Month: October 2011

Sexy Halloween Costume from The Help

It’s Halloween! And if you’re a girl, you better figure out how to put your primary sexual characteristics on display post-haste!! But what do you do when you want to be sexy and poignant? Check out this video for a great costume suggestion!

PS…The sexy costumes are really getting out of hand. I saw Sexy Watermelon the other day.

This isn't even a dress! It looks like a towel that's been through the dryer one too many times.

What are you dressing up as this Halloween? Let us know in the comments!!

For more lessons from The Help, click here for a White People to the Rescue movie primer!

Here are some tips on how to dress as an Oreo on the regular.

And in honor of Halloween, here’s a video about ghosts!

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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
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Dumb Things Black Women are Doing Instead of Getting Married

For the last couple of months dozens and dozens of columnists, bloggers and sociologists have been reacting to the horrible, shocking news that black women are making it into their 30s WITHOUT BEING MARRIED!!!

These people have spent hundreds of column inches and hour and hours of readers’ time wondering how this travesty of gendering could possibly have happened. While it’s true that  “people” aren’t getting married as much as “people” used to, it is especially upsetting that black ladies aren’t engaging in an institution that only has a 50% success rate.

When asked why this is the case, people have suggested that it boils down to one very inconvenient intersection of facts. Black women are unable to get married, they say because:

The pundits have questioned what we can do about this crisis. And yes, they’ve called being single in your 30s crisis.” The same word that they use to describe the country’s unemployment situation, AIDS in Africa and Lindsay Lohan. In fact, that’s why I was made fun of for not dating a stranger and then ignored on television by a beloved celebrity asked to appear on a daytime talk show. (Read more about that here).

It stands to reason that people are very concerned about this. After all, we all know that marriage is the absolute best thing that can happen to a woman, so we must find out why women are avoiding such a blissful state of being. I mean, they could just settle after all. But the fact that they’re not implies that they’re acting on their own agency.

Soon they're gonna want jobs and birth control. Ugh!

Here is a list of 10 tons of dumb things women are actually enjoying doing instead of racing to the altar. If you see a woman doing any of the below, for the love of all that is holy, stop her immediately and put a ring on it!

  • Getting advanced degrees (hard to plan a wedding and a dissertation at the same time)
  • Catching up on their reading.
  • Enjoying hobbies
  • Relying on themselves for happiness instead of romance
  • Dating in a measured and paced way
  • Not living in 1954
  • Learning another language
  • Sleeping in
  • Travelling
  • Taking up Yoga
  • Moving up the corporate ladder
  • Working on a business plan
  • Making amends with their families
  • Getting out of debt
  • Trying roller derby
  • Considering taking a class in comedic burlesque
  • Enjoying coming home to a quiet, still apartment
  • Volunteering
  • Learning to sew
  • Making meaningful friendships
  • Planning themed happy hours
  • Attending comedy shows
  • Considering season tickets to the LA Phil
  • Practicing safe boundaries
  • Getting involved in a local campaign
  • Occupying Wall Street
  • Wine Tasting
  • Summering
  • Relaxing
  • Attending Evensong at their local Episcopal Parish
  • Enjoying satisfying, yet casual relationships
  • Trying out that new restaurant
  • Taking on a couple extra projects at work
  • Swapping out their spring clothes for fall
  • Getting caught up with their lady doctor appointments
  • Trying puppetry
  • Hiking
  • Finally signing up for piano lessons
  • Remodeling the kitchen
  • Doing something about that bald patch in the yard
  • Working out which business contacts it’s necessary to get holiday gifts for and which ones can do with a card
  • Setting some goals for 2012
  • Wondering why that latest doomsday guy was given air time on NPR
  • Being bummed that the David Sedaris reading in Irvine on 11/19 is sold out
  • Canceling some magazine subscriptions
  • Taking a bartending class
  • Learning to play video games just to see what all the fuss is about
  • Arguing about why Ides of March was really not that good
  • Loving that new machine at the gym that makes you feel like you’re running in sand
  • Helping some friends with their marketing plan
  • Understanding that a piece of paper isn’t necessary for everyone to feel like they’re part of something special
  • Making sure they don’t make the same mistakes their parents did
  • Understanding the finer points of semi-colon use
  • Trying vegetarianism
  • Reaching some personal goals
  • Debating whether to get an iPhone, Droid or just a plain non smart phone
  • Practice dressage
  • Not making their squish mitten look like a 12 year old’s by ripping all the hair off of it
  • Making DIY cat box cleaners
  • Catching up on the AFI Top 100 List
  • Babysitting the kids of those who did procreate
  • Taking architectural tours of local neighborhoods
  • Getting another tattoo
  • Learning how to make falafel
  • Learning how to spell falafel
  • Checking out that new whisky bar
  • Heading up to a food truck festival
  • Accepting that they just plain ol’ don’t like sushi
  • Feeling self-confident
  • Making up for lost time
  • Not needlessly spending hundreds of dollars on Feb. 14
  • Attending Comic Con
  • Triathlons
  • Having leftovers last 3-4 days instead of 1
  • Mudruns
  • Buying underwear that’s comfortable and maybe sexy, not the other way around
  • Going to see Bring It On: The Musical against their better judgement
  • Independent filmmaking
  • Pooping without having to shut the bathroom door
  • Enjoying the company of other people without the complication of worrying that they’re not good enough if they don’t have a romantic partner
  • Did I already say making Quiche?
  • Not dealing with someone else’s morning breath every day
  • Getting up early because the world is lovely at 5:30 a.m.
  • Getting too involved in comment arguments on facebook (Batman IS a superhero!!)
  • Restoring leather goods
  • Visiting vintage stores
  • Trying a trip via train
  • Finally ignoring the text from their handsome, but narcissistic ex
  • Finishing that novel
  • Starting another one
  • Fucking relaxing
  • Not spending $50,000 on a white dress and party
  • Only having to coordinate one calendar
  • Staying up to 2 a.m. reading Cracked.com
  • Farting sometimes without wondering if it’s unsexy
  • Accepting or declining invitations without having to call anyone else first
  • Not wondering if the last text or lack thereof means anything

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What other bullshit things are women doing instead of getting married. Let us know in the comments!

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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!

What Will Happen When You Go On a Daytime Talk Show*

I somehow understand this now.

*Per a bunch of legal blahblahs, the name of the show is being withheld until said show airs.

You will have your own dressing room. There will be 27 bottles of water in the fridge. Sunchips, granola bars and Flaming Hot Cheetos will be piled up on an end table. The lamp on that table will not light up. At first, this room will feel warm and inviting. A wrangler will put you in the room and tell you someone will be with you “soon.” Half an hour later when no one has come for you, this room will feel more like a cozy little jail cell. You will hear doors opening and closing in the hallway and you will worry that at some point on the show your first love or long lost relative will show up, or that you’re being set up for an Intervention. You will freak out about this and will take no comfort in the knowledge that you do not have a substance abuse problem.

There will be a knock on your door and wardrobe will come in and bring you clothes that are fancier than what you normally buy at Forever 21. They’ll use fancy jargon like “pencil skirt,” “color blocking” and “stop crying, everyone has to wear Spanx.

Next, the makeup department will break your heart by making you look more beautiful than you ever have. In fact, you pretty much look like a different person…a person who you have begun to envy for her grace, poise and ability to understand eye shadow. You wonder if there’s a place you can go out to that night to take advantage of the fact that you look like a dream. You imagine meeting a wonderful and handsome stranger. You will have a lovely bottle of wine with this stranger and then you will tell him that you can never see him again because you are an angel or a ghost or are scheduled to be executed at dawn—anything to keep him from trying to contact you and finding out that in real life you look like a hobo.

I'm sorry, I'm only on earth a short while.

You will wonder if the term hobo is offensive.

You will think you will be able to replicate this look when you get home. You will not. You will start thinking of ways to steal the Spanx, because, gosh darnit, you really do look a lot better with them on.

If you step out of your room cell without a handler, someone will admonish you to return to your room. This will not ease the feeling that someone is going to haul you off to rehab for an as yet undiagnosed addiction.

Wardrobe will ask you if you have any jewelry, then will bring you a bracelet, earrings and a necklace that all match and you will marvel at their ability to make you look like a girl. You will then realize how highly constructed the beauty standard is wonder if it’s bad that you feel so fucking pretty right now.

You will listen to show tunes to simultaneously calm yourself down and “ramp up your energy!!!” as the show runners have asked you to do. You will wonder if the big smiles they’ve been giving you are fake or if they actually like you. Their continued enthusiasm will not abate the still-gnawing concern that someone’s going to a produce a heroin pipe with your fingerprints inexplicably on it.

Don't worry, Officer, it's just cocain-- I mean baking soda. BAKING SODA!!

You suddenly remember that your mother said she was taking a totally random trip to “North Carolina” this week. You wonder if she’s going to show up on set and tell you that she’s really your father.

You will really wish that the room was bigger or that there was one other living thing inside of it.

Someone will come in and say that they’re turning on the TV in the room so that you can see a live feed of the show you’re about to be on. The TV will at first be set to the wrong channel so Jerry Springer will come on and you will shit your Spanx a little bit.

Soon, you will be taken out of your holding cell and for half an hour, you will stand in line in your platform shoes that are sexy as all hell, but half a size too small.

The show will break for commercial and a person who’s presumably the charmingest person in the crew will awkwardly talk to the audience and pump them for anecdotes that will definitely not be used at any time during the rest of the show.

A handler will walk you out on stage where four other guests have been chatting for a while. You will remember that the clips of the show you did see seemed a bit more Springer-esque than you were hoping for, but you feel confident that you will be able to have a great conversation with the Celebrity Host. After all, you spent a week talking to producers, telling them who you are and sharing your POV with them. Surely they couldn’t have been lying to you when they said they loved what you had to say.

The Celebrity Host will announce your presence and then roll footage that you prepared for them. However, they will re-edit the footage so that you appear to be a mean, deluded villain. The audience will boo. You will roll your eyes, but you will remain composed. You will then tell the audience that while your work is mostly satire and sarcasm, there are a few truths you’d like to talk about. You will tell two jokes and the whole room will laugh and you will feel good because you did not allow the villain tag to stick.

Not me.

The Celebrity Host will not like this.

A guy in the audience will support your sentiment and begin to add his own thoughtful commentary.

The Celebrity Host will ignore what the guy is saying and instead ask you if you want to go out with that guy on a date. That night.

You will say no because that person is a stranger and considering all you really know about him is that he agreed to be in the audience of a daytime talk show, it might be best to have him vetted just a bit.

The Celebrity Host will get another man on stage to join him in demanding that you go out with the stranger. That night. You will hold your ground and say no. The two men will get a little louder and encourage the audience to pressure you into letting this stranger spend the evening with you as well. The audience will comply and you will unfairly compare yourself to a victim in the Coliseum or a character in The Hunger Games. And because you have finally found the boundaries that have eluded you your entire life, you will say no a final time.

The Celebrity Host will say you are too hard to please and that this is why you will never be able to put a ring on it.

It is at this point that you realize that they did not want you to come on the show because you were bright and had interesting things to say. You will remain poised, but will mentally check out while the other four people on stage conform to race and gender stereotypes. You will feel sad. But you will applaud at the right times as indicated by the tired looking woman who is standing by Camera B.

While you wonder exactly how much longer you can keep your legs crossed so tightly so that the front row doesn’t see right up your Spanx, you will be super glad that your friend happened to get a gig on set that day. Because you can tell by the way he smiles at you from behind the audience that he knows what you’re thinking. And that he empathizes.

The show will end and the Celebrity Host will not look you in the eye when they shake your hand. They will, however, laugh it up with the women who spent the whole show acting like they had just stepped out of a Tyler Perry movie and were on their way to a Stephnfetchit: The Musical audition. Other members of the crew will ask those ladies to stick around for further interviews. You will be excused.

As you walk by them, those ladies will drop their sassy ghetto accents, and in voices that sound exactly like yours admit that they were just playing. They will not understand the shock in your eyes as you mull over the fact that their little games for a few minutes of media attention ultimately make life harder for all three of you.

You will return to your cell and change out of your show clothes and back into your regular hobo gear. You will be paid for your time and humiliation in cash. It will feel dirty.

You will be half way back to work before you realize how upset you are that two grown ass men made fun of you for no reason and wasted quite a bit of time just to make you look bad because you value actual conversation. You will begin crying and all your pretty mascara will run away down your cheeks. You will be happy to that the first meeting you have to attend upon getting back to your office is in a dark room.

After the meeting your boss will look at you like he wants to ask what’s up. But he’s very polite, so he will not. You will eat a hot dog because you deserve some comfort food and you will hope that no one notices that your eyes are wet for the rest of the day.

You will wonder why someone the nation touts as an expert person who cares about people could be such a shithead. You wonder if the home audience is really incapable of having a conversation about race, class and feminism that doesn’t descend into name-calling, head-popping and people ranting about their baby mamas. You will remember that you thought that bullying ended in high school and you will feel extra depressed that the nation will see you dismissed as a valid human because you had the gall to be a layered human.

You will wonder if maybe because you lost the attention of the Celebrity Host and the viewing audience if you indeed have lost value. Celebrity Host is the expert, after all. You will wonder if maybe you should just be less fucking uptight about the representation of people in the media. If maybe you should just throw boundaries to the wind and agree to maybe get date raped for a television network’s profit margin. You wonder if you do not loosen up, will it mean that you will not make it in this industry and thus the last third of your life a naive waste.

Then your boss will finally come around and ask you what’s wrong. And when you say you’re not ready to talk about it, he will look at you with empathy and say that you did good work that day. Your friend will tell you over facebook chat to just blow it off. And when you explain to him that you are truly hurting over this, he will continue to listen and be nice to you and check in with you to see if you’re okay. Your friend from the set will text you and tell you that you did a good job and that while you didn’t get to say much, your composure spoke volumes. Your therapist will tell you that your anger is justified and that you may have an issue with impulse control, so maybe don’t go drink tonight. Your roommate will let you rant and rave and she will understand why you are so hurt. You will appreciate all of it immensely and you will wish you weren’t so phobic about hugs.

First stop, hug. Next stop, cuddle party.

You will eat two Lemongrass Chicken Stix and find them to be too pungent. You will remove the lingering taste with 6 mini s’mores from Trader Joes. You will have a glass of wine. Yes, just the one. And you will curl up with your cats and do some writing before you go to bed.

You will think about two things that make you feel better. The first thing is that the rest of your afternoon was full of more value and love than 15 minutes in front of a camera will ever bring and so if all you have for the rest of your career are afternoons like this one, that will be just fine. You will want to tell those ladies that but you didn’t get their numbers and you don’t know their names.

You will also feel better knowing that while you did give the sexy sexy platform shoes back to wardrobe, you totally stole their fucking Spanx.

How to Take a Compliment

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?

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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.

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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!

N-Words

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
or
I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke Nietzsche
or
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:
Find out whether or not Huck Finn should have gone unaltered!
***
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!
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**(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??)