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When I was growin up in Cincinnati, we used to buy weed off this hilarious black dude named, Charles White. And he always said it so proudly, Charles White! It was always kinda skanky weed, but this dude was so funny we loved going to see him. One day we’re there and he’s telling us this story about his baby mama being mad as hell at him, and he turns the corner and she hits him “wit a smootie”, as he put it.
We were fallin out laughing so hard at this story, and always kept smootie in our repertoire. We just thought it meant a sucker punch and we said it all the time when the situation was appropriate. Fast forward like a year later and me and my boys were back over at Charles White’s and he’s telling us about how we gotta hurry cuz he’s late for work and he can’t find his smootie.
We’re all like, wait a minute Charles, exactly what is a smootie?
“Oh you know, that thing you used to smoot out the wrinkles on your dress shirt man. Come On.”
Holy shit. This is why we went to see Charles White. Always a trip.
Speaking of smooties