk about Osama bin Laden’s demise, but I warn you, if you want you share of share of seriousness regarding the subject, here is a link with all the updates so you can get caught up courtesy of CNN (I think that stands for Cool News Niggas…):

That was your share of Osama seriousness, from here on out, we’ll be chillen and enjoying the humor of the world as they respond to the dead of one of the most notorious terrorists who also had one of the most epic beards in world history…Osama bin Ladizzle… Last night while watching CNN, I was also browsing Facebook as all us busy college students do when we should be immersed in educational bliss….*ahem*…yea….so I stumbled upon a few lil gems regarding our man Osama that I figured I share with you bloggers and bloggerettes.

Gem #1

Facebooker James: “He [referring to Osama bin Laden for the slow ones who decided to skip my earlier typing and get to the goods so that they could have something to say about the post and get a much needed comment on your classmate’s wall] lived a full life. Shot videos. Went YouTube platinum. Had 70 virgins. He did it his way.

Gem #2

Facebooker Daniela: “Damn there’s an Osama is Dead FB page already lmao”–updated 5 mins after Obama’s speech first airs

Gem #3

Facebooker Oscar: “Fuck that…someone call up Obama n ask him where Waldo is”

Gem# 4

Facebooker Jamaal: “How they got a V.I.P. section at the “Osama is Dead” Party on 42nd st?”

Gem #5

Facebooker White Guy on Osama is Dead Wall: “I bet the line to piss on his grave will be preety fucking long.

Ah….Facebookers, how I love thees….yes I said “thees”…More gems in a bit blogging world!!!

April Fool’s Part 2

Yea so I know it’s a little late but bare with me. For this post I bring you the second part of my April Fools Series of pranks/April Foolishness. This time around I prank a co-worker of mine who I have hanging with one night. A couple of my co-workers were staying at another co-workers house partying, drinking, and shaking our respective tailfeathers. Well most if not all of us decided that we would sleep over for the night, thus said gathering turned into a slumber party of sorts….As per slumber party rules aside from pillow fights, ice cream, and gossiping, the first person to fall asleep is the person who must suffer punishment for their lack of staying awake skills…Unfortunately for my friend, he became the second part of my April Fool’s Day prank…so here you go.

Let me briefly explain the after effects of my prank. The prankette woke up and attempted to wash the tooth paste off of his beard and hair…As we all know, when on adds water to toothpaste and applies friction, it begins to foams…This was the result. My friend had a head and beard full of foamy toothpaste. Another characteristic of toothpaste is that when it dries, it stains, with white spots…When ma dude woke up the next day it looked as if he had cum stains on his shirt and pants….ahhh good times

*Ahem* Chocolate Vaginas…

On a random note (as if everything on this blog isn’t random), I stumbled upon a great discovery one day as I left Soc of Media and arrived at the plaza. There was a table promoting a little something called “The Vagina Monologues.” First off, let me just say that I had no idea what that is…only that it has to do with vaginas and therefore females. (I know know that it focuses on female empowerment with  the vagina as a segway into that theme…see that world…I can be smart….shoutz to ma Wikipedia editors for making that happen…) A few things came to my mind that stemmed from my lack of understanding for this monologue for vaginas so bare with me…1. Why are there no penis monologues, I’m sure if vaginas got something the say, penises sure do too….2. Vagina Monologues…implies that vaginas can talk…what if they could? They would be some bitches I’d tell you that much…3…What are they selling??

It is this last question that caught my intrigue and ultimately my support regardless of what the Vagina Monologues were. They selling…and I kid you not…chocolate vaginas…Vaginas…made of chocolate….Chocolate…shaped like vaginas. I’m sorry but how fucking cool is that!?!? Essentially…this wonderous discovery took up a good portion of my day, here’s a video clip of some of that time taken…

Hello there blogging world. I’ve decided that after my preety busy April Fool’s Day aka April 1st, I would break it down and focus on each little joke/prank that I pulled throughout the day. Honestly, I wanted to pull a big ass prank the likes of which there would be no comparison buuuut…I’m way too busy for all that child’s play and what not. However, I do have the need to be an idiot every so often so I did get a couple people. So without further ado (always wanted to say “ado”), I give April #1, none other than the woman who gave me half her chromosomes, raised me, and taught me to be a little troublemaker…my dear unold Mother. (See that Mom, I didn’t call you old…Women are supposed to like that right?)

Let me just say off the bat that this April Fool’s joke was unintended but everything worked out in my favor. So, I’m on standby for jury duty and I was at work calling the number to find out when my date to go in would be. I guess I accidentally called my mother on my recent calls list when I was attempting to dial the number. In response, my mother sent me a text saying, “You called?” Now I didn’t see the first text because I was working in the stockroom at CM and quite occupied, so she sends another text 20 mins later again saying, “You called?” Due to my current situation at work I quickly responded with a text reading “Accident” meaning “it was an accident.” And that is wear the joke began. My mom responds, “Accident???” This is the part of the story where the lightbulb lights up above my head….an improv April Fool’s joke.

I called my mother with the most frantic voice I could muster:

Me: “Mom? Oh my God, there…um something just happened at work. Uh I mean someone…

Mom(keep in mind my mom is Jamaican): Greg-ry!? Wha appon? [What happened?]

Me: Um my co-worker. He um…I think he lost…I think I messed up this thumb. I think he lost a piece.

Mom: Ah? A wuh you ahsay? [Huh? What are you talking about?]

Me: Ok uh, we have this electric saw to cut display things or whatever for visuals. So my frie—so he–so oh God…so he was holding this piece of wood. And…I lost it, and there was so my blood.

Mom: Greg-ry! Ya mussa tink se mi a cunnamunnuh! [duno how to spell it but basically said: Gregory, you must think I’m an idiot.]

At this point, a couple of my co-workers who were playing around in the breakroom screamed loudly, for what reason God knows. Much to my delight and success of my ploy.

Mom: A wha dat!?!? [What was that!?!?]

Greg: He’s bleeding so much Mommy! [the use of “Mommy” showed that I was truly cowering]

Mom: Lawd-ave-mercy!! Greg-ry ya all-ways ah ramp. Mi all-ways tell ya fi stop play around but ya DOAN listen! [Lord have mercy!! Gregory, you’re always horsing around. I always tell you to stop playing around, but you don’t listen!]

Me: It was an accident Mommy!! I-I didn’t—

Mom: Wha appon if ‘im wan fi sue? We ave no money fi pay fi no DYAM finga. Oh Lawd! Ask ‘im if ‘im plan fi sue. Mi jus haff fi know. [What happens if he wants to sue? We have no money to pay for a damn finger. Oh Lord! Ask him if he plans to sue. I just have to know.]

Me (fighting the urge of laughter): Mom! He lost his finger!

Mom (mumbling): Jesus ave mercy pon us… [Jesus have mercy upon us…]

Me: Ight Mom. Mom! April Fool’s! I was joking, none of that happened.

Mom: Ah?

Me (laughing): None of that happened Mom, I was joking.

Mom: Wha? Mi erd ‘im scream! [What? I heard him scream]

Me (still laughing): No it was just a coincidence. The “accident” text meant that I called you by accident, not that “there was an accident.” It’s good to know that you’re most concerned about being sued. April Fool’s really lets you see that truth behind people hahahaha.

Mom: Bwoi…*sucks her teeth mad loud*…Ya tink suh ya a comedian…Bye.

Ahhh so thats how I got my mom on April Fool’s Day…whaddya think?

Hello world (particularly my fellow classmates), as you all should know unless you got stupid drunk and totally blacked out, this past Thursday was St. Patty’s Day!!! Yay Leprechauns…and pots of gold…and alcohol….and potatoes…yea!! So few of you may know that I am actually part Irish (seriously no joke). My dear late  grandpapa  who I had never met on my wretched father’s side (yes father, you are indeed a wretch), was half or part Irish or something like that. Regardless of how Irish he was, I do consider myself to be Irish and I celebrate accordingly on St. Patrick’s Day.

On Thursday I was decked out in some green kicks and a green shirt repping Ireland hardbody. I decided it would be interesting to see how different Irish people out celebrating would react to the idea of a black Irishman. So…I went to the best place to briefly interview Irish people on St. Patrick’s Day….a bar. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the answers on camera because I, being the smart guy that I am, forgot my camera. Luckily I was able to jot down some quick responses and get the first names of my drunk respondants. Before I start with the lovely quotes that I heard, I’ll say that I said this same phrase each time I approached a person. “Hey, whats up? What if I told you that I’m Irish?”

Person 1: Frenkalime….DRUNKEN TRANSLATION: Franklin

“Wait…I’m Irish and you’re black. But if YOU’RE Irish….then I must be BLACK! YEAHHHH”….[At this point, we shared a shot…I drank mine…he missed his mouth completely.]

Person 2: Katelyn

“Huh?” [I repeated my above mentioned quote]…Seriously!? Dude that’s like so cool. You’re like the Chinese Irish guys on those Starburst commercials…except you know like…you’re bla—…I mean African. African-American I mean. That’s what I should say. But yea…. Starburst… [Here is a link to a commercial to which she is referring]

Person 3: Guy who’s name I could not decipher even with my bilingualism in English and Shitfacelish…so I’ll just call him Seamus O’Connell.

“Ay…you can only be one!! One! You-did-can’t-say-mine cuz BLACK. Irish people love to have the red hair on top of they head. But YOU Du-rag and shit. FUCK it. Bitch with black it ok? I AM IRISH FOREVER!!!”…[After this clear waste of my time, I asked him to buy me a drink to which his drunken ass obliged. Patron margaritas are quite tasty…especially when you don’t pay for them…]

Person 4: Panther… [He thought he was clever calling himself Panther…refering to my African American heritage and my CLEAR connection to the Black Panther activist group…Yea…don’t you just love clever people?]

“HAHAHAHA!!! Get it? Panther because you are a black panther. HAHAHA!!!” [His friends joined him in laughter.] “So you’re black and Irish….so you’re like Blirish or NO NO…you’re Irack…You know like IRAQ the country. HAHAHAHAHAHAH! OK ok…so you’re black and Irish, so what do you like to do? Eat fried chicken AND potatoes!!!”…[Not funny Panther…not funny at all. Didn’t know it was possible for people to get less funny as they get more drunk…learn something new everyday…]

Person 5: Jesse (she was a girl)

“I should totally teach you how to be Irish, so you can teach me how to be a rapper. Like fuckin’ Lil Wayne and shit. Can you?” [My response you ask??? No…]

So that was the ridiculous response to my inner Irishman…interesting huh? Gotta say though, my friends and I got a preety good laugh out of that…Made some lifelong friends too…

Gold diggers…

The video I’m sharing with you all here is just a random moment spent with some friends in the Caf at Fordham’s Lincoln Center campus. As I bitterly rewatched some of the videos  that I’ve collected cursing my serious boredom and disdain for my inability to sleep (I have a very annoying case of insomnia), I stumbled upon this video whose ending brought something to my attention…I hate gold digging females…

“Woman are like buses…you have to pay for them to ride them.” YEEES YES, I know, the joke was made in poor taste and that doesn’t really express my mentality toward girls, just a bro moment people…nothing more. But it does bring to mind an interesting idea. There really are some girls that have that mentality. “Your money will be spent if you’re gonna be with me.” I’m not talking about working your way into women’s draws gentlemen out there, I’m just talking about girls who legit think that my money, is their money OR that my money will inevitably be their money…WRONG **INSERT EXPLETIVE HERE THAT IS EQUIVALENT TO “FEMALE DOG”**.

Tell me why I went out on a date with a girl recently and lo and behold, she brought a friend. A young boy by the name of Dyquan….HER SON. OK…so…needless to say, I was a little thrown off, but hey, I’m a nice guy…and it had been a while…a long while…So I decided, what the hell, we’d all hang together. It’s the least I can do since homegirl doesn’t know who Dyquan’s father is….sorry…cheapshot. Anyway, I planned to take them to the movies…She had other plans….By the time I looked around, I found myself in a Sears at King’s Plaza Mall. We spent at least 4 hours, shopping for clothes for the boy. (Who, by the way, tied my sneakers together when I fell asleep on a nearby couch in the store and caused me to have a very nasty fall…I know in 17 years, he’ll be in prison….Delinquent…) We finally get to the register and the woman behind it says, “Ok, you’re total is $489.78. Do you have a Sears card?” My date responded, “No.” At this point young Delinquent Dy-Dy begin to complain about something regarding urine and apple juice, so his mother turned to me and said the following: “Ima take Dy-Dy to da baffroom. You gonna take care of this?” I snapped out of my lack of interest at this point and said, “Take care of what?” And she said matter of factly, “Uh… the bill. You fuckin’ payin’ attention?” I responded, “No…I tuned out when you decided to bring your son, who you mentioned nothing about prior to about 5 hours ago, to our first date.” She of course answered, “Listen, nigga, I ain’t got time for this, just pay the bill so we can be on our way.” My mouth literally dropped. She wanted ME to pay the bill! Damn-near $500 worth of random shit from Sears. First of all, who the hell spends fuckin’ $500 on clothes at Sears anymore? Bitch, you better hit a thrift store real quick! Secondly, and most importantly, I didn’t even know her like that. And I surely didn’t give a rat’s ass about her son. Needless to say, I decided to let the asshole within shine through. “Listen, I’ve had about enough of this shitshow of a date. No way you’re gonna stick me with the bill when I barely know your ass and I know your dipstick son here even less. I’m out.” I began to walk away. She began to yell….”Whatchu mean you don’t know me!? We been talkin Greg, I know you.” I turned around, and shouted back, “What’s my last name?” She responded with a smile, “Harris!” I responded with a middle finger because it’s “Haynes” and that was the end of that, I booked it out of that store for fear that my middle finger would cause her to pull out a weapon and went home….Sooo the point of that long story was that I’m starting a list called Things Hazy Hates…first on the list….Gold digging female dogs…

Just to make this a lil more interesting…I picked a song from youtube that I think we’re all familiar with that goes perfectly with this story…Enjoy…