All the things that Tiger did wrong: A guide to pimping hoes and being a billionaire without getting caught up...

...And not ending up killed by a crazy bitch you gave the A++ Dick game too. Which is a no no. Why you giving A++ Dick away all willy nilly? That shit is reserved for Christmas, Anniversary, and Festivus boo boo.

We all know everyone has a freaky side. Of course it's usually the ones we least expect it from who have a whole closet full of freak ass freak in them. Although it’s still hard to imagine Tiger Woods (of all people) saying, "I want to f*ck the shyt out of you, you dirty whore nigga lovin bitch. You want this Tiger dack down your throat? A healthy dosage of Tiger uppercut?", he sort of did. Kinky.

All professional athletes have hoes. Even Kobe has bitches. He just has smarter ones (with ID) under contract to shut them the f*ck up. Marrying a million dollar man, extra pussy is definitely and more than likely included. Does Kool-Aid need sugar? Thought so.

A bitch on the side will get everything her heart desires. She just has to work on two things: A quick kneel and silence. It's all about balancing and stabilizing the pussy on the side so there isn't any confusion or swinging gold clubs.

First of all, call your hoes through a burner (temporary, pre-paid cell phone for the urban illiterate) and never leave voicemails. The whole voicemail situation is baffling anyway. Where in the game do you wait for your hoes to call back? Exactly.

Messing with white crazy women will always get you in trouble. Invariably use black or minoritybroke or bougie women and keep them on payroll in order to keep the peace. Don't forget to change your number every couple months and have a rotation of five hoes every two months, only keeping one as your bottom bitch. Never, ever say, "I love you." Bottom line, don't get attached or catch feelings playa.

Throw lavish parties and invite your hoes. This ensures they sleep with other men you know and takes the heat off of you. Know when to cut contact for a few months ignoring hoes and keep the wife satisfied. One major thing Tiger made the mistake of was lying. You can't lie to women. If Elin is that naive of a woman he should have told her from the jump.

And last but not least do not get killed by your side piece or main lady!!!! NO! DO NOT DO IT! IT MAKES NO SENSE FOR THESE WOMEN TO LEAVE YOU SLUMPED AND LUMPED IN A CORNER!!!

Chris Henry

“Fell” from the back of a pickup truck, killed by fiancé. Why did you jump in the Truck Chris? We know you got ups, but you argued with the WRONG one. Let her drive off, she’ll come back…you got money.

Steve McNair

Shot in the face by side piece. Why did you have a piece around your side piece Steve? Always strapped is a song, not a real lifestyle Steve. Plaxico went to jail. You got shot in the face. They getting rid of you nigras one by one in the NFL.

Arturo “Thunder” Gatti

“Hung himself” after an “altercation” with his wife. Police let her go. Why? Cause she was smarter than you Thunder. Shoulda used that thunder down under to subdue a bitch but noooooooooooooooooooo you snapped your own damn neck...

Playas, please have an entourage. I know pro ballers are dumb, but where are the nigra posses? Where is that illicit friend known for getting hoes in and out? See above all the advice given, get you some hanger-on’s that know how and when to do the things you should but can’t do because of endorsements and your squeaky clean image. Every good girl has a whore friend. Every nerd has a bad ass gangstalicious cousin. What happened to Tiger’s? Kobe’s? Shaq’s?

This is in no way advocating that people cheat or have extramarital affairs. Nope, not going down that road. You signed that dotted line, gave away your right to fuck random broads (except for Will and Jada. Weirdos, but smart.), tough it out anti-playa. But please be smart Mr. or Ms. pro athlete/rapper/local celebrity/lime-light. Because we will laugh at you. We’ll mourn you, but we’ll laugh. Trust.

In conclusion, there isn’t any true way to handle side pieces/jump offs/hoes/bitches/i.e. f*ck buddy. You can have an extra bff, string along Stedman, and let everyone believe that you’re bi. Or maybe, just maybe, be faithful to your wife/husband. Cuz Lord knows we need more of Ozzie Davis and Ruby Dee and less of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee.

This post was written by MsPuddin, inspired by the thoughts of Rob Holliday (B.K.A rmhoffa, but uses his legal name since he’s on a radio show and HAD to put his freakin link right here.) You can also find it here, along with some more ignant shyt.

Accessorizing Your House = FAIL

I was minding my own business today. Really I was. I was just sitting in my cube, drinking my tea and working. Yes, actually working. That was until someone sent me this…

What the fuck is this? Extreme Makeover: Hood Edition? I know if somebody did my house like this I would scream in horror instead of excitement. Louis Vuitton is cute as a purse, ok on your nails and just borderline wtf-are-you-doing on the inside of your car, but this shit right here???

*extra side eye*

Please feel free to throw in a few words, a caption, an explanation, etc…

Would you rather...

...be a single parent of 14...

...have eight kids and your partner cheats on you...

...or find out a child you've been parenting for years was never yours in the first place???

Love will choke you and throw you down some stairs if you let it...

I have a friend from high school, who has been dating her boyfriend since high school. A few years ago they packed up and he moved her from sunny California to Oregon, closer to his family. Nine years together and I wouldn’t necessarily call him abusive, but when asked when they’re getting married he says things like, “I’m never going to marry that bitch” or “Ha, yeah right.”

Not understanding why the person she had devoted so my of her life to over the years thought so negatively of her, my friend did what any female would do, she complained.

“If you don’t like it,” he said. “Then why don’t you just leave?”

Fed up, my friend said, “Ok maybe I just will.”

“If you try and leave me,” he threatened later, “I will slash all four of your tires.”

So what did my friend do? She cleaned. She washed the dishes, fed the animals, did the laundry and scrubbed the floors. The next morning she waved him good-bye and as soon as he drove off to work, she threw all of her clean clothes into her car and drove back to Cali.

When she told me the story about a month ago, I was proud of her. However, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would have to stay strong.

The good news is that she’s only 24, so she still has plenty of time to start her life over…

I called her this weekend to see how she was doing. I was in town so I wanted to stop by her mom’s house for a visit. Her response was, “I’m actually on my way back to Oregon, we are going to try and work things out.”

I wasn’t surprised about the news, but I wasn’t happy.

The rumor is that Rihanna and Chris Brown are back together and everyone is angry that Rihanna went back to him.

""All the abusive men are celebrating," Highroller33138 wrote in a posting on the mtv.com Web site. "It sets a terrible example for women everywhere. Rihanna really disappointed me.""

I mean, what exactly did people expect? Shit, look how long it took before Tina left Ike.

Not to be the cynic of all people who see their glass half empty, but I expected it from my friend and I expected it from Rihanna. Most victims return to their abusers for seconds and thirds.

Eve said best, “Love is blind.”

The only thing that really bugs me out of the whole Chris Brown, Rihanna case is that these types of situations happen all the time to people everywhere and now its suddenly an issue. Ugh. Kind of makes me want to punch someone in the face.

Be Out!

I don’t know about you guys, but I sure am going to sleep better tonight knowing that Clay Aiken is out. I still don’t get the whole having a kid thing, but at least it explains why the sound of his music makes me want to go and buy shoes.

I like the gays.

Despite what some of you may think, I’m not gay. I prefer the churro to the taco. Although, I haven’t got laid since the Raiders made it to the Super Bowl, I am still a big fan of the shaboinka.

Gay marriage doesn’t bug me either. The idea of GOGA is kind of hot. Shit, Katy Perry kissed a girl, she liked it and she has a man.

Yes it grosses me out imagining a grown ass man with a dick in his booty looking back at his lover saying, “Gimme more, gimme.” However, gay sex can’t be any more disgusting than old people sex. Right?

So I don’t see why two people can’t be together just because their genitals are the same. Since the divorce rate is so high might as well give it a try.

I went crazy, but now I'm back.

A Picture of MsP the night she went crazy.

Are you there readers? It’s me, Ms Puddin’.

I had a Britney moment over the weekend. No I didn’t shave my head or give birth, but I did do some crazy shit. Too make a long story short I got into a fight with the ex in the club on Friday night. (Yeah I know, because I’m like so totally mature, right)?

Security literally lifted me out of my barstool and out of the club. On my way out, the ex had the nerve to take a Corona and dump it all on my clothes, my hair, my face, everything! I'm already getting kicked out, was that really necessary?

Ms Puddin’ was P-I-S-S-E-D.

However, by the time I got halfway down the block, I was over the argument and getting tossed out of the club, but the fact that he added that last little beer douche was what pushed me 51/50.

So I did the next logical thing that popped into my head. I went over to his house and I had a Kelis “I Hate You So Much Right Now!” moment. I fucked his shit up. Technically I didn’t really break or vandalize anything, I just made a mess he was going to have to clean up.

So now when I meet guys and they ask me that stupid question, “Why are you single? Is it because you’re crazy or something?” I can say, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy fucking bitch.”

Ironically I was wearing a really pretty black and glittery cross around my neck that night. So the next day I told my friend in the midst of everything that it somehow got ripped from my neck and was going to ask her if she would help me look for it.

She replied with a, “No, I think God ripped that off of your neck that night.”

I think she is right too. God was like, “Time out, I’m going to need that back, thanks.”

When I sobered up the next day I felt like shit. I hate this situation I’m in with him right now. I hate that it still even exists. I know that in the end it is going to be me who is going to have to grow some and make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

So yeah anyway, that's why I'm crazy...

---------------------------------------------------------

Oh! I almost forgot, on a side-positive-whole-other note. I went to go see Janet Jackson bitches!

It. Was. Awesome. I feel complete.

And I was sitting next to one of the flaming of the flamingest couples ever and we took turns screaming like teenie boppers, “We love you Janet!”

Best part of the whole concert. Must see!

Can't you see my halo?

I went on a date last night with married guy. He’s divorced now. It’s funny how things happen. My very first post on this blog was about having an affair with married guy and here I am dating him. Well let me clarify, his wife had up and left him for eight months before he met me. Why? That is their business, not mine.

Anyway, we actually had a really nice time. It sucks because besides from all the drama, him and me really have a great friendship. Yes I agree, Ms Puddin’ has bad taste in men. Yes I agree, I probably have no business giving him of all people a second chance, but he took me to Maggianos.

Fatty’s hungry, fatty’s got to eat.

Then he took me to a nice little bar tucked away where we could enjoy each other’s company. Man he had all the tricks up his sleeve that night. Taking me to a bar is like taking a five-year-old to Legoland, just heavenly, simply the best.

No sex, but I don’t regret bringing him back into my life. I think time is on my side on this one. Not to mention, the ex, (my most recent trespassing victim) called to say that he has up and moved to Atlanta. Good. Maybe I will finally get over getting drunk, hopping his fence and stalking him.

Time for MsP to find some new hobbies… sewing, pottery, cooking? I told my guy friend the other day that I was going to go grocery shopping.

He’s all, “why, since when do you cook?” And then he started busting up laughing.

Damn.

“Ok maybe I can’t cook, but I can make a mean cocktail,” I replied.

“I don’t doubt that,” he responded back.

I’m Like Totally Not in High School Anymore

It has been sooooo freakin’ hot over here the last two days. And the f*cked up part is that it’s hotter inside my house than it is outside.

Also for the last week and a half I have been getting phone calls from an anonymous number in my area. They call and breathe a little bit into my ear, before I hang up.

I got excited at first. Yay, I have a stalker, maybe they will bring me some Starbucks or something. Then I got irritated as they continued to play on my phone. So I texted the number asking who it was. They texted back, “don’t worry about who I am, but I know who you are.”

I’m like, “that’s great that you know who I am. If you want to converse then speak up when you call me, otherwise stop calling my phone!”

Crazy anonymous stalker texted me back, “I wasn’t the one calling you, my boyfriend Mike Perkins is the one who has been calling you.”

At first I panicked. Oh sh*t, did I get drunk and leave my panties at some guy’s house? I racked my brain, Mike? Who the f*ck is Mike Perkins? Then I started laughing. He was the hot bartender at my old job. The one who I’ve flirted with, gave my number to, but never hung out with. Besides, he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. Men. I think they are programmed to say, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Right.

So anyway, I called him and I’m like, “Mike, is your last name Perkins?”

“Yeah”, he said, like he already knew what was up.

“Um can you tell your crazy girlfriend to stop calling my phone?” I asked.

“I know. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. We haven’t been together in awhile. She’s trippin’,” he replied.

What do you mean it's out of your hands? You better handle that, homie.

Great. Just great. It’s cool. I think I could take her…

Another reason why my mom is pretty awesome...

I’m sorry ya’ll, I meant to post last night, but my couch ate me. I woke up with the longest string of drool hanging from my mouth and an imprint from the remote control on my forehead. I guess that’s what happens after eating a box of jumbo candy, some popcorn, pizza and washing it down with soda. (My diet starts next week, so don’t trip, I’m good).

Speaking of good, I sure did get my mom good yesterday. She was the only one I knew who would fall for all that April Fools mess.

I was lying on the couch when my roommate came home and tried to tell me my car was messed up.

“Girl, go outside and look at your car, it’s bad,” she said. “No I’m serious girl. Go look at your car!”

It’s not that I didn’t believe her, but my butt was too lazy to get up off the couch to see what had happened to it.

“Damn,” she said. “You’re too hard to fool.”

“Oh! Now I get it, you were trying to trick me,” I said.

I had forgotten all about April Fools day.

“Hmmm”, I said. “I know who we can get, my mom.”

What should I tell her? I’m pregnant? No. I got a tattoo? No. (I really did get one recently that she doesn’t know about yet). I don’t want to give her a heart attack. I know, I’ll tell her that I ran away to Vegas and got married. No, I tell her that all the time, she wouldn’t believe me.

So I called and told her that I spent all my rent money on my hair. Do you know that she believed me!? Dying, because she was really about to Western Union me some money.

Damn, now I feel bad.

Ms Puddin’ Needs Jesus

Today at work one of my male coworkers invited me to go to church with him and his family on Easter Sunday. I’m flattered, but f*ck. The last time I went to church, gas was under $3 and I think Jesus laughed at me.

I have a love/hate relationship with church. I love how refreshing and uplifting it can be, but at the same time I hate how it can make me feel like I walked in the building wearing OJ’s glove. I guess I feel that way because I never go. Also my mom being Jewish and my dad a Christian, has left me a bit confused. While I’m sitting there listening to the pastor preach about so many positive things, all that is flashing in my mind is my debauchery from the night before. (Whoops). But wait, isn't that the point? To free yourself of your sins?

I’m pretty sure my coworker invited me as a “friend”, (I wonder if he is trying to tell me something) but I know his family goes to a really prestigious church. I prefer to go to one of those “come as you are” churches, so no one will say anything if I come hung over, in jeans.

Plus my whole wardrobe is black, wtf am I going to wear? Is a tight, black skirt to skanky? Too funeral? Should I hide my tattoos? Do I really want to get up at 8 a.m. on a Sunday? Ack! I think I’m going to have a panic attack. I told him I would think about it. What do you think? Should Ms Puddin’ go and get her praise on?

Maybe I will meet the Easter bunny ;p ...

Tis' the Season

Every year my mom, who is also a writer, takes a little bit out of each of our lives and shares it with friends and family. This year I was a little offended reading the holiday letter, because my mom wrote that I have a bizarre sense of humor. My sense of humor might be a little different, but no one in my family has any room to talk when it comes to how talented and disturbingly entertaining we are.

Just last week my dad called to tell me that my mom had got her foot caught in the strap of her purse while trying to get out of her car. She fell onto the sidewalk and clocked her face on the driver’s door trying to get back up, giving herself a black eye. My dad is already on crutches, because he recently fractured his ankle. So he was sitting on the passenger's side looking over at her like, “what is going on?”

Mom, my sense of humor might be strange, but you sure are talented.

In the holiday letter she also wrote about my baby brother. The poor kid is the last of the siblings, stuck at home with good old mom and dad. At sixteen the kid just got his drivers license and an iphone. (I guess my mom really wants grandchildren)...

Anyway, at my parent’s house, in the kitchen, there is a walk in pantry. My mom wrote about how my brother managed to lock himself into the pantry just before dinner. (The doorknob is broken and he knows it. He was messin' around and got stuck in there). While my dad went to find a screwdriver to take the door off and get my brother out, my mom heard a muffled voice from inside, “Mom, I’m going to have a cookie, OK?” He actually managed to jiggle the doorknob and get the door open shortly thereafter. (“Was it all just a ruse to get a cookie before dinner,” my mom thought to herself).

My mom also wrote in the holiday letter that she went on a rant about how bad soda is. “Soda is not food, it’s one of the worst things you can put in your body,” my mom said. My brother replied, “No Mom, crack is one of the worst things you can put in your body.”

Touché.

My other brother goes to school in southern California. In May my mom received an email from the school, warning parents that there was an outbreak of syphilis on campus. Parents were encouraged to remind their son or daughter not to have unprotected sex. My mom forwarded the email to my other brother. He called her and said, “Mom, everyone’s parents are calling them about that email.” So she said, “Well just promise me that you will have protected sex.”

He replied, “Mom, I promise I’ll have as much protected sex as possible!”

My family, gotta love them…

Doing a little back to school shopping...

I was doing some online browsing over the weekend and I picked up on some of the latest Hollywood trends...

Sporting the Baby Bump (Serena Williams and Halle Berry are also knocked up)...

Rockin' the Anklet (So cool! So exclusive! Only comes in black, but how convenient)...

Tacky Hair Extensions (looks even better when the tracks are showing, yum!)...

Happy shopping children! Don't spend all of mommy and daddy's money on one bottle of liquor and one line of coke. Splurge!!!

A Sex 22

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it... I can resist everything but temptation." -Oscar Wilde


So it’s official.
I’m a hussy.

I’m the other woman that is screwing your man on the glass table in your dining room. I was enjoying it too. Until I realized I would be stigmatized for the late night phone calls, the expensive dinners and receiving great head. I prefer to keep my sexcapades with men that don’t have someone bitching in their ear or potentially me.


I don’t think that my immorality is entirely my fault either. I plead guilty.

I mean if you take an oath with God, yourself, or your wife and have filled out the paperwork of commitment, shouldn't your fidelity be guaranteed? I’m not saying all men are cheaters. Although, with my luck and this particular experience, married guy had the audacity to go out of his way to meet me.

I fell for the sweet lines, guilty pleasures and missed the fact that he was not wearing a wedding ring. Then one random day over breakfast married guy casually tosses in the fact that he’s tied down with a wife and a mortgage.

I mean wtf!!??? “Oh by the way would you be mad if I was married?” doesn’t exactly go well with bacon and eggs.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when he told me. I guess my red sanity flag should have gone up when I was invited over and exposed to white walls, instead of photos framing portraits of family and friends. I visualized the places married guy and I had become one in his condo. The intimate shower romp, the rug burns from the carpet, the knotted-up sweaty bed sheets. I remembered how I would lick the juices from his lips after he’d tasted me and him cuming all over my back whispering praises in my ear.

Married guy then tells me (after ruining a perfectly good breakfast) that he just wanted to see if he “still had it”.

Still had what exactly? I guess he wanted to see if he had the ability to screw me from behind and her in the heart. And in the midst of everything blaming me for making a big deal out of the situation.

You have got to be kidding me!!!

It’s like I have a big stamp on my forehead or a flashing neon sign on my back. (OK this is turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy). I mean don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy being single. However, I for sure don’t want to see my future as the innocent housewife wearing Steve Maddens instead of Manolo Blahniks.

Men are either bad boys or too damn nice.
Can there not be an in between guy. I want to meet my in between guy. One who makes my toes curl, who is soft on the inside and rough on the outside. I want him to come with a big f*cking bow wrapped around his mouth, so I don’t have to listen to his bullsh*t.

Is that too much to ask? Can’t we compromise? Can he be physically and emotionally available? Baggage free, so that I can enjoy the sex, without thinking of his wife crying in the back of my mind, because someone else is sitting on her man’s dick.

Some men are just greedy. They want their cake and they want to eat you too. Married guy was persistent in his search for the perfect sexual fantasy affair.

"Can we at least be friends, " he asked.

"Sure," I said. "Why don't you, me and your wife go out to lunch sometime and talk about the gorgeous view from your balcony."

The affair fizzled, soon after his lame requests. There is nothing sexy about dating a married man. Nothing.