Big Sister

So, I was chillin' (hanging out / spending time) at my lil sista's (fake little sister that I do stuff with once a week so that maybe, just MAYBE, she doesn't end up preggars at 15) hood (house, paid for by mwah, my own personal taxes) last week.



I was sitting there, the invisible white girl with the running shorts on, translating the conversation between my little sister's Mom and her neighbors.



Mom to Neighbor: He dun got frrrddd!! GRRRLLLLL.

Me (in my head): What in the H-E-Double "L" did she just say? OOHHH, FIIIRREEDDD!!!! Grrrr? OHHH, GIIIIRRRLLL.



That took 2 minutes.



Neighbor: Doody! Doooooddyy! Sit down!



Me (in my head): Doody? Did she really just call her kid Doody? Well, he is 2 and already sagging his jean shorts...I personally would call him Snoop, what, with the dreads and all.



Oh look, there's the police, that's good that they drive around the neighborhood.



Neighbors Boyfriend / Roomie / Drug Dealer?: F'in po-po. (only he said the real word but I know some of you read this at work)



Me (in my head): Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. Maybe I could talk about the fact that I tried weed once to fit in with this crowd? Maybe I'd be "down" then. Or maybe I'd be that white girl that tried weed once and now she thinks she fits in. F'in cracker. Yea, or maybe I'll just sit here and keep to myself.