PSERENDIPITY

It happened again.

I’m standing in line at this place, looking down at my phone, purposefully not ever glancing up. When….

W (for wierdo): Hey! Why you looking so mean?
Me: **not again** Because I don’t wanna talk to anybody.
W: Well, you ain’t gotta look so mean.
Me: **stare**
W: I tell you what I’ma do….I’mma buy you a pig ear sandwich.
Me: A pig ear sandwich? Wha?
W: Yeah. You ever had one? You want bar-b-que sauce on it?
Me: No, and no thank you. I do not want a pig ear sandwich.
W: Oh. You don’t look like you want no pig ear sandwich anyway all dressed up. Where you been? I bet you in here getting something all fancy and stuff like a whole slab. Probly something for your family huh?
Me: Nope. Just lunch.
W: Oh! Well you sure you don’t want to pig ear sandwich??
Me: NO.I.DO.NOT.
W: Hmph, you don’t look like you like pig ears anyway.
Me: Really? Well, what does somebody look like who likes pig ears?
W: **looks around. rubs his chin (seriously).** Her! (more…)

That, my friends, is the name of my newest admirer.  I met Cooter the other night at the airport.   First of all, I’m very grateful that NerdGirl was there with me.  Normally, when these kinds of things happen, I’m alone and people probably think I’m making them up.  But I now have a living witness to the fact that I am, indeed,  a wierdo magnet. 

I’m not sure why Cooter was at the airport, but I am sure that he was leaving there on his way to Kemper County, Mississippi.  He kept asking me if I wanted to go there with him.  His Daddy was going to give us a ride.  Then he introduced us to his Daddy.  No, he wasn’t a teen.  He was probably about 38.  I know, I know.  How could I turn down an exotic trip to Kemper County with Cooter and his Daddy?  Silly me.

He also commented on how nice my kids looked.  Both Aidan and Lovegirl.  I’m not sure why he assumed that they were both mine since clearly there was another grownup with me who looks just like the other child.  But, he was blinded by my beauty and he didn’t even notice NerdGirl — who, at this point, was wayyy too amused and not at all ready to jump into defense if necessary.   I told him that I had two more kids and a husband at home, but he didn’t care because I looked NICE!  Not even like I had no four kids.  Then he showed us his Daddy again (who, incidentally, was very careful to stay at least ten steps ahead of him).

I told him that we really couldn’t chat because I had some safety concerns what with it being late at night and us being in a parking lot with two kids.  Not sure if he got it, becuase he just asked me if anybody ever told me how NICE! I looked, and I told him yeah, my man tells me all the time, and so do my four kids.  Not to be outdone, he told that he’d make sure he’d tell me every single day.  And then he introduced his Daddy again. 

So, it was finally time for us to part ways.  Of course, I have an open ended invitation to Kemper County, and, you know, what else could a girl want?  I wasn’t even going to tell this story because I know you guys will be like  “how does she do it?”  I mean, my wierdos always offer me the finest things.  They offer to give me the world, they want to take me on fine dining excursions for neckbones and sushi…and now this.  I can’t give away my secrets, ladies.

All I can say is, its tough being me.  And you know its hard on Tim, you see what he has to compete with?

Go HERE for NerdGirl’s commentary on Cooter.

While we were traveling, Tim was gracious enough to stop the car long enough for me to get out and go to the bathroom.  Thanks, Tim!  So, I’m in the bathroom at a Chevron.  In walks other chic (OC) and she goes into the other stall and was like ewww!  Then I hear her knocking on my door, frantically. 

Me:  I’m in here, but I’ll be out in a second!
OC: Oh, it’s okay, there’s just pee on the floor and the seat, UGH, I hate that. I don’t know how women manage to get pee on the floor.

I come out of my stall and proceed to the sink, not having said another word.

OC: I wasn’t trying to get you to hurry or anything, I just didn’t wanna come in this one, but I had to go.
Me: Oh, that’s okay.

Then, my eyes look to the right (or maybe it was left, I have a problem with left and right. At 34 years old. Tragic.) and I see OC. Lemme say it again… I SEE OC. Sitting her nazty behind on the toilet. Sitting. On the very seat that was just grossing her out. Apparently, I looked surprised.

OC: Oh! Girl, I wasn’t even trying to close the door, my bad.
Me: Oooh, okay.
OC: So, girl, how was your Christmas?
Me: *frantically washing my hands* It was okay, thanks.
OC: Mine too, except I didn’t get to see my kids cause they’re with their dad…blah blah…skippy skippy….

She kept talking.  I’m blow drying my hands.

Me: Okay, well, sorry to hear that about your kids. Bye!
OC: Thank you girl! It was nice to meet you! Merry Christmas!

And I left her sitting there. But, as you can see,I’ve been scarred for life.

It was Christmas, 2003 and I was one of the DelTeen’s primary advisors.  As was customary, the girls were Salvation Army Bellringers and this year, we had decided we go hustle at the local WalMart.  So I, on behalf of my beloved Sisterhood went to chaperone high school girls as they rang the bell.  I think that something happened and I had to go to my car or something, so when I get back to the chaperone place, one of the girls tells me that the manager had come to tell them that they were in the customers way or to move or something like that.  I go to one of the cash registers and ask them to call the manager back up there for me.

Now, keep in mind we’re in my hometown so I know most of the cashiers and other folk that work there.  Miss Stank manager comes up and I ask her what the problem was and how I could remedy it.  She got straight loud with me.  I was like “hold up, ma’am, I’m just asking you what the girls did so I can figure out how to straighten it out.”  She.went.off.  And THEN she called another manager to come up there.  So, people are looking.  I look down at what I’m wearing to make sure I still had my letters on — you know, so I could know exactly how to clown her.  I had on a poncho with Delta all over it.  I thought about taking off the poncho, but I had on a tshirt with Delta all over it.  Plus, some of my church members were looking and they know my mama.  I had to remain calm.  No matter what, its never pleasant when church members report to your mama that you were in Walmart acting a fool.

Other manager gets there, he tells me that if I don’t like it, we can leave.  Then he says NO!  YOU can just leave right now.  I’m like “if I don’t like what, sir?  I just asked this lady a question.  Then louder I ask why on earth he would throw out the bellringers because I was asking the lady a question.  They weren’t having none of it, they put me out. Or so they thought.

About an hour later, I’m still there working out the details of returning the kettle and getting all the girls home safely.  I had gone to the car to put on another jacket which concealed my membership. So, I’m sitting on the bench waiting on a parent and here comes Ms. Manager all smirky smirk.  I had decided I wasn’t having none of that this time.  She says to me:  “If you don’t have a ride, I can call a cab for you.”  After that I remember the words b**** coming out of my mouth and me advising her that I was indeed a grown azz woman and that I could probably buy her broke managerial azz.  I think I said something like “You don’t know a da*n thang about me.”  By that time, I was standing up looking her dead in the eye waiting on her to get froggy, but she was clearly afraid.  And security was approaching.  They then escorted me to my truck.  I didn’t go into WalMart for like a year after that.  Honestly, I STILL get mad when I see those people ringing those bells.  It’s like post traumatic stress syndrome.  I’m gettin mad right now just thinking about it, and it’s 5 years later.  Those sons a bitches.

Yet, none of these were funny.

CoCo the Flying Shephard
We’re going to PetSmart right down the street from my house. I decide to take CoCo so she can get out some. Well, she likes riding with her head out of the window, so I specifically set my rear view window where I could see her AND I rolled the window up enough so her head could just stick out. Well…….apparently I misjudged. I’m traveling down Lakeland Drive (which is a busy street 4 lane highway) when I look in the rear view mirror and immediately start yelling “Ahhhhhh, sheeeetttt!” I try my best to slow down slowly, but CoCo jumps her azz out of the car. Yes. Jumped. Out. 30 mph. My mind is going in slow motion while I watch CoCo roll over and over and over as she hit the ground. Honestly, I was thinking “Damnit, I done kilt Aidan’s dog.”

But alas! I manage to stop the car before I roll over Coco and what does she do? Lay there like a wounded dog? NOPE. She gets up and takes off running. Into the traffic. So now I’m running after Coco yelling for her to come back while she plays in  traffic. I am about to have a breakdown. Cars are stopped. People are watching. Finally, she comes and jumps in the car and I’m near tears, all shakin like I’m a crackhead or something scared out of my mind. She just gets in like nothing happened, laid down on the back seat, and looked at me like “What?” Aidan says “Hey, Cokey! I saw you when you was playin!!” Why are both of them oblivious to the fact that CoCo should not be alive right now?

He is bitten
We finally get to Petsmart and Aidan says “Ma, I’m itchin.” I look under his shirt and there are about 20-30 little bumps there. Panic sets in again. Chicken pox? Measles? Hives? O.M.G. what is happening to my baby??? He tells me that something bit him on the playground, but there are just waay to many bites for me to clearly believe that no one else noticed this. I call Granny Gran to see what this might be. I’m all in a tizzy. She gives me some home remedy and I high tail it home to test it out. I put Aidan in the tub, but I had to go upstairs to get this alcohol she said I needed….

Help!
So, I leave the bathwater running and I’m charging back down the steps. I fall. Down the steps. I swear that my foot is broken in two, but I just took an advil. Watch for the post tomorrow about my foot needing amputation. Immediately after the fall, I’m screaming and Aidan is hollering:

Aidan: “What’s wrong Mommy?”
Mommy: Nothing baby, mom just hurt her foot.
Aidan: You can call my Daddy if it hurts bad.
Mommy: Okay, Aidan.
Aidan: Come here, let me help you fix it Mommy.
Mommy: ***trying to move*** AAAAHHHH GEEEZUS! I.CAN’T.WALK.
Aidan: (Now standing beside me naked) Mommy, if you need Jesus, I can get him for you.
Mommy: Really, baby?
Aidan: Yeah, just let me put on some clothes…..oh, and I’ma need the car.

Somebody done stole my bank card information and is charging stuff on my bank account. In Mexico. Son of a …. The sign on my forehead must be linked to a satellite. MEXICO? At a toy store. MEXICO? Do ya’ll realize that that means somebody could be anywhere in the world actin like they you? I am in Mississippi. I mean deep in the middle of Mississippi, not even over by Louisiana or Tennessee or nothin like that. And somebody is in MEXICO pretending to be a black woman from Mississippi whose name they can’t even pronounce. Mexico.

but it’s like one of those high pitch dog call things. Only drama can read it. As far as I can tell, it must read: IF YOU CAN BRING ANY KIND OF DRAMA, PLEASE STOP HERE.

Today I’m in church. Anyone who knows me, including the people who know me at church, knows that my son loves to play drums. Loves is an understatement. So, in church I give him my Bible and 2 pens and let him just go for his. Today was no different, except I was sitting by mean lady who apparently didn’t know me. While the choir was singing, my baby was going to town on his drum — so much so that he inspired the kid behind him to play, too. So, another lady asks mean lady “What is that noise?” And mean lady just goes off about it’s the kids playing the drums and rolled her eyes at me. But, she never actually said anything to me. Cause had she said something to me along with the eye roll, communion would have had to be served on the 2nd Sunday — I woulda turned church OUT. So I decided that this Sunday, I was just going to let it ride and made a note to myself that next Sunday, I would be sure to bring his actual drumsticks and be certain to find her in the audience and plop right on down beside her. Question, ya’ll: Am I wrong for letting him play the drums like that? I really try to make sure that he’s not louder than the choir, but sometimes when you have kids and you hear noise all the time, things are quieter to you than they seem to other people. So, I need some honest opinions on that.

Anyway, church is over and we’re walking out. A lady happens up next to me and comments about how handsome my son is. I reply “Oh, thank you!” You know, I was real genuine with it and everything. According to the sign on my forehead, “Oh, thank you” must translate into “If you have any drama, I’d love to hear it.” The lady starts telling me how her son is 3 and he has a lot of toys that she needs to give away. So, I’m thinking maybe I look like I need toys — I mean, I DID go bear legged (no, I did not mean bare, I meant bear) in some sling backs cause I didn’t feel like going to pick up stockings for heels yesterday. So maybe I just looked raggedy dressed out of season or something. Then, she started telling me about how her son was supposed to be a twin but her eggs didn’t develop, then she told me that she had miscarried in August and she really wanted a girl. So, now I’m feeling all bad about her situation — but I still don’t know why she is telling me all this. Surely I don’t look like a Doctor, my weave isn’t all messed up (ya’ll know a lot of black women doctors present with hair issues. Not all, but a lot). Plus, lawyers just don’t generally look like Doctors. Have you ever noticed that? Then, she starts telling me about how some kids got abducted in the mall and how she was in the mall with her mom and her mom let her son run off and he almost got on the escalator. And how if he would’ve gotten on the escalator he may have been killed or abducted. I kid you not. By this time, I’m wishing there was clearance for me to straight break out into a sprint. Does anybody know how to get this friggin sign off my forehead????