Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Down to The Hood

One of my massage clients lives smack dab in the middle of The Hood.

As in THE HOOD.

Her neighbors are nice enough, just a little scary.

I wouldn't be caught dead there after dark.

The good news is that I totally rolled up in there today listening to Snoop Dogg so I kind of fit in.

There's a group of ladies that meet once a week on the lawn across the street.

It's just like my mom's book club except with cannabis and beer and no books.

One of the ladies has a prescription for the cannabis due to her glaucoma, so it's like, totally legit, ok?

They roll a couple of joints and pass them around while yelling at the recently-out-of-school kids walking down the street to not even think about doing drugs.

This afternoon I was offered my very first drag.

Ah, sweet acceptance into The Hood.

I said, "No, thanks, I don't smoke the Mary-Jew-Juana."

Apparently they were already sufficiently high because good grief, there were several honest-to-goodness knee slaps and loud, raucous laughter.

And then this, "GURL!  No you di'int!  Mama!  You heya dat?  She say she don smoke the mary-jew-juana!"

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