Seeing as the MTV VMA’s were, like, a whole few days ago, I figure no one cares about this. But caring what other people care about has never been my strong point(a), so…
MTV Overdrive is now Mac compatible, but they got rid of the fullscreen action, which was really the best part of the whole thing. The Mac version runs about 30 seconds behind the PC version. I found this out because I have more than one computer. And I’m cross platform.
At any rate, I decided to see how much of the VMA show I could actually watch via the backstage action. Besides, having been behind-the-scenes at more than one of these awards shows (no Ozone), I figured if anything truly exciting was gonna jumpoff, it would be jumping off back there(b).
My observations are as follows:
- 50 Cent complains to Cipha Sounds, who always looks incredibly uncomfortable in front of the camera, about being treated like a terrorist by the MTV staff. Apparently he’s been wanded more than a handful of times (which is really silly, because Young “Greatest Southern Rapper Ever” Buck has already proven that them G-Unit boys can go to war with green room cutlery) and is doing that joking-but-serious thing that he does that always makes me realize that he’s actually more unhinged than anyone knows. When Cipha changes the subject by mentioning the “Entourage” freestyle and the whole “I am New York, jack” comment, 5th says of the other NY rappers: “Put ‘em all together, add them up–that’s my last album.” Now, that’s what we call funny and true.
- Andre 3000 doesn’t seem as weird as everyone makes him out to be. Doesn’t mean that the album is any good(c), but still.
- Douchebag Diddy, looking to reach even newer and deeper levels celebrity absurdity, refused to speak, opting to have some guy speak for him on the red carpet. I guess the Didster’s play is to create inane talking points and staged events ad infinitum to distract from the fact that he has no discernible talent and his legacy will forever be marked by artists who were murdered, jailed, driven to do Barney’s work or otherwise decided that they were better off carrying shovels in barbershops or moving stainless steel refrigerators in high-rise buildings than recording with him. And the look Diddy shot his speech carrier when the plebe referred to his Doucheness as “Sean John” out of the bed? Priceless.
- Jay-Z doesn’t ride an elevator all by himself. He rides with normal people. This shocks me to no end(d).
- The female MTVJ’s are some serious eye candy, but I’d sell drugs to your grandmother before you could pay me enough to be that vapid a sycophant.
- I’m pretty much convinced that Chris Lighty is Jamie Madrox. That mothacuffa was everywhere.
- Chris Brown has no game. He tried to kick it to Vanessa Minnillo and totally played himself(e).
- Lala tried to get Pharrell to do an on-camera interview in the elevator just before he went ontsage to lip-sync the hook to “Money Maker” with Ludacris: Pharrell refuses. Lala reminds him that there are cameras everywhere, including the elevator(f). Wamp Wamp looks at the camera, stares. Yells “Shit!” Lala is embarassed. Wamp Wamp yells, “Fuck!”
. . . I’m not sure what happened next as the drugs(g) had begun to take effect at this point. But I’m guessing someone at command central decided to get away from that foulmouthed young man. The feed followed the elevator exit in an awkward silence and then kinda froze. On both computers(h).
Sometime later, Sway and some white guy were trying to convince me that watching Jessica Simpson put on her makeup was actually exciting. They also kept telling me that there was some “Just Happened” button that I could hit to see what, well, just happened. But I couldn’t find it. And when I did find it, I couldn’t get it to work.
By this time, the drugs were taking a great hold on me(i) and I decided to abandon the experiment altogether, figuring that anything worth seeing would be on Youtube. And once you have Tubesock (which you should), life is okay.
P.S.– We don’t sleep in my hood this weekend. Up your speed.
(a) Feel free to ask any woman who’s ever loved me.
(b) Speaking of jumpoffs: Weave carriers + hotel minibar = crazy delicious.
(c) I would say more but I don’t want any limited edition Dunk-wearing goons coming after me or my editor.
(d) And he doesn’t actually carry Beyonce’s purse around–which shocks me to to no end, as well.
(e) Obviously, he should leave such heavy work to men who might have a certain facility for smooth talking a lady.
(f) Seriously, they had more cameras running than on The Sentinel.
(g) Surely you don’t think that I’d be sitting in front of three computer screens watching such a clusterhump were I sober.
(h) And I know it wasn’t my connection, because my laptop was still loading Pornotube properly. (So not cuffin’ SFW, btw.)
(i) So much so that when I came across the notes for this post a few moments ago, I had no idea what I was looking at.