Monthly Archives: June 2010

Minotaurs are Stomping the Nation!

Posted on June 30, 2010 by | 4 Comments

Happy early birthday to me!

You all know about my fucking Minotaur problem. I won’t shut up about it. Well, this morning, I awoke to SILENCE because the Minotaur is out of town until Thursday, and then it is apparently going on vacation to Minotaur Island to get some hot grunty Minotaur lovin’.

Needless to say, I’ve been happier than Sarah Palin at a wolf-hunting convention. Seriously y’all. I hate waking up in the morning. Every morning that I have to wake up before 8:30 a.m. is the worst day of my life. I’m not even kidding.

Luckily, I have worked for my bosses for going on 6 years now, so they have become accustomed to me showing up at work no earlier then 10 a.m. (unless I have a court appearance) and receiving emails and documents from me at three in the morning. That’s just how I roll, son.

I’ve got the insomnia, and I’ve got it bad. I love the nightlife… I like to boogie–first person to name the movie reference will be added to my list of People Not to Set on Fire–and I get most of my best work done between the hours of 11 p.m. and 2 a.m. I sleep on average about 5 or 6 hours a night. I need a good big sleep once every couple of weeks, but for me, a big sleep is 8 hours…maybe 9. Sleep is dumb. Who needs sleep? You can sleep when you’re dead.

Considering my hatred of waking up in the morning, you can imagine what it must be like for me to wake up to the cloppity clop of the Minotaur. It’s like being woken up by the sound of heavy artillery fire. I wake up in a panic, like “What the fuck is going on!?!?” It’s not the best way to start one’s day, is what I’m saying.

But the Minotaur has been so silent lately, I’d almost forgotten it existed. It’s been glooooorious!

So this morning, I woke up at the crack of 9 a.m. (after having worked until 2:30 a.m., thankyouverymuch) and started puttering around the house getting ready for work. Suddenly, my doorbell rang. Of course Nate Dogg started barking like Mad Dog 20/20. So I peek out the window and see the postman walking away. He didn’t even ring twice! What an asshole. The postman always rings twice. Them’s the rules.

So I open the door thinking it would be a package from Amazon containing my friend Ernessa T. Carter’s book, 32 Candles, but it wasn’t. I’m not going to say what it was was better–I’m pretty sure that Ernessa’s book is going to fucking rock–but it was pretty exciting! I never get random packages from people. Well, rarely. A couple close friends have sent me bacon salts, packages of cheese, and Baconnaise. (You know who you are — ::cough lisaandcait cough::) But this package wasn’t from them. It was from one of my readers! (And my real estate agent***, except not really because before I could get to the whole “I’m going to buy a condo thing,” I lost my mind and had to go on medical leave. Let’s call her a friend and an Angry Black Reader.)

So I open up the package, and there’s another package inside, all wrapped in birthday paper! “What the..?” I thought. I so rarely get birthday presents–I couldn’t get my ex-boyfriend to even acknowledge my birthday, or any holiday for that matter. He thought it was contrarian and cool. (He was mistaken; it’s actually obnoxious and dooshy… but I digress.) Furthermore, I almost never get presents sent to me in the mail! All wrapped up and pretty like! (Hey, I’m not complaining. All the birthday presents I dole out tend to be gift certificates or “hey, let me take you out to dinner” cop-outs.)

Anyway, here was this perfectly nice woman from whom I did not buy a condo, sending me a birthday present a full week before my birthday! YAY! Eagerly, I opened the package… and then I died right in my own face of the laughter:

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During California University Fundraising Speech, Sarah Palin Goes Rogue on Facts About Ronald Reagan

Posted on June 28, 2010 by | Leave a comment

It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, y’all.

'Cuz this is THRILLAAHH!!

Over the weekend, Sarah Palin was the keynote speaker at a fundraiser at California State University-Stanislaus. You can imagine how it went down; you know how she likes to do — just blinkin’ and winkin’, throwin’ “you betchas” hither and yon, wearin’ Thriller jackets, and occasionally pausing to go ‘copter huntin’.

Let’s just say she’s not too hip to the book learnin’.

So, when she praised the Lord Reagan during her speech and said that he attended Eureka College in California, let’s just say she done screwed up. Ronald Reagan did go to Eureka College. And there is a city called Eureka in California. But there’s no college in the city of Eureka. (There is, apparently, a Chicken Wing festival coming up in September, sponsored by BAMU (Businesses Against Meth Use… no, seriously.) Ronnie was born in Illinois and attended Eureka College in Illinois. He moved to California, like, later.

From the Alaska Dispatch:

“Oh my. You had to figure this might happen when Sarah Palin, one-time best governor of Alaska, started pallin’ around with those journalist types there at Fox News. Or any of those journalist types there in the lamestream media, you know. The makin’ things up and gettin’ things confused is dangerously contagious.


So here is Alaska’s ex-governor addressing a California State University-Stanislaus fundraiser over the weekend:


“…this is Reagan country and (applause), YEAH! And perhaps it was destiny that the man who went to California’s Eureka College would become so woven within and inter-linked to the Golden State.” (You can watch it yourself at about minute 4:30 into a rockin’, rollin’, rollickin’ speech.)


Well, as Reagan liked to say, California is the Golden State, and he did become inter-linked with it. And yes, as Reagan also liked to say, he did go to a Eureka College, but it wasn’t in California.


No, Eureka College is half a continent away in the flatlands of Illinois. Reagan attended school there from 1928 to 1932. He was the school’s top collegiate swimmer, a three-year letterman in football, and appeared in 14 plays. He left after graduation in 1932 to take a job as a sports announcer in Davenport, Iowa, which is closer to California but still a long way from it.

Okay, looky here, Sarah. I understand that people make mistakes. I understand that you might forget a fact or two, or get something wrong on occasion. I mean, sure… you are Lady Conservative of Republicanshire, so one would think that you’d have committed to memory all known information about Ronald Reagan, especially since he is only, like, the GOP’s all-time favorite Republican ever in the history of things.

But, hey. It’s not like if you just up and asked me where Obama was born, I would be able to tell you. (Kenya, right?)

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Posted in Please Die in a Fire, Political Shenanigans, Sarah Palin and Tall

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Mexican Singer El Shaka Shot Dead, Hours After Announcing He Wasn’t Dead

Posted on June 28, 2010 by | 2 Comments

Who you tryin’ to get crazy with, esse?  Don’t you know I’m LOCO?

This isn’t a funny story.  I shouldn’t laugh when people die.  But, remember how I’m inappropriate?  I warned you.

Apparently, the shit is going down in Mexico these days.  Obviously there are the drug cartel wars.  Also, Spring Break was just a few months ago; I hear that Cancun still has not replenished its cache of tiny test tubes.

There’s also some sort of literal Battle of the Bands going on down in Mexico, except this time, it’s not a bunch of pimply emo kids making Loud Musical Noises in some dive bar, and competing to be crowned Most Likely to Get Laid Later.  Oh, no.  This is some Serious Shit:

Sergio Vega – known as El Shaka – has been shot dead just hours after he denied reports he had been murdered.


The 40-year-old Mexican singer was shot and killed on Saturday (June 26) while driving his red Cadillac, according to Mexican media. He was on his way to a concert in Sinaloa state.


Hours before the shooting, Vega told the website La Oreja that earlier rumours and reports of his murder had been mistaken. He said he had increased his security measures after the murders of other artists.


Vega was signed to Disa Records, and his latest album, “Quién Es Usted?” peaked at No.29 on Billboard’s Top Latin Albums chart last year. His most recent single, “Millonario de Amor,” was beginning to get airplay on the regional Mexican airplay chart last month.


Vega is the latest casualty in a string of high-profile murders that have rocked the regional Mexican music world since the murder of banda singer Valentín Elizalde in November 2006. In the ensuing year, more than 10 regional Mexican musicians were murdered, including Sergio Gomez, leader of duranguense group K-Paz de la Sierra.


The following year, four members of Herederos de Sinaloa were killed in an ambush, and in 2009, the drummer for Conjunto Atardecer was shot to death in an attack that also left four others dead.


Also last year, Juan Carlos Casillas Castañeda, whose company Producciones Esperanza booked and managed regional Mexican artists, was shot to death as he left a wedding.


Most recently, on June 12, in what appears to be a case of random violence, the son of Mexican singer Joan Sebastian was killed in a bar fight. José Sebastian Figueroa was shot by a security guard outside a bar in Cuernavaca. Four years earlier, in August, 2006, another of Sebastian’s sons, Trigo Figuero, was shot and killed after a concert by his father in Texas.

Um, Mexico?  I don’t mean to interrupt… but… WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?  This reads like a movie script written by an eight year-old.

It’s like Blade Runner meets La Bamba.


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Jason Bateman Wrongfully Accused of Being an Asshat

Posted on June 28, 2010 by | 2 Comments

Him?  COME ON!!

Last week, US Weekly — the most reputable news agency on the planet — reported that Jason Bateman acted asshattedly.  Reportedly, he cut in line ahead of the hoi polloi in order to buy the new iPhone:

Jason Bateman outraged 2,000 people Thursday when he cut in line to get a new iPhone at a Los Angeles Apple store.


A line was wrapped outside the store when the actor, 41, arrived.


After just a short time waiting, he was plucked out and escorted straight inside!


“Everyone literally started booing and hissing!” a source tells UsMagazine.com.


Adds another witness, “The crowd freaked and booed, and he put his head down.”

But it was all lies!  LIES, I say!  Bateman took to Twitter to set the record straight:

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Chris Brown Cried Like a Damn Fool at the BET Awards

Posted on June 28, 2010 by | 4 Comments

The “WTF!?” look on John Legend’s face said it all.

Somebody call a wahmbulance!

I watched the BET Awards last night.  It was 3 hours of Negro shenanigans hosted by Queen Latifah who felt the need to change into every costume she’s ever worn in any movie.  I half expected her to drive up on stage in a taxi cab with Jimmy Fallon riding shotgun.

There were a couple touching moments.  John Legend got the Humanitarian Award.  He’s fantastic.  That’s all I have to say about that.  Don’t believe me?  Check after the jump for video proof of his WIN.

Prince got a Lifetime Achievement Award.  During his speech, he had some words of advice; he said that he was wild in his younger days (Ya think?) and that you (meaning YOU, CHRIS BROWN!) don’t have to take the same path.  Then he thanked Jehovah and continued to try to convince us that Darling Nikki never happened.

Patti LaBelle belting out Purple Rain, kicking her shoes off into the crowd, and Prince grabbing one and holding it up high in a sign of victory, was pretty awesome.  I practically expected him to raise up the shoe and say “PRINCE!” à la “STEVE HOLT!”

Chris Brown did a tribute to Michael Jackson that was pretty decent up until it got rick-dickulous.  His moves were just aight; they aren’t as sharp as MJ’s, but really, whose are?  Except for Janet’s.  Frankly, I was hoping that Janet would walk up on stage and show us how shit really is done.  But, I reckon she had the sense to stay home and away from all the Negro Nonsense.***

And then the ridiculous happened:  He started to sing Man in the Mirror, but was, seemingly, so overcome with “Hot damn, I really wish I hadn’t beaten the crap out of Rihanna last year, so lemme weep and sing/talk about ‘take a look in the mirror and make  a change!’ and maybe if I fall to my knees and really dial those tears up to eleven, all the people who now think I’m a misogynistic dick will forgive me.”

Um.  No.

I’m not buying your crocodile tears, asshat.  Next time just don’t hit a woman, and then you won’t have to act the fool on stage in front of Biebs**** and everybody.

Rihanna didn’t show up.  I would have loved to see her face while he was up there crying like a jackass.

[video after the jump]

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Posted in Celebrity Shenanigans, Please Die in a Fire

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Angry Black Lady is Available for Parties

Posted on June 26, 2010 by | 2 Comments

Call Now.  Operators Are Standing By.

Sometimes my friends ask me to write crap for them.  Evites.  Sassy letters.  Emails.  Last wills and testaments — well, just the one time.  The probate lawyer deemed it invalid… just because it said, “I bequeath all my shit to Angry Black Lady.  The rest of y’all get bupkis.” Whatever.

Moving on… This week, I wrote an evite for my friend’s birthday.  The party was last night; it was a hoot.  I think.  There was tequila involved.  I don’t really know.  Why are you asking so many questions?  I said I don’t know!

But back to the point of this post: This is the text of the evite.  I’m posting it here for posterity.  And for my posterior.


ANGRY BLACK LADY PRESENTS L—- J—-’S BIRTHDAY

Hot diggity damn, y’all! It’s LJ’s birthday. She’s turning 24. Or maybe 23. I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that she’s young as fuck. She grew up in the age of Britney and ‘N Sync. I grew up in the age of NKOTB and Vanilla Ice. She had a cell phone at age 16. I was using a rotary phone at 16. She’s a happy white girl. I’m an angry black lady. She has her entire life ahead of her; I broke my hip while writing this sentence. She’s from Tennessee and has a sweet southern disposition. I’m from Philly and will set you on fire.


LJ is the shit. She’s the jam. She’s so hardcore, she’ll drink the worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle, regurgitate it, and then eat it again. Her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. I don’t think you’re ready for her jelly. She’s like a fresh bag of Skittles — open her up and taste the fucking rainbow.


Come to LJ’s party. Don’t be an asshat. Do it. Don’t make me come over there.


Bring your friends. Bring your friends’ friends. Bring that guy friend of yours whose peen you’ve always admired from afar. Bring that girl whose vagine you’ve yearned to touch. That guy you met at Canter’s at 3 a.m.? Bring him. If all goes as planned, everyone will get laid. Or arrested. Or laid and then arrested.


The shit is going down on Friday night. And when the shit goes down, you better be ready. So get ready, motherfuckers.


If you can’t come she’ll understand. She’s nice like that; she’ll say a little prayer for you and keep right on guzzling tequila. But me? I will kill your face.


So, if you’re not coming, start running. I’m charging my flamethrower.


Here’s another invitation that I wrote a couple of years ago for a joint birthday party for me and my friend HNK:

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Posted in I Am Batshit Insane, Miscellany, Personal Tales

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Please Nominate Angry Black Lady Chronicles for the 2010 Black Weblog Awards

Posted on June 26, 2010 by | 9 Comments

I entered.  You nominate.  Somebody wins.  Hopingly me.

So after some debate with Nate Dogg, I have decided to cast my metaphorical hat into the ring–I’m entering the 2010 Black Weblog Awards. 

So, do me a solid, won’t you?  Nominate me for Best Humor Blog, Best Writing in a Blog, and/or Blog to Watch.*** Please vote by July 25, 2010.

And, check the sidebar, for I will be featuring some of my Angry Black Favorites.  If you read them, you will agree that I’m exactly awesome and deserve to be crowned Nubian Queen of the Internets or whatever.

Besides, if you nominate me, I’ll send you something in the mail — like toenail clippings, or maybe some of Nate Dogg’s fur.


***Only one vote per IP address, and probably best not to nominate me, for like, everything since I don’t want to get disqualified or some shit.  But hey, who am I to tell you what to do.  YOU DO WHAT YOU WANT!  ATTICA!  ATTICA!!

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Posted in Angry Black Reader Participation, Personal Tales

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Seinfeld asks, “What is the DEAL with Lady Gaga?”

Posted on June 24, 2010 by | 10 Comments

Calls her a jerk.  (It’s hard to disagree.)

Lady Gaga has been acting the fool at baseball games.  She may or may not have  been banned from the Yankees clubhouse because of her shenanigans at the Yankees/Mets game a few days ago, and a week prior, she acted the fool at a Mets game in Jerry Seinfeld’s box.  (That doesn’t sound right, but I shall soldier on, nonetheless.)

Gaga barged into the Yankees clubhouse after the Yankees had lost to the Mets and was all drunk and slurring about how much she loves the Yankees. Needless to say, they weren’t particularly stoked about it since they had just had their asses handed to them by the Mets.

As a result of her tomfoolery, Steinbrenner cleverly deemed her “persona non gaga.” ::rimshot::

Eight days prior, she pissed off Mets fan Jerry Seinfeld.  After swilling beer and flipping off the Mets (in a studded bikini, because she’s classy, y’all), she was booted from her front seat and moved into Seinfeld’s box.  He was none to pleased, needless to say:

“This woman is a jerk. I hate her,” Seinfeld said during a WFAN radio interview on Monday, perhaps . “I can’t believe they put her in my box, which I paid for.”


Gaga, dressed in bra and swilling beer, was moved from her front row seat to Seinfeld’s empty box (without his knowledge) after flipping off photographers.


“You give people the finger and you get upgraded? Is that the world we’re living in now?” he said.


Seinfeld first said when asked about the June 10th incident, reports the NY Post, “I wish her the best.. you take one ‘A’ off of that and you’ve got gag.”


“I don’t know what these young people think or how they promote their careers,” Seinfeld said. “I’m older, I’m 56. I look at Lady Gaga the way Keith Hernandez watches these kids when they pull the pocket out, they wear the inside-out pocket. … Do you think he understands that? He can’t understand that. That’s a new game, that’s kids.”


He added, “I’m not one of these all-publicity-is-good people. People talk about you need exposure — you could die of exposure.”

I’m waiting for the inevitable Britneyfication of Gaga.  Somebody wake me up when she shaves her head.

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My Band Nerd Skills Gave Me Great Satisfaction the Other Day

Posted on June 24, 2010 by | 3 Comments

I was a dork.

So, I was a band geek.  I admit.  I was in high school band; regular and jazz.  I started playing clarinet when I was 8, and was in a variety of city and youth orchestras all through middle, junior, and high school.

On Saturdays, I would wake up at 8 a.m. so I could get to Philadelphia Youth Orchestra practice by 9 a.m.  After Youth Orchestra ended at noon, I would rush down to South Street where I had woodwind quintet from 1 pm to 4 pm.  By the time I took a bunch of buses and subways home, I was wiped.  But I kept doing it.  I loved it.  And sometimes I hated it.  But mostly, I loved it.

I ultimately ended up at Oberlin College, which has one of the top conservatories in the country (alongside Julliard, Curtis, Berklee, Peabody, Eastman, Indiana University, New England Conservatory of Music yadda yadda yadda)–not that I got in or anything.  Even though I was one of the top clarinetists in my high school (and in the city I guess, although I never made it past second chair in the Philly Youth Orchestra), I really was shite compared to the clarinetists who were accepted into the Conservatory.  I was good enough, however, to take lessons with the associate professor of clarinet (I can’t for the life of me remember his name.)  If at the end of my first year, it was determined that I had the stones to be in the Conservatory, then they’d let me in.  That was cool, I guess.  Except, by the end of the year, I was over it and dropped out.  I decided to be a lawyer and an English major.  It does too make sense.

The point is, while I was a music major, I took a lot of music classes: on theory, classical era, romantic era, baroque era, jazz.  I was all music all the time.  I remember in my Classical WhatevertheHell Music Class, the professor would play us a piece of music and we’d have to determine who the composer was and what key it was in.   It was some serious shit.  Needless to say, having spent 15 years playing and listening to and studying classical music, I have a pretty damn good ear for it.

Which leads me to the point of this rambling: The other day I was listening to Antonin Dvorak’s New World Symphony. It’s one of my favorites and I’ve listened to it a hundred times.  But this time, I noticed something:



JAWS, y’all.  I’d never noticed it before:

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