Active Defiance of Accepted Norms.

No one who knows me would ever call me ladylike. Sorry, Mom! I am a sassy, brassy and mostly asexual woman with a lot of opinions, emotions and gumption. I am a woman…just not much of a lady. I like that about me.

Thank You

It’s not that I belch at dinner tables or wear my skirts too short. It’s that I simply don’t like a lot of male priveledge invading my space…and today, some dudes had to learn to live with it.

namascray

So, I’m painting at the park for the first time today. I think I interrupted some planned afternoon delight between two dudes on the down low. It was weird.

I pulled into a parking space. It happened to be next to Dude #1. He was impressibly attired in a white, mesh ‘wife beater’ , saggy jeans and a cap, could’ve been a baseball cap or a trucker hat. I’m not sure. In an effort to avoid eye contact, I just tried to not look in his direction.

Before I could decide on getting out of my truck, Dude #2 pulls in behind me.

He gets out of his car and walks over to the first dude’s car. I don’t know what they had planned but I wasn’t leaving my car and I wasn’t leaving the park. Too bad boys, I had some painting to do.

I put on my headphones and start playing, “Andy Warhol”, of course. Even in cramped quarters, the creative spirit overcame me and I was painting up a storm.

The Dudes must’ve wanted me to leave because they started to talk really loud. I’m not sure what about… but in an effort to tune them out, I began singing. Loudly. I know my 1999 Passport isn’t soundproof. I’m sure they heard. The loud conversation got louder. I changed my soundtrack to “Mystery Achievment” by The Pretenders.

Soon I was jammin’ to Nina Simone’s “See Line Woman” and “Sinnerman”, two of my favorite songs. I belted them out like I was singing a solo in church.

I spent about an hour in my truck. I was painting and singing. Singin’ and Paintin’.  It was fun.

After a bit, Dude# 2 took his leave of the situation. No Nookie For You, Honey.  Dude # 1 decided to stick around, maybe he had another friend coming. I’m not sure nor was I interested in knowing. I’d had my fill of creative rebellion for the day.

Feels Good to Be Sorta Bad.

Ain’t I a Stinker?

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