Monday, July 28, 2008

the crazycow and pokey show

date: friday, july 25, 2008
time: @9:30 a.m.
place: crazycow's office

crazycow was seated across from me, her desk separating us. i had just settled myself into a highly uncomfortable chair and crossed my legs, notepad resting on my thigh, pencil poised above the lined paper. i take a deep breath, open my mouth to begin the discussion about the upcoming events for next week, when out of the blue she blurts out

"nikki, are you depressed?"

mouth agape, i'm looking at her, just a bit pissed off i was interrupted before i can get a word out.

now there are a couple of questions running through my mind. 1. what the fuck does this have to do with our current discussion? and 2. see number one. i stare at her with a slightly bewildered frown before speaking.

"um, no?"

"well, i had to ask because you don't smile as much as you did when you first began working here."

i literally had to hold down the sarcastic smirk trying to get a grip on my lips. did she really just say that to me?

now there are a couple of questions/thoughts running through my mind. 1. is smiling profusely part of my job duties? and 2. when i first took this gig, i didn't realize i'd be working for pyscho-bitch, a disappointing development guaranteed to wipe the smile off of gotham's joker.

i'm holding the pencil in my hand a bit more tightly, fishing for a way to respond to her statement.

"um, i didn't realize i was smiling less," i began carefully, "but no doubt if i AM smiling less it's probably because i'm deep in thought about the things i'm responsible for around here."

now she's looking at me intently...actually, it was kinda intense. i felt like i was being thoroughly dissected from loc'd head to crimson-tipped toes.

see, this is what i hate about working at a school of medicine...folk are constantly on the search for things to find wrong with mofos.

last week i made the mistake of telling one of the professors my stomach was acting up a bit. before i could even continue with my statement, she's deluging me with questions trying to determine what could be upsetting my stomach.

"how long has your stomach been feeling like this?" asked the professor (from here on known as pokey) as she transitioned seamlessly from colleague to attending physician.

"uh..." i answered, taken aback by the sudden change. i squirmed in my chair.

"lean back," pokey commanded as she reached over and began digging her knuckles into my abdomen.


"is it a queasy feeling or a cramping feeling?"


"does this hurt?" she asked after each invasive poke. i felt like the intimidated third-grader being harassed by a much larger bully, only i couldn't retaliate by slamming her in the head with my rusted scooby-doo lunch box. instead i was forced to sit back and take the abuse.

if by 'this' you mean the way you're bitch-slapping my cervix, then yeah, it hurts

"no," i gasp outloud as i felt what surely had to be her hands rearranging my liver.

"just a second or two more," pokey responded, preoccupied with the task of sticking holes through me with her suddenly talon-like fingers, "i want to make sure i'm not missing anything."

i'll be missing some internal organs if you keep this up

"no problem," i winced as i respond hoarsely, my mind retrieving the chapter in the employee handbook regarding inappropriate touching. unfortunately, there's nothing in there addressing the non-sexual physical examination of a fellow co-worker for medicinal purposes.

i really must talk to someone about that...

"have you been vomiting any?" she asks as she pulls her hands of death up offa me. i could feel all my bruised and violated internal organs curl up into fetal positions to await questioning by the police and the administering of a rape kit.

"no," i begin, "i mean, when i say my stomach is acting up a bit, i mean it's just..."

"do you think you might be pregnant?" she interrupts me.


please tell me there's something in the employee handbook stating explicitly how inappropriate THAT question is...

"not unless it's divine conception," i responded slightly aghast.

"who is your regular physician?" she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly, "do i know him/her?"

"i haven't chosen a doctor yet."

"have you eaten anything out of the ordinary lately?"

does cum count?

i laughed internally at that little joke. i haven't had a dick in my mouth since...actually, it's too far back for me even to remember.

"no," i sighed dejectedly.

she stood there a moment, brow furrowed, her eyes focused sharply on the ceiling as she mentally went through the symptoms to come up with a possible diagnosis.

"it doesn't sound like anything serious," pokey said slowly after a moment, "but just to be safe, i'd recommend you schedule an appointment with your physician."

it was then i realized i really should have been quicker on the draw. when i initially told her my stomach was feeling a bit off, i was gonna add "but no doubt it's just gas cuz i had milk earlier today."

however, i just didn't have the heart to tell her i was slightly lactose intolerant after all that work on her part. hell, she felt as if she'd just saved a life. let her have her moment.


back to friday and my boss and her diagnosis of depression...

"are you sure you're not depressed?" crazycow asked.

"should i be?"

"i just want to make sure i'm not missing anything," she said with compassion, "i know you're going through a pretty overwhelming time right now."

let's see...i've been recently poked thoroughly by someone without benefit of an orgasm before having my sanity questioned by a certifiably insane person...there is absolutely NOTHING right with this picture...

"nah," i replied with an inward sigh, "everything's cool..." wonder folk are always talking about what's wrong with them. i mean, in the place where folk are TAUGHT to be doctors, folk are so busy focusing on what's wrong with people they lose sight of what's right, ergo, the answer they come up with is to continue medication/office visits to address the symptoms (what's WRONG) instead of finding out what keeps folk healthy (what they're doing RIGHT) and coming up with solutions to END disease. i could have sworn doctors were supposed to be empowering healers and not 'perpetuators of dependence upon pharmacuticals and purveyors of the helpless mindset of seeking short-sighted solutions by addressing only the symptoms.'

then again, i'm probably just feeling the residual effects of having my internal organs shifted around. i AM kind of tired of shitting out of my nose...

Thursday, July 17, 2008

da beggin bastids...

it's 5:45 in the morning and i'm sitting at the red light pissed off cuz i'm sitting at a red light at 5:45 in the friggin morning. now to be fair, it's my own damn fault. i made myself get up so i could get to the gym cuz i knew i wouldn't be able to go later (dental appointment) and i've been dedicated to maintaining my schedule...but that's another story.

anyway, so it's 5:45 a.m. and i'm slouching in my seat, tiredly rubbing the sleep from my eyes as i await the turning of the light from red to green. the sun is still an hour away from rising so outside the car it's armpit dark. i'm always extra aware of my surroundings when it's that early in the morning. it's not like killers take off between the hours of 2 a.m. and 7 a.m. ya know? meanwhile, as i'm sitting there, i notice a shadow moving towards the driver side window of the car in front of me. my heart skips a beat as i immediately straightened my spine and strain my eyes to get a better look.

" that...GET the fuck outta here!"

i rub my eyes and look again.

then the aberration turns and heads towards me. as my headlights slowly reveal the form floating to my window, i gasp, then quickly hit the button to close my window.

"dude, it's 5:45 in the fucking morning," i yelled, my words splattered upon the window in a muffled mess, "what the fuck you doing walking up on me like that? you could get cut the fuck up for some shit like that!"

a mothafuggin beggar? at 5:45 a.m.? what, is this a full-time gig for this cat? does he clock in? who VOLUNTARILY gets up at that time of morning? does he thinks he's gonna get funds from me on some ole "looky, he's up early...that's a hard worker for ya..." bullshit?

and what is he doing stepping up to my window when it's night outside? that's not just a no-no, that's a HELL no-no. that usually has car-jacking written all over it. i mean come on...don't he know better? first it's dark AND it's early as shit? the sun hasn't risen, hell, the birds ain't even chirping yet. they're still snuggled in their nests chillin and i'm at a red light being bothered by a homeless dude wanting money?

inopportune moment + irate audience = cuss out/grievous injury/murder.

he better be glad i wasn't packing anything more serious than a black.berry. he would have taken one to the gut fa sho.

this situation was reminiscent of another one...

it was like 3 a.m. and i was in bed with kufdub, tucked closely against his body as we floated in the afterglow of a long bout of carnal activity. my cousin had been calling nonstop for two hours...the first hour was to my mobile phone until i turned that shit off. then he was blowing up the home spot. i actually began to get a bit worried and my fear had me finally reaching for the phone.

"dante! is something wrong?" i questioned breathlessly as my heart beating double-time, "who died?!?"

"damn nikki," dante responded petulantly, "it's about time you answered your phone!"

i began hyperventilating a bit as kufdub grabbed my hand and squeezed lightly.

"DID.SOMEONE.DIE?!?" i screamed into the silence.

then a pause.

"naw girl," dante answered sheepishly, "nobody died. whatever gave you that idea?"

i pulled the receiver away from my face and stared at it with a mixture of fury and incredulity. i could feel kufdub's silent chuckle reverberate through his body.

"he needs money," kufdub mouthed against my neck. i rolled my eyes hard before placing the receiver back to my ear.

"dante," i growled, the anger squeezing each syllable, "please do not tell me you've been blowing up my phones cuz you need some money."

then a pause.

" that you mention it..."

"dude, really. get out of here with that shit."


inopportune moment + irate audience = cuss out/grievous injury/murder.

he better be glad i wasn't close enough to kick him in the nuts, cuz i would have...twice. once for interruping my gawtdamn afterglow and once for getting me all worked up and scurred.

now there are some common features between both of these beggin bastids:

1. they're both black men. i refuse to believe being a black man has anything to do with this, but i gotta wonder...

3. they were both dumb enough to ask me for money after scaring me, then pissing me off. i think this has more to do with...

2. they're both broke.

being broke evidently makes many folk behave stupidly, which does nothing to assist them in their occupations as beggin bastids. therefore, my contribution to the betterment of mankind is as follows... i've come up with a list of dos/don'ts guaranteed not only maximize return on begging efforts, but to alleviate the aggravation many of us feel as a result of being assaulted by folk asking for our hard-earned funds.

i am hopeful this list will equip beggars with the tools/knowledge necessary for them to succeed at the endeavor of requesting funds (or at the very least, prevent fools from stepping to my car before dawn's crack is exposed.)

look for that in the next entry, whenever that is (see, i've learned my lesson. i ain't promising that shit tomorrow).

Monday, July 14, 2008

characters are welcome...

it's been a hot minute since i've put my meandering musings to blog. in that time, there have been a number of tremendous changes in my life, all positive. because i don't want folk to get lost, here are a list of players in my current saga:

da fam
mom - beautiful and loving woman who gave birth to me...currently operates as a functioning alcoholic. she'll be the one offering truly insightful pieces of advice in between her moments of insobriety (and a few during).

dad - the man who stepped in to be my dad after my od (original daddy) died...currently on the outs with me because he doesn't know how to discuss politics without getting his scrotum in a twist.

teef - lil bro, younger than me by 13 months but thinks he's older than me by 13 years. likes to drop wisdom bombs but doesn't always smell them for himself.

da friends
ole girl - best friend and confidant. currently single and looking, which means plenty of stories, most of which are funny with a few heartbreaking ones in between.

crack - he cracks jokes, cracks heads, and fucks crackheads.

whoa - big-willy man-ho fucking around on wifey. as a female i check his ass for what he's doing. as his friend, i love him unconditionally.

low? - attractive male friend we all think is taking it up the ass in the dark, cuz he hasn't had a steady relationship with a sane female since the first network run of fam.ily guy.

da co-workers
lessaclue - she thinks pregnant single females are bad role models yet wonders why the computer tech guy with the single pregnant sister won't have lunch with her. 'nuff said

cassidy - butch lesbian who's married with a kid and is the genuine article when it comes to being progressive, but gets insulted when she's mistaken for a man. (i'm thinking it's the combination of minimized tits, buzz cut, and dockers clothing, but i could be wrong).

hipdoc - 40-ish jewish emergency med doctor with an earring in one ear, chingy on his ipod, one ob-gyn wifey and two roving eyes for the ladies.

da stable
peii - he's sexy, he's funny, he's smart, he's "something new" (and yeah, that means exactly what you think it means).

d'ex - the guy i left six months ago after being with him on/off for ten years. fluctuates between bewildered and embittered but is ultimately a good dude.

ease-z - the charismatic childhood crush who flirts with me in the hopes of getting in between the legs in between declarations of undying love for his girlfriend.

da rest
le tigre - big tabby cat i'm watching for two months. i'm thinking he was sired by tony the tiger, cuz the cat is fucking huge.

assassin - other smaller cat i'm watching for two months. never knows he's around until he's damn near up on me.

crazycow - 60ish chick living next door to me. just met her yesterday and she's already telling me we share a wall and she hears voices at night coming from my loft. i can forsee all kinds of drama ensuing here.

blade - gay black dude on the other side of me. i haven't met him yet, but i'm putting him on the character list because i've heard he's rich and has a bunch of cute boyfriends, which means i'm gonna be pissed as shit when i see all those fine eligible men in his spot who only have a taste for salty balls.

no doubt you'll get to know more about these folk as the months go on, as i've got plenty of stories to tell...

Thursday, July 10, 2008

it's the fucking principle...

for the last week i've been trying to set up utilities in my new spot. initially it was with a ho-hum attitude. i mean, how hard could it possibly be to have gas, water, electric, internet, phone, and satellite/cable hooked up?

evidently this shit is harder than it was to free mandela, cuz i've had nothing but problems since i began this endeavor.

first off, is it just me, or is at&t quietly re-establishing itself as a monopoly again? someone please explain to me how the fuck at&t can buy bellsouth when it was forced to relinquish "bellsouth formerly known as at&t's southern regional office" twenty-five years ago because the government determined it was a monopoly?

so if a pimp is forced to give up his hoes cuz pimpin is against the law and the hoes change their job titles to "independent pussy contractors" and do their biz for a few years before the pimps buy them back, is the pimping no longer considered illegal? according to the government's logic, it shouldn't be. i'm gonna use the same logic when i buy back the weed the police confiscated from my back yard during the drug raid last week.

mind you, it wasn't a big deal with me until i was attempting to set up my local phone, internet, and satellite tv service. when that at&t/bellsouth deal initially went down a few years ago, i was slightly perturbed, but not truly disturbed. no, it wasn't until i was adding up the cost for my services that i took offense with at&t and their "hiding in plain sight" monopolizing tactics.

initially everything appeared to be aiight. i'm at at&t's website, and i'm starting to get excited cuz i see they've got the "bundle deal"...i can order the phone, internet, and tv service for one tidy lil sum. as a chick who hates having to pay bills, this was perfect for me.

first step is to choose the services i want...

local service - i choose the basic deal at 17.95 cuz all i want is local. i don't need all that bullshit stuff like caller id, call-waiting, *69 (okay really...what the fuck is caller id for then?), call-forwarding (i have a mobile phone...why in da hell would i EVER use this?!?) hell, the only reason i have local service is for the fax machine.

long distance - who needs that when i've got a mobile phone that gives it to me for free? i click "no"

internet - the fast but not the fastest shit at 37.95 cuz i want the streaming video. my flatscreen is attached to both the cpu and tv service, so i'm gonna check out online movies from netflix.

tv services - the ONLY reason i'm going with the 49.99 package is cuz it comes with the nfl network.

i get giddy cuz now i'm actually making some headway into getting prepared for the move next week. i click on the "purchase" button...

and these bastids tell me i have to purchase long distance.

what? hol up...why da hell would i need long distance if i have a cell phone that gives it to me for FUCKING FREE?!? that'd be like me buying dick when i have a boyfriend at home (meanwhile men everywhere are buying pussy in the streets with wifey at the crib, but i digress...)

i click on the long distance option just to see how audacious at&t is gonna be...i actually had to blink a few times, cuz i was sure i was seeing things.

they have a long distance plan alright...a TWO DOLLARS A MONTH AND TEN CENTS A MINUTE long distance plan.

what the fuck? oh, i get it...the two dollars is payment for the dry stick they plan to shove up my ass...and the ten cents a minute is for the actual shoving of said dry stick up my it.


okay, i'm not getting at&t. i'm just not. it's the fucking principle of the damn thing.

only now, because of the damn near fucking monopoly they've got over atlanta local phone services, i can't find enough competitors with comparable rates. ironic...slavery ended over a century ago and yet i'm now enslaved to the price-fixing tactics of at&t. fugga dat. this runaway slave here is bouta escape over de hills into comcast territory...