Ch-ch-changes

So the Extreme Makeover: Belton Edition finally started, nonsensically, as all things start with me. Last week I realized that my hair was a mess. The 'fro was suffering under my regime of sheer laziness. It was time to send out the SOS to get a badly needed hair cut. Of course I hate going to the hairdresser. Next to the doctor's office they tell you to show up at 10 a.m. and they don't work on you until 3 p.m. It's annoying. In this case my hairdresser was only running two-and-a-half hours behind.

I find going to the hairdresser in Bakersfield frustrating because I usually get charged a lot and not many hairdressers are willing to help me work with my naturally curly hair. Every time I walk into a black salon the first thing they want to do is give me a perm. Just once I wish someone would actually frickin' help me with my fro as opposed to offering to kill it for me. In the end I usually meet them half way and settle for getting my hair straightened the old fashioned way -- with a searing hot iron and a "Bucket-O-Grease (patent pending)."

So the hair is temporarily straightened for the time being and it looks nice but I positively loathe the fact that I've been unable to find someone who likes to work with afros. Cultivating them. Making them extra curly. Anyone know an "afrologist" out there? I mean, the lady who did my hair did a good job if I wanted to wear my hair straight all the time, but I like the curliness and the, dare-I-say-it, "bigness" of the thing. I'm not that threatening looking to begin with, but with straight hair I lose all my edge. I might as well be a cheerleader. No offense to cheerleaders.

Anyway, I feel like rolling up into salons with pictures of Tracee Ellis Ross and Rachel True and going "This! This is what I want!" Some rhyme and reason to the 'fro! How can I get that? So anyone know anyone?

As for my fitness regime ... still debating that one. I'm sure I'll make a decision about that indirectly as well ...

I'm stuck in rehab with Pat O'Brien

Funniest. Blog. Ever.

And for those folks who don't know what's up with TV entertainment guy Pat O'Brien, click here.

Ray Bradbury ROCKS!

So I went to see "literary hero" Ray Bradbury speak at East Bakersfield High School yesterday with my buddy Christina and was tickled when a guy in the audience TOTALLY gave Bradbury the "rock on" sign while he was talking about being infused with the spirit of Herman Melville while he was writing the screenplay for "Moby Dick." It was hilarious. I'd never seen anyone give an author the "rock on" sign.

For those who don't know what the universal "rock on" hand sign is (you know what it is, c'mon, quit playing) here are a few variations.

Anyway, I had to give homeskillet some props for that one. That and the audience (at least 2,000 -- it was packed) gave Bradbury two standing ovations and at one point the "Farhenheit 451" author seemed to really get into the heaping of praise the speakers at the event gave him. Particularly when he turned to lean his arm on the side of his wheelchair as he basked in the glow of Kern County Library's overflowing love for him. He was like the library pope. (He's, naturally, a lover of the libraries. He wrote a sci-fi novel about books, man.)

Anyway, Hollywood is actually giving another go at making "Farheneit 451" the film. No progress has been made, but we shall see. Either way, now that I've met the man, listened to him talk and seen folks give him the "rock on" sign, I guess I better read that book now ...

Mommy Belton

My mother was here with me over a week ago while I was sick. As expected, even though I cleaned my apartment before she came she cleaned it "more thoroughly" and took it as her job to nurse me back to health after a rather nasty bout with a viral infection that was going around. (There was a point where I thought I would never feel well again. I had it for two friggin' weeks.)

It was good to have Mommy around. We went to Fishlips and listened to Nat Dove and the rest of the fellas at the blues jam (including listening to my cubicle neighbor and The Californian's travel writer Mark Barna give his guitar a workout.) But since I was sick I wasn't able to parade her around town like I wanted to do. She had to settle for spending a lot of time with my cat, Shaggy, and sitting around with me, blowing my nose while watching super 70s soul musical "The Wiz" and the HBO film "Only In America" that bio-pic about Don King.

We sat through "The Ten Commandments" broadcast on TV. I'd never watched the thing before. (Um ... my dad runs the TV at home and it's sports-sports-sports-news-The Andy Griffith Show-telenovelas-sports-sports-sports-news-sports.) I couldn't get over the fact that Yul Brenner had a sideways ponytail and golden heeled sandals. Then I could get over wanting to stab Anne Baxter everytime she writhed on the floor and moaned "MOOOOOH-ZESSSS! Oh! MOOOH-ZESSSS!" Then giggled like drag queen gremlin in "Gremlins 2."

Yes. It was a very bonding mother/daughter moment, as we watched Chuck Heston lead his homies out of Egypt only to have them freak out the minute someone chipped a fingernail.

"What? There's no Starbucks in this desert or Pepperoni Hot Pockets! Oh, I am sooo going back to Egypt to worship jewel encrusted bovines!"

I turned to my mother and said, "Well, it's official. People were even stupid back then."

She agreed.

Free Fiona ...

... Apple's new album!

Sony won't release it, but thanks to the magic of the internet you don't have to be deprived just because they're idiots.

Feeling Better! Feeling Bloggy!

Have a word of the day!

coxcomb: n. 1. A conceited dandy; a fop. 2. Obsolete A jester's cap; a cockscomb

"Although actor Jude Law has transformed himself for many different roles, his piercing looks always have given him the look of a 21st century coxcomb."

Curses!

Sorry for the lack of blogging folks. I have been afflicted with some sort of virus that has been going around and not of the computer variety. I have been hobbled by one of nature's viruses, the kind that make you all sneezy and grumpy and the rest of the seven dwarves. It's been most unpleasant.

On the other side of the coin, my mother is in town on a visit. She flew over on the airplane from St. Louis all by herself.

Sigh. They grow up so fast.

Words! Glorious, WORDS!

Here folks! Learn a word!

agitprop: n. Political propaganda, especially favoring communism and disseminated through literature, drama, art, or music

“It also is a conspiracy movie, agitprop against today's targets, big government and big business,” George F. Will

Extreme Makeover: Belton Edition II

I've received quite a bit of feedback regarding my possible makeover from a whole lotta folks. Somehow it's turned into a big self-esteen fest. All singing Billy Joel songs crooning, "Don't goooo chaaangin' to try n' please me! You never let me down before! Oooooo!"

Which is cool. I think it's cute. But on to the suggestions! Here's what I've gotten so far from folks.

(For those worried that the "Eighth Wonder of the World," my afro will die, sleep soundly. My hair will remain big and curly although I am considering changing it some.)

Keep the suggestions coming people! The more the merrier! I'm going to make my decision probably by the end of next week and start my makeover plan of action ...

My "Big Sis," Denise loves me for me:
Do all of your suggestions but do these things only if you really want to. I am biased so I am going to love you regardless of what you do unless you do something to harm yourself, then I will have to step in and give you some learnin' :)

Dancin' thespian, Sheila McClure agrees with Mz. Billy Joel up there:
I agree with your sister--do what you really want to do. But if you want a [exercising] buddy, just let me know! I've been wanting to take a class (dance or martial arts--what about kickboxing?) forever, so let's find one. Personally, I do better if I have someone else working with me; alone I tend to find reasons to ditch class (I need someone to keep me honest). Whatever it is, I'm always up for adventure, so long as it's safe and doesn't do any permanent damage.

David Lollar gets all "Theater-eye for the Reporter Girl":
Here's what I think: you look fabulous, your physical form and style don't need to change just for the sake of changing, and your soul is divine, so maybe you might want to do what they do on those makeover shows-- cut your hair.

Now I'm not saying you need it, I like your hair, it fits your head, and no one, I mean NO ONE wears that style better than you (at least that I've ever seen), but you might consider that it hides your cute face (I know, women don't like to be called 'cute,' but neither do I, and yet, with my Charlie Brown head, I get it a lot) and your smile and your eyes will show more if it comes "out of the frame" so to speak. Just a thought. Of course, you might just a do a belly button piercing, and see how that livens things up in the wardrobe departrment. Nothing says lovin' like a new place to accessorize, right? Be good, have a fun day, and "make that change!"

A plea from Chandra D.:
Don't chop the hair...taming it could be a possibility, but nothing too drastic...you're known for your hair!!...what about new glasses? New glasses are always fun!

Suggestions from the "Notorious T.I.M.":
Being a man, my opinion about hair is probably ill formed, but I have to say, I've never been a big fan of the TWA [Teenie Weenie Afro] on women. Some women (say, Pam Greer in the 70s) can pull it off, but on others, it just looks a little too butch. I mean, do you really want the same hair do that Ice Cube had a few years back?

Joining a gym sounds good (I need to take my own advice). It would give you chance to meet some people while improving your health, which is a pretty good twofer. Problem about gyms though, is they can be both expensive, and intimidating if you don't look thin already (which why I don't go). But in the end, I guess I need to just suck it up and stop whining like a girlie boy.

Don't worry about your fashion sense, it's pretty good, as far as I can
tell.

Here's what "Doctor" Doug Cheesman prescribed:
Hey, you're in California now Danielle. Gymaphobia is a common ailment for a lot of people. The cure for Gymaphobia is a Sport Utility Vehicle. You buy one, wake up and jog at the crack of dawn, then return home to take your kids to school in your Chevy Tahoe.

I am not recommending running because I never run, it hurts. I am not recommending kids either, it hurts (I hear). As for the SUV, if you have one then why would you need to run somewhere.

Fashion. I wouldn't change much. You've got a style and it works for you. Plus, the downtown clothing stores need a steady customer base. It's really a public service to shop there.

Your hair is awesome, it's probably in the running for the eighth wonder of Bakersfield. (#7 is the fact that Buck Owens is still breathing) The glasses/hair combo is your signature look in my opinion.

If you want to feel better, do what I did. Cut out refined sugar, soda's, and start stretching in the morning to start your day. You will be amazed at how much better you will feel when you first cut the junk out. (I lie, I don't stretch, but I should) Other than that, just take some good "me time" to relax. I think you'll be fine.
 
Gwen steps in:
The little fro idea sounds fun to me, but I totally love you as is. I love the new glasses post- it works really well and at lenscrafters you can have them in about 4 hours (gone are the about an hour days!).

Doug's ideas are great, but just remember he is a skinny white boy who doesn't need junk food the way most of us do. I mean we've all seen him without his shirt on and that is not the body of a junk food fiend! I used to run but Doug's right, it hurts. I had the kids and that hurts too and does nothing good for the waistline! I tried swimming and that was great, but a hassle unless your nosy landlord has put in a pool for your convienece.

I hear biking is wonderful but who has the cash to drop at snyder's? I suggest a spa day. If you have the funds go to one of the fancy spas and get a deluxe package and then come home and watch some dvd's just chilling in a robe. If the cash is tighter take a long bath with candles and all that crap, get a friend to rub your back and then do the robe thing.

Bargain Music is BACK!

And this time I will not miss them! I'm marking my calendar right now.

The Long Beach band will be playing Kosmos Sports Grill (the former Goose Loonies) on Friday, March 18th.

Hmmm ... of course my mother will be in town that week. That will be interesting. She's not really a bar or rock or anything sort of person. She's really a read books, watch C-SPAN kind of gal.

Anyway, like to hear them kick out the jams? Click here.

Masala and Bassett: Seperated from birth?

Local actress (you saw her in "The Vagina Monologues"), Colette Masala won a celeb look-a-like contest promoting Angela Bassett's newest film "Akeelah and the Bee" and won for looking just like the Academy Award nominee.

Yeah Colette!

Here's what she had to say:

"Would you believe there were people asking me for my autograph because they thought I was Angela? They even had a celebrity look a like contest. [They] narrowed it down to 4 of us: Barbara Striesand, [Suge Knight], Sammy Davis Jr. and myself as Angela Bassett. I WON!!!! It was crazy! Angela came up and stood next to me, put my face next to hers and we turned around for everyone to see. People were going crazy."

Had another column run!

It was in Sunday's paper. Read it here.*

(*Registration required.)

Or just read it here ...

Why am I so upset? Aniston can't even keep a man
By DANIELLE BELTON, Californian staff writer
e-mail: dbelton@bakersfield.com

So I've been really stressed out lately. I mean, I can't even sleep. It just so distressing. One day I'm up and then the next I'm down and it just seems like my heart is just living and dying at the same time.

God, what is going on with Brad and Jennifer!

They're on again. They're off again. I'm so distraught. I just don't know what to do with myself. If actors Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston can't make it, procreate and hop on those champion steeds of marital bliss and love and just ride together into the land of happiness, what chances do the rest of us have?

No chance! No chance!

I seriously don't think I could be famous. I can barely handle the fake level of fame I have in Bakersfield where people just ask me what bar they should go to this weekend or what play I liked. I don't think I could deal with US Weekly keeping track of what's on my feet every time I enter a gas station to use the john (like they did to Britney Spears. They gave her a most improved hygiene award for having on shoes the last time a paparazzo snagged her at a gas station heading for the potty. Apparently the last two times she was barefoot. The scandal!).

I mean, some days my afro is frizzy. I don't think I could handle seeing a scale showing shots of my hair on random days then having writers predict, based on my hair's frizz level, as to what my mood was.

Uh-oh. Her hair is dry and crispy. Must be man trouble!

But despite my confusion as to why I need to know about the state of Brad and Jen's affairs in the same manner other papers write about the war in the Gulf, entertainment rags fulfill their purpose.

They're entertaining.

With their "abandon all hope! Stop the world! Celebrities are unhappy!" headlines about stuff you probably shouldn't care about, they give you something to snicker over while in line at FoodMaxx.

Or hey, maybe you're me and you actually buy the things because you find them hilarious.

You know, anything to distract from my own horrible, dreary problems. I don't want to think about how I need to prepare my apartment for a bug bombing. I want to read meaningless pap about who folks in an Internet poll thought Pitt should date next if he and Aniston don't work out. They were pulling for either alleged marital interloper Angelina Jolie or "I-don't-know-why-this-even-came-up" Kirsten Dunst.

Isn't she 12? Isn't Pitt, like, 40?

Who knows? They're famous. They're ageless. They're keeping me from having to clean my shower. I'm grateful because celebrities and all their drama are saving lives. Do you realize that if people didn't have them to obsess over they'd have to deal with their rising credit card rates? Imagine the spike in murder/suicides.

Right now, obsessing over whether Good Charlotte is punk rock or not is saving teenagers' lives!

Celebrities right now are keeping some guy from going on that mass killing spree he'd been planning for months. You know he had it all meticulously planned then one day he read an article in Star about whether Kevin Federline will make a good father for Britney Spears' future babies. I mean, he won't even take care of their new dogs. He won't even care of the two kids he already has!

It's just so upsetting.

But we can all breathe a sigh of relief to finally know that Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony are really married. I just feel so much better now because that was really a concern of mine.

I think a lot of the obsession and fascination comes from the fact this is all basically a large extension of high school. All the popular kids got so big they got their own magazine and now we can read about them ad nauseam. Only now we have reporters (or at least people who masquerade as reporters) running around and stalking them, showing us all the navel-gazingly dull things about them to prove that the stars are just us with money.

Crazies become eccentrics. The slovenly become hipsters. Up is down. It's bizarro world.

Because if someone rich and pretty and famous can't find love, and folks who are broke, plain and unknown can't either, it just proves that the essence of life is the same regardless if your zip code is 93308 or 90210.

And because we're all in the same game (especially when it comes to love) I'm suggesting that famous people break into an new business venture -- self-help.

A seminar for women who just don't know why they can't find love hosted by Elizabeth Taylor and Liza Minnelli, featuring testimonials by Spears, Lopez, Halle Berry and Janet Jackson and they could title it --"Every Man In The World Wants Me, So Why Don't You?" A four-part reflection on how being rich, famous and beautiful does not mean you will be able to keep a man.

I think we could all learn a little something there.

Did Ya Hear?

Local director Hal Friedman stepped in to take on the role of the narrator in his production of "Blood Brothers" this weekend at the Spotlight since Greg Ramsdell who was playing the part got sick. I'm actually sorry I missed it because the only think I've seen Hal perform in as an actor was "A Few Good Men." Word has it Hal is a secret song and dance man on the side.

It's not really all that shocking though. He's theater people.

I would have gone but I had a previous engagement. I had to check out Enrique Acosta (The ActionFolkSinger) and his "Better Than You" band at Borders Books on Stockdale Highway Saturday night. On top of that two plays opened this weekend. (Don't ask. I didn't get around to seeing either. I was busy working on screenplays and my novel and all the other stuff that I don't get paid to do.)

IRONY!

I was chatting via email with a friend of mine who ran away and joined the priesthood a few days ago about gospel plays. For those who don't know a gospel play is musical, often put on by black churches or just black folks who really like church. These shows, when successful, often travel all over the country to major cities and all over the south. They usually feature some story about sinning and cheating and stealing and killing where folks learn the wrongs of their ways through God and get saved at the end.

In the mix there's usually some great singing, broad acting and comedy. Kind of like Jesus Vaudeville. Some of the more popular ones were "Older Man, Younger Woman," "He Say, She Say But What Does God Say," and recently Tyler Perry's "Diary of A Mad Black Woman" which was made into a film and has been enjoying a great deal of success. Perry is best known for his playing a crazy black grandmother who carries a handgun in her purse.

Gross racial stereotype #211: When it comes to gospel plays and Jesus, Black folks don't mess around. They like to beat you in the head with some Jesus. I don't know how many times I've walked into a Black Baptist church and was literally slapped with some Lord. Hard. Like in the forehead.

And so this is what I emailed my soon-to-be priest friend about what it is sometimes like for me when tryin to talk to someone at a black Baptist church in the south about my problems:

ME: Rev. Pitts, I'm really worried about my mother ...

REV: (Slap across forehead) JESUS!

ME: Ow. Um ... yeah, but my mother and I. We've been fighting and ...

REV: JESUS! JESUS IS THE ANSWER!

ME: OK. Well ... um, how can I apply that to ...?

REV: Ain't no neeeeed to worry about no application! APPLY TO JESUS! He's got the job for you right here!

ME: But I really want our relationship to get better and I want to be able to ...

REV: COME TO JESUS! Jesus is your relationship doctor! And the DOCTOR IS ALWAYS IN!

ME: OK. Could you just explain that to me with out using a play on words?

REV: What? Ain't no PLAYIN' AROUND with JESUS! Jesus don't PLAY when it come to the WORD! And that WORD is JESUS!

ME: OK. I get it. Fine.

REV: Ain't nuttin FINE about it! It is GOOD. God is good! (waits for me to respond) I SAID, sister BELTON, GOD IS GOOD!

ME: Um ... all the time?

REV: AND ALL THE TIME?

ME: God is good?

REV: THERE YOU GO! Tell ya grandma I said hi.

Brad Sucks

I like broke internet musicians and this Canadian's pretty decent. I like how he sings like he just woke up out of bed with Elton John banging out his hang over on the piano. Check out Brad's ballad of cynicism, "You're Not Going Anywhere."