hot mess

single ladies: a breakdown of beyonce

All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies, now put your hands up

^ alright, i can get with this, girl power!

Up in the club (club)
We just broke up (Up)
I’m doing my own lil’ thing

^ you *just* broke up and you’re already at the club?  did you time this breakup to end by midnight so you wouldn’t arrive to the club “too early”?  and in any case who else’s “thing” are you doing?  aren’t we always ” doin’ our own lil thing”?  is this about to become some ‘3 faces of eve’ shit?

You decided to dip (dip)
And now you wanna trip (trip)
Cause another brother noticed me

^  ok he broke up with you, and yall somehow ended up at the same club at the same time on the same night as your split.  that does seem a bit creepy, why would he go to a club you were going to be in if he just broke up with you?  why would he trip seeing you with someone else if he just got through telling you he didn’t want to be with you anymore?  did you go to that club to “show him what he’s missing” or make him jealous?  i’m pretty sure dude is mad at you because you came to the club and acted like a whore in front of him the very same night yall stopped exchanging fluids on an official level.  

I’m up on him (him)
He up on me (me)
Don’t pay him any attention

^ too late - you just sang, recorded, and made money from a verse about him. 

‘Cause I’ve cried my tears (tears)
For three good years (years)
You can’t be mad at me

^ hold up - dude made you cry for 3 years?  over a thousand days?  and yet the same night he dumps you, you’re out in the club?  shouldn’t you be crying right now?  drowning your sorrows and anger in multiple bottles of wine and stouffers mac & cheese?  don’t your girlfriends have plans for this kind of thing - plans that involve coming right over, getting drunk with you, talking shit about him, and generally not going out to the club to grind on guys?  i get it.  you’re liberated and you want to shove in his face what a catch you were, make him regret how much he fucked up by letting you go.  but the same night you broke up?  really beyonce?  that’s the kind of thing stalkers (and teenagers) do.  you are beyonce!  if he didn’t appreciate your value the entire 3 years he was with you, what the hell makes you think it is all going to click in his head the minute he sees you shaking your million dollar ass with another guy? 

Cause if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it

^ oh, right. so you would have lived with crying all the time until question marks if he’d proposed to and married you.  if only he’d bought you some jewelry that would have made making you feel like shit on the regular tolerable. 

I got gloss on my lips (lips)
A man on my hips (hips)
Hold me tighter than my Dereon jeans

^ come on bey, what kind of tight bitch only wears gloss to the club?  what, did you wear your period panties and some sweatpants to the club that night too?  did you drive yourself there in a 1984 volvo?  are you drinking budwieser?  we see what you did there bey - nice namedrop of your “haus of haut mess” denim. 

Actin’ up (up)
Drinkin’ my cup (cup)
I can care less what you think

^ “i can care less” typically implies that one would be so disinterested they wouldn’t perform an entire song about whatever fuck it is they are not giving.  i suppose the drink being in a cup is better than messing up your weaves doing keg-stands, or having to drink water from the sink in the bathroom (which i would expect from you now since you’re so tight you only wear gloss to the club.)

I need no permission
Did I mention?
Don’t pay him any attention

^  did you need permission before?  everything else we’ve seen you do in the past 10 years doesn’t correlate with the image and actions of someone that needs to ask for permission.

 
- “permission to be beyonce?”
- “permission granted”

and yes bey, you mentioned it (more than once, which i think most of us would consider “paying attention to it.”)

Cause you had your turn (turn)
And now you’re gonna learn (learn)
What it really feels like to miss me

^ had your turn?  what, are we in line for the slide?  how can he miss you when you showed up to the same club right after he dumped you?!?  do you have a tardis?  your concept of time is rather liberal.

Don’t treat me to these things of the world

^ what like dudes to grind on and shitty ex boyfriends?  drinks in cups?  lipgloss?

I’m not that kind of girl
Your love is what I prefer, what I deserve

^ no, you’re the kind of girl that shows up to the club after a break up just to make her freshly exed boyfriend jealous.  if his love is what you “deserve” you’re saying you deserve the “love” of a man that made you cry for several years.

Here’s a man that makes me then takes me and delivers me

^ you just met him in a club bey.  i don’t hear any lines about pizza or babies so what exactly has he delivered?  he “makes” you?!?  girl, your momma and daddy made you. 

To a destiny, to infinity and beyond

^ you brought both fate and buzz lightyear in to this equation.  kind of understanding why dude dumped you now.


Pull me into your arms
Say I’m the one you want

^ and what if he doesn’t?

If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost I’ll be gone

^ that answers that then.  by the way i’m pretty sure ghosts aren’t perpetually in a state of being “gone” - some of them haunt people (kind of like what you’re doing in the club right now, on purpose.)

All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies (all the single ladies)
All the single ladies, now put your hands up

^ i’m not sure i want to now. 

Wha-oh-oh
Cause if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it

^ look beyonce, i “like” a lot of things but that doesn’t mean i want to wife them up.  i like kittens, cake, cartoons, and coloring books but you don’t see me trying to buy them jewelry and commit the rest of my life to them. 

sympathy for the devil: why i suddenly feel sorry for russell brand

so we’ve all heard the unsurprising “news” that katy perry and russell brand are getting divorced.  katy has given statements to the press, highlighting the reason for their split as “russells disrespect for her parents religious beliefs.”

let me get my wellies on so i can wade through all this bullshit.


first of all, you crash landed in the “music scene” with lyrics like “i kissed a girl and i liked it…” you have videos of your cupcake frosted titties with sparklers in them running 20+ times a day on MTV and VH1.  in fact your boobs are on parade just about every time you leave the house, and when you hit the red carpet they take center stage in every photo.  your boobs got you banned from sesame street, the most tolerant street in america!  you done gone and showed us all your jiggly bits, bought your momma a face-lift (does christ approve of that?), but russell brand is “disrespectful” to your evangelical parents?  can you tell the rest of us what, exactly, is secular about your “work” please?  because right now from where we’re standing you have dissed your moms and pops more than russell brand has.  so your momma is ok with you paying their mortgage and funding her facelifts off the money you make from being a sex-symbol, but russell brand is the asshole here?  riiiiiiiight.  “i didn’t know what he was really like” etc etc. 

REALLY?!?


katy perry do you know what google is?  5 minutes on the internet would have given you plenty of information before hauling off and MARRYING russell brand.  he devoted an entire book to his sexual exploits, thoughts on religion, and experiences being a drugged out comedian.  this fool even called his book something crazy like “my booky wook” and detailed ALL of this.  russell brand refers to his junk like a 6 year old talks about their privates in public.  he gave you an autographed copy of this book when you started banging!  so you had the *autographed* “booky wooky” (whatever), google search, and more than enough time to get to know him, but he’s the one at fault? 


what did you think was going to happen when you MARRIED RUSSELL BRAND?!?!?  it’s not like you were pimping yourself out as a wholesome person, with your photoshopped mammaries and crappy “rockabilly” alt chick “style.”  you wanted to be perceived edgy, you met someone edgy, you married edgy.  russell brand is not even on my top 50 british people i’d spend recreational time with, but i can promise you he’s probably a lot more interesting and genuine than you are.  so what if he “likes wheelchair porn?”  what does it tell you when a “sex addict” would rather watch wheelchair porn than have actual sexual intercourse with his cupcake tittied wife?  IT MEANS YOU ARE BORING AND ANNOYING.

^ what do your parents and jesus christ have to say about this?

look at you acting all heartbroken in public.  not sure who you think you’re fooling, but i don’t believe for a second that you took your responsibilities as a wife remotely seriously.  what kind of woman, knowing full well the man she married is a recovering alcoholic / drug addict, habitually goes out drinking and comes home stinking of tequila?  better still, when he was giving his tribute to amy winehouse (which was actually touching and insightful) your watered-down no talent ass was drunk in the FRONT ROW while he was giving that speech.  your manpiece is going to AA meetings and you’re stumbling home slurring about whatever it is you talk about in real life (probably unicorns and flowers and glitter.)  the hell is wrong with you?  don’t even think of coming at us on the “we had a 9 year age gap” or the “russell wanted kids and i need to focus on my career” tip either.  you are 27 years old - old enough to know how to stop being an embarrassing drunk, and soon enough you will have no “career” to speak of. 


as an american living in the UK, it needs to be said - you are embarrassing.  i shudder to think that when people meet me they might think about other couples with the UK / USA thing and the only people they can summon to mind are yourself, gwenyth paltrow, gwen stefani, and madonna.  thankfully tori amos is holding it down on the actual music AND not being a crappy american wife front.  maybe that’s the problem?  maybe UK men should be seeking southern women?  granted we southern belles don’t have sparkling boobs or a catalog of ridiculous “music” to make a name for ourselves, but at least we know better than to turn up to an amy winehouse memorial service drunk off our ass.

a world without Pat Butcher is not one i’m prepared to live in

at the beginning of 2012, the soap world lost an icon.  she was most recently known as Pat Evans, but anyone that’s been to walford knows she always was (and will always be) Pat Butcher.  gracing television screens worldwide on the BBC serial soap ‘eastenders’, it wasn’t long before she found a way in to the hearts of millions.  in her 25 years on the square, we all learned a thing or two about ourselves and humanity - it would be hard not to with someone like Patricia Louise in your life.  so, what have we learned?

it’s not so much what you wear as it is how you wear it.

if your parents had a tv license (or you had PBS in america and watched it sunday nights) then you have definitely witnessed the spectacle of walford’s very own Pat Butcher.  her wafting neon polyester pattern spree went well beyond the 80s, the viking-esque shoulder pads competing for attention with heavily frosted blue eyeshadow…  there was always an air of something “brave” about her style choices (and not just because all that polyester can be a fire hazard.) in fact every time she walked around the square in that raggedy fur coat i half expected her to burst in to songs about cats, and yet somehow despite looking like a thrift store threw up on her, she rocked that shit like nobody else.  Pat Butcher expressed herself through her attire - big, loud, bold, tacky, upfront, unapologetic…  simply not giving a fuck. 

“tarts with a heart” can experience “true love” ( aka “hookers are people too.” )

even though Pat was handing out tickets to the pound town express in walford like p. diddy throwing dollar bills in strip clubs, she married 4 times!  FOUR TIMES.  seriously yall she was only in walford for 25 years.  look at that for a second.  now…  would you believe me if i told you she only had one true love?  one spinning bow-tie wearing, christmas ruining love of her life?  she loved frank butcher so much she took care of his kids after he peaced-out on all of them (more than once might i add.)  they had a 10+ year affair on top of actually being married to eachother for almost half a decade, and i think even married people they knew were wrong for them just to try and stay away from eachother.  frank and Pat ruined people’s lives because they could not live without eachother, consequences be damned.  in the months leading up to her passing, Pat was heard saying several times how she was “ready to go and be with frank.”  this is a woman that had a family around her and she wanted to die just so she could kick it with frank butcher in the afterlife.  Pat may have let many men gain entry to her ladybits, but only frank had her heart. 

you can be a crap parent and redeem yourself with extended family later in life ( as long as you stop being a mouthy drunken prostitute. )

it is true that Pats biological sons ended up “bad seeds” to varying degrees, most likely due to the perpetual neglect and conflict that comes with having a drunken hooker for a mom.  when she married frank (3rd husband/soulmate), she took his kids janine and ricky under her wing, doing her best to make a better go of parenthood.  janine and “fat pat” (as she called her) were always destined to beef, but Pats hard-face softened around ricky.  eventually this led to Pat becoming the head of a family, a very different role after years in the game of pay-to-lay and trying it on with everyone in walford.  Pat was on the road to a happy family life for the latter part of her time in walford because she made the effort - the way she embraced this second chance at motherhood (and being a grandmother) showed us that it is never too late to learn from your mistakes (just make sure to marry someone else with kids, drink a bit less, and find a job that doesn’t involve monetary transactions for sex.)

seniors are horny

can you think of anyone with a dingaling in her age range that Pat *didn’t* bone?  as long as i’m talking about this i just want to go ahead and give the BBC props for forcing the mostly young-ish audience of eastenders to get their heads around the fact that people over 60 still enjoy orgasms.  newsflash - old people are scroggin’ all the time!  Pat got hers whenever she wanted it, and most of the time with whomever she wanted.  she let her freak flag fly, encouraging patrick to keep his hat on during the act.  my girl had game right up until she died.  you had better believe there are going to be a bunch of sad old men at her funeral. 

Pat Butcher IS earrings. 

while my “massive earrings” collection is pretty impressive (19 pairs at time of typing) it will never hold a candle to Pats stash.  all of her earrings were big, they were crazy, some of them sparkled, some of them blinded you, some of them even made you shake your head and think “oh Pat, i love you.”  most of those earrings transcended the word “accessories” and yet they are coveted around the world.  Pats earrings immediately became part of her identity not just to residents of walford, but to the viewers at home. i’ll never forget the day roy (husband number 4) told her to take them off and called them “vulgar” - on the night of its airing it was probably the gasp heard ‘round britain.  Pat without her earrings?  for a man she didn’t really love?  unheard of. inconceivable.  Pat without her massive earrings is like marilyn manson without the freaky contact lenses, like the night sky without stars, like cat memes without the internet.  Pat Butcher IS earrings… 

“take care babe” - frank butcher

… but that’s not all she was.  Pat came to the square in 1986, on her back adorned with huge earrings.  she left it the same way.  she showed us what it is to marry 4 men in 25 years.  she showed us that hoes have emotions (and families!)  she showed us that polyester clothing isn’t a death sentence for your sex life.  this was a woman that could emasculate a grown man in less than 10 words, stand up for the ladies in the pub like a feminist head-teacher, and wore a pair of clip-on 4 inch rhinestone chandeliers like a pimptress.  she was a friend, an enemy, a lover, a thug (she beat shirley carters ass!), a grandmother, a mistress, a barmaid, a prostitute, a wife times four, and a mother hen to many that came and went through albert square.  she was walford. 

i now leave you with an image from one of my favorite moments:  Pat and peggy in a sweets van drunk off vodka professing their love for eachother. 

freckle oblivion

we’ve all seen the pictures (though some of us have been drinking heavily to forget) and one element is noticeably missing.  where are her “sun kisses”?  you know something isn’t right with the world when the first thing you notice in a half nekkid spread of lindsay lohan is the absence of her freckles.  your eyes are not immediately drawn to the candy-pink overly glossed innertube lips, nor the breast implants that appear to have migrated to her cheeks, not even the world-renowned “decent pair of tits” - no, instead of using the magic of (squeezing the life out of?) photoshop to help her look like less of a rubber-faced entitled crackhead fame hooker, they airbrush her freckles into oblivion.

those freckles now exist in an alternate reality where rabies is a sexually transmitted disease, grilled cheese sandwiches fall like raindrops, dogs in china are cooking humans, and lindsay lohan reads books.  those freckles are going for coffee with animals from narnia and zaphod beeblebrox.  those freckles are taking lone starr and barfs orders in a space cafe.  those freckles should have been in playboy.

my love letter to the holiday shopping massive

for the attention of those i assume are normal people 11 months of the year,

you don’t need to be angry.  it’s just shopping.  you are exchanging money for items you want to give to people you care about.  it’s not a race, it’s not a mosh pit, and it’s certainly not something worth getting pea-soup-spitting crazy over. you don’t need to fume while waiting in long lines to pay for stuff - why are you angry at standing?  the stores ran out of the toy you wanted to get your kid and this is suddenly the end of the world?  while you’re in line tweeting to everyone in cyberspace from your smartphone about how much shopping for gifts this time of year kills your will to live, take a minute to google image search bosnia - i think you’ll find it lends some perspective to your current shopping situation.

i’m not some bleeding heart hippie; it defies any logic to get so stressed out and aggro over presents during a time of year that is meant to be happy and reflective.  just make some food and spend time with your family, call your friends, get drunk with relatives you don’t get along with, whatever.  stop stressing about the meal and the gifts and everything else. don’t the pretty lights make this cold weather feel bearable?  isn’t it fun to watch kids crying on santa’s lap every year?  what, are groups of drunk sluts dressed as elves everywhere for several weeks not good enough for you?  putting out small fires started by faulty christmas lights, simultaneously burning and undercooking a turkey, watching grandmothers get drunk on sherry, arguing over whether or not it’s appropriate to watch ‘the passion of the christ’, pretending not to hate the worst gift you’ve ever received in front of your family, nearly divorcing over how to set up and decorate the tree…  these are the reasons for the season ( most importantly free stuff in the form of presents time with loved ones. )

fellow holiday shoppers, maybe next year we can try to make it fun for everyone?   take a valium, smoke a blunt, have a few shots of jager?  better still, volunteer at a shelter and check yourself.