your standards are too damn high…

ladies and gentlemen, hugs are in order…and there’s no one i know that’s better at hug mediation than the homie the honorable mr. jimmy mcmillan, mayoral candidate from the “the rent is too damn high” party in new york city…when mr. mcmillan is not accessing the altitude of the rent, he is also  a relationship expert…during  a recent alcohol induced blackout conversation with jimmy mac, he relayed to me some insightful information about some of the goings on in this here dating life we live…apparently some of y’all are out there shooting outside of your range…riveting stuff…ladies and gentlemen…mr. jimmy mcmillan on your standards…

– ladies are out here saying they want a man with good credit when they need a co-signer to place an order at ihop…your standards are too damn high…

– guys are running around saying they want to marry a good christian woman but haven’t seen the inside of a church since the last episode of “amen”…your standards are too damn high…

– ladies want a man with a six pack but you’re walking around here looking like you just shoplifted a watermelon…your standards are too damn high… Read more of this post

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when the hunter get’s caught by the game…

*****Warning: The posting below is not for known crazy women. If you tend to be called crazy on a regular basis, please stop reading this.  Why? Because in this post, I was already pushing it. I can’t imagine how crazy people would proceed.*****

Sometimes, I struggle with how much of myself I should put out there on the “interwebs” as Onetrik so lovingly calls this crazy world wide universe. UBF is all about entertainment though, so in the end…if I can accomplish that in some way, I win.

So the other day, Elrock schooled us on how to “hold on to your man” and help him fight the urge to find greener pastures. Pffft. Thanks for the tips. Now excuse me while I stick my tongue down my throat try not to laugh. The fact of the matter is, there is no formula. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but there isn’t. Granted, there are ways to assist in making some one decide he’d rather screw some one else he doesn’t like you anymore, but again- if the formula was simple,  nobody would read half the things we write to begin with. Read more of this post

hush little baby don’t say a word…

No really stop talking.

This time I’m not even referring to your consistent nagging chatter during the Laker’s game but I do reserve the right to come back and address that issue one day. Instead ladies I’m referencing the high usage of your fancy vocabulary with regards to that gentleman you are hoping to beat into submission convince that you are the one he will share Outback’s delicious bread with for ever and ever and ever.

Now before we get started, unfurrow your brow. It gives you wrinkles. Read more of this post

you think you know…but you have no idea…

over the weekend i was previewing the new miley cyrus album catching up on my blog perusal list and i came across our arch nemesis “for single girls” who seems to be hell bent on erasing all of the thorough dating advice we’ve been thrusting about the interwebs…in this particular post, she took offense to men providing advice on how to keep your own man from straying…which then led me to taking a offense to that…it quickly turned into a good ole fashioned take offense fest…i firmly believe that getting advice on how to get/keep/treat a man from a woman without one is like depending on jon kitna as your 2nd string qb asking lebron to put in your 2 week notice for you…it’s guaranteed to screw up your old situation and possible future situations and everyone will hate you…even your friends in relationships probably don’t really know how they trapped landed mr. right…

although i do agree that there is absolutely nothing you can do short of locking your mate in the trunk of a pre 1992 buick lesabre to prevent a mate that is actively searching for secondary action from cheating, i would definitely suggest that there are things you can do to turn that possible cheating pilot episode into a  full fledged syndicated occurrence… Read more of this post

how does it feel…

One of my all time favorite ghetto ladies’ anthems is “Fakin it” by K. Michelle. For those that are unfamiliar, some of the lyrics include catchy diddy’s such as “He’s so bad, i hate to see him commin, but i be frontin, makin he think he something…”

By now you should know where I am going with this but just in case you are slow haven’t figured it out yet: Boys, I have some bad news for you. We fake it. A lot. Now before you say “Not my girl!”, I’m going to tell you a few things. 1) Yes, your girl fakes it.  2) Your jump offs do, too. 3)This doesn’t necessarily mean you are bad (although you might be) .

I’m not going to get into a biology lesson with you because frankly, that’s boring. But in short, we aren’t made the same way. Our magic button doesn’t always cooperate even if pushed the right way by the right person. Some days, we may be stressed out, still recovering from last time tired, or just not in the mindset for it. Sometimes, we know it’s going to take too long and we are giving you a break by making you think it happened sooner rather than later. There are moments where we are Sooo Close, but no cigar. Not your fault. A near miss. (And those moments are really disappointing.) Then there are those times where it’s just not going to happen no matter what you do for no particular reason at all.  And finally, some of you really are like the dude Ms. Michelle references and you need to take a few lessons on rubbing the genie the right way. Read more of this post

baby got back…

*****This post is in honor of National Ass Day…which was yesterday…which also happens to be Kim Kardashian and Amber Rose’s shared birthday.*****

“I like big butts and I can not lie…”

This gem of a song just so happened to be on the first album (actually was a tape for those of you from the iPod generation) I ever purchased back in ‘92. At the time, I thought I was simply getting over on unsuspecting mama onetrik for not quite noticing that hater parental advisory sticker in the bottom right corner. Don’t judge her as I was manipulative adorable back then too. Little did I know, that song would go on to create a life long condition I have been afflicted with.

I am a derriere connoisseur…a booty man in less French terms. Read more of this post

inquiring minds want to know…

a while back the homie shineygreen stopped through and dropped off a large parcel of knowledge…and although i found it quite entertaining, there were still a few questions that went unanswered…we have since brought in our own in house expert to address such issues and make pancakes…given the recent problems caused by the latter, we’ve decided to give her the day off to attend a cast iron skillet care class…in her absence, we’ve decided to bring forward some more things that women do that we still don’t quite understand…

most of these are true about every female on the planet slight generalizations, but we thought that by throwing them out to the masses, we may be able to glean a little extra knowledge about how to score easier the female brain works…release the list… Read more of this post

how do you want it…

One of my valued male comrades sent me this link to a video, and while funny, I admit he said I was just like this it hit a little too close to home.  For those that are too lazy do not have time to read this blog AND watch the video, the basic premise is that as women, we have an entire list of characteristics we seek in a man that often completely contradict each other.  A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my QB acting a fool. Now I will tell you exactly what he did.

I promised him that he would not make an appearance in my blog, but I lied I am making an exception to reveal my own fallibility as a woman. Read this carefully as I will never admit to such a thing ever again. My somewhat significant other and I were spending a lovely morning together in which I decided to make breakfast. I stupidly asked him what he wanted. He said pancakes and eggs. Pancakes? Now – in my mind that was faux pas number one. What kind of man asks for pancakes for breakfast when you just made him dinner the night before?!? Read more of this post

where babies come from…

Based on my twitter feed extensive research, some ladies (and a few fellows) are not quite clear on how kids are made and therefore making the mistake of engaging in horizontal calisthenics with douchebags less than desirable gene donors. In essence, they are playing contraceptive craps…or crabs depending on the partner…and then getting their feelings hurt when they roll 7 and find their return on the bet to be less than optimal.

While we may live in a world where getting your Cromartie on feels better 99.9% doesn’t equal every time, it would be my assumption that there is a bigger issue at play here. As an adult…read as someone who no longer lives with the parentals and is responsible for feeding themselves for 2 out of 3 daily meals…why on earth would you trade DNA with someone in the bottom 50th percentile? If you even have a small feeling that the person A) attended the Britney Spears’ school of parenting; B) perpetually keeps on sneakers to run from any situation that would require any responsibility lasting longer than 7 minutes; C) has any characteristic that evolution has yet to eradicate you’d regret passing on to your children; D) All of the above, you should do your best AC Green impression.

But for the sake of a blog post argument, let us consider what could possibly be going through your head: Read more of this post

and the winner is…

for those keeping count at home, the score is now women 2 – men 1…or something like that…but ladies, before you all go off to have your celebratory gold digging exploration sponsored eyebrow threading…i have some bad news for you…onetrik was right…

but fellows, before you head off to make it rain gold bullion on the head of wine and dine lady #48, i must inform you that lolita was swimming in the pond of truth as well…that look of bewilderment leads me to believe that you

a) are currently enjoying a plate of boston market and wondering how the juice you just licked from your fingers could taste just as good if not better than the chicken itself or…

b) don’t understand how the battle of the sexes could possibly have 2 winners… Read more of this post