Doing Too Much Warning: Mashonda remakes Juicy Fruit

This right here is the type of shit that makes a batch wanna take to the streets with a sock full of billiard balls straight swingin’ at hoes. I mean seriously – you just gonna remake Juicy Fruit?

I mean – didn’t change a lyric. Didn’t add an additional "ooooo baby." Didn’t put Gucci on there. No. You just Google’d “Song I Was Conceived To,” printed out the lyrics to "Juicy Fruit" at Staples and headed down to the Ark Music Company for your debut? Nevermind that it’s anybody’s guess why you are taking us back to the era when Rick James wasn’t full-figured – you couldn’t AT LEAST use the robot voice or something, just to mix it up??


Mtume says this ain’t over AT ALL Mashonda. PS: Pedro looks like he will snatch a bitch weave out and throw it in the fireplace with the QUICKNESS. Be concerned!


I'm issuing a Code Booger Green “You’re doin’ way too much boo boo” alert for Mashonda, in light of her recent antics.

* dims light, screen drops down, grabs laser pointer *

My data shows that Mashonda has been involved in an upswing of foolywang incidents – a veritable blitzreig of fuggery – over the past two quarters. You'll find in your information packets a pie chart documenting the ratio of fuggery to non-fuggery as well as details of recent incidents. These include:

Exhibit A: The High Top Crotch Shot


(Note to Mashonda: That dude from Cameo – you know, the one with the shiny thang holder – called and he sounded REAL cranky…)
Exhibit B:

Love & Hip Hop |Olivia Longott |Somaya Reece |Mashonda Tifrere

The Love and Hip Hop shenanigan unfolding each and every weekend as part of VH1’s all-new “evening with a coon” lineup.

(Watch out BET – VH1 is changing the negro hijinx game. Hummin’ comin’ atcha!)

And finally,

Exhibit C: The launch of “Mashondaloyal.com” (subtle, boo) which includes excerpts from her new hardcover (!) book originally titled “Bitter: Party of One!” but subsequently changed to “Death of a Mermaid: Rebirth of a Goddess” – because that makes the most sense, clearly.

I’m personally saving up my coins for the much anticipated Blu Cantrell memoire “Tales of a Light Skint Nothin’” but that hasn’t stopped me from checking out excerpts from Mermaid (!):

One day, I skipped school and as I was walking through Greenwich Village someone walked up to me and said he liked my look. He also wanted to know if I sang and I responded, "hell, yes!" I was immediately invited to join a girl group and although the group didn't work out, that introduction led entrée into the music industry. Within months, I was co-writing and singing with the members of Full Force, who were sizzling hot from their work with Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and N Sync.

My co-writing with Full Force led to a deal on Warner/Chapell Music as a songwriter. I was
20-years old and scored a $50,000 writing contract.

(Fact check: Her bio says she was born in 1981, which would make it 2002 when she would have been singing with Full Force – an eyebrow raiser unless she was singing with Full Force while composing Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers at Wendy’s on the swing shift…)

But back to the matter at hand.

I have sympathy for Mashonda and all.
I mean, for one, bearing a name that’s clearly the result of a moms who was a Civic drivin’ potato enthusiast can’t be easy. Nor can watching your hawk-faced Arab schlong dealer husband frolicking in the province of Fierce with a beweaved mulatress be an easy pill to swallow.

It’s all so trifling and confusing and I understand that.

But these stunts and antics she’s been rollin’ out lately are just not the question, the answer OR the aftermath.

If she continues with this, I’ll be forced to issue an official Ho Sit Down decree.

After that, I catch the Bolt bus up to Harlem and straighten a batch out face to face. You don’t want that to happen. Ask Foxy.