Believe it or not. I am horrible at delivering jokes. Yep I really am. Most of the time I can't ever even remember one to tell. But there is one that I never forget. It has always stuck with me. I will attempt it right here right now.
A Guy hires 3 other guys to work in his coal mine. One Italian One German and One Chinese Fella.
He instructs the Italian that he is responsible for loading the coal in the cart. The German must see to it that the cart makes it to the surface of the mine. The Chinese Fella is in charge of supplies. After a few good days of hard work the owner comes to tell them all what a great job they are doing but the Chinese guy is no where to be found. The Italian and German both shrug as to his where abouts. So they head further down into the mine to try and find him. Just as they turn a dark corner the Chinese Fella Jumps out of the shadows...."SUPLIZE!"
Ok its bad. But you see why I like it? And you know where I am going with this.
So. Yesterday...(Thursday the 11th of June) I was struggling to stay sane after a second night of not being able to sleep. I finally got up from my bed around 6am furious and flustered. I decided to pass on a coffee. And instead sipped at a diet 7up. Around 7am I decided to head off to my favorite little market in the center of Portland to get some food for the week. The carts in this particular store are awkward. They are basically a carry basket affixed to 4 wheels with a rack on the bottom. It really is a small market. SO. I scurried about the market I bent down to grab a bottle of Sweet Baby Rays BBQ.
As I bent over I whacked my head on the corner of the end cap. "Fuck" I whimpered. Now I was really in a bad mood. But I thought nothing more of my forehead. Well for the next minute I noticed people staring at me. And naturally I took a silent defense. 'What the fuck are these fuckers looking at' I wondered. Then I tossed my curly bangs back in disgust with my hand. Basically my way of saying FUCK OFF. To all the people giving me horrid looks. When I realized that my hand returned with a large amount of blood on it. So I felt my forehead again sure enough it was covered in blood. Oh Now I know why people are looking at me funny!!
I approached a seemingly nice little Somalian woman who was wearing the apron that indicated she was employed there. "Exuse me, may I please have a paper towel I seem to have caught my head on an endcap?" I asked with a charming smile. Despite the blood that is now dripping off the tip of my nose that I dare not touch for fear of staining my shirt. "Oh Oh OHHHH" she said with a very well defined accent. I waited about 10 more seconds for the response I was looking for or at least a point in the right direction. It never arrived. I then hold my hand out much like the same fashion as Sophia on the Golden Girls. "EX CUUZE EMWA DO YOU GOT A PAPAH TOWILL IN THA I CAN BLOT SOME BLOOOD WIT?" I was sounding a bit demanding then. But damned if she didn't say "OH OH OHHHHH OVA Ear PAPAH TOWILL!" She then ran over and pointed to a roll of Paper towels. "Ear Ear Ear" she cried. I then waltzed over and ripped a few off to blot my bloody head and at this point face. I knew that it was hopeless at this point and that my entire face was now blood stained regardless of how dry it was at this point. But I grabbed my cart and marched about on my merry way to finish shopping. And despite the awkward looks I received. I managed to wrap it up. But not with out wondering... 'What would cause me to speak to someone in such a manner?' Am I so impatient that I would totally disfigure my speech to obtain something that I need? What the fuck just happened? And on the way home I thought long and hard about this. I needed a modest answer. This is what I remembered.
I think I was about 19. I was with my mother and for some reason she was driving. We stopped off at the little produce market that is (or used to be...I don't know if it still is) attached to the Laundromat that is across from WAWA and Plymouth Park in Conshy. For some reason I decided to go in with her. She just needed to get a few things. When it was her turn to pay I stood next to her and the oriental cashier says, "Sue Dolla". My mother gives me a quick glance as she reached into her pocketbook. I remember she had that certain look in her eye. She held up the money in question as of 'how much'. "Sue Dolla" he repeats. "TWO DOLLARS?" my mother asks. "Sue Dolla" he says as he nods yes. Just as my mother was to hand him the $2. She with drew her money. "Two Dollarsz" my mother sounded out. "T T T T TWWOO DOOOLARZ"
She again corrected him. At this point I was headed for the door. As I exited I heard her again "T T T T T...." Eventually she made it back in the car. I gave her the look. "What the hell wass that all about?" I asked. "How the HELL am I supposed to know what the hell SUe Dolla is!" she yelled. I did not respond.
As I thought more about that senerio. I remembered others. But even more I remembered what it was like EVERY TIME SHE WENT SHOPPING as I was growing up. It never failed. I always ended up in the car tooting the horn as she stood at the exit chatting away to someone she has not seen in 20 years. And the more I thought about it. I then realized this may be the cause for my Cambell's Soup Commercial Syndrome that you have heard me refer to before. Of course I didn't know what it was called back then. But now that I have had the proper diagnosis I can refer to it as the above mentioned syndrome.
I then remembered back in Bridgeport 1997 League Collegiate Wear. And A Colleague of mine Barb. Barb was a very Sassy Irish Lady. But also very charming in her own way. She didn't take anyone's shit. And soon you will see that I mean that literally. There were also...in the Embroidery Department. A few people working directly from India that did not speak a lick of English. And when you talked to them all they did was shake their head yes or no. Even if you were not looking for one of those answers. This used to really get Barbs goat. And she often resorted to the same thing I did earlier. She would raise her hand like Sophia. "You AVE TO MUST SIGN DA PAPAH WOORRK AFTA YOU DONE WIT DIS" It was a constant battle with her. And her frustration became more and more apparent. I then remembered one of the funniest things that I could not believe I forgot.
One Day. I heard the power washer going in the back of the facility. I knew that there was no reason for it to be running. So I take a walk back to investigate. I thought I was going to find that someone had fucked up in burning a screen or something and was hoping that I would not catch them. But to my SUPLIZE. It was Barb There she stood at the entrance to the bathroom in a pair of goggles with her hair blowing back spraying down the entire bathroom with a fucking pressure washer. I poked her and she shut it off. I asked her what the fuck was going on. "Look!" she exclaimed. " The Indians seem to not want to flush their shitty toilet paper and they have taken to throwing in the waste can or the floor. I come in here there is shit smeared all over the place" I look at her with alarm. I peek in. And she does not hesitate to point out a few smears to me. To this I walk away. But the next day she again does not hesitate to bring this matter up at the bi-daily production meeting. "How do you think we should handle this?" I ask in a muffled laugh. And soon the rest of the people sitting at the meeting started to laugh. Everyone but Barb. "I think we should hang signs up" she offers. And we all laugh again. But not Barb. She was serious. "OK then we will!" And I look at the graphic guy and ask him to bring some sign ideas to the next meeting. "Fair Enough!" he smiles.
The Next meeting before anything got under way Barb inquired about the signs. So the graphic guy with a certain smirk on his face pulls out to sign idea's. One is a 'Yes' sign that has a drawing of a stick figured man squatting over the toilet dropping his soiled toilet paper into the toilet under his stick figured ass. The other is a 'No' sign that has a stick figured man standing before the toilet dropping the soiled toilet paper into the trash can. The entire table laughed so hard at this we never even were able to complete the meeting. But not Barb. She thought it was great and immediately took possession of the yes and no signs very anxious to get them hung.
THis memory made me laugh equally as hard. And I remembered my influence for speaking to the nice little lady in the market that morning. Good ole' Barb!! I wonder if she is on Facebook!!
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