Yes I'm a sucker for...

dimples.

Random dimples

A dimple is any sort of indentation. Most dimples are actually caused by a birth defect. The most common cause of dimples is a shortened muscle, which explains why dimples are not always apparent at rest, since muscles are typically in their shortened state at rest. In the face, shorter face muscles pull at the skin, especially when someone smiles, creating a classic dimple.

Despite the fact that dimples are defects, I love the way they look. Besides nice, full lips dimples are the only other facial feature that I believe can really bring out a smile on a woman. I often think that women with dimples shouldn't be allowed to frown. They should just walk around happy all the time (or at least look like they're happy). There are a couple of women I know that I would love to stick my tongue in their dimples. There is this one woman in particular (yes you).

Since I'm a science guy I had to look up some genetic facts on dimples.

The genetic of dimples is actually rather interesting. Dimples are a dominant, which means that it only takes one gene to inherit dimples. If neither of your parents has dimples, you shouldn't have them either, unless you experience a spontaneous mutation. If one of your parents has dimples, you have a 25-50% chance of inheriting the gene, since it means that parent inherited the gene from one or both parents. If both of your parents have dimples, you have a 50-100% chance of inheriting the gene, depending on how they inherited their dimple genes.

One celebrity who's dimples I am really attracted to is Lauren London.

I used to love her. Not anymore.

We all know why.

Rain boots

This weekend I was home and I had a great time despite the fact that it rained the ENTIRE weekend. The rain wasn't enough to spoil the fact that I was home with family and friends. The one thing that I noticed with the torrential downpours was women brought out their rain boots. I never noticed how much I liked this look on a woman before this past weekend. Its simple yet sexy to me. I think its the fact that that I like a woman to look cute and comfortable over titillating and uncomfortable.

While I'm on the subject of articles of clothing women put on in the rain. I love seeing a woman in a trench coat to go with those rain boots. Perfect combination in my book and would definitely get a second look from me.

Fellas, how do you feel about rain boots? Do women look stupid when they wear rain boots when its not wet outside? Am I way off base?

My name tells a story. What story does yours tell?

Yesterday I was watching the Texas/Baylor basketball game. When the star watch came across the screen, Baylor had a player by the name of Lacedarius. At first look I thought he had a Greek name but as I looked further I came to the conclusion that his name was probably a mixture of two names: Lacy and Darius. Now I know with a name like Tunde, most of you are probably thinking that I have no reason to be talking about Lacedarius. This is what I wrote on twitter yesterday:

i don't. i know my name is different but it actually has a deep rooted meaning. lacedarius sounds like a combo of 2 names.

Most Nigerian names have specific meaning. My niece's middle name literally means "born on sunday". My brothers (twins) names mean: "eldest of twins" and "youngest of twins". My youngest brothers name means: "born after twins". So while Nigerian names may seem hard to pronounce to most Americans they actually have some type of meaning and they are hardly ever made up. This morning when I woke up I checked my email and got a very interesting email from brother.

So we’ve all been there. First day of school, substitute teacher, work, even our every day lives. We’ve all been through it. We sit there, watching the individual with the list of names, just awaiting the look of panic and the pre-apology for mispronouncing our name. We know that they are about to butcher our names, so we raise our hands quickly, so in an effort to prevent both our embarrassment as well as theirs. What does it mean to be African in America? Well, it means many things. But one thing that I believe is constantly overlooked is our names. What’s in a name?

Due to the constant mispronunciation of our names, we are forced to do four things. One, we begin to go by nicknames. My best friend growing up had the last name Ayarinola. The unforgiving students called him granola bar until the day he graduated. For a long time, instead of calling me by my last name, Awoniyi, I was called ADub, AW, and A&W rootbeer, Awana-eat, I wanna wewe. The only thing that they have in common is that they all start with an A. Close, but not quite. I guess with nicknames it helps the individual over compensate for their lack of pronunciation ability.

Second, we go by the meaning of our names. My good friend, Ifedayo, went by love all through middle school. Good thing her name was not Joke.

Third, it forces us to get tired of cringing every time our name is slaughtered and we just begin to pronounce it however it will make it easy for them to say. Tomi become Tomy, Lara to Laura. Will it ever end? I have to say, though, out of all these, the fourth is the worst.

We change our names all together. For the first ten years of my life, I was called Seye, or rather Sheya as the average American pronounced it. Then after that, I began to be called Mary. Now to the African community, I’m Seye, but to everyone else, I’m Mary. And you all know exactly what I’m talking about. How many Graces or Josephs do you know?

Through my short life, I have begun to realize what slowly happens to us when we change our names in order to accommodate others. We slowly being to conform. We slowly being to forget who we are in hopes of making them happy. Although it is merely a minute change, our name is our identity. Our name is who we are.

19 years ago, Funso Awoniyi gave birth to her second daughter. This child almost did not make it; there were doubts concerning not only her survival, but a successful birth as well. But after labor that lasted for what felt like forever, the proud mother was able to hold her baby in her arms. She named that baby Oluwaseye. Oluwaseye. God has done this. God has done this. Not Nancy, not Beth, not Jessica, but God has done this, Oluwaseye.

True, being an African in America means that my name is constantly slaughtered. Yes, it means that I constantly have to just shrug off the fact that at times it feels like the individual is not even trying to pronounce my name correctly. But you know what? It also means that I am unique. It means that my name is a large part of who I am. It means that my name not only represents me, but it represents my family, my people, and the struggles that we have overcome. It means that my name is part of something bigger than I am. It means that my name is well, it’s my name. And I take pride in that. Oluwaseye. Oluwaseye. God has done this. God, has done this. My name tells a story. What story does yours tell?

Written by Seye Awoniyi

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I can relate to this email because I also dreaded the days when my teacher would call my name for roll and horribly mispronounce my name. It still happens to this day but I just politely correct whomever mispronounces my name. I take great pride in my name which means "he has come again". In Yoruba culture, there is belief in reincarnation. When a loving grandfather dies, and soon after, a child is born, they believe the father has reincarnated. I also understand that my name is a foreign language and it would unfair for me to expect people to pronounce it right the first time. What I won't stand for is for people to make fun of my name or mispronounce it on purpose. My name is not THAT difficult (pronounced Tune-Day). Even though my children will probably not have Nigerian first names (their middle and last names will be), their names will probably be biblical in origin. A name means a lot and it's not something that should be taken or given lightly.

Paintball

This past weekend I had a lot of fun hanging with friends. That says a lot considering I stayed in boring Nashville. I did a variety of things but the highlight of my weekend was a GSA (Graduate Student Association) sponsored social activity. We went to play paintball. I never really had a desire to play after seeing the giant blister a paintball left on my brother's neck when we were younger.

Paintball is a game or sport where players compete, in teams or individually, to eliminate opponents by hitting them with paintballs. We played on an outdoor field with teams of 5. We played capture the flag in a wooded playing field. That to me was the most fun. I think I would make a pretty good solider. We also played elimination on a hyper field. I really didn't like that game because it required less strategy and team work.

After a while we played on a larger wooded area playing field. To me the field was entirely too large because I got lost a couple of times and it was 17-17. It was hard to distinguish who was on my team. My greatest victory was sniping the hell out a dude who was dressed like this:

He blended in very well with the brush but seeing as I have 20/20 vision and great hearing, I heard him crawling through the brush. He got unloaded on (pause).

We were out there for about 3 hours and I had a complete blast. If you haven't been I strongly suggest you go. I was worried about the paintballs hurting or leaving bruises but I wore 3 layers of bottoms and tops and left unscathed. I am seriously considering buying my own paintball gun and going once a month. I wonder if the United States Paintball League (USPL) has any leagues near Nashville.

The Art of Kissing

Wikipedia defines it as the act of pressing one's lips against the body of another. Sounds like such a simple definition to such a complicated act. It can mean so many things. A greeting, a good-bye or a term of endearment. There's just something about a kiss and not the type of kiss that you give to your mother. I'm speaking on the sensuality, electricity and lasciviousness that you feel the second your lips make contact with that person.

I remember my first kiss like it was yesterday. I was what you would call a late bloomer. It didn't happen until my senior year of high school and it was everything that I could have hoped for. Since that day I've been infatuated with kissing. I personally think its a lost art form. I have friends who have told me that they think kissing is disgusting (not gonna call you out though). I don't understand the logic behind having sex with a person but not kissing them. I guess it's not for me to understand since I'm not having sex with them.

If I could describe the perfect kiss it would start the second before our lips actually touch. From the anticipation of what is about to occur to the nervousness that happens because my mind is racing. When our lips actually make contact the softer her lips the better. Since I have fuller lips, it don't really matter if her lips are thin or not. I'll spare you the details on the rest.

How do you feel about kissing? Do you consider yourself a good kisser? Does the physical makeup of your partner's mouth contribute to the experience of the kiss? How do you feel about crusty lips while kissing. That last question was out of left field, but it was something I just thought of.

Click here to see different types of kissing.

I'm Not A Player, I Just Crush A Lot

Thinking of your crush directly causes a rush in your chest and a noticeable increase in your heartbeat. The tragedy of knowing that your crush might not reciprocate your feelings fills you with despondency and hopelessness. All you can do is fantasize about your crush becoming a part of your life, of linking your experiences with theirs, of assimilating their existence into your mundane world. Having a crush is a euphoric, desperate, compulsive state of being.

I remember my first real crush. It was when I moved and started a different elementary school during the 4th grade. Her name was Dominique. I crushed on her from the fourth grade all the way until the end of middle school. In my eyes she could do no wrong. I remember how I excited I was when she found out she was coming to my 13th birthday party. Maybe it was because she was always nice to me. Or maybe it was her perfectly cut bangs. I don't know but Ahhh the memories.

Once I entered into the brand new world of high school I was besieged by so many pretty girls. It seemed like I had a new crush every week. There were tall girls, there were short girls. There were skinny girls, there were thick girls. It was simply beautiful bliss. There were a few crushes that did stand out though. Two to be exact but I won't put them or myself out there like that. These crushes were my friends first and foremost so I think overall I was most infatuated with their personalities. It didn't hurt that I found them absolutely beautiful. We are actually still good friends to this day.

After I left high school I thought I was over crushes. I didn't have not one in college. After all who has time for that type of innocent behavior in college? College is all about getting it in finding yourself right? After college it was time to grow up and infatuations were one of those things that was childish. I thought I had put it all behind me until my second year of grad school. That's when I first met her. A couple of my friends know whom I speak of. If you look at some of my early blog posts, I believe I actually mentioned her. Too bad she had a boyfriend the entire time she was here. You best believe I let her know what was up though. lol Oh what could have been.

Do I have any crushes now? Sure do. Would they ever know? Probably not. Do you still have crushes? If you do, do/would you let that person know?

Dream-2/1/10

*****Before I get into the dream , I know that you read my blog so I just want to state the that although some names and periods of time have been changed this isn't about you. This isn't about you either. Or you. Just don't want you making assumptions because we know what that leads to. Anyway, I know that YOU read my blog and this IS about you.*****

Characters of My Dream (some names have been changed to protect the not so innocent):

• Erica- A woman who I "date" on occasion.


• Kennedy- My line brother.


• James- Kennedy's friend.


• Natasha- Another girl whom I am currently dating.

It's a Saturday night and Kennedy and I are hanging out so we decide to go to Outback (or any restaurant that has booths in their bar area) to have drinks. I decide to invite Natasha along to have drinks with us and James just so happened to drop by the crib before we head out so he came along too. While we are having drinks at Outback I notice that Natasha and James are a little too comfortable with each other and that caused me to feel some type of way (I have no idea what this had to do with the overall dream). Either way we are having a good time when I notice that Erica and her "date" walk into the bar area. Being the cool cat that I am I play it easy as Erica and I make eye contact. Erica and her date sit at another booth across from the bar. For some reason Erica keeps looking towards our table and catching eye contact with me.

In this particular bar there is a men's, women's and family bathroom. When Erica gets up to use the bathroom she catches eye contact with me again but this time her date notices. He gets up and follows her into the family bathroom. The entire bar can hear him whooping her ass in the bathroom. Natasha looks at me like aren't you going to do anything. Kennedy and I get up and walk towards the bathroom. Kennedy gets there before I do and as Erica's date walks out he punches him and drops him with one punch. As dude lay bleeding on the ground Kennedy hits him a couple more times. Some random dudes at the bar hold Erica's date down on the ground. One of the guys holds his leg up at a 45 degree angle and Kennedy takes a running start, jumps in the air and lands right on dude's knee.

In my dream I could vividly remember hear the bones in dude's leg breaking. I cringed so hard in my sleep that I woke up. I was 3:46 in the morning and I had a hard time going back to sleep. I thought when I woke up in the morning I would forget the dream, but even as I'm writing this I can picture Kennedy literally breaking dude's leg in two. *shudder*

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I have no interest in looking up interpretations for this dream. Just wanted to share.