Carson will be exiled and will join the tribe that loses the next immunity challenge.

So, anyone who knows me knows that in my normal life, I'm far from what anyone would call "professional". However, the way I stay professional at work is by looking at the signs around me that keep me clued in to the fact that I am at work. I notice things like the time, or the fact that everyone around me is either a lot older than me or a lot younger than me, the fact that no one around me is dressed like me, or even the fact that I simply don't work with many black people. All of this keeps my mind at alert to think "don't say exactly what you are thinking, or you will be fired".  Then, Wednesday as I'm leaving work, one of my student stops me and asks me a question: "why do you think there are so many young black men in prison in America?" The problem is, there were no signs to be seen!! This was an hour after I usually leave work, asked by an African student in his late twenties, wearing a t-shirt and jeans (basically, my not-at-work uniform) and speaking with a pretty American sounding accent. So naturally I said "man, it's that perfect combination of old white men making blatantly racist laws and young niggas being stupid enough to break them anyway."  It happened so naturally, I didn't even think about it. Needless to say, today on presentation day, the first thing out of this fucking kids mouth is "Today I'm going to talk about crime. According to our teacher, Mr. Chumbo Lex..." followed by a direct quote from yours truly. *sigh* I'm not going to have money to feed my children.

One of the reasons I never really liked going to church was given assumption that old people could do whatever they wanted. It was always presented as "you have to respect your elders. You say yes or no sir and yes or no ma'am". The reason I hated it was because, well, old people are fucking crazy. Everything makes them mad! If I get tired (because you know... it's fucking early sunday morning) they just slap me in the back of my head and say "boy, wake up!!" or if if I get a bit distracted from what the preacher is saying (because you know... I was a child) they would slap me in the back of head and say "boy, pay attention!!". All I could ever do was say "yes, ma'am" even though I was only doing the most natural thing in that situation. So, I stopped going. I mean, I'm a grown ass man; I don't have to take shit from nobody. So, today I'm in the gym going ham as usual. I just lifted the weight of like a whole African village or something, and I decided to cool down by running a half marathon on the upstairs track. As I am running, to my delight, I am surprised when spotify decides to play one of my old school jams that I haven't heard in hot minute! Of course I get extra crunk and before I know it, I'm singing along. So, I'm jogging along proudly proclaiming "I MAKE IT RAIN ON DEM HOES!!" and out of nowhere this old lady comes up behind me, and slaps me on my shoulder (she couldn't reach my head, short ass!). I take my headphones out of me ears and before I can say WTF, she looks at me and yells "BOY! THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE!! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO SING THOSE KINDS OF SONGS!!" With all the rage built up over 32 years of obedience, this was my opportunity. I stopped running, stood directly in front of her, looked at her dead in the eyes and said... "yes, ma'am"... and jogged away. I guess you take the boy out the church..

The thing about moving in with your girlfriend is that you learn a lot of new things about her that you can make fun of. For example, lately I have been making fun of her need to specify the use of everything. She’s all like “this is a dish towel, this is a face towel, this is a blah blah blah” to which I reply in my arrogant and sarcastic tone “hahaha… It doesn’t matter! Due to the anti-bacterial nature of detergent and the purifying effects of hot water, a towel is a towel. If I use it on my face one week, wash it, then use it on the dishes the next week, it’s all good. Don’t you believe in science? Hahaha” This clearly bothers her, which makes it all the more funny to me. So yesterday, after a good towel washing the weekend before, I see my girlfriend drying a plate using a small yellow towel. You see, despite what I said before, this towel DOES have a specific usage, and she knows this! I always keep this towel (and only THIS towel) next to my computer to clean up what I refer to as “auto-erotic messes” that sometimes occur due to my love of Internet cinema or "duo-erotic messes" that sometimes occur due to my love of her. So, as I notice her drying one of the 4 total plates that I own, I look up and instantly have a look of disgust on my face. Right away I get up, grab the towel, throw the plate into the trash can, and walk off clearly bothered by the incident. Her: “what’s the matter, don’t you believe in science? hahahaha” Me: “fuck science, don’t touch my towel. By the way, you owe me a plate.”

I've always considered myself a somewhat fearless person, never afraid of what may come to pass. Not only do I speak publicly, I've given entire speeches in front of hundreds of people about subjects I know nothing about. I purposely move into crime ridden neighborhoods because the rent is cheaper. Even when I go to the zoo, I always feed the lions... ALWAYS. So, when people tell me "hey, you're gonna have a kid? Keeping a kid safe is a big responsibility! You better be ready" I'm all like "ppfftt! Whatevs! I got this. No worries." I had the same uber confident attitude today I when I taught my first kids capoeira class. It was to 2 groups of elementary aged kids, and I was like "no worries, I'll teach them the ginga, a cartwheel here and there, and I'll blow their little minds in 120 minutes!"... or so I thought. The first kid to attempt the cartwheel did so by sprinting 5 feet, jumping about the same distance straight into the air, and diving head first into the ground. Before I could say "whoa!!! chill bro!", another 3 kids all did cartwheels directly into the giant yet fragile window to the right of me that I assume was load bearing. One girl just looked at the others cartwheeling and simply started screaming. One by one each of the 30 or so children did something that resembled what I assume cartwheels look like to a crazy person. It was as if they all had their own unique and extremely dangerous way of doing this simple move. I've never been so unsure of the possible outcome(s) of any situation in my entire life.  Eventually, I calmed them down and decided against doing anything acrobatic for the remaining 110 minutes. As I walked back to my car I thought to myself "starting in October, and for the next 18 years, I will be responsible for keeping one of those things alive and safe."... and for the first time in my life, I was scared.