Under the pink... inlfluence

I have been a non-dress wearing, non-girly girl my whole life. I have always had Tonka trucks, played in the dirt, and fought with boys.

Well, I don't know what the hell happened to me, but in the last year or so, I can not get enough of the goddamned color pink. I never used to like pink. I have always been a purple girl (still am). Now I have about ten pink shirts, pink hand bags, pink lip gloss, pink nail polish, and I about flipped out when I saw iPods came in pink. I wish my cell phone was pink.

Watch out, because this template may be pink soon.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

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I hate when people state the glaringly obvious.

In further proof that I am the clumsiest jackass on Earth, I spilled fucking Diet Coke syrup on my shirt YET AGAIN changing the soda machine at work. You'd think I would learn how to open it away from me, seeing as how I've spilled about five times. But, I never learn anything. EVER.

Every dumbass person in my office said the same thing: "Did you spill something on your shirt?"

No, you fucking moron. This pink (see, I told you - it's a sickness) shirt comes with these sticky brown spots all over it. FUCK OFF YOU STUPID TWIT.

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In the little neighborhood I work in, there are a few homeless people that hang around all the time. I see them everyday, and I have made up names for them based on what they look like. There's The Star, so named because she wears her sunglasses at all times, and wears this blanket around her arms and shoulders like it's a mink stole. Then there's Bozo, who has a clown face sans makeup, if that makes sense (I hate Bozo because I am afraid of clowns like nobody's fucking business. I would rather run through the streets of Iraq naked singing "Jesus loves me, yes I know" than have a clown around me). There's The Stud, who is far too attractive to be homeless. It's scary because he's not much older than me - I would guess about 35 or 36, maybe. And, finally, there's Florida Evans, my favorite. She looks EXACTLY like the mom on "Good Times," and she's the only one I talk to. She calls me Precious, or Baby Girl (she calls everyone Precious, but I prefer to think that *I* am the real precious one).

Florida is the only one I never see hanging out with any of the other homeless. Like she's too good to be associated with them, or something. She spends most of her time in the shopping center I go to pretty regularly, since it has the store I buy my lunches at a lot, and Starbucks (I am an iced vanilla latte whore), where I go almost every day. She is a trip to talk to. She is funny, and completely bonkers. She says shit that blows my mind sometimes, which is why I keep talking to her.

Today, I was buying stuff for our Friday lunch (we have free lunch on Fridays, and I am the lowly loser who gets to coordinate it), and Florida was sitting outside the Starbucks drinking coffee.

"Hey, Precious! Come here, baby girl!"
"Hey, Florida. What's going on today?"
"Precious, I got in an accident today taking my kids to school. Some fool ran a red light and ran right smack into my car. I wasn't hurt none, but my car's ruint."

Yeah, she said 'ruint.'

"Did you get his license plate number? You have insurance, right?"
"Baby girl, do you think I would drive without having insurance on my car?"
"That's a good point, Florida."
"Baby girl, you know who I saw today?"
"No, who?"
"Ronald Reagan! RONALD REAGAN!"
"Wow, Reagan was in the Village? That's incredible. Well, I have to get some stuff at Trader Joe's. I'll see you later, ok?"
"Baby girl!"
"Yeah?"
"Don't tell no one I saw Ronald Reagan. They're already looking for me. I don't need no more trouble from them."
"Who's looking for you?"
"You know... them." And then she leaned in and whispered, "Hoover and his men. They're all looking for me."

I looked at her for a second, perplexed.

"J. Edgar Hoover?"
"Yes."
"Why is the FBI looking for you?"
"Baby girl, now you know I can't tell you that. I don't want them coming after you, too."
"Alright, Florida. Your secret's safe with me. You want me to get you something at the store?"
"No, no, Precious. I am on a diet!"

I love her.