Tonight, I thought I would try something different. My wife loves dessert, so why not just go some place, any place, and just eat the sweets? It would be soo cool. We went to Outback Steakhouse. I had the Towering Chocolate Cake and she had the Chocolate Thunder Down Under.
We live in Memphis, the city of "It's Hard Out There For a Pimp" and The Firm fame. (I coupled in the last one to show some diversity.) My wife is from North Memphis, so I have an appreciation for ghetto tendencies. After all, it's within us all (white folks included).
To give further context, we just came from seeing the movie, Norbit, Eddie Murphy's 21st Century version of Coming to America. It was pure ignorance: funny, over the top, but endearing. Eddie Murphy, for better or worse. But I digress. The point is that the movie was stereotypically ghetto - pimps and a huffing, puffing, big, black sista character named Rasputia. My wife and I know several Rasputias.
In any event, we're in Outback. Across the aisle is a party of four, all friends, maybe even co-workers, but definitely loud. It's hard not to overhear their laughter and conversation. I wasn't really bothered by that - at first. I mean, I'm all for having a good time and enjoying the company of friends.
Then one of them, a sista (did I mention the table was full of my people? Yes, I claim them, even the ones who won't act right in public) said the word "nigga," not once, but twice over the course of one aspect of their conversation. I wasn't mad at the fact that she’d said "nigga" (correct spelling and usage, but that's another column), but I was mad at the fact that the whole section of the restaurant heard her say it. She was just that loud.
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