Happy Emm'effin' Friday, Folks!
Thank God we made it...especially since every Monday morning I'm not so sure I can complete those 40 hours SANS bodying a fool or scaling my desk, cardigan tied around my head like a soulja rag screaming: "YOU CAN TELL I'M A SOULJA! I THOUGHT I TOLDJA?!"
When the weekend rolls around and I've made it through without spraying muhfuckas by the copy machine: I KNOOWWZZZ der' iz a gawd.
Anywhoo...Today's musical memory is brought to you by the makers of fine kanekalon and daisy dukes housing denim camel toes.
Raise your dookie braids if you remember the Dancehall Queen of Kanekalon herself, Patra? The first time I laid eyes on the gyal, getting it in her "Queen of the Pack" video, I quickly wrote her off as a reggae B. Angie B.
Then I beheld her impressive and superior "wine" skills and I was captivated.
I EVEN hopped up off my cooouccchhhh and turned my wiiinnnee on! Took a look at myself, said "You SUCK!" Yeeeaaahhh, I looked foooooliiiisshhh! AAOOOHHHHH!!!
I was instantly a fan. My hands down favorite joint from the Jamaican jooker is most definitely "Romantic Call" featuring the OG West Coast rapstress, Yo-Yo.
When the video first comes on and you see Patra sassily disrobe while menacingly mean-mugging the camera with a threatening: "My Propuhtee Iz My PROPUHTEE!" you knew you were in for some hellafied SUMTHIN'. And that "SUMTHIN':"
"Hello, Mommy. Can I speak to Bobby?/I'm across the ocean and I'm feeling very lonely..."
Uhhm, Patch: Were you just telling Bobby's mama that you were in desperate need of a phone bone session?
Wow! This video brings back SO many memories. The part where me and my jr. high school friend, Angela and a whole cast and crew of Southeast ruffians hanging in Creekwood Apartments would REALLY get our teenage Soul Train line going was Yo-Yo's, "Take yo hands and wrap 'em 'round my waist/I know you cain't wait/UHH!/To love me like you wanna/I can't staaannnnd a man who's not a man/Too proud around his fraaannnnddsss/So Here We Go Again!"
Yo! You couldn't STOP my striped Guess? shorts from shaking it like dice at that moment. Shout out to parents leaving their homes open to fast azz teens and the neighborhood kids who knew it!
Up until that point I'd never drank so much soda and ate so many chips and processed foods in my LIFE. And, surprisingly, save for the occasional freak-off to Hammer's hip shaker, "Pumps In A Bump", we were respectful and trustworthy kids.
Shouts to Patra, y'all. I wonder where she's hanging her denim daisies these days...and if her braids have been deservingly and ceremoniously displayed in the Jamaican equivalent of the Smithsonian for forthcoming generations of Caribbean coochie cutters to enjoy.
And...while we're on the topic of the decadent dancery that is Dancehall music, shouts to whoever made THIS video. I'm over here pissing my Caciques at the misheard lyrics of Sean Paul's "Temperature." Watch this shit and pay attention to the lyrics and images flashing across the screen. I suggest you keep your toilet and its paper handy. (You're welcome.)