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.
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.
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?