My Own Personal Medea

I have this friend who I’ve know since I was probably four years old. She’s worked with my mom for as long as I have a memory and has always been a favorite of my mom’s friends. She is hysterically funny. I’m talking pee pee in my pants funny especially since a baby came out of my verginny and I have a marked decrease of control in that area. She is an older black woman who is just the kind of influence that a young black boy in this world will need growing up. This is something my personal young black boy will not get from his biological grandmother. My son LOVES this friend. He doesn’t warm up to many people but he really adores her. She teaches him all kinds of naughty stuff. She’s taught him how to sword fight with knives in a restaurant across the table and has exposed him to many swear words he doesn’t get at home. Lucky for my son, she loves him right back. If left to their own devices I could picture the two of them stealing a car and driving cross country while shoplifting at convenience stores along the way to keep their fill of junk food at hand. Of course, this would have to happen when Keenan is much older. I’ve never known her to be dishonest or to be a thief…it’s just that I envision this in a “what happens in the movies that are funny and have a happy ending with no consequences” sort of way.

Last night she came over for dinner and told us two of the funniest stories I’ve heard in a long time. These stories have convinced me that her neighbors must think she’s crazy. Mainly, they’ve convinced me that she’s my own personal Medea. This friend, who I adore, apparently got the idea that since she lives alone and sometimes works late at night and walks to and from her car in the dark that she would need some form of personal protection. Normal people buy a whistle or pepper spray or mace. She bought a Taser. Yes, a TASER! Apparently you can buy that sort of thing off the internet and it comes with a handy 30 day return policy. I only know about the return policy because this particular Taser ended up being returned. A Taser you buy off the internet has the ability of shocking someone with anywhere from 100,000 to 400,000 volts of electricity. (I don’t know if this is even possible but it’s what she reported..it’s her story). In any case, she was showing it off to her neighbor one day all vigilante style and just as he said “I think you’re holding it at the wrong end” she tasered herself. Seriously…I’m not even sure how that happens. Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of trigger you have to pull or button you have to push at the other end of the taser to activate it? I asked her if it hurt and she looked at me like I should get my head out of my ass and said that she dropped it instantly and that just that little shock cleared up her sore throat and her earaches but gave her a headache instead. In her words, her brain’s been scrambled since. I suggested she take a self-defense course.

I know a lot of people who have certain phobias or fears. One of my friend’s husband is deathly afraid of escalators. I know plenty of claustrophobics and I can bet 100 bucks that I can point out 5 people in my immediate circle who are afraid of spiders. I myself have a foot phobia. My feet are fine, Keenan’s feet are fine…all other feet make me nauseous. I’m convinced that the day I meet the man whose feet don’t make me gag a little I will have met my soul mate. I remember on one season of the Real World one girl had a crippling fear of a large moving steel objects…of course they lived in a Marina with cruise ships constantly passing by. In any case, most of these fears are directly related to unpleasant things. This friend who I adore has an INTENSE phobia……of cute little fluffy furry CATS. Um, yeah, CATS. Again, a reason why she’s the crazy neighbor on her street….. So one night she was ready for bed and realized she had forgotten to put her garbage cans out for the next day’s garbage pick up. Since it was late she thought it would be safe to sneak out of the house in her skivvies and her bathrobe and wheel her cans to her curb. She apparently believed she’d be in stealth mode and could sneak back in her house unnoticed. It really was a good plan and who hasn’t done something like that. Until “the incident”. Little life lesson…don’t leave your door slightly ajar when you’re taking your garbage cans to the curb. Unbeknownst to my friend a cat had slipped into her house without her knowing it. Not realizing she was entering a closed, confined space with a (DUNH DUNH DUNH) CAT she went inside thinking all was well and stealth mode was pretty cool. All of a sudden, she saw the cat and the cat saw her. In my mind I haven’t decided which was the most freaked out. The cat went berserk flying around the room knocking things off walls and shelves. My friend started screaming bloody murder at the top of her lung and started running wildly around the room. Fight or flight had kicked in for both of them and neither of them wanted to fight but neither one could accomplish the flight either. In her panic she apparently had forgotten how to open a door. Her neighbors upon hearing this commotion apparently assumed she was being attacked. At least that is what they told the police when they called them. Three separate neighbors, one with a baseball bat and two with shovels came rushing to her side to quell her would be attacker just as the police with lights and sirens in full effect came screeching around the corner to her house. At this point she apparently remember how to turn a doorknob and fled the house in all her skivvied glory with her robe flying behind her. I asked her what she said to the police. She said they asked her what was the problem and after telling them she said they went in to do a sweep of the house to try to oust the attack cat for her. I’ve learned three things from this story…1) always wear a pad around my friend when she’s telling stories, 2) I really want neighbors like that and 3) the police have GOT to have a wall of fame for their funniest or weirdest calls.