The pursuit for fame, while seductive in the monetary perks of success, has always left me baffled. Why in the hell would anyone want to live in a world where everybody knows your name, privacy's a thing of the past and anonymity hits the pavement running? And as unrelenting and judgmental I am towards celebrities, I'd be a walking coke binge from slings and arrows being hurled my way. Just hearing the verbal diarrhea from people I ran into after getting my attack of the killer tonsils had me feeling even more self-conscious than usual. Backhanded compliments of the "Omigod, you look fab! Did you lose weight? Oh you were sick? Aw. Well.... you look amazing, though!" variety only served as fodder for the uncomfortable silence that soon followed. Never mind the fact I cried myself to sleep for half a week, the important part was I got all the benefits of retching up lunch without the nasty bile aftertaste. Gee, thanks. For the average person, it truly is cruel to be kind. Take that multiply it by 1,000 in high-definition scrutiny and there you have a taste of what it must be like to have those struggles played out in checkout aisles nationwide. In short, the media's a motherfucking bitch. Which leads me to the incredible shrinking diva-on-a-mission, Janet Jackson. You always know when her project's on the horizon as the Pillsbury doughgirl cloak starts falling by the wayside just in time for the new video premiere. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm ecstatic that her snap-back warranty hasn't expired yet. She's been my visual motivation on my fridge for years and this latest metamorphosis is just what I need to step up my summer slim down. However, the extreme measures undergone to make sure that famous figure is camera-ready again has to take a toll. We saw where playing on the yo-yo string of scale fluctuations got Luther, is it going to take another exhaustion spell on tour to get Jan's head right? But then again when you've got a family like hers, it isn't that far of a stretch to see how winding up with a face full of Häagen-Dazs is almost inevitable.

Labels: body image, Janet Jackson

It's Janet, Miss Jackson if ya nasty. And my month was just made with the news that the finishing touches are being placed on her forthcoming, still untitled album. According to Billboard.com, longtime producer Jimmy Jam confirms that things are coming towards the homestretch.

"Hopefully in January we'll be done with her project," says Jam. "We're trying to have a single around February and the album around April or May. It's up to the record company, but we'll definitely have it done by then. We're real close."

Schwing! I'm kvelling like a Yeshiva at a Yisroel Williger concert. Like shmearing shmaltz on a matzah. In layman's terms for those not fluent in Jewisms 101, I'm fucking amped, people. Anyone that knows me well enough can attest to being a card-carrying platinum member of the rhythm nation for eons with my spare house key on the earring as a show of good faith.

However, in spite of my symptoms of unwavering fandom, I'm not blinded with rose-colored glasses to the point where I can't recognize the real. Coming off the disappointing sales of 2004's Damita Jo, La J's gonna have to step her game up to truly get her groove back. And listed below is a checklist of pitfalls to avoid suffering another career malfunction in her quest from boob-bearing punchline to diva-on-mission to reclaim her mojo.

How To Go Multi-Platinum Without Really Trying:

1. Sprint your ass up and down the Malibu coastline daily. Double up on a session of spinning and repeat. The recent paparazzi flicks reveal a hot buttered mess that's a far cry from the six pack that inspired scads of women to purchase Ab Rollers in vain. Damn Gina! What happened? Put down the Krispy Kremes and pick up a few colonics, stat!
2. Lay off the overtly explicit material. It took Marco Polo less time to stumble across the Silk Road to China than it has for you to fully explore all facets of your orgasm on record. You like sex, we get it. But there's gotta be a more creative way to express it aside from waxing poetic about "the warmth of your mouth."
3. Your loyalty to a fault will be your Achilles' heel if you don't rid yourself of the tired ass choreography. It's time to clean house and rid yourself of the little Hawaiian no-punch who's been recycling moves and adding nothing worthwhile to the repertoire. Yes, I mean Gil. Yes, I know you've shared eyeliner since the janet. tour. But he's ovah like North Face bubble jackets, honey. Cut your losses before another video mimics an ESPN2 cheerleading competition.
4. For the love of couture, hire a goddamn stylist. Any more public appearances in outfits like this or this will force me to ask "where's René?" at the next album signing. Bankroll's too stacked to constantly commit ensemble violations. Leave those kind of missteps to the Vivica A. Fox's of the world.
5. Quit trying to compete with the youngsters that are raiding your laundry for ideas on the watered down pop/R&B with a sprinkle of a guest rap for street cred and bring back the Minneapolis funk, dammit!

Get the point? Good, let's dance.

Labels: Janet Jackson, music