How Bougie is THIS?

Pimps Up, Hoes Up: Sexing Your Way to Your 15 Minutes of Fame

Ya'll know how I love smart people. Today, please join me in welcoming one such lady as our guest blogger. Carolyn Edgar is an attorney and writer living in New York City. She is a contributor to the NYC Moms Blog and has also contributed to My Brown Baby. Carolyn's personal essays have been published in Reconstruction Magazine and Mirror on America: Short Essays and Images from Popular Culture (Bedford/St. Martin's). She is a graduate of the University of Michigan and Harvard Law School. We've been enjoying some Twitter thoughts and she had a little something to share. Enjoy and show her some love: (By the way, I embedded the videos neither of which are appropriate for viewing ever. Get your Pepto ready)

I too hate what OneChele referred to in her post yesterday as "the new trend of Mistresses and Groupies on Parade." Somewhere in the universe, the woodwork must have squeaked, because every other day there's a new freak with a new story to tell sell.

The groupie/ho business is getting serious. Lawyer-to-the-stars Gloria Allred has practically turned it into its own branch of the entertainment industry. Allred is the CEO, COO and General Counsel of Skankville Inc., pimping these girls and their stories for all it's worth.

The how-to-be-a-ho formula has worked for generations. Take one famous male athlete/actor/singer/politician (or husband of a woman who is one or all of the above); add one or more groupies, preferably of the blonde, big-breasted variety; subtract one despondent wife; leak enough salacious details to the media to whet the public's appetite, and voila! Let the famewhoring begin!

For the formula to work, the salacious details must sound like copyedited versions of Penthouse Forum. Thus, we've read about John Edwards' sex tape in which he performs oral sex on pregnant Rielle Hunter. We read Kwame Kilpatrick's texts to his love-starved chief of staff Christine Beatty and Tiger's embarrassing texts to one of his groupie chicks.

When the groupies leak their stories, they never contain unflattering facts like: his penis is the size of a well-endowed two-year-olds; he was too drunk to get it up; he aspires to be a one-minute man – all the stuff you know is probably true. The truth would destroy the economic value of the tell-all, and that economic value makes them newsworthy. No one wants to hear that famous people sex is as boring as the sex they're having at home. Accordingly, the stories enhance the famous men's aura of masculinity and virility. Paradoxically, by having an affair with one or more hot women, the cheating husbands appear even more desirable and attractive.

Kat Stacks, another wanna-be player in the ho game, failed to grasp the importance of telling a good story. The stories on her now-blocked blog weren't titillating, they were sad and desperate. They made you want to get her into counseling and send her to a GED course. Allred's services are well out of Kat Stacks' reach.

But that's the problem with the ho game. The men, not the women, are the ultimate winners. Sure, one of Tiger's babes got a settlement, but what about the others? Notably, black mistresses often fare worse than their white counterparts. Karrine Steffans got a couple of book deals out of giving great head, but not all of the mistresses have been so lucky. Just compare Eliot Spitzer's main call girl Ashley Dupre, and Kilpatrick's mistress Christine Beatty. While Dupre has an advice column in the New York Post and an upcoming spread in the May 2010 Playboy; Beatty just moved to Atlanta after being unable to find employment in the Detroit area following the mayoral scandal.

There are many reasons why being a mistress or groupie is not a sustainable business model. Karma truly is a bitch. Specifically, karma's the next bitch. There's always another one: younger, blonder, with bigger boob and butt implants. Mistresses and groupies have a short shelf life, and success breeds copycats. Once it's known that the guy in question can be had, women will fall all over themselves to get next. And very few of these guys generate the type of income that breeds big settlements, the type of settlements that can assuage hurt feelings when he moves on to the next chick.

It's not that the men escape entirely scot-free. But who do we refer to as a ho? The men are said to have "made mistakes" and "should apologize to their wives," but they get shiny new stud images to boot. After the cheating husbands perform some public act of contrition, the public forgives, and their careers go on.

Meanwhile, no matter how much Kiely Williams tries to p-pop herself out of being a forgettable Disney starlet, the only reaction her "Spectacular" video stirred up was general revulsion. It's rumored her next song is called "Open My Legs, Tell Me What Ya Think." If she named it "Open My Legs and Get That Speculum" and featured her next Pap smear in the video, and I don't think the public would give a damn. She may try to go the basketball wives' route next, but I'm not even sure she could pull a bench rider making league minimum at this point.

I worry about how my teenage daughter will be influenced by the notion that growing up means throwing all caution and your legs open to the wind. So far, her only reaction has been "Ewww!" I hope when she's older and her understanding of sex goes beyond sex ed and it-can-get-you-pregnant-and-make-you-sick, she remains disgusted by all the women who use sex, not their brains, for the come-up.

What say you BougieLand is skank-and-tell the new hustle? What can be done to make it all stop? What are your thoughts on Rielle Hunter getting on Oprah? A show like Basketball Wives (where only two of the 20 are actual wives) was watched by 1.6 million people – the Hell? Ya'll know what to do: thoughts, comments, opinions? The floor is yours.

In case you missed it: How Bougie is THIS?


Originally posted in August of 2009. Still relevant. Ya gotta love the Wheel of Bougie!

We've had spirited discussions surrounding the definition of bouge; we've looked at the good, the bad and the ugly. So now let's play a game… [jeopardy! music starts in the background] How Bougie is THIS? (Also known as Wheel of Bougie!)

I will share a BougieTale and tell you how bougie I think it is, you can comment in and let me know what you think.

  • A girl I know has gone bowling twice in the last few months with her co-workers. After the very first outing she was irritated (slightly nauseated) with the class of bowling shoes she was forced to rent, she bought her own pair of bowling shoes to wear. She bowls an average of once every three years. I say… it's a l'il bouge.

  • BougieMom had an emergency appendectomy a few years ago. As I sat in the hospital waiting room, an older gentleman from a large black family approached me. "Ya hungry, baby? We got some food downstairs." I declined since I had already eaten. Now I assumed they meant the cafeteria or they had set up some sort of buffet. When I went out to the car, my people had set up their patio chairs in the parking garage. They had about six Fry-Daddys going and were dipping chunks of catfish and hushpuppies into the oil. A big cooler was open and they were passing beer and soda around in a circle. Right out in the middle of parking level B, Section 2. I say… it's ghetto-fab.

  • Sitting in first class on a flight from Hawaii to Los Angeles (okay, we're already up to bouge). I'm seated next to a drop dead gorgeous dark-skinned sister who is dressed to the nines. She has diamonds winking and blinking from everywhere possible to place one. But she cannot seem to get comfortable. She pulls out her baby pink Pashmina and wraps herself in it, she pulls out an apple-scented neck-roll and rests her head on it. She puts on her noise-canceling headphones and begins to sip her Evian. Finally, she turns to me and says, "Do you mind if we switch seats? The way the light hits my jewelry over here is giving me a headache!" I blinked rapidly and say, "Uh, sure." I say… überBouge (maybe a little trifling)?

  • Standing on a balcony of the W Hotel Dallas witnessing a fight between a male friend and his girlfriend. They are arguing; the man perceived that the woman had been too friendly with an unknown fella inside the club. The disagreement escalates as he says, "You cannot just shake your a** the way you used to before you met me." Awkward silence. She then explodes in a torrent of epithets ending with, "You don't own me, you #*%! As a matter of fact, you can take back everything you ever bought for me!" She proceeds to fling her earrings and purse over the rail. Then she reaches under her dress, yanks off her panties and flings those over the rail too with these final words, "Now I can go back to shaking it anyway I like!" I say two things… restraining order and… just plain ghetto.

  • A woman I know was trying to throw together something to eat on a Friday night. Too lazy to go out for new ingredients, she decides to cook using whatever she could find in the fridge and freezer. Her tossed together meal turned out to be Veal Parmesan, Pasta Primavera using squash, zucchini and fire-roasted tomatoes on top of Whole Wheat Rotini, spinach and field green salad with garlic olive toast. Forty minutes from start to finish with a glass of red wine on the side. Now that's bouge.

Would you score them the same? Would you score them the same if I told you that the bowling shoe girl is BougieSis and Veal Parmesan girl was me? J

How Bougie is THIS?


We've had spirited discussions surrounding the definition of bouge; we've looked at the good, the bad and the ugly. So now let's play a game… [jeopardy! music starts in the background] How Bougie is THIS? (Also known as Wheel of Bougie!)

I will share a BougieTale and tell you how bougie I think it is, you can comment in and let me know what you think.

  • A girl I know has gone bowling twice in the last few months with her co-workers. After the very first outing she was irritated (slightly nauseated) with the class of bowling shoes she was forced to rent, she bought her own pair of bowling shoes to wear. She bowls an average of once every three years. I say… it's a l'il bouge.

  • BougieMom had an emergency appendectomy a few years ago. As I sat in the hospital waiting room, an older gentleman from a large black family approached me. "Ya hungry, baby? We got some food downstairs." I declined since I had already eaten. Now I assumed they meant the cafeteria or they had set up some sort of buffet. When I went out to the car, my people had set up their patio chairs in the parking garage. They had about six Fry-Daddys going and were dipping chunks of catfish and hushpuppies into the oil. A big cooler was open and they were passing beer and soda around in a circle. Right out in the middle of parking level B, Section 2. I say… it's ghetto-fab.

  • Sitting in first class on a flight from Hawaii to Los Angeles (okay, we're already up to bouge). I'm seated next to a drop dead gorgeous dark-skinned sister who is dressed to the nines. She has diamonds winking and blinking from everywhere possible to place one. But she cannot seem to get comfortable. She pulls out her baby pink Pashmina and wraps herself in it, she pulls out an apple-scented neck-roll and rests her head on it. She puts on her noise-canceling headphones and begins to sip her Evian. Finally, she turns to me and says, "Do you mind if we switch seats? The way the light hits my jewelry over here is giving me a headache!" I blinked rapidly and say, "Uh, sure." I say… überBouge (maybe a little trifling)?

  • Standing on a balcony of the W Hotel Dallas witnessing a fight between a male friend and his girlfriend. They are arguing; the man perceived that the woman had been too friendly with an unknown fella inside the club. The disagreement escalates as he says, "You cannot just shake your a** the way you used to before you met me." Awkward silence. She then explodes in a torrent of epithets ending with, "You don't own me, you #*%! As a matter of fact, you can take back everything you ever bought for me!" She proceeds to fling her earrings and purse over the rail. Then she reaches under her dress, yanks off her panties and flings those over the rail too with these final words, "Now I can go back to shaking it anyway I like!" I say two things… restraining order and… just plain ghetto.

  • A woman I know was trying to throw together something to eat on a Friday night. Too lazy to go out for new ingredients, she decides to cook using whatever she could find in the fridge and freezer. Her tossed together meal turned out to be Veal Parmesan, Pasta Primavera using squash, zucchini and fire-roasted tomatoes on top of Whole Wheat Rotini, spinach and field green salad with garlic olive toast. Forty minutes from start to finish with a glass of red wine on the side. Now that's bouge.

Would you score them the same? Would you score them the same if I told you that the bowling shoe girl is BougieSis and Veal Parmesan girl was me? J