The 4 Guys Most Likely To Smash Your Girl During A Break

We're comfortably into Cuffing Season and hopefully if you’re reading this you’ve won the Thanksgiving championship game and you’re lining up Christmas, New Year’s and snowed in plans. Hip. Hip. Hooray and shit. Ok before I get into this there will be no male counterpart to this blog because the woman most likely to smash your man on a break is a woman that has a functioning vagina. But seriously, the criteria is really thin; half way decent looking and willing to have sex.

Break sex is just as real with women as it is with men but women don’t pop up with break babies like Dwayne Wade and Mandeecee (Yandy hold your head son even though those bundles look mad heavy). Unlike us men folk; there’s always a person literally in earshot waiting to be called off the bench for the break sex opportunity with YOUR girl. So without further ado here are the guys most likely to fuck your girl…

1. The dick in the glass

There’s always a dick in the glass dude lurking. He might be some old work from not too long ago. He might be dude who was in the running for the pussy before you took her off the market. He might be some dude she randomly flirts with at the gym/the Starbucks/the train station and she already has his info stored in her phone under “Janet from accounting”. He’s out there and well in reach. All it takes is a solid blow up and 24 hours of non-communication and his phone is going to ring because in her mind you’re already fucking “some other bitch” (her words not mine).

2. The work husband

Little do you know the work husband is always 3 shots of patron at a random after work happy hour away from fucking your girl with or without a break. The truth is her work a husband is going to get way more quality time in than you ever will. Five days a week for 8 hours a day he’s catering, listening and waiting for his window of opportunity.

3. The baby daddy

Some women detest loathe and hate (and yes I know all 3 words are synonyms for one another but I needed you to feel me) the father of their child or children, and more times than not, it has absolutely nothing to do with his parenting ability or being a provider for the kids. We aren’t talking about those women right now. Now for the baby daddies that range from slight disfavor all the way up to “seriously why we not together” are always prime targets for easy break sex. It’s clutch because they can fuck and then go back to talking about who’s turn it is to sell fundraiser shit at their job. The baby daddy is easily the most dangerous one on the list because after he smashes shit won’t get weird and won’t leave a trace (he’s also probably going to hit it raw).

4. The funny local guy on social media

I know what you’re thinking. I know and I’m sorry because I’m sure one of you reading this I’ve fucked your girl. We’re not going to focus on that right now (or ever)… FOCUS on the message at hand… OK? Good. Let’s go. She’s always lightweight stalking some at least decent looking and funny guy on social media. She might do some coy flirting causing him to shoot his shot, be direct and slide in the DM’s or use Issa’s (Insecure) move and conveniently show up some place she knows he’s going to be. She has already filled in the gaps in her head of what he’s like in real life and all he has to do is half way live up to her made up expectations and it’s on.

It’s the truth and I would tell you to ask your girl but that would be indirectly promoting domestic violence. Ask the female homie for an honest answer but either way be on your best behavior and avoid breaks because that outside dick is waiting.

Jean DeGrate has spoken.

Guide to touring the National Museum of African American History and Culture…

1st the only thing blacker than the Luke Cage series on Netflix is the NMAAHC.

2nd the museum is what you make of it. I personally enjoyed it but this won’t be a review so if you’re looking for JD’s opinion hit me on my phone or hit me in the DM’s.

On social media I see a lot of pictures and talk about the quality of the museum but not much info on how to approach this epically huge space; wear comfortable shoes and your fitbit. Yes this place is big as fuck and it doesn’t exactly flow in a walk thru fashion. It’s not a maze but it’s not a walk around the park either.

Okay step one…
If you don’t have at least 3 hours to blow don’t even show up; just give your tickets away to somebody else. As I mentioned above the space if huge and it’s a lot to see. Plus the line to get in the building is at least 15 minutes. You’re not going to see everything no matter what but if you don’t have a lot of time to thoroughly explore the sections that you do see it’s not even worth the trip.

Step two…
Go in a small group. Like 4 people tops. There are a lot of dead ends and the sheer volume of people in venue make it harder to navigate because it there’s no clear path to map out. There are so many things that can draw you in different directions you can easily get split up. You don’t waste of your precious time sending “WYA” text messages to your friends because no matter what they say you won’t know where the fuck they are and you’re not the only to think of  the “waving your cell phone in the air so I can see you” maneuver; every 6th person was doing that. Literally.

Step three…
Uber. Seriously. Uber. It was almost impossible prior to this museum to find parking on the mall so now it will take an act of God to find parking.

Step four…
Leave your jacket in the car or be prepared to carry it. They say black people attract heat and in this museum the theory is tested and proven. Normally museums are pretty fucking brisk but not in here because it’s packed. Like the Apple store on the iPhone release day packed. Wear deodorant.

Step five…
Go to the basement level first. This is the only exhibit with a semblance of a chronological flow and it’s probably the most time consuming portion of the entire museum. If you’ve been to the Holocaust museum this exhibit is set up very similar but instead of 12 years plus the intro to Adolf being a fuck boy they’re covering in the neighborhood of 450 plus years.

Step six…
Skip the second floor completely. Like fuck that shit all together. If you’re looking for a place to rest your feet for a second then the second floor is definitely the place to go. They have chairs and shit.

Step seven…
After the basement the next stop if the 4th floor. That’s pretty much everything about black culture, music, art, food, fashion; almost everything except sports and war.

Step eight…
Enjoy yourself because if Trump becomes president this spot might not be open for business come Saturday, January 21st 2017.

Doing it for the motherfucking culture.
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Prenups are for Poor People

And by poor people I mean you and me of course; basically regular people. I’m 100% sure the likes of Kanye and Kim Kardashian aren’t reading my blog post but if they are I need the Pirate Black Yeezy 350’s in a size 10. Thanks.

By definition a prenuptial agreement is a contract entered into prior to marriage that can widely vary on terms and conditions, but for most of us; we simply see it as way to protect our shit. Shit – assets, earnings and intellectual properties acquired prior to, during and after the marriage. I’m pretty sure this is an exact Johnnie Cochran quote.

Rich people
Remember when it was all over the net that Nas was kicking up 40k a month to Kelis in child and spousal support? Or remember even more recently when it was reported that Derek Fisher was going to pay 1.3 mil in spousal support plus 180k in child support to his ex-wife Candace and we were all like “What the fuck?” I remember and it had me thinking Gloria Govan’s pussy must truly be something the lord has made. Ok back on topic… The thing is this; most of us won’t even make 1 mil in 10 years, so thinking about giving that much away every year is unfathomable. I’m pretty sure Jay-Z and Beyoncé have a prenup that will ensure that when it’s all said and done they can still get a new Maybach every year and neither of them will have to move into a smaller mansion. (Side note – Jay and Bey were the epiphany of Black Love right up until Lemonade dropped. Just let that simmer for a second as you continue to read.)  Let’s be honest even if you’re married in a Kobe/Vanessa Bryant situation then you have to give up half of 300 mil you still have 150 mil and you’re still rich as fuck.

“You ain’t got shit”
Well you don’t have shit and half of nothing is still nothing. Right? No, it’s wrong, dead ass wrong. Half of your pension and/or 401k is very much something especially if you can no longer afford to retire and you have to get a job at Target after 30 years with a good government job. Half of your 2 bedroom condo is definitely something especially if you can’t afford to buy your ex out so you have to sell your shit to pay them off. Half of your 2007 E-Class Benz might only be 8k but do you have 8k to just give away. I’m assuming you don’t since you don’t have shit and having shit would mean you’d have all this deposable cash setting around to pay off your former spouse.

Us poor people
The prenup actually protects the little bit of shit you do have along with the shit you will possibly attain during and after the relationship ends. Us non-one percenters need that layer of protection that’s stopping us from moving into our brother’s house with his wife and 2 kids after the love gone. You’re 75k a year is enough to keep you leasing a new 5 series BMW every 3 years, a week in Miami every summer, a boy’s weekend in Vegas when the mood strikes and a few pairs of Gucci shoes. You’re able to do all this dope shit and still keep the lights on. Life is good and you’re comfortable but you’re so far off from being rich. Now just imagine forking over 15k a year in spousal support for the foreseeable future on top of draining out your saving to make good on the divorce settlement. Things are going to get a lot less comfortable.

“But I planned to be married forever”
First plans change, especially when it involves 2 grown ass capable and able minded people, and second forever is a mighty long time. These aren’t the marriages of our parents and grandparents where they really stuck it out through thick and thin. You got 2 uncles and an aunt with “good hair” that aren’t granny’s kids and aren’t present in any of the family photos on the fireplace. The current divorce rate is about 50% but would you bet half of your “everything” on the flip of coin? I mean that’s 50/50 too. Of course you wouldn’t that would be crazy. Your marriage would be more stable. You’re a good judge of character. You’re only going to pick your soulmate to jump the broom with. All those people in failed marriages got married for the wrong reasons or to the wrong person. That’s right you know this is going to last forever. If you’re so sure of yourself and sure of your love wouldn’t the prenup just be a piece of paper. Think of it as car insurance because you never PLAN to get into an accident but just in case you do you wouldn’t want to be without.

Prenups because being 43 eating Top Ramen for dinner and living at home ain’t the wave
Jean DeGrate has spoken

The Great Away Game Debacle

I haven’t shared one of my Jean DeGrate tales in a good little while so I figured today is as good as a time as any especially since the end of cuffing season is right around the corner and I know a few of you will be breaking free of your relationship bonds to flourish in this warmer weather.

First off “Away game” is a term I came up with for going to the other person’s home to have sex. I’m sure I’ve spoken on a previous blog about this, but its pros and cons to this shit. (If you’re already in the know you can just skip the next 3 of 4 paragraphs because this is kind of a 2 for 1 blog.)

The pros include…

1. Avoiding that awkwardness of trying to get your hook-up to leave.
I’ve had to get fully dressed and stand at the foot of my bed whilst tapping her on the foot asking “So what you about to do?” Followed back leaving my own home only to circle back around to get undressed and get back into bed.

2. No CSI level search of your home for shit level behind by your hook-up.
I used to have a shoe box full of jewelry, bonnets and other miscellaneous shit women conveniently leave behind. How do you just abandon your shit after a night out? Do you have endless cell phone chargers? Are balling to the point that you just have throw away jewelry?

3. No pre or post sex clean-up.
I don’t have to kick that pile of laundry I’ve been avoiding doing for the last 6 days into the closet. I don’t have to wash that mountain of dishes in my sink and I can continue washing 1 dish at a time as needed. Most importantly I don’t have to clean up afterwards. No post sex washrags to handle and no changing of the bed sheets.

And these are just my top 3.

The cons are normally minor like bad ass kids running around and trying to play games on your phone or traveling to shitty neighborhood where you’ll spend half the night checking to see if the rims are still on your car. Yeah I know; small things to a giant but normally when shit goes left it really goes left and this is a tale of one of those occurrences.

As in any away game played on a field you’re unfamiliar with you can never know what to anticipate. Toss all expectations out of the window because how you envisioned a person maybe living by how they look and operate in the public world can be totally different behind closed doors. Please believe me. Anyway on with the story…

Single moms are the most likely to be down for the away game mainly because of child care issues. Let’s call her Kim because I haven’t used that fake name in a while and her name really begins with “K” so I won’t have to go back and delete her real name all throughout this blog. The after bedtime breeze thru is practically always clutch and this story starts off as clutch. After literally 3 outings over the span of 4 months of knowing each other, due to the aforementioned child care issues, I get the greenlight to swing pass. Normally I bail out on a chick after 2 failed planned dates but she was super cool and by “super cool” I mean her body was fucking crazy and I really needed to see her naked. Don’t judge me; I’m only human. After the already prepared “I don’t really let people come over because I don’t allow strange men around my kids” speech (it’s the speech 9 out of 10 baby mommas approve of) we set the date for the home visit.

Kim drove a 2006 or 2007 AMG E55 Benz and if you didn’t know 2 digit Benz’s are kind of a big deal. On the 4 occasions I saw her she carried a different high end designer bag and to top it off on our last outing she paid the tab. Not in that “”I got this” then you say “Nah I got this” and she quickly ends attempting to pay the bill” type of way. Nope, I went to the bathroom, came back to the table then motioned the waiter for the check and she said “I already handled the check”. I was floored; I might have even blushed so I thought “oh this chick is balling”. With all this knowledge I’m fully expecting her home to be laid the fuck out. Nope.

The home visit date was set for a Wednesday and work night home visits are the best because A. you don’t have to spend the night and B. it typically gets right to the point and by “the point” I mean sex. Unfortunately this just happened to be a day that I worked 14 hours and the only that got me thru the day was the idea of seeing Kim naked. Yeah, that was definitely the light at the end of my tunnel in a day that seemed to go on forever. I hate going into these arbitrary non-designed Maryland neighborhoods that require 14 lefts and 3 rights to park on some dimly lit street with no sidewalk or street signs and as fate would have it she lived in one of those exact neighborhoods in Fort Washington. After a 57 minute trip that GPS timed at 24 minutes I finally pull up to Kim’s home at 11:08pm.

JD - I think I’m outside. Its 7411 right? I don’t see your car but I think this is it. Is there a grey minivan parked out front?

Kim – You’re here. Just come around to the backdoor.

It’s a single family home 2 stories and it’s a pretty big house; way too much house for an adult with just 2 kids, so yeah fuck it I’m impressed. I start my trek thru the lawn using my cell phone as a flashlight and almost walk into a deer the size of a fucking horse (a small horse but still very much horse sized). I jump back slip and fall. Now I’m literally lying on my back looking up at a deer who isn’t even remotely fazed by my presence. He’s just standing there eating flowers and shit; looks over at me then gets right back to eating these flowers. Right then and there I should have said “Fuck this shit” and walked back to my car then took my ass home, but instead I gather myself, stand up, tell the deer excuse me and calmly walked around him. I’m at the back of the house looking up at the deck and under the deck it’s stairs leading to sliding glass door where Kim is standing in a bathrobe motioning me in. In hindsight a red light should have popped on in my head when I was entering through a backdoor basement entrance in the still of the night like I was dating a teenaged girl and she was sneaking me in for a quickie while her parents were asleep.

So here I am standing in an unfinished basement with a concrete floor, a couch, a handful of folding chair and a big back floor model TV clearly from the early 90’s. Still no red light going off in my head, even after she immediately left me alone for an entire 15 minutes in the dark in this dungeon /trap house chic basement. It wasn’t that bad in retrospect because I had just downloaded Street Fighter II on my Sidekick LX, the 15 minutes alone not visit. Kim finally comes back Pink Panther like tie toeing in bunny slippers and leads me by the hand to a den on the main level in the dark. The den is more like what I expected plush leather couch, 2 matching lazy boy chairs and a large flat screen but it was an autographed framed Troy Aikman jersey on the wall. A little bit of a red light went off let’s call it a yellow light but I was too focused on seeing what was under that bathrobe.

It’s about 11:45 I’m on my second glass of Hennessy Privilege, she’s still nursing her first and we’re watching reruns of Martin because colored people love reruns of Martin. If you never seen me I have very long dreds that come to bottom of my back and sometimes my hair rub me the wrong way that feels like a bug is crawling on me. That last sentence is very valid to what happened next. She starts playing in my hair then straddles me. Somehow a dred lands directly in my ear canal and I’m nonchalantly trying to brush it away from my ear. Ok it’s still in my ear and I’m starting to freak out just a little bit to the point that I’m gently shaking my head left to right in a Stevie Wonder fashion but still trying to not look crazy. Nope, it’s still there I have to go in. I pull all my hair back but I feel the “dred” moving down my jawline. I grab it and it slightly crunches in my hand. It’s a motherfucking roach. I just killed a roach on my face. All cool has left the building. I hop up while Kim is still straddled across my lap and the way physics is set up she falls on the floor with a loud thud. Kim doesn’t even yell out from hitting this hard wood floor she just gives me the “shhhh” finger. Bitch. I didn’t say that instead I said “Son I just killed a roach on my face”. I walked over to the wall hit the light switch and it’s a duo of roaches doing laps around the framed jersey hanging on the wall. I’m all the way freaked out. I’m checking my clothes for bugs and shit while Kim is still sitting on the floor in silence and STILL giving me the “shhhh” finger. I grab my hat and I’m out the door but since I’ve been lead around the house in darkness I don’t know where I’m going. She comes running out of the den behind and I yell “Hey let me out of this motherfucker”. Then I hear a deep booming voice in the distance “Kim who the fuck do you have in my house?” Just like I go from freaked out and disgusted to full out panic mode, I’m turning random door knobs looking for light switches, I’m bouncing off the walls like a pinball. Out of the darkness Kim grabs my arm and a snatched away from her like a single white woman walking down a dark alley in the begin of a “Law and Order: SVU” episode. I was beyond paranoid and now I can hear footsteps of somebody coming downstairs. She opens the front door then I see the light from the street and make a run for it. I hoped in my car and took off like I just robbed the neighborhood liquor store.

No I don’t know who was upstairs yelling and no I don’t who’s the actually owner of that home. My closure was escaping that home. Needless to say I never accepted a phone call from Kim ever again in addition to failing to see her naked. Plus a roach crawling on your face is an instant mood killer.

JD doesn’t like roaches or booming voices in the dark distance
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Valentine’s Day Help For the Fellas

Us guys sometimes have a hard time putting our feelings into words and expressing ourselves accurately. We often undersell or oversell our emotional attachments, more over underselling than anything else though. So here we are coming up on this lovers’ holiday and the people that stock the greeting card aisle at CVS still haven’t taken the guys that aren’t head over heels in love into consideration. I realized it was time for me to step up and fight this injustice. Here’s the JD e-card Valentine’s Day line. You’re welcome.

5 Rules I live by in my 35 years on earth

My 36th birthday is literally days away; yep I’m washed and I’ve acquired little bit knowledge through the years that has aided me in creating these rules so I’ve decided to share some of them with you good folks. (It’s only 5 mainly because I plan on writing this blog in 10 minutes and I fully intended on writing this last week but shit happens.)

Anyway on with the blog…

Rule 1 - Condom sex

I’m old now and I can’t deal with all this bullshit concerning with the opposite sex so I created the Condom Sex Rule; it’s simple and it has everything to do with condoms but at the same time nothing at all. Any girl that I would consider having sex with I ask myself would “my life flash before my eyes if the condom broke?” “Would I jump off a cliff if she said “I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it””? If the answer is yes to either of these questions I don’t fuck her.

Rule 2 - Stop waiting on Karma

I’m not saying that Karma doesn’t exist but I personally don’t put any stock into it. Don’t waiting around for the universe to right wrongs or seek out revenge on your behalf. It’s a waste of time and waste of energy; just go on living your life.

Rule 3 – Being fake

It’s a lot of important parts to being an adult nobody is telling us as children and not that “why didn’t they teach us how to balance a check book or file our taxes in high school” bullshit, but nothing more important than being fake. Honesty is the best policy almost none of the time and speaking your mind is often a terrible idea even more so these days with social media being the beast that it is. If your brand of honesty is anything less than politically correct then you may need to be fake in all professional settings and some personal settings. Laugh at your bosses bad jokes pretend to be interested in your co-workers stories about their family vacations, “like” pictures on IG even if you don’t really like them and your professional and personal relationships will work much smoother.

Rule 4 - If she says she doesn’t do something but does it for you just roll with it

Seriously just roll with it no matter how minuet or common it might be. If she says doesn’t normally have guys over but you’ve been Netflix and chilling on the regular at her condo don’t say “oh girls always have me over” and fuck it up for yourself. As soon as you open your mouth to let her know it’s not a big deal get ready for big time attitude and immediate suspension of privileges.  Just as much as girls like to feel special they like to think they are doing some special shit for you even if it’s some mundane bullshit.

Rule 5 - Not being “that parent”

I have a kid. Surprise; a person used to live in my balls and now she’s 8 walking around playing Mind Craft on her cell phone and calling me daddy. Somehow someway I managed not to become “that parent”. The “you don’t understand because you don’t have kids” parent, the “I live my life for my kids because my life was pointless before them” parent or the “I can’t have and/or maintain healthy relationships because of my kids” parent. Kids are an addition to your life that results in changes and we all understand that even those without kids. When you start blaming your kids for every missed event, date and boy’s/girl’s night out you’re that parent.

These are my rules
Jean DeGrate has spoken