The Booty Call Agreement

So this morning you woke up to a warm body next to you and was served breakfast in bed with the groceries you purchased with your hard earned money.  Did you miss something?  Somewhere during the night of your wild, scandalous and sadistic booty call, your FWB (friend with benefits) got the impression that your good wet-wet was an open invitation to a monogamous relationship.  News flash, moron: IT WAS JUST SEX!

More times than often one of your bed pals can get the wrong impression with just one twist of the body, one bounce of the rod or one moment too long of cuddle time and suddenly think tomorrow is the day you two set aside to go ring shopping.  This is what happens when one person gets a little too ancy about falling in love.  We’ve discussed this before in our Sex Ed 101 class.  Bumping pelvises is not the same thing as the pretentious promise, “I do.”

You should not have any regrets for wetting your whistle with someone else’s body spit.  It’s one of the many joys of life; one of the rewards for being single.  Some may argue it’s one of the rewards for being a lying, dastardly, cheating bastard (for those who are already committed).  The sex may have been great last night.  It may have been even greater this  morning, because there’s nothing like a ‘morning after’.  However you must be clear to the person you’re boning that it’s nothing more than sex – a desperate, yearning need to be filled with the pleasures of someone else’s sexual and willing desire.   After it’s all said and done, it’s more than likely that you’ll want them to dissipate into the sheets as if they were never there (once you’ve experienced the big “O” and washed their scent off your body of course).

Booty calls are good but they’re also misleading.  So the next time you invite someone over to your place to quench your horny thirst, be sure to have a visible stack of “booty call agreements” sitting on your nightstand.

A)  You want your partner to know they’re not the only one you’re screwing.  That way there’s no reason for them to get their hopes up of an oncoming relationship, no matter how good the f*ck is.

B)  They’ll know what to expect from the night, and

C)  What you expect from them.

See sample booty call agreement below:

If they are still blinded by your juicy va-jay-jay or steel power jack, feed them the same old clichés you’ve fed to all the other losers who misinterpreted your late night romper room calls:

Sometimes all a person needs is a good ol’ ego boost, a $20 bill or a scathing threat to get the message that you got what you needed from them and that’s all there is to it.  It doesn’t take much effort to give anyone the boot once they’ve signed that agreement.  It’s a binding contract.  It takes more effort to let them stay and lead them on than it does to be honest and kick them out.  They’ll be back.  They’ve already shown you how horny and delusional they are.  At this point, you have the upper hand.

Quote of the week:    “It is not uncommon for slight acquaintances to get married, but a couple really have to know each other to get divorced.”

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Honey, It’s Not You. It’s Me: The Scientific Truth Behind Morning Wood


Not TonightI’m going to do you a favor and hip you to some 411. You are not as sexy as you think you are first thing in the morning. Don’t get me wrong. Wearing over-sized pink rollers with your head wrapped in the filthiest sheer scarf you can find may turn some men on. Morning breath may turn some men on. Those men are weird. But not all men are weird…all the time. And contrary to popular belief, not all men are horny when they wake up. …well, again, not all the time.

Usually, when you ladies wake up in the morning and are stabbed in the nape of your back from your beau’s jimmie, I’m sorry to say, it has nothing to do with your unflattering scarf and crinkled neck hair.  It has everything to do with nocturnal penile tumescence, or morning wood, as some would so eloquently refer to it. Nocturnal penile tumescence is a spontaneous erection of the penis during sleep or when waking up. All men without physiological erectile dysfunction experience nocturnal penile tumescence, usually three to five times during the night. Now that I think about it, when your man goes to choke his chicken at 3am, it’s not because you’ve turned him on soooooo much with your snoring, it’s because of this spontaneous erection that he must tend to before his balls explode.

The cause of nocturnal penile tumescence is not exactly known, but it is guessed that the hormones of the part of the brainstem involved with responses to stress or panic (scientifically referred to as locus ceruleus, so I’ve been told. I was kind of known for skipping biology class in school) allows testosterone-related excitatory actions to manifest as nocturnal penile tumescence. While we’re sleeping, a little angelic devil whispers in our ear that it’s time to lay the pipe!  In other words, whether or not there’s a phat butt pressed against our “little big friend,” us men are going to wake up ready to release and there’s nothing a woman’s bad morning breath or ratty old scarf can do to stop the urge! Their phat butt is just icing on the cake (no pun intended).

Fellas, if you ask me, this is the perfect time to say to your woman, “It’s not you. It’s me.” Wait. That conversation may not end well either. You get my point.

P.S. Ladies,

You’re welcome. I think.

Quote of the Week:  “We firmly believe there is more to life than money, sex and beer (not necessarily in that order). We just don’t know what it is.”

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Summer Sizzles! Break Up to Make Out

The summer is sizzling and unfortunately, so are the tempers!  With each increasing degree of summer’s blaze, more and more clothes are peeling off, revealing to men and women alike, the glistening skin of toned upper torsos and perky ta-tas.  Tis the season to be jolly, just as long as you are single.

Smart mouths, bickering gripes, and wandering eyes are what most people have to look forward to this summer.  Short skirts and tank-tops are the season’s way of reminding bunned-up couples that it’s time to ditch their mates and flirt with every passer by who’ll look at the sweat dripping in all the right places for all the scandalously wrong reasons.

Get ready folks.  A rumblin’ is a comin’.

It’s no secret that most relationships die off around the holidays – specifically birthdays, Christmas and Valentine’s Day, so the cheap one in the relationship doesn’t have to buy the needy one a gift.  But when the summer months come around, it’s a horse of a different color!  Men workout more to lift those perfect pecks while women eat less to give their waistline the ideal measure to accentuate those perfect boobs and that chewable apple bottom.  The name of the game is to look your best and flaunt all your assets because now is the time more people are going to be interested in what you have to offer — sans conversation, intelligence. accomplishments and all that extra mumbo jumbo.

During the hot season of summer, women are less likely to roll their eyes at a man for greeting her with a false sense of intention. Seemingly, men are more on top of their “game” because the woman is often times, much easier than she’d be if the chill in the air was as rigid as the chip on her shoulder.   It’s easy pickings.  One trollop after another.  One trip to the clinic waiting to happen.  No repercussions.  No explanations.  No ifs, ands or buts.

But don’t be fooled by the nearly naked.  These skanks-in-waiting are merely on loan.  The break-ups people encounter for the summer for reckless sexual arousal are usually temporary.  You can’t place much expectation in a dry hump on a hot July night.  The hump is just a hump and it ordinarily leads to an open gate of more activity with more players to the field.  The summer is typically not the right time to try to get into a relationship.  That’s what the rest of the year is for – again, except for the above mentioned holidays – birthdays, Christmas and Valentine’s Day (for all you cheap readers out there). 

The next time your mate picks a fight with you, don’t take it personally.  It’s just a change of a season.  Well…maybe you can take it a little personally considering they’re only doing it for a free-for-all for those half dressed scoundrels who look better out of clothes than you do.  Let them go.  Like a boomerang, they’ll come back.  In the meantime, don’t feel guilty for wearing less material and showing off more of your own body parts.  Hey – if you got it, flaunt it.  You’ll appreciate the attention in the long run.  You’ll also have quite a little memory in the back of your mind when winter has returned and you and your lover aren’t speaking over some dumb argument that made no sense in the first place.  Just because you’re at the mall doesn’t mean you can’t shop…especially if there’s a return policy in effect.

This summer, go out.  Take a little off and see where, what and to whom it leads.  Stella got her groove back in the summer months.  So can you.

Quote of the week:   “Eagles may soar in the clouds, but weasels never get sucked into jet engines.”


Interview with the Blanche Devereaux of the Projects

Many say that you only fall in love once, but there are some people who believe that theory to be total B.S.  For those of you who don’t believe you can find true love more than once in a lifetime, you obviously haven’t met LaShawnquonifa Latoya Fu – “FuFu” for short; the Blanche Devereaux of the projects. sat down with FuFu to get her take on the subject of love.

“It couldn’t be a colder day on the planet where I stand in front of an ice cream truck, shivering in me’ knickers, in the middle of a neighborhood where the only thing that looks safe is the corner stop sign.  Finally after checking my watch for the fourth time, up walks the fabulous FuFu, clad in her oversized bamboo earrings, gold teeth and kinky tracks.”



Hottywood:  What’s up, beautiful?  Come here and show me some love!  You’re looking delicious as always.


FuFu:  Thanks, boo-boo.  You know how I roll.  You wanna taste?


“…Now if the ice cream truck in the dead of winter in the middle of a neighborhood where everyone wears designer bullet proof vests wasn’t a big enough  DO NOT ENTER sign, FuFu’s stank wedgie walk and peek-a-boo sandals should’ve been the only red flag I needed.  I could barely take in all of her tackiness because my eyes were locked on her cold ass toes.  On the bright side, any ice cream truck that sells steak & cheese sandwiches and chicken wings, whether it’s the winter time or the summer, has got to be worth the risk.”

Hottywood:  Uh, no.  I’m not real particular on leftovers, but thanks for the offer.  But that’s what we’re here to talk about, right?  I hate to get right to business but it’s colder than a muhfukkah out here!  HA!  Eh look, thanks for taking the time to talk with me.


FuFu:  Oh you know I’ll do anything for you.  You can get it!


Hottywood:  You play too much.  We can talk about that later, off the record.  For now let’s talk relationships. As I’ve been talking to people off the block, I’ve learned that a lot of folk believe a person can only fall in love once in a lifetime; twice if you’re lucky.  But you seem to be the exception to the rule.  You’ve managed to find love many many many many many times with just about every dude in the neighborhood.  There are names for people like you.  “…Social Butterfly.”

“I bet you thought I was going to say something else, didn’t you?”

Hottywood: What’s your secret?


FuFu:  First of all, I ain’t no weak ass butterfly.  I’m a cross between a sting ray and a peacock.  Mmm hmm.  Yup.  And B) the secret is, “keep no secrets.”  People who keep secrets have something to hide.  That make people don’t trust you and stuff.  I just keep it real with people and roll with people who keep it real with me.  Especially dudes that keep it real.  Mmph!  That sh*t is sexy as a mug!   But see, some of these hoes out here be thinking they can bottle their sh*t up and sell it.  I ain’t like that.   I ain’t selling my sh*t fo’ nobody!  That’s just nasty.


Hottywood:  Um…  Cause if you sold it that would make you a whore?


FuFu:  Yeah, boo!  There you go!  You know what I’m talkin’ about.  And I ain’t nobody’s whore.  I respect myself too much for that, shuuuu.

“I have to be honest with you.  FuFu’s high pitched voice is slowly tearing the inside of my ears.  I really don’t know what the hell she just said and her chewing gum is damn near trying to jump out of her mouth.”

FuFu:  When I kick it with a dude I’m down for whatever.  Ride or die chick, like Eve.  But Ion’t get down until I know it’s the real thing.  Love.  True love.  Dudes don’t be trying to show their feelings cause they want to look all hard in front of all their boys and stuff, but when we be kicking it at his house or my house, or around back in the laundry room stairwell, they always tell me they love me.


Hottywood:  …Okaaaay…so explain to me how you’ve been so “lucky” to fall in love so many times and particularly with every guy on the block.  You don’t think that’s a little ironic?


FuFu:  Ion’t know.  I guess it’s just meant for me to have a boyfriend or something.  It’s just meant to be.  Right under my nose ring.


Hottywood:  Do you have a boyfriend now?


FuFu:  No, not right now.  But it’s funny ’cause as soon as a guy just stops calling me, one of his friends comes up and tells me he’s been eyeing me er’y since I hooked up with whoever just broke up with me.  Next thing you know, they be bringing me french fries with extra salt, pepper and ketchup and buying me all these drinks at the club and stuff.  Ion’t know, something about a man who wines and dines me just gets my coochie wet, you know?


Hottywood:  And just like that you move on from your last relationship on to a new one…?


FuFu:  Mmm hmm.


Hottywood:  And these relationships are serious[?].  And physical I assume.  They tell you they love you; do you love them?


FuFu:  Of course I love them.  Ion’t just sleep around unless I know I love somebody.  I’m a classy b*tch.  Plus I like french fries.


Hottywood:  Wait.  I’m a little confused.  So they tell you they love you and then ya’ll go do your business?


FuFu:  Yeah.  Whatchu think this is? Ion’t know why, dudes just be falling in love with me real quick.  It must be my pretty smile or sum’in.


Hottywood:  But these guys all know each other which obviously means they know about you.  You don’t think it’s a little strange that your ex-boyfriends’ friends suddenly become interested after you’ve broken up?


FuFu:  What’s strange about that?


Hottywood:  You’re right.  What could I possibly be thinking?  Do any of your exes call you?


FuFu:  Whatchu mean, for like booty calls and stuff or just to talk?


Hottywood:  Yeah.  What you said.


FuFu:  They do, and we’re cool and stuff.   Well, except for me and my babys’ fathers.  But er’ybody else is cool.  I just don’t let none of ‘em come over if I’m dating someone else.  That would be disrespectful, you know what I mean?  Oh and Ion’t want my kids to see all that, you know?  I gotta set an example and sh*t.


Hottywood:  So if you’re not dating then they can come over for a conjugal?


FuFu:  A what?


Hottywood:  A conjugal…  …a booty call.


FuFu:  Oh.  Yeah, why not?  Ion’t have no problem with that if I ain’t committed.  And sometimes they be telling me they miss me and want to come by to give me money to get my hair done or buy a new fake Louis Vuitton bag or some shoes or sum’in.  So you know it’s all good.


Hottywood:  Oh well that’s different.  That’s not to be confused with putting yourself out there for money though, right?


“Does anyone else see RED FLAGS all over this???”

FuFu:  Unh Unh.  I ain’t standing on no street corner or nuffin.  They just be giving me money.  The funny part is after it’s all over, if I get in the shower or fall asleep or something, when I wake up or come back in the room, money just be sitting on the bed or the dresser.  Ion’t even have to ask for it.  Ain’t that sweet?

“Smells rotten if you ask me.”

I just seem to attract a lot of men and Ion’t even have to leave my street to meet ‘em.  I think a lot girls be jealous of me and stuff but I can’t help that I’m popular and easy on the eyes.


Hottywood:  Easy?


FuFu:  Mmm Hmm; …easy on the eyes.


Hottywood:  Oh, oh, oh.  Yeah right.  That’s what I thought you said.  …So you like the way things are right now?  Everything’s going great?  …you’re happy?


FuFu:  Hell yeah boo-boo.  I mean, I wish I had a boyfriend or something right now, but I’m patient.  Why?  You trying to come over?


“Either a gunshot went off in the alley next to the ice cream truck or FuFu is throwing me a low blow. There is no other word to describe this moment better than, ‘…um.'”

I hate to interrupt the flow of the story, kiddies, but sadly the interview continued to take a quick trip down a short drain. And by that I mean I couldn’t stomach the ignorance of this broad.  FuFu is a cool chick and all and definitely someone worth having around when the carry out cashier tries to overcharge you for your food, but there’s only so much naivete’ one can take.

She went on and on about her ideal husband, describing him as someone who would have a lot of money, drive a big truck, and always offer her some of his beer. “…You know, what every woman looks for in a man.”  Her words.  Not mine.

After a few more shameless passes, gum popping and head pats, FuFu received a phone call from her ex, Datrell (but everyone around the way calls him Briefcase because he handles his business.)

He offered to take her to a movie and Burger King, so she had to get the coarse baby hair on the back of her neck straightened out and find a babysitter.  She asked me if I could watch her kids, but unfortunately it was the anniversary of the first day I ever noticed someone’s toenails could actually scrape the ground.  I had big plans.  I know, I know. Darn the luck.

Whatever the case for the end of the Q & A, I was thankful.  Never in my life have I had the UNpleasure of talking to someone so blinded, without morals and completely oblivious to her own self-values.

Ladies, and this goes to you, too, fellas; don’t get stuck in a box.  The world and the lives that it ensues are way too big for that.  It’s not worth anything at all if you keep being good at something you’re bad at.  Don’t be a LaShawnquonifa.

Quote of the Week:    “It’s not worth anything at all if you keep being good at something you’re bad at.”


11 Things That May Look Good To You But Aren’t Good For You

1. Quadruple bacon cheeseburgers – Though it may taste and smell good, quadruple bacon cheeseburgers will clog your arteries and drive you one step closer to your doom. If by chance you suffer death by cheeseburger, at least you’ll die happy with crumbs around your mouth. Let’s just hope the crumbs are from the cheeseburger, otherwise there’s one more thing to add to this list of things that may look good to you but aren’t good for you. Maybe not, I can’t imagine that shit looking good either.

quadruple cheeseburger

2. Cinnamon roll flavored vodka – It may sound good. It may even smell good, but this cocktail is so sweet you can almost feel your kidneys melting from the inside out.  There’s one thing that should never be turned into an alcohol and that’s a cinnamon roll. Let’s all just die from the sugary glaze the way God and pastry chefs intended.

Cinnamon Bun Flavored


3. Men – You never know what’s in their pants. It may be a golden rod, but the disease (s) they could be carrying will have you seeing red until you turn blue, and are tucked away in a pretty box deep in a black hole 6 feet beneath your toes.


4. Women – You never know what’s under their skirts. It may be the sweetest nectar, but the disease (s) they could be carrying will have you seeing red until you turn blue, and are tucked away in a pretty box deep in a black hole 6 feet beneath your toes. Also, depending on the time of the month, they may exude multiple personalities, all of whom are related to the Bride of Chucky. …unless you like that sort of thing. And if you do, then YOU should be added to this list of things that may look good to you but aren’t good for you.

creepy woman

5. Stripes – Stripes only look good on skinny celebrities who pay others to pick the most flattering patterns for their skinny ass bodies. Whether the world wants to believe it or not, not everyone looks like a skinny ass celebrity that can afford to pay someone to make them look good. Also, stripes are easily equated with prison inmates, which is arguably another item that can be added to this list.


6. Any medicine with a warning label – Feel good for a minute or die the death of a million dooms?


  • Swelling of the tongue, which interrupts sexual activity
  • Extreme diarrhea, which interrupts sexual activity
  • Causes headaches, backaches, and stomach aches, which interrupts sexual activity
  • Makes your butt itch, which is a sexual NO NO
  • Backs up your urinal flow, which interrupts sexual activity
  • Causes you to go temporarily blind forever, which in some cases after an extreme amount of alcohol can increase your sexual activity. This warning may actually work in your favor, although you should be mindful of numbers 3 and 4.


7. Church members – the devil knows how to play dress up in big hats and expensive neckties. Keep messing with the devil and he will certainly make you cuss someone the hell out!

Church Members

8. Apartment complex leasing offices – Wherever you decide to move, the leasing office will almost always be the most well-kept building in the complex. Every other apartment unit might as well be located in the alley next door to a Chinese carryout in the hood.  Also, the nice, friendly voices on the phone when you call the leasing office usually never matches the ugly attitudes you encounter when physically visiting the office. #InvasionOfTheBodySnatchers

Leasing Office

run down apartment


9. Kids – Kids are great as long as you can give them back to their parents. They pee in the bed, lie, steal, beat up other kids, beat up other adults, set cats on fire, learn to speak and think for themselves, which is a scary thought all by itself, and cost more money than an average person makes in a lifetime, unless of course you’re Beyonce or Oprah.  But they’re still cute. Most of them anyway.

bad kids

10. Low pay for just causes – No one is typically warned that the average working class citizen sees about $5 of recreational money out of every paycheck. Between bills, taxes, kids, spouses, jump offs, and quadruple cheeseburgers, a person needs to save $5 per paycheck to eventually afford a nice coffin, burial plot, and people to bribe to come to their funeral.


11. Cursing – Curse words are typically used by people too ignorant or lazy to come up with better words of expression or explanation. Personally I must be lazy as shit. Oh wait. See what I mean?


Quote of the Week:  “Man who lives in glass house should change clothes in basement.”

Please Leave a Message at the Beep…or Don’t. I Don’t Care


“I’m sorry I’m not available to receive your call, but if you will leave your name, number, and a brief detail of the purpose of your call, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a great day!”


PHONE MESSAGEMaybe I was born under a rock, but whenever I get this message when I DO bother to call someone, I follow directions; leave my name, number and a brief detail of the purpose of my call, and then wait for someone to call me back. What I don’t do (and what I hate when anyone does it to me) is call the number back three, four or five THOUSAND more times until someone gets on the phone, annoyed enough to tell me to stop calling just before they hang up on me and block my number.

Guys and gals – especially if you are a guy or a gal that’s calling someone because you want to borrow money, sugar or get some ass – don’t do this! Just don’t. It’s intrusive, inconsiderate and pressed. It also implies that you can’t follow directions, which automatically makes one assume you were a D student in school who failed every subject except lunch.

I could elaborate on this, but I think I’ve spelled everything out in black and white. Oh wait…I forgot. Some of you are D students who failed every subject in school except lunch. I guess that would include English and Reading. So for the sake of argument, when you hear this:


“I’m not so sorry that I’m not available to receive your call, because chances are you are going to call back any way and disregard my opening statement that clearly states I’m not available to receive your call. I guess if you must, you can leave your name and number. There’s no need to leave a reason for your call because the chances of me not caring are great. I might call you back, depending on the number of times I see your number on my caller ID. You are most likely calling because you want something that I am unable or unwilling to give.  Listen for the beep and decide wisely on how you will proceed. Bye.”


Follow the damn directions and sit back and be patient. GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE THAT WAIT.

Quote of the Week:  “When you ignore a phone call, the phone seems to ring longer than usual.”

For the Love of God, Get to the Point Already!

Far be it from me to be rude (any time after 3PM; or when someone I don’t like tries to hold an extended conversation with me or anyone that I know; or if I’ve not had sex in more than 4 days; or if my Chinese food doesn’t taste as tasty as I anticipate; or when I’ve been asked a stupid question first thing in the morning; or if I don’t like the way my barber cuts my hair; or…aww hell, I guess it isn’t that far from me to be rude), but if there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s when someone refuses to get to the point of a story…much like I just did with this first paragraph.

Last week I asked a friend about the status of her failing relationship. This week, I’m still waiting on the results of the status. I kid you not, she’s still describing the outfit she wore during the argument she had with her boyfriend that led me to ask about the status of the relationship. I guess it’s needless to say I no longer give a damn about her, her (I don’t know if he’s now her ex) boyfriend, or their relationship. And even more needless to say I don’t give a damn about what she was wearing. But for as long as she’s been describing this outfit (again, it’s been about a week, 6 hours, 47 minutes and 5.8 seconds), it sounds to me that if the relationship has failed, it has everything to do with what she was wearing. Either that or she bored him to death with her endless stories or rebuttals.

What am I trying to say here? Get to the point of your stories – especially if you are conversing with me or any other man on the planet. Most men, and by most men I mean all of us, have the attention span of a goldfish. Unless you are talking about sports, Nicki Minaj’s booty or Pamela Anderson’s boobs, you’ll lose us at hello.

PS, see how quickly I got to the point? Take note, people.

Thank you and goodbye. The end.


Quote of the Week:  “Your secrets are safe with me, because there is a good chance I was not listening.”