Monthly Archives: October 2012

LOOK AT ME, Im kissing my significant other in my profile pic, we’re in love!




Really tho………………

So now every time you post i gotta see you and yours swappin spit in a dirty project hallway tho? Soo not only do you guys make an ugly couple in real life, I have to be reminded of it every post??


And You know it be the attention whoring ass women who mostly push for these “so in love” pictures, to the point where you must be unfaithful if you dont tuck ur tail in and make the stupid ass kissyface. Smh you know the type, the one when single is always flooding your newsfeed with:

“No time for broke niggas”
“Im about this money, fuck a nigga”
“Miss independent”
“No man, can raise my son better then his MOTHER”

The typical hoodrat belt etiquette we all know verbatim with the duck face pics to go along with the captions.

Then ass soon as she sniff any bit of relationship she all in our face with the ” OMG he is the one” post. Smh then the boo loving pics are posted and then next month the relationship is over and the lonely qoutes start to resurface.

Now i dont have nothing against love, infact its a beautiful thing but these fuckin sappy ass hallmark card, lifetime channel fuckin pics need to DIE! DIE! DIE!


Is when you finally agree to become a Eunuch for the sake of the relationship(the sex) and you end up having to take 100 FUCKIN RETAKES cuz her hair isnt right, she unintentionally looks crosseyed or you just cant seem to shake the unintrested look on your face. Its Sumfuccinbullshid (Bernie mac voice)

I mean, what are you wishing to achieve once posted? Ok.. so you guys are head over heals, and im stuck watchin Robin Byrd old ass, waiting for her to put a dick on her cheek.

You think you better then me?


Damnnnn Brandy, what the f**k happen to you?

Now Let me start by saying this,
I use to love this ole nasally, constant head cold, sounding broad back in the day. Moesha was the shit AND i even took her side with her beef wit Monica, cuz cot dammit that boy was hers and I was that boy!( later Chilli from TLC came to crush the buildings once CrazSexyCool dropped and she was humpin the air in that shiny gray outfit WOOO LAWD)Now…moving along……

So as many know, Brandy took alil hiatus from the R&B game and recently got with sickly built Chris ” i love two girls at the same damn time” Brown to drop a joe dirt shit rock from where ever the fuck she been hiding.( she made sure to hit up the africans on 2 5th for them braids before she appeared tho smh)

Great way to start off my friday huh?……..


For one, I feel there should of been a law in order style voiceover stating this video was shot on location at the local Chinatown Pathmark parking lot. I mean seriously, what was the budget of this video? Shit look like it was recorded with a tracphone. As im watchin the video, i couldnt help but feel like im watching an unofficial video shot by an extra on set, i was jus waiting for somebody to whisper worldstar. I have a relatively sharp ass hd phone screen and this bitches face is blurry as fuck in the opening damn scene!. Now thinking about it, that might of been a directors decision cuz wtf was up with her make up? She must of holla’d at Lauren Hill.

Now lets move on to the actual song.


Off bat, this was def a Chris brown song given to brandy to cover. Chris Brown ghostwriten song + mainstream hippity hop beat = a hit, right? Sheeeeeeeeeit

Chris must of been caught up in his own world, fuckin rihanna while lying to that Amerie knockoff when he recorded this track. Cuz it sounds so half assed its unbelieveable that Brandy chose this to be her lead off, hello world, im back song. She is insulting my intellgence to think ima let her slide throwing this teeny bop, Now 77, music out here after her hiatus.

Sure the hook is pretty catching but damn she was doin her absolute best to sound like chris brown and it weirded me the fuck out. Sounding like a horsed tranny is not whats poppin in these skreets cousin. I could barely make it to Chris Browns actual verse cuz i heard him two verses before and i was starting to catch an epileptic seizure.

Its 2 12 , damn near 2013 and you out here using Darrin Henson( look him up) choreographed moves from a 2002 workout dvd thinkin shit kosher. Shit even Chris was like im not even gon use my best stomp the yard moves for this bullshit.

She needs to give up them tight ass braids, let that Stevie Wonder Hairline relax for a bit and come with some stronger substance.

The Reagan Era. Tale of the hoodrat belt.


The booming crack epidemic of the 80s had quickly ravaged the once proud black communities of the East and West coast. Reagan Era was in full affect and dreams were crushed. No hope, no answers, the black working class regressed to strung out fiends and drug peddlers.
Pakistani immigrant named Ockmed, draped in cheap corner store cologne, reaking of slimeball and baby gold chains , seen this as an oppurtunity to slide another one of his cheap products into the heavily materialistic culture.
While the exact origin of the hoodrat belt is often disputed( some theorist have said, he had backing from a covert CIA operative), Ockmed was heavily credited with the invention and success.
Ockmed’s original hoodrat belts came in an assortment of colors starting with black, white, red and blue. These belts, which sold for 50 cent, were made with the finished toilet paper roll cylinder he found discarded in the garbages of Harlem, which he then unraveled. The unraveled paper roll was then glued to 6 others for a comfortable fit around the waist( everybody was on crack, small waistlines). He then took sharpie markers and colored the tan unraveled paper in the colors he felt would sell the most. He would laugh as he made the belts because he knew the shelf life of these poorly made designs would only be a couple days before they began to break apart. He thought he would sell a couple, get his ass beat , leave town and set up shop in another part of New York. Not one fuck was given.
As he made about 20 belts, which took him upwards to 3months to complete, he took a shopping cart and strolled down 125th st and broadway with his belts hangin over the sides of the cart. What happened next was what turned this smelly man into a legend.
Broke hoodrat bitches instantly fell in love with the cheap belts and were sold out in about 2 hours. And here we are, fast forward to 2012 where the hoodrat belt has become a symbol of ….well being a hoodrat.
(at this point i realized just how stupid this story was)

These belts , which can be found on any poor street corner in America, really allows me to know if a girl im intrested in, aint shit. Usually what comes with these belts are alot of weave wearing, neckrolling, loud gum poppin and blaxploitation style names that end with qua. Now that im older i dont need that type of stress and if shorty rockin a dingy white belt, chances are she need to get FUCK FROM ROUND ME !!

Yo how am i suppose to value your pussy when the exact thing used to keep up the veil of secrecy between me and your labia looks all worn out?

Out chea rockin the Larry Holmes , flabby and sick collection belts? Naaaaaaaa b.
A cheap ass red belt can ruin a girls whole attempt at trying to be wifey type yo. We not in 9th grade no more, pack that shit the fuck up right now and get yourself a grown womens belt .using a dull ass scissor to create extra holes is NOT WOAH. Belt all disintegrating with each step you take and shit. Smh at you belly button starting to itch once you put it on …RESPECT YOURSELF!! Smelling like disappointment.

Awkwardly running into somebody on the train, never ends well.


AINT THAT BOUT A BITCH!!? Now nothing against the actual people i run into when im riding the iron horse but thats like the worse time to be all buddy buddy with somebody you ran into while yall facebook friends and cant even remember the last convo yall had.

In my mind im all like…

But outside im all like…



Inside im all like:


Outside im like:
Mannn its been a minute, hows everything!!? Wow! what a coincidence, we decided to both share our futile existence on the same shitty F train at 6:30 in the morning! Goin to the last stop in Queens, Great!……

Then theres that silence….you start lookin around for an exit strategy, but you quickly realize you really will have to endure a forced convo….ohh noo, social interaction, cant i just keep this to a 140-character limit?? SMFHH

We both know we dont wanna be bothered with eachother but our poker faces are on Lady Gaga level so to avoid lookin like the dick that brings it up, we just keep playing the game…..and the misery just continues on …

You ask all these mundane questions you really dont give two fucks the answer to. In return they give you the typical same shit different day answers or the dreaded broke nigga variations such as: Same shit different toilet, Trying to keep my head above water. Them dirty feet, struggle qoutes.

Outside im like:
Yoo its been a minute where you been tho, we def gotta link n chill.

Inside im really like:
Look, lets just make this as smooth as possible. We wont be chilling, you know it and i know it.(As i slowly count the number of stops i have left)

What makes these interactions so problematic is the constant updating we do to our facebook pages. Maybe if i actually DIDNT know what the fuck you been doing every hour on the hour , our random bump into eachother would be more of a joyous occasion. You know…actually gain something new from the interaction. But instead all im getting are your facebook status’es you’ve made in the last 72 hours in an extented form. Oh how delightful…( let me jus keep this one ear bud in)

Now i gotta act all surprised and intrested that you gotta mixtape coming out thats gonna do Krayshawn numbers when it drops and yadda fuckin yadda. Or that your going to school for communications.( good luck with that)
Cant be life……

Then we subtlely acknowledge and agree that this encounter is a false flag operation Bush would be proud of:
Yeaa , good seeing you and hit me up on facebook! ( no mention of swappin numbers, you know…like if you REALLY Wanted to link up) Both exiting the train, hoping to never see eachother in a one on one setting again.

The moment you run into a girl from your past and its the same day you woke up like fuck it, threw on the struggle neck white t and no haircut to match. Out here lookin like cuddy from the wire. Meanwhile she all decked out fresh to death and YOU JUST KNOW her ass passing judgement like look at this bum nigga, blew ya chance to stunt on the bitch and all lat. Now ya ego all bruised and shit just imagining the bullshit she thinking in her head. Now you like, I BETTER FUCKIN SEE THIS BITCH AGAIN…let me get a do over lol.