oreofail

Oreofail – John Hughes (it’s not too soon for this, right?)

 

No, sir, you are not cute or charming...but do you wanna get a coffee or something?

I tried, I really did, but I finally came to my decision: conclusion that I do not like John Hughes movies.

 

While this upsets my friends who so fondly organize Pretty in Pink parties, it upsets me even more because there is little in the film canon that is as waspy as a John Hughes flick.

Lest you think I came to this decision too hastily, I have tried several movies. There was “She’s Having a Baby”  which should be named “She’s Having a Baby…in the last 5 minutes of this snoozefest, don’t even bother looking for the baby in the first 180 minutes of this thing or you will be sorely disappointed.”  I also managed to get through..ugh…The Breakfast Club and…wait for it, yes I don’t like this one, either. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Why don’t I like FB? Because he’s an arrogant little shit…though if you look at my dating life, it seems to indicate that I really like arrogant little shits.

But I digress…I know people are supposed to like these movies. But every plot could be summed up with this tagline:

The Breakfast Club:

“My perfectly acceptable life could be way better if I made some very minor changes, but that’s too much work and not as sexy as f*cknig brooooooooding about it.” ***

(** Judd Nelson, you’re excused from this. Kevin Bacon, you are not!)

And, yes, I do get that not all of the film and TV that I loved in my childhood holds up today. For example:

  • The Neverending Story. This movie will always be beloved to me, but after watching it as an adult, I realized…it’s not very good. (The “sadness of the swamp,” really Atreyu? And WTF does she yell at the end? And if there’s nothing left of the world, WTF are they standing on ?!?!) But I love it. Because it was dear to me when I watched it.
  • Boy Meets World. Yes, it’s also full of broody teens, too, not unlike a John Hughes movie…but, but, but Sean was so dreamy!!…and he dated an Oreo! How could I not love it??
  • Rent. When I saw this play at 16, I thought “F yeah! How dare those fascists make you pay rent!!” As a 20-something, I watched it and thought “Hmm, you know, you could get a job and write and paint at night if you’re having a hard time making the bills.”

So I get why people like the JH flicks…if I had seen them for the first time(s) when I was a teen and watching Brendan Frazier’s School Daze in back to back screenings, and not a few months ago when I’m well-past the broodings, I probably would have loved them, too.

 

Do you like John Hughes? Anything you can suggest I watch that might change my mind? Or any childhood faves that only stand your personal test of time and don’t actually hold up?

 

*****

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Leave a comment here or at any of the above and let us know what you think!

Oreo Birthday Win and Fail?

...and lead us not into temptation...

It was many moons ago today that the self loathing started. And this weekend, two conversation showed me how much my efforts have paid off and reminded me how far I have to go.

The first one:

Someone I know through the Internets was looking at my Kickstarter page: (http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/aydrea/white-on-the-inside-christmas)

And had this to say.

Him: Wow, you definitely got the accent down. You sound totally white!
Me: That’s my actual voice. That’s just how I sound.
Him: Oh.

And the other happened over dinner. I was eating out with a member of my blanchetourage and  I knew I was taking my chances by having chicken…and by ordering a leg and thigh instead of a breast while my friend ordered a breast. The waitress came with our food and said:

Waitress: (to him) – you’re white.

(Waitress puts his food down)

Waitress: (to me) – and you’re dark.

While I initially considered this a fail for her pointing out the painfully, shamefully obvious, I realized, that she probably can’t say this to every patron of color lest they get all uppity about the word choice. You know, like this guy. (heart you WKB!)

What do you think? Chicken fail or win? And do you prefer light or dark (meat, that is. it’s obvious what we prefer in people 🙂 ) Let us know in the comments.

And let me know when your birthday is, so I can send you a message!! Lemme know in the comments or email at oreo@theoreoexperience.com

So Close to a Creamy

The votes are in an it’s a swing and a miss for Lorenzo Dow Turner, the first prominent African American linguist. Kudos to him for earning a

A Harvard degree, straightened hair and if he weren't in sepia tone, the ability to pass the paper bag test?? So close to a top tier Oreo!

Master’s Degree from Harvard and  PhD from The Unviersity of Chicago–in around 1915, when people thought even worse things about of colors.

But a big Oreo boo to him for taking those Oreo-tastic accolades and then using his academic acumen to study… black people!

Called “the father of Gullah stories,” Turner spent his years visiting the U.S.’s Sea Islands off the coast of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida and learning how the linguistically isolated black folk there talked to each other.

A museum exhibit in DC is currently showcasing Turner’s work.

They called a small bird “bidi.” They called a white man “buckra.” They said “dash away” to get rid of a bad habit. And used “de” instead of “to be.” They used “e” as a pronoun for “he,” “she” and “it.” They said “eh” for “yes.” And “fanner” was a basket used to thresh rice. They said “hudu” was something that brought bad luck. And whispered sweetly “nyam” while encouraging a child to eat.

Is there something kind of pretty and lyrical and poetic about these words? Sure. But how typical! I’ve squelched my love for poets Langston Hughes  Nikki Giovanni for years just so I don’t look so…RBPis. It’s booooring when a black person says they’re into some other black person. But you get this totally cool look from folks when you tell someone that you heart Bukowski and Ondaatje.

A misogynist and a misanthrope, yum!!

(And seriously, The Cinnamon Peeler by Michael Ondaatje–mostbeautifulpoemofalltime–read it, it’s beautiful!!)

What’s on your beach/regatta reading list for this summer?

The Black-and-Whites chasing a Black and White

Thanks to the folks at Sociological Images for posting a great story that made all my little Oreo hair stand up in their chemically relaxed folicles.

You can read the whole story here. But here’s the gist.

Two 7-year-old boys took their family’s cars without permission and led police on a chase. One kid is white. The other is an RBP. The videos below show how differently these kids were treated by the media.

The white boy, Preston, is interviewed with his family on the set of the Today show.  Knowing his kid is safe, his Dad describes the event as “funny” and tells the audience that if this could happen to a “cotton candy all-American kid like Preston,” then “it could happen to anybody.”

This story contrasts dramatically to the CNN story about Latarian Milton, a black 7-year-old who took his family’s car on a joy ride.  I’ll put the video first, but be forewarned, it’s disturbing not only because of the different frame placed on the boys actions, but because of the boy’s embracing of the spoiled identity:

With an absolutely polar introduction of “Not your typical 7-year-old,” this story is filmed on the street. Whereas the Today show screened the chase footage in real time, this one is sped up, making it seem even more extreme.

The non-color kid got a fluff piece on The Today Show and everyone laughed at his little mistake. The police held no grudge and everyone’s fine in the end.

The police who dealt with the RBP kid said that they do “want to get him into the system.”

Obviously, I was upset.

Had this kid just put on an Oreo game face, he could have totally booked the Today show! Imagine how much more fun his story would have been if he had worn a collard shirt and not used the word “hoodrat” or been named “Latarian.”

*OreoWriter rushes off to begin Oreo outreach program*

Interestingly enough, CNN did Oreos a favor by showing us that kids still prefer white dolls/kids to black ones…and then I suppose, the story on the car thief was the answer as to why they do.

Chris Rocked My World (in a bad way)

So, you know how sometimes you’ll step into a room and someone will be having a conversation that either a) is about you or b) they think will embarrass them, so they stop talking all fast, which is is actually more awkward than just finishing the sentence.

Well, that just happened.

I walked into our break room to throw out the remnants of my chicken parm and one of our supervisors was telling this to an intern.

Supe: “You don’t know Chris Rock, well, he’s a bla—”

And then I appeared.

Supe: “Um…African American comic…and…um….”

I had about 30 seconds left to clear my plate and put my leftovers (dinner) in the fridge, so I just hung out as they got

Yeah, just wasn't ringing a bell. (he does do musical theater and is married to a non color, so he's well on his way to becoming Oreo approved)

deadly silent.

Finally, when I left, they started talking again. Which was silly because there’s no fourth wall on that kitchen, so as soon as I crossed the threshold into the hallway and they went back into their conversation, I could hear them as well as I could if I were standing next to them.

The supe finished describing Chris Rock and the intern continued to not know who he was.

Needless to say, I was embarrassed.

Because I do know who Chris Rock is.

Few things prove your Oreoness more than not recognizing a prominent name of color in casual conversation.

In high school, it was not knowing who Taye Diggs was. Right now, it’s the blank look on my face when someone mentions Wade, Bosh or Drake.

Equally as Oreo-tastic is not realizing that say Miles Davis was black or that Cole Porter wasn”t. Though, now that I know those facts, I’ll have to find some other icons to misinterpret.

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.

Confession: I am in this Big Boi/Mary J Blige Video

Really…Hey, it’s been a tough couple of years for all of us. And even an Oreo needs to find work when she can.

But instead of lamenting, let’s make it fun. Can you find me? Hit me back (the kids say–as I was told on set) and let me know you’ve spotted me by giving me the time code of where I show up. First one to it gets a personalized mix of the music on my ipod that got me through that day. 🙂