12 January 2004

Something I Forgot to Mention and is Gnawing at Me Harshly


Does anyone else watch MTV's Cribs? I am fascinated with it. I begrudge no one the right to do whatever the hell they want to do with their money. If you want to have a 40-Room Mansion with Solariums and Maid Quarters and all manner of useless amenities, please, be my guest. I'm just baffled because you have all these people with all this money, and they have NO idea what to do with it, so they buy these huge houses and clutter them with all this expensive sh*t that they probably never utilize. I cannot fathom that I'll ever want a huge house. Sure I'd like something decent sized with a nice pool and a movie theater. That would be great. But what the hell would I need all that space for? Besides (and this is a topic for a later post), I plan to be so filthy rich that I can be philanthropic out the whazoo.

There have been a lot of Cribs showcases featuring a lot of materialistic, name-obsessed d*chebags (Mariah Carey jumps to mind immediately), but the wife of Hip-Hop mogul Russell Simmons takes the cake.

Russell seems like a good guy. Not only is he laid back and cool, but his tireless self-promotion doesn't come off and conceited and showy or as pushing for more bucks--it just comes off as hard work. The guy's got Def Jam, Phat Pharm, and all kinds of other irons in the fire. He's a business whiz. Good for him.

His wife blows a f*cking donkey. First of all, I'm back to the Asian thing, and she's an attractive Asian, but she's certainly not the hottest, not even close, and Russell, with all his money, could have done better. Second, the first thing she says as the cameras approach the door, in an I'm-better-than-you-because-I-have-money tone is, "Hello, I invite you into our home with love, and for those of you whose job it is it to hate, you better turn the channel." Really? F*ck you, you dumb b*tch, because here I is. Hatorade be splish-splashin' this day.

The entire segment is Russell being low key and Kimora pointing out all of her wonderfully unspectacular material possessions. Oh, this is my six-foot high such-and-such chandelier. Oh, this is my collection of Versace furniture that I got from an auction. Oh, these are my custom pillows. Oh, these are my jeweled animals that remind me of people who used to pick on me in school, well I'm rich now, so there. Oh, my dining room walls are made of silk. Oh, Versace's bed. And blah blah blah blah blah into abf*ckingsurdium. Then, the most irritating part, on to her "Office", of which she says, "This is my office. It's on the ground floor because I run this house."

F*ck you, you blatant waste of human breath. May I point out that you are a "model" (and I use that word lightly) who has done NOTHING but mooch off your husband for the past seven or eight years? May I point out that your efforts probably paid for little or nothing in that house? May I point out that only useless beings such as yourself would possibly care about your China, or your silk walls, or whatever else you wasted your husband's money on? And then you dare to pretend to be urban and tell people not to "hate"?

People like this annoy and aggravate me to no end. These are the people that deserve the "hate". She is exactly what "hate" was designed for. I hope Kimora Simmons gets on the same plane as J-Lo and Mariah and it crashes wildly into the side of a mountain, burning them alive in agony for at least 15 excrutiating minutes until they finally expire. Dense f*cks. Again, your money is your money and spend it as you like, but don't brag about sh*t that A) Four people in the world care about and B) you had nothing to do with paying for. I feel bad for Russell. You can tell he is suffering form the Normal Guy Who Married the First Hot Chick That Banged Him for His Money Because He Didn't Realize How Powerful His Money Was Syndrome.

I fell better now.

--Also forgot to mention this bit of coincidence...

As per the aforementioned laughing at the buffoon attempting an ill-fated Waistband Tuck (TM) at a party, as I was partaking in my joy, who should call but one Mr. Chris Loftus, drunk out of his mind, with our good friend Melissa Taormina at a party. It was loud there, and I could make out little that he said, but I was able to get out the following:


That call placed at that moment by my Associate...well, needless to say, it made my weekend. Incidentally, if you see an awful Waistband Tuck (TM) being attempted in your town, please let me know about it.