"You gon' have to go to court for stabbing me, motherfucker." -said calmly and sternly by a young woman to her male companion on the x2 this morning. Said woman was holding the hand of a toddler. Is it a problem that I hardly found this comment blog-worthy? Am I running out of material from over-stimulation?
The following exchange also happened this morning outside the Rite Aid where I went to get my Monster energy drink fix.
Older, disheveled, drunken man stumbling off the bus: "Hey miss - can you help me out?"Me: "What do you need help with?"
Man: "Will you marry me?"
Me: "Haha.Ha."
Man: "Seriously... will you marry me?"
Ah, H Street. It does wonders for a gal's self esteem .
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Puttin the Man in Romance
Last night on the x2, I was spying (because, clearly, that's what I do) at this girl's facebook update in front of me. She types on her phone: "I don't understand why someone would have the nerve to come up and sit next to you when there are a thousand seats, and then have the nerve to by stinking, and then to top it off be a female." Pretty girl then opens the bus window and spits on the ground disdainfully. The next time she checks her phone, her message reads: "Well, Safe Sex is Great Sex. So Use a Latex." Sound advice. I then felt guilty spying so much, so I forced myself to look away.
This was not difficult, however. An entire corral of crazies came on the bus. It was so weird... just like Dawn of the Dead. People's vacant stares, blistered skin, lips parched as if they're coming from the desert, scratching their skin violently, blinking eyes hard as if to clear blurry vision. The corral (I'm serious - like 10 people) included 3 kids who wandered in carrying school books in plastic grocery bags with no sign of parents or responsible parties in the mix. I spent the whole way home wondering where they came from!
This morning, also on the x2, I saw a ~50 year old thuggish looking man buried thoughtfully in a book. Of course, this is a huge anomaly in conflicting stereotypes, so I had to see what he was reading. The book was called: God's Gift to Women: How Much is One Night of Passion Worth? I loved it! Who knew guys read romance novels? I always thought literotica was geared towards women because dudes like pictures more... I thought wrong! Anyway, hopefully I'll see more people in long chains engrossed in romance novels.
This was not difficult, however. An entire corral of crazies came on the bus. It was so weird... just like Dawn of the Dead. People's vacant stares, blistered skin, lips parched as if they're coming from the desert, scratching their skin violently, blinking eyes hard as if to clear blurry vision. The corral (I'm serious - like 10 people) included 3 kids who wandered in carrying school books in plastic grocery bags with no sign of parents or responsible parties in the mix. I spent the whole way home wondering where they came from!
This morning, also on the x2, I saw a ~50 year old thuggish looking man buried thoughtfully in a book. Of course, this is a huge anomaly in conflicting stereotypes, so I had to see what he was reading. The book was called: God's Gift to Women: How Much is One Night of Passion Worth? I loved it! Who knew guys read romance novels? I always thought literotica was geared towards women because dudes like pictures more... I thought wrong! Anyway, hopefully I'll see more people in long chains engrossed in romance novels.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
How Now Brown Cow
"Brown cows are boy cows. Duh." -7 year old boy on the metro, in response to his little sister's question of the difference between black and brown cows.
"They make me run faster, they make me walk better, they make me taller, and they're comfortable." - same kid a few moments later, describing the obvious superiority of his spankin' new Asics. They were pretty cool.
Now that I have a new job, I get to ride the x2 both ways, every day. I expect endless stories. This morning, I sat next to a girl who sobbed to her friend on her cell phone for 10 blocks. From what I could tell, her boyfriend had eaten some of her mother's fettuccini, thinking it was hers. And the boyfriend (maybe it was a male roommate - I couldn't tell) was ridiculous because she "eats little things, not a whole meal like that." Drama!
Also, my old boyfriend in Southeast referenced in my last post? He was a barber. This is significant because there is a barber that stands at 7 and H where I catch the x2 in the mornings, every morning. He looks me up and down and asks if my ankle is doing any better. I wonder... if I bat my eyelashes could I charm him into being my rebound morning commute boyfriend? I'll work on it.
"They make me run faster, they make me walk better, they make me taller, and they're comfortable." - same kid a few moments later, describing the obvious superiority of his spankin' new Asics. They were pretty cool.
Now that I have a new job, I get to ride the x2 both ways, every day. I expect endless stories. This morning, I sat next to a girl who sobbed to her friend on her cell phone for 10 blocks. From what I could tell, her boyfriend had eaten some of her mother's fettuccini, thinking it was hers. And the boyfriend (maybe it was a male roommate - I couldn't tell) was ridiculous because she "eats little things, not a whole meal like that." Drama!
Also, my old boyfriend in Southeast referenced in my last post? He was a barber. This is significant because there is a barber that stands at 7 and H where I catch the x2 in the mornings, every morning. He looks me up and down and asks if my ankle is doing any better. I wonder... if I bat my eyelashes could I charm him into being my rebound morning commute boyfriend? I'll work on it.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
My Anacostia Boyfriend
So after quitting my job recently, I got a fantastic report from my former co-worker about the state of the neighborhood in my beloved Anacostia. This story took place by the bus stop, hence its place here.
A little background... boyfriend below stands about at my shoulder height, and is probably 50-60 years old. He thought of himself as my protector I think, but don't know that he ever remembered my name, no matter how many times I told him.
Co-worker CP's intro: Were you aware that you left an angry boyfriend behind in Anacostia? remember our little friend who always came up and hugged us at the bus stop? well, he is more than a little upset that you have not been around lately. he came up to me today and we had the following conversation:
BF: "I used to have a girlfriend over this way. But I never see her anymore. She worked right over there."
CP: "Oh? I think I might know who you're talking about. What does she look like?"
BF: "Taller than you, great smile, blond hair." ....well we know that while you worked there, there was only one girl in southeast with blond hair right?
CP: "Oh you mean my friend Amy?"
BF "Yeah! You seen her? I loooove that girl. She's got a great personality. Great smile. I used to always come talk to her. I mean I'd give anything-pay anything just to touch her. She was beautiful. Man I love her."
CP: "Well, I'll tell her you say hello."
BF: "Will you?! I used to tell her 'tell your boyfriend that a black man is gonna steal your heart away.'"
A little disturbing, a little charming... just the combo I love about DC.
A little background... boyfriend below stands about at my shoulder height, and is probably 50-60 years old. He thought of himself as my protector I think, but don't know that he ever remembered my name, no matter how many times I told him.
Co-worker CP's intro: Were you aware that you left an angry boyfriend behind in Anacostia? remember our little friend who always came up and hugged us at the bus stop? well, he is more than a little upset that you have not been around lately. he came up to me today and we had the following conversation:
BF: "I used to have a girlfriend over this way. But I never see her anymore. She worked right over there."
CP: "Oh? I think I might know who you're talking about. What does she look like?"
BF: "Taller than you, great smile, blond hair." ....well we know that while you worked there, there was only one girl in southeast with blond hair right?
CP: "Oh you mean my friend Amy?"
BF "Yeah! You seen her? I loooove that girl. She's got a great personality. Great smile. I used to always come talk to her. I mean I'd give anything-pay anything just to touch her. She was beautiful. Man I love her."
CP: "Well, I'll tell her you say hello."
BF: "Will you?! I used to tell her 'tell your boyfriend that a black man is gonna steal your heart away.'"
A little disturbing, a little charming... just the combo I love about DC.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Hobbling on the 92
Since spraining my foot over the weekend, I've gained a new perspective on exactly how annoying my morning commute can be, and how sweet it was before. Now don't get me wrong... some people are really nice. For example, the man who told me, "Baby, if you'd let me, I'd carry you anywhere you need to go." Or the guy who held open the door for me with his cane.
But geez... hobbling onto the 92 this morning, it was incredible how rude people are! I was very obviously limping and unable to get around easily, but three grown men as well as several women had no interest in allowing me to sit down. If you've ever tried to balance on one foot while grabbing the window for stability with one hand, you can imagine how difficult this is on the crickity, crackity bus, and the aggressive driver speeding up, then slammming on his brakes as hard as he can. Among the people who wouldn't move? A strapping young fellow with a wife beater tank top stretched tightly across his vast expanse of gut. He would nod off, then snap awake, then nod off while watching something (sadly, I couldn't see what) on his shiny new Apple computer. Two oversized women with attitudes to match sat on either side of him. Seemingly, they didn't even know each other, but with their pursed lips, raised eyebrows, and ability to look me up and down so irratingly yet threateningly, they could have passed as sisters. Finally, the lone woman who actually needed to use on of the seats glared angrily at no one in particular and pointed her cane at several passengers, as if to warn them of something.
I can't wait to see what happens on the way home. The soccer hooligans were much nicer than the bus-goers, so maybe I'll just find a drinking hole close to home and have the bus driver drop me there.
But geez... hobbling onto the 92 this morning, it was incredible how rude people are! I was very obviously limping and unable to get around easily, but three grown men as well as several women had no interest in allowing me to sit down. If you've ever tried to balance on one foot while grabbing the window for stability with one hand, you can imagine how difficult this is on the crickity, crackity bus, and the aggressive driver speeding up, then slammming on his brakes as hard as he can. Among the people who wouldn't move? A strapping young fellow with a wife beater tank top stretched tightly across his vast expanse of gut. He would nod off, then snap awake, then nod off while watching something (sadly, I couldn't see what) on his shiny new Apple computer. Two oversized women with attitudes to match sat on either side of him. Seemingly, they didn't even know each other, but with their pursed lips, raised eyebrows, and ability to look me up and down so irratingly yet threateningly, they could have passed as sisters. Finally, the lone woman who actually needed to use on of the seats glared angrily at no one in particular and pointed her cane at several passengers, as if to warn them of something.
I can't wait to see what happens on the way home. The soccer hooligans were much nicer than the bus-goers, so maybe I'll just find a drinking hole close to home and have the bus driver drop me there.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Parenthood on the 92
Dude at bus stop: "Hey! Miss Lady!"
Me: "Yes?"
Dude: "You done gots the prettiest legs I ever seen."
I feel a little guilty that I was 50% freaked out, but mostly that I was also 50% flattered. You think he noticed my calves since I've been running more?!
So last night I tried to catch the X2 home. I waited for a few moments while the angry she-bus driver attempted to "service" the bus herself rather than just telling us all there was no chance. I stood beside a heavyset (an understatement) woman who sat with a baby on one hip and a hand on the other (the DC signature pose, if you will). Her too-tight, sorta see-through t-shirt read, and I kid you not: "May all of your ups and downs be between the sheets." How's that for parenting? And common respect for your fellow metro-goers?
Anyway, I eventually gave up on the bus driver (Ms. Lady. Funny how her name is the same as mine), and got on the metro. Good choice.
On the metro, I sat in a group of wife beater-clad twenty something guys featuring cartoon boxers peaking out from above their waistband (note: waistband falls at upper-thigh). But they were wearing sagging baggy jeans, not sagging skinny jeans (puke!), so I liked them a little more than the hipster-thug-teenager hybrids that sat across from us. My group was discussing "dem new jordans," and whether or not one of them could afford them. The group concensus? No, because "Son, you got 8 kids." Please see my previous statement where I pointed out that they were all in their mid-twenties. The guy explained his budgeting techniques in a pretty clear way: "Man... I handle my biznass. I takes care of my kids." Cool. I was impressed. Because a job that allows you to sport cartoon boxers with wife beaters and support 8 kids and an expensive shoe habit? Sign me up!
Me: "Yes?"
Dude: "You done gots the prettiest legs I ever seen."
I feel a little guilty that I was 50% freaked out, but mostly that I was also 50% flattered. You think he noticed my calves since I've been running more?!
So last night I tried to catch the X2 home. I waited for a few moments while the angry she-bus driver attempted to "service" the bus herself rather than just telling us all there was no chance. I stood beside a heavyset (an understatement) woman who sat with a baby on one hip and a hand on the other (the DC signature pose, if you will). Her too-tight, sorta see-through t-shirt read, and I kid you not: "May all of your ups and downs be between the sheets." How's that for parenting? And common respect for your fellow metro-goers?
Anyway, I eventually gave up on the bus driver (Ms. Lady. Funny how her name is the same as mine), and got on the metro. Good choice.
On the metro, I sat in a group of wife beater-clad twenty something guys featuring cartoon boxers peaking out from above their waistband (note: waistband falls at upper-thigh). But they were wearing sagging baggy jeans, not sagging skinny jeans (puke!), so I liked them a little more than the hipster-thug-teenager hybrids that sat across from us. My group was discussing "dem new jordans," and whether or not one of them could afford them. The group concensus? No, because "Son, you got 8 kids." Please see my previous statement where I pointed out that they were all in their mid-twenties. The guy explained his budgeting techniques in a pretty clear way: "Man... I handle my biznass. I takes care of my kids." Cool. I was impressed. Because a job that allows you to sport cartoon boxers with wife beaters and support 8 kids and an expensive shoe habit? Sign me up!
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