A testimonial from Michelle

An E-mailer had some stuff to get off her chest…

No pun intended.

Take it away, Michelle….

my experience with the ghetto type

I wanted to share a incident I sadly got in to recently.
My boyfriend and I were at the grocery store, by the butcher counter just looking at the different selections. When These two women walked by talking amongst themselves. My boyfriend over heard their conversation which he found interesting, I’ll say. They were saying that this particular grocery store “always over charges for everything!!”. He then repeated what he heard, quietly to me his exact words were “that woman just said they overcharge for everything here”…He couldn’t understand why they would be shopping in this store if they in fact did over-charge for everything (let me mention they had a cart full of items). There’s a lot of other grocery stores in our city all within minutes of each other which includes one directly across the parking lot called Price Right, the kind of store with really cheap food with out the brand names, so why not just go there? Right?
That was that. We went about our business. He didn’t say anything harmful or offensive about this woman. And he didn’t even think he said it loud enough for anyone else to hear him anyway. BUT, one of them did.
So the woman that overheard him said quite loudly to her friend “He just told his girlfriend what I said, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT, AM I NOT ALLOWED TO SAY THAT!” And then started the stare down. You could just feel those eyes burning a hole through you.
So, we know now that she overheard him talking about what he overheard, haha. But, not a big deal…let’s just keep shopping. As we walk by them, they wont take their eyes off of us. As if they are trying to be intimidating. Which there is no need for. But, I could already see where this was heading. We head down an isle and that is when we get followed by one of the women. She’s yelling at the top of her lungs at us (apparently because we didn’t engage her) saying “OH YOU JUST WALK BY! I’LL F*CK YOUR SH*T UP, I’LL F*CK YOUR SH*T UP”. We keep walking, there’s no point in fueling this crazy woman. She keeps it up though. My boyfriend at this point says a few things to her, such as “turn around, you’re annoying” which of course makes her have to fluff her feathers even more and says again that she’ll fuck him up, but this time drags me in to it and says “and your girlfriend wont do anything about it”. First off, because he overheard your conversation, thought it was a little silly and told me blood has to be shed? And you’re going to threaten to beat up a man, because you’re just so tough lady.
When she said that I turned around and said very calmly “You know, you’re acting really ghetto right now and this is embarrassing”. Her response “do you even know what ghetto is?!!!!” Yes, you. No need to explain, the whole store knew by now. She keeps firing off her words, hoping to set us off I’m sure.
My boyfriend and I just continue our shopping. Though I seriously just wanted to get the hell out of there already.
We check out, go to our car and load the groceries in the back. When what do you know, this woman is standing outside of the exit glaring at us. Enough already. We get in and just drive away.
About an hour later, we realize we forgot an item…so we head to a different grocery store (which is right down the street from us) to just grab the item quickly. What do you know? We run in to the same two women at this store.
Great, not this again. I had finally just calmed down. But now do I have to prepare for an attack or something?
Thankfully this encounter went better. All that was said from the loud mouth tough *ss was “see you at your next stop sweety”.

What a crazy, crazy experience. I found myself just confused. Why would someone act like that over such? What was the need? Is this a western where you have to duke it out or else?
What is there to prove? Who can get arrested faster? I mean, was I really expected to fight this woman over the words that were exchanged between herself and my boyfriend? Did she really want him to fist fight her?

Ghetto. Ghetto. Ghetto.

And here’s where I’ll mention that these women were white! And I’m throwing that in because reading a lot of the comments on your blog, I have noticed that a lot of the people commenting like to jump on you and say you’re racist and assume that you’re speaking of one race. Without taking the time to think, obviously.

Well, that is all.

Thank you for your time,

Michelle

Actually, that wasn’t all…

and just to be clear

Despite my subject on the first email stating “my experience with the ghetto type” this is not my only. In my 26 years I’ve run in to, went to school with even had friends and friends of friends as a kid that fall in to this category. But this was just over the top for me at my age. I felt like I was in high school all over again.

Well, peanut gallery…you’re welcome to weigh in.

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

Yo, 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?

#43: Cookout holidays

There’s three types of holidays:
-the giftin’ kind (e.g. Chrismaboxihanukwanzakah AKA the whole month of December, Mother’s Day), where women and children always want some sh*t…
-the drinkin’ kind (NYE, St. Pats, Cinco de Mayo…really, all of them, but specifically those), the bar’s, club’s, liquor store’s, and freeloading female’s best friend, and…
-the grillin’ kind (could be the whole season of summer, but specifically Memorial Day weekend, July 4th weekend, and Labor Day weekend).

This is the type of holiday where there’s suddenly not a parking space in sight, mad kids you never met will be runnin’ around, and e’ybody feel like they can throw down. Swear they got the best ribs, the best carne asada, the best chicken, best brisket or brats or links.

Vegetarians, as you have probably figured out by now, ain’t welcome and the ghetto people who make up the bulk of the crowd will feel threatened by them and make remarks about how they can’t live without meat! So they’re up crap’s creek unless they’re interested in the potato salad with paprika and eggs and green onions and other random *ss ingredients (what in holy hell is a pimento?).

Anyway, all these foods you will take a plate of home, then forget all about as it goes bad inside your fridge…because you already know too many cooks spoil the pot(luck), but you gotta humor the sensitive bastards who made it lest you get made to feel feel guilty…

And of course you know what else is gonna happen when ghetto people get pepped up. That’s right, sweet babies, your ears will bear witness to the f*ckery known as a soundclash (clash being the key part of that term). Because there will be that DJ that doesn’t give a f*ck enough to have turntables as he opts for his dual CD player and a zip case full of bootlegs and burns of the same damn Tupac and reggaeton and oldies you can hear on a day heading home from work played with no kinda blends involved. That dude is also unequivocally over 35. And his opponent: that one cousin or boyfriend who swears his trunk rattlin’ *ss Chevy is bumpin’, so he just GOTS to have his door wide open as he wears Young Jeezy the f*ck out.

Oh, but there will be a wildcard, and that’s that dude that rides the wide *ss Harley with fringes on it. He’s sure to come rip snortin’ in the dance like he’s the absolute don playin’ Teddy Pendergrass or whatever super-lover artist was hot when he was younger.

Total noise pollution (which could get uglier if the karaoke starts) to add on to the air pollution of the burning flesh of the piggy piggy. Because the ghetto cookout just isn’t fine if the attendees can’t dine on swine. It’s a party, y’all, to which the 20-somethings will have blunts in rotation, the 13-year-old girls will bang out the stank dance of the month, and that one uncle the family suspiciously knows about is in the background grabbin’ his meat.

What, I was just talkin’ about the sliced beef!

You can’t make this stuff up #4

In the immortal words of Black Sheep’s Mista Lawnge, “Vaaaaaan Damme!”

Of course we knew Jacko’s name would be used to make mad people money (and ratings–say hi, BET!)…and of course people go mad in the process:

Because yeah, Michael Jackson not only makes people hungry on the evening dinner hunt, but in the obvious way he was out to shape his image, he really wanted his name associated with fried chicken.

Hoodie Award winning fried chicken at that. And as insult to injury, they had the nerve to not even offer white meat.

The hood shows in very laughable and shameless ways that it sometimes just doesn’t get it. Vaaaaaan Damme…

#35: Mixing liquor into soft drink bottles

Ghetto people love self-medicating just like anyone who frequents bars on Friday nights or grips a bag of smoke for a night of laughs over Madden. Thing is, ghetto people get it in so often, and knowingly in the most inappropriate times, that they have to find sneaky ways to accomplish the buzz they need.

Weed smokers have the pipe that’s shaped and colored like a metal cigarette (which this author can’t imagine feels good to rock between the lips when it gets extra hot, but it is nifty). Drinkers have the flask as one option, but warm liquor is quite vile, screwface-inducing stuff. Besides a flask looking some kind of way to own, your average round-the-clock alki doesn’t want to get caught making said screwface after a sip, so he needs a way around it.

Enter a bottle of your average soft drink.

Rum & Coke. Jack & Coke (Jack Daniels really needs Coke, because it tastes like gasoline). Gin & Socko was an old hood favorite (probably why Socko/Super Socco is absent from the market). And one this author arrived upon, rum in a coconut (Liz Blizz) Sobe!

It started with this African liquor that was on sale called Konyagi (supposedly Tanzanian, don’t care to fact check at the time of writing this). Gripped a bottle of it, sipped the Sobe just past the ridge below the neck, then poured the Konyagi in to just about the top. Give it a shake and, as long as it’s cold enough, you don’t taste anything but the Sobe…alcohol blends right on in so you can enjoy as normal, and the bend simply sneaks up on you later. So all you ghetto types who drink before you get in the club got something for the drive on the way there. Or the bus for any day of the week.

On one condition. Make dead sure that *ss mixes in some Orbit gum for your vomit breath…and use clear rum. Don’t be ghetto enough to commit the dummy move of this author and use a gold rum, lest you have this loud-with-alcohol swill that looks like you poured milk from your cereal into the toilet you just whizzed in. Also make sure you have somewhere worth going to and chilling at for a while, so you won’t be forced to have the mixer chilling in the freezer on a bunk night where you end up limping home early.

One benefit of the mixed rum & Sobe being in the freezer is that it usually won’t really freeze, and if it does, it melts rather quickly, so it’s immediately crispy cold and ready to go for the lush in you. Until next time, don’t say I never did anything for you.

Speaking of chicken…part deux (the Oprah edition)

SGPL is not gonna slam a big write up on it here…we’ll just let this and myriad related articles break it down:
http://gothamist.com/2009/05/06/kfcs_denial_of_grilled_chicken_give.php

But honestly, after debacles like this one, what was corporate thinking, let alone Oprah and her people? Surely the franchise managers were calling in their horror stories. This author thinks the individual stores learned their lesson on that fateful Monday, that lesson being that these fiendish chickenheads can’t control themselves when “free” and “chicken” form Voltron. And then to put Oprah’s stamp of approval on another run on the chain a week and change later?

Not to mention chaos was bound to ensue when folks could print up as many as they liked, with a new number for each.

Sometimes I wonder…maybe Dave Chappelle’s jokes involving chicken weren’t far off the mark.

On a related note, a cat told me that his girl got a text saying “Oprah gave the white people money and cars, she gives us chicken and it ain’t even fried!”

Speaking of chicken…

Sometimes 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?

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?

Obama Fried Chicken?

Figures this is in New York City, a place where the fried chicken truly sucks. The Bangladeshi owner probably needed all the help he could get for anyone to patronize his eatery.

BTW, what is it about these shacks and selling all these vast varieties of different foods that simply shouldn’t be sold together? You see that list on the marquee? Jack of all trades and a master of none much?

#21: Sunflower seeds

People from many walks of life like sunflower seeds (also known as “polly seeds,” the reason of which probably lost on anyone you ask), but ghetto people in particular make the most curious case study.  Quite tasty with their roasted flavor, you would think one would prefer to buy and inhale the already dehulled packs of sunflower nuts and cut out the middleman.  Yet the in-shell seeds are by far the most popular in the ghetto, which they show quite adept skill at cracking in their mouths as they eat.  Ever wonder why?

Apparently there’s something about spitting the shells all over the place and making a huge, wet, nasty smelling mess, at school (especially a favorite with the fast and sassy middle school set), on the bus, movie theater, wherever thee f*ck they feel like eating them at, while cursing like sailors in banal and boisterous conversations with their little friends. Perfect display of the average ghetto person’s “I don’t give a f*ck” attitude. Leave sunflower seed shells scattered on any random floor and force someone else to sweep up after you as you simply take off and go about your business. As the Legion of Doom song went in the WWF, what a rush!

But karma is a mean mother.  Since ghetto people consume so many of these extremely salty sunflower seeds over their lifetime, eventually the pharmacy gets its man in the form of all these folks that need high blood pressure medicine for the rest of their lives.  It’s probably why they also sell a lot of this great American snack, right next to the pork skins and Funyons: it’s a capital investment.

And oh yeah, they’re available in BBQ flavor too, which only the ghetto could appreciate.

#18: Ribs by Chris

Ghetto people have been enjoying ribs for many years.  With its succulent and sweet sauce and its ability to make one tired from eating them, no wonder it’s been a popular (if not most popular) food of choice for Ghetto folks from coast to coast. 

Whether it’s at a neighborhood block party, or at the local Applebee’s, Ghetto people have been ordering up the fare with reckless abandon.  While there are two different animals that provide ribs (cow and pig) make no mistake the Ghetto folk never hesitate to take the pork over the beef. 

As an added bonus, after the Ghetto person sucks off the sauce he or she can then fashion the seemingly useless bone into a shank or shiv, a perfect weapon for the upcoming domestic dispute with their baby mama, or perhaps in a prison brawl which will surely be in a Ghetto person’s future.