So today my iPhone decided to go positively ballistic. While I thought that suddenly my luck had turned for the better and I was being telephonically accosted by a bevy of blond, muscular beaus that were coming out of the woodwork hungry to batter this body into butter without making it bitter, the truth was of a slightly different angle. It seems every news channel had grabbed onto push-notificating me that Queen Latifah had suddenly burst out of the closet and was finally a happy, proud carpet-bagger. Or is it muncher? Eh. Anyway, yeah, she was a lesbian, and that would make a lot of lesbians very, very pleased, can I get an amen.
I just wish I could have been able to go back to sleep, but let's face it - it's not exactly good to snooze your way through work, especially when your cubicle faces a rather busy aisle and the Boss might see you, snoring away, fingers at the keyboard. Why can't these notifications happen at a less critical time, let's say, early evening, as I snooze my way towards the gym? People and events have to start happening at a time that's more suited to me. Something has to be done about it.
However, good news turned to eh? news when later this afternoon blogs and news items began circulating that no, she hadn't come out, she was just a private person. Again, I failed to see any true interest in this other than a slight sense of bemusement reminiscent of when Ricky Martin came out, or when Jeremy Renner went on the rampage and made his threats about other people's underwear, which bi-curious guys, if you didn't know, is a major turn on for me. I'd gladly give any of my man-panties as a parting gift. I have good taste, even there.
So now, I'm getting mixed reports. Which has led me to this - my humble two cents on the topic:
"So Queen Latifah came out. Or was outed. Or sorta came out, but not really. Anyway you see it, I never saw in her the type of woman who would go ape for a banana peel."