After my night out with Meesh and friends on Saturday, I came home super late and ready to snooze. Upon exiting the cab, some sketchy dudes in an SUV were trying to flirt with me (yes, vehicular flirting, my favorite) and when I ignored them, they called me a tranny. Hot mess, yes, but tranny? The nerve! To avoid further annoyance, I popped into our neighborhood safe haven - the corner store - for a quick snackie and some kindness from our favorite deli workers. Snackie in hand, I went home.
And what to my wondering eyes did appear? Our neighborhood drug dealer, red eyes glowing in the mirror! No need to worry about safety, dear readers… "sources" say Marco* "only" deals in "mild" drugs, and he's never been anything but friendly to me, despite the fact that I always rebuff his offers for "goodies." I think the hardcore drug lords at the crack dealerships have tarnished his sterling reputation by association - despite the rather telling fact that he actually does deal in illegal substances. He seems like a nice fellow with excellent customer service skills.
"Hey, Ma. How you been?" he said to me. He always calls me Ma.
"Doing well, thanks for asking," I replied.
He held the door for me, always the gentleman. I always found it odd that he doesn't live here and yet is always here, but I've grown accustomed to his presence.
"Oh, hey Ma, wait a sec," he called to me. I paused. "I just wanted to thank you for turning me on to Melissa."
I scrunched my nose. "Who?"
"Melissa, from Goldman-Sachs. Man, she's a great customer! Just wanted to thank you for sending her my way!"
I raised one eyebrow a la Hope Williams Brady from Days of Our Lives. "Um… I'm pretty sure that was not me."
He just laughed, "Yeah, yeah it was, Ma."
"No, no really, trust me, it really wasn't. I totally hate drugs, haha. Just say no, I always say. Hugs not drugs," I babbled, nervously laughing. Real cool, B.A.A. Nice and smooth.
And then I thought, crap, I just told the neighborhood drug dealer that I hate drugs. Now he's going to think I'm a narc and all the druggies are going to point and laugh at the Hugs Not Drugs girl. I lamely covered with, "Perhaps it was Mildred*. I don't know anyone at Goldman-Sachs. Um, err, sorry! K, bye! Nighty-night!"
Keep in mind I've maybe had one conversation with this guy in 1.5 years and yet he recalls me recommending drug consumers to him. Must be all the drugs messing with his head. Anyway, if I end up in jail, please bail me out!