Look at me! Look at me! I'm a Gangsta!

I believe we all have two duties as parents: 1) Keep your kid from killing other kids and 2) Keep their kids from killing your kid.
My nightmare is for a then, 12-13 year "gangsta" versions of m or z to end up on a daytime talk show, wearing see-thru clothes, and talking about the 500 men they slept with/I want a baby, now!/My daughters needs a makeover.
Right now, the girls rebel by trying to climb on the couch from Ikea in their room, which is fine, but they still think about: "What would happen if I went off head first?" So far m has fell twice and z was saved by a last minute leg grab. Literally, in 3 seconds, the time it took for me to walk to their closet, m had ran over to the couch climbed on it and then went off head first like a stage diver at a a 1980's, punk rock concert.
Why the hell is that couch in there?

Speaking of bad girls: So I'm riding BART the Bay Area Rapid Transportation or Bastards Always Raising Tickets or Butt Fucking Asshole! Ride This! This girl gets on. She's like 16-17, Some sort of Hispanic, Black-White mutt mix. Listening to rap on head phones and smoking a cigarette. Of course she sits near me because I have this cosmic magnetic attraction to beings of negative energy also know as a bitch magnet.

Now, everybody in the Bay Area know what the smoking laws are. You can't smoke anywhere in California except in the middle of the desert while standing on a blue tarp and 4 fans blowing toward you. This girl is obviously rebelling against every thing and everyone around her. Now, I support rebellion when it's focused and used to improve the world: The American Revolution, Civil Rights, refusing to watch Everybody Loves Raymond, but this girl is obviously doing this just to piss everybody off. She sits there, bobbing her head, taking drag after drag and waving her hands around like a "gangsta beeyatch" instead of what I guess, the middle class princess from Berkeley who's parents ignore her. I decide I have 4 choices: 1) Confront her and get a fuck you! 2) Get up and move 3) Turn her in to the pigs and thrown in jail plus a $500 fine. 4) Ignore her because she's almost finished with her cigarette and she's screaming for attention. I opt for # 4. Two other passengers opt for #1. This blonde woman taps her on the shoulder and points to a sign over her head that said no smoking. The girls gives her a look which I hadn't seen since I flew to Paris. When we were departing, this old French lady, lights up a cigarette in the customs line. This stooopid American guy tells her (in English, mind you) that there's no smoking and she gives him a look that translated into: Go away! You insignificant cockroach! That was the look the girl gave, except without the class. The blonde woman switches cars. This bald guy tries for option # 1. She tells him: "Fuck You!" and gives him the middle finger which I found kind of her to consider that he might be deaf. He gets up and switches cars. As I predicted. The girl finished her cigarette, so I sat still and continued to write in my Palm Pilot.

At one stop, this fat Black woman gets on wearing a hideous powder blue jumpsuit. the pants are so tight that they cause her stomach to escape like a muffin baked in a metal dixie cup. she sits across from us. The "Gangsta" girl lights up yet another cigarette proving that yes, she's trying to provoke anyone who for some reason, like oxygen. "Oh Boy! Here we go!" I think. Expecting a confrontation that will be worthy of Pay Per View or Jerry Springer. But Noooo the Black woman ignores her like I do. At this point, I'm running out of air and patients. I want to leave but I don't want to leave like the other too passengers and loose my "phat street cred." I decide to wait until a stop comes up, then I'll act like I'm departing and switch to another car from the outside. The intercom announces the next stop and I get up and walk to the door. As I'm walking by, the girl says "BYE!" dripping in sarcasm as if to say: "Thought you could take it, huh bitch!" I ignore her and wait by the door. But get this. The girl starts up a conversation with the Black woman as if suddenly they're friends!!! But, what about me??? I'm cool? I was willing to let you rebel in peace? As planned, at the next stop, I switch cars and sit down. It is then I notice I smell like a giant tobacco leaf. She ruined my clothes! Now, I'm pissed. "That's it!" I say. "You want to be tough? Let's see how tough you are…IN JAIL! I get on the intercom and call the train operator. I tell him that there's a girl smoking multiple cigarettes in the last car. I want to see the girl dragged away, kicking and screaming, while I look at her from the window, laughing with sharp teeth and yelling "BYE!" over and over. I feel like such an old man, shaking his fist at: "those darn kids! Always sneaking into my yard and stealing my apples!" The train operator starts asking me all of these time wasting questions: What's she wearing? What does she look like? Which seat is she in? What's the chemical makeup of titanium? Why do people hate me? By the time We're finished, it's my stop. I get off the train. I don't see the girl on the platform, nor do I see her inside the car as it leaves. : "Damn it!" I curse. But get this. When I was leaving the station, off to the side, out of view of the station agent, I see the girl, hop over a small wall and sneak out of the station, without paying!!!!'

Gangsta Beeyach to the end.

That's it, EM