Sunday, October 23, 2005

A new name and a sense of purpose

I sort of let this whole thing fall by the wayside, but now that I have even less time than before I figured it would be a great time to start this all up again. I suppose my real motivation is my renewed sense of purpose, and by that what I really mean is chronic anger at the world around me. While this might sound a tad bit mentally unbalanced, I assure you, my contempt is well founded and makes sense at this point in life.

What might have brought this on you might ask? Other than no longer being under the intoxicating stupor of a happy relationship, there are many factors to my anger. I will start things off right though, with something that has been getting to me quite a bit and a subject I can always expand on - Men. Not to sound cliche (although some things are cliche for a reason...) but gentlemen, a whole heck of a lot of you really suck. I am only telling you this for your own good - oh and for my own good too, that is, in the hopes that maybe if I tell you some of you will stop sucking quite so much and I can go back to pretending to be a happy, sunny, loving person.

Let me start things off nice and simple, the guys who hit on me while I am on public transit. I have often said that you couldn't pay me to own a car in Chicago: gas is expensive, parking is impossible and expensive, traffic sucks, etc. Well, everytime some middle aged man on the El asks me if I'm married I seriously consider taking out thousands of dollars worth of superflous student loans so I can get myself a car and throw away my UPass.

I was discussing this irksome phenomenon with my friend, and when I say friend what I really mean is an ex-boyfriend that I still talk to almost everyday (sounds like a post for later, huh?). His response: "You're cute, what do you expect." Yes, my dubious friend! what a great point - because of my relatively symmetrical face and general proportions I am considered attractive, which means it is open season for any asshole with a bus pass who wants to verbally harass me.

Is it really so wrong of me to want to be able to get from point A to point B in this city without having to listen to random strangers telling me I have beautiful eyes and then asking if I have a boyfriend? Don't get me wrong, I am not saying I get pissed off by compliments, I'm saying to general tone of anyone who strikes up a conversation by commenting on your appearance and then demanding your phone number is often a little discomforting. If you want to talk to me say something witty to show me you have a brain and care if I have one too. Also, growling or making animal noises at me does not help.

Also, you know that a guy only has the very worst intentions for you if, when you don't give him the response he wants, he starts loudly informing everyone in that train car in a loud and booming voice that he is, "Sick of skanky-ass bitchy white-girl cunts who think there too good for everybody". Is it asking too much to want to go a week without having to put up with that kind of attitude?

So what do I have to do? I have to sit there and smile and act shy around any smelly old man who tries to pick me up and quietly excuse myself as soon as I can and pray that this isn't going to be the crazy one that tries to follow me or might actually get physically violent. I have a few other defense mechanisms too...

If I know they haven't seen me respond to anything auditory and I know my cell phone is on silent mode and won't ring all of the sudden I will simply sign to them, "Sorry, Deaf." Sometimes I elaborate and tell them that I sign, I can't hear them, or I can't read lips very well. For this I have to be looking at them when they first start talking to me so they think I saw them speaking at me. Of course, if they're drunk it doesn't matter if they saw me talking on my cell phone 2 minutes ago, I can simply start signing at them and they will either leave me alone, or I can start ignoring them with a good excuse. This is just one of the many, many wonderful things about knowing ASL.

If I can't whip out my trusty sign language, I simply take on an alter-ego. Most often I am Amanda, a history major at DePaul University who is on her way to meet up with her live-in boyfriend who works as a bouncer at a night club. If you have met Amanda the history major, well, I am sorry - and also you are creepy and should know better.

I know someday I am going to encounter a situation which compels me to switch train cars, or even just wait for the next train. I almost did this last Friday night.

My latest plan is to get ridiculously fat. I will probably enjoy this a whole lot more than having to always be on guard. I will become fat and be able to get to where I am going in the city without having to field offers to become a "babymama". I will keep you posted on my progress, and later I will bitch about how much it sucks being fat.


Blogger EsotericWombat said...

You could also get a scar. like one that goes from your forehead down your cheek, over the eye. A lot cooler and less inconveniencing than folds of fat. Hell, I'd consider getting one if I didn't want to act. Guess it doesn't necessarily need to be real...

Normally I'd apologize on behalf of my gender, but recently I realized that doing so means that I have associated my name with a crock of assholes. Don't let the cretins bother you. Just imagine that they bleed a lot when they die.

nice post

8:38 PM  
Blogger Aerynn Marie said...

No need to apologize, you're not in Chicago right now so you don't count as a boy, remember?

A scar might be fun. I could certainly make up some interesting stories about it. Or I can just use my awesome stage makeup powers to give myself a nasty looking cold sore every day.

A cold soare a day keeps the perverts away - or at least the ones that don't have cold sores themselves.

Maybe I just need a t-shirt that says "I Have Super-AIDS"

10:02 PM  
Blogger EsotericWombat said...

or maybe, "Fuck off, I'm dying"

10:10 PM  
Blogger Indeterminacy said...

I just came by here to fall in love with some of Alice's friends.

oops. That may not be the best comment for this post. ;-)

6:25 AM  

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