Thursday, March 23, 2017

WHITE FOLKS CHOW MEIN

Just had a long discussion on the internet about the term "gender fluidity". Which, given that I am "gender settled" or whatever it's presently called, is a term I had heretofore never heard. Gender is like glass; technically it's a liquid. Or something. And there are several terms I must not ever use.

Including the useful phrase "fo shizzle"
Because I am not Snoop Dog.
Not even close.

In that I am white, middle aged, darn foxy looking, don't wear shades, and have a small neatly trimmed beard, I must grudgingly concede the point.
But in many other respects I am very much like him.
Honest.

And "fo shizzle" is off colour only if you think it is. Other than that, it's perfectly clean. You could even say it in church.

Fo shizzle.


Now, having been distracted by the long conversation about pourable sex identities, which also included mention of breast enlargements, it is far too late to go find a plate of something for which I have a real taivah.
Which was already throbbing when I got home.
It's gotten worse in the interval.
Chow mein.

Almost everywhere in Chinatown is closed already.

The only Chinese places still open at this hour serve chow for white folks and drunkards. And who the heck wants to eat that?!?

Fo shizzle.


Yeah, I could make it myself.
But someone else is using the kitchen right now.
She's cooking up bulbes and stuff for her boyfriend Wheelie Boy, and apparently my presence would cramp her style or put a curse on the fellow's delicate digestive system, or something.
My shadow over his food is bad juju.
I cannot go in there.
Fo shizzle.

Nothing for it but to eat some low fat Greek yoghurt.
I'll cook up a plate of chowmein later.
Probably after midnight.

Maybe a slice of pizza somewhere?


Probably can't use the term "white folks chow mein" either. It's undoubtedly racist, whitesplanatory, cultural appropriationist, narrow-minded, hurtfull, and triggering. Fo 你嘅 shizzle.




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