Everytime I think awww, I may want children some day - I then see some little ill-behaved bastard that brings me back down to reality!

Once again, I was riding the nasty step-child of the MTA system, the J train. Of all days I really was NOT in the mood for these bottom feeders today, truly I wasn’t.  At five foot one and three qtrs (on a good day) I know that at any sign of fucking weakness, these ten hood-rat offspring’s could take me out. I’m aware of that and yet I could fucking careless because somebody’s child was going to loose an eye, a few scrotum’s, or something. 

So here I am three hours into my period :-{{ sitting on the train at the end of the seat  looking fierce in my Micheal Kors shades and cute lil work outfit listening to my old skool Bobby Brown, trying to mellow out.  In comes one of NY’s infamous ghetto hood rat clicks. Rolling a good ten deep a mixture of foul mouthed girls and boys, who couldn’t be any older than 15. Of course I heard them before I saw them and then besides the loud factor, one of these little bitches decides she must argue and cuss at the TOP of her young ass lungs to some overgrown ofe of a boy. So she’s walking and cussin and walking back and forth betwen the middle of the cart to the side where I sit, arguing with him; then again that idiot didn’t really have the oppotunity to say much as she was doing all the bullying.

Eventually after five minutes she tells him to “dead it then” and she strolls over to her duttygyal posse. He then now, after looking and feeling embarassed as hell - decides he’s going to lean against the doors besides my seat and lean in towards me to tower over me; with his three sizes too big jacket. Oh no Mr. Ofe!Man, I had to get fiesty and snatch off my shades so fast and give him a look like, lil boy…don’t make me snatch you up!  Needless to say, he knew what the look meant and took his loud Shreklike ass back to his pals. Why these folk wanna test me? huh?

THEN, these fools decide to talk even more loudly (all while cussing)about who wasn’t worthy to be someone’s gf or bf; mind you I’m hearing all this OVER my music.  At this point I’m so enraged I change my tunes from old skool Bobby Brown to Movado ( bullet-bullet!). Not to mention that this entire scene is taking place infront of some white folk and a french tourist. Why does that matter you ask? Because it’s just more fodder for old whitey, that’s why. I mean we all like to say that other’s opinions of us don’t matter but in the grand scheme of things it does.  It makes it more difficult for everyone, especially for young kids like my 13 year old brother. At 13 he is by NO means streewise, he’s a bookworm to the heart and attends Berkley Carroll School where is makes straight A’s (yes, he’s the perfect child my father never had with me) but in the street he’ll still be seen as just another young nigger that white women will have to switch their purse to the opposite side for. Hell as bad as this sounds, when I see a waywardly dressed you black male walking towards me, I too put on the meanmug and clutch my bag a bit more tightly. Sad but very true.

Presentation and what we put out there to others matter on lots of levels.

Instead of taking the bus on the second part of my trek, I decide to take a dollar van. Luckily we pull off quickly and away we go.  As we get to Francis Lewis Blvd, there’s a group of teens who’re obviously making a massive shit load of trouble.  Then out of no where we see two boys throwing GLASS bottles at passing cars!! Do you see what I’m walking about? This the shit, I’m always complaining about. WTF are these lil batards doing throwing glass bottles at people’s vehicels?  Then if these ballslickers get shot down, folks wana put up we miss you signs and teddy bears, blocking the damn side walk. No! Point of damn correction: I don’t miss you lil bad ass shepard for the devil children.  I the tax payer am sick and tired of you little punks blasting you music and chilling infront of the barbershop bringing down the damn property value. I mean is it not bad enough that I have to shop in Farmbria where the Haitian massive feel dem a run tings? Its to the point that they want to jump the line and if you get vex  you wake up wit a dead cock in the middle of your street.

The adventures I have while going HOME si just way too much for me sometimes.

T.