California readers, why do you hate me? Is it because I’ve said nightlife in LA ends at 12:15 MT? Have I offended my LA brethren by saying Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles is the “We Are The World” remake equivalent of soul food? Or does it have something to do with that tangent I unleashed on Twitter after [the man] gave me a ticket knowing damn well the meter was broken?
In my defense, I’m not lying about the clubs but I’ll push it back to 12:22 MT as a compromise. Uh, I’ll eat at Roscoe’s if someone else pays. And well, as for that Twitter tantrum, I fought that ticket and it was dismissed so as soon as the state finds another way to come up with the money to fix these raggedy roads we’re all good.
And I like the weather, you know the sun is pretty. And there are pretty people, which really helps bring out the sweet superficial side out of me.
But whatever individual gripe you may have with my slick talk, please don’t let me out of your jigs. Especially if said jigs involve something Texas-based.
Thanks to the lovely, Stiletto Jill, I’m now aware of “Teach Me How To Dougie.”
There’s only one problem, though: This video was added August 8, 2009.
Is that how we’re doing it, Cali? Ya’ll leaving me out like that? I don’t appreciate it. I’m not even going to talk slick about the actual video and the fact that it’s rooted in another city’s sound. I’m actually happy Cali’s finally realizing the correct way to get cheeks moving in the club.
Now that said, I’m going to need all of my readers to quit holding out. If you are aware of new dances and/or songs that are riddled in fuckery then you need to email me.
And if you’re unsure of the sort of songs I’m looking for I have two helpful hints:
1. There needs to be a distinctive beat.
No beat, no chance. It doesn’t even have to be some fancy or overly complicated beef. I am from the south, need I say more?
I’m trying to jig, get it big and that’s it. Respond accordingly.
2. Disrespectful lyrics are probably a good sign.
Do you hear all of these niggas and bitches in the song? Yeah, it’s unfortunate, but chances are once I’m in the club or at the gym or just rolled out of bed I’m not going to be thinking about lyrical content. The best ign’t dance songs are ign’t as all hell.
So if you hear something like “bitch, fuck you, hoe” the song pass it on. I’ll reflect and then feel bad about myself the next day.
Also look for key words like “ratchet,” “crunk,” “aye,” “jig,” and “bounce.” Other words like “independent,” and anything related to money (that the rapper probably doesn’t even have, but I digress) should be looked for, too.
I’m getting older, which means I am unfortunately letting nonsense like knowledge, morals, and maturity thwart my endless search for a pointless club anthem.
But that’s why the internet is so helpful. I have you all to lean on. So Cali, forgive me for the shade I’ve been throwing. If it helps, the weather is still lovely and I plan on buying some bougie shades soon. I bet that’s probably more important to you all than voting in your local elections.
I hope this post has settled any confusion. Send me songs. Now.
And before anyone says it, don’t act like you have no means of contacting me.
Look at the “About Me” page to the right of your screen: My information is there so you have no excuse.