Down in the zero.

Anyone who has read Vachss’ series of novels about the character Burke will understand me when I say the following:

I am becoming the Mole.

I am going to be that grimy old person who spends all day creating weird stuff and hanging out with a crew of massive dogs. Occasionally my high-maintenance boyfriend will stop by to bitch at me about something, and I will stare at him blankly from behind dirt-smeared glasses until he shuts up or goes away. I will not speak to or visit anyone unless I absolutely have to.

When did I figure this out?

It happened in stages. A couple of months ago, I decided that I was going to stop visiting people. Yesterday, after another boring lecture from my mother instead of an actual conversation, I decided to stop using the phone. Today, after reading aggravating threads on various message boards, I’ve decided to curb my communications with people via the Web.

So, I’m basically going to limit my socializing to responding to comments on this blog and returning emails. Honestly, this is such a minor change from the way things were before that I highly doubt anyone will notice.

This experiment will only affect my social life, of course. Strolling into the office or library and announcing that you will no longer be communicating with the masses doesn’t go over too well.

Curse you, SOAPnet!

I have to stop watching One Life To Live.

It’s not because it’s a soap opera. I truly believe that quality soap operas can exist. Just because OLTL is a soap opera, that doesn’t make it bad. Of course, it is bad. I know it’s bad because I make up alternate versions of the episodes I watch in my head. Now, I don’t write fanfiction; I haven’t done that for years. Even so, entire scenes of dialogue run through my head. And not just dialogue! Blocking too!

Do you know how annoying that is? My brain is doing work that I will never get paid for! And I can’t make it stop unless I refuse to watch this show.

Overactive imaginations stop being fun when you’re an adult and you realize that you’re not getting one red cent for all the crap taking up space in your head where grocery lists and train schedules should be. I should have a kid so all this stuff will be worth something.


Let us talk about my awesome new acquisitions. First up, I got a pair of sexy sensible shoes. Do you know how hard it is to find sensible shoes that are sexy? Damn hard. I am so in love with these shoes that it should be a crime. They were on sale too. Forty-four bucks. Normally, there’s no way in hell that I would pay that much for shoes since I always wait until Macy’s has its 65 percent-off sale and then I load up. But I needed shoes. All I have are sneakers and boots. Sneakers aren’t sexy and boots aren’t comfortable.

Next up? I got a pair of headphones to replace the broken ones on my MP3 player. What’s with all the white appliances and electronics nowadays? Nothing I have matches because I never buy anything at once. I have a white computer and monitor and a black keyboard and speakers. It looks completely ridiculous. It bothers me since I am almost mental about things matching.

The third acquisition? Blade Runner on DVD. Yes! It’s the director’s cut though. I’m not happy about that. I heard that version is more violent than the original. I’m pretty much a gigantic baby when it comes to on-screen violence—except when it happens in a cartoon. For some reason I can gleefully watch some of the most brutal cartoons ever made and not be troubled in the least.

Last but not least? Mask Market. Whoooo! Andrew Vachss is cooler than Batman, people. Y’all just don’t know! I’m totally ripping through that book tomorrow.

I am still refusing to buy new clothes until I lose weight. I will wear the same damn outfit every day for the next year if I have to. I mean it!

Gawker Stalker.

My fake ad made it into Gawker! Whee!

Photoshop therapy.

Seeing this ad annoyed me. Making this ad (the first one) made me feel better. Seriously, Gwyneth Paltrow just gets on my damn nerves.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Look who finally figured out how to blog from the office!

Me! And it only took me a bazillion days. Well, not literally a bazillion. It’s going to reach a hundred degrees today in NYC and the brownouts have already begun. But as long as I have some semblance of air conditioning, I will remain happy. And so I am happy.

I’m so happy because I get to complain about the awful Target logos splashed all over the stairs at Penn Station. I don’t know why that burns me up, but it does. I swear, life is becoming more and more like a William Gibson novel each day. Pretty soon people will be renting out space on their skin for company logos. Oh wait! That’s already happening! Way to go, Golden Palace!

I fear for humanity a little more each day.

Anyway, you know the drill. I’m going to bombard you with what I’ve been filling my head with these past couple of days. As far as books go, I read Past Lies yesterday. Nice. It’s a totally freaky murder mystery from Oni Press. Click on the link and read a preview. I couldn’t put it down. Read it all in one shot. And I have The Losers and Transmetropolitan on my desk as I type. Sweet.

I tried to watch RAW last night and was so bored that I couldn’t even make it through thirty seconds of Mick Foley’s rambling. It’s sad what the WWE has devolved to.

I just realized that I have no Photoshop here and many of my complaints require visual aids. More later.

Additional random stuff.

I’ve seen way too much Prison Break. How do I know this? Because I immediately wondered if Lay was actually dead after reading about his unfortunately timed demise. And I also had to wonder if he died of natural causes. It’s way too easy to fake a death and even easier to cover up a murder.

Not that I would know anything about that.

Speaking of murder, I just have to mention how disgusted I am by the vicious and hateful actions perpetuated by the Avenues street gang. Hell, it’s bad enough that we’re beaten and terrorized for the supposedly horrific crime of daring to walk through suburban neighborhoods while being black. Now African Americans have to worry about being attacked because of their race while walking through crime-ridden hellholes too? Feh. Let them try that ethnic cleansing garbage in prison and see how far it gets them.

Anyway, onto more pleasant things. Like comics! What have I been reading lately? Well, I just finished Castle Waiting. What a charming book! And I have to restate my absolute love for Daredevil. Sadly, it’s the only Marvel book I’m still reading. Hopefully it doesn’t tie into any of that Civil War nonsense later on down the road. I’m also digging American Virgin. Man, can we talk about how awesome Becky Cloonan is? Her art is just so damn grimy. I love it. Oh, and I polished off a Top Ten graphic novel this week too. Hooray for Alan Moore! I’d love to hang out in his brain for a day. Last but not least, I finally got my hands on Livewires. I’m surprised I didn’t pick this up sooner given my irrational adoration for everything that Adam Warren puts out.

As for what I’m watching? Well, I have to admit that I don’t have sophisticated tastes when it comes to television viewing. I adore the Venture Bros. And I have a great deal of love for Samurai Champloo as well. And yes, I do admit that I watch bits and pieces of One Life To Live. Yes, I know it’s a soap opera! Basically, I fast forward through anything that doesn’t involve Renee Goldsberry or David Fumero, so I only watch about five minutes a day.

I’ve stopped watching wrestling because it has been so mind-numbingly bad lately. Not even the sheer awesome that is Finlay could bring me back. Besides, wrestlers are being slapped with fines and suspensions left and right for drug violations. First RVD and Sabu and now Orton? What’s the point in watching when half of the stories have to be dropped due to a missing participant? Bah.

Oh, I picked up the Samurai Jack Season 3 DVD. Awesome. Why the hell is Cartoon Network taking so long getting these DVDs out?

In other news, Five Below is the best store in the history of the universe. Don’t have one in your area? You are so deprived.

Garbage in. Garbage out.

I have lowbrow tastes. I don’t care. I like junk food, soda, wrestling, soap operas, cartoons, video games, Latin freestyle, disco, jeans, t-shirts, comics, gossip blogs, and romance novels. Show me the worst of American culture and I have probably eaten it, listened to it, read it, watched it, or worn it.

However, I think that my continued enjoyment of pretty much what is the worst that my culture has to offer might be having a bit of a negative effect on my psyche. I’ve been feeling rather sluggish and depressed lately. So, I’ve decided to put my brain and body on a diet for a week or two. The Body Diet starts tomorrow. The Brain Diet starts the day after tomorrow because there is no way that I am not going to download One Life To Live when David Fumero will be appearing without his shirt on. And that’s final.

The Body Diet should be easy. I simply swear off soda, cookies, candy, and ice cream. No big deal.

The Brain Diet is going to be a nightmare. No soap operas. No superhero comics. No cartoons. No wrestling. No UFC. No gossip blogs. No message boards prone to Internet drama. No raggedy t-shirts. I fully expect to be a basketcase by the second day. However, the following cheats will be allowed:

  • The Venture Bros.
  • Denim jeans
  • Daredevil
  • The Longest Journey: Dreamfall
  • Disco
  • Latin freestyle

I know a couple of days from now I will remember something that should have gone on the cheats list and I will scream in agony over being deprived of it. And I’ll be sure to complain about it here too.

Hairs to you.

If you knew how much I had to do, you’d wonder why I am sitting here typing up a journal entry when I could be getting important things done. It’s because some of the important things I have to do are rather unpleasant and nerve-racking, so I’d like to stall for time as long as possible. Plus, I’ve been neglecting my blog.

Sadly, I no longer have the Afro made of awesome because I have discovered that hair weaves are made of stuff that is decidedly not awesome. I will never get another weave again. Ever. It felt like I was wearing a hat that I couldn’t take off. I don’t know how other women can deal with such an uncomfortable and unpleasant hairstyle. So, I basically wasted two hundred dollars on a hairstyle that lasted me less than a week. I get upset just thinking about what a waste of money that was.

And yet now there is a very important question that needs to be asked. What am I going to do with my hair? Why does this question need to be asked? Because America is an utterly dysfunctional place that cannot accept naturally kinky black hair as-is, so something must be “done” to it in order for a black woman to be an acceptable member of American society. Luckily, I have more options than my mother had at my age. Unfortunately, I don’t like any of those options.

Option 1: After washing my hair, I blow dry it and then straighten my hair with a pressing comb. I don’t like this option because it takes me several hours to do my hair this way. Plus, the minute water touches my hair? My hairstyle is destroyed. On the plus side, it is a cheap hairstyle and rather cute. It costs nothing but time.

Option 2: I get dreadlocks. This is not an option, because there is no way I will get any hairstyle that requires me to shave my head when I no longer want to wear the hairstyle in question. Of course, this is also a really cheap style. I could do it myself for free.

Option 3: I get cornrows. This is not an option since I look really bad in this hairstyle. Sadly, cornrows are not for people with gigantic heads. Still, it is a very cheap and efficient hairstyle to have. It costs about 60 dollars. I only wish it made me look good.

Option 4: I get a relaxer. Not a good option. I’m not really enthused about putting sodium hydroxide or guanidine hydroxide on my head and leaving it there long enough for it to permanently break the cohesive disulfide bonds in my hair in order to loosen the hair’s kinky texture. Plus, once my hair starts to grow, I will have to continue to get relaxers to straighten the new kinky growth—or my hair will break off where the kinky growth stops because my relaxed hair is so weak in comparison.

Option 5: I get a really short Afro or buzz cut. Did I mention my big lion head? I look terrible with short hair. Not an option.

Option 6: I get box braids. Actually, there are two options here. One, I can spend three hundred dollars and sixteen hours in a beauty salon to get this hairstyle. Two, I can spend ten dollars and spend every night for about a week doing this hairstyle myself. It takes longer, but I keep two hundred and ninety dollars in my bank account.

To sum it all up, I am tired and angry and frustrated. And the next person who is not a black woman who feels the need to comment on a black woman’s hair without taking into account the obscene amount of exploitation we must endure, time we must expend, and money we must spend on our hair just to prevent ourselves from facing ridicule when we walk down the street will get cursed out.

Speaking of hair, I just watched the following documentary on the black hair care industry. Fascinating stuff!