baby beyonce and other tales of disappointment…

this can’t be happening…i, like many others sat Indian style in the middle of my living room floor breathing heavily, clutching the remote in my left hand hand  and an ice cream sandwich in my right, watching beyonce knowles-z do her tv tease thing…and…just like most of you, i had the oxygen come sprinting out of my lungs as she peeled back her shimmery tux jacket to reveal what looked to be a nerf football stuffed inside a cummerbund…

that nerf football turned out to be a real live human that her and shawn carter worked on apparently between watch the throne verses…and just like that, my plans of  accidentally impregnating ms. “to the left” were out the window…let’s face it, after this bout with pregnancy she’ll never fall for my “that’s not really how babies are made” baby making scheme…

over time, the sinking feeling of dying butterflies in my stomach was replaced with the normal lactose induced cramps, but i couldn’t help but reflect on some of the other occurrences that have lead me to this perpetual drunken state… Read more of this post

get in the game…

I’ve recently read one too many bios that include the phrase ‘I don’t play games’ and then find a buffet size list of dating complaints in the same person’s stream of 140 letters or less digital rants. So I’m devoting the next 750 or so words to trying to solve this knowing that the ones that need to read it won’t make it pass the click more button and those that do are probably already equipped with this knowledge…but as is life…

The root of dating pain for most is that they feel it isn’t a sport…while the potential partners in their ‘so you think you can be my husband’ pairings are definitely approaching it as a sport…and probably a seasoned veteran at this point because of her need to date older guys (another post for another day)…

Now as much as I’d like to tell you to filter out those players of this ‘game’ and find the genuine gents, I’m not sure your ovaries are that patient…don’t fret though because just like LeBron if you know the rules and apply a little practice here and there, you can experience mediocre results from great expectations… Read more of this post

what about your friends…

Those of you on twitter are most definitely aware that the annual BET awards took place last night. Some of you may have even forfeited hours of your life to sit through them in addition to the running tweet commentary. I, on the other hand, couldn’t find where Time Warner keeps the stereotype affirming channels so I missed out…

*gets down off of soap box*

However, the byproduct of the ‘awards’ show that I was unable to elude is that my place of stomping is the city that selected the shortest straw and became host to this circus of an event. As with all black events, there were parties, pre-parties and post-parties. Given my affinity for the night life, I was convinced into participating in one of these associated gatherings. The night ended up coming in as a solid seven on the overall good times scale but the true gift of the evening was the above average people watching. Now LA is known for giving inordinate amounts of ‘style’ but this weekend the style got turnt up…

While commenting on our fellow party goers, my drinking compatriots and I came to an interesting insight: where are these people’s friends? Assuming they roll with individuals that possess sight and voice faculties, there is no way in the world that we should be seeing this person in such atrocious attire. How am I so certain of this you may be wondering? Take a walk with me through the following scenario… 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

irreplaceable…or not…

“to the left to the left…” these lyrics (which marked my brief opening into beyonce’s love life) sent the imaginary all women’s spin class i was watching off into full super petal (imaginary because i’ve never actually attended a spin class but that’s where i would like to envision that part of the story taking place…i’m sorry…i’m a dirty old man and this is what we do…and it sounds better than “yesterday while i was riding around looking for krispy kreme hot doughnut signs)…

to this day, the ladies anthem of 2006 still evokes emotions in the hearts of the relationship malcontents…and the crips…because the left side is also the crip side…for some reason, as the chorus began this time, i listened with a renewed sense of intrigue…ladies anthems come and go but i wondered if folks ever really took the time to evaluate how many totally replaceable figures were occupying valuable real estate in their lives… Read more of this post

why we’re not married…

A male friend of mine sent me this article that’s been blowing up the blogosphere and wanted my opinion. For those of you too lazy busy to read it, it is a list of reasons why women such as yourself are not married. Oh yeah- and it’s also talking about me, too.  You will be surprised to know that I completely agree with Ms. McMillan’s higher level points- she’s 100% spot on about unmarried women like me. And since she’s been married a whopping three times, I think she knows a bit about what it takes to make it down the aisle. Allow me to break down the finer points:

1.       I’m a Bitch – She is absolutely right. I do get angry. I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone who reads this blog. I never get angry without a reason, but I definitely display my displeasure when crossed.  If somebody wrongs me, am I’m supposed to take the “high road” and just be  quiet? Or as she suggested: I should pull a Kim Kardashian and ‘smile, wiggle and make a sex tape’. Although, last time I checked, Kim’s not married either so I guess that’s not the appropriate reaction after all.  Read more of this post

the ghost of relationships past…

i was sitting and sipping with one of the homies recently as they lamented to me on the ills of these single streets…she described a few of her prospects then systematically shot them down for errors that had yet to occur…she had found a way to remain single forever lump everyone she’s met into 3 categories that were defined by her 3 previous failed relationships…basically, whichever ex the new guy most resembled (and i use that term very loosely) is how they got labeled…this label helped to pre-define how any relationship with that person would most likely end…now i don’t want to call this a dumb approach but my digital thesaurus is on the fritz…so yeah…we’ll just stick with dumb for now…

although i found her approach to be light weight ridiculous, i do know that she’s not the only one that is allowing the crayons of love lost to color in the blank outlines of their new possibilities… and i, for one will not stand for it…so i’ve concocted this quick and simple list of reasons why you should let the new mate possibilities define themselves… Read more of this post

another round of thanks…

So we find ourselves at that one day of the year where you thank others for doing the things you spend the rest of the year taking credit for. Since you are either patiently waiting on mama dukes to finish up the greens or sitting on the couch with your pants undone eye raping that piece of pie, I’m guessing I have your attention for a little bit.

Yesterday elrock kicked off the holiday with his special shouts to those things filling his basket o’ happiness. Not to be outdone, I’m back with a turkey leg and a few things I’m thankful for:

+ elrock for always being the co-conspirator in these bad decisions and good times…

+ lolita’s unique ability to raise the male ubf readership through the mere mention of perky boobs and nice behind without any pictorial evidence… 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

you get what you pay for….

This weekend was classic UBF research. The girls and I took a break from our respective lives to meet up and mingle. As a frequent flier of socializing, I’ve always noticed that men are more inclined to approach the women that are the most “Done up”. Hair done, nails done, everything did- The Fancy ones. Interestingly enough, our respective QBs tell us that we are at our most beautiful without make up first thing in the morning. Am I really supposed to believe that?

I often engage in banter with Onetrik regarding his decision to parlay in the city of milk and fake honeys, but this weekend I was once again reminded of how silicone “Enhancements” are the new black. Having lived in Southern California before, I am very familiar with the high levels of Botox, silicone and Restylane invading the masses of “Average, Everyday” women.  This has filtered into New York and now “Fake” is the equivalent of the city girl’s little black dress. Everyone has one in their closet. Personally, I refuse to give a comment one way or the other on how I feel about all this in regards to women other than myself:  In the end, I do not date women so my opinion on the topic is 100% invalid. However, I’ve noticed an increasing amount of men and women focusing on their dislike of all things fake. For the women who are straight making this negative commentary about women who look better than you random women at the club or grocery store, I can’t help but wonder why you care again, your hatred of it doesn’t count.

For the men- I feel you. If I were a man, I’m not sure I could hang either. As a woman I imagine rubbing my man’s head only to find out that’s not really his head. Grabbing his biceps and realizing they are implants. Taking off his pants for sexy times and discovering that he has a prosthetic enhancement. When you look at it that way…well- That would be disturbing! I think we all remember the episode on Fresh Prince of Bel Air where Will ends up dating a girl with Fake… Everything. (If you are in a hurry, skip to the 3:33 mark). It’s reasonable for some one to expect that the woman they go to bed with looks about the same the following morning. And the day after. And the day after that… Read more of this post