You know, this time last year, I was smack dab in the middle of Caucasia, where no one even knew was Black History Month was. And now, to be home, able to tell my TRUTH…well, it just warms my heart. I’ve been thinking of important black folks I wanted to share with you today, and I think I’ve come up with one.
She’s not famous.
She’s not on reality TV.
And no, she’s not 16 or pregnant.
She’s…MY GRANDMA.
Yes, my grandmother—or, as I like to call her, G-Unit.
My grandmother is 93 ½ years old, y’all—holla!! And yes, I said 93 ½ (her birthday is in June). I figure when you make it to as old as 93, you get to revert back to kid referral to your age – every second counts! Dudes, 93?! For reals? I think she has an autographed copy of the Bible – for reals.
Ethel Mae was born in Waynesboro, Mississippi in 1916. She currently lives in Detroit, Michigan—also known as “The City That God Forgot.” I used to spend every summer with Ethel until I was 14 years old. Ethel raised 7 kids and worked full time and was not exactly a sugar-and-spice grandmother. I didn’t get baked cookies – I got grits in the morning. There was no knitting and needlepoint, there was tilling the backyard fields. When my cousins and I would play hide-and-seek in her house, she’d always leave us with a warning:
“Be careful, and don’t go in that front room – that’s where I keep my gun.”
Yes, y’all! G-Unit will bust a cap in yo’ ass.
She’s never actually used the alleged gun, which I’ve never actually seen, but she says she had it for protection, because she’s “a lonely old woman living alone and people will prey on me.”
Um, nobody’s preyed on this old broad a day in her life.
“Okay, Sojourner, your grandma’s old--what’s your point?” you’re probably saying to yourself.
Well, gentle reader, this month, we’re honoring those that came before us and re-learning their lessons. As you can imagine, a woman who survived the Great Depression, WW2, and had a 68-year-old bf when she was 86 has pearls of wisdom to impart. Here are some nuggets for you to add to your TRUTH collection:
On preparing for disaster:
“In times of distress, you must be able to wipe yo’ ass.”
--Grandma to me, re: why she had a whole closet full of toilet paper before the year 2000. You know, she was worried about “the Y2K.”
On homosexuality:
“You know how I know she a lezbun? 1: She got that short haircut; B: We was watching a joe boxer commercial and the man was dancing in his underwear and she changed the channel? Why would she do that? I’m an old woman and I want to see it! You know why she changed it? Cause she a lezbun”
--Grandma, re: my cousin’s recent breakup from his gf.
On Michelle Obama:
“She lookin’ like a smiley Grinch. Don’t you just love that smiley Grinch?”
-Grandma, re: Michelle’s Vogue magazine article.
On interracial marriage:
“It’s okay for you, baby, cause you’ll be able to do your daughter’s hair. That Laura [my uncle’s white wife’] leaves her girl looking a mess, and it just breaks my heart.”
--As long as the children’s hair is tight, black-and-white is all right!
“Sojo, I think you should meet Bob, he’s a nice man, got a job. Why don’t y’all go on a date?”
--Bob is my white aunt’s brother. He is a 40-something divorcee who works at the Chrysler plant. My grandmother thinks he’s my type solely because he’s Caucasian.
On aging:
“I’m doing pretty fair for an ol’ lady. You know, I’m just waitin’ to die.”
-Grandma, in response to the always innocuous question, How are you doing?
I include this because this shows that grandma is never afraid to tell you the TRUTH, even it will make you uncomfortable and/or depressed.
So, as you go about your day—nay, your LIFE—try to live the Ethel Mae philosophy. Tell the TRUTH, the whole TRUTH, and nothing but the (Sojourner) TRUTH, so help you God! Who knows? You may even live to be 93.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Pulling the IncogNEGRO Out of the Shadows....
Hey guys,
I had a grande coffee this morning, so I'm feeling productive without a sense of impending doom or heart palpitations, which is pretty awesome.
So, I was thinking about what to write for today's post. We all know Black History Month is a time to honor the achievements of black folks in the US. I mean, okay, we've got two BLACKTRESS nominated for the Oscars this year, and PRECIOUS is nominated for best film. However, Sojourner would like to aid in the bringing of TRUTH this BHM by profiling less-known Af-Ams who have brought so much to the world, but who don’t get much coverage nowadays.
I call this segment…. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Negroes
In my search, I came across the following man, who works within my theme in many ways.
Master Lloyd Irvin is a world-renowned martial arts coach, competitor and martial arts Expert.
“Um, okay Sojo,” you may be saying to yourself. “What makes that so special???”
Well, gentle reader, Master Lloyd was the first African American in the World to receive a Black Belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
HOLY GUACAMOLE!!!! Look at Master Lloyd, locking it down for black folks everywhere.
Speaking, of “locking it down,” Master Lloyd is one of only a handful of instructors on the entire east coast that can proficiently perform leg locks. Three-time Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu World Champion Fabio Gurgel calls Master Lloyd "THE KING OF LEGLOCKS.”
THE KING OF LEGLOCKS, GUYS!!!!
I’m not even sure what a leglock is, but it sounds difficult and deadly, and I’m totes impressed (and kind of turned on… )
I love this shot of Lloyd, chillin' on the beach with a tucked in t-shirt and a coconut.
Jui-jitsu masters--they're just like us!!!
So, ladies, next time you’re doing your Kegel exercises, think of Lloyd. You have him to thank.
I had a grande coffee this morning, so I'm feeling productive without a sense of impending doom or heart palpitations, which is pretty awesome.
So, I was thinking about what to write for today's post. We all know Black History Month is a time to honor the achievements of black folks in the US. I mean, okay, we've got two BLACKTRESS nominated for the Oscars this year, and PRECIOUS is nominated for best film. However, Sojourner would like to aid in the bringing of TRUTH this BHM by profiling less-known Af-Ams who have brought so much to the world, but who don’t get much coverage nowadays.
I call this segment…. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Negroes
In my search, I came across the following man, who works within my theme in many ways.
Master Lloyd Irvin is a world-renowned martial arts coach, competitor and martial arts Expert.
“Um, okay Sojo,” you may be saying to yourself. “What makes that so special???”
Well, gentle reader, Master Lloyd was the first African American in the World to receive a Black Belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
HOLY GUACAMOLE!!!! Look at Master Lloyd, locking it down for black folks everywhere.
Speaking, of “locking it down,” Master Lloyd is one of only a handful of instructors on the entire east coast that can proficiently perform leg locks. Three-time Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu World Champion Fabio Gurgel calls Master Lloyd "THE KING OF LEGLOCKS.”
THE KING OF LEGLOCKS, GUYS!!!!
I’m not even sure what a leglock is, but it sounds difficult and deadly, and I’m totes impressed (and kind of turned on… )
I love this shot of Lloyd, chillin' on the beach with a tucked in t-shirt and a coconut.Jui-jitsu masters--they're just like us!!!
So, ladies, next time you’re doing your Kegel exercises, think of Lloyd. You have him to thank.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Black History Month is Gonna be FIERCE
Last night’s premiere episode of “Drag Race” was so good, I almost had a heart attack from pure pleasure.
I don’t know if my words can do it justice. I will provide a brief rundown of the new characters, as well as things I learned from this episode.
The 12 Contestants (In Order of Appearance):
Nicole Paige Brooks, from Atlanta, GA. I'm not feeling her face for some reason.
Shangela "the debutantess from the deep south" - she's bourgie, but also your homegirl! Shangela’s only been in the drag game 5 months, but don’t hold that against her.
Raven She has double chin piercings. She doesn't carry a purse and has an arm tatt!
Jujubee,25, from Boston, MA. She’s a sassy Asian. “Jujubee’s really into accessories,” she says.
Sahara Davenport, 25, NYC – She and Shangela went to college together, have been friends forever!!
Morgan McMichaels - Morgan and Raven know each other. everyone’s besties!
Mystique Summers, from Texas – she’s a big gal. “Fuck these skinny bitches” she says from the get-go. FIERCE.
Jessica Wild, from San Juan, Puerto Rico. I love how Puerto Rico is involved for the 2nd year in a row.
Sonique, also from ATL, and is friends with Nicole Paige Brooks (it’s a small drag world after all!!!)
Tatianna - 21, from VA. She is sooooo pretty. Like, I just want to go to the mall with her and judge people in the food court. She says that she walked out of the house in drag at 14 years old. LOVE IT.
Pandora Boxx - looks kinda like Kathy Griffin....wait, he just said, "I’m a big chunk of Kathy Griffin" – DRAG QUEEN MIND MELD. Pandora’s a little too mannish for me, I must say, but she seems sweet and dedicated.
Tyra Sanchez, 21, from FL. I don’t like her teeth, but she looks so fierce. Best quote of the episode: "I had my Rihanna hair on... I was very much a lady."
The whole episode’s theme was “Gone With the Wind,” and the opening photo shoot was beyond exciting. Bronzed beefcake Mike Ruiz, photographer/judge from last season, was taking pics. His best line of the episode:
“Okay, here’s the context: It’s the height of the Civil War. I want you to straddle the cannon, work the fabric, and flirt with the guys.” – Mike’s notes to Jujubee, the first girl for the photo shoot.
Um, was there cannon straddling at the height of the Civil War? Did I miss that day in history class?
Other things I learned from last night’s episode:
“When I saw the fan, I was excited, because fans make everything prettier.”
– Tatianna, on the shoot.
So true, girl. So true.
Key West, Florida, is apparently a gay haven, judging by the commercial shown mid-way through the episode. That would explain why I enjoyed Spring Break 2K4 so much…..
"We’re not judging potential ...this is RuPaul's drag race, not RuPaul's school for girls.” – Ru on Shangela…..
I wish RuPaul's School for Girls was a real place...and that it took grown women.
The most important thing I learned last night came from Mystique, and it's this: when all else fails, DO A SPLIT. I don’t care if you’re 500 pounds, be prepared to break it down.
I don’t know if my words can do it justice. I will provide a brief rundown of the new characters, as well as things I learned from this episode.
The 12 Contestants (In Order of Appearance):
Nicole Paige Brooks, from Atlanta, GA. I'm not feeling her face for some reason.
Shangela "the debutantess from the deep south" - she's bourgie, but also your homegirl! Shangela’s only been in the drag game 5 months, but don’t hold that against her.
Raven She has double chin piercings. She doesn't carry a purse and has an arm tatt!
Jujubee,25, from Boston, MA. She’s a sassy Asian. “Jujubee’s really into accessories,” she says.
Sahara Davenport, 25, NYC – She and Shangela went to college together, have been friends forever!!
Morgan McMichaels - Morgan and Raven know each other. everyone’s besties!
Mystique Summers, from Texas – she’s a big gal. “Fuck these skinny bitches” she says from the get-go. FIERCE.
Jessica Wild, from San Juan, Puerto Rico. I love how Puerto Rico is involved for the 2nd year in a row.
Sonique, also from ATL, and is friends with Nicole Paige Brooks (it’s a small drag world after all!!!)
Tatianna - 21, from VA. She is sooooo pretty. Like, I just want to go to the mall with her and judge people in the food court. She says that she walked out of the house in drag at 14 years old. LOVE IT.
Pandora Boxx - looks kinda like Kathy Griffin....wait, he just said, "I’m a big chunk of Kathy Griffin" – DRAG QUEEN MIND MELD. Pandora’s a little too mannish for me, I must say, but she seems sweet and dedicated.
Tyra Sanchez, 21, from FL. I don’t like her teeth, but she looks so fierce. Best quote of the episode: "I had my Rihanna hair on... I was very much a lady."
The whole episode’s theme was “Gone With the Wind,” and the opening photo shoot was beyond exciting. Bronzed beefcake Mike Ruiz, photographer/judge from last season, was taking pics. His best line of the episode:
“Okay, here’s the context: It’s the height of the Civil War. I want you to straddle the cannon, work the fabric, and flirt with the guys.” – Mike’s notes to Jujubee, the first girl for the photo shoot.
Um, was there cannon straddling at the height of the Civil War? Did I miss that day in history class?
Other things I learned from last night’s episode:
“When I saw the fan, I was excited, because fans make everything prettier.”
– Tatianna, on the shoot.
So true, girl. So true.
Key West, Florida, is apparently a gay haven, judging by the commercial shown mid-way through the episode. That would explain why I enjoyed Spring Break 2K4 so much…..
"We’re not judging potential ...this is RuPaul's drag race, not RuPaul's school for girls.” – Ru on Shangela…..
I wish RuPaul's School for Girls was a real place...and that it took grown women.
The most important thing I learned last night came from Mystique, and it's this: when all else fails, DO A SPLIT. I don’t care if you’re 500 pounds, be prepared to break it down.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Black HERStory Month!
Happy Black History Month, guys!!!!
It’s a great time to be black, gang!! Last night started off strong, with a viewing of “BORN WITHOUT A FACE” (aaahhh!!! I couldn’t look away!), followed by a “Criminal Minds” mini-marathon (I’m just that cool). Although I slept rather fretfully, once I remembered what today was, I jumped out of bed with great glee.* I got to work and was pleased to begin my first week sitting at my new desk, which is NOT directly across from the bathroom. Holla at a blacktress movin’ on up!! I no longer have to hear my coworkers urinate as I pretend to do work.
We have a new girl in our office today, and she took my old desk. I already don’t like her—no, not just because she’s not black! It’s because she’s overly familiar and asks for a lot of things. Plus, she's wearing, like, leggings and grey cowboy boots and a tight green cardi - this is an OFFICE. It’s your FIRST DAY. And you make way more than I do, and I have to go Banana Republic biz-cas. Please have the decency to at least pretend to care, like the rest of us—at least in the beginning.
Anyway, I digress. I should be pleased that I now live in a world where Sojourner can be cold to a Caucasian newbie without fear of retribution. This is growth, people! Add to this the fact that tonight’s the season 2 premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and this month is gonna be off the chain! Y’all know how much I love a DQ, and Ru is the queen of them all. I was in Australia during the first season of this show, and upon returning, it was more important to see Drag Race than call up my 93-year-old grandmother. (Does that make me a bad person?)
I think my favorite part had to be the finale, when their challenge was to write a rap for Ru’s song. Bebe Zahara Benet’s rap involves her saying the word ‘face,’ like, 10 times.
And she won the challenge.
I love this show so hard.
Add to this the fact that RuPaul is BLACK, and I think the BHM tie-ins are beyond obvious.
Okay, guys, it’s damn near noon, and I haven’t done an ounce of work. Apparently my boss doesn’t “understand” that Black History Month is a national holiday and I can’t be “expected” to “actually do my work” at any point.
Um, can we talk about the fact that I’m at work wearing my headphones and listening to ‘Covergirl (Put the Bass in Your Walk)’?
(Check out minute 1:22 for the start of the ‘face’ goodness)
I think what I love most about this show is the fact that, at the end of the episode, the bottom 2 contestants stand side-by-side and are told to “Lip synch…. FOR YOUR LIFE.”
I hope to one day be able to say the very same to two dueling male suitors. Whichever one is more fierce will get to be with me forever.
*god I miss that show.
Sidebar: Those who are in NYC and want to see the blacktress LIVE can check out the following stand-up shows this month:
Thursday, February 11, 9pm
Comedy Party USA
@ The Grizzly Pear
107 Macdougal St.
(Trains to West 4th)
Friday, February 12, 9pm
The Back Room
Ochi's Lounge
downstairs in Comix, 14th btwn 8th and 9th Avenue
(A/C/E to 14th street)
Both shows are FREE!
It’s a great time to be black, gang!! Last night started off strong, with a viewing of “BORN WITHOUT A FACE” (aaahhh!!! I couldn’t look away!), followed by a “Criminal Minds” mini-marathon (I’m just that cool). Although I slept rather fretfully, once I remembered what today was, I jumped out of bed with great glee.* I got to work and was pleased to begin my first week sitting at my new desk, which is NOT directly across from the bathroom. Holla at a blacktress movin’ on up!! I no longer have to hear my coworkers urinate as I pretend to do work.
We have a new girl in our office today, and she took my old desk. I already don’t like her—no, not just because she’s not black! It’s because she’s overly familiar and asks for a lot of things. Plus, she's wearing, like, leggings and grey cowboy boots and a tight green cardi - this is an OFFICE. It’s your FIRST DAY. And you make way more than I do, and I have to go Banana Republic biz-cas. Please have the decency to at least pretend to care, like the rest of us—at least in the beginning.
Anyway, I digress. I should be pleased that I now live in a world where Sojourner can be cold to a Caucasian newbie without fear of retribution. This is growth, people! Add to this the fact that tonight’s the season 2 premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and this month is gonna be off the chain! Y’all know how much I love a DQ, and Ru is the queen of them all. I was in Australia during the first season of this show, and upon returning, it was more important to see Drag Race than call up my 93-year-old grandmother. (Does that make me a bad person?)
I think my favorite part had to be the finale, when their challenge was to write a rap for Ru’s song. Bebe Zahara Benet’s rap involves her saying the word ‘face,’ like, 10 times.
And she won the challenge.
I love this show so hard.
Add to this the fact that RuPaul is BLACK, and I think the BHM tie-ins are beyond obvious.
Okay, guys, it’s damn near noon, and I haven’t done an ounce of work. Apparently my boss doesn’t “understand” that Black History Month is a national holiday and I can’t be “expected” to “actually do my work” at any point.
Um, can we talk about the fact that I’m at work wearing my headphones and listening to ‘Covergirl (Put the Bass in Your Walk)’?
(Check out minute 1:22 for the start of the ‘face’ goodness)
I think what I love most about this show is the fact that, at the end of the episode, the bottom 2 contestants stand side-by-side and are told to “Lip synch…. FOR YOUR LIFE.”
I hope to one day be able to say the very same to two dueling male suitors. Whichever one is more fierce will get to be with me forever.
*god I miss that show.
Sidebar: Those who are in NYC and want to see the blacktress LIVE can check out the following stand-up shows this month:
Thursday, February 11, 9pm
Comedy Party USA
@ The Grizzly Pear
107 Macdougal St.
(Trains to West 4th)
Friday, February 12, 9pm
The Back Room
Ochi's Lounge
downstairs in Comix, 14th btwn 8th and 9th Avenue
(A/C/E to 14th street)
Both shows are FREE!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Teen Mom Getting Married! SWOON CITY
The above title is the same as a text message I received upon waking this morning (I'm sure it was sent last night, though. Who texts at 7am?).
Even though I was still groggy and confused, I instantly knew what it meant. Even though I missed it, the "Teen Mom" season finale was last night. And, based on the previous week's episode, I knew Tyler had been thinking of buying Catelynn a ring.
And apparently, he popped the question!!!
I am so ridiculously excited, even though the idea of 17-year-olds getting married kinda makes me scared (for them) and sad (for me- am I behind schedule?). But, quite frankly, when you've been through everything these two tykes have, it makes sense to feel like you want to be in it for life.
(For those of you out of the loop, I basically am obsessed with Tyler)
While, of course, I think most people shouldn't get married until they've earned a degree, seen the world, and learned about themselves solo, I also think that it's important to LOCK IT DOWN when it's working. As far as I'm concerned, Catelynn isn't missing anything by not going to college, getting drunk, and hooking up with randoms who say they'll text her and don't. And she sure as shit isn't missing out on post-college "real world" dating, in which you don't know if a man is for real or wanted in 5 states until the cops come knockin'.
What? I'm not bitter.
Guys, Tyler and Catelynn show the world what love is! Tyler is 17, but he's a man who's unafraid to cry, stand by his woman's side, and give up his baby so that it has everything he didn't.
And, most importantly, Tyler knows that if you like it, then you should put a ring on it!!!
For those of you who haven't seen, here it is:
Oh my god, I love Catelynn's acrylic nails and orthodontia - girls with rubberbands need love, too!! Tyler's totally got product in his hair, and there are those waterworks!! I love him. His suit is way too big. MTV totally rented this spot so they could have a romantic moment, and I love them for it.
So, guys, today is a day to believe in love. And to believe in Tyler. I have embedded the following music video in his honor:
They didn't have "Whatta 17-year-old Boy"...but perhaps that's my next hit single.
Even though I was still groggy and confused, I instantly knew what it meant. Even though I missed it, the "Teen Mom" season finale was last night. And, based on the previous week's episode, I knew Tyler had been thinking of buying Catelynn a ring.
And apparently, he popped the question!!!
I am so ridiculously excited, even though the idea of 17-year-olds getting married kinda makes me scared (for them) and sad (for me- am I behind schedule?). But, quite frankly, when you've been through everything these two tykes have, it makes sense to feel like you want to be in it for life.
(For those of you out of the loop, I basically am obsessed with Tyler)
While, of course, I think most people shouldn't get married until they've earned a degree, seen the world, and learned about themselves solo, I also think that it's important to LOCK IT DOWN when it's working. As far as I'm concerned, Catelynn isn't missing anything by not going to college, getting drunk, and hooking up with randoms who say they'll text her and don't. And she sure as shit isn't missing out on post-college "real world" dating, in which you don't know if a man is for real or wanted in 5 states until the cops come knockin'.
What? I'm not bitter.
Guys, Tyler and Catelynn show the world what love is! Tyler is 17, but he's a man who's unafraid to cry, stand by his woman's side, and give up his baby so that it has everything he didn't.
And, most importantly, Tyler knows that if you like it, then you should put a ring on it!!!
For those of you who haven't seen, here it is:
Oh my god, I love Catelynn's acrylic nails and orthodontia - girls with rubberbands need love, too!! Tyler's totally got product in his hair, and there are those waterworks!! I love him. His suit is way too big. MTV totally rented this spot so they could have a romantic moment, and I love them for it.
So, guys, today is a day to believe in love. And to believe in Tyler. I have embedded the following music video in his honor:
They didn't have "Whatta 17-year-old Boy"...but perhaps that's my next hit single.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Somebody's Got a Case of the Mondays.....
OMFG I am so bored today, guys. And it’s not even noon. I’ve been trying to look busy, which involves much bloggery. However, being tired slows down my capacity for original thought, which makes successful bloggery difficult. Anyway, my weekend was pretty low-key. I’ve become a Harlem recluse, staying home most nights and keeping it incognegro with television. It helps that madukes and her Latin lover are in Uruguay, because now I can stay home without the threat of black mama drama.
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:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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?
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:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Character Study
Ok, guys, first off I have to tell you that I’ve been working on this post for an hour--well, not exactly writing it, but writing it slowly and covertly to avoid the judgment of my colleagues. One of my coworkers just left for a press event, so now I feel free to continue writing.
No, this person is not my boss. In fact, he is younger than me, and took my old job when I went off to Oz. However, he is really hardcore and intense, and has, like, a work ethic or something—and, instead of inspiring me to work, his focus and care for the job just makes me feel bad.
Anyway, whatever. Guilt is a useless emotion. Back to blogging!
So, I haven’t slept through the night in over two weeks, but I’m kinda amped today (and no, I haven’t had Starbucks…yet). It’s because tonight I have the first of a two-session character workshop at UCB with…. JEFF HILLER.
I think you all know how I feel about this tall glass of milk (my review of his hit musical Bernice Bobs Her Mullet says it all).
He is my gay icon.
We met a couple years ago at a friend’s Halloween party, which was beyond exciting, as I’d loved his improvisational comedy stylings from afar for a couple of years. Turns out that gay icons are just like us! Jeff’s really nice and always keeps a blacktress in mind, even nominating me for a diversity scholarship at Upright Citizens Brigade Theater – holla at my reparations!
I think if they brought back slavery, I could count on Jeff to buy my freedom.
Since our meeting in ’07, we’ve done Gayest Week Ever together, and discovered that we HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY.
Um, hello FATE, it’s me, Blacktress!
I even attended his birthday party this year, which means we’re officially best friends!
(I think. He won’t give me his phone number, or hang out with me one-on-one, but I still like to think we’re close.)
Anyway, I’m pretty amped to do a little BLACting tonight and focus on character work. I tend to mostly play myself in improvised scenes because when forced to think on the spot, I only come up with Me, Me, Me.
My favorite joke pre-improv show is to go around to the other performers and say, “so, I was reading the script, and I think you should really shout at me during your big monologue on page three...”
Get it? I’m implying that it’s not at all improvised, but that we’re doing a scripted production.
Ha.
Anyways, my desire to control the world around me in an attempt to make its citizens bend to my will means that I’m going to jot down a list of characters I’d like to try out – and will force into any scene I’m in whether or not it makes sense.
What do you think of these, gang?
Rhonda A one-armed hooker with a heart of gold who has a severe gluten allergy, but just wants to open her own bakery.
Craig An anemic homosexual teen vampire who loves show tunes. He plans to spend the rest of eternity recreating popular music videos on YouTube. You know, like "He-Wolf."*
Gruff Townsend A gritty, hard-boiled detective on the hunt for an Arby’s in New York City. Just, you know, any Arby’s.
Mellie A southern teenage mother, inspired by every character on ’16 and Pregnant.’
If one of these isn’t comedic gold, then I don’t know what I’ve got left.
Leave any suggestions you may have. If you play your cards right, I can even record it and put it up next week!
*Also, if you love teen gay boys' recreation of music videos as much as I do, here's He Wolf. All I can say is, Shakira better watch her back.
No, this person is not my boss. In fact, he is younger than me, and took my old job when I went off to Oz. However, he is really hardcore and intense, and has, like, a work ethic or something—and, instead of inspiring me to work, his focus and care for the job just makes me feel bad.
Anyway, whatever. Guilt is a useless emotion. Back to blogging!
So, I haven’t slept through the night in over two weeks, but I’m kinda amped today (and no, I haven’t had Starbucks…yet). It’s because tonight I have the first of a two-session character workshop at UCB with…. JEFF HILLER.
I think you all know how I feel about this tall glass of milk (my review of his hit musical Bernice Bobs Her Mullet says it all).
He is my gay icon.
We met a couple years ago at a friend’s Halloween party, which was beyond exciting, as I’d loved his improvisational comedy stylings from afar for a couple of years. Turns out that gay icons are just like us! Jeff’s really nice and always keeps a blacktress in mind, even nominating me for a diversity scholarship at Upright Citizens Brigade Theater – holla at my reparations!
I think if they brought back slavery, I could count on Jeff to buy my freedom.
Since our meeting in ’07, we’ve done Gayest Week Ever together, and discovered that we HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY.
Um, hello FATE, it’s me, Blacktress!
I even attended his birthday party this year, which means we’re officially best friends!
(I think. He won’t give me his phone number, or hang out with me one-on-one, but I still like to think we’re close.)
Anyway, I’m pretty amped to do a little BLACting tonight and focus on character work. I tend to mostly play myself in improvised scenes because when forced to think on the spot, I only come up with Me, Me, Me.
My favorite joke pre-improv show is to go around to the other performers and say, “so, I was reading the script, and I think you should really shout at me during your big monologue on page three...”
Get it? I’m implying that it’s not at all improvised, but that we’re doing a scripted production.
Ha.
Anyways, my desire to control the world around me in an attempt to make its citizens bend to my will means that I’m going to jot down a list of characters I’d like to try out – and will force into any scene I’m in whether or not it makes sense.
What do you think of these, gang?
Rhonda A one-armed hooker with a heart of gold who has a severe gluten allergy, but just wants to open her own bakery.
Craig An anemic homosexual teen vampire who loves show tunes. He plans to spend the rest of eternity recreating popular music videos on YouTube. You know, like "He-Wolf."*
Gruff Townsend A gritty, hard-boiled detective on the hunt for an Arby’s in New York City. Just, you know, any Arby’s.
Mellie A southern teenage mother, inspired by every character on ’16 and Pregnant.’
If one of these isn’t comedic gold, then I don’t know what I’ve got left.
Leave any suggestions you may have. If you play your cards right, I can even record it and put it up next week!
*Also, if you love teen gay boys' recreation of music videos as much as I do, here's He Wolf. All I can say is, Shakira better watch her back.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Teen Mom's MOM in Jail!
Hahhaa. Someone clicked my last blog post as being "not funny." Listen, I never said it was all gonna be perfect, folks.
Anyway, I'm trying to get over my writer's block.
Okay, guys, I know I was supposed to be watching and live-blogging “Teen Mom.” The thing is, I got about halfway through an episode and got more depressed than during any episode of 16 and Preggers - I believe this is because now there are actual infants being raised in these households, and the dysfunction is just really really sad and the danger is evident.
Things I did manage to jot down during my first ½ hour of viewing:
- is it just me, or does farrah look like a lost kardashian sister?
- who is maci's random-ass black friend who they don't let speak?
- amber looks exactly like miss piggy. i do not mean this because she's overweight - her actual FACE looks like miss piggy. like, if she had that face on a thinner frame, she'd still be miss piggy to me.
- amber's parenting is amazing. she says to the baby, "the reason you're crying is because you're tired."
no, amber, you can't use logic on an infant.
- Tyler is the only man i'll ever love.
(is it weird that I’m using two 17 years olds who gave their unplanned baby up for adoption as my model for a healthy relationship?_
So, I’ve been catching bits and pieces of episodes where I can, and I really can’t handle Farrah (the lost Kardashian). She is soooo mean and rude to her mom and stepdad, and is constantly leaving her baby at home so she can go find a man. While I’d be pretty excited if I had no baby weight, either, the fact is, you can’t be holding a baby on your lap while you’re texting to a man named Shaq! Farrah, get it together, you don’t even have your Good Enough Diploma (GED)!
She’s cursing out her parents left and right, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to me to get the following newsbrief:
TEEN MOM ALLGEDLY CHOKED BY HER MOTHER
Farrah’s mother apparently couldn’t handle it anymore. Considering her mom hit her in the face on her episode of “16 and Pregnant,” I wouldn’t it put it past mom to choke a child. This is so out of control, y’all!!
(Also, is it just me, or does Farrah’s mom look like a cracked out Blythe Danner?)
For serious.
Anyway, this series is getting out of control! Also, I’m quite sad to see that Ebony isn’t on the series (love that the black girl’s name is EBONY. Perhaps I should change my name to NUBIA). Maybe this means she’s actually raising her child and not engaging in insanity. One can only hope!
Anyway, I'm trying to get over my writer's block.
Okay, guys, I know I was supposed to be watching and live-blogging “Teen Mom.” The thing is, I got about halfway through an episode and got more depressed than during any episode of 16 and Preggers - I believe this is because now there are actual infants being raised in these households, and the dysfunction is just really really sad and the danger is evident.
Things I did manage to jot down during my first ½ hour of viewing:
- is it just me, or does farrah look like a lost kardashian sister?
- who is maci's random-ass black friend who they don't let speak?
- amber looks exactly like miss piggy. i do not mean this because she's overweight - her actual FACE looks like miss piggy. like, if she had that face on a thinner frame, she'd still be miss piggy to me.
- amber's parenting is amazing. she says to the baby, "the reason you're crying is because you're tired."
no, amber, you can't use logic on an infant.
- Tyler is the only man i'll ever love.
(is it weird that I’m using two 17 years olds who gave their unplanned baby up for adoption as my model for a healthy relationship?_
So, I’ve been catching bits and pieces of episodes where I can, and I really can’t handle Farrah (the lost Kardashian). She is soooo mean and rude to her mom and stepdad, and is constantly leaving her baby at home so she can go find a man. While I’d be pretty excited if I had no baby weight, either, the fact is, you can’t be holding a baby on your lap while you’re texting to a man named Shaq! Farrah, get it together, you don’t even have your Good Enough Diploma (GED)!
She’s cursing out her parents left and right, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to me to get the following newsbrief:
TEEN MOM ALLGEDLY CHOKED BY HER MOTHER
Farrah’s mother apparently couldn’t handle it anymore. Considering her mom hit her in the face on her episode of “16 and Pregnant,” I wouldn’t it put it past mom to choke a child. This is so out of control, y’all!!
(Also, is it just me, or does Farrah’s mom look like a cracked out Blythe Danner?)
(Gwyneth Paltrow's mom)
(Farrah's mom)
For serious.
Anyway, this series is getting out of control! Also, I’m quite sad to see that Ebony isn’t on the series (love that the black girl’s name is EBONY. Perhaps I should change my name to NUBIA). Maybe this means she’s actually raising her child and not engaging in insanity. One can only hope!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Move Over Patsy Cline - I'm the one who's CRAZY
I'm sitting at my desk right now, muttering to myself like a schizophrenic. I believe my exact words were, "Okay, okay, come on, come on." I have this article to write - in fact, I've had it to write for over a month now - and I've got all of 3 measley paragraphs.
It's a balmy 45 degrees (Farenheit), so I'm wearing a thin cable knit sweater, and figured I'd cas it up with jeans - after all, I do work at a magazine. I'm hip, I'm with it.
Turns out the big boss from Colorado (aka, the overseer), who laid off about 50 people yesterday, is coming in today with his right-hand woman. This is probably the wrong time to be dressed down. And I'm over here with an article unwritten. I'm gonna totally get fired for wearing jeans, aren't I?
I'm seriously cracked out. Take, for instance, an excerpt from this morning's first gchat with Jaime (yeah, okay, it's only 9:30 and I'm already procrastinating. what of it?):
me: what is this show?!
my crush greg or my (not) crush tim?
Jaime: no, Brandon Gates
duh
me: SO MANY CRUSHES
WHO IS THAT PERSON?
BRANDON GATES
ALL CAPS
me: ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME
INTENSITY
What the hell is wrong with me? Who are these crushes? Why am I dressed like I'm hitting the streets when the overseer is due in any second? Why on earth would I blog on the plantation at such a delicate time? I'm a hot ass mess today.
It's a balmy 45 degrees (Farenheit), so I'm wearing a thin cable knit sweater, and figured I'd cas it up with jeans - after all, I do work at a magazine. I'm hip, I'm with it.
Turns out the big boss from Colorado (aka, the overseer), who laid off about 50 people yesterday, is coming in today with his right-hand woman. This is probably the wrong time to be dressed down. And I'm over here with an article unwritten. I'm gonna totally get fired for wearing jeans, aren't I?
I'm seriously cracked out. Take, for instance, an excerpt from this morning's first gchat with Jaime (yeah, okay, it's only 9:30 and I'm already procrastinating. what of it?):
me: what is this show?!
my crush greg or my (not) crush tim?
Jaime: no, Brandon Gates
duh
me: SO MANY CRUSHES
WHO IS THAT PERSON?
BRANDON GATES
ALL CAPS
me: ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME
INTENSITY
What the hell is wrong with me? Who are these crushes? Why am I dressed like I'm hitting the streets when the overseer is due in any second? Why on earth would I blog on the plantation at such a delicate time? I'm a hot ass mess today.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
I Should Have Never Ordered a Venti
I’m not really a coffee drinker. As you can probably tell from this blog, I’m naturally a bit of a spazz and my brain tends to move 60 miles a minute. However, on particularly sluggish days, a nip of caffeine is in order, and for some reason, this morning I awoke with a single-minded craving that was quite uncharacteristic. I left the house early and ventured to the Starbucks nearest to my office. I found myself fidgeting as I waited in line, like a crack addict. I heard the guy in front of me order ‘a grande coffee,’ and not being a Starbucks regular, I repeated his order, saying ‘large’ instead of grande. It’s the same thing, right?
NO.
I was given 20 ounces of caffeine, to which I added approximately skim milk, a sprinkle of cocoa, and 6 splenda. I sipped my sweet delight for about an hour, even reheating it when it got grossly cold. My experience is evident in the following gchat with Kwalsh
9:19am
[new status message: coffee is life]
me: holy shit, coffee is great
i feel this urge and energy to be productive
KWalsh: haha
welcome to the dark side!
11:09 am
me: ok, now it's cold
i need to stop drinking it
[new status message: coffee is death.]
11:25am
me: oh god, i think my heart's going to explode
me: my hands are shaking
i'm drinking water, in an attempt to dilute the potency
[Note that Kwalsh has not responded, and yet I’m still typing]
Kwalsh: oh jesus
how much did you drink?
me: i had a venti
walsh, i shouldn't have had a venti
Kwalsh: oh lord. switch to grande next time
Clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I went from a surge of productivity to a certainty that we're in the movie “2012,” and it's all gonna come crashing down. I’ve just chugged two glasses of water, as inspired by the Walsh family motto: “The solution to pollution is dilution.”
Of course, I will have coffee tomorrow morning, because I have an addictive personality and love a rush.
NO.
I was given 20 ounces of caffeine, to which I added approximately skim milk, a sprinkle of cocoa, and 6 splenda. I sipped my sweet delight for about an hour, even reheating it when it got grossly cold. My experience is evident in the following gchat with Kwalsh
9:19am
[new status message: coffee is life]
me: holy shit, coffee is great
i feel this urge and energy to be productive
KWalsh: haha
welcome to the dark side!
11:09 am
me: ok, now it's cold
i need to stop drinking it
[new status message: coffee is death.]
11:25am
me: oh god, i think my heart's going to explode
me: my hands are shaking
i'm drinking water, in an attempt to dilute the potency
[Note that Kwalsh has not responded, and yet I’m still typing]
Kwalsh: oh jesus
how much did you drink?
me: i had a venti
walsh, i shouldn't have had a venti
Kwalsh: oh lord. switch to grande next time
Clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I went from a surge of productivity to a certainty that we're in the movie “2012,” and it's all gonna come crashing down. I’ve just chugged two glasses of water, as inspired by the Walsh family motto: “The solution to pollution is dilution.”
Of course, I will have coffee tomorrow morning, because I have an addictive personality and love a rush.
Monday, January 4, 2010
First Post of 2010!
Happy 2010 guys! I’ve really missed you; I haven’t blogged in a decade! 2009 was a wild ride from one hemisphere to the other – but let’s never speak of it again. I haven’t been on the plantation in over a week, but was quite pleased to arrive and find that our internet is down – there’s only so much work I can pretend to do when I can’t even check my outlook. Anywho—let’s get up to speed by writing a post in a word document.
Since last I blogged, things have been mostly copacetic. Christmas was spent seated in a recliner wearing an electric blanket (my one and only present from Santa) and watching “Taken,” starring Liam Neeson. I love action films, and came away with one vital piece of information: I have a deep-seated desire for Liam Neeson to be my real-life dad. Well, that, and never give a random TMI, or you’ll end up sex-trafficked, on a boat bound for the United Arab Emirates.
After Christmas, blacktress headed into the flurry of excitement that is the 7 days of Kwanzaa – which, as you all know, is Swahili for “After-Christmas sales.” Mother and I celebrated right, getting 40% off items at Banana Republic.
(I’m sorry, is it just me, or is any holiday invented by a dude named Ron in 1966 somewhat suspect? I just don’t know if I buy it. Plus, doesn’t “kinara” – in which the kwanzaa candles are held – sound a lot like ‘menorah’ + ‘kwanzaa’? You can’t call it your own and jack it from the Jews, people!)
I was thrown for a loop when, on 12/30, I received a facebook invite from the college bf to whom I lost my virginity. He’s still in purgatory, mostly because I don’t know how to handle this. While he’s a swell fella who I have no drama with (I know, a huge surprise!), I don’t know if he needs access to my f-book. I live my life by a few simple rules, one of which is: You can’t poke me on facebook after you’ve poked me in real life. Call me old fashioned, but it’s just how I roll.
I rang in 2010 with an uneventful mini-makeout session, only made more uneventful by the dude’s lack of follow-through. However, my most recent redheaded crush has lifted, as he had the gall – nay, the audacity - not to speak to a blacktress when she was looking hella good (you know, like the Gwen Stefani song). I realized that an imaginary relationship can only last so long if one party refuses to engage in conversation. I’m not cultivating crazy in 2010 – save the drama for Obama!
I was able to engage in many TV marathons, including Discovery Health’s “fat marathon” – the hour-long specials “I Eat 33,000 calories a day,” “Half-Ton Teen,” “Half-Ton Mom,” and “Half-Ton Dad” (not all in the same family), and my personal favorite, “The 650-lb Virgin,” – all of which I watched while eating pizza and cake. Ironic? Let’s ask Alanis Morissette.
[Sidebar: My office is freakishly quiet. What could these people be doing when we don’t even have access to the server? Clearly I have no work ethic]
Oh, guys, I just got the latest e-newsletter of New Voices Magazine – “THE magazine for Jewish students.”
Today’s message includes:
Don't you love the Holocaust?
Your movie theater does. Marked as "Oscar bait" whenever they come out, movies about the Final Solution have multiplied since Jerry Seinfeld made out during "Schindler's List" 17 years ago. Now Quentin Tarantino has decided to do the Jewish film execs one better, producing a spaghetti western starring the Juden. Miriam Mogilevsky takes a closer look.
But why worry about the Holocaust when Israel is on the eve of destruction? Sam Green reviews Rich Cohen's "Israel Is Real."
Don't let that get you down, though, because H&M is moving to Israel, says Beth Zalcman, and Americans should too.
Jewish media. No conspiracy.
THE site for Jewish college students.
Enjoy!
I don’t know why I get this magazine, or how I get on an email list in the first place. Is this some remnant of my relationship with the Israeli vegan investment banker? Did some audience member recall a bit in which I said “I can’t pass over those matzoh balls” and sign me up? Who knows. All I know is, I can’t put it down!!
Okay, it’s now 12:09pm and we’re finally back online. Time to earn my keep!
Since last I blogged, things have been mostly copacetic. Christmas was spent seated in a recliner wearing an electric blanket (my one and only present from Santa) and watching “Taken,” starring Liam Neeson. I love action films, and came away with one vital piece of information: I have a deep-seated desire for Liam Neeson to be my real-life dad. Well, that, and never give a random TMI, or you’ll end up sex-trafficked, on a boat bound for the United Arab Emirates.
After Christmas, blacktress headed into the flurry of excitement that is the 7 days of Kwanzaa – which, as you all know, is Swahili for “After-Christmas sales.” Mother and I celebrated right, getting 40% off items at Banana Republic.
(I’m sorry, is it just me, or is any holiday invented by a dude named Ron in 1966 somewhat suspect? I just don’t know if I buy it. Plus, doesn’t “kinara” – in which the kwanzaa candles are held – sound a lot like ‘menorah’ + ‘kwanzaa’? You can’t call it your own and jack it from the Jews, people!)
I was thrown for a loop when, on 12/30, I received a facebook invite from the college bf to whom I lost my virginity. He’s still in purgatory, mostly because I don’t know how to handle this. While he’s a swell fella who I have no drama with (I know, a huge surprise!), I don’t know if he needs access to my f-book. I live my life by a few simple rules, one of which is: You can’t poke me on facebook after you’ve poked me in real life. Call me old fashioned, but it’s just how I roll.
I rang in 2010 with an uneventful mini-makeout session, only made more uneventful by the dude’s lack of follow-through. However, my most recent redheaded crush has lifted, as he had the gall – nay, the audacity - not to speak to a blacktress when she was looking hella good (you know, like the Gwen Stefani song). I realized that an imaginary relationship can only last so long if one party refuses to engage in conversation. I’m not cultivating crazy in 2010 – save the drama for Obama!
I was able to engage in many TV marathons, including Discovery Health’s “fat marathon” – the hour-long specials “I Eat 33,000 calories a day,” “Half-Ton Teen,” “Half-Ton Mom,” and “Half-Ton Dad” (not all in the same family), and my personal favorite, “The 650-lb Virgin,” – all of which I watched while eating pizza and cake. Ironic? Let’s ask Alanis Morissette.
[Sidebar: My office is freakishly quiet. What could these people be doing when we don’t even have access to the server? Clearly I have no work ethic]
Oh, guys, I just got the latest e-newsletter of New Voices Magazine – “THE magazine for Jewish students.”
Today’s message includes:
Don't you love the Holocaust?
Your movie theater does. Marked as "Oscar bait" whenever they come out, movies about the Final Solution have multiplied since Jerry Seinfeld made out during "Schindler's List" 17 years ago. Now Quentin Tarantino has decided to do the Jewish film execs one better, producing a spaghetti western starring the Juden. Miriam Mogilevsky takes a closer look.
But why worry about the Holocaust when Israel is on the eve of destruction? Sam Green reviews Rich Cohen's "Israel Is Real."
Don't let that get you down, though, because H&M is moving to Israel, says Beth Zalcman, and Americans should too.
Jewish media. No conspiracy.
THE site for Jewish college students.
Enjoy!
I don’t know why I get this magazine, or how I get on an email list in the first place. Is this some remnant of my relationship with the Israeli vegan investment banker? Did some audience member recall a bit in which I said “I can’t pass over those matzoh balls” and sign me up? Who knows. All I know is, I can’t put it down!!
Okay, it’s now 12:09pm and we’re finally back online. Time to earn my keep!
Monday, December 21, 2009
A Weekend to Remember - RIP Brittany!
I lost my cell phone this weekend and was freaking the F out. Somehow, between texting and making a call at 11:12am on Saturday morning, and getting on the train at 11:32am, I lost my damn phone. Around 5pm, a blizzard began as I headed to Queens to babysit. After tending to two young Caucasian males (I believe in starting the brainwashing early), I headed over to a friend’s house in the treacherous weather. As I walked in the Big Apple-turned-life-sized-snowglobe, I was tense and anxious. I felt like, without my cell, I was a walking target. I just knew that Saturday night would be the night I was stalked by a serial rapist, simply because I had no ability to call for help. I was acting like, prior to this moment, I had been living in a T-Mobile-created protective force field, and the only thing between me and survival was 2 bars.
Just when I thought the weekend could get no crazier, as I was perpetually late for things on Sunday, and slipping on black ice, I was informed of the death of Brittany Murphy Sunday evening. I am still reeling. This is just one more icon of our youth who has left us. At only 32, death from a heart attack seems completely insane in the membrane. Alas, the heart attack was the result of severe anorexia. Remember in Girl, Interrupted when she kept all the chicken under her bed???? WHY DIDN’T YOU EAT THAT CHICKEN, BRITTANY?!
Can we just talk about Brittany’s effect on every 20-something walking around today? When she appeared as Tai in Clueless, the newbie through which we viewed the world of California rich kids Cher and Dionne, she was instantly likeable. Her makeover – complete with baby tee and corduroy skirt – was the jam and the jumpoff (and the inspiration for much of my 6th grade wardrobe). And let’s not mention her lines, some of which were the greatest in film history:
- “Cher, I don't want to do this anymore. And my buns: they don't feel nothin' like steel.”
- "You know, I don't care either way — just as long as his you-know-what isn't crooked." – When the film came out, I was too young to know that this was a very real possibility, and I’m now too old not to know exactly where she’s coming from.
- “If I’m too good for him, then why aren’t I with him???” This is a line I’ve used many a-time in my personal life. Oh, Britt, you were forever asking the hard-hitting questions.
And, of course, the best ever: “You’re a virgin who can’t drive.”
Burn of the THIRD DEGREE.
After Clueless, she went on to lock it down in various films, with her wide eyes and Betty Boop vibe. I must say, I even loved her in 8 Mile.
I’m gonna have to pour a bit of my cranberry juice on the ground in remembrance tonight – or, wait, maybe I should put down some food, give Brittany a little nourishment.
Dear Britt,
I hope you are ROLLING WITH YOUR HOMIES in the sky, and know that I’ll be thinking of you – I HOPE NOT SPORADICALLY! The way you sang the Mentos theme song changed my life. When I was younger, I totally wished someone would have taken me out of my flannel and put me in some cute outfits while Jill Sobule played in the background. You are one of my idols. I will eat twice as much for you today.
Xoxo,
Sojo
Let’s check out Brittany at her best:
Just when I thought the weekend could get no crazier, as I was perpetually late for things on Sunday, and slipping on black ice, I was informed of the death of Brittany Murphy Sunday evening. I am still reeling. This is just one more icon of our youth who has left us. At only 32, death from a heart attack seems completely insane in the membrane. Alas, the heart attack was the result of severe anorexia. Remember in Girl, Interrupted when she kept all the chicken under her bed???? WHY DIDN’T YOU EAT THAT CHICKEN, BRITTANY?!
Can we just talk about Brittany’s effect on every 20-something walking around today? When she appeared as Tai in Clueless, the newbie through which we viewed the world of California rich kids Cher and Dionne, she was instantly likeable. Her makeover – complete with baby tee and corduroy skirt – was the jam and the jumpoff (and the inspiration for much of my 6th grade wardrobe). And let’s not mention her lines, some of which were the greatest in film history:
- “Cher, I don't want to do this anymore. And my buns: they don't feel nothin' like steel.”
- "You know, I don't care either way — just as long as his you-know-what isn't crooked." – When the film came out, I was too young to know that this was a very real possibility, and I’m now too old not to know exactly where she’s coming from.
- “If I’m too good for him, then why aren’t I with him???” This is a line I’ve used many a-time in my personal life. Oh, Britt, you were forever asking the hard-hitting questions.
And, of course, the best ever: “You’re a virgin who can’t drive.”
Burn of the THIRD DEGREE.
After Clueless, she went on to lock it down in various films, with her wide eyes and Betty Boop vibe. I must say, I even loved her in 8 Mile.
I’m gonna have to pour a bit of my cranberry juice on the ground in remembrance tonight – or, wait, maybe I should put down some food, give Brittany a little nourishment.
Dear Britt,
I hope you are ROLLING WITH YOUR HOMIES in the sky, and know that I’ll be thinking of you – I HOPE NOT SPORADICALLY! The way you sang the Mentos theme song changed my life. When I was younger, I totally wished someone would have taken me out of my flannel and put me in some cute outfits while Jill Sobule played in the background. You are one of my idols. I will eat twice as much for you today.
Xoxo,
Sojo
Let’s check out Brittany at her best:
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
It’s cool, not trying to put a rush on you…
But I gotta let you know that I got a crush on… well, not you, this other dude.
Guys, I am totes crushin’ like a 14 year old. There’s this actor who was, like, made for me. FOR ME.
He is 6’4”, he has red hair (holla at a genetic anomaly!), and he is so pasty pale that he is damn near translucent.
He is so lacking in pigment that he appears to have no eyebrows or eyelashes – how does he fight off debris?! What about sweat?! He’s a medical marvel, and I must now how he survives. Maybe’s he’s one of the X-Men or something.
His skin is like porcelain, and looks as soft and smooth as vanilla pudding.
His hair is the color of honey and strawberry jam mixed together
His eyes are as blue as the ocean and the sky - no, the horizon line, where the ocean and sky meet
I am going on about his physical appearance because I have yet to speak to him for more than 2 seconds.
I met him through a mutual friend a couple months ago, and he seemed kinda cold, but this could be because our friend put me on blast, mentioning that when he and I first met, I hugged him and proclaimed, “you will be my winter spoon.” It wasn’t quite the impression I’d hoped to make, but I shook it off.
But I couldn’t get him off of my mind.
I think I know how Bella must have felt the first time she saw Edward.
This past weekend, a friend of mine told me she ran into this same redhead at a party and he referred to me as “a beautiful black woman.” HOLY SHIT.
Needless to say, the flame was rekindled.
I saw him last night at a party, and he was looking as good as ever, all pasty and piercing, with those eyes of his. It would have been a great time to walk up and say hello, now that I was armed with the knowledge that he was down with the brown. However, I was held back by the fact that, whenever I’m surrounded by improvisers, actors, and/or comedians, I become mildly autistic, painfully self-conscious, and my tongue turns to lead. Add that the fact that I wasn’t drinking, and you pretty much have me at the age of 13.
So, instead of re-introducing myself, saying hello, or complimenting him on his show like the strong black woman that I am, I just stared at him longingly/mildly creepily at random moments. This didn’t really bother me at first, because I know deep in my heart that I don’t need to date anyone at all right now, and if I never speak to him, he can never fail me (we all know how I emo I get when things don’t go well).
But after a while I realized that I was basically eye-fucking the poor pasty chap without consent, and the ultimate closure would be to speak to him and realize that he’s racist or something equally deal-breaking so I could stop idealizing. So, in an attempt to close the chapter on what was becoming my own personal Twilight, I told my friend about my crush and asked him what I should do. I believe my exact phraseology was, “How can I get in with ___? And by ‘get in with,’ I don’t mean his P in my V as much as a real conversation.” His advice was threefold:
-Mention Guns N Roses
-Tell him you’re Jewish
-Play with his elbow skin.
The last one was a mockery of my personal penchant for pinching elbow skin (weird, I know. Accept it.), and was just another way to set me up for embarrassment. Based on the first two suggestions, however, it would seem that so far my crush and I have absolutely nothing in common. This won’t stop me from an introduction, though. I’m thinking:
“When I was a little girl in Addis Ababa – I’m an Ethiopian Jew – I remember seeing Guns and Roses on the MTV VMA’s in 1992. Slash’s solo…. Am I right?”
I don’t know anything about said solo, but I’ll let him fill in the blank and get the ball rolling. A conversation is, after all, a two-way street… one that you pave over and construct manipulative roadblocks on to lead the driver (your crush) into the tunnel of LOVE.
I mean, whatever. It's just (just) a little crush (crush) - not like I faint every time we touch.
If you don't know what that line is from, let me take you back to the late 90s, friend.
Guys, I am totes crushin’ like a 14 year old. There’s this actor who was, like, made for me. FOR ME.
He is 6’4”, he has red hair (holla at a genetic anomaly!), and he is so pasty pale that he is damn near translucent.
He is so lacking in pigment that he appears to have no eyebrows or eyelashes – how does he fight off debris?! What about sweat?! He’s a medical marvel, and I must now how he survives. Maybe’s he’s one of the X-Men or something.
His skin is like porcelain, and looks as soft and smooth as vanilla pudding.
His hair is the color of honey and strawberry jam mixed together
His eyes are as blue as the ocean and the sky - no, the horizon line, where the ocean and sky meet
I am going on about his physical appearance because I have yet to speak to him for more than 2 seconds.
I met him through a mutual friend a couple months ago, and he seemed kinda cold, but this could be because our friend put me on blast, mentioning that when he and I first met, I hugged him and proclaimed, “you will be my winter spoon.” It wasn’t quite the impression I’d hoped to make, but I shook it off.
But I couldn’t get him off of my mind.
I think I know how Bella must have felt the first time she saw Edward.
This past weekend, a friend of mine told me she ran into this same redhead at a party and he referred to me as “a beautiful black woman.” HOLY SHIT.
Needless to say, the flame was rekindled.
I saw him last night at a party, and he was looking as good as ever, all pasty and piercing, with those eyes of his. It would have been a great time to walk up and say hello, now that I was armed with the knowledge that he was down with the brown. However, I was held back by the fact that, whenever I’m surrounded by improvisers, actors, and/or comedians, I become mildly autistic, painfully self-conscious, and my tongue turns to lead. Add that the fact that I wasn’t drinking, and you pretty much have me at the age of 13.
So, instead of re-introducing myself, saying hello, or complimenting him on his show like the strong black woman that I am, I just stared at him longingly/mildly creepily at random moments. This didn’t really bother me at first, because I know deep in my heart that I don’t need to date anyone at all right now, and if I never speak to him, he can never fail me (we all know how I emo I get when things don’t go well).
But after a while I realized that I was basically eye-fucking the poor pasty chap without consent, and the ultimate closure would be to speak to him and realize that he’s racist or something equally deal-breaking so I could stop idealizing. So, in an attempt to close the chapter on what was becoming my own personal Twilight, I told my friend about my crush and asked him what I should do. I believe my exact phraseology was, “How can I get in with ___? And by ‘get in with,’ I don’t mean his P in my V as much as a real conversation.” His advice was threefold:
-Mention Guns N Roses
-Tell him you’re Jewish
-Play with his elbow skin.
The last one was a mockery of my personal penchant for pinching elbow skin (weird, I know. Accept it.), and was just another way to set me up for embarrassment. Based on the first two suggestions, however, it would seem that so far my crush and I have absolutely nothing in common. This won’t stop me from an introduction, though. I’m thinking:
“When I was a little girl in Addis Ababa – I’m an Ethiopian Jew – I remember seeing Guns and Roses on the MTV VMA’s in 1992. Slash’s solo…. Am I right?”
I don’t know anything about said solo, but I’ll let him fill in the blank and get the ball rolling. A conversation is, after all, a two-way street… one that you pave over and construct manipulative roadblocks on to lead the driver (your crush) into the tunnel of LOVE.
I mean, whatever. It's just (just) a little crush (crush) - not like I faint every time we touch.
If you don't know what that line is from, let me take you back to the late 90s, friend.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Teaching tools
Ok, so I'm supposed to be watching 'Teen Mom' right now, but I don't have MTV access at the moment - but don't worry, I'll holla at it from the plantation and live blog it for you ASAP.
In penance, I bring to you the finest song of our time (brought to my attention by JJSiii). You have to listen to it.
I think this should be a teaching tool for Teach for America newbies everywhere - and even the old pros like Sorcia McNasty. You've got to speak to the inner city youth in the language they know - the language of hip hop. If you need proof, just watch "Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit." This song teaches wayward youth to do the basics: read a book, brush their teeth, and drink water - you need it! I think our literacy rates would increase tenfold if we had Project Mayhem making the lesson plans.
I am so obsessed with this song, I'm buying it a present for Kwanzaa.
In penance, I bring to you the finest song of our time (brought to my attention by JJSiii). You have to listen to it.
I think this should be a teaching tool for Teach for America newbies everywhere - and even the old pros like Sorcia McNasty. You've got to speak to the inner city youth in the language they know - the language of hip hop. If you need proof, just watch "Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit." This song teaches wayward youth to do the basics: read a book, brush their teeth, and drink water - you need it! I think our literacy rates would increase tenfold if we had Project Mayhem making the lesson plans.
I am so obsessed with this song, I'm buying it a present for Kwanzaa.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Birthdays With Artists
Today is the day of my birth. I have no plans, but I’m doing fine with it – mostly because I received a crazy artist email today, the first since I've been back on this plantation. It made me quite happy, to know that some things haven’t changed. Here it is (completely unedited, except for identifying info- in other words, the typos are all real):
SOJOURNER--- I am contacting you because I think you are a 'brilliant 'writer'.I read a few of you artist-of -the- month-essays.I was deeply impressed.You see, SOJO, I am a artist/author.My name is S___.As I mentioned to [your boss] I would be elated if you would write an article about my art/lit life.
My urban sci-fi-novel [INSERT VAGUELY SEXUAL TITLE HERE] was published in 2008. There are 52 illustration in the novel that I created .(Would love for you to post a review about the book at Amazon.com).
I almost forgot: I am a African-American male.I told [your boss] my bucket list is to be featured in [your] magazine before i die.(Maybe you can help?)
Sojourner go to my website:www.I AM CRAZY AND INTENSE.com to see myart work.My genre is sports,jazz and Americana.I would love for you to do a story on my sports paintings.I think the one of Kobe and MJ----has the metaphysical energy of a Caravaggio(my favorite old master---not saying I,m that good).
You look about my daughters age.I am proud of you.I would be delighted in the future if we could do a joint-venture.Maybe a large coffee table book titled: "THE PAINTINGS OF ARTIIST/AUTHOR:HOT MESS.
SOJOURNER ---- in closing-I would be elated if you could do a featured piece on me in [your magazine].
I wish you a merry Christmas and Happy New year.
Artist/author
CRAY CRAY
Oh my god, this is the best birthday present ever! I have been called a brilliant writer – in quotation marks, implying that I’m not at all! He even puts writer in quotes separately, implying that maybe he thinks I don’t even write.
He almost forgot he was an African-American male, and I forget I’m an African-American female ALL THE TIME – we’re so close!
HE’S PROUD OF ME!!!! Oh my god, what if this is my dad, writing in disguise? Maybe he hasn’t been around cause he was writing urban sci fi? Holy shit, I smell my book deal.
Happy birthday to me.
Xoxo,
blacktress
Sojo's note: the guy's website has an 'erotica' section. ew!
SOJOURNER--- I am contacting you because I think you are a 'brilliant 'writer'.I read a few of you artist-of -the- month-essays.I was deeply impressed.You see, SOJO, I am a artist/author.My name is S___.As I mentioned to [your boss] I would be elated if you would write an article about my art/lit life.
My urban sci-fi-novel [INSERT VAGUELY SEXUAL TITLE HERE] was published in 2008. There are 52 illustration in the novel that I created .(Would love for you to post a review about the book at Amazon.com).
I almost forgot: I am a African-American male.I told [your boss] my bucket list is to be featured in [your] magazine before i die.(Maybe you can help?)
Sojourner go to my website:www.I AM CRAZY AND INTENSE.com to see myart work.My genre is sports,jazz and Americana.I would love for you to do a story on my sports paintings.I think the one of Kobe and MJ----has the metaphysical energy of a Caravaggio(my favorite old master---not saying I,m that good).
You look about my daughters age.I am proud of you.I would be delighted in the future if we could do a joint-venture.Maybe a large coffee table book titled: "THE PAINTINGS OF ARTIIST/AUTHOR:HOT MESS.
SOJOURNER ---- in closing-I would be elated if you could do a featured piece on me in [your magazine].
I wish you a merry Christmas and Happy New year.
Artist/author
CRAY CRAY
Oh my god, this is the best birthday present ever! I have been called a brilliant writer – in quotation marks, implying that I’m not at all! He even puts writer in quotes separately, implying that maybe he thinks I don’t even write.
He almost forgot he was an African-American male, and I forget I’m an African-American female ALL THE TIME – we’re so close!
HE’S PROUD OF ME!!!! Oh my god, what if this is my dad, writing in disguise? Maybe he hasn’t been around cause he was writing urban sci fi? Holy shit, I smell my book deal.
Happy birthday to me.
Xoxo,
blacktress
Sojo's note: the guy's website has an 'erotica' section. ew!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
TEEN MOM!
As I ate my oatmeal this morning, I received the best news ever - in commercial form.
Next Tuesday, at 10pm, MTV will premiere its new show TEEN MOM, where we follow the gals from last season's "16 and Pregnant" as they attempt to raise their children. I AM SO EXCITED. I HAVE MISSED THESE GIRLS SO MUCH.
Highlights from the commercial include Catelynn's new haircut (she and Tyler are still together!); Amber choking Gary and saying, "Don't you ever talk to my daddy that way!"; and Maci saying "I would have never lost my virginity to someone who I thought could treat me this way," as we see her baby daddy at the club dancing with some chick.
THIS IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD. For those of you who "have lives" and are "too cool to watch it," just you wait for the live blog.
Next Tuesday, at 10pm, MTV will premiere its new show TEEN MOM, where we follow the gals from last season's "16 and Pregnant" as they attempt to raise their children. I AM SO EXCITED. I HAVE MISSED THESE GIRLS SO MUCH.
Highlights from the commercial include Catelynn's new haircut (she and Tyler are still together!); Amber choking Gary and saying, "Don't you ever talk to my daddy that way!"; and Maci saying "I would have never lost my virginity to someone who I thought could treat me this way," as we see her baby daddy at the club dancing with some chick.
THIS IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD. For those of you who "have lives" and are "too cool to watch it," just you wait for the live blog.
Monday, November 16, 2009
I will NOT be making the same mistakes in 2010!
Okay, y’all, I think I am officially over foreign dudes. They lack the boundaries my American self is accustomed to, and it’s not cute.
Saturday night, I got the following facebook message from my Swedish paramour – you know, the one from the worst New Year’s Eve night ever
Subject: :)
Hello there!
I hope you are doing great, and that you foot has heeled by now ;)
Just letting you know that Im traveling to New York over a week end in December (4-8th). Im traveling with my girlfreind, but I though Id let you know anyway incase you are in town. Id love to come see your show (if you still do stand up), or maybe meet up for a drink and see some other act, or if your not availible that weekend maybe you could recommand a comedy club that we should check out.
Anyhow, take care now
Not only is that my birthday weekend and sitting home in fetal position is part of my schedule, and cannot be changed around, but I'd rather have my fingernails ripped out by Hannibal Lecter than entertain this fool. Clearly I can say no to this – using either a thoughtful lie or the gospel TRUTH (can he handle it?!). It’s really not that deep, and I will survive like Gloria Gaynor. However, I’d like to just note some things for you gentle readers:
Okay, I’ll start with positive reinforcement:
- Unlike certain redheaded Australians, he at least had the good sense to tell me he was bringing his gf from the outset. Of course, there are no illusions of relationship, and it’s not like I’d try to rekindle that flame and start an F’in forest fire, but at least there will be no misread signals. Good for you, Swede! I think this is due to the fact that he’s a lawyer, and aims to avoid litigation at all costs.
HOWEVER:
- A smiley face icon as a subject is the lamest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re a grown ass man, get it together. Clearly you fear me and would have done better showing up at my door with freshly killed game. At least then, I would have respected you.
- How are you going to ask me about my foot damn near a year after the fact?! Fool, if you don’t know by now, you better ask somebody! This does not retroactively count as kindness and interest. YOU FAIL at being even a minor friend who at least keeps up with facebook updates and comments on the serious ones.
- Why on earth are you trying to meet up with me when you didn’t have the decency to check in and ask me if I could walk again after you put your P in my V on one of the most traumatizing nights of my life? If memory serves, he also chose to ask me to hang out on his last night in Sydney, then blew me off in a most unsavory manner. If memory will serve me seconds, I also recall landing in his home country in May and him not moving a beefy muscle to meet up. If this isn’t just another example of white male hubris – nay, OVERWEENING PRIDE – then I don’t know what is! What was that saying about giving an inch and taking an ell? I think that was applied to the wrong race!
It’s also quite curious that he’d think I’d want him to see me do stand up – what if I put him on blast in front of the gf? That’d actually be quite hilarious. But I won’t, it’d just be too wrong. I wonder how he’s explained her to me. “Oh, honey, I have this blacktress friend in NYC who might take us out one night.” Chile, please! I am friends with you like I’m friends with Jenna Bush.
Which is to say, not at all, and there’s even some ire there.
In summation, what you can take from this is this, gentle readers: don’t think that just because you do the dirty on the other side of the world that that ish won’t come back to bite you on the ass. You can’t get rid of a mistake in this LinkedIn, Facebookin’ world, where every damn Tom, Dick, or Swede wants to be up in MySpace, asking me to play tour guide. Why didn’t you want a guide when I was trying to tell you how my parts worked, dude?! Let’s talk about that!
Saturday night, I got the following facebook message from my Swedish paramour – you know, the one from the worst New Year’s Eve night ever
Subject: :)
Hello there!
I hope you are doing great, and that you foot has heeled by now ;)
Just letting you know that Im traveling to New York over a week end in December (4-8th). Im traveling with my girlfreind, but I though Id let you know anyway incase you are in town. Id love to come see your show (if you still do stand up), or maybe meet up for a drink and see some other act, or if your not availible that weekend maybe you could recommand a comedy club that we should check out.
Anyhow, take care now
Not only is that my birthday weekend and sitting home in fetal position is part of my schedule, and cannot be changed around, but I'd rather have my fingernails ripped out by Hannibal Lecter than entertain this fool. Clearly I can say no to this – using either a thoughtful lie or the gospel TRUTH (can he handle it?!). It’s really not that deep, and I will survive like Gloria Gaynor. However, I’d like to just note some things for you gentle readers:
Okay, I’ll start with positive reinforcement:
- Unlike certain redheaded Australians, he at least had the good sense to tell me he was bringing his gf from the outset. Of course, there are no illusions of relationship, and it’s not like I’d try to rekindle that flame and start an F’in forest fire, but at least there will be no misread signals. Good for you, Swede! I think this is due to the fact that he’s a lawyer, and aims to avoid litigation at all costs.
HOWEVER:
- A smiley face icon as a subject is the lamest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re a grown ass man, get it together. Clearly you fear me and would have done better showing up at my door with freshly killed game. At least then, I would have respected you.
- How are you going to ask me about my foot damn near a year after the fact?! Fool, if you don’t know by now, you better ask somebody! This does not retroactively count as kindness and interest. YOU FAIL at being even a minor friend who at least keeps up with facebook updates and comments on the serious ones.
- Why on earth are you trying to meet up with me when you didn’t have the decency to check in and ask me if I could walk again after you put your P in my V on one of the most traumatizing nights of my life? If memory serves, he also chose to ask me to hang out on his last night in Sydney, then blew me off in a most unsavory manner. If memory will serve me seconds, I also recall landing in his home country in May and him not moving a beefy muscle to meet up. If this isn’t just another example of white male hubris – nay, OVERWEENING PRIDE – then I don’t know what is! What was that saying about giving an inch and taking an ell? I think that was applied to the wrong race!
It’s also quite curious that he’d think I’d want him to see me do stand up – what if I put him on blast in front of the gf? That’d actually be quite hilarious. But I won’t, it’d just be too wrong. I wonder how he’s explained her to me. “Oh, honey, I have this blacktress friend in NYC who might take us out one night.” Chile, please! I am friends with you like I’m friends with Jenna Bush.
Which is to say, not at all, and there’s even some ire there.
In summation, what you can take from this is this, gentle readers: don’t think that just because you do the dirty on the other side of the world that that ish won’t come back to bite you on the ass. You can’t get rid of a mistake in this LinkedIn, Facebookin’ world, where every damn Tom, Dick, or Swede wants to be up in MySpace, asking me to play tour guide. Why didn’t you want a guide when I was trying to tell you how my parts worked, dude?! Let’s talk about that!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Working Girl!
I'm breaking the writer's block by creating fiction. This way, when my life gets too boring or too tragic, I'm not at a loss. Here is the first installment.
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!
Working Girl!
A true work of fiction.
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!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Poetry In Motion
Hey Gang,
I've got no particular reason to blog at the moment, but I felt compelled to do so because I AM ON A MOVING BUS, BOUND FOR BOSTON.
I am blogging on a bus!
Technology is fucking insane in the membrane.
Just when I was finally mastering and accepting the iPod as a concept, here comes Bolt Bus, with it's free wifi and outlets at every seat. All this, for only $15!!! Holla at a recessionista! I'm heading to Boston to clear my head and reconnect with my main gay, JJSiii. Nothing says "I'm over you and doing me" like Cape Cods on Cape Cod!
Anyway, while I'm here (CAUSE I CAN BE), I guess I'll give you a follow-up to the bicycle random.
So, I threw out his card but remembered his name, so I could find out who the heck this crazy was. I found him on facebook and it turns out we have a mutual friend - a girl I went to school with. I had to know how she knew him - was she, too, a victim of his cycling? Just last night, she appeared on my gchat list. Here's the scoop:
BLACKTRESS: GIRL!!!
i have something very random and important to ask you
[a few minutes go by, i briefly leave the computer]
WOMAN: this sounds like it mite b spam
Blacktress: so, basically, i was bothered on the street by this guy
he wouldn't leave me alone until i took his card
i'm not interested, cause he was mildly predatory, but i had to look him up. you came up as one of his friends on facebook/our mutual friend. i must know how you know this character
his name is Marc W
Woman: ewwww
hes my uncles friend dont call him
Woman: he facebkd me, but i dont really know him
Blacktress: oh good god
your uncle's friend
girl, you need to read the transcript of our conversation
i was real pissed and angry with this fool
followed me ON HIS BIKE
i had to make him go away cause i was almost at my door and didn't want him to know where i lived!
Woman: yea, he is stalkerish, he tried to get me to cook him dinner for like 2 yrs
Blacktress: oh my god
girl, this is too good
the insanity
Woman: he helpd me w/ my resume like 1 time... borderline insane
hes like functional psycho
that sucks tho,im srry
Blacktress: you just painted the very picture i expected
Woman: i thnk the bike is a midlife crisis thing
OMFG, guys! Homey is her uncle's friend!!! She's a grown woman like me, so her uncle has to be nearing retirement. This would put this guy in the 40-something range AT LEAST, right? He helped her with a resume and kept asking her to make him dinnner???? What a weirdo!
Thank god I'm on a bus outta town. The men in NYC are toxic - and not in the fun, Britney way.
I've got no particular reason to blog at the moment, but I felt compelled to do so because I AM ON A MOVING BUS, BOUND FOR BOSTON.
I am blogging on a bus!
Technology is fucking insane in the membrane.
Just when I was finally mastering and accepting the iPod as a concept, here comes Bolt Bus, with it's free wifi and outlets at every seat. All this, for only $15!!! Holla at a recessionista! I'm heading to Boston to clear my head and reconnect with my main gay, JJSiii. Nothing says "I'm over you and doing me" like Cape Cods on Cape Cod!
Anyway, while I'm here (CAUSE I CAN BE), I guess I'll give you a follow-up to the bicycle random.
So, I threw out his card but remembered his name, so I could find out who the heck this crazy was. I found him on facebook and it turns out we have a mutual friend - a girl I went to school with. I had to know how she knew him - was she, too, a victim of his cycling? Just last night, she appeared on my gchat list. Here's the scoop:
BLACKTRESS: GIRL!!!
i have something very random and important to ask you
[a few minutes go by, i briefly leave the computer]
WOMAN: this sounds like it mite b spam
Blacktress: so, basically, i was bothered on the street by this guy
he wouldn't leave me alone until i took his card
i'm not interested, cause he was mildly predatory, but i had to look him up. you came up as one of his friends on facebook/our mutual friend. i must know how you know this character
his name is Marc W
Woman: ewwww
hes my uncles friend dont call him
Woman: he facebkd me, but i dont really know him
Blacktress: oh good god
your uncle's friend
girl, you need to read the transcript of our conversation
i was real pissed and angry with this fool
followed me ON HIS BIKE
i had to make him go away cause i was almost at my door and didn't want him to know where i lived!
Woman: yea, he is stalkerish, he tried to get me to cook him dinner for like 2 yrs
Blacktress: oh my god
girl, this is too good
the insanity
Woman: he helpd me w/ my resume like 1 time... borderline insane
hes like functional psycho
that sucks tho,im srry
Blacktress: you just painted the very picture i expected
Woman: i thnk the bike is a midlife crisis thing
OMFG, guys! Homey is her uncle's friend!!! She's a grown woman like me, so her uncle has to be nearing retirement. This would put this guy in the 40-something range AT LEAST, right? He helped her with a resume and kept asking her to make him dinnner???? What a weirdo!
Thank god I'm on a bus outta town. The men in NYC are toxic - and not in the fun, Britney way.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Playa, Please!
I came home from meeting idol/future life partner Augusten Burroughs last night and was semi-bummed out and also very hungry. I figured I could cure both of these ailments by purchasing ice cream and cookies, and then consuming them. As I headed to my crib from the store, a random on a bicycle said hello. Being a bitter New York City born-and-bred hag, clearly I ignored him. Moments later, he reappeared.
Random On Bicycle: Did my saying hello offend you?
Blacktress (rolling eyes): No, but you following me is now creeping me out.
ROB: I'm sorry. Can I get your name?
Blacktress: No.
ROB: Why not?
Blacktress (sighing): Please, leave me alone. I am not in the mood.
ROB: I just want to say hi.
Blacktress: Don't. I'm mean.
ROB: Mean people don't usually say they're mean.
Blacktress: I'm very self-aware.
ROB: Self-aware of what?
Blacktress: Um, myself.
ROB: You're not from New York, are you?
Blacktress: Yes, I am.
ROB: Harlem? You don't seem like it.
Blacktress: Um...
ROB: I'm from Harlem, too, on the East Side. I'm going over there now, to my aunt's house.
Blacktress: Well, you should get there now.
ROB: I'm gonna put up her curtains. Or drapes. One of those.
Blacktress: Well, you should hurry up.
ROB: With this thing [he gestures towards his bike.] it doesn't take any time.
There is a pause. Dude is still following me and we're mere steps from my door. I can't have him know where I live. My patience is beyond thin.
Blacktress: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
ROB: How about I give you my facebook or my information, and you can contact me.
Blacktress: No, I'm not going to do that.
ROB: Is because of how we're meeting.
Blacktress: Among other things, yes. But mostly cause I don't want to be bothered. I'm not in the mood for this foolishness.
ROB: Well then, why don't you let me contact you. Can I have your facebook?
Blacktress: NO!
[For some reason he finds my shouting endearing, and I'm getting more and more annoyed]
Blacktress: Look, I'm almost home, and I'd like you to stop following me. What can I do to get you to leave me alone?
ROB: Why don't you take my information.
Blacktress: Fine.
He gets off the bike, searches in his FANNY PACK for his business card. He then finds a pen. He flips the card over and begins to write.
Blacktress: This is taking too long. I've got ice cream in this bag and it's not going to eat itself.
ROB: I'm giving you my personal email. [beat] That's funny. I got ice cream at home, too. It's Tofutti.
Blacktress: Oh god, stop writing, I'm done.
ROB: It's dairy free.
Blacktress: I know what Tofutti is.
ROB: Did you have braces, or are your teeth naturally like that?
Blacktress: I had braces twice.
He laughs, as though I just said something hilarious.
ROB: I like your glasses, they're cute.
He hands me the card.
Blacktress: OK.
ROB: Can I get your name?
Blacktress: No.
ROB extends his hand for a handshake.
Blacktress: No.
ROB: No?
Blacktress: It's swine flu season. Can you please go now?
ROB: Ok. Looking forward to hearing from you.
He bikes away and I continue walking forward. I look back and see he's still going, going, gone, so I double back and head in my door.
Good lord, can't a blacktress just come home on a cold night and not be bothered by a man on a bicycle? I think you all know his business card is in the trash right now. Of course, I'm dying to hyperlink you to his website, but I can't risk him finding the site and then NEVER LEAVING ME ALONE!
Random On Bicycle: Did my saying hello offend you?
Blacktress (rolling eyes): No, but you following me is now creeping me out.
ROB: I'm sorry. Can I get your name?
Blacktress: No.
ROB: Why not?
Blacktress (sighing): Please, leave me alone. I am not in the mood.
ROB: I just want to say hi.
Blacktress: Don't. I'm mean.
ROB: Mean people don't usually say they're mean.
Blacktress: I'm very self-aware.
ROB: Self-aware of what?
Blacktress: Um, myself.
ROB: You're not from New York, are you?
Blacktress: Yes, I am.
ROB: Harlem? You don't seem like it.
Blacktress: Um...
ROB: I'm from Harlem, too, on the East Side. I'm going over there now, to my aunt's house.
Blacktress: Well, you should get there now.
ROB: I'm gonna put up her curtains. Or drapes. One of those.
Blacktress: Well, you should hurry up.
ROB: With this thing [he gestures towards his bike.] it doesn't take any time.
There is a pause. Dude is still following me and we're mere steps from my door. I can't have him know where I live. My patience is beyond thin.
Blacktress: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
ROB: How about I give you my facebook or my information, and you can contact me.
Blacktress: No, I'm not going to do that.
ROB: Is because of how we're meeting.
Blacktress: Among other things, yes. But mostly cause I don't want to be bothered. I'm not in the mood for this foolishness.
ROB: Well then, why don't you let me contact you. Can I have your facebook?
Blacktress: NO!
[For some reason he finds my shouting endearing, and I'm getting more and more annoyed]
Blacktress: Look, I'm almost home, and I'd like you to stop following me. What can I do to get you to leave me alone?
ROB: Why don't you take my information.
Blacktress: Fine.
He gets off the bike, searches in his FANNY PACK for his business card. He then finds a pen. He flips the card over and begins to write.
Blacktress: This is taking too long. I've got ice cream in this bag and it's not going to eat itself.
ROB: I'm giving you my personal email. [beat] That's funny. I got ice cream at home, too. It's Tofutti.
Blacktress: Oh god, stop writing, I'm done.
ROB: It's dairy free.
Blacktress: I know what Tofutti is.
ROB: Did you have braces, or are your teeth naturally like that?
Blacktress: I had braces twice.
He laughs, as though I just said something hilarious.
ROB: I like your glasses, they're cute.
He hands me the card.
Blacktress: OK.
ROB: Can I get your name?
Blacktress: No.
ROB extends his hand for a handshake.
Blacktress: No.
ROB: No?
Blacktress: It's swine flu season. Can you please go now?
ROB: Ok. Looking forward to hearing from you.
He bikes away and I continue walking forward. I look back and see he's still going, going, gone, so I double back and head in my door.
Good lord, can't a blacktress just come home on a cold night and not be bothered by a man on a bicycle? I think you all know his business card is in the trash right now. Of course, I'm dying to hyperlink you to his website, but I can't risk him finding the site and then NEVER LEAVING ME ALONE!
Monday, November 2, 2009
What's Black and White and Red All Over?
The multi-culti staff at The Red House Furniture Store, in North Carolina!
Please watch the youtube video below, which brought to my attention by a fellow woman of color and writer. Join us both on the emotional rollercoaster.
Things to know:
This video was not made as a joke.
This is a real establishment.
AAAHHHH, IT'S SO AMAZING!!! When Richard, aka BIG HEAD, says he likes, "pumping iron, as well as pumping furniture into people's HOOOMMES" I almost wish I had 3-D glasses so I could feel his hands coming towards me.
Ten Gauge is pretty sweet, too.
I like how they added "and hispanic people, too. All people." at the very end. Someone picked that up in post-production, no doubt.
It's good to see local businesses doing their part to combat racism and oppression, while still making me feel unsafe.
Um, you're welcome, gentle readers.
Please watch the youtube video below, which brought to my attention by a fellow woman of color and writer. Join us both on the emotional rollercoaster.
Things to know:
This video was not made as a joke.
This is a real establishment.
AAAHHHH, IT'S SO AMAZING!!! When Richard, aka BIG HEAD, says he likes, "pumping iron, as well as pumping furniture into people's HOOOMMES" I almost wish I had 3-D glasses so I could feel his hands coming towards me.
Ten Gauge is pretty sweet, too.
I like how they added "and hispanic people, too. All people." at the very end. Someone picked that up in post-production, no doubt.
It's good to see local businesses doing their part to combat racism and oppression, while still making me feel unsafe.
Um, you're welcome, gentle readers.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween Y'ALL!
I'll be spending Halloween night in the house, trying to avoid the crazy Carnevale that is NYC on a night of masks and mayhem. However, this doesn't mean I'm without spirit! Check out this oddly shaped man doing his best dance moves in a unitard. It's scarier than anything you'll see on All Hallows Eve:
You know there must be nothing going on in Nebraska when the news can devote over a minute of precious airtime to this dancing queen. They were like, "This just in: A calf was born on Knotts Farm! ... er, now for the pumpkin dance!"
You know there must be nothing going on in Nebraska when the news can devote over a minute of precious airtime to this dancing queen. They were like, "This just in: A calf was born on Knotts Farm! ... er, now for the pumpkin dance!"
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Thanks, Gmail!
Clearly, I'm obsessed with gchat. However, gmail is going above and beyond the call when it comes to answering user queries. When looking into how to remove a contact (most importantly, trying to figure out if the contact, by being removed, would no longer have access to the blacktress), I got the following info from gmail, which really made my day:
1. From your inbox, click the bold link on the left:
"Contacts".
A list pops up with all your groups:
"Friends, Family, Coworkers, Gremlin Trainers, Most Contacted, All Contacts... etc",
2. Select All Contacts.
A list pops up with all your Contacts. You can even search, if thats how deep you roll, but that probably means you have too many contacts and why not just leave that one?
3. Select that person you don't really hate per se, but just don't want to see in your chat status list...
--because you still want to keep her email address...i mean, you never know how this new chick might, as seems to be all too typical with these irish ones, wax insane over the summer and, though you're ashamed, and you know you probably made a big relationship no-no by hooking up with three of her friends at her parents' "renewal of vows" ceremony, whatever the heck that was, you might want to go running, or, more like it, crawling back!--
A window pops up with various options for where to move/what to do with that contact, including: "Show in chat list"
4. Set that contact to: Auto, Always, Never, or Block.
5. Take a deep breath, get some exercise, stay well hydrated, lay off the junk food, look ahead to a beautiful new day, and smile knowing that awful person is off your chat list.
Gmail just cuts me to the core. Irish chicks DO wax insane* over the summer, how did they know??? They also know that, when getting through crazy internet issues, staying hydrated is crucial to coming out on the other side in one piece. I'm wondering if I can start asking google other, non-internet-related queries, see what they come up with.
*what does it mean to "wax insane"? sometimes google is too smart for me to handle!
1. From your inbox, click the bold link on the left:
"Contacts".
A list pops up with all your groups:
"Friends, Family, Coworkers, Gremlin Trainers, Most Contacted, All Contacts... etc",
2. Select All Contacts.
A list pops up with all your Contacts. You can even search, if thats how deep you roll, but that probably means you have too many contacts and why not just leave that one?
3. Select that person you don't really hate per se, but just don't want to see in your chat status list...
--because you still want to keep her email address...i mean, you never know how this new chick might, as seems to be all too typical with these irish ones, wax insane over the summer and, though you're ashamed, and you know you probably made a big relationship no-no by hooking up with three of her friends at her parents' "renewal of vows" ceremony, whatever the heck that was, you might want to go running, or, more like it, crawling back!--
A window pops up with various options for where to move/what to do with that contact, including: "Show in chat list"
4. Set that contact to: Auto, Always, Never, or Block.
5. Take a deep breath, get some exercise, stay well hydrated, lay off the junk food, look ahead to a beautiful new day, and smile knowing that awful person is off your chat list.
Gmail just cuts me to the core. Irish chicks DO wax insane* over the summer, how did they know??? They also know that, when getting through crazy internet issues, staying hydrated is crucial to coming out on the other side in one piece. I'm wondering if I can start asking google other, non-internet-related queries, see what they come up with.
*what does it mean to "wax insane"? sometimes google is too smart for me to handle!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Best of Blacktress
So, I've started giving out my biznass card alot nowadays. With this card, the average random gets my full name, email addy, and blog address. Basically, they could use all these resources to become my double and be me for Halloween.
Clearly, my bloggery is hit or miss at times. I've decided that, for all those who come to the site seeking to hire me for their next major motion picture, I should be able to draw their attention to my funniest of funnies. Until this site gets hard core and has a ".com" URL, I'm going to just create this post.
Best of the Blacktress. Tell your friends.
- Stand up in Sydneytown (you know, so folks know about the international flava!)
- DUSK, a Twilight parody.
- The Original SCORNED WOMAN ECARDS!
- "Why Dawson's Creek Has Made It Impossible For Me To Have a Healthy Relationship. Ever."
(Um, you know it's true.)
- Mondays With Artists
- Heteromanese, Decoded!
Am I missing anything, gentle readers?
OH EM GEE, I'm about to see "Gentlemen Broncos," starring hottie Jemaine Clement from "Flight of the Conchords." Having seen Kristen Schaal (who plays Mel) last nigh, and after meeting Murray last year, I am on my way to collecting the whole cast! If only Brett would stop being so elusive..... Details to follow (and I don't mean the magazine! har har)
Clearly, my bloggery is hit or miss at times. I've decided that, for all those who come to the site seeking to hire me for their next major motion picture, I should be able to draw their attention to my funniest of funnies. Until this site gets hard core and has a ".com" URL, I'm going to just create this post.
Best of the Blacktress. Tell your friends.
- Stand up in Sydneytown (you know, so folks know about the international flava!)
- DUSK, a Twilight parody.
- The Original SCORNED WOMAN ECARDS!
- "Why Dawson's Creek Has Made It Impossible For Me To Have a Healthy Relationship. Ever."
(Um, you know it's true.)
- Mondays With Artists
- Heteromanese, Decoded!
Am I missing anything, gentle readers?
OH EM GEE, I'm about to see "Gentlemen Broncos," starring hottie Jemaine Clement from "Flight of the Conchords." Having seen Kristen Schaal (who plays Mel) last nigh, and after meeting Murray last year, I am on my way to collecting the whole cast! If only Brett would stop being so elusive..... Details to follow (and I don't mean the magazine! har har)
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Casting Call (A Metaphor)
**WARNING: This post is not what you're used to. Read on and bear with the blacktress, or wait for the next post, which will hopefully be funny. **
So, I've been alluding to a certain young gentleman in a few of my October and September posts. And, as is usual for the blacktress -- and, as the hit song goes -- another one bites the dust.
I take these things harder than one probably should. I agonize in ways that, although can be HI-larious (where's my book deal?!), they can also drive me cray. And, I think I've finally figured out why I freak out. This information is nothing new, but as it goes with Sojo, I need to write out the TRUTH for it to set me free.
I am great on first dates. First dates are, for me, similar to an audition. I walk in effortlessly, taking a shot in the dark, and that energy and devil-may-care attitude is appealing. I play with my lines, I swallow my direction whole and give it back, because...well, why not? This person doesn't know what I've got, has nothing to compare my behavior to, and we're just gonna have fun for a couple minutes. Sometimes it doesn't stick, and I don't get the part. But that's usually okay, because I never knew more than those 3 or 4 pages of dialogue I had to audition with.
But then there are the callbacks. The second, third, fourth--and, if i'm lucky, fifth--dates, where I'm getting to know more about what I'm up against. Where I start to imagine myself in the role, see the possibilities, and get excited.
And I become terrified. The stakes are 40 stories high because I actually have a shot. It means he sees something in me that is better than the majority. So the sweat begins. The pacing, the worrying, the babbling. My lines no longer flow, because I've got one eye on the director, checking his response before I continue. Statements previously made with ease now end in question marks.
"I really like Ani Difranco? [Unless that intimidates you, in which case, I won't bring up music at all, and deflect to your interests.]" Things I know in my heart to be true, I become afraid to say, because in the past, it's been the "wrong direction for that character."
Don't get me wrong. My sense of self is strong. I know who I am, and sometimes I'm a hot-ass R. Kelly-style mess, and other times I'm RuPaul fabulous. I cannot change my core, and I don't aim to when I put myself out there. I just see myself as malleable, able to win over all sorts of people--depending on the order in which I choose to show you my range.
Because, when you're in a callback--when you're really being considered--the difference between scoring the role and not getting a phone call comes down to the minutiae. It's not that you don't fit--it's that you don't slide in effortlessly.
It could come down to your height. Or the way the camera captures you. Or the tiniest tick or gesture that, when magnified, suddenly becomes grating. Or it could be the way you turn a phrase that reminds the director of someone they hated, and now, no matter what, there's that association. Or it could simply be the color of your hair. And, although you could dye it (you'd still be yourself, it'd still be your skill), they don't really need you to when the girl two seats down is a natural. And although you've got the goods, they don't quite see you in their big picture.
Remember that this is a metaphor--forming relationships isn't this simple, and the status differences inherent in a director-desperate actor relationship are not always the way the get-to-know-you phase is constructed. And, as most people know, half the battle of "getting to production" is the deep desire to create something in the first place. It's the desire to put up with the difficulties.
So I know these are broad stream-of-consciousness strokes that don't get at the details. But I find the end emotion is similar because, when you consciously date, you present yourself. You package yourself in the most attractive way. You are a product, and you're trying to prove that product's worth. The frustration for both actors and lovers comes from knowing that you've got the goods, that you are good, and yet you don't have your shot yet. So do you keep on getting up and out there, knowing that all you can do is your best? How do you keep bringing your best stuff when you know that most times your best won't be good enough?
Or do you just stay in the bubble of acting classes and rehearsals, talking it out with friends and doing exercises that strengthen both your skills and your resolve?
I don't know.
So, I guess I don't really have a point. Just a different kind of post.
So, I've been alluding to a certain young gentleman in a few of my October and September posts. And, as is usual for the blacktress -- and, as the hit song goes -- another one bites the dust.
I take these things harder than one probably should. I agonize in ways that, although can be HI-larious (where's my book deal?!), they can also drive me cray. And, I think I've finally figured out why I freak out. This information is nothing new, but as it goes with Sojo, I need to write out the TRUTH for it to set me free.
I am great on first dates. First dates are, for me, similar to an audition. I walk in effortlessly, taking a shot in the dark, and that energy and devil-may-care attitude is appealing. I play with my lines, I swallow my direction whole and give it back, because...well, why not? This person doesn't know what I've got, has nothing to compare my behavior to, and we're just gonna have fun for a couple minutes. Sometimes it doesn't stick, and I don't get the part. But that's usually okay, because I never knew more than those 3 or 4 pages of dialogue I had to audition with.
But then there are the callbacks. The second, third, fourth--and, if i'm lucky, fifth--dates, where I'm getting to know more about what I'm up against. Where I start to imagine myself in the role, see the possibilities, and get excited.
And I become terrified. The stakes are 40 stories high because I actually have a shot. It means he sees something in me that is better than the majority. So the sweat begins. The pacing, the worrying, the babbling. My lines no longer flow, because I've got one eye on the director, checking his response before I continue. Statements previously made with ease now end in question marks.
"I really like Ani Difranco? [Unless that intimidates you, in which case, I won't bring up music at all, and deflect to your interests.]" Things I know in my heart to be true, I become afraid to say, because in the past, it's been the "wrong direction for that character."
Don't get me wrong. My sense of self is strong. I know who I am, and sometimes I'm a hot-ass R. Kelly-style mess, and other times I'm RuPaul fabulous. I cannot change my core, and I don't aim to when I put myself out there. I just see myself as malleable, able to win over all sorts of people--depending on the order in which I choose to show you my range.
Because, when you're in a callback--when you're really being considered--the difference between scoring the role and not getting a phone call comes down to the minutiae. It's not that you don't fit--it's that you don't slide in effortlessly.
It could come down to your height. Or the way the camera captures you. Or the tiniest tick or gesture that, when magnified, suddenly becomes grating. Or it could be the way you turn a phrase that reminds the director of someone they hated, and now, no matter what, there's that association. Or it could simply be the color of your hair. And, although you could dye it (you'd still be yourself, it'd still be your skill), they don't really need you to when the girl two seats down is a natural. And although you've got the goods, they don't quite see you in their big picture.
Remember that this is a metaphor--forming relationships isn't this simple, and the status differences inherent in a director-desperate actor relationship are not always the way the get-to-know-you phase is constructed. And, as most people know, half the battle of "getting to production" is the deep desire to create something in the first place. It's the desire to put up with the difficulties.
So I know these are broad stream-of-consciousness strokes that don't get at the details. But I find the end emotion is similar because, when you consciously date, you present yourself. You package yourself in the most attractive way. You are a product, and you're trying to prove that product's worth. The frustration for both actors and lovers comes from knowing that you've got the goods, that you are good, and yet you don't have your shot yet. So do you keep on getting up and out there, knowing that all you can do is your best? How do you keep bringing your best stuff when you know that most times your best won't be good enough?
Or do you just stay in the bubble of acting classes and rehearsals, talking it out with friends and doing exercises that strengthen both your skills and your resolve?
I don't know.
So, I guess I don't really have a point. Just a different kind of post.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Dream DENIED
Did y'all hear about this madness down south? Well, thanks to my politically minded friends, and the Huffington Post, I was made aware just moments ago. Check it out:
An Interracial Couple Was Denied A Marriage License in Louisiana!!!!!!
Oh Hell to the No!! I feel as though, since Barack's election, close-minded members of Caucasia have felt more threatened than ever, and incidents such as these are coming up left and right--or, maybe because of our new Pres, these incidents are being called out. Either way, Sojo's pissed! Y'all know how much I love me a tall glass of milk (does a body good!), and here is Keith Bardwell, trying to shut down miscegenation, cause he's scared of us making more change-leading baby Baracks! This couple's dream wasn't deferred--it was straight up denied!
I love how this justice of the peace (Justice of the HATE, is more like it)talks about "his experience" with interracial marriages, which shows they don't last long. Well, hm, is it because 50% of ALL marriages end in divorce? I wonder what his views are on marriage licenses for shotgun weddings, or couples in the 18- to 25-year-old range? For some reason, I have a feeling that he has no problem issuing those licenses, as long as they keep it within their race.
Okay, I could go on, but I'll turn it over to you, gentle readers. Thoughts?
What about Iman and David Bowie, Mr. Bardwell??!?!?! They are too fierce to not be meant to be!
An Interracial Couple Was Denied A Marriage License in Louisiana!!!!!!
Oh Hell to the No!! I feel as though, since Barack's election, close-minded members of Caucasia have felt more threatened than ever, and incidents such as these are coming up left and right--or, maybe because of our new Pres, these incidents are being called out. Either way, Sojo's pissed! Y'all know how much I love me a tall glass of milk (does a body good!), and here is Keith Bardwell, trying to shut down miscegenation, cause he's scared of us making more change-leading baby Baracks! This couple's dream wasn't deferred--it was straight up denied!
I love how this justice of the peace (Justice of the HATE, is more like it)talks about "his experience" with interracial marriages, which shows they don't last long. Well, hm, is it because 50% of ALL marriages end in divorce? I wonder what his views are on marriage licenses for shotgun weddings, or couples in the 18- to 25-year-old range? For some reason, I have a feeling that he has no problem issuing those licenses, as long as they keep it within their race.
Okay, I could go on, but I'll turn it over to you, gentle readers. Thoughts?
What about Iman and David Bowie, Mr. Bardwell??!?!?! They are too fierce to not be meant to be!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Are You There Bryan Safi? It's Me, Blacktress
I just saw the best video ever, and wanted to share it with you! Enjoy, my sweets! (no homo)
Thursday, October 8, 2009
House Guests - A Rant.
I'm currently holed up in my room, watching Private Practice.
I have five house guests, three of whom are 18-year-old girls.
I am not pleased.
These are members of the Detroit Crew. I think you all know, from previous posts, my feelings on my Detroit fam. These guests aren't even blood relatives, and I don't speak to them regularly. How do you just rock up in someone's home, rolling 5-deep, and think that's acceptable?
Sorry, let me backtrack.
So, my aunt's best friend has three daughters. The oldest is the same age as me and my cousin, so during my summers in Detroit, we were a trio. Her middle daughter was a few years younger, so she mostly rolled with us in the capacity of any younger sister (flunky, tattle-tale, etc.). The youngest girl is 8 years below us, so we were never close. Once she stopped letting us dress her up, we all sort of lost interest, you know?
Well, she's now celebrating her 18th birthday and her mom thought she'd combine her conference in NYC with her daughter's birthday present, so guess who now has her and two of her friends for the next three days?
YAY FOR ME!
The mother emails me and asks if she and her Jamaican lover can also stay the night, as the place they're crashing the rest of the weekend won't be free til Friday. I have no choice but to oblige.
Quick question, guys: Why can't a 50-something-year-old attorney get a hotel for the night so that she and her lover can have privacy and a personal bathroom? I know it's a recession, but if you can't swing it, don't bring it!
So, a mere 15 minutes before Jim and Pam's wedding on "The Office," they arrive. There's the one I knew growing up, who has really matured in the last few years. Although I haven't seen her, I've heard that she's had a bout of chlamydia, and was briefly in a relationship with a 25-year-old woman. Then, she introduced me to her best friend. It went something like this:
Bitchy 18-year-old I Don't Want here: [pointing to her friend] This is my best friend, (pointing to me)and this is my cousin.*
Me: Hello. I'm Sojourner.
The Best Friend: Hi.
She does not say her name. I have never met her before and she plans on staying in my home and yet does not think it's sensible to state her name and perhaps say "thanks for letting me stay." This is yet another reason why black people can't have nice things--children lack home training.
This girl immediately breaks out her cell and starts chatting with folks. Apparently, there's no need for me to say, "make yourself comfortable."
The girl I know asks if her older sister is coming.
"What?" I ask. "I'm clearly uninformed."
Moments later my cell phone rings. It's the sis. She goes to grad school in DC and is apparently coming down.
"Hey, Sojo, can I come stay?! I got off Monday, so I'll just kick it til y'all kick me out."
Um, okay, people. I'm at least somewhat friends with the sis, she's my age, we grew up together. If the whole damn rest of her family, including her mother's illegal immigrant lover, are going to stay, there's no way I can tell her no. However, this now brings our total to 6. We don't have the beds, or the food, and I quite frankly don't have the patience.
House Guests are a lot of work. Having to be chipper, tend to people's needs, and generally make sure 18-year-olds don't cause a ruckus means that for the next 3-5 days, my home is not my own. And when the people staying seem to lack courtesy and kindness, there's little incentive to put on the act.
Through the phone call with the older sis, the mother and her Jamaican lover are sprawled out on the couch. When I explain that I'll leave the girls directions and get them on the subway, the mother looks at me with a passive aggressive expression, I guess thinking that I'd be taking them around.
Um, what? Me with three legal adults in tow? I don't think so. See, I have a few rules in life:
- Ass, gas, or grass--nobody rides for free.
- John Krasinski is my future husband.
- If you're old enough to get chlamydia and test your sexuality, you're old enough to take the subway alone.
Am I right?
Playing tourist in a city I live in isn't on my to-do list. I'm not "re-discovering," I'm simply navigating my way through throngs of tourists in densely populated areas. Besides, I did this last week with a Danish pal, even taking her to the bar from the film "Coyote Ugly" (it's her favorite movie. I kid you not.). Hanging out with teens isn't my idea of fun. I hate teenagers. Especially ones who are only interested in boys and clothes. I was never that teen, so those with lack of drive (college? what college?) or interests simply confuse me. They don't read books, they don't watch television shows; there are no common denominators to aid small talk, and even if there were, they certainly wouldn't last us 8-10 hours of gallivanting around Manhattan.
It's now 10:30am (some time has lapsed. Too busy tending, I wasn't able to return to this post til the next morning). I hear music blasting down the hall. I'm going try to shuttle these bitches out, maybe direct them to IHop for breakfast, cause I sure as hell ain't cooking.
What can I do to get through this? Any suggestions?
*Note: we are not related at all. She knows this.
I have five house guests, three of whom are 18-year-old girls.
I am not pleased.
These are members of the Detroit Crew. I think you all know, from previous posts, my feelings on my Detroit fam. These guests aren't even blood relatives, and I don't speak to them regularly. How do you just rock up in someone's home, rolling 5-deep, and think that's acceptable?
Sorry, let me backtrack.
So, my aunt's best friend has three daughters. The oldest is the same age as me and my cousin, so during my summers in Detroit, we were a trio. Her middle daughter was a few years younger, so she mostly rolled with us in the capacity of any younger sister (flunky, tattle-tale, etc.). The youngest girl is 8 years below us, so we were never close. Once she stopped letting us dress her up, we all sort of lost interest, you know?
Well, she's now celebrating her 18th birthday and her mom thought she'd combine her conference in NYC with her daughter's birthday present, so guess who now has her and two of her friends for the next three days?
YAY FOR ME!
The mother emails me and asks if she and her Jamaican lover can also stay the night, as the place they're crashing the rest of the weekend won't be free til Friday. I have no choice but to oblige.
Quick question, guys: Why can't a 50-something-year-old attorney get a hotel for the night so that she and her lover can have privacy and a personal bathroom? I know it's a recession, but if you can't swing it, don't bring it!
So, a mere 15 minutes before Jim and Pam's wedding on "The Office," they arrive. There's the one I knew growing up, who has really matured in the last few years. Although I haven't seen her, I've heard that she's had a bout of chlamydia, and was briefly in a relationship with a 25-year-old woman. Then, she introduced me to her best friend. It went something like this:
Bitchy 18-year-old I Don't Want here: [pointing to her friend] This is my best friend, (pointing to me)and this is my cousin.*
Me: Hello. I'm Sojourner.
The Best Friend: Hi.
She does not say her name. I have never met her before and she plans on staying in my home and yet does not think it's sensible to state her name and perhaps say "thanks for letting me stay." This is yet another reason why black people can't have nice things--children lack home training.
This girl immediately breaks out her cell and starts chatting with folks. Apparently, there's no need for me to say, "make yourself comfortable."
The girl I know asks if her older sister is coming.
"What?" I ask. "I'm clearly uninformed."
Moments later my cell phone rings. It's the sis. She goes to grad school in DC and is apparently coming down.
"Hey, Sojo, can I come stay?! I got off Monday, so I'll just kick it til y'all kick me out."
Um, okay, people. I'm at least somewhat friends with the sis, she's my age, we grew up together. If the whole damn rest of her family, including her mother's illegal immigrant lover, are going to stay, there's no way I can tell her no. However, this now brings our total to 6. We don't have the beds, or the food, and I quite frankly don't have the patience.
House Guests are a lot of work. Having to be chipper, tend to people's needs, and generally make sure 18-year-olds don't cause a ruckus means that for the next 3-5 days, my home is not my own. And when the people staying seem to lack courtesy and kindness, there's little incentive to put on the act.
Through the phone call with the older sis, the mother and her Jamaican lover are sprawled out on the couch. When I explain that I'll leave the girls directions and get them on the subway, the mother looks at me with a passive aggressive expression, I guess thinking that I'd be taking them around.
Um, what? Me with three legal adults in tow? I don't think so. See, I have a few rules in life:
- Ass, gas, or grass--nobody rides for free.
- John Krasinski is my future husband.
- If you're old enough to get chlamydia and test your sexuality, you're old enough to take the subway alone.
Am I right?
Playing tourist in a city I live in isn't on my to-do list. I'm not "re-discovering," I'm simply navigating my way through throngs of tourists in densely populated areas. Besides, I did this last week with a Danish pal, even taking her to the bar from the film "Coyote Ugly" (it's her favorite movie. I kid you not.). Hanging out with teens isn't my idea of fun. I hate teenagers. Especially ones who are only interested in boys and clothes. I was never that teen, so those with lack of drive (college? what college?) or interests simply confuse me. They don't read books, they don't watch television shows; there are no common denominators to aid small talk, and even if there were, they certainly wouldn't last us 8-10 hours of gallivanting around Manhattan.
It's now 10:30am (some time has lapsed. Too busy tending, I wasn't able to return to this post til the next morning). I hear music blasting down the hall. I'm going try to shuttle these bitches out, maybe direct them to IHop for breakfast, cause I sure as hell ain't cooking.
What can I do to get through this? Any suggestions?
*Note: we are not related at all. She knows this.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Moral Support.
I was talking to my crush last night on the phone, for the first time in 2 weeks-- as my loyal readers will recall, he'd been in Brazil for work. After a bit of phone tag, we finally worked it out.
Until my awkwardness kicked in.
Let me set the scene:
Blacktress and Crush are on the phone. Blacktress is outside a restaurant on Rivington street, before a stand up show. She has to be breezy and brief.
Blacktress: So, how was your trip?
Crush: Good, I did well with clients. It was good all around.
[there is loud barking in the background. His dog hates the blacktress.]
Blacktress: Why is she freaking out? Does she know I'm on the phone?
Crush: No, it's not my dog, I'm at the dog park so there are alot of them.
Blacktress: Oh, ok.
Crush: So, what is this whole, "becoming a gay icon" thing you were talking about on gchat?
Blacktress: Oh, I did a show for the gays, and they loved it. I got a bunch of invites to perform at other venues, and I was called "a magical creature."
Crush [in a high-pitched voice, as though speaking to a child]: Good girl!
Blacktress (laughing): Thanks!
Crush: What?
Blacktress: Thanks for your support.
Crush: Oh. I was talking to my dog.
Of course he was.
Um, we have a date Saturday night. I'm gonna need you to wish me luck.
Until my awkwardness kicked in.
Let me set the scene:
Blacktress and Crush are on the phone. Blacktress is outside a restaurant on Rivington street, before a stand up show. She has to be breezy and brief.
Blacktress: So, how was your trip?
Crush: Good, I did well with clients. It was good all around.
[there is loud barking in the background. His dog hates the blacktress.]
Blacktress: Why is she freaking out? Does she know I'm on the phone?
Crush: No, it's not my dog, I'm at the dog park so there are alot of them.
Blacktress: Oh, ok.
Crush: So, what is this whole, "becoming a gay icon" thing you were talking about on gchat?
Blacktress: Oh, I did a show for the gays, and they loved it. I got a bunch of invites to perform at other venues, and I was called "a magical creature."
Crush [in a high-pitched voice, as though speaking to a child]: Good girl!
Blacktress (laughing): Thanks!
Crush: What?
Blacktress: Thanks for your support.
Crush: Oh. I was talking to my dog.
Of course he was.
Um, we have a date Saturday night. I'm gonna need you to wish me luck.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thanks, OKCupid!
I got the following email in my OKCupid inbox this morning:
Hello dear!
How are you?
Looking at your profile makes me feel I have my heart right in your hands...You're so cute! and outgoing!
Every time I see someone like you, I tend to be protective...So I am for you. Because of your character, the right person to befriended is someone like me who understands, respects, protects, serious and real...
I already stated that I am single and eventually interested in a serious relationship...since it takes time to built a relationship...For that I am open to hangout with you, have fun, go to movies, walk in the park , laugh and so on
Now the only thing that I want to know is : "Are you open to spend time with me, do you really want to enjoy my company"???
Waiting for your reply!
until then take care!
OH EM GEE, what do I write back????!?!?!? This guy could be the one!*
*This is sarcasm, in case that wasn't clear. I'm not as good at it as Edith Zimmerman.
Hello dear!
How are you?
Looking at your profile makes me feel I have my heart right in your hands...You're so cute! and outgoing!
Every time I see someone like you, I tend to be protective...So I am for you. Because of your character, the right person to befriended is someone like me who understands, respects, protects, serious and real...
I already stated that I am single and eventually interested in a serious relationship...since it takes time to built a relationship...For that I am open to hangout with you, have fun, go to movies, walk in the park , laugh and so on
Now the only thing that I want to know is : "Are you open to spend time with me, do you really want to enjoy my company"???
Waiting for your reply!
until then take care!
OH EM GEE, what do I write back????!?!?!? This guy could be the one!*
*This is sarcasm, in case that wasn't clear. I'm not as good at it as Edith Zimmerman.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Normal is not an option.
I have reached a new low. Only, this isn't as outwardly tragic as much of the events during the "Summer of New Lows." This is more of an internal low, an emotional low that I thought, as a grown ass woman, I'd be over by this age. I am seriously Aspberger's right now.
Let me set the scene.
So, I'm on the interwebs, just typing on some F-book walls--you know, the nightly usual. I switch tabs and notice that a certain crush is online (damn you, gchat list!). Our last date was a week ago, and he's currently in the South America for a week, on a business trip (damn you, Southern Hemisphere--you're always taking my men away at the most delicate times!). My course of action and thought process went something like this:
1. Aaaah, he's online!
[I immediately go invisible so that he won't know I'm online.]
2. Wait, why am I hiding myself? There's nothing bad about being on the internet at 11:45pm on a Wednesday night. Right?
[I go back to visible]
3. This feels oddly invasive. I should not be able to know he's online, I feel like I'm inadvertently stalking.
[I set my chat settings so that he "never" shows up in my chat list.]
4. Wait, maybe it is weird that I'm online so late. He'll think I'm watching web porn or something.
[I set my chat settings to block, so that he doesn't know I'm online.]
5. I wonder if he'll email me. Should I have emailed him? If he was having sex with Gisele Bunchen's cousin right now, he probably wouldn't be checking his email, so that's a relief.
Unless he was going online to write everyone he knows to tell them he'd just slept with a total Brazilian hottie.
Note: Never once did I think it was acceptable to IM him and say "hello, how's Brazil?"
Cause, you know, that'd be too logical, and bordering on polite. I mean, what if he--gasp!--knew I was interested in him even though I hadn't seen him in a week? Can you imagine how disinterested he'd be as a result of my interest?
It seems, gentle readers, that Sojourner can't handle her own truth of crushing. What is wrong with me? In my head, every woman in Brazil looks like Gisele Bunchen. They are all hot and lithe and oiled, in an effortless sort of way. And when you enter the country, customs officials check the duration of your stay. If it is longer than 28 days, you are required to undergo cosmetic surgery, so as not to ruin the national character by bringing down the general hotness of the country.
And this, my friends, is where the line between sanity and insanity can be drawn. This is also where you can draw the line between, "single gal in her twenties," and "future smelly cat lady."
Sometimes I feel clumsier than Fergie.
Why did this song come into my head just now?
Let me set the scene.
So, I'm on the interwebs, just typing on some F-book walls--you know, the nightly usual. I switch tabs and notice that a certain crush is online (damn you, gchat list!). Our last date was a week ago, and he's currently in the South America for a week, on a business trip (damn you, Southern Hemisphere--you're always taking my men away at the most delicate times!). My course of action and thought process went something like this:
1. Aaaah, he's online!
[I immediately go invisible so that he won't know I'm online.]
2. Wait, why am I hiding myself? There's nothing bad about being on the internet at 11:45pm on a Wednesday night. Right?
[I go back to visible]
3. This feels oddly invasive. I should not be able to know he's online, I feel like I'm inadvertently stalking.
[I set my chat settings so that he "never" shows up in my chat list.]
4. Wait, maybe it is weird that I'm online so late. He'll think I'm watching web porn or something.
[I set my chat settings to block, so that he doesn't know I'm online.]
5. I wonder if he'll email me. Should I have emailed him? If he was having sex with Gisele Bunchen's cousin right now, he probably wouldn't be checking his email, so that's a relief.
Unless he was going online to write everyone he knows to tell them he'd just slept with a total Brazilian hottie.
Note: Never once did I think it was acceptable to IM him and say "hello, how's Brazil?"
Cause, you know, that'd be too logical, and bordering on polite. I mean, what if he--gasp!--knew I was interested in him even though I hadn't seen him in a week? Can you imagine how disinterested he'd be as a result of my interest?
It seems, gentle readers, that Sojourner can't handle her own truth of crushing. What is wrong with me? In my head, every woman in Brazil looks like Gisele Bunchen. They are all hot and lithe and oiled, in an effortless sort of way. And when you enter the country, customs officials check the duration of your stay. If it is longer than 28 days, you are required to undergo cosmetic surgery, so as not to ruin the national character by bringing down the general hotness of the country.
And this, my friends, is where the line between sanity and insanity can be drawn. This is also where you can draw the line between, "single gal in her twenties," and "future smelly cat lady."
Sometimes I feel clumsier than Fergie.
Why did this song come into my head just now?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
I'm Confused
I don't understand why "Single Ladies" was the Video of the Year. Can someone explain it to me?
Look, I love dancing up in the club, telling men I don't know to "put a ring on it" as much as the next girl, and I definitely think of it as Song of the Year, but the video was black and white, with Beyonce and two other girls dancing in leotards. What's exactly innovative, groundbreaking, or visually stunning about it as a video?
Okay, okay, Beyonce's body--and her ability to do those moves in high heels!--but scantily clad women dancing has been a staple of music videos from the beginning. I'm seriously confused.
I was, however, really glad when she let Taylor Swift have her moment (did anyone else notice Perez Hilton touch his heart during the standing O?)--after all, Beyonce's always got a damn moment, she wasn't desperate for 2 more minutes of booty shaking. Beyonce shows that just cause you ain't in school (*cough* College Dropout Kanye *cough*) doesn't mean you can't have class.
But seriously, I feel handicapped. I also don't get why Taylor Swift won anything. I'm really off when it comes to current music. Leave a comment and break it down for a blacktress.
Look, I love dancing up in the club, telling men I don't know to "put a ring on it" as much as the next girl, and I definitely think of it as Song of the Year, but the video was black and white, with Beyonce and two other girls dancing in leotards. What's exactly innovative, groundbreaking, or visually stunning about it as a video?
Okay, okay, Beyonce's body--and her ability to do those moves in high heels!--but scantily clad women dancing has been a staple of music videos from the beginning. I'm seriously confused.
I was, however, really glad when she let Taylor Swift have her moment (did anyone else notice Perez Hilton touch his heart during the standing O?)--after all, Beyonce's always got a damn moment, she wasn't desperate for 2 more minutes of booty shaking. Beyonce shows that just cause you ain't in school (*cough* College Dropout Kanye *cough*) doesn't mean you can't have class.
But seriously, I feel handicapped. I also don't get why Taylor Swift won anything. I'm really off when it comes to current music. Leave a comment and break it down for a blacktress.
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