My, Oh, My...

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The meat of this memoir, addresses, among other things, Ja Rule’s wife as a gullible dope, Ice-T as an easy-to-fleece Sugar Daddy, Shaq as very generous but disappointingly endowed, Bobby Brown as a hallucinatory drug addict she had to slap silly, Usher as a cocky, disrespectful jerk, and P-Diddy and Xzibit as possibly on the down low.
Here’s how she recalls first meeting Jay-Z, who took her for a ride in his Mercedes during a break from making a music video. “After a few moments of silence, Jay pulled out his penis, covered it with a condom, and placed his hand on the back of my head. We carried on in the car for a while and headed back to the set as if nothing had happened.�

Karrine Steffans. I remember being very impressed by the never-ending string of celebrity names she dropped during the course of our conversation when I interviewed her years ago. The then unknown actress, who was making her screen debut in A Man Apart opposite Vin Diesel, never let on exactly what she had done to make it in Hollywood.

Being a single-mom, she was undoubtedly embarrassed that she had shamelessly slept her way to the top, behaving precisely in the way suggested by all the misogynistic gangsta’ rap videos she’d appeared in. But after almost dying from a drug overdose at Mr. Chow’s, a trendy restaurant in Los Angeles, Karrinne, bottomed out. Lucky for her, she found God, got off drugs, abandoned her self-destructive lifestyle, and re-dedicated herself to raising her young son. Lucky, for the rest of us, she decided to write Confessions of a Video Vixen, a tell-all autobiography recounting the lurid details of her lustful liaisons. Unluckily for her lovers, many of whom were married, she names names, and even rates them in terms of size and satisfaction.

Nicknamed “Superhead� for a skill which needs no explanation, she became so popular in certain circles that she was able to among those leaving notches on her badly whittled bedpost were rappers Puff Daddy, DMX, Xzibit, Jay-Z, Ja Rule, Doctor Dre, Ice-T, singer Bobby Brown, murdered Cosby Show regular Merlin Santana, R&B crooner Usher, NBA star Shaquille O’Neal, actor Vin Diesel, rock star Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit and Brandy’s little brother Ray J. Steffans starts her steamy page-turner with a few of chapters about her abused childhood (“I hate my mother.�) on the island of St. Thomas. She came to the U.S. to live with her absentee father, but that didn’t turn out any better. Next, she ended up impregnated by a character who called himself Kool G. Rap, a washed-up wannabe whose real name is Nathaniel Wilson.
Tired of being beaten, she contemplated suicide, but instead left her newborn with his sadistic father, setting her sights on L.A. A boob job and gray contacts later, Karrinne discovered that she had a certain power over men, and was turned on by the idea of satisfying guys that so many other women wanted. The meat of this memoir, addresses, among other things, Ja Rule’s wife as a gullible dope, Ice-T as an easy-to-fleece Sugar Daddy, Shaq as very generous but disappointingly endowed, Bobby Brown as a hallucinatory drug addict she had to slap silly, Usher as a cocky, disrespectful jerk, and P-Diddy and Xzibit as possibly on the down low.

Here’s how she recalls first meeting Jay-Z, who took her for a ride in his Mercedes during a break from making a music video. “After a few moments of silence, Jay pulled out his penis, covered it with a condom, and placed his hand on the back of my head. We carried on in the car for a while and headed back to the set as if nothing had happened.� What a charmer. Confessions of a Video Vixen, a book I defy anyone to put down, is, quite frankly, the most revealing groupie expose’ I’ve ever encountered. The book ought to be mandatory reading for any starry-eyed, aspiring actress even thinking about heading to Hollywood. For if just half of the allegations contained in this spellbinding confession are true, I feel totally vindicated for all of my diatribes against rap as misogynistic.

Excerpt from the book: “Where young girls once aspired to be models and ballerinas, they now aspire to be hip-hop video girls. I sat down to write this book because I think my story can serve as a warning to anyone aspiring to the kind of life I have led. Like so many young girls, I grew up wanting to be famous. I used to watch television and dream about the Beverly Hills lifestyle seen in all my favorite film. I reached most of my goals, but I didn’t do it in a conventional way. I did it using the oldest trick in the book. Sex. I was known as ‘Superhead,’ the insatiable lover of many Hollywood stars, sports figures, and some of music’s most influential performers and executives. My hips have swayed and popped on MTV while I danced on tabletops and poolside in some of your favorite videos. The top reason a woman finds herself in a rap video, sprawled undressed over a luxury car while a rapper is saying lewd things about her, is a lack of self-esteem. No one who values, loves, or knows herself would allow herself to be placed in such a degrading position.�

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