URBAN CHAMELEON invites you to create your own MEDIA in ATL!!!

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor

HaJ

If you or someone you know are in the ATL area Sunday, August 22 from 3-5PM please come out to our event and share ideas of the kinds of stories and characters you would like to see on TV.

There will be a live performance of the original stories shared from our blog by some of Atlanta's finest artists, authors, painters, poets, and performers hosted by yours truly ME, HaJ, creator of URBAN CHAMELEON media.

Where: Danneman's Coffee Shop (Upstairs)

Old Fourth Ward

466 Edgewood Ave

Atlanta, GA 30312

3-5PM

Hope to see you there!

Have your Urban Chameleon stories featured by emailing tickles.tv@gmail.com

click here for: How the Urban Chameleon came to be

Mama always said if you want good real estate follow the crack heads…

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor FunnelCake

Growing up in the early 80ties I used to question why my intellectual, progressive, degree earning, world traveled parents decided to raise me in a crack head infested, gun shot bucking, drug dealer having neighborhood also known as da ‘hood. Every day, on my way to private school located on the other side of town, I stepped over different color crack vials, prayed for my life, and dreamed of one day living in a high-rise doorman building surrounded by white folks; ‘cause they couldn’t possibly be experiencing these same kind of problems. My white friends at school looked relaxed and at peace, in fact the most frazzled I had ever seen one of my school mates was over this really complicated long division math problem that had the class stumped. Meanwhile, I was calculating my route home to avoid Bebe’s Kids that at one point in time were filling up water balloons with their urine and targeting folks.

My parents brushed aside my worries, told me that the 'hood shapes character and that I needed a little culture. For them there was nothing like living with the people. I will say this, the one time Bebe’s kids did try to mess with me, my intellectual, progressive, world traveled father chased them down with a machete. He was from Jamaica.

It wasn’t until years later, when I had to start paying bills, robbing Peter to pay Paul and looking for someway out of the rat race, that I discovered the value of good Real Estate. During the early eighties, my parents had the foresight to purchase property in our crack head infested, gun shot bucking, drug dealer having neighborhood also known as da ‘hood; where houses at the time only cost seventeen thousand dollars. Their mortgage payment was a whopping $217.00 per month. The irony is in all that time I was looking to run to the white neighborhood, white folks ended up moving into our neighborhood! This resulted in driving up the Real Estate so much so that when my parents were ready to sell they made an 800% profit!!!

My father passed shortly after the sale of the house and my mother decided to take her newfound wealth down south to Hot-Lanta; where she purchased a 2400sq ft, three-story loft, balcony off the bedroom and living room with a view of the downtown skyline. And where is this piece of oasis located you ask? Another crack head infested, gun shot bucking, drug dealer having neighborhood also known as da ‘hood. At this stage of the game I expect nothing less from my mother. She would never move to the suburbs. She claims she knows how to handle a crack head better than deer.

read part II

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click here for: How the Urban Chameleon Came to be

Why White Men Love Me: "The Saliva Incident" (episode 2)

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor
Please note that the white man in this photo is not the one involved in this incident

A couple of months ago, my colleagues and I went down to Atlanta to have dinner with one of our major clients: a loaded older white man who always likes to keep the party going. He’s one of those clients that has your boss freeing up the next morning’s schedule because you know that it’s gonna be a long night of kissing ass. Well, we all flew into Atlanta and met the client at one of the many fine dining establishments “the dirty dirty” has to offer. It was a typical business dinner. The client was already at the bar when we got there, sippin’ on his Jack, No Coke. Of course, after dinner he was ready to hit up the next stop—a sleazy, locals jazz club. So there we were, all lined up along yet another bar, damn near midnight still kissing ass hoping to get the nod for our next deal, when the client leaned over to whisper something in my ear but nothing came out. That’s when I felt it. I froze in a state of shock.

Was that what I thought it was?

Ew ew ew ew ew ew

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god

But the client was already up, shaking my boss’s hand, then my colleague’s, and out the door.

“Are you okay?” my colleague asked noticing the horrified look on my face.

“No I need a bottle of gin.” I replied.

As the bartender was pouring I was trying to recover.

“What’s wrong?”

“The client just LICKED MY EAR!”

“What?”

I took the Gin to the head using it more as an antiseptic. “How is it that we all come to ATL, the southern Bastian of Black Professionals, and I’m the one who ends up with an ear full of a White Man’s saliva?”

click here for: episode 1

Have your Urban Chameleon story featured by e-mailing tickles.tv@gmail.com

Click here for: How the Urban Chameleon Came to be