7 Jan – { New Year, New Us Looking Mug }


The writers here at Kennethology wanted to do something different than what we did last year “25 Things That Need to Stay in 2014” – and although we troll everyone that makes resolutions, we felt the need to share ours for this year of great expectations.


From Tina:

1. To be petty as possible. This is an enhancement on last year’s midyear goal to give up being the bigger person. i’m not making an intentional decision to be as petty as humanely possible at my own discretion.
2. I resolve to not give white folks a break. i’mm burn a candle for your tears.
3. Say no to fkc boys. (As noted last year, this is a lifelong recurring rule)
— this year… I shall also terrorize them. Because…. See #1
4. Be better with my money. And by be better I mean – spend it how I want even if that means I blow $200 on tacos. Shut up. Lol
5. I resolve to force Kenneth to fix his fkcing memory. It got worse last year. How that is possible… Only the devil knows.
From Sydney:
1.  I resolve to kick more small children that I see wylin the fawk out in grocery stores. If their parents won’t discipline them, I feel it is my duty to step in. I might even buy a cape. No mask though. I want them to remember my face. No Child Left Without their Behind whooped. Selah.
2.  I resolve to hold my purse tighter around white men and to yell “Unclean” and point at then whilst doing it. You know…to be fair. I like fair.
3.  I resolve to eat more animals. All things that had a parent. I’m trying to build lean muscle and most wild animals are great in protein. I know most vegetarians and vegans will place 1000 poxes on my house for this, which is fine, as long as they also are high in protein.
4.  Lastly, I resolve to break every mirror in Ken’s house, including his phone. He still takes too many selfies and I blame these drunk ass mirrors who keep pumping his already monstrous head up. We get it muffoccur, you swole. Shit
Tina’s commentary on Sydney’s resolution:  “Maybe because his memory sucks…. And he forgets that he just took a selfie 5 mins ago. Like goldfish…”
Sydney’s response to Tina’s commentary on her resolution:  “Dude. He stay on selfie lol

Blowing me. Nobody forgot how you looked. ‘Cept maybe your bad memory having ass…”
From Kenneth:  
1.  Take way more selfies – the people need to know how I look.  I know I have a John Salley-Miguel Nunez type face…but I’ve learned to love this long face – and I want others to love it too.  Trust me, the people want this.
2.  Get more sleep that is not induced by ZzzQuil – even though on the bottle it says it’s non-habit forming…what I find is addictive is the sleep that comes from the drug…but NOT the drug itself…so I’m good.
3.  Wear way more black.
4.  Sculpt a Michael B. Jordanesque type body…Kenny Creed what they call me.  I would join a boxing gym and box…but the notion of sparring and someone knocking me out might get them shot.  Because black-on-black violence.
5.  Seek clinical help regarding my horrific memory.  It has gotten worse – and it’s to the point i barely even care.  I don’t remember and I don’t care…which is horrible.
6. Not only listen to more – but actually embody the essence of the ratchet music I listen to.
– Kenneth

14.July – { Sydney Charles – Untitled and Raw }



( I get a call from Sydney at 4:33am PST…I missed it, and called her back – she say’s “I sent an email” ….and we got off of the phone.  Below is the email she sent.  Untitled and Raw – Kenneth )

Generally speaking, I am the comic relief of my circle, of this blog community, and have even created a bit of a following on social media as being the person who says the things you are afraid to say, but with just enough comical genius to get away with it without offending anyone…

However, today ‘s long overdue post will not be one dedicated to carefully constructed ideas of filled with my notorious lists of things that “Make my Weave Itch”. Today, I want to talk about something that most people are afraid to, especially, in the Black community, because you look weak (unless you put it in a R&B song). To talk about it, mention it, breathe about it indicates weakness. It causes people to spew out meaningless clichés that they do not realize you have memorized since the age of 5. I want to talk about true heartbreak.

Not the heartbreak that has you sitting on your couch in your pajamas eating ice cream and fried chicken, crying into a $3 bottle of wine, listening to Mary J. Blige (old Mary, not new Mary). I’m talking about the kind that tears out your soul. As I lie in bed at 5:45 on this Tuesday morning (actually crying as I write), asleep since 8pm (because I did not want to deal with the pain I have been experiencing for the last 3 or so weeks), I realized that heartbreak isn’t “heartbreak”. True heartbreak—the gut wrenching, soul stripping kind—is hopelessness. You have lost all hope.

You have lost hope in the one thing that everyone has told you to look forward to since you were a little girl in pigtails. What every Disney movie has conditioned you to wish upon a star for since you were 3. What every mom inadvertently teaches you with the phrases, “No ladies, don’t sit like that”, or “you’ll never get a man dressing like that”, or “why do you keep your hair short, men don’t like that”. We are systematically trained to want love, to be a wife, to have a family, and unfortunately, for people like me, when that doesn’t happen with the one person that you thought was made and meant for you, yes, your heart breaks, but more so, you lose all hope of ever having something like that of your own in this lifetime. You have lost hope in love and happiness. BUT JESUS IS YOUR…shut up.

Just like that, your fairy tale turns into a horrible nightmare. One you cannot escape. One that has every villain you have never been afraid of in your life all in the starring cast and you try to escape and you cannot. Instead, you just relive every single, horrible memory of the monster tearing you apart over and over again. No amount of wine or chocolate or meditation or medication can fix this. Time takes too long. Prayer seems futile. Every song hurts, even the ones with no words. You are too scared to die (just so you don’t have to feel), but you are even more terrified to live. This is the definition of a “Living Hell”. If you have never wondered where this phrase came from, I guarantee you, it came from a woman who has had her life completely snatched from under her and does not know what else to do. BUT THE LORD CAN PICK YOU UP AND…shut up.

To my Christian friends, the ones who will surely read this post and quote Jeremiah 29:11 or I Peter 5:10 or Isaiah 53:10 or Psalm 37:4…with all due respect. Save it. Keep it. Miss me with it. NO! We don’t want to hear it. No one who has experienced this level of agony wants to hear it. Honestly, because we don’t believe it or you. Of course you can say that with your house, car, kids, and well-paying jobs, now that you are out of your wilderness. Do something to convince us otherwise. Show us scientific data that shows that women who have had their heart ripped out and thrown in the dirt repeatedly by different men, had 3 miscarriages (by the same man), sickness, being broke, etc,etc, show their survival rate. I DIDN’T LIKE HIM ANYWAY HE WASN’T…SHUT UP.

I want to see the empirical evidence that shows how these women have survived without Xanax or Valium. I’m almost certain it wasn’t yoga. Do not insult our intelligence with Oprah quotes, Deepak Chopra ramblings, Dr. Oz teas and Bible verses about how to get “over it” and “Hold on”. That DOES NOT work…shut up.

What does work? I don’t know. I have been trying to figure this out for at least 14 years. People tell me all the time “Hey, you’re a good girl, why are you single?”, “Hey, you’re a good woman, why would he do that to you?” “Oh, don’t worry, the next one.” “God’s getting him ready for you.” For you, I place up on you the shadiest of side eye I can create with these two eyes, I WISH I had four eyes so more shade could be placed upon your inquisitive ass. WE DON’T KNOW WHY. WE DON’T KNOW…shut the hell up.

Don’t ask us how we’re doing. “I feel like shit, that’s how I’m doing”. Don’t ask us if we need anything, “I need a baby to hold and love, that’s what I need, oh and a husband is optional”. Don’t ask us if we want to go out, “With you and your BOYFRIEND? GTFOH and my face. Be reasonable”. Leave us alone…and shut up.

It is not the picture creatively manufactured to fit into 22 minutes of sitcom on “Being Mary Jane”. It is not the staring out of the window while is it raining and through the artistically non-brilliant close-up shot where you view the tears blend ever so delicately in with the rain. It is HOPELESSNESS. You’re just out of hope. You have nothing to look forward to at this point. You wake up to go to work and your only joy is getting through the work day to crawl back in to bed, to cry yourself to sleep from the energy exerted to keep on a happy face at work, so know one would ask you “what’s wrong”, deliciously sandwiched with the pain of knowing you have lost the one person you have EVER truly unconditionally loved in your life. That my friend’s is heartbreak—that is hopelessness.

They are – in fact – synonymous at this level of ache. I hope you weren’t reading this for an answer, I don’t have one.

Until next time,

Sydney Charles

18.Feb { The Name Game: Part 1 }


Talking to one my best friends about her latest dating experiences has prompted me to compile a list of men’s characteristics according to name. I am aware that Buzzfeed has done something like this…and there have been several memes and textgrams dedicated to “Men Named ______ Are Good Husbands” or “Men Named ______ Are Cheaters”. However, I want to give more unfair generalizations about men based on the government name or hood given nicknames bestowed upon them . So, the following is the first installment of several pieces. Fellas, you know I really do love y’all, so this is in no way shape or form meant to offend. It is only meant to throw shade and poke fun and piss you off…but not to offend. My interpretations and thoughts and analysis of names have no scientific basis at all. I will however have a follow up series dedicated to numerology…that has some science behind it (you know it’s a science because it has the suffix “ology”. I am also fully aware that “ology” in Latin is translated in English as, “the study of”, but I’m saying science because I CAN) . I am not doing an A to Z list, because I really don’t have the patience. However, I’m going to give a simple list of common names. Eventually, there will be 20 total for you to agree with or make you want to egg my car. These names will be primarily those names rooted in African-American culture (most common African-American names rather), sprinkled with some Non-Ethnicity bound names, ok? I like to be fair. Now on with the show!

Mike: Cats named Mike always played basketball in high school or they meant to try out for basketball in high school…either way, they have an affinity for all things basketball. They often tell stories of what could have happened if they made it to the league. Smh. Mikes are usually attractive. Not always FINE or DAAAAAAYUM, but always acceptable to take out in public. There are few “Ugly Mikes”. Short Mikes: INDEED. They also wanted to play ball, by the way. They tend to be angry because they could not join the team, but they were an equipment manager with that loud ass whistle. They also drink Cognac, Remy or Hennessey or Martell, it doesn’t matter. DARK ONLY ROUN HEA PIMPIN! Mike also smokes copious amounts of weed…blunts only though. Grape Flavored Swisher Sweets or CIgarillos to be exact. Mikes always have a kid, somewhere, even if they don’t tell you about it, but they do. They might even have two. You might be pregnant by a Mike right now and not even know it. Mike is fertile. Stay clear of Mikes unless you want a tax write off…for the next 18 years. Note: Mike is different from Michael…men who go by Michael have jobs and 401Ks…Mikes are not always in this state of life.

Chris: Smh…dudes named Chris. It doesn’t matter if it is short for Christopher, Christian, Christmas, Christopherson , Christening…they all will disappoint you. Every. Last. One. They all have these big dreams and sell it to you so well that you believe them and even want to invest and support. The reason behind all of this is because they are smooth as baby sweat and they are usually quite easy on the eyes…okay, I’m being very soft…THEY ARE FWOINE AS HAIL!!! Like got you cooking bacon in the morning butt naked fine, like you wanna meet their mama fine, like driving to their house and 3am fine (because they also tend to have large paynises). And where I come from, that is a good enough reason for driving and for bacon. HOWEVER! They are chronic cheaters. They don’t know how to NOT cheat. They cheat in their sleep. In their dreams. They are just disloyal muffoccurs if you are in a relationship with them. They make great friends though. As long as you don’t leave your bangable friends in a room with them alone…because they will try and they will succeed. FYI. Raggedy asses…

Rob: Rob is your drunk boyfriend. Life of the party. Knows everybody when you step into the bar. But he is a HORRIBLE drunk. Every time you think you have reached a new level in your relationship, he makes you question dating all together because you had to clean up his vomit…again…and this time y’all had tacos. GAT DAMMIT ROB! But Rob is loyal. To a fault. And by fault I mean that he won’t leave, even if you try to break up with him. He just won’t go anywhere. He’s like that stray cat you fed one time and keeps coming back even after you threw hot water at it. Rob has a job, but it’s always a weird job. Like, “Naggah you do what?!?!? You put the caps on pens? Interesting”. You have a 50% chance of Rob being attractive. But again, Rob does have a job and probably a car. A really nice car. But you don’t ask questions as to how he can afford all this on a pen topper salary. You just go get tacos.

Craig: Oh my Craigs…I love y’all so much. Y’all just need to get it together. Craigs are kind of like Chrises. Except I don’t think they make Craigs in dark skinned. I’ve never met a dark skinned Craig. Like……..ever. Craigs don’t know how to sit down. They are always doing something (which is why most of the time your relationship with them won’t work because they don’t know how to make time for you). They are always on the grind, yet, unlike Chrises and Mikes, they actually have things to show for it. They tend to be into music and food and culture and beer and all things that deal with a lavish lifestyle. That crosses over all walks of life. Hood Craig likes Corona instead of MGD. Bougie/Uppity Craig likes Blue Moon over Corona. They always want to one up the next dude and prove they are not like the “last dude”., but they really are just like the last dude. . However, you maintain the relationship longer than usual because they are light skinned. Craigs know where are all the hotspots are and don’t mind showing you off at these spots. You are the trophy, the arm candy, which is nice, until he get a new project to focus on. You know I ain’t lying. You can deny it all you want. I know the truth.

Semaj: Any man who says his name is Semaj and claims to be a heterosexual is full of lies. Semaj is French for Gay Closest Stripper. We all know that’s just James backwards. You are not special or fancy. Your momma named you this because your daddy’s name is James and she hated him, but more so, hated that she loved him so much. She couldn’t bear to name you James Jr, so she thought she was being creative and named you Semaj. And now, you are a closet gay. It is your mom’s fault that you want to go work at Lucky Horseshoe (that’s a gay strip club in Chicago, you should Google it, it’ll be fun). Semaj knows how to wine and dine you. He is very sensitive to your needs and emotions and knows exactly what to say to make you feel like a lady. This is because, inside, he wants to be a lady, so he knows what HE would want to hear as Semaja or Alexandra, whatever name he decides to go with once his Lacefront wig with fringed bangs comes in the mail.

That’s all for this week. I know you’re mad. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. You’re only upset because it’s true. But it’ll be fine. Go find you a Mike or a Rob and drink some YAK and you’ll forget you even read this J

Next installment will be focusing on Wills, Keith, Brian, Anthony, and Andre.

And I’m gone…..

Syd Chas

23.Dec { 25 Things That Need to Stay in 2014 }



The gang of writers at Kennethology got together via google docs, and made a very short and concise listing of things that we feel should stay in 2014.  Needless to say, this list is full of foolery – but we are definitely serious to say the least…and we feel very strongly about every bullet point, and will argue with you to the death regarding them as well….

Please, take this in….

From Kenneth:



  • Can we leave Drake in 2014 – he needs to become an afterthought.
  • Creases in jeans – the fact that you would break out an ironing board, and prepare your jeans to be creased…and then actually crease them is beyond me.
  • Fox News – and all of those that actually support that foolery…sitting there allowing your psyche and subconscious to absorb such nonsense…i’d delete the whole lot of you – if most of you weren’t so low-key with your racial vices
  • booking info on instagram – chic gets over 1000 followers on IG… now she got clientele and is a model….no negress…you’re followed because your butt cheeks are out, and you’re prolly a THOT
  • hood negros wearing dreads – lets let the 90s vibe of dreads return, so i can grow them and not be associated with the Chief known as Keef.
  • Washington Redskins and all manner of appropriated culture.  The fact that his has to be said in 2014 is ridiculous.  YOU CAN’T DO WHAT YOU WANT AND THINK IT’S OK!
  • Baggy Suits – or anything that looks like what steve harvey might wear.  Get yo lazy tail to the tailor and get a proper suit, also box-set suit and shirt combos are no longer needed in the new year either.
  • Wiz Khalifa and all of his songs, sans “we dem boys” ..because I am indeed one of those boys.
  • Your wack resolutions that you’ll bombard us with on social media.  I applaud your positive outlook on the new year….wait….NO I DON’T – you could’ve start thinking like that 3 months ago…Don’t let a calendar date dictate your level of motivation for self-improvement.  Get your life together.  Geez.  And if I didn’t like the old you – a new you probably won’t be liked either. – go to sleep.

From Sydney:


  • I want to leave Iggy Azalea in 2014. I’d rather go back and rid myself of her ancestors…but ya know, baby steps
  • Can we leave GMO warnings behind? My granny is 83…been eating all sorts of wrong shit for that long…she still here..ijs
  • THOTs…they are starting to take pride in this label and buy excessive amounts of blonde weave and KSwiss
  • all them little muffoccurs rapping who sound like they are part of the lollipop guild…but drink crack smoothies
  • I want to leave Bae in 2014…it was cute when like 5 of us said it in 1999…but this is just ridiculous…when half of your baes look like bears
  • Keurig Coffee Makers…you don’t even drink coffee…you just like the idea of it being cute…reminds of you of a fancy Easy Bake Oven…
  • Lacefronts: I wanted to leave these in 2012, but between Beyonce and Tyra Banks and Korean shops everywhere, you muffoccurs won’t let them burn.and die out..btw, they would burn very quickly…just saying…in case anyone wants to walk around with a book of matches.
  • Big booty hoes who ain’t Black…What’s the big damn deal about these mixed breed, opaque ass, ⅛ drop of blood ass chicks having big ol butts…Black women have had big asses for CENTURIES…but nobody was all salivatory about it…except Sir Mix A Lot…he might be a prophet.

From Tina:



  • New Blacks. *looks at Pharrell and all who agree with him*
  • White Guilt  – No one needs your guilt – it doesn’t help anyone. We need your Anger, Action, and for you to be an Ally.
  • Cultural appropriation. See music (Iggy Azalea), films (Exodus movie), hair, dance, basically everything. Mainly because you all look stupid, but also because it’s rude and sometimes racist.
  • Satire News Sites – Because yall don’t know what they are or how to use them… you don’t deserve them.
  • Fkc boys. Say no to them. Every year I ask you all to leave them behind. EVERY.YEAR. I will continue until you listen.
  • Stupid questions. Yes there is such a thing. Especially when you are asking me for an answer that Google will gladly provide to you. All you have to do is ask her – Ms. Google has all of the information you could possibly need. Don’t ask me something you can Google – this policy is effective starting in Jan 1, 2015.
  • Men who rock cornrows. Not to be confused with locs… which… whew *fans self*. Sorry I got sidetracked. No more cornrows. The fact that this even needs to be said. In 2014. That I have to request that you stop this.
  • Ken’s horrible memory – This is unacceptable.  The staff is gonna get a pool together and get you one of those brain exercise games.  We want you to just…..remember better in 2015.

This post has been brought to you by the lovely staff at Kennethology.com – bringing you quality words for your life on the innanets since a couple of years ago.

– Kenneth



1.Sep – { SO Funkdafied #NoSoSoDef } by Sydney Charles


Nothing like a good impromptu trip into Target. You already have some anxiety about stepping foot in to this store because inevitably you will not just grab the Ziplock bags you need. Instead, you will end up spending $100 on razors, cleaning supplies, and a random graphic tee. However, this piece is not about Target directly. It is about something I encounter every time I step into a Target, grocery store, even doctor’s office. This week’s post is about body odor.

I know what you’re thinking…how do you go from talking about Target to body odor? Well, it happened like this. I’m walking in Target, in the women’s clothing section and as I hurriedly scan the clearance section, I am immediately open hand slapped in the face by the most horrific of smells. Surely, this smell cannot come from any living human. So I immediately begin to look for the elephant that wandered into the store or the goat…it could be goat. But alas, there was no elephant or goat, or even 2 day old dead opossum. There was however a woman, who looked at me as if she knew I smelled her. She just stared at me, as if we were smack dab in the middle of some old western movie. I stared into her eyes to enter her funky soul…she smelled like everything inside of her was the color grey. Lungs: Grey. Heart: Grey. Gallbladder and Colon: Grey. She was dead on the inside and everything just gave up on existing and the smell that radiated from her body was death. To make matters worse, when I inhaled, I think my mouth was open. Which now means that I need mouthwash STAT! I can’t prove it, but I’m certain that upon inhaling that funk that encircled me, that I was undoubtedly plagued with instant halitosis.

So many different emotions and thoughts washed over me in that brief moment. What if someone walked past that section, after seeing me walk out of that section, and thought it was me? What if the horridness adheres itself to my clothes? What if she breathes on me? What if everything she touches turns into a blanket covered in mildew? OH LAWD! What am I going to do? Then I stopped. I thought, maybe she doesn’t know she smells like a petting zoo in Phoenix on the warmest day of the summer season at 4pm. It isn’t my place to tell her directly, but maybe I can help someone else by producing a list of ways that you know that you might have B.O. issues. So here we go. My 5 ways of knowing you just might STANK.

1)    If your nickname is a combination of your birth name with an adjective in front and this is how people differentiate you from others.

i.e. “Hey, guess who I saw the other day?”


“I saw Mike at the bar I went to last night.”

“Mike? Mike who?”

“You know, Stinky Mike”

“Oh shat…yeah, Stinky Mike…that muffoccur right there. Damn.”

I am certain that you have had this conversation at least 3 times in your life.

2)    Even with your favorite cologne or perfume on, you walk around wondering why you have a hankering and keep smelling a $5 Footlong from Subway, with Italian dressing, and red onions, and regular onions, and a garlic dressing and garlic bread instead of the regular bread they always use…

3)    Dogs howl and whine at you. You have disrupted their ability to smell things regularly. They can’t remember where they buried their chew toy. Police dogs cannot hold the scent of the hoodie of a small child in order to find her and possibly save her life. All because you don’t know the value of the friendship between yourself and a bar of Lever 2000.

4)    When your friends hug you, they discreetly try to take a deep breath first. They don’t answer your “How are you?” question until they are 2 feet away from you. Talking during the hug forces them to breathe and inhale and they don’t want any parts of that funk taking over their body like the virus spread by the Outbreak monkey. (which reminds me, maybe we should just shoot stankified people with potpourri darts in the ass, I digress)

5)    Your deodorant fails. Every time. Every brand. All the time. Your Right Guard makes a U-turn. Your Secret puts you on blast on Facebook. Your Dove turns into a Seagull and drowns itself. There is nothing on the shelves or in your kitchen cabinet that can tame the level of funkery that oozes from your open stink pores. The only time you can control it is when you are sitting in a bathtub full of tomato juice. Sometimes that backfires and you end up smelling like baked ziti.

So, now you know. Help someone. Spread this news. Tape green alcohol soaked gauze under their arm pits. Stick a Glade Plug-In wherever you deem necessary. Buy them baby wipes that are scented with lavender and turpentine. Pin them down and stuff them with mint leaves and rose petals in every orifice. Help keep America clean and rid us of the horrifying stench of these violators of sensory function. If you are offended by this…you might just be the smelly muffoccur that I’m talking about. Go ahead and be mad…just keep your spoiled collard greens smelling ass out of Target. Thank J

Syd Chas

And I’m Gone.





22.Aug – { The Face is Strong On This One } by Sydney Charles


The Face is Strong On This One

First of all, I want to apologize for not writing for a while. I became busy with shows and rehearsal and finding a way to not choke life out of, and then back into, and then out of people. However, I have become increasingly motivated and inspired to write again due to some of the things that I have seen on my Facebook news feed.

I have a good amount of FB friends (I don’t know how because I am a complete non-respecter of feelings. I am without fawks to give most of the time). Yet, people still add me and I see their unimportant posts about which jelly they used on their biscuit this morning or what vegetable their 6 month old spit up at dinner time. In between the mundane posts, every once in a while, you get to see a picture. There are 1089 likes on the picture and 65 comments all saying “OMG, you’re Gorg” or “WERQ!” or “Get It”. You see this picture and in that brief moment, you wish that you couldn’t see…anything…ever…again. Commence to scratching your own cornea for deliverance.

Let me slow down. When you see this pic and all the comments, you begin to question your own judgment. You say to yourself, “Maybe that is just her bad side”. Then you see another pic of the “other side” and it is just as bad. This person’s face is like an evil Rubik’s cube of neverending displeasure. You start to wonder if you need glasses. Maybe you need glasses and contacts to be worn at the same time. Maybe you need to squint and turn your head to the left about 34 degrees and cough. Something must be wrong because you don’t see the beauty that is allegedly oozing from this selfie. All you see is confusion and a strong face.

What is a strong face? I’m glad you asked. You ask intelligent questions. It isn’t a compliment. Let’s just get that out of the way. Strong face is pure rudeness and can be considered as a more subtle way of expressing the fact that a person does not have an attractive face. The more powerful the inanimate object used in the simile, the less attractive the person is. This morning, on my FB page, I stated that someone had a face stronger than Popeye after eating a spinach omelette and washing it down with a spinach smoothie. We all are aware of how the level of strength increases in Popeye after spinach consumption. It is enough to overthrow his worst enemy and move boulders and cars. Now, let’s connect that to the face of a FB friend. Perhaps this person has a jaw line that looks like it was drawn with a chisel tip Sharpie, by a 5th grader who just learned what a rhombus is. (Caution: Sharp Turn). They may even have eyes that look as though they are trying to come in for the first date kiss (Cue “Just to be Close To You” by The Commodores). Still confused? No worries. Let’s go over some examples. I’ll give examples that cover the spectrum of strong face.

1)      Man, her face is strong as gorilla glue.

2)      Did you see that guy? His face is stronger than 3 kids who ride on the short school bus.

3)      I’m serious. She has a face strong like bull. (If I said this, it would be in a Russian or Hungarian accent, it makes it more sincere).

The last example brings us to a new term I recently developed: BULLFACEDNESS. This is the strongest of faces. I mean, have you ever seen video footage of people running with the bulls? Have you ever seen a bullfight? Seen a redneck ride an agitated bull for 2 minutes? These animals are relentless with their mission to show others how strong they are. To destroy lives. To flaunt their strength. The bulls careth naught. And the most intriguing part is that, most of the time, they are unaware that they are doing anything wrong. It’s all about survival with bulls.

This is also true of people who are plagued by BULLFACEDNESS. They don’t know they are doing anything wrong by posting these pics that make eyes cry tears of blood. Their intention is not to ruin my day. They just want to flaunt their strength, their face—and will continue to do so until they feel as though they have been acknowledged for their power.

So, next time you see a good strong face on FB or you are startled by someone suffering from bullfacedness; just remember these few tips for survival (kind of like owning a Mogwai)…try to distract them, like a rodeo clown. Tell them that’s a nice shirt. Talk about House of Cards. Point to a random building with a gargoyle on top and ask them if that is distant family (okay, maybe not that one). If it is on a computer, save yourself from continued trauma by removing from your news feed. Most importantly, don’t wear red around them in public. It probably won’t end well for anyone in the arena/office/bar/church service. TORO! TORO!


Syd Chas…

And I’m Gone.








18.Dec { Expensive Free Thought } with Sydney Charles



So, I haven’t posted in a while, because I have been busy with shows, auditions, and recovering from all of those.  Even as I type this now, I am on vocal rest because I strained my voice and I have an audition in a few hours. GREAT!  This inspired me to bring you NON-performers into my world…I decided to give you a bit of information that will help you better understand all your friends who are actors, dancers, vocalists, musicians, and all artists in general. I feel that this will help you appreciate what it is we go through on a daily basis. It will also help me from kickin your ass when you ask me dumb questions.

1)   No, this is not a “hobby” or an “interest”, this is my REAL JOB! I know in high school, there was drama club, show choir, and band and these things were what YOU did (or tried to do and your access was denied because you’re talentless) to fill in your spare time.  But I’m not 16 anymore…I have decided to pursue this as a career.  I want to bring art to the masses. I love what I do, I do what I love, and I hate desks and all things desk related. I train, I practice, I work, and I get PAID to do this.

2)   I probably do more work during a 2.5-hour show than you do all week. You sit at a desk and play Candy Crush Saga all day…I am either singing for hours on end or dancing the countless moves of choreography until the audience is satisfied. There is no half-assin’ because you were hungover the day before from an office party or because your car died. YOU GET TO WORK AND DO WORK until you pass out or need a defibrillator.

3)   No, I don’t have weekends or PTO or Vacation Time. If I am in a show, that means that probably 6 days out of the week, I am on stage…sometimes, we do the same show twice in one day…crazy right? I can’t “call off” for random road trips or weddings, or baby showers, or card parties. I have to know like 6 months in advance damn near. No I don’t want to kick it with you after my shows, no I don’t want to go to the midweek box social, I want to have a cup of Jameson and pass out and hope I have enough Icy Hot to get me through the run of this show.

4)   Insurance? What’s that? Why don’t you just go to the doctor if you’re sick? Why are you always taking herbs and drinking tea? BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE INSURANCE!!! If I do, it’s because I spend half of my check to pay a monthly premium.  EVEN when I’m not in a show…so either you buy me some ginger or STFU.

5)   No, I probably won’t answer your phone call. I use my voice all day.  Why do you insist on making me use it when I don’t have to do so? Just answer my damn text! I promise I will text you right back, are your fingers tired from playing Candy Crush all day? (See number 2).

6)   No I don’t have any money for that.  While I do get paid for this…until I blow up or at least become very well established in the industry or find a part-time gig that doesn’t require me to lift boxes, pick up dog shit, or sell my ovaries…it is a very humble salary…so no, I can’t go to Vegas, Mexico, or London.  You’re lucky, if I can get enough money in my gas tank to get to Milwaukee. And I’m only going there to AUDITION!

7)   You’re always with your theater friends. You know why? Because I don’t have to explain #1-6 to them…Good day.