Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Birf-day Sex

So I just so happened to be browsing my boy's Facebook profile and came across this hilarious picture.

For those of you, and by that I mean most of you, who are not up on the Connecticut slang, the word "sex" is used as a way of saying something looks crazy or is basically a "hot ghetto mess." Ironically, the new "It song" on the radio right now is called Birthday Sex, and ummmmm....yea, the song is straight sex. No I do not mean that this song is good, nor do I mean that playing it will get you a lot of hoodrat p**ssy (though it may)....what I mean is that this song IS sex. Wack. Cawny (corny w/ my East NY accent). Ass. Booty. Now let me tell you why...

Aside from the fact that newcomer and overall decent crooner Jeremih sounds like he's doing his best imitation of the Dream, his debut song lacks merit as the concept of Birthday Sex is some absolute bullshit! Nobody wants sex for their birthday, they want presents!

This being said, I present to you:

Birthday Sex: How to get dumped in less than two pumps

Think I'm lying? Follow the steps below and see if this Birthday rendezvous does not signify the end of your relationship, as well as the beginning of your distaste for corny R & B singers making ridiculous acts seem permissible just because they can sang...yes I said Saaaaang bi**h. It wasn't a typo.

Birthday Sex: 10 Things Not to Do if You actually like Pu**y.

10. Fall into the trap of believing that because your girl loves rhythm and blues music, that you can get away with the same sorts of things that an attractive (no homo) R & B singer can.

Don't forget the fact that you are not a rich singer who can put his nonsensical gibberish to a melodic beat. You may think you are attractive, but the allure of wealth and fame tend to have an effect on women making them forget all their "jealous b**ch," "quintisential hater," and common sensical tendencies. All of these traits will resurface upon a regular ni**a trying to pull some Trey songs, Usher type sh*t. Your response: Well Usher did it. Hers: Ni**a, you aint Urrrr-sher.

9. Commit the sin of actually listening to and internalizing the lyrics of any R & B song post 1996.

R-kelly f**ked the game up by singing so well that he was allowed to do things like Marry a 14 year old and make a song called "you remind me of my jeep" without getting some standards of common decency slapped back into him. By the time "feelin on your booty came out" people were actually getting in fights and shootouts outside of clubs for 'handling the merchandise." Don't follow his lead. All these girls in these videos (including the minor who got peed on) allowed such behavior to go on because they were GETTING PAID. If you want to act out an R & B lyric, please don't let it be from 'Sex in the Kitchen" and try it out on a prostitute first.

8. Think that surprising your girl with Victorias secret lingerie will get her in the mood...

If it is too small she will be depressed that she's a wild hog, and if it's too big, she will assume you think her to be a gigantic wilder beast. Always go with the Gift-card son.

7. Lie to your girl and tell her you have reservations at a fancy restaurant, before surprising her with the actual plan.

Boo-Yao!! You surprised her! Nope. You just prepped her for the ultimate letdown. No Ruth's Chris, P.F. Changs of Sizzler for her. Just Doritos and some birthday sex...classy. At least have the courtesy to give her some birthday orbit so she can have a clean mouth as she hurls her dirty expletives your way.

6. Light up incense, thinking its the same as candles.

Aint nothin sexy about smelling like Jamaican goat weed, or rastafarian weed masking oil. With all the sexy smells out there you thought that the shit the dude in the Kufi on 125th sold you was the best option? Well...I guess I have heard worse...some people just burn vanilla black and milds in an ashtray and call it a day. Seriously. LMAO.

5. Buy what you think is an expensive bottle of wine.

Ni**a what do you know about wine? If the extent of your knowledge of wine involves boones farm or Arbor Mist, and you pronounce the word bordeaux (bor-ducks), then you, my friend, shoulda just bought a six pack of corona and a BIRTHDAY CAKE, you insensitive ass-munch. I guess you're lucky your girl is a hoodrat and wouldn't know good wine if it mounted her and gave her an orgasm.

4. Dim the lights and turn up that Jeremih...

Hope your house is clean, because if not, anyone from the hood will tell you roaches come out at night. The key to navigating this treacherous sea of embarrassment is to go with either lights on or off....none of this sexy 'dim' shit where the roaches feel safe to come out AND YOU CAN STILL SEE THEM. Dumb ass.

3. Tell here that you're her present...and to come unwrap you.

First off, I don't like the words unwrap and sex in the same sentence, as its important to always wrap it up. Secondly, you are setting yourself up for comments like "I know I said I didn't want anything big but..." LOL. Case in point, if you offer yourself as the 'present' you better deliver like Fed-ex or risk being kicked to the curb and cock blocked from anyone your now ex-girlfriend may know.

2. Ask her "where she wants her gift?"

Why not just say 'can I skeet in your face?' or "you wanna do this anal or oral?" See. Now you realize how silly this sounds. I'm sure Jeremih was laughing his ass off reading the lyrics that the dream most likely wrote, thinking of how many relationships he'd end by gassing dudes up to get dumped and then banging their groupie girlfriends back stage. Tis a sad, sad world...but somebody's gotta sing about it.

1. Hit her back after she slaps the pigeon shit out of you.

Dodge and weave brotha, dodge and weave. I don't condone violence against women, especially when it's your own fault for being a cheap malleable son of a b**ch easily persuaded by the ills of syndicated radio. Apologize to her. When she goes to sleep, however, redeem your manhood by going in her fridge and popping one off in the milk. Sheiiiit. If she's not gonna do it, somebody has to. Happy Birthday beyyyyyyatch.

Well, there you have it, a recipe for B-day madness. Don't get mad cause we stylllin on you R & B Thugs.

Live, Love, birthdays...Lol


Monday, June 29, 2009

Miss. Mulatto...Yes ni**a, I said Miss.

Those of you familiar with my alter-ego Mr. Mulatto, know that I take great pride in being a bridge between cultures, providing both Caucasians and ordinary negroes with insight as to the customs and practices of their respective races. Now I know a few of yall are saying, "yes ni**a...we know this, but what the f**k is a 'Miss Mulatto?'

Chill out people...and let me explain.

No fellas I have not lost my mind and turned the blog over to a female, nor have I gone Ru-paul and gotten a sex change (gross.) What your friend good Ol' Mr. Mulat [sic] has went and done (with a little help from my boy Scoochie-Man Le Fleur) , was create a special subsection of Mulatto insight, dedicated to all the special chocolate and vanilla creamsicles (no homo) out there. I love my ladies, and as a way to show my affection, I offer thee a special gift. Enjoy it, embrace it and love it...like a homo with a bag full of d**ks. No homo. LOL.

Miss Mulatto: A List (Pt. 1)
Things White Women do That Black Women Should Try

5. Jogging
Now I say a lot of things that get me in trouble and today will be no different. Love it or hate it, the honest truth is that you never see black women jogging. Perhaps this is a result of the extreme 'distribution of health' which divides the population of black females into the categories of either gym rats or fat, Maury Povich watching couch potatoes.whatever the reason, however, you will often see black women engaging in their own version of this phenomenon, a so-called exercise we will describe as 'walking.'

Newsflash, you are wasting your time. The minimal amount of calories burned do not even take care of the breakfast you allowed yourself to eat as a treat for waking up so early and exercising. Silly rabbits. Just because you put on a discount Nike jogging suit from the clearence rack at T.J. Maxx does not make "walking" exercise. People do it everyday...just consider it collateral damage for having to get from one place to another. Ladies, take a lesson from black men (when being followed by police)...START RUNNING, or at the very least, try a moderate jog.

4. Thrift store shopping (not discount rack or clearance)

Now, before all of my white fans start going bourgeoisie on me, just remember that I am talking about average, run of the mill white women...not you hoes with Sugar daddies, or six figure salaries which allow you to buy Louis Vuitton (lucky bi**hes!) This being said, white women have no problem wearing hand me downs from other white people. Don't believe me? Look at the type of sh*t that people buy on Ebay. While I personally think that buying someones used Bra, Boyshorts or gold teeth is utterly disgusting, I cannot knock your hustle for staying trendy on a budget.

Black women, don't start your pontificating. We all know you shop last years styles at Marshalls, buy imperfect Coach bags at the Outlet and buy shoes from Payless, Nine West or DSW. I'm not saying anything is wrong with this, but one type of discount shopper looking down upon another is like the pot calling the Kettle black...or the crack rock calling the baking soda white (drug game reference. lol) Sheeeeeeit...at least at thrift stores you're donating to those in need rather than fueling greed in corporate America.

3. Implants
Given our previous post on boobs, I'm sure you all know how we feel about this one. Don't hate on black men for trying to holla at white women (with humongous racks) if you are not willing to sacrifice a lifetime without back pain and upgrade. Everyone loves an upgrade...just ask cell phone companies how many people would prefer to keep their old phone rather than get a new one for free. While I know this isn't entirely the same thing, (only because you can't make calls or text message from ti**ies), the fact of the matter is, new tits are better than old ones...especially new, bigger ones!! Suck it up ladies and get some silicone. With white women getting those new ass implants you better catch up before the process of Darwinian natural selection makes you obsolete. LOL.

2. Giving head (pardon my vulgarity. lol)

That Pic pretty much says it all. Is that really how you white women think of us? If so, God bless America (despite the fact that we were ripped from our motherland and sold at auction.) Now, don't get me wrong, I am not saying that all white women perform this act, or than no black women do...what I am saying is that in terms of percentages, white women do it more. Sike! They definitely do it more, but I didn't learn that from statistics. I learned it from being the Black President of a white Fraternity. Holla. Yall are probably thing, "ewww...you nasty! Go get tested." I did, last week. LMAO. This being said....Beautiful black princess, goddess of the earth, can you...errrr....slob the knob like corn on the cob, otherwise do me a favor...tap that white girl on the shoulder. LOL.

1. Paying your man's bills (including bail)

Why is it wrong that I said that? I'm not saying that I would like to emasculate myself and have a woman take care of me, however....If I get locked up, I do expect her to post bail and or litigate my trial pro-bono (no-homo).

White women take care of their men, and (if they themselves are fat) pay their man's bills. Why does this occur you ask? low self esteem? A desire to be loved? Who knows. What I do know, however, is that if they can do it, so can you strong black sisters! While I may not let you actually pay my bills, I would appreciate your offering, as the day will come when you need some money to put minutes on your boost phone. Just as a precursory warning, if you let me sit in jail for a few days, fighting for my street credibility and anal virginity while you are out driving my whip and fornicating with my boys, I will kick you, your clothes and your fatherless bastard children out on the lawn...and then turn the sprinklers on before calling the police.

Black women...don't end up like this... post bail.

Live, Love, Cream in my coffee and chocolate in my latte

Show "me your 36-24-36" 's Rocka

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Showrock's Sunday Stories pt. 1: The Story of Lina Medina

Anyone who actually knows me, or is familiar with the blog, knows that aside from being an asshole and prick in real life, I am also a pretty intelligent guy who knows a lot of random sh*t. This being said, I often use my posts as a means to educate, slipping morsels of knowledge in with comedic wit. Don't start thinking I'm no punk bi**h though, as I will quickly tell you that aside from using the power of electronic media to disseminate knowledge, I also use it to get bi**hes...bad bi**ches.

The other day my bff 'Sex doll,' (dont even ask how he got that name. no homo), informed me of a true life story that I would have never have f**kin believed were it not for the substantive Internet proof. Lol. I do not read fiction, nor do i write it or condone it. With so many things in the world I am ignorant of (i.e. the chromosomal make-up of midgets, origin of the standard bra sizing system, or original recipie for Codeine Sizzurp), I cannot even fathom the idea of wasting my time reading something that never happened in real life. As I take this blog seriously, I promise not to waste any of your time with hogwash tomfoolery either. The following story is 100% true, though I will do my best to make it funnier than it actually is (all while keeping the facts accurate.)

The Story of Lina Medina...aka Baby Pop-Off

Born on September 27th 1933 in Pisco, a small village in Peru, Lina was pretty much like any other baby free from the grasp of R-kelly, myspace predators and catholic priests.

Shortly after reaching her fifth birthday, members of the medina household began thinking that their daughter was gravely ill, as she began showing interesting symptoms and apparently had developed an abdominal tumor. Seeing as how ni**as didn't have escalades and hummers to drive the sick little child to the doctor many miles away, local witchdoctors most likely gave the baby a few shots of hennesey mixed with goat blood or some sh*t, and were somehow surprised that she wasn't miraculously cured. Needless to say, the miracle of modern science had not yet transplanted itself in the Peruvian Andes.

As the child became more and more ill, Lina's father was somehow able to transport her an actual doctor, Gerardo Lozada, who informed him that not only was Lina without abdominal tumor...she was also with child! Yes. Five year old Lina Medina was diagnosed with a disease called precocious puberty. She had been having regular periods since eight months old and was now, at the age of five, seven months pregnant. Not only was Lina a pint sized miniature woman (reproductively), but someone had also had the nerve to pop off inside her and get her pregnant. Sick Bastards.

On May 14th 1939, mother's day for christ sake, Lina gave birth (via Cesarean section) to a health 5 pound nine oz baby boy, which scared the living sh*t out of her. What the fu*k? Is this surprising to anyone? A child molested at four years old and who would rather play with dolls then her own child...imagine that. Nevertheless, the baby was born perfectly healthy and the family lived happily ever after.

Yea right. How could the F**k could a five year old (the world's youngest mother) end up happily ever after. While the baby was born healthy, he was raised as though he were Lina's baby brother, and did not find out the truth until he was ten. While Lina never informed Doctors as to who the father was, her father was loccccccccked up (Akon Voice), for suspicion of child molestation. Good! If he didn't do it, he should've kept a better eye on his daughter and not allowed her to get filled up with the quintessential man-skeet pourage or cauliflower soup, as christened by the Faceguys. Due to primitive detective work and lack of medical proof, Lina's father was released from prison and life went on as normally as it could for such a disfunctional family.

Lina's child died at 4o years old. due to an unrelated illness, but she herself is till alive and married, having a second child. She avoids the press like white people avoid wash cloths, but if you google her you can find out more about our own little baby pop off. While some theories exist as to Lina not being raped, but rather, as a result of her condition, having the actual sex drive of a mature woman and seeking out a partner, I don't buy that sh*t for one minute. Keep it 100. Someone, besides Lina, knows who popped off in her and that perv, who is not named R-kelly due to dates, ages and time lines, is still out there knockin baby boots.

Let this be a lesson to you Jonas brothers and anyone bumpin uglies with Miley Cyrus. If you pop off in a little girl she may get pregnant and you will be f**ked. There will be evidence that you f**ked and consequently you will go to jail and be f**ked. Upon release, if at all possible, you will have to register as a sex offender and your life will be fu*ked. Upon dying you will be condemned to Hell by GOD, a place where you will be surrounded by other rapists who are bigger and stronger than you, and you will be F**ked eternally. If you are a woman rapist you will forever be condemned to life as a necrophiliac, meaning you will most likely be sucking off corpses....ewwww.

In short, please take advantage of the wealth of TRUE knowledge available for consumption on the net (including that portrayed at Nappyheadedbros.com), and remember...

Misogyny is cool, but violence against women and children is not.

Live, Love, Learning Something New


Saturday, June 27, 2009

Nobody Cares About You...You Suck.

In browsing my pseudo-girlfriend's blog, (which I didn't even know existed until today), I read an interesting post on what actual purpose a blog serves. Funny thing is, when reading the question aloud, I couldn't come up with an answer. What the F**k is the purpose of a Blog? Is it for wannabe tough guys to gain a sense of self importance protected by the anonymity of the Internet and concealment of their real, not so tough or interesting identity?

Maybe blogs exist merely as a means of creative self-expression. Maybe they exist because ni**as need something to read at work or on their cellphones in order to kill time. Whatever the purpose, one thing is for sure...95% of blogs suck most likely as a consequence of their authors not knowing what the f**k they are doing, or how to entertain an audience.

Guess what? I don't fall into that category. I'm a 5% er.

I know exactly what the f**k I'm doing and why my blog exists. I have been writing a book for almost a year now and want to hone my writing skills in the fratire genre (look it up). More importantly, I want to see if I can gain a large enough following to even warrant me becoming a published author, and to see if my life is as interesting as I think it is. Who the f**k am I kidding, I just want to make enough money doing this that I can quit my job and act crazy, get drunk and f**k hoes for a living...like Tucker Max.

Enough of this sh*t...back to being funny.

Let today's post be a warning...the blog killer is back. F**k you're blog...we the best (Dj Khaled Voice)...and now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Nobody cares about you, you suck:

A list of people who should have just been aborted with wire hangers

So I've already succeeded in pissing a bunch of women off by telling single mothers who've overcome adversity to shut the f**k up and praise themselves in silence. This is fact. Despite various males, who shall remain nameless, giving me daps, pounds and praise for the previously mentioned post, I am going to leave that subject alone...I have bigger (Mo'Nique sized) fish to fry. The following represents the worst of the worst...people who should be face f**ked with a spiked dildo until their vocal chords cease to exist.

10. Pseudo or B-list celebrities complaining about being famous

Jon, Kate and your eight troll monster kids: you are not even supposed to be famous! You make 80 grand an episode just for having a loose vagina and taking care of your own responsibilities. Excuse me? Do I hear you complaining about the paparazzi and celebdom? Fine. Go back to your old shack and non-celebrity mothering duties. P.S. Take Octomom with you (unless of course she agrees to do that Porn that Vivid offered her a million dollars to do.)

9. People with Giant SUV's complaining about Gas

No one that wasn't a rapper told you to buy an Escalade! I'm not a hater, I'm just saying...(ignore the fact that haters always say that). Unless you have a need for 8 seats, or just like taking up two parking spaces, you should probably downgrade and pick something more suitable for your economic climate. Or you can just stop being broke, and spending gas money at the club on bottles of Nuvo. Should've gotten a Scion XB or a BMW X3 since you've apparently you're off generating estrogen instead of income. Beeeeyatch.

8. People leasing Cars they cant afford and complaining about taxes

This group of people go hand in hand with those in complaint # 9. If you cannot afford the maintenence of a car (including oil changes, paying taxes and getting car washes..lol), don't buy it! Go hook-up a honda Civic or something rather than splurging on that used 1993 Lexus. This is the equivalent of people buying fancy pre-paid Boost mobile phones and not having money for minutes. Sure your phone can get live video streams, take pictures and play MP3's, but ni**a can you make a call!!? Don't laugh...having a shiny new Benz with a Boot on it for unpaid taxes or tickets is just as bad.

7. Puertoricans and Dominicans complaining about Mexicans

You all speak spanish right? You all have mixed Indian blood in your ancestory (be it Taino, Tarascan or Huiscol), so stop hating on each other. Yes Mexicans have flat butts and are shorter, but they also tend to work harder. Sure puertoricans age faster, but they have the best parade, and while Dominicans pernil may not be as good, their asses are fatter. Agreed? Agreed.

6. Fat girls wearing tight clothes to show that "Big is Beautiful"

There are two things that I do not have a problem with: big girls believing they are beautiful, and big girls being slutty as a means to get physically fit guys to f**k them in a drunken stupor. Both these acts are permissible. Why is it, however, that many big girls think that 'wearing the same thing a skinny woman would wear" makes you big and sexy? In actuality, the end result is often the antithesis of sexy, and you come off looking foolish. I love big women (if they truly are sexy) and say go ahead...wear your boy shorts, thongs and form fitting jeans. DON'T, however, wear midriffs, daisy dukes, mesh shirts or any of that other nonsense that skinny girls get away with not because it looks good on them, but because they putting their artistically cut bodies on display.

5. White people comparing Slavery to the Holocaust

Both were horrible events in history the effects of which many are feeling today, however, they were not and are not the same thing. That is all.

4. People Hating on Strippers

Would you put your body on display for the world to see and criticize? If not, then shut up and let these women get their money. It is a job people!!! Despite the fact that most strippers are whores of their own volition, dancing for money is no different than punching a clock (if that clock started at 10 pm and ended at 3am.) Do you think strippers strip because they like crawling around naked and having to give secret hand and blow jobs just to make real money? Hell nah....It's a job, just like anything else. Ballerina? Stripper in a tutu. Back-up Dancer? Stripper with groupie tendencies. Cashier? A future stripper working on her accounting skills. LOL. Don't worry ladies...The faceguys, NappyheadedBros and Ho whisperers love yall...(I got a network bi**hes!)

3. Girls sucking di*ck and not swallowing

Repeating this ridiculous phrase is like saying, "I commit burglaries..but not armed robberies." It sounds foolish. Either you do this act in the privacy of your own home, car or hallyway (lol), or you admit the fact that your dignity is smeared just as much by sucking d**k and not swallowing as it is by going the 'whole 9 yards.' LOL. And while I'm at it I might as well tell yall to start lickin balls! LMAO. No Homo.

2. Rappers saying "I'm not a rapper"

If you are not a rapper than I would kindly like my 9.99 back for my itunes download as well as an explanation. Its funny how everyone who raps without a record deal says they're a rapper
and everyone getting paid to rap says they're a "trapper, gangsta or hustler". Go figure. If you get paid to rap, you are a rapper. Plus, the last time I checked, gangstas didn't get manicures, carry Louis Vuiton Man Bags and have stylists. BTW, Lil Wayne actually has someone to cut his food into pieces for him since he says hes too busy!!! I love wayne, no homo, but that ain't gangsta!!!!!!

1. Ni**as getting caught on "to Catch a Predator" attempting to explain themselves

If you've ever seen this show where men come to a house thinking they're gonna bang an underage girl they met on the Internet, but get set up by NBC and the cops, you are familiar with the ridiculous excuses. Predator: "I wanted to be her mentor", Chris Hanson: "well why did you ask her if she'd ever tried Anal, and why are you holding beer and condoms." LMAO. This shouldn't be funny but it is. If you are caught on this show, it's a wrap! Give it up. Finito. There's no explaining trying to 'Bang Bang Skeet" (Shout out To Naledge) with a minor.

Whaaaat (biggie voice.) There ain't no more to it.

Live, Love, Me


Friday, June 26, 2009

Breasts: An In depth study: Pt. 4 Throw Some D's on it

While C cups can be described as nothing short of perfect, the absurdity and shock value of a nice set of D cups will quickly remind you that there's a reason teachers and professors alike define a "C" as average. This being said, I know a lot of you may not be in agreement with the fact that bigger is always better. You are wrong. Bigger is always better, and if you require substantive proof, ask a woman...just not yours. She may want to spare your feelings.

While occasionally D cups become so monstrously large and veiny that they achieve novelty or freak-show value, they are still worth their weight in gold...liquid, hot white gold. LOL. Maybe it's our own penchant for strippers and girls who are as thick as adidas laces, which draws us to these buxom beauties, or maybe it is simply human nature.

We would all prefer a gallon of milk to a half gallon provided we weren't the one carrying the jug home. Tis the same with those heavy hangers that cause so many a female back problem. D-Cups, in this respect, are like babies...Sure it sucks for you to carry them around, but we have fun playing with them :)

Ok. Enough of this watered down version of the Showrock show...Let's be honest...I love ti**es, ass and all things related. I could give a f**k if you have to custom order your bras, or can only wear apple bottom jeans because your ass is too plump...it looks awesome! Ill let you deal with the f**king logistics. But what about women who want to be viewed as more than talking sperm receptacles and temperature controlled love dolls? Insert C4 catch phrase: It's funny you should say that, hater.

Girls who don't want to be viewed as sex objects are sacrilegious atheists! Yea I said it. While it is entirely permissible for a girl to want to be viewed as MORE than just a sex object, asking men not to notice this milk squirting God given difference between sexes is like asking us to foresake our Lord...our Man-Lord who obviously rewarded the progeny of his faithfullest of followers with D-Cups. In the words of one of those Sesame Street ni**as, D is for Divine.
Before letting America and its 'model thin standard of beauty undo all of our brainwashing in favor of D-cups let us leave you with one final thought. Their is no coincidence that coffee companies and Bra manufacturers both work with cups as their standard unit of measurement. In the same way that phallic symbols can often subconsciously lead to sexual arousal, coffee companies have learned that associating their products with oversized breasts is as effective an eye opener as caffeine. A few examples...

1. Starbucks.

Their logo is a sensuous mermaid with her ti**ies out. They are covered, but if exposed they look to be around the D-cup range.

2. Dunkin Donuts.

It is pretty obvious why the logo adorning the cups of America's favorite coffee is the all important DD (Double D.)

3. Cafe Bustello Coffee.

Aside from having a gorgeous woman on the can, it f**king has the word 'Bust' right in the name!!

4. Folgers
With a logo like "Mountain Grown" and two perky peaks in the background, this one is obvious as well.

5. Green Mountain Coffee

This offers more substantive proof of the mountains = breasts theory.

6. Eight O' Clock CoffeeHuh? I know a lot of you did not initially pick up on this one, but after a brief explanation it will be as clear as a teenage face after Pro-Activ. When the hands of a clock form 8'0 clock, a 240 degree angle is made from the bottom of the breast to the cleavage line. Only breasts in the D and DD range are capable of making this angle. Don't believe me? See my research below.

We should get paid for figuring this stuff out.

Well ladies, there you have it. Now you know what we're thinking as we ogle you in the coffe shop, and why so-called tough guys have no problem ordering talls, grandes and veintis. One thing, however, is for certain...if you see us in a Starbucks, the Barrista knows what we're getting... "D"-calf.

Live, Love, Deliciously Delectable Double-D Darlings


Once More, To ya door, Knocker's Hangin to the floor

C-Fo' (4)

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Bosoms: Part 3: C-Cups

Whether you like them Notoriously B.I.G. or just prefer some "lil C's", (Damn I'm clever), you cannot deny the aesthetic importance of America's average breast size. Yes that's right, all the hormones and sh*t they put in milk combined with .69,.79 and .99 cent tacos have finally caught up with us, as America's average cup size has risen from B to C. God bless America.

No homo...

Despite the fact that I graduated Cum Laude or some sh*t (no homo) we had a saying back in our fraternity house that pretty much got us all through college: "C's get degrees." Now I know you are all thinking how the f**k does this relate to breasts, other than the fact that you can easily hang a graduation cap from each tit individually? Be paitent for a second and let me explain.

Trying on your first C-Cup bra is like getting fitted for your college cap and gown. You've previously viewed others make this transition and have waited all your teenage or adolescent life for this moment in which you become more than a woman...you become an extremely hot one.

F**k what ya heard, C-cups make average women attractive and ugly women completely "hoseable." LOL. As a sidenote, to those of you women who say you've never aspired to be the coveted C-cup, I appoligize for my inability to rationalize with small tittied, hairy nippled haters. Like the prestige of a college degree, C cups will help you on job interviews and ensure that employers take a "second look" an your...ummm...resume. Your little brothers and sisters will even look up to you.

If all else fails, just know your built in airbags will make a pretty good diploma stand, or a kickass (white word of the day) Facebook profile pic.

Ok, I'm going to let C4 go hard (no homo) on this post as I can't really hate on C-Cups, and therefore am finding it extremely difficult to be funny and entertaining. I will, however say one last thing...If I could do anything in the world right now, I would construct a flesh cushoned condom made of C-Cup cartilidge and tit f**k the sh*t out of every small tittied heiffer just so they would know what it feels like to have the worlds most coveted knockers across her chest.
Poetic...I know...

Like Her. Well, Ok...I lied. Those are NOT C's. But I like em. LOL.

C4 On C-Cups: The Jordans of Breasts

Yeah I said it. It's true. If titties were kicks, C's would be Air Jordans. The most coveted. You get seen with a fresh pair and damn, people turn heads. It's a beautiful thang. Like the alphabet, when someone says "woman's measurements," the first figures (wink) in your head are 36-24-36, and a C after that first 36 is certainly implied, ya dig!!!

But just like Jordans, everything ain't roses for these heavenly bosoms. First you have these insecure flat-chested lames who hate on you for perfect pair, stick-up kids who wanna jack you for your Jordans (molesters), and countless as***les making cheap counterfeits, driving down prices and diminishing the overall value of your sacred mounds. We call these IMPLANTS. Yes, yes! Like the Burberry Jordan makers Show exposed early in the blog, jealous A-cuppers pay top dollar to replicate the outer appearance of that sexy C. But no! We boobie connoisseurs and Jordan enthusiasts have watched enough porn and strippers to spot the fakers and shame them for their treachery and inherent low self-esteem. For shaaaaaame! And they just don't feel right for anybody. Don't bounce, the women have lost sensation, it's all bad. But I digress.

The other Jordan-like pitfall of the C-cup is you can't be walking around and them s***s is scuffed, son! You will be clowned!

"What do you mean, like a mark on the titty?"

YES, n***a!!! A STRETCH-mark! Eeeeeeeew!!! And this is one of those things the B's have the upper hand on (good look anonymous commenter from yesterday). With time C's will stretch, sag, hang, get that nasty pendulum thing going on like those African villager women from National Geographic with plates in their lips.

And don't even think about walking around in last year's pair once the new ones come out! Is you crazy?!?!?! Ya herb!!! Because of the shorter shelf life of these coveted chest-sneakers, the younger they are the better, ya dig!!! (With 18 being the limit of course, 20 just to be safe, ya heard). B's (aka Air Force Ones) are far more resistent to the scourges of time due to their design and durability (got ya toothbrush? you can rehabilitate them joints repeatedly) so they don't suffer from the same competition of the contemporary. But ladies don't get it twisted. 20 year-old C-cups will ALWAYS beat 30 y/o C-cups, hands down. Gotta have the latest pair out son, don't be slackin' on ya pimpin.

The other "fault" I can find with these All-Star titties is that they tend NOT to accompany a phat ass. They just don't. It's karma. One or the other. Great boobs or great butt. You have to choose. God has decreed it so, to ensure genetic fairness. It's SO rare to see the two come in the same package. I have only seen this up close one time, and God was still fair because the woman He gave these gifts to had a face that looked like it had been set on fire and put out with a baseball bat. B**** looked like she had fought 12 rounds, real talk. But that's why there's doggystyle. But I digress...

Of course I can only hate on C's so much, I love them so dearly. Some of the best breasts of my life have been C's. In fact all the best breasts of my life have been C's. And the lack of ass thing is the calling card of who? WHITE LAAAADIES!!!! (cue black women reading this immediately turn to severe stank face) Yeah. I. Said it. Charge it to the game. Just like you're more likely to find a black woman with a great ass, you're more likely to find a white woman with a great rack (I'll break it down fully in another post to include everybody). And that's fine, ya know. I don't discriminate. But if you like vanilla, and you wanna mix some milk, wit ya cocoa puff, milky milky cocoa puff (no homo) then a C-cup cutie is for YOU, my friend!

Back to the Jordans though. If C-Cup = Jordan, then:

36C = Air Jordan XI, the symbol of the legend during his most vintage time, the beginning of the second 3Peat. Brings a tear to my eye looking at Playboys from the '90s when everybody woman had a 36C. And then when I was "finished" with the magazine I'd go watch the Bulls play the Sonics. Back in the days when I was young I'm not a kid anymore......

34C = Jordan VII. The best ones ever! It's a slim chick with a great rack! How can you hate anything about these?! Women with these? I call them WIVES. I'm drooling right now thinking about a pair of 34C's sitting on top of a pair of Jordan VIIs. The black ones of course....and I JIZZED, IN, MY PANTS.

38C = Championship edition, out right now. You greedy f***. You couldn't decide, you just had to have it all, didn't you? You're an extremist, a glutton. You needed to combine the powers of six different types of shoes. You like big tits regardless of the chick they come on, even if she's a stylistic clusterf***. I can't hate on you. But you're probably really a D-cup man.

32C: Jordan VIII: REALLY skinny girl with a huge rack. FAKE ALERT! Check these twice before you buy these retros, even though they're almost as hot as the VIIs. If they're legit, then God bless you and the chick they came with.

To Ya Door, Once More, in a fresh pair of Black Jordan VIIs,

Live, Love, C's, B.I.G. and college degrees,

Knockers: an In Depth Study : Part 2 B-Cups

Shakespeare once posed the question "To be, or not to Be?" While I personally have no idea what the f**k that means, I do know that any sane male who chooses "2 B's" over one C (cup) is indeed of questionable sexuality. Zing. (Enough with the Booooooo, ni**a, Booooo's), I'm funny bi*tch!

Lets "B" serious (pun intended). I did not come here to discuss poetic verse or iambic pentameter with my small following of e-readers, but rather to challenge the age old misconception that when it comes to mammarial glands, "more than a handful is wasted." Yea F**king right. Whoever created that cheesy hallmark card saying must have been a small tittied product of cocaine, Jim Beam and incest. No offense. As I'm sure you can tell by now, I'm leaving all of the gay "different body types for different people, sometimes B cups are awesome" talk for C4. I'm in my Star and Bucwild zone this week and am not holding anything back. Bi****hes!!!!!!! Don't like it, go kick rocks...or better yet, go kick a pile of heroin syringes with open toed sandals on.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming...

B-Cups: A Definition

If C cups are the stunningly gorgeous varsity cheerleaders and A-cups their retarded...excuse me..physically handicapped little sisters, B-cups are the often ignored middle child who no one pays attention to until she gets kidnapped or molested by some creepy uncle. To put this in simpler terms, comparing A-cups to B cups is like comparing a physically handicapped girl, to a girl who is simply so repulsively ugly that she would be better off handicapped. While the handicapped sister (whom we will refer to as sister A)would be viewed sympathetically (and even get her own special Bus!), sister B would merely make other girls laugh, babies cry and boys all shun her until she's smart enough to realize that by becoming the first girl in middle school to give head, she can easily make her B-cup problems disappear. It sounds f**ked up, but hey...that's just life.

B-Cups: Determining if they're right for you

Gay guys and herbs alike love us wack B-cup hoes. And women love us because we don't make them feel threatened!

If you are gay, but not that gay (i.e. if you are a Will.I.am on a scale of 1 to Kanye), you may like a B-cupped hottie. Wait? Can I even say hottie and B-cup in the same sentence...Oh yea, I can. J-Lo and I believe Tahiry (Joe Buddens' King Magazine model Girlfriend) are both B's. It is important to note, however, that both of these women have larger than life sized donkey's (asses) to overcompensate. Apparently J.C was going heavy on the Hennessey that day and must've hit the Booty button twice when he was creating these beauties. Oooooh. They're so fine I'd drink their bath water...simultaneously ...with a straw.

Pump, pump-pump it up!!!

Anyways...If you want a girl you can chest bump or do the limbo with, go get yourself a B. Ladies (with B cups), I will glady recant if you think I am being too harsh and you have a legitimate reason why you believe so. Just kidding, I won't recant and will probably begin to make you feel very embarrassed and stupid, cursing the world for your "vitamin B"... deficiency. LOL. Damn, I shouldn't have said that, now no ones gonna comment. C4 please save us before we never get any pu**y again, on account of my misogynistic ranting!!! Oh wait....One last thing.

B cups are like NDL's as my homegirl Bui would say. NDL's are non descript Latinos...its obvious they're from some Spanish speaking country, but you'll be damned if you're taking the risk of guessing the wrong one. Go ahead and see if the analogy rings true. See how mad a 36 B gets when you call her a 30, or even worse, a 38 A. Now take a picture of her reaction with your iphone (unless you are too poor to buy one). Next, call a Puertorican person Dominican and try to snap a quick pic of her face before she snaps your phone in half. Point proven, case closed. Also, as a sidenote: anyone who can actually send me a picture of those two reactions, or some nice "cups" with the words Nappyheadedbros in the picture will get a free Polo Shirt. :) happy hunting.

To be Puerto Rican is fly, but pa ser Boricua is so much flyer!

Wild Card Titties (C4's B-Cup Damage Control: Because Show is losing his Mind.)

Dis n***a wants to make sure neither one of us see breasts of any size again! And to think he started off saying I'd say "gay" sh** about the B's. What a difference a couple paragraphs make. Check it man, I'm about go to B-at for these B-reasts that are B-cups, ya dig!! Well, kinda.

My daddy always said, B-Cups are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna
get. Reeeeaaaalll Talk. They truly are the wild-card titties, because the range in quality is so wide that you could have a nearly textbook-perfect pair of boobs or some sad soggy triangles looking like the Droopy Dog.

In the Boobie Batting Lineup, B-Cups hit at the top or the bottom of the order (non-baseball fans try to follow). The best ones lead off or bat second, have a high on-base percentage (popularity), and always go to All-Star game. Think of Halle Berry's rack as the Derek Jeter of boobs, Stacy Dash's being the Ichiro (better but less famous). The not-so-talented ones never hit before 7th, maybe 6th if your team lacks power (C-cups). And trust they might hit after the pitcher if they're really wack. These breasts don't hit lots of home runs for their owners, but if they hit for high average, steal enough bases, they're going to the Hall (Beyonce, anyone?)

You aaaare, the Proto-type!!!

But we all know, (esp Show apparently) what a bad B-Cup looks like. But what does a great B-Cup look like? Well funny you should ask that, hater. For you see there are some distinct advantage to great B-cups. Here they are:

1. They are likelier to come with a matching bubble-booty (an attainable one, not one you'll only find on pornstars, strippers and video hoes), creating a more balanced babe to admire, and if you're lucky enough, enjoy. Think J-Lo, Nia Long, Rihanna, Cassi, Keisha Knight Pulliam (Families That Can Get It Pt 2 on the way), the list goes on! If you like a long-haired thick redbone, then B-reasts are for you!!!

I been shakin, stickin and movin, tryna get to yooooouuuuuu, and dat booooty!

2. Biggest advantage over C-cups, on the low: PERKINESS. Great B's tend to sit up just right, ya dig?!?!?!?! So much less likely to sag, nice and full, just eager to please like Lassi nahmean?!?!?!

B-Cups. Case Closed.

"I feel you, (pause. no homo), But yo son... which sizes should a ne-yucka be looking for?"

Very good question Showrock. Here's a rundown of optimal B-reasts.

1. 32B = Petite sexy thang, 19 years old, 5'2", slim but curvy in the chest.
2. 34B = hottie of average height, badonkadonk, fit.
3. 36B = tall glass of water, model-like build (except she eats every day)

And that's it. 38Bs are big girls whose boobs aren't big enough proportionally, and 30Bs are anorexic chicks with implants, WHICH ARE LAME!!!!

C4:Nope. That's all bra. What you're looking at is a lie.

To Ya Door, Once More, No B-eef No More,

Live, Love, Vitamin C...