I got a tattoo and accidentally affiliated myself with the East Oakland White Girl Mob

Categories: Breeality Bites

RatchetHoHairBrush.png
My ratchet ho hairbrush
Tattoos are dumb. Ask my mom. Don't ask her, actually, because it isn't all tattoos that are dumb in her eyes, just my little girly clip art pieces and that giant weird dead cat thing my neighbor got tattooed on his calf. My brother has a whole arm full of banger graffiti tats and she doesn't have a single complaint about those. Not even the "KIDS LIFE" tattoo he has scrawled across the interior of each finger. (And in case you were curious, KIDS LIFE means, and I quote, "Eat cereal everyday." Words to live by.) Well mom, guess what? Now I have gang tattoo, too. But it was completely by accident.

While on a West Coast tour this spring with my band and some of our friends, we all decided to get tattoos commemorating the journey. Along with a piece of John Candy on the inside of my right bicep repping my own band, I got a hair brush with the initials "R.H." tattooed above it. Who is R.H., you ask? Why that's me. I'm a Ratchet Ho, or in other words, a wild and out of control girl that you dare not take to the club, because she might tear it up. Or something.

Spending hours in a van left me a lot of time to do things like peruse Twitter, which is where I discovered this term. I was immediately fascinated: the word ratchet was so gnarly sounding, rolling off the tongue like a something I wouldn't have been caught dead saying in Catholic school, but better. I couldn't remember the last time I used the word ratchet to describe anything, but now, it was my adjective, my noun, my verb, my favorite thing. The cashier at a truck stop was a ratchet ho. The man working the door at the venue was a ratchet ho. Everyone was acting ratchet. I was the supremely swaggarific ratchet ho!

When it came time to get our tattoos, naturally, I was going to wear my new ratchet ho name badge forever. And I now I do, in black and red Sailor Jerry-ish curly cursive handwriting on my pale arm.

A few days ago, I was seven windows deep into a YouTube K-hole when I came across rapper Kreayshawn's video for "Gucci Gucci." Along with her DJ Lil' Debbie, the East Oakland Odd Future bffs and Lil' B video proprietarios are part of the White Girl Mob, a crew of rapping, self-proclaimed ratchet hos. They were the real thing. And now I, the 30-year-old Bree Davies, a white girl from Colorado, had affiliated myself with some serious ratchet hos, without even knowing it.

Mom, I hope you're proud. It isn't just my brother with the banger tats anymore, it's me, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fuck with some basic bitches in my boxing class.

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2 comments
Dav
Dav

You are an idiot

Party Rat
Party Rat

Gucci Gucci gets stuck in my head at work when I'm searching for rogue commas and there's a lot of effort to NOT yell out, "I got the swag and it's pumpin' out my ovaries!" 

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