Cheeky Bastards

You know you are in a good place emotionally, spiritually, and mentally when a car load of little thugs rolls up on you and you get your ass slapped while bicycling down International Avenue.

I was pedaling my ass off, but not in that kind of way.

I had gotten a roll by, and I do believe it was from the same car with a voice extolling my beauty and sexiness and blah, blah, blah, just get me through the next light and I am cool, ignore it, it will go away.

They usually do.

These little fuckers though, they must have went around the block and circled back, right past where El Gordo Taco truck plies its trade-off of High Street and International.

I was deep in thought, just a few blocks from the turn off to Graceland, messenger bag full of groceries from a quick pit stop to the Whole Foods in Oakland by Lake Merrit, planning out my strategy of attack for tomorrow’s nanny gig.

I have three babies tomorrow.

Three.

And every one of them is going to need a place to nap.

Normally one of the babies, my little elf girl, is brought over after nap time, but not tomorrow, nope, she’s getting a drop off two hours earlier than I normally have her.

If you don’t hear from me until after tomorrow night at 6 pm assume I am drowning in babies.

Juggling two is challenging, having three is a total body work out.

And my body must be looking good, despite my brain trying to tell me the opposite.

In no particular order I was whistled at, hollered at, barked at (yes, I mean does that even count as a cat call?) I was called beautiful from the side walks, street corners, bus stops, and out of car windows.

And yes, my ass was slapped.

I mean I cannot even be mad about it.

Fact is, I have pondered doing the same thing to other people before.

When Calvin and I were in a hanging out a lot phase of our friendship before he opened the salon up, we went through a huge spate of scooter riding.

He was crazy on that scooter, he probably still is, weaving in and out, ducking into the bike lane, squeezing between cars, I was always praying not to fall off or pee my pants.

I was also high on the exhilaration of speed and adrenalin.

I had often joked about smacking somebody on the ass, some hipster with a kryptonite hanging off his skinny ass, I never did, but man it was tempting.

And I have an ass, I have a bicycle bum, I ride my bike a lot and when I am not riding it I am walking.

Not having a car helps develop leg muscles, dontcha know.

The little hellions at least beeped at me.

I heard the car coming and it honked and I thought I was getting honked at for taking up too much of the lane.  In hindsight, I think they were giving me a warning, “here we come lady, watch your back.”

I could feel the car getting close, a lot closer than I felt comfortable with, then…

SMACK!

“Fuck you!”

I shouted, and flipped them off, but I had a smile on my face, I could not help it, the rear window full of grinning faces all watching me and smiling and waving at me and whistling.

I normally would not put up with it, but the fucking pure audacity made me smile, and yes, I do think it’s funny.

I can’t even get up a good head of steam over it.

I guess that means I am in a pretty good mood.

And I am.

I have been abstinent in my food, I have been working, I got a mani/pedi yesterday as my treat after the long week of being in San Francisco, I am absolutely loving my hair, it’s not been this long in years, and yeah, it’s a simple thing, but I do feel that there have been times when I was mistaken for being a little light in the loafers with the faux hawks and short shaved hair styles.

I am all woman and ready to be dating some men.

Not, perhaps the Buick full of boys that blew past me on International, but hey, you know, today I will take it as a compliment, I looked good, I look good.

I don’t feel like the kids were being malicious, just, well kids, out cruising.

If they had been older I might have gotten freaked out.

Then again, I don’t believe an older set of men, would have done that.

I am not, however, condoning getting slapped on the ass again in my commute.

Once was enough.

Good enough for a story, I don’t need to build a chapter around it.

In other things bicycle, I got the log in information to order through the bike shops distributor, I am aching to get my paws in there and get the few things I want to get for my playa bike ordered and taken care of.

Hmm, Burning Man, may be the only other place I would accept a spanking on my bicycle while riding it.

Be that as it may, I am itchy to go flit through the website.

I have a budget and I should be able to adhere nicely to it since I am ordering at cost and not retail.

Yay.

Aside from that not much else to report.

Lots of nannying this week and just taking the next steps in front of me.

And doing it while looking hella sassy.

It has been confirmed.

Amply.

Tags: bicycle commute, bicycling, burning man, car load, cat call, East Oakland, International Avenue, Nanny, Oakland, postaday, taco truck