Nah, it ain't this giN, but we'll get to her channeling Omarosa the Orge behind in a minute...
If being totally honest, then I have to admit that I haven't been up on Ultimate Hustler and the other "reality" shows dedicated to showing black folk in the workplace, which is a shame since I'm always blogging on the realities and craziness of working while black, female and professional. However, I don't feel bad for not watching b/c I don't think any good and law-abiding citizen-Negra like myself should be forced to stomach the fake tears, overwhelming stupidity and terribly-ignant broken "English" ov dem profeshinulls on dose shos.
But, then again, before one of my friends blasts me via the comment box, I'll stick to the honesty theme above: I can't watch these shows cuz I can't afford to partake in the pleasuring afforded by TWC (time warner cable). So, as much as I'd like to blame my lack of IQ (Ignance Quotient) on a discerning taste in literature and culture, I just can't...at least not fully.
Now, back to this chicky...Hailing from Hotlanta, GA, call her Marshawn, think Martin, the "Mar-tian"...or as in the hip-hop, momma and daddy collabo, Marcia & Shawn; Marcus & Shawanda or m-a-r-s-h-a-w-n-m-e-l-l-o, like, ya know, the fruit. While I didn't watch the show, I don't believe I need a Ph.D. in psych to label this chick angry and decide that she spoke too damn slow to be on the likes of The Apprentice. First of all, can somebody please tell me what's up with those tampy-string length Magic City requisites dangling from her ears? Secondly, what is with that god-awful white piping on her collar, bringing to the mind that Kathy Ireland collection at the Big K? She looks like the producers tossed a hood over her head, snatched her behind off "stage," mid-table top, and plopped her down in front of a camera somewhere at NBC Studios. But not before giving her a new suit coat and a fresh coat of gloss. I bet poor thing has been suffering from pole separation anxiety ever since...
Yes, I do understand that she more than likely did not have much say in selecting her photo wardrobe, but I still blame her. Those Jewish girls would have NEVAH! let that Glamour Shots-degree'd minion of a stylist within arms reach!
No wonder she didn't make it that far...no backbone and no damn style.
BTW, the actual Negro in the final is some cat with a whole bunch of degrees. Perhaps, I'll cover him later on.