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

July 04, 2009

It's Alive!!!!!

This past week, I have made valuable use of my time. I cut up some juicy and delicious fruit, I saw Corey Holcomb headline a comedy show, I hung out with a great friend, and I'm sorta doing some household projects... oh yes, and I'm looking for a new job because I got laid off Monday. Here's my word: Why is it when you're laid off, people retreat from you as if you have the damn Bubonic Plague or they tsk as if you're a charity case or on the cusp of needing anti-anxiety meds? Or they feel compelled to forward any and every job posting to you, not keeping in mind that you've got this?
I understand that people mean well, but I am doing remarkably well. I got laid off from a JOB. A job that wasn't my dream career. I'm being compensated for it, it happens to the best of us, I'm optimistic, and I truly believe in the old adage that when one door closes, a window opens someplace else. Perps, look around you! In case you haven't noticed, we're living in shaky economic times. It is happening universally. I'm not the only person in history who has been laid off. I am confident that even in these times, I will find a new job soon. I had been looking prior to learning that the organization I worked for was in dire financial trouble. I am not a charity case. I am not expecting anybody to pay for my drinks, look after me, or help me with my rent and bills, so you don't need to retreat or head for the hills. I'm not about to emotionally implode either so no need to avert your eyes away from me.
Oh, and if one more person says, "Awww, have you been looking? What are you looking for? You'll find something soon" I'm going to stick my finger down my throat and vomit on them. It has only been a week! Making me feel as if I should be feeling like a steaming hot piece of shit only makes you look ridiculous in my eyes. I have a caring family, who lives nearby and an awesome true blue so if I need to vent or need help with anything, I'm all set. Attempts at helping me and then questioning whether I know what exactly I want to do with my life is nothing short of condescending and rude. It's akin to kicking a person when they've stumbled and then holding your food against their throat while they're struggling to get up and dust themselves off to fight back. I know how this process works. You want to help me? Offer to provide me with a reference like other level-headed folks have already done. Treat me as you once did when I was employed. If you run across something you THINK I'd or would be a good fit... go ahead and forward it, but don't make it your personal mission to be my career counselor like I'm wayward and pathetic. It may be hard for some folks to wrap their mind around the fact that I'm doing great and that I am actually pounding the pavement, but that is my reality. I'm sorry if you haven't grasped that yet. And one other thing... you don't have to avoid me, because chances are I am stoked about never having to work with or interact with you again and you need to realize what climate we're living in. The folks that matter and who can appreciate how to network with me in a productive manner, have my contact information and know how to reach me (this includes those who want to hang out and have a great time as well). And to those who don't know how exactly to interact with me anymore... if I need your help or advice... I'll offer it to YOU.
That is all.

May 02, 2009

Casual Encounter

I love these random, casual encounters I come up against. Now, my friend says that I'm a"maneater" and a "temptress," who has left a trail of broken men leading from my door, but her opinion is born out of bitterness because she can no longer eat delicious cupcakes and cream sauces and I can. So her opinion is pretty much moot at this point and time and nothing can be further from the truth, but I digress.
I always find myself in the midst of foolishness. Whether it be a strange man wanting to take photos of my shoes to another insisting on removing his prosthetic foot at a trendy wine bar... I am a magnet when it comes to the bizarre.
This Friday was no exception. While leaving a diner, clutching a tasty pepperoni grinder, with peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, cheese, and mustard (former vegetarianism be damned)- a Mailman stepped back out of the way to let me pass (the aisle is narrow and my hips span across many nations and universes) however, I didn't think I needed that much space... but I thanked him anyway for letting me through.
"That's okay. I wanted to see how you looked anyway."
he said smugly. Both amused and annoyed, I hurried past and across the street back to work. Amazing. I am back on meat (for the past 3 years now) and am also a PIECE of meat to be appraised, judged, poked, and prodded. What clownery! Here's a thought... Instead of sidewalks and aisles, why not just make the landscape one, long catwalk for women to walk down... just to make things more convenient for you all? What a novel idea! (insert side-eye here). Men-beasts... you never cease to amaze this simple woman. The grinder was tasty by the way.

April 30, 2009

Bus Tales: Kindly Shut The Hell Up

Dear Ranting Woman on the 7:55 AM Farmington Ave/Downtown Bus:
Every morning, regardless of whether I want to hear it or not, when I board the bus I can always count on you to go off on some random, loud tirade about any number of topics. None of the dots seem to connect, no one pays attention or responds to you, but you sit there... loud and pretentious with your raggedy, discount bin Beauty Max wig on... hootin' and hollerin' about the minutia. Eyes bugged, mouth twisted as you "hmph" and "tsk" about welfare recipients, how you don't go to work to pay for lazy women who push out "baby after baby", what a great job you think former jailbird Governor John Rowland did implementing whichever program he deemed necessary, so forth and so on. What the hell are you on about lady???
Its barely 8AM in the morning! Many of us are caffeine deprived, harried from rushing out the front door, and chomping at the bit to get to work or to the nearest Starbucks so we can get some delicious, robust java in our systems. We are mentally trying to prepare ourselves for the busy workday ahead of us, but we can't concentrate on our thoughts because you're flapping your gob nonstop. You sit there with a book open on your lap, but never really focusing on its contents, as you run your pie hole about a bunch of trivial B.S. that none of us want to hear, so early in the morning. The banality of your ranting makes me feel uneasy, not to mention it irritates the hell out of everyone else. I saw that man sitting next to you, giving you the side-eye a few mornings ago. He couldn't scramble off of the bus fast enough, when it was his turn to get off. And what about the two women trying to carry on a convo betwixt and between one another, with their indoor voices? You just kept talking over them with your loud, obnoxious, deep monotone. A succession of doo-doo on top of stupidity. Interrupting them. They finally gave up and sat quietly for the remainder of the bus ride, their mouths in tight lines!
Two A.M.s ago, imagine my despair and annoyance when I couldn't untangle my effing ear plugs so I could drown you out with my music! This morning however, I made quick work of detangling and plugging in prior to the bus's arrival. I was ready for you! Lo and behold, as soon as I boarded, you started running your mouth and wagging your be-wigged head, talking about (to no one in particular): "I gotta try to put mahself in a good mood!! Gotta see if I can get in a GOOD MOOD this mornin'!" Lady PLEASE! My fingers could not push the volume button up quick enough to drown out your hot garbage. Also, riddle me this: Why sit there with a damn book open on your lap, if you have no intention of sitting quietly and reading, til your damn stop comes up?? Do you wake up in the morn, look at your dry, haggard reflection, and wonder aloud, "I need to figga out how I'm gon' annoy and disturb the bus passengers taday? What can I ramble on loudly about... Hm, let me see-eee" ???? Methinks you do.
Listen, shut the HELL up, because everytime you go proselytizing and preaching about whatever it is you deem necessary to yell about, you effing put ME in a bad mood, and I have to re-route and reshuffle my own thoughts prior to my arrival at work. I pity the fool co-worker who has be within earshot of your nonsense, because I'm sure your fuckery spills over off the bus and within the confines of your place of employment.
Shut it!
Thanks
xoxo
Coffey

November 29, 2008

Bus Tales: Black Friday

Oh yes. It is the return of Bus Tales indeed. I've never really paid much attention to the day after Thanksgiving so aptly dubbed Black Friday. See, while I can appreciate an excellent deal, and love sales more than the next spender, I'm not a shopaholic. In fact, I hate shopping and do it online in the quiet sanctity of my home, pants optional. I cannot stand large crowds or places where massive groups of people congregate, and so I avoid places like parades, festivals, strip malls on the weekend, crowded elevators (if I can), buses packed to capacity (sometimes I have no choice), and spaces of the like.
INTRO: Friday, Early AM- Late Afternoon
Yesterday, my sisters were up at 4:30AM primed and ready to go huntin' for great post-Thanksgiving deals. I turned over and went back to sleep on my mother's chaise lounge. As the day progressed, I rocked back and forth, going through cell-phone withdrawal, because I lost mine last Saturday. I felt discombobulated (I've grown so attached) and cut off from the rest of society without it, but I sat and lazed about... procrastinating over having to go out into this Black Friday world where folks were getting stomped to death by crazed lunatics trying to purchase $300 computers and being shaken down by sneaky perps lying in wait, ready to rob happy shoppers swinging their bags in the crisp, autumn air. It was late in the afternoon, and my sisters still hadn't arrived.
I waited. And pissed around. Procrastinated. Waited... before finally deciding to go shower. Bathed and freshly scrubbed, I still did eff all. I effed around on my mom's computer. I ate more Thanksgiving desserts, while web surfing and emailing folks back and forth. Finally at around 3ish, my sisters returned. Frazzled and spent. I slowly got up from the computer and shuffled around deciding it was now or never. I figured the bulk of the crowd had probably dissipated. My mother shook her head at my late start. I shrugged at her. Needless to say, the mall was besieged by manic shoppers, large baby carriages, and mischievous teenagers meeting to do who knows what. I saw the diablo in everyone's eyes. I weaved in and out of bodies, trying hard to duck heavy, swinging shopping bags... throbbing and bursting at the seams from marked down merchandise! I suddenly felt faint. Faces started to bleed together, eyes became large and black, no whites to speak of. I started to sweat in that hot mall and undid the top button to my coat. My kneecaps started to go numb. I knew T-Mobile was just around the corner and I hung on for dear life as I forced my legs to work at a feverish pace so I could do my business and get the fuck out of there.
Needless to say, the BUS ride to the mall and back was just as harrowing...
PROLOGUE
The bus was packed to capacity. I sat there in my seat as standees weaved unsteadily in front of me. Afraid that someone might fart in my face, step on my foot, or fall in my lap, I clutched my purse tighter. I put my leather gloves on. I took them off. One talkative guy sporting a plaid ivy cap, backpack and a limp arm (with a hand that had loooooong nails) who'd tried to engage me in conversation earlier at the bus stop about his early shopping experience, stood up front and ran his mouth to the bus driver (an attractive, full-figured, middle-aged Black woman) about a wide array of interesting topics. They included but aren't limited to: his taste in women, his dark side, how he was writing a book on numerology, philosophers, his temper, his aversion to spicy women and how they gave him heartburn, his preference for MILD women, more about his dark side, how he was a true artiste who had to go to school for it and hated anyone with natural talent and no passion, the 8 Guinness stouts he drank during Thanksgiving, a cat he had named Baby who knew how to doo-doo in the toilet and used to lick his face and massage his back, and subjects of the like. He went on and on.
Suddenly, I noticed a rather slight man running alongside the bus and then finally in the street, risking the risk of getting hit in the process. The bus driver cursed him before deciding to pull over and stop for him. Breathless and toothless, he complained about her not stopping initially... she told him to shut the hell up and be thankful that she stopped because she "didn't have to" and to stop "figuring" (he said he figured she didn't want to stop for him) and sit down somewhere. He kept muttering. "You're STILL complaining," the driver noted, in disbelief. He laughed, embarrassed at being scolded and squeezed up front with the rest of the standing bodies. I kept my eyes averted to the floor of the bus. Trying desperately not to give in to PSIS. The bus jerked forward, then stopped for a woman with a thick West Indian accent and close cropped hair, which she wore in a natural. She squeezed on and engaged the driver, the man with the limp arm, and the toothless complainer in a spirited conversation about Thanksgiving, the curried coat she said she'd made for herself, her divorce, and her upcoming Christmas trip to Jamaica.
"Oh, I wish I was going there!" the toothless man said excitedly. "Now Jamaican women are HOT!!!" he continued.
The limp arm man chimed in, agreeing. The West Indian woman chuckled with satisfaction. She turned to show her appreciation, unfortunately and much to my chagrin (because I'd been looking at the back of her head through the sea of standing bodies)- she was the exception. Weeell, the woman was attractive in that avante-garde Wandaesque (from In Living Color) but not as extremely fugly way, if you're into that, definitely no Grace Jones though. She had on a nice, stylish warm down coat, however and her accent was nice. She made her way off when her stop came up and bid the front of the bus revelers adieu. Still amped, the toothless man continued to cackle and talk about women with Limp Arm... suddenly an unused crack needle fell out of his pocket. No one seemed to notice but me. Due to my neuroses (read: keen eye), I always tend to note the minutiae. I was riveted and enthralled by the crack tool. I looked at the needle then back at Toofus. I looked across at a guy with black rimmed eyeglasses (and equally as amused by the cracktacular goings-on up front)- to see if he had noticed. He seemed caught up in the rapture of the conversation unfolding up front, so I don't think he did. I stared back at the crack needle. See, judging from Toofus's skinny build (he said he was 140 pounds during parts of the animated chatter), piss poor dental hygiene, and over excited demeanor I was 110% certain he wasn't a diabetic. He cackled, his body shook. He appeared antsy. Suddenly he caught my gaze, looked down and finally noticed he'd dropped the host to his lil piece of crack heaven on the floor. He hurriedly picked it up and nervously shoved it back in his jeans pocket without missing a beat. I smirked. This time he shoved it deep down, ensuring it was nestled and safe in the confines of his pocket. His stop finally came up, he quickly said his goodbyes and pushed off taking one last, brief look at me.
We'd finally made it to the mall, where I struggled and elbowed my way towards my destination...
Epilogue
The bus ride back to my mother's house was relatively normal until the bus picked up passengers from Vine Street, sometime after 7:20pm. One guy under the influence stumbled on, he stood up front fidgeting inside his coat picket. "I got my bus card driver, I ain't tryin' to get a free ride," he promised. "You can sit down and look for your card," the driver advised and lurched forward. The man stumbled up front, right across from me and next to an extremely large man in a red Salvation Army apron (one of the annual holiday bell ringers stationed outside major spots trying to raise money for the organization, no doubt). " 'Scuse me" Drunk Puss said to the man, who moved over, allowing Drunky more space. He continued to fiddle for his bus card. He looked across at me. I turned away quickly and closed my eyes. "Hey Miss!" I pretended not to hear. Kept my eyes closed. " 'scuse me, MISS!" ... my eyes stayed closed. "MISS!!" I finally opened my eyes and slowly turned in his direction. "I like your boots!" I blinked lazily at him. Disinterested. "They're so shiny, and nice, and full of goodness..." I turned away from him and closed my eyes once more. He continued to spout a bunch of ridiculous and drunk banter as he dug 'round for his bus pass... A man with a cane (who smelled like a booze fiesta) also stumbled on and plopped down next to me- (Liquor, meth and crack must've been marked down as well, because folks under the influence were out in droves). Drunk Puss was apparently familiar with the new passenger, stood up to greet and fell on top of the old man, knocking into my shoulder in the process. I sighed heavily, irritated, and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, and put my hand over my face to block the pain of this circumstance out. "Oh, I'm sorry!" Drunk Puss said to his acquaintance.
"I love you man, but not THAT much."
He found his bus pass and FINALLY made his way up to settle his fare. He plopped back down and caused some more drunken damage. Finally the bus driver jerked forward and pulled over to the side of the road. He switched on the light up front. Sighing and anxious to get home, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, annoyed by the slight delay. I heard the driver whispering on the emergency phone. Probably about Drunk Puss, to a supervisor. A preemptive measure perhaps? He sat there for about five minutes, " 'scuse me driver, is there a PROBLEM!" Drunk Puss yelled up at him. The driver didn't answer. "Hm. Should I get OFF??" he yelled. Someone from the back of the bus answered, "Yes!" Passengers snickered.
The resident drunk passenger finally stumbled off shortly after the driver took off, much to everyone's delight. I'm starting to truly understand WHY the day after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday. It is undoubtedly a dark, scary experience. I'm none too worse for wear, however. And am furnished with a new cell phone to replace the lost one. I did this all for technology. ...

November 26, 2008

Busy B

Ugh. I've been busy. STILL trying to settle into my new crib! It's in disarray and we simply CAN'T have that. Hanging up pics have been a nightmare. The walls are made out of concrete apparently and I've bent several dozen picture hangers attempting to do so. Now it's time for plan B.
I cannot WAIT to get the internet up and running in ma maison. La maison de Coffey. AND I lost my phone this Saturday and cannot WAIT to get it replaced TOOT SUITE (did I spell that correctly??). The details of how I lost it shall remain murky, for now. In any event, I had it deactivated, especially since someone found it in a snap and decided to start immediately texting to someone in Mauritania! I'm back to my poor bachelorette ways (not that I had any affluent or well off ones to begin with) and do look forward to gorging myself on free Thanksgiving food.
I shall return, and will update as often as possible in the interim. Bises. P.S. Read this

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.

August 11, 2008

Toxic

Today, the weather was this strange amalgamation of rain, humidity, cool air, and sun. While the humidity wasn't oppressive as there was enough cool air to present a healthy balance, I was overheating, however. I've always had a tendency to overheat, which is why my body doesn't respond well to any level of humid air... low, moderate, or high. I pick up on it right away. I remember once, as an adolescent, urinating and seeing steam come out of the toilet bowl. I was mortified. I thought something was terribly wrong with me! Or the one time, in high school, I tried to be a good humanitarian and donate blood to the American Red Cross... but couldn't because I had a temperature. I sat there for about 45 minutes eating free cookies and sucking down several small boxes of cold grape juice, a desperate bid to lower my temperature... to no avail. I still had a slight temperature. And the woman who took my temperature shrugged and said, "Sorry, we can't allow you to give blood." "But I'm not sick!" I exclaimed. Dejected, I shuffled out of auditorium, jealous of the people walking around school that day with I Gave Blood stickers worn proudly on their shirts. I felt like a rejected applicant from an exclusive club.
Today my body heat overwhelmed me. I sweated, I fanned myself, I splashed cold water on my face, stuck my head underneath the powerful new hand dryer installed in the restroom at work. Nothing. Seems the older I get, the hotter I feel. I am NOT looking forward to menopause.
Anysteam, while on the bus ride home, I sat directly in front of a woman who yapped on her mobile phone incessantly and loudly. Which only exacerbated my body's rising temperature- (perhaps this was psychological, but the more agitated I grew by this woman's intrusive behavior on my solitude, I swear the hotter I became)- I hastily stuck my ear buds in and turned up the music uploaded on my cell phone's mp3 player. I felt triumphant... until a warm cloud of toxic air wafted up front and bitch-slapped me on my left cheek.
Not only was the woman running her gob loudly right behind me ... but her breath reeked of a pile of hot, steaming shit. No other way to describe it. Suddenly the chocolate and coffee cheese cake I scarfed down from the Cheesecake Factory right before leaving work, started rumbling in the pit of my stomach and threatened to spew forth, like brown tidal wave all over the guy nursing his crutches in front of me. Fortunately I choked it down and held it together. Thoughts of Scwhepps Ginger Ale and hot chai tea danced in my head.
Finally Dragon Breath got ended her conversation and got off the bus. Those were the longest ten minutes I've ever had to endure.
On a totally separate and unrelated note, I'm interested in reading this book...

May 26, 2008

Argh!

Oh Jesus Christ almighty, Do I feel alright? No not slightly, I wanna get a flat I know I can afford it, It's just the bureaucrats who won't give me a mortgage, Well it's very funny cos I got your fucking money, And I'm never gonna get it just because of my bad credit, Oh well I guess I mustn't grumble, I suppose that's just the way the cookie crumbles. -Lily Allen, Everything's Just Wonderful
Apartment hunting is turning into an annoyance unparalleled. Even more tedious than hunting for a job!
I don't recall it being this much of a pain in the ass. I assume that the current economic climate we're living in has a lot to do with it. Personal experience and research has dictated that it's definitely best to rent from an individual landlord or privately owned buildings. As individual landlords seem more human than CORPORATIONS, who lower your FICA credit rating, apparently, every time they do a background check on prospective tenants.
Unfortunately, I seem to live in a sea of LEASING AGENCIES, saturating the classified ads and internet and who have made the process of renting one of their shady "luxury" apartments stringent. In fact JUST TO LOOK is a nightmare- As illustrated by one leasing consultant from an apartment complex that shall remain nameless, who tried to effing con me out of 25 bucks to LOOK at an apartment, notwithstanding the fact their website said it was FREE to look and that the credit check is what costs 25 dollars! I'm not surprised, considering all the negative reviews I read about said apartment complex on apartmentratings.com . Questionable leasing practices and dubious building maintenance seem par for the course, apparently. My prior history with a leasing CORPORATION has made me leery, but this experiences has pissed me off and left a bitter taste in my mouth.
These corporations want every thread of your personal information... this includes tax forms, your first born, two drops of blood, a urine sample, a strand of hair, and your dignity (which I'm struggling to hold onto with every fiber of my being)- because they've NEVER had to go through this process before, EVER. And so can't relate **(rolls eyes)** I also promised myself I also wouldn't go on a diatribe about the fifty dollars holding fee another leasing agency has YET to reimburse me, for holding an apartnemt I essentially didn't get afterall. Or that my phone call has YET to be returned, concerning my damn money!
The condo I MAY have rented sounded really promising, had I not been stood up on Saturday like a jilted date, by the woman leasing it. And who did not return my calls, when I phoned her to tell her I was very lost and couldn't seem to find the unit. Despite having asked several people, one of whom, unwittingly, led me into a sleeping pit bull's lair. Fortunately there was no violent show down and my limbs are still intact. I spent a lovely Saturday afternoon distressed, tearing up-frustrated behind a large, dark pair of shades (PMS no doubt), and stumping up and down the street hunting for my would-be condo. Alas, to no avail.
So the search for an apartment for rent, owned by an honest landlord who has some semblance of dignity and isn't a money grubbing asshole, continues. ... I know this annoying set of circumstances is happening for a reason and that when I DO finally find it, it will be a match made in heaven.

March 12, 2008

Par for The Course

Dear Elliot "Mr. Clean" Spitzer or Client 9,

The fact that you, as Attorney General of New York State, once laid down the law on a call-girl ring, locked up numerous people for corruption, money laundering and prostitution, and came down HARD on Wall Street executives is commendable. In any event, and without further ado, the call-girl ring leaders you busted and the Wall Street execs you chastised asked me to deliver a message ... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That's it.

P.S. the fact that you hired a high priced hooker and shamed your family are not what has people perplexed and shaking their heads with amusement. But your sense of entitlement, your arrogance, your perceived invincibility, your sheer daftness, and your hypocrisy are what reek of piss. I can't say I'm surprised though. Regardless of what team a politician plays for, essentially, they're all the same; Untrustworthy, sanctimonious, hypocritical, ironic, and inconsistent in their behavior. THESE are the reasons why people in NY and the entire Northeast think you're a douche of massive proportions. So big in fact, Summer's Eve should do a study on your stupidity. That's it.

February 15, 2008

... Didn't You Know This?

That wretched, waste of time and money holiday... the one that starts with a V and shall remain nameless, is finally done and over with.
I always find it amusing when couples wait once a year to do something thoughtful and sexy for one another, before settling back into the routine of being jerks to one another. I smirked on the inside as a co-worker discussed how mean and cold his siggy other acted toward him, prompting him to consider calling it quits over the past weekend, before she called apologizing... all sweetness and light. Bitch knew that V day was on the horizon, that's why. Word on the street is that he got her an assortment of lovely gifts anyway.
I rolled my eyes as I listened to the frazzled bartender at restaurant Hot Tomatoes, sitting in wait for my lunch as he complained about the dozens of reservations overwhelming the restaurant for the evening... "people don't realize, we'll be extremely busy and they expect to be in and out in like 45 minutes!"
"Call me jaded, but I don't understand what all the fuss is about..." I opined. "It'll be done and over with in hours, and couples will go back to clawing at one another's throats on the 15th. But perhaps I'm just saying this, because I'm single..."
"Yeah..." he agreed before throwing up his hands at the ringing phone and rushing to answer it... Another hopeful patron probably wanting a reservation, no doubt. And then there was that attractive, young, sharply dressed and perfumed Hispanic couple I passed on the street later on that evening, after clocking off from work... arguing en route to Hot Tomatoes, as girlfriend struggled in her pointy-toed stiletto boots, to keep up with her agitated boyfriend, as they stomped to their destination over melting snow piles.
Ask me how deep my scowl furrowed, as I shook my head at the tacky assortment of plastic hearts, pitiful looking single red roses individually wrapped and contained behind cellophane plastic (for a whopping 5 to 10 bucks a pop), white teddy bears holding red heart pillows with the words "I Love You" painted on the front, and other stupid bric-a-brac vendors were hoping to hawk to desperate last minute shoppers, who didn't have time to order that delicious (and pricey) flower shaped cantaloupe bouquet from Edible Arrangements.
The most infuriating moment, however? ... Walking into CVS Pharmacy and discovering every last bit of fucking chocolate... every box of Hershey's Pot O' Gold (on sale for $3.88) sold the eff out!! The inconsiderate vultures. I wanted to push the shelves over in blind, white hot fury, but instead purchased a pack of cellulose facial sponges, black liquid eyeliner, and gum and stormed out into the damp, dark winter malaise, in a moue of glossy indignation and disgust.
The bitter ramblings of a young woman, never having been in love and cynical about the complex maze of dating? Perhaps. Or maybe just realistic and an staunch advocate of consistency in genuine behavior and emotions, just 'cause... not prompted by some corny holiday, that dictates you should go broke buying someone's affections once a year.
This morning, as I made my way to the entrance of my place of employment I came upon a sad looking, red, heart shaped mylar balloon, with Betty Boop on the front... flirty and dripping hearts lying on the ground. Dejected on February 15th. The last remnants of the previous day already forgotten and only remembered to begin with, due to some overwhelming sense of obligation. Half deflated and out of place in the backdrop of a crisp, bright, wintry-white morning as people hurried around it, rushing about in long, black winter coats... faces grim as they clutched their oversized Starbucks cups as if the 14th never happened. Clutching my own dark roast, I stopped and looked down at it. I shook my head. That pretty much summed up V-day. I stepped on Betty's face with my favorite pair of calf boots and rushed in to start my day.
P.S. to the man whose phone number I accepted a couple of weeks ago, because I thought you were genuine... TEXTING a response to someone's voicemail message, after "hoping" that they'd call: "Thanks! Talk to U Later" and then following up by calling at odd hours: 7:30 AM as you're getting in your car (I heard you unlocking your door), calling and then hanging up sans leaving a voicemail, texting "Are U up??" @ 12:20AM on a week day are NOT the proper ways to woo someone for a date and is rather dubious. Been there, done that... and the shirt I have to prove it? I use it to clean around the house. Strikes one, two, AND three. You're out!

February 01, 2008

Bus Tales: Miguel

This Friday was a long and tiring day. I'm convinced that once Friday comes, we're put through the ringer on purpose by some antagonistic force, as a way to make us EARN the luxury of relaxing, after having made it through another tedious work week. The day drags on, there's one annoying occurrence after another, your feet hurt, headaches abound, and no amount of watching the time will make it go any faster. You're stuck. You simply must ride the wave until you're finally washed ashore, gasping from its impact. Speaking of washed ashore, it also rained buckets, like a pregnant woman does right before she gives birth. It was chilly, wet, dreary and gray. Making today even longer and more harried.
In any event, I got my favorite and most comfortable pair of boots repaired. Shoe repairmen and makers impress and fascinate the hell out of me. I'm always stoked when I go pick up a pair of shoes that I've taken in to be repaired at a relatively low price. It's like buying brand new shoes. Of course my favorite part of the transaction is seeing the satisfaction on the repairman's face, as you exclaim, "Wow! They look great! Thank you!" as he nods knowingly. In any event, I braved the element called rain to go get them. I simply couldn't wait until Monday. I wore them home. The bus ride home was equally as tedious, in addition to crowded, long, and wet... but oh so amusing. Let me explain...
A harried Hispanic man with is head shaved completely bald, clad in light wash jeans (very late 80's, early 90's), and a thin hooded jacket boarded the bus holding an open can of Coke. Rather than sit down, he stood next to the driver and directly in front of me rambling on in a gravelly voice... in Spanglish to the bus driver. The conversation went as follows...

"Mira! You goin' to Garden Street?" Bus driver (also Hispanic) nods. Then asks him in English where he needs to get off at. Agitated, the man then launches into some strange (and extremely comical) story about his roommate Miguel. He says some other things in Spanish before loudly exclaiming, "Man, I just got back from Home Depot! I had to go cash my check and go all da' way to Home Depot because my roommate Miguel, he left me with $1001 in back rent!!" He mutters some other things in spanglish to the driver. "My roommate just escaped from the convalescent home and everything and the cops came lookin' for him, right? The cops kicked in my door man! Lookin' for Miguel. I told them he wasn't here! They had the nerve to tell me I hadda pay a hundred dollas to replace that door that THEY kicked in!!"

Bus driver mutters something I can't hear because I've got my face buried in my coat, trying to hide my smirk. Miguel's roommate complains,
"I said, how come I gotta pay it!! I didn't kick it in! Ya'll kicked in my door and now I gotta pay?? Man, I went to Home Depot and bought everything I needed. I bought a new lock, the cement (or whatever he said) to make it hard... I said I'll fix it mahself! I paid forty dollas for all that stuff! I fixed the door myself!" They came kicking in MY door, I said Miguel ain't here. I live here. This is MY apartment. I pay the rent!"
"Yo, they kicked in my door. I fixed everything but the lock. THEN they told me I gotta pay fifty dollas to replace the lock!"

"You know, Miguel he's, he's 62 years old and he escaped from the convalescent home, and they lookin' for him 'cause they said he suicidal! He's got a lotta pro'lems!"

"Yo, so look... *insert more spanglish*... then Miguel had the nerve to come ova' to MY place, breakin' up my mailbox and shit... so I took pictures of him, you know, destroying my mailbox, then I beat his ass down! I kicked his ass!"
"I got arrested for assault! I was like, look! Mira! He came over destroying MY property, so you know, I showed them the pictures I took on my phone, of Miguel trashing and breaking up my mailbox and shit. So they reduced the charge to disturbing the peace! I hadda go to court and they just gave me a PTA (whatever that means) and that's all. But still. They still lookin' for Miguel. Alright man, gracias!"
Then he proceeds to grab his open can of Coke, flick his hood up on his bald head, hunched his shoulders in response to the wintry chill, and descended the stairs, thereby concluding the embattled tale of Miguel. ...

Fin

January 31, 2008

Diary of an Insomniac

Work, drop some Visine, keep busy to avoid nodding, moodiness, irritability sans reason, multiple bathroom breaks, coffee, coffee sludge, more coffee, water, hard candy, lemonade, vitamins, home, eat, tv, more tv, read, eyes wide open into the wee hours, close eyes for a couple of hours, wake up, channel surf half heartedly, fall asleep, wake up two hours later, massage swollen feet, iron out kinks in neck and back, shuffle to the shower, shuffle through the morning, rush to the bus stop, rush to work, Work, drop some Visine, keep busy to avoid nodding, high strung, sudden burst of energy, candy coffee, powdered lemonade mix, erotic day dreams, burning eyes, blow nose, eat almonds, drink more coffee, ... wine, coffee, coffee, wine, hallucinate, doze, wake up with a jolt, doze, watch infomercials, doze, doze... sleep, wake up 2 hours later, shuffle... doze... work... coffee... .... .... Visine, Advil, Pamprin, coffee, heavy lids, tea, news, infomercials, unintelligible, snooze button, thoughts wont be quiet. ... heavy lids... heavy. thtoughs. wont. be. QUIET. lids. thoughts... heavy lids... thoughts wont be quiet... ... ... pass out fully clothed, not having washed face. wake up at 3 AM, pajamas, wake up hour 1/2 later... heavy. lids. lids. SNOOZE, BUTTON, .. .... coffee. ... ... auto pilot. *yawwwwwn* coffee.... vit.a.mins ... autopilot.

January 19, 2008

Handkerchief Head Negro

Is it just me, or do quite a few Black, male leader types from the Civil Rights era have a lot of disdain for Barack Obama's run for the White House? Where was the disappointment when Condi and Colin joined the ranks of the Bush Administration and contributed to the downfall of our international relations and this country's current state? Anyway, this pastor says we young Black people don't have a right to vote or choose who our next President should be, because we're ignorant, have no substance, have amassed massive college debt, we're trying to "eat and date white" and we've corrupted society. Notwithstanding the fact that he sounds like one of the biggest, intra-racially bigoted, mark ass, ignoramuses yet. What the FUCK does "eating white" mean?? I'd love to hear him expound on that whole theory of eating white.

January 13, 2008

Moooooaaaaan...

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.

January 02, 2008

Brrr...

I'd type something profound and witty, but my finger tips are still thawing out. I also need confirmation that my nipples still exist and I've yet to feel any sensation. So I'm still waiting. Gives new meaning to it being "colder than a witch's tit." My brain was also on freeze because apparently, I walked right by my mother in the supermarket this evening and failed to notice her presence or her gesticulating in vain, to get my attention. This brisk, bitingly cold winter has also prompted my fat ass to swell even rounder and bigger. To massive proportions (as if that were possible). I purchased a pair of jeans today and almost broke a couple of ribs trying to fasten them. Hearty soups, breads, and desserts have a hold over me, apparently. I wont beat myself up over it though. I refuse to go there. Nope. I wont do it. Fughettaboutit! But I may do a black coffee detox (don't ask, I came up with this method all on me own. It's a very complex system and I'm unwilling to relay the details). My current wardrobe still feels familiar. It's the new clothes that are inhospitable, unforgiving, and complete strangers to me. Perhaps it's because the denim is "Rigid"? Excuses, excuses. I'd rather just suck it up, and buy the next size up than berate myself. They're great looking jeans. The weight fluctuates. I wish it and bloat weren't part of my reality, but they are. Nothing left to do other than pop another caramel, make some tea, and psyche myself up for venturing out in the even colder 17 degree weather tomorrow! Oh yes, and the dry cleaners effed up my warmest, Kenneth Cole goose down coat, so I have to add that to my list of random, insignificant, yet significant things to purchase anew. January, February, Maarch, April... pardon me... I'm counting down til Spring... Maay...

December 23, 2007

@!*!!

I blog alot about trying to slay some of my personal demons... but I honestly feel like up against a real, literal one that has decided to use my nose, ears, and head as its own personal condo!
I'm still in the throes of this massive sinus/head cold I have! I'm no stranger to sinus issues. In fact, I may just have a deviated septum (deviated septum = Hollywood actresses' new excuse to get rhinoplasty. P.S. What the hell is a deviated septum??). Anyway, self-diagnoses aside, methinks this is the worst sinus cold I've had in a long time! My head, nose, and ears are on effing fire! It's very uncomfortable, I haven't slept in about two days, I've thrown every thing I've had at it! We're talking heavy artillery! I was making progress yesterday. Everything started to clear out. I was in good spirits (figuratively and beverage wise), I could breathe freely, and I was relieved. This early morning (we're talking 3AM) I woke up, feeling like someone had poured acid in my nostrils as I slept. Now I can't breathe or taste (VERY unfortunate), my eyes are running, my gums are sore, I can't stop sneezing, and I'm very discombobulated. I'm typing slowly in an effort to cut down on grammatical erros and to formulate intelligible sentences here. We're talking THAT discombobulated. In fact, I'm so out of touch with reality that I actually sat there and watched Danielle Steele's Star on the tele. The WHOLE movie! While inside, I asked myself "why?" over and over again.
Ugh. Yes, I'm a whinger when I'm ill only because I don't get colds very often! But seriously, this is some serious bidness. It's like the demon was being pushed out of my system and on the way to the exit (blown out on a Kleenex basically) it caught hold of some rung or ledge, and is holding on for dear life... sharp nails and all. I just drank some hot miso soup for breakfast and downed some mango nectar (which has vitamin C). My goal is to have this monster slain by or before Tuesday!

Wish me luck. Im gonna go lay down and do some more whining.

UPDATE: The horrible force that has me feeling like a steaming pile of dog dookey, is called Sinusitis. Oh joy! "Nose irrigation" with a saline solution is recommended. Mine isn't particularly acute, so I gots it covered. Just sprayed some saline up the ol' nostrils. And I must say, it offered a bit of a reprieve from the intense inflammation.

December 11, 2007

Guilty Pleasure

I caught this video on the tele this afternoon. Is it wrong that I like it? I don't know. It feels right. Snoop looks like the drunken uncle, showing out at the annual BBQ, after a few jiggers of Crown Royal. All of a sudden I'm feeling nostalgic for Zapp & Roger's Computer Love.

This Is It...

I finally (and successfully) transported all of the essentials, and regretfully left certain other things behind (which is the worst part of moving because you want to take and keep everything you don't necessarily need anymore). Pay no attention to the beat looking mattress in the background. It served its purpose and I left it behind. Anyway, the whole process of packing up, moving, storing, starting fresh is a bit harrowing and exhausting. But one must do what one needs to do to move forward. I am anxious for what the near future holds, and will tackle every new challenge with fervor! While I don't relish having to move all of this ish onemogin, I'm hoping that the new dig I get will be bigger, more cost effective, and will prompt me to entertain more. While I wont miss dealing with my leasing company (my last year with them was somewhat tumultuous) and my high ass energy bill (I'm convinced I was also paying for the surrounding bars' and clubs' energy as well as my own), I will miss the drunken debauched seediness of my former 'hood, the convenience of living downtown, and the friendliness of many of my neighbors. I do anticipate moving as close to the downtown area as I can, however. I'm a constant fixture down there, so my presence will still be felt and known (to anyone local, who actually gives a damn about it). My muscles are sore, and while I don't know what I was built for, it sure as hell wasn't for heavy lifting of boxes and laborious tasks of the like. While much work and organizing still has to be done, I was finally able to decompress for a few hours today, and had some delicious Bubble Tea. While doing some serious thinking and planning.
I've decided not to bother entertaining any paramours or dates (not that there were any worth entertaining or caring about to begin with) - because I am completely focused on myself and my restructuring (I've also decided to commit myself to even more self absorbency and remaining aloof). Of course I will keep all interested parties abreast.
P.S. I attended a wonderful holiday party in the midst of all this madness, this past Saturday, and Anika Noni Rose's (Tony award winning Broadway actress and most recently from the film Dreamgirls)- daddy was there. He was very nice and not pretentious at all. The sole purpose of my relaying this story is to brag. That's it.

December 03, 2007

Unusual

This afternoon around lunch hour, I stomped down the street. The weather was frigid and rather grey and wet. There were slushy patches of harmless ice in strategic spots, on the asphalt. As I walked, I came upon a cluster of people standing in the middle of the sidewalk, spectating. Getting ever so closer, I saw a huge hawk in the crowd's midst... perched on top of a pigeon's carcass. Feasting and watching the crowd warily. As if warning them not to get too close. Not due to any hallucinogens or illegal substances, I've been known (in the company of me, myself, and I) to hallucinate or think I've seen something, that turned out to be a figment of my sick and twisted imagination. So I continued on with my gait... thinking lunch hour traffic had simply stalled for some ridiculous reason. Closer, I discovered the hawk was indeed, very real. At once mesmerized and intimidated, I made sure to do a wiiiiide semi-circle around the bird, as I didn't want to get too close. The people oohed and ahhed. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch!" One man shouted at the bird, as he left the crowd of spectators. One woman in a beat looking fur coat lit a cigarette and sneered, "Ugh. That's disgusting." I felt like reminding her that the food chain worked in mysterious, natural, and necessary ways, and that the spectacle was no more disgusting than her dingy fur coat and the heavy, dark bags under her eyes. But instead I just shot her an annoying look. Finally tiring of being the center of attention and having its lunch break disturbed, the bird spread it's massive wings, flew through the crowd (which seemed like the equivalent of flipping a figurative bird), and then up and away, causing the onlookers to gasp, duck for cover, and then part like the Red Sea. I wanted to pull out my cell phone and snap a picture of the anomaly, but was too chicken-dookey to get that close and risk being attacked by the large, winged creature. So I stood a ways from the crowd, and looked on from a distance. Anyway, I snapped a pic of myself instead and stole image of the bird from the internets.

December 01, 2007

Please Standby

I'm packing and getting ready to make a move... Restructuring and getting back on track is an overwhelming feat. Packing however, sucks more than anything that has ever sucked. I got rid of some shoes and still have too many pairs to contend with, so for the time being, they're all strewn in the middle of my floor. I've just been stepping over them. Which is a pain in the middle of the night when trying to feel my way in the dark, to the bathroom. Hopefully the very near future will bring welcome changes, a bigger apartment, and new opportunities, which I'll tackle with gusto! In the meantime, I've been killing myself packing and pondering what comes with, what's beat and needs to be trashed, and what goes into storage. I've also been looking into getting a post office box... which would make accepting gifts (hint-hint) a lot easier from kind readers. In any event, perhaps if I stop taking Bacaradi rum breaks, I could accomplish this feat quicker. Anyway, also enjoy this cool picture I took while riding down the street in West Hartford, CT. New England is a beaut, during the fall.