Friday, December 10, 2010

Orange Prostitues (My Salute to the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders)

            The significance of cultural traditions often has so much less to do with the actual tradition than the festivities and customs that surround said tradition; thus becoming traditions all to themselves. Church is less about Jesus and more about the size of your hat and the volume of your singing voice. Thanksgiving is less about the Pilgrims and the Native Americans than it is about stuffing your face until you become the size of Kirstie Allie. The same is true for most cultural customs of this wonderfully ridiculous country.

       Since moving to America, this country is yet to let me down in delighting and fascinating my comedic curiosity in the crazy shit that people take part in. One of the most disturbing American past times is a very strange and peculiar event. Allow me to describe it. Thousands of Caucasian men come far and wide to meet in a secret cave to bask in their Whiteness. Upon arrival, they form several circles that appreciate in height all surrounding a plastic green garden of plastic grass that has been decorated with White flour (they really should use whole wheat flour) to create lines and numbers representing an encrypted code on the sacred green grass. Servants bring to them partially cooked penises on bread decorated with red, green, and yellow stripes. The White people drink this foreign elixir out of a plastic cup which displays the name of their Lord and Savior, "Budweiser" (with every sip you can just taste the racism). Once they have all been served this racist communion they rise and cheer for the upcoming event to follow. They peer toward central sacred evergreen garden when  their pawns finally make their entrance. Precisely 22 giant Negros in uniform race into the field. 11 come from the North and the other 11 come from the South. Each team of great Blackness faces each other and it begins. The White people scream and riot as the African Americans proceed to throw an oddly shaped ball around the garden and beat the shit out of each other. The game has begun. The great tradition of American Football!

        It never once occurred to me that I would ever have to actually experience this nightmare but as I've said before, Jesus has a very peculiar sense of humor. I'm sure he heard my negative attitude on this American tradition then looked down upon me and said to himself "Alright bitch this is what you get for making fun of me in your last blog you Butterscotch bastard!" It turns out that at my job we are all required to help out with fundraising. I'm all for helping out my company. What I didn't realize that this involved working the concession stand at the Dallas Cowboy Stadium! We sold two things; Miller Lite and hot dogs. Obviously I was completely horrified when I found this out. I've never been a fan of food that resembles genitalia. At the same time I was slightly curious to see what Hillbillies actually look like up close, so I stayed optimistic. We arrived at the stadium and were immediately requested to don the most hideous uniform I've ever seen. It was the largest football jersey I've ever encountered; I could've fit at least seven Asian babies under there. There was also a matching cap which left an incredibly attractive red line circling around my bald head. Once we put these abominable clothes on we began to set up our cash register and count the the cans of beer and frozen penises which the Hillbillies call "hot dogs". Once our station was set up it was time for the game to start. I knew that the majority of the people attending this event would be Caucasian so I was not surprised to see them arrive on time. If the football audience was Black they would probably play about an hour of previews and advertisements to ensure that people would arrive just in time to see the kick-off. Anyways, once the Whities started coming through the door I was completely overwhelmed. These people certainly delivered in the trailer trash department. It was solid comedy gold! Imagine Wal-Mart with less teeth and more man-breasts. Some hillbilly with a dream decided to come up to me and order a beer, I just stared in complete awe. He was almost as intriguing as a lesbian. Finally, I awoke from my frozen state of shock and served him his Miller Lite. The carnies made their way to their seats encircling the football field. You could see the sheer anticipation and joy on their faces. I'm not sure what's so exciting about watching Black people running into each other but they seemed very happy. As the beginning of the show was approaching business was slowing down as most people had taken their seats so I slowly made way toward the field and stood behind the last row to take a peak at the beginning of the event. I wanted to see what all the fuss was all about. I imagined that the Negros would simply hobble on out, a White person wearing a prison-striped outfit would slap a ball down, blow his whistle and then the Blacks would immediately start fighting over it. That's how football works, right? I was wrong. I didn't realize that similar to church there is an entire theatre production that surrounds the game.  I peered down and saw them running out.....but they weren't Black....and they weren't giant.....they weren't even men. Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce to you the most frightening thing you will ever witness in all of your existence: The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders!

        God makes some people Black. God makes some people White. God even makes some people Brown (that's me!). However, I was blithely unaware of the fact that apparently God also makes people Orange. That's right. These women were definitely not Caucasian, they were actually the color of pumpkins. I'm not sure how they came to be Orange. Were they born that way? Or did they scrub themselves in egg yolks every morning? Maybe they used yams. I'm not sure. In any case, these women were some of the strangest creatures I had ever met in my life. I had previously thought that my Mother (Princess Toadstool) was the happiest person on the planet. I came to find that she is second to the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. These ladies had Cheshire cat smiles that stretched from one orange ear to the other and they remained plastered on their shiny little faces for the entire 5 minutes they were on the field. I'm not sure what kind of medication they're on but I would like to follow one of them to the pharmacy and just say "I'll have what SHE'S having". Supposedly these cheerleaders were engaging in an activity called "dancing". I use this term loosely. I feel at a loss for words to describe what they were doing. I suppose the most accurate way of getting my point across would be to have you imagine a chihuahua dry humping an imaginary chair leg during an earthquake. Now just imagine that this chihuahua is orange with gigantic fun-balloon breasts. I think you get the picture. I felt the urge to scrub myself in Purell immediately after the "performance" (I also use this term loosely). I also have to mention that all of the pumpkin ladies had incredibly long, pin straight hair. One or two had black hair (looking as though the pumpkin was sprouting), a few had brown hair but for the most part the pumpkin ladies had a hair color so bright you would need to be wearing sun goggles to prevent blindness when staring in its direction. Most people would call this hair color "platinum blond" but I think it's much more accurate to refer to it as "cataract-inducing neon yellow". They looked crazy! I've seen so many different types of people from different continents all over the world but I never thought I would set my eyes on orange women with blindingly neon-yellow hair engaging in some of the most atrocious dancing I've ever seen in my life wearing nothing but glitter-covered dental floss. I felt like I was an audience member at the circus or R.Kelly.

        I thought football was about Whities coming together to watch the Negros beat each other up over a ball as they sit back and eat phallic-looking food but it turns out that they also come to watch Orange Ladies dressed like teenage prostitutes perform a mime version of humping. Also, I cannot over-emphasize the importance of drinking Miller Lite out of a plastic cup. By the way, I found out that the "Lite" makes it classy. It's of the upmost importance to understand that when downing copious amounts of alcohol whilst eating heavily processed food packed with saturated fat that you must always consider the calorie content of your beer that you're drinking out of a styrophome cup. However, I still won't ever understand the use of astroturf; it looks tacky and outdated. I'll be writing an open letter to the football leagues demanding that they use real grass fertilized by the great and talented cattle of this country. It's patriotic is what it is!

       If you are ever in Texas, I highly recommend that you pay a visit to the Dallas Cowboy Stadium where you can witness this hot mess festival. There is no sense in bringing a camera because the hair on the orange ladies is so bright that no lense can capture its brightness. But please go for yourself to experience it one on one. Just don't bring any teenage girls with you lest they become inspired to become orange prostitutes.

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