Wednesday, May 4, 2011

For real tho? Lil Wayne/Jennifer Lopez Team for New Video

Gas is high. Osama bin Laden is dead. Jennifer Lopez music videos are back on and poppin'. Tell me this ain't end times - I dare you!

I can't speak for you, but I've been eagerly waiting for the Grand Emperor of the Troll People (Lil Wayne's official title - The More You Know!) to tap the eff out - if not from having 40 children a quarter, then at least from spitting a random "Carter" on the track of anybody willing to pay him in Rap Snax and QPs. Nivea and Lil Wayne need to hook back up so he'll be distracted...

And that's my colorful way of saying this shit right here is tragic.

Have. A. SEAT.

We won't address the brand placement - after all, you didn't think Jennifer Lopez could afford the dancers from the Coming To America bridal intro scene (I see your "She's your queeeeeen to beeeeeeee" steez about three minutes in...) on her not so lucrative salary as a washed up red carpet barnacle did you? Or did you think J Lo perfume sales were making it happen? *snort laugh*

For the record, I have always thought JLo was fabulously cunt and sick on the dance floor. Especially back in 1994 when she was most relevant as a Fly Girl on assorted In Living Color episodes. Yep, back before I had a period, she was the shizz. Mmmhmmm. Back before the Interweb.


Your time has come. And gone. What are Jennifer Lopez babies doing right now? Oh yes - WEEPING PROFUSELY.

When I witness shenanigans such as JLo and her continued career, I feel like tearing my degree in half - why mama, why didn't you tell me to focus on ass injections and perfecting my cha cha slide?

I too could have stacked my chips and saved up to rent the old set of Janet Jackson's "Love Will Never Do Without You" - covered myself in bottle caps and writhed my way to musical sexcellence.

Because that's REALLY all that's going on here.

And now, for no reason other than the fact that I get pure and unadulterated life from watching that one dancer undulate in control top tights, I leave you with the Zamunda breakdown:

When I think about the adhesives that protected my 8-year-old eyes from random flashes of peen and vajay lips I say a prayer for 3M...

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