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

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A tale of 3 cities: the New York state of mind…

When I first started writing the softer side of UBF, I jokingly teased onetrik about taking his stories to arguably the greatest city in the world, New York. His response was something about the weather in LA and how it makes his skin glisten the right way, the overdone video vixens  and faux ‘model chics’ beautiful women (because it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not so long as it’s not too obvious) and of course, the fact that he was one of the dudes who actually bought his whip instead of renting a Bentley for the weekend in order to procure said model chics. And if I can be honest with you, all of his reasonings seemed…well…(Insert BBM Yawny face).

As a proud ex-LA resident, I can attest that the weather is great. But since I am not homeless and don’t live outside, I’m not sure if that’s enough to carry the entire city into greatness. Because really, nothing compares to the coastest with the mostest. The Big East! And while my baby hails from the dirty South, it’s important to note: He don’t live there no more. In the tale of 3 cities, if New York is the wifey, LA is definitely the Side Chic. And no offense to elrock, but the South is probably more along the realm of the One Night Stand… 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

it was all good just a week ago…

Oh fellas…Every now and then I feel compelled to tell you the truth. It’s rare. And I very much try to suppress the urge. But off we go before I lose my nerve…

Here’s the scenario. You meet an attractive potential situation wherever you encounter such things and commence the dance called dating. Drinks here, three strategically placed phone calls there, a dinner/movie date and one day time outing later…and no sex. So, by this time, you might be doing the internal calculations. Three dates have passed and you have spent anywhere from $200 – $1000 depending on where you live, what she ate and what that magical daytime date entailed. You have spent approximately 3 hours in anytime minutes and 100 thumb strokes on bbm or 200 on an iPhone because of that damn autocorrect.  And finally, you have had anywhere from 15 minutes Marc Nelson style to a couple hours if Marvin Gaye is more your thing of um…’personal time’ with her Facebook photos. Read more of this post

pay to play…

I come from the school of thought that in the early stages of dating the financial backing for said experiences should be funded by the wallet closest to balls. Now you can argue how advances in bra technology and the invention of the nanny make this a somewhat antiquated view point, but I would rebuttal with the varying differences in the quality of women that side with me vs you as the final verdict on who is right.

With that agreed upon, there is a certain level of monetary resources needed to determine whether the woman you managed to convince the full phone number out of is indeed in the mrs. right running. By no means is this a campaign for ‘trick if you got’, it is actually more of a ‘how to’ on avoiding the ‘broke dude’ title she references in her facebook status later that night.

The following simple worksheet will help determine if you can afford a real date or should be relegated to endless text messaging from your couch. You may want to grab a pen and paper to jot down a few calculations. Read more of this post

men of a certain age…remix…

Earlier this most amazing month to be born in, elrock brought the ladies a message on the lack of linkage between men’s age and likelihood of wife-ing. Well as we sit together on my birthday eve, I’m going to balance things out with a special message for the fellas.

This was sparked by a post on MadamNoire.com highlighting select wardrobe pieces that mature women (not going to call you old) should be placing in the retirement bin asap. It led me to realize the gents needed a similar agreed upon list of things our dob doesn’t mix well with. Given the limited wardrobe options afforded guys, our list of ‘I became a man and put away childish things’ goes beyond just what not to wear (although we’ll touch on a few of those).

So after moving past my initial thought of just saying anything Bobby Brown has done in the past 5 years, I came up with the following eight things you are too old for: 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

decoded…

This just in: Men and Women’s expectations may not always align.

Actually they never align as I re-discovered in a conversation this past weekend with one of the homiettes.  In an attempt to put her business out there get everyone up to speed, she and an interested fellow (that happens to live in a different city) found themselves discussing logistics for a potential let’s see if you really look like those text pics meet-up visit in her city. Being the gracious (and naïve) host, she offered her humble lodgings as a resting place for him and his finest carry-on luggage. In the female mind (from what I’ve been made aware), the offer makes sense as how could you expect a visitor to spend his good Applebee’s money to stay in a hotel after flying across the country. However in the male mind, the offer alludes to the potential for some good ole fashioned buck-e-nekkid tussling.

Enter mismatch expectations and their friend, frustration (in this case sea color spheres).

Luckily our conversation was able to pre-empt any unexpected backed up pipes but it made me realize that I couldn’t possibly reach all of you ladies (I’ve tried) in time to prevent future instances. Hence going to the interwebs with a blog post. Read more of this post

I ain’t sayin I’m a gold digger…

Tricks are for kids.  (Sorry Onetrik) And so is being broke. By now our wonderful readers at UBF have realized that Onetrik & I have been having a somewhat unhealthy friendly debate about who has it better: the Ladies or the Tramps Gents. Yesterday, we were mislead to believe once again learned that according to Onetrik, men just want to plough every field possible.  Who cares about being first? As long as you can lap up those sloppy seconds, thirds, lasts, leftovers, moldy cheese, cottage cheese, yeast (ok I’m taking it too far, but you get my point) in a Costco cart, as a man- you are winning.   So I ask him and all of you other flashy dudes out there. Tell me something? Is all this winning free? That’s a rhetorical question.  Because we all know the answer to that.

Last year this time, I made the mistake of dating someone who was extremely pretty and used more hair products than I do good looking, but broke as a joke.  Anytime I wanted “Us” to do something, “We” couldn’t afford it and “I” ended up paying for it.  The situation ended eventually because he was a facebook whore not exactly the most honest man I had ever dealt with, but in the end, I was most angry at myself for spending money on this broke @ss dude.  Fast forward to now. Read more of this post