DB Cooper Reconsidering his position on blown tabs–Friday April 11th

Almost a whole week before I hit with a these streets update. My sincere apologies, but last Friday was a mutha fucka!!

disclaimer: The happenings of Friday, April 11th are compiled from various conversations I have had with other folks that were present during this night in question. I only recall bits and pieces of the night, file this story as in all likely hood true. Due to the lack of memory on my part this will be short and sweet.

For many it doesn’t need to be stated, the disclaimer is enough, but I was OTG in these streets with Wile E on Friday. The night started out reasonably enough with a pact to not break out the plastic in order to avoid blown tabs. Spots with a tendency to lead to blown tabs were avoided. Prior to hittin’ these streets Wile E and I imbibed stoli and lemonade at a rate unacceptable for human consumption. This was all in an effort to avoid the dreaded blown tab, needless to say this was a TERRIBLE idea, akin to the following….

The beginning of the end…Upon entering the desired spot for avoiding blown tabs we promptly post-up next to the beer tub and order jaeger bombs. Again poor decision making by yours truly, which was further reinforced by the average looking bartender promptly offering us two-for-one for the whole night. Here is where the memory fades…

Now I recall getting a solid grab-up on this cute slightly more adult (not nearly as grown as the nurse from the previous week). I also recall that she was from the carribean as were her girls, I also remember trying to get Wile E to help a footsoldier out and holler at her dime piece friend but to no avail. Apparently my holler was good, we danced for a bit and then I went to straight pick-ups not some regular ish but guerrilla style. If that wasn’t bad enough, upon completion of the successful pick-up apparently I broke out in full pose…

Even, I have to admit that’s pretty fuckin’ funny!!! The night continues, I assume these women leave the spot though not out of anger or anything, I talked to the girl the next day on the phone briefly (of course I acted like nothing happened ) . And I go back to work, now this is about the time I think when Wile E’s boys from college meet up with us and so the wild kicks it up another notch, FYI footsoldiers like claiming their wild supremacy to new cats. The two-for-one’s continue. I will assume that I tried cordial hollerin’ for a bit longer but finally said enough is enough. Turn to one of Wile E’s boys and tell him to watch this… I flip out my secret weapon, the old Job ID, women love that ID no one brushes DB off when he breaks that thing out. I roll up on this 10/10, or so the story goes, break out the ID holler for a few minutes and then get straight to slobbin’. Again, this is all hearsay. I know, its hard to believe I still am skeptical other than the preponderance of evidence I have gathered through the week, including a new number in my phone under the title bdeezi (short for bustdown). This follows that I would save the number under this title if the ID worked that quickly. When I called bdeezi, the ethnicity of her name matches the description that various people have given me. So I tend to believe this actually happened… Needless to say, when the night starts out attempting to avoid blown tabs but ends in not remembering slobbing a dime piece then I have no choice but to reconsider my anti-blown tab position.

 

The epitome of a send off

Wile E lesson for the ladies….Round 1, Fight!

A send off can easily be defined as a person, place, or thing that leads you to believe certain expectations should be met, yet for whatever crazy reason, it is the complete opposite. Here’s a prime example of a send-off….

You know that girl that I met on Thursday, the one that was borderline sweating me? The one that I almost fumbled because I got too cocky and wanted to make sure I didn’t cash out my chips without surveying the rest of the chicas at the spot? Yeah, this one pulled the classic send-off move, turning the tables on a thirsty dude.

Upon getting her number, her words to me were as follows:

“Make sure you give me a call. I’d definitely love to hang out.”

So naturally, the next day, I give her a call to see what she and her girls were up to for the evening. I tried to make it as non-threatening as possible in my eventual voicemail, by referring to getting her friends to come out as well. This demographic of woman has a tendency to be kinda scary when they aren’t inebriated and what not, so I treaded lightly.

To my surprise, no call back.

Ok, cool, no problem. It was a thirsty move to call the next day, but I was trying to strike while the iron was hot. I give it a couple more days, being today (Tuesday), and I send a text seeing what she was up to this weekend to hang out. I get a text message reply stating

Bad timing, I hope you understand. Take care.

As Flavor Flave would say, “Woooooooooooooooooooow”. I got dismissed like I was sitting at the boardroom with Donald Trump. Am I a little salty? Hellmufuckinyeah, but hilarious nonetheless, because I get to write a blog post about it. She was cute joe!

Lesson number 1 to the ladies,

Don’t hold down a brother all night dancing, and grabbing me up, when you aint serious.

I have no choice to be extra aggressive the next time my feet hit these streets. Will I monopolize my time with the same woman again? Nope! Will I probably act more on the one-nite expectation? Hell yeah. Friday’s a coming and believe me, the send off will fuel my hunger this week. Stay thirsty my friends.

 

Glossary has been updated.

This message was brought you from the desk of Dr. Hank McCoy

 

TheseStreets Goes Political

**Update**: Forget what I said about Detroit not demonstrating out-of-the-ordinary ghettoness. I’ve just been informed that Kwame Kilpatrick, the mayor of Detroit, has a pimped-out Escalade that was paid by the tax payers. Whoo, Lawd!

____________________________

‘You not my daddy.’ - Monica Conyers

Now, I’ve heard that Detroit is a bit (ahem) ghetto. But, I’ve never seen anything truly outside what you’ll see in any urban, metropolitan city or down south. But, this past weekend on the local news, a clip was shown of two council members – Kenneth Cockrel and Monica Conyers – having a shouting match in a meeting. It’s so ignorant.

The BEST moment is when Monica Conyers calls her superior, Shrek! I’m fairly certain he won’t live that down any time soon. And, you can be sure sistahs will be going up to him shouting, ‘Do it, baby!’

When viewing, listen to the other sistah in the background – ‘Unnh huh, sure did’.

This exchange totally reminds me of the Dave Chappelle skits – ‘When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong’!

I question if Ken Cockrel has ever dated sistahs, because we all know that you absolutely CAN-NOT threaten a sistah – ‘I’ll adjourn this meeting’….’Do it, baby.’ You could be the sole bread winner of the house, give her money to get her hair and nails ‘did’, pay her doctor bills, support her family and still, you will be the one on the street if an (ahem) argument erupts. In the words of Mzzz. Conyers – Whoo, Lawd!

 

Wile E checking in on the 1s and 2s, the 1s and 2s Thursday, April 10th

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Wile E Coyote

This week was a real eventful one so far

Going out during the weekday is always a risk if you stay thirsty, yet have to be at work early in the AM. Despite that, the newfound freedom has afforded me the chance to go out every single day this week, peepin the street scene.

As Coop said, nothing major to post on this week, except we were out with feet on the streets. But on Thursday, we had to heat it up. OTG at its finest filled with grab-ups, disrespect, fumbles, all-ins, jukes, and attempted pick-ups.

So we get to the spot on Thursday expecting very little from a normally mild Thursday nite spot. But there were a couple of events going on, so quite a few people were already there by 1015pm.

Thirst is steady rising.

We see our favorite bartender, who DB loves more than half of his immediate family. We knew it was going
to be a blown tab nite, and we’d regret running the credit card up on shots. DB immediately
handed me 30 bones, and we knew it was time for Black Label on the rocks. Aiiiii!

DB and I talk a lil about biz, and what this weekend is gonna be, and we realize more and more
people are trickling in. This one lady sits in the chair next to me with an extra cute face. Man,
looked like Salma Hayek back in her prime. Alright, I’m exaggerating a little bit, but man, she was
cute joe! 2 seconds after she sat down, I realized she stank. Stank like if you wear old socks.

The Bruce Banner gets to the spot with his crew and at this point, DB and I are tipsy, very close
to being OTG. Then……As a good friend who sees that his friends have had quite a bit to drank, he
immediately orders a round of shots, and since I realized it was an otg nite, I order another shot
of Patron for the crew as well.

Curtains. Exit stage left. We are really faded.

At this point, we stand up and grille up anything in the spot that was lookin nice. It was lock and
load time. Bruce Banner sees somethin’, grind. DB sees something, hard holler. I realize that I
gotta get in the game before being put on blast on the blog. I see something within the Wile E
Wheelhouse, short, thick, and reaaaaaaady. She smiles, I smile back. I’m ready to go in. Aaaaaaaaaaaand.

Brucer Banner does the TheseStreets trademarked lean-back and starts jukin with her. It wasn’t a
wrench, he had no idea that I was already grilling it up, and in fact, I still had to encourage
cats to leaaaaan back on em, when you see em. Her girls were acting hard, telling us that “I only
dance with my friends” with us not even talking to her, and I proceed to give her the Heisman pose
15 times to her grille for the rest of the night like Desmond Howard (literally doing the Heisman pose, might I add).

Bruce then goes off and 2 steps later, some nice, tall liberal arts looking fille rolls up on Bruce
and he proceeds to juke with her for the majority of the night. I was looking for a pick-up set,
but it was in his best interest not to.

So finally, I’m stutter-stepping on this fille and finally, I grab up and juke up. Man, I thought
she was cute, but her juke wasn’t right, but you gotta make it work. We juke off for a minute and
then I realize that she on the dillards. So in typical Wile E style, I get too cocky and see if
there’s something else out there that may be better, better known as PPM (Poor Piece Management).

At this point, I’m sweating like Patrick Ewing in the 4th quarter, and I was interrupted by the
sound of a bottle hitting the ground right next to me. Little did I know that Coop fumbled the hell
out of his beer, squirting all over the floor. At this point bouncers are cracking up, women are
disgusted, and the fellas are cracking up. DB still maintains that it was a mild fumble, but that
bottle had velocity on it, like he did the Icky Shuffle.

I’m still out there still checking the field, where the fellas are clowning me for not getting that
girl’s digits. I’m a lil scurred at this point in time for no good reason. I fumble, hesitate,
fumble some more, and this escalation of commitment forces further fumbling. Finally I man-up, get
them digits, and we move on to the next spot.

Spot 2

I wish I had more to add to this spot, but I really don’t remember anything. I was severely otg at this point in time. I was tired, the music was garbage at first, but heated up HARD in the second half.

Lemme tell you about my boy DB.

We see these two females dancing with each other, one bending the other one over actually. As
expected, one of the females was obese and the other was very nice.. I look away, and look back
and this cat DB jumped in the mix super-hard grabbing boots, especially the super nice one. The
female was feeling this cat so decided to throw her back into it, and pop-back on him. DB powers up
and starts juking on her like he was trying to win a prize. He then thrust in so hard, so fast,
that he hurts the female with his belt buckle, and she proceeded to grab her buttocks and scream
“owwwwwww!”.

Wild

Bruce Banner and I bust this ill tag team, but my girl had the worst juking skills I’ve ever been a part of. Her dancing skills were so bad that it was consistently throwing me off beat, and I had to toe-tap and snap my fingers to attempt to stay on beat. What kept me on her? Them dd-izzles that were leaned on my shoulder that were re-diculous. I’ll never forget em.

After that, knowing I had to be at work in a couple of hours, we took off and called it a night.

 

Fumbled brew fiasco –Thursday, April 10th

DB Cooper checkin’ in with an update….

I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression that the foot soldiers weren’t in these streets Sunday through Wednesday, just none of those outings were worthy of a full post. I will get into the happenings of last night in a bit but I want to touch on Wednesday night simply to illustrate a common foot soldier occurrence for weekday streets.

Wednesday, April 9th was what we describe as a Muppets night or Muppet Babies to make the term more ignant. Now this makes absolutely no sense on its own. So here is the context. Wile E Coyote (this cat claims to be posting today but I won’t believe it till I see it) and I hit up our favorite college bar. Now the brews are cheap at this particular place but they have this ULTRA WHACK band playing 80’s cover music, fortunately though there are 30-45 min mini-sets of fire music mixed in as well. Anyway, the college bar scene allows us to peep beautiful young women but the music has a tendency to dampen our wild. Wednesday was a prime example, this girl was ice grilling me for a solid 30 seconds, now I’ll let a girl stare (I mean shit I understand its hard not to look at DB Coop) for about 20 seconds, but any longer than that and I have no choice but to grab up and holler. That’s what I did, and then this silly girl wants to start actin’ all skurrred. This falls under one of the many things I can’t stand, don’t stare and then not be serious that shit drives DB Cooper CRAZY!!!! This is where a Muppet night commences. I get on angry game, Wile E and myself proceed to start clowning any and everything around us. So, the question persists, why is a night of two foot soldiers talkin’ shit at the spot defined as a Muppet night?

I know you remember these two old ass dudes? They never added a damn thing to the Muppet Show other than to sit in the cut and talk shit. That was Wile E and DB on Wednesday.

On to Thursday…..

So, Wile E, Bruce Banner and myself hit up our traditional spot. Usually this place is reserved for Friday and Saturday nights, however there were special circumstances requiring us to make an early appearance this week. The only problem with this spot is it’s propensity to lead to blown tabs, thanks to the ill combo of waitresses that could sell just about anything (in all honesty selling drinks to a clique of thirsty dudes is beneath their sales skills). Anyway, the three of us proceed to get straight OTG, scotch on the rocks, patron shots and other random shots the waitress chose. Once we are properly out the game the wildin’ is set in motion. Wile E is on grab ups and hard hollers, Bruce Banner runnin’ around the spot on similar shit. I’m all in this one girls ear tryin’ to get her dancing, though I have to say this chick was trashy as hell she had one of those backless shirts with her bra all out, terrible look ladies, if you ain’t got the undergarments for backless gear then wear sumpin’ traditional. Anyway, Wile E seems to be making ill progress on one dime piece and he’s on good two-step game. I grabbed a brew from my favorite waitress and was hollerin’ at her for a second, Bruce B makes his way over to our area to catch his breath. Then the unexplainable happens, that gyot damn brew slipped right out my hands a la Rex Grossman.

Now its bad enough to have some shit like that happen at the spot in front of some nice lookin’ women, but gyot damnit in front of Wile E and Bruce B!!! These cats would not let that fumbled brew go, I’m still getting text messages and emails about that shit as I write this damn near 15 hours later. So you can imagine the clownin’ I got in the 15 minutes after the fumbled brew fiasco. You woulda that this was the mess I made:

So of course, you know I was determined to vindicate myself for such a party foul. My hollers got that much harder, my grab-ups more focused. This had a trickle down effect on Bruce B and Wile E to the point where the favorite spot could no longer contain our wild. It was off to a tried and true wild out spot for a late Thursday night. More drinks were purchased, while we waited for the music to transition to unapologetic pick-up style house. Once the DJ made that switch, the foot soldiers went to WORK. Our footwork was polished, grab-up and grinds were working to perfection. It was a solid ass night of wildin’ only cut short by the fact that we needed to go to work in a few hours. I ain’t got many of the details of what happened at spot #2 hopefully, Wile E will fill us in. Regardless it was a perfect warm-up for the coming weekend….

 

Barack Obama and Ozwald Boateng: The New Black

‘You got to smoke it!’ – Ozwald Boateng

Barack Obama is going to open a lot of doors for you brothas professionally, and in the way of some good ass, once he’s elected to office so be prepared. And, I predict, Obama is going to become a fashion icon in men’s fashion, as well.

I recently read an article about his progression in dress. A journalist noticed that the junior Senator from Illinois was getting quite audacious with his wardrobe choices; his preference for ’shiny suits’ was becoming more apparent as the primaries labored on. The journalist, who happened to be white, was insinuating that O was a pimp (which we already knew) and I’m sure he couldn’t help but envision what a Barack presidency would look like as an African-American:

Space

I, as a woman, prefer Barack looking pimpish. He looks cool and suave and maybe would be a little rough with you if he needed to be. Umph! I swoon. You see, women have a special affection for these type of guys. Since we can’t bring a real N-I-G home, complete with cornrows and packing the latest rod, we’re definitely on the lookout for an educated one, especially one in a suit (and everyday wear) with a thug flair to it.

Obamas’ shiny suits remind me of an African-born designer based in London. His name is Ozwald Boateng. Ozwald makes a classic tailored suit, but he is most famous for his way-out-there collections and his ‘high-color’ suits (initially made popular by our neighborhood pimps). He’s dressed the likes of Jude Law, Laurence Fishburne and Mick Jagger. He outifitted Jamie Foxx for the 2004 Oscars, which he won for Ray, and has cut a silver suit for Ryan Seacrest. Ozwald is mad respected in the fashion world and has even been featured in an episode of Sex and the City - ‘But can he pull off a fuchsia Ozwald Boateng shirt?’ Stanford Blanch asks. The O (the London based one) has made it.

Now brothas you have to listen to me. White boat shoes are making a comeback and being a Brooks Brother’s pimp is going to be all the rage. Don’t be like a ‘certain someone’ and scoff off my fashion directives, then weeks later sport them like they’re your own. (I’m waiting to see if he’ll be the first to hit the streets with my lastest bit.) N-E-Wayz…

Although Ozwald is ahead of ya’ll young brotha’s time, I hope you can take pieces of his collections and/or ideas and make them your own. Hear~me~now – I wouldn’t be surprised if Ozwald became O’s primary designer in the Black White House.

If you can’t appreciate his fashion, definitely appreciate his words and movements. The brotha is smoooooth… ‘This is it, bay-bee.’

The Collection: http://www.ozwaldboateng.co.uk/main.htm

 

Introductions: They Ain’t Talking ‘Bout Me

‘Don’t be like that.’ - Black Mamba

There she was in all of her glory – booty popping out of her coochie shorts, long cleavage hanging peeking out of her low-cut halter top, three-toned hair swept up in an updo weave with cascading curls framing her face, back-in-the-day bamboo earrings glistening in the golden sun, cellulite stretching as far as the eyes could see, inked art on her breast and arm, nails…done (complete with jewels), teetering on 4 1/2 heels that clearly weren’t from Manolo Blahnik’s, Jimmy Choo’s or Christian Louboutin’s newest collection – strutting down the Daytona Beach catwalk boardwalk like she was Naomi as her admirers ogled and tried to grope her.

‘I’m just a bad bitch.’

The True ‘Baddest Bitch’

The filmmaker, who was producing a hip-hop documentary about masculinity, sexism, violence and homophobia in rap music, was in Daytona Beach for that year’s Hip-Hop summit. He called her over. The segment he was filming was called Bitches and Hos. (You see where I’m going with this?) He asked her how she felt about rappers referring to women as bitches and hos. She replied, ‘I don’t care ’cause I know they ain’t talking ’bout me.’ (Close your mouth.) I…was…speechless. She was poised, confident and – do I dare say it – a bit haughty. She was the baddest bitch and no one could tell her otherwise.

At first, I thought Ashton Kutcher was punking the filmmaker. Then I realized this female was utterly clueless. She had no idea how she appeared to the outside world. Although she looked the part, whether she was a bitch and/or a ho was unclear (more on that in another post). Mzzz. Daytona Beach made me wonder how many of us women are in her shoes and don’t even know it? So, when the creators of TheseStreets asked me to blog about TheseStreets from a women’s perspective, I jumped at the chance. The last thing I want is unassuming women ‘who don’t know any better’ to end up on one of the foot soldier’s blog and be described as thirsty or smashable.

I personally know all of the foot soldiers and believe me when I tell you they are exceptional guys. But, they’re still men. (I didn’t say dogs, I said men.) And although they know I’m going to tell you how to flip the script (or just not bother with them), don’t think for a minute they believe my words are going to put a wrench in their game. They know that a lot of women are like Mzzz. Daytona Beach. The moral of the story? Don’t be like that. Now…let’s get to work.

 

Damn, I love you tube

D B Cooper checkin’ in again. The glossary is much appreciated cuz half the time I don’t even know what the hell y’all are talkin’ about. But I’m here because of my obsession with you tube. If I’m not in these streets, I’m on my computer looking for ridiculous videos and I came across a good one today fellas. I’m sure many of you are like me and miss the Dave Chappelle Show, when all else fails I can just peep old clips when I need a good laugh. But I found this Dave Chappelle re-mixed video and it is…HILLARIOUS…

This video has all the elements: Charlie Murphy’s ignant commentary, footsoldiers, April O’neil getting slapped silly, Raphael in a trench coat kickin’ cats in the face. Gyot damn this video is HOT FIRE!! I give it five fiya balls!!

So based on my love of you tube, I’m going to start ranking videos 0-5 fiya balls. Let me know about a you tube link in the comments, I’ll peep it and every now and then I’ll drop a you tube video on y’all. Be warned though, if it’s whack I may post it anyway just to clown.

 

Glossary by Dr. Hank McCoy

Disclaimer: given the sheer number of expressions utilized, and the level of analysis required to properly represent the profundity and elasticity of the respective terms, I ask that you bear with my associates and I as we undertake the time consuming process of attempting to illuminate these phrases and guiding principles.

Synonyms: As synonyms are inherently functional equivalents of other words, when particular mantras are roughly similar the following format will be employed:

1) original phrase under investigation (also written as, (“a.w.a.”)).
A) synonymous phrase
i) notable distinctions between the respective phrases.
a) Examples, (“i.e”), which will be employed as necessary, to elucidate any remaining confusion that may result from attempting to reconcile the terms from a ’squares perspective’.

That said, based on my independent analysis of the terms I’ve seen to date, I believe the following to be the definitions attributed to the nuanced terminology featured (warning, these definitions are convoluted):

1) Do work (a.w.a., ‘dew werk’, ‘du wurk’, and of course, ‘do weezi’): The ultimate instigating phrase, where the inciter frankly demands that an individual proceed, with whatever activity it was in reference, certainty, but more importantly ‘fervently and immediately’

A) Syn.: “do sumthin’” (the word ‘do’ in this phrase exhibits all the permutations noted above, however sumthin’ can be also be written as, sompthin’, sompin’, somp’n, som’n, sumpin’, sump’n, sum’n, and yes. it may even occasionally be written as plainly, do something).

i) Not. Distinctions: ‘dew sum’n', despite being traditionally used in a similar manner as ‘dew werk’, represents a lower standard of conviction, fervor and expected activity to reach the ever important, “clique acceptance threshold”.

a) i.e.: (both said to a person vacilitating drinking any further at a club):

‘Do sumpthin’ = Go buy a drink and stop acting indecisive.
‘Dew werk’= (At the very least) Go buy several strong drinks for yourself, or a round of unnecessarily strong drinks for yourself and your cohorts with the expectation that more are to follow.

2) Thirsty: (a.w.a. thursty, thirstee, thurstee, dat’ thirst, etc.)…Ah yes, thirsty. In the Thesestreets ™ context ‘thirsty’ is not synonymous with being dehydrated or the physical state where a person may feel compelled to imbibe some other beverage. Instead, it references the other aspects of thirsty, such as notions of mental eagerness and/or physical yearning. However, these notions are directed towards satisfying another desire, the desire to be around men or women who are ‘available’.

A) Syn.: “Eager” (a.w.a. ee-gur, egur, etc.)..

i) Not. Distinctions: Thirst, as with any qualititative assessment of a person’s state of mind, there is a large spectrum of variation in how thirsty one person is versus another. Thirsty is the superlative of eager. They are used in similar contexts, however, eagerness denotes a lesser degree of urgency.
a) i.e.: setting, a person has an article to submit to their editor in 12 hours and has at least 8 hours of work left to do and their friend(s) invite him/her out…”hey ___, let’s go out, I know a great spot”..
Eager Response: “Damn, I’d love to, and you know I would normally, but I can’t right now. I simply have too much work, sign me up for tomorrow evening, though.”

Thirsty Response: “Damn, I’d love to, and you know I would normally, but I can’t right now. I simply have too much work……….fuck it, I’ll be ready in 10 minutes.”

3) Grab-ups: (a.w.a. grabs, grizzles, etc.)…contrary to the first image that may come to your mind when you hear, ‘grab-ups’, it is merely a means of asserting one’s interest and assuring an audience to one’s concern given the peculiar context of their interaction. Amongst raucous crowds, or in places where the music is deafening, actively ‘grabbing-up’ is essential to ensuring that one can efficiently acquire that persons attention without having to resort to yelling over the music or similar barbaric means of communcation.

a) i.e.: Once the person’s attention is acquired, the concern can be versed, in varying degrees of intensity, in the form of a question, comment, or subliminal message communicated via body language, such as: inquiring about that persons relationship status, the ethnicity of their past boyfriends or even something simple like; ‘may I get you a drink’; comments such as ‘I think that dress looks great on you’ or ‘you dance really well’; or even body language like, dancing towards someone or the often used, but rarely recommended, stare….

4) Fumbles: (Tiki barber’ing, rashaam salaam’ing, blipta-blipta, etc.)…the meaning of the word fumble is actually fairly consistent with the typical definition. A fumble is when a person has something (item/situation) wrapped up, literally or figuratively, and then inexplicably loses that item, whether it be a full out drop and loss of possession, or a temporary fumble and recovery (bobble) due to their actions or inaction.

A) Bobble….(Related terms to discuss later, Poor piece management, upgrading)

i) A Bobble differs from a fumble because although it entails the dropping or mishandling of an item/situation, there is actually a full recovery from the initial fumble. Typically, whether a fumble is not recovered (unsalvageable) or partially recovered is irrelevant, it is still classified as a fumble (very tough standard of scrutiny). Whether something is a fumble or not merely requires one member who witnesses, overhears, or presumes one took place for it to be classified as so, with the burden of proof being on the accused to prove otherwise.

a)i.e. Please note that there are literally an infinite number of instances where a person’s actions or inaction can be deemed a fumble. That said, here is an example:

Fumble: You talked to a young lady whose feeling you for 4 songs. Despite her feeling you, you leave to talk to another one for a moment, then come back to her after the next one disses and she wants nothing to do with you…..Fumble.

Bobble: you do the same thing, leave one who’s feeling you for another, but after being denied by the new girl, manage to recreate the same vibe that you disrupted by opting to leave the young ladies company and you carry on with the original girl as if it never took place….bobble…