Mariah: Let’s Talk, Fat Kid to Fat Kid.

                                                                                      Mariah.

I had a Vison of Love, and this dress had nothing to do with it.

Girl, we need to talk. Fat kid to fat kid. The situation is serious. Whitney is gone. You’re the only left one who can SING. (I’m not counting Christina because she doesn’t seem to want to put down a donut long enough to belt out her one verse in “Lady Marmalade.”) We need you and we want to like you. Your voice is a once in a generation phenomenon. It’s so good that people overlook your weird fascination with Hello Kitty, and girl that shit ain’t right. Plus, we know that you’re a good person and a good friend. You always let Jermaine Dupri get a cameo and you’re probably paying Da Brat’s mortgage after she went to prison for beating that hostess in the back of the head with a rum bottle. While you’re a great friend, it seems they are not. I’m basing that on this picture. You and I would be great friends. (We could sit up in your penthouse sipping champagne together and getting down on some Entenmann’s cheese danish while we laugh at all the poor people below us about how poor they are and then write song lyrics that remind them of how sad they are but don’t worry we’ll be your inspiration and we could call the album THE SUNBURST CARNIVAL OF MIMI AND JOHNNY O and for the album cover you could be sliding on a rainbow into a pot of gold and I could be bursting out of the sun!).  So let me break this down for you as a friend, fat kid to fat kid:

  1. I get that the kids made fun of you because you were bi-racial, but you’ve sold 100 million records so let go of the need to prove something. Every adult who isn’t living in a 25 million dollar Hello Kitty decorated Manhattan penthouse knows that bi-racial people are the most beautiful, and every gay would adopt a bi-racial baby if they could. Just embrace the fact that you’re a big girl.  Don’t worry; all of your fans are bigger than you anyway so it doesn’t matter.
  2. I don’t know what size that dress is, but I do know it’s not your size.
  3. What I do like about this is it reminds me of the video for your song “Honey.” You looked great in that. What I don’t like is that you seemed to have doubled in size since then, but your clothes have gotten smaller. Have your maid Lupe check the settings on your dryer because something is amiss.
  4. Judging by the above pic you must still be breastfeeding, which is great! What’s not great is your lack of a bra (Or as you might say on a champagne and xanax tinged QVC appearance, brassiere dahling). Have you ever had an ice cream sundae (duh, of course you have) that starts to melt quicker than you can eat it (mmmm probably not, but stay with me) and it starts sliding off? That’s your left boob in this pic girl.
  5. Stop trying to be J. Lo. You have a discernible talent. She does not. That’s why she has to work so hard. She always has. While she was ON the 6 coming in from the Bronx you were already on the Upper West Side trying to Make it Happen. Just show up in something that actually fits you and sing.
  6. Who the F— is Meek Mill and do I have to get into him too? Couldn’t you have just featured Lil’ Wayne and called it a day?
  7. Or how about Diddy?
  8. Yeah I know J. Lo hit it, but you had him first in a bad ass jet skiing scene from the Honey video!
  9. I don’t know where this photo took place. It looks like the gold encrusted basement of your Egyptian pyramid (don’t front- you know you know you got pyramid money) but it looks like it’s hot therrrre (speaking of- how about Nelly???- he would have been a great cameo!). Your skin looks…moist. So maybe cut off some of the six feet of synthetic hair you’re wearing?
  10. As your husband the terribly annoying indefatigable Nick Cannon knows, America’s Got Talent. Assuming he’s American and not one of J. Lo’s cousins from Puerto Rico that you have to employ because she’s too busy to habla with him, I would suggest the guy who Photoshopped this pic as a finalist. Cause He. Got. Talent.

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