Nothing like Harlem

The Shop

I am a Harlem girl...Living in Harlem World.

I swear, there is never a dull moment living in the hood....and I wouldn't trade it for the WORLD. 

People come to Harlem World, to suck up our flavor, but they can't do it like Harlem Girls can. LOL

Speaking of which...I have a funny Harlem World/Harlem Girl story from this past weekend.

I have always gone to the beauty shop in the hood and without fail there is always something that pops off that will keep you laughing for days.

Saturday was NO exception.

So...picture it....a shop full of black women, getting their hair did...the shop is jammed packed...folks either on their cells or listening to ipods...the Dominican beauticians are working their magic.  All of a sudden, one of the girls under the dryer starts talking REALLY loud on her phone.

(*side note* if you know anything about the black beauty shop, the one place you don't get loud on your cell phone is in there...especially when you live in the same neighborhood as your shop.)

Chicky's conversation was going like this...with her voice at a high and her words coming out at lightening speed...."Get out of my stuff! Why are you in my stuff?  That is the baby's birthday present.  You know you shouldn't be in my stuff."

Next thing we know she has slammed closed her cell phone.

Now...at this moment, the volume on the ipods have lowered, the music in the background has lowered and the murmuring of cell phone conversations...has dropped a decibel.

About 3 minutes later, Chicky's phone rings again and with the same tone and rapid speed we hear..."I keep telling you there is no need to be in my stuff.  Why are you in my shit?  OMG...get out of my stuff!"

She slams the phone down again and hops up from under the dryer and runs out of the shop.

(*side note 2* Okay....now if you know anything about black women, we all looked at each other with a typical side eye and started chuckling.  Now whomever was in her stuff, was stepping on some dangerous territory.  You could just hear it in her voice.)

About 5 minutes later, Chicky comes back in the shop and gets her hair finished and waits for her daughter.  Oh yes, her 6 year old daughter is with her.

By the time she finishes getting her hair styled, it is time for me to go and get my hair finished up. 

Well, I am sitting in a chair telling my hairdresser exactly what I wanted when the hilarity popped off...BIG TIME.

This dude...about 6'3" and 275lbs...comes up to the door yelling and swinging something in his hand...."So this is the shit you got around your kid?  You think this shit is cute.  This ain't funny one GD bit."

Now...what is in his hand you ask?  It is a brown dildo about the size of my forearm and he is holding it like one would hold a baseball bat that they are going to use for protection.

OMG...I am dying thinking about the whole situation.

Once he storms away, Chicky stands there shell shocked.  She gets her daughter and they run...out of the shop.

I know she barely made it out of the shop before one woman said..."Well, now we know what she didn't want him to see, but now we know what he can't do."

And that was it...as the WHOLE beauty shop errupted in laughter.

I swear...only in Harlem.