beyoncé unplugged.

last night, after spending 45 super intense minutes with taye (or, as she likes to call it, “tayetime”), i stopped by angelica kitchen to pick up something healthy for dinner (or, as simon doonan likes to call it, “lesbian take out”). my order took longer than i expected and i realized mid-way through my walk home that the halftime show was definitely going to start before i got back to my apartment. since there was NO FUCKING WAY i was going miss even a small part of this and get downsized to a janky, post-stream recording hours later, i decided to pop into the first place i saw that had both the game and the sound on. aaaaaaaaaand that, my friends, is how i ended up openly crying in a laundromat on 1st ave and 11th st.

granted, my tears were caused mostly by joy, respect, awe, and straight up exhaustion through osmosis, it was still a little bit sad / embarrassing all the same. after about 15 minutes of sheer holy shit wtf no she didn’t-ness, sasha fierce did her signature knees up, floorward back bend and concluded the greatest fucking halftime show this nation has ever known. just then, one of the filipino laundromat owners rolled by with a shopping cart full of wash and fold deliveries and noticed that everyone in his shop was open mouth staring at the television. he stopped for a second and looked up at the screen. then he looked over at me (crying). then up at the screen (halftime). then over at me (still crying). then up at the screen (still halftime). suddenly, his eyes got really wide and he said …