Keri Hilson and Raheem Devaughn recently released new music videos for their songs "The Way You Love Me" and "She's Single" both of which I've recently watched after my timeline was abuzz from people talking about both videos. If you haven't seen either of the videos, I've embedded them below.
Now I liked both of the videos, but I was kinda upset at the female commentary I saw for the video by Ms. Keri bay-be (I just like saying that). It seems that most of the discussion regarding Keri's video cast her in a negative light and call her "whorish." But Raheem's video, although explicit and maybe even borderline HBO, Cinemax, or Showtime late night softcore porn was met with rave reviews. I just wanna get my two cents out...Why is it that America seems to criticize a woman when she displays her sexual prowess and is celebrating getting what we refer to in New Orleans as "good joog?" Ladies, please don't be coy and act like you don't have a "special outfit" for that special guy and never did anything out of character, for him. Maybe not a video or a picture cause that's prolly whorish in your opinion also, but I'm talking a "for his eyes only" show. Oh, you haven't? Well that's why your basic ass is still single and can't keep a man, lol. But on the real, Raheem can blatantly talk about taking another man's woman and romancing her for the night, making her act as tho she's single for the night and that's okay?
Why?
Because he ate her out and they used protection?
I'm curious as to why this is anybody care to enlighten me?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
My Creole Mistress
Let me tell you a tale, whose details will leave you wetter than the cast of Finding Nemo;
it’s a true to life saga about my love affair with this South Louisiana Creole.
There was nothing epic in the way we met, just a plain old January Monday;
the Super Bowl was the day before, the Saints weren’t there, see, just another day.
I grew up with her like the girl next door and never knew she’d one day own my heart;
but it was the strange phenomenon of her culture that was working Voodoo from the start.
Now if you’ve ever met one of these Creole queens, you know not to ever call them a mutt;
but how else do you describe a dash of this and that with a splash of such and such?
Yeah, she was one of them varieties that you’d have to leave the country to find suitable competition for;
she handled her business and partied all night, her last call if she had one, was sometime around four.
The language she spoke was an interesting dialect, some from other nations, others homegrown;
but the swagger she carried, the style she had, they were non-mistakably her own.
I left her some time ago with no regrets, feeling like her trouble would lead to bad days;
it took me some time but I’m wiser now, took for me to almost lose her to see the error of my ways.
She went in that ward on August 29th and I didn’t get the chance to see her until November;
I almost cried when I saw what hit her, one the saddest days I’ll ever remember.
I thought I did it the right way, cause it seemed she’d never come back to be how I knew her;
you shoulda seen the fight in this girl, I doubt anything in the world would ever subdue her.
She came to me in a dream, stripped, bald, barren, battered, and bruised;
she didn’t want me to look at her but I couldn’t stop staring at her awkward new tattoos.
Some ugly little things with Xs and Os, acronyms, numbers, words, and such;
it was like some other language, to me the shit was all Dutch.
It was in this dream that she spoke to me and said “I’m proud of everything you’ve done so far;
take this time to get yourself together, I’m right in your heart, so I’ll be wherever you are.
You left me for her, and I don’t care, she’ll never do to or for you all of the wondrous things I can;
so take what she offers, learn from her, because even when you left you never stopped being my man.
And I tried to make it work, but the one I was with had common ways I’ve long despised;
funny what I needed the most was that same girl from way back who was commonly specialized.
It was the money she flashed, the promises she made, that had me runnin to her like a groupie;
in the end she cheated herself, because she didn’t see the potential of letting me do “me.”
My love didn’t shelter my opinion or ask me to conform because she among the most exotic in the states; even if I gave you her cookbook, I doubt you’d be able to make the same plates.
You see she makes groceries, while you merely go to the store to buy,
She greets with “heeeey baby,” and you only say “hi.”
She got pahrans and nan-nans, maw-maws, paw-paws, and God-siblings,
You got a t-jones and grandparents, nothing novel in the way that rings.
She wants to know who you are, while what you are is what makes you tick,
And that’s when I decided to seek her aid cause you truly make me sick.
Houston you’ll forever have a piece of me cause I made sure during our time together to get deep inside of you;
but happiness for me is what I’ve always known, you’ll forever be a long-distance boo.
The last time I saw her ended much in the same way that it normally does, with her wearing the sheets as a dress;
she picked up her head and was pretty as ever despite her hair looking a mess.
“So you going back to that girl again, after another wild romp, I’m still just the weekend fuck;”
I wanted to keep my intentions a surprise cause wit her forever aint long enough.
I walked to where she lay, pulled her close to me, and started the beginning of the rest of my life;
“I’m tired of coming home to my Creole mistress, what say I make you my Creole wife?
New Orleans, my love, I’m sorry I left you, all that remains on my end is a few loose ends to tie;
some things I gotta wrap up and finish out there before I can tell her goodbye.
I’m no longer doing what’s expected of me, I’m only interested in what I think I should;”
and as I closed the door behind me I whispered “next time I come home, it’ll be for good.”
it’s a true to life saga about my love affair with this South Louisiana Creole.
There was nothing epic in the way we met, just a plain old January Monday;
the Super Bowl was the day before, the Saints weren’t there, see, just another day.
I grew up with her like the girl next door and never knew she’d one day own my heart;
but it was the strange phenomenon of her culture that was working Voodoo from the start.
Now if you’ve ever met one of these Creole queens, you know not to ever call them a mutt;
but how else do you describe a dash of this and that with a splash of such and such?
Yeah, she was one of them varieties that you’d have to leave the country to find suitable competition for;
she handled her business and partied all night, her last call if she had one, was sometime around four.
The language she spoke was an interesting dialect, some from other nations, others homegrown;
but the swagger she carried, the style she had, they were non-mistakably her own.
I left her some time ago with no regrets, feeling like her trouble would lead to bad days;
it took me some time but I’m wiser now, took for me to almost lose her to see the error of my ways.
She went in that ward on August 29th and I didn’t get the chance to see her until November;
I almost cried when I saw what hit her, one the saddest days I’ll ever remember.
I thought I did it the right way, cause it seemed she’d never come back to be how I knew her;
you shoulda seen the fight in this girl, I doubt anything in the world would ever subdue her.
She came to me in a dream, stripped, bald, barren, battered, and bruised;
she didn’t want me to look at her but I couldn’t stop staring at her awkward new tattoos.
Some ugly little things with Xs and Os, acronyms, numbers, words, and such;
it was like some other language, to me the shit was all Dutch.
It was in this dream that she spoke to me and said “I’m proud of everything you’ve done so far;
take this time to get yourself together, I’m right in your heart, so I’ll be wherever you are.
You left me for her, and I don’t care, she’ll never do to or for you all of the wondrous things I can;
so take what she offers, learn from her, because even when you left you never stopped being my man.
And I tried to make it work, but the one I was with had common ways I’ve long despised;
funny what I needed the most was that same girl from way back who was commonly specialized.
It was the money she flashed, the promises she made, that had me runnin to her like a groupie;
in the end she cheated herself, because she didn’t see the potential of letting me do “me.”
My love didn’t shelter my opinion or ask me to conform because she among the most exotic in the states; even if I gave you her cookbook, I doubt you’d be able to make the same plates.
You see she makes groceries, while you merely go to the store to buy,
She greets with “heeeey baby,” and you only say “hi.”
She got pahrans and nan-nans, maw-maws, paw-paws, and God-siblings,
You got a t-jones and grandparents, nothing novel in the way that rings.
She wants to know who you are, while what you are is what makes you tick,
And that’s when I decided to seek her aid cause you truly make me sick.
Houston you’ll forever have a piece of me cause I made sure during our time together to get deep inside of you;
but happiness for me is what I’ve always known, you’ll forever be a long-distance boo.
The last time I saw her ended much in the same way that it normally does, with her wearing the sheets as a dress;
she picked up her head and was pretty as ever despite her hair looking a mess.
“So you going back to that girl again, after another wild romp, I’m still just the weekend fuck;”
I wanted to keep my intentions a surprise cause wit her forever aint long enough.
I walked to where she lay, pulled her close to me, and started the beginning of the rest of my life;
“I’m tired of coming home to my Creole mistress, what say I make you my Creole wife?
New Orleans, my love, I’m sorry I left you, all that remains on my end is a few loose ends to tie;
some things I gotta wrap up and finish out there before I can tell her goodbye.
I’m no longer doing what’s expected of me, I’m only interested in what I think I should;”
and as I closed the door behind me I whispered “next time I come home, it’ll be for good.”
Monday, November 15, 2010
We'll Talk...
Well thanks to a good friend of mine, I've gotten back into writing, I've had a piece in mind I've been toying with lately, so I think I'll just sit here and let it go. First lemme give u a background on it tho. Lately people have been asking me why I'm single, and my response is because I cant find the right girl. And others have asked me what to do to get my attention for their homegirl (yeah right) but I think this just about sums it up.
We'll Talk...
Gimme that pussy and we'll talk, sweetheart I'm sorry for coming off so abrupt,
but i'm a product of the US's free market economy, and big decisions I don't rush.
Yeah society has corrupted me into always thinking i have the right to try before i buy,
how many people can honestly say that they bought a car without a test drive?
So dont hem me up on that bullshit that I want the milk without buying the cow,
cause if you got a cow with some spoiled ass milk, it aint no use to you anyhow.
You see I want the house, car, wife, kids, complete with white picket fence,
but if you can't keep me happy, then our relationship makes no sense.
I'll be honest for a second and tell you that nymphs got nothing on me,
I need it and want it everyday of the week, and you gotta put it down when called on, you see.
Monogamy is not my strong suit, and i usually step out because sex aint like i need,
my ideal woman is highly respected in society, and a pornstar, just for me.
So if you're trying to catch my attention, the bedroom is prolly the best place to start,
cause I'd hate to give you the starring role and find you lack the talent for the part.
Gimmie that pussy and we'll talk, about where we wanna go in life,
where we see ourselves in 5 years, and when I'll make you my wife.
Maybe it's the mileage ive gathered over the years that causes me to feel this way,
but I need to know what Im getting into and it about what you do not what you say.
Im not opposed to the dates and courting, but we wont get to monogamy without sex,
Im old enough to be set in my ways and have no problem going on to the next.
Somebody will catch me one day and through the rest of our lives we'll walk,
but I guarantee she'll have complied when I said, "gimmie that pussy and we'll talk"
We'll Talk...
Gimme that pussy and we'll talk, sweetheart I'm sorry for coming off so abrupt,
but i'm a product of the US's free market economy, and big decisions I don't rush.
Yeah society has corrupted me into always thinking i have the right to try before i buy,
how many people can honestly say that they bought a car without a test drive?
So dont hem me up on that bullshit that I want the milk without buying the cow,
cause if you got a cow with some spoiled ass milk, it aint no use to you anyhow.
You see I want the house, car, wife, kids, complete with white picket fence,
but if you can't keep me happy, then our relationship makes no sense.
I'll be honest for a second and tell you that nymphs got nothing on me,
I need it and want it everyday of the week, and you gotta put it down when called on, you see.
Monogamy is not my strong suit, and i usually step out because sex aint like i need,
my ideal woman is highly respected in society, and a pornstar, just for me.
So if you're trying to catch my attention, the bedroom is prolly the best place to start,
cause I'd hate to give you the starring role and find you lack the talent for the part.
Gimmie that pussy and we'll talk, about where we wanna go in life,
where we see ourselves in 5 years, and when I'll make you my wife.
Maybe it's the mileage ive gathered over the years that causes me to feel this way,
but I need to know what Im getting into and it about what you do not what you say.
Im not opposed to the dates and courting, but we wont get to monogamy without sex,
Im old enough to be set in my ways and have no problem going on to the next.
Somebody will catch me one day and through the rest of our lives we'll walk,
but I guarantee she'll have complied when I said, "gimmie that pussy and we'll talk"
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Text Messages
The following is something a friend and I were working on chronicling the dating game and the chase from the man and the woman's perspective, enjoy, and as always feedback is appreciated
She...
Sits at her desk unable to focus
His text is on her screen and she immediately notices
Grabbing the phone but putting the response on delay
Can’t seem desperate; oh the games we play
Choosing her words carefully when she finally responds
Doesn’t want to come across as needy or too strong
So an hour for her response he waits
She presses send then begins to contemplate
He...
Pride won't allow a man to be considered weak;
It's been a minute since they exchanged numbers and he still can't speak.
Several times he's conquered his prey without hearing a voice;
But he's gotta use tact cause he wants more than getting her moist.
So he opted for simplicity, cause he could always just downplay the text;
"I need you worse than jazmine..." letting her decide what comes next.
Then the regret tripled in his mind after he pressed send;
60 minutes later the phone buzzed away, and this chapter came to begin.
She...
Even though the delay was deliberate
The response made her blush when she read it.
Did he mean Aladdin’s Jasmine?
Filled with desperation and passion?
Or the sweet flower with the elusive scent?
Insinuating that for a night her body he wanted to rent?
Nevertheless his words had moved she
But remain cool she had to be
So vague she kept it with an “awww that’s so sweet
”But who's gonna make the first move definitely not she
He....
As he anxiously awaited, he never expected to be at this place
Should he attack full throttle, or attempt to save face
She never struck him as the type to be schoolgirlishly coy
Maybe she was flattered or maybe she labeled him a little boy
It had never been this hard to let her know what was going on
But then again his convos usually involved stilettos handcuffs and a thong
He dismissed a random text that read "let me suck u dry"
And got back to his target with a response that read simply "*sigh*"
She...
She can’t read his tone through these keystrokes
But it’s an easier way to express emotions than through vocal notes
Afraid to read too much into his texts
Afraid to say more than he expects
She wants to know what “sigh” stands for
She needs to know if he wants something more
She’s been ignoring textual advances of her other suitors
Dismissing them as unworthy because she has become the chooser
And she has chosen he
All eggs in one basket foolishly
So she has to play this one smart
If she wants to be the closest thing to his heart
She types the open ended “what do you want from me?"
Ball’s back in his court “SEND” now let’s wait and see.
He...
His mind in circles as he repeated the question out loud,
and began pacing back in forth to erase his mind's cloud.
He couldn’t put in words the response she needed to hear
because when it came down to it, they shared the same fear.
Objects in the heart are sometimes closer than they appear
blinked in his mind in neon, like in a review mirror.
This road was the same, always smooth in the onset
but they ended one less than who began the trip.
He took a chance and let his finger go
typed far more than intended but she just had to know
"Hell, I want everything that is open to be took,
even some of the things that’s locked away because u got shook
by the guy from the past who I remind you of and hope I wouldn't be
I gotta be everything you need, do you trust me?"
She...
Her phone slides off of her fingertips onto the floor
His words had shaken her to her soul’s core
In asking the question, she had expected an evasive answer
Instead his response required her to face her fears like cancer
Re-reading his text at least 100 times
Carefully dissecting each word and reading in between the lines.
Drafting and re-drafting is what had taken her so long
24 hours it took her to finally respond
Not that she had slept a wink all night
But thinking of an answer concise enough to text type
Finally her words begin to flow
Instead of censoring herself; she let it all go:
“Been down this road with him, him, and him
Uncertain about going this route again
Giving you all that is there for the taking
Makes me susceptible to be broken if you’re faking
Trust is to be earned and not given
Something I’ve learned in this life I’m living
The things you want unlocked were once used against me
Now these secrets are kept under lock and key
Can you promise you’re not like the ones before?
And whatever is to come won’t send you out the door
Exactly what I need I’m not truly sure
But we can work up to that if your intentions are pure
Tell me that in us you’re ready to invest
These are my demands and I’ll accept nothing less.”
It was like the last word of a prayer...Amen
At 3am is when she finally pressed send.
He...
Awaken from his slumber by a jab to the chest,
"Tell that heaux you laid up, I'm sick of this mess!!!"
"Who could this be at 3 am?
Fuckin up my sleep pissing off my lil friend"
He told her “don't worry”; thinking “he'll cuss her out later”
But she insisted on inviting herself over so she could return the favor
Now who was disturbing their sleep with apparent bullshit
He looked at his phone and came face to face with the guilty culprit.
After reading the text he sent back "I’ll respond when the sun's up"
Lawd why SHE have to complicate his quest for butt?
She...
The buzzing of the phone jolts her awake
She realizes it’s a call not a text message exchange
She answers the phone expecting it to be HE
The first time she’d hear his voice since the initial meet
To her surprise it’s another familiar voice on her line
Pleading on the other end for some of her time
She politely declined telling him she was tired
When in truth she was starting a new chapter so old workers had to be fired.
She hung up the call and noticed she had missed a text.
Immediately opened it to see what HE had responded
“I’ll respond when the sun’s up” struck her as odd
Reality hit and her head began to nod
He was up but in more ways than one
Probably a little late night action or laid up with someone
She thought, “Be what I need
Nigga please
If you were you’d refrain from being between someone’s knees
I’m only guessing even still I’ll do you before you do me.
If I’m wrong that’s a chance I’m willing to take
This is the cushion prepared for my heart to deter any breaks”
Racking her brain to see what’s to come next
She hits redial; he picks up “If you still want to come over the answer’s yes.”
He...
Struggling to save face from his embarrassing night,
He thinks "I just want her gone, no fuss, no fight.
"Tapping his latest conquest on her tattooed shoulder,
The words he spoke just fell like a boulder.
"Why are we fooling ourselves, it’s nothing but sex,
True, you are a pretty face, but I'm on to the next.
If you are mature you'd say thanx for the memories and quietly leave,
take your stuff from hiding and empty that trashcan of weave.
You see, I found something that's better than you,
I’m in search of wifey and you're only a boo.
"Surprisingly she complied but that was the only good thing,
because as soon as boo pulled off, he gave HER a ring.
Thinking she'd be waiting, he got the shock of the day,
"I’m unable to come to the phone, leave one and have a blessed day."
She...
Sits at her desk unable to focus
His text is on her screen and she immediately notices
Grabbing the phone but putting the response on delay
Can’t seem desperate; oh the games we play
Choosing her words carefully when she finally responds
Doesn’t want to come across as needy or too strong
So an hour for her response he waits
She presses send then begins to contemplate
He...
Pride won't allow a man to be considered weak;
It's been a minute since they exchanged numbers and he still can't speak.
Several times he's conquered his prey without hearing a voice;
But he's gotta use tact cause he wants more than getting her moist.
So he opted for simplicity, cause he could always just downplay the text;
"I need you worse than jazmine..." letting her decide what comes next.
Then the regret tripled in his mind after he pressed send;
60 minutes later the phone buzzed away, and this chapter came to begin.
She...
Even though the delay was deliberate
The response made her blush when she read it.
Did he mean Aladdin’s Jasmine?
Filled with desperation and passion?
Or the sweet flower with the elusive scent?
Insinuating that for a night her body he wanted to rent?
Nevertheless his words had moved she
But remain cool she had to be
So vague she kept it with an “awww that’s so sweet
”But who's gonna make the first move definitely not she
He....
As he anxiously awaited, he never expected to be at this place
Should he attack full throttle, or attempt to save face
She never struck him as the type to be schoolgirlishly coy
Maybe she was flattered or maybe she labeled him a little boy
It had never been this hard to let her know what was going on
But then again his convos usually involved stilettos handcuffs and a thong
He dismissed a random text that read "let me suck u dry"
And got back to his target with a response that read simply "*sigh*"
She...
She can’t read his tone through these keystrokes
But it’s an easier way to express emotions than through vocal notes
Afraid to read too much into his texts
Afraid to say more than he expects
She wants to know what “sigh” stands for
She needs to know if he wants something more
She’s been ignoring textual advances of her other suitors
Dismissing them as unworthy because she has become the chooser
And she has chosen he
All eggs in one basket foolishly
So she has to play this one smart
If she wants to be the closest thing to his heart
She types the open ended “what do you want from me?"
Ball’s back in his court “SEND” now let’s wait and see.
He...
His mind in circles as he repeated the question out loud,
and began pacing back in forth to erase his mind's cloud.
He couldn’t put in words the response she needed to hear
because when it came down to it, they shared the same fear.
Objects in the heart are sometimes closer than they appear
blinked in his mind in neon, like in a review mirror.
This road was the same, always smooth in the onset
but they ended one less than who began the trip.
He took a chance and let his finger go
typed far more than intended but she just had to know
"Hell, I want everything that is open to be took,
even some of the things that’s locked away because u got shook
by the guy from the past who I remind you of and hope I wouldn't be
I gotta be everything you need, do you trust me?"
She...
Her phone slides off of her fingertips onto the floor
His words had shaken her to her soul’s core
In asking the question, she had expected an evasive answer
Instead his response required her to face her fears like cancer
Re-reading his text at least 100 times
Carefully dissecting each word and reading in between the lines.
Drafting and re-drafting is what had taken her so long
24 hours it took her to finally respond
Not that she had slept a wink all night
But thinking of an answer concise enough to text type
Finally her words begin to flow
Instead of censoring herself; she let it all go:
“Been down this road with him, him, and him
Uncertain about going this route again
Giving you all that is there for the taking
Makes me susceptible to be broken if you’re faking
Trust is to be earned and not given
Something I’ve learned in this life I’m living
The things you want unlocked were once used against me
Now these secrets are kept under lock and key
Can you promise you’re not like the ones before?
And whatever is to come won’t send you out the door
Exactly what I need I’m not truly sure
But we can work up to that if your intentions are pure
Tell me that in us you’re ready to invest
These are my demands and I’ll accept nothing less.”
It was like the last word of a prayer...Amen
At 3am is when she finally pressed send.
He...
Awaken from his slumber by a jab to the chest,
"Tell that heaux you laid up, I'm sick of this mess!!!"
"Who could this be at 3 am?
Fuckin up my sleep pissing off my lil friend"
He told her “don't worry”; thinking “he'll cuss her out later”
But she insisted on inviting herself over so she could return the favor
Now who was disturbing their sleep with apparent bullshit
He looked at his phone and came face to face with the guilty culprit.
After reading the text he sent back "I’ll respond when the sun's up"
Lawd why SHE have to complicate his quest for butt?
She...
The buzzing of the phone jolts her awake
She realizes it’s a call not a text message exchange
She answers the phone expecting it to be HE
The first time she’d hear his voice since the initial meet
To her surprise it’s another familiar voice on her line
Pleading on the other end for some of her time
She politely declined telling him she was tired
When in truth she was starting a new chapter so old workers had to be fired.
She hung up the call and noticed she had missed a text.
Immediately opened it to see what HE had responded
“I’ll respond when the sun’s up” struck her as odd
Reality hit and her head began to nod
He was up but in more ways than one
Probably a little late night action or laid up with someone
She thought, “Be what I need
Nigga please
If you were you’d refrain from being between someone’s knees
I’m only guessing even still I’ll do you before you do me.
If I’m wrong that’s a chance I’m willing to take
This is the cushion prepared for my heart to deter any breaks”
Racking her brain to see what’s to come next
She hits redial; he picks up “If you still want to come over the answer’s yes.”
He...
Struggling to save face from his embarrassing night,
He thinks "I just want her gone, no fuss, no fight.
"Tapping his latest conquest on her tattooed shoulder,
The words he spoke just fell like a boulder.
"Why are we fooling ourselves, it’s nothing but sex,
True, you are a pretty face, but I'm on to the next.
If you are mature you'd say thanx for the memories and quietly leave,
take your stuff from hiding and empty that trashcan of weave.
You see, I found something that's better than you,
I’m in search of wifey and you're only a boo.
"Surprisingly she complied but that was the only good thing,
because as soon as boo pulled off, he gave HER a ring.
Thinking she'd be waiting, he got the shock of the day,
"I’m unable to come to the phone, leave one and have a blessed day."
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Pussy Payments
Watch this first…
Press play before reading
Pussy…Vagina…Twat…Cooter…Cunt…Furby…Noonie…Kat…Juice Box…all words which have come to describe the greatest creation known to (wo)man, the female genetalia. Every man can testify to the indescribable value associated with pussy but the funny part is that most women undervalue theirs. Meaning that because you have a pussy, no matter how you keep it, SOME MAN will stick his cock into it or SOME WOMAN will lick it depending on your preference. (Yes there is hope for you all) Now, the value associated with pussy differs from person to person in both the giver and the receiver, but chances are you can get anything you need done just for some pussy. But isn’t that prostitution? Hell, dating is prostitution.
Some of you read that last statement like “I can’t believe that he said that,” but that once again proves how retarded the female mind is. On second thought, let me not make that generalization because my homegirls who fall in the category of “dudes with twats” as well as a lot of homosexual women I know don’t think in such a manner. Those of you who know me in real life know that I went to law school because I love to argue and in addition, I love the structure of the legal profession in that one has to prove everything to say. With that being said, even my opinions come with evidence.
Now, my son, Jerry Lavigne Jr. (RIP 1984-Present), a person I went to elementary school with discussed this issue via his YouTube channel in a satirical yet serious manner that is imbedded in the top of this posting, I hope you hit play. In the video, Jerry discusses a similar sentiment held by me and many other men and women, you are going to pay for pussy regardless, so just (wo)man up like Soulja Slim did and admit that you’ll pay for it. Let’s face it, “it aint tricking to a nigga with a few dollars” cause it wont hurt him, but you WILL trick to get pussy. And we all know that the only thing better than good pussy is good NEW pussy.
Back to the ridiculousness of the female mind, which will down play strippers and street walkers because they take cash up front for pussy when in your own personal life you do the same damn thing. Are you still doubting me? Well answer me this ladies, when was the last time you fucked somebody (woman or man), just because you found that person attractive and you were horny? It doesn’t count if you have had sex with that person before, because that initial time or times had prolly been paid for. Aint nothing in life free, and that includes pussy.
I look forward to reading the responses to this post because I anticipate much like the same thing that the responses and comments to Jerry’s video, you all will just prove my point. So you want somebody interested in you to take you out, spend time with you, and basically court you, in exchange for some pussy, right? So the only thing that separates you from the strippers and the heauxs on the street is that they take money up front for pussy where as you gotta sit through boring conversation during a meal, while baby girl gets cash and can eat with whoever whenever she pleases. So just be real and accept the fact that you accept pussy payments, I just hope for your sake you know how much your pussy costs…
Press play before reading
Pussy…Vagina…Twat…Cooter…Cunt…Furby…Noonie…Kat…Juice Box…all words which have come to describe the greatest creation known to (wo)man, the female genetalia. Every man can testify to the indescribable value associated with pussy but the funny part is that most women undervalue theirs. Meaning that because you have a pussy, no matter how you keep it, SOME MAN will stick his cock into it or SOME WOMAN will lick it depending on your preference. (Yes there is hope for you all) Now, the value associated with pussy differs from person to person in both the giver and the receiver, but chances are you can get anything you need done just for some pussy. But isn’t that prostitution? Hell, dating is prostitution.
Some of you read that last statement like “I can’t believe that he said that,” but that once again proves how retarded the female mind is. On second thought, let me not make that generalization because my homegirls who fall in the category of “dudes with twats” as well as a lot of homosexual women I know don’t think in such a manner. Those of you who know me in real life know that I went to law school because I love to argue and in addition, I love the structure of the legal profession in that one has to prove everything to say. With that being said, even my opinions come with evidence.
Now, my son, Jerry Lavigne Jr. (RIP 1984-Present), a person I went to elementary school with discussed this issue via his YouTube channel in a satirical yet serious manner that is imbedded in the top of this posting, I hope you hit play. In the video, Jerry discusses a similar sentiment held by me and many other men and women, you are going to pay for pussy regardless, so just (wo)man up like Soulja Slim did and admit that you’ll pay for it. Let’s face it, “it aint tricking to a nigga with a few dollars” cause it wont hurt him, but you WILL trick to get pussy. And we all know that the only thing better than good pussy is good NEW pussy.
Back to the ridiculousness of the female mind, which will down play strippers and street walkers because they take cash up front for pussy when in your own personal life you do the same damn thing. Are you still doubting me? Well answer me this ladies, when was the last time you fucked somebody (woman or man), just because you found that person attractive and you were horny? It doesn’t count if you have had sex with that person before, because that initial time or times had prolly been paid for. Aint nothing in life free, and that includes pussy.
I look forward to reading the responses to this post because I anticipate much like the same thing that the responses and comments to Jerry’s video, you all will just prove my point. So you want somebody interested in you to take you out, spend time with you, and basically court you, in exchange for some pussy, right? So the only thing that separates you from the strippers and the heauxs on the street is that they take money up front for pussy where as you gotta sit through boring conversation during a meal, while baby girl gets cash and can eat with whoever whenever she pleases. So just be real and accept the fact that you accept pussy payments, I just hope for your sake you know how much your pussy costs…
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Brown Eyed Blues...
#NowPlaying "Brown Eyed Blues" - Adrian Hood
Its been a while since I've last posted because I've found myself completely smitten with the prospectus of a new woman who was seemingly everything I was looking for, just at the point when I least expected it. Sounds cliche I know, but I thought that maybe it was the right time. So I put aside old flings, didn't pay attention to anyone who could potentially alter this, and I'm back to where I started, the great friend who'll never be the lover.
Its been a while since I've last posted because I've found myself completely smitten with the prospectus of a new woman who was seemingly everything I was looking for, just at the point when I least expected it. Sounds cliche I know, but I thought that maybe it was the right time. So I put aside old flings, didn't pay attention to anyone who could potentially alter this, and I'm back to where I started, the great friend who'll never be the lover.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Light-Skinned "Wavy" Dudes is Back!
After last year’s blown MJ tribute, I had little faith in the ability of BET to bring an awards show that would make me admit that BET actually means BLACK Entertainment Television and stood for much more than the coonery that encompasses its airtime these days as it once did sometime in that decade known as the Eighties. Ah, the Eighties, a time where MJ rocked the curl, light-skinned dudes were in, and music (namely hip-hop) had a message beyond materialistic bullshit. So while I prayed to 8lb 6oz Creole baby Jesus, that BET avoided its stereotypical coonery and planned on avoiding the 2010 edition of the “monkey show” my latest superstar infatuation (Nicki Minaj) and social addiction (Twitter) prompted me to actually sit down and watch the awards Boy, was that a great decision!
My interest in the awards was largely due to my timeline becoming filled with sights of the spectacle known as “Momma Songz,” Nicki Minaj as Wilma Flintsone, an inaccurate representation of the Dallas dance craze known as the “Dougie” and Soulja Boy’s Pretty Boy Swag.
I could go all day about me wanting Nicki to make my bedrock, 
the East Coast theft of Southern Swag, or the latest installment of mainstream society making money off the unofficial intellectual property of the Nupes (NOT Kappa Alpha Psi). Lets face it, Nupes made “from the window…to the wall” famous, the Dougie is more nothing than a simple “grease” done in party struts, trains, and step shows near you, and only the Nupes have true “Pretty Boy Swag.” But dances always get lost in transition from state to state so I’ll let that go here and digress on to Nicki Minaj and “Momma Songz.” I have long said that a real beauty looks good in anything even with rollers in her head, Daniel Greens on her feet, and a baby on her hip. (Hood, I know, well I’m into that kinda stuff i.e. yella girls with long hair and slugs) “Momma Songz” deserves a pedestal along with Jada and her “Avatar braids,” 
Alicia’s cabaret performance while preggers, the Spalding chick with the “Jetson-esque” cello , Monica and her Dark Angel wings, and Nicki Minaj’s “best body money can buy.” “Momma Songz” will probably be one of my favorite trending topics for some time to come.
As far as the actual show is concerned, I couldn’t tell you much about who won what, although I am glad that we didn’t have to endure another one of Kanye’s rants about Beyonce’s soft-porn video’s being the “best of all time” as her and Lady Gaga took it home with “Video Phone.” What I can tell you, and I’m happy to boast of is that, light-skinned dudes is back! One year after the unexpected death of the King of Pop, he gets the tribute he deserved from an artist that is almost of that infamous MJ caliber and bar that he set so high. Chris Brown’s inability to finish his set without tears flowing was a triumphant return to stardom.
> Whatever happened between Chris Breezy and Rihanna is their business and we don’t know all the facts, but his Fan’s Choice award shows that America has forgiven him, and maybe its time that Jay, Bey, and Rihanna do the same. Hell, as much as I love Nicki Minaj, if she gave me “the Herp” all you would hear is Howard Cosell yelling “down goes Barbie!” Glad to see you back, Chris!
Next up on the mission to restore the fair-skinned brother’s swag was El DeBarge. He resembles one of those 7th Ward Creole St. Aug boys that we all know from back home. Throwback enough to confuse the 90s babies who are now beginning to unlatch themselves from their mother’s busoms but popular enough to have people (myself included) prancing around to “Rhythm of the Night” as homeaux as they did in the video we all saw featured in “The Last Dragon.”
DeBarge looked like one of those old sugar daddies who drives a Benz, steps out in nothing but linen in the summer with a pretty lil thang on his arm (my hero), and has a daughter that causes all men to say at least five words; “damn, she could get it!” (Stop me when I’m getting too New Orleans for you) We haven’t seen this guy in prominence since the late eighties, but BET managed to dig him up for a performance that even Paris Hilton would give the stamp of hotness.
In addition to DeBarge, the melanin-lacking black man can also stake claim in 2010’s man of the year thus far, Drake.
Drizzy has stepped up his stage presence and his numbers are running like Carl Lewis (not quite Usain Bolt but impressive nonetheless). Even J. Cole, who is poised to leave his mark on the year 2010 is in the “Creole corner” somewhere down the line. The light-skinned “wavy” brothers even saw John Legend get a well deserved humanitarian award only to have him pay us back by having a lining that begs him to slap his barber.
Not to mention the triumphant return of “The King,” T.I. So the unofficial count is at +6 and we haven’t even reached the Lifetime Achievement award.
In 2010, BET bestowed its lifetime achievement award to the first black man to attain a name in Minnesota that resounded with residents, Prince. Don’t laugh at the previous statement, that’s a prestigious club that includes the likes of Kirby Puckett, Kevin Garnett, Randy Moss, and New Orleans’ own Nat Dorsey (lol). So after clearing my thoughts of “Momma Songz” purifying herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, I regained consciousness long enough to see Ms. Spaulding play her cello. As I wondered what secrets she had in her own potbellied stove, out comes Alicia Keys with her own bun in the oven. Even while pregnant, she’s still nothing less than a dime. Now Ms. Keys’ performance even had Prince shocked
We were then treated to Patti Labelle who ultimately comes out of her $2000 Red Bottoms to be comfortable enough to give Prince the respect he deserves. Now “the respect Prince deserves” is the topic of a brand new posting, but there’s something I don’t quite get. I’ve seen women acclaim how sexy this short, skinny, weird, homeaux artist is, but admit that any other man’s attempt at such antics could only be described as ghei. This is the same guy that leaves women’s undergarments saturated and responding to claims of of Prince’s own homosexuality with comments such as “well, I’d fuck him straight.” How and why he has this uncanny effect on women, beautiful women at that, is one of those unsolved mysteries of the eighties that didn’t make primetime television.
Now even Creole baby Jesus couldn’t prevent BET from the coonery that comes with K-Mart sponsorship or women wavier their panties around during Tyrese’s Teddy Pendergrass set, which leads me to wonder if the resurgence of the light-skinned “wavy” dude is really authentic. The fact remains that I feel good to be considered red, and am questioning letting the dreads go. I gotta ride this puppy before we go on another ten year hiatus. LOL!
My interest in the awards was largely due to my timeline becoming filled with sights of the spectacle known as “Momma Songz,” Nicki Minaj as Wilma Flintsone, an inaccurate representation of the Dallas dance craze known as the “Dougie” and Soulja Boy’s Pretty Boy Swag.
I could go all day about me wanting Nicki to make my bedrock, the East Coast theft of Southern Swag, or the latest installment of mainstream society making money off the unofficial intellectual property of the Nupes (NOT Kappa Alpha Psi). Lets face it, Nupes made “from the window…to the wall” famous, the Dougie is more nothing than a simple “grease” done in party struts, trains, and step shows near you, and only the Nupes have true “Pretty Boy Swag.” But dances always get lost in transition from state to state so I’ll let that go here and digress on to Nicki Minaj and “Momma Songz.” I have long said that a real beauty looks good in anything even with rollers in her head, Daniel Greens on her feet, and a baby on her hip. (Hood, I know, well I’m into that kinda stuff i.e. yella girls with long hair and slugs) “Momma Songz” deserves a pedestal along with Jada and her “Avatar braids,” Alicia’s cabaret performance while preggers, the Spalding chick with the “Jetson-esque” cello As far as the actual show is concerned, I couldn’t tell you much about who won what, although I am glad that we didn’t have to endure another one of Kanye’s rants about Beyonce’s soft-porn video’s being the “best of all time” as her and Lady Gaga took it home with “Video Phone.” What I can tell you, and I’m happy to boast of is that, light-skinned dudes is back! One year after the unexpected death of the King of Pop, he gets the tribute he deserved from an artist that is almost of that infamous MJ caliber and bar that he set so high. Chris Brown’s inability to finish his set without tears flowing was a triumphant return to stardom.
> Whatever happened between Chris Breezy and Rihanna is their business and we don’t know all the facts, but his Fan’s Choice award shows that America has forgiven him, and maybe its time that Jay, Bey, and Rihanna do the same. Hell, as much as I love Nicki Minaj, if she gave me “the Herp” all you would hear is Howard Cosell yelling “down goes Barbie!” Glad to see you back, Chris!Next up on the mission to restore the fair-skinned brother’s swag was El DeBarge. He resembles one of those 7th Ward Creole St. Aug boys that we all know from back home. Throwback enough to confuse the 90s babies who are now beginning to unlatch themselves from their mother’s busoms but popular enough to have people (myself included) prancing around to “Rhythm of the Night” as homeaux as they did in the video we all saw featured in “The Last Dragon.”
DeBarge looked like one of those old sugar daddies who drives a Benz, steps out in nothing but linen in the summer with a pretty lil thang on his arm (my hero), and has a daughter that causes all men to say at least five words; “damn, she could get it!” (Stop me when I’m getting too New Orleans for you) We haven’t seen this guy in prominence since the late eighties, but BET managed to dig him up for a performance that even Paris Hilton would give the stamp of hotness.In addition to DeBarge, the melanin-lacking black man can also stake claim in 2010’s man of the year thus far, Drake.
Drizzy has stepped up his stage presence and his numbers are running like Carl Lewis (not quite Usain Bolt but impressive nonetheless). Even J. Cole, who is poised to leave his mark on the year 2010 is in the “Creole corner” somewhere down the line. The light-skinned “wavy” brothers even saw John Legend get a well deserved humanitarian award only to have him pay us back by having a lining that begs him to slap his barber. Not to mention the triumphant return of “The King,” T.I. So the unofficial count is at +6 and we haven’t even reached the Lifetime Achievement award.In 2010, BET bestowed its lifetime achievement award to the first black man to attain a name in Minnesota that resounded with residents, Prince. Don’t laugh at the previous statement, that’s a prestigious club that includes the likes of Kirby Puckett, Kevin Garnett, Randy Moss, and New Orleans’ own Nat Dorsey (lol). So after clearing my thoughts of “Momma Songz” purifying herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, I regained consciousness long enough to see Ms. Spaulding play her cello. As I wondered what secrets she had in her own potbellied stove, out comes Alicia Keys with her own bun in the oven. Even while pregnant, she’s still nothing less than a dime. Now Ms. Keys’ performance even had Prince shocked
We were then treated to Patti Labelle who ultimately comes out of her $2000 Red Bottoms to be comfortable enough to give Prince the respect he deserves. Now “the respect Prince deserves” is the topic of a brand new posting, but there’s something I don’t quite get. I’ve seen women acclaim how sexy this short, skinny, weird, homeaux artist is, but admit that any other man’s attempt at such antics could only be described as ghei. This is the same guy that leaves women’s undergarments saturated and responding to claims of of Prince’s own homosexuality with comments such as “well, I’d fuck him straight.” How and why he has this uncanny effect on women, beautiful women at that, is one of those unsolved mysteries of the eighties that didn’t make primetime television.Now even Creole baby Jesus couldn’t prevent BET from the coonery that comes with K-Mart sponsorship or women wavier their panties around during Tyrese’s Teddy Pendergrass set, which leads me to wonder if the resurgence of the light-skinned “wavy” dude is really authentic. The fact remains that I feel good to be considered red, and am questioning letting the dreads go. I gotta ride this puppy before we go on another ten year hiatus. LOL!
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