I was in one of those giant Targets this week, the kind that is so big, they actually get congressional representation just for the store.
I kept ending up in the same aisle with this man and his son, who was about 5 or 6 maybe, and they couldn't have been more different. The father was all stoic meets somber with an added look of foreboding (probably brought on by the thought of having to buy tampons for his Love).
His boy, however, was more likely a test subject for High Octane F'Extra Strength Red Bull, as he was doing this sort of babbling mambo around his father and the shopping cart shaped walker that was passively holding him up. The kid repeatedly asked his dad if he wanted to hear him "rap", to which silence was replied, unless you count the resounding "NO" that I was screaming in my head.
He then slid up next to me and belted out the chorus of Flo Rida's "Low", which is the part of the song where they DON'T rap, but it was hilarious. When he got to the bit where it goes "she turned around and gave that big booty a smack", I sensed he was going to swat at the region I refer to as my "ass", so I swiftly jumped away leaving him naively swiping at air (then he got "low, low, low, low, low").
Heh, I guess to a little kid my posterior may resemble a "booty", but to the average adult, I barely have the makings of a hatchback, and I assure you, there is no junk in it. It's an NDN thing, having no ass. I can't remember where I read that, I think it was in one of Sherman Alexie's books (I LOVE his stuff, but mainly "Ten Little Indians", hysterical). Some say it's because we danced or laughed our asses off, but others are convinced that white people pick-pocketed 'em in one treaty or another. I'm obviously white too, but I wouldn't put it past them!
I didn't get the wonderful dark skin that my sister and dad have. Instead, I got the cliff for a behind and all the inherent health issues that NDN's get, but luckily not diabetes, whew! I got the Russian pale faced scowl from my mom, but my sister got her bulbous, Russian butt*. So it all boils down to what mix of blood you have before quality of "booty" can be determined.
Regardless of my sad excuse for a rump, I still like to shake it to Flo Rida. Most music buffs wouldn't think I'd have "Low" on my IPOD, but its right there sandwiched in between The Duke Spirit's "The Step and the Walk" (the rest of their album sadly blows) and Radiohead's "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi" on my AAA playlist.
I'm nothing if not varied.
*Russia's main export is giant bubble-shaped asses. Each is measured on the basis of whether you can set a bottle of thrice distilled vodka on these protrusions or not. If not, they get sent to the Ivan Grozhny (terrible) Booty Camp in Siberia for further "enhancement".
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I'm not feeling very inspired lately, lots of family drama going on, but also my cousin is getting married in Santa Fe at the end of May, and I'm busy trying to make that trip happen.
Sooooo…I guess you could say I just pulled this out of my ass. =)
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