Crip Nation

Crip walking or rather “C-walking” for the hip is taking over the nation!  It’s the new fad that is sweeping the world.  I was first made aware of C-walkin’ about 6-7 years ago and never thought much of it.  I was living in East LA and all the kiddies were doing it…I observed and took notes.  I attempted to C-walk for my friends and family but they weren’t impressed so I decided to give up on C-walking for a while…put it on the back-burner.

So a few years go by and my sister and I are rolling in da LBC and C-walkin’ rears it’s ugly head again.  I made another feeble attempt at my life long dream of being a professional Crip walking fool.  I was a little better but in my defense; it’s rather difficult when wearing stilletto heels so once again; I was crestfallen over my treacherous C-walkin’ experience.

Then flash forward to a few years later and I meet some kindly c-walking folks around the hood and they reassure that it’s okay to fail at first with your c-walkin’ skills.  Yo need to practice.  My Crip-walking friends then told me that I need to practice everyday if I wanted to get good at c-walking…You can’t just go half-assed with your c-walking..you gotta want it…live it, breath it…be the C-WALK!!!

So I took heed and started Crip walking everywhere I went…at first I got funny looks, especially at work in the corporate environment.  They don’t take too kindly to random C-walking outbursts in the hallways.  But soon alas; I had the whole company c-walkin’…Now I spend my entire life c-walking…to the bus, to the train…downtown to county, around the hood when I walk my dog…at work, during work…I can’t stop.  C-wwalking is my reason for existence.  I live to c-walk.  I wake up in the morning and C-walk into the bathroom and even in the shower I do a little c-walking.  You can crip walk anywhere folks and it’s fun!  So when life gets you down and you think you have nothing to live for..just do the C-walk like me and my BFF Shirley do!People can’t help but smile at c-walkers…It will give you a newfound lease on life.  

So come on America; join Crip nation and the fad that has got Americans; young, old and wheelchair bound in a tizzy!  Do the C-walk!  

Elevator doors taking too long…

Has anyone else noticed that elevator doors sometimes cause for uncomfortable encounters upon exit?   You have a nice chat, visit, or whatever with a person…you wait for the elevator and say goodbye about 8 more times….you turn; they are still there waving and bading you good-bye.  Yeah, I get it; you think to yourself…I’m leaving and you are still waving goodbye…go back into your apartment you loser so I can leave in peace and roll my eyes without you possibly seeing my annoyance.  Go back… I turn around smile and wave again…(a big fake smile mind you; cuz I’ve already done this eight previous times)… The door opens up; thank god you think…finally; I can get away from this smiling, waving mutant of a human being who doesn’t know how to end an encounter properly.  So you turn around in the elevator; they are still fucking standing there…jesus Christ, go inside your apartment….FIRE, get in there… Nope still standing there with that stupid goofy ass smile and waving like a big fucking dork…goddamn, doesn’t he/she have a fucking life?  Some calls to make…anything???  What is the big fucking deal about going the fuck inside?  GO….bugular…he’s robbing you…he snuck in while you were busy waving at me…with that stupid never ending wave. Then the doors take forever to close and still waving and smiling…so you gotta do it again…wave and big fake smile.  At this point; you are hitting the close door button at a rapid rate hoping to end this madness and insanity…please fucking close; you beg of the door…in god’s great name, puhleez close the fuck up…. It closes….almost…and then your over zealous wave obsessed friend sticks their hand in the doors way to stop it; FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK…. You hit close door and ride quietly down the elevator while your friends good waving hand sits quietly on the floor of the elevator; staring at you and still trying to wave…you stomp on it for good measure…that’ll teach him to ever extending the waving ritual for too long.   Let that be a lesson to all over zealous, too long good-bye wavers…Next time; I rip the smile off your face…and I will feed your lips to the homeless out front masqueraded as hot dogs that are slightly mangled. 

Public Transit tips and observations you should be aware of.

MTA OBSERVATIONS

The axe…there is an axe sitting and flaying about on the Metrolink.  It sits there in it’s little glass case whereupon; anyone and everyone has access to the above-mentioned axe and all the privileges that go along with being an axe-welding maniac.   So hence; upon discovering the axe is there for the taking, my train pals and I decided on a nightly basis to take inventory of the axe and not only the axe in our car but all of the axes.  We made sure to sit close to an axe in case one of the prisoners who liked to patron the public transit decided to go on some crazy last minute killing binge.  We even one time asked the conductor why the axe is so readily available when a myriad of prisoners are aboard.  I mean, don’t they take away their plastic spoons in jail and lo and behold; the minute they get let loose; they are immediately given access to an AXE??  Is that the wisest thing to do?   He eased our mind by saying it was for emergencies and no one has ever just grabbed the axe just for fun or for killing purposes.  But you know if normal alleged non-criminals are thinking of all the criminal activities and killing the axe could do on the train; could you even begin to imagine what kind of thoughts are racing through a criminal masterminds mind? On the rare occasions we didn’t get to sit in close proximity to the axe; our nerves were tried and tested to their wits end.  Let this be a lesson to you; always sit next to the readily available weapons at all times if the option is there for the taking.  It will ease your mind and perhaps sway a few felons or would-be felons from pursuing whatever evil plan is running rampant through their deviant mind.       

CALLING FOR HELP WHILE ON THE SUBWAY  

On the subway; they announce and there is signs everywhere that says; “If you have problems, need assistance, or witness or are a victim of a crime….call the sheriff’s office”…and then it gives you the number… Hmmmm, good  fucking idea..yes indeed, that is if the fucking phones worked in the UNDERGROUND GODDAMN SUBWAY…you see; we are fucking underground in a tunnel where cell phones or any mobile device of any sort doesn’t work…so I’m getting gang raped on the subway and I have a hankering to call the sheriff’s office…ha, jokes on you; can’t do it…phone doesn’t work.  Okay fellas, gang rape away.  Even if the stupid loud speaker guy and the sheriff’s department think they are eluding criminals; they aren’t….a hard core felon or two have pointed this out to me numerous times while on the  subway; perhaps while contemplating acts of violence and/or the criminal nature.   Super, so you are down there in the subway getting gang raped at knife point and mugged for your bus fare and possibly getting sodomized and maybe even murdered; good luck; you won’t be able to call someone until you get the fuck out of the godforsaken subway which as you now realize after having your throat slit will be never.  

THANK YOU FOR RIDING METROLINK 

I need to point out that the conductors on the metrolink always tell us; “thank you for choosing metrolink”…what a crock of shit…  we don’t fucking choose the goddamn metrolink; it chooses us.  We don’t have a choice, we are forced to take metrolink….so thank me, my ass.  Instead they need to start saying; “thank you for being forced to ride metrolink cuz you have no other source of transportation to get you this fucking far to whatever the fuck your destination is”…ha ha ha…we forced you; the man is forcing you to take metrolink you fucking sheeple sucker mother fuckers….see ya in hell!  Metrolink hell, bitches!!!  Once again; I would like to sincerely thank you for being forced to take metrolink.  

METROBUS TELEVISION

Boluga Cavier…So if you ride the bus often enough; you start to realize that they have quite possibly the shittiest television in the world…not only that; but it is so completely NOT on target to the average bus rider.  For instance; I’m watching and this cooking show comes on telling us ghetto style piece of shit mother fuckers on the bus who can’t afford cars; how to make Boluga Cavier… Gee, just exactly what I wanted to know for the next time I’m on the metro bus on my way to Paris to cook some fucking fancy ass shit I can’t afford and don’t even know when or where to begin to find it…seriously, how many fucks on the bus are watching this and taking mental notes for when they get home so they can whip up a fucking batch of boluga cavier…just exactly how fucking many do you think are super concerned with boluga cavier and want to know the origin and the season, best SEA where to find it…(cuz we make it to a lot of seas, especially those halfway around the world to pick up a batch of boluga cavier)…does the bus fucking go to the Mediterranean sea?  Oh it doesn’t…than I don’t give a fuck about going there to pick up some fucking fresh boluga cavier…give me the old rotten dollar store variety…at least I know the bus goes there…then tell me about preparing it bitches!!! 

Don’t go to Lunch!

So there is a standing joke at my former work place; DON’T EVER GO TO LUNCH…if the owner, General Manager, Operations Manager or Vice-President ever asks you to go….although this may seem like a flattering offer in the beginning; it’s not!  Don’t be fooled…anyone who has ever gone to lunch with any of the above-mentioned people never comes back…It’s like the kiss of death. Walking to the guilittine, having your last meal, or shooting up your last dose of black tar heroin just before you creep away into eternal blissful obliviation forever.  (I don’t really know about that heroin reference but I figured it sounded good and it made me seem worldly…gave me a little street cred)

So at first we laughed about it…ha ha ha…look who is going to lunch with the boss.  I mean, I actually got a twinge of jealousy when he’d ask someone to lunch.  I think I am lunch-worthy, I sure needed it more than the rest of those fools anyways.  Why are you asking the most lazy obnoxious employee in the building to lunch?  They don’t deserve lunch; they are at lunch for four hours a day…everyday!  Why give them more lunch?  In fact, their title is almost lunch lady if she took anymore goddamn mother fucking lunches.  But little did I know in my non-lunch-going naivity…that the “lunch” was always kind of like a proverbial last supper…Indeed, a lunch I necessarily didn’t want to partake in until I was financially independent and didn’t need a job to pay my bills. You know, like never.So the first time it happened…I took note who was going to lunch together…watched them galavant off into the sunset as I starred, envious from my dirty, cob-webbed infested office window…a little tear trickled down my cheek as I watched them, so happy…laughing gaily.  It was a façade, a façade I couldn’t see through until later, like an hour later. An hour passes by…slowly slowly slowly and I think about them In all their “lunch glory”…those fuckers…I bet they are eating Applebee’s latest entrée treat and probably getting desert too…damn them.  Here I was, the star employee; sitting at my desk eating crackers from the vending machine.  Then all of the sudden; the vice-president pulls up in his fancy Lexus SUV thing; looking somber.  The gay laughing has been put to a halt…his assistant looks somber too; like there was a funeral.  And I was right…there was a funeral; a funeral for the career that was just buried by their pink slip and those two acting as the pallbearers.  It wasn’t pretty and boy was I glad for eating vending machine snacks that day.  I made a note of the days events for future reference.

So a week passes…then I’m trolling through the hall and a fellow Program Director (that’s what my official title was…I shouldn’t be directing anything though if you ask me…other than traffic and maybe a thirty piece orchestra in my dreams)…I digress though; he is asked to LUNCH…(do you hear dooming music playing in the background?)…he beams at me..even after hearing my theory about the “death by lunch” propaganda that I’d been spreading freely around the office.  Apparently, my observations and theories were lost on him though.  He was excited….ridiculously excited.  He thought he was being promoted or given a raise.  Wrong move sucka….you should never think those things…If the VP doesn’t fuck you; that Murphy’s Law guy will…either way; someone is going to get fucked with a large dildo and it’s nothing to get real excited about because you aren’t in a porn movie.  (whatever those seed of wisdom mean)So he’s real fired up; even after all my fair warnings.  Who am I to rain on his parade?  But I’m still taking notes for future reference in regards to all this lunch business…so this time around; I don’t get real jealous…just a little tiny bit.  I know he’s getting a good meal and I am once again; eating from the godforsaken vending machine…expired potato chips and rock hard skittles.  I couldn’t decide if getting fired and getting a stellar meal or staying employed and eating expired food was better.  It was a real toss up thus far.So hence; once again…my bold predictions were proved correct.  Same scenario all over again….somber people returning with one less in the lunch party than when they left…it was a pattern.  Well, I guess the first two times; I deemed coincidence…but over the next few weeks; it happened again and again and again…it was a pattern.  A pattern of deceitful lunch inducing horror and terror.  It was getting very scary…who was next?  I warned everyone to NOT GO TO LUNCH with those people…you will never come back.  It is the Bermuda triangle of lunch dates.  It will suck you in and you will never be found or heard from again.  Terror filled the hallways of work; the VP walks by you and you either turn and run the opposite way or you just plain don’t make eye contact.  In fact, I would go as far to constantly feign “meetings”…I was in meetings non-stop when he was around…which worked well in my favor; cuz it made me look like a stellar employee and at the same time; managing to avoid the dreaded lunch date offer.This seemed to be working for me…until one day; I came out of my office and realized all my friends at work had been fired.  Boy, this sure was lonely and then I started to think…what is wrong with me that I’m not good enough to fire now?  Huh?  At this point; I’m highly offended…Some of those cats were really cool and good solid employees…what is this saying about me?  And why the fuck don’t I get a good meal without living in the fear?  Four years later I’m still waiting to have lunch…I’ve committed every crime against the company but still no lunch…I’ve stolen pens, paper, notepads, printer ink (that shit is expensive too)…called in sick when I was perfectly healthy, pawned off my work on the interns, even committed a criminal act; all in the name of getting my day in the proverbial sun otherwise known as one goddamn mother fucking good decent lunch.  My criminal act by the way (hopefully they are reading this and get really repulsed and finally give me my much deserved lunch).I stuck my skinny scrawny arms up the vending machine and stole candy bars….I mean, I had the money but why?  When I could feed all of the remaining employees for free…you know, the ones who don’t get lunch.  It’s my own form of poetic justice. 

Girl Scouts are working for the Anti-Christ

Hey…is it just me or are the Girl Scouts EVIL…they walk around all adorable and cute in their diarrhea brown uniforms trying to sucker us into buying their goddamn cookies…standing outside Ralph’s and Rite-aid with their little cookie stands…making us feel all guilty and shit…I mean, you seriously have to run into the store and think the whole time; “don’t make eye contact…don’t make eye contact”…do not look directly at the girl scout…keep walking…head held down….and then of course; the same damn ordeal leaving the store…‘cuz if in fact; you  happen to “accidently” make eye contact with one of the evil, blood sucking cookie hocking bastards…you gotta make a good excuse before you enter above-said store…like my favorite; “do you take debit cards?”…good one…I know!! Of course the girl scouts don’t take debit cards; unless one of their overbearing yenta parents is gonna swipe it through their ass crack (which someone has offered by the way)…this line also works for the salvation army bell ringing guys too.  By the way, you are welcome for the helpful tip!!!

So then another big ordeal exiting the store…damn, the girl scouts are still there…it’s like they just sit and wait for you…staring and waiting…waiting and staring for your exit…ready to pounce on their prey…like you are the only person in the world they can count on to buy a four dollar box of cookies…it’s assinine!!!  It’s like it’s life or death if they don’t sell you a box of thin mints…like their parents wll beat them senseless if they don’t sell some goddamn cookies…which I don’t doubt by the way.If those girl scouts had half an ingenius mind…they would use all that bullshit they learn in girl scouts and fucking cook some marajuana into the cookies…you see…some poor bastard like me buys one fucking box…i go to my car…have a cookie and bam, I’m hooked…I’m back for another box and another and another and another…it’s very enpreneurual…not to mention clever…i guarantee you’ll have you’ll have repeat customers…for life.

Or you could do what I did when I was a kid…I’d tell my parents I was out selling girl scout cookies and I’d take that little form and write fake names, addresses and phone numbers in all the boxes until the whole form was complete (don’t complete it in one hour or people will get suspicious…I learned from experience…there is NO WAY in hell you can sell 5000 boxes of cookies in one hour in a five block radius…pace yourselves people)…Also, leave off names like Charles Manson; people know he’s not wandering the streets in search of girl scout cookies…you also might wanna leave off Ed Gene (he’s dead)…Linda Lovelace (also dead)…try to keep your fake people alive and kicking…Also, don’t be using people like Carrot Top; people know he can’t afford girl scout cookies…the ‘roid money has to come from somewhere and I guarantee it’s not his girl scout cookie budget…also, don’t use seasame street characters..everyone knows that Big Bird will get gravely ill from cookies…he only eats seeds and ass…Leave off Madonna, Snoop Dog and Ice Cube and anyone else who might have a gated security type entrance to their house and who live thousands of miles away from your vicinity…  It’s a very intricite, detail orientated scheme but it will work…if you follow my helpful hints… Then in all actuality…you play ding dong ditch and pee in people’s flower beds..see, everybody wins…your parents think your out hocking cookies when in reality you are helping fertilize lawns and get people off their lazy asses to answer the door and get some fucking excersize…I’m here for the betterment of the earth…You’re welcome… 

FYI; if your kid is in the Girl Scouts or any of those other lame groups; they fucking hate it…and hate you too for making them join such a lame group and having to hang out with lame bastards and pretend like they like knitting quilts and selling cookies and making fires with fucking sticks…THEY DON’T LIKE IT….THEY WILL PROLLY KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP FOR MAKING THEM JOIN…RIPPING OUT YOUR TOENAILS ONE BY ONE WITH A PLIERS AND THEN GOUGING YOUR EYES OUT WITH A RUSTY SPOON…AND LETTING YOUR PETS FEAST ON YOUR ROTTING CARCASS… You’ve been warned.   But if it makes you feel better; I think there is a merit badge for it.