And my jewels blue and yellow/The type of shit that make 'em call you Carmelo*. (*2003-2011; “blue and orange” hasn't been rhymed with anything yet)

1. Long hair she don’t care, when she walk she get stares. All Waka songs are about pretty white girls, I just realized. This is one of the Top 10 things about being a white girl this week. And I know for certain that “6'7” is, in turn, about gigantic, beautifully-cheekboned Waka who happens to be just that many feet and inches tall. (Wayne's got a crush on him, along with almost all white girls in my neighborhood).

That's how you do the blonde-lady lounge: in black and white or muted tones, and thigh-highs holding tight to your milky skin of course.
Amanda in Interview.

YES. Yes. Yep. Oh god. Blonde lady with skinny legs, gazing toward the future. You can't deny it.
Lily in London.







Jeisa in Marie Claire. She is, sadly, not blonde, though we must still accept her as one of our own. The brown-haired are welcome at our board meetings and conventions but their powers will always be limited.
(even if they have beautiful curvy shapes on their bodies; please refer to photo immediately above)


Looking pretty and thoughtful at the same time is my overall goal in life (now that I have my master's degree).

2. Today we are pouty that we didn't get cast in that Gucci/Soulja/Gotti video and I will have to report this matter to the union, but white girls? We're still doing all right for ourselves this week, looking fine and doing important stuff. We're waiting for that Curren$y mixtape, posing in front of mirrors, wearing our red trenches on dreary days, lounging hard, wondering why a perfectly lovely Dilla beat was wasted by some jackass on a song called “Man Purses.” And we're doing laundry and grocery shopping, of course, because we're kind of boring during the week.



3. The tomboyish among us are discussing the 'Melo trade at work and with our brother because we want to keep up with the world, but we're really not that interested. Snoozeville. Besides, our favorite headband-wearer is Baron Davis, and we are sad he got shipped away so it's hard to get excited about the stupid NBA right now. Plus we only care about the Knicks when they turn up in lyrics by the residents of various NYC boroughs. We can endlessly talk about that condition Blake Griffin has that makes his eyes so close together, though. An unfortunate face, that one's got. And we love Charles Woodson and his solidarity with the nonwealthy working class (which, despite our Alexander Wang bag, we are still a proud part of).



4. We like that new PJ Harvey but not as much as the old, and we were reminded by witchy godmother Stevie Nicks on the radio today that Players only love you when they're play-innnnnn. That's some wisdom, mama - right up there with It's OK to eat fish cuz they don't have any feelings and Write down blog ideas during boring meetings at work (sit in the back and lay low, dummy).





5. We love that “The Pot” came on LA radio today when we were driving!; oh god, it turned the inside of the Civic into something cinematic and cool, thanks Justin Chancellor's swampy bass--“the midrange cut and punch for which he is known,” a quote boosted from Wikipedia but only because it's so dope. Midrange cut and punch, like a fighter. And we're still high from the four-plus minutes of Metallica we heard the other day, which was rivaled by Today's Other Best Song Heard While Out and About, “A Pair of Brown Eyes,” at the gas station (????!!?). The tune just hangs out in a girl's head hours after she hears it, and we were curious about the lyrics so we looked up both “Where the Water-Lilies Grow” and Ray and Philomena when we got home. We want to do well in music nerdery when we finally make it to Jeopardy! It's not about impressing Ken Jennings, though--he's not our type; we're more into the computer.

(We loved the Pogues when we were 16, having successfully completed our Beatles phase at 15. It was a perfect fit because we liked feeling that life was tragic but we still loved melody and Elvis Costello. We also believed that if it were 1983-88 and we were of age, we could've gotten into their shows for free based simply on the fact of being named Logan--the Gaelic discount).



6. Back at HQ, we liked that Kurupt kameo in that Snoop video. WE LOVE KURUPT. We also liked that a song called “Gangbang Rookie” turned out to not be about what we first thought it was going to be about based on its title. That was a close one.



7. Then, taking it to the eastern seaboard, we liked two-thirds of that Rae/Ghosty/Rawss song; one-third of it we hated. (We don't like the fattest one's verse, or his voice.)

What we really liked, specifically: a) Rae bragging about “swimmin through life,” because that's what we're doing too only we never thought to put it that way; b) Ghosty saying “We in the back roastin marshmallows, bottles of Cru” (not the kind of roasting a marshmallow on Urban Dictionary, perv; is that even a real thing?); and c) this, from Rae:

“Holdin my girl wedding ring,
She Medellín, name is Beretta King
Live in Alpharetta, and she never leave me”

We know from a thousand songs by males that the perfect woman is, alas, not a white girl. We hate that. How disappointing. The perfect woman is either an American- or Italian-made car, or a firearm (a loyal firearm, in Rae's case). She's also Colombian and lives in Georgia. Sigh. We've always been pretty fucking down when it comes to supporting our dude, we're willing to hold weight, but we have been humbled here. We simply cannot compete with this girl. We are too hard on ourselves sometimes, trying to be all things to all people. We should remember we have our own gifts, our strong suits--Kanye will always love us, we can always get knocked up in someone's suite after the All-Star Game and get fucking PAID dog, and we have the power and smarts to make invisibility cloaks happen! We're also thinking of becoming architects, while still doing our makeup in glittery pinks and purples like we're about to go to our night job at Magic City.



8. Abbey Clancey. We like this look and we're confident we can replicate it since we are also a skinny-legged glasses-wearing blonde with too much eyeliner. We'll never be mistaken for a member of Warpaint but that's OK.

Abbey's famous for being hot (British standards, though--not American hot) and for entrapping an athlete with her vagina. We respect this. Ha ha, gentlemen; you're just mad because you fear female sexuality and your physical limitations prevent you from taking part in this particular hustle.









9. Even our mailman and the OG white lady fox (Mom) are geeked about Odd Future at this point. This is annoying but not at all surprising. You can try to stop a freight truck but then you just give up 'cause you have weak Mr. Burns arms and it goes whooshing by, delivering LA rap to the midwest and the east. We hate that the fucking Spin article about them ended with “the future is going to be very Odd”; it literally made us go UGGHHH. OH GODDDD at the bookstore and we tossed the magazine aside in a mini-tantrum. Oh but the newest and best thing about the Fairfax boys is their affiliate Frank. We love Frank and we'd never play Drake* if Frank were in the Civic with us (since we HATE DRAKE).

* verse 2, “Songs for Women.”

mp3.



The Pogues - “Maidrín Rua” (Little Fox)

mp3.




10. Annnnnd we liked this.

We really liked this a lot! Thanks, Tumblr.

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Lady stuff, 05/02/10.

- Today in DAMN GIRL YOU KNOW YOU FINE news, lovely bird Gemma Arterton exists, has freckles, is perfect in every way. I am, in fact, trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespect-fuu-llllll, but I'm finding it difficult. If I weren't so classy and ladylike I would probably use this opportunity to try out a "People With Whom I Would Enjoy Showering" tag. Sorry, Mom.






Bobby Brown - "Roni." Nobody makes songs about vulnerable/tough homeboys anymore. If you made sweet unadulterated love at least once between the years 1988 and 1991, you did it to something Babyface produced. Then Kells took over in '92.

mp3.









- The gold standard for ass is probably the one that's shelf-like and firm enough to rest your cup on that E-40 saw in the wild once and then wrote a verse about (that's not it, above). Mine (above) is a close second, and coming in third is the one from '99 that was so fat you could see it from the front.

Ass, the New York Times says, is the new breasts in that a lot of ladies are trying to fake it with surgery and padded things that lift and add thickness and curvature. Aw. Mutilation and trompe l'oeil effects aren't sexy. Leave ass alone, that's what I say.










- Gothamist reports that residents of the Sister Thomas Apartments, a low-income building in the South Bronx, "are so disgusted by the combined odors from a sewage plant and trash transfer station that they're considering a plan to pump perfume into their building." HA HA, Juice Crew! Murdered yet again by the superior borough!

"The idea is the brainchild of environmental justice advocate and MacArthur 'genius' Award winner Majora Carter, who enlisted the help of (a) Parisian perfumer to create a new fragrance for the Bronx Building. It's called L'Eau Verte du Bronx du Sud, which means 'Green Water of the South Bronx.'

The building's management company wants to release the perfume into the building through a rooftop air unit, and Carter tells the Daily News she hopes the fragrance will remind residents of 'the connection between everyday life and nature.' Tenants still need to approve the plan, but building manager Sal Gigante is certain they'll greenlight the perfume, which he insists is far superior to the current odor of 'decaying rat carcass.'" Teehee.

As odd as it looked, as wild as it seemed, I didn't hear a peep from a place called Queens even though it seems like at this point in his career Nas should have his own fragrance. This story is being included in a post called "Lady stuff" because it's about perfume, and because real ladies love BDP*. My posse from the Bronx is THICK. (that was used in a Camp Lo song, I think. I need it.)


*The above photo had to be named BDP 13, which is indicative of how much hard drive space I have dedicated to images of this troupe.






- Utah and its assemblage of bad facial hair fell to the mighty in game 1, obviously. This is part of "lady stuff" because gentlemen, we judge you by your facial hair and we point and laugh when it's that conspicuously manicured, even if you're Lloyd Banks and make delicious popular rap that makes a girl feel good about being alive while driving through the city despite the fact that she's behind the wheel of a late-'90s Civic.






















Natural and free and unfettered and lightly tended to is what we love, like the 7-foot tall Spaniard's. I hope to see changes in the next game so the series is at least a little interesting.






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