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Stuff This White Person Doesn't Like

I'm sure you've all by now visited the Stuff White People Like website (I just read blurb about it in Time Magazine, proving that it's past the point of saturation). When I first found out about it I read all the archives, agreeing and laughing and being reminded just how white I really am, as if my pale February skin wasn't reminder enough.

It did get me thinking about all the things white people usually like that I despise. So here's a brief list.

I feel that everybody (and by everybody I mean everybody who lives where I live) reaches an age in their life when it seems as though you're supposed to start spending every winter weekend up at Hunter Mountain. I'm not sure at what age this starts--probably around the 21-21 mark--but I just remember all of a sudden being bombarded by the word. "You going to Hunter tomorrow?" "You rent your house up in Hunter yet?" "Dude, Hunter's so fucking awesome." "Yea, I'm so sick of the Rockaway/Bay Ridge/Manhattan Rockaway Satellite Bar scene, I'm fleeing to Hunter."

Yo, first off, fuck Hunter. Why would I want to waste thousands of dollars to rent a house a few hours away just so I can hang out with the same people I'd usually see at Connolly's on a Tuesday in July? What, for the powder? Fuck skiing! That shit's terrifying. I've gone skiing three times in my life, and each experience was progressively worse. The first time was in the 1st grade (I still have my diary entry proclaiming my excitement for going "Skeeying" in "Pencilvainya"). My family rented a ski house for a few days along with a bunch of other families, and I remember having fun on the slopes. I was fearless down the mountain, and mastered the pizza/volleyball skiform. I enjoyed the indoor pool and my purple bubble coat. I remember it being an exciting time.

My second ski experience was the Stella ski trip freshman year of high school. Besides the fact that my ski boots couldnt close and I walked around with snow wetting my socks, the day ended with Brigid Shea on a stretcher. True story. I skied a total of 10 minutes that day, forcing myself one last run before our bus trip home just to get my money's worth. This ended with my walking down the mountain holding my skiis. Juliette Geary found me halfway and encouraged me to give it another go, but I was just too scared.

My third and final ski trip occurred Junior year at St. John's. Kerry's family has a house upstate, so she, Mary Cait and I decided to spend a few days of our spring break at Belaire mountain. I fell of the ski lift a lot; I had panic attacks at the top of the mountain; once I gained speed, I'd fall to the side, scared of hitting a tree. I spend 75% of the day in the ski lodge, waiting for my friends to finish. What's fun about speeding down a mountain with your feet locked into giant poles, surrounded by trees? If I needed a rush I'd chug a red bull or go on a roller coaster. Skiing is not my jive.

Another shitty thing white people can't get enough of! Back in HS, when my friends ad I were feeling particularly adventurous, we'd suggest going bowling on a Friday night. This was a big deal since the closest bowling alleys were over many bridges and many bus/train rides away. But besides the traveling, there was always an issue on reserving a lane.

"Sorry, our league's playing tonight," the rude lady would say when we called up Gil Hodges Lanes. "And we don't let kids under 18 in on the weekends."

Oh really? What the hell? I know there's a bar inside, but it's a bowling alley, first and foremost. What's the harm in letting kids inside to throw some balls?

Speaking of throwing balls, am I the only one who has an extremely hard time releasing the bowling ball from their fingers? I understand that I have chubby hands, but I see fat guys whirling those things down the lanes, with no fingers getting stuck. The last time I went bowling I felt like I was in a Will Ferrell/Ben Stiller physical comedy--my body dropping with the ball, the ball clunking on the floor, my fingers getting stuck. Not cool. And not fun.


A few weeks ago I went to the Plug Awards. This "Grammy Awards of Indie Music" (obviously not my quote) featured a bunch of really cool indie act, notably The Forms, who I went to see. However they also featured Dizzee Rascal, a rapper from England who is awesome at his ability to pump up the crowd. Not this crowd, though. This crowd, full of ironic white kids just waiting to cream their pants at the site of Nick Cave, could not get pumped up. Everybody just stood around being sarcastic and cool. What the fuck? I'll dance to anything. I mosh to The Forms all the time and danced so hard at Daft Punk* that I went to work the next day with a sore back. Even at the Justice show at TErminal Five the dancing was minimal. When I go to predominately black bars and clubs there's always dancing; you never see anybody standing in the corner with their arms folded. Whats the harm in letting your arms go and moving from side to side or something? Or does it have something to do with that other thing white people are known for, which is sucking at dancing?

*Actually, the Daft Punk show was one of the few concerts I've been to where everybody was dancing like they were all alone doing the robofreakout in their bedrooms. Maybe thats one of the things that made the show so memorable.

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I wonder if my writing has even improved?