She is besides herself and DRUNK I might add, cause she put her triffling Jigga of a man behind bars.

Finally!

Those were the orders given to Devendra Banhart and his girlfriend Rebecca Schwartz for today’s exclusive film, the director’s cut of a new campaign for eyewear company Oliver Peoples shot by photographer Lisa Eisner.

In homage to French New Wave classics like Godard’s Une Femme Mariée, Eisner was determined to cast a real-life couple with genuine chemistry, to create “infatuated cant-keep-your-hands-off-each-other moments.” Psych-folk polyglot Banhart and his set designer paramour happily obliged, their liaison unfolding on staircases and shag carpets in the Rainbow House, architect John Lautner’s 1961 Los Angeles masterpiece.

The Venezuelan-born Banhart’s Spanish serenade “Brindo” (from 2009′s What Will We Be; a new album is in the works) sets the mood for love, a topic he mused on when we rang him up in LA yesterday morning. “The last lyrics are ‘the only thing open right now is the hospital’—there’s something weirdly beguiling and beautiful about that. But the majority of the song is about: ‘I’m going to say a toast to this person who has given me a reason to drink joyfully.’ And she’s definitely that person,” he says of his girlfriend!

Oh, and by the way, you will love his music! Can’t stop humming and Ava can’t telling me to keep quiet!

My favorites are #9, #10, #13 and #15. What’s yours?

When it becomes your life!

And you should be so lucky!

Why?

Player read on…

You know I always wondered why my mother used to fantasize about being a soap opera star.

She would burn our dinner, but if she didn’t, how would she find out the latest on the Kim, Bob and Susan triangle?

She would burn a hole in the seat of my father’s pants, put a patch on it and pass it off as style, but if she didn’t, how would she find out about the Erica and Maria baby switch?

She would forget to notice (thank Christ) that I purposely forgot to wear a tank and just a black bra under my see-thru blouse a la Madonna as I snuck out the house back to school after lunch, but if she didn’t how would she find out about Marlena’s possession?

She would forget to dust and vacuum, but if she didn’t how would she find out about Erica’s stint in rehab?

She would accidentally forget to add the fabric softener, but if she didn’t how would she find out about Maria’s death in an airplane crash??

However, my mother would never forget to stop and ask my father for money, a quick feel and a couple of cigarettes and that’s only because my father left the house for work at nine and soap operas didn’t start until about eleven!

But, there was only one soap opera that topped all others-The Young and the Restless. Possums, I heard the theme song so much that it wasn’t until I was five, that I realized the theme song was my nightly lullaby!

You know how nobody could come between Brooke Shields and her Calvins? Well, no one could come between my mother and Mr. Victor Newman on Young & the Restless! Oh, Possums, how she fantasized about not only being in the arms of Victor Newman, but liking it! True, he was everything my father could have been, but was not. Victor Newman was debonair! Victor Newman was gallant! Victor Newman was posh! Victor Newman was white!

My mother didn’t even mind picturing herself as Nikki Newman (née Reed, formerly Foster, Bancroft, DiSalvo, Abbott, Landers, and Chowback) when Nikki used to be a stripper and prostitute at a strip club called “The Bayou” (later renamed Marsino’s, then Marilyn’s)! Besides, it was exactly what my mother had being doing to my father for years, just not getting paid for it!

So what makes a good soap opera-phyte?

Possums, it wasn’t her finest hour. It wasn’t my father’s finest hour, either.

My parents are still in hot Jamaica. Remember when I told you that my father has been getting on my mother’s nerves? Well, let’s just say that it was the case of the dramatics that finally brought them back together.

Have you ever heard of a person who never knew how to perform CPR, perform it when they most needed it? I think that it is a force that comes from God when you need it.

My parents had gone out for brunch, which is really breakfast if you are in Jamaica cause everyone gets up at 4:00AM to feed the chickens. So, my father needed a drink and he needed it bad!

You would have a stiff drink first thing in the morning too, if you were married to my mother!

So, when the waiter came to take their order, he ordered his usual-vodka on the rocks. I think he added the “rocks” because he thinks it is a protein. You know you gotta get in all the food groups whenever you can.

My father then excused himself to the bathroom. But, when he came back to the table my mother had already thrown the drink into the potted plant nearby! So, what did my father do? He sat and stewed. Then he stewed and sat.

Jigga-man wouldn’t eat a thing.

Not even a drink of water!

Who knew later that he was going to spite two people that day!

You know Possums, there comes a time in your life when God sends you a lifeline. And if and when that time comes, you better not throw it back to Him. You better take that life line, wrap it around your waist and hold on cause you are going in for a ride!

How do I know?

It’s in the Bible.

I’ll get back to you later on the chapter and verse.

After their meal, my father, like a child with his arms crossed, pouted alongside my mother and her full-from-brunch belly all the way up the street. They stopped a few miles from the hotel they are staying at to chat to a couple of friends that they haven’t seen in a long while.

As I was told later:

All of the sudden, my mother noticed that my father started sweating.

“J.B? Is something wrong?” asked my mother.

My father wouldn’t answer.

I think this is what they call the “soap opera pause”. You know the pause that they do as they look yonder past the camera, just before they go on a commercial break.

Possums, my mother’s instincts came into play.

Her soap opera instincts!

Soap Opera Instinct #1-Flail away your arms like crazy to grab attention to yourself and not to the person who falls ill.

My father began to feel faint. His eyes started to roll back to check to see if his brain was still there. It was. Then my father slightly arched his back ¾ of the way.

“J.B! J.B! What’s wrong? Why you look like that?” asked my mother as she did circles around my father drawing his circle of friends around them.

Soap Opera Instinct #2– You must run and grab water and bring half the court yard back with you.

My mother screamed to the Father above for help. She ran one and a half blocks, uphill, to the closest bar. She screamed for a barmaid, who came from the back. She screamed for water, bottled and not tapped (we wouldn’t want my father to have the runs now, would we?) and threw the money at the woman.  She then grabbed the bottle of water, and ran back down the hill, as she clutched her breasts, all two of them, yelling her husband’s name bringing the entire courtyard with her.

My father’s knees began to slump.

Isn’t it funny when you are in the middle of a crisis how slow everything seems to go?

Soap Opera Instinct #3-You must grab a hold of your chest when you have a chance to break away, for the dramatics, of course!

Then my father teetered this way and then my father teetered that way, just giving my mother enough time to run her hands from front to back in her hair because even though most people would pull at their hair in distress, soap opera stars make sure that it is still in place.

Not to worry.

She was frantic about it though!

My mother grabbed at her shirt as my father fell forward towards his feet. And then he kerplatzed in my mother’s arms!

Soap Opera Instinct #4-You must always blame the other person for any wrongdoings.

“Jesus Christ! Please don’t take my husband away from me! Not now! He is all that I got right now! In Jesus name I pray, Amen!” prayed my mother.

“At least not until I update the Power of Attorney and Life Insurance Policy, Amen to that too!”

Possums, I just inserted that part, to see if you were paying attention!

“You see what you are doing to me? This is what you get for treating my so bad! God is whipping you!” exclaimed my mother, as she leaned my father towards the brick wall and started to dowse him with water.

Oh, yeah, and he got to drank some of it too!

Soap Opera Instinct #5-You must cup your lover’s face and wipe their tears away, but make sure you get the right lighting.

“Do you know what you put me through?” asked my mother to my father, as the ruckus died down. His eyes were half closed, but just opened enough to see the sun was shining brightly behind her head, forming a small halo around her Afro puff.

Soap Opera Instinct #6-You must ask the other a question that is only answered with a “soap opera pause”, just before you go to commercial break.

Possums, I would like to say that my father then looked up to the heavens and cried out to his maker, but sadly no. My father had water thrown on his face and was slapped back into consciousness! And conscious he was, when he came to reality, he saw his wife’s face. And not a hair or make-up out of place, for one must stay true to the soap opera star inside. He thought for a moment that maybe he did die after all…and made a wrong turn at St. Peter’s gate!

My mother came away from this experience, a full woman, having realized that acting is not only for the bedroom.

My father came away, like all marriages, half a man.

You ask, after all of this, are they still mad at each other?

Possums, the man known as my father, spent the night with his wife’s head resting in his lap!

I think they call it “broken telephone”.

But, what you don’t know is a lot of Black people such as myself actually prefer “broken telephone” cause then the story is more juicier and funnier. So, what was really “broken”, ain’t broken.  So why fix it?

Well, it all started when I heard this story about my backwards cousin. He is somewhat of a redneck, except he is Black, so really he is a blackneck (yeah, Jamaicans have them too, except Jamaica has mountains instead of hills, so they have their own special set of hillbillies). And while hillbillies smoke pipes, backward Jamaicans smoke bushes.

Just ask my mother.

But, of course!

Well, my backwards cousin JUST came up to the U.S. (specifically, Philadelphia) for the first time.

Fresh off the boat.

Just off the plane.

Just got his first stamp on his passport.

And according to my Aunt, it would probably be his second to last one, cause she wants to send him back already!

He is the quintessential FOB.

Did I mention that the Jigga somehow got on the wrong plane? The FOB called my Aunt and Uncle at 3AM only to say, “Well, I’m here.”

My tired Aunt was like, “Where is here? Cause muthafucka, where I am is HERE and where you is ain’t NOWHERE!”

“I’m at JFK.”

Possums, I don’t know what the airport code is for Philadelphia, but I assume it would start with a “P”. My Aunt wasn’t too happy with her new found step-son, who I might add is a very grown man. So, she wasn’t too impressed with him when he finally had to go to work the morning after the next.

Not here.

Not there.

But, in Philadelphia.

That morning, my Backward Cousin put on his coat and went outside the house to start his day. Suddenly, he ran back inside the house hooting and hollering.

“SHEREN, SHEREN, COME QUICK! THERE’S SMOKE COMING OUT MY MOUTH! THERE’S SMOKE COMING OUT MY MOUTH!” screamed my Backward Cousin.

“What did you say?” asked my Aunt as she ran from her kitchen.

“SHEREN! THERE’S SMOKE COMING OUT MY MOUTH! THERE’S SMOKE COMING OUT MY MOUTH! TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL” screamed my Backward Cousin.

My Aunt stood there and watched as my Backward Cousin had his arms wailing around.

Possums, you remember my Illustrious Aunt from Philly?

My Illustrious Aunt whom all of her brothers except two died in a space of two years. My Illustrious Aunt whom was diagnosed with cancer of the colon and beat that with such an inspiring spirit, because nothing was going to invade her asshole except my uncle’s penis! This is the same Illustrious Aunt whose house burnt down, while camera crews watched as her son gallantly dashed in to save their precious mementoes, leaving behind the Bob Marley poster. The same poster which was the only thing that didn’t “Catch a Fire”!

Yes, that Aunt!

So, Possums, you have to excuse the following expletives (courtesy of my Aunt) when I heard back the story. So, I will write the following in as elegant a prose as I remembered it.

As realization crept over her face, she looked at my cousin and gallantly opened her mouth and said:

“You ignate muthafucka! You are in my country now! If you hadn’t notice this a colder climate! Here, let me grab you a dunce cap so you could put it on to match your overcoat, dunce boy! It’s called CONDENSATION muthafucka! Who do you think you are a muthafuckin’ fire breathing dragon?”

My Backward Cousin looked at her stunned.

“Now, I want you to breathe in some air. And now breathe the frig back out. What’s happening?” asked my Illustrious Aunt.

“Nothin’. I’m breathing,” answered my Backward Cousin.

Now she grabbed him by his arm and PUSHED the man out onto the front porch.

“Now take a deep breath in and now breathe the frig back out. Now, what’s happening?” asked my Illustrious Aunt.

“MY BREATH IS ON FIRE! SEE THE SMOKE!” shouted my Backward Cousin.

“And you know why?” asked my Illustrious Aunt.

“Because I am in your country?” asked my Backward Cousin.

“No,” answered my Illustrious Aunt.

“Because I am in a cold climate?” asked my Backward Cousin.

“No,” answered my Illustrious Aunt quietly.

“Cause of the condense-something?” asked my Backward Cousin.

“No. Cause you Sir is a MUTHAFUCKA!”

We had just come back from an art showing and before that my cousin’s 30th birthday party.

“Bore?” I asked, looking back at Ava’s earlobes. “You have two holes in your ears already.”

“No, bore them. You know when you put the big circle in it and stretch it,” she stated.

“Bore!! I thought only Africans do that?” I asked.

“White people do it too!” she exclaimed.

Possums, I just had to walk away.

And then later that evening it happened.

You know Possums, when bad things happen to you it doesn’t mean that you brought it upon yourself. It doesn’t mean that God is angry at you. It doesn’t even mean that God saw when your hand pushed that ten dollar bill back into your purse and you “accidentally” let a dollar bill fall into the offering plate, during church service. It means that someone in your family placed VOODOO on you!! Voodoo cause you wouldn’t get them what they wanted.

Who pray tell would do such a thing?

Possibly, a little girl who wants to bore her ears to look like a Masai warrior or a swing!

A large swing!

First, let me give you a little background detail. Ava has a very bad habit of getting dressed in my room because I have mirrors at angles that are very flattering.

But, of course!

She also has a bad habit of leaving things on my bed as she tries on outfits like rings, earrings, socks, tights, etc.

I was so tired and it was late.  I just hopped into my bed.

Well!

Well!

You know this is the one time I wouldn’t have mind landing on something stiff and sturdy, like a penis.

But, no!

I had to land on an earring!

All of the sudden a surge of pain went through my body! It began at the bottom and rose out of the top of my head, reached the high heavens and came back down again, and out through my mouth.

What kind of earring was it?

Never you mind!

Okay, it was the gold bamboo-like ones, with her name written in SCRIBE!

“Oh, my gosh Ava come quick!” I screamed.

“What’s a matter?” she came running into the bedroom.“Why are you going to bed naked? There is no one here with you?” she asked.

“Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Pull it out! Pull it out!” I screamed.

Possums, do you know that Jigga ran the other way!

I guess she needed space.

“I am not going to pull it out!” she yelled as she came back to the door.

“Oh, my gosh, it hurts so much! Bring me one of my ice packs and a mirror!”

Ava ran and came back with the ice pack.

“You haven’t taken it out yet?” she asked.

“I tried, but it hurts sooo much! Grab me a pad!” I asked.

“What for?”she asked.

“Don’t you think that I should go to the doctor for this? I may need a tetanus shot! Who knows how much hair grease, and how rusty that earring was!” I said.

“And where do you expect him to put the needle?” she asked trying not to laugh.

“True,” I grimaced. “It WOULD be the first time I would have to get a needle due to something I use for sex,” I reasoned as I held the ice pack between my legs.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

I then took in my two large breasts and then my breath and gave it a good tug.

I cried out!

I was free!

Free at last! And thank Christ Almighty!

I don’t know what hurt the most- the tugging or the ice pack! But, I still made Ava call the doctor’s  answering service.

“Yes, my mother accidentally pierced her-”started Ava. She looked over at me, giving me the signal if she should really go on with the phone call.

“Go on…,” I said, adjusting the ice pack.

“She pierced her vagina with an earring.”

“Tell her it was not on purpose. Tell her!” I shouted.

“No, Miss. She didn’t do it on purpose,”she answered waving me off.

“Tell her that YOU wanted to bore yourself on purpose though!” I said.

“She asked if you can walk to the door, then it may or may not be an emergency. If, not, then hang up and call an ambulance,” said Ava as she covered the receiver with her hand.

“You know what? Just hang up! Hang up the blasted phone,” I said exasperatedly.

Ava listened to the Stupid Secretary Girl and then hanged up.

“The lady said to take something strong for the pain and if you can make it, come to the office in the morning”.

Possums, I could just see it now- me hobbling into the office and those three Secretary Girls snickering behind their tall desk. And then my doctor thinking that this is just one of my many antics. He already thinks I am crazy.

He treats my mother, too!

You know Possums, as I laid on the bed with the ice pack between my legs, it made me put a lot of things into perspective.

Yes, my vagina was cold, but that’s not it.

Do you know that God should have made kids born when they are old enough to have guilt? Think about it! Not only did I get a pat on my back, but I got- a foot rub, pedicure, a toasted strudel, a piece of homemade lasagna, two bottles of water with a glass of ice with a slice of lemon, two rounds of Crazy-Eights, and my mail! And the best thing of all, Ava listened to all my favorite stories from my childhood!

Twice!

All from guilt!

And so Possums, my vagina is numb from the ice pack and I probably have an extra hole somewhere.

Now aren’t those two things that I could entice men with?

She was watching me cut into the lasagna that I made the night before. Leftovers are so good…except when it comes to men.

“You know Ava,” I said as I put the knife down on the island and looked her straight in the eye.

“I am not your housekeeper, nor am I the cook. So, whatever my whim takes me, whatever the budget calls for, whatever’s in the fridge, or whatever’s in the cupboard; that my darling is what you are having dinner.”

Smiling to myself, I picked back up the knife.

Her face had this incredulous look on it.

“Are you going to write this in your blog.”

“But, of course!”

Ava and I were walking through this quaint part of New York called Greenwich Village. She was in a forlorn mood because I said no to her when she wanted a journal from the Marc Jacob store. (Side Note- Possums, all the jigga did was take a book and put his name on it along with a hefty price tag. I saw a similar book like it before. It was at the dollar store!).

It was a dark and sparkly night, when Ava turned and asked me, “How much does it cost to go to the moon?”

“A lot,” I answered as I munched on one of my cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery.

I waited in line for thirty minutes.

I bought six.

“Well, how much?” she asked.

“I think, like a million dollars or more. Why, you want to go to the moon for?” I asked as I headed towards the closest parking bench. We sat across a couple who started to caress each other’s hair.

“Because, I want to travel there,” she answered, as she looked up at the sky.

“Well, you can become an astronaut and go up there for free, but then you have to be careful of the rocket not blowing up when it goes into the next atmosphere and-”

“Planes, go up the same way and come down and they don’t blow up!” she said cutting me off.

Parking Bench Man started to kiss Parking Bench Woman.

“Yeah, but Ava, they don’t have to go that far up and then into a different atmosphere. So, you are definitely going to have to take classes. And then when you come back, you have to ease into the atmosphere slowly, or else you can blow up again. Remember those people who blew up when they were coming back down and then all their body parts where all over the place and in the ocean. And then if that happened there wouldn’t be an open casket and then we would probably just bury your leg and an arm, and then-”

“I just wanted to get into space! Why are you trying to burst my bubble!”

It got real quiet as I searched my head for the right words. I couldn’t help, but notice that Parking Bench Man’s hands were on Parking Bench Woman’s left breast and he was massaging it quickly.

“You know, Chica Bica, you can just look up in the sky and see the stars. A rocket trip doesn’t have to hold you back,” I said.

“True. You are right,” she answered.

Okay, now we are back on! And so was Parking Bench Woman who now somehow seemed to be dry humping Parking Bench Man’s knee!

I lost my train of thought.

Then I remembered, “Don’t forget you have to be good in Math and Sciences and you have to probably maintain a real high grade point average.”

“Forget that!”

It got quiet again.

Space came between us indeed!

And she didn’t even had to go anywhere.

LIVE FROM NEW YORK

“Do you know that Taylor Momsen has a vibrator?” asked Ava.

Good Morning Miss Daisy!

Who asked for a side of vibrator to go with my morning espresso!

“She does!!! Wow. Great Minds think alike. Why, you want one?” I asked her.

“No. I am just saying she has one,” answered reading the paper.

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t you have to be older to have one?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“I just thought that you have to be at least eighteen to go into a sex shop.”

“Maybe, she must have bought in online,” I shrugged.

“Oh,” she answered and then took a sip of her tea.

You know Possums, there comes a time in one’s life when you look back at your family tree, way back, back a far as you can go and wonder how far does genetics and sexual habits carry and if it could skip a generation.

Possums, one eye open.

That’s all I am saying.

One eye open!

“What does one wear to such a solemn occasion as this?” I asked myself as I searched through my closet.

I missed one of my mother’s doctor appointments because I was in Philly, so I had to make sure that I would make it to this one. I didn’t want to wear white, because it seemed too clinical. And I don’t care what anyone says, white is not slimming…even if you squint! Black, seemed so sad and pessimistic. I could go with yellow or gold, but it just seemed way too bright. And then I got to thinking about all the eligible doctors at the hospital and it was downtown, so I settled on black cause it was fetching and slimming. What is that thing people always say, “Black is beautiful?” Yeah, Black IS beautiful, especially if you have your hands on a black Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress cut just so.

Possums, the air permeated with uncertainty, as the three of us (my sister, my mother and I) waited for her name to be called as we sat in the waiting room. It was not only a battle of wits, but a battle of perfume of three Black women! I think my sister won. Nothing can beat cheap cologne, I say! Darn tootin’!

I thought about picking up a magazine, but I couldn’t concentrate. So, being who I am, I looked around the room, and studied people’s faces. My mother and sister being who they are talked to each other in hushed tones…about the people in the room.

“I wonder what he is in here for?”

“I love her hair. I wondered where she bought it?”

Finally, our names were called and my sister and I fell back, so that my mother could walk into the examination room first.

“Watch the door for me.”

“Mom!”

“What? You are going to be the same one calling my phone, asking me if I have any plastic gloves to perm your hair!”

Possums, I have to let you in on a secret. When I was little, my mother would pillage the drawers of the doctors. Nothing serious-just cotton balls, plastic gloves, free medicine samples, lotion, antibacterial lotion, towellettes, rubbing alcohol, brochures on how to quit smoking (for my Dad), facial cream, note pads, lost of sexual drives in seniors (again for my Dad) and pens. My mother reckoned that the samples are going to be given free anyways…she was just hurrying the good old doctor along.

Possums, don’t be acting like it never crossed your mind as you sat in your doctor’s office, either!

Come to think of it, we never took those long wooden stick things that the doctor holds down your tongue with. I guess, we never did like anything long and hard in our mouths…

Well…

My mother’s doctor let her know that she has to get a bone marrow scan for further testing, which means that she is definitely going to have day surgery. She had it many years ago, and it is very painful. I felt it for her. Truly, I did.

When the doctor removed himself from the room, his decision was left clouding the air. So, I decided to clear it.

“What do you think about me getting myself some butt implants?”

“Lucresia!” said my sister.

My mother guffawed.

Hey, sometimes you have to laugh, or else you are going to cry.