Posts Tagged ‘comedy’


Nine Sports That Are Weirder Than Dressage

June 21, 2012

I’ll be honest. Even with the New England snobbery, the affinity for Brooks Brothers and his disdain for the brown, I’ve yet to find much use for Mitt Romney.

But then he was outed…as a dressage enthusiast!!

Yes, there may be some sticky issues with the fact that he was able to write off upwards of $70,000 on his taxes for his pretty ponies while many of us will never ever make upwards of $70,000 in a whole year, but…but…but… DRESSAGE PONIES! One of the hallmarks of Oreodom and animals which I truly love and adore.

The Atlantic Wire wrote this week that it was Perfectly OK to Make Fun of Ann Romney’s Weird Horse Sport.

Sigh. If you want to ridicule Ann Romney for something animal-related, It’s Perfectly OK to Make Fun of Ann Romney’s Weird Bird Shirt instead.

If you’re saying yourself, “That bird shirt is so not worth $900,” then you clearly don’t know fashion

Dressage, while a very specific exercise that involves using nearly invisible movements of your hands, calves, ankles and thighs to make your horse cycle through a variety of gaits in time to lovely music that you’ve chosen, is definitely not the weirdest of sports. Plus you get to wear an awesome hat.

If you’re saying to yourself, “That hat is so not worth $300,” you clearly hate animals.

There are plenty of sports dumber than dressage. Like these!

Football – wherein a bunch of men are encouraged to be obese so that they can fall down on top of other men top stop them from stopping some other guys from running away with a relatively small object called a ball that is in a completely different shape than every other ball ever.

Hockey – wherein ice skaters make each other bleed.

Golf – wherein they should bring back the old-style breeches because those pants at least make sense while it makes no sense to use a thin stick to try and hit a tiny ball into a hole that you can’t even see.

Basketball – wherein giants make squeaky noises with their feet while sharing ownership of a bright orange ball as they try to put it into a web of netting with the bottom missing. No baskets are involved in the sport. Also, points rack up quickly and very high – suggesting this is too easy of an exercise.

Figure Skating – wherein ice skaters make each other anorexic.

Soccer – wherein extraordinarily attractive bodies pretend to be injured  so they can stop the incessant running and get a moment or two of peace during a game that goes on for hours and hours with the very real possibility of having no points scored–suggesting this is too difficult of an exercise.

Table Tennis – wherein people pretend to play tennis.

MMA – wherein men wear very few clothes and are allowed to beat, punch and kick each other until they nearly die. But are not allowed to beat, punch and kick each other the one area that would ensure a win in the fight and prevent brain damage.

Beach Volleyball - wherein people use competition as an excuse to take off many of their clothes. Show-offs.

Now compare those silly pursuits to the fine art of dressage! In dressage, you and your mount keep time with music. Plus it’s perfectly okay to use the word “mount” to refer to the thing between your legs and no one can say you’re just being gratuitous. You obsess about your extensions are correct and you get to braid your horse’s hair into pretty shapes…

…Wait a minute… Dancing? Extensions?! Cornrows?!? Maybe dressage isn’t the safe haven I thought it was.

Ah well, at least there’s still the hat.

…and the hot.

Do you play any of the ridiculous sports listed above? What do you like about said sort? Let us know in the comments!

Not sure what sport is right for you? Click here to find out!

Team sports are actually a struggle for this Oreo. Find out why here!

For Mor-eo Oreo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
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Things I Didn’t Say: Zumba

June 4, 2012

I’ll never tell….you what I’m really thinking. I’m nice like that.

Part of being a Oreo in working order is perfecting the time-honored tradition of not speaking up when you want to. No need to get confused for RBP who shout in movie theaters and are too loud on buses.

The truth is though,that whether you’re an RBP, trying desperately not to look like an RBP or are just someone who is alive, no one wants to hear what you have to say anyway. Generally, in life, when people say things to you, they are not looking for your thoughts on their quip in return. They merely want to exercise their ego and have their opinion go unchallenged. Most interactions are just there to prevent silence from killing us all.

For example, imagine two people in an elevator, then consider the following three scenarios and their anticipated outcomes:

Scenario 1:

Person 1: How are you?
Person 2: I’m just okay. Got some troubling news from home and am really unprepared for this meeting–just not sure if this is the right field for me anymore, but don’t know that I can incur the risks of a career change.
Person 1: (set self on fire)

See how awkward it was when person 1 told the truth. Tsk, tsk.

Scenario 2:

Person 1: (says nothing)
Person 2: (says nothing)
Person 1 and 2: (set selves on fire)

Ugh. Spending a whole minute next to a human being without admitting that you can both see each other even though neither of you really has anything to say and you’re both hoping to just get off this lift and to the meeting that you spent all weekend preparing for…awkward. Painfully awkward.

Scenario 3

Person 1: How are you?
Person 2: Fine, you?
Person 1: I’m good, thanks.
Person 2: (waits for Person 1 to leave the elevator, then sets self on fire…because of circumstances related to an unclear conversation that was had with the spouse over the weekend…but definitely not because of a crap elevator ride…aaaaand, Person 1 didn’t have to get involved in any of that sticky personal business)

See how easy it is to avoid having to deal with someone’s issues.

And it was with that spirit that I held my tongue after Zumba class this week when someone thought it apropos to say to me:

“Love this class! You sisters are so lucky, though! I look ridiculous, but you with those hips–you look like you actually know what you’re doing out there!”

What did I say to her? Something along the lines of: “Hahah..yeah….” as I grabbed my towel and water bottle and headed to the bathroom before the tears started to fall.

What didn’t I say to her? While any number of things would have been perfectly reasonable responses, Oreos do not speak up and make a fuss. Here’s a smattering of what the tiny sassy lady inside of me might have said were she not being squished into oblivion:

  • “Sisters? I’m an only child.”
  • “Yes, we are lucky. We just flip the switch and the machine in our rears does all the work.”
  • “You realize that I am at a gym and a typical ‘problem area’ for women is their bottom, so your attempt at a compliment might actually be reinforcing my own body dysmporphia.”
  • “I noticed you were terrible. But don’t worry, it’s not because you’re white. You’re just bad. Very very bad at this.”
  • “Thank you so much! By reducing my ability to dance to the amount of melanin I have in my skin, you’re completely ignoring the hours and hours I have spent in dance classes, working with teachers, studying movement, practicing in front of the mirror, consulting with professionals, watching footage of myself and others and working on the self confidence necessary to remove the mental blocks to free physical movement….I figured that stuff was a waste of time!!”
  • “Ummm… if you’re so bad at this, maybe you should keep your eyes on your own reflection, creeper.”
  • (sets self on fire)

Just think what a ruckus would have been made if I blurted out any of the things I was “actually” “thinking” or “feeling.” More than one relationship has been ruined this way and even though you may be choking back words, as an Oreo, you at least get to choke them down with some lovely creme fraiche.

What’s the last dubious compliment you got? What did or didn’t you say? Let us know in the comments!

For more awkward artsy (non)conversations, click here!

For more awkward conversations where people clearly didn’t notice I was…um…black (shudder).. click here!

For the awkward result of a poorly worded engagement party invitation, click here!

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!

5 Reasons Being a Straight White Male is NOT the Easiest Game Play Setting

May 18, 2012

The long skinny ones always look so simple, but they’ll getcha. They always do.

There’s an article floating around the Intertubes at moment explaining how being a straight, white male (SWM) is essentially playing a video game on the easiest setting. The only video game I ever play is Katamari, so I’ll let the author of the post explain himself, because I’ll just screw up the lexicon.

He starts the article thusly:

I’ve been thinking of a way to explain to straight white men how life works for them, without invoking the dreaded word “privilege,” to which they react like vampires being fed a garlic tart at high noon….So, the challenge: how to get across the ideas bound up in the word “privilege,” in a way that your average straight white man will get, without freaking out about it?

First of all…WOAH! Taking on complicated, nuanced societal topics. Ummm, the Internets are for funny cat videos and re-purposed pictures of Keanu Reeves, thank you very much. The ego of some people using a free, worldwide distribution system to be all blahblahmyopinions! Ugh.

He continues:

Dudes. Imagine life here in the US — or indeed, pretty much anywhere in the Western world — is a massive role playing game, like World of Warcraft except appallingly mundane, where most quests involve the acquisition of money, cell phones and donuts, although not always at the same time. Let’s call it The Real World. You have installed The Real World on your computer and are about to start playing, but first you go to the settings tab to bind your keys, fiddle with your defaults, and choose the difficulty setting for the game. Got it?

Okay: In the role playing game known as The Real World, “Straight White Male” is the lowest difficulty setting there is.

This means that the default behaviors for almost all the non-player characters in the game are easier on you than they would be otherwise. The default barriers for completions of quests are lower. Your leveling-up thresholds come more quickly. You automatically gain entry to some parts of the map that others have to work for. The game is easier to play, automatically, and when you need help, by default it’s easier to get.

Second of all…WOAH! This sounds insane. Why are video games so complicated?! That’s why I like my Katamari. You just push a ball around and pick stuff up with it.

Now, once you’ve selected the “Straight White Male” difficulty setting, you still have to create a character, and how many points you get to start — and how they are apportioned — will make a difference. Initially the computer will tell you how many points you get and how they are divided up. If you start with 25 points, and your dump stat is wealth, well, then you may be kind of screwed. If you start with 250 points and your dump stat is charisma, well, then you’re probably fine. Be aware the computer makes it difficult to start with more than 30 points; people on higher difficulty settings generally start with even fewer than that.

As the game progresses, your goal is to gain points, apportion them wisely, and level up. If you start with fewer points and fewer of them in critical stat categories, or choose poorly regarding the skills you decide to level up on, then the game will still be difficult for you.

Third of all…WOAH!! “dump stat”? Haha! That’s a hilarious sounding thing.*

Fourth of all..WOAH!! This is just wrong! Look, I do everything in my power to escape the cruel joke the universe played on my by injecting me with melanin and making me look like an RBP. But being white is totes tough!! I mean, just look at the very well-reasoned comments at the bottom of that article and you’ll see! Not being a minority comes with some serious baggage.

1. Sunscreen. You have to put that shit on like every time you go out in the sun. Every. Time.

I’ve had one sunburn in my life and yes, I was thrilled that I got to stick my toe in the waters of white life, but that thing stung like crazy! And so much aloe! I had to drop like $4 just to feel better.

I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that you can put this plant’s juice both on your skin and also in your mouth. Seems like it should be one or the other.

2. Boring interactions with authorities. Imagine this: You get pulled over by a police officer and s/he just asks for your license and registration. Or this: You walk into a high-end store and NO ONE follows you around making sure you don’t steal things (this happened to me at Ralph’s the other week..No offense Ralph’s, but if my RBP takes over and I decide to rip off a store, it’s not gonna be for some fennel and sourdough).

Or this: You’re a kid in school and when you act up, the teacher wonders if you have ADD, talks to your parents and comes up with an action plan and DOESN’T call you a thug.

Where’s the excitement in any of that? While yes, profiling is insulting, annoying and inaccurate, it does make your average minority’s life a touch more exciting. People do expensive things to chase adrenaline rushes all the time. Who needs skydiving when you can get a random gun in your face?

Of course, there’s always extreme ironing.
Yup. that’s a thing.

3. Dull, predictable hair care and beauty products. Sure, some white people have difficult hair, but you can generally go into any place that sells hair stuff and just buy it. You don’t get the action adventure of traveling to three separate places to find the right combination of products that allows you to actually reposition the hair on your head. And that sucks! We evolved from hunters and gatherers, we crave adventure and scarcity, we want to fight for what’s ours. And being brown forces you into hours-long pursuits to find stuff that works on your scalp and makeup that actually matches your skin.

Sigh. Oh, nude slash flesh-colored Band Aid…one day your name will be true for me. One day.

4. Not being able to get into college. One of the big comment trends in the above article is about how it’s harder to be white because thanks to Affirmative Action, poor, dumb brown kids are taking the place of deserving white kids at schools.

And that’s totally true. Because when I think of a college campus, I basically picture South Central. Nothing describes the look of a college campus more than “basically a still from The Wire” or “kind of like the set of a Spike Lee joint” or “wait, this is Harvard, I thought  it was Madea goes to Cambridge.”

I mean, goodness, look what Affirmative Action did to the White House.

Once the Ivy League. Now the Izivy Lizzeague.

5. The boring ol’ benefit of the doubt. When life is too predictable, with no bizarre threats to keep you on your toes,  complacency follows. Then depression and soon you’re writing passive aggressive blog posts and not living up to your potential. Just think how much more exciting it would be if you had odd systemic threats lurking around corners.

Like, you could be Florida’s George Zimmerman who tracked and killed an unarmed kid who was leaving you alone and then ONLY get arrested after everyone in the nation threatened to disappear your state. ORRRR you could be Florida’s Marissa Alexander who DIDN’T kill her terribly abusive ex-husband after he ran after her threatening her life and you could get 20 years in prison!!

C’mon!! Which makes a better facebook update: “still livin’ life, yo” or “holyfuckingfuck!! i’m going to be removed from my children’s life because I tried to protect them against a known abuser, thus making it more likely that since they’ll grown up without parents, they’re more likely to continue the cycle of violence that I was hoping to shield them from!!! hashtag HungerGames.”


Even with these burdens, I’m still committed to my Oreo lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy not having to worry about the angry angry sun and getting jobs that I’m not qualified for, but if one more person at Zumba says something to me like “You sisters are so lucky–you can do all those moves ‘cuz you’ve got natural booty,” I might go all Marissa Alexander on them.

And Bonus: Slavery totally had TONS of benes that only a certain segment of the population got to take part in. And to think, RBP have the nerve to white about the peculiar institution like it wasn’t kind of baller.

I’m starting with a quick review of the Oreo basics. Won’t you join me?

Not sure you’re using the term “Oreo” correctly? If you’re still reading, you probably are. But click here to double check.

Why go white? Lots of reasons!

Stuck talking to an RBP or someone who thinks you’re one? Remove yourself in 3 easy steps!

What do you think? Is there an easier gameplay setting? Wanna hang out and play some Katamari together? Let us know in the comments!

*Seriously, though, what’s a dump stat?

For Mor-eo! 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!

How to Write About Current Events

April 3, 2012

Remember these?

So it’s been almost two weeks since my last post. This is due in part to the fact that a pile of freelance (yay!) has fallen into my lap and is happily nibbling away at my writing time.

It’s also due in part to the fact that this has been the conversation between myself and my inner writer self over the last coupla weeks:

TheOreoExperience: Wow! This Kony video is nuts! It’s got White People to the Rescue written all over it! It would totally make a good Trailer Trashing post.

InnerWriterSelf: You’re right. Way to be on top of things. I can’t wait to see what we come up with!

TOE: Just let me finish this work. I’m sure I’ll get that post out by the end of the week

IWS: You’re amazing. I’m so glad we’re working together.


TOE: Holy crap, that dude just had a nervous breakdown!

IWS: Wellllll…. true. But you make fun of people all the time. And the Kony 2012 video is still weird.

TOE: Yeah, but dude is messed up. Even if I did have a post up, I’d probably want to take it down. Poor thing.

IWS: Actually…yeah…

TOE: I mean, child soldiers are pretty much 100% a bad thing…even if the guy bringing them to our attention is oddly narcissistic…he meant well.

IWS: Don’t worry, we’ll find something else to write about!

TOE: Is it weird that I talk to myself this way?

IWS: Of course not!

TOE: Woah! I can’t believe that woman said that to me after class. Ugh! I just want to come in here, Zumba a bit and leave without someone saying something like “So jealous of you sisters! You’ve got such great hips!”

IWS: Doesn’t she know how long it took us to be okay with those hips?!?

Whether they're on the mantle or your body, you come to appreciate hourglasses much more after high school.

TOE: Ugh. She has no idea. I’m exhausted tonight, though, and have like 3 scripts to get through. I’ll bang that post out in a few days.

IWS: Haha. You said “bang.”

TOE: Haha! Oh, get this…I totally made my coworker blush. He asked me if I had any food at my desk…

IWS: And you said “no, but I do have something you can eat!”

TOE: You know me so well!


IWS: Did you see this Trayvon Martin story?!?!

TOE: I can’t even think about it!!

IWS: C’mon, you HAVE to write about this. I mean, this is like your whole thing.

TOE: I can’t even read a story about it without bursting into tears. And I’m pretty sure there’s nothing funny about it.

IWS: The Daily Show managed to make it funny.

And sexy!

TOE: The Daily Show also has a staff of like two-dozen writers who out-earn me by a factor of probably 20!

IWS: Are we fighting right now?

TOE: No, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

IWS: I don’t believe you. You seem upset.

TOE: I just feel like sometimes you aren’t hearing what I’m saying. I DO want to write about this story, but it’s fucking sad as balls.

IWS: Haha, you said–

TOE: Not the time.

IWS: You’re right.

TOE: Let’s just move on. What are you doing this weekend?

IWS: I dunno. Wanna check out Hunger games?

Kinda worried that there are going to be way too many Mockingjay tattoos showing up in the next few years.

TOE: You know what, I still have a ton of work to get  through, maybe next week?

IWS: I liked the book!

TOE: Me, too! Kinda bummed that even with so much going on in the book and such a great story, they still felt the need to inject some semblance of a love story into the end.

IWS: Yeah, I hear that. So…we’re cool?

TOE: Yeah, totally. Talk tomorrow.

IWS: Wake up! Wake up! Did you see this?? Racist Hunger Games tweets, we HAVE to get on that!

TOE: Holy god, it’s so early! Don’t you sleep.

IWS: I’m a disembodied manifestation of your sense of self, of course I don’t sleep.

TOE: Fair enough. Oh geez! These tweets are nuts! And what the eff? Rue is totally described as being black in the book. Did they just miss that?

IWS: Dude! Why are you not writing like crazy right now?

TOE: I don’t even know what to say!

IWS: C’mooooooon! Do it!!

TOE: Wait, let me get this straight… You want me to make an hilarious observation about how teens can’t read and how they don’t seem to know how the Internet works and that we’ve lost the basic sense of etiquette that we’re taught when we’re kids to not say horrible mean things out loud…and maybe draw an equally knee-slapping parallel between the fact that people didn’t like Rue because she was black and the fact that a good chunk of the country is totally unsympathetic to the needless death of an unarmed kid? That’s what you want me to pull out of my ass right now?? I’m a writer, not a magician!

IWS: It was just a suggestion.

TOE: Oooh, there might be something in this Geraldo non-pology, though. Yeah, between that and the Belvedere ad and Lee Arohnson… I think I might have something.

IWS: I knew you could do it.

TOE: Also, I’m kinda getting tired of the “let me tell annoying politicians about my vagina” meme. Does that make me a bad feminist?

IWS: That’s a whole other part of your subconscious you’ve got to deal with for that one.

TOE’sInnerFeminist: Did someone call?

TOE: Coffee first, then self-analysis.

TOEIF: That’s fair. Btw… I have a story that would make a GREAT screenplay! Can I tell you about it??

IWS: Yikes!… Um… coffee first.


Talking to yourself doesn’t make you crazy, right? Right?? I blame the habit on the fact that I was an only child.

Fingers crossed, I’ll get to this Geraldo/Belvedere/2.5 Men thing this week

What internal struggles do you find yourself chatting with you about on the regular? Let us know in the comments.

For Mor-eo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
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And new!!  Click here for a great writing deal from TOE and tell your friends!
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Merry Holiday Greetings Seasons New Year!

December 23, 2011

Growing up, we didn’t have a ton of holiday traditions. There was a  tree and there were gifts and there was food, but nothing that was uniquely us. The only thing that came close was the yearly viewing of “Amahl and the Night Visitors.”

I was maybe 10 or so when my mom first pitched the idea of watching that movie to me. When she said what the plans were for the evening, I heard that we’d be watching something called  “A Mall and the Night Visitors” and wondered what the f was so great about a story about some people who went shopping at night? I mean, kids trapped in a library, sure! (Thank you, Miss Frankweiler!)  But what my mom was suggesting sounded ridiculous.

After she got done being offended by the wildly disgusted look on my face and realized the misunderstanding, she explained to me that AatNV was, in fact, an operetta about a little crippled boy who is visited by the Three Wise Men on their way to find Jesus.

She had me at “operetta.”

And now I’m wondering if “crippled” is a not-okay word to use these days.

Anyhoo, not only is it a fantastic little film, it’s also how I learned to sing opera. So I got two gifts that year. One, a movie to treasure always. And two, the assurance that I would never be burdened with popularity.

Please enjoy this clip from it.

What are your favorite (or least favorite) holiday traditions? Let us know in the comments!

And from me, my ugly sweater and two teddy bears getting it on to all of you: Have an amazing amazing holiday time–whatever you’re celebrating or not celebrating. However 2011 was for you, here’s to 2012 being even better! Thank you so so much for all your readings and commentings. I truly appreciate it and look forward to seeing everyone in the new year!!


For Mor-eo Oreo: Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
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And subscribe on youtube! (Don’t forget to check out the new holiday classic “White (on the inside) Christmas”)
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It’s That Time of Year…

December 7, 2011

…when it’s around 60 degrees in Los Angeles, gyms are crowded full of people trying to earn their upcoming holiday dinner, credit cards are getting maxed out and families everywhere are coming up with coping tactics for awkward, yet obligatory meals.

Ahhh, Christmas.

Time to plan that caroling party to sing some old favorites…or learn new ones  (Like this one!)

What are your favorite holiday songs and traditions? Let us know in the comments!


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Between the Lines – Some Translations of Common Conversations

December 1, 2011

There are a few things that will cause me to bolt out of bed in the morning: My recurring nightmare where I’m swimming through a swamp full of snakes, the momentary

And yes, my bed always has pristinely white sheets and drinks with twigs in them. Doesn't yours?

belief that I’ve missed my alarm and I’m two hours late for work, the sound of one of my cats yakking up her lungs onto the floor I just cleaned for the umpteenth time this week, the realization that this isn’t my bed and maybe I shouldn’t have had so much to drink at that networking event/conference/family reunion or a surprise email from a super wonderful character actor who happens to have been on one of my most favorite shows evereverevah!

This morning, I escaped #s 1-4 and was beyond delighted to get to experience #5. It was amazing. He spelled my name right, didn’t say I was stupid for emailing and while he didn’t offer to fly me to the country where he’s located, he did say that if for some reason I turned up there, we could meet in person.

Here’s my response to him. Actual text is in blue; What I felt like saying is slanty.

Hey there! Holy.Shit!!!

Thanks for writing back, it was great to hear from you! I literally just shit the bed. My roommates are wondering why I’m screaming and I’m so excited that I’ve barely noticed that my cats have thrown up right on my face. I’m so overstimulated in fact, that I’m not positive I’m not having a stroke.

Congrats on the new project. Sounds like a lot of fun! Look, I hope this isn’t presumptive of me, but how do you feel about winter weddings? 

I’ll definitely let you know if I’m on your side of the pond. I can in no way afford to up and head to the UK right now, but I will sell my blood, these cats and maybe my roommates’ blood and cats if that’s what it takes to end up in your amazing amazing arms.

Best, I love you more than words, paintings or angels could possibly express.

And it doesn’t stop there! My soul must have an awesome 6-pack from the effort I spend muscling the crazy back inside where it belongs. Here’s a rundown of a typical day and the reason I’m always so exhausted by 7 p.m.

Yes. We be crazy.

6:45 a.m. (my bedroom)

Cats: Meow

Me: Hi Bobbie, Hi Marilyn. Look, I’m really really sorry that I don’t spend $20 a bag on good food, but c’mon, you eat your own throw up and the other day when I cut my foot and bled all over the floor, you ate that, too so you can’t be that picky!! But maybe the fact that this bag of food that feeds you for a month only cost $4 is the reason you have that bump on your belly ohmygodI’msosososorry!!!!

Cats: Meow

Me: Yes, I’ll feed you in a minute, babiesAfter I get done castigating myself in the shower for being such a terrible mother! *sobs…internally*

9:15 a.m. (office)

Boss: What are you working on today?

Me: I’m gonna update these schedules this morning and am in meetings all afternoon. But I will lick your office clean if that will ensure that you don’t regret hiring me.

12:30 p.m. (my office)

Friend: Wanna go to lunch?

Me: Sure! I’m your ninth choice for lunch company and you’re only doing this because you pity me, right?

4:23 p.m. (my office)

Coworker: Do you know what room the task force meeting is in?

Me: 552. I’m smelly, aren’t I?

7:00 p.m. (Trader Joes)

Cashier: Did you find everything you needed?

Me: Yup! Please love me.

9:56 p.m. (bed)

Cats: Meow.

Me: Fie! Take thy claws from out my heart and take thy form from off my door!

Cats: Nevermore…Meow.


Surely I’m not the only one riding this close to the tipping point of reason. What goes on in your head that should definitely stay there? Let it out and tell us about it in the comments!


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DOs and DON’Ts For Throwing a Blackface Party

November 16, 2011

Pretty much every year, a group of college students decides it’ll be a swell idea to host a party where people dress up like minorities by, among other things, donning some good ol’ fashioned blackface and sometimes a grill or two.

Just a reminder that these people were all making active choices.

Just today, we learned that sorority sisters at The University of Southern Mississippi were put on probation after they decided to dress up like the Huxtables. (Argyle and wigs were not enough, natch, they had to go whole hog).

Earlier this year, students at Université de Montréal donned blackface for a presentation in their business class.

C’est manifique, messieurs!

Last year, students at the University of California, San Diego hosted a “Compton Cookout.” The invitation to that party went a little something like this:

“February marks a very important month in American society. No, i’m not referring to Valentines day or Presidents day. I’m talking about Black History month. As a time to celebrate and in hopes of showing respect, the Regents community cordially invites you to its very first Compton Cookout.

For guys: I expect all males to be rockin Jersey’s, stuntin’ up in ya White T (XXXL smallest size acceptable), anything FUBU, Ecko, Rockawear, High/low top Jordans or Dunks, Chains, Jorts, stunner shades, 59 50 hats, Tats, etc.

For girls: For those of you who are unfamiliar with ghetto chicks-Ghetto chicks usually have gold teeth, start fights and drama, and wear cheap clothes – they consider Baby Phat to be high class and expensive couture. They also have short, nappy hair, and usually wear cheap weave, usually in bad colors, such as purple or bright red. They look and act similar to Shenaynay, and speak very loudly, while rolling their neck, and waving their finger in your face. Ghetto chicks have a very limited vocabulary, and attempt to make up for it, by forming new words, such as “constipulated”, or simply cursing persistently, or using other types of vulgarities, and making noises, such as “hmmg!”, or smacking their lips, and making other angry noises,grunts, and faces. The objective is for all you lovely ladies to look, act, and essentially take on these “respectable” qualities throughout the day.

A few years ago, word got out that students at Tarleton State University, University of Connecticut School of Law, Clemson University and the University of Arizona all threw ghetto parties on Martin Luther King Day.

Happy MLK Day, everyone!

It seems that like prostitution and casual drug use, these peccadilloes are here to stay. So instead of trying to legislate morality into students, maybe we should take a cue from the Libertarians and give everyone some guidelines on how to party like it’s 1849 without risk of disciplinary action. It’s like learning how to have safe sex…assuming that by “sex,” we mean “really terrible party ideas that the future leaders of our country maybe shouldn’t be coming up with.”

So here are some Dos and Don’ts for your next ghettotastic shindig.

  • DON’T:  have a blackface party at a school with a black dean. I’m looking at you Mississippi!
  • DO: Keep a tight grip on the invite list. Some people are really sensitive and will report your party to school officials because they’re too busy not taking that stick out of their ass. So don’t let word get around that you’re hosting.
  • DON’T: Post pictures on facebook, Twitter, tumblr…actually, don’t take any pictures at all. Remember that person with the stick where the sun don’t shine? Well those same humorless aholes will likely send those pictures to someone who has the ability to make your life more difficult. So take the higher road and don’t give them the ammunition they need.
  • DO: not ask yourself why this is the theme you chose for your party in the first place. You have way too much to do to spend time thinking about your decisions may affect other people. Besides, don’t they see how ridiculously clever and ironic you are!  Ugh! They’ve probably never heard of Middling Banana Sunshine Patrol either and MDSP is like the best thing to happen to house music since…you know what, never mind, you have to be really in the scene to even get what they’re doing.
  • DON’T: make friends with ever. They will straight leave your ass (and maybe cut you) when they see the one picture you couldn’t help but take. They may also report you to the dean. Oreos are probably pretty safe as they won’t bother showing you the silent tears they’re crying on the inside.
  • DO: remember to wash off the shoe polish before class in the morning! Showing up with those streaks on your face will be as awkward as it was waking up to that person in your bed who was soooo not cute now that you’re sober. Ick!!
  • DON’T: bother maybe doing a quick Google search to see why blackface is so fucking offensive, it’ll just bring down the mood of the room – total party foul!

Happy Partying!!!

What other tips do have for getting away with pretty offensive behavior? What do you think of these parties? Have you ever been? When’s your next one? Can I come? Let us know in the comments!


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How to Take a Compliment

October 6, 2011

Yesterday at Zumba, I ended up chatting with a girl before class. It was her first time and she was excited, but nervous about not being able to keep up. I told her it was super fun and would be totally fine.

I mean, look at it! How can that not be fun!! Oh, because it's in public and people can judge you? Okay, there is that.

I understood her concern. I was, myself, initially worried about taking Zumba. One one hand, it’s a great, fun way to exercise. On the other, it’s dancing and it’s trendy, so the risk is having to do something hip-hoppy is always there. But when the moves lean a little to far toward popping or locking, I feign confusion, pull out something from swing dancing and generally feel much better.

Yesterday, however, something happened that always sends shivvers down my spine. Something that makes me want to run away and hide. Something that brings a quivver to my lip and a tear to my eye. The girl complimented me.

“That was fun!” she said. “And you look great out there, you really know what you’re doing.”

Oh crap.

Like everyone else on the cusps of Gens X and Y, who chose the arts as a profession and whose parents had more than a few unrealized dreams, I am pretty sure that everything I touch turns to poo. Like I”m always wearing the Emperor’s New Clothes. I can’t help it. Thinking of myself in glowing terms feels as off as thinking of myself as a dude. It’s not that I don’t enjoy life and things, I’m just a writer. We’re always kind of melancholy.

Plus, I never know how to respond to compliments. Be in agreement with the person talking to you and you’re an arrogant ass. Blow off what they say and you’re ungrateful and rude. It’s like hugging a tall person. Do you go up around their neck like you’re a child or a baby monkey? Or do you hug them around their waist like you’re their lover.

Or high-fiving?!? Geez! Could there be a more awkward social interaction? I think I’d rather make out with a stranger than high-five them. I mean, in the H5, how hard do you hit, how hard do you receive? How do you know they’re going for a high-five and not just swatting a bug out of the air?

Look at that! It's so vague. That could mean "I'm here," or "Stop!" or "Taxi!" or "Throw it to me." How are you supposed to know??

Pretty much all of those thoughts went through my head after class and my new friend probably wondered why I was staring quite so hard into the middle distance when all she tried to do was be nice to me.

Here’s what I can ascertain is the proper procedure for receiving a compliment. What do you think?

Step 1: Do something to the best of your ability while telling yourself that even though you’re doing it all all wrong, you’re a better person for tackling the intellectual exercise of doing something that makes you want to crap your pants.

Step 2: Try to escape the location as quickly as possible without making eye contact with any person, place or thing. But, when someone inevitably stops you and tells you they enjoyed whatever you internally sobbed your way through…

Step 3: Say “thank you,” but assume that any of the following is more likely than that person meaning whatever they just told you.

  • An alien has temporarily possessed your body and has abilities far beyond yours. This alien will leave your body soon and people will continue to expect great things of you, that because you are alien-less, you will be unable to perform.
  • An alien has temporarily possessed the body of your complimentor and has tastes and expectations that are far below the average human. This alien will soon leave your complimentor’s body and that person, because they are alien-less, will forever wonder why the hell you keep chatting to them on facebook.
  • The person is drunk and high, or otherwise addled and has no idea what they’re saying.
  • The person is saying something nice because you were so terrifically terrifying that they’re worried that if they don’t say something nice, you’ll kill everyone.
  • The person meant to be complimenting someone else.
  • The person IS complimenting someone else, but you are so delusional that you think they’re talking to you.
  • The person actually only asked you what time it was.
  • The person actually did mean to compliment you, but you are suddenly stinkier than any person has ever been ever and they regret the moment they came within fifty yards of you.
  • You are in the middle of a waking dream.

Pretty standard checklist, right?


To see more journeys through dance, check out these links…

I started here, freaking out in the castle with WhitePal. That’s right. I said “castle”….Then, I got back into the swing of things…took a chance at real dance in this video…and developed a handy survival guide  in case Zumba is canceled and another dance class takes its place.


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!


October 3, 2011

Every once in a while, there will be a dilemma in the Oreo lifestyle. That’s right, two lemmas. The n-word in hip hop songs creates two of those said lemmas.

Close enough.

On one hand, any self-respecting Oreo knows zero lyrics to any hip hop song. On the other hand, sometimes, you’ll have the misfortune of knowing what the words are because you are, say at karaoke. When that happens, you’ll sometimes have to choose whether to say or not say the “n-word.”

This brings us to two more lemmas..(lemmae?).

Again. Close enough.

On one hand, the n-word is a horrible, offensive, painful piece of slang that no one should ever say ever.

On the other hand (Yup, I’m quadri-dextrous), no self-respecting Oreo would say the above. It implies that you have a connection to race and thus the sting associated with the speaking, singing or rapping of that word.

So, if you do find yourself having to say the n-word in song, you’ll need to have options. Karaoke is fun, and I’ll admit that even I know all the words to Baby Got Back and Shoop. While neither of those songs uses the word in question to get their very salient points across, it does go to show that anyone can be caught in the middle of some hip hop.

Here are some alternative words that to drop like they’re hot in the middle of a song like Golddigger**:

  • Nibbler
  • Knickerbocker
  • Snicker
  • Nietzsche
  • Nicknack
  • Ninja
  • Knitter
  • Nagging
  • Nephew
  • Narwhal (why doesn’t this word end in an “e”)
  • Mitzvah
  • Nahum (sorry, book of the bible)
  • Nancy
  • Nanpie (they’re black, too)
  • Nacho
  • Nabob (but not the National Association of Black Owned Broadcasters)
  • Narnya (like Narnia, but with two syllables…golly, Lazy Sunday was a great song)
  • Nietzsche
Insert one of the above and wait for the unoffended applause!
I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke ninja
I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke Nietzsche
I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke Nanpie

See, they all work perfectly!! Perfectly.

Hope this helps with the hip hop hurdles! With this list, you should be able to conquer all lyrical lemmas in record time.

Close enough. A third time.

For more fun with the n-word:
Read how a game of Scattergories turned all Oreo in that hizzy!
Find out whether or not Huck Finn should have gone unaltered!
And check out this how-to guide on navigating the n-word!
What’s your favorite slang for slang? Let us know in the comments!
And For Mor-eo Oreo: Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!

**(True story about Golddigger…this conversation did happen when that song came out.

OreoExperience: This is awful of me to say, but I actually kind of like that song Golddigger.

WhitePal: Yeah, I like that the radio censors it like that.

OE: What do you mean?

WP: You know, when they go ‘…but she ain’t messin’ with no broke, broke…’

OE: Yeah?

WP: Well, they censored it there.

OE: I don’t get it.

WP: How is that possible?

OE: What could they be censor…ooooohhhhhh! I thought they were being poetic and turning the word “broke” into both an adjective and a noun. That’s why I liked the song…. Why are you walking away??)


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