"Diamonds & Wood" is an ongoing series in which music critic Shea Serrano breaks down the 5 hip-hop tracks you need to hear this week.
Shit never works out. Never. At least not how I hope it does.
Here’s what happened: My wife, she is female Hercules. (I was thinking “Shercules,” like She + Hercules, but nope. It sounds too much like a disease you’d get from being on a boat for too long.) She does SO much work. Like, it’s an unfair amount of work. I’m saying, it’s fine when it’s just her and the baby. But when it’s me + the two five-years-old, Jesus, we’re THE FUCKING WORST.
I’m saying, like, we just walk in making messes. It’s all, “Boom. Home. Where should I put my socks and shorts and shoes? In that basket on the side of the room? Nah, homie. How about righttthefuck here.” And then we just throw shit wherever we are.
And have you ever seen five-year-old boys pee? They’re worse at it than I am and I’m TERRIBLE. I’m like Chris Bosh shooting threes when I pee—I’m in the area, but only accurate probably 28 percent of the time. Hand to God, one day Boy B was in there not even peeing in the toilet. He was literally standing there peeing on the shower curtain. I mean, I’ve peed IN the shower, sure, but not on the actual shower curtain, yo. The whole house, that’s just how we treat it,because we three know when we wake up the next morning everything will have been reset back to its default clean setting.
Basically, we’re all just dirty little assholes. So I thought, I figured it’d be a sweet sort of thing to hire a maid to come by the house and clean everything. There’s this old Mexican lady that cleans some of the other homes near us—you pay her $80 and she knocks it down. She does everything. She’s there, maybe, six hours and hits everything, from organizing the dishes to dusting the fans (truly impressive, given that she’s barely four feet tall).
So she comes to the house yesterday and OH. MY. GOD.
My heart’s just not black enough to have a maid. It just seems so not very cool. She was vacuuming my taco shell crumbs from behind the desk and dusting my work area and scrubbing bagel bite bits from the inside of the oven and bleaching away whatever bodily fluids she happened across and I’m sitting there at my computer like a jackass playing Twitter and Facebook. No shit, I felt like Leonardo DiCaprio in Django Unchained. It was so terrible and awkward and I don’t know how any of you fools with regular maids do it.
She was the nicest lady—a small round woman with a big mom butt and a sweet, sweet smile that made her eyes disappear. And she worked so hard. I just…it’s too much.
When she finished, I asked her to at least let me give her a ride home. She said no, that she had another place to visit, but that I could drop her off at the bus stop so she could link back up with her husband because she rode the bus to my house because I am a great big piece of American poop.
Here’s your stupid rap songs for you to listen to on your new iPhone 5 or whatever. I don’t even have any commentary. I’m just going to list the things in my house that she did that I’ve not done one single time in the seven years I’ve lived there because, again, me = poop.
1. Denzel Curry and Nell feat. Sir Michael Rocks, “Shepherd”
She cleaned the mirror in the bathroom :(
2. Wu-Tang Clan, “Family Reunion”
She cleaned area behind the crib :(
3. Tory Lanez, “Up (Fell In Love)”
She cleaned the bathtubs :(
4. Action Bronson feat. LL Cool J and Lloyd Banks, “Strictly 4 My Jeeps (Remix)”
She cleaned the hardwood floors :(
5. Alex Wiley feat. Chance The Rapper and GLC, “Spaceship II”
She cleaned the refrigerator :(
I’m not a man. I’m not even a facsimile of a man.
Shea Serrano is a writer living in Houston, TX. His work has appeared in the Houston Press, LA Weekly, Village Voice, XXL, The Source, Grantland and more. You can follow him on Twitter here.