Blinding white…like the snow.
Let me explain.
My 8 year old daughter has been preparing for a school performance.
It was called:
African Dance
Preparing your child to take part in ‘African Dance’ entails the following:
1) Buying some really really OMG I’M BLIND!! bright fucking cloth
2) Cutting and somehow stitching said retina burning cloth into something resembling an African outfit that actually fits your kid
3) Listening to your child continually practice such timeless classics as:
a) “Ooonga da Boonga”
b) “Nik Nuk Be Eating My Flies”
c) “Mona luckahiki means hockey”
See #3?
The singing thing?
I heard those goddamn songs 24 x 7, my friends.
24. 7.
It was fucking magical.
Magical as in ‘God please strike me deaf‘…
…and not the ‘how the Hell did David Copperfield manage to bang Claudia Schiffer?!?!’ magical.
So, my wife went out and spent $20 on cloth that would hurt Ray Charles’ eyes.
I have no idea how many gay men’s wardrobes died to create colors this bright, but I’m sure it was a fucking slaughter.
Since neither my wife or I can sew…
(the closest thing I have to ‘working with needles’ is my constant masturbation)
…my daughter’s outfit was a conglomeration of spit, Velcro, duct tape and staples.
(just thinking now that I should probably add the doctor’s co-pay for removing the staples from her hips into the cost of the outfit)
Practiced and outfitted, we headed off to the school assembly.
Four third and fourth grade classes all sang and played the same songs.
This went on for two glorious head-pounding OH MY GOD IF I EVER GO TO GHANA I MAY SHOOT MYSELF IN THE FUCKING HEAD IF I HAVE TO CONSTANTLY LISTEN TO THIS SHIT hours.
Like I said:
Magical.
About halfway through, my mother in law looked over and said:
“Hey. There’s not one black person here.”
I look up.
No shit.
At the African Dance Assembly…
…the number of kids who may actually be of some type of African descent equaled zero.
Zilch.
Nada.
See. Of. White.
Welcome to New Hampshire.
In fact, even the two broads who taught all the kids this shit were two white lesbian chicks from Maine.
Teacher: “We should get some authentic African dance instructors to teach the children.”
Principal: “I know two white dykes in Maine that should fit the bill nicely!”
What. The fuck.
And not the good type of lesbians.
The wrinkly, hippie, Maine-looking type of lesbians.
“Maine Lesbians: Hand carving our own dildos out of pine since 1962.”
Ugh.
Two ugly old white wrinkly lesbians with unshaven pits using hand carved pine Mr. Wigglies and doing tribal screams.
I’d rather listen to that goddamn singing again than picture that.
Actually.
Maybe not.
Mental Poo 