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Alas, the thread with my tale of trying to get Young Black Teamster to go to Black Lives Matter-esque protests was in a thead that has since been locked, but if it were still active, I'd post the following under it: Two Women Who Met As Ferguson Protesters Get Married
Hands up, don't shoot!
You be the judge...
I have discovered how to make secret posts on Facebook that only she can see, but I'm sure she won't mind if I share this one:
After prepping her via phone to deal with a certain situation all week, she exceeded my expectations by coming back and telling me that she ended up losing her shiznit and yelling at...well, you don't need to know who, but the fact that she screamed and yelled instead of breaking down and crying was a big step and, if I may be so self-centered, a personal victory. I was so proud of her, I talked to her on the phone until 3:30 in the morning. Got very little sleep. Went to work...
Edited Repost of Secret Facebook Post
Went into work today elated. Got there and was assigned to 128 Door with [Young Black Teamster] again. Also there were two new hires and [Widowed Teamster], a large, widowed mother of two who, as a worker, is next to useless. It's already a mess by the time I stroll in 20 minutes late.
I spend about a half hour or so organizing them to clean up the mess. In that time, I figure out what the strengths and weaknesses of the new hires are. [New Hire #1] is a bit of a Mongo, but strong, so I ask him to load the PD 11s and 4s. [New Hire #2]'s a lot smarter, so I ask him to sort. [Widowed Teamster] is useless, so I ask her to scan the ShoeBuys. Etc., etc.
Get the mess all cleaned up, everything's running smooth, [YBT]'s texting his b%*&@es, etc. Except that management has f&%~ed up and we're missing a truck. So all the stuff that's supposed to go into the missing truck starts piling up. I deal with that and everything's running smooth.
New truck shows up. I tell everybody to stop what they're doing, and work on cleaning up the mess and then we'll get back to the flow. Flow starts backing up, but that's fine, I say, when we're done here, we'll get that all sorted with and then everything will be fine for the rest of the day.
Flow keeps backing up. Young supervisor comes over and yells at [YBT} to get the flow running again. [YBT] says "[Doodlebug] said not to." Supervisor starts moving packages, which is Union Rule #1 No-No: Supervisors do not do our work. Not only is he not supposed to be doing our work, but what he's doing is messing with what I've got working.
So, I yell out "Hey!" and start walking towards him. He looks at me. "Stop doing our work!" He smiles as if he thinks I'm joking. I lose my s@*+. "What the f$ are you doing?!? Put that package down!" He starts talking about blah blah blah and I just scream at him. All my co-workers run and hide. I scream and scream and he keeps talking about the flow and I just keep screaming. Finally I yell, "Go get a steward!" "But, but..." "This conversation is over! Go get a steward!"
He leaves and comes back with, not a steward, but his boss. By that time, however, we've cleaned up the mess and are now working on the flow. I calmly approach the young supervisor, preemptively apologize for yelling at him and explain to him what I was doing. I apologize again. "We good?" "Yeah, we're good." "Good, now go get me a load stand." I then approach the supervisor's boss, explain that [YBT] had nothing to do with it, it's all on me, and, if he'll just give us a few minutes, everything will be fine and run smooth for the rest of the day. "[Doodlebug], are you okay? You sound like you were pretty aggravated." "I was up all night talking to my girlfriend, but I'll be fine. Don't worry, it'll run smooth." He walks away.
At this point, [Widowed Teamster] approaches me. "You scared the f~&+ing s%!$ out of me." "You know why I did that?" "To scare the s$*% out of me?" "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Do you know why I did that?" "No."
"Because I have a new girlfriend and the love of a good woman can turn a mild mouse of a man into a raging lion."
She looks at me blankly for thirty seconds, swallows, and says, "Holy s@+%, kid. You're killing me."
Hand over my heart, I didn't embellish a single word of this one. I'm going over [Mrs. Comrade]'s to talk about you. Love ya, baby.
Not in the story, but a couple of hours later, was approached by bosses' boss. "Hey, Doodlebug, it's kind of light today, you wanna go home early?" "Hell yeah, I wanna go call my new girlfriend."
Which should have been great, but in my haste to tell her the story, I overlooked the part in her private messages where she told me that she almost collapsed in front of her kids because she was up until 3:30 in the morning talking to me. (Damn, my love is potent.) Spent 4 hours in a state of extreme unrest as she fired off pointed private message after private message. Finally got her on the phone and she had already figured out that I had overlooked that part of the message. A bunch of baby talk makes everything better, I wake up and find a bunch of lovey-dovey stuff on Facebook.
Not to make too much of it, but, I'm starting to figure out, as she warned me, that she's crazy.
Crazy chicks are better in bed, I've always heard.
Apparently, Principessa Francesca had an anxiety attack yesterday because she couldn't believe something as "good as [me]" could happen to her.
[Shakes head in amazement] Man, I'm good!
I told her that after the giddiness wore off she was going to realize that I was just an infantile man-child who lives with his parents who was wicked into her, no biggie.
Tales from the Shop Floor
So, back when The Black Goblin got a new girlfriend and I was dallying with roller derby playing hussies, The Black Gob went into work and was having a typical Teamster New England ball-busting sessions with his boss. At some point, The Black Gob sez, "No, no, I've got a girlfriend now." Black Gob's boss responds: "Is his name [Doodlebug Anklebiter]?"
Anyway, fast forward a couple of days and I'm working with the Britishiznoid National Teamster and he's complaining about the way a boss was treating him. "Look," I say, "Bosses are like pedophiles" [Teamsters love this analogy] "They can look over a crowd of workers and instantly figure out which one they can get away with picking on. So you gotta stand up for yourself and develop a rep, and then they'll leave you alone." As I'm saying this, I see the Black Goblin's boss walk by. "Watch this...HEY! [BOSS]!" [Boss sees me and smiles] "What's this I hear about you going around saying [The Black Goblin] and I are gay?!?" Boss blushes brightly and hurriedly walks away. "I'm filing a complaint with H.R.!" He disappears. "See", I say to Britishiznoid Teamster, "That's how you do it."
Two weeks later, when I was hiding at the Free NH Goblin Man-Cave, I told the Black Goblin the story and he busts out laughing. "So, that's what that was all about?" "Huh?" "He came up to me yesterday and wanted to know why you were going around saying the he had said that we were gay." We both laugh for a while. "Hee hee! He waited two weeks to say anything? What a coward! So what did you tell him?" "I told him, 'Because that's what you f@+$in' said!" [Laughter] "What he did say?" "He just blushed and ran away."
Pardon the interruption...
[Conversation with Young Black Teamster with whom I've been discussing politics at work]
Me: Hey, you get down to any of the protests, yet?
YBT: Nah. I want to, but, I haven't had a chance. Man, f$#% the p...
Me: Yeah, lissen to me, f+!* all that, politics and shiznit. Lissen: I went to one of the protests and I now have a hawt New York schoolteacher girlfriend. Now, look, if two middle-aged white people can get together at these protests, what do you think's gonna happen when a young black stud like you shows up?
YBT: Yeah, yeah, I'll clean up!
Me: Yeah, you'll get all the pussy.
YBT: That's right! I'm goin' to the protests! I'm gonna get all the pussy!
Man, this organizing shiznit is easy.
True Love Waits
I got to say to
I know, I know, you're thinking recycling lines about Ariel the Sexy Roller Derby Chick for Principessa Francesca isn't very cool, but, during the course of the conversation I was telling her a non-sexy story that started, "So, I was talking to my friend, Ariel..." and she interrupts "Is Ariel the girl you rubbed your penis against?" [Silence] "Ha, ha, you forgot you told me that story, didn't you?" [I had] She then told me funny stories about her loser ex-lovers. (Not that Ariel is a loser, no, no, no.)
Anyway, I imagine it might be obnoxious to come into a thread purportedly about international proletarian socialist revolution and have to read post after post about the courtship rituals of commie goblins, so I will try to not post about Principessa Francesca until something noteworthy happens, like, maybe, the consummation of our relationship, which, she assures me (I didn't even ask) will happen soon.
Socialism will get everybody laid!
Disgusting Tales of Goblin Love
Comrade Anklebiter wrote:
posted it on her page; it made her blush.
After posting the video, a comrade in Worcester shared it. She blushed more and private messaged the comrade that I had made the video for her and she wasn't sure I'd want it to be shared. Comrade replied that he didn't think I was very shy. Meanwhile, UE local president comes along and shares the video again. Goblin love gone viral! She blushes more.
After I posted the video, I left the Comrades' house where their ADHD-diagnoses means they are constantly on the internet and fled to the Free NH Goblin Hideout to confer with Comrade Omar and the Black Goblin, whom I haven't seen in a few weeks. While there, Comrade Omar keeps getting messages from Tia Stefanie. "She wants to know if you're here." "Ignore her." "Oh look", [reads stuff Female Comrade has written under my loveonthepicketlineagram, then turns to me and smiles]. "You're in like Flynn." Which was weird, because I was watching The Sea Hawk earlier in the week.
Anyway, stopped by the Comrades' on the way to work and Mrs. Comrade tells me that Female Comrade was talking about me all night. "Do you want to know what she said?" "No, no, well, okay, maybe one thing..." "She loves your 'dreamy Italian eyes.'" "I have 'dreamy Italian eyes'?" I ask, before I pass out.
After I come to, Mrs. Comrade congratulates me. "I wasn't going to say anything, but it was a pretty bold move. But you pulled it off. I wasn't sure whether she was going to like it or not." "Pfft. It couldn't have failed. How was she not gonna fall in love with a sexy commie with dreamy Italian eyes makin' a pass at her on Facebook via a victorious union rally video? She didn't have a chance." Mrs. Comrade gives me a look. "All right, don't let it go to your head, Casanova..." "Don Juan!" shouts out Mr. Comrade from the other room, "Don Juan de Doodlebug!"
Come home from work and find a series of private messages about her day ending with "You know what I hate? You working Sundays."
Talking on the phone was a lot more nervewracking, but even more exciting!
Man, I should've done this years ago!
Also tried reading Montaillou by Emile La Roi Ladurie, which was very dull indeed, unless you like reading about the daily lives of 13th Century Cathar Shepherds ** spoiler omitted ** Not a keeper.
One of the more useless "facts" that I have used to impress people with over the years is that the Britishiznoid term "bugger" is derived from "Bulgar" which was in reference to the Cathar Heresy.
I learned that from an introductory essay to my edition of Candide; if it isn't actually true, I don't wanna hear about it.
"Don Juan de Doodlebug" in another thread wrote:
Spent all day flirting with Female Comrade on Facebook.
Some of it was in private, much of it was public or in private threads with others.
Went over the Comrades' to plan our communist activity for the rest of the month and Mrs. Comrade 's all like "Look at you, Mr. Flirtypants!" I blush and ask "You think it's working?" "Ohmygod, how can you even ask? Where'd you get so good at that?" "I've been practicing for the last couple of years on Paizo."
Thank you, every Paizonian I have ever flirted with.
More paternal pride:
When the Hollaback! thread was going on, I was so enraged by that racist filth getting a pass that I went on an internal education drive about the racist history of feminism (suffragettes and white supremacy, rape culture and Emmett Till, Hollaback! and stop-and-frisk). I was so successful that both the Commandant and Mrs. Comrade (a former socialist-feminist who has been won over to the Marxist anti-feminist position thanks to years of dedicated struggle; I still remember the International Woman's Day a couple years ago where she yelled at me for suggesting that complimenting someone's hair at work wasn't an example of the sexist patriarchy in action) started posting on Facebook about the racist double standard in the Bill Cosby rape scandal, which, truth be told, made even me uncomfortable.
Regardless, in between the Day School and the after party, Mr. Comrade, the Commandant and I were undecided whether we were going to attend the latter and, as we milled about undecidedly, the Commandant sez:
"Well, we could always go find some women and catcall them."
Don Juan de Doodlebug wrote:
Finally got Comrade Omar and the Commandant together yesterday, and today I see the former giving the latter advice about affairs of the heart on Facebook.
Man, this organizing shiznit is easy.
There's a great big chunk about him on that BBC doc, The Century of the Self, that I've posted about here and there. It's pretty interesting. German commie thinking more orgasms are the key to human happiness. What a weirdo.
Also, there's that scene in Sleeper with Diane trying to get Woody in the orgasmatron.
And even though that one was famously done with Whitfield and Ashford and Simpson, etc., I still felt like a Magnetic Fields link:
EDIT: Actually, this one is worth cutting-and-pasting:
I met Ferdinand de Saussure on a night like this
We don't know anything
And we are nothing (woah-a-woah)
I'm just a great composer and not a violent man (clap clap clap)
We don't know anything
But we are nothing
His fading words were
We don't know anything
But we are nothing
Now, back to Marvin...
Had an epiphany at work today: If I could take the cocky, swaggering, falsely confident air that I use with bosses with women, I could probably get laid more. (Or ever.)
Epiphany led to two immediate projects I assigned myself in the spirit of Mr. Tofu's seduction guide from the Not All Kickstarters thread:
Project #1: Flirt with my unions sisters. Result: It's fun and they seem to like it.
Project #2: Overcome being uncomfortable when being touched by my union brothers, even if they are big, beefy Teamsters who look like Shrek. Result: Still slightly unsettling.
Slightly tempted to cross the Atlantic and nick Ms Roller-derby from under Comrade Anklebiter's mittens to demonstrate the need for decisive action is not just a thing in labour disputes.
She's single, available, and looking, gentlemen, but you'd have to be committed to living in the Bay Area if you want to keep her. I hear it's nice out there.
I've been entertaining the notion of trying to arrange a blind date between Ms. Roller Derby and my friend from Bobby Joe Ebola. He'd be right up her alley. (Hmmm, rather unfortunate choice of imagery.) But first I'd have to get in contact with him...
Haven't had a chance to reup my MP3 player in a while, so one of the albums that I've been listening to on repeat at work is The Jungle Brothers' J. Beez wit the Remedy. And, after a while, I started paying attention to the words, particularly on "Simple As That."
Then I went through the archives and re-looked at that Not All Kickstarters Are Worth Funding thread from a whiles back and compared it with me taking seven years to make out with Ariel the Sexy Roller Derby Chick.
There's gotta be some kind of happy medium.
In completely other news, despite a pretty awesome weekend of commie activism together, and Mr. Comrade making us watch movies about shy Chinese monks not being able to get with hawt Chinese demon slayers, and then making us watch "Do Communists Have Better Sex?," and then shouting out things like, "See? The party says sex is a moral good, everyone should have sex all the time," I didn't bang Female Comrade on their couch, although she advanced her flirtations from repeatedly touching my arm to touching my lap.
Also, I've noticed that I get really excited when women belittle me. I had never noticed that before.
Also, we've been hanging out with the Commandant of the Scottish Republican Army quite a bit. He's a nerdy, nerdy kid, still a virgin (we're assuming) who will tell us stories like, "Yeah, I really liked her, so I looked her address up in the phone book and wrote her a letter. She responded three months later with a letter saying, 'Don't ever contact me again.'"
So, anyway, we've been really talking Comrade Omar up to him, how they're both "sand brothers" (one of Comrade Omar's terms), telling him about Omar's shady past and how they should hang out so that Omar can teach him how to meet girls and get laid, etc.
We were driving down to Comrade Omar's picket line on Saturday, and all of a sudden, from the backseat, the Commandant blurts out, [high-pitched nerd voice] "I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet Omar!" (Hee hee! Omar wasn't there, but when I told him about it yesterday, he laughed and laughed.)
Later, at the picket line, the strikers were playing hacky sack and it was amusing to watch the Commandant give it the old college try even though he obviously had never played hacky sack, or anything remotely physical, before.
(I didn't even try. I have a Dexterity of 6.)
I recently got to cross something off my bucket list and that was to make out with Ariel the Sexy Roller Derby Chick. I've wanted to do that for, oh, seven years now, and it was just as awesome as I had always imagined!...even if she kept belittling me and telling me "You're doing it all wrong." Man, it was f!in' hawt!
She lives in the Bay Area now and comes back once a year or so. Last year, we had a pretty good time, but she kept talking about some dude named Nicky P., so I didn't make a move. And then, after she left, I realized, I know Nicky P! I've even met Nicky P! He's her gay friend who dragged her out to California in the first f$@&ing place! [Facepalm]
This year, she gets into town and takes me out. After three hours of her plying me with pumpkin-flavored alcoholic beverages, touching my arm repeatedly and then dragging me into a Hispanic karaoke bar for what I imagine must've been some of the worst Latin dancing the world has ever seen, I got the idea that maybe, just maybe, she wanted me to kiss her. Well, I was right. I'll spare you the gory details, but at some point she goes, "Oh Doodlebug, I would've made out with you last year!"
Anyway, the reason I'm not married is because I'm a big loser and have real problems recognizing when women are interested in me.
Anyway, Hama, life is too short! Don't be like Doodlebug! Go get a woman!
(I wonder if UPS will let me transfer out to the Bay Area...)
It's obviously going well for her, and that's something to respect, I guess. Is it wrong of me to say she seems like a nice girl under all that makeup and all these poses and lyrics?
Not at all.
(Hums to self)
Real country-ass [redacted], let me play with his rifle
[Redacted] put his ass to sleep, now he's calling me Nyquil
F~~%in' poetry, I tell ya.
Jezebel remembers intersectionality: A Hollaback Response Video: Women of Color on Street Harassment
Meanwhile over at The Intercept: No, We Don’t Need a Law Against Catcalling
"Feminists of color have long criticized Hollaback’s tactics for having precisely this effect, of casting black and brown men as congenital predators, thus perpetuating their criminalization (in a tradition going back hundreds of years). In New York, where the fight over stop-and-frisk is not over, such activism currently coincides with policing that punishes youth of color for dancing on the subway or uses bullhorns to shoo black students out of affluent Park Slope. Discussing the Hollaback video on his radio show, Geraldo Rivera asked Rudy Giuliani if it was proof of the city’s moral decay, with both men agreeing that street harassment should be seen as analogous to graffiti — a policing priority under New York Police Commander Bill Bratton. In the meantime, not far from where I live, a group of 'concerned residents, business owners, artists and civic croups' called Gowanus United is closing ranks around gentrifying spaces in the name of public safety, raising alarms against a parole complex slated to open next year 'within a half-mile radius' of 'our streets, buses and subways.'"
Obligatory word drop: Liberal, feminist, yuppie, gentrifier.
Tales from the Shop Floor
I didn't get a chance to mention it in the Street Harassment thread, alas, but today at work, I decided to ask my union sister, Female Teamster, what she thought about that Hollaback! video. She's a still blonde grandmother from hardscrabble Chelsea, Massachusetts, working class, good on race and and gay issues, a lifelong Democrat, unfortunately, but anyway, I thought she might have some unique insights into catcalling.
So I approached her outside the office.
"Hey, Renee, did you see that internet video about sexual harassment?"
Female Teamster, without missing a beat, smiled lasciviously and, I shiznit you not, waggled her eyebrows before replying, "What, you gonna ask me out?"
Then she laughed as I blushed.
That's not exactly shunning, though, is it?
Not that I'm saying they should be shunned (even if their apology was a little weak). And then, of course, there have been other things in the news this past year where Americans have felt free to say racist things but don't get shunned.
Citizen Watson wrote:
I think when its as extreme as shouting offensive things on the street, its generally not acceptable. The more subtle things like police aggression, unbalanced justice system, low expectations and 'doesn't fit the culture' not hirings are more of a problem precisely because they're not as blatant.
Of course, one of the purposes of this thread, I've gathered, is to teach the menfolk that more subtle expressions of sexual harassment, such as leering, saying "hey beautiful" or, according to some posters "hello" are equally unacceptable even though they are less blatant.