“And it only took her 37 years to figure this out.”
My brother. He’s not called “Anger Management” for nothing. Never mind that he’s my mom’s fav [if you’re a parent, save it! I don’t care how my mom tries to spin it, we’re ranked…and on any given day I come in at either 2nd or 3rd out of 4.]…but he’s also absolutely insane. My mom of all people, should know this.
I also rank my siblings. The one I call when I need advice. The one I run to for a hug. The one I call when I’m pissed or need help...
“Anger, yo, I can barely even see straight right now, I’m so fucking MAD.”
“Where you at and who you with?”
“Downtown BMore. My boy is with me. Can you please tell me why I just got kicked out of this bullshit ass bar just now. And by kicked out, I mean literally picked up off my feet like the goddamn Thursday trash, and dropped outside on the curb. AND I AINT EVEN DRUNK?!”
“Oh shit. What you do?”
“Ok, it’s fcuking, 25 cent bottle night, right, so I’m there with like 7 other people. I had JUST gotten a round of Hein.ekens for everybody before last call (11pm), and we’re sitting in this little booth. So three of my friends were not at the table, like either in the bathroom or pool table pimpin, and this bouncer kid come over and sweeps the bottles into the trash and walks away. So I kindly stand up, follow him and ask for an explanation.
"Please tell me why this fat muhfucker yells in my face, [and of course I do the BMore cracker accent] “You can’t have beers stacked up like that!”
"So I say, ‘Ahh ok sir…now mind you, bitch can’t be more than 22…ok sir, but #1, we didn’t know that was a rule; and #2, they’re not stacked up. The people who will be drinking them are just in the bathroom.”
"“I don’t care, you cant have them stacked up like that!” he yells at me again, as if, maybe, I dunno, I can speak the language but can’t understand it. So I take a deep breath and explain again, and this time I tell him that he could have just TOLD us to get rid of them rather than to TAKE them.
"And please tell me why he gets in my face yelling again, and so at this point I have no other recourse than to let his ass have it. Mid-cuss out, Fat Bitch tells me to leave. I laugh, but before I can even turn around good, another big burly muhfucka comes up out of nowhere and picks my ass up off the ground and carries me thru the fcuking bar. Again, as if I am a Glad bag of bottles and stale nachos, yo.”
My brother pauses, and I know in this moment that he is not about to judge or question or chastise me as my other siblings would have. He and I are *here* with it. I know that in that brief pause he has also blacked out on my behalf, and is counting backwards from 10. And I know at that moment we’re both thinking that if he was here he would have handled him on for me without hesitation.
“So what did you do?”
And tears have now accompanied the story, white flashing in my eyes as I recall the still-fresh fury.
“I couldn’t believe what was happening. You know how you see the real drunk white girl get carted out? But she’s ALWAYS passed out when she gets carried out. Or she’s cussing. And I am neither. My only instinct was to pick up my feet off the ground while he's carrying me so that it doesn’t look like I’m struggling and fucked up.
"So he drops me outside and my friends are right behind me. I tell him that I dropped my shoe and the other one is right there and basically throws it at me. I turn to the people in line, SO embarrassed, and I have this blank look on my face like, “Am I the only one who sees this ridiculous shit?” So then the bouncer outside starts calling me all types of bitch, and the ones who kicked me out join in. There’s a little ngga cop standing right there and he does and say NOTHING. I’m fcuking fed up. I stand toe to fcuking toe with the Fat Bitch one and I smirk and flip his dirty ass baseball cap off his head. And I swear to God if my friend hadn’t stepped in btwn us, I KNOW he would have lifted his fat fcuking fist to punch me in my face. And I was BEGGING him to do it. Instead my friends talked me down and we left.”
“Where are you now?”
“Around the corner at the car...”
“Pacing and shit.” He takes the words out of my mouth. I'm SO glad to be talking to someone who understands.
*I joke a lot about wanting to fight, and I’m prone to flipping out and all, and I'm constantly being told that this isn’t the way to live (as if I'm truly violent and destructive. I'm not at all).
But I have to ask, Why the fuck not?? Is anger not a legitimate emotion? Is it not warranted in many instances? What’s so bad about being upset…is it the fact that it’s very easy to lose all semblance of common sense and do something stupid?
Ok so let’s assume, that I’m a well-adjusted, level headed adult, who knows right from wrong and makes wise decisions (on any given day I may or may not register about 3 out of those 5). Is it ok then for me to be angry? Can I say out loud that I’m furious without someone stepping in and trying to convince me that this isn’t the way to go?
My brother is on a whole different level with his. Exhibit A:
“So I was at the Cowboys-Bills game the other week…”
“The Monday night game? You went?”
“Yup dolo. You know I always go when Dallas comes up here. So there’s mad Cowboys fans there but I’m like the only one in my section. And the whole game they’re riding me. After the second interception they’re going crazy and I’m chilling. I just keep saying, ‘It's not over until the final whistle and I'm not leaving a second before that.’
So then when T.O. missed the 2pt conversion this white chick turns to me and starts laughing and THROWS HER BEER AT ME. [pause…You’re probably willing to bet that he said something slick to provoke this. Trust, he would tell me if he did.]
“So you call her all types of bitch,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Not even. I mushed her,” he says with the calmest voice ever.
“You mushed her?!"
"Wait..like, you mushed her down or you mushed her back.”
“I mushed her so hard she woulda fell backwards if there wasn’t anyone behind her. Who told her silly ass to be wasting good beer?!”
I’m at this point crying laughing. “So what happened?”
“Her red faced boyfriend rolls up on me like he’s about to do something. Then the Yellow Coats (security) come and get me. I told them I had to go to the bathroom to clean up, and when I was in there I heard someone radio the dude telling him something happened in the next row over. So I slipped out and went back and saw the rest of the game.”
“She poured her entire beer on you.” I repeat. Then pause. Black out for him. Shake my head. And I know at that moment we’re both thinking that if I was there I would have handled her on his behalf without hesitation.
“So that’s why Mommy said you have hate in your heart?”
“No, she said it cuz I almost beat the shit out of the cop who gave me a ticket for playing my music too loud.”
Pissed. And I don’t blame him.