sugar boo
We’re frantically typing to finish our assignments
and end our Friday night homework confinement.
Chella wants to go to a frat-house soirée
I went to a few of those back in the day.
No more frat parties, I once emphatically said.
I make rules for myself, usually based on emotion
but once I calm down, rules are made to be broken,
and it’s good, I suppose, to stay in touch with the kids
Chella does this a lot, finds a trendy hot spot,
and drags me along, enthusiastically or not.
She’ll attempt, and fail, to do a Keg stand.
That’s ok, we’re not athletes, I understand.
We’re just having fun with it, hitting a beat good,
fugitives from the rough passage to adulthood
We feel like old ladies now - it's hilarious.
.
.
Mini playlist for this:
Pon de Replay by Rihanna
Little Things x Gypsy Woman (L BEATS MASHUP) by Jorja Smith
Can't Feel My Face by The Weeknd
Summertime by DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince
More Than A Woman (SG's Paradise Edit) by Bee Gees & SG Lewis
.
.
*I’ve got a Will Smith track here, I’m ashamed of how much I love his early
Fresh Prince rap years - but on the real - OJ was ‘the juice’ before he was OJ,
Michael wasn’t always hyperbaric and Will Smith pretended he wasn’t the
wifedup jesus pretenda he revealed himself to be.
.
slang..
wifedup = pu$$y-whipped
jesus = nice guy
pretenda = pretender
.
.
*We feel like old ladies because
(1) these frat boys are just lowly undergraduates and we’re master’s candidates which is vastly, vastly better. and
(2) we're Yale graduates, which is vastly, vastly better than being Harvard graduates (in our opinion).
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