Posts Tagged ‘comedy’

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Your Acceptable Black Friend

January 27, 2014

So, I have some news. I have a new friend. She’s… Black.

And I’m not talking about just another card-carrying, flag-waving Oreo. She’s no RBP, but she downloaded Beyonce’s secret album the other week. Whatever. It’s no big deal. She filled out the application. And so now we have coffee every now and then.

Obviously when making a new black friend it’s important to be careful. Get too many of you together and it looks like you’re trying to stage a revival of The Color Purple.

And sure, she does like theater, but if we stage any production, it will probably be a revival of Proof. I’ll be playing the mathematical formula. It’ll be pretty groundbreaking.

Yes, there are some obvious risks with consorting with other Of Colors, but there are actually a couple of plusses as well. Tread carefully enough and you can still be a very special snowflake, but your new pal might just become a friend with some benefits.

She’ll have lotion.

Your Acceptable Black Friend probably doesn’t spend as much time trying to deny her countenance as you do. Because of that, she totally accepts that sometimes, said countenance gets ashy. White people can live without lotion forever. If their skin is dry, all they have to deal with is a distracting itch that can lead to cracks in the skin and possible infection.

What they don’t have to deal with is the embarrassing trail of chalky, flaky, white streak on brown skin if they dare scratch. (Meditation classes on ignoring discomfort are starting up again in a couple of weeks. PM me for deets).

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

I’d take the infection if it means that a simple itch didn’t draw attention to my Hamish curse. This leads to wishful thinking which leads to not buying lotion which leads to having to wear long pants all winter.

But your ABF probably just “accepts” that she gets ashy. So she’ll buy lotion. Which you can borrow on the DL.

You’ll be better at crossword puzzles.

I don’t know what “deuces” or “turnt out” means, but it’s fun to say (ironically, of course.) Thanks, ABF!

She’ll create a diversion

Despite an Oreo’s best efforts, at first blush, you’re still going to look ethnic. Relaxers and Peter Pan collars and tulle skirts aside, people will still get the wrong impression. This means that sometimes, people will approach you and use terms like “yo” and “articulate” when they start talking to you. They’ll point you away from the delicious trout canapés and tell you where the okra is or ask you how you feel about grinding on surfboarts or Michelle Obama’s healthy eating campaign.

You’d think the deer in the headlights look would be enough to deter them, but it usually only makes them ask more questions. Or encourages them to build you a playlist that includes far too little Sarah Watkins and far too many vocal riffs.

Your ABF, however, can fill in the gaps between their attempts at conversation and your terrified silence. While they chat, you can slip away unnoticed and take a moment to yourself to start planning your next Downton Abbey viewing extravaganza.

That Dowager’s got nothing on you. 

Bring it on, Violet!

Bring it on, Violet!

Deuces!

Who are some of your newest friends? What are the best things about them? And what is going on with Mr. Bates?? He’s about to lose his mind, right? He’s totally headed for Crazyton Abbey?

Let us know in the comments. 

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You Can’t Say That on Television…Without Letting Me Know to Tune In!

October 25, 2013
Aasif Mandvi - those eyes, that smirk, that ability to make people forget that their words are being broadcast to millions and that there are such things as "consequences" mmmmmmmm

Aasif Mandvi – those eyes, that smirk, that ability to make people forget that their words are being broadcast to millions and that there are such things as “consequences”  - Yum!

In case you didn’t catch Thursday’s Daily Show clip that everyone is talking about, here’s the Reader’s Digest version: (Note to self: Find out if people still read Reader’s Digest)

Aasif Mandvi interviewed Don Yelton, a GOP Precinct Captain from North Carolina. During the interview, the two discussed voting rights generally, and more specifically, the fact that since the Supreme Court repealed part of the Voting Rights Act, North Carolina has done what it can to make sure that only the right people get the right vote. Yelton agrees with this practice and supports oppressive voting rules that keep various populations out of the polls. Oh, and he’s super racist about it.

If you haven’t seen the video, it’s worth a watch. So click here for that. Don’t worry, we’ll wait. (and if someone wants to teach me how to embed Daily Show clips on WordPress, there’s a bright and shiny oatmeal raisin cookie in it for you!)

HmmmmmhmmmmmooooooAAAAAAAAAAlalalalalawhatdoesthefoxsaytchofftchofftchoffalliwantedwastobreakyourwaaaalllllsbuteverybody’slikecristalmaybachdiamondsonyourtimepiecesomethingsomethingtigersonagold — oh you’re back!

So yeah. I watched that video and as you might expect, I was pissed.

That guy was so phoning it in! Sure, he trotted out uncomfortably bigoted phrases like “one of my best friends is black,” and “lazy blacks,” and “we call them negroes,” and yes, he even dropped the n-word a couple of times. Good for him, but he left so many great phrases out!

With just one more ounce of sticktoitiveness, Mr. Yelton could have done us the favor of saying words and phrases like:

  • Welfare queens
  • Food stamp president
  • Tar baby
  • They just don’t value education
  • Our blacks are better than theirs
  • Look, if it wasn’t for slavery, they’d all still be smashing rocks and throwing spears in Africa
  • What’s the difference between a pizza and a black guy
  • Can I touch your hair
  • The Holocaust? Yeah, I’ve heard that propaganda before.
  • Fried chicken and diabetes

With just one or two extra phrases, I could have totally won last night’s game of Unbelievably Dumb And Totally Cliched Right Wing Racist Things Bingo–a game I play weekly. PM me for deets on the next location.

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How to Write about Current Events, Part II

July 17, 2013

Since Saturday, I’ve been trying to figure out what to say about the George Zimmerman non-verdict. Just like I tried to figure out what to say when all this started last year. Moments like this are what folks like me are here for. We’re supposed to say something hella pithy and clever and poignant and then drop the mic like BOOM.

The good news is, I have been saying a lot about the ol’ GZ sitch. The less good news is that the conversations have mostly been in my head. And they’ve sounded a little like this:

Saturday

TheOreoExperience: Holygoodness, I love me a singalong! And on such a lovely Los Angeles summer night! Ha! Summer days, drifting away to ah ah those suummmer niiiiiiights.

InnerWriterSelf: Psst! Pssssst! Psssssssssssssssssssssssssst! Check your phone!  Someone just got an AP Mobile update saying that the verdict has come in.

TOE: C’mon. I just got my goodie bag. There are bubbles in here. I guarantee you the verdict is not going to make me want to blow bubbles.

IWS: Who’s Bubbles?

TOE: My bubbles, I just– hey! I see what you did there. Stop being a child. We are at a Grease singalong. This is serious business.

IWS: Travolta’s tight pants are serious business.

TOE: Yes they are. So stop distracting me. I’ll deal with this tomorrow.

IWS: Okay. Sure thing.

(beat)

IWS: He was found not guilty of all charges.

TOE: WHAT?! WHAT THE EFFING HOLY MOTHER EFFING EFF?! HOW IS THAT–

IWS: We have to write about this.

TOE: I know, I know. But seriously, tomorrow. It hurts my self to think about this and It’s hard to put coherent satire together when you’re singing Beauty School Dropout.

Remember, kids. The moral of this story is something along the lines of become a slut to get the man of your dreams.  Not gonna say it worked for me...not gonna say it didn't.  (source)

Remember, kids. The moral of this story is something along the lines of become a slut to get the man of your dreams.
Not gonna say it worked for me…not gonna say it didn’t.
(source)

Every Day Since Saturday

IWS: Why aren’t we writing yet?

TOE: Because…I just… I mean, have you…

IWS: Oh, come on. You live for this stuff!

TOE: What a horrible thing to say.

IWS: But it plays perfectly into your whole narrative.

TOE: It’s just too dark. I mean, as much as I like making jokes about this stuff, I kinda wish i didn’t have to.

IWS: Yeah and I wish I had a unicorn right now.

TOE: Okay, fine.

IWS: Wish in one hand, poop in the other, see which one fills up first.

TOE: I get it.

IWS: When you wish upon a star, you look like a crazy person talking to yourself like that.

TOE: Okay!! You are not nice today.

IWS: We’ve got things to do. Let’s hear what you’ve got.

TOE: Okay, well I thought about doing a piece about how a little Oreo fashion instruction could solve a lot of issues. Instead of hoodies, black folks should don turtlenecks and wigs–they keep all the brown from being seen, but aren’t as gangy looking. The right wig can also totally throw someone off the scene. I’m thinking a Whig era wig, you know. Also, I look amazeballs in a turtleneck.  

IWS: Hmmm, yeah, now all I’m thinking about is that poor boy. Fucking sad.

TOE: That’s the problem!

IWS: What else ya got? I think we can still make something work.

TOE: Hmmm, I could make a list of names that were more likely to encourage a guilty verdict. I mean, if George Zimmerman had shot young Albert Van Beveran or little Larson Latimer or if he had murdered Mackenzie Morris, things might have been different. I could talk about how Oreos know this and so we’ll even change our last names if it arranges an anglo-tastic alliteration. Maybe throw in a list of things you can change your name to?

IWS: Yeah, it’s still really just bumming me out right now.

TOE: What about–

IWS: You know what. Why don’t we just call it a day maybe go out on a cat picture.

TOE: Sounds good! Can we do some kitten mittens?

IWS: Wouldn’t have it any other way.

TOE: You’re good to me.

IWS: I really am.

TOE: Thanks Craig for the tip on the gif!

IWS: Who’s Craig?

TOE: This guy I work with. He’s cool.

IWS: Right on.

1233209173_1993968011

 

TOE: Hey, IWS?

IWS: Yeah?

TOE: Is this maybe what’s wrong with, oh, everything by the way? The whole let’s just look at a cat gif instead of rising up and taking action as a society?

(beat)

IWS: It’s a really good gif.

TOE: Has everyone in my office seen me talking out loud to myself?

IWS: Yup!

TOE: We have really got to get you a body.

 

(Click here for How To Write About Current Events Part I)

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What are your favorite pieces on the Trayvon Martin case? Give us links in the comments!

Or, if you’re the emotional child that I am, what are your favorite make-yourself-feel-better photos or gifts? Leave those in the comments, too! 

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Rejected Paula Deen Party Ideas

July 1, 2013

I just caught up with the Paula Deen story this weekend. Seems like the n-word is just the tip of that buttery iceberg.

Deen not only wanted an all black staff at her brother’s wedding, she didn’t let them use the same bathroom or entrances or exits, she kinda wanted them to “tap dance around,”  and a bunch of other racist whatnots including recently apologizing and saying she’s not racist by using the punchline from a racist joke as said apology.

But, the woman should be given some credit. The wedding could have been a lot worse. Turns out,  the plantation-style, all-black-servants shindig was maybe the best of the other ideas on the table. Here are a few more themes Deen had on the back burner that she hasn’t been able to do…yet

Beads and Blankets Bonanza” - Guests will have the chance to purchase jewelry and couch throws at great prices! Hors d’oeuvres passed by the Chickasaw Nation.

Turquoise and tears.  A perfect combo!

Turquoise and tears. A perfect part pair!

Model Train Mayhem” – Guests will sip turn of the century cocktails while watching interns an elaborate miniature locomotive track around the seating area. Special thanks to interns Deng Shu Chan and Zhang Wei Huang.

Bonus! The interns double as footrests!

Bonus! The interns double as footrests!

Rosie the Riveter Rocks!!” – Guests will don 1940s costumes and build their own metal works…including windows bars and a new lock for front doors that will be fitted on the graciously donated home of Mr. and Mrs. Nakamura. Don’t worry that they’re still inside and the guests have the key. That’s all part of the fun!

You CAN do it...for about 10 years before your staff finally wises up and reports you to the proper authorities.

You CAN do it…for about 10 years before your staff finally wises up and reports you to the proper authorities.

They all sound like good ol’ fashioned grand times to me!

Deen’s not the only one who likes to party with blackface. Check out these  how-tos for getting down with the browns and let us know what you think!

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How to Meet Someone

December 3, 2012
(source)

Con’t be afraid to crop out dark spots in your photos.
(source)

With the end of the year comes a host of potentially awkward situations for an Oreo: office holiday parties, obligatory shindigs thrown by vague acquaintances, family dinners, the lack of new Shark Tank and Kitchen Nightmares episodes.

Not only is the Oreo forced to make make-believe merry with people who also don’t want to be there, but she or he might get stuck talking to another of color, or worse, an RBP. In some cases, an Oreo might find herself in the extra sticky situation of having to introduce another melanin-rich individual to someone else. Or worse, they might be introduced to a black person by a malicious member of their blanchetourage.

In either case, it is imperative to make it clear that the Oreo a) does not know this person well b) does not wish to know this person well and c) hopes no one gets to know this person well. Too much familiarity and an onlooker is certain to fear a gang-fight.

Here are some steps you can take at your next party to make sure that everyone knows you’re only shaking this person’s hand to be polite.

Mispronounce their name. Nothing says that you just don’t give a shit like the mispronunciation of a name you just heard learned. If you’re meeting a Michael, try calling them Michelle, La-Michael or Quantas to make sure no one thinks you’re friends. Adding an “accidental”  “La-” a “D’” or a “-eesha” to the beginning or end of most names will make them sound super black and thus allow everyone to recognize how little you think of this person. It will also draw attention to their darkness and keep people from looking at yours.

Look Away. Whether you look just above their heads, to the left or right of their ears or bury your face in yours or your neighbor’s purse, keep yourself from locking eyes with the Other. You don’t want them thinking that they can engage you in further conversation or steal your soul–which they will do.

Accentuate the negative. This will highlight your own accomplishments as well as ensure that mutual friends will try to keep their distance, which in turn, will help you keep yours. Try saying something like:

  • “Hi Marcie, this is LaJennifer-eessha, her divorce should be just about final by now.”
  • “Nice to meet you.. D’Steven, was it? Didn’t I see you in the parking lot just before that busload of children was shot… Huh. Must have been your twin, then!”
  • “This is LaD’EeshaJohnFootballPlayer. His sentencing hearing is next week. What’s that? You’ve never been convicted of anything? Huh, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. I mean… look at you!”

With phrases like these, you’ll ensure that the conversation will be brief and your humiliation bearable.

No touch. While you may not be able to get away with avoiding a handshake, do not under any circumstances hug, kiss, tickle or sleep with this person. You’re dark enough. You don’t want that shit rubbing off on you.

For more tips and tricks for social situations, see below.

Click here for an additional Holiday Party Survival Guide

Click here for info on how to deal with someone who looks Mixed Race

Click here to see how to deal with a white person who surprises you by suddenly sounding all black out of nowhere.

Celebrate carefully, my friends.

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Diary of a Mad White Black Woman: Fried Chicken Confession

November 19, 2012

Dear Diary,

I apologize. I am abject. I throw myself on the mercy of the court.

I would never have cooked it if a dear friend hadn’t asked. And I would never have eaten it if it wasn’t so amazeballs delicious… I mean… close to my face… I mean …the only way I could have saved those orphans. Yes! That was it! It was the only way! I swear!

I asked myself after eating if I felt more black. I replied to myself that no, I did not. I only felt ashamed…which is basically the same thing.

There are, however, some times when it’s okay to eat of the chicken… and sometimes I get it right…ish

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Oreos A – Z: G, H

October 3, 2012

A little set of rhymes to keep Oreos on their best behaviour.

G is for Gallup
A survey we hate
Why do they look so confused
When we check the box for our race?

Just because we cross out “–ther” and scrawl in “–reo” is no reason for them to get snippy
(source)

H is for Horse
Like you probably thought I would say
Everyone who loves ‘em
Throw your hands up and say “HAY!”

Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.
Plus you love hay. So whatever.
(source)

 

 

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Who’s the Creamiest of Them All? Oreo Showdown Me vs. Frank

September 26, 2012

I was incredibly proud of the heights of Oreodom to which I ascended this weekend. I was at a financier’s wedding in Wine Country that was totally hipstered out (bride and groom walked down the aisle to Bon Iver or some such, food trucks sported locally sourced, organic quinoa kale pizzas and for every tux trouser, there was a pair of Tom’s poking out of the bottom).

The attendants basically looked like this
(source)

At one moment, I took my glass of Northern California Shiraz in one hand, my Starbucks in the other and went for a stroll through the adjoining vineyard. I looked back at the scene and reveled in a couple’s lovely commitment to love and at my pulling off being the only black person in attendance.

It’s the little things.

Then something caught my eye. A black guy. Surely, I thought, he’s here to hand me the keys to my car or take away this biodegradable wine glass. But no… he was a guest like me. When I figured that out, the competition was on! I was not going to let this handlebar mustachioed, Steampunk suit sporting dude out Oreo me.

Naturally, I couldn’t talk to him directly lest people think we were extras from Real Housewives of Atlanta, so I ran my reconnaissance and found out that he was doing an excellent job at Oreoing.

He was an accomplished equestrian, a fine artist photographer, had clearly trained in ballroom dancing…and did I mention the handlebar mustache. I imagined him twirling it like an old timey villain if and when he found out he had bested me. He spoke French, made a delicious tapenade, had been a vegan since he was 12 and was from Connecticut!

Even I have a hard time matching those stats.

Damn you, home state! Why couldn’t you have been a Dakota?
(source)

I was about to tip my french veiled hat in concession when I saw his date… She was White! A black guy dating a white women. That is SUCH an RBP thing to do!! I win.

So instead of stopping, I grabbed another glass for a victory lap around the wine bar safe in the knowledge that I finally made up for the other wedding party that, despite my best bestest efforts, went terribly. An unfortunate loss for him, but it was a game well played, sir. Well played indeed.

And yes, I get the Catch-22 that Oreo guys are in. Date a black girl and people start thinking you’re just escorting her to her next john. Date a white girl and you look like an RBP. Oh well, we all have our crosses to bear. Anyone have any suggestions?

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What Not To Say When Everyone In The Room Shouts The N Word, Then Suddenly Realizes You’re Also In The Room

September 20, 2012

Zumba. I love it. Especially on nights like tonight.

Zumba is actually tricky for an Oreo. During the dance-style group exercise class, some of the moves can come dangerously close to looking like popping and/or locking. So as a good Oreo, I always try to stiffen up a little on some of the hippier moves so as not to frighten the other dancers or myself.

What I feel like when I work out

And then tonight, something wonderful happened. I don’t know what the song was (Sondheim didn’t write it, so I was at a loss), but everyone else in the room did. As we danced, they sang along and sang along and sang along. Suddenly, a group n-word was dropped.

I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Usually, when there’s an RBP in the room, people would shy away from one of the most offensive words in the English language. They’d think twice about shouting out in unison a word that has probably gotten people killed. At the very least, it’s gotten people into debates on Oprah’s couch–which for an Oreo might be a scarier place than the business end of a revolver. Normally, if an RBP was in a room, people would maybe try to be polite.

But not with me there. It was like they didn’t think I was black at all!!

Unfortunately, as quickly as my happiness was upon me, it disappeared. For seconds after they said the word, they caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and everyone looked embarrassed. No one sang along for the rest of class.

What I look like when I work out

My apologies, ladies (and you, one rockin’ gent) for sullying tonight’s good time. I will work on my pointe and hopefully blend in much better next time.

Granted, some of the following did go through my head, but thanks to my Oreo training, they stayed inside and my outside voice never took control:

  • What the effing eff??! Why do you all know this song???!
  • What the effing eff???! Why did you include this song in your playlist??!
  • I might need to speak to management about this.
  • I’m concerned you might not understand some basic points of everyday etiquette
  • You’re right, it is ~just~ a word after all, you stupid whale cunt.
  • *sobs*

Any of those responses would have seemed really RBP-like. Sure, the growing ulcer in my stomach might one day take over my entire digestion system. But I’ll look darn good while I’m convalescing. Yay, Zumba!

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Wherein I Write A Letter That Is Unlikely To Be Answered

August 9, 2012

Dear Dryer,

You had to go and do it again, didn’t you? Seriously, you couldn’t let it go just this once. You just had to make a point, exert your will, control this situation, get the last word in and piss me right the eff off.

These beautiful Mossimo pants, which were once a pleasant size 8 are now, despite my having dried them on your “delicate” setting, a stomach crunching size 4. Thanks, dryer! There’s not a Target on every corner. It’s gonna take me days to replace these. Days! Oh, what’s that?? I should just order something online so I don’t even have to leave my desk? Whatever. Ease of acquisition is not the point. What is the point is that you’re a dick.

You mess with Target clothes, you mess with the Mizrahi. And you don’t want to see the Mizrahi when he’s angry. PS: He’s always angry.
(source)

I see what’s going on. You want me to think that there’s something wrong with me. That my metabolism has suddenly stopped and that I didn’t deserve Friday’s donuts or today’s burritos. That marathon training and Zumba are lost on me. But you’re wrong, dryer, you’re wrong! This isn’t about my shortcomings, this is about your inability to communicate!

And seriously, wtf?! If this is what you do on “delicate,” what horrors do you inflict on people who dare to dry their clothes on the “regular” cycle? Is the latter setting there just in case people want a creative way to make doll and dog clothes? Or do you just want us all to hate ourselves and go bankrupt, one pair of now-too-tight slacks at a time?

You know, it’s this kind of passive-aggressive behaviour that keeps you all alone in that room with only Washing Machine to keep you company. Notice how everyone in the apartment complex only hangs out with you for a few seconds at a time? Yeah, it’s because you’re an asshole and we’re all just using you. There, I said it. I wanted to be nice, but I just can’t anymore.

Don’t think that you’ve won just because your assholery has caused those pants to be the last pair of my pants that fit. I’m still ahead of you! I have skirts, Dryer. Three of them. And 2 work-appropriate dresses. TWO! And I can wear these items with various scarves and jackets in such a way that my coworkers will have no idea that I’ve sported the same 5 articles of clothing every week for the last 6 months. They may occasionally have their suspicions, but only you and I will know the truth. And I, like the elephant you’d like me to believe that I am, will never forget your transgression.

Good memories and super adorable! Also they can crush you with their thoughts.
(source)

See if I waste my shiny 2012 quarters on you from now on. It’s rusty 1950s coins only from now on.

If you do find yourself with something to say, you know where to find me.

Signed,

TheOreoExperience, AKA, The B in apartment 14 1/2

Yeah, Dryer, I know it doesn’t rhyme, okay?! Jeez get off my back!

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For Mor-eo Oreo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
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Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
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