Excerpts from a Diary

Home and Garden

So I live with a couple friends and an acquaintance. And as recent college graduates or soon-to-be graduates we all cohabitate out of necessity and small wallets. It was one of those rush decisions that in the light of the alternative looked like the best choice. Right now I would much rather take a razorblade to my eyelids.

Without even mentioning the fact that the acquaintance, the boyfriend of the friend that I live with is by far the laziest of all black men I have ever come across in all my days, the situation is quickly evolving into one of those epic dramas that I will still be explaining years from now to my deathrow prisonmates how I did not mean to kill him, my gluck just happened to go off in his direction.

I promised myself as long as we all lived under the same roof I would never find myself raising my voice or disrespecting anyone. But, I am at my end. There have been countless times when I just had to retire to my room to keep from attacking "lil Beatlejuice", although thoughts of murder have crossed my mind, my most frequent daydream of solace takes the centers around me bawling him out in the driveway.

I live with people, with the exception of my girlfriend, that just don't know how to use the damn bathroom. Nevermind we live in an age of indoor plumbing and hot water in the faucet, after they used the bathroom (by the way we have two and this is true for both) there is always little brown and black reminders of their frequent visits. Like a gunshot victim, our toilets are left "wasted", no pun intended. But toilet humor is not what the blog is about.

On night while driving back from an outing (that is a whole other entry) lil Beatlejuice decided that he would deliver a sermon from his pulpit in the driver's seat. As he sat forward clutching the steering wheel peering over his knuckles (they should really invest in cushions) he launched into this monologue.

"There are so many jokers out there that think that they are real men, I'll tell you what a real man is..."


"A real man should be able to provide for his family, aint that right baby?" Every once in a while he would break his long enough to reference his girlfriend in the passenger seat that gave the affirmative nod and "uh huh" to her man sitting beside her. "Even if he can't work, he should still be able to go out there and hustle to put food on the table", all I could think from my corner in the back seat (I was already sulking from the worst night of my life) was "What food? Whose table? When does he hustle? If this dusty-ass-no-job-having-30-something-year-old-wannabe-gangsta-still-calling-on-his-mama-lazy-good-for-nothing-ain't-no-style-having-tickle-dick-motherf***er woooooooowwww!" I closed my eyes in the dark in the backseat and called on Jesus to take me then, and his girlfriend, "Yeah baby!" I would have slapped them both if it weren't for the fact that I did not have a ride home and it was 3 o'clock in the morning. Even I can prioritize.

But his monologue of biblical proportion and self proclaimation was not the end of his multitude of sins. I have had countless, and to my credit more valid reasons for wanting to bitch slap him. But for now I just lay in wait of "lil Beatlejuice" and his fan club in the master bedroom.

posted by Onika @ 2:30 AM