the champ, before his morning toast

although i don’t have any 2520′s in my immediate circle, i’ve had more than a few white acquaintances, co-workers, f-buddies, and i even know a few people who have a couple white friends. when you combine this information with the fact that i’ve attended predominately white schools my entire life, it’s apparent that i’m a white person expert. i know white people. if “white people” were “crack”, i’d be jojo hailey. if “knowing white peoples habits” were “lazy ass music”, i’d be “jockin effing jay-z”.

although this expertise has proven to be extremely valuable when creasing khaki’s or watching “the house of payne“, in no other way has it helped me as much as it has when comparing and contrasting the habits of young whites with us (“us” being, “american black people” or “north american n*ggas”…whichever you prefer)

now, it’s common knowledge among us that white people admire and emulate much of the sh*t that we bring to the table. from our music and our women, to our “cool” and justin slayer, there’s a multitude of sh*t born in our community that continue to inspire adulation and envy. yet, as i continue to observe the actions and general mores of our paled skinned brethren, i realize that there are a few aspects of their behavior that i admire as well.

today, in true vsb.com fashion, the champ will discuss one “typically white” behavior that could prove to be extremely benefical to us and our dating selves if we chose to adopt it. of course, i’m referring to…

…their ability to have unadulterated and unpretentious fun.

***sidenote: the champ realizes that he is making many blanket generalizations, but is only doing so because he feels that he needs to use some hyperbole to get his point across. if you have a bit of an issue with the subject matter, please try to remember that even though the champ is a virulent racist, sexist, homophobe, and jingoist he’s fair.***

to expound a bit, here is a list of things a typical “north american n*gga” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—perfect music. in this case, “perfect” describes a certain type of music that must be played and the percentage of time devoted to the playing of said music. what defines “perfect” varies from person to person, but unless the music at the establishment falls within 85 percent of that persons personal perfect music quota, the experience will not be seen as favorable

—a favorable male to female ratio

—a favorable number of cute-to-bagable/bangable members of the opposite sex

—a slight to moderate level of intoxication

—favorably priced (or free) access to their favorite intoxicant

—favorable “outside clothes”, an outfit which allows one to moderately stand out without looking like they spent 70 minutes plotting exactly what to wear

—a favorable number of like-minded comrades accompanying them

here is a list of things a typical “white person” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—oxygen (and this is negotiable)

case in point: i live in shadyside, an area of the burgh filled with the type of white people parodied at stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. i can’t even leave my apartment without tripping over a prius or an american apparel skinny tie. basically, a perfect place to bag drunken, liberal, snizzles continue my observations.

anyway, last saturday, a couple young women who live below me (ha!) decided to grill some chicken and swine, setting up shop in a somewhat shaded section of our parking lot, an area which can’t be any larger than 150 square feet. not exactly the optimum place for a party, right? well, that’s exactly what i thought when i left the crib for a minute to drive to the arab seafood/soulfood spot to buy some blank cd’s home depot. when i returned an hour later, that tiny square section of our parking lot had turned into south padre island. there was a four man touch-tab football game, badminton, a one woman wet t-shirt contest and some convoluted yet compelling game which looked to be a combination of the westminster dog show and twister. all of this at 10:15 in the f**king morning.

as i watched them party like it was the last episode of ma.s.h., i couldn’t help but think to myself how much easier sh*t would be for us if we allowed ourselves to just let the f**k go sometimes, and how that would translate to our dating selves.  how much happier would we be if we didn’t have these terrible self-limiting constraints about appropriate labels for non-married significant others, and weren’t so unreasonably obsessed with swagger and exceedingly optimum ass-to-waist ratios. if we didn’t require our potential mates to take both the pool and the extended pinkie test. if “nice” wasn’t a four letter word, and asking someone to smile wasn’t akin to asking them to volunteer for a colonoscopy.

but then…i remembered that i hadn’t eaten yet, and all idealistic thoughts went astray as i sauntered over to the party square to grab a hot dog and quarterback the football game. i scuffed up my white pro-keds a bit too…but it was cool. its just a sneaker, right? it’s really not that serious.

—the champ