Archive for August, 2010

Nobody likes you: How you have managed to inadvertently alienate everyone around you

Posted in black culture, bustdowns, niggas, Pimpin', sideline hoes on August 30, 2010 by klkenned

Lately I’ve been taking stock of my life, evaluating my relationships, and why they aren’t as awesome as they could be. I think, “Gee, I can’t STAND being around so and so for more than 2 hours. Why is that?” My phone rings and I avoid some people’s calls like the plague. Why do I need a nap after a 30 minute conversation with my mother in law? After some serious consideration, it occurred to me:
I think I may hate 60% of the people I know. I just don’t LIKE these people.
And by “these people” I could quite possibly be talking about YOU.
I know you honestly think no one understands you because you’re so “different” or “special.” Pastor says people hate on you because you are “blessed and favored.” In fact, you probably think EVERYBODY likes you. But I’m here to let you in on a little secret. Lean in real close because I’m about to say something you probably need to hear.
Nobody likes you. And it’s not them, it’s YOU.
You’re not “special.” You’re annoying. And the worst part is…
You don’t even know it.
So now that I have let the cat out of the bag, I’d like to also let you in on a few things that may be the cause of your strained relationships and lonely nights. You can thank me later.
You got bad ass kids:
Ladies – you know I’m about to say something you don’t want to hear so if you didn’t like being told to STFU, then maybe you should stop reading.… I’ll give you a second to find something else to do… Here’s a link to Bossip so you can occupy your empty mind space with meaningful shit…

There is nothing that is a bigger turn off than a woman with bad ass kids. I know being a single mom is hard, I’ve been one. I’ve also been a married one and its not any easier. It’s hard maintaining any symbiotic relationship where you have to be ALL things – provider, nurturer, disciplinarian, drill sergeant, maid, etc and all they have to do is stay alive, so you’ve let some things slide. Thing is, you can’t. You let up on love and attention, and they become a sociopath. Let up on discipline and they become a sociopath. Let up ANY aspect of childrearing and your kid is destined to be what? A sociopath. You’re a mother. You don’t get a break. It’s the decision you chose to make when you decided to keep that $315 in exchange for your soul. But that’s not my point.
My point is – any kid who is allowed to act a damn fool without correction, under the adoring gaze of his pointless mother, will not be invited back to my home. Period.

Fig. 1 Your bad ass kid being escorted from my home.
Your child is NOT welcome in my home if they intend to cry endlessly, whine incessantly, make a mess and refuse to clean up, or do anything I may even perceive as a threat to my kids including my very sweet and small dog. And if you, pointless mother, can’t come over without said kid, then you, pointless mother, aren’t invited either…

You talk to damn much:
Oh yeah. Bet this looks real familiar…
Ever wonder how you went from being the one always in the know to THE LAST to know? It’s because you talk too damn much. People don’t want to tell you shit because you tell everybody else. For whatever reason you think it’s a good idea to tell everyone else’s business (maybe it’s because you have none of your own) you need to understand that a person just needs one good run-in with your big mouth before they change your name in their cell from “Shaun” to “Do Not Answer.”
And another point – Allow me to quote myself here:
“One of the most endearing traits of a dear friend of mine is his refusal to share the intimate details of his encounters with women. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ASS YOU CAN GET IF YOU JUST STFU??? I feel like I need to say that again.
You thought it would be a good idea to “mention” to a mutual friend that you smashed. NOT a good idea, especially if you’d EVER LIKE TO SMASH AGAIN. This not only makes you look like a hater, but it makes you look like you’re super excited to just be having sex. What are you, 12? Did she let you touch her boobies *giggles*? Women are just as adept at not answering your phone call as men are. STFU.
You’s a Heaux
Ever pulled a two for one deal? You know, where you invite one “friend” over and you “hang out” and he leaves and another “friend” calls and you “hang out” and nine months later you’re on Maury having one of those “friends” pop and lock his way through a NOT the father celebratory dance? Well I haven’t. And I don’t fuck with heauxs who have.
Now my male friends may disagree with this particular sentiment, but I have to be honest. If I think you’re a heaux, we can’t be friends.

Fig. 2 Heauxs I can’t be friends with…
I live in a community of bored heauxwives (heauxs who have been wifed) and it has occurred to me that The Heaux Tribe has no loyalty to anyone. They sleep with each other’s husbands then act like they didn’t. This isn’t Sula – we aren’t just gonna stop talking. I will stomp you the fuck out, if I even THINK I see you looking heaux-eyed at my husband. I will mistakenly stomp out bitches who I thought might have been you. “But we’ve all made mistakes in the past…” say the heaux. Yes, and like felons, who spend their whole lifetimes paying for them, you will, too. *stomp stomp stomp* I know that *may* put me in the next category but I’m willing to risk losing a few friends over my marriage 
You’re crazy:
You think you got blocked on twitter and unfriended on facebook because you were “keeping it real.” No, you got blocked and unfriended because you just might be a killer kung fu wolf bitch.

Fig. 3 Thanks, Granddad.
Have you ever flown into a rage at the slightest perceived provocation, hell bent on ruining everyone’s good time, then the next day, acted like the shit. never. happened? You are crazy. Ever met someone and, on the first encounter, start telling them about your child molestation and resulting trust issues? Crazy. Ever engaged in a relatively intellectual conversation with someone but instead of acting like you had a point or some common sense, you would rather shout profanity and call them names? Crazy. AND immature.
You scare people. People don’t want to talk to you or invite you to girl’s weekend away because they are afraid of you. Your volatility, your insatiable need for attention, and your sad, sad reality are the kinds of things people don’t want around when they’re trying to have fun. Really, if people walk away from your conversation, frustrated and unwilling to participate because you can’t play nice, you may need to check your level of maturity… and check into a psych ward.
I know for a fact there are people who don’t like me for whatever reason (According to my last blog, it’s because I’m “a bitch.” Who knew?). This is a fact that I am comfortable with because I know that, while they’re mad I called out their bad ass kids or blocked them on twitter, my life is doing very well without them in it. So, ninja friends, think about the time you waste spending it with people you don’t really like, and think about WHY you don’t like them… Then get rid of their ass.
I hope you found this little exercise of introspection to be as cathartic as I did.
Until next time,
And yes, you can follow me on twitter…


Hood Rats vs. Hood Chicks: A Side-by-Side Analysis

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, hip hop, niggas, ninjas, Pimpin', sideline hoes on August 19, 2010 by theninjaparade

Sooo…after a long day at work the other day, I decided to entertain some shinanigans on Twitter.  One of the trending topics I chose to be especially ignant on was #HowToSpoilAHoodrat . 

There is a significant percentage of brothas that love hood chicks *author raises hand* but hood chicks should in now way be confused with the run-of-the-mill hoodrat.  In the midst of me jokingly recounting a list of real scenarios i’ve been in whilst romancing various hoodrats and hood chicks…I started to get some negative feedback (from twitter hoodrats, no less) tombout how I was making fun of them with tweets like:

#howtospoilahoodrat surprise her with a pair of “sweet nothings” lace boycuts from Walmart

 #howtospoilahoodrat buy her a pair of them stiletto heals that look like Jordans

  #howtospoilahoodrat *plies voice* po’ kool-aid on her reeeeal slow

#howtospoilahoodrat slide that rat-tail comb up underneath her 27 piece when her scalp itch

#howtospoilahoodrat kiss the sensitive part of her neck from where she burnt herself with the flat irons

#howtospoilahoodrat wash her hair, be sure to scratch the glue off her head from when she take her tracks out

#howtospoilahoodrat rub cocoa butter on her stretch marks before bed

 #howtospoilahoodrat get her all made up then treat her to a photo shoot with dude that be making all the club fliers

Don’t get me wrong…me and MOST of my friends thought this shyt was HIGHlarious (and that was just a sample of my hour long tiraid).  But I noticed that there were some who took offense and began to unfollow me…and hootrat mutiny, if you will. 

So I’m here to set the record straight.  Prove my allegiance to hood chicks, while still continuing to make fun of raggedy hoodrats. 

Here’s what I have:

1. My Stolen Definition (via Shunology)

Hood Chick (n) A woman who’s indigenous to any slumish, minority-prevalent neighborhood characterized by violence, poverty level incomes, candy ladies, d-boys, illegal cable, The Final Call newspaper, substance abuse, violence, and public as…sistance abuse. Her behavior and looks may not reflect her surroundings, and are therefore subjective to the individual, not to be immediately stereotyped.

Example Hood Chicks: Keiysha Cole, Mary J. Blidge, Jill Scott, Michelle Obama, Foxy Brown, Wilma Rudolph, Oprah Winfrey.

Hood Rat (n) A triflin ass bitch from the hood. Normally characterized by their colorful, drastic hair dos, or their vagabond/harlot behavior, these bitches do anything for money, fame, weed, liquor, etc.

Example Hood Rats: Lil Kim, SupaHead, Khia, T-Baby, Trina

2- Style.  Style really is the essence of a woman, and is the one enduring factor that will make her sexy into posterity.  Here’s how the measure up. 

The Hood Chick: her style is usually a mix of evenly priced clothing and a not-so-obvious knock off “designer” purse.  It’s tastefully done, but still kinda hood because she bought the purse from a lady who set up a table at her church picnic.

The Hoodrat: her style is almost always low budget with one moderately expensive accessory, or the complete opposite…a bunch of expensive accessories and an outfit from CitiTrends. 

3.  Theology.  Yes.  Hood Rats love Jesus too…but in their own way. 

Hood Chick Theology: God is a good God, he sent Jesus to make a way for me and mine.  I know I may have started this race out one way, and stumbled along the way…but He is able.

Hood Rat Theology: *Tupac voice* Only God can judge me.

4. Views on Dating: This is slick where shyt gets comical and you can really tell who’s who…because some of them hood chicks’ll fool ya, they really rats.

A Date with a Hood Chick:  She’ll be late, but make sure she has a babysitter.  She’ll wear something tastefull and attractive but be sure to show of either breasts, ass, hips…but never all three (at least tattoo will be shown). Dinner at TGI Fridays (or something comparable: Applebees, Red Lobster, Ponderosa, Ruby Tuesday…) some drinks at a lounge where smoking is allowed, she’ll have moscato and enjoy R&B music until you easily convince her to have a shot of Patron and starts talking too much.  If you play your cards right, you can smash on the first night…but probably won’t because depending on how much you like hood chicks, this might lead to something.

A Date with a Hood Rat:  You gotta pick her up from her homegirl’s house, because that’s who’s watching the kids.  She’ll wear something that highlights her best and worst assets.  For example if she has a donk but bad feet, she’ll wear liquid leggings and open toe shoes.  You can actully avoid buying food all together and go straight to the club.  I recommend a lounge, because some bytches that are “always hating on her” will invariably by at the club that night to eff up your flow, so never EVER let her pick the spot.  She might….might….might, try a glass of wine, or just go for what she knows and start taking back shots of Patron.  Before you know it, she’s re-enacting ol’girls part from the T.I. “whatever you like” video and lip syncing on top of a couch in the lounge as on-lookers gawk in amazement. You could hit that but you won’t because she smells like the what she’s been vomiting out of your car window the whole ride home. 

I could go on for days…but I just wanted to give the fam a heads up.

~el jugo

If you liked this blog, you’ll love this one.

How to Cope With Being ADDICTED to the Wrong Woman

Posted in Uncategorized on August 18, 2010 by theninjaparade



***stands up in a group of men, all seated, with white Styrofoam cups of lukewarm coffee in their hands***

Hi, my name is El Jugo and I’m addicted to a light-skinded woman with pu$$y like the Hawaiian sunshine and a cheerful personality; I’ve been “clean” from her for over 113 months…this is my story. 

***Group responds in unison, slowly***

“hiiii El Jugo”

***Takes my seat and rests head in the palm of my hands while another recovering addict pats me on the back and reassures me that ‘this too…shall pass’***

How did I let it get this far???  And over a woman, no less?

Real talk, MOST of us have been there.  And by “there” I mean…addicted to another person.  I’m not tombout “in love with”, “infatuated with”, or any other neo-soul late 90’s black cinema romance bullshyt.  I’m tombout the real thing…addicted.  As in, my flesh desires her as if it desires food. 

Crazy thing is…some women think that shyt is cute!? WTF??  Being addicted to a person, especially one you’re not currently involved with IN ANY WAY is never a good look. 

So, how do we get caught up in such foolishness??  What should we look out for (as men, especially) to avoid the trappings of an addictive woman? What to do (and what NOT to do) to overcome your addiction??

In an often philosophical way, many men proclaim to be addicted to “women”, “thick women”, or “beautiful women”…that shyt doesn’t count.  We all are.  I’m tombout that one that causes chills up our spine. 

Here’s what I’ve found::

Recognize & respect good pu$$y when you’re in its presence:  I think it was the artist D’angelo that made a famous song comparing pu$$y to weed.  Well if pu$$y is weed…good pu$$y is Heroin (from henceforth pronounced her-ron).  Most of us have never had that her-ron. We’ve had some good-good…maybe even some killa…but not that package that gets you hooked off top.  I know we LIE to virtually every woman and tell her she’s the best (or even good); we LIE and say the reason we last so long is “d1ck control” (when really it just wasn’t hittin right); we even believe the LIE and keep coming back (usually because SOME pu$$y is better than none at all).  But when you stumble upon greatness, it is your duty as an American to treat it as the potent force of nature that it is. 

  • Never tell the good pu$$y how good it is.  Try to play it cool at all costs.  I know this is hard because you’ll invariably bust quick.  DO NOT apologize:  chances are, every dude she’s been with busts quick (because she got that her-ron) and she thinks it’s normal.
  • You can always tell the ones with the magic, because they’re usually unsatisfied.  Think about it: if every woman who claimed greatness were telling the truth, then men wouldn’t be able to stay aroused long enough to please them.  If you can’t handle it, avoid women who complain about their sex life…they usually have that her-ron.
  • DON’T wife it!! I know this sounds crazy…but I have to protect you from your own ego.  Good pu$$y has a way of making men do strange things…get you a real fine woman with some average pu$$y (and maybe keep the her-ron on the sideline).  You’ll thank me later.


Flee the very face of addiction: When it’s over…and I do mean over.  You must sever all ties.  You may even have to lose a few friends that you both share for the sake of you moving on.  Every time someone mentions her name, even if it’s YEARS later…you’ll be prone to relapse.  A “how you doing” call/text/inbox/DM is just like the Pookie scene from New Jack City.  Yeah nigga that’s you.  I know you’re used to ol El Jugo being all fun and games…but I actually am addicted to a woman, she is lightskinded, and she does have pu$$y like the Hawaiian sunshine.  Ol El Jugo hasn’t messed with shawty in over ten (10) years…and I saw her in the Chi about 5 years ago and literally ran out of a club that I had paid good money to get in to.  That’s how committed I am to overcoming my addiction.  Hell, I’ve avoided my college homecoming for almost 7 years, in large part, to dodge my addiction.  Now…I know what you’re thinking: “what if she’s my babymama?”.  Welp, as to not promote deadbeatism amongst ninjas who may be prone to such…make sure you meet her in a well-lit public area to execute the child transactions: libraries, the police department, etc.  Seems harsh, but at least you can kinda ensure her long sexy legs and supple breasts won’t be entirely exposed as if you went by on Friday night while she was getting ready for the club. 

Seek support:   Let’s face it, most men have never had some extremely good addictive sex, so your boys may not be a good resource to get support from.  Their idea of good, is probably just…not bad.  I recommend listening to your friends.  Chances are, most of your friends are relatively positive and love women, play close attention to how he talks about “that one” though.  Nope, she’s not “the one” (whatever in the hell that is) but she’s that one that changes his whole disposition when he mentions her.  She didn’t do him wrong, she didn’t cheat on him with his cousin…but for some reason, he don’t fuck with her at all.  Probe into that…because he probably don’t fcuk with her, because for his sanity and peace…he knows he CAN’T fcuk with her. 

I’m just here to help. 

~el jugo (recovering addict, 113 months clean)

If you like this blog, you’ll love this one.