Personal Statement

Personal Statement

Monday, April 15, 2013

PJ McSwagger

I have certain distinct - um - urban contemporary - tendencies.  R&B and old school funk:  pretty much the soundtrack of my life, for as long as I can remember, since I was old enough to express my own musical preferences.  Rap got added into the mix early on - like, The Sugarhill Gang early.  Senior year, my parents had to essentially ground me to keep me from going to a Public Enemy concert - which was kind of hypocritical, given that I get my hood-rat-adjacent tendencies (including my mad booty-shaking skills) from my mother.

PJ also inherited the gene.  For lack of a better description, he is my little funk-soul brother, trapped in a freckle-faced body.

On Saturday, I thanked him for bringing me my phone when it was ringing in another room, and he responded, "No probs, Moms.  That's just how I roll."

On Sunday, I caught him singing Jaheim.   Specifically, Jaheim's "Ain't Leaving Without You":

You're moving them hips
Killing me with every dip, girl
You about to get a tip
Do it girl
Worst that goes down is you turn me down
But, this time around, I got it, shorty
Hey, how you doin'?
Baby, what you getting into?
I don't know what your name is
Or who you came with
But, I ain't leaving without you

Because eight year-olds know the lyrics to obscure (but musically awesome) neo-soul songs.  (At least, eight year-olds in my house do.)

The Sunday before, during the children's service at our church (thankfully, because the children's service is kinda loud and chaotic), the children's minister announced that little pint-sized ushers would be coming 'round to take up the collection.  Prompting my child to blurt out;


in his best Ludacris voice.

There was a little dance step involved.

And, earlier this evening, I was handed (by his somewhat amused father) what appears to be the first draft of a rap:

I said you were cool
I was kidding - 'cause you pee in pools
Hey, ace
Guess what?
Yo face
By the way
You don't have a base
Just a place
I'm on your case 
By the way, Mom's pretty
You don't have a job in the city
You work on a farm
Bet chickens are your alarm

Okay, so it's a work in progress.  But it amused me.

I love my little funk soul brother.

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