Hell to the Ho!

This woman used to be called Superhead by the hip hop stars who passed her around. I call her a super homewrecker. Why? Because now that my daughter Whitney Houston has FINALLY kicked Bobby Brown to the curb, Superhead is keeping him company in L.A. if Rush & Malloy from the New York Daily News are to be believed. And you know I hope they are!

I believe in everybody owning their sexuality. We're adults, we should do what we want as long as it is consensual, and in my opinion, it doesn't make anyone a ho. Except for this lady. She's a ho. Definitely a ho. I know, because I paid her to get that freeloader out of my daughter's life so she can get back to work and make us some money. That's love, y'all. That's black love.

This one time at Camp Jubilee Jumbles...

...I stuck rosettes on my ass and got sent home.
















If you aren't a fan of "Project Runway" who watched some snooty French woman send the always irritating Angela packing, you totally won't get that joke. But that's okay, because if you don't watch "Project Runway," you probably aren't very cool anyway.

Realistic gold medal not included

I thought I wouldn't have to take out any loans for school, but our line of blow-up Olympic figure skater sex dolls hasn't sold nearly as well as one might have hoped.

*photo shamelessly stolen from far better blog, The Gilded Moose

The Weekly Cheese

Liza Minnelli is a wack-a-doo, but she seems like she'd probably be good people. Does anyone remember, though, when she was hot? I don't mean hot as in with a hot career, I mean hot as in a bit of a sex kitten? There was a period in the 80s when she stepped out of her trademark Liza mold and let pop maestros Pet Shop Boys tart her up, give her a funky asymmetrical haircut and put her Broadway butt to a disco beat. I love this song, y'all, and I love this Liza! This week's cheese is...

Liza Minnelli, "Losing My Mind"

Since I've been so nice lately...

I was going to make a comment about sending her doctor a fruit basket, or speculate on what exactly she could have, ahem, swallowed to do such damage to her throat. Then her publicist went and said it all.

Really, who am I to argue with a celebrity publicist?

Senseless Violence

Sly, whatever you do, do NOT try to take Truman's remote.

Seriously, Sly, he is bad and he will pop a cap in your ass if you mess with that remote!

Noooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sly, why didn't you listen to me?!

There is nothing more tragic than cat-on-cat violence. Right Truman?

Strong Black Woman

Sister Mary Cliff sent me the message below today to declare me an honorary strong black woman, an honor I deeply appreciate. I do have a bit of an affinity for the black women. When I get down about homophobia or someone asking me something about my cheek that is so none of their business because they're just some stupid shop girl who doesn't even know my name (breathe, just breathe, don't slap anyone), I think of the garbage women put up with and then with the racism on top of it...I really don't have it so bad.

If my girls can hold their well-coiffed heads up against hate, then there is no reason I can't hold mine up too. Keep on keepin' on, y'all! Except for Condaleeza Rice...she and her heinous Lucy Van Pelt hair can suck it.

The message from Sister Mary Cliff, a beautiful black woman if there ever was one:


Pretty is as Pretty does...but beautiful is just plain beautiful!

TODAY IS BEAUTIFUL SISTERS DAY
TAG, YOU'RE IT!









I'm supposed to send this to BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMEN, and you are one of them!!!


If you share this with other women, you will boost another woman's self esteem, and she will know that you care about her.
















Thanks for all you do.

Birfday

I don't like kids. I mean, if I see your kid and it is cute, I'll say so, but I probably won't want to spend more than a few minutes with the little tyke unless it is an exceptional child who happens to know some dirty jokes and can make a good apple martini.

The exceptions to this are my own brilliant nephews and niece, who are in fact exceptional. Caleb is exceptionally caring and sweet, Haley is the exceptional princess/evil genius who will one day rule the world, and Coby is exceptionally charming. The newest of my brood celebrated his first birthday last week along with his big sister who celebrated her 4th (and how my sister got The Princess to share her party I will never know...I can only assume that some jewelry changed hands). Conner, as you can see, is exceptionally photogenic and yet completely unselfconscious-conscious. He could kick quite a lot of tail on "America's Next Top Model," and I'd bet he wouldn't take any of Tyra's big bag of bullshit either.

"Cake? Why certainly, I'd love some! How kind of you!"

"I know we're out of forks, but I've never been one to stand on formalities."

"I'm sorry Mother, did you want some cake too?"

"Well, you can't accuse me of not offering to share."

Meanwhile, Princess Haley, realizing that she is above all of this foolishness, takes her place on her throne just as her favorite uncle taught her, and accepts festively-wrapped tribute from her loyal subjects.

My baby sister Karrie deserves much props for producing two brilliant kids (seriously, Haley is going to be the smartest one in the family without a doubt) and being a fantastic mom. The spoiling bit...well, that's kind of my fault. In my defense, I've only purchased two of the three tiaras Haley owns, and I'm sure she would be referring to herself in the third person even if I'd never been around!

Clockwise from the top (and in order of age): Caleb (5), Princess Haley (4), Coby (3), and Conner (1).

And now back to our regularly scheduled sarcasm and bitterness, already in progress.

Silky smooth cocoa butter skin

Uh-oh, looks like Wheat Puff hasn't been following the industry boycott of Cristal!



I just peed a little.

Dirty Monkey

Yesterday morning, I took my first shower in two days. Why in the world would I be so nasty, you ask? Well, our water kinda sorta got cut off. But it really isn’t my fault! You see, The Ville Water Company has yet to come into the 90s with online payments. It is the only bill I have that I can’t pay online, and as a result, I often forget to pay it as I did this week. On Friday, I had to use water from a Brita pitcher to brush my teeth. Then I slapped on extra deodorant, and wiped my face down with astringent. I dressed in layers as I tend to do with my recent bit of weight gain, and had on my baggiest jeans (again, weight gain) and a baseball cap. Later that day when I returned from campus, Craiggers saw me and commented on my ensemble, “Aren’t you afraid that since they know your age, this looks like a pathetic attempt to look like you’re in your 20s?”

In lieu of flowers, Craiggers’ family asks that you make a donation in memory of the deceased to American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Husbands.

photo from Crazy Photos

Yet another complaint

I normally dislike most of the general public, but driving really brings out the worst in me. The above poorly-executed illustration is of the very busy intersection of Bardstown Road and Grinstead Drive, a route I take on a fairly regular basis. If I could avoid it, I would because I almost always end up with a significant rise in blood pressure after passing through.

Picture it...I am the silver car coming up the street toward the Bardstown Road intersection. The light is red, and there is a red car sitting at the light. If the red car had on a turn signal, I would switch lanes so I could go around because as you can see, the orange, green, and blue cars are going to prevent red car from turning any time soon. As the red car does not have on a turn signal, however, I stay in my current lane because otherwise, once the light turns green I will come up too fast on the parked black cars and get blocked in by red car. Do you follow me so far? Very good.

Now, like I said, since red car does not have on a turn signal, I stay in my lane. However, red car is driven by an inconsiderate clod sent to this planet just to drive me insane. The light turns green, and rather than going forward, red car TURNS ON HIS F*&KING SIGNAL!!!!! As cars are whipping by me on my right, I can't get around red car, so I sit there and wait for red car to be able to turn against oncoming traffic, which he finally does just before the light turns red.

DAMN YOU, RED CAR! You should be thankful I no longer allow my daughter Whitney to carry a gun because I assure you she would have no problem popping a cap in your ass! As it is, she has a message for you.




All of this is really just proof that I should be chauffered. I think we'd all be a bit safer, and I wouldn't have Whitney getting into drive-by cursing matches.

It's true! I will!

Today I was finally called on in class. It was the moment I've been dreading, hearing "Mr. _____, tell me about blah blah blah lawyer crap." And of course, it had to be the Annhilation Prof. But you know what? I knew the answer and sounded reasonably intelligent! SNAP! We also went over the case of International Shoe v. Washington, the thrilling tale of the evolution of in personam jurisdiction, and everything she discussed, I had in the case brief I wrote, which means I totally got the case. Wanna hear about it? No? Fine, be that way! I know this video is old, but it is exactly how I'm feeling at the moment.



Well, except for the disco ball smash at the end...I'm sure I won't feel that way until my next class.

The Weekly Cheese

I was relying a bit too much on posting fun videos for your amusement rather than working for it with my own words. So, I'm not going to do that anymore, at least not on a daily basis. However, a little cheese in one's diet never hurt anyone. I know this one brought a much-needed smile to my face this evening.

This week's daily cheese is brought to us by the Queen of Hip Hop R&B in the 80s...the Dutch Queen of Hip Hop R&B in the 80s, that is. At least, I think she's Dutch. She grew up in Britain, her dad is part Native American, and she lives in the Netherlands. She's basically a human Bennetton commercial. Anyhoo, this is her biggest and cheesiest hit. Subsequent songs and albums were critically acclaimed across the globe, but here in the States we never accepted her for much of anything else but the sassy rapper girl with this song that made little sense. Gigolo sucka, it's...

Neneh Cherry, "Buffalo Stance"

The work we done was hard, at night we'd sleep 'cause we was tired.

Any of you who get that reference are meant to be my friend forever.

Today I had the pleasure of:

1) Getting up at the asscrack of dawn to read for class.
2) Taking Ming Vauze, Honda of Destiny, in to have $200 worth of unplanned exhaust work done.
3) Reading civil procedures cases that are making my brain bleed.
4) Getting outed at school as the elderly gay guy (that's a story I'll tell some other time...basically, someone thought I was around their age, and could hardly contain their horror that I'm 33!).

Yeah, I'm in a mood.

Saving All My Love For Who?!

Is the world's #1 terrorist really in love with my daughter? According to his former sex slave, Sudanese writer Kola Boof, he is. Here's the scoop from The New York Post:

Boof says bin Laden couldn't stop talking about his favorite singer and had lofty plans for her. "He said he wanted to give [her] a mansion that he owned in a suburb of Khartoum. He explained to me that to possess Whitney, he would be willing to break his color rule and make her one of his wives."

But bin Laden's murderous side also emerged in his fantasies about the pop superstar. "[He would say] how beautiful she is," Boof claims, "what a nice smile she has, how truly Islamic she is but is just brainwashed by American culture and by her husband - Bobby Brown, whom Osama talked about having killed, as if it were normal to have womens' husbands killed.

"In his briefcase, I would come across photographs of the Star [magazine], as well as copies of Playboy. It would soon come to the point where I was sick of hearing Whitney Houston's name," Boof writes.

You know, there are days when I'm sick of hearing Whitney's name too, but that is the price of being a parent, I suppose. Trading Faces pal Sister Mary Cliff asked me how I could allow all this to happen, but I want to assure everyone that Whitney is not dating this evil man. She was grounded at the time of his obsession, and I took away her Blackberry so he'd stop texting her. Suffice it to say, there will be no radical Islamic terrorist leaders having Sunday dinner at my house any time soon. I am sad to report, however, that she IS still dating this evil man:


Damn you, Osama bin Laden! You're Satan's hemorrhoid, but all that talk about putting a hit out on Bobby got me thinking happy thoughts about you for a moment!




Photo from Defamer

Makes Jessica Simpson look like Joni Mitchell

I tried to give it a chance, really I did, just so I could snipe about it fairly. I listened to previews of every song on iTunes (the things I do for you people!). And I honestly have to say that while I'd have to check to be certain, I'm fairly sure playing this CD to prisoners would be a violation of the Geneva Convention. Yoko Ono would take Paris down on "Star Search". Seriously, I have two Spice Girls CDs in my collection, so I have pretty low standards for useless fluff. That 20-times layered wannabe Gwen Stefani baby voice is like a rake across a chalkboard. Please save your money, she really doesn't need it anyway.

This CD review is a public service of Trading Faces. And remember, please help control the pet population, have your talent-free hotel heiress spayed or neutered.

K-Fed...just as bad as you thought he'd be

At last Britney Spears's gold digging husband has his moment to show us what he can do. So what can he do? As his performance at Nickelodeon's Teen Choice Awards shows us, not much.



This guy must be incredible in bed. That has to be the only reason she is allowing him to spend all her money when this is the kind of talent he has. She's dickmatized!

Trading Faces in 3-D

I may be one of the most uncool people in The Ville, and surprisingly enough it has little to do with my bag. Craiggers FINALLY got me to go see "Superman Returns" this evening. A movie described as PG-rated gay porn and I haven't been?! It's true. What he did not tell me until he had purchased our tickets online (I need to inject here how much fun it is that my husband is paying for our evening out now that I'm a student again!) is that we were going to see the movie in 3-D. Christ on a cracker, why me? Aren't my facial issues enough without my nerdy husband wanting to slap some cardboard glasses on me?

As it turns out, they no longer use cardboard glasses for 3-D movies, something I can be forgiven for not knowing considering that I also wasn't aware that anyone made 3-D movies any longer in the first place. Instead, they station someone at the door with a selection of fashionable big sunglasses that even fit over your regular specs (assuming you are visually challenged as I am).















They're actually rather fetching, don't you think? I wouldn't advise playing your guitar in the theater, though...it turns out that some patrons frown on it. The movie itself was fairly good, though not as good as the "Spiderman" or "X-Men" series. Also, I think Kevin Spacey played the role of Lex Luthor far too serious, probably in an effort to keep from queening out. The 3-D thing was more annoying than exciting. If you're one of the the three or four people who haven't seen "Superman Returns," I would recommend the regular version.

In other news...
I survived my first week in law school. In general, I'm loving my classes, but at times it sure has tested my already sketchy self-esteem. I go into class thinking I am intelligent and well-prepared, only to discover that I'm a few tacos short of a combo platter. I have determined that I shouldn't blog about specifics regarding professors and fellow students in case this blog falls into the wrong hands when I'm job hunting. However, I will say I have one professor in particular who seems to enjoy annihilating students, causing me to develop the Defensive Socratic Method. If I am fortunate enough not to be called upon, I muster up a semi-intelligent question on the subject, raise my hand, and hope that having participated in the discussion is enough to keep me from being further interrogated.




















Did I not mention that I still have the beard I grew after my last surgery? Yeah, I'm keeping it until the swelling finishes going away (probably another month or so). Anyhoo...

I keep trying to tell myself that most everyone else is feeling the same way (particularly the four students who looked like big fools in the above-mentioned class Thursday). I am also relying on three other sources for some strength:

1) Diva blogger Angry Black Bitch is giving me and everyone else love with her Bitchfirmations. I highly recommend them...they'll make you a better person, not to mention a sassier one.

2) I have constructed a new iPod Morning Self-Esteem playlist. This is what I'll be listening to on my way to class every day this week.















When I'm questioning my decision to go back to school, thanks to this playlist I will remember to ask myself, "Is it worth it? Then let me work it! Put my thang down, flip it, and reverse it!"

3) Craiggers has sent me major vibes this past week. He's so adorable...when I tell him I've had a bad day, he just has this totally sincere look on his face like, "Well, tell me how you're going to fix it," as though he just automatically assumes I'm going to be able to fix whatever the mess is and be successful because I'm a super genius. There's no doubt there at all. I have no idea what I've ever done to inspire this level of confidence, but I need to remember to be grateful for it.

Now, back to reading...anyone want me to tell them all about adverse possession property cases? No one at all? Well, y'all are no fun at all on a Saturday night!

I pity the fool who wears Gloria Vanderbilt!

God must have sensed I was feeling a bit down, and She sent me this as a pick-me-up. Some things are so funny that no jokes are necessary, though I can't help but wonder how many takes the director went through waiting for Mr. T to correctly pronounce "ensemble"?




Look at him shaking his little Mr. T booty! That's priceless!

The Daily Cheese Fab 5 Countdown: #1

Anyone who knows me had to see this choice coming.

Today's Daily Cheese feature isn't just the Greatest Dance Song Ever, it is also my all-time favorite song bar none. It has everything I love: an insanly catchy tune, glamour, campiness, kitsch, a fantastic beat, and a slight darkness (listen to the lyrics...it sounds like he's a total stalker!). I also love that the video is so incredibly cheap and gay. You will never ever hear this song in my presence and not see me dance. My tens of loyal readers, the Greatest Dance Song Ever Because I Said So is...

Dead or Alive, "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)"!



I have to confess, there was a time in the 80s that I would have given anything to look like that, sans the kimono of course. As for now...



No, I still love him, but I don't really need to have the look anymore.