The Tale of a Boy and His Horse

I saw him, guys.
I saw Harry Potter live and in the flesh last night.

From row B in the orchestra, the boy who lived was practically in my lap. Here's the breakdown:

For those of you who don't know, Equus is a straight play written by Peter Shaffer in 1973, based on a true story of a young boy who blinded six horses--well, the incident itself is true, but Shaffer went on to create a portrait of a young person who would do such a thing. Told through the narration of the boy's psychiatrist, we jump back and forth through time as we piece together what could drive him to be so cray.

HP is the first onstage, and he is SHIRTLESS. I knew this was going to be good--although I was already in hopes when, before the lights dimmed, my mother leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, "We're gonna see Daniel Radcliffe's balls."

I've never head my mom say "balls." This is what bonding is all about.

Anyway, the first thing I noticed were the crazy connections between Equus and the HP story.
1. The psychiatrist is played by Richard Griffiths--the very actor who plays UNCLE VERNON in the HP films!!! OH EM GEE!
2. With HP's nudity being a major selling point, his wand is just as vital in the stories as it is in this play.
3. At one point in the play, Alan Strang (HP's character) is reliving the moment leading up to his terrifying act, and he says, "He was in the way!"
"Who?" says Uncle Vernon.
"You know who!!!!" Alan screams.
Um, if that's not Voldemort, I don't know who is.

The character of Alan Strang is a troubled boy with a sexual fascination/love for horses. In the play, 6 male actors who wear large metal horse heads represent the creatures. When Alan is with a horse, he strokes their chest and rubs his hands all over their body, which in turn gave the blacktress a sexual eruption! Note to self: be willing to play a non-speaking role in a Broadway show, on the off chance that it will entail being stroked by Daniel Radcliffe.

When he remembers a moment of riding a horse, Harry/Alan is orgasmic as the animal gallops. He speaks aloud to the therapist, describing the feeling of preparing the animal for a ride.
"No saddle?" the therapist notes.
"Never," Harry answers seductively.
Holla! HP likes to ride bareback!

From my close vantage point, I can tell you that Harry is quite petite, probably 5'6" tops, and is built like a soccer player--strong, compact legs and a little torso. GOD, this is so frustrating!! How are we supposed to have a mixie master race if he's going to be height deficient?!

He also had facial hair--a sort of chin strap that did not do him justice. I can't really handle his attempt at aging. Being the Brit that he is, he is obvi pasty pale (all parts of him, my friends), I could see a little rash on his upper arm--do you think he's been in communal showers lately?

And, of course, the information you all want:
the peen.

All I can say is this: While Harry was dynamic and mesmerizing on stage, I believe his penis must have had a case of stage fright.

Seriously, it was tiny.
I know the theater was a bit chilly, so my immediate thought was, "Okay, Sojourner, it's just shrinkage. He's freezing. It's okay."
But then, like, as I looked at it more and more, I realized that it was just mini.
And then my heart died a little.
I'm sure any men reading this will be offended and hate me, since penis size is such a sensitive subject. But, like, really, size isn't a make-or-break attribute. However, when you've dreamed of a boy wizard--nay, the BOY WHO LIVED--you want him to LIVE up to your (s)expectations!

After the show, my mother and I were on the train reading our programs. Suddenly she says, "See what good self-esteem men have? That's why women need to stop hating their bodies. Harry did not even need to take off his drawers."

Oooooh, third-degree burn, mom.

But she was kinda right.

Oh Happy Day!!

In T minus 2.5 hours, I will be in the 3rd row orchestra of the Broadway play "Equus."
Or, as I like to call it, "Harry Potter Penis."

I don't think I could be more excited.
Wait, does that make me a pedophile? Don't answer that.

I'm going to see the show with my mother, because she's really into bonding before I leave (one week left--aaaahhh!). However, we usually go see musicals since we love a good spectacle. Although we've been talking about seeing Wicked for ages, I just felt it was behoovy of me to see the nude frame of the only man I'll ever love.

The play is a bit strange and involves horses, bestiality, and psychotherapy. I've already been sent several links to blurry camera-phone pictures of Mr. Potter's magic wand, but they do not do the boy wizard justice.

My mother is a bit put off by my interest in HP's...P. How does it make you feel? I think was gets her the most is that I refuse to call him by his real name. She says, "It's as though you can't separate Daniel Radcliffe from the movie character. They aren't the same."

"Um, YOU'RE not the same, lady!"

Sometimes I'm not very clever.

I'll be sure to provide a detailed synopsis and play by play of...the play--and Harry's um, major prop first thing tomorrow.




OH MY GOD. LOOK AT THAT BANGIN' BOD. I WILL GET TO SEE HIM WITHOUT PANTS.

Jennifer Hudson Has to Give Her Oscar Back

Um, as many of you probably know by now, blacktress and Oscar winner Jennifer Hudson is engaged to David Otunga, a young black Harvard-educated lawyer. This would be quite exciting and precious if only David had not been a contestant on I LOVE NEW YORK.
I think we all know from previous posts, how I feel about New York (aka Tiffany Pollard).
If you don't, here's the basics: she's a tranny hot mess who is one of the reasons black people can't have nice things.

David--known as Punk on the show--made it pretty far along, professing his love to New York and even welling with tears when he was rejected. He was fired from his job for appearing on the show (whether he just took too many vacation days or his firm was simply as embarrassed by his antics, I don't know--but the results are the same).

How the hell could J-Hud do this to me--and to blacktresses everywhere?! They couldn't have been together more than a year and a half, so even if he wasn't a spotlight-seeking fool willing to do anything for the cameras, I'd give them little chance of success. But the fact that this man appeared on national television and signed a "blood oaf"--yes, "oaf" is how New York pronounced it--saying that he was "here for New York" just breaks Sojourner's spirit.

What do you think J-Hud is thinking? How do you think he explained himself to her on their first dates? When someone brings up his reality-show past, does she allow him to speak of it? I get that he's a body builder and all, and he's edjumucated, but the whole "I Love New York" thing is probably the biggest red flag a man could ever wave--am I right?

I don't know, this just depresses me a little.



Effie White, how could you do this to me?! This was worse than that time you got knocked up by Jamie Foxx's character and cut off communication with the other dreamgirls!!!

Thanks For the Boost, Guys

Most of my friends are quite happy and excited for my impending journey to Oz—they support my desire to pose as Michelle Obama, and I think some of them may even respond to the emails I’ll send once I’m in a foreign land away from everyone I know. What’s been funny, though, is the way in which they choose to show their support. Often, it comes in the form of an email or Facebook wall post containing a link to some crazy and/or dangerous Australian happening.

For example:

Qantas Faces Special Safety Probe
Oh, cool. The airline I’m flying has safety issues. I think the best part of this tidbit was that it was preceded by, “Just looking out for you…” Girl, unless you got a parachute or a private jet, I have no alternative but to hop on my unsafe Qantas jalopy and hope for the best!

Then, of course, came the harrowing news of the Man Drought—which was sent to me by three different people.

We all know I didn’t take this information well. However, dear Eli Reed informed me that she and her homegirls were doing just fine with the menfolk, so my fears have been temporarily assuaged.

The news that the Mayor of Mt. Isa seeks ugly women to help the rugged men find love also gave me a bit of a boost.


This latest tidbit of Ozzie info, sent to me from my homegirl in LDN, just makes me terrified:
Monster Pig Traps Aussie Woman in Home


I cannot leave the confines of the city center. My favorite line from the article is, "It's a beautiful male pig but he's just so big and so pushy," she told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Lady, if I had a nickel for every time a beautiful male pig was big and pushy, I’d have $2.15.

How to Draw a Portrait

Man, with just two days left on the plantation, I am chomping at the bit. As I finish up projects and answer phone calls from people who may or may not have metal plates in their heads, I don't know if I'll really miss much. But then I remember the wisdom that springs forth from these artists. The gems just keep coming. Take, for instance, one of my last assignments: I'm writing a review of this book on how to draw faces, and the artist-author is a real random. Such asides include, "One of the hardest part of drawing a children's portrait is getting the little beast to sit still. I think God will forgive us for working from photographs in this case."

And, in the section on how to capture facial expressions, he writes:

"Here we see a hint of a smile. I can keep a woman smiling until she realizes she despises me, but if you can't, try the following strategy. Ask the model to smile for 30 seconds..."

I'd been trying to ignore these random asides and focus on the instructional highlights, but the following, in the section on avoiding common mistakes, just could not go un-blogged:

"Here are some tips for dealing with criticism...Ask yourself, 'If the model is attractive, would you date your drawing?'"

W
T
F
?
!

How to Set Up A Still Life

That's the title of the article I have to write for work.
I've been emailing various still-life artists, asking their advice for beginners. It's been a real snooze-fest....until now.

Here's a bit of advice one artist sent me this morning:

Very important: Put things together,which works well together,which create harmonies.Its not harmonious,when you paint a beautuful flower bouquet,and on the bottom near the vase you place a half full ashtray or a open package with condoms.


How true that is.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?? / Sojourner May Not Be Suitable for Children...

Well, technically, guess who went to dinner--ME!

Last night was dinner at the boss's place--massa let Sojo into the big house, y'all!!

I arrived with a 6-pack--of juiceboxes--and a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift for the adults. I was instantly greeted by 3-year-old Timmy,* who is really into trains. As massa cooked, I chatted with his new missus** (who actually used to work on my plantation, too, and currently freelances, so we weren't total strangers) and drank some of the wine that they'd already opened. We mostly discussed my impending move Down Under, and entertained the young one. After a few minutes, I noticed that everyone was shoeless, and asked if they preferred I took my shoes off.

"Oh, no, it's fine, whatever you prefer," said Massa.
"Oh, good, um, I'm going to keep them on because I've got a short-pants/ankle-socks situation that the boots are hiding, and it's very unflattering."

I think he understood.

Anyway, dinner was quite pleasant and low-key, and I didn't slip up by, you know, talking about how I can't wait to leave my plantation. In fact, my heart was actually warmed when the massa told me that the big massa (the overseer, if you will--will you?^) has been interviewing potential successors and singing my praises to each of them, basically telling them, "you've got big shoes to fill, and from the looks of it, you can't handle clown shoes."

Or, you know, something tender about me.

Anyway, the thing I like about little kids is that in new situations, they force everyone to focus on them, thereby taking attention away from the guest/new person/or cousin with Elephantitis. I didn't finish my dinner (it was delicious, I swear!), and started to feel guilty, when little Timmy (who clearly had left the table long before the adults and was amusing himself) came back and asked me to wear a mask and a conductor hat and let him ride on my back as though I was a human train.

Who was I to deny the cherub this wish? (As you know from previous posts, I have a way with the children.)

So there I was, in a mask that obscured my vision and a hat fit for a toddler, yelling "Choo Choo" and prattling on about Thomas the Tank Engine in front of my boss and his future wife.

Yep, the blacktress has no shame.
It really helps that my massa and I have a rapport, and he finds me pretty funny. Turns out the future wife shares his sense of humor, and, like, Sojo, she is really rational with children. Take, for instance, the following dinner time excerpt:

Timmy: Mommy, I'm hungry.
Mom: Well, Timmy, you didn't eat your dinner, and dinner time is over. You can have milk, or an apple.
Timmy: I don't want an apple! (pouting, of course, ensues)
Mom: Well, what about a glass of milk?
Timmy: I don't want milk. ("Oh my god, do I see a glisten of a tear?" I wonder as the scene goes down)
Mom: Well, Timmy, I don't know what to tell you.

HAHAHAHH!!! That's exactly how I will be if I ever accidentally get knocked up and decide to carry my kid to term and raise it myself.
Seriously, you've got to be logical with them, you can't let that ranting and whining go unchecked, or you'll end up with a brat.
In the end, he went for the apple and was quite pleased.

After the "human-train" incident, Timmy and I had really bonded, and he ran into his room and returned with The Cat in the Hat.
"Here, you be the teacher!" He said to me, as he pulled me over to the living room chair. He nestled beside me so I could read to him. (Tenderness!!!) He then made his mom and my massa sit on the floor in front of us so that we could read to them.

Oh my god, I was about to conduct story-time to my boss.
For serious, guys. I cannot make my life up. Is this normal?

As I said earlier, I don't really go for baby talk with the little people (or with dwarfs). I also have a tendency to see the seedy, sketchy, darkly humorous sides of so many of children's shows and books (see my serious analysis of television show Max and Ruby, for more). As a seasoned comedic veteran, I know the importance of connecting with the audience. While I had a 3-year-old who wanted to read, I also had two adults who were not about to sit through Cat in the Hat while seated on the floor. I had to provide a literary experience that would reach them all.

So, here, for your reading pleasure, is the completely improvised (and then quickly written down on the subway home) version of the Cat in the Hat, as told by Sojourner to Massa, his future wifey, and the cutest little boy ever.

PLEASE NOTE: The underlying goal of my story was also to help get little Timmy drowsy and ready for bed (it was, after all, already an hour past his bedtime!).

THE CAT IN THE HAT: BLACKTRESS VERSION

The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play.
So we sat in the house
And tried to sleep the day away.

I sat there with Timmy.
We sat there, we two.
And I said, "How I wish you were older
so I could be friends with you."

Mom wasn't home
'cause she was making ends meet
So we sat in the house
And wondered what we would eat.

But all we could do was to
Sit!
Sit!
Sit!
Sit!
And we did not like it.
Not one little bit.

And then
something went BUMP!
Sally reached for the phone.
I said, "Oh god, why did mom leave us alone?"

We looked!
Then we saw him step in on the mat!
We looked!
And we saw him!
The Cat in the Hat!
And he said to us,
"Why do you sit there like that?"
"Tomorrow's school, but don't be weepy
We can have the kind of good fun
that will make you nice and sleepy!"

"I know some good games we could play,"
Said the cat.
"I know some new tricks," [Ed. Note:Watch for child molesting]
Said the Cat in the Hat.
"A lot of good tricks.
I will show them to you.
Your mother
Will not mind at all if I do."

Then Sally and I
Did not know what to say.
Our mother was out of the house
For the day.

Who were to deny a feline in fancy dress?
The times would be good, we expected no less.

But our fish said, "No! No!
Make that cat go away!"
See, the fish is a buzzkill [Young Timmy looked at me blankly at this point]
cause he does nothing all day.

Then the cat let out a yawn,
and said, "fish, kill that noise.
"We're gonna have some fun,
then sleep soundly--and poised."
"I have a game called,
INDOOR VOICES, PLEASE--
It's where everyone stops yelling
And jumping on his knees."

[Improvising in rhyme is hard--especially when you have to keep it PG.
I made it about that far when Timmy got distracted and they went and got Goodnight Gorilla-- a completely unsanitary tale about animals breaking out of their cages at the zoo and going into the home of the zookeeper so they can sleep in his bed.
Ew.]

Well, even though I couldn't make it to the end for Timmy, here's where the story was headed.

"The cat was acting totes wired
But Sally and Timmy were really tired.
They wanted the fun, but knew they had a big day ahead
So they said, 'hey cat, come back tomorrow,
we're gonna go to bed.'"

"But what about your mother?
Don't you want to say hi when she gets in?"
"No," said Sally,
"She'll probably be surly, and will
undoubtedly be reeking of gin."

So the Cat sighed, and almost cried.
"No one every wants to play me!
This is why I resort to breaking and entering!"
Sally and her brother just shuffled up the stairs.
Hardened by life as latchkey children,
they just yelled back, "Dude, who cares?"

As they tucked themselves soundly in their own beds,
The cat sat in the living room,
balancing the fish bowl on his head.
He then went searching in the cupboards, for a little late-night nip
As tears poured down his cheeks, he said,
"Step 13--it's okay if I have one little sip..."

THE END.

Take that, Seuss!

Dude, he so has an addiction.

*Name has been changed to protect the innocent Caucasian youth.
**How do you like them apples?! Massa did the cookin' while Sojo did the drankin'!
^If it makes you uncomfortable, you can just call him "editor-in-chief," which I guess is "technically his title."