Rashida Jones forgot she was black.

She randomly called for John Travolta to come out of the closet. She must’ve forgotten how tenuous her role in Hollywood was. She might be lite-brite-almost-white and semi-successfully locking down all these roles clearly written for white women who listen to Regina Spektor…but she is still a colored lady. Watch. She’s gonna be playing a maid in her next movie.

Rashida and co-star Will McCormack are on the trail right now, promoting some movie I haven’t even seen a trailer for because I don’t really go to the movies in the summer. It’s always things with explosions and/or tiddies. Or something by Tyler Perry. Or some chick flick where one of the main characters dies at the end.

Anyway.

They gave a little interview to Spinning Platters and the topic turned to Frank Ocean:

How’s the Frank Ocean obsession coming along?

Jones: It’s there. It’s real and it’s there. We just missed him the other day in DC while we were there for press. I just love him. He is so great.

McCormack: There needs to be, like, a professional athlete that comes out.

Jones: And a movie star! It’s time.

McCormack: Yeah, like a big one.

Jones: A movie star. Like, John Travolta? Come out! Come on. How many masseurs have to come forward? Let’s do this!

(source)

I’m not sure how much Rashida had to drink before that interview, but I hope she remembers and uses that as a mental marker to never drink that much again. There are so many gay folk she could’ve called out. But she chose John Scientologist Posterchild Travola. Xenu cannot be happy with her right now.

Doesn’t John sue people? I feel like he sues people whenever gay things come out. That old queen is not about to let some *woman* throw around gay accusations like that. You know he hates women anyway. Have you seen how he kisses his wife? Just dry and awkward. I’ve seen more passion at a sawdust convention.

Poor Rashida. Somebody needs to tell her that just because all of her roles are racially ambiguous doesn’t automatically mean nobody sees your blackness. You still get ashy. Your daddy had to sit at the back of the bus just like mine. And your name is Rashida, okay? Case closed. You let Gwyneth Paltrow throw all the gay accusations out there. She’s just hanging out with an apple and writing cookbooks anyway.