Posts Tagged ‘satire’

h1

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.

***************************

For Mor-eo Oreo:
Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!

h1

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

***************************

For Mor-eo Oreo:
Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!

h1

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)

 

 

***************************

For Mor-eo Oreo:
Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!

h1

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!

***************************
For Mor-eo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebookWatch fun Oreo videos on youtube!
h1

A Smattering of Things I Should or Should Not Have Been Thinking During My First Couple’s Massage

August 21, 2012

The first time someone said to me: “Hey, have you tried one of those Chinese foot massage places,” my first response was “of course not because I don’t hire prostitutes.”

For some reason, when you put a culture name in front of a verb, it takes on a whole new meaning.

“Dancing” = okay, sure that sounds fine.
“Latin Dancing” = now I’m hot and bothered. And there’s a rose in my mouth.
(source)

But Chinese Foot Massage is about a billion times better than any prostitute could ever be. Unless that prosti threw in a CFM during whatever else s/he’s doing.

Here’s how it works: You sit in a room full of a dozen or so very large, very comfy recliners. Your pants legs are rolled up and your feet are dropped into a bucket of scalding hot water. You kind of want to scream, but you don’t want to look like a pussy about it. I mean, if that 80-lb Mandarin octogenarian next to you can handle it, so can you.

And you can.

After a few seconds, the herbs or magic or chlorine or whatever is in that water takes over and it just feels goooood.

While your toes are soaking, the nice masseuse starts the rub down. They rub your head, your face, your neck, your arms and your shoulders before pulling your feet out and starting up. They spend a lot of time down there and they must be doing something right because you start feeling like you really need to fart, but you don’t want to be a jerk about it.

Then you realize if that 80-lb Mandarin octogenarian next to you can let one slip, then you can too. So you wait for them to leave to get a towel and you do.

They come back, dry off your legs, turn you over and rub you down top to bottom again. And if you’re me, when they get to your bottom, there’s a tittering of Sino-Tibetan language and then some laughter. And that’s okay because it just feels so dang amazing.

The whole thing lasts just over and hour and costs $15.

Yes. $15. Let’s hear it for folks having been indoctrinated in factories.

I took my Lovely to my favorite local CFM place this weekend and noticed for the first time that among the recliners, there was also this curtained room.

“What happens in there?” I asked the host.

“Prostitutes,” I kinda wanted him to say for good measure. But he didn’t. Not even to humor me. Instead he said “oh, we focus more on your back and neck than the feet.”

I’d never gotten a massage behind a curtain and I had just finished a couple Irish Mules, so I thought this was a great idea. Lovely didn’t argue. So behind the curtain we went.

“Okay, take off your clothes,” the host said. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

Mind you, just on the other side of this thin sheet of linen were people. Strangers. Regular folk who were just there to get their feet rubbed and who had no idea that nude little me was going to be running around 2 feet from them.

You never know what’s behind the screen. It could be me.
Or Pauly D.
Either way, my apologies.
(source)

But I had just had a couple of Irish Mules, so I thought that was fine.

We disrobed, in walked a dude and a girl and they went to work. And so did my brain. I know that you’re supposed to “relax” during a massage or at some point in your life. But that’s just not how I do. Instead, I do like this:

  • Not sure how I feel about the heart-shaped face hole on this table. What if I had come here with a girlfriend?
  • Oh, good, I get a girl masseur and he gets a guy one.
  • Not that I’d be upset if he got a girl one. I’m not the jealous type.
  • Am I the jealous type?
  • Oh wow, she just climbed right on my back. That’s fine.
  • I wonder if that guy is standing on Lovely’s back?
  • Is it wrong that I don’t get jealous?
  • How much am I going to tip?
  • Why can’t I get the timer on my AC to work?
  • Maybe my cats will be fine if I don’t leave the AC on.
  • Why am I trying to kill my cats??
  • I wonder if my cats and his dog will get along.
  • I should really write something about the election.
  • Probably just gonna blog about this massage instead.
  • Is she still kneeling on my hamstrings?
  • And oh, is she stretching my Achilles’s tendon with her toes??
  • She has really dextrous toes.
  • Is he stretching Lovely’s Achilles’s tendon with his toes?
  • Does that make me jealous?
  • No really, I should write about the election. It’s nuts out there. “Legitimate rape, wtf?!”
  • Eh, a list piece’ll be fine.
  • Should I have booked a hotel in London by now?
  • I’m sure I’ll find something.
  • If I don’t find something, will I have to stay at a hostel?
  • If I stay at a hostel will I be robbed?
  • Oddly enough, Hostel 2 had a decent plot and really beautiful set design.
  • Why the eff did I watch Hostel 2??
  • I think I know someone who watched The Human Centipede. I’m at least doing better than whoever that was.
  • He and I are both nudey on these tables. Should I be feeling sexy right now?
  • Because wanting to fart is not sexy.
  • I think if I felt sexy right now, this would be come prostitutey.
  • Kinda wish I couldn’t feel her breathing on my face. Really like having my face touched though.
  • I love living by the Oreo code, but seriously, why are there never any ethnics here?
  • …I mean apart from all the Chinese people who work here.
  • Do other ethnic people just hate luxurious comfort?
  • Awww, Is he snoring?
  • Holy shit, I just thought snoring was cute. I’m in trouble!
  • I wish there was a way to sleep and also make out at the same time.
  • They could totally hack off my arms and legs right now and thanks to this warm towel on my face I’d have no idea it was coming.
  • I wonder if that would make it hurt less or more.
  • Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be thinking about getting hacked to bits during a massage.
  • …Or speaking to yourself in the third person.
  • No, c’mon, I can totally use this time to come up with some really cool, pithy piece about this ridiculous election.
  • Or just come up with a coupla jokes about prostitutes and call it a day.
  • Is it problematic that a couple of the songs I most like to belt were sung by prostitutes?
  • Probably no less problematic that the role I most want to play is a man’s role.
  • I wonder what else she does with her toes.

Spoiler alert: I was the only one of us who got climbed up on and toe’d.

I hope he’s jealous.

***************************

Is there CFM where you live? How do you not spend 100% of your time there if there is? If there’s not, how do you relax?

Let us know in the comments!

***************************
For Mor-eo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!

Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!

h1

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!

***************************
For Mor-eo Oreo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
h1

Diary of a Mad White Black Woman: Name Changing

August 1, 2012

Dear Diary,

I’m sure you’ve read the news (being the sentient bundle of pages that you are) that the rapper formerly known as Snoop Dogg (sic) will now be going by the name Snoop Lion.

Sigh.

I guess it’s neat that he is both a cat and a dogg person.

I understand the temptation to change your name. Not only did I go by “Arden Rochelle,” “Diana,” “Allison” and “Sable” at various points during junior and high school, (Apologies Mrs. Livsey, Mr. Young, Mrs. Koepsel for making you indulge me), but I’ve also done it the legal way and not just the ‘surely-this-will-alleviate-some-of-my-unpopularity-oh-what-it-doesn’t-piss-it” route as well.

But Snoop’s decision reminds me of just one more reason why I can’t get on board with RBP music. Nothing wrong with choosing a nom de plume, just make sure that it makes sense.

Snoops aren’t even the best kind of dog.

Rhodesian Ridgebacks are.

Nor are they any kind of lion.

Just for “fun” I decided to enter the dark world of rap for one terrifying moment (Don’t worry, I brought safety equipment: pepper spray, Olympic dressage pass, Quiche) and looked up what my rapper names might be. Suggestions included:

  • A Velvet
  • A Butter Love
  • Serious Mystique
  • Bootie A Cakes
  • A Blunt
  • A Missy A
  • W Tang (which I’m pretty sure is taken)

These names make no sense. And neither do others Flo-Rida is not a name, it’s a state that everyone forgets is Southern. Method Man sounds like the documentary that accompanies the DVD about how Dustin Hoffman gets into character. And Mike Jones is someone I once auditioned against for All-State band.

Oreo me just can’t help it. I like the good, solid names of people who make good, solid music: Wolfgang, Dick Hyman, Dweezil.

Also, thanks to a typo I just made, I realized: you can’t spell rape without “rap.” I’m not saying that correlation equals causation but whatever, words don’t lie. Unless they’re told by a liar.

***************

What do you think of Snoop’s decision to dive into Reggae?

What other names do you go by? Why are you trying to hide from yourself (not that I oppose, just curious).

Let us know in the comments!

***************************
For Mor-eo Oreo! Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube! Including this new one!
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
h1

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.
(source)

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)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
h1

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)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
h1

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.
(source)

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.
(source)

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.
(source)

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.
(source)

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.
(source)

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.”

#noonelikesaboringhashtag

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)
Like us on facebook!
Watch fun Oreo videos on youtube!
Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,278 other followers