That’s right, laugh. Laugh it up, all of you. Because things are gonna change, homeslices! And when New Jack Swing comes back around, you’ll all be sorry you made fun of my mad-fly, multi-colored overalls!
You know, it wasn’t always like this. There was a time when me and all my muscular, shirtless boys in overalls were riding high. We were kings. The sweet melodies and big beats of Teddy Riley carried us up to Heaven. The raw sensuality of Keith Sweat brought us back to Earth, and there we were, clad in bitchin’ overalls, often with matching denim baseball caps that appeared to have been splattered with paint, Jackson Pollock-style. That was our prerogative.
Now, people mock me for keeping the faith, continuing to wear my overalls everywhere. They’re buggin’ out when I wear them to work at my job as a CPA specializing in chill real estate. They say “as if” when I wear them to my godson’s first communion. Even the priest, that wack-ass Father Dominic, flipped his lid. And let me tell you, Diane really lit into me when I insisted on wearing them to see our marriage counselor.
You can say that helped contribute to my marriage ending, but these phat overalls don’t pay no alimony, check it.
Back in the day, sometimes I would mix it up with a giant neon double-breasted suit with a waist much lower than my actual waist. Sometimes it would be a buttoned-up dress shirt with a crazy, wild pattern of multi-colored geometric patterns. But the overalls were always home. They make me whole. They give me hope.
They’re all that, and a bag of chips.
And now you, you mock me. You’ve said I was stuck in the past, but history is cyclical and all things come back around. New Jack Swing will dominate the airwaves once more, and you’ll all look like idiots in your clothes without front pouches and in regular, non-blinding colors. You’ll see. You’ll all see. And you’ll be sorry that you can’t hang with my dope posse that always believed!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several surfaces I need to sensually grind against.