Sunday, October 18, 2009

TNB: "I know you was wit my husband"

It's 63 degrees this morning. Sixty-fucking-three! In South Florida, and in the middle of October. It's unheard of, especially since yesterday it was in the high 80s. Time to pull out my one and only hoodie, I suppose.

The other night, I was walking through the neighborhood to the store to buy a box of disposable diapers for Jazzie (we use one disposable per day, all the rest cloth, so a box of 64 will last me until damnear Christmas) and there was a car parked blocking the sidewalk. I didn't want to stomp all over somebody's grass, so instead I walked down the driveway onto the street so I could get by. As I started walking my same path, a car pulled up behind me and stopped. I glanced back to make sure it wasn't a cop, saw a regular silver car with a woman sitting in it, and turned back around to walk but the silver car pulls up in front of me, blocking my way. The window goes down to reveal a large, ugly African-American woman, who looked very angry.

"What were you doing in mah house?" she demands to know.

Oh great, I thought. Now I gotta deal with some TNB.

"What house?" I asked, knowing full well that I hadn't been in anybody's place but my own.

"I seen you leavin' mah house, you walked right out the do', is mah husband home? Did he tell you dat he married?"

Yep, I thought, TNB for fucking sure.

"I wasn't in anybody's house, I'm just going to the store to buy diapers." I responded.

"Bitch, I seen you leave mah house, I know you was wit my husband, walk over dere and see if mah husband is home."

"Why the fuck should I? I didn't do shit," I responded, getting angrier at these baseless accusations. "I'm outta here."

"Get back over here white girl!" she yells, and then lunges at me. She grabbed my hair and pulled hard. I was hot, but at the same time slightly amused at the fact that instead of fighting, we were clearly going to be bitch-fighting. I pushed her away, and she slapped me in the jaw and ear. I was really pissed at this point, so I started running my mouth.

"I don't know your husband, but if I were him I'd be fucking anybody who wasn't your ugly ass," I yelled. Or something along those lines. Then she punched me in the mouth. I punched her in the throat and she steps back for a second, growls "whore" and comes at me again. This time I got her first, punching in the ribs. I was aiming for the solar plexus but missed, and my hand struck pretty harmlessly in her chest, and she went for the bitch-slap to the side of the face again.

"Stupid nigger!" I yelled, throwing another punch to the solar plexus but actually hitting the mark this time. She had a hold of my hair but I pulled away as she tried to regain her wind. We were both rushing towards each other again when about 7-8 kids came running out of the house (you know, the house that I was having the alleged clandestine meeting with her husband) to break us up.

"What's goin' on?" yelled one of the kids.

"That crazy bitch was in mah house, she was wit mah man!" the ugly woman screamed.

"You were in our house? How?" asked another kid, a boy maybe 11 or 12 years old. My guess is that the cherished husband was hanging out in the main room with all these kids during our supposed tryst.

"I wasn't in anybody's fucking house, this dumb whore attacked me, apparently her husband likes little white girls, that's not my fucking fault," I responded angrily.

"Just go," said the oldest kid, who looked about 16. So, I went.

Looking back, I don't know which is more disgusting: the fact that that ugly groid was married or the idea of *shudder* banging the man that would marry that. Gross. So yeah, I can't walk down my own street without getting falsely accused and assaulted by some crazy black women who (for SOME reason) can't hold onto her man so she projects her ugly hatefulness onto any chick who looks better than her (and I'm not being egotistical either, a monkey's red ass looks better than her).

And people wonder why I'm racist?