Monday, February 22, 2010


After our wild trip to the optometrist, we went to the Loving Hut vegetarian restuarant.

We devoured all our food which meant Mr. SuperFantabulous and I had no leftovers for lunch.

"What are we having for lunch tomorrow?" I asked, hoping for a delicious answer.
"I don't know." He said tersely, making no move to provide deliciousness for his wife.

I forgot about it and went to bed.

This morning I woke up to find him slaving over a hot stove to provide me with sustenance (and to a lesser and less important extent, himself). He even made salad which is traditionally a job held by the wife in this household, though I'm so culinarily disabled even that is occasionally beyond my ability as evidenced on Saturday night when I sliced through my finger and bled all over the greens before I realized I'd been seriously injured.

We rode the bus together to school. We discussed things. As they often do, our discussion turned into a vicious, violent argument. The fact that the viciousness and violence is one sided (as in my side) does nothing to lessen the spectacle. The Koreans tend to stare more than usual when these antics are going on, but otherwise prefer not to be involved.

He was telling me about a group of traveling British (Britons?) that made a list of the most beautiful people they had encountered. Americans topped the list. The Brazillions were second.

He agreed. I disagreed. I've decided that the Swedish are the most beautiful people on Earth and nothing will disued me from this deep, personal conviction.

"Who were these British? And what makes them qualified to judge? How many were there?"
He had answers to none of these questions, resulting in a resounding defeat for him and his travelling, beauty judging British.

Then to just make things interesting, I agreed. Also, I really wanted say the following phrase, "Its because America is a melting pot. It's a mosaic," So I did, using both the American and Canadian terms for the mixing that goes on in our respective countries.

He made the mistake of agreeing back, "That's right, I mean, do you know anyone who is pure white?"
"You." I said.
He took offense to that.
"My grandmother is half Alaska Native."

First of all, I have always doubted that half-ness of his grandmother because they count Russian as native too. Second of all, I firmly, deeply believe that if you look white, it doesn't really matter that your great grandmother was full blooded Kenyan, or Cherokee, or Purplish-blue space robot. An errant dark skinned gene floating around in the family tree does not make you interesting. If you look white, people treat you as white.

After all, any tint to your skin makes you automatically non-white doesn't it? I'm slightly more white than non-white, but if I went around telling people, "My great-grandmother was full blooded Irish," when they asked, "What are you?" they'd think I was a nut job. Sometimes I say it anyway.

So I told him, "You have white skin, you have light eyes, you're about as white as they come!"

"You just said America was a melting pot! I'm sure if you go back far enough everyone has some Native or African genes mixed in!"

"Yeah! If you go back far enough we're all from Africa so technically no-one's white!"

"You're just being argumentative! You don't think that the Spanish look different than the Swedes? They're all white!"

"A melting, mixing, mosaic pot can be made of all white people you know! And don't talk disparaginly about the Swedes! They are the most beautiful people on Earth!"

At that point our debate was interrupted by a sea of Koreans entering the bus.

"I bet Koreans didn't even make the list." He said.
"Duh." I answered.

And harmony was restored in the universe.


LouDog said...

For the truth on this argument, visit my blog

LouDog said...

PS, since your double mike does not count, I now have more followers than you.

SuperFantabulous said...

This is only a temporary setback. All will be right in the world again very, very soon!