Coffee Rhetoric: April Fools
Showing posts with label April Fools. Show all posts
Showing posts with label April Fools. Show all posts

April 23, 2011

Pedestrian Tales: You Don't Measure Up Sir

As often as I find myself in interesting and sometimes compromising situations on the bus (some man gave me his number the other day, and said he "sees" me "a lot" downtown and insisted we should have lunch. Even though I disagreed, I feigned like I was entering his number in my phone anyway) or in a taxi (I've been driven around by some colorful and seemingly unstable Yellow Cab drivers)- I often stumble into random and somewhat awkward scenarios while walking the streets and minding my own business. This past week was no different. I usually roll my eyes behind my of dark shades, purse my lips irritatingly, and ignore the foolatry I'm being propositioned or antagonized with and keep pushing forward or I cross the street and simply  re-route my progress. Every now and again however, I like to deviate from my usual mask of disdain and loathing for much of man-kind and play along... sort of like I did in this Pedestrian Tale... 
It was a particularly windy spring day, late afternoon... post-work rush hour as I took quick, hard-stomping strides towards Webster Bank at City Place, anxious to get some cash so I could hit up the noodle bar at The Market at Hartford 21. A lanky, not up to par, younger looking man appeared out of nowhere, and started walking alongside me. "I like your bag. That's nice," he said, side-eyeing me up and down. "Yup, thanks" I answered dryly. I walked at a clip and he managed to keep pace. I was almost at the bank and wanted him to veer off and leave me the hell alone. "I like your shades too... they fit nicely on your face," he continued.  "Umm-hmm" I said aloofly. 
"Yeah, you look really nice. So do you have a man or anything?" He asked promptly. Suddenly, I stopped walking (plus I'd arrived at the door of Webster Bank's enclosed ATM machine).  
"Yes." I answered with a polite smile. "I'm practically married!" 
"What do you mean, practically married?" He needed to know.  
"I live with my paramour." 
"Oh. You faithful? How old are you?" he asked.
"I've no reason not to be. He pays the rent and all of the utilities, bills, cable. He takes me on all expense paid trips and dinners, plus he does most of the cooking. I'd hate to mess that up. Plus I'm 45. Probably way too old for you."  (Lies!)
He blinked at me. "Um, I promise you it'll be worth it, to get to know me. You're just my type too. You look like you're 28-years-old." He pressed.   
I surveyed his low slung, too big for his frame jeans and unkempt cornrows from behind my shades and asked "Would you be willing to inherit all of those expenses?" He thought about it for a second, then said, "Oh. Okay then. It was nice meeting you."
I nodded in a self-satisfied WINNING on tiger's blood sort of way, because in my past experiences dealing with unwanted suitors, lying about being "taken" left them undaunted. 
He turned to leave me be, but not before asking, "So, um... you got any sisters?" ... 


April 11, 2010

Closer

I write a lot about the pain of Tantalus Torture... of desperately yearning for something that is so-so close that it tickles your nose and makes your eyes flutter, as it gently touches your lashes... only to have it dance away, mocking you, as you try to grab hold of it. That has been the story of the last few years of my adult life, and so I never fill my basket with all of my eggs. I'm always expecting the unexpected. I jut my chin out defiantly and take each day as it comes... However, I am extremely famished. The pangs in the pit of my stomach twist, gurgle, and wrench... demanding to be fed. I take in sustenance... as much as I can... but am never sated. I eat, I consume, I gobble, I greedily stuff my gut but my hunger is a bottomless pit. 
This current situation... it works, for now. I'm grateful to be in its midst however, I want the whole lot.  I'm greedy and it's oooh so close... ready to be gobbled up, but how long will it last? I'm not a pessimist, but I'm already mentally preparing myself... in case this grande bouffe disintegrates and slips through my fingers... To be cont. ...




April 26, 2009

Brilliant!

Dear Male (or Female- I'm fair) Populace,
Here's a NOBLE idea. It's a brilliant suggestion in fact. Listen close! ...

Don't date a woman, tell her how much you like her, engage in an adagio dance with her, and then blindside her out of the blue with: "I REALLY like you, and would obviously much rather be with you, but I'm old, desperate and lonely and am about to push my seed in the bush of some dysfunctional, narcissistic bitch who once treated me like dog doo-doo and had a gang bang in a hotel room once with 4 (or so) random men and called and told me about it, knowing it'd make me feel inadequate.

It's a horrible idea, she's not my soul mate, my friends think I'm stupid for being equivalent to toilet paper, I hate her guts, BUT I feel like this is my last shot to have a kid. I don't want to be lonely like the old men I see sitting in Borders Books and Music. I have to at least try. She called me a week ago, and said she'd be willing to bear my rotten seed, even though she agreed to once before when we were dating and then abruptly changed her mind, leaving me depressed and suicidal."
Okay, perhaps not in those exact words, but close enough true to life. Anyway, don't ever tell a woman that mmmkay? Casually dating or not, it sucks and is downright weird. Moreover, don't ask the woman on the receiving end of such nonsense, to agree to resume contact with you, to continue being your friend and "hang out" with you while you attempt to or are considering impregnating another. More importantly, don't ask her if you could still see her if things "don't work out" with getting said other hooker knocked up, and don't guilt trip her for mocking and cursing you afterward by whining...
"I know it's a bad idea, but you aren't interested in having children, and I feel like this is my only shot. I should at least trrrry. I doubt it'll even work out but I gotta try."

See, engaging in this type of behavior is a surefire way to get laughed at, verbally berated, cut, pepper sprayed in the eyes, or shot at. It's just not cool. Procreating with someone who treats you like dirt, you don't even love, and who loves you even less makes you seem desperate and pathetic. Fortunately there are still those of us who have the wherewithal to laugh and politely ask the likes of you to go to hell and to disappear out of their lives STAT. Of all the bizarre dating episodes, this rates right up there. It even has foot guy from this post beat.

The dating world is teeming with extraordinarily dumb fart knockers like this middle aged one (yes, douchery is universal and crosses all ages, economic levels, races, and levels of intellect. The shit is widespreading, like the swine flu.) I'm overwhelmingly amused and can't stop laughing. What clownery! Also, what a rotten reason to have a child. What a selfish and inconsiderate way to bring a child into existence, other than from the love of two people, who aren't in need of anti-depressants. You'll always be lonely. You don't need a kid, you need intense therapy. Batshit, loony, drama-filled women of the world UNITE. You'll always have some el stupido, insecure, manic depressive jackass to love you long time, and return like a lost dog finding its way back home. That is all.

April 12, 2008

Umm....

This past week I've been home from work, coughing up my last lung... grimacing at what's been coming up out of my throat, blowing my nose, taking any drugs and cough sizzurp (yes I said sizzurp) I can get my hands on, whining and cursing my illness for I haven't been this sick, in a long time. ... I feel a lot better and felt inspired enough to compose a witty blog post. But, I just realized that today is April 12, and I haven't done my damn taxes yet. ... Shit. Maybe I should get on that like, now before The Man shakes me down hardcore.

April 08, 2008

In Which Coffey Learns

During these stuffy sinused, work filled and busy days, I've finally had the opportunity to reflect on conversations heard whle out and circumstances I've run across. I've been taken to school, if you will. Inadvertent lessons taught to moi. As my ears pop and my nasal passages clear up, I'm suddenly awash in a brilliant sea of clarity. I've realized, in this current cult of personality, that people will simply continue to be themselves in all their loud, stank, uncouth glory. Bad, ugly, unhygenic, and overwhelmingly raunch. This much I know is true. I realize that people have no qualms about boarding the bus, early in the AM, taking their seat, and then breathing heavily... their breath reeking of jungle rot or hot garbage on a particularly humid day. I can sit here and ask the universe whether it's too much to ask or wish for certain people to floss, brush or scrape their tongue, gargle and take it to the back, perhaps pop a mint before venturing out into the world... But why bother? The answer is yes, it is too much to ask. And so I suffer silently. Fate decreed that this is the cross I must bear sans questions. I also learned while en route to the mall (on the bus of course)- this past Saturday, that a young Hispanic lass I'll call Romeo (all of maybe 16 years old) was headed in my direction to meet Lissette. Lissette, apparently, was going to meet Romeo at the mall, so that he could "fuck her." ... "Yeah," proclaims Romeo to his buddy, "Lissette's gonna meet me there so I can fuck her." To which his friend replied with a spitty chuckle/chortle combo. Ahhh, I learn something new every single day. Is this what young people do now? Do they have trysts at the mall?? Whatever happened to sitting in the dark, at the back of the theater? Or going to the park after dusk? Folks our future depends on these very same young people. In which case, I'd rather not be cryogenically frozen. I'll just go head and rot. I also learned that a mall is NOT the place to be on a Saturday afternoon, with a sinus infection. It was hot, it was extremely crowded, and I couldn't concentrate for I found myself wondering about Romeo and Lissette. I didn't want to run into them in some sort of compromising position. Speaking of young people, I also learned that in their quest for fame, they like to videotape themselves beating the living daylights out of some poor unsuspecting victim, in hopes of uploading it on YouTube. Yup, don't freeze me, just burn me and throw my ashes in the nearest ocean. Life's little lessons can be a bit overwhelming when swallowed whole sometimes. Now pardon me while I go wait for my food to digest ...

April 02, 2007

Belated April Fools Extra

I'm sorry, but I HAD to post this video of Alanis Morissette, spoofing The Black Eyed Peas' hit, "My Humps" Here's the original version, just for kicks.

April 01, 2007

Bwhahaha, Joke's on you!

*sigh* It's April Fools Day and I've nary a soul to play a cruel, unusual, and funnier than all hell, practical joke on. I used to be the QUEEN of practical jokes. My pranks were thoughtful, well contrived, methodical, and they cut to the bone and marrow like razor sharp teeth. I miss doing that. I miss the rush, of seeing someone's reaction... I remember the time, in high school, I believe it was senior year... I purchased a copy of The Joy of Sex at the bookstore, giggling and cackling all the way up to the counter, with the accessory to my crime nodding her approval, as the cashier looked from us to the book suspiciously, before ringing the purchase. Oh, that book. I packaged it and had it Fed Ex-ed to the intended's homeroom. I made one other person aware of my plan, for she was in that same homeroom, and I needed someone to report details back to me. I swore her to secrecy, threatening to beat her over the head with a shovel, if she spilled. She agreed, and so the plan was on. Oh, was that the talk of the day amongst the student body and the faculty! Who sent that book to... we'll call him... Charlton? According to my spy, once delivered, the parcel was received by his homeroom teacher, who handed it to him. Because Charlton thought it was from a prospective college, he thought nothing of ripping it open in front of his peers. Much to their shock and amusement it was a comprehensive guide to sexual pleasures, unimagined. Pure and unbridled sexing, explained, illustrated, and bound into a wondrous manual. People racked their brains, trying to figure out who sent Charlton that book! My art teacher opined that the sketches were very well done, and that he admired the painstaking artistry put forth on every page. People chattered about it on the bus... as I sat there, shaking my head... wondering and speculating right along with them... about who may've sent the book, shooting a warning look at the spy I confided in earlier that morning, to keep her mouth shut. Ahhhh, good times. While that was one of my favorite pranks I ever perpetrated, the funniest had to be in college. When Cat and I wallpapered the campus with fliers we made, drunk off wine, in the late hours of the evening, of a rather annoying and smug Italian exchange student, named Mauro. Complete with a paragraph... translated into Italian... about how he was lonely and needed some companionship... and that he was indeed the quintessential Italian Stallion... and then his phone number where he could be reached. Oh, I felt bad, when Mauro sat across from us at brunch, and lamented over the many prank calls he received all the week. And how he wanted to know who would do such a thing. It was all I could do, not to choke up my omelet, because the peels of laughter I successfully kept at bay kept trying to make their way up and out my throat. Oh, that was the day. Because we relished sitting across from him, watching him sweat. Or the time Cat and I trashed a hall director's (named Rumi) apartment, because he had been abusing his hall director's privileges and sneaking into our rooms, helping himself to CDs, food, utensils, and the like. Oh, we got him good. We booby trapped his door, and had New Kids on The Block's "Step by Step" (a classic), playing on repeat, as we watched from the shadows, him enter his apartment ... Man that was great. I came out of retirement to play that well-deserved joke. Anyway, Happy April Fools Day. Enjoy it!