An open letter to Diddy

Dear Diddy:

You have been on my mind lately and I have so much that I want to say to you right now, so many things that just cannot be left unsaid. If there is one thing that I have learned from reality TV i.e. The Biggest Loser, it's that it's okay to express yourself and even cry. So tonight Diddy, I am expressing my feelings to you and will possiby shed some tears along the way.

You came into my world almost ten years ago, when I was in college and I sang "Mo' Money Mo' Problems" to the bums that came around to collect empty beer cans (Natty Light) off of our porch. I loved your rendition of "Every Breath You Take" aptly named "I'll be Missing You" and your "collabos with almost everyone under the sun. When you ran the NYC marathon and launched your "Diddy Runs the City" campaign, I cheered for you! I didn't even question J.Lo's choice of clothes when she was by your side even though some outfits included the half shirt, track pants and bandana combo. You made her look gooooooood! I called you Puffy, Puff Daddy and Sean Puffy Combs, you were my boo.

But Diddy, you really started to lose me in 2005 when you dropped the "P" from P.Diddy stating "the P was getting between me and my fans." Actually, the P apparently stood for "Protection" from your the nonsensical statements that have come from your mouth consistently since then. I've built up my feelings about this for too long for me to touch on all of my issues with you, so I will only discuss the most important ones here.

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SHOUT WHEN YOU'RE ADDRESSING AN AUDIENCE ON CAMERA????


I think that saying the word attention five + times in this video did not motivate too many people to go out and vote I also don't think raising your voice helped either.

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE ALL UP IN DANITY KANE'S GRILL??

Diddy, I know you produced Danity Kane. Wanna know how I know? I watched Making the Band 1-4. I watched Aubrie go from hot to a fine hot mess, I watched Dawn and Q fall in love and I watched you bond with them all on a yacht. I loved every moment except for your cameos on that show when you shouted at the camera (see above). Your news announcements sucked...in fact I fast forwarded those on my DVR (cruel isn't it?).

Diddy, what I'm about to say might upset you: I don't need you to "appear" in Danity Kane's video or "rap" on their songs, I like them for who they are. In fact you make them not cool. I mean Damaged is the best song ever...until you come on and say this:

"It's that type of pain that you feel deep inside. It's the type of pain that'll make you pray. This too shall pass. Sometimes you go through the pain to experience the joy. This too shall pass. Danity Kane. Stereotypes. This too shall pass."

Diddy...seriously....what does that even mean? Why did you toss the Danity Kane name in there followed by the word stereotypes? Stereotypes about girl bands? Stereotypes about pain? Stereotypes about stereotypes? I am so confused and pissed. You practically ruined the song. Thanks.

I have some other problems with some of your recent choices. One is your description of your style in Blender magazine "Swagger. Timeless. Diverse." Um, I'm pretty sure this picture is real and that shirt is actually something you designed and are sellng (I blame dumb ass Americans for that):



Don't even get me started on your pushing of the phrase "Bitch Assness". Listen, some things can be pushed together like "crazy" and "awesome" (crawesome!) but "Bitch Ass" alone is a lame descriptor and then add a "ness" and you're encouraging people to be major D-bags. Serio dude. Drop that.

Diddy, I also want you to know something. It's about this Ciroc commercial:


"Vokka" is actually not a word. It's actually pronounced "vodka". That said, the Ciroc commercial for New Year's Eve is the best thing you have ever done for me and my friends. Thank you for that.

Diddy, you know I got nothin' but love for you. Let's high five and blow it up over a bottle of Ciroc.

xxoo,

The Dirtay Thirtay

Another Playboy Super Saturday Night and I ain't got nobody...

This past weekend marked a monumental event for me...the popping of my "Super Saturday Night" cherry. It was to say the very least -- everything I had hoped for and more.

In case some of you are unsure as to what Super Saturday Night is (i.e. you don't drink the Playboy juice), it is the annual party that Playboy throws the evening before Super Bowl. Over the years, an event that began as a simple bar party has grown to a large scale production complete with celebrity hosts, dozens of Playmates and a pretty good looking crowd. There were definitely some skanks and some old dudes, but Phoenix + Playboy + football = inevitable.

The day began at 8 am with a lovely breakfast at the hotel and a car ride with the Events Director to the party venue. The venue was appropriately called Rawhide and I think is usually a place where people go to watch rodeos. Needless to say, as I was carrying boxes from one of our cars I noticed a goat running towards me. The goat was soon joined by a couple of other goats...Traci was talking to them while I was cowering in a corner (apparently my fear of goats is almost as bad as my fear of flocks of birds). It turned out the goat was just "Billy Joe" and he lived there. We didn't see him again although we did see Chris release his "inner goat".

The day "flew" by in a series of tasks such as placing decals on umbrellas, setting up dancer's costumes on clothing racks and sitting in a car checking people into the party and directing them to park in the wrong place (oops!). I heard some woman's life story including details on her wedding, the cost of her upgraded ring from Zales and the birth of her 3rd child. This brought me to dinner and then makeup/hair time. I think I might have ended up looking a little bit like a tranny (see below), but it's cool.


So...12 hours after arriving at the venue (!) the doors open and I was there to take tickets and break some balls. No one likes to be the person at the door...mostly because people are assholes and it's cold. However, I was entertained and also confused: Why do some people think that wearing a piece of spandex qualifies as "sleek and sexy"? Why do some ladies think that wearing Doc Martens and slacks is appropriate for a Playboy party? Why do people still wear Bolo ties? If I worked for Go Fug Yourself, I might have had a heart attack...however, there were many good looking people to balance out the riff raff such as Alyssa Milano and Tony Danza...I mean Nick Cannon:



Hef and The Girls Next Door came to the party and I got to give Bridget a hug. I also got to dance with Miss. May 2007 Shannon James and of course Charlie, who is the master of the dance. I saw Kevin Dillon and Common from afar, I heard Audrina and LC on the mic but was blocked by some 7' tall man and couldn't see them. At some point I decided that I needed to drink Red Bull to keep going...UM, if you've ever seen me on coffee...this is like coffee x 1000. Amazing.

Needless to say at the end of the night (4AM), I was still hyped up and pretty psyched about packing boxes. I am pretty sure the most ridiculous portion of the evening was trying to shove an enormous umbrella into a skinny box and telling my co-worker Stephen to "push harder" and "get it in fast". ahhhhh....getting my V-card punched was just soooooo amazing.

p.s. I definitely kept it real with all of the 20 something's this evening...thank you Red Bull. My only regret is that I couldn't mix you with the Ciroc that was on-hand...FO REALS, it was the official VOKA of SUPER SATURDAY NIGHT and therefore of PUNCHING MY SSN V-CARD!

The Hazing Incident - Part Dos

Dear Fans,

It's time for the weekly installment of "The Hazing Incident". Sorry if I kept you waiting a long time...but they don't call it a cliff hanger for nothin'!

So, cuddle up to your keyboard and get your hot chocolate out, cause this is a tale that will truly warm your heart. So to begin where we left off...

We arrived in Miami and went directly to The Shore Club where we checked into our room which was...minimalist to say the least. The floor was "bedrock" and although the view was gorgeous...I quickly determined that the rooms had been created with the hopes that no one would actually want to stay inside but would go downstairs to party by the pool, drink $15 cocktails and eat $27 plates of crudite (yes we did all of the above and more...). Luckily for us, Friday was a beautiful day. Unlucky for us the a**hole pool boy didn't tell us that our seats would be in the shade for the ENTIRE day. I am pretty sure Traci almost killed me for complaining about the shade...but finally we figured it out and moved to the beach which was NOT filled with hot guys, but rather a group of loud women who were getting pedicures at their chairs...oh and one of them was doing so topless. When two "cute" dudes did show up to sit next to us, I had to listen to them talking about this woman's tits (their words) and how they wished her friend would rip her shirt off. I say, get a Playboy and call it a day.

Anyhoo -- Friday night was the "official celebration of my 30th birthday" and man oh man, Becky and Traci really mean it when they say something's official (see "Ciroc" and "Chris Duncan"). We went to dinner -- food was good, drinks were also good. After dinner we are about four drinks into the evening and decide it is time to go to Glass a "happening club" that Traci has gotten us hooked up at with bottle service. Of course our first question was "Do they have Ciroc?" which if you haven't heard is "The Official voka" of everything (and no, that's not misspelled...it's VOKA). Luckily they did, but our free bottle was actually of Grey Goose. Here's the deal: when you are four drinks in and someone says, "here's a free bottle of The Goose which usually costs $400" you say "Sweet, let's drink ALL of it...in under two hours." Or at least, that's what we said. And this is where stuff gets sort of blurry. I know there was soda brought to the table (who needs a hangover from the fruit juice??). I also know there was a couple sitting next to us who bought their own bottle and the woman had a butterfly clip in her hair. I also know the AC was unnecessarily blasting...but the pictures below will show you everything else that happened: The Hazing Incident.

Apparently I forced both Becky and Traci to chug out of the vodka bottle (NOTE: only voka when referring to Ciroc), Becky forced me to eat cake which was given to us by another birthday party (it could have been roofied!), the people next to us gave us their bottle of vodka and I hugged them as if I never made fun of the butterfly hairclip AND apparently in an unprecedented hazing tactic, I was FORCED to dance like a 45 year old woman and not the 30 year old Godd-ess I am.

Once this first portion of the evening was over we somehow ended up back at the Shore Club where I can't really reveal the activities that went on because as you know, Hazing is illegal and frowned upon by society. But it involved Goldfish Crackers and a crack...When that was over, Becky and I headed downstairs to keep on drinking. Ahhhh...so necessary.

If you want to find out what happened next, you'll have to wait until next week's installment of "The Hazing Incident". It's like Lost but less confusing and mysterious.

Remember folks....