Several of my friends and I rang in this last Martin Luther King, Jr. day with some classic Eddie Murphy Saturday Night Live comedy. Hilarious stuff.
In one skit, Eddie Murphy is a grownup Buckwheat from the Little Rascals promoting his latest album, “Buh-Weet Sings.” Don’t know if you’ve ever seen it, but you should.
One of Buckwheat’s best songs goes like this: “Wookin’ Pa Nub in all da wong paces. Wookin’ Pa Nub.”
Buckwheat’s speech isn’t exactly smooth, intelligible or even coherent. Truth be told, smooth, intelligible and coherent aren’t the adjectives that describe my love life, either. Embarrassing, awkward and dysfunctional are better descriptors.
I guess “Buh-Weet” and I have something in common.
He screws up pronunciation, and I screw up love (not literally).
Take my summer ’04 love affair, for instance. I committed what I now consider to be a tasteless offense, and it turned around and bit me in the butt.
Her name was Prissy McManners, and she was beautiful. Her long, blond hair and soft features attracted any longing gaze, including both my roomate’s and mine.
For months we competed for her love and attention. We attended concerts, watched movies, went shopping and hung out together until I kissed her behind my roommate’s back. Harsh, isn’t it? It was a sneaky contest that turned ugly, and I ended up staring at it in the mirror.
After several months and a few make-outs, things fizzled. We both knew it, but neither admitted it. We struggled on.
Meanwhile, Donald Banksey, (not his real name) another roommate of mine, had just broken off a serious relationship and was on the rebound once again. His target: Miss McManners.
I believe the two are still dating, and have been for a while. Will we hear any wedding bells? I wouldn’t put it past them.
Anyhow, my colleagues and I at The Chronicle-in the interest of spicing up the paper a bit and making for a more interesting read between classes-decided it would be a good idea to publish those failures and successes, those moments of triumph and disaster from my love life that I’m sure all of us can relate to in some degree.
So I hope you’ll check me out from week to week on Mondays as I go Wookin’ Pa Nub, and that you’ll gain valuable insight from my experiences (or at least laugh at them).
Don’t worry about the consequences of interacting with me. Chances are, I’m just trying to make some pleasant conversation. And if you do find your story in the paper, be calm; your names will be changed for your protection.
As for mine, it’s up in the air.