Whats in her name?

A little more than some folk think when it come down to it. It seems like a petty thing to be worried about, but could never go with a chick named Amber. That's my sister's name, and if your sister and your lover have the same name, there's gonna be an awkward moment at some point in your life. That goes for any of my immediate female family members, its just kinda weird.

I could also never go with a chick with one of those flexidoublegender man names like Tracy for the same reason. A heterosexual man screaming a man's name during sex is not a good look...therapy is expensive. The name thing also covers any name I can't pronounce/spell. That's gonna end up pissin me off and you might get cussed out just for being named Xoptlatacl Jenkins...and that's not your fault, it's your parents'.

Lastly, I would never be able to go with somebody who shared a name with somebody else I hated. Every time I looked at you I would think about them, and I don't think wanting to make rough love to your face with my fist every time I hear your name is not conducive to a healthy relationship. Sorry, that's just the way it is...

Cooking: A letter to the otherside...

Dear womenfolk,

A central truth of life is that men like a good meal. That's black men, white men, tall men, short men, Democrats, Republicans...even lowly Redskins fans like food (not human food, but they eat something, I'm sure...). Thus, the ability of a female to make a decent meal is extremely important. Seriously, you can not even be all that cute and being able to cook can do something for you. I've seen it happen many and plenty a time...a solid kitchen game can make up for many physical deficiencies and give a woman as much as 2 points on the standard 10-point scale. There's a huge difference between a 5 and a 7, trust me.

See, the reason why the cooking stands out so much is...not a whole lot of chicks do it anymore. Its kind of a lost art. Anybody can just look great...hell, that's why Jesus gave us plastic surgery...but what can you do besides that? Somewhere in between y'all getting to vote and today, most females decided that cooking wasn't important anymore. Well I'm the man to tell you that those females are wrong. Men get hungry every day. Starving is not that move, and it may get you by now...but if a man can't eat at home, he'll go to McDonalds. I mean that both as a literal statement and a figurative analogy.

This rule seems to apply to chubby girls more than most...you see, their cooking is so good they get high on their own supply and gain weight, which ain't really their fault. By the same token, their cooking is so good, it's irresistible to men...and therefore just as good as having any other of those wonderful lady features some of y'all have. A fat ass is nice, but you can't eat it. (Um...you know what I mean...)

This also goes for chicks who look a certain way. (I told you, I don't use the u-word anymore...its not nice...) So what if you look like some weird hoodrat Pokémon...if you can hook a steak up, there's love for you somewhere. A hungry man will put up with a whole lot for a decent meal. Jealous and posessive? You might possess him forever if your pasta is on point. Are you a total bitch? Its okay, somebody will deal with your crazy ass if you can fry up some chicken. Serial cheater? I know dudes who will cope with it in exchange for a full stomach. Point is, being handy with a pan can really smooth out all your rough edges...nobody's mad with their mouth full.

Lookit, we're not askin you to slave over a hot stove all day everyday...this ain't 'Leave it to Beaver', I'm aware. It doesn't necessarily have to be all the time (really helps tho) and things out of boxes, prepared properly, do count. Most of us aren't even too picky...so what you ain't Rachel Ray, practice makes perfect, dammit. We're willing to accept a few beta meals while you learn what the hell you're doing. Yes, you can expect a couple feedings in return...that's only fair. I'm just telling you the chick with the ring fed her man at some point. You can take it how you want it...



Minor Life Failures 5- Holding Penalty

You're walkin into a corner store with somebody walkin...oh, say, 7 feet behind you. You open the door for your ownself, because you obviously can't walk through walls...but you have home training right? There's somebody a reasonable distance behind you, so you kinda do that thing where you move through the doorway real slow while still pushing the door long enough so the next person can touch it while its open.

That's nice of you...but that person behind you decides they wanna take they sweet old time. When most folk see somebody holding a door for them, they have the common courtesy to speed up they walk a tiny bit. Not this asshole...so you're kinda standing there midstride (kinda lookin like the Jumpman logo, but on the ground) with the door in your back hand for 3-5 seconds, looking back at the person, who is now too close to just let the shit go and hit em in the nose. They finally come, of course they don't thank you (they don't have home training like you), and they keep it movin before you even have a chance to reprimand them. Its really awkward, trust me.

Well, there's a few solutions to this one, some obvious, some not so. One is to just never hold the door for nofuckinbody, point blank period. That's kinda rude tho...I can't do it cuz I'm scared my mommy is gonna randomly be walking behind me some day and I'm gonna let the door shut on her pretty face. I imagine its super embarrassing to have to cut a switch in public as a grown ass man. Another one is to loudly bark 'YOU'RE WELCOME' as they pass through the door. It makes a bit of a scene, but usually it at least earns you a sheepish apology. The one I haven't used yet (but am gonna before I die) is whenever somebody goes through a door I'm holding without a 'thanks' or at least a smile (females only, thx) theyre gonna get picked up, slung over my shoulder and bodily removed to the outside of the door before having it slammed in they face. I'm not sure how legal that is, but damn if folk wouldn't learn after a few times being bounced from the corner store.

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 18- Not Igzaktly...

What's wrong with this sign? Well, lemme start by sayin there's 2 types of folk in this world...those who immediately picked out what was wrong, and those who will stare at the pic like one of those 'Magic Eye' picpuzzle things that you gotta look at a certain way to see the hidden image. I'll make group 2's life way easier by just telling you that it says '5% OF all tats'. 5% of all tats...what?

Of course I know they mean '5% off all tats' but here's the thing: attention to detail is pretty much the entire essence of the tat biz, which brings me to my point: If I can't trust you to get your own fuckin grand opening sign right, how ima trust you to painfully mark my body in a permanent manner? I can't watch you to make sure you doin it right all the time... I might marry some girl named Michelle, go there to get her name tatted on me (imagine that lol) and end up with 'Michael' on my neck. There's nothing gangsta about that. Congrats Igzakt...I don't even know where your shop is, but you lost my business already.

Never trust a redhead...

fittedwearer's note: go Cowboys! Nothing in the least to do with the post, but fuck it...its my site...anyways...

You think you slick as hell, don't you Wendy's? Just think you can pull the bun over our eyes and nobody will notice...well I did, you heartless bastards. Your deception will be exposed and your restaurant will be seen for what it is...you're not ran by sweet little freckled 8-year old girls at all, just business suit clad, profit margin obsessed, shoulder pad wearing shysters...a slicksteraunt. What, you don't know what I'm talkin about? You must not have caught it yet...I'll explain.

See, Wendy's has recently started running commercials talking about how in honor of their 40th anniversary, for a limited time they have certain 'menu classic' items available for 99 cents. Its a gift from Wendy's to us to show how much they care...anyway, these items are the chili, Snack Attack, small salad and Frosty. Omg, that sounds like a sweet deal right? Only 99 cents for those great foodstuffs? Damn, I'm only 99 'take-a-penny, leave-a-penny' trays away from some cheap eats. That's awesome...

One tiny problem tho...you see, as anybody who has ever been broke, hungry, and near a Wendy's knows, those things have ALWAYS been on their dollar (99 cent, whatthefuckever) menu. Aha! Sneaky, Wendy's...very sneaky. That's not even the worst part tho...the fucked-ded-up-est part is they actually took a few things OFF the dollar menu. Where's the Crispy Chicken, the small fries, the nuggets, all that shit? Yeah, you remember 3conomics...they musta took that class off the campus. None of that is nowhere to be found now...they tacked a few pennies onto the cost of most of the dollar menu and now they're some stupid price like 1.39 or 1.17. What part of the game is that!? Just gon leave us with a shell of a menu? That's how you feel?

Besides it being downright mean to make cheap food more expensive (Wendy's, a billion-dollar multinational corporation, can afford to let the broke folk eat for a dollar...I mean shit, times is hard) its just fuckin evil to do that, and then make it seem like you're doin something good for people. That's like not only giving somebody a shirt out of their own closet for they birthday (complete with box and bow), but burning a few of the shirts they already have too. You realize that your 'gift' has left them with less than they had before right? You gotta be the valedickheadian of your class to fall for that okiedoke bullshit. Same principle applies here, if you ask me. (Even if you didn't ask...you're still reading, right? That means you asked with your eyes.)

Anyway, this whole thing shows just how stupid they think the public is, like we just finna go for this. Just believe whatever the food massa tell you, huh? I say the hell with that...I want my dollar food, fuckdammit. I think its part of some diabolical scheme...if I can't get a Jr. bacon cheeseburger for a dollar, the terrorists have won. I won't accept your nugget propaganda, Wendy's! So, until Wendy's gets their shit together and puts the dollar menu back like it was, or at least just straight up admits what it did, consider me unplugged. I'm man-cotting that place. (I'm 21, I'm not a boy...) You should too. Fuck y'all Wendy's...you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time...but you can't get one by me.


Patience is a virtue...

but then again, I never been too virtuous. One of my fatal flaws is my impatience. I can't wait worth shit...the reason why probably has some internal psychological basis based on some deep seated issues from my childhood or some such bull...but I'm gonna go ahead and boil it down to 'I don't fuckin like it'. One of my favorite words is 'Go!' Even as a baby, I would make my own bottles when my mommy took too long. (Don't ask how, gahdammit, just smirk and keep readin.) When I say I'm delay-coping challenged, I mean it. Its just not my thing...it might actually be a legit medical concern. It actually causes me pain. I think its the anticpation of gettin it the fuck overwith that gets me. Especially when it involves fun shit like amusement park rides. If the line is over a certain length, I just won't do it...I can't fathom these mafuckas who are willing to wait in line for hours to do something that takes 5 minutes tops. No, I've never waited in line for sex, so that don't count... (*rimshot* I'll be here all week ladies and gents, tip your waitress...) Seriously though...being stationary puts me in a bad mood.

I've missed plenty of things like that because the wait was too long and not once regretted it. I don't give a flyin fuck if the attraction involves strippers, liquor and free cheesesteaks, (well...MAYBE if it was all 3 of those...) if I gotta wait 3 hours to get in, you can keep it. There are better things I can do with my life than standing around gettin pissed off that I'm standing around pissed off. That concept never really appealed to me...I was a big line-jumper as a kid, and still am if I won't get caught (or if the folk in front of me ain't gonna do nothin about it...my spot, punk!). No shame in my game...you wanna stand there and twiddle your thumbs for hours on end, more power to you. Me my own personal self, I fux with instant gratification.

Oh, and if you live more than a hour away from me and you haven't seen me in a while, I ask that you don't take it personally. My problem with the waiting extends to highways and byways. Hell, its compounded by the fact that a long ride requires you to sit relatively still for an extended period of time, which is, to say the least, not one of my strong points. I really don't think I've sat still voluntarily for more than half an hour since 3rd grade. I'm hyperactive, fuckin sue me. Driving, riding, plane, train, automobile...it don't really make me much of a never mind...I just can't do it. After hour 1 I start itchin to move as far away from where I'm sittin as possible. After hour 2, I start considering doing a kidnap-hostage-escape-style tucknroll out of whatever vehicle I'm in. After hour 3, I start havin half serious homicidal thoughts about random people who share the car/bus/train/road/(I won't say plane...won't have my black ass booked for terroristic threats...) with me.

On 1 particular ride to Baltimore, stuck in a super clusterfuck of a traffic jam, all I could imagine was me with a rocket launcher blowing cars in front of me to kingdom come so we could get through. That's just not safe for anybody involved. So I'm sincere when I say I'm sorry to text message pen pals and e-friends I haven't seen in years. It's not you, its me. Well, maybe I shouldn't be so broad with it. I can take a long ride...on the condition that I'm twisted. As we all know, taking a drink or blazin up (if you're into that type of thing...umf does not endorse the use of illegal narcotics, blah blah blah...) is the equivalent of lubricating the hands of time, and that's universal. This serves as further proof that 87% of life's problems can be mitigated temporarily or solved completely with intoxication. However, I digress...and what's more, I don't have the patience to get back on topic, so I guess I'll end it here lol...fuck it its Sunday, I got football to watch, dammit!


Just kill me then...

I never really understood the phrase 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'...to me at least, that's a full rack of baby back bullshit. Just cuz you don't die don't mean your shit is straight. Shit, I'd rather die than go through some shit... What doesn't kill you could have paramedics lookin for a special part of you that got thrown in the woods. You didn't die, but now you dickless. I'm sure you dont feel too powerful then... What if you get hit by a truck and survive, but now you in a hospital dribblin creamed corn for the rest of your life? How strong is yo ass then? Maybe what happened didn't kill you, but puts you in a nice padded room for the remainder of your days. I wanna see you lift weights then. No, it didn't kill you...but are you really stronger? Not bloody likely. Point being, there are a few fates worse than death. It might not have killed ya...but just might have made your life not worth living. Oh, and just because somebody said some nonsensical shit a long time ago don't make it good advice when you repeat it now...kthxbye...

*fittedwearer's note: this ain't a suicide note, or a cry for help, or a wish to be taught a valuable, life-changing lesson on the indomitable human spirit or no gay shit like that. Just a commentary like any other on here. My life is pretty awesome, and if i have anything to do with it, I intend on living it for the foreseeable future. As always...just sayin...

Random Thoughts 14- Half-Baked

If you dug out all the cookie dough balls from cookie dough ice cream, put them on a baking sheet and baked them, do you get cookies? I mean...it seem to make enough sense, but it just seems like there's something wrong with it... Tell me quick tho, I'm almost smacked enough to try...


ETCAM #4- Cow & Chicken

Look at it. It's so wrong, yet so delicious...if you're like me, you're gonna try it one day soon...if you're not, you probably just threw up lookin at that pic. Its exactly what it looks like...the perfect marriage of a McChicken and a Dual Burger McDouble or whatever the fuck they're callin a dollar 2-patty sandwich at McDonalds nowadays. Its one of the best pieces of evidence I have that 2 or more animals can live happily under one bun. (Bacon, which of course goes with damn near anything, doesn't count.) Yes, its fat as hell...but aren't all the best tasting things?

Like so many great food-related discoveries, this one was stumbled upon in one of my intoxicated eating fests. I don't know what made me do it, or what made me eat it...I actually sat there and looked at my new creation for a few seconds, wondering what I had just done. That only lasted about 2 jiffies tho...shit, I was hungry...I went for it. After I had finished, there was like a 15 minute afterglow type thing where my eyes got real low and I got real relaxed. This is one of the hallmarks of a great munchie food. I'm glad I only ate 1, 2 woulda put me in a coma. Anyway, the taste is neither chicken or beef, but some new delicious flying hybrid beast...like an animal God forgot to create. Its hard to describe, but easy to love. So if this appeals to you, and you're ever twisted and have 2 bucks, put your initial reactions (and common sense, should you still have it in your state) aside and just do it...you'll be glad you did.

Für Patrice

This poem is based on a sad-but-true story...and goes out to a girl I know that I'll call Patrice who...doesn't seem to like me anymore at all...guess that means I can do this...

*strums single note on guitar*

Now this is the story of homely Patrice
Whose looks could not get her a man in the least
with unfortunate face and a frame oversized
she's often made fun of...oh what a surprise...
They call her 'fat bitch', 'Big Red' and 'Shamu'!
Fuck yeah, it is mean, what's worse is its true...
you were a nice girl, not your fault that you fat
But realize...I just don't like you like that...
I tried to be nice, but that was misconstrued...
Cuz I speak every day does not mean I love you.
All the others is mean, so I'm nice, that's just me...
Like that one song say, we all need somebody...
but how you in love cuz I say 'hi' and 'bye'?
Well, I might could love you if it weren't for my eyes...
I'm sorry I'm shallow, but your navel so deep
that baby birds go there to rest and to sleep...
You a big'un, nosir there can't be no mistakin...
walk up to my desk, make my pictures start shakin.
I led you on? Girl, what's on your biscuit?
I don't even know you...you got shit aaaaall twisted.

Its not like just you being big breaks the deal
but you not even pretty...its kinda unreal...
Its just not just enough you outweigh me by far...
must you also vaguely resemble Goldar?
If it wasn't you, damn would I be flattered...
fuck those who gon lie, to a point looks do matter...
You could be nicer looking, then maybe we'd work...
but the ugly truth is...baby, you hurt...
and that's just a stigma no one can erase...
chick large of the body, repugnant of face.
I don't really care, but I really must stress
you play youself hard with the way that you dress
I'm no fashionista, but ill ask you this:
who wears pink glasses over the age of 6?
That crazy red wig, you a laughinstock!
Do us all a favor and take that shit off...
We know that aint real, that jawn just sewn in
you black, you know damn well you wrong for that, friend...
You just not my type, ain't that plain to see?
Like you cut science class, there's no chemistry...

Now its one thing to like me and be on my dick
But I've heard it told that twas YOU stole my pic!
Where they do that at? Who told you that's cool?
You drawlin for that...na yousa scraight fool...
Check this out babe, that ain't cute its creepy
its not a good look, can't stalk no one sweetly...
I don't understand, just what satisfaction
yo ass get from mimicking 'Fatal Attraction'?
Why the fuck would you do that, that shit is just weird...
and just why you stole it? *shudders* hope its not what I fear...
what did you do? Did you build a shrine?
To sit there and look at, lust after and pine?
My pic's prolly sticky, I don't like it one bit
I'll never touch you, that's the closest you'll get.

You can't get this pipe, I'm sorry, that's real...
maybe you could if you had some appeal.
How do you have kids? I sure wouldn't fuck you...
its enough that you shiesty withouth bein a duck, too...
I was nice, we was cool...now we enemies?
Just cuz I don't think of you sexually?
It was never to be, you never had chances
I stiffarm all of your romantic advances.
You actin like that when I let ya down lightly?
You wanna war with words and verbally fight me?
You just gon be bitchy? Hate freely? Throw stones?
Aight...I'll throw one back, then leave you alone...
Got a quarterback arm, and a lot betta aim
Yours missed completely, mine's bout to cause pain...

Comin up to 11, just to say 'hey'
Stops being cute at 16 times a day...
I'm all for attention, and love being liked...
and I like you the best...heeheehee, na sike...
Its cool that you liked me, believe me that's fine
but to get down with you? *pssh* There ain't enough wine
in all Wine and Spirits in all of Philly
to make your weird ass look attractive to me!.
Yamean, let's be real, get a mirror and see it...
I wouldn't fuck you with an Eagles fan's penis.
You're guilty of murder, killed countless erections
Surprised you ain't learn to handle rejection...
I told you the truth, don't fold up your face
coulda just led you on, just let you give chase.
I just said 'no thanks', put you up on game.
You just can't be cool, you gotta act lame?

How you upset cuz I told you point blank?
Don't look any better cuz your attitude stank!
Just cuz I don't want you, you wanna be mad?
I just had to tell you...mmm, I kinda feel bad...
but fuck it...hell, I'll get over it quick
Especially since you gon start talkin shit!
Just cuz I don't want you? Now that's immature...
Are you gon stop now, or do you want more?
If its more you want, fuck yeah I can dish it
but I don't think this topic you wanna revisit.
I was gon stay quiet, and leave it alone
til you decided you weren't gonna act grown
That eroded my conscience, I feel justified!
*whispers* (please just don't go home and commit suicide...)

Close that pill bottle, yo! Put down that knife!
You won't be with me, so move on with your life.
Yeah I admit, this was kinda mean...
but you're older than me, and you actin 13!
4th grade shit: "He just gon say 'Na, that's out'...?"
"I'll spread bullshit lies! Put his name in my mouth!"
"Do my TMZ thing, yeah, that'll show him!"
"How dare he not want to be nothing but friends?!"
You holdin a grudge cuz I ain't take it there?
That's what's hot in the streets? I wasn't aware...
We gossip bout folk now? Oh that's what we do?
Spread lies at the gig? Say shit that's not true?
I woulda been cool, but you had to do that
I hope you are smarter...learned something, in fact...
Listen, I'll stop...in fact, wish you well.
I just hope umf don't land me in hell (hahaha)

*sigh* I feel betta now...

umf unpaid (for now) endorsements: the 'Zap Racket'

Now this right here is a good application of 'electrical impulses'. This wonderful device, which I bought in some random Chinese variety shop for $2, doesn't have a name...at least one that I know about, seeing as the packaging (that I'm so pissed I trashed...) just had some foreign language and crudely drawn insects with thunder around them. For the purposes of this post tho, ima just call it a zap racket. Why? I feel it fits and sounds aggressive enough for a man to use...

Anyways, this thingamajawn uses 2 AA batteries to deliver a vicious electric shock to any small flying critter (or...anything/body else you wanna put a little voltage through...not saying you should, just saying it can...) that you wish was a lot more dead. Its more or less a bug zapper that can play offense. I find it hella useful cuz I'm allergic to bee stings, don't like mosquitos, and...pretty much have a distaste for insects in general.

Using it is easy, if you're coordinated at all...just hold down the yellow button on the side to start the electric current through the wires (there's a little light that lets you know when the juice is on) and get your Andy Roddick on. I don't feel I should have to tell grown folk this, but I'll say it anyway...once you hit the kill button, don't touch the wires, Harvard grad. When it hits an unfortunate flying critter, it emits little blue bolts and a satisfying crackle as a signal that you've done the job. It works, effectively and every time. Thank you, inventor of the zap racket...you've improved my quality of life at least 3%.


Inventions Nobody Fuckin Asked For- The Ab Belt

K, so I think we've all seen this by now...this device claims to 'stimulate' your ab muscles with 'electrical impulses', the result of which is, supposedly 'the rock hard abs you've always wanted'! Best part is, your chubby self doesn't have to do anything drastic, like excercise....you can literally sit around the house, eatin bonbons and watchin your stories with this on and ride the shocks to a better body. They even have extenders for folk who are too big around to use it standard (if you that fuckin obese, the shock pads aint touching your abs...you're pretty much shockin a bunch of fat...so if you smell bacon, turn it off!)...so the whole fatfuck family can get in shape! Sweet deal, right?

Wrong. First of all, that sounds painful than a mafucka. Electrical impulses? Don't that sound like a form of aggressive interrogation they use on war criminals? 'Oh, he's still not talking? Go get the car battery and nipple clamps...the electrical impulses should loosen his tongue!' Number 2, you can 'stimulate' your ab muscles all you want...tickle em, shock em, scratch em, caress em...but if they're covered by a 7 inch thick layer of fat, guess what genius? They're not gonna show! How you gonna have a chiseled muscular system and be fat as hell around it? Oh, that's right...you can't. You ever notice that the only folk they show wearing these are...arlready in shape? That's a dead giveaway this shit don't do nothing besides cause what I would imagine is some serious discomfort. If you wanted a torture device, you shoulda bought a bed of nails or a spiked dick collar or a clit-sized belt sander or some shit...

Even if the shit did work, if you that concerned about your body, rather than do a few sit ups, you gon give yourself repeated electrical shocks? You that lazy? You want nice abs that bad? How bout you...oh, idk...hit up a few hundred crunches? Oh imagine that...excercise to get in better shape...what a novel idea... The only use I can see for this thing is to amp up the voltage and make a human shock collar type thing to train disobedient girlfriends with powerful shocks to the gut. (Just kiddin, female rights shock troops...prolly...) But on some real shit, if you think your fat ass can just strap on some magic belt and you a few electric currents away from a 6 pack...you should probably just put it on, turn it to full power and go swimmin. It doesn't work, and even if it did, its just a bad idea overall...

YOU have kids!?

I wonder why everybody I know around my age either has or wants a kid. It kinda pisses me off cuz a lot of the same people that do are the least fit to raise a child. A lot of people I know can't even manage they own fuckin lives without havin somebody else's to handle too. I mean, don't we have enough substandard and absentee parents in the world raising (or not raising) fucked up kids without you adding on?

Some bitches refuse to understand that once you have a kid, your #1 priority is that kid. Over work/school/your girlfriends/hoing around/whatever else. Every kid needs a mommy. (I hope you never read any of this, but hi mommy! Thx for...y'know...doin a decent job raisin me and shit...love ya!) That kid was literally a part of you for 9 months, and figuratively will be hopefully forever. You had 3 months to do something about it if you wasn't ready, and you coulda gave the kid up for adoption if you don't 'believe' in that...but you kept the child on both counts so take care of it! I'm sorry, if you in the club or gettin ran through by some random dude or wherethefuckever and your kids are home alone drinkin hug juices and eatin Pixy Stix and roman noodles for dinner, you are a bad parent...not only should your kids be taken from you, you should be taken into the main street nearest your house and beaten publicly.

Don't even get me started on how I feel about dudes who don't take care of they kids once they have them. Point blank period, you are not a man if your don't care for your seeds. I've always maintained that having both parents (or at least a male and female adult role model who are willing to combine efforts to raise a kid...I know how shit is...) is extremely important to rearing a reasonably well-adjusted semi-normalish child. So how can you, as a man, look at yourself in the mirror and know that no matter what else you did with your life, you failed at your prime responsibility? Having balls doesn't make you a man...having the balls to be a father to your fuckin kid like you got some gahdamn sense does. You made it, raise it...bottom line.

Some people don't realize that once you have a kid, you are responsible for the cute little monkey 25/8 for the next 16-23 years...its yours. Those folk are either irresponsible (lack of protection or birth control...who still goes raw in randoms in 2009?), in love with the IDEA of a baby, but not actually ready to care for one...or just plain fuckin stupid (always gotta account for that).

Why are you not willing to maintain your child? Why your baby all fat and unhealthy cuz all they eat is chinese food, Zebra Cakes, and chicken nuggets? Why your kids can operate the xbox at 3 but can't read? Why your kids ALWAYS ashy? Why your baby don't never wear no shirt? Why your kids got grape juice on they shirt but drinkin Capri Sun? Why you wait til your baby diaper draggin on the ground to change it? Why is your kids running around in circles outside near broken glass with no mafuckin shoes on like tiny sugar demons, feet blacker than Akon's kneecaps? More importantly, why are you in the house on the phone with Rashonda while it goes down? Precious, why you got 6 kids by 4 daddies? Why you have a kid to Tyrell when he got 5 kids he dont take care of now? Damon , why you got 7 kids by 3 different chicks and ain't take care of the 1st one? Why do you even have kids if you have no concept of what it means to raise one?

Its not that I don't like babies...lawd lawd no let it never be said I said no shit like that. I don't know where folk get the idea that I don't like kids. Small children are adorable and fun for a while. I loves the chirrens...as long as I can give em back to their parent(s) when they done being cute. The crazy thing is they love me too. I seem to be irresistible to all kids under 5...I guess the babies feel safe because I'm just the worlds strongest kid myself and the slightly older ones, who can run and play and fight like me because I'm willing to get down on the ground and participate...plus I guess they think my big lanky ass is a jungle gym...which is fine, me and the younglings have a good relationship. I think ill be a pretty good dad when its time. But am I ready to be a father, emotionally, mentally...hell, financially? Nope...not yet. That's why I don't have kids...I can't take care of one, and I realize that...so I feel its much better to wait until I am instead of knockin up the first skirt that says yes. If you know you're not ready, or don't want the responsibility, or just don't wanna do it...how bout you don't have kids? Just sayin...


Lies They Tell the Chirrens- Facing the Truth

When I was little (well, when I was young) they always used to tell me that if I made ugly faces, eventually they would stay like that. See, you can get confused because some people walk around with fucked up faces all the time (maybe you're one of em...if so, sry...), but the thing is they can still move them...if folks faces were staying like that because they made faces as a child, it would be the same fucked up face 24/7, like those 'laugh now/cry later' masks. However, the unfortunate lookin people I see can make weird looking smiles and frowns and every other facial expression...so they probably were odd looking from birth.

I still make faces at little kids today...and every time I stop, my face goes back to normal. I know plenty of people who do the same. Some folk look like they're makin a funny face all the time and the faces they made as a child have nothing to do with it...visual repugnance comes naturally. I bet some people wish if they made a straight face all the time, their mug would go to normal (no, not "back to normal"...you can't go back to where you've never been)...but that ain't the way it works. So that only means one thing, kids: that whole thing is just another...lie they tell the chirrens.

Now you know damn well...

So I'm on the 42 on the way to work, just chillin, listening to my usual noise...we had just passed 21st when this rather large chick(?) that I'll call big ole Brenda gets on, wearing some kind of muticolored poncho/muumuu/maternity hoodie deal. I was sittin in the back (funny how we sit in the back voluntarily now...thx anyway Rosa...) and there weren't that many people on there, so besides her interesting choice in clothing, I figured it wasn't gonna affect me too much...but the thing I should have learned by now is never to assume that SEPTA or any of the folk that use it will make sense on any given day.

She pays her fare (only once, which I don't think is fair considering how much space she took up...she should have to come up off at least $6.00) and looks around for a seat. Ignoring the several perfectly good and empty doublechairs in the front, she decides to make her own life harder by lumbering slowly toward the back of the bus. (I just KNOW the bus's gas mileage went down a tad...) I watch in amusement, wondering just what the hell she plans to do. After stopping at the middle and grabbing a pole to take a couple exhausted breaths (once again, why the fuck didn't you just sit your big ass in the closest seat like a normal person if 30 feet is a marathon for you?) she gathers up the strength to climb up the 2 steps to the back section.

As she struggled to move her prodigious girth up the stairs, everyone in the back kinda looked at her. For this to make any sense, it should be noted that the back was a lot more populated than the front, with generally not more than one seat skipped anywhere in the whole section. More importantly, not one of em was gonna accommodate her space needs. Slowly she approached, lookin like the world's biggest piece of Fruit Stripe gum, body vibrating with every step. I'm sitting kinda reclined in the back corner, thigh slightly taking up the vacant seat next to me because...fuck it, I'm a big guy, I like to stretch out a little. She made the ill advised decision to roll up to me, panting heavily, and give me that 'You should move so I can sit down' look.

I looked at the empty seat next to me, which was...oh...18" wide, give or take...then I looked at big ole Brenda, who was approximately the size of Dallas Cowboys left tackle Flozell Adams. I'm no math whiz, but those numbers don't add up...there is no way in THEE hell she was gettin in that seat. It's simple physics. I'm not even tryna be a prick here...but it woulda been like me tryna ride in a stroller (which is a mental image worth a giggle...but anyway). I wanted to say something witty and mean, as I enjoy doing, but then I decided it was too early in the morning to inherit bad karma, especially since I was about 7 blocks from work...I settled on smirking and looking out the window.

That did not stop big ole Brenda from standing there lookin at me expectantly. She looked at me, her gaze repeating "move" over and over, breath coming heavy and hot out her nostrils like a water buffalo. I'm not sure what the hell she wanted me to do for her. Did she want me to get up and off the bus or scrunch up to the wall or magically become 2-dimensional so she could have the 2.3 seats she needed to sit down? Either way, I wasn't gonna do it...fuck that, you shoulda sat your tons o' fun down where there was space for you. I could tell she was the type of person who swung on the little kid swings far past her being the size for it because she had no real concept of how big she was.

10 seconds into my little mental movie featuring big ole Brenda as a round child smashing playground equipment with her copious mass like it was made of pipe cleaners, I guess she got sick of waiting...she folded her face up and said 'Ex-CUSE me...' with the most attitude she could summon. She said this loud enough for me to hear over T.I. in my headphones. I smiled and paused my music. 'Can I help you?' I asked politely. That only served to further vex her. 'Could you move your leg so I can sit down?!' she demanded rudely.

Everyone around me snickered. See, these were reasonably intelligent humans who could plainly see that even if I dangled my fuckin legs out the window that big bitch wasn't gettin in that one seat. The seat was clearly a L, and she needed at least a XXL if not a free size chair. I decided to break this news to her in the nicest way possible for me. 'I...uh...don't think you can sit here...' I replied. She looked confused...I don't think it made sense to her. Big ole Brenda puffed herself up a little and tried again...maybe she thought a little extra 'tude would help her cause. 'Listen, can you just move?' she snapped.

That was the line. I be damned if I was just gonna let her stand there and breathe on me like that...fuck being diplomatic. I just came out with it: 'Lookit, I know you don't think you're sitting here under any circumstances, do you? Let's be real, miss...you won't fit.' A few people started laughing (which I really wasn't going for...I mean, she played herself here...) and she looked kind of hurt and angry. I wanted to go on about how standing would help her burn a few extra calories but I decided against it and just turned my music back on and let her stand there and figure herself out.

After another block of her standing there awkwardly damn near taking up the whole aisle, the person in the chair in front of me got up, maneuvered himself slowly around big ole Brenda's 6-foot soup can shaped body, and got off. She was finally able to sit down. She oozed herself into the seat with a contented sigh, gave me a dirty look and settled in for her ride to go wherethefuckever. I shook my head, got off at my stop and went to work with a new experience to tell...


Minor Life Faliures 4- Excuse Me Again

This one is likely to happen to a man, even more likely to happen to a black man, and is gonna happen at least once a month if you're a large black man.

You're walking, say in the supermarket. You're heading up the aisle to get your items, but there's a little old lady or somebody with a cart in the middle of the aisle in the way. You have home training, so in a polite, nonthreatening voice, you say 'excuse me'. But for whatever reason they don't hear you...maybe you weren't loud enough, maybe they're on the phone, maybe they were just off in their own little world for a halfsecond (an imagin-acation). Point is, they didn't hear, and are still obstructing your path.

'This is a problem.' you think to yourself. You said 'excuse me' and normally, folk move when you do that. Not this time tho...little old Florence is still where you tryna walk. Then it hits you...maybe if they didn't hear you the 1st time, if you repeat it they'll hear you...maybe they illiterate for the hearing and need to read what you said again. But this time you decide to put some bass and treble in your voice and increase your volume about 25%. She'll hear you for sure now...

'Excuse me...' you say in a firm, audible voice. You're just tryna be heard...but Florence turns around, aghast. See, when you tried again louder, that's the first time she heard you...so that just sounds like how you talk to folk...all aggressive and forceful and shit. You were just trying to get by, now you seem like you mad at life for no reason. You're that mafucka people look at like 'damn, what's his malfunction?' You know, the ig'nant one? Florence takes her cart and gets as far as she can against the wall without going through the shelves while clutching her purse tightly, you pass her almost wanting to apologize but feeling too awkward to. Good times...

I haven't quite figured out how to avoid this one yet, but I'm toying around with just going with it. They wanna act like I'm gonna be a angry militant black man, why not give em what they want? I thought about just using the Madden truck stick on anybody who gets in my way, but I think that's illegal and know it's rude. Maybe I should bark 'excuse me' in a attitudinal voice every time so at least I don't have to waste breath repeating myself. Possibly carry a boombox with Luda's 'Move, Bitch' on repeat? Something has to work...I just hope I can find a nice way to fix this. If not, ill be happy to try some of my current ideas lol

Conflict (of interest) Resolution: a letter to the otherside

Dear females,

There is pretty much no reason to complain about your boyfriend to another man (exceptions made for family, lifelong buddies and Dr. Phil) if you wish to maintain your relationship (and/or that man's sanity). Of course, if you're trying to get out of it, that's a pretty good way to go about it. Seriously, there's not a lot of helpful, constructive things for most guys to say in that situation. The most common advice is some version of 'you should just leave him then'...which is admittedly sometimes sound advice, but most times he has his own designs in mind when he says so.

You see, unless he has boy problems too, odds are he's a few short drinks away from tryin to fuck you...don't believe it? Ill share a stat with you that might get me kicked out of the male union for sharing state secrets: Did you know about 77% of the menfolk in your day-to-day life (give or take 30% depending on how attractive you are) would gladly pop if given motive and opportunity? Yeah, prolly him too. Whether he'd tell anybody is another post for another time and if you ask them, they might lie...but trust me, I've been a boy for a long time and know what I'm talkin about. He wants you to leave your boyfriend so he has a shot at ya. You know how many dudes are waitin out relationships right now? I won't put that number out there, but...best believe, its enough.

Since I'm talkin to the females, I assume you've seen enough romance movies/read enough fuckin Zane books to know how it goes down...girl has boyfriend problems, cries to male friend, male friend comforts girl, girl and male friend roll around on floor. Yeah, my point is rooted in fiction but hell...art imitates life. Its a common and avoidable process...of course, if that's what you're going for and that's the whole reason you chose that shoulder to cry on...by all means, go right on head, sweetie...but if you actually want help, its prolly not the best choice. How is making yourself vulnerable to another man helping your relationship with yours again?

All this is, of course, assuming he even cares. Maybe he has his own problems to deal with, maybe you're not pretty, maybe he's genuinely not interested in your relationship. Who knows? What I can tell you is there is a significant portion of dudes you know who just don't wanna hear that your boyfriend doesn't cuddle you anymore or won't fold his fuckin socks. For these people, listening to you prattle on about how he forgot your birthday is about as interesting as puttin M&Ms in alphabetical order. Spare this man...get a diary, or fuckin tweet about it (if you're into that kind of thing). He's prolly gonna tell you to break up with ole boy too just so he won't have to hear about him any more.

Whether he wants you for himself or just wants you to shut the fuuuuck up, it's a safe bet that you won't get much in the way of sympathy from any guy that has something to gain by the boyfriend not being there. The fact is, that's most of em. So unless you're absolutely sure the dude has your best interests and happiness at heart...do yourself a favor and talk to your girlfriends. (You do have female friends right? If not, oh are you gonna get it on here soon...) You know you only listen to them anyway... :p



The Numbers Game: An Interview

Experience or exclusivity? umf encountered this topic at work the other day, and while life has damn near taught him to employ a 'dont ask, don't tell' policy (if she lies, you'll prolly wish she told the truth, if she tells the truth, you'll prolly wish she lied, if its the wrong answer, you'll definitely wish you never asked) just for the sake of discussion, it was asked: how many is too many? Is there a number? After a debate at work (the average response there was about 6, though I heard as low as 2 and as high as 10), I deemed the topic interesting enough to not only bring here, but get a documented viewpoint other than my own on. On that note, I reintroduce my man Blaze, who I figured would have a candid and interesting perspective on the subject...plus he don't do shit all day, which gives him time to contribute here.

umf: What's good, dude...good to see you again, you becoming a regular around these parts...

B: Ain't shit, tryna make a dollar out of 15 cent as usual...what's up with you cuz?

umf: Gettin a real job would help...but anyway I'm chillin...

B: Oh, you just gon try to play me like that? Shit I gets my money, I does what I do...don't hate cuz you gotta drag your sorry ass down Center City every day at 8 in the fuckin morning *laughs* that's why the Cowboys lost, too...

umf: Don't make me kill you...anymafuckinway, yeah we was discussing some shit at work and I kinda wanted to see what you had to say...is there such a thing as too much sexual experience when it comes to females...

B: Hell no...I love a bitch that know what she doin...a chick with some sex game is that work...I love me a freak jawn, specially when she know how to su--

umf: Can I finish the question, horny nigga? Like I was sayin, is there such a thing as too many partners for a chick you gonna be with seriously? If so, where's the line?

B: Ooooh aight...that's a lil different...see, if I'm just out for a nut, fuck it...I don't even care how you learned what you did, just do it again...but my for-real girl? Like wifey, whateva?

umf: Yup, that kind...

B: Hell yeah there's a line...I gotta kiss my main bitch...I ain't gon be kissin you all in your mouth if you been bouncin around on this nigga and that...I don't know where you been...can't turn a ho into a housewife, I don't give a fuck how many vowels you buy...

umf: True...but what's the difference? I mean, its all in the past right?

B: That's one way to look at it...another way is I don't wanna think about the fact that mad other men know where all my bitches tattoos is at. That shit ain't cool. I don't wanna be linked up for real with some nigga's former smutty buddy...all ran through and shit, since when that been hot? Yeah if you get around, I can lay down with you too...but I ain't puttin my mouth on you, and that's real. Smutbuckets is fun toys, but marrying one? It won't be that, oh no, it won't be that...

umf: So you feel strongly about this...

B: Hellfuckinyeah...nigga don't sit there and front...I know you, you a respectable dude...you want some dickholster by your side for life? Really? You gon be that one dude who marries the town harlot and shit? Somebody gotta be with her eventually I guess...

umf: I might think I'm a superhero sometimes, but it ain't Cap'n Save a Ho...don't even take it there...if I do get married its gon be a chick I can take home, all that good shit. I don't really want to draw the town whore for a life-partner no more than anybody else...I'm not puttin a ring on some girl who also functioned as a pelvic thrust heavy-bag for the block/class/workplace.

B: That's right...see, you feel where I'm comin from...I'm Blaze Lyonhart, I got a fuckin rep to uphold, and gettin hitched to a practice girl ain't gonna do too much for me...

umf: So you sayin this hypothetical girl you gon marry has to be a virgin?

B: I ain't goin that far...like I said, I always got love for a chick who know what she doin, and hell, she had to learn some shit somewhere at some point...but damn, she could keep it on lock a lil, I'm sayin...just cuz you know what you doin don't mean everybody got to...

umf: I see what you sayin...hard to argue. So where's the line? Throw out a number...

B: Hmm...guess it would depend on her age...what's the average number, I know you done asked other mafuckas this same question, ole quizzin ass nigga...

umf: *Laughs* The average is like 6...some say they want her fresh out the box, most niggas say like 5, some say like 8, some say they don't give a fuck....and say she's your age...

B: She 23? Hmm...*long pause* around 5 I can be really comfortable with...not too much higher than that, I say 7 is the extreme and even that's pushin it to the limit...once you come near that double-digit mark, that's when you talkin about bitches who went through that smut phase at some point...and that is not attractive.

umf: That's about right...me my own personal self, I'd prefer a couple...make that few...less if I'm actually spendin my life with this girl...don't necessarily wanna be first, just don't wanna be 12th. You're in the ballpark...but where did you come up with the 'smut phase' theory?

B: Its easy, really. You said the bitch 23, right? See, I figure most folk start foolin around at 16, 17, round there. 7 is a different dude every year since then, or maybe she didn't have a boyfriend for a while and caught a couple extra pipes...point being, it average out evenly.

umf: Your math ain't no better than mine, and you talkin some averages and arithmetic shit...sit down somewhere *laughs*

B: Even I can divide 7 by 7, mafucka...anyway, if she got 10+ on her, either she started early and is prolly a smeeze, or started late, made up for lost time and...prolly is one too...I'm not interested...

umf: *laughs* Is that a fact?

B: Nigga I said it, ain't I?

umf: Aight, so if a chick has everything you ever wanted but her stats ain't right, it ain't goin down?

B: Shit, I've done it before...I was with this bad jawn named Yolanda for like 3 months...bitch was sexy, could cook, bop game was on point, all that...I thought I loved that girl...

umf: Damn what happened?

B: We had the history lesson, that's what...after I found out her numbers, I was disgusted...8, and she was only 19! Bitch, did you even go to class in high school or was you too busy gettin smutted out in the locker room? I can't go for that...I broke up with her that day.

umf: Damn...that's cold...

B: Na fuck that *laughs* it wouldnta even got that far cuz I usually run a background check on every chick I might go with...but she wasn't from around, so nobody had her history.

umf:Run a background check? What you use girlfax.com?

B: Is that real or some dumb shit you made up?

umf: Yeah its real...just log on, enter the chick's pussy registration number and...of course its made up, you dumb truck...

B: Ion know, you the one with the computers and all that shit...

umf: Yeah...still shoulda known...movin on tho, what about the common rebuttal that you as a man been doin what you do for however long, why can't she?

B: Man fuck that shit *laughs* Why females only wanna be treated equal when its convenient for them? Males and females is 2 different things. See, we wired that way...to sow our seed and shit...its a male instinct. Bitches is hoes by choice... *laughs*

umf: That won't go over well with some folk...fuck it tho, its my site, speak your mind patna...

B: Na real shit...think about it like this...dudes play offense, they play D...and I don't want some broad who let every other dude take it to the hole...

umf: Very subtle. Well I think I got your general point...that settles it, I'm settin the general consensus number at 6.5.

B: How the fuck you fuck half a dude?

umf: Its a statistical representation, dickhead...don't be a dumb nigga all your life...well we're just about out of type for today, any final thoughts?

B: Yeah...fuck you and your statis...stastis...stas...stats!

umf: *laughs* Pick up a book sometime...anyway, always a pleasure, fam...lets do this again next time I get writer's block...

B: Yup...

Death Message Redux- for the folk who should wear helmets fulltime...

So I don't think I was clear enough to everybody (apples) in 'Death Message'. Since folk aint get the message the 1st time, ima try this one mo'ginn. See, when I said textin while driving was only slightly smarter than takin a bath with a toaster, I really refer to everything that involves lookin at something else other that the road comin at you at 65mph and 2,000 pound rolling pieces of steel hurtling through space around you for an extended period of time. Yes, that includes messin with your gps (especially if you KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING ALREADY), playin with apps on your fancy phone (act like you had technology before in your life...you can't wait 5 minutes til you stop?), and looking through your fuckin CD book while driving with your knees.

Oh, and just because its not in your hands don't make it any better. Putting the thing in your lap only...uh...makes you have to look farther away for longer. Why don't you take it all the way and drive with a blindfold for 10 seconds at a time? Or how about those Beyonce shades with the chains and shit dangling in front of your eyes? Its the same gahdamn thing. Listen, like I said...if you wanna die on your own time, that's your biz. I believe in a person's ability to decide to kill theyselves, this is America, you have rights...but just beause you wanna offer your soul don't mean my number gotta be up too. Chill out, k?


Shit I dont know how folk lived without: QWERTY keyboard

How did folk send texts before this came around? Idk about you, but textin on a 9 number keypad is not what's up...sitting there like some kind of asshole... "555 22 999 22 2 222 33...damn...backspace backspace...444 22 1 66 333"...that is not what's up. Plus, ain't nobody tryna spend half a fuckin' hour typing 2 sentences letter by letter.

It got a little better with t9, but that shit is almost as bad...it was a poor attempt at guessing your input, which was like "Mad Libs" for the tarded. Had the nerve to call it "predictive text", too...that's not very helpful when every prediction it makes is wrong... Plus if you're not careful with t9, you could get the right button combo but the wrong word, and end up texting your boy "yeah I'm homo" instead of 'home' or some shit. One slip of the finger could change your life...it was a real gamble.

Finally, a couple years back they made a quantum leap in textnology with one of those ideas that are so obvious, nobody thinks of the shit...you type with a keyboard everyfuckinwhere else you type anything...why not put one on a cell phone to speed up text messages? A stroke of genius...the QWERTY keyboard for cell phones singlehandedly unlocked the potential for cell phones as the lifestyle devices everybody seems to have wired to their hips at all times...me included. So thank you, inventor of the cell phone keyboard...your revolutionary idea changed the world for the better...it's some shit I don't know how folk lived without.


Drunk with the Clicker: 1,000 Ways to Die

I've found that watchin the show "1000 ways to die" gives me insight on...1000 ways NOT to die. I mean, these things are factual stories of ppl who mostly brought about they own demise. Folk forfeit their lives in some stupid ass ways. There's one where a card-carrying genius tries to use his lawnmower as a hedgeclipper by liftin over his head and trimming the bushes and ends up doing the obvious. There's also one where some real rocket surgeons go out in the desert and start rolling up and smoking every plant they saw to see if any would get them high and they end up smoking poison sumac and dying. (Fitting ends to unfit stoners...)

Then there's one of my favorites, the one starring a true fuckin' champ who has...shortcomings... (he might have wanted those capsules that can make a MAN larger lol) This winner ties a big kielbasa to his leg with surgical tubing and goes to the club. He gets the attention he wants, but 3 hours later...wait for it...the tubing which has cut off the circulation to his leg, Fed-ex'd a blood clot to his heart, killing him. He richly deserved it. Believe you me, there's plenty more deadly stupidity where that came from if you watch the show. (I assume if you have a computer you have cable...it comes on Spike TV at random times of the day, I shouldn't have to tell you to check your local listings in 2009.)

You would think you don't have to tell reasonably intelligent homo sapiens not to do stupid shit like that...but either some mafuckas are different species or we really have actual real-life people who are that fuckin' stupid. Seriously, how are you that oblivious to the world around you? (Just in case by some chance one of the short bus alumni that I'm talking about is havin this read to you...PSA: Your lack of smart can make you very dead.) Like...if you die in that type of way, your parents should be taken out in the backyard and shot repeatedly for raisin a fuckin window-licking cretin. (I'm lookin at you, parents of child who drowned looking for SpongeBob and friends under the sea. You deserve death.) If you, or anyone you know is that idiotic to even think about try anything like the things described on the show...do them and their family a favor and hire a hitman to have them put down humanely. Yeah they'll still die...but they was a unintentional suicide waitin to happen anyway, and at least the whole world won't have to know they were a complete dickhead all their fuckin' life too. Anyway, watch with me if you want to live...

The Big Idea

Did you know that its a fact that 26% of Americans are obese? Twenty-six fuck-ing percent...which mean, obviously, despite the recession, 13% of girls still have enough money to buy and consume far too much food on a regular basis. Its crazy...but that's where I come in...look out for my new weight loss self help book: 'Bitch, lose the fork and jog!: small (literal) steps to a new you.' Ima be on the cover in a adidas sweatsuit runnin and bitin a carrot while givin a thumbs-up... Its finna change lives y'all. I try to help folk when I can lol


Inventions Nobody Fuckin Asked For- the EasyCurves

The 'Easy Curves'...(or the Tittyflex 7000, as I call it) is a device which purports to enlarge and strengthen the breasteses with a dual resistance thingamajawn or...whatever. Finally, help for the boardchested is on the way! No longer will niggas play chess or spades on your torso!

Riiiight...point is, if you ever seen the commercial, you know my problem with it...everytime they use it in the commercial, the parts being excersized move in a very disgusting way...like they dislocated. Now, me being me, if I say a titty did anything in a repulsive manner, rest assured it did. There are very few nonsexy tittiemotions, but this device has one.

It like...expands and tightens...remember the part in the Matrix where Neo jumps into Agent Smith and his body starts making those weird fleshy slithering movements? That's the effect the 'Easy Curves' has on those wonderful things. Its foul, trust me.

Not only is it seriously unattractive to watch, the results may not be quite what you expect...you see, I'm a titty connoisseur, and I know these things. They're made up mostly of fat, with an underlying pectoral muscle. The muscle is what you're excercisin, not the titty.

Your marble size twins ain't gonna magically plump up and get big, no...what will happen is your pecs gon be big than a mafucka and you gon have a small rounded rock solid bulletproof breastplate like those weightliftin bitches. Unless your husband beats you and you want a little protection around your vital organs, I really don't see why anybody would want that. Its stupid, its creepy, its unnecessary, it overall fails. Take it off the market, melt em all down, shoot the inventor, you know the drill...

Power Play

Aight, gentlemen...huddle up. Let's go zig 20, gun, dual slot fly on 2 on 2... Ooookay, now that I scared all the females (you don't count, Ci...) off with football talk, we can discuss this. We talk about it all the time...the power of the pussy. Its built and destroyed nations, started wars, brought down the greatest of men and causes everyday mafuckas to go out of they way just to attempt to please some bitch who may or (prolly) may not give you what you want. From a early age, I saw problems with this arrangement.

I mean, why should a female, just cuz she looks pretty, or got a big ole set of this or a huge, round that get preferential treatment from everybody? Its almost sickening to see from a 3rd party standpoint. For illustrative effect, I introduce you to the fictional Tasha. There's many Tashas, more than a few in every school. Tasha developed earlyish and...devloped well. Of course, she has been appreciated by young males for her developments for a while now. If she's smart, she sees why they like her and how she can use it to her advantage.

By age 16 in high school she learns that her feminine wiles are a gift to her. She manipulates folk with plastic smiles and some sweet meaningless words so they'll carry her books, get her lunch for her, kiss her ass (in the figurative way, not the literal way they prolly want), hold doors open for her even with a doorstop there, take her to the movies, basically tell her she is the greatest bitch in the world, cinnabon flavored nipples and all. This brings us to a crossroads, and our little Tashas generally split into 2 groups here.

Group One will slap stomachs and bounce around on anybody they want...6,7,8 in 2 years cuz the male bouncees are more than happy to oblige them. They'll catch veneral avian disease or get pregnant 3 times before they hit 20...I'm not even gonna discuss em anymore.

Group Two will fall for that one probably older, probably hustler dude, and inevitably get her heart broke because she was too blinded by the whatever to realize he ain't want nothin but pussy from jump st. At this point, she either bounces around until she becomes a group 1 or takes the path of our Tasha and enters a period of her life where had discoverd that she can manipulate random dudes with her assets.

It don't stop at high school tho...even in the adult world, folk forcelaugh at Tasha jokes, agree with everything she fuckin says...send this girl flowers, buy lunch for her, go do little job related errands for her tryna get in her pants...all the while not seeing that she's just using 97% of the dudes who cross her path specifically for those services. Even cops sometimes won't give tickets to a chick who flash a little curvy skin. Its like a spell they put on folk to remove not only they balls, but they common mafuckin sense. You don't know how sickening it is to see a fine frame, a nice rack and some pearly whites turn a man into a sniveling, subservient punk.

The fucked-up-est part about this ain't that it works, or that Tasha knows it works and expects it to work...its that a lot of the time, the only dudes she does give what they want...are the ones who tell her no! See, Tasha is so used to hearin 'yes' on demand that 'no' is new and exotic. She becomes interested in the one who tells her no because she wants to know: "I'm beautiful, I'm sexy, I'm fine as shit...niggas supposed to give me whatever I want just cuzza that! What's wrong with him?" This gentlemen, is the key to shuttin off the power. Say no to that bitch!

'Can you carry my books?' No.

'You should take me to the movies...' Naw...

'Hey, you should buy me that new Lady Gaga CD!' Nyet.

'Hey boo, you should go get this thing from another floor for me' Yeah but you should get it urself, sexy...

'AJ, babe...could you pick me up some lunch while you out?' Na, but youre invited to come and buy your own lunch :)

Its not like I don't do shit for females just on the strength that they females...I'm a nice guy...there's a difference between favors and manipulation...its when they ask me to do something and expect me to do it simply because she looks nice. I'm not a bad lookin dude and you don't see me scavenging for favors that I can do myself from every Keisha, Nisha, and Bonqeesa. You know damn well if your face was unfortunate you wouldn't ask me to do no shit like that.

Personal anecdote: In one of my jobs there was this chick ima call Marketa. Marketa was a very attractive young lady, possessed of many of the hills and valleys prized by the heterosexual man. She also had a dude, but that ain't stop all my coworkers from bein on her top. I don't chase it, I get good enough stats just chillin, so it was whatever to me. Marketa pretty much acted normal towards me...hi, bye, work related shit...until lunchtime about 2x a week...she would come over to where I worked, position herself to make sure I could see her wares and in a cooing bedroom voice, asked me to buy her lunch.

In the interest of full disclosure I did do it once for some face time...but I peeped game, knew this girl wasn't really tryna get down and just wanted a free lunch, so I fell back and paid it no mind. Now I would usually smile at that, tell her 'Na, dawg' and kept it movin. She would usually get 'mad' (she was gon get it from the next nigga anyway...) and say something like 'I'm not your friend no more' and leave...only to come back later in the week to repeat the process with that same smile and jiggle (yes 'j' not 'g'...it was a big part of her presentation.

After a while, the charade wore thin. The next time she asked, I asked 'Why should I?' She paused for a second and said 'Cuz you love me...' 'You sure you checked your facts on that?' I smirked. She said, 'I'm sexy, how could you not love me?' I played the game with her: 'What is you bein sexy doin for me? We ain't fuckin, last I checked, so you bein sexy and a dollar gets my a double cheeseburger...' She start in with 'It could be doin a lot if you start being nicer (give her her way more)' That's when I pulled out Darvin's theory of Revolution (Thx to my man Darvin...yeah!) which goes "Be clear, I want you, but I don't need you. I know what you about babes...I'm not him.'

She looked shocked, like nobody ever put her in her place before. 'Aight, you got it...' she said before she went to Jim to pull her act on him (he gave her what she wanted...). I thought that was the end of that...until at the end of the day, when Marketa walked up, pressed herself against me, gave me her phone number, and walked away. (Never called...that type of broad irks me...)

The lesson to be gleaned lies here...women do NOT have to have power over you...sure there are fine bitches galore...but that's just the point...there's fine bitches galore! You're givin her the power by both giving her what she wants and gettin nothin but hope and a crusty sock in return. If she don't like you not kissin her ass or payin her attention 24-7 or showering her with gifts and y'all don't even fuckin go together, on to the next! If one don't like the way you handle your handles, hasta!

I'm not sayin there's anything wrong with pleasing a woman, lawd lawd no let it never be said I said no shit like that. I'm just sayin we as brothers have to work to keep the pussy off the pedestal. Understand, these girls thrive on y'all chasin em around actin like fools...it fills in the holes a lot of em have with they self esteem. If she's out of your league, its your fault! Nobody's out of your league unless you think so. Hear that? You don't have to be a sucka every time you see a skirt! Put some bass in your voice and be a man! Ready!? BREAK!


Fightin' Words

Contrary to popular belief, there most certainly is such a thing as fightin' words. umf defines these as insulting words and phrases delivered in a serious manner in person (and increasingly, through text and online) that, by their very nature, invite a physical attack. Now, of course there's always the option of diffusing/walking away from the situation, which is perfectly acceptable and a very mature way to handle it. However, you gotta either do one or the other. You can't just sit there and take the shit in silence...then yousa bitch. Here is a partial list of some common utterances that usually result in combat (between males...maybe somebody can let me know about some female-female fightin words...I know there are a few by now...)

1) faggot- Eminem was right when he said the word don't even have to necessarily refer to homosexuals...basically it translates to 'punk ass bitch', which is a direct challenge of a man's masculinity...besides just not bein a nice thing to say...

2) That's why I fucked yo *bitch/momma/sister*- Whether true or not, the sheer vulgarity of the assertion is what gives this its impact. Don't nobody wanna hear that shit. Double asswhup points if it's true, triple points (and therapy) if it's true and he said he fucked yo brother/dad.

3) Suck my dick- If he means it in the common, nonsexual, figurative, disrespectful sense, its bad enough. If it's an actual come-on and a literal demand, not only are you either lost in way downtown Philly or got the wrong cellmate...you might have no choice but to fight to keep that threat from becoming a promise...

4) Wanna take this outside/go, buddy?- Favored by whitefolk, this phrase is a direct incitement of physical violence. It is an undeniable threat against one's health and well-being, and presents a clear and present danger. As stated in the beginning, you have the option to decline (in a calm, witty manner...a meek 'no...' will not do here) and walk away. However, if you say "yes", realize that you are accepting the proverbial thrown gauntlet...and from that point fisticuffs are mandatory.

5) Ima beat yo ass- The ethnic version of the above. It carries pretty much the same connotation. The only acceptable responses here are some variation of "Na, I'm cool, I don't want no trouble..." or "Fuck this, aight, do it then." Again, realize that the latter represents a commitment to a fight, and once you do that, ain't no turning back, patna.

6) Anything about somebody's kids- You can't talk about folks chirren, point blank period. As I've told you before, you can lose your life talkin bout the wrong mafuckas seed. Accordingly, speakin derisively about my kids can earn you a freshly whupped ass. And no, it doesn't matter that I don't have kids...at that point, it's the thought that counts.

7) More than 2 "______-ass niggas"- You know, insert modifier here...bitch, faggot, pussy, punk, frail, hoe, sucka...use your imagination. Ain't nobody gon be but so many '-ass niggas' before they get to thrashin a mafucka. My limit is 2...3 strikes, you out.

Like I said, the list is by no means complete...my general point here is the 1st amendment does come with a price when you say certain things, and you are definitely responsible for the words of your voice when you decide to go off on somebody. At least now you know. Maybe this will be a guideline of the things to not say if you don't wanna fight, maybe you not too familiar with cuss words and wanna know when you've been insulted...either way, hope it helps...

Random Thoughts 12- the Real Circle of Life...

Bored at work, I looked in my wallet today at my couple dollars and wondered 2 things:

1) Where has this money been? How many hands has this passed through and where is this going once I spend it? Will one of these exact bills by random chance end up back in my pockets or the pockets of somebody I know indirectly?

2) One of the 1s had a little smiley face doodled on the back. I know you've seen bills that folk decided to draw random little shit on just for shits and giggles (I guess). Somebody had to draw that, but who? Not like there's really any way to know, but like I said, I'm bored and a little zoned out...

Anyway, that's when I came up with this little experiment, because maybe I'm not the only space cadet who sits around wonders about shit like this in his downtime. I'm gonna draw a small blue star (why? 1. I can do it quick, 2. its recognizable, 3. why not?) on the back upper left-hand corner of every $5 that comes through me for a while and see if it comes back or anybody I know sees it. Maybe you can do the same with another shape/symbol and see if I or anybody else gets it. Or...idk, maybe you have a life...whatever. Eitha way, if you see/get a bill like this, you know who did it...


How bout you wash it with washing?

*the fittedwearer would like to take this type to give a lil shout out to some cool ppls...the big headed Geraldine and the uniquely named Ashelee...'preciate y'all readin, ladies. This goes out to you cuz y'all go to Howard, and I know there's plenty of nasty mafuckas there (and every other college campus) who do this shit on a regular. I know you know you know somebody like this, make sure you tell em this shit ain't cool...

One of my least favorite commercials is the one for Febreze. You know the one I'm talkin about, the one where the mom walks into her son's room and comments on how 'it stinks in there', and then the filthy bitch has the brilliant idea to 'wash the whole room with Febreze'. See, that's the problem with mafuckas now. They believe that shit. If you don't see anything wrong with that, you prolly the ppl I'm talkin about...take heed.

To kick things off, you can't wash a fuckdamn thing with Febreze. Febreze, while nice smelling and effective, is no substitute for soap and water, and you nasty for thinkin so. Its the fabric equivalent of Axe body spray (which I will def get to later). You can't just spray it on shit and it magically becomes clean. Sprayin bedsheets and rugs and carryin on...if the room so dirty it actively bothers u, why come you dont...oh, I don't know...wash the shit in it? Don't spray that curtain, take it down and throw it in the fuckin washing machine like u got some gahdamn sense or...ooh, here's an idea...change/wash the bedsheets!

The worst part isn't even the commercial, really...its the behavior the commercial inspires. Don't even get me started on folk who will take off a shirt, spritz it a few times with cloth perfume, put it on and just rock out. Where they do that at? That shirt still dirty, you fuckin street urchin! Your momma shoulda raised you better. The recession ain't hittin your stank ass so hard that you can't wash your damn clothes.

News flash, Pigpen, you don't smell exactly like what's in that spraybottle. Don't you know that funk and smellgoods don't go together? You not maskin your musk, you just ruining a good smell so it mixes and creates some kind of hybrid smell. Walkin around with yellow pit stains on your shirt smellin strong as shit like artificial 'clean breeze' fragrance with fried onion and fish undertones is a dead giveaway that you a generally dirty sombitch. You can lose friends/significant others this way.

Listen, I'm not sayin Febreze is a bad thing. Like I said, it works and smells good...but you just gotta use that shit responsibly. The idea that you can wash anything by sprayin bottled fragrances on it is just wrong. At least, I don't get it. Whatever you sprayed is still dirty and must be washed. But hell, you can def do it if you want, its a free country and you got rights...just don't be surprised when you walk down the street and crowds part when you walk by like the Red Sea for the Israelites or you get on a elevator and everybody starts coughing and fanning the air in front of them and they all huddle in the far corner away from you. You been warned.

Lies They Tell the Chirrens- Sprouts for sprouts

*This section is just for the kids (both young and old) in the room. Here, ill talk about some common lies well-meaning parents tell they kids to make they lives easier...and that honestly I'm prolly gonna use on my kids when the time comes.

Since I was a youngin, my parents have been tryna shove vegetables down my throat...which I'm sure they saw as a great attempt at responsible parenting, with one fatal flaw: I hate em. All of em...carrots, asparagus and all those other nasty weeds and roots they pull out the ground and feed to folk. No, I don't want no gahdamn greens, keep your boiled leaves to yourself. Coleslaw? You want me to sit here and eat chopped cabbage, carrots and mayonnaise? That sound like some shit a mafucka would eat on Fear Factor, I'm good.

Well, lemme not be so broad...everybody loves potatoes, corn is acceptable and lettuce is cool in sandwich and taco-based applications, but those don't even count. I'm talkin the hardcore shit...my mommy preached beets and brussels sprouts with the reasoning that if I didn't eat them, I wouldn't 'grow big and strong'. That's all she kept saying...I wouldn't grow if I didn't eat those vile ground scraps they incessantly tried to foist upon me every night. She told me if I ain't eat my vegetables I was gonna grow up to be some kind of frail, bird-chested girly bitch boy and plus she was gonna beat my ass. I countered with the classic kid-rebuttal 'but I don't wanna!' But then, later as I looked at a family photo album, I noticed my 5'6" mommy, my 5'9" pop, my tiny, 6-inch baby sister (who I still tried to forget existed at the time because she had freshly infringed on my only-childhood...but have grown to love) and my shortish aunts and uncles. Clearly hereditary traits were not on my side here.

Over time, I figured I certainly ain't want to grow up to be a 5'2", 134 lb baby man...but at the same time I just hated that shit so much. I considered the possibilities, decided that was a chance I was willin to take and continued to refuse the various leaves and sticks that were placed on my plate during my childhood. I took many a strapping for my beliefs...I guess beating me was supposed to replace the nutrients in my veggie-poor diet. Sprig after sprig of cauliflower and broccoli (tho they did manage to get me to eat that quite a few times by camouflaging it in a shroud of cheese...sneaky, sneaky...) was shunned in favor of more preferable foods like delicious birds, beasts, and sea creatures, which I was both not whupped for eating and enjoyed.

I grew up my whole life with my parents trying their damndest to make me think I had pretty much doomed myself to a lifetime of being small and sickly just because I wouldn't listen to them and clean my plate. After a while, my folks pretty much gave up on it (I think they got sick of findin stashed vegetables in my pants pockets on laundry day) and let me eat all the animals I wanted. I guess they had accepted that their son was gonna be a shriveled up weakling since he clearly just wasn't into veggies. A funny thing happened. Out of the pure power of spite, I grew. I'm 6'4" today and can throw a football through a brick wall...so take that, mom and dad. Of course, this proves that whole thing is just another...lie they tell the chirrens.


go Cowboys! (an essay that really has little to do with football...)

I've been asked the question many times: how can you care so passionately about something you have more or less nothing to do with? Well...besides buying astounding amounts of star-logo merchandise that puts money in owner Jerry Jones' big ole oily pockets, thereby financing my team (yes, MINE lol)...but that's both really, really indirect and kind of a stretch. Anyway, its not like I'm out there runnin around, why do I give so much of a fuck? On the surface, fanhood is fundamentally ridiculous...and I can understand why somebody would ask...it's a valid question. Well, I'm gonna try to pull you into my world and see if you can't go back to yours with somewhat of an answer to that question. I can only speak from the perspective of a Cowboys fan, but I'd imagine it would sound the same for most any real fan, just swappin out the team name. Here goes:

My lifelong heterosexual love affair with the Cowboys franchise started...around the time I could first pronounce the word 'cowboys'. I've been a Cowboys fan for as long as I can remember...I have missed less than 10 games in the time since then (roughly 18-20 years) I love the uniforms, the helmets, the logo...everything. It borders on unhealthy...I know this and don't give a flying coitus. Every girlfriend (and...everybody else period, really...) I've ever had and/or will have has had to deal with this as a condition of being with me. I'm gonna plan the birth of my child around football season (thx for understanding, apples...lol...) and hopefully, with some responsible parenting and lots of NFL films, raise a little Cowboys fan one day. Yes, you gahdamn right its that serious.

The players were my first heroes, and my inspiration to play football, something I did (and plan to do, but that's another post for another time) throughout my life. As a child I spent nights fantasizing about playing for them...and still do about twice a week. They've been in my house every Sunday (Monday/Saturday/Thursday...you know what I mean...) since forever, far as I'm concerned. You get attached after a while. I see the 'Boys way more than many members of my own family...and knowing some of the members of my family, that's a good thing.

Put simply, the team has been part of my life for a long time. I've been here for the best of times (yes, a long ass fuckin while ago, don't fuckin start) to the very worst (you REALLY dropped that snap, Tony? Dead seriously?), experienced all the highs and lows that come with caring when those things happen...and have willingly gotten on the rollercoaster every year. When we win, I'll watch Sportscenter again and again just to watch the glory. (Course, when we lose I avoid it like swine herpes. As a fan, there are few things less fun to watch than your team fuck up again and again...)

Being a Cowboys fan is the closest thing I have (or want to get) to organized religion. (Laugh if you want, but at least I know for a fact football exists...I've seen it.) If you know me, you've prolly heard me say that...and I mean it every time. To quote Rihanna, I'm addicted to the thrill. Its kinda like a drug. To me, there's no feeling quite like watching your favorite team pull off a win they weren't supposed to. Picture jumping up in the air about 2 feet. Now picture staying there for about 24-48 hours. There you have it. (For contrast, the opposite feels like being kicked in the stomach repeatedly by a mule wearin Timbs...emotionally speaking.)

Besides, to tell the truth, the best part of being a crazy fan person is other crazy fan people. The fan spirit and camraderie makes the experience of fanhood. For example, the 1st game of the new season came on yesterday and of course I wanted to (read: was gonna, no matter what) watch it. I went to the bar, and when I walked in, I knew nobody...however I did see a couple folk in 'Boys jerseys/shirts...fellow members of the Blue Star Brigade. I saw they were playing other games on TV, but not mine...so I went to the man who controls the TVs and and demanded my game be put on. After some snide (but joking) remarks about my team, the remote czar obliged me, sitting me in a dark corner on a couch with a big TV. Fine with me, fuck it...but then a crazy (but not unexpected) thing happened...one by one, all the Cowboys supporters came over, thanking me for saying something...and all the time the game was on, it was like we had known each other for years. We cheered, laughed, yelled, cussed, drank together like old friends...and that's how it should be.

You see, on gameday (or every day, if you live or work around other football fans like I do), everybody wearing your team colors is family and the other side is made up of the worst kind of people. I think its great when folk walk up to me in my 'Boys apparel and make remarks...because I love to talk football, and especially about my team of choice. Positive, negative...it don't matter, it all comes with the territory and its all in good fun...and truly, that's what being a fan is all about. It's just fun, it's a soap opera that lasts a lifetime, its good fuckin times, point blank period...and that's no matter who you root for. Its universal...united in our support, it brings folk closer together and gives them common ground to stomp on in support of their favorite team. Sports fanhood crosses racial, socioeconomic, and all other kinds of lines...because all a real fan sees is the color of your team. I think the world is a little better place because of it. Still...go Cowboys, and fuck the other 31... :)

omg wtf

There comes a time where computers and technology and shit become too much a part of our lives. Now don't get me wrong, I fux with the future...but at a certain point, the lines between online and off blur. I mean, for me at least. I do a lot of texting and internetting and all that 21st century digital boy shit, but sometimes my mind never logs off and I'm still typin in my head when I talk to real life 3D folk.

For example, the other day, one of my coworkers asked me a question whose answer I did not have. I actually responded with 'idk'. (Since you're readin this, I assume you've been to 2009, and therefore know what that means...) Like, the acronym...and I wasn't even trying to be funny or anything, that was the response that my brain logically formulated and delivered to my mouth to speak. (It wasn't til I was called on it by a 3rd party that I even realized I didn't say the long form) Now, the fucked up part is not that I really said that shit and meant it...its that she knew what I said, accepted it as a normal answer to her question, and moved on with her day.

That set me thinkin (as most of the minutae of day-to-day life do) ...just how deeply rooted is this shit in our minds? Am I the only one who has had to consciously stop himself from sayin 'lol' (sounded out, not letter by letter) in the matrix? I have actually heard somebody say 'omg'. Is this a healthy trend? How far could this go? It only takes a few more commonly known acronyms before folk can carry out entire convos in onlinese...and thats just not cool. Its a slippery slope, and it only takes one rapper to say it before all the chirrens start doin it all the time... Its gotta stop somewhere...right after I send this text. bbl lol...

Minor Life Failures 3- Ineligible Reciever

You're standin in line somewhere, you see somebody walkin in your direction lookin at you and they acknowledge you with a wave/point/fist up/soul brotha nod (you know the one I'm talkin about...the quick upwards or downwards head motion black males do to greet each other silently). You may know this person, you may not...or it might be somebody you ain't seen in a while and might not quite recognize...you prolly don't wanna ignore the person. That's not nice, right?

So you return whatever they did...then they make a screwface at you. 'Damn, it's like that?' you think. Then you look behind you...and see the person behind you they were really talkin to. That's embarrassing...so I've adopted a policy of ignoring greetings from folk unless I'm absolutely sure who they are. Sure, that guy you went to high school with or that girl you worked with that time a while ago might be hurt because you ain't return they greeting and thus you don't know them anymore...but fuck it, least you don't have to try to play it off by doin that really obvious thing where you start to wave, realize you shouldn't, then pretend to scratch your head or adjust your earphones (like everyone does...you aint slick, I saw that, mafucka... lol) next time the situation arises.


Inventions Nobody Fuckin Asked For: the Snuggie

Just look at it. Isn't it the gayest thing you ever did see? Dude looks like he part of a secret society or a cult or some shit. Its so convenient, the sleeves even enable him to drink the poison kool aid and drift off to death without getting out from under his blankie. Isn't that nice? The shit makes me फुच्किन' sick.

Oooh, it's a blanket with sleeves...how much laying around are you doing in your day to day life where you think "Golly gee, I wish I had something that would let me eat and change the TV channel with as little effort as possible...I sure have trouble getting my arms and hands out from underneath this heavy blanket with my poor motor skills and slow reflexes that come from sitting on my fat, lazy ass all day..." Enter the Snuggie!

What a boon to mankind, what a blessing from above...are you serious? You want 2 easy payments of 19.95 for this? You can make one right now...got a bathrobe? Put it on backwards...yes, the wrong way...oh, surprise surprise, well fuck me if it isn't a Snuggie! You must be some kind of gilded gahdamn genius to make a innovative product like that in your own home! Give me a break...the sad part is apparently they're selling like hotcakes...how f u c k i n g stupid aरे people?

Oh, and news flash, if its cold enough to need a blanket in the room...uh, wouldn't you want your hands covered too? Are you gonna rock a Snuggie and gloves? All you need is a fuckin' pointed birthday hat with stars and a magic wand you can look just like a retarded Mickey Mouse in "Fantasia". My favorite part of the commercial is when they show people outside wearing these things, at football games and picnics and shit. Who would wear that shit where people can see them? 

Number one, that's a safety issue. That thing is too long to walk wearing, and you'll probably to trip and fall as soon as you hit some stairs. I swearfogawd if I saw that I would not only laugh in the most obnoxious manner possible with no रेmorse, I'm gonna point at you while doing so. Number 2, you just fuckin' look weird. Look at that guy...are you gonna hang out with him? Not bloody likely.

On some real shit...look at that thing and tell me it doesn't look like something they would wrap a dying person in to comfort them in their last minutes. That is NOT something healthy folk wear. Yes, there are times where I'm laying on the couch and I'm a little chilly...but if I have to look like a fucking dunce wearing an assless front robe thingy to get some warmth...I'll take my dignity. Hell, maybe ill even get up and do something with my life...hey, that's just my opinion tho. You want a Snuggie, go for it...shit, wear it to work if you want...just know you look like sme kind of confused, homeless wizard when you do.

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*fittedwearer's note: this is not, repeat, not, one mo'ginn, NOT directed at anyone in particular. Its a general description of a problem in interpersonal relationships here in the future, where there are so many ways to get ahold of a mafucka. don't get your feelings in a bunch.

You know what's funny? When folk won't take a fuckin hint...you know, like 'I cant/wont/don't fuckin wanna talk to you right now?' That could be a friend, your baby moms, a bill collector, your po, that girl whose house you snuck out of last night who you don't plan on callin again, anybody that when they call you just kinda stare at your phone til it stops ringin.

Mafuckas think they slick too...my favorite crock of cockamamie bullshit that ppl try is the 'Oh, he didn't answer the phone the 1st eleventy times I called...maybe if I block my number/use somebody else's phone to call within 2 minutes, he'll think its not me and answer...bwahaha, he'll never expect that!' maneuver. That's like a 16 yr old gettin carded for beer in a store, then when he doesn't have one he just puts on one of those fake mustache/nose/glasses things right in front of the cashier and gets back in line to try again. You think I'm a short bus alumnus or some shit? Nigga I ain't stupid...that's your dumb ass again, I see you...

Course its 2009...when I say 'call' and 'phone' and shit, I refer to all the digital ways in which to summon a person...since you're readin this right now I assume you know most of them. You pretty much always connected if you think about it...and these misguided souls take full advantage...they call you over and over...and it don't even have to be about nothing in particular. They just want e-company. You might be doin something else, you might not feel like talkin...hell, you might just wanna be left alone right then, right? Nope...that's not good enough for these mafuckas. My favorites are the ones who'll call you, leave a message, text you, e-mail you, IM you, poke you on facebook and send you a Pony Express telegram in the span of 20 fuckin minutes...just to say hi.

Why did you do that? You that bored? I think that should qualify as stalking and carry the same penalties...all up in my ip address and shit. Bitch, if nobody dead or finna die, ain't no excuse to call 20 times. I can see your text as soon as I pick up my phone, so unless you see Ed mafuckin McMahon is on my doorstep with an oversized novelty check for me and you tryna wake me up so I can answer the door, chill the fuck out.

It might not be that I don't like you (emphasize 'might not') it might be I'm busy right now...or sleep or at work or fuckin or...hell, my almighty g1's battery coulda died and I can't get at you if I wanted to...who the fuck knows? Point is, if I don't answer in the first 3 attempts at contact, unless its life or death...Ill hit ya back, k? Hell, if I dont get back at you at least you know you can waste somebody else's unlimited talk and text...


ETCAM #3- Qdoba Nachos (ground beef)

"Mexican" food is either your thing or it ain't. However, it most definitelydamnsure is mine. That's why I thoroughly enjoy Qdoba. (and its clone Chipotle...ask me which one is better and I'll walk away from you.) Their fresh ingredients and variety of flavors makes this some of the best food...ever. They're also quick...their assembly line system enables you to get your food fucka fast...which is a good thing to me, a large, hungry black man. If you like Taco Bell at all, go to Qpotle...the stuff here is so much better I can barely even eat at Taco Bell any more (tho my fat ass still does sometimes lol)

Anyway, today I went with one of my favorites there (and pretty much anywhere that serves em), the nachos. They come with your choice of a healthy portion of grilled chicken, steak, or ground beef, which I picked because its properties lend it to optimum chip coverage. Yes, I'm an expert. The nachos are then covered in a tangy, slightly spicy 3 cheese blend and the other toppings are up to you, choosing from the standard southwest garnishes: salsa (mild, corn, medium, hot, very hot...hot for me, thx.) extra cheese, sour cream and guacamole (all pictured...yes I got everything...fuck it, I'm a growing boy...)

After paying my 8 dollars (yeah its a bit pricey, but its worth it...) and sprinting the block from the restaurant to my desk, I released my prize from its plastic prison dome and admired it for a second before devouring it with both hands and no shame. The combination of flavors and textures is wonderful, each ingredient shines through in its own special way. The chips were fresh and crisp and the salsa had a smoky heat which kicked up the other flavors very nicely. Worth mentioning is the spicy seasoned ground beef and the guacamole, which you can actually watch them make from the right angle while in line. To call it fresh is almost an understatement...if the place wasn't in center city, I would think they grew the avocados out back or some shit...but we all know nothing grows in Philly but the murder rate (it sucks cuz its true :-( )

Anyway, the serving sizes are more than adequate...I didn't really HAVE to eat the whole thing to be full, but it was so damn good I just kept shoveling. (Life is gonna suck when my metabolism slows lol) When I was done, I could barely move for 15 minutes...it was kinda like a good nut. Overall, it was one of the best meals one can get in under 10 minutes. It prolly makes bangin intoxicated munchie food...I intend to confirm that one day. If you ever find yourself near a Qdoba, fuck your diet and go in I think you'll be satisfied.

Disclaimer: as with all ETCAM foods, don't be eatin this shit all the time. You gon get bigger than all outside, small kids will point and laugh at you, and folk will whisper and giggle behind your back. Just sayin...