“I would like to go see Bayonce in concert, so I got us tickets,” said my mother after watching Beyonce’s documentary.
She refers to queen Bey as Bayonce, and refuses to correct herself.
My concert ritual is typically, Yardhouse, bar at Staples, beer during the show, then Yardhouse or maybe that random mexican restaurant at LA Live.
It’s a whole different vibe going with your mom and her work friends.
I’ll put it like this: everyone was very subdued, while I was dancing with the 17-year-old girls behind me to “Diva.” I might have knocked my Shock Top on one of the clients, but hopefully she was mesmerized by Queen B not to notice.
Bey was bomb.
I wish that Kelly and Michelle popped out like they did at the Superbowl.
Their absence was replaced with my favorite: Les Twins.
One hungover morning in Brentwood, I was desperate for some Starbs and oats.
Cammie and I parked and went in to go order. All of a sudden these two guys in matching outfits run in.
“The black car parked on the side is about to get a ticket.”
Me and Les Twins ran out to my car to watch as a meter demon wrote me a ticket. They tried to negotiate with the devil, but she was not impressed by their matching outfits.
I nearly died, when I watched the documentary and there they were.
Les Twins are loved by LJ.
I wish Bey sang some oldies like Bugaboo and Bills but I enjoyed her rendition of Survivor.