I had plans for Usher
I have had an elaborate plan, brewing for years, that I was sure would propel me to stardom comparable to that of Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, Pamela Anderson (and some local celebs I won't name for fear of acid).
I love live music, and this weekend I am headed to Montego Bay for Soul in the Sun. Every time these shows come up, I take the opportunity to rehash memories of great shows gone by and my past attempts to execute 'The Plan'. I couldn't help but remember the instance that 'The Plan' was first hatched.
It was a time when Jamaica was consumed by 'tapes' and the infamous legacy earned by the stars of said tapes. I figured it was time I debuted on a tape of my own. But I needed a co-star worthy of the privileged title 'Patria's Leading Man'. My choice, none other than the very sexy Mr Usher Raymond performer extraordinaire. He was A-list enough to get the tape noticed by international press and would have been worth the sheer humiliation and degradation of the world seeing ALL of me.
Usher Raymond rocked my world on Saturday, July 24, 2010 ... like I knew he would.
The location: Catherine Hall Jamaica the 18th staging of Reggae Sumfest.
The lead-up was awesome. I was at the very front of the stage and his sweat dripped all over my body. He did all his hits, You Make Me Wanna, all the way through a wonderful journey of love and lust and dancing and feeling good. Brilliant! Icing on the cake were the cameos by Mavado, Elephant Man and Chris Brown. Amazing set!
We shared special moments. Our eyes made many a connection and there was one critical instant where he was mirroring my dance movements and winking at me. The thrill of his performance on stage was proving better than I could have imagined. I couldn't wait for later, for the 'private performance', which we were sure to record and place on You(Ch)ube. But there was a problem.
The position of front and centre of the stage gave me the clearest vantage point of his every crevice and corner. And I inspected every inch.
After careful scrutiny (amid my intense groupie screams), I deduced two critical things:
1) His member was probably pretty small, average at best.
2) His hands were very unkempt - long nails and all.
Now don't go thinking that the first shortcoming was my reason for not hurling my panties in his direction. I could have got creative with that. But the nails, man, the nails. Usher, honey, with the amount of money you make, you can pay someone to bite your nails for you! Them long nails were a huge turn-off and unforgivable. Hurl!
So for his performance on stage: A+
Fi him finger dem: F-
And now, at 32, I'm glad Usher's nails put the nail in the coffin to my plans. It would surely have been a decision I would have regretted, no matter how much fame it brought me. Can you imagine my future child Googling my name and finding my 'feature film'? Horror of horrors.
Stupid things have a way of living on. When I was young, thank God, there wasn't really anything to capture the horrible decisions made by my generation. The only evidence of our stupidity was the memories of our friends and perhaps a fading Polaroid or two.
Not so for today's generation. Their stupidity lives on forever. On YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and the list goes on. And it spreads like wildfire. And it can never be deleted. It may be gone from your sight but it's still out there, hovering in that infinite pit of painful memories called cyberspace, just waiting for someone to revive it at the most opportune time. And it can be seen from anywhere in the world.
Those whose tapes have propelled them to stardom are few. The vast majority have endured shame, ruined careers and unhealing hurt. Folks, no phones, no video cameras, no photographic memories, nada. As my grandma would say, "Heed my warning."
Keith Sweat, Johnny Gill and Sisqo, I know you are coming this weekend but, gentlemen, you're half a decade too late. I'll still thoroughly enjoy your performances on stage but there shall be no after-party, not with this girl.