B.E.Teamwork

So, after spending the day soaking up sun at the beach and the evening eating some of the BAWSSest azz sushi San Diego County has to offer, I get home and realized I've already missed 43 minutes of this year's BET Awards. But, good thing I had on my thinking lacefront cuz I came home for a second between missions to set my DVR to tape the pre-show and the Awards.

Since I'm a thug's THUG and a gangsta's GANGSTA, I can say this without fear of being sent up to the Heaven For A G, but:

I.DIDN'T.HATE.THE.BET.AWARDS


I honestly thought they did an excellent job in honoring Michael Jackson's work and legacy in the time allotted to them. I enjoyed the MJ tribute get-ups as well as the performances infused with MJ references.And the feel of the ceremony was JUST RIGHT as it was far more celebratory than sad. And for that, I'm grateful because my eyes didn't need another tear bath, man. R.I.P. Mikey-J!






I was pleasantly surprised to see ALL 6 member of New Edition paying homage to the man that paved the way for their group to be able to exist in the first place.
Besides the fact that Ralph Tresvant's voice was in immediate need of an oil change along with a dash of Astroglide by the pizzound: I LOVED the performance.
Yes, your uncle would have been able to sound like Eddie Kane trying to prove to the Heartbeats that he still had it, but would that same unc have been able to bust the kinds of moves they did while singing LIVE? 'Xactly! You can't smoke Black & Milds and live on a steady diet of Pork Rinds and crackhead pussy and expect to be great. (No Bobby Brown)
Check the 2:54-3:04 minute marks if you want to see when I got HYPE. New Edition were doing their J5 THANG.
That specific portion of the dance piece will forever take me back to Spring 1985 when we, the pre-school graduates of John F. Kennedy Child Development Center, busted the SAME dope move for our proud parents. HOLD ON!...**whispers** Or is it: "HOLD TIGHT?" **scratches naps**






I WILL say that whatever industry balls Keri Hilson has blown to get to where she is were WELL worth it. I've never seen such a spirited, exuberant display of mediocrity. But you know what, K-Hils: GET DAT GUAP WHILE YOU CAN. Something in your water ain't YOUNG. You may have pulled the wool over the world's eyes, but I know for a fact you've seen the better side of 47. I ain't blind; don't need no glasses tah see.
And shouts to her Best New Artist award acceptance speech. I like how she FORGOT she was at the BET Awards.
Bitch, you ain't graduating from DeVry. Save that shit for when you cop that "Sexiest Senior Citizen" joint. That is IF you can find a way to AWF OG Star Trek alumnus, Nichelle Nichols, first.





Ay Mi DIOS! at Tiny & Toya

Yeah, they've got a show debuting tonight on BET about the trials and trevails of being a well-taken care of Baby Muvthuh, but...other than that they reminded me of the faaassss azz 6th grade girls who had older sisters. The ones who had NO problem coming to school in the finest of Wet & Wild and Jordana facepaints and ig'nit azz weaves the beauty supply had to offer.
As a fat girl, I particularly enjoyed Tiny's ode to French Fries everywhere with her 'do. And I also was a fan of Toya's...Zzzzzzzz!






I won't mention Beyonce's Charmin Charade aka the final arts and crafts project she wore brought to us by the students of The Creole Center for Things That Make You Say, "TINA: NOOOO!" Beyonce and her Creole Crew live by but one motto:

"If you stay ready, you ain't GOTZ tah git TACKY."
Learn about it!



I LOVE Thicky THICKY's Mary Mary's "God In Me" joint.
That ish makes me pop it for Pastor at ALL times. Shout to the lovely ladies of the Lord for providing the world with another song that makes us drop it like it's hot for Akon and Young Jeezus.

SPECIAL CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENT SHOUTS TO Erica's liquid leggings.
LAWD! **dukes the Devil while MLK fanning myself** I can always appreciate a woman who don't mind getting sexy for her savior.

*********

And now...for the Rainbow portion of this post:



I ain't gon' get on my boy, Tevin Campbell, as I was trill glad to see him after all these years. But I WILL say if you look in to his eyes, you KNOW that he done seen some peens things.
Johnny Gill was making Eddie proud showed up and showed out for the evening's tribute to legendary soul group, The O'Jays. Johnny seemed especially happy to be doing something other than diddling Dr. Doolittle there. He was gripping that mic so tight that I'm sure when he returned it, it REEKED of his toothpaste, Eau De Murphy.

(Sidenote: Shouts to the decade of time I lost whilst listening to Don Cornelius. If life had a fast forward button, it would have been employed at THAT very moment. He was STROKIN'. {That's what he be doin'! Shouts to Clarence Carter!})




The moment that brought this thug to tears undoubtedly goes to:


I ain't no punk nigress, but seeing Janet Jackson choked up took my eyes on a swim down the Nile River, mayne. I can't even imagine losing my brother, then having to go on stage to make a statement for FamilySavvyFatty.
I applaud Janet's strength in such a difficult time. I send mad LOVE to the entire Jackson clan, especially Mrs. Katherine Jackson, as a mother should NEVER have to bury her child.
And...Tito: You're UP NEXT!

*********

Overall, the night was cool to me.


Ne-Yo's domepiece vocals were SO on point and appropriate. I'm glad he was there to pay tribute to The King, his obvious influence.



Oh...and shouts to the noticeably absent Chris Brown. You know shit's bad when BET won't even let you come to their project yard of an awards show. You really fucked up, kid!

**points and DIES laughing**

Emo Supremo

...Cuz sometimes the fun and games must CEASE.

And I must unleash the baneful beast brewing inside of me.

I'm killing me softly with the mundane of mediocrity
Both me and the train're headed for the tracks
And ain't nobody stopping me



*********

I handed her the keys to discourage my dreams.
Now I'm layin' on the tracks since I can't get 'em back.

*********

I need some emo chemo

...or to steamroll a MEAN ho

…or to blaze me a blizzy packin’ more purple than Dino

I'm On A Romantic Blog

Happy Emm'effin' Friday, Folks!
Thank God we made it...especially since every Monday morning I'm not so sure I can complete those 40 hours SANS bodying a fool or scaling my desk, cardigan tied around my head like a soulja rag screaming: "YOU CAN TELL I'M A SOULJA! I THOUGHT I TOLDJA?!"
When the weekend rolls around and I've made it through without spraying muhfuckas by the copy machine: I KNOOWWZZZ der' iz a gawd.

Anywhoo...Today's musical memory is brought to you by the makers of fine kanekalon and daisy dukes housing denim camel toes.

Raise your dookie braids if you remember the Dancehall Queen of Kanekalon herself, Patra? The first time I laid eyes on the gyal, getting it in her "Queen of the Pack" video, I quickly wrote her off as a reggae B. Angie B.
Then I beheld her impressive and superior "wine" skills and I was captivated.
I EVEN hopped up off my cooouccchhhh and turned my wiiinnnee on! Took a look at myself, said "You SUCK!" Yeeeaaahhh, I looked foooooliiiisshhh! AAOOOHHHHH!!!

I was instantly a fan. My hands down favorite joint from the Jamaican jooker is most definitely "Romantic Call" featuring the OG West Coast rapstress, Yo-Yo.

When the video first comes on and you see Patra sassily disrobe while menacingly mean-mugging the camera with a threatening: "My Propuhtee Iz My PROPUHTEE!" you knew you were in for some hellafied SUMTHIN'. And that "SUMTHIN':" 18 centimeters of baby hair Bad Bitches unapologetically shit-talkin' in a lowrider with **GASP; then RE-GASPS** muthafuckin' 2Pac!
"Hello, Mommy. Can I speak to Bobby?/I'm across the ocean and I'm feeling very lonely..."
Uhhm, Patch: Were you just telling Bobby's mama that you were in desperate need of a phone bone session?

Wow! This video brings back SO many memories. The part where me and my jr. high school friend, Angela and a whole cast and crew of Southeast ruffians hanging in Creekwood Apartments would REALLY get our teenage Soul Train line going was Yo-Yo's, "Take yo hands and wrap 'em 'round my waist/I know you cain't wait/UHH!/To love me like you wanna/I can't staaannnnd a man who's not a man/Too proud around his fraaannnnddsss/So Here We Go Again!"

Yo! You couldn't STOP my striped Guess? shorts from shaking it like dice at that moment. Shout out to parents leaving their homes open to fast azz teens and the neighborhood kids who knew it!
Up until that point I'd never drank so much soda and ate so many chips and processed foods in my LIFE. And, surprisingly, save for the occasional freak-off to Hammer's hip shaker, "Pumps In A Bump", we were respectful and trustworthy kids.

Shouts to Patra, y'all. I wonder where she's hanging her denim daisies these days...and if her braids have been deservingly and ceremoniously displayed in the Jamaican equivalent of the Smithsonian for forthcoming generations of Caribbean coochie cutters to enjoy.

And...while we're on the topic of the decadent dancery that is Dancehall music, shouts to whoever made THIS video. I'm over here pissing my Caciques at the misheard lyrics of Sean Paul's "Temperature." Watch this shit and pay attention to the lyrics and images flashing across the screen. I suggest you keep your toilet and its paper handy. (You're welcome.)

I'll Suck Yo KNIT

If you're reading this post, it's cuz Her Royal Headwrapstress has yet to respond to my request for tickets to her show in San Diego tonight. **pours out a LOT of disappointment**

So, to show her that I'm a TRILL live fan, NOT just a broke beezy trying to get hook-ups and shizz, I've instituted the World Famous SavvyFattyFreakMixxx3000 in honor of 1 of my fave songs of hers, "Other Side Of The Game."
(For those not versed in the Bible of Badu, I've freaked the funk of the lyrics featured in the 0:48-1:47 minute marks)

"Do I realllaayyy...want some ticketssss?
Badu, tell meeeee/What to doooo-ooo-oooo
I know you got to get yo hustle onnnnn...
You got 3 kiiiiiiddddsss
I understand you got...mad bills
But I love your sooonnngggs (Mmmm...)

What I'm gonna do when the concert's through?
I'm gonna curse my bank account and then cry real tears
Yes, I wiiillll...."

**drops mic; does the Tah-DAAAHH!**

Anything? Bueller?...BADUELLER?!!

Oh, and shouts to my ultimate fantasy man, Andre 3000 aka Benjamin Andre and his loc'd out 90s look making a cameo in his baby mama's vid. He never was really convincing in his role as a D-boy. So, instead, I imagine him as a New Age Trapper; slainging juices and berries by the kilo along with fat sacks of fine, original poetry verses and tweed knickers by the boat load. AY! OK!

Badu You Got Some Tickets?

Ok, so this is no musical memory, but it IS dedicated to 1 of THE baddest bitches in ANY musical genre. So today we'll discuss the topic that is GETTING ME SOME TICKETS TO ERYKAH BADU'S CONCERT TONIGHT.

"Why not just get your own," You ask, obviously unfamiliar with the bullshittery that is my bank account.
Cuz I'm broke. And I ain't slung enough System Security skills in order to afford the $85 wurf of ticket. **lifts butterknife to jugular** There! You HAPPY?!
Real talk: If anybody has some respectable hotastics I could pull to get that guap by TONIGHT: HOLLA AT A FAT MACK.



So file this post under "Ho Shit I'll Do For Some Erykah Badu Tickets."

1) Knit her a Dallas Mavericks throwback jersey so she can be true to her Urf Mama style while representing for her hometeam.

2) Smoke a FAT blizzy with her backstage before the concert and have her lace my tennis shoes about the kinds of Sweet Nothings she whispered into Common's ear to turn him from B-Boy to dressing like your great-grandma's couch. He's come back around NOW, but STILL...













3) Babysit her kids. I'll get a school bus and 'round 'em all up and take 'em off her hands for a few days. We'll embark upon a fantastic blessed ethereal ride and shit. I'll even tuck 'em in, but NOT before having their daddies spit hot lullaby 16s into their ears before they drift off to Dreamland. (No BET)





In the meantime, in between time enjoy this lil' ditty by Sista Knit Pants herself. I got a love of MY life, too, @fatbellybella. But Rick James wrote a song about H.E.R. so I don't have to...