Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Down to The Hood

One of my massage clients lives smack dab in the middle of 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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