Confessions on a Ghetto Dance Floor

Madonna, "Hung Up" video

Percentage of white people in the video: 0.5%
Percentage of white people represented by Madonna: 50%
Number of ghettos in video: 1
Percentage of people in video who look like they may have shot 50 Cent: 45%
Number of ghetto girls doing that "freak" dance: 2
Number of people humped by Madonna in video: 4
Number of people humped by Madonna in general: Undefined
Number of stereos humped by Madonna in video: 1
Percentage of pink leotard in video: 85%
Percentage of male on male action: 0%

I am definately a fan of the "Hung Up" video. Mainly because Madonna pretty much represents the 0.5% of white people in the video. I'm sorry, there's no way that I believe that these people dancing around in the ghetto are listening to Madonna let alone, "Hung Up" by Madonna. I love the song, and I definately love watching black people in the ghetto dance to what might possibly be one of the gayest songs in history. I definately expected more male on male action. But noooo, Madonna has to be all "street". Even though she probably has enough money to buy the street and build a giant gay bar on it. And I bet she would. We can only hope.

And I definately love watching Madonna hump a stereo. Because a video with Madonna humping an inanimate object is... well, a Madonna video, but that's what makes it great.

"Hey you know what's IN right now? Clashing patterns."

Here we have some unknown arriving at the Angel Ball on Nov. 14th 2005 in New York.

[Source]

Um, really? This is what you’re wearing? For realz?
I know that I’ve become increasingly conservative in my dress as of late, but I still like to have a good time, honest! I do! But this is just stupid. I have no idea who this woman is, but her outfit clearly screams “vacuous hanger-on that is desperate to be noticed”. And good for her for being so honest in her intent, I guess.
God she kind of looks like Jane, of Tarzan and Jane.
You know, if Tarzan accidentally let go and she fell fifty feet through a shitload of tropical foliage. And somewhere along the way fought Toucan Sam or something.
It might explain the dazed expression on her face.
That and all the botox she is clearly injecting into her face.
Don’t worry, you don’t look a day over vacant.

"I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me."

[23:26] rock snob: screw anyone who says that drugs aren't the answer
[23:26] rock snob: The totally are. They're the only answer.
[23:27] Flesh: Seriously, what are you supposed to be, like happy from WITHIN? Please.
[23:27] rock snob: I'll be happy from within when there are drugs within me.

Too MuchMusic

Through a method unbeknownst to me and my roomates, we've somehow gotten cable recently. This is the first time I've had a cable in a really, really long time, thus this is the first time I've seen MuchMusic and MuchMoreMusic in a really long time. I've watched a little bit of the channels since getting them (never for too long; I don't want to melt my brain) and I can say that I think I've figured out their system:

The Videos:
When they actually do play videos, they have to contain at least two of the following:
-Ass
-Tits
-Bad fashion (almost always represented in the form of Fergie)
-A car
-A bunch of boys with hair that's supposed to look modern and yet retro 1987 at the same time, wearing those goddamn studded belts and bracelets
-A bunch of boys with shaggy hair, wearing jeans and t-shirts that's supposed to look modern and yet retro 1977 at the same time
-More ass (almost always represented in the form of Mariah Carey)

As for MuchMoreMusic, which is supposed to be the more "mature" MuchMusic, they pretty much just play a bunch of shows recycled from VH1, shows about how Beyonce was "Born to Be" a pop star or Britney was "Driven" to be Hollywood trailor trash-- I mean, Hollywood talent, reality shows about celebrities or trashy shows about the Fabulous Life of Tom Cruise or celebrities' most embarassing moments.

Did I mention it was supposed to be for a more mature audience?

Did I also mention that the last video I saw on MuchMoreMusic was the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Had Herpes--" Oh sorry, I mean "Don't Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me?"

For an older audience, indeed.

Mean Queens Presents A Photo Essay: Courtney Love with People with More Class than Herself

Here we see Courtney and Paris at the weekly "Mega-Skanks" meeting awaiting Britney, Xtina and Heidi Fleiss. What I love most about this picture is the woman in the background who looks like she's afraid she might catch something by sitting to close to them.



Chelsea Clinton: "Who?"
Courtney Love: "Who?"

Upon discovering who Courtney was, Chelsea promptly called the secret service and had her removed from the party. And we all know how that will end: She refuses, she gets arrested, she skips her court date, repeat.



I love Courtney's smug look in this picture. And Celine's look of horror. Although I can't say much more about it. You see, I can't see it very well because I'M BLINDED BY COURTNEY'S LIPS.



Billy Joel looks more hosed than Courtney does in this picture. And is it just me, or does he look somewhat like a muppet? It says something when Courtney looks like the normal one in the picture. She's all, "Get the piano man's hands off me before I kill him and make it look like a suicide!"

(I kid. Courtney quite obviously didn't kill Kurt. I mean, if you were married to her, wouldn't you kill youself, too?)



Courtney: "So, you're not really with the police, right? Like, the cops? Phew! 'Cuz I am so stoned!"



And thus answers the question of how Richard Branson got syphilis.

bitchymeans.

Yesterday I ran into one of the various girlfriends I’ve established in my English classes and the following conversation transpired:

Me: Ohmygosh! You’ll never guess who’s in my Mod Lit class!
Girlfriend: Who?
Me: Do you remember that guy from our Victorian Lit class? He kind of dressed punky?
Girlfriend: The one who dressed too pretty to be actually punk?
Me: Yeah! He’s super cute eh, and TOTALLY a gay.
Girlfriend: Yeah, but he’s bitchy and mean.
Me: Oh I know.
Girlfriend: You do realize bitchy and mean is your “type” right?
Me: That explains a lot.
Girlfriend: You need to find a guy who’s bitchy and mean enough to keep you interested so that you don’t realize he’s actually nice.
Me: Know any?

I always admonish women who claim to go for the “bad boy” type because I think it’s ridiculous and weird. But the more I think about it, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe the ghey equivalent is going for guys that are bitchy and mean. Because I sure have had my fair share of crushes on men who have the personality of an axe-wound. I’m not sure what it is; perhaps it’s the thrill of the hunt or something that harks back to my animalistic-instincts. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for punishment.

You’d never guess it by some of my postings, but in real-life I’m actually a fairly nice, agreeable person, so maybe I’m just not attracted to like-minded people. Maybe it is a cut-and-dry example of opposites attracting… Although I guess that doesn’t explain the penis-on-penis action I’m interested in.

Teknikal Difikultees

ATTN: Readers using IE who see giant fonts on Mean Queens

It shows up super ass giant in my IE, too.

Furthermore, I don't know how to fix it.

So, um, yeah... Solution: Get Firefox.

My Fashion Politik

...my high school yearbook quote...



Sometimes when I’m getting dressed for class and marveling at my snappy fashion efforts, I am struck by just how much my sense of style has changed from high school to university.

In high school I was the kid that sported a Chelsea and wore track pants everyday. Usually my thirty layers of giant sweaters were accompanied by one of my many oversized Northern Exposure T-shirts with images of wolves and deer on them. In fact, one time in my senior year, while out for coffee, my girlfriend remarked that when in public with her I wasn’t allowed to wear T-shirts with animal images ever again.

Basically, I was a bull-dyke in high school.

Now I actually style my hair before I leave home in the morning; and by style it I mean never EVER do something as hideous to myself as a Chelsea. I’ve taken out most of my piercing and I try to wear dress slacks a couple of times a week. My shirts have become quite tight and I’ve adopted adventures in layering, mimicked from various Indie bands I’m a fan of. It’s been quite the transformation, I assure you.

All in all I’m quite trendy, albeit that my trendy is still done primarily at second hand shops. Let’s call it fashion for those on a budget. But more than just my clothes have changed, I’ve changed too [crazy, huh?]. I make a conscious effort to eat extremely healthily and I make sure to work out a few times a week in an attempt to sex-ify my body. Although with the sharp increase in drinking in recent years perhaps the exercise is more an attempt to fight off all the added caloric in-take.

In high school I thought that my clothing and style was reflecting my refusal to cave into the societal norms I found oppressive. I didn’t want to buy into a beauty-myth that was limited to the select few who exist at a pinnacle of beauty so few of us regular people have hopes of achieving. I sometimes wonder what would happen if Past-Me were to meet Now-Me? Would he think I had sold-out to the MAAAAN? On a good day I imagine he’d be jealous of how much hotter and thinner I am now.

But on bad days I wonder if I really am compromising something. My politics have shifted alongside my clothing-choices; for the most part I believe in the same things but I like to think I’m a bit more practical now. But maybe practicality and compromising are just pretty words for giving up and in?

Jesus a CHELSEA. What was I thinking?

Fags in the Hall

Please tell me y’all watch Kids in the Hall and will therefore get this reference…
There is a skit in which one of the characters marches down the street singing: “These are the Dave’s, I know I know, these are the Dave’s I know!” As he passes various Dave’s in his life.
Having to navigate the ridiculous amount of people on campus I’m forced to play my very own version, in which I sing: “these are the gheyz I know I know, these are the gheyz I know!”
Then I proceed to label various guys I pass as homosexuals. It’s a pretty easy game to win at, as far as I know I’ve never been wrong. Although, I suppose as far as I know I’ve never been right either. But come on. I’m right.

*

Note to the Teaching Assistant who guest-lectured today:

If you do the following, I will assume you are a ghey:
- wear a bright-lime green polo-shirt and then call attention to it by saying “don’t look directly at my shirt or you’ll go blind”.
- proceed to make buffy references for no other reason than you’re gay and like buffy.
- have nice biceps.
- gesture emphatically.
- make all the girls [and faggots] laugh at your silly [but still lame] jokes for no other reason than the fact your eyes sparkle.
- wear a shirt so tight that you’re nipples are visible; because I will be forced to lick my lips and call attention to my tight-shirt in-which my nipples are visible. Dang, bitches still haven’t turned off the AC.
I may have a crush on my Teaching Assistant.
*
PS - I am trying to update our blogroll so those out there whose blogs I visit e-mail me or post so that I might aquire y'allz links and suchlike.

All the Drugs in this World Won’t Save her from Herself*

Am I the only one who frankly, finds it disgusting the way the media and fashion industry have reacted to Kate Moss’ drug addiction? Instead of attempting to get the girl help, or support her in any way, they are attempting to distance themselves from the problem, when, let’s face it, they are the problem.

It’s not as though H&M, or now possibly Rimmel, is going to go out and find a new spokesmodel that actually promotes healthy body-images to girls. Nope, they’re going to out and find themselves some twiggy 14-year old, apply heavy make up to her so she looks legal and continue selling the same fucked up body-image issues to women that likely cause Kate Moss – and every other model – to abuse drugs in the first place.

Sure Kate was stupid enough to get caught; but if my job consisted of remaining rail thin, wearing clothing and walking in a straight line I might need to be permanently fucked up as well.

Just to show how much illness has been intertwined with beauty, a few years ago when I started losing massive amounts of weight quickly friends and family commented on how good I looked “now” and then quickly followed it up with questions about whether or not I had an eating disorder. As if to further intertwine these two notions that sickness is the only means to achieving beauty.

* subtle Marilyn Manson reference.