Last night, for her belated birthday, my bff and I went to see ‘Straight outta Compton’ at the movies after a lovely (gluten free) Thai meal at our local place in Pt Chev. I did not grow up listening to NWA or similar – I was far more bogan than that – I was in to G’N’R and the long-haired men of metal (do you remember Axl Roses’ white bicycle shorts? what was I thinking?).
No, I have come to appreciate Dr Dre and his cronies as an older, more mature woman. It’s way more appropriate now that I’m old and responsible and have small children that I drive around listening to ‘Fuck the Police’ and other such classics. ‘Hey Miss – guess what my Mummy’s favourite song is?’ I can just picture my boy’s teachers face on Monday.
Because I am late to the scene I didn’t really know who I was looking at (Of course I knew who Dre and Ice Cube were duh) but I was a bit hazy on the rest tbh. FYI the young man who plays MC Ren in the movie is a gorgeous actor called Aldis Hodge – I think I have a new celebrity crush. Luckily my friend grew up a really big fan of NWA and she helped me out throughout the movie when I got confused. I am sure the rest of the folks in the cinema didn’t mind at all…
I know the story is flawed; That it doesn’t include the bits where Dre beat the crap out of a couple of women and a few things have been written criticising it for this. It’s no surprise that it was left out though is it? After all, it was just about the women. Excuse me – I think my cynicism is showing. Also I wasn’t surprised, but was saddened and revolted by the awful racist violence from the american police towards black men and women – highlighted by the Rodney King killing in the movie – but echoed again and again by events in our news in 2015. Shit hasn’t changed man. This blog post isn’t about that but it’s worth mentioning every time.
I woke up this morning after a later night than usual, having had one long rap music video dream (in it I could dance to hip hop and did not stand out AT ALL as a white girl from NZ – I was as hard core as) and rolled over to my three Dutchman all crammed in to the bed. Happy Fathers day to the grumpy Dutchman.
Somehow I managed to convince him to get up and make me coffee. Let’s just say I used all my feminine wiles. We had gotten confused and thought Fathers day was last Sunday so the friday before that the GD had ordered his present online – it’s a record of course – and it hadn’t arrived yet. Not great – but the lads and I went out yesterday and got thoughtful cards and chocolate shaped like a record. Win!
Can you tell which one is from me? We had lovely visits with the grandies – the Dutch elders and my Dad and Dianne, and all of the Dads were appreciated. Yay for Dads.
The GD is a great dad (of course – if he was a loser he wouldn’t be allowed to live in my house) he is affectionate with the lads, he teaches them about music and encourages critical thought. He reads to them and takes them for bike rides and when I’m not at home he makes them dinners with noooooo greens in them whatsoever (a small childs dream dinner). He even learned their birthdays and now doesn’t have to check his phone when he takes them to the doctor.
We are lucky to have him and we appreciate him every day – we don’t need an official day to tell us to. But it does help his record collection!