Monday, June 28, 2010

Poorly Thought Out Musing on Race and Sex. And Crossword Puzzles.

Over the years, our tightly knit readership has grown to learn much about each other, through blog postings, comments, party stories and other means. As some of you may have learned from my comments, I commute to work in New York on dilapidated New Jersey Transit trains. While the commute is arduous, crowded, noisy and often foul-smelling, I have my rare moment of Zen every Friday afternoon. For on my Friday commute home, I become a train beer guy. I allow myself a 24 oz. can of beer to sip on while I head to the chaos that is a home with two children under 3. I used to drink Foster's oil cans, but I've been enjoying Heinekens of late, with an occasional Corona mixed in when I feel extra tropical in Penn Station. When I board my train and find my seat, I have my headphones on, a large beer in one hand and the Friday Wall Street Journal crossword in the other. For 45 minutes, I am king of my one-seat palace. I don't answer e-mails on my BlackBerry, I don't pick up cell phone calls and I don't talk to anybody. It is me, music, beer and 30 Across, a 1973 Rolling Stones hit that is five letters. Angie. Duh. You gotta do better than that, puzzle creators.

Each of these components to my commute home serves a purpose. The music piping through my headphones drowns out yappy passengers (to some extent). The beer makes me feel like the guys on the roof with Andy in Shawshank. And the crossword mentally occupies me. Whenever I lose an element in this combination, I become extremely agitated.

Which brings me to my commute home last Friday. With my boss traveling, I made the executive decision to leave the office at noon, take a train towards the beach and get scooped up the missus on the way to the Jersey Shore. I am generally apprehensive of off-peak trains because they tend to get filled with a detestable lot of societal detritus that errs on the side of screaming into their cell phones at loud decibels. So, naturally, my commute gets immediately ruined by a large African-American man who sits in front of me and starts loudly humming along with the R&B blaring from his headphones. As my ire starts to build, he gets a call and starts talking. To a lady. And it gets dirty. And loud. Quickly. And then it gets even dirtier. And it becomes the greatest sex talk I have ever intentionally eavesdropped on. It made me re-think a lot. I wanted to be single again. I wanted to be African American, to be able to repeat the things he said with a straight face to a woman I intended to bed.

I immediately started listening closely to what he said, scribbling the highlights in the margins of page W3 of my copy of the Journal. I couldn't keep up with all the highlights, but I got a lot from this man. To call him a 20-minute mentor is an understatement. A foul-mouthed Svengali is more accurate. Let's just say that I earned a PhD in booty talk in the time it took us to travel from New York Penn Station to Rahway, where he departed.

To give some context, he looked like the intersection of Craig Robinson, Jonathan Ogden and Isaac Hayes. A svelte man he was not. But he had the loquaciousness to offset the heft. And did his gift of gab ever offset his wealth of flab. The highlights from his conversation are below. I strongly urge you all to use these lines when talking to wives, girlfriends, single ladies and/or anonymous men you encounter in Port Authority bathroom stalls. I am ashamed I did not capture more pearls of wisdom. If only my note-jotting hand could keep up with his filthy fantasies.

Chapter 1: Background
"I been through some shit. I tell you that."

"Right now? I'm about to get my calisthenics on all weekend. Yeah, for real."


Chapter 2: Dirty Cell Phone Pictures
"I been sending you shit, but you ain't given me nothing."

"You gotta show me the twins."


Chapter 3: What I Will Do To You And You Will Do To Me
"I"m gonna take my time. Break it slowly."

"You gotta work it. Nurture it."


"From the tip of my hand to the bottom of palm. That's my size. Ain't nothing to be scared of."

"I'm 9 inches. Or 8 and a half. I'm not standard. And it's straight. Ain't got no curve or nothing."


"Like I said, I'm a gentle giant. Ain't into that snatch and grab shit. I take it easy."


"Tell those bitches right now. This nigga don't share. I'm stingy."


"I just want you to sit on it. I wanna have fun, feel the walls."


"I'm a professional. I take my time. Ain't gonna hurt nobody."

"I treat that pussy good. It's like a little kid. You gotta pamper it. Spoil it."


"I'll do it every day. Shit that's what it's for. No doubt."

27 comments:

zman said...

That's weird, some guy called me last Friday afternoon and said all the same things.

d-train said...

"note jotting"....right....
i bet that paper bag came in extra handy

T.J. said...

I'm confused...did I just walk into a skit from Chappelle's Show?

T.J. said...

Hold the phone...Isaac Hayes has sex one way, and one way only...

As the Duke:
They sent in their best woman, and when we roll across the 59th Street bridge tomorrow, on our way to freedom, we're going to have their best woman leading the way - from the waist down!

Igor said...

Vince Neil was arrested for a DUI. On the plus side, he didn't kill a dude this time.

"Motley Crue frontman Vince Neil was arrested for suspicion of DUI early Monday morning in Las Vegas, authorities confirm.

The rocker, 49, was taken into custody at Clark County Detention Center where he was booked.


Wouldn't we all like to be referred to as "the rocker"? (At least in a Vince Neil way, not a Leo Mazzone/Rain Man way.)

Igor said...

And no, I don't care about staying on point in the comments, Mr. Truck.

I happen to enjoy the Potpourri-style mish-mash that our Comments section sometimes becomes. If Rob wants to come bitch about the Red Sox, if TR wants to keep us scatalogically informed of his day's events, if KQ wants to talk about the details of her bikini line waxing, I'll not censor their outpourings. Freedom, baby. USA.

rob said...

the red sox are crippled right now, i tell ya. they'll be lucky to field a team this week.

Dave said...

that post took me to such an excellent place with train beers-- i'll be imbibing tomorrow on my way to the ironbound for spain portugal. last time i got a giant bottle of magic hat #9.

and then the piece went to 11. or at least 9. awesome.

Lumpy said...

brutal weekend in SF. I blame zman for proclaiming the sox collapse over.

on the plus side, maybe i'll get some rehab starts in salem...

Igor said...

The on-hold muzak for the IRS's help line is (vaguely, but clearly to me) ripping off Billy Idol's "Eyes Without a Face." I find this to be perfect for the IRS.

zman said...

It would have made more sense to write about Bret Michaels instead of Vince Neil whilst commenting on a post that could be subtitled "talk dirty to me" but far be it from me to demand commonalities twixt the post and the comments.

And the Sox still have the second-most wins of any team in baseball. They won 27 of their last 38 games. And 2 of the last 6 WS. You have nothing to grouse about.

mayhugh said...

Teej - are you ready for some good news? One of the movie channels (Cinemax is the likely culprit) has put "Side Out" back into the rotation. I feel like it's 1990 all over again. And after catching it this morning, I must say I don't remember that movie ALSO having a volleyball scene where Loggins' "Playing with the Boys" was used. Was that song specifically made for volleyball montages? I've honestly never paid much attention to the lyrics.

Geoff said...

Millions of people willingly voted for this dude...

•"Maybe a black Albert Einstein" -- ex-IL Gov. Rod Blagojevich (D), "brainstorming" who should fill the IL SEN seat, including names like Oprah Winfrey and CA Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger (R) ("The Blago Blog").

T.J. said...

Someone get Slats on the line stat...that is his movie.

And I had no idea "Playing with the Boys" was such a floozy and did two montages. Hussy.

zman said...

Effing Roddick.

zman said...

I just realized that that's Jesse Jackson in a dashiki (behind Isaac Hayes in a chainlink vest and pink lycra pants).

d-train said...

good eye z....theories on his presence? anyone?

Igor said...

It's from the 1972 festival concert (and the 1973 documentary film of it) Wattstax:

"The concert was held at the Los Angeles Coliseum on August 20, 1972, and organized by Memphis's Stax Records to commemorate the seventh anniversary of the Watts riots. Wattstax was seen by some as 'the Afro-American answer to Woodstock.' To enable as many members of the black community in L.A. to attend as possible, tickets were sold for only $1.00 each. The Reverend Jesse Jackson gave the invocation, which included his 'I Am - Somebody' poem, which was recited in a call and response with the assembled stadium crowd. In the film, interspersed between songs are interviews with Richard Pryor, Ted Lange and others who discuss the black experience in America."

Igor said...

Yes, that Ted Lange.

Marls said...

Did Jessie do a reading of Green Eggs and Ham?

zman said...

Yes, with the Bar-Kays providing musical accompaniment.

Greg said...

Soul finger?

Dave said...

i should have done call and response in my commencement speech . . .

i have a . . .

crotch!

i have a . . .

groin!

i don't want to be . . .

castrated!

rob said...

i've tried to like rob dibble, i really have. i'm told he's 'refreshing' in his 'honesty' and 'authenticity'. he's also the living emblem for the world's meathead douchebags. i can't listen any longer.

rob said...

nationals are playing some angry defense of late

rob said...

god damn the nats play some stupid baseball

rob said...

underrated entertainment value in 'victory': stallone speaking french