I had planned to write about the crushes that I’ve had on the men in the Hasidic community on Bennett Avenue, or on how erotic armpit odor is (hey look, it has raging pheromones in it, I think – or something like this). But as I was getting ready to broil my meat, thinking of phone calls I had to return after eating, I thought about one woman on the list, and how she was the first woman who had affectionately called me a bitch. Now this was back in 1993. Because I am mad corny, or shall I say, incredibly corny, (okay, really, I’m not that corny) I was absolutely taken aback when she casually said in the most laid back, sexy voice, ‘Okay bitch, so I’ma call you back tomorrow aight’. ‘T-tomorrow – oh, okay’, I stammered. I’m thinking, she called me a bad word but in an affectionate tone. Does this mean, like, I am her bitch, or is it a new way of saying honey, or baby, or dear? Did she mean to offend me? Should I get on the A train to her house and invite her downstairs for a round of fisticuffs? This apparently is some newfangled way of speaking that I haven’t been acquainted with as of yet, I figured. Maybe when she calls back tomorrow, I’ll show her I know what time it is and say ‘Why, good morning to ya bitch! How are you today? So, bitch, what’s on the agenda?’
Since then I’m everybody’s bitch. ‘Bitch! You drank all my Jack Daniels’ – ‘Hey bitch, what’s up,’ they all say. And I’m down with the program today, reciprocating this term of endearment with the utmost jocularity.
Peace out bitches!