I can’t!

I was googling totally normal things and this painting turned up and now these animals are haunting my dreams and I’m kind of okay with that.

I’ve made it my background on my desktop and my laptop. I’ve changed one or two avatars to be this thing. I’m in deep guys.

This painting is doing exactly what art is supposed to do. It’s forcing me to ask questions. Questions like:

What the effs  is wrong with that little dog on the screen left?

Why is there a Rice Krispies Treat between the plate and the oil thingy?

WHERE IS THE PERSON WHO WAS SITTING HERE?!?!? This painting is called “Exemplary Behavior,” but it’s pretty clear these dogs aren’t exemplary at all. They’re murderers. Murderers!!

So they dispatched with the person, fine, but where is the chair??? That little dog is too short to be on its hind legs. AAAUGH! They’re standing on the corpse of this diner, aren’t they?!

What did the big white dog to do become the boss of this unit?

How many regrets do you think the medium-sized tan dog on the screen right has right now?

Where is the cutlery? Ugh, that’s what they used to kill the person, isn’t it??!

Why is the sugar so close to the pork chop or chicken or whatever is on the plate?

Does Bingo in the middle there get a new golden collar bauble for every kill?

What are these dogs’ demands? They’re clearly after more than food.

Why no veg with this meal? Like not even some mushy peas or anything?

Will they be forgiven? Will they forgive me?

I know, I’m spending a lot of space dedicated to this thing, but I think it deserves it. And while all of this guy’s paintings fill me with the same sense of whimsy and menace….

Terrible dish for fish. 

Theivey AF

That plate used to contain a human baby.

…..the dogs one really steals the show. And isn’t that the kind of mad obsession you want in all of your friends? No, hmmm. Well, potatoes, tomahto, I guess.

Can someone who knows anything about art history or possession by painting explain why I love this so?

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What are you obsessed with looking at these days?

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For Mor-eo Oreo: Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)

Halloween is a great time to express your creativity and have some fun. Whether it’s decorating your house with paint-dipped gourds, organizing a walk-through maze, shucking corn at a fair, or just keeping it simple and putting on a costume, this is a great time to just do you.

It’s also that time when a bunch of people think it’s totally cool to put on blackface and wander around in public in the name of holiday fun.

As a super approachable Oreo, some of these people might come to you for advice, shading tips, and guilt assuagement. And as that Oreo, you have two choices.

1. Call them on their crazy ass behavior and unfriend them immediately.
2. I’m just kidding, you have one choice and it’s this one: Make them feel comfortable with their suspect decisions. You don’t want to rock the boat and they don’t want you to, either. (After all, those who rock the boat don’t get invited to the Mortinson’s Caroling Regatta this year and you didn’t learn the second alto part to The Huron Carol for nothing). They’re just trying to have a little fun, so stop being a dick about it.

Here is an FAQ for how to deal with the blackfaced Halloweenster in your life:

Q: Is it really racist to wear blackface for Halloween?
A: What was that? I couldn’t hear you over this fully restored phonograph playing Night on Bald Mountain.

Q: And is it any worse than sexy Scrabble?

A: Sexy Balderdash or nothing!

Q: What if you’re doing a character you like? Like you’re not doing a lynching motif, you’re just dressing up like a famous black person. Is it OK to do blackface then?
A: I’m so sorry, this fully restored 1920s Singer Sewing Machine is louder than I thought, but I really must finish this underskirt before the end of the day.

Q: I mean, isn’t this just being overly PC?
A: Really sorry again, but I forgot to oil the returns on this fully restored 1920s Remmington typewriter and I really do need to finish this set of haikus. You don’t mind if I type during this phone call do you?

Q: All good, I’m at your office door anyway. I guess what I’m asking specifically is you don’t think this costume is racist, do you?
A: JESUS!

Q: What? Oh, I get it, you think I’m Black Jesus. That’d be funny, that’d be really funny, but I’m just doing Beyonce from Lemonade. That’s why I have this bat. Isn’t this fun?
A: I don’t really know Lemonade. But the tailor who made this farthingale is really great if you want her to whip up something else for the party Saturday night.

Q: You know I broke up with Scott a few weeks ago after he cheated on me, so this is like me being all “fuck you Angela Sodaskas with the good hair.” This is cathartic for me.  Are you telling me that because I put a little tanner on, that this is actually offensive?
A: You know what I’m most looking forward to about Saturday night? The mini quiches. Oh, and Mitchell’s famous goat cheese tarts. Hashtag yum!

Q: Seriously. I’m just trying to have fun. I mean, Sandra’s wearing a Leprechaun outfit and you know who’s mad about that?
A: Did you want a scone, I was just about to toast some.

Q: Nobody, that’s who. How is that fair?
A:  You’re right. Save the carbs for Saturday. Mitchell also makes those great lemon squares.

Q: Oh hey Jordan. Great costume.  Aydrea, what do you think?
A: JESUS CHRIST!

Q: No, no, I’m not Black Jesus–but that would have been funny! I’m America’s Sweetheart Simone Biles. Can you tell this glitter leotard is giving me a wedgie?
A: ..um…

Q: Oh, come on. You’re not one of those people who’s like “ugh, your costume’s offensive because you covered your whole body in blackface” are you?
A: I would never say that.

Q: I know. You’re always so chill. Why can’t everyone be like you?
A: I’ve read the manual a LOT of times. Like really a bunch of times. Takes some real dedication. And a lot of people have families, so it’s hard to carve out the necessary hours.

Q: Have you seen Geoff’s costume? I think he really knocked it out of the park. Hey Geoff come over here!
A: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!

Q: Hahaha! I thought you’d think I was do Black Jesus. But no, I’m not Black Jesus. I’m a Black Lives Matter protester.
A: …

Q: You get it, right?
A: I’m so sorry, it’s really hard to hear you over the sound of me breaking these fully restored vintage China plates, but the smashing action is making it possible for me to not break my own fingers and face. Can we maybe touch base about this a little later?

Q: Sure! You going to the party Saturday?
A: I wouldn’t miss those tarts for the world.

Do you need a little help keeping that stiff upper lip? Here are some more helpful How-tos!

• If You Can’t Say Something Nice, Make This Face Instead
• Sexy Oreo Costumes
• Need to school your friend/officemate/parent on their terrible costume? Here’s a primer for How to Say Uncomfortable Things.

And hey! Here’s The Oreo Experience having some Halloween fun with references that are surely as timely today as they were in 2011. Also that costume totally still fits… totally.

What’s the best (and or worst) costume you’ve seen so far? What are you dressing up as? Send us your pics and let us know in the comments! 

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For Mor-eo Oreo: Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)

Did this a while ago and thanks to some fundamental misunderstandings on my part of how technology works, am just now realizing that no one has seen it. Please enjoy!

Sadly, this isn’t the first time this has happened, check out me leading people on in weird ways here.

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For Mor-eo Oreo: Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)

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.

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:

• Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
• Like us on facebook!
• And subscribe on youtube!

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.

Veils

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)

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)

Allergies

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

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!

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!

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For Mor-eo Oreo:

• Follow The Oreo Experience on Twitter (@oreoexperience)
• Like us on facebook!
• And subscribe on youtube!

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 #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.

Xoxox

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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!

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