Coffee Rhetoric: Beat
Showing posts with label Beat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beat. Show all posts

October 23, 2010

I'm Blocked: Weekend Ear Candy Edition


I've been afflicted with a horrible case of Writer's Block, much to my chagrin. In the interim, while I parse the reasons why I'm letting minor distractions cause me to lose focus, I've really been enjoying Nina Sky's new haute fashion upgrade and the latest single off of their 8-track EP (which includes a reggae tinged cover of The Cure's 'Love Song by the way). It has an Old-School, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam sound to it. I've also been silently crying broke tears of despair, because of this Etsy user's page, as I would like to order one of each of everything. ...
PeaceImages' 'Nuba' ring
Anyway, give me a minute or two... 

August 26, 2008

School's in Session

How do I know? Because, despite the fact that I took an earlier bus to work, I still managed to be ten minutes late. Seems my bus got caught behind a stagnant school bus's flashing STOP sign, every other block! And once the children are settled and seated on the school bus, you know the driver has to fucking sit there for an additional five minutes, just to spite morning rush hour commuters, and to go "nah nah nah nah nah nah" over the fact that traffic HAS to stop when a school bus driver's STOP sign comes out.
I also noted the young hellions waiting at their respective stops. Faces greeeazed up and glistening. Scrubbed of this summer's funk and muck. School uniforms pressed new school bags slung over their shoulders as they waited to be picked up... reluctant yet hopeful looks on their faces. One kid looked downright distraught. As if he weren't quite ready yet. Needless to say, I do NOT miss those days. While some students' start date is this week, others begin the stresses of academia next week. I have been and will be avoiding the mall at all costs! Nothing worse than the school shopping rush! Wall-to-wall bodies taking up every inch of the mall. Parents sucking their teeth at indecisive and petulant tweens. Teenagers cutting their eyes at their mothers for not letting them purchase those $200 Citizens of Humanity jeans. I'd rather wait my turn.
As far as the Condo I Covet goes, progress has stalled. Par for the course unfortunately. See, the universe and the forces that be, seem to have it in for me. Contentment, PEACE never comes sans attached strings! I don't have it that easy. Some people are simply lucky bitches, others have to fight, beg, and plead for a little luck. For a tiny break. For some good karma. So in the meantime, I'm back to pounding the pavement (so I'll have a back up plan)- until I hear the good (or fucked up) word. My sanity is contingent on my settling into a place of my own again, and having some semblance of stability.

April 12, 2008


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.

March 15, 2008

The Gods Must Be Crazy

Why must the universe remind me, once a month, for one long excruciating and uncomfortable week, that I'm a woman. More importantly, why must I suffer for that very reason???
I planned on waking up early, this fine Saturday morn, to attend a St. Patty's Day brunch (complete with mimosas) at my workplace, but the powers that be had other plans for me... and it involves throbbing delicates, bloat, sore lower back, and a cramping lower tummy. This is what my weekend will end up being like (see below)... hope yours is just as pleasant. Men you just don't wanna know. You've no idea at'all. That's it...

January 13, 2008


So, I completed the first full week at my new job. The people are personable, encouraging, and extremely helpful, and I look forward to working with them and actually moving forward and growing, after an extended period of time. Morale seems to be positive, no one comes in with pinched looks on their faces, and it's good to be someplace where there's potential to move up and learn, and the people aren't possessive, petty, rude, or conniving and actually foster a healthy work environment. Moreover and most importantly, I have my own workspace and have furnished it with two plants and a candy jar filled with sweet treats. It has been busy and there's plenty for me to do. I definitely hit the ground running. They showed no mercy and I quickly learned how to get into the swing of things. Fast paced is always good. On a stank note, I celebrated the completion of that week with a nasty case of food poisoning. Oh yes. I spent the bulk of my weekend vomming out the days' contents from my stomach, feeling hot & feverish, and sweating. I haven't eaten since Friday. I've only had water. My older sister made me some broth with brown rice. So in essence, there is no estrangement. It involves too much hard work and energy and I'm just too lazy to exert that much time and effort into something petty, and risk scattering my forces. I tried, but only lasted a few days. So eff it. Best to fight (like we frequently do) and move the eff on. I've two sisters and don't relish being out on the ledge all by my lonesome. No matter how much and how often we get on one another's nerves. I'm going to go lie down for a spell longer because while the worst of my ailment has subsided, there is still some gurgling and dull cramps in the pit of my stomach. Pardon me for saying this at the risk of speaking ill of a massive chain, but I think I shan't EVER eat another donut or drink any coffee from Dunkin Donuts ever again.

October 03, 2007

GodIS Help Me

I have the worst headache I've had in a long time. I feel as if my brain is trying to push its way out, through the back of my head. Oh yes. It's one of those days where you turn on your auto-pilot massive proportions, where the pounding is so intense, you sort of stumble to the side almost drunkenly, in your quest to walk upright and ignore the pain. switch, and the sudden need to be heavily medicated starts to plague you. It is a head ailment of In a desperate attempt to collect yourself, you prop yourself up against any available wall or table's edge and try to pull your 'ish together. You feign a weak "I'm okay" when someone stares at you quizzically and asks you if something is the matter. It's a headache so powerful, that it carried over from the day before, despite the fact that you medicated yourself (in vain) Anyone who talks to you about some petty insignificant thing, you want to scream, demand that they "Shut up!" Because they only make your head feel worse-- Yup, that's exactly how I feel today.

August 17, 2007

Delusions of Grandeur

I'm someone to aspire to or towards rather. Who knew? All this time, I've been lamenting over having the worst karma of anybody in the nation, only to learn that someone considers me a gem. See, this morning I lugged a backpack, my tote bag, my sunglasses, and a cup of coffee down the street. A balancing act I struggled to conquer and win. I fought to open and then put on my shades with one free hand. I finally had to stop in order to accomplish that particular task, because I kept jabbing myself in the eye and mouth with said shades' handles. Needless to say, I made it up the street to the bus stop, shades on face and coffee still in-tow. I won the battle. Not a drop of hot coffee seared its way through my slacks, burning my ample thigh. I felt triumphant. Anyway, two other men were standing there when I approached the stop. One of them greeted me (before telling his partner to "look out" under his breath so he would move out of his and my way so as not to er block?), "Hello beautiful, how are you this morning?" I responded by mumbling "Good morning" with something akin to a smile, but was more like a sneer. Either way, it sufficed. I stood a couple of feet away from the men, and because I'm not particularly fond of myself, I listened to my greeter talking rather loudly to his acquaintance (and also cursed myself for forgetting my MP3 player at work) ...
"...Yeah, yeah. I was wondering what happened to you! I didn't see you at work for the past couple of dayz! Yeah..."
I couldn't hear what dude numero dos was mumbling, because my ambitious greeter proceeded to hijack the discussion, blithering away rather boisterously. He continued...
"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm trying to get me a little something better. Trying to find me a job so I can get me a little something like that. (juts his chin in my direction) Here what I'm sayin'?"
*sigh* I didn't hear dude numero dos's response. I was just glad to see my bus making its way down the street. I honestly didn't know whether to feel flattered, amused, or disturbed. It's official. I have DOUCHE MAMA stamped on my forehead. No amount of exfoliating will remove it, or so it seems.

August 04, 2007

Fifteen Additional Minutes

So, I mentioned in a previous post that I got interviewed by Fox 61 News reporter Rick Hancock. Well, the segment is upon the web and I was conflicted about posting the link, because quite simply I'm a narcissist and my own worst critic. I always find something to pick apart and criticize, especially when it comes to pictures and such. In any event, you all (interested parties) probably have some semblance of an idea about how I feel about how I look and sound on camera. *ahem* I will admit that it is not as bad as I initially thought It'd be. I don't think I sound special like I feared. I do sound like I'm from Orange County or some such place, however. Not cool. Anyway, there's no hiding. The segment and podcast are up on the Fox 61 News site for the masses to see and therefore easily Googleable for anyone nosy enough to go through the trouble... so no amount of dragging my feet will keep my short interview from being seen. You all see my big mug plastered on here all the time, not to mention I promised I would link it. I'm a man of my word, so let me save your Google hand the trouble and offer up the goods. The podcast can also be found on the same site

May 25, 2007


This morning, I was running late and wasn't in the mood for the type of condescension and patronizing tone only a a passive-aggressive manager, on a power trip can administer. I decided to dip into the chump change sitting in my checking account, and withdraw a few bucks to catch a cab. I walked across the street to the train station, in search of one. I saw a group of them, hovered over a game of checkers right in front of the station, where they all line up, at the ready for passengers. When I approached, they all looked up, and one of them said, "Hello gorgeous!" in that nasty, old man/dirty daddy way. I muttered good morning, between sips of iced coffee. Another asked, "You need a ride?" "Yes, thank you" I said. I recognized him as a driver from before, and he recognized me because he knew exactly where I was headed. "The museum, right?" he asked. I nodded, as confirmation. A third driver held the door open for me, as I climbed in. I nodded and smiled to show my gratitude for his chivalry. The back of my neck was already warm from the hot, 87 degree weather. I rolled down the window for a much needed breeze. Dirty Daddy asked my driver if he could ride along. Driver cackled and suggested that he ask me for my permission. Dirty Daddy stuck his head in, and said "Can I come ride along with you?" "Why?" I asked. And then I said matter-of-factly, "nope" before he could answer and then proceeded to roll the window up on him. Right before the driver pulled off, Dirty Daddy tapped on my window... when I turned my head to face him, he pursed his lips and blew me a skeevy kiss. "Get me out of here." I asked my driver, annoyed and disgusted. "Sure!" he said, as he laughed and guffawed at his colleague's lame attempt at picking up a young woman. "Don't mind him," he said... "He's crazy and needs a wife." I shrugged indifferently, to show that I was unruffled.
To Dirty Daddy: Please don't ever do that again. It wasn't sexy, and you almost made me throw up my Turbo Ice. Thank you. xoxo Coffey

May 16, 2007


Dear Mr. Man (and I use Mr. and Man loosely):
Every now and again, I see you in the A.M. as I wait in front of the Holiday Inn Express downtown, for my bus to arrive. You're usually wearing a t-shirt that illustrates the fact that you're a street cleaner. Perhaps this is your chosen profession, or perhaps that's what a judge sentenced you to do for committing whichever petty crime you indulged yourself in. Either way, I appreciate the fact that you clean up the debris, ciggie butts, that you sweep away the hocked loogies on the ground, shards of glass, or what have you. I'm grateful that you're working towards keeping the city clean (even if it's something you may not have chosen to do on your own accord). I'm glad you do that, even if you slither by me lasciviously with your broom and dustpan, and croon in the slimy sounding melody: "How you doin'?" as your eyes dance up and down in all their prurient glory... Usually I pretend not to see or hear you as I hide behind a mask of dark shades and disgust. Sometimes I suck it up, choke down the bile rising in my throat, and manage to mutter some sort of terse reply to your greeting. Perhaps the last time you saw me, you mistook the slight twist of my mouth (in disdain) or the sneer for a sheepish grin because this morning, you ambled by once again, and this time you stopped... right in front of me, much to my chagrin.
" 'scuse me sweeth'a't, you know how to get rid of text messages in a cell phone?"
I stared at you, at once flummoxed and agitated... I also rubber necked past you, and noted my bus at the stop light just down the street. I considered how long it would take me to reach for my pepperspray, and any nearby police cruisers in the surrounding area in case you decided to try something stupid. I pondered all of these things, in the brief moment of space and time you asked me that ridiculous question, before sighing exasperatedly and answering "What?"
"I got a lotta text messages in my cell phone and I don't know how to delete them. You know how to do dat?"
I glared at you from behind my shades again, and then shrugged indifferently before replying
"Go to your phone's menu settings and you should be able to access the tools you need to do that."
I rubber necked over your shoulder one mo'gin to see what was taking the damn bus so long at that stop light! "Can you jus' show me, 'cuz I don't know how to and I got a lot of them" you said, as you sidled, uncomfortably close next to me and flipped open your cell phone. I stared at you incredulously and said, "ummmm, I don't think so..." Then you shoved your phone in my hand and said, "I honestly don't know how to delete them" and you moved even closer next to me, almost shoulder to shoulder... I stared up at you, annoyed by this uninvited intrusion on my personal space , your phone sitting loosely in my hand, me ready to drop it on the ground, when I noticed you staring down my effing shirt. I angrily shoved your phone back at you and moved away, the nausea and loathing working it's way back up my throat... luckily the bus I needed was making its way towards me. You? You looked slightly alarmed at my reaction... and said, "Uh, okay sweeth'a't... thanks anyway" and skulked off. I hope you didn't think I'd be impressed or happy by your behavior! Perhaps it has been a long time since you've sidled up next to a woman, perhaps my enchanting scent drew you in and made you practically dry hump my leg... in any event I don't appreciate it... and your lamer than lame tactic was pure comedy and more importantly, it wasn't cool. You were going down the right road, if you were looking to get maced.
xoxo Coffey

April 28, 2007

Bus Tales: The Tell-Tale Toofs

This past Friday, as I boarded the A3... en route to work I noticed it was more crowded than usual. Unfortunately and much to my chagrin, I had to be a standee. I turned and scanned the passengers, seeing if I could spy an empty seat... noting that a few jackasses were merely taking up seat space with their cargo. Shrugging, I decided not to bother and decided to be fine with standing. Now, I realize a lot of times when composing these particular tales, I relay just how unsavory the A.M. (and P.M. in some cases) smells are when I board the bus... the stale, wet potato chip, dank basementy, bad breath stench that swaths me in a shower of stank. Unfortunately I have a sensitive nose that's sensitive to unpleasant odors, and sniffs them out like a police pooch sniffs out hidden crack dens and marijuana gardens. Such is my woe, nothing was out of the ordinary in that regard hence, this bus tale lamentation. In any event, I pursed my lips and accepted the unpleasant wafts of b.o. for I knew I didn't have a long trip to endure. Suddenly, the bell tolled and several people got off in front of The Hartford financial/insurance company on Asylum Avenue, which left several seats free. I hurriedly made my way to a seat towards the middle, and plopped my ample behind and purse down behind a woman, wearing a grey hooded sweatshirt. Suddenly, said woman turned around... nose turned up her nose in distaste... looked at me and complained, "you smell like mint CANDY or MINT or something..." as she sniffed her dissatisfaction with my minty fresh ( and ripe for making out) breath! Startled, bemused, and annoyed, I scowled at her with my best "bitch please" look. She continued to leer at me, like she wanted me to give her an explanation as to WHY my breath smelled so minty, so early in the A.M. I pursed my lips as if to say "turn around" ... She did. I couldn't help but notice during this weird standoff that her breath wasn't so minty fresh, and I'm 110% certain I spied all of three teeth (or toofs) ... making up an macabre and incomplete grill.