Feelin’ Prickly In the Hood

I’m finishing up a cold.  You know that felling where you have to clear your throat all the time, or are overcome by a coughing fit, but you don’t have any other outward symptoms to claim sympathy.  I can’t use it as an excuse to avoid cleaning the bathroom anymore although I get that little zing of satisfaction over my shiny chrome and porcelain. 

The G-man might also say I’m a wee bit out of sorts, and since he’s the only target around, well, he gets the brunt of of peevishness.  So I’m giving a “shout-out” to all the mates out there who turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to their loved one’s (rare) bout of crankiness. 

I’m also peeved about some current events:  the “blame the hoodie”  argument ranking as #1.  The Trayvon Martin case surfaces serious issues, and I’d say the shallow argument that wearing a hooded sweatshirt could have prevented this tragedy is just that.   I live near a high school and have seen more children than I can count walking through the neighborhood in their hoodies.  And I’ve seen plenty of punks looking to make trouble in my day as well.  Their choice of sweatshirt is the least defining characteristic of either group.  So this weekend I’m going to wear my bubbe hoodie as often as I can.  And I’m going to try very hard to adjust my prickly attitude — because I don’t want to provoke anybody who may be suspicious of my hoodie-wearing intentions. 


7 thoughts on “Feelin’ Prickly In the Hood

  1. hope you feel better soon.

    (oh, and tell the g-man that he can find asylum at our house if necessary, lol.)

  2. That hoodie thing has got to be the lamest attempt to justify any action ever. Someone needs a lobotomy. I can’t even count how many of those things my own boys have worn over the years. Everybody wears them here. The whole thing is just so patently ridiculous, or would be if it weren’t so tragic.

    Glad you’re on the mend. Those nasty coughs can linger for many weeks, though, so keep the cough drops handy.

    1. thanks, DD! now i only sound like a pack-a-day smoker or Marge Simpson’s sisters. sounds way worse than it feels.

      1. It’s much better with each passing day. I’m even debating getting a mile or so in today. I’ve been such a slug — which contributes to my crankiness.

  3. Some years ago, on a cold winter night, I went to my combination karate class, dressed as I often tend to on casual occasions in that weather: as though I’d borrowed all my clothes from a short, stocky teenaged boy. I walked into the dojo, wearing oversized Dickies carpenter jeans, Timberland boots, and a black hoodie, and a couple of my classmates – BIG stocky corrections officers w/hearts of gold – stopped what they were doing, punched each other in my direction, and exclaimed “lookit her, how cute! You look like a little gangsta!” I never really gave much thought to this event as an example of unearned privelege until just now, when I realized that the same outfit that’s considered cute on a middleaged white lady can be justified as cause to murder an unarmed, babyfaced 16-y.o. black male.
    May Trayvon’s soul rest in everlasting peace.

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