Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: You’re Not

I am sitting on the train, minding my business, reading a book when I notice a hand waving slowly to get my attention. I look up at the smiling woman standing before me.

“Good morning.” I return the smile.
“I just wanted to say I love your outfit. It looks really nice on you.”

Before I could finish saying “Why thank you!” we hear someone just off to the side.

“You would look better if you had on heels and not sneakers.”This comes from a guy standing beside her.

“Who the hell asked you?” The woman glares at him.

“I was just paying her a compliment.”

“No you were not.” I shake my head, bookmarking my spot. Not that there is ever a good time for such nonsense, but it’s early in the morning and I haven’t had coffee yet! It’s a bit not good.

I love your outfit is a compliment. And thank you again by the way.” I smile again at the woman, then turned back to him and continued. “You would look better if you had on heels is a completely unasked for critique designed to shame me into dressing the way YOU feel I should look for your acceptance and viewing pleasure. Neither of which I consented to. I guarantee you that when I made my clothing choices this morning my prevalent thought was not oooh let me put on some stilettos so I can be the objectified personification for some guy’s possible shoe fetish ideal of how I should look.”

Because I whisper like a fog horn, my voice carries. A few snickers verifies this, but obstinate, he presses his point, “Still, you have to admit it would look better.”

And now I’m annoyed.

“Even if I agreed with you, which I do not, do you expect me to run home and change just for you? Are you my…? Actually, wait…” I make a show of lifting my sunglasses as I look him up and down carefully assess him. “No, I’m right, you’re not.” I shake my head, having made my decision.

I let my shades fall back into place as I return to reading my book, mentally dismissing him.

“I’m not?” he asks, understandably confused,  “I’m not what?”

The man sitting beside me face palms and shakes his head. The woman who complimented me is snickering lightly, both having gathered the point which has clearly sailed over the wannabe Project Runway‘s fashion guru Tim Gunn’s head. 

“I took off my sunglasses to be sure,  but I  was correct in my initial assessment.” I explained with the exaggerated patience one reserves for speaking to a misbehaving child in which they are in no position to discipline. “You’re not my physician. You’re not my children. You’re not my best friend. You’re not a deity. You’re not any of my lovers.” His eyebrows rise at lovers, but I ignore him. “Not that it would necessarily change my opinions in regards to my wardrobe choices, but when it comes to the very select few whose opinions I would at least take into consideration, you’re not one of them. So sod off! But since we’re putting in opinions where not asked, let alone wanted here’s mine: you looked so much better with your mouth shut, can you go back to that look?”

I stare at him waiting for a retort. After a moment of annoyed silence from him, I don my best Billy Crystal impersonation:

“You look, MARH-velous dahling!”

I guess the next station was his stop, at least that is where he got off. It as better than my telling him where he could get off. 

It is Day 11 of the March Slice of Life Writing Challenge. Stop in and see how others are slicing it up!

Slice of Life logo

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – In Lo Places

On the train this morning half not-listening to a subway sermon being held by a middle-aged, whatever that is, gentleman by the door. I generally do not listen to such at all; usually turning up my iPod on it, but apparently the Lord knew the poor soul vying for the stairway to heaven needed a little push in the right direction, even if from a heathen.

The minister* makes an exclamation that sounded strange, but I wasn’t sure and shrugged it off to having an Antoinette moment and misheard him. (Hi Antoinette!) When he repeated it and a couple of teenagers within earshot, clearly as dirty-minded as I, started giggling – it confirmed it for me.

Rai: Uh, excuse me? Sir?

He looks to see who addressed him, so I raised my hand. I think he was about to come over to me and talk shop, but takes one look at my purple hair, decides otherwise and stays by the door. Well, I darn sure was not getting out of my seat. Now, had he any sense, he would have ignored me, at least until I made a bigger pest of myself, but I was counting on his being such a man of God that he could not risk/resist turning his back on a sinner as I in such a public forum as the subway. Alas, I was right as he visibly steeled himself before acknowledging me from the door.

Minister: Yes, my sister? 

So, he wants to have this conversation out loud? Fine. By his tone he clearly expects a problem from me, which of course now made me more than happy to oblige.

Raivenne: 1. I’m not your sister and 2. You’re new at this aren’t you?

M: New?

R: New at subway preaching, or at least nervous, because you’re misquoting a saying and don’t realize it.

His look of incredulous combined with chagrin was well worth the price of admission. I truly wished I had something to drink, so I could take a sip to hide what I knew was a devilish grin starting to spread along my lips. After all how dare a purple-haired wretch such as myself question him?

M: Are you questioning the Word?

R: Never. I am questioning your word as you are misquoting His and a classic exclamation.

M: What do you mean?

R: Yes, the bible uses both lo and behold, but not together as you’re thinking. 

A woman sitting across from me starts nodding. I did not need the confirmation, but it was nice to have.

M: And what do you know of the Word?

R: Enough to know that what you’re saying, though attributed to the bible, is really a secular phrase.  It’s “lo!” as in hello or look and “behold” as in to see. Not twisted around as you’ve said it.

And because I am a person who is in for a penny-in for a pound, when it comes to being an ass, I could not resist adding…

R: Because, I seriously doubt Christ would ever say “Ho and be lowed”. Not even to Mary Magdalena.

Well, that did it!

The minister walks over to me as he flips through his Holy Bible. He flips, stops, looks, flips again – presumably in search of “lo and behold”. His whole body reads Oh, I’m about to shut you the hell up, all the way up to the point that he realized he’s not. He snapped the bible shut and glared at me.

R: Bible got your tongue?

The woman across from me snorted. I did not bother to hide my evil grin as the train pulled into a station and he left.

I did say I was an ass, no?

*I use minister here strictly in the sense of one who ministers the Word to others. I have no idea whether the gentlemen in question was ordained.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – Let Me Count…

In dVerse ~Poets Pub the conversation was about September and how it was going so far. In my narcissistic mind it came out as asking what do I love about the month and responded accordingly. I place my response here with a few more additions and… well you’ll understand soon enough.

What do I love most about September? Hmmm… Let me count the ways.

* After a long hot summer with no official days off since July 4th here in the U.S., it begins with a three-day weekend holiday (Labor Day).
* It’s my birthday month!
* FOOTBALL (Are you ready for some? I am! Go Giants!)
* It’s my birthday month!
* Autumn, my favorite season, begins.
* It’s my birthday month!
* Though my commute slows down because of it – the kids go back to school.
* It’s my birthday month!
* I get to start wearing some of my favorite cool weather outfits again.
* It’s my birthday month!
* The U.S. Open is back.
* It’s my birthday month!

* At month’s end I’ll get to hang out and party with some insanely fun people.

* It’s my birthday month!
* My annual three-week vacation starts soon. Oh! And did I mention…
* It’s my birthday month!!
🎶 These are a few of my favorite things… ! ♬
Happy September People!

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Toot

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries aka the crap that comes out of my mouth sometimes that surprises even me.


A little ego tripping twixt myself and a recent attendee of one of my classes with whom a fun rapport developed via email exchange.

Me:  Weren’t you supposed to email me and remind me to send you this information?

Erstwhile Student:  I had full faith in you that you would remember 😉 Thanks for a seriously awesome training day! You rock…but I’m sure you already knew that.

Me:  * clutches pearls and gasps *

Why, it would be far too immodest of me to self-accolade in such an unseemly manner! I cannot openly concede the methodical superiority in which trainings held under my exacting tutelage are conducted. It would merely serve to further exemplify the depth of all other instructors lacking and that is unkind and unfair.  Luckily, I’m not fair, kind or modest and the horn in which I personally toot is often of a decibel suitable to guide coastal ships in inclement weather.  😉

Besides, the class is only is good as the attendees, many thanks to you for being an equally awesome student.

Erstwhile Student:  LOL! Oh, if only an eighth of my technical classes were even half  as entertaining as yours. Thanks!

Note to my fellow trainers, instructors and teachers reading this. JUST KIDDING!!!!  As I said ego tripping, but it is always wonderful to receive such emails acknowledging your work.

Let’s see how others are slicing through their Tuesday…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Don’t Believe Me Just Watch

A friend of mine posted this fun video on her Facebook page…

Fully aware of the very likely end result of my even attempting such maneuvers, this was my two cents on the subject:

If I tried that I would be on my behind in no time flat. It would be more like:

🎵Stop! Wait a minute! Gettin’ off the floor ’cause my butt hit it*. 🎶

*The line between the musical notes sung in tune to a line from the song that is playing.

So go right ahead and insert all the puns on the extent of my current forms of strenuous of exercise such as run my mouth, jump to conclusions, jog my memory et cetera right here…

Because yes, while I admire Carson Dean’s impressive free style dance moves on the treadmill as a form of exercise, I am quite cognizant of where my physical capabilities lay, and that is down, as is lay down, not dancing on a treadmill – unless it’s turned off. And even then, with my two left feet, with nine toes on one of them, I am proof positive that not all black people can dance, not that it stops me, but trust me, you don’t really want to see that.

Let’s see how others are getting their Uptown Funk on this 18th  day of the challenge:


Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Never Been Told

Chatting with an acquaintance on the subway this morning, she and I are politely, but nonetheless giggling at shared memories and the fact that I have clearly caught the eye of the male sitting across from me. I’m wearing mirrored sunglasses and one of the things I love most about them is that while my head can be facing you, you have no way of knowing with certainty if I am in fact looking at you. It comes in handy for ignoring the guy who is using every non-verbal attempt short of semaphores to subtly garner.

Knowing he’s being ignored, I give him moxie points for getting out of his seat to stand directly in front and say “Hello.” My acquaintance grins broadly as even I cannot ignore what’s less than three feet in front of me. Thus I look up and return the greeting.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re very beautiful?” He smiles almost bashfully, and damn it all to hell, the Grand Canyon of dimples craters his cheeks. Because who adores cute guys with deep dimples?-This gal.

“Why thank you.” I smile beguilingly in return. “But honestly, look at me. Do you really think I’ve never been told that before?”

To his credit he grins undeterred and the canyon gets deeper. He fixes me with a brown doe-eyed stare as he gathers the gumption to continue. “Fair enough” He nods sheepishly at last, “I’m almost to my stop, I’d still like to ask you out to dinner.”

“You can ask, but the answer will be no.”

I know age is just a number and all that hoo-hah, but the thought of this going down the presumed natural procession and my one-day having to introduce him to the Baal and Beelzebub tag-team duo known as my sons gives me just pause. It takes everything I have to not guffaw in his earnest face at the thought of the scenario of my grown sons giving me the side-eye for dating someone likely ten years their junior. The train pulls into the next station and I can tell by his rueful expression, this is his stop. He starts to speak, but I quickly cut him off.

“Look, I’ve got acne scars from my teens older than you.  Thank you, really, but no. You better hurry before you miss your stop.” I say dismissively. Peripherally I can see my acquaintance’s jaw come slightly unhinged at my words. I ignore her, fixing the would-be Lothario with a pointed stare that I know he can glean, even with my sunglasses on. He nods once, turns and exits the train. I exhale not even realizing I had held my breath until it came rushing out of me.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a bitch?” She shakes her head at me laughing, watching as the doors close quickly behind him.

“Why thank you.” I smile. “But honestly, look at me. Do you really think I’ve never been told that before?”

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: More Monday Morning Madness

I am on the subway, on my way to work, minding my own business when this happens:

I am reading my graphic novel when a masculine hand suddenly hovers into my view forcing me to look up. I know my resting bitch face was on in full force as I was at an interesting plot twist in the story and was not happy about the interruption.

Him: I just wanted to say “you’re beautiful” to my future ex-wife.

My exact initial thought: No, really?  Not that there’s ever a good time for such bullshit, but really dude? First thing on a Monday morning? Get the fuck outta here!

I was considering whether I should pull a Luis Suarez (the biting soccer player from Uruguay), on the hand still hovering over my novel or only verbally chew out the idiot when I’m pretty sure my resting bitch face quickly morphed into my resting I’ll cut a bitch face as our eyes made contact and he just as quickly withdrew his hand and grinned. And just when I thought my already low opinion of him could not decrease more – it did. He had on grillz. Seriously, he was wearing grillz.

What. The. And. Bleeeeeep?

The amount of jewelry  in his mouth could have fed a starving child in a third world country for a couple of months. Besides I thought that nonsense was finally out of style, having it was only adding to rapidly declining thoughts of him. Not knowing what I was dealing I opted for a third choice. – and please note the following exchange is happening on a crowded subway during morning rush hour.

Me (sounding official): Would you, whoever your are, take me, whoever I am, for your wife?

Him (confused, but playing along): I would.

Me:  I now pronounce us, whatever and whatever.  You may not kiss the whatever. I want a divorce!

Him (turns and walks toward the doors): Good, I’m out of here!

Me (snorts, neck rolls and snaps fingers): Poof baby! Don’t let the sliding doors hit ya where the good Lord split ya!

He exits the train at the next stop and I open my graphic novel.

Woman sitting next to me (chuckling): Damn! And I thought the Kim Kardashian marriage to that basketball player was short!

Me (deadpan): It was a good run while it lasted, but in the end it was like we didn’t even know each other any more.

It’s only Monday morning folks.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hung Up

Oh dear me!

As I am walking out the ladies room, a colleague is walking out of the adjacent men’s room. My earring chose that moment to drop  from my ear and we both bent to retrieve it. As we rose I observed that he needed to “XYZ” and whispered such to him.  He was so embarrassed as all get out that he full body slammed into the men’s room door when he spun around to run back in and adjust the issue. Unfortunately, that only made things worse as he bounced off the door causing more of an issue. Guess who now knows that said colleague a) clearly is commando today and b) is hung.

I somehow kept a straight face as I quickly turned to walk away and nearly walked into another co-worker a couple of steps away. By the expression on her face I knew she saw…

“Was that his…?”
“Hamm as in Jon?”

The same male colleague exits the men’s room again, everything now in its proper place this time. He sees us standing there, clearly knowing what’s being discussed and all but runs down the corridor to get away.

My co-worker nods, still clearly impressed by the glimpse she saw earlier. Then looks at me rolling her eyes at the bad Jon Hamm joke reference. “That’s so cheesy, you can do better than that.”

“Perhaps” I nod grinning, “but now I think I want croque monsieur for lunch.”


Let see how others are slicing stories up at Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers










Two Writing Teachers : Weekly Slice of Life Writing Challenge

Verbal Diarrhea Diares: On Bended Knee

I’m in Starbucks waiting in line to order a chai latte. I happen to be standing by the fridge unit where the yogurt parfaits, salads, sandwiches et cetra are kept. The line, as usual, is long and formed a curve around.  A guy opposite me on the curve politely says excuse me and ask to look at the items in the fridge.  I’m in line, but I manage to step back a smidgen to give him a better view. When he leans over to visually scan the items and reaches out for something, the back of his hand accidentally brushing against my thigh lightly. He snatches his hand back apologizing profusely.  It’s a small space between me, the person in line in front of me and he in between us, shit happens, I wave him off ignoring him.

Not surprisingly , there’s some sort of traffic jam at the cash registesr and the line doesn’t move for a good two minutes and “shit happens” again.  He is on one knee as he picks up items and puts them back “deciding”.  This is clearly not an accident.  His friend who is still in queue at their original spot, looks at the idiot clearly surprised by his behavior. He glances at me, who is clearly about to catch a case on this mofo, and suddenly becomes interested in a spot on a wall far, far away.  So it’s like that huh? No problem.

I look down at Tweedledumb “Honey, I know I smell good down there, but from that position you either need to get up out of my way, ask for my hand in marriage or commence cunnilingus immediately, your choice.”

He turns beet red, knocking over a basket with various coffees for sale in his haste to stand, much to the amusement of those who heard me, especially his friend who called him an ass and laughed in his face.

“You sure you don’t want to take me up on the last offer?”  I ask as the line finally moves, sparking more snickering.  He quickly shakes his head in the negative and finds that same far off spot his friend found earlier.  Yes, I’m evil.

I place my order and the idiot and his friend wind up waiting together with others for our respective purchases.  I have my earbuds on, but the music is playing low so I can hear when they call my name. I can also hear Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber speaking low off to the side.  Apparently the hand brushes against me were accidental, but he wasn’t going to apologize again until he had stood up.  And while I was being facetious when I said it to him, apparently I really did smell good to him while he was down there. He was trying to decide if it was me or the fruit in the fridge that he smelled when I busted him.

I did not hear the result of his ‘analysis’ as my name was called then, but me being me I just had to have one last word. Chai in hand I whispered as I passed him.

“Your loss, I taste *divine*!”

Repeat: Yes, I’m evil.

Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Writing Challenge

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Premature Libation

While (im)patiently waiting for my Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte to be made, a barista calls out for Jack. When Jack retrieves his purchase, he grins with pride as he hoists the drink in salute to the female friend/colleague/whatever standing beside him.

“I came faster.”

No, I sincerely did not know the man at all.

No, I sincerely could not resist.

No, I sincerely did not care.

“You know most guys do not admit that out loud or with pride.” I grinned.

Thankfully yes, he and his female friend/colleague/whatever had a sense of humor and laughed.