Better Have A Seat...

**Extra Long Yall**

Already into my third day of work and already I have an unwanted admirer.

AKA a “stalker”.

Being that I am a stalkee expert as many of my exes or dudes I stopped messing with for various reasons did not have anything better to do than make my life miserable as well as having me look over my shoulders as I walked past alleys, this comes as no surprise. I have “stalk me please” written on my forehead.

**sigh**

The killing part is I have no idea who the f*ck this guy is. Have never seen him before, don’t know his name or anything but apparently he has taken a shine to me. His “Beautiful Black Creature” *his words*

Ummm yeah Ima need him to stop with the racist undertones.

This creepy ass French guy has been lurking around my job apparently for days *ok well technically three* and finally I caught a glimpse of the bastard.

Personally I think he’s a little “loco” but whatever.

My first few days at the job have been wonderful. No training for me as I have already been trained at my previous location so basically I have just been getting a run-through of the hotel. Sure the people are lazier than a mother*cheer but hey I’m lazy as f*ck as well so we all get along pretty well…until it’s time to do some work of course. Then everyone scatters like roaches when the lights come on.

There’s one girl at the job, really cool but unfortunately she’s an African. Which of course means one of these days I will probably end up cursing her out because **sorry for the stereotype** but African women have the stankiest attitudes I have ever come across. I don’t know the deal is but I had to curse out at least two of the African women at my previous location because of their attitude problem. Granted I have an attitude but damn these African women makes me think that Black people are genetically disposed to have f*cked up attitudes. The girl in question is really sweet…but irritates or piss her off. Those claws come out honey. Then she mutters some sh*t **probably BITCH** in her native tongue and rolls her neck like the most hoodrat-ist female in the Chi.

Sorry for the generalization but where I come from you’re Black, White, Chinese, Mexican, “Arab”, or African. Damn all that Puerto Rican **Nigga you Mexican**, Vietnamese **We’re walking in your restaurant talking about some shrimp fried rice**, All “Arab” folks are related to Osama, and hell you’re just African, especially if you have a hair braiding shop. “Girl go to the Africans on 63rd, they’ll hook yo’ shit up right!”
Another girl she’s like a Southern Belle. Had the nerve to tell me I sound countrier than her…And she’s from DC! And there are some DC folk who are country as hell. I mean I can’t help but sound country sometimes, it’s from my family. We all sound like we’re from Alabama and don’t let us go to Mississippi for the summer…We’re sounding like Creoles. Only without all the French talking. Just hard as hell to understand us. So I have something of a southern twang by default. She’s really pretty. She reminds me of one of my girls.

The guys are pretty cool. A little goofy but cool as hell. They do most of the work actually. The women just dump our load off on them and go on lunch. There is one guy in HR who creeps me the f*ck out. I’m sorry he looks like a child molester **well at least one of the ones on L&O:SVU** He has these bright blue eyes and when he stares at you, I see the devil. He always have this creepy little smile on his face too so usually when I see him coming, I walk in the opposite direction. And I think he’s gay. Not a bad thing but a grown ass man should not have a lisp. And a manufactured one at that. He talks to some people like a regular guy but let him get around someone else. That damn lisp is out in full effect. Makes me want to slap him in the mouth with a dictionary **from a distance of course because he scares me** He is one guy who I definitely would not want to be on a side street with. I bet he’s that creepy old guy on the blocks with a lot of cats who lives with his overbearing mother which is why he’s a damn pervert in the first place.

And you know he has a sashay. I peeped that the first day.

So I have been having fun these past few days…until I found out I have a French stalker.

I found this out via one of the girls I work with. I came in work yesterday and we’re chatting when she brings up how it’s funny when I show up so does this guy who hangs around the lobby. She said she noticed him Monday lurking in the lobby but he didn’t stick around long enough. But she did notice he kept peeking over at the desk. Paranoid white girl that she is, she assumed he was “scoping” the place I guess to rob us. What the f*ck was he going to get? Some key packets? There is virtually no cash at the front desk.

The next day, he came in at the same time and hung around the lobby. She claimed he came to the front desk and said something to me but I kinda just brushed him off. But she was like he was smiling and everything at me the entire time he was in the lobby and he stayed in the lobby for a long ass time.

How and why the hell she was noticing this I wondered. Heifer probably set my ass out there to his ass. That goes to show you…White folks need to mind their own business every once and a while.

So today, I’m walking from the Metro to work, minding my own damn business. I’m trying to text to my friend about the conversation I had with another friend so I’m not giving my full attention to my surroundings as I usually do. So I’m walking up to the parking lot and I’m about to go in the building when I hear someone shouting.

I turn my head and lo and behold…Strange French Guy.

Apparently this fool followed me from the Metro and was admiring my “style” or something like that hell his accent was too thick for me to understand. So at first I’m smiling all politely as he rambles on in broken English and French I guess about how “pretty” I am and I am a “Beautiful Black Creature”. I finally cut the bullsh*t and just tell him I have a boyfriend and I walk off.

Oh no this wasn’t enough for his ass. He catches up with me at the security door and asks for my phone number. I tell him I don’t date White guys. Well he’s not “White” he’s French. I just flat out hell him “Hell F*cking Naw” and I go through the door. I think that’s the last I have seen of him.

10 minutes later I go out to the front and guess who is pacing in front of the desk?

He once again praises my beauty and how we would look so good together and tells me when he first seen me getting off the train MONDAY he knew we were meant to be. So basically he has been following me since Monday.

Now the girls at the desk are rolling because he’s gotten kind of loud and everyone in the lobby hears his odes of affection for me. Oh yeah he has been watching me since Monday but he leaves after awhile because he do not want to “scare me”. And since he has to work, he can’t watch me all day because apparently that’s what he would like to do as he can stare at my “beautiful Black skin for hours”.

Now he ain’t just going to be tossing out all these “Black” references. I know I’m Black. I don’t need a reminder or the feeling that I am some “exotic” creature. It’s bad enough White Folks have taken to calling my name “exotic” **ain’t sh*t “exotic” about my damn name…”Exotic” must be the new “Ghetto” because my name has officially became a hood name. Tame by today’s Ghetto Name Standards…6 letters, no Qs, Ws, Es, Us or anything like that…But still “Ghetto”**

So before he could bust out the violins, I had to cut this sh*t short. The girls are egging him on and obviously he is not familiar with Black peoples’ sarcasm so he’s really getting into it. He had the nerve to ask me for a kiss. Yes people, a kiss. Puckered his crusty ass lips up and everything. You know I had to look at him like he had lost the left and right side of his mind. I don’t think he understood half of the sh*t I said but the look on my face must have been enough because he dipped off because I could call security.

Damn third day on the job and already an unwanted admirer. I guess he’s not as bad as the nut ass nigga from New Jersey who showed up at my last job with flowers. He called every single hotel in DC/MD/VA until he found an employee with my name and narrowed the search down. Shows how much the company cares, right?

But to be safe, when I left work I had the rat-tail comb gripped. Sure it wasn’t a nice but I’ll shank your ass nice and lovely with the end of that comb. Hell if the clubs in Chicago deems it as a “weapon” and refuse to let you in if you have one in your purse that must mean something.

Improvise. Improvise.

Now I have to be three times as careful going to work. No more listening to my Shuffle for awhile.

Tuesday, after work, I received a hilarious phone call. Of course this is one of those times when I think sh*t is “cute” when I probably should have been otherwise. I think I see things as “cute” or “amusing” to prevent myself from getting too angry. My quickest emotion of course is anger. The slowest emotion is compassion. Hey I’ll be angry/sad before I’m sad/angry. That’s kinda f*cked up isn’t it? I’ll cry because I’m just that pissed off before I cry over something that’s sad. Unless it’s Mufasa’s death on The Lion King. Then a b*tch is sobbing like when Bambi’s mother bit the dust.

I do cry **at least twice a year** but hell even that sneaks up on me.

I blame my “Napoleon Complex”.

It started with a call from my mother. We were chatting because due to my partying on Saturday, I basically ran in, showered, and flew back out the door on Sunday so we did not have a chance to talk. I found out an interesting tidbit: LIGHT BRIGHT had leukemia and it has been in remission for three years. I had no f*cking idea although his legs were abnormally smooth. As in hairless. I remembered teasing him saying he must shave or wax and he got kinda quiet **insert foot in mouth** but I was a little mad because he could have said something. No one told me anything and as nosy as I can be I needs to stay in the loop. I thought about calling him and cursing him out but I thought about it and couldn’t be mad that he did not want to disclose that type of information. You would never know by looking at him at he underwent Chemo. So I was stunned to find that out.

She told me PRINCE **cute guy I grew up with** stopped by Sunday but I was already gone. She was like he looked a little upset and left looking all sick. Of course she was teasing me about that. My mama knows me.

So he calls me later on and we’re just catching up talking about our lives and whatnot. Out the blue **and I mean out the blue we were talking about his crazy ass cousin Jonas** he asked me could he eat me out.

**silence**

**crickets chirp**

Nigga what?

Now this is the same shy nigga who couldn’t tell me he had a crush on me for years but can casually ask can he eat me out like he asked what time it is.

Due to the crickets chirping loud as f*ck on my side of the phone, PRINCE goes on to just say he wanted to put that out there. He doesn’t want to f*ck or anything, he just wants to eat me out.

Now my mind is telling me no but my body is telling me yes…..*lol* R. Kelly for ya.

Hey getting head is my weakness. My legs will automatically part like sesame at just the mention of munching on the muffin. Hell it’s been some guys that I would marry for the tongue alone. Of course now men are more *ahem* open to admitting that they dive into the goodness and many are definitely stepping up on them skills **just because it’s referred to as “eating” doesn’t mean that sh*t is literal. Gnawing on my sh*t like it’s a three piece is definitely not sexy**, opening workshops and sh*t on how to properly munch on the muffin or hell…actually enjoying the act instead of half assed doing it so you can get some “reciprocals” but for him to just blurt that out amused me deeply.

So of course **to 75% humor and 25% serious** I begin to drill him on his um *ahem* oral qualifications. Sorry only seasoned vets can get down with this. No “I only did it once **even though you ass is lying**” or stuttering ass niggas **although the stuttering does have its benefits wink wink** because you don’t know what you’re doing…although practice does makes perfect. Nigga gotta learn gotta learn.

I just had to end the conversation. Had me all hot and bothered and of course that’s when the live in booty comes in handy.

Had me contemplating on how oral sex is technically not cheating because most people doesn’t consider oral sex as cheating because technically folks see as it “foreplay” and not “actual sex” **LOL* but I would never do anything like that. I mean I have before of course. Kicked his ass out with the glaze still around his mouth but Tenacious has resolved to be a better person.

But strangely amused I was. Had to call FH whom is my personal voice of reason. Basically she told me to stop being a horny, greedy old goat. Which is true. I need to keep my mind out the gutter. That’s why I couldn’t be a male.

Folks like to come out the woodwork don’t they?

Get thee behind me Satan.