Word: hille
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Virtually all of ELIZABETH HURLEY's anatomy was on view last week at the London premiere of boyfriend HUGH GRANT's film Notting Hill. But the part of her that got the most stroking was her ego, as Hurley upstaged the film's star Julia Roberts by wearing a nearly see-through Versace dress. Roberts did not go entirely unnoticed by the fashion press, but unfortunately it fixated on her armpits, which were visibly unshaven. Note to Julia: next time, try cleavage...
...then my man replied that the acts could very well have existed without Lauryn Hill on every cover of every magazine, and that that's enough for him. Who needs a public eye larger than the pockets of "real heads" in the urban centers of the world? When the culture's audience and participants grow, so does the culture's production of nonsense in order to satisfy the new buyers who never knew that Stetsasonic predates The Roots' hip hop band idea, or that the Jungle Brothers were once dope. The culture is only hurt by fans who get schooled...
...These people are trying to be like hip-hop, I say to myself. I simply am. If KRS-1 claims that one can "be hip-hop, standing in line at the supermarket," why can't I be hip-hop while concentrating in C.S.? Don't I listen to Cypress Hill's "Hits From the Bong" in the Science Center terminal room? Don't I fight for my right to party? I smile as I recall the wealthy, cookie-cutter suburb of New York City where I grew up. Maybe I'm not quite ready to break out the turntables...
...currently striving to fit in, check out the Harvard-insignia golf balls currently democratically available at the COOP for a mere $XXX]. Lawncare became a major summertime preoccupation and a major moneymaking industry. Lawn culture is now the stuff of American iconic legend: through shows like "King of the Hill" and films such as "Edward Scissorhands" and "The Burbs" to ads pushing everything from barbecues to beer, the Man And His Lawn archetype has been canonized...
...These people are trying to be like hip-hop, I say to myself. I simply am. If KRS-1 claims that one can "be hip-hop, standing in line at the supermarket," why can't I be hip-hop while concentrating in C.S.? Don't I listen to Cypress Hill's "Hits From the Bong" in the Science Center terminal room? Don't I fight for my right to party? I smile as I recall the wealthy, cookie-cutter suburb of New York City where I grew up. Maybe I'm not quite ready to break out the turntables...