The day the earth wouldn't stay still.

Guys, this day is total madness.

I wake up after a fitful sleep to check my email and discover that the VH1 show I shot a segment for has been pushed back to August! AUGUST!! That’s practically fall—who’s going to care about celebrity beach bodies then?! What if they don’t end up using me at all???!! And my main-gay contact there is no longer going to be working on the show, so there goes my in to future opportunities as a talking head.
Ugh, I’m never going to become famous ever. I guess I’m going to have to work on becoming a basketball wife.

After getting ready, I head downstairs to the living room to tend to my houseguests. You see, I’ve been hosting the Jewboo’s two cats since Monday, and it’s turned my whole world topsy-turvy.
Although I had a cat for a few years, two have two large rambunctious, heavily shedding animals running amok is not something the blacktress is used to. And to have them for a week and make sure I don’t accidentally traumatize them is just too much.
Their names are Squee and Prembley (yes, Squee and Prembley), and Squee is totally energetic and spastic, and quickly acclimated himself to his new environment, and wanted to explore beyond the confines of the living room where I had them quarantined. Prembley, on the other hand, is rather…um…big boned and super lazy, and loves to fit his large self into tiny spaces. When I enter in the mornings and after work, Squee instantly pads towards me, waiting to be petted, while Prembley looks at me from behind the bookshelf with eyes that say, “You’ll never be my real mommy.”
I’ve been keeping them in the rather spacious living room, to both avoid the spread of cat hair everywhere, and to keep them from getting too overwhelmed and getting caught in madness…and also because I’m scared they may be carrying bedbugs.

Ah, yes…bedbugs.

This is why I’m holding the beasts.

You see, the Jewboo has bedbugs. His roommate found them last week. Ever since, he’s been in a pit of despair. I’d go into detail, but why don’t you watch this funny video of the two of them being sad and ranting about it on their stoop on their latest episode of “Cookies and Bookies,” their video podcast in which they review cookies and give betting advice?

Cookies and Bookies #7 from Wrestling Team on Vimeo.

(note the reference to the "girlfriend"--that's me! Yeah, I buy him cookies. You know, the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. I figure the best way to buy an unemployed Jewish man's love is through kosher treats).

I love how he’s looking such a hot mess in this video, hair all askew, bespectacled and washed out. That’s my guy!!

Of course, I’m not missing the hour-long trek to Greenpoint, but I also don’t want him shuttling these critters to my house, starting their own Harlem Renaissance in my crib! I also need to stop treating his cats as though they are actual houseguests, rearranging my schedule so that they’re pleased.
I also need to stop calling them “sir” and talking to them for extended periods of time. It’s getting creepy.
This morning, when I went to change the water bowl, not only did Squee race out the door, but even the normally comatose Prembley darted out, and I simply could not spend my morning trying to wrangle them back into the living room and making sure they were secure. I just had to make sure the living room door stayed open, so they could get to their food and their little box, and go about my day.

Who knows what I’ll come home to. The night before, Squee had managed to get out of the living room, but because it’s a sliding door, he couldn’t get back in, so lord knows how he spent his day. All I know is, he wandered in reeking of booze and shame....and refused to look me in the eye.


So, while I sit here at work, slightly worried that the cats are spreading bedbugs all around at best, and at worst, stuck in a crawlspace, I just saw that my friend’s bf has the following gchat status message: RIP RUE.

Instantly, I know this can only mean one thing…..BLANCHE DEVEREAUX HAS PASSED ON!!!!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

THIS DAY IS UTTER DARKNESS!!!

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?????

Only B-White is left standing. I don’t know if I can handle this.
Blanche was the original cougar, y’all. She was a cougar before there was a word for it! She was a cougar back when it was just creepy.


Look at her--she's probably thinking about who she just slept with--or planning who to sleep with next!! She taught us that geriatric sexuality was okay.
OH GOD, the aforementioned BF just informed me that Gary Coleman died!!
This is what happens when I’m in the Vermont woods and dating a man who doesn’t recognize the lyrics to Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” (you know, when he’s asking directions, and I sing “to the left, to the left”—I’m cut off from civilization.
How could I have missed this?!

What other bombs are going to drop on me today? I thought bad things come in threes. Wouldn't Gary Coleman make 4? But, I guess that already happened and I'm just behind. This day's bound to turn around, right?

FYI - I'm Hosting a Show This Friday!

Hey gang! If you want to catch some live blacktress, I'm hosting an improv show this Friday at Gotham City Improv. Here's the info:

Time: 8:30pm - 9:30pm
Place: Gotham City Improv
48 West 21st Street between 5th and 6th Ave
Cost: $6

Bring a friend!

I haven't really prepared a set, so we'll just wing it, kick it old school. I'll be doing 10 minutes up top, then 3-5 minutes in between each act, for about 20 minutes total. Good times!

Longest Post Ever.....Indian Weddings Inspire Me!

Whew, guys, what a whirlwind! How was your weekend?! Did you hit up any German-Indian weddings, by any chance? If so, then you’re allowed to say your weekend was amazing in every way. If not, then I’m sure you had some sort of fun, but nothing can really compare.

Seriously, after this past weekend, the newest item on my life to-do list is:
- Find Indian husband.
- Earn future-husband's parents’ approval.
- Have monsoon wedding in the Northeast countryside.
(I mean, I’d have it in India, but you know I can’t handle too much heat—I’d sweat my hair out, y’all!)

This weekend’s wedding was gorgeous and amazing, and the road was paved with danger every step of the way. I rode up Thursday night after work with the Maid of Honor and another bridesmaid, making our way through an NYC thunderstorm. This voyage was gonna take us at least 6 hours, and we didn’t set out until 8pm—-no sleep til VT, baby!!

I played navigator, and it seems I may be a dash dyslexic, as left and right baffled me at various points throughout the journey. Add that to my general distrust of New Jersey, and I think our early confusion was brought about by my lack of faith in Google Maps (“are we sure we’re supposed to be in a place called 'Ho Ho Kus'??? This can’t even be a real name. What the hell is 'Mahwah?' Something’s awry.) as the MOH drove with focus and determination (as only a woman studying to become a midwife could), the sky grew darker and darker. I suddenly realized we were three attractive women—one white, one asian, and one blacktress—in a car on a backroad in an unknown town. We were clearly in the opening scene on a horror movie.
We had to get to our destination, stat.

I managed to maintain my calm as flashes of the trailer for “The Human Centipede” popped into my head, and the MOH read the map like the true Vermont native she is. As she guided us on the right path, I decided that if I ever accidentally get pregnant and carry my kids to term, I’m gonna have them spend their summers in Vermont, so they can learn to be scrappy and take care of themselves. On the 1st of July I’m going to drop them in the middle of the woods with a compass and some rations and tell them that if they want to see the fireworks on the 4th they better figure out how to make it back to the cabin using their wits—that’ll give them the skills they need to navigate the harsh roads of life—and I-87 north.

Once in the VT, there was little rest for the weary—and I wasn’t even in the wedding party. I got to spend much of Friday with the MOH’s fiancée, who was the coolest guy ever. For some reason, he knew that there had to be a “bridal kit” consisting of necessary items for the wedding day—hair pins, nail polish, double-sided tape, hair gel, band-aids, and other miscellaneous emergency odds and ends that one could need just in case. We got to race around to various VT stores, taking in the countryside on the sunny day while I asked him all about what love is. Even though he’s only, like, 2 years older than me, the fact that he’s been in a 5-year relationship and is about to marry one of my favorite humans makes him a love guru in my mind, and I have to know how it all happens.

Besides, any man who not only knows about a bridal kit, but has no qualms about rounding up extra tampons for said kit has got to be the male equivalent of a unicorn. His mind must be dissected and studied for science, and for the edification of women everywhere.

Friday night was a magical pre-wedding party, where the Indian and German families came together. As the bride-to-be got dressed in her gorgeous green-and-gold sari, fussed over by several women, as they applied imported matching jewels I realized that I was clearly meant to be an Indian woman. These women are all diva, and understand the importance of a photo op. Everyone’s hair was DONE, and even though the party started at 6:30, the bride-to-be didn’t come down until 7:30. HELLO, DIVA!!! I hear that, make it work! RuPaul would have been proud!!

Once she came down, the party began, and it got crunked! The DJ played the Bangra jams, and the German groom’s family was all about the Indian garb. While the liberal-arts-college-grad in me initially worried about the appropriation of culture, there’s nothing cuter than a 4-year-old German girl wearing a sari, and my heart melted at the sight. It was also cool to see how into it they were, as if the two families really were bonding, you know? Talk about a merging of two totally different cultures—you’ve got Hamburg on one end and India-via-Vermont on the other, and it’s all love. I think this is what they mean by “post-racial.”

The highlight of the evening had to be when young girls in the family performed dances for the couple. Prior to this, various couples, ranging from aunts and uncles to bfs and gfs had done choreographed bits to various songs, and the joy of Bollywood was felt by all.
And by “all,” I mean, “me”. It was amazing.

Just when I thought it could get no more wonderful, the bride’s young cousin did a dance to a mashup that included Beyonce’s “Halo,” “Fireflies” by some pop group or another, and two Indian jams. As she kicked and twirled in the air, and used a decorative cloth as a prop, I stood in awe. She was no more than 14 years old, and, in, a word, FIERCE.
I want to be her when I grow up.
“Kiloni, I want to be you!” I gushed later in the night, when we were dancing to “Telephone” (my request to the DJ). “Thank you” she muttered without a smile, like a true diva.
She is a Lady Gaga in the making.

Riding high on her awesomeness, I didn’t know what the actual wedding day would have in store. Saturday morning was drizzly, which did not bode well for the outdoor Indian ceremony. Just 15 minutes before it began, however, the clouds parted, and the sun shone through, shedding light on the mandap (the tent where the ceremony would take place—you didn’t know the blacktress was down with the Hindi like that, did you?).
It was as if nature knew their love was meant to be!

I don’t know if any of you have been to a Hindu wedding ceremony, but that jam has 11 steps—11, y’all!! It takes over an hour! But it was totally worth every second, and the officiant kept it funny and engaging the whole time. He explained each portion, went back and forth between English and Hindi, and even learned German, y’all!! Holla at some multi-culti bridging of the gaps!
What I loved so much about the ceremony was its specificity—When you get married Hindu style, you know what you’re getting into. You communicate your expectations for married life and shower rice on each other, you walk around in circles, you worship sacred fire, you break that shit down, y’all!! When the German groom said his vows, the officiant made him repeat it 3 times, and the third time said, “I want you to repeat after me in German, so you really know what you’re agreeing to.” I hear that—You better make sure you know what you’re about, cause this shizz is for real!!

My favorite part is when the couple took 7 steps together, and they physically walked across the mandap, saying each promise aloud with each step: to provide for and support each other; to develop mental, sprititual, and physical strength together; to share their worldly possession; to acquire knowledge, happiness, and peace; to raise strong virtuous children; to enjoy fruits of all seasons; and to always remain friends and cherish each other.

Know, that’s the kind of binding agreement I can get behind. You’d hear me, at 50, sitting on the couch, about to get into a fight and go, “boy, don’t play me, we took step 3—give me a bite of that cake. Share that worldly possession!” I’d have the proof at all times!!

Okay, this post is long and out of control. I won’t even get into the Christian ceremony (and yes, the bride looked just as gorgeous in a white dress as she did in a Sari), cause Christianity was put to shame after the Hindu jam. I will also refrain from going on a tangent about how awesome cousin Natasha was—-at only 16 years old, she wore 4 different saris on the day of the wedding. A blacktress can get down with a culture that understands the importance of a quick-change. Always keep it looking fresh, Indian divas!!!

Needless to say, I had a great time. I tried not to cry during the ceremonies, but whenever I saw the bride cry, I got misty—-even though she told me later that she was looking to me to stop herself from tearing up. I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m such a gargoyle; we all know I’m tender and delicate!

Okay, we’ve officially taken up an hour of the day with this massive post. What can I say? The henna tattoo on my palm may have faded, but the memories will last forever.....

Going, Going, Going...Almost GONE!

I honestly feel like I haven’t slept since March, guys. I don’t really know why, seeing as I’m no Miley Cyrus-type rock star. But I’ve just been going-going-going, and it’s coming to a head. Last week was the 5-year college reunion, where my Aspberger’s really flared up.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved college. I definitely know what Bruce Springsteen talked about when he sang “Glory Days.” I also know what Ani Difranco talked about when she sang….well, every song she ever sang. While I was excited to see some friends, having all of them concentrated at once after a 5-year hiatus wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I wanted to make a t-shirt that said:

Hello! No, I’m not married. I’m NOT engaged. My current salary is less than our yearly tuition, and, despite all of our high hopes for my career, I’m not a famous comedian. How are you????

I hoped that’d ward off any painful schmoozing at class dinner. Alas, I could not make this happen.

Honestly, I made it all of 24 hours on campus, with the highlights being hanging out with former professors, and getting to meet film and television writer Alex Kurtzman, the mastermind behind TV show Fringe (I’m so glad Joshua Jackson’s still working!), the new Stark Trek, and one of my old tv favorites, Hercules (Kevin Sorbo, swoon city!). He told a blacktress straight-up (like Paula Abdul) that I needed to get some more up-to-date spec scripts, and decide if I want to write drama or sitcoms, no back and forth—I can’t be a greedy, tv-writing bisexual, I’ve got to pick a gender! (I wish he’d used those words, but he didn’t)

It was also pretty awesome to see two girls who are blog fans—and they’re black! We weren’t really friends in college, but it seems they’ve come to love Sojourner’s Truth since graduation! One of them is really pretty and I want to be her when I grow up. She’s got a hot Rihanna hairdo and a Colgate smile (you know how much I love the contrast of pearly whites against Nubian skin), and she’s from Maine, and never told me I talked white when we were in college. She immediately asked me about Jewboo and expressed a need for a Jewtorial to help her with her new social circle. I quickly offered my services, of course.

Although there was some fun, those 24 hours tired me out (and drained my wallet--they charged $120 to sleep in a dorm room for a night!). I then pulled double duty yesterday’s at the Book Expo, where I was supposed to be schmoozing for work, and actually snuck off to shoot a short scene for a tv pilot (you know how I do). I had one line which could end up on the editing room floor, but you gotta start somewhere!

I’m now spending this Thursday morning blogging, when lord knows I should be working since I’m about to be out for 4 days. Tonight I head to a wedding in Vermont, which takes away yet another weekend. Sleep? What’s that again? I vaguely remember it, but I can’t quite place it’s face.

This is the wedding of the girl whose bachelorette party I planned. You know, the one who I still haven’t heard a thank-you from? Well, yeah, I’m about to take the 7-hour drive to Vermont, and spent much of this week searching for a dress because this wedding requires that I wear not one, but two dresses. As we all know, I’m not in the wedding, but Friday night is some cultural something or the other, which requires “Semi-formal” attire. Saturday is both an Indian and Christian ceremony, which is basically a 10-hour day.
Basically, I’ll be taking part in a Bollywood film.

I don’t do very well with events and dressing up. I’m not a particularly fancy lady. I enjoy dresses, but if it’s not black-tie, and not in New York City, I don’t really know how to handle it. In NYC, anything goes, and you can usually get away with whatever. Black tie, having the word “black” in it, usually gives me a good enough hint. I can wear black, and in addition to being black, hope that I’m adequately dressed. However, in Vermont, I’m just not sure. A friend, who’s also the maid of honor, told me the vibe is “country-chic.”
I have no concept of “country-chic,” or “semi-formal,” or compound-definitions in general.
I immediately went to Anthropologie, which is all about country chic, with it’s wacky patterns and tablecloth-style dresses, but that’s not my style. I like solid colors, but nice cuts that flatter the figure. I don’t really do brights. I manage to walk into the Anthropologie fitting room with four items, all of which are muted earth tones.
Lynn, the lovely lady in the fitting room who “was here to help me in any way” commented, “That’s funny. Most people don’t come here for plain things.”
I know, Lynn. I KNOW. I explained that I like a little color, but not crazy patterns and things. “It’s too much. I’m a big girl.”
“Your personality is already rather big,” she said.
SHE GETS ME.

So, I’ve found nothing, and have a suitcase packed with three dresses I already own, but don't really feel confident about. They’re rather plain, nothing patterned or shabby chic about them. I’m scared I’ll look the way I looked at all the bar and bat mitzvahs I went to when I was a kid—like the financial-aid girl who didn’t have an eating disorder. Which, you know, at my school, was a bad thing.

I’ve got to stop this. I’m not 13 anymore. Besides, no one’s going to be looking at me—it’s all about the bride.

Where’s “16 and Pregnant” when you really need a boost?

See you next week, kids! Enjoy the long weekend! We'll discuss the latest Jewboo to-do, and what to get G-Unit (grandma) for her 94th b-day--the party's gonna be off the chain!!!

Found MYSELF on Youtube!!

Thought I'd share one of my old sets with you, gang.....

This acts as a great reminder, whenever I get stressed out about Jewboo, that things could be worse. They could be WAY worse....



Part 2!

EYES OF A MURDERER

....and the voice of a demon.



Below you can see actor Chris Klein auditioning for a role in Mamma Mia!
Why is he so terrifying?
One friend described the moment when he launches into song as "bone-chilling."
I believe he is correct.



As with every hilarious video I share, thanks must go to KWalsh for bringing it to my attention.
The urge to watch this video came not only out of intense boredom at work, but because I needed something to get the image of "The Human Centipede" trailer out of my head.
I'd link you to it or embed it, but I can't do that to you--I love you all too much.
All I know is, after watching it I felt the urge to cry and desperately wanted my mommy.

Thank god Chris Klein's coked-out eyes and nails-on-chalkboard singing voice snapped me out of my horror-filled frenzy. Clearly, he's still reeling from the loss of Katie Holmes.

Well, with that, I am off to a rehearsal for CONVERSATIONS WITH DEB--LIVE AT UCB!!

You know Deb, y'all. I've been repping her blog from the get-go (check the blogroll). Well, she has far surpassed the blacktress with her own live show at Upright Citizens Brigade. Due to illness, Deb can't be in it, so this requires an additional player--cue blacktress, stage left. You know I'd never let down a Jewess in need, y'all! I play the gripping, complex role of "the narrator."

It's gonna be sweet--way sweeter than whatever the hell Chris Klein is trying to do. MAKE A RESERVATION, AND COME ON DOWN!

OMG! I'm the Mayor of Swoon City!

(Note: This may be my most diary-like blog post yet)
Guys, today is a day of OMGs.
Well, just one really.

Friday, May 14, at 8:42pm, Jewboo said "I love you."
to me.
non-ironically.

OMG!

Clearly, I am questioning his judgment while also planning our wedding. This means we're getting married, right?

Guys, this is kind of a big deal. A man hasn’t said I love you to me since 2001.
(I don’t want to blame it all on 9/11, but we can’t really be sure.)

The way it happened was also so random. I’d go into details, but why don’t I just give you an excerpt from today’s gchat with JJSiii? (of course, I emailed 10 of my nearest and dearest/anyone who’s ever heard me cry about how I’ll die alone to let them know the good news)


JJSiii: OMG.
a la Usher
This is big news.
Dudes expressing feelings, it's not a common occurrence.
Me: I KNOW
JJSiii: PS: I love that you marked the exact time and date.
I want you to get married at 8:42PM on May 14th
Whatever year may be appropriate.
JJSiii: important question: did you say it back?
Me: YES
OF COURSE
JJSiii: well, obvs
Me: you know i've been biting my tongue for, like, three weeks
JJSiii: otherwise it'd be totally awkward
Me: totes
Let me give you a blow-by-blow
JJSiii: Please do!
Me: We got into a stupid fight Friday early evening—you know, cause I was being a crazy person.
We make up, and the plan is for him to come over.
So, he gets to my place.
he comes in
and barges into the kitchen, all angry and cute
takes off his coat
and puts down his bag
and he's standing there and takes a breath, and says, "look. i love you."
i feel kind of dizzy, like i'm in some surreal hyper-baric chamber and this is so insane
JJSiii: haha, you should rent out a giant billboard in times square
just you giving a thumbs up
Me: yep
JJSiii: with the caption "He said 'I Love You'"
ME: hahahah!
who's got two thumbs and a boyfriend that said "i love you"? THIS GIRL!
JJSiii: Yes. It'll be a video billboard
or just one of those scrolling ones
I can picture it in my head
Me: I can’t blog about it…can I?
JJSiii: FYI: There's totally a Degrassi episode about blogging and relationships colliding


Clearly, the conversation devolved into Degrassi-related madness, with a few links to wedding dresses.

Here’s hoping he doesn’t go reading the blog today, people!!!]

I know, I know, I'm such a tween--grown ass women do not act like this (right?). Where's my Justin Bieber poster?