Mea Culpa, Bed Bath and Beyond Lady. Mea Culpa

Every now and then, someone gives you a look you just won’t forget.

There’s the look of absolute pride from your trainer the first time you nail a flying lead change. There’s the look of utter appreciation and blissful relaxation when your partner realizes that yes, you have perfected the French 75.

And there’s the look of complete shock when your parents look at your wide eyes during after your first musical rehearsal and realize they’ve made a real miscalculation about what your interests would be.


But none of those looks have had the gravitas, the unexpected force, or the complete honesty of the look that this lady at Bed Bath and Beyond shot me this weekend.

I can only describe the look in her eyes as the kind of panic that would come when you open your front door and discover that what you thought was your house this whole time was really a 1920s dirigible factory and you aren’t you, you’re an orphaned street girl named Bettye Margaret and have been forced to work in this factory until your fingers bleed.

It was the kind of look that would come across your face if you went to sleep in your bed, but when you woke up, you weren’t in your bed, you were, in fact, still in your mother’s womb, but you were 33 years old and managed to keep a job in there, but were somehow still late to work.

It was the face you’d make if you went to take a sip of wine, but instead of a lovely claret, your glass was full of bees.

She was, in a word, terrified. And very angry about it.

And why wouldn’t she be? When she went to work that day, she had no idea how perilous that day would become.

I don’t know what happened in the few hours or few minutes before she happened upon myself and The Boyf, but in the few minutes before we met her, here’s what happened to us.

Approximately two hours before contact, The Boyf and I realized that we were having company for a couple of days and that we hadn’t done laundry and didn’t have anything clean for our guests to sleep on. So we did what any self-respecting childless couple would do: we went out to buy new sheets.

And while we were picking out sheets, we also discovered that we needed tissue box holders, and a new cup for toothpaste tubes and razors and things, and maybe one of those things that makes spaghetti out of vegetables because let’s get healthy, right?

Equally as good as bread. Equally as good as bread. Equally as good as bread.

Equally as good as bread. Equally as good as bread. Equally as good as bread.

We were standing in the tissue box holder aisle. Both of our hands were super full of tissue box holders, towels, sheets, bathroom cups, Keurig things, and a glass pitcher that I ~definitely~ need for my desk at work, and Bed Bath and Beyond Lady approaches the two of us who are together and who are buying household goods for what is most likely the same household.

BBBL: Do you need a cart?

Boyf: Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.

She left, presumably in search of a cart, and The Boyf and I continued filling up our arms with things that are 100% necessary to have.

After a couple of minutes, I see her en route back to us, cart in tow. I put my very crucial coffee pods on The Boyf’s giant pile of all-important shit for wine bottles that he found after we got the sheets and walked toward the Lady.

I made eye contact with Bed Bath and Beyond and she reacted in a way that totally makes sense when you think about it. 

Her pupils dilated, she yanked the cart back, her voice tightened, and she took several steps in the opposite direction of me.

“Can I help you?!” she snapped, loudly enough to be heard over the clattering of the cart that she was very actively wrestling away from me.

“What?” I asked, foolishly, as she had made her point of view loud, very loud, and rather clear.

“Can. I HELP you?”

The cart was now very far away from me. And a couple people were watching.

She had a look in her eyes hat would only come if you looked in the mirror to splash water on your face in the morning, looked down, and when you came back up and looked in the mirror again, the girl from The Ring, the boy from The Grudge, and the thing from Lights Out were flanking you out of nowhere.


Bed Bath and Beyond Lady was scared as fuck.

I looked around behind myself for whoever was causing all the trouble.

No one was there.

I looked back at her and realized that yes, she was talking to, snapping at, afraid of… me.

“Oh,” I said, and actually put my hands in the air, because programming, and said “I’m with him.”

I pointed to The Boyf. To the nice white guy in glasses and freckles this woman had just seen me standing next to, flirting with, buying faux chrome accoutrements with just seconds before.

She looked at him, looked at me, back at him, then back to me.

“Oh,” said, and returned her eyes to his. “Here you go.” And handed the cart to him.

I watched her walk away and hoped that she would be okay.

I also realized her F5 panic attack was my fault.

I mean, you can’t just run up on a lady holding out your hands for the thing she said she was going to get for you without prepping first.

How was she to know that I wasn’t just some crazed brown person about to stab her to death in the sanctuary of her workplace and then drop out of school? What else was she to imagine other than me ripping that cart out of her hands, setting it on fire to stage a BLM protest, and then not tipping on the way out? She had seen me with The Boyf, but how was she to know if our laughing and picking out matching patterns was the act of a couple who has spent half a decade together, or the well-designed ruse of a crafty con artist. She couldn’t know this, and so all she knew was that it was only a matter of time before I came for her.

I should have guessed this might happen.

Remember that laundry problem? Yeah, that meant I was wearing a hoodie. I should have just swung by Anthropologie on the way to Bed Bath and Beyond instead of terrorising this woman with my casual weekend wear. (Since when do Oreos do casual, anyway? Have you seen my celery dish collection?). A Rhianna song (I think, could have been Beyonce or Missy Elliot or Justin Timberlake, I don’t really know) came on and I foolishly bounced along to a couple of beats. I was just practicinng my swing out, but I didn’t shift my weight properly on the 3-And, so it probably looked like bloodlust. And my hair, don’t even ask. It had been like 4 days since my blowout.

All this to say, Bed Bath and Beyond Lady, I’m super sorry for the confusion. Thank you for the cart. And I hope you’re doing all right.




What terrifying things do people mistake you for in public?

Also: I need a better nickname for The Boyf. Any suggestions?

Let us know in the comments!


For Mor-eo Oreo:

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

How to Cry at Work, II


There’s a lot to be sad about these days. France. Baton Rouge. Whatever on earth is going to happen at the RNC this week.

Or maybe it’s closer to home and this past Tuesday instead of working on a new story you’re breaking, you sat in a small, square room and looked at a bunch of x-rays and listened to many doctors say that they don’t know exactly what is going on inside your dog, but that it is very very bad and they cannot fix it.

Sometimes shit happens. And sometimes shit happens during normal business hours. So sometimes, you’re going to have to alternate between weeping uncontrollably and answering questions about best practices for afternoon dailies.



What’s that, you say? Why not “just take the day off” or “excuse yourself if you think you’re getting emotional?” Those are great questions, but I’m a little surprised you’re asking them, Hypothetical Reader.

The Oreo Lifestyle is all about keeping people comfortable. That’s why we don’t have political hair in public (what we look like when we’re in the comfort of our own homes is our own business), why we try not to travel in packs, and why we take so much care to be chatty enough but to keep our opinions obscure AF. Hair, opinions, gangs–things keep people comfortable.

Also, no one likes to see people cry. Definitely not at work. Crying makes people uncomfortable.


So even when you have to make that one last call between morning meetings to explain to some well-meaning, but under-caffeinated intern what last steps you’d like to have taken with your dog’s body, remember to keep that stiff upper lip. And if you’re having trouble, these tips might be that little boost you need to make sure that everyone who comes by your office has a pleasant and not at all overly emotional experience.



They’re not just for Victorians anymore. What was once an accessory work to show that you were middle-aged and married could stand a chance to make a comeback. A little lace about the face is a perfect way to look trendy, travelled, and most importantly, obscured enough so that people have no idea if you’re crying or not.

They say that eye contact is important in business interaction. But not if your eyes are full of tears. Then it’s just awkward. Sure, people might have some questions if the top half of your face is covered, but at least they’re asking if you found this piece on Etsy or on vacation, and not if you need a hug.

Look how smart and not uncomfortable she looks. The fan's a nice addition, too. (source)

Look how smart and not uncomfortable she looks. The fan’s a nice addition, too.


Quick blowout

As an Oreo, you have to get your hair straightened anyway, why not do it today! With Blowouts That Come To You, you can order up emotional camouflage as easy as ordering an Uber. Call the drybar of your choice and a friendly stylist will come to your home or office to redirect your tangly locks–and the stares of others.

Instead of shellacking down your usual super-straight ‘do, try something with a little bit of movement. A swoop of bangs across your face will hide your weepy eyes; and you’ll spend so much effort constantly brushing your hair out of your damn face so you can see for one minute that you’ll exhaust all those energy stores and won’t have the strength to cry anymore.

What is Reese Witherspoon thinking in this windy day? Could be anything, really. What a fun mystery! (source)

What is Reese Witherspoon thinking in this windy day? Could be anything, really. What a fun mystery!



If you can’t hide your physical face, you can always blame something else for you making everyone wish they hadn’t swung by your desk without knocking first. No, not the cruel hand of fate that really fucked with your week, but some stray ingredient in whatever you last ate. Leaking eyes? It’s not emotions that are causing it, but maybe strawberries or melon or codeine or whatever.

Yup, just something I ate

Yup, just something I ate


Just let people know that you were careless in your lunch choice and they’ll get on with their day happily thinking that you’re getting on with yours.


Or, you could just be vulnerable for one second and let people know what’s really happenin—I’m sorry. This is clearly not one of the choices. Get outta here, Hypothetical Reader, you’re not allowed to type.


Here’s to having a better week…and to you, you crazy dog. You could be a real motherfucker, but the person I love the most loved you the most. So I really wish you were still here.


And if you’re not having a better week, here’s to looking like you are!

Lady Mary 4

Need a few more tips to bury your blubbering? Then check out Part 1 of this series.

What are your favorite tips for hiding your feelings when you’re in front of other human people? Let us know in the comments!


For Mor-eo Oreo:

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

This Summer

With the Fourth of July hangover finally wearing off, your Solstice reading of A Midsummer Night’s Dream behind you, and your longbow freshly waxed to draw in solidarity with the teams in Rio in August, it’s clear that summer is here!!


The long warm days set the stage for all kinds of amazing activities for you and your summer-weight plaid to get up to. You might enjoy a nice turn about a topiary tour, relaxing at a regatta, or other activities that alliterate appealingly.

But as an Oreo, there is something you simply must do this summer:

Don’t Go Outside, Please.

Yes, the days are warm and lovely. But there’s no reason you can’t enjoy that beautiful summer sky from the inside of your French doors.

Sure, the waters on the Cape are just perfect. But why not take this time to host a slide show of your past exploits! That way, you get the joy of the memory without the risk of death sunburn.

And of course, you will be missed at the Equestrian Center, but with your friends Snapchatting you every Piaffe and Counter Canter it’s like you’re there.

Seriously, please don’t leave the house. Just… lock the door and stay in there.

There really is no reason to head away from your living room. No need to get into your car or head to a convenience store for any single thing. Between Postmates and Amazon, anything you need can come to you. Whether you want to nosh on some chicken salad on white bread or grab yourself a re-stringed badminton racquet, the Internets will make it so. And you can enjoy the whole thing from your claw-footed tub or Jonathan Adler couch while enjoying your Wes Anderson retrospective.


For the love of all that is holy, just stay home.

A season indoors will also give you time to finish all that needlepointing from the holiday, write some bang-up fundraising letters for charity, alphabetizing your Restoration Hardware catalogues, and making sure you know all the words to She Loves Me.

#janekrakowskiismyspiritanimal #dowestillusetheprasespiritanimal #ismygenxshowing

#janekrakowskiismyspiritanimal #dowestillusethephrasespiritanimal?

Plus, staying home will give you plenty of time to craft non-offensive facebook replies to perfectly reasonable questions like:

  • Well, he did have a gun.
  • Well, he did have a record.
  • Well, his right arm wasn’t subdued.
  • Well, don’t you think AllLivesMatter hashtag?
  • Well, why not just stop resisting?
  • Well, what about black-on-black crime? I mean, Detroit??
  • Well, why would you be afraid? Don’t do anything wrong and you’ll be fine, right?

Truly, inside is just going to be your best bet for a while.

Fall will come soon and long sleeves, long pants, and turtlenecks will make the streets safe again.

Until then, my darlings.




Need someone to keep you company for the rest of the season? What are you going to be doing with your alone time? Reach out here or at any of the links below and let us know!

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

Red Crossed

A lot of people were concerned this week when the Red Cross, an organization dedicated to public health initiatives and to building at least one house in Haiti, was found to have produced this public safety announcement.



Curious as to what the problem was?

The poster’s goal is to show kids that there are 2 types of behaviour at a public pool. There’s “cool” behaviour such as waiting for the diving board like a little debutant stretching a hamstring before the talent portion of the competition. And there’s “uncool” behaviour like well, according to this poster, being brown.

Internets wer quick to point out that all the kids demonstrating “cool” behaviour were flesh-colored (if we’re using the Crayola naming convention) and almost all of the kids demonstrating “not cool” behavior were brown colored. No kids of brown were pictured to be demonstrating “cool” behaviour.

Red Cross ended up apologizing and asking that pools who hung up the poster take it down immediately.

Look, is the Red Cross racist? Probably not. I mean, they built that nice singular house for all those people in Haiti. A racist wouldn’t do something like that. Let’s not get overly PC about this.

Casting choices aside, there are actually plenty of things to be offended by in this picture, though. And these issues deserve all the Twitter outrage.



Those lifeguards

They’re not allowed to join a union.

They’ve worked there forever. They’ve saved lives. And when they asked their boss about some organization to their organization, their boss hung up a  memo that was all: “We’ve committed to you, we expect the same kind of commitment from you. Just as we didn’t ask you to sign contracts preventing you from taking freelance pool work, we’d like to ask you not to ask us sign something that will make it difficult for us to continue our working relationship.”



That water

Three words: They. Still. Use. Chlorine.

Have they never heard of salt water? It’s like they don’t even care about the planet or saving money on maintenance.


That cool dad with his baby

He has to pay alimony to his ex-wife indefinitely because even though she makes more money than he does, her income is mostly off the books, so no one can prove a thing.


That dolphin sitting on the fence.

She didn’t get paid for a speaking role because someone else provided the voice balloon copy which technically means that dolphin didn’t speak. This a technicality that allows Big Pamphlet to continue to profit while working class artists suffer.


That pair of interracial synchronized swimmers

She makes like 15% less than he does for the same effort. And they have the same agent. And she won’t listen to any of us when we’re like “you need new representation. Your partner should be standing up for you!!” She’s always like “but I just love the craft. It’s not about the money.” And we’re like “yeah, but your student loans!” And she’s always “You just need to meet him.” And then we’re like “Whatever. Well, we’ll be here for you when you change your mind but for now, we don’t know how to be supportive of this. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends. In fact, it means we’re better friends than he is.”


Frankly, the racial profiling is the worst of this poster’s problem.

What do you think? How does this poster hurt your feelings? Let us know in the comments!



For Mor-eo Oreo:

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

5 Thoughts on Orlando

I’ve had a hard time trying to put into words how I’ve been feeling and what I’ve been thinking since the news broke of the horrible events in Orlando. I’ve been especially lost for words about reading today that the Senate couldn’t agree on at least one of four measures to bring some sense to this madness. I don’t know if this quite captures what’s been roaming around in my brain. But here’s my best shot.


1. FUCK!!

Are you serious?! Is this really–? Are we really–??!  All those people who– people just having a good time and–?!?!?? Fuck.


How many of these do we have to–?! I mean this is like–!! Why can’t we learn something SOMETHING–!!?? As a nation we really can’t–?!?!?


So the upshot is that none of it makes sense? And that nobody’s going to –?!? Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

4. Jesus Christ

We’re seriously about to argue over stupid politics instead of getting two shits about real solutions??! And people are fine with that–?! While all these families just have to–?! Christ.

5. Fuck.

Well at least these people can actually speak to this. In a way that hopefully encourages more people to listen. Watch them…..

…and then use this links to contact your reprsentatives to do something. Because Fuck. This.


Want to know how they voted on gun control? Here you go.

Not sure what to ask them to do? Here are a couple of templates I found to be helpful.

And here’s a link to a slide show that really helped me understand more about the ‘other side’ in a way that was informative, without emotion, and helpful to make sure I was using the right words in the right way. Yes, the site is pro-gun, but it also contains a lot of data that I think is worth understanding if one is to push for changes.

Be safe, friends.








A Matter of Tactical, Practical Brilliance or: How to Listen to Hamilton as an Oreo

The musical Hamilton is an amazing, wonderful, terrific…conundrum for an Oreo.

How does a belter Oreo daughter of a hermit and a
an alto dropped in the middle of a
confusing spot in the zeitgeist by providence,
with confidence in her voice
Grow up inside this moment and make the right choice

I’ll tell ya, it’s tricky.

One one hand, Hamilton is a Broadway musical–a totally Oreo-Approved genre of music. I think the only thing typically whiter than a Broadway musical is my singer/songwriter station on Pandora (don’t you take my Rich Voisine away from me). This is the same genre that gave us anglo tastic pieces like Spring Awakening, Little Shop of Horrors, and The Jazz Singer. Hamilton fits squarely into this genre, so for that reason it’s a great listening choice for an Oreo.

I would enter every room like this if I could.

I would enter every room like this if I could.

On the other hand, Hamilton is mostly made of rap.

But on another hand, Hamilton discusses some nice, dry Waspy dinner conversation topics: the Founding Fathers, the Treasury, best practices in shipping and receiving.

On the other hand, it’s mostly made of rap.

On yet a different hand, Hamilton is a totally hipster hero. He’s angsty, he got wealthy, but was still all bitter about shit. He had a great wife, but also dumb commitment issues. And look at that long curlyish hair. He defs rocked the man bun.


"What? You've never had a pickleback? Ugh. Yea, it's small batch craft beer followed by a shot of homemade dill brine. Which you have, right?"

“What? You’ve never had a Pickleback? Ugh. Yea, it’s batch craft beer followed by a shot of small batch homemade dill brine. Which you have, right? No? Whatever, I’ll just have this absinthe.” –Alexander Hamilton

On the other hand, remember how much you loved loved LOVED Rent when it came out and you sat at home with your CD and ripped the book out of the jewel case and learned all the words and cried every time Mimi said “Goodbye Love!” and then you saw it like 15 years later and even though you were super stoked that Adam Pascal touched you on the shoulder when you met him backstage, you were like “this play isn’t as great as I remember and why don’t these folks maybe just get a part-time something at The Container Store or Chipotle or sign up with a temp agency until they can get back on their feet?” Yeah, think about that and the fact that Hamilton is mostly made of rap.


It was a special time, Adam, but you know the rules. One and done. We can no longer speak of that glorious day.

It was a special time, Adam, but you know the rules. One and done. We can no longer speak of that glorious day.


But Hamilton is also catchy, it’s fun, it’s infectious, and it’s not going anywhere. And since you love showtunes, you have no choice but to listen to it constantly. So an Oreo’s got to figure out a way to listen to it without being all RBP about it.

Because let’s be real a second. –for just a millisecond. Let your guard they’ll see you spit a million beats per second. And that’s gonna change how they see you. No longer will you be a very special unicorn, you’re gonna be just like Leticia over there. With her braids and self-confidence. Hashtag, uncomfortable. So here are a few ways that you can enjoy this moment in musical history, but still keep yourself in good standing as an Oreo.


Look, we all have those things that we do when no one else is looking. And we’re totally okay with it. You’re not mad that no one sees you cut your toenails by using your other toenails. So there’s no reason not to play dumb at Karaoke and stick to your Carrie Underwood and Disney Princess songs instead of jumping in when the group goes all Guns and Ships on you. When you get back in your car, and far away from they prying eyes of people who know you, you can crank up Ten Duel Commandments in case you need to remember what to do if anyone claims they think you know how to flow.

Via King George or Eliza

There are a few songs in this show that don’t involve rap. If you must quote the show in front of other, do it with these tunes. That Would Be Enough or the many reprisals of You’ll Be Back capture great moments in the show without having to be all ethnic with their wordplay. An untrained ear might even think you’re singing Sondheim or Schwartz. Choose these songs and you won’t feel so embarrassed that you wonder if your hot blushing cheeks will buuuuuuuurrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnn!


If you can afford the $15,002,389,047,208,093,790 dollar tickets, you are 1%ing the shit out of life right now and have definitely achieved some serious Oreo status. Also, please be my best friend. I don’t love touching, but I’m a bangup pet sitter!


Ohmygod, let’s talk about Hamilton! What’s your favorite song? Where were you the first time you heard the show? Do you think it’s cute and just a tiny bit scary the way Lin-Manuel squeezes his elbows into his ribs every time he gets on a roll.


Let us know in the comments!




For Mor-eo Oreo:

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

[Insert Obligatory Pun about Hair Here] or: This Oreo is terrible at coming up with titles for things she writes

Earlier this week, folks were bummed that this one particular episode of a show called Winx Club aired on Nickelodeon. Wink Club is a cartoon made in Italy back in the 00’s and Nickelodeon apparently airs episodes of it today. As far as I can tell from the very minimal amount of Wikipedia-ing I was willing to do, Winx Club is the fever dream of a very old gnome wherein he sees his soul separated from his body and dispersed into the forms of four orphans who belong to a you-can’t-cut-your-hair cult who escape their pain by taking psychedelic drugs so that they can escape into an allegorical world of their dreams where they exist as fairies.

That or it’s a bunch of girls who discover they have superpowers and train at a facility for gifted youngsters. But not ~that~ facility for gifted youngsters. They’re in a different district and they don’t have a voucher program.

Anyway, Winx Club became facebook-relevant this week when an episode aired that featured this scene. Please do enjoy:

In the event that this video expires or you don’t have audio or you just want to get to the point, here’s what happens in the clip.

The brown colored Winx sobs uncontrollably because her normally straight hair puffed up into the shape of an afro and she can’t get it to be straight again. Her friends poke at it a bit. It bounces. They all agree that this is the worst thing that could have happened and I can only assume they spend the rest of the episode getting this girls’ hair to straighten out before the Old Gnome wakes up and discovers he is still paralyzed inside the cave and that his life has not changed and never will.

People were upset about this clip because they said it promoted the idea that natural black hair isn’t acceptable. That this few minutes of Italian animation is suggesting that you can’t be attractive if your hair hasn’t been drybarred out within an inch of it’s life. They think that this show is sending the wrong message.

But look, that girl probably spent a crap ton of money and like hours of her time in some chair to get her shit straight. I’d cry, too if it all went back overnight. Tears are a totally reasonable reaction when your $200 afternoon gets thrown away because someone decides not to air out the humid bathroom after a hot shower. You’re not getting those 4 hours of your life back, so you know what, be in your truth and allow yourself to feel a wee bit miffed if a sustained session of pain turned out to be for nothing because the sky decided to rain that day.

That being said, I do the show is sending the wrong message…or at least a wrong message. This clip suggests that upon seeing your natural hair, people will make like a few snide comments and then walk away. I beg to differ.

Recently, I failed to time my hair regimen properly and for two whole days, my hair was as grey and natural looking as it gets…and I had the audacity to leave the house.



During this time, two grown men interrupted me during meetings–at work where we are employed–to tell me and everyone sitting nearby that “awwww, they liked it better before.” And I had to tap dance around people who were basically strangers saying: “Okay, listen… I’ve alllllways wanted to know. What IS the deal with your hair?” several more times before the half week was out.

(And as you know, Oreos do not like tap dancing. We much prefer an Allemande, a promenade, or a Cheshire Cat Life if you have a partner handy.)

Those two days reminded me that upholding the Oreo standards of straight hair isn’t just a way to look nice in the obligatory Women In The Workplace!!! photo your company forces you to be a part of because publicity. Nor is is just a neato way of making sure you’re at least not one of the first ones into the camps during the Trump presidency. Keeping your hair unnaturally straight also allows you to move through your day relatively unnoticed. You blend in, so you’re able to pull those schedules off the copier in peace. Stand out by having statement hair and it can make the day just a lot longer.

But let’s say that you’re like me and you make an honest mistake in scheduling so that you do in fact have to force people to look at your natural looks. First, apologize. Then, take this quiz to see how you would respond to the most common things you’ll get asked should your hair get all Roots on you.




They say: Sooooo is this like your natural, natural hair. Like your hair how it really is?
You say:

A. Yes pal-o-mine, this is the hair that God gave me growing in the way God intended in the country that God wove together with his bare hands.
B. Ugh, it is and I hate it.
C. Did you get your ticket yet to The Little Mermaid Live at the Bowl?




They say: Have you seen that Chris Rock documentary Good Hair? That was really amazing. I was like blown away. Totally shocked.
You say:

A. I did see Good Hair and I am happy that you are bringing it up now during this production meeting.
B. Why would I need to watch Good Hair? It’s about black hair. I have black hair. Not exactly news to me.
C. Who’s Chris Rock? Would you say his documentary style is more like Herzog or Brakhage?




They say: You know, if I could have black hair, I totally would. It’s so cool and fun!
You say:

A. That is a sincere compliment that doesn’t make me feel like a weird fettishized object at all.
B. Would you also like the higher statistical likelihood of being profiled on NextDoor or getting a worse rate on an auto loan that goes along with that cool and fun hair?
C. Could you hold my ballet slippers for me one sec, I just need to score the soles and I dropped my nail file.


They say: Wait, so, your hair right now… it’s real?
You say:

A. Are your boobs?
B. Are your teeth?
C. Should I wear my Members Only jacket or my Eddie Bauer fleece to the Coldplay concert at that craft cocktail and tapas bar tonight?


They say: Do you really not like it when people touch your hair? I love it when people touch mine. So relaxing. Feels like childhood
You say

A. Yaaaas Kween! I am so happy that you are soliciting my opinion and I shall reward with with one free pet.
B. This isn’t really about you. This is about my boundaries and personal space. And frankly, I don’t really like it when anyone touches me anywhere ever.
C. When I buy the title at auction, do you think I should choose the Lordship of Pitstone Neyrnut or the Barony of Duleek?** The Baroney comes with better mineral rights, but holy goodness, is just so beautiful this time of year.




If you answered mostly As, you might think you’re being a good Oreo as you’re not fighting back or running from the conversation, which helps make people feel comfortable. (And Oreos are nothing if not pleaser). But you’re also allowing the conversation to continue. A skilled Oreo can both let people feel OK with their awkward questions, but also shut that shit down toute suite.

If you answered mostly Bs., you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog as you are super comfortable with your blackness and that’s not really what we do here. Nothing against RPBs, but I just don’t have any 40s on offer. Month-old gin is about the closest thing I can pour.

If you answered mostly C, congratulations! You are Oreoing perfectly! Such a deft little dance we do, smiling and laughing, while gently escorting the conversation away from company and into the library for brandy and a subject change.


What do you think about the clip above? A harmless episode of TV not many people probably watched? Or a few minutes of film that could actually do damage to young self esteems? On a scale of 1-10 how fast would you change your hair if something tragic happened to it–rogue gardening shears, torrential downpour of tar, roots?

Let us know in the comments!

**Real titles that are actually available at auction right now! If you’d like to sponsor an Oreo’s life long dream of titledom, I have a copula links I can send you. Just let me know! 


For Mor-eo Oreo:

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