I just recently finished reading Nelson George's "Hip-Hop America" which got me feeling nostalgic about my days as a teenage thug. Don't be so surprised; the first tape I bought was "He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper" by DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince, and the first CD I bought was Public Enemy's "Fear of a Black Planet." While I quickly outgrew that phase, "Apocalypse 91" still is entrenched in my CD collection. So I got to thinking about what it would have been like if my tastes hadn't evolved and I let my love of mad fresh rhymes permeate my existence. So described below is my week-long attempt at getting in touch with my inner MC.

Monday: Went to work wearing a black Adidas track suit, tennis shoes without laces, and a b-boy hat. Have you ever tried walking up stairs in shoes without laces? They just keep falling off. Gonna have to take the elevator from now on. First things first, I've gotta mark my territory. So I spray my tag (ok, so it was just an X, I'm new to this) on the wall above the water fountain. Sure enough, in less than an hour I spot Kathy from IT filling up her Weight Watcher's mug from my fountain. There was only one to defend my turf, and that was to step to her and challenge her to a break-off at high noon. So when the time came, I lugged my cardboard to the fountain and started stretching. She never showed. I guess we know who got served, but this ain't over.

Tuesday: After tripping six more times yesterday day, I broke down and bought some laces. But just to prove that I ain't no sellout, I left the Adidas track jacket at home and went to work shirtless with a Security of the First World do-rag on my head. After I got to work, I took the clock down from the wall and hung it around my neck from a chain fastened from paper clips. Who's the sellout now? I probably shouldn't have taken that clock though; all day people kept asking me what time it was. That must be a popular clock. I tried a little experiment by answering the phone "Yeah boy!" or "Whatcha want" but no one seemed to know how to respond. I think my boss is jealous of my new look; all day long she just looked at me and shook her head. Don't hate - plenty to go around, baby.

Wednesday: Today I decided to mix it up with some parachute pants and gold sequin vest that I saw in last Sunday's Kohl's ad. I'm also sporting a fresh fade with lines shaved in the side and a few extra lines notched in my left eyebrow, one for each donut I ate on my way to work today. Kathy from IT asked me for some freestyle rhymes, but I froze and could only come up with the lyrics to the Kid n Play Sprite commercial: "Hey, yo Kid, where's the party?/ Check it out I'm Kid/ and I kid you not/ I like the Sprite/ I like the Sprite a lot./ Yo my name's Play/ but I ain't playin/ I like the Sprite/ you know what I'm sayin?" Fortunately, most of my coworkers don't know much about hip-hop and are primarily Pepsi drinkers, so I think I got away with it, but I'll have to get some original rhymes together for tomorrow, just in case.

Thursday: Came to work today wearing a University of Michigan Starter jacket and matching baseball cap, Timberlands, and a pair of jeans that were way too big. I spent most of the day just trying to keep them from falling around my ankles. Probably didn't help that I kept my gatt in the waist band. Ok, it wasn't a gatt, just the zapper from my NES – do you have any idea how much a real pistol costs nowadays? Plus, by the time I waited the 7 days, my experiment would have been over. The zapper did the trick though; I flashed it at Kathy from IT and she backed down. I was eager to try out my new lyrics, so at the staff meeting that afternoon I didn't even wait to be challenged: "Knocking out suckers like Bo Jackson with a bat/ unloading my uzi, not even touching my gatt/ taking on all comers whether skinny or fat/ lickin more pu$$y than Arlo the cat.// Like the Mario Brothers stomping on a turtles head/ shoutin out "station" like they was Bill and Ted/ violets are blue baby, roses are red/ I'll be throwin down rhymes till y'all wish ya was dead." My boss then rewarded me with the rest of the day off. That was alright with me, it was getting hot in there.

Friday: For the last day of my experiment, I went to work in a white three-piece suit, sunglasses, and using an umbrella as a cane. I was in a meeting all morning; whenever anyone asked me a question, I would repeat what someone else said a few minutes earlier in a faint mumble, just changing a few words or throwing in the occasional "izzle." Diddy would have been proud. When the meeting was over, I broke out the champagne and proceeded to spray it all over everyone else. I didn't realize how much of a mess that stuff makes. That conference table is gonna need some serious cleaning. I quickly emptied the case that I brought with me that morning, so I had to make a trip to the liquor store during my lunch break for some more. My wife's not gonna like that dry cleaning bill.

Conclusions: The results were mixed. Sure, I lost my job, got pulled over by the cops 17 times for no reason, and caused most of my neighborhood to put up their houses for sale. But I did get Kathy in IT to respect me. Or maybe it's fear. Either way. As Heavy D said, "Some of the best things in life are free." He wasn't the first to say it, and he did say it in the Living Color theme song, but it still rings true. I'm sure Easy-E is looking down from heaven now, and I'm sure he would approve.