The Racist Chicken…

(A diary post from Jan-23-2011)

  I woke up and dragged my head along with me to the bathroom…

  Not quiet a happy picture in you mind is it? Headless body dragging said decapitant behind it along the hardwood floors, passing the threshold of gray marble into a sea of 1950’s Mi Mi Pink tile…

  After leaving the bathroom, I lumbered my way down stairs to make NM breakfast before he had to go to work. Fried roots drowned in chicken fetus, smothered in tomato blood, with roasted wheat seed on the side. In other words, I made fried potatoes, scrambled egg with ketchup on top, and a slice of toast.

  We needed groceries so he went to the store and picked up more potatoes, bananas, eggs, and chicken parts, then he headed off to work. I put the food away, and then proceeded to bag the chicken. Dividing the breasts and legs into meal sized serving bags, and then placing them in the freezer. The cool lifeless meat slid into the bags with a soft wet plop.

  Memories of working at the dreaded chicken factory came back to haunt me. The cold of the factory room, the smell of bleach in the air, as well as on me, and the others I worked with. Bundled up in layers the cold still seeped through, due to the bleach water we had to splash on our aprons, arms & gloves. Passing though the hanging plastic barrier and into the giant fridge like room. Hundreds of people from the Marshallese Islands, Mexico, and South America, and just a handful of White Americans. The people lined up next to, and manned the machines, that chugged and churned out chicken parts. Steam rose from the floor as hot water was being sprayed on it, this was to remove any parts that had fallen, and knock them into the open grates. The steam wafted up smelling of warm chicken fat and bleach. My place was on a grate turning chicken legs so that the meat could be removed from the bones. Turn, "pop" turn, "pop", the sound of the bone knuckle in the machine’s knuckle as it turned. My only joy was the little old Hispanic woman who stood next to me, she would periodically poke me and say "Chica Buena, Buena Chica!" I remember one of the women I was carpooling with had told me not to apply for a job in that part of the factory, "All of the weirdos work over there!"  (I.E. Weirdos were non white people, she was very racist, tough I didn't know it at the time.) I thought, "Hmm OK", but I got that job anyways due to there were no jobs available where she was working at. Unknowingly I was actually working with the normal people. All of the weirdos, and drug addicts, like the woman whom I was carpooling with, were working in the other section. I thankfully, was not. 

  Differences might ruffle your feathers at times, but don’t sit there and pluck at other people. No one likes to be Hen pecked. Racism, often we lose our heads over it.

Anne

Tales from "The Hole."

 Episode 1. 
Oct-14-2012

  So Curt, from down the hall, let a guy in the building claiming to be from The City Of Rochester. Said he was from Gas and Electric Supply. So my neighbor told him how many people live in the building upstairs and dow, and where our apartments are. I heard this from down the hall, I called RGE so fast, letting them know some phony was in our building asking to see our bills. These people do this so they can steal our info and codes so they can switch us to “Their Companies” supplier. So I informed another tenant, Cat Lady, when she asked me about it. After I talked with her, we went upstairs to confront him. He had already talked to another tenant, Loud Music Guy, and had moved on down the hall to Baby Mama. When I told him I was on the phone with RGE right now and that we weren’t going to show him our bills for him to cheat us. He got really nasty with me and up in my face and said; “Did I knock on your door, have I asked you anything?”  I replied; “Not at the moment but you were making your rounds.” I asked to see his credentials, he would flash them but wouldn’t let me read them. Cat Lady and I informed him we wanted him out of the building, and then she said she was calling the police. Which she did. I’ve dealt with these people before at the last place we lived. Weather cools down they come out, like vampires in the night, to suck the money out of your wallet. There is a reason you can’t get into our building without a key. We don’t want freaks like him coming in and trying to steal from us. Curt has already let someone he doesn’t know into his apartment, and they robbed him a couple of weeks ago. That and Baby Mama is always letting her weird people in the building, and now some of them have keys. I am not afraid to kick someone out of my home. Trying to see my Gas bill, if he was legit, he would know to see my Gas bill, he would have to go see my Land Lord. Cause "We", the people of this Hovel, only pay for electric, gas and water are included in the rent. TUNE IN FOR THE NEXT WEIRD INSTALLMENT. SAME CRAZY-TIME, SAME CRAZY-BUILDING.

Episode 2. 
Oct-18-2012

So I was sleeping peacefully… As peacefully as you can when fire sirens are going off a couple of blocks away. You know, the usual city sounds at 7am. When I hear a loud knock on my apartment door. I get up and go to the door, fighting to get the fan out of the way, I say; “Just a minute.” Curt, from down the hall replies, “OK!” I unlock the door locks and say hello and ask what he needs. He replies, “I keep hearing this peeking sound and I don’t smell any smoke.” I not very awake at the moment, and plus it is hard to understand what he says sometimes with his poor enunciation. I asked him to repeat himself in the only way a half awake person can, “I’m sorry What?” “I hear a peeking sound in my apartment but I don’t smell any smoke.” He said again. I, believing he is referring to the the sirens going off a couple of blocks down, tell him, "The fire is a ways away don't worry about it." He thanks me and goes back in his apartment. I go and lay back down. Then I hear it… His “Peeking” sound…I know exactly what it is, perfect description of the sound it makes on his part. It does sound like "Peek… Peek… Peek…" So, I get up out of bed, get dressed, put my shoes on, and go down the hall to his apartment. Knock, he answers, and I inform him, “Curt, your fire alarm batteries are dead, so the alarm is making that Peeking sound to let you know to change the batteries.” He again thanks me, and I go back to my apartment, grab my purse and headed out to the gym… Might as well. I was wide awake and not going back to sleep… 

T.T.F.N.

Anne

His Citizenship Day

  Well, I don't know who was more excited the day of his Citizenship, NM or I. We got up and I rushed around trying to find exactly what I wanted to wear. (I had spent a couple of days on this, but as we all know, we have nothing to wear until the last moments.) I wore a black Abaya with leopard print trimming and a sienna brown colored Hijab. It was cold and snowy out, so I had some flesh toned leopard print leggings on underneath my Abaya, that I wore with a pair of brown boots. He wore a nice dress shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. We got all the paperwork around and headed uptown.

  We drove around and around in the city near the courthouse trying to find a parking space. He was going to be late so he parked, hopped out, and I jumped in the driver's seat. People were honking and just freaking the heck out. He ran off to find the building and I turned the corner and drove trying to find a parking place. I found an open meter space on a bridge 2 city blocks away. The downside, I didn't have any change to go in it. The meter had the option for using a credit card, so I put mine in, hoping I had enough on there. I went back to the car and made sure it was all locked up, as I was locking it up, I noticed he had left his wallet. (I totally started to panic like a crazy woman about him not being allowed in and missing his ceremony.) There was no way they were going to let him in the building with no ID. So I grab his wallet and start running down the snowy bridge. I ran about a block before I had to turn the corner, to go up two blocks, to the courthouse. I turn the corner sliding along, I was probably a sight. A Muslim woman in flowing black garb, Abaya hiked up around my leopard print clad thighs, and my boots slip sliding in the snow. I got over half way and I saw a guard to the building and asked him where I needed to go. All I panted out was, "Citizen... pant pant pant... Citizenship... pant pant... ceremony... pant pant... where... pant... to go? pant pant..." He directed me and I hiked up my abaya and started running again. I'm sure the man was fairly amused by my wild lack of composure and decorum. My lungs were on fire, I felt like I had eaten saw dust, my throat and mouth were raw and tasted a bit blood-ish.

  I finally get to the front of the building and find NM waiting in line to get in. I stand there panting, and coughing, holding out his wallet like some kind of prized life saving device. His dress pants bottoms have mud all over them, he too had had a bit of a searching jaunt around the buildings, and had traversed through a puddle or four before finding said destination. He calmly thanked me, seeming to not notice my disheveled appearance. I straighten my attire in a window reflection. So much for worrying about what I was going to wear...

  We went through metal detectors and were also wanded before we were sent on up to the courtroom for the ceremony. A couple of people from NM's work had come to see him become a citizen. It was great of them to come along. So the four of us sat and enjoyed the ceremony together. NM got to register to vote, placed his hand over his heart and was sworn in, he walked up and got his certificate. There was a singing quartet that was quite nice, all in all it was a good day.

T.T.F.N.

Anne

This Sleeper was Awoken...

  I was woken up today by the wondrous sounds of a leaf blower, and a truck & crew, building a driveway on the house behind us. This is not the first, nor will it be the last time that the leaf blowing yahoo will wake me up. He does it nearly everyday in the fall and spring, not to mention him leaf blowing grass clippings off his driveway during the summer months. Soon the snow will fly and I will be kept awake or nearly driven mad by the sounds of his snow blower as well...

  I did need to get up anyways, I am waiting in dreaded anticipation on whether or not I will have another interview, to go along with my first interview that I had, at a potential new Job yesterday. They... Have... Uniforms!!! I dread uniforms. I know they are to keep us all looking nice and put together, cause lets face it, we would all come to work in our jammies if we could. I had to wear a red shirt when I worked at Kmart. I hate wearing red, it looks nice on me though. When I worked at PetSmart I had to wear those windbreaker pants, makes a swish swish sound when you walk, along with a smock top of the same materiel. My coworkers would constantly tell me I should style my hair, put makeup on and wear a nice shirt underneath. Yeah, I'm in the back scrubbing dogs' teeth and butts all day, I'm not dressing up for Fido. Then I worked at Sonic, you had to have black pants and wear their shirt. I of course couldn't wear any of their new shirts cause they didn't have any my size at the time. I got stuck with old red shirts, that had two black stripes with a tan stripe between them. Where were these stripes you ask? Well, they were right across my chest, and they made my not so small chest look even larger. I'm sure it helped with all the tips I was getting, but still, it was tacky. I loved when they got actual comfortable T-shirts in. They were so much better for working in in the summer, and they had so many great colors. I never had to wear a uniform when I worked for HomeDepot. They just had me wear jeans, a nice shirt, and their orange Apron, by far the best uniform I've had yet...

  So here I sit awaiting a call, or no call. They said if I get a call then I will have another interview, if I don't get a call, well then I'm not a candidate for the position. Is this what it is like waiting for a cute guy to call you? I've never experienced that, I mean I was overjoyed when NM and I first talked on the phone, but he called as a surprise. He had my number, but he had had it for a while and hadn't called. Though I wasn't expecting him to, with all the school work he had to do...

  Speaking of NM, he is now a US citizen!!!! I will make a post about how that day went in my next post. So... maybe later this afternoon... T.T.F.N

Anne

Here I sit all awoken and un-smarted...

  I've been gone for a while... A long while... I completely forgot about this blog, but now I'm back from nowheresville to pop in and just jabber away...

  I no longer work at the job I had, too much animosity towards my appearance as a Muslim. I no longer wear the the outward garb. I've moved a couple of times in the city that I live in. I've lived in a bug infested run down squaller that NM and I unlovingly refer to as "The Hole." It was a one room apartment with horrible crazy tenants. Our bathroom was a converted closet, when you sat on the toilet your knees were squished together between the wall and the shower. The shower was a shower liner and not an actual shower. The kitchen was just another converted closet I swear. We had enough room for just the bed and a TV, and to stack a few boxes up against the wall along with our bikes. Our bikes, forced on us items that we did not want to bring to NY, because we do not ride them. But we have been lugging them around this town with us every time we move. We now live in another place. At least here I won't get attacked by another homeless crack whore...

  Since I've last written my only Grandfather left alive has actually died. He was the only one that I had ever known. I lost him while we still lived in "The Hole," not the best place to mourn anyone, let me tell you. My parents have also separated and divorced. My Mother is living in a nice tiny town with my Grandmother, her Mum. Mum is her care taker, but really they just keep each other company. My Dad has a girlfriend, I don't know if I like her. I've never actually met her, but we are "Facebook Friends," so we shall see how that goes. She is nearly 6 years younger than me, and she is 31 years younger than my Dad. You take that as you will...

  I am in the middle of looking for work, any place will pretty much do. I need the money, simple as that, I need the money. I want to have a house, a nice house, and I want to have babies, nice babies. Fat cuddly babies that I can hold to my breasts and sing to them. I might not have the best voice, but I can still sing with love...

 So that is my return post... I'll be 30 this next February, and I am planning on writing on here as much as I can... T.T.F.N

                                                                                                                  Anne