Sexed up Great-Grandmothers - Rated R

Sexed up Great Grandmothers

By

Imari Jade

Yes, the title does come with a story, but I have to set it up first. Happy March 1, 2011 everyone.

Today’s blog has an R rating. So if you’re easily offended please stop here.

I left work early so I could go buy my bus passes for the month and like most of my life nothing goes as planned. I had to go get the money out of the ATM machine and of course, it was broken, so I had to use another machine and pay a fee. I’m not bitching about the dollar fee, but doing so made me miss the bus I was supposed to catch. So I had to wait on another bus for 25 minutes on the first hottest day in March, carrying a coat because it was in the 50’s when I left home this morning. And wouldn’t you know it I had on something black again today and it felt like the sun was only beaming on me and no one else.

Here’s the deal. I live in one parish in Louisiana and work in another. This means I need two different types of public transit passes. You would think they would sell them at some midpoint, but no. So first I had to ride the Saint Claude bus up to Canal Street, get off, and walk two blocks to Walgreens to buy the bus pass for New Orleans. I had to wait for the cashier to call a manager to bring one up to the registers. Neither woman was very friendly. Neither one of them smiled and I felt like I was bothering the cashier but she had no problem taking my $55.00 for the pass. The entire transaction took about five minutes but it felt like a life time.

I left Walgreens and walked back two blocks to the Westbank bus stop. I hopped on a Terrytown bus, traveled across the Mississippi River and got off at the bus terminal to buy the second pass. It was so hot in that office I wonder how that cashier could sit in there, but I guess you can put up with anything when you need a job. This also took about two minutes and the cashier was on her cell phone talking to someone and she never got off the phone, she just took my $60.00 and gave me my pass. I left out of the door, looked at my watch, it was 4:30.

I seen the outbound Westbank Expressway bus leave at this time, which meant another one should have been pulling in the terminal going inbound, which was the bus I needed. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and a lot of busses came and left but no Westbank Expressway. These two little old ladies walked up and started talking to me. I don’t know I think I have one of those faces that says, please come up and talk to me because I don’t know why but people seem to talk to me wherever I go. I didn’t want to appear rude so I spoke back to them.

One of the ladies sat down on the cement bench next to me while the other one stood and continued to talk. The conversation began with her telling me that both of them were Creole and that she was born in Thibodeaux and lived on a plantation. The conversation should have ended there, (it would have if my mother had been with me) and it really should have ended when she told me that she remembered slavery. Black history month just yesterday and I wondered why she decided to talk to me about her heritage. It didn’t seem to matter that I was an African American female and I might be insulted by her talking about sugar cane and watching the slaves worked the fields, but I wasn’t born in that generation, never been a slave and didn’t feel that I had to comment since it didn’t really bother me. So she continued talking. It didn’t take me long to figure out the one next to me was nearly deaf. The standing woman had to ask her a question three times before she answered. Well, the standing one told me she was 89 years old, opened her jacket to show me her slim and trim physique. I complimented on how good she looked and she proceeded to tell me that both of them lived in a retirement home close to where I live and how she hated it because the women were a bunch of gossips.

Somewhere in the conversation we began discussing our kids and she told me she didn’t think I was old enough to have kids. She told me she thought I looked sixteen. I took the compliment but assured her that I have grandchildren. Then I wondered why she would be having a grown up conversation with me if she thought I was a kid.

I don’t know how we got on the conversation about crime and then she told me everything from how her grandchild was molested, how she got mugged and then she started talking about she didn’t like the way the way the young men wore their pants riding down on their behinds. When I tell you there wasn’t a subject we didn’t discuss during this time and then all of a sudden she began to talk about her deceased husband and how he cheated on her and came home with “crabs”. He left her for another woman who lived around the corner for them and they hung out in a neighborhood bar. Apparently she went to the bar and started kissing on some man to make her husband jealous and he got mad. She told me that this other guy was a good kisser, but she wasn’t a flirt. And of course I’m laughing as she telling it to me because I’m figuring she must have been quite a hoot as a young woman. She told me that every time she walked past the cemetery she told him “thank you for the check” (she was referring to his social security check that she now collects) and that’s one of the reasons she was at the bus stop with me was because she had just come from shopping.

Next she started telling dirty jokes. What kinds of foods does a priest like to eat? Answer: Nun. Why is there a gate around a cemetery? Answer: Because people are dying to get in. There was another one about a man telling her how long his penis was. She asked him if it could touch his butt and he told her yes, so she said, “I told him then go f__k yourself.” I could have died at that moment.

Okay, so I’m appalled and laughing at the same time with this old woman.

Then she gets on the subject about going to church and the hypocrites that are in the church with her. She has a problem with how many times they pass the collection plate, especially since she ran into her priest and two nuns in a casino in Mississippi. I told her they were probably putting her money to good use. That got a laugh out of her.

You might have noticed that we talked about quite a few things. We didn’t have anything better to do since the bus was an hour late. When it finally arrived they got on first and I was one of the last to board. The bus was packed with riders. The standing woman patted her lap and wanted to know if I wanted to sit down on it. “No, I’m cool,” I told her as I walked to the back of the bus where I found an available seat. That kind of ended my conversation with them. Ah, senior citizens. You have to love them.

I had just enough time to turn my MP3 player back on before some woman set next to me and crushed me half to death. Ladies, if you butt if bigger than the average sized bus seat down try to squeeze into it.

As you can tell this blog is about characterization and I had a couple of winners today. I could probably use her in a story and might one of these days. Some of my old teaching came back to me. Listen to the people around you. This afternoon I got an earful.

Imari Jade

Adventure in Friday Evening Bus Riding

ADVENTURE IN FRIDAY EVEVING BUS RIDING

Or

THE CRAP YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH IF YOU DON’T DRIVE

I’m all decked out in vampire slayer black on one of the hottest February days in New Orleans, and of course the sun is bearing down on me while I stand at the bus stop. It’s 4:35 and the bus is scheduled to arrive at 4:40. The sun I can deal with. The old geezers ogling me while I stand at the bus stop, no!

There is always a group of people congregating on this corner. Every now and then I see a female, but most of the time its men. Some of them I suspect are retired and have nothing better to do, but the rest are unemployed, disabled or just lazy. This afternoon all of them are drinking beer and the youngest in the group must be about 40. A couple of them have walked past me once or twice, smile and then go back and sit down on the seat on the side of the building where I’m standing. And even though I’m wearing dark sunglass I’m not blind so I do see one peeping at me from around the corner. Needless to say I want to bus to arrive on time. Yippee here comes the bus.

Its parade season here in New Orleans and it’s a Friday evening which means there are probably three or four parades scheduled to roll. This also means I’m going to catch hell trying to make it home from the east bank of the Mississippi River where I work to the west bank where I live. I have to ride two buses. So we make it to Canal Street and I get off the first bus and walk a block to the second bus stop. First of all they are filming a movie on this street and they have turned off the traffic lights and they are blanking red in four directions. I have to get across this street without getting hit. Luckily they have stopped the traffic coming from the left. So I make it across the street and hope the second bus will be able to get through. There are a lot of people milling about and police directing traffic. It would be much easier to just close off the streets and re-direct the rush hour traffic, but no, they want to do things the hard way.

The bus arrives and we board. The police have stopped the bus until after a scene is shot. Well, that’s good for the director and the actors but I am ready to go home. After holding us for about fifteen minutes they finally move one of the police cars and the bus turns the corner. Of course I look out the window to see if I recognize any of the actors. No, they are all dressed in black trench coats and it looks like either it’s a gangster movie or a vampire flick. In my head I’m wishing that the sun is burning up their behinds like it did me since we were all foolish enough to wear sun-absorbing black today.

So now we finally get on our way and I pull out my reading glasses and my book, but actually I’m concentrating on the two guys who are probably going to be staring in my next book. Let me set the scene, or introduce the characters. I have been riding the bus with this one guy for a couple of weeks now and have actually had a conversation with him. Even though it seems that I’m reading I am totally aware of what’s going on around me on the bus. He always manages to sit on the same side of the bus I do, maybe a seat or two away. And every now and then he sits across the aisle from me. Occasionally I catch him staring at me. Maybe it could be my imagination. He’s not exactly the kind of man I’m usually interested in. He’s tall, blond, has green eyes and has an average size build. He’s not hero handsome but he has an okay face. I guess his age to be in his later 30s or early 40s.

Character number two – I’ve also been noticing this young guy every evening. His blond, thin to the point of anorexia, but not a bum or a street urchin. He’s usually dressed like he works in an office, and he can’t be any older than 20. I would say 18 but I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. The first thing I think when I saw him was that he’s would be a perfect semi character (Semi is the more feminine male character in a manga), because of his lithe build. I never noticed him on the bus with us before, but two days ago he gets on with the other blond and of course my imagination just went wild. They sit next to each other and then I begin to wonder if they are gay. The two of them get off the bus together and I think if they’re not gay they could possibly be related because of their hair color, but my instincts tell me that this is not the case. Yesterday morning the older one gets on the bus, but I don’t see the thin one (at first). Then I see him crossing the street and walking back in the other direction like he walked the older one to the bus stop to see him off to work. So if he’s gay, then why is he staring at me, I wonder. Maybe bi-curious?

So today, I notice a third blond. This one is in his twenties too, but more stockier and attractive than the other two. He’s carrying backpack and he’s sitting next to the other two on the bus. A possible ménage? Maybe! Or maybe he’s just a friend who lives in the neighborhood.

A young black woman walks past them to get off the bus and I notice that the older one is checking her out. A young Hispanic woman gets up and walks past him and he doesn’t give her the time of day. Hum, gay, bi-curious and he has jungle fever. Okay, I can work with this.

I forget about them for a minute and the bus turns on Poydras where we run into obstacle number 2. There are police officers and food vendors everywhere, setting up for the six o’clock parade. Oh gawd, let me get across the river before all this stuff start rolling. Traffic comes to a halt. Fifteen minutes later we turn on Convention Center and I’m praying that they are not moving the floats out of the barn and blocking up the streets. Fortunately, this does not happen and we make it to the bridge. We run into obstacle number 3, the same scenario on the west bank side of the river…another parade. We only sit in traffic about five minutes while they block off the entrance to the interstate ramp.

My suspicions are confirmed. The three blonds get off at the same stop and walk away together.

Now there are some other things going on aboard the bus. It is crowded with Hispanic and Haitian women who work in the Central Business District. And believe it or not, I can hear them talking rapidly and loudly while I’m trying to read and trying to listen to my MP3 player. I have the volume up so loud that it’s hurting my right ear, but I don’t lower the volume because JYJ is singing, “Be the One,” and the song is too good to turn down.

I must note here that I haven’t seen stinky cutie in a couple of days. Maybe he’s given up bus riding or he has his car fixed. I still can’t believe I’m still looking for him every day. Maybe I have a death wish. For those of you who don’t know who this is, he’s this really cute Korean guy that I noticed about a week ago, but he had B.O. which is a total turn off for me. I mentioned him in my blog last week so if you want to learn more you have to check out that blog entry (Every Man is not a Hero).

It is about 6:30 when I finally get off the bus, walk the three or four blocks to my front door. I open the door and hear “Maw Maw,” above the MP3 player song I’m listening to. Its number one grandson and his baby girl from hell sister (Loving known as Adrian and Autumn). I haven’t seen them in a couple days and they are there with their father who is putting together the new television stand and television. Autumn is entertaining me with tales of McDonald’s chicken nuggets she just ate and hadn’t saved for me. She makes up by giving me a plastic muffin from her tea set. In return I got the honor of giving her a Popsicle.

The mini monsters start arguing over the desk top computer. He wants to play games on Nicholodean and she wants to see the Willow Smith’s video on YouTube. Finally their father takes them home fifteen minutes later. I jump into the shower, fix myself something to eat and sit down to Twitter.

A new Korean girl group, Bella is rocking EnVogue’s, “Don’t Let Go.” I don’t usually listen to the girl groups, but I can give mad props to them for this song, and for the fact that they are balancing themselves on some stellar high spiked shoes and boots. And then finally Super Junior M, has a new mini-album. Well, looks like I’ll be investing some of my hard earned cash in two new CDs. Now it’s time for me to write.

Chat with you later.

Imari Jade

Not Every Man's a Hero

Not Every Man’s a Hero

By

Imari Jade

It’s no secret that I have this thing for pretty Asian guys and my chance of finding one in Marrero (or so I thought) was slim to none. Even though we have a Korean church in walking distance from my home, I’ve never seen one. But two days ago this gorgeous Korean guy boarded the bus when I was on my way to work and my eyes automatically moved from the passage I was reading in the novel to him. Hmmm, he’s slim, but he’s not tall and he doesn’t have a butt. But his jeans were riding low on his hips and the shoulder-length black hair and bangs was a plus in his favor so I thought I could forgive the fact that he’s not six feet tall and have a bodacious booty. Not perfect, my devious little mind calculated but workable.

He didn’t sit next to me but instead chose a seat across the aisle and a row behind, but I could see him move out of the corner of my eye. So I settled back into my seat and got back to reading while we crossed the Mississippi River Bridge into New Orleans. The guy gets off the bus on Poydras Avenue, which is the central business district which means he’s either about to transfer to another bus, working in the area or going to court. By the way he’s dressed in jeans and a short sleeved shirt I’m thinking he’s probably a laborer, not that that’s a bad thing. But I am looking for someone to wine and dine me now and not the other way around.

Later that evening I look for him on the way home. If he works an eight hour job he should board the same bus I do to go home, since it’s the last bus going over the river. But he didn’t get on.

Fast forward to yesterday morning. I got on the bus and a lady in front of me smelt like she took a bath in cologne. And not the good stuff…the old lady stuff that automatically sets off my allergies and I cough until I dug a cough drop out of my book bag. So I got as comfortable as I could get and the bus pulls off and we head toward Harvey where the guy got on yesterday. Alas, he didn’t get on at his stop so I figured his riding was just a one ride fluke. Maybe his car broke down and that’s why he had to ride the bus.

So we arrive at the terminal several minutes later and a lot of other people boarded. A guy sits next to me but I don’t see his face because mine is buried in a book. Then something catches my attention. Out of the corner of my right eye I see this long jet black hair. It’s him. I try not to seem too excited and just go on reading and listening to my MP3 player. The bus moves from the terminal and into traffic and then it hits me…a smell. Him. He stinks. Oh my gawd. He smells like he hasn’t had a bath and like he’s been drinking all night. Why me? He gets on his cell phone and I can smell his bad breath. Okay so now I really can’t breathe between him and the lady with the cologne. I try to discretely cover my nose, but that doesn’t work, so I try to shift my body to the left and pretend everything is okay. But there’s nothing I can do because there isn’t another empty seat and we’re about to cross the Mississippi River Bridge again. So I just had to bear it. Lucky for me he gets off at Poydras again.

When I get to work I tell my co-worker Tracee about my experience and she just laughs. I have to agree it was hilarious. At lunch I talked it over with another friend of mine and he says that not all countries have the same standards of bathing as we do in the United States. True, but ass is not in the another country, he’s in the US and sitting next to me on the bus. I have to admit, I set my standards way high when it comes to men, and let’s face it no one is going to come close to those three gorgeous Koreans I have lost my heart to (JYJ), but why put such a temptation in front of me? Believe it or not, I look for him on the way home but he doesn’t get on the bus.

I tried to find a rationale for my fascination with this guy and try to find excuses for his deplorable shape. I think maybe he works at night and he was just getting in and hadn’t have time to change. Or maybe he could be homeless, and I think it cost $2.00 to ride that bus and I’d seen him twice and if I was homeless I wouldn’t be wasting money on a bus.

The cougar in me still thought he was cute beneath all that stank. Maybe I could take him home and scrub him up, I reasoned. That’s what one of my heroines would do in a story. No, even I have my limits and I don’t pick up stray men or dogs on the street and I’m not about to start just because all that black silky hair has caught my attention. I’d probably have to delouse him too just to get to that hair. He has leading man potential, but I’m not willing to work that hard to uncover that diamond in the rough.

Funny thing happened last night. There was an article on the Internet about Micky and his younger brother. Someone asked the younger brother to talk about Micky’s bad points, and the first thing he said was that Micky liked to clean and would fuss at him for leaving a cup on the table. He said his brother was more feminine than he was and was interested in fashion. I started to laugh. Believe me little brother, it could be worse, he could not take a bath. I’d gladly swap stinky cutie, as I named the guy on the bus for his big brother, who by the way I still feel is husband material and the object of many of my dreams at night. If I’m going cast a hero, it would be him.

Imari Jade

Chilling

Flower Lady Song

Chilling

By

Imari Jade

I spent a splendidly wonderful day writing even though I’m suffering from a bad back ache and a wicked foot wound caused by an over-zealous young woman giving me a pedicure. Running on about three hours of sleep my eyes opened at seven and refused to close. “But its Sunday,” I protested.

“Get your lazy butt out of bed and get creative,” was their response.

So I rubbed down with Aspercreme, took two Tylenol and got dressed.

The first thing I did was turn on my computer. It struggled to life, which meant there was a problem but a few minutes later I was able to access Twitter. Micky Yoochun was chatting today, but it is Korean. Pooh. English baby. Mama needs English. Oh, well, I surfed, catching up on my J&K Pop friends and then meandered my way over to Facebook and friended a couple of folks and wished a few others Happy Birthday. Nothing exciting happening there, so I decided to do some editing on the five manuscripts I’m juggling at the moment. Then the computer froze.

After cursing it out for freezing right in the middle of something I was typing (and I hadn’t saved), I got myself out of the program and shut down the computer. It restarted slowly. The computer expert in me told me that it was a virus. Bingo, I found the little bugger once I ran the virus scan. I logged back in and had to retype what I was previously working on.

Somewhere after breakfast I decided to take out my CD player and my Pandigital Reader. Lately I’ve been overrun by electronics. My kids gave me the CD player two Christmases ago and this was the first time I took it out of the box. Normally I played my CDs in my DVD payer but lately it’s been acting up, probably because I shouldn’t be playing CDs in it. So after figuring out how to work it I slipped in my Beyonce CD and got empowered. Then I went back to work for a couple of hours.

The Pandigital E-reader was a different story. It has been in my possession a little over a week and so far it has not performed up to my expectation. Basically it’s a piece of garbage and it’s going back to Best Buy in a couple of days. It took four days to charge and it took two days for it to accept my Barnes and Noble password and login. And I still haven’t been able to download the Nook Book I ordered from Barnes and Noble earlier today. It is history if it doesn’t work tomorrow.

So right now I got DBSK blasting in the room while I’m waiting for the Grammys. It better be good this year or I might stop watching. I already know my boys JYJ won’t be there. They’re still in Korea probably freezing. They should be there accepting all the awards for their fabulous album. It would make my night to finally see them perform on television. Lately I’ve been going blind watching their performances on YouTube and other computer shows. It just doesn’t do my six-feet babies justice. Okay, I’m through salivating. I’m just waiting for the CD to end. Then it’s into the shower and I need to eat dinner before I relax for the evening. But first I need to check my email.

Someone joined me to their writers group and it’s been blowing up my mailbox all morning. I think I have then turned off of Facebook before Yahoo takes away my account, which will be bad since I’m waiting to hear from some publishers.

Just a friendly reminder, “Someone to be Thankful for” is being released tomorrow on audio book from Total Ebound.

http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1136

It’s a very good story and I’m not just saying it because I wrote it.

Ooh, DBSK is singing “Flower Lady.” I just love that song. Boy I can’t wait until they stop this silly dispute and get back together again. I hope they do it before I visit Korea. This would make the trip totally worth it. Well, surviving the twenty-five hour ride will also make it totally worth it. More later.

Imari Jade