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If anyone knows how I can blame this on someone else, please let me know. I, as usual, am not an acceptable option.
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I lived in Alaska as a kid and while that alone borders on child abuse, I did get out eventually. Before leaving on what ended up being hours of precarious mountain driving in a Cadillac Caprice with a transmission on the verge of signing its Dear John letter, I rifled through my mom’s cassette collection. Since I was nine-years-old and really only familiar with The Lion King soundtrack, much of it was lost on me. With an uncommitted gaze, I dismissed Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton and The Rolling Stones as if they were hanging on a sales rack at Old Navy.
But I was able to recognize one – Michael Jackson’s Dangerous. Its contents tore through the foam of my headphones throughout the entire trip. The only exception being “In the Closet,” when I would lower the volume because even though I didn’t know what it meant to “give it,” I figured that whatever it was would result in a conversation that I was too young to understand but old enough to feel embarrassed about.
Luckily, I’ve since grasped the concept. Which is why I’m able to appreciate Majela’s position on bearded men tickling her vagina:
After spending my afternoon perfecting the casual way in which she strums her vagina, I noticed the impressive cassette collection in her living room, or rather, shrine to the day that someone graduated from something. I can only hope that Dangerous is buried there somewhere and that, if given the opportunity, I’d have enough sense to swipe the cassettes that inspired her to sing about her “wet, wet, wet juicy vagina.”
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I know it may seem like I do this Boyz II Men shtick to be funny, but that’s mostly because the reality is too grim to face. My life is one that is centered around checking if the online Boyz II Men store has opened because it has been coming soon for months now and so I am starting to think that coming soon really means hahahahaha white girl. This is where I lose my patience because if manic depressive hipsters can put together an Etsy store dedicated to screen printing Sylvia Plath’s face on oven mitts, then surely these guys can take a break from pretending they’re Stevie Wonder and provide their 11 fans with some satisfaction.
All I want is a t-shirt. Preferably in black and maybe with a design where my face is superimposed on all of their microphones, so it looks like we’re making out. Oh, and they’re not allowed to sell it to anyone else but me. Out of my caravan of good ideas, this one surprisingly ranks as one of the least insane while simultaneously being the most impossible. However, I should note that my concept of insanity is probably skewed.
Either way, Boyz II Men is touring. I know, it sounded weird to me at first too. But whatever, I’m going. I have to. Even if I am 90% sure that it’s some sort of glitch or elaborate prank put on by all of the friends I don’t have because they just love me that much. At this point, the only thing keeping me hanging on is the fact that over half the venues are at state fairs and casinos. That is the kind of authenticity that only a 21 year old musical group, whose greatest success involves Lisa Turtle being in one of their music videos, can generate.
The show is in June (or Joon, I guess if we’re trying to stay consistent with Augast) of 2010 in Bremerton, WA. So, who wants to carpool?
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This is easily the most disturbing thing I’ve seen all week*:
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For about 15 seconds, everything seems normal until you realize that it’s a tranny trick of epic proportions. Of course, instead of discovering that those implants come with bonus fries, there’s a scale of graduated horror upon realizing that children are constructing their own visual harem.
At about 1:31, a shirtless boy taking the place of Tyson Beckford appears and that’s when I begin to think this isn’t ok. Many of the comments urge others to flag the video, which I agree is unsettling, but that’s really just code for ‘This just gave me a boner that could end famine. Remove the video and please save me from myself.’
*Update: YouTube keeps removing the video since apparently no one is capable of playing it cool. So I’ve hosted my own copy, which means I had to take time away from cursing myself for liking Matchbox Twenty and deal with numbers. I’ll hate you forever, YouTube.
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Remember when Mariah Carey went on TRL a few years ago and confirmed everyone’s suspicions that she was, in fact, completely insane? Well, she’s doing it again, but since TRL was canceled (go figure the one time I pray, I actually get results), she has to resort to using her new perfume ad as a conduit.
If I were still a fan I might let it slide that her wig is crooked and that the left side of her face could compete in the Special Olympics, but Mariah officially stopped caring once the 90s ended and for that, she will always be my Y2K.
I remember having her Butterfly album, playing it on my Sony CD Boom Box and then trying to figure out how to play “My All” on repeat so I could pretend that Ricky Martin would come in to my room, compliment my beanie baby collection and proceed to please me in all of the ways I never knew I needed. But, as Glitter taught us, dreams only really come true when they are based on the very loosest perception of reality and in this case, the idea of a non-gay Ricky Martin is fairly grounded by comparison.
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