The Windy Shitty

As I said, I would wait to continue my series until I got into an altercation with any of the previously listed antagonists. Well, it finally happened. Lucky me!

I wrote a blog about it. Like to read it? Here it go!

The Windbag - "People who talk a lot often talk about themselves. They have never acquired that inner voice that wonders, Am I boring you? To be a Windbag is to have a deep-rooted selfishness. Never interrupt or argue with these types--that only fuels their windbaggery."

I recently had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering a windbag phone-to-phone. There is a fine line between being random and being a self-centered word diarrhea-ist. I just made that term up. I like it. If you don’t then pretend you didn’t read it. Moving. On. I made the mistake of contacting the windbag in question with the intent of having a short conversation. In hindsight, I’m wondering what kind of drugs was I on to ever think such a thing was possible.

That was Strike 1.

During said conversation, I had another lapse in judgment when I thought that interrupting the windbaggery would inspire a cease word-fire on their behalf…Robert Greene has already warned of me of my fate when using this tactic (“Never interrupt or argue with these types--that only fuels their windbaggery." I made my bed, now sleep.

That was Strike 2.

Alas, just when you think I’d learned my lesson, I made another fatal error. I made, what I thought, was a logical suggestion as to why we should end the current phone conversation. (it was already late and she had to wake up early in the morning)

Strike 3. Go to your room!

Never, ever ever ever ever try to end the phone convo with a windbagger for a reason other than an emergency. This is an exercise in futility and will only be met with extreme resistance. Oh, you think just cause the windbag has been sleeping all night and you woke them up that they would rather have a good night’s sleep as preparation for tomorrow’s workday than have you fall victim to their incessant babbling? Au contrair mon fraire!

There is nothing in the universe that tickles the fancy of a windbagger more than to have someone listen to them. Ironically they are not seeking your feeback, only your torture by being their proverbial toilet for word diarrhea.

Want to know if you’re a windbagger? It’s simple. Pay attention next time someone wants to end a convo with you. If you notice that you keep talking while the other person inches towards the exit, or keeps giving you one word answers that suggest “let me the f*ck out of this word prison” then yes you are a windbagger. If you always have one more thing to say before a convo ends, you might be a candidate (P.P.S. lookin’ azz nucca).

Fortunately there is a cure to such a disease as windbagitis. You can talk to yourself, blog (lol), journal, or simply just shut the f*ck up.

You’re welcome.

Exercise, the Exodus from Stupidity’s Soldiers & Booty Calls Gone Wrong

Comedian Ron White once said that “you can’t fix stupid.” Boy was he on the money with that statement. I have picked up running lately and unlike most folks, I enjoy it much more when running without an iPod or a watch on. At first I thought it was because I like to be in touch with nature and sh*t, but I realized that’s a load of bull because I wouldn’t go camping with any you motherf*ckers if you paid me. I digress.

I like running with no iPod and no watch because it means that I’m completely out of touch with the rest of the world. That is a great thing because unfortunately, stupid people exist in the world and they can procreate and get driver’s licenses (not to mention get jobs at my company and get elected President).

The same goes for lifting weights at the gym, I like going there with no iPod but this theory had a hole poked in it this morning when I saw an ex-jumpoff at the gym, whom I conveniently avoided…she probably saw me and probably knows I saw her too…oh well.

While I’m working out or running that means I am completely inaccessible to the stupid people that I run across all too often. I can already hear you saying, “Carver, who are these bumbling idiots you speak of?” Well my friend, they come in many shapes, sizes, and colors. We’ll just talk about those I have recently come across.

In an effort to tie this in to the unsexies I blogged about previously I’ll talk about a recent altercation I had with a Bumbler, but first here’s a recap on what a Bumbler is: 

The Bumbler - "Bumblers are self-conscious...at first you may think they are thinking about you, and so much so that it makes them awkward. In fact, they are only thinking of themselves...their worry is usually contagious."

In all of her self-consciousness, she completely ignored the rules of engagement for a “booty-call” this was a....Booty-Call Gone Wrong 

Of course with any good story, there’s plenty of background info, but for this story’s purpose, it’s not important.

**warning** Please put your metaphor hat on tightly. You may now continue reading. If you see quotation marks, put your mind in the gutter. Thank you for your time and attention. 

Ok, so I am minding my own business on a Friday night, as any young gentleman should. Late in the evening I get into a very flirtatious convo with a young lady whom I haven’t seen in awhile. This young lady requests my presence at her abode in the late night hour of this rainy Friday night/Saturday morning. I oblige.

Prior to my departure I gather as much info about the “scope of work” that will be required for this visit. We’ll call this “engaging in negotiations.” I find out that a “meeting of the minds” is preferred, an initiative that I fully endorse because who doesn’t love a woman with a “good head” on her shoulders? 

Anyways. 

Mind you this is the same woman who during our first encounter took it upon herself to tell me the kind of “service” she wanted during the “pre-game warm up”…I politely informed her not to tell the Chef how to season his dishes unless she wanted to cook herself. This is yet another example of women turning favors into chores (more on this ubiquitous phenomenon in a later blog). 

Moving on. 

I arrive in the place to be and things and the previously discussed actions begin to occur. At the point where it is time for me to “sit back and enjoy the show”, I’m thinking that someone like her who is so adamant about this endeavor should be able to “dish it as well as she can take it, right?” I mean if you’re homeboy talks about basketball all the time, it’s only natural to think that he’s a hooper.

WRONG! 

The “show” was horrible. I was disappointed to the point of anger. However, I kept my composure and kept it moving…one monkey don’t stop no show. But now I am solely focused on “reaching the finale” and fleeing the scene. 

I finally arrive at the finale. I’m glad that I reached my destination, but mad about the “traffic on the way”. She goes to the bathroom for a moment only to return to me fully clothed. This triggers a puzzled look on her face. She inquires about what I’m doing and I tell her that I’m returning to headquarters because I have to go running with a friend in the morning. Since the length of the “work day” was not discussed I feel that it is my right as an American citizen to leave after both parties have “upheld their ends of the agreement.” She doesn’t take my departure so kindly and begins to debate the issue. 

The grounds for her argument are that this “friend” of mine must be a female and that my early departure is rude and inconsiderate. I retort that I cannot depart early if there’s no timetable established and that this friend of mine is quite the opposite of a female and is actually a 6’5” Nigerian and that I only used the term “friend” because she didn’t know this person. Logically this should have cleared everything up, but alas, logic is useless when dealing with most women. Who knew? Lol. 

From this point the following dialogue happens at the front door:

Me: *politely* would you grab my jacket from your closet?
Her: *comes back with my jacket and throws it on the couch near me very rudely*
Me: Aww, don’t be like that. I really didn’t know you wanted me to stay, if I did I would have let you know my plans to run in the morning
Her: *Evil Black Woman Stare while opening the door for me*
Me: *shrugs shoulders, smiles, then begins to exit*
Her: *grabs the back of my jacket in an impolite manner*
Me: *yank myself (and jacket) from her grasp auristocratically while walking to my car*

The End

Now, ladies and gentleman of the jury, I ask you. Am I the crazy one in this story?

 

 

A Job Ain’t Nothing but Work!

Job interviews…some people are good at them, some people suck at them. Regardless, they are a necessary step in the process of getting a job.

Basically how it works if you’re being interviewed is they ask you a question, you answer it, then wait for them to ask you another question. You repeat this process several times. If you’re lucky you’ll be able to ask a question at some point. But by the time you reach this point you’re usually tired of talking and wish someone would pull the fire alarm so you can run frantically out of the room and end this monotonous torture. What if you had to do this multiple times a day…wouldn’t that suck?

There is another interaction that follows the similar path of a job interview.

Conversations with women.

Most conversations men have with women follow the model of a job interview. She asks you a bunch of questions and you answer the questions to her approval. Because if you don’t meet her approval, that will only lead to further questioning. There are a few times in life where one just sits there and incessantly answers questions. These places are job interviews, tests, and legal proceedings (usually of the criminal nature). Meeting women is supposed to take us out of that frame of mind.

“Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in.” – Michael Corleone

Since I have not committed a crime, am not proving my proficiency, nor am I interviewing for a job, I shouldn’t be treated like I am. Men, being the logical, simple-minded, (read: smarter than women) creatures that we are, find many fundamental flaws in this behavior.

First of all, when we hang out with our friends, we don’t talk to each other like that. I have never asked one of my boys “how was your day?” The path of our convos is more like this:
· Guy 1 comments about subject A
· Guy 2 adds another comment about subject A
· Repeat steps 1 and 2 until subject B comes up.
· Maybe, just maybe, once in a while someone will ask a question, but that’s only to clarify a previous comment or sucker someone into getting commented on. That’s. It.

Second of all this tactic doesn’t work the other way around, if a guy asks a woman too many questions he crosses from “I think he’s into me” into the “girl this dude asks me too many damn questions, is he a stalker?” zone. Also, most girls love guys that can make them laugh. Well, we can’t make you laugh if we’re answering your got dayum questions all day!”

"You can't be asking me no questions...who the f*ck is you?" - Madd Rapper

However children, there is good news. This phenomenon can be fixed. It’s a simple fix. Stop asking so many questions.

Sometimes you don’t need to know EVERY SINGLE DETAIL POSSIBLE. Just think of the simple things in life you enjoy but don’t know every thing about, like your TV for example. You don’t need to know the science behind High Definition, or Plasmas versus LCDs, you just need to know how to turn it on, change the channel, and switch to auxiliary mode so you can play PS3 or watch a DVD. That’s. It.

My new rule, if a woman asks me too many questions in the first 3 minutes of the conversation, I’m ending it. And yes “too many questions” is completely up to my discretion and will change from day to day, minute to minute. Also, the end of the conversation can come in many forms, i.e. me making up something I have to do, or simply banging on you only to text you later that my phone lost its signal.

I know I know…I could simply tell the truth and be a man about it, but there’s no fun in that.

“I do things for the story, not the principle.” - Mikey Flynn

Besides, we all have done it at some point in our life…and we all know that Honesty is Overrated…more on that in the next blog…

P.S. Big Up to GOODENess for slapping the Big Joker on the table.

P.P.S. Another thing that annoys me (read: men all over the Earth in all cultures, races, and creeds) is when a woman has ONE question she wants the answer to but instead of just asking that ONE question, she asks a million questions around that ONE question and rarely every asks the ONE question she needed the answer to.

Free OJ!

Words to live by...learn from my mistakes

I am sitting here with a bottle of Pinot Grigio, watching my Vikings play the Packers and keep thinking of random sayings and lessons I’ve learned…so instead of keeping them to myself I figured I would share them with y’all. Enjoy.

Pre-Gaming is always more fun when shots are involved…trust me on this one, your night will be 10 times better.

Learn from white people, let go when you go out. Fellas, flirt back with the fat girl. Ladies, let the ugly guy chat with you for a sec. You’ll make the world a safer place.

Go to comedy clubs…there are more funny people on this earth than you think.

Stop jackin' off/poppin the pepsi can so much…get some real action.

Do something new at least once a week…you’re not as cool as you think you are.

Stop f*cking crazy b*tches…you knew that was banana cream pie when you met her…

Fellas stop judging women by the size of their azz. Ladies, stop judging men by how much money they have.

Ladies, stop asking us questions you already know the answer to. Matter of fact, stop asking us questions period because they are usually stupid ones...it is what it is.

Fellas, stop messing with that girl just because you wanna smash, even though you know you can’t stand talking to her azz.

Ladies, go play a sport, join a team. That way you can understand that YOU’RE NOT THAT IMPORTANT and NO ONE IS THINKING ABOUT YOU ALL THE GOT DAYUM TIME!

Wine gives you a better buzz than hard liquor does, and it’s better for you.

Some days for no reason at all, dress as fresh as you can. You’ll feel good about it.

“Variety is the spice of life” – Mike Williams

Never be ashamed of anything you do or say…

“Do what ever you have to do for your life to be the sh*t” – Katt Williams

If you gon’ do that shyt…DO THAT SHYT! – Faheem Majeed

If you stay ready, you ain’t never gotta get ready

Work smarter not harder…Do the worst task first.

"If you don't like your team, get a new one, it's really that simple." Mikey Flynn

"Get rid of the wackness and the dopeness will flow." - James Williams

Ladies always want a guy who has a sense of humor...why don't you start by having one yourself?

Fellas, stop saying reckless shyt to babes simply because you have nothing to lose...creativity/originality will get you farther than you think.

Fellas, you feel worse by NOT trying to holler at that girl than you would if you tried and got dissed. Square your shoulders, get your elbow in, and follow through.

Trust your instincts...thinking isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"You can't fix stupid" - Ron White

Ladies, men are really THAT simple...really, we are. I promise. Stop looking for latent meanings in our behaviors and words, because you're looking for something that isn't there...

Most men don't have the "unconditional love gene" thus if you're not our offspring, mother, or immediate family member, we need a reason to like you...give us one (or ten) and you got us. It's really that simple. (see above statement)

...and to answer your question ladies, YES we are always trying to f*ck you...but you knew that already didn't you?

*if you'd like further explanation of any of these proverbs, have one yourself, or think I am utterly retarded, please share your thoughts.*

An Ode to Jump-Offs

Imagine….a little boy watching cartoons in the living room; his mother in the kitchen baking a cake. When the cake is ready for oven insertion and the little boy has been behaving himself, he may be fortunate enough for his mother to call him into the kitchen and….

Yup, you guessed it. Lick the spoon.

Well my Negro friends, this proverbial licking of the spoon, is exactly what a jump-off is. What am I talking about? Follow me and I’ll explain further…

Now let’s say that
1) jump-off = licking the spoon
2) wifey = the cake

***most women lose me right about….NOW***

If the little boy sits in the living room watching cartoons and smelling cake for hours on end, when he finally sits down at the table for cake, he’s gonna be hungry as sh*t and probably overindulge because his tastebuds have been festering by smelling cake and not eating for a long time (read: drought).

However, if he gets to lick the spoon in the interim, then he will get to appease his tastebuds just enough to not be overwhelmed by hunger, but still enjoy the cake when he sits down to eat. Thus, not overindulging in the goodeness of said cake and exercising patience…

Let’s be honest. EVERY kid loves to lick the spoon. Unless you’re diabetic, or allergic to cake, then you like it…don’t lie to yourself.

So, what does a jump-off do? A jump off helps you approach relationships with a clear mind. For us guys, we can now go out to clubs, go on dates, etc, without sex as the foundation of your motives. You ever notice how girls always want a guy when he has a girlfriend? Well, the reason is that women can sense when you’re not trying to offer them d*ck. Since every guy they have met since they were 13 has been doing this, they are confused and perplexed when a guy does the opposite. Having a jump-off will give you this effect, guilt-free.

So, to the jump-offs of the world, I want to say thank you. I understand the persecution you endure and wanted to let you know that your hard work and intermittent emotional discomfort is truly appreciated. We salute you!

If you find yourself in the jump-off zone, do not fret. Simply understand that you are a role player on the team, and that although you may not get all the attention, the championship ring cannot be won without your input. You are Robert Horry, Steve Kerr, Bruce Bowen, David Tyree, an Offensive Lineman….and we love you very much from the depths of our loins.

Ladies, embrace the possibility that ‘the guy you’re really feeling’ has a jump-off. You benefit from this. His jump-off will keep him from thinking with the wrong head around you. This will get him to actually court you instead of finding creative ways to get his meat in your taco. You should buy her a drink.

8 Unsexy Personalities That Have Been Stifling Human Reproduction Since Medieval Times

Anti-Seduction...the anti-Christ, the anti-friend, the anti-kooter (for guys), the anti-cuddle (for girls)....we all have things about us that tend to keep us unlaid, undated, and lonely...However some of us are completely unaware of these traits.

Well, being the benevolent servant of the community that I am, (read: pompous a**hole that loves to tell people that they should change their entire thought process and follow my words like your Grandma follows The Bible) I decided to help everyone out and give you my view of some subtle things that should probably be stricken from that wonderful personality of yours (and mine).

Now that person you just went on a date with, or that person you've been sleeping with on the weekends can stop wasting precious daytime minutes to vent about your crazy a** to their cohorts.

Inspired by the book Art of Seduction, written by Robert Greene, particularly the section about Anti-Seducers, I decided to start a series that I'd like to call "Kill Yourself. Resurrect. Kill Yourself Again." A little dramatic, I know, but I'm really trying to get a point across. If you follow these guidelines, or at least give them a bit of thought before your next post-coital conversation, you can help make the world a safer place.

**disclaimer** I might not actually finish the entire series because I have ADD (sans Ritalin). I haven't had a girlfriend in damn near 3 years. I consistently either A) do something stupid to make women vehemently hate me OR B) just end up talking to crazy a** broads...so what do I really know?

So without further adieu I present Cornell Westside's synopsis of Robert Greene's 8 Anti-Seducers aka 8 Unsexy Personalities That Have Been Stifling Human Reproduction Since Medieval Times. Each one will get it's own posting...this is just a maxi single.

The Brute - "...they are concerned only with their own pleasure, never with yours...assuming you are so interested in them you have no reason to wait."

The Suffocator - "they fall in love with you before you are even aware of their existence...to be so admired may give a momentary boost to your ego, but deep in side you sense that their intense emotions are not related to anything you have done."

The Moralizer - "...These are people who follow fixed ideas and try to make you bend to their standards...they want to change you...they endlessly criticize and judge...they're mental rigidity may also be accompanied by a physical stiffness"

The Tightwad - "Cheapness signals more than a problem with money. It is a sign of something constricted in a person's character...they actually imagine that when they give someone some paltry crumb, they are being generous...YOU are probably cheaper than YOU think"

The Bumbler - "Bumblers are self-conscious...at first you may think they are thinking about you, and so much so that it makes them awkward. In fact, they are only thinking of themselves...their worry is usually contagious."

The Windbag - "People who talk a lot often talk about themselves. They have never acquired that inner voice that wonders, Am I boring you? To be a Windbag is to have a deep-rooted selfishness. Never interrupt or argue with these types--that only fuels their windbaggery."

The Reactor - "Reactors are far too sensitive, not to you but to their own egos. They comb your every word and action for signs of a slight to their vanity...They are prone to whining and complaining...Test them by telling a gentle joke or story at their expense; we should all be able to laugh at ourselves a little, but the Reactor cannot."

The Vulgarian - "Vulgarians are inattentive to the details...their clothes are tasteless by any standard--and in their actions: they do not know that it is sometimes better to control oneself and refuse to give in to one's impulses. Vulgarians will blab, saying anything in public...Indiscretion is a sure sign of the Vulgarian (talking to others of your affair, for example)."

If you know anyone with these traits, or have them yourself...Kill Yourself. Resurrect. Kill Yourself Again.

El Fin

Idle Hands do the Devil's Work

Well, well, well...I finally made it. I have a blogspot page. I have been journaling at least 3 or 4 times a week for about a year now and finally, I'm so tired of reading about myself that I decided to torture you blokes with it. Consider yourself lucky.

Enough about what I've been doing, let's get down to biz.

To put it plain and simple, I'm bored. Life in the real world is rather boring. It's hard to find things to naturally spice it up since the only things I am "required" to do (go to work and pay bills) are the Audobon to monotony...routine...repetitive...boring. I don't do well when there's nothing for me to do. As you're about to find out.

You're probably saying, 'why don't you go back to school'? But honestly, I'm tired of school. However, the one thing I do miss about school is that you had some path to follow, a goal to achieve, and then a reward at the end of it all. In this life, not so much. I need for others to try to impose structure on me because then I have rules...and then I can break the rules (I like to break stuff).

Every single day, I wake up, go to work, go work out, come home, chill, then go to sleep and start the process all over again. Sprinkle a bit of courtship with the aesthetic pleasures of the Philadelphia Metropolitan Area (read: kooter chasing) and basketball...and you have my life in a nutshell.

For some strange reason my subconscious decided that the only way to spend my leisure time was to chase kooter. I can't seem to shake the urge no matter what I do. It has become rooted in my every action. The music I listen to, the books I read, the shows I watch, the friends I hang with...it all seems to revolve one thing; ways to get more kooter.

Now there's nothing wrong with kooter itself, it's actually quite wonderful (and delicious). It creates babies, dramatic situations, schizophrenia, orgasms, and porn. All things that we find quite intriguing...don't lie to yourself.

Newton's 1st Law of Motion, The Law of Intertia: A) An object that is not moving will not move until a net force acts upon it. B) An object that is in motion will not change its velocity until a net force acts upon it.

I have tried to do a myriad of things to "change velocity" but nothing has worked. I have a few new ideas to rid me of this lovely (read: horrible) addiction. However, I have to wait for those things to come to fruition (damn those service organizations that stop doing sh*t in the summertime)...and as you'll soon read about in future blog, I don't do well at waiting for anything...I guess I'll have to get over that. As they say, "patience is a virtue."

I say FCUK PATIENCE!...just kidding...only if she's cute...never mind, bad joke...what am I talking about?

On the bright side, I'm going to see Patrice O'Neal (dyke punching, anyone?) at the Helium Comedy Club tonight and there's a happy hour after work, so I can drink and/or laugh the pain away until I get home this evening...next month I should be cured, but until then I'll share my thoughts on the proverbial therapy couch known as this blog.

Thank you for your time and attention. Cornell Westside aka Carver G Woodson, signing off.

P.S....don't worry, I'll actually get around to talking something OTHER than myself...but I had to start somewhere....who needs therapy when you just blog your problems away.