The last time I went home, I discovered that my dear mum had told everybody in her circle that I was a grade school teacher and then she kicked me in the shins and told me to play along. Parental approval is like the brass ring that you reach for, but never quite achieve, and, to quench your ceaseless frustration, God graciously invented Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
Nobody back in Barbados believes that Rihanna is a school teacher. Not after the asstastic, crotch-grabbing, self-fondling, bent-over, sexual-play-on-stage performance she gave the other night in her home country. Wow. I’ve seen porn movies with less action than the sultry diva brings to her Out Loud Tour. I’m not sure how it’d go over if I grabbed my love sack in front of the peeps back home and sang about light bondage, but I’m certain nobody would pay $50 to see it. Enjoy.