Entry tags:
Horrible Things part 2 - Today
Technically, this is just a 'horrible things I've participated in'. .
I stayed late at $NEW_JOB to get caught up on a few things, which meant I took a later bus home. Mistake #1.
There were no seats open, so I moved all the way to the back of the bus, and a very nice man who might as well have had "GANGSTA LIFE!" on his do-rag stood up and gave me his seat. We're talking serious stereotypewear, here. Saggy jeans, sports team jersey with a flannel and huge puffy jacket, at least four bright gold chains, one with a large dollar sign and the word 'GHETTO' on it, Gold grills, diamond stud earring, thick, chunky gold rings on many fingers, bright red do-rag, and shoes that probably cost more than my last car. I thanked him politely and took his seat, and started chatting with him. He was, as I said, a nice guy.
Keep that image in your head. It's important in a minute.
As we're standing there talking, I catch movement at about face level out of the corner of my eye. I have severe issues with unknown objects moving in the vicinity of my face, stemming from a lot of really un-funny and physically painful shit I'll leave out of this story, but suffice to say - unknown movement near my face = me looking and probably going into kill mode.
So I look. Mistake #2.
A short, ugly, clearly drunk guy was standing in the stairwell to the rear door of the bus, pants open, masturbating - or trying to; from what I could see, either he needs a little blue pill or God hates him a lot. He's doing this while leering at me. When my brain parsed that the unknown object moving near my face was, in fact, completely and pathetically harmless, I started laughing.
Not a nice, friendly laugh. A cackling, raucous, harpylike, maniacal, derisive, mocking laugh. Which gets the attention of my conversation companion, who turns further to look.The following conversation ensues:
Dude: Tell me all white men ain't hung like that?
Me: Hell, most white WOMEN ain't hung that poorly. That's some sad shit right there.
Dude: Maaan. Yeah, I mean, I knowed some brothas who ain't got much to speak, an' I know they's this old joke about white men havin' less'n that, but dayumn! That shit's like.. like..
Me: Microscopic?
Dude: No, that ain't the word..
Me:Minuscule?
Dude: Naw, don't start with 'm'..
Me: Congenitally small?
Dude: Yeah! That's it! Cuz that's gotta be some congenital birth defect shit right there in his hand. His hand covers it! What the fuck is up with that?!
Me: Nothing, apparently. Not so's you'd notice.
Masturbation Max: You want some?
Me: *insert another very loud, very mean laugh here*
The bus arrived at a bus stop, and the doors opened.
Dude: Yeah, I want some.. *puts hands on MM's shoulders, shoves him backward. MM's hands are.. occupied.. so he stumbles backwards off the bus* .. of you fuckin' goddamn perverts to stay the motherfuck off the bus, yo! Keep your shit in your pants or keep your ass off public transportation, ya damn fool!
Me: *smirks, laughs again*
Dude: I'd say gimme five, but not until I wash my damn hands.
MM: *starts yelling and running after the bus, screaming how he's gonna catch up and kick Dude's ass*
Which, of course, just made me laugh harder at the mental image of that dirty, perverted little twig of a guy trying to take on this huge thug-looking dude. It apparently struck everyone else around us as funny, because our section of the bus all started cracking up and pointing - so as we pulled away from the screaming little pervert, he'd see all of us, looking back at him and pointing and laughing.
Ah, justice.
[Edit: And this would be the second time, ladies and gents, that a man has pulled his peepee out near me on the bus and started doing the single-palm mambo. Clearly, I am an irresistible little minx.
... and that's funny, cuz I? Look like your average midwestern librarian chick, which hardly qualifies me as supermodel material.]
I stayed late at $NEW_JOB to get caught up on a few things, which meant I took a later bus home. Mistake #1.
There were no seats open, so I moved all the way to the back of the bus, and a very nice man who might as well have had "GANGSTA LIFE!" on his do-rag stood up and gave me his seat. We're talking serious stereotypewear, here. Saggy jeans, sports team jersey with a flannel and huge puffy jacket, at least four bright gold chains, one with a large dollar sign and the word 'GHETTO' on it, Gold grills, diamond stud earring, thick, chunky gold rings on many fingers, bright red do-rag, and shoes that probably cost more than my last car. I thanked him politely and took his seat, and started chatting with him. He was, as I said, a nice guy.
Keep that image in your head. It's important in a minute.
As we're standing there talking, I catch movement at about face level out of the corner of my eye. I have severe issues with unknown objects moving in the vicinity of my face, stemming from a lot of really un-funny and physically painful shit I'll leave out of this story, but suffice to say - unknown movement near my face = me looking and probably going into kill mode.
So I look. Mistake #2.
A short, ugly, clearly drunk guy was standing in the stairwell to the rear door of the bus, pants open, masturbating - or trying to; from what I could see, either he needs a little blue pill or God hates him a lot. He's doing this while leering at me. When my brain parsed that the unknown object moving near my face was, in fact, completely and pathetically harmless, I started laughing.
Not a nice, friendly laugh. A cackling, raucous, harpylike, maniacal, derisive, mocking laugh. Which gets the attention of my conversation companion, who turns further to look.The following conversation ensues:
Dude: Tell me all white men ain't hung like that?
Me: Hell, most white WOMEN ain't hung that poorly. That's some sad shit right there.
Dude: Maaan. Yeah, I mean, I knowed some brothas who ain't got much to speak, an' I know they's this old joke about white men havin' less'n that, but dayumn! That shit's like.. like..
Me: Microscopic?
Dude: No, that ain't the word..
Me:Minuscule?
Dude: Naw, don't start with 'm'..
Me: Congenitally small?
Dude: Yeah! That's it! Cuz that's gotta be some congenital birth defect shit right there in his hand. His hand covers it! What the fuck is up with that?!
Me: Nothing, apparently. Not so's you'd notice.
Masturbation Max: You want some?
Me: *insert another very loud, very mean laugh here*
The bus arrived at a bus stop, and the doors opened.
Dude: Yeah, I want some.. *puts hands on MM's shoulders, shoves him backward. MM's hands are.. occupied.. so he stumbles backwards off the bus* .. of you fuckin' goddamn perverts to stay the motherfuck off the bus, yo! Keep your shit in your pants or keep your ass off public transportation, ya damn fool!
Me: *smirks, laughs again*
Dude: I'd say gimme five, but not until I wash my damn hands.
MM: *starts yelling and running after the bus, screaming how he's gonna catch up and kick Dude's ass*
Which, of course, just made me laugh harder at the mental image of that dirty, perverted little twig of a guy trying to take on this huge thug-looking dude. It apparently struck everyone else around us as funny, because our section of the bus all started cracking up and pointing - so as we pulled away from the screaming little pervert, he'd see all of us, looking back at him and pointing and laughing.
Ah, justice.
[Edit: And this would be the second time, ladies and gents, that a man has pulled his peepee out near me on the bus and started doing the single-palm mambo. Clearly, I am an irresistible little minx.
... and that's funny, cuz I? Look like your average midwestern librarian chick, which hardly qualifies me as supermodel material.]