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MartaMe Memory 8.31.15

Let me preface this by saying, I can’t make this shit up… I was early this morning so I thought I’d relax on the train by listening to Anita Baker and crocheting. My plans were soon thrawted when my seat mate plopped down two stops later. I guess I am hella approachable because she started in right away. Below is as much of the conversation as I can remember – me saying very little but staying engaged: – Teach me how to crochet. (That was an adventure within itself because I actually demonstrated and she wanted to learn from the beginning.)

– What are you making – a cup holder? You should make a crock pot. It holds a lot of stuff ya know. ๐Ÿ˜•

– My cousin sews. She’s a redbone just like you. She teaches boys how to be professors at the university. One jumped in her face like she was a man. She should’ve knocked him the fuck out.๐Ÿ’ช

– I woke up in Oklahoma three days ago and now I’m here.๐Ÿ‘€๐Ÿ‘€๐Ÿ‘€

– Any black colleges in Atlanta? I wonder if they will give me money to pay for my books. I need a scholarship or something.

– I’m 53 years old with my hair like this. It don’t make any sense being 42 with my hair like this. (Foul on the mofo play! ๐Ÿ˜‘)

– I wear this I love Jesus scarf inside out because I don’t know how Jesus looks on the inside ya know. ๐Ÿ˜ง

– Will you excuse me for the smell?

– Where are you going?

– What’s your name? My name is Felicia.

– Well this is my stop Nicole…see you later.

Me: Bye Felicia. ๐Ÿ˜„

I hope she has a great day.

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