I Wish That I Could Make This Stuff Up

I so wish that I had the imagination to create the bizarre scenes I witness on public transportation.

Earlier this evening, a mid-to-late 50's white gentleman with graying shoulder length hair and neatly cropped beard sat next to a 50-ish blind fellow. The long haired guy wore an old camel colored fedora, and a large yellow scarf worn fashionably by women of the same age group. As he sat with his legs crossed at the knee he fumbled with a Trader Joes bag, and eventually retrieved a large plastic container of dates. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a six inch switch blade. The blade glimmered a less than professional sharping. Dude stabbed dates one by one until he had his fill (roughy a dozen later). Everyone within view of him bore the same "WTF?" expression. Finished, he used his tongue as a napkin, and then politely interlocked his fingers over his knee.

*Oops, I almost forget the best part... He offered the blind man some of the dates. The man declined. Perverse me wanted him to say "yes," just so I could mark "Watching a blind man being fed dates with a switch blade" off of my bucket list.

Sleep-Les in Syracuse

*Times are approximate

9:45pm: I fell asleep.
12:23am: I awoke full of energy as if it were Friday morning.
12:24am-12:39am: I stared at ceiling.
12:49am-1:17am: I expertly refolded ever sweater that I own.
1:18am-1:43am: I got back into bed and stared at the NE corner of the ceiling.
1:44am-1:45am: I peed.
1:45am-1:48am: I stared at the jumble of scarves on the chair.
1:49am-2:11am: I expertly refolded ever scarf I own
2:11am-2:20am: I sat on the side of my bed admiring my sweater and scarf handiwork.
2:21am-2-29am: I coughed uncontrollably and made a cup of Ginger and Lemon tea. I sucked on a cough drop, but never drank the tea.
2:30am-3:00am: I thought about how much I hate beets, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts.
Approx. 3:01am: I fell asleep again.
7:45am: I woke up for a 7:30am call.

The whole day I have had this same expression, partly because it is so cold, and majorly because it is my default.

I Get To Be Me

I woke up at 3:30a.m.. I have said before that this happens because the universe wants to have a discussion with me.

My late father used to tell me to quietly question Why a person offers negative information to you, about you. "So-n-so said this or that..." He believed that the person sharing had their own agenda.

Yesterday, I had three interactions that were unnecessarily negative/ugly. I won't take up more space in my brain by recounting and dissecting them here. I woke up with those situations on my mind. I hate that because it means they "got me." Anyway, my thoughts quickly led to an incident from a couple months ago... An acquaintance offered that "People don't like [me]." He added that I "appear too happy, and try to project too damn positive in my dress, speech, mannerisms." The person further added that people have their own lives and troubles, and get sick of seeing a guy "whistling along without a care in the world." For the record: I do not know how to whistle.

I smiled as I was told this in a tone that might have been confused with caring (Presently, I ignore this person, and he looks genuinely perplexed. He doesn't get it, which I won't make my responsibility). "I'm just letting you know what's up," he added as if I would give this matter my immediate attention and correction. I continued to smile as I am oft when caught in a situation so bizarre that I don't know what else to do.

No, I will not defend not giving up or trying to be positive. He and others like him get to be them, and I get to be me.

BTW, like everyone I have a full plate, and a lot of it is poop, I'm just still searching for condiments. 😂

And your week?

A friend asked earlier how my week went? It was pretty uneventful, but great nevertheless. I am again grateful. Here are a few snippets:

Friday 2:
Doctor: I believe that your minor aches and pains is just age. As we get older...

Med. Student: But, doctor, he doesn't look anywhere near his age.

Doctor: But, he is ___.

Med. Student: But, doctor, he's in relatively great health, and looks amazing. Why mention...

Doctor: (Stares at Med Student probably wondering why he hasn't shut the F up?)

ME: I like Med. Student a Lot!

Friday:
The doctor's appointment...

Middle-age Random Woman: (Fanning herself furiously with a magazine) Damn, it's hot in here. Are you hot?

Me: I've been told.

RW: (Scowls and continues to fan)

*I was actually going to say "Sorry, I don't have that." 😜

Thursday:
Sneezing and sniffling all day-
I opted to will it away rather than DayQuil it away. Not all of my choices are winners. 🌠

Wednesday:
Sign in clothing store dressing room: "MUST WEAR UNDERGARMENTS WHEN TRYING ON CLOTHING."

Other than the obvious, does the store realize that as a card carrying germaphobe it doesn't take much for me to run?

Tuesday 2:
I swear, when I die I will spend purgatory on hold with an Indian customer service operator who after a lengthy wait only offers suggestions that I tried three hours before calling.

"Mr. Bryant the third, please calm down. I am truly attempting to address your problem. Now let's start by clearing your browser's history. Do you know how to do that?"

You read that with an accent didn't you? 😒

Tuesday:
I just finished rewriting/editing someone's speech on of all things, rice. I love rice, Basmati, Jasmine, Brown, Wild, Long Grain... Along with pasta, it is a shamelessly versatile food. Rice and writing don't just come together on their own. I don't believe in coincidences, which is why, I believe that the universe brought this to me. What fun! 😂

Monday:
The first actual friend that I made after high school sent me a friend request here 7 or 8 years ago. It was nice to reconnect, and oddly we found ourselves in the same town. For this many years I have been reminding myself to get together with him outside of social media. He died yesterday.

The lesson here is obvious.

Have a good one!

Winky

I've said it before, and even written about it; only grandfathers and great-uncles are allowed to wink at adult males. It's as if you and the winker share some sort of naughty secret.

The woman ahead of me in the grocery "7 Items or Less" lane, had 43 items including a case of snacks and one of water. The 40-ish guy behind me in line muttered something like "Express, not!" I turned around, we chuckled, and he smiled and winked at me. I turned back around worried. "Oh no he di'nt?"

Once I was handed my receipt, he told me to have a good day. I turned to wish him the same and he did it again. I am sure that it was innocent, and I enjoy pleasantries with strangers, but that was two hours ago, and I am still creeped out.

Also, as I was leaving the store, I stopped in the restroom to do something about that weird scratchy feeling in my underwear that has annoyed me all day. I pulled everything down and discovered a dryer sheet in my underwear.

Yeah, it's been that kind of Friday. 😜

A bargain?

A lesson in frugality...

A saw this huge sweet potato pie in the grocery for 99¢, and couldn't resist. I don't usually purchase pies, but I thought "What the heck?"

It felt very cold so, I assumed that it had been frozen. When I got home, I put it in the oven at 175° to warm it, and dry out any excess moisture. It had too much nutmeg for my tastes, but was generally pretty good; the flavor, consistency, and crust were acceptable.

Around, 1:30a.m. I woke up bloated and nauseated. A little voice whispered, "You bought a 10 inch pie for 99¢." I will spare you the details of my six trips to the baffroom (sic).

Black humor

I went to sleep and woke up with a heavy heart. Twice yesterday I was accused of being mean spirited, of making fun of others. I truly love people, and wish even the bad ones well. I just believe that I am imperfect, as is everyone, and that this can he humorous. Humor is how I cope with the ugliness of the world. We have become so fragile, so delicate, that we cannot laugh at ourselves... I still can.

I find the world to be histerically funny! I like to laugh, and find humor in most situations, I always have. I even remember my grandmother's funeral when I was in the eleventh grade. Grandma's sister was there, I secretly called her "The Professional Mourner," because she was exceptionally dramatic, and on que for great wails, nashing of teeth and such.

At the end of the service, the coffin lid was raised, and we filed past giving our final goodbyes. I was seated again as my great aunt approached the casket. "Oh, dear sister, I will so miss you," she wailed/weeped. She leaned over to kiss her deceased sister, and as she attempted to stand tall again, the button of her blazer became caught on the handle of the coffin. Overcome with grief and drama, my great adult tried to step back, and to the side, not realizing that she was now attached to the death box. The coffin sat on a castered riser which started to roll to my left. My great aunt and grandma were rolling towards the stairs to the far left of the pulpit.

My eyes widened as I anticipated an undignified cartoon-ish ending for both women. Suddenly, it seemed as if the entire congregation noticed the rolling casket with a stooped over great aunt attached. Some bounded to the top of the stairs to stop potential disaster, while others attempted to unhitch my aunt and some how lock the wheels of the riser from rolling. The room finally sighed relief, and my aunt was free to faint. I covered my face rocking and shaking. I had always been a sensitive boy, so people thought that the situation was too much for me. A woman's gloved hand rubbed and patted my shoulder to console me as I laughed silently to myself. That was the funniest thing to date that I had ever seen. I have apparently always been a mess.

Le Visite Chez le Dentiste

What a friggin day! Around lunch time I went over, and emptied my Post Office box. I grabbed a yogurt, and sat upstairs in the little university mall. I opened the second letter, which was from my dental insurance carrier.

The back story: Last month I had two fillings replaced because I hadn't learned that no good can come of clearance aisle almonds.

The insurance letter was to notify me that they rejected payment of one of the fillings. They apparently have notified the dentist. I've heard nothing from the dentist, and don't plan to ask. The carrier's reasoning was that it doesn't allow more than one filling in a 24 month period. "This has got to be in error," I thought!

It was at this point as I took another scoop of my peach yogurt that I felt something sharp in my mouth. The cap from a front tooth was gone. I spat the yogurt into napkins, and there it was.

I called the dental factor as I like to call it, and was told I could have an appointment in three months. I hung up and went there. I was met with the most incompetent office manager ever. She has had computer issues registering me three times before. Anywho, I learned that my dentist left for India or some such, never to return. "Can someone else see me," I begged. The doctor taking the old doc's patients is leaving for the day, I was told. (At 3 in the afternoon) I wasn't bleeding or in pain, therefore, my vanity was only considered an emergency by moi. I then dug deep and summoned "Angry-Black-Man-Les." I am not proud, but it took five minutes to be seen.

A knowledgeable petite woman with a great manner explained why what happened happened. This has happened four times over the years, and after her explanation, I was surprised that it hasn't happened more often. I immediately trusted her judgment and recommendation. She even assured me that it was barely noticeable, as long I don't offer huge smiles. I have and appointment in three weeks to have done what should have been done 20 years ago. Don't expect a toothy grin until November.

As I walked away from the place, I thought "Well, it could be worse. I could be without dental insurance." ...or, maybe I am just getting ahead of myself?

Microaggression and Retail or Can a Brotha Just Get a Suit?

This is an example of a microaggression:
A personable handsome young friend who has just started out in the corporate world went to that huge department store (in the large fall fruit city); you know the one, they have a sparkly red sign almost demanding that we "Believe" during the holidays.

He was prepared to purchase at least one professional outfit; suit, shirt, tie, shoes, and even socks. He wears as I do, (and a very large segment of the male population wears), a 42R. He selected a suit he liked, and texted me for my sartorial counsel. I liked it, I explained why, and we discussed shirts and ties. He asked store personnel for assistance finding his size, and was told by a snippy sales associate that they were out of his size. "What about a 40R? I sometimes can make that work?" No 40R's either... He is told that he cannot be accommodated. My young friend is new to suit shopping, retail laziness, and microaggression.

He texted me the problem. I asked how two of the three most popular sizes in men's suits could be out of stock? Why didn't the sales associate try another store, or guide the young man to another choice? My young friend didn't want to be bothersome or make any kind of scene so, he decided to check back in a couple days on Friday.

After work he stopped back at the department store, and found his size, 42R by himself immediately. He asked for a dressing room, and was pointed the way. While trying the suit he discovered that the pants were 30W and not 33W.  He works out daily, has six-pack abs, but prefers a 33" waist, slim fit for comfort. He asked the sales associate for larger pants. He obviously sensed something was screwy here, and has called me leaving his phone on Speaker.

I heard a woman's voice telling him that he could only purchase the suit as is. She stated that she could not switch pants out for a larger size. I know this to be complete bull. In addition, while 42R is maybe the most popular jacket size, I would guess that the percentage of adult males with a chest that big and a waist that small is <1%. In fact, I have complained numerous times over the years about the 36W or 38W pants that come with 42R suits, and have to be altered to remove three or four inches. Sometimes the back pockets almost join. To accommodate men, the majority of labels allow switching. How is the lad supposed to purchase suit pants two sizes too small?

I was really annoyed at this point, and advise that he leave the store and never return. We ended the call. I text him a couple minutes later:

Seriously, I wouldn't go back there. They should be trying to sell you a suit. You shouldn't be begging to buy one!

Although black, my young friend believes that microaggressions are a constraint of money and status, and a text message is hardly the best venue to wake someone. I have thought for some time that the big city would wake him because it doesn't sleep.

The Doors to Hell

Last night, I awoke from a nightmare around 2:15 a.m.. I was so startled and disturbed from the experience that I was awakened several more times before I finally rose.

I don't remember dreams very often, and haven't had a nightmare that I recall since childhood. This was a significant event.

There were three players in my dream; my late father who died in 1989, the Devil, and yours truly. The dream began with a lengthy job interview. My dad was smartly dressed as usual, and the age he was at his death, two years younger than I am at this writing. I was also sharp, and answered what seemed like dozens of typical interview questions. There were even questions pertaining to the processes and results of other interviews that I have had over the years. Dad asked why I didn't get this or that job? He sat and listened, although his facial expression never changed. He looked kind and nonjudgmental. Finally, the interview was over, but still no idea how I was being taken, he did not offer any verbal communication at the end. However, I was invited to go for a ride.

Dad held the door as I entered a pristine condition, 1999 Cadillac DeVille. It was gold with a rag top. It was so clean, and smelled new. I sat calmly, patiently trusting the situation. We drove what seemed like a relatively short distance. We arrived at a very large grey warehouse looking building. Dad drove the car inside, and the giant garage door closed behind us. We got out of the Caddy.

A short 60-ish grizzly looking man walked towards us. At this point he made me feel uncomfortable, and I stood closer to my dad with my left arm just above his waste. He still said nothing bearing that interviewer's poker face. The short man walked over to very large doors about 8ft square. The doors were level with the floor.

The short man opened one door, and then the other. Giant flames licked towards the ceiling from the opening. I somehow suddenly knew that the doors were opened to hell. I looked at dad, who nodded slightly confirming my assumptions. I looked again at the raging flame, at dad's face, and back at the flame. I buried my face in my dad's chest as we knew it was time, and that the short man was the Devil. He gently pulled me from my dad, as I awoke dripping in sweat and tears.

You are probably Not the father...

This episode of people behaving badly...

A little confusing, but follow along. A couple on the bus was arguing loudly as their restless two year old looked on. The thin guy demanded the cell phone from his very large woman. He quickly flipped through her pics while muttering "I wanta know why _____ here look just like yo other n***a you had with that dude?"

The woman denied any resemblance. "She do Not look like _____." The angry dude finds the pic he is looking for, and holds the camera next to the innocent child. The woman behind me whispers to her friend next to her "I wish I had some popcorn."

Again, the mother denies any resemblance, but even less convincingly than before. The guy is still angry, but calm, as he disagrees with the woman. Maury Povich pops in my head.

Suddenly, the child jumps from the seat to the floor, and races to the back of the bus. I could here a voice somewhere behind me say "I know, baby, I know."

Worst Mother of the Year...

And, the "Mother of the Year" award goes to...

A young woman on the bus had three children in tow, the oldest was about 3yrs old. All three were in various stages of meltdowns... They were screaming and kicking the back of my seat. I did not turn around. What good could come of appearing to place personal comfort above empathy?

I see self important folks like that all the time, and I don't wish to be them, but damn! I was in no mood. I normally take the express bus south; it takes the expressway while skipping over a couple miles of city stops. Frankly, the express bus has fewer passengers, and far less colorful, rowdy people.

From my stop across from the hospital I can see the expressway on-ramp. On four other occasions within the last 30 days (this day making the fifth), the driver has simply skipped my stop, and gotten on the expressway. I suspect only because bus routes are carefully monitored, the driver realizing her error has gotten off the expressway, and circled back to pick me up. While this made me wait in the sun for an extra fifteen minutes or so, it is the last express bus of the day going my, and I would have to walk the half mile to the bus hub downtown to take a regular route madness bus.

This day, again I watched the driver skip my stop. I waited twenty minutes in the blazing sun of 90°F heat, and then angrily walked downtown. Once there, I waited 35 minutes to board a packed bus of characters; a drunk lady with no bottom teeth trying to kiss a drunk dandy, several drained souls who clearly had had enough for one day, very loud people conversing about nothing, a teen with a giant mohawk and t-shirt which read "Straight Outta The Closet," a couple other teens visibly disturbed by that shirt, and of course, The Worst Mother of the year seated behind me.

I am sure that I bristled and stared out of the window. I may have tried to say a little prayer as the dandy in front of me tried to fend off a slobbery kiss. The kicking and screaming behind me caught my attention... It was then that the mother screamed at her children "If y'alls don't shut the fuck up, um gonna punch all y'alls... Dead. In. Yo. Shit!"

The entire bus seemed to gasp and look away. I imagine people were thinking "If that's what she has for her own children..."

I most certainly understand the results of poverty, early parenting, and a failed educational system, but those children don't stand a chance at anything other than replication of a life of misery. By children I included the 20 year old mother.

SUITS

Below is the text of a letter I sent to a very recent college graduate regarding personal choices and business attire:

Kid:
I just wanted to take a little time to clarify a few points concerning clothing and our interactions.

For at least forty years I have been following classic men's dress and casual clothing. I have researched ,watched, and learned. Trends come and go, but the rules of classic men's clothing have remained the same. When I offer what I know, it is good counsel based on my experiences. No, not just opinion, but based on good information.

I would be remiss if I did not tell you that your approach to corporate business attire is odd to me. You seem to believe that your new corporation gives a Fuk if you are extra or hot. You seem to be gravitating towards styles that more so reveal your personality, rather than corporate culture.

When one is hired by any organization, one (in return for compensation) agrees to first and foremost forward the brand of that organization. Certainly, your own personal brand factors in there somewhere, but the bottom line is that you agree to be who They want you to be. If their brand isn't something you can agree with you move on to an environment that is more in line with that which is acceptable to you. 

That said, there are basic business attire rules, most of which are honed or even perverted by particular organizations. Conservative attire is probably the best place to start with your organization. As I suggested a couple times prior to your internship, you should have used part of your time there to study what others wear. They already know that you can do the job, they want to know if you can fit in, move up etc.. In order, to get ahead they need to believe that you are one of them. They need to believe that you both understand and accept their culture. 

As I said yesterday, look at what your bosses wear, and go from there. This is more so a uniform than an expression of personal tastes. Personal tastes can only be reflected within your organization's identity.

More pointedly, your choice of a black suit paired with brown shoes is not classic professional attire, it is indeed trendy. I would be asking myself, "Am I really going to work at a trendy organization?" Does a trendy style forward my own personal brand as it aligns with my employers? If you can't answer an emfactic yes, I might rethink my choices. Sure, your company may not go ape shit with your initial trendy choices, but trust me, they won't give you long to catch up. 

Further, I wanted to suggest to you that in particular, Facebook and Instagram both have hundreds of accounts and groups devoted to classic dress clothing. I follow at least a couple dozen of these individuals and groups. They all post daily, offer ideas, and there are dozens of people willing to field and offer great answers/direction to sartorial problems. I cannot stress enough that how you present yourself is greatly important to achieving your goals, and controlling your brand, how you are perceived.

As always, I hope that I have been of great help.

As an aside, we don't need to argue over these or any other points. I do my best to offer you great useful information; if they are contrary to your rational thoughts, reject them. It's not a matter of right or wrong-ness. It's about taking good information and making the best choices that you can based on those choices.

-Les

M.Y.O.B.

Drama in real life...
I pulled the cord on the bus, and nothing happened. I gave it a tug again, and the entire cord contraption on that side of the bus detached, and fell down. I raced to the front of the bus so I wouldn't miss my stop. I told the driver about the cord, and she was kind...

Suddenly, a large angry woman made her way to the front of the bus. "I saw everythang! He yanked on that cord hard and done broke the whole thang. Ain't you gonna call the po-lice?"

The driver interrupted the woman "You're alright. Have a good day, Sir." I apologized and wished her the same.

*The next time I even think of not minding my own business, I will think of that woman.

Perspective

I see 5' 1", 90lb, Gladys, with her walker chair on the bus. Until today I had no idea that she was on her way to a kidney dialysis appointment. She is a spry good humored 80 year old. I enjoyed watching her share her animal crackers with the one year old across the aisle. At her stop, she hurried across the street guiding her chair like a race car.

Behind me sat a young woman swearing to herself because her hair wouldn't stay in place.

The Stones Had It Right

An actual conversation I witnessed this afternoon...

The scene: A hospital room with two elderly women patients. Patient#2 is gravely ill and delirious. Patient#1 is on the mend, and to be released in a day or two.

Patient#2: (between moans) Watermelon... Watermelon... I want some watermelon.

Patient#1: Me too!

Patient#2: Why don't you go get us some?

Patient#1: I can't. They won't let me.

Patient#2: Why not? I want us to have watermelon.

Patient#1: They say I have pneumonia...

Patient#2: What? Lawd have mercy?

Patient#1: ...

Patient#2: How we gonna get the watermelon?

Great advice!

In the grocery store parking lot, I saw a spry elderly man get out of his vehicle. On his back windshield was a large sign reading "retired."

I told him that he looked too young to be retired. He grinned and told me that he would be 90 years old on August 17th. His advice for longevity and youth was "Stop watching TV... Get up and move around, even if you need to sit back down in another minute!"

His wife shook her loving Italian finger at me and demanded "Never get old. You know what I'm saying." I thanked and wished them both well.

I should have hugged them.

More Dental Fun...

For one hour and twenty-three minutes, I sat in my dentist's waiting area. At one point there were 13 children there in various stages of laughter and tears. One little girl showed me over and again that she knew how to brush her teeth by demonstrating with the new sealed toothbrush she had been given.

A young teen entertained us with the magic of his Fidget Spinners. His little cousin attempted to put as much terrible into two as he possibly could.

A black woman who had been waiting as long as myself went to the counter, and got very black on 'em. "I gotta go, 'n I need my teefs ta.Day!" She was next. No fair! I don't know how do do that!

The oversized abstract paintings were actually not that bad after staring at them for an hour.

A black dandy quietly entered carrying a small oxygen tank tethered to his nostrils. He was seen immediately and left ten minutes later like royalty.

Another woman snored loudly as her husband pretended to read. Next to them, a granny on a walker warned three small Ethiopian children of the dangers of not taking care of their teeth. "I'm old and my medicines made my teeth fall out. They gave me fake ones, but I can't chew so well no more." The children were all smiles and as attentive as if being told their favorite bedtime story. I smiled at them like a university registrar. You know that vacant plastic smile were you wonder if you are actually being wished dead?

I sat wondering when my tooth extraction would save me from them all.

Brawn and no bite...

I had a dental appointment today for a check-up, and cleaning. As I waited my turn a uneasy looking man of perhaps 35 years entered the office. He looked more nervous than most who hate going to the dentist. His black jeans, tank top, and sneakers were covered with paint splatter. I noticed that the sneaks were actually randomly artistic. He gave me a quizzical look; I imagine most guys don't smile at his footwear. I shot back a look intended to mean "Yo, dude, deyz art everywhere!"

I also thought it semi-curious how muscularly carved this man was... Greek God, yada, yada, yada.

He was next. The very attractive receptionist offered to help. "I want to make a appointment to see somebody, but I don't do no dentist chair." The young woman told him that new patients, had a teeth cleaning, and an examination on their first visit. He demanded and questioned at the same time "Y'all put people to sleep for dat?" The poor woman still smiling broadly seemed to ask with her eyes. "What the F' is happening here?" She turned to her co-worker. The man repeated himself to her. "I can't take nothing done to me in a dentist chair." "Hmm... I never tried that," I thought, never missing an opportunity to amuse myself.

His huge muscles tensed further as they seemed to plead his case. A supervisor was summoned... The nice lady carefully explained that it was not the practice of that particular practice to sedate patients for routine office visits involving cleaning, and such. Brawny dude became agitated, and stammered as he seemed to look about for them, the big dudes that would take him to the chair. I had now crossed the line from entertainment to fear, and moved a tad to the left in my chair for an easy escape if necessary.

Suddenly, the man remembered that he knew a nurse on staff there and asked to see her. He sat next to me for a half hour staring at his phone. He probably didn't even know I was there. I imagine this was just as well because I would have been pummeled, after I involuntarily blurted out, "Nice muscles, afraid of dental equipment are you?"

Then, as if scripted, the outer office door opened, and there stood an eight year old Asian boy with his parents. He extended his arms and pressed his palms against both sides of the door frame while declaring loudly "NO!" The man and the boy both looked too tough to cry.

No way to end a week...

Around 4:45pm, I started my 3 1/2 mile walk home. There has been beautiful sunshine and 77° temps today, which always puts me in a great mood. Roughly a mile and a quarter into my walk is a stretch of blank space; an almost empty medical parking lot, an Asian restaurant, and a church that won't come alive again until Sunday morning.

This area is heavily trafficed by vehicles in that this is the main road through the city. I usually only pass a handful of fellow pedestrians on this route. I have been uncomfortable in this area since I was followed by teens last year.

I don't know if the teens that I encountered today were the same two, but they were equally as dangerous with the same intent I believe. I am very aware of my surroundings and did not hear the bicycle until it was upon me. I figure they must have been laying in wait for me. I heard a speeding bicycle, and felt a large thud against the back of my head. I was a bit stunned, but kept my footing. I now know that the smack to the back of my head was made by having a two or three quart Tupperware bowl filled with dirt tossed at me.  The bowl and lid bounced from my head, then apart, and into the street, near the curb. As they sped off, I noticed the two teens were on one fairly small bike. The one peddling wore a white T-shirt, and asked the other "Did you get him? Did you get him?" The other wearing a black tee giggled as he looked back at me, and said "yeah, but..."

I stood for a couple seconds, and with the exception of a pounding headache, I was okay. I noticed a bus shelter across the street, but feared they might return before the next bus arrived. I continued my walk a little weepy. What an incredibly messed up world we live in?

Dear Kitty: Friday's Almost Done

Random things from my Friday:

1.
Freaked out... Phone wouldn't charge with 11% battery power remaining. Wires, and old chargers everywhere, they were all useless, then I discovered that nothing was plugged into the wall. I might go to bed early tonight. 😕

2.
Random guy on the street: Yo OG, 'sup, babe?

Me: Hey

*I was however thinking "He probably knows that I am going to have to Google all that."😕

3.
I found a twenty dollar bill on the ground, said a little prayer for prosperity for whomever lost it, and stuffed that sucker in me pants!

4.
A personal best; 170.5 miles of walking in one month. That's just the 22 business days that I am counting, and inclusive of four days that I took public transport... So, 170.5 miles of walking for 18 business days.

5.
An acquaintance/stranger says "Hello, how are you?" Then you respond with "Fine, and you?" Aren't you a little put off when they actually answer the question, with something like "very well, thank you..." or, more startling, they add why they are or aren't okay.

Whoa, this is on its way to quickly becoming a conversation. I really didn't want that. No, I was just trying to do what I imagine extroverted people do. 😜😢

Good night!

All before noon..

Why me, Universe?

I was standing downtown when a total random hip-hop stranger dude walked up to me and timidly asks "So, what made you shave your moustache off? A little creeped out, I told him that "it was time for a change." He awkwardly added "it's really nice." I thanked him, and luckily the bus arrived to end our exchange.

To take aways:
1. The weirdest stuff happens to me.
2. People aren't dealing well with Les Sans 'Stache.

And this earlier...

Years ago I was given this diamond/silver ear stud, but never wore it. I thought it lost, but it reappeared recently. While, I have a pierced ear, I usually wear a tiny flat disc. Anyway, I've worn this for about a week until some time during last night.

I woke this morning to a slight discomfort in my right butt cheek, only to discover that the diamond was stuck there. I'm taking this as a sign. 😜

...but, but, covfefe. What about covfefe? 😀

Les, sans 'stache

Little Nephew: Uncle Lester, your face looks kinda weird.

Me: Hmm...

LN: Yes, something is very wrong?

Me: Is something missing?

LN: (Stares a bit, and then wide eyed covered his mouth while screaming...) Nooooooooooooo! Your moustache is gone. Get it back! Get it back!

Me: You don't like it?

LN: WOW. Didn't see that coming.

Me: (Smiles)

LN: You are very handsome, but grow it back by tomorrow!

Dedicated to serve...

*This is Les Bryant, reporting from the terrifyingly tense situation at Townsend and Harrison Streets. Apparently, a mother duck was leading her ducklings across Townsend Street, when one of the little ones got trapped in a sewer grate.

I took the attached photo from my doctor's office. The excitement slightly elevated my blood pressure reading. As you can see; Three police cruisers, an animal control officer, and an actual news team are on the scene. It was touch and go for more than an hour I am told, but yours truly witnessed the successful capture of the duckling. He/She was placed in a pet carrier to the delight of those dedicated to serve.

Friggin People?

This from my file: Friggin People?

On the first floor of the little mall where I am seated there is a US Post Office. Over the railing I notice a stylish, suited, forty-ish man going from person to person. He made his way to the second floor, and eventually to me. He asked if I had a couple dollars. He offered no explanation as to why a total stranger should give him money. I told him "No" as I noticed letters in his hand.

I told him I could give him a couple stamps if that's what he needed. He said that he indeed needed two stamps. I still snail mail cards and notes and always have stamps. I started to tear off a couple Harvey Milk stamps, (Milk, was of course, the gay San Francisco councilman who was murdered by a fellow politician. There was a major motion picture celebrating his life a few years back. Nevertheless, the postal service honors those who have contributed greatly to this country and culture.) The man interrupted me and asked "Do you have anything other than Harvey Milk, I'm not comfortable with that?" 

I was speechless as he took two planet stamps, and hurried away.

I refuse to be on constant guard because the next guy could be a jerk, but goddamn if I didn't want to chase him and tackle him to the ground.

Everyday compassion...

I do believe that our paths cross for a reason. As I waited for my bus a disheveled mid-30's guy staggered over and leaned against the shelter. He was sobbing. I bristled assuming he was either drunk, and or stoned. In between sobs he turned to me. "I just came from the hospital... My mom died." I listened as he extolled her virtues. I asked if we could call someone to get him. He said, everyone was at work. He had only told his brother and sister. I finally got him to sit on the bench next to me. He talked and sobbed, mostly incoherently. I just sat and listened until our bus came.

A Days Adventure...

Three, no four true tales from my day:

#1
From my file: "Now, I've heard everything!"

I had a great chat today with a friend who shared tales from teaching photography. Apparently, he and a Freshman Photography major shot a couple rolls of film, and they were to develop them. He carefully outlined the process...

As soon as the development process began, the girl turned the lights on in the darkroom destroying the negatives. The shaking student announced that she was having a panic attack because she was afraid of the dark.

Rumor has it that she might be considering a new major.

#2

I walked past two women praying outside of Planned Parenthood's offices today. My first thought was "Get a life!". 😒

...but, then I immediately realized that was both mean spirited and punny, and felt really bad.

#3

Why aliens won't talk to us:

I overheard a loud argument on the bus. Apparently, a 20-something lesbian got drunk at a party and kissed another, not realizing she was in a relationship with a very angry 40ish woman. Angry woman told the other woman that she would let her off the hook this time because she didn't know she was "kissing somebody's B****."

The conversation got heated as the angry one prompted an apology that never came. As a gentleman, I suppose I should have tried to intervene... "Ladies, ladies..."

Nah, they both would have cut me. 😒

#4

Overheard conversation between two twenty-something males:

1st guy: She says I look dirty. She says I got to get white undershirts. What's a white undershirt?

2nd guy: They're like a white T-shirt, but with nothing on it.

Me: (judging) 😒

Kids these days...

As I waited for my transfer bus at the hub downtown, I noticed five teenaged girls. They were typical; giggly, fourteen, but looked twenty-three, and a little loud.

Only three of the five boarded. They sat nearest to the driver oblivious to the posted sign reserving those seats for the elderly and handicapped.

The driver shut the door. Just then, one of the pair with glasses and red dyed hair screamed out that one of the girls who had not boarded had her phone. The girl stood repeating herself in fright. She moved towards the driver and pleaded for her to open the door. One of her friends asked the driver to wait, again explaining the situation. She first yelled for her friend with the phone, who was too far away to hear. She jumped from the bus and ran towards the friend who was now at least a couple hundred feet away.

Then, there were two...

The driver told the girl that she had a schedule and couldn't wait. Enraged the glasses girl was speechless for a second as the doors closed and the driver headed for the exit from the bus hub. In disbelief the girl said "Seriously" a couple times to the driver, as her friend having retrieved the phone stood outside the bus confused. The other girl demanded that the driver open the doors. The driver told her that once the bus was in motion she could not just open the doors. The doors could only be open at an actual bus stop.

Neither of the pair were having this. They pounded on the door, and called the driver a bitch. Glasses girl started to freak out. Her friend made it known that she was having a panic attack. "Why are you being such a bitch? Do you want her to have a panic attack?" Glasses girl was near hysterical, and her friend not far behind. They pounded on the door. Oddly, the girls outside the bus seemed to figure that the driver was headed to the next stop, and appeared to be hurrying there.

Inside the bus, the driver was responding to a query as to whether she was "that kind of bitch to let her have a panic attack?" "Yeah, I'm am going to show you that I am that bitch," the driver said far more passively than I might have at this point. The bus now was in the inside turning lane of Adams Street, signaling for Salina Street. Both girls were still yelling about the impending panic attack while pounding on the door. The second girl seemed to be searching as she pounded. She found it. She found some sort of emergency button that released the "lock" on the door. Swearing, both girls forced the door opened, and quickly jumped from the bus onto the street. They were narrowly missed by another bus in the other lane. My bus full of people, (including myself) was now pissed. A middle-aged woman across the aisle spoke our horror aloud "Damn, now this is a fucking incident, and we can't leave until security and the police come."

"Fuck you!" She was probably a nice lady, and I didn't mean it personally, which is why the words remained in my head. Security et al came, and finally we were on our way. I sat there thinking how nuts this was and how panic stricken glasses girl will be in jail. I hope that her friend didn't walk off with her meds too