It's official...
I am full-tilt obsessed with Rojo Caliente.
Last night I must have spent a solid two hours googling her and watching shit online.
At work - where I do most of m'blogging - I don't have speakers and the flash player is fucked up, so I can't watch anything, which is a damned, damned shame as there are countless episodes of Jem & The Holograms online and begging to be revisited. Point of this is, I couldn't take in all the supporting Rojo media that was available.
But I FINALLY watched that very tongue-in-cheek interview that QTV did with her yesterday --- and believe you me, I clapped like a seal when it showed them doing the "Rojo Caliente" dance-move (it's really nothing as intricate nor iconic as, say, the twist. It's just aimless jostling of one's torso..) in my old stomping grounds - the campus coffee hutch, COMMON GROUND! HEEEY! --- and just fucking love how seriously she takes everything.
She was down in Panama where her father oft goes for business, and "was approached by a local recording studio" who "liked what [she] had to offer" and "cut 9 tracks" for her first album, entitled simply, Meagan.
She also maintains that her secret to avoiding the threats of alcoholism and paparazzi that have befallen other celebrities like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan who are squarely on Meagan's level as well is due to the fact that she doesn't drink. Ever. Like for real guys, ask her friends.
So it looks like the kids at Queen's are taking every opportunity to exploit this bitch's complete unknowingness that she's a more epic tragedy than Hamlet, further evidenced by this little gem... it's a segment done at what appears to be some sort of singing contest entitled "Best Darn Singer" which she was a judge... forward to 3:10 to see Rojo...
Okay... did y'catch that interview? "The question on everyone's mind - when are we going to be able to see you perform".
Because of "strict contractual agreements", she's not allowed to perform in public anywhere. I lost m'lunch at that part. That, of course, is very easily-deciphered code for "I suck shark balls and desperately need an excuse to not have that fact revealed". Holy fuck. WHY WAS THIS GIRL NOT THERE WHEN I WENT TO QUEEN'S?!?!?!
Sidebar pertaining to that clip #1: Back in my day, we had a similar contest entitled "Campus Idol" which I hosted. The winner turned out to be none-other-than Canadian Idol Season 2 finalist, Elena Juatco, and the runner-up, none-other-than front-woman Joan Smith of Little Foot, Long Foot fame. My 'fee' for hosting was an all-I-could-drink bar. When they won, Elena received a DVD Player (an expensive get, back in 2004) and Joan received an MP3 player (another exotic, high-tech gadget at the time), and I was all "WTF?!". It was then brought to my attention that over the four week run of it, I probably downed m'self close to $500 in booze. Those were the days.
Sidebar pertaining to that clip #2: You'll notice that among Rojo's fellow judges, second from the right, is a woman with a grey bob. Her name is Carol Lynn Reifel, she's the head of the vocal performance department in the faculty of music, and she's a colossal bitch.
I took a vocal performance class for 3 years and each year, the final exam took the form of a private recital you needed to perform for the instructors in the vocal performance department. This private recital - or jury, as it was called - went thusly: You needed to have 5 pieces of 4 languages prepared. You were allowed to pick your first - and presumably, strongest - piece, and they would select the other two. So it was the fucking crapshoot to end all crapshoots... It was just fucking Russian roulette because there would ALWAYS be that one obscure French or German piece that you barely if not at all knew and they'd ALWAYS pick that instead of the Italian piece that you sort-of knew.
I don't speak any other language than English (and, rudimentary, Ebonics), so I'd learn all the pieces phonetically by listening to my voice teacher sing them and just copy each phrase. This particular year I had a French piece that was just a disaster. JUST a disaster. I didn't fucking know it at all and lo and behold, what do they choose for my second piece, but yes - this fucking French song.
So I'm up there, like a fucking asshole, just making up words... I didn't even fucking know the melody - in my defence it was kind of abstract and beyond my limited theoretic capabilities... but in my offence, I'M AN ASSHOLE WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING - anyway... I was just standing there, rolling my eyes and saying shit like "Je veux, von qui son... raquette... parapluie... oui... je sans..."
It. Was. A. Disaster. You can imagine how displeased the frosty Professor Reifel was. It makes my seaman curdle just thinking of it.
That was quite a tanget.
Sidebar NOT pertaining to the above clip: Rojo has a website. And WHAT a website! It's got more hip-hop skank-esque glamour shots of her than you could shake a stick at, and believe you me, shakin' a stick at it would likely be your last reaction. One good thing that came out of her bevy of hi-res glamour shots: I finally know who she looks like... Marcia Wallace. Some may know her as the saucy Carol Kester Bondurant from The Bob Newhart Show... some may know her as nosey community watch organizer Mrs. Carruthers from Full House... most people likely know her as the voice of Mrs. Edna Krabappel from The Simpsons...
Like mother and daughter. Holy balls.In other news:
ONE. WEEK. AWAY.
I'll bet she talks about her vagina. Just a guess.That'll be it for today...
So rojo it hurts,
--- Aj
