Uncashable Checks

Hi, dudes! Sorry I haven't posted in so long (Umm, over a year? Oops!). I've been super busy making a baby and then keeping said baby alive and not crying. Also, I personally find it really hard to think of blog posts when all I've done all day is stare at the kid. But, you guys, I've had something on my mind for a while now and I need to discuss it with y'alls. You see, I've been listening to a lot of R&B for the last few months. This is related to motherhood in the sense that I no longer get paid for my work and that makes it difficult to listen to rap music, as rappers talk about getting money A LOT. Some of them actually never talk about anything else (I'm looking at you, Baby the Birdman). R&B artists address cashflow issues significantly less, but they use the same producers so there are a lot of sonic similarities. I should be happy. But as I listen to these songs, something keeps bugging me oh so much, which is that these R&B peeps are always making INSANE sexual promises that no one could ever, ever keep. Let's take a closer look:

1. Robin Thicke
Robin Thicke (son of Alan Thicke) actually isn't too overpromisey. I mean, he totally is for a normal human being, but in the world of R&B his hyperbole is pretty average.



Now, in case you didn't catch all the lyrics, Rob here just promised to solve ALL OF YOUR PROBLEMS with his penis. We will accept that as our median for the purposes of this post, and that level of overpromising pales in comparison to our next offender. That's right, dudes, I'm talking about the King of Sexual Overpromise,

2. R. Kelly
Hoo, boy. You're gonna want to hold onto your hat for this one.



To recap: Kells is proposing an entire 24 hours of sex. There will be a round TEN, after which he will get a second wind, resulting in more sex, which is going to make you yodel. Not, as I would think, give you all kindsa chafe, but yodel. Oh, and he probably got you fired.

But that's not unusual for R. Kelly, a man who has sung of sex that takes place in outer space, for Pete's sake. I know better than to take him even remotely seriously. The thing that makes this so bothersome to me, so egregious, is that what we know of R. Kelly's actual sex life tells us that not only is he NOT going to make you yodel, but he's probably going to put on a Zorro mask and pee on you. It's like if I told you to come over to my house to watch the secret 6th season of The Wire and eat free pizza FROM THE FUTURE, and then when you got there, I put on a Zorro mask and peed on you.

3. Ciara



CIARA IS GOING TO DAGGER YOU.

4. The-Dream



Now that is more like it! For those of you not familiar with the vernacular, to "put it down" is to do a pretty good job. Way to keep expectations somewhere reasonable, The-Dream! The craziest promise here is that he'll make you sleepy. Sounds great! I hereby name you my boyfriend for the duration of this blog post!*

Well, that was fun! I'll try to be here more often, but no promises. I seriously don't understand how those Mommy Blogger people do it.


*Actually, who am I kidding, I totally pick Robin Thicke. I have an inexplicable weakness for white dudes with gross facial hair. See also KFed and my husband when we first met.

PDXcuse Me

I owe Portland an apology.


In retrospect, I never had any real anger towards Portland itself. I'm pretty sure I was only mad because Portland kept luring away people I really like. And nothing makes me saltier than people I like moving away. Ugh. I'm sorry, okay, Portland? I was being a hater, and I apologize for talking shit. For, like, years.

I guess this change of heart has been in the works for a while. Me and the dude had a mini-vacay in P-Town (I can call it that now, right?) a couple years ago, and it was just lovely. Granted, we spent pretty much the entire time in strip clubs, smoking, drinking and carousing, and really, who wouldn't enjoy that? But I wasn't sold on Portland just yet. Until this morning, that is, when I found out about their food cart situation.




Apparently, Portland is awash with food carts, and nobody bothered to tell me about it.


View Portland Food Carts in a larger map

If that map were of Seattle there'd be, like, eight of those dot things. We are woefully lacking in food carts, which was much more of an actual problem back when I used to leave the house, but is still a blow to my hometown pride. What hurts the most, though, is that Junior Ambassadors cart exists and I have never been there. These guys specialize in weird ice cream flavors that make our ice cream "mavericks" look like a bunch of snivelling M.O.R. pussies (smoked salmon and cream cheese, you guys. Shit!), "panwiches" whatever that means, and being super fucking whimsical and adorable. Essentially, they are killing my life right now, and I will pretty much feel like half a person until I can convince someone (i.e. Landon) to drive me there. Look. This is how they choose to represent themselves:

AAAAAGH, why are they doing this to me?! You can read all about it at the Food Carts Portland blog. And while you're there, you might as well click around and start planning your food cart tour of Portland.

I feel good, you guys. I've never apologized to an entire city before (though there have been times when I certainly should have), and it's kind of delightfully cathartic. Maybe this will become a series. I have talked shit about a lot of places.
*

What it breaks down to is this: I kind of hate everywhere that isn't Seattle, just for not being Seattle. But what I am starting to realize is that just because I love my wife (Seattle), that doesn't mean I can't occasionally enjoy the charms of other women (cities). And maybe, just maybe, it's time to get me some strange. (Don't worry, this logic does not apply to my actual wife, by which I mean my actual husband, who, thank little baby Jesus, does not read this blog.)

* Did you know that if you Google image search "oops", you will see about a billion nip/labe slips? Neither did I, until about 3 minutes ago. Yowza.

I was listening to Rick James this morning, and I couldn't stop wondering why he was never as big as Prince. I think I have an Idea:

Sex sells, and they were both pretty sexual dudes, both in content and packaging, right? But while Prince's lyrics were far, far filthier (compare Superfreak to Erotic City), he had a leg up on Rick as far as accessibility goes, and there was nothing to be done about it. Why, you ask?

Because Rick James was a big, man-ass dude:



who looks like he may actually do something real crazy to you, whereas Prince is an elf:




And if I've learned anything since Peter Jackson's Lord Of the Rings trilogy came out, it's that bitches love elves.



Also, this.

Kanye, So Blue

Last night, while watching the video for Kanye West's Heartless I had a realization-

If you could cook down an album the same way you do a liquid, Kanye's latest album "808s and Heartbreaks" could be, after simmering in a pot for an hour or so, reduced to this:

real talk.

Is it just me, or is this video extraordinarily homoerotic?




I just feel like if I were kickin' it with these dudes, presumably all tarted up, and they were ignoring me in favor of spraying each other with champagne, I would just get up and go home. It is starting to make more and more sense that these are the dudes behind "No Homo". *

While we're on the subject of Dipset, (which, honestly, I wish we weren't, but I gotta get this out)were you aware that they had released another** Christmas album? Technically, it's "Jim Jones and Skull Gang present", but that's still Dipset to me. And this one doesn't even have a "We Fly High" so people will maybe buy it. Straight Christmas raps, for like an hour.

One! Last! Thing! Have you ever noticed that Jim Jones bears a striking resemblance to Sir Mix-A-Lot?




I just want you to know that getting that picture of J. Jones was not easy for me. I know Cam's the one with IBS, but looking at Jim Jones makes my gastrointestinal tract feel weird. That Halfrican is greazy.


*Personally, I am big fan of "Yes Homo", which is what I say when I definitely mean something in a homosexual manner. Like, "Amy, your tits look awesome today, yes homo." Try it, it's fun and promotes acceptance.

** That's right. There are multiple Dipset Christmas albums in this world.