link of the week: mixed signals

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we all know the scene.

a scantily clad charlie baltimore doppleganger, in a huddle with other scantily clad and pseudo attractive phillies, sips on an 38 dollar community mojito at a nightclub while her and her girls continue to glare at every man in the club like they were beanie segel and the guys were bars of soap. while she accidentally makes eye contact with some soon to be extremely unfortunate chap, one of her blue tinted contacts shifts in her eye, causing her to blink. the chap interprets this as a come-hitherly wink, and approaches the crew of vultures, thoroughly unprepared for fury about to be unleashed because he had the audacity to approach them.

basically, eagle meets goat

although most of us would either fault him for not paying attention to the body language and general disposition of the horrific crew before he approached, or her for just being a prick, according to university of texas professors martie g. haselton, ph.d., and david m. buss, ph.d,…its nature and sh*t.

according to their study (paraphrasing),

“…men tend to overestimate women’s sexual interest, while women underestimated men’s willingness to commit. but, interestingly enough, both men and women were more accurate in rating women’s commitment levels…

…so why do men and women misjudge only certain cross-sex signals? they’re adaptive biases, say the researchers. according to the theory of natural selection—in which only the fittest survive—males who falsely inferred a woman’s sexual interest stood to gain descendants, and lost little if the woman was a suitable mate. “for ancestral men, it was more costly to miss a reproductive opportunity than to face rejection“, haselton explains. but females who were abandoned after consenting to sex suffered far greater consequences: pregnancy, reduction in mate value and having to raise a child alone. “for women, it was more costly to be deceived by men, so selection favored skeptical women,” he says, “leading to their continued skepticism about men’s willingness to commit.“

in a nutshell: guys appear to indiscriminately holler because the idea of rejection pales in comparison to the prospect of potentially passing up some new p, and women are hardwired to be teasing assh*les.

yup. sounds about right.

—the champ

the battle of the sex-less

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we all know this woman.

she could be your closest friend.

your district manager.

your neighbor.

your mother-in-law.

your classmate.

your co-worker.

regardless of which role she happens to play, after spending some time with her, you have no problem whatsoever recognizing, examining, and outlining her problem; a problem so resonate that it effects her entire being, a problem that permeates everything and everyone around her, leaving those who’ve been in her fallout area left with no choice but to utter those same fateful six words underneath their breath:

“can somebody f*ck her soon, please????????”

from the “taming of the shrew” to “pre-early 2008 renaissance” condoleezza rice (btw, condi’s makeover from branmuffinhead to potential milf after several rum and cokes has to be one of the single most spellbounding stories of 2008.), the idea and existence of a woman universally thought to be in dire need of some d*ck is as old and dry as ***insert perfunctory joke about random vsb-er***.

(asexual no more)

although this may seem harsh, we all know a few chicks whose general demeanor and countenance would be legions better if, while they were pulling overtime duty at the office tuesday night, counting typos in everyone’s emails or some other excessively anal endeavor, some masked mandingo broke in, bent her over the trashbin in the breakroom, tied her hands to the blender, and blew her back out like bob backlund. if you don’t know any of these chicks, sorry hun. its probably you.

because we feel that a “satisfied” female populace makes the world much safer and much more fun, the champ has decided to give you all four definite signs that a woman needs some soon

she voluntarily works over 60 hours a week

i’m not referring to the person who has to work 12 hour days to put food on the table or to keep their business afloat, but nothing says “get her some serious wang, stat!!!” like a woman who’s a workaholic for no reason. if you interpret this as sexist or slightly misogynistic, hmmm….it looks like someone’s mouth needs some manmeatoh well. i’m the champ and you’re not. deal with it

everyone is always trying to hook her up with someone

when you mom, your co-workers, your ex-boyfriend, your neighbors, your girls, the people you know at church, the crazy mocha weekend barista, your nephews barber, and the family of that guy you hit with your car in 1998 are all always trying to “hook you up” with people they know, it has nothing to do with their altruism or their compassion or their loathe to see a “decent woman” by herself, and everything to do with the fact that your air of “coituslessness” is emitting from your body, infecting everyone and everything within a 20 foot radius, and they’re tired of it and ready for a change.

also, when this occurs, they’re usually three steps away from murdering you. its that serious

during “outings” with her girls, she keeps tabs on who does or doesn’t show up

i wasn’t aware that some women actually did this until a few years ago, when one of my exes informed me that she needed to go to this morning miniature golf outing her girls were having (she had some weird ass girls, btw), because she had missed the last one.

apparently, if she missed two in a row, one of the organizers of this outing would probably send her a snarky email/text “questioning her focus as a friend”

***btw, this “organizer” was also nicknamed “t-mac” because of her terry mcmillan stan-dom and her odd resemblance to tracy mcgrady.***

when i asked a couple women i knew about this phenomenon, they each remarked that this is common. at least one member of their circle of friends keeps mental event attendance tabs. this person is also usually the one who’s gone the longest without someone “poppin her pepsi can”

she’s a militant black woman who has recently (within five years) graduated from college.

if i were a mathematician, in this space i would have placed the results of an inferential statistical study detailing the correlation between ultra-dogmatic militantism and lack of non-solo induced orgasms. since i’m not a mathematician, i’ll just say that, without fail, EVERY ultra militant recent college grad i’ve ever known (and i’ve known dozens) changed her tune considerably after she got some consistent gotdamn. every. 100 percent.

i guess its tough to memorize and recite jessica care moore with a wang in your mouth.

people of vsb.com, its your patriotic duty to make sure that the sexless women in your life get some sex, that the wang-less get some wang, that the healthy backed get them broke before the end of the calender year. the world is counting on you. don’t let your people or your champ down.

—the champ

Four Flat Tires.

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It’s happened to all of us at least one good time. Even the most gangsta of individuals (such as myself) have fallen victim.

I’m talking about getting gamed. But not in a bad way, necessarily. I’m talking about running across those individuals who you might not otherwise pay attention to, but they, ya know, laid their game down quite flat.

Back in maybe 1999 or 2000 (it was that long ago, I really can’t remember), I was working at an MCI Call Center in Atlanta. Yes, Panama was that arsehole calling you trying to get you to pay 10 cents a minute to call domestically – this was clearly before cell phones. Well I had my eye on this one particular philly. I voiced this interest to a female co-worker of mine who had started working there at the same time as myself.

One day, I’d gotten the gall to approach said philly. Well, out of the blue, my co-worker friend lets me know that ole girl not only has a boyfriend but he’s one of our bosses.

Blow.Er.

Well, in my down-in-the-dumpedness, she lets me know that if not for ole boy, she’d definitely holler at me and we continue talking. I ended up taking her home that night and we had a good convo in the car. It seems that we had a lot in common and upon realizing this, we started casually dating. Who’d a thunk it?

Apparently co-worker chick who lied to me about the chick I really wanted in order to make sure she got her shot at the kid. She basically hoodwinked my ass in the name of love. In 12 countries and Guatemala, that’s probably romantic and by the time she told me I was actually interested in her.

Until I wasn’t. Too bad I got tired of her in like 2.4 days, quit MCI, became totally freakin’ awesome, and joined the priesthood. By the way, 1 out of 4 of those statements is totally false.

Anyway, the point is, ole girl really gamed my arse. She knew what she wanted and made it happen. I had to give her points for sheer audacity alone. I have no clue what happened to that chick and frankly, I don’t really care. I only remembered her because today I saw a Maserati and let’s just say, she was named after a luxury sports car.

Yes yes y’all, Panama has even given the hoodest of chicks the opportunity to drink at the well that is he. He is I and I am him, slim with the tilted brim (no really, look at my pic on the about page!).

Wanton arrogance aside, I appreciate a woman who lays her game down quite flat and gets what she wants.

So fellow VSBers, whats your best game? Rather, when did you lay your game down so strong that even you were impressed with yourself? Or when did somebody come at you in such a way that you had no choice but to give up the number or some conversation?

Speech.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST

Get Yo’ Hand Out My Pocket.

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You ever been out somewhere and you saw a couple who just started going at it like there was nobody else watching?  Except, everybody WAS watching?  Yeah, me too.

Now this isn’t to say that I’m a cold-hearted bastard who can’t appreciate visions of love like Mariah.  Heavens no!  It’s just that there seems to be a time and place for that sort of thing.  While you’re in an elevator going to the 126th floor WITH ANOTHER PERSON IN IT is definitely not one of those times.  But there are folks that either don’t know, don’t show, or just don’t care about not groping each other in the presence of kind and respectable people like myself and the Keebler Elves.

Coincidentally, Myself and the Keebler Elves is the name of my newest band on Rock Band.

Woosah.

Fact is, most people are grossed out, slightly disturbed, or just put off by other people’s blatant disregard for personal space and comfort.  If you think about it, some folks do everything but ask you to join into their little tryst while they explore the #$%^^& of eachother’s #^%&*(*.

Yuck.

Well since I’ know I’m not the only one who’s generally put off by this, I looked to the only place where I felt like somebody knows my name, and where they’re always glad you came.

The internet.  Okay, you got me, I actually just came across this article, courtesy of The Frisky, that listed…a list of 11 Don’ts of PDA – take a gander, a goose if you will (my comments are in italics):

1. Don’t make out in places where others cannot escape, i.e., elevators, train cars. Find a deserted alleyway if you can’t wait until you’re at home—just watch out for serial killers.
Seriously, this is just gotd*mned rude.  Stop it or I shall be forced to tap you both on the shoulder with my cell phone.

2. Don’t use tongue during the day—sucking face is only acceptable at night, when you can use the “I was drunk” excuse. Just sneak little kisses when no one’s looking.
I don’t mind you using tongue, just don’t make me feel like I’m watching the Tongue Channel on HD.  Sparingly, children.  Sparingly.

3. Don’t block people from walking down the sidewalk by refusing to let go of each other’s hands.
Because a ninja like me will break up your little lovehold and scream “Westside” afterwards.

4. Don’t pop each other’s pimples. That’s just gross.
Um…arrrr??

5. Don’t dress alike. Ever.
Ever.  Really.  Like EVER.

6. Don’t continually touch each other if you’re eating dinner with others. It is very distracting and prevents people from enjoying their anolini with butternut squash. And don’t feed each other, unless you’re at your own wedding reception.
Or at least feed everybody else too, especially if you’re hot.  In fact, just turn it into a food orgy.  808’s & Heartbreaks.  November 24.

7. Don’t feel each other up.
But do you mind if I stroke you down?  I knew you wouldn’t mind.

8. Don’t sit in his lap.
Unless his name is Santa.

9. Don’t put your hands in each other’s back pockets.
I know white chicks been getting booty now, but 10 years ago, what purpose did this really serve in the white community?  Why not just feel up a book.

10. Don’t refer to each other by pet names when in public.
You can call me Panama though.  Behave.

11. Don’t kiss loudly.
Yes, keep that to yourself.

So kiddies, any other PDAs that drive you insane that our good friends at The Frisky missed?  Or are you completely okay with PDA and encourage it because you’re one big arse raging hormone who can’t help his/herself?  Hmm…

How do YOU feel about PDA?

Share.
Now.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST

PS.  If your a** watches a lot of television, stay the f*ck away from me with your negative arse.  Get thee to a nunnery.

Half N Half

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I’m an expert in many things. For instance, I’m the reigning expert in sexxiness upon entrance to a room. Do you remember that scene in The Best Man where Morris Chestnut enters the club and all the women fall out?? Well, he got that swagger from me.

Speaking of swagger…Jay-Z??? Yeah I brought that to the table.

In fact, the table?  All me, pal.

I’m also an expert in poly-bicarbonate infused multispectrum exhaustion disposition. And no, that doesn’t mean anything. It does mean I’m an expert in BS.

However, there is one particular area that I have no expertise in whatsoever. And this one area has caused me a great deal of inquiry and peer discussion:

Genetics.

Now you might wonder why in the world I’ve been focused on genetics. It’s for a very simple reason. I happened upon a question one day. It’s a question that has garnered many an answer and sparked much debate with no apparent agreement in the middle. It’s a question that seems more and more relevant given today’s multicultural dating climate and the abundance of race-mixing going on. Face it, you see race-mixers everywhere.

So what is the question you ask?? It is as such:

If two mixed people have a kid, what is the kid?

There are mixed kids everywhere nowadays. Which is great.  I’m mixed.

Yay, me.

Black men have been dating white women at astronomical rates and procreating to boot. I’ll leave the debate alone on Black men dating white women, mostly because I really don’t care. Well this boom in multi-cultural acceptance and flat out rebellion has created a group of new little light skinned wavy haired munchkins. I’m of the mindframe that mixed (Black and white) kids are Black. Now, that’s more of a societal thing and because, well, that’s how I was raised. Growing up in a Black household (I wasn’t raised by my white mother) with Southern roots and then living in the South will do that to you. Where I’m from there ain’t no picking and chosing. You just don’t have that option.

But see, genetically speaking, mixed kids are indeed the combination of white recessive genes and el Negro dominant genes, and not merely Black.

[***Sidenote: For the sake of argument we'll pretend that Black people in America are actually Black and not descendents of white slave owners lustful escapades with Kizzy and the chick in Rosewood.***]

So say you have two mixed people, one male and one female.

And the church said, “duh.”

Male: .5 Black + .5 white = 1 mixed
Female: .5 Black + .5 white = 1 mixed

Now the mathematician in me wants to say well, if you got .5 + .5 that equals 1. So technically speaking, two mixed people with two kids would have one Black kid and one white kid, and they just get to fight it out to figure out who gets to be the cool one, i.e. the Black kid. Though of course that cool becomes completely irrelevant when the Black kid can’t get a job, but you know how us Black folks are – shortsighted and sh*t – which explains why ANYBODY would get permanent gold/platinum/titanium/uranium teeth.

But I digress.

Now I guess a lot of this depends on which rule you chose to follow as well. If two mixed kids have a child do you just say the child is mixed too?? This seems a tad absurd to me because for some reason, mixed doesn’t create mixed in my mind. It’s almost like you have to come up with a new category.

Black+White = Mixed

Mixed+Mixed= Hmmmmm…Mo’Mixed???

See, I clearly have no answer for this. So some people believe that mixed kids are just Black anyway in which case this would be a moot point. Two mixed kids would just be having more Black kids. That just seems a little bit too simple for me.  But then again, what if the mixed people don’t actually believe that they’re, ya know, Black (uh, weird!).  Do they just believe they’re having white kids?

Do they also believe in magic?

I don’t know.  What say you?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P