I'd hit dat! A day of douchebags.

The other day when a friend of mine, a very good friend, mind you. Texted me a reply to a picture that he had seen of me.

"You look GREAT! I'd Hit that!"

And just like that *snap your fingers here* I was transported to a land of anger, self righteousness and as usual ...questions.

Our  conversation went as follows:

"Why do you speak like that to me?"

"Huh?"

"That is disrespectful."

"No it is not!"

"What, pray tell, would you hit? Why? And with what?"

"It is a saying! People say that!"

"Uneducated people?"

"NO!"

"Oh....retarted people then."

"Don't bust my balls about it. Jesus Christ. FINE, You look horrible. Terrible."

"Oh shut up. You know you want to fuck me."

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Yeah. But you said it like a douchebag...and plus...I can't believe you said FINE like a woman."

"Jesus Christ."



Later that day, while driving home I heard it again. Driving slowly down the pockmarked streets of West Side Modesto. Inhaling deeply in the Ganja part of town, muttering to my self that I didn't inhale (much) and slowing even more for a stray dog limping across my pink lashed vehicle, there was a woman, pushing a stroller.

I'd say she was 20 but in Meth head years that is more like 45.

She was pushing her toddler, twitching ever so nicely, when a man across the street yelled to her. "OH yeah momma. I'd hit DAT!"

I slowed down even more to watch what she would do.

She turned her stroller, smiled widely and approached the man to flirt with him.

Really?

That is all it takes now? "I'd fuck you?"

Well gee... thank you very much. You would also fuck your hand, that goat... and a hole in the fence if someone spat on it.

I cannot blame men.

If it works, then good for them.

I want to know why women as a whole is even allowing those words to be muttered to them. Have some respect...even YOU crack head.

Later that night I was throwing baby FatFat in the air and blowing on his fatfat tummy. He was smiling at me in an "Im sorta scared" way when Dawn asked me to help her find a photo of her Dad.

We sat on her bed, laughing at Spencer, digging through years and years of snapshots, school photos and baby pictures.

I loved it.

I was putting photographs into piles. The DAD file. The Dawn DINGA file and the pile that I wanted to take home and put on my fridge.

Jesse came in and sat on the bed. I showed him some teenage pictures of Dawn.

He held it in his hand, stared at it and he said "MMMMM I'd hit DAT!"

Dawn screamed "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!" and smacked him with a stack of photographs. (But as she did it, her freckles popped with happiness, and her eyes lit up with love.)

I sighed, smacked Jesse, pinched his left nipple and kept on flipping.

"Bitches be crazy" He said as he left the room.