Terribly bitter, and bursting with potential.
Today I was on break and saw a customer I hadn’t seen for some time. She used to come in and get her daughter’s lunch meat, so since school let out I hadn’t seen her.
She came to talk to me, because I’m always so nice to her, and eventually got to asking me what I’m interested in, because I seem to have so much personality and come across as a creative individual. She thought I must be an artist or musician.
When I told her I wanted to be a writer, she gave me some encouraging words and told me she feels I have a book in me. Even if its not soon, she just knows ill end up successful.
That was such a nice thing for her to say to me, especially after the shitty day I had had.
Its also a little depressing, because throughout my whole life different people have basically told me they see potential in me, but it seems like there’s no way to get anywhere. Most of my friends are talented in their own ways, but we get stuck in shitty jobs just trying to make it through a day. There’s no time for hopes and dreams. There’s not time to fine tune talent and learn how to use it.
We all come from lower middle class white families and we get punished for it. We’ve grown up next to lazy, loud, piece of shit people who end up getting everything for nothing. We try to apply for food stamps or medicaid or anything at all to save us from homelessness and debt and we get told we have some education so we don’t need help.
We get told the minimum wage jobs we cling to give us too much for us to possibly need help. We live next to people who have six children from different fathers, sit outside all day on their expensive phones, and use their government checks to buy fur coats and crab legs. How could we not become bitter seeing someone doing nothing and receiving more than we have? We exhaust ourselves trying to do good jobs at work and end up in debt, hearing the neighbors complain the government just doesn’t give them quite enough.
How will we ever have time to use our potential when all of our energy and time is used working hard to just stay alive?
Now serving swanson ham.
Two old ladies come to the counter.
Lady1 – what kind of ham do you have?
Me – boiled ham, virginia, and honey are on sale for 4.99. Low salt ham, peppered, and hot are 5.99. Deitz and watson brand ham is 8.99.
Lady1: what flavors does the Swanson ham have?
Me – the what?
Lady2 – the Swanson ham! You just said you had swanson ham!
Me- uhm…the Deitz and watson ham? There’s boiled, honey, and virginia.
Lady1 – okay give me enough virginia ham for a sandwich. And do you have butterball lite turkey? I want enough for a sandwich.
Me- slicing the ham, then the turkey.
Lady2 – what’s that? Who’s that for? I’m next.
Me- your friend wanted this……
Lady2 – you ordered that? I thought you wanted ham.
Vomit.
I am not a fan of PDA. its not because I’m “jealous” of those with significant others, I just think it’s gross. Even when I have someone, I’m really only comfortable with a limited amount of affection in public.
So seeing this today literally made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
I live on a dead end hill. At the bottom of the hill is a long staircase that turns left at the end. There is a stone wall surrounding the staircase as it leads to the very busy street below.
It is not an invisibility wall. It is not a six foot high wall. It is a small wall. Therefore, when you sit on the stairs, which are on a hill and thus place you ABOVE the wall, I CAN STILL FUCKING SEE YOU.
So I’m walking home from work and I need to get up these stairs. From far away, I see two people sitting there. One, a very fat, pig faced woman, has her legs WIDE OPEN. The other, a small, dark, spanish looking man, is sitting on the step below her, between her legs.
As I walk closer, I can see he is rubbing her leg, and kissing it. Then I see him put one hand up higher, between her legs and under her shorts, as he continues rubbing her leg. Uh, ew.
It definitely looked like she was getting fingered as he caressed her. That’s just plain fucking gross. Its not like it was even a secluded area. It was a highly visible spot to be doing that, and the fact that they were both hideous made it even more disgusting.
Human beings are filthy, disgusting creatures – and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
My friend Mindsay
Years ago, my bff Mindsay Mohan and I wrote something on a napkin in the mall to entertain ourselves. We took a picture of the note before mailing it out to someone we knew, just to fuck with them.
She has this photo in her flickr account, and it was recently used in a web article (link below). Unfortunately, the best part of the note was strategically cut out. It once said at the end, “I wanna be on you.” Oh well, at least they used part of our genius.
http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2010-08/12/retargeting-ads-criteo
I stopped saving sean quotes, but here’s one anyway.
Sean came out and sat next to me on my lunch. He started talking at me.
Sean: so you ready to give this friendship thing another try to see if we could get closer to a relationship?
I gave him a blank stare.
Sean: yo, you finish that book about me yet with all my quotations? I forgot some of what I said, and I mean I waste it on you I could be using it on chicks and shit. Did I tell you I been shooting pornos? You kinda remind me of a housewife today. Oh I gotta be getting on my journey.
Then he walked to mcdonalds.
At least pay attention to what you’re wearing today.
I was in an antagonizing mood today, and was being sarcastically upbeat to cutomers all day. At one point I went up to the office to get some paperwork and as I was walking back, this adorable young man was bent over in the candy aisle.
His boxers were very visible and were covered in spades and hearts, clubs and diamonds. Just to be an ass, I walked past him and randomly asked him if he liked poker.
He looked at me weird and goes, “yea, I love poker.”
So I told him I was just wondering, because he looked like a big poker player.
He seemed like he wanted to say something, and started to a few times, then randomly asked if I knew what aisle tablecloths were in. I told him, and he still looked like a deer in headlights or something.
I think I freaked him out… he must have wondered how a complete stranger knew his favorite pastime.
I hope when he takes his pants off later tonight and sees the poker boxers he smacks himself in the head.
CLASSY!
I couldn’t snap a picture of the front.
I’m a Magnet For Weirdos.
First, at the bus stop, I’m minding my own business with my headphones on. A cab pulls up and driver looks at me. I shake my head “no,” which is the universal symbol for “I have absolutely no money and am not soliciting a taxi.”
The guy is saying something, so I take my headphones out to hear him.
“Where you going?” He asked, for no reason.
“I have no money.”
“But where you going?”
“I HAVE NO MONEY. ALL I HAVE IS A METROCARD THAT’S WHY I’M AT A BUS STOP.”
“Yea but where you going?”
“To white plains!” (Its like a 40 minute ride on the bus, 30 by car.)
“Oh,” he says, and WINKS AT ME. Then stays there for an awkward minute smiling, as if I was going to get in the car anyway.
I’m sorry, I am not a prostitute, nor do I look like one. So when you come up to a girl at a bus stop at 630am without her hailing a cab, and her repeatedly saying she has no money and she’s waiting for the bus, and you still try to get her in the car…. well it kinda looks like you’re expecting a little something in return for the ride.
Then, while on the bus, I notice a very manly looking guy. He looks maybe Indian or some sort of Middle Eastern decent. With dark skin and a flowing cotton outfit. Well, I notice his sandals, and how one foot is normal, but the other has five neatly painted toes. As in, five HOT PINK toe nails.
On the way home, I forgo the first bus because that special man I had written about, the one who screams “ugly racist” to everyone, was getting on it. As I waited for the next one, the bus stops in front of me, and I’m lost in my own thoughts staring at the doors, waiting for them to open. Then I realize, I am w.a.I.t.I.n.g. So I glance in at the driver and he’s staring at me and laughing. He was just fucking with me and not opening the doors.
I constantly wonder if I’m one of few people that consistently has weird things happen to them, or notices unusual things. Crazy shit ALWAYS happens to me, like that time a few years ago when I was walking home and a car pulled up and drove slowly next to me. Then the driver rolled his window down and started chatting with me. I ignored him and he kept trying to talk to me. Eventually, rolling backwards on the street, he got mad at me and yelled “ATTITUDE, MOMMY. ATTITUDE.” Then drove off.
Gosh sir, I’m awfully sorry for my attitude at your unsolicited advances and creepish stalking of me.
And last week, I got off the bus and started walking down a narrow side street. I see a car stop on the street and pull over. It was just waiting there. I said to myself….I bet its a guy gonna start shit with me.
Sure enough, as I walked past it, I hear, “Excuse me!”
Benefit of the doubt, I turned. Maybe he was lost.
“Wannaride?” He yelled.
“Nope. I’m good.” I kept walking. He rolled a little forward to ask me if I was sure I didn’t want a ride. Then he asked my name and if I lived around there. So I gave him my fake name and said I did live there and there was nowhere to drive me to. He still kept talking as I walked away.
And I have so many more stories. A part two will come shortly.
Church Is Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It
On one of those church billboards, it said in text-slang
FYI ITS NO LOL 2 B w/o jesus
A Special Man’s Thoughts on Fellow Bus Riders
In 2006, I worked right next to my current job, so I’ve seen a lot of the same people in my travels on the bus. One man in particular, I still see all of the time.
He is quite a special man.
He is short, bald, black, mentally challenged, and has eyes that point in two different directions. He is always on the bus.
One day in 2006, he was at the bus stop I was heading towards. He saw me walking to the stop and he saw the bus about a block away. I had more than enough time to reach it. He was worried for me though, and started yelling “come on, you can make it! Ill tell the bus to wait!” And other such things.
He then proceeded to tell me about his sister buying him new sneakers and a new metrocard. I listened politely and was nice to him.
The next time I saw him, he started telling people “thas my fwiend,” as he pointed to me. Again, I was polite.
Another time, he sat next to me on the bus and kept talking and talking and talking. I was polite and talked back. Special people can be lonely too, right?
Well, one day a few weeks ago we were on the same bus again. A tall white man was waiting by the stairwell to get off, minding his own business, when out of nowhere the special man began yelling, “Don’t you touch me! Don’t touch me!”
Everyone on the bus turned to stare. The poor white man was like “I didn’t touch you! I’m nowhere near you!”
The special man started screaming, “driver! Driver! He touched me! He hit me!” The other man just said he did not.
THEN, the special man started saying the other man was a racist, and there were other black people on the bus. He pointed to a black teen in the middle of the bus and yelled that he would help him. The black people wouldn’t let him be hit by a racist. An ugly racist.
Now the white man lost his temper and yelled that he was not a racist, that man was crazy. Special man kept calling him an ugly racist, saying get off the bus. White man said back, “who are you caling ugly, you freak? You get off the bus!”
Luckily, at this point the bus reached the man’s stop so he got off and escaped the special man’s abuse. But instead of quieting down, the special black man turned around and saw saw a spanish teenage girl sitting behind him. She was minding her own business, with her headphones in.
The special man said, “shut up! You talk too loud! You’re a racist! Go sit in the back of the bus! I don’t want to see your ugly face!”
The poor girl at first was willing to ignore him. But as he kept repeatedly yelling at her, calling her an ugly racist, she said “who are you calling ugly? Look at you! You go sit in the back of the bus!”
Special man started his whole “there’s other black people on the bus” thing again. Oddly enough, none of the “other black people” were willing to help him out. The entire bus was staring and silently laughing at his outburts.
That’s when I got off the bus.
Unfortunately for me, the very next day he was on a different bus that I happened to get on. There was only one seat on the bus, so I sat down in it. I couldn’t fit all the way in next to the other person, so I kind of sat diagonally, but I was staing out the front windows.
Out of nowhere I hear, “stop looking at me!” Special man was in a seat nearby and somehow figured I was staring at him, thinking racist thoughts. “Turn around! Don’t look at me! You’re ugly! You’re an ugly racist!” So I stood in the back of the bus, away from random-outbursts-retard.
We both got off at the bus depot. He was walking before me, and we both crossed the aisles to get to the other bus stop. He turned around out of nowhere and told me to go away, I was ugly. An ugly racist, ugly, go away, ugly, ugly, ugly. He just kept repeating it and all I said was something like “what the fuck” as I walked to the other bus.
I’ve seen him constantly between 2006 and the present, and I’ve always been polite and kind to him. So keep in mind after his outburst the other day, I planned to never look at him again and tell him to fuck off if he ever spoke to me again.
Well. This MOTHER FUCKER was just on the bus with me and had the balls to wave to me and say hi. What the hell! I just ignored him, but I would have liked to smack him so hard his cross eyes saw straight.
There’s other stories about him. More to come.
