Archive | June, 2012

Tyler Perry, Harriet Tubman Said, “Knock This Shit Off Already”

29 Jun

Happy Friday, #TeamBlaria! I’m on my way to a wedding in South Salem, NY (yes, that’s a real place), so I’m going to keep the message of today’s post short and sweet: Tyler Perry, your tomfoolery is the equivalent of a Native American rain dance, except that in this case, you’re not summoning rain; you’re summoning the spirit of every notable African-American to angry pop-lock Michael Jackson Thriller style over to your ass to knock some sense into you. Black people didn’t work this hard so you can create these horrible Madea movies. Okay, so that wasn’t short or sweet, but you’ll understand why I feel this way after watching the movie trailer for Madea’s Witness Protection.

In the groundbreaking film (and by “groundbreaking,” I mean using a shovel to break open the ground and dump this garbage of a movie in there and bury it forever) that comes out today, Madea hides a White family and hilarity ensues because White & Black people are so different! Like Black people say “Chicken WANG” and White chillrens throw pillows at adults because White people don’t raise their kids to respect elders. Thanks for being the worst, Tyler!:

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Louie, Louie, Louie

28 Jun

“When a black woman tells you to get a job, it’s just more [laughs]…it just hurts more.” ~ Louis C.K. on “Jimmy Kimmel Live,” discussing and joking about why he cast a Black woman to play his ex-wife even though his kids are “exceptionally white” on the show.

Over the past week, Louis C.K. has been promoting his five month tour, which begins on Oct. 3rd and the third season of his TV show Louie, which premieres tonight. He stopped by Jimmy Kimmel Live on Tuesday and of the nearly fourteen minute interview, a tiny ten second blurb about the racial casting of his ex-wife on Louie has, unsurprisingly, gotten the most attention and unnecessary outrage on the internet, ranging from the cool, steely anger of the cartoon villain singer Cee-Lo wants to be:

Why don’t you tell me again why it’s so funny when a Black woman telling you to get a job?

To acting like the stereotype of an angry Black woman in fear that Louis is merely just going to perpetuate the stereotype of angry black woman:

Neither reaction to the casting of Louis’ ex-wife is correct or necessary. But much like when a baby scans a room with his/her eyes in that I-think-I should-be-crying-about-something-right-now, the average person’s default action is being offended. “I think that pissed me off” is the new “I think I might want Chinese food later.” Said with little thought and possibly with a shrug that connotes “What do you guys think? Chinese sounds good, right? Please reaffirm me.” There’s no analysis, no reasoning, no understanding of the context that frames the supposed offensive action, just an automatic queef of rage at whatever is seen or heard much like the way in a mall, the cologne salespeople just spritzes whomever is walking past. So, people, I beg you: quit queefing rage because it stinks, it gets in my mouth, and it’s clearly a knockoff of legitimate rage.

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Freedom For Soccer Mom Madam!

27 Jun

Y’all, shit just got Lifetime movie real: accused NYC soccer mom madam Anna Gristina was released from Riker’s Island on bond last night after four months behind bars. Whoo! You just know her family was singing  Joyful, Joyful (the Sister Act 2 version, obvs) at this good news. Wearing an ankle bracelet, Anna chucked up the deuces to a Manhattan courthouse and was greeted by her husband and her nine year-old son, who showed up with a bouquet of red roses for his mama. Damn, that’s some thoughtful Love Actually shit. His mom is allegedly selling tang and he gets her a dozen roses and I’ve never bought my mom flowers. Ever. And my mom spent years straightening my hair with a hot comb. Do you know how hard it is to straighten a little Black girl’s hair when she doesn’t want to sit still? It’s like 98.7% more difficult than selling vajayjays because vajayjays sell themselves. Sorry, mom! I should’ve at least gotten you Chrysanthemums for your birthday. Anyway, check out the footage of Anna Gristina’s release from jail:

 

Pause. This long-haired, ponytailed motherfucker is your lawyer, Anna?:

What in patchouli smelling and Bob Ross landscape painting hell were you thinking? You’ve “allegedly” been running a multi-million dollar brothel for years and this is dude you chose to represent you? He’s wearing a ridiculously long ass ponytail. Male lawyers don’t have ponytails. Yes, I’m being judgmental and shallow, but tell me I’m wrong.  Dude looks like he paints women’s vulvas inside his cabin in the Catskills aka this dude looks TRIFLING.

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End of An Era

25 Jun

Before I started this lil ole blog about three months ago, I was solely doing stand up comedy; most frequently at my weekly show called Case of the Mondays (COTMons for short). I was a young Buck in the comedy game:

I was only about nine months in when I decided I need to start a show, so I could cut my comedy teefs in an exciting yet demanding environment of an English pub in Midtown East. Yes, #TeamBlaria sometimes oftentimes, in the early years of your career, you have to do guerrilla comedy shows in bars, hotels, apartment rec rooms, etc. because Comedy Central isn’t interested in you just because you’re Octavia’s daughter (my mom’s name or name of a Calvin Klein fragrance? You decide). Anyway, over the next three years and two months, cutting my teeth is exactly what I did. I learned how to host, how to riff, and how to wolf down a buffalo wing in five seconds because a comic wrapped up his/her set a minute early. And now, three years and two months later, I’m ending COTMons tonight. Cue the swelling orchestra music found in Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing aka I’m gonna be poignant for the next few hundred words and then maybe quote something in Latin Beyoncé that will truly capture the emotion of ending this journey.

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This Is Why You’re Single

23 Jun

This is how I remember being single: some days were awful like when your roommates used up all the hot water, so that when you’re mid-shower, the water turned ice cold:

While other days were amazing like during rush hour when a MTA subway conductor saw you running towards the closing doors, so he opened them for you and right before you step inside, you let him know how grateful you were:

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Top Ten Fashion Tsunamis of the 2011-2012 NBA Basketball Season

20 Jun

Y’all, I lurve, not love, basketball. It’s one of my favorite sports. It’s exciting, dramatic, and I’ve always dreamed of being a NBA coach like Whoopi Goldberg in the movie Eddie when she took over the New York Knicks after winning a contest. Blah, blah, blah. Let’s get to the real point: sure, this NBA season has been great, but the real highlight lowlight has been the post game outfits that have been nothing short of two scoops of foolishness and a sprinkle of my momma didn’t raise me with enough damn sense. So let’s toast to the top ten fashion disasters that have given my 20/20 eyeballs the middle finger in HD and then made them do this:

#10: OKC’s Russell Westbrook’s Game 1 of the NBA Finals post game outfit:

What in green eggs and ham hell is Westbrook’s shirt? The characters on it look like Dr. Seuss rejects. And, unfortunately, the only way to get a reprieve from that loud ass shirt is to look at the hipster trend that won’t die: lensless glasses. I give this look six Sally Jesse Raphaels:

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The V Word

18 Jun

Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina! Saying it 5x won’t summon the Vadge Monster nor should saying it once get you banned. I mean, it’s 2012, right? Because I don’t understand how two female State Representatives (Lisa Brown, D-West Bloomfield, and Barb Byrum, D-Onondaga) in Michigan were banned from speaking before the House simply for having the temerity to utter the word “vagina” and talk about women’s rights in public. What’s with banning stuff? Are the members of the House of Representatives solely made up of John Lithgow’s reverend character in Footloose? Should we expect that Brown and Byrum are at a warehouse somewhere in Michigan, rage dancing in Jordache jeans? Except the movie version of this political situation would be called Loose Lips. #DoubleEntendre #YoureWelcome. Of the two State Reps., Lisa Brown has gotten more attention because of the following clip:

“I’m flattered you’re all so interested in my vagina. But no means no.” Oh. Damn. That quote is the equivalent of when some White basketball player gets dunked on by Lebron James and that clip makes the Sportscenter highlight reel. Nuts (or in this case, ovaries) in yo face, House Republicans!

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Father’s Day Gifts Dos & Don’ts

15 Jun

Happy eve before Father’s Day Eve, #TeamBlaria! If you’re like me, you’re probably just chilling at home, singing along to some Anita Baker like a recently divorced forty-five year Black woman as a reward for already purchasing your Father’s Day gift. If you’re not like me, that means your procrastinating ass is waiting until the very last minute to walk into Home Depot and turn that shopping experience into a spinoff of Supermarket Sweep called How Many Fucks Do I Give About Father’s Day? None, But If You Do Not Give Me That Last Power Tool, I Will Have To Curb Stomp Your Face a la “American History X.” Not a catchy title, but it’s accurate as hell. Point is, here we are two days before Father’s Day and you haven’t gotten your pops a pressie (abbrev for present) yet. But fear not, as I’m going to navigate you through the dos and don’ts of Father Day gift buying, so that your Dad will react like this when he opens your present:

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The Audacity of Being Brown

13 Jun

“I look like charcoal. I’m so dark. It’s awful.” ~ Overhearing a Hispanic co-worker vent to a White co-worker about how it’s terrible that her tan made her the complexion of a U-Haul box.

I literally do not know where to begin. The entire situation was just such a Molotov cocktail of ignorance and self-hate. And the shittiest part was that I couldn’t say anything because it would be the first time in history someone was hella angry while holding a Cliff bar (my co-workers were in the common area kitchen and we have dope snacks). Also, I’m Black and have an afro, so unless I have a look on my face that connotes this:

People at work think I feel like this all the time:

But seriously, Blarians, I was livid and also saddened for this ethnic woman that resembling anything close to brown complexion is a nightmare that would ruin her day. That her lightly-colored skin had the audacity to get darker after she had spent the weekend tanning it was simply inexcusable to her. I mean, getting mad that the result of tanning is somewhat brown skin is like me being upset that after I, a lactose intolerant person, finish doubling down on extra cheesy pizza, I end up chanting like Angela Bassett in What’s Love Got to Do With It in hopes that will soothe my aching stomach (skip to 1:12):

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Madonna, I Implore You, Put Your Titty Away

11 Jun

BITCH, YOU ARE TOO OLD.

And I’m not saying this as some ageist hater who thinks she’s going to be forever 27, which is a lot like Forever 21 except forever 27 means that culottes aren’t an option anymore and never should’ve been, but since you were a teenager and your Mom liked to take you shopping at Sears, you quickly realized that fashion disaster was the best worst option at that damn store and now that you’re a grown ass woman, you can say S my D, culottes, ’cause I’m showing the world my knees. Anyway, Madonna, I’m also not saying you’re too old because I’m one of those people who’s over you because Lady Gaga is in the picture. No, girl, I’ll always be a fan of you, your L’Oreal because-I’m-worth-it blond hair color in a box, and your dance pop music. The fact of the matter is this, Madge: you’re FIFTY THREE YEARS OLD. Instead of popping your titties out, you should be at GNC, popping a One-A-Day multivitamin into your mouth to stave off osteoporosis.

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