Hammy Sammy
Last night while waiting for the TRAX, I realized that this kind and soft-spoken man next to me had Tourette's. One would have never guessed until this nice man looked straight across the street and screamed "How do we get them to shut up? SHUT UP YOU SICK SON OF A B**** C*** S***** A**HOLES!" This took a bum by surprise, because the bum shouted, "Are you talking to ME? ARE YOU?" Oh dear. Poor man. It must be so hard to deal with your whole life. I noticed he got on the train very quickly and went to the far back corner. I remember this wonderful convert in our ward when I was just starting young women. He was the most amazing opera singer...he could kick Bocelli's butt. Well...he had Tourette's and would always sit in the back of sacrament meeting. In the middle of the silence of the talks you would hear him break out in curse words. I wonder if someone grows up without hearing ANY cursing or thigns of the like if they would just shout out other random words in outbreaks.
Then I transfered to the University Line train. This black guy was eyeing me up [hey, they like the curves]. He started mumbling and asking me questions. He was a nice guy, but I always have my guard up around black men [it's not a prejudice...it's past experience. I don't do it around all, just around the ones who are staring me up and down.] Anyway he was asking about me, why I moved, where I work, etc. He moved here from L.A a few years back. He was asking me the questions I expected...do I have a husband, boyfriend, or kids...he has two daughters, both with different mommies. Then he said "I work for Honey-Baked Ham". He had an apron on, so I assumed it was a company. I said, "Oh, you do?" He looked at me and grinned..."I sure do!" as he checked me out.
Ewe.
But I had to laugh at how retarded I was for not getting it at first. :) And it IS amusing. So my rear is officially a fine honey-baked ham. Nice. I always knew the booty was hot. ;) Hahah.
Then we had a conversation about the gospel. Pretty random but nice to talk about in SLC. I find that when I am around 'normal' people...that have a pack of smokes in their front pocket or their ear pierced or have tattoos...I feel almost relieved. It's like back home. It's the 'normal' world. It's diversity. It's opportunity. Being surrounded totally by LDS people almost all the time is wonderful, but somewhat unfulfilling. I most definitely won't die in Utah, that's for sure [meaning, I am not living here forever]. I love it here, and I realize there is a mission field here too, but living here can be overwhelming, mundane, or empty at times. I feel like the 'real' world views me as just another LDS. I don't like that. I like to be a light.
Then I transfered to the University Line train. This black guy was eyeing me up [hey, they like the curves]. He started mumbling and asking me questions. He was a nice guy, but I always have my guard up around black men [it's not a prejudice...it's past experience. I don't do it around all, just around the ones who are staring me up and down.] Anyway he was asking about me, why I moved, where I work, etc. He moved here from L.A a few years back. He was asking me the questions I expected...do I have a husband, boyfriend, or kids...he has two daughters, both with different mommies. Then he said "I work for Honey-Baked Ham". He had an apron on, so I assumed it was a company. I said, "Oh, you do?" He looked at me and grinned..."I sure do!" as he checked me out.
Ewe.
But I had to laugh at how retarded I was for not getting it at first. :) And it IS amusing. So my rear is officially a fine honey-baked ham. Nice. I always knew the booty was hot. ;) Hahah.
Then we had a conversation about the gospel. Pretty random but nice to talk about in SLC. I find that when I am around 'normal' people...that have a pack of smokes in their front pocket or their ear pierced or have tattoos...I feel almost relieved. It's like back home. It's the 'normal' world. It's diversity. It's opportunity. Being surrounded totally by LDS people almost all the time is wonderful, but somewhat unfulfilling. I most definitely won't die in Utah, that's for sure [meaning, I am not living here forever]. I love it here, and I realize there is a mission field here too, but living here can be overwhelming, mundane, or empty at times. I feel like the 'real' world views me as just another LDS. I don't like that. I like to be a light.