Until Yesterday

Please don't hate me, but I'm kind of digging the new JC Chasez song "Until Yesterday". I know...sad.

To the left, to the left

I'm ashamed to admit that I love this song.

P!nk - U + Ur Hand - HQ Video - Pink

P!nk has suffered lately from "Big in Europe" syndrome, and damn if I can't figure out why "Who Knew" wasn't a huge hit. That is an amazingly well written pop song. At any rate, this song pretty much demonstrates why you hire Max Martin, and I'm glad to see she's getting a little more love with it.

Kellie Pickler - Red High Heels

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah red state jump! This video looks like it was paid for with a $10 money order. And what's sad is it's still better than anything Carrie Underwhelming has ever put out.

Give Him His Money Back!

Um, this is outrageous.

Shut Up and Sing

The Dixie Chick's new documentary, "Shut Up and Sing", is out tomorrow at select theaters. Check out the trailer here.

I can't wait to see it. From what I hear, it's fantastic. I've been a looong time fan of the Chicks, and I love me some Bush-Bashing, so... perfect combo.

Danity Kane - Season Finale Concert

The cabinet in concert.

I've made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby...

more TV news!

Madonna will be on Oprah

this Wednesday, October 25th

to talk about her adoption jumpoff.

Queen of Comedy

Joan Rivers: Before Melissa Pulls The Plug
Premieres on Bravo
Tuesday, October 24th

mark your calendars.

POP ROCKS!

Truvy, Shelby and I represented the cabinet at the opening of the newest incarnation of POP ROCKS! Thursday night at 13. The venue was a little bleak...unfortch not a whole lot of room for flailing limbs, such is the case with pop music and the cabinet. In addition, upon arrival we were disheartened to see the open bar was mobbed three-people deep by cheap bitches haggling with the bartender to get 5 drinks at a time. Shelby and I made the mutual decision that it was, in fact, not worth it - and since we had jobs, we would wait and pay for our drinks.

And so, while patiently waiting for that opportune moment to approach the bar, we surveyed the crowd. Bleak. Beyond the usual faggot contingency, there was an alarming percentage of shady older men, a smattering of random breeders and an extremely tragic/drunk gay couple which I can't begin to describe, other than to tell you one of them was wearing a mock turtleneck and they danced like Elaine Benes from Seinfeld.

A few other cons:

• The venue had some bleak busboys that kept frantically surveying the place with flashlights, as if they were security at Roxy.

• I was reprimanded on my way out of the place by the doorman because I walked out of the wrong "exit" door, even though there was literally no difference between the two.

• People kept jumping up on the couch and trying to turn a light fixture built in the wall towards the 3 x 3 foot "stage" in an attempt to illuminate the go-go boy.

But enough bitching. I'm happy to report the dj was the same homegurl from the last POP ROCKS! party. And so, we bravely held down the fort and blew it out to such standards as:

"I'm a Slave For U" - Brit-Brit
"Let's Get it Started" - Bleak Eyed Peas
"Ain't No Other Man" - Baby Jane
"What a Girl Wants" (remix) - Christina Aguilera
"Car Wash" - Xtina
"Deja Vu" - Crazy Eyes
"Crazy in Love" (remix) - Beyonce
"Me Against the Music" - Brit-Brit (Sidebar: we actually heard the first half of this song, twice. The cd kept blowing it out and dj homegurl eventually had to move on to something else. BLEAK!)
"The Jumpoff" - Lil' Kim
"Music" - Madonna
"Play" - J. Ho (Incidentally, though we didn't hear any Milian, this was close enough)
"Get Right" - J. Ho
"Bootylicious" - D. Child
"If" - Boobie Jumpoff

Our signal to leave, I'm sad to say, was JT's "SexyBack". Yes, I love that album, but that song is tired beyond measure. Any song that's huge even in rural America is NOT acceptable by cabinet standards. We prefer such under-the-radar pop as, for example, "Heartbreaker" by D. Hein (Incidentally, thank god we didn't hear that...Shelby would have flatlined.).

All cons aside, pop music is the equivalent of heroin to me. So see you next Thursday, POP ROCKS!

Hurt

Christina Aguilera - Hurt

Feminist Ice Cream Three-Way

Hot on the heels of Clairee's hilarious Amy Sedaris tumbling routine, I just had to post this clip (I know, it's so last week) of Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem baking an apple pie with the genius Stephen Colbert on 'The Colbert Report' last Tuesday. It's pretty boss.

You can keep tryin', but that doesn't mean we're buyin'...

True to annoying form, Ashanti threw herself a birthday party at Las Vegas' Tao nightclub this weekend. Hop on over to Concrete Loop to take a look at a few of the pics from what looks to be a bleak affair. (But oooh, Nelly was there. Mmmm...Nelly!) Ashanti actually doesn't look so bad, but as a member of an Ashanti-shunning organization like The Cabinet, I simply cannot endorse anything related to this party. (At least Mya doesn't seem to have been in attendance.)

And I have to comment on something: I'm not so keen on the fact that she was hanging with two of the boys from The Cabinet's Official Favorite TV Show, Noah's Arc. Excuse me, Ashanti, but who do you think you are, hanging with them??! Be sure to check out the expression on Rodney Chester's face in the last pic, kids. A classic Alex glare if I have ever seen one!!

Regina Spektor - Fidelity

I heart you, Regina.

Amy Sedaris on the Colbert Report

I know this is totally old school, but the tumbling routine really needs to be present on this blog...

Herstory

You should also probably have this. It's called "History", it's the b-side to Madonna's "Jump" single, and it's kinda blown. Oh well...I still listen to Confessions at least once a week and it's been out for like a decade.

Midas Touch

Just in case you needed reminding of Christina's versatility and talent, she has now managed to even make a Diddy track listenable. Click here to listen and download a radio rip of Diddy's "Tell Me" featuring Xtina (and yes, I know she's "Baby Jane" now, but she's more "Xtina" on this track"). Keep on blowing it, gurl!

Who needs a finger in their chili...

...when they can suck down a hypodermic needle filled with heroin in their burrito? Check out this story about a New Mexico woman who tried to smuggle some drugs to her friend inside a 99c wrap of dehydrated goodness and totally got caught. Outrageous!!

[P.S.: God, that picture is gross. Did I really used to eat that stuff on a regular basis in high school?]

Noooo!

Click on the title of this post for a seriously disturbing bit of breaking news. The D. Hein girls were totes in a CAR ACCIDENT. They are in the hospital with sprains, concussions, whiplash and everything. The only gurl not in the accident was D. Woods.

They must get better soon because they need to start rehearsing for the Heinous Hair tour. I will NOT accept a Heinous Hair tour without D. Hein. I won't. You can't promise me that and then take it away.

P.S.
Ouizer: I did some re-casting of the Cabinet in the roles of D. Hein
Aundrea = Shelby
Dawn = Truvy
Shannon = Clairee
Aubrey = Ouizer
D. Woods = M'Lynn

It would be fitting that M'Lynn was not in the car accident because she was at home taking care of Drum and his tonsil-less throat.

what an asshole.

Ummm... what's going on here?

I think this video is supposed to show what happens when

J.Simp does 'shrooms.

Jessica Simpson - I Belong To Me

Xtina: The 20's 30's 40's 50's Tour

omg

omg

omg

O. M. G.

March 23, 2007. Save the date, because Heinous Hair is coming to blow her tits off at Madison Square Garden, and she's bringin' the Pussycat Bitches and cabinet favorite, Danity Hein, along with her as opening acts.

I'm still not sure yet when tix for MSG go on sale, but a whole slew of other cities are going on sale this Saturday. No worries though, I'll be checking Xtina's site daily for updates.

Outrageous.

ps... hear Christina call into TRL here. She talks about her tour and new single, "Hurt". They also show a little clip from the new video.

Bonnnng. Bonnnng. Bong.

I used to love me some "Facts of Life" back in da day,

even after Mrs. Garrett left and they opened that store.

Actually I think it's still my favorite TV theme song

(after "The Golden Girls" song, of course).

I'd like to say I'm a Blair, but I'm probably a Natalie (wonk wonnnnk).

Here's a classic scene I came across.

I love the way Mrs. G says the word "garbage".

Goodtimes.

"Tootie's Bong"

Hot Mess Of The Week

I don't know who this BLOW! is, but she showed up at the VH1 Hip Hop Honors taping last weekend looking like a HOT mess. PLUS, her name is Beverly Poo. I kid you not! Yeeeeaaaah! Methinks maybe she is related to Remy Ma, a strong candidate for Hot Mess of the Century.

Bug-eyed Blowout

Okay, so this post isn't going to come close to Ouizer's Babs story in the entertainment department (Classic blow,Ouizer. Fine holiday fun) but I had to post anyway.

I fuckin' LOVE the Runaway Bride (aka Jennifer Wilbanks). Bitch hopped a freakin' Greyhound before her wedding to some Christian loser who wouldn't give her any somethin' somethin' and then LIED saying she was abducted. Classic. The Cabinet always endorses blows like this who lie when the shit hits the fan.

Now, she is suing her ex for stuff they bought with her book deal money. Click the title of this post for the story. Why in the world is she suing for a ladder...? She's so freakin' weird. I luv'er.

Yentl Goes Mental

Perhaps my greatest guilty pleasure in life is my infatuation with Barbra Streisand. I know, I know, it's the gayest of gay obsessions to have, but Babs just does something to me whenever I hear her voice or see her on the screen. Which makes last night just about the best night of my life. Ever. There are no words. For, yes, it is true, I got to see Babs in ALL her glory at Madison Square Garden for a three-hour Blowfest. And not just any Blowfest, but one that made headlines all over the country!

First, let me say that I prepared heavily for this concert. I had seen many Babs screen gems before, from Yentl to Funny Girl, The Prince of Tides to The Mirror Has Two Anuses. And the Cabinet witnessed my hysterical delirium when we all went to see Barbra's last major-screen appearance in Meet The Fockers. But I hadn't seen some of her more obscure films like Up The Sandbox (mildly interesting) and The Main Event (even Babs couldn't save that one). So I rented them. All. In chronological order. From Netflix. I made sure I gave myself enough time to prepare and I got through the whole videography.

Then I went back and filled in a few missing holes I had in the discography. I have about 35 Babs records on CD and another 15 or so on vinyl, so I filled in the gaps - 1984's Emotion (which contains the rather odd duet of Babs and Kim Carnes called "Make No Mistake, He's Mine"). 1963's The Third Album (a collection of obscure standards in similar vein to The Barbra Streisand Album and The Second Barbra Streisand Album).

Then I went back and watched ALL the concert specials she has done over the years. On repeat. To the point where I memorized most of the sound bites given outside the concert taping for 1994's The Concert and 2000's Timeless. And created my own. Just in case CBS or CNN or NBC happened to stop me in front of MSG for a soundbite, I wanted to be prepared. I mean, I would DIE if I had been one of those people who sang "People" when asked why they liked Babs. Sheesh!

OK. So I walk down there from my office. At this point I'm starting to get heart flutters and I'm afraid I'm going to hyperventilate before she even gets onstage. I call Truvy and Annelle for moral support during my time of need and they calm me down (slightly). I make predictions about how many times I am going to cry and what song is going to trigger the waterfalls.

I FINALLY get there. Too crazed to even stop for a cigarette (even though I know I'm going to be trapped inside for three hours), I hurry in to the MOST crowded MSG I have ever seen. These poor people, most of whom were older, could NOT figure out how tickets worked. How gates worked. How sections worked. How seat assignments worked. It was a hot mess.

After knocking over a few old ladies smelling strongly of Avon and buttah to get one of the last programs at the kiosk, I hurry to my seat. OMG. I'm dead center in the loge, with a perfect view of the Babs-A-Thon!!! As the seats start to fill in, the crowd starts to cheer. Startled, I glance about nervously, thinking maybe James Brolin or Jason Gould, Barbra's hot gay son, have taken seats on the floor. No such luck. Even BETTER. Oprah and Gayle, continuing to fuel the flames of their strange non-lesbian relationship, have shown up to support the gayest icon ever. Rosie O'Lesbo soon follows. Michael Kors (sans Nina Garcia, unfortunately) sits in my section.

After what seems like an eternity, Barbra Joan makes her grand entrance. I feel like I'm going to faint but I hold it together. A few songs into the set comes my favorite, "The Way We Were", and as soon as I hear the opening piano bars I start to lose it. God her voice IS like buttah. A flamer screams out, "Barbra, marry me even though I'm gay!" Which Barbra can't hear so she shuffles over in her Donna Karan sequined monstrosity to his side of the stage. When she finally figures out what he is saying, she responds, "There are gay people here???" Lord, she is BEASTING out.

Perhaps that's the part that people don't get about my obsession with Babs, and my obsession with most people, for that matter. I WANT her to beast out. If she didn't, I wouldn't be half as interested. I love me some Madonna, but she was WAY more fun in the Truth or Dare era than I'm Going To Tell U A Secret (zzzzzzzzz!!!). So, when Babs spotted La Winfrey in the audience, what do you think she said? "Still so thin???" I almost fell on the floor. She then proceeded to tell this ridiculous story about how she didn't make dress rehearsal for the concert because she was too busy eating her way through town.

OK, OK. So you've probably heard the good part. Well, after I repeatedly tinkled on myself hearing "People", "Evergreen", "Don't Rain On My Parade", "My Man", "Children Will Listen" and the like for the first time live, Babs got to her political sketch comedy with the George Bush impersonator. Which...wasn't so funny. It was long. I had to go on a pee break for real and I stumbled over a couple of enthralled older fagits, missing the "Get Happy" duet. However, I really couldn't believe that she was being heckled by the audience for an anti-Bush skit. What did they expect from her? She's KNOWN for this kind of shit. When she stopped her song and screamed, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!", though, I almost died. It was AWESOME. It was like South Park had come and ambushed the show. ElBeasto Streisand, ya did me proud last night. I won't forget this night for many years to come. Probably never. You're my guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

xoxo,

Your #1 Fan Ouizer

Foley's Follies

I wanted to post one more article from this week's Time about the fallout from Mark Foley's IM/page scandal. This one's from writer John Cloud, and it makes some really interesting (and, to be honest, heartbreaking) points about Foley's self-destruction, much of it largely at the hands of his own refusal to just come out of the damn closet already. I'm glad Cloud took the time to explain to a mass audience how damaging Foley's self-denial ended up being--not only to others, but also to himself.

(By the by, if you can't already tell, I'm totally fired up about the elections, and they're still a month away! It's not for nothing that "election years" are listed as one of my Friendster interests; I can't get enough. Election night is like party time for me.)

Hair Trauma

Has nobody gently suggested to UN Ambassador John Bolton that he might want to get himself a quick appointment with Fredric Fekkai or Jose Eber to fix that mess of a hairdo he's been sporting since the Stone Age? I mean, honestly, man! It's like we sent a human/walrus hybrid over to the East Side to represent our fair country!

Assholes In Retreat

Click here to read Time Magazine's new cover story about the potential end of 12 years of Republican rule in Congress, all spurred by those icky-sticky IMs from Congressman Mark Foley to his young, underage page. It's a fairly interesting article that analyzes how voting-age Americans feel about the scandal, as well as an examination of how the Assholes, er, Republicans have strayed from the ideals of their 1994 "revolution." (Personally, I considered that a regression, but hey...to-may-to, to-mah-to!)

I couldn't be more thrilled to see the Assho--oops, did it again!--REPUBLICANS imploding, especially since I think they are a despicable bunch of hypocrites who've done this country more harm than good over the past few years. But I'm also just as concerned about the fact that Mark Foley, a victim of his own self-hatred and his allegiance to a party that hates gay people, is at the heart of this matter, because it's more grist for the mill for idjits like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, who make no secret of the fact that gay people are apparently responsible for all of the world's ills. (It's true, yo. I started the Darfur crisis, Clairee holds the secret to global warming, Truvy totally supplies Hamas and Hezbollah with all of their weapons, Shelby's busy whacking baby seals in the head as I type, and Ouizer? Well, let's just say that the avian bird flu crisis is just going to get worse unless somebody gets her a better seat at the Barbra Streisand concert this week.)

But seriously, Robertson is up to his old tricks again, and there's proof in this article. In trying to steer the 'Pubes back to glory as they try to argue themselves back into voters' good graces, he's suggested the following explanation for why Denny Hastert and his cabal of cronies didn't take care of the Foley scandal far earlier. His suggested talking point? "Well, this man's gay. He does what gay people do."

If what gay people "do" is live and breathe and have a pulse, then he's right. But if what gay people "do" is flirt with young boys and try to have sex with 16-year-olds on a regular basis, then...hmmm, that actually leads me to an interesting conclusion. I've never once tried to bag an underage teenage boy, nor have I sent sexually suggestive IMs to one. So based on what Pat Robertson is saying...that must mean that I'm straight!! Who knew?! All of this pain and strife and minority status, down the drain. Thanks for setting the record straight (literally!), Pat Robertson. Now go fuck yourself.

Stuff on my Cat

This website is stupid/brilliant.

Um, no.

I scanned this out of last week's Next Magazine. My question is this: Who in the world thought this tag line was a good idea? Tacky.

omgomgomgomgomgomgomg

Click here to get JHud's leaked version of "And I am Telling You I'm Not Going" from Dreamgirls. Be warned, because homegurl blows her TITS off. I'm seriously freaking the fuck out right now I'm so 'lil debbie for this movie.

Alternate "Jump" Video

The Armoire Saga

The boyfriend and I have recently been doing some home improvement projects. As part of said improvements, we ordered a new armoire from a certain low-cost carrier (I can’t name names, because I don’t want to be an, ahem, TARGET of legal action). For your enjoyment, the following is a timeline, from order to delivery:

9/2/2006 – Online order completed.

9/14/2006 – I logged onto UPS and noticed that our armoire had been delivered to some random town in Florida. Surprised, I sent the following email to customer service:

“I purchased the Country Lane Pine Armoire on 9/2/2006, along with three other items. All other items in my order have been delivered. When I check the UPS status, however, it says the armoire was delivered to Plantation, FL on 9/13/2006. I live in New York City and never gave a Florida address. Please let me know as soon as possible what is happening with this shipment.”

9/16/2006 – I received the following response email from customer service:

“Dear [Clairee],

I'm sorry that your shipment hasn't arrived. I've arranged for a replacement order to be sent at no additional charge:

-Replacement Order Number: XXX-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXXX
-Shipping Method: Standard Domestic
-Estimated Delivery Date: 10/4/06 - 10/6/06

I realize it will be a while before the replacement gets to you, so if you'd rather have a refund, just call us at 1-800-XXX-XXXX.

Once the order ships, you'll get a confirmation e-mail and will be able to track the order.

If the original shipment arrives, you'll need to refuse delivery. If you're not there when the package is delivered:

-If it's delivered by mail, write "Refused--Return to Sender" on the
package and leave it where it was delivered.
-If it's delivered by another carrier, contact them to find out how
to refuse the package.

Thanks for your patience.”

9/27/2006 – I receive notice that the package was refused by the package center in my building because it is too heavy. I call to make an appointment to have the armoire delivered on Friday, 9/29/2006, because UPS makes No(?) Saturday(?) Deliveries(?)

9/29/2006 – My boyfriend works from home so that he can accept the package. I make two phone calls to UPS from work during the day to confirm the package will be delivered. No problem, I am assured. The package is never delivered. I make my third phone call to UPS at 7:00 pm and am informed that UPS screwed up and accidentally changed the delivery date from 9/29/2006 to 10/11/2006. Apparently, either a mysterious computer virus or a slip of Sha’Niqua’s Lee press-on nails have effed things up considerably for us. I am told “The package might be on a truck, but we can’t know because we can’t communicate with the trucks.” (Obviously!) “You could go to the package center on West 43rd Street, but it closes in an hour. The best I can do is put in a message to the package center, but they won’t get it until Monday morning.” She assures me she has stepped the situation up to “urgent” and that I will be called first thing Monday morning.

10/2/2006 – No representative from UPS calls me Monday morning. I call instead, pleading with them not to try and delivery the package because we already missed one day of work and can’t stay home today. I am assured it will not be delivered until Wednesday and that someone from the local package center will call and confirm within 1 hour. No one calls. That night, I arrive home from work and the package is sitting outside the door of my New York City apartment, where anyone walking by could have taken it. I laugh.

These are the ridiculous things we put ourselves through to live in New York City. Completely normal activities, like going to the grocery store or buying a cheap piece of furniture, become extreme endurance tests. We take a bus for an hour and a half to Ikea to buy $50 furniture. We spend money on cabs from Staples so that we have boxes to move ourselves up and down six-floor walk-up apartments. We lay down 40% of our salaries on miniscule two-room apartments when we could be living like celebrities in the cities we fled from. But to quote one of Truvy’s favorite domestic violence movies (and there are many), the Farrah Fawcett starring ‘The Burning Bed’, “You’ve got to take the bitter with the sweet”. These ARE the ridiculous things we have to put ourselves through to live in New York City. So be it, then. Bring if the fuck ON, Verizon. Suck on it, UPS. Bite me, Time Warner. You're not going to break THIS queen anytime soon.

Hipster Karma

So, the Reluctant Receptionist and I went to see Regina Spektor last Wednesday at Town Hall. I was super excited, even though in the past I’ve steered clear of Regina’s early click-singing and pounding on wooden chairs schtick. Incidentally, if you haven’t already done so, pick up her newest album “Begin to Hope” – it’s really great and has been on consistent rotation in my ipod for the last couple months.

Highlights from the evening included:

1). The obese girl sitting next to the Reluctant Receptionist who was attending the concert by herself. When she wasn’t taking frantic pictures during the concert or singing along to every song, she was leaning far forward in her chair and crying. It was horribly tragic/hilarious.

2). The unknown person who decided to light up a JOINT in TOWN HALL (Truvy, was that you?).

3). The greatest number of hipsters I have ever seen in one setting. Honestly, there must have been a greater “Last Night’s Party” contingency there than McCarran Pool, P.S. 1 and Misshapes combined. Just to provide one specific example, a guy sitting in the row in front of us had a white boy afro, v-neck t-shirt, AND ironic coke-bottle thick, large-rimmed glasses that he probably originally wore in 1989. Yeah, it was that kinda crowd. And 75% of the audience seemed to know each other, waving/yelling back and forth across the house. In stark contrast, I sat there looking like a total square, still donning my conservative banana republic threads from work (tragically, some of us have to actually hold down jobs rather than subsist on a trust fund, swill Rosé wine, and spend time thinking of new ways to be cutting edge). On a side note, I should mention it’s been an ongoing theme recently for me to exist as an eyesore at every concert I attend (Kelly Clarkson = sea of tween girls, Ashtray Simpson = sea of tween girls, KTU Beatstock = sea of guidos, etc…etc…)

4). Midway through Regina’s first set (full of quirky chair-beating and Torn Anus [1] vowel bending), someone’s cell phone/ sidekick/ blackberry near us started spitting out obnoxious beeps. As a result, the early-20’s permafrown [2] girl with the obvi-hipster scarf in front of us made the snap decision that it must have been the Reluctant Receptionist or me, and started burning into us the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen someone give another human being. We, of course, started laughing because A. it was neither of our phones and B. her reaction was wildly presumptuous and over-the-top. The beeping continued to go on for about two minutes, quickly getting everyone in the immediate vicinity supremely annoyed. Finally, we noticed HSSG (hipster scum scarf girl) leaning and grappling under the chair in front of us. More rustling, and it became evident the beeping was coming from her own phone. The stupid HSSG didn’t even know the sound of her OWN PHONE. I mean, wow. We obviously couldn’t let this opportunity go and started making loud comments to each other to the extent of: “Oh my GOD. She couldn’t stop glaring at us and it turned out to be her own phone! What an IDIOT!”. And that, my friends, is karma.

[1] Nickname for Tori Amos
[2] Nickname originally attributed to Jamie Gleicher of MTV’s ‘Rich Girls’.

Yeeeaaahhh! Rosie's ass!

Ok, one more Nip/Tuck scene.
It's pretty funny/heinous.

Rosie O'Donnell on Nip/Tuck

Are you staring at my dick?

I know this was on a few weeks ago, but I'm still obsessed. Literally, I cannot watch it enough. Mario Lopez was one of my first crushes and he's still on my short list. Actually, I think this scene may have bumped him back up to #1 (sorry, Gael Garcia).
Luvsit!

Mario Lopez on Nip/Tuck

There's only so much you can do in one place.

Check out Madonna's new video for "Jump" here.

Fruit of the Lame

You're not fooling anybody, General Mills! This shit is already on shelves nationwide and it's called Froot Loops.

My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose

Ashlee Simpson joins Chicago

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. M'Lynn Eatenton

Um, kids? Why are we being so lackadaisical with posting on this blog? This is a five-way effort here, people. Let's hop to it--especially you, Ouizer! Your posts are too delicious to be absent from the board for weeks on end.

Anyhow, I'm sure nobody cares about this but me and Shelby, but I'll say it anyway because it would really look bleak if we didn't have a new post for an entire week. Today marked an historic one: Rolanda Watts resumed her role as tough-cookie attorney Cameron Reese on our favorite TV show, Days of our Lives, just this afternoon. It's been three years since Rolonda came barging through Salem with her smart pantsuits, her patented neck shifts, and a whole can of whupass, so we're both incredibly excited to see her back--even if it is for a limited time. Rolonda, chil', keep on keepin' on!

Since I'm a total freak, I started doing some Rolonda research tonight post-TV session (Lost: Now, that is how you open a season; Top Model: Fuck off, Monique, and give me more of Miss J. and Tyra's Shug Avery at the Juke Joint routine!) and found this fun little article that mentions some enticing news: Not only is Miss Rolonda hosting a new radio show for GreenStone Media (big up to old-school feminism...whoopwhoop!), but she's also been rumored as a replacement for FPBITB*!!

Lord, just writing this post has me all flustered. I think I need to lie down now.

* Fat Piggy Boiling in the Bath refers to The Cabinet's adopted nickname (per Res. A515) for Star Jones Reynolds.