A Quarter Life Crisis

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Showing posts with label Mid-Week Nonsense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mid-Week Nonsense. Show all posts

Midweek Nonsense: Am I to Believe that Thursday’s are just Batsh*t Crazy

This is the R7 - the train I actually catch to go downtown to work!


Now maybe it was the fact that I was riding the train, or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s Thursday but today was another peculiar one. Again, started with hitting the snooze, maybe I should avoid this feature going forward. Thankfully I fed the cats out of their dish instead of leaving the bag of cat food on their mat.

In any event I was running a little late, no doubt due to snoozing, and as I hustled out of the apartment I noticed I was missing my gloves. I am a creature of habit and if one thing is out of place it throws a black hole in my day. Anyway I was missing my black speckled gloves so I substituted with my purple stripe. As I made my way to the train, per habit, I reach into the front pocket of my bag to grab my ear buds. To my horriprise, I was missing the ear buds as well. Since I was running late I had no time to turn around and right the wrong. Braving the element without music is pretty devastating in my world.

Not to mention today was as cold as a witches tit-tay, I mean blustery. Large gusts of what I like to call Philarctic (combination of Philadelphia and Arctic) air molested my inner thighs with each long legged stride. Believe it or not, I don’t wear dress pants in the winter opting instead to wear skirts.

Once I was on the train and could again feel my fingers and toes I whipped out the trusty iPhone and settled in for the 20 minute ride downtown. I was seated with my back to the main cabin while facing one other passenger. I detest this view because I like to look at everyone on the train and make up stories about their lives based on their appearance. The passenger I was facing seemed normal enough, in that college professor sort of way. He was wearing a sweater with a button up shirt underneath, brown corduroy pants, loafers and an oversized black pea coat, very warm and sensible. I noted he had freckles like two of my uncles an uncommon but highly noticeable trait in black Americans.

I smiled as I sat down next to him and quickly busied myself with reading blogs. Since I didn’t have soulful sounds to soothe me on the trip downtown I could at least get a heads up on my blog reading for the day. With head tilted I could still see the College Professor out of my peripherals, not that I was watching him but hey thieves come in all shapes, sizes and colors, you can never be too careful.

After about 10 minutes or so the College Professor whips out an iPhone but it doesn’t look like he’s reading anything or answering a call, more like he’s trying to get an angle to take a picture. Initially I pay this no mind and keep reading blogs but then it kind of looks like he’s taking a picture of me. I brush this off as my mind playing tricks on me but after another minute or two it really looks like he’s trying to take picture of me so I stop reading and give him the WTF are you doing face. When he catches my glance he looks super guilty and quickly pulls his phone back and looks out the window. About two minutes later this whole cycle of events plays again, ODD!

By this time I’m heated and a little torn. Part of me wanted to grab his phone and see if he’d actually snapped a shot of me and the other part was talking me off the ledge. I don’t like when right and left brain are not on one accord. Of course I was too distracted to continue reading so I let my eyes burn a whole in his head. I stared the College Professor down for the rest of the ride. I’m sure this made him uncomfortable but I’d prefer he get a little shrinkage from fear vs growth from perverted arousal on my dime. Miraculously he was finished fiddling with this phone.

Part of me wanted to put this perv on blast, air him out for the whole train to see what a loser he is. I stopped myself from doing this because I could have been completely wrong. Maybe he was reading something and holds his phone awkwardly as if he were taking a picture, me no know!

As we arrived at Suburban Station he actually reached out his hand in an attempt to touch my shoulder. Luckily I still prescribe to the Matrix school of defense and ducked his shoulder tap Neo style. He quickly pulled his hand back as I said, “Why are you trying to touch me? If you need to get off the train, you can say excuse me and I will make room.”

He mumbled, “OK well this is my stop, I need to get off.”

Even though it was also my stop I let him exit the train completely before I picked up my purse and made my way out the door. Maybe it’s me but I think I need to stop taking the train in the morning.

Did I make more of this situation than I should have? Would you have asked him if he took a picture of you given the exchange of events? Was I wrong to pitch a bytch when he tried to touch my shoulder?



Mid Week Nonsense: Green Eyes of Jealousy



Under normal circumstances I am not a jealous person. I rarely ask The Spaniard who he was with or where he’s been. It’s not because I don’t care…well a little of it is because I don’t care but to some degree I operate under the system that any dirt that you do will eventually come to light. My battles with him come down to when I’m actually in his presence. He incomparable to any other knows how to trample my last nerve. And I’m not a violent person but I’ve wanted to, in the not so recent past, punch him in the face MMA style.

But yesterday I felt something odd. We were talking, just chatting really about nothing in particular. OK we were talking about nude beaches and if I agreed with him that they were a no go. In honesty I don’t care. My concern, be respectful. If a woman or man for that matter drops trou at the beach it isn’t for your viewing pleasure, this ain’t the sckrippa club. Don’t ogle some chick because she’s got a great body and cause Mr. Happy to get…you know Happy!

Sidenote I don’t have an issue with sckrippa clubs either, if you wanna pay for something folks show for free be my guest just don’t come to me afterwards smelling of rachet gutter butt hos or classy tramp perfume. Both will get you major side eye action.

He kept going on and on about men wearing shorts above the knee which he also considers a no go. I told him that if his inner metrosex sought my approval for such, he had my blessing. Considering his partial European upbringing I expect latent metrosexual behavior…it’s kind of a given. American men are overly masculine while the rest of the world, save for the Caribbean islanders, march the masculinity/femininity thin line.

Yes I know I just stereotyped men, whatever it’s my unscientific biased opinion so lump it.

None of this made my pressure rise or my antennae perk. But mid conversation just as one passenger left and another entered his cab the wind shifted. Granted the nude beach convo was going nowhere but I was just bored enough to continue with it a little while longer. There was a casual exchange between him and the rider, clearly someone he knew. Most of these people I recognize by name but not this one. I could hear her voice, soft, happy and young I’d bet money between 25-30 give or take a year or two. She asked him about his day, he answered in Spanish, mas o menos (rough translation alright literal translation more or less moving right along). Then this chick asked him to spot her some money to get lunch and he agreed, where they do that at??????

What did I listen to? Is this normal passenger cabbie talk or some other hashish that requires sleuthing? And I totally disapprove of the flirty Spanish talk. Anyway, antennae perked pressure slightly above normal I was at a loss for words. This never happens. Normally I am quick tongued but I immediately felt white hot with anger impeding my ability to talk. I kept turning the small but very telling conversation between this not so random passenger and The Spaniard around in my head. Then he awkwardly mumbled something like, I’ll talk to later ok, dial tone.

This is the same man who called me back angry after I accidently hung up the phone on him screaming about never ending a conversation with OK. He never ends any conversation even if he’s angry with me by saying talk to you later or OK. He always says I’ll see you soon hun or bye love…am I tripping?

Am I becoming one of those girls that sniff tests? Have I morphed into that girl? You know the one who sits outside of her boyfriend’s house/apartment when she knows he’s home and calls him to ask where he is to see if he lies? Did I just stumble into the realm of crazy jealous? Am I taking a brief conversation between casual acquaintances out of context? Is my gut right when it tells me to bring this up in random conversation to see if he stutters and if I get a whiff he’s lying about this bish chuck the deuces? See and there you have it I just called some female I don’t know from jump street a foul name at the hint she’s drinking my kool-aid.

I have no clue where jump street is and I’m not even sure where that colloquialism comes from. Not to mention I’ve declared ownership over The Spaniard, this isn’t 1815 as far as I can surmise slavery no longer exists.

This is weird crazy jealous woman hashish I know it is but I can’t stamp the thought out of my head. I’m obsessing about it a little. And you know what I blame this on, my current employment situation…if I were consulting busy my mind wouldn’t have a chance to over-process nonsense. Oh see the right side of my brain, you know the practical side that processes things logically, told me to stop this hours ago, but the left side, creative domain also known as drama girl central won’t let it go hence the blogpost.

So am I blowing this out of proportion? Side note, jealousy much like wool itches and is uncomfortable without a camisole. Me no like it!




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