My daughter digs the old school rap.

We’ve been told to play music for her which in this house, believe me, is not a problem. Her mother is practically a walking Disney album and may actually be the real Little Mermaid. I cannot sing, but I’m a federally licensed commercial broadcaster, which means I feel entitled to steal music off the internet.

Anyway, we’ve been through a wide assortment of genres and nothing moves her like old school beats. She likes Eric B and Rakim, she grooves on some Doug E. Fresh, and sheds a tear for ‘Pac. Sinatra, Zeppelin, Elvis… they matter not. This kid likes beats and drooling. Nothing more. She even tends to favor West Coast over East Coast, which blows my mind. I can barely tell the difference, and I speak roughly the same language the rappers do. How the hell is she figuring it out?

It’s more clear to me now than ever that she is a Native Californian, and there’s nothing I can do about it. While I will always be a South Sider, she will always be a California Girl. Lately, the Redhead and I have been talking of moving, because fuck Hollywood. Seriously, this place sucks. Choppers and drag races all night long… it’s madness, I tellz ya. But move where? I hate the 818. That’s where people go to have kids and picket fences and shit. You know: Squaresville. Do we willingly make our daughter a (gasp!) Valley Girl?

Yeah, probably.