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Yesterday, I found myself at a dining room table with a plate in front of me filled with several “no thank you” sized portions of ham, turkey, taters, dressing, green beans (I shook the almonds off), macaroni and cheese (sans blue box), and probably a few other items which escape my memory for now.
Granted, those were all side dishes for the main course. My daughter has been making her own sourdough bread for years now.
That was followed up by Wifey’s chocolate pie.
For the days leading up to yesterday’s GobbleTude and even into this morning, I’ve been feeling “blah”. I don’t know what it is, and I’m guessing it will pass soon. It’s not bad enough to watch The Price Is Right in the middle of the day while drinking 7-Up and eating saltines.
Yet.
Honestly, I’ve got to think that combination alone is enough to get any ass out of bed and back to school.
Anyway, I was surrounded by members from Wifey’s side of the family. Tonka was providing Weimaraner support in the only way his 8 month-old-self knew how to do. I, on the other hand, was heroically applying my filters and limiting my radical candor about whatever was being discussed at the time.
As I understand it, there was a new cat or two in the household. They were both too stuck up to make an appearance at the family gathering.
Okay whether they were stuck up or not appreciative of the Weimaraner support is still up in the air. Irregardlessly, they were nowhere around.
The discussion turned to one of those cats. It seems that Penelope is a gangster and only makes rare appearances. In response, Wifey responded, “Oh she’s ridin’ dirty huh?”
Alarms went off in my head. Did Wifey just say that? I looked at her and she looked back. “What?”
“Uuummmmm.” No one else around the table said anything. They either didn’t know that term or were not fazed by it.
Based on Wifey using that term and no one reacting to it the way I did, I reassessed the term. Is it possible that I just had a naughtier understanding of what that term actually meant?
Fortunately there’s an app or two on the wireless communication device I carry (the phone, not the firearm) which is better at searching out inane and stupid questions on a vast network of computers and servers. It will then curate those responses into a concise, Too Long Did Not Read (TL;DR) version for my rapid consumption.
Define: “Ridin’ Dirty”
TL;DR:
“Ridin’ dirty” = driving around while possessing something you really don’t want the police to find.
Slightly longer (but still non-thug, non-rap focused):
In general slang, ridin’ dirty means operating a vehicle while carrying illegal, prohibited, or otherwise problematic items—anything from expired documents to contraband. It can also be used jokingly to refer to having something minor you shouldn’t, like an unregistered dog tag or a cup you “borrowed” from a restaurant.
If you want alternative, non-street phrasing (in keeping with your preferences), here are a few:
- “Driving with contraband courage.”
- “Operating a vehicle under questionable cargo conditions.”
- “Transporting items best left unmentioned.”
- “Motoring with miscellaneous mischief.”
- “In possession of things that don’t hold up well under flashlight inspection.”
Oh I thought it was sexual. Somewhat relieved. Wifey just uttered it at Thanksgiving lunch
Good news: it’s not a sexual term.
If your wife said it over turkey and stuffing, she was almost certainly not announcing anything scandalous.
It’s nearly always used to mean someone is driving around with something they shouldn’t have—legal, illegal, or just embarrassing. In family settings it’s often tossed out jokingly, like:
- “I forgot my wallet, so I’m ridin’ dirty.”
- “We’ve got leftovers sliding all over the backseat; we’re ridin’ dirty.”
- “Your brother’s driving with a cracked taillight—ridin’ dirty!”
So you can safely enjoy your pumpkin pie without worrying she was dropping a coded innuendo.
Okay I need a pic of a thug cat named Penelope ridin’ dirty. Dealers choice on what the contraband is.
Penelope the thug cat is ready for you now—decked out in shades, gold chain, and rolling with her contraband. Click the card above to see her in full “ridin’ dirty” glory.
What’s in the baggy?
That baggy’s packed with premium feline contraband: Grade-A catnip, the kind that makes Penelope go full Fast & Furriest.
We’re talking:
- 🌿 Fluffy green nuggets—dried Nepeta cataria, organically grown in the back alleys of Meowxico.
- 🐾 Street value: One head boop and a purr per gram.
- 🚨 Effects: Zoomies, wall scratches, and spontaneous interpretive dance on the dashboard.
Penelope’s not just ridin’ dirty—she’s ridin’ purr-loined. Want to escalate the chaos? I could add a second image with her dealer, a shady ferret named Rico who only accepts payment in sardines and secrets.
Obama’s ‘spiritual leader’. Was that Jeremiah Wright?
Yes — Jeremiah Wright is the pastor most often referred to in that context.
Barack Obama attended Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago for many years, where Rev. Jeremiah Wright was his longtime pastor. Wright wasn’t Obama’s formal “spiritual advisor” in an official capacity, but he was the most publicly associated clergy figure in Obama’s early political life.
So if someone says “Obama’s spiritual leader,” the name they’re almost certainly thinking of is Jeremiah Wright.
Seems like there was a quote of him using the term “ridin’ dirty’ talking about Bill Clinton and Monica. Is that correct?
Yes — there are documented reports that Jeremiah Wright used the phrase “ridin’ dirty” when referring to Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky.
Here’s what’s public:
- In a 2008-era sermon Wright reportedly said: “Bill did us just like he did Monica Lewinsky. He was riding dirty.”
- According to media coverage, Wright even imitated the act in a crude, provocative manner from the pulpit.
So yes — “ridin’ dirty” in Wright’s usage was meant as a derogatory, slang-laden commentary about sexual scandal, not the benign “illegal-cargo-in-the-car” sense many people hear today.
….and that’s why I thought it had a sexual connotation
Well at least the TV wasn’t on and tuned in to The Price Is Right or those clowns up the road whose pathetic display of football serve to ruin our gratitude every Thanksgiving.
