Tales from the Crypt Vol 1

Hey friends!!

I must apologize for my lack of bloggery. I had little to no internet access during my work trip (those northern NY bitches are territorial when it comes to their WiFi) and had to settle for tweeting the madness from my phone. Now back from my upstate painting "expo," I don't even know where to begin. Do I start with the newly widowed diva who loved to use jazz hands or her sister, who's coming to NYC next week and wants to meet up with me? What about the asshole artist who disrespected me several times in public settings? Or what about the high school girl's lacrosse team who took up all the rooms on the floor of the hotel that I was on?

Maybe I'll just start with the easy stuff for this installment: the racism of AARP artists!

Quick quiz: Which of the following was said in total seriousness during this weekend's work event?

a) "These are the top dogs in watercolor."

b) "White is the most powerful thing we have--we never want to lose that power."

c) "It's a challenge to paint anything that's dark."

d) "With 1 being stark-white and 10 being black, we'd agree that we're a 3 or 4." [followed by resounding murmurs of agreement]

e) All of the above.

I'll give you 30 seconds..........

If you guessed E, give yourself a gold star!!!!!

This event was out of control. As expected, I was the youngest person by at least 25 years (there were two 40-somethings) and the only person of color. "You're the editor of [insert name of magazine that won't get me fired]?" attendees said no less than 40 times over the weekend.

"I KNOW!!" was my standard response.

Okay, I will say that the weekend wasn't as painful as I thought it would be--in some ways. The attendees/grandparents were very nice and had very positive things to say about the magazine and my work. The panel discussion I led at 8am on Sunday was well-received and the artists were great (except for the asshole). People liked my questions--which included such hard-hitters as "If you could paint only one subject for the rest of your career, what would it be?" and "What makes a painting done from a photograph a work of art?"--and one woman even said I had a future as a news anchor. Positives.

Negatives: I had zero control of when I came or went, being fetched as early as 7:45 am and getting back way past my work-event bedtime. Friday night I sat in a painting demonstration that lasted until 9:30pm and didn't get back to my room until 10:30--at which point I had no choice but to get over-priced food from the hotel restaurant because I hadn't eaten since the protein bar on the plane at 2pm and they weren't providing food.

The elderly are hilarious, however, and I did my best to stay entertained. The moment I arrived at the venue, I was accosted by Midge, a local artist who helped organize the event. She knew how to pronounce my last name all on her own, which immediately made me love her (for those who don't know, it's very ethnic and intimidating). After introducing herself, she went right into TMI territory, leaning in and taking a conspiratorial tone as she said, "My husband up and died on me last month, so I'm not myself."

I was told that Midge's husband "up and died on her last month" upwards of 9 times throughout the weekend by both Midge and her sister, Gail. Gail kind of took to me and stuck to me like glue all weekend. She kept saying--in her raspy smoker's voice that I loved-- "I don't want to participate, I like to watch. Really, I'm just here for Midge. She's just a saint. Husband up and died on her! Most women would be in the shadows, but she's out in the thick of it. Just a saint. Have you ever seen such a saint? I haven't, that's for sure."

Gail applied this type of repetition and hyperbole to everything.

Gail on the finger foods at Saturday night's event: "This is just the best little snack ever. Isn't it? Couldn't you just eat it all up all night? I could eat it up all night, that's for sure. Just the best in the whole world."

Gail on her granddaughter, who I have to meet when they're in town next week: "She's a real knockout. She's a blonde, smart as a whip. Just the prettiest, best knockout you've ever seen. She's a writer, Sojourner. She's one hell of a writer. Her short stories would knock your socks off, I mean it. Just the best in the whole world, that's for sure."

Gail on the meal she and her sis had before the event: We went to Wegman's and it wasn't even good, Sojourner. It was just me-di-o-cre. Just the most simple thing you've ever had in your life, I tell ya. Let's go get some more of those little snacks--aren't they the best ever? Come on, let's get some of those. I could eat those for dinner--that goat cheese in the dough is the best ever!" [At this point she would grab me by the arm and drag me to the food table with her.]

It wasn't until I met a dynamic lesbian who worked at the venue that the weekend started to look up. She and her partner Dana picked me up from the Saturday night event and I went with them and Leslie, the dyna-lez's daughter, to a vegetarian restaurant for dessert.

As always, gays save me from the darkness.

I gotta run now, but I'll be back with tomorrow installment of Tales from the Crypt!!!!

There's No Place Like (Someone Else's) Home

Here's an excerpt of a conversation I had with my mother on Sunday:

Mamadukes: Sojourner, when are you going to stop spending all your time with gay men?
Me: When they stop loving me, mother, when they stop being true. That's when.

She thinks that this is the main reason I am single. What she fails to realize is that for the first time in a rather long time, I could care less. I'm not a 'fag hag', but a Future Gay Icon, making my way through the gay ranks until I'm a contestant on RuPaul's Drag Race, so fierce in my performance that they let me compete even though I have lady parts.

I started to form this master plan over the weekend, and it all came together on Monday evening.

Friday night I met up with a great gay pal who was visiting from Australia, and spent the evening club hopping in the West Village and Hell's Kitchen. The highlight of the night had to be Peaces, a gay club in the West Village, where we met a bevy of boys. My favorite would have to be a man named--no joke--Robert Christmas, who stuck his finger down my butt crack and his gin-and-tonic straw in my cleavage before giving me his business card and saying, "you know you wanna facebook me." The man is a Christmas miracle.

See, it's that kind of straight-forward, no-bullshit tactic that the hetero males need to be taking if they want a shot with the blacktress--well, except for the ass-finger and straw-cleavage moves.

After an excellent night, I came home only slightly buzzed, as I didn't have to drown my sorrows of being surrounded by d-bag heteros with way too many vodka-sodas. I then was able to awake bright and early on Saturday and have lunch with two of my favorite boys, a couple that doesn't make me want to poke my eyes out. They invited me to a fellow friend's graduation party for Monday night, and I said, "Evite be damned, I'm coming!"

I woke up Monday with a heap of errands and to get myself in a can-do mood, I put on an outfit inspired by Joan Holloway from Mad Men (my latest addiction. I am obsessed with repressed White folks, high-waisted skirts, and 1960s social conventions). As I walked through midtown running errands, I noticed that a bevy of banker types were lightly eye-fucking me--I guess the sexy secretary vibe was working for me. Thank you, Joan!

However, it wasn't until I arrived at the graduation party that evening that I was truly the belle of the ball. Surrounded by professional gay couples, drinking white wine, I remembered why I feel most at home in moments like these--it's because when I'm with the gays, I'm the prettiest girl in the room! I met the graduate's parents, who had come from Witchita, Kansas, to celebrate their son and his boyfriend. As I took mom's camera and played paparazzi, I got to meet everyone and learned that Kansas is a hotbed of gay activity. How great is that?! My favorite people had to be the 18-year-olds who just moved to New York City together and are in a realationship! In their gray slacks and pastel button-downs (the gay uniform for events), they were just the cutest ever! I am kind of obsessed with their young gay love, and offered to buy them booze whenever the need arises--you know how I love to enable addictions.

As the party wound down, I chatted with the parental units, and they thanked me for taking pics, and then told me how pretty I was. "Where's your boyfriend, sweetie?" Mom asked me tenderly.
"Oh, he's right there," I said, pointing to one of my friends across the room. "And there. there. Oh, and there's another one there," as I pointed at various homosexual gentlemen. I then asked if I should move to Kansas to find a strapping lad who could handle a blacktress. Mom said yes, and next thing you know, she's taking down my blog address and wondering where she can see me do stand up.

I am now, like Dorothy, on a quest to return home to the plains of Kansas. Or, better yet, I am Diana Ross in "The Wiz." I am done with Munchkins and the lollipop guild. I will no longer be fooled by the little man behind the big curtain. I am ready to ease on down, ease on down the road.
Before I go, let me go ask one of my gays for a pair of sparkly red Mary Janes--teehee.

Stars-- They're Just Like ME!

Okay, this is getting out of control. Today, I walked into my favorite Chinese restaurant on the Upper West Side for lunch, and who do I see but actress Brooke Smith (not Hogan), who played the tough-as-nails heart surgeon who started a lesbian relationship with Sara Ramirez on Grey's Anatomy!!

I heart TV lesbians. Almost as much as I heart real-life ones.

Anyway, this restaurant has been a fixture in my life since I was a wee lass, and I even followed it when it changed locations. Their new spot is always half empty, even though they have a $6 lunch special that's NOT greasy or made of cat intestines! It's a real diamond in the rough.

So, I walk in and think I recognize this woman, but she was looking a bit sallow (you know the stars are without their makeup), and I wasn't sure. As I took my seat, she started talking and the voice proved it was her. As I texted a couple friends and tried to listen in on her conversation, I realized she was having a heart-to-heart with a (possibly gay) male friend. She was going through something intense. Snippets included:
"I never really felt like I belonged, so usually when I'm on set I just sort of retract."
What, she never felt like she belonged?! But she's been on Grey's! And Weeds!!
"I was just being myself, and this is why this is so hard and surprising."
I'm insecure, too!!!!!

I couldn't catch all of it, but I get the sense that there was some relationship that could never be, and that she wasn't expecting, but it didn't end the way she wanted it to (or maybe I'm projecting?).

I couldn't believe Brooke was just chilling with a best gay having a tender talk over cheap Chinese. Clearly this actress understands the plight of the blacktress. As they rose, he gave her a deep hug and they held each other tight, before walking out arm in arm. Oh my god, haven't I been there?

I've decided I'm getting a poster of her and putting it over my bed.