Women these days..

I guess the sign that your getting older, is when you go out and instead of searching for that girl to “Make Love In The Club”, your just babysitting a drink and looking for an intelligent conversation. Back in the day, me and my boys would also call that, gay. But I’m comfortable in my grown man status. I’ve learned that the type of woman I’m looking for I’m not gonna find at no club. And if I do find her there, she’ll be married, dating, or lost. So when my “peoples” drag me out with them, I usually sit off to myself unless I’m called to the floor for my impromptu dance scene. Like in the movies, where everyone knows the same dance routine and just starts doing it in the club. If you aren’t sensing my sarcasm, please catch a whiff of it now!

Like I was saying, I was searching for a good conversation and this nice young lady sat down next to me and nearly talked my ear off. I don’t know if I have a sign on my head, that screams, “Talk to me”.  Or if my “peoples” told her to come hit me up, but she dropped that old game on me. “What are you doing sitting here all alone?”. We begin to converse, and no I didn’t hit her with the “I’m not looking, I’m stuck on the same chick I’ve been stuck on all my life.” Give a brother some credit, I know how to talk to the ladies.

So we get into a heated debate. So heated her friends come and try to gang up on me. What started it? She tried to tell me there were no good black single men. So I flip it on her, and tell her that there are just that most women these days aren’t looking for good men. So of course she gets defensive and starts telling me about her past 3 boyfriends. So I politely let her finish, I don’t interrupt. Yet, I begin to explain to her that it was more her choices of black men, then the generalization that there were no good ones. Then it became, “attack the brother” show. I had women listening from the other side of club coming over to yell at me. To an onlooker, I must have looked like the man, because I was surrounded with women. Yet, if you took a closer look you could see the angry looks on their faces.

Why were they so angry? Was it because I am a black man, and I shouldn’t have been defending myself as well as my brothers? Or because I was telling them the truth and they couldn’t handle it? There is a small, slight, minor chance that I could have been wrong, but I’m eliminating that reasoning because I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t feed into the machine. If you tell me your man did nothing but cheat on you, but he also cheated on every other woman he was with. Your telling me that you either, accept that he’s going to do that to you. Or you think that he’s a dog that’s going to loose his spots miraculously because he’s got with you. If you tell me your man has three children, with three different women. Then don’t understand why he wouldn’t commit to you. I’m going to tell you, that obviously he has a commitment problem. If you tell me you make six figures and he’s struggling to make it, but you want a man who can take care of you. I’m gonna tell you that he ain’t the man for you. This is common sense to me. Why they don’t understand that, I’ll never understand.

The “Hit & Run” Bandits

 

Foolishly, my cousin, friend, & I were coming home from a night of debauchery. It was my cousin’s “reclaim my sexy” (divorce anniversary)  night. Unfortunately, he’s always tied to some chick right before he’s suppose to “reclaim” it, so it turns into more of a “let’s hang out and look at all the beautiful ladies, talk about the beautiful ladies, & go home drunk together…”. Of course our responsibility level is much higher then that of our twenties. We all have breached the “30’s” threshold, and try to maintain some sort of resemblance of mature adults.

So after walking to and sitting in waffle house for a few hours flirting with every waitress and woman that walked in, we were ready to go home. We walk back to the car, start down the road. We’re sitting at the light and look over and see the car next to us backing up. At least that’s what we thought at first. Next thing we know, they back right into the car behind them. No one reacts. The car behind them doesn’t blow their horn, no one gets out the car. We proceed to watch the car slip out of gear and do the same thing again. So of course, even though we know we’re sober at this point we’re tripping because this seems like one of those “drunk glasses” episodes (you know when your drunk and you see something totally different then everyone else). So we just sit there in amazement. My cousin then gets the idea when the light changes and the car takes off that he’s going to aid in the capture of the “hit & run” bandits.

So we start driving beside them, the car in front of them starts slowing down in front of them, the actual car that was hit is lagging behind. We see there is a parked truck on the side of the rode, so the car in front of them slows down almost to a stop, and my cousin is asking us if he should stop too. We have them cornered, and then realize the car they hit is no where to be found. So at this point we figure there is nothing else to do, but go on about our business. We had did all of that, for the “victims” to just pull over and call the police. At least we weren’t the only “hit& run” Rangers.

Handicapped vs. The Post Office

 

I’m making a quick dash for the post office. Yes I know it closes at 5pm. Yes I know I should have started my journey before 4:38pm, because I live about 15 minutes away. Still, Friday afternoon it should be a breeze right? After all normal people are trying to rush home to their families and jump start their weekend fun. I stop at the stop sign, proceed around the corner to find that everyone in the entire city is at the post office.

Okay, maybe that’s what I get huh? I pull into the overcrowded parking lot and there are no spaces except…da da daah “Handicap Only”.  Living in many cities, mostly in the downtown areas. I’ve had my experience with the “I’m just going to run in, it’s okay to park here for a second..” or the “I’m just getting money out of the ATM, no police is going to randomly patrol the bank parking lot to give me a ticket…”. Yet to my amazement I’ve been ticketed, once too many times if you asked me. So learning from my mistakes I decide not to partake in the privileged parking and circle around like a vulture praying someone has given up their space. I circle once, twice, three times, so many times I swear I’m going to get dizzy..all while the time ticks away. I now have 3 minutes to walk into the post office before they lock the doors till Monday.

Finally someone leaves their space and I zip in and run into the post office. The line inside is ridiculous, and the obnoxious Passport picture taker man is asking anyone if they are in line for a “Non-Postal” reason. It’s like dude, it’s closing time, we are INSIDE of the post office. At this point the only reason we are in line is for a “Postal” reason. I watch as this woman standing in front me gets out of line to ask him just what a “Non Postal” reason was. Being the “my time is everything” person I am I casually scoot up. Then she proceeds to slide back in front of me as if I wouldn’t notice. So I don’t say nothing. Then I she again steps out of line to get a box (may I add she had to build it, with no tape, no pen, no nothing!). She again walks right back in front of me. We continue to move closer and closer to the counter. I notice her construction on her box has ceased. To most people it would seem as if she was finished, but my gut was telling me otherwise. Like clockwork, she walks up to the counter and ask “Do you have the Priority Label for this box?”. Seems like a reasonable question right? That was until I looked right next to me at the big sign that said, “PRIORITY LABELS, PLEASE FILL OUT BEFORE REACHING THE COUNTER”.

She turns around and smiles at me and loudly proclaims, “I’m sorry I know I’m holding these people up…”. She continued to hold everyone up while I finally got to the next clerk. I have my package ready and the lady looks at me and says, “You know since it’s after 5, it’s not going to go in until the next day?”. This is why they say “Don’t go Postal!” because not only are they crazy, but they bring the crazy out of you too. I remain calm, do my little countdown, smile and just say, “Ok”. I walk out the same time as the box lady, who is dancing like someone turned on some strobe lights. I hold the door open and watch as she walks over to the handicapped parking space, I should have taken. No handicap sticker, no physical handicap displayed, & no ticket for parking there.

The whole incident just brought out my resentment for Handicapped parking in general. Why are there so many Handicapped parking spaces? And why are the majority of the people parked in them with the stickers not really handicapped. It’s getting so bad these days, there is also, “Expecting Mothers”, “Police Deputy”, and “Employee of the Month” restricted parking. It’s impossible to get a parking space within a 1 mile radius of the actual door. I’m gonna start carrying a cone in my car, with a sign taped to a stick..”I’m Not Handicapped, but I want to park in the front too!” and place it in front of my car every time I go someplace. Wanna bet how fast that sign gets stolen?

Dirty Old Lady!

 

So, I’ve exhausted all my other options. The bathroom is just too filthy, the other one is locked. I decide to “relieve” myself in nature. So I find a private area and turn the faucet on. I had been holding it for a while, so with my eyes closed I was beginning to feel like I could breathe again. I open my eyes and to my surprise this woman is just standing over to the side staring at me.

Two options: (1) Cease & Retreat (2) Keep Going & Ignore. Unfortunately I could do neither so I continued to ”flow”, and stared back at her. Do you know this lady did not waiver in her stares? She did not take her eyes off of me, nor go away. In fact until the awkwardness of me “finishing” she just continued to look at me as if I had invited her to watch. 

My “feel goodness” was gone, replaced with a dirty sensation. Was she overly impressed by my dexterity? Did she like what I was holding? Was she outraged that I was standing there “shooting the breeze” literally that she couldn’t take her eyes off me. Either way, she should have found her manners somewhere and gave me some privacy.  Dirty old lady!

Boycott Crooked Gas Stations..

 

Okay I understand what your saying, “Do Not Read in my store!”. Yet come on it’s just magazines! Can’t I browse and make sure I want to spend almost $5 on some colored paper in a binder? It’s not like I’m opening up the magazines in the plastic with the censor bars over the good stuff. Or i’m thumbing through a magazine I really don’t want to buy. I just actually want to see if the article is worth spending $5 on.

It’s bad enough I forgot to get a receipt when I paid for my gas. I come back into the store and have to wait 10 minutes behind the lady on the phone asking “Whoever” it is she’s talking to to give her some ”Fantasy 5″ numbers. Or that I standing in front of a man who wants to share my personal space, he’s standing so close I can hear his thoughts. It’s crazy that when I do get to the counter, you get annoyed because I didn’t ask for a receipt when I was in there the first time. Your a business, I need a receipt! Does it matter when I ask for it? My car is still parked in front of the pump. You know how much I paid just push in the numbers and give me the paper. I bet you don’t want me reading that in your store either, huh?

Stop trying, I’m not buying!

 

 

I’m so sick of people trying to sell me things. Yes, little girl at my door, “I don’t want your girl scout cookies”! You and your dad, who never talks to me anyway, please go away. Maybe I could be nicer if I had a child of my own, but I don’t.

It isn’t limited to girl scouts and their horrible cookies. It’s all the catalogs that I know I didn’t sign up for begging for my money. I swear my friends sign me up for catalogs just to come over my house and laugh at me. I get a new one every month, even though they threaten to not renew me without a reply.  Also, it’s the lady at the gas station trying to sell me jewlery, books, oils and whatever it is she’s made at home for “gas money”. Despite all the aggressive entrepreneurs & tree killers the most evil aspect of selling is, advertising. It’s fair to say companies spend a great deal of time and money trying to think of ways for you to buy their product.

Some odd reason the average American can’t retain enough information to be smarter then a 5th grader, yet they can recite, “Where’s The Beef?” commercials from 20 years ago. It’s because your brain has been damaged. Scary part is, you can still use it!

That’s right, you heard it here first. Commercials, Advertisements, even the cute little Girl Scouts are damaging your brain. It’s safe to say with the mass invasion of advertisements, in the next 40 years we will all be zombies. Not even good zombies, but the cheap low budget “28 Days” zombies. Walking around humming jingles. Finishing catch phrases. Wearing shirts with names on it. Oh wait, we already do that.

What’s my point? Just say no to being a Zombie!