Pop Culture Wednesday: The Ratchet My Boughie Won’t Allow

As we know sometimes keeping it real goes wrong, many thanks to the great Dave Chappelle!!!

As we know sometimes keeping it real goes wrong, many thanks to the great Dave Chappelle!!!

Surprise…I’m boughie! I don’t normally wear my boughie on my sleeve because much like the color yellow it doesn’t mesh well with all skin tones. I’ll let that simmer for a minute. However, I pride myself on being able to blend with all types because hey communication is my thing. I enjoy a rousing intellectual battle of wits as much as a shyt talking back and forth about the importance of Nino Brown in my life space. If you don’t know Nino Brown, cancel yourself!!! Any who despite my bourgeois there are a couple ratchet things I find hella appealing but because I’m boughie I’m incapable of partaking. Damn that boughie it burns! If I ran the world I would flip flop between Faith and the Tykeishanetta in my head without consequence. I can’t be the only person who wants to pull a ratchet card out of her back pocket. I could be wrong.

If no consequences existed for delving deep into the rat of the hood behavior I would:

Twerk in Public

I find twerking fascinating, like seriously fascinating. During my quiet time I watch twerk videos because I’m completely and fantastically amazed by the wonders that are women’s backsides and the ways they shake. I fully understand why men find it alluring…not so much arousing but definitely alluring. I confine my twerking to private dressing rooms, the mirrors provide ample opportunity to view my bum from multiple angles. One time the Lil Sister and I had a twerk off competition in a Tar-Jay dressing room while in the midst of trying on bathing suits. Don’t judge us! There have been times when something short of a miracle happens at work and I envision twerking down the halls. Knowing this will not only lead to me losing my shoe allowance but also my self-respect I err on the side of caution and simply say great work guys, we did an amazing job at XYZ. Definitely less fun but keeps my bills paid.

Walk to the Corner Store in a Scarf and Pajama Pants

Corner stores are essential to inner city living. On a hot summer day a homemade ice tea will quench the mightiest thirst, of this I’m 93.7% positive. Bear in mind that the corner store may nor may not be directly around the corner. Knowing this, it is quite possible to walk two to three city blocks in order to get to this Mecca of grocery. And I don’t say Mecca of grocery lightly. Philly corner stores have EV-Very-Thing in them from sugar to shovels and anything you can think of in between. If you need it the corner store will have it. With that in mind imagine waking up to find that you’ve run out of turkey bacon. Oh yeah the corner store does indeed sell turkey bacon. While my ratchet self says hell yeah walk to the corner store in your fresh out the bedroom clothes, the boughie inside refuses to let it go down. A ten minute deviation from breakfast morphs into an hour excursion. Once I’m fully anti Jemima’d and make my way to the store, I run into no less than 5 booga beasts all decked out in the clothing of the ratchet. It is at that moment I stop and wonder why I wasted that half hour prepping for the unkempt masses. Sometimes I’m in my own way.

Speak to Co-Workers & Work Associates in My Blogging Voice

Sometimes I hate this double consciousness. Blogging allows me to use my truest voice. Not that I lie to people but in this house I gives it to you straight with no chaser. Here you know I read good but you also know I keeps it gully. Now work, that’s a place rife with chasers. Most people are more comfortable with partial truths and whole lies disguised as decorum. I can’t call it. But what I do know is that no less than 3 times a day I wish I could pull people to the side and give it to them one hunnid! Yes one hunnid because one hundred is entirely too formal. I recognize that keeping it real can and does goes wrong but it takes up at least 20% of my brainpower stopping myself from going H.A.M! Basically work isn’t getting my full potential.

A phrase I love outside of work is, I wish a bish would. Now this means both I hope this person will do such and so I can in turn do such and so and please don’t let this person do such and so forcing me to act Negrodian in this place. As we know acting Negrodian at work results in immediate HR encounters of the performance management kind and unemployment is bad for my complexion. Even still most of the people I work with wouldn’t even understand the threat implied by the phraseology “I wish a bish would!” Therefore nullifying the whole intention and so I keep my truest thoughts in the tuck.

Just yesterday I wanted to say this to a co-worker with the signature clapping for added emphasis:

Sweetie I’mma need ya bullshytting ass to stay the f*ck up out my inbox before my daddy’s blood gets the best of me because you testing every ounce of my patience. I done told you 50 11 times what I expect. Please! Please! Please stop thinking, it’s hurting ya brain. Work on just doing! Go back and do what the f*ck I told you to do and don’t come back until it’s right.

Anyone who knows me knows when I say Sweetie, it’s not because I’m being nice. This would result in immediate disbelief, thoughts of angry black woman, and crocodile tears. As such I just say, Ok let me understand what you’re saying. Maybe we should try this approach. Work that out for me and come back with the details once everything is fully vetted. Same shit different day.

My boughie keeps me employed and considered a lady. But there are definite times when I’d prefer to take the approach of the hood and let the chips fall where they may. Any who Lovelies, do you ever wish you could unleash the ratchet? If so when and how? Speak on it in the comments and as always to share is to care and hashish!

Advertisements
Comments
2 Responses to “Pop Culture Wednesday: The Ratchet My Boughie Won’t Allow”
  1. iamdashsr says:

    This right here! Full disclosure I work on a IT Service Desk (Help Desk) and talk to IDIOTS all day… Not just Idiots but Government IDIOTS! If I didn’t have this mute button… *looks at the mute button lovingly* I would have been gone postal. Becuase of the fact that I am Fakey McFakerson on the phone all day when I am not around my kids I too revert to keeping it more that a Hunnid. These MoFo’s drive me crazy day in and day out. OH my DAMN… Like just now… I took a BS call to reset a persons PW and started typing this and was rudely interrupted by the same user AGAIN. How the Eff do you not know how to change your Damn PW and manage to screw it up. ARGH.

    But I digress, Twerking Not for me to do… I’m a big dude I’m cool…

    Going to the store (the corner is implied) in my PJ’s Nah… I was riased better than that. Now I have been known to run to the market in sweat pants but no smacks (the ones with no pockets) and my sweat pants are not the cotten ones either. They are more like basketball pants (non-swoshey ones)

    But, when it comes to talking to my co-workers… Oh I keep it one hunnid. They know I have ZERO filter what you hear is what you get. I have no problem telling someone off, within reason I too have grown fond of a paycheck but as long as I tactfully tell someone off I’m good. 😉 But yeah I second… “I wish a MoFo Would” does in fact cross my mind a few times a day… there are even times when it passes my lips.

    • Faith M. says:

      Hola Iamdashsr,

      I wish I had the privilege of being able to tell my co-workers the full extent of my thoughts. Corporate ‘Merica don’t work like that. The PC police would have me booked and headed to the unemployment line post haste. They make you take sensitivity training and what not which is basically the same as saying anything you think you shouldn’t say, find less abrasive words or just say nothing at all. I can’t call it, people have thin skin or something. I grew up with a Marine so there’s nothing any random can say to me that will or can ruffle my feathers. I just don’t care enough…but that’s a whole other post.

      Any who you can replace twerking with any happy dance of your choosing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: