Category Archives: ghetto

#58: Twitter

Those of you who actually get down on Twitter shouldn’t even be surprised that it’s going on this list. Ghetto people love to tweet. And you can look in every single trending topic…it’s gonna be a majority percentage of ghetto people posting to it. Swearing they know what the hell they’re talking about. When usually it’s just some silly street sh*t they heard a few of their little friends say based on the latest rap song, then they run and tweet that like it’s the gospel.

And of course, just like any social media that falls into ghetto hands, there’s tons of sluts in the building too, with avatars of cleavage or the booty in nothing but panties, who for some odd reason have the nerve to post those little inspirational tweets. Shut the entire hell up, you ain’t no guru…ain’t you like 19? So many under-dressed broads who claim how Christian they are (as if that stands anyone on their ears) populate Twitter, it’s like you’re on BlackPlanet: The Next Generation.

Though they are fun to toy with on the Formspring app…but I digress.

Anyway, you can read these tweets and tell what really matters to ghetto people. One huge obsession is CHEATING. It’s a sign if the times really, because this world is fascinated with cheating, and ghetto people are no exception. So many of the ghetto population are products of misdirected lovin’, it’s only natural.

Not to mention one can look at the “following” versus “followers” of many ghetto Tweet-fiends and the high school tendencies that only a ghetto person can appreciate become clear, like the narcissism and begging for attention, the e-thuggery, the yappin’ all day about nothing…

But one has to admit, ghetto people are the spice of Twitter. Because otherwise one would be left with tweets about the Jonas Brothers or someone tryna plug their penis pump website or something.

BTW, you should follow us too!

#53: BlackPlanet

It has to suck to be BlackPlanet. Yes, even after Friendster, Myspace, Facebook, and such, it still exists. For one, it doesn’t even get the credit it deserves from mainstream culture of predating the aforementioned by at least three years in the social networking game (even its Wikipedia page gets no love). Secondly, it has the sterling reputation of having been turned out by ghetto people.

And I do mean ghetto people of all races, so now that we have that out the way…

At first, it was as innocent as any other social networking site’s humble beginnings. A few people in the know did their thing on there, met new people, introduced their local crew or school friends or their peeps from other online communities to play along. Kept nice and quaint, folks got to exchange ideas and it was never a bad day.

Then the ghetto people got their hands on it and it evolved. Into some other sh*t. Females of all ages began letting it all hang out. Thirsty macks who never used a computer before suddenly started aggressively hollerin’. A billion and one accounts sprung up for the sole purpose of showing off all of “BP’s_Dymes.” This evolved into the what this author knows as “the BlackPlanet effect.”

The BlackPlanet effect is a muthaf*cka. You see it on all kinds of sites now, social networking and otherwise, but this generally began on BlackPlanet. Bad web design habits (e.g. way too much computer-crashing crap on one page). Obnoxious songs posted up. Gassed up ghetto girls who think they’re professional models. And worst of all, BlackPlanet is basically known as the place to specifically look for someone ready to f*ck, so you always see women posting up bitter sh*t like the following:

“HI, BEFORE I GET STARTED, KNOW UP FRONT I DON’T DO MARRIED MEN, I AIN’T INTERESTED IN NO THREESOME BECAUSE I ALREADY HAD ONE WHEN I WAS 15, I DON’T WANT A MAN WITH KIDS (THOUGH I HAVE TWO OF MY OWN BY TWO BABY DADDIES), AND I AIN’T MESSIN WITH NO BROKE N*GGAZ BECAUSE I AM SOME-BODY AT MY TELEMARKETING JOB, SO KEEP IT PUSHIN’! LESBIANS NEED TO FALL BACK TOO, BECAUSE I AM STRICKLY D*CKLY! PRAISE GOD FOR I AM A SAVED CHRISTIAN WOMAN! NOW CHECK OUT THESE GLITTERY TIDDY PICS WITH ME AND MY GuRLZ AT THE STRIP CLUB!”

That is if you were added, since the pages of these people on any of these sites are frequently set to private as if these people are really anything special. Trust, quite a lot of them are fools’ gold..same people who still think an Internet site filled with real people out to set off real events is a video game.

Anyway, why would these burned out on life *ss people have any appeal for adding and talking to anyway? Why be on BlackPlanet at all if it’s that bad? For attention? For the appeal of dissing someone who tries to holla because it doesn’t have the repercussions of in-person rejection?

Does anyone else understand this?

Shirts Ghetto People Like

The ghetto world is known for wearing some wild *ss shirts. The hood may not have started the white tee thing, for example, but it sure took it to the extreme. And ghetto people are a surefire audience for the shirts you see at the swap meet or at the beach boardwalk with big *ss weed leaves on them or cuss words in massive block letters (e.g. Don’t Ask Me 4 Sh*t, a classic shirt this author could use when talking to women I wanna take out, but I digress)

Anyway, let’s document a little of what’s out there (in order from top to bottom). For instance, the hater enthusiasts are covered with authority.
A ghetto person just can't call their wardrobe complete without celebrating an irreverent song lyric that describes them to a T (pun intended). Of course one shirt bound to be on many ghetto backs celebrates the hood’s favorite skin art and Too Short’s favorite word all in one. Last but not least to be celebrated together are hood icons and bad design. Happy shopping.
PIC-0169successhaters<–This will especially be appreciated by the baller in your life this Christmas!
PIC-0175PIC-0168PIC-0258PIC-0259obamashirt

#44: T.G.I. Friday’s–and other “bar and grills”

tgifridaysYo, f*ck T.G.I. Friday’s.

No, really…f*ck T.G.I. Friday’s.

I mean, as a restaurant, Friday’s is cool, you can slide off in there and get a proper meal that’ll stick to your ribs, feel good about life with the game or some random ESPN show on in the background.

The goddamn bars they have in them, however, are complete ghetto douchebag conventions.

And since ghetto people have a bad habit of f*cking off all the dedicated bars in town, leaving the security guards of said defunct establishments needing a post to work, you end up finding both varieties of meatheads converging on the local Friday’s. Somehow Friday’s shines as this supposed place to be.

This is especially the case in ghetto suburbs. Because these are places where the dedicated bars never existed to begin with, there’s a true obnoxiousness level one finds himself steeped in the minute they walk in. It’s hard for this author to wrap his head around. How in holy hell did Friday’s just become like the sh*t to ghetto people?

Really, it’s the douchiest place in the world. It’s lit like the developers of each location went nuts buying up the local f*ckin’ Lamps Plus. Other features of the decor make you think a barber pole just threw up on its walls and tables after having too many Friday’s drinks. Crowd consists of wannabe fat cat cigar smokers, the motorcycle club delegation (often Ruff Ryders), mutant looking females in the building to test drive the hair they just got done…for Friday’s of all places. How the hell does one try to get chose up in Friday’s? Whether it’s macking or bringing a date, you can’t hear a goddamn thing in there! And it gets stupid packed too. Ghetto people pack lots of patience for Friday’s because most people with half a brain and any dignity dig in their heels, spin 180 degrees and jump it off elsewhere.

It can easily be like this at the hood Chili’s, hood Applebee’s, hood Bennigan’s, what have you…but ALL T.G.I. Friday’s spots get this way after 4pm. This author is surprised they don’t just splurge for a DJ that likes to play Baha Men and Wang Chung, charge a dub admission, and introduce bottle service so ghetto people can really feel they’re doing it big.

Anyone reading this, please explain why the hell T.G.I. Friday’s is so f*ckin’ popular?

Change is good.

Some alterations were necessary, and more will come in the near future.

Most notably among such changes, that stupid chicken and watermelon homeless man header had to go. Frankly, it was a bad reflection of this site’s entire steez. Don’t get it twisted, we’re not putting on kidgloves here and watering down the product…it’s simply that this site need not be taken the wrong way.

UPDATE: I’ve also officially had enough of the completely anonymous, corny hit-and-run comments that don’t add on to the value of the blog, so the free-for-all is officially over. Sorry, commentators, as you’ll see, you’re no longer allowed to hide. Ain’t no fun if this author can’t have none. I don’t care if SGPL can’t buy a comment on most days…quality over quantity. I’d rather have no comments than stupid/racist pot shots from people I can’t get a fair one with.

Now, back to waxing ghetto…

#29: Special occasion corner vending

PIC-0131We all know the hood loves hustling…and we all know the hood loves hustlers.  This might be what allows a certain breed of hustlers to turn on a dime.  A brother once told this author that hustling is about finding what the people want or need and providing it for them.

Easily this is what’s going on when those damn tents get set up on every block during weekends, holidays, big concerts, event sports, and such.  Team car flags, the bootleg T-shirt of the month with the name of the ghetto hit song on the front, weird throw rugs, umbrellas when it rains, what have you.  Back after the September 11th attacks happened, these folks were literally on it the very next day with American flags.  One would swear there’s an all-purpose corner hustle warehouse all the street vendors converge on where the aforementioned is available along with the usual oils, incense, and fake Jordans.

I even once saw this Mexican cat selling boxing and martial arts equipment (because ya never know when someone passing by was thinking of training with a heavy bag for their living room).  As said in a past post, it’s a bazaar every single day in the hood.

But by far this author’s favorite is when the people pop up with them funky *ss gift baskets (AKA ghetto grab bags).  Without fail, every Valentine’s, Easter, Father’s Day, and especially Mother’s Day weekend, there they are…sometimes one on all four corners of an intersection.

PIC-0132And what’s in these baskets?  Myriad bullsh*t, basically.  One could probably slap together baskets with Smarties left over from Halloween, used panties, a jar of styling gel, dried-out incense, old condoms they got from the free clinic, bootleg DVDs they’re done watching, a pair of earrings that gave their previous owner keloids in her nose (!), and a stuck-together copy of King magazine, with a bed of dead grass clipped from their front yard, wrapped up in a see-thru trash bag and make a killing.

Since no two are alike, surely there’s some ghetto woman tacky enough to have a basket collection in her house akin to some nerdy fanboy who collects Transformers. Probably wants the hypothetical gift basket I just described.  And some shrew(d) of a hustler was just given the idea to sell it to her.

Hell, there’s probably some cornball parent who bought one to stash away for the daughter’s prom gift…

#28: Do-rags

PIC-0106Condoms for your head.

It used to be that the fellas would only use do-rags to hold down their pomaded and brushed head of hair while they were indoors, and took it off when going out to show off their waves. Do-rags were for a man what rollers are for women.

When the cornrow craze kicked in in the late 90′s, however, suddenly the ghetto faithful were rockin’ do-rags as accessories. Sweaty *ss, grease-smellin’ do-rag would be worn all. Day. Long while heads were just out ghetto adventurin’. Walkin’ the block, blazin’ on the corner, having sex (or jacking off in the alley if one were so unlucky)…all with a do-rag on his head that he never felt the need to take off. Do-rags were suddenly for a man (or thuggish-ruggish lesbian) what a bra was for a woman.

Even guys who were stone bald to the point you knew their hair was never coming back wore them, regardless of having a scalp with the shiny finish of a bowling ball.

To make matters worse, fools would layer two or even three different colored do-rags on their dome, with one of those douchey baseball caps (stickers and all, of course) tilted on as a cherry on top, and you better believe that whole clusterf*ck on his head is matching the fake Jordans on his feet. Add in all the aforementioned activity and those synthetic fabrics had to have someone’s head, rags, and cap smelling like sauerkraut with everything all discolored a dark gray like the insole of some hood girl’s ripper slippers (bought from the same shop to line the Koreans’ pockets even more).

And of course the logical end of this fashion statement is the ridiculousness pictured above, sold in 99 cent stores everywhere. You know once something hits the shelves of a 99 cent store, it’s officially done to death.

With the hipster/skater look all the current rage, the do-rags aren’t as prolific as they were when cats were bumpin’ too much Dipset. But you already know there’s nuff ghetto males keeping it alive everyday. Just like those hood urchins who still had jheri curls in the late 90s or leisure suits in the 80s.

You can’t make this stuff up…

Caught while out on the daily grind, this woman’s just dancing her *ss off on the corner, really feelin’ herself, with a crummy transistor radio in her hand:
pic-0111
From the pose above, she might have been jammin’ to James Brown…
pic-0109
…or maybe “Bag Lady.”

Speaking of chicken…

pic-01071Sometimes the hood brings the pain in embarrassing fashion.

Kentucky had a promotion today where they were giving away a piece of their Grilled Chicken in order to jump start people paying for some. So your esteemed author figured to swing over to one after the morning business was wrapped up.

I walk in, there’s a line six deep, and I figured I was gonna need to grab a Snickers as I would be in for a long campaign. But that was the pick-up line. The order line was clear. Cool! So I order a couple of Snackers and ask for a free thigh, pay and wait, figuring things would be straightforward.

Not 60 seconds later, a line snakes in back of me ordering with the rush of someone who’s been smokin’ that water. Should be neither here nor there, one would think. You think?
pic-01081

Five minutes pass, day laborer types were taking back pieces of chicken that were exposed to the dining area, and the workers were putting them right back under the lamps! (Suspect much? They gave those same pieces out to unsuspecting folks in the drive-thru.) Suddenly this furious pack of old ladies and county broads gets worked to a rich lather…and me with my hurt back listening out for the new material.

“Why don’t they just give us the chicken?!?”
“What are y’all doing back there?”
“At another Kentucky, they would just make a box and pass it out!”

All the loudmouth foolishness you can handle in one afternoon.

One woman sees a Latino cat given three sodas and immediately assumes “Look at them, see? They givin’ they people the hook up.”

OK, cut the crap, lady. Are you seriously assuming they would pull something like so blatant? You think Latinos are incapable of ordering and paying for something? Nah, they’re just randomly dropping free Pepsis on their own kind to stick it to you. Gotta love how the racism comes out when folks get angry.

(As I write this, what’s up with Leonardo DiCaprio with a Grambling cap on his head at the Laker game? Plus, Denver whacks New Orleans 121-63. Goddamn Bizarro World in the NBA…but I digress….)

Five more minutes pass and at that point, they were about ready to break out pitch forks and torches. One twentysomething brother (see guy pointing, top pic) finally goes off, rushes the order counter, yelling “F*ck that! I want my money back! F*ck this sh*t!” I had to call him on that, just as I did the aforementioned civil rights activist.

“There’s babies in here, money. Watch your mouth.”

Of course he didn’t care. And neither did the rest of the mob, so wrapped up in needing their chicken fix that all sense of decency went by the boards.

How about going off like this at the city council meeting to get things done? Where’s this anger about the local gang making trouble or about Black-on-Black crime?

But nah, save that anger…for when goddamn chicken isn’t in your hands fast enough. Preying on people that are doing their jobs as fast as they possibly can. At a place you’ll continue to patronize at that. Not to mention being ungrateful for something that’s free and really isn’t that important in the bigger picture.

All seriousness, the hood is at once a beautiful, vibrant place and its own worst enemy.

Bet tomorrow it’ll be like that at El Pollo Loco too.

And the new product? It’s decent, nothing to write home about.

Anyways, any of you experience similar incidents?

Send in the pictures and videos!

We’re steppin’ in hotta this year!  And you’re welcome to add on.  In addition to guest blogging and requests, we want to see what you see out there amongst the ghetto people.  Crazy club outfits, wild incidents at the Wal-Mart, some ridiculous car customization, all fair game. Any material you want to slide to us is golden (excepting nudity of a sexual nature, unfunny violence, or stuff from other sites).   If it’s usable, it’s here on this site.