Close your eyes and think for a moment about the people you have had relations with on a regular basis. Now ladies, imagine if the wrong one got you pregnant. Gentlemen, imagine if you got that jumpoff pregnant. Most men will smash an occasional jumpoff from time to time. Men, get it through your head that women will have relations with a guy strictly because they want their back blown out in a way you can’t do. Get it through your head. She knows she doesn’t want to be in a relationship with this guy, she just wants the sex. Now see, if she should so happen to get pregnant by dude, the ball is in her court.
If you’re a guy and you get that jumpoff pregnant, “that’s yo ass.”
A jumpoff knows that she has you by the balls. And she’s not letting go without a fight. To be honest, this may be the only time she’s able to get some legitimate attention from a man. This may also be her best shot at ever getting a man to be consistent in her life. If she’s a hood rat she probably told you over AIM, so you’re sitting at your computer pressing, Control + Alternate + Delete. But it’s not working… This is not like your Verizon bill that you can just ignore until they turn your phone off and you have to pay the past due balance. It doesn’t matter you are still pressing, CTRL+ALT+DEL over and over again.
First off, you know you can’t tell any of your homies because they’re already laughing at you. Maybe a few of your boys will pour out a little liquor for you, but best believe there is a conversation going on titled, “He got that b*tch pregnant.” There is nothing like knowing that the entire hood smashed, like 10-15 dudes and you were the lucky one to get her knocked up. Of all the times you wish you hadn’t came, the one you can’t get back is what you’re left with.
Right after it settles in that she is pregnant, there’s two immediate thoughts that come almost concurrently; (1) That baby might not even be yours, and (2) she probably still piping another dude even while pregnant with your alleged baby. I’ll tell you one thing, the feeling that the baby might not even be yours is a touchy one, because you don’t want to pull a Kane from Menace II Society and start barking… You may end up shot. (Pause, was that not the dumbest representation of African American logic in the history of movies? So you mad that old homeboy got your cousin pregnant and denied it, so you kill the father of your cousin’s baby?)
There’s a few models for how you can react; the Rae Carruth, or Tanard Jackson model of dealing with unwanted pregnancies. Now, Rae-Rae got himself into a situation where his side chick decided to keep a child out of wedlock and instead of just dealing with it. He arranged to have her killed. Rae Carruth stands for everything that is dumb with #lightskinnation. Why when you are making millions of dollars, do you not just cut the check, and move on? Instead, you ended up locked up without the millions of dollars, and they found your tall behind in the trunk of a car. It all went tumbling down.
Save us all the trouble, there are plenty of ways of solving and unexpected pregnancy than killing the jumpoff. You will be in jail and your baby will be raised without a father. (By the way, Rae Carruth’s son was born and is ten years old now and suffers from cerebral palsy.)
Now Tanard Jackson another football player like Rae, got a porno star pregnant. And there’s a big difference between getting the chick that the hood went through pregnant and a chick that you know at least 70-80 dudes have been through… and taped it. So basically what Tanard did is admit to getting a jumpoff pregnant, a porn star pregnant, and then said, “I wish it didn’t happen, but I’ll take care of the… KID.” He was clear to direct his donations.
If either of these don’t sound like something you could do, then you should do, what I would do; CALL MAURY POVICH. Look man, there’s several reasons why people take cases to trial. It’s not only because you are not guilty, sometimes it’s because if you go to trial there’s a chance you might beat the case. Those paternity tests are not absolute and blood work can come up missing and you can get off. If you get a negative paternity test, you don’t have to go back in there ever again and take another one. In the eyes of the court, the ones who make you pay child support, that baby ain’t yours.
On a more serious note, although I think that Black men should always take full responsibility of their children, I don’t think you should make rash decisions. This may ruffle a few feathers, but I think it’s a good idea that you divorce the idea that a marriage and a kid go hand-in-hand. I mean, you shouldn’t marry a jumpoff just because you got her pregnant. One of my best cats married a jumpoff because he got her pregnant and she was still at the club every weekend after she dropped the nugget. It is not cool to be getting late night texts that say, “Dog your wife is at the club again, drunk as a skunk. I don’t even want to tell you what she’s doing. I’m pretty sure she just wiped the promoter down in the VIP.” If you not cool with her as a woman, then don’t marry her. You can be a great father without being a husband.
Finding out you got the local pit stop pregnant isn’t any way to spend your day, but it happens all the time. These women are out here getting negros every day with that, “I just had my period” swindle. You may fall victim, I would advise you to strap up, but if you already got her pregnant that’s a mute point. Hopefully, everything works out for you.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Self-Pretentious Bloggers Piss Me Off
Thought about what I wanted to say for some time. Realized that sometimes you have to spend hours in deep thought to find the words to say. I’m one of those people who doesn’t get quiet because I don’t have anything to say, but I get quiet because I want to choose my words carefully. That’s why I get so pissed off when I’m misquoted or my words are turned around to mean something they weren’t intended to do. That’s right, I speak with intent.
With that said, the amount of utter malfeasance in the blogworld causes me great pain, no let me be honest, I’m just annoyed. When I got involved I thought that this was the new wave. This was the new Spoken Word. And being one of those who was a great slam poet, I knew this whole thing would sooner or later become competitive. My goal as a writer or blogger, whatever you want to call it, was to speak. To say the things that everyone is thinking, but no one wants to say aloud. I didn’t want to paint a picture for anyone about sex, dating and relationships that was false and void of any real meaning. I can say, Black relationships are perfectly fine, but I wouldn’t be doing what we know on the inside is true. The current state of Black love is not dead or in a hospice, but it is on dialysis. And I’m not just tied to just talking about that, I can talk about so much more and I try to.
I wrote my first eBook and I gave it away for free, because that’s actually the type of person I am. I’m not always trying to make a profit, sometimes I just want you to read. I don’t want to be heralded as the best writer on the streets, tweets or indifferent. Some people who have the most followers on twitter and on their feedburner are actually very wack in real life. Nonetheless, I just wanted to be a part of a movement. And because of my success it is not short of attacks, bad criticism and hate. That’s cool though, it comes with the territory. I don’t beef with other blogs, I’ll sit here and tell you that I show love to all those who show love to me, and even some of those who don’t show love to me.
There are several self-pretentious bloggers out there who spend most of their time speaking over people’s heads. There are some that spend time speaking to their comment section. They won’t say anything that offends the reader because they need that love, that’s something I don’t need. As an artist, I’ve always thought that it was my goal to work on my art and my craft and present that to my readers. People don’t read me to hear a reincarnation of themselves, they read me because they think that I’ve got talent and something to say. I’m not self-pretentious, but I may be a little over confident, that overconfidence leads me to be great. I think that if you have to tell someone you’re great, or you have to tweet, “This might be my greatest work yet,” you really need a hug.
I’m not perfect, and I’m not trying to be. No one ever likes the perfect guy, they want the guy with the flaws and all. I’m a gentleman and I probably have spent too much money on my personal life. But you know what, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take it with me, so I want to spend it now. I’ve said some things I shouldn’t have, but I’ve never regretted it. Realize that I live by one rule, do unto others as you would have done unto you. And that’s how I live.
I don’t brag or boast, but I spend hours upon hours working on projects that aren’t my own. I show support, and I respond to my readers even the smallest ones. I’m not looking for a fight and I’m not willing to argue or exchange in discourse with people who are only intent in proving me wrong. Listen, you don’t have to tell me I’m wrong, I’ve been wrong before and I don’t intend on being right my whole life. And if there are people who search for perfection and I can do anything I try my hardest to support them in their efforts. I don’t want to be perfect, but to each their own. I put people on to opportunities, I’m looking to make everyone around me better, because that’s going to encourage me to be better. I’m not going to sit on great opportunities that I cannot take advantage of. I know my limits and I know when someone actually wants someone with more talent than myself, I yield way.
Let me put it like this, “I did this for us.” I want everybody on stage like Wu Tang. But there are some people who are so caught up in themselves they can’t even see the light, they can’t see how beautiful being a part of the Renaissance can be.
Describe myself in words? Yes, I can do that. Loyal, Integrity, Respect, Love, Honest, Sincere and Genuine. You won’t see any cut cards when it comes to me. Add to that: Original, Daring, Unafraid, Inconsistent, and Dumb. I’ve got so much to learn, but I’m not afraid to throw some shit at the wall and see what sticks.
As ignorant as people think my blogs are, they don’t tell you that one-on-one, I’m one of those guys who sits down and has a conversation with you. I’m not interested in screwing my readers, and I’m not using them to write my next article. I’m willing to help someone in need, however, I can. I support, I support, I freaking support anyone I can, because it’s the right thing to do. I’m allegedly so full of myself that I don’t have time for anyone, but I can find a way to support just about everybody in my network, then it baffles me when someone tells me this about another blogger, “Oh yeah he said he doesn’t read your blog.” I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole with values. I’m a charming man, but I’m a gentleman first. People think that I come off the top of my head with this, but they don’t tell you that I spend tons of my personal time reading everyone else’s blogs, reading books, and talking with people to learn what’s out there. What’s been tried before and what’s worked for someone else. But I don’t need to cite a source when I post an article, all I want you to do is read. If you like it, you do, if you don’t, that’s fine.
So as readers you have to ask yourself who are you going to support? To hell to the guy who has the most followers if that’s what his goals are. Screw you, if you only support yourself, can’t even support anyone else, not even a reply on twitter. Nobody cares that you have an elaborate vocabulary, if no one understands what you’re talking about. Say it straight, and say it plain so that everyone gets the information, which is more important than flexing your vocab pipes. And death be unto the faux-sensitive bloggers who are intentionally trying to make women swoon when in reality they are closet misogynists! I think readers have to figure out what they connect with. I think they have to figure out, if they’re going to continue to listen to someone when they consistently say, “Oh those guys are wack” or “I don’t like his writing, but to each their own.” Real talk, what is your goal behind saying that?
I don’t know man, it’s like I said earlier, the amount of utter malfeasance in the blogworld has gotten out of hand. I’m starting to wonder what the meaning of it all is. I am not seeing anybody who thinks they have truly arrived, so I think before the infighting gets to a point where weapons is drawn, like on the internet where the real thugs are, we should reevaluate these gaudy claims by our fellow comrades in bloggery and how we as writers can be more supportive of one another.
With that said, the amount of utter malfeasance in the blogworld causes me great pain, no let me be honest, I’m just annoyed. When I got involved I thought that this was the new wave. This was the new Spoken Word. And being one of those who was a great slam poet, I knew this whole thing would sooner or later become competitive. My goal as a writer or blogger, whatever you want to call it, was to speak. To say the things that everyone is thinking, but no one wants to say aloud. I didn’t want to paint a picture for anyone about sex, dating and relationships that was false and void of any real meaning. I can say, Black relationships are perfectly fine, but I wouldn’t be doing what we know on the inside is true. The current state of Black love is not dead or in a hospice, but it is on dialysis. And I’m not just tied to just talking about that, I can talk about so much more and I try to.
I wrote my first eBook and I gave it away for free, because that’s actually the type of person I am. I’m not always trying to make a profit, sometimes I just want you to read. I don’t want to be heralded as the best writer on the streets, tweets or indifferent. Some people who have the most followers on twitter and on their feedburner are actually very wack in real life. Nonetheless, I just wanted to be a part of a movement. And because of my success it is not short of attacks, bad criticism and hate. That’s cool though, it comes with the territory. I don’t beef with other blogs, I’ll sit here and tell you that I show love to all those who show love to me, and even some of those who don’t show love to me.
There are several self-pretentious bloggers out there who spend most of their time speaking over people’s heads. There are some that spend time speaking to their comment section. They won’t say anything that offends the reader because they need that love, that’s something I don’t need. As an artist, I’ve always thought that it was my goal to work on my art and my craft and present that to my readers. People don’t read me to hear a reincarnation of themselves, they read me because they think that I’ve got talent and something to say. I’m not self-pretentious, but I may be a little over confident, that overconfidence leads me to be great. I think that if you have to tell someone you’re great, or you have to tweet, “This might be my greatest work yet,” you really need a hug.
I’m not perfect, and I’m not trying to be. No one ever likes the perfect guy, they want the guy with the flaws and all. I’m a gentleman and I probably have spent too much money on my personal life. But you know what, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take it with me, so I want to spend it now. I’ve said some things I shouldn’t have, but I’ve never regretted it. Realize that I live by one rule, do unto others as you would have done unto you. And that’s how I live.
I don’t brag or boast, but I spend hours upon hours working on projects that aren’t my own. I show support, and I respond to my readers even the smallest ones. I’m not looking for a fight and I’m not willing to argue or exchange in discourse with people who are only intent in proving me wrong. Listen, you don’t have to tell me I’m wrong, I’ve been wrong before and I don’t intend on being right my whole life. And if there are people who search for perfection and I can do anything I try my hardest to support them in their efforts. I don’t want to be perfect, but to each their own. I put people on to opportunities, I’m looking to make everyone around me better, because that’s going to encourage me to be better. I’m not going to sit on great opportunities that I cannot take advantage of. I know my limits and I know when someone actually wants someone with more talent than myself, I yield way.
Let me put it like this, “I did this for us.” I want everybody on stage like Wu Tang. But there are some people who are so caught up in themselves they can’t even see the light, they can’t see how beautiful being a part of the Renaissance can be.
Describe myself in words? Yes, I can do that. Loyal, Integrity, Respect, Love, Honest, Sincere and Genuine. You won’t see any cut cards when it comes to me. Add to that: Original, Daring, Unafraid, Inconsistent, and Dumb. I’ve got so much to learn, but I’m not afraid to throw some shit at the wall and see what sticks.
As ignorant as people think my blogs are, they don’t tell you that one-on-one, I’m one of those guys who sits down and has a conversation with you. I’m not interested in screwing my readers, and I’m not using them to write my next article. I’m willing to help someone in need, however, I can. I support, I support, I freaking support anyone I can, because it’s the right thing to do. I’m allegedly so full of myself that I don’t have time for anyone, but I can find a way to support just about everybody in my network, then it baffles me when someone tells me this about another blogger, “Oh yeah he said he doesn’t read your blog.” I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole with values. I’m a charming man, but I’m a gentleman first. People think that I come off the top of my head with this, but they don’t tell you that I spend tons of my personal time reading everyone else’s blogs, reading books, and talking with people to learn what’s out there. What’s been tried before and what’s worked for someone else. But I don’t need to cite a source when I post an article, all I want you to do is read. If you like it, you do, if you don’t, that’s fine.
So as readers you have to ask yourself who are you going to support? To hell to the guy who has the most followers if that’s what his goals are. Screw you, if you only support yourself, can’t even support anyone else, not even a reply on twitter. Nobody cares that you have an elaborate vocabulary, if no one understands what you’re talking about. Say it straight, and say it plain so that everyone gets the information, which is more important than flexing your vocab pipes. And death be unto the faux-sensitive bloggers who are intentionally trying to make women swoon when in reality they are closet misogynists! I think readers have to figure out what they connect with. I think they have to figure out, if they’re going to continue to listen to someone when they consistently say, “Oh those guys are wack” or “I don’t like his writing, but to each their own.” Real talk, what is your goal behind saying that?
I don’t know man, it’s like I said earlier, the amount of utter malfeasance in the blogworld has gotten out of hand. I’m starting to wonder what the meaning of it all is. I am not seeing anybody who thinks they have truly arrived, so I think before the infighting gets to a point where weapons is drawn, like on the internet where the real thugs are, we should reevaluate these gaudy claims by our fellow comrades in bloggery and how we as writers can be more supportive of one another.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Afternoon Mail - 12.15.10
This is one of my favorites, if not most favorite Jay-Z verses of all time. I think that when I read this even today, it summarizes how I feel as a man, frat brother and as a writer. I've never said that I was like Jay-Z, but what was said in this reminds me the most of myself. I faulted Jay-Z at the time because it's in our character that we don't really need to decode ourselves, we should just do it because it needed to be done. However, I understand the things he said in this and I feel him... like for real. In a few days, i'm going to write something here that's going to summarize how I feel about this blogworld these days, in attempts to make it not as lengthy, i'm giving this part now. I left it in the dirty version, you guys know it's a rareity to see the N-word on The Book.
Can't y'all, see that he's fake, the rap version of TD jakes
Prophesizing on your CDs and tapes
Won't break you a crumb of the little bit that he makes
And this is with whom you want to place your faith?
I put dollars on mine, ask Columbine
When the Twin Towers dropped, I was the first in line
Donating proceeds off every ticket sold
When I was out on the road, that's how you judge Hov, no?
Ain't I supposed to be absorbed myself?
Every time there's a tragedy, I'm the first one to help
They call me this misogynist, but they don't call me the dude
To take his dollars to give gifts at the projects
These dudes is all politics, depositing checks
they put in they pocket, all you get in return is a lot of lip
And y'all buy the shit, caught up in the hype
Cause the nigga wear a coofie, it don't mean that he bright
Cause you don't understand him, it don't mean that he nice
It just means you don't understand all the bullshit that he write
Is it "Oochie Wally Wally" or is it "One Mic"?
Is it "Black Girl Lost" or shorty owe you for ice?
I've been real all my life, they confuse it with conceit
Since I will not lose, they try to help him cheat
But I will not lose, for even in defeat
There's a valuable lesson learned, so it evens it up for me
When the grass is cut, the snakes will show
I gotta thank the little homie Nas for that though
Saving me the hassle of speaking to half of these assholes
And I'ma let karma catch up to Jaz-O, whoa
I'm back before you had a chance to miss me
My mama can't save you this time, niggas is history
Who you know flow vicious as me?
Yet so religiously, that's why they call me Hov
I get the spoils cause the victor is me (me, nigga)
You're an actor, you're not who you're depicted to be
The street dreamin, all y'all niggas living through me
I gave you life when niggas was forgetting you emcee
I'm a legend, you should take a picture with me
You should be happy to be in my presence, I should charge you a fee
I'm Big Dog, Glenn Rob, listen God you a flea
And the little homey Jungle is a garden to me
What's the problem B? You not as hard as me
Nigga hard as we, nigga R O C, nigga
That's why they follow me, they feel my pain and my agony, nigga
I won't rest till you on one knee
You want war then it's war's gonna be, nigga
Until you on one knee, you want war then it's war's gonna be, nigga
(Source: Jay-Z - Blueprint 2)
Can't y'all, see that he's fake, the rap version of TD jakes
Prophesizing on your CDs and tapes
Won't break you a crumb of the little bit that he makes
And this is with whom you want to place your faith?
I put dollars on mine, ask Columbine
When the Twin Towers dropped, I was the first in line
Donating proceeds off every ticket sold
When I was out on the road, that's how you judge Hov, no?
Ain't I supposed to be absorbed myself?
Every time there's a tragedy, I'm the first one to help
They call me this misogynist, but they don't call me the dude
To take his dollars to give gifts at the projects
These dudes is all politics, depositing checks
they put in they pocket, all you get in return is a lot of lip
And y'all buy the shit, caught up in the hype
Cause the nigga wear a coofie, it don't mean that he bright
Cause you don't understand him, it don't mean that he nice
It just means you don't understand all the bullshit that he write
Is it "Oochie Wally Wally" or is it "One Mic"?
Is it "Black Girl Lost" or shorty owe you for ice?
I've been real all my life, they confuse it with conceit
Since I will not lose, they try to help him cheat
But I will not lose, for even in defeat
There's a valuable lesson learned, so it evens it up for me
When the grass is cut, the snakes will show
I gotta thank the little homie Nas for that though
Saving me the hassle of speaking to half of these assholes
And I'ma let karma catch up to Jaz-O, whoa
I'm back before you had a chance to miss me
My mama can't save you this time, niggas is history
Who you know flow vicious as me?
Yet so religiously, that's why they call me Hov
I get the spoils cause the victor is me (me, nigga)
You're an actor, you're not who you're depicted to be
The street dreamin, all y'all niggas living through me
I gave you life when niggas was forgetting you emcee
I'm a legend, you should take a picture with me
You should be happy to be in my presence, I should charge you a fee
I'm Big Dog, Glenn Rob, listen God you a flea
And the little homey Jungle is a garden to me
What's the problem B? You not as hard as me
Nigga hard as we, nigga R O C, nigga
That's why they follow me, they feel my pain and my agony, nigga
I won't rest till you on one knee
You want war then it's war's gonna be, nigga
Until you on one knee, you want war then it's war's gonna be, nigga
(Source: Jay-Z - Blueprint 2)
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Pencil Skirts: Hate 'em or Love 'em by Dr. J
I’m not concerned with when I’m going out on the town, I’m probably not going to get fooled by too many pencil skirts. There’s going to be some authentic pencil skirt wearers in there, so a girl looking to trick a guy into thinking she’s got super long legs and a fatty are slim. Let it be known that a woman should use her pencil skirt as an accent, but not as a concealer.
Check the rest out here.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Morning Mail – 12.8.10
Connor Mead: Love is magic comfort food for the weak and uneducated!
(Source: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past)
Most women grow up watching their mothers. And many daughters hate their mothers because they are dependent on men. It’s like they had to go to Daddy for everything, and if it wasn’t Daddy, it was a boyfriend or something. I thought about this because when I hear a woman who hates this quality about their mother, a lot of times they are the same women who can never be single.
And when I say, single, I mean, not having sex with any man. No contact with any man. None, absolutely single.
They bounce from situation to situation. They just never can sit still long enough to learn how not to have a man in their life. In college, I explained how women got turned out so much, because it only takes a 17-year old male ten minutes to figure out that if he messes with shorty for a couple weeks, and has a big argument, at the next party, she’s still looking for a hook up buddy, she’ll be hooking up with another dude soon. So then you have to ask yourself, why is it that you can’t just be alone?
That’s the same thing that you despised in your mother, but you thought she was dependent on men because she always went to them for something she needed. The same thing is when you need companionship, or you need to always have know that you have a man you can call on, if needed. I think that the greatest thing that ever happened to me in my life was when I got out of a relationship and told myself that I wanted to be absolutely alone. I didn’t want anyone to flirt with, talk to, mess with, sleep with, nothing. I wanted to learn how to love me, so much to the point, where I didn’t need anyone else in my life.
I recommend that to every woman I’ve ever been a life coach to. Please learn to love yourself, so much that you can be happy alone. Be real with yourself, when you say, “I don’t need a man to do nothing for me,” but you know that deep down on the inside if you were to text some tonight and not get a response from any of them, you’d be upset, then you do need a man to do something for you. Come to grip with that and then deal with the issue. Get to the point, when you are alone and it’s late at night, you can sleep, without needing to text someone to give you any attention. That way you aren’t dependent on men. This ain’t no Suzie Orman advice, this is real talk, stuff your mother should have told you, but she didn’t know any better.
(Source: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past)
Most women grow up watching their mothers. And many daughters hate their mothers because they are dependent on men. It’s like they had to go to Daddy for everything, and if it wasn’t Daddy, it was a boyfriend or something. I thought about this because when I hear a woman who hates this quality about their mother, a lot of times they are the same women who can never be single.
And when I say, single, I mean, not having sex with any man. No contact with any man. None, absolutely single.
They bounce from situation to situation. They just never can sit still long enough to learn how not to have a man in their life. In college, I explained how women got turned out so much, because it only takes a 17-year old male ten minutes to figure out that if he messes with shorty for a couple weeks, and has a big argument, at the next party, she’s still looking for a hook up buddy, she’ll be hooking up with another dude soon. So then you have to ask yourself, why is it that you can’t just be alone?
That’s the same thing that you despised in your mother, but you thought she was dependent on men because she always went to them for something she needed. The same thing is when you need companionship, or you need to always have know that you have a man you can call on, if needed. I think that the greatest thing that ever happened to me in my life was when I got out of a relationship and told myself that I wanted to be absolutely alone. I didn’t want anyone to flirt with, talk to, mess with, sleep with, nothing. I wanted to learn how to love me, so much to the point, where I didn’t need anyone else in my life.
I recommend that to every woman I’ve ever been a life coach to. Please learn to love yourself, so much that you can be happy alone. Be real with yourself, when you say, “I don’t need a man to do nothing for me,” but you know that deep down on the inside if you were to text some tonight and not get a response from any of them, you’d be upset, then you do need a man to do something for you. Come to grip with that and then deal with the issue. Get to the point, when you are alone and it’s late at night, you can sleep, without needing to text someone to give you any attention. That way you aren’t dependent on men. This ain’t no Suzie Orman advice, this is real talk, stuff your mother should have told you, but she didn’t know any better.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Morning Mail – 12.6.10
[Norah Jones]
Baby, take off your cool
I wanna see you, I wanna see you
Baby, don't be so cool
I wanna see you, I wanna see you
[Andre 3000]
Baby, take off your cool
I want to get to know you
(Take off your cool)
(Source: Take Off Your Cool, from the movie, Idlewild)
Yesterday, we had a conversation in which a group of men discussed the rating system of women. I have my own system which is on a scale of 100, but that’s neither here nor there. We were trying to explain the system of 1-10. It was my opinion that, a 10 is perfection, and you can’t over do it with that label. Also, we must assume that we are not going to take personality or traits outside of looks into consideration. However, we will consider mass appeal. For example, Angelina Jolie ain’t the prettiest woman, but she’s sexy as hell. For me, the 10 can only go to Eva Mendes right now. That’s it.
So someone asked me about a chick and I said she was a 5. The entire room started to laugh because she’s a nice girl, she’s very sweet, she’s not unattractive, but 5 sounds so bad. I told the room, “listen 5 is not bad, it’s just that we have to have some rhyme or reason for why we give out ratings.” So this was my point…
If a 10 is perfection and Eva Mendes is a 10. We said, that Halle would be considered a 10, but just off the strength that she’s getting older, she’s like a 9.8 right now. We then said that a 9 would have to be Beyonce, Shakira, and Paula Patton. These are women who are bad as hell, everyone knows it. And if you say that the chick is not pretty, it’s usually because you are a hater. Which is very different than an 8. Like an 8 can be one man’s 9 and another man’s 6. We used Gabrielle Union for an example, personally, I just don’t find Gabrielle Union that attractive, but I know she’s attractive so she’s an 8. But then another example is Lauren London. She’s an 8, but in my book, that is my type to the T. However, some people don’t think she’s THAT attractive, and also she suffers from the opposite of mass appeal, that Weezy thing just dropped her stock. Now when you think about the fact that Lauren London is an 8, and perfection is a 10.
6 and 7 are not only serviceable women, but they’re cute and any dude with a chick that’s a 6 on his arm, is not mad at himself… he’s not mad at all. In fact, there’s probably several dudes trying to get at that chick.
Sharon Leal… (Why Did I Get Married? Tyler’s wife.) definitely a solid 6 at best. But if that was your girl, there ain’t gonna be no one in the world mad at you, in fact, people will say, man she’s bad as hell. A 6 can put herself together in a way that can change your morals.
So that brings me to my final point about a 5. A 5 is a good girl, she’s just not the type that’s going to jump out at you. She’s never going to be the prettiest girl in the room, unless there are just a lot of UGLY girls in that same room. However, she’s the middle of the pack. If a 10 was Louis XIII, then she’s a Corona. Like, there’s nothing wrong with that though. A Corona is sexy as shit. There’s nothing wrong with never being the prettiest girl in the room. Sure it sounds bad, but in reality what does it mean? When you’re driving on the highway and you see a Bentley or a Maserati, you know those are like the highest of high end cars on the road, but you may just want to push a Toyota Camry, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Real talk, some women just need to come to grips with reality. I could wish that I was Idris Elba, but it ain’t gonna happen. I could wish that I was Boris Kodjoe, but it ain’t gonna happen. I’m me. I’m not saying I’m a 5 though, we all know that’s not true. What I’m saying is, sometimes I think we get too far ahead of ourselves thinking that everyone needs to be a dime, and it’s just unrealistic. I still think that girl is a 5, and I think she’s a nice girl, and would make a very good mother and wife.
This conversation went from twenty minutes to three hours when we added in personality, reputation and things like a fat ass.
PS - Could you wife down a chick who was involved in a train before, EVEN if that was in college?
Baby, take off your cool
I wanna see you, I wanna see you
Baby, don't be so cool
I wanna see you, I wanna see you
[Andre 3000]
Baby, take off your cool
I want to get to know you
(Take off your cool)
(Source: Take Off Your Cool, from the movie, Idlewild)
Yesterday, we had a conversation in which a group of men discussed the rating system of women. I have my own system which is on a scale of 100, but that’s neither here nor there. We were trying to explain the system of 1-10. It was my opinion that, a 10 is perfection, and you can’t over do it with that label. Also, we must assume that we are not going to take personality or traits outside of looks into consideration. However, we will consider mass appeal. For example, Angelina Jolie ain’t the prettiest woman, but she’s sexy as hell. For me, the 10 can only go to Eva Mendes right now. That’s it.
So someone asked me about a chick and I said she was a 5. The entire room started to laugh because she’s a nice girl, she’s very sweet, she’s not unattractive, but 5 sounds so bad. I told the room, “listen 5 is not bad, it’s just that we have to have some rhyme or reason for why we give out ratings.” So this was my point…
If a 10 is perfection and Eva Mendes is a 10. We said, that Halle would be considered a 10, but just off the strength that she’s getting older, she’s like a 9.8 right now. We then said that a 9 would have to be Beyonce, Shakira, and Paula Patton. These are women who are bad as hell, everyone knows it. And if you say that the chick is not pretty, it’s usually because you are a hater. Which is very different than an 8. Like an 8 can be one man’s 9 and another man’s 6. We used Gabrielle Union for an example, personally, I just don’t find Gabrielle Union that attractive, but I know she’s attractive so she’s an 8. But then another example is Lauren London. She’s an 8, but in my book, that is my type to the T. However, some people don’t think she’s THAT attractive, and also she suffers from the opposite of mass appeal, that Weezy thing just dropped her stock. Now when you think about the fact that Lauren London is an 8, and perfection is a 10.
6 and 7 are not only serviceable women, but they’re cute and any dude with a chick that’s a 6 on his arm, is not mad at himself… he’s not mad at all. In fact, there’s probably several dudes trying to get at that chick.
Sharon Leal… (Why Did I Get Married? Tyler’s wife.) definitely a solid 6 at best. But if that was your girl, there ain’t gonna be no one in the world mad at you, in fact, people will say, man she’s bad as hell. A 6 can put herself together in a way that can change your morals.
So that brings me to my final point about a 5. A 5 is a good girl, she’s just not the type that’s going to jump out at you. She’s never going to be the prettiest girl in the room, unless there are just a lot of UGLY girls in that same room. However, she’s the middle of the pack. If a 10 was Louis XIII, then she’s a Corona. Like, there’s nothing wrong with that though. A Corona is sexy as shit. There’s nothing wrong with never being the prettiest girl in the room. Sure it sounds bad, but in reality what does it mean? When you’re driving on the highway and you see a Bentley or a Maserati, you know those are like the highest of high end cars on the road, but you may just want to push a Toyota Camry, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Real talk, some women just need to come to grips with reality. I could wish that I was Idris Elba, but it ain’t gonna happen. I could wish that I was Boris Kodjoe, but it ain’t gonna happen. I’m me. I’m not saying I’m a 5 though, we all know that’s not true. What I’m saying is, sometimes I think we get too far ahead of ourselves thinking that everyone needs to be a dime, and it’s just unrealistic. I still think that girl is a 5, and I think she’s a nice girl, and would make a very good mother and wife.
This conversation went from twenty minutes to three hours when we added in personality, reputation and things like a fat ass.
PS - Could you wife down a chick who was involved in a train before, EVEN if that was in college?
Friday, December 3, 2010
VIP Used to Mean Something
There are a lot of things about Black people that bothers me, but most things about Black people really makes me happy I’m Black. We’re the most ignorant self-pretentious individuals on the planet. I mean, where else can you find a bunch of people who show up at the club in five piece suits, order bottle service, and then by 2:45AM… GO HARD IN THE MUTHAF*CKIN PAINT! Have you ever seen that dude in the slacks, hard soled shoes, wife beater and a tie around his non-collared neck? That’s my man 50-grand. And yes, I’ve done that before, as a matter of fact, I was sleep in the club, but I had a good ass time.
Someone asked me one time, “Jay, why do you waste so much money on bottles in the club?” Now, in 2010, I shrug them off. I really don’t have a good reason, but back in the day, I gave a perfectly good reason, “The club is packed and I can’t enjoy myself. I pay a premium for space, the ability to get a drink when I want it, personal share of ice and mixers, and a place for my guests to interact without the foolishness.” Sounded good right? A few months later, someone told me, “It’s a shame you pay $120 for that Moet.” I was like, “No it’s not, and popped three more bottles.” The manager of that fine institution pulled me aside and said, “He’s wrong, that bottle of Moet costs $30, those hoes cost $90.” Those were the realest words ever spoken.
But nowadays, what does it mean to be VIP in a club? Did they really convince you to buy a $40 ticket instead of a $20 ticket so you could skip the line? Is that VIP? Love Nightclub in DC used to be the dumbest establishment for negros on the East Coast, they invented this system: The Free Pass or List line, The $20 line, The $40 short line, and the $60 Walk Straight In line. People, namely me, would seriously say out there mouth, “I’m going to valet my whip, drop the $60 and walk straight in.” Not for nothing, that costs about $80-100, provided you ain’t have no women with you. Those guys at the door had a knack for knowing that you wasn’t going to send your women to the $20 line, you would pay for them too. There was no politicking at the door.
What would you expect VIP to look like? Maybe it’s own private room, full of scantly clad women, the best of the best, free of freeloading dudes you don’t know, maybe a mirror and an ice sculpture just for effect? At least some strippers...
Hell no.
VIP is a roped off section on the dance floor, and if you’re lucky a big dude in the Black to keep ignorant Wacka Flacka wannabes from walking in. That’s if you’re lucky. If you’re a VIP why don’t they already have your table set up when you get there? Have you ever been moved around several times, because someone more VIP than you decided to come out? That blows. I’m sorry that happened to you. I was once a part of this exchange.
Manager: I gotta move you guys.
Me: But we bought all these tables.
Manager: I’m sorry, but he reserved it.
Me: But we bought like seven tables!
Manager: He has a Black card.
Me: ALRIGHT Y’ALL WE GOTTA MOVE!
They give you some bottle girl who is attractive, but don’t get it twisted she’s screwing the manager or owner of the club. I don’t know this to be fact, but I know that she’s not screwing me, and I’m currently paying her tuition. You mean to tell me that I’m about to give you a $600 tip, but I can’t take you out to eat? Ah, that’s right, because I’m a VIP. Don’t let her fool you broseph, you will get her number, but it will be only so you can work through her the next time you come to the club.
And the worst part about this entire operation is that you don’t get your drink any faster! I can’t count how many times I’ve had to go find my hostess to order another bottle. Or even if she comes right back she brings back the wrong bottle. My birthday party in Atlantic City a few years back, I order three more bottles of Moet… this heffer came back with Dom P. I had to throw a couch at my homegirls to make sure they didn’t open it. “Wait a mofo’ing minute! I said Moet Nectar Imperial, I’m drunk, but I can read, this is Dom P, and that’s not what I ordered!” (Look man, I was turning 22, I didn’t have it like that.)
The next time someone offers you VIP tickets give them the finger. No, really give them the finger and tell them you’d like your phone call. VIP these days means absolutely nothing. They don’t treat you like a VIP, they treat you like a high paying customer. They milk you like a cat. You get filed into your spot so that everyone in the club can look at you and your party and think to themselves, “Them guys are about to get got.” Negative chicks are looking at you like, “They think they doing something.” (Funny, those negative chicks be the same ones who ain’t doing nothing.) Gold diggng, I mean, Party girls are looking at you like, “Girl, turn around so he can see your booty, we about to get free drinks and a trip to the Diner.”
To me, if you are VIP, you should at least get comped. If I’m important to your establishment I shouldn’t have to pay. Valet should be free. And you should seek out chicks and bring them back to me. Honestly, think Rehab. Your party host will go and find people to bring to your party to make it popping. But outside of that, no way Jose. These club owners, promoters, and hostesses use VIP to mean Very Important Phool.
OK, I’m done with my venting, will be getting tables tonight somewhere. I’ll holla.
Someone asked me one time, “Jay, why do you waste so much money on bottles in the club?” Now, in 2010, I shrug them off. I really don’t have a good reason, but back in the day, I gave a perfectly good reason, “The club is packed and I can’t enjoy myself. I pay a premium for space, the ability to get a drink when I want it, personal share of ice and mixers, and a place for my guests to interact without the foolishness.” Sounded good right? A few months later, someone told me, “It’s a shame you pay $120 for that Moet.” I was like, “No it’s not, and popped three more bottles.” The manager of that fine institution pulled me aside and said, “He’s wrong, that bottle of Moet costs $30, those hoes cost $90.” Those were the realest words ever spoken.
But nowadays, what does it mean to be VIP in a club? Did they really convince you to buy a $40 ticket instead of a $20 ticket so you could skip the line? Is that VIP? Love Nightclub in DC used to be the dumbest establishment for negros on the East Coast, they invented this system: The Free Pass or List line, The $20 line, The $40 short line, and the $60 Walk Straight In line. People, namely me, would seriously say out there mouth, “I’m going to valet my whip, drop the $60 and walk straight in.” Not for nothing, that costs about $80-100, provided you ain’t have no women with you. Those guys at the door had a knack for knowing that you wasn’t going to send your women to the $20 line, you would pay for them too. There was no politicking at the door.
What would you expect VIP to look like? Maybe it’s own private room, full of scantly clad women, the best of the best, free of freeloading dudes you don’t know, maybe a mirror and an ice sculpture just for effect? At least some strippers...
Hell no.
VIP is a roped off section on the dance floor, and if you’re lucky a big dude in the Black to keep ignorant Wacka Flacka wannabes from walking in. That’s if you’re lucky. If you’re a VIP why don’t they already have your table set up when you get there? Have you ever been moved around several times, because someone more VIP than you decided to come out? That blows. I’m sorry that happened to you. I was once a part of this exchange.
Manager: I gotta move you guys.
Me: But we bought all these tables.
Manager: I’m sorry, but he reserved it.
Me: But we bought like seven tables!
Manager: He has a Black card.
Me: ALRIGHT Y’ALL WE GOTTA MOVE!
They give you some bottle girl who is attractive, but don’t get it twisted she’s screwing the manager or owner of the club. I don’t know this to be fact, but I know that she’s not screwing me, and I’m currently paying her tuition. You mean to tell me that I’m about to give you a $600 tip, but I can’t take you out to eat? Ah, that’s right, because I’m a VIP. Don’t let her fool you broseph, you will get her number, but it will be only so you can work through her the next time you come to the club.
And the worst part about this entire operation is that you don’t get your drink any faster! I can’t count how many times I’ve had to go find my hostess to order another bottle. Or even if she comes right back she brings back the wrong bottle. My birthday party in Atlantic City a few years back, I order three more bottles of Moet… this heffer came back with Dom P. I had to throw a couch at my homegirls to make sure they didn’t open it. “Wait a mofo’ing minute! I said Moet Nectar Imperial, I’m drunk, but I can read, this is Dom P, and that’s not what I ordered!” (Look man, I was turning 22, I didn’t have it like that.)
The next time someone offers you VIP tickets give them the finger. No, really give them the finger and tell them you’d like your phone call. VIP these days means absolutely nothing. They don’t treat you like a VIP, they treat you like a high paying customer. They milk you like a cat. You get filed into your spot so that everyone in the club can look at you and your party and think to themselves, “Them guys are about to get got.” Negative chicks are looking at you like, “They think they doing something.” (Funny, those negative chicks be the same ones who ain’t doing nothing.) Gold diggng, I mean, Party girls are looking at you like, “Girl, turn around so he can see your booty, we about to get free drinks and a trip to the Diner.”
To me, if you are VIP, you should at least get comped. If I’m important to your establishment I shouldn’t have to pay. Valet should be free. And you should seek out chicks and bring them back to me. Honestly, think Rehab. Your party host will go and find people to bring to your party to make it popping. But outside of that, no way Jose. These club owners, promoters, and hostesses use VIP to mean Very Important Phool.
OK, I’m done with my venting, will be getting tables tonight somewhere. I’ll holla.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Big Bro: Congrats to Streetz aka Roscoe Dash
Every now and then I reflect on the blog game and reasons why I’m happy to be a part of it. I think about those around me who inspire me to be better and those who I learn from the most. It is not without extensive research and community of sex & relationship bloggers that I am able to be Dr. J. It’s a team, Type Ill Blog Fam and J Money Entertainment. My camp in particular exists of myself, my mentor, writing coach, editor, PA and several friends who take the time to read and give me feedback all the time. I’m convinced that when we make it big, we will all be there together to accept the awards and sign the big deals. But today, I wanted to shout out one person in particular, my big brother Streetz.
I’ll be honest with you if it wasn’t for Streetz I probably wouldn’t be blogging, I’d still be dropping an occasional facebook note and wouldn’t have interacted with several of you. It was a while back when Streetz suggested that instead of just posting the Facebook stories every so often, that I start a blog. I would comment on his site and read his daily, but I didn’t think anyone would read my blog. I look at the blog now and I wonder, “damn people really come and read my site.” About 6,000 visitors a month visit my personal blog. Maybe if I had trusted Big Bro earlier I would be at 10,000 by now.
Streetz blogged, so I blogged, he said SBM was looking for writers, so I did it too. I often times never asked questions, didn’t really give my thoughts. Anyone who knows me from my early blogging days … about a year ago, lol, it hasn’t been that long, knows how naïve I was. I found out maybe 4 months ago that there were blogs about other things outside of sex & relationships that were very successful. I just went to Big Bro with the idea and posted it on SBM or the Book. Back in the early days it was always a conversation with Big Bro about what he thought about the article idea and the points. Took a long time for me to be comofrotable posting something and just going with it. So, now it’s basically give and go.
But as I look back it’s always been like that from the time, I was an interest at Philly Greek, until the time I became an Alpha. One of the first things I remember was going to seeing the A-Team on stage stepping and strolling through the crowds and Streetz was right there leading the crowds. That’s the type of Alpha I wanted to be. He was stepping, so I decided I should step. And if I might add, I was damn good at it. I understood that the show was the key. As Stepmaster I won the step competition for the first time in years. He was a standout in NYACOA, so I needed to be a standout in NYACOA. His opinion has always been very important to me. And so I went to him, sometimes when he didn’t even know it, to get wisdom and guidance. (Then I’d pass it off like I came up with it myself, lol.)
So you know I felt the need to write this, because the internet is filled with so many self-pretentious jerks. They won’t tell you that they look up to another dude out here. Even though they might and do. I yield way to Big Bro at any time. We’re both hungry, and he’s never hindered me from doing anything only encouraged me to do better. I respect that about the relationship, fraternal and otherwise. I figured I should put that out there sooner or later. Like Kanye said, “people never get the roses while they can still smell them.”
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