2009: The Year in Review

2009 was disappointing at best. Sure, the first black president was inaugurated, but we elected him in 2008, and wasn’t that when we were truly excited? By early 2009, America still had a crush on Obama, but her heart didn’t go pitter pat like it had in Novmber. Now America and Obama are official. They’re going steady. In November 2008, there was still that question of where they stood. It was exciting. America doesn’t even do her hair anymore, and when was the last time Obama whispered to America, “You smell nice?” (I heard America is pregnant, but keep it on the low low).

No, 2009 seemed to be laden with mediocrity, with tinges of disaster. I am here to highlight those disasters and offer a shoulder to those who are still effected by these tragedies.

1. Beyonce’s missing pants: In the 2008 “Single Ladies” video, we all just thought Beyonce was being cool and slutty by dancing around in a leotard and high heels, but by 2009, the American people began to fret. “What happened to her pants?” we all wondered, as “Sasha Fierce” produced upwards of 20 music videos without pants. Jay-Z was questioned, and her mother Tina Knowles was held in custody for a week, but they have both been released. NO ONE knows where Beyonce’s pants are, and with this intense winter, I for one am beginning to worry. Please, if you know anything about the whereabouts of Beyonce’s trousers, contact the authorities.

2. Balloon-gate: First of all, let me state how stupid it is to model every scandal after Watergate. That said, Balloon-gate was the biggest joke since the Black Jack Taco (or Negraco). What better way to prove how idiotic the American people are than to tell a news team that your son is floating through space in a balloon. Raise your hand if you fell for it. That’s what I thought. Did everyone forget about the 2003 film “Danny Deckchair?” Hello! Well, clearly know one saw that movie, but it’s not dissimilar from Balloon-gate, and if you saw that movie and still believed those fools, then you are doubly stupid.

3. Jon minus Kate: Jon Gosselin better be glad TLC paid him well for that ridiculous show about how he and his ex-wife ran a child farm, otherwise no girls would have any interest in him. Let’s face it, if any other heavyset thirty-somthing in an Ed Hardy tee hit on a 22 year old, she would pretend to be hearing impaired and simply walk away. Jon, I hope that 2010 brings you better taste and a clue. Get off of my TV and out of my beloved gossip magazines.

4. Tiger Woods has sex with everybody: Tiger, what were you thinking? Are they not always waiting for us to fail? You were doing so well. And then, you did it with every girl in the northern hemisphere. WTF? Chicks were rising from the dead to announce that they had slept with you. I’m not gonna lie, I had to ask myself if I had. I’m still not sure, although I’m not white, so probably not. Good work Tiger. You really are a jungle cat, aren’t you.

Of course there were many other atrocious things that happened over the year (millions of college students graduated into a world devoid of jobs but chock full of internships and volunteer opportunities…), but who has time to list them all? Not I, so I shan’t. But all I can hope in regards to next year is that someone sews Beyonce a fine pair of slacks, and that she, Jon and Tiger depart upon a mysterious balloon trip that doesn’t return until 2011.

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While I Was Out…

Some of you may have noticed the absence of The Lo Down last week and been extremely, devestatingly upset. Well, there was no post last week for good reason. I’m sure you’ll understand.

I was leaving the orphanage for disabled children (where I devote 50 hours per week, rain or shine), when I was approached by an older man in a business suit.

“Wait, hold it right there,” he said, making a frame around my face from a distance with his hands. “Do you wanna be a star?”

“Obvi,” I replied. He picked up his Blackberry.

“Hello, Jerry. Rihanna hasn’t signed the contract, has she?” Finally, I thought, I’m going on world tour! “No, I found someone new….yeah…and now we don’t have to worry about the accent.” He was still talking when a stretch Mini-Cooper pulled up. It seems like an oxymoron, but trust me, it was really cute. He hung up his phone and pushed me in the car, slammed the door, and away we went. Oh great, I thought now. I’m not going on world tour. I’m going to be murdered. This sucks.  Then I felt something brush my skin. It was rich, smooth chinchila fur. I looked up to see Gayle King, Oprah’s bestie for the restie, staring at me through Chanel sunglasses. Diamonds draped her neck. I nuzzled my head in her fur coat.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Sorry,” I whispered. She removed her sunglasses in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. She then looked directly into my eyes for what I counted to be 23 seconds. “Can…can I go?”

“Universal Pictures is making a film loosely based on my life. I want you to play the role of the young Gayle King.”

“Why, Gayle. I–I don’t know what to say.” She grabbed my hand.

“Say ‘yes.” Then she kissed me on the lips. It made me very uneasy, so I complied.

The Mini-stretch came to a stop, and I stepped out onto an enormous plantation. Like, an actual plantation somewhere on Long Island. Oddly, the fields were being tilled by white people. It was pretty offensive.

“Um, Gayle,” I said.

“Silence!” she shouted, burning my arm with the tip of her long cigarette. So, I silenced myself.

We walked inside and sat in her room made entirely of dark chocolate. When she wasn’t looking, I tried to eat the fringe on the pillow.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are perfect for this role,” she said, “although I’ve only heard you speak about 10 words, and I have no knowledge of your acting background or lack there-of. You also don’t really look like me.”

“Thank you?”

“There’s just one thing. You’ll have to lose about 20 pounds.” I had been afraid of this. “Not that you don’t look like a Nubian goddess now. Let’s be real, your body looks as though it was sculpted by Michaelangelo.” I think she was calling me butch. “But you’ll need to lose weight for the “heroin addiction” phase of my life.”

“I didn’t know you were addicted to heroin,” I replied, stunned, and confused for numerous reasons.

“I wasn’t,” said Gayle. “Almost nothing in the film is true. I hope that’s not a problem…” I didn’t want to get burned again, so I shook my head.

“No ma’am. Not a problem.”

That is how it all began. I am currently locked in Gayle King’s basement, drilling my lines and sticking to a strict diet of  baby carrots and champagne. Look out for Long Live the King: The Gayle King Story, starring Angela Bassett (Gayle King), Della Reese (Oprah) and moi. Bob Saget, Jackie Chan, Raven Symone and Dame Judy Dench are also in the film, which opens next September.

Also, if you don’t hear from me within the next three weeks, please call the police. Please.

Wigs & Plus

There is a quaint little shop in a dusty, rat-infested alley near Herald Square called “Wigs & Plus. “No, not “Wigs Plus,” which would suggest that the shop sells wigs in addition to a wide variety of other like items. “Wigs & Plus” is the name of this gem, which suggests almost the same thing as the former, while also clueing the consumer into the fact that the owners neither have a complete grasp of the english language, nor are they sensible enough to consult a native speaker to find that this name makes no sense.

At Wigs & Plus the main selling point is, well, wigs. Wigs of all shapes and sizes. The wig that caught my eye through the display window (I sadly did not have time to go in and browse around…) was the beard wig. It is just as it sounds: a brunette wig that stops at the nape of the neck, with a handsome frontal beard and mustache attached. GENIUS!

I know many of you have yet to do your holiday shopping, and let’s face it, Kwanzaa is right around the corner. Think about it. How many times have you heard your sister, or best friend, or mailman say, “I really want to try something new with my hair,” only to be followed by, “and my face is always so cold, particularly the lower region”? Many, many times you have heard this.

Well, here is your chance to make some lucky so-and-so’s dreams come true. Now, I’m not going to lie to you. I didn’t get a chance to check the pricetag on the beard wig, but I would imagine that such an innovative commodity will cost you a pretty penny. But think about it. The beard wig is not simply a vanity purchase, it is an investment in facial warmth and protection. Did you know that unsatisfactory facial temperature is the fifth leading cause of depression in people between the ages of 21 and 23.6 years? Well, it is. If you’re not a part of the solution, you’re a part of the problem.

So, if you are looking for the perfect gift for the person who has everything, look no further than the beard wig. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

Please note: The picture shown is not an accurate depiction of the Wigs & Plus beard wig.