Let Jesus Lead Me and the Government Feed Me!

On the 92 this morning, I had a lively conversation with a woman about chocolate. She prefers chocolate ice cream to nearly anything else in the world and, quite honestly, I couldn't agree more. She looked up and saw this old guy who, presumably, she knew. She says "Hey baby! How you been?!" They made small talk for a few moments. She tells him she's job searching. He tells her: "I ain't lookin' for no job. I just applied for SSI. I'mma sit back, let Jesus lead me and let the government feed me."
Moments later, she asks what time of day she should call him. He replies: "Anytime. I'm still around. I'm still black, single, disengaged, and old- no baby drama and no baby momma drama." I actually asked him to repeat this so I could keep track of each adjective.

It's go-getters like him that keep DC running smoothly. That, and the lady the driver had to kick off the bus just moments before for cursing him out wildly and schizophrenically. She called him a stupid b*tch repeatedly.

Hold me closer, Metro Dancer

http://dcist.com/2010/06/man_dances_with_abandon_on_dc_metro.php

I'm only sad I didn't capture this gem before the DCist did.

Thanks, DC Public Schools, for making us so smart!

If I didn't see this bumper sticker at a bus stop in Southeast DC, I would just assume it was a joke, but I did so I didn't. What do you think? I mean, I supppose inmate of the month in DC Jail is a pretty competitive process, so why not brag?

Other great signage spotted on my commute this week? A clothing shop on H Street NE called "Unik Clothing." It features brands including "Blac Label," "Antik," "Luxirie," and a few other fantastically named brands.

Oh, and has anyone noticed this sign in the metro (I coudn't get a good pic?... It's like a mock dictionary entry:

Sumpnspicious: a supsicious package or odd behavior reported to bus driver, metro train operator, or metro police at 202-962-2121.

I paraphrased the definition, but not the spelling of the word. Or the phone number to metro police. I've got that one down pat, due to last years incessent message: " See it? Say it. If you see something suspicious on a metro bus, train, or station, kindly say something to the nearest metro employee. Or call the metro police at 202-962-2121." I'm a little sad that this message is gone. Remember the other one, "Is that yo' bag?" That woman was awesome. I also regret my inability to indicate inflections in the voice in my writing. I'll work on this.

Till next time, DC? Pay attention in school, kids. Learn to spell out "something suspicious." There are two separate words there. Learn to spell difficult words like "unique" or "luxury." Otherwise, you may find yourself competing for the title of "Inmate of the Month" so your baby's momma can brag.

My job REALLY is like the 92

Image here is an artistic representation of my life today. A random toilet with a crushed can of steel reserve in the bottom. Best part? Toilet is located on the sidewalk. 8th Street NE neighbors, have y'all been following the abuse to which this toilet has been exposed in the last few days? Why?!

Anyway, I eventually got to work to find that they will no longer be paying for employee health insurance. Now, we get to pay for it ourselves! How fun is that?! And what does it mean for the 92? Hopefully one more disabled drunk to adorn the speckled seats of the metrobus. Because no health insurance, coupled with no dental insurance means a set of rotted teeth complimented by an anger-fueled beer addiction (maybe I'll switch to malt liquor), no regular check ups, and best yet? No coverage for all my meds. Which means? You guessed it. Knocked up and drunk with rotted teeth. Aw yea. Way to go, anonymous-ish employer... way to use your values of equality and taking care of the poor to propel cycles of poverty while pushing newly poor folks into the "system." Way to use your voice of social justice to preach the need for no health coverage, while giving a raise to employees who are openly racist. Venting? What? Me?

Weaves, Protection, and Moustaches... elements of any girl's week

I'm thinking that maybe the name of this blog should be something like "seen near the 92," since that's where my material has been from lately. The day after I returned from my exile in Texas where I rediscovered the simple pleasures of hula hoops, starf*cker shots, and handlebar moustaches, I came across a chunk of weave right on the sidewalk by my house. The next day? A used condom. Placed neatly in front of someone's car.

Today, my friend CP submitted this jewel of a conversation that took place while waiting for the 90 in Anacostia, the birthplace of artistry, poetry, and wifebeaters on children:

him: you from the hood, aren't you?
me: um...not really
him: well, you work with people like me, don't you?
me: what do you mean people like you?
him: well, i don't like to say black cause that's ignorant. i'm not black, i'm human, we're all human. i'm adriatic. that's a race, not a color. like you, i wouldn't call you white, you're european, that's your ancestry. see, i'm a intellectual. we not all stupid you know. and we not all dogs.
me: who's we?
him: you know...us adriatic people. we have hearts ya know.
me: i know...
him: well, it was a pleasure meeting you. see ya around nigga.
me: what?
him: sorry, sorry, no disrespect. that just means i think you're cool
me: haha, ok
(he shakes my hand and then leans down and kisses it as i'm about to get on the bus)
him: you're gonna go home and sanitize that shit aren't you?

Gold. Pure gold, son.

These actually kind of scare me for very different reasons

"I'd chop his ass up and leave it on the flo'." -angry teenager by the x2 stop, talking to his overly affectionate girlfriend. Do you think she's extra affectionate because she's extra freaked out by his violent tendencies?

An interesting switch from the awesome hipster love fest I got to be a part of this weekend. It was a glorious caricature of a caricature of hipsterdom. The scene: the park in the super trendy Columbia Heights. About 15 people gathered on a a few blankets to share yuppie organic food and drink too much during the day. Serenaded by the ethnically exciting drum circle and random people practicing tai chi, yoga, and other peace loving and sexually provocative physical exercise, I joined a cluster of ironic mustaches, old man shoes, dark framed glasses and pretentious conversation about racism in America. Hipsters love feeling extra cultured and having ethnic friends, so the multicultural drum circle is perfect. I got an actual fist bump from the requisite black guy in the group (I warned you I was going to blog about you if you're reading as promised), and watched a few white people play bocce. This is not a joke. This awesome display of pseudo-intellectualism was the perfect compliment to some of my favorite quotes of the day: "You want some brie? I'm so high." And "Man, these shrooms are really kicking in. I can barely roll this." The latter quote was from a former cheerleader-turned-feminist with a "Feminists are hot" t-shirt. I participated in hula hooping with strangers, and witnessed someone longboard into the park with a huge iguana on his arm that hung out in the park for a few hours. As one of the hipsters in the group pointed out, puppies just became to mainstream. An enlightened chick will be attracted to a more exotic animal.

In short, it was like overheard on the 92, but for privileged white kids with anarchist/socialist views (I don't know how the hell that works but it does). It felt good being able to be a part of the hipster scene in their natural environment, but I felt frightened. Extra frightened when I felt like I fit in. Good thing I wore my chucks.

Thanks, C and H - I will always make fun of you, but had so much fun this weekend. Love y'all :)