Wednesday, February 25, 2015

History of Rap

It was just the perfect moment: DH and I were on a couple's vacation, strolling arm in arm, relaxed and happy by the sea. People-watching a bit. We saw some guy taking drinks out of a funky big container and DH said, "What's he sipping?"

"I dunno," I said, "gin and juice?"

DH lost his mind. "Bwahaha! Oh my gawd dearie that was awesome! Quoting gangsta rap! You get a kiss for that!" *smooch*

Wait - what?! I get a kiss? For that? This is a thing? We've been together for, like, eleven years or something and I didn't know this was a thing?

I should point out that, while I think I'm the most hilarious person I know, DH really doesn't seem to share that view. It's rare for him to actually laugh at anything I say or do, unless it involves personal injury. So he was standing there wiping away tears, still chuckling to himself, and I moved rapidly from a state of incredulity to a state of, oh yes. It is ON.

Ever since that day it has been like a game, a secret game that I play: What might I say that could get me a similar reaction? When might I naturally work gangsta rap quotes into my day-to-day, exceedingly suburban-middle-class life? How might I capture them accurately with my weird little voice and my Prairies accent?

Six months later, it turns out this may well have been a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. First of all, I had to look up gangsta rap on the internet to find out what it was, exactly, then I went looking for quotes and discovered - well, it seems I find a lot of it fairly distasteful. I actually like police officers and, y'know, women. This ruled out a great deal of the more 'quotable' quotes, while my aforementioned lifestyle rendered much of the genre simply inapplicable.

I settled for shouting, "Take hits from the booong!" at the dinner table one night after slurping the last of a mixed-berry smoothie.

It, um, didn't really work out quite as well as the first time. I used my best nasally fake-screaming voice and everything so I'm not sure where I went wrong. Maybe it was the smoothie. The kids barely glanced at me - their apparent immunity suggests I may shout out crazy things more frequently than I would care to admit - and DH just made a face and said, "Why are you yelling Cypress Hill at supper?"

Now you know, dear. It was all for you.

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