I’m A Little Bit Country…

There's a reason why I always loved this story... (Little Golden Books FTW!!)

… and I happen to be a little bit rock-and-roll, too. *whips stiff curly hair back and forth*

Being a product of Chicago is quite interesting. We kinda have that “best of both worlds” thing going for us where we have the Midwest hospitality as well as the metro flair. If you go a little Northeast of our fine country, they’ll probably tell ya’ll that we’re kinda country in the Chi.

…

And they’re right. Ya see, way back into time, there was a Great Migration of my peoples from the Southern states to Chicago (interestingly enough, there seems to be a trend in the reverse order nowadays), and a lot of that “southern mentality” remained steadfast through several generations.

Add the fact that many of my melanin brethren/sistren were raised by their grandmothers (who had a very good chance of actually being born/raised in a Southern state), and you have some solid Southern roots.

So, yeah, I may be a tad bit country. And I’mma show ya how…

– The Universal Coffee Can. If there is one thing I’ve learned from Grandma Cheeks, it’s that the coffee can is NOT just for coffee. In my crib growing up, it was re-used for two main things: leftover grease (of which BETTER be separated from the other grease if it involved fish) and a bank. To this very day, I still do both in my adult life. In fact, I JUST took a coffee can of coins to the bank the other day and ended up with 65 bucks. And the joint wasn’t even half full. Winning like a mug.

– The Refrigerated Baking Soda. I know what ya’ll think baking soda is used for. I mean, it says it right there… baking. But, um, in my crib, the most important role that baking soda plays is sitting in my fridge. Yup, just sitting there. Why? Because my grandma/mama always told me it keeps odors out. I always respect someone a little bit more when I see a box of baking soda in their fridge because they know what’s up. In fact, the chick who lived here before me? She left a baking soda box in the fridge and THAT is when I knew this place was for me. Yes, that makes plenty of sense. Honorable Mention: Baking Soda can also be used in lieu of toothpaste, which I always thought was effing gross, but even big brands incorporate it in their toothpastes so…

– The All-White. While the “all-white-airthang” party has become more mainstream thanks to folks like R. Kelly (who, funny enough… is so Chi and so country) and Diddy, when I go alla’way back to its origins, the FIRST thing I think of is a middle-aged man dressed in head-to-toe white. White linen suit. White Stacy Adams-esque shoes. Lookin’ “shahhhhhp” (or “sharp”, in English) and ready to go to a “Steppin’ Club.*” And yes, this still happens today. And yes, sometimes these same guys end up at clubs/parties geared toward the younger generation, but that’s a blog post for another day…

– The Artwork. Basically, something like this right here. <– for real, click that. For those that can’t see, it’s a picture of a lady making hot water cornbread. Hot water cornbread in and of itself is country, btw. But, it is HEAVEN. Don’t hate. Anyway, it’s probably one of my favorite pictures evah and I was quite touched when Mama Cheeks gave it to me when I moved out into my own place. It’s pretty close to my heart. *pops gum*

Pinchers, that is just the tip of the country iceberg. There are so many other qualities us country folk possess, but I’mma make this interactive. What are other “signs you may be country?” And yeah, please confess if you can personally relate to any of the said qualities. ‘Preciate it.

Love ya like Maury would (probably) love to have Justin Bieber as a guest,

Cheekie

Bozo Business

#swag

You know how kids are better than you? They dream big. You cannot tell this kid that he won’t be a firetruck when he grows up, or that kid she can’t marry Simba from The Lion King.

I had a lot of seemingly impossible goals as a mini Cheekster, but one major thing that sticks out to me was…

ONE DAY APPEARING ON THE BOZO SHOW.

How’d that turn out, you ask? Or even if you don’t ask?

One word: FAIL.

I never got to be on the show. Talk about a dream deferred… or um, deadened (seeing as how the show was canceled).

Ok, backupbackupbackup. For those who don’t know that young Bozo Show (look at me rhyming!), it was children’s programming featuring comedy sketches, games, and other miscellaneous fun times. And it was taped in the Chi! If ya don’t know, now ya know.

Man, I can’t even explain how much glee and anticipation I had when I turned on WGN to see this show. I wanted to sit in the audience* and be near Bozo’s affable essence. I wanted to taste the pies that constantly got slapped in someone’s face (even though I’m pretty sure these joints were made of shaving cream). I wanted to be in the Grand March at the end of show while Bozo twirled his fabulous baton.

But, what I wanted more than anything? More than life itself?**

To be on the “Grand Prize Game.” Woooo, chile. I just knew this was my destiny. So, basically, the whole premise is that a random number generator picks a kid from the audience and they get onstage to play the best game in the history of Old Maid. The aim of the game is to toss a ping-pong ball into 10 buckets, each bucket in a line with the next bucket being a little further from the previous one. Or this for you visual learners. Yes, I dropped two different types of education. #NoPincherLeftBehind

Other than possibly having the best “Show and Tell” presentation in my entire school for being on TV, I had my eyes on the grand prize (the name was apt, eh?): a crisp 100 dollar bill.

Yes, the inclusion of “crisp” is important. Because that’s how they sold it. Like that joint came straight from the U.S. Department of Treasury. And, of course, that aspect made it all the more appealing to me. But, aside from that… 100 bucks, yo! Any kid would think they’d be ballin‘ on Jim Jones levels with a Benjamin. I swore I was gonna use my winnings on a trip to Disney World, a super computer, those really expensive Barbies in the glass case I could never get, and buy Grandma and Mama Cheeks a little something with whatever was left over.

But, nooooooo, I didn’t even get to sit in the audience, let alone become lucky enough to have my number called to play the game. Thinking about it, though, it’s probably good I never saw the show live. Because if my number hadn’t gotten picked? I probably woulda been heckling the kid that did get picked by coughing loudly when they threw the ball and/or laughing when they missed the first bucket (even at the really young toddler-sized kids that got a pity second-chance when they missed the first bucket. yup, I was an asshole even as a kid. *sweet smile*).

*sniff* I’m still hurt about this, as you can tell. In fact, I’m ten trillion percent positive that this one thing not happening is the reason why I’m not married right nah.

Hmph.

Pinchers, do you remember The Bozo Show? If so, did you also long to play the Grand Prize Game on TV? Did you get that chance? If so, get off my blog because I will hate on you so fiercely can I rub you for good luck?

Love ya like Hugh Jackman loves showtunes,

Cheekie

*I swear, that audience probably sat like 15 people. It was (or seemed) SO small. Wikipedia alleges that it was a 200+ audience. Please. They need more people! I’m sure you sawed what I did there.
**No idea why people say this because if you had to choose between the thing you supposedly want more than life and “life itself” and you chose the former, well, you wouldn’t be alive to enjoy it. I don’t understand that phrase. But as you see, I used it anyway. I do things like that.

I Pinch On For My City: The Slang

 

Yeezy taught me, but Chi taught him.

Chicago. The Chi. Chi-town. Chi City. The ‘Go. My city answers to many names, but to me it’s simply home. Corny! Anyway. I was born and raised here so like any other “townie”, I have a love/hate relationship with it. Positive or negative, one thing for certain is that I have a lot to say about it. And I decided to share some of it with you. Let’s call it an indefinite, ongoing series. And how ’bout we start with slang…

Last week, I was having one of my epic GChatting sessions while at the plantation* and happened to use the word, “tall” in a slangified** manner. My girl, L Boogie, gave me a huge side-eye (this is, of course, in my mind as I couldn’t see her) and was all, “Um, ‘tall’ means ‘a lot’, right?”

Yes. “Tall” means “a lot.” *as an overly pressured National Spelling Bee contestant requests that I use it in a sentence.* “Tall” as in “They had tall books at that li-berry, yo!” -_-

That chat reminded me of the fascinating aspects of how we use language across the country, and even more so across the world. Specifically, how we use slang. For instance, “bad” can mean “good” in one culture, while “bad” just means “bad” in another.

So, since I love to share and provide knowledge (thus, I love sharing knowledge! O_O) I’m going to list a few terms that us Chicagoans (as well as other towns surrounding us) tend to use:

– Damn, you got treated! Treated. adj. Being verbally insulted in a highly embarrassing fashion. This reminds me of elementary school days. As everyone knows, kids are cruel — not “can be”, ARE — and a bulk of their pastimes consist of roasting their peers. At school, we’d have epic roast-fests. Just bust out and start talmbout folks. And it was all in a good fun. It never got malicious until someone talked about someone’s mama. Which, you just DON’T do. One kid would clown another and everyone else would be like, “TREATED!” Those were the days, Archie and Edith. I still use “treated” after an epic roasting to this day. It’s especially effective when you say it in a calm voice. Just… “treated.” But, speaking of school…

– I Went To Grammar School. Grammar School. n. The Hood equivalent to elementary school. I know I just called it “elementary school” up there, but that was so I wouldn’t have to explain myself then. Now’s the time. I usually say “elementary school” when talking to folks that aren’t from here, but in reglah life? I say “grammar school.” I have no idea what the origin is (any other Chi folks? if you do… help a nicca out) or even why we say it, we just do. All I remember is hearing someone else refer to it that way and accepting it. That’s how we learn thangs in the Chicago Public Schools system. #selfshotsfired

– Man, she bogus! Bogus. adj. When something/someone “ain’t right”, as in “that ain’t right.” The Plantation won’t let their employees out early on the day before the day before Christmas?*** Your teacher gives out homework on the first damn day of school? Some dude bumps into an old lady without saying “Excuse me” on a Sunday? All of that. Bogus as hell. “Bogus” is such a perfect term to describe something “wrong” when the word “wrong” just doesn’t cut it. “Bogus” adds a little kick to it. Know what’s also bogus? The fact that the Tea Party still exists.

– Pepsi/Coca-Cola/Bootleg Dollar Store Brand Carbonated Drink = Pop. Pop. n. A carbonated drink that has NO OTHER NAME TO DESCRIBE IT. So, I’ve saved the best for last. I cannot even count the number of times that I have gotten in the “pop vs soda vs cola” drank war on the internets, real life, and beyond. I find it hilarious because everyone is so loyal to their way of describing the bubbled drank. And anyone else’s way is wrong. Except those who are right, of course. And those rightful folks are the ones using “pop.” Know why? Because soda/cola is too proper. There’s nothing proper about a sugary drink that makes you belch (yeah, belch. babies burp.) on contact. Baddabing.

Pinchers, tis yo turn. What are some regional sayings ya’ll use that leave outsiders scratching their figurative heads?**** Do any of the above phrases/terms mirror ones you use outside of Chicagoland? As for my Chi Pinchers, please share some that I’ve (obviously) left out. Let’s all put on for our respective cities.

 

Love ya like Teena Marie (R.I.P.) loves to turn on our fire and desire,

Cheekie

P.S. It’s “pop.”

P.P.S. Nope, you’re wrong. Pop.

 

 

 

*If bossman finds out about this, I know where to find the snitch. *looks at you readers with a suspicious snarl*
**If I’m talmbout slang, of COURSE I can make up words. Hell, you should halfway expect it.
***This confusing sentence does NOT include an accidental repeat-phrase. Totally intentional.
****If it ain’t figurative then they either have dry scalp or lice. Hopefully, it is the former. I mean, neither are great, but ya know… lesser of two evils.