One of my homeboys told me that posting all this “crap” about my girl was annoying. Wait until he sees this…
[The music is Charles Cameron's "I'll Never Stop Loving You" from Darius and Nina's first date in Love Jones]
One of my homeboys told me that posting all this “crap” about my girl was annoying. Wait until he sees this…
A few photos of Najwa on Christmas morning…
A group photo of most of us at Multivision, Inc. during our holiday party…


The lady and I were riding through Eckington, feeling out the neighborhood as we prepare to purchase a home [eventually], and came across this yard. Now who wouldn’t want to be neighbors with this person?

The Hand is a sculpture commissioned by Vincent DeForest in 1968 in celebration of the African American struggle for civil rights:
The sculpture was commissioned by activist Vincent DeForest in 1968 to become the centerpiece of an historical mural celebrating the African American struggle for civil rights; the hand and mural together were intended to be part of the Poor People’s Campaign that year. DeForest was a leader in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) and wanted to use art as a means to tell the story of African American history.
The mural was composed of panels representing aspects of civil rights struggles, and was erected as part of “Resurrection City” here in Washington. Coming first in May 1968, over 7,000 protesters were living on the Mall when the police tore down the encampment on June 19 and removed everything – including the murals – from the area. The Hand had not yet been installed.
All materials from “Resurrection City” had been hauled to Ft. Belvoir and DeForest managed to rescue the panels and store them safely. These panels are now hanging inside HSW as part of the exhibition Riots are the Language of the Unheard which focuses on events of 1968 here in Washington. DeForest kept The Hand for decades at his home. When he and his family left Washington in the 1990s, DeForest moved The Hand to an alley garden near his former home in Takoma, DC.
In preparation for the 1968-focused exhibition, HSW Executive Director Sandy Bellamy contacted DeForest because she knew he had later worked for the National Park Service and had focused on the preservation of African American landmarks. When she learned that The Hand and the murals were still in Washington she sought permission to include them in the exhibition. The Hand was overgrown and rarely seen in its alley home, now in front of HSW, it is admired every day.
Though everything in me wanted to do something in The District, Nduku had never been to the National Harbor in PG County, so off we went. I’m not the biggest fan of it, perhaps because they took The Awakening away from DC, but it definitely has character.
Compared to the other “Occupy _________,” this one is more like “Take Up Some Space Fayetteville.” Hey, I give them credit for at least setting up camp and making a statement…


It’s amazing how after all these years, this is the first time I actually visited Fayetteville’s only landmark — the Markethouse. Probably because back in the day it was where they sold slaves, but still. I called a couple of my people and they all not only mentioned they never visited it, but they asked why I was there.
Regardless, we took Najwa downtown Fayetteville, NC, where there was a little festival and people walking around in character to Dickens’ Scrooge. I don’t know the story like that, but did Scrooge have a slave?
Chad was in town, and as usual, his schedule was so chaotic that we didn’t catch up until the next morning at IHOP. And he got front row seats to watching Najwa pretending like she knew how to use eating utensils.
![]()

If she could only reach the gas pedal [or more importantly, the brakes], maybe I’d let Najwa take the wheels out for a spin.
NOTE: There were no animals injured or killed during this photo op. But 15 years from now…

Ankit, one of my co-workers, was hosting an event at Fur in Washington, DC. We stopped by with some friends, the first night out without the little one.



It’s funny how when you’re a parent, your weekend plans change. It used to be resting all day to hit the streets at night. Not it’s attend birthday parties by day and rest at night. Most of the time.
This weekend we went to Falls Church to celebrate Simone and Mars’ son’s first birthday. The theme was Transformers. Why? Because his name is Optimus. Only Mars!
![]()
There isn’t much to say about the game between the Redskins and Panthers other than Hex Grossman and John Hex combined couldn’t do the things Dam Newton did to us this weekend. Can we get in on the “Suck for Luck” sweepstakes?
Photos from this weekend in Charlotte, NC, where I was hanging out with fellow die-hard Washington Redskins fan Mike Jackson and his family and friends…
Considering the cost to fly to India for a week with a one year old, Nduku and I are postponing our plans for celebrating Diwali there. Luckily, there was a Diwali celebration right in our backyard. But, of course, not quite the same.
Until we make it across the globe for the original, we hung out at FedEx Field where there was a celebration. To my dismay, and perhaps it’ll be the same on the subcontinent, there was no meat in the food! But there was plenty of entertainment with music and dance, plenty of new sights and sounds for Najwa to experience and a lot of eyes on us, three of the maybe 10 non-Indians amongst the hundreds.
When I went to the ticket booth to buy the tickets to enter FedEx Field, the ticket seller politely informed me that it was Diwali and not a Redskins game going on. Funny.
![]()
Comcast is a joke. We’re virtually begging them to take our money and set up our internet, but for whatever reason, they continue to find ways to not set us up for internet. Hence I’m just now getting around to posting the photos from Najwa’s birthday party at Mandu. I’ll b!tch about Comcast later [then DirecTV after them]. For now, here’s Najwa:
Other than her mom and dad, Najwa spends the majority of her time with the babysitter and the other kids she watches. Here’s Najwa with Dillon, one of the other kids who’s known Najwa for more than half her life…



After we wrapped up Najwa’s birthday party at Mandu [I'll post those photos in a moment], Nduku set an appointment for us to take some studio portraits. My mom is in town and bought Najwa a traditional Korean dress called a Hanbok, worn for celebrations. I’m relieved Najwa cooperated, well, as cooperative as we could’ve hoped for considering her temper [which she might've got from daddy?] when forced to do things she doesn’t want to do [just like daddy].
The other dress Najwa was wearing was a gift from Belinda Sillas-Robinson, a friend from back in my Westover days. It was a BaByQ Shower gift, and we’ve been waiting for the right moment or it to make its debut.

Najwa is her very own room after we finally got everything moved in.
It’s safe to assume that it’s safe to assume when you’re allowed to leave work early you’ll get home early. That’s assuming there’s no flooding on the way home.
When Gokul, one of our directors, gave us the option to leave early because of the threat of flooding, I thought nothing of it. There’s was some water build up at the intersection outside the office [albeit with a car stuck in it] but nothing to cause me to think I wouldn’t be home in time to watch the clock roll past the time I’d normally still be in the office.
My first clue came when I got on the bus and the bus driver immediately said to me, “you can get on, but we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
The initial thought of him just being pessimistic faded after about an hour on the bus and watching rescuers pull a woman out from her car — with a life jacket!? — in ankle-deep water. Following the lead of another passenger, we did it the old-fashion way. We hoofed it.

I don’t know what the fuss is about, but these could be college football’s hottest uniforms. And the photo above is not two separate uniforms; these are the side views of one uniform, a designed inspired by the Maryland flag.
If anything, the old uniforms were one of college football’s worst uniforms, so what’s all the crying about?

Doug and I did a preliminary drive-by to see what we were up against. We averted our gaze from the clusters of individuals eyeballing us suspiciously but with anticipation. We rolled by as if we were uninterested, but really we were plotting how we were going to make our move without getting mobbed.
We parked not too far away when Doug said it all: “Feels like we’re hunting for a prostitute.”
Last time my mom was in town, she was there witnessing Najwa come into the world. Now a year later,she returns to celebrate Najwa’s first birthday.
As usual, being a typical Gaines, we don’t know what time she got to DC, but she just knew she remembered how to get to our pad. She did get one thing right — we live just off of M Street. Only she was on M Street SW instead of NW and after a turn here and there, she was in Oxon Hill.
Once we got to the pad, though, it was play time for Najwa…
![]()
Sometimes I look back at how life plays itself out and marvel at how we all get to where we are today. One little decision here, another small one there, a stroke of luck, a pinch of fate; how Ashley and I crossed paths is in the history books, and I’m asking you all to sign your names underneath by giving the girl your support.
Let’s go back to how I even became a recruiter.
To this day I give all thanks to Kobie Boyd for presenting the opportunity to get into the staffing industry. I was nothing more than a retail manager who simply talked really fast. When I went to AppleOne to become a temp while my mom was recovering from a kidney transplant, Kobie [who interviewed me even though I rescheduled twice] asked if I would be interested in becoming an account manager for AppleOne. Though my mind was screaming, “Hell No!” I was worried that saying “Hell No!” wouldn’t help my odds of getting a temp job.
I was skeptical. Who wanted to spend all day listening to people whine [as I was] about not being able to get a job. If I was interested in hearing sob stories, I would’ve majored in social work. But then I asked the simple question, “can you even make money helping people find jobs?” Kobie started explaining how the commission plan worked. He went into details about getting a percentage of the “spread,” what piece of the pie you get when you place someone in a direct hire position, how we built up a clientele, sourced for candidates, blah, blah, blah…
He had me at “commission plan.”
Working in Fairfax has some advantages, if you look for the silver lining. Downtown DC, where I’ve worked for the past several years, has so many options for lunch you suffer from analysis paralysis figuring out where to get some overpriced grub. Where I now work in Fairfax, though, is like working on the side of a highway. Literally — Lee Highway.
So, today I did what I always do or lunch. I sat outside in the rear of the building, reading the newspaper and downloading apps because they’re free then delete them next week from their uselessness. But today was different. How do I describe it? Something weird happened. I was sitting on the concrete steps when I felt my butt moving. At first I thought someone was feeling me up, but when I looked over my shoulder, there was no one. But my butt was still wiggling against my wishes.
Nduku and I have been overdosing on House lately, so I had the brief thought that maybe I was having a House moment. Takayasu Arteritis? Chondrodysplasia Punctata? Eisenmenger Complex? I have no idea what they are, but whatever was happening to me wasn’t rhinovirus [also known as the common cold].
Najwa actually has a few weeks and a pound to go, but instead of waiting, we went ahead and turned her car seat around. At first I was skeptical about her sitting in the middle, visions of her flying through the windshield in an accident. Our friend Jenny, though, mentioned that most accidents tend to be t-bones, getting hit on the side by people running red lights or stop signs. Or if the car flips over, you don’t want your child right at the shattered window.
With the number of straps and belts connecting the seat to the car, I’m pretty sure she’s the safest passenger in the car. And now she has a view to go along with it.
Video of Najwa playing in the water when we were at the Sculpture Garden’s fountain at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC.
![]()
A couple of photos of Najwa Gaines and Nduku Malombe as we lounge around the pad…

In a matter of a day, I went from an iPhone to an Android and a Blackberry [for work]. The biggest adjustment so far is relearning how to behave without my apps. It’s not that Android doesn’t offer the same ones, I just had to figure out how to download them.
It never dawned on me how empty life is without the ProFootballTalk app, but I finally figured that one out. And of course there’s Mint to see how much money I don’t have and without The Weather Channel, I kept walking out the door wondering if I should’ve carried an umbrella or not. They come in handy at the bus stop with no windshield.
Naturally with a new phone I did some exploring. Android has most of the same apps, but there are some missing and some new ones. But like the iPhone, there are so many I don’t even know where to get started. There are so many apps I downloaded and they either didn’t do what they were advertised to do or I just couldn’t figure out how to work them. nd then it took me longer to figure out how to delete them.
So, I ask, for those with an Android, which apps do you recommend?
With me bouncing from one agency to another and Najwa requiring more clothes, diapers and food than ever, Nduku made the financial decision to leave AT&T and get a Cricket phone. We both had unlimited everything, only mine required unlimited income and came with unlimited disconnections and unlimited dead zones around town.
I hate AT&T. Always have ever since I sold wireless phones back in the day. The only other company on my DNU [agency lingo for DO NOT USE] list was T-Mobile. How ironic they’ve consolidated my DNU List to just one company?
In the couple of months since Nduku got her Cricket phone, it became obvious I needed to leave AT&T and its nearly $200 a month phone bills. The defining moment was when I had no signal and asked her to call whomever I couldn’t call from my phone. Seriously? Cricket may not have AT&T’s coverage of 97% of Americans, but it worked in part of the 3% when I needed it to.