Jiga Who? Jiga WHAAAA!!!

I can't believe I forgot to post this. I was working a temp job at Allied Waste Management (BFI). There was an older gentleman named John who sat one cubicle away from me. Our cubicles went almost to the ceiling, so I rarely got to see John's face. There was a young 22/23 year old girl who worked part-time as the front receptionist when not working customer relations. When I first started working there, something struck me as a little odd. It seemed that everyone had a fish tank on their desk, working filter/air bubbler, various tank decorations and a live fish. Well John's Birthday was that week (July 24'th, I remember because that's my Dad's as well). So, the receptionist girl got John a Siamese fighting fish (a.k.a Betta) for his birthday. I guess it was an attempt to get him to fit in with the rest of the fish crew.

He was a dark fish, almost blue-black, elegant. This beautiful tortured soul was destined to live out his life in a glass bubble, subject to warped giants repeatedly thumping against his glass house, calling out his name. When I heard his name, I about damned near fucking fell over.

The young girl, we'll call Cindy, had stopped by John's desk to see how the new fish was enjoying his new home. That's when I heard the two of them, singing out loud in unison, "JIGABOO! Hey Jigaboo! Who's a good jigaboo?" My mouth hit the floor.

I commented over John's cubicle, "what did you guys just say?" Cindy said, "it's the fish's name, Jigaboo." I let out a loud, "what! I can't believe you're saying that out loud!" Brilliant Cindy came over to my cubicle. She says, "what's wrong with Jigaboo!?!" I said, "you need to stop saying that out loud. I don't think you know what it means." She said, "I know what it means, do YOU?" I said, "well then tell me what you think it means." Cindy says, "it's from that John Brown song, 'Jigaboo'. Get it? J.B.? Jiga-Boo?" I was like, "no, it's a derogatory racial slur towards blacks. It's like screaming "Jungle Bunny," "Spade" or "Coon". You might as well be screaming Nigger. She looks at me like I'm a complete moron. In her best Rosie Perez voice, she says "don't even start with that racist stuff, my best friend is Puerto Rican." I said, "it doesn't matter if you're racist or not, you can't keep saying it because it's insulting, disparaging, extremely offensive and inappropriate in the workplace." Cindy cracks a half-smile and says in a "you're too old to know what's cool anymore" tone, "Uh, no it doesn't." With that she walks away. Meanwhile, the older guy, John, who's cubicle abuts mine, is completely quiet. I was really pissed at him because he knew better. I don't know if he thought it was funny to watch this stupid little white girl sing up and down the hallway, "Jigaboo!" or if he thought it was OK to say such shitty things at work. What an asshole.

Minutes later, Cindy returns to my desk. She's sucking on a lollipop now. She looks like a BRATZ doll. She reveals to me that she went upstairs to one of the older ladies to ask her what it meant. The older woman, also, damned near fell out of her chair. She told Cindy that although the word is hardly used anymore because it is a racial slur, but confirmed that it is in fact, a racial slur. Cindy didn't admit she was wrong, she just said that it's a song, and that's not how she meant it. As if she used the *N-WORD* with an "aaa" ending, like "Nigga". Alright Dog, it's different coming from a white honkey ass, jive turkey. Knock it off crack-ahs.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I know, it's been a long assed time since I posted. Upon the urging of my fans, I broke down. Not much new to report. My elbow is still KILLING me, can you believe it? I've asked my sister to ask Debbie for some PT exercises to rehab myself back to norm. No response yet, HINT-HINT. I took my dog to the vet the other day, and he now weighs in at 122.6 lbs. He's getting a cute little pooch, but he's not fat by any means. He finally has some meat on his bones. Which reminds me of the car ride we just had. Dave was driving the peee-cup truck, Courage in the middle, and myself on the end. Friggin' dog was everywhere, he's so big, he has to rest his head on the dash. He was in his seat, and half of mine. If we were charging fare, we'd have to stick him with the fat guy fare for two seats, 'cause his fat ass doesn't fit in just one seat. Anyhoo, back to my lap: if I were to strip down, you would see my body is covered in paw sized bruises, which are about the diameter of a coke can. Maybe it's just me, but have you ever notice when a cat walks across your lap, the surprising amount of weight their little paws apply to your thigh? I guess it's the equivalent of a woman in stiletto heels, right? All of that weight concentrated into one little paw? Well, my damned dog thinks he can walk all over me like a little kitty. That brings me to another random thought. The other day while watching my stolen cable tv, I saw "Catwoman." Oh, Halle Berry was so full of herself in that flick, it was sick. I do have to say though, she's not afraid to look ugly or make ugly faces (please see Julianne Moore in Nine Months). Brava!