If the sight of this sandwich has your mouth watering like the Pacific, I suggest you go and get right with God.
Because once you start working this sandwich into your daily diet it won’t be long before your meeting your maker.
Gluttony can’t even begin to describe this suicide sandwich. Instead of wasting time with bread, the double down sandwich lets two fried chicken patties take the place of Nature’s Own and then sneaks in slices of Swiss and pepper jack cheese, 2 slices of bacon, and some “Colonel sauce” that would probably make even the most hood Chinese restaurant owner say, “Too salty.”
You won’t even be able to eat this sandwich with your hands because of all the grease! If you did you’ll walk around looking like Jermaine Jackson’s long lost twin.
Yet, I know a bunch of ya’ll are sitting here thinking, “Ooh, where do they do that at?”
So far it’s only available in Providence, Rhode Island and Omaha, Nebraska. If it does well – which it will, we’re a nation of fat asses with death wishes – it will head out West.
The sandwich contains 740 calories, 42 grams of fat and 2100 mg of sodium — but that’s not excluding the special sauce and cheeses. If the calories and grams of fat weren’t bad enough, take a good long look at the 2100 mg of sodium.
Do you know what that’s going to make your heart do?
Sidenote: Back when this song came out, I used to be able to do that, though I bet if I tried it now I’d pop, lock, and drop it to the emergency room. Somebody needs to stretch!
Since moving to LA, I realize this is the land of many KFCs. I don’t know why LaLa land won’t let a Popeye’s biscuit be great, but I do know one thing: All of the fat people who stand in my way when walking somewhere (don’t worry ya’ll: In due time I will live in a deluxe apartment in the sky with fit folks) will take even longer for me to maneuver around them.
Why oh why is a sandwich like this being rolled out when it becomes all the more apparent that the reform in health care reform might be sent to the island of broken promises and unfulfilled wishes?
And wasn’t KFC starting a stampede in their stores a few months ago after getting Oprah to hand out coupons to try their new “healthier, grilled chicken?”
Regardless of whether or not we’re forced out or left to leave on our free will, most of us are afforded the privilege to be able to move forward and never look back once we make an exit from a given situation.
But, when it comes to fame, how audiences first come to greet you is how they’ll always remember you. For LeToya Luckett this is a gift and a curse.
She’ll always be able to gain some bit of press for the novelty of being one of the original members of Destiny’s Child. Unfortunately, she’ll always have to deal with titles like “Destiny’s Other Child” and jeers from those who placed their loyalties with the members who stuck it out.
And even though that group is officially done (until they need a reunion tour) LeToya still can’t escape her ex-band mate Beyonce.
Whether it’s fair or not Beyonce has become a person viewed as the standard bearer for contemporary R&B. That means LeToya – like every other R&B female singer out there – will always be compared to Queen Bey.
That’s unfortunate, because not everyone is meant to be like Beyonce and that should be OK to people. Beyonce is not the end all be all to R&B.
Judging LeToya solely in comparison to Beyonce takes away from the obvious gains she’s made with her sophomore album, Lady Love.
When LeToya first started making the rounds for her debut album, I was taken aback by how much she repeated that she didn’t think she could do a solo album. She was adamant that she saw herself more so as a group artist. There’s nothing wrong with that, but when trying to sell yourself as a solo act you needn’t remind people that your move towards a solo career pointed more towards your own ambivalence than confidence.
Because LeToya seemed a bit uncomfortable as a solo artist, while she certainly managed to score a hit song and album in her own right, it was hard to picture how she could flourish in future projects.
I’m glad that she’s found the confidence and direction she needed.
Though I don’t necessarily buy the press release from her management comparing her to Millie Jackson, LeToya certainly comes across a lot stronger, forceful, and blunt on songs like “Regret.” More in touch with her sensual side on tracks like “I Need A U” and “Tears.” And vocally a lot stronger on the obvious best choice for a first single “Regret,” and urban radio friendly “Over.”
Then are songs like “Take Away Love” which shows LeToya is open to exploration with her song. It also proves she should tap Ryan Leslie for future album collaborations. The same can be said of other collaborators like Tank (“Over,” “Good To Me,” “Regret”) and Marsha Ambrosius (“Matter”).
I could live without her foray into more pop-leaning crossover airplay yearning choices like the Chris Brown penned “Drained,” but there’s no one song on here that’s bad.
Arguably, minus the few spots on the album that rely too heavily on materialism and cliché’s to make the case for love, this is one of the most mature solo offerings from any of the 87 members of Destiny’s Child yet.
Based on some of the other reviews I’ve read, I’m disappointed to find people judging it on its potential to “crossover.”
I’m really annoyed by the notion that one has to “crossover” in order to be successful.
Instead of focusing on trying to attract the attention of fickle pop music fans, LeToya’s label should’ve have thrown out “Regret” as the first single. It would’ve been the best way to reintroduce her onto the scene and would’ve help cement her place as a nice alternative to all of the other R&B acts out there who dilute their sound in order to “crossover.”
My worries about LeToya’s music career aren’t that she’s not capable of creating music than you can remember an hour after you’ve heard it. This album proves she’s able to grow as a singer, songwriter and vocalist.
My fear is that she’ll be limited by people’s perception that she must stay within Beyonce’s lane – then be mishandled by a label who seem dead set on doing all of the things that will prevent her from creating her own.
I remember being a freshman at Howard and being confused as all hell when I took a course called “Gender Roles and Relations.”
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I learned a lot and became confused even more by semester’s end. Confusion isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though, because it allows you to learn about things your prejudices and the outside forces that have produced them would normally not allow you to.
Such is the case for the piece I wrote on B. Scott. Admittedly, I didn’t necessarily get it at first. And like some, I thought that by behaving in a sort of way it made it difficult for others who don’t necessarily share behavioral traits.
That, however, is as flawed an argument as it is a selfish one and the longer I took the to open my mind up the more appreciative I became of people like B. Scott and others who choose to live their life in a way that might not be classified as a norm yet could care less.
I invite each of you to read it, register and leave a comment.
I focus on B. Scott, but I also touch on confining notions of masculinity and whether or not people should have free reign to challenge them.
Judging from some of the responses about my Tiny and Toya piece, I can imagine even less people will hear me out in this article.
We’re all different and judging people before you really take a chance to see their point of view won’t lead result in anything but a bunch of pissed off folks.
Ahh well. I’m young and like me not initally getting it, a lot of people will learn. In due time.
After being sucked into the wonderful train wreck of TV known as The Real Housewives of Atlanta last year, I started to watch the other editions of the series. Although not as engaging as the series in Atlanta or Orange County, I watched The Real Housewives of New York.
One of the personalities I took to most was Bethenny Frankel.
I found her sarcasm charming and the fact that she earned her own money without feeling compelled to be bound by any partner endearing.
She can now go <^> (think about it) herself now for all I care.
In some instances, some people outside of the black race get a little too comfortable and start to spew out “black speak” and other little stereotypes in a way that I can only interpret as mocking. Bethenny seems to be one of those people.
I first noticed Bethenny’s little digs at colored folk on The Wendy Williams Show when she referred to the Atlanta edition of the show as The Real Housewives of Compton.
I’m pretty sure Bethenny hasn’t been to certain parts of Brooklyn let alone Compton.
Is excited to watch real housewivez in the hood now.will sheree put a cap in kim’s ass?just ate at dave’s grill in montauk. Finally did yoga
The second I read this I had to start playing “U.N.I.T.Y.” in my head.
There are more like these:
Is ghetto bc she gets ice&cups at montauk yacht club& makes her own cocktails.cheapskate!also hijacked chairs at gurneys.my name is earl!
I know the history of the word, but if we’re going by how the word is used now it’s evident she knows nothing about the ghetto and she’s using the word to be insulting.
Then there are her blogs on The Real Housewives of Atlanta on E! Online.
Sheree really has gone straight ‘hood.
Again: The hell does she know about the ghetto or the hood?
Perhaps there’s some hood in Park Avenue that I’m not knowledgeable of.
I thought that Sheree went from straight hood to straight ghetto while pulling at Kim‘s wig in the street. She then clarified to boo that her locks were in fact a weave, versus a wig, as if that were some sort of street cred. Wendy Williams has a wig, so in my book, a wig trumps a weave.
When Teresa flipped over a table at her own dinner party were the likes of Bethenny Frankel and small minded people like her talking about how “ghetto” she was behaving?
Why is this pampered princess with false senses of entitlement talking about street cred? Because Wendy Williams is her friend? Bethenny, Wendy is from the suburbs of Ocean Township.
If you want to talk about street cred, holler at your girl (is that enough slang for you, Bethenny?) Danielle from New Jersey. She’s the one with the criminal record and connections to drug lords.
On top of all of this Bethenny employs the tried and true method of disparaging people (especially those of color) based on their twangs.
These broads are more high school than we. Also, they literally don’t speak English. Rarely is there an actual sentence. When Kim is the most grammatically correct, someone should cash in a Fendi bag for an English class.
This is complete and utter bullshit. Tamra from the OC is not the most articulate person on Bravo. Neither is Ramona from NY. Kelly from NY can sound out her words just fine, but none of them tied together form a coherent thought.
Yet, because many of the cast mates of the Atlanta series have thick accents they’re easily written off as functioning illiterates.
Mind you, Lisa Wu Hartwell is from Los Angeles, has no identifiable accents, and is arguably one of the most articulate cast mates of any edition of the Housewives.
Try making fun of her accent the way you do Jill Zarin’s, Bethenny.
Or maybe you can teach all of them to be as classy as you, dear.
I love Nene, and she is a big bitch, but she is a Skinnygirl, too. She owns it. She works those curves, and only dogs like bones.
Oh wait. Nevermind.
Racist people never want to be called racist, but if you throw out stereotypes in such a casual way then it’s evident that you feel a certain type of way about black people.
Or if you’re not a flat out racist, you’re simply ignorant and need to be enlightened.
Whatever the case may be, Bethenny, have a SkinnyGirl margarita and shut your Jamie Kennedy of reality TV ass up.
People can be so simple. It’s what happens when you go through life without reading, without interacting with individuals outside of your socioeconomic status, without doing anything to personally evolve.
This leaves one stagnant, ignorant, and more inclined to fall in line with such trite stereotypes.
None of that will get you on Oprah.
By now I’m sure you’ve seen some of the unfortunate interviews I’ve conducted while promoting my third book, The Vixen Manual.
Can you believe this? And here I thought it was just the niggas who behaved this rudely.
How dare they speak to me that way? I am a married mother of two. As I pointed out in that interview, my dating life in my 20s was normal. Who hasn’t had a fling or twenty with various entertainers and athletes? Every girl has her secrets.
I’ve come to the realization that most of the flack I get stems from jealousy. My haters won’t let me live.
Like her. Who is this and why is my name in her mouth? She says I wasn’t known for being a video vixen. Excuse her.
Take that, bitch.
Actually, let’s stop talking about her because I’m the only FAMOUS one in this conversation and since I am FAMOUS we should only be talking about me.
You’re lucky I’m even talking to you because I’m so FAMOUS.
Isn’t a shame I haven’t been allowed to promote my book properly with all of these distractions?
I’m on a mission to enrich the lives of young single women everywhere. So many lack role models, and through my book, The Vixen Manual, I’m helping them prepare for life as young adults. We all deserve to be courted, and my aim is to show women how to get in tune with their singular selves as they search for companionship.
Here’s a taste of the insight I share in my book, The Vixen Manual.
“Romantic companionship can be tremendously enriching, enhancing all areas of our lives, under the best circumstances. There’s something uniquely beautiful about Blockbuster nights under a fluffy duvet with someone special, our feet touching, our bodies entwined as we steal each other’s warmth. If only for a season, we all experience a very visceral need to couple, to be touched, and to at least feel loved. If it happens with enough repetition and mutuality, you may soon find that you’re no longer single. The trick, however, is to still be you. Even though you’ve found Mr. Wonderful, or just Mr. Seasonal, it’s important to remain singular and not get so lost in this wonderful (possibly seasonal) bliss that you disappear as an individual.”
No one was around to instill these valuable lessons to me as a child, and now I want to give back.
Yes, I know it’s quite thoughtful of me. That’s the type of person I am.
I’m always giving something to someone.
I just want to know when are people going to let that first book go?
Can I live? Are you people that unhappy to the point you have to project your negative feelings onto to me?
I’m gonna pray for ya’ll, because I’m good.
Remember: I’m FAMOUS.
You haters keep my name in your mouth and I’ll continue not knowing of any yours.
First off kudos to you and your jaw muscles for using tales of pursing your lips to various industry penises and taking it all the way to the New York Times best-seller list.
Some people would throw you shade for helping perpetuate negative stereotypes about video models and black women in general, but hey, you gotta eat – and not just rappers’ semen, I imagine.
Granted, when you pass yourself off as some literary great (is Karen Hunter still co-writing your books?) I have to stifle laughter, but hey, you’re on the best-seller list and I’m not (yet).
Bravo, cashew breath. Bravo!
Still, I can’t stand you and I wish the APA would come up with a name to describe whatever mental disorder you suffer from already.
If I were a wee bit slower, I’d buy this little speech you gave these students.
But the fact is you do care what we think. If we’re not talking about you, no one is buying your books; we’re not fooled.
As for you no longer doing the nonsense you did in your 20s.
What about this? And really, Bow Wow? Who are you supposed to be? The naughty babysitter?
“In the meantime, he’s like my best friend. He’s my John Lennon, I’m his Yoko Ono, and together, it just works.”
Yoko Ono? They should’ve never given you hoes cable.
Oh and we can’t forget you saying the relationship isn’t about sex, but then added that he called you to say “Prostitute Flange” is about you and how you listen to it every single day.
As if the song including the word prostitute in the title wasn’t bad enough, the lyrics include lines like, “Yo pussy is like a drug to me?”
Not a relationship based on sex, right? Uh huh. This is why people only believe you when you’re talking about gargling up half the line-up for the BET awards.
I love the fact that you trashed black media for asking “ignorant questions” yet you’ve been reduced as nothing more than an opportunistic whore by the mainstream media.
Not to mention your ex-boyfriend. How are you going to complain about the way black men and black press treat black women then go date a white man who buys into the same bullshit?
Don’t bother answering with your reverse psychology bullshit. I took Psych 101 in college, too.
Then there’s your husband. Or whatever he is to you.
Did you ever end up giving those ass beads back, or did you play a game of poke-a-hole with Shad?
One thing I never understood was if you’re head game is that tight of all the people to end up with you marry Eddie Winslow? I guess anyone who buys The Vixen Manuel now has a chance at bagging Calvin from 227.
Your delusions of grandeur and false senses of entitlement don’t bother me as much as you not owning up to who you really are does.
You suck, you slurp, and you write about it. When you were on your redemption tip, though I didn’t believe you, I at least appreciated the gimmick. Then you went off and went back to your antics literally a millisecond after appearing on The Oprah Winfrey Show.
I’m surprised Gayle hasn’t given you the clap back for lying to Oprah.
You like to position yourself as someone “above it all” yet you’re constantly knee deep in it. Or constantly on your knees. Take your pick.
That’s fine as it’s your business, but be real about it.
Don’t act offended when people bring up your past. It’s still your present. You’re still using your sexual relationships with male celebrities to boost your profile.
Try not to act all high and mighty when people reduce you to something you already have yourself to with your first book.
With “advice” like this:
“This isn’t to say that independence has no value. There’s worldbound influence, where you are able to hold your ground professionally just as much as a man. That’s fine when you’re on the phone handling business or brokering major deals. When your man walks through the door, however, there’s a softer more homebound independence that you can show. It means you know how to cook and clean, and you don’t need someone like his mother (or your mother) showing you how to do so. You can do laundry without turning his whites pink. He can relax in knowing his woman has mastered their domestic terrain. Just don’t look up and find yourself lonely because you were trying to be too worldbound and dominant at home.”
You’re nothing more than a little fortune cookie for patriarchy.
You might want to take her advice:
From one fake ass to another: Face the hoe in the mirror. She’s there…waiting on you to reveal the results of your last trip to the clinic.
And if I were you, I’d rather come with a new gimmick or revamp the old one. First week sales in the book world are no different than those in music. Sure, you can continue to score bragging rights, but you’re not moving books as much as you used to.
You could care less about what I have to say, but you ought to be concerned that the hoe tale market is growing stale.
I hope you’re investing your book earnings. I doubt a fraction of the residuals from Family Matters will be enough to cover your ass.
With lobbyists for everything ranging from porn to bananas (in this instance, there is no connection, nasty), it’s nothing wrong with Scooby, Scrappy, and Yogi having their own advocate, too.
In practice, however, I take offense to some of PETA’s methods in trying to sway the masses to fall into their line of thinking.
Not even their incessant need to throw blood on those who wear fur. Sorry, but if they try that shit with Mary J. Blige, that’s their ass.
No, what gets me is the way in which they handle black celebrities who rock Rocky and Bulwinkle.
Take for instance a post from way back that I wrote about Jay-Z. It detailed how a spokesperson from PETA wrote a letter to Jay-Z in “hip-hop speak” (re: black). I found it to be as patronizing as it was incredibly stupid.
Even worse are the correlations the organization sometimes make between animal rights and slavery.
I distinctly remember PETA showing pictures of African men and women in shackles and placing their images next to that of Dumbo and the Lion King in chains.
In no way shape or form are the two comparable. I always say such an opinion to be something a white person would say.
Enter Nia Long, who just reminded me of Zora Neal Hurston’s adage, “All my skinfolk at kinfolk.”
“It’s a clean beautiful ad but the message is clear from that one photo, from that one image that all living things should have the right to live….I’ve realized how important it is that we really take responsibility for the environment, for treating animals with love and care just like we would any human being. I really do believe that all things that have been given life deserve to live life. It’s no different, in my opinion, from slavery or the Holocaust it’s just that we’re not dealing with human beings, we’re dealing with animals, but it’s still a living thing.”
First off, white readers, my bad. It was wrong of me to assume only someone who checks off the Caucasian box would say something so asinine.
Forgive me? I hope so.
Anyhow, where is Nia Long’ publicist? Did she write one too many bad checks? I mean, since Nia claims Beyonce’s taking all of her jobs (Shazaam!) and all.
The Newport’s explain her mouth, but what sort of narcotic has is she using to cause her to think a raccoon being skinned to make Mama Combs a hat is the same as enslaving an entire race of people for centuries and throwing another group of people into an oven for sport?
Was the PETA check that good? I hope she was paid extra, because I wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of people out there aren’t inspired to commit black-on-black crime after that.
This is the problem I tend to have with certain organizations that should be open to all, but tend to be headed by “liberals” who pose as people evolved and tolerant, but typically fall in line with the typical racist bullshit.
Like the feminist movement, like the gay rights movement, and very much like the animal rights movement.
Sadly, now we have black people helping them perpetuate such an ignorant way of thinking instead of enlightening them to a different point-of-view that would ultimately make their groups more inclusive and thus more successful.
If you are a self-respecting person of color and dare liken animal rights to slavery, you need to build a tree house in the jungle and go live with the rest of the animal kingdom.
I can’t believe she even fixed her mouth to say something so stupid.
Jesus be a history book, Allah be some common sense, and Zuul of the Netherworld be a damn clue.
P.S. That’s why they didn’t even give your silly self a belly button!
If you actually think there’s a disco stick waiting to be freed from the duck tape that acts its personal prison between the legs of Lady GaGa, then you’re likely the type of fool to fall for a Nigerian email scam.
This woman is not a hermaphrodite, but what she is an artist skilled in the art of manipulating the press. It’s a talent that seems to have been lost on a generation. I honestly can’t think of any other popular female artist besides GaGa that’s been adept at playing the press on the levels of Madonna and Janet Jackson.
I’m sure their stans would love to argue that like Britney and Christina fit the bill, but:
I swore when someone sent this picture to me I thought it was Bret Michaels. I was so ready to respond with, “I don’t care about Rock of Love.”
As it turns out, that’s Britney Spears, which proves my point.
This poor girl, between her family, the pressure, and the lack of K-12 tutoring never stood a chance. Life and the media jumped her and while she may be off most of her meds, she’s not at the level she used to be.
Then you have Christina Aguilera, who thought she was ahead of the game giving her best Madonna impersonation to the press, but poor thing, Autotune may be for pussies, but look what flinging hers got you?
That’s why I don’t think either can be lumped into that media savvy category. Both have their talents, and each got as close to that level of celebrity as the aforementioned acts. Yet as far as outwitting the press, nah, not even a little bit.
Unlike the others, although I think GaGa has a gimmick I feel that it’s one of her own creation.
I don’t suspect there is a team of handlers around her pulling strings. If that were to be true, she probably wouldn’t be a star. You’ve seen the charts. Many of the industry folks couldn’t get you to buy an album with their money.
Not to rile up the older crowd, but GaGa, with her bisexual confirmations, outrageous outfits, and over-the-top sound bites and quotes is giving vintage Madonna. Only difference is these days it’s harder to shock people, so the most a person can do is start a rumor that the woman has an 8-ball and pool stick carefully tucked in her leotard.
On top of that, she is actually talented. She can sing, play instruments, and when she claims to be a songwriter I believe her.
It’s not, “Oh I used my star power to force a songwriter to give me publishing.” Or an instance of someone taking a pre-written song and adding a cough at the end of the track and getting credit for it. She actually writes.
Finally there is a pop star with a brain and actual skill who can joke the journalists
Every so often a new reader asks, “Do you like anyone?”
Instead of giving my usual, “No, actually I hate everyone – especially you,” I smiled and said, “You’ll see.”
And now you do.
Don’t trip, though: Until she records a song with Gucci Mane she’ll only go so hard.