Sunday Prayers With Babe Walker

Beyoncé once said:

“I’m always happy when I’m surrounded by water. I think I’m a mermaid. Or I was a mermaid. The ocean makes me feel really small and it puts my whole life in perspective.”

The reason I’m bringing this up now is because I’ve become increasingly (and at this point disturbingly) concerned with the rumors I’m hearing about this Little Mermaid live-action “film” that Hollywood is threatening us with. I guess Sofia Coppola is directing it which is fine but still, and last night my intern texted me to tell me that Emma Watson went in for ANOTHER meeting with the studio. I obv told him to keep me posted at all times but I hate him and myself for it.

I’m just putting this out there: there is no way this can work. I don’t care who’s in it.

A thin mermaid gives away her voice to a fat mermaid so that she can see a male human again. With Emma Watson or some other (also British) version of Emma Watson. Ok sure, people. Okkayyyy.

Please, if anyone out there is listening, leave one of my most beloved chicspiration films of all time alone. Ariel deserves better than this. And as a fellow mermaid, so does Beyoncé.

Pray with me. Namaste.

LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.
Posted in Celebs, Dreams, I Am Film, Movies, Sunday Prayers | Leave a comment

I love myself too much to go to Coachella. #whitegirlproblems

David The Intern (Part Five: Hide and Seek)

Babe came over to my apartment last weekend, for the first and last time ever.

Just to catch you up, part of my job as Babe Walker’s “assistant”/”intern”/”fat chamber boy” is to be at the beckoned call of a proud “Psycho Queen” 24 hours a day. Although I’m technically granted 2 weeks of vacation time each year, Babe always finds a way to track me down when an “emergency” arises. Last year I was on vacation in Rome when Babe dialed my hotel room in the middle of the night asking that I please contact the Vatican about “arranging a private audience for her with that new, chic, gay Pope.” Then this Winter I was with my parents in Bermuda when 25 Tiramisus were anonymously delivered to my hotel room with a note that read, “Dear Fat Ass: Wishing you and your thighs a very Merry Christmas.”

So I can’t say I was surprised when my phone died Saturday night and I woke up on Sunday morning to Babe banging on the front door of my apartment, screaming at me to get up and help her finish a few last minute details for her book launch party.  That being said, I was surprised with her reaction when I finally opened the door.

Apparently Babe had never actually been inside my apartment before because after walking into the living room her eyes widened and she started hyperventilating. When I asked if everything was all right she simply shook her head, pointed to an empty ketchup bottle sitting open on my kitchen counter, let out a blood-curdling scream, and stumbled backwards out the door, into the hall, and down the stairs. When I texted her to see if she was okay, she responded with a single skull Emoji. 

When I came in Monday morning Babe asked me to wash my hands five times in front of her, make a kale and collard smoothie, leave it in her office and then “quietly” go about with my typical daily tasks. Although she never mentioned the incident directly I think we both learned a valuable lesson that day about the importance of keeping a healthy distance between employer and employee.

LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.
Posted in Babe, Book, Travel | 1 Comment

Hi. Actually, bye. #whitegirlproblems