On the 4th day of B.H.M./ my blacktress gave to me….. a story about Miss Na-o-mi.
Campbell, that is.
Today I have decided to sing the virtues of the cray-cray Naomi Campbell.
First of all, let me say something about Naomi. I was talking to Scribe earlier today, and she dropped some good knowledge about Ms. Campbell. She said:
SCRIBE: no i love her being cray
check this out
naomi campbell is known to be a b*tch
she beats people
throws tantrums
and it has never affected her work
no one has ever decided, ok Naomi is out
this is a black woman who is allowed to be cray cray and has yet to be punished for it
AND she gets to be cray, without anyone making her the "crazy black woman"
she is just crazy
i wanna know her secret.
Come to think of it, Scribe, I do, too…
This conversation was serendipitous, as I already had Naomi on the brain after her random appearance in a commercial for Life Water which debuted during last night’s Super Bowl and involved her dancing to MJ’s “Thriller” with animated lizards. See for yourself (click "Sobe LifeWater" from the pulldown menu):
No, you’re not drunk. And you’re not dreaming. And no, it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. But Naomi looked fierce and didn’t throw a celly at anyone, so I consider this commercial a success. I was then further pleased with her when I discovered earlier today that Miss Campbell is boycotting Fashion Week. I really think she is moved by the spirit of BHM. Naomi is finally using her status as a fine (part) Black woman to speak out against the racism and prejudice in the fashion and modeling industries. The runway is her plantation, and she is standing up as a runaway slave, fleeing the shackles of high-heeled oppression, and crying out for justice.
I just wish she’d stop letting them dye her hair all kinds of non-Negro colors (like blond) and stop hitting her help. When a rich Negress hits her help, it sends the message to White folks that we can’t have nice things cause we won't know how to behave.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Lessons From Another Wesley
On this third day of blackness, I would like to speak of a Negro who is not famous. A simple man, just riding public transportation, and dropping knowledge...
Yesterday, I was on my way to the Ted Haggard Monologues, to sing for Jesus the way only a blacktress can. In typical New York City form, the trains were being cray cray, and I decided to hop on a bus to get to the express. As I'm on the corner waiting for the light to change, I see the very bus I desire speeding towards the stop. Fuck! I'm not going to make it! I think as the bus reaches the stop and the cars continue to whizz by.
The bus stops to let passengers exit. I'm looking left and right, judging whether or not its appropriate to play a game of frogger in an attempt to cross the road. As I'm deciding how much I value my life (and catching this bus), I notice something: The bus isn't moving.
That's right. No one's getting on or off, but the doors are open. The driver's blinkers are on...as if he's waiting... for me.
I mean, is it Black History Month or what? The spirit of Negro giving is all around us!
As I board the bus and give the driver a hearty thanks, I am moved by the kindness and goodness coming from this downtown-bound M3. For the first time in months, instead of praising White Jesus, I praise the black mortal.
And I feel good.
I take a single seat (I try to avoid sitting next to people during cold and flu season), and bask in the karmic goodness of the evening. The man sitting in front of me turns around, and says,
"That was nice of him!"
"It sure was, Older Black Man Who Slightly Slurs." I smile, deciding its best to share the goodness, and do my part for BHM.
"I thought he was waiting for that other lady. Did you flag him down?"
"No, I actually, I didn't think he'd see me. But I was sorta gesturing wildly." (I then mimic the gestures I was making on the street corner, and several passengers stared at me in confusion and worry.)
"Well, you have a lovely smile and seem like a nice person, and good things happen to good people."
I was floored. This Black History Month was getting better by the second. Not since the soul-searching cowboy had a man I'd briefly met seen so deep into my soul for who I am. Yes, he was right-- I AM a good person.
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
"You just gotta wake up and be glad you're alive and everything's gonna be all right."
"Mmm-hmm," I said. I was starting to get a little bored by this conversation, as I often do after I've been complimented and we've hit the high point.
"I almost didn't wake up once," he said, pointing to the hat on his head. It said in big letters, VIETNAM VETERAN.
Now, I didn't think war veterans were getting hats. This seems a little ridiculous to me, kinda like the equivalent of "I went to war and all I got was this stupid hat"-- what about healthcare, jobs, support from the government? This man clearly could have used all of these things instead of a hat.
But I decided not to go there.
"By the way, my name is Wesley," he said.
I didn't know if I should tell him that Wesley Snipes was my featured Negro of the day and that I thought this was kismet. I just smiled and said hello again (and didn't give him my name).
"How you doing?"
Um, hadn't we already been there? I just said I was fine and asked him how he was.
"I'm just trying to survive this Holocaustic madness."
WHAT?
Wesley just came out of left field with that one--even though the hat was probably a hint that something like that was coming.
"Well, that's all you can do," I said laughing as though I had any idea what "Holocaustic" meant.
"Yep, this is holocaustic madness."
Just then the bus reached 125th and we both had to get off. I let Wesley go first, and he turned to me, grabbed my arm, and said, "Be safe!"
I said thank you and turned towards the subway station.
I heard Wesley yell after me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't-- he had left me with much to think about already. After complimenting me, he turned my attention to the horrors of war and its aftermath. He then mentioned the Holocaust, as well as our current state of affairs. And he did this all with a respect and kindness that can only be found during the month of blackness.
Yesterday, I was on my way to the Ted Haggard Monologues, to sing for Jesus the way only a blacktress can. In typical New York City form, the trains were being cray cray, and I decided to hop on a bus to get to the express. As I'm on the corner waiting for the light to change, I see the very bus I desire speeding towards the stop. Fuck! I'm not going to make it! I think as the bus reaches the stop and the cars continue to whizz by.
The bus stops to let passengers exit. I'm looking left and right, judging whether or not its appropriate to play a game of frogger in an attempt to cross the road. As I'm deciding how much I value my life (and catching this bus), I notice something: The bus isn't moving.
That's right. No one's getting on or off, but the doors are open. The driver's blinkers are on...as if he's waiting... for me.
I mean, is it Black History Month or what? The spirit of Negro giving is all around us!
As I board the bus and give the driver a hearty thanks, I am moved by the kindness and goodness coming from this downtown-bound M3. For the first time in months, instead of praising White Jesus, I praise the black mortal.
And I feel good.
I take a single seat (I try to avoid sitting next to people during cold and flu season), and bask in the karmic goodness of the evening. The man sitting in front of me turns around, and says,
"That was nice of him!"
"It sure was, Older Black Man Who Slightly Slurs." I smile, deciding its best to share the goodness, and do my part for BHM.
"I thought he was waiting for that other lady. Did you flag him down?"
"No, I actually, I didn't think he'd see me. But I was sorta gesturing wildly." (I then mimic the gestures I was making on the street corner, and several passengers stared at me in confusion and worry.)
"Well, you have a lovely smile and seem like a nice person, and good things happen to good people."
I was floored. This Black History Month was getting better by the second. Not since the soul-searching cowboy had a man I'd briefly met seen so deep into my soul for who I am. Yes, he was right-- I AM a good person.
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
"You just gotta wake up and be glad you're alive and everything's gonna be all right."
"Mmm-hmm," I said. I was starting to get a little bored by this conversation, as I often do after I've been complimented and we've hit the high point.
"I almost didn't wake up once," he said, pointing to the hat on his head. It said in big letters, VIETNAM VETERAN.
Now, I didn't think war veterans were getting hats. This seems a little ridiculous to me, kinda like the equivalent of "I went to war and all I got was this stupid hat"-- what about healthcare, jobs, support from the government? This man clearly could have used all of these things instead of a hat.
But I decided not to go there.
"By the way, my name is Wesley," he said.
I didn't know if I should tell him that Wesley Snipes was my featured Negro of the day and that I thought this was kismet. I just smiled and said hello again (and didn't give him my name).
"How you doing?"
Um, hadn't we already been there? I just said I was fine and asked him how he was.
"I'm just trying to survive this Holocaustic madness."
WHAT?
Wesley just came out of left field with that one--even though the hat was probably a hint that something like that was coming.
"Well, that's all you can do," I said laughing as though I had any idea what "Holocaustic" meant.
"Yep, this is holocaustic madness."
Just then the bus reached 125th and we both had to get off. I let Wesley go first, and he turned to me, grabbed my arm, and said, "Be safe!"
I said thank you and turned towards the subway station.
I heard Wesley yell after me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't-- he had left me with much to think about already. After complimenting me, he turned my attention to the horrors of war and its aftermath. He then mentioned the Holocaust, as well as our current state of affairs. And he did this all with a respect and kindness that can only be found during the month of blackness.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
The Lessons of Wesley Snipes
I thought I'd take this second day of BHM to focus on a blacktor who has changed the face of cinema unlike any other: WESLEY SNIPES.
You may know him as Blade. But I know him as a man who wasn't afraid to put interracial love on the map and dressed as a woman before it was trendy.
Most people don't realize how much Wesley has taught through his motion pictures. In chronological order:
- He proved to us that white men CAN'T jump, and that "it ain't no thing but a chicken wing (on a string and Burger King)". While I still have no idea what that's supposed to mean, it is undeniable poetry, and shows that in addition to being a blacktor, he is a modern-day Shakespeare.
- He showed us the danger of crack cocaine in the hit film New Jack City--and put Chris Rock on the map as Pookie, a scrawny recovering drug addict.
- He showed us what happens when you "go white-girl crazy and she goes black-boy hazy: baby, there's no maybe--we're in love!!!!"
- He reminded us how to kill vampires with his hit trilogy of Blade films. The films also showed us that in addition to vampires, we must also be on the look out for "familiars"-- humans who are aid the creatures of the night.
Wesley's career has been marred by recent conspiracy charges, which included allegations that he filed a false tax refund claim of over US$4 million for the year 1996 and a false amended return including a false tax refund claim of over US$7.3 million for the year 1997.
In response to his indictment, Wesley played the race card with aplomb, declaring himself "a nonresident alien" of the United States. He also said he was "a scapegoat" and unfairly targeted by prosecutors in connection with the federal tax fraud investigation. He also attempted to get the trial moved from Florida on the ground that racist attitudes in that town would prejudice his chance for a fair trial.
Is he really wrong????? Wesley's plight reminds us that freedom ain't free!!! Snipes is the victim of snipers--aka, the government-- who want to take him down before he gets too uppity.
We must keep Wesley's lessons and his struggles in hearts-- not only this month, but every day of our lives.
You may know him as Blade. But I know him as a man who wasn't afraid to put interracial love on the map and dressed as a woman before it was trendy.
Most people don't realize how much Wesley has taught through his motion pictures. In chronological order:
- He proved to us that white men CAN'T jump, and that "it ain't no thing but a chicken wing (on a string and Burger King)". While I still have no idea what that's supposed to mean, it is undeniable poetry, and shows that in addition to being a blacktor, he is a modern-day Shakespeare.
- He showed us the danger of crack cocaine in the hit film New Jack City--and put Chris Rock on the map as Pookie, a scrawny recovering drug addict.
- He showed us what happens when you "go white-girl crazy and she goes black-boy hazy: baby, there's no maybe--we're in love!!!!"
- He reminded us how to kill vampires with his hit trilogy of Blade films. The films also showed us that in addition to vampires, we must also be on the look out for "familiars"-- humans who are aid the creatures of the night.
Wesley's career has been marred by recent conspiracy charges, which included allegations that he filed a false tax refund claim of over US$4 million for the year 1996 and a false amended return including a false tax refund claim of over US$7.3 million for the year 1997.
In response to his indictment, Wesley played the race card with aplomb, declaring himself "a nonresident alien" of the United States. He also said he was "a scapegoat" and unfairly targeted by prosecutors in connection with the federal tax fraud investigation. He also attempted to get the trial moved from Florida on the ground that racist attitudes in that town would prejudice his chance for a fair trial.
Is he really wrong????? Wesley's plight reminds us that freedom ain't free!!! Snipes is the victim of snipers--aka, the government-- who want to take him down before he gets too uppity.
We must keep Wesley's lessons and his struggles in hearts-- not only this month, but every day of our lives.
To Wesley Snipes: Thanks for Everything, Sojourner!!!
Friday, February 1, 2008
Happy Black HERstory Month!!!!
As you know, readers, today is the first day of Black History Month. While I take issue with the fact that black folks get the shortest month out of the year for recognition, I will milk these 28 days for all they’re worth: every day, I will feature a black person who has changed history, and I will tell their story as only Sojo can—the total truth!!!
I thought I would begin with someone everyone (even White folks) knows and loves: Harriet Tubman.
Next to me, she is the most famous strong black woman of the abolitionist era. In fact, people often get us confused.
And that pisses me off.
First of all, Harriet ain’t even all that. Look at her:
She think she all cute with that ascot and long petticoat….puh-lease. And her hair all exposed like she a common woman—you need to keep that under wraps if you want to stay pure. I was runnin’ these streets before she was even a gleam in her slave-owner’s eye. I had 20-plus years on homegirl before she rolled up out the womb! Let’s be real: she never even learned to read!!! What kind of freedom is that?! I don’t care how many people you smuggled to Canada, if you can’t read the road signs, your mind is still enslaved (don’t make me preach it).
How do I know all this? Well, Harriet and I crossed paths once, at a Waffle House in Paramus. She was up in there with Nelson Davis—her second husband—and I was resting my throat with a cup of hot tea, just done giving one of my many sermons and spreading the truth. I saw her and I know she saw me, but she took to actin’ like she didn’t know nobody.
Being the bigger, stronger, and more intelligent woman, I approached Harriet and her second husband with some respect. Nelson immediately went to the restroom, knowing better than to get between two strong black women. I took his seat.
Me: Harriet, how are you doing? How’s the.... Grounder-nay Ailroad-ray? (pig latin was the only way to keep our activities secret)
Harriet (singing): I been working on the railroad/ all the—
Me: Harriet, you know you need to quit. That ain’t even funny, girl.
Harriet: HAHAHAH!!! Oh, Sojo, it’s too much. (leans in close) You know folks calling me Moses now?! Ain’t I a woman?!
Me: God don’t like ugly, Harriet, and you getting more hideous by the day.
Harriet: Oh, don’t hate—appreciate and congratulate! (Gets even closer, and I could smell the syrup on her breath. She looks side to side.) You know this whole time I wasn’t even trying to free nobody but my damn self.
Me: What?!
Harriet: I had some sick days left over from the first fiscal year and I wanted to hear some live music, so I thought I’d head up to the Montreal Jazz Festival. Next thing I know, I got folks following me left and right.
Me: You mean you weren’t even trying to free your brethren?!
Harriet: Well, not at first. After a while, though, I got used to it. I liked stopping by those Quaker houses, getting steaming bowls of oatmeal. I figured why not?
Just then, Nelson came back. I got up, shook my head, and went back to my seat. I could not even believe it. Harriet “Underground Railroad” Tubman was simply trying to listen to some music and have a slice of Canadian bacon when she altered the course of herstory!!
I guess what she did was right, but it’s as much about reason as action, people!!
I don't care how much oatmeal you get, how many biblical names people give you, freeing slaves is not about the fame and the glory--it's about knowing what's right and knowing that ain't always WHITE!!!
Who was the first woman to be honored with a bust in the U.S. Capitol? ME
Who got a Mars probe named after her in 1997? ME
Who got a commemorative postage stamp in 1986? ME
I just wish people would stop getting us confused. I know we're all black when the lights go out, but all Negroes don't look alike! Here's an easy mnemonic to help you remember Miss Tubman:
Hurrying to Canada
Acting like she cute
Really just trifling
Received a stamp way after I did!
Illiterate
Eating waffles like a street urchin
Tramp-- 2 Husbands!
I thought I would begin with someone everyone (even White folks) knows and loves: Harriet Tubman.
Next to me, she is the most famous strong black woman of the abolitionist era. In fact, people often get us confused.
And that pisses me off.
First of all, Harriet ain’t even all that. Look at her:
She think she all cute with that ascot and long petticoat….puh-lease. And her hair all exposed like she a common woman—you need to keep that under wraps if you want to stay pure. I was runnin’ these streets before she was even a gleam in her slave-owner’s eye. I had 20-plus years on homegirl before she rolled up out the womb! Let’s be real: she never even learned to read!!! What kind of freedom is that?! I don’t care how many people you smuggled to Canada, if you can’t read the road signs, your mind is still enslaved (don’t make me preach it).
How do I know all this? Well, Harriet and I crossed paths once, at a Waffle House in Paramus. She was up in there with Nelson Davis—her second husband—and I was resting my throat with a cup of hot tea, just done giving one of my many sermons and spreading the truth. I saw her and I know she saw me, but she took to actin’ like she didn’t know nobody.
Being the bigger, stronger, and more intelligent woman, I approached Harriet and her second husband with some respect. Nelson immediately went to the restroom, knowing better than to get between two strong black women. I took his seat.
Me: Harriet, how are you doing? How’s the.... Grounder-nay Ailroad-ray? (pig latin was the only way to keep our activities secret)
Harriet (singing): I been working on the railroad/ all the—
Me: Harriet, you know you need to quit. That ain’t even funny, girl.
Harriet: HAHAHAH!!! Oh, Sojo, it’s too much. (leans in close) You know folks calling me Moses now?! Ain’t I a woman?!
Me: God don’t like ugly, Harriet, and you getting more hideous by the day.
Harriet: Oh, don’t hate—appreciate and congratulate! (Gets even closer, and I could smell the syrup on her breath. She looks side to side.) You know this whole time I wasn’t even trying to free nobody but my damn self.
Me: What?!
Harriet: I had some sick days left over from the first fiscal year and I wanted to hear some live music, so I thought I’d head up to the Montreal Jazz Festival. Next thing I know, I got folks following me left and right.
Me: You mean you weren’t even trying to free your brethren?!
Harriet: Well, not at first. After a while, though, I got used to it. I liked stopping by those Quaker houses, getting steaming bowls of oatmeal. I figured why not?
Just then, Nelson came back. I got up, shook my head, and went back to my seat. I could not even believe it. Harriet “Underground Railroad” Tubman was simply trying to listen to some music and have a slice of Canadian bacon when she altered the course of herstory!!
I guess what she did was right, but it’s as much about reason as action, people!!
I don't care how much oatmeal you get, how many biblical names people give you, freeing slaves is not about the fame and the glory--it's about knowing what's right and knowing that ain't always WHITE!!!
Who was the first woman to be honored with a bust in the U.S. Capitol? ME
Who got a Mars probe named after her in 1997? ME
Who got a commemorative postage stamp in 1986? ME
I just wish people would stop getting us confused. I know we're all black when the lights go out, but all Negroes don't look alike! Here's an easy mnemonic to help you remember Miss Tubman:
Hurrying to Canada
Acting like she cute
Really just trifling
Received a stamp way after I did!
Illiterate
Eating waffles like a street urchin
Tramp-- 2 Husbands!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Office Ex
There is this guy who works in my office who looks just like my ex boyfriend. I kid you not. Now, joining the ranks of my Office Wife and Office Husband, I now have my Office Ex. It’s totally freaking me out.
For those of you who don’t know (and for those of you who just love the hilarity of it all), my ex boyfriend is an Israeli, vegan, investment banker, who worked about 90 hours a week and did his study-abroad semester at a historically black college.
I kid you not.
How do randoms find me?!
We met at the birthday party of Edith Zimmerman, back in June of 2006…I should have known those two 6s were a sign….
He met me at a delicate time, when I was lost and confused, just fresh back from my tour with THE DEAF (where no one can hear you scream….), and well know how I love a man-cuddle during hard times. He was definitely sweet, and tried very hard to make the love work, but…
He was an Israeli, VEGAN, INVESTMENT BANKER, who WORKED 90 HOURS A WEEK.
Do you see the problems?
In addition to those, his parents were not happy with him dating a blacktress, and wouldn’t acknowledge I was even in his life.
Oh yeah, and he was pro-life.
Nothing’s more awkward than a guy you’ve been dating 2 months telling you he’d be ready to have a child with you if you were to get pregnant.
Oh, wait, actually, I CAN think of something more awkward: him telling you, “I’ve been thinking about whether or not I would love a black child…”
Um, paging Barack Obama!!! So, let’s get this straight: he’s telling me that not only must I bear his seed, but he won’t love it even if it does pop out of the ol’ babymaker!
In the words of Whitney Houston: HELL TO THE NO!!!
As you can see, this is still an emotional situation for me. I look back on the relationship with conflicting emotions and wonder if he is now in the arms of a vegetarian Jewess, who makes him latkes and likes to do spreadsheets. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the unloved mocha baby that would have resulted from our union….
And then I see the Office Ex, walking to the bathroom.
Honestly, the first time I saw him, my stomach leapt in my throat until sanity came back to me. “Get a hold of yourself, Sojourner,” I said. “There’s no way a rich banker boy would suddenly decide to work for business-to-business magazines….Besides, Office Ex is a bit more Jewey, and shorter than Schmomer Schmohen.**”
While I know it’s not him, this doppelganger haunts me, and sometimes makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
I haven’t been able to discuss this with my office spouses (you know how hard it is for your mate to think of you with other people—imagine if that person were always around!!!), so I’ve decided to share this with you, fair readers.
Do you think I should talk to him? Walk up to his desk and say “Shalom!” Ask him his feelings on a woman’s right to choose?
Or should I just turn the other way when I see him—as I do now?
**Names have been changed to protect the Jewish.
For those of you who don’t know (and for those of you who just love the hilarity of it all), my ex boyfriend is an Israeli, vegan, investment banker, who worked about 90 hours a week and did his study-abroad semester at a historically black college.
I kid you not.
How do randoms find me?!
We met at the birthday party of Edith Zimmerman, back in June of 2006…I should have known those two 6s were a sign….
He met me at a delicate time, when I was lost and confused, just fresh back from my tour with THE DEAF (where no one can hear you scream….), and well know how I love a man-cuddle during hard times. He was definitely sweet, and tried very hard to make the love work, but…
He was an Israeli, VEGAN, INVESTMENT BANKER, who WORKED 90 HOURS A WEEK.
Do you see the problems?
In addition to those, his parents were not happy with him dating a blacktress, and wouldn’t acknowledge I was even in his life.
Oh yeah, and he was pro-life.
Nothing’s more awkward than a guy you’ve been dating 2 months telling you he’d be ready to have a child with you if you were to get pregnant.
Oh, wait, actually, I CAN think of something more awkward: him telling you, “I’ve been thinking about whether or not I would love a black child…”
Um, paging Barack Obama!!! So, let’s get this straight: he’s telling me that not only must I bear his seed, but he won’t love it even if it does pop out of the ol’ babymaker!
In the words of Whitney Houston: HELL TO THE NO!!!
As you can see, this is still an emotional situation for me. I look back on the relationship with conflicting emotions and wonder if he is now in the arms of a vegetarian Jewess, who makes him latkes and likes to do spreadsheets. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the unloved mocha baby that would have resulted from our union….
And then I see the Office Ex, walking to the bathroom.
Honestly, the first time I saw him, my stomach leapt in my throat until sanity came back to me. “Get a hold of yourself, Sojourner,” I said. “There’s no way a rich banker boy would suddenly decide to work for business-to-business magazines….Besides, Office Ex is a bit more Jewey, and shorter than Schmomer Schmohen.**”
While I know it’s not him, this doppelganger haunts me, and sometimes makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
I haven’t been able to discuss this with my office spouses (you know how hard it is for your mate to think of you with other people—imagine if that person were always around!!!), so I’ve decided to share this with you, fair readers.
Do you think I should talk to him? Walk up to his desk and say “Shalom!” Ask him his feelings on a woman’s right to choose?
Or should I just turn the other way when I see him—as I do now?
**Names have been changed to protect the Jewish.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Heath Ledger and Brad Renfro--R.I.P.
I think this is how he looks in heaven.Today, at 3:35pm, Heath Ledger was found dead in a Soho apartment belonging to Mary-Kate Olsen. He is survived by his ex wife, Michelle Williams, tiny tot daughter, and…ME.
Coming immediately on the heels of the death of young actor Brad Renfro, this blow is too much to take. As Katie Walsh put it, “the middle-schooler in all of us is crying.”
How right she is.
I blame Mary-Kate Olsen and her pill stash--and that damn masseuse for not getting there sooner and giving him his happy ending.
Renfro and Ledger were actually quite similar: young, talented, kinda dirty-hot, they seemed under the Hollywood radar but still got into their fair share of trouble. Ledger took a sharp turn as a family man (that’s the way white people say “baby daddy”) and Oscar-nominee for Brokeback Mountain.
Heath, I must say, I wish I could quit you….because now, you’ve left me with no choice. Cause you’re dead.
Renfro started out as a young tyke with an old soul, beginning in The Client. I had such high hopes for him once he kicked his drug habit.
Unfortunately, my hopes and dreams are dashed and deferred--as usual.
I'm sorry, readers, I honestly do not have the words. I'm sure to die of osteoporosis, as all the tall drinkable glasses of milk are rapidly turning sour. I mean, Heath and I discussed our love (in my head)-- you know I like an Australian, and his chiseled jaw has always won me over. His divorce from Michelle only proved that we would be together soon.
I guess now, I'll just have to wait until we get to walk the red carpet in the sky.
Brad, this may be how you looked recently, Coming immediately on the heels of the death of young actor Brad Renfro, this blow is too much to take. As Katie Walsh put it, “the middle-schooler in all of us is crying.”
How right she is.
I blame Mary-Kate Olsen and her pill stash--and that damn masseuse for not getting there sooner and giving him his happy ending.
Renfro and Ledger were actually quite similar: young, talented, kinda dirty-hot, they seemed under the Hollywood radar but still got into their fair share of trouble. Ledger took a sharp turn as a family man (that’s the way white people say “baby daddy”) and Oscar-nominee for Brokeback Mountain.
Heath, I must say, I wish I could quit you….because now, you’ve left me with no choice. Cause you’re dead.
Renfro started out as a young tyke with an old soul, beginning in The Client. I had such high hopes for him once he kicked his drug habit.
Unfortunately, my hopes and dreams are dashed and deferred--as usual.
I'm sorry, readers, I honestly do not have the words. I'm sure to die of osteoporosis, as all the tall drinkable glasses of milk are rapidly turning sour. I mean, Heath and I discussed our love (in my head)-- you know I like an Australian, and his chiseled jaw has always won me over. His divorce from Michelle only proved that we would be together soon.
I guess now, I'll just have to wait until we get to walk the red carpet in the sky.
but you'll always be this plucky little boy to me.
HEATH LEDGER: 10 Things I LOVE ABOUT YOU
HEATH LEDGER: 10 Things I LOVE ABOUT YOU
10. Your versatility: From bad ass high schooler to rugged gay mountain man, you always had me going.
9. Your love for the BK: Instead of going Hollywood, you went to Brooklyn and decided to make a low-key life.
8. The fact that you made an honest woman out of Michelle Williams-- we all know about her days slutting it up on the creek.
7. Your hobo wardrobe: You looked like a bum even though you had a million bucks... just, you know, so the actual poor people wouldn't feel bad.
6. Your delicious accent.
5. A Knight's Tale and Cassanova: Clearly, you'll make anything for the right price. I respect your morals.
4. Your accent.
3. You're not afraid of a full-on sex scene with another man.
2. Your accent.
1. Um....TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU. Best. Movie. Ever.
9. Your love for the BK: Instead of going Hollywood, you went to Brooklyn and decided to make a low-key life.
8. The fact that you made an honest woman out of Michelle Williams-- we all know about her days slutting it up on the creek.
7. Your hobo wardrobe: You looked like a bum even though you had a million bucks... just, you know, so the actual poor people wouldn't feel bad.
6. Your delicious accent.
5. A Knight's Tale and Cassanova: Clearly, you'll make anything for the right price. I respect your morals.
4. Your accent.
3. You're not afraid of a full-on sex scene with another man.
2. Your accent.
1. Um....TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU. Best. Movie. Ever.
Teeth-The Movie: aka VAG-ILANTE JUSTICE
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