Unless you, too, are a bitchy, mean-spirited jackass who likes to guise your insecurities by undercutting everyone else around you in order to pump more air into the balloon capsuling your faux sense of superiority, I can’t see how you see it for Baloo. I guess she’s interesting to look at as she spews out a bunch of bullshit she’s worked super hard of convincing herself to be true. Sort of like a gussied up version of your average fool on the sidewalk near a CVS. Maybe that provides a kind of entertainment value for some, but I’m exhausted by it.
If I could, I’d hire Cecily Tyson to visit Balou in a dream – A Christmas Carol style – and warn her to humble herself. She’d be joined by Nell Carter, Erica Alexander as “Maxine Shaw” and maybe one of the Backstreet Boys. No, someone from Troop or Portrait. Yeah, that’ll do it.
I want to be happy that a small town Georgian stripper who married her oldest and most generous stripper went on to secure cheap fame by way of a reality show and the graciousness of two white gay men who just adore her Black drag queen act as it’s the closet thing each will have to a gay Black male friend, but damn, why be so nasty even after you secured the dream?
Balou was starting to go back to her jovial, not as miserable persona in the first two seasons of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, but clearly evil is hard to keep captive.
She is like that one country family member who is blessed with a come up and proceeds to act completely brand new. The sort that reminds you of her rags to red bottoms story every damn Thanksgiving and Christmas. All you want is your yams, macaroni and cheese, turkey, duck, chicken, ham, peach cobbler, cookies, and brown liquor and here comes this New Money Negro blabbing about her damn self. Gon’ somewhere, Balou. We can see you’ve “arrived.”
However, someone needs to remind her that while it’s “fabulous, darling” that she made it to broadcast television, she is not being chauffeured around the streets of Hollywood because the Emmy and Golden Globe awards attached to her tits are causing her big ass to stumble over. Not to mention, for all this “growth” she professes about her character – molded after herself, mind you – has exhibited, it’s not like she’s playing a paraplegic crackhead who found the cure of not just her illness, but the cure to AIDS and cancer while dreaming of a new pound cake recipe.
Again, shout out to you for making a way, but since you’re so adept at reading people, here’s food for thought: You are the 2013 equivalent of Rerun. In other words, so scale that shit the fuck back, b.
You can just tell she lives for the fact that she is on a white show as if that makes her so above everyone else. Even if you wanted to go by that self-loathing logic, it’s just one white thus far so slow it down, Balou. You could easily be replaced by some other gag of a reality star.
I damn near threw my remote when I heard her say on the last episode of Housewives that some people can’t be happy for other’s success.
I’m like, what kind of trick mirror do you judge your life by? You shaded Kandi’s past, present, and probably already have prepared remarks about her future; you definitely gave Kim the cold shoulder when “Tardy for the Party” made some money, plus when she signed her spinoff; you never saw it for Phaedra because it seems to bother you that she finished her degree; I believe Sheree about you saying, “You could make way more money with just me”; already you’ve started giving Kenya the shade via Twitter for her imdb page when fact is, as it stands now she’s still done more than you overall no matter how hard she may have fallen.
All and all, Balou is a successful asshole. There have been others that have come and gone before her and there will be plenty more after. They all appear to be just as miserable as they were before they hit because they never cured whatever it was inside that bothered them.
Bloop that, remix Rerun.