Now that I have your attention, ready yourself as you may - though nothing in this lifetime could prepare you for the glorious dewdrops of fugnuggets preparing to burst forth unto your screen.
Is it me or does Jim Jones' mom sound like an old pipe organ? She speaks=me turning to page 147 of my hymnal and singing Standing On the Promises.
Study Notes:
10) Is there anyone, ANYONE, who believes that Miss Chi-Cheekela La Boom, or "Kimbella" as she's currently known on Spring Street, is an XX? Girl hush. Night night, keep your tucks tight!
MC Hammer Searching for Income with New Search Engine
Damned if I didn't dream I was doing the typewriter across what remains of Ginuwine's career last night! That's the last time I watch "Life After: Light Skint Lovers Edition" before bed! Apparently MC Hammer, or Hammer, or Customer Service Agent #202 - whatever he's calling himself these days - is comin' at Google's neck.
From Media Bistro (which ain't shit for that picture, btw...)
Seriously. At first we thought Mashable been taken in by an article from The Onion, but this is really happening. MC Hammer introduced his new search engine, called WIREDoo, at the Web 2.0 Summit in San Francisco. The search engine will provide things that Google doesn’t, including what Hammer calls “deep search" a term applied both to search engine results and Hammer's career efforts over the past decade. And we don’t know what that is, but it sounds hot.
First Deion Sanders is shaming the race in all white erythang shilling DirecTV. Now Stanley's trying to bargain basement Google his way to the top.
This is a cross clutchin', standing on the promises week if I've ever seen one.
PS: I absolutely refuse to fug with MediaBistro behind this end quote:
"Now if Salt-N-Pepa would just launch a social networking site, my week would be complete."
Quietly, I hear those sisters are making some powerful moves in the shapewear industry. If you like Spanx, you'll love "Stuff Its"...
Anywho, while you were laughing at Hammer - and why not, the status of that jackal peen rat tail perched in his kitchen could launch a thousand evenings of keecackling easy - you overlooked an important fact: it was HIS WIFE, not Stanley, who was responsible for more of his fashion misgivings! Mmmhmm - the more ya know!
It's true because VH1 told me so on that hilarious MC Hammer bio movie a few years back. Stanley was happy living a lifestyle of tater tots, Oakland A's groupie hood and jiggin' for jaysus (with an occasional James Brown impression in the club for good measure) when his wife decided she wanted more than pork and beans burning on the grill.
She grabbed a throw pillow and her Singer, stitched up some droopy crotched pants and a generation of fashion fuggery was born.
It's truly a story of someone's reach exceeding their grasp; had the sister just been satisfied with his humble dreams, Stanley could have been a respectable Steve Harvey suit salesman and she could be dining on Skillet Sensations in a two-bedroom split level. Instead, she's cleaning up after 18 kids while Stanley struggles for relevance.
Yet every single time I consider forgiving MC Hammer for his transgressions (capes; the Pizza Head dude; countless sins against shoulder pads and velvet shoes over which Teddy Riley still weeps; abuse of Let's Jam gel and assorted other hair products) I recall the terror he unleashed upon us in the form of the "Can't Touch This" generation. And by that, I mean fuckshit like this:
Were you too busy being high/knocked up/imprisoned/one of Rick James' bottom-rung hoes to attend your prom? I know your pain - I was at Bodrow's Mac and Stack Shack (a combo salon and barbecued ribbery...)getting my stack curls together and damned if I didn't miss my ride to "Midnight Love: Let Me Ride That Donkey C/O 88!"
Oh the pain I have lived with!
Well rejoice dear readers - a new event will fill the void:
X Factor's Siameze Floyd Shopping Reality Show (Scroll down for preview of life...)
If you’re unfamiliar with the shimmering sex vornado of kitten heels, man cleavage and Lotta Body Wrap Spray that is Siameze Floyd (copyright 2011) consider your life empty indeed.
In case you missed it, gather your emotions, squeeze your legs together and prepare as the DJ brangs it back:
This burgeoning intersex icon took the world by storm on X Factor a few weeks back, simulatenously challenging batches everywhere to step up their unicorn/horsey kick game, while representing the Little People, Big World: Talent Division’s global debut (child hush, you were wondering about the proportions on that head too.)
What you didn’t know: Siameze Floyd was apparently raised by a harem of Rick James’ old backup hoes and is descendant from a line of “men” (shifty eyes) whose hair is laid like a canister of refrigerated leftover relaxer (you’ve done it bitch, don’t lie) and whose sexuality is more ambiguous than Nivea’s career.
Now that’s DEEP.
Oh, and did I mention that this polyamorous family which clearly shares hair products across gender lines is also hoping to share its story with the world via a reality tv show?? Feast your eyes on the preview prize and click it for Jaysus:
YES. GAWD. THAT is what’s for dinner! Can you even BEGIN to imagine the type of capoeira-style hand to hand combat that erupts when the Pink Oil Moisturizer sheen spray supply dips low in that household???!!! Chile bye - I bet that's how the other three wives died...
I for one say the time is absolutely right for this show - this is a civil rights issue dear readers!
For too long Prince as been forced to carry the load of being a spokesperson for the intersex community on his petite shoulders alone. He’s had some notable help in more recent years:
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Not to mention a couple of older gwerls:
Yet the community has remained largely underground, reliant on the occasional awards show or backup singer appearances (I see you Norwood...) to affirm their existence. And we won’t even begin to get into the trials these delicate rosebuds have suffered trying to obtain extra schmedium nuthugger jeans with adequate elasticity - another time, another place.
The production of this show would truly be a victory for the community. If you love me dear readers, call, text, email and provide sexual favors to anyone at VH1 to ensure that this spectacle of niggatry makes it to the tube.
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