#TeamBlaria, it has come to my attention that country singer Brad Paisley and rapper/actor LL Cool J pressed the snooze button on their common sense by teaming up to do a song about race relations that has the intellectual complexity of grade school children. In short, Accidental Racist‘s message of “I’mma white dude from the South and golly gee, racism is kinda cray cuz I have to think about shit and instead of being ig’nant all the time. This. Is. Hard. For. Me,” is a steaming pile of gorilla doodoo. And for LL Cool J to co-sign this buffoonery like it’s a bank loan for his starter home makes ask the Lord to give me the strength of squirrel monkey holding onto a mango not to slap the shit out of LL Cool J’s dad’s balls for creating a person who would not only agree with Paisley’s sentiments, but also contribute an atrocious verse to the song. If you haven’t gotten a chance to peep the ridiculosity of Accidental Racist, don’t panic, because this lil negress is going to give you a Blaria-fied breakdown of the this five minutes and forty-two second song. Let’s get to it, shall we?
What I’m about to say may sound a tad creepy, but here goes. My uterus oven is not preheated to 375°with the hopes of some baby batter aka jizz being inserted in it, but every time I see lil miss Quvenzhané Wallis being interviewed, I feel like a proud mama and wish I had a lil Quvenzhané of my own. Ever since I saw her wonderful and touching performance as a six-year-old girl named Hushpuppy who struggles to survive in post-Katrina New Orleans with her father, I’ve read and watched every interview she’s done and been bowled over by her charm. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Today‘s Tamron Hall was quite effusive with Wallis during their interview and expressed that she want to take her home with her. Simply put, e’erybody kinda wants to be Quvenzhané’s mama. And when you wanna be someone’s mama, you always carry around some fruit snacks, a renewed sense of hope for the future, and a jar of Vaseline, just in case you have to fight a bitch who gets hella ignorant with your child. And today, the bitch I wanna fight is satirical newspaper The Onion who tweeted a vile “joke” in which they called Q a “see you next Tuesday.”
At first, when I saw the tweet, I responded the way I did when I called Cablevision to cancel my landline, but they kept trying to persuade me to keep the landline by saying that if I did, they would throw in the Starz network of no additional charge (Starz, really? I’m pretty sure I’d pay y’all not to give me that piece of shit station):
But after the initial rage passed, I immediately grew sad like when I listen to a musician’s album on Spotfiy and every song on the CD is available except for the biggest hit and I keep clicking on the song in the hopes that it’s going to magically start playing, but it never does:
Finally, after going through all those emotions, I thought, “This is why I’m glad I don’t have kids.”
#TeamBlaria, despite being a film buff, I had decided months ago that I wasn’t going to watch Beyoncé’s Life is But a Dream documentary because I’m wary of self-directed or “behind the scenes” movies of famous people because they tend to be nothing more than vanity pieces rather than insightful, interesting, and engaging. Yet, the full court press my Facebook friends put on me in hopes that my inner film geek would override my misgivings was similar to the kind my bf does when he knows I’m trying to eat healthier, but comes home from work and says, “Sweet potato pie is made of sweet potatoes, so it’s not like you’re really eating dessert. Open your mouth,” while doing this:
In short, I had no. fucking. choice. So as soon as I got back from my trip to San Francisco, I caved in and watched the documentary. And boy, did it do nothing to change my opinion that 97.8% of all self-directed “behind the scenes” movies are little more than fluff pieces. I mean, Life is But a Dream‘s hour and twenty-five minutes running time could have been condensed to thirty seconds tops and the title of the doc could’ve been changed to the following:
Because despite all promises of information being revealed, literally everything that was in the movie has been on Beyoncé’s Wikipedia page for months and months: she’s independent. Duh. She knows how to pose for the camera and look gorgeous. Of course. Jay-Z is her best friend. Obvs. She fired her dad, who had been managing her career from day one. Um, yeah, that tends to happen once you find out your dad was deep sea diving his dick into other vaginas that don’t belong to his wife’s. Tell us or show us something we don’t know, B! Well, to be fair, she did try. Take a gander at this empty statement from Bey: “I’m a human being. I cry.” Ugh, if you have to say this aloud, chances are that you’re about as deep as a transgendered woman’s vajayjay, which is to say not very deep at all because, generally speaking, transgendered women’s newly factory made vajazzles tend to be about as shallow as the tiny ass gutter leaf guard on the roof of my parents’ starter home. Before I go any further, I just want to stress that this isn’t a case of me sipping on haterade. I enjoy Bey-Bey and think she’s a hard worker who can dance and sing well enough to have the career she has. But based on this doc and countless other interviews she’s done, she comes off as utterly bland and relies too heavily on platitudes in hopes that they sound revelatory. And I don’t know if that is the result of her laser-like focus on having a music career her entire life at the detriment of developing into a multidimensional human being or if it’s just because she suffers from “Hot Personitis” and simply coasts on being hot enough to make people’s boners go full-mast like flags at a military hero’s funeral. Whatever the case may be, as a fellow performer and a movie buff, I was greatly disappointed by the documentary.
#TeamBlaria, I waited to see Django Unchained, or as I like to call it, Jangz, until last night because I learned my lesson two years ago when the parental units and I watched Sad Black Women, Vaseline & Chicken Grease better known as Precious on Christmas, resulting in our entire car ride home consisting of this:
Because if the misery of that movie is TMTH (too much to handle), then there was no way in hell me, Ma, & Pa Robinson were going to make it through Jangz. After all, unlike a scoop of Cool Whip, white people saying nigger does not go well with you and your mom’s slices of sweet potato pie. Yes, I do bring homemade baked goods to the movie theater. #DontJudgeMe. Moving on. The point is that I saw the movie and guess what? When it was over, despite some idiot bloggers’ “fears,” I didn’t want to get my Nat Turner on and kill a whole bunch of white folk. Nor did my boyfriend (he’s white) and I have a long only-in-a-Hollywood-movie-drawn-out-discussion-about-race-and-America-that-resulted-in-us-breaking-up-but-not-before-I-rage-danced-Rosie-Perez-style-out-of-his-life. Instead what did happen was that my brain overloaded with numerous adjectives as I tried to process what I just watched. I mean, Jangz is messy. Disturbing. Funny. Sad. Cray cray as fuck. Upsetting. Unrelenting. Crackling with energy. Sweet. Moving. Visceral, which, above all else is what I imagine was one of, if not, the main goal of Jangz. To throw the harshness of slavery directly in our faces, so we’re forced to look at it. And, finally, the film is a little bit of a bummer for me, but not for the reason you think. Let me explain.
Scarlett Johansson. Two Broke Girls‘ Kat Dennings. Princess Kate Middleton. What do all these ladies have in common? They’re showing their silver dollar pancake nipples and boobies to the world. Whether it’s an “accidental” photo leak to get attention, or someone hacked into their phone, or paparazzi straight up hid behind a tree and took the pictures, famous White lady boobs are everywhere to the delight of plenty of guys and some women. And since nekked pics are becoming more and more of a trend amongst Hollywood starlets and other famous women, I figured I’d provide some dos and donts about the world of chesticle portraiture.
(Note: this post is slightly NSFW. So please don’t allow yourself to get caught reading this when you should be autosumming in Excel.)
DO: Make sure the pictures are tasteful. Think Kate Winslet in Titantic and less:
During the painting scene in the movie, Kate was nekked, but still wearing her finest jewels: the Heart of the Ocean necklace. So do it up! Put on your finest pearls or a flower in your hair a la Billie Holliday. However, under no circumstances are you allowed to rock a scrunchie like Honey Boo Boo’s mama in the above gif.
Alright, all you Columbos and CSI: Miami David Carusoes, put away your L.L. Bean trenchcoats and black Ray Ban sunglasses because I have just solved the latest mystery: R&B singer and all around scumbag Chris Brown is a horrible waste of oxygen. But, Blaria, you may ask, when he used the lyrics “Double your pleasure/double your fun” from the Doublemint Gum jingle in his song Forever wasn’t that definite proof that he should’ve ended up in a Kleenex tissue with aloe, right? Eh, not so much. I sing that jingle to myself when I get a second serving of grits on a Sunday morning. Okay, well, what about when he threw a chair through window after a bad interview on Good Morning America? Or the time he beat his then-girlfriend Rihanna to near death in 2009? Yes, both of those incidents are very despicable and horrible; however, it’s his latest shenanigans that have convinced me that him ending up in a Kleenex tissue would have been too good of a fate for him. He should’ve perished on a greasy and wrinkled Arby’s bag that has been on the floor for two weeks, but he didn’t. And I blame his mama for that. Because her vajayjay should’ve done this when her husband tried to spooge in it:
Instead, her vadge was like:
So here we are some twenty-three years later all because her vajay were playing cute, coy, and innocent like it’s Zooey Deschanel. But last I checked, unlike Deschanel, vaginas can’t play the ukelele. So Ms. Brown, you ain’t Zooey! You ain’t even her sister who stars in that TV show Bones. Unfortunately, what you are is responsible for co-creating, the biggest douche bag of the past ten years who does shit like this:
TMZ reported (Note that I’m using the word “reported” loosely with TMZ. Their website basically has the feeling of “Psst! Listen to what Pookie and ‘em had told me”) that Minka Kelly, Friday Night Lights actress and on-again/off-again girlfriend to Derek Jeter, has a sex tape:
Wait, fellas, you didn’t let me finish! Apparently, Minka was underage when she taped that mess:
Yeah, that’s right. You better do like Jack Black in the above .GIF and kick your boner off the bridge before Chris Hanson comes knocking on your door and tells your ass to sit down so you two can talk.
Happy Friday, #TeamBlaria! Serious question for the Black readers of this blog: Any of y’all wanna come over to my apartment this weekend and help me unbraid my cornrows? Sorry, White people, including my boyfriend, I don’t trust you with my hair after seeing this debacle four years ago:
Which is not to say there isn’t a place for Zahara’s ‘do. There is:
However, I’m just going to Trader Joe’s, not being torn apart from my sister, so I’d like to look like my hair has said “‘Sup?” to a comb before, nah mean? ANYWAY, my hair situation ain’t no concern of yours! Let’s get down to what really matters: Fred Willard, comedian and actor of such hilarious movies as Best in Show and A Mighty Wind, got arrested for taking his peen to the palm prom (aka jerking off) while at an adult movie theater and then was fired from his hosting gig on PBS’ Market Warriors. This is ludicrous!
So I yelled out, “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!” ~ quote from an anonymous woman who heckled Daniel Tosh during his set for talking about rape jokes and then lived to blog about it.
Sorry, Jane Doe. Comedy is subjective and any joke can be funny. Note the word “can.” Any joke can be funny, but not any joke is funny. Any joke has the potential to be hilarious to you, but more importantly, the joke has the potential to not to be funny to you, but to SOMEONE ELSE. I think that people often forget that fact when watching comedy. Just because it is or isn’t amusing to you, doesn’t mean everyone feels the same way.
What lead up to the exchange between comedian Daniel Tosh and a female audience member at the Laugh Factory is another example of comedy being subjective. Of course, following the exchange, she blogged about it (a girl after my heart), and as things on the internet are wont to do, the blog post picked up steam and went viral. If you haven’t read her post, you can click here. Basically, Tosh was talking about how he thinks rape jokes are funny and Jane Doe didn’t agree with him, so she heckled him with the aforementioned quote. To which he responded with the following: “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now?” Then Jane Doe and her friends left the show. Yeah, that situation turned awkward.org/donations real quick. When I heard about it, I was immediately reminded of Dave Chappelle’s bit about Michael Richards (aka Kramer) and his n-word tirade at an audience member who heckled him during a stand up show:
Hol to the ler, #TeamBlaria! I’m back in town after a nice vacay with my boo
and I have a multiple question for ya. What did my bf and I do while in Puerto Rico?: A) hiked in El Yunque, which is the only tropical rain forest in the U.S. National Forest System, B) frolicked on the beach and got minor sunburns, C) while Ginuwine’s Pony played in the background, I said to him:
or D) all of the above. If you guessed “C” then you, my friends, are wrong. Eddie Murphy’s Whatzupwitu was playing in the background. Kidding! “C” didn’t happen. You guys are gross.
Moving on. A lot happened during my hiatus last week. The BET Awards, Chris Rock pissed off a bunch of people with his racial 4th of July tweet and Malia Obama turned fourteen years old. Holy shit. Seemed like yesterday that she had Rudy Huxtable pigtails and now she’s probably begrudgingly sending President Obama (or more likely, someone in his camp) to the store to get her tampons like Lucy sent her dad Rev. Eric Camden on that episode of 7th Heaven…You know that awkward moment when you accidentally out yourself for watching 7th Heaven? Anyway, that awk moment doesn’t have anything on the most amazing thing that happened last week, which was rapper Frank Ocean intentionally outing himself in a letter entitled “Thank Yous” that he posted on his Tumblr.