Tag Archives: shadyside

hay season: the people, places, and things that make me itch

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back pocket

along with unusual virility,  and a head shaped like the working end of a cruise missile, my parents passed an acute sensitivity to idiocy on to me. as i’ve grown older, these sensitivities have become so concentrated and pronounced that i can now honestly say that i’m seriously allergic to bullsh*t.

this affliction is extremely troublesome, as it causes me to start itching uncontrollably whenever i’m in the presence of or a witness to it. in fact, just last week i almost scratched my entire left forearm off when trying to listen to “ghetto techno” all the way through

anyway, because writing about bullsh*t can be very therapeutic and cathartic for me, i’ve decided to name a few more people, places, and things that have been making me itch.

black men who sound like white men trying to sound black (aka “the stu scott” or “the kappa”)

yo, champ. this blog is slammin. word up.

yo, champ. this blog is slammin'. word up.

the phrase “grown and sexy”

a term which is now just a three word euphemism for “drug dealers who launder their money through rim shops and the social services chicks and teachers who want to sleep with them”

grown women rocking pocket-less jeans

has officially replaced clear heels as the standard universal, “she’s probably a ho. nttawwt” uniform

soft chicken wings

there’s nothing more itch-inducing than ordering a dozen cajun chicken wings, but getting a dozen pieces of slippery meat with skin that looks like it came from the bedridden pedophile in seven.

coffee shops that don’t offer free wi-fi

every time i enter one i’m tempted to call up the manager and ask “they still make you?” like i’m chris rock

the “i can make your p*ssy whistle” line in drake’s, “best i ever had”

while i admittedly don’t mind drake as much as my vsb partner does, since when is a whistling p*ssy what’s torrid on the thoroughfare?

seriously, am i missing something here? what woman wants a stepin fetchit-ass p*ssy, and what guy would brag about giving a woman something that sounds like the premise from an episode of “tales of the crypt”?

the fact that i have great mobile internet service everywhere except my own f*cking apartment

i don’t know whats more itch worthy, the fact that i live in the only 900 square foot part of “the most connected community in pittsburgh” without good service, or the fact that i live in a 900 square foot apartment

not being able to grow a beard like black thought

***simultaneously filed under “some bullsh*t” and “things champ has said that are at least 84 percent gay”***

that’s enough therapy for me. people of vsb.com, what bullsh*t is making you itch right now?

—the champ

shake and bake: 7 surefire ways to make yourself seem much more important than you really are

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yeah, b*tch. i know you see those feathers.
yeah, b*tch. i know you see those feathers.

in order to efficiently survive a recession, a time putting excessive strain on employment, friendships, romance, and finance, you need to be able to sell yourself better than karrine stephens.

today, as another example of how seriously the verysmartbrothas take our crime-fighting ideals, the champ has decided to bless the vsb pulpit with seven recession-proof ways to make yourself seem much more important than you really are.

take notes and sh*t Continue reading →

i'm good: the best decisions you never made

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willsmithneo

in the history of bad decisions, you can argue that will smith passing up the role of neo in “the matrix” because he needed to finish filming “wild wild west” ranks in the top three, right up there with “praising your argentinian mistress at a supposedly penitent press conference” and “making a 129 year old don cornelius read a 10,000 word intro for the o’jays at the BET awards”. Continue reading →

all-aboard!!

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***before i begin today, i want to thank gemmie, poison ivy st, kamakula, killa k, pgh muse, wudaman, voiceofreason, buboniccalypso, and everyone else who came out for the pittsburgh-area vsb happy hour and brownie-eating contest friday evening. although pgh muse didnt flash any bartenders, we still had a blast and sh*t, and i really appreciated everyone coming out.***

listening

it usually starts the exact same way.

i’ll be on my pc in my bedroom, surfing for p*rn farmers markets, animal shelters, and places to volunteer, when the first barely audible “ooh” is heard. since my comp is near a window, i usually dismiss this as one of the random street sounds (noiseless priuses, j crew ponchos scraping the pavement, asexual shih tzus, drake mixtapes, etc, etc) associated with living in a gentrified neighborhood.

then, the “oohs” slowly crescendo, which, combined with the now sporadic wall thumps and random smacks, create the unmistakably cacophonous evidence of close apartment coitus. the neighbors are definitely doing the nasty, i’ll definitely be their reluctant audience for the next five to thirty-five minutes, and there’s definitely nothing i can do about it…or is there?

today, i’ll attempt to tackle this awkward and common social dilemma with the three best things to do when you know your neighbors are doing the do

1.  listen, laugh, and learn

once you get past the initial “damn…they’re really over there f*cking, aint they?” shock, what better option is there then to just listen? despite your efforts to ignore, you’re not gonna be able to not pay attention to it, and since they had the utter audacity to include you in their sunday spine spinning session, be an active audience member.

shut your window. find a glass. rub peroxide on your wall. (not sure if this actually works. just saw macgyver do it once and thought it was cool)

also, what better way to really get to really know your neighbors than to hear them at their most vulnerable (is he a sadist? is she a drama queen? was that a squirt hitting the wall?), and what better comic relief is there than hearing your neighbors bf scream “release the hounds” right before he climaxes¹?

2. “pass the plate”

according to the u of shadyside medical journal, there are three normal adult human responses to the sound of lovemaking

a) disgust

b) arousal

c) disgust at your arousal

since its medically proven that you’ll have at least a 66 percent chance of being aroused², why not just pop two birds with one bone?

3. up the ante

my personal favorite, ante upping occurs when the spider-monkeys next-door annoy and arouse you and your significant other so much that you decide to make it you own personal mission to out-coitus them. sh*t, you already have concrete evidence that the walls in your cheap-ass apartment are thin, so why not have a little competition?

be a banshee.

smack her ass and the wall simultaneously.

growl and meow.

use more and more cowbell.

speak in tongues, and, if you can’t speak in tongues, just say sh*t you’d imagine joan rivers would say if she were boned by brian pumper.

i’d continue, but i think my neighbors are at it again, and i’m due for some evening pastor macing.

people of vsb.com, what say you? did i miss anything?

¹no bullsh*t, although i cant really tell if its “release the hounds” or “increase the pounds”
²unless, of course, you’ve seen these neighbors, and these neighbors resemble the construction workers from fraggle rock

—the champ

why so serious?

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the champ, before his morning toast

the champ, before his morning toast

although i don’t have any 2520′s in my immediate circle, i’ve had more than a few white acquaintances, co-workers, f-buddies, and i even know a few people who have a couple white friends. when you combine this information with the fact that i’ve attended predominately white schools my entire life, it’s apparent that i’m a white person expert. i know white people. if “white people” were “crack”, i’d be jojo hailey. if “knowing white peoples habits” were “lazy ass music”, i’d be “jockin effing jay-z”.

although this expertise has proven to be extremely valuable when creasing khaki’s or watching “the house of payne“, in no other way has it helped me as much as it has when comparing and contrasting the habits of young whites with us (“us” being, “american black people” or “north american n*ggas”…whichever you prefer)

now, it’s common knowledge among us that white people admire and emulate much of the sh*t that we bring to the table. from our music and our women, to our “cool” and justin slayer, there’s a multitude of sh*t born in our community that continue to inspire adulation and envy. yet, as i continue to observe the actions and general mores of our paled skinned brethren, i realize that there are a few aspects of their behavior that i admire as well.

today, in true vsb.com fashion, the champ will discuss one “typically white” behavior that could prove to be extremely benefical to us and our dating selves if we chose to adopt it. of course, i’m referring to…

…their ability to have unadulterated and unpretentious fun.

***sidenote: the champ realizes that he is making many blanket generalizations, but is only doing so because he feels that he needs to use some hyperbole to get his point across. if you have a bit of an issue with the subject matter, please try to remember that even though the champ is a virulent racist, sexist, homophobe, and jingoist he’s fair.***

to expound a bit, here is a list of things a typical “north american n*gga” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—perfect music. in this case, “perfect” describes a certain type of music that must be played and the percentage of time devoted to the playing of said music. what defines “perfect” varies from person to person, but unless the music at the establishment falls within 85 percent of that persons personal perfect music quota, the experience will not be seen as favorable

—a favorable male to female ratio

—a favorable number of cute-to-bagable/bangable members of the opposite sex

—a slight to moderate level of intoxication

—favorably priced (or free) access to their favorite intoxicant

—favorable “outside clothes”, an outfit which allows one to moderately stand out without looking like they spent 70 minutes plotting exactly what to wear

—a favorable number of like-minded comrades accompanying them

here is a list of things a typical “white person” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—oxygen (and this is negotiable)

case in point: i live in shadyside, an area of the burgh filled with the type of white people parodied at stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. i can’t even leave my apartment without tripping over a prius or an american apparel skinny tie. basically, a perfect place to bag drunken, liberal, snizzles continue my observations.

anyway, last saturday, a couple young women who live below me (ha!) decided to grill some chicken and swine, setting up shop in a somewhat shaded section of our parking lot, an area which can’t be any larger than 150 square feet. not exactly the optimum place for a party, right? well, that’s exactly what i thought when i left the crib for a minute to drive to the arab seafood/soulfood spot to buy some blank cd’s home depot. when i returned an hour later, that tiny square section of our parking lot had turned into south padre island. there was a four man touch-tab football game, badminton, a one woman wet t-shirt contest and some convoluted yet compelling game which looked to be a combination of the westminster dog show and twister. all of this at 10:15 in the f**king morning.

as i watched them party like it was the last episode of ma.s.h., i couldn’t help but think to myself how much easier sh*t would be for us if we allowed ourselves to just let the f**k go sometimes, and how that would translate to our dating selves.  how much happier would we be if we didn’t have these terrible self-limiting constraints about appropriate labels for non-married significant others, and weren’t so unreasonably obsessed with swagger and exceedingly optimum ass-to-waist ratios. if we didn’t require our potential mates to take both the pool and the extended pinkie test. if “nice” wasn’t a four letter word, and asking someone to smile wasn’t akin to asking them to volunteer for a colonoscopy.

but then…i remembered that i hadn’t eaten yet, and all idealistic thoughts went astray as i sauntered over to the party square to grab a hot dog and quarterback the football game. i scuffed up my white pro-keds a bit too…but it was cool. its just a sneaker, right? it’s really not that serious.

—the champ