Lil’ Wayne and his seamlessly blended hood rich family congregated at posh Atlanta restaurant Straits over the weekend to celebrate daughter Reginae’s 12th birthday. Toya’s current beau producer / personality Memphitz, Tiny, Birdman, Nivea, Young Money diaper genie Lil’ Chuckee and Diggy Simmons rounded out the list of well wishing guests. There were no signs of Grandma Crazy Nita, though.
It would break my heart if this child goes down the Bobbi “Nympho Babii” Kristina route. Just say no to Four Loko’s and McRibs, Reginae!
Since settling into the new mommy gig Keyshia Cole has understandably cut back on red carpet appearances at low country crab boils and other prestigious events but is still on call to share her “talents” with her gracious public! On Saturday night she popped a handful of Ricola’s into her mouth and gots-tah yodeling for The 5th Annual Black Girls Rock! Awards in New York City.
If you want to watch Onika journey into an undiscovered part of the wig crypt you’re going to have to visit another site but if Haitian Barbies with flea market curb appeal makes your butt cheeks clap together for joy you’re right at home! Thanks Josephine.
I’m not entirely quite sure what Norwood Young does. I first learned of his existence from Fresh and then after I moved to LA I spotted him at events every so often. Or even around Larchmont playing spades at the sushi place. True story.
More recently, I moved to a neighborhood where he has a home a few minutes away.
Based on my short time in Los Angeles, I’ve learned not to ask those sort of questions. You’ll never get a straight answer anyway. But, I will say I’ve heard mumblings that he used to sing for a group my mama can’t remember (which explains the T-Lame inspired tune) and that he wants a reality show (naturally).
And that despite his tragic plastic surgery, he’s trying to correct it. Apparently, he was the subject of molestation and other forms of abuse. That means, I’m trying to tip on the tightrope and not insult him or his music video too harshly. You know, because I’d rather not bunk with Chris Stokes in hell.
But, c’mon nah, look at this video. I have to say something.
Such as, where did the man buy that disco dashiki? Was it custom made or did he find that in a thrift shop three days after Studio 54 closed?
Big Boi’s Uncle Darnell is a coooooold piece of work.
Both his height and disposition were a little intimidating when I was first introduced to him a couple weeks back, but after he along with other family members shared the rare type of warm southern hospitality that can only be traced back to our part of the map I felt as if I had been apart of the family for years. Shout out to Uncle Trick!
Remember going to cookouts when you were younger and having that one uncle who would always have a drink in his hand and a cigarette somehow barely hanging on the tip of his lip? Yep, that Uncle D. Minus the cig. A charming, intriguing fellow, indeed. He’s got stories for days and hell of a way to offer a play-by-play. He lives in the community, so he understands its pulse and can relate to damn near everyone who calls the place home — young and old. Pretty much, Darnell is Savannah, Georgia.
Forget four quarters of a nail biting game, Ron Artest’s heartfelt speech last night made Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals an instant classic for fuckery enthusiasts such as myself. And there’s nothing left to say, Total. #DrakeTweet
So I’m in the parking lot at Fridays prior to watching the Lakers-Suns game yesterday. My girl & I see a car of women drive by and we laugh cus the driver of the car has a purple weave and lashes so long & fake that she looked like Snuffalupagus from Seasame Street ’bout the eyes.
Anyhoo, she gets out of the car dressed as if she was going to the club – patent leather red pumps and a short freak ‘em dress – and hands me her CD. I gave my abs a workout from holding in my laughter so hard while she walked away. The black cherry lip gloss, the 14 bedazzled bangles per wrist, the pink money, the slight “ain’t I ca-yute” side-eye she’s giving and the Compton street signs have all prepared me for the stairway to heaven. And that’s not even including the track listing on the back. Trina betta watch her back . . .
