I am Kevin Bacon.

These recent months of travel have further solidified what I already knew to be true: the world is getting smaller and smaller by the day. With Facebook taking over the world, and people twittering and flitting about, maintaining relationships is easier than ever before.

It also makes it damn near impossible to erase someone from your memory. I've found that the people I want to keep in touch with seem to not understand how to respond to emails and don't want to use skype (::cough::REDHEAD::cough::), but the dude you drunk pashed a month ago conveniently remembers your last name, how to spell it, and makes sure to get enough internet time to friend you on the ol' facebook.

I was first caught off guard a week ago, when I got a friend request from the 21-year-old Canadian I met in Darwin. You know, the one I made out with simply because I was bored and wanted to get the Weasley twin out of my system (it didn't work). He was a nice enough fellow, but there was no point in getting attached, and there didn't seem to be much going on upstairs, so I walked away with no dramas, and expected him to disappear into the ether. He'd asked for my last name and plugged it into his mate's phone, but what are the odds that a barely legal random you'd interacted with for a total of 4 hours would actually follow through?

Apparently, quite high. I believe his first wall post was: "hey, didn't think i'd ever find u, ty took your last name out of the phone, dumb ass. but then i remember u did comedy and i u tubed you, funny story. where are u now?"

The internet will be the death of me!!! I keep forgetting that in some circles, telling someone you're a "blacktress" is quite memorable--especially when that person is from Saskatchewan.

Just when I was done marveling at the spinning tea cups that are our small world, I was dealt another shocking blow of connections this very morning. Here's the go:
As you know, I was in St. Croix last week and met a random--the one who looked like Duane 'The Rock' Johnson. Last night I put up a few photos on f-book--you know, to incite jealousy in friends. In the background of a few of these photos was The Rock. This morning I get the following message:

Hi Blacktress

I'm a friend of one of your friends, and when she asked me to view your comedy video in AUS I added you as a friend. Just happened to open my FB home page and in your vacation pics saw a picture of my brother THE ROCK--he lives and works in St. Croix.. hes visiting NY now, just had a laugh about how small the world is. When he gets back from visiting friends I'll have to tell him. He'll laugh.

Hope you enjoyed your vacation! - Belle

Oh. my. god. I am the black female Kevin Bacon.

So, I immediately logged on to facebook (a nasty habit that began when I living on the other side of the world), and Belle happens to be online. We immediately start chatting, and I tell her about the drunk kiss and the fact that her bro was blowing up my celly this weekend, even asking to come to the stand-up show I had Saturday night. I am hesitant to tell her that he seems like a total toolbox and completely not good for me....until she brings it up.
Our convo went something like this:

Belle: Oh my god, this is too funny. I wish I could tell [our mutual friend] right now. I'm always telling her what a loser my brother is.
Me: hahahhaa, oh no! oh sweet jesus, i am starting off my nyc single life on the wrong foot.
Belle: Seriously. They should put up flyers around St. Croix, "do not kiss this man."
Me: I will do it. I will return to Pirate Island and warn other wenches.

[later, after more man-related banter, including her venting about her bro, I break out the TRUTH]

Me: Your brother is--no offense, I say this as an astute woman of color and writer who has kissed him on the mouth--a selfish man-boy who thinks of no one but himself.
Belle: you are my new best friend, lol.
Because it takes people years to see that about him.

Okay, guys, let's break this down: when a dude's own sister not only tells you he sucks, but then allows you to talk shit about him, you know you've dodged a bullet. I mean, this is out of control.
But also wonderful.
I'm going to start putting up pics of every potential suitor on my facebook page nad see which of my internet friends knows the clown. I'm sure one of them is bound to have some inside information, corroborating or debunking my beliefs. So far, I'm glad I trusted my gut and didn't return The Rock's phone calls. If he can't even be nice enough to his sister so that she at least lies for him, then you know he wasn't going to bring a damn thing to the blacktress' potluck.

Gross Moments

Oh my god.

I think I work in a crack den.

I went to the bathroom after having my mid-afternoon Oreo* cookies and milk and saw a GIANT COCKROACH.

It was huge! I swear, I thought I heard it talk.

I was in the individual/handicapped/differently abled bathroom and almost screamed in horror. The cockroach was clearly startled by my presence, and started to zoom around the room. I thought I was trapped until I remembered to turn the handle-- much like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park (they're thinking!!!!).

I left the stall and had to use the larger ladies room, which is very difficult for me, as I hate relieving myself publicly. Luckily, it was just a onesy, so I hightailed it out of there pretty quick.

Once I calmed down, I started to think of "Flavor of Love," cause I've always thought Flava Flav looks like a cockroach. LOOK:

EWWWW.... He is so terrifying. I think the flavor of his love is something nasty, like... urine.
When the world comes to an end, only Flava will survive.

Anyway, that, coupled with the recent consumption of Oreos had me thinking about how badly I want to be on that show. You know how he gives each girl a demeaning nickname? I think mine would be something ridiculous like "Brainy Bourgie," cause I can read, string coherent sentences together, and will not relieve myself publicly like many of them are wont to do.

I can hear him now in the confessional:
"Oh yeah, I'm feeling Brainy Bourgie, cause she classy. She always be recoilin' when I come close-- that sh** be sexy. Oh yeah, she makin' it to the next round. We could have some smarty-art babies, little Urkels runnin' around."

I would totally use my chance in the spotlight to call the truth left and right on that show. I'd show up with Toni Morrison books, GED exams, and get those sad women on the right track. I know their only aspiration is to be a video ho, but they should at the very least be able to count their earnings and tally up a bill.



*for the longest time I was called an Oreo due to my tendency to "talk White." It took me years before I'd put one of those delicious treats to my lips. By the way, I don't talk White, I talk right!