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Happy Friday, friends!

Living with Jewboo is going pretty well, considering I'm an only child who needs complete quiet in order to fall asleep and he's a neurotic workaholic. It's good having someone to share responsibilities with and look to for support. And have an extra computer to use. My laziness seems to know no bounds and when his computer is right there, all on the desk and easy to use, I don't want to lug my laptop to various areas of the house.

Unfortunately, this also means Jewboo has access to the myriad of useless things that occupy my mind on a daily basis. Below are a list of things I've recently looked into on the information super highway. As I write this list and share it with the blogsphere, I release the shame and embarrassment that comes with it. Thank you for bearing witness to my recovery.

Things I Have Recently Googled

• comedy festivals 2013, submissions open
• comedy managers
• how many calories burned by [insert a range of everyday actions here]
• best rueben sandwiches, nyc
• how to make corned beef (clearly, I was trying to empower myself)
• large pores in forehead cause excessive sweating?
• coupons Almond Breeze Almond Milk
• [My own name]

The Angelina Jolie of Cat Ladies

You know this is my safe space and the receptacle for all my deepest thoughts and memories--it's my pensieve, if you will. (Will you????) So I feel like I can tell you that yesterday afternoon I spent much of the day looking at photos of cats.

Yes, cat pics. 

Ever since I became a stepmom to Jewboo's cats, I've become such an animal lover! Nothing makes me feel better than a cat cuddle and I never want to leave the house. The obese cat and I have some issues (mostly cause he shit on the mattress last week and his food issues hit too close to home), but when he rolls over for a rub, looking like a little baked potato, my heart just melts a little bit.

What prompted this was my coworker telling me about the cat she's going to adopt. Apparently she's 5 years old, been in a foster home, and "struggles with her weight." AKA, she's obese like my stepson. I passed along some suggestions, but mostly questioned this cat's history. 

My coworker didn't like it when I asked, "is she the Precious of cats?"


She sent me a link to the cat's photo on petfinder.com, a website I hadn't even heard of (it's basically a match.com for pet lovers). Well, let me tell you, I'm officially hooked. I mean, look at these frackin' kittens:

COME THE FUCK ON!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MY DAMN JOB WHEN THESE CUTE-ASS BITCHES ARE EXISTING?????

And they even have a video of the momma cat and the babies playing:

Seeing all these cats in need of a home, I can sorta see how those ladies on A&E end up as cat hoarders. I mean, the ad says that the momma cat is just over a year old herself!!! That's basically the cat equivalent of 16 & Pregnant, and you know how much I want to help those girls. And these cats lookin' all cute and bi-racial--who knows what man cat knocked her up! Is there a cat version of Audre Lorde or Lucille Clifton that I can read to her to lift up her soul??? 
I'd totes change her name to Shiloh and and call the rest Maddox 1-3.


If you like cats and live in NYC, they're a great pet to have. Go and adopt one from this website or foster one until it can get a permanent home.
And then let me come over over day and play with them.


Oh, and FYI: Tonight at 11pm I'm performing at The People's Improv Theater (The PIT) on Skinny Bitch Jesus Meeting's monthly show. Come on down!

Hunger Pains Over The Hunger Games

Guys, it’s begun. Midnight last night, The Hunger Games premiered and my world was officially made whole. I am soooooo psyched, I don’t even know where to begin. I haven’t been this excited for a movie since Harry Potter IV! Jennifer Lawrence was the right choice for the lead. I mean, after Winter’s Bone— which was basically The Hunger Games set in meth country—we know that she can traverse a treacherous landscape for the good of her family.

And I only just found out that Stanley Tucci is in it!!!! Have I never mentioned my mild obsession with him? The man is perfect wherever he appears. I am so drawn to the Tucci, I want to touch his tushy!
Yes, I'm so excited that all these puns are swirling in my head:

Katniss is my catnip!

Shot through the heart / And you're to blame / You messed with Katniss / during The Hunger Games!!!!

This might be Lenny Kravitz' best move since making daughter Zoe.

My only hope is that the movie is 10 hours long and re-creates every single page of the book.

The End of Black Mystery Month

Guys, I've never been so excited for March in my life. This BHM was a real rollercoaster: We lost Don Cornelius and Whitney Houston; Viola lost, Octavia won; birth-control pills were recalled; and I'm finally getting the hang of Twitter.

To top it off, it seems that everyone's favorite Hot Mess Oompa Loompa, Snooki, is pregnant.

WHAT. THE. HELL IS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD?????

Shouldn't her ovaries be withered and her eggs pickled? Shouldn't her boyfriend's semen be 80 proof and unable to survive outside of his body? At the very least, shouldn't someone with her drinking history at the very least be getting Depo shots so as not to tax her memory? Of course, as I say this, I hear Jeff Goldblum's voice in my head, saying "Life finds a way."

Let's just hope that baby doesn't have fins. Or, better yet, that it doesn't get its own tv show--although it would probably make for a great season of Toddler & Tiaras.

This is one of those times I kinda wish The Hunger Games was real. If we had televised fights to the death, we'd be able to really separate the wheat from the discredits to the species, am I right guys????

Speaking of separating the wheat from the discredits, I must share this INSANE--albeit 5 years old and NSFWUYHH (Unless You Have Headphones)--youtube clip of local Atlanta public-access figure Alexyss K. Tylor--I kid you not, that is how her name is spelled.



I have no words.

Inglorious Roommates (not sure what to call this one)

Man, living with this German is a real test of endurance. Note to self: never rent out a room to a foreign PhD student--they're always in the house because they're too busy and too broke to do things.

I've been late to work every day this week because this gal's bogarting the bathroom like she has somewhere to be (which she doesn't, cause she just works in the house all day). The week before, I couldn't eat my breakfast in peace because she decided to make the kitchen her new workspace.

Look, y'all, I'm not a total curmudgeon (all the time), but first thing in the morning, I need my oats, my orange juice, and 30 minutes to steel myself for the day ahead. Before I head out to spend 8 hours doing something I don't enjoy, surrounded by people from the moment I step on the train until I get to sleep, I want half a damn hour sitting upright, catching local news, and not make upbeat small talk with someone I'm not close to. After all, I gotta save that for my coworkers.

I feel like Anne Frank in my own damn house! Every time I thought I heard the bathroom door open, I'd get up to head to the shower, only to find that she was inside the bathroom. Yesterday I had to straight-up knock--and passive-aggressively say, "I have to get ready for work" instead of, you know, "I have to take a shower"--because I couldn't wait any longer. Before knocking, I heard what sounded like some very heavy-duty exfoliating and labored breathing. I hated to interrupt, but if you're doing some sort of Ethan-Hawke-in-Gattaca* type of thing, I'm gonna need you to put the kibosh on that until after I leave the house.

In summation, I don't like living with her, I got to work 2 hours late, and I really like the movie Gattaca.

As you may have noticed, my posting is getting few and far between. It's not that I don't appreciate our relationship or love internet attention, but I'm working on writing a show and I find that I must redirect my humor-writing focus in order to make sure I actually generate material. Trying to create interesting and, hopefully, funny content for the diary, stand-up audiences, and a stage production is a lot to do at once, and I've figured out that the stage-show dreams always fall by the wayside because it's easier to write--and get instant gratification from--stuff for the blog and live audiences. So, in an attempt to get something more substantial going, you may see less of me--you know, like when a friend gets in a new relationship. (It's me and The Artist's Way, and we're head over heels for each other.) But I'll still be telling my truths, so don't give up! As I like to say, I'm goin' on hiatus but don't hate us!


*For those of you unfamiliar with the film with which I was obsessed for much of 1998, here's the clip I'm referring to (I even edited it myself!):

A De-gene-erate
Gattaca at MOVIECLIPS.com

My Soon-to-be New Favorite Show!

Part of pursuing my blackting dreams involves submitting my headshot and resume for various roles that are being cast. I'm registered with one site that sends me alerts based on my background/look. Unfortunately, it seems that they don't think very highly of me. I just got sent the following breakdown that was "Fit for ME!"

Project Type: Documentary Series

SEEKING: PEOPLE WHO ACT LIKE ANIMALS

Do you have a primal animal behavior?
New series looking for people who act as if they are animals. Do you have awkward pets* that you have relationships with (non sexual)? Do you live on a raw meat diet, on road kill or squirrels? Have you transformed your life to be more like an animal? Do you have an owner?

Some of the stories we've looked into:

FOOD
Tim's pets are his best friends. Throughout the years, he's grown to envy their simple lives, and as a way to develop a deeper connection with them, he's begun sharing their dinner on the floor. He feels that the line between master and pet is arbitrary,^ and that we can all learn a lot from our humble companions.

DOG HOUSE
Tim is an ex-addict who was kicked out of his parent's house as a teenager. For years, he lived in various backyard doghouses for shelter, moving to find a new one whenever the homeowners became suspicious. Now that he's gotten clean, his sister has allowed him to move in with her but he still insists on living in a doghouse in her backyard. He feels safe in the small space with the creatures that never rejected him.

INNER WOLF
Tina saw dead wolves on the side of the road growing up.* As it traumatized her, it has been the one animal that she feels most connected to. Ergo, Julie has adopted extreme wolf traits in her life such as leaving at dusk to scale the mountains of Moab to howl in the wind. Julie doesn't eat what others serve for dinner, she likes her raw steak sinking her teeth and devouring just as wolves do. Julie also sleeps in her wolf bed** outside the home.

LEECH LIFE
Tillie enjoys having pet leeches, but more importantly she loves the feeling she gets when she puts them on her skin, allowing them to feed. Sarah and her partner Michael take turns feeding the leeches two times every day. Loving her leeches, Sarah wouldn't want to have any other pet.

We are interested in trying to understand any unique animal or primal behavior!

What about this made them think of me? I don't even have the world "animal" listed on my resume. The whole, "do you have an owner?" question has so much racist innuendo, I may have to discuss with the website. Of course, my confusion was quickly eclipsed by the fact that this is a new show in production that I can't wait to watch on the regular. Guys, this is like Animal Hoarders + Fatal Attractions + Intervention + My Strange Addiction wrapped in a flour tortilla!!! Set your DVRs for EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

*I love the idea of an "awkward pet"--I picture a ferret that just stares at one corner of a room all day.

^Arbitrary?! You know this man is CauCRAYsian.

*Wait, like, were these regular occurrences, or was it just this one time at band camp?

**What is a "wolf bed"--if there's one thing that isn't animal-like, it's having furniture of any kind.

Strappin' in for the Weekend

Guys, there's a hurricane a-coming to New York City.
We had an earthquake about three days ago.
Um, WTF, End of Days? Can you please not come until I've had a chance to live my dreams?

I hope it's just a thunderstorm, and not the dramatic hurricane their expecting. I mean, her name is Irene, for goodness sake--nothing named Irene should be dangerous.

[Imagine me as a 55-year-old secretary when you read this next sentence.] Besides, the only hurricane I want is Denzel! [insert a pursing of the lips and a snap.]

As I prepare to tuck in for what's sure to be "THE STORM OF THE CENTURY," I realize how useless I am in an emergency. I mean, this is nothing new, but it became even more apparent after visiting the VT and then reading The Hunger Games this week. But now, in the face of a real situation of the non-Jersey variety, I realize I'm as useless as a taco in a toolkit.^

According to NY1 News, I need to pack a "go bag". All I know about "go bags" are that the FBI agents on Criminal Minds always have one ready before boarding the plane to the next serial-killer case.
I don't have a gun or badge, so what would my go bad contain besides underwear and a safety condom?

As I try to write a grocery list of edible foods I won't have to cook or refrigerate*, I hear the wise words of my 95-year-old G-Unit, said before what was certain to be the Y2K meltdown:

In times of distress, you must be able to wipe yo ass.

Let me give a bit of context:
Grandma has an entire linen closet filled with toilet paper--except on the floor of the closet, where she has jugs of water.
When I asked her why she had all this, she replied matter-of-factly with, "Thems my rations."

Okay.

Water, I get. But all that tp? Unless you're some sort of macGuyver, you really won't need that many thin squares of tissue during an apocalypse.

Unless you're G-Unit.

Maybe I should go load up on Charmin--I mean, the woman has lasted 95 years on this earth, so she must know something. (Plus, those cartoon bears are so cute!). What about Smart Water? I mean, if the world's going to turn into Thunderdome, I want whatever the ageless Jennifer Aniston's been drinking. That one's got the hips of a 14-year-old Korean gymnast!

Ugh, I wish I was Katniss Everdeen. I'm gonna try to make a shiv out of a plastic spoon in the next hour.

I need survival skills. Is there a way to do, like, a SIMS version of Outward Bound?

^I've decided to try on the character of elderly southern farmer. This is one of my new folksy sayings.

*so far, all I got is:

• Wheat Thins
• apples
• dry cereal
• English muffins
• tea (not a food)
• chips and salsa?
• fruit leather
• peanut butter
• craisins

You Smell Gross. We Can Make You Pretty.

That’s basically what every fashion, gossip, and celebrity magazine has been telling me for the last two months. Each issue contains no less than 6 pages on the new “must-have summer scents,” guaranteed to make you smell less like sweat and more like sweat and grapefruit. To save you the time and the agony, I’ve compiled a round up of the best new toilet waters.

As always, The Hairpin's loss is your gain. Happy Friday!

Guerlain Aqua Allegora Jasminora

This limited edition fragrance is the newest addition to the French perfume house’s Aqua Allegoria line. It’s floral and light, with a bit of musk and amber to make you feel like a classy walking pheromone. Allure magazine implores you to, “Close your eyes and take a whiff. Thanks to the bergamot and white musk that balance out a strong jasmine note, this heady scent makes you feel like you're in a garden by the ocean.”
You know, that garden by the ocean you always played in as a child in 18th-century Scotland.

Annick Goutal Paris Petite Cherie Limited Edition

The latest creation by Annick Goutal—“a woman with a remarkable destiny. … After many years studying music, she decided to embrace the opportunity to become a model, a path which aligned perfectly with her innate sense of refinement and genuine elegance.” (remarkable!)—smacks of roses, pear, and even freshly cut grass (yay!). As US Weekly notes, "Perfumes that contain notes of rose are very feminine. They're perfect for an outdoor wedding." Unless the flower arrangement is lilies—in which case, you’re just trying to steal the bride’s thunder.

Bliss Eau de Toilette

Time to chuck your mesquite-cayenne-brown sugar glazes, ladies! InStyle recommends this scent for those who want to be “party ready,” advising that you “spritz on fragrance that won't overpower the food, like this soft Bliss scent. With notes of cucumber and dewy greens, it's almost like a palette cleanser.”

Bonus: this fragrance also makes a nice digestif.

PS: What’s a dewy green?


Versace Versense



This musky scent from the Italian powerhouse is probably worth the $65 price tag. Cosmopolitan recommends it, so you know it’s gotta be good: “Want to conjure up a night with a hot Italian? Spray this light musk.”
Does she mean, like, Practical Magic style?

Celebrity Scents


Reveal, by Halle Berry

“Reveal is an invitation for women to share their story, to reveal some parts of themselves that they have not yet expressed,” Berry says.

But, you know, not the part of them that smells natural or bad.

Laugh Often, by Reese Witherspoon for Avon

This is part of a perfume trio called “Expressions,” a collection that “celebrates life, laughter and love and all the happy moments with the fragrances Live Without Regrets, Laugh Often, and Love to the Fullest.”

Due to underwhelming popularity, Witherspoon will be collaborating on another trio, tentatively titled, “Empowerment”:

Look At Me When I’m Talking to You, I Drink to Feel Pretty, and Dance Like You Know Everyone Is Watching.

(Reese is only laughing once in this pic. How often is that?)

Signature Summer, by David and Victoria Beckham

(I feel like they didn't appear in ads for this fragrance because, if you don't know what they look like, you shouldn't be buying it anyway.)



Who wouldn’t want to smell like these two? "With Signature Summer we wanted to create two summer scents that reflect us as individuals and as a couple," said David Beckham in the press release for the new scents. "The fragrance for men is very modern and masculine and therefore forms a nice contrast to the women's fragrance."

Because men and women are opposites, you see? Like a yin and yang, or a scratchy wool and fine cashmere, or soccer and pop singing. Reviewers note that the men’s scent “is a successful, metrosexual blend of citrus, floral and masculine notes.”

You know, like the smell of crisp $100 bills, leather, and semen--with a nice throw pillow.

Movin' On Up!

Hey gang!

I’m writing to you from a brand new office! This place is way better than our overcrowded veal pens in the midtown office. Not only are we a Sharon Stone’s throw away from a Bed Bath & Beyond, a Trader Joe’s, and The Container Store, there are windows everywhere, and more than one bathroom!!! It’s nearly 1pm and I haven’t heard anyone urinate, blow his or her nose, or hack up a lung all day. This is living!

To top it off, massa’s not here (apparently he’s in Russia—this doesn’t surprise me in the least), I have an audition this afternoon, and I don’t even have to be nervous or guilty about leaving because today is the first “summer Fridays,” aka early dismissal! I feel like the world might not want to oppress me today—score!

In other news: The side I got for today’s audition makes no sense whatsoever. It’s for [a popular brand of food storage containers], but the product’s not mentioned once, the script references what appears to be eight different characters, and I don’t know if I’m going in for “Woman 1” “Woman 2,” or “Mom”—who’s referred to as Deb. I think I’m going to have to play it Pauly Shore style. Say what you will about him, but that man knows how to work with nonsensical (BioDome and Encino Man, par example).

Happy Friday!

Good Morning, Starshine!

Happy Friday, y'all!

The time is 11:44am.

I have been awake since 5:15.

Since then, I have ---

****Wait, this just in. I must share a phone conversation I just had with the organizer of the watermedia thing I'm going to next weekend.

Guy: So, either myself or one of our volunteers will pick you up from the airport. How will I know what you look like?
Me: I'm black--which should make me pretty easy to spot.
[silence]
Me: I'm 27, which also stands out among the watermedia crowd--no AARP card for me! [he laughs] And I guess I'm tall--5'8"
[He repeats it as though he's writing it down.]
Guy: Ok, great. Unfortunately, there's no nearby hotel, so we'll be transporting you everywhere.
Me: Can you guys just get me one of those Jazzy Power Wheelchairs and I'll just zip myself around?
Guy: [laughs for two seconds, then] No.
Me: Okay, whatever's best for you guys.

******
Why does Caucasia get so freaked out when I tell them I'm black and ask for a motorized wheelchair? I swear, if we can't laugh about this whole thing, what do we have left? I really hope these folks can handle Sojourner's truths.

Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, been up since 5:15am.
Since then I've worked at a benefit breakfast for a religious-leadership organization that honored women who'd worked to bring positive change to the world. I checked in guests, asked people for tax-deductible donations, and generally tried not to fall asleep. It's not that I wasn't heartwarmed, but y'all, the last time I saw 5:15am, I was walking from a dorm room holding up my broken bra strap! Times have changed. I needed to go to bed.
I also reconnected with an artist-friend of mine, was asked to audition for a comedy festival, purchased really cute sale items from Urban Outfitters, and had some delicious organic egg whites.

Is this what being a parent feels like? By the time 10:15am rolled around, I walked into the office smug as all get-out (even though I couldn't manage to avoid entering Urban Outfitters and making a purchase when I was already 30 minutes late). As far as I'm concerned, the day is done.

What are you guys up to this weekend?

Tom Papa Don’t Preach!

He speaks truth to power—and is HI-larious!

Last night I went to Tom Papa's Comedy Central taping. I'd never seen him before, but I just wanted to go see a pro show, as I find it way more useful than attending a bunch of open mics where comedians are just trying all their new/worst stuff. Tapings are free, sure to be funny (since the comic’s doing this for TV, he’s bringing his A-game), and make me feel really, really cool.

I didn’t check out YouTube clips beforehand because I wanted to be surprised. Turns out that he’s the host of the reality show “The Marriage Ref.” I’m kinda glad I didn’t know that, or I wouldn’t have gone.

I went with two of my gal pals, and was more nervous that they wouldn’t like it—after all the open mics I’ve been to, my tolerance for raunch, crap, and silliness is pretty high.

When he walked on stage in a suit and tie, I knew it was gonna be all right. I am so over comedians who act like they’re too cool to iron a damn shirt or put on a sensible pair of slacks. If you have the talking stick and are forcing me to look at you, please do me the service of not dressing like a sister wife! (Those gals are clearly saving some magic for the Celestial Kingdom.)

Apparently, he’s been opening for Seinfeld for years, and you could tell he was a seasoned pro. There was one point where he spaced out, and I could tell he lost his place. But he just took a beat, got quiet, and the crowd went silent—I got very nervous for him, like I was his mom and this was his 8th-grade recital. But the moment he got his bearings, the laughter was uproarious; it was good to see that even if there’s 20 seconds of silence or no punchline, a quiet audience isn’t a bad thing. They'll chill out for a sec, but they won't abandon you that quickly.

I also noticed that his entire set was clean—not a single curse word, no real talk of sex—and it was all about the generalities: women, men, marriage, kids, facebook taking over the world. I’m only now realizing how important it is to have the generalities and the clean sets. I keep being told to “tighten it up”—take out extraneous words, get to the punch faster—and it annoys me, because I’m just not a setup/punchline comedian. But the fact is, if I hope to take it to the next level, I’ve got to have a “tight five” (5-minute set that’s clean, for tv shows like Letterman). And if I want to do touring shows (colleges, events, etc), I’ve also gotta have jokes that aren’t so specific to NYC (apparently, even the line “I have had hasty sex to avoid a subway transfer” won’t really hit home to those in the hinterlands). Realizing how many different types of jokes one has to have—and constantly have ready if the crowd isn’t what you expect—is a bit daunting. On the way home from the show, I broke out my notebook and reviewed my stuff. I made a list of everything that didn’t have a curse word in it (or could still work without the cursing) and everything that any person from any background could relate to. I shy away from that type of "everyman stuff" because it’s kinda boring to me. My brain moves really fast (do you see how much I type in 12 minutes?), so when it comes to a cliché or common occurrence we can all relate to, I’ve got the punchline before it comes, and assume the audience will, too—where’s the humor in that? If I don’t crack myself up with it, why would I say it on stage, you know?

As you can see, Tom Papa has had a profound effect on my life. Here are some clips—maybe he’ll touch something deep inside of you, too.

Wedded Bliss/I'm a Fatty

I'm still doing it, guys--three posts this week! To get you through the blacktress-free weekend, here's a real long 'un.....

It's 10:45am and I got to work about 30 minutes ago—and the first thing I do is start blogging. After leaving the house 30 minutes late, I headed straight into the GAP store 2 blocks from my office to buy a pair of jeans. You see, guys, I woke up this morning and discovered that NONE OF MY PANTS FIT ME.

Yes, I have gotten just that tubby. I left the house in pants that would not zip or button, like some sort of Klump.

FML.

I was in a pit of despair most of this week and haven't been sleeping—my only solace came Tuesday night at 12:30am, when I was able to catch the last half hour of the newest episode of "16 and Pregnant" (right at the good part, where she gives birth, goes home, and discovers that babies are "a lot of work"), followed by the genetic-anomaly documentary "My 40-year-old Child." I thought it would be about adult males who spend all day making humorous internet videos, but it was about a boy who was 40 years old but had the body of a 10 year old, and was blind and mentally handicapped. Really tugged at the heartstrings.

I started to rally yesterday—even sleeping more than 6 hours last night—and then woke up to discover that I'm a lard ass.
So I went to the GAP, where a size 4 is really a 10, and made a purchase. Diet starts today.

I think I'm gonna hop on the Jew train and observe Passover, see if I can drop some of this 16-and-pregnant belly. (Any group that builds an Atkins diet into their religion knows how to live. They don't call them 'The Chosen People' for nothing!)

After all, spring’s just around the corner, and summer is two houses down from there, so I won't be able to hide under layers for very long. I can't wait to sit in Central Park and eye-fuck strangers without consent behind my sunglasses (a lady always uses protection). In addition to the lengthened days and increased temperatures, there's yet another reason to stop eating my feelings: wedding season.
[NB: The following piece was rejected from TheHairpin, and largely intended for that audience. Soon-to-be-wedded friends, take a cue from mid-90s R&B songstress Monica, and don't take it personal!*]

I don’t know why this is happening. I didn’t think I’d have to go to these until my 30s, at which point I would not only be financially solvent (and able to buy gifts on your multiple registries and travel to such exciting destinations as your grandmother’s home in Des Moines), but I’d have my own boo locked down—or, at the very least, a bitter divorce that would excuse me from attending. So far I am attending four weddings in 2 months, two of which take place on back-to-back weekends in Vermont. What am I supposed to do there? The last time I was out in nature, I got a tick in my woman parts.

“But Sojourner, what about all the free food, unlimited booze, and merriment?” you may ask. Look, I love a good shindig as much as the next blacktress, but by the time I find a dress that I’m willing to be photographed in, book a hotel, and get to the venue, no amount of Trader Joe’s wine can take that edge off. I inevitably find myself standing by the dessert buffet next to the groom’s aunt or cousin, who points to the happy couple saying, “that’s gonna be you next, dear!”
Um, Aunt Rina, my Jewboo and I make Monopoly money and we can’t even share food, let alone a lifetime.

I’m never a bridesmaid, but the fact that I’m a comedian/actor often gets me roped into other tasks. Remember when I planned a bachelorette party for my doctor-friend? Next month I’ll be doing a brief reading for a Midwestern ceremony and even attend the rehearsal dinner (i love food—see above—but why do I have to practice eating???). I know these are magical times in good friends’ lives, but can’t I just comment on the post-wedding facebook album and pretend I was there? Regardless, I’m gonna have to go through hundreds of photos to either un-tag myself or have something to watch while I’m eating ice cream and sobbing.

My mother always said, “Laugh, and the whole world laughs with you. Cry, and I’ll give you something to cry about.” So I’ve come up with a list of activities that can make this wedding season a bit less depressing:

• See opportunity to hang out with people over the age of 40 as a chance meet potential financial backers, agents, and managers. It may be the bride’s special day, but you’ve still got bills to pay, and dreams that can no longer be deferred! (Only do this if you have 20-40 8-x-11 headshots)
• Order both the fish and beef entrée and go to town.
• Arrive at the reception in fuzzy house slippers. If anyone balks, ask them if they know where your mommy is—adorable!
• Find the one psychologist on the guest list and get some free medical attention. (It’s likely that if you have a few too many glasses of white wine, you’ll start crying and this person will come to you.)
• Tack on extra days to either end of the trip and try to get some you-time in. Nothing says “I’m worth it!” like the presidential sweet at the Des Moines Radisson.
• Request “Single Ladies” every hour on the hour, clearing the dance floor each time to display your skillzzz.
• Practice identity theft. Forget the out-of-town guests—find the out-of-country guests and create a mystique. I enjoy starting a whisper campaign in which I claim to be a television star (movies have too international a reach. Name some local show the Germans haven’t heard of, and you’ll be the center of every photo for the rest of the night).
• If you can’t bring a boo, bring your main gay. He’ll look really cute, charm everyone, and always tell you if there’s food in your teeth.
• Help the help—not by doing actual labor, but by chatting them up. They’re almost all creative types and have a wonderful bitter streak that will be able to handle your self-loathing. Bonus points if you make out with a waiter by the crab puffs—or get a doggie bag filled with crudité.

This is what we call turning lemons into lemon drops, people.

*For those who don't know, here's one of the greatest songs in the history of R&B:

Everything's Coming Up Blacktress!

Happy Friday, Gentle Readers!!!

So much has happened over the last few days, and you’re the only people I want to share it with. Let's get to it.

Tuesday’s commercial audition was a lot of fun. It was for a rental car company, and called for “subtle comedy.” This was my second professional audition ever, and I felt nervous, like when you're about to go on a date with someone you've already slept with. It was at the same casting studio as my first audition, so I knew what to expect and wasn’t all sweaty and awkward. Although my call time was 2:15, I didn’t go in for about 30 minutes. That would have normally given me tons of time to freak out and judge everyone else, but I actually didn’t go there, instead choosing to text Jewboo, and chat up a friendly gay sitting next to me. Turns out he also does improv and was super sweet. We're totes fb friends now.

When my name was called, I went in and just had fun. I didn’t even notice that the “Employee” character for which I was auditioning had a line until about 5 minutes before I was called in (the photocopy was a hot mess--it looked like the remnants of a cave drawing). I even had to play a male character—complete with a Boston accent—so that the agent could see my scene partner say the “Employee” line. It was all of 3 minutes, but it was fun, and I made the agent laugh—which I took as a good sign seeing as he’d spent the last 5 hours hearing the same three-word line over and over. I walked out feeling happy that I got out of my own way, you know? Blackting is reacting, and I did what I could do.

My new way of looking at these things is this: an audition is a chance for me to leave this hellish plantation and do what I love to do, even if it’s just for 60 seconds. It doesn’t matter if I get it, because I’m having fun. I’m not letting the massa define me, or these crazy artists run my show!

With that fun feeling, I went into Wednesday night’s Gotham Comedy Club show with high spirits, but a bundle of nerves. It was my first time at the venue, and it turns out there was industry watching. I went up and the crowd loved it (Apparently, we can all relate to wintercourse)! I got accolades from total strangers (many of whom were middle-aged members of Caucasia), and even had a one-on-one notes session with the manager of the club.

He was all business, in a fierce suit and spectacles that said “I got my eyes on the prize.” I’d seen him taking notes throughout the entire show, so I knew he was serious. When I went in to meet him, I was slightly nervous but I could tell he liked me—probably because he offered me a bottle of Perrier (poppin’ bottles, y’alls!). He proceeded to break down my set, and really, his only direct suggestions were “Slow down, take your time. You’ve got a lot of funny stuff there” and “I want to hear more about the magazine, more about Jewboo, more about Caucasia.” I was like, honey, if I had more than 7 minutes, you’d get the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!

He was shocked that I had only been doing comedy off and on for a few years, and told me to just keep writing and keep getting up there. It was so gratifying, and I went home—well, after a stop at the Donut Plant and Lucky’s Burgers—on cloud nine.

On my way out of the house yesterday morning I saw that payment for some freelance work I'd done had finally arrived--nothing says “it’s gonna be a good day” quite like unexpected money, y'all. I knew the commercial was shooting on 3/31, and figured they wanted to lock it down ASAP, so when I didn’t get a call on Wednesday, I thought that was that. Although I walked out feeling good, it's all a crapshoot, you know?

Then, at 5:00pm yesterday the unthinkable happened: I saw I had a missed call from the agent who sent me out. I knew she wasn’t just checking in. I listened to her message:
“Hey Blacktress, it’s [Mariel], you got called back! Call me back and let me know you’re available!”
Yes, y’all!!! Blacktress goes in today, at 12pm EST to bring the funny!!!

I’m blogging now so that you can say a little prayer for me. Imagine: you’ll turn on your television screens and see the BLACKTRESS on the regular!!! I’m trying not to be nervous and just go in and do me, but this entire morning is a wash. I can’t be thinking about fruit in bowls and landscapes when I need to get ready for my close-up.


xoxo,

Blacktress!

Happy Women's History Month!

Study Undercuts View of College as a Place of Same-Sex Experimentation.

The National Survey on Family Growth found that women with bachelor’s degrees were actually less likely to have had a same-sex experience than those who did not finish high school.
“It’s definitely a ‘huh’ situation, because it goes counter to popular perceptions,” said Kaaren Williamsen, director of Carleton College’s gender and sexuality center.

[Two women sit on a couch after a delicious meal. Two half-empty bottles of wine (one for each othem, obvi) sit on the table in front of them. The lights are dimmed.]
Woman 1: Did you know that most women who graduated a four-year college probably haven’t ever had a homosexual encounter?
Woman 2: HUH?????
Woman 1: I said, if you didn’t graduate high school, you probably know how to go down on some downtown.
Woman 2: HUH????? What if you have an associate’s degree?
Woman 1: I don’t know. But I do have a certificate in special education.
[She leans in to her guest, lips parted. Woman 2 jumps back, flustered.]
Woman 2: I went to Dartmouth, I—
Woman 1: Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.

That, ladies and gentleman, is a classic “'huh' situation”.

Getting off Struggle Strasse

You know how they say it’s hard out there for a pimp? Well, I think it’s much harder for a blacktress (didn’t the pimp get an Oscar nom?). Y’all, I am on Struggle Street, for serious. I mean, we all know struggle street (or, as I like to call it, struggle strasse to really highlight the pain)—how it feels when you’re swamped at work one week, when you’re getting rejected like a Jersey Shore cast member’s college application, when you wake up with no heat or hot water and don’t know what to do.

But normally, you get through it. It’s just one of life’s many valleys, and you know there’ll be another peak. In those moments, you’re just walking down Struggle Strasse—you know, you took a wrong turn, but you know that once you get your bearings you’ll be back on Make It Happen Boulevard.

Sometimes, though, it’s not so simple. Sometimes you end up on Struggle Strasse and get wooed by its cheap rent. You’re so hopeless you end up signing a damn lease and the next thing you know, it’s the middle of summer and you find out the windows in your apartment in the Struggle Strasse Projects can’t open, much less support an air conditioner.

That’s where I’m at right now. Nothing tragic happened—I just sorta let this malaise snowball, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m even young, gifted, or black! (did you see one of the recent angry comments? I’m a discredit to the race!) I had a few shows happening, but I’m running out of new material—and not really writing more!!! What kind of roll-over-and-play-dead kind of behavior is this?! Definitely more wacktress than blacktress.

I think it really has to do with not liking my job, and not really knowing what alternatives I have—you know, probably the way an oppressed person feels almost everyday. I’m not accustomed to this. As mamadukes says to me when I’m acting a fool, “I didn’t work hard so you could cry all day.” That, and “if you want sympathy, you can find it between ‘shit’ and ‘syphillis’ in the dictionary.”

It’s tough love, but it works.

I don’t know what to do people! I’m trying to write funny hilarities to pitch to humor sites, and my brain turns to mush! What’s hip with the young kids? Is Bieber still hot? Why have I missed so many episodes of GLEE? This is what happens when you spend your evenings hunched over Edy’s Slow Churned Ice Cream (it doesn’t matter if it’s half the fat when you eat twice as much of it!).

All right, y’all, I’ll stop the rant. Just tell me what to do. Please leave a comment that answers the following:

1. Sojourner, the TRUTH is you should be spending your time doing ________ for a living.

2. Blackting is…..
a. Reacting
b. Attacking
c. Distracting
d. Comparing yourself to other people and wondering if the world still thinks you’re 3/5 of a woman.

3. When your drag queen boss tells you that your tone “concerns him,” you should
a. Calmly explain your point of view.
b. Send a clarifying email, so as not to give away your hatred via eye rolling and sighing. Then, look for a new job on monster.com.
c. Start looking into working holiday visas and see if New Zealand will let you back in.
d. Cut a bitch.

I'm Eating a Slice of Carrot Cake at 10:45am

Hey there, Sharks and Jets,

I know, it’s been a week without bloggery. I’ve been feeling so damn bored/boring. Yesterday was definitely bringing back memories of The Summer of New Lows, as I had the following discussion with my life partner, KWalsh
me: oh thank god!
i've been waiting for you to appear on the internet all morning
katie bear, i need you
KWalsh: haha
whats up
me: pleaassseee come to new york. i will pay for your ticket
you can stay at my house
PLEASE
KWalsh: whats going on?
me: i hate everything. i am in a depressed malaise
is that even a thing?
KWalsh: of course it is
come to st. croix for halloween!
we are going to have a pizza party
me: i'm just......like, why am i even trying to exist?

This went on for another 30 minutes, and only ended when I realized I needed to pick up my anti-depressant prescription. I then chased my morning dosage (up 50 milligrams!) with a sip of lukewarm coffee.

Breakfast of champions, I tell ya!

This could have something to do with the fact that I’m two weeks behind on GLEE—that show always makes me feel good about the state of the world. The only thing that’s gotten me through it is the NYC Gubernatorial race. Everyone and their mom has decided to run, and most of them are a hot-ass mess.

I am kind of obsessed with this cray cray Jimmy McMillan, who is currently running for Governor of NY. For those of you followers who aren’t in NYC (and haven’t had all of your internet streams overrun with his youtube clips), I present to you the following, from the leader of “The Rent is 2* Damn High Party”:



Um, I cannot handle this Papa Smurf rocking the gloves. Do you think his facial hair is real? I feel like he’d be good friends with Dr. Tyrone Hayes. They both favor odd hair and are very self-righteous.

I love that I’ve been at work nearly two hours, and not a scrap of work has gotten done. I really should look alive, especially since the raise I was promised 5 months ago finally came through! Yes, y’all—Overseer and Massa came to an agreement, and my money was provided!!!

And, to top it off, Overseer came in the office yesterday and actually issued me an apology! AND, instead of being all deferent and whatnot, I just said “Thank you.” I am going to acknowledge your foolery and throw you a bone for owning up to it. I can’t stand having to tell a grown ass member of Caucasia about himself—he saved me some time.


So, you know, all in all, things are fine. I need to stop being jealous of comedian/improviser friends getting TV gigs and handle my (creative) scandal. The unfortunate thing is that most of the auditions “that fit my profile” on actor’s access seek “African American female, 35-45, a bit overweight, natural. ETHNIC HAIRSTYLES accepted.” Not only am I too YOUNG, but I’m not giving them enough “mammy” in my headshot! I think I’ll remedy this by eating a slice of pie. After all, it’s for my career.

How you be, boos? What are you doing this weekend?

*[yes, “2”]

Paging Dr. Johnson.....

Happy Friday, y'all!! It's not even 10am, and I'm already shopping on VictoriasSecret.com.
As I look for discounted brassieres to keep my lady lumps supported, I keep toggling back and forth between the VS window, the blog post, and our general email account--that way, if the massa or the overseer comes by, I can quickly look like I'm being useful and not buying undergarments (or looking at porn--these Vicky's girls are soooo sensually posed!).

As I procrastinate, I happen upon the greatest press release this year. Of course, I have to share this with you:

Hi, this is [PR Person] with _____ Media Group.

So many men are fed up with their ‘man boobs’ (‘moobs’). Even women often wish something could be done. The nation will definitely want to hear about this new, quick, and safe procedure, so we would be grateful if you could read the press release below and help us pass this information on. The doctor behind this life-changing procedure has appeared on numerous media outlets. If you are interested in arranging an interview with Dr. Johnson, please contact me directly. Thank you.



FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Dr. Johnson separates the men from the boys - and the men from the men with ‘moobs’.
Women are not the only ones concerned about cup size anymore. Now men can quickly and safely have their breasts, or ‘moobs,’ reduced. Dr. [weirdo freaking me out] offers a procedure to eliminate extra fat from and tighten the skin of the pectoral area. When the fat is gone, so are the moobs. Minus moobs, men look and feel much better.
[Blacktress' note: The word 'moobs' has appeared 4 times in 6 sentences. I'm uncomfortable. I'm also not clear on how he separates men from boys. Are we talking conjoined twins, or just elaborate hazing rituals for new clients? ]

The strictest diets and exercise regimes cannot conquer all moobs: this procedure can. The old stigma of men seeking cosmetic enhancement is gone. Moob reduction was among the most popular elective surgeries in 2009, says the American Academy of Cosmetic Surgery. Dr. J----- combines VibroLipo (Tickle liposuction) with SmartLipo to effectively combat the most stubborn moobs, also known as gynecomastia. The recovery period is brief - most patients can return to work the next day. They feel better about their bodies just as soon.

My goodness! It would seem that as I sit at my desk, trying to find products to help me tame my stubborn boobs, many of the nation's men are struggling with their own breast issues!! Although I can try to relate, my problems with this press release are manifold. Let me break it down:
- I work at an ART magazine. We in no way advertise or target our product toward men seeking breast-reduction surgery. How on earth did we get on this PR company's mailing list, and why would they think we'd be interested in such a thing?
- Look, I love a good portmanteau as much as the next grammar nerd. It was kinda cute when the press used the term 'brangelina'; it was saccharine when the freakish couple 'TomKat' came on the scene. But it started getting annoying when people called male nannies 'mannies,' and now MOOBS is just out of control. I don't know why any medical professional would want to be affiliated with creating a ridiculous word of this nature. His credibility has instantly been undermined. Imagine swirling your brandy glass at a dinner party while the guy next to you says, "I just saw Dr. Johnson--he's a leading moob specialist."
Um, I have to go....over there.
-I love how the PR guy says "the national will definitely want to hear about this..." Um, I'm not quite so sure about that. The nation? Really? I think there may be more pressing news briefs that warrant national attention.
- "The most stubborn moobs" -- hahahaha!!!

Glory Days

Hey gang,

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

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

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

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

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.

I am Free and so is my Time

Whew, what a week, y’all!!

I have done a whole lot of nothing, I tell ya. It’s been hard trying to look busy, yet still find ways to keep me entertained.

The first two days of the week I sat at my desk sneakily grading film exams (you know about my side hustle as a grader for undergrad film at my alma mater, right?), but just felt guilty the whole time, and it stressed me out. Luckily, there was enough ridiculousness in these exams to keep me focused. For instance, take this lovely lad’s analysis of French film theorist Francois Truffaut:
"truffaut wrote an article ragging on the tradition of quality in french cinema post WWI--based on literature, historical, expansive. truffaut says 'BAD!' "

Or this tender lamb’s identification of German filmmaker Rainer Werner Fassbinder:
"he made movies at a rapid pace, due both to his constant circle of collaborators and his high consumption of drugs"
Yep, that’s why, kid. Keep at it.

With very little to do at work, my gchat’s been a-buzz, and Katie Walsh has even managed to get me excited about my college reunion, which is next weekend. Of course, when one’s brain lacks stimulation, it can quickly atrophy. Take, for instance, a question I posed to KWalsh in all seriousness on Wednesday:
Me: is there an electronic facebook? i mean, like, of JUST our class.
i need to go through the archives, see who's hot
KWalsh: electronic facebook-- let me direct you to it
hahahhahahahaha
sorry, that’s the funniest thing.

Yes, I really asked if there was an electronic facebook.

Lord knows I shouldn’t even be thinking about who’s hot anyway, now that I’m all Jewboo’d-up. Sometimes I forget about it, cause I’ve been single so long, and always tried to sabotage every relationship I’ve ever been in. But I’m really trying not to be a hot mess with this one, even though sometimes I backslide. Luckily, I make up for my crazy with food. Food and orgasms. Yup, that’s the key to a man’s heart—through his stomach and his penis.

We’re even collaborating in the form of a humorous internet video. We’re like an interracial Jay-Z and Beyonce—or, more appropriately, JEW-Z (I enjoy Jewish puns as much as I love black puns). I’ve slept my way to the top, y’all, and will be playing the role of Rabbi Blowdart in what is surely to be the most insane, gender-bending 5-minute video that vimeo has ever seen.

I have no idea if it’ll be funny, and Jewboo clearly doesn’t understand the seriousness of being a blacktress. When I asked him what I should wear/bring, he said, “Something cute.”
What on earth does that mean?!
When I searched online for “female rabbis” (I’m a method blacktor), however, I didn’t get much of a hint—but I did find out the greatest piece of news ever:

Alysa Stanton is the first black female rabbi!!


Talk about a Challahback girl!!

Seriously, y’all!! This happened last year—how am I so behind?!
She’s at a temple in North Carolina, and of course, the irony of being black rabbi in an all-white congregation in the south isn’t lost on the rabbi.
“God has a sense of humor,” she said.
Oh my god, I love her. I bet we could sit around and eat latkes and talk about being cross-over sensations.

You know, not having much to do actually allows me to get real ish done, like pay my credit card bill and turn the blog into a legit .com! Holla at a commercial entity, y’all!! Now, you can get rid of the “blogspot,” and just click diaryofamadblacktress.com, and get your dose of Sojourner’s Truth! I don’t know why it took me three years to do this—I was so scared I’d need that $10 at some point, I guess. It’s only when you’ve got nothing better to do but stare at your cuticles that you finally take some BLACKtion.

This free time also allows me to do crazy things, like pass Jewboo’s resume on to my boss for a possible paid internship position. At first, I did it as a joke, sort of just trying to help the boo get something (you know a Jewboo without a job is like a day without sunshine!!), but then when I told him, he was actually interested. I then felt compelled to see this process through, as I know finding employment is important to him.
So, he’s through the pipeline….for now. After a bit more of a think on it (which I had tons of time to do….are you seeing a theme here?), I realized nothing would be more awful than Jewboo in my workplace, where I act a fool with my office wife, am grumpy all day, and often show up looking just a two steps above homeless. This would be the kiss of death for our love affair. Even Jay-Z knows he's gotta collabo with A-Keys sometimes, just to keep it fresh.

Anyhoo, I refuse to stress—although I definitely have the time to. I’m cheering myself with the news that I got from the president of the watercolor society this week—I’ve been invited to his home to cover a workshop!

Remember how I told you about my fabulous Friday evening at the watercolor society banquet? Well, it was all I could have hoped for. As the youngest and brownest person in the room, I felt like I’d crashed the AARP yearly social, but everyone was actually quite nice. Drunken geriatrics are hilarious, and the art puns flowed as abundantly as the wine. Some favorites include:
“I thought I got Rose madder, but it was just a pigment of my imagination.”
“Who hasn’t ever just gotten lazy and went for the cheap Hooker’s—Hooker’s green, I mean!!”
These are only funny if you know paints…and if you’re 70.
I sat at the cool kid’s table, with the society president, my boss, and the jurors. As the prez and I talked, he pointed across the table to a man who was cracking jokes. “That’s my partner. He’s a diva.”
Yes, folks. I was at a table with not one, not two, but THREE retirement-aged homosexuals.
BEST. NIGHT. EVER.
Of course, the idea of going to the home of two of these gentlemen and talking paints would be nothing short of magical—and to get paid for it, no less!!

What should I wear? It won’t be until July, so we have time to plan.
Maybe I’ll spend the rest of the day doing that.