Lessons from Fergie

She’s just like that book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," only with some lovely lady lumps and a decidedly more prominent hump hump.

Ah, the wondrous Fergie. As a top-selling solo artist and member of the Black Eyed Peas, she’s among the most edifying of pop stars.

Yeah, she may have once sung on a song delicately titled "Let’s Get Retarded," but in actuality, Fergie is a fount of wisdom.

In honor of her stop at the Mandalay Bay Events Center on Saturday, behold some of the crucial life lessons that we can all learn from The Dutchess:


It’s no secret that Fergie used to get higher than Godzilla’s package.

In an article in Blender, she confessed that she used to tweak so hard on crystal meth that she’d engage in lengthy conversations with her hamster.

Due to some predictably ace reporting, we actually got a transcript of one of said chats:

Fergie: I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I’m torn between my two passions: singing and endocrinology. I mean, I’m down with both dope beats and metabolic disorders.

Hamster: (Looks around blankly. Rolls in some cedar chips.)

Fergie: I hear what you’re saying. It’s hard to diagnose thyroid conditions in hot pants. By the way, what’s a thy-roid? Isn’t that something you take to make your legs more muscular?

Hamster: (Licks himself. Paws at a carrot nub.)

Fergie: True, true, but I fail to see how the potential reformation of Kurdistan as a sovereign nation pertains to this conversation.

Hamster: (Contemplates getting on his hamster wheel. Yawns.)

Fergie: C’mon, you know I don’t speak Farsi!

Hamster: (Sniffs the air. Takes a nap.)

Fergie: What? I should join a radio-friendly rap troupe named after a popular legume indigenous to Africa? Right. I’ve heard of some far-out things, but you’re just getting silly.

Now get back to your algebra studies.


Ever inventive, Fergie’s known for her ability to stre-e-e-e-tch the fabric of our lexicon like it was made of Spandex, creating her own words, such as "Fergalicious" and "ri-sick-ulous."

Now there’s a trailblazer for you.

OK, we’ll give it a shot, too. Let’s describe this article with a brand new adjective.

It’s coming from us, so, let’s be honest, there’s a better than average chance that it’s going to be kind of stupid.

And it’s about Fergie, the most stupendous of pop divas.

Stupid + stupendous = stupid-endous.


Mirriam, Webster, your lunch has just been eaten.


We all know that Fergie likes the sauce — seriously, any more Grey Goose vodka, and she’s going to sprout wings and fly south for the winter.

One time, though, she imbibed a bit too much before a gig in San Diego and wet herself onstage.


(Insert your own Black Eyed Pees joke here. Pretty easy, huh? Don’t tell our boss.)

But hey, it’s not like we haven’t been met with the same fate numerous times — we like to call such occasions "Saturday night."


Even though she’s a millionaire who could eat at really fancy places every night — hello, Olive Garden — Fergie still professes to be a fast food connoisseur, fond of eats greasier than your average crankshaft.

If it was us, and we had that kind of jack, we’d feast on nothing but bald eagles and baby otters.

But not Fergie, she’s no hoity-toity snob.

This shows us that, despite her fame, she’s still a grounded, down-to-earth person — a grounded, down-to-earth person with a digestive tract that has to put up with even more crap than you have these past few minutes, dear reader.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or (702) 383-0476.

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