Flo.Rita.

That title grabbed your attention didn't it? I am known for my titles, after all.

Really I'm not. But I'd like to be known for something and so I guess I will just award myself with the title of being known for titles. Uhhh...I'm rambling.

Anyhoo, I know there is some crazy young rapper guy (I am a 30 year old, extrememly caucasian female, can you tell?) that has betwixt himself the name FLO.RIDA. Which I find particularly clever if you are, in fact, from Florida - but ridiculous if you are, in fact, from Des Moine. I don't know much about him, granted, but it isn't because I have anything against crazy young rapper guys - it's just because I don't listen to the hard stuff.

Now, if he had toured (or was currently touring with) 4Hymn - then maybe I would know him. But if not, then I'm lost.

Durn it. Rambling again.

But I couldn't help but spot a picture of Mr. Flo.Rida the other day as my Billboard magazine obsessed husband left it lying out (AGAIN!) on the kitchen counter. Normally, a husband leaving a magazine laying out on the kitchen counter would not promote such irrationality from a wife, but Billboard magazine is different. It is, literally, 3x the size of normal magazines and is usually covered with pictures of musicians that are either a.) young, beautiful and air-brushed or b.) terrifying. There seems to be no in-between.

I'm sorry but I cannot cook a Paula Deen dinner while a fresh faced Leona Lewis looks up at me with her big brown eyes that scream, "Eat that? Never look like this."

Sheesh.

Or then there was the day he brought it in and left it laying out on purpose because the cover was absolutely terrifying. I'm serious. Terrifying. There were some people wearing masks - and if you have read my blog for very long then you know I DO NOT get along with people who wear masks. That cover...oh, I dare not speak of it. Ever. Let's just say that I ripped the devil-spawned cover off the front, ripped it up, threw it in the trash and proceeded to walk throughout my house with some oil and a prayer cloth.

*The AG is currently reading over my shoulders and would like it to be known that he does not subscribe to this magazine for pictures of Leona Lewis, satan's favorite band, or even Mr. Flo.Rida. But for the articles that deal with his area of the music business and for the current listing of charts which cannot be found anywhere else.

*I would also like to add that if you believe that, then I have a 1990 Honda I would like for you to take a look at that is in top-notch condition with only 2800 miles.

As I was saying...or trying to say...Mr. Flo.Rida really needs to look into a nice, Old Navy belt. Or maybe some suspenders. Something for the love of pete that will keep the man's pants up. Bless his heart, that can't be comfortable. If you don't believe me check out his website (which I will not be linking here for reasons that will, indeed, be obvious if you were to check out his website.)

I mean, just last week my bra strap kept slipping off my shoulder. I griped under my breath all day - came home - took it off - and marched it straight to the closest trash can. AND THAT WAS A STRAP FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Imagine what I would have done with pants. (Not that I've ever known the feeling of pants slipping down. Nope. Not ever.)

But Mr. Tramar "Flo.Rida" Dillard, do our young people a favor and pull your pants up. Look what you've started, even in our house? And we're Republican.

And apparently Remi saw the lovely young lady Mr. Flo was posed with on his website; I imagine she would heartily approve of this shirt. In fact, there's a good chance she owns several.

Yes, it says, "I'd Rather Be Naked." And believe you me, Remi would. Or as I now proudly refer to her as, Flo.Rita.

You can call her that, too. But she probably won't answer.

So what are we creating here? A rappy little freak monster, that's what. So I tell you this much, I am ending that subscription to Billboard magazine TODAY! And will replace it with Pat Robertson's 700 Club magazine. The AG will never notice the difference.