A Portent?

Y'all, this BHM is starting off WRONG.

I have been on the plantation less than hour and have already received two pieces of news that have shaken my young, gifted, and BLACK world. I can't be alone in this.

1. Don Cornelius, creator of Soul Train, was found dead in his home this morning, of an apparent suicide.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Don, you created the longest-running show in the history of television! You showed white people how to dance! You provided the basis for countless episodes of sitcoms!

He is, in short, an AfAm Icon. Today of all days, this hurts. And what hurts even more is that it's been buried at the bottom of news and pop-culture websites.

2. While sitting at my desk, my coworker two cubes behind me exclaims. "Holy shit." I need to know the cause, natch. Apparently, "Pfizer just recalled 1 million packets of birth control pills in the US because they may not actually prevent pregnancy." Of the three generic brands, one of them is used by the blacktress!

Y'ALL! THIS IS NOT OKAY. I can't be ringing in BHM Juno style!

Can you imagine a bunch of mini blacktresses and Jewboos running around?! They'd be all kinds of neurotic (cause they're the Jewish spawn of two aspiring comics) and neglected (cause they were accidents). I don't have enough money for dreams, let alone prenatal vitamins! Not to mention the fact that I get weary just watching a Law & Order marathon, so you know late-night feedings would be out. AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I have no one to share this with, as my coworkers find it a bit "inappropriate" that I told them I used one of the brands that have been recalled. Of course, I turn to you, gentle readers. We need each other now more than ever.

In hopes of turning this day--nay, this month--around, I'm going to share what I planned to write about this morning, before all of this earth-shattering news hit my brainhole.

Thank god for JJSiii. Whenever a blacktress is down, he knows exactly what to send from the interwebs to remind me that life's worth living. On Monday, it was an invitation to join his RuPaul Fantasy Drag Race team.

Today, he sent along a music video so amazing, I don't even think I have the words for it. I will let it speak for itself. Please, enjoy. You're welcome.



After writing what I thought were the lyrics, I ran them against JJSiii and found we were on the same page. Clearly, English isn't Andrew Doriane's first language, but bless him for putting his feelings out there. For those who may be having trouble deciphering, here's the breakdown:

“Breath of the ocean / Tranquil emotions / I’m feeling so safe in her arms / One thing is clear / Heaven is here / With her, I can reach for the stars / Looking at us...

CHORUS: Somehow she’s like gay / I’ve always had this feeling / even deep inside / She has been playing gay so real that I believe it / Am I losing my mind?

“No one except her / Keeps me protected / From different storms on my way / Her guessing my wishes / Makes me suspicious / She knows me for (??) what I think / God, she’s like gay

(repeat chorus)

Somehow she’s like gay, because she seems to know men as well as gays do / She must be playing gay with me so I can only be like lesbian too

(repeat chorus)

Gay (echo, echo, echo)”

Thanks, JJSiii!!!

This is why black people can't have nice things.
Yep. I said it.

(Image courtesy World of Wonder)

Ready for my Close Up

Hey boofaces,

Can I call you 'boofaces'? I just love y'all so much!
I'm in a weird mood.
I have cramps.

Anyhoozle, I got headshots done on Sunday, and it was actually quite fun. I normally hate having my picture taken, and the last time I got headshots done back in '06, the photographer asked me if I'd "consider working on this other project of mine" when I went to pick up my CD of images.

He then proceeded to show me images from this other project: black-and-white photos of naked ladies.
"I think you'd be great for this because you've got a great personality and a great figure."
Listen, buddy, flattery will get you everywhere, but not everywhere.

Needless to say, I was a bit traumatized.
Add that trauma to my general fear and laziness with regard to my blackting career, and it's taken me way too long to get headshots. But, you know, as they say, "better late than the early bird catches the hand in the bush"....or something like that.

I got my shots done by this gal named Ari, who does headshots for a lot of the UCB comedians, and she was super cool. We met in her apt, and not once did she ask me to drop my pants. She just used natural light and we did four different looks, and it actually turned out really well. We talked about how comedy dudes are weird, why UCB needs more diversity (not just of color, but of experiences, so all scenes aren't about the same shit every time), and how she manages to make money from her creativity. She is a strong black woman in a Caucasian candy coating.
I like her a lot.

I can't tell if this is ridiculously narcissistic, or fun, so let's just see what happens. Here are some fun shots from the shoot:
OMG, I'm so wholesome! I think this'll be the main one. Thoughts? Give it a yay or nay in the comments.


The vibe here is very 19th-century maiden, wandering through the parlour in a fainting coat.



I was really trying to hide the fact that I'm was wearing bright-pink underwear under a sheer knit dress, but I ended up giving off more of a "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" vibe.



And this next show, dear readers, is what happens when you let elite gay visionary JJSiii work his Photoshop magic on your "Law and Order shot" at the workplace, all because you joked, "I'd love to be surrounded by twinks in real life."
......NSFW!!!!

I'm now one step closer to becoming a gay icon.

What's up with you guys today? I'm gonna take some Advil and do some work, I guess. It's 10:01 and I've actually started nothing. The New Massa isn't in til 11:30 (he's at a photo shoot--how fierce is that?!), so I think it's behoovy of me to keep kickin' til then. Let's see what's hot on the interwebs.

Best Pep Talk Ever

I head off to the VH1 shoot in about 30 minutes, and boy is my stomach in knots! Luckily, I have Kwalsh and JJSiii to give me the boost. I'd like to share with you their words of wisdom--perhaps you can pass it on to a friend in need:


JJSiii:You need to be in my television
Me: I want ot be in your television. As a picture-in-picture box on the lower-right corner.
JJSiii: YES, I WAS JUST THINKING THAT
I want a Sojourner-box.
Ew, that sounds wrong.
But you know what I mean.


KWalsh: you can do this
you're Hilary Swank and i'm clint eastwood
in my 'million dollar baby' scenario
go get 'em champ!
not with the tragic ending of course

With those words of encouragement, I feel strong. I feel solid. I'm ready for my close-up.
But, um, only on my left side, mmkay? That's my good side.

Shameless Cross-Promotion

Hey Gang,

Today, Sojo is appearing on another blog - JJSiii's "This is the Money Shot." Check it out, and read the embarrassment that is my musical tastes.

Seriously, it's so bad that I sometimes can't even look at myself in the mirror.

Hint: Think Ghost Whisperer.

Teaching tools

Ok, so I'm supposed to be watching 'Teen Mom' right now, but I don't have MTV access at the moment - but don't worry, I'll holla at it from the plantation and live blog it for you ASAP.

In penance, I bring to you the finest song of our time (brought to my attention by JJSiii). You have to listen to it.


I think this should be a teaching tool for Teach for America newbies everywhere - and even the old pros like Sorcia McNasty. You've got to speak to the inner city youth in the language they know - the language of hip hop. If you need proof, just watch "Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit." This song teaches wayward youth to do the basics: read a book, brush their teeth, and drink water - you need it! I think our literacy rates would increase tenfold if we had Project Mayhem making the lesson plans.

I am so obsessed with this song, I'm buying it a present for Kwanzaa.

Poetry In Motion

Hey Gang,

I've got no particular reason to blog at the moment, but I felt compelled to do so because I AM ON A MOVING BUS, BOUND FOR BOSTON.

I am blogging on a bus!
Technology is fucking insane in the membrane.
Just when I was finally mastering and accepting the iPod as a concept, here comes Bolt Bus, with it's free wifi and outlets at every seat. All this, for only $15!!! Holla at a recessionista! I'm heading to Boston to clear my head and reconnect with my main gay, JJSiii. Nothing says "I'm over you and doing me" like Cape Cods on Cape Cod!

Anyway, while I'm here (CAUSE I CAN BE), I guess I'll give you a follow-up to the bicycle random.

So, I threw out his card but remembered his name, so I could find out who the heck this crazy was. I found him on facebook and it turns out we have a mutual friend - a girl I went to school with. I had to know how she knew him - was she, too, a victim of his cycling? Just last night, she appeared on my gchat list. Here's the scoop:


BLACKTRESS: GIRL!!!
i have something very random and important to ask you
[a few minutes go by, i briefly leave the computer]
WOMAN: this sounds like it mite b spam
Blacktress: so, basically, i was bothered on the street by this guy
he wouldn't leave me alone until i took his card
i'm not interested, cause he was mildly predatory, but i had to look him up. you came up as one of his friends on facebook/our mutual friend. i must know how you know this character
his name is Marc W
Woman: ewwww
hes my uncles friend dont call him
Woman: he facebkd me, but i dont really know him
Blacktress: oh good god
your uncle's friend
girl, you need to read the transcript of our conversation
i was real pissed and angry with this fool
followed me ON HIS BIKE
i had to make him go away cause i was almost at my door and didn't want him to know where i lived!
Woman: yea, he is stalkerish, he tried to get me to cook him dinner for like 2 yrs
Blacktress: oh my god
girl, this is too good
the insanity
Woman: he helpd me w/ my resume like 1 time... borderline insane
hes like functional psycho
that sucks tho,im srry
Blacktress: you just painted the very picture i expected
Woman: i thnk the bike is a midlife crisis thing


OMFG, guys! Homey is her uncle's friend!!! She's a grown woman like me, so her uncle has to be nearing retirement. This would put this guy in the 40-something range AT LEAST, right? He helped her with a resume and kept asking her to make him dinnner???? What a weirdo!

Thank god I'm on a bus outta town. The men in NYC are toxic - and not in the fun, Britney way.

Harry Potter-- the Musical!!!!

This is the greatest thing I have ever seen. Many thanks to JJSiii.

I think my obsession is rekindled.

Follow Me...Follow me to my bedroom

That's a lyric from a song by Craig David.
But that's not the point of this post.

If you notice, about a week ago I added a new feature: "follow this blog." I'm quite excited to see that I now have 10 followers, as I was unsure if anyone would end up flocking to the blacktress. However, my intense narcissism and God complex requires I have at least 12 followers, so I can call them apostles. As follower you'll say aBREAST of the blacktress's latest bloggery, which must be a good time. Since I'm not a daily pop-culture blogger, clicking the "follow this blog" on blogger lets you know when to spend your workday procrastinating, allowing you to procrastinate in an efficient manner.
Efficient procrastination?! WTF, blacktress?! you're thinking.
I just blew your mind, didn't I?

Speaking of followers, elite gay visionary/music reviewer/person who told me to start a blog in the first place--JJSiii--is up for the role of Queerty's music reviewer. You should definitely read his review (he's in the top 5!) and the other 4, then vote for him. Quite frankly, he loves music, isn't condescending or pretentious, and supports a blacktress-what better reviewer for a gay website?!

Holla at it and vote for him here.

xoxo,
blacktress with a god complex

Forget Me Not

Last night, while hanging out with my main gay JJS iii, I received a voicemail from a man with whom I engaged in a makeout session Saturday evening. I was mildly excited to see a missed call from an unidentified number, and had a sneaking suspicion it might be him.

The male in question was someone I had met months earlier at a stand up comedy show (we were both performing), and his wry wit and inherent dorkiness endeared him to me, and I asked him if we could go on a date (you know this blacktress is upfront!!). We went on a semi-date, and while there was a fun comedic rapport, I could tell he had about as much interest in me as a gay man has in a vagina.
But he isn’t gay.

Cut to 5 months later—May 10, 2008. At the party of blacktor Victor Varnado, the comedian/disinterested date and I are reunited, and there is much merrymaking. He’s suddenly all up in a blacktress’s George Foreman (grill) like a horndog on prom night, and I wonder what has changed. I figured I best not over-think it, especially with me Australia-bound in a few months time—now, more than ever, we don’t love these hos. I figured I could get my makeout on and end up just fine.
We had a nice time, and there was a bit of me that felt a little boost from getting with an unrequited crush, even though I was no longer crushing. I felt all was right in the world. Perhaps, like Joni Mitchell, he didn’t know what he’d got til it was gone, and now he was carpe-ing the diem and getting with this.
He kissed me again, before leaving the party at 3am, apparently to “go fishing with a friend in Long Island City, Queens”—a sentence that made little sense at the time, but I thought it best to overlook it.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear his voice on my answering machine Monday evening.
That is, until the message went on.
It went something like this:

Hey Sojourner, this is D-Bag McGee. It is 6:30 on Monday and I have an incredibly awkward question to ask you, and that is…uh…what did we do Saturday night at Victor’s party--because I have no recollection whatsoever because I drank too much and my mind is absolutely a blank slate, so there’s a big question mark as to what happened at Victor’s party--did I break some windows, did I steal things? I have no idea what happened, and uh…yeah…. [then, the following he said in a sing-song voice]: I hope everything’s okay, I hope I didn’t do anything bad, I feel embarrassed and awkward, bye!

I. Shit. You. Not.
I literally just transcribed the message from my phone, where it is eternally saved.

I honestly think when I was born, the man upstairs looked at my wet, placenta-juice-covered body and said, “let’s give this one something to blog about.”

Now, some of my most loyal readers know that I, too, have engaged in too much drink in one evening, and suffered from what I am now calling a Whiteout (see Friday Night Amstel Lights for details). I mean, we’ve all been there.

But we do NOT go there with a blacktress.

W. T. F?! I mean, nothing is more insulting than calling someone and saying, “I don’t remember making out with you.” This was no random mid-dance smooch. This was much dirty dancing foreplay (foreplay is MORE play—holla!), and then a hard-core makeout session, which was briefly interrupted by the party host (who jumped on top of us and called us tramps) and then resumed!!! It was then followed by a long conversation in the living room, where I sat on his lap as though he was Santa and he told me I was really hot and cute (I mean, he was speaking TRUTH, obvi).

How could he blackout on a blacktress?!

You know I called that bitch back posthaste and let him know what was what. Our conversation went something like this:

[phone rings. He answers.]
Sojo: You are such a d-bag.
D-Bag: What?
Sojo: I said, you are such a d-bag.
D-Bag (hesitantly): Why?
Sojo: We made out last night.
And I’m pregnant.
And I’m keeping it.
D-Bag (a quiet terror): Ha…?
Sojo (as though speaking to the character of Corky from the television series “Life Goes On”): Seriously, we made out. Like, what?! You don’t remember?!
D-Bag (quiet terror still seeps through the phone lines): No…. I just, like, don’t remember anything. The last thing I remember is us all talking in the DDR room, and then me waking up at my friend’s place.
Sojo: Well, you missed a good time, D-bag McGee. You should have been there.
D-Bag: I was soooo out of it.
Sojo: I’m sorry you were “so out of it,” I didn’t mean to take advantage of you by letting you kiss me. If I’d known you weren’t in your right mind, I certainly wouldn’t have put my lips on yours.
D-Bag: No, no, you shouldn’t feel bad, it’s my fault.
Sojo: I was being sarcastic. Of course I don’t feel bad—if anything, I now have the upper hand, because you feel silly.
D-Bag: God, I was sooo drunk.
Sojo: Um, could you stop saying that? You’re making me feel bad.
D-Bag (taking long pause): Um….sorry, I’m here, I’m just digesting all this….
Sojo: You blacked out on a blacktress!!!!
D-Bag: Yeah, um….
Sojo: You might want to handle your alcoholic scandal. Be careful out there. Bye.
[We hang up, and luckily, with my main gay by my side, I am able to resume my normal activities.]

Okay, let the record show that this dude is 33 years old—or, I should say, 33 years YOUNG. How are you 33, calling up a fine-ass blacktress such as myself, with no recollection? Shouldn’t you know how to hold your liquor by the age of 33?! And repeatedly saying he was drunk just made me feel like I was some gross mistake he made, like filling in the wrong bubble on a standardized test, or accidentally drinking baby’s blood.

I am seriously done with the male gender. This is what that random college student was talking about in that paper I graded a month back.
What has become of the world when a man can call you up and just TELL YOU he forgot about making out, and then, when hearing the news, instead of rejoicing, he openly expresses his horror and distaste?!!

WHAT IS MY LIFE???

Reason #249 I need to blow this popstand.

The Hotness: A Review

Last night I had the pleasure of being the plus-one of none other than JJSiii at the screening of the upcoming film The Wackness. We didn’t really know what we were in for, and I attended for three reasons: it was free; Mary Kate Olsen was in it; as was Method Man.

I figured disappointment was highly unlikely—and I wasn’t wrong.

The Wackness centers on Luke Schapiro, a young Jewish prep-school gangster lazing about the city over the summer before he’s set to go to college. To pass the time, he sells weed out of an ice truck, and hangs out with Ben Kingsley (yeah, that Ben Kingsley—Ghandi, Sexy Beast, etc.), who plays a therapist who's a hot mess himself.

How hot of a mess? Well, he buys weed from Luke and makes out with M-K O.

Don’t worry, that’s not even the best of it.

The film’s true hotness comes in the form of witty one-liners and the great soundtrack, which harkens back to our youth (I mean, what’s better than watching a teen boy swipe his v-card to R. Kelly’s “Bump ‘n’ Grind”?!). Set in the summer of 1994, the film is a period piece of the finest degree, showing us the early years, when having the channel 1 was a big deal, when Notorious BIG was just coming up (and, you know, not dead), and Giuliani was getting rid of whorehouses and cracking down on crime.

Unless you were a white boy from the Upper East Side selling weed.

Before the screening of the film we were given a detailed information packet, which included a “glossary of slang terms” that appeared in the film. Some words included:

Breasteses: the plural of breasts.
Bounce: to leave a place. Eg. This party is wack, let’s bounce.
Weed: marijuana.

I kid you not.

I didn’t think these words were so foreign, especially when coming out of the mouth of an actor who played basically every guy I went to high school with. Apparently, I’m a bit more urban than their target audience.

But I’m certainly not more urban than Luke Schapiro, who takes his love of 90s hip hop to the nth power, making mix tapes for the therapist and his stepdaughter, Stephanie (played by Olivia Thirlby, the bff in Juno), who he is has a fat crush on.
No, “fat crush” would be an understatement. I believe his exact words are:
I got mad love for you, shorty. You make me, like, want to listen to Boyz II Men.
Best. Line. Ever.
I think I now know what I want my future husband to say to me on our wedding night.

The film works best as a story of child-men, with Ben Kingsley smoking weed, suggesting that the cure for Luke’s malaise is just getting laid (or, as he puts it, “the pussyquest”), and getting them locked up in the clink for a hot minute (where he asks a scrawny old black man what he’s in for and the man answers matter-of-factly: “I stabbed my wife in the pussy.” I know why this film won so much buzz at Sundance). Ben Kingsley is the hotness in this film, and the relationship between him and Luke is unexpected and only something an indie film would create, but it’s actually believable and enjoyable to watch. As JJSiii put it, “it didn’t give me an indie boner or anything, but I liked it.”

Truth.

Luke is a sad case, and is well-played by some dude who is usually on Nickelodeon (Josh Peck--have you heard of him? Fresh face to watch). He has no friends and just wants to love Stephanie, who cannot handle his tenderness. Stephanie’s rejection of Luke’s affection was particularly eye-opening for a blacktress. He was ready to start of college in a long-distance relationship, give her the love he had no one else to give it to, and she played him like a game of Chinese checkers!!! It’s girls like Stephanie that made it impossible for me to find a man willing to commit at any point from 2003-present. Awkward, tender guys gave their heart away to skinny boring girls who just got bored, and then they vowed never to love again.

I bet in the sequel to The Wackness we see Luke in college, sleeping with any and everything with a vajayjay, as one lonely girl just tries to make him an honest man, but he won’t let her cause he’s “going through a lot right now” which is code for “I don’t like you, and I am incapable of love because I’m so self-involved.”

Sorry, I digress.

Other highlights from the film include:
- Method Man as Percy, Luke’s weed supplier, who for some reason has a Jamaican accent.
- Ben Kingsley's final words to Luke at the end of the film: "Good luck in school. Try and sleep with a black girl--I never got to do that in college." How many times did I say at Diversity U, "black is like bi--you try it once in college"?!
Many times.
And Ben Kingsley simply confirms it.
- The line that gives the film its title:
While on the beach on Fire Island, Luke is confused and scared, wondering if Stephanie really like-likes him. She tells him to relax, and not think about the end of the summer, saying, “see, that’s your problem Schapiro, the way you look at things. Me, I just see the dopeness. But you, you just see the wackness.”
I will now be referring to all negative things as “the wackness” and all cool things as “the dopeness.”
Except for this film. It is most definitely THE HOTNESS.

The Hook Brings You Back/HeavyVee

I’m sorry for this late posting on the 7th day of BHM. Perhaps moving on CP time* is fitting, given the month.

Today, I would like to bring an up and coming rap sensation to your attention. It was brought to me by JJSiii. I find urban rhythms are often brought to my attention by those of the Caucasian persuasion, and I’ve come to accept it. When I first viewed this video, I was put off. Why would I write about a young woman who was cooning it up during the month of pride? However, upon a closer look and a good listen, I began to see her worth. See the magic for yourself.

She goes by the name of HeavyVee. I think this clever moniker comes from the fact that she is thick and her name is Vanessa. Her song “I don’t need a hook” is a clever meta discourse on the tropes of hip hop culture and rap music. She repeats the refrain—the hook, if you will—repeatedly, which is: I don’t need a hook.

Does she or doesn’t she? I’m not really sure.

But, what I do know is that HeavyVee is large and, like Charles, she is in charge!!! She’s not afraid to rock white suspenders, and she gestures with the bravado and confidence of a rapper twice her age (she’s only 17).

I would also like to show you an excerpt from the “about me” section of her woozyfly page:

When Vanessa turned 15, she gained the confidence to share her own songs with others and booked her first ever live performance at a local steak house in Jersey. From these humble beginnings, Heavy Vee was born!

Steak house? Did she get a shank or slab of meat as payment? Perhaps this is what I’ve been missing.Should I go to Bennigan’s and start spreading truth? Can I become internet famous after a string of performances at Ihop? I think I’m going to have to talk to HeavyVee’s people.

What I want you to learn from HeavyVee on the seventh day is this:

DO YOU.

HeavyVee proudly shuns “hooks” in favor of a….hook-shunning hook. She is a walking contradiction, and there’s just no stopping her. She’s a juggernaut of hip hop flavor, 17 years young, and she has a confidence that only a large black woman can possess. Having grown up around melanin-deficient individuals, I have been brainwashed with ideals of beauty. Luckily, I had my Detroit crew and strong black Massa-mama to give me truth. My classmates longed to be skinny, and proudly wore size 0 jeans on their petite frames. At the age of 17, some girls had the hips of a 12-year-old Korean gymnast—and guys actually thought they were hot.
But HeavyVee don’t go for that. As she says in the song, "She ain’t not snitch or trick. And if you cross her, she can be a real bitch"—just like Sojo.

While I’m slightly put off by the hairdo (or, in this case, hair-don’t), I think that HeavyVee deserves a day in the blacktress sunshine. What do YOU think?



*this is an abbreviation of the popular phrase, “colored people time,” which is based on the stereotype of black people being late all the time. I guess it’s cause they’re too busy eating fried chicken and getting pregnant.

Teeth-The Movie: aka VAG-ILANTE JUSTICE

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2008: The Year of Boo-ification

My procrastination has continued into the afternoon. Here is an excerpt from a conversation I had with my gay husband. I think one read will show you why I think everything is better with gay men.

Me: i'm hornier than a boy scout at camp after lights-out
like, wtf
JJSiii: HA
Me: that's my new line
i think i should copyright it
JJSiii: It seems to be a common problem these days
the terrorists done dropped a horny bomb on the US
Me: HAHAHAHAH.
JJSiii: it'd make sense
I mean, every gay man I know keeps talking about how they get boners all over the place
And they are not alone.

….. There was an hour of time when I psychoanalyzed text messages from the photographer and had to be talked down—it’s not particularly interesting.

Me: my luck with men in the past year (i mean, you know) has been rough.
JJSiii: it's 2008
I decided that this is the year of boo-ification
I was convinced it was going to be with one dude
and out of nowhere, there was a boo in my face
This is THE YEAR OF BOOIFICATION.
Remember that.

I will, JJ. I will NEVER FORGET.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just being pessimistic and things are going well with the Photographer. He did seem to like the fresh-baked apple pie I brought out on Saturday night.
And the sex I gave him.