2008 Woodie Awards
Who do you think you are?
Troy Brakefield
Issue date: 11/1/07 Section: Opinion
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Despite the rush of classes, stories and homework people need to take time to measure themselves from time to time. Or to relax with a drink.
Since I had done the former earlier in the week, I decided to tackle the latter Friday night. My friend Zach invited me to a "Come as your own stereotype" party and I figured why not?
First, let me explain that I was initially confused with the concept.
"Zach, do you mean come as my own stereotype or pick another one to pick on?"
"Your own."
Now, before anyone gets too put off, let me be up front: I'm white, Zach's white, and Zach's friends hosting the party are everything else.
My friend Richard was hesitant.
"I don't know if I can make it."
"Why not?"
"I can't decide what to go as."
This is funny to his friends since he is Hispanic and gay. I did not suggest Ricky Martin. Even gay Hispanic people do not like Ricky Martin.
When I got to the party, Zach was in a business suit with grey coloring in his hair. He was "The Man."
Nice.
I was in my work clothes: a button-down shirt and khakis. I was "The Manager."
The party was well underway when I got there. Most everyone had a beverage in hand, the music was loud and the spread wasn't bad, either. I got a Shiner and headed to a group of friends I knew to talk.
Around me were a variety of costumed people. Most kept in the theme of the party.
"Juan" had a three-foot wide sombrero, a Technicolor poncho and the worst fake moustache. His girlfriend wore an outfit reminiscent of a server at El Fenix - and a fake moustache.
"Mike" wore a wife-beater style undershirt, black working shoes, Dickies khakis pulled down revealing his boxers and a tattoo of Jesus drawn in erasable marker.
"David" wore a blue button-down shirt with a white collar and dress slacks. He had a large red dot drawn on his forehead with red lipstick. His date wore a sari and sash and a matching red dot.
Since I had done the former earlier in the week, I decided to tackle the latter Friday night. My friend Zach invited me to a "Come as your own stereotype" party and I figured why not?
First, let me explain that I was initially confused with the concept.
"Zach, do you mean come as my own stereotype or pick another one to pick on?"
"Your own."
Now, before anyone gets too put off, let me be up front: I'm white, Zach's white, and Zach's friends hosting the party are everything else.
My friend Richard was hesitant.
"I don't know if I can make it."
"Why not?"
"I can't decide what to go as."
This is funny to his friends since he is Hispanic and gay. I did not suggest Ricky Martin. Even gay Hispanic people do not like Ricky Martin.
When I got to the party, Zach was in a business suit with grey coloring in his hair. He was "The Man."
Nice.
I was in my work clothes: a button-down shirt and khakis. I was "The Manager."
The party was well underway when I got there. Most everyone had a beverage in hand, the music was loud and the spread wasn't bad, either. I got a Shiner and headed to a group of friends I knew to talk.
Around me were a variety of costumed people. Most kept in the theme of the party.
"Juan" had a three-foot wide sombrero, a Technicolor poncho and the worst fake moustache. His girlfriend wore an outfit reminiscent of a server at El Fenix - and a fake moustache.
"Mike" wore a wife-beater style undershirt, black working shoes, Dickies khakis pulled down revealing his boxers and a tattoo of Jesus drawn in erasable marker.
"David" wore a blue button-down shirt with a white collar and dress slacks. He had a large red dot drawn on his forehead with red lipstick. His date wore a sari and sash and a matching red dot.
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