If you google "Ebony Adams," you get about a billion hits -- and around of two of them actually refer to me. This Ebony Adams is NOT the Ebony who is a) a champion equestrian; b) a high school track star; c) the person for whom a warrant has been issued somewhere in Texas; and most importantly, d) NOT the Ebony with that "ghetto soul" poetry up on the web. Now, I got nothing against those other Ebonys...in fact, we might just start a girl gang and commence to kicking ass in your town. But I do take issue with the fact that apparently, my mother didn't have the forethought to name me something truly unique, like Clytemnestra Jones, or something really common, like Kelly. I honestly couldn't care less about people from my past contacting me, but if some poor soul I used to torment is curious about what I've been up to lately, I don't want them to relax back into their easy chairs, thinking, "that ho is running from the law and winning jumping trophies and I just didn't think she was that kind of woman..."
'Cause I ain't.