Category Archives: attraction

Thank You, Officer Torres: Fictional Characters You Fell in Love With

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***A version of this entry was originally posted three years ago***

I can honestly say that “The Terminal” is undoubtedly one of my favorite movies. For those unfamiliar with the plot, Tom Hanks plays Viktor Navorski, an Eastern European man forced to live in JFK for six months when he’s denied entry onto US soil, but also can’t fly back to his native country because they’re in a middle of revolution. In those six months, he learns English, befriends many of the people working at the airport, begins a somewhat unrequited romance with a flight attendant played by a surprisingly fetching Catherine Zeta-Jones, and hilariously irritates the head immigration officer more and more by the day — a guy who tries to do everything legally possible to rid himself of the “Navorski problem,” but fails repeatedly. (Stanley Tucci was great in this role, btw)

Yet, despite Hanks’ comedic affectations, Zeta-Jones’ world-weary milfy sexiness, Spielberg’s direction, and great performances by myraid actors, the movie solidified itself on my “top” list because of a single relatively insignificant character — a person who probably spoke less than 500 words the entire flick…

…Zoe Saldana’s Officer Torres…

…my favorite fictional love-interest of all-time. (Honorable mentions: Nia Long’s Brandy from “Boyz n the Hood” and Elastagirl from “The Incredibles” )

In her mere 15 to 20 minutes of screen-time, Saldana’s character somehow managed to exhibit pretty much every quality on my “ideal mate checklist” — compassion, intelligence, humility, romantic optimism, a tight blue uniform, quirkiness; it’s like they intentionally grafted a character straight out of my subconscious.

Aiight. That’s enough from me today. People of VSB, if you could bag (and “bag” in this instance could mean anything from “date” or “court” to “sleep with” or “imprison them in a texas ranch for 15 years“) any fictional character from any book, movie, or TV show, or web series, who would it be? Remember, I’m not referring to real live actors or actresses, but fictional characters who had you completely enthralled.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

That “Cuddle Bunny” Bullsh*t

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That rabbit is not happy.

I have no clue how or why women come up with the terms they come up with for the various random instances of affection and attention.

Boo.

Boobear.

Love muffin.

Skeetskeetmookmook.

Cuddle bunny.

It’s no wonder why our kids in the Black community have the most random first names or are named after medical conditions like Rosacea. Or Excema. Or Herpesia. But motherf*cking cuddle bunny takes the cake. I remember the first time a chick used that term while telling me she’d met a guy that she might be willing to make her cuddle bunny. I was like…whaaaaa? Cuddle what? Did you call that ninja a bunny????

Real spit, calling a man a cuddle bunny is another in the long line of male emasculating terms. Just like calling him harmless or weak or limp-d*ck noodle slanger. If a woman were to actively refer to me as a bunny I might be forced to commit a felony just to keep my own esteem up.

But what is a cuddle bunny? Women all know that its the male equivalent of what happens during cuffin’ season. It’s that guy that women call over to…cuddle. Nothing more, nothing less. Sure the possibility for smangage exists. If you put enough air and opportunity between a man and a woman with an attraction for one another, there’s a strong likelihood that the woodpecker will take care of the morning wood, if you know what I mean, heheheheh.

But that’s not the goal. For many women, having a man be willing to just spoon and cuddle shows her that this man views her in such a light where he’s willing to not have sex with her. He actually just wants to be there with her. Holding her. Wrapping her body tight. My my my. And I think we can all agree that’s the highest form of glory for many women. This man values her as a person, not just a piece of meat. And that’s lovely.

Wonderful even.

But I kind of wonder how many men know they’re being cuddle…bunnied? It’s kind of like the infamous term that we all know and love, jumpoff (as was pointed out to me recently). Men turn chicks into jumpoffs all willy nilly. Or something like that. Except I reject that deposit. No pr0n swallow. Actually…yeah. See, any chick who’s been turned into a jumpoff more or less knows it. Short of pure unadulterated delusion, women know when a man wants nothing more than the snappy nappy dugout. Remember, men suck. We disappear. We only call when its that time. Most chicks who are afraid of being jumpedoff ask a million and one questions to ascertain their status pissing us off in the process but hey, we get it.

A cuddle bunny on the other hand…

[...quick aside...did anybody think Jumping The Broom was a good movie? Do you remember that this movie ever came out? Me neither...]

…is a man who’s trying to get in there – and the chick knows this – who is willing to do what it takes to get there. And ye olde women are exploiting that man’s god nature and heart for personal satisfaction and affection.

Disgusting. Just terrible. That poor sap is over here with balls bluer than Cookie Monster on the 27th ring of Saturn but he’s putting in his work because he’s hoping he’ll get to the promised land, which doesn’t just mean smangage, it could also mean relationship. Basically, any man willing to put up with spooning on multiple occasions actually likes the chick. Except she’s likely not decided what she wants from this dude, ya know, aside from the temporary foot warmer he’s become.

Most women will say that by being the cuddle bunny he’s gaining access to a slot…well not a slot per se but a position…well not a position per se…but a connection that a lot of other men either would love to be in or just wouldn’t have a chance to see. He gets to come to her place and lay up next to her and watch a movie…with her. The lucky guy!

*leprechaun heel click*

Except, she hasn’t decided if this will last past her options or her attention span. And she’s calling the motherf*cker a bunny. So dude’s putting in the simp work, being emasculated, and paying for carry out from Pei Wei Express all for the chance to hopefully get some drawz that actually are on 50/50 status. And yes, I know that sex is a privelege and not a right. Woopty woop woopty woop woop.

All I know is that for all the women out there who feel like they get played by men, if you’ve ever had a “cuddle bunny” then you are just as bad and you should get a stern talking too and finger wag. Let the bunny go. Figuratively and metaphorically.

And stop calling men bunnies. It’s not right. It hurts. It might be provocative and it might get the people going. But it just not right…okay! You can’t just leave cuzzin’ Harold in the street to die.

Real talk.

Ladies, do you believe in having a cuddle bunny? Do you think it’s part of a man’s work to show you he’s worth it? And what’s up with the damn “bunny”? Men…how do you feel about being a cuddle bunny? You’re probably one right now and don’t even know it.

Sad.

Talk to me.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. CUDDLE DEEZ aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Also, check out Panama’s article at Ebony entitled “Motivation: Daddy’s Little Girl” and Champ’s article, also at Ebony entitled “Don’t Be Like Mike”. Ball so hard.

I’m Not Ashamed: That Ignant Sh*t We’re Not Afraid To Like

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Although yesterday’s “Things Bougie Black Girls Say”¹ may have implied otherwise, I don’t have anything against them at all. In fact, I’d say that the vast majority of the 25 to 35 year old women I’m close to qualify. Many of my homegirls are Thai-loving Deltas, and how else would I know that Target makes bougie black girls squirt without being in the room while it happens?

Also — and I’m sure this admission won’t shock anyone reading this — I’m (somewhat) bougie myself.  Brunch is my favorite meal, I too find myself asking “Wait, who else is going?” whenever I’m invited somewhere, and while I won’t join you at the Smiling Banana Leaf, I won’t think twice about dropping 25 bucks for a gourmet cheeseburger.

Despite this bougieness, there are a few particularly anti-bougie things I just can’t get enough of — sh*t that’s about as legitimately tacky, gaudy, uncouth, ignant, and, gasp, ratchet as one can get. I wouldn’t call them guilty pleasures either, because there’s absolutely no guilt involved, no shame in my game. I like it, and if you don’t like the fact that I like it, you can like deez.

This list includes…

Rick Ross

I know his subject matter is about as varied as the skin tones of the crowds at Rick Santorum rallies, and I know his incessant grunting, “uhhh”-ing, and “whooo!!!”-ing occasionally makes it feel like I’m listening to a warthog masturbate, but I can’t deny the fact that his music makes me repeat things like “I levitate on all you p*ssy n*ggas” to myself while waiting in line at Au Bon Pain.

Also, he actually is a good rapper. Panama mentioned this to me a year or so ago and I scoffed at him, but he actually does check all the cadence, word play, and “beatrideability” boxes you’d want.

(Btw, with both Twinkie and Maybach going under within days of each other, isn’t Rick Ross having the worst week ever?)

The Twerk Team, and various other strippers, pseudo porn stars, and kitchen sink twerkers on YouTube and WorldStarHipHop

You ever happen to view some video of some random hoodrat bootyclapping in her bathroom, see that the vid has like 400,000 views, and wonder “Who the hell are these 400,000 people that sit around and watch videos like this all day?”

I’m not saying I’m one of those people, but, well, I’m just not saying that I’m one of those people.

Kool-Aid

Yes, I know it’s nothing but water, sugar, compressed paint chips, and asbestos. Yes, I know that too much of it will give me the gout or the diabeetis. And yes, I know “Hey, you want some Kool-Aid?” makes bougie black girl’s panties drier than KG’s lips.

But, there’s no other beverage that manages to go well with hotcakes, hotdogs, and hangovers alike, and the Kool-Aid test — Can you make a half gallon pitcher without looking at the directions? — is my version of the bougie black girl’s passport test.

American Muscle Cars

My love for Chargers is well-documented, but I don’t think that linked article fully encapsulates my infatuation. Let’s put it this way: You ever play the “what would you buy?” game, where you’re asked what car you’d purchase first if you had an unlimited income? (Btw, if this sentence urges you to leave a comment talking about how we’ll never rise as a people as long as we keep talking about spending money on the white man’s chariot, please quell that urge, and please go stick your head in a toilet and flush it)

Well, while my first choice is usually the Panamera, my second choice is usually “You know, I’d probably just buy a 700 horse power engine and put in my car.” Who cares if this choice shows that my imagination game is on “comatose,” and who gives a damn that the only time I’d actually be able to use the extra horses is when I’m speeding through a yellow light on the way to Trader Joe’s. That’s what I want, if you still have an issue with it, we can meet outside after brunch and “settle” our disagreement.

That’s enough ignance and ratchetrey for me. People of VSB, we already know that you negroes skew bougie, so list some decidedly non-bougie things that you’re not afraid or ashamed to admit that you like.

¹Thought you all might like to know that not only did “Shit Bougie Black Girls Say” have the most unique visits in VSB history, it beat the next closest entry by 17,000. I guess the bougie nerve is quite sensitive. 

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Shit Bougie Black Girls Say

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The bougie black girl's patron saint

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or one of Rick Ross’ breasts for the past month, you’ve undoubtedly seen, read, or heard about “Shit Girls Say” and the dozens of increasingly contrived spin-offs it’s spawned. (Seriously, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if went on YouTube and saw “Shit Gay German-Ethiopian Boys Say To Baltimore Strip-Club Bouncers”)

As a friend and I were discussing these videos earlier in the week, she half-jokingly complained that no one made a video about things her demographic — the biracial woman — says. I corrected her, saying that “Shit Bougie Black Girls Say” would definitely be more appropriate for her “Hampton undergrad, Harvard grad”-ass ass.

Her response was predictable. First, she did what every single black person who’s ever been accused of being bougie by anyone at any time always does first: deny the fact that she’s bougie. Then, she denied the fact that bougie black girls even say or do anything “special enough” to warrant an entire video for them.

As you’ll begin to see in the next paragraph, I disagreed.

“Does he own a passport?”

If you’re ever in doubt as to whether a black girl is truly bougie, ask her if she’d date a guy who didn’t own a passport. If she says something normal like “I guess. I mean, I don’t see why not.” she’s probably not. But, if she recoils in fear, breaks out in hives, and starts running in circles while crying and screaming “NONONONONONONONO!!!!!!” you’ve probably found yourself a bougie black girl.

Bougie black girls reading this, can you explain something to me? What is the big deal with the passport? I mean, I understand loving to travel and wanting your potential beau to be able to travel with you, but what’s preventing you from just asking him to get one. Seriously, the conversation would go exactly like this:

“Hey, I want to go to Spain this summer, and I’d like you to come with me. Do you have a passport?”

“No, nubian princess, God of my Earth, but I’d love to make that trip with you, and I can get one.”

“Cool.” 

(See how easy that was?)

“That’s my favorite Thai restaurant”

For whatever reason, Thai food has catapulted past all other international cuizines as the bougie black girl’s default food of choice, leaving Ethiopian food, Indian food, and p*ssy juice in it’s curry-scented dust.

Perhaps the collective decision to be Thai food philes occurred in one of those mysterious early Saturday morning meetings Delta chapters love to have. If that’s true, it helps to explain why they each have to devote like 30% of their yearly income to Delta dues. They’re not giving back to the main office. They’re putting their money together to fund all these gotdamn Thai restaurants popping up all over the damn place.

Also, note how the bougie black girl says “that’s my favorite” — a linguistic trick letting the listener know that her bougie ass has been to enough Thai restaurants to be able to deem one her favorite.

“I’m not bougie”

I referenced this before — bougie motherf*ckers never seem to want to acknowledge their bougieness — but, the more I think about it, the more I think this denial is inauthentic. I think they enjoy being thought of as bougie because it assigns a certain social status to them. But, since they know it’s not socially acceptable to relish that status, they verbally deny it while doing mental jumping jacks of joy. (“He called me bougie! This means that he thinks I’m worth some effort! Lemme pretend not to be bougie so he doesn’t think I’m too siddity“)

“Where’s brunch?”

Panama’s already touched on this, but bougie black girls love brunch more than fat crackheads love Home Depot.

“I’m so ratchet.”

Sign #318 that you’re definitely, unequivocally, absolutely, unmistakably, positively, and emphatically NOT ratchet: You refer to yourself as ratchet.

“Wait, who’s going to be there?” 

It doesn’t matter if they’re going to a party or just going out to the front lawn to pick up the newspaper, bougie black girls don’t even consider going anywhere unless they know exactly who else is going. Now, finding out that some of the “wrong” people are going doesn’t necessarily stop them from going, but it does influence their attire, mode of transportation, intoxication level, tph (tweets per hour) count, and whether the guy she invites back to her house later “adds to her number.”

“Is he Greek?”

“Greek” can also be replaced with “from here,” done with school,” “driving that,” or “gay”

“Where’d you get that?” “Target, girl.” “OH MY GOD!!!”

You haven’t lived until you listened to two bougie black girls practically orgasm with surprise over a recent purchase one of them made at Target. What makes it even better is the fact that they have the exact same convo with the exact same orgasm of surprise each time at least once a week.

Anyway, people of VSB.com, that’s it for me. Can you think of any more shit that bougie black girls (or guys) say?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)