Friday Mash-up Post

Hey friends!

How are you going? Please excuse my lack of bloggery--trust me, it hurts me more than it hurts you. I'm all out of whack and speaking in Aussie slang because I have two gals from Sydneytown staying with me. It's kinda surreal to come home and find two people I haven't seen in more than 2 years getting dolled up in my bathroom. Although guests are stressful, these are two women I adore. One is the daughter of my Aussie mum, and her roommate, Prue, is my ex-wife. (We were facebook-married for quite a time, but being a real-life lesbian, Prue found our status to be a real clit-block.) Our love, however, never waned.

A shared love of Pink (the singer, not the Victoria's Secret clothing line), vodka-cokes, and karaoke led to many a long night on their balcony.

It was she who lent me the first book in the Twilight series. I am forever in her debt.

I'm so happy they're here, but you guys know how I need time to openly sob and eat ice cream in my underwear at the end of a long day. Having visitors means I'm in 24/7 stress-mode. I came home to find that they'd used the countertop sponge to wash the dishes and I had to say a serenity prayer. I had a dream last night that they didn't know how to turn off the stove and left the gas on and we almost died.

****THIS JUST IN: I GOT CALLED BACK FOR THE MICROSOFT COMMERCIAL!!!****

Did I mention that I'd auditioned for this last week? Well, anyway, yeah. I left feeling awkward and was supposed to have been notified by 9/12, but when I didn't hear back, I forgot about it. You can imagine my joy when Martin (my new favorite gay) called me up and told me that I'm going in on Tuesday!

*****BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG POST****

I think I'm just really nervous about the showcase tonight cause my mom is coming. But I've been working on a new opener based on my African ancestry that's been getting some good responses. (I'm hoping the 30 Rock rep casts me as Toofer's sister who thinks he's as much of a blowhard as everyone else.)

I think I'm also being cray cray because I haven't had private time with Jewboo in over a week! Guys, I'm straight-up longing, 19th-century style. It's gotten to the point where I'm keeping a picture of us on my bedside table. Is he in Brooklyn or Afghanistan--either way, I am holding on to memories. It's hard when you're both working by day and trying to have dreams by night. Yesterday, all I ate was a probiotic yogurt and a trader joe's café latte in a can! I'm sitting at my desk, eating a lunch of grapes and....GRAPES! That's it, y'all.

Oh, before I go, I must share this inappropriately angry email I got from a reader of my magazine:

I must complain about the adhesive you use to attach mailing labels to the covers of ---- magazine. I subscribe to several magazines. All have labels which peel off easily and leave no residue. I tried pulling the labels off the Summer and Fall issues of ---- and was left with areas of a sticky substance which I could not remove. I tried removing the gum with rubber cement thinner which resulted only in removing the ink on the cover. I had to cut the corner off the issue to get rid of the gumminess. This, of course, was counterproductive as the reason for removing the label in the first place was to see the artwork in full. How about changing your technique so we all can enjoy the artwork.

Really, lady? Really? Our mailing-label technique???? How about you end sentences with the proper punctuation and go take your frustration out on the kids who never return your calls? Here's my drafted reply:

Dear [Judith Light],

I am very sorry to hear that you're having such trouble with our mailing labels. Perhaps you should purchase the magazine on the newsstands or not have an address. You seem like a scrappy, pugnacious woman who could fend for herself on the streets--maybe even become some sort of gang leader. I mean, rubber cement thinner for a mailing label? Judith, your talents are wasted on reading our magazine. I have attached a jpeg of the painting as it appeared on the cover--no corners cut at all!

Hope this helps. Thank you for your continued interest in our publication.

Best,

Sojourner

I would like to end this post with a little video--you know, cause it's Fri-day, Fri-day, Fri-ee-i-ee-i-day. How's about an awesome fake trailer?! Manic pixie dreamgirls drive me cray!

The Emperor Club’s New Groove

Okay, so as you all know by now, former NY governor Eliot Spitzer resigned after he was discovered to be part of a prostitution ring known as the Emperor’s Club VIP. A high-priced international call-girl ring that serviced wealthy men in major cities around the globe, The Emperor’s Club’s clients paid upwards of $3,000 per hour for a moment of magic with some classy broads. They say on their website (which has been taken down):

We specialize in introductions of: fashion models, pageant winners, and exquisite students, graduates and women of successful careers (finance, art, media, etc…) to gentlemen of exceptional standards.

Women are rated on a diamond scale (cause, really, who doesn’t love bling?) of three to seven, with their rating directly proportional to a price of an evening or hour with them. A three-diamond ho costs $10,000 per day; a four-diamond ho costs $12,000; a five-diamond trick costs $15,000; a six-diamond tramp costs $21,000; and a seven-diamond lady of the night will set you back $31,000.

Um, let’s take a look at the chick Spitzer was caught with:

How many diamonds do you think this homegirl’s worth?

Here’s a screen capture of some of the ladies of the Emperor’s Club:

Notice that none of them are darker than a paper bag—at least, not without the help of a tanning bed.

Clearly, this is where Sojo comes in.

I’ve been inspired by the work of fellow blacktivist Scribe, who recently ended her Adopt-A-Darkie Campaign. Capitalizing on White celebrities’ preference for brown babies, she put herself up for adoption, even offering to wear a diaper and call Gwyneth Paltrow “mammy” if she helped eradicate her student loans.

This, to me, is genius. Some may call it “Selling Out” or acting as a “brazen race traitor,” but I call it acting on the freakonomics of the day and letting a rich white person work for you.

So here I sit, in all my mocha brownness.

Emperor’s Club, I offer my services to you.

Looking at the screen capture above, it’s clear they are missing some key flavors of dark chocolate. The only black girl they feature—a “Caribbean Beauty”—is lighter than Halle Berry, and certainly won’t cure any of these wealthy men’s chocolate addictions.

(You won't piss of the Spitzers at Seder dinner with that light skin!)

And we all know they have them. In fact, there is nothing a powerful white male wants more than for a black woman to say he has a big penis and let him….colonize her dark CUNTtry, if you will.

How do I know?
You don’t want to know.

I think I’d be an excellent addition to the Emperor’s Club—especially if I’m getting a substantial cut of that $31,000 per day (oh yes, I’m a seven-diamond sister). This is also payable in euros and pounds, which means I’ll be doing some international travel—to lands where all the men are down with the brown.

Reasons I’d Be a Good Emperor’s Club Trick

1. I’m young and fertile, but I won’t get knocked up.
2. I’m discreet (um, you will not find Sojo on myspace, with her crotch out and about, bent over a Vespa)
3. I’m really dark-skinned. I mean, I Am. Black. You won’t have any doubt that you’re doing something taboo when I’m in your boudoir!!
4. I, too, was an “exquisite student” (HIGH HONORS from a prestigious New England private university, what what?!)—the epitome of high-class ladies that the Emperor’s Club takes in.
5. I don’t talk White, I talk right. I can be your arm candy at all your events, and I’ll be even more well-spoken and dazzling than your wife.
6. For the right tip, we can even play “Thomas Jefferson and the Slave Girl”….. let the hate mail begin….

Basically, what I’m trying to say is: if Spitzer had gotten down with a sister, he might still be governor today.