Man Among Boys

This post has 546 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 27 secondes for reading it.

…you know what it is?…it’s dumb n*gga technology.  It lets dumb n*ggas,  talk to other dumb n*ggas, about dumb n*gga sh*t… – Gin Rummy, from Season One of “The Boondocks”

I like social media..for the most part.  Twitter, Facebook, chat rooms.  It’s a whole new way for people to communicate with each other no matter where they are in the world.  It’s a cheap and fun way to let people know what’s on your mind, or to update a quick status on what you’re up to.

It’s also a way for chickenheads to cluck across the internet.  So I’m going to put this one in the “Just Not Manly” category, even though it applies to women too.

What the hell is going on with some of the people on Twitter and Facebook?  People lost their damn minds over that little blue bird.  Maybe because they can be anonymous with a fake name and not have to meet people, but that’s no reason to get stupid.  Women are all over the web claiming how much the love God with their ass hanging out; the Lord don’t need to see ya thong.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for having fun, but some of this stuff is just stupid.  One tweet I saw the other day from a Tweeter with a lot of followers said

About to guzzle down some Hennessy like if it was (another Tweeter’s) d*ck…

First, she comes off like a drunk bitch.  Second, she comes off like a drunk bitch that makes her living on her knees.  Have some gotdamn self-respect.  I don’t understand what makes her think this is a good idea.  I’m not judging anyone…but she’s probably single and has been ran through like Adrian Peterson through the Minnesota Vikings offensive line.

That wasn’t an isolated incident.  Another one I saw from a young girl that said she wanted to ride a guy’s d*ck and lick the cum off.  The biggest problem I had was that Twit Pic looked like she was about 15.  At least she has a goal in life; most 15 year old girls just want to chase after Justin Bieber.

(Note:  I hate Bieber’s little punk ass, but I can’t knock his hustle.  He’s got about ½ a billion fans and Twitter followers, little boys and girls are putting his name in their screen names.  Can’t knock his hustle…but get a damn haircut.)

Fellas, you are not exempt.  Some of you are chickenheads, too.  Why does every dude who lifts two weights and gets a little bit of a pump feel the need to take his shirt off in his pic?  Cut that fruity sh*t out with that stupid stand-in-front-of-the-mirror-with-your-cell-camera-pose.  That is some really suspect sh*t.

Makes me want to go back to regular snail mail from the U.S. Postal Service.   It took forever to get a message across the street, but at least I didn’t have to worry about some idiot that wants to call himself YungSwole, or some other asshole standing looking tough in his bathroom showing his tattoos.  Moron.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 620 words. It will take approximately 6 minutes, 12 secondes for reading it.

“There’s some great story tellers in the world…but who the f*ck could make THAT sh*t up?? – Charlie Murphy from Charlie Murphy’s Hollywood Stories on “The Chapelle Show”

Hey MAB readers.  I got a story to tell.  I didn’t happen to me but I thought I should share it with you in case you wonder why guys treat women like dirt. It’s usually because another woman messed it up for you all from the beginning.  I’m not saying it’s right in all cases..but it’s not wrong in all cases either.  Let me know what you think on this one.

A friend of mine, we’ll call him “Steve”, recently got divorced.  Steve’s been down in the dumps about it but decided that enough was enough and marched back into the dating scene. He got in contact with an ex-girlfriend of his; we’ll call her “Dumbass” (you’ll see why later).  Steve and Dumbass dated for a while before he got married.  They didn’t hate each other, but they weren’t going to be catching up anytime soon.  Steve decided to give Dumbass a call.  They talked a while and found out Dumbass was going to be vacationing in Steve’s area soon, so they decided to get together.  They had a great time and didn’t even think about anything sexual (smart move). They even talked about possibly starting a relationship again.  It seemed like things were going really well.  Dumbass was leaving soon to go on the last leg of her vacation at a Caribbean resort and invited Steve to come along for few days.  Steve jumped at the chance, packed a bag, and left.

Steve met Dumbass at a resort (a resort she used to work at) and they were having a great time until he noticed her dipping and dodging someone who turned out to be an ex-boyfriend.  He questioned why she would invite him to a resort where an ex-boyfriend worked, and it seemed like she still had feelings for him.  Steve starts thinking “WHY AM I HERE??!!”  He was already weary of the situation, but then discovered that TWO of her ex-boyfriends worked there (maybe she has a thing for cabana boys, who knows), one of which used to whup her ass on the regular.  Now Dumbass is crying her eyes, sobbing that she has some “unresolved issues” while she is telling her whole life story to Steve, who is now playing therapist and babysitter in a very uncomfortable situation.  Steve decides he’s had enough and decides to fly home.

Dumbass sends Steve a message thanking him for a good time and wishing him well.  Steve coldly (and rightfully in my opinion) replies that she can come by to get her bag that she left whenever she’s in the area and not to contact him again.  Trueman’s reply would have been a bit…different

Look b*tch, don’t darken my doorstep again.  You act like this and wonder why you can’t keep a man.  By the way, you left a bag here and I didn’t want you to have to pay for international shipping to have me send it back, so I threw it into the Atlantic Ocean.    If you hurry, you can probably fish it out somewhere around Jamaica, if whale hasn’t swallowed it first…ya bird b*tch.

Steve was an optimist and though that he could find the good in someone he once knew.  Me, I’m taking it as a lesson and a reason to turn vegetarian.  Messing with some half-baked chicken only makes two people crazy.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 590 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 54 secondes for reading it.

This one comes at a reader request.  I love you guys too much to turn down a request so this one is for you Libramook…

I have to admit that I almost didn’t want to blog about this one.  It’s a pretty serious topic, even though the path of how she got here was of her own doing.

Fantasia Barrino recently tried to commit suicide, according to several published reports.  She was messing with a married man, got caught up, and need to escape.  It’s sad to hear of anyone wanting to end their life…but she kind of put herself there.

I’m sure we’ve all seen movies where to cars race towards each other in a head on collision.  The camera usually pans back and forth between drivers until one of them loses his nerve and swerves to narrowly avoid the crash.  That’s called playing “chicken.”  Messing with a married man and being a homewrecker is like playing chicken.  That’s hard to do.

Chickenheads shouldn’t play chicken.  First, they’re usually not that smart.  Also, you have to be willing to crash, and they’re usually not.  That’s basically what Fantasia did by playing the role of sugar mama / sidepiece with Antwaun Cook, a married man from North Carolina.  Fantasia tried to play chicken when she didn’t have the nerve (or the brains for that matter) to keep it up.

Fantasia first completely denied the relationship, going on record as saying…

Yes, [the rumors] were all really cute to me. I guess it was something about a guy from T-Mobile? Inaccurate. He was hot, but I think I’m looking for my own man. There’s no boo in my life, I’m married to my career. I have no tattoo on my shoulder… As a matter of fact, I’ve never even [met him] before. I think I’d want to be with a guy who’s in the same tax bracket as I am … or higher!

That turned out to be a lie.  And I don’t understand the “tax bracket” comment.  B*tch, you’re not Alicia Keys trying to take Swizz Beats from his family.  You had one hit song, and you remixed it twice.

(Note:  Some advise for Fantasia.  Before you deny knowing Antwaun or having a tattoo of him on your shoulder, make sure you cover it up at photo ops, ya bird b*tch…)

But Fantasia kept up the lie…until the pictures of her and Cook, the married guy she was seeing, on vacation together in Barbados. Again, she was playing chicken but was in no position to keep going so she had to swerve again, saying now that she did have a relationship with Cook, but only because he led her to believe that the marriage was over.  Now that just sounds stupid to me….and just about everyone else.

Antwaun Cook’s wife, Paula says that she has some kind of sex tapes of Fantasia and Antwaun.  That’s can’t be good for the divorce proceedings or for Fantasia’s career.

Now she attempted suicide and was found in her closet slumped over.  I don’t wish that on anyone…but if you handled your business a little bit better, you wouldn’t be in that situation.

Get better soon, Fantasia, and take care of home.  But keep ya chickenhead ass away from married men if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 434 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 20 secondes for reading it.

I was talking with a friend this morning, just catching up since it’s been a little while since we’ve talked.  We went over a few topic, starting with work and kids, but eventually stumbled across…women.

He just got out of a relationship and I’m single, so we started talking about the women we want…and the one’s we don’t.  He was telling me that no one ever really taught him how to identify a good woman.  I can relate.  There’s not an IPhone app for that and my GPS doesn’t have a destination for “good women.”  You’re kind of on your own.

So we started joking around (well kind of) and we came up with a couple of classes of women.  Good women, women, and chickenheads.  Chickenheads (usually) look good and some even come with degrees, but they always lead to a stressful life.  We’ve both been attracted to chickenheads because we didn’t know better.  We didn’t know the chickenhead signs.  So we came up with a few.

• Drive by a crowded group of people blasting your music.  A real woman would turn her head in disgust.  If one starts bobbin’ their head to the music screaming “Gurrlllll, that’s my song!”….she’s a chickenhead.
• If you’re on a dinner date and a another woman happens to glance your way, and your date grabs her knife, looks at you and says “What the f*ck she lookin’ at?!” ..your date is a chickenhead.
• If she keeps arguing with you, even after you’ve mathematically, scientifically, and logically proven she’s wrong, she’s a chickenhead.
• If every time you argue, she has to arch her back, put one hand on her hip, wave her finger, and make that “knucccckkk” sound when she talks, she’s a ghetto chickenhead. Definitely not a KFC chicken, more like Crown Fried Chicken or Kennedy Fried Chicken.
• If your lady can’t keep a job and is always complaining that everyone is jealous of her and is out to get her, she’s a chickenhead, but even worse she’s a paranoid chicken.  Probably paranoid because of the steroids, definitely not a free range chicken.

Fellas, I say this (partially) in fun, but you have to be on the lookout.  We have to follow the signs.  We have to make good choices in the women we date, and even better choices in the ones we marry.

Ladies, if anything I mentioned applies to you and you’re offended, well…cluck cluck.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 498 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 58 secondes for reading it.

Fellas, this one is for the ladies, but keep reading anyway.  I’m sure you can relate.

I was reading Twitter the other day and I saw a tweet from a young lady that said “I’m starting to feel like the only men that are committed are institutionalized.”  I kind of laughed, but that got me to thinking, “Is that what women really think?  Do women think that men can’t be committed?”

It was a long ride home from work so that gave me even more time to ponder the subject.  I started thinking about all of the male friends I have, and a lot, if not most, of us are single.  We don’t have someone to come home to after a hard day’s work, share a home cooked meal with, or snuggle on the couch with while watching a movie (yes, Trueman does like to snuggle at times.  Tell anyone and I’ll kill you ).

Are we afraid of committment?  Are we men afraid of marriage and taking a vow before God to stay with one woman, for better or for worse for the rest of our lives?

Ladies, I’m going to give you the answer.  I’m crossing one of the “man lines” and will tell you the secret.

No, we’re not afraid of committment.  We’re afraid of being committed to that b*tch.

The one who makes our lives a living hell.  The one we complain to the fellas about on that one night a month we’re allowed to out on for a “boys’ night out.”  The one who tries to control every aspect of our lives.  The one we don’t want to go home to after work so we go to the bar to sip whiskey alone to prepare ourselves for her complaining ass the minutes we put the key in the door.

That b*tch has ruined it for a lot of you ladies.  I know guys that have said they will never get married or get involved in a serious relationship again. I know guys that have turned gay because they are sick of some of the bullsh*t they go through with a woman.  They are just sick and tired.

Which brings me to the title of the post.  In some cases the only guys that are committed are in institutions, mental or correctional, take your pick.  That’s the only place we don’t have to worry about ya complaining asses yelling in our ear or putting your finger in our face every five minutes.

It’s funny, I remember from Chris Rock’s “Never Scared Skit” (loved that one) when he was talking about Nelson Mandela and how tough relationships are.  He survived over 20 hard years in prison, came home to his wife…and got divorced in less than 6 months.

Damn…3 hots and a cot don’t seem so bad compared to being nagged to death.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 478 words. It will take approximately 4 minutes, 46 secondes for reading it.

Saturday Special for you.

I was thinking about things that are timeless.  Things we will always place on a higher plane.  No matter old your Tag Heuer is, it will always look good on your wrist.  That late model Mercedes you’re driving will still turn heads as long as you take care of it.  As much as “bottle poppin” Ace of Spaces champagne like Jay-Z is in fashion right now, try ordering Crown Royal the next time you’re out and watch the smile come across the bartender’s face that says “classy.”

Fellas, why don’t we look for the same in our women?  Don’t get me wrong, I like a nice set of ta-tas pushing out of a woman’s top as much as the next man, but if she’s putting that out there for the world to see, you’re probably not thinking about making her “wifey”.  The D’s popping out of her top tell you all you need to know about her.

I pulled up a couple of examples of two women that look as good now as they did in their hey day.

Pam Grier, the original “Foxy Brown”, still turns heads, then and now. She defined what sexy was and could kick ya ass in the process.

Raquel Welch still has her shape from her the 1966 film One Million Years B.C., and she could still give some of the current Playmates a run for their money.

But it’s more than their physical beauty that makes their beauty timeless.

They have a certain class about them, a certain aire that commands respect and attention.  You probably wouldn’t have seen them stepping out of cars, spreading their legs with no panties on for the world to see their…stuff.  I don’t think any sex tapes would have surfaced.  Will we still look at Paris Hilton the same way when she’s 60′s?  No, because she’ll probably still be making sex tapes, but I don’t think we’ll watch those.

(I have to admit though, if it were Kim Kardashian making another tape, I might give it a look )

It’s time to step our game up fellas and make better choices in the women we’re getting involved with.  That girl in the club showing you her thong might be nice for that night, but do you really want her raising your kids, breeding a new nation of little bootie shakers that drop it like it’s hot?  If you’re leaving the next morning, that will do, but if you’re looking for anything more that, you might want to look elsewhere.

There’s a reason the saying, “you can’t turn a hoe into a housewife” has lasted to this day…it’s true.

What do you think?  Feel free to comment.

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This post has 515 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 9 secondes for reading it.

As I get older, I’m learning how smart of a man my dad is.  He is an oracle, a sage that I foolishly considered an old man that was behind in the times.  Now I see that I was the fool. If I’d listened to him when I was younger, I’d have been much happier.

He told me that no matter what I do, I’ll never fully make a woman happy.  They can’t be happy. They must have something to complain about, or they wouldn’t be women.  No matter how much you try to appease them or adjust to fit what they want, it won’t work.  That’s just a fact of life.

One example he told me was about money.  The following is an actual conversation I remember almost word for word.  Now my dad and I haven’t had a conversation that lasted longer that about 2 minutes, so when he spoke, it was powerful and should be heeded.  As I reminisced, I laughed to myself so hard when I wrote this that I almost couldn’t hit the keys…in part because it’s funny, and it part because it’s true:

Son, let’s say you work a lot of hours and you make a lot of money.  You’re not home as much, but when you go out, you can go to the best restaurants and take the best vacations, but you don’t do that often because you’re always working.  What she’ll say is ‘You don’t spend time with me.  Spend time with me.  The money’s not important.  Spend time with me.’

So you work less, trying to make her happy.  You’re home more often, but you can’t go out to as nice of restaurants or take the nice vacations you used to because you’re not making the money you used to.  Then what you’ll hear is ‘We used to be able to go out to nice places.  We used to be able to take nice vacations.  Now your ass is home all the time and we can’t do nothin’. N*gger ain’t sh*t.’

I tell you this because I love you and I want you to be ready for how unhappy you’re going to be.

At first, I laughed it off.  Now I realize those are words to live by.

Fellas, you have to realize that no matter what you do it’s wrong.  No matter what you do, it’s not the right thing.  I don’t care if it’s your girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, wife, ex-wife, baby mama, mama, mom, big mama, the lady who makes your coffee at Starbucks, or whatever you call a woman in your life.  She is unhappy with you for some reason, whether your dumb ass realizes it or not.

As Chris Rock said at his “Never Scared” performance in D.C., “Ain’t no happiness nowhere”.  Sorry to break the news to you, but it is what it is.

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 526 words. It will take approximately 5 minutes, 15 secondes for reading it.

I’m going to go back to my conversation that I had while I was drinking with my buddy…yeah, the pinot guy.  We  talked the other night to catch up, and that made me think about the other part of our conversation.

We talked for a while about just about everything and eventually got to love and relationships.  He’d just ended a relationship and was looking forward to getting back out on the dating scene.  Some women he met had potential, but no one really to write home about.  It seems like there are slim pickins’ out there.

“Do you think you ever love anyone as much as you love your first?”

That question kind of perplexed me. First, it’s not really a manly question. I mean he’s my boy and all and I’ve known him a long time, but he’s acting a little suspect to me right now. Sipping pinot at a bar and asking seemingly soft questions on love isn’t exactly what you’d expect hanging with the fellas.  However, he did point out an attractive woman with a really huge pair of “twins”, so I guess I can  give him a pass.

Second, I really didn’t have an answer for it.  As you meet people and date them and become emotionally vested, do you permanently give some of the love away that you have?  Can you start a new relationship with as much love as you did the relationship before it?  Can you be effected so much by the bullsh*t you’ve gone through in past relationships that you don’t have as much love to give a new one?

Basically, can your love gas tank ever hit empty?

Theoretically, if you keep going through relationships, the needle on your love tank can hit “E”.  How to fill that up again is a mystery to me.  Going through all the crap you do in a relationship (nagging, crying about spending too much time with the fellas, and just other typical female bullsh*t), it can make you put an emotional wall.  Do you need a break from driving on the dating superhighway to fill your tank again?  We’re all cautious moving when moving on, so we keep a little bit in reserve.  But do we even have a full tank to start, or did we leave some with that triflin’ ho that we wasted our time with?

I’m no relationship guru; just a normal guy with some ideas about a lot of things.  But this one seems to make some sense.

(Note: it also makes you think that the key to this is simple: side pieces!!  Minimal upfront emotional cost and a great return on investment if you “manage your fund” properly.  See my past posts on side piece management if you need instruction.  I’m just kidding…kinda )

What do you think?  Do you ever start a new relationship with the same love as you did your last one? Can your love gas tank hit empty?  Should two guys even be talking about this at a bar??

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 87 words. It will take approximately 52 secondes for reading it.

Now that I’m in Central America, I’ve developed a new affection for soccer (excuse me, futbol) and am intensely watching the  World Cup.  It’s a true showcase of the world coming together in sport and in the spirit of brotherhood.  I could kick myself for not watching it sooner.

Go USA.  God Bless America…

And Serbia…

And Slovenia…

And we can’t forget about the brothas in South Africa…

I just want their whole, big, round “worlds” in my hands….

Feel free to comment.

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This post has 363 words. It will take approximately 3 minutes, 37 secondes for reading it.

In the 1992 film “Scent Of A Woman”, Al Pacino, plays Frank Slade, a grumpy and blind retired retired Army ranger who longs to find a woman that can love him.  He’s blind as a bat so he can’t look at a woman’s curves to stand his solider at attention.  Slade meets the love of his life at his young protege Charlie’s academic disciplinary hearing, for the first time smelling the “scent of a woman.”  It did something to him that captivated him.  That’s all he can go off of, but I think every guy has one particular thing about a woman that he finds irresistible.

For me, it’s glasses.  A chick that puts on a of black thin framed specks instantly moves up 2 spots on the “cuteness” scale. Maybe it’s a naughty-schoolteacher-spank-me-with-your-ruler-thing.  Keep me afterschool and do what you will.  I love glasses on chicks.  I don’t know why but I do.  Love them.

Perfect example, Tina Fey, the stupid SNL chick.  I find her annoying and overrated, and without her glasses, there is nothing remotely cute about her.  Put those black schoolteacher glasses, and she’s kind of a cutie.  Lauren Hill was had a sultry look in her specs…until Rohan Marley knocked her up 1000 times and she went crazy, crying through songs, solidifying our beliefs that she and Prozac need to be best friends.  I saw Gabrielle Union in a pair of specs once and damn near had a heart attack; should be against the law to be that fine.

(Glasses and leather.  I saw “Catwoman” just to see Halle Berry walk around in a leather bodysuit.  But I’m talking about glasses right now, so I digress)

Fellas, what really catches your attention about a woman?  Don’t give me the obvious either (huge, ripe ta-tas or an ass big enough to sit a cup on).  Think about it for a minute.  What really grabs your attention about a woman when she walks by? Nice eyes? Sexy Walk? Confidence?  I really want to know.  Maybe you’ll give me some new insight.

So what’s up fellas?  Feel free to comment.

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