Thursday, December 13, 2007

Dear J. Lo,

Listen, mija, I know you're fabulous about 75% of the time (you don't get a pass on that fringe-y shit you wear just because you're 'Jenny from the Block'. Nobody gets a pass on any fringe-y shit). Believe me, I see the Us Weeklys and Peoples in the supermarket checkout lanes.

Let's examine some lyrics, shall we:

"Strangers always got some mess to spread,
But I have learned to flick them off.
Can't walk a mile in YSLs,
I strap them on and I walk it off."

Fabulous. You still got it baby! Defiant pseudo-ghetto lyrics expressing both your individuality and your penchant for expensive footwear? Love it! Wrap it up, slap a bow on it, and stuff it down my chimney!

...Or that's how I would feel, if you didn't choose to package it thusly:


Honestly, girl, what do you want us to do in light of this? The poor numbers you got after two months of sales? Chalk it up to shit like that.

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