You aren't tough. Sorry, you're not. Now cut it out.

The BBQ Pit
1

You.

Yeah, you.

You. The pale, skinny kid who just got out of the back of mommy’s shiny new Porsche SUV, who is, for some odd reason, singling ME out for the three-mile stare.

Nice throwback jersey. You even know who Willis Reed was? And you’re swimming in that size-medium, kid. Guess you borrowed it from the same ridiculously fat kid who lent you those pants.

Keep looking at me all hard-guy. I’m sorta intimidated by the fact that you smoke. Bad-asses smoke, I suppose. But last I checked, only the baddest of the bad filched Virginia Slims from mommy and kept them in an audiocassette case. So I suppose I should be shaking.

Shit. You know you’re supposed to inhale, right?

Son, you got a panty on your head. That whole “nylon-stocking cap” thing is supposed to keep cornrows tight. All it’s doing for you is mussing up that blonde, pageboy, SuperCuts special you’ve got going on. But I guess it’s keeping that ten-gallon baseball cap in place somehow. Did they run out of your size at the Sports Authority, or is that same fat kid rummaging through his closet, muttering, “I know it’s here SOMEWHERE?”

And still you’re looking at me. Maybe you think I’m staring you down behind these sunglasses, but honestly, I’m waiting for the call to tell me what movie to buy tickets for. Now you’re into this elaborate dance that involves a lot of shoulder-shrugging and jutting your chin in my direction. There’s no one else around, so you must be talking to me (sorry, Bobby DeNiro).

So, let me get this off my chest once and for all:

YOU ARE NOT FROM THE STREETS. We’re in east-ass SUBURBIA. The movie theater is the tallest building for MILES (except for the mall’s parking garage). You aren’t tough. You’re not. Stop. Go get some clothes that fit and maybe eat a sandwich, you skinny idiot.

I lived in the Bronx (and not the nice part) for eight years. Got jumped on my own street once. I lived in the Eighth Ward in New Orleans, Louisiana. Got scars to show from that, too. I’m tough. You are NOT TOUGH.

I’m not sure if you’re spatially disoriented, but I’ve also got four inches and forty pounds on you. If I were anything else but sickeningly amused by you, or if you were to play your little MC Hammer game any closer to me, I could (and might) reduce you to an easily hosed-away red efucking smear on the concrete.

Sorry. I just moved to New Jersey. The novelty of these little catalog-shopping hoodlumettes is starting to wear thin.

2

Out of curiosity, how old was Tough Guy?

3

Should have kicked him in the balls. The swelling might have helped make his pants fit.

4

Well, you obviously haven’t seen L.L. Beano 's Fall line yet. You simply can’t pass it up.

5

Kids like this are pathetic. I see it all the time out here and it makes me cringe every time I do. Just like the little scrawny punks that wear their pants down around their ass cracks. Makes me want to buy them a belt or some suspenders because they are OBVIOUSLY too poor to buy these items themselves. :rolleyes:

6

Porsche makes an SUV?! Yo yo!

7

Nice rant. I don’t normally offer Rant-ratings, but I give it a solid 9.

Sam

8

You’ve been reading my spam?

9

Amusing anecdote:

I was getting into my car to leave the Target parking lot when I was treated to the sight and sound of a kid in a red sportscar blaring bass-heavy angst-rap and screeching his tires through the lot. He got out just as I pulled out of my space, and I just couldn’t resist.

“It’s ok, we all can see you have a huge penis,” says I.

“Fuck you!” he responds.

“No thanks,” says I. “You’re clearly too much man for me.”

And I pulled away to his incoherent fuckety-fucks and the smirks of several pedestrians.

It felt good.

10

How old was he? Dunno. Not very, apparently.

I don’t get the big-pants thing. Oddly enough, I was just walking back from lunch when I pass this dude who’s wearing one of those crushed-velour-or-whatever sweatsuits. The front of the sweatpants is where it should be, at the waist- but the back of the sweatpants is- I’m telling the honest truth here- TUCKED UNDER THE BOTTOM OF HIS ASS. The only thing that is saving this dude from an indecent-expousure ticket is- still honest truth here- HIS WHITE WIFEBEATER IS PULLED TIGHTLY DOWN OVER HIS ASS AND THEN TUCKED INTO THE SWEATPANTS.

And again with the hard-guy shit. Oh, sweet Jesus in a whorehouse. You cannot (and I can’t stress this enough), CAN-FUCKING-NOT look intimidating when your whole image screams “I Got Halfway Pantsed.”

Sweet living fuck. Come get me, tough guy. How in the name of all that is holy are you going to enter a sustained fight with me when your legs are tied the fuck together by your WAISTBAND?

And if one out of every ten of those big ol’ cross bling-bling whatevers around your necks are even sterling silver (forget platinum), I’ll eat my boots with no ketchup.

11

Wow, great OP, but I wasn’t going to post until ‘hoodlumettes.’ Brilliant.

12

I certainly don’t understand it myself. I can only be glad my younger brother has the good sense not to emulate this ‘style’ though he does deck out his car and plays Eminem at ultimate levels (fun on the highway, not so much in the city)

My question is about the guys who walk around with a comb stuck in there hair. Seriously what is that? You were trying to comb your fro and noticed you were late for school so just forgot to take it out of your hair??

What also drives me nuts is the guys who go to the school I used to, they had the whole ‘ghetto talk’ going on. This was inner city yeah but this school wasn’t a regular high school or anything. Unless these guys had just moved from some other place I’d hazard a guess they had never seen a ghetto though they tried to play up on it.

13

:stuck_out_tongue:

14

Re: the comb sticking out of the 'fro

I asked this of a black guy and he said that afros require a great deal of attention, constant combing etc. Having observed nice fluffy afros degrade into stringy greasy ones in no time, I am inclined to agree.

Without an afro, though, the comb looks pretty stupid. Like leaving the house with your toothbrush still in your mouth, or a washcloth draped on your shoulder. “I’m too cool to finish my morning ablutions.”

15

I got the projects on my street so at least I get to see the legit ones. I always have a good laugh when some suburbia kid tries to stare me down. Best thing you can do is make them break stare first.

16

You better be careful these days. That kid could have had a gun and shot you.

17

Happy Scrappy Hero Pup, was that you?

Please don’t tell mummy I drove her SUV to the mall and nicked her Slims, O.K.?

Peace out.

18

Sorry, Spiff, can’t act hard now.

You got DROPPED OFF.

You weren’t even driving.

19

I try not to let anyone know how much the pants-around-the-knees thing annoys me. If they know it bothers you, they’ll go on doing it forever!

Oh wait, they already have.

20

I’d say you met my brother… but he’s in jail.

I used to laugh at him and all his little friends… none of them had ever seen a freaking ghetto… they grew up in semi suburbia and wanted so badly to be tough. He’s a tough guy now all right…

:rolleyes: