Culture shock

I wanted to plunge my fork into my right eye by the time we were done eating.

Ya know, I can't even begin to imagine the inner turmoil...the angst...that must arise from a person being torn between being white, red-neck trailer-park trash while at the same time, wanting to be black.

It must be an awful dilemma.

And, kiddies? I'm here to tell ya that it just can't be done. Not well, anyway.

No amount of saying "axe" instead of "ask" is gonna make you a gangsta, kid. And I think "Whut UP?" is kinda outa style. True dat.

Yo' baggy pants hanging down below your asscheeks, displaying your penchant for nasty-lookin Homer Simpson boxers does NOT make you look like a rapper. It just makes you look stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Beyond stupid. Stupid squared.

There's no way in hell that anyone's gonna believe your lily-white, pimply faced, skinny-assed self is a bad boy. Forget it. Try some other persona cause that one don't work.

Oh...and I can't forget about the guy with the speech impediment. Let's just say you haven't lived until you've heard some dinky little white boy with a pre-pubescent moustache and a speech impediment tryin to talk a little jive. Or whatever they call it nowdays.

I'm tellin ya...it was international day at the Chinese buffet. Ya just can't make shit like this up.

Behind me, the two scrawny white boys and a pudgy little white girl, all tryin to be black. I swear ta gawd, her freakin cell phone rang FIVE times while we were there...she so impotent, ya know? She musta been talkin to the same person every time, 'cause all she ever said was "WhatEVAH!"

Thank gawd I didn't look back when she said it. I'm sure I'd have seen her right hand fly up, palm open, fingers splayed, every time "WhatEVAH" came outa her mouth. Then I'd have had to stab her in the eye with my fork.

In front of me...a Chinese waitress who barely speaks any English, tryin to understand a couple of Mexicans, who evidently spoke neither English OR Chinese.

Oh...OH! And the white, preppy guy with the "tribal" tattoo on his arm. I wanted to quote Carlos Mencia and ask, "Just what tribe are YOU with....Chad?"

Nilsson on the Muzak...covered by Zamfir and his pan-flute...with a Chinese twist.

It was like bein in the middle of a freakin Salvadore Dali painting.