it’s break-up season…

let's trim this relationsh...er...hedge...

memorial day weekend is in our rear view mirror, marking the unofficial start of summer, which in some circles is known as the season for change…cool turns to hot and…uh…umm…ok well maybe calling it the season for change was a bit of an overstatement…no wait…there is at least one other thing that often changes with the temperature and that is your relationship status on the book of 600 million faces…make that 599,999,999 faces because our guy d. g. still refuses to upload a photo…

studies show…if u can make it to july with a strong ‘it’s complicated’ consider yourself lucky…because in the coming weeks, your facebook timeline will probably be filled with several broken heart symbols that make these profile separations official…

some might suggest that the summertime mate removal phenomenon happens purely by chance and i might call these people cute and naive…the ubf staff believes that these changes are the byproducts of some of those things that are only produced in the year’s warmest months…

to talk a little further about that, i’d like to turn it over to our friend the list to outline why april showers bring may…disappointment… Read more of this post

when you know you know…

“How did you know he/she was the one?” It’s a question that comes up every time anyone gets engaged. And the inevitable answer? “When you know, you know.”  (I’m waiting to hear Ms. Kardashian soon to be Humphries repeat this very phrase in her next interview…so I can sue her for…something.) What does that mean? Are we to believe that in the land of a 50% divorce success rate (and growing) that people really just magically fall into the perfect person and immediately recognize it? That one day you will be cruising down 5th avenue and see your future boonopolis in happily never after across the street and just know?

Or then there is the “He is different from any other man I’ve ever known.” This one always sounded the most ridiculous to me because…well…not to make an overarching statement…but… well, yeah I’ll go ahead and generalize for kicks…Most men are more alike than different.  Read more of this post

I think I want to marry you…

By now you have no doubt heard the news that Kris Humphries has taken one for the team and offered up his free to smash lifestyle as a professional athlete in exchange for the championship inducing cakes of one Kim Kardashian. Congrats to your 2012 NBA Champion Brooklyn…err…New Jersey Nets…

After a whopping six months of front row seat loss viewing, paparazzi dodging and endless vacationing, the couple is now engaged and headed to be joined in happily until-you-bore-me-to-death matrimony…moment of silence for those of you still holding on to your ‘Kim K’s boo’ raffle tickets. Now I’m not here to say they won’t work out long term, but I wouldn’t run out and buy those new Humphries-Kardashian Nets’ jerseys (however you may want to store his name away as it will probably resurface as a double jeopardy clue in about 5-7 years). I’m also not going to touch on the whole you can’t turn a morally loose jezebel into an upstanding housewife not found on VH1…as I’m sure more righteous bloggers will beat the weave off of that horse…

However, their rather quick transition from strangers to fiancés led me to wonder what would cause me to lose my mind and recognize ‘miss right now’ was actually worthy of losing the ‘now’ before a season of American Idol crowns a champion… Read more of this post

guys’ guys…pause…

over the last few weeks, i’ve been enjoying what we like to call funemployment…there’s a paycheck en route and a mad men blu ray disc in the ps3…i’m in the middle of season 3 so shhh with any comments referencing anything that happened after the birth of the 3rd shorty…

while watching the antics of don draper i kept thinking that if my single man dreams ever started showing as much churn as his real fictional married life, i would have to stop taking naps…because they would only lead to additional naps…and somebody’s got to make these damn donuts…

after marveling at mr. draper’s exploits, i also realized that he was probably the type of unfaithful married wife smashing dude you would want in your crew…the type that shares flight attendants and never blows up your spot…this led me to wonder who else i might invite to join the ultimate crew…ladies and gentlemen, the guys’ guys…with the obligatory “pause” of course… Read more of this post

dem male friends…strike again…

When a woman says she doesn’t have any female friends, many things are assumed about her. Most of them negative. There is a tendency to judge females that can’t seem to stay out of the meow mix of catty drama, thus relegating themselves to have their wounds incessantly licked by the opposite sex.  It really does say something about her- the inability to fraternize with your own people makes you an outcast. That’s never a good look.

However, there are many some women who have many female friends. And just as many male friends to match.  But it’s never a good sign when the QB says to you, “Babe you got a lot of male friends…” That said, I some women just like to be friends with everybody.  Enter the UBF conundrum. At what point should “everybody” be tapered to just “everybody without a night stick”?  It’s all well and good to have friends. But when your non platonic  semi permanently assigned partner in bumpin uglies is involved, all those “friends” may need to take a back seat. Read more of this post

what’s my name…

Around a year ago, I was tapping away on this very same keyboard trying to convince elrock that calling the blog us, alcohol and mishaps was a good idea. Thanks to that url being unavailable and him convincing me otherwise we ended up with ubf. While good for the blog, it doesn’t mean I can’t still share the stories that led me to consider that less than friendly google search heading. So let’s dive into the memories vault and see what we can come up with…

This story took place a few years ago but I’m pretty sure the message is still mildly entertaining to those not involved. We should start with setting the scene…I fond myself on a business trip to the windy city for an annual celebration of the company’s well doings from the previous year. Said another way, co-workers were converging on the same city to race to see who could provide the others with alcohol induced ridicule worthy material faster (Aside: Now you can see why I love my job). Given your guy’s propensity for good natured competition sponsored by Jack Daniels, I was ready for the good times to show up…

To add to this eventual remorse cocktail, one of my co-workers sent me the following text:

Him: “I have a friend with big boobs that would probably like you. Are you in?”

Me: “In.” Read more of this post

pretty girl blues…

not long ago onetrik outlined the reasons why the fly-est of the female persuasion seem to receive all the perks while putting in little to none of the work (yeah, i’m something like a poet)…i’m sure that post sent pretty girls everywhere off into frenzied jubilatory spending sprees that consisted mostly of shiny mac lip gloss and church window sized mirrors…

but this, of course, begged the question…why aren’t all these dimes wifed up…(brief sidenote…for the purposes of this post dimes will include 8.8’s and above as judged on appearance alone by anyone other than the subject or the subject’s inner circle…) and more importantly, why are some of the wifed up dimeys still getting traded in for 6 or 7 cent pieces…now i could try to come up with one reason to sum it all up, but one thoroughly summed up reason makes a pretty whack list…so instead, i opted for the more common, ubf approved, multi-piece explanation…drum roll please… Read more of this post

op-ed…

***** please allow us to interrupt the usual tomfoolery for a rebuttal piece to a previous post from one of the homiettes*****

Dear Lolita,

The other day, I believe you led some of us astray in your description of the “Inflated Man Syndrome.”  I agree with you that this phenomenon does exist.  However, I think it’s known in other circles as something called “Damn Good Intuition.” I hate to poke into other people’s business (weeelll… actually, if you know me, this ain’t true at all), but if I don’t correct you, many of these readers will be out here thinking that their relationship is safe and that their man is off limits to the general public.  The truth is that while you may think you don’t want my man, there are gaggles of respectable women  (and swamp donkeys) who do.

I appreciate that you find it despicable to covet someone else’s man.  I think this is especially true if that someone’s man is actually her husband, but that’s for another day.  I think a lot of people would agree with you and never expect to find themselves in that situation.  Until they are in it.   Read more of this post

only in the A…

Of course I had to make the trek across the country to Atlanta to see the homie elrock’s commencement from  grad school. But given the 20 months that had passed since my last visit, I had forgotten a few of the finer things offered in hotlanta…like the default tea coming with a side of diabetes…or the red dirt that you can’t seem to get out of your air max 90’s air pocket…or the large acceptance of gentlemen’s clubs as a leading choice for the evening’s activity…or the likelihood of the dj taking the typical down south set and breaking it out by actual cities (Memphis stand up…Tupelo where you at?)…

By far the most distinguishing factor of the A vs other cities would have to be the ferocity with which the ladies get their hollerage on. Visiting as a man who merely resembles a gentleman who might be interested in a southern belle’s company guarantees the full on bachelor tv show treatment. The ladies take general receptivity and turn it up to one hunnid. Don’t believe me? Well I have a slightly intoxicated and mildly fabricated story to prove it… Read more of this post

the new hitch…

In order to keep this athletically slender physique in line, I participate in a number of physical endeavors. One of those happens to be a recreational basketball league where a bunch of never weres compete as if a championship ring were on the line vs the actual prize…an iron on tshirt. Evidently I lucked out and ended up on a pretty good team of never weres as we consistently finish with the best record in our league. But for some reason my team has a winning the championship game allergy as we have yet to win the actual championship despite our usual regular season dominance throughout four consecutive seasons. Who wants that tshirt anyway right…I do damn it but that isn’t what we are here to discuss…

After having to go through this buffalo bills experience once more this past weekend, I returned to the comfy confines of my home to participate in something I never lose at…drinking whiskey on the rocks while facebook stalking people. In a bizarro sports mimic real life moment, I was made aware that the ex boo-thang decided to add the word fiancé to the front of her name over the weekend as well…say word? word…

Now before you start the ‘are you ok’ comments or the ‘here is some random booty to make you feel better’ introductions, it is all good…because similar to my rec league championship virginity being intact, I’m very familiar with sitting in the chair only to get up and have the next man sit down right before the music stops (who doesn’t like a warm chair). This last instance just happens to be another example of my marriage training wheels capabilities. Read more of this post