Signs You Might Be An Asshole

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One of my favorite expressions in life is "knowledge is power". It explains my fascination with wikipedia and provides the perfect justification for a penchant for gossip. And if knowledge in general is power then it stands to reason that self-knowledge is the most powerful weapon in our war on life.

Unfortunately, most people really have no idea what they're really like. And this is never more true than in the case of assholes; who always seem to have some bullshit reason for their assholey behaviour other than the fact that they're assholes. So for you my dear readers I'm giving you a gift: signs you might be an asshole.


1. You are persistently and repetitively inappropriate - even after being asked to stop.

If you're a guy or gal who makes sexual innuendos to the wrong person - your friend's ex, your ex's friend, your boy's little sister, your mother's husband - you're probably an asshole. If you continue to do it even after the person has asked you repeatedly to stop you're definitely an asshole.

3. You're sometime-ish.

If you're the kind of person who only greets people every third time you run into them - staring through them as if they're invisible all the other times - you're a rude asshole. If you only speak to people when you see them with someone you've deemed cool enough to warrant your attention you're a pretentious asshole. If you live in Toronto you probably pull this on 50% of the people you know about 50% of the times you go out - which is why this is the asshole capital of the world.

2. You lie about dumb shit.

Now you guys know I am not an advocate for complete honesty - a white lie or a faked orgasm can go a long way in a relationship - but dumb, obvious lies told for no good reason is stupid and unnecessary. Grow some stones, tell the truth, and stop being an asshole.

4. You wake people up ungracefully.

There is no greater barometer for the quality of someone's character than the method they use to wake someone. If you are a decent person, you will do it gently and gradually; allowing the person to ease their way into wakefulness. If you're my mother (a lovely human being with some assholey tendencies) you'll vacuum right outside the bedroom. If you're a certain ex of mine (a certified Grade-A asshole) you'll bang open the bedroom door and start talking loudly on the phone while watching videos on YouTube at top volume.

5. You hate The Foreign Exchange.

I'm not saying you have to love them. Maybe they just don't do it for you I'll even give you a pass if you've never heard of them. But if you listen to the album Leave It All Behind in its entirety and say you hate it, there's something wrong with your soul.

So what do you guys think? Is this asshole behaviour or just stuff max doesn't like? What are your asshole- warning signs? Speak on it in the comments.

Reckless Talk

Don’t forget to vote for me for the Black Weblog Awards! All the info you need is right here.

In this day and age of casual sex, unrelationships, and random hook-ups, the need to keep our business quiet is greater than ever. Twitter, Facebook, and the always-watching streets can blow up your spot in an instant if you’re not careful. And while it’s one thing for us to do dirt, it’s quite another thing to have the whole world know about it.

The obvious solution of course is to hold down the information that you don’t want spread; whether it’s your own dirt or someone else’s. So if your bestie confided in you that she swallowed the seeds of her ex’s ace-boon-coon, you just put that info in the same vault that houses that time you got a little tipsy and went muff-diving with your college roommate. You just lock those little secrets up and throw away the key and your secrets are safe forever, right? Wrong.

Keeping secrets is all well and good, but it is possible to blow up a spot without spilling a secret, and that is by talking reckless.  Reckless talk is basically the “everything but” of secret-keeping; you’re not coming out and spilling; but you’re dancing as closely to it as possible and it’s a real problem; especially because a lot of people don’t know they’re doing it.

Not sure whether you’ve ever been guilty of reckless talk? Check out the top four sins of the reckless talker:

1. Veiled hints, random jokes and “subtle” digs

This is a pretty common way to recklessly reveal a secret; but it’s used more often by the trusted confidante of the dirt-doer than by the dirt-doer himself. This is the signature move of frenemies. 

Say for example you slammed the man your good-good-girlfriend has been lusting after for years and were dumb enough to confide in her about it. Then the next time you are all out together she starts dropping hints, cracking jokes, and making little sarcastic comments. You’re looking at her extra sideways like – are you trying to bait me out?  Yep she is.

2. Bringing inside jokes outside

I have uncovered more than one twitter hook up romance just by watching the “private” jokes fly back and forth between tweeters. Yeah that little bit you guys do about where you call him "Ron" and he calls you "Freddie" may seem like an unbreakable code when your brain has been addled by lust, but it only took me 0.02 seconds to get the reference and conclude that you're playing hide the banana, so you may want to save that for pillow talk.

3. Suspect tweets

Let’s say one of my favourite bloggers is visiting my city for a long weekend. We make plans to hang out and it turns into a hook-up. We decide to just keep it between us and not tell anyone. But the next thing you know I’m on twitter talking about “The bed in @streetztalk’s hotel room is really comfortable”. That’s reckless talk and it deserves a hard slap.

4. Offering of extraneous information

This is another one that is most often perpetrated by an innocent party rather than the person trying to keep secrets. Let me give you an example of what it looks like:

One night a mostly platonic male friend and I were out at a party. We bumped into an old acquaintance of his and he stopped to chat. After a few minutes she says something along the lines of "Oh is this your girlfriend? I'm so excited to finally meet you! I can't believe you guys have been together for almost 10 years and this is the first time I'm seeing you".

Reckless talk! What if I was the jump-off or the next side piece? That woman and her lose lips would have effed the whole flex up for him. There is no need for anyone to be offering up all that information unprompted...that's just reckless.

I’m sure that at least one of you is going to say that there’s no reason to be concerned about reckless talk if you’re not doing anything wrong and I guess that is partly true. At the same time, the same way that you wouldn’t come out and tell the world the name, rank, and serial number of the last dude that visited your honey box is the same way you don’t need to subtly allude to the identity of the last woman who choked on your seeds. There are a lot of people out there who just go around looking for clues so they can gather dirt on people. Govern yourself accordingly.

What about you guys? Have you ever been exposed by a reckless talker? Ever blown up your own spot with reckless talk? Speak on it in the comments.

Just Some Stuff

It's a holiday so I'm taking a day off...I'm coming back tomorrow with a new Tuesday series that I'm hoping you enjoy.

I do want to take two quick secs to say a huge thank you to everyone who nominated me for the Black Weblog Awards. I'm nominated in three categories:

• Best Sex or Relationship Blog
• Best International Blog
• Best New Blog

I'm so excited! Please shoot over  here and vote for me one last time. While you're at it, don't forget my friends over at Three Ways to Take It, JG Runs the Kitchen, The FreshXpress, and Awesomely Luvvie.

And for my procrastinating peeps, the voting period is a lot shorter than the nominations period...so please get on over there and vote before you forget!

Happy Black Christmas (aka Civic Holiday) everyone!

5 Dudes I Can't Stand

So we've talked about dudes I can't find and dudes I won't date....let's spend some time talking about my least favourite dudes...the dudes who make me want to kick them in the seeds and howl with glee as they writhe on the floor in agony. The dudes who aren't putting one single grain in my sugar bowl, no matter how low my blood sugar gets. The dudes I simply cannot stand.

1. The dusty foot philosopher

I hate a dusty foot philosopher. You know these guys. They're full of theories and "wisdom" that, when placed under the harsh light of reality, really don't amount to shit. 

These guys are most likely to come in two forms: there is the uber-spiritual, poor man's Dalai Lama, Rev. Run wannabe type that spout "inspirational" quotes and words of wisdom. Which in itself is not a bad thing; but if all you're ever able to express is platitudes, please don't come sit by me. That shit is boring as hell.

Then there are the "marketing and branding" types that are forever giving you "their" point of view on the latest social media craze, or dropping science about the Old Spice dude...or telling you how to preserve your personal brand on twitter. Which would be useful information if I hadn't just finished reading it in Advertising Age. Come back when you have an original thought okay?

3. The deflecting dude

Nothing is ever this guy's fault. He shows up an hour late for the date? It's your fault because you didn't text him the directions. He impregnated his side piece? It's her fault for not being on the pill. You beat him at Madden because you left the curtains open too wide and the sun got in his eyes and he pissed all over the toilet seat because you left it down.

While I have to give this guy points for originality, it's really tiresome to be with anyone who can't take responsibility for their actions....but when it's a man it's just too much. Get thee gone deflecting dude!

4. The relentless dude

This guy will not let it go. He's the guy that wants to chat you down when you're rushing home from work in the middle of a torrential rainstorm..."what you can't take a minute to say hi? Let me just walk with you then. Oh you gotta go? Well hit me with your number right quick". Or the dude who can't stop trying to convince you that Lebron is the greatest of all time even after you've told him repeatedly you don't give a shit. The one that won't stop pushing your head southward after you've told him you don't do that.  The one who will forever text you, DM you, call you, email you asking for sex no matter how many times you tell him it won't happen. The relentless dude is a disrespectful motherfcuker and he doesn't even know it. Back up off me relentless one!

5. The sometime-ish dude

Sometimes this guy want to fcuk you, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he'll speak to you, sometimes he won't. This is the guy who will text you after not hearing from him in months, engage you in a furious exchange of witty banter, and then disappear; never to be heard from again until the next time. This is the dude who goes from all up in your crotches to treating you like some gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe in 0.05 seconds. This guy sucks and the only cure for a sometimes dude is to turn him into a no-times dude; as in you don't have anything to do with him. Ever. At which point he will probably turn into a relentless dude.


5. The can't admit he just wants to f*ck dude.

Oh lord this guy kills me. This dude only just wants to bone you. And there is nothing wrong with that...I mean nothing that happens between a man and woman can be more beautiful than a little bit of pipe. But if poon is all you want then just say so. Grown up ladies can handle it. But no - this guy wants to pretend to be your friend, pretend to date you, pretend to care about your feelings and then up and disappear after you've given up the goods. And even then still won't admit that secks was all he wanted! I hate this dude and I'm done talking about him.

Okay that's my list - what kind of dudes can't you ladies stand? And men I know you have some ladies you're not effing with...share in the comments.

Leave My Bush Alone

Just nominate me please. You've heard the spiel enough times. 

So today I have a bone to pick with someone. Two people actually. One is whoever invented the Brazilian wax and the other is the big mouth who told men about it.  Because ever since those two events occurred I've had men all up in my garden and not in a good way.

Seems like every where I go, every man I talk to is professing his love of the bald poon. Or the landing strip - which is just stupid. What is the point of that strip? All of a sudden no one wants to see hair down there despite the fact that the good lord Himself saw fit to put it there.

Well I am here to say to you all that I am not doing it. And I'm giving you 5 reasons why.

5 Reasons I will not bald off my p*ssy:

1. That shit is expensive. 

I'm a dougla girl and you know we come with more than our fair share of hair and the shit grows extra-fast. I can't be running to the salon every week dropping $60 to remove something that has every right to be there! Why - because you saw it in a porno once and you think that's cute? Try again.

2. It hurts!

My man - when was the last time you let someone spread a burning hot substance on your joint and then rip it off you? Just take a second and imagine it....and then try to dream up one good reason why I should pay money to have it done to me.

3. It's itchy

Unless you are comfortable being with a woman who a) occasionally needs Bump-No-Way on her private parts and b) scratches that shit like a monkey at a gym, you might want to think twice before insisting on the landscaping...when the stuff starts to grow back it itches like a motherfcuker.

4.  I am not 11 years old.

And I don't want my vagina to look like I am. That's all I'm gonna say about it really.

5. Take a look at your private parts and then ask me again. 

99% of the men who love an empty forest have pure thickets going on inside their briefs. If that isn't audacity I don't know what is.

Now let me just say this - it's not that I intend to leave the area wild and untamed. I groom myself. I trim and I spruce...the appropriate things can be found with no need for compass (© Nickerz). That's really all I can do. And to the men out there who complain about getting hair stuck in their teeth let me remind you that I don't really need your mouth to be down there anyway.

Who's joining me on my crusade to bring back the bush?

Throwback Tuesday - One is the Onliest Number

For most of my adult life I've been a one-woman show. And notwithstanding my auntie's prayers for a husband for me and my mum's assurances that "my time will come", I'm okay with it. Let's face it, I’m way too weird and way too solitary to really flourish in a long-term relationship.

I’ve really never bemoaned walking through life alone, but lately I’ve caught myself wondering if I should have married young.  Then again, the catalyst for these musings is always either some calamity that I don’t want to deal with or something heavy that I don’t want to lift, so I don’t think I have a crisis on my hands just yet.

It does make me wonder though whether I'll ever be willing to give up the sublime joy of living alone and let a (gasp!) boy move in here. Right now the idea holds just about zero appeal, but I’m still young(ish) and hot and running the streets every chance I get. Having a man to tend to will just slow me down! Ten years from now it might be a different story.

So in order to prepare myself for the possibility of co-habiting again, I’ve been giving some thought to the possible benefits of having a live-in man at casa max. This is what I’ve come up with so far:

1. He could take out the garbage.

2. He could investigate when I hear loud noises in the middle of the night.

3. He could lift heavy things.

4. He could nag me to do the things I am too lazy to do such as take my vitamins.

5. He could help me figure out which shoes to wear with my outfits.

Hmm that's all I can think of. That's sad.

Oh wait!

6. He could untangle the knots that I always get in my necklaces.

Oh good lord that's all I can come up with.  But I did come up with a few cons of having a man around. Let's take a look, shall we?

1. He will complain about the number of toiletries I have strewn all over the place.

2. He will complain about the number of shoes I have strewn all over the place.

3. He will talk to me when I am reading.

4. More laundry to do because I do not trust men to wash clothes for me. (Oh but I just thought of a pro! He could iron for me!)

5. He will snore. And while I don't really mind snoring so much, given a choice I'd prefer not to listen to it.

6. He will turn the television up too loudly. I know he will.

7. Although he could take out the garbage, in actuality he wouldn't and that would irritate me.

8. He will want to keep his clothes in my closets after I've finally gotten them arranged the way I want them

So yeah, all things considered it doesn't seem like having a man around wouldn't accomplish the same thing as hiring a handyman and a housekeeper. And I would have a lot more closet space.

Am i missing something? Enlighten me please!

Gotta Love a Good Ex

Okay now really - have you nominated me and my blogging buddies for the Black Weblog Awards yet? I hope you have but if you haven't there's still time to redeem yourself...get all the details and sh*t over here.

If you follow me on Twitter, yesterday at about 5:30pm you would have seen me tweet this: "Homeward bound with @superblackgirl". Then at about 12:15am you would have seen this: "Finally [home]!"

Now I'm reasonably sure that all of you are much better at addition than I am and can do the math on this - my sister and I left our parents' house which is two hours away at 5:30pm and I did not reach my home until 12:15am the next day. Why? Car trouble again.  Without boring you with the details, suffice it to say that said car trouble involved us sitting in my sister's disabled car on the side of the highway in a little town called Brant Ontario. After exhausting the list of relatives with cars and free time whom we might beseech to come and save us and drawing back nubs, there was but one solution: call Him.

Him is my ex, and I would have to say he is probably one of the world's greatest exes ever. Him is the ex that I have called at 2 o'clock in the morning to come pick me and my drunk friends up from the club and he has gotten up out of his bed to do it. Him is the ex who was at my house at 6:00am two weekends in a row to help me move. Him is the ex with whom I happily cohabited for two years after our breakup. Him plunges my toilet and fixes my computer for me. If I need something, I call Him and Him almost always comes through. Him is that ex who hangs out with me and my friends and laughs along as I tell stories of effed-up shit he did to me and then willingly admits that he was an asshole when we were together. And Him is the ex that graciously authorized a post celebrating our friendship, despite the fact that I have already used everything that has ever happened between us as fodder for this blog at least twice.

Now despite my tumultuous relationship history, there aren't a lot of dudes that even warrant the term ex. And most of the ones who do are dead to me are not in my life anymore. I don't really believe in being friends with my ex, but somehow this one slipped through the cracks and I'm glad we did because I really do think we are a shining example of the perfect ex-relationship.

If you are lucky to have an ex that you can actually stand to be in the same room with, who does not bring any drama or confusion into your life, with whom you can hang out and talk without him trying to get back into your pants,  thank him. Or her. Because a good ex is a great thing!

So what about you guys? Do you have a great ex or do you have the kind that you would murder if the courts were giving out bad breakup passes? Do you think the quality of the relationship predicts the quality of the ex? Share your stories in the comments.

And don't forget the nominations for the Black Weblog Awards! Easy instructions are right here.

The Gentlemanly Thing to Do

It's that time of year again. Nominations for the Black Weblog Awards have started and I would really like one. So show how much you love me (and I know you do) by nominating me. You can get all the details and sh*t over here.


This morning on my walk in to work I was behind a couple with their dog. The man and the dog were standing on the sidewalk while the woman - in a skirt - was on the grass scooping the dog's poop. Then she tied the bag up, he took her hand, and they walked away. Two things struck me as odd about this:

1. He held her hand after she scooped up dogsh*t and I didn't see anyone pulling out the hand sanitizer

2. Isn't it very ungentlemanly to let your woman scoop up the dog poo while you just stand there?

This got me thinking about the state of chivalry today. I'll admit that I have a slightly skewed frame of reference since I live in the rude man capital of the world, but even my beloved men of SBM are slightly less than enamoured of the whole chivalry thing...as they've mentioned here. And here. And here.

Now since I'm late posting today and I love it when things get all intereactive on here, I'm going to throw out some things that I always believed were the gentlemanly thing to do and you guys can tell me whether you agree, if you do them, what happens if your man doesn't do them, etc.

Ready?

1. Pumping the gas...no matter whose car it is or who is driving

2. Paying for dates.

3. Standing when a lady approaches a table or leaves the table

4. Pulling out chairs and helping with coats

5. Offering your seat on the bus, subway, etc. to a lady

6. Calling the day after you bone for the first time.

7. When walking down the street with your lady, staying on the outside(closer to the road) so she is protected from traffic.

8. Providing cab fare after a thronx.

School me as you guys always do.

And don't forget the nominations for the Black Weblog Awards! Easy instructions are right here.

7 Dudes I Might Not Date

It's that time of year again. Nominations for the Black Weblog Awards have started and I would really like one. So show how much you love me (and I know you do) nominating me. You can get all the details and sh*t over here.

While I'm not one for making big long lists of must-have's and must-be's in my potential mates, there are certain attributes that are either gonna get a man disqualified right out of the gate, or earn him a gigantic O__o. I'm too tired to do much more of a preamble, so let's get to it.

7 Dudes that I might not date:
 
1. A dude who has the same first name as my ex.

Although this renders the gazillions of men in the world named Mike completely useless to me, I just can't with this name. It's too creepy. I also wouldn't want to date a dude with the same first name as my father. I would however, really like to date a man named Max. I think that would be a tonne of fun.

2. An undertaker

I'm sorry, I know it's honest work, but no. Just - no. It's icky! A garbage man, yes. An undertaker - nope. And you know who's another no? An insurance claims adjuster. I don't know how those people sleep at night. Oh and lobbyists - they must be annoying as shit.

3. Formerly gay dudes


While I could probably get past a man who had a gaycurious moment once or had to do what he had to do while he was locked up; I don't think I could deal with a "reformed homosexual". If that isn't side-eye worthy I don't know what is.


4. The dude who once hit a girlfriend

Sorry Chris Brown. I'm not a fan of bad tempers, so I'm gonna have to take a pause for the cause before I bed down with this dude. Not necessarily because I think that once a hitter always a hitter, but more because dudes who hit probably also yell and you all know how I feel about yelling.

5. He who sleeps with prostitutes

I have no real issue with prositution, but I just don't rate a dude that has to sleep with a hooker. There's nothing a man can get from a professional that he can't get from an amateur if his game is right.


6. Heroic Dudes

While I recognize the carnal appeal of a police officer or a firefighter; I don't think I can date a dude with a job like that. Staying up nights gnashing my teeth wondering if he's shot up in an alley or burned to a crisp somewhere is really gonna eff up my beauty sleep.


7. A dude who has been in jail

This one kinda depends on what he was in jail for...but not really. I think I can overlook most offenses if the dude is hot enough depending on the circumstances. But it's one of those things that make people think you have bad judgment if you don't put it on your list and that's why it's on here.

So that's my list...what about you guys? What kind of guys/gals will make you take a pause before you jump in?

And don't forget the nominations for the Black Weblog Awards! Easy instructions are right here.

Throwback Tuesday - Lies We Tell Ourselves

Welcome to Throwback Tuesday. Since Google Analytics tells me that most of you are new visitors, I thought I'd re-post all the good ish you missed before you got on board the max-logic train.

Men I called you out already. Ladies, please believe your turn is coming. But today's lies know no gender; because everyone blows smoke up their own ass at one time or another. Now I'm not saying you have to stop doing it, you just have to know you're full of shit.

1. It just happened

This is the balm with which we soothe ourselves when we do someone something we shouldn't have. We all like to believe that the universe has conspired against us in such a way as to render us completely blameless when we find ourselves in an undesirable situation, when the reality is that our actions have set us on the path that led to this dreaded event. The #1 use for this line is cheating - we all just love to say it just happened and it was an accident, when really we made it happen ourselves by choosing to be in a setting that was conducive to it.

Unless you're one of those mythical magical people who actually does slip and fall on a dick/in a pussy, you need to stop lying to yourself.

2. You can't help whom you fall in love with

Unless we are talking about love at first sight - which we are not - this is a load of bullshit. In order to fall in love with someone, you kinda need to know something about them, spend time with them, have some kinda physical contact with them, get a sense of your compatibility. Am I right? of course I am.  So if you don't put yourself in a position in which it is possible for you to gain the kind of knowledge/connection that is required for you to fall in love, isn't it pretty much a guarantee you won't? And if you do spend time with someone and end up falling in love with them, haven't you facilitated that?

This expression never made sense to me - please enlighten me if I'm missing something.

3. I fell asleep

Oh this one just burns me! People use this one all the time! And guess what - nobody just falls asleep - you go to sleep. When you make plans to go out and you don't go because you fell asleep, you're a damn liar. Unless you have narcolepsy or fell asleep standing in front of your mirror with a mascara wand on your eyelashes, you're full of shit. You chose to lie down or sit down, you chose not to have some kind of safeguard to make sure you stayed awake or woke up when you had to, so guess what? You went to sleep. and you're an asshole.

Stop lying to yourselves people! 

What do you guys think? Are these legitimate excuses or just shield we use to hide from blame?

The Slow Dance

I don't know about you guys, but high school was a less than enthralling experience for me. I don't wax nostalgic on anything about that time...except one thing, the dances.  Particularly the end-of-the-night slow dance.

Ah the slow dance. It may just be the most slept-on courtship ritual. There's nothing like a slow grind to set your wheels to spinning, is there? It has all the elements you need: the dark room, the sexy music, the full-on body contact, all of this with the added titillation of being in public. Seriously - is there anything greater than a slow dance?

Remember when we were in high school and we would go to dances for the express purpose of having that slow dance with the girl or boy of our dreams? You didn't have to spend the whole night trying to talk to each other because there was a time for move-making: the end of the night. Of course, if the end of the night came and you didn't get your dance you were plummeted to the depths of misery, but oh well.

Unfortunately, like passing notes and cheer-leading uniforms, slow dances don't seem to fit in with adult life. It's such a tragedy. These days, when the slow jam portion of the evening comes, the ladies lean up on walls singing to each other and the men head to coat-check. Or their cars.

The dearth of slow dances has rendered a lot of really great songs almost useless so today I bring you my Top 20 Songs to Take a Grind To.

1.   Turn off the Lights - Teddy Pendergrass

2.   Crazy for You - Madonna

3.   Act Right - Teairra Mari (although I feel like I am the only person in the world who even knows this song)

4.   Night Nurse - Gregory Isaacs

5.   Birthday Sex - Jeremih

6.   I Don't Want to Do Anything  + Freak N You - Jodeci

7.   Storm - Glenn Lewis (If you follow me on twitter you already know this song makes me want to do bad things...)

8.   Me and Mrs. Jones - Billy Paul

9.   Let's Wait Awhile - Janet Jackson

10. Untitled - D'Angelo (if for no other reason than the opportunity to play that video in your head while you're dancing...oh lord) 

11. Missing You - Case

12. O - Omarion

13. Rock Me Tonight - Freddie Jackson

14. So Anxious + Stingy - Ginuwine

15. Stroke You Up - Changing Faces

16. Take Away - Missy Elliott

17. These Arms of Mine - Otis Redding

18. You Are My Lady - Freddie Jackson

19. It Kills Me - Melanie Fiona

20. Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin (Random? Yes. But it was always the last song at my high school dances so it wins for nostalgia. Plus it's like 20 minutes long so you get a good looooooong grind)

So tell me people - do you guys miss slow dancing too? Or is it still part of your life as an adult? What are your favourite songs to grind to?

Throwback Post: Random Funny Story

Another funny from my old blog. Sorry everyone - Nasty Fridays will resume next week.

Many, many years ago I had a little on again, off again thing with this guy. He was a rapper of moderate fame in Canada and when things first began with him his star was on the rise so he was pretty busy. Hence the transient nature of our...affair?

Anyway. Whatever you want to call it, it went on for months and it involved secks. A fair amount of it. And fainting. I once fainted during secksy time with this guy; which I believe he took as a testament to his manhood but in actuality was probably because all my fake ardor caused me to start hyperventilating. But whatevs. 

Where was I? So it went on for a few months and then died out because I moved back home to London. When I moved back I was busy not being called by various other riff raff so I really wasn't thinking about him at all.  But then one day I bumped into him at Fluid.  He was with some friends of his who were also friends of mine so by the end of the night our two groups had converged into one happy family. 

Now he has this one pervy friend who had taken a shine to my sister. So at the end of the night while she was being molested by dancing with him, Mr Rapper Man and I found ourselves standing relatively close to one another watching them. We hadn't spoken all night so I decided to be a big girl and go talk to him. So I went over, we started chatting. It soon became very apparent that had been brushed with the drunken stick. I persevered - what else did I have to do? And I guess in his extremely inebriated state he mistook my dogged friendliness for...interest?  Because he said to me "...if you're wondering what it would be like to be with me we could make that happen..."

Um, excuse me?

First of all, who SAYS that? And secondly, in the immortal words of Darius Lovehall: "we've already done it! I mean, repeatedly!"

And that's all there is to say about that isn't there?

A little fun on a Monday: My Market Value

UPDATE: I don't know what I was smoking when I posted this, but I've updated it so that the link to the test actually goes to the test. My score is posted in the comments.

This past weekend I was searching for inspiration and came across this "Dating Market Value Test" on Citizen Renegade. There's one for women and one for men and the number of points you get determines your value on the dating market. I think you should all take this test and tell me your score in the comments but in the meantime, take a look at the possible outcomes and guess which one I am?

-83:  You are proof that God does not exist, but that Satan does.

-82 to -56:  You’re an omega.  If it makes you feel better you will have your choice of male omegas to bang.

-55 to -40:  The majority of men are disgusted by the sight of you.  Your kind will suffer most when our sexbot overlords arrive.  Losers hit on you constantly figuring they have a chance.

-39 to -20:  You were born to cockblock.  But you’ll manage to marry a table scrap.

-19 to -5:  Lesser beta.  The men you want make fun of you out of earshot.  You spend many years learning how to settle for mediocre betas.

-4 to 14:  Classic beta.  Your hot friends always gets hit on first, but if you really tramp it up you can snag a slightly better than average guy to take you home for a single night of commitment.

15 to 29:  Greater beta.  More than a few attractive guys will approach you.  But if your personality is flawed you risk becoming a pump and dump victim.

30 to 43:  You are officially a nascent alpha female.  A lot of quality guys will hit on you and you will be able to pick and choose at your leisure.  But don’t push it.  You’re not quite hot enough to string guys along forever.

44 to 55:  You’re a bona fide hottie.  Nearly every guy who meets you agrees you are a hottie.  So does every girl.  This puts you in the top 1% of worldwide womanhood.  With great power comes great responsibility, so try to limit the number of men you torture with blueballs and LJFB rejections to fewer than 100 in your social circle.  As long as you are not a complete bitch, marriage with a top quality man will come easily to you.

56 to 63:  Guys want you, girls want to be you.  You are just short of perfection, which paradoxically means you will get hit on more than the super alpha females.  You are a player’s greatest challenge, and his greatest reward, because unlike the perfect woman there is still something human about you.  Sex, love, security, commitment, easy living… you have it all.  Only your demons can defeat you.

64:  Super Alpha.  The world is yours.  Life is an endless parade of joy and excitement.  Your power is illimitable… for now.

I'll post the correct answer tonight. Whoever guesses right wins the Hands-Down Favourite Commenter of All Time prize.

Black Man Sexy

My male readers often accuse me of bashing them so today's post is in honour of man. The Black man, that is. Because while I appreciate Brad Pitt as much as the next white girl, there is no sexy like Black Man Sexy.

And because I'm writing this at an ung-dly hour of the night, with no further ado I bring you...

5 Things that just look better on a Black man.

1. The threads

A well-dressed man is always a good thing, but a well-dressed Black man is a very good thing. I don't know what it is but put Chris Rock (mediocre at best) in a beautiful suit next to Dr. Mark Sloan (sexiest White guy on earth) in a beautiful suit and watch McSteamy disappear. Also? Black men are the only men on earth who look sexy in track pants.

2. The vocab
Big words are hot no matter who is saying them, but have you ever had a conversation with a Black man and he dropped a word like "concupiscence" on you? Good lord! Just mop me off the floor.

3. The muscles
A sexy body is a beautiful thing, but a well-built Black man is like a joyful noise unto the Lord. There is no better sight in life than a Black man's finely-sculpted back.

4. The jargon
Now this one is probably just for advertising nerds like me because I swoon in general for men with strategic minds. But a Black man who can calculate cost-per-reach-point and actually knows why I should care about it? Oh my word. (sidebar: I'm not talking about those twitter philosophers who just tweet cryptic bullsh*t about branding. That's not sexy)

5. The ass
Oh boy, a Black man's ass. I have no words.

Bonus: Eyelashes. Black men have the cutest eyelashes ever. Random and not really sexy but true.

I have to go now!

Canada vs. USA

Note: If you've found yourself here after Googling the results of yesterday's hockey game, you're lost and should probably leave now. This is definitely not the place for you.

The other day we talked about the drought that inevitably befalls every single woman at some point in time. And while the pursuit of dick-in-a-jar is one I wholeheartedly support, as previously discussed some wimps women decided to search for a boyfriend instead. Now for a single woman in Toronto this can pose a serious problem; this is a world-class city and all but the dating situation is dire. With what seems like 10 available women for every available man (9 of whom are simple bitches who will put up with all manner of bullshit just to keep his attention), it can be extremely difficult for a woman to find her next victim a mate in the city. If she's really serious about her search she's gonna have to diversify, but since Toronto is the epicentre of all things cool in Canada (sorry Vancouver, but you know it's true) there's not much point in casting your net north of the 49th. Unless you really want to live in Nunavut, that is. For the serious shopper, it's all about the American boy.

The trouble is, while we Canadians have a pretty good grasp of American culture, I have my doubts as to whether an American dude really knows what he's getting into when he decides to wife a Canuck. So I have compiled a handy dandy list of the things your Yankee man must understand before he moves to Canada. 

1. No Stacy Adams

This is what I think of when I think of American guys and I think my feelings on the subject can be best expressed in the words of the great Trinity Chris: "Bun a tight pants and a square front shoes". I don't know if people even still wear these, but if you come up here in some snakeskin ankle boots, you're gonna look like a freshie and embarrass your girl.

2. Fahrenheit: Opiate of the Masses

As far as I can see, Fahrenheit was invented to blow smoke up people's ass about the temperature. It's just a ploy to make the winter seem less cold - doesn't 32° sound a whole lot better than 0°?  Up here, we don't lie to ourselves about the weather.

3. Beaver tails are one thing, but ya'll are nasty

Chitterlings, ham hocks, barbecued pig's feet? Please check it at the border before you cross.

4. Nationalism? Doesn't really fly here

We know you guys rep the stars & stripes for life, but we don't really wanna hear that mess up here. Yes we went hard for Team Canada last night but in general we don't even love our own country so we damn sure don't want to hear about yours.

5. Talk di tings dem

You're not gonna make it up here if you look confused every time someone asks you wha gwaan or you don't know why you should be worried that there's a duppy in your house.  And if you screw up your face when someone offers you ackee & saltfish you're automatically deported.

6. Drake is not the messiah

Now that the hockey thing is all sewn up there's nothing that fills Canadians with more pride than Drizzy. But we are aware that he is not the first great rapper we've produced. Please get up to speed on Saukrates, Kardi, and Maestro or relinquish your right to talk about hip hop as soon as you enter the country.

7. Learn to like talking about weather

Eff hockey, that is our national pastime

Welcome to Canada. Enjoy your stay eh?

Baby what's your size?

One of the things women love to do is to take random facts about a man and deduce from them details about his attributes. There are many manifestations of this - how he treats waiters is indicative of how he will treat you, whether he wears a seatbelt is a sign of what kind of father he'll be. But by and large we gals like to use these little facts as indications of a man's d*ck size. (I tried hard to come up with a funny euphemism for this but let's just be frank for a change).

Women use all kinds of factors to get a preview of what the main event will be like - height, finger size, shoe size, length of his forearm, distance between the tip of his pinky and his wrist - but none of these are really foolproof.  And just eyeing the bulge in his pants doesn't work either...as Pamela Anderson once said "it might be all potatoes and no meat".

All of this got me thinking about whether there is in fact a way to determine the size of a man's weapon before going to war. And so, for you my dear readers, I have compiled a list of tell tale signs that your potential man packs a wallop.

1. He never talks about it.

Short-d*ck men will either tell you upfront that they are small, or they will lie and say they're big. Either way, he's talking about it rather than resting in the knowledge that you'll be more than satisfied when you see what he's got. A man who never mentions it is probably packing.

2. He has swagger but not bluster.

The distinction between swagger is an important one - not just in matters of penis size but in life in general. Swagger is smooth, bluster is obnoxious. A man with swagger knows he's dope and just expects you to realize it too. A man with bluster thinks he's dope and will explain to you in detail why that is. Think of it like the Napoleon Complex; just as a short man overcompensates by getting all alpha, a smallie does the same thing. In a nutshell, a man with swagger probably packs a mean punch while a man with bluster is probably packing a pencil.

3. He doesn't have to work for it.

Similar to above, a man who is genetically blessed (and makes use of his blessings) develops a reputation and soon enough will have pu$$y falling out of his pocket. If this man is not a professional athlete and employed, attractive, independent women are throwing themselves at him, there's probably a reason.

4. He gets repeat business.

If you really want to know what's going on south of his border, watch him closely and pay close attention to the women around him. As I said above, a well-hung man will have women throwing themselves at him. But if these women are also clamoring for a repeat performance it's probably a really, really good show.


5. When all else fails, grab it.

Some women swear by this method as the only foolproof way. But be warned - this may prompt several reactions, some of which may be a little unpleasant.

Ladies what do you think? Is there a way to tell what's going on beneath a man's pants? Should we even be trying to find out? Men - I'm pretty sure you stopped reading after the first paragraph so I'm not even gonna bother.

a little funny for you

In honour of Family Day, I'm not putting up a real post today but here's just a little something to tide you over til the next one.

If you know me in real life you know that I recently moved to the hood into a new place. Although I was living alone before I moved, this is the first place I've lived that was totally mine, which is great because unlike my last apartment, nobody else's stuff is in here and I can put everything exactly where I want it. Problem is when I lose things I have no one else to blame. Or so I thought.

Case in point: ever since I moved I have not been able to find my bible. I know I own one, I know where I used to keep it, and I know I moved everything but it was nowhere to be found. This has been bugging me for weeks now so yesterday I decided I was going to search top to bottom and not give up until I found it.

Do you want to know where I found it? In my "goodie" box under my bed buried underneath certain um, toys and suchlike. I know I did not put it there and only two people helped me pack - my little sister and my father. This tells me that depravity runs in my family.

size, shape, width, and girth

Way back when I first moved to Toronto, I lived in a house with four single girls. As you can imagine, all manner of debauchery went on in that house, to the point where we had a whiteboard in our kitchen were we kept track of the latest perpetrators of crimes against "the girls of 1560". Sadly I don't talk to most of the girls anymore (another post for another day) but I do remember those days and laugh my ass off.

One thing I remember most about those days was this guy we used to see all the time. He was a good guy; funny, mannerly, and dead sexy. But he occupied a position of prominence on our wall of shame because he had an unfortunate nickname: triangle d*ck.

If you're not familiar, triangle d*ck is one of the great tragedies of life. It's when a man's um, man part is shaped like a triangle. It may not be visible to the naked eye, but once it's in there roughing up your lady parts you will know you've encountered it. It's a terrible affliction because there is no cure and it totally negates any other positive attributes the man part might have.

Another one of the girls in the house had an encounter with a sugar bowl d*ck. This is where the girth far exceeds the length so that the penis has the same round, squat silhouette as a sugar bowl. Again - great guy, handsome, smart, funny...but, a sugar bowl.

Eff what you heard I'm a picky girl. I don't mind a gentle sway to the left or right, but I can't get down with these oddly shaped things. I think it might be a dealbreaker for me...but should it be? If I was to find that mythical magical majestical (© Mo'Better Blues) man that could put up with my crazy but had a triangular penis, should I toss him back or hang on for dear life? We all know that size matters, but should shape and girth?

Here's another story for you. Last summer I was hanging on the street corner (#noprostitute) with two of my favourite ladies talking about um, lady parts. I can't remember how we got on the topic, but we were talking about "fatness" and how bizarre it is for a man to compliment a woman for having a "fat pum pum". We wondered if this was an exclusive concern of black men and decided to start polling random white guys to ask them if they noticed or cared about how fat a woman's downthere is. As you can imagine, we got a lot of confused looks. It seems this matters not one whit to some guys, but seems to be quite important to others.

So gentlemen, tell me - does "fatness" matter? And what exactly constitutes a fat vagina? Would you turn down an otherwise ideal woman because her pu$$y didn't meet your standards?

Educate me oh wise ones.

A little treat for you....

When I was a lot younger, I dated this dude. I should have known he was a bad scene because he took me to see Blade on our first date (worst.movie.EVER!). But I persisted and, inevitably, the relationship led to sex. Immediately after we had sex for the first time, he looked and me and said "Were you spoiled as a child?"

I never understood what that meant.

The Crush Not Taken

In general, I’m a pretty happy person. No matter what’s going on in my life, I’m usually able to put a smile on my face and joke around as if I don’t have a care in the world. I’m one of those nervous-stomach types who gets sick whenever I get upset, so when bad things happen -  arguments, breakups, the Raptors lose – I don’t let them get me down.
But there is one thing sure to send me into the doldrums and that is when a crush must be prematurely or abruptly abandoned.
This has happened to me a lot and the reasons vary; sometimes I discover that the guy is a dickhead. Or he gets married or otherwise committed. Or he moves away. Or he turns out to be a cat-lover. Whatever the reason, having to drop the pebble of hope I’m carrying that my crush will one day wake up and see how perfectly suitable we are always sends me into a tizz.
See the thing is, I’m a big daydreamer. And when I have a crush on someone I’ve usually created my perfect fantasy of when and how he is going to fall in love with me. What he’ll say, what I’ll be wearing, our first fight, all that shit. I spend a lot of good, quality time (that could be put to much more productive use I’m sure) making sure every detail is suitably realistic and dazzling. So when I have to give it all up before it has a chance to come to fruition I feel as though my life’s work has gone to waste.
And call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only girl who has trouble giving up on a crush.
Why is it that we are more easily able to deal with the ending of an actual real-life relationship than we are to give up on a fantasy? To be honest, I blame the media. There are craploads of magazine articles and books out there to help a woman get over the end of a relationship. There are do’s and don’ts for it. But if you have to give up on a crush you get nothing. This is why I’m walking around with all these semi-abandoned crushes on wildly unsuitable men so I’m forever gasping in excitement when I see someone before I remember that he’s been crossed off the list.
I’m going to write a guide for women to help them get over unworkable crushes. I’ll make an effing killing and you guys can say you knew me when.