Remember when they made a movie about Whoopi Goldberg as a nightclub–singer–turned–nun on the run from the mob and it was the greatest thing you had ever seen?
It was 2 a.m. when I got off the plane in Kolkata, India, and immediately I noticed two things: the heat, which was almost suffocating, and the condition of the airport, which consisted of only two gates.
I blame my parents. They’re emotional wrecks. My mother has no "average" setting. She’s always manically happy, severely depressed or feverishly angry.
Combining hip–hop, rap and pop, Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded serves up classic Nicki while exhibiting a definite change in her unique style of music.
I’m always the most awkward around new people. I feel the need to point out every personal flaw I have, which usually reverts back to my horrible taste in just about everything.
I have not one, but two, My Heart Will Go On dance remixes on my iPod. I consider Amanda Bynes to be my spirit animal and I think the fact that The Devil Wears Prada isn’t on Netflix streaming is a crime against humanity.