Act Right

Stylistic MF ...
I've heard of women that act like that ... All persistent & competitive.

It's an interesting concept. Can't say I can relate.

Denmark Vesey said ...
Women act ... the way they are compelled to act.


BEING DENMARK VESEY
I'm sittin' in a little cafe drinking a gunpowder green tea, minding my business and laughing at Stylistic MF's dismantling of DMG. There's an east Asian looking woman sitting across from me on her cell phone engaged in a very heated conversation in a language I don't recognize. It might be Farsi. Yeah, I'm sure it is. Cool. I make a mental note to tell her to Big Ups Ahmadinejad for me. I read on the blog where Stylistic MF says to DMG: "I don't know how this computer works either, but it's sure been effective in delivering messages to you." I laugh out loud. At which point Mrs. Iran turns to me, smiles and while covering the microphone of her cellphone, makes a writing motion with her right hand and says in the most pleasant British accent "... pardon me, may I borrow a pen?". Damn. This chick is strikingly feminine. Before I even have a chance to process, I simultaneously smile, nod my head and say "Yes" in my most assuring tone. As she turns back to her conversation, I start to pattin' my pockets, looking around my laptop and digging through my briefcase. Shit. I aint got no damn pen. Aint this a bitch? I done already told this woman "no problem. I got you." Shit. I dig through my brief case again. All I find is a broken green crayon. My daughter gotta stay out of my case. This is getting embarrassing. Shit. Maybe this crayon will work for her I think to myself. Nah. Don't do that. I get up and walk over to the people at the cash register. I cut in line and interrupt their transaction . "Uh ... excuse me. " The hippie looking white boy looks up. "My man. Let me a borrow a pen." He looks at me blankly then says: "I'm sorry. We only have one."... Aint this a bitch. Mike Fisher might be right about that "Global System of White Supremacy" after all, I think to myself. Muhfuggah probably got a case of Uniballs right next to the register. I imagine ol' girl is on the phone with the Iranian embassy advising them on their nuclear negotiations with the NWO. I gotta get her pen now. I go back to the table grab my keys and head out the front door. Thank God the whip is parked right out front. Beep Beep. I unlock the doors and dig through the console looking for a pen. CDs. Plastic straw. Ballet slippers. One boxing shoe. Pistol. Clip. Cookie crumbs. A book on WWII. Compass. About $6.40 in change on the floor. No pen... Aint this a bitch? I'm invested now. I close the door and pop the trunk. I see one of my son's old book bags. I dump it out on the floor of the trunk. Protractor. Notebook. A sandwich bag of unidentified crumbs. Boom! A pen falls out. I grab it and look at it. Shit. This aint no pen. It's a mechanical pencil. Fuck. They still using mechanical pencils in this day and age? Well whatever. Later for this chick now. I gettin' tired of this shit. She probably a terrorist anyway. I slam the trunk and walk back into the cafe. Half-way mad at this point. I walk over to her table where she is still engaged in her conversation. She sees me, and immediately says into her phone "pardon me for a moment" in Farsi. She looks up and smiles warmly. She is aware of the theatrics I just put myself through on her behalf and seems genuinely appreciative. She says "Thank you ... so much. I didn't mean to trouble you so ...". Shit. I'm damn near blushing now. Girl got game. "Nah. Nah it's cool. No problem. No problem at all".

Men act the way they are compelled to act too.