3 Dumbasses Drive Into The Ghetto…
Sounds like the beginning of a joke, right?
But this is me, and we all know I never joke about anything (hey, Juice Boxes ARE for Pussies).
Bright and blurry Saturday morning, well before any civilized person should get up (8:30AM is, like juice boxes, for pussies), my friend Dawn showed up bearing coffee and donuts, looking as The Guy on my Couch and I both did – like we’d been run over several times by a gigantic truck. Or beaten with the ugly stick. [insert some other euphemism that hilariously explains why, in fact, we all looked like we needed a good scrub in the back yard with one of those steel brushes and some bleach]
It was unfortunate, really, the way we looked, since we were going to go get our pictures done. Unfortunate but unsurprising – everyone looks weird on Picture Day. My freshman year in high school, I got appendicitis on the day of picture retakes, and agonizingly, I sat through that photo shoot. In those photos, I look as though a gigantic rubber fist had been inserted into my rectum right before the guy said, “CHEESE.”
But this was for charity, so we tried not to complain too much. I thanked my lucky stars that we have a graphic designer who can (hopefully) make me not look like death in print.
Once happily ensconced in the car, directions in hand, bag full of ridiculous clothes and some (jazz hands) mysterious Christmas lights at my feet, coffee in my gut, I began to relax.
Until, that is, we got off the highway. At that point, I locked the doors and tried desperately not to make eye contact with anyone. It’s better that way.
I *knew* we were going into a rough neighborhood, but it was daytime on a Saturday morning, so I didn’t bother packing my semi-automatic or a shiv. I figured we’d fit right in – three white kids in a nice suburban-looking SUV. Just your average day in the ghetto, right? We could’ve had legitimate bizness there. LIKE GETTING OUR PICTURES DID.
Oh, wait. We DID have legitimate bizness there.
We parked next to an abortion clinic, flanked on both sides by buildings that had clearly been burned out. Windows missing, char-patterns making neat patterns on the brick outside, the occasional boarded up door. Everywhere we turned, there was broken glass. Dawn, who has apparently never been anywhere but the Loop and the suburbs, bothered to ask what was up with all the glass.
“DRINKIN’ 40’S” I hollered, in my obnoxious, ‘I’m-a-drunk-frat-boy’ voice, hoping the people who lived there found it to be as hilarious as I did.
On our way to the studio, we passed by BUT DID NOT PICK UP a random (EMPTY, DAMMIT!) box of burn cream. I’m not sure the two are related…but I’m not sure they aren’t.
We got to the studio, where my friend Josh Hawkins, who happens to be an awesome photographer AND my friend, greeted us. Immediately we realized our mistake: we’d forgotten to bring anything to drink. I turned to Dawn and whispered, “I need a diet Coke.”
She replied, “I think there’s a guy on the corner selling shit inside his trench coat.”
Me: “Think I can get a faux-Lex*?”
Her: “I’m sure.”
I hadn’t actually seen the guy, so I’m pretty sure Dawn was full of the lies. The only place that looked like it might have, at one time, sold items other than crack was a boarded-up (we’re assuming) restaurant (although it could’ve been a massage parlor) with a handmade sign that read, “Munchers.” Had it looked any more inviting, I’d have risked it for a diet Coke. As it was, I wasn’t about to try it. Besides, I had a stylist I was waiting on to make me look, well, better than I had walking in.
Which was going to take some work.
To. Be. Continued.
*Fake Rolex. Get it? FAUXLex?
Dear god. I shudder to think what will e in the next installment!
Ha! That’s like where I work. It ain’t fun..
o dear!! haha!
I don’t even have an excuse for why I looked redic. And my guy was free, so hoping that he can make me look like a star.
Sounds alot like every trip I’ve ever taken to Detroit. SCAREY!
You have reeled me in. I can’t wait to see where this is going.
OMG, that sounds exactly like a trip I once took to Chicago, but it was 4 white Canadians in a 6 month old car getting lost in the ghetto and too shit scared to ask for directions. We were visiting another office at the company we worked for and the Chicago employees thought it would be funny to send the defenseless canadians into the ghetto)
We saw a sign for a firehouse and had hope (cuz y’know firemen everywhere are supposed to be friendly) only to find it Burned-out…..I shit you not, it was.
We then decided that the best plan was just to keep driving straight, cuz the ghetto has to end somewhere. We ended up at a gas station where the lady was behind bullet proof glass (she had this little slidey tray where you put your money and slid it in, and she put the item you wanted in and slid it back out to you).
Anywho, she couldn’t give us directions, but this guy (who informed us immediatly that he just “got out”, though why you would lead with that to strangers beats me) offered us directions for 5$ or a lift. We paid the 5$.
I can’t wait to hear the rest of this story! And to see the accompanying photos once they’re did!
Nice… uh… Shiny things…
What the hell you got under your eyes?
Next time… bring the chain saw. It’ll confuse em.
I think you’d retract your “Juice boxes are for pussies” statement if you knew that they made juice boxes OF WINE!!!!! No joke…someone brought me some back from France. They are arguably the best invention in the woooorrrllllld!
Ummm.. Is it weird that I had to re-read “burn cream” three times before I realized it indeed did NOT say “Butt cream”?
And I’m sorry, I know your photos will turn out FAN-TAB-ULOUS, but what the fuck is under your eyes?!? They look like bunion pads…
It should be illegal for people to have to be anywhere that early in the morning. I can’t wait to see how you looked all prettied up for pictures – that is, if you survived pictures without being shanked by some creepy guy selling Faux-Lexes from his trench coat.
And siestas. Our country seriously needs mandatory siestas. I need a legitimate excuse to take a nap every day.
FYI they also sell the wine juiceboxes at Target! But maybe not the ghetto Target…I too am intrigued by whatever the hell is on your face. Can only assume they are magic miracle cure for baggage and must know if a. They worked and b.where I can get me some of them!
Dude, you are so not aloud to tell a story and drop it in the middle like that. MORE NOW!
Girl that is my morning commute every day, yo! LOL! I do kinda work in the ghetto, not a great part of town and we’ve had our share of cars being broken into, and even had a guy running from the police run into our building to hide! I’m getting laid off in September, so maybe I can move on up….to a deee-lux apartment, in the sky….
I’m on the edge of my seat! Bring it bitches!
Can’t go anywhere without your shiv. Have you learned nothing???
I’m just waiting for them to make a coach accessory to store my shiv.
When I was stationed in Korea we called them LoRex (you know cause they mix up their R and L sounds, and cause its fake).
I too thought it said butt creme, but I have a baby in diapers – a poor excuse – but an excuse none the less. Oh and I am on hour 8 of a night shift so Im freaking tired.
Cant wait to see the after pic AB! Devan
[…] Go Ask Aunt Becky « Glamor Shots Three Dumbasses Drive OUT Of The Ghetto Part I. […]
Sadly, this reminds me of home: Baltimore. Home of “The Wire” and “The Corner” and the recent Mega Millions winner who possibly stiffed her coworkers at McDonalds with the lottery pool. Excellent description of place. I was right there with you, wondering about the burn cream. :>)
[…] Blogroll? Huh? « Every Day I’m Shufflin’ The Continuing Saga Of Dumbasses In The Ghetto Part I […]