Or maybe it's my curse. But I have recently had an epiphany about a very special ability I have. A latent mutant power if you will. The ability to make women go from zero to bitch in under 3 seconds. If I am not mistaken that's better than Ferrari, Lamborghini & Porsche. This is, of course, without so much as even making the attempt to do so, through absolutely no forethought of my own. To quote Richard B Riddick, "how interesting."
I know I promised to talk about crazy LA women, but bear with me. There is an LA chick in this story.
EXHIBIT A
Recently, Brooklyn recommended a book to me. Now, keep in mind, this was several days ago. And when she told me about it I told her that I was adding it to my Amazon wishlist. This, I assumed, would give the impression that it would be ordered at some later date. Or so I thought. Flash forward to today and I awake to find a missed call from her. I call her back and her first question to me is if I bought the book yet. Um, no. And at this point she is not very happy because I had almost a week to buy this brilliant piece of work. The rest of the conversation didn't last long. It ended with her smacking her lips on what ever she was eating and telling me she would call me back when she was done. Now she and I are old friends so I know her tones and inflections. And, more importantly, I know how she is with me. She was not happy. We have since worked out this disagreement. And yes I have purchased the book (for about $8 and some change). Which should go a long way to maintaining harmony in our relationship.
EXHIBIT B
This needs needs some back story. Several months ago my accountant tried to hook me up with this chick he knows. An older asian chick that likes black men and lives in Gardena. As I live in the Valley this has not be conducive to the actual hooking up part. For my folks familiar with the ATL that's like me living in Alpharetta and her living in College Park. Between that and the fact that she isn't particularly interested in guys younger than her (she is 40 and I am 33) our exploits have been confined to the occasional phone conversation and an e-mail every once and a while.
We were supposed to meet up for lunch or dinner or something this afternoon. We talked about this last week. As she would be on vacation from her 2nd job and Monday is my off day we agreed this would be as good a time as any. My job was to pick a place for us to meet. Initially it was to be between the Valley and her place but as time went on it went from that to where ever I wanted to meet at. Even Burbank. Cool. All I had to do was e-mail her the place and she would get directions and go. So, I chose a spot in Burbank and e-mailed her the info. Only to have her e-mail me back her concerns about taking the 5. She wanted me to call her last night after her favorite show (Desperate Housewives, yeah, like you didn't see that coming) so we could talk about it. I forgot. Sue me. My boy VCD came over and having not seen him for weeks we had some brews, kicked it and watched the Venture Bros (one of the funniest shows on TV by the way if you ever get a chance to catch it on Adult Swim). By the time I realized, it was too late to call so I pretty much fucked around and decided something was better than nothing. At around 2am I e-mailed her just that. Told her it was too late to call and that anywhere we went in the afternoon there would probably be traffic. I mean come on people this is LA. And she did tell me she would meet me anywhere.
And so we come to this morning. In addition to Brooklyn's missed call I have an e-mail from this chick as well. Stating that she isn't sure she wants to go know since I didn't call. Ok, at this point I assume she is pissed. And then I see that she called me at some point this morning too. I'm not sure when as I have purged my call data on my phone (I do this from time to time). But suffice it to say the extent of her message was "call me." Of course, I hesitate as I know where this is going. The convo started off well enough and throughout I was calm and rational. But she was pissed because I hadn't call. Period. She didn't care about the reason. She didn't care that she could have called me to remind me. She didn't care that I might not have gotten the e-mail until it was to late. Nothing. I didn't call. She should not have had to call and remind me (or just called after her show was over, I don't fuckin' watch it so how should I know when it's done). Natrually, me being me, I expressed to her that this was drama. And her response was to question whether I could handle it. That, of course, is not the point. It's whether I want to or not. And I said as much. From there I wanted to know what she wanted to do and her response to me was that she didn't think she wanted to go because I had an attitude. Um, yeah. If I didn't before, I do know. Keep in mind I pointed out to her that she was the one that was mad at me. I wasn't mad her and not only that I didn't have an attitude about the situation. So naturally we didn't go. Though she did thank me for calling her back. Now this is a 40 year old woman people. And she had the nerve to ask me again at the being of the conversation how old I was (I say again because she has asked me this before). As if I was somehow being immature (at least in retrospect that is how I took it, it was a very out of the blue question that came from and went nowhere). I wasn't mad. I wasn't even upset. I didn't come at her crazy. I just explained myself and she didn't care. And I'm the one with the attitude? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me?
And that ladies and gentlemen is the amazing talent God has seen fit to bless me with. Pissing off woman. I know this to be true because I don't have any conflict with my male friends. If only I could get paid off this shit. All it's doing for me know is leaving me dateless. But you know what? As long as I'm drama free, I don't even care...
Monday, September 25, 2006
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Speaking of LA... again
I've been meaning to tell y'all about this, but y'all know how I get...
So after my roadtrip I decide that I need to take some clothes to the cleaners. Since I had been living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks it seemed only right. Considering the number of button up shirts I brought that hadn't seen an iron in a while, not to mention my suit, I figured I'd shell out the loot and just get it done. So the day after I arrived I got up early, ok not really, but I did leave early. Though for me that was about 11am. Rarely, do I ever get to that place before 2pm (that place being my favorite cleaners). Especially on a Sunday. But I got up and got it done. No big deal.
Now to the point of the story. On my way home I take the scenic route. Getting off the freeway several miles from my home in order to take the main drag of my communal suburb of LA proper (which for the record still counts as the City of Los Angeles, one giant suburban town I tells ya). If you live in the NoHo area I'll give you one guess as to the name of the street. Here's a guess. It starts with an 'L'. So I'm cruisin' enjoying this bright summer morning in So Cal until I notice one of the more unusual sites I have ever seen in California. On the opposite side of the street is a guy of possibly Mexican decent. He was tan, shirtless, relatively buff, with what appears to be either a weight belt or back brace around his waist. He is riding a mountain bike with no hands, as they are in front of him, one holding the other as though he were giving a speech. He had on a fresh pair of stone khaki's, crisp white gym shoes (maybe K-swiss) with dark black sunglasses and a baseball cap that, if memory serves, matched his pants pulled down on his head. Yeah, the bill He appeared to be staring straight ahead as he rode. Keep in mind I notice this guy several seconds before we passed each other. Mostly because I was wondering why he didn't have a shirt on (it wasn't that hot that day) and then it looked like he was wearing khaki's. And that weird ass weight belt. He could have been in a Gap ad, or more accurately Abercrombie & Fitch. So I noted this interesting site as I drove and would have paid it no mind if not for what happened next. As we were about to pass each other, me in my car, he on the other side of the street on his bike, he appeared to turn his head in my direction and threw up a gang sign. Arms arced on either side of him with has hands contorted into some shape I couldn't describe then and certainly won't try now. How interesting. He didn't appear to have any noticeable tattoos and I can't be certain he was looking at me. But he wasn't menacing about it. It was almost like he was saying "wassup" to a homie. Whether that was me or someone else... who knows. But that definitely was some surreal shit. Had this happened in anywhere else I might have been surprised. But I live in LA. Homeless people have conversations with trash cans outside my office downtown. And besides, I'm from Detroit...
In other uneventfulness in LA a couple weeks ago I an older black man in Bentley gave me the ice grill as I was leaving the Burger King down the street from work. It was a Saturday night and I was picking up some eats for when I got home. I looped around the parking lot and noted how slick this ride was as I was passing it. It had the look of a car that you wanted to be careful around. As I passed the passenger I noticed it was a brotha. Possibly in his mid to late 50's. A big guy. Could have been a former football player or something. But he was definitely pimpin' the whip as though he was in his 20's. Left hand on the wheel leaning to the side with his right hand holding a cell to his ear. And he had a really nice suit on. Now that I think about it in the night light it almost matched the silvery color of the car. Of course I got the cold leery stare as I passed by. Almost like he was saying, "Wassup, nigga." And not in a good way. Since I have been told I look like that naturally I took no offense and paid it no mind. Actually I was just happy to see a brotha pushing a ride like that. More power too him. It almost gave me hope that I could have one one day. Not sure why exactly. I don't know that guy from Adam.
Next time, on A Life More Ordinary: Crazy LA women & the men that try to avoid them... namely me.
So after my roadtrip I decide that I need to take some clothes to the cleaners. Since I had been living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks it seemed only right. Considering the number of button up shirts I brought that hadn't seen an iron in a while, not to mention my suit, I figured I'd shell out the loot and just get it done. So the day after I arrived I got up early, ok not really, but I did leave early. Though for me that was about 11am. Rarely, do I ever get to that place before 2pm (that place being my favorite cleaners). Especially on a Sunday. But I got up and got it done. No big deal.
Now to the point of the story. On my way home I take the scenic route. Getting off the freeway several miles from my home in order to take the main drag of my communal suburb of LA proper (which for the record still counts as the City of Los Angeles, one giant suburban town I tells ya). If you live in the NoHo area I'll give you one guess as to the name of the street. Here's a guess. It starts with an 'L'. So I'm cruisin' enjoying this bright summer morning in So Cal until I notice one of the more unusual sites I have ever seen in California. On the opposite side of the street is a guy of possibly Mexican decent. He was tan, shirtless, relatively buff, with what appears to be either a weight belt or back brace around his waist. He is riding a mountain bike with no hands, as they are in front of him, one holding the other as though he were giving a speech. He had on a fresh pair of stone khaki's, crisp white gym shoes (maybe K-swiss) with dark black sunglasses and a baseball cap that, if memory serves, matched his pants pulled down on his head. Yeah, the bill He appeared to be staring straight ahead as he rode. Keep in mind I notice this guy several seconds before we passed each other. Mostly because I was wondering why he didn't have a shirt on (it wasn't that hot that day) and then it looked like he was wearing khaki's. And that weird ass weight belt. He could have been in a Gap ad, or more accurately Abercrombie & Fitch. So I noted this interesting site as I drove and would have paid it no mind if not for what happened next. As we were about to pass each other, me in my car, he on the other side of the street on his bike, he appeared to turn his head in my direction and threw up a gang sign. Arms arced on either side of him with has hands contorted into some shape I couldn't describe then and certainly won't try now. How interesting. He didn't appear to have any noticeable tattoos and I can't be certain he was looking at me. But he wasn't menacing about it. It was almost like he was saying "wassup" to a homie. Whether that was me or someone else... who knows. But that definitely was some surreal shit. Had this happened in anywhere else I might have been surprised. But I live in LA. Homeless people have conversations with trash cans outside my office downtown. And besides, I'm from Detroit...
In other uneventfulness in LA a couple weeks ago I an older black man in Bentley gave me the ice grill as I was leaving the Burger King down the street from work. It was a Saturday night and I was picking up some eats for when I got home. I looped around the parking lot and noted how slick this ride was as I was passing it. It had the look of a car that you wanted to be careful around. As I passed the passenger I noticed it was a brotha. Possibly in his mid to late 50's. A big guy. Could have been a former football player or something. But he was definitely pimpin' the whip as though he was in his 20's. Left hand on the wheel leaning to the side with his right hand holding a cell to his ear. And he had a really nice suit on. Now that I think about it in the night light it almost matched the silvery color of the car. Of course I got the cold leery stare as I passed by. Almost like he was saying, "Wassup, nigga." And not in a good way. Since I have been told I look like that naturally I took no offense and paid it no mind. Actually I was just happy to see a brotha pushing a ride like that. More power too him. It almost gave me hope that I could have one one day. Not sure why exactly. I don't know that guy from Adam.
Next time, on A Life More Ordinary: Crazy LA women & the men that try to avoid them... namely me.
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