Sidepieces Are Having The Best and Worst Year Ever

MjAxMy1lNWM5YmZjYjkxN2ZiMmZiIf you’re Black or know Black people, there is a really good chance that you’ve heard, used, or listened to some wayward soul use the word sidepiece at least once in the past week. To hell with “selfie”, in the urban world, the word of the year for 2013 is “sidepiece”.

Sidepieces are everywhere. They’re in songs. They’re on television making a living as a sidepiece. There are entire shows dedicated to it (Scandal) where literally EVERYBODY on the show is a sidepiece of some sort. There are other shows like Love & Hip-Hop where chickens BRAG about having to take Plan B because she’s letting her ex (who is now married) dump off in her on a regular basis. Somewhere in America, a man lives with a woman who he’s not married to while being married to woman he doesn’t live with. Yes, his wife somehow manages to be his sidepiece. That takes a special brand of talent and f*ckery. Truth is stranger than fiction.

I know a cat who even has Sidepiece Sundays. Nevermind the fact that this sounds like a dope name for an event, but le hombre actually practices this by giving his sidepieces time on Sundays. Basically, sidepieces have become accepted members of society. Now don’t get it f*cked up…NOBODY wants to be a sidepiece. I think there’s still a better than 50 percent chance that 60 percent of the time it works every time that most sidepieces don’t know they are the “other person”. But the other half of the second third of me thinks that context clues are a motherf*cker and refusing to read the tea leaves is a choice. Memes abound and there are canons both to the left and right of them.

To that end, sidepieces are really having a stellar year. I mean, for the longest, they were nobodies. They were home-wrecking trollops enabling cheaters to stick and move for little more than extra cheese on a burger. Make no mistake, sidepieces can be dangerous. That’s usually how folks get f*cked up in the game – they tell their sidepiece too much and she has enough information to make waves, something that is especially easy to do in today’s social media “hey look at me I was here, here, here, and here” heavy environment. In some ways, its kind of amazing that anybody would cheat nowadays given the fact that everybody seems to want attention and credit for…well, something. And sidepieces are no different. While they may not be the queen, they usually want to be the queen and while not pressing the issue, will, force the issue a time or two with strategically placed pictures and appearances. See, sidepieces usually have nothing to lose and if they know they’re a sidepiece they’re usually willing to go the extra mile to embarrass me and you, your momma and your cousin too.

Which is why the popular cultureness of sidepieces is also the worst thing that could happen to them. Sure they’re winning by getting some notoriety and recognition in the hierarchical food chain of relationship shenaniganery; completely with proper deference and significant social media presence. However, the disdain for these individuals has also reached a fever pitch. See, while women like Kerry Washington have managed to turn sidepieces (she is a sidepiece on Scandal, this is not debatable) into notable personas, we also kind of HATE her characters ability to be SUCH a sidepiece. She’s textbook and nobody likes textbooks. The ability to seek, locate, and destroy those who are sidepieces is also easier than ever.

That chick is liking too many of your man’s pictures on IG? Is she RTing your boo too many times? Is he on your girl’s FB page too frequently? Because sidepieces know they matter nowadays, they want recognition, but they really just want to bring down the house of cards. If you are a sidepiece you know that everybody hates you. Especially if you get found out to be one.

The main bullet point here is that sidepieces/chicks/dudes/of rice have made the leap. Betty Wright tried to told you. Pleasure P was willing to be boyfriend number 2. But now, sidepieces are legitimate members of society eligible for ID cards like illegals. I saw a sidechick try to sign up for a health plan under Obamacare but the site kept going down on her…which, well, too easy drill sargent too easy.

So what say you, are sidepieces having the best year ever? Or the worst? Or is it the best AND worst chick ever?

Boyfriend number 12 checkin’ out.


How To Avoid The Stevie Js Of The World

[I just heard that news that Chris Kelly from Kriss Kross died. RIP homey. Jump.]

If you see this man ladies, run. Run like the wind. Run like your life depended on it.

If you see this man ladies, run. Run like the wind. Run like your life depended on it.

I consider myself to be somewhat of a Black pop culture maven (BPCM). I’m not even sure what maven means, but I do know I used it properly in that sentence. I also know somebody named Mavis. No staple.

Well being the BPCM that I am, I spend an inordinate amount of time watching shows that Black Twitter watches. This includes all of the shows in the Ratchet Roundup (Love & Hip-Hop, Basketball Chicks, Real Live In Girlfriends, Say No To That Girlfriend, Pull Over That Ass To Phat, etc). Surprisingly, I do not watch Scandal and have only seen a few episodes in their entirety. I can’t reconcile this with my ratchetry except to point out that I f*cking rock and if you know like I know, you don’t want to step to this. It’s the PJ era, funked out with a gangsta twist.

For those who haven’t seen LHH:ATL, I can’t decide if I feel like you’ve made all the right choices in life or if you’ve missed the boat. Maybe you’ve done both. “Maybe” was a good song. But either way, if you haven’t seen it, one of the central characters is Stevie J aka Sleazy J of Hitmen (Bad Boy) fame. He produced “Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems” for Biggie and several other huge (seriously huge) hits for Bad Boy. He and his on-again-off-again girlfriend Mimi have a daughter together. He also has a relationship with a Dominican chick named Josaline Hernandez who most people would have sworn was a man in the beginning of the first series.

But this isn’t a show recap. And this ain’t funny so don’t you dare laugh, but Stevie J might be THE worst kind of man out there on the planet. When women are talking about men that are terrible, they’re talking about men like Stevie J. He’s stereotypically all of the worst facets of manhood (short of his parenting, I have no idea what kind of father he is…by all accounts Mimi has nothing negative to say about his involvement and love for his daughter): he’s a liar, he’s a cheater, he’s the ultimate opportunist, he’s selfish, he’s condescending, he’s emotional, he’s conniving, he makes rat faces, he literally just watches as the ship sinks then gets off as it heads towards the bottom for another ship while the other patrons die. He’s the kind of man that every man with a daughter will encourage her to avoid.

Only because we see Stevie J weekly can most people (read: women) say they’d never date a man like him. But people like him are extremely personable and they tug at women’s heart strings. They come through with gifts. They’re all about the short con and see everything solely through their own eyes.

You know something is wrong when Benzino of Made Men and Almight RSO fame is the voice of reason. Yes, Benzino, is on television spitting realness and truth to Stevie telling him that he needs to change his ways and stop being so selfish. But that’s what it all comes down to. Stevie J is the most selfish man on the planet. He’s so selfish that even men don’t f*ck with him. Do you know how selfish you have to be to make another man stop f*cking with you?

So here are some tips to avoiding men like Stevie J and saving yourself the most severe and painful heartache EVER:

1. If a man ALWAYS sounds like he’s trying to game you, then he probably is…

If I thought Stevie J owned any books, I’d believe he’s spent as much time reading up on game as Obsidian. Everything Stevie says sounds like he’s conning you and giving you half the story. EVERYTHING.

2. Once you feel like a man is trying to game you, be prepared to be taken for all of the emotional capital you have to give…

You know what sucks about bad love? It’s exhausting. It drains your soul and your spirit. Ladies, men will drain you for everything you have and test your entire mettle so that you can see what kind of woman you really are. I have a lot of sisters. A lot. I’ve seen them go through so many levels of Tyler Perry’s hell its almost made me cry (and get a gun). However, they’ve all risen like Maya Angelou in an elevator. But they did lose in the process. A lot of winning involves loss. Remember that. And all loss ain’t just sacrifice. Stevie will take your cookies then expect you to make more so he can take those too.

3. Read the signs. A man’s face will tell you a whole hell of a lot.

I think 99 percent of women are crazy. I truly do. But only 50 percent of that crazy results in actions that are possibly illegal. But a man who has hit his crazy level, that is some scary sh*t. Some men can’t take it when they don’t get their way. It burns because their life is built around controlling everybody like pawns. Entire subgenres of Black movies are built around this premise. Men who snap because their will is not done. God complex having ninjas will tow that line on occasion. God is the giver of life and free will. A man who feels this way will attempt to prove to you he has those abilities.

4. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times…you’re in it forever.

Learn when to cut your losses. This really goes for men and women. But people who can’t seem to do right no matter how many chances and who continue to improve on their f*cktasticness, well, learn the lesson. Let them go. If it doesn’t take a whole day to recognize sunshine then it doesn’t take the end of your life to realize that you’re dealing with some bullsh*t. Learn to move on.

So what are other ways to notice that a woman (or a man for that matter) is dating Stevie J? Help the people out.


Basic B*tch Levelology

Basic B*tch Olympic Time Trials - LaceFront Alter

*It’s not lost on me that I just wrote a post about Common calling women b*tches and then here I go writing a post that uses the word “b*tch” in the title. My only defense here is that I didn’t come up with the most perfect term to describe these women in these scenarios. I’m not enlightened and I think “Come Close” was p*ssy pandering. If you do have beef, forward all mail to here.*

Let me say upfront that I HATE everybody on Love & Hip Hop. I cannot stress this enough. My skin crawls when Chrissy tries to make people chose between her loyalty, their sanity, and deciding whether or not she’s a mole. Get it? Never mind.

Yandy’s name is Yandy. And I’m fairly certain that there isn’t a white person alive short of her mother who even acknowledges that Kimbella is halfsies. You know what, who cares. They drive us all crazy. Olivia is the only person I even kind of like and that’s because I’m totally jealous of her complexion. *squeal*

But despite my consistent protestations, the “stay classy San Diego” women of Love & Hip Hop constantly bring up one point that I think is important when discussing hoodratology and, well, basic b*tches: levels.

Chrissy eloquently stated that Yandy wasn’t on her level. Erica stated that Kimbella wasn’t on her level either. What level? F*ck if I know, but apparently these levels exist because these basic broads teach me so. Since I don’t really know what the levels are (though I know you can never get on my level WHAT get on my level WHAT), I figured that I’d use the women on the show to venture a guess as to what the levels are. Creep me with me as I roll through the hood of basic b*tches.

Ride or Die Until The Wheels Fall Off Level – When Chrissy said that Yandy wasn’t on her level, I can only assume this is the level she meant. That stay-for-7-hope-for-30-more level. Turns out she comes from a family of these types of ninjas since her aunt also proposed to her uncle. Those chicks either have control issues or are extremely patiently impatient. Now, a lot of the women on this show fit this category. Olivia is riding or dying with her career, which must be wearing a condom since she can’t really bust out. Emily is riding or dying with Fabolous, who we aren’t sure knows who she is, and then there’s Kimbella. And that’s all I’ll say about that. This isn’t the worst level, and is the most common from basic b*tch to PhD in biomedical physiological aquatic basket masseuse.

I Obviously F*cked Your Man Which Is Why I Am So Hung Up On This Mess Even Though I Need To Let It Go Level – Hi Yandy. Word to big bird, you are waaaaay to emotionally invested here. I used to think that Chrissy was tripping but now I just think that you really believe Jimmy (I love calling him Jimmy) actually should chose you over the woman he  has decided to marry despite common sense that dictates that would never happen. What a dolt. Yandy, you stupid.

I’m At The Bottom Rung And Can’t Understand Why I Can’t Rise Like Maya Angelou Level - Kimbella might be the most curious case of delusion ever. I can honestly say that I don’t understand her because she brings nothing to the table, takes everything from it, and always seems to think that she’s being done wrong. Now I will say that Erica, the really ugly pretty basic b*tch, has a bigger grudge than Kobe Bryant in Phoenix, but damn. You really gonna run up on Erica at her birthday party with Somaya “Ray Lewis Shoulders” Reese and think you ain’t gonna get swung on?

I’m Only A Video Ho And Don’t Realize That Barack Obama Doesn’t Know Me Level - This is Erica all day. I wish somebody would slap her with the winds of change and a 20-inch Sumitomo tire. The fact that she ACTUALLY views Kimbella as having brought down her property value makes me think she failed out of 5th grade. Hey Erica boo, both of y’all ninjas have list prices of about $1,000. I checked the MLS listings. Nobody cares about you booboo. And your boobs are way too big for your body. Oh, and your singing sounds like a motherf*cking praying mantis struggling to eat her husband.

All For Nothing Level - I keep forgetting Teairra Mari is on this show. I just pulled up “Sponsor” on YouTube. I love this song. Anyway, she perplexes me. She can sing. She’s banging. She’s still young. Yet, she’s as much of a non-motherf*cking factor as one can be. She might be the poster child for non-motherf*cking factors. If Obama picked a director for his new National Office of Non-Motherf*cking Factors he’d almost have to pick her right? She’d be the list. Her and Ameriie should start a group together. They could call it We Give Good Face. Point is, she not only needs a sponsor, she needs better management. And I don’t mean Rich Dollaz.

By the way, does anybody else remember Teairra Mari’s song “No Daddy”. It’s quite possible that it’s one of the worst songs of all time. No disclaimer. No joke.

Anyway, I bring this to you all, what are the different levels that basic b*tches are referring to when they tell other basic b*tches that they aren’t on their level? Let us educate the masses today. For I have no clue what they’re talking about.

Basically, I just know that you ain’t on my level.


Love & Hip Hop and The Proposal

Beware, there are a lot of strong faces in this picture.

You know how women tend to map out their weddings? Even the most hardened, thugged out, stabbin’ ninja woman has some vision of her wedding. And the proposal? Yeah, they all have an idea of what they’d like it to look like. Sure reality and fantasy may never collide but the idea, the hope, is always there. And I’d bet double or nothing that Chrissy’s ideal proposal looked nothing like the pisspoor one that Jim Jones gave to her on the last episode of vh1′s academic and rigorously brain teasing show, Love & Hip-Hop.

If you know Black people. There’s a solid chance that 78.5% of them all watch Love & Hip-Hop every Monday night. That number includes 100% of video hoes as they all view the show as comeup central.

I’m half surprised that Jim didn’t just throw the box at her and say, “gotcha b*tch. Happy now?” I’m being hyperbolic but he didn’t even kneel down. And he tried to play this cool, detached, somewhat pissed role cum captain save-a-ho at the end with the sweet gangsta thing that went terribly wrong. And do you know why? It’s impossible to be hardcore when proposing to a woman. It’s one of the moments in a man’s life when he’s truly vulnerable. It’s like putting up a Christmas tree. It is completely ungangsta to put up a Christmas tree. You ever seen a jolly thug? Some random ninja with a Santa hat and a .45 tucked into his waistband while laying tinsel every so gently on a fir? Smiling? While sipping on some eggnog and eating oatmeal raisin cookies? Exactly. Let the thug go. Jimmy…couldn’t do it. He basically handed her a box, said “do you want to marry me?” and then feel proud of himself for giving her what she wanted. Except the whole time he didn’t even really look like he wanted to be there.

Except…she didn’t care because she’s been waiting for that ring for some seven years so she was just happy to get it. Except now what? Except, right. Which begs the question here, does the proposal matter that much?

I’m only asking because if you’ve been waiting for seven years (or three or four, or whenever she proposed to him) to the point that you keep grandstanding, talking about leaving and having your oddlyfaced friends help you pack up stuff from a house that you really don’t want to leave with a life you don’t want to give up, do you even care how he does it? Or are you just happy that he does it. And I’m inclined to believe that Jimmy wasn’t trying to give a dbag proposal. He just didn’t know how to pull off thugged out and vulnerable man at the same time. And real talk, calling it a dbag proposal might be overstating.

Which brings me to some more overstatements: Love & Hip-Hop is one ridiculous ass show. So Jim Jones proposal makes perfect sense. We have one of the most unattractive attractive women on the planet in Emily, a woman who’s been chasing Fabolous since before he could misspell it seems. And she just can’t get it right. Then there’s Olivia. Bless her heart. You may remember her…actually,  you probably don’t remember her at all. First she tried to get us to “Bizzounce” years ago and we didn’t. Then 50 Cent tried to convince us that she had star power…DURING HIS HEYDAY. Think about that. Even when 50 Cent was on TOP of the game he couldn’t convince us to care about her.

This from a man who made Tony Yayo relevant. Again, think about that. Kimbella, oh Kimbella. I’m sure she’s hot. I’m sure I don’t find her hot. Maybe its because she annoys me so much. Though not as much as Teairra Mari who for the life of me has contributed nothing to the world aside from a great rack and the song “Sponsor” featuring Gucci Mane, which, I actually loved. But on this show…pointless.

Yandy? She mildly amuses me but only because she’s just somebody else who latched on to the Jim Jones bandwagon. Nancy, love her. But I tend to like crackheads. And then there’s Chrissy.

I cannot stand her. Many women I know love her no-nonsense attitude….except when it comes to Jimmy. Honestly, if it wasn’t for all of her instigating and fighting, I’d hate her more. But alas, she keeps bringing the gun to the knifefight so she does possess value.

Look, the show blows. There’s too much boohooing over men that don’t want them and then too many talentless women attempting to be somebody in the world. There’s really no reason for this show to exist.

But at the end of the day, Love & Hip-Hop makes me realize that despite the fact that I’m not rich, apparently me and Jim Jones could live in the same neighborhood since there seem to be a plethora of tiny ass houses right next door to him. (Seriously, did homeboy have his house built in a neighborhood full of 2 bedroom homes?) The problems that these broads have are not unlike everybody else’s problems except they’re potentially more ridiculous because all of their fame is due to the men they’re associated with. I find it so interesting how many women love these shows considering how they fly in the face of nearly everything women get so pissed at men for saying.

These women are the living embodiment of a Tyler Perry movie without a script but women tune in every Monday with reckless abandon. THEN talk sh*t about the terrible Tyler Perry movies and how they do a disservice to women everywhere. Okay. Alright.

What’s the draw? I don’t know. But the next time any of y’all who love these shows tell me Tyler Perry is selling us out…I’m going to throw my show at you or one of those bottles Kimbella threw at Erica Mena. And then I’ll have Chrissy yank your lacefront.

So real talk…why the hell do people love these shows so much? Don’t tell me the drama…it can’t be that simple? And speaking of the proposal to Chrissy, does it matter or is the fact that it happens that much more significant in general?

Talk to me…what’s with the love for Love & Hip-Hop?


2012 New Year’s Resolutions – The VSB Edition

Welcome back. Welcome back. Welcome baaaaaaack.

We around the VSB offices hope that you and yours had a most plentiful, restful, and bountiful Christmas and New Year’s. For some of us it was the best of times and it was the worst of times. If you had the worst of times then I feel sorry for your mother. No, that’s not true.


As is customary in western society, we (the people) usually come up with resolutions for the new year. We usually call them…New Year’s Resolutions. Granted, very few of us actually follow through on any of them past January 15, but it is nice to ponder a higher conscientiousness and what not. Especially since all of our friends on Love & Hip-Hop are the anti-thesis of higher consciousness. Seriously, I hate everybody on that show with boobs. Kimbella, Yandy, Chrissy (I know y’all love her, I do not), Teirra (how the f*ck do you spell her name? Damn Detroiters), Emily (can somebody clear this up for me – Noxema – is she supposed to be attractive?), blah blah blah…

I’d like to throw a bottle at everybody involved at least once.

Moving on.

Resolutions. I figure that it’s both cliche and positive to resolute some sh*t. Like a desk. I love National Treasure. So here are some resolutions for a G like myself. Beware, some of these may not be your traditional resolutions. Like Omarion told us in 2004, I’m gon’ change…

1. I resolve to never end up dating a woman that would likely end up on a reality television show. I realize that I’m not famous enough to cause a woman I’m seeing to be asked to be on Blogger Boos, but my goal is to make sure that should such a show come to fruition, in 2012, nobody I’m associated with would be asked. Two words and a symbol: Cease & desist. You may think that’s a dumb goal. I’d tell you more, but its too early in the year to go into it.

2. I resolve to go to more clubs where “Round of Applause” is played. Again, might sound retarded but in 2011, I spent a whole lot of time in niche clubs where ignorant music was frowned upon by people wearing hemp, cargo pants, and graphic tees that said “Dilla Saved My Life”. And while that may be true (though the irony is absolutely uncanny), I’ve got to get back to places where Lil Wayne and Jeezy are on the menu. Do you know much my soul yearns to watch an entire club clap in unison when “Round of Applause” comes on? You may not know my pain. But it’s real.

By the way, I honestly think that song should be the Grammy winner for Song of the Millenium.

3. I’ve really got to reduce the number of “you ain’t sh*t” emails I receive. <—- not lying. Of course, I may receive a few merely for writing this as a resolution but hey, you win some you lose some. Can a brotha grow? Then again, that would imply that any of them were warranted. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. I’ll just do better in 2012. Either way, I’m done. I’m tired. I can’t fight no more. I quit. I’ve decided to join a monastery to get my life right.

I didn’t join a monastery.

4. Execute.While murdering a few people here and there might make my liver quiver and my soul shake, I’m actually talking about the game. We have so much good stuff planned for VSB for 2012 I’m almost giddy for the possibilities. But nothing can happen unless we make it pop off ’round here. 2011 was such a monster year for us and the entire VSB community (seriously, y’all are part of all it with us) that its going to be hard to top. But we have no choice. Which is part of the reason I just started this year off like this with the softball resolution post.

We’ve got to put it all on paper so that we can all revisit this post during the course of the year to make sure that we’re on track. Hoes.

Flying coyote.

So, good people of VSB, let’s start off the year with some resolutions. What new year’s resolutions do you want us to hold you accountable for in 2012? Spill it.


For all the DC heads: Come out to Liv Nightclub this Saturday, January 7, 2012, as VSB x Shine On Me x Just Cause Events bring you 2012′s first installment of Reminisce, the old school hip-hop/r&b party. You partied hard for a fee for NYE, now it’s time to party for free. Free before 11pm ($10 after), open bar from 10-11pm, and no dress code. Come party with Panama Jackson and dance the night away, sweat out your perm lacefront, and celebrate good times. C’mon. Peep the Facebook invite here.