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!"