when no doesn’t mean no…

No. I’m not here to talk about that kind of no…today at least…

While boarding a plane last week, I made it to my row to find an empty slot in the overhead space for my carry-on therefore defeating the airlines attempt at tricking me into losing my luggage. However in a goldilocks and the three bears scenario, I did find an older foreign women sitting rather comfortably in the seat conveniently located on my boarding pass…

Given I was traveling for the day gig, I opted to not go the rather ethnic ‘seat check’ route and instead try to decipher why she felt the need to personally warm my seat. Her reply was not very helpful (or audible) as she merely grabbed for her knee. Seeing that she was sitting next to a man that appeared to be at best her husband and at worst her pimp, I decided to ask him to help solve this row 20 seat mystery. He offering at least some form of a verbal response answered in a language not familiar to my ears nor found on any taco bell menu my eyes have seen…

My next act was to ask for their boarding passes to overcome this apparent communication gap. As I had suspected, they were assigned the window and middle seat vs my aisle seat. After trying to again explain this to them, she continued to direct me to her knee. This made me realize that her legs were somehow allergic to every seat not found under her back end at that moment and she was now expecting me to trade with her…

[insert dilemma] Read more of this post

game over…

While the majority of you were spending your Sunday afternoons either taking in the beautiful spring weather or complaining about the delay in your spring weather arrival on facebook, I spent my lazy day alternating between a poor excuse for a pimp limp and elevated icing of my baseball size ankle. You see what had happened was earlier in the day I made the mistake of challenging gravity to a duel during my weekly basketball game without realizing that my foot wasn’t familiar with my limited hang time allotment. Upon arrival back on the ground, my ankle apparently traveled faster than the standard 9.8m/s^2 of my heel (using that engineering degree after all…moms would be proud) leading to an ankle sprain…

After hearing of this news and seeing the picture of my professor klump ankle, a homie suggested that I might want to consider hanging up the nikes and substituting bingo as a weekend activity. Disregarding this foolish advice, I began to recuperate from my brief setback through whiskey filled rehabilitation and I drunkenly considered other things society should be waving the white flag on in normal daily activities.

*cue the list* Read more of this post

better to receive than to give…

One of the homies left me the following facebook wall message last week:

“I’d love the UBF perspective on females proposing…”

I spent the initial 4 days waiting for her to finish the ask with what the females would be proposing. But there was no follow-up.

I then asked around to finally realize she was asking me about the scenario where a female would propose marriage to her relationship co-pilot. My first reaction was something along the lines of “oh hell naw” but figured that wouldn’t make for much of a post and I’d be forced to come up with an additional topic help provide the homie with an actual perspective to her inquiry. Read more of this post

last call…thanks…

It’s that time again- the 40 day period between the end of November and January 1st , where we spend money, drink, and oh yeah… “Give thanks”. We kickoff the holiday season with the greatness of having two days off work meeting with friends and family while getting our shameless drink eat on.  Onetrik & elrock already expressed their many thanks to various parties, so it was only right that I hop on the bandwagon.  As November comes to a close, I’d like to give my appreciation to:

– Onetrik, for allowing me the opportunity to share the worst side of myself via UBF & a shameful potty mouth, all the while cutting me down to size when he feels appropriate

– Elrock, for being the resident wordsmith as he demonstrates exactly why we should avoid guys  anything like him 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

my love for ms. piggy…

From time to time, the ubf crew brings a metaphor to the party. We introduce her to our close friends. We get her a little tipsy to help loosen up. Enjoy some laughter over appetizers. We have fun. Our friends have fun. All thanks to the metaphor.

Today is not a metaphor…I repeat…Today’s topic is not a metaphor.

By now our committed readers are probably aware of my true loves by now, but I’ll share with those of you newer play cousins. I love all things videogames, nike and mama onetrik. With a few exceptions, those things will receive priority in my world. While not quite in that echelon but included in the 200s level is an additional love interest: bacon.

My pork-intolerant folks out there may want to excuse themselves from the table because I’m about to spend some time talking about my beloved fatback. Read more of this post

digital girl(s)…

My mom has a great saying: How you get a man is how you lose him. Now granted, she was referring to man snatchers ladies that follow the OPP method of booty acquisition, but I find that this credo can apply to almost any situation.

In this day and age, there are countless ways of meeting your potential ball and chain mate, however more and more people are turning to Onetrik’s “Interwebs”. Match.com, Eharmony, JDate, etc. are just a few of the websites out there for the dating challenged where people can meet their version of “the one” without even taking a shower leaving their house.

Yesterday, a good friend of mine posted the following Facebook status:  “Public Service Announcement – Facebook is not the free version of Match.com.” This got me thinking. As someone who is recklessly approached via Facebook chat from friend’s of friends, college classmates that never paid me any attention in school and guys that I may have met once in my life, I can relate to the post. It’s annoying. However, as evidenced by my cheating ex, guy I recklessly smacked bellies with titleless pseudo relationship, many men do find success getting laid meeting women via the Facebook medium. Now you will have to excuse me, but since Facebook is NOT Match.com, I can honestly say that I think men that troll for booty on Facebook are lame. Are you that socially inept that you can’t meet a real live human out and about sans the false pretense of “friendships” on Facebook? Why do you have so much free time to troll my 6000 multitude of Facebook albums and tagged photos? When did my Facebook photos become your version of Skinemax? Read more of this post

rsvp for wifey…

While I’m not sure when this list is created (could be given out at the final girl scouts banquet), I do know that nearly all women have one tucked away some where. The list of things they are saving for their eventual husband. It could be compiled of things explored in the bedroom or could be a sacred recipe passed down from their mother’s mother’s mother. Regardless of the contents, it is like the woman’s American Express…they don’t leave (their parent’s) home without it.

In the spirit of anything you can do I can do better, I’ve put together my own list of things I’m saving for wifey. So all of you harlots standing in between me and my future baby momma with a ring can stop asking as you will never experience any of the following: Read more of this post

ex-commitiholic…

Hello.

My name is onetrik and I’m a recovering relationship jumper.

Not familiar?

One that suffers from this condition is usually easy to identify. They are rarely (if ever) found without a significant other. In short, they treat gf/bfs like leases. As they near the end of the term, they’re out shopping for their next 36 month arrangement. Not to say all their relationships have ended because of another person, but their relationship status is like an iron with an auto shutoff feature that doesn’t work.

So now that you know what to look for, let’s talk about why you should avoid dating them (of course until they have received necessary treatment to overcome the affliction): Read more of this post