“We have a lack of black friends problem in this country.”

Blacktress is watching her favorite Sunday night TV shows, (all of which she hopes to appear on one day) when suddenly it hits her, that not one of these shows has ever featured a blacktress in a major or recurring role.  I hate America, she thinks.   Ordinarily she might call Nirvana to complain about this.  But just that morning the girls agreed to begin The 21 day No Complaining Challenge, recommended by Oprah.com.   So she calls Iyanla instead.



“You drank the Kool-Aid. Wait, what’s vegan for Kool-Aid? Tree sap? Well you drank the tree sap.”

Blacktress and her friend Iyanla are walking out of the Kirk Douglas Theater in Culver City after just taking in a matinee performance of a play:  The Convert, about a young girl in colonial Africa who falls hook line and sinker for Jesus and abandons her African culture for Christianity and Western ideals.

Spoiler alert:  The whole thing ends in a bloody mess.

“Damn that chick really drank the Kool-Aid didn’t she?”  Iyanla says lighting the American Spirit she bummed from a sort of cute guy standing on the corner.

Iyanla doesn’t normally smoke, but after three plus hours in the theater, the girls have gobbled up every near -edible thing in the bottom of their purses and she’s desperate for anything that might keep hunger pains at bay.

“I know.  Assimilation is a motherfucker.”  Blacktress says, “Now please let’s eat.”


Blacktress has exactly three weeks before she has to be naked on camera for the Indie Film, Open Mic Knight.   She thrusts herself into body beautification mode so intense one would swear her wedding day to the Prince of Wales is approaching.   Her first order of business is to track down all her vegan friends.   Ordinarily she finds them far too annoying to invite to dinner parties or share meals with.   But now that I’m watching my calories like Jennifer Hudson, this is the perfect time to catch up with those lunatics over lunch, she thinks.   When even thinking the words “catch-up” makes her crave a turkey burger and sweet potato fries, she realizes that she’s in for a long three weeks.”


THE DADDY DOCTRINE: Never accept a role if you’d rather die than have your father see the finished product.

Blacktress finds herself, sitting in CATZ studios, waiting for her turn to read for one of the leading roles in an indie film.

“I just got the audition notice this morning.  Haven’t even had time to read the script,” she leans over and admits to another auditioner, who looks exactly like her only a foot shorter.

“Me neither” her midget clone whispers back guiltily.

Nevertheless Blacktress is relaxed and stress free.  The girls share a smile.

 Same day auditions are the best, she thinks.  They give you no time to obsess about your choices or presumptuously spend the entire paycheck in your head.

Once in the room, Blacktress gets a good vibe from the cute writer/ Director.   Her attraction wanes once she notices his ridiculously tight jeans and decides he’s either very uncomfortable or has nuts the size of pomegranate seeds.  During her read she feels his eyes lingering over her body.   She’s unfazed.  He’s a director, of course he’s either horny or a wierdo.  Before the sun goes down, the horny/wierdo hyphenate calls to offer her the role.