Category Archives: People
Random B.S. about B.S. people.
Real Men Don’t Wear Leggings
That’s right. Real me don’t wear leggings. If you get mad at me saying that then you can easily build that one structure people use to get over things. 
I obviously live under a rock or need to either start reading the latest tabloids or watching television. I’m sure I’m weeks behind on the latest absurd things rappers/celebrities wear. Nevertheless, no matter how late I may be, the point is still valid. Men should not wear leggings. It wasn’t acceptable in Robin Hood: Men in Tights and it’s definitely not suitable now. The audacity of it all is the men that wear skinny jeans have the nerve to sag them. What was that Eddie Griffin said? “Saggin‘ is faggin’? Yea, it pretty much is. I’m sure those that partake in this horrible fad don’t know the origins of sagging. It all goes back to prisoners back in the day having nothing to hold their britches up so they sagged. I won’t thoroughly get into that but you get my point.
Either Lil’ Wayne wants someone to poke him and I’m not talking about on Facebook, or he’s totally unaware what he’s displaying to the youth. This is up there with the worst plague known to humanity — it sure as hell spreads like one.
I’m not just picking on Lil’ Wayne, he’s just a good example at the moment.
Just don’t wear pants at all; you already there! Skinny jeans are so tight on women, I can only imagine how a man’s testicles feel. What baffles me, you have on a belt, the skinny jeans are skin-tight, how in the hell are they sagging them? Did he deliberately lay on the bed and sucked in his gut then proceed to hop up and down to get them on and pulled them down below his ass and have the nerve to lace a belt? What’s is this need to show off your ass and drawers to the world? Who cares? You should want to keep that kind of thing under wraps unless you’re on the prowl for someone.
This should be a special on National Geographic.
Leggings, skinny jeans, tights and every other fashion that you got out of the women’s section of Wal-mart need to stay in that section. It’s embarrassing to see a man in the same section of the store as I. I totally refuse to believe that there are people out there making these jeans for men (especially the ones Lil’ Wayne is wearing). Who told him that — hell who told any man that it was okay to wear yeast-infection-bound-to-happen jeans?
I know one thing, if my son EVER came walking in the house with some jeans that look like they belong to me but they’re his, he’s going to wish he was back in the womb.
Related articles
- Tight Squeeze: A Gallery Of Guys That Have Gone FUCKING CRAZY Wearing Skinny Pants!
- SteVe C: Would You Wear Drop-crotch Jeans?
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They Wouldn’t Bust a Grape in a Fruit Fight…
These are obviously birds...
So, today was an interesting day. Mind you, it didn’t get interesting until I was on my way home via RTA. I know you’re wondering who ‘they’ are and I’ll get to that. Let me just give you insight on how crowded these buses are. We have these subway train like buses now, they’re long and if you get in their lane, they’re loud. Well this long bus was packed to the point I could smell what the people next to me ate for lunch two days ago. I was standing and was on one side of the bus next to the door that doesn’t open because people were being let out on the other side of the bus. Well a few stops after I got on, these 4 and obviously naïve birds-erm “women” got on the bus. They’re loud as hell and it’s obvious they were about 18 or 19; with my eyes closed they were 10; if that. Either way, they knew better.
Cleveland RTA Buses
These birds [I really want to call them birds because they were clucking and bucking like those women on 'The View'], they were talking about anyone that they found visually annoying to them that got on the bus. Mind you, I’m RIGHT there next to them. It took all the life and energy I had left to not smack them into the next millennia with my PSP. Anyway, they take one look at me and just decide that today of all days to talk about me. I’m standing there with my balloon and gift bag I got from my family for my birthday and they looked at me up and down. I saw all of this out the corner of my eye. I continued being an adult, they continued to be the children that they are. I guess they weren’t getting the response they were expecting from me because I have on my PSP listening to music. So the chunky bird decide to yell out “Someone smells like cigarette smoke and it’s giving me a headache”. The other 3 start laughing at what she said. What does this have to do with me? Let me tell you. I was in a Jamaican spot that my grandmother told me to try. They had these really strong incense going and it was going to take 7 minutes for my fish dinner to get done [it was really good by the way]. So I left for 5 minutes and came back and they still weren’t done so I waited. What floored me was the fact they couldn’t decipher between cigarette smoke and incense. So I stood there and let the coonery continue.
As I got closer and closer to my destination, my will to keep being an upstanding citizen was being tried forcefully. One of the chicks told one of the bald-headed birds to “smell” me. Really? You gone jump off a cliff into some jagged rocks if she tell you to? She already got you out on a perch tweeting. So they continue to act a fool and so when my stop came, I purposely bumped into them, and at the same time I cut my volume down on my PSP and walked off the bus, they didn’t say a damn word.
My point of this blog is, women like the ones I ran into on the bus; alone they’re quiet as church mice; wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight, but in a group they’re the loudest New York rats on the corner. These type of women run in cliques because they wouldn’t survive alone. They have to go along with what everyone is doing and saying because they don’t have a mind of their own. They could be best friends and hate each other; despise each other even. People like that don’t live long but they got their heads shoved so far up their asses they won’t even notice when karma makes a visit. It’s too much like right for my kind to be civilized to each other. It’s pretty much taboo. I’m sure one day, they’re going to get on that RTA bus talking foolishly, and someone is going to take notice to them talking about people and they’re going to turn them every which way but loose.
What I notice about one of these chicks was she was staring at me and I could feel her staring at me, then she took it a step further and start rolling her neck at me, I turn and look at her, stare her and her friends down and she looks away. Listen, you were deprived from the attention you so desperately wanted as a child, don’t get your ass mopped up and down this bus. I might be doing the bus a favor because it was filthy. I’m 24 today, the younger me wouldn’t have gave a shit about no “Transit Police carting me off their bus into the back of their car. Nor would I had cared if the birds jumped me, I was going to tag one of them. I’m too old for that kind of crap. I have a son and a husband now, I have to set an example. Violence isn’t the answer, especially since they didn’t touch me. If they would have though…
So the conclusion to this blog is, chicks [yes I'm still referring to birds], in groups aren’t the same alone. The main ones that got so much to say about someone is branching out from their insecurities. One day they’ll grow up, but that will be asking for too much. All I can do is shake my head and keep it moving. Their words won’t be paying my rent, or clothing my son.
Like this:
Dead Island: Lack of Vsync Option
Go to Documents\DeadIsland\out\Settings.
You will see something like this:
!Resolution(i,i)
!WindowOffset(i,i)
!Monitor(i) // -1 primary monitor
!BPP(i)
!FSAA(i) // Full Screen AntiAliasing, 0 – none, higher is better
!TexBPP(i)
!TextureQuality(s) // VeryLow, Low, High
!Filtering(s) // Bilinear, Trilinear, Anisotropic, AnisotropicTrilinear
!GammaFloat(f)
!MaxRefresh(i)
!Shadows(s) // Low, High
!ShadowMapSize(i)
!SpotShadowMapSize(i)
!Lightmaps()
!Fullscreen()
!VSync() // enable vertical sync
!MaterialQuality(i) // lower is better
!WaterQuality(i) // lower is better
!GrassQuality(i) // lower is better
!FXQuality(i) // higher is better
!FXFadeLevel(i) // 0-4 (lower is better)
!EnvQuality(s) // FullDynamic, RareDynamic, Static
!ShaderPath(i) // 0 – 1.1, 1 – 1.4, 2 – 2.0, 3 – 3.0, 4 – x360, 5 – 4.0, 6 – ps3
!PostProcess(s) // Simple, Normal
!DisplayDeviceType(i,f,f,f,f) //device type (LCD TV etc.): 0 – default
!Curves(s) // curves texureResolution(1920,1080)
Monitor(0)
BPP(24)
FSAA(0)
TexBPP(32)
TextureQuality(“High”)
Filtering(“Trilinear”)
Fullscreen()
Shadows(“High”)
ShadowMapSize(1024)
SpotShadowMapSize(1024)
Lightmaps()
GammaFloat(1.00)
MaxRefresh(60)
MaterialQuality(2)
FXQuality(3)
FXFadeLevel(2)
WaterQuality(2)
GrassQuality(0)
EnvQuality(“FullDynamic”)
ShaderPath(3)
DisplayDeviceType(0,0.000000,1.000000,1.000000,1.0 00000)
Edit video with a program like Notepad. In the bottom section add it like this
Resolution(1920,1080)
Monitor(0)
BPP(24)
FSAA(4)
TexBPP(32)
TextureQuality(“High”)
Filtering(“Trilinear”)
Fullscreen()
VSync()
First Real Post: Death
What is it about death that has people “quivering” with fear? I know what a way to open a blog right? Eh it is what it is. I digress. So I wonder why people fear death. It seems as though because it has a negative connotation attached to it that it’s taboo or makes it just that much more to be feared. For me I embrace it. It’s nothing to fear nor anything to be stand-offish about. It’s not something I believe to be taboo, rather to be embraced and all that it entails. I’ve also been thinking on suicide and why people view it as such a bad thing. I see it as the ultimate release/ freedom. The only down side is the fact that I view it as being the ultimate from of selfishness. Like if I didn’t actually give a rats ass about the people I love then I’d certainly do it. When you die, people “may” morn for a while, however you will soon be forgotten. It will go from thinking of you consistently, to every now and then, to once a year maybe. Why? Even when you die of “natural” causes it will be the same way. Morn for a bit, remembered, then forgotten. So what’s the difference between suicide and natural death? For me I see no “real” difference other than people think when you take your own life it’s a bad thing and for those “religious” folk you will go to that place where and evil red man will have is way with your soul for allllll of eternity. That in and of itself is laughable!! Again I digress. To me it seems that life PERIOD is a big FUCK YOU that you consistently either try to get away from, or make the raping a bit easier by finding lube when and where you can. Shits sad and I’m truly tired of it. I’ve thought on death before however not with such clarity. It’s like clear why it’s okay and nothing to fear. If you haven’t noticed I don’t see much wrong with it at all. It’s fucking awesome to me. Again, I digress. This whole I idea of “The pursuit of happiness shit?! It’s for the fucking birds! Why do I view it as such you ask? Well I thank you for your interest. Let me shed some light on that for you. You are constantly on a fucking grind behind the 8 ball trying to make sense of things. Who is truly happy now-a-days? Money makes no one happy, so what is true happiness? We constantly run after it like rats in a maze never to actually obtain it or, to have it for only so long then lose it, only to start from the beginning. It’s like hitting reset on your game before reaching a save/check point. Fuck that! It all seems to be a big joke to me. Seems as though we are here, no real resources, and someone says “do the best you can” all while “taking notes” from a distance or behind some two-way glass mirror. The thought of my life being one big LOL doesn’t really sit well with me. I just think differently and not in the norm. In summation, death isn’t such a huge deal. Its peaceful, empty, freedom, what’s the big deal? ~Tis All~
Like this:
I didn’t see it ending like this…
Living out here in Euclid, Ohio is very depressing. I’m living with someone who leaves and comes back smelling like the smoking section in a restaurant. I look out the windows and all I see is water and parked cars. I’m trapped here. I can’t catch the bus, don’t have an outlet and if I do leave, there’s a chance I won’t be able to get back in, so I just stay in this bedroom and watch House all damn day. I had appointment last week and you know what my Significant other did? He waited til the ride gets here to tell me he couldn’t go. I was in SO much pain that day. By the time my appointment was over and I managed to get back to the building I was crying. Then I got angry because this nonchalant ass of a SO I have had the nerve to ask me whats wrong. I WAS JUST IN THE DAMN HOSPITAL FOR THIS PAIN!!! The least you could of did was help me walk on the slippery sidewalks. You couldn’t even come downstairs and tell me you couldn’t come. Oh but when I come back upstairs in the apartment, it smells like weed. So, you mean to tell me the person that was supposedly dropping something off couldn’t had waited? I’m carrying your son, not some god damned XBOX!
That’s not even the kicker. I fell twice on my way to the grocery store today. I had to walk to the store to get milk and bread because it’s like “every man for himself:” in this apartment. My living conditions are no little difference if I was still staying where I was before. The ONLY difference is no one is threatening to choke me out because they’re frustrated. I’m even more depressed now than I was before my appointment. I have no support and soon no phone. The only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off this 17th floor balcony is my son. I wake up wanting to die, go to sleep wanting to die. When I eat, I want to die. When I look at him I want to FUCKING DIE! It is so true that you don’t know a person until you’ve actually lived with them. Well if he thinks I’m mean then he’s Dr. Jekyll; and Mr. Hyde.
I can just feel my life spiraling out of control and it’s just getting worse. To tell me to look at someone’s life and their problems is not going to make my situation any better. All that’s going to do is make me call you an ass. It’s so easier said than done to just let things go or to simply “keep the peace”. Nothing gets aired out, nothing gets talked out because 9/10 I’m the one with the problems and no one else. I’m at fault for all the tears shed and bouts of depression. People don’t realize that, I don’t have anything and when something of mine is stolen or broken, I’m going to be upset. I don’t care how little it is. My family left me with nothing on numerous occasions. They’ve stole, sold and given away everything that had value to me. So for someone to sit there and take advantage of me is like spitting in my face.
He always want me to make sacrifices and compromise. Why? You’re sitting on your ass smoking away every dime you make. The house need things and all you can think of is buying PS3 pieces so you can fix it, play it and MAYBE sell it. You’re gone right now, haven’t told me a damn thing like you normally don’t. You just up and leave and expect me to be okay with it. Now if the shoe was on the other foot you would want to know where I was going. Why can’t I get that same damn respect? Why do I HAVE to ask you where you’re going? Why do I have to scream to get you to get up? & You have the nerve to want to marry me? No, I don’t think so. You’re already married. You’re married to your weed, friends and broken computer parts of every sort. If this is how you treat “the love of your life” I would hate to see how you treat your enemies.
What a shame it is to be Asilee. All she has is her online friends and blog to vent things out. The only thing I don’t have to worry about is my blog will always be here. I won’t be able to get any back massages or foot rubs but hey you don’t give em either. It’s sad that I’m another black single mother now. Being with you isn’t making me happy. I don’t need you to make me happy. All you’re doing is showing me how you’re going to be if we were married. Before that train takes off, I’m going to make sure I’m on it.
You’ve made a lot of broken promises and told me you were going to do this that and the other for me. I just sit and wait. You never come through. I don’t hold that against you, you have other poor qualities that I can do that with. I’m not perfect, I sure as hell don’t try to be. I know my flaws and the emotional battles I go through. You don’t even come to me for anything besides “can I borrow your PSP?” or “Can I burn this disc?” oh and “Can I play Mass Effect 2?” Other than that, you couldn’t care less what I’m going through. Well today is the last straw. I will not allow you to keep stealing from me and taking advantage of me. You ask me “can we talk?” when I already know what that translates to “I’m going to take this advantage to get you all upset and walk away, and while I do so, I’ll be saying my signature line ‘whatever you say’; yea that should get you even more pissed”.
I don’t know, maybe I’m being too ‘emotional’ due to hormonal changes. Maybe I’m just tired of being walked all over or taken advantage of. I don’t know about anyone else but if someone takes things from me without asking then wait till I find out about it and expects me to be okay about it is obviously crazy. I’ve always had trust issues; not allowing anyone get too close to me. I used to be the type that gave their last until I realized I was being taken advantage of. Now I have to pretty much put my things up or hide them altogether. I can’t have money, computer parts, consoles, hand-helds etc to myself and if I say no then I’m the ‘asshole’.
Call me all the names you can muster; until you turn blue in the face. I don’t care. The only thing that matters now is having a healthy pregnancy and I won’t have that some place where there isn’t any food or anyone who can help me get things from the store so I won’t fall on my ass walking 10 blocks to the nearest store.
I have a good friend who told me that things will get better. It seemed like every time he said that to me things just got worse. I don’t know what to do or to think right now. I just know that I’m tired, been so for 17 years. Looks to me, I’m going to have to be dead to get a piece of mind. Why I survived those 7 car accidents, cancer scares, being jumped, thrown across a room due to frustration by a enraged man that is my brother amongst various mental abuses on so many occasions I don’t have the foggiest. I do know that life isn’t always going to be like this for me. It’s going to be a month where I can bear to look at myself in the mirror and like what’s looking back at me. I’m going to get solitude if I have to leave Ohio and never look back.
I’m so close to just walking away from everything now. I’m almost pushed to my limit once again. I’m almost ready to give up on living once again. I’ll just have to look at my ultra-sound pictures and feel his kicks and jabs to keep from making a noose and sliding it around my neck hoping this time someone don’t walk in on me.
I didn’t walk and fall on my ass today for me, I didn’t risk getting sick again for me. I did it for my unborn son. The only thing that’s keeping me going. the only reason why I wake up in the morning. He needs food not me, he needs a stress-free environment, not me. Too bad you don’t see it that way and for that, you can kindly and swiftly find you a spot in whatever hell you believe in.
I apologize for my colorful language but I honestly don’t give a rats ass any more. Damn what anyone thinks of me too.
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Leave the Burning House: A Letter to Single Black Women
If you woke up in the middle of the night, choking to the smell of smoke, and opened your eyes only to see that your curtains, walls, ceiling and dressing table were engulfed in fiery, white hot flame — as your lungs burned as you gasped for air — what would you do?
What if your partner who was lying in bed with you looked you straight in your face and said: “What flames? What smoke? The problem is not that bad. Go back to sleep.” … all the while you clearly smell your hair getting singed by the overwhelming heat of the tongues of flames that were disintegrating your headboard… What would you do?
If your mama called you on the phone and was saying, “It’s all your fault. You should have turned that space heater off like I told you to. You made your bed, now lie in it!” while you watched the flames creeping up your bed linens, what would you do?
If the television (now smoking, flickering on and off, and throwing sparks of electricity) had the latest “expert” on, teaching that someone in your position should take that half-drunk glass of water on the bedside table and try to put the house fire out with it… what would you do?
If every self-help book on your shelf told you to feel free to play with the fire, enjoy the fire – but just protect yourself by wearing flame-retardant nightgowns in the process… what would you do?
If the entire world stood outside your window and told you to sit tight and be strong while your pajamas ignited with white and blue-hot flames, while you watched in horror as your skin began to melt like chocolate ice cream on a blistering hot Florida day… what would you do?
You would do what any sane, self-preserving person would do:
YOU WOULD LEAVE THE DAMN BURNING HOUSE!
And yet – maybe you wouldn’t.
Black women all across this country are in a situation that is every bit as dire and urgent as trying to live in a burning house, but we allow ourselves to be consumed and destroyed by it on a regular basis.
We aren’t crazy. We are naïve. We aren’t stupid. We are incredulous: we simply cannot process the incredible, unfathomable, mind-blowing reality that the entire world is lying to us about what we are seeing and experiencing. It’s too mentally overwhelming to face the awesome, hideous, truth: we are headed for annihilation and the world is enjoying the show.
Mothers and daughters, sisters and aunts – black women of every hue and shade, are being relegated to ‘untouchable’ status – slated to become complete social pariahs, presented as the ugly, unlovable, jealous, bitter step sisters to the gleaming white Cinderellas of other races – and as a result, black women are the most un-partnered, the most abandoned, the most violently oppressed demographic on earth.
Yet if you howl in pain from the consuming fire, even other black women will tell you to shut up. No, you aren’t seeing things. You are being lied to by the entire world.
Black women – you must understand that in order to live, you must stop asking for permission to survive, because consent will not be given. You must take your survival by force.
You are not alone. You are not crazy. You are in a burning house and the lack of oxygen has previously clouded your judgment. Your only hope for survival is to ignore what everyone else is saying, and GET OUT.
[source]
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Why must Blacks conform to the whites way of life in order to be considered successful?
You hear all these people talking bout black people don’t know how to spend money. How we ‘waste’ money on certain things. I was watching ‘I think I Love My Wife‘ and they was saying “spending money on spinning rims, you would think Steven Spielberg has spinning rims”. Just because white people don’t put money into rims, and expensive cars, does that make it wrong or something? Why is ‘making it’ equivalent to living like white people? Apparently ‘street dreams‘ are considered ignorant just because a young black male wants to be a basketball player football player or some sort of entertainer, why is that wrong? In a sense it is wrong because most if not all have that ‘get-rich-quick mentality and very seldom it works out how they play it out in their heads. Anyway, why is it considered right only if he wants a ‘safe’ career?
since when has individuality and ‘the sky is the limit ambitions’ flew out the window? Why must we conform to the whites way of life in order to be considered successful?
Is it because they don’t expect much from us besides what they see on BET? Not only is that foolish but simple-minded. I seen some white guy with a Volkswagen Beetle yesterday with huge 22″ rims on it and sounds that should of been in a bigger car. He is pretty much living what other whites besides him would call ‘a wasted lifestyle’. I’m sure his peers probably think because he didn’t have to sell drugs or rap to get those things, he’s considered successful. That’s bullshit. Destroying your car with concrete cracking sub-woofers and putting abnormally large rims on a tiny ass car isn’t successful, it’s absurd. If anything, I feel sorry for the car. What I’m pretty much saying is, how can the average black guy’s lifestyle be wrong to anyone who isn’t black but when they do it, it isn’t?
I’m not on the fence here. Wasting money no matter who does it is pretty stupid. You can be black and have chrome rims and sounds that can stop a heartbeat or white and I would look at you the same way. Except one is actually a nigga and the other one is trying to be one; and pretty much achieving that feat. The only other difference in that is, one will get pulled over, and the other one won’t.
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Pregnant with Ex-Boyfriends Baby
Let’s say you have a boyfriend, that you love a lot. Certain circumstances in the relationship causes you to not see your 
boyfriend as often as you like. You talk to him on the phone, or via internet; barely get to see him at all. His life is full of work and no play. Your ex-boyfriend see more of you than you see your boyfriend. As time go by and you see less and less of your boyfriend, during this time, your ex-boyfriend has pretty much moved in with you. Feelings begin resurfacing and one thing leads to another. You pick this day to lay down and have sex with him. Few weeks go by and your period haven’t come. Come to find out you’re pregnant. You’re not mad, or sad. You want to tell your ex-boyfriend the news, so you do. He’s really happy about the pregnancy and think you should come clean to the guy you supposedly love.
So you call him and he’s happy to hear your voice because his day have been tiring and you’re exactly what he needed to make his day better. You smile a little; you look down at your stomach and rub it. Before you can get a word out, he goes on and on about how much he misses you and wish he had more time to spend with you. He then goes on and say that you should move in with him. You sit there quiet and hope he doesn’t notice the awkward silence between you and him. He waits for you to respond; it’s only been 2 seconds since the awkwardness but it feels like minutes.
“Listen, can we meet some place? I really want to talk to you. We can talk about all of that then”. You get his hopes up and his day again has gotten that much better. You can feel him smiling through the phone. Wondering why he didn’t catch onto the uneasiness in your voice; you conclude that because since you guys were never really around each other, he was pretty much naïve to the fact. He sets up a day to meet and ends the phone call with “I love you” and “I’m sorry that I’ve neglected you”. You hang up and you sit there looking at your cell phone, wondering if this was a good idea. “Maybe I should have just forgotten about him. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed I moved on as busy as he is“. It’s not guilt that’s driving you to do this but, morality. The guy loves you and you love him. As much as this will hurt him, you only feel that it’s right to tell him.
You’ve always had a special place in your heart for your ex. He pretty much never left your life; heart, body, mind and soul. For some reason, you can’t even recall why you left him but at the same time you know he’s ‘ex’ for a reason. At this point, that rule no longer apply. Your ex-boyfriend enter the room that was just occupied by you and your thoughts. He stood there with a concerned look on his face. You look up at him and smile. He walks over to you and grabs your hand. “Come on, it’s time for bed”. You let him guide you to bed and of course, it wasn’t really time for bed. He just wanted to make love to you again. Love; and bliss was in the air. It was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. He whispers in your ear, “You’re my everything, I’m sorry and I promise I’ll make it up to you. I love you”. With that, you fall asleep.
The next morning, you wake up to the sounds of soft melodies on your favorite soul & R&B radio station. You sit up on the side of bed, stretch and prepare to break a heart. You contemplate over and over if this was the right thing to do while you’re in the shower. You finally set in your mind that it is after you’ve dried off and prepared to lotion up and get dressed.
You head back to the bedroom to kiss your sleeping lover a temporary goodbye. “I guess 8:30 in the morning is the only slot opened on his calendar today“, you mumble to yourself as you’re leaving the house. You’re walking to the park up the street; the same place where you met your boyfriend. You look around and don’t see him yet so you look down at your watch. “It’s still early, I guess I can either go back home or wait for him here.” You decide on the latter and found a bench to sit on. You look around and notice the park is pretty empty. There’s only an old woman sitting on a bench on the far side of the park knitting and a guy that looks like he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s playing fetch with his golden retriever. “I should have brought a book with me, time seems to be crawling by“. You grow anxious and impatient sitting there. By now you’re convinced to just stand him up and wait til he call later that day and tell him that way; or not tell him at all.
You get up and turn to leave the park because it’s 8:40 and you’re sick of waiting all to hear his voice calling you from the other side of the park. The old woman on the bench looks up at him with a take-your-ass-over-to-her-instead-of-screaming-and-waking-the-neighborhood-up, look. You walk to him and he gives you a hug but you barely hug him back. You smell his cologne and almost wanted to keep from breaking his heart. “It has to be done“. You sike yourself up in your mind to tell him. He suggest you go to a more secluded part of the park so you and him could talk. You find a nice quiet place next to the pond with a bench. You sit down and he follows. He’s grinning from ear to ear; so happy to see you. You can barely look at him, you really want him to stop smiling because soon enough he will.
Before he could get a word out this time you speak up. “Listen, I got something to tell you. I know this is going to hurt you but I really don’t care.” The smile on your boyfriends face immediate disappears. He sits and wait for the bad news. You inhale loudly. While you’re exhaling you nonchalantly say, “I’m pregnant, it’s not yours of-course, it’s my exes.” You look at him with no emotions expressed on your face. He look up at you and you could swear if pain was in living human form, he depicted it flawlessly. He stood up and you followed. He walks to the pond and skips a few rocks across it; you watch him. He walk back over to you and sighs, while rubbing his temples. “So, you cheated on me and you’re pregnant. Couldn’t you have told this to me on the phone?” You shrug your shoulders like some kid who just got caught stealing from a candy store knowing you had money to buy what you stole. You look down at your shoes thinking it’s time for a new pair. “I figured it would be better this way, you know?” He shook his head, reached in his pocket and threw a little box at you and walked away.
You pick up the little box, opens it to see an engagement ring inside. Tears well up in your eyes; now you feel guilty.
What happened?
Like this:
If you need a forklift to leave your house, I have no sympathy for you
Please save your “I’m fat because it’s a disease” excuses. There is no reason as to why people sit on their asses and do nothing but eat themselves to oblivion. You may have other problems as to why you’re so big you can’t leave your house but I’m sure you didn’t start that big. 
I’m sorry if you get offended but you can’t blame anyone but yourselves honestly. Especially those who sit and do absolutely nothing to get rid of the weight. Drinking Diet Pepsi may ease the guilt but it won’t help you.
You want to get mad at people when you get charged for two seats when you fly, or get upset when you’re over the maximum capacity to ride a roller coaster but you’re too damn lazy to drop the damn burger.
Just look at it this way, you won’t be the butt of everyone’s jokes. You’ll be able to leave your house without a hitch. You won’t need that forklift at all. You’ll be able to wear leggings and spandex. Lets get one thing clear about that. Wearing spandex is a privilege, not a right. Anyway, you’ll be able to wear just about anything without it looking like you have midget’s stuffed in every nook and cranny.
If the reason as to why you’re fat is because you’re depressed, or you have low self-esteem; all that will go away when the weight go away. Getting bigger will not make it better. Also, just because your thighs and legs are the size of a baby hippopotamus doesn’t mean you’re ‘thick’. Yes, I’m talking to you fatty! You’re thick in a sense but not in the sense I’m describing. You want to know why they don’t use obese women in music video‘s? It’s because it won’t be any room left for anything else. You’ll take up the screen.
Let’s clear the airway, if you have a thyroid problem, or you’re full of tumors then you have my sympathy; but it’s not like you need it. There are those out there who don’t have any problem but an eating problem and they’re crying and bitching about being too fat. Drop the Twinkies and the Ho-ho’s and pick up a dumbbell. I know it’s easier to say it than to do it but if you aren’t doing a damn thing about it then it’s your fault.
If you’re one of those types that think being over-weight is sexy, let’s see how long you think that when you end up having a heart attack. Furthermore, there is no such thing as ‘big boned’, if anything that’s an excuse.
Theist Trolls & the Racist Trolls, This is for you.
I know I shouldn’t feed the trolls and just let them be. I know all this is going to do is piss them off, because they’re simple-minded enough to allow it to but I don’t care. So this goes out to you ‘Nigger Hater’, JT, karl lumbardi and the like.
Don’t feel flattered because I’m taking time out of my day to address your idiocy. This blog is only going to take a few minutes. After this I won’t give your font or wasted keystrokes the time of day.
Theist Trolls:
You lack the brain capacity hell, even the energy to think outside of the box. Asking questions that you yourself cannot answer makes me wonder why are you even a Christian. Those that tell me and other Atheists that comment on this blog that they’re going to burn in ‘hell’, does that get you through the day? Your balls grown any bigger since then? That’s towards both genders by the way. I mean you have to have balls to be that dense. I’ve actually received complaints from my other readers that are Christians. If your own kind can’t stand you, I would hate for you to have kids.
I’m pretty sure there are idiotic Atheists that go around and try and convince that your religion is crap but I’m not one of them. Don’t take out your frustrations on all of us. The moment you tell me my anti-religion is crap is the moment I tell you why your religion is crap. Get it through your head that people have a right in how they live their lives on this planet. Not everyone is forced into religion. If they were, it would be slavery. They are not, so it is servitude. Religion is slavery to a god, that to this very moment in time has not been proven to exist. So, if you don’t mind, can you please keep your depressing scriptures and e-Holy water to yourself? Nothing you can say will make me delete my blog, no matter how hard you try.
There are many reasons why I don’t believe in God and one reason is if God created us then who created god? But what people say as the answer to this is hilarious they say, “God was always there”. That’s bullshit in vocal form. Besides if I went door-to-door trying to spread the word of Atheism, I’d probably be arrested. So, why is it perfectly legal for religious groups to send their slaves to my door? Also, if you renamed “God” to be “Gravity”, then at least you’d have an invisible force that kept everything together.
Question to the Atheists:
What’s your favorite moronic “proof” that God exists? Mine is the Banana. I saw a video on Youtube where some numb-nut explained how the fact that the banana fits into a human hand proves that God created everything.
I would have to say if bananas are proof of God’s existence, he must be a pretty crap creator. Bananas are nice, but the bloody things go brown if you so much as look at them.
Racist Trolls:
You guys are hilarious! You picked the wrong person if you think I will get upset about your racial garbage. I always say that you’re the very thing you’re comfortably calling me behind a computer monitor. Desk-chair thugs never ceases to amaze. You sit there, uncomfortable in your own skin of course and, take notice to my skin color and begin to feel good about who you are all of a sudden; its so great I can make you feel that way. I’m flattered your self-esteem and self-confidence was so low, you have to call me a nigger to get a boost. It’s okay, I saw straight through your sad attempt to feel significant. You would feel more significant about yourself if you actually done something significant in your life. I assume right away that your life must suck really bad that you have to dwell on people that were brought here against their will. Shouldn’t you be mad at your ancestors and not us? Exactly!
You can write a check, pay a bill, scream, kick, make signs, break your keyboard from the amount of niggers you use on a daily basis but, we aren’t going any where. We’ll still be here until you turn blue in the face. You honestly have no one but your ancestors to blame for that, so the joke is really on you. Oh don’t kill me with that “you could have went back to your country” bullshit. Sorry but I like this one better. They hate American-bred Blacks more than you supposedly hate niggers. We can’t seem to win for losing huh? If you haven’t noticed by now I’m being sarcastic.
I’m sure there are 50 items in or around your house that was invented by someone African American. Hell, rock music wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for us; some of the credit can go to the bigots as well because if you didn’t do what you did, we wouldn’t have much to sing the blues about huh? Your ancestors try to keep us oppressed even after being freed and looked what happened? We were determined to be someone and stand up against your bullshit. Which is why the shit blacks are doing to day is a damn shame. If you hate today’s generation of blacks; doing all the killing, drug dealing, stealing, etc then I don’t blame you, I don’t like them either. My point is, you can call me a nigger but that don’t make it true. Makes you a bigot and it makes me laugh.
Like this:
The Difference Between Being Black & Being a Nigga
I’m going to just get right to it, this blog don’t need an introduction. Oh but wait let me me define nigga for you naive imbeciles. A nigga/coon is basically an ignorant Black individual hell-bent on being no more than a statistic.
Being Black:
Empowerment and Self-determination is what differs from a Nigga/coon! White folks so used to telling us who we are, labeling us like property for hundreds of years, just can’t seem to wrap their brain around that concept. Black people have risen over the years of oppression – have gotten on their feet refusing to fall again. Refuse to be labeled as a nigger – so they go out and do something about it, they go to school; educate themselves. They look to BET to get their comical relief but not to take what that channel depicts what Black people would prefer as entertainment at face value.
They work hard for what they want and get exactly what they deserve.
Contrary to what many may think, there is a difference between Black
people and nigga’s.
Black people spend thousands of dollars on higher education and seethe value of owning real estate.
Nigga’s spend thousands of dollars on getting high and are concerned only with keepin’ it real.When Black people have children, they try to get better paying jobs to make sure they can support their child.
When nigga’s have children, they change jobs to avoid paying child support.
Black people appreciate you being helpful.
Nigga’s think that they can keep using you without appreciating your kindness and they even look at your kindness as weakness.
Black people raise their children and spend quality time with them.
Nigga’s don’t know what they should do for their kids.
When Black people have children, they invest in college plans, piano lessons and braces.
When nigga’s have children they invest in designer clothes, platinum jewelry and mini-Air JordansBlack people watch out for their neighbors and understand the importance of strong neighborhoods.
Nigga’s watch their neighbors, and look for an opportunity to take advantage of their weaknesses.Black people appreciate the sacrifices made for them by, their families to help them get ahead in life.
Nigga’s will sacrifice their Families and steal from them in order to get their next high.
Black people work hard to improve themselves.
Nigga’s are happy with what they can get by being who they are.
Black people work through their problems with each other and come to an understanding.
Nigga’s get upset at a little misunderstanding and stay mad for 20 years.
Black people try to manage their money and work out a plan for the future.
Nigga’s live day by day and let their money manage them.
Black people are beautiful.
Nigga’s act ugly.
Black people appreciate expensive jewelry designer clothes and nice cars but realize that they don’t make the person…
Nigga’s define themselves by their designer clothes platinum jewelry and nice cars.Black people shoot cameras at social events
Nigga’s shoot guns at social events
Black people will know the people at their local bank branch by first name.
Nigga’s will know the people at the neighborhood check cashiers and liquor store by first name.Black people see hard working brothers and sisters with legitimate jobs as potential mates.
Nigga’s won’t even look at you if you’re not a hustler, baller or a bad ass bitch.Black people read books, newspapers, novels, articles to gain knowledge.
Nigga don’t read and prefer to be misinformed by the television
Black people will work hard to be innovative or to build something out of nothing.
Nigga’s will work hard at getting something for nothing.Black people will read this and be sort of sad.
Nigga’s will read this and be mad.
Black people work hard all week and then go out on the weekend to relax and chill at the few Black night spots we have.
Nigga’s relax and chill all week and then go out on the weekends and work hard to mess up the few Black night spots we have.In the words of Chris Rock, “I love Black people… but I can’t stand nigga’s!!
Let’s re-evaluate this so-called concept of ‘keeping it real’ shall we? Doesn’t necessarily have a positive connotation does it?
Being a Nigga:
That poem above me basically described the difference between the two but I would like to add more to it. Nigga’s are blinded by the media and only want to become rappers so they can avoid getting an education and work. They rather try to get rich quick and end up falling back on nothing but their ass. They rather bring the next nigga down although the next nigga is in no better if not worse of a predicament than them. Nigga’s want what you got so they’ll rob you blind after they just smile in your face for a few weeks. They rather have loud cars and outrageous sounds and rims. They rather stay in the hood and lay down with all the hood-rats they can but don’t want to face the consequences of having unprotected sex. They fear change and would rather stay weak-minded and continue to be a coon. Nigga’s will listen to Lil’ Wayne, Plies, Gucci Mane and try their damnedest to apply it to their everyday lives. They think listening to their coon tunes make them a thug. It just makes them apart of the problem. It makes them naive.
Lil’ Wayne is a nigga. Denzel Washington is Black.
Like this:
Cleveland, get off of Lebron’s Nutsac!
I’m sure everyone besides Cleveland, Ohio knows that Lebron James becomes a free agent July 1st. Well here in Cleveland, the news is all a buzz and have been for some time now about Lebron. They’re holding parties in his honor, even The Cleveland Orchestra is in on it come this July 2nd. There is this big mural of Lebron from when he was in high-school, college and now professional basketball and under it, it goes along the lines of saying that Cleveland needs/wants him here and this is where he belongs.
Related: Psychic predicts Lebron James Future
In my opinion Cleveland is pathetic. They’re saying that Cleveland’s economy relies on Lebron James and if and when he leaves the economy will fall. Honestly, I hope he leaves because this is ridiculous. If they fought this hard for things that mattered Cleveland would be slightly striving, but I digress.
Lebron James is more than a sports superstar. He’s a one-man economic engine that drives the lane, fills the bars and puts Cleveland on national TV. - The Cleveland Plain Dealer (Cleveland.com)
People here are basically willing to sell their soul to get Lebron James to stay. While I sit and watch this debauchery unravel, I can’t but help to pity the citizens of Cleveland, and yes Akron Ohio. Lebron isn’t the ‘chosen one’ or the ‘king’ as everyone puts it.
I’m sure he’s laughing at everyone behind closed doors; already decided on what he’s going to do. I cannot wait when the day of reckoning comes; I seriously hope he leaves, but there’s a catch to that. People will THEN be bitching, crying and moaning about how he betrayed his hometown and how he turned his back on his family or what have you. This is a lose/lose situation here, the bitching, the pleading, the crying won’t end.
The Cleveland Orchestra’s free, public event on Public Square celebrates its 21st anniversary on Thursday, July 1. A community festival begins at 5pm and at 8:40pm, an “orchestrated” message to LeBron James will be delivered. July 1 is the Cavaliers star’s first official day as a free agent. The Orchestra concert, followed by fireworks is at 9pm. – City of Cleveland
How pathetic is that? Talk about desperate pleas, it don’t get any more desperate than that. I hope the message reads “Please get off of Lebron’s nutsac“.
It’s really sad how people have placed so much faith and hope in this guy to the point of which I really worry about the citizens of this city… their hearts are just way too attached; and their wallets. I mean really, our economy depends on him? Its REALLY pathetic when an entire city depends on one guy for their economy, especially when that one guy seemed to have quit the city during the Boston Celtics [that's my team] playoffs. Anybody watching the game could see that the Cavaliers and Lebron gave up, so the city should have been prepared for this, why lose time and money chasing after this guy when all efforts should be put forth for the betterment of Cleveland and all Clevelanders?
If anyone can answer that feel free. Maybe he will surprise us all and just retire.
Like this:
Chris Brown, you’re trying too hard…
Chris 
Brown haven’t lost that many fans as he probably think he have. For it to surface that Lloyd told him to cry on stage is pretty much a starving cry out for attention.
He’s back with a vengeance….I think that they’re gonna find a place in their heart for him again….I told him man, you gotta get up there. You gotta CRY, you gotta really show your heart to the world. – Lloyd
But now there is another rumor going around that Lloyd DID NOT tell Chris Brown to cry at the 2010 BET Awards.
From Lloyd’s blog:
I consider Chris a friend. He’s been through a lot in the past couple years. I never told him to go on stage and cry. We spoke recently, and I told him as a friend that people hadn’t really seen him be vulnerable about his situation last year [with Rihanna]. I thought he was holding back and needed to let that emotion out. Him crying at the BET Awards was real, I could feel it.” said Lloyd.
He went on to say, “I think he cried about a number of things. About the fact that he thought people would hate him forever because of one mistake. Feeling that love on stage was probably overwhelming. Plus MJ being gone and him performing “Man in the Mirror”, that song is powerful, especially for his situation. It pushed him over the edge. - Lloyd
The man is supposed to be professional and was supposed to pay tribute to a legend that he looked up to. Not put on a freak show toward the end to win his fans back..that shit was all types of wrong. He was supposed to kill it and show that he had the vocal range to almost match Michael [that last part was sarcasm because Chris Brown can't sing for shit].
Either way in my opinion, Chris Brown, you’re trying too hard and you ruined the tribute to Michael Jackson. You let your guilty conscience and desperate attempts to win your fans back blind you into doing what you can do best and it’s not singing, but dancing.
It’s funny how many women are forgiving Chris Brown and making excuses for him, but lets put that same issue in your life. What if your man beat the shit out of you? How many of you would make excuses for him?
Also…
Nobody’s hating on Chris Brown. You young girls are getting all defensive and upset. You aren’t kin to this cat. Some of us do not like him. Didn’t before the Rihanna shit and don’t now. My dislike for him has nothing to do with what happened between him and Rihanna. Every couple has problems and sometimes shit happens. I just don’t like his attitude. He always seemed fake, contrived, cocky, over-the-top, corny, etc. That’s my opinion. It’s amazing how many of you chicks talk about picking the wrong men or being in relationships with men/boys who hit it and then quit it. But you like men like this. It’s no wonder your relationships go nowhere. You’re looking for “swag”, arrogance, cockiness, drug-dealing, closet homosexual, false flagging, thug wanna-be ass men but you wonder why you pick the wrong men. WTF? Keep your damned legs closed until you find out if he’s for real. Talk about something other than sex, cars and money if you really want to get to know him and his intentions.
Crying was the worse thing he could have done. MJ should have jumped out his grave and moon-walked all over that kid. BET at times does things tasteless; this was one.
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Like this:
Never mind Lil’ Wayne…
What on earth is this?
Click Here
I just realized that there are rappers out there far, far, far much worse than Lil Wayne, Gucci Mane, and Plies alike. I’m seriously hoping that this is just a parody because there is no way in hell this chick managed to get a record deal. WorldStarHipHop sure do know how to find these smuts.
I feel sorry for the fat chick, her feet has got to be hurting, the bitch can barely move in them. Not only do I feel sorry for the fat chick, I feel sorry for Matthew Hoyos which in fact needs to be shot execution style for having the gall to produce this crap.
So I’m guessing this is what Hip-Hop and Rap turned out to? I mind as well get me a record deal my damn self, seems the ‘get-rich-quick’ scheme is all in favor to anyone who feel the need to. Although I would be uncomfortable with the whole idea. I’d feel more comfortable knowing when and if I fall, it won’t be on my ass; it’ll be on a backup plan. Well whatever floats the well enough sinking mainstream media boat.
