Thursday, March 5, 2009

“Yeah…I’m gonna have to ask that you back the fuck up now before I introduce you to my knife”


let me start by saying that I feel bad for talkin’ my shit—both in my last blog and outside of it—about E for ignoring my text message. Turns out that the entire time I was callin’ him all sorts of names that he was in the hospital because he got into (yet another) accident. [This is like the fourth or fifth one that has put him in the hospital since we’ve been talkin’, and to think, this nigga had the nerve to call me accident prone smh]

Sunday afternoon when I was playing hooky from church with the rest of the fam, I got a message from E’s brother John and this is what it said


In case you were wondering, even though his brother said 'Q', we are indeed talkin' about E, as for him tellin' me that I could txt him if iNeeded info, OF COURSE iDID!!! iWas afraid that iAlmost lost him again. Oh yeah, for the stalkers, there's an itty bitty version of his old default on there in case you wanted to see him

So, as I said in the message, I txt him asking what happened exactly and this is what he sent me back:

“Some asshole hit him while he was on his bike, he’s okay but has a concussion and a few bruised ribs.”

The first thing to run through my mind was I’m gonna beat the shit out of that loser for makin’ me worry about him like that” and the second was Thank God this wasn’t like last time when he was unconscious in the hospital for two weeks”. I txt back that I was glad to hear that he was okay and I told his brother to tell E that he scared the shit outta me and that I would have some words for him the next time we spoke on the phone, then I asked him when he was supposed to get out of the hospital. John txt me back and said:

lol, you two are made for each other. He get’s out tomorrow.”

Which of course made me wonder, were we really made for each other?

I had intended to ask E his thoughts on that among other things (like why is he so hell-bent on doin’ stuff to give me a heart attack?) if he called me back on Monday, but his phone is off for the moment while he tries to decide if he wants to keep it. I was—and am—still worried about him, so when I saw his name pop up on my Yahoo! Messenger buddy-list yesterday (Tuesday, I dunno when I’ll have the time to finish and post this) I sent a message because I had to tell him that I might not be able to make it out there for spring break to see him next week—which is somethin’ that is REALLY pissin’ me off right now, but I won’t talk about it because I’m not about to go off about that in this blog, maybe later. And if you peep the screen shot, this is how the conversation went.


I'm worried about the fact that he hasn't talked much since he's been home, that's not normal for him. I'm not sayin' that he talks a lot, but he usually has a lot to say, but on the plus side, he asked if I called♥

I’m really worried about him now and I just hope and pray that he’s alright. I wish that I was able to go see him for spring break but with the way things are lookin’, I wont be able to go and this is startin’ to remind me a lot of what happened at Christmas when I was supposed to be out there and…UGH, this is bullshit.

But anyways, on to today’s blog.


The bus and public transit in general? Yeah, that ain’t for Ren.

Ever since I’ve been back in school and have had to get to and from the main campus for my classes, I’ve been forced to ride the bus with the unclean masses of Lame-Town USA. Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit by assuming that everyone—besides myself at least—that rides the bus is unclean, but if you could only see some of these dirty ass muhfuckas that roam the bus station, you would know exactly what I mean.

Now, I’ve been involved in a few what the fuck situations during my misadventures riding the bus but nothing quite like what happened Tuesday night that made me start by saying this


btw, feel free to follow me on Twitter

and end by saying this


&& thats not to say that iDon't like bein' at home but it's really not my favorite place to be

So, Tuesday night I had to take my Sign Language midterm and since it would’ve been completely inhumane to have us stay in class until 9:45 when we usually get out, our teacher let us go after we finished his ridiculously long test. I finished mine around 8:25 and since my minutes weren’t free yet [don’t front, y’all know how that is lol] I decided not to call mom and to just hop my ass on the bus to get home.

Big fuckin’ mistake.

First, I had to wait for a good fifteen minutes for the bus and I tried to wait inside the Arts & Science building where my Sign Language class is but that was not gonna work for me. I discovered that night that there is this pervy janitor that works at the school and if he had tried to look down my shirt or touch my ass with his broom on "accident" again, he would’ve ended up in the hospital with that broom handle stuck so far up his ass that it would tickle his brain and I would’ve been taking a trip to prison. So, to save him from a long stay in Sparrow or St. Lawrence Hospital and myself from goin’ to the pen (I’m too pretty for that shit and with my luck I’d end up with Big Patty as my cellmate) I stepped outside to do my waiting in the dark and the cold.

So, I’m standing in the little shelter thingy that really doesn’t come close to doing an adequate job of protecting one from the elements when they live in Michigan like I do, freezing my ass off and wishing that I had a cell phone plan that gave me minutes that start at 7:00 pm, when one of my classmates (who looks an awful lot like my could’ve been cellmate Big Patty) arrives on the scene. I don’t make it a habit to socialize with my classmates in any of my classes, I’m there to learn not to make lasting friendships PLUS I’m not exactly a people person so me and this chick are not friends. In fact, I think she might not like me too much based on the way that she gives me this evil ass look every time she sees me.

Well, either she doesn’t like me or she’s hungry or somethin’, I can’t be sure.

Anyways, ya girl was standin’ there, huddled against the cold in my leather coat when Big Patty’s doppelganger stepped into the shelter, almost squishing me against the Plexiglas walls. After giving me that “either I don’t like you or I’m thinkin’ about eatin’ you” look, she took out a cigarette, lit it then after taking a long drag, blew the smoke in my general direction. I’m not a big fan of smokers blowing their smoke in my face and if I wasn’t afraid that I might have gotten eaten, I would’ve told her to go kill herself somewhere else. She obviously couldn’t sense the evil mental vibes I was sendin’ her way and she continued to smoke her cancer stick as she pulled out her phone. I’m not sure if she swallowed the cigarette butt or not but the next thing I know she’s dialing someone on her phone with another Newport dangling from her lips. When whoever she called picked up the phone, she took a breath, hocked a loughie in my direction then continued on with her conversation as if she hadn’t done somethin’ that could’ve gotten her knocked the fuck out.

Because of the cold, I was in shock and couldn’t believe that she had actually spit, least of all in my direction. Who does that?

I mean, seriously?

I aimed my patented “have you no home training?” look at her (broad) back and was about to tap her on her shoulder when she turned and did it again.

Now, I’m a rather nice individual for the most part. I make it my mission in life to give people the benefit of the doubt. As I see it, Big Patty’s clone was taking up so much space in the shelter that she could’ve easily forgotten that there was somebody else in there with her and I had planned to forgive her, but when she did it again?

Hell naw, fuck forgiveness.

Luckily for her, the flat bed truck that she called for a ride showed up and she squeezed out of the shelter to either go home or to go hit up the local Cold Stone Creamery, I don’t know nor do I care. My bus showed up right after she left and I made it down to the bus station without much incident.

Seeing as I seem to be becoming a somewhat unlucky individual these days, I missed my bus by three minutes.

I took a glance inside the bus station and after looking at the rather unsavory lot loitering inside the building, I decided to do the 10-15 minute wait outside in front of my bus’s docking bay. Putting safety first, I positioned myself under one of the lights lining the outside of the building, leaned against the wall in my classic “you don’t want it wit’ me so don’t test me”pose (even if you are a mostly nonviolent person like myself, you need to adopt a don’t fuck wit’ me attitude when riding the bus, it’ll save your life, believe me.) and pulled out my mp3 player. Choosing to forego listening to Drake’s So Far Gone for the millionth time since I downloaded it a couple weeks back (seriously, if you ain't got it, get it. Click here I suggest you use RapidShare, the other one takes forever to load) I selected Johnta Austin from my library of over 175 artists and started listening to the soulful tune-age that my industry husband—well, one of them at least. I’m a polygamist in that aspect lol—continues to produce while still being ridiculously underrated.

I was listening to “One Time For Love”, the one song that really puts my whole “relationship” with E into perspective. I was standing there, thinking about mi amor when I spotted some random old man giving me the ol’ once over.

I get this every day of my life, it’s just one of the many things that comes with bein’ a light skinned, rather attractive, supa-thick chick like me. After damn near 20 years, I’ve gotten used to it; it doesn’t faze me anymore.

Ignoring the old man, I turned down my music to listen to what he was saying to his bus buddy, a guy that I took to either be his son, nephew or grandson, but continued to nod my head to the beat to give the illusion that I was still lost in my music. Obviously not knowing that the entire reason that God allowed headphones to be made was to stop people from talkin’ to you at the bus station, Gramps walked over to me with that old man swagga—if you’ve seen it you know what it looks like, I’m not sure how to describe it lol—in his step.

Standing to the right of me, he started tryin’ to spit that ol’ man game.

“‘Ey, let me holla at you for a minute girl.”

I rolled only my left eye (I’ve learned to roll only one eye at a time riding the bus. Turns out, it’s a useful skill to have) and continued to nod my head to the beat. Gramps tried to holla a few more times until he stepped a bit to close to me—within touching distance of my no-no square—and I was like fuck it, might as well make this old niggas life and acknowledge his presence.

Pulling out my right headphone, I turned my head and dazzled him with a display of my still being orthodontically straightened teeth. After being momentarily blinded by my braces and dazzling white smile which was enhanced by the bright overhead light, he remembered the reason he had come over to harass me and started to spit his game again.

“What’s a fine lookin’ girl like you doin’ ridin’ the bus like this?”

In my head I was thinkin’, “the same thing an old ass man like you is tryin’ to do, just tryin’ to get to where I gotta be.” but what I said was,

“Just headed home.”

Oblivious to the fact that when given a response that totals only three words and four syllables the person speaking to you does not want to continue on with the conversation, he kept right on talkin’ to me smh.

“Standin’ over here lookin’ like you’re sunbathin’, damn you look good. What’s yo’ name girl?”

By this time, Gramps was standin’ directly in front of me so I couldn’t do a one eyed roll. Opting for an inward, mental roll—did I roll my minds eye? hmm, makes ya wonder—I told him,

“My name is Jordyn”

which is not only the name that I use when asked for my name by the cops (lol, let me stop, I don’t get into situations that involve the police, I’m a good girl) and by the thirsty ass niggas that seem to live at the bus station, it’s my pen name. Be on the look out for Jordyn Donyelle Smith, I’ll be at the top of the New York Time’s best sellers list in no time.

After saying my name a few times to test it out, Gramps looked me up and down then licked his lips like he wanted to eat me in a completely different way than Big Patty’s twin sister. Casually, I pressed my knees together and put my hand into the pocket of my hoodie that I keep my knife in just in case the ol’ man tried to do somethin’. His bus buddy came back outside and Gramps kept his gaze locked on me while he walked backward toward his friend, thoroughly creeping me out. I thought that was gonna be the end of that so I put my headphones back on and started to vibe to “What a man really needs”. Unfortunately for ya girl, my mp3 player was still turned down so I happened to hear what was said next.

“That’s a bad lil Philly over there boy, you might wanna add that one to yo’ stable.”

Now, what went through my mind upon hearing that was “I know this old nigga can not be serious.” I’ve been called a lot of things in my day by niggas. A bitch (I admit it, I act like one sometimes) and a tease (I can be one if I choose to be) chief among them, but never in my life have I been likened to livestock. That’s almost as demeaning as being called a bitch in my book!

I could feel my self worth diminishing as I stood there and watched Gramps’ bus buddy walk over to me. To save myself from having to pretend like I couldn’t hear him, I took out my headphones and watched as dude leered at me, giving me a not so quick once over.

“Hey ma, how you doin’? What’s ya name shawty?”

Mentally rolling my eyes again, I told him that I was okay and that my name was Jordyn. He nodded his head and said,

“That’s what’s up. My name is Daniel by everybody calls me Blue. You look good ma.”

I looked at him and instantly thought that people should call him ‘Midnight’, ‘Coal’ or ‘Darkness’. This muhfucka is one of the darkest niggas I’ve ever seen walkin’ the streets of Lame-Town. If you think that I’m exaggerating, I’m not. Look, I even took a picture of him.


yes y'all, that nigga was that damn black rotflmfao

I said that it was nice to meet him and wasn’t surprised for what he asked me next.

“So, you got a man Miss Jordyn?”

I quickly answered,

“Sure do. See?”

Then I whipped out my phone and showed him a pic of…no, it wasn’t E although I have like ten different pix of him on my LG Scoop. Instead of pullin’ up my favorite picture of mi amor—the one where he’s in bed with a tan LA fitted that I’m gonna steal when I see him and this ‘you comin’ to bed or not’ look on his face. Damn, too bad y’all can’t see him—I showed him a picture of me and my older brother Larry.

Darkness, I mean Blue looked at my brother and I then asked me if he treated me right.

“He’s the best man a girl could ask for.”

Blue looked dejected as he said,

“That’s what's up ma, as long as he treats you right, but if he doesn’t, just let a nigga know and I got you.”

I faked my interest in his offer by giggling and telling him that I would indeed remember that then as soon as his back was turned, I high tailed it into the station and took a seat…

then this guy who looked a lot like Lurch from the Addams Family decided to sit his heavy breathin’ ass down right next to me.

The station was virtually dead at this time of night and the bench that I was sitting on was empty save for myself and Lurch. I could feel his beady little eyes on me so I turned to him as he tried to speak to me.

“I couldn’t help but to overhear…your name is Jordyn, right?”

Thoroughly annoyed with the whole night and the people that were steadily annoying me, I cocked an eyebrow then gave him my best withering stare until he cleared his throat and removed himself from my presence.

Five minutes or so passed and my bus finally pulled into the station. I went back outside only to find that I would have to wait before I could board because the bus driver felt the need to go relieve himself. With a sigh, I stationed myself right back under the light in front of the bus and was harassed once again by Gramps.

“Say gal, whatchu listenin’ to?”

I told him that it was Johnta Austin then he looked all confused and asked me what kind of stuff does he sing. I told him that he sings pop and R&B then he shook his head and reminisced over the days when used to ride around town bumpin’ his 8-track in his Pinto . Gramps then asked me if my man would mind if I had a sugar daddy on the side. I gave him a look that clearly said “Nigga get the fuck outta here”.

What the fuck am I gonna do with a sugar daddy that rides the bus? Use his discounted fare?


After trying to glance at how tight my jeans were hugging my ass, Gramps saw my backpack and quickly deduced that I was a student. He asked me what I was going to school for and I told him that I was seriously thinking about becoming a Psychology major. He smiled a toothless smile at me (ewwwwwww) then took my head in both of his hands and shook it. With my brain rattling around in my skull, he said something about being glad to see young blacks getting their educations.

Having had enough, I put my hand in the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out my knife

Pretty, isn't it? I ordered it a couple of weeks back and it is fast becoming my new best friend. It strikes fear into the hearts of Lansing niggas. It's great lol

and said

“Yeah…I’m gonna have to ask that you back the fuck up before I have to introduce you to my knife old man”

He backed up.

lol, after that, my night went smoothly. I got on the bus, chuckling to myself all the while as I watched Gramps go look for a security guard to snitch about my knife and half an hour or so later, I made it home.

The bus is not for ya girl y’all, forreal.

Who wants to help me buy a car?


1 comment:

bfears said...

lmfao this was hilarious!!!!!! esp the part whn he asked if yu needed a sugar daddy & he was on the bus as well!!! damn ol boy dun bn in alot of damn accidents. he needa b careful. its dangerous out here.