Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Callipygian Earnestness

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):

So, while holding a bag  that clearly contains my lunch in hand, I am about to enter the revolving door of my office building when I spy a colleague exiting. I stand to the side and wait for him to exit.

Seeing my bag he inquires of it contents.  I tell him it’s “poison”.  I have no idea why, but I can tell by his expression that he doubts the veracity of my statement.

“What?  You were warned years ago to never trust a big butt.” I say as I make it a point to smile broadly.

He’s stumped for all of .1 seconds before he starts grinning.

“I can’t play with you.” He throws up his hands and walks away, shaking his head while laughing.

Was it something I said?

– blame Bell Biv DeVoe!

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
====================

Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 16, 2013

I’d like to teach the world to sing… the B-52’s?

It started out as a typical weekday morning on the subway coming to work. Me, I’m sitting looking all pretty, yet professional, listening to my iPod as I wait for my station to come up. I have various playlist to match my various music moods. The list for this morning was “Move” as in over 200 songs that make me want to get up and boogie. Since I am on a subway in the middle of rush hour, I manage to restrain the urge to dance down to simple head nods and toe taps as I ride to work.

For those unfamiliar with mass transit subways let me give you a short synopsis of the phenomenon of riding in a subway car during rush hour. Think of nearly 200 people, that you don’t know and thus barely acknowledge, in a crowded space. You mostly ignore the existence all the others around you. Some do it by reading, others by snoozing, others still by listening to music and/or any combination thereof. Other than the collective moans and groans that arise when a train is delayed for whatever reason, unless you are with friends to speak with, there is very little interaction between people on a train. Eye contact on a subway is limited to ensuring you’re not walking into someone, or as a quick form of apology if you accidentally make physical contact with someone. Because even if you take the same train at the same time every day for years, there are maybe only a handful of people you will see on a regular basis enough to recognize them on sight. Even then, the most you may do to acknowledge them is a head nod before closing in on the microcosm of your own personal space again. Now, times that one subway car by the average ten cars that comprises each train. Next, times that by the hundred or so trains, which run during the core span, that is the morning rush hour (roughly 5am to 9am). There are other nuances involved, but welcome to my Monday through Friday. Now you’ll have a better understanding of why the following is of note.

I should note that at this point the train is two-thirds empty, as the majority of passengers have exited at the many stations that come before mine. It’s so empty, I can easily count exactly how many people are in the car. Expert commuters know exactly where to stand on the platform and on the train itself for optimal movement, when entering and exiting a train and I am no exception. As the station where I disembark approaches, I rise. I am not thinking much of it as I half walk, half dance my way to the door that I will need to exit.

I didn’t know I was singing out loud (loud enough to be heard well anyway), until I realized someone has joined in on the song at exactly the right part. Remember, I have on my ear buds. I do not blast my music, so there is no way he can hear the song except by standing next to me and hearing snatches of my singing. I looked to my left and a male, not listening to his own music, is nodding his head in a teasing way to mine as again he comes in right on time with his line of the song telling me to knock a little louder baby (I’m guessing some of you, knowing the song, are smiling right now). So, what’s a girl to do? I comply along with him and the song. He is definitely singing with me, and to make things even more spontaneous and amusing, a woman sitting by the door joins to match my part. In the spirit of the more the merrier, by the time the train reaches the station there are five of us dancing, laughing and belting out the ending parts of the B-52’s Love Shack. Dare I add, much to the horror/amusement of the three other people in the car with us? Hell, they probably thought we were a mini flash mob. It was perfect timing as two of us (the guy who initially joined in and I), left the train just as the song ended, waving our byes to the others and then ourselves as we went our separate ways.

You gotta love the power of a good, upbeat (and wacky), song to break even the most steadfast of nonchalant commuters out of their shells on occasion.

You’re WHAT?!