anxiety-addled, yet still cute

I have made three entries on VIBE Confidential lately since our normal VC blogger-lady is out of town. None of them are all that confidential, but I tried to put some of my regular electric flavor in there for you to enjoy, or not enjoy. GO COMMENT!
Gossip blogging. Because I don’t get to write snarky shit about pedicures enough.
Can we talk for a couple seconds about “I BE DRILLIN THESE CHICKS LIKE MAJOR PAYNE,” the R.Kelly half-verse (“Make it Rain (Remix)”) that has dominated all my conversations this weekend? first off, Major Payne came out like 12 years ago – yet it was on Starz or some shit a couple nights ago, which leads me to believe that R. was just kicking back with the cable remote when he came up with that choice little metaphor. Secondly, his whole shit now is simply flagrant, to borrow a term from my friend Toshi – ok he was flagrant before, but now it’s like what little self-awareness he had floated away with the happy people. (Yet he still possesses more self-awareness than the brain genius who employed him for the Daddy’s Little Girls soundtrack). Chris Ryan, a true brain genius not a fake one, described lil Robz as “post-misogyny.” I like how we are now using “post” as a prefix to describe people whose absurdity and lack of conscience has traversed into the heretofore unexplainable by regular people.
(The word “post” can also say a lot about who is using it, like when someone – uncredited – flippantly described Beyonce as “post-race” in the conde nast fashion mag, Fashion Rocks. I think in that case the writer was perhaps “pre”-beatdown.Who am I kidding, whoever wrote that is probably a Rockefeller debutante and will stay running the world. As for Beyonce: dear heart, I hope you are flush in $40,000 swedish chairs until the glorious H-town Jesus takes you home.)
Something else I would like to point out. Bridge to Terabithia is great, even though the female lead’s capital-a, doe-eyed ACTING annoyed heavily (B disagreed; called her “endearing”). I had not read the book since I was wee, and forgot it was so sad, and also that there was so much Christianity in it. Yet and still, I wept. I threw popcorn. I wept some more all the way up Henry Street. But then it was cool cause when we got back, my man, he threw some Jodeci on the turntables and I forgot all my troubles. When pressed, he even *scratched*. AND THAT IS A KIND OF PUN!!