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What The?: Solange ROCs Jay-Z

12 May

ImageAs this has been my longest hiatus to date, let me first begin this post with a heartfelt, two-count apology:

1.  Firstly of course, for not being able to condense all my life’s activities into the same 24 hours that God has afforded Oprah, Malala Yousafzai and Kim Kardashian.

2. For climbing out of dormancy to bring you all this bit of breaking tomfoolery.  My husband told me that if I was going to publish this post, I should at least admit that while I do strive to advance myself spiritually, socially and through modes of learning and higher education, the God’s honest truth is that while not completely absorbed by foolishness and absurdity, I do on occasion let the clutches of ratchetness envelop my soul…a tiny little bit (for which I intend to begin my penance shortly).

Now, in the ever-so-clever words of Mobb Deep, “there’s a war going on outside, no man is safe from…” 

Unfortunately, while Prodigy and Havoc were undoubtedly pontificating about their daily struggles on the mean streets of Queensbridge in the mid 90’s, they obviously didn’t realize that in just two short decades, that war would pale in comparison to the one that people regularly fight through the medium of social media and the internet; a war in which NO ONE is spared. Apparently, this has been made all the more evident by TMZ’s recently released “surveillance” video shot (and sold by some dummy who will obviously no longer be gainfully employed) of music royalty, The Carters and Solange Knowles while on an elevator at the Standard Hotel after last week’s Met Gala in New York.  Now, I won’t pretend to know what set off Solange’s mollywop trigger (however, any person with even a rudimentary understanding of addition coupled with a little cause and effect could most likely surmise accurately on the matter…I’m just saying), but as shown in the video, your girl attempts to put in WORK on her brother in-law, while still glammed out in her coral Philip Lim cocktail dress and never askew wig!! Screen Shot 2014-05-12 at 6.21.36 PM

But for me, what was even more bizarre was the fact that although styled, tucked and taped to perfection in her peakaboo Givenchy gown, King Bey made no real effort to intervene or mediate the fracas between her sister nor her husband.  Jay was bobbing and weaving, Solange was throwing up her set, her purse and a karate kick and Beyonce stood silently, lest she crease the organza of her gown.  Seriously, it was almost as if her Ambien-Xanax cocktail chose just that moment to kick in.

I’d be lying however if I didn’t say I was impressed with Jay-Z’s restraint.  If not for his wisdom (or the constraints of arthritic knees, who knows?), the publicity surrounding this melee could have taken a much uglier turn.

So, what say ye?  Should Beyonce have attempted to settle things between her sibling and her spouse?  And, what in the world could have possibly occurred to make Solange behave in such a frenzied manner?  But most importantly, will the Carters add Solange to the line-up now and rename their tour “Family Affair”???  I imagine we will ALL be staying tuned for this one!

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Thanks Geico: Laughing Keeps the Crazy at Bay

12 Apr

I know this to be true from the very fact that I live “crazy” on a daily basis and have to giggle to keep from doing something that will have me ended up in bright orange.

Apparently, the people around me know this to be equally as true as well.  Why else would a former employee, out of the blue send me this text:

Geico

And wouldn’t you know it, once I viewed the above referenced video link from the brilliant Geico/Pillsbury Tag-Team marketing initiative, the giggles became laughter-turned-chortles and I could not help but grin like the village idiot for much of the day after that (who knew that Animated Crescent Rolls Dough and Car Insurance made a great pair?).

So for those of you with hectic schedules, nutty cohorts, insane associates or ridiculous workloads, take a second to enjoy this Friday Funny; I certainly did.

 

The Evolution and Revolution of the First Lady

25 Feb

As one of the commenters at the end of this video so eloquently pointed out; “Even if you don’t like Michelle Obama, you kinda do like Michelle Obama.”

In a recent visit to Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, the FLOTUS unveiled some pretty hot 2013 moves in honor of her Lets Move Campaign, dubbed, “The Evolution of Mom Dancing”.  And while it does look as though Lady O is dropping it low to do The Bump with Sarah Palin, Conservatives needn’t fret; tis only a lovely Jimmy Fallon in (strikingly believable) soccer mom drag.

Regardless however of what your political proclivities are, it appears that time and time again, Mrs. Obama continues to live up to the title of coolest First Lady on the planet. Ever.  I mean really, who among us can imagine Grace Coolidge doing the Charleston or Barbara Bush serving up the Cabbage Patch?

But even as a pop-culture icon, Michelle Obama has found a way to keep her finger on the pulse of popular culture in such a way that 1) her image as a political figure is able to resonate with the masses and most importantly 2) she has been able to call to and keep  attention on her platform in a way that might not have received much traction otherwise if she were not so…well, cool.  Call it what you will, but it’s that “real” and “attainable” air that has so many of us falling a little harder for her every time we see her.

Sign of the Apocalypse: Drake and Breezy Fight over Rihanna (GASP)

14 Jun

Did I say Apocalypse?  Obviously I mis-typed.  What the title of this post should have read was: Signs That I’ll Be Taking an Apocalyptic Style Nap Due to The Yawn-Worthy Gossip That Drake and Breezy engaged in fisticuffs.

Apparently said melee transpired after Drake allegedly minced no words (via a note…yep, real gangsta) about his status with Brown’s ex, Rihanna.  Now, I have no plans to sully this blog any further with a bunch of hearsay and blather so feel free to get the supposed details about this boy brawl here, here and here.

I will however close by asking if I’m the only one who saw this coming???  As far as striving for inspiration as an entertainer, I say mix creative juices with whomever you want, but c’mon.  Drake’s cameos in RiRi’s videos, their innuendo induced performances and then her recent Birthday Cake collabo with Chris all made for a very intricately volatile situation…A situation where it seems that people have caught feelings and/or never lost feelings; so much so that now folks are nicknaming Drake the Evelyn Lozada of Hip-Pop and Pretty Boy Brown is having glass cleaned out of an open wound.

I know, I know.  This is a tragic and upsetting time for all the #TeamDrake and #TeamBreezy shrieking tweens out there, but understand that this is not BREAKING NEWS as Russ Parr or TMZ have lead you to believe.  Somebody wake me up when news breaks  that one of these overexposed celebrities donates half their fortune to something newsworthy like the Clean Water Project or the End Auto-Tune Initiative.  Until then, *yawn*.

The NBA Finals: Game 1 and Why I Can’t Wait for Russell’s Post-Game Interview

12 Jun

While it is true that I (along with most Americans not residing in the Sunshine State) have become more and more enamored with the basketball team formerly known as The Seattle SuperSonics, their dominance, resilience, youth and imminent Game 1 win (crosses-fingers), is not why I am looking forward to Russell Westbrook’s post-game interview.

The truth is (just like one of my Instagram-mers @karlmeloanthony hilariously pointed out) I can’t wait to see if maybe, just maybe Russell will take his eclectic styling to another level and bless us all with this throwback Gordon Gartrell tonight!

The Measure of a Man

24 Apr

Okay, really guys?  Stop blinking rapidly and refreshing the webpage!  It’s really me!  I know that my posts for 2012 have been few and FAAAAAAARRRR between, but seeing as how we’ve discussed my various power moves as of late (promotion, anyone?), I trust that you all understand.

What’s funny is,  I’ve been a little skeptical lately as to how I would find time to get back into blogging, and if I would still have anything poignant to say, but truth be told, I’d forgotten how cathartic this practice is on a daily basis, so I imagine that I will be doing better to make time!

At any rate, with my new responsibilities and the annihilation of anything that even remotely resembles a structured daily schedule, it hasn’t only been me who’s had to adjust.  While my honey and the big Pack Kids have been supportive (who knew that after a thankless 10-hour work day, “the twins” would have warmed up left overs for themselves and run a load of dirty dishes without being asked to do so…the fact that the clean ones from the morning were still in the dishwasher is neither here nor there…), it’s been The Baby Child who’s antics have let me know how truly missed I’ve been between 8 and 6.  Whether it’s sitting up under me until bedtime, requiring that we act out the latest Dragonball Z fusion fight stances or helping me to sort his fruit juice splattered laundry, once I’ve crossed the threshold, the kid is basically not letting me out of his sight until bedtime.

The other night after I’d made him a fruit salad, The Baby Child insisted that he sit in my lap and share his fare with me.  This of course entailed serving each other all “Coming to America” style, sans the large ostrich feather fans and handmaidens.  When The Honey got home, it was all he could do not to burst into laughter.  Instead, he popped a grape and told The Baby Child that it was his job to feed me fruit and for me to sit in his lap because he was my man.  The Honey proceeded to shake his head at me, chuckle and change out of his work attire into his sweats.

After our palettes were thoroughly satiated, I convinced The Baby Child of what great quality time he could spend with me before bed by helping me to sort some white laundry (don’t judge me).  After getting half of the clothes in the washing machine, I caught sight of him intently inspecting, then snatching up a shirt and gleefully running up to his room.  Days later when I got home from work, The Baby Child greeted me at the door with kisses, an inquiry into what was for dinner and fully dressed in his “good clothes” from head to toe, but with that missing white undershirt billowing over his own toddler wear.  Taking the bait, I asked him why in the world he was wearing his father’s beater.

“Because mommy, I’m a MAN and I’m gonna get all the girlfriends.”

Uh, whaaat?

So, clearly I am not sure at what point my baby opted not to fill his father’s shoes but instead his undershirt, and in doing so, equated that with being “a man”; or even in being “a man”, that meant being imparted with girlfriends, but it is apparent that although this child is extra times ten, I must say, at least he has modeled his mini-manly self after a pretty wonderful prototype.

Now, if I could just get them both to put the seat down!

Today In Black History: My Braxton’s Ban

22 Feb

As short as the month already is, shame on me for just now wishing each of you a Happy Black History Month.  I am sure though, that as astute learners and commemoratively minded individuals that I know each of you to be, that you have already been celebrating this month in Black/American History in profound ways (like your box office support of Red Tails, your many visits to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial on The Mall, your assistance in helping all the little children at your church to learn their Black History Speeches, and of course, your ticket purchases for the New Edition Reunion Tour).

I too, have been making strides in Black History.  Namely, my self-imposed ban on the WETV reality show sensation, The Braxton’s Family Values.  Why you ask?  Well, because when I start getting mouthy with inanimate objects, it’s time to reevaluate and cut off negative influences.

See, what had happened was…Going home from the grocery store last night, I proceeded to place my purchase on my kitchen counter.  Unfortunately, in mid hoist, one of my grocery sacks broke, spilling the contents of my purchases on my floor (several jars of spaghetti sauce).  Looking down at the floor where my purchases lay, I opened my mouth in angry frustration and uttered:

“You better Get Yo’ Life!” at the marinara sauce.

Um, yeah.  The revelation came soon after that not only was Tamar’s influence not what I wanted for my life, but that I probably needed to brush up on my W.E.B. Dubois and Booker T. Washington readings before my “practicing intellectual” card ended up confiscated.

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