Dodging Bullets

The idea for this blog originally came from a conversation that I had with a friend of mine last week.  As I perused the wonderful world of Facebook, I noticed that one of his ex-girlfriends recently had a child.  "Bullet dodged," he told me.  "You should write about something like that, we've all dodged bullets."  

So, I got to thinking, and he is 100% correct, everyone has dodged bullets.  All of us look back on different aspects of our lives and think "thank God..."  Thank God my friend pulled me away from the creepy guy trying to dance with me at the club.  Thank God I somehow stopped before rear-ending the car in front of me.  Thank God I got a job after college.... What have you.  

Initially, this blog was going to be all about those figurative bullets that I've dodged.  After my Friday evening on the South Side, however, this blog will now be about a literal bullet that I dodged, and the aftermath that came with it. 

Don't even ask, everything I'm about to tell you is absolutely true.

Around 12:50a.m., my friends and I exited Mullen's on 21st and East Carson Street.  At the exact moment that we stepped off of the tiny stoop and tried to turn left to proceed to Mario's, we were stampeded by countless African American men running in the opposite direction.  I looked across the street, and saw that the stampede existed there too.  Very few words were exchanged between those running.  I, however, had a few things to say while I hugged the side of Mullen's in an effort to avoid those fleeing the scene of the crime.

"What is this, a gang fight?"

"Seems like something that would happen in Betty's 1 at my store."

"That's why you can't open up bars like 'District 3.'"

And finally, as the police and ambulances began to show up and block off the next street over, 

"Oh no, my Jetta is parked on that block."

For the first time ever, in all of my years of going to the South Side, I got a parking spot directly on East Carson Street.  Then, it became part of the crime scene of a shooting.  This is kind of the epitome of "white girl problems."

After the runaways seemed to have vacated the general area, and most of my friends left the general area also,  Rachel suggested we get a closer look.  Eric was the only person that stuck with us, thanks Eric!  As we slowly began to approach the next block, we caught portions of some conversations from the remaining bystanders.  "Shooting," and "District 3" were the general consensus. Welp, seems like I'm the modern day Nostradamus.  As the EMTs loaded the shooting victim into the ambulance, he thew up a couple of gang signs to the crowd that I am unfamiliar with.  The EMT scolded him, "I'm not going to tell you again, keep your arms down, you've just been shot."

One man walked by us yelling about the fact that no one was searched upon entry to the club.  "All they was worried about was that guap," he said.  After talking to Keela, I now know what guap is.  Looking back, I should have used context clues, as that word is in one of my favorite rap songs ever "This is Why I'm Hot."  I digress... 

 Another man had the same problem as me, his car was part of the crime scene.  However, I wasn't in a hurry to get home and he was.  He tried to un-parallel park his vehicle even though it was between two cars, had a police car parked next to it, and was directly across the street from the crime scene.  Think I'm kidding? Here:

"A picture is worth 1,000 words." Amen

After backing into the parking meter numerous times and backing into the car behind him also, a police officer approached the man and told him to turn off his car.  This caused quite the uproar.  "No I did not roll up on your because you're black," the officer told him. "I rolled up on you because you just backed into the car behind you, you are about the hit my police car, and someone just got shot and you are in a hurry to leave."  Ultimately the police re-parked the man's car and he was told to return in the morning to pick it up.  

From what I understand, city councilmen are working to have the club shut down before next the weekend.  The last club housed in that venue closed because of the same problem; gun violence. I hope the club does get shut down for good, so that those of us trying to enjoy ourselves on the South Side can do just that.

So, there is my literal bullet dodging story.  Would I ever go to District 3?  No, I wouldn't.  But being one block away at the exact time of the shooting is close enough for me, especially with the aftermath of the stampede.  I hope that is the closest that I ever have to come to dodging literal bullets.

PS: My next post will be live from Hawaii :) :) :) 

Here's to dodging bullets of every variety, 

Xoxo

Stupid Shit Girls Do

On Friday night, I found myself walking back to my car on the south side along the creepy river trail with one boy that I sort of know and one that I've never met before.  When the guy that I have met before asked me what my next blog would be about and I told him "Stupid Shit Girls Do," he replied, "Oh, like walking along the river at night with two strangers?"  So yes, this blog is about things just.like.that.  In the last few weeks I've observed some absolutely ridiculous shit that girls do, and often times I have thought to myself, "sweet Jesus, we are a VERY troubled gender."  Here is a small sample of the absurdities that I've witnessed by my fellow females....


They honestly believe that they can keep up with men in a shot taking contest.  Okay, no you cannot.  This problem is actually an epidemic.  "I bet I can take more shots than you," you'll hear the stupid girl say.  The guy accepts the bet, mostly because he has a 100% chance of winning, and the girl inevitably ends up crying, calling her ex-boyfriend, sleeping with her face on the toilet and spending the next day saying "I'm never drinking again."  Going to Shady Grove on wine night does not mean that you are qualified for a shot competition, especially with a man.  


They ask others if they look fat, knowing damn well that no one's opinion but their own matters.  It has been my experience that when a girl says, "does this dress make me look fat?"  It's because the dress doesn't make them look fat.  They ask the question purely to hear that they don't look fat.  If the girl truly thought she looked fat she would have done one of two things a)changed the dress b)not asked you if she looked fat or not.  Seriously, girls are messed up creatures. 


They obsess over one song, and listen to it 400 times a day.  I am guilty of this crime, I listened to Big Sean's "Ass" roughly 12 times a day for three months straight.  Last night at Sara's party, we listened to "Call Me Maybe" six times that I remember.  Sara screamed the lyrics every single time, and snapped along to the beat.  


Ever notice that these days every single girl you meet is a "model," except they really aren't at all.  Having your photo taken in the photo booth at Ross Park Mall doesn't qualify you as a model.  Having a photo shoot in the woods with a guy that owns a camera doesn't make you a model.  Having a Facebook photo album titled "Model Pics" doesn't make you a model.  You don't walk the runway, you aren't a Victoria's Secret Angel and you aren't on the cover of magazines... stop telling people you are a model. 


They wear glasses when they actually have fantastic vision.  I don't understand this whatsoever.  I think that maybe they are trying to convince people that they are smart?  Anyways, newsflash, no matter how many pairs of fake glasses you own, if you still say stupid shit on the reg., everyone knows that you aren't Einstein. At the end of the day, girls that wear fake glasses are in the same category as those that cake on their make up and wear colored contacts: Fake.


They wear yoga pants, or work out clothes in general, with absolutely no intention of working out.  I see this ALL the time.  Honestly, yoga pants shouldn't even be made in giant sizes because they do more harm than good.  Yoga pants have gone from clothes only worn to work out in (their original use), to clothes worn out anywhere at all when girls don't feel like putting pants on.  I'm willing to bet that 80% of the people that regularly sport yoga pants have never actually done yoga in their life.  I know what you're thinking, "that's a really high percentage."  Yeah, well... look around. 


They try to multitask while driving.  Look, we are already bad drivers; it's a fact.  We are bad drivers when we are doing nothing but driving, so what makes you think you can successfully drive a car while putting on mascara, texting your friends or searching in your purse for something?  Last week I almost rear-ended a car when trying to retrieve my Bruegger's bagel from my passenger's seat.  Girls even say stupid things like, "I'm so good at texting and driving."  No, you aren't, you aren't even good at driving. If you don't care about your own safety, that's one thing, but to put other's safety in jeopardy is just selfish.


Every guy reading this is probably impressed by my ability to pick up on these idiotic characteristics.  Every girl reading this is probably either laughing, cause they know people like this or they are straight up pissed off because they are like the girls listed above.  Either way, everything discussed above is 100% factual. 


I hope that everyone has a fantastic week and enjoys this amazing weather! 


Here's to keeping it real, ladies.


Xoxo

Things "Men" Have Told Me

This particular blog has gone through many editing phases, as I've cut and added in sections while deciding what portions of my personal life should be showcased for the public.  More importantly, I've been spending a great deal of time working on my book and some of these tidbits are included on a much larger scale there.  Basically, I didn't wait this little blog to spoil anything for my readers. This post was also inspired when a male friend of mine told me, "If we are ever going to get married, you'll have to understand that I'm always right."  It was at that point that I realized, I've never met a man that was wrong. The following will, of course, prove otherwise.

In my younger college years, my boyfriend once told me, "If you do a keg stand, you are a slut."  A pretty interesting claim, if I do say so myself. In no way am I saying that girls who participate in keg stands are the epitome of class.  I am, however, suggesting that doing a keg stand has absolutely nothing in common with frequency of sexual intercourse or number of sexual partners.  Later in our relationship, after I was involved a car accident that sent my roommate and I to the emergency room, that same boy flipped out on me when I told him that I was unable to go to wing night with him and his friends.  In an earlier blog post I mentioned that most people will not remain single forever.  This particular individual may very well beat the odds.

During my first week of work, I witnessed a very large African American man screaming profanities at the register.  While he was not necessarily swearing AT anyone, he was yelling the F word quite loudly.  Let's face it, if I can hear you over the music you're far too loud.  I approached the man and asked him to "please stop using those words, there are children around."  The man pointed in my face and told me, "I will say whatever I want because I am a grown ass man."  We exchanged our sides of the dispute  back and forth before I realized that this man (much like the great majority of other men in the world) truly thought he was correct, and there was no sense in arguing with him.  On his way out of the store, he continued to scream profanities and throw clothes onto the ground.  I called security and inadvertently made my first arrest. This man learned the hard way that he in fact could not say what he wanted.  Sucks to suck.


When I went away to college I was absolutely fascinated with a boy from home.  Much like life always seems to work, the two of us met just a couple of months before I was moving away.  He was older than I was, liked to throw parties, and always seemed carefree.  Although we hung out almost every day, he told me that he didn't want a girlfriend.  When I got to college, we talked on the phone every single day.  Mind you, we weren't dating.  Within the first month of college, I came back to Pittsburgh twice to hang out with this boy... even though we "weren't dating."  After two months of being away at school, he showed up on my dorm porch as a surprise with flowers in hand.  Still, we weren't dating.  Soon after that, during a phone conversation, we broke up.  "Strange," I told him, "Since we were never actually dating."  Talk about mixed signals.  I know I was not the first girl to face a problem like this, and I know I most certainly will not be the last either. 

A few years ago, a boy I was interested in proclaimed to myself and a few of my friends that he "wished he was a dolphin."  I don't exactly know why he felt that way, or why he chose to express it in front of a large group of people, but he did.  I had no choice but to lose interest in this particular individual.  My friends would have never forgotten a comment like that.  In fact, they still bring it up to this day.  I went out with that boy twice after he decided he wanted to be a mammal.  Both of those times, my brother asked me if he licked the windows in my car.  

 Most recently, a boy told me that wasn't capable of running the marathon.  Funny, right?  "Nicole, you don't eat enough calories to walk a mile, how do you think you are going to run a marathon?"  Yikes.  Proved you wrong, didn't I?  To be fair, the boy was great about constantly only caring about himself.  I was rather surprised by his sudden interest in my caloric intake.  


If I've learned anything from the "men" above, it's that they are better off not talking at all.  Additionally, I think that each of them should meet one another, as they would make a fantastic group of friends.  I'd love to continue with the madness, but I'm saving a great deal of material for my book which will be about ex-boyfriends and first dates.  Stay tuned. Until next week....


Here's to cute boys keeping their stupid mouths shut, 


Xoxo