Had I written the ramble of self-doubting and anxious thoughts that have been occasionally occupying my poor, confused, creativity-logged mind lately, someone (probably from my inner-circle) would have called me with concern and quiet judgement.
Instead, I put on TMZ (not kidding) and remembered my best form of defense against that crap is humor, so I bounced back and decided to write something else.
I figure, instead of talking about me on this blog all the time, I would tell you how I feel about some of the tings that gwon' (my Jamaican version "things that go on") in the news lately...
Truth is, I can't tweet or update everything that comes to my head, so in the interest of preventing verbal waste, ladies and gentlemen....some consolidation.
Oh and click here for today's song choice.
The Beyonce Come Up
Oh Beyonce Knowles. When you appeared on that stage back in January, dressed in your somewhat inappropriate for a morning event gown and dramatic black eyeliner, we just knew we were in for some serious singing. Pero, pa que fue eso (eloquent Spanish for..."but what was that for?") your trifling-ass, had the nerve to disgrace our country by lip-synching the National Anthem and we were like, seriously pissed about it.
After a secret conversation, that in my head, included Young Hova Ya Heard, Mr. "my opinion still counts" Knowles and an excitable sounding Kanye West (he was on speaker), Beyonce decided to go all acapella on us at the Superbowl press conference--afterwhich everyone promptly piped down.
Fast forward a few days to the afternoon of the actual Superbowl and the American public was already being fed Beyonce-isms (you totally saw that ecard in your newsfeed right?). The hype was moving along, full steam ahead. We began to questions ourselves... to think that maybe we overreacted--I mean it is hard to sing open air and she wasn't feeling well. So maybe we were a little harsh.. and whatever Kelly Clarkson--because you totally can't drop it like Beyonce--she's been wearing heels since 13 or something.
Anyway, we were ready to forgive, ready to break bread--but it was all hinged on the Superbowl halftime show. Thankfully, before we injured ourselves holding in the anticipation, the game hit its' halfway point and the Pepsi gods began counting us down to the impending epic event.
For the next roughly 13.5 minutes we were entranced by a bouncing beauty of thigh muscle, hair and adorable muecas for the camera--oh and she was obviously crooning live. It was full of flash and female kick-assedness, sparkles, wind, smoke, LEATHER and then..... it ended.
We stood there, stunned, trying to comprehend what just happened. Did we just get served? It was clear that somewhere Pitbull stood up from his chair and yelled out TOMA!
Meanwhile, the social media world lost its' shit. Seriously, some rather verbose folks on twitter could only say things like: WOW. OMG. FIRE.
We were speechless and sorry that we ever doubted her awesomeness. We were so impressed we didn't even care that those other two children of Destiny didn't have their mics on...we were still looking at Beyonce's legs wondering if she could crush coconuts with her thighs (at least I was) and thinking of ways to get back on her good side.
well as we all know, post performance, the lights went out at the Superdome or more accurately put--the ENTIRE Superdome passed out from her greatness.
Coincidence......I think not!
and that ladies and gentlemen, is the "Beyonce Come Up"....
xo....
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