I don't know how in the devil it happened, but after about 7 years with a clean record, I managed to come down with a cold. Like, can you beleive it. I haven't had one in so long and then this thing comes along and hits me like a speeding freight train.
The germ must look like that!
It really and completely distresses me because instead of catching up on my writing projects--my novel, my Strawberries fanfic, and my multi-part erotica The Lockdown--I am confined to bed. I am so hoarse I sound like Weezy Jefferson and one day, I was so sick, even Michael Jackson couldn't make me feel better! (Perish the thought!) I really hate it because it keeps me from writing and that's the most important thing to me is my writing. But I'm about 75% better now and don't quite bark like a dog when I cough.
So I hope to be over this by the weekend so I canj get back to the important things. Especially my book! Finally get over the "Thriller Hump" and now this!
Today was one of those days I just can't explain. I mean I don't know what happened. I was just sitting and working on my novel and got to thinking about one of my characters owning a Jermaine Jackson single--for a battle later in the story, it's a long story. Anyway, I just knew I didn't want the single to be Let's Get Serious because I was fairly sick of hearing that song. It's like Jermaine's Billie Jean with none of the fancy footwork. So I pulled up his discography on wikipedia. And first of all I was stunned that he had released 13 studio albums because I thought he hadn't recorded anything since LGS--seriously. He's definitely flown under my radar. Crazy thing is, I'm in a couple of Jermaine fanclubs. Did anyone say shit? Nope. So I started sifted through the singles and I noticed a song I had heard, live, before: Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming.
I heard Jermaine sing it on the bootleg Victory concert from Dallas DVD I own.
I hunted down the album track on Youtube and it kind of mushroomed from there. I listened to about five or six of his songs--including Do What You Do, that I had heard and liked, but never realized was sung by him! And now, I'm a wee bit conflicted, because I've spent the greater part of my fandom of Michael making fun of Jermaine at will. I mean it comes as naturally as breathing to me and most of the fanbase. It's just kind of funny to me, because Jermaine can sing, rather well, and I never noticed it. Especially in the Dallas concert because I was like filing my nails and and whining for Michael to come back onscreen during his medley. It's a shock that's all. But yeah, I like the man's voice. I still DO think he's a bit arrogant and narcissistic, but his music is good. Although, I am still questioning Dynamite. The man is staging a jailbreak in this get up. They had no choice but to catch his greasy, sweaty ass wearing highlighter orange!Good song though.
(Listening To I Can’t Help It by Michael Jackson) Hey Y’all! I can’t believe it. I’ve finally done it. Gotten my ass to the mall and gotten all of my Christmas shopping done. And can you believe I got it done in an hour and half? Astonishing, right? I would have gotten to the mall, but I had all kinds of car troubles. That’s behind me now. I was like one of those chicks you see on those coupon-clipping shows. Just rushing in and tearing a store down to its foundation. Which is exactly what I did. I had the whole mall mapped out for myself, and knew exactly where I had to go to get stuff and for whom. I liked it--and I even got a few items for myself. Ulta is my favorite store because it’s all cosmetics and you know I love my cosmetics. All month, I had been salivating over this lip gloss set like it was Marlon Jackson in a Speedo! (Don’t laugh, he’s slimmed down a lot since being on tour. And looks mad sexy!) Anyway, it’s called a lip “glossary” and has thirty great mini-glosses in it and believe me, I will be wearing nearly all of them at some point. I’ve noticed lately I need a lip color to fill out the rest of my face when I do my make up. Perfect compliment! I’m just glad I got all the work complete and now I can focus my full attention back on writing my novel. I was so confounded with the shopping and worrying about it, it was effecting my novel. Now all I have to do is wait for the big day to roll around so I can see the looks of glee on my friend’s faces. I know they’ll love my gifts. I want to show them I love them and appreciate them, and I think I accomplished that. (Remarkably, I didn’t buy anything MJ. Oh, I saw him, but I resisted temptation!)
I am really just shocked and stunned. That’s the best, absolute way to describe how I am feeling at this exact moment. It’s 12:02 a.m. on Saturday, December 8. And I am in love again. (Now before you go to flipping and shouting with glee that I have a boyfriend, don’t start throwing confetti as of yet. I haven’t found Mr. Right--or Right Now--but I’ll drop you a line when I do locate him. And if he can‘t stand my inflicting myself upon him. ) I’m talking about Michael. Michael Jackson.
I really honestly don’t know what the hell happened. Its like a freaking glitter doused freight train hit me. Let me explain. For the last two months, I had been trying to find an MJ concert DVD I had misplace--Michael live in Brunei, 1996. I mean I hunted all over here and yonder for it, before I found that it had been right under my nose the entire time. I was excited and popped it into my desktop, which has the largest screen of anything in the house. And I’ve watched Michael Jackson before. Generally a day doesn’t pass without his little booty shaking on my TV in some show. But this was different. The Brunei concert evoked a response from me, that I don’t think I’ve had since…since I saw the MSG concert way back in 2001. It’s so difficult to explain. Like I know I love Michael Jackson. I wake up and go to bed saying that. I still pray for Michael’s soul and his family and everything, like I have since I was a little girl. That hasn’t changed a particle. But watching that show. It was like time stopped for me. I literally forgot my surroundings and it was just me and Michael Jackson. I wasn’t at home in my jammies and sucking on a Vitamin Water. To me, I was AT that show and I was just flooded with endorphins and dare I say it? I was happy. Yeah I was happy. I am so seldom happy, to actually feel it was kind of a foreign feeling to me. Some people can’t understand that Michael truly is the only one that makes me feel like that--happy. So painfully, brilliantly, wonderfully happy. Over the course of my fandom of Michael, sure there have been times I’ve waned and gotten smacked in the head by Michael to kind of say “Come on back Tiffeny…” Just a moment where I am reminded WHY I’m a Michael Jackson fanatic in the first place. Tonight was one of those nights. By the time Michael started tearing into Human Nature, on an over-lit stage, I was done. Hands balled up, saucer-eyed, singing along. I think a tear or two tried to run. I just saw the genius at work. The man I loved and adored and who meant so much to me. Whose legacy I work tirelessly--and with no pay--to uphold. A warmness of love and affection that I have never felt for any other celebrity, and let’s be honest, most people in general just overtook me and flooded me. It was so wonderful. It’s a feeling I wish I could have all day, every single day of my life. It was that good. It’s that feeling that’s driven me since 1995 to flock after Michael. Buy his albums and posters and DVDs. Wear his shirts and glove and penny loafers. Try to convert people into fans. Curse out and punch a naysayer. It’s funny as a writer, but words seems to fail me. Hard as I may try, I don’t quite think I’ll every be able to articulate just how I feel about Michael Jackson. It’s like Scarlett and Ashley. Just that kind of thing that burns through pages of romance novels. But its more than that. I respect Michael. There’s so few people I genuinely respect and Michael is one of them. I just don’t know how to say it. I love the man. When I think back to that day in 2008 when I saw him and touched his arm…God. Looked him in his face and watched him wave and smile in my general direction… Powerful. I don’t know if I’m making any sense at all or rambling or what. But I’m just saying what I feel I have to say about Michael Jackson. I love him. It’s such a small statement, but carries with it a message that means so much more than that. I love Michael Jackson. And I always, always will. I think the day I’ll stop, is when they lower me in that six-foot hole. Even them I might not quit.
I watched one of my favorite movies this morning and I just had to tell all of you my readers about it.
It's a drama from 1933, and stars one of my favorite actresses, Babara Stanwyck: Baby Face.
In a nutshell, the film is about a woman named Lily, who starts out in the film working as something of a hooker in her father's barroom. Yes, her father was hooking her out. After an accident kills him, Lily with her Black friend/helper, Chico take off for New York to find bigger and better things. On the advice of a friend, Lily literally sleeps her way to the top of the office building she's working in. Lily stomps on hearts, busts up an engaged couple and causes said man and the actual father of the bride to be killed over her. In the mess that ensues Lily is sent to Paris. That's where Courtland (George Brent, who is GORGEOUS!!!) comes in having followed her halfway across the globe to persue her.
Towards the end of the picture, Courtland goes bankrupt and distraught that Lily may leave him, asks for jewels and things to help pay his debts. When she stingily refuses and Courtland attempts suicide. In the end, you know they end up together.
I adore this film because I have a particular penchant for "Pre-Code" films, movies made and released prior to July 1934, before the Hays Code of Ethics and Censory went into effect. If this film had been let out any sooner, it may not have made it theatres as Barbara was clearly a souless gold digger. (Just for the record, in the early years of the Depression, the depiction of gold digging women in glamorous gowns were common.)
But the message to the film is clear: Love is more important than noney and I like that message.
Even if you aren't an old film person like I am, I say give this one a try. I enjoyed it and the clothing was amazing! (That has an open back) She was exactly my age in this film--twenty-six. If only you knew how I wished I could wear clothes like that: Especially that fur coat!!!!
Generally when I am penning my blogs, I don’t really go to the trouble of mentioning celebrities who aren’t members of the Jackson family. (Or in someway associated with them.) I don’t generally mention them because I don’t really pay them any mind.
I glance up when they hit the skids, have a good laugh and call it a day. And go back to my glitter.
But one celebrity I see kind of spiraling down and bottoming out and that’s actually, really and truly bothering me, is Lindsay Lohan.
I think part of the reason I guess I feel so much for the girl is that we’re the same age. We’re both 26 years old.
It’s just I was there when Lindsay’s career in film started. I mean I was eleven years old, just like her when she starred in the ‘98 remake of “The Parent Trap” and played a set of long lost twins who attempt to rekindle the romance between their divorced parents. I saw all the hubbub and hoopla and everything that went behind the movie. And it remains one of my favorite movies to this day.
I just really liked Lindsay and thought she was pretty and made good films. She was one of the first living actresses that every time a new film of hers came out, I actually went to see it. I had to see it.
I saw ALL her films. Even Get A Clue and it was a TV-movie!
Freaky Friday, Georgia Rule, I Know Who Killed Me, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, Mean Girls…I saw them all. And it was almost like how I was with Michael Jackson. If Lindsay was on, shut up or go away.
And it really has been awful watching Lindsay go down, the substance abuse, scrapes with the law. That odd relationship with that Ronson chick. The whole while, I kept kind of wishing she’d get her shit together, straighten up and go back to films. I mean, she was my favorite actress. Favorite living one anyway.
It was just so much stuff going on. With MJ I kind of got used to seeing him dragged into court, but not over little bullshit like Lindsay was being pulled for. Drunk driving, drug abuse….
Being publicly shamed and put on blast by her film studio and called a liability to a production because she became notorious for not showing or appearing late or out of it or something.
Sickening is what it really is. Just to see someone that out of control. And I noticed as we both aged, Lindsay was just miles from where she started.
I had always wanted to look like her, if I was a White woman anyway. That’s a want far gone.
Lindsay is 26 and really, looked OLDER than her own mother, Dina, who is 50 years old! That’s just tragic.
For a glimmer of a moment, I thought Lindsay was back on track, performing as the late Dame Elizabeth Taylor, as in a much-touted film called “Liz and Dick”. I waited for weeks to see this movie.
In my mind, Lindsay was making a comeback.
The film left much to be desired. Aside from being dressed impeccably, I didn’t see anything Liz Taylor on that screen.
I saw Lindsay, pretending to be Liz.
I didn’t get lost. I was aware the entire time I was watching Lindsay. She didn’t sound like Liz at all, as both have very different and very distinctive voices. Liz’s was light with a touch of a British accent. Lindsay’s is heavy like she’s been a chain smoker since birth.
It was just a rip-roaring disaster, start to finish and where ever Liz Taylor is, she IS hitting the bourbon bottle again!
I could have portrayed Elizabeth Taylor better than Lindsay! And aside from beauty pageants and a few church passion plays, I have no acting experience. That says a lot.
And it lowered the boom, because everywhere I turned, critics were panning the film, and Twitter was ablaze with backlash.
I reckon I’m one of the few peopled that tweeted Lindsay with a KIND word.
Four days after the fact, I see on the news, big surprise, Lindsay has been hauled into jail on charges of fighting and now something else, but 2 charges in 2 different cities.
I am kind of frightened for her, and wonder, you know just how and where this will end. I know her father has publicly been in rehab, so perhaps that’s a factor in what’s happening to her is genetic and hereditary. I don’t know.
I just wonder how some people can be given so much and seem to just throw it away and fritter it away. I guess, because I don’t have things like that--I’m not rich, I’m not famous, and I’m just trying to publish a novel--I would be more appreciative of things like that.
I wish Lindsay was more like me…just more appreciative and get the wake up call. I want to see her do well. I’m tired of carelessness wrecking some of my favorite celebrities.
It's that time again! Time for me to reach into my mind and bring forth an MJ memory from way back when. Today, I wanted to talk about Michael Jackson at the World Music Awards in 2000. The show aired in May and I had just turned 14 years old at the time, and had been in love with Michael for just about 5 years. It was just sheer luck, as it always was before I got a computer and could ride around on Michael's back at all times. I had seen the advertisement for it on ABC family channel for the world music award and when I heard that Michael Jackson was going to be there, wild horses couldn't have torn me from the room.
I'll be honest. I was kind of ignorant about music shows and stuff. I literally thought the only award handed out in the world was the Grammy. I didn;t know there were other awards in other countries. Or that Michael Jackson could win them. And at the time, I didn't know what Michael was up for or anything. I just had my snob hat on and said he would get whatever any way because he WAS Michael Jackson. ( I am a snob about Michael. It's just natural to me) Anyway, I heard they were handing out "Artist of the Milleneum" for Male and Female. and if I'm right, Mariah Carey--pre-TRL breakdown--recieved hers before Michael. But when Prince Albert of monaco jumped up and started talking about Michael and showing clips of him, I was rooted to the spot, holding my MJ doll and looking on as if I was in the room with the fans. I was just so excited, I probably would have gone up in confetti. And then there he was. Michael Jackson. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was just frozen. DID I MENTION THE SO-AND-SO WAS ON TELEVISON? I was just like in a state of shock and often now I wonder how I would have reacted at that age seeing him in person. I saw him in person ONCE, but I was older and kept my shit together. It was liek a concert. Time suspended and Michael was there, being still, looking and the crowd was losing its mind...it was just one of my favorite looks and appearances I've ever seen on Michael. so clean, and simple and precise. The sleek black outfit. His pale, milky, bioluminscent skin...the hair, the eyes...it was all a work of art to me. He hadn't evne spoke yet for crying out loud. The prince handed him a little award, and Michael rattled off a good and shy speech, then at the end he did a little move and I almsot lost it. I thought he was gonna perform and I was mildly burned that he didn't. But he looked so good, all was forgiven anyway. It just made me proud, so proud that someone I looked up to and maybe idolized to an extent was named Artist of the Millenium--an award he got at several more shows too in the following 2 years. Just that he was so talented and blessed and brilliant and that I was around to see it and talk about it and even if people bothered me about it, I could literally be like "Fuck you, Michael's the man of the millenium" and they shot up and let me be. (And I have said that, trust me. Trust me.) It was just another little notch on my MJ fan belt. And I'll remember it!
The germ must look like that! 
