I'm a Bad-Ass Shiksa Dipped in Chocolate Sauce!*

(*courtesy of my she-ro, Aisha Tyler)

Hey Friends,

I’m back from my latest voyage INSIDE CAUCASIA: Judaism Addition. Starvation actually went pretty well, and things with me and the Jewboo are all good. In fact, yesterday, at approximately 1:41pm, Jewboo and I took our relationship to the next level—it’s on facebook! Yes, y’all. The world knows—including randoms I met abroad, my cousins I don’t like to talk to, and my former camper at the 92nd Street Y who we affectionately referred to as “Hanna Banana.”

I know this isn’t a big deal in today’s facebook.com/facebookthemovie world we’re living in, but I’ve never had the confidence—or the closeness—in a relationship to go public. I never wanted it out there because, you know, just in case we broke up, I could do it without embarrassing myself in front of the whole world. But, you know, after the second visit to the parents’ house (in which I didn’t end up hospitalized—yay!), after fasting for a day out of solidarity, I realized that no sort of pill will get rid of this jungle fever!!!
Oh, and some little tramp was trippin’ and I had to let her know what was up.
Let me explain.
So, Jewboo and I are sitting and breakfast and his mom and dad are around. I told them how he’d changed his profile pic the night before to one of the shots we took after dinner. He then casually goes, “It’s good because now it’ll keep randoms from messaging me.”
“What random?” I said, like a Tyler Perry character trying desperately to reign it in. I know his parents are down with the brown (dad even saw me in my head wrap!), but they may not be ready for some attitude.
“Some girl emailed me after a show.”
Apparently, this happened a week or so ago and he didn’t want to tell me “because I knew you’d freak out.”
Fair enough
“Did you write her back?” I said calmly and sanely.
“Yeah. I didn’t say anything, though.”
We head upstairs to get ready and I let my hair down, so to speak. I wasn’t really angry, but I just needed to know the details so my mind didn’t blow it out of proportion.
First of all, the girl was a tiny Jewess who does comedy (my rival!) and when I saw her email (“Hey, You were really funny last night,” blah blah blah I AM A TRAMP”) in the words of Whitney, I was like, “HELL TO THE NO!”
With him right next to me, I changed my status, cause clearly these girls need to know what’s up. I’m up in suburbia fasting and cracking up the guests with Matisyahu jokes, and trying my best to entertain his monosyllabic cousins—to quote one of the greatest R&B songs of our time, “The Boy is Mine.”

Of course, immediately after changing the status, I worried that I pressured him into it, and had to really make sure I wasn’t acting out of fear or manipulation. I realized I wasn’t, but was worried that finally going public after a good 6-month run would be the kiss of death –you know, like when Marisa Tomei won the supporting actress Oscar for “My Cousin Vinny” and then couldn’t get a job for, like, a decade.

Anyway, things are really good, and I think fasting—although his parents insisted it was not necessary—put me further in everyone’s good graces. I met a lot of people, and it was very strange to be introduced as “my girlfriend,” but, then again, I’m not used to anything remotely normal, so this isn’t surprising. His dad actually said, at dinner, “it’s no secret that we’ve loved you from day one, but we were so glad everyone had a chance to meet you.”
WE’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS FAMILY TIES GOING ON HERE.

Some fun facts I learned during this latest inside trip inside Caucasia :

1. A large dinner of pasta AND a full-sized cupcake won’t do anything to ward off hunger pains the next day. Fasting is fasting, and food doesn’t work like rollover minutes.
2. It doesn’t count as breaking the fast if I take my birth control pill and antidepressant. a. The fact that these are my daily necessities is kind of sad.
3. Sitting in synagogue with an empty stomach is a recipe for inappropriate napping. When you’re a black shiksa, you’ve already got 2 strikes and need to stop the eyelids from drooping!
4. Apparently a strong Jewish woman and a strong black woman are very similar. Jewboo’s mom and I like all the same television shows. A chat about True Blood led to her lending me the entire series of Sookie Stackhouse novels. You know you’re in it for real when mom is giving you literature.
5. Whitefish salad on a bagel is DELICIOUS (who knew?!)
6. Black people still make some White people uncomfortable. (Some folks were not ready for a blacktress up in the synagogue! They hid it fairly well--except for the kid who pointed at me and whispered to his dad during the service)
   

Greatest Antoine Pic EVER

In between carbo-loading and hydrating last night (gotta prepare for YK2K10!) I came online and saw a link from my girl Scribe, who now exclusively associates me with Antoine Dodson. Homey's on USWeekly's website, talking about the new home he and his family moved into with the help of his iTunes earnings!



I am obsessed with this pose--they look like an early-90s R&B duo. Antoine's got the hips of a 13-year-old Korean gymnast. What is his sister doing with that hair? I bet Antoine braided it, too--he should have known better!


(You can read the entire piece here.)

[Sidebar: Do you even think the Huntsville, Alabama, police are still looking for this rapist? I'm surprised he hasn't come forward and tried to get a cut of the family's earnings. After all, if he'd never tried to get in there, we wouldn't have the Bed Intruder hit we have now.]

Antoine's fierce, but he's more than just a flash in the pan, y'all. In the article he says he plans to return to school. "I signed up to finish my Associate's Degree in business," he says. "That way I can take everything to the next level and be on a more professional level."

His ultimate goal? To "open a salon," he tells Us. "Or a hotel."

I would check into that hotel in a hot second, and I'd have him touching up my roots once a week. Even though Kelly's head is a hot mess, do you see how deep-conditioned his strands look?!

Celebratin' YK 2K10

Hey gang!!

So, I’ve been doing this new thing where I get to the plantation an hour early (and promptly fuck around online), just so I can get a moment’s peace (as my grandmother would say) before the massa and annoying coworkers get here, all up in my George Foreman, demanding my time. The last three weeks have been beyond cray cray, with one of the main editors out because his wife just had twins, our art director transferred to Colorado, and New Massa generally being unpredictable, dramatic, and demanding. I think the highlight was when I got to my desk after Labor Day weekend and saw a postcard on my desk. The picture on the card was of 6 drag queens in a forest on Fire Island. On the back my boss had written:
"Found this card in the local grocery store on the island. Can you guess which one is yours truly?"
Yes, yes I can. The one in light-pink taffeta.
Of course, I love a gay visionary, and if he wasn’t so bitchy and untrustworthy, I’d be in love.

Although the plantation is beating down on me like the hot Mississippi sun, I am pleased to report that things with Jewboo are beyond tender. This past Saturday was our 6 month-aversary, and he took it to the next level by giving me the key to his APARTMENT!!! Um, this is out of control. I have a key to the crib. Granted, a blacktress isn’t liable to be jetting back-and-forth to Greenpoint, Brooklyn, but this means that I can officially be his Urkel, rocking up unexpectedly whenever I want to. This is so perfect for my stalker tendencies.

We look so much alike, y'all. Trust me. It's uncanny.

In addition to giving me the key (a move that is straight out of an episode of Grey’s Anatomy), he’s also making me a mix CD, and rumor has it (from his roommate) that it’s TWO DISCS. Um, I think we all know how I feel about making a mix tape for a lover. It’s so real. And since he’s basically a real-life version of the main character in Nick Hornby’s book “High Fidelity,” I know this is equally important to him.

So, some of you may be thinking, “Um, Sojourner, this is a key and some music—you need to be cool.” To those of you, I say: stop hating on me like Willow Smith; if you’ve been a long-time reader, you know I’ve been through some man hell and we need to praise black Jesus for the little things! And if music and keys don’t move you, how’s about this:

This Friday, at 5:30pm, I board a bus bound for Reading, Pennsylvania, where I will spend the weekend celebrating YOM KIPPUR!!!!

Blacktress is about to Jew it up, y’all!!! For those of you who don’t know, let me copy and paste from good ol’ Wikipedia:
Yom Kippur, also known as the Day of Atonement, is one of the holiest days of the year for Jews. Its central themes are atonement and repentance. Jews traditionally observe this holy day with a 25-hour period of fasting and intensive prayer, often spending most of the day in synagogue services.

Yes, y’all. A lot of my friends are saying this is serious, since Yom Kippur is such a holy day. I must say I’m a bit nervous. According to the Internet, not only can I not eat or drink (not even water!) for 24 hours, I can’t even apply lotions!
Jewboo is about to have a blacktress hungry and ashy up in the suburbs!
I have no idea how I’m supposed to make a good impression under such circumstances. When I don’t eat, I get grumpy as hell, y’all. When I’m dry, I feel unpretty, like TLC. Add to that the fact that I gotta sit up in synagogue for the afternoon and I gotta wonder—are these really the chosen people???

Look at this oil painting from 1878. These peeps look hungry and tired as all get-out. Everyone's leaning on stuff for survival, trying to make it through with their low blood sugar. Matisyahu's standing over the guy with the Talmud (is that what it is? I have no idea), too tired to appropriate hip-hop culture. It's looking bleak.

I’m freaking out about what to wear, and have no idea what food I should bring for dinner on Saturday night, when we break the fast. I even emailed his sister with an SOS, and am waiting for her advice. I’m hoping I can live-tweet the entire experience. Look for the hash tag: #YK2K10 on twitter.com/blacktress!

Mark Your Calendars!!

Cause the next best reality show since 16 and Pregnant is about to hit the airwaves!!!

Check out the trailer:



AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Sister wives!!! 1 man. 3 unattractive women. 13 children....AND HE'S ON THE HUNT FOR A FOURTH WIFE!!!


This is why Mormons can't have nice things.
(I don't even know if he is Mormon, but he lives in Utah, and polygamy is generally associated with them, so even if he isn't, he's tarnishing the rep!)

In the words of one commenter on The Daily News website: "I bet these women have lots of yeast infections."

ColorED Commentary

Hey Gang,

Happy Hump Day!! I usually like to start off the work week with a blog, but there was nothing much to report--until today.

So, I just got back from my 11am Starbucks-procrastination run. I was gone for roughly 14 minutes. I come back to find some emails in my inbox in which our publisher (the magazine's overseer, if you will) suggests I emcee a presentation at our upcoming weekend-long painting event.

His exact description was "the painting smack-down on Friday."
Yes, a painting "smack-down."
(*Rolling my eyes so far I'm looking at my amygdala*)

This is why I like to keep personal and work life separate. After I was put on blast for being a comedian, my office thinks I'm the court jester. What they don't understand is that my humour is usually bitter, racial, sexual, and generally NSFW--even my television debut involved me cupping my own breasts!!

What's worse is that they have me teaming up with my office nemesis. I'm sure I've mentioned her. She's the newest employee who lost me the moment she wore leggings and cowboy boots on her first day of work, and goes further in the red every time she says "Have a good one!" and "bye-ya!" at the end of each day. Oh yeah, and in the morning she says "hiya!" It's like I'm talking to a hostess at Chili's. I just want to shake her and be like, "ARE YOU GOING TO OFFER ME SOUTHWESTERN EGG ROLLS FOR LUNCH??"

What's even better is that she, yet again, put my name in the running for something that I have no interest in doing. Looking back over the previous emails in the chain (that I hadn't been included in), she was first asked to emcee on her own. She writes:

"I think that’d be fun. Though I can’t promise nonstop laughs—that’s [Sojourner's] department!!"

Of course, this prompts the overseer to respond with:

"What if you and Sojourner did this together - treat it like a football game, with an analyst and a color commentator? The two of you would be fabulous!"

I think what he meant was colored commentator.

He even said in one of the previous emails, "Our emcee picture has gotten a bit middle-aged-white-guy heavy. Would you like to do the color commentary piece for the painting smack-down on Friday?"

If I had a nickel for every time things got too middle-aged-white-guy heavy, I'd have $45.30. Am I right, or am I right?

Of course, I can't say no. I'll be attending the entire weekend, and it's not like I have anything else to do at that time. I'm there on the company's dime, which means I'm also on the clock 24/7.
Of course, some of you may be thinking, "that's cool, Sojo! You can use your blackting skills at work!"
But guys, this isn't my forte. The California retiree crowd isn't exactly the blacktress' target audience. They want me to "use my skills," without actually being myself, which is pretty hard work if you ask me. What kind of jokes can I make about oil paint? I'm pretty sarcastic, and don't have the passion for art that my nemesis has--I could end up making fun of her out loud in front of hundreds of Caucasians! It could be the end of the blacktress as we know it!

I kind of want to just act really dumb, like Pepper Brooks in Dodgeball (one of my favorite films--yep, I said it.) This is the moment when Jason Bateman came back for me:



I love when he says "Ouchtown, population you, bro!!!"
There's got to be a way to bring that in to a painting "smack-down". Someone's gonna get cut with a bristle brush, I can feel it!

I'm Livid!

Fellow woman of color and writer Scribe just brought the following hot mess to my attention:

Apparently, in Nettleton Middle School in Mississippi, black students aren't allowed to run for class president, and mixies don't even count!!

Look at the class elections handout, which lets students know their place:


This image is courtesy of Jezebel, where you can also find the more-detailed story.

Of course, the obvious levels of wrongness are in all our faces (if you're reading the blacktress blog, you must be down with equality!). What's most terrifying is that in most middle schools, students have to get parental signatures to engage in extra-curricular activities, including student government. This means that several parents and families saw this paperwork and didn't flinch. They signed little Sally's paper, letting her run for class president. Or, even worse, families of color accepted this statement as well. Of course, there is a group of mixed-race families reacting to this news, but why is this the first time we're hearing about this school and their election system? Is it only because now we're supposedly in a "post-racial" America? It seems like now more than ever, all this hidden racism is coming to light.

I mean, several school-board members, PTA moms, and faculty have held this in place for who knows how long. When a mother of a mixed-race child finally spoke up (her child is White and Indian), she said "They told me that they 'Go by the mother's race b/c with minorities the father isn't generally in the home.' They also told me that 'a city court order is the reason why it is this way.'"
Um, WTF?!

I don't even know what to say. There's nothing funny about this. It's terrifying. It's why I can't ever do a cross-country road trip--there will inevitably be some tiny towns where a blacktress can't afford to have her car break down! This shit is real, people.

Oh, before I go, let me take a moment to jot down a quick letter to our southern friends.

Dear People of the South,
These are the kind of bad apples that spoil the bunch. If you'd like a better reputation among citizens above the Mason-Dixon line, don't do shit like this.
Love,
Blacktress!

Paging Dr. Johnson.....

Happy Friday, y'all!! It's not even 10am, and I'm already shopping on VictoriasSecret.com.
As I look for discounted brassieres to keep my lady lumps supported, I keep toggling back and forth between the VS window, the blog post, and our general email account--that way, if the massa or the overseer comes by, I can quickly look like I'm being useful and not buying undergarments (or looking at porn--these Vicky's girls are soooo sensually posed!).

As I procrastinate, I happen upon the greatest press release this year. Of course, I have to share this with you:

Hi, this is [PR Person] with _____ Media Group.

So many men are fed up with their ‘man boobs’ (‘moobs’). Even women often wish something could be done. The nation will definitely want to hear about this new, quick, and safe procedure, so we would be grateful if you could read the press release below and help us pass this information on. The doctor behind this life-changing procedure has appeared on numerous media outlets. If you are interested in arranging an interview with Dr. Johnson, please contact me directly. Thank you.



FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Dr. Johnson separates the men from the boys - and the men from the men with ‘moobs’.
Women are not the only ones concerned about cup size anymore. Now men can quickly and safely have their breasts, or ‘moobs,’ reduced. Dr. [weirdo freaking me out] offers a procedure to eliminate extra fat from and tighten the skin of the pectoral area. When the fat is gone, so are the moobs. Minus moobs, men look and feel much better.
[Blacktress' note: The word 'moobs' has appeared 4 times in 6 sentences. I'm uncomfortable. I'm also not clear on how he separates men from boys. Are we talking conjoined twins, or just elaborate hazing rituals for new clients? ]

The strictest diets and exercise regimes cannot conquer all moobs: this procedure can. The old stigma of men seeking cosmetic enhancement is gone. Moob reduction was among the most popular elective surgeries in 2009, says the American Academy of Cosmetic Surgery. Dr. J----- combines VibroLipo (Tickle liposuction) with SmartLipo to effectively combat the most stubborn moobs, also known as gynecomastia. The recovery period is brief - most patients can return to work the next day. They feel better about their bodies just as soon.

My goodness! It would seem that as I sit at my desk, trying to find products to help me tame my stubborn boobs, many of the nation's men are struggling with their own breast issues!! Although I can try to relate, my problems with this press release are manifold. Let me break it down:
- I work at an ART magazine. We in no way advertise or target our product toward men seeking breast-reduction surgery. How on earth did we get on this PR company's mailing list, and why would they think we'd be interested in such a thing?
- Look, I love a good portmanteau as much as the next grammar nerd. It was kinda cute when the press used the term 'brangelina'; it was saccharine when the freakish couple 'TomKat' came on the scene. But it started getting annoying when people called male nannies 'mannies,' and now MOOBS is just out of control. I don't know why any medical professional would want to be affiliated with creating a ridiculous word of this nature. His credibility has instantly been undermined. Imagine swirling your brandy glass at a dinner party while the guy next to you says, "I just saw Dr. Johnson--he's a leading moob specialist."
Um, I have to go....over there.
-I love how the PR guy says "the national will definitely want to hear about this..." Um, I'm not quite so sure about that. The nation? Really? I think there may be more pressing news briefs that warrant national attention.
- "The most stubborn moobs" -- hahahaha!!!