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Archive for September, 2011

Situational Moments of Awkwardness

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , on September 30, 2011 | 22 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011. Totsymae

Sitting in a meeting. The stomach gets to bubbling and you feel like you gotta shit. Looking around  the room, everyone looks as if they can sit there ’til Jesus rises again and it certainly feels like that’s how long you’ll be in the meeting.

When somebody cries in front of you and you don’t particularly know what the hell to do. More awkward if you really never cared for that person  in the first place.

When a proud parent shows you their uncute kids and pretty much has the family photo album in their purse or wallet for you to see, like all you’ve got to do is look at a bunch of photos of folks you don’t know whom you hope will grow into something like cute in the very near future.

When someone has married into the family and checking you out on the downlow, who may even throw some suggestive moves in your direction.

Dropping food on the floor and looking around to see if anyone’s looking ’cause you know you wanna eat it and probably would under the right circumstances.

Somebody who swears to be a great cook makes something especially for you and you just can’t bear the thought of putting it in your mouth after looking at it but they’re waiting for you to take that first bite.

Lord help, but the love of your life thinks he’s just whipped some good loving on you and want to talk about it when all the while, you just couldn’t wait for it to be over.

You see your parent(s) having sex and mealtime is a much happier occasion than you’ve known it before.

You’ve just finished picking your nose and heaven forbid, somebody’s watching you.

You pass gas in a public place and somebody comes right behind you and gives you a look as if you’ve been stank all of your life.

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From My Soles, I Speak

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , on September 29, 2011 | 25 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Yesterday was a rough one, folks but I have to say walking’s been a good thing for me healthwise. Though, here lies the problem I have with this daily ritual I’ve come by in being in Taiwan. I’m having a hell of a time keeping my feet clean. As embarrassed as I am to say  it, they’re not totally clean now. Remember me telling you about the pedi-egg I went overboard with? I was getting myself in gear for the walking. On Sunday, I even bought me some Chinese-type sandals for walking. Folks, I can’t begin to tell you how comfy they are. I mean, these shoes are really taking good care of me for the six bucks I spent on them but the grime of the streets is sticking to my feet.

I was moaning to somebody yesterday that I just want clean feet and to see pretty parts of this place. It’s, well, dirty here. Lots of pollution. I’m less bothered about the language barrier than the fact that I want clean feet. To top it off, not only will I not meet a fella to my liking as I see it, which is so not a priority anyway, but I don’t see that I’ll have clean feet here. And this humidity’s killing my hair!

I know. I know. So American. So spoiled. So this. So that. But it’s what I know. I can’t help where I’m from. I’m sorry. It was just a bad day. Breathe in. Breathe out. The good parts? I’m still breathing. I treated myself to more sweet walnuts that I like to eat with bananas. I had two consecutive nights of good sleep since a week and a half of being here. I’m no longer waking up hungry at 3 in the morning. All’s well at home.

Sonia tweeted me, saying something like, my heart being at home and enjoying the moment ’cause it may never come again. You know, only in hindsight would I ever think if I’d want to be in this moment. Hindsight is a sho’ nuff bitch, ain’t it?

Moving right along. What do I do this weekend? I write. As far as I know, no internet connection this weekend, which makes it doubly hard. I’m patient but two weekends without any connection…Siiiigh…

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Let’s Get Naked

Posted in Body Image, Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 27, 2011 | 24 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011. Totsymae

See, the problem’s always been that men folk don’t listen. The first and only example we need of that can be traced back to that garden in Eden. That is, if you believe in the events that took place back then. Personally, I don’t believe we were made to be walking around naked for the rest of our lives. I mean, God didn’t have to put the Tree of Knowledge in that garden, so that we’d know the difference between good and evil. I think He designed it so we can do just what we’re doing. On another personal note, some folk don’t look too good with their clothes on and it would be a sho’ nuff sight to see folk walking around here naked. I know you can feel me on that. Hell, some of you ain’t satisfied with your own bodies, let alone looking at somebody else’s naked ass.

I know, we wouldn’t know the difference between what’s a nice body shape and what wasn’t, if Eve hadn’t gotten Adam to take a bite of that fruit. Though, I find it kinda hard that nobody would wind up figuring out that some of us needed to wrap a sheet around us or something. I mean, can you imagine not knowing shit? Would you even want it that way?

Then, we ended up with the Bible, which different folk wrote and made it so that we should follow certain rules to live a righteous life. And bear with me ‘cause I don’t know much about nothing in relation to all there’s to know about anything but I find it creative to make it so that man pretty much becomes God, regardless of him not being able to follow directions in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna go with the flow of the Bible and all about man being head of the house (and don’t forget, president), but I’m just deliberating ‘cause if you’ve ever experienced this yourself, it’s kinda hard for a man to stop and ask for directions. Maybe that stems back to him not following God’s instructions in the first place. You ever been lost on the road and tell that man he should’ve turned left when he insisted on going right and you end up in a maze of more lostness?

Back when I was a real young married woman, my husband had this stereo system that was special to him but he decided to pawn it. Folks, it was a damn 8-track and I couldn’t recall when I’d last seen one but quicker than a magician can pull a rabbit from his hat, there it was. I pretty much told him, ain’t nobody gonna want that shit. Now, I’m in the car telling him not to take that thing in the shop, pregnant in hot ass Texas, mind you. He tells me to stay in the car ‘cause he couldn’t work a deal with me in there running my mouth. I sit in the car like a good wife while he lugs that thing in the shop. Two minutes later, he’s lugging it back out. I had to suffer three pawn shop stops of this before he finally got the message that he was trying to pawn off some shit nobody had use for.

I was thinking though, it may not be a bad idea to blindfold folks and sit them all in a room butt ass naked and see how they match up. You know, go back to basics and kinda get men folk to think a little more deeply ‘cause we all know, they could have the body of Santa Claus and want a damn Halle Berry. Like, how the hell they figure is what I ain’t figured out yet. I think that’s a right fine idea for marrying women off who want to be tied up but I’d opt to be a fly on the wall and maybe add a contemporary chapter in the Bible called The Book of Totsy.

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Escaped from America

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , on September 26, 2011 | 35 Comments »

Self-Portrait Copyright 2011 Totsymae

I have limited access to the internet, so you can say I’m in No Man’s Land. I hope everything is kicking by the end of the week. My clock and system is still off. I tell you what though, there are some things I can sho’ nuff appreciate about America. Like, going to a restaurant and knowing what the hell’s on the menu. I like these folks over here in the land I’m in but Totsy can’t get down with the unidentified foods. My whole body’s gonna be about the size of my leg by the time I get ‘way from over here.

The other thing about being in a foreign land is that I’m totally illiterate. No pun intended but I’m feeling right special ed. looking at pictures to know what I want to eat. I saw cockroaches walking on the sidewalk right along with me the other day. I mean, there were plenty of them and I feel right certain that if they had a mind to say, “Bitch, get out the way,” they would’ve. Have mercy on me for saying such a thing but that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

I can say these are the nicest folks I’ve ever come across in my life. No such thing as race over here, folks. That’s a beautiful thing. You have to be here to know what I mean, unless you’ve had such a glorious experience before. I don’t know. I’m hanging tough, folks.

Realizing I’ve been evasive on where I’m at and all, I’m just gonna tell you, I was kinda miserable last week. Call me Waterhead ’cause I was crying and didn’t think I’d be here past the weekend. Anyhow, I’m okay as okay can be under the circumstances. I don’t want to say what I’m doing over here ’cause you know, I got a potty mouth and that don’t mix with what I’m doing. I’m twelve hours ahead of you folks on the east coast.

Guess where I am, folks.

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Flash Fiction Fridays No. 8: Return of the Cougar

Posted in Flash Fiction Fridays, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2011 | 27 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae.

This bitch stalking me again.

Where U @? I ain’t playin witchu. B’leve that, punk!!! was one of thirty text messages blowing up my cell.

By the time I get to Reynoldstown Station from the Park n’ Ride, I see I’ve got five voicemails along with the texts. Damn! It don’t take but five minutes to get there. Talk about a bitch with some skills but she wanna use them all on me. Got me on this train sweating and my heart banging the hell outta my chest. I’m a man trying to get to work and my nerves working harder than I ever did on any job on account of this crazy ass I hooked up with from clickafreak.com.

Yeah, I know that should’ve been a sign but you know boys will be boys will be motherfucking boys and Wanda was making me wait ‘til the wedding night, like four weeks of no screwing was gonna make her virgin-like.

What the fuck, is all I think when my phone gets to vibrating in my pocket. Then, my head starts whipping around left to right and back again, at every train stop. You could say it served my ass right for internet whoring, when in fact, I already asked my girl to marry me.

Like, so what if I’m on three different sites. I’m a single man and trying to sow the last of my oats. Nothing’s wrong in putting it out there with protection. And hell, she admitted to being on a few herself. I didn’t think no more about it. Said she wanted to take shit slow anyway but now that I think about it, ain’t no woman who ever says that mean it. That’s just a way they pull you in. One day, we’re playing dominoes and joking around, then a week into it, she’s jumped her ass to my side of the table and shoving a titty down my throat. Me being partial to titties, where else could we take it from there?

I’m all in the moment, enjoying being inside her and this bitch winds up writing my name on the walls of her, ahem…

I get up the next morning and she’s got a toothbrush, with the toothpaste spread out all smooth and shit. Newspaper’s at the breakfast table. Kitchen’s smelling like bacon and coffee and even though it’s my plan to leave straight out, I can’t dip on her like that.

Okay. I sit down to eat and the shit’s actually as good as it looks. I’m trippin’ to myself ‘cause I ain’t used to no woman who cooks without me asking her what we’re gonna eat and her not moaning and bitching, talking about equal rights and shit.

“You have reached Little Five Points Station. Please, wait for the train to come to a complete stop before…”

“I sd, where U @ U sorry bastard. O, um waitn @ yo stop n we settlin this,” is the next message.

I get to looking every which way ‘cause my stop’s next. I got a meeting I can’t miss and now, I’m hung up with this psychotic bitch. I’ll be damn if I got time for this shit!

“You have reached Peachtree Center Station. Please, wait…”

I stand up and see I’ve got ten minutes to get in the office to pull my shit together. I try to hide in the crowd but everybody scatters in different directions. Then, she calls me.

“Tariq, I see your sorry ass.”

I cringe and when my boy, from the eleventh floor, looks back grinning from her to me, I make a dash for the stairs and damn if I don’t hear her firing up that motorcycle behind me. Who knew a cougar had this kind of get up and go about her? Got me running through morning rush hour with my briefcase under my arm, people splitting the sidewalk like the Red Sea when they see me making it toward them and goddamn, she’s so close now, I can feel her laughing through my back.

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The Tell-Tell Signs of Ageing

Posted in Body Image, tagged , , , , , , , on September 21, 2011 | 27 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

You talk about what you eat and how it settles in your digestive system. You may even go further by letting others know how they can keep their systems regulated with colon cleansers, what drug store they can get them from ’cause they’re the absolute best and so and so on, and you don’t give a damn who hears you dishing out this kinda advice.

You talk on the phone and shit at at the same time, then have the audacity to flush.

You talk about how gloriously free you feel after taking a shit.

You fart in public and keep it moving. You don’t let shit boil up in your stomach to the point that you’ve got so much gas you could be launched to the moon. Life is too damn short and anytime is the right time for letting out a little wind. You might even go,  “Ahhhh,” at the end and pretend you don’t hear someone calling you a nasty heifer or dirty ass bastard.

You pick your nose in public like you’re hoola hooping and don’t give a damn who’s watching. You’ll even stare back at the bastard who’s been staring at your nostril cleaning process with nonchalance or a what the fuck expression, if you’ve aged into being the bad as you’ve always been in your cuttin’ a fool days.

You get that plaids and florals ain’t a good match up but you wear them together anyway ’cause you just don’t give a damn about trying to impress anybody and your retirement check’s in the bank while kinfolk who are trying to tell you your shit don’t match are still pulling that 9 to 5.

You’re shopping in Forever 21 and trying to wear shit your daughter or granddaughter is wearing with your bony ass knees showing in a mini skirt and your titties look like dried up raisins under a tube top.

You go in a room to get something and suddenly can’t remember why the hell you’re there and have to go back to where you were to think about why you went there in the first place.

You’re way too tickled pink that somebody in their twenties thinks you look so young and you go off telling your older friends who thinks you look as old as they do.

You’ve got more beauty products than books in your house.

You’ re talking to somebody and they’re looking at your toupee more than paying attention to what’s coming outta your mouth.

You wanna kick the person’s ass who’s addressing you as mam when they look to be around your age.

You fall for every product that claims to maintain your youthful appearance and will max out your credit cards to do so.

You’re sitting around the house playing music your kids don’t wanna hear and they beg you to please stop dancing.

You feel like you’ve got more answers than questions ’cause you’ve seen and heard it all before and nobody can tell you shit.

You’re holding a prized outfit or two from high school, not only because it brings back the joys of youth but you actually think your ass is gonna lose the pounds to get in them again.

You’re out shopping with your parents and nobody can distinguish if you’re the parent of child of the parent.

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The Turkey That Stole Thanksgiving

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2011 | 21 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

I saw whole chickens hanging from the side of a garbage can yesterday, getting ready to primed up for a good meal. All the life gone and they just lay there, limp with their eyes wide open. I remember the thing that made me finally go vegetarian was a dream that snuck right up on me in my sleep and pretty much snatched the turkey bone outta my hand. Yes, it did. Now, it’s kinda rare that I even remember my dreams. Sometimes, it’ll take some days but this turkey dream was so very, very deeply disturbing to me, I couldn’t shake it.

Folks, in the dream, it’s around Thanksgiving. There was a big, fine spread on the table of every kinda dish typical for, I suppose, an American Thanksgiving. You know, we can find so many ways to get together and eat, even if it’s not about the actual holiday. Well, in this dream folks, it’s just me and that spread but mainly me and that turkey. Why don’t we just name it into a movie, called How the Gobble Stole Totsy’s Grub On.

There we are, at that little table. My primary focus was that damn turkey ’cause that’s, of course, when I would have at a piece of meat faster than you could say, ‘May I take your order.’ I don’t know why it was so quiet in that house in the dream. Seemed like there would’ve been a gang of folk in there at that table but uh uh, it was just me. There that turkey was, all laid out and glistening all pretty like turkeys do and I pick up my carving knife and go to poking for my first slice. Folks, that damn turkey got to grunting and twisting around like folk do when their sleep is being disturbed. That thing tossed and turned ’til it got all comfyed up and I wasn’t picking and settled back into a good sleep.

Now, you know I ain’t believing my eyes. I mean, this is some shit if I ever seen it. Unlike those chickens I saw on the road yesterday, of course, this bird I was aiming to put in my stomach didn’t have a head. I mean, it’s a legitimately baked up turkey and hell, it’s ready to be eaten. I  make one more effort to cut that thing and it goes to tossing and turning again. I woke up after that ’cause for me, this is akin to a nightmare, being that I didn’t eat nothing but fowl and fish. I wanted that damn turkey on my plate. Nevertheless folks, I gave up on it ’cause every time thereafter, I’d think of that grunting turkey tossing and turning in that roaster. I couldn’t enjoy a good bird meal of any kind on account of that dream but I’m a soft core vegetarian. I still think that shit looks and smells good when it’s cooked up right. It’s almost like being on a diet but I’m stronger with this than any diet I’ve ever been on.

But look folks, it was so nice of y’all to drop by. I was thinking about dropping my accent and all but you know, it’s kinda the only familiar thing I have on me now. You can take the girl outta the south but you can’t, well, you know the rest.

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M.I.A.

Posted in Body Image, tagged , , , , , , on September 19, 2011 | 22 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

I wanted to see what all the fuss was on the TSA folks, so I took a little trip. Well, that ain’t all the reason for the trip ’cause there was no Denzel-like figure to frisk me up. Matter of fact, nothing frisky went on at all and I’m a tad disappointed, folks. All that research didn’t cough up nothing more than me walking a cold floor in my bare feet. Oh, my Mary Kay samples for exfoliating were taken. Folks can want the darnest thing from you, can’t they?

Now this ain’t got nothing to do with nothing but I just had to let you know that I washed my face with some of that Caress soap and it’s got my face feeling so good. And maybe it does have to do with something ’cause to sit on your bottom for sixteen straight hours of being suspended in the air is enough to make me appreciate the joy of soap and water. I never took it so seriously before but I’m feeling real smooth and refreshed. You really don’t have to go out and buy all that fancy and priced up stuff to keep yourself younger, folks. Just go out and buy yourself some Caress soap. I can now say that some companies acutally live up to their commercials.

My concern is my backside. You know, sitting on it for so long and the future consequences of that ain’t good for women folk especially. Always nice to have a little padding back yonder. Sitting on it all those straight hours like I did is like using a flat iron to your hair. I used to be right proud of what was going on back there but I’m about to hold court with that bitch now. Like, just sit the ass in the witness chair and have at it: Where the hell you take off to on the night Totsy went to the comedy show? Ass, where were you when she tried on that dress she thought she was gonna look so fine in and had to put it back on the rack? So, you mean to tell me you just stopped showing up on your own cognizance?

I’ve seen some men folk with asses that make me do a double-take. Oh, I get to hatin’ on them too. What gets me though is big assed men don’t quite get when to stop pulling their pants up. Why the belt line gotta be damn near under their arm pits? What’s up with that? And if you think it’s a pitiful sight to see them from the back, you must’ve missed the front. Ooooh folks, I’m just gonna spare you the details and let you use your imagination on that! Lord. Help. Me!

Sorry, I veered off again and lost my train of thought. Let me catch my bearings here and once I’ve kinda settled in and wrapped my head around this here town, we can keep company like we been doing. I ain’t quite all of myself now being here, so I’ve got some figuring to do. (Hmmm…why those folk on that TV talking so funny?)

 

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Living Under the Influence

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 16, 2011 | 25 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Did I ever tell you about the preacher man who was eyeballing me? (siiiigh) If it ain’t one thing, it’s another, ain’t it? I hate that saying ’cause you should be able to turn your head left or right without shit coming your way. I mean, if things weren’t bad enough already. Folks upstate are flooded out, folks in Atlanta’s breaking in these beauty stores, stealing hair weave and selling it and you know Newt Gingrich says he cheated on his previous wives for the country and all. I tell ya, I love these new ways we show patriotism. I wanna show mine by taking that paddle that used to beat my ass in school and whip his for a statement like that. Remember folks, if he cheated on a wife who was sick with cancer, don’t be surprised at what he’ll do to folks he ain’t never said he loved. I ain’t saying that’s you or nothing. I’m just sayin’, you know, with the church and politics being kinda loosely tied together and all.

Now, I don’t know too much about politics or the church but I’ve somewhat mingled among political folk down here in the south. When I was younger, my mom wanted my sister and me to be busy for the summer, so she had us volunteer for Hosea Williams, who was running for congress at the time. He marched  side by side with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., so it was something for us to be that close to walking history. He was a right friendly and grandfatherly figure for us that summer and every time you shook hands with him, your hands smelled like lemons. Outside of my own mom and those sassy sisters of hers, I’d never known anybody to be so brutally frank. And he used it with such diplomacy. I mean, we’d sit around in the morning meetings and folks were right glad to be insulted by him ’cause it kinda meant you were special to him.

There was this one preacher man down there, downtown Atlanta that is, who wore his hair slicked back. Oooohhh folks, be leery of a man who goes the length of pomading his hair back ’cause he’s probably slicker than two dice tossed on a buffed up floor. That’s another no-no for man material I was warned about coming up, along with one that wore lotsa jewelry. Now, what can a woman do with a man like that, I ain’t figured it out yet. But I’m gonna tell you, this preacher man spotted me and tried to throw a move on me, y’all. Yeah, he was around my step-daddy’s age but you think that stopped him?

See, we were cleaning the little kitchen in the back of the office and I suspect since I’ve always been kinda one to stare at folks to take all of them in, he took it that I was interested. I don’t know. I can’t remember my eyes lingering on him too long with that hairstyle and all. Plus, there were so many other interesting folk to stare at. Well, it’s just him and me in that little kitchen and he’s kinda managing the cleaning, I guess.  Me being the only one back there besides him, I guess I needed some supervision to sweep the floor since even back then, I wasn’t into being domestic. Well, this slickster hands me the broom and says, “You know you want me,” and had his hand shaking my head from side to side with his hand on my chin. Folks, as young as I was, I’d never thought along those lines about no preacher and least not him. I mean, I held them with such high reverence, with my granddaddy being a preacher and all. Imagine my shock and total confusion.

Ended up that I told another campaigner and he set that ole preacher man so straight, he apologized and started acting righteous by me. I was old enough to know this wasn’t right and not fall under the influence of what somebody supposedly represented but that ain’t the case for a lot of kids, nor is it an option for kids who are too young to process and ariculate that kinda confusion. I tell you though, it’s both strange and interesting, the guise folk hide behind to get into devilishment. I mean, what I’ve said here is just a snippet of what happens to undo the good that can be done. Look at John Edwards. Makes me sad to think of his wife leaving this earth in the kinda pain she must’ve been in, with cancer and her husband making that baby outside the marriage. What a mess to mend up with those children. I ain’t judging though. Just thinking, is all it amounts to really.  It makes me ponder two questions I’ve been asking myself for quite some time. Are we holding these folk in too high esteem or should we chalk it off to just being human? I mean, that is what we are when the water boils outta the pot.

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It Don’t Pay to be Ugly

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 15, 2011 | 29 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

I haven’t had the most exciting life but I’ve got some interesting snapshots that lend their way to  fairly okay tales worth sharing every now and then. I’m gearing up for a little excursion and it makes me think back on a couple of interesting incidents when I was living over the waters. One, I probably got myself into and the other, I thought I got lucky but well, let me go on to share this before I catch a long wind and take up more time than I deserve from you.

Any of you ever drive the autobahn? It so happens I had the pleasure. I was determined to have some level of independence and studied up for my license test and passed it the first time. 150 questions was on that thing and I hate any kinda test. Actually, not long after arriving in Europe, West Germany that is, I learned the magic of hitch-hiking. I only did it once though. I just asked this fella outside of my building if he knew where such and such was and when he told me he did, I asked him to take me there. I was so tired of being stuck in that apartment and looking at those gray skies that I had to get outta there. I wouldn’t do that again, the way the world is now.

Getting my license was an avenue to a bit of the freedom to move about the way I had in the states. Ooh folks, I loved that autobahn, even after this one time of a car shooting past me and ramming right into another vehicle. He was going over 100 ’cause I was at about 90 myself. He barely missed me before banging into that other car. Just a road demon, he was, and sent that car spinning all kinda ways. But there was one time too, where I was merging onto the autobahn and underestimated the speed of this other speed demon in the far right lane. Ooh folks, he was going way too fast for that lane and there I was shifting my way in in that little Festiva that was not much faster than that thing Fred Flintstone drives.

That was one pissed off speed demon, me pretty much puckering along and him in his Mercedes. Speed Demon pulled alongside me and signaled for me to pull over. Now, you know I wasn’t fluent in no Deutsch, and I didn’t know how much English he spoke of course, so I put the pedal to the metal, folks. He was raging mad and nothing but no good woud come of me stopping. That nut followed me but having the shit scared outta you can make you powerful, you know. It probably  came from watching those cop shows too, and I lost that son of a gun. I was nervous, relieved when I made it home but also, right proud. You see, TV ain’t a bad thing in the way it helped me out there.

My second run-in was on my way back to the states. I usually flew coach, where folks could smell each other and everybody wore flip flops. Well, just my good fortune to be bumped up to business class. The woman asked me if I minded and naturally, I didn’t. For the first time, I was the shit  on a plane and felt big timey when I saw all that space up there. The sheer joy of it was interrupted by my seatmate, however. I don’t know where he was from ’cause he did more grumbling than anything, on account of me sitting next to him. He was probably around seventy and a right cantankerous fella, he was. Justa grumbling and complaining in his language and waving me with his hand to move, so he could get to the overhead to put away his shit. Well, he had plenty space to move about but I moved around a bit to make him feel better. Now, I’m sitting in the aisle seat, mind you. Folks, soon as he reaches up for the overhead, his pants falls down right in front of me, yes they did. I think to myself, “Well, how about that shit, mean ass,” but I didn’t laugh or say a word. Matter of fact, I acted like I didn’t see a thing but he knew I did. How about he sat his ass down and got to talking right nice to me in fairly good broken English after that.

Being ugly ain’t never served no good purpose. I’m sure you know that but I have to tell you, I was satisfied something happened ’cause this ole fella was ambitious in stealing a bit of my joy.  Whether he knew it was my first time not flying coach or not, it didn’t matter none. Long as he was satisfied. Hmph…

Ever escaped a run-in by the skin of your teeth or seen Karma work that quickly on your behalf?

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A Super Hero in the White House

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 13, 2011 | 21 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

I can’t keep up with posting on other bloggers’ blogs lately. I’m sorry, I’m scattered and a pure slush  these days and my chosen beverage is Kool-Ade. I have to tell you though, I won’t be any better next week. Time will be upside down, as I’m transitioning and life is about to be very different for me. At this particular moment, I’m trying to stop myself from being pissed off at living in a small town, where on the menu, any and every day, is women folk talking outta turn but I don’t wanna go into that ’cause I don’t wanna give energy to venting. I mean, I know I do here sometimes but only when I feel that I could have good-natured  humor about it. So, let’s turn this to a more worthwhile topic and talk about the Tea Party Debate last night. Did you tune in?

I’m gonna tell you folks, I was impressed by that Michele Bachmann. She hit it dead on with that HPV ’cause it was how I felt when I heard it was a mandated vaccine a few years back. I hope you know that black folk and state-mandated injections don’t mix well and you’d have to read up on the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment to fully understand the nature of my apprehension. I think there are a lot of great discoveries in medicine but you have to also understand that it’s a field of trial and error and that can be no more clearly defined in the fact that medicine is called a practice.

Well, I liked what Bachmann had to say on that ’cause no man really understands a woman’s body more fully than a woman herself. The most recent beau that I no longer see, once told me, “I’m gonna teach you how to be a woman.” I let him know with the full force of my tongue that he couldn’t teach me shit about being no woman. Then, I started to wonder if he had some bitch in him and some men folk do. You know, they menstruate in their own little way. I mean, I can come close to being the ideal woman if a man’s acting like the ideal man in my head. You feel me?

(Ahem. Sorry for that sister-having-a-flashback moment). Anyhow, I think Mitt Romney was impressed by Bachmann too. Then, I noticed how he was giving all the candidates who were responding that same I’m-the-King-Shit-Here look. Almost condescending, if you ask me. Like, he knew the game better than everybody ’cause this was his second go ’round and made him the biggest fish in the ocean. I kept imagining him with a big ass ‘S’ on his chest, with a cape blowing in the wind and wearing a Superman suit. Did ole dude look like Superman to you? Hair all slicked back for the wind and shit. Plus, he was taller than everybody. Oh, I was paying attention to what they were saying. Don’t get me wrong but I was trippin’ on Romney too. My sister brought up that nobody she could remember who’d ever run a second time was ever elected. Is that right, folks? I can’t recall anybody right now either.

Would’ve been fitting to stick a painting of Romney on this post in super hero fashion or at least slicking his hair back like Elvis did when he was rockin’ and rollin’. I can’t quite picture him dancing to Elvis though. Hmmm…

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The Hook-Up

Posted in I'm Every Woman, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2011 | 28 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Folks, it’s a little hard for me to stand on my feet and walk. I’m gonna tell you though, I’m watching my dollars. So good I’m watching my dollars, I damn near filed my feet off on Saturday. I have this idea that I can do just about anything. I really do. My kids, Little Totsy and Mr. Boy, believe I can do just about anything too.

One day, we were walking in the mall and Mr. Boy came across an outdoor bench that could be put in the yard. He told me I should get it for the house, then he got to studying it and said, “You could build that,” which I could. We’d see shit in the store and I’d go, “But I can make that,” and it’s become a family joke ’cause as much as I feel like I can do, I’m pretty much gonna stick to what I know I will do. I’m not boasting. I’m just cheap, is all, which is why I’m in this predicament with my feet.

On Saturday, I go to get some things at the As Seen on TV store. You ever been there? I bought a steamer for my clothes and that pedicure egg. I can’t remember the proper name for it but that’s the shape of this thing my sister turned me onto for a self-hook up of my feet. I guess it would be like exfoliating and you know women, it ain’t hardly right to have all that dead skin caked up on your heels. I worked with this one woman and her feet looked so bad, it was almost unsanitary with all that shit caked up on them, which reminds me on my step-dad’s feet. Oh folks, if you stepped on a toe nail he’s cut off his foot, it was like something clawing at you. He had one helluva file and toe nail clipper. Like some shit built for the animal kingdom. I wouldn’t lie to you, folks.

Well, I was all happy to get this pedicure egg, with the cold weather approaching and all. I went to work on my feet soon as I got settled back at home. On Sunday, I was okay. No big deal but come today, my feet are tender as hell.  I look back at my heels and they’re all reddish-pink and shit. I be damn if I ain’t been tipping around here for two days ’cause I’ve just about filed off the back of my feet. And I’ve become such a baby over time, that I have a low tolerance for pain. I hate feeling all delicate. I mean, it doesn’t quite match up with my tough talk. Of all things, I’m sensitive to a little over-exfoliation. But I have to say, this ain’t hardly as bad as the time I thought I had meningitis.

Folks, I was painting the carport ceiling of the house I used to live in. Naturally, I’m looking upward for long periods of time. Next day, I can barely get out of bed, or turn my head. I rush to the doctor to hear my ultimate fate, that I’ve got X amount of days to live and remember, ooohhhh, it was the painting that got me feeling this way. Talk about a wasted co-pay. It really bothers me to act typically womanish, being dramatic and all. Where’s the fun in being average? How are you sizing up out there, ’cause it ain’t sitting too well with me.

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