You need to chill the eff out.

Some people (ahem...you know who you are) need to calm down and realize that I have other things to do other than write on this blog...

On that note... I have a story of some other people who needed to chill eff out. This tale happened when I was a wee girl of only 10 years old. And thus begins the development of my street cred.

My next door neighbor's daughter came and stayed with him every other weekend. She and I would hang out on those weekends. And while she was 4 years older than me, for some reason everyone still thought this seemed like a good idea. And while, in retrospect, it is SO clear that she was a gang member, everyone still thought this seemed like a good idea. And while her life was a TOTAL train wreck, everyone STILL thought this seemed like a good idea. I would like to point out that this was a horrible idea...

One weekend my "friend" had her friend (also known as her fellow gang member) come stay at her dad's with her. We were dropped off at the Super Savor Cinema in Rossmoor...maybe it is in Seal Beach... I am not sure... this detail is not relevant. It is relevant to say that it was in no way considered a "bad part of town" or what I frequently refer to as "ghetto". We were going to see Curly Sue. We arrived too late for the current showing and decided we would go to the next one. To kill time we headed on over to Thrifty for some ice cream. While waiting in line, a group of girls walked by us and bumped the shoulder of my friend's friend. Her response was, obviously, "Watch it bitch." This was accompanied by some serious mad dogging.

I don't think that I even got any damn ice cream because the next thing I remember is that these girls are in our faces demanding to know where we are from. The 2 girls I was with are saying really classy things like, "It's none of your f*cking business." I could feel the situation escalating and had no idea what to do. The strangers then started demanding to know how old we were. Now, I knew that I was much younger than all parties involved. But I also knew that i did not LOOK much younger than them. When I was 10 I was often mistaken for much older. So while the tough girls refused to answer any questions, I said very firmly and loudly, "I am ten. I am TEN years old." I am sure that the message I conveyed with my tone was, "I am only 10 years old, please do not kick my ass." Because that is what I was feeling.

Some of the details are hazy... but I do know that there were more of them than us. (Especially when we all know I was not even part of that "us".) I also remember the moment that it was decided that shit was about to get real. Two chicks, the shoulder bumper and the shoulder bumpee, were about to brawl it out. The agreed upon instructions were that it was between these 2 girls and no one else was going to jump in. Gotta have rules...even on the streets...

The obvious place for 2 teenage girls to fight is in the middle of a parking lot where cars are trying to drive. The obvious thing for girls to do when fighting is always to pull each other's clothes off. So here are 2 teen girls, scratching and slapping one another in a full out stereotypical cat fight. Cars flashing their lights and honking at them. My friend's home girl must have been losing, because my friend decided she needed to jump in there. She turned to me and said, "Hold my purse." I declined. She shoved her purse into my chest and said, "Hold my purse!" I declined again. She yelled, "BITCH!" This is when I decided to bail.

I am not quite sure why it took me so long to decide to leave. But I guess when your "friend" calls you a bitch because you don't want to help her beat the shit out of some people, this is when it is kosher to get the hell out. I went and found a pay phone and called the parentals. As I hung up the phone with my pa, I saw the group of stranger girls rounding the corner and coming towards me. I just sat right where I was as they approached me. I don't remember feeling scared or anything. I just remember thinking that I wasn't moving from that spot until my parents came.

This group of girls, who obviously won the fight, apologized to me. They told me that they were really sorry that I witnessed the whole scene. They told me that they felt bad that I had any part of it. They asked if they could wait there with me until my parents came and picked me up. WHAT?!?! But that is exactly what they did. As soon as I commented that I could see my parents car, they took off.

Later that evening, the "friend" knocked on my door. She apologized to me with the most insincere apology I have ever heard (and I worked Juvenile Justice Services, so this is quite the honor.) She gave my parents a similar apology. And then...I never saw her again... It was like she never existed and none of it ever happened. It wasn't talked about. She wasn't talked about. It was just over.

Now that I have developed more street cred... I totes understand that, "Damn it feels good to be a gangsta."

(WARNING: there are some "F-words" in this soundtrack...

so don't watch it you don't want to hear.)

The creepers are copious.

It was about 11pm and I was at home, getting ready for bed. I heard my cell phone ring. I looked to see who was calling. It was not any of my contacts, but a phone number with a California area code. I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi...is [name I cannot remember] there?"

"No, I am sorry. You have the wrong number."

"I do? Wait... what number did I call? 435!? Where am I calling?"

"Utah."

"Hahahaha. That is so random that I have called Utah. I am in San Francisco. What time is it there?"

"It's 11."

"Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I called Utah. What are you doing answering random phone calls so late at night?"

"I know plenty of people in California. Having a call right now from a Cali number is not uncommon."

"I live in San Francisco... and there are so many freaks here. Are there freaks there?"

"Uh... hahaha... yes... I imagine there are freaks everywhere. Anywhere you go you can find all kinds."

"I guess that is true. But I think San Francisco must have more than other places."

"Maybe, I have only been there once. But it was a good time."

"Would people call you a freak?"

"Hahaha. Doubtful."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I guess..."

"Has anyone ever asked you to have a threesome?"

"Hahahaha. No, I cannot say that it has ever come up."

"Would you be open to having a threesome with myself and another guy?"

"Wow. No thank you."

That's right... it started out as a wrong number and escalated into what could have been an epic sexual escapade. Talking to strangers, as it turns out, is an excellent idea. It makes for a good story... and we all know that I like a good story.

(This was not my first dirty phone call, but it is the one I chose to write about first. I am hazy on the details of the first one... I am may need some sort of hypnotherapy session to help bring it to light.)

Friends are considerate.

My birthday was amazing. I had more fun than should be allowed. I do not feel like I am exaggerating when I use the word EPIC to describe it. I received fabulous happy birthday wishes in person, over the phone, on Facebook, email, Skype, and texts. Here was my favorite birthday text...

"All day long I will be thinking of you and singing "I'm gonna party like its your birthday." I will let your lover think of you and sing "birthday sex" all day long"

Such an awful song...but it WAS my birthday, and I DID want to ride out...

Get out of my head, Jeremiah.

A creep magnet.

It has recently occurred to me (or been pointed out to me) that I am a magnet for creepy people. Some may think this should freak me out. That I should be worried. Some may beg me to change my phone number and to buy mace. But in reality, it amuses me to a tremendous degree. I have so many creeptastic stories that I will tell over time. Seriously amazing. I know stuff like this has to happen to other people. It can't just be me...

I will start with the most recent creep contact.

(this seemed like the best picture for the topic at hand)

On both Skype and Facebook, I frequently get random friend requests and messages. I am not really into being friends with people that I do not know. I don't like thinking about strangers having so much information about me. It kind of weirds me out (and here I am posting all this random shit on an open blog... it makes sense to me, so back off.)

I rarely get a friend request from a stranger that is not accompanied by a message. For the most part the message is short and sweet, straight to the point.

"Hey you seem interesting, I would like to get to know you."

"I was looking at your profile and thought you seemed worth talking to."

"I would love to get to know you. Add me as a friend if you feel the same way."

But the other day, I got a message that blew all other messages out of the water. And here it is for your viewing pleasure. (I cleaned up his punctuation a bit.)

(sent at 11:51pm)

Hello how are you doing and how was your day? I am [name of creeper] by name. I'm new to this, my dear. I have gone through your profile and it moves me to write you. I am a single man 53 years of age, widow before 1 kid. I am generally an optimistic person with a sense of humor, fairly easy going. I do not club and I do not drink or smoke. Looking for a special someone, that I could love with all my heart, body, and soul. I love to find experiences and to share them with someone who is serious about finding the right man. If you are seeking for the same...write me here [email address] and get to know each other. I wish you all the best in your endeavors.

I'll be waiting for you reply soon.

Hugs and Kisses

[name of creeper]

This is weird, right? Other people have to be getting similar messages, right? It cannot just be me, right? But awesome, right?