Groupies and Sports: The Battle

February is upon us. Most of us think of Valentine's Day, and how to make our significant others smile brightly. We also think of the three huge sporting events that take place every year.


It starts with the NFC/AFC Pro Bowl, the NFL's "All-Star" game. For the last 30 years, this game has taken place in Hawaii, after the other NFL spectacle, the Super Bowl. This year, the NFL has decided to hold the Pro Bowl in the same city as the Super Bowl, the week before the big game. That site is Miami, for the 2010 contest.

The fact that the Pro Bowl is being played the week before the Super Bowl is a whole 'nother blog. Let's explore the logistics of it being held in Miami. Miami is widely known as a "party city." So, one could surmise there would be plenty of alcohol (and drug) fueled liasons on any given weekend. The added festival atmosphere of a Super Bowl, plus a Pro Bowl game, multiplies the prospect of these liasons.

Thousands of sports fans make pilgrimages to these events every year, prepared to spend exorbitant amounts of money. Should my Eagles one day make it again, I will include myself among those masses. However, thousands of non-fans make it there, as well. I'm referring to the groupies. Women, and sometimes men, who go for the prospect of meeting and/or "hooking up" with a professional athlete, with no regard to the game itself.

The fact that the Pro Bowl is being played there, exponentially increases the number of athletes and celebs that would normally be at the Super Bowl. This may increase the "groupies'" chances of attaining their "goal." The past couple of weeks, on Twitter, I've seen countless tweets from women from every walk of life, about how they're going to either the Pro Bowl, Super Bowl, NBA All-Star Weekend in Dallas, or even all of the above. Not to mention the parties that go along...

Here's the difference... (Courtesy of www.keepittrill.com)

Fan:

-loves the sport
-very competitive in fantasy football
-loves the talent
-you can not call her on Sunday or Monday night because she is glued to the television
-goes to the games in her favorite players jersey
-knows what a triple double is
-knows what off sides means

Groupie

-sleeps with the players
-looks up his salary on USA today
-can quote his salary
-likes the athlete for his looks
-goes to the basketball games in five inch heels and finds her way to the family section
-knows nothing about the sport but can name the top ten highest paid players
-shows up to all parties hosted by an athlete (will drive 300 plus miles to get there)



Most of these women have otherwise displayed no interest in sports. It makes one wonder if they can be included under the "groupie" umbrella. Conversely, I follow a few ladies who do truly love sports, and in some cases, have considerably more knowledge than most men do.

I asked one of these ladies a few questions about groupies and sports. She gave me quite insightful feedback. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the lovely, brilliant, classy...Lizz Robbins.




ThugRockStar: Lizz, how does it make you feel when women are automatically labeled 'groupies' at big sports events?

Lizz Robbins: Personally I detest the word "groupie." It should've stayed where it originated, with rock bands. I think it sucks for the true sports fans that are females, that have to deal with that when they are truly going with the intent to enjoy the event.

TRS: Do you feel that 'groupies' devalue sports? If so, please elaborate.

LR: I think women that stay in the "locker room" devalue themselves, not the sport. It will always remain the same.

TRS: How do you feel the stigma can be eliminated?

LR: As long as there are women who participate and throw themselves at men in the "spotlight" it will never end.

TRS: Thank you so much!

LR: Not a problem hun...

Sadly, many of us feel this way. This is because there is no shortage of women trying to "come up", or find a rich man to latch on to in order to become financially secure. Or, they want the "fame by association." Who better than a pro athlete or celeb? The cruel reality of the matter is, unless you already run in those circles, your chances of catching one, are the same as the prospect of me playing for a pro team, one in a million.

Sistas, I ask... Please stop perpetuating stereotypes and acting as less than the queens you were born to be. You shouldn't need to depend on what's between your legs to get you where you need to be. Depend on what's between your damn ears. It's one thing to meet an athlete and end up falling in love in a healthy way. But, if your goal in life is to say, "My man plays for ________", please, I implore you to reevaluate your priorities.

If but one sista reads this and it makes her think, I've accomplished something.



You can follow Ms. Robbins on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Lizzs_Lockeroom She also has a Twitter page, devoted to hockey at http://www.twitter.com/LoveThePuck
Lizz models, as well. Check her out at http://www.lizzmodel.com

How Soon We Forget

As we start a new decade, I think about some huge catastrophic events that unfolded during the last 10 years. Then, I get irritated because, right behind these thoughts comes the idea of how "we" reacted at the time, and in the aftermath of such events. 3 huge stories come to mind...

9/11- Easily the most horrifying attack on the U.S., ever. The gamut of emotions was run, at first... Fear, shock, confusion, anger, patriotism, sadness. You name it, we probably felt all of it at one time or another. At this time, I was a manager at a "retail Home Improvement Warehouse." I sold countless American flags, that whole month. "Old Glory" was flying off the shelves at an alarming rate. We could not keep up with the demand. Patriotism was at an all-time high. We were nice to our neighbors. We appreciated and complimented anyone who we saw in a military uniform.

After a month, the "old" Americans showed up. People bought flags as a "fashion statement." I personally know someone who had an American flag, made by Tommy Hilfiger. That was not a joke. And...they BRAGGED about having a Hilfiger flag!

You gotta be fuckin' kidding me!

Our selfish and lackadaisical ways returned among the masses. If it wasn't for TSA, we'd be ripe for the pickings again. If you don't believe that, witness the "White House Party Crashers" that got way too close to President Obama. What if those people were suicide bombers? We'd still be talking about what the President meant to our history. Of course, that would be in a posthumous tense.

Let's move forward.

Hurricane Katrina- The deadliest storm in U.S. History. The situation was appalling. We all saw the images of people trapped in attics of flooded homes, dead bodies floating in the street, and the carnage in the Superdome, in New Orleans. But, guess what? Unless you were personally affected, how many of us felt anything other than, "Damn. That's fucked up?" I would bet there's more of you than would be willing to admit it. That city is STILL affected, 5 years later. The Saints going to the Super Bowl is the worse thing that can happen for the city. I say this because it will make more people forget about the real tragedy still going on there. FEMA was and still is worthless. Maybe the media will spin the whole "Look how far New Orleans has come, since Katrina. It is on the cusp of a Super Bowl title!" That's great, if the Vince Lombardi trophy feeds the people still struggling to eat every day, or shelters some of the people that still don't have homes.

Now, let's fast forward, one more time.

Haiti Earthquake- The images that this catastrophe has generated, are so difficult to watch. I am a big, burly "man's man", not easily moved to tears. But, when I saw a report on a little girl that was trapped in rubble, and that the rescuers were at a loss for what to do, without amputating her leg...I almost let some tears go. I am not afraid to admit that my eyes became a little moist. You could hear the little girl screaming in pain, behind the reporter, who was also visibly shaken. They did manage to get the little girl out without amputating. And there are more people being rescued every day. I have a huge amount of admiration for the resolve of the people of Haiti. What I don't admire is, not even 2 weeks after the massive death and destruction, people are making jokes. I will not dignify them by repeating them here. But, this is nothing but "FOUL."

Imagine if you lost someone in tragedies like those mentioned above. If someone had jokes about it, you'd likely be prepared to kill. Especially when it's still new and raw.

But, hell... We'll forget all about, in 2 weeks. This when the unofficial national holiday, known as the Super Bowl rolls around again. We won't be thinking about anything but which party we're going to, or how much we can win by betting on the game.

We spoiled Americans can really be assholes sometimes...

2009-A Thug Rock Review

In these last few hours of this decade, I've reflected on where I am, where I've been, the people I've come across, and some of the things that have happened. I gotta say, 2009 was like no other year in this decade. Was it the most eventful, maybe. 2001 might have something to say about that. 9/11 makes a pretty convincing case with that event alone, plus the tragic loss of Aaliyah.

But, let's take a quick look at the past year.

The first black President Of The United States was inaugurated. Barack Obama deservedly accomplished something that most of us thought we'd never see in our lifetimes. Never had there been so much emotion behind a politician or election. President Obama represents hope for this country. Not just African-Americans, but the country as a whole. Give him time. The U.S. didn't get fucked up in a single term. It took Baby Bush 8 years to do that. It's only fair we give our President at least one term to turn it around.

Sports was more exciting than in recent years. The Pittsburgh Steelers won an unprecedented sixth Super Bowl championship. (I need my Eagles to get one before I die) The Los Angeles Lakers returned to glory, winning their 15th NBA World Championship. They need one more to tie the Boston Celtics for the most. They may just get it, this year. Also returning to their rightful place as a dynasty, was the New York Yankees. They dispatched my Phillies to win their 27th World Series, by far the most in baseball. Can't wait to see who gets crowned, this year.

We lost many celebrities in 2009. Least of which was The King Of Pop, Michael Jackson. This writer was inspired to write an emotional tribute, which can still be found in this blog's archives. "Requiem For A Fallen King" is available for your review. However, please don't forget the men and women of our Armed Forces, that lost their lives defending ours. As a former member of the military, this subject is close to me.

Personally, it was a busy year for me, as well. Personal highs and lows, as well as professional. We all had them, I'm pretty sure. Hopefully, there will more highs for all of us in the coming 365 days. Blessings to all. Much love to those who follow me on Twitter, and who follow this blog. I am eternally grateful for your support in everything I've tried to do. Blessings to all for 2009 and beyond...

THANK YOU!

Crazy Nights

This is what the Thursday Night Fuckery that you've heard so much about, looks like. If you don't know, I host at a place called Blurr Bistro & Ultra Lounge, on Thursday nights. As we all know, alcohol and outgoing people make for great times. I make sure I ahve some type of camera on hand to record the fun. Here are some samples...



Lovely young lady on the set...



How I gets down...



They get it in, courtesy of me & my DJ, Mark Anthony...

This is how it goes down each and every Thursday night, at Blurr. If you're in the area, come on through. I might even buy you a drank.

My Most Embarrassing Moment (Sort Of)

Everybody has one of these stories to tell. So, before you sit there, reading, and pass judgment, be prepared to bare your own soul. If not, miss me with the slick talk...

It was my senior year in high school. I had become one of the top sprinters in Burlington County, NJ, that year. One of our biggest rivals was Kennedy High, in Willingboro, NJ. This is the same town that Carl Lewis had the beginnings to his legendary Track & Field career. In fact, his father, who has since passed away, was at the meet.

The day started off pretty good as I competed in the High Jump. This was my first year in this event. I was one of the few cats in my school that could dunk on a regulation basket consistently. One of the coaches saw it, and before you know it, the local papers were saying I was leading the high jump for our team. Riiight.

Now, did I have "hops?" Absolutely! 2-handed monster dunks and reverses were almost effortless for me. But...that doesn't necessarily translate to high-jump success. Long story short, because I'm digressing... Carl Lewis' dad told me I had the most spring he had seen in high-jumper, but I needed work on my technique. Understatement on a very high level, but it amped me up.

Onto "my" event: the 200-meters. Perfect race for me because I didn't have a great start, but my recovery speed was on point. I won most of my races coming from behind. *pause* The gun goes off. After 10 meters, I have 2 runners in front of me. I'm not too worried because I know my closing speed, and I hadn't hit the after-burners yet.

We come off the curve, fairly close. I'm just about to shift into that extra gear, when I feel something isn't right. Not pain, but something just doesn't feel right. AW DAMN! My one-eyed man decides to make an appearance, slapping against my damned leg! Kennedy and Willingboro High Schools were known for having a shitload of honeys. FOINE ones too. At this very moment, it seemed like every single fine female in that town was on that fence, watching me... FML moment.

So, I did what any red-blooded teenage boy in that situation would do: I stopped, placed the offending appendage back in it's proper shelter, and walked across the finish line. Hell, I was last anyway. But...and this is important, none of those chicks had "small penis" jokes. In fact, we could say I was made to feel better about the occurence, later that weekend.

I ended up going to the States, that year. I finished 5th in the 200. Not what I wanted, but respectable. I'd like to hear from you guys about YOUR embarrassing experiences...

Abuse: What To Do???

First, let me apologize for not posting anything lately. I appreciate any of my readers that are still hanging in there with me. The fact of it is, I can't post a blog for the sake of posting one. It has to mean something to me. I feel like it's the realness and passion of what I write that you guys dig. So, finally somebody gave me an idea that meant something to me.

What do you do, as a man, when you know a another man is physically abusing his woman? What should you do?

I actually had this situation not long ago. My next door neighbors were a young, married couple. I became pretty cool with the husband, as well as the wife. On the surface, it seemed that they were happy. The wife, whom I'll call "Alana", had a child from a previous relationship. But, the husband, whom I'll call "Chuck", had a great relationship with the child to the point where the child called him "Daddy."

Chuck seemed laid-back and confident, in the fact that he had a beautiful family. They had just moved into the area. Alana found a job pretty quickly. Chuck wasn't quite as motivated. He had a little too much love for weed and liquor. Alana was patient with him, though. She allowed him to enjoy Hennessy and kush-filled evenings with his weed-smoking friends, as long as she knew he was seeking gainful employ.

However, as days became weeks, and weeks became months, being the sole provider and playing "Supermom" began to get old, for Alana. She began to voice her displeasure. Chuck, being a former drug-dealer that kept money, began to get in his feelings with his pride. After a while, my girlfriend at the time, began to tell me about hearing commotion through the somewhat thin walls that divided our two dwellings. Still, when we saw them, they put on the happy faces.

Very early, one morning, I leave my home to find Chuck sitting on the hallway stairs. This was not really unusual. But, the vibe he had about him was. He gave me a look, and shook his head.

Me: What's wrong, my dude?
Him: Man...it just went DOWN.
Me: The fuck you talkin' bout, son???
Him: Alana just tried to cut me with a knife...
Me: Get the fuck outta here! Why?
Him: We were arguing and she just flipped on me.

Now, your dude is not a fool. I'd known there were tussles between them previously. Plus, I know that 9 times out of 10, a woman is not going to try to slice a dude, unless she feels she has to protect herself. Basically, he confirmed what we had all suspected.

So, now he's given me the information. What do I do? Do I not get involved and take a chance that not just Alana, but both of them risk injury or death, if this continues? Or, do I say something with the risk that both of them may turn on me, as can happen in a lot of domestic violence situations?

It's a tough choice. If you've ever been in this situation, you understand what I'm talking about. I chose the latter, as I took a calculated risk that Chuck trusted me, as a sort of mentor.

Me: Dude, you know I heard y'all the other night, right?
Him: Man, I just couldn't take her swinging on me anymore...
Me: Yeah, but you can't do that, bruh. Take a walk. That's what I do when mine grinds my gears.
Him: Yeah, I guess you right. I'mma have to try that.

Of course, it didn't work. To Alana's credit, she did take her daughter and leave Chuck, for a short time. When she did come back, Chuck was treated like a guest in the house. Seemed like he learned his lesson. He even found a pretty good paying job.

But, the peace in the house only lasted a short while. After, I left the complex, due to my own relationship breaking up, I found out Chuck reverted back to his old ways. He left the area completely, not long ago. But, I often wonder what choice I would have had to make, if the situation had escalated to where I was forced to act.

Glad I never had to choose... But, what would you do? Before you answer that, you need to think it all the way through. Think of all the possible ramifications... legal and otherwise. Love to hear your thoughts!

Twitter Haters?

Evidently, my exploits on Twitter are being talked about at my place of work... Don't worry. It's nothing that can adversely affect my job, or my status at my place of employment. It's just simply annoying.

There are about 3 people at my job that follow me on Twitter...that I know of. Chances are, one of them has been talking about the ol' ThugRocker™. This morning, I was asked, in somewhat of a sarcastic fashion, "You sho' be on that innanet, don't you?"

Me: Yeah, I do some stuff on the computer. Why?

Them: You be twitterin' from yo phone and errythang.

Me: (After blank stare) OK....

Them: *snickering*

I laughed a little as I walked off from them. I don't know if I'm getting old, or what the deal is. But, where I come from, this would be classified as a case of Dick-Riding. (See previous post)
This would get chicks cursed out, and get dudes' asses WHUPPED. I'm having a problem with the proliferation of dudes in this area (VA) checking out, and making catty comments about other dudes!!! Shit blows my mind. They are worse than chicks sometimes...

My question is, why the BLUE FUCK do you have an issue with what I do with my free time. I'm a grown ass man, dawg. I give less than 2 drops of pigeon piss what you do, when you're on your own time.

One dude even said, "I heard you a cyberthug, or somethin' like that." Really!? Now this is the same cat we called out for saying he remembers "Sanford & Son" and Lamont's pants being so tight, he could "see his meat." Pause Police would have sentenced this "dude" to death by sex change. But, being a leader...I can't say things like that, on the job. I did remind him though..."Bruh, don't let this title and this light-skin fool you. You are really about to play yourself." Then, he started laughing and saying I couldn't take a joke. Y'all know me by now...In my mind, I said "Fuck it."

Me: You know...it's enough of a chore for me to have walk around with all of this dick. But, now I gotta carry your dead-ass weight on it too? Fuck outta here with that bullshit."

I just will never understand why people have to try to down other people, thinking it will make them seem like a better person. I told the people in both instances the same thing I have said in some of my rants on Twitter... "Get your self-esteem weight up, son. But, thank you for keeping me on your minds and in your mouths. Take that how you will."

Remember, people. It is annoying, at first. But, when you get down to it, it is the ultimate compliment. If you weren't doing shit, nobody would think twice about you.

As those motherfuckers found out...

THAT'S MY LOGIC!!!

Jockin' 101

I understand that a lot of times, my logic is not in line with everyone else's. Even if it is, most of you don't vocalize it. In other words, sometimes I say what you guys are thinking. So, once again the fuckery that is Twitter, has sparked the synapses in this brain...


dick riding (definition)
Sucking up to; to be someone's bitch or make yourself look inferior to someone, just to earn their respect or get something tangible in return.

1: That guy was totally 'dick riding' that rapper because he was hoping to get noticed. 2: That lady is a total 'dick rider', every time she sees someone with a hunk of cash she'll try to sleep with them.
-Courtesy of Urban Dictionary



I try to stay away from blogging about celebrities. God knows we have more than enough blogs about gossip. Plus, that ain't my style. "Requiem For A King" is about as close as I come. But, that was a chapter in our history. More of a tribute/eulogy, if you will.

As I go along on my Twitter journeys, I notice that part of the appeal that made Twitter the monster that it is, is that you can tweet to celebrities, athletes, models, and even porn stars.

What I notice, is that more often than not, celebrities rarely reply to "regular" people. But, when they do, they seem to be down-to-earth, and most times, pretty cool. I only tweet to celebs if they have said something interesting, and I have something relevant to add to it. This is the same approach I apply to everyone on Twitter.

I see a lot of people that get really upset, when celebs don't reply back. In a way, I can understand this. But, there's two sides to a coin...

Think about why they are called "celebrities." This means that they are very popular. Now, me...being just a regular dude, I have approximately 930 followers. I follow around 630. Sometimes my little timeline moves very fast. As a result, I don't see some tweets unless I go back into my @ replies. I try to answer anyone that tweets me. Every once in a while, I gotta dig pretty deep because someone got upset with me for not answering them. So, imagine someone with hundreds of thousands of @ replies to read and respond to...

However, I also feel like the celebrity has a responsibility to let their fans know they at least acknowledge their presence. Use a blanket tweet like, "I see my fans out there. I can't answer all of you right now, but I love you guys back." Something to that effect...

Now, here's the part where I might piss some people off...

Some of y'all take your adoration of these celebs a bit too far. We all want to be part of the "in crowd." Nobody wants to be an outcast. I have seen some straight bullshit on Twitter, when it comes to celebrity interaction. You don't need to re-tweet every response, if you are lucky enough to have a celeb reply to you. The rest of us are still not going to know who you are.

I've seen people respond to motivational blanket tweets, like the celeb in question was talking specifically to them. Really!? Is your need for validation that severe? I've seen people who write blogs claim that celebs wrote articles for them, when in reality, they copied and pasted the celeb's own blog entry. Plagiarism can be a pain in the ass, if you get caught...

Make your own way, people. Jockin' these celebs will you famous for nothing more than being a dick-rider. They didn't get famous for simply talking to another famous person. They displayed a talent, and people dug it. I don't think being "Net famous" on social networking sites pays very well. You'll need to find another way to supplement your income.

Don't hang with the "cool kids." BE the "cool kid" everyone wants to hang with.

This brings me to my next bone of contention: the people that THINK they're celebs. The bloggers and publicists and whoever's claim to fame is what they do on Twitter, Facebook, and MySpace.

You have some folks out there, claiming to be the King or Queen of their venue of choice. Really!? I tell you what... Come with me to where I hang out, and I'll make you feel like the Court Jester. Outside of us internet geeks (I mean that in the coolest way), nobody knows who you are. I've mentioned the so-called "pro" bloggers' names, and people were like, "who the hell is that???" Once again, I see people with low self-esteem, seeking to validate themselves.

I purposely left names out of this entry. But, if you think I'm talking about you, or your favorite blogger...I probably am. Feel free to let them know. Get at me, or have them do it. I don't care. I will tell them the same thing... "Get your self-esteem weight up, son."

Matter of fact, I may start going after these other bloggers. I think I've kind of proved myself, in the fact that I can hang with the "heavyweights." This may end up becoming the "blog other bloggers are afraid of." Might be time to make my move and slay the Kings/Queens...

A Night Out- a tale of erotica

Not even when you came out of your bedroom, in your new, sexy outfit, did I have thoughts of what would eventually go down. Sure, the silk sat on your curves, only the curves of a "sista." Of course, I had to be impressively handsome for you, in my silk button-down and crisp jeans. As we had dinner, I noticed how smoky your eyes were done, and how perfect your silky, black hair was laying on your shoulders. It framed your face like it was a Picasso. I tried, really tried not to let you catch me staring at your lips. But, they were full, smooth, and glowing from your expertly applied gloss. Thank goodness, we finished eating...

I'm glad you understood that I don't really like clubs. I knew you might dig this jazz lounge we were going to. As we drove, my peripheral caught a glimpse of thigh, peeking out from the slit in your dress. You didn't know, but that's why I concentrated on keeping my eyes on the road.

As we had drinks at our table, you laughed at my bad jokes, while I got lost in your smile and those cocoa brown eyes. I hung on your every word, if only because your voice was music to me...better than the works of Dizzy, Bird, and Marsalis wafting through the smoke and noise. All of those were rendered irrelevant by your presence.

I stood, and extended my hand. You gave me the sexiest, knowing smile I had seen in my life. The way your fingers interlocked with mine, gave me a clue that this may not be the typical dance. I made sure I didn't hold you too close at first, for fear of being too forward. But, as the horns and strings and keys caressed our ears and our spirits, we gravitated. You fit so well, as we pressed against each other. I'm sure you felt "me." Why did you have to wear a backless dress? Running my hand over the smooth skin almost got me high...

I barely noticed that the song was over. I looked in your eyes again, and my knees almost buckled from they way they looked at me. We danced more, and I was becoming addicted to having my arms around you. From the way you laid your head on my chest, it seemed you could get used to it, as well. I don't think we broke contact too much, the rest of the time...

Being the gentleman, I get you home at a decent hour. After saying our salutations, the awkward moment was upon us: the "goodnight kiss." Only...it wasn't awkward for us. Strangely, it felt very right. A peck on the lips quickly evolved into a deep, passionate wet union of our mouths. You pulled me into you so tight, as if we were going to melt into each other. I held you just as tight, as if this would be the last time I ever saw you. The feeling of your curves in my hands, and your heaving breasts pressing against me, put me in almost a frenzy!

We stumble inside the door, still holding onto each other for dear life, while tasting each other's lips, necks, and earlobes. You had a little trouble unbuttoning my shirt. So, me being the gentleman, I helped you rip it open. As I heard the "click-clack" of the buttons hitting the floor, I peeled your dress off your shoulders, and slid it down to the floor, making stops to taste your breasts, stomach and thighs, on the way down.

We were still somewhat sweaty from all the dancing. But, you still smelled so sweet. On the way back up, after you stepped out the pile that was your dress, my arms coiled around your thighs like pythons. I lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around my waist, while we kissed a primal, savage kiss. I laid you on the bed, and traced a map, between those round, firm breasts, down the middle of your stomach, and made a slight detour to enjoy the taste of your inner thigh. I then kissed and nibbled my way back up, and felt the humid heat of your womanhood against my face.

I savored the taste of you, exploring every fold and crevice, with my tongue. Your sweet-sounding gasps, and the arch in your back told me where I should focus on. And I did. My only goal in life, at that moment...was pleasing you. Your breathing got more shallow, as your hand gripped the top of my head. I could feel the tips of your nails as you struggled not to dig them into my scalp. All of a sudden my hearing was muffled. The squeezing of your thighs was so, that my ears were covered.

I felt your hands pull up on my shoulders. I didn't catch it at first. But, your whispers of "Please" let me know what to do. I kissed my way back up your moist body, and my manhood got a touch of your now-hot softness. I let the swollen head lay on your pearl and outer lips for a few seconds, feeling the slick wetness. But, not too long, for teasing you would be torturing myself.

We both let out a gasp and a moan, as I entered you. Slowly, and with care, I stroked in and out, while your hips reciprocated, in kind. We were dancing again, and were joined as one. Your moans and whispers in my ear, as well as feeling your breath from such, turned me on even more, and put me into overdrive.

I stopped and you wondered why. I want you on top, so I can feel every bit of the warm haven that had become "home" to my smooth shaft... We seamlessly rolled over, with no need for re-entry. Your full breasts swung to and fro, and I made a little game of trying to catch one with my mouth. I won, as you rose and descended on me. All of a sudden, I felt the beginnings of a pleasurable wave, growing in magnitude. I pulled you down, and gripped the back of your neck and one of those round, smooth buttocks. You held me so tight, and your nails buried themselves into the flesh on my shoulders as we erupted, like a volcano of ecstasy. At that moment, I felt a sensation of euphoria, as my endorphins flooded my brain.

We fell asleep in a sweaty heap, with me still inside of you. I woke up, a few hours later, and got a warm cloth and gently wiped you down, as I tasted those lips once more. Is this the last time? I don't know. But, for these few hours, everything was right in the world...

Visions...one for you.

I can't plan when I write. It just comes out of my brain, runs to my fingertips, and makes sparks on my keyboard... I was feeling poetic, so this is what the result is.

"Visions"
by ThugRockStar


I found a strand of your hair on my shirt today.
How do I know it's yours? No one else can get as close to me.
That single strand of dark, pretty hair inspires flashes in my mind
of your lovely ebony beautiful ways.

First thing I thought of was when we last embraced.
The way you just "fit" me, and I never felt more like your protector.
The way you laid your head on my chest,
made me want to protect you that much more.

I found one of your earrings on my sofa, the other day.
No, silly. I know you didn't leave it there on purpose.
You don't need to "mark your territory"
I'm yours only, at the end of the day.

First thing I thought of, was how you laid on me
while we watched that movie.
I didn't care that it was a "chick flick."
I was good with being you, me...we.

I found one of your blouses in my room, last night,
When I picked it up to fold it, the faint aroma of your perfume
made me have a vision of one night...
I was surprised you dug that "thing" we did...

It's amazing how the simplest things
make me think of you.

No one else can get as close to me.

Home Improvement For The Brothas: one Sista's perspective.

A while ago, I wrote "Home Improvement For The Sistas", a snapshot into what the sistas can do to help us men be better men. I anticipated resistance/rebuttal from the ladies. I was pleasantly surprised with praise and support. I did get requests for what the brothas can do to help the sistas help us. Ladies are complex creatures that I am still endeavoring to truly understand, so I went and got a female point of view. Ladies & Gents, I give you the sexy, HIGHLY intelligent (and my partner in cerebral assassination) Anette, also known as @HotSexyBiscuits, on Twitter. Check out some more of her outstanding posts at http://nettesworld.wordpress.com/ Take it away, Anette...

Segue to female voice...

Now my boy, ThugRock, gave some key points for the sistas to chew up and digest and apply to their lives in regards to the male perspective on relationships but I want to break a few down for the fellas, if ya’ll would allow me to massage your frontal lobes for a second. Is that alright? Ok then, here we go -

1. We can handle the truth, can YOU handle our response to it? Women can handle the truth just fine from the gate. If you tell us the deal from day one then allow US to decide if we want to take on the task of whatever your truth is ( 3 baby mamas, no job, live with your mama, no car, rap career hasn’t taken off yet and work at KFC, etc.) then you put the ball in our court. Sure, sure, if you lie this will prolong all the glorious sex you could have with her until she finds out the truth but in all honesty, the drama that will follow it will suck for both of you. You know you don’t really want to deal with the rain of phone calls, text messages and the other drama that comes with some women feeling betrayed because you didn’t come out with it in the beginning. You may act like it doesn’t bother you to keep sending the calls to voicemail and deleting texts but you know it does and so do we.There are some women who will say they are cool with the truth then flip later on. With women like that you have to watch for the signs: If she starts asking you questions about who you are with all the time, checking your cell phone call list or trying to hack your Myspace page password, chances are she ain’t cool with it at all. Women like that may say they are cool but in reality are thinking “Oh I can change him to my way of thinking, just give me time”. If you find out that is the case, SHUT IT DOWN. Period, no negotiations. You see the train wreck coming down the track, move out the way. So what the sex may be good, good sex is relative in that respect if you’ve already gone down that road but make the U turn quick before you’ve gone too far to prevent the drama. A real woman knows you can’t change a grown man, just as you can’t change a grown woman. If a woman knows what the deal is with you up front, it saves her time frominvesting feelings in you, gives us the proper perspective of what the relationship could really be (friends/lovers/booty call) and saves her $10 bucks on the gasoline she’d buy for setting your crib on fire when she finds out you lied to her. Just be open with it up front, if she isn’t interested, brush ya shoulders off and keep it moving. Help us help you.

2. You date women of other races because ‘you don't feel we are submissive enough, we have too much attitude and won’t be a freak in bedroom’. If you don’t get anything else I say get this: some black women are freaks in the bedroom to the RIGHT man. If she hasn’t been one to you, chances are you ARE NOT him. People have had misconceptions about this that go way back to slavery. A person’s melanin level or lack thereof has nothing to do with her attitude, her ability to listen to her man or if she’s down for whatever sexually. Sure there are some women who are just loud for no good reason, combative just for the sake of a good fight and just won’t do anything but be selfish sexually. This is only a small percentage of the women out there. Just because she doesn’t advertise how she is in the bedroom or at first seems to question what you are about and even may be a bit of a firecracker, if love happens, sometimes she will mellow out(at least towards you, anyway). You have to earn our respect to heed what you say, you have to show us you aren’t going to sail our relationship/family boat into the rocks. If you prove you are the head, we will take our place by your side, not behind you. We aren’t meant to just accept everything you say, you should respect a woman who will challenge how you view the world, you both can grow that way. You don’t make executive decisions in a relationship, you come to conclusions together. As far as the sex is concerned, again, all women are different regardless of color. If she feels a comfort level with you, this opens up the door to the things you can do. You must do what it takes to make that happen if that is what you desire. You can have the lady in public and the freak in the bedroom. There are more undercover freaks out there than you can even imagine. Act accordingly and you may find one.

3. We are independent women, however this does not mean we don’t want you. I love Ne Yo’s song 'Miss Independent' and you should too, if you take it for the real point behind it. We have our own money, jobs, homes and all that however all this means is that we don’t need you. This has nothing to do with us wanting a man. Now some women may take this out of context but I’m not talking to them right now, I’m talking to you. WANTING a man means you desire his companionship, his conversation, his insight, his strength, his heart and his love. NEEDING a man means you need his money, his credit, his car, his cash and all the material things he has. Sometimes it’s harder to get close to women who are fully self sufficient because we will throw you the side eye quick for the same reasons a successful man would: ‘what do you want, me or my money?’ Not all of us want to compete with you. We are just used to running the show in our families,especially if we are single moms. Give us the space to grow to trust you and in time we will allow you to be the head of the household if all is meant to be. Relationships are about knowing that both of us contribute certain things to the table. You have your role and we have ours. You may be the head but we are the backbone. Neither of us can survive without the other. Learning to be ‘We’ when you’ve been ‘Me’ for so long takes some time to adjust to. Bear with us.

4. Just because the last woman couldn’t see your potential doesn’t mean the next woman should have to pay for her lack of vision. Don’t assume that because your ex thought your dreams weren’t worth anything that all women are the same way and should be treated as such. We want to have your back and to be that ride or die chick you want us to be, however you have to show us that you are truly doing something with your potential. At some point you need to put your career as a rapper in the hobby section of your life (at least until it actually takes off) and get a day job to pay the bills. If you have been in the studio recording your demo for the past 10 years, we are going to look at you a little suspect. We look to you for security and if you keep jumping from career to career it makes us nervous that you can’t provide for the family as well as puts us in survival mode (i.e., Independent Woman flag alert). We don’t have a problem sacrificing for the family temporarily (we work while you go to school) so you can help provide a better future for us. If we feel like we are partners with you for a common goal for the greater good of the family, in lean times we’ll eat top ramen and hotdogs because we know at some point we’ll have steak and lobster. We have thoughts of you pulling a Waiting to Exhale on us (we sacrifice, you gain then leave us for another woman) however if you make it clear it’s all about you and her and your family, all will be well. Be realistic with your goals, let us see that you are working towards achieving them and we will be the Bonnie to your Clyde, no doubt.

We all know relationships are hard work but what we all must understand is that we are all molded by our past experiences. We’ve all had less than positive relationships and if we all wipe the slates clean, treat each person as an individual and not as a representative of their gender as a whole and not as someone who deserves to deal with our past baggage or clean up the last person’s mess, we would all fare much better. Instead of thinking outside the box, live life as if there is no box. She is an individual and so are you. We can only take responsibility for the mistakes we make as who we are and not for anyone elses.

"A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man should have to seek Him first to find her." Maya Angelou

Diss-Connect

Now, y'all know I never, EVER post on the weekends. But, today warrants such a momentous occasion. I'm a supervisor at a retail distribution center. I was out sick yesterday. So, I go back today and realize I may be able to skate out early. Good start, right?

It turned sour in a hurry...

We have a meeting with our people, every morning, to give out the assignments, read off safety numbers, and any other pertinent info that our people can use. Usually, this goes off without a hitch, with me even injecting a little humor. Y'all know how I am.

Today, was VERY different. I was just about to part my lips to say, "Let's have a safe & productive day!", when one of my associates says loudly and sharply, "Can we go 'head and stretch, so I can get to work???" You think I went off? You do. It's OK, you've seen my rants on Twitter. But, no. I kept my cool, until after we stretched.

I approached the offender, discreetly to tell him I needed to see him for a sidebar discussion, as I knew something was going on with him. He's a great worker, so I was just gonna let him know that he could confide in me, if indeed he had a problem. As I approach, he gets loud AGAIN! "Can I talk to my dude, here? Back up off me!" REALLY!? Mind you, MY boss is standing no more than 15 feet away. Great support there, Boss... I've been in leadership positions most of my life, even as a kid. So, being the unflappable quarterback, again...I stayed calm and let him finish his little convo, while giving him the "you know it's about to go down, don't you" look.

I pull him to the side, and ask, "What's goin' on with you, brah? You're out of your character and in your feelings. This ain't you." He tells me he was "just ready to get to work" and didn't feel like all the info distributed, wasn't necessary. I told him it's not just for him, and that going forward, he's going to have problems, if he's going to act like that. I gave him more than a fair shot, right? So, he half-heartedly says he understands, and I turn him loose to go on about his work.

An hour later, I start to notice that 3 different times, this cat is stopped, talking to other associates. I approach again, and tell him, "Dude, I understood what you were saying about wanting to get to work. What I need you to help me understand is, how you gone get it done, when every time I look up, you're chillin'?" "I'm just talkin'. We all do a little bit of talkin'." Understandable. I don't crack the whip, like that. Usually, I don't have to. I got a great crew. Arguably, the best in the building. I reply, "You were the one that wanted so bad to get your work done that you felt like you had to be disrespectful. Remember, you ain't for all that talking..." Now, I probably shouldn't have said that, and just went on and hit him with paperwork. I know that's what a lot of you will say. But, even though my gears were grinding, something inside told me that wasn't going to solve the issue.

I go to lunch, so I can breathe and get right. Otherwise, we likely both lose our jobs today. In a recession, that wouldn't be a good look. I'm sitting outside, so I can vent, via Twitter. Dude walks up on me, and I continue tweeting. He says, "Man, I just wanna apologize. I know what I said was disrespectful. I got some things going on at home."

Me: "I accept that and appreciate the fact that you stepped to me, like a man, and accepted your responsibility in the matter." I continue tweeting.

Him: "I don't blame you, if you write me up."

Me: "Hey, you gotta eat that one, brah. You still good with me."

I don't know why, but a lot of cats wanted to talk slick today. I had to handle another supervisor, in a meeting. I tried to help this fool. I'll tell y'all about that one tomorrow, or Tuesday...

By the way, notice I kept the same song for this one...