Ten: Fifty-Seven

Ten: Fifty Seven
Is there anything quite as annoying as going out of town and seeing people you know? Anything quite as, "...ugh" as seeing a person you know and don't particularly care for when you're out of town?
How about having the person you know and don't particularly--hell, especially don't-- like see you and initiate a borderline racially insensitive conversation?
Yeah. All bad.
After working for three caffeine deprived hours straight, I found myself standing bleary eyed in the line at Biggby. While waiting to place my order I felt my phone vibrate. Without looking down, I reached into my pocket, extracted my cell and silently cursed the fools that invented the chain letter and it's modern day equivalent, the forwarded message. Without bothering to tell the sender that if God was really testing me I was too tired to care about failing, I silently took a step forward as the line advanced.
I felt someone tap my shoulder. "Excuse me," they said as I turned around. "I think you dropped your mo--LauRen?"
Oh, fuck. Not this bitch, I thought to myself.
Plastering my fakest, "It's so nice to see you! Won't you please go play in traffic now?" smile on my face, I thanked her for telling me that I had dropped my money. She handed it to me and gave me an unwelcome and very much unwanted hug.
"So how are you? What are you doing up here in Grand Rap--do you live here now?"
I awkwardly patted her on the back while trying to disengage from her embrace. "I'm alright, thanks. No. I'm just visiting for a few hours before I head back to Lansing."
I noticed the line had moved out of corner of my eye so, with what I hoped would be one last forced smile, I turned and took a step forward. There was only one person standing in the way of my coffee and my hasty exit from the shop when I felt her hand in my hair.
"Oh, my God, LauRen. Your hair is so soft! It looks like it'd be...well, y'know. Rough."
The needle on the imaginary record playing in my head dragged across its surface and the music stopped as I turned to face her. "...Excuse me?" My internal DJ changed the song from Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3 to Lil Scrappy's "Head Bussa" as she blushed at her gaffe.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that! It's a good thing. I like the 'natural' look on you! Makes you seem...ethnic. You look like you could be on your way to a Black Cat--Lion? Panther?--meeting in your leather jacket."
Oh. My. God. This bitch--this bitch tried it.
With my hands balled into tightly clenched fists at my side, I was about to whirl around and deliver a spinning kick to the side of her head when I saw the barista motion for me to come forward and place my order out of the corner of my eye.
I don't think she realizes or appreciates the fact that my Wild Zebra latte saved her reproductive organs from being introduced to my fists.

…Can I talk my shit again?

So I'm cleaning my room, right? Well, that's what I told people I've been doing at any rate. I've actually been enjoying a bit of Me time locked away here in my admittedly messy ass inner sanctum. Y'know, catching up on my much needed beauty sleep^[1] and sorting my nail polish collection and things of that nature. The finer things in life if you will.
That is, however, until I got bored enough to hijack Egg’s laptop and logged onto Aintshit Social Network # 3:
Tagged.com.
For the people out there that’re blissfully unaware, Tagged is a bit like MySpace meets Black Planet in terms of ratchet nutfuckery. It’s the type of site that makes you wish you could give yourself a real life virus scan in terms of general skeeviness. In short: it’s an awesomely bad place to hang out when you’re bored and it’s filled with the sorts of things that’ll make you love and loathe the Internet.Okay, mostly loathe it, but still. I can’t call it all bad. There’re actually quite a few decent people on there. Quite a lot of thirsty gentlemen in search of a good quenching, but hey, that’s the Internet for ya. If my DM inbox on Twitter could talk…
So there I was, lounging on my bed, listening to Gemineye’s “Penny for your Thoughts” on YouTube when I looked at my notifications and noticed that I had new messages. I clicked the link hoping that someone that I could actually stand had written me a message and let loose a string of curses that would’ve made the proverbial sailor blush when I found out who it was.
You see, for the past day and a half or so, this fool has been harassing me. At first, I thought it was funny in a pathetic sort of way, but now…
Not so much, no.
Dude has sent me a ton of messages—upwards of two and three at one time, smfh—and trying to get the exact order of things down has me confused, but here’s the latest round of What the Fuckness that he’s been sending me,
(Read from the bottom up; you know the deal)

 

Noticing that I changed my name to “Kyrie Eleison”, he sent a separate message asking if this is in fact my real name

 
By now, as I’m sure you understand, I was losing my cool, so when he sent me this

I decided to reply with

Which somehow turned into this
(You may have to click to enlarge these last few messages)


To which I replied

 
And he fired back with

I have no intention of responding by the way. I’m not too big a fan of being sexually harassed online.
I think the moral of today’s story is that the Internet can be a wonderful place full of many joys and wonders, boys and girls. But, if you happen to be me, it’s usually like the club on those rare occasions that I decide to go: full of horny, crazy old bastards.
Anyway doe.
If you’re one of the few people that’s been wonderin’ why I haven’t posted on here—I know, it shocked me to find out that people actually cared, too—you can find me sporadically posting over at The (Infamous) Life: V. 2.4.
Kbye.
♥ 

^{1 if you’ve seen me recently (…or at all) you would understand what I’m saying here is the absolute truth.}

Midol Wishes and NyQuil Dreams

My name is LauRen and I am an insomniac.^[1]
Wait, let me rephrase that: My name is LauRen and I’m a sleep deprived, caffeine fueled zombie on days that end in “y”.
I crave sleep—lust after over? Discuss it even. I fantasize about sleep the same way the lonely and sexually repressed fantasize about pussy and peen on the tragically pathetic “#TwitterAfterDark”. I think I lose sleep to daydream about it.
Yeah, it’s that deep.
All that being said, I’m lucky if I get more than three hours of it at any given time. In fact, the only times that I get the doctor recommended seven to eight hours of shut eye are those nights when I’m more or less heavily medicated, and oh, what blissfully amazing sleep it is.
Last week while my uterus was double dutching with my fallopian tubes, I came down with a cold-flu type bug from one of my students that had me coughing up my mucus filled lungs and generally fucked up. I tried to work through it, but when my temperature spiked at 102.3, I said “this shit is for the birds,” reached for my Midol and two NyQuil liqui-gels and called it a night. Within twenty minutes  of downing my improvised drug cocktail, I was knocked the eff out.
Now, I don’t know what’s in Midol Complete or NyQuil and no, I don’t care as long as they both continue to make my cramps and fever disappear, but I think that somehow the drugs merged, teaming up for mild pain relief and to hijack my resulting drug induced dream.
‘Ey, gon’ head and laugh if you want to; it’s the only semi-logical explanation I have as to why My Voldermort^[2] was harassing me during my well deserved slumber.
The dream opened with MV and I cuddling ^[3] in my spare bedroom. He had been making fun of me my collection of Care Bears and Beanie Babies when I threatened to punch him in the neck if he didn’t ess-tea-eff-you.
“Really, Ren,” he said plucking Proud Heart Cat from the bookcase that doubles as my headboard. “You’re how old? Do I need to see ID?”
”It was a gift; shuddup. Keep talkin’ that nonsense and the only thing you’ll see is my fist in yo’ face when I punch you in it. Nicca.”
Brushing off my very real threat of violence, MV laughed, said something about my “violent ass” and tossed PHC in the air, making my poor Care Bear Cousin somersault in midair. I still haven’t quite figure it out, but I somehow managed to snatch the stuffed animal out of the air, throw it across the room and deliver a right cross to his left cheek while planting a kiss on the opposite.
“You’re pretty much an assface, just thought I’d let you know.”
“And you’re an asshole. I still [redacted]^[4] you though.”
"Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” I replied as I stretched and got out of bed. “I’ll be back,” I said over my shoulder as I walked out of my room…
And into Nana’s bathroom. Yeah. I know.
This is where things get hazy and since it’s almost time for my Skype tutoring session, I’ll have to cut this short, but what followed was a veritable odyssey of random weirdness. There was a cyber versus steampunk showdown that had no clear winner; a killer sale on Zoya nail polish; a series of unfortunate but hilariously effed up events had Tia show up out of nowhere, get hit by parked car and an ambulance and I do believe there was a bake sale, too.
Random, right?
♥

^{1 If this were a meeting of Insomniacs Anonymous, this would be the part where a group of sleep deprived people stifle a yawn and say “Hi, LauRen,” then we would all discuss our misadventures in Insomnia and finish the meeting with stale coffee and even staler Krispy Kreme donuts. I think. Pretty sure I’m right.
2 It’s been well over a week since this happened and I’m still mad that He Who Shall Be Punched in the Face had the audacity to pop his half nekkid ass nekkid ass up in my dream.
Up until last week, I hadn’t heard from My Voldermort since NYE when he sent me a “Happy New Year, love” txt. The three txts that I sent in the weeks following? Yeah, those were all ignored. He must’ve been feeling guilty about his complete and utter lack of communication because he thought I was saying “Fuck Q” instead of “Fuh Q” when I posted a link in my status on YIM. He popped out of nowhere and hit me wit’ some damn, “Fuck me? Wow” and went ghost before I could correct his rather egregious error.
…And he wonders why I doubt that he’ll be coming out here to visit next month. Ugh =/}

^{3 I’m going to assume this all occurred precoital because there was no cigarette smoke in the air or an ashtray in sight. Take that as you will.
4 We all know what the removed word is, I just felt like being difficult.}

I Got 99 Problems but This Bish Ain’t One

The Tiffanee Thomas Affair

Seems like I’m always and forever gettin’ myself involved in one fxcked up situation or another, doesn’t it? I need to work on that because really? This is not a good look for my life. While I love most things fxckery related, continuing to experience them first hand is going to be the end of my (infamous) life. While you may not care, I know that somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight someone would miss me, so I’m gonna try to keep interactions like the one I’m about to write about to a minimum. For their sake.
Anyway.
I’m still a little on the dazed and confused side as to how we even got into this situation, but a few days after I posted my last entry, I received a Direct Message on Twitter from some bish going by the screen-name @iWant_iGet. Which was odd. I’d never even received a RT or mention from this chick and there she was in my inbox. Initially, I wasn’t going to read her message and just brush it off as spam, but I peeped it anyway.
 
I knew that she was from the same area G’s from and had seen them talk to each other online before so I just assumed that they knew each other in real life so, I responded.




I thought that was gonna be the end of the conversation until she hit me wit’ this bullshxt.

Why does everyone always assume that I’m tryin’ to take this nigga away from his girlfriend?! Sheesh. May-May I told you I’m not gonna stop callin’ you that mister and I are strictly platonic friends. He loves his girl and while I’m not exactly sure what to call him right now, I love Q. He knows and respects that and has never tried to come at me on that level. Ever.



Girl…bye.

We continued to DM each other about the situation until she finally told me to txt him the next day before logging off for the night. The next day, I txt him for the first time since the incident occurred last Saturday telling him that a ‘friend’ of his said I should hit him up and the first thing he told me was, “Ms. Carter, you’re gonna get me in soooooo much trouble.”
Which I, of course, found to be mildly hilarious, but y’all know Ren. I’m a sick puppy like that. 
He asked me which friend of his it was that told me I should hit him up. When I responded that it was neither of the people he had mentioned but instead one Ms. Tiffanee Thomas, he told me that he didn’t trust her and asked me to get on Skype.
Me: I deleted you from my contacts.
G.: You’re not even giving me a chance to explain the whole thing. When did you talk to Tiffanee?
Me: she hit me up late last night/early this morning
G.: Why? I don’t trust her, I didn’t say one thing to her about you. I secretly think it’s Jessica honestly
Me: that’s not what she told me and *shrugs*
G.: She’s dead ass lying, I never DM’d her, I barely even talked to her
Me: doesn’t bother me none
Fact: I was lying like shxt. By this point I knew we had been bamboozled and it pissed me off.
G eventually convinced me to hop on Skype and, long story short since I wanna throw up these screenshots and be done wit’ this bullshxt once and for all, were convinced that this Tiffanee Thomas trick was his girlfriend. We were, apparently although the jury is still out on that for me wrong about that and TT turns out to be someone his girl knows. Go ahead and throw your best side-eye, I’ve been doin’ the same thing. At about 9 o’clock that same night, Ms. Tiffanee Muddafxckin’ Thomas logged back on to Twitter and, well…

Peep what she said to @jmillz1984.
“I’m breaking niggas up lol….and I’m loving it”
Bish is crazy, point blank period.
Now, it’s not bad enough that she decided to go after G for whatever sick, twisted reason that she had, but then she said this
 
which effectively launched her sideways and ergo reckless at me, so, I had to respond.
 
Usually when I start throwing outdated insults like “guttersnipe” around, people get the point and back the eff back. However, this bxtch must’ve had an extremely high dose of “Fuck it” in her system because she kept tryin’ to go hard at me by calling me fat, ugly, a dike, etc. etc.
*stifles a yawn*
I’ve heard worse from better so I wasn’t concerned with what else she had to say as I continued my rant.

You know she went and continued her eThuggery, right? I wasn’t in the mood to continue on with the shenanigans so as I felt myself winding down, I said

Then
 
Which should have been the end of that, but long after I blocked her, she kept tryin’ to go hard, to which I said
 
I still think that somethin’ in the milk ain’t clean about this situation and I have a feeling that it’s far from over smh.
♥

If Yo’ Girl Only Knew…Oh. Wait. She Does.

This ain’t ‘bout my ego; though I hate to lose…

I’m gonna keep this one short. Peep the screen shot below, click to enlarge if need be.

The fact that I just lost who and what I thought to be a really good friend hurts. However; the reason behind our friendship ending pisses me off.
I hate it when broads bxtches girls who probably won’t even be in the picture in six months make their man choose between them and a friend as I’m pretty positive this is what happened in my situation. It’s not fair, it’s not right and it makes you look really insecure ladies and that is not a good look for your life. If you think that your guy is cheating on you or that you can’t trust him and this friend of his whether it’s a girl or not, end it. Don’t put him in the position where he has to make a decision between one or the other because no matter which one he chooses, someone’s going to end up hurt and most likely pissed off in the end.
Fellas, don’t allow yourself to be put in a position where you have to chose between your girl and your strictly platonic friend(s) because believe me, she won’t stop there when it comes to making you choose between her and something else.
…I’m sorry y’all.  
Even with the day or so that’s passed since this incident occurred, I’m still very much annoyed, sad and more than a little bit hurt that it came down to this. But, it is what it is G, as you said, “it was fun while it lasted”. You never should’ve had to make that choice, but you did so eh. I hope she was worth it and I since I still love you, I’m going to hold off on snidely adding ‘but I seriously doubt she is’.
Oh. Wait….

Now back to your irregularly posted blogs.
♥

Ooh, He So…Artistic [?] Is That the Word I’m Lookin’ For?

*sigh*

I’m still not done wit’ my paper so this one shall be short. Don’t let your eyes or brain rejoice just yet though, I do have somethin’ for y’all to get into.

Kanye, Kanye, Kanye…

What the FXCK is this ish?

Let me finish this paper and maybe, just maybe I’ll have the words for this fxckery later on.

♥

You Too Can Learn How To Duke Da Devil For One Easy Payment of $29.95

This vid got me feelin' like I'm about to go to hell because I laughed so hard.



If you laughed like I did, you too will be headed to hell.
With a stick of dynamite in your hand.
And gasoline draws on.


I promise that my next post will be an actual blog. You know. With words.

ATTN: Dumb bitches and thirsty internet niggas...stay the FXCK off YouTube!

I know that I said that part 2 of the last post was comin' soon but guess what?
I lied, sorry.
I'll have to get the DVD of the performance so I can finish my thoughts on that one.
Now, onto today's post.

*sigh*
I'm at a place in my life where I just ask myself why. Like WHY do they allow idiots with misshapen bodies to post offensive material on YouTube? WHY do they think that shit like that is sexy? WHY are all these thirsty ass internet niggas gassin' up these dumb bitches heads?
So, it must've been a month ago, give or take, when my boy Evan sent me this random ass video. I went to go look at it and I died from the hideousness and the recklessness of it all for about 35 seconds.
Peep it if you dare then keep reading.
BTW, Evan? I shall spoon your eyes out with a spork--wait, would I spork them out? hmm--for sendin' me this shit. Asshole.
[Oh yeah...turn off my music to view the vids. Don't be slow]




I couldn't look at her anymore so I scanned the comments she received and I felt parched from the thirstiness I was witnessing. This lopsided ass cheek havin', I'm like 18 with a deflated Hello Kitty balloon on my wall and I look like I sit in my room and eat bananas all damn day ass bitch has niggas sayin' shit like
"I wanna pay yo' bills"
and
""Baby that vid iz one of the sexiest vidz I have ever seen on here. You make me want to f**k baby, and I do mean F**KKK!"

...So, this is what's sexy in 09?
Double you-Tea-Eff is that shit?
Really?
I mean word?
Ren wishes that she could say that that was the only video this poor, dazed and oh so very confused girl put online but...it'd be a damn lie. If you have the stomach for it, peep the rest of this fuckery. If not, scroll to the bottom of the post.



I myself am insulted that dude, slimgooodbody, said she was the nicest lookin' thick chick he's seen in his life. Me? Thick as a muhfucka and cute on top of it, but I mean, if thats what niggas are into these days, how can I compete?
Oh well, I ain't checkin' fo' y'all no way, I'm taken.





chestax says, "YO its sumthin seriously wrong with this bitch ass!! but i would fuck"
DA HELL??
I rebuke this spirit of thirstiness. Amen.



Questions I had after viewing this particular vid:
What the hell is that squeakin' sound?
Why the fuck is she not rockin' her hips to "Rock Yo' Hips"?
Am I the only one who notices the stickers and shit on her wall?
Why does it look like she's dancin' on one of these floor lamps

instead of a pole?



THiS DUMB BiTCH CALLED THE ViD "Organism" iNSTEAD OF ORGASM!
How the hell are you gonna fake somethin' that yo' remedial, I have a lifetime pass for the short bus let me make sure I got my helmet wit' me ass can't spell?

There are so many things that I could say right now. SO many things, but, I can't do it so I won't get into it. I wish that my laptop wasn't on crack at the moment (those fuckfaced bastards at Dell are REALLY pissin' me off smh) so I could upload the vid that I shot in response to this bullshit (turns out, y'all like my lil cracktarded vids. Makes me smile that does ☺ lol)
As a matter of fact...let me find a flash drive and bring it over to the desktop that I'm currently sitting at so I can upload it. It'll be up soon.
I promise
*crosses fingers behind back*
lol
♥

Bear Force One ATTACK!!! lmao

I swear you find some of the weirdest, funniest, creepiest, queerest things ever on YouTube.
This made me giggle though because I have a gay friend who has a thing for Bears, in fact, it was him who sent this to me in the first place. lmfao, Erek said this video made him cream himself.
It just made me shake my head and laugh hysterically haha.




♥

new rule: shave your pits before taking naked pix

smfh

I will never cease to be amazed by the shit that people put online thinkin’ that they’re cute.

About fifteen minutes ago, I went to go answer my mail on MySpace and when I went back to my homepage, I saw that they had once again scrambled my top friends.

↓↓↓↓↓

I was feeling impatient, so instead of waiting for MySpace to put my Top Friends back in order, I decided to scroll down and do it my damn self. What I saw in my number 36 spot made me choke on my water and I almost spit on my laptop screen.

Peep this

↓↓↓↓↓

What.

The.

FUCK???

I understand the fact that y’all may not see things that way that I do so let me tell you what to be on the look out for in this pic.

1) I gotta speak on the weave. In her picture caption, ol’ girl was like “Long hair don’t care” so I gotta be like “Bitch please, that ain’t nothin’ but yaki”

2) Um…knife wound much?

3) and this…why the fuck would you take a pic like this when you need to shave your underarms? I mean, all that hair right there? Yeah, that’s real sexy.

This chick, whoever the hell she may be, is on the not so reckless end of the scale on my reckless-ometer, earning only about a 3.75 but believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse on MySpace and the other various social networking sites that I belong to and I will be sharing those pix and my thoughts on them every time that I come across a new one.

Excited yet?

lol

♥

A Rare Glimpse Inside My Inbox

*sigh*

I’m very seriously considering turning on my away message on MySpace to avoid gettin’ shit like this every damn day.

↓↓↓↓↓

My baby?

He ‘performoed’ out here?

smh, it’s always the illiterate ass niggas that try to holla on MySpace.

Anybody else notice that?

♥

I Know this is old-ish but…Christina, Girl, WHY?

This was released like last week, but this is some of the funniest shit I’ve seen all damn day. Matter of fact, it may just BE the funniest shit I’ve seen all damn day.

Peep the vid.

↓↓↓↓↓↓

Christina Milian…girl why?

Out of all the little R&B chicks in the industry, she was just about the only one I wouldn’t get annoyed about when whatever guy I had on the phone at that present moment said she was fine/bad/a dime/whateva. I myself think that she’s pretty—and I will very rarely say that another chick is attractive fyi—and talented on top of it but going from this

↓↓↓↓↓

to this

↓↓↓↓↓

?????

That’s NOT gettin’ it.

LMFAO
Johnta said he used to wanna take her to bed now he wouldn’t even take her to the bus station, and as someone who spends an unfortunate amount of time at the bus station? I can personally say that I’ve seen many a pathetic, sad lookin’ female who thinks she looks oh so fine—and just look at that smile. She thinks she’s a dime. It’s sad really—walkin’ around the bus station in outfits very similar to the one that she’s wearing.

*dramatic sigh*

This could just be what happens when you fall off, but I myself think this is what happens when you mess wit’ the Dream. I mean, look at her w/sexy ass Dre

↓↓↓↓↓

And even when she was with Nick Carey, I mean Cannon

↓↓↓↓↓

And now with The Dream?

↓↓↓↓↓

Has one of my favorite female singers hit rock bottom for messin’ around with one of the most prolific, annoying sounding, could be one of the dopest song writers—if he chose to keep the really good songs that he’s written like “Bed” (Although, to throw in a sidebar: I would not wanna do freaky, nasty things to that song if The Dream was the one who’s face kept poppin’ up in my head) for himself—in the game?

I’m not sure.

Maybe she is just fuckin’ for tracks like most of the people who commented the interview HERE seem to think.

We are in a recession after all.

[Oh, for the curious, I’m not even gonna start on Chris Brown and Rhianna, I have too much to say on that so I’ma let Johnta speak for me.]

♥

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

First,

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

↓↓↓↓↓

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 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

↓↓↓↓↓

and end by saying this

↓↓↓↓↓

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.

↓↓↓↓↓

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?

Please.

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

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?

lol

♥