Oh my God, how I loathe thee. Walking down the street with four or five brightly colored bracelets on each arm, a lime green tutu and yellow spandex. What men see in you, I couldn't possibly understand, but fortunately my taste in women doesn't reside in such colorblind creatures.
Sitting in the back of the bus with Nay-Nay and Larishaqueshanaekown yelling "FUCK YOU, BITCH" and talking about how big Jakwonalonathon's penis is. My child will be attending county school to avoid your tomfoolery.
Goddamn MTA bus. You're rarely on time and the denizens of your bus make me consider walking to my destination rather than waiting two hours for a bus that can get me down the street.
Your bus drivers are as effective at enforcing rules as school teachers. If someone lights a cigarette on your bus, you don't give a shit. Matter of fact, you wouldn't stop your bus unless some pickaninnies are having a battle in the back, but by then one of them have probably already pulled out a gun and killed us.
This is an annoyance that's starting to become less prominent due to Sheila Dixon telling the knockers "Eat what you want", but it became a pain in the ass. The bloods and crips in Baltimore now don't really do shit except jump people that aren't in gangs and yell out gang jargon to passing buses.
What happened to the good old days? Not that those days were good (Baltimore is actually safer now than it was, say, 20 years ago), but I remember when dudes were repping neighborhoods and shit rather than colors. Baltimore & Hilton, Edmondson Village, Edmonson Ave, Irvington and all that shit. Fortunately from me, I was from neighborhoods no one cared about, so I didn't get jumped. . . Well, once, but that was in middle school and it was random as shit.
I could think of more, but not right now. I guess this is a part 1.