Leave Your Hits On The Football Field

If you’ve been reading the news lately, particularly the sports page, you know there is a police report that accuses Rams running back Stephen Jackson of using his powerful stiff arm for more than warding off defenders and assaulted his ex-girlfriend.  According to an ESPN article, his struck his ex-girlfriend to the floor and shoved her into a door…while she was nine months pregnant.  If even a hint of this is true, I have to put this into a new category of “Just Not Manly.”  I might call it “Punk Assed B*tches.”

Now I don’t advocate violence against women, but when a woman is pregnant and carrying your child, that’s a whole new low.

For anyone who’s ever played a physical sport, especially one like football, you know that your aggression and physicality are what make you a success as much as your knowledge of the game.  It doesn’t do any good to know the X’s and O’s if you can’t execute.  I was taught that to be successful you must have the “3 iles”: You must be agile, you must be mobile, and above all…you must be hostile.

I was also taught that once the game is over, you turn it off.  That’s where the man in you has to take over.  You can’t take that same aggression home to the woman in your life, especially if she’s carrying your child.

If a woman just mouths off to you, that’s isn’t just cause to hook off on her off.  If she strikes you, (in most cases) that even that isn’t cause to reply in kind.  Restrain her if you have to so she’ll stop hitting you, but punching her in the mouth doesn’t make you any more a man.

(Note:  I say “in most cases”, because like all things, there are exceptions.  If I’m in the shower and you try to Al Green me by throwing pipin’ hot grits on me, you have just tried to mame and/or kill me.  You might have an unfortunate accident after that.  I might write a blog about it one day.  Let me know what you think.)

If the woman is PREGNANT, that’s something you just have to let go.  Walk out of the house.  Go to a friend’s house and talk.  Go to a sports bar and watch the game.  Do something, but hitting a pregnant woman is out of the question.

Steven Jackson, I’m hoping that what we’re reading is dead wrong, but if it is…you need to more than man up.  You need your punk ass whipped.

Feel free to comment.

When You Leave Me With No Choice…

A man needs to know when to maintain his calm.  It is important not to jump to conclusion too quickly and keep cool in testy situations…

And there’s a time to act a fool.  Yes I said it.

Some people don’t understand rational behavior and logic.  There are some people you just can’t talk to, and they’re usually at the extreme ends of the spectrum:

• Incredibly stupid – They can’t process what you’re saying and it gets frustrating to talk to them
• Incredibly educated – They think they know everything everything and don’t have to listen (basically, they’re classing you as the former)

In these cases, if walking away isn’t an option, you may have to set social protocol aside and show your ass to make a point.

In a previous post, I told you that my son was in the hospital.  They were able to temporarly help with his pain, but aren’t able to find the source. We’ve been told several things from several different specialists, doctors, and nurses.  Instructions from the daytime covering physician are different from the night time physician.   And in the middle is my son, still in pain.

The doctors came into the room to discuss what type of testing we should do. One doctor would put one plan in motion while another would do some thing entirely different on the next shift.  What one nurse told my ex-wife differed from what they told me.

We tried to talk to the nurses and doctors rationally, asking all the appropriate questions and wanting explainations. What we received was the usual generic phrases followed by an air of “we’re the professionals, keep your simple asses out of the let us handle it.”  And for a while, we did.  I mean, they’re the experts, right?  They are supposed to help us.

Doctors would come in the room in huddles to poke and prod while they guessed at what the cause could be.  It seemed that no one had a clue as to what they were doing.  Finally…I had enough…

“THIS SOME BULLSH*T!  YOU MUTHAF*CKAZ BETTER GET IT RIGHT!  IT’S GONNA BE SOME PROBLEMS IF SH*T DON’T GET STRAIGHT!”

For those who know me, usually I’m a soft-spoken fellow who will try to reason with you.  I really do.  I’m an educated man.  A learned man.  But they didn’t respect that. I tried to be polite and no one wanted to listen.

Now there’s a 2000 pound gorilla in the room wishing a muthaf*cka would come out their mouth sideways.

I followed that with other things that I’d rather not say in polite company but my tirade got things moving.  The chief hospital administrator got involved and started to put things in motion.   It was explained how f*cked up our experience was and that he needed to get his people in gear. After that, he got things moving.

So I had to get “ish” and act like I had no home training.  But sh*t is getting done.

Feel free to comment.

A Bengal’s Tale

Picking a good woman is a tough thing to do.  There’s no exact method or way to go about it. It’s as much art as it is science, and no one seems to have gotten it right.

There have been some theories and a few proven testing methods.  I remember a particular scene from “A Bronx Tale” where local mob boss, Sonny, is trying to school his young protegé, “C”, in the fine art of finding a woman.

Sonny: Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her.

Calogero ‘C’ Anello: Just like that?

Sonny: Listen to me, kid. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she’s a selfish broad and all you’re seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast.

I’d like to add one to this.  How about if a woman is willing to drive off while you are in the back of a speeding truck and she keeps going?

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m referring to the sad tale of Cincinnati Bengals’ wide receiver Chris Henry.  He went to his fiancée’s, Loleni Tonga, family’s house and was helping to plan their wedding when something happened that caused Tonga to leave in a hurry.  Henry jumped into the back of her truck as she sped down the street.  At some point Henry either jumped or fell from the back of the truck and died.

She says that she wasn’t driving fast in the 35 MPH zone because he was in the back standing up.  But here’s a thought…how about ya dumb ass stops the truck? How about you get out and see what it was he wanted to talk about?

Any woman who would keep driving when her fiancée is in the back, a man who would take her hand marriage, is a sorry piece of sh*t.  Chris Henry was not trying to remake the movie “Teenwolf” where Michael J. Fox was “car surfing.”  He was not “ghost ridin’ the whip” and asked Tonga to take the wheel (I don’t get the “ghost ridin’” thing, but that’s just me).  He was trying to get her attention. If the neighbor’s account was true, where he heard Henry say that if Tonga didn’t stop the truck that he would jump off and kill himself, she should have stopped the truck.

I don’t know what was said during the argument, but I know that if I’m driving away and someone who loves me and that I claim to love jumps in the back, I’m stopping.  I might be irate and angry but I”m stopping because they are standing in the back of a moving vehicle and they could get hurt.

But I have to put part of this on Chris Henry too. There had to be some signs that she was a sorry ass.  The booty couldn’t have been that good to make him overlook the signs and put a rock on her hand.  There must have been something that he overlooked.  There had to be some signs that this was a psycho b*tch and that she wasn’t wife material.  Henry ignored the signs.

I’m putting my money on the theory that Tonga never leaned over to open the car door.  And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Feel free to comment.

A Nice Surprise

I’m sorry for not posting the last few days.  I’m in Chicago on business and I haven’t been able to get to Man Among Boys as often as I’d like.

When two people have been in a relationship for a long time, sometimes the love gives way to hurt and pain, and that’s when the relationship ends.  Women become more emotional, and men shield themselves and become colder.   There’s a lot of hate, but eventually, even that gives way to understanding. I have an interesting story to tell.

My son has been sick for the last few days.  He’s been impacted  and has stomach cramping severe enough that he’s gone to the hospital the last two days.  My ex-wife and I have never been able to communicate, but when it comes to anything that has to do with our son, we make due.

I had to fly out to Chicago but I wanted to stop by and see him on my way to the airport to make sure he was alright.  I knocked on the door and my ex-wife greeted me with a warm “hello”.  I replied with my usual “hey” and walked in.

I walked into the living room and made my way to the stairs to go to our son’s room. My ex-wife stopped me short and asked me if I wanted something to drink.

“Is it poisoned?”

“No, it’s not poisoned.”

Hmmm.  So she was just interested in making sure that I wasn’t thirsty.  That was strange.  She was being…nice.

For those of you who know me personally know that our relationship and marriage was very rocky to a point that we hated…I mean HATED…each other.  We have designated places for when we pick up or drop off our son because we don’t feel comfortable alone with each other.  Our son has a cell phone so he can call either of us without having to involve the other.

I’ve laid down to sleep and had dreams of watching her take a bath and throwing an electric space heater in.  For Christmas, I thought about getting on some Kill Bill 2 sh*t and giving her a huge box of money wrapped with a big bow…and when she ripped open her present, have a black mamba with a Santa hat on spring out and bite her on the neck.

But this was different. So I decided to go with it for now.

I said thanks, took the drink and headed up to my son’s room.  I kissed him on the forehead, plopped down on the bed next to him, and we played a few Xbox games until I had to head to the airport.  My ex-wife stayed in the room a little while and watched.  All three of us laughed and joked a while, which was really weird because the conversations my ex-wife and I usually have revolve around the words “f*ck you”, “b*tch”, and “drop dead” .

You could see the joy on my son’s face and he looked back and forth at us.  It almost made him feel better.

For those of you saying “Awwww, that’s so nice. They’re made for each other. They’ll get back together”, uh….NO.  There is no reconciliation.  We’re ex’s for a reason.  Our time has run its course.  Maybe we’re realizing that although we’re not good together, that doesn’t mean that we have to hate each other.  I hope she finds someone that is crazy enough to love her.  Two crazy people can stay together forever.

As I got up and made my leave, she wished me a safe trip and told me to call her and my son when I got in to let them know I got there.  Hmm, another act of concern and kindness…gotta be a full moon somewhere.

Or maybe we just turned the corner.  Even after the hurt and pain, we still have a beautiful child to care for.

We’ll see what happens the next time we meet.

Feel free to comment.

From B.D.P To N.I.K.E??

Before we get into the meat of the post, I’m going to tell you that in order to understand it, you have to know something about hip-hop.  I don’t mean that garbage Lil’ Wayne puts out, society’s modern-day obsession with the auto tune (every artist that uses it should pay homage to Roger Troutman), or that commercialized stuff that has the BK King grabbin’ the mic.

I mean real, old school, hip-hop.  Beat Street.  Krush Groove.  Treacherous 3.  Cardboard boxes on the sidewalk.  Furry Kangols.  If you don’t know about this stuff, you can try to keep up, but you might not get it.

I was watching television today and I came across this Nike commercial.  It’s a good commercial, but as soon as I heard “the voice”, I was shocked:

Don’t get me wrong.  I like the commercial.  It’s catchy and will help sell sneakers.  But in case you don’t know, the black Santa is the “blastmaster” KRS-One.

The legendary KRS-One. The leader of the mighty BoogieDown Productions.  The same KRS-One that destroyed the careers of MC Shan and the Juice Crew. The same KRS-One that is arguably the greatest lyricist of all time (I’m more partial to Rakim, but I can understand the argument.)

KRS-One was always the conscious mirror of hip-hop.  He wasn’t in it for the money, but for the art.  He always prided himself on doing it for the love.  He bashed those artists who he thought crossed over to the commercialized side.  In fact, he once threw another group off stage during their own performance for not doing what he coined “real hip hop”.

One of the things I admired about him as a man was that he stood steadfast in his beliefs, whether or not they were popular or even the most lucrative.

And now he’s doing sound overs for puppets???

The only reasons I didn’t put this in the “Just Not Manly” category are:

1. It’s KRS-One.  He’s a legend.
2. I’ll never knock someone for trying to earn an honest buck.  That’s insane.

But I have to question this.  To paraphrase a Lauren Hill lyric, did he gain the whole world for the price of his soul?  Did he sell out the art that he helped create?

Or maybe I just hate seeing good old school hip hop wasted on dancing, shucking and jiving puppets.

To all my old school hip hop heads out there…did KRS-One sell out hip hop?  As a man, did he go against his core principles and turn his back on the house he helped build?  This is something lighter for the holiday season, but it’s getting to me…

Feel free to comment.

To Glance Or Not To Glance, That Is The Question…

More from my trip in the mountains…

We’d been at the resort for a little while now and got settled in before we decided to eat.  We sat down to dinner, eating, talking, laughing, and enjoying a great time.  As we were sharing a joke, something happened to me that happens to most men…

A fine, correct that, very fine looking lady walked past our table.  A gift and a curse; very nice scenery but if you get caught, you know you will hear about it sooner or later.

So I took a look, not even a look really, more like a peek.  And of course…when my eyes came back to the front, hers were fixed on me…and it wasn’t a happy look.

“I can get her number for you if you want it.”  You can guess how the rest of the night went.

We talked about it, and even debated a little later over a drink.  This was actually a sensitive issue for her.  She said I did that a lot and that she was offended by it (in fact I did it last night).

She said it didn’t have anything to do with insecurity, but she thought it was disrespectful for me to even glance at another woman while in another’s company.

In short, “don’t be lookin’ at no other b*tches when you’re out with me.”

(Note: If I called her or any other woman a b*tch, I would get blessed out because it’s disrespectful and women should be placed on high.  But it’s ok for her to call another woman a b*tch.  I’m not itching to have the word rolling off my tongue, but it’s a tad hypocritical, don’t you think?  However, I digress; that is another topic for another time.)

I am an admitted “girl watcher.”  For all the sh*t I talk, I appreciate the female species, and thank the Lord for every day you are on this earth.  If you can’t appreciate the stunning beauty of Gabrielle Union, Kim Kardashian, or Alicia Keys, well, you’ve got issues.  In fact, for the fellas that missed this pic in my Thanksgiving post, it’s worth putting up a second time.  God is good, all the time..

And since I’m not prejudiced or biased, it wouldn’t be right to just show Alicia, now would it…

Now let’s get back on track…

Appreciating the beauty of another woman doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate the company that I’m with, or that I’ll leave you as soon as a bigger ass comes along (I’m more of a breast man anyway).  That just means I appreciate the female species.

Some of the ladies reading may be wondering how I’d feel if an attractive man walked by and you looked.  I think it would be more strange if you didn’t look.  I know there are some handsome men out there; feel free to gawk.  He probably appreciates it, and it’s a nice thing to make someone’s day.  I’m not going to get upset and berate you for looking at someone you found attractive.

If it happens to be a woman you’re looking at, I might invite her over to have a drink with us .

What side of the aisle do you sit on this issue? Are you the type to “handcuff” your man or woman? Do you think a look can lead to more?  Do you think it’s ok to look at another person while you’re in another’s company?  Is it ok to “look at the menu as long as you don’t order?”

Feel free to comment.

The Art Of Fighting Without Fighting

In the 1973 Bruce Lee classic “Enter The Dragon,”  Bruce Lee was confronted on a junk boat by a rude European and outsmarted him using “the art of fighting without fighting.”  Basically, he turned the European’s aggression against by challenging him to leave the junk on a rowboat together to fight on a nearby island.  When the European got onto the rowboat to go to the island, Lee let the boat go into the sea.  He used his brain and defeated his opponent.

The key is to get your opponent out of their comfort zone and take control of the situation.

Chapter 6 of  Sun Tsu’s “The Art Of War” (if you haven’t read it yet, ya slippin’; one of the best books on strategy and philosophy ever written) talks about “Weak Points and Strong”, detailing how your opportunities come from the openings in the environment caused by the relative weakness of your enemy in a given area.  You have to know where you are and who your opponent is.  Lack of knowledge of either leads to defeat.

The same applies in your relationships.  Whether you want to admit or not,  an argument, disagreement, or debate is a conflict.  If you know your opponent, whether they be a co-worker, your wife, or your best friend, you can turn the tables to your favor.

When I worked in Philadelphia, one of my peers was a friendly yet somewhat unprofessional and loud woman we’ll call “Ann.”  “Ann” was very friendly and loved by many, but the key to her power was to act a fool in large groups and take over a situation.  Quite a few times, I allowed her to railroad me and take me out of my game.

The more I worked with her, the more I got to know her habits.  She’d wait for a management meeting or for a crowd to gather on the work floor and show her ass.  An audience to her was like spinach to Popeye; that was her source of strength.  Arguing with her and getting loud in public not only made us both look like fools, but it gave her the advantage.

People gather strength through stability and stability often comes from habits.  Dictionary. com defines a habit as “an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary.”   The next time you’re with lady, friends, or co-workers, observe what they do.

For example, if you keep having arguments with your lady….and losing, try some of the following:

• Sleep on her side of the bed.  People are creatures of habit.  She won’t have the “perfect fit” in the little den she made.  She may have to turn the other way to avoid the window.  If she asks why, just tell her you’d like to see what it’s like.  Then, engage the enemy.

• If you’re the one that always drives, ask her to take the wheel.  Wait until your down the road a little and then bring up whatever problem you’re having.  She won’t be ready for it because she’s not used to focusing on the road and chewing you a new ass at the same time.

• Switch up your style and take a “southpaw” stance.  If she always initiates conversations, attack first and attack strong.  If you usually talk first, lay back and wait.  She knows you’ll want to bring it up and she’ll be wondering why you haven’t spoken. If she asks if you want to talk about it, tell her “maybe later.”

• If they have a favorite chair or spot on the couch, make sure you sit there first and then start the conversation.  You’ve effectively taken away their “power seat”.

These may seem small, but you’d be surprised at how effective they are.  Try this at work.  If you have a meeting and there’s always one person that tries to take over the meeting, get to the meeting early and take their seat.  I bet they won’t be as talkative.

Back to “Ann”.  Her playing to the crowd told me that she needed immediate support and acceptance to be effective.  Head nods, “uh huh”s, “I agree”s.  If  I could separate her from those, she’s finished.

My department began to having problems some people “Ann” managed, so I asked her to come to my office to talk about it.  No crowds, no supporters.  When she asked could it wait until the meeting, I said no and that it was urgent enough to be addressed right now.  “Ann”‘s power was gone now; we were in private and there was no one to perform for.

During our management meetings, whenever she had an issue she wanted to start blasting off,  I replied, “Let’s take that offline.  We can discuss it in my office after the meeting.”  If she caught me in the hallway in front of a group and wanted to cut up, I’d say “I see your concern.  Why don’t you follow me to my office and we’ll talk about it there?”

Notice how it was always my office.  I didn’t want to meet in her office.  There she had control.  She could invite as many onlookers as she liked.  She could show her ass for the world to see in her office.  But in my office…my rules.  I invited no one else and the meetings were always closed-door.  I’d effectively turned the tables.   Her power was gone and I had control now.

Fighting without Fighting.

Feel free to comment.

Dumb B*tches Wanted: Inquire Within

I’ve been thinking about my life lately, particularly my relationships with women.  After much deliberation, I’ve come to one realization:  I need a dumb b*tch in my life.

I used to think that I wanted a woman of education, intelligence and beauty that I could build a life with.  I’m rethinking that plan.  Now, I just want a dumb b*tch with a cute face, big ass, and a nice set of knockers.  Yes, I’m shallow and my requirements are minimal.

Here are the factors in my rational.  Very logical.  Basically A + B = C.  Follow along:

• You need “yin and yang” in a relationship.  Opposites keep balance in the world.  Black and white.  Fair and foul.  Right and wrong.  You can’t have too much of one side or else the relationship tips over.

• Intelligent men are educated, experienced, and learned.  They have viewpoints and opinions.  Intelligent men want to share their intelligence through conversation.  I’m an educated man. I’m an experienced man.  I’m a learned man.  I’ve traveled the world and seen many things.

• Intelligent women are also educated, experienced, and learned, as they should be.  They have viewpoints and opinions (unfortunately). They want to express themselves and add to the conversation.

• Men and women can’t communicate.  The book “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” made millions.  There are people who actually make their living at helping men and women talk to each other.  There are blogs all over the place about relationships.  It’s a well-known fact that the sexes can’t talk to each other.

If it’s been proven that men and women already have trouble communicating, then what the f*ck do I want an intelligent woman for?   All we’re going to do is spend all of our time arguing because we both have contrasting viewpoints and can’t express them in a way the other will understand.  The result is two intelligent people trying to show how smart they are by proving the other wrong and attempting to “one up” each other all night.

If I have to get into a gun fight, I’d rather go up against a .22 caliber than an assault rifle.  Understand where I’m going with this?

Having an intelligent woman is just making my life harder and adds to my stress.  Now I have to sit here and debate over just about everything just because you want to have an opinion.

Therefore, there is only one logical conclusion…I need a dumb b*tch.

Dumb b*tches don’t know what they don’t know.  They can be easily swayed in conversation and agree with just about everything you say because, frankly, they don’t know sh*t.  Some might say that I afraid to have an intelligent woman because she has her own mind, but that’s not true.  Most intelligent women just don’t know how to shut the f*ck up long enough for someone to filter what they’re saying and offer an intelligent counter.

If I want an intelligent conversation, that’s what I have my boys for.  We can go to a bar and talk sports, politics, education, women, economy, and whatever else we want because men can express themselves to other men logically.  Men can talk to men about anything, and if we don’t agree, well, we just “agree to disagree” and move onto the next topic.

Men and women get into arguments over what movie to go see, and that stupid sh*t can go on for hours.

Is it morally wrong that I basically want an empty shell with a beautiful exterior?  Maybe, but if it will keep a happy home, so be it.  That moral void will be replaced with a stress free life.  I’ll carry the burden of intelligence while she plays the role of window dressing.

Some of you may be thinking, “How is she going to teach your kids?”  She won’t.  They’ll do the same thing your kids do – GO TO SCHOOL.  The difference is my kids will be well rested because they’re not kept up from mommy and daddy arguing all night.

Here’s what I want:

• I want a dumb b*tch that if she’s driving and her gas needle is getting close to empty, she speeds up because she wants to make it to a station before she runs out of gas.

• I want a dumb b*tch that she thinks because she says “hola”, that makes her bi-lingual.

• I want a dumb b*tch that thinks a good career move is going from the french fry bin to the register at McDonald’s.

• I want a dumb b*tch that names her child “La-a” and pronounces it LA-DASH-A  (the funny thing is, I actually know of such a case; true story).

If you’re a female, and you don’t understand anything I’ve said here…you qualify.  Leave your name and number in the comments.

And relax, ladies, it’s all in fun.  I’m just kiddin’…mostly .  Feel free to express your thoughts.

Side Piece Rules of Engagement

I was reading Single Black Male today (singleblackmale.net; a good read) and it made me think of an argument I saw not too long ago.  There were two young women and one man that looked like he’d much rather be somewhere else.  From what I could gather, one woman was the girlfriend, the other the side piece, and they were fighting over who got the right to call him their man.

I couldn’t help but think that he broke one or more of the side piece rules somewhere.   Did he make her feel too special?  Did he pour out his heart to her? I don’t know.  But he did something wrong.

But that made me think more.  If you apply the Six Sigma philosophy of the “5 Whys” (ask why 5 times and you usually get to the root cause), you get to the foundation of the matter.  If so many guys are following the side piece rules, why do so many guys get caught?

I know I addressed how to manage a side piece in one of my earlier posts (“Something On The Side”), but maybe I gave you guys too much credit.  I assumed you knew how to get a side piece the right way in the first place.

(Note: again, I do not advocate having a side piece.  If you have a monogamous relationship, stay true to it.  But if you’re going to cheat, dammit, do it right.)

If you don’t get a side piece the right way, you are setting yourself up for failure.  Just like the House of Quality (for some reason, I’m on my Six Sigma today) if you don’t have a solid foundation, the house will collapse.

So I’m going to give you 3 rules that help form the “Side Piece Rules of Engagement.”  They will guide you into getting a side piece the right way.  After that, proper management of the side piece should be a snap. As the late Biggie Smalls said,

I been in this game for year, it made me a animal

It’s rules to this sh*t, I wrote me a manual

A step-by-step booklet for you to get

Your game on track, not your wig pushed back

1 . The Rule of Opposites

Fellas, if you are going to have a side piece, you have to be willing to explore the spectrum of women out there.  Yes, you may have to go outside of your normal comfort zone or race to find a safe side piece.  You are not looking for a soul mate (that’s some bullsh*t anyway) or someone to call your lady; you already have your main girl for that.

Your side piece must be the opposite of your main girl.  If your lady is a diva that needs to get her hair and nails done every week, get a cute ass tomboy that likes sports. If your lady is an ebony soul sista, you should be looking for Pamela Anderson.

(Another note: Pamela Anderson is a fine white woman.  I’d tag that and write an article about it in Essence for all of you to read).

The reason is they are less likely to have the same interests or the same circle of friends.  Just like in math, you want to decrease the probability that Circle A will intersect with Circle B.  You might have to listen to some groups like Nickleback (actually, they’re not that bad) and go to the movies to see some stupid sh*t like Saw VI, but you probably won’t run into your girlfriend while you’re out either.

2.  “Something To Lose” Rule

Whenever possible, get a side piece that has something to lose to.  That means she is in a long-term relationship of her own or is married.  She will be less likely to catch feelings or grab your cell phone and call wifey.  Plus, she already has a man, so she is looking for something on the side herself that doesn’t have commitments.  That’s a win-win.

3.  30 Minute Rule

This rule is very important, probably the most important of any of the side piece rules. If you meet a side piece, no matter how fine she is, no matter how big her ass is, she must live at least 30 minutes away from home base. Minimum.  No one said having a side piece was going to be convenient, but again, the goal is not to get caught.  You don’t want to be out with wifey and bump into the side piece at the supermarket.

In my post “The Mission”, Greenbacker commented that he flew about 2 hours to meet an old side piece.  That’s planning for your ass right there!

You will have to take the side piece out for drinks, to a movie, etc., so you need to be smart about it.  Unless you live in rural America, there is plenty to do by your house, so you and your main lady probably stay local unless you’re planning something special.  In most cases, you probably don’t go more than 30 minutes from home base, especially if you live in or near a big city.  So local isn’t an option for having a side piece.

Another advantage is that the side piece isn’t likely drive 30 minutes from her house to make a surprise trip.  She’s likely to call first to make sure you’ll be there, so you can have your alibi ready.

Again, I don’t condone cheating, but if you have ever had an experience like ol’ boy in the argument, you’re f*ckin’ it up for everybody.  Keep these rules in your wallet and refer to them often if you’re going to have a side piece.

Feel free to comment.

How Do You Make Half A Bed?

Even though this site is primarily for the fellas, there are times when I’ll post something for the ladies.  Ladies, pay attention.

I had dinner with an old friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. That’s always a fun time.  We went out and caught up over crab cakes and a few drinks.

We started reminiscing over some of the good times and conversations we’ve had and we started talking about and old argument he and his wife had.  They’d gotten into an argument over something was wasn’t resolved over a simple conversation or pillow talk.  In the morning, when after they got up and ready for work (they still weren’t talking), he jumped in the shower and came back into the bedroom to find that his wife made her side of the bed and gone downstairs.

Her side.  She made half the bed.  How in the f*ck do you make half a bed?

We laughed hysterically at that.  I love his wife; she is a genuine good person one of the sweetest people you’ll ever come across, but making half a bed??  It probably took more energy for her to make half the bed than it would have to make the entire bed.  She couldn’t express her frustration any other way but wanted to make sure he knew she was angry.

Ladies, there are times when you feel like you need a translator to ask us to take out the garbage.  Perhaps we aren’t clear in what we say so I’m posting this to help you understand us.  Here are a few phrases that will help you talk to your man:

• “I’m a little busy.  Can we talk about this later?” – That means we’re busy and we’d like to talk about this later.  Not that we don’t care, not that we don’t want to hear it.  Just that we are in the middle of something and would like to talk later.

• “No, I’m not upset.” – This one can be confusing.  It means we aren’t mad.  It means that what you just told us doesn’t bother us.  We’re not upset.

• “That looks really nice on you.” – A lot of women don’t understand this one. It means that we really like the way that looks on you.  It doesn’t mean “Damn, that sh*t can really stretch! Whoever invented that is a rich man.”  It means that whatever you’re wearing at the moment looks really good on you.

• “I don’t feel like hearin’ that sh*t right now!” – In other words, shut the f*ck up and leave me alone.  It’s not a subliminal message to keep talking, follow me around the house nagging me to death.

I just realized something…all those things seem like…common sense! Oh sh*t, we mean what we say.  No hidden messages, no decoders needed.  Not rushing to the TV to turn on Oprah to see what advice she can give you on how to talk to your man.  Just rational, up-front communication.

(By the way, it always amazes me how women run to Oprah like she is the patron saint of relationships when she and Stedman can’t keep it right. Ladies, keep listening to Oprah and you’ll stay as single as she is.  I’m only guessing, but you’re not paid like she is, so having a stank attitude and being broke won’t get you a man anytime soon.)

Maybe if you ladies stopped doing dumb sh*t like making half a bad, expecting us to read your minds, or pouting and stewing like a five-year-old, we could communicate instead of acting like a high school couple.

I told my buddy that the next time she makes you mad, only mow half the lawn.  See how she likes that sh*t.

Feel free to comment.