Thursday, April 30, 2009


At the risk of sounding ignorant and inappropriately labeling a U.S territory a third world country I am going to say 'what kind of pigeon john, chicken george place doesn’t have internet?!' Wait, I stand corrected, internet exists, we just don’t have it. That being said, I am in an airport text blogging just because I refuse to deprive you of my beautifully eloquent ignorance.
With my ability to stay connected via the world wide web compromised, I will have to keep this short and sweet, concisely speaking of all the things I love...

Rosie Perez, Latina midgets and Guinness. That is all.
Just kidding.

There is no way in hell that I’m walking out of this Airport sober without blogging about my distaste for the New York law that prohibits airport bars from opening prior to ten am. WTF son! Wait, am I allowed to say that and still sound tough? Whatev. Lol. What f'ing genius was not smart enough to realize that alcohol is an essential part of any vacation and that, aside from catching your flight, the concept of time does not exist in airports! People sleep during afternoon layovers, eat hotdogs for breakfast and drink beer with their breakfast , when permissible, all because it doesn’t matter! I know it’s 9 am but 'hoe! Give me my fuckin brew!’ Sorry for cussin.

Now that my midmorning rant is complete I am free to comment on a cornucopia of other Airport BS which only makes arriving at your destination that much better. Let me start by saying Airport Security is nonsense. Thank you f' ing Taliban shoe and belt bombers for f' ing it up for everybody. I obviously do not have a bomb in my Jordans and yet I still have to take them off. F*ckers!

Despite me being upset about these trivial matters, I have not only decided to not let my vacation be ruined, but to earn myself some good Karma, albiet via a big booty mexican. While this may seem paradoxical, it is indeed true. While sitting next to a non-midget big booty latina on her way to Houston, I offered to help her with her bags, only to find out she didn’t speak english. Needless to say I spent the next hour of the flight fantasizing about letting my unborn children flow all over her 2 gold teeth, yet ended the day translating for her and getting her to the appropriate gate. For those of you still doubting my intentions, I also helped an old Jamaican woman get to her flight. P.S. I didn’t want to f-ck her.

Live, love , Fly.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

There are vacation spots other than South Beach Damnit!

As I sit in an apartment in the Lower East Side drinking Hennessey Privilege out of a giant Beer stein, I begin to ponder the meaning of life...Just kidding. I am actually pondering whether or not I will somehow manage to contract the Swine flu or pig AIDS from a morally loose Island Girl during my trip to St. Thomas which officially began about three hours ago. While I've only managed to make it to New York and am not even fully packed, I consider the vacation as having started due to the fact that I am already in vacation mode.

Contrary to popular belief, I do not bring up the subject of my upcoming vacation in an attempt to brag or show off, but rather to transition into a short blurb on the topic of vacations. In recent history I have been to a variety of different countries (some of which allowed for the legal profession of prostitution), and realized that while my vacations were undoubtedly fun and memorable, they were missing something...

While I am not one to constantly dwell on the subject of race, I could not help but notice that I am usually the only black person in my vacation convoy. This is not to say that I have no black friends, (I'm from the hood son!), or that my African American friends are broke (these mutha f***as have money to pop over expensive bottles of Moet and Nuvo every week) but rather that I refuse to go anywhere with people who don't tip!!! Just kidding. The real reason my melanin toned friends choose to miss out on sailing in Greece, brothels in St. Martin or all night parties in Vegas are that ni**as refuse to go anywhere other than South Beach (on memorial day weekend) or Myrtle Beach (during Bike week). Yes, I said it damnit! Also...just as a public service announcement...Ni**as, go get f**kin passports!!

Why is it that every black person decides to go to Miami Beach during this same weekend, and then acts surprised when they get there and 85% of the people are wannabe ballers from the East Coast who saved up their rent money to buy bottles. Now don't get me wrong, I am not pretending that I have never done the same...but I'm just saying....

For those of you who think I am making blanket statements about an entire race, I urge you to read the comment section after this post. This being said, I also urge any minority female aged 16-34 who considers herself a dime piece (extremely attractive female) to affirm, via post, the fact that you have never been to South Beach on Memorial day weekend! HA! You can't do it. don't worry though ma, I wont tell anyone what you had to do to get free VIP access to the club without buying bottles. Trust me though, what happens in Miami beach definitely does not stay in Miami beach and most likely ends up on youtube, myspace and a myriad of Hood DVDs. Silly chickenheads, Miami Beach is for kids. Get some stamps in your passport.

Fellas, you are officially not off the hook and are just as bad as your chickenhead girlfriends. While Myrtle beach has nice weather and the women are definitely top notch within the Chickenhead spectrum, it is not OK to go to bike week without a bike. This act in and of itself officially makes you a cornball...a L 7 square. while I myself do not have a bike (dirtbike excluded), I find it utterly disgusting that a bikeless poser would even want to scavenge the leftover bike whores willing to f**k anyone with a bike, and once intoxicated, those without. I know it is hard to believe, but some women actually live for and countdown the days until bike me, I know them! While occasionally banging a second tier Target hoe may not be the worst entry on the "things I've done when no one was looking" list, it is definitely not permissible. It is in fact deplorable to sleep with a woman who's life ambition is to take myspace pictures on the back of someones bike, and the highlight of who's life was senior prom. Leave the biker girls to the biker boys and dare to be different. Take a chance on a girl which may actually be worth bringing to Ihop in public and switch up your vacation swagger. Your conscience and self dignity will thank you for it in the future.

See ya in a few, I've got a plane to catch.

Love Life & Live for the story,


"Puertoricans & Midgets: They both have Fat A$$es"

Well folks, I'm back at it again, attempting to focus as I ready myself for a Blog-worthy, debauchery filled vacation in St. Thomas with my boy 'Wah Gwan Anwa' aka DJ Alpha. Needless to say, the Jouvert festival marks the beginning of Carnival on Thursday, and the nappy headed Blogster will be "in full effect" (copyright, anyone from the 1980's).

And now, onto more serious business....

As I crawled out of bed this morning and lethargically made my way to the computer, clicking off pop-up widow's of last night's Bridget the midget 'films', I could not help but think of how hypocritical people are towards "little people," often giving them the proverbial "short end of the stick." While many an educated female will quickly and unabashedly denounce racism, sexism or any other form of intolerance, the idea of a man doing a "little" bump and grind with a midget or dwarf is seen in her eyes as repulsive or disgusting. This, however, is not a surprise to me as I have been aware of one simple fact for the past few years; opposites attract haters. In the same way that skinny women hate on men who prefer big beautiful women, I have seen black men hate on black women who date white men. Short people hate on tall people, dark-skinned people hate on light skinned people and poor people hate on the affluent. This, my friends, is just the way of the world and an unavoidable consequence of the myriad of cultures and demographic factors blending in the giant mixing bowl we call America.

This being said, I take great pleasure in offending any tall woman with a flat a$$ and lack of an accent, as I indulge in the synergism produced by two of my favorite things:

"Puertoricans and Midgets: They both have fat a$$es."

In an effort to show that I do have a point to all of this apparent gibberish regarding, midgets, dwarfs and fat a$$es (aka Fatties or Donks), I am going to tell you something that most of you will not believe. I saw a girl a few months ago who was more beautiful than Eva Mendez, despite their striking similarities...and she was a midget. While some still find this hard to believe, I can honestly say that despite being half her size and equally beautiful, the mini-mendez would be my top choice due to the perfectly sculpted Gluteus Maximus, which, unlike some of those "Donks" out there, was not lose or jiggly but rather shapely, round and crafted of pure muscle (sort of like a pit bull.) Ladies, do not think that midgets are half the woman you are as one of them may steal your man, and never underestimate the power of a Donk.

While at the time I was at a loss for words, I quickly phoned one of my best friends to tell them the news. Knowing my affection for midgets, Puertorican girls and Eva Mendez, they immediately chastised me for not 'hollering at her' (slang for intentionally beginning a flirtatious courtship). While I explained that I was simply in sheer and utter awe and could not think of the words to say, I could only imagine how bad that conversation could've went....

Show: What's up shorty...I mean, Ma...

Mini Mendez: Ha,ha. Real funny jerk.

Show: I'm sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant to say was hello. Do I know you from somewhere? (like Little people Big World, or the Land of Oz--in my own head)

Mini Mendez: Maybe...I'm from Fitch and Blake St.

Show: Me too. Small world...Sh*t, I mean...nice to finally meet you.

Mini Mendez: Likewise

Show: I couldn't help but notice your exotic look...I see Latina of some sort (your ass says it all, plus you smell like Sazon and your finger tips are orange--in my head) , but can't tell exactly what...are you Puertorican?

Mini Mendez: Half.

Show: LMAO.

Mini Mendez: Asshole. I'm leaving.

With this imaginary discourse going on in my head its no wonder that I didn't have the nerve to approach my half Puertorican, midget dream girl. While it seems hypocritical, given the lighthearted and comedic nature which I use to tackle any subject, I really do think that in my trying to holla at Ms. Mendez, (with a group of people around at the Bus Stop), I may have actually offended her or led her to believe that it was some sort of joke. Now this is not to say that she is not used to people of my caliber approaching her because she is any way inferior, but rather because I do not know how to holla at a midget, the same as I would not know how to holla at an Amish girl, aside from saying "nice buggy.....hey, my house has electricity, wanna see?" In the end, I guess I'm the one who lost out due to my own ignorance and at the risk of making my blog sound like a Jerry Springer's Final Thought, I can safely say that I've been doing my research and educating myself so as to never miss out on an opportunity. The next time I see a Puertorican midget I will say all the right things and sweep her and that fatty off of her little feet. I've even been learning Braille because never know.

Live, Love, Life.....Because life is shorter than a midget's mini-skirt.

Shorty "Show" Rocka

Monday, April 27, 2009

Blame It On The A-A-A-A-A-Alcohol!

Every year on my birthday I learn something new, without fail, that may or may not have any bearing on the rest of my life, and usually involve me being SAUCY. I also tend to pee in the street, but that’s just a coincidence. I think. A few examples:

21: The drunker I get, the better my fake Jamaican accent. Side effect: loss of ability to remember faces (I already knew about the good decisions part)

22: There’s no way to gracefully spill your drink on a big pair of titties

24: Patron and Hennessy DO NOT mix well. Hey, sometimes you gotta experiment.

26: Red Sox fans are the scum of the Earth, Jaegermeister is the DEVIL, and ALWAYS HAVE A WHITE FRIEND WITH YOU.

Before Jaeger

After Jaeger

So the part about Sox fans is a prejudice I’ve harbored for most of my two years living in the Boston area, but it was confirmed this past Friday at a bar to remain unnamed where I had been celebrating my birthday. Long story short (or skipping to the good part, rather), the time is like 1:30am and I’m clearly bent, cuz it’s my birthday, dammit. I find myself in a lively but fairly civil discussion with a bouncer about baseball, and about how Red Sox fans are more obnoxious than Yankee fans (but f*** the Yankees too).

Mid-convo, and quite unnecessarily, I get yoked up by this big ass bouncer-sized cop (who happened to be black) and carried out the bar and onto the street. Now as a black man I know that resisting the cops is stupid, so I go limp and wait for Debo (as he’ll be referred to heretofore) to put me down, and I think two things:

#1: Well this is unnecessary

#2: OK, we’re out the bar, put me down. OK, we’re on the sidewalk, put me down. OK, we’re just on the street now, C’MON!

This last bit is what prompts me quickly transitioning from the abiding citizen I had been to the social miscreant I was to become. Because you see, if I had been acting like a douche bag while I was in there, I would’ve just thought, “you right, you right, I had that coming.” But now I’ve been unjustly removed FROM MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY and I’m pissed. Granted, I was probably about to leave anyway within 5 minutes but I mean damn, can I go out on my own terms?

So now I go into my drunken version of nonviolent protest. I doubt Dr. King would’ve been proud.

Step 1: Pull out the dick and start peeing in the street (I know you were waiting for it), while staring at club security, to show them what you think of them.

Step 2: Yell at Debo and repeatedly call him whatever you think will hurt him worst at the moment at the top of your lungs.

Step 3: When Debo follows you down the street and threatens to f*** me up, become very polite because his arms look like horse thighs.

Step 4: Never really feel in danger, because you have a white friend with you who speaks and acts very professionally at all times (Big-Up to Toronto D, you’re a king!)

A small portion of the conversation went something like this:

Debo: You’re about to have a bad night.

C4: What are you talking about?

Debo (to Toronto D): You better calm your boy down or he’ll be in for a rough one

C4: I got no beef with you man

Debo: Oh yeah? Just a minute ago I was a b**** a$$ n****. What you got to say now? B**** a$$ what?

C4: That was in the past. (Sike I ain’t say that last one but I should have. I actually just went, “Well, you know…”)

Debo: You do that again I’m gonna f*** you up.

C4: You right, you right, I had that coming.

So after all the tough cop clich├ęs were out of the way and Toronto D promised Debo I wouldn’t be pulling my dick out again that evening, we hopped in a cab and went home. SOMEHOW nobody got hurt or arrested. By nobody I mean myself. To Debo’s credit, he gave me a lot of opportunities to save myself. I took the 7th.

Naaaah. I’m sure it’s because I had a white friend with me.


To Your Door,


Your Pass has been Revoked!!!

For those of you unfamiliar with urban vernacular or the esoteric dialect we often refer to as slang, "having a pass" refers to a sort of indemnity, making it permissible for someone to commit a certain act, be in a certain place or say a particular thing without fear of judgement or repercussion. For example, someone who was born in an affluent neighborhood, yet chose to hang out in dilapidated urban communities, learning their customs and donating to the impoverished masses can be said to have a "hood pass."

In similar fashion, Puertoricans, due to their Taino ancestry and history of slavery and discrimination similar to those of African descent have somehow managed to procure a pass to use the "N-word." Whether I truly understand or agree with this is a moot point, as it does not change the fact that it is true or that puertorican women are sexy enough to allow us to not really care. White people, I regret to inform you, that if you believe that somehow you have secured one of these passes, I hope you look extremely latino, or will undoubtedly piss off someone...somewhere. LOL. Don't get upset.

Now that the introductions and niceties are out of the way, I am proud to make everyone's Monday morning a little brighter with yet another new post dedicated to those people who have undeservedly come in possession of a' pass' :

"Your pass has been revoked....all five of you."

#5: Amy Winehouse

While I am not one to pigeonhole or quickly label someone as "acting black" (whatever that means), I can undoubtedly say that part of the allure of Amy Winehouse was her strong and soulful voice reminiscent of powerful black songstresses such as Eta James (if you don't know who she is, ask an old person or check Wikipedia.) This being said, a pass was bestowed upon Miss Winehouse as we actually became quite fond of her...tattoos and all. When it came down to it, Miss Winehouse's propensity for smoking Newports (the official hood cigarette or 'bogie'), frequent bouts of alcoholism and occasional drug use were all just part of her charm as we the people had no problem handing her the "Soulful Songstress Pass", deeming her fit to evoke comparison to all powerful singers (pronounced Sang-ahs) and oftentimes representing the African American singing and songwriting community (despite her not being black...minor detail.) This being said, any Black person (with the exception of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston) will tell you that IT IS NOT OK TO SMOKE CRACK. You're making us look bad Ma, your pass has been revoked!

#4: Erica Badu

Since we are on the topic of singers, let's talk about everyones favorite headwrap wearing Nubian princess...Miss Badu. While labeled as neo soul and placed in a category with other so called 'righteous' musicians who oppose drinking, do not do drugs other than weed and sport natural hairstyles, Ms. Badu is anything but a neo-hippie rastafarian urban mystic. What many people may not know, is that Ms. badu has 3 different rapper baby daddies, who if all nominated for grammys, would be in completely seperate hip hop categories (Gangsta, Conscious and living legends). Popping out seeds from Andre 3000 (affiliation: Outkast), the D.O.C (affiliation NWA), and Jay Electronica (Afilliation: Nas, Kanye West), not to mention a highly publicized relationship with Common (who was smart enough to wrap it up tighter than a Dominican it), Erica Badu is absolutely, positively a hoe. Now I am not saying she cannot be a conscious hoe...but righteous she is not. Hey, headwrap hoe...your pass has been revoked.

#3: Carmen Electra
Since we are on the topic of hoes, why not talk about one of our favorite throwbacks (Older woman called so do to the reference to older "throwback" sports jerseys). While typically, a woman of Ms. Electra's age (around 37) gets a pass simply for being a super stunning, ultra cougar vixen, she has run through more male celebrities than even a woman of her age is allowed the liberty of doing. What makes her offense most shameful, is that she could not even stick to one race, genre or gender (sort of). Having knocked boots with NBA star and all around wierdo Dennis Rodman, White rap / rocker Fred Durst, Mexican Rapper B-real (of Cyprus Hill) , Rob Patterson (of Korn), Dave Navarro of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and even Prince, I cannot call this opportunistic skeezer anything but. Prince! Really? Yes Ms. Electra, in the words of Riley from the Boondocks "you a hoe."
Your pass has been revoked.

#2 :DJ Khaled

I am going to keep this blurb short, and offer a synopsis of the situation of in three short sentences. DJ Khaled is annoying. DJ Khaled uses the N-word entirely too much. DJ Khaled is not Black.

While the aforementioned sentences should be reason enough to snatch Mr. Khaleds pass, I find it quite comical that his real name is actually Khaled Khaled (yes, that's his government name), and he is Arab (not half Arab like Jim Jones...DJ Khaled is 100%). As if this was not enough fuel for the comedic fire, I think it should also be noted that DJ Khaled received his pass to say the "N- word" from none other than Fat Joe...a Puertorican rapper. Go figure. DJ Khaled, you are not the best, and your pass has been revoked. Fat Joe, keep it up and we'll take yours too!

#1: Rosa Parks

Now hold on before you all start yelling at me. I love Rosa Parks and all that she has done for our beautiful black race, despite the fact that I no longer ride the bus (I'm ridin' Rims homie...I know unnecessary). I am going to keep this 100% respectful and not use the "B" or "N" word for the entire paragraph, and simply say that it was not ok for Rosa Parks to sue Outkast over that song "Rosa Parks". The song had no objectionable material at all! Rosa Parks, your....nah. I just can't do it. You are the mother of the civil rights movement and one of the most prominent citizens of the twentieth century. We love you Rosa. You'll forever get a pass.

Live, Love, Freedom.....

Show aka Martin Luther Bling

Sunday, April 26, 2009

5 things to do while not drinking beer that are inherently worse.

Well folks, the weekend is almost over and what that means for many is the start of the dreaded work week and 9 to five grind. For me however, it means that 1.) more people will be reading my blog, as they are bored at work, and 2.) all my creative energies will be stifled for at least 7 hours a day, the time during which I must work without access to Sam Adam's Cherry Wheat, Guinness or Blue Moon. Nevertheless, I welcome the adventure which comes with every 'mixed emotion Monday', as I'm glad to see another day on this beautiful planet (no homo.)

A few weeks ago, as many of you may know, I was on a strict dietary regimen where the word "alcohol" was temporarily banished from my vocabulary. 45 days of no booze seemed like a good idea until about 15 days into the experiment when my leg started shaking uncontrollably. While I did make it 21 days, or a full three weeks, before calling it quits, I realized that I was quitting not because i simply could not give up alcohol, but rather because my new habits were undoubtedly much worse than the former. This being said, I strongly advocate the usage of Beer for therapeutic and medicinal purposes, but in the event that this delectable brew or nectar of the gods does not tickle your fancy or placate your Epicurean palate, I offer the following list:

5 things to do while not drinking beer that are inherently worse.

# 5: Replace Beer with Soda

In drinking about 6-10 beers on any given weekend and approximately 1 every night during the week, I thought that I may have a 'bad habit' which could eventually turn into a 'problem.' Once that statement actually managed to come out of my lips, I was actually relieved, as a person who is not in denial cannot be an early stage alcoholic. Phew. Mini crisis evaded.

With this revelation made, I still decided to go forward with the 'no drinking project' as I figured it'd be good to give my body a break, allow it to detox, and get my beach body ready for vacation in St. Thomas. Bad idea. In giving up the approximately 15 beers consumed in a week I managed to begin drinking 3 cans of Coca-Cola each day, 2 of them before 10:00 am. As if this daily over-consumption of caffeine was not enough, I would sometimes awake in the middle of the night dying of thirst and guessed it....a Vanilla Coke. While better than developing an actual coke habit, this potential switch is bad, bad,bad. Bad for your wallet, bad for your health and bad for your R.E.M sleep cycles. Take my advice and deep 6 the coke (no homo.)

#4: Watching too much porn

While indulging in the aesthetic pleasure of porn is no problem in and of itself, it begins to become one when it begins to interfere with everyday activities. When you begin to masturbate more than a horny teenager at home on a snow day, despite the fact that you have a girlfriend, wife or significant other, you, my friend, have gone too far. While not officially a creep, unless of course you own a trench coat and hang at parks, you should probably curb your enthusiasm (no pun intended...OK, i lied) and save yourself some clean socks. If you decide, however, not to take heed to my advice, I leave you with the following recommendations. Only use clean socks, be sure to do enough laundry so that you still have some to wear to work (or that could get gross), do not attempt to re-create anything you've seen on facial / Latina abuse or any fetish site, and be sure to take advantage of youporn, xtube and redtube.

#3: Taking all of your old leftover prescription drugs

While they were prescribed to you, it is completely not OK to take old prescription drugs prescribed to you for various ailments. While taking other peoples prescriptions is undoubtedly much worse, this is the first step towards a slippery slope of drug addiction (true story). While definitely bad for your financial health, as prescription drugs cost more than a six pack and some street drugs, these things are also terrible for your stomach. In the end, there's no point of trading your beer belly for a six pack if your insides are so f**ked up you can't even eat drink and be merry (like J. Blige...Come on, you caught the reference). Exceptions to this rule include Vicodin, Percocet, Oxycodon, and everyones favorite purple cough serum. LOL.

#2: Starting an intense exercise regimen coupled with Hydroxycut Hardcore

This is a disgusting and horrible idea. With a daily dosage of up to 3 pills which each contain as much caffeine as 3 cups of coffee each, your heart simply cannot sustain this type of strain. Be the effects truly magnificent or psychosomatic, depending on who you ask, nothing which leads to incessant headaches, uncontrollable shaking and nausea can be even 1% good for you. Sorry Hydroxy cut, but Anheiser Busch gets the nod on this one here, as beer has never given me any symptom other than fatigue, satiation and bliss. As with anything, try not to over-indulge on the Heinekens and Coronas and you'll be fine. Switching to Guinness will actually save you calories, as Guinness has about 128 calories and 10g of carbs, reminiscent of most light beers. ;)

#1: Saving money

I'm am absolutely sure that a few of you think I'm crazy for saying that saving money is worse for you than drinking beer, but hold on...let me explain. In saving money, the first thing most people do is decide what it actually is that they are saving for. In working off this premise, we often tend to save for things way beyond our reach, i.e expensive vacations, diamond jewelry and all things Louie Vuittion. This is not inherently a bad thing until one realizes that the modest amount of money spent by ditching the occasional six pack and avoiding friends attempts to lure you to bars and clubs, does not nearly give you the buying power to acquire any of these things. What this leads to is an attempt to purchase these items on Ebay or at local flea markets and or Swap meets. Don't Do it!!! I also would not suggest going into debt for a purse or pair of shoes, but will highly recommend it over securing fraudulent, counterfeit or bootleg goods. In the end, using the two hundred saved dollars, mixed with 600 from your savings, to buy an expensive piece of designer clothing is outright foolish, and I can say that I have never done anything that foolish while drinking beer. Side note: In not drinking for 21 days I became the owner of 3 pairs of sneakers (1 Prada) as well as a 5 Kt Diamond Bracelet. Yea...its definitely cheaper to go to happy hour.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Live, Love, Hey-Zeus.


Saturday, April 25, 2009

Penn Relays...Yea, I've run those.

I'm not sure if people read Blogs on the weekend, but I'm here and awake so I'll give it a try. Plus I go hard, like taking a dump with an erection...son....uggggh.

With the world famous Penn Relays track extravaganza occurring today, I cannot help but think of my own days at the University of Pennsylvania and the various times I've attended this event. This being said, I regret to inform you that this post is not at all related to track and field, but rather my days as a Upenn Quaker (our mascot.) By the way, the old school pic of me and Al Lee in the Choate Blues...Timeless.
If I were to write a book about my first two years of College it'd be similar to a hybrid of Tucker Max's "I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell", (if you haven't read it you must), and a Black Ferris Bueler's day off. If given the chance to finally pen (no pun intend) this novel, I would entitle it "Poisoning the Ivy league: A Quaker Trying to Sow his Oats." LOL. Go ahead, laugh.

While I know that this post may get me in tons of trouble and I am in no way attempting to glorify my sexual exploits, I will say one thing about my days in the Frat and my days in W.E.B. Dubois (the predominantly Black dorm)...We've shamelessly passed girls off like batons, and yes...Penn Relays, I've run those.

While I'll be damned if I give a sh*t about what people say, I do have enough couth not to mention names or specific instances except to say that the memories were grand and i still, in the words of Lil' Wayne, "wish I could F**k every girl in the world." From the "Sigma Pi All-Stars" (girls who slept with at least four members of the frat), to everyone's favorite jumpoff, the truth is, none of these girls deserved the reputations that were bestowed upon them. From the name "eggplant" (called so for the shape of her head), to the name LSB (called so because of her resemblance to Light Skin Balls), to the collective name "Suzie rotten crotch and her morally loose friends", I feel that all these girls we're given a raw deal. Looking back at the debauchery and everyday antics which we chose to call college life, I now realize that we, the hormone crazed, intoxicated man-children are the ones who should've been called whores, sluts and "jump offs." Oh,'s too late for that now and all I can say is 'viva la double standard.' From this moment forward we shall be known as Track Stars...we run through these b**ches like marathons son.

If a conversation between you and your boys can begin with "remember that time we both banged so and so in the same night," and end with "or the time she was giving you dome (jargon for fellatio) as i tapped it from the back", you should be saying no homo, but can officially consider yourself a Track Star. Welcome to the club. If you can have the aforementioned conversation and end it with "in Mexico", you are officially me, and should help contribute to this Blog. You are awesome and possibly my Idol.

In an effort to at least show that my intelligence and common sense were not completely eclipsed during my relay days, I can say that although I may have run track in at least three countries (true story), I was smart enough to Usain Bolt out of there just as quick as I came (pun intended.) While you may think more or less of me now for hanging up my track spikes, I can safely say that it ain't over until the old Star Jones sings.

I made a promise that I would never bring my track shorts out again, but in doing so, realized that I suddenly became a fan of another sport...Tag team wrestling.

Church Out.

Live, Love, Chickenheads.


Friday, April 24, 2009

Baby Mamas are like Playstations

Take a look at the picture below and tell me what you see ?(hint: the answer is not "every black man's dream, a white woman with Ti**ies you can play Madden on." Lol.) By the way, for those of you who laughed at the aforementioned comment, you are officially insensitive jackasses. Welcome to the club.

With marriage rates declining, divorce rates skyrocketing and teenagers humping more than R-kelly at a Miley Cyrus after party, it is no surprise that I find myself blogging about baby mamas (albeit to mention their similarities to Americas favorite gaming console. )Yes America, I have taken it there and have no problem saying it. Baby mamas are like f**king playstaions.

Before I get into the complexities of this analogy and people begin to ask me exactly how many empty Guinness cans are on my desk as I write this Blog, I will point out a few obvious and simple similarities. While I know some people will be offended by my stating this, I can safely say that like Playstations, Baby mamas are good for playing games, and are usually black (as white baby mamas are often referred to as wives or fiancees). LOL. I figured I could get away with saying that since i strategically placed a white woman in the picture. Trust me, I'm not racist. LOL.

Now that the uncomfortable part, (aka the truth), is out of the way, I can focus on the more lighthearted similarities which I have noticed across the years dealing with other peoples baby mamas . Sidenote: I do not have one of my own...phew.

This being said, I'm sure those of us with and without kids can remember how excited we were when we got our first video game system (insert Baby Mama #1). In the beginning you wanted "it" all to yourself, but as time went by, you realized that it was time to share her/ it with the rest of the world. "Aint no fun if the homies can't have none" (insert Snoop Dogg Voice). Despite the fact that your youngest children seem to be infatuated with their "playstation" no matter how old and outdated it gets, you begin to find yourself wishing for an upgrade, waiting for the new version to come out and staring at those bright white Nintendo Wiis.

While the good old Playstaion is a good accompaniment for watching bootleg movies indoors and you often bring it on vacation to keep the kids busy, it's normally just a pain in the ass to bring out of the house. This being said, the beat-up, old playstation is left at home, often with your homies playing Madden, as no one in their right mind would dare to try and steal it. While you reminisce about the days she (aka "the playstation) had that brand new box, and think of the surprise that you displayed when you found she had a dual shock vibrator, you can now only think about your life stuck with this antiquated system, its bright red dot shining and serving as a harbinger of things to come...she's turned off, and there will be no playing tonight.

I regret being the messenger tasked with conveying such a sad and pitiful message as you realize that yes, it was not too long ago that you were free to play with your Nintendos, Segas and Neo Geo's, long before investing all of your time and energy buying playstation games. I cannot say that I do not sympathize with you in saying that you probably wish you had pressed the reset button early enough in the game, however, we all know that if you press the reset button too much, no one will play with you anymore.

I guess this post was a bit of a downer for those of you still stuck with Playstations and hoping for Nintendo Wiis, but if it offers any consolation, just remember that this one last thing...
plenty of suckers will buy a used playstation from Game stop just to get a deal, and in the event you still can't upgrade to that Wii or PS3, have no fear... there's always world of Warcraft.

Live, Love, Life. Death is Certain.


If you were at Popeyes on 4/22...Be ashamed

Sorry, I'm a little late today, but I was having a problem with my website counter. Yeah....the site that was hosting it is suddenly non-existant. That being said, if anyone knows where to get a free website tracker, holla at a pimp.
Ok, here goes...

While I hadn't intended on blogging last night, I have realized that a certain event could not be ignored and hence, must be chronicled for those unaware of the significant impact it may have on the African American community. Well before receiving an influx of emails, texts and facebook status updates, I was reminded via overjoyed masses and a soul train line of followers, that the Messiah had indeed returned. Barack Obama had disended upon a congregation of faithful followers in Connecticut with Lil' Wayne in tow....Wait, that's not what happened at all. 8 pieces of chicken were 4.99 at Popeyes and Ni**as, and yes I said Ni**as, went crazy.

Apparently "Frenzy" was the word of the day on Wednesday, April 22nd as every Popeyes chicken franchise across the state looked more like the million man march sanz Farrakhan. While I hate piggybacking on what I know everyone and their cousin Olive Oil has been talking about for the past two days, I feel it would be an injustice to you all, for me to let this pass without me giving my own 2 cents.

I hate to say it but I'll be damned if white people weren't half right about that watermelon and chicken thing. Really people? standing in line for an hour just to get a chicken discount? Calling out of work? Forcing the police department to block of an entire street for the majority of the day? As if this in itself was not bad enough, it comes less than two weeks after a couple was robbed at gunpoint guessed it....Popeyes chicken. Sorry to break it down to you, but Popeye himself wouldn't even wait in line for an hour to get discount chicken!!! That ni**a ate spinach for Christs sake! Popeyes franchisees, amidst all this chaos and ghetto-fied confusion I have still not forgotten you. You should be ashamed of yourselves...a sale on chicken? really! If we are allow this type of behavior to continue we will be serving as catalysts for a slippery slope in which all companies may follow suit. What's next? Hot sauce sale at Stop & Shop? Black people, and white urbanites nestled in amongst this hood chaos, we have to do better.

Now, I am not one to preach or pontificate. I have actually been described as quite hood myself, doing sh*t like wearing Jesus pieces over windsor knotted ties, eating Howard's pork skins in my MBA class and riding with a bottle of Franks Red Hot in my glove compartment. That being said, when I say something is ridiculously uber-hood or super-ghetto, it is!!! While I may not be the definitive authority on anything I do know one thing. Chineese chicken wings (a staple in the hood, might I add) are four for $2.00. What that translates to is 50 cents a wing. At 4.99 for 8 pieces, no amount of herbs and f**kin spices can make you forget basic math. As two prominent black thinkers once said, "don't believe the hype!" (Flavor Flav, 1988), "You've been hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray..." (Malcolm X, 1956.)

What you have fallen victim to is what urban scientists have termed "the reverse caucausianist thinking module." Wheras inteligent non-minorities form the hypothesis that anything with an overwhelming number of seemingly uncouth colored folk must be bad or inherantly dangerous and scary (think Watts Riots, O.J. Simson Verdict or most street gangs) we tend to gravitate toward this multitude like a moth to an inviting flame, thinking we may miss out on something good, cheap or free (think Central Park concerts, Thanksgiving turkey drives and government cheese.)

In the end it is no one's fault but that godawful sailor with the deformed arms.
F**k you popeye and everything you stand for. Crown Fried is cheaper anyway.

Live, Love, Cook with Sazon.


P.S. I know this one was kinda short, but leave a comment and I may be persuaded to drop a second Blog by days end...Just had to get this one off my chest. Pause.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

WJA3: "I can write a Rap album too!"

Despite being a black male between the age of 16 and 30, I'm not a rapper and never aspired to be a rapper. I know....its shameful. I still, however, consider myself somewhat of a hip hop expert and guarantee that if I ever got into the rap game, I could put out a 4 mic or better album (or is that XL album now that no one buys the Source anymore?) Despite my mediocre lyrics and lackluster flow (not that those things matter anymore....I'm looking at all you Shawty Lo fans) , my album would be loved by the critics based on one principle and one principle alone: album structure. With my infallible album structure, I would have critics and most fans fooled into thinking I'm the intelligent gangsta with a heart, which works time and time again (ie 2Pac, DMX, Ja Rule, Lil Wayne). Below you may find the formula:

1) Introduction: On the introduction, which will either have no background music or feature the best production on the album, which would be wasted cuz theres no rapping over it, I will speak on how I'm from the streets and I'm lucky to have made it out alive, but if a "n-word" wants to step to me, I would have no problem taking it to the gats if necessary. This would then be followed about 25 of my homies yelling unintelligible nonsense that everyone would assume to be cosigning. Examples: Mobb Deep - The Infamous Prelude, Nas - The Genesis .

2) The "My City is the Most Gangsta City" Song: This song lets all my predominantly Caucasian listeners know that if they walk down my block, they would be raped, murdered, and raped again before they reached the corner. Examples: Nas - NY State of Mind, Jay-Z - Where I'm From.

3) The "Growing up in the Ghetto" Song: This song lets all my predominantly Caucasian listeners know that it was hard growing up in the ghetto detailed in song #2. Of course, growing up, the local drug dealer was my hero as thats the only way to make money in the hood besides becoming a professional basketball player or a rap star. Examples : Naughty by Nature - Ghetto Bastard, Nas - Memory Lane.

4) The "Club Banger" Song: This song isn't particularly about anything, but the Neptunes or Timbaland or one of them "n-words" produced it, so it rocks the party.Examples: Snoop Dogg - Drop it Like it's Hot, Shawty Lo - Dey Know.

5-10) The "Typical Rap Songs": These are the songs where I detail my career of dealing drugs, killing n-words, smashing broads, and smoking weed....sometimes doing 2 or 3 of these at the same time. Guest appearances from more established rappers are welcome.Examples: Too many to name

11) The "Get All My Less Talented Homies on the Track" Song: This will be the worst song on the album, but I would have to follow up on the promise of putting my homies on after I made it big. Of course if any of them are lucky enough to get a solo album deal, I will end up getting more points on their album than they will. It's just business baby.Examples: The USDA album, the P$C album, Te St. Lunatics, G-Unit....

12) The "Detail all the Types of Girls I'm Willing to Smash" Song: The 2nd single. This song details pretty much all the types of girls I'm down to smash when I'm on tour....sort of like setting up the menu of the groupies before getting to the ho restaurant. Of course, the entire song is a lie as if given the choice, I'm smashing the groupie with the longest weave and fairest skin every time. Examples: Jay-Z - Girls Girls Girls, Young Money - Every Girl.

13) The "We Should Respect Our Women" Song: These hoes are not just our f-pieces, they're also our baby-mommas. Examples: 2Pac - Keep Your Head Up

14) Another Song Dedicated to the Hoes: This song would be a blend of Track #4 and Track #12, where the theme of the song is them shaking their booty to the beat before going back to the telly to commit a lewd sex act. Examples: Mystikal - Shake It Fast, Tony Yayo - So Seductive .

15) The Song Dedicated to Mama: Despite the fact, she's a recovering alcoholic and she kicked me out the house at age 14, a song would have to be dedicated to only woman I respect and love. Examples: 2Pac - Dear Mama, Jay-Z - December 4th.

16) Outro: This would be the longest track on the album, running at about 15 min as I would have to give a shout out to all the homies, all the homies' homies, and all my cousins. & of course, I would have to thank God, the big homie himself, who made it all possible for me to make this album full of misogony, violence, and other criminal acts.


Monday, April 20, 2009

I'm Black, So I'll Probably Go To Jail at Some Point

Well, as f**ked up as it sounds, I have made a statement I believe to be true and there's no taking it back.

I am a black male in the 18-36 year old age bracket so it is a natural proven fact that myself or one of my three close friends will end up in jail, most likely for a crime we were accused of but did not commit; this is not counting those already in jail for stupid crimes that they did in fact commit. While I usually try to keep my blogging lighthearted and comical, I am choosing to digress for the sake of touching on a serious subject sprinkled with a smidget of comedic value and lessons to be learned.

As we speak it is 10:30pm and I have just left a bar where the subtle air of racism has managed to permeate the entire atmosphere unbeknownest to anyone but me. While others were simply served drinks and left to their own devices, my party of six, predominantly African American, were continually asked if we would place a credit card at the bar or pay immediately. When asked for drinks containing Patron we were informed that "they were all out", and that they "[did]not carry Hennessey." Excuse me for being black, but what f**king bar in America does not carry Hennessey! While a few friends thought that I was reading too much into the gesture, I believed I simply must've been the only individual that saw what was truly going on. As a Psychology minor I had been introduced to a phenomenon labeled as the "self fulfilling prophecy", meaning that if you believe someone will commit a certain act (i.e neglect to leave a substantial tip) and subsequently begin to treat this person like a second class citizen because of this, he or she will consequently commit the act you suspected (i.e not leave a significant tip) due to the horrible treatment or service. Despite preconceived notions and stereotypes, everyone should be treated the same....except for hoes and Chickenheads.

This small episode led me to reaffirm my belief that no matter how hard I try, there is no way of avoiding my destiny of somehow having a close run in with the law or ending up in jail for the offense of DWB (driving while black), FTD (fitting the description) or N.W.B.A.H.T.P.S.O (N***a we're bored and had to pull somebody over).
Laugh all you want, but the serious reality is that I have been pulled over nearly ten times, cuffed twice and even been subpoenaed to testify on behalf of a friend accused of aggravated assault on my own college graduation day. As a black male however, graduating from college and not being dead was such an incredible feat that i skipped that subpoena sh*t and probably have a warrant in Philadelphia as we speak, true story. Nevertheless, I digress....

While some may see it as a fruitless task or outright silly practice, I have been lifting weights at the gym since I was around 17 in order to successfully defend myself in the event that I end up in jail unjustly. F**k not committing crimes, I am actually preparing to defend myself in the event I go to jail as an innocent man. What kind of sh*t is that! While I am not a racist black supremest or anything close, I can safely say that..."white people don't have to worry about this sh*t!" While it could be my own ego which caused me to become upset when two bartenders who make less money than me individually and have less college education collectively, decided to estimate my salary and social status based on my mere skin tone, I decided to shrug it off. I happen to know that Amex charges them 3.5% or more for any purchase under 150.00 , making their rate much higher than any other credit card. This being said I nearly always use it, earning points and giving the ultimate "fuck you" to broke ass bardtendenders who do not even have the credit rating to even secure one of these cards. As a final testament to the fact that I don't simply "let anything slide," i proceeded to write the following sentence on the receipt's "tip" line:

"Robert K. Merton (1968). Self Fulfilling Prophecy. You should read up on it."

While some of my friends decide to fight back by silently saying, "f**k you, I've got money" and not so silently affirming it by buying shots of Patron and popping bottles of whatever champagne is trendy, I say "no thanks," I'd rather hit the establishment where it hurts and take a different approach. If you really want to make a statement, buy a two dollar Miller Lite, pay with a 100 dollar bill and make the waitress give you back all your change.
In the end, there's really no point in drinking all that expensive liquor anyway because we are black. According to these racist f**ks, we'll all end up dead or in jail anyway, and trust me, those are two places I do not want to be drunk. ;)

Live , Love, Miller Lite.


P.S. Be sure to check back with the blog this afternoon as we will have a 2nd post courtesy of WJA3. Yes, We are going that hard. (No Homo).

Friday, April 17, 2009

12 Celebs You'd Bang If No One knew (Pt 2)

First off I want to start off by professing my Undying Love for Rosie Perez.

Ok, now that that is out of the way, I would like everyone to know a few things before i get into the second part of this 2 part blog series. Despite your comments or requests, there is no way in hell I am adding Oprah, Missy, Star Jones or Mo'Nique to this list! A few memorable stars which should have, yet did not make the list are Celia Cruz (god bless the dead with her Swagger like none other, ) and Gloria Estefan (with her Sexy 52 year old Cuban ass). Due to the trade embargo with Cuba, and respect for women well into menopause, I was forced to remove these entries. Miley. Maybe Next year.

Here are, as promised, the remaining entries in my series:

# 6 Monica Lewinsky

While a little bit outdated and out of the public spotlight, we love Moni because she was pleasantly plump, articulate and well versed….Just kidding. We subconsciously became enamored with Ms. Lewinsky because she knew just how to put her money where her mouth is. As if this alone was not enough, this Lewinsky Chickenhead also took the money shot like a paintball pellet and wore it like an accoutrement or Purple Heart! People may say what they will about this woman and the hygiene habits which allowed a semen stained dress to remain unwashed for months, but cannot deny the fact that this lewd act, in and of itself, was indubitably gangsta. In the end, this fact, combined with her being responsible for the most famous Presidential Head Shot since John Wilks Booth, means our little chubette Monica would probably give Karrine Steffans a run for her money. F**k Super-head….Presidential head sounds way better. Sorry Hillary. We’d rather do Moni-Baby.

# 5 Rachel Ray
Let me begin my justification for this one by saying shorty can cook. Nice lips, great legs and a cute face combine to make Ms. Ray one hell of a stimulus package (funny shaped tetas being ignored). While this one tends to appear fat one week and slim the next, we really don’t give a f**k. This hottie has got a body (see FHM photo shoot), and even though you may not admit to watching her show on the regular, you’d eat a little Ramen a la Rachel Ray.

# 4 Bridget “The Midget” Powers

Three foot ten inches with a fatty, and an appetite for…..well…..destruction. If you don’t know who she is, you are a loser and do not own a computer. As a matter of fact, you should probably stop reading my blog from your friend’s laptop and go watch Brokeback Mountain. Though it sounds a bit strange, this Goth looking mini-slut is 80 lbs of pure dynamite and although typing this next sentence will probably ensure my one way ticket to hell, I can honestly say I’d marry this chick if I could get past the disgusting midget titties and slightly down-syndromish head. Ok, the destruction is done and what has been said has been said…but shhhhh…don’t tell anybody.

# 3 Raven Symone

At5’3” and 210 lbs, little Olivia is all grown up, and God is it repulsive that I can even say that. I can’t believe I watched her on TV as a baby and now want to bump uglies with her. I am going to stop before I make myself vomit. I will however say that to describe this full figured vixen as juicy would be an understatement. Hell yea I’ll say it. I watch 'That’s so Raven' and want to bang Raven Symone. Its not like I said Rosie O’Donnel.

# 2 Anna Nicole Smith (The Fat One)

I’m sure that you’ve noticed the trend of cute, chubby girls as we near the top spot. This, to any logical person, should not seem paradoxical as any girl who was cute and not chubby would not need to be hidden from our friends and locked into our own subconscious. This brings me to our next fine female specimen. The words Playboy and Playmate should be enough to solidify her as a top "hump her, dump her and hide her" candidate on anyone’s list. Keep it 100. You would have f**ked her in 1993 when she won Playmate of the Year, and you would have still banged her when she had her television show in 2002 (for those of you thinking of banging her in 2009 you are just plain sick and should be arrested). 224 lbs with 39 DD’s, this one is a no brainer.

#1 Nadya “Octomom” Sulleman

Lets be honest. There is something to say about a woman who can pop out 14 kids (8 at one time). Ms. Octomom (and yes, she has trademarked the name, no lie) can most likely take it like a champ. A sexy, hot, sweaty, moaning champ. Not only does this hottie look like a working man’s Angelina Jolie, she’s got the sass and attitude to match. Buying Mac lipstick and wearing Chanel shades while the house is getting foreclosed on only enhances my suspicion that she might be kind of hood as well, a trait which is definitely sexy. Keep doing your thing ma, you’re the top of the tops. Vivid has actually offered her 1 million to do an adult film, so obviously, I’m not the first one to pop wood while watching this “super baby mamma.” I know some people are mad I have written this, but f**k it. We love you Octomom and want to bang your Octopussy brains out.

Live, Love, Rice & Beans.

12 Celebs You'd Bang If No One knew (Pt 1)

In an effort to keep from being labeled as a ‘Hater’ or having this Blog tagged as gloomy, depressing or ‘Emo’, (if you don’t know the term, find a white person or Google it), I am choosing to eliminate all of my hateful energy and dedicate this post to a subset of women who I truly, utterly and unconditionally love…pseudo-hot celebrities.

Since my early childhood days fawning after Wilma Flintstone, ogling Judy Jetson and wishing I could get into that Robot Vicki (from Small Wonder)’s computer box ,(pun intended), it has been evident that television and the air of celebrity transforms otherwise average looking Chickenheads into silver screen starlets and vixens lusted after by every heterosexual male, albeit in secret. This being said, I embrace my carnal desires and unadulterated love for the Topangas (think Boy Meets World), Laura Winslows and DJ Tanners of the world. While tastes may mature and a myriad of celebrity vixens are constantly swapped in and out of our sexual fantasies, one thing is undeniably sure; America loves an average looking, slightly overweight celebrity sexpot, though they’d seldom admit it.

Love it or hate it, below is my carefully compiled list:

Top 12 Celebrities You Would Sleep With to If No One Were to Find Out.(Part 1) ”

# 12 Celine Dion:

While not bad for a forty-something French Canadian, an attempt must be made to ignore the uber-shnoz she has come to call a nose and the long horse like face. Body is a little lanky, with man hands, but overall she has an athletic sexiness to her, reminiscent of one of those pro beach volleyball Chickenheads. While you’d definitely get clowned for admitting she’s somewhat sexy, you’d definitely be able to get aroused every time that Titanic song came on, thinking about her beautiful…..ummmm…voice. Owwwww.

# 11 Kim Coles

Maaaaaaaan, you know Overton wasn’t hittin that right. I know, she’s a little on the hefty side, but sheeeeeeit……I won’t tell if you don’t tell. C’mon! Keep it 100 America, you were thinking the same thing!

# 10 Ivy Queen

So some say the 37 year old Regeton singer looks like a man and has a voice as deep as DMX after a crack binge. I say Grrrrrrrr, get at me dog (to Ivy of course, not Dark Man X). Honey’s got a body like a Playboy Playmate and a gangsta grill. Even though you’d get more respect from your boys by saying “that b**ch looks like Rupaul,” I simply say “you better work it girl” (no homo). Pa la cama voy.

# 9 America Ferrera

While I know a few of you are saying “how could she make this list, she’s beautiful?” To those of you I say, quit believing what US Weekly and the caucasain editors of Teen people tell you a latina girl should look like. Look at the Spanish Channel, real women have curves, but some of them are also super hot size 4’s. While sexy as hell, (I’d even love to pleasure her while in the Ugly Betty costume), she is what we call a Hamburgler…a few too many chicken Mcnuggets past the tipping point. Nevertheless, America loves you America. I wouldn’t podcast it to the world, but I’d hit that.

# 8 Kirstie Alley

This chick kind of reminds me of Paula Abdul, but in a good way. Something about her parading that fatty around on those Weight Watchers commercials is just plain sexy. What? Don’t act like you have never fantasized while watching the Biggest Loser. I’d deny this one till the end, but definitely wouldn’t mind milking that heifer and making mashed potatoes out of those lovely lady lumps. I apologize if you are utterly disgusted and offended. Just kidding.

# 7 Beth Chapman (Dog the Bounty Hunters Wife)

Oh yes…I said it! And can hear the hate brewing as we speak. Tell me that you have not ever stared at her chest and I will quit Blogging, and go home to read a book. Let’s be honest, we all love the guilty pleasure of watching that god awful show of hillbilly bounty hunters just to catch a glance of those heavy hangers but would never tell anyone. Well, thanks to the pseudo-anonymity of the internet, the truth can finally come out. Did anyone see the episode when Christian Audigier made her the custom cut-up shirt. Ok. I am done as I have begun to salivate.

To be Continued...

And yea, I may have spelled some celebs names wrong...So What! I'm not Perez F**kin Hilton.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Hoes Make Me Sick: Munchausen by Proxy

Once upon a time I was a full time student and frat boy, praying to God for extra hours in the day to both study and get drunk simultaneously. One undergraduate and two Masters degrees later I am fresh out of things to pretend to study and have decided to make the world a better, more comical place by Blogging. Yeah that's right, I'm Blogging. Son. (Extra emphasis to make it sound hard).

Rather than take on the guise of some Internet nerd, (which I completely feel like right now, typing and drinking Sam Adams Cherry Wheat), I am going to keep it 100 with you in saying that many moons ago I was labeled as what some would consider a man whore. While I have since progressed past this stage, it would be a complete and utter farce to pretend that I do not deal with my fair share of women, all of which brings me to the conclusion that hoes f**king make me sick.

Please, do not get it f**ked up America. I am or have been good friends with many a stripper, prostitute or morally lose girl, all of whom take pride in the fact that they are what they are, but are not hoes. When I use the term hoe, I am referring to women who have no home training, act like Chickenheads in public, do not realize that they are acting like Chickenheads in public and copulate with everyone and their cousin Jamal, all the while thinking that this is normal behavior. Golddiggers and white women who will date any black man, so long as he is black and has a name like Jamal, this does not apply to you. Members of the aforementioned groups , however, do not feel as though you have been granted amnesty, you will have your own separate Blogs in due time.

Being a Hoe, in my opinion, is worse than prostitution, golddigging and even some crimes classified as felonies. By sharing your body with ever Tom, Dick and Harry, (emphasis on Tom, he's a shady M'fer), and not even receiving monetary compensation, you are not only giving away something which you can never get back, but are also auctioning away God's Fillet Mignon for the price of a free school lunch (without the little container of apple juice which is always f**king frozen). In addition to this, sleeping with everyone not only creates a cornucopia of new STD strains, like that new Super AIDS sh*t, but it also pisses us men off. For instance, if I spend 420 dollars (including shipping) for a Louis Vuitton Belt, 62 Dollars plus sales tax (unless purchased online) for an Ed Hardy T-shirt and 3 dollars and 15 cents from Wendy's 99 Cent Menu buying you lunch, the fact that you can later go and sleep with someone wearing fake True Religion Jeans and an over sized button up from Kohls is not only disrespectful, it's just plain rude. While this may seem vain at first glance, it is something which has gone through every man's head at some point in his life. In the same way that low quality, imitation goods cheapen the image of the brand, sleeping with high quantities of low quality individuals makes you look like a 2 dollar whore, only far less intelligent, as in the end, you don't even have two dollars.

This being said, I am going to wrap this up as this is getting long and I need a Cherry Wheat. In short, I just want to say, ladies, the world is not as small as you think it is. Contrarily, the world is quite large, vast and all encompassing. What this means, is that if I have been intimate with you and am friends with 2 or more people with whom you have also been intimate, you are absolutely, positively a hoe. Do not take this case to trial with a public defender or Johnny Cochran as you will undoubtedly be found guilty in the Court of Hoe Law. There is no exception to the rule and no explanation for said behavior. Court adjourned.

As the age old adage states, "you cannot turn a hoe into a housewife" and no one is going to try. Women, girls, and old ladies, if you do not respect your bodies enough to safeguard them against swagless impostors wearing bootleg goods, at least respect yourself enough to charge them more than they paid for their cheap outfit. Please take heed as we do not want to see you on Maury, and trust me , we all Tivo that sh*t while we are at work.

Live, Love Life.