Rapper's Delight

Chowing on a Big Mac, french fries and a super sized diet coke with my old college roommate, it was a long overdue opportunity for us to get together and catch up. Although it would have been more enjoyable sans kiddos sipping a French Martini at PF Chang's, or the Outback...I was more than happy to meet at the McDonald's just off the highway to eat my weight in fried food as our children climbed on the germ-infested outdoor play land.

Dipping my crispy hot french fries in the gooey sweet and sour sauce, we talked about how hard it is to lose weight these days. I think we had the same conversations back in college over the same exact meal. It seems not too much has changed! In between potty breaks and wiping runny noses, we managed to get in a few giggles and reminisce about old times. She is back in graduate school and up to her ears in research, reading and writing papers. I do not miss those days at all! Although, just hearing her talk about the stress of writing reminded me that I should really get going on my next blog post. So, instead of writing about something really meaningful - you know, a piece that could actually earn me a graduate degree - I thought I would write about Rap music. Ergo, the subject of today's blog. To make it sound more intelligent and worthy of your time, let's title it, "A Comparative Analysis of Rap Music and the Memories in My Life." Or, something like that.

I'm not sure why this rhythmically challenged 38-year-old white woman has such fond memories of rap music. I'm not exactly the demographic that P. Diddy, Puff Daddy, Sean Combs (or whatever he goes by these days) thinks of when he signs his next artist to Bad Boy Records. With that said, each time I hear a particular song on the radio, it immediately brings me back to a special place in time. And it's funny how much things have changed.

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but XM radio seems to be reliving the days of Rapper's Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang. This is sort of the "Leave it to Beaver" of rap music. Written in 1976, when I was the wee age of 4, this song exemplifies when things were really good - even for angry black men.

i said a hip hop the hippie the hippie
to the hip hip hop, a you don't stop
the rock it to the bang bang boogie say up jumped the boogie
to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat
have you ever went over a friends house to eat
and the food just ain't no good
i mean the macaroni's soggy the peas are mushed
and the chicken tastes like wood
so you try to play it off like you think you can
by sayin that you're full
and then your friend says momma he's just being polite
he ain't finished uh uh that's bull

Really? That's some intense stuff! Now, I didn't really listen to Rapper's Delight when I was 4, but having heard it a zillion times, I sure have an appreciation for it now.

My next rap memories stem from high school. Ahhhh, so much fun. Sports, cheer leading, Friday night football games, and the fastest little red Geo metro on the block.  I think back to the days of when I was skinny. I even prided myself on not being allowed to donate blood. I simply couldn't make the weight. So sad. Unfortunately, my skinny period came at a time when fashion consisted of high-waisted pants with pleats, rayon blouses with shoulder pads, and bangs that could dwarf Mike Tyson. Oh the irony of it all!

Although rap music was getting a little more provocative with "artists" such as 2 Live Crew, my favorites were still pretty "G-rated." Vanilla Ice was all the rage. Who knew such a dorky white guy would pave the way for Eminem? Oh, and I can't forget that my "then boyfriend" and "now husband" almost ditched taking me to the Junior Prom because MC Hammer - a very prolific performer of his time - was playing at some Hall on the same night. I almost didn't get to debut my sparkly blue, one shoulder, knee length stunner of a prom dress. I am so thankful he "chose" me instead of "You Can't Touch This." But my favorite rap memory from high school has to be rocking out to Rob Base's "It Takes Two."

I wanna rock right now
I'm Rob Base and I came to get down
I'm not internationally known
But I'm known to rock the microphone
Because I get stoopid, I mean outrageous
Stay away from me if you're contagious
'Cause I'm the winner, no, I'm not the loser
To be an M.C. is what I choose 'a
Woo! Ya! Those were the days.

Then came college. Now, I'm not sure if my taste in "college" rap music was at all influenced by the fact that I chose a university in a town known for its cow poo smell, or if it in fact was popular on a much larger scale. Did everyone beer bong to Naughty by Nature's "OPP" blaring in the background? Or, what about hopping up and down in beer sludge, with your arms in the air and a beer in one hand to "Jump Jump" by Kris Kross? Nothing like a bunch of 21 year olds jamming out to 12 and 13 year old rap artists. What a lame era in music. The only thing that was not lame was the fact that I upgraded my red Geo Metro to a slick black Geo Storm. Oh, yes I did.

Next comes a very sad time in my long love affair with rap music. After graduating from college, I moved to Seattle. Bye bye Rap. It actually turned out to be a very exciting time for music - especially in the rainiest city on earth. The radio waves were monopolized by a new and exciting sound called Grunge. It seems as though angry black men were out, and poor white guys wearing re purposed flannel shirts were in. If I had an iPod, the play list at that time would have consisted entirely of Nirvana, Sound Garden, and Pearl Jam. This actually worked out well for me considering I, too, was poor and could only afford clothes from the Salvation Army. My husband and I still struggle to figure out most of the lyrics sung by Eddie Vedder - although you don't have to understand the words to love the music.

Chicago was the next stop on the rap train. It was quite fitting that we bought a condo in the blackest neighborhood in the city. In fact, when I sat at the bus stop every morning before work, I was the only white chick for at least a mile. And one mile can be a very, very long bus ride in the city. But it didn't matter to me. In fact, they really like me. I think everyone sensed my love of rap music and instantly accepted me as one of their own.

My secretary, Roxie, would groove out in front of my office singing, "Apache...Jump on it!" Man she could break it down before morning coffee.  I, however, preferred eating fried chicken strips for breakfast listening to 50 cent.

Go, shorty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's your birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
And you know we don't give a fuck
cause it's not your birthday!

It wasn't my birthday, but I was short. Maybe that's why I liked it so much. I've also never had a pimp, or had pigs try to get at me, but that didn't stop me from loving Snoop Dogg's "Drop it Like its Hot."

When the pimp's in the crib ma
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it's hot
Park it like it's hot
Park it like it's hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it's hot
Pop it like it's hot
Pop it like it's hot

Now that I'm back in Yakima, I am proud to say that I still enjoy rap music, although I tend to be a little more old school. Maybe because old school rap is the only thing suitable for a car full of three children. I'd much rather they hear about "chicken that tastes like wood" as opposed to "nigga's poppin anything." I'll save songs like those for the glorious moments I happen to be in the car by myself - which is almost NEVER.

This "rap journey" has made me come to realize something very important about myself. While some people realize late in life that they might be a man trapped in a woman's body, or a woman trapped in a man's body...I just might be a black girl trapped in a white girl's body. I have all the signs. A big butt, big boobs, big attitude, and self esteem. Who knew it would take 38 years to have this cathartic moment? Well, it might take some time getting used to, but I am ready to embrace my inner blackness. So, to close, I would like to honor Jay Z...

Can i get a what? what?
Bounce wit me. Bounce wit me.