How Cool Is This!

Reading past posts on a Blog I frequent called Thumper Thinks Out Loud, I came upon one that has been translated into "Gangsta" by something called Gizoogle.
     'Cool', thinks I! 'I'd like to do that...'

.....and so, to cheer myself up as I am stuck at home stuffed up with cold right now rather than making joyous noise at the weekly choir rehearsal (as I should be doing; the concert is in just 6 weeks!), I did.

And here it is: a Blog post of mine from late last year, translated by Gizoogle into Gangsta.
     Enjoy (and beware to those who are sensative to bad language).

***

Friday, 6 December 2013

A Note To All Cold Callers:

Dear Cold Callaz Callin From Various Organisations & For Varyin Reasons:

Please, fo' tha ludd of God, STOP PHONING US! We is never goin ta buy/sign up for/say shit bout whatever it is yo ass be aimin ta sell/promote/research, so it would be easier on all involved if you would all just bugger off n' leave our asses tha Hell ridin' solo.

Thank yo thugged-out ass.

Yours faithfully,
Alice.

Seriously; dis is beyond a joke now, nahmeean?
    Unlike other (lucky) people, I aint gots tha option of leavin tha telephone whenever it rings n' lettin tha answer-machine pick up tha slack. Cuz of mah motherz line of work, if it rings n' we is in, we HAVE ta pick up tha phone; just up in case. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So unlike other (lucky) people, rather than bein inconvenienced every last muthafuckin now n' again, both mah mutha n' I is inconvenienced several times a thugged-out day.
    I used ta feel wack bout spittin some lyrics ta tha playas on tha other end of tha beeper - as politely as possible - dat we weren't interested n' hangin up. No longer n' shiznit fo' realz. Afta two muthafuckin yearz of this, wit calls increasin up in frequency over dat time, I be no longer simply fed up; I be incredibly pissed off. I be aware dat tha thug rappin' ta me aint directly at fault (everybody need ta git a livin somehow) n' cuz of dis I still try ta keep mah tone as polite as possible but afta politely n' firmly sayin mah piece (usually either "sorry but our phat asses don't conduct surveys over tha phone. I be goin ta hang up now, bye" or "sorry yo, but we never purchase or order anythang over tha phone. I be goin ta hang up now, bye") I hang up; often while tha skanky biatch/man is still bustin lyrics.
     How tha fuck do these g-units make any scrilla from this?, biatch? They must do, otherwise tha bidnizz of cold callin would no longer exist (apart from tha hawkin done on behalf of various 'charities', fo' instance, tha bidnizz of callin from door ta door ta push varyin wares be all but gone) yo, but I be damned if I know how tha fuck or why it happens. No Muthafucka dat I know appreciates receivin unsolicited phone-calls; nor has mah playas I know eva been convinced tha fuck into buyin or signin up fo' anything.

... =sighs= ...

Sorry. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I had a wack week n' three such calls up in tha past two hours. I be feelin mo' than a lil cranky right now n' dat shiznit was either scream all up in tha sickest fuckin lost ass dat had tha misfortune ta rang me at dat second (from tha soundz of it, wit tha aim of rappin' me tha fuck into agreein ta pay fo' a cold-ass lil computa screenin service) or rant on here.
     I chose tha latter.

Got ta bounce tha fuck out. My fuckin mini shift at SENSE awaits.

***

Alice x