So. I'm standing in line yesterday at Rite Aid.
The line is obnoxiously long... rare for the middle of the day... and there was a gentleman standing behind me who decided to pass the time by striking up a conversation... with me. (I'm always the lucky one...)
The guy is maybe... mid sixties. Grey. Kinda balding. He looks like a pretty regular guy though. Nothing particularly special about him... but nothing telling me to dig my earbuds out of my purse and act like I can't hear him, either.
He's holding a receipt and an unopened box of Odor Eaters, those things you put in your shoes to absorb foot odor.
"All I need to do is make a return," he starts. "At this rate, the refund deadline will come and go before I make it to the register."
I laugh politely. The line is long... but that joke was wack tho.
"I bought these things a couple days ago," he continues holding up the Odor Eaters, "because for the life of me I could not figure out why my feet smelled so bad. I'm a pretty clean guy, you know? But no matter how many showers I took, the smell just would not go away."
At this point, the alarm is going off in my head. Boy, did I misread this one. I immediately go fishing in my purse for those damn earbuds.
"Who knew," he said, "that you had to actually wash between your toes with your rag to get your feet clean real good? You would think all the soapy water running down your body when you rinse would be enough, but no! You actually gotta scrub them. I wish I'd gone to see the doctor BEFORE I spent all this money on these things."
I'm kinda... stuck at this point. One, I'm appalled at this man's complete willingness to share this much personal information with a stranger. Two, I'm sad that this man has lived his whole ass life never washing between his funky ass toes. Can you imagine? Sixty some odd years of shower dirt runoff and sadness all jammed between his toes, causing funk so bad this man had to see a doctor about it...
...only to be told to wash between his toes... and then have the courage to tell me, a complete stranger, about his dirty ass feet and his complete unintelligence in this area of grooming.
He's staring at me, waiting for a response. Meanwhile, my face looks like this:
Luckily, at that moment, the register becomes available, and I have never been so eager to spend money on shit I don't actually need in my entire life.
He and I finished our transactions around the same time (my lucky streak continues. yay.), so being the gentleman that he was, he held the door open for me as we walked to our cars. As I reached my truck, he says, "So, you think I could take you out sometime? Or..."
Before I finish the story, I have something to say.
LISTEN TO ME.
The Innanets have convinced us that people give a shit about the intimate details of our lives, and so we have become a culture of overshare. Some of you post pictures when you travel, when you go out, when noteworthy things happen in your lives, when you look goof af and think Instagram needs to see your 'fit... and I love that. Social media is a place where you share the parts of you that are dope. The parts that are interesting or honest or uplifting.
Some of you, however, share too much.
You give us all the intimate details of the stuff we have no business knowing. Social media sites are public platforms, but please, use discretion and common sense. Facebook is not the place where you share the discomfort of your constipation, beloved. Ask for prayer and keep it pushing, Literally... and figuratively...
We love seeing the pictures of you and Lil Ricky when times are good, but baby listen. You and Lil Ricky are fighting... again.... and you're just gonna take him back... like you did the last 12 times. Stop sharing that shit. We are tired for you. Love him. Leave him. We don't care at this point. Just please, shut up about it.
Just take a second and consider what is for the internet, and what is better shared within the confines of your group chat, in the pages of your journal, or whispered only when you have a little talk with Jesus. Social media is not the place for your overshare. Know why?
Because you get so used to oversharing on social media that you start doing it out loud in real life. And then you're the balding gentleman in the Rite Aid line talking about your foot odor and how your dumb ass never thought to floss some soap and water between your toes with intention every now and then.
I blame social media for the lack of tact people have developed in sharing the way-too-personal details of their private lives with the world. Some people do it for attention. Others, for validation. This culture of overshare is amazing. This man really thought that, of all the things he could've said to me, that was the thing he thought I should know.
Don't be this guy. Exercise discretion when you share out loud or online. Have some boundaries. Leave some things to the imagination (or to my nightmares, you old stinky foot ass man).
Back to my story. About his proposition--
Turns out he is also not interested in being my sugar daddy. Oh, well. You miss 100% of the shots you never take.
So, ladies and gentlemen, what did we learn today?
Some things are better left unsaid, folks. They should also be untyped, unTweeted, unFacebooked, and unInstagrammed. Untexted. Some stuff you should only say when you pray... silently.
Jesus cares for you so much that he died for you. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about your smelly feet. Tell Jesus. Tell your mama. Just. Don't. Tell. ME.
Because EYE don't care.
I should've just dug up my nose.
“In fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.” I still remember saying this, in unison with my classmates, in 2nd grade social studies. We were learning about how Christopher Columbus was a hero because he discovered America. I listened, wide-eyed and interested, at stories about how Columbus and his brave men fought the angry seas to discover what would one day become the land of the free and the home of— listen… I can’t even bring myself to type that shit… but you get the point.
Lemme tell the story the right way, though:
What really happened is that Columbus and his band of merry men got lost at sea. They happened upon the Americas and mistook one continent for a completely different one. Not only did Columbus have a bad sense of direction, he was an idiot. Just… not smart at all. And we have to assume that, as the Captain, he was one of the smarter men on the vessel. Already this voyage is about to be some bullshit.
They got here and found natives thriving. These people had villages and communities, languages, systems of government and agriculture, schools, and religion. They lived off the land, raised their families, and minded their business, and all was well for them before Columbus and his goof troop found them.
You’d think they would be respectful of what they found already well-established when they got here, right? I’m assuming his mother didn’t teach him to leave things better than she found them, which means she was an idiot, also. Poor dummy never had a chance. But let me continue.
The first day he encountered the natives (Oct. 12, 1492), this asshole wrote in his journal that the “savages” would make good servants. He took 6 of them back to Spain with him and paraded them through the streets as if their existence was somehow something he accomplished and deserved recognition for.
I think this was the beginning of white privilege. He stole shit that wasn’t his and demanded that people celebrate him for it. And people have been doing it ever since. (I'm looking at you, Justin Timberlake.)
One day, Columbus tried to humiliate the Taino into being subservient. When his attempts failed, and his little feelings were hurt, he responded by killing all 1.1 million of them… all because his ego was bruised. He extinguished an entire group of people for refusing to submit to him.
The story gets worse, as most horror stories starring white men do.
Columbus and the dummy crew enslaved thousands of natives and exported them to Europe as, in his words, “beasts of burden.” The ones who weren’t lucky enough to be sold were used for the sexual gratification of Columbus and his crew.
He would go on to spend the rest of his life promoting slavery. He and his soldiers killed and enslaved with impunity every time they arrived in a different place. They raped, tortured, and killed the natives, using 20 attack dogs and sneaking into villages at night, killing thousands of people at a time. Everything they wanted, they took. People, riches, land… Everything. And the people who were not captured or killed were so desperate to escape Spanish rule that they committed mass suicides and infanticide.
Despite what my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Britt, taught me, Columbus’s most significant contribution to history was not his sailing the ocean or discovering America. In fact, he didn’t discover anything at all.
Columbus took the first slaves from the Americas and sent them to countries in Europe. Eventually, people would expand on his blueprint.
What Columbus DID do was create the trans-Atlantic slave trade, which was four centuries of white people stealing brown people from where they live and thrive and forcing them to be beasts of burden… for no reason other than because some pale-skinned idiots made the decision that they were somehow superior than everyone else.
It is estimated that between 25 and 30 million people were deported from their homes and sold as slaves.
But this man has a national holiday in his honor?
And lemme do you one better:
Christopher Columbus was a liar. He rewrote history to reflect accomplishments that were not his to claim. He took credit for things he never did. He destroyed the lives of people who he deemed himself better than. He built his riches on the backs of brown people who thrived before he got to them. He sexually assaulted women. His decisions set actions in motion that would negatively impact lives for many generations. He was a white man consumed by white privilege that is honored as a hero by other white people for doing absolutely nothing except being a liar and an idiot and a rapist and a bigot and an all-around piece of shit.
Now… watch this.
Donald Trump is a liar. He rewrites history to reflect accomplishments that are not his to claim. He takes credit for things he never did. He destroys the lives of people who he deems himself better than. He’s building his legacy on the back of the black man (and far superior President) that served before him. He sexually assaulted women. His decisions set actions in motion that would negatively impact lives for many generations. He is a white man consumed by white privilege that is honored as a hero by other white people for doing absolutely nothing except being a liar and an idiot and a rapist and a bigot and an all-around piece of shit.
Columbus Day is some bullshit because it serves as a reminder that absolutely nothing has changed in this country. In 1937, Columbus Day was made a federal holiday because Americans felt this man should be honored. In 2016, Americans elected a man exactly like Christopher Columbus President of the United States.
Enjoy your day off, beloved. Kick it. Take them babies to daycare and flourish. But don’t fall for the bullshit. Christopher Columbus was no hero.
The only Christopher I acknowledge is Wallace…
…and if you don’t know, now you know.
Today was a lot.
I adulted at levels beyond what I thought possible today, so at the end of a very long day of errands and obligation I made my way into the liquor store for a much-deserved bottle of wine.
I'm walking out the store and this man, who is sitting in front of the store in a car with another man, decides to have a conversation with me that ended much differently than I'm sure he thought it would.
Old guy: Heeeeeeey girl.
(mind you, I'm tired at this point, but I try not to ever be rude--)
Me: Hi. (I'm responding, but I'm still walking)
Him: You married?
(well. way to get straight to the point.)
Him: You want a husband?
(as I'm thinking to myself, IF I did, sir, you would NOT be my choice)
Him: You want a friend?
Me: No. (and then I pause in the middle of the street, turn around to face him, and say) But I am in the market for a sugar daddy, though. What's good?
(I'm standing in the middle of the street, holding my bottles of wine-- because today was real enough for two bottles-- waiting for him to respond)
Him: *grumbles something under his breath and rolls his car window up*
Works every time. Tell folks they gotta pay to play and you'll be astounded at how fast they lose interest.
That's how you flip it on a dirty old man. Try to hit up his pockets and he will change his mind... quick.
If that doesn't work, just dig up your nose.
I write because a lot of what I have to say is too crass and inappropriate for me to say out loud.