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Mother’s Day Dos & Don’ts

10 May

#TeamBlaria, in T-minus two days, Mother’s Day will be hurr, which means that a lot of mamas will be giving their chillrens fake ass smiles after receiving boxes of Whitman’s Samplers/Godiva chocolate because deep down they’re thinking, “I rearranged eighteen years of my life like it was an ultimate Feng Shui challenge that was suggested by Oprah and Nate Berkus and all you got me was this?” What I’m trying to say is that for once in our lives, we need to step up for a change and do some totes sentimental, Aerosmith Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing stuff or if not sentimental, then, at the very least, something thoughtful as a way of expressing thanks for our madres not powering down and rebooting their reproductive organs when they found out they were preggers with us. So, like me, hopefully, you already have something planned, but if you don’t, fear not, because just as I helped walk you through Father’s Day last yurr (for a refresher, you can read that here), I’m back to give you my Blaria-fied tips on doing Mother’s Day up right:

DO: Just like it ain’t Christmas without a drunk bitch trying to sing Santa Baby like she’s Eartha Kitt while you’re eating a slice of sweet potato pie, it ain’t Mother’s Day unless you buy your mom a card, so do it. Mamas love cards and might even heart them more than the actual gift you purchased since for some reason, being a mother means enjoying reading a card that includes words her child didn’t write because at the bottom is the kid’s jankity ass signature that was clearly scribbled as passionlessly as I sign taxi receipts. All kidding aside, if you do none of the other DOs on this list, please heed this one because I’m recommending it from experience. One time, I didn’t get my mom a birthday card to go with her present and she straight up reacted the way I did in college when a professor would say the final exam is cumulative:
So just spend the four bucks on a card, ‘kay?

DON’T: Note, this is for people of color, espesh those of the mocha persuasion. DON’T wait until the last minute to buy a Mother’s Day card because the Mahogany and In Rhythm brands of Hallmark cards will be sold out. Then all you’ll be left with is a bunch white people cards where you have to color in the faces with a brown magic marker and write some Maya Angelou sounding shit on the inside to offset the fact that cover is of a Children of the Corn girl in cuffed overalls and skipping rocks across a lake. For realz, if your black mom gets one of these cards, she has every right to do the paper bag test aka hold the card featuring white people up to a brown paper bag and then turn to you and do the following:

Yes, even if you are a dude, your mom will tell your ass #girlbye because a card that says, “Look at these white people on swings” clearly lets her know you waited until the last damn minute to buy a card.

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Jason Collins is Amazeballs and Chris Broussard is a Summer’s Eve AKA a Douche Bag.

30 Apr

Jason Collins (l.), a center on the Washington Wizards, penned an article for Sports Illustrated about being gay, which has made him officially the first openly gay athlete in a major American sport. ESPN’s Chris Broussard (r.) is not having it.

Personally, I don’t believe that you can live an openly homosexual lifestyle or an openly– like premarital sex between heterosexuals. If you’re openly living that type of lifestyle, then the Bible says you know them by their fruits. It says that, you know, that’s a sin. If you’re openly living in unrepentant sin, whatever it may be, not just homosexuality, whatever it maybe, I believe that’s walking in open rebellion to God and to Jesus Christ. So I would not characterize that person as a Christian because I don’t think the Bible would characterize them as a Christian. ~ ESPN sportscaster Chris Broussard on yesterday’s episode of Outside the Lines following the publication of Collins’ essay.

Christopher Rahim Broussand (Idk if that’s his middle name, but #realtalk, beige people’s parents tend to give their chillrens totes ethnic-sounding middle names to counterbalance the fact that the kids have the complexion of a soy iced latte from Dunkin Donuts, so “Rahim” it is for Mr. Broussard), I’mma need you to act like a Trapper Keeper and zip your mouth shut. I mean, how dare you? Yesterday was truly a historic and important moment in American sports and in Jason Collins’ life and instead of you silently pursing your lips like you just smelled a fart that you do not agree with existing, you decided to go on national television and do the verbal equivalent of the infamous pig’s blood prom scene from the movie Carrie. No day is the day to spew intolerance, but certainly, yesterday was not. So fuck you for trying to make Collins’ life-long journey all about you. 

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Old White Lady (And Possible Pedo) Says Ig’nant Shit

24 Apr
Irene Stokes Racist Molestation

Humble, Texas first grade teacher, Esther Irene Stokes, attempts to get herself out of molestation allegations but ends up doing the electric slide straight into pure fuckery.

#TeamBlaria, sometimes when people get caught with their hand in the proverbial Toll House cookie jar, they will eat every damn cookie then vow to go to the gym later and listen to Phil Collins In The Air Tonight while crying salty tears on the StairMaster aka continue to do the hot mess behavior to its completion but promise to get right with Christ in the morning. Other times, folks will have a deer in the highlights look on their face, press the eject button, and watch their brains peace out of their heads like they’re a villain James Bond got rid of because the baddie was all up in his car, messing with his pre-set radio station (and trying to murderize him). This is one of those times.

Esther Irene was accused of acting like a 1980s DJ at a Brooklyn house party, who’s  scratching Grandmaster Flash’s The Message record instead of letting it be aka inappropriately touching one of her seven-year-old students at Northwest Preparatory Academy Charter School like. With a sweet and sensible name like Esther Irene – which, by the way, had to come from the abuelita name generator (it’s the same as the porn star name generator except instead of taking the names of the street you grew up on and your childhood pet and combining them, you take the name of the murdered character from the first episode of Murder, She Wrote you ever watched and the name of a white celebrity’s adopted Asian baby and put them together) – you think she would react like a sane person and pull a Shaggy It Wasn’t Me defense. Right? Nope! She says that she couldn’t have possibly molested this child because she’s racist and doesn’t like touching black chillrens. Um, wut? Seriously, pedos around the world are reacting to Esther Irene the way I did when my brother and I were kids and he got in trouble with our parents, but I didn’t:

image

Because the garbage coming out her face is ig’nant as fuck and all the other pedos know it. Rather than use the aforementioned and far more logical defense, Esther Irene decided to stick the landing in a vat of triflingness like she’s a gymnast going for the gold medal at the 1984 Olympics. Bitch, Mary Lou Retton you are not, so please sit your dumb ass down before I slap you upside the head with a bottle of Metamucil.

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Rick Ross, The World Probably Would’ve Been Better Off If You Ended Up a Hanes Sock Instead of Being Born

27 Mar

Rick Ross, I’mma need you to put some damn clothes on and act like you got some sense and stop rapping about rape.

“Put molly all in her champagne/ She ain’t even know it/ I took her home and I enjoyed that/ She ain’t even know it,” ~ rapper Rick Ross boasting about date raping a woman during his guest verse on Rocko’s song U.O.E.N.O. (You Ain’t Even Know It).

#TeamBlaria, I literally don’t know where to begin. I’m bubbling over with rage and disheartenment: I wanna throw up dub (aka double) middle fingers in the sky like it’s the Batman signal in hopes that Ross will see it and know how truly I’m pissed off I am on behalf of all vagina havers, yet at the same time, I want to call his mom and have a heart-to-heart like the kind you see in a Dolly Parton movie where one conversation (infused with Southern wisdom) over a glass of lemonade and cheddar dill biscuits resolves everything. Unfortunately, we know that one conversation isn’t going to undo nor solve the problem that is illustrated in Ross’ verse. Several conversations need to happen – why is bragging about rape socially acceptable, why was this song even allowed to be released, what goes on in a person’s mind to think that bragging about rape is cool and not horrifying, why some people will listen to this song and not even blink an eye at Ross’ lyrics – and they need to happen constantly in order to fix the disturbing mindset that people like Rick Ross have. It’s a serious problem. So to those people who are like, “Take a chill pill! It’s just music,” I’m going to say to you what I say to my boyfriend when he tries to wake me up in morning via boner to my back:

This is not music. This is not hip hop. This is not acceptable. It’s trifling that people are listening to and buying U.O.E.N.O. because it’s message is packaged with a nice beat; therefore, it’s somehow okay. Um, no, it’s not okay.

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I’mma Need Light-Skinned Black Models Like Devyn From “The Face” To Sit The Hell Down

25 Mar

Devyn Abdullah, a contestant on The Face, a reality TV modeling competition, says something to make that makes me go, “Negro, please!”

#TeamBlaria, today I should be throwing my winter beret up in the air Mary Tyler Moore style because unlike the straight haired mofos, I can let my hair get wet during the current snow shower without worrying about it looking like a hot mess afterwards, but instead, I’m sitting at my desk, composing a spoken word poetry entitled Bitch, You Are Blackity Black Black Despite Trying To Pretend As Though You’re Lighter Than The Brown Paper Bags That I Carry MY Groceries In. Yes, that title does not roll off the tongue, but it’s what I’m feeling right now. So what the h, e, double hockey sticks did Devyn do to make me so damn upset? She participated in a challenge on The Face, in which she and fellow contestant, Ebony, had to walk the red carpet in evening gowns and do a mock interview with resident pot stirrer and talk show host Wendy Williams. Off to the side, supermodels Naomi Campbell and Karolina Kurkova and representatives from ULTA Beauty, the largest beauty retailer in the US, were judging the proceedings. And that’s when Devyn rolled her foot in some panko breadcrumbs then deep fried it in a vat of ignorance, and inserted it into her mouth: 

Look, normally when people say ignorant things on camera, I usually respond with a combo of glee and slight embarrassment on their behalf like when I order an eight piece chicken McNuggets and the cashier accidentally gives me ten:

I’m like, “Oh, shit! This bitch can’t count,” and then like a drug mule going over the US/Mexico border, I immediately shove the two extra nuggets (wrapped in condoms, obvs) in my mouth before I leave Mickey D’s, so I don’t get caught with them. The point is that people saying ridic things on TV is usually funny and of little consequence. However, when someone like aspiring model Devyn engages in high level ig’nance by stating that she’s not a black model because she’s fair-skinned, I straight up reacted the way I do when someone I just met calls my best friend her best friend:

Like, really? You’re not a black model because you’re fair-skinned; therefore, you have an “international” look? Listen, heaux, you ain’t fair-skinned; you’re about as dark as the duvet cover that I purchased from Macy’s, which by the way, when I ordered it online, the color that was listed was BROWN and not “International Cuz I Want White People To Like Me & Be My Fwend” because Macy’s isn’t rolling in the deep in self-hate fuckery and neither should you, Devyn. It’s sad and it sends the wrong message to every single black girl all over the world, who from the time she is born and until the day that she dies, has to deal with colorism. So please spare me the b.s. you’re spewing on Twitter, claiming the show edited your words to make you come off that way. Please stop non-apologizing by saying that you’re sorry people were offended. And please stop looking for support because the fact remains that while in the presence of two beautiful dark-skinned black women (Ebony & Naomi) and in possession of the knowledge that the fashion industry is notoriously racist towards women of color, you had the audacity to state how you really feel, which is that what makes you more appealing or stand out is that you’re not really black because you’re fair-skinned, which in the African-American community, we all know is a coded way to separate yourself from the “regular” black girls. To imply that white is right and that the closer you are on the spectrum to white, then the righter you might be, right? Wrong.

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Spring Break Dos & Don’ts

12 Mar

#TeamBlaria, I never had the typical college spring break. No drunk karaoke. No slapping my booty cheeks together so they sound like I’m playing the Japanese hand game Kendama. And no saying the following to fugly dudes while holding up a lighter:

as if my turning down their sexual advances is the emotional equivalent of Coldplay playing a sad song at a disaster relief concert. Instead, I stayed in New York and braided my hair while watching old episodes of Living Single, which we all know is the black girl version of Sandra Bullock’s character in While You Were Sleeping chilling at home and feeding her cats because she ain’t got a man. But don’t cry for me Argentina because even though I never participated in SB shenanigans, friends and acquaintances would tell me tales of fuckery and triumph and I’d let them know where they went wrong and right. As the saying goes, “those who can’t, teach,” so let me learn ya something. Without further ado, here are my Blaria-fied tips on having a successful one.

DO Prepare yourself for the fact that unlike a contestant snagging seventeen packs of Bounty paper towels during the Big Sweep round on Supermarket Sweep, you might not get any peen/poon during your spring break trip. Accepting this will allow you to not be desperate.gov/askyourcongressman. Yes, I know the main purpose of SB is to get turned out like a reversible white water rafting jacket you’d buy from Eddie Bauer (aka get laid a lot), but if that doesn’t happen, that doesn’t mean the vacay was less of a success or that you won’t have any good stories to tell. Obvs, you will because you did dope stuff during the day like performing the song Where My Keys, Where My Phone and saying things like, “Oh my God, I know I just ate, but I’m sooooooo hungry.” That’s exciting shit, so if your flight back to your college campus is at 9:30am, then don’t be out in the club at 2:30am in hopes of squeezing in sexy times before you head to the airport. That means no lurking in the corner, stalking some unsuspecting peen the way I do when I think my boyfriend is hiding my birthday present in his bedroom, so I turn up the TV real loud, so he can’t hear me creeping behind him in the hallway:

Instead, find love in a hopeless place:

And sleep off your hangover on the plane.

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Shut the Hell Up, Sit the Hell Down, & Stop Asking For White History Month

11 Feb

Another day, another ludicrous thing that Victoria Jackson barfs out her mouth.

“Find a white, middle-aged Christian man today and hug him. And then, encourage him and your white Christian sons to stand up, be leaders again, and save our country from the God-hating communists like Alec Baldwin and Obama.” – excerpt from former SNL performer & current political conservative, Victoria Jackson’s now-deleted blog post asking, “Why is there a Black History Month, but no White History Month.”

Just like when I order a gift for my boyfriend from Amazon.com and then internet ads for the exact item I just bought him pop up every time mah boo uses my comp, I’mma need Victoria, Ms. Jackson if you’re ignorant, to

and return to her place of irrelevance. But it’s not just her. Since I’ve been alive, I’ve heard the question asked in a multitude of ways ranging from the half joking/half serious tone to “WTF?! Why do black people get special treatment? What about white people?” And my reaction to the inquiry has ranged from an exasperated sigh to reticence over responding because of the fact that whatever I say will most likely be filed away under “This is What All Black People Think” and I refuse to participate in the myth that all black people think, feel, and behave the exact same way. But thanks to things like Lincoln (which I had been opposed to seeing because based on the trailer, I gathered what the deal was going to be: a never-ending beej to his greatness; but due to a writing assignment, I had to watch the film last night) I was seething with rage at the gross liberties in which screenwriter Tony Kushner and director Steven Spielberg to tell the story of the passing of the 13th Amendment. So I was all but forced to express my opinion on the importance of BHM and my deep disappointment, especially in Spielberg, because he’s Jewish and should know better. Let me explain.

Ten Romantic Comedies You Can Watch With Your Boo On Valentine’s Day That Won’t Make Him Want To Shoot Himself In the Face

6 Feb

Props to all the single ladies going to every library, grocery store, and sports bar and doing the “Oh, Shit, Valentine’s Day Is Almost Here And I’m Sans Peens, So It’s Time To Send Out Some Queef Signals:

And Snare Me a Man Who Will Buy Me A Whitman’s Chocolate Sampler.” If you don’t end up landing a dude, V-Day could suck unless you happen to stumble upon a couple arguing in the street on your way home from work then you can do this:

And secretly feel better about your life. Now, all you peeps who are like me and are in a good relay lay (aka relationship), don’t go getting all smug because this holiday kinda blows for us, too. There’s too much pressure to express your love in an epic manner, spend money on overpriced flowers and dinners, and most importantly, to me, it’s damn near impossible to agree a movie to watch so you either fight about it or pick something that one of you doesn’t want to see. Generally speaking, on this romantical day, plenty of ladies want to peep a rom com, which makes their men wish they could load up their urethras with kidney stones like one loads up a Nerf gun and shoot us and themselves in the face. Luckily, that shit ain’t possible or I would’ve been riddled with K stones every time I made my boo stop channel surfing because I was like, “Oooh, is that a Drew Barrymore movie? Let’s see what she’s doing!” Anyway, the point is that this V-Day is gonna be different for all couples across the world (or just the ones who read this blog) because I’m going to help y’all pick a movie that you and your boo can enjoy. Here are ten options that are foolproof…

There’s Something About Mary

Straight up, most dudes prefer to remember Brett Favre for his funny ass cameo as Cameron Diaz’s ex-bf and not his peen picture that he sent to former NY Jets sideline reporter Jenn Sterger, in which he held his peen between his fingers like one holds a biscotti cookie. Brett, are you going to dip you peen into a cup of coffee? No? Then get your damn hand out of the pic.

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Cray Cray White Dudes Who Lurve Guns, Let This Negro (Me) Slap Some Sense Into You Real Quick

28 Jan

#TeamBlaria, ever since I attended a predominantly white private high school, I’ve had to be the Kevin Bacon to white people’s Sean Penn in Footloose:

which meant that occasionally, I was teaching them how to one-two step to TLC’s No Scrubs while heating some shit up on a Bunsen burner during chemistry class and other times it meant that I’d do this to my white classmates when they tried to touch my hair:

while eating some kale (That’s right; I was eating kale back in ’99. I’m a trailblazer, son!). Anyway, more often than not with my white classmates, I’d put on a pair of reading glasses, letting them rest ever so lightly on the bridge of my nose; a cardigan, and a no nonsense attitude similar to Florence the maid’s on The Jeffersons, so I could edumacate them about race. Today, I’ve encountered a fool so desperately in need of said edumacation. I’m talking about Larry Ward, the president of the right-wing organization Political Media, and his aggressive pro-gun views. He’s so ridic that I need more than a woven sweater and sage advice to counteract his igsturbation (that’s when you jerk off to your own ignorance). I need to hand him a Kleenex tissue with aloe, not only so he can wipe dumb ass thoughts off his hands, but also because while he’s distracted with cleaning himself off, I can slap him upside the head for his new campaign called “What Would Django Do?” that is designed to get people of color on board with guns:

 ”…Django is perfect for what we’re trying to do, which is to promote gun rights to minorities. We’ll tackle the issue on the Democrats’ own turf.”

To which all the white people responded like how I do when I realize that the person next to me on the train is watching me watch a love scene from Scandal:

Yes, stranger, I realize  that 9:45am is too damn early to be looking at this kind of stuff in public, but you need to understand that while the slogan “America runs on Dunkin,” may apply to you, it most certainly does not to me. I run on Vitamin Water Zero and half-mast boners in my jeans from watching actors faux fuck on a desk. Anyway, back to Ward. Like, really, dude? Jangz is PERFECT for your movement?

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Hide Your Bootyholes, Y’all, Cuz Satan Is Coming For Them!

4 Jan

(Warning! This post is N to the S to the F to the W, so don’t read this if your minimizing windows game isn’t on point. Ya been warned, #TeamBlaria!)

Anal Sex is Evil Guy

Joseph Sciambra, former gay porn star and “ex-gay” born again Christian, discussing anal sex in a YouTube video.

On New Years Day, Sciambra felt there’s no better way to kick off 2013 than to let the whole world know that he thinks during anal sex, the catcher in the situation is tooting demons out the butt like a New York Knicks employee shoots basketball paraphernalia out of t-shirt cannon during halftime. Aaaaaaaaaand I’m not supposed to be laughing at this foolery? Okay, well how about this choice quote from him:

The anus was never designed, even if you don’t believe in a God, uh, was never designed, um, by nature to accommodate the penis. It was never meant to be.”

Straight up (no pun intended), this vid is the embodiment of brignorance (aka brilliant ignorance). First of all, “accommodate?” This isn’t a Best Western hotel we’re talking about here. Anal sex doesn’t doesn’t place a temporary charge of $100 for incidentals on your debit card until you’re ready to bounce nor does it offer you a continental breakfast in the morning. Second of all, tons of things weren’t designed by nature for the baloney pony. Like boobs. But that doesn’t stop some bigger-chested women from wrapping their chesticles around their boo’s peen like the old school vise grip I used in middle school wood shop class to keep a birdhouse in place while I sanded it down.

So what in raggedy ass Farnsworth Bentley hell (you can’t tell me that Sciambra’s tired button down/argyle sweater combo isn’t a mess) is this dude talking about?

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