Oh Maggie Cho…oh…
Is it me or does it seem like the last thing ol’ crazy pants Maggie Cho needs is a warbling peacock tattoo around her arm jelly? And…are those Doc Martens in the first pic?
Oh Maggie Cho…
So Musiq Soulchild bent over and wagged his asscheeks in the open air for the charts. How ghey. His new video “Radio” and his whole -fauxhawk-tight teans swagger is so 2006. And 2006 sucked.
It’s catchy (or something) but it’s not what you go to Musiq for. Stevie Wonder could make shitty emo but like, why? If you’re gonna fake a personality, at least make it provocative. He could channel a blinged-out, tanned Marc Jacobs. That ho’s got the crazy for real.
The world’s most believeable “straight” girl (ahem) Alicia Keys is doing this right with this right here – her School Daze homage “Teenage Love Affair”:
It be real cute and all but she ain’t touchin’ this here:
Now that’s how you wear a goddamn weave, rock a goddamn dress and ack sadditty.
So lately I’ve been spending a lot of time being edgy. I mean, that’s kind of a complete lie, but I want to make this next rant a bit more picturesque. So, during my recent edgy exploits, I’ve been hanging with a lot of underground, indie, hipster-hop, exclusive tastemaker type jump-offs. Scenester 30 year-olds in day-glo windbreakers who have health plans and end up looking ridiculous bouncing to Plastic Little at Hiro Ballroom. Just sadness.
I used to wonder how Diddy could possibly fit in the closet? What, with all his velour Sean John jumpsuits and ghetto fabulous three piece ensembles? But then I saw this.
Guess he found a way.
Only next time I’d like to see him make it more believable. Shit, even those of us with mild retardation and snow blindness can see the gay just oozing out. To quote my damn self, he’s coming at you with a double sided dildo and some AIDS in his pocket so you better watch out. Plus, that shit probably smells like pine corns and dookie butter. No thank you Ms. Diddy. Try again.
So bless Kanye for being a bougie ho. Homegirl went all out for this listening event for his third LP, Graduation at some rowdy studio complex in NYC. It was waaaay underground, like some fabulous bunker in the future where glitter is a weapon of mass destruction.
As a hyper-Americanized, wayward African youth it’s completely normal for me to understand “liberal American” things like tattoos and piercings. When I was 16, I went to some shady piercing spot and got my eyebrow done, only to come home to my dad saying nothing to me but a curse word or 5 in Lingala. Mind you this lasted for months. Then there was that time years later when I came back from Toronto with a pierced tongue and my parents were convinced that I was “on the cracks.” And yes, they really did say “the cracks.”
Wow. Lauryn Hill usually gets a bit of shade from me because I’ve heard all this foolery about her missing shows and being a general stank ass. But girlfriend TORE IT UP last night in the Crown Heights, that lovely, jank-ass repository of splaboohood. Girlfriend did it so dirty, I wrote a review of it in my white voice. Lookee:
Lauryn Hill, the ex-Fugee member who captivated fans with her acclaimed 1998 solo debut, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, rocked a massive crowd in Brooklyn’s Wingate Park on Monday night, quelling fears that her talent has fizzled over the past decade.
So M.I.A. went off on those ‘mos over at Pitchfork. She was basically like, “fuck Diplo, that rowdy paleskin’ ain’t make me! He ain’t no Berry to my Diana, no Irv Gotti to my Ashanti, no peanut butter to my mothafunkin’ jelly!! I did this album with me!! And some other people, including Diplo, but NOT Diplo!!”