Kitchen Closed

So the other day my brother and I were driving along in our automobile when his phone went off with some song I had not heard of because I am not hip – meanwhile I knew the New Edition ringtone right away. Heh. So I’m like, “what is that?” And I hear, “Purple Kmumuble…” And I’m like, “whaaaa?!” And he says, “it’s by the Dream.” Is it the Dream? Or just Dream? Anyway. So now I’m sounding like somebody’s grandmomma talkin’ bout, “What you say bay-bay? Purple Kitchen?” And he’s like, “NO! You old ass lady! Purple Kisses. Purple Kitchen makes no sense.” And I’m all, “Don’t act like R. Kelly wouldn’t make a song called Purple Kitchen.”

Him right on cue: “Gonna beat it up, in your purple kitchen.”
Me: Throw some eggs and sugar in there, we gon’ make a cake in your purple kitchen.
Him: We gon’ cook all night…
In unison, to a typical R. Kelly beat: In your purple kitchen, purple kitchen.
Laughter. And then we decided to stop before R. Kelly’s ‘Negroes are engaging in some iganance that I must be a part of’ antennas went up and he got to “crafting” lyrics and making a beat. So then five minutes later.
Me: But for real though, why did this [new] guy who I haven’t heard from in forever call me up and invite himself over to my house talking bout I should cook something?
Him: Awww shucks. He tryna see your purple kitchen.

So yeah I haven’t lived alone in foreva. So I had totally forgotten the games these nigs play. I mean no one is inviting themselves over once you reveal that you live with yo’ momma, AND yo’ daddy (say what lil’ Black girl you got a daddy and you know him), AND yo’ 84 year old Big Momma. Yeah that ain’t happenin. Like at all.

But now that I’m on my own – all these people, i.e., men folk, think it’s cute to try to invite themselves over to my house. On some, Andre 3000, "We both goin' to where you livin..." No, you kiddin'. I’m sorry, did decorum just give up hope, get drunk, and jettison herself off a balcony in these last five years? As we get older, aren’t we supposed to start adhering to certain courtesy “rules,” like, ‘don’t call nobody after 10pm unless it’s a for real, serious emergency?’ And at the top of that list - don’t be inviting yourself ova to someone’s house all willy nilly. See I am getting older – I just said willy nilly. Especially if you don’t get down with that person like that! Pun intended.

And then to add insult to injury, you wanna invite yourself over to my house and then tell me to cook? Nygga please. I don’t even cook for myself. Right now. Tee hee. I’m definitely not cooking for some half stepping, make that quarter steppin’ man, who I only hear from every few weeks. But you’re more than welcome to take me on a proper date. Sigh. This type of behavior reminds me of that saying, “when I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it I’ll give it to you.” Remix - When I want you over to my house, I’ll invite you. Welllllll.

Cause you ain’t slick. Not so subtly hiding behind the wack ass line that is - we can get some Chinese and you can give me the tour, is - I’m really tryna see your bedroom. And then your purple kitchen. Nope. Nerp. Happen not gonna. I may not have lived alone in a long while. But I’m not 19 anymore. I was not born last night. Or at night. And you can’t come into my house or my purple kitchen tonight.

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Just cause this makes me laugh!