ARE YOU READY FOR WENDY WILLIAMS?!

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My big sister in my head, Wendy Williams, is back with her daytime show on FOX starting July 13th. Set your DVRs, sneak out the office to a local electronic store, do whatever it is to watch this show…’cause it’s gonna be mayhem!

Also be sure to check out Wendy’s new book Ritz Harper Goes to Hollywood! (Ritz Harper Chronicles), ya’ll already know its filled with all the juice in hollyhood!

Read an exclusive excerpt after the cut…

In Los Angeles, Christopher “Hardcore” Harris sat in his sparse mansion, the only remnant of his past riches. Ritz Harper accused Hardcore of being a gay rapper and effectively ended his stellar career.

Almost immediately, Hardcore planned a comeback; and he would be so hard this time around, that no one would ever believe the gay rumors.

Hardcore went underground, reinvented himself and reemerged as the Dark Beast, a Goth-inspired rap artist. No label would meet with him, so Hardcore took matters into his own hands. He filmed his own video, and released his entire album on the Internet. He was confident that fans would support him.

The first release—that went straight to YouTube—was Soul Stealin’, a sinister rap (with a hook from a nursery rhyme) that paid homage to the art of grave robbing:

A tisket a tasket
crack open that nigga’s casket
get the gold tooth out of that nigga’s mouf
he won’t need it
cuz he’s gone down south

The light complexioned Dark Beast dusted his face with white translucent Goth powder, and encased his eyes in vamp, eggplant eye shadow. He donned Victorian black brocade trousers and high-heeled Goth gentleman’s boots. With his full-length, three-tier Coachman’s cape, the Goth transformation was complete.

On the video shoot, Dark Beast was outside of a graveyard, during daylight hours. He was so busy posing and lip-synching for the camera, that Dark Beast didn’t see the actual internment that was taking place behind him. (That family is suing him).

Hardcore anticipated the video to go viral, and it did, after Vibe trashed it:

“Hardcore’s ghoulish fake-Goth-star alter-ego is the biggest marketing flop in the history of hip hop.”

Rolling Stone was worse: “Hardcore’s career is dead and buried. Perhaps he should venture into the graveyard to dig that back up.”

The video generated more than a million hits, but less than a hundred downloads of the album.

Not one to give up, Hardcore sent a demo to Goth rocker Marilyn Manson, seeking a rap duet. Manson was actually considering it. Things were looking up, Hardcore thought.

He was listening to The Ritz Harper Excursion and couldn’t believe that she was outing him again!

Ritz continued.

“The DownSouth crew, you know, those Atlanta gay boys, threw a backyard barbecue in a rented cabin. Hardcore was there and my sources tell me that he disappeared into the backroom where he served it up real good. And the entrepreneur passed out his CDs, too! Hardcore might have thought that his salad-tossin’ tongue tricks were safe, but the party hosts had cameras in every room to broadcast live footage throughout the cabin. The revolving door of DownSouth boys report that Hardcore is very talented, although everyone left their CDs behind.”

The phones lit up.

“Hey, Ritz. This is Babydrinka from the Bronx and let me say one thing, Ritz, I wanna get on that VIP list when Hardcore comes to town. His brain is fire!”

Ritz went to the next caller it was a woman.

“I’m not surprised by the down-low parties anymore. But why not let us women hang around so that we can learn a few tricks?”

Ritz laughed at that.

“Yeah, let’s open a BJ academy! Let Professor Hardcore share his secrets…”

Aaron played the sound of someone slurping a drink. Then a caller stopped him cold. Aaron mouthed to Chas, “It’s Hardcore. Should I punch him through?”

Chas thought for half a second. “Yeah,” he said. Aaron hesitated, “Are you going to tell Ritz?”

“Just put him through,” Chas replied. This was going to be interesting. Ritz was oblivious, and that made for great radio moments.

“You’re on The Excursion, speak your mind,” Ritz said.

“Bitch, you’re dead!” Click.

The caller’s rage sent a chill up her spine.

“Dayum dude, it’s just radio!” Aaron yelped over Al Pacino’s “Say hello to my

little friend” clip from the film Scarface. “We play the hits, we don’t deserve a hit.”

Ritz was speechless.

Chas instructed Aaron to play the outro.

Ritz tried to regroup before signing off.

“I will be away for a few days getting some Hollywood sun and some more dirt, so take care and I’ll catch you back here on Wednesday!”

The “On Air” sign turned off and Ritz went off.

“How in the fuck did that happen?” she tore into Chas. “Did you want me to have a panic attack on the air?”

Chas was pleased. And his poker face was solid.

“Shock works both ways; it made for great radio, trust,” said Chas, his delivery was believable. But Ritz was still angry.

“Los Angeles will do us some good,” Ritz huffed loud enough for everyone to hear. “I need to reevaluate a few things about you and me.”

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Wendy Wililams Posted under Books, Tune-In by LexAve