SarcasticBlack

Today while on my lunch break, I thought it would be fun to poke through my Facebook posts and choose some of funny things I have blathered about and turn them into bloggings. Not only will this be great during times of writer’s block (when I’m lazy), but it will also show the difficult, and ofttimes funny, situations I find myself in. So, here are Sticky Wickets.


7 o’clock finally rolled around and I was slouching outside my place of work, enjoying my last break for the night. A Hispanic man walked out of the store, to whom I said, “Good night.” He didn’t reply. He glanced in my direction and continued walking, which I deemed rather rude of him until I thought of the possibility that he may not speak much, if any, English. I decided to see if he would reply to Spanish, so I tried, “Buenos noches.” With these words, he puppy-stumbled over to me and began babbling on and on and on. In Spanish. I speak comparatively as much of his language as he speaks of mine, and thus, I didn’t understand a fucking word he said. By the time the second-hand on my watch drifted from Simba’s left ear to the middle of his cheek, he finally shut up. He stood there. Breathing heavily with smiling eyes, eagerly awaiting my reply. I could only think of one thing to say: ”Que?”


The other day, I was shaving my eyebrows with a Wahl trimmer. I thought it a good idea at the time, and for the most part, it did a groovy job. After buzzing the girly peach fuzz from my cheeks and ridding myself of the sideburns that women are not supposed to have, I cleaned up my left eyebrow and advanced to my right. I didn’t realise it then, but Zoey, my cat, crouched betwixt the toilet and shower and I didn’t see the shifting of his shoulders as he readied for a pounce. I only noticed his presence when he hugged my leg with his teeth and let out a screech like one of those screaming frog videos on YouTube. This ended with my being so startled that I buzzed the middle of my right eyebrow clean off. I blame you, cat.


Recently, I visited the salon to get a trim while I was feeling a wee bit down on myself and going through a phase of recurrent self-image issues. I asked my stylist if I had a cone-shaped head. She examined my scalp from many angles and replied, “Well, at least it goes great with your haircut.” Fantastic. I’m a conehead.


A bubbly customer waited in my line, and before long, I rang her up and we began a short conversation. Within a few minutes, I learned she had recently got off work and was shopping before retiring for the evening. I asked her about her employment, to which I learned she worked in a long-term care nursing facility. I replied, “My mother was in one of those recently.” With a remorseful look in her eyes, she said, “I am sorry to hear that. I hope she got out.” I said, “She did.” The customer smiled and said she was happy to hear that my mum was fortunate enough to leave such a place, to which I nodded and said, “Yep. She died.”


Sticky wickets.