Inappropriate humor of my one (Tibetan) coworker (2 of 3): Shooting.

That same week, there was a gang-related shooting near the resthome, and people at work were talking about who did what to who and how based on what they were hearing, as all the details were filtering out in the media.

"On social media it says the suspect is a young black male, maybe eighteen years old," I told some people.

At that, my one Tibetan coworker with an inappropriate sense of humor put on a facetious smile and said in a high voice, "It's my boyfriend."

Inappropriate humor of my one (Tibetan) coworker (1 of 3): Shoes.

The other week, my one (Tibetan) coworker with inappropriate humor was coming back from the women's locker room at the end of shift when she had just gotten out of her working clothes, and she had her work shoes in her hand as she passed by where I was sitting.

"Shoe, shoe, five dollar, five dollar!", she said in a put-on voice as she went by me, like she was a poor itinerant vendor or something trying to sell the one thing that they had.

Blue jeans accident.

The other week, I was walking on the sidewalk in the city, and since it was raining out and I didn't have my umbrella with me, I was hugging as close to the building walls as possible so I could catch as much of the awnings as I could possibly get and not get all that wet, and while I was doing that, a sharp part of a pipe that was sticking out of the sidewalk caught the hem of my right jeans leg, and suddenly it made like an eight inch tear on my pants leg, mostly along the seam.

I'm running very low on blue jeans, too, so when I went to head to Target to go and buy a new pair, I first wanted to put on shorts, but it was too cold out, so I put on my torn jeans instead, and in order to go out with them I put four safety pins along the legs to tie the parts of the denim together.

On the one hand, it looks kind of weird, but on the other hand, maybe some people might think it's punk.

Dark humor of a newer resthome resident.

For our job, we have to check in on resthome residents every 2-3 hours or so, so if they fall or need help or something but can't reach us, we find them and can get help to them sooner rather than later.

The other week, I was going to check on a newer resthome resident on my list, and I bumped into the supervisor that night, who was heading there at that very same time to pop in on her to give her the medication she needed.

So, the resident was a bit surprised to see us both at once, and she put on a persona and joked out loud as if she was us looking in on her, "Is she dead yet?".

She then apologized to us for making that joke.

Encounter with a (young) (black) (trans*) woman on the subway.

Like a month or two ago, I was coming home from work very late at night, and I was sitting there on the train reading a magazine and minding my own business and watching stuff out of the corner of my eye, when someone walks on the train and goes to sit down on the side I'm sitting on and then veers over two empty seats and sits right down in the empty seat right next to me.

So, I pause a beat, and then I close my magazine and I get up calmly and I walk over and stand by the door and hold a ceiling handle there, and then I see the person who had sat down next to me kind of get up on the seats and scoot over on them a bit towards me, and it's a (young) (black) (trans*) woman with barely any tits and a lowcut top showing a pimply chest like her (curly) (black) chest hair was still trying to grow in, and as she catches my eyes, she's like, "Puh-lease!", and it's like a true anguished shriek from the depths of her soul and she turns away and puts her head into her hands and starts crying loudly to herself, just sobs and sobs upon sobs into her hands.

Everyone kind of looks at her, but no-one knows what to do, and after a bit it dies down, and then she gets up to straighten her shoe and almost falls into the lap of the guy opposite her, then she sits down again and she starts eating from a bag of potato chips that she had pulled out of her purse, and then out of nowhere she quickly lunges towards me across the seats and ends up sprawled out across them and holding the open potato chip bag out to me, as if she was offering me some from it like she's wanting to bind me to her.

So, I eye her and I shake my head brusquely and decisively no, and she crawls back into a sitting position, hiccuping a bit like she's going to start crying again.

At the next stop, I quickly switched cars.

Resthome black humor (2 of 2): My comment.

A few weeks earlier, after listening a lot to the one resthome resident who's been ready to die already for a while but can't, we talked some more, and I just shook my head at how much she wants to die but just can't.

"I want to not wake up tomorrow, but I do, every day" she was like, seriously, speaking very slowly like she usually does now.

"Ugh, that's awful," I was like.

Then, I was like, "I know it sucks that you try and you try but you're still here everyday, but remember, [her first name], all it takes is once."

She got a chuckle out of that.

I'm not always flippant with her like that every time we talk, but I sense her out, and if she seems like she's in the mood for some black humor like the kind she herself occasionally makes, I drop a joke in if it feels right to me.

Resthome black humor (1 of 2): Her comment.

The other day I saw the one resthome resident who's really ready to die already, and I was like, "Hey, how are you doing today?".

"Not bad enough," she was like.