Small screen fuggery: Love and Hip Hop debuts Monday (clip - and community shame - inside)

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

“My name is Chrissy and Jim Jones is my man.”

Jesus keep me near to thee.

Well don’t just stand there with a KFC Mighty Wing in your hand and a Q-tip hanging out your ear -- dial up Red Cross or toss a bucket of cold water in this bitch face or shake her real hard or something – that was a cry for help if I’ve ever heard one!

From The Root:

Love & Hip Hop, premiering Monday evening, will follow the lives of four women bonded by their connection to the hip-hop world through their men and their careers.

I'll just go ahead and addend that to include that the four women are the girlfriends of Fabolous, Jim Jones, Some Other No-Count Ninja and oh yeah, (N)Olivia, that G-Unit broad 50 and them tried to shazzam us with a few summers back.

To quote a panelist at a recent forum I shaded attended: This is nothing but a trap from Satan!

In the era of Basketball Wives, Football Wives, Housewives of Atlanta, New Jersey, Beverly Hills, New York, North Kakalakee and Sri Lanka, I guess it was only a matter of time before a “Sidepiece Jump Offs of Washed Up Former Rappers Currently Workin’ Down At The Carwash” type reality docu-soap popped off.

And yet, for some reason, my soul won’t let me believe a person would voluntarily have sex with Jim Jones. Not without some sort of body condom. I won’t act like I haven’t shook my bon bon to Pig Pen’s musical stylings in “Blow Your Smoke.” I just don’t want that ninja standing next to me.

He looks like he smells of vagrancy, Black and Milds, cheap cologne, E&J, lint and booty chips. In that exact order. AND I bet the back of his neck is dirty all to be damned.

But I digress.

There are some fairly grievous offenses here, not the least of which being (N)Olivia’s presence overall (Side note: there should really be some sort of G-Unit recovery program. 50 Cent is about as bad as P-Diddy when it comes to tossing former “stars” against the wall like a well-used condom, but I guess he’s busy trying to figure out how he’s gonna keep his own self in men’s camisoles nowadays. Meanwhile Young Buck is busy worrying about the future of his anal cavity... ).

Then there's the entire weave situation (it’s generally bad when your hair resembles spun sugar or one of those Italian pasta nests).

And let's not forget said Jones jumpoff trying to mollywop a broad in a random Den of Despair strip club about two minuts into the clip, all whilst sporting a halter top and a Jolly Rancher red bra that gives all kinds of “I got it at Ross” tea.

Those are all just the basic offenses one expects at this level of coonery.

The truest fuckery emerges when Jim Jones describes his employment as a hustler – which he spells, for the record “H-U-S-L.”

This promises to offer a smorgasbord of coonery the likes of which might very well raise Coretta, Martin AND Malcolm from the grave.

*Tosses hands up and walks away from life *

Bobby Brown speaks on daughter's singing ability - A Nigga Please Moment

What's really tea on his face in this picture? Slap an off kilter wig on there and I swear he looks like Nana.


I digress. The King of Pop (spit take) and his stroke lips are back at it, prophesizing greatness for his most well-known spawn, Bobbi Kristina. That poor child never had a chance.

From From Contactmusic

In an appearance on U.S. TV show The View on Monday (07Mar11), Brown said, "She sings like a bird. She sings a little better than Whitney and she has my legs so (she can dance)..."
And the My Prerogative singer wants to team up with his daughter on record: "I'm gonna do duets with all of my kids; they all sing and dance, so I'm just waiting for the right time to strike, you know, the Brown clan."

Yes. I'll be waiting on that.

I hate you so much right now: Waka Flaka Flame appears naked in PETA campaign

WARNING: Not safe for life.



From BallerStatus.com
GET ME MY SMELLING SALTS RIGHT NOW - I can see it's gonna be a looooong year.


To quote our prolific Lady of One Million Facial Ticks, Nicki Minaj, I doth say: Ew.
I mean, bless his heart, but Waka Flocka isn't exactly a Ford Model. And I say that to say that his situation from the neck up was already tenuous at best. Between the hair and the lips and the brow and the whole being as tall as a cell phone tower thing, he has a LOT going on.

But ninjas just HAD to throw in the Spongebob Squarepants hips. Nevermind that I'm simultaneously cramming to understand how that little corner of bling is protecting my eyes from a far more aggregious assault - yet singing "Can you feel it, brand new day!" inside that they are indeed protecting my eyes from said assault.

Meanwhile, am I the only one who feels like this could be an LA Fitness ad? Waka got a body like a tube of toothpaste. How you just not have ANY muscles - even the ones required to walk? Put a coat on!




Think about how many groupies came home, dropped their draws and waited patiently in the bed for THIS to round the corner.

DO NOT WANT.

I suppose I could support this young negro scribe for taking a stance against animal abuse – but I make a point not to get mixed up in too much ball queen drama, so instead I’ll just sit in the corner quietly sipping my Shirley Temple and wait for Michael Vick to bust through the door and CAT this ninja for the open shade.

Ink not Mink eh? Expect Gucci to pass on the sentiment AND the campaign.

And the world breaths a collective sigh of relief.

New Ginuwine Video (mmmhmmm, that's what I said...)

*consider my pearls CLUTCHED*


I will temporarily disregard the fact that this man is clearly wearing a wedding suit ... or that these video heaux appear plucked from Lennox Mall ... or that from the looks of this "set" (In Riley voice: Real niggas don't have budgets!) some family in Ft. Washington, Md. was PISSED when they came home from vacation.

I can set all of that aside.

But did this ninja just say “You are my driiiiiiiiiiiink of choice"??????

Did he just say “I take you straaaaaaaaaaight with no chaser”????????

Because I’m about to break the glass on this cyanide pill I keep in my purse, if that is indeed the case.

Look into their eyes -

THE ANCESTORS ARE NOT AMUSED ELGIN!!!!!!

You know, I’m a firm believer of knowing when to fold ‘em. And when you last were a poster on someone’s dorm room wall in the previous millennium, I would argue that a fold is necessary.

Ok, Ok, let me be fair. I think it’s great that the stars of my pre-period high school years are finding their way back to the spotlight. I mean hayle, nuccas gotta eat and Softsheen Carson “Curl Control!” activator ain’t free. Plus this ninja has like, 40 kids with that hatchet-faced model wife of his, so he has to do something. It was either this or some Bojangles action down at the Jay Street Burroughs station and that’s currently MY plan C, and I DO NOT need a sidekick.

But I'm just saying: Whatever happened to the days when artists would just do the quiet, dignified fade away? They would realize that their time had come and gone, step to the left of the camera, and discretly fade into a life of alcohol abuse and eventual death in their bathtub. KIDDING! But seriously, folks like Teddy Riley and Michael Bivens kept it cute – transitioning into gigs as producers and writers, collecting their cheese and not making purety dingle donkeys of themselves being on the stage at 52 gyrating for jaysus.

Don’t nobody wanna ride your AARP pony boo.

I even heard from my good friend Blue over at bluecentric.com that Dru Hill is trying for a comeback. And that just hurts, you know what I’m saying?

I mean, DAMN, can’t I have my freshman college year memories intact? Nevermind that JLo is still holding on with - you guessed it - a new video! With Pitbull even!

When the Bar Kays make a come back, I'll know I've been changed.

Da Brat is out and her milkshake is intact (Macarena celebration jam Saturday!)

(Does anyone else get a "not without my Herpecin!" vibe from this pic? I'm just sayin. Valtrex is an option.)

Let me start by stating the obvious: Until all of my sisters are free from the horror of cheap wigs, none of us has truly overcome.

Anywho, while I was in the bathroom "reducing," the gays sneaked this on me. Mmmhmm Da Brat (yes, the 36-year-old yesterapper who is clinging to 1993 like the last scoop of chitlins in the bowl)is out. Awwwwww snap - Cleveland pride is gonna be CRUNK this year!!!!

Meanwhile, where was CNN to cover this???? FUCKIN. UP.

From Boombox:

Fresh off her release from prison, Da Brat is excited to get back into the swing of things. The female rapper is prepping tons of new projects including new music, a book, and getting up to speed on Twitter. Earlier this week, the 36-year-old completed a three-year bid for assaulting a waitress with an alcohol bottle back in 2007, and her new found freedom has changed her outlook on just about everything.

Insert booming Wizard of Oz laughter. Am I truly an evil to the core bitch for keekeeing my shoes clean off my feet at every third word in this paragraph? PS: 10 packs of cigarettes says the book title involves the words "relevance" "struggle" and "pork chop."

Speaking of which, I could've sworn I had ordered a pork chop drop for her release.

Exactly three years to the day Monday, sweet, sticky slabs of meat were supposed to rain down over the prison exit millionth-customer style; I knew Shawntae would look to the heavens, open her mouth and thank me for the show of solidarity. *Cue SWV Rain video*

Whatevs. More please:

Da Brat spoke with xxlmag.com about her newfound freedom after being released from prison on Monday, Feb. 28. Now the rapper is discussing what life was like behind bars and how she was the top dog on every cell block.

Uh oh. This is veering. The wheel is turning. Slowly. Slowly. Yes - IT HAS OFFICIALLY GONE TO THE LEFT OF SANITY.

Man, they kept me on lockdown there because they all would be singing my song. They would be in a line and I’d walk through that joint and they would be like ‘what do you like.’ And,the officers would be like ‘yo, yo fall in line,' but they wouldn’t listen,” said Brat. “... They shipped me outta there in a week.”

Ehh hemmm. I see. Yes. Shipped you out. Pandemonium you say?

It was crazy! I mean all the officers and counselors told me that the girls never bought so much makeup and got in trouble for tight pants,” explained Brat. “It was so funny. I was rollin’ off that s---. Everybody was trying to be homies and friends. Wash my clothes, do my hair, and just everything. I was a boss b---- in that m-----------.

Judge not lest ye be judged - Da Brat just wants you to know her milkshake still brings all the girls to the yard! Mmmmmk. Something tells me the only thing she got in trouble for was hoarding Cup O'Noodles, galavanting around in Lil Bow Wow braids and just generally refusing to leave the Clinton era and enter the Obama years.

But you didn't hear that from me.

If she starts coming for Nikki Minaj (Booty Mirage) talm bout her stolen "shine" Japanese ritual suicide won't be far behind for me.

Bury me a G.

Mike Tyson and his pet pigeons get their own show (Hands Jesus Kleenex)

Getty


Soooooo, at the point at which you have a tattoo on your face, it becomes pretty safe to say you might "have some shit with you" if you know what I mean. Thus having a pack of killer pigeons might follow according to some sort of Nebulian, solar logic.

But exactly why Animal Planet would sign up for this fuggery is a question for brains much veinier than my own:

Animal Planet has long been a network about people and their pets, so why not boxer Mike Tyson and his pet pigeons? The animal-oriented cable channel answers that question with “Taking on Tyson,” a new six-part series about Iron Mike and his beloved birds, premiering March 6.

Oh ok. *strokes beard and handlebar moustache* And yet there's more:

Ever since he was a boy, Tyson, 44, kept pigeons as pets. In fact, legend has it that the first punch he ever threw was aimed at a neighborhood bully who killed one of Tyson’s pigeons (reportedly by yanking off its head) and threw it in his face.

Let me just say that I have officially become the most evil bitch in the Western Hemisphere for thinking I should have BEEN done this to several people. Think of all the pigeons I had access to, and how many situations in which this would have been totally appropriate. *smashes fist into hand*

Anyways, I'm thinking we might want to dig up Aristotle and them to ponder just what might be going on with Iron Mike. Only his relevance faded sometime between the depature of assymetrical haircuts and the arrival of patent leather shoes with sheer ribbons (I will be SO ready when those come back)so I'm officially over it.

And you should be too. Only you will scoff at this posting and then rush home and TiVo the show. And then come March 6, you will close your bedroom door and turn up your Solja Boy music really loud and pretend you're in there rapping in the mirror the way you do sometimes but really you're in there watching the show and weeping over how sensitive Mike is with his birds. And then you'll go to work and be all "As if!" all the while knowing that you are now hooked on "Mike Tyson's World-o-Birds" or "Mike Tyson: Bird Whisperer" or "Mike Tyson and his Bird Wives" or whatever this shat is called.

It's all good. I'm addicted to that WhirlyWords app pretty terrible. We all have our crosses to bear.

White coonery: Roethlisberger Turns 29 (29 in what, rhino years?)

Did ya miss me?

Oh what, you thought I had hung up the "closed for business" sign? Were waiting for them to set the couches and shat from The Hostile Negress headquarters out on the corner for you to peruse? A batch can't take a few days off?

*And on the 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th and part of the 10th days, she rested*

Whatevs. Back to fuckery - brought to you by the Pittsburgh Post Gazette. There was some lead in to this but for realz, it doesn't matter. This is what matters:

... Selection Wednesday, which just happens to be Ben Roethlisberger's 29th birthday. That makes the approaching weekend Big Ben's birthday weekend, which you may have noticed has the potential of a real newsmaker, particularly in small college towns in the Deep South.

*flag on the field*

I'm gonna go ahead and call this white coonery. Why? Because this bama is not twenty-ANYTHING and I'm tired of this myth continuing to be perpetuated. I got eyes. I went to college. I can add AND subscract. Ninja is 49 if he's a day. Bret Favre should be outraged - why is he left carrying the banner of old, wrankled, playin-football-when-he-needs-to-have-a-seat-and-go-chop-some-firewood cracker all by his lonesome?



You look at that face and tell me this bama didn't drive a Camaro in 1983.

I demand a birth certificate and pictures of his mother in labor with his father holding up a newspaper with a visibile date before I accept that he's not a product of the '60s and his first toy wasn't a Pet Rock.

*strolls off into the sunset*