The Chosen People Have Chosen Me!!!

So, I don’t know how many of you received my March newsletter (email madblacktress[at]gmail.com if you wanna opt in!), but I mentioned a gig that was unlike any I’ve ever had. Of course, being nervous and stressed about it, I was trying to block it out and not speak of it—you know, like how I handle sweating in public. Saturday, March 17, I was scheduled to perform at a Jewish Community Center in York, Pennsylvania, just an hour away from where Jewboo’s parents live!

One of these things is not like the other.....

Clearly, someone had dropped out at the last minute—but I’m not quite sure why I was the natural sub. Never one to turn down a gig, I said yes and figured I’d work it out later. It was kinda exciting—although I was getting paid to do “20 minutes, clean material, but can be edgy,” and my lover’s parents would be in attendance!!! As you can imagine, I was freaking out. I mean, what does ‘edgy’ even mean? Can I just get a list of forbidden words? You know, like:

YOU CANNOT SAY

• F word
• S word
• C word
• Vagina / Vajay-jay
• P in V without a C
• “I can’t passover those matzohballs.”
• Niggerbollen
• Honky Lumps

YOU CAN SAY

• The other C word (cancer)
• The other C word (Caucasia)
• "Save the drama for Obama"
• Bitch, when used as a pronoun
• Wintercourse, when used as a biological term

I was equally stressed out being in a JCC. We all know that I’m down with the chosen but I’m learning that non-New York Jews are a different crowd. And, like the New Hampshire country club I attempted to entertain back in October, these folks were going to be out of my target demographic in terms of age and lifestyle choices. Would they know what Roots or a Tyler Perry production was? Would they be offended by the use of the term ‘Jewboo? I just wasn’t sure how I’d play it.

After consulting some of the top comedic Jewish minds I know, I reached the Zen place of not actually dealing with it. As Jewboo and I headed to PA, I started to get stressed. This was quickly eclipsed by a near-death experience.

So, turns out that I have allergy-induced asthma...which I discovered on Saturday, the morning before my JCC debut. #fml

Remember the magical impression I made on my first visit to Jewboo's family/a suburban PA emergency room?

Well, turns out it wasn't the lady meds--it's cat dander plus wall-to-wall carpeting.

After a night spent wheezing, we finally decided to suck it up and go to the urgent care center. Of course, being Pennsylvania and not NYC, I was in and out in just over an hour, complete with prescriptions to pick up!
Of course, fear of death trumps fear of death by stage, but once I passed that hurdle, I was back to freaking out, and waiting around the venue for over 90 minutes didn't help--until I went to the bathroom, that is.
After closing the stall door, my own face looked back at me!!!

Seeing one's own face in the most unexpected places (i.e. not a mirror) was mind-blowing!

I felt like Rihanna.

Clearly, they were ready for me, as they'd had to see my face numerous times over the last two weeks. I went up second, which gave me time to read the temperature of the room. They were quite fun, actually, and opener Gilad Foss killed them with his Israeli sense of Jewmor. I followed, and just sorta went in with my same old stuff. And turns out, they liked me--they really, really liked me!

After my set, everyone wanted to meet Jewboo (who had to repeatedly say his real name in an attempt to assert his identity), and the head of the JCC even cornered me in a wine-induced stupor and asked if I planned to convert to Judaism.
"Um, let's go over to the cake," I replied.
BYOB at a JCC = TMI!

The night was fun and it felt good to share that side of myself with the boo's parents. I was, however, wrecked from the previous night and ready to get to bed when we got home at 2am. (Keeping the parents out til all hours!) Unfortunately, steroids and the inhaler kept me hyped up like Jessie Spano before the big dance contest. I spent much of Sunday lying on the couch and returned to NYC with a mountain of laundry and much to do--you know, like prepare for an audition for 30 Rock on Monday.

Yep, that happened! I got an email Friday afternoon while en route to the PA JCC (perhaps I was already creating Chosen People karma before the gig began???). After the insanity of "Schmobbie Jones" (remember her?) I had to do a bunch of sleuthing to make sure I wasn't being lured into a dark alley. After all, how did they even know me? Where'd they get my contact info? How did they know I'd be right for the part?

Well, turns out those casting folks are good! Based on a set they saw me do at a club back in September, they called me in for a strong black woman whose one line is, "I handle conflict appropriately and I'm up-to-date on my mortgage payments!" YES!!! THAT IS SO ME!!!!

I was pretty psyched and was totally hepped up Sunday night--and still trying to get that whole "breathing" thing under control. A trip to the bathroom at 3:30am turned nearly deadly as I walked directly into the doorframe, clocking myself in the head. Any attempt at sleeping was abandoned, as I worked to ensure that I wouldn't end up with a giant lump on my head for 30 Rock.

I went into the audition in my Banana Republic dress and was about 10 years younger than the other women, which was a bit awk. I felt like I'd walked into a scene from Waiting to Exhale, especially because they all seemed to know each other. For reals, they were showing pictures of their babies, talking about their New Jersey homes that were minutes from one another, and generally being BFF. Clearly, there's an elite group of upwardly mobile blacktresses that function similarly to the Freemasons that I need to be a part of.

I must find my way in.

How are you?

Family Matters

Happy Friday, y'all!

So, I'm taking this summer Friday and heading off to PA, to visit Jewboo's parents. I could barely sleep last night, which is nothing new given my anxiety levels. But I realized, as I jumped up and got everything done this morning, that maybe I wasn't anxious as much as excited. I love visiting the 'rents; middle-aged Jews hold a special place in my heart (probably all those years of private school), and Jewboo's parents think I'm the next best thing since sliced challah. Nothing makes me feel like a vital contributor to the human race quite like Papa Jewboo telling me I'm a "catch."
It's also really nice to get out of the city and get the scent of homeless-man urine out of my nostrils.

Today is almost a year to the day that I first met the parents. As some of you may recall, that was certainly a trial by fire, as I ended up in the ER within 12 hours of arriving. (Learn from my mistake, ladies: Always use the vaginal suppository.) Although I was mortified for days, the upside of that hot mess was that the standards for a "good visit" are pretty low--as long as I don't end up hospitalized or lose the ability to breathe, we'll all have a gay ol' time!

Have I mentioned that Jewboo's mom makes me nervous? She's not mean or anything, she's just kinda quiet and doesn't really have patience for bullshit. Yes, okay, she's a strong black woman in a white candy coating, and for that I love her--but I also feel this need to "crack" her. With robotic, straight-faced, non-emotive folks, there's always a part of me that wants to be the one to make them laugh. I want to get a serious guffaw. I want to get a thigh slap and a gasp for air outta this woman! But of course, as with any relationship, too much wanting makes for creepiness and awkwardness.

I'm trying to play it cool and just chillax. I'll let you know how it goes, though. Wish me luck!

xoxo,
blacktress!!

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)
   

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!

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!

Guess Who's Coming to Seder?

Hey gang. Sorry I’ve been off the grid. I’ve been kind of down in the dumps. I won’t go into it, because it’s best to erase, replace, embrace THIS SPACE (hmm…what do we think of that? I’m not sure, but I’ll leave it out there).

I haven’t slept more than 5 hours a night for the last week, but I’ve gotten myself into quite the tizzy. Tomorrow afternoon, I head to Reading, Pennsylvania with the Jewboo to meet his parents!!!


I feel like Dr. John Wade Prentice must have felt—only, you know, without the confidence that comes with being a doctor.

(How did you do it, Sidney???? Was it your crisp suit, your fancy degree, and your voice, that could lend gravitas to a grocery list?)

The blacktress will go deep inside Caucasia, hoping to make a good impression.

Only, um, I’m not sure how to do that. What do middle-aged white people like to talk about? What outfits say, “your son and I have never had pre-marital sex”? I was just running around midtown, looking for a fancy box of chocolates, and they have to nerve to charge $41 dollars for a 4” x 4” box containing 8 pieces!! What do I look like to these Rockerfeller Center fools?!

What’s a good gift that will look nice (not some, tiny, overpriced box) but not cause clutter? He said his parents “have enough trinkets and crap” (and I’m now imagining a house full of unicorn figurines), “so they don’t need anything.” Then again, this is coming from a man who’s never really taken me on a formal date, so I don’t know if I trust his judgment. Obvi, momma didn’t raise no fool, so I know I can’t show up to spend two nights at a stranger’s home and have no gift!! Besides, I need them to love me and think I’m awesome so that Jewboo decides to marry me.

Okay, okay, it’s only been 4 months, I know. I partially jest. But, like, why is he bringing me home already if he’s not for serious about a blacktress? Add to this the fact that he dropped the L-bomb first, and I feel like this could be a really important step. But he’s being sooo friggin cavalier about this, acting like it’s not a big deal for me to cross state lines and show up on mama’s doorstep, spending the holiday weekend trying to prove my worth. Clearly, I’ll be celebrating Codependence Day.

See, the trick to getting someone to marry you is to become so embedded in their life that it’s simply more convenient to have you around. You know, like the song goes—it’s cheaper to keep her. I’ve already provided food and orgasms for three months, so now it’s about winning over mom, dad, and sis, so that every time he calls them up, Mama goes, “How’s blacktress? She’s a great girl, son, don’t fuck it up!” I want us to get so close during our 48-hour visit that after I get back home, mom starts me links to articles she thinks I’ll find interesting, and asks if she can speak to me when her son calls.

Is this too much to ask for?

I’m thinking of showing up in crisp bridal whites—you know, something that says, “pure, virginal, and makes a great in-law.”

I am Sidney Poitier.
(as always, Photoshopping courtesy of JJSiii)

Seriously, guys, I alternate between excitement (getting out of New York! Getting to see pics of Jewboo when he was little! Thinking he may actually be so into me that he wants me to meet his parents!!) and nausea (What if they think I’m boring, and not as pretty as his previous girlfriends? What if they aren’t as down with the brown as they think they are? What if I wet the bed?!). I’m thinking of getting an assortment of Crumbs cupcakes in a fancy box. Nothing says, “love me” quite like mini cupcakes.

16 and Pregnant - Season 2, Episode 3

9:56 - I would like you to know how much I'm multi-tasking right now. I am blogging, flat-ironing (and then wrapping) my hair, and eating a brownie.
Although I'd like to be able to do one thing at a time, I must say I am grateful to be able to do all these things at once, as this ability is due to the fact that I am not pregnant or 16, or in an abusive relationship with a 17-year-old psychopath (for more on that, check out last week's live blog.)

10:00 - Valerie! She's 15 and lives in Farm Country, near Oxford, Pennsylvania. She's brown, but she was adopted by white parents (middle-america's very own Brangelina)...and has 8 brothers and sisters.

White boyfriend, we cut to him beatboxing, and then saying, "I'm gonna be chillin' shirtless for the next few hours."
Clearly he's urban.

32 Weeks Pregnant - She wants to give Matt space.
Valerie, chillin' with her friend Sienna on the dirt road. Look, there are other black people in farm country!
"I can't visualize being with anyone else."
Um, Valerie, you're a tween. You think Taylor Swift settled with Taylor Lautner just cause they had the same first name?! If Swift can take it slow, so can you.

"But you're only 15. How could you know for the rest of your life that you'll never be with another person?" - I love how each girl has a smart common-sense friend.

10:02 - They didn't really use condoms. "Cause I was dumb...he was more experienced than I was, so I thought if it was an issue, he'd bring it up."
Well, I guess she beat me to it, so there's nothing to say there.

10:04 - They're expecting a girl, and naming her Neveah-- "cause it's 'heaven' backwards."
Um, did Ekatsim (what's that backwards, guys!) not have a nice ring to it?

10:05 - "We're pro choice -- Pro-life [he corrects himself after Valerie interrupts him]. So, she had no choice the way I saw it." - Her father is, like, 100 years old. And the fact that he confused pro-life and pro-choice implies to me that he shouldn't even be making the calls.

10:06 - Matt and his homeboy are sitting in his car beatboxing - you know, the way the urban youth are known to do. Then, you know, just take a break from the beat to discuss why he broke up with Valerie. I love that he wants to get a paternity test. Or, as his friend Eddie calls it, "the FRATERNITY TEST."
Good lord.

10:07 - Valerie calls up Matt. "We don't have any reason to be talking unless it's about the baby." Damn, he left her out cold....but then tells her he still loves her.

"We had sex alot and it was unprotected. You know it was your baby." - Valerie
"I'm not gonna deal with this petty shit."- Matt's response before hanging up.
Really? If unplanned pregnancy is petty, what does get Matt's panties in a bunch?
Probably rap battles going down on his turf without his beatbox skills.

10: 12 - Valerie's home-schooled because she failed a bunch of classes last year.
"I guess I miss getting up and actually going to school." Well, yes, Val - that's what it means to go to school at home. I love how her friend Ashley is kinda ridiculous.
Valerie is so pouty. Like, not a whiner, but a wanna-be sexy pout.

10:13 - She called Matt to give him an ultimatum, then went into labor that night.
But now she's fighting with her mother about the contractions, and then trying to call Matt.
This labor seems oddly relaxed.

10:14 - in the hospital - thank god
"After the nurse got me hooked up, we waited...and waited...and waited."
Um, what exactly were you hooked up with? I don't consider there to be any sort of hook up involved in pregnancy.

10:15 - FALSE ALARM -- the doctor sent her home!
Matt left her a vm "I just called to see if you were in labor and all that....if the baby ain't born, don't bother calling back."
Where are these 15 year olds finding these emotional abusers? I think Dr. Drew needs to do a special on relationship violence.

10:17 - Valerie brings her homegirl to the doctor's office with her. Why is Ashley in the office, just chillin?
"Is it going to go back to normal after I have the baby?"
I don't know if she means her physique or her vag--all I know is, you've got bigger fish to fry.

10:18 - Matt calls, saying he's ready to step up. So he goes over to Valerie's and lays out his plan:
"I thought for hours...I laid in bed and listened to music for three hours straight, and just thought...about what's best for the baby, and for me, cause it's my life."
Um, everything about the sentence above is why 17-year-old boys shouldn't be allowed to have sex.
Matt's decided to move to Wilmington, Delaware, so he can get a job and get his life together to help support his baby.
Okay, you know they must be in the back woods if Delaware is the promised land.

10:23 - August, 36 Weeks Pregnant.
Home schooling is soooo boring. Well, this is what happens when you skip class and get knocked up.
- 39 weeks pregnant - BABY SHOWER!
Sienna came over to talk. I like Sienna much more than Ashley - and no, not just cause she's black. It seems like she has some sense.
- "He [the doctor] told me to push like I was having a bowel movement, and I thought that was, like, a special move or something." I love that Valerie has no idea what a bowel movement is, and is about to be in charge of another human life.

10:31 - 40 weeks
"What's going on with you and Matt?" - Her younger brother asked her. He's brown, too, as is her older brother. What's with Val's parents adopting the brown?
She's ready for labor. Matt showed up!!
Why isn't he beatboxing?
"My dad can keep a pretty cool exterior, but he must be excited if he forgot his teeth."
I TOLD Y'ALL HE WAS 100!

10:33 - Baby's being born! There's brown stuff in the amniotic sac, which makes the doc think the baby may have breathed in her own fecal matter in the womb -- DANGER, DANGER!!

God, it's so hard to blog and stay focused, this is so intense.

9 Hours into labor. Matt's all up in the crotch, trying to give support. Okay, I hate him less than Josh.
10:35 - Watching her push. Oh god, the pain is beyond intense.
Whew, the baby popped out!

Josh is wiping her tears!!! Teens can be tender!

10:36 - The baby's airlifted to a larger hospital because her condition seems to have gotten worse.
AAAHHH, this is too intense.

10:39 - She was airlifted to a hospital in Philadelphia and given antibiotics...and now she's safe!!
This baby's a trooper!

Matt headed back to Delaware, and now Valerie's figuring out how to handle biznass on her own.

10:41 - Valerie calls her soul sister Sienna, who lives 200 miles away. They're totally having a "Waiting to Exhale" moment--you know, like, a 15-year-old version.

10:43 - Valerie's calling around for daycare to see if she can go back to school. She doesn't have daycare money. Shit, I don't have daycare money, and I'm an employed adult!

10:47 - Baby's 6 weeks old, and now mom is back in home school.
Everything about that sentence makes me sad.
Valerie and her homegirl Ashley are shopping for baby things - why are all their scenes set in Target?
Ashley's giving her the hot high school gossip.

- Valerie's in home school. Barb's trying to teach her about like terms and the baby's crying - how can she concentrate?! I love how old Barb is - I bet she and the dad both have autographed copies of the Bible.

10:49 - Matt comes over and is actually sweet with the baby. I wish he'd get rid of that god-awful facial hair, though.
"Her head is 15 1/2 inches in.... diameter?..." Oh, Valerie - I need you paying attention during math class in home school, boo boo.

Mom lets Matt sleep over, even though she's "not thrilled about it." Well, shit, she's already gotten knocked up, Mom - what's the worst that could happen?

10:51 - Matt's beatboxing to the baby!!!
I'm sorry, this is the greatest moment in the history of "16 and Pregnant."
BEATBOXING TO THE BABY.
I think I need an urban daddy to sing my baby ghetto lullabies.

10:55 - I love how Matt keeps asking about the baby being gassy, and even went to wash his hands before holding the baby-- and he hasn't once mentioned the fraternity test!
Something's happening to him!

They're giving her a bath together, so sweet!
This baby doesn't have a touch of color and she's got a brown mama - but she'll color up. Believe it or not, young Sojo was slightly light skinned-ded growing up.

10:57 - Valerie's final thoughts:
You gotta do, what you gotta do.

Well, not the most inspired thoughts, but I hear ya, Val - you're making due.

Next week's ep: Chelsea.
Another shitty piercing and another abusive teen boyfriend.

Are we bored of these posts yet, gentle readers?