Always Funky Fresh – The Blog v2.0

Back in the day, Easter weekend was one of those dreaded weekends.

Ma dukes would come home one day a month, sometimes weeks before Easter Sunday with some suit she copped from A&S or Alexanders.  Some navy blue joint with a stuffy shirt choking me all so I could put on this damn clip on tie. Top it off with some B.uster B.rown shoes and your boy was…well….Fresh.

We weren’t frequent church goers but we went more than enough so that people recognized us when we did attend. Even if my mom didn’t go (because she was out partying with the night before), my grandmother had me on LOCK DOWN that day. There was no way in hell any of her grandkids were going to miss church service. And I didn’t mind, because other people’s grandkids – namely granddaughters – were showing up that day and well, even though I was young, the mack game had to begin somewhere right?

But what I did mind was the actual church. Those people scared the holy spirit out of me when they caught the holy ghost. And the older I got (I’m talking 10 years old and beyond), I began to question grandma dukes about the church but her reply was always “Because God said so”.

So I started to rebel against going to church on Easter Sunday (don’t call me a heathen y’all) and this is where it gets funny. There’s the year I played sick. There was the year I was in cohoots with my cousin about studying for some big exam. There was the year I convinced my entire little league team to play a makeup game on Sunday. There was the year my next door neighbor somehow convinced my mother to let me babysit her youngest son, even though the daughter was the same age as me. That was a  fast ass girl!!! And of course, the year of the tight suit. So one year, moms didn’t buy me a suit because I was supposed to “grow in” to the one from a year before. Well, when she went out the night before, I went to the building’s laundromat and washed and dried (ON HIGH) my suit. Ironed it. Next morning I get up and get dressed looking like Erke.l. I had to hold in my laughter. Luckily I have the type of mother who would not send me to church in jeans so I got to stay home. Tight suit and all.

Eventually after a string of 6 consecutively missed Easter Sunday’s, my mom caught on. Actually she caught on earlier. She just wanted to see how innovative I could get.

I’ve given up the excuses now but I’m waiting for the day my own child starts doing the same……