Guys, I come to you now with my tail between my legs and my head hung in shame. I haven’t blogged in so long, you’d think I wasn’t an insecure narcissist whose primary form of procrastination was writing ramblings on the internet.
Since I last posted, there have been many changes afoot—I don’t even know where to begin!
1. On Friday, October 29th at 6:34pm, Jewboo called to tell me he GOT A JOB!!!
Yes, y’all!!! He’s got a sweet temp-to-perm gig at Columbia University! For those of you who don’t know, Columbia’s located in Harlem, which means that not only has Jewboo solved the “I’m broke-ass” problem, he’s also helped alleviate the “I love on the G train” issue! Other pluses to this new employment:
- Jewboo’s entire staff consists of strong black women and a black man named Junior. Our 8 months of dating have trained him perfectly for dealing with a strong black woman—and, should his superiors be prone to outbursts and mood swings, he will be able to respond by asking them if they are in “food distress.”
- When the gig goes permanent, Jewboo will be making 25% MORE THAN ME. Seriously. As an administrative assistant. It really makes me wish I hadn’t gone into debt going to a liberal arts university when managing an Outlook calendar is where the money is.
- With this newfound money, Jewboo can begin purchasing me foodstuffs of the baked variety. I’m ‘bout to get myself mad cupcakes, y’all!
- My mother can stop telling me that I need to “use this one as a back-up; don’t get attached.”
2. So, for Halloween, I decided to go as “slutty Condoleeza Rice,” complete with cheap corset purchased from H&M and a headband with a top hat. I was definitely a tramp, but luckily, my party of choice was a bunch of gays in a high school gymnasium in Chelsea. It was kind of amazing. The drag queens brought out their A game, and they actually taught me how to—
UGH, God, my fucking coworker keeps interrupting me, and I can’t get a blog in edgewise! He’s being such a fucking shunt*, and I having been wanting to cut him for days. My hatred has gotten so intense that Saturday night I dreamt we got into a fist fight. I wish he’d just never talk to me again—or only communicate with me via email. He’s just so damn….detail-oriented and “wanting to get your thoughts on” things that it just bothers the shit out of me. I swear to fucking god, I can’t handle being here.
*that’s Australian for “shitty cunt”
Okay, rant complete. Where was I?
Oh, right, HallowQUEEN. (How did I just start calling it this now???)
So, I’m dancing to remixed versions of every pop song I’ve ever known (when you speed up “Umbrella,” Rihanna sounds even more like a chipmunk than usual), in my trampy outfit, hanging out with two members of my BLONDtourage (white girls are excellent safety nets on nights when the crazies are out), when a guy crosses behind us to put is coat in a corner.
I freeze. My stomach twists in a figure-eight knot.
No, it isn’t one of the many former lovers I’ve had.
It was MY BOSS!!!
Yes, y’all! My boss was at the HallowQueen party, and decided to plant 4 centimenters from a blacktress! I immediately alerted the blondes and made sure to text my nearest and dearest. Jewboo’s response: “Isn’t yer boss a drag queen?” as though I shouldn’t have been at all surprised. One of the gals I was with was convinced he must have seen me, since he’d crossed several times to drop off his coat, go back to pull out his wallet and phone, and then go back to put something else in his pocket.
“Do you think he’d recognize me in this outfit?!”
I tried to continue dancing non-chalantly, but the night lost its luster. I wasn’t ready to be caught out dressed like a tramp by the man who signs my checks. I walked over to my bag to put my cell away when he turned towards me. I used my collapsible fan as a face shield (just like Condi would do), but it was a wrap.
Michael just looked at me, rolled his eyes and laughed, and said, “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
I swear, I’m only having former drag queens as bosses from now on.
Okay, there’s much more to report, but I gotta get back to work before the shunt comes over with another request. I’m glad I broke the block, y’all—how you been?
Showing posts with label drag queens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drag queens. Show all posts
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Black History Month is Gonna be FIERCE
Last night’s premiere episode of “Drag Race” was so good, I almost had a heart attack from pure pleasure.
I don’t know if my words can do it justice. I will provide a brief rundown of the new characters, as well as things I learned from this episode.
The 12 Contestants (In Order of Appearance):
Nicole Paige Brooks, from Atlanta, GA. I'm not feeling her face for some reason.
Shangela "the debutantess from the deep south" - she's bourgie, but also your homegirl! Shangela’s only been in the drag game 5 months, but don’t hold that against her.
Raven She has double chin piercings. She doesn't carry a purse and has an arm tatt!
Jujubee,25, from Boston, MA. She’s a sassy Asian. “Jujubee’s really into accessories,” she says.
Sahara Davenport, 25, NYC – She and Shangela went to college together, have been friends forever!!
Morgan McMichaels - Morgan and Raven know each other. everyone’s besties!
Mystique Summers, from Texas – she’s a big gal. “Fuck these skinny bitches” she says from the get-go. FIERCE.
Jessica Wild, from San Juan, Puerto Rico. I love how Puerto Rico is involved for the 2nd year in a row.
Sonique, also from ATL, and is friends with Nicole Paige Brooks (it’s a small drag world after all!!!)
Tatianna - 21, from VA. She is sooooo pretty. Like, I just want to go to the mall with her and judge people in the food court. She says that she walked out of the house in drag at 14 years old. LOVE IT.
Pandora Boxx - looks kinda like Kathy Griffin....wait, he just said, "I’m a big chunk of Kathy Griffin" – DRAG QUEEN MIND MELD. Pandora’s a little too mannish for me, I must say, but she seems sweet and dedicated.
Tyra Sanchez, 21, from FL. I don’t like her teeth, but she looks so fierce. Best quote of the episode: "I had my Rihanna hair on... I was very much a lady."
The whole episode’s theme was “Gone With the Wind,” and the opening photo shoot was beyond exciting. Bronzed beefcake Mike Ruiz, photographer/judge from last season, was taking pics. His best line of the episode:
“Okay, here’s the context: It’s the height of the Civil War. I want you to straddle the cannon, work the fabric, and flirt with the guys.” – Mike’s notes to Jujubee, the first girl for the photo shoot.
Um, was there cannon straddling at the height of the Civil War? Did I miss that day in history class?
Other things I learned from last night’s episode:
“When I saw the fan, I was excited, because fans make everything prettier.”
– Tatianna, on the shoot.
So true, girl. So true.
Key West, Florida, is apparently a gay haven, judging by the commercial shown mid-way through the episode. That would explain why I enjoyed Spring Break 2K4 so much…..
"We’re not judging potential ...this is RuPaul's drag race, not RuPaul's school for girls.” – Ru on Shangela…..
I wish RuPaul's School for Girls was a real place...and that it took grown women.
The most important thing I learned last night came from Mystique, and it's this: when all else fails, DO A SPLIT. I don’t care if you’re 500 pounds, be prepared to break it down.
I don’t know if my words can do it justice. I will provide a brief rundown of the new characters, as well as things I learned from this episode.
The 12 Contestants (In Order of Appearance):
Nicole Paige Brooks, from Atlanta, GA. I'm not feeling her face for some reason.
Shangela "the debutantess from the deep south" - she's bourgie, but also your homegirl! Shangela’s only been in the drag game 5 months, but don’t hold that against her.
Raven She has double chin piercings. She doesn't carry a purse and has an arm tatt!
Jujubee,25, from Boston, MA. She’s a sassy Asian. “Jujubee’s really into accessories,” she says.
Sahara Davenport, 25, NYC – She and Shangela went to college together, have been friends forever!!
Morgan McMichaels - Morgan and Raven know each other. everyone’s besties!
Mystique Summers, from Texas – she’s a big gal. “Fuck these skinny bitches” she says from the get-go. FIERCE.
Jessica Wild, from San Juan, Puerto Rico. I love how Puerto Rico is involved for the 2nd year in a row.
Sonique, also from ATL, and is friends with Nicole Paige Brooks (it’s a small drag world after all!!!)
Tatianna - 21, from VA. She is sooooo pretty. Like, I just want to go to the mall with her and judge people in the food court. She says that she walked out of the house in drag at 14 years old. LOVE IT.
Pandora Boxx - looks kinda like Kathy Griffin....wait, he just said, "I’m a big chunk of Kathy Griffin" – DRAG QUEEN MIND MELD. Pandora’s a little too mannish for me, I must say, but she seems sweet and dedicated.
Tyra Sanchez, 21, from FL. I don’t like her teeth, but she looks so fierce. Best quote of the episode: "I had my Rihanna hair on... I was very much a lady."
The whole episode’s theme was “Gone With the Wind,” and the opening photo shoot was beyond exciting. Bronzed beefcake Mike Ruiz, photographer/judge from last season, was taking pics. His best line of the episode:
“Okay, here’s the context: It’s the height of the Civil War. I want you to straddle the cannon, work the fabric, and flirt with the guys.” – Mike’s notes to Jujubee, the first girl for the photo shoot.
Um, was there cannon straddling at the height of the Civil War? Did I miss that day in history class?
Other things I learned from last night’s episode:
“When I saw the fan, I was excited, because fans make everything prettier.”
– Tatianna, on the shoot.
So true, girl. So true.
Key West, Florida, is apparently a gay haven, judging by the commercial shown mid-way through the episode. That would explain why I enjoyed Spring Break 2K4 so much…..
"We’re not judging potential ...this is RuPaul's drag race, not RuPaul's school for girls.” – Ru on Shangela…..
I wish RuPaul's School for Girls was a real place...and that it took grown women.
The most important thing I learned last night came from Mystique, and it's this: when all else fails, DO A SPLIT. I don’t care if you’re 500 pounds, be prepared to break it down.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Black HERStory Month!
Happy Black History Month, guys!!!!
It’s a great time to be black, gang!! Last night started off strong, with a viewing of “BORN WITHOUT A FACE” (aaahhh!!! I couldn’t look away!), followed by a “Criminal Minds” mini-marathon (I’m just that cool). Although I slept rather fretfully, once I remembered what today was, I jumped out of bed with great glee.* I got to work and was pleased to begin my first week sitting at my new desk, which is NOT directly across from the bathroom. Holla at a blacktress movin’ on up!! I no longer have to hear my coworkers urinate as I pretend to do work.
We have a new girl in our office today, and she took my old desk. I already don’t like her—no, not just because she’s not black! It’s because she’s overly familiar and asks for a lot of things. Plus, she's wearing, like, leggings and grey cowboy boots and a tight green cardi - this is an OFFICE. It’s your FIRST DAY. And you make way more than I do, and I have to go Banana Republic biz-cas. Please have the decency to at least pretend to care, like the rest of us—at least in the beginning.
Anyway, I digress. I should be pleased that I now live in a world where Sojourner can be cold to a Caucasian newbie without fear of retribution. This is growth, people! Add to this the fact that tonight’s the season 2 premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and this month is gonna be off the chain! Y’all know how much I love a DQ, and Ru is the queen of them all. I was in Australia during the first season of this show, and upon returning, it was more important to see Drag Race than call up my 93-year-old grandmother. (Does that make me a bad person?)
I think my favorite part had to be the finale, when their challenge was to write a rap for Ru’s song. Bebe Zahara Benet’s rap involves her saying the word ‘face,’ like, 10 times.
And she won the challenge.
I love this show so hard.
Add to this the fact that RuPaul is BLACK, and I think the BHM tie-ins are beyond obvious.
Okay, guys, it’s damn near noon, and I haven’t done an ounce of work. Apparently my boss doesn’t “understand” that Black History Month is a national holiday and I can’t be “expected” to “actually do my work” at any point.
Um, can we talk about the fact that I’m at work wearing my headphones and listening to ‘Covergirl (Put the Bass in Your Walk)’?
(Check out minute 1:22 for the start of the ‘face’ goodness)
I think what I love most about this show is the fact that, at the end of the episode, the bottom 2 contestants stand side-by-side and are told to “Lip synch…. FOR YOUR LIFE.”
I hope to one day be able to say the very same to two dueling male suitors. Whichever one is more fierce will get to be with me forever.
*god I miss that show.
Sidebar: Those who are in NYC and want to see the blacktress LIVE can check out the following stand-up shows this month:
Thursday, February 11, 9pm
Comedy Party USA
@ The Grizzly Pear
107 Macdougal St.
(Trains to West 4th)
Friday, February 12, 9pm
The Back Room
Ochi's Lounge
downstairs in Comix, 14th btwn 8th and 9th Avenue
(A/C/E to 14th street)
Both shows are FREE!
It’s a great time to be black, gang!! Last night started off strong, with a viewing of “BORN WITHOUT A FACE” (aaahhh!!! I couldn’t look away!), followed by a “Criminal Minds” mini-marathon (I’m just that cool). Although I slept rather fretfully, once I remembered what today was, I jumped out of bed with great glee.* I got to work and was pleased to begin my first week sitting at my new desk, which is NOT directly across from the bathroom. Holla at a blacktress movin’ on up!! I no longer have to hear my coworkers urinate as I pretend to do work.
We have a new girl in our office today, and she took my old desk. I already don’t like her—no, not just because she’s not black! It’s because she’s overly familiar and asks for a lot of things. Plus, she's wearing, like, leggings and grey cowboy boots and a tight green cardi - this is an OFFICE. It’s your FIRST DAY. And you make way more than I do, and I have to go Banana Republic biz-cas. Please have the decency to at least pretend to care, like the rest of us—at least in the beginning.
Anyway, I digress. I should be pleased that I now live in a world where Sojourner can be cold to a Caucasian newbie without fear of retribution. This is growth, people! Add to this the fact that tonight’s the season 2 premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and this month is gonna be off the chain! Y’all know how much I love a DQ, and Ru is the queen of them all. I was in Australia during the first season of this show, and upon returning, it was more important to see Drag Race than call up my 93-year-old grandmother. (Does that make me a bad person?)
I think my favorite part had to be the finale, when their challenge was to write a rap for Ru’s song. Bebe Zahara Benet’s rap involves her saying the word ‘face,’ like, 10 times.
And she won the challenge.
I love this show so hard.
Add to this the fact that RuPaul is BLACK, and I think the BHM tie-ins are beyond obvious.
Okay, guys, it’s damn near noon, and I haven’t done an ounce of work. Apparently my boss doesn’t “understand” that Black History Month is a national holiday and I can’t be “expected” to “actually do my work” at any point.
Um, can we talk about the fact that I’m at work wearing my headphones and listening to ‘Covergirl (Put the Bass in Your Walk)’?
(Check out minute 1:22 for the start of the ‘face’ goodness)
I think what I love most about this show is the fact that, at the end of the episode, the bottom 2 contestants stand side-by-side and are told to “Lip synch…. FOR YOUR LIFE.”
I hope to one day be able to say the very same to two dueling male suitors. Whichever one is more fierce will get to be with me forever.
*god I miss that show.
Sidebar: Those who are in NYC and want to see the blacktress LIVE can check out the following stand-up shows this month:
Thursday, February 11, 9pm
Comedy Party USA
@ The Grizzly Pear
107 Macdougal St.
(Trains to West 4th)
Friday, February 12, 9pm
The Back Room
Ochi's Lounge
downstairs in Comix, 14th btwn 8th and 9th Avenue
(A/C/E to 14th street)
Both shows are FREE!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Therapy--Without Health Insurance!
Tonight I had a stand up gig as part of a benefit for Planned Parenthood--or, as the young hip, pro-choice kids call it, PPNYC. I was a bit nervous, as I was unsure how the PPNYC crowd would appreciate tales about Ps in Vs without Cs. I knew abortion jokes were out (obvi), but the target demographic was unclear. I got there at 6pm, where I was preceded by two elderly women--could they handle Sojourner's truths? I also knew there was a political bent to the show, but I'm not a political comic (my existence is resistance, people!). I went in with some energy, but as I waited for the show to start, my energy started to wane.
I got the gig through a lady I know who attended the same high school and college as me, but we didn't really know each other because she was two years older. My new plan for world domination requires I say yes to everything I'm asked to do, and this show was no exception. I figured, being a client of PPNYC's Bronx location (where I get free BC--aka, my 'reminder I'm not getting any' pill), I might as well give back.
Some things I learned tonight:
PPNYC, all in favor of a good abbreviation, does appreciate a cautionary tale of a P in a V without a C.
The greatest advocates for women's health are Caucasian lesbians.
Always end the night with a drag queen.
For serious.
After the show, I met up with some of my main gays in Hell's Kitchen, and we popped over to Therapy, a gay club/bar/restaurant that I've always heard of, but never visited. I wasn't feeling too great about my set, so I was rather excited to distract myself with loud music and pretty boys.
Turns out, Therapy lives up to its name, as I was able to turn my frown upside down instantly. Tonight was "Cattle Call," a sort of talent show where contestants (all singers) competed for a $150 cash prize. The host was none other than Peppermint, a fabulous Black drag queen who brought the house down.
So, you guys know how when I was little I wanted to be a drag queen, right? As a young aspiring blacktress, I'd stay up past my bed time in the fall of 1996 to catch a glimpse of The Rupaul Show on VH1. I was obsessed. While I wore braces, glasses, and over-sized sweatshirts with Mickey Mouse on them, Ru was so glamorous and confident and just...well, I didn't know what it call it at the time, but now I know the only word I can use is fierce! I just loved how tall she was, her hilarious puns, and her love of inappropriate touching.
(I can't tell you how long it took me to choose a picture of Ru that I loved. I think if I did, it would scare you.)
Come to think of it, these are the same things people seem to appreciate about me nowadays, so perhaps I'm on my way. Yay!
Anyway, Peppermint--who is gearing up for her European album launch--spoke to my heart when she performed Aretha Franklin's "Think" and followed it up with Lisa Loeb's "Stay." She spoke to my dual racial identity, bringing in the sassy soul and the wispy acoustic guitar with equal aplomb.
After the show was over, I ran into Peppermint on her way out of the bathroom. I believe my exact words were, "Ohmygod, I want to be you, you are amazing, can I be your roadie on your European tour?"
I heart her so hard it's not even funny.
She laughed and hugged me, and I told her I was a blacktress. I realized that I can learn alot from the DQs I love--and I don't just mean how to be fabulous. The good performers work the crowd, and their energy is relentless. They know how to Bring it On, Bring it on Again (the sequel), and Bring it on: All or Nothing (seriously, they never stop with these movies. It's Star Wars for tween girls).
I need to bring that A game to all my stand up from now on, and regardless of how the audience reacts, I'll know that I gave 140%. And maybe, if I'm lucky, a delicate young blacktress will approach me outside of the restroom and tell me she wants to be me.
Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream...
I got the gig through a lady I know who attended the same high school and college as me, but we didn't really know each other because she was two years older. My new plan for world domination requires I say yes to everything I'm asked to do, and this show was no exception. I figured, being a client of PPNYC's Bronx location (where I get free BC--aka, my 'reminder I'm not getting any' pill), I might as well give back.
Some things I learned tonight:
PPNYC, all in favor of a good abbreviation, does appreciate a cautionary tale of a P in a V without a C.
The greatest advocates for women's health are Caucasian lesbians.
Always end the night with a drag queen.
For serious.
After the show, I met up with some of my main gays in Hell's Kitchen, and we popped over to Therapy, a gay club/bar/restaurant that I've always heard of, but never visited. I wasn't feeling too great about my set, so I was rather excited to distract myself with loud music and pretty boys.
Turns out, Therapy lives up to its name, as I was able to turn my frown upside down instantly. Tonight was "Cattle Call," a sort of talent show where contestants (all singers) competed for a $150 cash prize. The host was none other than Peppermint, a fabulous Black drag queen who brought the house down.
So, you guys know how when I was little I wanted to be a drag queen, right? As a young aspiring blacktress, I'd stay up past my bed time in the fall of 1996 to catch a glimpse of The Rupaul Show on VH1. I was obsessed. While I wore braces, glasses, and over-sized sweatshirts with Mickey Mouse on them, Ru was so glamorous and confident and just...well, I didn't know what it call it at the time, but now I know the only word I can use is fierce! I just loved how tall she was, her hilarious puns, and her love of inappropriate touching.
(I can't tell you how long it took me to choose a picture of Ru that I loved. I think if I did, it would scare you.)Come to think of it, these are the same things people seem to appreciate about me nowadays, so perhaps I'm on my way. Yay!
Anyway, Peppermint--who is gearing up for her European album launch--spoke to my heart when she performed Aretha Franklin's "Think" and followed it up with Lisa Loeb's "Stay." She spoke to my dual racial identity, bringing in the sassy soul and the wispy acoustic guitar with equal aplomb.
After the show was over, I ran into Peppermint on her way out of the bathroom. I believe my exact words were, "Ohmygod, I want to be you, you are amazing, can I be your roadie on your European tour?"
I heart her so hard it's not even funny.She laughed and hugged me, and I told her I was a blacktress. I realized that I can learn alot from the DQs I love--and I don't just mean how to be fabulous. The good performers work the crowd, and their energy is relentless. They know how to Bring it On, Bring it on Again (the sequel), and Bring it on: All or Nothing (seriously, they never stop with these movies. It's Star Wars for tween girls).
I need to bring that A game to all my stand up from now on, and regardless of how the audience reacts, I'll know that I gave 140%. And maybe, if I'm lucky, a delicate young blacktress will approach me outside of the restroom and tell me she wants to be me.
Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream...
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Apparently You CAN Silence Sojo....
I'm pissed, y'all.
I went in to work today and during a total lull I went to put up a post about my shenanigans the previous night. Much to my dismay and horror, I saw that the IT bitches have BLOCKED ACCESS TO MY BLOG!
The blacktress has been blacklisted. Hell to the no!
This ship is no longer cruisey--not cruisey at all. Thank god this is only a two-week gig.
If I'd had access to my diary earlier today, I would have recorded the following:
1. I am currently drinking hot chocolate out of a green mug with a picture of a sheep on it that says "Thinking of Ew." I remember why I hate office life.
2. One of my main tasks is to input names into the ships' security systems, so deliveries can be made and people can hop off and on. On today's list was 'McCarthy, Andrew." Is the Pretty in Pink hottie working for cruise ships now?! I wondered as I plugged him into the database. I then spent a large portion of the morning wondering what Andrew McCarthy would do on a cruise ship. Does he perform scenes from the film on the Lido Deck after bocce tourneys?
3. Today at work, I got a call from drag queen Portia Turbo, who I worked for during Fair Day. The call went something like this:
"Sojourner, gorgeous, it's Portia Turbo, how are you?"
"Great, how are you?"
"Good. Look, sweetheart, we love you, and we want you to work as a Gaydar Girl at the Mardi Gras Harbour Party next Sunday. Can you do it?"
"Will Verushka Darling be there?"
"Of course, gorgeous!"
"I'm there!"
Guys, I have been requested to act as a Gaydar Girl for the Harbour Party. Am I on my way to becoming a gay icon? This is everything I've ever wanted! What if I become a famous blacktress, but I'm only famous in Australia--then I can come home to NYC when I want to 'get away from it all.' Can you imagine?!
See, these are the things I would have shared in real time if only the massa of the ship had let me. What really pisses me off is that someone sitting near me listens to the radio all day. And we're not talking smooth Mozart sounds. Before 11am I heard MGMT's 'Electric Feel' and 'Don't Stop the Music' by Ri-Ri. I may as well have been in the club with such distracting grooves! How is it okay to listen to fun pop hits that could distract other colleagues but not okay to check email and update blogs during ridiculously long stretches of boredom?! Shit, I wrote most of this on a series of post-its on my desk--they can't make me work. You don't own me!
Sidenote: The best part about the pop music is that it can only be coming from one of two people: Jessica, a young girl who has yet to say hello to me; or Paul, who is known as 'Boots' (as in "Puss in")--a middle-aged man who regularly leaves at 3pm and doesn't say much.
I think it's him.
On an up-note, me and the boss-lady actually chit-chatted today. Turns out my kewpie doll is only 22 years young and has never left her home country. She also revealed that she "doesn't know what she's doing," which makes a lot of sense, since she can't quite delegate. When I complete basic tasks quickly and efficiently, she tries to bolster my self esteem with such phrases as "You're doing a good job!" and "Well done for thinking ahead!"
Um, sweetie, I've been reading on my own since I was 4. Don't get it twisted.
She's nice, though, and as far as "bosses" go, she causes no stress. If only I could get some fucking internet access! Don't they know I'm a future gay icon?!
I went in to work today and during a total lull I went to put up a post about my shenanigans the previous night. Much to my dismay and horror, I saw that the IT bitches have BLOCKED ACCESS TO MY BLOG!
The blacktress has been blacklisted. Hell to the no!
This ship is no longer cruisey--not cruisey at all. Thank god this is only a two-week gig.
If I'd had access to my diary earlier today, I would have recorded the following:
1. I am currently drinking hot chocolate out of a green mug with a picture of a sheep on it that says "Thinking of Ew." I remember why I hate office life.
2. One of my main tasks is to input names into the ships' security systems, so deliveries can be made and people can hop off and on. On today's list was 'McCarthy, Andrew." Is the Pretty in Pink hottie working for cruise ships now?! I wondered as I plugged him into the database. I then spent a large portion of the morning wondering what Andrew McCarthy would do on a cruise ship. Does he perform scenes from the film on the Lido Deck after bocce tourneys?
Oh my god, I heart him.
3. Today at work, I got a call from drag queen Portia Turbo, who I worked for during Fair Day. The call went something like this:
"Sojourner, gorgeous, it's Portia Turbo, how are you?"
"Great, how are you?"
"Good. Look, sweetheart, we love you, and we want you to work as a Gaydar Girl at the Mardi Gras Harbour Party next Sunday. Can you do it?"
"Will Verushka Darling be there?"
"Of course, gorgeous!"
"I'm there!"
Guys, I have been requested to act as a Gaydar Girl for the Harbour Party. Am I on my way to becoming a gay icon? This is everything I've ever wanted! What if I become a famous blacktress, but I'm only famous in Australia--then I can come home to NYC when I want to 'get away from it all.' Can you imagine?!
See, these are the things I would have shared in real time if only the massa of the ship had let me. What really pisses me off is that someone sitting near me listens to the radio all day. And we're not talking smooth Mozart sounds. Before 11am I heard MGMT's 'Electric Feel' and 'Don't Stop the Music' by Ri-Ri. I may as well have been in the club with such distracting grooves! How is it okay to listen to fun pop hits that could distract other colleagues but not okay to check email and update blogs during ridiculously long stretches of boredom?! Shit, I wrote most of this on a series of post-its on my desk--they can't make me work. You don't own me!
Sidenote: The best part about the pop music is that it can only be coming from one of two people: Jessica, a young girl who has yet to say hello to me; or Paul, who is known as 'Boots' (as in "Puss in")--a middle-aged man who regularly leaves at 3pm and doesn't say much.
I think it's him.
On an up-note, me and the boss-lady actually chit-chatted today. Turns out my kewpie doll is only 22 years young and has never left her home country. She also revealed that she "doesn't know what she's doing," which makes a lot of sense, since she can't quite delegate. When I complete basic tasks quickly and efficiently, she tries to bolster my self esteem with such phrases as "You're doing a good job!" and "Well done for thinking ahead!"
Um, sweetie, I've been reading on my own since I was 4. Don't get it twisted.
She's nice, though, and as far as "bosses" go, she causes no stress. If only I could get some fucking internet access! Don't they know I'm a future gay icon?!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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