No-No-Notorious!

So, last night, my husband and I watched the much overlooked and underhyped movie, Notorious. It's the story of the rise (and fall) of Christopher Wallace, aka Biggie Smalls, aka The Notorious B.I.G., aka the guy who became famous just for rapping to other people's already made up songs.

I'm not saying I don't like his music. Much of my college career was spent dancing and singing along to him and 2Pac, LL Cool J and Ice Cube, and many others. Can you just picture 4-5 white girls rollin' in a 1989 Mercury Topaz, rapping with the best of them? To this day, I can't help myself. When a song comes on, I have to sing. Just ask my co-worker. He was highly amused to watch a 30-something-year-old (sidenote: I bet if I watched thirtysomething nowadays, it would make sense) mother rapping in her minivan.

My roommate in college was as big a fan of hip hop and R&B as I was. We used to joke she was from the ghetto (P-Ville, holla!), whenever she'd get her ghetto fabulous self in a tizzy. Not to mention she had no money and used to live on a small barrel of pickles she'd get from her dad when she went home to visit. We went dancing every Thursday, Friday and Saturday in our tank tops, baggie jeans and kicks. It was a good great time.

So, anyway, here I was with my husband, watching this movie, and, of course, singing along. I felt like I was in my 20s again. Too bad my girls weren't here to sing along with me. I learned a lot about Biggie, too. That he had an affair with Lil' Kim? That he only knew his wife a week before they got married? This was all interesting stuff.

Or not. Really, I just wanted the music.

And then, I had a dream last night that I was part of the East Coast-West Coast feud. Although, I can't remember which side I was on. And honestly, thinking about it, I still can't decide. 2Pac had the better lyrics, but I danced more to Biggie.

Oh, if only they would've listened to Rodney King and just gotten along. That would've made for one great album.