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Gabby Douglas: Pros and Cons

America’s new darling is presenting a very particular problem for Oreos.

How and if to support gymnast Gabby Douglas’s gold medal performances puts a self loathing of color in a tricky territory. It was the same conundrum faced in the 2008 election. On one hand, Barack Obama is the opposite of terrible fuckupedness. On the other hand…of COURSE you’re voting for the black guy. Typical. How do you be an Oreo when the dark horse isn’t the one that makes everyone uncomfortable, but seems to be the one that makes sense?

If you’re not sure if it’s in the Oreo code to join the GD bandwagon, that’s okay because frankly, neither are we. Check out these pros and cons and let us know what you decide.

PRO: By being up on current events and showing support for the little dynamo everyone loves, you’ll fit in at the office, yacht club or Ann Taylor Loft fire sale with ease

CON: Really? Out of allllll the athletes of COURSE you like the black one.

PRO: Gymnastics is a pretty anglotastic discipline to say you’re a fan of.

CON: True…but you can get paler. Dressage. Archery. Biathlon. Speed walking. You’re barely trying with this gymnastics BS.

PRO: By recognizing the historic significance of Gabby’s all-around gold medal, we might get one step closer to addressing the systematic issues that keep more young women like her from reaching their true potential.

CON: Look, there can only be so many Oreos. If we suddenly start making it okay for scores of black girls to garner national attention for something other than who their baby daddy be, then how are you going to stand out at the estate auction?

PRO: By helping spread the word about young Ms. Douglas, you may be helping a nation continue to heal from deep-seated historic wounds.

CON: Healing, schmealing! It’s the scars on the inside that really build–holy God, did you see that layout??! That was like poetry in motion. Literal poetry. I think sonnets came out of her leotard.

PRO: It’s a great chance in this charged political climate to come together as a nation in joyous support of someone who truly achieved the American Dream.

CON: Yeah, but c’mon! They’re Olympians for cryin’ out loud! All the athletes are awesome! Can’t you pick a white one? Gabby’s not the only one who–OHMYGOD! That was amazing! She’s like a gazelle and a wood nymph rolled into one unearthly being!!

PRO: She’s amazing.

CON: She’s amazing.

And she knows it. Clap your hands.
(source)

So choose wisely. Make the wrong decision and your face will melt off with embarrassment as people think you’re just another RBP. Make the right decision and you can keep the President of the Equestrian Society on your Christmas party invite list.

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Are you watching the Olympics? How’s that going for you? Have you ever been to the Olympics? As a spectator or participant. If it’s the latter, what are you doing reading this blog? And are you available for endorsements? I’ll totes pay you to temporary tattoo this domain on your face. What’s the problem? It’s just a temporary tatt. It’ll come off in like a week.

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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!

On Being Short Sighted

For those who were there, this might sound familiar. For those who weren’t, this is a story I shared at The Moth a few weeks back. The theme of the night was “Small World” 

I hate to admit it, but there was a time when I totally let a guy’s height influence whether or not I would date him.

I date online. As you do these days. And the vast majority of the messages that turn up in my inbox consistent entirely of a: “Hey” or a “You’re sexy.” or a “Do you date Mexican guys?”

Is it weird that I get that same question at job interviews?
(source)

So when I get an actual email with actual words in it, I get very excited. And this one guy’s email had actual words and actual phrases, so I was very excited.

I clicked on over to his profile for a quick “any signs of crazy” check. And for the most part, things looked good.

I looked at his main picture–a headshot. He was no Ryan Reynolds, but I am also not Ryan Reynolds, so that was okay. He had a job and was pretty articulate and a little funny, so hooray. I wrote him back.

He wrote me back that same night and his email actually made me laugh out loud, so I was extra excited! But before I was going to invest the next 7 minutes writing him an email, I decided I should spend another hour or so over-analyzing his profile and potentially talking myself out of a perfectly nice thing, as you do.

Back on his profile, there were some flags. He was a smoker. Not a deal breaker per se, but not ideal for me. He had a job, but he didn’t seem to have many big aspirations. I’m a very ambitious person, so I kinda want to date someone who gets that part of me. He was a little cynical, which is fine, but I’m prone to feeling needlessly upset about things, so I’m kinda looking for someone a little naturally more positive.

The epitome of positivity.
(source)

But then one sentence caught my eye.

“The box is correct. I am that short.”

The “box” is a list of personal bullet points–sign, religion, pets, kids, height. For his height, it said “4 feet.”

I clicked on the picture tab to see all of his shots. He was correct. Dude was a dwarf. He wasn’t just a “smaller guy” or “someone with a slight frame.” He probably had paperwork somewhere about his height. And as I looked at his pictures, one thought kept running through my head. I realized…I don’t know any dwarves. Ohmygod, I DON’T KNOW ANY DWARVES!!!

(remember the part about me feeling needlessly bad about things)

And I started to panic about why I didn’t know any dwarves. Was I accidentally racist…or whatever…about dwarves? All of my friends are totally regular-bodied. I don’t have any friends in wheelchairs or who are deaf. I’ve got a couple of Crohn’s sufferers, but only one of them is missing any of her intestines, and I think she’s only missing like an inch or so. I had no idea I was so close-minded!

I also started so see this guy’s profile in a whole new light.

Of COURSE he’s a smoker, OreoExperience. It’s probably been very stressful being a dwarf, I’d probably be a smoker, too! And so he’s a little unambitious. So what? You know what’s probably insanely difficult, OreoExperience? Getting the leverage necessary to do brain surgery on a rocket ship when you’re only 48 inches tall! Oh, and he’s a little cynical. Give the guy a break, OreoExperience, how do you think you’d feel about the world if every day someone probably asked you if you knew Peter g-damn Dinklage! As much as you hate to admit it, you’re a minority, too! You know what it’s like to be judged on how you look. Why don’t you give the guy a break and go out with him?!?!?

For the record, I loved the Dinklage long before Winter ever came.
(source)

So I happily wrote him back and I started to fantasize about the beautiful, progressive relationship we’d have. How we’d become UN Ambassadors for love and change the world through our tiny, cafe au lait colored children.

But then I got his response. And it was a little much. Like three pages a little much. And rambly. And spent maybe too many words describing how often he gets distracted at work because he’s too busy constructing fantasy lives for all his clients instead of just listening to them.

So I didn’t write him back.

But not because he was short. But because he was crazy.

Which might make me a jerk. But at least I’m not racist…or whatever.

Tom and Katie: 4 Reasons Breaking Up is Great to Do

Like many of you, I was shocked and saddened to hear that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes 6-year performance art piece marriage is ending. Having gone through such a split myself, I know what a tough, confusing time it can be.

I mean, there were no signs that this wouldn’t be a perfect fairy tale.
(source)

But like with every grey cloud, bump in the road or bucket full of lemons, there is a silver lining, another path and a hapless passerby to chuck the bucket at.

Divorce isn’t all bad. Just because all your hopes and dreams for the future have been dashed against a rock much bigger than the one you naively put on your finger, doesn’t mean it can’t be a great time in your life. Here are a few things that make those rivers of tears and awkward changes of facebook statuses totally worth it.

  • You get to count your blessings….And then list them one by one on a form for authorization. How many times do we say that we wish we had more time to just enjoy the things we’ve been working for? Well, when you get divorced, you get to enjoy each and every thing you’ve ever purchased ever as you catalogue it, wrap it up and then box it up before the movers get there.
  • You get better gifts. When you get married, people give you boring things like towels and storage ottomans and good wishes. When you get divorced, they give you booze.
  • You get to fit in. With a divorce rate hovering just over 50%, you don’t wanna be one of those assholes who rubs their perfect relationship in everyone’s faces, do you? Why do you wanna make everyone else feel bad you big bully? Plus, how are you supposed to understand every joke in every movie, television show and blog post ever if you’re like happy or something?
  • You get to meet new people. Between your attorneys, notaries and various officers of the court, your life is flooded with a host of new faces and maybe new friends. And who knows, if you play your cards right, you might be divorcing one of them before you know it!

I mean, you’re already dressed up, there’s a judge and an aisle to walk down. Why not just go for it?
(source)

What were the best things about your last breakup? Let us know in the comments!

For more surprising benefits of craptacular things, check out;

8 Other Awesome Things About Slavery

6 Reasons The Help Was The Best Movie Ever

1 Reason Disgusting Truffle Oil Was Worth The Trouble

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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!

Nine Sports That Are Weirder Than Dressage

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!

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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!

Oreo-Approved Summer Gifts

Awww, you shouldn’t have!!
…yes you should. Always.
(source)

Summer is a big season for gifting. We had Mother’s Day, the Jubilee, this weekend is Father’s Day, then there are summer weddings, graduations, house-warmings, birthdays, then in the fall, it’s back to school, my birthday, a tiny break and then The Holidays!

When going to all these events, an Oreo must choose gifts wisely. Pick the wrong bauble of affection and you may lose your invitation to next year’s regatta. Your gift must be both an expression of who you’ve chosen to be and who you hope the people are around you. I’m not saying that if you choose a gift poorly, your face will melt off like you just drank from the Cup of Not Christ, but you might wish it would have. Stand out from the pack and the RBP with this handy guide of Oreo-approved gifts.

Father’s Day – June 18

  • Creme Fraiche
  • Franklin Covey organizers
  • Sachin Tendulker-autographed Cricket bat
  • Eggs in bed – Ostrich or Faberge
  • Notarized agreement to say simply “issues” instead of “daddy issues” to therapists, lovers

Wimbledon – June 25 – July 8

  • Came Set Match Care Package and Picnic Basket including: bottled water, sunglasses, wide-brimmed hat, binoculars, sunscreen, bribe money.
  • Ironic racquets from other sports – badminton, pickleball, squash
  • Andre Agassi
  • Creme Fraiche
  • Diamond-and-line judge tennis bracelet
  • Vintage Sports Illustrated covers, Current Sports Illustrated franchise

Fourth of July BBQ

  • Bottle of Zinfandel or Shiraz
  • A tasty side dish: Spicy orzo and black bean salad, garbanzo pasta salad, that nice young man from yoga.
  • Gordon Ramsay
  • Lamb – a live one for the kids to pet.
  • Creme Fraiche
  • *Don’t even joke about bringing watermelon. Even if it has been thoroughly injected with vodka

Bastille Day- July 14

  • Beret
  • Cake
  • Private performance of Les Mis
  • Champagne cellar
  • Marie Antoinette costume: wig, dress, ladies in waiting
  • Creme Fraiche

Weddings

  • Champagne
  • Appropriate gift certificates: Restoration Hardware, Williams-Sonoma, Municipality of Monaco, Law Firm
  • Summer home
  • Creme Fraiche
  • A plausible excuse

Baby Showers

  • Cloth diaper service
  • Organic swaddling blanket
  • Scientific paper showing evidence that drinking while pregnant isn’t always a terrible thing
  • Appropriate gift certificates: Restoration Hardware, Williams-Sonoma, Municipality of Monaco, Therapist’s Office
  • Creme Fraiche

Birthdays

  • Wine of the Month Club Membership
  • French Cheese of the Month Club Membership
  • Creme Fraiche of the Month Club Membership
  • Organic Produce of the Month Club Membership
  • Opera of the Month Club Membership
  • Emotionally Available Suitor of the Month Club Membership

TOE Birthday

  • Houseplant
  • Tickets to The Book of Mormom (I am willing to see this more than one time)
  • A pint or two in London
  • Adam Pascal/Ben Stiller/Hugh Grant
  • Creme Fraiche

You may also feel free to pick from any of the items that are on a standard Oreo shopping list. Though if you have to buy any of these items for someone, they’re probably an RBP and should be dis-invited from your box seats immediately.

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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!

Black Ladies: Ugly, Lonely, Fat – So Say Studies, “Them”

It’s news like this that daily reconfirms my commitment to the Oreo lifestyle. These headlines might sadden some; but not me. I read them and smile knowing that I have made the right choice to do whatever I can to escape my ethnicity.

In case you haven’t been reading your professional journals of late and then following what the InterTwitterNets say about those findings, there’s been some news and it boils down to this: Black ladies…go ahead and give up. Just pack it in, call it a day and move along. Because it sucks for you.

Let’s see what the last year has taught us.

In May, 2011, a contributor for Psychology Today wrote a piece that explained how “objectively” “black women” were “less attractive” than “Everyone.”

In case you think that the article was simply misunderstood and I’m pulling something out of context, the title of the article was “Why Are Black Women Less Physically Attractive Than Other Women?”

Kerry Washington. Upending science since 1977.
(source)

Sure, it’s true that the author of the piece, Satoshi Kanazawa, is known for trying to justify his racist and sexist views with science, so one might say that it’s easy to dismiss this article as the ramblings of a bored idiot. Buuuuuuut,  it’s also true that a company full of editors, managing editors, executive editors, consultants and CEOs allowed that column to be published in a non-fiction magazine. So they had to have thought it had merit.

And I mean, he must be on to something. If black ladies were really all that cute, maybe we’d see one as a romantic lead in a movie that didn’t involve a man in drag and I wouldn’t have had to go to prom with a gay dude. If dark skin truly held a candle to light skin you’d see it on the regular on magazine covers and in the dark.

Kanazawa said a lot of really interesting things. Like how black dudes and white dudes are pretty much equally attractive but black women are teh fugs. He even had a chart to explain, look!

Truth.

And why are black gals so gross, “Dr.” Kanazawa? Because they have more testosterone coursing through their vomit-inducing veins and thus look like men and so they’re ugly. (No chart was available for that).

Also, how ironic is it that I totally misspelled his name as “Dr. Kwanzaa!”

In February of this year, the Internets saw more oh noes about black women when it was discovered that…they’re not getting married!!!!… As much or as early as they used to!!!…Oh!!! No…?

There was a big-deal book that was published that actually in part echoed Kwanzaa’s ramblings research. It said that one of the reasons black ladies can’t get turned into proper women is that they’re dating black men less and white guys juuuuust aren’t that into them.

Hey! An Oreo wedding cake topper! It’s totally not weird that I’m buying this now… right? Maybe I just wanna put it on my birthday cake. Or a Friday morning cupcake.
(source)

(And yes, I was duped into going on television to talk about this)

Never mind that a delay in the age of first marriages also correlates to higher earning potential and more education… Cuz, sure, black gals may be getting their Masters’ Degrees, but they’re not getting their MRS’s so… you know… problems…

And as if being ugly and alone weren’t enough, this very week we learned that black women should just cancel their gym memberships, cuz they’re not gonna help.

(See, Surgeon General who said that black ladies didn’t go to the gym because they were afraid of messing up their hair? You got it all wrong. They don’t go because they got this report ahead of time and knew it was pointless!)

“They” did a study that showed that white girls stayed skinny while black girls didn’t even though both groups exercised the same amount.

Sorry gals. I know you think you’re in great shape. But you’re 85% more likely to be wrong about that than you think. Let’s go get cake. I have this neat little topper….
(source)

Sure, they were trusting on the self-reporting of a bunch of tween girls about food and exercise to render their findings without doing a simultaneous study to see how much teen girls lie about food (100% of the time).  And correct, one’s weight is not the only indicator of overall health. Et mais oui, environmental factors like access to good food play an enormous role in how a person’s body is able to regulate its weight. And yeah, black people can generally trace their roots back to Africa which is the most genetically diverse continent on the planet which means that reducing the recipients of those genes to merely “black people” is a horrible, inefficient and unuseful way to classify bazillions of DNA combinations…

But c’mon! If we start saying things like that, we have to do a lot more thinking. And what man is going to fancy a woman who’s unattractive, not a stick AND an overly analytic know-it-all.

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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!

Things I Didn’t Say: Zumba

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!

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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!

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

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?

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

Then and Now – Renn Fests, RENT and Sad Ass Rats and Puberty

I’m pretty sure that the first time my parents took me to a Renaissance Festival, they thought I would, like other (read: normal tweens) would find it to be a ridiculous exercise, and demand that we go do something  that other (read: capable of being popular) tweens would like to do like…anything else.

They were wrong.

So so wrong.

What happened instead was that I immediately fell in love and vowed never to leave my corsetted haven again. I had come home and ‘twould be an impossible task to render me from the hearth that had been kept from me so long. And by “impossible…to render” I mean that 12 hours later my folks were super annoyed and it was bloody well time to go.

Every year I think to myself (read: speak aloud to myself much to the chagrin of other [read: normal] people sitting in my office around me): “Okay, we’re gonna go to Renn Fest this year…but the magic’s probably gonna be gone. It might be kinda boring. I’m sure it won’t be as fun as OHMYGODWEGETTOGOTORENNFEST!!!”

Every year I go back to Renn Fest and fall in love all over again.

I have changed…somewhat. Here’s saucy college Oreo Experience and my period-tastic blanchetourage:

What happens in the Queen’s Court stays in the Queen’s Court.

And here’s 2012 Oreo Experience. Still dorky, more understated.

Girls just wanna have fun…and personalized garlands sold to us by a man wearing pointy felt shoes.

And so it was that I spent a lovely day eating huge pieces of meat, lusting after perfectly boned bodices and watching men ram each other with their long poles.

That’s exactly what jousting is. Men. Ramming. Poles
(source)

And I realized that while I loved Renn Fests as much as I did the first time, not everything from childhood holds up so well. Here are some things I loved loved loved as a kids and had very different reactions to later:

RENT (Life is hard for artists)

What I thought when I first saw it: Yes, yes yes!!! Art is important, AIDS is terrible, homophobia is bullshit!!! We all need to WAKE UP and stop letting THE MAN dictate  how we’re supposed to live our lives!!

What I thought when I saw it as an adult: Yes, art is important, AIDS is terrible, homophobia is bullshit. Buuuuuut, how hard is it to just get a part-time job, you know. I know it’s not “ideal” but neither is meatloaf. Doesn’t mean we don’t eat it sometimes….Though I’d still pay $1,500 to sing a duet–any duet–with Adam Pascal. (Seriously, I would pay that. Does anyone know him? Have him email me! Not bad for like a hour of his time, yeah?).

Hell, I’ll even claim my blackness and do Aida if it means I get to do… that.
(source)

Willow (I loved them both, the bushel and the peck)

What I thought when I first saw it: I don’t know what sex is yet, but when I do know what it is, I will want to have it with Madmartigan.


Elora Danan’s real baby daddy?

What I thought when I saw it as an adult: Good on you, Warwick Davis! Way to keep your career going, that’s actually really impressive. Am I racist for wondering if he and Peter Dinklage know each other?

The Neverending Story (Open book, insert boy)

What I thought when I first saw it: Yes, yes yes!!! I want to dedicate my life to reading books in the attic so that I can have awesome adventures. Those eyeball lasers are the scariest! I am in love with Valcor.

What I thought when I saw it as an adult: “You’re letting the sadness of the swamp get to you??!” Who wrote this shit? Also, what the fuck are they standing on if “this is all that’s left of the world”?? How are they breathing? If “that” is all that’s left, then there’s no air, princess. And how exactly does shouting an unintelligible name save anything? Dammit, did we go through this whole bottle??

Crying because she doesn’t know how physics work.
(source)

The Secret of NIMH_(Really tough real estate market for rats)

What I thought when I first saw it: This movie is nothing but beautiful. Also, I’m don’t know what sex is yet, but when I do know what it is, I will want to have it with Justin.

You can call me Ms. Brisby if you’re nasty.
(source)

What I thought when I saw it as an adult: *sobbing* Her poor son..that poor woman. She’s… Her husband never… Their house is just… They come from a lab… *sniffling* Why did I have so many crushes on animals as a kid??

Who Am I Now? (Horrible video my parents thought would explain some of life’s tougher questions)

What I thought when I first saw it: …the fu–??!? Okay, I’m just gonna watch it one more time. Maybe it’ll make sense then.

What I thought when I saw it as an adult: …the fu–??! Ha!! If only I had made this a drinking game back then!!

And if you’re wondering if The Core holds up.. Yes. It does.

What did you watch as a kid that doesn’t make sense now? What stands the test of time? Let us know in the comments!

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

How to Sit For a Portrait

My friend made this! Go to his website, marvel at his other awesome paintings and then hire him to make beautiful paintings for you too!
(source: Leighton Hickman Art)

Sometimes, yours truly gets to do cool things. In case you want to do cool things, too, here’s a step-by-step guide for making said things happen.

Today’s lesson: How to Sit For a Portrait. We’ll cover everything from finding an artist to getting through the session.

Pencils up? Let’s go!

1. Through an amazing stroke of luck, find yourself employed by a top-tier animation studio.

2. Spend 4 or 5 months marveling at your luck, keeping your eyes down and speaking to no one lest you do something to wake up from this wonderful lucid dream.

3. Finally work up the nerve to start talking to people. Start with the dude you always seem to end up riding up 5 floors with in the elevator.

4. Chide self for thinking that the Bo Burnham lyric “…and f*cked her in an elevator…It was wrong on so many levels…” Is the funniest ish in the world.

5. Initiate sarcastic conversation about the peanut butter and jelly sandwich your elevator-mate is holding.

6. Wonder if maybe you shouldn’t be such a fucking bitch and maybe try starting conversations with “Hey, I’m TOE, I’ve seen you around…what’s your name” instead.

7. Take Artist’s lack of response as confirmation that you are a fucking bitch, ignoring any possibility that maybe Artist is shy or distracted or thinking about something, I don’t know, related to his life and not sitting around waiting for you to make some lame joke about sandwich crusts.

8. Wonder why so many kids want the crusts cut off sandwiches. The crusts really don’t taste any different from the rest of the bread.

9. Put the desire to rationalize with beings whose frontal lobes haven’t fully developed on to your list of reasons to not have kids.

10. Repeat awkward elevator rides for a few more months.

11. Finally determine you have a legitimate reason to talk to Artist because Artist is friends with the guy who dresses entirely in Victorian Era clothing and you need to be introduced.

12. Enjoy this new, albeit sometimes quiet collection of friends.

13. Go to a meeting of the Whisky Society at work.

14. Feel awkward there. Probably because you made the same lame jokes instead of just relating to people as human beings.

I’m not saying that I would have been into the impenetrable class structure and popular notion that slavery maybe wasn’t terrible, but man, sometimes, it’d be easier to live in a place and time where every conversation was already tacitly scripted in order to ensure the most pleasant effect.

15. Miss going to Artist’s goodbye party because you have a show that night.

16. Be surprised as f when six months later, you see Artist back at the studio.

17. Assume that when Artist says “Good to see you, we should hang out!” that he’s lying.

18. Have lunch with Artist anyway.

19. Learn that Artist has joined the Whisky Society at work.

20. Wonder if this might be a way back in to getting to sample some amazing amazing bottles.

21. Discover that yes, it is.

22. Attend artist’s birthday party.

23. Sample from too many amazing amazing bottles.

24. When discussing the other portraits in Artist’s home, mention that you did figure modeling in college.

25. Enjoy the fact that because this isn’t super conservative Texas, the creatives in the room understand that yes you were naked, but no, it wasn’t all creepy and/or sexual and that you weren’t causing your brothers to stumble. You were just helping people make art to the tune of a very good hourly rate.

26. The next day, wonder if you remember correctly that you said you’d pose for Artist.

27. See Artist at work. Confirm suspicions.

28. Send an awkward email asking if the third pour of cask strength Laphroaig caused you to say that you’d pose nude.

29. Learn that it didn’t.

30. Exhale.

31. Wonder if Artist is just following up on said portrait session to be polite.

32. Decide to go along with it anyway.

33. Gain 3 pounds. Of course.

34. When asked, say that yes, white truffle oil pizza and duck confit salad sound just fine even though you’ve never had either.

35. Haul your costume choices upstairs.

36. Discover that you don’t like truffle oil or duck. Try to hide this fact from Artist who loves the shit out of both and got this food as a nice gesture, you cultureless ingrate.

37. Marvel at the amount of preparation Artist goes through before painting. Realize you never knew that many different kinds of brushes existed and that you’ve never seen oil paint except on already-mounted pieces in museums. Wonder if you’re this diligent about your art. Think that it’s neat that this rough and tumble dude can make really pretty things with his hands. Wish there was a way to cut through small talk bullshit and get right to this part of a friendship from the first time you meet in an elevator.

38. Watch Downton Abbey while Artists paints.

I don’t care how put upon she is or how much of the entail she won’t get, that artless, doghearted dewberry doesn’t deserve Cousin Matthew!
(source)

39. Wonder why the effing eff you’ve never seen this miracle of television programming before. Seriously, it’s like the producers took all the things you love about life–including Laura Linney–and put them into one fantastic show handcrafted just for you.

40. In between episodes enjoy the sounds of brush on linen and cars on street.

41. Decide that this would make a great one-act play where the audience is forced to watch two actors be very still and to create all the movement and action in dialogue and acting alone.

42. Hope you’re not being vain by wanting to see the final thing.

43. See the final thing.

44. Gasp.

45. Hope that it’s possible that you sometimes look that lovely.

46. Finally feel confident in a friendship.

47. Ruin that bit of maturity by checking Aritst’s post of the picture to make sure that people are saying that not only is the painting gorgeous, but so is the model.

48. No really, truffle oil tastes like poop. How can anyone disagree??

Forget the fancy food, Cousin Matthew! We can have all the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you want. I’ll even cut the crusts off for you.

How do you feel about truffle oil? Painting? Downton Abbey? Let us know in the comments!

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