You are currently browsing posts tagged with L.A.M.E.
BRITNEY: Y’all, I can’t believe that opening night of this tour has gone on without an itch! I’m so excited, ladies, I wanna poop my pants!
DANCER (LEFT): Brit, I think what you mean is “off without a hitch.”
DANCER (RIGHT): Yeah, it’s definitely “hitch.”
BRITNEY: Wait, y’all sure? My mama always said without an “itch,” and that makes sense to me ’cause I would never want to get all itchy durin’ a show! Y’know?
DANCER (LEFT): Oh yeah! That makes sense. Maybe we’re wrong.
DANCER (RIGHT): Yeah, maybe we’re wrong. We’ll Wikipedia it later.
DANCER (RIGHT): Yeeeeeeeeup.
DANCER (LEFT): [cautiously] Girrrl!
BRITNEY: No, like the WHOLE THING.
DANCER (RIGHT): Hunh. I would’ve figured something more along the lines of fifteen minutes.
BRITNEY: Mmm. Well he works REALLY fast.
Filed under: Britney Spears, Britney Spears Comeback, Britney Spears Femme Fatale Tour, Britney Spears Scary, Gwen Stefani, Harajuku Girls, Japan, L.A.M.E., Racial Drag, Racial Drag That's Boring, Tsunami, Unflattering Footwear, World's Ugliest Kimono Minis, Zaldy Goco
Hey, did ya hear the good news? One of the Harajuku Slaves is free. She can be seen Thursday nights on MTV’s America’s Best Dance Crew with her fly b-girl group, Beat Freaks. As Lil’ Mama would say, they dance harrrd. As Shane Sparks would say, they rip it. As vest-wearing blowhard JC Chasez would say…oh, who cares what vest-wearing blowhard JC Chasez would say?!
You may know this Harajuku Slave as “Music.” Or that tall Harajuku Girl. Maybe you, like most people, never bothered to distinguish among the four of them and really look at their individual faces, bodies, dance styles, or personalities, because the Harajuku Slaves have always been dolled up in matching outfits and geisha makeup and forced to trail their blonde big-boned owner in silence and that was the point, really, that they were all supposed to look alike and be stripped of their individual identities and be referred to en masse as “The Harajuku Girls,” riiiiiiight?
Anyhoo, true to freed slave tradition, “Music” now has a real full name: Rino Nakasone-Razalan. And homegirl is hawt, even without geisha makeup, if you can imagine. And she’s got really dope moves. And she’s part of a female hip-hop dance group who’s inspiring girls all over the country that they can do anything boys can do, backwards and in heels.
Never mind that Rino was part of a hideous cultural phenomenon on par with “Love You Long Time” that will have Asian chicks for the next generasian fighting to be seen as real people with real names and real voices and distinct personalities and not just “Harajuku Girls.” Oh well, whatever, nevermind. Why nitpick on such a historic occasion? The point is, she’s free! Free at last, free at last, God Almighty, Rino Nakasone-Razalan is free at last!!!
Our feelings of disgust toward Gwen Stefani and her Harajuku Slaves ebb and flow like the tide at Zuma Beach (Gwen’s second spawn’s namesake). Sometimes–between concert tours when the Harajuku Girls are on furlough–we get snookered into thinking that Gwen’s just a big-boned girl trying to balance fame, motherhood, crap songwriting, and exercise anorexia. Then we see promotional stunts like the one that went down in the windows of Bloomingdale’s on 59th Street this morning…
JIN: I don’t know. It kinda looks like we’re still here.
SUN: Yeah, I know, but I feel like we’re not really here.
JIN: So we ARE in a time warp?
SUN: No, that’s not it. I mean, I’ve just been hearing a lot of things lately, like, “Where did that cute Korean couple go? I haven’t seen them around. They were just starting to make things work. What happened to them?” and I’m afraid that, uh–
SUN: I’m afraid we’ve become invisible.
JIN: Whoa. Like, this island has made us invisible? Just like it made my junk work and got you preggo?
Yesterday, we polled you guys on who the mystery fashismista was that showed up at Chloe “Actor-Fashism Icon-Second Wife-Designer” Sevigny’s launch party for her Opening Ceremony collection.
Most of you thought that the lady in that funkay fedora, batwing bib, skinny jeans, and bondage mules was Risa Ring:
I must now confess that the poll was rigged. The lady in the photo was none of the gals listed. The lady is, in fact, not a lady at all:
Many of us will be watching for DISGRASIAN dabbler Lauren Gottleib–oh, shucks, I mean “Misha Chan”– to stake her claim for the top 4 of So You Think You Can Dance? tonight.
Let’s all pray that she doesn’t make the same fashion faux pas she did last week:
AUGH!… LAUREN/MISHA!!! Consider yourself filed at DISGRASIAN HQ in a folder labeled “Repeat Offenders.” If it’s not dabbling, sweetheart, we’re talking about full-on ADDICTION.
Step it down, Gottlieb/Chan. You’re on thin ice.
TOM: Uh, yeah Gwen. It’s great.
GWEN: Right Tony?
TONY: What? Oh yeah, whatever.
GWEN: Where were you at lunch today? I saw you leaving with those two Harajuku girls.
TONY: Those weren’t harajuku girls. Their names are Diana and Jen. They do this site or whatever called Disgr—-
GWEN: Oh that’s so weird! They reminded me so much of my little slaves.
TONY: [sighs loudly] Anyway, whatever, they said they wanted to take me out. We had a good lunch. We talked a lot about things like people stealing thunder, playing racial drag, and ditching the talented people who took you to the top and exploiting the fetishized ideas of Eastern races in order to capitalize off of the dispensable income of impressionable young g—-
GWEN: Huh? Anyway, I’m so glad we’re still bros. You guys are totally my bros.
TONY: We’re not siblings. I’ve slept with you before. You wore my mom’s bindi for 3 weeks.
TOM: Why didn’t you come to my birthday dinner at Cipriani, Gwen?
ADRIAN: I just pooped my pants!
GWEN: God you guys, it’s been so long. Like Kingston is totally as big as you guys.
ADRIAN: I am a king!
TOM: Where is that little rat?
GWEN: He’s with one of my slaves. Baby, I think. My baby is with BABY! Heee! Isn’t that cute?
TONY: [rolls eyes] Oh yeah, reaalllly fuckin’ cute.
GWEN: So um, did you guys give any more thought to that thing I was talking about inside?
TOM: Uh, NO.
GWEN: It’s FUN, guys. You just have to give it a chance.
TOM: Adrian, no, it’s not fun.
GWEN: Whhhaaa–aaat! Come on!
TONY: I’m not wearing a dhoti and kurta, Gwen.
GWEN: Oh come on! Why not! That’s traditional Indian dress!!! I have all these cool old Bollywood pictures we can send to our stylist.
TONY: No, Gwen.
GWEN: And I will call you “Butterfly…”
ADRIAN: I have a heart!
TOM: Jesus Christo, shut up Gwen.
GWEN: …and Tom can be “Oval…”
ADRIAN: Lollipop! I want a lollipop!
TONY: Goddamn you, witch!
GWEN: …and Adrian can be “Lollipop!” You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
ADRIAN: [purrs and nods yes]
TONY: My lord, Diana and Jen were right about you.
The first ads for Gwen Stefani’s perfume, L, have hit the web. You can pre-order the fragrance now, although I must warn you, it has top notes of poo and a heart of jasmine, peach blossom, and vomit.
The state of New Joisey is all in a tizzy over underage drinking after 13 minors were hospitalized following–surprise!!–a GWEN STEFANI CONCERT. But I gotta ask, was it REALLY the alkeyhol that did those teens in? Or was it…
Oh. God. I don’t feel so good. Overdosing on ricist imagery. Somebody call 911.
Last week, Verizon dropped their sponsorship of Gwen Stefani’s Sweet Escape tour because the communications company does not support yellow slavery.
Okay, that’s a white lie. Maybe it had something to do with Gwen’s opening act Akon allegedly sexually accosting a teenage girl on stage in Trinidad. Verizon has, nevertheless, bailed on these two sorry EXPLOITASIANISTAS.
Corporate America, follow Verizon’s example, and Free the Harajuku Girls!
Sarah Jessica Parker, who will be introducing her own fashion line, Bitten, this summer, takes a bite out of Gwen Stefani in the latest issue of Glamour, calling Stefani’s L.A.M.B. label “avant-garde” and too “high fashion.” SJP even goes as far as to say, “”I don’t want to do that for women, because that’s not their lives.”
I would call L.A.M.E. “avant-tard” and “too high-drag queen,” but you, Sarah Jessica, are a far more generous soul than I.