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Sunday, February 04, 2007
Lunches and Superbowl Sundays
Hit the gym earlier today. The good thing about a dose of depression sprinkled with anger and frustration is that it gives you an extra spurt of energy, so I had me a good workout.

I was famished and thirsty after the gym so I went to Starbucks across the street, then played in Barnes and Noble for a little bit afterwards. As as I was by the magazine section, a little boy (about six or seven) came up to me and yelled, "You have a vagina!"

Uh.....

"Um, yeah, sure. I have a vagina," I responded, moving to another section, hoping that the kid would get lost.

"And I have a penis," he said proudly.

"Yes you do. Good job!"

He beamed. I kept on moving, but he kept on following.

"My mommy has a vagina. And my daddy has a penis. The penis and the vagina meet for lunch sometimes. And when they eat lunch, they can make a baby. If it's a good lunch it's delicious, but sometimes not all lunches make babies. I'm a lunch baby!"

This was one I'd never heard before.

"Does your vagina eat lunch?" he asked, looking up at me.

It was at this point that I asked him where his parents were and walked him over to his mother because "Daddy is watching the football game with his friends."

Something was off today in my neighborhood. At the gym, there were only women. The only people working at Starbucks were women. The Barnes and Noble cashiers were all women. One was grumbling that this was supposed to be her day off.

"It's not fair," she growled at a fellow cashier. "I'm always here, I never take days off, and they force me to come in today".

"It's that stupid NFL bullshit," her co-worker replied. "Haven't you noticed? All the guys called in sick today."

And that's when I realized it. Barnes and Noble was full of nothing but women. The gym was full of women. The row of restaurants where I parked my car was full of women. The men were nowhere to be found. How easy would it be to start a revolution right now?
Thoughts shared by Carmen at 4:47 PM
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Who: Carmen

Mini-Bio:
xx-something egyptia-yorker who's spent over half her life stuck in two worlds not of her own making. unable and unwilling to fully embrace one identity over the other, she created (is trying to create) her own place in the world where people love each other unconditionally, irrespective of artificial boundaries, and where dancing merengue is as necessary to life as breathing air.

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