The video for " Love Slave", for instance, features Pearl in a skin-tight leather dress just staring the fuck out of this half-naked dude in red buttless chaps. On top of that, she had an angry staring competition with RuPaul, on his show – that's like starting a fistfight with Oprah, or having sex against the gravestone of someone you know, or snorting coke off your nan's gentle, downy-haired head while she naps it's just not something that's generally done.Īnyway, Pearl's music career thus far has been just as we'd hoped. Pearl Liaison is legit the sexiest and most bad AF bitch to have ever sashayed (or casually dragged her heels, as it actually was) down RuPaul's runway. But if your flesh isn't rippling while "Legs" comes on something is terribly wrong with you, sorry. Miley Cyrus, of course, coming second only to Laganja in the race for pop stars who are extremely about marijuana cigarettes and oral sex. The rest of her music career has mostly been spent screeching "WEEEED" over a super dirty early 00s Christina Aguilera beat and choreographing for the likes of Brooke Candy and Miley Cyrus. Until Rye Rye shows up and sets everything on fire, Laganja's flow is actually pretty good for someone who, out of drag, looks like Peewee Herman cosplaying Robyn. Basically, it's designed to throw your back out, one way or another. As much as this song is about taking a dick, it also, more importantly, feels as though it was written specifically so Laganja could soundtrack her own entry to a room. It is impossible to listen to this song without being confronted by the image of Laganja Estranja performing a sickening death drop every four seconds as per one of the most iconic entrances in Drag Race herstory. That said, all the music she's released since has been coated in so much damn auto-tune, someone could probably tell me she is La Roux and I'd be like, "wow great new direction for La Roux!" She thought she had the range, but she did not have the range. As this clip from All Stars two will remind you, the girl did not have the range. These feelings were once again brought to the surface every time Phi Phi O'Hara opened her mouth on Drag Race season four, and emitted the sound of a deranged Disney princess, but with an expression that did not know it. It wasn't bad, but it definitely wasn't good either, and the whole experience left me with a weird range of emotions: pity, then intense guilt for the pity, then a deep discomfort and annoyance for the discomfort, then protectiveness, then fondness, then pity again. When I was 12, a good mate of mine stood up in class, unprompted, and burst into an extremely serious and screechy a cappella rendition of Hilary Duff's " What Dreams Are Made Of" from The Lizzie McGuire Movie, just to impress this guy who wore Colgate-coloured tracksuits every single day of the week.
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