I caption this story in a strictly figurative sense. As you read each post I bless you with, you should pretty much always have some Michael Jackson song playing in your head (unless I tell you otherwise) -- even if its the shit that Rhianna copped from "Wanna Be Startin' Something."
That being said, I think its safe to say that everyone in my crib(okay, just my roommate/mother and myself) are still very upset about the passing of the world's most gifted musician, activist, anti-litterer, half-ponytail, khaki-skinned man, ever. Sometimes I kid myself, that, you know, I'm way over it and I'm so fine, but then I hear "Earth Song" and I just breakdown, tear up and curse myself for losing sight of Michael's lyrics as I emptied the trash in my car on the side of the road just 2 minutes before. Michael makes me a better person.
I know I've been talking alot about him lately (do I capitalize "him" . . . ?) but I guess when it comes down to it, I'm still mourning. Even though I'm not eastern European or British or involved in any charity work like H/he was, its rocked me to the core. I will not apologize for it, nor will I make excuses, just come on, rock with me.
Okay, fuck it, so we're back. You know I listen to "M.I.T.M." on my way to work, right? That shit has already saved my life oncee, and, to be frank, given the fact that I am a complete jackass on the road and people in Durham are most likely carrying illegal weapons, I don't want to take any chances. So, lemme try to reel this shit in, I wouldn't want to pull a Charles Dickens, after all.
To jog your memory (not that you need it, I know) I overheard my best friend talking shit all up on her Motorola RAZR about my parking next to her, and I was crushed. Like, normally I would have just given up -- I have like millions of friends, and its not like she'd make the cut to be seen in public with anyway, but it would be nice to have a friendly smile in the parking lot as we both walk in, or a hearty laugh at one of my jokes, or even a hug on the elevator would be enough to make my day. So sue me, I love a good hug. I don't even have the time to get started on the biscuit family recipe she's probably guarded for years -- yes, all that would/should be at my fingertips. Alas, nothing has worked and I couldn't figure out where to go next. I was angry, then in denial, then sad, then flippant. Trust, it is torture to semi-experience emotion of any kind.
I thought and decided that for some reason, Shirley was sent to my life. There was a purpose for her to appear before me and leave footprints on my heart, right? I mean, one thing's for sure, since I first tried to take a picture of her tights and socks and sneakers on that warm summer day, my life has never been the same. So I kept on, and as I was pulling into my spot, it occurred to me. I didn't want to make her mad, or cause her any worry that I was scuffing her candy paint job as I recklessly opened my car doors. So I looped around and pulled in right in the facing spot. The noses/front fenders/whatever of our cars were almost (but not quite) touching. I mean, I didn't want her to think I'd lost best friend interest, after all.
Yes, I know, pure genius. Talk about killing two birds with one stone! I sauntered into work re-confirming the recommendation for my skipping first grade wasn't wasted -- I still had it, intellectually, and in every other way one can!
I know what you're thinking, that this story can't get any better, right? I'm totes sitting on top of the world (cue Brandy before she vehicular man-slaughtered someone & Mase before he released a gospel rap album), but, oh, it gets better.
Fast forward to the next morning, I had gotten to work on time, but was in my car responding to a few late night texts I had receive the night before. Homegirl wasn't yet at work -- I surmised she probably had to take her babies to get a vaccination or a flu shot or something; Measles and/or H1N1 is no joke, y'all. And then I heard her driving in. The bass from what I'm positive is a factory audio system was loud and proud and she pulled right in to her normal spot. I was still texting and obvi listening to M.I.T.M. (should be a given) when she gets out of the car and makes sure she has activated (at my last count) 3 alarms. As she walks past she stops a bit right near my window . . . she was so close, I could literally reach out and touch her! As I was debating on the pros and cons of doing such an act she kind of leans over and says . . .
Girl, tell me that isn't the 'Rock My World' remix with Michael Jackson & Jay Z!
And obvi it was, so I nodded in sheer awe to her query and she walked off while muttering something like "Mmm, that's (or dat's) my song!" and I sat there, realizing that I not only had made my best friend's day, but am one step closer to having, in my possession, a 3x5 index card that reads: "Southern Biscuits, From the Kitchen of Shirley," and a new soul mate all up in my life.
Thank you Jesus, and, of course, Michael Jackson.