I don't recall what this 30 second ad was promoting. I know it had something to do with the NBA. I sat in stunned silence the first time I saw it. Then I threw my head back and cackled like a lunatic. I TiVo'd it, and taped it to play for friends.
What? What was so funny? (And why was I watching NBA advertising?)
I can't find the tape to make an exact transcript. But it featured a very tame looking, administrative assistant-type woman at a photocopier. She lifted a stack of paper onto the autofeed, and wheeled around on a nearby co-worker. I've got to find that tape, because the ensuing monologue was priceless.
It included broad, chest slapping gestures and aggressive posturing, with phrases like "Why you frontin'? You best step off, dawg. I gots mad co-LATE-in' skilz." Also, something about "kick that chizz-net to the curb" and "this is my house."
I love me some trash-talking. I'm pretty mellow by nature, and rarely confrontational. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know that I wear the IMPERFECT mother badge with pride. I've had the luxury of limiting social engagements to mothers and children that I want to hang out with. (I know this will come to an end now that my oldest is in school. Spare me the just you wait comments, because I KNOW and also, the parenting gods read my blog and are rubbing their hands together and dancing giddily, planning horrible playdates with judgemental people.)
Knowing this, I'm thinking it's time to craft a NBA "mad co-LATE-in skilz" type smackdown to trot out when the cold winds of disapproval and superior parenting styles cast a chill on a playdate.
"Yo! You disrespecting me? Why you frontin'? You best step off, jack, 'cause I gots mad par-ENT-al skilz, dawg. This is my house. MY HOUSE."
I still have to work in the chizz net part. Help me out, here. Feel free to riff away.