why i drink…9/23…

we find ourselves on the cusp of another weekend and what better way to get it started than a round of reasons to have a few rounds of your favorite liquid bad decision enablers…

+ gas pump turned off not because my car was full but because I didn’t have enough in my bank account…

+ evidently forbes mag predicted the first hip hop billionaire and it wasn’t me…

+ makes my judgmental ways more entertaining… Read more of this post

pre-hangover…

I normally come to you fine folks of ubf with stories filled with follies and conquests but today I’m mixing things up a bit. You see someone (obviously not in their right mind) approved a meeting of the minds between elrock, sdotkikko (silent ubf contributor) and myself in some of europe’s hottest locals. Yes you read that correctly. We will be gallivanting across the likes of Lisbon, Barcelona, Ibiza and Amsterdam over the next 10 days. We are actually in the air as you read this…

Given how much love the ubf fam (and eventual groupies…we know you are on the way) shows us, I decided to not make you wait until the end of our excursion to read about the goings-ons. Based on past experiences, I’m going to go ahead and predict a few things that will happen over the next 10 days or so… Read more of this post

the bottle benefits…

Almost exactly one month ago, we gathered around our computer screens to discuss the potential negative side effects of having one more drink than is automobilely recommended. After a few side conversations (mostly with myself), I realized that some of you may have gotten the wrong impression…which is to think that an overzealous affinity for alcohol is only good for landing you at best case on MTV true life or A&E intervention and worst case Maury Povich or Judge Joe Brown…not the case…

While introducing my liver to a new whiskey yesterday with some of my closest drinking companions, I began to mentally collate a list of positive conditions linked to inebriation. Said another way…the following showcases why drunkards are winning and aa members are quitters… 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

you wonder why they call you bitch…

One of my twitter friends (on my other twitter page) posted the following comment: “No female wants to be called a bitch, but once you put “bad” in front of it, these girls feel honored.” As a minority woman with a position of pseudo power in business, I’m very used to being called a ‘Bitch’. I’m never honored by it. But I’m never dishonored either.

I’ve been called the infamous ‘B’ word since I was about 15. Pretty much as soon as I discovered my big mouth and decided to start using it regularly, trickles of expletive adjectives became the norm when discussing me. Now I joke around and say I have a big mouth. But honestly? If you cut my hair, chopped off my breasts, gave me a penis and some facial hair…well my mouth wouldn’t seem so big. My opinions wouldn’t be so polarizing. Read more of this post

and the role of the wing will be played by…

We’ll be taking a break from the usual ubf perspective on all things you should stop doing, start doing or do horizontally related to the dating game. Instead I’m going to bring you into one of my recent nights of randomness.

On this particular evening, I stepped out for a drink with one of the homiettes I hadn’t seen in a while. While we caught up on the latest happenings in each other’s lives, we noticed a guy on his dolo right next to us. Given our similar levels of melanin in the ‘we are the world’ bar, he felt comfortable enough to pop in and out of our conversation sporadically but mainly kept a drink in his hand and his eyes on the door. Once I realized he wasn’t going to be robbing the place, I assumed his eventual company was running on a little cpt.

Fast forward 30 minutes or so and two females greet him with the standard full frontal hug displaying their knowledge of each other’s existence prior to this meeting (not relevant to this story but anytime you can type full frontal you go for it…right?). The homiette and I continue to converse in what has now become the black section of the bar.

Then the randomness begins… Read more of this post

when those guys become ‘That Guy’…

New York- ‘concrete jungle where dreams are made of’ blah blah blah. The city that never sleeps is soon turning into the city where nobody ever settles down. As of 2008, the national median age for women to get married was 26. For men it was 28. This was the oldest recorded since the census started keeping track in the 1890s. I imagine in New York City, one must add at least 10 5 years to those numbers in order for them to start sounding believable. Being old a mature single is widely accepted and embraced in cities such as New York, and if we use onetrik’s proclivity for not settling down as a litmus test, Los Angeles as well.

However, the idea that you do not see marriage in your near future does not mean it’s acceptable to be ‘That Guy’. Who is “That Guy”, you wonder? I’ll explain. ‘That Guy’ is that old-ish dude at the club that younger women mistake for somebody’s lecherous uncle.  Remember when you were in your early twenties and you saw someone with slightly outdated clothing at a table buying bottles, inviting pretty young thangs over to share his wealth and thinking he was ‘Doing it’, when really everyone else thought he was just old? This blog is dedicated to ‘That Guy’ and UBF’s dedication to making sure ‘He’ isn’t YOU. Read more of this post

any given saturday (night)…

As anyone who frequents the nightlife alongside elrock (or dedicates their life to reading posts such as this or that) knows, he is always the eventual recipient of a betchawontgotalktohimoverthere predicament. I use the word predicament because it always ends up being the least likely to be approached  she-beast (filled with just enough liquid courage) that tracks his scent and moves in for the kill. As you can imagine, it isn’t a situation he likes to talk about let alone live through. But for the rest of us it is similar to any VH1 Sunday night show, entertainment at someone else’s expense.

With that bit of pre-reading out of the way, I found out this weekend that it is all fun and games until elrock isn’t there to play his role and then on any given Saturday night…it can be me. Read more of this post

time to give some thanks…

tomorrow is the day we all gather around family laden feasting tables across this great country of ours to engage in the annual calorie consumption contest known as thanksgiving…between the greasy goodness and the series of itis induced head nods, we’ll spend time thanking whomever we thank for whatever we have…

with that in mind, i thought it only right that i spend today’s post doing my best drunk uncle impression giving thanks for all those things that are currently taking up space in my basket o’ happiness…

on this day her are all the things i am thankful for…

– onetrik for making sure there are never any light skinned ladies left when i show up…

– lolita for her perky boobs and nice @ss fresh provocative female perspective…
Read more of this post

that girl we love to hate…

Hello you groupie. Yeah, I said it. I’ve already posted about my love of myself the gold digger, but let’s talk about the groupie. If gold digger’s are high class escorts, groupies are street corner hookers. Same job, grimier M/O.  Just in case you are confused by the definition of a groupie vs. a gold digger, I will break down the basic constructs.

Gold diggers often actually have something going for them. They just want your piece of the pie too. Some of my favorite Gold diggers are Beyonce, Nicole Murphy, Amber Rose and even Tracy Edmonds. What do all of these women have in common? Now that they have their own money (even the ones who obtained it via the California gold rush, i.e. Hollywood gold digging), they still make sure to reap the benefits of their significant other wherever possible. Jay-z wouldn’t have stood a chance if he wasn’t, well Jay-z.  And honestly?  A woman of her caliber has earned her right to dig for the best looking gold in town. Anything less is a downgrade.

The difference between a gold digger and a groupie: With a groupie, all of the pretense is gone. There is no wining, no dining, no contrived dates, no falling in love with his lifestyle. Gold digging takes planning, finesse, dare I say even a semblance of class. Groupies just stand around the VIP section, backstage or bottle service trying to get in where they can fit in. A good night for a gold digger ends in a tennis bracelet and sexy times on high thread count king sized bedding and conception. For a groupie, a good night usually entails some head pushing. Pun intended. Read more of this post