Men ... can be (kind of) nasty ... a reprise

So I was listing a lot of ways men can be nasty in my other post and I regret to say that I neglected to mention one:

BLOWING YOUR NOSE IN THE STREET!!!!!

No, I don't mean toilet paper in hand and utilizing it as a receptacle for all that spews forth from your nostrils. (that sounded terribly disgusting, didn't it?) I mean the man my roomie and I saw last week while we were walking down the street. He took his right pointer finger, placed it on his right nostril and blew disgusting, comet-like projectiles from his left. Mortified might not be the MOST accurate of adjectives to describe my feelings on the situation, but I'm sure you get the gist.

To add insult to injury, I was waiting for the bus the other day and there was this older African American "gentlemen." (I say older because he had gray hair and had a slight hunchback - you know, old. I say gentlemen because he was dressed with a suit and tie.) Well, Mr OldManPants was standing at the busstop with a younger lady (perhaps she was his sugarbaby, I don't know - but I digress) and she turned around to continue the conversation with an older caucasian fellow and then it happened. Mr OldManPants turned around (mind you I'm still walking toward the bus stop) and places his right pointer finger to his right nostril and (well, you know the rest). But THEN he took his left hand and wiped it across his nose and lip (can't walk around with a snotty lip, right?) and to ensure nothing was left, he took his right hand and repeated this step. *sorry, almost vomited at the thought resurfacing in my mind, let me try to continue* He then decided he hadn't done enough to defile his character nor had he shocked me completely. Just when I thought it was all over, he put his hands behind his back and wiped them on the fence behind him. I guess he realized that it wasn't all coming off, so he turned around and really SCRAPED his hand against the fence to ensure they were "clean." I'm sure you can just about imagine my wobbly legs and woozy feeling almost inducing vomit.

On the bus, he held on to the pole for dear life (*I cringe at the thought of ever touching another surface on public transportation*).

I hope I never forget this post!

I need a car!

My brain hurts

Lately I have been kinda weird within my spirit. Today I posted a comment on Twitter saying

"I'm SICK of seeing (live/still) pics 4m Haiti. #nottobeanass ... I just can't take it anymore. #stopexploitingtheiragony"

just a moment ago, I realized the multi-faceted nature of this statement. Yes, I do feel as though a great deal of the distribution of these pictures to be exploitive in nature. I am not, however, so jaded that I don't see the necessity these pictures bring. In our lifetime, many of us hear the name Sally Struthers and immediately disregard her acting career and automatically recall her work with the Christian Children's Fund. Those commercials, although heartwrenching, depicted real life and the need for others to assist their fellow man. These same truths hold true for Haiti's current state.

It's true, I am sick of seeing the pictures. I also think it has something to do with the fact that I'm selfish and somehow want it to be something similar to out-of-sight-out-of-mind. Distressingly, it is not. The other side of my anger stems from my inability to assist in the way I want/would like. I just recognized my anger at not being in Haiti at this moment. I realized I'm so compelled by pictures (again, both still and video) I've seen lately to travel to Haiti and provide some assistance.

Many of you know that I am not currently working. This means I don't have a great deal of disposable income (so giving money to orgs would be tantamount to removing food I "don't have" from my cupboards), yet it also means I have a great deal of time on my hands. There has to be a way I can help. My buddy and #twitterboo (@Hollywood8881) told me I have a big heart and that I should "Just #PrayforHaiti" and she's right. Perhaps the most abundant blessing I can bestow upon these people I don't know (yet feel deeply for) would be my prayers.

I know there have been many organizations telling you the best way to assist is to open up your pocketbooks and shell out funds. Or perhaps you should text someone and have some money sent somewhere. I'm not convinced these are the best ways to appropriate our resources. Yes, there is likely some good that comes from these methods, but I don't know it to be my best recourse. *sigh* <~~ sorry, I'm not sure why I'm transitioning my twitter-speak here.

OK, I'm done ...

I can't remember where I was going with this. So, I'm done.

Men ... can be (kind of) nasty

So lately I've gotten this really icky feeling when it comes to some men. I mean, from one picking their nose on the bus, to another coughing without covering his mouth. Or how about the one that coughs into his hand on the way to the office for an interview then shakes the hand of his interviewer? What is it about (some) men that make them feel as if they don't have to conform to the common decencies set forth for (and by) the rest of us to keep germs to ones self? (That felt like a run-on but it was necessary) It's disgusting.

I know one male that I have NEVER known to wash his hands after using the bathroom. I shudder to think that I've touched something he might have following one of these nasty episodes. It's as if he's some sort of phobia to the sound of the toilet flushing. He flushes the toilet, the door opens and he appears some 10 feet from that very spot as though he didn't want the flush to splash out on him. I can't understand the aversion to washing his hands, but I fear a number two would yield the same result. *I shudder to think* Anyway, that's only one of the things that bother me about (some) men.

As some of you may know, I spend many of my days in Borders bookstore. Well the other day I did just that and I had a little too much coffee (shouts to Seattle's Best inside the store) and so I needed to pee (excuse the candor). Moving right along, I finish my business and, while zipping my pants, I walk toward the sink and notice these two Caucasian men enter the restroom. Well, I know it's not so nice of me but I immediately thought they looked to be kinda like ... well ... OK, Bears. I mean, I know I shouldn't be stereotyping but it's my damned blog, and they're my damned thoughts. You obviously wanna know, otherwise you wouldn't be reading it. Sorry, I digress. Well, I was at the sink washing my hands and my suspicions were confirmed: I looked behind me (through the mirror) and noticed one guy looking at the other guy's junk (without even trying to hide it). *smh* **SIDENOTE: People who design men's restrooms should ALWAYS place partitions between urinals. (yes, a gay man said he doesn't want strangers to be able to look at his junk)** Well, after shaking my head, I looked back that way and the other man was looking giving his gander and man number one's junk. **HAVE THESE MEN NO SHAME?** So I finished washing and drying my hands, man number one looked back at me as I was rolling my eyes and walking out the door.

It was as if he was looking at me to find out if the coast was clear. I envisioned me leaving and them animalistically (did I just create a word?) tearing each other apart. So I mean, typically you think of this sort of thing happening in some hole-in-the-wall along the interstate, but at Borders? Downtown Chicago? That is EFFEN DISGUSTING!!!!!

I'm done boring you with the nastiness that is (some) men. They just rubbed me the wrong way and I thought I'd share it with you

So that's it.
See ya next time.
Ciao4Now.