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| "cool poem bro" |
I was very anxious to channel my inner gangsta poet, but had to wait for inspiration and the right time. The right time came in the form of me catching the flu. Inspiration came all on it's own, because thug livin' is my life. I had all day to stay in bed and funnel my ghetto angst into jiggy rhymes that captured my penchance for flow.
The first thing I did was put all the words in alphabetical order on a cookie sheet. Nothing says "Thug Life" quite like teflon.* (*Proof? Click here. Thank you, Urban Dictionary.)
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| I had to leave space at the top so I had room to create. But it's hard to limit genius, y'all. |
Next, I discovered some key words were missing. WTHeck, how am I supposed to write any kind of masterpiece without key words like "Imma" or "tryna" or "booty"? So I did what anyone with Hood Acumen would do: I got out my trusty label maker.
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| The other night I had a dream that I let Kanye West and Jay-Z get into their zone. That sh*t CRAY. |
Then, I had to decide what form my poetry would take. A sonnet, perhaps? A limerick? Naaaahhh, Imma go with Haiku 'cuz I got a Japanese cuz.* (*This totally makes no sense but makes me deliriously happy because "cuz" almost equals a homophone
Here are a few Ghetto Haiku's for your reading pleasure. You can send your appreciation to Rose.
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| Puddled on the floor because the two year old wanted to pour it all.by.himself. thankyouverymuch. |
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| werd. |
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| My inspiration for this work was Ezra. The same inspiration inspired a transition to a big boy bed. |
Right as I was perfecting my pièce de résistance, the unthinkable happened. My label maker ran out of label. I was all, "Dude."
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| This is my label maker that gave until it had nothing else to give. This is my hand saying, "Dude." |
A good blogger would have typed some words on the computer, printed them out, cut them out, glued them to magnets, and used them. I remembered I had yellow sticky notes.
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| What up, Pampers? |
In closing, here is a picture of Rose and I at the Red Carpet Run. Brian is throwing up the midwest gang sign because that's why I married him.
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| Midwest 4 Life Rollin' down the street, in my Chevy, sippin' on Faygo Laid back (with my air conditioner and my furnace both on in the same day) |
I love it!!! I especially love the fact that you felt the need to make the D-Bag Magnetic Poetry set MORE gangsta! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Larissa! I thought you, with your own love for all things Michigan and Detroit, would appreciate my Midwest rap domination. But seriously, how do you leave "DOPE" out of the D-Bag poetry kit? (Favorite word not used? "Dayam")
DeleteThis was hysterical. But your haiku were actually really good. I mean, aside from the d-bag linguistics. Or maybe because of the d-bag linguistics. I'm undecided. But I'm super jealous now. I want a set so that I can leave d-bag-y messages to Carter on the fridge.
ReplyDeleteYou should totally get some. I'm sure Carter would appreciate it. And I love that you used d-bag-y as an adjective. That's like twenty grammar gold stars for awesomeness. You are officially AMAZE BALLS. (You're welcome.)
DeleteThanks for that final gem of a caption. Snoop Dogg has been stuck in my head for several days now. (And yes, I did just google Snoop Dogg to remember the correct spelling.)
ReplyDeleteThat's why you're my friend.
DeleteP.S. He's a Lion, now. He had a spiritual awakening. Probably from all that d.o.p.e. Awesome.
Oh....emmm...gee...that last link had me doubled over. Ranch dressing is the accent to any good Midwestern meal, if not the main course :)
ReplyDeleteMuch midwest love to ya,
EmDub
Midwest 4 Life, yo! Also, I've been looking around and have decided that I will know I am officially old when I wear an appliqued cardigan. Or an appliqued sweater vest. Or holiday themed socks that I wear in earnest, and not just to be an ironic hipster.
DeleteI buy like 6 bottles of ranch dressing at a time, so yeah, midwest through and through!