Hello little boys and little girls.
The Prince is back....hold the applause.
It has certainly been some time since we last spoke but it is good to be back. During the hiatus, a lot of good has presented itself. I am currently enjoying the most wonderful season of the world; World Cup season. This is when I get to dust off the old cleats and shin guards, and wow spectators with my sub-par and rusty soccer skills. At times I believe I could be the next Lionel Messi or Didier Drogba, but then I remember actually playing soccer and realize how bad I've become and how it is probably better that I leave that sport to them and focus on Club SEBU. There's no one who can write a blog like me. I'm something like a King in the Blogworld. Maybe a Prince (pun intended). Furthermore, considering the World Cup only occurs every 4 years, I am exceptionally giddy when it arrives. Although the ending was a tad disappointing this year, I would like to take this time to gives some thanks. Thank you to Cristiano Ronaldo for the extraordinary skill to match his perfectly coiffed hair. Thank you to Ghana for lasting as long as you did. You made the motherland proud. And last but certainly not least, thank you Alexi Lalas. Actually, we should all thank him for, despite working with analysts with very strong accents, and unique cadences, being the only one who made little to no sense in all of his appearances and giving us all the hope of one day becoming a wealthy sports journalist in a sport that we clearly aren't as familiar with as some may seem. I saw right through you Mr. Lalas, but if it makes you feel any better, Alexi Lalas > kobe. Sorry, but that's just how the cookies crumble.
Another addition to my day to day life is M2. This is a crucial part of my individuality. What is M2 you ask? It is a movement. It is an establishment. It is a heartbeat, and the blood needed to operate eternal existence. M2 is a way of life as well as the name of my summer basketball team. Although we are going through some tough times as a team, I still enjoy every bit of it. It is only a matter of time before M2 takes over the world along side Mikhail Prokhorov and Team SEBU. 2012 will not be the end of the world, it will be the beginning of new generation. Nets Nation, M2, and Team SEBU please rise as we prepare for battle. You heard it first and have been warned.
Now that I think about it, give us until 2014 since the losses have become a little too familiar with us. But as always, we shall prevail.
Any who, on to the next one.
I also just finished my third week of my summer job. To set it off, I will inform you on what I do. I work at a local playground as a park instructor for kids ranging from the ages of 5 to about 14. Despite the minor adjustment of waking up each morning at 7:45, the weeks have been marvelous. Considering the days prior I was waking up around 10:30 everyday just to sit in the living room and accomplish nothing all day, I feel like I have made the right career choice. Not only that, I am having fun doing it. Nothing like killing two birds with one stone. (No birds were harmed in the crafting of this post).
As I sit here on my computer, I realize that my eyes are burning from the lack of sleep I have been receiving this week. I do apologize, but I will not give up on Club SEBU and should be posting for months, possibly years to come. In essence, I ask for you to sit tight and enjoy the ride. The Prince is here to stay. Like always thank you little monsters for your precious time. Until next time that wasn't me Rhonda.
Long Live The Prince
Friday, July 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Elbow Grease
As many of you already know, I am a versatile human, a character of many traits, a Renaissance man if you will. In my week home, I have harnessed another wonderful talent.
Fresh off of my freshmen year in college, no pun intended, my brother did not hesitate to put me to work immediately upon my arrival. Despite an ailing eyeball, I decided that I am a warrior and will be able to work just as efficiently no matter the current state of my vision. In actuality, I am STILL only tipping the scales at 160 lbs to my brother's 175 lbs, and felt that disputing his requests could end up bad for me. A hint of fear definitely drove my decision.
When I arrived at his Den, he directed me to the master bedroom and told me I would be applying a second coat of paint to the wall. He described the painting as a pretty easy task that shouldn't take too long. As he left for work with a smile on his face, I was eager to start working.
I proceeded to turn on my music and ready myself for the upcoming endeavor. Little did I know, I was no where near prepared for this. For the next 5 hours, I sat in an empty room filled with nothing more than an intoxicating aroma and paint splatters on every part of my body. What was supposed to be a relaxing yet productive way to spend my day turned out to be a disaster. To make matters even worse, I knew accepting this job had officially made me the Den's designated painter.
Although the circumstance at hand initially seemed horrible for me, I learned that my skills as a painter were unprecedented. I realized that I actually enjoyed painting now that I understood I was the MVP. Most Valuable Painter. I saw that my precision and accuracy was not only impressive to say the least, it was something I began to take a lot of pride in. I have become one with the paint brush and there was no stopping me. In 5 hours, painting has become my calling and another bullet on my resume.
If you had made it this far in my self-realization, you are probably, yet again upset with my ability to lure you into pointless and ridiculous stories. I cannot apologize since at any point this page could have been exited out. Why one would ever do that is completely besides me. Furthermore, I hope you enjoyed your stay at Club SEBU. It was my pleasure to host you. This should be a big summer for Club SEBU so stay tuned. Until next time, M2, it's a way of life.
Long Live The Prince
Fresh off of my freshmen year in college, no pun intended, my brother did not hesitate to put me to work immediately upon my arrival. Despite an ailing eyeball, I decided that I am a warrior and will be able to work just as efficiently no matter the current state of my vision. In actuality, I am STILL only tipping the scales at 160 lbs to my brother's 175 lbs, and felt that disputing his requests could end up bad for me. A hint of fear definitely drove my decision.
When I arrived at his Den, he directed me to the master bedroom and told me I would be applying a second coat of paint to the wall. He described the painting as a pretty easy task that shouldn't take too long. As he left for work with a smile on his face, I was eager to start working.
I proceeded to turn on my music and ready myself for the upcoming endeavor. Little did I know, I was no where near prepared for this. For the next 5 hours, I sat in an empty room filled with nothing more than an intoxicating aroma and paint splatters on every part of my body. What was supposed to be a relaxing yet productive way to spend my day turned out to be a disaster. To make matters even worse, I knew accepting this job had officially made me the Den's designated painter.
Although the circumstance at hand initially seemed horrible for me, I learned that my skills as a painter were unprecedented. I realized that I actually enjoyed painting now that I understood I was the MVP. Most Valuable Painter. I saw that my precision and accuracy was not only impressive to say the least, it was something I began to take a lot of pride in. I have become one with the paint brush and there was no stopping me. In 5 hours, painting has become my calling and another bullet on my resume.
If you had made it this far in my self-realization, you are probably, yet again upset with my ability to lure you into pointless and ridiculous stories. I cannot apologize since at any point this page could have been exited out. Why one would ever do that is completely besides me. Furthermore, I hope you enjoyed your stay at Club SEBU. It was my pleasure to host you. This should be a big summer for Club SEBU so stay tuned. Until next time, M2, it's a way of life.
Long Live The Prince
Friday, May 7, 2010
Allow me to reintroduce myself
My name is Prince. Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years. I'd like to welcome all my monsters back to the hottest spot on the block, Club SEBU. I have finished classes, finals and my first year of college, so now I can channel my energy back into the important things of life.
Before we get it started, I'd like to apologize for the unannounced departure from the game. Like the World's best connoisseurs (Michael Jordan, Jay-Z, Eminem, Dave Chappelle, etc), sometimes a brief retirement is needed to rejuvenate our craft. But don't you worry, the Prince is back and here to stay.
In my time away, a lot has changed with me. I would like to use this post as a reintroduction of the one and only; new and improved; the oh so daring artist currently known as Prince. Although I still stand at 6'0" and still weigh in as the skinniest man on the track and field team (allegedly), I have finally decided to take a larger step into adulthood and decided to grow out a full functioning man beard. Now I know it is devastating and shocking to hear that this adorable baby-face has been invaded by hair in the chin region, but all I can tell you is that it is Human Nature, and it was going to happen eventually. For those of you who are really uncomfortable with the new me, don't worry, I like to keep my beard to a modest 10 -15 (depending on how many I count) strands of hair as a tool to make this transition a little smoother. I hope you appreciate this gesture.
Furthermore, I'd like to elaborate on a statement made earlier. It read, in reference to my appearance, "still weigh in as the skinniest man on the track and field team (allegedly)" (Allow me to reintroduce myself). I am sure you are wondering why I parenthesized 'allegedly', in what seems to be an obviously true statement. Here's where I strike you with some knowledge. In the eyes of the team, I am the skinniest, but through my eyes, I have past that stage of life and am just inches away from LeBron James status. This is because I look deeper than the skin for I am not shallow. It took me some time to realize the truth, but I now understand that the "skinny Prince" is nothing but a mere illusion of the mind. I forgive those who have yet to see the light, better yet, see the weight.
What else is new? Well since you asked, I will share. I am 19 years old now as of April 8th, 2010. Hard to believe, but I am less than a year away from being a 20 year old. Scary thought. Unfortunately, my birthday was a disappointing for the 19th year in a row. Each year, I have tried to use my birthday as a tool to push me forward in my efforts to becoming the King. I try to get people to understand how grand my reign would be, but each year my totalitarian motives are discouraged. Besides that, I am always told "Richie, you know your brother is King". After the SEBU-lympics 2010, they will be singing a new tune. Until then I will continue to sing along with Simba, as I just can't wait to be King.
It was nice to waste time with you again. As much as you missed me, I missed you monsters more. Actually you probably did miss me more, but that's for another blog. This really wasn't anything too flashy, but you monsters have been waiting for some time, and I just wanted to deliver a little bit of that addicting funk. As I listen to my Lauryn Hill, and boil some hot water for my next posts, I ask that you get down with your bad self in honor of the resurrection of the finest Club in the universe. I give you my hand to hold as we plunge into a bath of marvelous stories and scenarios that have changed the face of the blogging World. Haw, Be Ready. Hope you enjoy, and until next time, rhythm is a dancer, it's the soul's companion.
Long Live The Prince
Before we get it started, I'd like to apologize for the unannounced departure from the game. Like the World's best connoisseurs (Michael Jordan, Jay-Z, Eminem, Dave Chappelle, etc), sometimes a brief retirement is needed to rejuvenate our craft. But don't you worry, the Prince is back and here to stay.
In my time away, a lot has changed with me. I would like to use this post as a reintroduction of the one and only; new and improved; the oh so daring artist currently known as Prince. Although I still stand at 6'0" and still weigh in as the skinniest man on the track and field team (allegedly), I have finally decided to take a larger step into adulthood and decided to grow out a full functioning man beard. Now I know it is devastating and shocking to hear that this adorable baby-face has been invaded by hair in the chin region, but all I can tell you is that it is Human Nature, and it was going to happen eventually. For those of you who are really uncomfortable with the new me, don't worry, I like to keep my beard to a modest 10 -15 (depending on how many I count) strands of hair as a tool to make this transition a little smoother. I hope you appreciate this gesture.
Furthermore, I'd like to elaborate on a statement made earlier. It read, in reference to my appearance, "still weigh in as the skinniest man on the track and field team (allegedly)" (Allow me to reintroduce myself). I am sure you are wondering why I parenthesized 'allegedly', in what seems to be an obviously true statement. Here's where I strike you with some knowledge. In the eyes of the team, I am the skinniest, but through my eyes, I have past that stage of life and am just inches away from LeBron James status. This is because I look deeper than the skin for I am not shallow. It took me some time to realize the truth, but I now understand that the "skinny Prince" is nothing but a mere illusion of the mind. I forgive those who have yet to see the light, better yet, see the weight.
What else is new? Well since you asked, I will share. I am 19 years old now as of April 8th, 2010. Hard to believe, but I am less than a year away from being a 20 year old. Scary thought. Unfortunately, my birthday was a disappointing for the 19th year in a row. Each year, I have tried to use my birthday as a tool to push me forward in my efforts to becoming the King. I try to get people to understand how grand my reign would be, but each year my totalitarian motives are discouraged. Besides that, I am always told "Richie, you know your brother is King". After the SEBU-lympics 2010, they will be singing a new tune. Until then I will continue to sing along with Simba, as I just can't wait to be King.
It was nice to waste time with you again. As much as you missed me, I missed you monsters more. Actually you probably did miss me more, but that's for another blog. This really wasn't anything too flashy, but you monsters have been waiting for some time, and I just wanted to deliver a little bit of that addicting funk. As I listen to my Lauryn Hill, and boil some hot water for my next posts, I ask that you get down with your bad self in honor of the resurrection of the finest Club in the universe. I give you my hand to hold as we plunge into a bath of marvelous stories and scenarios that have changed the face of the blogging World. Haw, Be Ready. Hope you enjoy, and until next time, rhythm is a dancer, it's the soul's companion.
Long Live The Prince
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Mirror, mirror on the wall...
...who is the Boogiest of them all?
In a landslide, unanimous decision, Divine "Boogey-D" Sebuharara wins. Congrats but this is not the substance of this post. This is in regard to the Summer of 2010.
SEBU-lympics.
Recently, the Javelin specialist, Boogey-D expressed to me that in a Javelin throwing contest she would not only beat me, but she would make it look easy doing it. At the time the statement served as a good laugh, but later on developed a rage within me.
As you may already know, there is nothing I love more than knocking off SEBU's in various competitions to fuel my dominance as the superior SEBU. Quite frankly, Boogey-D does not understand my determination. She will learn.
After I demolish you Buffalonians' proclaimed King, LaJuic, in the 100- and 200-meter dashes and happy feet my way to the finish line, I will smash Boogey-D in our Javelin head to head. Leaving everything on the field and showing nothing more than an innocent smile, I will simply tell her "I told you".
At this point, you all probably assume that I am arrogant, cocky, and an egomaniac. I won't say that I am not, but I will say that I am merely stating the facts and will prove it once and for all come the 2010 SEBU-lympics. Boogey-D: feel free to back down now, just as your brother most likely will, when he sees my Asafa Powell like explosion out of the blocks followed by Usain-esque speed and composure throughout the race. If not, you should understand that I will NOT let you win, and will more than likely try to embarrass you. All is fair in love and winning.
You can have academics and modeling, but in the SEBU household, athletics is mine and I will do anything to take that crown.
Punch your tickets now my little monsters. It will be a show indeed. I just hope my siblings don't mind wearing silver. Until next time call me rude boy.
Long Live The Prince
In a landslide, unanimous decision, Divine "Boogey-D" Sebuharara wins. Congrats but this is not the substance of this post. This is in regard to the Summer of 2010.
SEBU-lympics.
Recently, the Javelin specialist, Boogey-D expressed to me that in a Javelin throwing contest she would not only beat me, but she would make it look easy doing it. At the time the statement served as a good laugh, but later on developed a rage within me.
As you may already know, there is nothing I love more than knocking off SEBU's in various competitions to fuel my dominance as the superior SEBU. Quite frankly, Boogey-D does not understand my determination. She will learn.
After I demolish you Buffalonians' proclaimed King, LaJuic, in the 100- and 200-meter dashes and happy feet my way to the finish line, I will smash Boogey-D in our Javelin head to head. Leaving everything on the field and showing nothing more than an innocent smile, I will simply tell her "I told you".
At this point, you all probably assume that I am arrogant, cocky, and an egomaniac. I won't say that I am not, but I will say that I am merely stating the facts and will prove it once and for all come the 2010 SEBU-lympics. Boogey-D: feel free to back down now, just as your brother most likely will, when he sees my Asafa Powell like explosion out of the blocks followed by Usain-esque speed and composure throughout the race. If not, you should understand that I will NOT let you win, and will more than likely try to embarrass you. All is fair in love and winning.
You can have academics and modeling, but in the SEBU household, athletics is mine and I will do anything to take that crown.
Punch your tickets now my little monsters. It will be a show indeed. I just hope my siblings don't mind wearing silver. Until next time call me rude boy.
Long Live The Prince
Daddy's Home
Welcome back fans. Sorry for the lack of posts lately, but I'm here to save the world again.
If you can't tell by my excessive Facebook status changes, I am back in Vestal. Home of the Prince. I arrived home last Friday and was welcomed by my loving family, the ones who were home at least, (shout outs to The Lord of Darkness and Mama Andrea), and a task set by my brother. I didn't initially know what the task was, yet my brother lured me in to accepting it with a nice romantic dinner at Nirchi's Pizzeria.
He asked me ever so nicely to aid him in shoveling his driveway. Vestal had endured a healthy snow storm, and I felt obligated to help in its reconstruction. He gave no details and I said I'd help.
Despite my always hungry 160 lbs frame, clearly I had bit off way more than I can chew in the waist high driveway snow. As my mother and I switched shovel shifts, my brother watched on contently, basking in the glory of yet again outsmarting me. Feeling bad for my mother, I let her sit in the car as I shoveled away the snow. An hour had past, and I had not completed any more than a 8 by 2 foot path, surrounded by a much larger snow-filled driveway. Did I finish the driveway you ask? Absolutely not. A riot was necessary. I was no longer going be regarded as a work horse by all the neighbors looking and laughing. I threw the shovel and said enough was enough. My brother would have to deal with it himself.
Actually a family friend came by and informed us that he would not mind clearing the driveway out with a big truck otherwise known as a Backhoe. Such a kind man. Bless his heart, although he interfered with my most recent boycott attempt.
When I got into the house, my brother once again tricked me into doing more busy work. This time he played an array of Michael Jackson, Lady GaGa and Madonna music, and let the rhythm soak into my skin throughout my bloodstream. Once the funk hit my nervous system, I was indulged in its fury and experienced the natural high, more commonly know as "The Gushie Stuff". Out of my element and getting my dance on, my brother instructed me to help take down "wallpapes". As he stripped wall after wall and laughed at my misfortune, I began to realize that this break that the University at Buffalo gave me has turned into a experiment for The Bad Guy (my brother) and I was the primary lab rat. Just to give you an idea of how difficult it was, my brother cleared an accumulative 1 whole wall before I completed 6 inches of "wallpapes". Embarrassing, I know.
This is me working under the supervision and nurturing care of Mama Andrea.
If you can't tell by my excessive Facebook status changes, I am back in Vestal. Home of the Prince. I arrived home last Friday and was welcomed by my loving family, the ones who were home at least, (shout outs to The Lord of Darkness and Mama Andrea), and a task set by my brother. I didn't initially know what the task was, yet my brother lured me in to accepting it with a nice romantic dinner at Nirchi's Pizzeria.
He asked me ever so nicely to aid him in shoveling his driveway. Vestal had endured a healthy snow storm, and I felt obligated to help in its reconstruction. He gave no details and I said I'd help.
Despite my always hungry 160 lbs frame, clearly I had bit off way more than I can chew in the waist high driveway snow. As my mother and I switched shovel shifts, my brother watched on contently, basking in the glory of yet again outsmarting me. Feeling bad for my mother, I let her sit in the car as I shoveled away the snow. An hour had past, and I had not completed any more than a 8 by 2 foot path, surrounded by a much larger snow-filled driveway. Did I finish the driveway you ask? Absolutely not. A riot was necessary. I was no longer going be regarded as a work horse by all the neighbors looking and laughing. I threw the shovel and said enough was enough. My brother would have to deal with it himself.Actually a family friend came by and informed us that he would not mind clearing the driveway out with a big truck otherwise known as a Backhoe. Such a kind man. Bless his heart, although he interfered with my most recent boycott attempt.
When I got into the house, my brother once again tricked me into doing more busy work. This time he played an array of Michael Jackson, Lady GaGa and Madonna music, and let the rhythm soak into my skin throughout my bloodstream. Once the funk hit my nervous system, I was indulged in its fury and experienced the natural high, more commonly know as "The Gushie Stuff". Out of my element and getting my dance on, my brother instructed me to help take down "wallpapes". As he stripped wall after wall and laughed at my misfortune, I began to realize that this break that the University at Buffalo gave me has turned into a experiment for The Bad Guy (my brother) and I was the primary lab rat. Just to give you an idea of how difficult it was, my brother cleared an accumulative 1 whole wall before I completed 6 inches of "wallpapes". Embarrassing, I know.
This is me working under the supervision and nurturing care of Mama Andrea.
The Villain.
As you can see, my time here in Vestal has been filled with jobs, duties, and tasks. Although it has been difficult and humiliating to be continually outsmarted by The Bad Guy, time with the family is what I live for. After all the snow in my shoes and paper cuts on my fingers, I still know that the minute I wake up Sunday and prepare to go back to Buffalo, I will miss Vestal. Hopefully when I come back next time, I will be the one to outsmart and embarrass my brother. I hope he's ready. Until next time get into the groove.
Long Live The Prince
Long Live The Prince
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