Black History Month: Home to the weirdest and worst collages ever made

Whether it’s feeling a certain way about the fact that it’s the shortest month of the year, becoming annoyed with the underlying message that Black American history isn’t necessarily American and needs to be segregated, or being forced to remember the time in middle school when, since you were the only black kid in your class, your teacher — a well-intentioned 37 year old Irish-Catholic woman who thought it was appropriate to rock dashikis to school each Feburary — asked you to read a few pages from Jet Magazine aloud in front of the class each day for a month, there are few subjects that inspire the type of collective angst among a population that Black History Month does for Black Americans.

It’s the proverbial perpetually drunk uncle at Thanksgiving: You know he’s coming and you can’t not invite him, so you just hope and pray that he doesn’t get wasted and face-plant into the greens during grace like he did last year.

But, like the drunk uncle, we do actually love and appreciate Black History Month, and we’d miss it if it didn’t show up. Our angst comes from us just wanting it to do…better.

Here’s three possible ways we can make that happen.

1. Move it to May

Boom. In one fell swoop, one of the most common complaints about Black History Month — it’s the shortest month of the year — is rectified.

Why May? Well, two reasons:

A) Aside from the NBA playoffs and Memorial Day (which, for all intents and purposes, is a June holiday anyway), nothing that actually matters happens in May. I’d even go as far as to say that no one born in May has ever mattered¹. (There’s a reason you’re never going to see a coffee table book titled “A Look At The World’s Most Famous Tauruses Taureans“) Since this is true, why not just hijack the entire month? No one is going to feel bad about it. And, even if they do, they were born in May so their opinion doesn’t f*cking matter anyway.

B) Pushing it to the end of the school year will act as a drop-out deterrent for the tens of thousands of black kids who drop out of school every year. Many of these drop outs occur during the end of the school year (Why? The warm weather and the fact that, by that point, knowing they’re going to have to repeat the year makes it easier to chuck the deuces to school²), and putting Black History Month in May will allow black teachers to give em the ultimate guilt trips. You just can’t learn about Marcus Garvey and Sojourner Truth on Tuesday and decide to drop out of school Wednesday.

“So, Harriet Tubman ran barefoot and hungry through five states to escape slavery and your black ass can’t even walk three blocks to school???”

2. Add “Honorary Negros” to the Black History books

Look, I don’t want to minimize the contributions of any African-American who made their mark on history, but there are some things and people celebrated during Black History Month that have a way of making you think “Umm. I know he’s black and all, but does the guy who invented red Kool-Aid really need his own postage stamp?”

So, instead of grasping for historical straws, why not just add a few people who technically aren’t black but have a strong connection to the black community? How cool would it be to have days devoted to white men who date nothing but black women (i.e.: Roger Ebert, Robert De Niro, “Hesh” from The Sopranos, etc), people who invented things that black people love…even though they weren’t actually invented with that purpose in mind (i.e.: James Naismith, whoever invented the button that allows you to lean the driver’s seat back, the angel who convinced God to invent the ass, etc), and Shelia E.?

3. Pressure Congress To Enact “National Piece of The Pie Day”

While it’s great to recognize and honor those who’ve set the foundation for us, part of the Black History month angst has to do with the fact that, while things aren’t all peachy for us now, they’re much,much better then they were in the past. And, hearing about all the great things some of our ancestors did in legitimately sh*tty situations can make us feel like we aint sh*t right now (Which may be true — there’s a likelihood that we collectively aint sh*t — but that’s a different topic for a different day). 

So, to combat this feeling, why not have a day during Black History Month where the national script is flipped and it’s legally mandated that we have to be allowed to do certain things (i.e.: get bank loans, hail cabs, get great service at restaurants, point fingers in police officer’s and president’s faces, etc) that seem to be reserved for non-blacks?

And, as a way to appease the millions of non-blacks who definitely will have an issue with “Piece of The Pie” day, your special privileges will get revoked if you get caught doing certain “black” things the week before. Not going into detail on what exactly I mean by “black” things, but let’s just say that you may want to pick another time of the year to take a 75 minute lunch break or give a waitress a $2 tip on a $37 bill.

Anyway, that’s it for me today, but I’m sure I’m forgetting a few. People of VSB, can you think of any other additions/changes to Black History Month that would make it better?

¹I know Malcolm X was born in May, but why let facts get in the way of a perfectly good point?

²This could actually be true, but I’m totally making this up right now.

—Damon Young aka “The Champ”

This would be me if I was white and she just asked me how I feel about the Kyoto Protocol.

Quite obviously, I am the bees knees. I’m very important and I have many leather bound books and my apartment reeks of fresh mahogany. And ladies, when I get married, it’s going to be on top of a mountain, and there’s going to be flutes playing and trombones and flowers and garlands of fresh herbs. And there will be dancing till the sun rises. And then my children will form a family band. And we will tour the countryside.

You won’t be invited.

I’m all that. Silverfish handcatch swag.

Yet, I realize that there are things about myself that could drive any woman to drink. I know that we spend a lot of time in this corner of the internets explaining why we’re all perfect beings who listen to classical music and sh*t fairy dust couplets of Shakespearean sonnet, but alas…we’re not all without flaw. Personally, I’m just an ordinary people. I don’t know which way to go. My iPhone tells me one thing but my heart tells me something else.

All yokes aside (*rimshot*, no Rusty Trombone), we all love to explain why we’re great dating partners and why everybody else is the problem. Well, today I decided to let you in on the unawesomeness that can be PJ3. Basically, the things about dating me that just might suck. Or at least could drive you absolutely batsh*t. And by you, I mean women in general. Keep in mind, I don’t think that I suck, just that I understand why some things about me could suck to other people who indubitably suck for not being as fawesome as I am. Just like that, I undid all the goodwill.

Allons-y!

1. I get absolutely booooooooooored with politics and deep discourse as a rule

I have a friend who likes to be apart of nothing but deep conversations. Can’t knock her hustle but I’m so not that dude. In fact, I often bore of depth and purposeful rigamaroll. I’ll write about it on occasion and spend time really digging, but at the end of the day, I’d rather talk about why it’s impossible to move as much weight as so-and-so claims. Or pop culture. I love waxing philosophical about pop culture and the characters involved. Basically, while I can speak about things that require reading, I’d rather spend my afternoon talking about ninjadom.You can keep your C-SPAN dreams. I will talk about why we won’t make it as a people though. Ad nauseum.

2. I’m insanely insensitive at times, especially when it comes to race matters

Sometimes I even surprise myself with the sh*t I say outloud. People tend to find it endearing, until they hate me. You think I just write like this? Naw son, I talk like this normally. It’s not a game. Ask all the El Salvadorans I keep calling Mexican. Point is, I’m going to say something insensitive…often. Sensitive ninjas need not apply even though sensitive people love putting in applications for stuff that will burn them. What’s in your wallet?

3. I can seriously eat at the same places every.single.day.

That drives folks crazy. One thing I hate f*cking around with is my food. I do not like ordering sh*t I don’t understand and then not liking the sh*t I didn’t understand in the first place. Basically, I’m a foodie’s worst nightmare. Of course, I’ll try anything once. But its hard for me to appreciate your $35 presentation of sorbet…which I really think you should call sherbert and come in rainbow colors.

4. Speaking of food…I’m always ordering chicken fingers

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, beyotch.

5. I really could do a movie night 7 nights a week

Now I wouldn’t actually force that upon anybody. And also, my movie night isn’t codeword for bone. My Netflix queue is gangbusters, my dealer. I have every bad black movie flagged and I really want to watch them. It’s perfect bonding time because Bad Black Movie Watching is a communal activity and contact sport. Add some liquor to the mix and it’s all good like a Sunday in Baltimore. And just to prove to you that I’m not just trying to swagsurf you out, I may put you out afterwards. Point is, I can see why this could get old for anybody real quick.

6. I hate doing cultural sh*t just for the sake of doing it (same with going out out)

I’ve learned that a lot of people, especially in DC, like to do sh*t just to say they did it because it exists. Can’t knock the hustle, Jay, but eees no me. If I said it, I meant it, bite my tongue for no one. Call me evil? I’m unbelievable. You want to go see that exhibit of the first insecticide repellant plant in African-American history (what?). Naw duke, I’m trying to go get my “Rack City b*tch…rack, rack city b*tch on…”

That’ll do pig.

Well there you go. I put some of my non-sense on blast. Won’t you be my neighbor? What about you might drive other folks crazy?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. BAD BLACK MOVIE KING aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

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”)

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”)

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.

*hug*

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.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TANGLE JIG P aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

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.

Welcome, VSB nation, to our final post of 2011 — a year that can be summarized in one word: Wow. 

It might take 5,000 words to list each memorable moment, so I’ll just settle for the highlights.

The release of a long-awaited book that garnered overwhelmingly positive reviews from many, including celebrities (well, celebrities to reading ninjas, at least) Helena Andrews…

 “Written by Damon “the Champ” Young and Panama Jackson, the two “very smart brothas” behind the blog of the same name, Your Degrees isn’t the latest literary money pit for pitiful women looking to “find, keep and understand a man.” Instead, the book, which reads more like a “best of” blog series (in a good way), is a case study in new-millennium mating for like-minded folk who live near a metro. The book is playful without being patronizing.”

…and The Artist Formerly Known As Sister Toldja

“The 250-page book has consistently remained on Amazon’s top-100 for both love/sex and humor titles since its release at the end of January…and for good reason! It’s a genuinely entertaining read. Though they’re both men, Panama and The Champ (the first Pittburgian…Pittsburger(?) that I ever knew outside of an August Wilson play) do a fantastic job at not throwing women under the bus, nor attempting to make too many excuses for guys when it comes to the behaviors that make the dating game a tough one to play.”

(Hint, Hint: “Your Degrees Won’t Keep You Warm At Night” would make for a great stocking stuffer. Humor, wisdom, and rachetness all in one cheap package. What more can you ask for?) 

The first annual National VSB Day — officially recognized now as February 10th of every year — an event where hundreds of fans of VSB gathered in various cites across the nation (Pittsburgh, D.C., Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, New York City, Oakland/Bay Area, Los Angeles, Dallas, and Miami/South Florida) to meet, greet, and celebrate VerySmartness.

“Three Deez” — The VSB Three Year Anniversary Party and Book Signing — an event that took place on April 2nd, drew over 500 folks (Including numerous VSB veterans. Don’t even want to bother naming who all showed up because I don’t want to forget anyone, but lets just be safe and say that every f*cking body was there) and was notable for three reasons.

1. It marked the first time that Panama and I met in person. (Also was the first and only time that all three of us — Panama, Liz, and I — have ever been at the same place at the same time)

2. It managed to get VSB and SBM together for a picture…

Panama appeared on The Ed Gordon show, and was a featured panelist at the Princeton University’s Hip-Hop: Arts & Life Symposium.

I had spots on the Michael Baisden Show and The Michael Eric Dyson Show, and was a featured panelist at Blogalicious 2011.

We were featured by The Washington Post, interviewed by The Root, named on The Root’s list of 30 Black Bloggers You Should Know, interviewed by Essence, profiled by Black Enterprise, and spotlighted by Edge Magazine. 

We won a record FIVE Black Weblog Awards — (Blog of The Year, Best Writing In a Blog, Best Humor Blog, Best Dating and Relationship Blog, and Best Blog Duo)

We were named on Ebony Magazine’s Annual Power 100 List

(Also, I haven’t seen it yet, but apparently we’re in this week’s Jet Magazine. Kelly Rowland should be on the cover.)

Panama, Liz, and I also continued to spread our wings to other parts of the internet. Editor gigs, writing contracts, featured columns, and Liz even managed to executive produce a series about women exactly like her.

Now, I can’t speak too much about our plans for 2012 yet, but I will say two things…

1. VSB will open the new year with a few, um, changes. I can’t tell you exactly what’s going to happen, but things will be very different around here. Don’t worry, though. These are good changes. (Well, we think they’re good changes, but that remains to be seen)

2.  You know how jaw-dropping it can be to see your favorite book on screen? Well, if “Your Degrees Won’t Keep You Warm At Night” is your favorite book, prepare to have your jaw-dropped in 2012.

None of this — the book, the awards, the recognition, our plans — would have been possible without VSB nation, and trust me when I say that we’re honored and humbled by your continued support. It’s completely amazing to think of how far we’ve come (and how much further we plan to go), and you’ve been there with us every step of the way. We are forever indebted to you, and we sincerely wish each of you a safe and happy holiday season.

See you in 2012

—The Champ

Aww, a Black family without guns. We're like the Obamas.

Make sure you check out the second installment of The Don’ts of Dating: How To Lose A Good Thing in 8 Days (Part 2 of 2) by VSB P and Rahiel over at Urban Cusp. It’s as good as Part 1. Shoot them things and holler, ge-ge-get ‘em girl.

Now you may read that title and think that I mean cheap. But the truth is the key to a woman’s heart isn’t in how much you spend; it’s in how much thought you put into it. See, b*tches love the smiley face. But what they love more than the smiley face is effort and thoughtfulness. Yes fellas, if you spend even five minutes thinking about what you’d like to do to show her that you care you are winning.

And for the record: dinner/movie/smang does not take five minutes to conjure.

Why am I writing this? Well for one, I’m motherf*cking benevolent. For b, it’s Christmas and after you blow all of your dough on Christmas presents, you’re going to need all of January through November to recoup. Ladies, take heed…our pockets are going to be short for the rest of the year. The. rest. of. the. year.

Well here’s a caveat for you fellas. Many of us are afraid of simping out for some woman that we may not even like. Except, you are already interested because you are taking her out. Give it up. Turn it loose. Take off your cool and realize that giving a sh*t about a woman is how we got here. Sure they drive us crazy, but evolution and your namesake can’t show up unless you put in some work.

With that being said, here’s a list of cost-efficient but thoughtful dates that women wouldn’t be mad at.

1. Let’s take, a long walk.

In the middle of the day. On her lunch break. Yep. Show up at her job, call her and tell her to meet you outside because you wanted to take a walk with her. Do you know why you stay winning here? The element of surprise. Women love surprises that show you’re thinking about them. And whats more intimate than taking a walk with somebody? You’re stuck for that however long time you’re traversing those sidewalks in the concrete jungle. Plus women looooooooooooove them some good company. Keep her laughing and smiling and a little innocent random shoulder brushes and she’ll f*ck around and fall in love before you hit 0.2 miles.

2. Picnics

And the crowd said, “duh”. Look, picnics are the great leverage equalizer. Sure you’re trying to get some stank out of her. But you ended up actually liking her. And do you know how I know you ended up liking her? Ain’t no ninja about to expend the energy it takes to put together a picnic on a woman he ain’t feeling. Word.Life. A picnic is not an easy thing to pull off. You have to make everything. Find a locale. Buy a checkered blanket (it ain’t a wifebeater unless its white and it ain’t a picnic unless the blanket is checkered), and you need a basket. You’re going to have to take your happy arse to a Michael’s or something to get a basket. Not a container ninja. Oh, and the point about trying to get you some stank? Well, after you do a picnic (which can be cheap though it takes effort), she’ll be trying to figure out when to give it to you. All you do is win, win, win no matter what.

Oh, and if you combo number 1 and number 2, SHE might propose to you. That’s thoughtful.

3. Go watch the sunset…befo.

There are very few things more romantic than just sitting out and staring at stars or a sunset together. It’s like looking at motherf*cking ducklings, pimpin. You ever take a chick to look at ducklings and not fall in love? You have to be a cold duck (no pun intended) to look at a duckling and not fall in love. Sunset? Ducks? Same sh*t.

4. Museum

I live in DC so this might be cheating but all of our good museums are free. Same with our zoo. Going to the museum intimates culture. And chicks like culture. Even hood rats think going to a museum means something. You get kudos for going to one of the off kilter ones too. Don’t just hit up American History. Hit up Natural History and check out the dinosaur bones. And fossils. Or go to an aquarium. Aquariums rock. Word to Pookie. Our Aquarium in DC is like 8 bucks. And it is an 8 dollar ass aquarium. But it’s underground and its a cool excursion. Because who thinks to go to the Aquarium. That sounds like you thought about it. Thinking? That’s effort, ninja. Or a botanical garden. Go learn something motherf*cker.

5. Things we think white people do

Like ice skating. You saw The Program. Word up.

6. Most importantly, things you heard her say she likes

This one is hard because it requires listening. I know, listening is for suckas. But the truth is, if you listen to a woman talk long enough she’ll give you all kinds of interests of hers and you can take one word like “travel” or “food” and find some cool travel exhibit. For free my ninja! Or take her on a “cook your own ethnic food” date. Actually, that last one might run you. Don’t do it. Buy her an ethnic cookbook and say, let’s cook together. Cooking together? Quality time. And women love quality time. Do you know why? It means you’re thinking about her. Which makes it thoughtful.

Score.

Those are a few ideas. My people, what else do you have? Ladies, help us out. Let us know your most thoughtful date or what would constitute a perfect date to you? And fellas, what else you got. Contribute to the database!!!!

Out.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka TRENDSETTER P aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL YOU A 3

A “He Said”/”She Said” Analysis on Dating, Love and Relationships

"My girl grillin' me. I got to go. This isn't going to end well."

What happens when you ask a group of women to tell you about some of the worst habits that men from their past have shared in common? They instantly become great writers, historians, and comedians who don’t shy away from exclamation marks and ALL CAPS. Here’s a short list of things guaranteed to drive 99.9% of good women away and how a man might justify doing these things, from two people who have been there (or who at least know someone who has).

1)    Habitually “checking in” and then falling off

Rahiel: His nickname is Mr. Check-in. Why? Because he’s the king of “I’m just checking in.” Rain, sleet, or snow – he’s guaranteed to call, text or email to ask about her day, family, and current affairs (like conflict in the Middle East). But it never amounts to anything (dates, a relationship, meaningful dialogue) besides him soon falling off of the face of the earth. Only to resurface weeks or months later – just in time to “check-in” again. He has seemingly devoted his life to keeping a foot in the door until she finally figures it all out and tells him to “checkout” or simply gives him a taste of his own disappearing act.

Panama: Is it really men’s fault that we like being cordial? In fact, it’s women’s fault for assuming all of those convos are supposed to lead anywhere. Plus, only in a woman’s mind does a man calling to ask sincere questions about how she’s doing and what she’s up to come across as rude and disingenuous. If it was your insurance salesman, you’d be pleased as punch. Your dentist calls every six months, but if we do it, then we’re playing games? I’m calling shenanigans on this one. We “check in” because you crossed our mind – plain and simple. Be glad somebody’s thinking about you instead of being upset that somebody out there in this great big world thought enough to send a simple, “I hope all is well.” I’m convinced that women and bobcats are the only species on the planet who believe that every single action has to lead to something. Live like the honey badger. Besides, you’ll be dead soon enough and nobody will text you then.

2)    Doing the bare minimum

Rahiel: He asks her out on a date, she accepts, and he responds, “So, figure out what you want to do and let me know.” This is what one of my girls had to say about that: “Why do I now have to plan everything?  Wasn’t this date your idea?  I think it says a lot if a man at least puts forth the effort to suggest something you could do on your date OR God forbid actually has everything planned. I think the complete lack of effort is either laziness, lack of leadership ability, or a sign of a self-centered man who does not think he needs to put forth any effort all.” This doesn’t mean that the blueprint has to be laid out, but where’s the initiative? Having ideas in mind and having made efforts to plan things out suggest interest, responsibility, and consideration for others. And those things never go out of style – even if you think chivalry has.

Panama: I totally agree on this one. Any man who won’t put at least a little effort into planning probably isn’t really that into you. I’ve been that guy before and I honestly feel bad about it sometimes. I’m almost sure I owe a few apologies too. But you live and you learn. You know what though? You have to be careful with this one as well – not to read too much into it. Some guys are just chock full of knowledge of random and interesting things to do because they like doing them. Of course, those guys are a win for you. Just remember, you might feel special, but he took a chick hang-gliding yesterday too, boo. But in general, the least a man can do is plan a day or an evening that you’ll spend together unless it’s agreed upon that you’ll just be streaming Netflix movies and ordering take out. Or watching reality television. Or yada yada yada.

3)    Acting like a “sweatbox”

Rahiel: Growing up in DC, there were particular words you never wanted associated with your name. After bamma and hoodrat, sweatbox was high on the list. The term has historically been used to reference a man or woman who excessively admires another individual – to an embarrassing (for all) extent. Somewhat of an unsolicited hype man. Sweatboxes weren’t cool back then, and they’re not cool now. Women may vary in what they deem as an “acceptable sweat level,” but no one (in their right mind) wants to be contacted so much by you that it borders on stalking and begs the question: you don’t have anything better to do in life than worship the ground I walk on? 

Panama: Again, I’m calling shenanigans. This is complete and utter nonsense. And do you know why? You only feel this way about the guys you’re not interested in. If you are feeling him then he can’t call you enough. If you like him he can text you 1,000 times a day and you’ll think each one just shows how much he likes you. You’ll rave to your friends about how much communication you all share. THEN you’ll always be available whenever he’s available. This is only an issue when the dude you aren’t interested in keeps calling you. That dude is a nuisance. That dude doesn’t get the message that you’re not interested. That guy is the “sweatbox”. The guy you like? That guy is thoughtful and charming and can’t seem to get enough of you. That guy treats you like a queen… and worships the ground you walk on and you love it. Miss me with this one.

4)    Talking a good game but never following through

Rahiel: He didn’t enroll in “How to Keep a Woman Happy 101” while in school and therefore doesn’t know that he should never tell her he’s going to do something and not actually do it. To him it’s just a phone call that he neglected to make (for the 100^th time nonetheless), but to her it’s an epic failure and betrayal. Why? Because if she can’t take his words to the bank and trust that she’ll get a return on them, then they’ll quickly become null and void to her.  And we all know that if you’ve lost a woman’s trust, you’ve ultimately committed relationship suicide. One word sums this all up: integrity. One female friend informed me that a lot of her girls have resorted to launching hi-tech investigations on new men that come into their lives.  This entails checking all social media sites,  wedding websites, and the registry lists of popular stores for wedding and/or baby registries. Really? It’s THAT serious now? What ever happened to full disclosure?

Panama: Seems to me like you’re talking about two different things: follow through and honesty. Now yes, they are related, but obviously, some men don’t follow through because they don’t mean it in the first place. Blame the first woman who ever let him off the hook: his mama. Plus he’s probably only saying what he thinks you want to hear and it isn’t worth it to him to follow through because what he wants from you and what he gets are one and the same. No need to do better for you because he isn’t convinced that he can’t do better than you. Now on the honesty side of things, well, we all lie. Or rather we all tell versions of our own truths; women too. Y’all don’t tell men upfront that you’re crazy just like he didn’t tell you that he had a wife. Equal trade off? Nope. But you’ll probably both end up dead in a few months dealing with each other anyway so whoopty do. By the way, while I do understand the desire to do a Google search on anybody you meet, some women take it too far. If you keep trying to find something wrong, you WILL find something wrong. Real talk, what happens in Mexico that ends up in the press, STAYS in Mexico. Oh and miss me on the full disclosure because very few women are going to put their nonsense in the street while expecting the man to let her know everything she needs to move forward. Women are information hoarders without wanting to do the same. Stop it.

***

Ladies? Fellas? What’s your take on those situations? Talk to me.

-VSB P and Rahiel Tesfamariam

Check back tomorrow on Urban Cusp for Part 2 of this series.

Meet Urban Cusp’s founder/editorial director Rahiel. You can follow her on Twitter @RahielT. Follow Urban Cusp at @UrbanCusp and join Urban Cusp’s fan page on Facebook.

I was drunk and it was my birthday anyway.

Here at VSB, we aim to provide as much help as we can. And most, if not all of it, is intended to bring peace on Earth and goodwill towards men (or women). It is Christmas time after all. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling all Trans-Siberian orchestrated.

Canons to the…nevermind.

Ahem.

Despite all of the salvation, all help doesn’t have to be of the warm and fluffy variety. Sometimes you need help getting out of bad situations where nobody wins, except for the person who gets out of the situation (it makes sense if don’t think about it). But here’s the thing, NOBODY likes being the bad guy. Sometimes, for better or worse, you have to create an opportunity where one doesn’t exist.

Nothing sucks more than being stuck in a relationship you don’t want to be in. So here are some ways to get out of one without having to be the bad guy/gal; created opportunities, if you will.

1. Say “I love you” too soon

Nothing pushes people away faster than being TOO far along in your feelings in a relatively short amount of time. So yes, this only works within the first few months of dating. But say you realize that you’re not really feeling the Becky you’re dating. Or say Jamal is just a little bit more needy than you like, but its clear that you’re both “into” one another but not attached enough to cry if you all “broke up”. Just say you love them during a deep convo and I’ll bet you see more backpedaling and “I’m busy” texts than Herman Cain being asked if there was a white woman he didn’t smang.

By the way, this ONLY works with rational people. Know your audience.

2. Move

Not move across the city; no, move states. Skip town. But let them know that you have to leave and that you can’t fathom the idea of a long distance relationship and you want them to be free because you care about them enough to not want to trap them into frustration. Wow, that’s actually a pretty good line. Use it. And then just use me up.

3. Become extremely needy and clingy (cousin to “I love you”)

We’re talking stage-5 clinger here too. Once again, this generally only works on emotionally stable people. Everybody loves space, even married people. If you can’t take being with your guy/gal anymore and need a quick out for which they do the kicking…literally become their shadow. Always want to be where they are or where they’re going. Don’t do anything too stalkerish or crazy because then you might end up on a website (hey Mike, welcome to VSB) or the local news. Do just enough to be needy, but not enough for them to really be able to talk to others about you in a way where people say you’re crazy. Do you know why? Because he/she probably has hot friends who might make for great rebounds.

4. Start doing whatever it is that they hate

They hate a certain cologne? Start wearing it and then refuse to change for them. They hate that you are a flirt? Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. I mean, keep flirting. Give them a reason to kick you to the curb. But once again, only do so much as to be a problem, don’t actually do anything wrong. Karma is a cold-hearted b*tch. The key here is consistency. You can’t let up. You’ve got to become annoying while maintaining your charm in case you meet somebody while you’re out annoying your significant other.

5. Talk about your future together, but keep contrasting it with their hopes

They don’t want children? So sad because you want at least four. The Walton’s were your model family and you’d like to keep tradition alive. They want to live in the suburbs? Not you kicko, it’s all 1 bedroom condos and alley-view love. They want to start a business and get rich? F*ck that, you’re about Occupy somebody’s street as soon as you get off work. Basically, your goal here is to make them realize there’s no plausible future with you. It works.

Now, since you know I’d walk a thousand miles so I could just see you, I’m curious as to what other ways might be plausible to help push along a breakup without being the bad guy? While it is indeed cuffing season right now, some people are out there making BAD decisions on who they mess with. Let’s do a service towards that goodwill towards mankind.

Help your friends out.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. GETGULLY aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

See how cute they look? They're precious and sh*t.

Something dawned on me while reading the comments to yesterday’s post. Wearing some sort of protection while having sex has always been sold as the right and the smart and the healthy thing to do, and this pitch is usually accompanied with all the horrible things that can possibly happen to you — STDs, pregnancy, pulled pork vaginas, etc — to scare people into doing it. And, while fear is definitely a great motivator (perhaps our greatest motivator), how fun is it do to something just because you’re worried about what would happen if you didn’t? (At this point, feel free to insert whatever analogy you want to about religion.)

No object better embodies this feeling than the condom, which is either thought of as (at best) a necessarily evil or (at worst) just plain motherf*cking evil. With this in mind, I decided to devote today to a few cool reasons for guys to strap up.

1. Less sensitivity = Longer sessions

No one will argue that sex with a condom feels better than condom-less sex, but you could make the argument that wearing a condom can actually produce better sex. I’d estimate that wearing one increases your PPS count (PPS = Pumps Per Session) count by 30%. Basically, if you’re a guy who can typically give 40-60 good pumps before succumbing to the vagina monster, with a condom that number jumps to 52-78 pumps. That little jump right there can be the difference between a woman wanting to cuddle and talk and sh*t to you afterwards and her catching a case of PBBSN (PBBSN = Post-Back Breaking Sudden Narcolepsy) and just falling the hell out.

2. It’s much easier to fake it

Sh*t happens sometimes.

3. No clean up

Easily the worst part of sex, the always messy, always sticky post-coital clean up is — according to the Mormons — God’s way of shaming us for not ejaculating inside of a woman. Now, was that last sentence actually true? Who knows and who cares? I do know, though, that if you don’t have enough game to convince her to perform the neatest option (swallowing), a condom is the next best choice.

4. Worry-less sex

While raw sex is great, you can never allow yourself to fully commit mentally because, from “I hope I pull out in time” to “Wait, did I pull out in time?” you have too much else on your mind. Condoms allow you to go full sexual retard.

5. Buying them makes you feel like a grown-ass man

Along with paying your bills, buying produce, and checking Facebook and seeing that your high school prom date has just welcomed her second grandchild, walking in a store and buying condoms is one of those tasks that just makes you feel like a grown-ass man. Also, for those who feel a little awkward about the look the cashier might give you when you’re at the register, just remember that you’re basically announcing “Yup, dry-d*ck motherf*ckers, I’m about to get some. How do you like those apples?” to everybody in line.

Anyway, that’s it for me today. People of VSB, condoms need some better PR, so can you think of any other really cool reasons why we should wear them?

—The Champ