Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Hip Hop Post Coital: Queen Latifah
Queen Latifah - "Wrath of My Madness"
Not being a free agent any more is just fucking strange man. Gone are the days of not having anyone to answer to, coming and going as I damn well please - some weeks revelling in playing the "Ted Kazinsky" recluse role(minus the penchant for bomb making), growing a wildly unmanageable beard and not having any contact with the outside world to the point that my family and friend's have to break into my house and hope that they don't discover any rotting corpse smells. No longer can I feel proud about my universal stance of never calling anyone back, I've learned that throat-punching every asshole just because he says something sideways to me only impresses classless broads - and by the way, dalliances that don't consist of "how much for a half hour" inquiries and receipt-less sex is quite nice. Speaking of sex, for a guy who's post coital conversations usually range from "What in the fuck are you still doing here?" to "Stop acting disgusted, its only protein for Christs sake!" - talking about something substantive after sex is such a new endeavor to me that I constantly get the feeling that her utterly interesting chatter is a way of segueing into a break up. Here's the kicker, after the both of us complete a steady diet of some rather dirty fucking, her wondering why I openly weep when I climax and me thanking god that I no longer have to wear 4 condoms and riot gear during sexual encounters - most our conversations are Hip Hop related. I recently called my mother and said, "Well mom, you were right, you always said that I'd end up fucking someone just like myself" in which she quickly replied - "No, I simply told you to go fuck yourself!" Oh.
(The "girlfriend" rolls off of your favorite blogger, grabs a cigarette off the nightstand and smokes it while staring at the ceiling)
HumanityCritic:(looking over) Smoking a cigarette after sex is so fucking cliche.
The Girlfriend:(Reaching over checking my pulse) ..so are fat guys who have heart attacks! You don't worry about my after-sex routines, and I won't remind you that you haven't seen your dick since the third season of "A Different World" - Ok buddy?
HumanityCritic: Fuck you, I work out!
The Girlfriend: Masturbation doesn't count, but seriously, you have to cut down on the late-night snacking and go on a occasional walk now and then - you dying on top of me would severely affect my future social calender.
HumanityCritic: In a "I'm not coming within a square mile of that broad's vagina" sort of way?
The Girlfriend: No, in a "I can't believe she was actually fucking that crazy, chubby reclusive writer" sort of way.
HumanityCritic: You act as if I'm bed-bound or some shit, needing a construction crew to knock-down entire walls in order to get my gelatinous ass out - besides, we just started dating so something drew you to my stocky physique.
The Girlfriend: Yeah, the first night we met you paid for all the drinks - so view letting you clumsily thrust inside of me as "working off a bar tab".
HumanityCritic: You should really consider penning a Lifetime movie.
The Girlfriend: Oh, and we have the same tastes in Hip Hop - speaking of Hip Hop, what do you think is the greatest female album of all time is?
HumanityCritic:(Thinking) That's a good question, ummm...
The Girlfriend:(Rapping) "Can't you see the music pumping hard like I wish you would - so push it!"
HumanityCritic: You aren't going to tell me that Salt & Pepa's "Hot, Cool & Vicious" is the best female Hip Hop album ever?
The Girlfriend: No, just commenting on your hamfisted love-making style - but really, what is your pick?
HumanityCritic: I'd have to go with Queen Latifah's "All Hail the Queen" - as strongly as I feel that she should never recite poetry over beats again, I'm pretty confident that her debut album is the best female Hip Hop album of all time.
The Girlfriend: Damn, good choice - "Wrath of my Madness", "Mama Gave Birth to the Soul Children", "Dance For Me" - you don't get much of an argument here.
HumanityCritic: I knew there was a reason I liked you.
The Girlfriend: If you liked me so much, you'd stop reciting Kool G Rap lyrics in my ear while we're fucking.
HumanityCritic: I don't like you that much.