Everyone hates me right now. I hear that a certain cop didn’t appreciate all the publicity I gave him (see page 20) and put me on the OPD shit list. I’m not exactly sure why, but the House of Blues hates me (beef is officially out of control: a hip-hop mag vs. a venue??). I also got a phone call from Lil’ Kim’s Queen Bee Records, and I don’t think they were amused by Noel’s article about her in the sex issue. Some local rapper is pissed off that everyone knows my name and no one knows his, so he rode past the club screaming “FUCK OZONE” out of the backseat. Children, if you are not old enough to drive a car, you are not old enough to talk shit about me.

Things have not been easy lately, with stress coming from all directions. But, my very close friend’s mother treated me to breakfast and reminded me that good things always take time to build, so, “Don’t make long-term decisions based on short-term vision.” That concept applies to every aspect of life, so even though I feel like quitting at least once a month, I’m not gonna give y’all that satisfaction. I’ve crossed paths with a lot of aspiring [fill in the blank], and looking through my contacts a few days ago I came across a lot of names that made me wonder where they disappeared to. I’m not gonna let myself become one of those names.

Now, let’s talk about all the big names that are bouncing checks. Master P filing bankruptcy? Mike Tyson filing bankruptcy? Rumor has it that Cash Money bought so many cars, they don’t have any money left to pay for their studio time. I was one of the few [hundred] lucky recipients of a bounced check over the holidays, from a certain New York entity. I won’t put them on blast yet, ‘cause they still owe me. Pay up!

Shoutouts to DJ Statik, PaulWall, and Chamillionaire, but seriously, what the fuck is wrong with Houston? I wasted a lot of money and time for nothing. At least i got to visit the ghetto mall (where Mannie Fresh refused to do a drop without his publicist’s approval). My celeb radar was way off the whole Super Bowl weekend. Why is it that the most ghetto parties always give you the most problems trying to get in? I’ve got ten security guards hovering around my camera bag while ten guys slip past the metal detector untouched. And I’m not even going to comment on that prick at the door of Club Dipset.

After that boring trip to Houston, I ended up at Mardi Gras, where I finally found something to write about. A few months ago I had a little issue with this publicist who basically told me I would never be able to get any more interviews without her help (she was clearly wrong, as you can see by the Choppa article on page 40). If you have a problem with me, let me give you some advice: don’t ever, EVER, put me in a position where I have a point to prove. I don’t seek out confrontation (maybe I push a few buttons every now and then just to see what happens), but like Sonny Chulo says, if you try me, I will rip you a new asshole. Where shall I start? First, let me clarify that this is all in fun. Conflict keeps me on my toes and on top of my game.

The craziest thing about the music industry is that you can be too talented for your own good. If people (especially women) feel threatened by you, they’ll do anything to stop you. I don’t blame you, though, ‘cause if I were you, I’d be scared of me too. Apparently, this publicist is so afraid that I might beat her at her own game, she spends more time trying to blackball me than actually do her job. In simpler terms, think of it like this: it’s 1999, she’s Irv Gotti, and I’m 50 Cent. We all know how that turned out, so please, do me a favor and keep hating me. Executing your own personal vendettas at your client’s expense? Tsk, tsk. Bad publicist. And you have the nerve to lecture me on work ethics? Ha! She already proved my point, spending money out of Roy Jones’ pocket on bullshit “media outlets” like the laughingstock of Orlando, the Word on da Street DVD (circulation = 12) and excluding legit media outlets. I didn’t have the pleasure of visiting with my favorite publicist in New Orleans, but her assistant (**insult deleted** - I don’t really know you, so I’ll be nice) made a futile attempt to leave me stranded at 4am in the ‘hood. Nice try, but it’s gonna take a lot more than that to stop me. Like Juvie says, look at all the obstacles I’ve been through - what makes you think I would be scared of a bitch like you? The only person who can stop me is me. And pissing me off just adds fuel to the fire. Y’all really shouldn’t have done that. You’re a publicist, you should know this already: don’t piss off the press. Remember, I have the pen, so I always get the last word. :)

Still I rise - Julia Beverly, jb@ozonemag.com