they know…

i grew up on madonna. really. i was dancin all around my house. hip hop style. with my lisa lisa hair cut. eric b. and rakim, run dmc, kool moe dee, the beastie boys, etc…on steady rotation. in my little mini skirt. getting rapped to by all the little black and puerto rican and dominican boys break dancing in mozart park.

you couldn’t say shit to me about madonna. i would go — completely brazy!

i loved madonna! i remember trickin my father with my homegirl from the hood, on our way to the cape. listen to this classical music!! it was the beginning of

*papa don’t preach* he was all like, oh! i’m so glad ya’ll are into classical music. with his npr, “fresh air” shit.

(this is my best friend! lmao! we are very different! and very similar! she cleaner than clean! lmmfao!)

that nigga almost crashed the ride — we were rollin! lmmfao! — when madonna started singing *papa don’t preach*

i was really singing, *like a virgin*. it was my girl anthem! that, and cyndi lauper *girls just want to have fun*

i was totally proud of being a virgin. really. wasn’t no penis in me. i thought madonna, was a virgin as well.

until my dad was like, i don’t think madonna’s a virgin, erica. lmmfao!

squad!

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