Sometimes I feel like it would be so much easier to be a thug than a woman.Think about what I am saying to you women folk. Oh, and being a southern girl at that because we have this reputation of being very passive women. Well, some maybe but not me. I mean wouldn't it just be easier to walk out of the house with my pants hanging down past my butt with high top tennis shoes? Normal people see that and they say, "look at that chicks pants you can see their underwear, where's their belt?" In the south, its "Oh my gawd, did you see that street person. Her pants are way too big, her underwear doesn't match her outfit and I am pretty sure her ass has enough dimples she can play nine holes of golf on it. Bless it, where is her mother?"
Thugs don't care, you make fun of their one gold tooth and they put a cap in your ass or steal your purse. Southern women bob their heads, snap and wave their fingers and call three friends who in turn call four more people they don't know in another town to discuss who wore white after Labor Day. The effing nerve! Who wears white after Labor Day? Shoot.
Thugs smoke crack and Marlboro reds. Southern women smoke windshield pokers like Capri's or Virginia Slim Light One Thousands. I mean they have to because anything closer to lighting near their hair and poof! The aqua net induced bouffant is up in flames. We never cared in the 80's and 90's. The taller the hair the closer to god. Now it's all about making sure while we drink with our pinkies out, our ciggies are long enough to last threw a 20 minute conversation and heaven forbid your kid fall in a pool or scrape their knee. The tragedy is wasting a good smoke on possible death or getting a bandaid.
Thugs talk in code. Yo, Bro, Sup! Southern women have to say hello in five syllables, give you a hug, look you up and down and call you honey. We ask how you are, but do we really care? Yes, we care. We gotta have some crap to gossip about.
Thugs drink Colt 45 and eat Big Macs. Southern women drink Bud Light or wine and eat biscuits with chocolate gravy. This chocolate gravy is a recipe passed down generations, so even though you think it tastes like heated up mud, you make and insist your kid eat it because its a G-D family air loom. Can gravy recipes be air looms? Hum.
My point is this... women and thugs everywhere should join together. Thugs can teach us Southern Belles how to be in the fight club and we can teach them that if they brushed their teeth and used whitening agents then gold would not be necessary for their teeth and they can pawn that shit and buy more white high top sneakers. I mean what southern woman isn't good at finding a bargain? I mean Payless has BOGO. A pair of high tops and get my high heels for half off. Now that's the southern way. Bless our hearts.