D'oh! That's what you get...

when you surf the net instead of going back to work right away. So now I have to pass on this book meme courtesy of Bill.

So here's how it goes:

The Rules:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.

Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest, then tag three people.

The Result:

Our linguist says their moaning is a prayer for death, ours and their own.
Some try to starve themselves.
Lost three this morning leaped with crazy laughter to the waiting sharks, sang as they went under.

Courtesy of the poem, Middle Passage, all about slave ships and the slave trade, by Robert Hayden.
Honest to goodness, it was the nearest book, but then again, I am at the office and I only noticed the In Style Magazine nearby two seconds after I finished typing. Oh, wait, that doesn't count as a book, does it? Anyway, on you go! I hope yours is lighter than mine.

Okay, Brigitte, Lianne and Kay, I tag you!

You make me feel...

Also, I thought it would be a funny story to relate of one of the few times in my entire life I actually had a snappy comeback at the ready instead of three days later. I'm milking it for everything it's worth because I won't have another one for years, I know it.

Some random fellow in AC during the gig made some comment that I suppose was supposed to pass for a compliment on my good looks and whatnot. I said in my huskiest voice:

"Thanks, only one more operation before I'm all woman!"

Ah yes indeedy, those are the days it pays to get out of bed...

Apropos of nothing...

I forget where I heard it was bad form to post more than once in a day, but since you're all friends of mine, you know how tacky I am.

Anyway. I've been apartment hunting, and let me tell you, downtown apartments are expensive. But as long as it's cheaper than what I'm paying now, I will not complain. And since homelessness is not an option, I'm wrapping this mess up as of this week. No joke. Then and only then will I finally get around to phoning you all so that I can exploit you as movers. Heh.
Um, but it's not pure exploitation: I pay in lots of greasy, salty junk food! Or healthy food, if you prefer.

Anyway, I promise to have a housewarming party soon so that you can all compliment me on my lovely apartment and remark to yourselves how badly I've been ripped off.

But oh, to live alone! How fabulous! To finally be able to run around the apartment in my underwear! (well, I already do that, but now it won't be offensive to anybody!)

The Cross-Country Tour...

was a trip. Wow. Started on Thursday morning after a whopping three hours of sleep (but you know how those gigs mash up my sleep cycle, so that was inevitable) and we hit the road.

And promptly missed our exit. Took the 10 instead of the 15. But rather than go back, we bought a map and continued on until we crossed the border through Vermont.

Ah, Vermont. Lots of hills. It was all very green. And pretty. There were old white men in every passing car. I ate my first turkey sandwich and granola bar. Not long after, it was, "Bye Vermont! What's up, Massachusetts!"
(Incidentally, I said goodbye to every state we left and what's up t every new one we entered. If I got on Stephanie's nerves, she kindly didn't let on.)

Then Massachussetts. Ah, Massachusetts. What can I say about Massachusetts? Actually, nothing, now that I think of it. It was nice, and it was over quickly. I saw one elderly black man at our bathroom break, which I thought was cool. First one! I also saw this skinny dude come rolling up in the diner wearing black PVC chaps over his blue jeans. Ugh. Actually, I'll go back to my first statement: Massachusetts, nothing much to see.

Then we rolled up in Connecticut. We stopped in New Haven to get gas (but only for the car, sadly, as Stephanie wanted to forgo a pit stop at Taco Bell or at Popeye's Fried Chicken) and I saw Yale University. Which was cool. I also saw many more black people, which I thought was a-ok. Of course, I also saw a huge economic disparity between the races, which was decidedly not. Hmph. But since I became friends with Stephanie, I've stopped wantonly abusing Americans at large, so I'll hold to that. Anyway, it's not like we're any better up here. Brown-skinned folks get the short end just as much. If you're Black or Native, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm thinking about my Filipina friend who's a nanny, as well. She's got a rough deal too.

Driving through New York and New Jersey took forever, because that's where we got connected with the I-95 and had to cross through the Bronx and then the New Jersey Turnpike. At rush hour. I will not attempt to conceal the fact that after two hours crawling through traffic and really needing to use the bathroom, that some profanity snuck out from time to time. The three hours we'd slept weighed very heavily on us as we crawled through that traffic. It also meant that there was no way we'd be able to crash in Richmond, Virginia that night, which really sucked. As for New York state and Jersey, just...ew. I have just four words for you: Oil and Petrochemical refineries.

Moving on: Next was Pennsylvania. We drove by Philadelphia, and Popeye's chicken was calling out to me strongly (you may remember from a previous post that it was in Philly where I first discovered the glories of Popeye's.) Lots of hills. It was green. It was over quickly. We listened to parliament and tore the roof off the sucka.

Boistered by a promise from Stephanie that we would get some Popeye's and beers once we made it to Baltimore, we continued driving to Maryland. We were really, really, tired. The sun had gone down on a 14-hour driving day.

I'll give you the next part of the saga tomorrow for two reasons: one, I should get back to work, and two, maybe it'll seem funnier to me by then. The more that time goes by, the more I can see the humour in things.

On the road again...

Yes indeedy, I'm back for two days from Atlantic City and a killer heatwave. My cocoa-caramel tan is beginning to fade as are all the wicked bug bites I sustained while there.

And guess what else? I still have to move! Crap. My landlords are not amenable to having me stay at my present apartment without a roommate, so now I've got to pull off a miraculous move in a matter of weeks. Like, two of them.

I'm going to trust to hope and serendipity and any other benevolent force in the universe to hook me up with a decent situation. Please send all of your good and positive vibes my way, and to those of you who pray, could you make out a few of those to the Big Guy on my behalf? Much appreciated.

Well, next stop, Hotlanta...

Lots of maniacal laughing

and not a lot of work done yet.
But I have reasons! Just not good ones.

(There also happens to be absolutely no one else in the office yet today. I'm sure I'll eventually exert myself, probably for the sake of appearances and living up to my lovely job title in public when/if someone comes in today. There you go. I'm a horrible person. Or just dangerously close to my vacation time, whatever.)

Check this out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QeTuQDJDqdM&feature=Views&page=4&t=m&f=b

I was telling Lianne about this one and you know, maybe if there had been hijinks like this at PSL, I might have stayed in the corporate world. Maybe I can bring a little of this dementia into Black Theatre Workshop. Hm. Who should I pick on first?
Probably not my boss (although, to quote Dave Chappelle: That would be the ballinest sh*t EVA!) and probably not the Marketing Director, because she works out.
The General Manager is thin and cute and sweet, and although she looks like I could break her in two by sitting on her, I bet she's secretly a ninja--you've got to watch out for the wiry ones.
I can't pick on my Program Coordinator because she's the one who makes me look professional and competent and I need her on my side. (She's also wiry and cute and probably a ninja.)
I guess that leaves the temp from the the local university. Yeah... Tyranny without fear of reprisal. Kicking little puppies and pigeons. That sounds about my speed.

And getting back to Lianne, she was telling me about these TBS commercials promoting Lord of the Rings when she came to town for Gigi's wedding. Darlings, I've got tears in my eyes and a tummy cramp from laughing. The first two are my favourite, but the third deserves an honorable mention, I think.

White Horse:

http://tbs.com/broadband/videoplayer/0,,70640,00.html

Secret Lovers:

http://tbs.com/broadband/videoplayer/0,,70636,00.html

It Sucks to be Frodo:

http://tbs.com/broadband/videoplayer/0,,70621,00.html

I'm going to show this to EVERYBODY over the next two weeks for sure. This will be worse than Nunchaku Man.

The truth of the matter is..

that there are so many worries pressing on my mind that I can't even begin to let one of them out. I'm afraid that if I do, the rest will pour out and I'll get swamped. I feel as though if I can only keep the lid on them, it'll buy me time to find a way to manage them singly. So sadly, in the meantime, you get silly stories about cute dancer boys.

God, I wish I could still afford therapy. I feel as though I'm living on credit. And if you know anything about my credit card, you know that's not good.

Aloha!

I'm back in town for a few days, desperately trying to cudgel my brain into some kind of activity for the sake of work. And not being entirely successful about it.

I'm completely knackered, I just never can sleep well away from home, and combined with the late nights of gigging, I'm in a fog. But anyway, all's well with me.
What's up with you?

I met the cast of Aladdin: The Musical over the weekend in Niagara Falls. Lovely people who by chance caught our show on Saturday. Most of the band went to see their show the next day (I was wiped out and not feeling altogether well, more's the pity) and later that night the cast came back to see us perform again. Loads of fun. Great people, so fun to hang around with. I'm almost always anti-social between sets, but I made an exception for them. And let me tell you, you never saw a more good-looking group of people congregated in one place. And Lord have mercy, could they ever dance! When I was singing Disco Inferno, they spontaneously erupted into this killer choreography together on the dance floor, and I felt like a movie star. You know, like in Goldmember when Beyoncé's workin' it on the dance floor and somehow the whole club is moving harmoniously together? Yeah, that was me, sadly, minus the afro and fabulous gold dress, but with the big legs and booty intact. It was all good.

I tell you, one lovely young man in particular busted a move on the dance floor that made me forget my lyrics in the middle of my song. Yes, it was embarrassing, but on the other hand, I defy any red-blooded woman to keep her wits about her in such circumstances.

Well, I guess that will be all for now, next week I'll be in Atlantic City again, with more tales to regale you with.
Love and kisses, baybees!

I'm not dead yet...

Just busy.

Work's been good, although I could be more productive. I've been braiding my hair and Stephanie's hair, for the past two weeks. First I unbraided and rebraided my hair, and then I did hers. Let me tell you, my biceps have been aching since then. And now I'm in Niagara Falls singing at the casino again. (Although not this very second.) Good clean fun. More details to come later.

Loving you!

Today was a scary day.

Can I tell you? So much drama.
I'm actually having a bit of trouble typing because my hands are starting to shake again.

As you may already know, we're four days into the summer intensive theatre program over here at Youthworks. Today, during the lunch break, as I was returning to the building from the nearby food court, four of my students (all girls aged 10-15) were walking about thirty feet ahead of me. They passed by a man, who started calling out after them, and then proceeded to follow them. The girls were so great, they didn't freeze up, or dawdle or engage him in conversation, they kept their heads--they took one look at him and bolted together towards the building. They outstripped him, and so he began to shout obscenities after them and proceeded to hump the nearest tree and shout the things he'd like to do to them.

I felt this burst of adrenaline: fear and more predominantly anger. It was as though there was a five second delay between my reason and my reactions. All I felt was: Protect! Stop him! Fight! I know I wasn't reasonable because the man was huge, he had a good sixty pounds and a half foot over me. It was just this sense that he was a coward or mean spirited to try to pick on little kids. There was just something about the image that enraged me, to see this big white man harassing little black girls.

I ran up to him and started hollering at him: You shut up! Stay away from my kids! What's the matter with you? Don't you ever come anywhere near here again! You're not a human being! Go away right now!
That's when I realised that he was mentally disturbed or intoxicated, because he wasn't making any sense at all in what he was saying to me. Suffice to say, most of it doesn't bear repeating, and I've already begun to block it out of my memory. I can't handle it.

But he backed down, and so I ran after my students and accompanied them up the elevator to the office. They told me then that they recognized him, because security guards at the food court had already ejected him from the building. (I'm not sure if that happened that same day, or earlier in the week, they weren't clear about that.) And the youngest girl told me that something similar had happened to her this year as she was going home from school. It breaks my heart, the poor thing. But they were safe, unhurt, and didn't seem to be in any way traumatised; basically, they were no more fazed by the situation than it warranted. They laughed it off, and stored it upfor their annals as an anecdote to tell their friends.

Five minutes later, he came back upstairs into the office looking for them. All of the students were there having lunch, so they called out that he had come back and was headed for the emergency exit. All I could think was that if I didn't do something right then, they'd never feel safe, and I ran for my cell phone and chased him down the stairs, dialling 911 at the same time. I was telling the operator the situation when halfway down the stairs, he heard me speaking, turned back and came at me. Just as he pushed me, two of my colleagues were already running downstairs and caught up with us. Luckily, one of my colleagues is a big burly black guy, and the other is a little wiry girl with the spirit of a pit bull when she's roused. So while I'm talking to 911 and the police, telling them what's happening, he's shouting at us, and keeps making lunges at me. We herded him down the stairs and out into the street. Again, none of his talk bears repeating, and in any case, he was hardly making much sense.

Once outside, he threatened to come back to the building and cut off my foot and set the building on fire. Since the police were so slow in coming, I stayed on the cell with the operator and we kept watch over him. It was really unsettling because he wasn't going away, he kept weaving back and coming towards us, but it was a two steps forward, one step back kind of thing. He meandered around the neighbourhood, and even tried to break into peoples' homes. Not to get away I think, because he always remained in view.

But more than that, I just couldn't let him out of my sight. What if the police couldn't find him? What if he came back? Finally, the police came, we identified him, they apprehended him, and they promised to come back and to take our statements in ten to fifteen minutes.

As they were loading the guy into the back of the cruiser, he started shouting again and looking back over at me. Once he was safely inside the cruiser, I started thinking: What am I going to tell all the parents? How could I tell them what happened? How could I have let this happen? Why did I confront him? It was my fault that he came back after us and followed us to the building. What if something had happened to the kids? Are they even safe with me as a teacher? Maybe if I'd have left him alone, he would have just gone away.

When the police left, we started walking back to the building, and for the first time, it registered: I felt his hands pushing me in the chest again, and I cracked. All of the fear rolled over me, washing down my face and into my stomach and back up to the top of my head and then my feet and hands got so cold. That was so scary. What if I had shown even a little bit of weakness? What if Bruno and Naima hadn't come down the stairs at exactly that moment? Maybe things would have been worse. It started to get loud in my ears, and I had to push it out, push it away.

Thank God for coping mechanisms, and that mine tends towards activity, to productivity. I still had kids and colleagues to look after. (Well, not so much the latter, but I needed some purpose to cling to.) Everything became all about keeping the workshop going, sheltering the kids from the incident, keeping things going as normally as possible. Thankfully another one of my colleagues had remained upstairs with the students, and so I sent Bruno to go upstairs to them, reassure the students and start up the classes right away.

There was no way I was going back into the classroom until I had gotten myself sufficiently calmed down. There was absolutely no need to be a hero or to prideful, as though the workshop couldn't go on without me. I just didn't want to scare the kids, I didn't want it to become all about me, you know? I went upstairs, got some photo I.D. and planned the course of action to take for the next three hours with my boss.

Then I went back downstairs to wait for the police and give my statement to them. It was weird, all of a sudden, it seemed like every man that passed by weighed 250 pounds and was wearing a green shirt. No, seriously, you'd think there was convention or something, like there was a homing signal beckoning every man fitting that description in the city of Montreal to come and pass by the building where I was waiting.

Another police officer pulled up to take my statement. He invited me into the cruiser to write down all the information while he waited for another officer to come and bring him more forms. And it crossed my mind that for the first time, I was going to step into a police cruiser. And I was for some reason embarassed and ashamed to have to do so, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. All I could think was: how does this look, a black woman stepping into a police car? (I sat in the front seat.)

Thank God he had air conditioniting, because I kept having hot flashes. Anyway, we all gave our statements, I went upstairs to call the girls' parents and make sure they got picked up from the workshop. It's amazing what you can do when you have to, to be calm and reassuring because someone else needs you to be, when all you want to do is go curl up in a ball, bawl, and throw up (in no particular order). I mean, the girls were fine, very calm and unfazed at the moment, but what if it hit them later on tonight, or tomorrow? So they needed to be prepared to talk it through with the kids. I felt horrible: all of their parents were worried about their kids, and of course I felt guilty about the whole thing. And then we had to call all of the parents and let them know what happened.

Not a fun thing for a gal who hates and avoids confrontations and such. I'm the proverbial ostrich, normally. But I learned today that that's only the case it it concerns just me. I don't know how you parents do it. That terror, that protective instinct...it's just so overwhelming and overpowering. And you live with that latent current running thorugh your veins 24/7. I'm more convinced than ever that I could never have kids of my own, because I'll always have that running inside of me now. I never want to have to feel that burst again--agh, I don't know what I feel. I'm grateful for that instinct to have kicked in, but that power is a scary thing, that feeling that you would charge like a bull and destroy someone. I want it out of my body.

Anyway, although the experience was highly unpleasant, there are so many providential things to consider. First of all, I had a great staff on hand to hold down the fort. I was done teaching my sections for the day and had other workshop leaders who could take over for me while I was dealing with all the legal, administrative, and emotional stuff, and neither the kids nor the schedule were disrupted.

Second of all, that man was obviously sick and in need of help--crying out for it, I think, otherwise, why didn't he just run away as fast as he could? And because he assaulted me and issued death threats, the police had sufficient grounds to book him, and I had sufficient grounds to press criminal charges and request a restraining order so that the kids can be safe. Because of the criminal charges, they were able to pick him up and legally procure for him a psychiatric evaluation to see if he was competent to stand trial. One way or another, he'll get the help he needs. The policeman called me back and told me that the man is in custody and is going to appear in court tomorrow morning.

Third, I'm grateful that the situation kicked in protective instincts and the adrenaline to see things through to the end, and fairly quickly. There's something to experience in facing down an aggressor that is liberating--no, restorative. When you face down a threat and challenge it, push through your fear to push back, at least you feel as though you've at least done something, if not your best. I feel as though I've had a personal victory, that I will not be a victim of fear and intimidation. I'm not helpless. I didn't just let someone run roughshod over me, I didn't roll over, curl up, and cower. The survival instinct tells you that you have the right to be here, to be alive, that you have worth.

When I think about all the ways things could have gone so badly, I'm grateful that things happened the way that they did. Everything was contained. Everyone is safe. We did do the right thing. I have enough work on my plate today and over the next couple of weeks to keep me busy and functioning so that I don't collapse, until I have time to properly process it. I'm not hurt. Well, nothing that won't heal.
I think a sleeping pill is in order tonight. And junk food. Don't you?

Just wondering...

What's your favourite website nowadays?

I wish for one hundred...

• Voice coaching sessions with Patsy Rodenburg.
• Witty comebacks in my arsenal to choose from whenever someone is rude to me.
• Kisses on the forehead from Viggo Mortensen whenever I'm feeling bad.
• Free months of rent.
• Prince songs on CD. (that's a big cd!)
• "Do Overs" redeemable for the past, present and future.
• Students in the YouthWorks program this year.
• DVDs in my home collection (or movie certificates, or theatre tickets-s'all good).
• Schools fighting over me to offer me a scholarship to do my Masters in Theatre Performance.
• Gift certificates for Popeye's Fried Chicken (spicy, of course!).
• Plane tickets to fly anywhere in the world.
• Honest men and women in the government (I know, don't hold my breath, right?).
• Visits from the Take Home Chef. (Have you seen this guy? He really can cook.)
• Posts on this blog.
• Lottery tickets.
• Sessions with a personal trainer. (To counteract the fried chicken consumption of course.)
• Solid gold toilets.
• Stage and film acting credits on my résumé.
• Days of paid vacation.

One down, eighteen more to go...


(c'mon, you didn't think I'd list one hundred wishes, did you? that would just be greedy.)

Those were the days my friend...

There are not many things that I enjoy reminiscing about when I think back to the days of my adolescence. Being a bit overweight, a little geeky at times, not running with the popular crowd (I ran with the artsy kids) and basically mediocre at all sports...Never quite as snazzy on the fashion tip as my peers, it was irksome to be sure. I'm of mixed race and never could get the black swagger thing down pat, I seemed too "white" for black people to really want to claim me as one of their own. Mind you, I was dark skinned enough to get trailed by store security personnel and to be told, "Nigger, why don't you go back on your boat to Africa?" As my friend Quincy says, how can I go back to somewhere I've never been? Anyway.

Would that I had grown up in Montreal. When I finally managed to get popular enough to be elected to student council, I realized that it stopped being a badge of acceptance. Being different in Montreal, on the other hand, would have been a fine place to live, and the pursuit of popularity would not have been so important, I think. But then again, maybe not. Teenagers are notoriously stupid about stuff like that.

However, I did manage to make some awesome friends in Toronto during my teen years. I had a blast doing theatre and chilling with my friends. I had found early on in life the one thing I did better than anything else (although I wasn't aware of it at the time). I had really cool acting gigs that gave me the opportunity to travel to neat places. I had great grades without having to try very hard. But there was something that stands apart in the singularly wonderful things of my adolescence. One something that takes me back and makes that whole hellish period all alright.

Video games.

How many fabulous hours of hosing around did I spend in front of the Nintendo, playing all the Mario Bros. Games that were available, Metroid, Mike Tyson's Punch Out, Donkey Kong, Tetris (which would brand itself on my brain for hours after I stopped playing)...Whether playing alone or with friends, it was always all good. I never got mad at the Nintendo. Not even when my sister threw it at me during a particularly nasty altercation and it gave me a bruise did my love for the Nintendo ever abate.

And so, I spent hours playing Nintendo with Eileen yesterday and this morning, and I felt young again. But the good kind of Young. Not the young and socially stupid kind of Young, not even the tireless and physically sound kind of Young (I am suffering some backache and tension from pressing on the controller buttons with all my might), but the kind of Young when you really could forget all your pressing problems in the face of a brightly coloured virtual world and all of your mistakes are do-overs, even when you die you get to come back to life, and winning is the best thing in the world (but not the only thing in the world) but not so much that you ever tire of finding new challenges to beat. (Incidentally, Eileen's Korean name is Ye-Young. Coincidence? I think not.)

I feel good. I feel young. But I've hosed around long enough. It's time to get back to work.
It's time to grow up.

For now.

Back in the Saddle Again

Howdy pardners!

Back at work, attempting to write my first grant application. So far, so good. I wish I was making speedier progress, but oh well. It's exciting to have this job, I've got to tell you. I feel like I'm actually doing somethng meaningful and worthwhile. It's a cool thing to bring theatre training to those who couldn't normally afford it. Now if I can only convince the people with money to pay for it and help them chilluns out, it shall be golden.

But I've got to tell you, I feel pretty optimistic. Sure I don't make a lot of money yet, but who was it that said: "Do what you love and the money will come"?

Come on, money!

Also, I'm presently enjoying the amazing benefits of vegan eating. Whoa! I forgot how good it was. I love the summer for that. Lots of rain this summer so far (in fact, it's looking ominously gray outside this minute) but there's been lots of sunshine too. (Ooh! Spot the metaphor for my life!)

Summertime...and the produce is tasty,
Veggies are crunchy, and the fruit is so ripe...
Well I may not be rich,
But I'm still damn good lookin'

---Okay, enough of that. I'm getting back to work.
Big bisous for all of you,
T.

Anyway

But then again...

I may have been suffering from the heat so much because of the mass quantities of food I consumed over the weekend. I watched silly movies like Dodgeball and Galaxy Quest and 13 Going on 30 with Bill and it was jokes. I had every intention of eating healthy food with her you know. And if Baileys, Pepsi, pizza, chicken wings and ice cream did happen to pass my lips, I have a little comfort in recalling that there were also some carrot and celery sticks that got in there somehow. And wowee! the barbecued jerk chicken and potato salad at Dad's the next day! I also made Great Big Pitchers of Mojitos.*mmm...drool...*

However, I am perfectly willing to own that my discomfort may have been the result of some indigestion. You can't eat as cleanly as I did all week and then blast your body with that kind of salt, fat, wheat, alcohol, and dairy and expect to get away scot free. But what a way to go!

(By the way Bill, I mentioned Steve the Pirate to Solonor who affectionatly sends the usual "Hello Butthead" greeting.)

And little Jasmine slept over at our place last night. Stephanie is looking after her for Jenny to give the poor woman a badly needed night out. It's pretty hilarious. Jazzy has taken over the whole entire apartment. She's EVERYWHERE, man. She's like a puppy, running all over the apartment. But she's so sweet natured and affectionate and clever. It's so funny: Stephanie will say something to Jasmine, who will look back at her in puzzlement, and and then turn to me for the translation in French. Because Jenny always speaks to Jazzy in French and Jasmine's dad speaks English, but she doesn't see him that often so her understanding of English has not kept apace.

Man, looking at Jasmine this morning, I recalled a time when I was actually that small.
I was a fetus.

It's too darn hot!

I love the warm weather of summer! Nor, really. I seldom complain about the heat.

For instance I'll be more likely to say "It's so hot," rather than "It's too hot," but last night was one of those nights. I couldn't bloody well sleep even with the fan on me full blast. It was blazing, Baby.

I confess to harbouring some resentment to wards my landlords for being so slow to re-install the blinking air-conditioner. I think I resent more the fact that to get anything done you have to play the helpless female act:

"It's just so hot that I can't sleep and the air conditioner is so big and heavy!"

Then come the magic words to seal the deal:

"...And I just don't know what to do!"

*grumblestupidboyheadedsnotfairgrumblegrowlsnarl!*

(Mind you, you've got to play it cool; you've got to not lay it on too thick. Cocking your head to one side, twirling a lock of hair around your finger with the requisite knock-kneed stance that points one foot inward is okay, or puppy-dog eyes barely brimming over with just a hint of a pout is okay, but you can't work them all together at once. That's just overkill.)

It's not the heat that gets you, but the humidity which, as any black woman will tell you, is murder for the hair. (The avoidance of a humidity-induced hair casualty is one of the benefits of braids, I gotta tell ya.)

Oh! And...

when you stop being mad at me: Abe, talk to me, Baby!

Wakey, Wakey!

Aloha Darlings.

I figuratively only woke up about three hours ago. I've been in a bit of a haze for the last little while, deeply unmotivated to work and in general kind of fuzzy-headed about my responsibilities. I looked at the mountain of work and preparation ahead for all of the work-related projects I have initiated and then combined with some unresolved personal business concerns and felt those compelling stirrings of "ostrich-itis." You know that feeling when you get overwhelmed and want to run away and hide? Yeah. Had that going on in a big way. But dammit all, when you're a grown-up, you just can't do that. Crap. (Unless it's to your Mommy's house after you sign divorce papers.)

Anyhoo, the good news is, I'm all industrious again! Granted, I've got lots to do, and it's a wee bit daunting, but it won't go away until I attack it, so here I go. (except for this brief interlude to tell you all about it instead of actually working, but anyway)

I think that it comes of making a few resolutions that have relieved the weight off of my mind somewhat. Some weights I've exchanged for others, but those other ones are more bearable, if you know what I mean.

For example, realizing that there is a way to repair some of the relationship damage between me and some of my estranged friends that I incurred during the course of the icky past two years and to decide upon a manageable course by which I can tackle it.

It also comes of deciding that come hell or high water, I'm just going to stay right where I am in my present apartment and wait until I can get a decent roommate or until I can get a second job. Whichever comes first. I can't afford to move, pay a first and last month's rent somewhere and furnish an apartment (X got all the furniture). Sure, my landlords are a wee bit OCD, but they sure do take good care of the property. And they'll force me to be really responsible. No late payment of rent or else they'll toss my black booty out to the curb. And it's amazing how frugal and disciplined I can be when it's that or disaster.

Of course this means that I will be stupid poor instead of the broke fool that I am at present, but as long as I can pay for a roof over my head, metropass, electricity, the gym, and food (which I can, although the food thing won't be plentiful or varied for awhile), I'm good to go. This means that my hair will be crazy. I'm talking about nothing but braids. No pretty perm. The beauty regimen will simplify a lot. Like basically be all about me being clean and not having flaky skin.

So if you're feeling like you'd like to invite me over for dinners and whatnot, let me tell you right now I'm prepared to swallow my pride and your food with equal alacrity.
Social life that consists of me actually "going out" will come when aforementioned roommate or second job comes along. And really, how long could that be? (I know, I know, famous last words, blah blah blah) I'm young, talented, and cute. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me! (Does anyone remember where that quote comes from? 'Cause I don't.)

I'm disappointed that I can't afford the therapy anymore at present, because it was so good for me, but since I was not in any danger of going postal, just of repeating my disastrous dating patterns--okay, okay, I know there are other disastrous patterns too, but first thing's first, and that thing is survival. The goodies will come later.

It's all a relief to just make that decision and commit to it because quite frankly, it's a loverly apartment, and I don't know that I'll never find a better one at such short notice. And I'll be able to have sleepovers again! (But not for you, fellas.) And for the first time in my life, I'm going to live alone! Which is pretty darn exciting, I've got to say.

Sadly, I'll have to take some gigs out of town with the casino band, to make ends meet. I've got two of them scheduled this summer. A weekend in July and a week in August. It's easy work, although at times demoralizing, but I really need the money. (Wow, why did I feel like I whore when I said that?)

And of course, I've been able to catch up with some friends that I haven't spent time with in awhile. And I'm going to spend some time with more of them soon. (Bill, I'm talking 'bout you, baby!) AND Father's Day is coming up, and 'though I don't say it nearly often enough, I deeply dig my Daddy, yo. He is where it's at. He's the Champion. He's my Champion. Yeah! So I can hardly wait to go over and hang out with him. One of the beauties of Father's Day with my Dad is that he too understands the inextricable link of the good times, the beloved people and the sweet, sweet goodness of FOOD. I have three words for you:

Bar. Bee. Cue.

Spending time with the people I love really soothes my soul, you know? Missing the people I love is a weight, let me tell ya. And seeing them lifts the load.

So let's get lifted, Baby! (heh heh) You know who you are. Call me and let's chill.
Okay, I'm getting back to work.

I knew it couldn't last long...

*grumble!wail!snif!choke!sob!grr!*

It's one of those days. The particulars are not necessary (I'm actually too embarassed to relate them), but suffice to say that I'm feeling lower than "the pus that infects the crud that feeds on pond scum." (remember that movie?)

I'm living up to my profile description "jerky but well-meaning friend" in a deep way right about now.

I don't really have the heart to write anything more today. Maybe when the fits of the cringes and deep mortification pass I'll be able to say more.

Till then..

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy....

I have been told of late by one of my dear readers that my tone in these blogs has been somewhat dark. That it sounds like I'm practically suicidal. That I've been whinging, in short.

Well, Darlings, I certainly don't want to be a downer, but neither do I want to be fake and superficial. I'd like y'all to have the straight dope from me, but I don't want to scare you off from hanging out with me for fear that I'll slit my wrists at the dinner table.

So allow me to share a few happy tidbits from my life:

Stephanie and I have commenced a 7-day detox to cleanse the system. The first two days are lemon water, herbal tea, and vegetable broth, but the following five days are all about lots of fruits, veggies, and rice. Yummy! It's so funny; what seemed a hardship at first (that of it being such a restrained diet) we now eagerly anticipate, and the diet seems above all reproach. It also helps that we hit the Jean-Talon Market on the weekend and that in my weakened and fatigued state, I have nevertheless been inspired to cook as I haven't been in a long time. There is tasty food aplenty awaiting us tomorrow when we get off the liquid part of the fast. A sumptuous vegetable curry, a hearty, savoury mung bean soup, fresh chilled gazpacho, homemade baba ghanoush and hummus with crudites, fress fruit salad, rice fusilli puttanesca! All fresh ingredients, herbs and whatnot. Yummm.....

You'd think the sight of all that food would discourage me while I've been drinking nothing but lemon water and veggie broth, but no! It's been nothing but pleasurable industry serving to take my mind off of being hungry. And a source of immense pride because I can say without conceit that I am a Dyno-mite cook.

I will be having a happy (healthy) binge-fest with with my beloved Bill on Saturday. I couldn't resist. Lord knows, there's something about her diabolical little smirk that just warms my heart to no end.

And off I go to band bractice, gotta show tomorrow evening for the Festival Rhythmes Du Monde. Somehow we ended up as the headliners for two years in a row. God bless Eva, she is a super champion of my talent and a much appreciated butt-kicker.

Ciao for now! I can't promise to keep the cheery thing going for long, because you know how hormones can be! (Actually, I guess you fellas would only know by proxy: sisters, girlfriends or whateva. Anyway.)

S'up, yo.

First of all, I'd like to welcome all the new visitors to the blog! As long as you don't need me to be diligent about phoning and hanging out with you to feel the friendly love vibe I'm sending y'all, we'll get along fine! Huzzah!

Anyhoo.
It's the first time I've been the office all week, and I'm not particularly proud of that. I am a lousy (awesome?) boss this week. Sure, I had work-related obligations on Monday that kept me out of the office, but what have I done since then?
Well, I'll tell you.
A whole lot of nothing.
Yeah, I said it.

Well truth be told, I ate a lot and watched videos too. That's something.
But not on the Sofa of Doom.
Oh no, not this time. It was on the Armchair of Disaster!
It's a little less comfortable for sleeping, you know, 'cause your legs dangle over the arms and it cuts off your circulation and you get a crick in the neck. So, although it's a nice place to visit at first, it's nowhere you wanna live.
But all in all, it's a good choice if you only want to take a short trip on the Debauchery Train.
Actually, to do myself justice, I did manage some light cooking and housework too, so I wouldn't be such a total slug and freeloader.
Sigh.

How did I fall off of the Wagon of Productivity, you ask? It's all about me and Steph being in mourning over her imminent departure. Instead of crying and getting depressed, we ate baba ghanouj, crackers, old-fasioned donuts and drank white wine while watching Def Poetry Jam. She provided all of the edible and drinkable goodies, I provided the entertainment. It was all about taking some time out for the kind of therapy that does a body good and doesn't cost $120 an hour. (Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

When you're waiting on a paycheck, there are not a lot of fun times to be had. Yeah, okay! I have no equity and live from paycheck to paycheck. I also haven't filed my taxes yet. What's more, I also can belch like a trucker on command. I do have immature and flaky dimensions to me. It's all part of my charm. Yeah, that's it! And on top of it, those people who look at me and feel superior because of it, well, shoot, I've just boosted their self-esteem, so that's sort of like a good deed, isn't it? Maybe I'm storing up brownie points in heaven!

The living situation is nowhere near resolution, I really wish I could just do the ostrich thing and hope the problem goes away. But of course, if I do that, I'll have gone beyond crazy black lady to crazy homeless black lady, and how does that uplift the race, I ask you? Sigh. Gotta make some more phone calls and start praying for a miracle, because deep down, I do believe that things have a way of working themselves out.

Wellllllp...
I've run out of things to say. Except this. I saw the latest version of The Producers yesterday, and although it was entertaining and I liked the new songs, nothing touches the original Mel Blanks movie. That may be because it's Zero Mostel and Gene-frickin-Wilder, it may be because I watched it with Bill and because we ate lots of Bar-B-Barn ribs and chicken (Okay, I ate lots of ribs and chicken, most of them, in fact. I'm surprised poor Bill didn't pull back a stump. You know, I'm occasionally shocked and appalled at the mass quantities of food I am capable of consuming in one sitting, but I'm getting off the point.) and drank champagne.

But then again, all of our movie fests took place during my year of post-surgery convalescence. That's when I learned to love the lazy, Baby. Lots of molasses cookies and vanilla soy milk, video games, movies, trips to the Jean-Talon market and other such fun have melted into a stream of con-fun-ness.

Okay, now I'm really finished talking. For now.

La Da Dee Dowdy Dow, La Da Dee Dowdy Dow...

She's just like you and me-eeee...

But she's homeless, she's homeless!

And she stands there, singin' for monayyyy...

Can you believe this mess? Yes indeedy, I too am about to be like the homeless lady in the Crystal Waters song.
Sigh.

I've got two months to work out a new living situation.
Y'all know I'm a starving artist, albeit with a bitchin' job title, so I can't afford stupid crazy rent. Help a sister out, start spreading the word see if anyone you know is looking for a roommate. My American friends need not partake in the roommate hunt, thanks anyway.

If you haven't spoken to my beloved roommate yet, then I'm sorry to be the one breaking the news, if she hasn't told you yet. But don't worry, she'll be getting around to you soon. I guess you can play dumb until she tells you, I dunno.

Can you believe it? Stephanie has to move back to Chicago!
Crap!
Who will be my pally for late-night laughfests and bacon pizza binges! Who else understands my love of the Isley Brothers and the fabulousness of Prince? What will I do without her crazy infectious laugh? There are so many reasons that I'm miserable about this move that I don't have the heart to get into it all, although I'm trying to be unselfish and be happy for her and keep a positive spin on the whole situation.
Truth be told, I'd rather stay at home and sulk about it for a couple of days.

Instead, I'll make the most of these remaining two months (because I don't think I can afford the rent of that apartment by myself) and make some good memories with her.

So we'll be taking Salsa classes together! I went out last weekend with her and another girlfriend and we had a blast! What a nice vibe! I like the kind of crowd that just wants to dance. There is infinitely less slimyness afoot than in the typical club scene. And it's good exercise to boot. But first I have to learn how to do it well. Hence the classes. I've always wanted to be able to salsa.

Anyways, I should stop hosing around and get back to work.

The postmortem

Mr. Abe the Babe has raised a good point. I never told y'all how the movie was. Well, suffice to say, the whole experience was an adventure. I bought a ticket for the first matinee at 12:30, and arrived nice and early, which was a good thing. The place was packed and the excitement in the room was palpable. I got a gorgeous seat, dead center, and sitting between some truly handsome fellas.

A Tamara Sandwich!

Anyway, you know how those commercials sort of play on a loop until it's time for the previews? Well, at 12:35, the same three lame commercials were playing on a loop. At about 12:50, they were still playing and folks were getting het up. It was the worst version of Groundhog Day ever. So at 12:55, an employee comes in and says, the projector is broken and they're trying to fix it, so we'll have to wait until it's fixed and they don't know how long it'll take. Anyone who wants to change theatres and see the next show at 1:10 can switch theatres. Everyone except for six other people and myself rushed the doors. I literally had only reached down to get my purse and when I looked up, three-quarters of the room were at the door. I knew I would never get a seat, and certainly, not such a perfect one as I had, bookended with beefcake.

Anyhoo.

Fifteen minutes later, the same dude comes in and says to the six of us, well, the other room is totally full, and they won't get the projector fixed that day, so we can see the 1:30 show upstairs and get a free movie voucher to boot.

I sprinted like a madwoman, hoping against all hope to get a decent seat, and there it was, waiting for me. Of course, there weren't beautiful men flanking me, but it was an entertaining place to be nonetheless. Mr. Macho on my right was so crying when certain people died. Uh huh.
The older lady on my left flinched a lot at the loud noises.

Oh, right, the movie.

Well, it was good, it was an X-Men flick, I went in with no expectations so I had loads of fun. Neat effects, Halle Berry was a lot less useless in this one as Storm, pity it took them so long to figure out how important a chacracter she is. But well, truth be told, it's not like Halle's a particularly great actress or anything. Fine as all get-out, but well shoot, some of my students could whomp her butt onscreen. In true Storm form, she does spend a fair bit of time getting her keester kicked, but she pulls through in the end with an awesome payback. I liked her new hairdo. They mention the new 'do in the script, I think she made the director put it in. Jean Grey has a new hairdo, and she doesn't have to have anybody remark upon it. Hmph. Oscar winners.

I won't spoil the end, but I'll say this: although there will apparently be no more X-Men films, they're setting you up for a buttload of spinoffs. Also: Vinnie Jones is the BOMB, I've loved him since forever (okay, since Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels), and I just wish he'd come to his senses and ask me out on a date.

Also, you should wait until the end of the credits, because there's nifty new twist.

Well, this is me, signing off. Meaningful content is surely on the way, but now I've gotta boogie and go meet my girl G for lunch.
Cheers!

Rowr.

I'm going to see X-Men 3 in less than an hour.

It doesn't matter that I'm virtually broke, or that the movie is reputed to be crap.
Nosirree, none of that matters. And why?

Is it because I'm such a die-hard fan of the X-Men?

Is it because a superhero movie has never been a piece of exceptional cinema, and I therefore have no expectations whatever?

The answer, darling dears is right below:




Sigh...

When the moooon...is in the 7th howwwwse....

Ah do declare....

I hope those sparks I'm seeing aren't the beginnings of a migraine. I'm certain it's not a psychodelic drug trip (since those are so, like, last Tuesday). No, but seriously. This doesn't look good for the good guys.

Is it a subconscious desire to avoid work that is manifesting itself? Do I have Munchausen Syndrome?

Oh, actually, now that I've actually looked it up, it would appear that a major factor is the desire for attention and sympathy. Well, I've never used physical ailments to garner sympathy, I just talk about my failed marriage to get that!

MWAH! HAH! HAH!

BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HAWWW!

Hyuk! Hyuk! Heeheeheeheehoohoohoohoohahaha!

WAH-ha! Wha-ha! Ha. Ha.

Hee hee hee hee.
woo.

(Okay, seriously though, you know I'm kidding about all that, right?)

Now I've gone and hurt myself with that little laughing burst. I hope it was worth it and you're all entertained. Now I need to go lie down.

Chillin' like a villain

Yes indeedy Dahlings, that's how it's been goin' down these days.

Been hanging out with Mom for the past couple of days, and it's been deeply wicked. I've been eating, sleeping, reading, eating and braiding my hair. Lot of eating, lot of braiding. Wait till y'all see me. I may be puffy, but I look good.

Under normal circumstances, braiding would have been replaced by shopping, but the sad reality is that I am once again po' and since I won't be able to afford trips to the hair dresser for at least another month, I figured it would be worth it to invest some time in a 'do that will last for a month, be lovely and time-saving in the mornings.
(Well, not that I actuallly get to work before noon since I'm completely useless in the morning, but you get my drift.)

Because if you know black women's hair, darlings (and I do) it is involved. Can I get a witness? Whether your hair is permed or you're rocking a natural or doin' the dreadlocks thing, it's a lot of work. Brigitte has neatly avoided the pitfalls of time-consuming hair by rocking a really short 'fro, but then again, she's petite and feminine, so it works. If you've got a big 'ol pumpkin head such as myself, a short 'fro looks like a short stop on the road to Transamerica, if you get my drift. Anyway.

And let me tell you, hanging out with Mom and Fabian has given me tons more material for the dictionary. I've gotta write it all down before I forget.

I actually feel a wee bit guilty because I haven't gotten much work done and I really did intend to get some stuff done. What can I say? It's the hair. In fact, I am altogether too ashamed to admit how many hours of work have gone into this coif'.
But doggone it, I look good.
Heh heh.

And how am I doing lately, you may ask? Ahhh....
It's worth mentioning that Mom is proving to be, as usual, a wonderful balm for all that ails me when life gets lousy. Not everybody gets a supafly mom like mine, as we all know. Supafly moms aren't perfect, but they are so, well...supafly, that even their flaws are a part of their charm. It shows you how to bear up under your own with grace and fabulosity.
Yeah, I'm so chill that I wonder if I'll be able to bring it back home with me. I guess we'll all find out.

What's your flavour?

**blissful sigh**

Do I ever like y'all a LOT.
I should put you in a jar and pickle you.
I could also salt you, smoke you, or candy you, according to your personal tastes.

All I know is that you must be preserved.

*m'wah!*

All Points Bulletin...

Calling all friends:

Today, I signed the papers (yes, those papers) and I'm a bit of a mess.

We Shall Overcome...

Ah yes, dahlings, soon, will come a day that I get to bed at a decent hour, when the madness of work slows down a wee bit (not because of me being reasonable or anything, y'all know I'm a workaholic, but when my system just crashes) and you know what that means, don't you?

JUNK FOOD EXTRAVAGANZA
ON THE SOFA OF DOOM!

Yeeeah, baybee...I've decided to just accept that this is my pattern for now. Why fight it?

So, sign up now to join in my Festival of Sloth and Debauchery next week. Bring yourself and some DVD's and let the good times roll! I'm serious! My whatless hours begin on Tuesday, May 9th at whenever I roll out of bed and onto the sofa, and basically will last until Friday. Saturday is the beginning of grocery day and housecleaning day, and organizing my files day and other responsible type things. I'm taking appointments right now. Y'all know my cell number, call it! Drop me a line in comments! Send me an email! But do it before next Monday night when I finish the final strike of the set for our super-D-duper Youthworks show (May 6th and 7th)
or else I may not be awake to take your call. I'm just sayin'

I've begun a swear jar last week because my potty mouth got out of hand and when I got up to 10 dollas, I said to myself:

"Self, this is getting expensive, You obviously need to stop stressing and learn how to surrender. You can't control everything, what will be will be, do what you can, and let the rest take care of itself."

And then I respond (oh yes, we've gotten to that point, I'm in deep trouble, I have conversations with myself now, I'll have to bring it up with my therapist. Crap.) :

"Shut the *&$#&*@^ up, you. I'm working here."

My Trini Dictionary (soon to become The Definitive TD)

When Eric at work showed me this today, I felt such a powerful longing for Mummy and Fabian that my heart ached. There may be only four or five of these I haven't heard in my lifetime.

Hyeah nuh, if allyuh have any additions for dis here dictionary, lemme know, nah?
(hee hee!)

Ah: Substitute for "I"
Ah-Ah: Expression denoting surprise, indignation. Said quickly or very slowly for effect.
Ah I Ah Eh Able: Give me patience. I can't keep up with you. You're too much.
Ah Never See More: An exclamation of surprise, anger, bewilderment. (I've never seen anything like that)
Alla-All-Yuh: Every last one of you.
All Kinda Ting: All kinds of things. Everything imaginable, including the proverbal kitchen sink.
All (Every) Man Jack: Everyone without exception
Allyuh: All of you people
Atall: Not at all
Ax: Ask
Aye-yah-yie: An expression of anticipation or pain, etc.

Bacchanal: Scandal, heavy quarrelling, big party, confusion
Back chat: Insolent response, especially from a child to an adult
Bad eye(cut-eye): A look of anger, especially when looking from the corner of the eye
Bad talk: To malign or slander
Ba-John: A bully or a really tough customer
Bamsee (Bam-bam): The rear end, what you sit on
Bam-se Lambe: Rather attractive bamsee
Bawl Dong De Place: To cry excessively. To be in a state of grief and to display it unrestrained.
Bawlin': To cry, yell or howl
Beat Yuh Wit A Wo'k Stick: An expression used about someone who is a work-a-holic. One who works constantly.
BeeWee: British West Indian Airways (BWIA--some say this is actually an acronym for: But Will It Arrive?), the national airline of Trinidad
Behin' God Back: A very distance place. Remotest part of the country.
Bim An' Bam: Like two peas in a pod. Very much alike.
Bol'face: A pushy person, unreasonably demanding
Break Away: When one "cuts loose"
Broughtupsy: Showing that a person was properly brought up, decorum
Buh wha de jail (or ass) is dis? An expression denoting annoyance, surprise, incredulity
Buh wait nah: But wait a minute

Cheups(Stcheups): A noise made by sucking your teeth
Chinkee: Very tiny portions of anything
Coki-eye: Cross-eyed
Commesse: Confusion associated with arguments, gossip and slander
Cuff: Hitting someone or something with a clenched fist
Cut-ass: A beating, physical punishment
Cyah: Can't

Da is yu? Is that you?
Dan-dan: Any sharp looking outfit
Dat good for yuh: Serves you right
Doh: Don't
Dotish: Silly, stupid, foolish and dumb
Dougla: Mixture of East Indians and African parentage
Drevait(dree-vay): Wayward person who likes to "knock about"
Duppie: Ghost, Spirit
Dutty: Dirty

Eh: What did you say?
Eh-eh: No, no way, oh no
Eh-heh: Oh really? I understand. Yes
En'less: Plenty
Ent? Is that not so?
Expectin a flood / Plantin rice: when one's pants are too short above the ankles

Fall out: To stop speaking with someone or to terminate a friendship
Faddah: Father
Fete: a party
Flim: Film
Founkie: Foul-smelling, stink odour
’Fraid: Afraid
Fresh Water Yankee: A Trini who goes to America and comes back acting and talking Yankee (Originally someone acting Yankee without even going overseas, or crossing salt water).
Fuh so: So much, Plenty of anything

Gallery: To show off
Gallivanting: Out and about
God blame a mule: An expression of exasperation
Goin'orf: Someone who appears to be going out of their mind
Gun talk: Fighting words, to threaten verbally
Gyul: Girl

Harden: Disobedient
Hyeah nuh: Listen
Hototo: A very large amount of anything
Hut: Hurt

Ice Water! An expression of triumph
I Come Out To Play: I aim to have a good time.
I eh payin' tax fuh mih mout': I could say anything I want
In ting: To be involved in current activity
In Trut': In truth and in fact.
Is De Wus: It's the worst. The pits. No good; very disappointing.
Is Me An' You Today: The show-down between us takes place now. I shall be observing you all day.
Is so? Is that so?
Is You To Ketch: You will be the one left holding the bag. You will be outsmarted. You're the one in trouble now

Jam: A big noisy party
Jeez-an-ages (Jeez-an-fiyah): Used for any reason where an outburst is appropriate
Jingay: A hex or spell. To try to confuse an opponent with Mumbo-jumbo.
Jokey / Jokey-Fied: An amusing person or incident.
Jook: To stab at anything
Jumbie: Ghost
Jump-up: Dance to calyso at Carvnival
Jus' Dey: Just there. Very near. Not far away.
Jus'now: In a little while
Jus'so? Just like that?
Jus'so: Out of the blue

Ketch: Catch
Kicksin': Fooling around, having fun, being a source of amusement.
Klim: Any brand of powdered milk

Lef dat: Leave that
Leh: Let
Leh go: Let go
Leh we: Let us
Lick dong: To accidentally hit someone or something
Licks: A beating, physical punishment
Like t'ing: To be somewhat mischievous
Lil'bit: In small portions
Lime: When a small group of people engage in a sometimes pre-arranged activity
Long eye: A person who is envious of the possessions of others
Look nuh! An expression of annoyance

Maco: A person who minds other people's business; To spy on
Macocious: A person having the trait of a maco
Maga: Very thin, skinny
Mamaguy: To make fun of
Mama Yo! Expression denoting shock and surprise
Matter Fix: Everything is well organized
Mih han' slip: An expression used when too much of an ingredient is used
Mook: A man who is a pushover for his woman
Mooma: Mother
Mosquito drumstick: Very thin legs
Mudda: Mother
Mout'er: A boaster
Much up: To pamper, to butter up

Nah: No
Nastiness: An expression of disgust applied to a good-for-nothing person
Never see come see: Someone who has recently been exposed to something new and
who overdoes it to ridiculous proportions
Ning ning: Tired eyes
Now fuh now: Instantly
Nowherian: A person who does not have any fixed place of abode

Obzokee: Awkward in appearance, anything bent or twisted out of shape
Oh geed! An expression used when an offensive smell arises,
Oh gosh!-
Oh gorm man!-
Oh shimps man!- These are all expressions denoting shock, surprise, indignation
Oh ho? Is that so?
Ol' talk: Idle chatter, social chit-chat
One set ah: A lot of anything
One time: Immediately
Own-way: Stubborn person

Pallet: Frozen lolly
Papa yo! Exclamation of surprise
Party Done: Go home
Pesh: Money
Pissin' tail: A person of no class or importance
Planasse: To hit someone continuously with the flat part of a cutlass
Playin' social: Someone who pretends to be of a higher social strata than they are
Pong: Pound
Po-po: Very small child, baby
Pouhpse: To expel gas from your nether regions
Prim-prim: Disgustingly proper and formal
Provision: Term used for any or all root vegetables

Quenk: An irritating person
Qualeybe: Withered, dried up

Raff: To grab suddenly
Ragadang: Broken down
Ram-cram: Packed to capacity
Rumfle: Ruffled or wrinkled

Saga boy/girl: Flashy dresser, dandy
Salop: A disgusting person.
Sapat: Chunky wooden clog with a canvas or discarded tyre upper.
Shades: Sunglasses
Shif' yuh carcass: Move over, get going
Shub: Shove, move or cast aside
Shut: Shirt
Simidimi: A lot of small ritualistic movements. Titivate.
Skinnin' yuh teet': Grinning
Skin up yuh nose: To turn up one's nose at anything
Sof' Man/Sofy: Effeminate man. Spineless.
Sometimeish: Moody
So-So T'ank You An' Yuhself: I am all right thank you, and how are you.
Stchupid: Stupid
Stchupidee: A foolish person
Strims: Shrimps
Surprise De Water: To finally have a bath after a long time.
Sweet Drink: Aerated beverage. Pop. Soda.
Sweetie: Any confectionary
Swell up yuh face: To look angry, to pout

Tabanca: The forlorn feeling one gets when a love affair is over
Tabanca, Tarange, Foofooroo: Advancing stages of Tabanca
Tanty: Aunt
Tellyphone slap: When you get cuffed in the head so hard, your mouth and ears ring
Tight: Intoxicated, drunk, stoned
T'ing: Thing
Titivay: To waste time or stir up trouble
To Besides: Besides which
Too bad: Used at the end of a statement to indicate very or plenty
Too-tool-bay: A confused state, in a daze, also head over heels in love
Tot tots: Female breasts

Vampin': An offensive smell
Vaps: To suddenly behave excitedly or in a strange manner
Vex: Angry

Warahoun: A quarrelsome annoying person
Wajang: A roudy, uncouth person
Walk wit' yuh two han' swingin: To arrive empty handed especially when contributions are expected
Warap: A very weak mixture
Well: Used in a statement to emphasize a point
Well yes! An expression of disbelief
Whappen? What's the matter with you?
Wha-happenin' dey? What's happening
Whatless: Worthless
Whey: Where
Whey yuh? Where are you?
Whey yuh say? What did you say
Wine: To dance to soca calypso, to rotate the waist and hips

Yampee: Mucus, found in the corner of the eye
You an' all? You too?
You so: People like you
Yuh faddah head: An expression of annoyance
Yuh faddah is a glassmaker? You are blocking my view
Yuh foot hot: You can't keep still, always going somewhere
Yuh look fuh dat: It's your own fault
Yuh makin' joke! You can't be serious!
You still alive? Long time no see
You 'tink it easy? Can you believe it?

Zopse: The horizontal mambo
Zug-up: A rough and uneven cutting of anything

They should charge me rent...

...the amount of time I spend in this place. I've never made it out of here before 1 am since last Wednesday.
(Except for Easter Sunday. That was the bomb. I went to my parents house for Easter dinner, drank wine, ate stupid amounts of tasty food and watched Chris Rock. Dynomite.)

I confess that I actually stayed so late once two days ago, that I didn't feel like it was safe to leave the building, plus I didn't trust myself to wake up in time and drag my sorry behind out of my house in time for my meeting seven hours later, so I slept on the couch.

So ghetto. The office couches here are not very long, and I'm very tall, so you can imagine, I made quite a pitiful/comical sight when Eric, Tricia, and Adele came in that morning.

Actually, it's really quite late again, and I'm trying to make up my mind what to do. Last time I was here this late, I stayed. But one, I don't want to spend money buying washcloths and fresh undergarments at the Dollar Store--I'd really rather have a shower and a change of clothes at home. Two, I want my bed, even if I only stay in it for three hours. Three, and most importantly, I can't take the constant mockery from my co-workers that followed the last sleepover.

That settles it, yet another cab ride. Blast. I so can't afford this. But oh, I'm gonna.

"Wha...Huh?" A Stream of Consciousness Post

Growr. Stupid busy. Life is interesting, but no time to talk about it. Not even sure it's particularly interesting. It's all Youthworks related. Learning lots, but should sleep more, need to get the heck out of this office. Craving KFC. Philly Cheese Steaks. Swedish Berries. (Argh, next year, I want a manservant for my birthday. Y'all can start saving up now.) What happened to my social life? Vacation would be so awesome, like Cancun. Frozen drinks with little umbrellas. I am the colour of very weak tea. I haven't seen the inside of a gym in over a month. We are not terribly sexy and fabulous nowadays. Or very coherent much.

Thank You, Thank you...
I'm here all week!
(sigh.)

The Artful Dodger

I initially mis-typed the title, so that it read the Artful Didger.
Hm, that would've raised some interesting questions about the post that was to follow.
Many possibilities came to mind, and to my credit, 99% of them were PG-rated.
Did you have the same knee-jerk response to attempt to anticipate what on earth a title like that would be a prelude to?
C'mon, you know you did. Didger?
(heh heh, get it? Didger/Didja? ok, it's not a very funny joke, and I promise I did not plan this. It's just the screwy way my brain works sometimes.)

Anyway, I feel like the Artful Dodger today because I'm taking a wee bit of a break from work over here at BTW. Being a little delinquent, surfin' the Net a bit while waiting for my brain to recharge.

If you're interested to see what I'm working on, check this action out! Come and support theatre, come and support our youth! Shoot, come out and support me!
Yeah, this is a golden opportunity for those of you who missed Blacks Don't Bowl and feel guilty about it to make it up to me. Just joking. Sort of. Only if it it hurts your feelings or something. If not then, I'm not playin'.

(There was a cute picture too, but check it out, I'm sick of trying to format it for this blog and get it right. Just picture in your mind a whole mess of cute black kids arm in arm):

YouthWorks: Questioning Our Identity

YOUTHWORKS END OF YEAR PRESENTATIONS

AT THE BLACK THEATRE WORKSHOP SPACE

Press release
For immediate release

Montreal, April 10, 2006 – Led by Montreal’s own Tamara Brown, a group of fine artists have teamed up to prepare YouthWorks’ talented students for their performances scheduled for May 6 and 7 in the Black Theatre Workshop Space.

YouthWorks is inviting you to come along on a journey through identity in three pieces:

• Scenes from Shakin’ the Mess Outta Misery.
  A girl comes of age in Southern USA. This charming play by Shay Youngblood evokes a girl’s loving relationship with a mother who abandoned her and the amazing women who raised her.
  
• Death of the Bourgeois Dream.
  In his new creation, Jason Selman looks at the tribulations of four young adults. Two things bring them together: their passion for music and their struggle with identity in a sea of Black stereotypes.
  
• What If.
  In a world where the news is full of stories of murder and crime, it is can be hard to tell who the victims are. Written by the cast, this play tells the heart-wrenching story of three women who are caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A Note From the Program Director:
When we first approached this year’s participants, we asked them to speak about the issues most prevalent in their hearts and minds right now. The overwhelming consensus addressed the many ways that they struggle to identify and reflect their true self-image to themselves and to a society that pressures them to fit into a mold that chafes, a reality presented by the media that doesn’t resonate for them. From the outpouring of their hearts, in this, our 35th season at Black Theatre Workshop, I am reminded of the ‘Reflec’tions’ of Rachel Van Fossen in our Season Program: ‘…good theatre can be said to hold a mirror up to society, and so to reflect us as human beings back to ourselves.’
-Tamara Brown

Information: Naïma Phillips
Administrative Coordinator
Tel.: 932 -1104 ext. 226
Fax: 932-6311
youthworks@blacktheatreworkshop.ca

YouthWorks:
Questioning Our Identity
Black Theatre Workshop
3680 Jeanne-Mance, Suite 460
Metro Place-des-Arts
May 6 and 7, 2006
3pm, 5pm and 7pm
Reservations:
(514) 932-1104 ext. 226
Free admission

DIG IT!!!!

So near, and yet so far...

I am referring of course to vacation time. Even though the play closes tonight, which should ostensibly free up some time in my schedule, bringing the total number of jobs down to one, somehow this will not be the case. Oh well. It appears that the protracted pastry and DVD binges I had allocated to fill in those gaps in my schedule will have to be cancelled until further notice. Damn.

Grr...oh so sleepy. I haven't fully bounced back from birthday night celebrations, or caught up on the missed sleep. Seeing my family and friends yesterday come out and support the play was like a shot of adrenaline to my system, I was happy, and buoyant and loving life! Today, not so much.
I crashed with Mom and Fabian and the crew at their hotel last night, and the pull-out bed mattress had a great big depression in the center of it. Anne and I kept rolling into the middle of the bed all night. It would be funny if I wasn't so tired now.

Bon. Enough whining. Today, I say goodbye to a play that has challenged me, personally and professionally, working with a group of people I love and admire and am going to miss terribly. Pretty frickin gorgeous first season out of school, I think. I am grateful. I have an awesome job!

Anyway, I'm thinking that I'm just going to stay 31 for the next 8 years or so. I've got good genetics, surely I can pull it off.

Gonna party like it's mah birthday!

All up in da club.... Come to Kandy Bar on St. Laurent below Rachel tomorrow night around 10:30 and celebrate mah b-day with me. Yessiree, in spite of trials and tribulations,

Miss Thang

is emerging triumphant and as fabulous as I wanna be! Y'all gots to show me some love, and I ain't too proud to beg for it! D'you wanna see the fabulous pics Neil took of me? They're not finished yet, but I think he made me look gooooood....






Cute huh?
C'mon you can tell me, I won't get a swelled head, I promise!
Big bisous to all of you, I love y'all so much! I have amazing friends and family, and I hug you and kiss you *m'wah!*

And in case you wanted to come see the show, it's SOLD OUT! 'Cause we are da BOMB! Your best bet now is to try to gatecrash. I shouldn't feel so gleeful, but I do! We even added an extra matinee, which sold out a day later! H'ray!

Got me workin' workin' day and night...

Oooo-woooo. And that's basically what's going on. It was my brother Christopher's birthday this week. That exceedingly tall young man is now 17 years old. I remember there was a day I could actually lift him. Them days is over, y'all. Anyway.

Life is alright, although I get anxious about work sometimes, I still love what I'm doing with my life. Things went super well with Alan on Monday (but that's to be expected, I think. It only gets really challenging and difficult once you settle into the sessions, I suspect.) I feel light.

Hey, are you people coming to see the play?

Black Theatre Workshop and the MAI are proud to present the world premiere of

BLACKS DON'T BOWL

by Vadney Haynes
directed Nigel Shawn Williams

Don’t miss this hilarious but serious look at the clash between
identity and ghetto-fab image

The play runs March 23-April 9

For tickets, call Black Theatre Workshop 932-1104 ext 225
(DISCOUNTED TICKETS FOR GROUPS AND STUDENTS. CALL FOR DETAILS)

DON'T MISS THIS PLAY!

Feel the burn...

Well, after some hard exercise and getting back on track with reasonable eating habits (basically, laying off the steady diet of pastries and pizza) the Incredible Human Sponge has done it again! I'm back to normal (such as it is) although my muscles ache terribly from switching my training regimen. Owee. No, really. Lactic acid, yo.

Things are going well with me these days, keeping busy (so what else is new?) with the show and Youthworks...hey, did I tell you that I got a promotion? Yes, boys and girls, this here be the new Program Director of Youthworks! Hee haw! Go, me! I'll be singing with Shane Phillips at Jello Bar on Friday night, which should be fun. I'm also hoping to record a demo this weekend with Nick Carpenter and the good folks from Johnny Canuck and the Last Burlesque they're submitting for a musical theatre competition in New York.

Big bisous for all of you!

The return of Shamu, the killer whale...

Crap.

Suffice to say, I never did make it back to the gym last week. No, I watched movies, and slept and ate loads of sticky sweet baked goods. And I swelled up like a water balloon. Scandalous.
I did, however, manage to clean my room and my apartment (h'ray!) and I also managed to... do not much else. It may be the tremendous weight of the pizza and fries I inhaled that weighed me down.

And in case you're wondering if I'm just overexaggerrating about the killer whale thing, I'm not. My body is like a sponge, with a comic book hero capacity to absorb and release water. The bloat is of radioactive proportions. I'm educated enough to know that I didn't put on fifteen pounds of fat in a week. Yes, I did say fifteen pounds. I look like Fat Albert. Hey, hey heyyyy!!!

(Yes, I know this is somewhat symptomatic of my history with that scary binge-purge thing, and I swear I'm dealing with these self-destructive behaviours. Appointment with Alan is next Monday. Which will be timely since two days before I'll be having that dreaded talk with the ex. *shudder!* Pray for me, 'cause I'm scared, yo. I'm constantly surprised at how long it is taking for these wounds to heal.)

So had my first session back at the gym this morning. Owee. And I mean, owee.

So, a little more administrative-type stuff for Youthworks for the next 30 mins. then I have to go home and grab my contracts to fax to Equity today (how whatless am I?) and then another mini-session at the gym, then hanging out with Gillianne. 'Cause Mamma needs to learn from a disciplined person how to manage her finances. 'Cause she's a wee bit of a disaster.

Anyhoo, tomorrow is a special day! Do you know why? Because tomorrow is the first day back to rehearsals for the Blacks Don't Bowl crew! Working on a project where I share the narrative load! I get to have real playing partners for each scene! Whee! And you should check out the new, revamped Black Theatre Workshop home page. It's got music and everything!

Well, I gotta get on back to work. Love y'all! Have an excellent beautiful, sunny day!

Just came up for air to say...

that I've been pretty doggone useless for days now and would be loving it if I could just shake off the guilt for being pretty much inert since Monday. I've had immense difficult prying myself off the sofa at all. perhaps a pulley system would be the thing I need to haul myself off the tar pit that is my sofa... Today is the first day I've actually managed to leave my house for anything other than DVD rentals or munchies. But now, though junk food is grossing me out, I'm too lazy to want to have to get anything else. Where is that manservant of mine, Julio?

So, the reason I'm so lazy and exhausted is because I've finally finished the School Tour for Afrika Solo. I'm sad and thrilled all at the same time. I loved being with Janet all these weeks. There were many joys and many frustrations as well, but I learned so much about myself as an actor. And I really needed to just get that experience under my belt and start trusting that I have been given a gift. And honeys, I plan to work it till I cain't work it no mo'!

To tell the truth, I've been a teensy bit in mourning since the tour ended. The beautiful thing about theatre is that it is a living entity, and so it's exciting and ephemeral and very precious. The sad thing is that it has a very definite life span, and when it's gone, it's gone, and you can't get it back. It dies. Not like film, which you can preserve. So, after the weekend, the final closing of the tour, I cried a little for its death, we struck the set, and then it was time for the wake. With three beautiful men and ME! (So two of them were gay, and the other has a devastatingly pretty girlfriend, but it doesn't matter, because) I was macking out at the Cock 'N Bull with a Guinness in one hand, and a slice of pizza in the other, and nothing but good looking men all around the table. Yes indeedy, I sure was living right that afternoon.

(I babysat my friends baby that evening, who has such a haunting and persistent cry that after I got home, I dreamt about it later on that night. Twice. Dreaming about that little donut's cry woke me out of a dead sleep that night.)

I really will clean my room. And all the other stuff I said I'd do this week. I really will. I will work out this week and try not to blow up to the size of a baby killer whale. I really will try. Oh right, and I have to deal with ACTRA this week. Crap.
(But at least I may manage to actually get paid for that webcast thingy, which would be good. And the only reason I haven't been paid is because I'm whatless.)
And schedule some head shots. Double crap. More money spent, because to do that, I'll need to get my makeup done. Crap.

I thought it would be easier to get all kinds of stuff accomplished this week, since I actually have time, but the second I slowed down to get a little rest, it's like that's all my body wants to do now, is catch up on missed sleep. I walk around feeling drunk most of the time. Maybe that's the other reason why I don't want to leave the house. I don't need people to think I'm some kind of welfare mom, crack-ho refugee from the movie Jungle Fever. 'Cause my hair is crazy too, nowadays.

Well actually, I had to work today, which was a strong motivator for making me leave my house. Thank God for weaves. Got a little bit of cash in hand, whee-ha! So now I'm plotting my first return to the hairdresser since October. (Lord, that sounds frightening and whatless, doesn't it?) I also need to put some cash aside for rent. Which would be good, (can I get an amen, Stephanie?) and also so I can scare up enough money to pay for a therapy session.

He's cutting me a deal, is good 'ol Alan, so it's not going to be as expensive as I anticipated, but it's still kind of daunting. Nevertheless, the mild panic attack I suffered at the prospect of actually leaving the house today indicates to me that professional help is a must. Yes, we've got ourselves some self-esteem issues a-plenty. Funny, I thought I was manging pretty well, up until I made the decision recently that I have to stop sweeping all my stuff under the rug and putting off the dealing with all those little neuroses that make me so charming, so complicated, so attractive, yet so repellant, and so utterly infuriating to others. It's even been said once that living with me can make one suicidal. (Okay, it was my ex, and so perhaps he's not exactly objective about the whole thing.)

Anyhoo here I am, stayin' alive, and whether I want to or not, unable to avoid getting back on track. I still have some work to do, getting off-book before rehearsals for Blacks Don't Bowl next week, and I need to do my directing homework for all of the Youthworks projects to come in May. I'm in the midst of rehearsals and there is just so much work to cover and not enough time.
You know, I think I'm going to go and find some place where I can chill with a beverage and begin to organize my thoughts with regard to working all that mess out. Or I might go to bed asap and try to start fresh tomorrow.

Hm. Beverage and work, or home and sleep. Tough call.

The Home Stretch

Oh yes...

Two more days to go, and the school tour is done and done! Playing for an audience that ranges from 6 to 24 years old has been quite the interesting challenge! I'm happy and sad, that it's almost over, but truth be told, I'm mostly happy because I'm in desperate need of sleep. Having next week off will be amazing! I'm sure that I'll veg a fair bit, but I'll be able to do so many things I've put off for ages, like clean my room, get my hair done, get a massage, do my filing and other miscellaneous administrative-type stuff that I've put off forever, see my family, see my friends, see my therapist...

Hm. Actually, if I'm not careful, next week will end up being as jam-packed as usual. Good Lord, I'm a compulsive schedule-filler.

Oh, and my cell phone got stolen this week, so I've lost all my phone numbers. Call me and give me your phone numbers again, please! (I'll even try to call at a decent hour!)

Loving you!

Wh...wha???

I woke up this morning a full four pounds heavier than I was over the weekend. Sources say that I went on a mad chocolate and potato chip binge, but I'm not buying it until I see photgraphic proof, or until it shows up in People Magazine. Then you know it's fact.

This week was an awesome one for the tour. Some truly warm and receptive audiences. Wow. It made me really grateful that I have this job. What a way to make a living. Meaninful theatre that stimulates discourse and love and deep thought. We were out in Prevost yesterday at Batshaw, and it was an extravaganza. Once a year, they have a special to-do for Black History Month. We set up, and then sat down to lunch with all the students before doing the show. And the food? Whoo-ee! It was a festival! Somebody's mama was all up in there cooking, because there were accra, stewed beef, fried chicken, jerk chicken, spicy jamaican patties, peas and rice, ackee and saltfish, fried cod, plantain, fried dumpling, and chicken roti. I ate some of everything. Oh, yes I did, and I don't even feel bad about it, because it was the BOMB!!!! That lady knows how to throw down in the kitchen.

(any of you wiseguys in the background suggesting that that's where all the weight crept on can put a sock in it, thank you. I defy Ghandhi or anyone else with superhuman self-control to resist the magic of that feast. Even the little teeny-bopper girls couldn't front: they loaded up their plates too.)

After the show, they had an awards ceremony and gave us plaques and flowers to thank us for being there, and then this young man came up and did some spoken word poetry that he had written about Black History Month. I can't lie: I cried, because it was so beautiful, and so painful. (perhaps the upcoming visit of my Aunt Flo has something to do with it too, but that's the only reason why I couldn't hold it in, because I would've felt the same way, no matter what time of the month I heard it)

Okay, that's it for now. I loves ya, lots and lots. Call me or something, okay?

Now's Your Chance!

To come see me in AFRIKA SOLO!

Yes indeedy, on Saturday, February 25th, at 2pm, you can come to the MAI (3680 Jeanne Mance) to Black Theatre Workshop (4th floor) and check out the show! It's only $5, and the seating is limited, so reserve your tickets today!

(514) 932-1104 xt. 226, ask for Craig.

Cheers!

It's a celebration, Snitches!

Heh heh.

Actually, I'm just fired up about this week. It's full of theatre and all the good stuff I like so much. last night, I was with the Youthworks girls, working on their performance piece that'll be going up in May. It's so awesome.

However, tonight, I've got an interview on CKUT to plug the school tour. H'ray. I'm a little nervous about that. I'm never as articulate as I want to be under pressure. Oh well.

Tonight I'm going to see Criminals in Love at the DB Clarke. Some friends of mine are in it, and the play is actually a pretty funny one, although a little absurd. George F. Walker. I don't know if I like his work or not. Anyway, does it matter?

Tomorrow, I'm going to see Ghislaine's dance show at Tangeante. I'm fired up! I haven't seen her dance in over a year!

Saturday, I'm taking Angie to see Johnny Canuck. Whee-ha! Sunday, it's closing night for the burlesque, and I plan to rock out my costume. Can't wait!

Ended up with the day off, so now, I can have a leisurely session at the gym, and then actually get some reports filed for Youthworks, I've fallen a bit behind. It'll be nice to feel like I'm earning all of my paychecks. I do earn them (believe me!), it's just that sometimes I think I could be giving more and better than I am at present.

One week down...

Had my first Monday morning gig on the tour. Ouch. I mean that literally. My back is spasming something awful today. I need to look into getting a massage or something.
Although I don't feel that I gave my personal best today, I can say that it was nonetheless a competent performance on my part. I'm a lucky woman, I have a great job. So, next stop, the gym for a light workout and a long relaxing stretching session in the sauna. Hopefully, I'll feel better in the morning...for my 7a.m. call!
(No, we're less than thrilled about that.)

If any of you like burlesque, you've got to see Johnny Canuck and the Last Burlesque at Mainline theatre, St. Laurent Blvd. near Duluth. Last Friday was the best!

Saturday was Angie's sweet sixteen party. 'Twas cute. I fried up a mountain of plantain.

Anyhow, I'm off into the sunset again. Love and kisses, Beautiful People!

As I was saying...

Last night (now two nights ago) I watched my new DVD, Pride and Predjudice, with Colin Firth! (sigh...he's so purty.)

H'ray, second day of the tour was a smashing success yet again. Cool kids, and a cool show, and a cool crew. And a cool actress, apparently. This show is the most amazing way to begin my professional career. A light workload (comparatively, I mean, normally there are twice as many schools scheduled on the tour than we have this year), lots of love and appreciation from the audiences, and work that's just hard enough to prepare me sufficiently for future gigs and to teach me to be really grateful when the time comes for me to actually get a dressing room. Ah, what a thought.

Tonight, I'm helping out at Johnny Canuck and the Last Burlesque. Hee hee! It's a hilarious and saucy show! Good clean(?) fun for all, eye candy for everyone! Good looking and funny people. It's a winner. I'm going to be the cute usherette at the bar who gets chased around by the Marx Brothers at Intermission. Haw haw!

Black History Month

It's on, Baby!

So, I did my first shows of the tour and they went really well, better than I expected from a high school audience. I had fun. I'm learning all the time. But I am knackered. In new and deep ways I have never yet felt. I was going to go to the Luther Vandross tribute tonight at the Lion D'Or, but fergit that, I have two shows again tomorrow, and my call is 8 am. No, Downtown Miz Brown will be sleeping tonight.

And in the end, I shopped a little bit yesterday. Got two cds (Alicia Keys live and John Legend--so talented, the pair of them. I'm in Rn'B heaven right now.) and a proper discman. Stephanie has now put me on a month-long shopping fast. No shopping for anything, except groceries for at least a month. But it was worth it. Of course she's right. I still have stuff like student loans and whatnot to take care of. And it would be nice to make it to April with some kind of savings put aside. (Check back later to see if this happens.)

So, I'm teaching tonight and then, beddie-bye.
Ooh, but I must say this! Last