I ain’t gon lie. Now hear this….This post right here, might get me banned from UvT for the rest of my life. I’ma let you in on a little personal side of me. I’ve known Brock and Lake over a decade. I’ve been on enough adventures with them and had enough wild times that I know what they like in women. All of you have similar tastes. I know…I know. Let me show you this chart.
Now, what you’re looking at is our personal preferences in what we like in a woman. As you can see, Lake and Brock’s preferences are very similar. My preferences overlap their preferences a lot as well, but as you can see my net is a little bigger….and a little lower. That area in my circle that Brock and Lake can’t get down with? They don’t want no parts of that. That’s for me, me alone, I’m on an island with that piece…by myself, and I’m fine with that. I like them thick!! Now my Pops is black and my Mama is white, but she got black features. That whole side of the family does. That’s my cousin on the right.
I like ‘em like that, and I even like them thicker. Now I don’t care what race you are, but you gotta have black features. Juice in the caboose. I got brainwashed for a minute out here in LA, but I finally had to cut off my last girl because I couldn’t take it. She had a face that made you want to kiss her for 4 hours straight, but the tail looked like she had been spanked continuously for a year by a pizza spatula.
Anyway, so I’m over my french vanilla’s spot last night and I spot this chick on the cover of Elle Magazine.
I said to myself, “that’s a nice face I need to see more.” Caught the name and looked on the web right quick.
Meet Tara Lynn
Now she don’t have the powerful gorilla cheeks that my cousin is packing, but I could have a lot of fun with that. I like some thick legs that I can wrestle with….
…Just hide behind the door and tackle her to the bed….
My boy is a consultant and he only works from time to time. He calls it elephant hunting, kill a job that he could eat off of for 4 months before he gotta work again. That’s how I look at this. I’m not trying to snack for a minute, I’m trying to eat for a week.
Now look. I know what you’re thinking. I see it too. She’s got a bit of a stomach. It’s a Lawry’s Salt level 7. But trust The Kid, I’d be chasing this broad around the house like Wile E Coyote chasing the Road Runner. She’d trim that joint up in a week.
So like I said, this falls outside of the intersection of Brock’s and Lake’s preferred mujer, but I know somebody feels me if you’re being honest. Don’t think it is all good though, I have limits too. If you can roll over and kill me by accident in the middle of the night, Lawry ain’t checking for you.
Ain’t enough Lawry’s Seasoned Salt in Costco to rate this one.
Ahhhhh, the folly of youth. My boy the young’n Mike Lawry is coming out of the gate swinging. As an experienced Assologist I can see the mistakes he is making from a mile away. Sometimes you have to let em learn on their own. I’m realizing that might be the burden of the Assologist…I might be entering the next phase of my tenure as the worlds leading authority on the cheeks that never smile, the father of Tailonomics, I need to give back to the kids. Sit on down right now for a quick lesson in Modern Assology.
Now young Mike might be elephant hunting, but what he doesn’t realize is that he is trying to identify a rare species that does not exist. The perfectly formed thick tail is the exclusive physical trait of the black woman. (and the occasional Asian chick that Itzdatdude from the comments finds on the internets). When you try to look for the true Whooty, you might as well be Unicorn hunting for real. It doesn’t exist, it is all just an illusion. But modern technology makes it possible. Here’s an example.
I’ll tell you what I like. I like a woman who knows what she brings to the party and is prepared to get every single possible inch out of what God gave her. This young lady has it all packed in tight. Throw on some heels and with a boot cut and suddenly the illusion is complete. You can’t let them tuck the muffin top back in and tell you it is just a muffin. You know she’s been baking her entire life and all of a sudden she can’t account for where the muffin tops all went? That metaphor lost it’s way some where in there. I say all of that to say this. C’mon man, that’s not ass, shes just got everything tucked and placed in the approximate location of ass. Like the old trick where you would show how big your bicep is by pushing it up from the other side. I know, I know, by time you get her home and out of those jeans and find out the truth it is too late to stop, I know.
Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to like. I just want to make sure you are making the decision you think you are making. That’s my duty, I’ve got to pay it forward.
Ha! I see my boy Brock is trying to son me with a Second Round TKO, LL Cool J/Cannibus styles.
Let me make one thing clear for you playas and playettes. When it comes to assology, I am a Big Homey OG in the game. I had a stallion so bad, when I walked through the Bronx Zoo, the silver backs used to bow in respect for those cheeks.
Also, check it. I’ve been around the world, sowed my royal oats and have seen enough to know that the Whooty does exist, and it also comes in a variety of flavors. Just cause you ain’t see it, don’t mean it don’t exist. Don’t limit me to other people’s limitations. But I don’t have to go across any country, state or city lines. Whooties run around this city like roaches in the projects. For example…
Jenna ain’t playing!!! Ya heard?????
Like I said, I’m not ridiculous with mine. My net is a little bigger, that’s all. I put them on that Lawry’s diet and shape up program, and put them back on the street for the suckas to come sloppy seconds. Like Red Cafe said, “I ain’t no backyard nicca, but my workout plan will make your backyard bigger.” If I wasn’t worried about her reading this and coming knocking at my door with a cleaver, I’d put up a picture of my Philijapexican – (fill-i-juh-PEX-i-cun) Philipino + Japanese + Mexican, to show you that it is possible to be thick, firm, flat stomach, junky, in jeans, out of jeans and with no rolls.
I’ll end with this. I mean, look, I like the slim goodies with the pretty face and with that thang pokin’ out. But I also like a thick trunked slim bellied Secretariat. Like I said, I have limits. If cats flip on me at my bachelor party like Hip Hip Jorge (below), it’s time to fire the best man.
Ain’t enough salt in the ocean….