The Client List--Lifetime's Guide to Being a Woman

God bless Lifetime Television. They have heeded the call for access to female stories of tragedy and provided live streaming movies—including the latest, featuring my favorite gal, Jennifer Love Hewitt. I was unable to watch it last Monday, when it first aired, as my job required I go to Pennsylvania to attend an art workshop. Because my company is super cheap and my boss has no regard for anyone's safety or comfort, I stayed in the home of the lovers Jim--two gay retirees, one of whom was leading the workshop I was covering. They were quite nice--although I was a bit put off when they sent me to bed with a book written by Jim #2's sister-in-law, which told the story of "a slave girl and her relationship with a white woman."

Um, okay..... Why do I still work here?

Anyway, not only were 48 hours of my life taken away, but I missed The Client List!! Luckily, I was able to watch it online, and provide live bloggery. Enjoy!

00:00 We open with honky tonky music and scenes of the south. Jennifer Love Hewitt’s EXCELLENT southern drawl fills my ears.
LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #1, courtesy of Jennifer Love Hewitt: JLH to her young daughter, who doesn’t want braces: “no matter what you want to do, it’s better to be pretty. It does a girl no good to be ugly.”
Thanks for the pearls of wisdom!!

01:56 JLH’s mom is played by Cybill Shepherd—classy!!!
02:27 LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #3: JLH, to her mom, before she heads to the bank with her husband to ask for a loan.
“I read that the smell of pumpkin increases the blood flow to a man’s you-know-what, faster than anything.” – This is the key to beating the economic crisis, people!!
04:05 They’re in economic troubles!! She can’t do her physical therapy work, and his knee problem means he can’t do his construction!
JLH leans over the banker’s desk, to reveal her cleavage. Thanks for the close-up on the rack, LT-TV.
05:05 JLH to the loan officer: "What about the government bailing you out to bail us out??"
JLH is making a searing comment on the economic crisis!!!
06:09 JLH recounts the exact words and outfit of the banker on the day he promised their life would be okay. I’m assuming her freakish photographic memory will come in handy when she starts outing her rich sugar daddies.
06:53 LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #4: “Men are easy. 'I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m horny.'”

08:40 – JLH goes to Lareena, TX, to follow up on a massage therapist job!!
Two scary-looking women give her the job right away.
LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #5: Women with bright-red hair can’t be trusted.
10:40 – “Daddy, what’s a hoo-ha?” a young son asks. Everyone cracked up at that one!!!
11:06 – JLH goes to the back of the massage parlour to meet the other girls. There’s a girl who doesn’t look a day over 12, and suddenly JLH gets a bit suspicious (it’s all very “I know what you did last summer”). When asked if the other girls are trained massage therapists, she’s sent over to a “two-way room” to watch exactly what goes on. CUE POT-BELLIED MIDDLE-AGED DUDE getting a handy.
The close-up on JLH's troubled face is intense!!
13:25 – JLH is talking to the Jesus figurine on her dashboard, asking for advice as she drives home—scratch that—to the bar, to pick up her drunk husband!!!
LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #5 – Jesus is my homeboy!!
14:45 – JLH sounds SOOOOOOO SOUTHERN!!
She gives herself a pep talk: “you’re Samantha dale hornton. You’re the prettiest girl this town ever seen, and you get everything you want!!”
16:23 – It sucks being the golden girl and guy of the high school, unable to reach those football dreams!
JLH and her husband don’t even have money for gas to get home. She’s on the brink.
LIFETIME MOVIE LESSON #6:“this is America—a girl this pretty, she’s not supposed to be poor!! I know that sounds braggy and awful, but it’s true…. I am Sam Hornton….I do not let life get me down!!”
17:54 – That’s all it takes to call the massage parlour and get back on the payroll.

21:01 – JLH gets her stripper name. “We’re gonna call you Brandy, cause you look like you go down real smooth….”
We learn a bit more about the other girls at the parlour: “Jenny used to be a bounty hunter”— Um, what?! When asked how they can do this, they all say, in unison: "It beats the hell out of waitressing”
The freakishly young one, who looks like a slutty Dorothy from “The Wizard of Oz” tells her: “I ran away from home to try out for American Idol,” – AMERICAN IDOL TURNS PEOPLE INTO PROSTITUTES!!!!
23:47 – Jennifer Love Hewitt gives her first massage, and ends up giving romantic advice to her client. She then takes her phone to talk to her kid, who won the spelling bee. She is SO BAD AT BEING A PROSTITUTE!!!
25:30 – He gets ready to leave, and JLH gets naked.
25:54 – JLH talks to Jesus on the dashboard, explaining the money, and that she'll only do it for a little while. But Jesus is clearly judging, and she has to pull over to vomit.
26:57 – She goes to her friends bar for “girlfriend talk.” Since when does revealing you’re a prosti-mom count as “girlfriend talk”?
Of course, her friend is shocked, and JLH responds to her look with. “I was just hoping for some sympathy. I thought Pretty Woman was your favorite movie.” Luckily, her friend gets it. “When you work in a bar, you stop judging people.” Really? When I worked in a bar, I was Judge Judy!!

Two gals, just having a chat about one's foray into a prostitution ring. Girl Talk!!!

29:30 – JLH comes homes with presents for all. When hubby asks if they can afford it, he seems relatively satisfied with “We can now.” Um, I know he was playing football all through high school, but how dumb can you be?

[The next minute is a montage of JLH entering her massage room in various slutty outfits, then dropping money on the banker’s desk to pay for her house, then taking her daughter to the orthodontist, then getting bling from customers]

31:58 – LESSONS FROM LIFETIME #7, JLH to her gal pals over lunch: “I love having money. You know I’ve always dreamt of never having to look at pricetags.” MONEY IS THE KEY TO HAPPINESS—oh, and remember to always dream big!

33:04 – JLH and hubby in bed. He’s hurt because she’s the breadwinner and he’s not. She offers him a massage—after all, it’s how she’s making her money!
34:48 – JLH walks into her room and finds the husband of someone she knows. She kicks him out—she’s still classy!!
36:16 – It's Christmas. She gets her husband a brand new motorcycle. Um, ok, how is no one questioning the fact that a masseuse in East Texas is making enough money to buy motorcycles and fancy bling?
37:35 – Slutty Dorothy sees the pastor from her church in a private room!!! OH GOD, EVEN MEN OF THE CLOTH HAVE SEX!!! She runs outside, disgusted, and JLH encourages her to get out the business, and head home.
“I can’t go home, and Idol auditions aren’t for another 6 months.” Yep, that’s it, slutty Dorothy—stick it out til Idol
39:40 – Dorothy goes to the Christian Ministry across the way and speaks to the preacher at the door. “I think god wants me to tell you what’s going on at the massage parlour across the way.”
40:32 – Sam arrives at her son’s game and she’s late!! Oh, the guilt, as evidenced in the spinning close-up camera!! She talks about how she’s tired of being tired.
42:00 – 43:30: Two other girls watch JLH in her private room, to see “why she’s busy as popcorn” (What does that mean??). Well, turns out that awesome memory we saw in the opening scene helps her remember everything about her clients, which is why they love her. She basically gives them The Girlfriend Experience.
44:45 – One of her doctor-clients offers her up some coke, so she can stay awake. She declines, but of course, like every beguiling tempter in a film, the doctor leaves the baggie there—you know, just in case. And, like every woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, JLH puts it in her bag—you know, so the story can continue to get worse.
45:36 – JLH is face-down on her bed, and her daughter wakes her up to tell her to get ready for the bakesale.
How late is she ‘tutin’? I’m not clear on the hours, but I guess giving jobs and acting like you like sex with strangers is tiring, even if she only does it for 9 hours a day.
After slapping herself repeatedly to wake up, and closing her eyes, she says aloud, “whew, I’m tired.” Thanks for the clarification, Lifetime writers!
47:14 – JLH looks at her bag—clearly, where the coke is. She stares it down before reaching for it.
47:32 – The whole family wakes up to the world’s most amazing castle-shaped cake.

THESE ARE THE THINGS YOU CAN DO ON COKE, PEOPLE!!! GET TO SNIFFIN'!! THE BAKESALES OF THE WORLD NEED YOU!

48:00 – JLH sniffs for the next 25 seconds. She’s doing coke, get it?
48:43 – 49:20 – JLH sits at home with the kids. She's short-tempered and tired. Addiction, here we come!!
49:55 – JLH walks into her doctor-client’s room, asking for coke all shaky-like. She tells him she’ll “make it worth his while” if he can get it quickly!!
LESSON FROM LIFETIME #8 - It only takes 50 minutes to become a crack-whore!

51:32 – JLH is in the doctor’s office with her daughter, and takes her to the bathroom so she can pee in the cup (the daughter, not JLH). When the daughter says she can't pee, JLH loses her mind like a Jerry Springer guest!!
51:57 –Bedtime with the hubby. He tires to initiate sex, and JLH says, “not tonight, I just can’t.”
There’s nothing that hurts a former football star more than being rebuffed in the bedroom!! This is the beginning of the end, y’all!
53:17 – JLH is meeting with a client, and the police burst in!!! AAAHHHH!!!! This IS the beginning of the end!!!
54:23 – Cut to the local bar, where the husband watches the game with friends. Apparently, you can interrupt a national football game for late-breaking news, such as busting the local prostitution ring. They see Sam being taken out of the spot in cuffs!!! Aw shit, she was just put on blast!!
55:59 – Her friend, Dee (you know, who loves Pretty Woman) leaves the bar. She’s in the car with JLH, who looks broken down. Like, even more broken down that in I STILL Know What You Did Last Summer. She gets out of Dee’s car, and goes inside. AAAH, I AM SO NERVOUS!!!

57:09 – She walks into a dark house. Her husband turns on the light from his armchair. You know he’s pissed if he’s been sitting in the dark, all creepy-like.
57:43 – Lessons from LIFETIME #9: JLH, to her husband. “Yell at me, swear at me, hit me—I don’t care.”
When you want to get your man back, offer him the chance for physical violence!!! It’s the way to save a marriage.
58:20 – He just breaks down and cries—then tells a story about putting their dog down at the vet. I think the dog is a metaphor for their relationship. Wait, no—it’s a sign of how he used to love her strength. Now, she’ll be forever remembered as a prosti-mom. (sidebar: JLH has excellent crying chops. )

1:00:00 – Cut to a video on the tv—the 1999 Miss Bixby Hills beauty pageant. JLH is watching her pageant video for a little bit of a pick-me-up. “I just wanted to revisit a time in my life when I felt like I was doing everything right.” Ugh, I know how that goes, Jennifer. Sometimes, when I’m feeling awfully low, I just pop in the 5th grade spelling bee and mouth along with some of my best spelling.
1:02:00 – JLH Is in her black friend’s office—she’s a lawyer! She’s looking at 2 years in jail! That is, unless…. “did you have any clients that were prominent members of the community?” She hems and haws until her friend mentions her kids. “We need good names, Sam—we need our Eliot Spitzers and Tiger Woods.” SO TOPICAL!!!
1:05 – JLH proceeds to write down names. Cut to the conference room, where the ‘tutes sit around the table, naming names. There are 69 names on the list! How appropriate!
1:07 – Cut to folks all over town, talking about who may or may not be on the list.
1:08 – LESSONS FROM LIFETIME #10 - ALWAYS MAKE YOUR CHILDREN FEEL CALM. JLH says to her children: “No matter what happens to me, I want you to know my life has been very full because I brought the 3 of you into this world.”
The kids go to the car, and Rex stands with his back to her. He’s got a lone, Navajo-style tear.

1:11 – Thank god there are only 17 minutes left of this.

1:12 – Cybil Shepherd is at the dinner table, and JLH walks in.
“Thank god your father’s dead!” she says.
LESSONS FROM LIFETIME #11 , Courtesy of Cybil Shepherd. “I think my problem is, I gave you too much self-esteem. You were so pretty and so bright, I thought you’d be Miss Texas, or go to Hollywood, or marry a rich man.” - When you’re attractive and somewhat intelligent, the world can be your oyster!!!
1:16 – Women are in the courtroom. JLH has got way too much cleavage out for a court date!! Look:
1:17 – The women get processed as we hear a preacher’s sermon, all about FORGIVENESS.
GET IT????
Seeing JLH behind bars effects me less than the Perdue commercials they keep showing between segments.
1:18 – 5 weeks later!
JLH, looking fresh as a daisy, walks into the kitchen. “It just too darn quiet in here, it’s not natural for a mother of three to be this quiet.”
It’s so boring not having kids or johns.
A car is heard outside. Fancy local women come to the door, and want to talk to her. Why on earth would she let them in her house?!
1:21 – The women want to know how she gets their husbands so excited!! They want tips!
JLH picks up a banana and an apple, and gets to work.

1:22 – Cut to JLH waitressing with the prostitute that used to be a bounty hunter! They celebrate JLH’s birthday with a cupcake--That they SPLIT WITH TWO FORKS
LESSONS FROM LIFETIME #12: No matter what you’re going through, you are NOT ALLOWED TO EAT A WHOLE CUPCAKE, FATTY!
1:25 – Cybil says that maybe she shouldn’t have put all her stock in her daughter’s looks!
1:27 – JLH and hubby Rex share a tender conversation, as we fade to black.
EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE OKAY!!!!

Whew, what a wild ride. I learned a lot from The Client List and I hope you did, too.
I'm gonna go read some Heidegger, to try and grow back the brain cells I just lost.
Happy Monday, gang!

Best Query Ever/To Good to Be True!

As you all know, I work at a magazine that covers art. You know, fruit in bowls, landscapes, that sort of thing.

Well, today I just got the best email from a freelancer ever:

To Whom it May Concern:


I am contacting you to inform you that I am available for part time free-lance writing for your magazine.

A little about me: I am an award-winning writer and actress. My inspirational journal THOUGHTS OF A STRIPPER: A Mother's Story is now available.

A successful actress in independent film, I have starred and have been the subject of several independent films that have screened at over 300 film festivals worldwide. Award-winning films include PHONE SEX GRANDMA, THE ACCEPTABLE SIN, THE OUTHOUSE and THE 60 YEAR OLD STRIPPER. I am currently the subject of a feature film documentary THE OLD STRIPPER, directed by my real-life son.

My novel THOUGHTS OF A STRIPPER: A Mother's Story is an inspirational journal about my intense thoughts as a single parent on a 6 year burlesque circuit in the 1970's.

And my upcoming research novel ANIMAL CRUELTY LAWS IN THE US is soon to be released.

Yes!!! I think she may have to freelance for MY SOUL.
(I'm not sure what that means. I'm just excited)
Who is this woman, with her criminal justice degree, and ability to shake it like a polaroid picture AND drop it like it's hot? I may have to turn the tables and interview her, just for my own personal edification. (sidebar: what's a "research novel"?)
If she can write about strippers, she can write about oil paint. Am I right?

Post-Racial What-WHAT?!

Y'all, have you heard this news:

A Nigerian Couple gave birth to a White baby!!!

No, y'all, the baby is NOT albino.
The baby is not "just light-skinned-ed-ed."

Baby is straight up Caucasian--and momma said she wasn't with the milkman!!!

Dude, this is cray cray! This Obama at work!! HE IS BLOWING OUR MINDS!!!


If this doesn't prove that race is a social construct, I don't know what does. I can't wait for the Discovery Channel documentary on her--or when homegirl gets a book deal!

Glory Days

Hey gang,

Nothing much to report, but I felt compelled to share this hilarious YouTube of an 80s commercial advertising Windows 386, the newest operating system on those newfangled computers back in the day!!

The reasons this must be watched are manifold:
1. The amazing 80s fashions.
2. The fact that it's a commercial, and yet is 7 minutes long.
3. The random rap that the woman performs as she works.
4. The fact that the woman in the video is played by MY FRIEND'S MOM!!!!

Srsly. My friend who decided to give me reparations--aka free improv classes at UCB--comes from television royalty. Yes, I consider this woman to be royalty. When she told me about this video, I was initially shocked, then got distracted--probably by something shiny, or by a breakfast taco--and forgot to look it up later. Of course, in a fit of procrastination two days ago, I found it.

My only regret is that I waited so long to look this up.
Here it is. Enjoy!

I Wish I Lived on Planet Unicorn

Hey Guys,

I'm getting a little worried about myself. I've become totally anti-social. Blacktress used to enjoy people, a good late-night story, and hearing the ramblings of a drunken stranger. Now, my eyelids are getting droopy at 9pm. Friends who I haven't seen in months want to hang out, and I, much like an angry toddler, DON'T WANNA!!! I pretty much only want to watch movies and sleep as often as possible. I was prompted to share this because, in yet another step forward, Jewboo has shared his Google calendar with me, allowing for easy stalking. I've been on the inside for a week, but he emailed me this morning, asking to give him access to mine--and I DON'T WANNA!!!

I asked for his calendar cause he's super busy, with his rehearsals and writing meetings, and film screenings (for an unemployed man, he really packs the time in).
If he were to see my google calendar, he'd see a whole lot of nothing, sprinkled in with therapy appointments and art workshops/classes I don't even want to attend. I tend to make myself busy at the last minute, if I feel particularly loser-ish--or, I just want to stay at home on the free nights. What if he looks at my free days, asks me to do something, and I can't make up an excuse? Will he get offended if I say, "Oh, I can't, I'm busy," and he sees a big fat empty space in my calendar? Then I'll have to explain, "I planned to go home and watch Angel reruns on netflix." That'd make me less attractive, yes?

My current state reminds me of a quote from one of the greatest films of our time--Wayne's World. Wayne, while wooing Cassandra in her hip car, says, "I thought I had mono for a year, but it just turns out I was really bored."

I think I can relate. Of course, seeing people should assuage my boredom, but to me it's just a lot of energy to expend pretending to care about the lives of folks I don't see often enough to really matter. Don't get me wrong--I like humans,they are nice, and their interests in the goings on of a blacktress is much appreciated. But, like, do I have to talk to them? Like, regularly?

Blurgh. Clearly, my autism is flaring up something serious.

Why don't I try to turn this whiny post around with an old episode of Planet Unicorn? It makes me laugh no matter what. Deep in my heart, I am an 8-year-old gay boy named Shannon.

Who’s Got Two Thumbs and a Case of the Mondays??

THIS GIRL!

I am hating on my job, y’all, for serious. I know that I’m lucky to be employed in a recession, but let me have my Monday rant, mmmkay?

When it comes to New Massa, the bloom has faded from the rose, as they say. Like Ian McKellen in “The Da Vinci Code,” he started off nice and enthusiastic, quick to teach me about Leonardo and offer me refuge. However, just as quickly, he turned on me, ready to shoot me in a church and poison me.
(if you haven’t seen “The Da Vinci Code,” then this makes no sense at all. Apologies).

New Massa is a high maintenance older gay—you know, the kind who don’t have patience for your shit because they came up in a time when they weren’t even allowed to love openly? He’s an “I pulled myself up by my bootstraps to become an upper-echelon intellectual at a time when I’d be called gay just for buying oil paints.” So, you know, he doesn’t have time for your, “I’m sick, I have to go home” bullshit. Or your, “it’s 5:30pm, I am done here” exodus. He also has no concept that other people could have things to do, and whatever pops into his head has to be done right away. Oh, and he also likes to schmooze out on the town, promise artists feature articles and things, and then leave us lovely editors to do the writing.

Of course, writing is my job. I enjoy it. That’s what makes this bearable. But when he wants me to spend my time going to events “just to make contact,” that infringes on my personal time. When he wants me to spend all day in Long Island at a workshop when I don’t even have the staff camera to take photos, that means I’ve got to make up that day’s worth of office work—when, exactly? On a weekend? Oh, in the words of Whitney, HELL TO THE NO!

You must keep in mind people: my dream is humor writing and blackting. I am a blacktress. But momma didn’t raise no fool, and it’s about having bennies and some income coming in! So, I work. I pay my bills—and it takes some of the pressure and insanity off the creative process. But let’s not get it twisted—I’m not here for the love of the linen canvas. I’m not in it for the watercolors. This is my job—not my career.

A career is a responsibility that combines interests you have and skills you possess. In exchange for providing your skills and sharing your interest, you are given monetary compensation, opportunity for growth, and steadily increase in your skills and responsibilities.

A job is something you get to pay for your addictions! (you know, like shopping at Crumbs cupcakes) They do not pay me to care. I’m just here to pay for my HPV vaccine and therapy sessions, boo!

Quite frankly, I’m looking for a damn job that pays me more than I paid in college tuition! There is no reason I should leave one of the “top liberal arts universities in the country” with a shitload of debt and the inability to go to the movies without rearranging the finances. Blacktress is trying to break even—is that too much to ask?!

So, here it is, nearly noon on Monday, and I’ve already been at my desk 5 hours, and I’m trying to make sense of an article that is so annoyingly dry and pretentious—and I can only expect to do more of this, as this is the “new editorial voice” New Massa wants to go in. And tomorrow, I”ll be the only person to leave my desk before 5:30, because I have a 6 o’clock call time for a show I’m in. It’ll be blasphemous because, my god, shouldn’t I love art enough to want to stay here all day and into the night? As New Massa said when I went into his office to discuss this last week (I didn’t make it about him, but about “Artists sudden demands on my time”) he said two things that got me:
“Well, it comes down to putting in the hours,” and “It should, of course, be fun. It’s not meant to be painful.”
Well, sir, it is NOT fun—at least, not doing so regularly. And, unfortunately, I have other goals that prevent me from putting in the hours to a job that doesn’t pay overtime.

So, there you have it. Monday rants. How was your weekend, guys?

It's Always Drama With a Blacktress...

Hey y'all. I'm sure you're all waiting with bated breath to hear about what happened with the Jewboo's parents. Well, to make a long story short, it was great.

Wait a second--when have I ever made a long story short? Let me break it down....

We met up to get on the Bolt Bus at 2pm, and Jewboo arrived to find me freaking out because the assortment of mini desserts I'd purchased (all chocolate, since that's what he says the fam likes--holla!) were starting to melt and were all askew in the box, which wasn't the decorative box I'd asked for when I ordered. I imagined his mother feeding them to the cats because they were so hideous. Of course, this lasted through much of the train ride, despite repeated reminders that, "my parents are nice, normal people. Oh, and they're not retarded. They understand that frosting melts in heat."

The plan was for pops to pick us up around 7:30, when he got off of work. As we waited outside of the train station, I was nauseous. I suddenly became fidgety and had to pee. It was like the 6th grade recital all over again.

While we waited curbside for dad's car to pull up, I held Jewboo's hand. He suddenly pointed to a red car and waved. I saw a bald man in a suit with slick black aviators in the driver's seat. He was far too fashionable to be frightening. When he pulled up and jumped out to open the trunk, he hugged me before hugging his son. I instantly felt at ease.
Most of the hour-long car ride to Reading was father-and-son catch-up time, and I was glad to chime in occasionally and laugh at the right times. I found myself comfortable rather quickly, and I didn't feel forced to join in the conversation. I think the whole time I was more nervous about them grilling/interviewing me, and had been mentally preparing to give compelling answers and respond with thoughtful questions. Instead, I felt like they just treated me as though I'd been there all along, and didn't really make a fuss, which I liked. I knew I'd won dad over about 25 minutes into the car ride when he said,

"Blacktress, Andrew told me you were smart, beautiful, and funny, and I must say, he was not wrong."
Score!

Next up was mom, who was at home recovering from foot surgery. She was lying on the couch when I came in, and I shook her manicured hand. Although I'd been told over and over that mom was "chill," I didn't realize just how chill she was. She didn't say much, and seemed sorta perpetually tired--but not in a mean or glum way. She just had a kind of I've-been-laying-out-in-the-sun-all-day-and-I'm-wiped kind of vibe. She didn't really try to chat, but she also didn't make it seem like it was a big deal, so I didn't fight it.

Earlier that day, I'd gone to the lady doctor to get something for my business. She offered me a pill, which I find less messy than the other stuff (ladies, you know what I mean....). I went to take it before going to bed, as prescribed, and within an hour, I was coughing and wheezing. I went to sleep, trying to prop myself up on pillows to make breathing easier.

At 6:30am, after tossing and turning, I sprang up. I couldn't breathe, and I didn't know what to do. I try walking around the room, hoping to get air. My coughing wakes up Jewboo, but I tell him it's ok. I go downstairs, picking up the informational insert to my medicine on my way down. I call my doctor in NYC on the emergency line, but get no answer. I leave a message, but can't really wait for a response, as I read the insert:
Allergic reactions, though rare, may include: shortness of breath, difficulty breathing, tightening of the chest...should these occur, seek immediate medical attention.

I go back upstairs to tell Jewboo we need to go to the hospital. His mom and dad, who heard me coughing, are already up. Dad's getting dressed, just in case we need to go. Part of making a good impression means NOT forcing dad to spend his day off in the ER, so I ask Jewboo to take me to the hospital. He doesn't know where it is, so he and I get into the car and dad drives. He's totally calm about the whole thing, and we have a laugh (well, I just gasp repeatedly) about the fact that the ER entrance has moved since their last visit to the hospital.

We get to the ER at 7am and I'm immediately seen (thank you suburban hospitals!). My lungs don't sound congested and my oxygen levels are high, so it's unclear why I'm having such a reaction. I hand the nurse my prescription, and even bring the Benadryl I took, so they know everything. I'm placed in a room and put in a gown. Jewboo is by my side. It's a very tender/terrifying moment.

For the next hour, nurses buzz in and out, and info is taken. Jewboo is still half asleep, but he's being super chill about this whole thing. When I'm asked about my marital status, he says, dryly, "What if you were married this whole time and this is how I found out?" He's cracking me up, but that's actually doing me damage since I can't breathe, so I just shoot him fake-angry stares.

At around 10am, I'm given a breathing treatment to open up my airways, and blood is drawn. The doctor sees me, and he says they're going to test my blood for a chemical that'll indicate a blood clot. The breathing treatment ends up working, and I'm just waiting for results, taking mini naps the whole time. Jewboo is going back and forth between me and his dad, who he's keeping updated on the status. I keep telling him to send my apologies (and at one point, promise to get Dad a blizzard from Dairy Queen), and we're finally ready for me to be discharged. Although I found the hospital bed quite comfy, I felt bad that Jewboo got no sleep, and dad was spending his free time surrounded by sickies in the waiting room. I asked anyone who came my way about being discharged, and one nurse finally told me that I couldn't just leave--if I didn't sign my discharge papers, my insurance wasn't going to cover it.

That's all I needed to keep my ass right in that bed.

In the meantime, I got dressed, confident I was all well after the breathing treatment. I sat in bed, chatting with Andy, when my nurse, Celeste, came in.
"What are you doing dressed? Your blood test [indicating a blood clot] came back positive, you need a CAT SCAN."

HOLY FUCK.

As I change back into my gown, every episode of House I'd ever seen began to pop into my head. I was also surprisingly calm throughout the entire to-do, as I tend to be when faced with actual problems (not the emotional ones I make up), but suddenly I went into drama-mode. How could I have a blood clot and not know about it? Why did the test come back positive if nothing's wrong? My mother was in Mexico with her latin lover, Julio, and other than Jewboo, there was no one to call. Most of the week, no one had been calling me. I could go into that CAT SCAN, find out I'm on death's door, and no one would care but my boo. It all became very tragic in my head.

I went up for my scan, and came back down. Jewboo was being really strong and positive the whole time, and helped me every second of the way.

At around 2:30pm, the doctor finally came back in. The scan showed no sign of a clot, but I was sent away with an inhaler, in case I had breathing issues later on. He, along with all the nurses, were super apologetic about keeping me so long (bless the suburbs), but I wasn't even angry with them. We made it out a little before 3, and dad and I hugged in the waiting room. We went home and ate bagels and napped, and then had a nice family dinner.

As Jewboo put it, "The moral of this story: always go for the vaginal suppository."

With my life threatened, I think the family felt extra kindly towards me, and we were able to laugh about the whole incident by dessert. When we got home, mom and I had a real breakthrough when we discovered we both love the show Criminal Minds. I got way more excited than I should have, and me and his sis ended up talking about the hotness of Criminal Minds character Dr. Spencer Reid, for, like, 45 minutes.

All in all, I felt like the weekend was a huge success--although, with the ER visit, not exactly the relaxing time I'd hoped for. I feel like Jewboo and I took our relationship to a new level--I was able to see what he's like in a crisis; I know he comes from good people open to miscegenation and into a good police procedural drama; and he's now my official In Case of Emergency contact in the state of Pennsylvania. When we got home Saturday night, he had the following email from mom in his inbox:

From: Jewboo's Mom
Date: Sun, Jul 4, 2010 at 1:45 AM
Subject:

Hi Andy,

[Blacktress] is terrific, so treat her well.

Love,

Mom

Yes!!! I won her over!! Is it wrong to start shopping for wedding rings?

Okay, blacktress out.
Peace!