Today marks a new beginning for America, a chance to reclaim our greatness and humanity. We must open our arms to each other. We must get out of debt and create jobs. We must value the people, not corporate interests. Most importantly, we must follow Nicole’s lead and Twitter the day away. After all, how can we help our neighbor if there isn’t an electronic record of their every trivial move? YES WE CAN!!!
While we Lady Killers may not have any real feelings inside of us, we do have hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Sure some of them involve trying to keep it in our pants long enough to prolong hitting the double-digits mark (killers we may be, but ladies first and foremost!), and yes, others entail being less of a fat-ass, but the rest are almost real important, promise.
I cannot speak for the ladies of 2009 so much as I can speak for myself. Do believe I have tried. What I can do, though, is share my own wishes for the year in hopes of spreading joy and knowledge to others even dumber than I Sharing, I’ve heard, is caring.
…I hope to succeed in my personal crusade to end the Men Referring to Women as “Females” Movement. I think that men think that they are doing us a favor by calling us this and by not calling us “dusty bitches” as they have in the past. However, any man worth his salt would know that by calling a lady a “female” he is pretty much undoing all that he thinks he has done. Female, as a noun, is a term reserved for the fields of science and zoology to refer to an animal of lower sex. A female as in reference to, say, a lady dog. Not a human woman. And a female dog is often referred to as, well, you all know that one. Nice try, boys, but I think the preferred terminology is as it has always been: “triflin’-ass hoodrats.”
…I resolve to reconnect with old friends who I’ve lost to time and space. Mostly just some old Internet boyfriends with whom I’ve shared a digital dalliance or two. Nothing says new beginnings like catching up with the very old flames to whom you’ve showed your pixel tits in a Yahoo! chat room. Here’s hoping that the new Internet age is more conducive to making bust-it babies in real time rather than that of the pre-YouTube era when taggin’ meant laggin’. If you cannot remember the frustrations of a frozen-framed O-face, then you, my friend, better ask somebody. Me. You can ask me.
…I foresee, as I do at the beginning of any year, that this new one will be the one to which all musical debts will be paid, and the one during which everyone in the industry gets their shit right. To me this means more psycho bitches in throwbacks waxing about club drugs and dudes who can’t get it up. Which leads me to…
…I plan to throw caution to the wind and blow some dude for booth time only so I can put on plastic the lyrical prowess with which I have been blessed–Even if this means recording a spoken word Haiku album. Gettin’ live with the 5-7-5, what about it!
…I hope that all dudes will simultaneously, and by way of little explanation, become more handsome and less picky.
…I hope that this dude will simultaneously, and by way of little explanation, become more not-fat and less sexually accommodating. You know, like, sexxxxually. But since the chance is great that you have happened upon this Lady Killer installment in the earliest moments of 2009 (there is a small window of penance with rezzies)…whaddya say?
…I predict that Lil Wayne will have gotten that fucking Winn Dixie grocery bag full of money right now already, Beyonce will remain the voluptuous albeit skull-numbingly boring woman she has always been, and T-Pain will still be ugly as balls—the sort of ugly that no top hat or robo-voice can obscure. We can still see you, Faheem!
To quote Chris Rock, “Take off that stupid ass HAT!”
…I resolve to keep the Internet abreast of all my comings and goings as I have done with the rapacious stick-to-itiveness of years prior. Not only will I be more than accommodating to my legion of fawning MySpace fans, but I will go above and beyond for those bookmarking my bookmarkings over at Good Reads. The letters T, M, and I mean nothing to you? There’s always Twitter where hip hop’s playaz (and I) play all day. Baby, I am always a mouse click away. Except for when I’m not.
…I hope that, high on the promises of Change and “Yes We Cans,” people will stop acting a goddamn fool. And by “people,” I am referring to: the cashier at Rite Aid who didn’t understand the simple retail concept of retail efficiency and, as a result, left my vag supplies splayed all up on the counter while we exchanged monies and idle chit-chat. With a line behind me. A long, impatient one. With eyes. And opinions. “People” also refers to Bret Michaels and all those on his bang bus, the makers of Snuggie, frontin’ ass bitches, dudes who don’t want to go on dates with me, dudes with whom I don’t want to go on dates, dudes in general, anyone who likes to talk more than required, and people who request delivery receipts on emails about other emails.
…I demand a moratorium on the following: The phrase “I try” as spoken by hyper-sarcastic losers who fail to claim responsibility for anything other than being the most annoying person in a room, Davey Crockett fur-lined caps as worn by normally adorable youth and low-level drug pushers, naturally curly girlies straightening their hair within an inch of its life looking like one million other flat ironed slut bunnies in the club, the shiny metallic leggings that were meant for no leg, period, and fraudulating celebrities and fraudulating laymen claiming sex addiction when really they just wanna fuck…a lot…and justify it when it just so happens not to take place on the business-end of wifey.
“New Year’s Resolution” by Zilla Rocca (over Aaliyah’s “We Need a Resolution”
“No Resolution” by 5 O’Clock Shadowboxers (Zilla Rocca x Douglas Martin) from The Slow Twilight LP