Tag Archives: crackheads

4 Reasons Why Being Snowed In Can Suck Major A**

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It's pretty 'til I had to shovel it.

Unless you get all of your news from TMZ or BET, you’ve heard that the mid-Atlantic region, and specifically the Washington, DC area got dumped on by snow to the tune of 18-30 inches.  For some of us, it’s a welcome, though inconvenient, mini-vacation and time to rest up because you really have no choice. But for some others, being snowed in can be that total bullsh*t.

Oh, by the way, congratulations to all the Saints fans, real and as of this season or proximity-ass fans who decided to jump on the bandwagon yesterday. It was a good game. I can’t even imagine what the French Quarter is like right now. Wish I was there.

Back to business.

While most folks love to hear that their job is closed on a Monday, for everybody it’s not all peaches and cream, peaches and herbs, or strawberry letter 23s. Here’s why:

1) You have to actually dig OUT of snow

Between Saturday and Sunday, I spent a sum total of more than 5 hours shoveling snow. No wonder slavery sucked so bad, aside from the obvious. I have a long walkway and a sizeable sidewalk that I’m responsible for. Condo living never looked so good in my life. Coupled with the fact that this is the 2nd snowiest winter in DC history and I’m about damn tired of snow and everything that comes with it. Oh yeah, AND we’re supposed to get ANOTHER damn snow fall on Tuesday night. The good thing is that all the neighbors come out together to shovel snow. The bad thing is that I have a lot of OLD neighbors. Just imagine the old gay guy from Family Guy out shoveling snow while he’s trying to lure the kiddies into his home with hot chocolate and Lincoln Logs. Shoveling your own snow sucks. Shoveling the snow of an 98-year-old who’s outside “helping” sucks ten times worse.

2) Getting snowed in with somebody you hate

Being stuck with somebody you hate is the worst part of a snow storm. There’s no reason to speak to them and you’re not going to see them naked. There is absolutely no upside here. In effect, you’re stuck inside with somebody who repulses you and you can’t go anywhere but outside to shovel snow. You know you really don’t like somebody when shoveling 2 feet of snow seems like a good way to pass the time, mostly because unless you’re training for the strongman Olympics in Helsinki, it’s NEVER a good way to pass time.

3) No matter how many groceries you get,  you always forget to get stuff you actually want

For some strange reason, being locked in for days makes you yearn for foods you normally could live without. All of a sudden you REALLY want that pizza from Pizza Hut that cannot be delivered without getting your Iranian delivery guy who actually is at work waiting to make a delivery stuck on the road your city is planning on plowing but somehow hasn’t got to yet. DC, I’m looking at you. Plus, you really can’t just eat water, no matter what that Australian cat who hit the big kahuna via a stingray might have told you before. Plus, you know how Black folks are, bought all kinds of bread but forgot to get sandwich meat. Got people eating loaf sandwiches with sugar on top. Or you could just go get some snow and everybody can eat sno-cones. Don’t eat the yellow snow though.

4) You get snowed OUT of your home

Across the DC area, there are people stuck at airports waiting to leave, stuck at other people’s homes, etc. If there’s one thing that sucks more than being stuck IN your own home for days on end, it’s being stuck OUT of your home for days on end. No using your own shower in your own bathroom and sleeping in your own bed. Plus, that usually leads to number 2 at some point. I mean if you’re stuck out of your own place for a while, you’re gonna get edgy and piss somebody off. It’s the law of nature. Well that and “eat things that are smaller than you unless your name is Shaq”.

For me, this isn’t a terrible experience; I don’t have any of those problems save number 1, but I do realize how it can suck. Good VSBiens, for what other reasons might it suck to get snowed in? Amuse me while I kiss the sky.

(Really I just wanted to vent somethings though; I REALLY hate shoveling snow.)

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL, HE A 3

Admin Note: By the way, I have an announcement of an upcoming stop I’m making that involves Florida, unicorns, and midgets, and not necessarily in that order. We going global.

On Dem Thangs: 4 Crackheads That Don’t Get Enough Credit.

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crackWe all know that crack kills.

And that it kills your brain cells.

The thing is, some of the biggest contributors to pop culture and society have been crackheads.  Now of course, the term “contributors to society” can be interpreted many different ways, but interpretation, beauty, and thickness are all in the eye of the beholder.

Opinions are like that too.  For instance, that new Jay-Z?  Garbage.  But some other person may hear some splendorous musical arrangement instead.

But back to the point: crackheads.

The other day on my trip out of town for vacation, my girlfriend and I had a conversation about people who don’t get enough credit.  I started with Teddy Riley as somebody who’s managed to invent and re-invent himself over and over again over the past 2 decades and has produced some of the biggest albums (Bobby Brown’s Don’t Be Cruel, Michael Jackson Dangerous, Guy’s albums, etc.) and spearheaded the New Jack Swing movement in hip-hop/r&b.  But not only did Teddy Riley do great work, he also mentored and inspired some other greats – created a certain family tree, if you will.  And one particular part of that family tree lead me to 4 crackheads that don’t get enough credit.  Follow me. Continue reading →

where do i rank?

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i’ve been blessed. along with outrageously middling good looks, proportional body parts, the patience of a penguin sniper, and rapists wit, i couldnt have asked for better parents. obviously, i’m not particularly objective regarding this subject, but i can honestly say without ego that the Gods smiled at me when they gave me supporting, loving, wise, and caring people to be my mother and father, people who never hesitated to make any sacrifices needed to help me continue to grow, and still would if they needed to.

yet, despite all of this, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that if my parents were asked which relationship meant more to them, ours (my parents and i) or the one they have with each other, they’d choose the latter quicker than a crackheads heartbeat. the bond they have with each other is the most important thing in both of their lives, and nothing, including the champ, can come before that.

now, my parents have been together for 30+ years, and i understand that most romantic relationships don’t have that same type of decades-long bond, but this dynamic brings up an interesting discussion.

we’ve all known that person who completely immerses themselves in every relationship they happen to be in, immediately minimizing all other people in their lives. these are the type of people who’ll add that chick they met last week who let them beat in the bathroom of the banana republic to their tmobile myfaves, subsequently canceling their annual trip to vegas with their boys because that chick asked them to “make themselves available” that week because their dusty-ass kids might need a ride from school. these type of people need to be drawn, quartered, fricasseed, marinated, baked, eaten, and shat in a bucket of possums.

thing is, in order for a romantic relationship to actually work, there does have to be some priority reshuffling and personal paradigm shifting…but when and where?

at what point do you make the decision that cultivating your relationship takes priority over your career, influencing you to stay the course in tampa with your chick instead of taking that job offer in prague? when doing the personal relationship restructuring, where does your serious significant other rank? are they ahead of your friends but behind your blood relatives? number one? number three? sandwiched somewhere between your kids and your parents?

so, people of vsb.com, purveyors and possessors of prudent intelligence, what say you? is there a tangible point when relationship prioritizing needs to occur, and, in your optimum romantic relationship, where would your significant other rank?

—the champ

the sad tale of the BAB: three signs that you might be a bitter-a** bastard

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the official drink of the BAB

the official drink of the BAB

from the real world’s BBC (big breasted coral) to omarosa manigault-stallworth, the image of the “angry educated black woman” has become a fixture in modern day american culture. studied, discussed, debated, and caricatured, you almost can’t escape a day without reading some blog or watching some special focused on angry educated black women’s views on dating, racism, sexism or kim kardashian.

thing is, the non-stop attention paid to these belligerent and bookish broads has caused us to overlook and ignore a growing contingent in our communities, a group thats still growing like chinese gymnasts and spreading like the legs of vsb.com groupies california wildfires, the bitter-a** bastard.

acrimonious men who have allowed a few real or perceived minor slights to vindicate their displeasure with womanhood in general, there are bitter-a** bastards walking among us and angrily insisting dutch first dates as we speak, and and its our duty to locate and brand them before they continue to poison the already misty dating pool

so, without further ado, here’s three signs that you might be a bitter-a** bastard (BAB)

1. you’re proudly unchivalrous.

there’s nothing else that screams “i’m a bitter a** bastard” louder than a grown ass man who’s practically excited to get the opportunity to let everyone else know all the simple-ass sh*t they’d never do for a woman.

“pay for dinner??? trick, please. what i look like buying you appetizers and water and sh*t when you don’t even swallow??? plus, you make like 31g’s a year!!! you’re telling me you can’t afford to buy your own damn ice tea???”

look, i understand that it’s 2008 and that acf (annoyingly convenient feminism) combined with the gains women have made in the workforce has made male and female interaction increasingly complex. plus, with all the diseased free panties running the streets nowadays, why walk the extra mile for some “undeserving” chick when you can run a train in your basement?

yet, despite whatever argument you conceive, there’s still no justifiable explanation being this way. part of being a grown-up man is doing the right thing without any expectation of acknowledgment or reward, but a typical BAB will voluntarily and happliy relinquish a crucial component of his own manhood just because some janky broad or two didn’t immediately fellate him when he gave up his seat for her on the train seven years ago.

2. scapegoating is your friend

BABs love scapegoating and pigeonholing more than crackheads love home depot. words such as “all” and “every” always seem to find a way into their sentences when speaking negatively about the opposite sex, a common practice used by folks so blinded by bitterness that they can’t see how foolish a statement such as “all black women with master’s degrees give terrible bj’s” really is. ****editors note: although, with this example, he might have a point****

3. “bitter? me? hell no!!! not at all. I’m just a little more practical now, thats all”

theres nothing a BAB loathes more than actually admitting that he’s a BAB, a phenomenon which produces some of the most hilariously misguided attempts of synonym use known to man. from “practical” and “prudent” to “rational” and “realistic”, a typical BAB will have an endless supply of words and euphemisms that make his BAB-ness sound much less harsh

“i’m not bitter. far from it. i just tend to look at the entire idea of womankind in a perpetually jaundiced light, thats all.”

the first step in any type of healing process is acknowledging the fact that you actually do have a problem, but because BAB’s are typically reluctant to do this, its our patriotic duty to alert them ourselves. good people of vsb.com, its in your hands now.

i challenge you all to find one BAB today, look him dead in his beady eyes, and tell him to “man the hell up!!”. don’t let your country or your champ down.

–the champ