Conversations I've Had This Week

Location: Office. Massa shows us pictures from his recent trip to a painting workshop that took place in a rich woman's mansion. As he goes through the slideshow, he stops on a student's canvas--he's painting a portrait of a black man.

Me: Who’s that black person?
Massa: What? Who? That’s Stevie—he works there.
[I give a look—you know, the sassy-over-the-glasses look. Massa looks up from his photos and notices.]
Massa: Oh, stop it—he’s like one of the family! He’s worked there since he was five!
Me: Five year olds don’t work!!!

****

Location: Duane Reade drugstore. I’m picking up a present for the “Yankee Swap” during today’s holiday lunch (more on that later). I walk up to the cashier with this item:

The woman in the line next to me--a short, older black woman purchasing a few packs of Kools--starts chatting:

Random: Aw, that’s so cute. I want that.
[I have no idea what to say, so I just laugh lightly, assuming it was a joke.]
Random: Is that a present?
Me: It’s for a coworker.
Random: That is so sweet. I want that. [She reads the box] Baby Bella. She so cute. I want her to sleep with me. I’d kick my husband out the bed, and it’d be me and Baby Bella.

Why are people so cray?

Okay, back to this Yankee swap thing. I'm really annoyed by it. All I know about Yankee swap is what I saw on that episode of The Office, when people's awesome presents kept getting traded and everyone was mad. I'm not clear on why I would spend money on something that someone might not even want. What kind of sense does that make? This seems to be a classic case of WPS--Wealthy People Shit. I don't really like to go around claiming WPS--not like my coworkers are rolling in dough. But only someone without an understanding of the economic climate and an employee's need to fund dreams would suggest I "spend $20 on a little something. the stupider the better, cause then everyone can try to get rid of it."

Why would I want to act like an absentee Dad?

I think Scribe put it best--and makes the Gchat Quote of the Day--when she writes:

Yankee swap is white elephant and should only be played among friends. It's straight colonialism. You're like, "Ooh you got a cool gift; let me take it because I can.

I played that on the plantation and this Jewish girl took my book on black art. Everyone said, 'She's Jewish, she had to get rid of the ornaments she got.' Um, I'm a heathen--what am I gonna do with ornaments? And she sat there in her Obama shirt, so happy with her book on black art.

TRUTH.

So Baby Bella it is. She was $6.99 and can easily be re-gifted to a kindergartener.

And That's Why They Call Me Sojourner TRUTH.

Sunday night's Christmas party was, indeed, a shit show.

We all met--hostel staff and bar staff--at the bar, where we had free beer and wine for about an hour. We then got into a rented bus, which took us to a nearby Lebanese restaurant. Our managers had arranged for all the wine and beer to be dropped off beforehand, so bottles were ready and waiting when we arrived. The drinking continued as everyone opened their secret santa presents.

It seems that the theme of dirtiness is really among the bar staff, as the "reception crew" (as we call those who work above ground in the hostel) tended towards more appropriate gifts. I, for instance, got a little box of cards that listed the 50 places to see before you die. Sweet. Appropriate for a traveler like myself.

One of the managers, on the other hand, got a whistle shaped like a vagina that he wore around his neck all night.
Joe, in reception, received porno magazines. The subject: women over 60.
Mai, who also works in reception, got a glow-in-the-dark water bottle shaped like a penis, which she promptly filled with red wine.
Lena, one of my coworkers got the best gift of all--a vibrator.

So, as you can see, my cock ring fit right in. My recipient loved it, and was quite excited. So excited, that later in the night he told me broke it by trying to fit it on his wrist.
What a waste of a good cock ring.

Here are some pics from the dinner, just to corroborate my story.

These are my managers.

One girl was given a box of pads as her gift (I kid you not). Staff members immediately took great fun in opening them, soaking them with red wine, and affixing them to their body.
Clearly this was a heavy-flow day.




The glow-in-the-dark penis water bottle I mentioned earlier.
Note: the person holding this is not the actual recipient of the gift. Penises all around!


Um, I could show you more, but I think this is all you need. Imagine how the other patrons in the restaurant must have felt?

A White Christmas

Blacktress' Log, Star Date 14 December 2008.

I am becoming a total creature of the night, guys. The days of short shifts three times a week are over, as I'm on the roster 6 days a week now. Today is sort of a day off, but tonight is the staff Christmas party--oops, I should say Holiday party to be politically correct (but let's be real, there are no non-Christians on the staff. We silence those voices). Our boss handed out names of other staff members for Secret Santa, and I got a guy named Patrick, who works in housekeeping.

My original plan was to buy him a bottle of wine and call it a damn day. However, we were all talking earlier this week and I mentioned I had to buy a guy's gift, but he wasn't a bartender. Of course, not knowing who Patrick is, I have no regards for his anonymity, and just told them it was him. Even though he's not on the bar staff everyone knows him, and immediately laughter filled the room.

"Oh, that'll be easy," said one my pierce-tongue young things. "Just get him something filthy. He'll love it."
"What?" I said, partially confused. This is not how we do things Up Over, and I certainly thought the Brits (who I affectionately call 'the colonizers') would have a dash more class than that on this holiday season.

Then again, I should have known that the people who brought us the "quick fuck"--and, as I discovered two nights ago while getting a snack, enjoy KETCHUP ON PIZZA (clearly these palates are not refined)--would have crazy ideas of Santa's goodness.

Just then, Tracy, the only bartender over the age of 21, came over and asked what "we were on about."
"She's gotta buy a present for Patrick," PTYT said.
Tracy burst out laughing. "Yes, something really filthy. The grosser the better."

Okay, now, I haven't met this Patrick person, but I'm already uncomfortable. How would you feel if, when someone mentioned your name in the context of gift-giving, the first words out of everyone's mouth was "oh, get him something dirty!!" Is he a registered sex offender, or a just a run-of-the-mill deviant who is very open about his leanings?

Which then leads me to: what defines "really filthy"? We're talking animal porn, or just alot of full-frontal with lesbians? Yesterday two of the PTYTs went to a sex store called the Pleasure Chest and bought their gifts. (Apparently, down under, 'tis the season to be horny.)

Cat got her secret santa, one of the guys who works in the kitchen, a Kiss The Chef hat and some shorts that have lip around the crotch area--perfect for a penis to fit through.

Howie, one of the glassies, got his person some anal beads.

I feel very out of my element. It's not that I'm a prude, I just think a sex toy is the kind of gift that should keep on giving, and one you should purchase for yourself. And, seeing as I've never met this person and have a $10 limit, there's really not much I can go on besides what can only be described as "an intense heterosexuality."

So, um, I'm thinking a cock ring, and then two condoms from my own stash (lord knows I'm not using them anyway).

I'm bringing my camera tonight. This "holiday party" is sure to be a shit show.