Like something out of the worst episode of Taxicab Confessions, a drunk Chris Brown mumbles in a video he tweeted to his followers that he’s not trying to be a player or a dog and that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’s in love with both RiRi and Karrstablewatercrackers (or whatever her name is). If Chris Brown really didn’t want to hurt them, he should down an Ambien and take a long nap on railroad tracks or have his fightin’ limbs surgically replaced with extra plush teddy bears.
Never mind that Chris is looking like a tattooed Day of the Dead skeleton on meth, what gets me is that this isn’t just some rambling video diary he recorded on his webcam at 4 in the morning. This took some production. They brought out storyboards, had meetings in conference rooms and spent time editing this mess. Professionals probably worked on this crap. Not once did the editor stop, realize what they were doing and then rolled their office chair out of the editing room and kept on rolling, rolling, rolling until they were out the exit door. This is some “True Life: I’m A Colossal Piece Of Trash” shit that’ll make you roll backwards until you’re far, far away.
And of course, RiRi piped in yesterday too:
Yes, it’s nobody’s bidness besides you, your baby and your 26 million Twitter followers. Ugh. Will somebody please take away this dumb dumb’s medical marijuana card and give it to me?