Boys will be boys....

***Disclaimer***
This isn't my usual blogging style. I just couldn't seem to find humor in the situation. Not like me I know. And if you're reading this and you think its about you...theres a good chance its not.

I decided today that men are a lot more clever than I give them credit for. In fact they are brilliant. They fool us into thinking that they are utterly incapable of any sort of intelligent or original thought because really what human being enjoys sitting in front of a video game for hours upon hours. And what sort of human being can live in their own filth like that. We’ve just assumed that because they act like pigs that they have the mental capacity of a pig as well. But they are so clever aren’t they? The way the play us like fools. The way they do everything that a boyfriend would do, without ever fully giving us the title. The way they keep us just close enough so that we’ll still answer their late night texts when they want to “see” us, but far enough away so that you understand being a date to a dinner function is just beyond the scope of your relationship. Because we know that we’re in college and maybe it’s not the right time. We understand that your job takes up so much of your time. And we sympathize with you when you tell us that you just got out of a long term relationship. We rationalize all of the reasons why you can’t commit to us…right now. So we lay in our beds at night content with our title-less pseudo relationships because we are terrified of being left alone with ourselves for even one moment. And we will take gladly 1/6 of you while we give one hundred and fifteen percent of ourselves. We don’t take the time to see the inequity of it all because we are far too busy. Busy day dreaming about you. Busy de-coding your latest text for signs that maybe…just maybe you like us “like that.” To busy holding on to the belief that he couldn’t possibly be saying all the things he says to me and he couldn’t possibly be doing all the things that he does to me if he didn’t like me “like that.” But the truth is, all the reasons he gave you don’t exist. And those reasons we thought up on our own are simply figments of our own befuddled imaginations. Because when a guy likes you and I mean really likes you nothing will stand in the way of him being with you. Not hell nor high water and certainly not “timing.” So when all is said and done we are the ones left confused when he out of the blue has a girlfriend. A girl that he was willing to commit to despite the reasons he spat in your face. And now your heart is in your stomach and your jaw is on the floor because this couldn’t be. What kind of person does that to someone else? I thought he wasn’t ready for a relationship. We didn’t even see it coming. Like being hit by a bus on our way home. A bus that we should have saw coming, but we we didn’t, because felt safe enough not to have to look both ways anymore. But when the story is retold, recounted for the entire world to hear, you are the fool. WE are the fools. The fools who is crying over a guy that was nothing to us. Because did our feelings really exist or even mean a damn thing without the title. Can we even validate our hurt feelings, our anger, our homicidal thoughts toward him if you weren’t really his girlfriend? So we don’t get mad. We don’t raise a fuss and we try not to shed a tear for our glorified fuck buddy. For our intimate associate. And he moves on knowing that he doesn’t owe us an explanation for the way he treated us. Believing wholeheartedly that he has no responsibility for our broken heart. After all, we were never official. He’ll quickly about the good morning baby texts he sent every day or the I miss you phone calls that could last into the wee hours of the morning. Those are just things the guys do to all the girls right? It didn’t mean he actually cared. You’ll just be some girl he smashed back in the day before he met his wife. Just some girl. It’s as if we imagined the whole thing and broke our own hearts. Women are taught to be passive when it comes to love. To give an ultimatum or to demand anything of our lovers is taboo. And we wouldn’t want to break the rules now would we. We wouldn’t want to take control of our own feelings and simply ask the question “what are we?” We will happily sit back and wait for you to tell us what we are or are not. We will wait until the day you tell us that we are…done. That something better has come along and we are no longer needed or desired. And then we are left with what we had all along. Absolutely nothing. Lucky for you though, you got to leave with a souvenir. A giant chunk of us. You know. The part of us that trusts and loves and feels. You took it with you.
I hope it grows back soon.

Who came first...the pimp or the hoe?

I'm a firm believer that all girls are crazy. Every single one of them...absolutely insane. And the prettier they are, the more psycho they are. Even though I like to believe with all my heart that I'm one of those calm, laid back non Jasmine Sullivan I'll bust the windows out yo car type of chicks that all guys dream about...the reality is, I'm just as crazy as the rest of them. I HAVE been brought to the point of almost throwing a brick through a window shield. Now before you give me the stank face for turning my back on my own gender and revealing our (worst kept) secret, hear me out. You know that really crazy girl who's super jealous of any girl her boyfriend (or if she's extra crazy, the guy she's hooking up with) talks to? Yea, u know...the one who goes through her dude's cell phone, puts the black light to his sheets and basically inspector gadgets the hell out of his life...she was probably cheated on at some point in her life. Chances are she wasn't always crazy, she could have been a real nice girl...back in the day...before she met...Tyrone. Yes I said Tyrone...it just sounds like a really douchey name which is useful for the purposes of this post. Don't judge me. Anyway...this girl was probably really trusting and she gave Tyrone her heart...among other things. AND THEN...she found out Tyrone was gettin it in with some Becky down the street and now is unable to trust men again..and for sure hates every white girl in the world. Sounds like a story we've all heard before. Poor girl, she used to date Tyrone and now her ass is crazy. But have we ever really thought about what happened to Tyrone, who he used to date? What if before the crazy girl, Tyrone used to date...Bonquisha (that doesn't even sound like a name you can trust does it?). Bonquisha was Tyrone's first love. Despite her unfortunate name he was crazy about her. He treated her right, took her on picnics and what not, and even spent what little money he had on her (probably getting her hair done...Bonquisha sounds like a girl with a weave). But as you might have guessed...Bonquisha was just a raggedy hoe who only wanted Tyrone because he bought her a couple of packs of Remy hair (100% human) and took her to the movies. So when Bonquisha...with her raggedy ass, takes her hair and leaves...Tyrone is thus transformed into a cold hearted player/pimp type dude who turns his next girl into crazy private detective hiring ass chick. I could easily ask what happened to Bonquisha, besides being named Bonquisha, that turned her into such a dirty hoe. But honestly...who has time for that. So once again I reiterate the fact that ALL girls are crazy and that the prettier they are the crazier they are. The pretty ones have more opportunities with guys and thus more opportunities to have their lives ripped to tiny little shreds. Girls..ok...WE are so freaking crazy because someone (a guy who shall remain nameless) made us this way. And maybe that guy was crazy because some chick ruined his life and credit before he ever met us. Its like a never ending saga that just goes on and on forever. So all we are really left with is the question...who came first...the pimp or the hoe?

The thirsty b**tch quiz

Thirsty. Typically a word that we associate with how we feel after eating one of those expensive salty ass pretzels from the mall. But that's not the kind of thirsty I'm talking about today. I'm talking about the thirsty ass girls I seem to be surrounded by everyday of my life. What is a thirsty ass b*tch you ask? In one word...desperate. Scratch that...EXTREMELY desperate for some type of play from a guy...any guy. Thirsty ass b*tches come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and they seem to be hiding behind almost every corner. They don't have a man...and if you've got one they want yours. These girls aren't hard to find...and if you see one you'll know. But how do you know if YOU'RE the thirsty b*tch? Well that's why I'm here. After many Friday and Saturday nights (and sometimes Wednesdays) spent conducting highly classified research, I have a composed a short but effective quiz to measure your level of thirstiness. If only one thirsty chick reforms herself after taking this quiz, I wouldn't have conducted those many hours of research in vain.

1. Have you ever attended a sporting event with the sole intention of attracting attention from guys?
If you have gone to a basketball game in stilettos, a face full of makeup, a low cut shirt, tight jeans, and an over sized Louis Vuitton bag that only contains lip gloss and a cell phone...then you might be a thirsty b*tch. Give yourself one point. Give yourself another point if you dint even know the rules of basketball.

2.Have you ever gone to the club in stripper gear and danced provocatively in front of VIP in the hopes that some guy will share his bottle with you?
If you have waited for a Trey Songz song to come on so you can dance like a freak in front of the guys in VIP spending their rent money on bottles of Nuvo and Ciroc in order to get a glass of watered down vodka and cranberry...you might be a thirsty b*tch. Give yourself one point. Give yourself another point if that's the only drink you had that night.

3. Have you ever gone to the gym looking like one of the girls from the Kanye workout plan video?
If you have gone to the gym in too tight spandex shorts, a sports bra more useful for showing off your cleavage than supporting anything, foundation and eyeshadow and your entire outfit was color coordinated...you might be a thirsty b*tch. Give yourself a point. If your hair was also down and you only walked on the treadmill without breaking a sweat...give yourself another point.

4. Have you ever walked past a group of guys and gotten angry that they didn't comment on your appearance?
If you came to campus in your cutest outfit, hair done, nails done, everything did for the sole purpose of walking past the spot where all the athletes hang out and gotten angry when you didn't even get an "aye girl"...then you might be a thirsty b*tch. Give yourself a point. Give yourself an extra point if you walked by more than once that day...and got mad again.

5.Do 75% or more of your facebook profile pics involve you taking pictures in front of the mirror with your blackberry?
If the majority of your profile pictures contain more ass, hips, thighs, and breasts than face...you might be a thirsty b*tch. Give yourself a point. If all of the captions include comments about how fine you are or how big your ass has gotten...give yourself another point.


Now that you have completed the the quiz, it's time to find out your particular level of thirstiness. There are ten possible points. If you scored a two or lower..you could use a glass of water, but never fear there is still time for you to change. If you scored between a three or five...you have reached an unfortunate level of thirstiness. You may need to have a bucket of water dumped on you to quench that thirst. And finally if you scored above a five... THIRTY B*ITCH ALERT!!! I repeat THIRSTY B*TCH ALERT!! You have reached the maximum level of thirstiness. You might want to consider entering a thirsty b*tch rehab program. No amount of water can help you now. Stay thirsty my friends...