Mexican Geordie: November 2014

Greetings, all!

It's been a while, hasn't it? Ah, well, you know, life back in the States, where, in the words of Sweet Brown, "ain't nobody got time fo that". Who has time to be writing nonsense? This blog doesn't pay the bills, unfortunately. But between avoiding pictures of Kim K's filthy rear and serving burgers to the people of Conroe, I mostly just use my free time to stress eat, obsess about the uncertain future, and watch Youtube videos.

Should you feel lucky, then, that I am spending my Friday night writing you instead of partying like there's no tomorrow? Yes, you should.

Why is this post called "Lovebugs", you ask? You might not be familiar with these lee-tle creatures, but let me tell you, they are not as loving as they sound. They are, in fact, the spawn of Satan, evil incarnate themselves. They are the fornicators of the insect world. They emerge in Texas by the millions in September and October and you can always find them multi-tasking (one of the tasks being procreation) on your car, your plants, your trees, your house, yourself. They spread their sticky love all over the place, ruining the lives of thousands of humans who have no garage to hide their cars.

Explicit image:

Gross

This is what I returned to. But why talk about lovebugs, you ask? Today I would like to address a part of my life that none of you ever ask me about, but I'm going to tell you anyway: my (nonexistent) love life. How does this connect to lovebugs? Don't be disturbed. I am not comparing myself to these bugs---errrr... hell no. But my prospects all seem to be very similar to lovebugs: they are yucky, icky, possibly sticky, and inconveniently disturb my life.

My first (and last) romantic experience in Durham was the night after I turned in my dissertation. Having been freed of the shackles of academic slavery, I decided to head to a party at Ustinov with a couple friends (who are, of course, dating #thethirdwheellife4eva ). I was breaking it down on the dance floor with moves like the sprinkler, when I noticed a guy dancing... in a rather unusual way... by himself. This guy was flapping his arms, rocking himself, and mumbling to himself as he stared blankly in front of him, so I naturally had to make fun of him. It was great, until he decided to head our way and made eye contact with me.

I love to dance like a fool, so I played along. He would try to get closer, and I would take a few step back. Suddenly, he turned around and attempted to twerk... yes... on me.

I backed off, but he kept coming closer, with his sad, bony behind. Then he would drop low and come back up, in the style of the beloved nail salon lady from Legally Blonde :

He was also slightly taller than me, which meant his butt sucker-punched me on the stomach at some point, leaving me breathless. Meanwhile, my friends were having the time of their lives watching me be abused by this very high individual. Things were getting a bit out of hand... so I decided to walk away discreetly while he twerked away.

We found some sofas to sit, and while Irene and I laughed about the incident, Andrew went to the vending machines to get some chips. Let's just say he took waaaaaaaaaay too long. The substance-abuser found me again. He saw me from far, far away and started walking my way. When he got to us, he demanded that I danced with him, which I refused. Seeing no other alternative, he proceeded to sit on top of poor, tiny Irene, covering her entirely.

"What are you doing?! Get up, get up, she's tiny! GET UP!"
"He he he he"
"GET OFF HER, MAN!!!!!"

He got up. Then sat on me. At least I am big enough for him to sit on my lap and not asphyxiate me. Irene was getting a kick out of it too, so I humored him and reached down for my phone to tell Irene to take a photo of the ridiculousness.

It all happened so quickly.

As I looked down to my left to find my phone in my purse, I had a sudden sensation of something moist (gosh, I hate that word) and sloppy on my right cheek. It took me a fraction of a second to realise that I was being licked in a dog-like fashion by this delusional man, who probably was aiming to french me but missed when I turned my head to look for my phone.

The rest is all a blur, but Irene says I punched him in the face. I wouldn't say punch, because my hand wasn't close up in a fist. I think it was more like shoving his face away from me with my freakish strength.

Like this:

Combined with this:

Irene was dying with laughter. This guy was also laughing. I was in a state of Code Red/"WTF just happened?!" I told him to go away. He did, only to come back later, when I gesticulated with my fists closed and ready. He finally went away a third time, never to come back.

So when my grandchildren (grandnieces and nephews, more than likely) ask me about my love life in Durham, this is the story they'll hear because that's basically the closest I got to fulfilling the dreams of dozens of people back home (my mum and aunts included) of finding Prince Charming in England.

I'm guessing you can see now the relationship between the lovebugs and such men. These types of people, like lovebugs, are EVERYWHERE.

In France, random men would stop me in the street to try to talk to me. This is not okay when a man is eyeing you up and down and willfully trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Ever since I returned to Texas, I've had to endure staring, insinuations, and incredibly awkward conversation from pushy men.

Sample one:

"All right, sir, you've got a burger and fries. Anything else for you?"
"Well, I'd like to have you, if I could."
"Umm, no." *nervous chuckle*
"Ah well, it was worth a try. You're a very pretty girl."

Well, there's a less sexually harassing way to give a compliment. Did I mention the man who told me this is probably my grandfather's age?

Sample two, conversation with my female coworker:

"Hey, my friend is saying his friend likes you and wants your phone number. Can I give it to him?"
"What?"
"Can I give my friend's friend your number?"
"Um... the guy who was just in here?"
"Yes."
"Um... no."

First of all, this guy couldn't be bothered to talk ONE word to me. Why do you want my phone number if you don't even know what my voice sounds like OR WHAT MY NAME IS? What name are you going to give me in your contacts... ho #23? Secondly, if you want my number, why not just ask for it instead of sending your friend to ask my friend for it? Is that too much damn work? Gosh, what in the actual hell is wrong with men?

Hey, assholes of the world: I CAN SEE HOW YOU ARE LOOKING AT ME, I AM NOT BLIND! I'm sure you wouldn't like it if someone talked to your daughter/sister/mum like that, eh? WELL THEN DON'T DO IT. And if you see a girl you'd be interested in, make an effort to talk to her, for Pete's sake.

I can't help but ranting. You know what's the worst of this all? The fact that men are this way because WE, WOMEN, have let them off the hook easily. We let them get away with this crap. We let them treat us like pieces of meat (see Kim Kardashian's ass all over the internet--or don't see it... please don't... that image will burn in the back of your head. You will be scarred for life), we don't demand to be wooed, we don't respect ourselves and therefore they don't respect us. They feel entitled to get what they want without working for it. For this being an age of "empowerment" for women, we seem to be in a really messed up situation. How in the world are we getting more respect??????????? The reason why women like me have to deal with these men is because some women have made it too easy for these men to get whatever they want and on their own terms. But that's just not going to cut it, dudes.

Okay, now that I've blown some steam, let me tell you of ONE encounter with a man that was not a as bad.

A couple of days after I returned to the US, my friend Iris and I went to our (crappy) local beach, just to lie on the sand like a couple of stranded dolphins on shore. Two men walked by us, but we paid little attention. When these two men were walking back (about an hour or so later), they stopped by to chat. Just like that. Nothing creepy, just good ole "oh, you guys seem to be having a great time relaxing, do you come here often?"

Granted, the one trying to talk to Iris was rather pushy, but this time I got the polite, charming one. They stayed for around 30 minutes. Wow, thirty minutes?! What could you possibly have said in thirty minutes?

I convinced my suitor that I was a secret agent. I am actually serious.

It all started when I asked where he was from and he said Kenya. I asked if he was from a village or a big city, and he replied the latter. So I said "Nairobi?" He was astonished. For someone in America to know not only that Africa is not a country but that Nairobi is the capital of Kenya, something must be up.

"How do you know this?"
"I know Geography well enough".
"But no one knows Africa. Unless you've been there? Ah! Are you a secret agent?"

He was joking, of course. But I wasn't.

"Well, if I were, I can't really tell you, can I?"

He became pale. His grin disappeared into a face of disbelief and fear. This was the perfect way for me to disguise my identity and not reveal much of myself to a man who I had just met and was clearly trying to hit on me. I didn't have to talk about my mysterious job (a.k.a. unemployment) and my intriguing life (being home doing nothing). And when he asked for my phone number, I could excuse myself by saying that I didn't have a number because I had just returned from Europe.

"OH, FROM EUROPE? HOW LONG WHERE YOU THERE?"
"About a year".
"ON A MISSION?!!?!?!!?!?"

"Well, here, take my name and phone number. Call me when you have a working phone. I would love to take you out to dinner."
"Okay, well, I'm going to run a background check first, just to be sure. Then I'll call you if everything comes out okay."

Guy gets super pale again.

"Oh, I'm clean, I swear. Just a couple traffic violations, but nothing major! I haven't done anything!!"
"Well, good. We'll see."

Mad props to the guy for being brave about his traffic violations (and for properly asking me out). It's not that hard, chaps! Try it sometime. It sure must be a lot more fulfilling to your male egos than when a woman makes it too easy for you to get her.

Anyway, rant over!

Monday, November 24, 2014

Vlogging!!

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Another video just for you!

Friday, November 14, 2014

Lovebugs

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

THE PREMIER OF THE NEW VIDEO!!!

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