jersey city: a fine place to raise a family

Today on my way home from the gym I stopped off at my favorite fruit and veg store in McGinley Square. On my way back to my apartment, a few people passing by in their cars apparently decided that I might also want to enjoy their musical selections. It's not unusual, of course. The weather gets nice and a few things happen: I can see the bras of most of the women I walk by on the street, the "ay mami"s increase exponentially and car windows stay down, music stays up.

But today among the usual garbage that gets blared out was something very loud and very clearly spoken (which is unusual) about somebody doing something to somebody's pussy.

Ex-squeeze me?

I don't really give a flying crap what you do with your own or someone else's pussy in your free time, people. I really do not. But can I not hear about it? From the over-priced stereo in your gold Toyota Corolla? While you lick your lips at me and I fight off the urge to vomit violently on a public street corner? Can I not? Please?

There were children on the street during said swear-word drive-by, but in this neighborhood it probably doesn't matter. Chances are they were singing along. And they know the dance from the music video. And it's their ring tone. And it's the song that played at their kindergarten graduation.


cheers,
elizabeth