The Last Unicorn

It's Wednesday, and I leave the fair island of St. Croix tomorrow. It's been quite an adventure.
I anticipated quiet nights, but instead got Coors Lights.
I thought my disinterest in the male gender would emanate from me like a stinky pheromone, but instead I got hit on by a frat boy who resembled Duane 'The Rock' Johnson.

Old habits die hard.

However, I did discover a long-lost species of man that I thought had died. This is unsurprising, as many geologists, anthropologists, and mixologists discover species previously thought to be extinct when journeying to isolated islands. This man is no exception.

During my visit, the younger sister of KWalsh reconnected with an old flame from years ago, and came to us bitter old broads for advice.
"I don't really know what I want to do," she sighed, mildly confused.
"Well, what's his deal?" I asked, hoping the back story would enable me to give excellent advice.
"He was the drummer from last night," she reminded me. "He also teaches swimming to little kids. We have a great friendship, he's very honest and open, so I think it'll be drama-free, either way."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the phone, lady. You're telling me you've got a man who is creative, works with children, and expresses his emotions in an open manner, and you don't know what you want to do??

"Lock that shit down, girl!!!" I exclaimed.
This young, wide-eyed maiden did not know that what she had on her hands: the male equivalent of a unicorn. She was actually this close to holding on to something we'd all heard about, but thought wasn't actually real.
Until now.



"That bitch is a fucking unicorn," I explained to my young friend, who was still uncertain.
I mean I'd be proposing to the man within 3 weeks! (In fact, I've learned from certain redheads that failure to lock it down any sooner will result in him dating someone else and acting like you're a useless step-child of a woman.)

I can't remember the last time someone who possessed all those qualities made himself known to me in a sexy way, and actually stayed awesome after there was some P-in-V action. I'm about to make a documentary about this random and sell it to NatGeo (love that they abbreviate it--they're hip with the young people). Can you imagine the product tie-ins?
Unicorn Condoms (for his horn)
Uni-candy-Corns (Halloween fun!)
The possibilities are endless.

Speaking of unicorns and awesomeness, how effin' amped are you for Huge Jacked Man's new movie?! I am going to be in there like swimwear at 10:45am on Friday morning!! My need to see the movie opening day coupled with my dislike of large crowds, children, and talking during movies, requires I see it bright and early on the matinee tip.
I am totally gonna get prego at the end of it, I just know it.

Off Into the Outback

Blacktress' Log, Star date 7 March 2009.

I am in my room in Lilyfield and it's mostly packed. The two large suitcases I arrived with are filled to the brim, and my third excess bag has books and Buffy DVDs, and some shoes. I feel like I did the last couple days of college, when your parents take your stuff, but you still stick around for Senior Week in hopes of making out with your crush from Intro Psych.

Tomorrow at 6:30am, I begin a Sojourn unlike any other that Sojourner has seen. For the next 5 weeks I will explore this sunburnt country in all its glory. I will visit a glacier in New Zealand, sleep under the stars in the outback, and do all of this while carrying all my necessities in a backpack.

I am becoming a BLACKpacker.

My fear is palpable.

I've never just up and gone, and my lack of physical fitness makes carrying 20 pounds on my back as I trek a bit of a worry. I just feel like I'll be wearing a large sign that says "swindle and mug me, good sir"--and I'll end up with a herniated disk.

But this is what I wanted to do. I am dying to see the country, get out of Sydney, and really explore. And I'm not doing the typical backpacker route, which is up the East Coast all the way to Cairns, enjoying 6 weeks of beaches and booze. No, no--the blacktress is going into the middle, into the Northern Territory. Where the sand is red, the roads are empty, and the animals are deadly.

I am so frickin' nervous and excited!!!

I will start in Adelaide, the capital city in South Australia, where I'll chill for 3 days seeing the sights. Everyone says Adelaide is boring and that 3 days is too long, but one of those days will involve a winery tour in the Barossa Valley--you know how I love my wine! I also have an acquaintance there who will gladly show me some things, so that should take the edge off as well.
From Adelaide, I hop on a 6-day/5-night bus tour that will take me into the Northern Territory. Being the outback and all, travel is expensive and difficult, and driving is the only way to get around. Considering I'm a New Yorker who can't really drive, and certainly can't handle the wrong side of the road and 90-degree weather in a beat-up truck, this bus tour was the perfect way to see everything and be safe. We stop at Coober Pedy, a town that's underground because it's so damn hot in the desert (I wonder if it has an underground railroad?). It's also the opal capital of the world, and my mom has already asked that I bring her back something "unique."

From there we continue up north, stopping at all the major sights--Uluru, Kings Canyon, the Olgas. All this lovely nature-y stuff that I would never be able to get to or see on my own. I'll even be CAMPING, guys!! AAHHHH!! Under the outback stars!!
Yes, I bought bug spray.

I spend a couple days in Alice Springs, where the bus lands. I'm excited to see actual Aboriginals and learn some things about their culture in land they inhabit. From there I'll fly to Darwin, at the very very top of the Northern Territory, where it's the wet season and it'll be 90 degress with humidity when it's not pouring rain. They also have jellyfish warnings, so going into the ocean is not advised. YAY!!!

I plan to wrestle a crocodile while I'm there.

From there I'll fly over to Cape Tribulation, on the Great Barrier Reef. I will snorkel in an attempt to find Nemo.

From there I fly to Wellington, NZ, where my hunt for Bret and Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords will begin. I will also go on a Lord of the Rings tour unironically, and learn to speak Elvish.

For you visual folks, here's the route:




After 2 weeks in NZ, I will return to Sydney for a few days, before hopping on a Qantas flight back to NYC.

Yes, people. The blacktress is coming BACK(tress)!

So, this may be my last post for a little while--I'm going to be broke-ass, and paying $3-8 bucks for internet doesn't seem sensible. I'll try to find public libraries and keep everyone abreast, but don't be angry if it's few and far between. Most likely I will write a fuck-ton while I'm on the road and then put it all up when I get back. I'll try to take tons of pictures because I'm sure most of you will simply be amused to see me wearing a huge backpack. The photos will mostly be of landscapes, though, seeing as I'll be wearing the same clothes over and over, and end up looking a hot mess.

Wish me luck, and don't hesitate to email or comment. I'll need to know I'm not alone as I begin this journey.

xoxo,
Sojo

I DEMAND you come back, Dexter!

So, as you know, I’ve been jilted, once again, by a man. Although crazy artists do occasionally provide the boost needed during the work day, I find I need something stronger to really handle my emotional scandal once I’m away from the distractions of the plantation. Oftentimes this is some sort of documentary on Discovery Health, where I can watch everyday people suffer unspeakable tragedies and display the triumph of the human spirit.

I realized the effect these documentaries had on me many moons ago, when I was watching the special “I Eat 30,000 Calories a Day,” which followed 3 morbidly obese people as they consumed more food than it seemed humanly possible. Each segment reached its crescendo when the omniscient director would place all the food the person ate in a given day on one table, so they could really see how much they were taking in.
“I guess do eat a lot.” Said one British woman matter-of-factly.
Yes. Yes, you do.

Lately, Discovery Health hasn’t been doing it for me, and last weekend I needed a fix to get through the dark times.

That’s when I discovered the National Geographic Channel—or “Nat Geo” as they like to call it—where they aren’t afraid to go to the far reaches of the third world and beyond to bring you images of terrifying and captivating deformities. These tales of genetic anomalies are most effective for silencing my tears, for nothing really helps you put petty crap in perspective like seeing an Indian girl who was born with 8 limbs (I HEART LAKSHMI).

I learned the story of Lakshmi last Sunday night, when I was only able to fall asleep after watching “The Girl With 8 Limbs,” followed by “The Science of Dwarfism,” and then “The Science of Gigantism.” (Watching the gigantism doc actually made me feel somewhat better, as I realized it was possible for a glass of milk to be too tall.) As I stared at the television, transfixed, I felt a spark of hope as the Indian doctors took on this groundbreaking surgery. When Lakshmi survived—with only 4 LIMBS—I knew that all was right in the world, even if I was destined to die alone.

The magical effect of this programming is potent, but not long-lasting, and over the last two days, I’ve been in need of another hit. Unfortunately, every time I check the program listings, it’s just stuff about “cooking light” and “people who get kidnapped while vacationing overseas”—bor-ing! I quickly changed the channel to Showtime so I could watch Dexter On Demand. Because, when all else fails, nothing lifts the mood like watching an hour-long drama about a serial killer who makes other serial killers his victims.

I started watching Dexter for the first time about 3 weeks ago, when I stayed in on a sunny Memorial Day and ended up watching 7 episodes in a row. For some reason, getting into the mind of a psychopath was riveting, and that Michael C. Hall is no slouch to look at—even when he’s killing. He really shows the seedy underbelly of everyone, and after a couple of episodes, I kinda start to get where he’s coming from. (Apparently, my therapist thinks this is a “red flag”—to me, it’s a sign of fine screenwriting)

I started season 2 a couple of weeks ago, and came home last night ready to dig back into the show—and take my mind off of things. However, when I went to the On-Demand menu, I was greeted with a site more frightening than the girl with 8 limbs: DEXTER WAS NO LONGER AVAILABLE ON DEMAND.

WTF?!

Um, Showtime, how the f*&% can you tell me I can watch something when I want, but then not let me watch it?! How can you suck me in with your riveting nail-biting drama and then yank it away from me before I can get closure?! How am I supposed to get through this latest rejection without you, Dexter, to tell me all humans are worthless?! HOW?!!!!

Oh god.
How could they both leave me at the same time?!

So, I’m going to go home to night and pray to black Jesus (hair like lamb’s wool!) that there’s some damn good documentary on Nat Geo or D-Health—I don’t know, something about a girl born with a twin inside her liver, a boy with the genetic makeup of a Labrador, or a paraplegic who climbed an ancient Mayan temple. Whatever will remind me that it’s not as bad as I think it is.

Please come back to me, Dex. I need to know how it ends. You're the only man I can trust, because....well, I know that if you didn't like me you'd kill me in a methodical manner. There's no in-between with you.