What's up, Jungle Fevaaa

In My Car in the Ghetto Holler

Yesterday I went over to a friend’s house to get prints done.  This guy two weekends ago had his house broken into and nearly $8,000 worth of his belongings were taken so I was prepared to experience that scene in the movie where the professional woman is going to meet with someone with her clipboard or briefcase and she’s making so much noise because her heels pierce the layer of glass covering the ground and a man in his boxers and beer is standing in a doorway watching this lost, innocent kitten wonder blindly to it’s death.  ANYWAY! So it’s a two-way street with parking on the opposite side.  I drive down, pass these two men slooooowly swag stepping towards my car.  Noticing the house numbers, I realized I was going to have to turn around and drive past them to park.   I found a driveway to turn around in and drove past the men and parked my car.  In my sideview mirror I could see them so I locked my doors and fiddled with my bag to let them pass.  (Long story but last year a man approached my car and mugged me so you can really never be too safe) It couldn’t have been longer than 20 seconds that I was loading things into my bag when this man POUNDS on my windshield with the side of his fist.  I whip my head around and this man is patting his lips with his pointer and middle finger in a gesture I couldn’t identify as him wanting a cigarette or a kiss.  Either way, he wasn’t getting any.

They left, I got in the house fine….. end of story.

Cary Street Gym Holler

blehh, this blog is already slipping.

time to catch up!

two days ago I was at the gym and I got a solid workout on… had a nice sheen to me, went over to the mats by the basketball courts to work the little game I have by doing some highly suggestive splits and general post-workout contortions. Surely enough, there were four boys playing basketball and one of them caught my subtle cry for attention. I heard one voice loudly recommend that another go “lock that down” to which the other defensively responded, “those are the kinds I always go for” I’m assuming by the tone in his voice those don’t usually go well, I’m also not sure what kind I am but whatever.

One guy, with his shirt being held up by sweat, halfway exposing his developed abs, comes over to—what I would vainly assume was his intention—get a closer look. He walked past me and 10 seconds came back and just kept shaking his head and whispering (to himself?) damn damn damn damn. I gave him a curious look and he asked me: can you teach me how to do that??

This happens nearly every time I’m over at the mats and I’m still not sure what the correct response is from me or what they expect me to say. Yes, I could teach you how to do a backwalkover, would it take time? yes. are you actually interested in learning this? do you have experience in doing these things?

I usually just smile and wait for them to either leave or tell me that they are serious.

In this case he just went back to his boys. Alone, I started doing some handstand pirouettes, and when I came into upright positioning, I was applauded with a couple enthusiastic “swag”s and they were all standing right beside the mat. When I made eye contact with the guy from before told me, “I’ll be back next week for my first lesson.” I smiled awkwardly and gave him a hesitant “ok”

Night #2

Quick rundown of the night’s activities and amount of alcohol that was consumed to add some credibility when I tell you this story was not created by altering substances.

The family came down to take me out to birthday dinner and spend some quality time, which was cool.  I split a margarita with my mum—never thought I would see that day.  Then I returned home to get hoochied up and make my rounds. I went over to a friend’s house for a birthday shot (probably two hours later)… briskly walked a few more blocks to meet up with someone at a bar.  On my way there these two guys, who looked like their style never left those apathetic high school years of oversized, metal band shirts, complimented by that full view of the boxers, were playfully shoving their drunken selves across the sidewalk.  I considered moving to the other side of the street to get out of the line of fire but then deemed it more daring to not and to prepare myself to get hostile if one of them was launched into me.  They got real quiet as I approached.  At this point I wasn’t sure if they were plotting something and if I should be channeling Rocky but the exchange was more-or-less along the lines of: ohgod, you’re beautiful.  and then I instinctively waved and blurted “THANKS” in what I didn’t reeeeally mean as, but it probably came off as, sarcasm. 

Got to the bar, two very expensive birthday shots later I was more determined than ever to get to my next party.  The walk took an eternity but I made it two blocks before this Irish voice bellows out: aye, miss beautiful warker!  Have ye ever had a mahn do a backflip fer ya. I’m a suckerrr for originality so I stomped myself into a halt, mid intersection, to meet this fella. His name was Willy and normally, in a more sober state, I would just want to get where I was going or say something polite to wrap up the current interaction but it was my birthday and this man was offering to do backflips… you don’t pass up that opportunity.

So he started trying to get his smooth talk on but I was like: holdonholdonholdon, I’m just trying to see some acrobatics… 

This spunky man then sprinted away from me, towards traffic, did what I thought was going to be the performance of a roundoff and then followed it with an exceptional backhandspring.

I geeked out so hard.

Commended the guy on his commitment to the holler and then ended up knowing one of his friends so it was that awkward, he-wanted-to-go-because-he-already-just-hollered-and-was-done-but-his-friend-stuck-around-to-chat… whatever.  I also recognized one of the other guys in the group from the bar last night (it seems as though I am getting around).  My friend walked me the next two blocks to my party.  

We passed a parking lot which was hosting about 8 girls circled around this car in their tiny outfits that I swear did not cater to bending or reaching of any kind. They had some music bumpin so I started getting down, walking style. and these two guys, separated but still associated, with the girls rooted on my swag all the way to my destination.

At the party I had a few drinks and eventually gave one of my lady friends a playful lap dance. This guy sitting quietly off to the side grabs my arm and asks if he can get one…. I just kind of drunkenly let it slide and was dismounting to chat with other people and he straddled his legs in preparation. I just snapped him this, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look and walked away. 

Later in the night, his friend grabbed my arm from three people away and leaned into me to ask: are you into big, black guys? 
….FORWARD ice-breaker

This tinier girl in a super cute outfit that I have NO idea what her name is right now but she was saying goodbyes and so I walked out with her to make sure she had a safe way back.  turns out she lives across the hallway so that was easy but she was full of suuuper flattering compliments and then asked if I was into girls. (these three people all came together, I think they were just trinna get it in… if I were about 17 shots deeper this could have been a vaaaary different post.) anyway! I told her that I appreciate beauty in all of it’s forms but what can I say?? I’m into dudes. 

Good night for the blog.

Morning Already

After surviving the predators of the night I got in the apartment, forced myself to down a couple glasses of water and crawled in bed.  Lately the only thing that keeps me warm at night is my laptop and stolen internet fueling my addiction to Project Runway.

Blahlala woke up not… hunggoverrr but not particularly on point. 

I literally have fixings for toast and thats aboooout it. So I concluded that I would take the advice of so many alcohol connoisseurs and try eating fast/heavy food to cure whatever this was that I was feeling.

I tossed on a crop top that is probably acceptable for a 7-year-old and a jacket donated to GoodWill from what must have been from the most cheerful second grade teacher to ever exist and stepped out into the world.  On my way back from picking up food there were two men walking towards me, wearing clothes that were too heavy for their feeble bodies to carry. Neither of them broke eye contact from my body from a block away and as our paths neared it seemed as though their clothes became heavier and heavier until I thought they were practicing their bowling throws.  To be fair, I think they were trying to out swag each other but they ended up looking like they were going to knock me over with their wrecking ball arms. 

AND THEN, once I hit the five-foot radius, the guy closer to me, made this noise—that I swear only reminds me of my grandmother which is not exactly a turn on—where he put his lips together but then dropped his lower lip enough to make… okay. like if you’re trying to get something out of your teeth without using your hands. THAT noise. 

I gave him the, “ooookay” look and kept walking.

The 6 AM Stroll

Last night, after winding down from a generous birthday celebration, I did the ole routine of making sure everyone had a safe way to wherever they were staying followed by my notorious independent woman walk home.  I had about six blocks to walk and was wearing a pair of ridiculous wooden, golden boots which I figured would ward off any stray ally dwellers, unable to handle such sensory overload.

I got two blocks away from my departure when two men walking in my direction called for my attention.  Obviously, I had little to no interest in whatever they were about to let me in on so I continued walking. 
One man then proceeded to ask me if I was going home alone.

My pace quickened and I made sure to walk on the same side of the road as the well-lit police station.

He then FORWARDLY asked if he could come home with me.
No response but an over-the-top sigh and head roll I figured would establish that I wasn’t felling his smooth-talking ways.

Then, in what I can only assume was a last resort, he told me that he would make me feel like a “newborn rooster.”

(I later looked up “newborn rooster” in google images, which is actually kind of adorable but I’m not sure I ever want to feel like—or be related to feeling like—said animal. * http://image.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/422902/422902,1282671906,
2/stock-photo-little-newborn-baby-rooster-isolated-on-white-59681860.jpg * )

I didn’t think these guys were going to break off any time soon so to end the misery I gave an exasperated “fuck off” and thankfully they got the clue.

THEN! literally a block later, this stumblebum, unable to be contained by any sidewalk, was wondering the night. As I neared, he stopped mid-street, turned around and chased behind me laying sweet, incoherent nothings at my feet.  Now I’m not sure if he was upset at me for not returning the hodgepodge of hollers or upset at himself for letting himself be so open and vulnerable around a girl he barely knew but his tone QUICKLY changed from flattery to violent and he then trailed off into the night.

Looks like I’m off to a good start at 21.

Salutations!

According to my drivers license, I’ve been 21 for about 13 and 3/4 hours now and thus-far I haven’t left the house, by myself, without getting “hollered” at so it seemed appropriate to acknowledge this trend by dedicating a blog to it. 

Keep in mind I’m not like a suuuper attractive girl but I am a gym rat and I tend to wear shorts that—let’s just say—don’t always pass the finger-tip rule.  I also swag around the city like I own the place so even though I’m not asking for the occasionally unruly attention, I guess I kind of am?  

So welcome to the perspective of the girl on the sidewalk shamelessly trying to ignore the catcalls of blue-balled society.