(Continuation of Ebola Mom Part 84, and part of the Ebola Mom series)
I just want to say I am shocked– SHOCKED– by the number of you who just assume that I will continue to work for Ebola Mom after she completely disrespected me by blowing me off for an entire month, then popping back up and requesting my services as if nothing happened, expecting that I’d just be sitting here waiting to snap into action at her command. SHOCKED.
Clearly you know me very well.
We will resume sessions on Thursdays at 6pm.
(Continuation of Ebola Mom Part 83, and part of the Ebola Mom series)
Well, well, well…..(and also WHAT?)
As always, please note the date stamps.
(Continuation of Ebola Mom Part 82, and part of the Ebola Mom Series)
Please note the date stamps.
And you WOULD bring a fruitcake.
Forgive my blatant racism, but here’s a list of the most respectable group of men (from most to least respectable), by race, based solely on who has been standing up to give me their seat on the subway in this last trimester of pregnancy.
- Black men. All the medals. Seriously. Every. Fucking. Time. Yesterday two black men actually started playfully arguing over which one of them wanted to give me his seat more. So I settled the dispute by letting them both stand, and placing one butt cheek in each seat. Everyone was a winner.
- Hispanic men. I’d say at least 3 or 4 hispanic men have stood for me in the past month, but yesterday’s was my favorite– covered in bright, intricate tattoo sleeves and roughly 30 piercings, he not only got up immediately to give me his seat, but he silently offered me his unopened bottled water as well. I just wish I hadn’t assumed his silence was a language barrier and replied with “No, pero gracias– muchas MUCHAS gracias senor!” because he answered with “Yeah no problem” and ZERO accent.
- Asian men. Only one Asian man so far, but he stood up and did a subtle little bow in the process, which just made me feel like pregnant princess royalty. It was so fucking adorable and stereotypically Asian (in the best of ways) that I’m going to go ahead and let him represent his entire race in politeness and decency.
- White men. What the fuck is wrong with you? This should be an easy competition for you to win based on the sole fact that there are statistically more of you. Yet not ONE of you has stood up. Not ONE! For real? Is this a Trump effect or have you guys always been THE WORST and I just never noticed? (meh, false. I dated and hated most of you, so in that sense I DID notice, but now we’re in a whole new playing field of douchbaggery). Funny how you catch a glimpse of me and suddenly receive the world’s most important, life-or-death text, which of course excuses you from getting up because obviously you’re now just too busy and panicked, what with all these urgent crises blowing up your phone THE EXACT MOMENT I STEP ONTO THE SUBWAY, despite there being no wi-fi or cell service. But just know this– I’m on to you. Even if you ARE immersed in an emergency (you’re not), there’s no way your peripheral vision is missing the huge boulder that is my midsection, especially when I make it a point to sigh heavily and line up my grotesque popped-out bellybutton thisclose to your stupid liar face. And I’d like to send out a special, personalized “fuck you” to the young white guy this morning who let the woman sitting next to him juggling 2 grocery bags and a stroller WITH A BABY INSIDE OF IT stand and offer her seat to me, and still did NOTHING. Obviously I did not take the woman’s seat and insisted she please not get up, but this was your opportunity to help out a pregnant woman and an overwhelemed mother in one fell swoop, and YOU BLEW IT, SIR.
So that’s it. Those are my findings*. Did I really need to break this down by race, and was doing so kind of offensive? No, I did not. And yes, probably? But I notice what I notice and thought it was an interesting trend, and unlike people who claim “I don’t see race,” I’d like to counter with “Ok, but I have eyes.”
*Findings of this study** are based solely on MY experience and observations alone. They should not be generalized to apply negative stereotyping to any particular group of people, which shouldn’t really be an issue as all races above are presented in a complimentary manner. Except, as a reminder, white men. They are all dicks.
**calling this a study is an insult to the word study.
“Oh my god, have so much fun [at your bachelorette party] tonight! At my bachelorette party I got so drunk, there were MULTIPLE strippers, and there are just these ridiculous photos of me hanging off of stripper poles and, like, penises EVERYWHERE.”
— Parent of former student, just now on the street, while holding her 5-year-old daughter’s hand.
The kind of convo you’d only have with your best friend….
Best friend: “Your ring! Oh my god! Give me your hand right now (grabs my hand)– let me look closer. How many carats is that?!”
Me: “I don’t know…”
Best friend: “You don’t KNOW?! Oh, honey, you better find out. Who doesn’t know how many carats their ring is?!”
Me: “I don’t know…it’s his grandmother’s diamond, I’m not even sure he knows…”
Best friend: “Oh he KNOWS. Trust me. You go home tonight and you ask him.”
Me: “I’m not really concerned with that kind of stuff…”
Best friend: “Well, you’re wearing the ring so GET concerned, honey.”
Only this wasn’t my best friend. This was a random lady who lives in my building. Who I met ONCE.
This is why I don’t talk to people.
A few months ago a girl moved into my building– young, a teacher, seemingly normal and cool. Someone I would actually hang out with. We spoke in the lobby for a bit, exchanged apartment numbers, and said we’d see each other soon. I haven’t run into her since– until just now, in the elevator.
Girl: “Hey! How have you been?!”
Me: “Not much!”
And then our friendship ended.
Sitting here at DTUT coffee shop, sharing a small couch space with a stranger. Standard NYC Sunday. He is reading a very thick, distinguished looking book. I am reading my computer screen.
He glances at my screen, laughs, and says:
Guy: “Well that looks like something that will make someone dumber after reading it.”
Me: “It’s my blog.”
Guy: “Oh, shit. Sorry…”
Me: “No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong. You’re also now the star of my next post.”
Guy: “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that…”
Oh. I don’t care.