When It Just Hurts

This is a heart dump.  I need to get this out before the rage I feel right now threatens to choke the humanity in me as much as I want to choke some of the beings that call themselves human right now.

A friend had the shit beat of her simply because she loves the same sex as her own.  She is one of the the craziest, yet nicest people I know. She was beaten simply because of how she is wired to love and did not feel the need to hide it, to fear for it. She was beaten badly. Badly enough that we, her friends – fought to convince her,  if she did not want to go to the police, to at least go to the hospital and have herself properly checked out. 

Live and let live is what they say right? She was lucky she was let live…” a now former…someone…(because I refuse to grant them the honorific of friend) of hers, quipped. It was said in such a way that we who heard it understood where their sympathies lay. It was not with the woman finally going to the ER.

Anger screaming "What?! "


*Seeing Red* did not begin to describe the backlash that occurred from the rest of us when that gem was dropped. There was almost another person headed to the ER.

Yes, “Live and let live” includes the words live. It does NOT include the carte blanche to whip someone’s arse because that someone will live through it.

We take take all these steps forward as humans and then shit like this happens and we are forced to acknowledge how many, many, many more steps there are to go.

Life is hard enough for us all right now. How the fuck is this still happening?

It is one very pissed of St. Patrick’s Day over for me over here on Day 17 of the Slice of Life Writing Challenge for 2020.

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My penchant for Verbal Diarrhea has reached a new high. Or is that an all-time low? You decide.

The Scene: Where a lot of my early morning pre-caffeinated colorful commentary is created – my morning commute on the subway:

The cast: Two women conversing a little louder than they realized. One nosy Raivenne.


Even through I am heavy metal head bopping to Anthrax on my iPod, my smut monitor suddenly pings loudly –  to quickly eavesdrops when the word phallophilia is heard.

Wait… Whaaaat?

I mean it is 6:45 in the blessed morning – who says that? – I must have heard wrong, right? I reach in my pocket, press pause on my music and listen.

Oh hush! Most of you would have listened also for a moment also – don’t judge me!

Sure enough, the two women were indeed speaking on the attributes of a specific person they both knew. I was about to turn my music back up when one asked “Is there a technical word for getting your rocks off looking at dick imprints in grey sweatpants?”.

And I’ll be damned if my not-so-inner Luci-fer and her minions (Sarcasm Siren, Dirty-minded Diva, Verbal Virago et al), did not simultaneously enter my throat and vocalize.

Medectophalia.” Spews out before I can think to stop myself. Worse, I say it loud enough, that even though I am not looking at them, the two women know it’s addressed to them.

“Sorry didn’t mean to listen in.” I quickly say as they both turn and look at me. Damn my mouth!

“What’s the word?” the one sitting closest to me asks.

Naturally, once those chicks open my mouth and drop the bomb, they immediately depart en masse leaving me holding the detonator. Bitches!

Oh, well – in for a pence, in for a pound. –  is one of my many mottos for a reason as I go into pseudo professor mode.

“Medectophalia is a fetish: It is the excessive and uncontrollable sexual desire for viewing the underlying shape of the penis/labium in the crotch region of another person’s clothing. Otherwise known as getting one’s rocks off on moose knuckle and/or camel toe in Urban Dictionary lingo. Whereas the opposite, medectophobia, is the fear of such.”

Now, when I tell you I have NO idea where that bullshit came from, I mean it. While I know for fact medectoPHOBIA is a word, I had no idea whether medectoPHALIA existed.

Naturally, I hear those conniving inner bitches reappear as internal Greek Chorus applauding my aplomb. As always, I am both awed and appalled with how my mind works.

The two women and I then have a lively discussion of technical versus street slang terms we know until they disembark.  I immediately Google Medectophalia only to discover the term does not exist.

* My not-so-inner demons and their minions chuckle darkly. *

It does now.

Today is Day 29 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Queen Me with the Right Note

An online discussion came up regarding vinyl recommendation services. The complaint being what one asks for versus what one is presented with .

I say yes to Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, and Ed Sheran, and get John Legend as my first recommendation.


Not a damn thing.

I understood – don’t agree with, but understood – music profiling in brick and mortar stores. The two associates (African-Americans) who asked if I needed help had no idea of whom I spoke. I finally had to be blunt and ask for a white associate. The music I actually wanted was in my hands in less than five minutes after. It happens to me a lot given my music inclinations go against my presumed demographic. But that was face-to-face, vinyl recommendation services are online. How jacked up are the algorithms, that considering the exposure people have to so many genres of music these days thanks to the internet – it is disappointing they still can’t get it right, but sadly not surprising,

Today is Day 25 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Be Grateful

The path on the bus from my home to the train station leads past several tenement buildings and projects.  A part of City life is the occasional appearance of memorials for the recently departed. I’m ashamed to say, they are so much so a part of the scenery that while I look at them, I really don’t see them anymore.  At least, until this morning.

This morning as I pass, I actually noticed the memorial, this was somehow different and as I looked closer, I understood why. The large portrait was that of a baby. This life could not have been more than a couple of months if I am gauging this infant correctly.  Someone lost a baby. Do we  even want to go into all the reasons why the younger a life is when it departs from us, the more tragic it seems? No.  It just is.

I was conversing with a woman on the train about the frivolity of some of the rich when she jokingly queried “What happens when you’ve been there, done that?”  I got the joke of it, I did and I smiled at it, still…

I think of my sons, my friends, others and myself. We spend so much time a’bitchin’ and a’moanin’ about the things we can’t do, the things we want to do, the things we have yet to do. We wrap ourselves in the dreams of the next big adventure we often barely appreciate the act of the things we have done once they become memory.  All the things we’ve already done even the truly regrettable ones, we at least got to do them.

So right now, right now, I keep thinking about this newest angel looking down upon us who didn’t get to do anything but brighten someone’s life for the briefest moment in time and think…

“What happens when you’ve been there, done that?” …

…Be grateful.

Today is Day 23 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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It Is …

…what it is.

I woke up. I manage not to fall in the snow as I make it to work. I work.

I come home. I snack. I chat with my best friend for a bit to catch up.

I realize the time and what I have yet to do on this busy, yet ho-hum day, before I call it a night.

It is what it is….

Today is Day 22 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this post winter storm Thursday..
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Marching On

I’m waiting for the bus to head home, standing in snow, when I remember today is the second day of spring. Aaaah spring,….

…when thoughts turn to salt, shovels and snow blowers…?

Snow in spring

Not exactly what one pictures for a spring day, huh?

Yeah, I’m officially over Winter 2017.  Had enough of the lion’s roar, let’s hear some bleating before I start more bleeping.

Today is Day 21 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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To Friends Who Know Me Well

So this conversation snippet happened on the train ride home:

LS: So, angels are good girls that never got caught,
Good girls are bad girls who got caught and were sorry for their deed,
Bad girls are wicked girls who got caught and were sorry they got caught,
Wicked girls are bad girls who got caught and are not sorry – period
But then there are wicked girls who can’t get caught because they own up to their misdeed before it even happens, so what do you call them?

H (without batting an eyelash): Raivenne

Me (batting several lashes): Yup!


Today is Day 20 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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The Hardest Word

You don’t mess up often, Rai, but when you do, you apologize and fix it quick. I like that about you. 

My zodiac sign, Virgo, has the reputation of being a perfectionist. Yes, I try my damnedest to ensure I’m correct in everything, because in the words of Elton John:

Oh, it seems to me, “Sorry” seems to be the hardest worrrrrd. 

I abhor being at fault, let alone apologizing for it. So I try to avoid being put in a situation where that must occur like the plague.

Even when I’m purposely being offensive in a very mean way with my favorite tool of choice – cutting sarcasm – if I had to go there as the kids say it was very likely you earned it. So I’m not at fault, let alone sorry for hand delivering your just deserts. Granted, I am a Virgo raised by southern women – your just desserts will be served on silver platter with a lace doily and a shipload of mint julep charm, but it will be served.

Words I live by:
 If you can’t say something nice, say something clever but devastating.

Still, while I am a perfectionist, I’m not perfect. Thus, on those rare occasions I find myself in the position of being genuinely wrong (clutches non existent pearls!), I do believe in falling on my sword.

I have what I call the Sorry Triple A Plan: Apologize. Accept. Act.

Apologize:  The actual “I’m sorry” part of this. I try not say I’m sorry unless I truly am. “I’m sorry my delay in response created such problems on your end.”

I prefer I apologize.  “I apologize for the inconvenience”.

Accept:  When I know it’s my fault, I try to let person know that I understand where I felt I went wrong and register the damage and/or hurt done.

“I was awaiting response from my team. I should have kept you abreast of the situation so you could inform your team, but I did not. I should have handled that better.”

Act:  Where what I do speak louder than what I say. I seek to make amends to ease whatever stress/issues may have arisen due to my actions.

“I can offer a/b/c in light of my mistake. What would be preferable to you to work this out and ensure we’re on good ground to not let this occur in the future?”

I ensure I follow through on my deliverables in a timely fashion – if it’s at work. In my personal life I make sure I keep my word on whatever resolution. In either case I do my damnedest to not let whatever it was occur again.

That being said, I don’t wallow in it. I messed, I’ve apologized, we’ve worked it out. Do not bring it up again. No one likes dead horses except the glue factory, let’s move along.

Unless you want me to be clever but devastating, that is.

Today is Day 19 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Yums the Wurd

As part of the month long celebration of a friend’s birthday.  we had a birthday lunch at a Momofuku Noodle Bar. Yes, that is the actual name a small, but popular chain of an Asian noodle bar in New York City.  I’ve been to Momofuku a few times now. For a place renowned for their noodles, each time I’ve been there was for their chicken dinner, of which there is not one noodle to be found.

Let me present Delicious Exhibit A: Deep Fried Chicken and Spicy Sweet BBQ Wings, plus salad and tortillas in the covered black dish.

Momofuku Chicken Dinner

Momofuku Chicken Dinner

Really how gorgeous is that bowl of veggies? Romaine lettuce, mint and cilantro sprigs, with sliced mini carrots and radish. So colorful, it’s a work of art.

There were five of us at the table. There was still three pieces of chicken left over. That has never happened before. We all looked at each other as if to say “How did this happened?” We just couldn’t eat another bite.

Not even this:

Momofuku - A taste

Just a little something…

So naturally the birthday girl got to take the leftovers home, sans the little bit above of course.

You won this round Momofuku, we’ll get you next time.


Today is Day 18 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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Erin Go Montserrat!

Today is St. Patrick’s. Yes, it is celebrated here in the New York City with parades, the wearing of the colors of Ireland, consuming traditional Irish food and let’s be honest drinking -seriously a lot of drinking.  While it is a very festive occasion in several Major cities here in the U.S., it is not a national holiday here where schools, banks and government offices close. While many places celebrate it, what a lot of people don’t know is that Montserrat is the only other place outside of Ireland where the date is officially marked as a national holiday.

Montserrat, “The Emerald Isle of the Caribbean” Irish connections have long been a source of interest for local residents and tourists alike, and over the past two decades have made concerted efforts to bolster its Irish legacy and build upon perceived connections between present-day Montserrat and historic Irish communities. Its most prominent example of these being St. Patrick’s Day, that simultaneously commemorates the island’s Irish heritage and an uprising by Afro-Caribbean slaves and members of the island’s free black community on the same day in 1768.


t-shirt celebrating the 250th Anniversary of the Montserrat slave uprising on St. Patrick's Day 1768.

An officially designated national holiday, it has become a week-long festival that includes a parade in national dress, dinners, dancing, pub crawls and public talks.

Part of a St. Patrick's Day Parade in Montserrat

Part of a St. Patrick’s Day Celebration in Montserrat.

So to my best friend who is from The Emerald Isle of the Caribbean, Erin Go Braugh!


Today is Day 17 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
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