For a few days in a row, the world of celebrity sibilingry was looking up. It seemed as if all of the siblings of celebrities finally accepted the fact that if their name isn't Janet or Chico, fame or talent isn't hereditary. I mean, real triumph was being made: Solange got tired of Tina marking the orange juice and hiding the bread and lunch meat from her and Baby Daniel and finally moved out of the Knowles compound, Usher's little bro stepped out of the shadow of a monchichi and started producing music for Gonzo...and all was well.
Then I come across this thing right here:
I have no idea what Ashanti's 18 year-old sister is going for here. Sexy cottage cheese mold, perhaps? With all those waves, she should rent those thighs out to beginner surfers. What's worse, the outfit's not even a dress, it's a damn turtleneck!
Shia Douglass, your big sis Ashanti is holding on to her remaining shard of celebrity by a wing and a prayer and by the elastic of Nelly's draws, you need to let her tell you how hard it is out there. Go down to the learning annex and get yourself a trade or something. Singing and being a sex symbol just isn't in the cards. So look at it this way: There can never be enough microwave repair people in the world.
