the bitch is back. or something like that.

Ok guys. I'm gonna stop being a loser now.

You can all breathe that sigh of relief...

I've missed you internet!

taking a mental dump| dear ke$ha.

Yesterday I downloaded KeSha.

I am ashamed of myself. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean it's against my religion to listen to people that have dollar signs in their stage names. After one too many drunken sing-a-longs to her annoyingly catchy tune "Your Love Is My Drug" (barf), I stupidly decided to give this self proclaimed garbage chic 'artist' a chance. I mean, there couldn't be any harm in at least giving the girl five minutes of my time and a little space on my hard drive. It's not like she's Satan. Or Hitler. Or George W. Bush. She's just a really bad singer with pop songs that have the power to make me dance like I don't have a brain cell to depend on. I thought I needed to be open minded. I thought I needed to give her a chance.

I was dead ass wrong.

Listening to Ke$ha in my bedroom after an evening of intense alcohol consumption, I felt instantly dumber. It was like my brain was on FIRE. I couldn't understand how listening the same song at a bar could sound so different in the confines of my home. Where did the magic go? What happened?! It was at that moment I learned a valuable lesson; one not only pertaining to Ke$ha, but also to the laundry list of artists I don't listen to or even like unless there is an alcoholic beverage involved. I realized that I only enjoy this music when I'm in the right atmosphere. And by atmosphere I mean bars, bars, bars, and more bars. No wonder Ke$ha made me want to drop down and twirk something. No wonder I can recite practically every single syllable Gucci Mane has ever uttered after a shot of tequila. NO WONDER I KNOW HOW TO SHAKE IT LIKE A SALT SHAKER.

From now until the end of time I need to stay the hell away from cocktails.
It's causing me to make questionable musical choices.
And I can't have that.

for colored girls who have considered suicide when finding out tyler perry was directing this film| numero dos.

For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide when the Rainbow isn't Enuf, the choreopoem by Ntozake Shange is a brilliant piece of work. So brilliant in fact, that when I find myself reading it once a year, I'm inspired in the same manner as when I first read it back when I was only sixteen years young. When someone mentioned to me a year ago that they were turning one of my favorite pieces of literature into a major motion picture I squealed. Literally. Then, when that same someone mentioned Tyler Perry would be directing I groaned. Literally.

I know he's the token right now among Hollyhood's brightest and biggest directors, but as I've said before he's garbage. I mean, ok, so he can touch a black woman's heart like no one's been able to in recent years, but seriously, what black woman are we talking about? He's not touching my heart. He's giving me a headache. In my mind he creates movies based off stereotypes, most of which I've spent a large portion of my life dispelling. Not every black woman is angry. We all aren't baby mamas or depend on a bullshit men. We all aren't crazy. We all don't have the "Big Mama" mentality, nor do the whole lot of us enjoy being displayed as such beings.

Although Tyler Perry makes me want to stick a couple of fingers down my throat, the cast selection for this film is outstanding. Loretta Devine? Yes. Phylicia Rashad? YES. Kerry Washington, Thandi Newton, Janet Jackson, and Kimberly Elise? ABSOLUTELY.

Maybe I'm being too harsh. Or too cynical. Or maybe even too judgmental. But then again, what the hell do I know? No one seems to portray the plight of the black woman like TP. Ugh.

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