Some times when I’m high at home alone, (or to be honest when I close my eyes in heaven [an awful gay bar in London, which I love]) I pretend, no I become, my Sasha fierce alter ego in my head. His name is Boyance, and he’s just like me only he can sissy bounce.
He’s not exactly like Beyonce who sort of fails on the feminist front:
nor was he ever involved in this debacle. (the music video not the song)
All I can think of when I see this song is that this is what life must be like for bitchy skittles.
But now the mother of little miss blue ivy, is gonna be all up in our cinema screens, directing a film about her life, staring her.
which you can learn about here.
I’m just praying for an Errol Morris style performative documentary, where Beyonce plays Beyonce.
Meta-movies are so chic right now.