Geritol Moment
Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like the owner of your voodoo doll likeness is in an extra prickly mood? Well yesterday was that day for me. It started as I literally rolled out of bed & hit my knee caps on the night stand while trying unsuccessfully to press the snooze button. After biting back tears while balled in the fetal position cradling me knee – while BBQ King slept in peaceful oblivion to my pain – I finally made my way to the bathroom to start my morning routine.
The toothpaste tube was empty, the toilet seat was up and the damn hot water took to long to actually get hot. As I’ve told you all before, I am a firm believer in signs. I just don’t always adhere. The common sense in me should have jumped up & said “call out sick – stay home” but I guess it was still asleep. Hemingway! I hopped in the shower, reached for my Summers Eve femmie wash, only to find it empty (LAWD I hope the man ain’t using my wash), and disinfected (thoroughness is a must) my personal as best I could with the lil itty bitty piece of oatmeal & honey soap that was left. Why a man simply won’t open a new bar of soap is beyond me. I just hoped they would have the air up at work or else I was going to smell like Ms Betsys alley cat crack choker daughter by lunchtime.
Of course by the time I’m done with my personal hygiene, picking an outfit & dragging the child out of bed for school, I’m already 30 minutes in the hole with the man on work time. Oh well. YT knows we operate on CP time so he should be used to it. I figured I might as well stop for a cinnabun from Mickey D’s with a sweet tea since I’m already late. As I’m twissing (I may be xtra thick but that don’t mean I ain’t sexy) my way to the counter I notice these three older men checking me out. I give them my best ‘I’m so sexy you would give up 3 months of SSI checks just to get a whiff’, smile and bounce shake my booty to the counter to order. I won’t bore you with the details of me trying to order in Ebonics from someone who only speaks Latin Ville. You get the comical picture.
As I neared the table of the old breakfast club I realized from snippets of convo floating on the air that they were talking about me. My butt, my breast & my stomach!!! One of these geezers had the nerve to say my backside was nice but “all that stomach is too much” he didn’t want anything he had to “move out the way”. Now of course you know my first instinct was to cuss his black crispy Geritol guzzling ass out but the bible say respect your elders. Instead I walked over to the table, leaned over directly in his face so he could get a great view of my cleavage and sniff of my perfume, puckered my lips, blew him a kiss & whispered softly “If you promise to pull back the wrinkles on your man stick, I promise to keep my stomach out the way.”
Needless to say those old MFR’s was speechless as I walked away with a huge smile. Sometimes the best revenge is a sweetly laced cyanide capsule delivered with a dash of honey. Next time they old asses will learn to whisper or buy stronger hearing aid batteries before they talk about people.
The toothpaste tube was empty, the toilet seat was up and the damn hot water took to long to actually get hot. As I’ve told you all before, I am a firm believer in signs. I just don’t always adhere. The common sense in me should have jumped up & said “call out sick – stay home” but I guess it was still asleep. Hemingway! I hopped in the shower, reached for my Summers Eve femmie wash, only to find it empty (LAWD I hope the man ain’t using my wash), and disinfected (thoroughness is a must) my personal as best I could with the lil itty bitty piece of oatmeal & honey soap that was left. Why a man simply won’t open a new bar of soap is beyond me. I just hoped they would have the air up at work or else I was going to smell like Ms Betsys alley cat crack choker daughter by lunchtime.
Of course by the time I’m done with my personal hygiene, picking an outfit & dragging the child out of bed for school, I’m already 30 minutes in the hole with the man on work time. Oh well. YT knows we operate on CP time so he should be used to it. I figured I might as well stop for a cinnabun from Mickey D’s with a sweet tea since I’m already late. As I’m twissing (I may be xtra thick but that don’t mean I ain’t sexy) my way to the counter I notice these three older men checking me out. I give them my best ‘I’m so sexy you would give up 3 months of SSI checks just to get a whiff’, smile and bounce shake my booty to the counter to order. I won’t bore you with the details of me trying to order in Ebonics from someone who only speaks Latin Ville. You get the comical picture.
As I neared the table of the old breakfast club I realized from snippets of convo floating on the air that they were talking about me. My butt, my breast & my stomach!!! One of these geezers had the nerve to say my backside was nice but “all that stomach is too much” he didn’t want anything he had to “move out the way”. Now of course you know my first instinct was to cuss his black crispy Geritol guzzling ass out but the bible say respect your elders. Instead I walked over to the table, leaned over directly in his face so he could get a great view of my cleavage and sniff of my perfume, puckered my lips, blew him a kiss & whispered softly “If you promise to pull back the wrinkles on your man stick, I promise to keep my stomach out the way.”
Needless to say those old MFR’s was speechless as I walked away with a huge smile. Sometimes the best revenge is a sweetly laced cyanide capsule delivered with a dash of honey. Next time they old asses will learn to whisper or buy stronger hearing aid batteries before they talk about people.
posted by Ms G @ 5:20 AM
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