Gaga performing “Applause” on Japan’s Music Station a few moments ago.
Updated with HD video and interview.
this is by far the BEST vocal performance of Applause she’s ever done
If you know or don’t know, the arts are so under appreciated that almost no one gives a fuck how you put a show together. They only care about being entertained. However, in order for that to occur, one must be funded. When that word is mentioned along with “the arts”, its like an atheist slamming the door on a Jehovah witness Sunday morning.
As a college freshman, I had auditioned and been selected to play a semi-big role and understudy the leads. It was then mandatory to fundraise for the production by selling advertisements that would appear in the playbill handed out to the guests. I thought this would be a breeze; who the hell wouldn’t want to advertise their businesses and shit? That’s happening all day, everyday: 24/7. Little did I know it was easier said than done. People that said they were gunna buy didn’t end up buying in the end and I ended up only selling one to my former high school and the person in charge was the activities director who I have had problems with before.
Nevertheless, more fundraising opportunities present themselves and this one was to sell food at a car show. In my director’s words, “That seems like a lot of fun!” Mind you, fun to her is sitting at home tending to orchids and pugs.
The food industry has never called my attention. It may have slipped my mind once or twice but having to deal with shitty people disgusted my idea. My theory was proved yesterday when I dealt with the most uneducated people I have ever encountered in my life. My friend and I worked in the ice cream stands , Haagen Dazs and Dipping Dots. After being trained swiftly through things, I manage to fuck up as soon as instructions are given. There was no receipt paper except for a little tiny piece left and I decided to yank it out and request more. By doing so, the cashier stopped working completely. When the supervisor asked what was wrong, I shrugged later finding out I was the problem.
However, the spotlight shifted about half an hour later when we were finishing serving a costumer in Dipping Dots, a woman walked up to the Haagen Dazs stand shortly after I rang the customer up. My friend walked over noticing she just arrived and ask if she would like to be helped. The woman (let’s call her fat cunt) releases this sigh like she had been waiting forever and proceeds to say “well, yeah, I’ve been standing her long enough!” I closed the cash register and handed the change to the costumer and looked at her with this confused look on my face. I then continued over to the next stand . She tells me her order and I scoop it right up. As she is rung up and my friend begins to count her change, FC rages ” I HOPE YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE ME ALL THOSE SINGLES IN CHANGE” as if she didn’t learn in high school that you get beat up for that type of shit. As I handed the ice cream to her and her change by my friend, we let her walk off and began to bash on FC. My friend said to me ” you should’ve spit in her ice cream.” I told her “nah, karma will give her diarreah.”
The next woman came approximately an hour later where she was with two boys, one who looked like her and the other who didn’t. Let’s call this one Foreign bitch from hell. FBFH ordered one for one of the kids and my friend proceeds to serve that order. Then she says, ” oops, I’m sorry, two. My other son wants one.” Good job forgetting you had two children. When my friend serves that one she’s ready to pay. I ring her up and before they leave, she decides she would like one herself! Well, at least you thought of your kids before! you’re doing parenting right…..somewhat. FBFH spoke some other language that sounded German and I asked her if she was from Germany. She said no and corrected me saying she was from Denmark, not the kids. I complimented her and she smiled. Then, when she paid for her own ice cream, she hands me a bill and I look at questionably because she hands me a smaller amount that what it was. I warned her and she replies “you should be giving me 5 in change….it isn’t hard math.” I pulled a 5 from the register and shut it hard and looked at her with my iphone in my hand ready to have her deported. I handed her the five and turned to my friend insulted.
I worked 11 hours straight that day and that was simply unpleasant considering the fact that I was only paid minimum wage which resulted to only $88 when the grand total I need to personally fundraise is $400.
Moral of the story: Shitty people should be flushed.
So, I finished reading “Are you there, vodka? it’s me, Chelsea” and it was definitely hilarious. I went through the phase that most readers go through when they’re done with a book; debating on how to go on with their life and mine was simply inspiration. Why not write my own? I’ve always wanted to write my own fiction series and instantly become famous. However, easier said than done. That shit ain’t overnight.
While reading this memoir, I would stop and think “Is this bitch serious?” If she can do it, why can’t I? Would it be embarrassing? Maybe. Would this ruin my career? Questionable (because I’m not questionable enough with this paragraph so far) So, I skimmed my options and after a self debate, which lasted about 5 seconds, I decided I shall go along with it!Alas, a chance to spicen up my blog and bring it to its true potential and begin this sexy book of mine.
In 1999, it was the first year that I attended school and I was in kindergarten. I skipped that whole pre-k nonsense thanks to Nick Jr. and Playhouse Disney. If Dora didn’t cross the border with a monkey and Bob didn’t take a molly to talk to his trucks before they got to work, I would have to nap on some infected ass mats and begin the slavery at the age of 3. Could you imagine? This was parenting at its prime. My Sony plasma the black mother I always wanted!
So after listening to a wonderful story of this old fat lady in some wishy-washing machine, we were given free time (A privilege that would be taken away too soon). I was a social child and was friends with most kids in my class. We played, shared and colored together. School wasn’t looking so bad. It’s not like I was neglecting my Mexican, contractor and ebony family at home. However, in South Florida, they’re literally everywhere! I think it’s cruel when parents throw kids who don’t speak English into that predicament like ” Hey, you’re gunna start going to school, however, they mostly in English and you will fail if you don’t learn HAHA ok have fun sweetie.” There was this one kid named Miguel who didn’t speak a drop of English to save his life. I decided for free time to sit by the tape recorder and headset to take another listen to this old woman and this wishy-washy machine. This kid walks up to me and I hoped he wasn’t wishing for interaction at this point. Instead of kindly tapping my shoulder for my attention, he shuts off the tape I was listening to as if I were sitting there with headphones off staring blankly at the wall. What a cock-blocker!
"Miguel, con permiso, yo estaba escuchando algo" I immediately turned the tape back on and continued my story. Not even a complete sentence was completed before he shut it off. "Miguel, no!" I demanded (which haven’t changed much since my days of youth.) I turn the machine on only to see this fucker’s finger press the stop button one last time and that’s when I lost my shit. I threw the headphones off my head, stood up from my chair in an angry fashion and walked up to him. He looked scared knowing that his "jodedera" went too far. I’m not particularly sure if I began taking taekwondo at this age but by the looks of what I did next, I either was a white belt or didn’t. I grabbed his arm and sunk my milk teeth into his skin and he let out a scream that stopped the entire class from their activities and to break neck. Once I let go and got my revenge, this monkey decided to copy me and bite my arm. I let out my scream because not only was he going at it, but I was furious that he didn’t challenge me another way. Finally, when he released his jaw and lowered my arm, I punched him right in the nose and knocked him back. Maybe I did start karate or again, I could’ve learned from my black mom.
The teacher was appalled by our behavior, yet since ”I was the one who started it”, I was sent to the principals office. I feared going there not only because I wanted to be seen as a model student, but his name was Mr. Gasman and I did not want to smell any sort of fumes. I was sent to the nurse since he wasn’t in and was forced to call my mother. This marked me as a criminal. I’m surprised they didn’t take fingerprints or a mug shot. The embarrassment, humiliation and defeat was all too much to experience with being in kindergarten for just a few months. Was it possible that it would get better….. or would non-natives keep ruining your life?
*”Miguel, con permiso, yo estaba escuchando algo”- “Miguel, excuse me, I was listening to something.”
*”jodedera”- cuban slang for annoyance.
Selfie at Starbucks. Am I hipster yet?