Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The Great Debate aka you just GOT to be right?!?!

Raises her saber to the sky and with a thunderous crash of cacaphony declares: Dammmned if I’m about to get into a debate with your ass todayyyyyyy!!!!!!!!

So I’m hoping that the person who has triggered this post never sees this. And if she does, bless her heart, I’ll buy her a rhutabaga pie to make up for it all. She's really a sweet, smart girl. But on this November afternoon, I’m about to let it fly and she started it. The topic: information debaters.

These people really wrinkle The Hostile Negress’s ample nose.

I’m sure my reader(s) have encountered someone of this ilk once before. This is the friend who is contrarian. Not “’70s superfly jacket with chuck tailors and ballgown because you won’t stop me” contrarian. Not “oh, hair is a woman’s glory, eh? I’m cuttin ALL OF THIS OFF TODAY!” contrarian. No, those are the quaint contrarian idiosyncrocies of yours truly, which are almost certain to result in some type of hippie/revolutionary lifestyle before it’s all said and done. And yes, the hair probably will go in some type of dramatic in your face showdown as well.

No, I’m talking about someone who is always there to challenge the information you’ve just provided. Doesn’t matter if the information is there in black and white. Doesn't matter if you just watched the incident under debate take place. They’re there to yell CHALLLLLLLLEEEEENGE with regards to your statement of the facts.

Example: The Hostile Negress, in her effort to remember why she thought Florida would be a good place to call home, decides to take a caravan of sorts to a certain out of control city where it’s always about 4000 degrees and apparently, the laws and language of North America are completely unapplicable.

HN: Yeah I’m on my way down there, looking forward to it.
Great Debater: How long is it going to take?
HN: About two hours.
Great Debater: Really? Because I think that’s a four-hour drive.
(Insert that this drive is being made from an area just south of Orlando to said city, Miami)
HN: Looking directly at highway sign. Well it’s only 180 miles.
Great Debater: Well I’ve done a lot of long distance driving and I remember that being about four hours, but ok.

Girl boo bye stop drop and die. What. Are. You. Talking about???? In what universe is 180 miles a four-hour journey? Even Gilligan got there in less time! This is the type of thing that just gets under my pelt - I mean you're just being ridic right now, seriously.

Incident No. 2 – upon my announcement of a long awaited trip to the birthplace of all negroes, Maryland.

HN: So yeah, I’m going back up to Maryland this weekend. Really looking forward to it!
Great Debater: Oh cool bring me back a snowball.
HN: Um, girl it’s not snowing there.
Great Debater: Really? Because my friend lives there and she said she got snow.

Now, at this point I should outpoint that while The Hostile Negress has been a mainstay in the South for the past few years (something I will rectify relatively soon) I was born* and raised in Maryland. I got some years under my belt in the Old Line state son. I KNOW what Maryland weather does and doesn’t do. And what it doesn’t do is snow at all, and certainly not to a point of having massive snowball fights, in mid November. Stop the madness.

How did this convo end? Girl it didn’t – I’m still getting texts about it as we speak. I'm just going to concede and tell her I'm packing a snowsuit and checking to make sure TSA will let me bring a carrot and two coal eyes for my snowman.

Another entry with no point other than to illuminate the side eye that has become my life lately.

Good. Day.


*The Hostile Negress was technically born at Alexandria Hospital, in (deep shudder) Virginia. But she’ll cut you QUICK if you ever bring up the V-word.

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