"Accept Your Destiny" and other Friday moments

Me - the killer of romantic dreams

I guess you want to know what my title is all about. Well, most of you know I seem to attract the nutters of the universe. Most of you also know that I seem to attract the Nigerians of London. You also know I am not a fan of Nigerian men. Too aggressive. Too annoying.

Today.

Get on the train to Tesco. Dude staring at me like I am a piece of sausage. Avert my annoyed gaze before I burn a hole into his skull. Get off the train. Go to the store. Lo and behold, look who followed me in. I say nothing. Pasta aisle. Bread aisle. Me - feeling up some bagels. Suddenly.  Next to me - Mr Special.

"My sister, we were on the train togeda".

Nothing makes my blood boil more than this my sister dotishness. I don't care if it's sista or sister - it's annoying. And what? Because I shared a train ride with you, you must follow me? WTF! I was NOT impressed. My response? "So?" and a bad Trini cut eye. My brother got the message and he was gone.

So I text my friend, Nicole, and she replies with no sympathy

Accept your destiny! LOL.
The other winning moments/thoughts of today

On the train  to Waterloo, I had the misfortune of sitting in the cabin with the chatty teenagers and worse, the bawling baby. I always seem to end up in the cab with the noisiest passengers, hence the reason I walk with my music at all times. But let me now adjust my description of this child. He was not just bawling...he was a bleedin' nightmare. The child, no lie, was straight out of The Exorcist. This child could not have been more than 2 years old, and he was bawling at the very top of his lungs, then he started slapping himself. This continued for about 15 minutes without any signs that this child was going to stop. I felt sorry for the mother, who tried everything - toys, food, soft talk. Nothing. I was wondering if anyone else was annoyed by this Child of Chucky because noone seemed to be perturbed as I certainly was. Until...

This no older than 2 year old child said "F... You" to his mother. I thought I had heard wrong but then I saw the woman in the corner rise from her seat, then the granny on the other side, then the man in front of me and the chatty teenagers' eyes opened wide like two saucers. I turned around to see the red-faced, self-mutilated little boy still bawling and all the eyes in the cabin on an equally red-faced mother. I could not believe it. The Exorcist was an understatement. This child was posssessed. Clearly he hears the profanity from somewhere but to use it like that was really shocking to me.

Then, with the exception of myself and my Trini friends and Cat, do all black women in London wear weaves? Oh.My.God. I got on the train first to London Victoria and then to my Tesco and then the bus to my house, and there was an assortment of fake hair surrounding me. Not saying Trini women do not wear weaves, but the proliferation of the bag-hair in this city is mind boggling to me. Somewhere in London, there is a group of black hairdressers making a killing off false pride and vanity. Hairlines across London are in dire straits from the strain of Indian Remy hair on the scalps of black women.

Then, before heading to Tesco, I needed to use the bathroom desperately. After my stunning lunch, with my equally stunning lunch date, and the huge cup of coffee I had afterwards, my bladder could not take the stress and I was forced to use...wait for it...a train station loo. I did not know WHAT I was gonna meet, but I certainly did not expect to meet a toilet wrapped in caution tape. I kid you not. CAUTION TAPE. If that does not tell you something....lol.

And as an aside, lunch was awesome. :-)