Lemonade: The ‘You Oughta Know’ Of Our Generation

2016-04-21-beyonce-lemonade-hbo-638x425Again, feel free to throw shit at your screen after you read the next statement I’m about to write, but I’m not the biggest Beyonce fan. Do I like her music? Do I whip my hand back and forth drunkenly? Umm I have a vagina … duh.

So when I heard about this “Lemonade” nonsense, I was kind of like, “meh, I’ll watch it when I can watch it.” But luckily I stayed with a friend this weekend who would skin and wear Beyonce if she could, so we ended up watching it together. 

It went a little something like this:

Hmm this is a creepy … I’m into it. 

What is going on?

Wait …

Did Jay Z cheat on Beyonce?! 

Is that Solange?! 







And so on and so forth. 

But guys … this is the “You Oughta Know” of our generation. Except it isn’t about weird Joey from Full House (still grosses me out), it’s about JAY mother fucking Z. 


We’ve all had our hearts broken. And if you haven’t well, goody gum drops from you, “Miss Perfection.” But normal human women have gotten burned once or twice. Hey … it has happened to me … recently

And you know what I wanted to do? The jilted bitch I only let live in the corner of my brain wanted to buy cans of spray paint and stain the city with “[name of idiot] is a heartless douche.” But I don’t act on these things. Because I like to consider myself a sane individual. 

But Beyonce took all of those satisfying fantasies we’ve all had about getting revenge on our ex’s and turned them into a beautiful piece of musical art. The jilted bitch that lives in the corner of my brain was finally satisfied. She did it all for us. All of the awful things we’ve wanted to do to our version of “Becky with the good hair.”

So next time when an idiot burns you and breaks your heart, just turn on Lemonade and be like “THIS, jackass, THIS IS FOR YOU. THIS IS WHY YOU ARE AN AWFUL INDIVIDUAL. Boom.” 

Thank you, Beyonce, thank you for saying all of the things a lot of us didn’t have the balls to say when our hearts have been torn to shreds. Because even though it would be the most satisfying act in the world to strut down the street smashing his shit to pieces… our society really doesn’t make it easy to be a woman who is jealous OR crazy.

Instead … we gotta rise up. It just makes it a lot easier to do so when Lemonade is in the world.


How To Master #IWokeUpLikeThis

.i.10.58 FLAWLESSI’ve been thinking a lot about the post I wrote earlier this month about how I look like a gargoyle when I wake up, and how there is really no way you can pop open your eyes in the morning looking like a fresh and sparkly super model.

Since writing that post, I’ve become violently obsessed with mastering this look. Because dammit I want to roll over in the morning, turn off my alarm, snap a selfie, open Instagram and use the #IWokeUpLikeThis. It’s happening. Anger and frustration can make a woman conquer the world, am I right?

So after a lot of trial and error … A LOT. Like days and days of torturous trials … and then crying myself into a frenzy … then starting back up again … I’ve figured it out, ladies. YES! I’ve. Figured. It. OUT. No longer do you have to sleep over your boyfriends house, set your alarm for 6 a.m. so you can tip-toe to the bathroom and remove the crusty line of drool from your face, sleep in your eyes, and apply a fresh, but not noticeable, layer of makeup … so when your man rolls over, he thinks you’re freaking Heidi Klum.

So here it is! Are you ready?! Follow these simple and flawless steps so you too can use the rare and ellusive hashtag, #IWokeUpLikeThis:

Step 1, 11 p.m.: Before bed, wash makeup off your face and moisturize thoroughly. Place hair in loose bun. Set alarm for midnight. Turn on Netflix and fall peacefully into dreamland.

Step 2, Midnight.: Get out of bed, turn on light and head to where you do your makeup. Apply more moisturizer, and add on toner and under eye cream. Then coat your face with a light foundation. Set alarm for 1 a.m., and let your head hit the pillow … but definitely watch another episode of House of Cards.

Step 3, 1 a.m.: Get out of bed and head back to where you do your makeup. Make sure foundation is in tack, and with a damp washcloth, remove any dried … or fresh … drool from your face, and if necessary apply more foundation. Then lightly dust your face with your bronzer, set your alarm for 2 a.m. and head back to that awesome dream you won’t remember in the morning.

Step 4, 2 a.m-5 a.m.: Repeat step 3 every hour on the hour.

Step 5, 6 a.m.: Get out of bed and head back to where you do your makeup … again. This time, whip out your hair straightener (or whatever tool you use) and start taming the beast. Once that is complete, add some rosy blush to your cheekbones and a touch of mascara … maybe a little eye shadow if you’re feelin’ glamalicious, set your alarm for 7 a.m. and head back to your peaceful night of sleep.

Step 6, 7 a.m.: Roll over. Turn alarm off. Hit camera app. Snap selfie. Open photo in Instagram. Pick filter. Caption photo “#IWokeUpLikeThis”. And go the fuck back to sleep. Drool all over your damn face, smear your mascara. Nothing matters at this point.

And there you have it. See! And I never thought I would EVER wake up not looking like a scary beast. Suck on that, “Yonce.”




Oh and … yeah … APRIL FOOLS! Because we all know I don’t give a shit if I wake up like this:


Beyonce Is Brainwashing Us

1375967866000-beyonce-pixiePhase 1:
Queen Bey chops off her “hair” into a pixie cut which causes hysteria amongst the masses. Breaking News headlines erupted, bloggers went absolutely insane, and even CNN covered the story … must have been a slow news day, huh, kids? No wars … poverty … destruction to cover? No? Alright, Beyoncé’s new do it is.

Me? Well, I wasn’t that shocked. I just assume all celebrities wear weaves, extensions, and/or wigs … because I would if I was famous. And honestly, who the hell can have long, luscious, chemically treated locks that look THAT good ALL the time … am I right? So, again, I just assumed that she took the extensions out and chopped off what was left into a fierce pixie. Not that big of a deal … not that mind-blowing. But according to sources, those long luscious locks were all hers. Mmmm hmmm and I just wake up looking natural beautiful every day. Pa-lease. And if you did, Beyoncé … why didn’t you post pics of the several inches of hair you hacked, hmmm? That moment is totes Instagram-worthy … so what’s the deal?

Brainwashed Status: Psssssh, please :::flips hair:::

Phase 2:
More people start talking about, and by more people I mean everyone in the world. I swear monks that have taken a vow of silence uttered, “did you see Beyoncé cut all of her hair off?!”

I began to get irritated, yet intrigued, over people’s idiotic statements like, “I’m going to sell my tickets to see her concert because what is Beyoncé without her hair?” Umm … whaa? A woman with that kind of endless amounts of dough could make a splash and chop all of her hair off and the next day have a flaming red bob with blunt bangs. I mean, give me a break.

But I couldn’t help thinking about the balls it took to do something so drastic like chopping your hair off. In fact, I found myself bringing it up in conversation: “So how about Bey’s pixie cut, huh?” What was happening?! I curled up in a small ball and began stroking my long, somewhat luscious locks thinking to myself, “I would never hurt you like that.”

Brainwashed Status: Bey is creepin’ on in.

Phase 3:

All it took was one more person.

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, checking my Instagram (no I wasn’t, employer, I was doing … my … job :::thumbs up:::) when I saw one of my favorite models, Coco Rocha, in the process of getting her luxurious locks chopped into a pixie.

What. Was. Going. ON!?

The end product was amazing. She looked fierce. Compared to her pixie, her long hair was yawn worthy and dull. But stop. Wait. She is a model. She is always fierce. But this hair cut put me in a trance. Beyoncé looked amazing, now Coco … maybe I should …


For a hot minute I thought to myself, maybe JUST maybe the big change I needed in my life was to chop off all my hair. Think of how easy the maintenance would be. No more long showers conditioning my long locks, no more hours straightening and flat ironing and curling. I could just shake it out, blow it out, and be done. And then I remembered I had curly hair. And this vision flashed before my eyes for some reason:


What had happened to me?! Had I gone insane. Abso-frikin-lutely I had! I have thick, unruly, kinky curly hair. And I’ve worked YEARS tirelessly to get my hair to this length. Why, sweet Jesus why, would I do something like that to myself?! Sure, if I had a dream team of people who could 24/sev touch up my hair during humid days and constantly reassure me that my head didn’t look ginormous and that I don’t look like a dorky, teenage boy … sure. Yes! Sign me up … but those things just aren’t in the cards now, are they?

Listen, I appreciate the Twiggy throwbacks, but I really hope this doesn’t become a “thing”, because ladies, you need to be a special person to pull off the pixie. You need to think about your personality, your style, what kind of hair you have (curly girls … avoid and use caution), your outlook on life, etc and so forth. Because some women chop of their hair and it only accentuates their beauty, and others … well … yowsa. If we could all have pixie cuts one day and long flowing locks the next like Queen Bey, well, we would, now wouldn’t we?

Sigh. Nice try with the brainwashing, Bey, now if you would excuse me, I need to go whip my long, semi-luxurious locks back and forth for funsies.