It has come to my attention that many of you are anxiously awaiting Part II of Happy Valentine's Day. I apologize. At first, it seemed to me that I should have just ended the entire story in Part I. But then I remember that night..... It wasn't anything disgustingly romantic or special, you see, but romantic and special enough to me that it served as my initial inspiration to even write Part I. This one's short and sweet, guys. And it goes a little something like this.....What in the blue fuck makes people think it's okay for them to pick their noses while they're driving in their cars? I mean, seriously - all jokes aside, is there a written manual out there that says that this type of behavior is acceptable? I guess it would be called, Things You Thought Were Not Okay To Do, it would be written by some desperate idiot tryin to make a quick buck and in it it would say, Rule #137: "It is perfectly okay to pick your nose while driving in your car." Everyday I get in my car to drive to work and then back home from work and it never EVER fails. I'll look to my left or to my right and, sure enough, I'll see some dumb fucker goin to town in his nostrils. It's disgusting...
Today's culprit is some middle-aged white guy driving a rather expensive car. At the moment, he does not have either one of his hands on the steering wheel because apparently everybody and their damn mama is using Coral Way to get home from work and, clearly, no matter how much money the County pours into upgrading South Florida's roads, the roads will never be "upgraded" enough to handle everybody and their damn mama. Anyway, his left hand is cradling his cell phone to his ear and with the pointer finger on his right hand, ladies and gentlemen, he is attacking his poor left nostril mercilessly! He's got about half his finger rammed up that poor little nostril (yall know white people got small noses) and he's swirling it about as if his finger were a straw and his nostril a cup of coffee. Then his finger bends at the knucle and we all know what comes next. Yep! He slides the tip of his fingernail out slowly, in a scraping motion, carefully... And then you know what comes after that. Yep! He holds his finger up to his face real close, as if this is the first time he is seeing it. I don't even want to think of what he's looking at. Whatever it is, he rubs it to and fro between his pointer finger and his thumb before flicking it off.
Oh geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed! Damn, man! Get a fuckin room!
Mr. Boogerman all of a sudden turns to his right to see me staring at him in utter disgust. (I'm kinda bad at hiding my facial expressions and it was too late for me to turn away.) But instead of him turning away in shame, he gives me this, "What the fuck are you looking at?!" look and then mashes on the gas pedal, leaving me behind to make sense of what I had just witnessed.
I am furious. Absolutely furious. How dare he. First to subject me to that fucking shit and then looking at me as if I had invaded his privacy... as if he were not sitting in a car with windows as clear as glass in the middle of rush hour traffic (in a county that happens to be bigger than a lot of US cities alone!) with everybody and their mama around to see! I mean, excuse me, Mr. Boogerman. Excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me! You stupid -
My purse is vibrating. It's sitting in the passenger's chair just vibrating away. I giggle while I stick my hand in through the zipper. When I can feel my phone in it, I pull it out and look at the name that appears on the little window.
"Hey, Pumpkin!"
"Hey, Pumpkin! What are you doing?"
"Driving home from work." All of a sudden I remember Mr. Boogerman and I am, once again, filled with anger.
"Did you get my message earlier today?"
All of a sudden I remember the message and and I am filled with giggles and blushes and all that mushy shit.
"Yes! And, yes, I'd love to be your Valentine! I mean, you don't have a penis, but it's fine. You'll just have to do."
Sania laughs and deep down inside, I am genuinely happy that she has asked. I mean, I don't particularly care for this Valentine's Day shit, but the fact that she asked me means a lot to me - even if she's only asking because 1. she does not have a boyfriend and 2. she knows there's more of a chance of Shamoo, the Killer Whale, jumping up out of his tank while doing the Lean Wid It than me ever getting a man. I don't mind though. I think it's sweet.
"Okay, then. You wanna go to dinner?"
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaamn! Dinner, too?!..... Are you gonna try to seduce me afterwards?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Shut up. Where do you..... Nevermind. Lemme guess - Jasmine Thai?"
"Well if you insist..." Hehe.
"I'll see you at 7." (She had to work the desk at nine.)
So when I finally got home, I took a shower and threw on some jeans and a shirt and called it a day. No make-up, no perfume, no hair combing.....I will not succumb to this ridiculous holiday. I am just going out for sushi with a good friend on a regular Wednesday night. Right? Wrong.
I'm sitting outside of Jasmine Thai waiting for Sania and everything I'm seeing around me is pretty much irritating the hell out of me. Who the hell puts on a dress and heels (and a pound of make-up) to go out to eat on a Wednesday night? I mean really! Who the hell walks into a restaurant with red, heart-shaped balloons and a stupid little teddy bear? I mean really! And who in the hell plays tonsil hockey with their significant other right in the middle of a Publix parking lot? I mean reeeeeeeally!
A couple walks by me and they've got their arms wrapped around the other one's waist. I stare at them for a very long time but they don't seem to notice. They're too busy kissing and grinning at each other. I wonder who loves the other more? Probably the girl. It's always the girl. You girls are so fucking stupid.
Several more losers walk past me, all of them too much in love to notice the little Haitian girl with her somewhat tamed Afro and $10 jelly shoes. I call Sania to find out what's taking her so long because 1. I'M STARVING!!! and 2. the restaurant is getting pretty packed. She says that she will be there soon and after I hang up with her, I realize that Nookie, by Jamesy P., has stopped playing on my Ipod probably a very long time ago.
Right before I begin to question my very existence (I've been doing that a lot, lately), I notice an elderly couple getting out of their brand new white Beamer - the BMW X3 with dark blue exterior and ivory interior. Damn! Who do I have to sleep with to get me one of those babies!
The man pushes the little button on the little car alarm thingy (can you tell how old my car is?) and shoves his hands in his pockets. He walks off, leaving the lady standing outside of the passenger's door, tugging at her clothes and running her hands through her gray hair. The man is pretty quick for an old guy; he's already half way to the restaurant before he turns around to look for his wife. When he sees her standing there fixing herself up, he sucks his teeth and hollers, "Hurry up! I'm hungry!" She ignores him at first and then waves her hand at him as if to tell him to shut his fucking shit up. Then, she throws her bag - the one that probably costs more than what I pay for one month's rent - over her shoulder and starts making her way towards her husband - or the restaurant.....I'm not sure. She is pretty quick, too, but her husband - who is glaring at her and mumbling underneath his breath - cannot wait and he continues along his path once again.
When he finally reaches the door to the restaurant, he turns to look for his wife a second time. This time, he waits until she is standing toe to toe with him and then he takes her by the hand and leads her to the large, dressed up piece of cement slab that I am sitting on. He sits down, slowly, beside me and pats his right thigh twice and his wife, who is standing in front of him after having watched him take a seat, carefully places her left foot on his thigh. It seems as if a trillion eternities pass while the old man ties the old woman's shoe. He forms the two bunny ears, loops them around each other, tucks one underneath and pulls it through in a tight knot. Then he taps the part of the shoe where her toes are and she places her foot back on the ground. Their silence is deafening as he stands up, slowly, takes her hand and leads her into the dimly lit restaurant a few feet away.
I am not at all embarrassed that I have stared at them the whole entire time...the whole entire time. I close my mouth and realize that I have paused my Ipod at some point or another while watching the old couple. I want to turn it back on but I don't; I feel as if though the faintest sound - even a needle falling on cotton - would ruin the magic in the moment I have just witnessed. And later on in the evening, while I am sitting across the booth from Sania, pissed as hell because it is taking almost an hour for us to get our rolls, I am still so very intrigued by the old man and the old woman, sneaking glances at them from afar and wondering what they are saying to each other with their eyes.
Why do I always eat as if I'm about to start fasting for the rest of my life? I mean really, it's gotta stop. I'm SO disgusting. I sigh, pat my lil belly and pull the comforter up to my armpits. And to make things worse, my fat ass is layin up here in bed when I know damn well that I should be runnin at least twenty miles or so..... Steups.....I'll start the gym next Monday..... I should really invest in a treadmill of my own..... Steups....Wait a fuckin minute! That dude hasn't called me for the whole day yet! I can't believe this! How dare he not call me on fuckin Valentine's Day!!! Nah, that ain't cool. I'm not havin that.....I reach for my phone on the nightstand next to my bed and proceed to make a very important call. He picks up on the second ring.
"Happy Valentine's Day, my love!"
"Don't Happy Valentine's Day me. What happen to you? You can't call anyone anymore? You've always called me on Valentine's Day. Now, no, right. Now I don't get a Happy Valentine's Day call anymore?" I'm not playing.
"No."
Oh hell no! "Excuse me?"
"I said, no. No Happy Valentine's Day call for you cuz you og-ly! I only call pretty girls on Valentine's Day. Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
Steups. "Shut up, Old Man. I'm being serious, you know."
"What? I say maybe you were too busy with your boyfriend today..... Where's your boyfriend? What he get you?" Shit! Every fuckin year the same fuckin shit.....
"I don't have one."
"Oh no?! Hmmmm..... how come?"
"I dunno."
"I know. I know what happen. Your boyfriend realize how much food you eat and so he dump you before he had to take you out for Valentine's Day dinner. Hahahahahahahaha!"
"You know, you always talkin some kinda shit, Old Man. Always!" I don't even try to hide my giggles. "I can't believe Mammy, Tina and Bela let you walk around the house talkin as much shit as you do. You don't ever get tired?"
"Nope..... What are you doing? Did you have a nice Valentine's Day?"
I tell him that I had dinner earlier with Sania and that that was it. Then we chit chat a little more about the usual stuff. He tells me that he needs me to proofread a contract for one of his clients; I tell him that he needs to get hip to emailing me instead. He insists that if I come home this weekend, that he'll take me out for pasta; I insist that we go for sushi instead. He informs me of the latest news/situation/incident in the Virgille residence; I give him my opinion on whatever that news/situation/incident is. He asks me if I've put oil and water in my car; I lie and tell him that I have because I know he will do it himself next time I happen to be home. (It doesn't scare me anymore when he comes storming into the house with empty gallons of water and motor oil, screaming at me that I'm destorying my car and that I better not call him the next time my engine explodes on the Turnpike. He's so full of shit! Who else would I call? Steups.)
"Okay, Fatso, lemme go. I'll call you later."
"Like you called me today?" I can't help it, I'm still a little bitter. It hurts, you know?
"I called you, Fatso."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes I did. I called you and Bela said that you didn't answer your phone. Both of us called you earlier today on her phone."
Aw shit!..... I noticed a missed call from my little sister earlier today but I was doing something in the office and decided that I would call her back later on. But between the traffic, Mr. Booger man, Sania's call and then sushi, I had forgotten to do so.
"Oh."
"Ha! You see!" I can hear his smile over the phone.
"Shut up, Old Man!" Anger and bitterness gone.
"Okay, lemme go."
"Alrite. Bye."
"Bye. Love you."
"Love you, too, Dad."
A few hours later when I have woken up to find my lamp still on, Vybz Kartel still singing to me from my computer, and Debra screaming at Ray for some stupid shit or the other on my TV (she's so mean to him!), I roll over onto my other side, close my eyes and wait for sleep to seduce me once again. Right before Mr. Sleep arrives, the old couple from earlier that evening pops into my head and I am replaying the whole entire scene over in my head - the glare on his face when he realized she had not yet began to make her way to the restaurant, the macho, firmness with which he took her hand after tying her shoe, the way he caressed her hand while he sipped his coffee after they had finished their dinner..... And right as Mr. Sleep arrives (yet again) and my breathing deepens, I think to myself, maybe - just maybe - I will dream of someone who will tie my shoe, too.
Today's culprit is some middle-aged white guy driving a rather expensive car. At the moment, he does not have either one of his hands on the steering wheel because apparently everybody and their damn mama is using Coral Way to get home from work and, clearly, no matter how much money the County pours into upgrading South Florida's roads, the roads will never be "upgraded" enough to handle everybody and their damn mama. Anyway, his left hand is cradling his cell phone to his ear and with the pointer finger on his right hand, ladies and gentlemen, he is attacking his poor left nostril mercilessly! He's got about half his finger rammed up that poor little nostril (yall know white people got small noses) and he's swirling it about as if his finger were a straw and his nostril a cup of coffee. Then his finger bends at the knucle and we all know what comes next. Yep! He slides the tip of his fingernail out slowly, in a scraping motion, carefully... And then you know what comes after that. Yep! He holds his finger up to his face real close, as if this is the first time he is seeing it. I don't even want to think of what he's looking at. Whatever it is, he rubs it to and fro between his pointer finger and his thumb before flicking it off.
Oh geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed! Damn, man! Get a fuckin room!
Mr. Boogerman all of a sudden turns to his right to see me staring at him in utter disgust. (I'm kinda bad at hiding my facial expressions and it was too late for me to turn away.) But instead of him turning away in shame, he gives me this, "What the fuck are you looking at?!" look and then mashes on the gas pedal, leaving me behind to make sense of what I had just witnessed.
I am furious. Absolutely furious. How dare he. First to subject me to that fucking shit and then looking at me as if I had invaded his privacy... as if he were not sitting in a car with windows as clear as glass in the middle of rush hour traffic (in a county that happens to be bigger than a lot of US cities alone!) with everybody and their mama around to see! I mean, excuse me, Mr. Boogerman. Excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me! You stupid -
My purse is vibrating. It's sitting in the passenger's chair just vibrating away. I giggle while I stick my hand in through the zipper. When I can feel my phone in it, I pull it out and look at the name that appears on the little window.
"Hey, Pumpkin!"
"Hey, Pumpkin! What are you doing?"
"Driving home from work." All of a sudden I remember Mr. Boogerman and I am, once again, filled with anger.
"Did you get my message earlier today?"
All of a sudden I remember the message and and I am filled with giggles and blushes and all that mushy shit.
"Yes! And, yes, I'd love to be your Valentine! I mean, you don't have a penis, but it's fine. You'll just have to do."
Sania laughs and deep down inside, I am genuinely happy that she has asked. I mean, I don't particularly care for this Valentine's Day shit, but the fact that she asked me means a lot to me - even if she's only asking because 1. she does not have a boyfriend and 2. she knows there's more of a chance of Shamoo, the Killer Whale, jumping up out of his tank while doing the Lean Wid It than me ever getting a man. I don't mind though. I think it's sweet.
"Okay, then. You wanna go to dinner?"
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaamn! Dinner, too?!..... Are you gonna try to seduce me afterwards?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Shut up. Where do you..... Nevermind. Lemme guess - Jasmine Thai?"
"Well if you insist..." Hehe.
"I'll see you at 7." (She had to work the desk at nine.)
So when I finally got home, I took a shower and threw on some jeans and a shirt and called it a day. No make-up, no perfume, no hair combing.....I will not succumb to this ridiculous holiday. I am just going out for sushi with a good friend on a regular Wednesday night. Right? Wrong.
I'm sitting outside of Jasmine Thai waiting for Sania and everything I'm seeing around me is pretty much irritating the hell out of me. Who the hell puts on a dress and heels (and a pound of make-up) to go out to eat on a Wednesday night? I mean really! Who the hell walks into a restaurant with red, heart-shaped balloons and a stupid little teddy bear? I mean really! And who in the hell plays tonsil hockey with their significant other right in the middle of a Publix parking lot? I mean reeeeeeeally!
A couple walks by me and they've got their arms wrapped around the other one's waist. I stare at them for a very long time but they don't seem to notice. They're too busy kissing and grinning at each other. I wonder who loves the other more? Probably the girl. It's always the girl. You girls are so fucking stupid.
Several more losers walk past me, all of them too much in love to notice the little Haitian girl with her somewhat tamed Afro and $10 jelly shoes. I call Sania to find out what's taking her so long because 1. I'M STARVING!!! and 2. the restaurant is getting pretty packed. She says that she will be there soon and after I hang up with her, I realize that Nookie, by Jamesy P., has stopped playing on my Ipod probably a very long time ago.
Right before I begin to question my very existence (I've been doing that a lot, lately), I notice an elderly couple getting out of their brand new white Beamer - the BMW X3 with dark blue exterior and ivory interior. Damn! Who do I have to sleep with to get me one of those babies!
The man pushes the little button on the little car alarm thingy (can you tell how old my car is?) and shoves his hands in his pockets. He walks off, leaving the lady standing outside of the passenger's door, tugging at her clothes and running her hands through her gray hair. The man is pretty quick for an old guy; he's already half way to the restaurant before he turns around to look for his wife. When he sees her standing there fixing herself up, he sucks his teeth and hollers, "Hurry up! I'm hungry!" She ignores him at first and then waves her hand at him as if to tell him to shut his fucking shit up. Then, she throws her bag - the one that probably costs more than what I pay for one month's rent - over her shoulder and starts making her way towards her husband - or the restaurant.....I'm not sure. She is pretty quick, too, but her husband - who is glaring at her and mumbling underneath his breath - cannot wait and he continues along his path once again.
When he finally reaches the door to the restaurant, he turns to look for his wife a second time. This time, he waits until she is standing toe to toe with him and then he takes her by the hand and leads her to the large, dressed up piece of cement slab that I am sitting on. He sits down, slowly, beside me and pats his right thigh twice and his wife, who is standing in front of him after having watched him take a seat, carefully places her left foot on his thigh. It seems as if a trillion eternities pass while the old man ties the old woman's shoe. He forms the two bunny ears, loops them around each other, tucks one underneath and pulls it through in a tight knot. Then he taps the part of the shoe where her toes are and she places her foot back on the ground. Their silence is deafening as he stands up, slowly, takes her hand and leads her into the dimly lit restaurant a few feet away.
I am not at all embarrassed that I have stared at them the whole entire time...the whole entire time. I close my mouth and realize that I have paused my Ipod at some point or another while watching the old couple. I want to turn it back on but I don't; I feel as if though the faintest sound - even a needle falling on cotton - would ruin the magic in the moment I have just witnessed. And later on in the evening, while I am sitting across the booth from Sania, pissed as hell because it is taking almost an hour for us to get our rolls, I am still so very intrigued by the old man and the old woman, sneaking glances at them from afar and wondering what they are saying to each other with their eyes.
Why do I always eat as if I'm about to start fasting for the rest of my life? I mean really, it's gotta stop. I'm SO disgusting. I sigh, pat my lil belly and pull the comforter up to my armpits. And to make things worse, my fat ass is layin up here in bed when I know damn well that I should be runnin at least twenty miles or so..... Steups.....I'll start the gym next Monday..... I should really invest in a treadmill of my own..... Steups....Wait a fuckin minute! That dude hasn't called me for the whole day yet! I can't believe this! How dare he not call me on fuckin Valentine's Day!!! Nah, that ain't cool. I'm not havin that.....I reach for my phone on the nightstand next to my bed and proceed to make a very important call. He picks up on the second ring.
"Happy Valentine's Day, my love!"
"Don't Happy Valentine's Day me. What happen to you? You can't call anyone anymore? You've always called me on Valentine's Day. Now, no, right. Now I don't get a Happy Valentine's Day call anymore?" I'm not playing.
"No."
Oh hell no! "Excuse me?"
"I said, no. No Happy Valentine's Day call for you cuz you og-ly! I only call pretty girls on Valentine's Day. Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
Steups. "Shut up, Old Man. I'm being serious, you know."
"What? I say maybe you were too busy with your boyfriend today..... Where's your boyfriend? What he get you?" Shit! Every fuckin year the same fuckin shit.....
"I don't have one."
"Oh no?! Hmmmm..... how come?"
"I dunno."
"I know. I know what happen. Your boyfriend realize how much food you eat and so he dump you before he had to take you out for Valentine's Day dinner. Hahahahahahahaha!"
"You know, you always talkin some kinda shit, Old Man. Always!" I don't even try to hide my giggles. "I can't believe Mammy, Tina and Bela let you walk around the house talkin as much shit as you do. You don't ever get tired?"
"Nope..... What are you doing? Did you have a nice Valentine's Day?"
I tell him that I had dinner earlier with Sania and that that was it. Then we chit chat a little more about the usual stuff. He tells me that he needs me to proofread a contract for one of his clients; I tell him that he needs to get hip to emailing me instead. He insists that if I come home this weekend, that he'll take me out for pasta; I insist that we go for sushi instead. He informs me of the latest news/situation/incident in the Virgille residence; I give him my opinion on whatever that news/situation/incident is. He asks me if I've put oil and water in my car; I lie and tell him that I have because I know he will do it himself next time I happen to be home. (It doesn't scare me anymore when he comes storming into the house with empty gallons of water and motor oil, screaming at me that I'm destorying my car and that I better not call him the next time my engine explodes on the Turnpike. He's so full of shit! Who else would I call? Steups.)
"Okay, Fatso, lemme go. I'll call you later."
"Like you called me today?" I can't help it, I'm still a little bitter. It hurts, you know?
"I called you, Fatso."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes I did. I called you and Bela said that you didn't answer your phone. Both of us called you earlier today on her phone."
Aw shit!..... I noticed a missed call from my little sister earlier today but I was doing something in the office and decided that I would call her back later on. But between the traffic, Mr. Booger man, Sania's call and then sushi, I had forgotten to do so.
"Oh."
"Ha! You see!" I can hear his smile over the phone.
"Shut up, Old Man!" Anger and bitterness gone.
"Okay, lemme go."
"Alrite. Bye."
"Bye. Love you."
"Love you, too, Dad."
A few hours later when I have woken up to find my lamp still on, Vybz Kartel still singing to me from my computer, and Debra screaming at Ray for some stupid shit or the other on my TV (she's so mean to him!), I roll over onto my other side, close my eyes and wait for sleep to seduce me once again. Right before Mr. Sleep arrives, the old couple from earlier that evening pops into my head and I am replaying the whole entire scene over in my head - the glare on his face when he realized she had not yet began to make her way to the restaurant, the macho, firmness with which he took her hand after tying her shoe, the way he caressed her hand while he sipped his coffee after they had finished their dinner..... And right as Mr. Sleep arrives (yet again) and my breathing deepens, I think to myself, maybe - just maybe - I will dream of someone who will tie my shoe, too.
ah.... I'm so glad you're blogging. You are comic relief
ReplyDelete