Meet Jennifer Lopez; the woman who insists she is from the block. All the time. I’m always weary of characters that feel the need to emphasise a fact so often. If it’s you, it’s you. It will permeate through your being without you forcing it down people’s throats. None the less, J.Lo has continued to use her songs as a six-year-long therapy exercise, to make emphatic statements about who she is: ‘I’m real, what you get is what you see,’ ‘I’m still Jenny from the block.’ Yeah, ok we get you. Who are you trying to convince, love?
Wikipedia lists Jennifer Lopez as an actress, singer/songwriter, record producer, dancer, fashion designer, television producer. In other words, Jennifer Lopez is confused. She is joining the ranks of the other career schizophrenics who got lucky doing one thing and figure they’ll do several other things mediocrely; anything for a few bob. Just have a look at the J.Lo range in Argos. Dire.
Miss Lopez was born in the Bronx in 1969. She attended a catholic school but escaped life at the convent aged 19, where she got two jobs to fund her dance training and auditioned relentlessly. She landed small gigs as a backing dancer in a few rap videos. Merging dance with acting, she proceeded to win small roles on fledgling comedy shows of the 90s and even “starred” in Janet Jackson’s, 'That’s the Way Love Goes.' Riding on the back of the Latin American heritage thing, her big break came when she scored the role of tragic Latin singing sensation Selena Perez in the aptly titled, Selena.
She worked really hard up until this point, and then she started getting... complacent, maybe? I mean, how many times must I endure her in the ‘Small town girl with unassailable beauty, enchants powerful city type; all socio-economic issues go out of the window because love conquers all' type films?
It was during this time that husband number one came along; Ojani Noa. He got axed because he couldn’t hack the fact that he was the house-husband and she was bringing home the chorizo.
Then the big-headed one (aka P Diddy) squeezed into the room. But we’ll ignore him because there’s no need to acknowledge his existence as the man is so perilously close to being ingested by his own ego.
Jenny claimed that her Love don’t cost a thing, which was technically untrue. The whole Bennifer thing cryogenically froze Ben Affleck’s acting career (remember Gigli? Was it a reference to her ass? Spanish for shite? The mind boggles…)
On from there, dancer Chris Judd choreographed his way into her life and lasted a nano second before she completed her circle and came back to the original teenage sweetheart, Marc Anthony. You know, the one that was previously with the former Miss Universe (just how illogical is it, that the guy with the boniest face in the world can get these bombshells falling at his feet?) And now she’s preggers. And thank God she is, because I can only blame those horrendous outfits she’s been wearing (to “hide” the worst kept secret in history) on her flyaway hormones. Now, just to prove I’m not a complete bitch, let’s all bow our heads and pray that the little mite takes her features, not his.