See, Craig’s Mama play too much. Anne Maria Horsford was casket ready at the NBAF Midsummer Gala in Atlanta over the weekend. Here’s a snippet of the instant messenger conversation J. Coop and I had about Thelma Frye.
J. Coop: Her eyes, they seem to be empty
Fresh: She looks like that one auntie who had a mental break down in the 90s but nobody in the family ever brings it up
J. Coop: Did she call Samuel J. before leaving the house and say “Let’s coordinate”? Looking like she’s going to the Spring Prom, Year 1989
Fresh: LaTanya needs to put a stop to that shit
J. Coop: Anne Maria looks like one of the people that haven’t been invited to anything in years and when she finally gets the chance, she over-compensates in party attire
Fresh: And gets drunk halfway through the evening and starts singing the intro song to In The Heat of the Night
J. Coop: I wonder, though, did Dorian’s dick helped her get dressed?
Fresh: Her skirt looks like the little white shoes we put on the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner
J. Coop: Her shoes looks like hoofs, true talk . . . she looks like she said to herself “I’m going to out do everyone there so I’m going to make my own shit” and she did. Singer Sewing Machine-game proper. Why everybody trying to be so different these days? What’s so wrong with a simple shirt and skirt?
