Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Yes, y'all--I created my own visual aids. These are the lengths I will go to in order to avoid a co-pay in these trying times.
And yes, I called my doctor "K-Cho." We're cool like that.
Unfortunately, my excellent PowerPoint presentation couldn't get me out of living life on life's terms. Doc replied a couple hours later:
Wow, that’s an impressive email with nice illustrations! Unfortunately, hand and wrist pain is much better diagnosed by exam than xray. Plus the xray will be useless without correlation to the exam if an xray is even needed. Most hand/wrist pain don’t require xrays if there hasn’t been any trauma/injury.
And boy, was she right! I went into her office yesterday and a few simple tests revealed De Quervain's tenosynovitis.
"I had a feeling that's what it was based on your description," she said.
"So what you're saying is that my diagrams were an excellent representation of where my pain was and I should perhaps enroll in medical school?"
K-Cho didn't answer, but I'd like to think that's because the answer was obvi.
Apparently this is common among athletes who grip tools (rackets, ski poles, etc) and those who do frequent manual labor, such as hammering. Since I fit into neither of those categories, I can only assume it's because of all the typing and playing Bejeweled on my bootleg phone--or....
"Um, could it be from too much....texting?" I asked tentatively.
Doc looked up knowingly and said, "Could be."
Guys, I have a textually transmitted disease (TTD).
I thought I was careful. I always used T-Mobile protection! My phone is so broke and busted, it's always been tough to text, but I was willing to stick it out because we'd been through so much together. But now it's destroying my ability to pursue my livelihood! How can I hold a microphone with this level of pain?!
I've been prescribed a regimen of RICE, advil, and even rehabilitation exercises--and I am dedicated. I'm not dying, I'm living with DQT--a TTD that will no longer hide in the shadows.
But this means I've gotta lay off the hard stuff (emotional texts) and the soft stuff ("running 10 min late!"). But I've got one of those ergonomic cushions at the office, so I'll try to get in as much blogging as possible while I can!
I miss you. Call me!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I haven't even bothered finding out the name or gender, but I'm already counting down to its 18th birthday. Does that make me creepy? It's the hottest child in the history of the world!
When you try to search "hottest baby ever" in Google, there are no infant photos that can meet the criteria!!! You'll just have to use your brainholes!
Honey, do ju think we should name de bebe 'El Sexo Cruz-Bardem???"
Friday, August 27, 2010
As I look for discounted brassieres to keep my lady lumps supported, I keep toggling back and forth between the VS window, the blog post, and our general email account--that way, if the massa or the overseer comes by, I can quickly look like I'm being useful and not buying undergarments (or looking at porn--these Vicky's girls are soooo sensually posed!).
As I procrastinate, I happen upon the greatest press release this year. Of course, I have to share this with you:
Hi, this is [PR Person] with _____ Media Group.
So many men are fed up with their ‘man boobs’ (‘moobs’). Even women often wish something could be done. The nation will definitely want to hear about this new, quick, and safe procedure, so we would be grateful if you could read the press release below and help us pass this information on. The doctor behind this life-changing procedure has appeared on numerous media outlets. If you are interested in arranging an interview with Dr. Johnson, please contact me directly. Thank you.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Dr. Johnson separates the men from the boys - and the men from the men with ‘moobs’.
Women are not the only ones concerned about cup size anymore. Now men can quickly and safely have their breasts, or ‘moobs,’ reduced. Dr. [weirdo freaking me out] offers a procedure to eliminate extra fat from and tighten the skin of the pectoral area. When the fat is gone, so are the moobs. Minus moobs, men look and feel much better.
[Blacktress' note: The word 'moobs' has appeared 4 times in 6 sentences. I'm uncomfortable. I'm also not clear on how he separates men from boys. Are we talking conjoined twins, or just elaborate hazing rituals for new clients? ]
The strictest diets and exercise regimes cannot conquer all moobs: this procedure can. The old stigma of men seeking cosmetic enhancement is gone. Moob reduction was among the most popular elective surgeries in 2009, says the American Academy of Cosmetic Surgery. Dr. J----- combines VibroLipo (Tickle liposuction) with SmartLipo to effectively combat the most stubborn moobs, also known as gynecomastia. The recovery period is brief - most patients can return to work the next day. They feel better about their bodies just as soon.
My goodness! It would seem that as I sit at my desk, trying to find products to help me tame my stubborn boobs, many of the nation's men are struggling with their own breast issues!! Although I can try to relate, my problems with this press release are manifold. Let me break it down:
- I work at an ART magazine. We in no way advertise or target our product toward men seeking breast-reduction surgery. How on earth did we get on this PR company's mailing list, and why would they think we'd be interested in such a thing?
- Look, I love a good portmanteau as much as the next grammar nerd. It was kinda cute when the press used the term 'brangelina'; it was saccharine when the freakish couple 'TomKat' came on the scene. But it started getting annoying when people called male nannies 'mannies,' and now MOOBS is just out of control. I don't know why any medical professional would want to be affiliated with creating a ridiculous word of this nature. His credibility has instantly been undermined. Imagine swirling your brandy glass at a dinner party while the guy next to you says, "I just saw Dr. Johnson--he's a leading moob specialist."
Um, I have to go....over there.
-I love how the PR guy says "the national will definitely want to hear about this..." Um, I'm not quite so sure about that. The nation? Really? I think there may be more pressing news briefs that warrant national attention.
- "The most stubborn moobs" -- hahahaha!!!
Friday, May 14, 2010
I have done a whole lot of nothing, I tell ya. It’s been hard trying to look busy, yet still find ways to keep me entertained.
The first two days of the week I sat at my desk sneakily grading film exams (you know about my side hustle as a grader for undergrad film at my alma mater, right?), but just felt guilty the whole time, and it stressed me out. Luckily, there was enough ridiculousness in these exams to keep me focused. For instance, take this lovely lad’s analysis of French film theorist Francois Truffaut:
"truffaut wrote an article ragging on the tradition of quality in french cinema post WWI--based on literature, historical, expansive. truffaut says 'BAD!' "
Or this tender lamb’s identification of German filmmaker Rainer Werner Fassbinder:
"he made movies at a rapid pace, due both to his constant circle of collaborators and his high consumption of drugs"
Yep, that’s why, kid. Keep at it.
With very little to do at work, my gchat’s been a-buzz, and Katie Walsh has even managed to get me excited about my college reunion, which is next weekend. Of course, when one’s brain lacks stimulation, it can quickly atrophy. Take, for instance, a question I posed to KWalsh in all seriousness on Wednesday:
Me: is there an electronic facebook? i mean, like, of JUST our class.
i need to go through the archives, see who's hot
KWalsh: electronic facebook-- let me direct you to it
sorry, that’s the funniest thing.
Yes, I really asked if there was an electronic facebook.
Lord knows I shouldn’t even be thinking about who’s hot anyway, now that I’m all Jewboo’d-up. Sometimes I forget about it, cause I’ve been single so long, and always tried to sabotage every relationship I’ve ever been in. But I’m really trying not to be a hot mess with this one, even though sometimes I backslide. Luckily, I make up for my crazy with food. Food and orgasms. Yup, that’s the key to a man’s heart—through his stomach and his penis.
We’re even collaborating in the form of a humorous internet video. We’re like an interracial Jay-Z and Beyonce—or, more appropriately, JEW-Z (I enjoy Jewish puns as much as I love black puns). I’ve slept my way to the top, y’all, and will be playing the role of Rabbi Blowdart in what is surely to be the most insane, gender-bending 5-minute video that vimeo has ever seen.
I have no idea if it’ll be funny, and Jewboo clearly doesn’t understand the seriousness of being a blacktress. When I asked him what I should wear/bring, he said, “Something cute.”
What on earth does that mean?!
When I searched online for “female rabbis” (I’m a method blacktor), however, I didn’t get much of a hint—but I did find out the greatest piece of news ever:
Alysa Stanton is the first black female rabbi!!
Talk about a Challahback girl!!
Seriously, y’all!! This happened last year—how am I so behind?!
She’s at a temple in North Carolina, and of course, the irony of being black rabbi in an all-white congregation in the south isn’t lost on the rabbi.
“God has a sense of humor,” she said.
Oh my god, I love her. I bet we could sit around and eat latkes and talk about being cross-over sensations.
You know, not having much to do actually allows me to get real ish done, like pay my credit card bill and turn the blog into a legit .com! Holla at a commercial entity, y’all!! Now, you can get rid of the “blogspot,” and just click diaryofamadblacktress.com, and get your dose of Sojourner’s Truth! I don’t know why it took me three years to do this—I was so scared I’d need that $10 at some point, I guess. It’s only when you’ve got nothing better to do but stare at your cuticles that you finally take some BLACKtion.
This free time also allows me to do crazy things, like pass Jewboo’s resume on to my boss for a possible paid internship position. At first, I did it as a joke, sort of just trying to help the boo get something (you know a Jewboo without a job is like a day without sunshine!!), but then when I told him, he was actually interested. I then felt compelled to see this process through, as I know finding employment is important to him.
So, he’s through the pipeline….for now. After a bit more of a think on it (which I had tons of time to do….are you seeing a theme here?), I realized nothing would be more awful than Jewboo in my workplace, where I act a fool with my office wife, am grumpy all day, and often show up looking just a two steps above homeless. This would be the kiss of death for our love affair. Even Jay-Z knows he's gotta collabo with A-Keys sometimes, just to keep it fresh.
Anyhoo, I refuse to stress—although I definitely have the time to. I’m cheering myself with the news that I got from the president of the watercolor society this week—I’ve been invited to his home to cover a workshop!
Remember how I told you about my fabulous Friday evening at the watercolor society banquet? Well, it was all I could have hoped for. As the youngest and brownest person in the room, I felt like I’d crashed the AARP yearly social, but everyone was actually quite nice. Drunken geriatrics are hilarious, and the art puns flowed as abundantly as the wine. Some favorites include:
“I thought I got Rose madder, but it was just a pigment of my imagination.”
“Who hasn’t ever just gotten lazy and went for the cheap Hooker’s—Hooker’s green, I mean!!”
These are only funny if you know paints…and if you’re 70.
I sat at the cool kid’s table, with the society president, my boss, and the jurors. As the prez and I talked, he pointed across the table to a man who was cracking jokes. “That’s my partner. He’s a diva.”
Yes, folks. I was at a table with not one, not two, but THREE retirement-aged homosexuals.
BEST. NIGHT. EVER.
Of course, the idea of going to the home of two of these gentlemen and talking paints would be nothing short of magical—and to get paid for it, no less!!
What should I wear? It won’t be until July, so we have time to plan.
Maybe I’ll spend the rest of the day doing that.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tonight after work is sure to be blogworthy, as I’ll be attending an awards dinner for a watercolor organization. Yes, a watercolor painting organization. For those of you who don’t know, watercolor is the painting medium that’s long been dominated by the Floridian retiree. This is my magazine's target demographic, and as the editor of the mag, it’s now my responsibility to “network with the community.” This means attending events where I’m the only brown person, and the youngest attendee by at least 35 years.
It’s kind of amazing.
After attending the opening-night show three weeks ago, I then went to an artist demonstration, where a rather fatigued old woman leaned over to me and provided color commentary throughout the demo. Her hair was a kind of orange that could only come from a box, and her lipstick was bright as a ripe mango.
I loved her—even when she talked awkwardly loudly.
Throughout the demo, cell phones rang loudly and repeatedly, as the elderly fumbled to find where the noise was coming from, then struggled to silence it. As the artist explained her materials, she mentioned her drawing tool—a negro pencil!! The blacktress bristled, and looked around and realized there were no other negroes around, so no one else seemed to care.
NEGRO PENCIL, Y’ALL!! WTF?!
Tonight’s dinner is sure to be a doozy, seeing as I received a call from one of the planners last week, asking “how you’d like to be introduced….we’ll be announcing attendees of note.” Oh my god, I’m now imagining a debutante-ball-style announcement, with me walking down a center aisle as elderly members of Caucasia provide golf claps.
Guys, I’d like you to know a few things about me:
-I don’t really like my job
(sidebar: just as I was typing the previous sentence, my boss came over to me to give me comments on my editor’s note for the next issue. Awkward Town, population ME!)
-I know very little about art, and even less about watercolor
-I’m a blacktress man, not a watercolorist (said in the voice of Doctor McCoy from Star Trek)
The amount of awkward small talk taking place tonight will be through the roof. It'll be Totes cuckoo bananas. I will try to live tweet it if I can.
How are you doing?
Friday, April 16, 2010
I've hit a new low in my levels of procrastination. I am about to spend the last hour of work watching this week's ep of "16 and Pregnant" online.
Of course, I will live-blog every moment. Let's do this.
4:35 - Lizzi's from Smithfield, "A small conservative town on the coast of Virginia." Her parents are divorced and she lives with mom, but dad's still on the scene.
"Skylar works at a thrift store and is studying to become a professional glass blower." - Way to pick a winner, sis.
"I love playing in the marching band.... maybe one day I can play in the Virginia Orchestra."
September - 5 Months Pregnant.
- Lizzie dropped out of school and is now homeschooled.
- "I live with my mom and after the initial shock, she's really excited about being a grandma" - Wow! We've got a mother who actually doesn't want to strangle her child. I guess I should be happy, but I'm kinda worried. What sort of dreams did you have for your kid if her high school pregnancy barely raises your blood pressure?
- Luckily, the dad has some sense (um, paging Dr. Phil, I think I know why these two got divorced.) "I thought you were on some kind of contraception," he says, like a rational human being who expected more for his child.
Mom explains: "She was until it came time to have the yearly check up, but she refused to go because she didn't want to have the gynecological exam." - What?! You'll let some dude who works at a thrift store diddle your fiddle, but you won't let a medical professional check under the hood?! You gotta make sure the brakes are working before you take the car for a drive, girl!!!
"I wanted four kids - I'm just going to space them out more now."
"I hope bring pregnant doesn't get in the way of my dreams, cause I've got a lot of plans." - Oh, Lizzie, boo bear, didn't you see season 1?
- Skylar's moving in with Lizzie and her mom and they're turning the spare room into a nursery. - Ooh--look--unlike Leah from last week, they have paint!
(oh god, what's happening to my priorities? I think this show has skewed my perceptions of what constitutes success and happiness.)
- "Are you gonna teach our kid glass blowing?" Way to lift up the next generation, kids.
- "I don't miss public school that much, except I miss my band friends." She and her band homegirl go get pedicures--wow, they are both really blonde and bright-eyed. I guess in Virginia, band girls aren't geeks
Lizzie to her friend: "Do you think I'm ready to be a mom?"
- "Of course!"
Why would her friend lie to her like that? Maybe it's nail polish fumes.
4:43 - They're having a girl, and they're naming her summer! Oh, so sweet. I hope they don't spell it some fucked up way like the rest of the girls. Something cray-cray like, "Somemur"
4:44 - Lizzie's latest delusion: "Everyone thinks I'm going to have to give something up. I'm sure I can play in the Viginia orchestra and still be a mom."
[Oh, I love watching online--no commercial. But it's harder to keep up!]
4:45 - 25 Weeks Pregnant
They go pumpkin picking. "I'm just worried about the money cause you're the only one that's working." - Homeboy works part-time at the thrift store, what did you expect?!
Lizzie practices her flute in her bedroom at home. Cut to Skylar playing terrifying war-like paintball in the Virginia fields.
This is a match made in heaven.
4:46 - Skylar tells his boys he's thinking of proposing to Lizzie! What?! They've been together 8 months. Good lord, why do they feel the need to make one problem even worst?
4:47 - Jessica and Jackie come by in their homecoming dresses. She shows them the dress she would have worn if she wasn't knocked up.
"Don't get pregnant," Lizzie yells after them. HAHA!! Good girl.
"Since I'm not a public school student, I'm missing out on the harvest parade." - Wow, I love how in VA, public school is the total opposite of the way it is in other places --it actually OPENS UP doors. Without public school, you've got nothing.
"I guess parades aren't as fun when you're standing on the sidelines....it really sucked not marching with the band in the parade yesterday."
When were parades ever fun? I mean, besides Gay Pride.
4:49 - Skylar goes to Dad Rick's house to ask for Lizzie's hand in marriage.
"I'm in no hurry for you guys to get married. I'd hate to feel that you think that you have to get married just because you have a child."
I love Rick!!! He is bringing TRUTH to the table. He is totally making me rethink my hatred of men with mustaches. Perhaps his facial hair is where he keeps his wisdom.
4:50 - December, 30 Weeks Pregnant
- Lizzie has no eyebrows, and it's making me uncomfortable.
- "I knew we'd be together, cause I wanted you, and I got you, and I get what I want."
Um, Okay, Lizzie, you're so cool and badass.....and throwing away your LIFE!!!!!
- Skylar's going with his dad to pick up a ring--in a pawn shop, it seems. How can you pick up a ring in a place with guitars on one wall and guns on the other?
- Skylar is taking Lizzie out to dinner at her favorite restaurant - CRAB SHACK!!!!
HIS IS AMAZING.
- I love how their conversations just consist of asking each other questions about how they felt, will feel, and feel now. "Did you think we'd be together this long?"
4:53 - AAAHHHH, Skylar is getting down on one knee!!! He proposed.
"Yes" [she laughs] "You make me giggle."
Um, really? She's such a
4:54 - Lizzie's with her friends getting food. There's one random black boy with 5 white girls. I really hope he's the group gay.
4:55 - "I'm excited because I have the perfect boy, and the perfect ring, and I can't wait to have the perfect baby."
Ew, she's soooooo silly. She thinks love is all sunshine and flowers. She doesn't have a high school education, he probably earns $10/hour, and she has no job prospects and will live with her mother for the rest of her life. Ok, I'm glad she's up-beat and doesn't hate herself, but I do not watch this show to get behind teen pregnancy, people. I'm gonna need her to change her tune real quick.
4:57 - "I never though I'd be wearing an engagement ring at 17--I thought it'd just be my belly ring." - I can't believe this is real.
She inserts the belly ring that just arrived. Inserts it into the button of her pregnant belly. Nothing about this is cute.
4:58 - BABY SHOWER AT SKYLAR'S HOUSE!!!
They get some pretty cool swag. This may be kinda classy.
Oh, wait, they broke out a cake with photos of Lizzie and Skylar as babies. I retract that previous statement.
4:59 - Lizzie's dad makes an announcement. Lizzie has graduated home school and is getting her diploma!
She doesn't seem to be very excited.
5:00 - Uh-oh, some texts are going around saying that Skylar cheated on Lizzie with Krista!
Oh my god, why is every single girl in this town blonde? Like, platinum, "Children of the Corn" type of blonde.
5:01 - Lizzie confronts Skylar about it, and he comes clean!
- "I made a mistake a little while ago...."
OH SNAP!!! TRUTH COMES OUT!
- "It makes me feel stupid, and self-conscious, like it's my fault. Like something I did led you to do that." - Um, Lizzie, you're interpreting this all wrong. You're not stupid for not knowing your man cheated on you. You're stupid for not going to the gyno for your yearly exam so you could get more birth control.
5:10 (Okay, I could go home now, but I'm too sucked into this episode. I just had to pause it to say bye to a coworker, and I realized I should be living a life, but I can't not find out how Lizzie and Skylar handle his infidelity)
- January, 35 Weeks Pregnant
Skylar's out of the house. "I took all his stuff and put it in a box. I don't know, my room got de-Skylar-ized." Hello, grammar humor--someone's graduated home school!!
- "To keep my mind off Skylar, I've been focusing on college...I've decided to put my dreams of playing in the orchestra on hold to go for a stable job as an ultrasound technician."
- She goes to a college counselor to find out what she'll have to do - shit ain't easy!!!
- Now she's willing to give Skylar a second chance -- she knows she can't do this solo (maybe she did watch last week's episode). They're back together, but she's not gonna put her ring back on.
5:15 - 37 Weeks Pregnant - LABOR TIME!
- Lizzie's being relatively calm. It seems like the labor didn't take too long, and Lizzie barely even broke a sweat.
- Now she's breastfeeding. "It's taken an hour, and I haven't been able to eat my food." Um, Lizzie, get used to not being able to do basic things for yourself. "I'm determined to breastfeed, because it's cheaper than formula."
- 2 Days Old - discharged from the hospital!
- 2 Weeks Old. Lizzie's over breastfeeding, and has switched to formula. Way to stick it out, champion!
- They're reeling over the expense of diapers and formula.
5:20 - 3 Weeks Old.
"Tomorrow's my first day back at school and I really need to sleep, but Summer's still not sleeping through the night, which means neither am I." - Um, "still?" She's only 3 weeks old. What on earth did you think would happen?
5:22 - Leah's staring over Summer's crib with her pale skin and jet-black eyeliner. I'm not even a baby, and I'm terrified.
- Aw, Lizzie and Skylar are kinda cute. I love when the teen dads are present.
5:25 - Lizzie's decided to drop out of school. Wow, Summer's not even 4 weeks old. How quickly we flip the script.
5:27 - I love the commercial MTV includes in each episode now: "Teen Pregnancy is 100% preventable. Learn how." Basically, they're saying "These girls are dumb."
5:27 - Lizzie goes to school to drop classes. The registrar tries to persuade her to just put them on hold, or hold off on one. Nope, she won't do it. She's gonna take a 6-week course in medical billing.
5:28 - She goes to tell her Dad, and again, Rick speaks truth and Lizzie CAN'T HANDLE IT!
She's so short-tempered with him, and so smart-assed. I mean, of course, she's a 17-year-old girl who thinks she knows everything, but she's not exactly living the dream and fine on her own. She needs to listen to Rick.
5:30 - Skylar and Lizzie go for a walk, and Lizzie asks him questions about his emotions and tell him what a great dad he is.
Ooooh, wrap up!!
"I had big dreams...but I found out I was pregnant and that dream kind of died...I'm not going to college anymore, I'm not going into music anymore, I'm probably going to be at home longer. It's bummed me out, but then I think of Summer and realize being a mom is better than going out and having fun."
Um, it's not just "having fun," Lizzie - College is learning about yourself, expanding your horizons, and giving yourself the best life you can.
Ugh, okay, at least she's working and her mother isn't trying to cut her, and her baby daddy knows how to change a diaper.
How on earth did procrastinating end up with me staying at work after 5:30 on a Friday? It seems I may not have been as clever as I thought.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
So, my girl KWalsh always has her finger on the pulse of celebrity culture. This is why I was not surprised to receive an IM from her, alerting me to a new book written by everyone’s favorite girl next door, Jennifer Love Hewitt.
It’s called “I Shot Cupid: My name is Jennifer Love Hewitt and I’m a Love-aholic.”
I kid you not.
Um, where’s my book deal? Do I have to know what you did twelve summers ago and date a bunch of lame dudes? I’ve clearly done both of those things throughout my life.
Anyway, I digress.
As you all know I kind of secretly love Jennifer Love Hewitt. She is so fucking fresh-faced and optimistic, and when everyone freaked out because she’s a size 2 and not a 0, she wasn’t having it, which implies that she may have a smidgen of common sense.
Alas, it would seem from some excerpts from her book,that it is I, Sojourner, who can’t handle the truth about J. Love.
I don’t know if I can handle randomness that is Jennifer Love Hewitt’s “pearls of wisdom”—or, should I say, crystals of wisdom. The girl actually suggests you bedazzle your vajayjay.
I believe the word she uses is “vagazzle.”
Again, I kid you not.
Left to process this alone in my cubicle, I couldn’t cope. I clearly had to g-chat KWalsh and get some answers.
Me: She says “a friend” did it. What friend would you have swarovski crystal your vag?
Walsh, would you do that for me?
KWalsh: No, I’m sorry
because I am morally opposed to vajazzling
KWalsh: and I would not enable you
me: hahahhaa, I am also morally opposed
this sounds insane
KWalsh: would you like a nice friction based rash from rubbing your junk on crystals, potential male sex partner?!?!?!
KWalsh: It doesn’t surprise me that JLH vajazzles
vajazzling seems entirely "sex less" to me because it would not enhance sex
It’s like, "I’m a pretty Barbie girl with sparkles on my lady bits, oops don't touch!"
*I think my favorite is number 9 – why on earth should a man have a coat for you? Why a coat? What is going on in her head? I think she was spoiled by Bailey back on Po5.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Gentle readers, I find myself in a bit of a holding pattern. No, it’s not just because I’m back at the same job that drove me cray-cray only a year ago, or because my mother and her latin lover STILL haven’t moved out of the house. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t had sex in a year. Yeah, that’s probably it. All I know is, I’m feeling bored. I don’t know what to do to keep myself busy in a way that’s particularly active. 10 minutes on stage is fine, but what about the other 23 hours and 50 minutes in the day? Okay, take away 7 for sleep, then that’s still 16 hours and 50 minutes. What to do when there are no genetic anomalies to ? Now that Stephenie Meyer has stopped writing Twilight books, I have no tales of repressed, dramatic and traumatic teen love to get me through the day.
What do you suggest, gentle readers? As my number of followers pushes 45, I feel it is behoovy of me to start making out with strangers, getting in trouble, and giving you your money’s worth.
Wait, this blog is free.
Well then, consider my job done here.
PS: AAAAHHH! I just looked at my list of followers and saw that Daddy Dugan is now following a blacktress. For those of you who don’t know (i.e. all of you), Daddy Dugan is this guy I met on Friday night who seemed to be able to handle my truths. We got along swimmingly, and his ex-girlfriend is really pretty, making him much cooler by association. Do you think his following of my blog means that we’re going to be besties and braid each others’ hair and watch TEEN WITCH on Saturday nights? I hope so!
Speaking of TEEN WITCH, I will use any excuse to post a youtube clip from this film. Below, see one of the finest moments in film history (and a nod to my celibacy):
Monday, January 25, 2010
Twilight was on Showtime this weekend, and they made a really big deal out of it. Like, way too big a deal out of it. There were all these interviews and teasers and it's like, Showtime, this movie has been out for a year. Chillax.
I was uncomfortable.
It reminded me of the morning when I passed three middle-aged female members of Caucasia, all wearing the same powder-blue t-shirt underneath windbreakers. Of course, I assumed they were members of a church group or attendees of a scrap-booking convention (I often stereotype before I’ve had my morning caffeine). For some reason, I decided to focus my eyes on their Ts, and was shocked to see the following text:
THE NEW MOON EXPERIENCE
NEW YORK CITY
NOVEMBER 19, 2009
TwilightMoms!!! AAAHHH!!! I thought my viewing of Twilight at 10:30am by myself in Sydney, Australia, was tragic, but this was a whole new level. I mean, I really hope they were moms just chaperoning their kids, but I saw no kids, so I can't make that assumption. And that worries me.
And it also inspires.
I can think of no better way to deal with my boredom than with another installment of DUSK. For those of you out of the fruit loop, here are our previous chapters:
Beaut made it into English class just as the second bell rang. She took her usual seat by the window next to Rachel, and they shared a smile. Rachel was a terrible gossip, but it was worse to get on her bad side, and Beaut couldn’t help but be grateful for her kindness during her first weeks at Spoons High. They were reading Jane Eyre, which Beaut had already read 100 times before, so she quickly zoned out. Her thoughts immediately floated to Gregory, and that time they went to Anchorage for the night. She rode on his back all the way there, and they had an amazing dinner at a seafood restaurant. Well, Gregory just watched her eat, as usual. She remembered how sexy it was when he cracked the crab shell with his bare hands, how patient he was when she chewed. On their way back home they stopped in an Eskimo village, where Edward had some vampire friends (the darkness in the area most of the year enabled them to blend in effortlessly). As she clutched his back on the way home, she knew what she wanted forever to feel like….
Just then, Beaut was snapped out of her daydream by a tapping sound on the window. She looked up and saw Noah standing there with a wide grin on his face. His perfect white teeth gleamed even brighter against his mahogany skin. No, it was caramel. No, it was like mahogany that someone spilled hot caramel on and then licked off sensuously. Yep, that was it.
Noah motioned for her to come outside. Rachel looked at her suspiciously, but Beaut didn’t meet her stare. She knew that no matter what she said, Rachel would tell anyone who would listen that she’d gone off with Noah. She just gathered her bag and raised her hand.
“Yes, Beaut?” Mr. Perry looked almost excited when he called on her. Beaut so rarely spoke in class that it was a treat to know she was even alive, let alone engaged.
“I’m not feeling so well,” she mumbled, trying to sound weak – which wasn’t hard, because she was very delicate, pale, and whiney. “Can I go to the nurse’s office?”
“Sure,” Mr. Perry sighed, disappointed. “Do you need someone to escort you?”
Matt Simpson’s hand immediately went up. He’d had a crush on Beaut since her first day, but they were just friends.
“No, I can make it. Thanks.” Beaut quickly ducked out before Mr. Perry could ask anymore questions.
She raced out of the building and saw Noah on his motorcycle. His long Native American hair glistened in the sunlight. He revved the bike’s engine and Beaut felt a tingling sensation….down there.
She shook it off—they were just friends. Besides, he was ethnic—Gregory may have been undead and feasted on human blood, but they made way more sense together.
Beaut immediately hopped on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around Noah chest as they sped off the campus grounds.
“You’re solid as Barack,” Beaut said, nestling her head into his back.
“I’ve been doing core work,” Noah replied. “Let’s go to The Thrust—I want to show you something.”
The Thrust was the reservation where Noah and the other natives lived. Beaut loved to go there because it was sort of dangerous, but also felt like home. She and Noah would sit by the roaring waves on the rocky shore and just hang out, talk, and occasionally touch each other suggestively. This time was no different, as they sat down close to each other and Noah put his arm around her, trying to get some side-boob action.
“Beaut, I have something to tell you,” Noah said after a few minutes of silence.
“What is it?” Beaut said, trying to be calm. She really hoped he wouldn’t reveal his feelings for her, because their entire friendship rested on Beaut being selfishly oblivious to his emotions.
“Remember that time I told you that story about this guy I know who’s a werewolf?”
“Yeah, your friend Toah?”
“Yeah, well, um, by ‘Toah’ I meant me. Noah.”
Beaut was stunned. How could she have not seen this coming? Noah’s flowing locks, his ripped abs, and not to mention the fact that he sported a partial erection at all times and was a minority – of course he was part animal.
“Say something,” Noah said, softly.
Beaut must have been silent for longer than she realized. She suddenly looked at Noah, as if for the first time really seeing him.
And she wasn’t afraid.
Actually, she was kind of turned on.
Oh my god, what's going to happen next???? Beaut is torn between two men, both mythical and freakishly strong!!! THIS IS SO EXCITING.
Is it lunchtime yet?
Friday, November 13, 2009
A true work of fiction.
Martha was excited. Today was her first day at a new job! But there were tons of papers to fill out, and she always got confused. Like this “computer use agreement.” She didn't see any stipulations about gchat, so it looked fine. “I guess I’ll put my John Hancock right here! “ Martha chuckled to herself as she wrote.
“But what about my W-4? What do they mean, how many dependents do you have? What do you write if you have codependence issues?” Martha wondered to herself. She was pretty needy, and depended on a lot of people for support. But I don’t think she should be taxed for it – after all, it already takes an emotional toll.
This is hard. she thought as she agonized over the deductions sheet. But I have to remind myself that the whole point of working is to have a reason to shower and shave, and force me to be in a place where I can’t sob openly. Martha was right. She had been starting to reek of saline and insecurity, and her 2-am pizza binges were starting to show on her hips. She thought of all the doors her new employment would open for her and smiled as she began the “emergency contact form.”
“I think I’m going to tell them that if there’s an emergency, they should contact my crush, Tommy,” Martha said to the HR representative sitting across from her. “He said he can’t be in a relationship right now, but I’m sure he’d want to know if something bad happens to me. He’d rush to my side, and seeing me near death would definitely change his mind.” Yep, I’m going to put his name down. she thought. She still had his cell and work numbers, even though he never really gave them to her or anything. Maybe she’ll put down his email address, too.
Oooh, Martha just got an email from her new coworker. At desk with her shiny new Mac laptop, she felt like she’d really made it to the big time. He answered my question with a one-liner – he’s clearly an efficient guy, she thought to herself as she hit the reply button. She leaned back to another colleague two desks down.
“Do you think I should write back and say 'thanks!' or just leave it.? I don’t want to clog his inbox. Maybe I should just write back with :).” She drew the smiley face on a post-it to clarify.
Her coworker said nothing.
Or maybe I should wink? she wondered. No, that probably counts as sexual harassment. Oh, workplace politics! ;P
The phone suddenly rang and when she went to pick it up it hit her desk lamp, making a loud clanging sound. Martha looked around to try and catch the eye of one of her coworkers, but no one saw her hit myself on the head with the phone humorously so they probably just think she’s making a lot of noise for no reason. I hope I don’t get fired!
She began to sweat profusely.
Martha’s desk was right across from the bathroom. All day, she could hear coworkers make onesies and twosies and wash their hands. I’d simply die if someone heard me use the bathroom, she thought resolutely. Seriously, I’d pass out and one of my lungs would collapse and I’d choke on my own saliva from embarrassment. I think I’ll try to keep my fluids low during the work day, and if I have to go, I’ll just go across the street to Barnes and Nobles. I mean, those people are strangers, I’ll never have to face them again.
I wonder if I should contact Tommy and tell him I got a job. Maybe I’ll send it from my office email, so he knows I’m not making it up. That’d be good. He’d know I’m really over him. Big and better, onwards and upwards, I always say!
I always say that. Seriously. She reinforced herself.
As the day wound down, Martha began to feel glum. I wonder what people with active social lives are doing tonight.
She was about to do a google search on the very subject when her boss walked by. She hurriedly closed the window and got to work!
What a day!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I went in to work today and during a total lull I went to put up a post about my shenanigans the previous night. Much to my dismay and horror, I saw that the IT bitches have BLOCKED ACCESS TO MY BLOG!
The blacktress has been blacklisted. Hell to the no!
This ship is no longer cruisey--not cruisey at all. Thank god this is only a two-week gig.
If I'd had access to my diary earlier today, I would have recorded the following:
1. I am currently drinking hot chocolate out of a green mug with a picture of a sheep on it that says "Thinking of Ew." I remember why I hate office life.
2. One of my main tasks is to input names into the ships' security systems, so deliveries can be made and people can hop off and on. On today's list was 'McCarthy, Andrew." Is the Pretty in Pink hottie working for cruise ships now?! I wondered as I plugged him into the database. I then spent a large portion of the morning wondering what Andrew McCarthy would do on a cruise ship. Does he perform scenes from the film on the Lido Deck after bocce tourneys?
3. Today at work, I got a call from drag queen Portia Turbo, who I worked for during Fair Day. The call went something like this:
"Sojourner, gorgeous, it's Portia Turbo, how are you?"
"Great, how are you?"
"Good. Look, sweetheart, we love you, and we want you to work as a Gaydar Girl at the Mardi Gras Harbour Party next Sunday. Can you do it?"
"Will Verushka Darling be there?"
"Of course, gorgeous!"
Guys, I have been requested to act as a Gaydar Girl for the Harbour Party. Am I on my way to becoming a gay icon? This is everything I've ever wanted! What if I become a famous blacktress, but I'm only famous in Australia--then I can come home to NYC when I want to 'get away from it all.' Can you imagine?!
See, these are the things I would have shared in real time if only the massa of the ship had let me. What really pisses me off is that someone sitting near me listens to the radio all day. And we're not talking smooth Mozart sounds. Before 11am I heard MGMT's 'Electric Feel' and 'Don't Stop the Music' by Ri-Ri. I may as well have been in the club with such distracting grooves! How is it okay to listen to fun pop hits that could distract other colleagues but not okay to check email and update blogs during ridiculously long stretches of boredom?! Shit, I wrote most of this on a series of post-its on my desk--they can't make me work. You don't own me!
Sidenote: The best part about the pop music is that it can only be coming from one of two people: Jessica, a young girl who has yet to say hello to me; or Paul, who is known as 'Boots' (as in "Puss in")--a middle-aged man who regularly leaves at 3pm and doesn't say much.
I think it's him.
On an up-note, me and the boss-lady actually chit-chatted today. Turns out my kewpie doll is only 22 years young and has never left her home country. She also revealed that she "doesn't know what she's doing," which makes a lot of sense, since she can't quite delegate. When I complete basic tasks quickly and efficiently, she tries to bolster my self esteem with such phrases as "You're doing a good job!" and "Well done for thinking ahead!"
Um, sweetie, I've been reading on my own since I was 4. Don't get it twisted.
She's nice, though, and as far as "bosses" go, she causes no stress. If only I could get some fucking internet access! Don't they know I'm a future gay icon?!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The weekend was a bit dreary, but there were a few bright spots. Namely all of Sunday afternoon, which I spent working at Fair Day. Fair Day is the kick off for Mardi Gras, the gayest event in all of the world. Like, literally. Mardi Gras in Sydney is internationally known, and homosexuals and their supporters come from all over the world to partake in the merriment and joy. It’s apparently even been in the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest dance party. Suh-weet!
Of course, being a gay ol’ time, BCB is in there like swimwear, being a stylish, sassy black woman. She told me about the prospect of volunteering, which would get me a half-price ticket to the Big Show, and I readily signed up. However, when it came time for my 10am-2pm shifts this past weekend, I could not for the life of me get it together. A combo of not sleeping, dreary weather, and plain ol’ laziness stopped me from doing my sacred gay duty on Saturday morning. Later in the day, I got the following text message from a gal pal:
Hey, want to help out a drag queen friend of mine at Fair Day tomorrow from 1-8? It’s a paid gig.
This is the same friend who had me work at her office last Sunday for about 4 hours and $100. Homegirl knows the value of a hustle. I readily agreed, and was given the number of Portia, my boss for the day.
The next morning, it was cold, windy, and rainy, and the last thing I wanted to do was stand on the street peddling trifles. But long ago, I decided to live by one rule, and one rule only: never let down a drag queen.
And so off I went.
I showed up at 1pm as requested and found myself at the gaydar.com booth, a promo tent for a gay dating site. I was given a gaydarGIRLS.com t-shirt, and told to hand out various freebies to ladies that walked by. I was surrounded by tanned Aussie gay boys and one other woman. Whitney, the other gaydargirl, greeted me with “Oh, you’re gorgeous—thank god.”
I knew this was going to be a good day.
I’m normally not one for handing out randomness and bothering people when they’re en route, but the Fair Day crowd was all about freebies. In fact, they’d come up just to take whatever it was, even it was a fridge magnet for a lesbian dating site and they were a 10-year-old boy. Even though I don’t know too many people in this city, I managed to run into 7 people I knew, including two friends of Fred Weasley.
Perhaps they’ll tell him I’ve gone gay in his absence.
They probably aren’t wrong.
The highlight was undoubtedly drag queen Verushka Darling, who worked our booth for the day. I don’t know if I’ve admitted this in the blogosphere, but when I was little I really wanted to be a drag queen.
I’m not kidding.
I used to stay up late and watch The RuPaul Show on VH1 like it was my job. I was so obsessed. I think it’s mostly the confidence and glamour they exude—as well as their love for the spotlight—that inspired me as a young, pudgy, four-eyed, aspiring blacktress.
She is my inspiration. My she-ro, if you will.
My love for Verushka ran so deep that when she embarrassed me in front of a large crowd I only beamed, just happy to have been addressed. It went something like this:
Verushka (on her microphone, which boomed throughout the Fair Day crowd): Don’t forget to pick up some lovely treats from our Gaydar boys and girls. (she gestured towards us, then stops at me.)
You, you on the end, you’re gorgeous dahling!
Are you single, gorgeous?
[I nodded and sighed]
Good lord, why?!
[Ok, now this was just getting awkward. She then turns to the audience, and in her loudest voice, says]
Ladies and gentlemen, this gorgeous woman is single! [to me] Sweetie, can we auction you off as a prize?
[Um, obvi I nodded.] Ladies and gentleman, we are giving this lady away today, so step on up!!
The prizes she referred to was for those who came up to play “The Chocolate Wheel.” Contestants chose a number then spun the wheel three times. If it landed on their number, they were given a prize! Verushka was a real hoot and a half, and made sure that even the losers walked away with something. Top prizes included a free tanning session and tickets to “Absolute Kylie,” show performed by a drag queen who sings all of Kylie’s hits.
Gaydar knows its audience.
One brave homosexual faces the chocolate wheel. Notice the photos are just of men. “But don’t fret,” Veruka cheered. “Under each of these yellow triangles is a powerful wealthy lesbian in hiding, just waiting to pamper you!”
Whitney and I then headed over to the “Bitch Tent” where we handed out more toys to lesbians. I found it was quite easy to approach random groups of strangers, as my free things made me quite popular. Gaydar reps even followed us around, taking pictures of us with various randoms. I believe the quote was, “Ladies, get in tight around Sojourner!!”
Yes, yes ladies, get in tight.
I made a cool tax-free chunk of change for about 5 hours of work, so it was well worth it. I’m also trying to find a way to stalk Verushka to make her my best friend and confidante.
I want every day to be Fair Day.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Although I am unable to access gmail, I can get onto my blog.
Silly, silly slave—I mean, cruise—ship. They’ve underestimated how much I like talking about myself and my deep-seated need to share my emotions in a public format.
Today is my first full day. I got in at a quarter to 9, and was shocked and disappointed to find that everyone else was already here. I mean, it’s a Friday, guys? What happened to that laid back Aussie work ethic?! You work for a cruise line for goodness sakes—why aren’t you cruisey*?!
The day has gone relatively slowly, but after asking if I could be of assistance, I decided to use the down time to work on an article I’ve been procrastinating on for ages. I actually got it to a point that’s acceptable, and I’ve decided that the score is: THE MAN – 0, BLACKTRESS – 1.
After handling my own scandal I got down to handling the cruise ships’. This basically consists of sorting mail that passengers and crew will pick up when they arrive in Sydney, as well as scheduling doctor’s appointments and reserving hotels for crew between landing and embarking on their next voyage. Luckily, I have an excellent telephone voice, and had a great chat with a man at a certain hotel chain who didn’t speak much English. Every time he went to check something, instead of saying, “Please hold,” he would say, “Please may I hold you a moment?”
Yes. The answer that question is always yes.
My dear sweet Kewpie doll boss is very low-key, and always starts each task with, “Sojourner, when you get a moment, can you….?” Even if I’m sitting there picking a hangnail.
Um, yes, yes I can start that posthaste.
I guess I could start gearing up for the weekend, but the weather here is wretched! WTF, y’all?! It’s supposed to be summer time and the livin’ is supposed to be easy! It’s been 60 degrees, rainy and windy. In other words: it’s a cold mess. I’m tempted to just stay in tonight with a bottle of wine and some good eats, but then remembered that there’s nothing good to watch on TV, and that wine sometimes makes me cry—awkward! But it’s also really dreary and no one lives near me, so I’m not sure what to do. And it’s hard to look cute when you’re damp, you know?
Okay, better get back to this spreadsheet.
For more on the concept of cruisiness, look here.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Yesterday I got a phone call from Oliver, from Escalibre, a temp agency I'd signed up with over a month ago. I had my initial interview with Oliver, a dreamy blonde Brit with a dry humour. Most of our 50-minute interview just involved cracking jokes and talking about my time in Sydney thus far.
After getting mad bored with no temp gigs showing up, I started stalking Oliver much in the manner of a schoolgirl who has just lost her virginity to an asshole jock. I called regularly, trying to sound breezy, but subtly pressuring him for any job offers. Like the cool cad he is, he would totally make a couple of funnies, get me all comfortable, then take an emotional scythe to my throat as he told me there were no jobs available.
I finally realized that I couldn't force him to love me--I mean, find me work. So I decided to play it cool. And it turns out that good things do come to those who wait. And it is darkest before the dawn, and all that other crap.
I got a call to come in and work for a prominent cruise ship company, which will remain nameless just in case someone on staff likes to Google him/her/hirself when no one's looking. Of course, when I was first told I'd be working for a cruiseline, my reaction was two fold:
1. Will I be performing great diva hits on the Lido deck nightly at 7pm? I'll do anything but Etta James, as she's liable to cut a blacktress.
2. Ship...ship...ship...why does that fill me with dread? Oh yeah--SLAVERY!!!
Where are you taking me, Oliver?!
Clearly I overreacted.
I got in today at 10:30 am, where I was greeted by a smiley HR woman, who found it funny that I didn't want to look at my ID photo before it was printed. I mean, hello, business casual and chunky sweater--what's there to see? Any way you slice it, it's a hot mess.
I was then handed over to Sarah, who doesn't look a day over 12. In fact, she looks like a kewpie doll.
Imagine this doll dressed in a cardigan and A-line skirt, and give her a ponytail. That's my boss.
Luckily, she's as sweet as she looks and today was pretty low-key, which was good. Of course being a member of the talented tenth, work was crazily easy, and I found myself wanting to check my email during a lull.
After typing in gmail.com, I was greeted with the most heinous image I have ever seen:
BLOCKED BY SURFCONTROL.
How the hell am I supposed to get through my day without gmail?! I got in at 10:45, had a 45-minute lunch, was practically kicked out at 5:15pm, and still got everything done that had piled up. Without the ability to procrastinate and psychoanalyze every letter of every email from Fred Weasley, I'm going to have to actually work. Quickly and efficiently.
Then they'll realize I'm kind of bright and probably give me responsibilities or something.
This is not what I signed on for!
So, I'm calling out to you, readers. What can I do to procrastinate just enough that they don't want me to do extra things? Maybe I'll just stay up really late and go in so tired and lame that every task actually ends up taking 2 hours to complete.
Questions, comments, suggestions?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
I know it's 4 days into Black History Month and I haven't posted a damn thing. You've probably been sitting at your computers, waiting on my hard-hitting thesis on black culture in our new Obama age. Or maybe you were hoping for an interview with Eli Whitney, inventor of the cotton gin, asking him why the hell he had to go f shit up and make slavery fun for people.
Unfortunately, Eli wouldn't return my calls.
Even more unfortunately, not a soul in good ol' Sydney town knows what Black History Month is, so it's not like there are any TV specials or kids with school assignments asking me what it means to be black, like me. Or, for that matter, anyone sitting around reading the book "Black Like Me" (educate yourself to this reality). This, coupled with the 80-degree February weather has me all confused and forgetful. The most black-related things I've gotten is a series of puns from a music producer friend of mine. They include:
blacklash (we all know i've been there)
blaccident--"for when daddy forgot to strap up." I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean.
Clearly I'm lacking and slacking. However, I do enjoy using the phrase, "You can't blackmail this black male!" when faced with opposition.
Luckily, the Persian Excursion is on the case, repping a different unsung black hero every day of BHM. Check it out here.
To be fair, I've been partially behind cause I was wrapped up in my redheaded lover, who landed in New York City mere hours ago (Nothing like some white folks to make you forget all about your month of empowerment ;). Since his departure there has been crying on my part--for more info, see the next post.
Oh, and this is random, but I thought I should share:
The resemblance is too uncanny. Homegirl is part cray cray AND part muppet!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I’ve taken to sending them to friends for any and no reason, just to share the laughter and the joy. They’ve reciprocated, creating a lovely chain of goodness. But today, when discussing the e-card possibilities with Katie Walsh, we realized someecards.com was missing a very important category: “rejection.” While they have a category devoted to break ups, they’ve left out the all important moment when you really need to send an ecard. That is, after you’ve only gone on a few dates or had a one-night stand with someone who then acts like you don’t exist. How do you handle this rage? How can you get back at your oppressor electronically?
Well, Katie and I put our heads together and came up with our very own set of ecards: ScornedWomanEcards (we're hoping to get it as a .org, or maybe even .gov--perhaps sponsored by Michelle Obama???). Until we get our website up and running, you can save the images below and send them to the foes and hos that have done you wrong. I think the cards will say far more than your heart ever could.
Friday, February 22, 2008
men are so rude
L: i was like, NO not with you at least because i need someone who's not going to be emo
me: oh god!
why do they have such audacity?
L: i dont know
i fucking hate men
i think we are just a bunch of vag holes to them, who might feed them
L: say it, we're just all walking holes to them.
holes with the ability to cook dinner
and with better apartment amenities, so its like a hotel stay
like a fancy brothel
with only one whore
.... We then move on to the Australian, who I am back to crushing on. He's allegedly returning to this hemisphere in May, and I'm already getting hot and bothered thinking about it.
me: I hate liking the Australian because even though he’s a big deal to me, the minute he wants a woman, he can get one.
L: i know! all girls are willing thats why it fucking sucks
decent men who don't think you are a walking vagina are a COMMODITY
Ain't that the (sojourner) truth?
Oh, by the by-- i attempted to include an image with this post, but when i looked up "walking vag holes," "vag holes" and "one-woman brothels," the images were not appropriate for children, pregnant women, or a blacktress.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Below is a copy of a letter I received in the mail today. It has been re-typed for your reading pleasure/confusion. I have left in all punctuation, grammar, and misspellings, making no effort to make this man's words intelligible--since clearly, that was not his priority, either.
This letter leaves me scared, confused, and hungry. It's time for lunch now. Read and enjoy
Dear Art Magazine,
This letter is an inquirey. My material is based on this question. How do you turn all the people on this earth to go the other way? The answer is to bring all the people to learn the Circle Language. The Circle Language will bring all the people to be of one mind. The circle is a universal symbol. The Circle Language is a communication with the entire creation.
I have been in communication with the Life beyond this Earth for more than 30 years in secret. The communication came in anger because there has been an insult to the continuing mind around this Earth. I met the Great Spirit of the Indian Nation. The Great Spirit proved to me that the Spirit is a funnel spout revealing the Knowledge of God. The Great Spirit proved to me that the Holy Spirit on the other side of this Earth is the same Spirit as the Great Spirit. This Earth turns about its axis bringing the funnel spout to reveal the same answers as the Knowledge of God to both sides of this Earth.
(he then goes on to say something about ‘conquering the native being a “waist of time”’ which I don’t really understand—but as a freed slave, probably agree with)
The word language comes from the two words land and guage.
(um, call me crazy, but I think those are just misspelled versions of the syllables of the word)
The mind of God can be recognized by the formula 2 in 1. The Life beyond this Earth told me that the Christ Jesus used this formula to coin the word Love. The Word Love comes from the word Low and the letter V. The low V is the cycle of this Earth as this Earth turns around the sun. The point V is the law. High V is the cycle of this Universe every 2,000 years....
(What is he talking about?)
The Life beyond tells me that the people on this earth became confused because the man who wrote the New Testament Revelation was on heavy drugs (much like yourself, I say to the paper in my hand). He wrote in the beginning of the New Testament that he was in the Spirit. The only way to be in the Spirit is on heavy drugs. I was drug free and alcohol free when I met the Great Spirit. I let the Spirit do the identity bringing the Spirit to become a funnel spout.
(What does that sentence mean?)
I am told that the United States of America was built on drugs. The next step to the United States American Government will have to be built on drugs or the United States Government has come it its End Time…….
(Then some more gobledy-gook about “the end time” and “the good god,” which I have chosen to omit because I have real work to do.)
The End Time is a Harvest Time. The End Time of the year is a Harvest Time. The End Time of the World is a Harvest Time. The cycle of this Universe everything 2,000 years is one World….Jesus told the people in the New Testament to bring the message public. Public ment different in the time of Jesus than the word public means today. The Life beyond this Earth brought me to recognize the New Testament Revelation put public brings the formulas for the Holy Thoughts 6, 6-66, 666 through 12.
(Again, I ask: WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?????)
This earth is the 3rd planet in this Solar System in the light of the day time. The Earth is the 3rd planet in this Solar System in the darkness of the night time. The 6 is the number for this entire Earth. There are 9 planets in the solar system. The 9 planets and the Sun become the bases for the mathematic system to the base 10. The Knowledge of God comes first in numbers….
The Christ Jesus appeared to my mind after I met the Great Spirit. Jesus put me to paint a picture provide Jesus appered to me telling me the answers to build the River of Life on this Earth. The Christ Jesus told me that He went back to where God came from to bring the Crop Circles to be put in the fields of England beginning in the year 1957. Jesus and the Life beyond this Earth have brought me to develop the Circle Language from the Crop Circles. The Circle Language brings the answers to build the World of God on this Earth in these days and nights as it is in Heaven.
If you are interested in publishing my material, please contact…
He then enclosed color photocopies of his "Art"-- what can best be described as what would happen if a kindergarten student vomited onto their paper during a fingerpainting lesson. For legal reasons, I cannot scan these images and present them to you, though I am dying to. Just trust that they are doozies.