The 2019 Bored Ambition Master Plan

It’s finally the end of 2018 and a few days before my 30th birthday, and as many of my ilk – the goal oriented yet jaded, underemployed super millenials- have done or are in the process of doing, I have devised my master plan for 2019, the list of hopefully attainable goals that I will achieve within the upcoming 365 days. Because I am such believer in sharing is caring, I am going to outline to you all what exactly those goals all, so that maybe you, my audience, can keep me accountable, because remember, these goals affect the trajectory that this site will go in.

Without further ado:

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I Don’t Know What I Want to Do

Picture perfect, I paint a perfect picture*…

I live in the South now. Louisiana to be precise. It’s a long way away from the creative bubble that Los Angeles, my hometown, is. I thought I wanted to be part of that bubble and for some time, I worked to gain access to that bubble – I minored in film and television at UCLA, attended a trade program in new media production after college, spent countless hours, sacrificed numerous trees in writing down my ideas, moved around on the outskirts of Hollywood. Now those pages sit colleting dust, my Canon T4i that I received as part of my tuition package sits on a shelf, this blog even sits unattended to for nearly a year….


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#InternetKilledtheVideoStar Vol. 6: Bitch Please

Let me preface this for a certain segment of the population: I got a lot of internalized misogyny to work on.

You do too, even if you don’t admit it, so don’t try to be high and mighty above me.

With that being said, let’s get into some straight up West Coast gangta shit.

All I wanna be was a G, ha!
My whole life, nigga please, ha!

Breaking off these motherfuckin keys, ha!
Let’s get these motherfuckin G’s, ha!
Nigga you don’t wanna fuck with this

I don’t care to explain why this song makes me do like Pam did in that episode of Martin when Biggie Smalls appeared on there, which by the way, is a Top 3 episode of Martin to me, fight me later.


But it does, and I was reminded the other day on the way home from my place of employment.

You have West Coasts legends being straight up Gs. Xzhibit was still rocking the cornrolls (I saw him on Bong Apetit and he was bald. Bald. My youth y’all).  Snoop was still trying to be a pimp. Nate Dogg was being one of the best vocal talents to be put on wax (fight me). This song and the corresponding video makes me want to put on a fresh pair of Chucks (canvas, none of that leather shit), iron my khakis until they’re stiff as a jizz filled sock and wear my oversized white-T and button up shirt combo with pride. The ’64 Impala in my head sits on the shiniest of chrome with the most advance hydraulics system ever so I can ride three wheels up and down Crenshaw in style.

Man, white folks is moving in, ain’t nobody riding in low riders up and down Crenshaw anymore.

This was No Limit era Snoop too. WATTBA.

Bask in the opulence, decadence, Black excellence* of “Bitch Please.”

*This really depends on who you ask. 

#InternetKilledtheVideoStar Vol. 3: Human Nature

Sorry, this ain’t about the song written by the Honorable St. Michael Joseph, of the Gary, Indiana Jacksons, First of His Name, Last of His Kind, Walker of the Moon, Ruler of the Neverland Realm.

Instead, we are visiting another song with the same name by the Honorable Madonna of House Mononym, Appropriatress of Vogue, Master of Disguise, Queen of Titillation, Mother of Gaga. Let’s look at “Human Nature.”

This video stuck with me as a child. You got pale ass Madonna rocking black cornrows akin to an extra in Hellraiser, wearing black leather getting groped and felt on and giving us soft BDSM vibes. As a child too ahead of the curve, I liked it.

Then I got older and listened to the lyrics and they were Madonna’s “Fuck you!” to everyone who criticized her brand of sexual display from the SEX book and her previous album Erotica. I felt those lyrics because I understood where she was coming from, and I still do. As a society, we are too hung up on a biological urge and how it’s done and who it’s done with.

And then I got even older and realized that Madonna was given a lot of leeway in the early 1990s, while Janet couldn’t even show her face in public for a while after her titty came out at the Super Bowl in 2004 and I got a bit angry.

But I think that justice usually comes slow, because Janet is out here having babies at 50 and still looking like she’s 35, and Madonna is angular.

I know, misogyny and ageism isn’t cute.

Point is, this video was dope for it’s time. It’s showing it’s age now, or maybe I just know more. The Bedtime Stories album did produce two of my lower end of the spectrum favorite songs in “Take a Bow” and “Secret.” While the song itself is nothing too remarkable, this video, again, struck a cord with my pre-perverted mind and it has a place in my mental Rolodex of why I got into the arts.