It’s that time of year, right after Christmas and right before New Years, when you all start reflecting on all the dumb shit you did during the year and all the good shit you’re going to do next year. Yeah, shut that shit up. Don’t talk about, be about it. If you’ve been in the habit of claiming years keep that shit quiet then open your mouth when you have some sort of triumph under your belt. I’m just the type of guy to say “I thought this was your year tho” when they are repossessing your car. I’m about that life.
2012 is just not a good year to claim
We’re already expecting the world to end based on a calendar of a civilization that got wiped out about 4 centuries back. I don’t know how they foretold the ending of the world but didn’t see the Spaniards coming. Welp, life comes at you fast. Besides these doomsday predictions, natural disasters have been on a roll these last few years. I personally experienced an earthquake and a hurricane in a 7 day span. Add more natural disasters along with global warming plus the economy is still fucked up; I wouldn’t start claiming any years until maybe 2015. You know let the whole apocalypse thing get old and give renewable energy a decent head start, maybe you should see if Obama gets that second term or not. I’m just saying 2012 is already rocky and it hasn’t even started yet.
365 days is a mighty long time
Some of ya’ll are praying to Jesus, Ali and whoever else you think might be listening to make this year better than the last year. Some of ya’ll are doing that same prayer just to make it from pay check to pay check and from day to day. Claiming and entire year may be just a little bit more than you can handle, especially if you’re waiting for somebody to jump down out the sky and give you a helping hand. Start small claim a month. Make February your month not only because it’s the shortest month of the year but because you can prepare for it all 31 days of January. Winning, but here's some other reasons why you shouldn’t claim 2012 as your year…
If you stood in line for those Concords Jordan 11’s but fail to acquire them
You can’t claim a year if you can’t even successfully buy a pair of Nike’s. It’s still early I’m sure nobody has claimed Memorial Day weekend yet if you act fast you can have that.
If any of your kids are less than B students
I don’t know who will end up with final ownership of 2012 but you better believe their kids won’t be in that slow class. Get your kids education up first then maybe you can claim a year or two. Parent of the year 2014 has a nice ring to it.
If you pay a car note on a car over 10 years old
You still dropping 300 a month on that 1999 Tahoe from Eastern Motors. You can’t claim a year if you don’t even fully own a car that came out last century.
You own every pair of Foamposites
The man of the year won’t be wearing lime green shoes, trust me on this one.
The best way to get a jump on a new year is having some sort of income. When the clock strikes 12 and you're popping Miller High Life because it was either a 6 pack of that or a bottle of Strawberry Andre champagne, you already know this is a year for rebuilding. Don’t go claiming any championships.
You have a RUSH card
If you’re depending on a card with a Phat Farm logo on it to take your girl to the movies and order your snap backs online 2012 can’t belong to you. I won’t allow it. I’ll find you and I’ll stop you. Someway somehow I’ll put an end to your campaign for ownership of 2012.
I have no dibs placed on 2012
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Thursday, December 29, 2011
It’s that time of year, right after Christmas and right before New Years, when you all start reflecting on all the dumb shit you did during the year and all the good shit you’re going to do next year. Yeah, shut that shit up. Don’t talk about, be about it. If you’ve been in the habit of claiming years keep that shit quiet then open your mouth when you have some sort of triumph under your belt. I’m just the type of guy to say “I thought this was your year tho” when they are repossessing your car. I’m about that life.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
***I left you last saying how a lot of women think their vagina is much better than it actually is, which naturally led me to this topic***
I’m “Mr. Keep it Real” to certain extent and that extent ends somewhere in the realm of looking a chick directly in her face and saying “Hey this pussy ain’t exactly the bee’s knees over here I’mma go head and stop fucking now”. Maybe I still have the smallest corner of tact left in me and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Perhaps in the back of my mind I’m hoping it’s a fluke and I don’t want to alienate any cheeks I might need if I ever find myself on a sex drought. Possibly I’m afraid of what just might happen if you tell a woman her vagina is trash to her face while she’s laying there naked; I’m not sure it has ever been done but I’m pretty sure the repercussions would be legendary. Either way I’m clearly not about that life and I’ve actually come up with steps to ensure the lady’s faith in her box while I’m in her presence (because once I’m on the other side of that door she won’t know me anymore).
Let’s just play make believe
Stored in my memory banks I have scores of attractive women with quality box that I’ve bedded over the years. I’m glad I’ve had these experiences because at any given moment with newly acquired random cheeks I may be forced to recall on them just to stay hard. It’s that serious and the flash backs aren’t fool proof. If I’ve ever rolled out of your pussy prior to climax stating I was “tried” then you should know your pussy ain’t shit. If you think this relates to a situation between you and I, don’t call my phone I’ll answer the question right now; yes it’s you. No man has ever been too tired to bust a nut; once I get to stroking it’s on unless your box is turning me off. Case closed.
The 15 minute rule
(And if I give no fucks about you it’s the 5 minute rule.) I have slept with women for so many stupid reasons I’m almost ashamed of myself, almost. So when one of these stupid reasons for putting my penis in a girl comes along or upon entry to the box I realize it isn't worth the condom; I already know we don’t have a future. My only real intention is keeping my reputation intact so I’ll give her 15 minutes to get one off before I fake my nut. If she doesn’t get off in that 15… oh well I gave her ample time and I’m out. Now the 15 minute rule goes out of the window if the pussy is good or in extremely rare cases its bomb. Now before any of you women get in an uproar claiming “men can’t fake a nuts because I would know” no you wouldn’t. This shit isn’t rocket science. I jump my man around a few times, breathe will fast for like 15 seconds, pull out, quick spin move then straight to the bathroom. I’ve never been called on my shit and I’ve never had a chick check that condom. Oh, you checking condoms? No you’re not because you believe your pussy is great so you don’t need to check.
After the deed is done
I’m coming back in the room with a soft dick and my boxer on either to gather the rest of my clothes to head home or to go night-night. If she asks me was it good I’ll lie right to her face “Yeah girl you got that work”. If she asks me for round 2 I’ll follow it up with another lie “I can’t go back to back with you, shit I might be in love come sunrise”.
The cat is out of the bag
Now you know the drill, you know my moves and I’m not the only guy that does it. Some of the homies aren’t even courteous enough to fake it they’ll just try to get the mouth. With this new found knowledge you won’t inspect a condom or even admit any of this is valid; you probably disregarded my entire last blog because your pride won’t let you believe you got less than A1 pussy.
One of these days I’mma just say this pussy ain’t gonna cut it and be out but until then…
Jean DeGrate is faking nuts
Monday, December 26, 2011
You’d be hard pressed to run across a woman who doesn’t think what’s sitting at the top of her thighs is God’s gift to man. Well, unless she’s a lesbian then the quality of her vagina is really a non factor, but all these other women would bet their children’s college tuition on the superiority of her pussy.
I’d like to equate good pussy to a good job. I got a good job and sure I get comfortable but every time I think of doing something stupid that might fuck it up I immediately come to my senses. I fear losing my job more than I fear going to jail, and I really, really, really don’t want to go to jail. If somebody gave me a brick of work right now I’d be more worried about my boss finding out than the police rolling up on me. If you’re getting good pussy you don’t want to fuck that up because good pussies, like good jobs, are scarce. And at the same time you’re reading this, with that ain’t shit pussy between your legs, you’re trying to convince yourself that you fit into those criteria. You probably don’t so here are the hints for further clarification…
Your pussy can’t be that great if you’ve slept with more than two ain’t shit niggas. Some guys are just reckless and would fuck up just about any situation; 98% of those guys are in prison. So the odds of any woman on the planet earth coming across more than 2 of those guys in a lifetime is highly improbable; unless you exclusively date parolees that is. You don’t attract ain’t shit niggas, your pussy just ain’t shit. We get the pussy, realize we can do without it then act accordingly.
Your pussy can’t be that great if you’ve ever called or text a guy when you got home from leaving his house but he never answered or responded to the text. Off top “I didn’t get it” and “I fell asleep” aren’t worthy excuses; even if he gives the tiniest of fucks about you he’d shoot you the “Are you home yet text” about a hour after you left. If you sent that “I’m home” text but don’t hear anything from him for a good 4 plus hours later the box is average at best. Side note: if he updates Twitter or FaceBook before you hear from him your pussy just might be horrible. You could be laying dead on the side of the road somewhere but he participating in trending topics and shit, that box is over you should just stop fucking.
Your pussy can’t be that great if you gave him the cheeks and he doesn’t attempt to go back in for seconds the next day. It’s only a few things in life that will stop a man from trying to set up that bomb pussy for the next day repeat session; death in the family, plans to leave the country, you know things that really can’t be rescheduled easily. If he’s sitting on the edge of your bed getting dressed or vice versa and doesn’t ask you what you’re doing tomorrow you should already know.
Your pussy can’t be that great if a guy ever hit the “Dipset” on you. (For those who aren’t familiar with the term. Dipset - when you’re talking to, dating, bunning or whatever you women equate up to fucking a guy somewhat regularly and he just falls off the face of the earth. Stops taking your calls and stops returning your text; all communication and interaction just come to a halt.) To most women the dipset is unexplained phenomena but one thing that always adds to the cause of the dipset is the quality of your box. If it was truly great he would actual try to workout whatever issues he may have had with you but it wasn’t so adding you to his blacklist app and blocking you on FaceBook felt like the right thing to.
So what if guys told that you’re pussy was bomb; men lie all the time.
Jean DeGrate is keeping it real with you
Thursday, December 22, 2011
“I keep the city's best never said she was the brightest so if you had her too it don't effect me in the slightest I never met a bitch that didn't need a little guidance so I dismiss her past until she disappoints your highness” – Pusha T
It’s nothing like the wise words of the cocaine rapper Pusha T to set the tone of the blog; plus that statement maybe one of the truest things ever put on wax. And despite the fact that he’s been rocking cornrows for his entire career he still speaks the truth.
We are all secretly optimist
Even as cynical as I appear to be I occasionally hope to be proven wrong; doesn’t happen often, but hey we can dream can’t we. So when the latest love interest comes along of course you only want to think the best of her. It doesn’t even matter if you met her in the club half dressed throwing back shots of Patron with a team of chicks that looked as if they were all down to fuck. All you know is she made you wait 45 days to get the cheeks and they say “never judge a book by it cover”.
You’re not Christopher Columbus of that pussy for sure
If you’re dealing with females 18 or better the odds of finding a saber tooth tiger in your backyard are greater then coming across some virgin pussy. So any woman you come across is going to have some mileage on her. This is just a fact. Finding a woman 25 plus without a kid or two is a major accomplishment in itself. Chances are you won’t be making any milestones with her either. She gives head and already swallows, started that with Dre after the prom; sorry bro. Anal; tried it didn’t like it. Pretty much unless you’re going swinger or S&M all the bases have been covered. On the bright side with that mileage comes a great degree of experience, trust me; you don’t want to be the first guy to get the mouth, it will end badly.
Almost every girl has a slutty moment
I’ve made it a point in my life to personally record as many female slutty as possible. If you’re a female friend of mine and I haven’t already asked you what your slutty moment is it’s either A. I already know it or B. You’re a slut everyday. With that said it’s safe to assume the girl you’re currently dating, bunning or consistently fucking has got 1, 2 or 37 of them under her belt. Maybe 3 different dudes test drove the box in a 24 hour span or she gave Gilbert Arenas some head in the VIP at Lux Lounge or she was gay for a year and ate more cat than a restaurant in Chinatown. If you don’t know any of these part-time Lesbos you need to get out more.
Let that double standard shit go
We all have a sexual history; some could fill a book while others can fill a pamphlet. You can’t keep putting these women on pedestals expecting them to be saints like their lives started the day they met you. She had to fuck somebody before you came along; your new pussy is some other dudes old pussy. With the knowledge that somebody else used to occupy that box you can focus on if you actually like her or not. If things don’t pan out the box will go on to the next guy.
Her pussy used to be a free agent
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Thursday, December 15, 2011
I’m taking this blog out to thank you coons for embarrassing yourselves and your families for the entertainment of strangers. I would say you’re embarrassing me as a black man but I throw no claim to you fools; I’m not Moses and you fools aren’t exactly the Israelites either.
Unfortunately one of my guilty pleasures is watching WorldStar videos my FaceBook friends repost. I’ve seen an African militia soldier hand a loaded AK-47 to a chimpanzee, a mom popping her pussy while her child yelled in the background “Eww, mommy you stink”, and my new favorite the video of the college kid getting the breaks beat off of him for a pair of olive green Foamposites. The kids from that video all got expelled from college and I’m sure they’ll be seeking employment in the fast food industry shortly but my homies and I died laughing at it so it’s all good, right? If it’s on WorldStar and it gets reposted it’s a 99% chance it’s something foolish that involves people of color AKA coons. They should have never given you niggas technology. I swear if something stupid or violent is about to go down those camera phones will be filming like you coons are freelance reporters for TMZ. If you hear “This is going on WorldStar” just drop whatever you’re doing and get the fuck from around there.
Coon Related Reality TV
I absolutely hate reality TV. Hate. Hate. Hate that shit, but even I had to hop off my high horse and watch the season opener of “Love and Hip Hop”. Between Jim Jones’ mother talking like she uses Drano for mouthwash and Jim Jones’ girl beating up Juelz Santana’s baby mother I was on the verge of adding that show to my DVR rotation, almost. Every time one of these reality shows focused on black people comes on the internet goes ape shit. I don’t even need to watch any of these shows just hop on Twitter or FaceBook around 9p on a Monday and every 3rd woman I’m friends with will be giving a play by play.
The Maury Show
If I’m ever at home in the middle of the day (which is almost never) I pray for a paternity test episode. It never gets old. The Negro paternity science always astounds me. “Him and Lil Dink have the exact same chipped tooth. Look at his tooth Ray-Ray, look at it. Maury, he needs to stop playing and start taking care of his son.” “Eh Maury, playa to playa she see me out this thing shining getting money; I only hit her like twice and came in her mouth every time. You can’t get pregnant by swallowing Maury. Now she coming out the blue trying to stick a kid on me dawg. You know that ain’t right playa. I know at least 3 other dudes around the way that hit that, and I’m daddy?. Run that test Maury read them results homie.” Maury is just sitting there holding that manila colored envelope and says “Ray-Ray… You are not the father” in that calm Maury tone. When that coon stands up and starts doing that “I’m not daddy dance” I rejoice along with him. I’m glad he won it’s not even about the kid to me. Yeah I know, I ain’t shit but it’s not like I’m the one on TV for not knowing who fathered my child.
The home of Tittie Tuesday, Thong Thursday, Freaky Friday; well Twitter is pretty much down for some sort of female nudity every day of the week. I think it might even be a Heathen Sunday but I’m not sure, but anyway I sure do love me an e-slut they are the greatest. Why not expose your goodies via Twitpic for the chance to be retweeted into infamy? I may not know your name but those titties have appeared on my timeline 15 different times today alone; whether it was ridicule or praise, I’ll never forget them titties. Oh and it you didn’t know the internet is forever and somebody is cataloging all your dot.com whorish moments so we can all enjoy then at a later date. Thanks sweetheart.
Yes, you coons are very entertaining but at what cost to yourselves?
Jean DeGrate is just giving thanks
Monday, December 5, 2011
I know lots of men that think they want women with jobs that sound good on paper, but how does any of that really help you? “My girl is a lawyer” and that’s great if you plan on breaking the law. “My girl is a doctor” and that would be a blast if I didn’t already have health insurance. I’m bypassing the bullshit and going directly to the occupations that will benefit me the most. This whole concept started last week when I came across a massive collection of Target receipts and I don’t know why but I tallied them up. Honest to God truth I dropped a little under 4k in that store over the last 6 months on DVD’s, bullshit electronics, TV dinners and other simple shit. So this brings me to the first chick I’d love to date…
Preferably one of those phat assed tan pants wearing cashiers. She knows for a fact when the sales are coming so I can stack that on top of her discount not to mention she’ll have my Bluray collection on smash. HD everything all the damn time son.
Even though I don’t buy Jordans and foams like the coon next door, I do get most of my fitted hats from there and I randomly find a shoe that actually suits my sense of style. I honestly only have about 6 pairs of J’s left in my collection, but I do have a 4 year old and 2 thirds of her shoes come right out of that kids’ section. How could I lose with that type of girl on my team?
I have never had a pleasant experience at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Like never in my fucking life. NEVER. It’s always a gang of mustache rocking busted women with big time attitudes that seem to be taking it out on the world because they are in a position of power and just maybe if you’re lucky one cute joint that’s cool. I would have to make that cute joint mine. I don’t even visit the DMV that often but just to avoid all the bullshit and wasted time I would bun her up quick and treat her like a queen. I can just roll over and say “Baby you know my tags expire next month” then precede to dick her down. I’d stay winning.
It never fails every time I get home from the store and start putting the groceries away I always remember some shit I forgot to buy. Do you know how sweet it would be if I could just shoot my baby text saying “pick up 2 light bulbs I totally forgot the bulbs blew in the ceiling fan”? I’d probably never go grocery shopping again ever time I need something I’d just tell her to bring it home from work.
They’re always open and I’ve yet to fuck an Ethiopian chick. Don’t judge me bro.
Nordstrom’s is my favorite department store. Customer service is always on point, the return policy is incredible and they have the ideal combination of high end and low end merchandise. Where else can you go to buy a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo loafers and a pair of $59.95 Asics? Now top all that awesomeness that Nordstrom’s already is with a discount.
I love going to the movies and when I can’t find the time or the right person to see a flick with I visit my local bootleg hero. Nope, I’m not ashamed at all. Just imagine all my movies for free, IMAX, 3D and all that shit at zero cost. Do you know how much movies are going for now? You can easily spend 50 for 2 tickets, soda and nachos; that’s a Cricket cell phone bill right there. I’ll smoothly date one of those girls working there and let her do way more than butter my popcorn.
Yeah having a girl that’s CEO at some corporation is a mean bragging point, but where’s my discount?
Jean DeGrate is frugal
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
There are certain things people do and say that just make me leery of their motives and overall outlook on life. Here’re a few…
I don’t trust niggas that eat pussy but don’t eat pork
People don’t eat pork for a colossal array of reasons: religion, heath, or shit, maybe they watched “Charlotte’s Web” one too many times. I can’t judge them on any of that. I personally don’t partake in the eating of the vagina; I even wrote a blog about it. Now, how can you draw the line at pork all the while continuing to eat pussy that’s been marinating in panties and tight denim day in and day out (not to mention the random penis that’s been in there)? Come on son. That pork in your local grocery store is government-approved USDA shit. Show me some USDA pussy… I’ll wait. That entire logic is flawed, plus nobody ever got an STD from bacon.
I don’t trust niggas that get that little bit of haircut before their dreads
There’s absolutely no good reason on God’s green earth to chop off a row or two of locs to have an inch of brush cut. That’s a sure sign of indecisiveness and blatant disrespect of your hairline. There’s no way you can make concrete decisions if you can’t choose between long hair or short hair.
I don’t trust women that wear weaves that don’t even look remotely believable
There was a time when a woman’s weave was meant to deceive; women used to pay top dollar and sit for 8 hours just to get hair from India sewn into their Negro scalps, with surgeon-like precision. Too bad that era ended some time ago. Now, bitches are getting weaves done on back porches during cookouts by another bitch that already had 3 shots of Patron and a jay of loud. One spiral cornrow, 2 packs of tracks, and 3 hours later, she’s looking in the mirror staring at a hair-do that looks less believable than those rainbow-colored wigs clowns wear. I can’t trust women that don’t even put effort into being deceitful.
I don’t trust BLACK niggas that date unattractive white women
I’ve never dated a white woman… fucked a handful, but never actually got around to the whole dating thing. Now, if I ever were to date a white woman, she would have to be a topnotch white woman. I’m talking Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, Jennifer Aniston, Jessica Biel, or Topanga back when she had that “Boy Meets World” figure. Do you know the amount of hate you get when you’re out in public with a white woman as a black man? Every black woman that’s within 30 yards of you fucking hates you. If you’re out with a white woman you should just avoid eye contact with all people of color; trust me, they’re judging you bro. Now, if you switch to white and end up with a busted ass Rosie O’Donnell looking bitch, that’s not even worth the ridicule. I couldn’t even begin to understand the motive behind dating a mediocre white joint. All that talk about white bitches giving bomb ass head doesn’t even justify fucking Rosie O’Donnell. Plus, it’s 2011, colored bitches have gotten their head game up-to-par with their white peers. Real talk, let my white bitch lose a motherfucking step, and I don’t give a fuck if we’re married, splitting a mortgage, and my car is in her name (because white bitches have the best credit), I’m leaving her ass with no hesitation.
I don’t trust broke women with expensive shit
You work at Staples, but you drive a 2010 Lexus… How are you paying that car note? There ain’t but so much money you could possibly make working behind a cash register. Oh word… you’re clearing $50k a year double bagging groceries and shit? Not in this lifetime. Your handbags total up to the average price of a condo in a bad neighborhood, but you’re a shift manager at CVS. I’m sorry; there isn’t that much savings out here. I don’t believe you did it on your own; I just can’t. You had to lease that pussy out. I’m not saying you’re a flat out hoe; I’m sure niggas ain’t coming thru leaving money on the nightstand and shit, but there’re some sexual favors going down somewhere.
I don’t trust straight women that don’t do anything about their facial hair
I mean I’ve never heard a man say “I love bitches with mustaches”. As a matter of fact, that goes for chin stubble and sideburns. Besides the fact that women with facial hair is grossly unattractive, but when you just let those whiskers grow wild you’re saying you don’t give a fuck about your appearance. Nor do you care about being appealing to the opposite sex. I can’t trust a girl with a Rick Ross beard.
Maybe, I just got trust issues. Or maybe, niggas and bitches just can’t be trusted.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Friday, November 11, 2011
*** This excludes exes that are actually cool with each other or have kids together. And, let’s be clear, if you haven’t amicably spoken to your ex out of your own free will (not because he cornered you in Whole Foods when you were waiting in line at the deli) in the last 6 months, you’re not cool. ***
This really could be the shortest blog ever because your ex actually owes you…*wait for it*… not a motherfucking thing… well except that “it burns when I pee you might want to go see a doctor” call. I guess that concept is crazy to some folks since a lot us have some entitlement issues. Here is my brief list of things people expect post break-up.
The entire concept of closure is crazy. People want a face-to-face sit down to hear why the other person no longer wants to be with you. My personal take is they don’t want you so they are leaving the situation, case closed. Nobody owes anybody an explanation; it isn’t like your time together will go on a relationship resume and perspective mates will Google it and decide accordingly. “Oh I dated this chick; she has bad break up protocol; she ended her last two relationships via text, and the one before that she just stopped taking dude calls then blocked him on FaceBook.” That will never happen. I know some folks are going be like “that’s just common courtesy”, but common courtesy is holding the door for the person directly behind you, not having a drawn out conversation with a person you no longer want to be in your life. Nope, that’s just awkward. What’s a polite way to say, “You make me sick, and I don’t want to know you anymore, but let’s pretend to be friends”?
Not Fucking/Dating your friends
If your ex fucks one of your homies, you can only be mad at one person… your homie. How can you really be mad at somebody who’s not a part of your life to pass out up on some sex and possibly more just because they hangout with you? That’s kind of selfish and overbearing to believe that you can control somebody’s sex life that you don’t even speak to. Let that man live, but your homie, on the other hand, that’s something you two might have to sort out. Trust me, if any of my exes are reading this, and we don’t even speak anyone one of your fuckable homies is fair game. Hi Kaysha, this is Jean, Jewel’s old boyfriend, if you look anything like you did in the 12th grade, hit me up I’m on FaceBook. Yup, Retro Thirst… I’m quenching it for the world to see.
Acknowledging your presence in public
I personally haven’t had many girlfriends, but I’ve dated enough girls to absolutely dread the “random bump into each, let’s catch up and how you been” conversation. I haven’t seen nor spoken to you in the last 5 years; please don’t run up on me in public like you have been looking for me in day time with a flashlight. I swear to sweet baby Jesus, I’m going to tell you get the fuck on like homeless man begging for change. We don’t know each other anymore so just because my penis was in your mouth once upon a time, don’t think I owe you 5 to 10 minutes of fake conversation. I’m extremely Google friendly, and my cell phone number hasn’t changed in over 10 years, you could have found me. I’m also pretty sure if I was interested I could have found you too… message. If you see me in the streets, and we make eye contact (and ONLY if we make eye contact… Don’t go screaming my name across shopping malls and shit) toss me the head nod. I’ll toss one back in your direction then keep it pushing.
Honorable mentions that don’t really deserve any explanations
Accepting FaceBook friend request
Following back on Twitter
Happy holiday/ birthday text and/or emails
Returning any phone calls or replying to any other forms of communication
And my personal favorite; doing any sorts of favors i.e. No I won’t hand your resume off to my boss; why on God’s green Earth would I want to work with you.
Think of your ex like a car you sold; once you let it go you lost all the perks.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Before we get into this, I just want to say that I may be one of the worst people to talk about the state of the economy because if it wasn’t for the Washington Post and constant contact with large quantities of broke people, I wouldn’t know shit about it. I have job security, real money in the bank (not just enough to keep them from closing the account), a 401k, and at this current moment Louis Vuitton shoes on my feet. I said all that to say, I’m not hurting in the slightest; nevertheless, I still relate to the plight of the poor people in the “Jay-Z still rapping about selling drugs” kind of way.
So, this morning I’m making my daily visit to MSNBC.com and this headline literally jumped off my screen “Lawyer turns topless dancer to pay the bills”. It’s the story of a woman in her mid 30’s that got laid off from her firm, ran thru her savings, and was facing eviction until she bit the bullet, and set them titties out. I have to respect that; she’s out here doing what she has to do to keep her head above water. She probably will get a Lifetime movie of the week in the near future; so stayed tuned.
Aside from pole dancing lawyers, 1 in 6 Americans live below the poverty line (makes less than 22,350 yearly) that means at least one person reading this blog is poor as fuck. The economy is still all the way fucked up, but there’s still money out here, and definitely ways to keep some money in your pockets.
Is your pride keeping you down?
I know a lot of people with a chest full of pride, and a pocket full of lint. There are jobs out here; some of these gigs might not be as glamorous as we’d like them to be, but they’ll keep a check coming. You can’t be too good to push a vacuum in an office building, when that final notice for your electricity comes in the mail. You can’t be above working overnight security, when there’s an eviction notice taped to your door. You can’t be beyond flipping burgers, when the repo man is staking out your house. If you’re a citizen of the US, there’s no way you can’t find a job no matter how fucked up your resume may be. I see foreigners all the time with 2 and 3 jobs, and these folks can hardly speak English. Don’t wait until the unemployment runs out and all the bill collectors are coming at your neck to decide it’s time to fill out the Wal-Mart application.
Are you living beyond your means?
You bring home 3k a month but your monthly expenses come up to 2,987 leaving you with a whopping 13 bucks to drop into the old savings account. If you don’t already know, I’m telling you now; you’re fucking up. If you actually have to save up and budget to pay for simple things like a new TV, a tune-up for your car, or a weekend out of town, you’re not living right. If you’re making like 12 bucks an hour living by yourself, riding the bus and living check to check, I can’t knock that; but, if you’re outside that minimum wage range and trying to keep up with the Jones’s, that’s all bad.
Are you financing your life?
Even with the credit being all fucked every single day I see a new credit card commercial with some sort of crazy incentive. Their talking to somebody; is that somebody you? Your outfit for the club for Howard Homecoming; do you still Master Card something on that? You copped that 60inch flat screen with Blu Ray player and surround sound, but you tossed it on the Best Buy card. In my personal opinion, you should not finance anything other than cars and homes. So that leather sectional with matching end table you’ve been eyeballing, but your cash isn’t quite long enough to buy it out right… you might want to pass on that. Trust me, that won’t be the last couch they make, and by the time you get your money up, you might not be feeling it anyway.
I feel your money woes just in a 3rd person kind of way
Jean DeGrate wants you to get your money up
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Somehow, someway women still manage to get swept off their feet by niggas that aren’t fit to raise a goldfish. These ain’t shit niggas dog them out and in worst case scenarios knock them up then get missing. Half of those little bastards you saw on Halloween parading up and down the street begging for candy are bastards for real because their daddies are MIA like they got killed in Iraq. So today I’m going to do a public service in attempt to limit fatherless children and bitter bitchhood (bitter bitchhood I’m coining that phrase) I give you all the 7 subtle seven signs that he might not be shit. You’re welcome.
1. He has every pair of Jordan’s and or Foamposites
Before anybody jumps to conclusion we aren’t talking about legitimate sneaker heads that actually collect shoes or rich guys. I’m talking about Tyrone that lives on top of the hill that drives a 1998 Impala, lives in a one bedroom apartment and has a job where he’s required to wear a name tag. Now that guy he ain’t shit.
2. He has a top of the line cell but not much else
He got that white iPhone 4S the day it came out but now he’s flat fucking broke. The message here is his priorities are all the way fucked up, but he’s going pull some bad bitches with iPhone though because bitches love iPhones.
3. He refers to women in regular conversation as bitches
I’m not talking about in a derogatory sense but before he thinks woman he thinks bitch i.e. “Oh, I know where we at now my man had a bitch that stayed around the corner from here” or “I love the bitches that work in my dentist’s office, they always take care of me”. This guy has pimp like tendencies and he’s going to try to get that money up off of you.
4. He stashes his condoms in his own home
If it’s about to go down and he goes into the DVD case for Ghostbusters II and pulls out a magnum that nigga ain’t to be trusted.
5. He bums cigarettes from strangers
You know who ask for shit from strangers? Homeless people, but when homeless do it they’ve loss everything including their pride. So when a gainfully employed man does it he’s a fucking leech.
6. He owns a Scarface poster
It’s only acceptable for girls to own posters and when I say girl I actually mean females that aren’t old enough to vote. So when a grown man has a picture of a fictional drug dealer plastered on his wall and he’s not a famous gangster rapper he’s just a fucking lame.
7. He smokes around kids
Stand up men don’t smoke around kids. They understand the health risk and just might fire up the loud pack right next to their man that still on papers but let a child walk into that room. That same guy will put that shit out then hop up and open a window. But ain’t shit niggas don’t care if the youth has cancer and in turn they don’t care about the future.
Go head run down this checklist compare with your dude
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Last night, I was standing in front of my building smoking a Black, and I said to myself, "Jean, this dating thing would be a whole lot easier for everybody if folks really just said what they were looking for off top. You know what, Jean? You should blog about that." Yea, I come to these types of random epiphanies on the front stoop; I'm deep like that, sometimes. Or... it could be that 90% of my roster expects way more than me than I'm willing to give, and 90% of the time, it's clear that could have been avoided even before the first date when we watched a bootleg flick and ate carryout. I guess that's another blog... on with this one.
Everybody typically has the same first conversation questions. I don't know why people get nervous for first dates. After a couple of them you should already know how the Q&A session (I mean "date") will pan out. "How many kids do you have?" "Who do you live with?" "What do you do for a living?" "What do you like to do?" and so on so forth, blah blah blah blah blahhhhh. Pretty much, all bullshit because none of it really tackles what you REALLY need to know. So I propose this, before a movie date is set, Cosi salads are eaten, or happy hour shots are drank, you should find out what's really good on that first phone call. Set aside 45 minutes ,and ask...
Question 1: "What are you looking for exactly?"
Everybody is looking for something when talking to a perspective mate. Are you just looking for a shot of ass? There's absolutely nothing wrong with being strictly interested in sex, and we are all adults so there is no need to be coy when you can flat out say, "I just really want to fuck". There's probably a way more tactful way to say that, but, in case you're new to "Jean DeGrate has Spoken" you should know this isn't a blog built around politically correct shit. Other than that, some people might not want anything serious and just want to have a good time with a cool person or have a day-by-day approach. None of that may be your cup of tea if you're looking to settle down or wanting kids and/or even marriage in your not so distant future. This question alone can end a meaningless courtship before any feelings get involved.
Question 2 "Do you have a problem with...? Will it be a deal breaker?"
Everybody has his/her little quirks, pet peeves, serious fucking mental issues, and/or skeletons in closet. Lay that shit out there off top. You're a part-time lesbian. Word? You've got more charges than a stun gun. Oh ok. There's a video of you getting gang banged on World Star Hip Hop, but it's from your wild and crazy college years. Hmmm. Your baby mother is psycho and is prone to pull your toddler out of bed so she can come flatten the tires of whatever woman may be at your house after midnight. Oh, really now. Folks won't normally share these kind of things with you, but I'd much rather get rejected by a stranger than somebody I've been kicking it with, possibly have slept with, or (wait for it) caught feelings for. Plus, nobody wants to wake up to find their new boo crouched in the corner of the bedroom chewing on your underwear. If you're psycho, let a nigga know off top you're a crazy bitch.
Question 3 "How do you expect to be treated?"
Honestly, nobody is going to say, "Treat me like shit; I love to be dogged," but some people have standards and requirements that you might not be down to adhere to. I know damn well if a chick is expecting me to go half on her bills or drop cash for her hair and nails every week, I'm going to tell her to keep it pushing. He might want a chick to cater to him... come over, cook dinner, wash clothes, and clean. You might not be about that life. She might want a guy to send her roses just because and good morning text messages just to let her know he's thinking of her, but you may not have an unlimited text plan, be allergic to flowers, or just not be on your Simp shit.
Asking the hard questions and keeping real ain't hard, but oddly nobody at all is doing this shit.
Jean DeGrate is trying to help you
There’s a mean ass dating double standard out here. Men are typically just looking for companionship with side of pussy, and women are looking for… well what women are looking for is a bit on the gray side of things. Most women have no clue what they are looking for so they just pretend to be looking for love instead of humbling themselves and admitting they are looking for a superhero to save their asses.
Men aren’t that complex when it comes to love
Being cool and fuckable will get you halfway to girlfriend status prior to you having to actually give up the pussy. A non-nagging, non-gold digging chick with good sex, up-to-par head, and a REAL job (somewhere you can get a W2 from) will have you meeting the parents in no time flat. Pretty much everything after that, like common interest, the ability to actually operate a stove, and living in her own place, are just extra perks. Yeah, that concludes the male section of the blog. I can’t even get deeper than that because that’s just how simple men are.
NOW… let’s talk about women…
Every other woman (which is more like 4 out of 5 women) has this imaginary table, and it’s absolutely imperative to bring something to it. She already has shit on this table, and in order to even begin any kind of courtship you have to add even more shit to her existing shit. (I know women are complicated, but follow my logic people) Even if none of the shit on the table benefits you in the slightest, “as a man”, you need to bring something “to the table”. Women have a funny way of deciding what SHOULD be attractive to perspective mates, i.e. “Bitch, I got 3 months left at Sanz School. I’m a fucking catch.” Being a good dude is no longer good enough. You must be on her “level” or better. (Most bitches actually prefers better.) The reality of it all is there is no reason why a man should have to bring anything to the table other than good companionship and genuine intentions. If you’re a woman and about your shit, everything that you bring to the table should be good enough (this statement is more wishful thinking than anything else).
Looking for a Simp?
Almost every time I hear a woman lay out her requirements of a male, 70% of it has something to do with his financial status and worldly possessions. You need him to be God fearing? Check. At least 5’9”? Check. No more than 2 kids? Check. No criminal record? Check. After that… it’s all about the money, car, crib, homeownership status, making X amount a year, 401k, and so on and so forth. Bitch please… Why is a plus for a man to be a homeowner if you’re renting? Why are you looking for a man with more than you yet still expect to be treated like an equal? If I’m bringing more to the table than you… Fuck it… I’m the Boss (no Rick Ross). Pussy and wet mouf won’t get you an equal share in this partnership.
Keep it real
If you’re looking for a come up with maybe a splash of love on the side, go ahead and just say so. I won’t judge you… Hoe! But, I won’t deal with you either. You’re in search of a hero; somebody to help supplement those bills. There’s a guy out there willing to do all of that (as long as you’re fine, but you busted bitches need to fend for yourselves). That old school “men are the provider” role kicked the bucket about 40 years ago so you have to be fine or dating a fool that doesn’t know he could get pussy for less. If you’re really looking for love you and really want to be loved, then you need to cut some of that bullshit out of your criteria. Jamal, the head cashier at Safeway, might honestly be the man of your dreams even if he lives in his Grandma’s basement and drives a 1986 Honda Accord. You’ve got to keep it real with yourself and the niggas you’re dating so both of you know what you’re signing up for.
Pick a lane… love or money?
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
I want you all to know before I even get started, I'm using the size guidelines society gave to gauge what a fat/large woman actually is. This shit here is not rocket science. I wear a large T-shirt and sometimes an extra large T-Shirt. If a woman can fit my large T-shirt, she must be a large bitch. If a woman is too big for my large T-shirt, she must be an extra-large bitch. I didn't invent these sizes, I just reapplied the logic for you larger than usual women. (Yes, I’m saying "large" because "fat" or "obese" tends to carry a negative connotation… I’m an asshole, but I’d like to keep my LARGE readers) Now, on with the blog…
Unless this is your first time reading my blogs, you already know I have a phobia of getting crushed by fat woman in my sleep. Aside from that, I have a huge assortment of other reasons why a heavyweight and I will never pan out.
1. She'll never look cute in my clothes
You know when a chick is prancing around the house with your T-shirt and panties on the morning after? You know when a chick scrambles your eggs topless in your boxers? If you’re getting pussy like JD, of course you do. If you aren’t reading this blog fantasizing about Ms. New Pussy in your white tee, you're probably used to dating wide-bodied women. Now, tell me what she cooks your eggs in… a bed sheet perhaps? I don’t care what you overweight lovers say, ain’t shit sexy about Queen Latifah wrapped in toga.
2. I might have to actually fight her
I'm a pretty strong guy. (On a good day I rep 320 on the bench.) So if my lady friend decides that she wants to put her hands on me, it's really nothing for me grab her and restrain her until finds her cool again. Now, dealing with a big chick, that fight might not be so easy. Dealing with her size alone is a fight in itself. While I'm wrestling with her weight trying to keep her cool, she will be actually landing punches… hard ass grown man type-of punches. It won't be long before I square up and start jabbing the big bitch in the face. I'm pretty sure before the night is over, I'll be sitting in somebody's jail cell waiting for my one phone call. I’m just saying dating petite bitches keeps me out of said domestic disputes.
3. Sex with the lights on is a no go
Most larger women rock some sort of apparatus to make their shape seem more flattering than it actually is. The more clothes she loses, the less appealing she'll become unless you fancy back rolls and FUPAs (Fat Upper Pussy Areas). Plus, I’ve never had any fantasies of fucking Stay Puff aka The Michelin Man.
4. Fat women generate heat
Big girls run hot like cars with busted radiators. Sure having a burly chick would come in handy if I got snowed in during a power outage, but keeping a fat chick on deck for just that instance would be fucking crazy. If while sitting on the couch, she decides to snuggle up on you, it’s like have a super nova lying in your lap. It will be a smooth 20 degree difference between under the covers to room temperature. She'll have my bed like a sauna every morning; I'd wake up 2 pounds lighter, in a pool of my sweat. Yeah, fuck all that.
5. I won't be able to save you
Heaven forbid a fire breakout and a wooden plank falls from the ceiling landing on your ankle breaking it… Guess who won't be carrying you to safety? This guy. At that very moment, it becomes a "you die or we both die" type-of situation, and I want to live. If somehow you end up hanging from the side of a building or the edge of a cliff, I can't pull you up. I don't even know if there is an exercise I can do to develop that lifting people of the ledge muscle group. You better hold on while I find some rope and build a pulley device. What if we're getting chased by zombies and you started wheezing and cramping up because you haven't moved your legs that fast since 3rd grade gym? Please know that I can't stand there and fight off the walking undead while you catch your breath, but while they feast on your flesh, it will give me a 10 to 15 minute lead on them.
Just in case you thought I had no basis in my prejudice.
Jean DeGrate is fucking a skinny woman tonight
Friday, September 23, 2011
Because everybody loves a good stalker tune...
5. Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You”
“It’s too bad, it’s just too sad
You don’t want me now
But I’m gonna change your mind
Someway, somehow, oh baby”
This is one of my favorite Marvin tracks right here, but I’d never play it in the company of a female because she every got passed Marvin’s smooth crooning those rape-ish undertones would standout clear as day.
4. The Police “Every Breath You Take”
The title alone would make a great slogan for the NASS (National Association of Stalkers and Simps). If you didn’t know stalkers and simps roll in the same circles, and most simps eventually become stalkers anyway.
“Every single day, every word you say
Every game you play, every night you say
I’ll be watching you”
The original version had the word “Bitch” in it several times i.e. “Oh can’t you see? You belong to me, Bitch” but they dropped it to make it more radio friendly. Everything about the song says, “Bitch, I’m going to kill you then play dress up with your dead body and still get away with it,” but it was the jam back in the day anyway.
3. Bob Marley & the Wailers’ “Waiting in Vain”
“It’s been three years since I’m knocking on your door, and I still can knock some more”
Do you know how long 3 years is in Jamaican time? Technically, since Jamaica is like a 3rd world country their days are like 4 hours longer than those in normal civilizations.
“Tears in my eyes burn, tears in my eyes burn
While I’m waiting, while I’m waiting on my turn”
So he is waiting and crying for years over a bitch that’s dating another nigga. There’s actually a waiting list for that pussy. To this day, I want to see a picture of the bitch this song is based on. I know deep in my heart, she had to be the finest woman in all of Jam Rock.
2. Heather Headley “In My Mind”
This song screams out to how some delusional some women are and the imaginary relationships they keep all bottled up inside their heads. I wonder how many women are involved in an imaginary relationship with me.
“He’s standing with her, but his soul is calling out my name.”
Really son… you can hear his soul? Nevermind that woman on his arm that he’s out and about with, you know what’s really real.
“In my mind, I’ll always be his lady.
In my mind, I’ll always be his girl.”
I wonder what her FaceBook relationship status says. Would that fall under “it’s complicated” or “open relationship”?
1. MéShell Ndegé Ocello’s “Outside Your Door”
The opening line of the song is “Here I sit outside your door, talk to me.” She’s not chilling in your favorite Starbucks hoping you might swing by or even hiding in a car parked several yards away from your house. She’s sitting on your front step waiting for you to come outside. Every verse she speaks in this extra calm serial killer tone. If there was ever a time to be afraid of a bald headed lesbian holding a guitar… this was it. I wouldn’t hesitate on shooting this dyke, and no court on God’s green Earth would convict me after I played this track for the jury.
“Here I am, waiting… Just waiting… Anticipating a chance to run into you. I sit here for hours. One day, I even sat through a rain shower… For just a glance…. A chance to talk to you. You're probably wondering how I even know you.”
This here is beyond “restraining order” stalking this is that “witness protection, pack up and move across country, then change your name” stalking.
“I'd be content to just sit here, and talk to you. In my dreams, you love me… and me only.”
These types of dreams end in blood.
I check chicks’ iPods for shit like this. If I see one of these tracks, I’m out the door.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Off top: I’ve never dated a big girl, mainly because I like the option of fucking with the lights on, and I suffer from a phobia of being crushed by a fat woman in my sleep. The medical name for it is “Bitch-Get-Your-Fat-Ass-Off-Me-A-Phobia”, and until a cure is found, I’ll never be able to date the Jill Scott-ish woman of my dreams. There will be no frolicking in fields of bacon for Jean DeGrate. But, enough about me and on with the blog…
If there was ever a group of people that made a serious effort at compensating for their physical shortcomings, it’s fat women who date non-fat men. The term “pleasantly plump” was coined by a skinny dude that exclusively dated big bitches.
There’re 3 types of fat women out here…
1. The “I just had a baby” fat chick. (And by “just”, they mean anywhere from 3 months to 10 years ago.) These chicks don’t really consider themselves fat chicks because “it’s just baby weight.” Nope, it doesn’t matter if the kid is going to college next year. In my world, 9 months post-birth is long enough to lose baby fat. Logically so, since it took nine months to put the weight on in the first place. To these women, that logic doesn’t apply; they will use “baby weight” as an excuse forever, and because they don’t really believe they are fat, they don’t give up true fat chick services.
2.The “after high school/freshman 15/got a desk job and packed on some pounds” fat chick. This chick here used to be fine or somewhat desirable prior to the weight gain. Although she went from a size 2 to a size 14, over the last few years, when she looks at herself in the mirror, she still sees the body she had as a senior in high school. In her mind, she is just as fine as she ever was. It would take the ghost of Christmas past to reveal the truth to her. For that reason alone, she will continue to eat honey buns from the work snack machine everyday, and when she gets home, there will be no fat chick services provided to her man. This is the bitch that will sit on the couch eating a microwavable dinner, watching Real Housewives, while her boyfriend caters to his damn self.
3. The “I’ve been big all my life so people call me Precious behind my back” fat chick. She’s the genuine article. She doesn’t have the ego of those previous two bitches because there’s no delusion of who she is. She knows she’s a fat bitch. She shops at Lane Byant, instead of trying out Forever 21’s plus line for size. She skips breakfast to cut calories; like it makes any fucking difference. Very few fat bitches have that Monique type-of self esteem; deep down, most fat chicks are so ashamed. It sounds horrible, but if you’re her boyfriend, this lack of self-esteem is the come-up for you (Winning). This is the big girl of your overweight lover dreams, and here’s why…
She’ll cater to you
Remember that Destiny’s Child song “Cater to you”, and all the dope shit they were talking about doing for their man? Of course you do, but know this: unless you’re balling out of control (and tricking/simping), you will never get a chick that isn’t at high risk for heart attack or diabetes and has a healthy BMI index to do any of that shit on a regular basis. These big girls will work a full time job, help the kids with homework, and still bring you dinner with a beer to the couch, while you watch Monday Night Football. She’ll cook anything your heart requests; just don’t request a side salad. She draws the line at salad, but steak, meatloaf, pork chops, and macaroni and cheese can be on the table every night if you please. She’ll clean with no complaints because that’s what it takes to keep her man happy. She’ll even come and bathe you “Coming to American” style, if that’s what you’re into.
She’ll take care of you…
Like she will literally take care of you in such a way that she might be legally able to claim you on her taxes. I know 3 dudes that retired from hustling because they started dealing with a big bitch that just wouldn’t let them leave. She’d go out of her way to make sure there was nothing in the outside world he could possibly want that he couldn’t get right at home. Cable, Xbox, HDTV, flat screens, alcohol, and all of his favorite foods were always on deck. She’ll pay cell phone bills and even buy him clothes; big bitches love to dress a nigga. If you were a Blac Label type-of nigga, she’ll upgrade you to LRG; no problem.
She is always down to fuck
She doesn’t need all that wining and dining to get her in the mood. Ya’ll could be watching Saturday morning cartoons; then you could turn and say, “Hey girl; come jump on this dick.” Before she can get the “ok” out, she’ll be giving you mouth. Rough sex… she loves it. Her body is built like an F-150; you could literally kidney punch her while hitting it from the back, and it will be all good. Kinky sex… she’s with that, too. She already knows she has to be down to do the shit the next girl (who is likely skinny and better-looking) won’t do. You can bust a nut in her ear canal, if that’s what you’re into.
Bored with busting nuts on your skinny bitch’s back and stomach? This cuffing season, a big bitch may be the way to go.
Sidenote: Jean DeGrate STILL doesn’t date big bitches.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
After I dropped that last blog, I’m sure a bunch of you are walking around with community pussy trying to explain your way out of it. I know you need clarification so here are the “Community Pussy Guidelines”
community pussy (noun) – a woman that has had sexual relations with two or more acquaintances…
As I wrote previously: being community pussy doesn’t necessarily make you a whore. Some of you are sluts; ain’t no way around it, but sometimes you’re just a victim of circumstance. Depending on how fragile a man’s ego is he may just see it as the mere chance that somebody he knows just got there first... kind of like buying a car from your next door neighbor. You still like the car, but it’s not as great as buying it new off the lot…if you catch my drift. Just know that a man’s ego is very delicate when it comes to recycled pussy being his actual girl. There are a few circumstances in which men just don’t give a fuck, but please don’t count on getting that community pussy courted anytime soon.
So let’s get into a few scenarios...
If you smashed the homie before they even knew each other…Yep, you’re still community.
If they got cool after you hit the second dude…Yep, you’re still community.If it was a one night stand when you were drunk in college… Yep, if they know each other, you’re still community.
Famous examples of community pussy
Gilbert Arenas’ baby’s mother Laura Govan
She can deny giving Shaq the pussy all she wants for the purposes of BBW LA, but we all know she fucked Shaq, who just so happens to be her baby father’s co-worker.
Nas’ first baby’s mother Carmen Bryan
She fucked Allen Iverson and Jay-Z. To make matters worse, her community pussy ended up on a diss track. You know why you haven’t heard about her since Jay-Z put her on blast… because now she’s pretty much un-bunnable by any celebrity.
Karrine “Superhead” Steffans
She’s pretty much fucked everybody. Just this week, she put it out there that she fucked Lil’ after the VMAs (yeah, leopard pants and all). She definitely is more of a straight up slut, but the community mileage on that pussy is undeniable. I would have an easier time naming people she hasn’t sleep with.
Now that lady has done some impressive numbers: Sean Penn, Guy Richie and Dennis Rodman (just to name a few).
I know for a fact Reggie Bush and Ray J have run into each other a time or two before. Kris Humphries gets to sit across the aisle from a man who gave his wife the daddy stroke on camera… that’s just got to hurt.
If this whole community pussy concept isn’t crystal clear to you by now, you’re just probably in denial. On the bright side, Kim Kardashian still got a ring so anything is possible… right?
Jean DeGrate has elaborated… sorta… I guess
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
It’s a little known fact that the older you get the smaller your dating pool becomes, and it doesn’t matter if you’re dating or not. With the assistance of social sites, rolling ass bitches, and alcohol, most people live within 50 miles of their birthplace, and people tend to date the same type of person over and over again. The chances of you finding uncharted territory gets slimmer and slimmer as years go by… which brings me to the actual topic of the blog: “Community Pussy”.
community pussy (noun) – a woman that has had sexual relations with two or more acquaintances… i.e. Melanie previously had sex with Walter who just so happens to play on a flag football team with Greg, the guy who she’s currently fucking.
Community Pussy VS Community Penis
Of course, community penis exists. But, they’re always some sort of double standard in dating, and like with almost every other double standard, this time, men again come out on top. I’ve personally fucked 2 thirds of a female’s crew. I could show you pictures on FaceBook right now with 2 and 3 chicks I hit posing in the same picture, smiling, with 20 comments about how they are the best of friends under the picture. They have more in common than they’d like to think for sure. I often want to comment, “Your BFF rides dick better than you,” but (even being the asshole that I am) that’s just wrong. The thing is, since I’ll never spill the beans and all of their other so-called friends aren’t trying to start “drama”, my community penis goes unnoticed. So much so that in years to come, there are great chances that I will hit a couple more chicks from that same group. Hell, I’m Jean DeGrate… I might even fuck a sister or two. That aside… the point being this is all possible due to women doing that 007 secret undercover fucking. Women don’t tell anybody who they’re fucking, not even Jesus. If he ain’t her man, on the verge of being her man, or tricking off something serious, that nigga won’t even have a name; he’ll simply be referred to as her “my friend”. The lack of communication among females makes it so easy for community penis to fly under the radar.
We know who you’re fucking
Men, unlike women, aren’t hiding who we’re fucking unless we’re just ashamed of her, but please believe even if she’s an “ain’t shit bitch” but her mouf is on 1000, she’ll eventually creep up in conversation. Groups of men talk about 3 things: sports, music and women. There isn’t but so much arguing niggas can do about why “Watch the Throne” is just ok and the Cowboys/Redskins rivalry. Next topic: you and the mileage on your pussy. You remember those naked pictures you were sexting to him on those late nights that you wanted him to come over? There’s a 90% chance at least one homie has seen those. If it was sent to the homie via text or email, there’re at least 30, and up to 1000, strangers that know what you look like naked and who you’re fucking. “Damn, she’s phat as fuck. Who’s that homie?” “This joint named Shanae, my man Kev from up top fucking.”
Why it’s a big deal
First, let me disclaim that being community pussy doesn’t necessarily make you a whore. While some of you (ok… most of you) are just straight up sluts, some of you are just victims of circumstance. The chances of a nigga being the first to dive into you greatly diminish after 10th grade, but we still like to believe we are getting some exclusive shit at least for relationship purposes. It’s a pride thing, and if you didn’t already know pride is a huge thing amongst the male sex. Finding out somebody we know hit you is a mean ego blow, and it doesn’t matter if it was last year or last decade. Let it be anything short of a serious relationship, like playing sideline chick or one night stand, you’ll probably never hear from us again. The only thing worse than your chick getting hit by the homie is your chick getting slutted out by the homie.
Just remember, “Danger, she smashed the homie” will be your new ringtone.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Monday, September 12, 2011
Off top let me just say women ARE NOT better cheaters than men… blog over.
Ok, the blog isn’t over, but women aren’t better cheaters. Their success is just based on certain circumstances that simply fall in their favor.
A man cheating is a common occurrence
Do you remember the media blitz Tiger Woods got for giving the backstroke to those sideline Barbie-looking bitches? How about every Tyler Perry movie ever made featuring some dude fucking around? You want to know why the media blows this shit out of proportion? The answer is simple: men are known to get pussy on the side. If you have female friends then you know every female has been cheated on at least once. If you’re a female and you feel like you haven’t, you’re a damn fool. Men cheating is often the topic of conversation over Panera bread lunches and girls-day-out shopping trips. Men being dogs is widespread knowledge, and even if you aren’t a dog, the label is still attached to you. This is an advantage to women because out the gate, they already think you’re cheating… all they need is confirmation. And, they will do whatever they can to find out, which brings me to my second point.
Women are suspicious by nature
… And by suspicious I mean “distrustful and just plain old fucking nosey”. If your girlfriend isn’t checking your cell phone and attempting to hack your FaceBook account, you don’t have a girlfriend. When you went to the bathroom to piss and left your phone sitting on the couch, trust and believe she read six pages of text messages before you flushed the toilet. Then, she put your phone back on the exact same screen, in the exact same place, in the exact same facedown position before you finished washing your hands. When you got back to continue movie night, she was making mental notes of every Bitch’s name she saw that she didn’t know or particularly like. Sunday is ya’ll’s movie night so expect a random “Who’s Kim?” as you’re driving to dinner Thursday night. God forbid you really had some dirt in your phone (or at least what seemed like dirt according to crazy woman standards) you can fully expect, “Who the FUCK is this new Bitch Kim that texted you ‘where have you been lately?’” to pop off immediately. All the while, you just keep repeating, “But, why you looking thru my phone thou?” Kim could be any damn body: your friend, homie from back in the day, or the Asian nigga you ball with on Saturday mornings, but in your girlfriend’s mind, you are cheating with Kim. Besides just normal phone slip-ups, they notice your off behavior and will not to hesitate to investigate the cause of it. If you normally double lock your door, but today you chose the bottom lock only, she noticed, and she’s wants to know why. If you always play rap in the car, but this morning when she turned on the radio smooth jazz came on, she’s hip, and assumptions are building by the second. If you sneeze 4 times in row, something is going on. Apparently, that sideline bitch gave you a cold, and she needs to know how. This is an advantage to women because eventually she will catch you slipping.
Pride won’t allow men to be distrustful
It doesn’t matter how many times a man has given another man’s girlfriend that outside dick, he’ll refuse to believe that his girl could cheat on him. A dude could have been playing outside dick for a chick, wait for the breakup, then seriously date that same cheating bitch, but would bet his life she wouldn’t cheat on him. He’ll come up with all types of excuses as to why she cheated on the other dude just to sooth his ego. “He wasn’t laying that pipe right.” “She really wanted to leave him, but she wasn’t trying to break the lease.” “His mother had just died, and she couldn’t leave him when he was already down.” But, the thought of her being an “ain’t shit” cheating ass bitch never crosses his mind. Outside of an empty condom wrapper falling out of her purse or a homie sending him camera phone pictures of her walking hand in hand with some other nigga in the park, she can do no wrong. This is an advantage to women because they can almost get away with anything, and he won’t scrutinize it because his just knows his backstrokes are all she needs.
We are afraid of looking like a bitch
If a man does all that snooping shit women do, he automatically looks like a bitch ass nigga. You checking to see what she wrote on some niggas wall of FaceBook… yep, bitch move. You were reading her Twitter direct messages over her shoulder… yep, bitch move. You looking thru her phone while she cooks dinner… yep, that’s a bitch move too. A dude’s named could be stored in your woman’s phone as “Big Dick Larry”, and the moment you dial that number or send him a text from her phone to see what it do, a team of your homies will bust threw your window and revoke your man card on the spot. And, even if your homies don’t revoke your card, your girl will pull the old, “you must be cheating your damn self if you’re so insecure about Big Dick Larry texting me all day.” This is an advantage to women because unless the circumstances are dire, no “real” man will check up on his girl. And if you are that guy, pull your skirt down B.
Women are sneaky
All that 007 spy shit women do to check on men, they reuse those same skills when it comes to successfully acquiring and executing sexual relations with outside dick. I got a chick right now that I’m not even fucking, but she only speaks to me during her work hours because she doesn’t want her man to know. Can you imagine how much she’d go thru to cover her tracks if we were fucking? Women create back stories for men they ain’t even fucked yet so if you do end up getting the pussy and her man runs across you, she can plug you into that lie. “Baby, this is Jermaine he was the only male cheerleader at my high school. Remember when I told you he used to tutor me in French, and we stay in contact via FaceBook? Well, I ran into him at Starbucks this morning and decided to hook up for lunch. But, what you doing down here?” Cheating bitches always make their other nigga seem soft or possibly gay so their boyfriend won’t feel threatened. I mean really, what man could ever be threatened by a male cheerleader? The level of smoothness ya’ll hoes exhibit is down right brilliant, and definitely an advantage, which brings me to my final point…
Yeah, on second thought, women are better cheaters.
Jean DeGrate is watching you hoes
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I’d like to give a big shout out to Rozonda “Chilli” Thomas for opening my eyes to just how delusional some women really are. I watched about 3.5 episodes of “What Chilli Wants” because I thought she was fine. I had mean crush on Chilli when I was younger; so much so that I once owned all of the TLC CDs. I wasn’t even slightly interested in why a beautiful has-been R&B singer with only one kid and cash of her own couldn’t find a good man. In my mind, that entire season should have been able to be summed up in 60 minutes. I mean she’s fine, somewhat famous, and openly looking for a man. Shit, niggas should have been lined up around the block… That’s what I thought before I realized that bitch was crazy. Her standards were off the fucking chart even for a chick that is as desirable as she is. Since then, I’ve been paying close attention to what women want out of men.
You’re not as special as you’d like to think you are…
Let’s use me for starters… As charismatic, clever, funny, good looking, and cool as I’d like to think I am, I’m not really doing shit extraordinary. Real talk, last week a roller told me I’m not relationship material with a straight face. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but that’s the realest shit she could have said. And, while her pussy has more mileage on than a fleet of taxicabs, she still has the right to decide whether or not I’m “relationship material”. All the things that make you think you’re the shit might not really matter to the guys you want to be interested in you. (Please see “We Really Don’t Care about That Shit” for further elaboration. HYPERLINK "http://jeandegrate.blogspot.com/2011/07/we-really-don-care-about-that-shit.html)" http://jeandegrate.blogspot.com/2011/07/we-really-don-care-about-that-shit.html))
You’re a great mother…
You know who really gives a fuck about you being a great mother? (1) Your kids and (2) yeah… that pretty much sums up that list. If your baby daddy is really about his issue, how great of a mother you are doesn’t excite him either. After all, he is the one that busted the nut in you so he probably was already aware of your motherly capabilities from the start. Believe it or not, not having kids is a bragging point (even if you are an outstanding mom). Mommy and kids come together like a combo deal so it’s always better not to have them. Your kid can be the cutest, smartest baby in the world, but most men are going to view him or her as cute, smart BAGGAGE. Your new dude wants to catch a movie then dinner and drinks, but instead, he’s standing in your living room playing Power Rangers with Jr. because your babysitter fell thru. Get the fuck out of here. I know it’s not your fault that you can’t find a sitter because you’re a single mother, and nobody is helping you. But you let your deadbeat baby daddy bust a nut in you, and that my dear is your fault. Your kids might be the best thing that ever happened to you, but the worst thing to happen to any up and coming relationship. Lower your standards, and you might get a dude with some understanding to your situation.
You think you’re the shit
Ugly women, pretty women, fat women, skinny women and every 3rd woman in-between thinks she’s the shit. Confidence is at an all time high, and with all that confidence normally comes with a large side order of shitty attitude. For every girl out here that’s ACTUALLY the shit, there’re 200 subpar bitches that think they are the shit, and 400 dudes tired of fucking with them “I think I’m the shit bitches”. The only thing worse than a nice looking girl with an “I’m the shit” attitude is a busted bitch with the same disposition. Leave that shit at the door; we don’t need you to remind us of how great you think you are.
You’re a bill
Women cost money, and it doesn’t matter how much tricking a dude says he doesn’t do. Even if you avoid dating, courting, all the other bullshit, and jump straight to fucking, you still have to pay for the condom. Yeah, I know you’re worth all these fancy nights out on the town… right? But, are you really? Think of the situation reversed: would you take a new dude (not your boyfriend or even someone you’ve cracked) out for a night on the town simply because you enjoyed his company? If you said, “yes,” you’re full of shit… know that. What makes your conversation/company so much better than the chick that’s down to kick it in the house, eat carry-out, and hit up Red Box? Way less than you actually think; plus, the chances of fucking after a movie at the crib are far greater than after being out on the town. No matter how much paper a nigga has, we all count our coins when it comes to the “pussy bill”. I might easily have on a $1500 outfit on a random Wednesday, but I can’t remember the last random Wednesday I frolicked around town spending endless bread on Ms. New Booty. So, checking for that “wine and dine every weekend” type-of nigga because you think you deserve that might just have you waiting at home alone for while.
Single by choice
I only know of ONE girl who is really “single by choice”. She’s single because she’s in school studying for her PhD and doesn’t believe she’d make a good girlfriend, but please believe she has dudes waiting for that window of opportunity. Chances are if you’re “single by choice”, you can’t find the man you think you deserve. That’s right up there with being unemployed because you’re too good to work at Target. Keeping that logic will eventually have you dyking it up or becoming a cat lady. The choice is yours. Your standards are too high for your own good. It’s really simple; if you only attract “ain’t shit niggas” or niggas that aren’t interested in becoming serious then either you ain’t shit or you ain’t shit to be taken seriously. Think of the male you: if that nigga is one month away from eviction, changes jobs more often than the seasons, makes less than 50k a year, has two or more kids, stays with some sort of drama, and lives at the bar/club, you know you wouldn’t want to date that guy. So why on God’s green earth would a guy better off than that want to date you? Because you think you’re cute and fun to be around? Yea, that ain’t going to cut it.
Turn that ego down some, and face reality.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
“If you treat a Bitch like a Queen, she’ll probably treat you like a fool” – Jean DeGrate (2011)
Although the stock market is down and the economy is struggling like a one- legged man at a kickball tournament, the value of vagina is skyrocketing. If I could roll my 401k into a couple of down-ass-Bitches, I’d be able to retire by next summer. Simping and tricking are at an all-time high, thus leading to a surge on undeserved confidence amongst subpar women.
It grinds my gears to a level that I can’t even put into words when I hear a woman talk about the things she “deserves”. I’m a firm believer that you deserve the things you work for. For example, I’ve been playing the lotto bi-weekly for the last 3 years, but I don’t believe I “deserve” to hit the Power Ball because I play faithfully. I didn’t earn those millions, even if I set aside 10 dollars a week to buy a handful of tickets. Now, these Rock & Republic jeans hanging off my ass, I’m sure I “deserve” these. I sat my ass at work, earned the money, and bought these. I just finished seven 12 hour shifts back-to-back; Lord only knows what I’m going to buy with that check (prolly a small farm just for the hell or it), but nevertheless, whatever I buy… I “deserve” that shit. Now, when a chick that dropped out of hair school or Phoenix Online University and currently works as a cashier at Target says she “deserves” the finer things, I always feel the strong urge to say, “No Bitch, you ‘deserve’ to die.” The sad thing about it is, it’s not even her fault that she feels that way.
I blame you Simps
You ever drive past a dude washing and waxing a 93 Ford Escort? He’s cleaning the rims, putting Armorall on the tires, and even wiping the car dry so there won’t be any water spot residue left on the paint. His car damn sure isn’t a classic. If he tried to trade it in, the dealership would probably give him 50 bucks just to get it off the lot. He treats it like a Benz even if the bluebook value wouldn’t go half on a Benz rim. Simps apply this same sort of treatment to their women. Dear Simps, you’re fucking it up for the next guy; know this. You pamper these women who wouldn’t normally be exposed to that sort of treatment because the men in their league don’t behave in such a manner. You don’t buy Keisha from 3rd street Don Perignon Rosé when she’s used to drinking 4 Loko’s and Sutter Home Moscato. I don’t care if it’s her birthday; buy her 3 bottles of that d’asti Moscato. It will hold her over; I’m sure (because bitches love sparkling Moscato). You don’t take her to Morton’s. Nope not even during restaurant week. She’s been eating at restaurants with pictures on the menus and paper napkins all her life. If you feel like doing it big, let her add an extra side of shrimp.
Treating it a 4 like an 8
When you came along working your Simp magic, she forgot about the dudes before you: the dude that had her sneaking popcorn and sour patch kids into the movies because he wasn’t paying for movie tickets and snacks, and the dude that wouldn’t drive into the city to pick her up from work but would gladly meet her at the train station closest to his house. She was perfectly cool with those guys, and their actions were expectable, until you came along upping the ante. What you Simps never realize is that one day when your relationship (or whatever) falls off, she becomes the next man’s problem. It takes about 3 or 4 dudes to leave her on stuck before the reality finally catches up again. And even then, the little bit of confidence you gave her tends to shine through ever-so-slightly. Ain’t nothing like a mediocre bitch from Southeast, who a Simp took on vacation to Miami, coming back in town with Lamborghini dreams and beach house wishes.
JD won’t upgrade you
Before I come out the pocket for a meal or even a drink at the bar, I already need to know how you’re living. If she has been at the bar for the last two hours tossing back rail Long Island iced teas, I already know when she comes thru the crib, I need to have that Svedka on chill. If she’s a Forever 21 and Bakers shopper, I won’t even talk Louie and Gucci… wouldn’t want to give her any ideas. If her favorite restaurant is Friday’s, I’ll Jack Daniel’s wing her ass to death. She likes red Kool-Aid and Top Ramen? Shit, no problem; I’ll buy her a case of both. I’m not here to show her the finer things in life; she’s supposed to do that for her-damn-self. I’m here to offer some companionship, crack a few jokes, show her a good time, and toss in the occasional deep stroke. I won’t be doing anything for Ms. New Booty that she isn’t fully capable of and willing to do for herself. Know this.
Treating 8’s like 7’s since Benjamin’s had small faces.
Jean DeGrate has spoken
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Although I don’t personally pay for sex, I’m damn sure not against the next man paying for a shot of ass (straight out that is). I barely have to call a bitch to get the cheeks, but that’s another blog altogether. If you’re one of those niggas that might “buy” pussy, buying it straight out is a sound investment if that’s all you’re really interested in. I don’t even know why prostitution is illegal. Like really… why is it illegal to sell something that is perfectly legal to give away?
It’s so easy to get free pussy… why would anyone pay for it
Unfortunately, women don’t walk around with signs on their backs stating, “Down to fuck.” It just doesn’t happen that way. She might be extra flirtatious, dressed as a slut, already have 3 kids and 3 baby daddies, and still won’t come off them cheeks. There’re no guarantees with these slutty women; she might have been down to suck and fuck the whole crew yesterday, but today she isn’t feeling as slutty.
Most women are selling pussy on the sly anyway
Every time you hear a woman say she wants a man to provide for her; she’s selling that pussy on the sly. Every time a dude takes a chick out of town in order to get those cheeks; she’s selling that pussy on the sly. She got a dude paying for her cable, cell phone, and car note knowing damn well if that nigga stops, they are done; she’s selling that pussy on the sly. If she goes to a dude for money to get her hair done and nails done; she’s selling that pussy on the sly. If a nigga only gets those cheeks after taking her shopping; she’s selling that pussy on the sly. Do you know how much money you would save if you just paid for it straight out instead of letting these chicks fool themselves into believing they ain’t hoes?
Dating is shaky
How many times have you had a first date that didn’t lead to anything? No goodnight kiss. No phone calls the day after. You can pretend like you took her to Red Lobster (cause bitches love chedder biscuits) to get to know her, but really you know you wanted those cheeks at the end of the night. You’re just 75 bucks plus poorer, and now you have a number to delete from your cell phone. How many times have you had two or three dates with a chick that went the same way? Now let’s go smaller. How many times have you bought a chick a drink in the club not even to get a phone number exchange or a dance? Do you know what you could have done with all that money? You could have bought some pussy.
It’s a sure thing
When dealing with a hoe, a streetwalker, an escort, or a loose bitch better known as a “prostitute”, you can guarantee some fucking is going down. You won’t have to get her in the mood because her pussy gets wet the moment you hand her that cash. You don’t have to hint toward her giving you head; she’s down for the blow, but please note that it might cost you extra. And, best of all, when the deed is done, there is no awkward moment. You just get up and roll out. No cuddling, no feeding, no cover sharing, no dates, no long pauses in conversation, and no arguments. It’s just sex, and if that’s all you’re looking for then you’re definitely going to get just that.
The hard math
Women cost money. There’s no way around spending it. If you got some cash, they definitely want you to spend some. So if you’re only after sex why buy into all the other dumb shit? Unless, of course, you’re in public office or considering running for one, then you might want to continue to fake these relationships, and foot the bill that comes with it. Add together dates, the dumb shit she’ll eventually ask for, switching to an unlimited text plan so you can send her “good morning” texts and random smiley faces, food, and transportation… then substract from that the cost of just buying pussy straight out. Not to mention all the money you spent on clothes for the club/bar to meet bitches. You’ll realize you couldn’t have saved more money even if you switched to Geico.
I’m not saying paid for pussy is better, wetter, or tighter… I’m just saying, it’s definitely more cost effective.
Jean DeGrate won’t be judging you
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
I’m a great guy… Well, I have my moments… Ok ok; my mother thinks I’m a great guy. Thanks ma. I’m a realist; so I’m well aware of my flaws or at least whatever members of the opposite sex may consider flaws. So here it is ladies: The Top 10 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Date Me. Yes, I’ve specifically termed this list “Top” 10 because I know there are far more reasons, but we’ll save reasons 11-100 for future blogs.
1. I don’t trust anybody
Let me take that back; I trust people to do things that will best suit them. Meaning if my happiness or wellbeing is standing in the way of something you want, I fully expect you to fuck me over. I’m not blatantly saying you’ll cheat nor am I say you won’t, but you’ll probably tell a lie or two here or there. Let’s be honest; even the most standup chicks have a slight bit of bullshit with them. That bullshit is exactly why it will take quite some time for me to actually view you differently than any other aint-shit-bitch… if ever.
2. I don’t trick
If you’re looking for the guy that’s paying for hair do’s, manicures, pedicures, cable bills, and shopping sprees, keep on looking; I’m not that guy. You want to go out to eat. I got that. You want to go to the movies. I got that too. I might buy you a random on-clearance shirt as we walk through the mall (well most likely not it still sound good though), but that’s about as far as tricking goes for me. You want to go island hoping in the tropics. I won’t be a part of that, but be sure to tag me in the photos on FaceBook. I’d love to see the Simp financing that excursion.
3. I’m an asshole and proud of it
Look here: I blogged this topic weeks ago so I won’t even get into details here. Unless this is your first time reading, “Jean DeGrate has spoken”, you already know… I’m a prick, and I’m proud of that shit.
4. I’m fucking conceded
True story: a semi-attractive woman (semi-attractive = fuckable) once walked up on me while I was standing in front of the club and said, “You’re kinda lovely.” I replied, “It’s the light.” Why? You may ask. I already know I’m fine, not because my mother kept telling me I was handsome as a kid, but because as a teenager my mother’s co-workers used to try to slide me the pussy. For that reason and several more similar to it, I don’t take compliments well. So in the morning when you roll over and say, “Damn baby, you’re fine” trying to be sweet, you won’t catch me blushing. I’m just that fucking conceded.
5. I used to be hoe
There’s still a tiny bit of hoe in me, but not as much as it used to be. I still have hoe flare ups, but I’m taking medication for that. Unfortunately though, there is no cure. This leads me into number 6…
6. If you’re from the DC area, you probably know somebody I’ve fucked
… and by “know somebody” I mean “are friends with.” Thanks to FaceBook, folks that would normally be strangers are now dot.com best friends and shit. I’ve seen 2 and 3 chicks, I’ve had my penis in at one time or another all tagged in the same pictures, smiling and shit. Not to mention, the chances of us being out on the town and running into a chick that I’ve seen naked are great. Shit, during any given week, I’m bound to run into a couple of my old jump offs on the train, liquor store, the mall or just loafing around U Street. Just note that you will have to get used to, “Oh my god; Hey Jean,” being screamed across the movie theatre… and then that same chick texting me, “What are you doing when you leave here?” minutes later.
7. I wear a wedding band all the time
Funny thing about it is I’m not married nor have I even been close to being married. Shit, I don’t even see Mrs. JD in the near future. Regardless of how close we are, you can be Miss New Pussy or my girl, when we’re out on the town, prying eyes will assume you’re a home wrecker.
8. I’ll keep fucking you long after I realize we have no future
I still give the daddy stroke to girls I booked in 98. If you ask me, “What are we doing here?” I’ll probably respond, “We ain’t going steady. We’re just cooling.” I’m a huge fan of boomerang pussy… fuck em a few times… let em get back to the world… and let them come back to get fucked again.
9. I’m kind of boring
Yes, I’m an excellent conversationalist, if I shall say so myself, but that’s about where the buck stops. I will dinner and movie your ass to death. I may even toss in a game of pool at the strip club here and there, but other than that, I’m really anti-everything. Trying to get me to do new shit is like pulling teeth out of a tiger’s mouth with a wire hanger. I’ve never done that personally, but it sounds difficult as fuck.
10. I don’t give head
I actually wrote a blog about my non-willingness to put vagina in my mouth. I even gave me top 5 reasons… look it up. For those who already read it here’s my 6th reason… I have high blood pressure. I can’t gamble with the sodium. Word on the street says pussy is mad salty son.
Thanks to this blog I’ve probably cut my new pussy chances in half
Jean DeGrate ain’t shit