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

May 03, 2010

Here I Go... Again...

Anyone who knows me... personally or via this virtual insanity... know that I am a Womanist and a staunch defender of Black women; and that I advocate us taking back control of our image and schooling the masses about what we are and what we aren't.
This year alone, there have been numerous "studies" ... articles and TV specials that obsessively try to get to the bottom of why I'm single. And having the resilient and tenacious personalities we do, many of us fought back... Sister Toldja's and Fungke Blak Chik's rebuttals being amongst those, rallying against the noise that undermines our femininity, our desirability, and our right to express our sexuality however we see fit. Their arguments were powerfully eloquent and spot-on. Everyone from White men to Black comedians; Russians to White women, seem obsessed with the mating habits of Black women. And Yemaya be damned if when we rear up and defend ourselves, for then we're labeled as bitter, angry, and hateful... with taunts of, "See?? See what we mean? See why Black women are single??!"
So why am I holding this seance, resurrecting this dead corpse again?  A little perspective on my frame of mind; I just finished reading Chester Himes' 'The End of a Primitive', then followed it up with a revisit of Charlotte Carter's 'Walking Bones,' and now have the nerve to be reading 'Wench' by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, so I don't mind going toe-to-toe right now. Observe...
While catching up with the goings-on of a favorite blogger's life, I was somewhat surprised, dismayed, and then pissed when I read about a conversation she had with her significant other- (they're both White with white collar careers).  The author of the blog didn't say anything offensive and usually logs very insightful, politically aware, and evolved posts... but her paramour... a captain of industry type who seems used to getting his way... didn't seem so progressive when he ranted against the (mostly) Black nursing staff (she's in the hospital) working the night-shift wherever she was recovering. It appears the nurses weren't keen on him staying overnight on a mostly female floor and reminded him that visiting hours were over. Annoyed, he opined that their sudden or perceived resentment toward his presence was due to them being angry, Black, and essentially bitter because they aren't the blondest or the fairest ones of all. And so they were jealous of said sick blogger... because she's white, blond, pretty, and well... because she has him to wrap her in his big masculine arms while she convalesces. And they'll never have that type of male sustenance in their lifetime. I won't offer a link to the post in question because I actually like her. She seems like a highly intelligent, honest, and nice woman. I enjoy her writing voice and I'd hate to be the catalyst who incites angry readers to chorus on her comments section. She seemed reluctant about feeding into her paramour's hype but, was equally as reluctant to question his rhetoric and obvious bigotry against and stereotyping about Black women... almost doing so halfheartedly so as not to upset him any further... which probably would've exacerbated the situation. She seemed - (an impression I got based on what she wrote) - willing to buy the rancid meat he was selling. I am not surprised nor did I expect her to jump to the defense of Black women or jump down his throat (since it is a relatively fresh relationship) and so am not disappointed in her hesitancy; particularly when you consider that her White female femininity was being elevated on a pedestal, which isn't uncommon- especially when being juxtaposed with that of a Black woman's. Here are some of the gems she shared when relaying the details of his angry rant- “Listen. I was married to a black woman for years.  I’ve spent a lot of time in many different communities. I’ve coached for years as well.  I lived and worked in and around D.C. for 10 of those years.  Outside the inner city it’s not so bad, but the black people in downtown D.C. are not fond white people. “
and --
"... I used to be come on to all the time when I was working in Northern Virginia you wouldn’t not believe it, sometimes I’d run across the street to get away from them.” 
and my personal favorite-- 
“I wasn’t going to say anything but a few of the nurses tried to catch my eye this afternoon. Two of them, at least. One of them even came on to me, and I mean she was BLATANT about it.  I just blew her off and kept walking. I couldn’t believe it”  ... 
"They all HAVE to know I’m with you, because I’ve been in bed with you since morning! I’m obviously devoted to you but they don’t care. They’ll just steal each other’s men, they won’t even hesitate. They.Just.Don’t.Care. Blows my mind.”
worst even-- “Trust me on this: With black women it’s all about the hair.  Believe me I know.”  <--(Um no son, you don't). 
So forth and so on. The entry left me speechless and angry. White (male) supremacy and propaganda at its arrogant worst. So now not only are Black women hopelessly single... but we're Jezebels without any scruples, who relentlessly chase men who're spoken for - (notwithstanding the high-profile mistresses who've been in the news lately) - have lost all hope in all Black men, and secretly lust for White men and all the riches they could shower us with, and apparently all of our self-worth is tied up in our hair. Such strong words from someone who was obviously upset because the head nurse opted to enforce hospital policy... much to his chagrin. 
As those two move forward in their relationship, it is my hope that my blogger buddy will encourage her lover to change some of his antiquated ideas about Black women. Stereotyping is a detrimental and hurtful process and it robs people of the right to share their truth.  It would be wrong of me to surmise, solely based on my own personal experiences, that all White men are pushy, psychotic, self-entitled, and racist. 
What his behavior within the context of that situation demonstrates is how the American White Male Privilege paradigm (which operates  to suit its own needs) is so easily projected when someone of his stature can't get his way and particularly when that privilege is challenged by a Black woman. I can't count how many times I've gotten grief from this type of White male, because I've either turned him down by refusing to play the Jezebel role he's accustomed to seeing in rap videos and reality shows or because I dared to challenge some ignoramus statement he made and that I didn't agree with. 
I like this blogger, but since she relayed the story on a public forum, with all due respect I, felt compelled just as publicly to challenge what I read in hopes that she can help her man get his mind right and hope she doesn't take this as a personal and malicious affront. Sans dialogue there can be no progress.
That is all. 

July 16, 2009

Order In The Court

I've noticed an annoying trend in courting rituals. One more small annoyance to add to the already difficult process of dating. Texting. I am not one of those self-righteous, anti-technology people who goes on boring rants about the evils of social networking, texting, and mobile phones. As annoying and impersonal as those outlets can be, I am very pro-gadget and technology. While it has it's cons, technology and social networking has made it easier to keep in or get back in touch with long lost friends, enemies, frenemies, and prospective employers. Many things in life have negative aspects to them... you couldn't pay me to travel back to the dark ages. Advancement in technology is not the sole vice or annoyance society has to grapple with. The phenomenon is only as stupid as the moron accessing it... which brings me to my primary point.
Men- (I can't speak for women, because I don't date women and many of the ones I know aren't this inconsiderate, but I'll be fair and say I'm sure they're just as guilty)- if you've just met a woman for the first time, made out with her, groped her, etc... and you've decided "Wow, I like her and I want to talk to her and get to know more about her beyond this point" and you insist... DEMAND that she give you her phone number... and you make a point of programming it into your phone while she's standing there, then CALL her. This texting bullshit as the FIRST official attempt at communicating ... "Hey sexy" and "wat u up to?" is nothing short of rude and disrespectful, and it's not a good first impression. Not to me and many of my friends anyway.
How do you expect to develop any type of rapport with someone you supposedly like... or want to hop in the sack with by TEXTING grammatically lazy phrases??
Behavior like this is vexing and agitating. Myself? I may give your brusque and short messages the side-eye, and after careful consideration, might even respond a few times. I may even give you the benefit of the doubt that you'll actually CALL and I'll hear a live voice either on my voicemail or in real-time at some point throughout the course of the courtship. I'll do you one better; In the past, I've responded to text messages by leaving a voicemail, saying "Hi," asking to "Give me a call when you get the opportunity." Which means, TAG, you're it! Your turn! Only to get yet another text in response, RIGHT AFTER I've left the voicemail! After a VERY short while, your texts WILL go ignored! Trust this.
I will flat out refuse to respond, assuming that you have no desire to actually TALK for 5 or 10 minutes, which is enough time to determine someone's personality and whether you want to ask them out on a date. I'll assume that you aren't interested in setting up a time to meet up and that you have no real interest in me as a person, and that you're only wanting to waste my time by playing electronic footsies with your cyclical, same sounding two word sentences. ... "Hey sexy. Wat u doing? Wat u wearing?" Level headed and tech-savvy folk in the know realize that "wat u wearing?" is code for, "send me a topless photo, and I'll send you a pic of my genitals."All before being asked out on an ACTUAL date for coffee or a glass of wine, because you'd rather wile away valuable time sexting messages like some sexually precocious preteen: "i want u so bad. wish u were here."
Listen, I text more than the next person, but I'm usually texting with people I KNOW. People I have connections with. People I also chat to on the phone. My close and best friends, my sisters, my mother, acquaintances I pal around with, someone I've dated, don't despise and have maintained a friendship with, so forth and so on and I'm not making an ALL DAY AFFAIR of it. If I don't KNOW you and am making every attempt to GET to know you within the context of dating, and you don't reciprocate that gesture, then you may as well kick rocks. And don't you DARE send me a message at 1:00 in the MORNING asking, "hey u up?" OMG!! R U SERIOUS!? How dreadful! Moreover, don't respond to my obvious exasperation with your thoughtless time wasting, texting : "I thought u liked me ???" or "It's just easier to txt cuz am on the run." If you're on the run, then BE ON THE RUN! How about contacting the person of your desire when you AREN'T "on the run" and have a moment to spare.
Look, I'm not one for walking down the street or going about my daily activities, jabbing at my phone's keypad like crazy. I understand that some people love it, but my thumbs get tired, it wears on my nails, more importantly it's distracting and detracts from whatever it is you're doing. As many people as I see running their pie holes on the phone while en-route somewhere, that "on the run, can't actually call" excuse is utter doo-doo. Texting sentences on a small keypad, on the run, seems like it takes more effort than talking to someone for 3 seconds to say, "I'm out and about, just wanted to call to say hi and that I'm thinking about you, we'll talk later though!" and then you hang the eff up. Don't ask for someone's phone number if you have no intention of talking to them. Get their email address instead if you want to type at them.
Cut this foolishness out. It's not a good way to connect with someone you supposedly want to learn more about. KNOW them first before you start texting them a bunch of nonsense. That is all.

May 07, 2009

Les Miserable: A Bus Tale About Peace and Harmony

Sooo -
These past couple of days, my bus rides to work have been relatively peaceful. Benita Butrell hasn't been on recently ... thank goddess. Very good, very gooood. Peace, serenity and... "You need to move your umbrella! If I trip over it I'm gwanna bus' you in your fucking face!!!" Threatened the West Indian woman who walked on all be-scarfed, red with malice and anger, to the the heavy set Latina woman... minding her business and plugged into her IPod. Me? On the inside, I'm like "whoa, whoa, whoaaaa Neeellyyy." Seems many of the bus passengers were exclaiming the same thing with their eyes. A relatively quiet ride suddenly disrupted like a sunny picnic by a bolt of lightning with thunder.
Let's rewind.
This morning was a wet, gloomy rainy one. I recall boarding the bus with relative ease. I didn't trip, I didn't have to step over anything. I sat across from the Latina woman, whose small, purse sized umbrella (of the Totes variety) was nestled tightly on the floor, wedged between her feet. Out of the way, inconspicuous and damp.
I boarded... okaaaay, Regular Joe Schmoe boarded... ooookaaaay.... Young woman boards sans any probs.... ooookaaaaay.....
Angry Jamaican woman boards. NOT okay. She gets on with no apparent problem and sits her ass down. Then suddenly she yells from her seat, in her heavily accented voice- "Your umbrella is on the floor!"
The Latina is looking away, calm and bobbing in time with her music. "Your umbrella is ON THE FLOOR." Crazy yells! Still no response. Finally the Jamaican woman gets up out of her seat, taps the Latina woman on her arm frantically and yells, "I said..."
"I know it's there." the Latina woman answers calmly without unplugging her music, and casually turns away.
"WELL YOU NEED TO MOVE IT BEFORE SOMEONE TRIPS OVER IT!!! IF I TRIP OVER IT, I'M GONNA BUS' YOU IN YOUR FUCKING FACE!!!!!"
The Jamaican woman yells from her seat. The Latina shrugs at her and continues to enjoy her music.
"YOU NEED TO MOVE THAT UMBRELLA BEFORE SOMEONE TRIPS YOU STUPID BITCH!!!!"
Latina casually turns to the woman and says, "No one will trip. You see it when you get on."
"WHAT BALLS. WHAT A STUPID BITCH" THE Angry Jamaican yells. "Whatever." said the Latina casually. With that, she calmly got up and off at her next stop. I felt like saying to El Pollo Loca, "Bitch be COOL, you're sitting down already, and your crazy ass didn't trip, What the Bombaclaat?? DAMN." But just scowled in her direction instead.
What the HELL? What on earth provoked that unwarranted attack? See, I had my tote bag on the floor of the bus, out of the way, tucked in-between MY feet. What if she decided to direct her venomous, hot garbage at moi? I really commend the Latina woman for her casual indifference. I reeeeally do, because some people simply ask for it. They BEG and PLEAD for it.
What prompts folks to wake up in the early morn and decide to spew their misery onto others??? And so early, pre-coffee. The NERVE!
Anyway, check out this Interesting blog post about about a man's vow to wait 6 months before he kisses a woman. She may have to resign herself to using creams, jellies and toys.

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

January 03, 2009

M.Y.O.F.B. or Waiting for WALK

I trust that everyone had a productive and safe New Year's Eve and Day. Mine was quite interesting... fun but very interesting. Someone offered to stick his tongue in my ear and suck on my left breast for an extended period of time before switching to the right one. I, being the classy woman that I am, politely declined, but not before laughing hysterically in his face. Hopefully this year wont leave as many battle wounds as 2008 left. I shall start this year off the right wrong way, with a rant that's been brewing in the vault of my angry soul for some time now. It's about certain types of people who should be kicked in the delicates for not minding them and theirs. I call them unofficial and unwelcome crossing guards. Reckless pedestrians who have the huevos mas grandes to get angry at other responsible pedestrians for waiting for the right of way to cross!
I can't count how many times I've had to snap at, give the side-eye and or finger to people who deem it necessary to school me on how to cross the street, because I choose to wait for the effing WALK signal before stomping carelessly across with reckless abandon. Pardon ME for doing what I think is necessary for my own survival and safety! I've had men stand next to me and exclaim, "GO! You can cross now, GOSH!" while I waited for the street signal for me to WALK. "I know how to cross the (insert expletive) street!!!" I've often spat in their direction, prompting them to throw their hands up in exasperation at my refusal to be bullied out into the middle of the road before it's time.
I even had a police officer, buffalo stancing close by tell me to "Go ahead!" once while I waited at the crosswalk downtown. The light was green and traffic was busy and steady. After work rush hour travelers from every direction! "I'm waiting for the WALK signal!!" I yelled back at him, annoyed. "I'm in charge! No one's gonna hit you while I'm standing here!!" he yelled back. I simply sucked my teeth, rolled my eyes and waited for WALK. What could he do? ARREST me for waiting for the WALK signal??? Just yesterday, a gentleman and I were waiting at a particularly busy intersection, also downtown for the signal to WALK. A young mother who carelessly (without looking) strode out into the middle of the street with her young son in tow, nonchalant about just missing getting hit by an impatient turner had the nerve to say to us impatiently, "You can gooooo, the light's reeeed." The man cut his eyes at her and waited. I in my large shades lifted my leather gloved finger and gave her a signal of my very own. She rolled her eyes, but got the hint nevertheless. I could not have made myself any clearer.
What the EFF is it with you people?? Does seeing others wait for the WALK signal really get under your skin that much, that you feel it absolutely crucial to be obnoxious and rude about something that essentially, has no impact on you and the choices you decide to make?? Mind your own EFFING business! If you want to carelessly take off across a busy street sans a care in the world and risk getting creamed, that's your right. I prefer to wait for the WALK signal before deciding to cross. So if watching me waiting for the WALK signal agitates you so, then get over it.
Kisses
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. ...

May 09, 2008

This Little Bird's Coming Out of It's Nest

Dear What'syourname,

I thought it over for the briefest of moments... a very brief moment. As I sit here, even now, munching on Cherry Berry Nut Mix, interrupting my red wine thoughts to ponder your proposition... the answer is fat chance. I don't think so. Absolument pas! Nunca! Aller merde vous! Basically the totality of my final answer is the equivalent to No. But thank you anyway... which is an unequivocal and emphatic, Not in this lifetime... ever again. Have a great weekend though... sans moi.

xoxo Coffey

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 ...

January 26, 2008

Personal Space Invasion Syndrome (PSIS)

I've been documenting the crazy on here since about 2004. I think regular readers (assuming people have been following this blog for that long)- probably are hip to the fact that I am a self-described neurotic with a smattering of germaphobia and a dollop of obssessive behavior (i.e. where I place items in my personal space matters, as I insist things be placed a certain way, and that they're neat and organized). And while this much I know is in fact true, my quirkiness has not prompted any need for prescriptions used to combat any anxiety or psychotic episodes. In summation, I'm a relatively normal person- (considering the levels of actual weirdness festering out there)- who is slightly askew. I pump a celebratory fist at my eccentricities and don't plan on changing any time soon. No one's infallible. And for those acting like they are... you all need to cut it out. The prologue aside, if there's one thing I cannot stand, it is when people (particularly those not close with or familiar to me) invade and tamper with my personal space and belongings without my permission. Close talkers (if I back up a couple of inches... please don't move forward to close the already small gap)- If you don't come in a wine glass, we aren't about to kiss, or about to engage in relations... there's no need for anybody to be 2 inches away from my mouth, beyond the standard (6 to 8 sq ft), conversational closeness. I think violating someone's space; adjusting and taking other people's things without asking is rude, discourteous, and disrespectful... particularly if you're the type of person who resents having your things tampered with and especially if it's within the context of a communal (i.e. work) environment, where the majority of the space is already shared, to begin with. It's almost as if certain people feel as if they're entitled to behave this way, or they have the right to impose their tastes by strongly suggesting a person should rearrange things to look a particular way other than how they choose have it set up. I mean, you listen and humor people afflicted with PSIS by saying, "Oh okay, that sounds nice. But I think I'll just leave it like this" and they're adamant about trespassing, like an uninvited guest who insinuates him/herself into your home, rearranges the furniture, and uses your toothbrush! You can see their sweaty fingers and palms wiggling with the desire to touch your stuff. To rearrange, to fix and fuck everything up... making you ready to sling some pimp slaps. These people, who like to stand shoulder to shoulder, toe-to-toe... so close that you feel a little of their spittle spray your face during conversation. Making you shudder with disgust, also prompting you to tap your foot uncomfortably, to swallow hard, and blink furiously to keep from going nuts. People, listen, regardless of how crazy this rant may seem, this type of bahavior is definitely a spatial DON'T. I think we've gotten too comfortable in this current cult of personality. Manners are a thing of the past. We live in a culture that divulges TMI about bowel movements, itchy delicates, and explicit sexploits (some great to listen to, some not so sexy), where people will grope, expose themselves or rub up against strangers, and where people think it's okay to invade... to bully their way into someone else's orbit, scattering forces messing up the alignment of your small planets. All it does is create tension, anger, and more neuroses to grapple with. How difficult is it to be respectful of other people's space and property? It's not. Some concepts are fundamental and implicit. So back the hell up and keep hulking figure and hands off of other people's sphere, unless invited. That's it.

December 17, 2007

I'm engrossed

... so please standby, and watch M.I.A.'s new video in the meantimez...

November 26, 2007

Shut up and Drive

Last Tuesday evening, at the last minute, I decided to take a cab to my mother's house. Evening cab rides tend to be a little more tedious for me than those ridden during the A.M. hours.
The crazy, dysfunctional, trashy, lecherous, or geographically challenged drivers always shuttle me to my destination during the witching hour. And such was the case that night. He went on a looong diatribe about how he kicked weed, ciggies, and the sauce a looong time ago at his mother's urging. "I'm in my mid forties now," he said with a slight accent.
"I used to smoke weed aaaaaalll the time and drink a 6 pack every night. Then my mother said I needed to stop doing that. I did a lot of that in my twenties. When I was like 27 or 28. Now I haven't done that for 10 years. I don't drink at all"
"Oh" I said with dry enthusiasm as I stared out at the frigid inkiness. Considering he said he was in his mid forties, the math seemed a bit off, but whatever. I'm guessing he had a toke or a nip between his late twenties, mid thirties somewhere. In any event, I glimpsed his profile in the dark cab, noting a flash of yellow eye white thanks to a little bit of light streaming in off the slick street...
"She told me that sometimes I just need to listen to her. And I did. You know what else I did?"
I pretended not to hear the question, so I didn't answer... wrapped up in my own thoughts and need to get back on track. "You know what else I did?" he asked again. I sighed, "What?" I managed, dryly.
"I stopped hanging out with the old friends. I discovered they weren't my friends, because when I stopped smoking and drinking, they didn't want to talk to me anymore."
"Oh" I said. "That's good. Um, that you dropped your friends." I managed, rolling my eyes ... hidden by the shadows in the backseat.
"Do you drink?" Wanting the anti-vice proselytizing to end, I said with mock enthusiasm "Yup! Sometimes!" wishing for a flask filled with something potent to burn my chest, at that moment.
"I don't mind if people drink sometimes and wanna smoke. But I don't do it anymore."
"Oh" I said... dry.
"Do you smoke weed?" "I don't do drugs." I replied.
"Oh, that's good!"
"Are you cold?"
*sigh* "No. I'm fine."
"Oh, you're a real woman! Real women don't get cold!"
no answer... I merely jerked my shoulders in a careless and tight shrug.
"How do I keep from getting cold?" "What?" I asked, distracted and annoyed.
"How do I keep from getting cold? I'm still cold. And I am getting sick too."
*sigh* "Perhaps you should dress in layers and try wearing gloves. I dunno." I answered, spying his exposed hands on the wheel. I turned my gaze back toward the window, scowling. Once again annoyed at his intrusion into my Cabbies-should-be silent-and sans mindless-chatter-so-the- passenger-can think-time.
"So yes, I think it's good that you don't smoke weed. I think it looks horrible when a woman smokes. To see a woman rolling a joint or smoking a cigarette makes me think she is trash. And I wouldn't want her to be my girlfriend. I don't think it's appropriate for women to roll a joint. Do you agree?"
"It's not my place to be dictatorial to people. I think it looks tacky seeing anybody rolling spliffs." I opined.
"No" he said, "I'm not preaching, but it looks sooo tacky for a woman to be rolling a joint! Don't you agree? I don't wanna be with a woman like that."
*No answer* Shoulders jerk with a tight shrug once again.
"How do I find happiness?"
"Wha-at?!" I asked... my eyes darting over in his direction. Perplexed by this rather Special Ed-ish question.
"How can I be happy?"
I considered suggesting that he get back on the junk. Along with all the other mind altering vices he claimed to've given up, because he was being a reeeal drag during this cab ride. But instead I just shrugged and said, "I don't know. That's up to you to discover on your own."
"I have money. A place to live. A job. But I still can't figure out how to be happy."
"Drink harder booze, chain smoke, and pop anti-depressants" was riiight on the tip of my tongue. But I just shrugged.
"Maybe I could go on vacation. Take a vacation for like two weeks."
"Yup, sounds great. Umm, can you take a left here please."
And so he did. I perked up, glad that our rap session was coming to an end. "Thank you very much" I said as I handed him the fare.
"Thank you. It was nice talking to you." he said.
"Um hm." I answered, as I scrambled to get out of the car quick, fast, and in a hurry. "Take your time" he suggested. I got out with fervor.
"Byyyye" I waved as I ran up the wet driveway, afraid of being engaged 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.

October 01, 2007

Where I Converse with Myself

Dear Self,
You drink massive amounts of coffee and water. And you have somewhat of an overactive bladder, particularly during those pre-menstrual days where ten times on the hour, every hour seems pretty typical. Par for the course, especially this past week and then today. You are aware of this, self. So why? WHY did you think it was a wise idea to wear your black, pin-striped high-waisted, nautical pants?? 12-plus buttons to fiddle with. Self, your fingers seem awkward and big, when you're making that mad dash into the loo, to get to the bog pan in time to avoid an embarrassing situation that'd send you home early. Fingers don't seem to want to cooperate and you're tempted to just yank down the flap of your trousers, sacrificing all 12 plus buttons. But you clench those kegels-- along with all the other muscles south of the border tightly, to keep from regressing back to your years as a toddler. Sometimes it just isn't practical for one to enslave her (or his) to fashion.

September 08, 2007

Ummmmm....

It's about 9AM. Do you know what your small, wide eyed, and impressionable child is up to? I'm scared. I'm gonna go rock back and forth in a corner now. Or, I can just go ahead and learn how to do "The Harry." Methinks I just spied me some potential future video vixens.
P.S. Did that kid in the back, just do the brokedown robot?? Fascinating!

December 01, 2004

Um, Nope.

Much has gone on before and since Thanksgiving. Other than me gorging myself on good, homecooked cuisine courtesy of my mum, and a few other bizzaro incidents, nothing huge to relay here. I decided to attend the staff Chrismus bowling shindig, afterall. Hey, free food, why not. I figure, I don't have to bowl nor do I have to stay long. I'm sure it will be fun. I may be able to laugh at the weird antics of some of my co-workers if anything else. Speaking of co-worker, a couple of weekends ago, I went out (boozing) with one. She called me up one Saturday and said she simply had to get out of the house. She is a single mother... 3 kids, so I understood why. Upon her arrival, she was in awe of my bachelorette pad and said that she "missed all of this." I think people, particularly married ones with children, tend to think that single women and men live carefree lives full of sex, booze, and punk rock'n'roll. While the middle of this equation may or may not be true for some of us, single people are not running around having unlimited amounts of sex. I know I'm not (I wouldn't mind it though). We are not a bunch of wild hedonists running willy nilly with our clothes off and shit. Speaking for myself, I know that while I'm fortunate to have my own crib and to be self-reliant and totally independant, dating can be a downer. It is so difficult to date nowadays. Weeding out the assholes from genuine dudes can be exhausting. I've pretty much given up and have decided to abstain (this time I mean it) from making out, sex or any other forms of intimacy until the guy proves to be genuine and serious about his intentions. I am sick to death of dealing w/ obnoxious, wanna-be player, jerks who think chicks should just be happy to have them around. Um, no, sorry. Also, just because I enjoy living alone and engaging in social activities... alone, doesn't mean I'm lacking in anything! People (other women in particular) are all like, "aww, you're single and live alone?... you'll find somebody." Whatever. Did it ever occur to those same women who stuff their feet in their mouths, that I enjoy being single and relish taking my time before I delve into something that just isn't for me, headfirst? Yes, dating is difficult (particularly if you stumble upon a married man who lies about being married) ... but save your sympathy... it's not needed. I have an impenetrable, NO TOLERANCE policy for bullshit and will be even more steadfast in enforcing that rule, if I start dating consistently again. If I don't find someone to date consistently, that's fine too. So no, the lives of singles are no more easier than the lives of marrieds and single parents. I get stressed out about the trials and tribulations of life just like they do. I resent them saying I have it so easy. Because I don't.