My mother loves Antoine more than me.

So you know how my mom is gangsta, right?
(If you don't, check out the post on her love of Ludacris)
Well, clearly I thought Antoine Dodson (my gay icon) would appeal to her greatly, and when she came over Tuesday and told me she'd never heard of it, I rushed to bring my laptop to her. By the end of the night, she was walking up to bed singing "run and tell dat, run and tell dat, homeboy...."
She was hooked on the Dodson!

I've never thought my mother and I had much in common, but it would seem the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. This morning, I was awoken by a phone call from madukes. I was still groggy and didn't pick up, but she's not a quitter--her missed call was quickly followed by a text message. It read:
"Turn 2 channel 4 run tell dat"

Oh god, did my mother learn how to text from one of her teen-mom clients in the family court? Of course, much in the way she can decipher my grandmother's ramblings, I knew immediately what she meant--Antoine Dodson was on The Today Show.
I laughed and rolled over, marveling at how quickly I created a monster.

When I rolled in to work at 9:05 (child, I am so done with this place) my phone was already ringing--it was madukes! I had to at least try to look productive, so I let it go to voicemail. Later, I heard the following message:

"Hey, it's me. Did you get my text this morning? Antoine was on the Today Show this morning, and he was looking good. I guess he was just caught out on a bad hair day when they tried to rape his sister, cause he had his blow out working and, like, a two-layer shag happening. And he was very articulate. He's gonna have a reality show in a minute, I swear... So, okay, that's all. I just wanted to run tell dat [laughs]. Love you. Bye." *click*

I swear to god, this woman never ceases to surprise me. She loves Luda, she's down with Antoine, and she totally said he was articulate in a really shocked tone of voice. Working with abused and neglected kids in family court, madukes knows her own personal Antoines, and I think his story's touched her, like it's touched so many others--including this fool:


THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR!!!
Antoine is taking over people's minds! He's acting as a totem--he's reminding us all to hide yo' husbands, cause they rapin' e'erybody out there!!

I wonder if this is my mom's arm. I wouldnt' put it past her, seeing as I came home from a college visit my junior year of high school to find that she shaved her head, and came home during winter break my sophomore year to see she'd gotten a tattoo on her shoulder. Homegirl is super random.

No, that forearm's not hers--it's way too beefy and light. Whew!

Addictions Uncovered

Here's an email I just got from my mother today:

can i drink the rest of the jim beam that was in your room? it's straight jim with nothing else in there, right?

I don't know what makes me more uncomfortable: my mother cleaning my room; her finding Jim Beam in there; or her asking to drink it.

And, to be honest, I can't even remember if there's anything else in it. I do tend to pre-mix.

My response:

"hahahhahah1 wqhat? jim beam in my room? um, yeah."

You can tell by the typos that I am so embarrassed, I could just die.

Do you think this email is some sort of reverse psycholoogoogoly* she's trying to work on me across the international date line? How can she make me feel ashamed when I'm on the other side of the world?

Damn her, it's working!




*not a word.

The Tale of a Boy and His Horse

I saw him, guys.
I saw Harry Potter live and in the flesh last night.

From row B in the orchestra, the boy who lived was practically in my lap. Here's the breakdown:

For those of you who don't know, Equus is a straight play written by Peter Shaffer in 1973, based on a true story of a young boy who blinded six horses--well, the incident itself is true, but Shaffer went on to create a portrait of a young person who would do such a thing. Told through the narration of the boy's psychiatrist, we jump back and forth through time as we piece together what could drive him to be so cray.

HP is the first onstage, and he is SHIRTLESS. I knew this was going to be good--although I was already in hopes when, before the lights dimmed, my mother leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, "We're gonna see Daniel Radcliffe's balls."

I've never head my mom say "balls." This is what bonding is all about.

Anyway, the first thing I noticed were the crazy connections between Equus and the HP story.
1. The psychiatrist is played by Richard Griffiths--the very actor who plays UNCLE VERNON in the HP films!!! OH EM GEE!
2. With HP's nudity being a major selling point, his wand is just as vital in the stories as it is in this play.
3. At one point in the play, Alan Strang (HP's character) is reliving the moment leading up to his terrifying act, and he says, "He was in the way!"
"Who?" says Uncle Vernon.
"You know who!!!!" Alan screams.
Um, if that's not Voldemort, I don't know who is.

The character of Alan Strang is a troubled boy with a sexual fascination/love for horses. In the play, 6 male actors who wear large metal horse heads represent the creatures. When Alan is with a horse, he strokes their chest and rubs his hands all over their body, which in turn gave the blacktress a sexual eruption! Note to self: be willing to play a non-speaking role in a Broadway show, on the off chance that it will entail being stroked by Daniel Radcliffe.

When he remembers a moment of riding a horse, Harry/Alan is orgasmic as the animal gallops. He speaks aloud to the therapist, describing the feeling of preparing the animal for a ride.
"No saddle?" the therapist notes.
"Never," Harry answers seductively.
Holla! HP likes to ride bareback!

From my close vantage point, I can tell you that Harry is quite petite, probably 5'6" tops, and is built like a soccer player--strong, compact legs and a little torso. GOD, this is so frustrating!! How are we supposed to have a mixie master race if he's going to be height deficient?!

He also had facial hair--a sort of chin strap that did not do him justice. I can't really handle his attempt at aging. Being the Brit that he is, he is obvi pasty pale (all parts of him, my friends), I could see a little rash on his upper arm--do you think he's been in communal showers lately?

And, of course, the information you all want:
the peen.

All I can say is this: While Harry was dynamic and mesmerizing on stage, I believe his penis must have had a case of stage fright.

Seriously, it was tiny.
I know the theater was a bit chilly, so my immediate thought was, "Okay, Sojourner, it's just shrinkage. He's freezing. It's okay."
But then, like, as I looked at it more and more, I realized that it was just mini.
And then my heart died a little.
I'm sure any men reading this will be offended and hate me, since penis size is such a sensitive subject. But, like, really, size isn't a make-or-break attribute. However, when you've dreamed of a boy wizard--nay, the BOY WHO LIVED--you want him to LIVE up to your (s)expectations!

After the show, my mother and I were on the train reading our programs. Suddenly she says, "See what good self-esteem men have? That's why women need to stop hating their bodies. Harry did not even need to take off his drawers."

Oooooh, third-degree burn, mom.

But she was kinda right.

Oh Happy Day!!

In T minus 2.5 hours, I will be in the 3rd row orchestra of the Broadway play "Equus."
Or, as I like to call it, "Harry Potter Penis."

I don't think I could be more excited.
Wait, does that make me a pedophile? Don't answer that.

I'm going to see the show with my mother, because she's really into bonding before I leave (one week left--aaaahhh!). However, we usually go see musicals since we love a good spectacle. Although we've been talking about seeing Wicked for ages, I just felt it was behoovy of me to see the nude frame of the only man I'll ever love.

The play is a bit strange and involves horses, bestiality, and psychotherapy. I've already been sent several links to blurry camera-phone pictures of Mr. Potter's magic wand, but they do not do the boy wizard justice.

My mother is a bit put off by my interest in HP's...P. How does it make you feel? I think was gets her the most is that I refuse to call him by his real name. She says, "It's as though you can't separate Daniel Radcliffe from the movie character. They aren't the same."

"Um, YOU'RE not the same, lady!"

Sometimes I'm not very clever.

I'll be sure to provide a detailed synopsis and play by play of...the play--and Harry's um, major prop first thing tomorrow.




OH MY GOD. LOOK AT THAT BANGIN' BOD. I WILL GET TO SEE HIM WITHOUT PANTS.