About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

90 Things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me Trailer

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I'd Rather Drink 6 Razor Blades....

Eh yo...I was sitting at my temp job last night, grading the papers of tomorrow's youth (Note to all...we are in a lot of frickin' trouble by what I read...like looking for a working light bulb after a box of them has been rolled over by a steamroller), and I thought about post number one on what I hope will be an avenue of oddities with a little bit of truth in them. My friends have read them and commented on what I first had to say, and I appreciate the compliments and criticisms (which I have none as of yet, but I am sure that I will get them, because, well, much like 2/17/09, my analog thoughts may not necessarily hit their digital antennas...:)

So it is about 1:32 in the afternoon, and as that I have 3 hours to kill before I head off to my self imposed slavery (and folks, let's face it...a job, while I (and the majority of us) need to get, is nothing more than slavery, where a few folks (primarily White Anglo Saxon Males) are getting paid, while they give you pittance for the most precious commodity you have in this life...time), so I wanted to see if I can stir the Great American melting pot (Schoolhouse Rock episode flowing throughout the cranium; for those of you under 32 years old, u will dig what I am trying to float to ya) and make you chuckle and ponder as you sit on the toilet of life.

I have spent a lot of my adult life dispensing advice to those who are somewhat younger than myself (much to my dear spouses' chagrin), trying to hopefully help them avoid some of the pitfalls I may have stumbled into, splashing my prone body into a pool of unfortunate fecal circumstances and urinary drama. You see, the funny thing about advice (and I will credit Quindon Tarver, who has a couple of songs from the film "Romeo + Juliet" in my music collection) is that all it "is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth. "

I love that line in the song. It makes so much sense, it is pretty frightening, when I think about it. Most of the time people (primarily women, something else my dear wife, understandably so, isn't thrilled about) have come to me seeking to try to understand the male psyche, as if I can get into that muddled mess. Yeah, I am a guy/dude/homie/big jock willie make the girls silly, etc, but I guess the main reason that folks in the past have come to me, particularly the women/Venus dwellars/bleed 7 days and don't die (south park, righteous!)/have the one thing men want (and I will cross that in a future blog...and it ain't what ya think, dirty minded scoundrels!) is that I just tell them what I think without B.S....once again, using my "form of nostalgia."

There is one thing, however, that I do believe in, where while no where near 100% reliable (as most advice is), I think, much like drivers who should lay off text messaging (nothing is that f'n important that you have to risk hitting little Bobbie Sue while she's selling Girl Scout Cookies on a Sunday afternoon), I think would help the ladies keeping them men in place a lot more often, as well as what I'd like to call "the wondering line and tackle" that resides in their pants.

Before I break that down (as that no one has all days to read my mutterings), let me tell you a quick story about the week that I got married. My best friend (we'll call him EE, so that he knows whom I am speaking of...chuckle) came up to be my best man in my wedding 8 years and nearly 6 months ago (and no, I'm not counting). We are killing time in a mall while my wife to be is fininshing the prep for the wedding (let's get real, fellas....all guys want to know is how the cake is gonna taste, and whom to make the check out to....it's kinda of like when ladies say "we're pregnant." No, we're not...men got ya pregnant....we provide the batter, you do the baking. That is why I respect you so...y'all always seem to get the shaft, but most of time, especially those 2 inchers, u don't enjoy it). Anyway, we pass by a Victoria's Secret, and he, who is currently been married to his woman for 19 years (she's a Big Time MILF...and I don't wanna...you get what I mean....not killing 30 years of friendship here...she's good looking, ok?), and he decides to go pick up his lovely wife some "unmentionables" (credit my dear 4th cousin for that lovely term). Now, I'm trippin', cuz as much as I appreciate a woman in such things, I've never been comfortable in those sort of stores. So, he spends like, probably like a 1/2 hour in the place, and he's got a bag of "man goodies" in this bag. (As he explained to me, these are for HIM, slickly hidden under the guise of a "gift" for his wife. Sweet). Anyway, I just went to see my friend and his family in April, and while I didn't get much time to spend with his kids and his spouse (it was an "All Guys Day"...another blog to come...grin), and they seem to be that dating, do it all the time couple that they were before.

Now, appearances may be deceiving, but that is alright. His wife looks good, they seem to not want to cut each other, and I know that the "bow chicka bow wow" is still going on 19 years later.

So, what is the point of this?

Ladies, for unlawful carnal knowledge/hit it/bone/rock the boat/hitttin' skins/ride the white horse/boff/bong/get it on/quicky/shag (yea baby, yeah)/make love to (sigh...it's still sex, isn't it? It just doing it with someone you love) your husband/boyfriend/lover. On a somewhat regular basis.

Sounds piggish? Perhaps...but let's think about this for a second...one, I know a lot of males can't help (weak excuse unless you have some sort of addiction, a la David "The X-Rated Files" Duchovny) dogging their women...which I don't excuse...I was at least an honest whore (When I was single, I gave a woman the "it's just booty, not a sense of duty" speech. You get heart broke, I will get a restraining order). But (and this is my 2nd and final point) for those males who really, really, really want to stick with the women in their life, yet are getting less than Ethopians on free rice day, ladies, while infidelity is just wrong and an ultimate betrayal of trust, those dudes out there trusted you with their penises. Guys are simple....they want a good meal, be left alone during sports and/or blowing things up on their Xbox/PlayStation's (unless you completely understand the rules of said sport or video game) and to get diddled/done/ridden like Roy Rogers rode Trigger. That's it. We are not that bright...the fact that we usually think with the bloody things gives you ultimate power (once again, a future blog...cheap plug)...use it, and I am willing to bet that cheating goes down at least 50%. (Note, that requires that you learn how to be a porn star....just as I mentioned in that shafting/2 inch commentary earlier, a weak lay will make yo' man GO AWAY and shop at Tail-Mart).

**Blog Update - A Friend commented on this puppy, and I wanted to clarify something (I pondered this while I was dropping the kids off at the pool, and her comment drove the point home...:) Relationships require love and attention, trust and respect. My only point, while hoping to make you chuckle (and think) is that the male species is sort of like a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich...ya know what it will taste like no matter how many ways ya spread the ingredients (and yea, the pun was intentional). We're predictable...treat us as such, sate our carnal instincts, and u can do what you always do...win the war. Besides, u r gonna outlive us anyway...:) Finally, if your man is a atomic dog, more than likely if the right milk "bone" comes along, he's gonna bite.**

This is advice I have given to female friends for years. Most of the time, the ladies have decent fellows (with a few Rottweilers thrown in there, to be sure) who just may be good ol' frustrated. Handle it, and the chances of you finding "Neil" getting a "Bob" from "Suck Dry Sue" goes down dramatically.

But then again, you just might want to take this advice, get your "Swiffer" out and dust it off to pass on to someone else.

And oh, always wear sunscreen.

Peace and snot ain't a good replacement for Elmer's Glue.


Ellie said...

Hmmmm...so it's that simple. A good lay, and your man will stay.


Ellie said...

So it's that simple, huh. A good lay and your man will stay.

Hmmmm....I will need to ponder that for awhile.

Bronxladydiva....CH said...

SO, I see that not working for a year has really made you less scenical(sp?). So, if your thesis were true...he would have stayed right? Well, you know the story, so explain how your theory fits my life, Mr. I RULE the World in a purple suit singing Rasberry Beret!!!

Anonymous said...

oh my God......I get a message with a link to a blog and realize that my older brother has lost his damn mind.....However, I am glad to see that you're writing again....keep it up...it's DeWayne by the way using anonymous because I don't feel like creating a google ID.....