So I went karaokeing last week and really did try to sing something normal…but then defaulted to showtunes, natch. Off my friends’ requests I have tried to get some regular songs in my repetoir…but they’re confusing. Like is “What’s My Name?” (Rhianna ft. Drake) as misogynistic as I first thought it was, or is it a sneaky feminist rant that Erica Jong would be proud of?
Lemme know what you think!
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
The next five days are dangerous ones for Oreos. Today is the second day of Kwanzaa and the “holiday” doesn’t end until Jan. 1.
Kwanzaa, or “a celebration of family, community and culture” (according to its website), began long ago was invented in 1966 by Dr. Maulana Karenga (who lives in Chatsworth, CA, btw). The day is meant to celebrate (according to the website) the “best of being African and human). And to be fair, Ngoza Saba–or seven principles of Kwanzaa are actually not that bad. Who couldn’t use a little unity, self-determination, collective work and responsibility, collective economics, purpose, creativity and faith?
But look at it. It’s obviously suuuuuuper black and makes people as uncomfortable as they are when they realize that Christmas carols are really on the nose and don’t mince words about that whole Jesus Christ business.
So a good Oreo must take care to avoid any semblance of having any ties to the holiday. Here are some ways to make sure your end of year is Oreo-tastic and Kwanzaa free!
1. Always have at least a small blanchetourage in tow. This goes without saying as Oreos are always in the company of their white friends. But during Kwanzaa, it is doubly important to be flanked by some non-colors so that no one accidentally offers you a slice of benne cake or dollop of okra.
2. Avoid wearing red, green and black and/or any combination thereof. These three colors are the ones used in the kinara — the Kwanzaa menorah. Decorating your space or person with these colors is just asking for trouble. As is wearing clothes with complicated patterns that might be mistaken for African clothing. Instead, try some nice pastels or the colors from your yacht club’s crest or your family’s tartan.
3. Replace tapered candles with tea candles. The kinara is traditionally filled with long, tapered candles. Regardless of color, take the ones from your centerpieces out and replace them with smaller, less suspicious candles.
4. Keep real menorahs on display. This may seem contrary to the advice above, but it will give you a great opportunity to see if your other Oreo efforts are working. If they are working, guests will immediately recognize the candles correctly. If not, they may ask you if you are celebrating Kwanzaa. While this will sting, it will also remind you to keep that black in check.
5. Should the worst happen, confront it with a smile. If someone does stop you on the street and wish you a good Kwanzaa, do not lash out at them or cry. That will be confusing. Instead, say something like, “Oh, is it Kwanzaa, I just got back from wintering in Banff and I had no idea.” They’ll get the point.
Finally, should someone give you a Kwanzaa gift, do keep it. It’s rude to refuse. You can always return it for a nice table wine or Criterion Collection version of Gone With The Wind.
For more ways to get out of tricky situations, check out this post on eating chicken, this one on saying the n-word, or this one on how to save face when you’re face to face with another Oreo.
What are some holiday traditions–either celebrated en masse or by your own family that you love/can’t stand? Let us know in the comments!
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I love how exercise makes you love and hate yourself simultaneously. On one hand--yay physical activity. On the other--boo, I need more physical activity!
Gym activities can be trick territory for an Oreo. On one hand, RBP are pretty athletic–I’ve seen sports games!
On the other hand, there are a few classes available at most gyms where an Oreo can be in safe company: Belly dancing, gymnastics, hot yoga, Tough Mudder training and spin classes to name a few.
I was in spin class last night and having a great time cycling to Pink, MCR, Daft Punk and a little Blue Man Group.
And then they started the uphills.
For those unfamiliar with spin classes, here’s how it goes. You strap your feet into a stationary bike that has an evil crank on the low bar part. Depending on which direction you crank the crank, you will either add resistance or take it away. The instructor leads you through a routine designed to mimic different types of bike riding environments. Less resistance and lots of RMPs and you’re speeding along a highway. More resistance and fewer RPMs and you’re headed up a mountain.
And that’s where things got wonky.
At one point during that uphill, I had so much resistance on that I had to move my body to get the pedals to go. Suddenly, I my upper body was bouncing in time to a rhythm. My shoulders were dipping in a really hip hoppy sort of way. My torso was twisting with each bounce and it looked like a dip and step. And with the way I had to whip my head back and forth to distract myself from the burning in my quads, I might as well have been an extra in a Rhianna video. 😦 *sigh*
Luckily, I’m headed out to get my box step on at Lindy Groove (an LA swing dance club/event) tonight!
And this isn’t the first revelation I’ve had during spin class. Check out this post to see what else goes through my head on that bike. Or this post to see why the wrong dance moves can be disastrous. Or this post to see what happened the time I actually tried to dance.
I’m also seriously considering doing an endurance race next year. Tough Mudder might be a bit too tough–they run through a field of live wires–but I’d like to try something. What do you think? If you’ve done one, tell us what it’s like! What is the most interesting physical thing you’ve endured? Let us know in the comments!
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Don't eff with Thor. You don't want to see him angry!
As we’ve pointed out here, movie, if anything, are totally true to life. So it stands to reason that the Council of Conservative Citizens has their white sheet undies all in a bunch because Hollywood has done the unthinkable! Nope, it’s not that they’ve made the Yogi Bear movie or Little Fockers. It’s worse. They’ve made Heimdall black.
Everyone knows Heimdall, right? He’s the Norse god who can hear grass growing and leaves falling. The one who will sound the Gjallarhorn, alerting the æsir to the onset of Ragnarök where the world ends and is reborn. Oh, and he’s also called “the white god.” And he’s being played by blacktor Idris Elba.
Said the CoCC:
“It [is] well known that Marvel is a company that advocates for leftwing ideologies and causes,” the site reads. “Marvel frontman Stan ‘Lee’ Lieber boasts of being a major financier of leftwing political candidates. Marvel has viciously attacked the Tea Party movement, conservatives and European heritage.
“Now they have taken it one further, casting a black man as a Norse deity in their new movie Thor. Marvel has now inserted social engineering into European mythology.”
On one hand, as an Oreo, I’m totes jealous that Idris Elba is cast to play “the white god”! What an Oreo coup! I’ve sung “Popular” from Wicked at karaoke for years and have yet to land a role for a blonde.
On the other hand, as an Oreo, I’m totes bothered. If directors like Kenneth Branagh continue to fly in the face of reality and give roles to of color actors that allow them to speak in lofty poetry instead of rap and live in the sky instead of the hood…what does that mean for the Oreo? If Hollywood just starts giving parts out willy nilly to talented actors without first vetting them based on race, how will the Oreo know what to avoid to not seem so, you know, black?
And the CoCC has some good points. (If you want a real fun afternoon, btw, check out their website!) Heimdall clearly wasn’t mean to be black. He’s a Norse god, hello! So it’s good that apart from Elba, all the other actors are ethnically correct. Like the Celtic New Zealander Chris Hemsworth who plays Thor, or the Welsh Anthony Hopkins who plays Odin, the Irish Ray Stevenson who plays Volstagg.
Yup, all Norse– wait, what?
It’s a relief to note, btw, the other true-to-life elements of Thor remain in tact. Like how Thor’s hammer flies from nowhere to his hands whenever he clicks his fingers. So it stands to reason why the CoCC was so upset…the movie was so close. So. Very. Close.
Obviously, the CoCC has a lot of boycotting to do! Here’s their email form if you’d like to get in touch with them to show your support. If you do…let me know what they say.
So, in case anyone thought I didn’t come by my Oreoness honestly, here’s a (badly scanned) photo of me from college…dressed up in a corset…at a Renaissance Fair…that I performed in every year.
Keep in mind that when this photo was taken, I was also a flute performance major with a French minor.
Though I came by my Oreo-ness honestly (what choice did I have when my mom was an accountant, Dad was a chemical engineer and they listened to more NPR than Nat
Being brown's tough, but he makes the most of it.
King Cole), my decision to set aside ethnicity was solidified when I started watching movies and TV. On screen, the non-colors looked like they led such more intersting lives than of colors!
And movies today don’t let me down! Even from the trailers, you can totes tell how much more exciting it is when you can shed your melanin!
How Do You Know – Reese Witherspoon can’t figure out what she wan–My GOD, Paul Rudd is handsome
Tron: Legacy – Man Finds Himself Through Video Games
I suppose it makes sense. This is a movie about a guy who goes inside of a video game. They’re already asking us to suspend our disbelief pretty heavily. Let’s not muddy it up by having of colors inside that video game. It’s make believe, not complete crazytown.
Yogi Bear – Hmm, didn’t realize there was a market for this film.
Wow! Even a talking bear with an eating disorder and boundary issues has more fun than of colors. It’s clear which life I’d rather have. Here’s to resolving to be an even better Oreo next year!
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The evening started off so well! An exclusive invitation to a private party in the Beverly Hills, a private valet company, a shuttle ride up to the front door because the driveway was just that long, open bar, truffle oil…an Oreo’s dream! I didn’t check the list, but I was pretty sure I would be the only or one of just a few of colors there.
Just getting in the door without wearing the catering company’s uniform was probably proof enough of my Oreo-ness, but in a discussion about pets wearing clothes, I dropped a few lines about how my horse was very upset to be costumed as a bee for Halloween just for good measure.
Half an hour in and I hadn’t seen another person of color, so I knew I was in good company…
…and then we were sat at our tables.
It was all place-card seating like at a wedding. I saw my name calligraphied on a card and walked toward it and saw a chilling sight.
Four other of colors walking toward the same table. And not to bus the plates or refill the water.
As we all sat down, I looked around the room.
Apparently, I was sat at the black table.
Another black table.
There were two other black people at the party and they were sat at tables where they were the only ones. But here was I, surrounded by of colors. Didn’t they know who I was?? I was told that we were sat at tables where we would likely have things in common with the other people. What, I wonder, might the five of us be expected to connect over?
To reclaim my standing as a good self-loathing Oreo, I made mention of how much I admired a painting on the other side of the room. It was a cheerful, brightly colored depiction of black people picking cotton. Saying that I liked this piece made it pretty clear that I wasn’t a regular black person as an RBP might ask the question of WTF was going through that rich white woman’s mind when she decided that she needed to buy a cartoon of slaves and hang it in her dining room.
But before I could form that question, I was distracted by the painting that hung on the wall just beside me–over the black table.
It was a painting of a watermelon slice.
Sigh. Sometimes even the best Oreo is lost for words.
And I should have known…I’ve gotten in trouble for not checking the roster before. I’ve also been duped by fancy parties before. Hmm, things to do for the new year—create Oreo Party Survival Guide…or maybe just get comfortable in my own skin…nah, we’ll go with the survival guide!
Luckily, there was enough fois gras and Scandinavian holiday pictures to share to distract me until it was time to take the shuttle back down to my car where I reflected not on how oddly placed the pictures were…but more on how being rich looks really effing awesome. A sidewalk to front door shuttle? Really? C’mon!
I can almost see their house from here!
What kind of party would you throw with unlimited funds? Do you have any art at home that might be suspect? Let us know in the comments.
Hey look, it’s me throwing a Christmas party!…just in case you haven’t had the chance to see it yet. 😉
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I wonder if this restauranteur would have understood.
Dear Diary,
I guess I had it coming.
I did break an Oreo rule and consent to having a late night dinner at the RBP hangout Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. But I was in the company of four non-colors, I thought I was safe. I thought for sure that everyone would see me for who and what I really am.
Sam, Chris and Steve parked first and put our names in at the door. At Roscoe’s, you cannot take a table until all members of your party are there. I was still looking for a parking space with Jason, so we were the two lagging behind.
(Ugh! That means I was late–another RBP thing! Man was I off my game)
Jason and I finally got to the door and Sam went up to the host.
“Our party’s all here now.”
The boys stood in a semi-crescent shape and I was standing in the middle of them, feeling safe and secure and protected by my blanchetourage.
The host looked me right in the eye, pointed at me, smiled and motioned for me to come towards him.
“And what party are you with? How many are you?”
I looked back to the boys, dumbfounded…and then I realized.
He didn’t think I was an Oreo hanging out with comedians after a late night show. He thought I was…an RBP, waiting to go inside and meet more of colors for a late night transfat celebration.
Luckily Sam came to the rescue, as I was too shocked to speak, and answered for me.
“She’s with us. Like I said, we’re all here now.”
The gears slowly turned in the host’s head, but he finally got it. Just in case he was still unclear, I did ask him where the “loo” was and if he knew how close we were to the Getty, the Museum of Modern Art and the Equestrian Center.
Working in restaurants can be really stressful–I’ve seen Hell’s Kitchen and Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares! So I suppose I can grant him some leniency. What are your best/worst restaurant experiences? Let us know in the comments!
Click here for the time I turned this sitch around to avoid a line. Or to see the time the gmail stepped over the line.
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It's "Black Swan"...not Blaaaack Swizan
Nothing makes me want to shed my ethnicity like going to the movies. Soooooo jealous of all the fun white people get to have. At the same time, however, it lets me know that be loathing the skin I’m in, I’m on the right track. I mean, I saw the trailer for For Colored Girls. Yikes! Being a Regular Black Person (RBP for the newbies) looks really hard and sad and scary and seems to make you way more likely to cut a bitch.
And I don’t want to cut any bitches.
Taking a look at the movies opening this week (and some from last since I missed an entry) to see what best firms up my commitment to being an Oreo!
Black Swan – Ballet, Portman and girl-on-girl love, oh my!
All Good Things – Ryan Gosling tries to escape his complicated, tortured past
Dead Awake -Best I can tell, there’s a mystery…and death…and skip-bleach processing
I Love you, Phillip Morris -Jim Carey looks pretty decent in briefs.
I think it’s neat that on the streets, in the courtroom and at the grocery store there are no black people. Why? Well, you see that once they get to the jail…that’s there the RBP are!
Night Catches Us – Oh look, here are some black people in a movie. Wonder what they’ll do!
Holyeffingyikes, being of color is rough and scary!
The Warriors Way – Ninjas V. Cowboys?
I tried to say some snarky stuff about this one, but it kinda looks really badass….No black people, though. And I guess, sure there weren’t too many black folks in the Old West, but there weren’t flying ninjas, either.
Why does this matter to Oreos? Well, whether we like it or not, people are very much affected by what they see on TV. It’s why advertising works. So to remind us over and over that of colors are at best marginal players and at worst criminals, it really helps those of us trying to hide our true colors find better and better hiding places.
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No, sir, you are not cute or charming...but do you wanna get a coffee or something?
I tried, I really did, but I finally came to my decision: conclusion that I do not like John Hughes movies.
While this upsets my friends who so fondly organize Pretty in Pink parties, it upsets me even more because there is little in the film canon that is as waspy as a John Hughes flick.
Lest you think I came to this decision too hastily, I have tried several movies. There was “She’s Having a Baby” which should be named “She’s Having a Baby…in the last 5 minutes of this snoozefest, don’t even bother looking for the baby in the first 180 minutes of this thing or you will be sorely disappointed.” I also managed to get through..ugh…The Breakfast Club and…wait for it, yes I don’t like this one, either. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Why don’t I like FB? Because he’s an arrogant little shit…though if you look at my dating life, it seems to indicate that I really like arrogant little shits.
But I digress…I know people are supposed to like these movies. But every plot could be summed up with this tagline:
The Breakfast Club:
“My perfectly acceptable life could be way better if I made some very minor changes, but that’s too much work and not as sexy as f*cknig brooooooooding about it.” ***
(** Judd Nelson, you’re excused from this. Kevin Bacon, you are not!)
And, yes, I do get that not all of the film and TV that I loved in my childhood holds up today. For example:
So I get why people like the JH flicks…if I had seen them for the first time(s) when I was a teen and watching Brendan Frazier’s School Daze in back to back screenings, and not a few months ago when I’m well-past the broodings, I probably would have loved them, too.
Do you like John Hughes? Anything you can suggest I watch that might change my mind? Or any childhood faves that only stand your personal test of time and don’t actually hold up?
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The Oreo Experience 