Archive for the black culture Category

The Infamous Ninjas Cuff Season Survival Guide

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Cuffing, Dating, Global Ninja, hip hop, Music, Ninja Sports, Pimpin', Relationships, sideline hoes on September 26, 2013 by Dizzer

cuffs

 

 

I was perusing Instagram a couple nights ago, and couldn’t help but notice the influx of Memes flooding the timeline. For those unfamiliar, there are two kinds of Memes; those that make you laugh out loud, and those that give sad people with shit else to do a platform to put their business in the streets, while simultaneously complaining that their business is always in the streets (which also makes people like me laugh out loud).

Long story short, it’s cuffing season pimp! The draft is now in session. My cousin Jas is taking breaks from running lace fronts out of my deceased Big Mama’s house down in Florida to let y’all know her thick ass is single, and ready to get CHOSE! So, gather ‘round friends, negroes and countrymen. Lend me your ears….here’s what I’ve learned from your IG accounts about how to (and not to) get chose this season:

Rule number one…Never be number two. Like Ricky Bobby said, if you’re not first, you’re last! Believe that shit.  Reconcile it in your spirit. Sign up for second string, your ass will end up on the bench for most of winter. There are no injuries in cuffing season.

Turn down for what? Because posting pictures of your legs in a tub of bubbles relaxing or chilling at home making a bomb meal is way sexier than pictures of you indulging in “single bitches” activities. I don’t care what you’re wearing, what club you’re in or what you’re drinking, your #longasmybitchesloveme hash tags don’t hide the truth. NO ONE LOVES YOU. And that is why your ass is single. It’s called skill sets, bitch!

Real Life is cooler than the Internet. One of my girlfriends went out for her birthday three weeks ago. She didn’t snap pictures of jack shit. No selfies. No shoe shots. She took five shots, went on the dance floor, and met her a boo. No distractions, keep your head in the game (see what I just did right there?)

Follow chose bitches. Birds of a feather, right? Most chosen chicks aren’t posting much right now, because its game season, but there are a few flocks (basketball wives, Kevin Hart’s girlfriend, etc.) who will be posting until the season starts in October. Learn what you can now.

PSA: Don’t get caught up in thinking that because you’re just as cute as the chicks you see hooked up on reality television or the interwebs, that your standards of dating are remotely realistic. 6.03% of men in the United States make $100,000 or more. Not black men, all men. 47% of black women in the United States have never been married. There is an even more ridiculous percentage chance that men that fall in this category will run up on your ass in the club and cuff you. Your skill sets should determine your standards, not the other way around.  Have a good season folks!!

 

~Courtesy of our dedicated contributing Ninjas

 

If you like this, you’ll LOVE this one The Sideline Heaux Chronicles 

 

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Livin’ For The City: An Open Letter To Those Who Ignore Our Heroes

Posted in black culture, black people, Music with tags , , , on May 21, 2012 by theninjaparade

I watched the awards show last night and a little piece of me died.  What is it going to take?

Every year another music heavy weight passes away and we profess our love on social media.  We post youtube videos of their classics.  We defend them as the “greatest _____ of all time”.

We ride or die for our legends, but only posthumously.

I say we choose life!

Today I’m taking a stand.  I am issuing a full-on threat to whomever lets THE Stevie Wonder walk out the house with his head looking a damn fool.

Don’t you not remember the feeling the first time you went to a birthday party and they DIDN’T sing the Stevie version of Happy Birthday? #awkward

Or how your sister cried as she danced her first dance at the wedding to My Cherie Amour?

Or maybe you forgot how your Goddaughter did an interpretive dance in her first pageant to Ribbon in the Sky?

Shit…half of ya’ll really thought President Obama was Signed, Sealed, Delivered!

Nope. You didn’t.  You ain’t forgot, because I ain’t forget. Stevie got more hits than hair on his head and we still turning a blind eye.

But you selfish bastards keep letting our heroes go over the edge.  I bet you would have gave an overweight crooner a Whopper, or edged up a line of coke for an already coked out vocalist?  Wouldn’t you?  You ain’t shyt.

And please miss me with that “he’s a grown man and can wear his hair however he blah blah blah…”

STEVIE. BEEN. BLIND!  He don’t know what the hell he supposed to look like, it’s up to us and we let him down.  No, YOU let him down.

When I see you. It’s on.

Personally Signed.

~El Jugo

You Are What You Read: Legs Wide Open…Eyes Wide Shut

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, Pimpin', sideline hoes, Uncategorized on April 12, 2012 by theninjaparade

*clutches chest and gazes to the heavens*

Why OH WHY must ya’ll make me act a fool like this?

I was chillin’….I really was.  Had stepped back from the blog scene for a sec, meditated, sought counsel, the whole nine.  But nooooooo, every time I try to get out, you all do some dumb shyt that keeps bringing me back in.  El Jugo is effectively the Michael Corleone of the ratchet blogosphere.

So here’s my dilemma:

I have a brain trust of feminine commentary that I turn to when utterly perplexed by the shyt women do.  This distinguished sorority of sistas lends me an everyday perspective on things that I, as a man, may be oblivious to.  They keep me from acting entirely on my impulses without first seeking a more enlightened perspective.  So, I’ve been seeing some crazy shyt and I text these chicks today.

Question:  What type of inferences can I draw from a chick reading, IN PUBLIC, one of those urban-erotica Zane-screw me hard on the desk of my supervisor so the security guard who’s been trying to get on can see-type books?

El Jugo’s Impulsive Response:  Oh…this bish is a runner, and wants ME to KNOW.

[Disclaimer:  before we confirm or deny whether El Jugo’s impulse is correct, let’s take a moment to analyze the Think Tank’s commentary.  Names changed to protect the innocent]

Giselle N.:  “I’m just sayin…she can’t say she’s reading it for the book club.  Chile please, cover up.” El Jugo’s sentiments exactly!  This is the equivalent of literary porn.  Granted, we at The Ninja Parade, encourage all women to thoroughly explore their inner freak, but damn babygril.  What type of attention are you soliciting??  Did you not notice me noticing you as your thighs rub together about some chick getting d!cked down in the shower?  Quit crossing your legs and read some damn Chaucer.

Janet E.: “If I were a guy, I would talk to them simply because they feel free enough to read a sex book in public, what else is she willing to do in public?”  Great. fcuking. questing. Janet.  Although I don’t think anyone deserves to be disrespected, regardless of her choice of reading materials…I do wholeheartedly reserve the right to discreetly think you’re a freak on the prowl.  What one reads is probably more indicative of their interests than what he or she listens to or watches on television.  Anyone can watch some random shyt on tv or get stupid song stuck in their head….but how many people reeeally read very graphic sexual exploits and aren’t at the least mildly interested in acting some of that shyt out? *crickets*

Pristina W.: “I’m all for women being comfortable in their sexuality…perhaps a sista should get a Kindle”  You see, everybody has a lil El Jugo in ’em.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t read erotica and touch yourself, but El Jugo gets offended at the suggestion that men shouldn’t draw conclusions about what’s in plain view.  You have a right to read whatever you want, just like i/we have a right to think whatever we want about it.  And if you can’t put that shyt down and MUST take it everywhere….damn, get a Kindle.  *Hi-five’s Pristina*

Anna N.:  “I mean maybe they just need some excitement in their lives.  In my opinion  women who read those books are not sexually fulfilled.”  Couldn’t agree more.  Not being fulfilled doesn’t entirely mean you’re not getting ANY…it means you’re not getting broke off by the shockingly intelligent dude who fixes your car on a late evening while your lackluster man gives you regular sex…ya know, the type of shyt that happens in the books.  Funny thing is, the guy that fixes your car probably hits on you every time and you don’t give him a blink.  Grow up and act that shyt out then…or at least leave a copy of that freaky shyt on your front seat next time famo changes your oil.

Cynthia B.: “They want to seem sexually empowered but are actually thirsty as hell.”  Damn, exposed.  Intellectualism, even feigned intellectualism cant hide true thirst.  And *leans in and whispers* it be them smarty art heaux that’s the most goin’.  Bish we see you.  And it’s not like this stuff is written in any way to suggest a true challenge of your scope of imagination…it’s designed to make you hot ‘n bothered.  Whereas some guys may see a book (any book) and think “scholar”…El Jugo checks the title and thinks “runner”.

Londa G. “I also think women who read those books don’t practice discretion.”  Wait…so not only are you thirsty, you messy too?? WTF ever happened to reading hair magazines?

See.  I told you.  El Jugo knows when a chick is, as one respondent eloquently stated, putting together a “marketing plan for the box”. But don’t let our commentary discourage you…it fact, let the transparency be what motivates you.

Go from me and thirst no more.

El Jugo

If you like this blog, you’ll love this one:  The Moscato-ization of Black America

The Everyday Black Woman & Beer: A Love Story

Posted in black culture, black people, Global Ninja, hip hop, Ninja Sports, ninjas, sideline hoes, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on June 23, 2011 by theninjaparade

The blogosphere, especially, is saturated with images and ideas of common sistas being inept, overly domineering, inconsiderate, and basically a bunch of onry bishes when it comes to relationships.  Bullshit.

“Not so!” , we say, here at The Ninja Parade.  All these females can’t be clueless and only #winning if they’re ridiculously gorgeous, with nice firm asses and breasts like casaba melons (or, more popularly…white).

Some of these chicks have to be doing well.  Real well.  We know the statistics, 50% of marriages end in divorce…that means 50% of them shyts last F-O-R-E-V-E-R.  And ya know what?  That’s alright with us, because the aforementioned “forever” is predicated on two looming premises that we like to conveniently ignore: 1- ninjas need love too…and it’s not just women wanting to be in long-term joints. 2- the women who want it…get it, sans the ridiculously fat asses and casaba melon-esque breasts.

Today, we’ll address the latter premise, and answer the burning question:

How do average, everyday, sistas attract, secure, and maintain healthy relationships with capable upstanding black guys??

It’s really quite simple…beer.

You see, Ol El Jugo was educated at one of the finest Universities around and the majority of our student population was comprised of African American women.  It was there that I noticed something peculiar about a certain group of women that ignited an informal case study that I’ve been conducting ever since with a working hypothesis that: sistas who could enjoy themselves in the presence of beer seemed to be cut from a different cloth then those who didn’t.

They just are.

Blame it on the fact that they probably had a father, or father figure, who drank beer and loved they mama…blame it on the “Homegirl Syndrome” that connects beer with sports (which is most men’s first love)…hell, blame it on the rain, but a sista and a nice frosty mug, into perpetuity, are as sexy (if not more so) as stelletos/boy-shorts/wifebeater combination that we’ve grown to love.

Soooooo…

Instead of clowning heaux, which we have become quite infamous for, today we shall uplift, rejoice over, and dare I say…champion the marginally attractive-to-fine black woman with beer.  Today we’ll get our Special Agent Dr. George Huang from Law & Order: SVU on…and create a profile of these beautiful beer-clad nubian princesses.

Scenario One: She’s Married, buying Beer at the Grocery Store.  This bish IS. IN. LUH. Not just in luh, but a champion. No seriously.  She’s the epitome of winning.  Not simply because she’s married, but because she sees the value of beer’s synergistic magic in the peace and sactity of her household.  She gives good (not great) dome, washes clothes in Gain, and makes a mean ass homemade taco.  Not only that, she gives her husband the obligatory 45 minutes of complete silence that he needs upon entry of the home. She secretly runs the show, while making him feel like a Kang. *salutes* [Editor’s Note: the beer doesn’t actually have to be for him, if lil mama needs to throw back a cold one to shut the fcuk up...May God & Klkeninja keep her.]

Scenario Two: She’s Married, buying Beer at the Liquor Store.  Location, location, location.  Ok, she’s got the right idea…just hasn’t been married as long and jawn in Scenario One, but was surely mentored by her.  She get’s the big picture, however, the fact that she’s at the liquor store…when she was undoubtedly at the grocery store, or at least rode past it, earlier suggests her priorities are a bit out of whack.  It’s all good boo…we see you though.  Maybe daddy wasn’t there growing up, but your dedication to the cause of not coming home without a cold and refreshing Heineken, suggests she makes the best grape Kool-Aid in the contiguous United States AND definitely has hood tendencies and is probably a hood chick. (not to be confused with a Hood Rat. See also: Hood Chicks vs. Hood Rats) She keeps dish soap in the bathroom (why? we have NO CLUE, maybe it loosens the glue in her tracks better, or her nigga is just as hood and likes his boo to smell like Lemon Joy fresh out the tub…who knows?), but she’s winning.  Times get tough, but she knows where to go for comfort. *kee-chee* <—that’s the sound of a cold one being cracked open, and of winning.

Scenario Three: She’s Single, buying Beer at the Grocery Store.  Legendary football coach Vince Lombardi is quoted as saying…”success comes from knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of being”. The single woman in the grocery store choosing between Yuengling Amber Bock and Newcastle Brown Ale is a champion in the making.  When you see her grab that 12-pack, take note of that moment in history.  It is a young Michael Jordan raising up over two Georgetown Hoyas defenders in ’82.  It’s magical.  And any woman who has ever bought beer in a grocery store and been approached by SEVERAL men can attest to the starry gaze they/we have in their/our eyes.  She may not cook or clean that well, but you’ll never hear her complaining about *Allen Iverson voice* practice?  Why? Because that’s where champions are made and she knows it.  And if you think niggas aren’t slick judging you when you host cookouts, Super Bowl parties, baby showers where men are invited, and any other shyt that would allow any man to glance into your fridge and see a beer that *looks* like its been there for a while…you crazy as hell.  We see that shyt and we’re either gonna shoot our shot right then, or toss an assist to one of our single homeboys and let him know just how special you are.  Real talk.

Scenario Four: She’s Single, buying Beer at the Liquor Store.  This bish just like drinking beer…and I ain’t even mad at her.  There’s a certain sexiness to women who independently purchase and consume beer.   I’ll bet two paychecks that ol girl has a great sense of humor and nice rack, and even if she’s not into sports (which she probably is)…she’s smart enough to enjoy a good game and *wait on it* …shut the fcuk up from tip-off and last shot.  Unlike the other three scenarios, where the purchaser could easily be buying for another person (presumably male), nah…jawn likes beer and drinks beer.  She’s the independent woman that pop culture song writers write about without all the pomp and circumstance.  She is in complete ownership of her social life, whether romance works out for her or not she can rest on her blessed assurance that when that nigga don’t call back she can paint her toenails, throw back a cold one, and bump that new Jill Scott until she goes to sleep and tomorrow will be a new day. God is able…ahhhhhshaddabowshay!

“I don’t always drink beer, but when I do…” – The Most Interesting Man In The World.

~ El Jugo

****if you liked this Blog, you’ll love: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles

Food & Liquor: Why Some Ninjas Should Just Stay In Their Lane

Posted in black culture, hip hop, Music, niggas, ninjas with tags , on June 20, 2011 by theninjaparade

<<insert image of El Jugo reading hard cover book, in front of blazing chimney, smoking pipe, in maroon smokers jacket…glass of Scotch in arms reach>>

[Editor’s Note:   Oh, Hello.  As a brief aside from the rather crass lambasting that the creative forces behind The Ninja Parade serve up on a regular, we would like to offer you today a more polished and refined piece.  Consider this a sprig of fresh cilantro on the side of your normally ignant Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.  Don’t get it twisted though, despite the rather high brow approach, we are actually SONNING THE SHYT out of famo.  Now, I’ll turn the blog over to our Sr. Geo-Political Correspondent, KatcherNTheRye]

‘Cause a ninja wear a kufi, it don’t mean that he bright

America is a more perfect union in part because its citizens have the right to free speech as provided by the 1st Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. America has become a less intelligent society in part because too many of its citizens exercise that right despite not knowing what they’re talking about.

Hello, Lupe Fiasco, nee’ Wasalu Muhammad Jaco.

During a recent CBS interview, Fiasco, a critically acclaimed rapper and Chicago native, had this to say:

“For me, the biggest terrorist is Obama in the United States of America. I’m trying to fight the terrorism that’s causing the other forms of terrorism. You know the root cause of terrorists is the stuff the U.S. government allows to happen. The foreign policies that we have in place in different countries that inspire people to become terrorists.”

I don’t know about you but I feel absolutely fucking terrified.

All that stands between us and the biggest terrorist, President Obama, is Lupe Fiasco, who is trying to fight the terrorism that’s causing other forms of terrorism. Except, well, what other forms of terrorism are being caused by the terrorism he’s fighting? And by what means is Fiasco fighting this terrorism? By his own admission he doesn’t vote.

My brain atrophies each time I try to pick through Fiasco’s word salad, which is neither cogent nor salient. It’s the hubris that’s to be expected when someone who’s content to regurgitate the scattershot rhetoric of anti-establishment blowhards is given the opportunity to speak his mind publicly. Serious, thoughtful political discourse suffers another casualty each time someone such as Fiasco weighs in.
That’s intellectual terrorism and Fiasco needs to be called out, not celebrated.

In particular, his statement that,

“The foreign policies that [the U.S. has] in place in different countries that inspire people to become terrorists,”

…barely constitutes the shell of an argument. It’s much closer to being an accusation, one that is lacking wholly in substance.  What foreign policies, specifically? How are people inspired to become terrorists? What people?

To those who pride themselves on feeling (as opposed to actually being) “conscious,” Fiasco is killin’ it! [These same niggas typically have Ph.d’s in the most popular conspiracy theories and cut hair on the side, See Also 4 Great Myths & Conspiracies] It doesn’t really matter than he didn’t get around to saying what makes President Obama not just a terrorist, but the biggest terrorist. And I guess it doesn’t matter, either, that Fiasco didn’t cite an example of America’s foreign policy toward even one nation.

But words have meaning, so, yes, it does matter. Lots.

In the micro, the reality is that President Obama is not a terrorist. The far-left fringe is upset because America is prosecuting three wars that it can’t afford to fight and, unfortunately, have resulted in the deaths of innocent civilians.

In the macro, the reality is that no one who is elected president of the United States begins his term with a clean foreign policy slate. The policies he adopts and pursues are necessarily influenced by the policies his predecessor adopted and pursued. Then there’s the matter of the countries these policies affect.

Are the Chinese, for example, going to wake up one day and decide it’s just fine that America sells tens of billions of dollars of arms to Taiwan? Are Americans going to be energy independent anytime soon, thereby freeing the government to stop supporting the oppressive House of Saud?

People are entitled to their opinions but not their own facts.  If people want to be taken seriously even after they’ve offered their opinion –often unsolicited– it must be informed by understanding and an appreciation for context. Fiasco’s opinions are informed by abysmal ignorance and a pitifully myopic world view.

That’s enough to get Facebook to get “Likes,” Retweets and blog co-signs, but among people who have a real interest in geopolitics, Fiasco can kick … and push … and coast his ass the fcuk outta here.

What.

@KatcherNTheRye

I Got The Victory: These Heaux Is WINNING

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, hip hop, Music, sideline hoes, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on June 16, 2011 by theninjaparade

Spoiler alert bish!

It’s the second quarter of 2011, and if you haven’t noticed, MVP Kim Kardashian is wearing a Sierra-Leonian knee cap on her left ring finger. Leading the league in assists is Evelyn Lozada. [Formerly noted for running behind cars in heels, Lozada,  has moved on from the Rookie of The Year victories of head for handbags to the All Star team of wifey/ aspiring baby mama]

And, please… Spare me the cries of hate that “That ish won’t last” and “she’s not happy” commentaries because their sponsors are black and their lambos are blue ninja! The heauxs are winning, plain and simple. Here’s why:

Heaux Skills Are Transferrable: Gone are the days when a heaux was just a heaux. Neo-heauxs are bringing back the Margie Hendricks brand of heauxing. The self-professed Mrs. Ray Charles Robinson on the road was his wife away from home, not just nookie. She was ride or die, contributed to his financial gain and, most importantly, she shut the fukc up! {see klkeninja’s “ Put a ring on It “ post.}.  Heauxs are making dollars and sense as the low-key, high-return alternative to wifing loud ass, broke ass chicks who can’t cook and hate their jobs.

Keeping His Name Hot in These Streets:  That’s right, while you were at the bar screaming “ninjas ain’t sh!t”, heauxs were having the BEST YEAR EVER. Heauxs are becoming better at talking to the right people. Talking to your girlfriends about him gets him nowhere… talking to the press keeps him relevant. Heauxs are the best PR for ninjas in NFL-lockouts, bad seasons, jail stints and whatever fukcup your man has gotten himself into. Ladies, trust me and Beyonce, be the light that keeps the streets on and upgrade his reputation whenever you get the chance. If you don’t, the heauxs will (and heauxs  will light it up on twitter, faceook, vimeo, foursquare and via press release while yo’ ass sits up somewhere hating)

Heauxs Have Money:  Get your weight up BISH!! Heauxs are bringing their own money to the table. Regardless of who they threw a drink on to get it, neo-heauxs have dough. So, why are they chasing money, you may ask? This isn’t about getting money for them…it’s about doubling money and stackin that shyt.. Longevity. Stability. Twenty-Four hour champagne diets! Selling Body Magic is not an entrepreneurial plan, honey! And for this reason, girls, your man is on to the next one…

Heauxs are Heauxs: I know what you’re thinking:  “This chick is a heaux.” Not exactly. I just know what I want out of life (name that tune). I’m a believer in fundamental truths begetting other truths. The Secret, or positive visualization, works because it stands on the fundamentals of faith. Heaux visionaries understand that keeping him focused in the bedroom lessens idle time in the streets. I employ said fundamental tendency in my marriage. Yes, homie, marriage. Get you one!

[Disclaimer: The mayhem and foolishness spewed in the above article is indeed the shared viewpoint of a population of happily married women who ain’t mad at heauxs for being heauxs. All subsequent emails (which can be forwarded to yomommawasaheaux@yodaddyiswinning.com) will receive automated messages of the “Put a Ring on It” post strictly re-inforcing your need to STFU and listen.

~The Fundraiser

****if you liked this blog, you’ll love: The $15 Million Dollar Question

Little Girl Lost: Confessions of A Sista, That’s Been There…Done That

Posted in black culture, black people, bustdowns, Global Ninja, Music, niggas, ninjas, Pimpin', sideline hoes with tags , , , on June 15, 2011 by theninjaparade

“LOVE?  You know, what do you know about love? What do you possibly think you know about love? You know LOVE should have brought your ass home last night!”

[Editor’s Forward:  As stated in other blogs, we at the Ninja Parade are taking great strides to diversify our content.  Our ignorance can no longer be confined to the sheer mockery of society and putting a muthafuka on blast for kicks and giggles…but we desire also, to show our softer, more compassionate, ignant side.  Enjoy, ~The Infamous El Jugo]

Little girl lost

I’m a virgin to the ninja parade [Editor’s Note: …and to the Ninja Parade only] but I’m going to rock this shyt like I’m Tyler Perry at a Women in White “Usher Board” Baptist Church convention.  

So, my so called adult life started out like a story straight out of black college life weekly.  Girl goes to black college, pledges sorority, meets boy, falls in love, dates all through college, gets married, and *wait for it*… Divorces boy.

Then I spend the next two years grieving over a failed marriage. <<cues up Mary J. Bilges’ “I’m Not Going To Cry“, blazes blunt of that Afghan, sips Pinot>> to say the least, I was a fcking wreck <<insert picture of fcuking wreck>>  

I am ashamed to admit it, but I even thought of several ways in which to ruin my ex husbands career. *yeah, I was on some bitter sour apple b*tch shyt*

I even went through his emails and forwarded out all his philandering emails with other women [See Also: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles, vol 1] to his new main chick.  I must say, that was some of my best work.  I had to show the New b*tch, I mean new chick, nah…I mean bitch:  he cheating on you and you just a couple months in, heaux [See Also: The Sideline Heaux Chronicles, vol 2].  You not special…bwhahaha…But I digress.

As more time passed, I discovered that I was in fact a little girl lost.  I didn’t know what I wanted out of life anymore.  I didn’t know what true love meant anymore.  I questioned everything that I once knew to be fact.  All I knew was that, things changed and they were not for the better.

I spent day in and day out working, hanging out occasionally, and just surviving.  It’s like my life was on auto pilot and Phyllis Hyman was singing the soundtrack to my new life. *and we know how that story ended*  <<cues Phyllis Hyman “Living All Alone”, takes extra long hit of that Afghan, sits down glass of Pinot…picks up bottle>>

And while the days have gotten better, it’s still an uphill battle to find myself again and I’ve currently drawn the following conclusions…

  1. I Don’t Know Shyt About Men…I Admit it…You F*ckas Confuse the Shyt Out of Me.  Some of you ninjas want a quiet submissive woman, some want you to be they momma, and others want you to be a fucking mind reader…I give up…you win…Ill just love on B.O.B till I figure out an alternative…<<insert images of Bullet named Leroy>>
  1. I’m a Strong Punk…What I mean by this is…I cry about everything, yet I manage to pick myself up and get right back on the horse.  At first I thought this showed my weakness, but I have learned it shows my never give up nature. <<cues “We Fall Down” by Donnie McClurkin with strange vibrating sound in back>>
  1. The biggest thing I hate to admit it  *drumroll* As Much as I Want to Say I Don’t Need or Want a Man, I Know That is The Farthest Thing From MY Truth.  I need and want the right man for me. But I have to learn to stop fucking up with the good ones, and allowing the bad ones to stay passed their expiration date. <<insert picture of jobless ex-boo, in dingy, loose-fitting wifebeater, rolling blunt on formica end table>>

I’ve always been told the first step to healing or solving a problem is to admit it.  So here it is.  I am a lost little girl who is trying to find her way in life and love with a broken compass.  I think its time to ditch the compass and actually learn from my mistakes, listen to sound advice from creditable individuals, and trust that tiny voice inside that I have ignored in the past.

~ Aye Red The Ninja

**if you liked this blog, you’ll love: The Basic B!tch Home Testing Kit