Home is where the Heart Jewboo Is

Hey friends!

How's your day going? I'm actually on a up-swing, largely because of baked goods. Wednesday is my birthday, which always gets me in a mood (What do I have to show for myself????). A need for a quick lunch led me to Hale & Hearty Soups at about 2pm, when I was ravenous. A need to stop feeling crappy led me to exit Hale & Hearty and hit the Crumbs right next door.

As I walked back to my office with an Oreo cupcake, I tried to rationalize my lunch decision. When I reached my desk, however, there was already a package from Crumbs waiting for me!!!! My coworker had gotten me an early birthday gift! Clearly, I was meant to eat a cupcake today. I feel like the world is on my side.

In other news: There have been intense happenings with Jewboo. Of course, since the blog has ceased to be a safe space for my emotions and dramatizations, I've had to confide in my main gay via gchat. But obvi I can't keep anything to myself for too long, so I must share the transcript.


me: THIS JUST IN:
JJSiii:!!!
me: From Jewboo at 9:53am:
Hey dear, now that my job situation is taken care of, maybe we can now start discussing seriously moving in together? How does that strike you? Just wanted to float that out there.
JJSiii: I assume this is a good thing?
me: Yes! While visiting his parents, we even took a quick gander at RINGS.
JJSiii: RINGS? STOP IT. I HAVE BEEN OUT OF YOUR GCHAT LIFE FOR TOO LONG.
me: SERIOUSLY.
We were visiting the parents and we went to the mall
and he went into video game store and i went into one of those shops--like, Kay Jewelers or something--cause that's my idea of true romance.
and then he met me there and we looked for, like, 15 minutes together
I TRIED THINGS ON
JJSiii: oh my gosh, oh my gosh.
Shit is serious. I'm, like, planning your wedding in my head.
By planning it, I mean that I'm thinking about how much I want to be at it.
JJSiii: EVEN THOUGH I'VE NEVER IRL MET THIS MAN.
me: YOU MAY BE GIVING ME AWAY
you know i need one of my main gays to give me away
JJSiii: OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH.
This is such a caps-lock occasion.
I'm basically fanning my non-existent Cindy Lou Va-Who-Who, because this news makes me WET WITH EXCITEMENT.

So, as you can see, there's a lot happening. Of course, there is no proposal on the horizon BUT we are talking about cohabitation, which is more than enough ch-ch-change for one decade. Of course, the big issue is Harlem vs. Brooklyn, and you know where I stand.

Really, guys, my aversion to Brooklyn isn't my fault--it's in my blood. Before I was born, my mom and dad lived in Brooklyn and when my mom was pregnant she planned to have me at Harlem Hospital, cause it was way better than the BK hospitals at the time. Can you imagine a woman with her water broken hopping in a cab, saying, "Get me to Harlem, stat!"

Clearly, this was before the days when cab drivers profiled.

As luck would have it, I was born a few weeks early, just when my mom was having a follow-up appointment with her doctor. When she hopped off the exam table her water broke and I came out a few hours later. I knew we couldn't wait until returning to BK.

The main issue is that I am living in a ridiculously large place in the heart of Manhattan. I'm beyond lucky and I don't think it's smart to abandon prime real estate I'd never be able to afford otherwise in a city that everyone wants to be in.
Jewboo's reasoning is that the Harlem house comes with substantial mama drama, and he doesn't want to be subjected to it--or, even worse, in the middle of the two of us.
And I get that. Most people who come over for a meal start talking about moving in; Jewboo isn't just going with what's easiest or trying to take advantage, which I respect. Plus, I'm done with being under my mom's thumb, too, and there is a lot of pride I have to swallow in order to be where I am. But....
Mama didn't raise no fool. You don't cast off a brownstone for a shoebox when you're increasing your household size. Me + Jewboo + 2 cats + all of our creative endeavors which would make great use of extra rooms as offices and rehearsal spaces = sucking it up and taking advantage of a sweet deal. Perhaps it's because Jewboo has never really seen himself as a "have not" and knows nothing of NYC besides expensive shoeboxes, so he's not really hung up on it. I think our standards directly relate to our expectations, and I will be the first to admit that I am spoiled when it comes to accommodations. Besides, the idea of moving every 2 years as you inevitably outgrow the space (after all, our Emmy collection will take up most of the shelves) isn't appealing.

Plus, I must say I'd love it if those two cats had a special closet for their litter box--you gotta confine that smell, people. I'm not trying to come home to the smell of "Not-so-Fresh Step." Of course, this is a totally luxury "problem," but if it's possible, why would you live any other way?

Then again, as we start a new phase of our relationship, it would be nice to start fresh, in a newtral space. And I'd love to be able to decorate and start from scratch and build a place together--and not have my mother popping over whenever she felt like it, ragging on how badly I maintain a house, like a demeaning Steve Urkel.

I don't know. I love the boy and definitely want him to be my forever friend, but I also don't believe in oppressing myself if I don't have to or denying myself a luxury simply because there are a few strings attached. I mean, there are always strings attached to stuff. It seems like it's more beneficial to work on establishing boundaries with mom than it is to abandon the Harlem house--wouldn't you say it's throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

Your comments/suggestions would be much appreciated. Perhaps you can help me frame it in a way that a Jewboo can understand.

I am a Funny Female!

Which I hope you already know. But, like, this is for real, guys! I’m not just funny in my head or on the internet—I have been deemed funny and added to a roster that includes the dopest lady comics in the country!!!!

I'm the first one on Friday at 8pm, and second on Saturday!

Tomorrow afternoon I head for San Francisco and I must say, I am nervous as all get-out. What began as California Dreams have become California nightmares. What if the crowd has no California Love for me? What if the California “Gurls” spew whipped cream from their boobies whenever they don’t like one of my punchlines? Will I ever want to go Back, Back to Cali, Cali?

I just have no idea what I’m in for—I just found out two days ago that the current high temp in SF is 62 degrees, and my mind is officially blown. There is no certainty in this life; all bets are fucking OFF. If I can’t even count on some semblance of summer weather, how can I make any assumptions about the audience? Will the crowd be full of supportive gays or crunchy hippies? What about people who aren’t stereotypes??? I won’t even know how to cope!

My whole bit about not wanting children better not get me boo’d off stage.

I’ve been hitting open mics over the last couple weeks, but I haven’t had a booked show in a while. Plus, I don’t even know what the venue’s going to be like. Is the stage wide or narrow, deep or shallow? How bright are the lights—are we talking ‘get out of the light, Carol Ann’ type of bright or an ‘Are you afraid of the dark?’ type of spotlight? I was all set to wear cute dresses on stage, but now that it’s gonna be about 50 degrees by showtime, I’ve gotta find something that’s both cute and warm—The shows are being filmed, streamed, and circulated—and I’ve got some new folks to meet!

Yesterday I got an email from a graduate student from an SF university, asking if she could interview me for her dissertation. I kid you not, gentle readers. I have been found and sought out for my blackting and comedy skillz. Hours before that request, I got a (far less sketchy) facebook message from a comic who said he saw me on the internets and “Just wanted to let you know that I am a big fan of your work. I would love to be added as one of your friends.”
A FAN OF MY WORK? If this is a sketchy spambot, I’ll take it!

Now that I officially have fans, I’ve got to buck up. I can’t let them down with a sub-par performance. The PhD student must devote at least a full chapter of her dissertation to the history of Sojourner ‘You Can’t Handle the’ Truth.

I’ve gotta find a way to fit chunky sweaters into my carry-on suitcase! I’ve gotta hope that Delta Airlines doesn’t do me dirty again, and hasn’t taken a page from the American Airlines handbook of fuckery.

I’ve gotta hope that I can get my hair did bright and early tomorrow and make it to JFK by 1pm.

I’m taking a lot of risks, and to top it off, I’ve been writing like a demon for the 25th anniversary issue of my magazine, which ships next week. Sure, I could have not decided to do a show across the country a week before my press date. But then I would have cut a bitch. I can’t let these artists stop me from having dreams, y'all—especially not my California Dreams.

Wish me luck!

Guess Who's Coming to Seder?

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this too much to ask for?

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

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

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

Best Pep Talk Ever

I head off to the VH1 shoot in about 30 minutes, and boy is my stomach in knots! Luckily, I have Kwalsh and JJSiii to give me the boost. I'd like to share with you their words of wisdom--perhaps you can pass it on to a friend in need:


JJSiii:You need to be in my television
Me: I want ot be in your television. As a picture-in-picture box on the lower-right corner.
JJSiii: YES, I WAS JUST THINKING THAT
I want a Sojourner-box.
Ew, that sounds wrong.
But you know what I mean.


KWalsh: you can do this
you're Hilary Swank and i'm clint eastwood
in my 'million dollar baby' scenario
go get 'em champ!
not with the tragic ending of course

With those words of encouragement, I feel strong. I feel solid. I'm ready for my close-up.
But, um, only on my left side, mmkay? That's my good side.