Month: July 2010

Don’t Stalk an RBP, Stalk an Oreo Instead!

Today, Joel Johnson of Gizmodo confessed that he’s started following a “sexy black woman” on Twitter because though minorities are in the majority on the site, he had no friends of color there. So he picked one at random and became fascinated by what he found.

I really wish he had consulted me first.

See, Joel writes about the contradictions he found his Twitter pal and how that was confusing for him.

She’s a Christian, but isn’t afraid of sex. She seems to have some problems trusting men, but she’s not afraid of them, either.

Yikes.

See what happens when you start befriending someone who isn’t trying to fit into a very particular mold? It causes all kinds of questions and confusion. If only had had started with someone like me (twitter.com/oreoexperience). He could have had the benefits of diversity, without the headache of having to embrace someone all that different from him. See,  part of being an Oreo is not making waves, not rocking the boat and keeping everyone comfortable. Is he had picked me (twitter.com/oreoexperience), Joel could proudly sport his new (and I’m gonna go ahead and say sexy) Oreo friend and saved his fingers the key strokes it took to ponder what it means to be a layered individual.

Are black Christians more open about their sexuality? Young people? Northern people?

Yes. Yes. On Tuesdays.

There, questions answered. Boxes restructured.

Other than the computer-savvy, here are some other folks who are particularly attracted to Oreos.

And if you’re trying to attract an Oreo, here’s some advice on how to do it.

Who are your favorite folks to follow on Twitter? Are you surprised by them? Have you ever followed someone totally at random? How’d that go for you?

Necessary Risk – LeBron

It goes without saying that as an Oreo, I distance myself as far as possible from anything remotely of color.

I do feel guilty about my growing crush on Isaiah Mustafa, the Old Spice guy. I mean, first of all, he is black, so that’s strike one. Two, he was a football player–sooooo ethnic! And three, his name is like super ethnic. You’ve got “Isaiah” which just screams southern Baptist. And “Mustafa” is straight out of the Africa-based Lion King. *sigh*

I’m seeing someone about the IM issue.

But, sometimes, in order to exist in polite company, an Oreo has to dabble in things ethnic. Usually, you get Oreo points for not knowing anything about anything Kanye West has ever said or not being sure that a sporting event has taken place…unless it’s the All Whites playing.

However, sometimes, an event is so dumb big that you have to say at least something on the topic or you look less Oreo and more way too out of touch. So, thank you LeBron for forcing me to deal with the double ethnic blow of you and basketball.

I mean, look at him. He probably plays basketball, too, right?

Oooh! Do I get some of my points back for thinking that whenever someone said “Dwyane Wade” I didn’t know they were talking about one leg of a power triangle and instead thought they were mispronouncing Dwyane Wayne from A Different World? Sure, it was an ethnic show, but it proves that I’m clearly not up on ethnic culture today.

Oh, and here’s LeBron.

And Isaiah…call me.

(Video is mildly NSFW for language…and also NSFO for ethnicity)

What do you think of King James? His move? A Different World?

The Oreo Experience – Live Tonight 9 p.m. PST

Join The Oreo Experience on The Film Method with Cindy Freeman!

Yes, Oreo Barbie will be listening, too

Listen live tonight by clicking here:  http://www.blogtalkradio.com/film-method

Up for discussion:

  • What exactly is an Oreo experience
  • How to maintain the Oreo lifestyle
  • Oreo Origin stories
  • How to avoid being an RBP

And lots more!

You can listen live, call in or join the online chat.

Hope to see you there!!

Former ‘Black’ Sport Now Oreo Haven

There was a time when the lauded black athlete was skinny, short, jaunty and not nearly as scary as a basketball player with a grip of guns in a locker room. There was a time when the worst a blacklete could do to you was kick you in the shins and not kill you then make a terrifying reality show post acquittal. When the abused animals in their care weighed 1500 racing pounds instead of 80 fighting ones.

I’m talking about black jockeys.

Between about 1865 and 1900, of color riders dominated the sport. Going to see a race was like watching the NBA finals and black jockeys set impressive records.

Luckily, their legacy was preserved and distilled into a piece of sculpture that you can still sometimes find today. The lawn jockey.

While many lawn jockeys are now painted white, the history of the statue remains in tact.

This makes equestrian events a perfect choice for Oreos. Not only are few to no black riders of note on the circuit, but putting that jaunty outfit will give you the perfect chance to make an on-color joke and assuage the minds of those around you. Because if you can’t laugh at history, what can you do with it?

Looking for other jobs that are good for Oreos? How about shilling for classic American institutions!

See how The Oreo Experience responds to other animals.

or

Check out how horses can help you hook up with an Oreo.

International Need for Oreos

I dug up some journal entries from my trip abroad. Here is one of them.

Dateline: Amsterdam. Even among the pastoral tulip fields and gently twirling windmills, it was impossible to escape the sting of my ethnicity.

I spent some time traveling with a friend to a few cities and here was the conversation I overheard while

I ate my feelings that day. And they were delicious!

waiting on line for dutch pancakes.

Friend: Pardon. Zit hier iemand?

Local: No, the seat’s free.

Friend: Oh, you speak English.

Local: Yeah. Where are you from?

Friend: The states. Los Angeles.

Local: Oh, I hear it’s dangerous there.

Friend: Can be.

Local: Because of the blacks?*

A moment later, I sat down in front of my friend and my new Dutch buddy with a plate of piping hot pannenkoeken. Now, had I not been a practiced Oreo, I would have wanted to pour those piping hot pannenkoeken down the front of my new buddy’s shirt. But, being the Oreo that I am, I supported his point.

Me: Well, you just have to pay attention to where you are. If you come visit, you’ll see. That’s why I moved to Hancock Park.

I could have made him feel suuuper uncomfortable. But instead, I fostered international relations with the right conversation and my appreciation of perfectly pressed pancakes.

*It’s been suggested that I’m making up some of these stories. But no. Really. I’m not.

For other uncomfortable moments I didn’t make up. Check out these posts on phone etiquette, getting out of a parking ticket and talking to kids.

OreoFAIL…or WIN?

Also white on the inside

I did a very un-Oreo thing last night and attended a screening put on by a group of black writers. Yup. Me, in a room with a couple dozen other of colors watching a movie about the Harlem Renaissance.

Yikes.

To my credit, however, I did have this conversation before the film started…

Him: Are you gonna have some of that chicken?

Me: No.

Him: Oh, what are you, a vegan?

Me: No, I just don’t like spicy things…or wings. The wings just aren’t my favorite part of the bird. I am really excited about this gouda, though!

Him: What’s gouda?

BUT, before I cleansed my palate with some imported Dutch cheese, I totally realized…we DO all look alike!

Going into the Writers Guild building, all I knew is that a group of black writers–some of whom I’d met before–was going to be screening this film.

I walked in the building and hung my head in just a bit of shame when the security guard said “Oh, are you here for the screening?”

He showed me to the elevator and I headed up stairs. I got of the lift and looked around for where my event might be. I found a room full of colors who looked familiar enough, I mean there were folks with twists like the last time I met this group…  I walked inside and sat down. They continued their conversation around me…a conversation that I quickly found out was NOT about the screening I was meant to be attending.

After a few awkward beats, I grabbed my new pashmina (thanks, Casey!) and slunk out of the room…found another gaggle of of colors, had the aforementioned chicken/cheese convo and sat down for the film.

On one hand, I felt like such a non-color, I mean, they was a group of RBP. They must have been who I was looking for, right? How was I to know that there might be two groups of RBP gathered for two totally different purposes in the same place without authorities being alerted.

But on the other hand, I felt like a real RBP…after all, I was seen in the vicinity of almost 50 other of colors. And I hardly had time to sound any of my Oreo distress calls. The gouda thing was helpful, but I did just finish rereading Fear of Flying and am setting up an appointment with a new riding instructor. The movie started before I could spit out those gems. Plus, I couldn’t even blush when I realized my mistake in the first room.

What do you think? Was my night made of fail or win?

Also, when you do discover you’re in the wrong meeting…how do you sneak out. I thought about making light of the sitch and skipping away. But instead, I pretended like I had to go to the bathroom…with my wrap…and my purse…and my notebook…and my bottled water.

None of us are perfect. See other Oreofails here: musicvideofail, whatareyouseeingthisweekendfail and evenharvardprofsfailfail.