I’m sorry for not going to every frat row party every weekend. It’s not that I have anything against people who do decide to party. I don’t. I just don’t enjoy having beer spilled on my feet, being grabbed by random guys, and watching girls throw up.
Sorry I didn’t want to dance with you at that party a few weeks ago. My idea of fun is not being pressed up against a wall while some guy dry-humps me. And let’s be honest: there were plenty of other willing girls in the room; you had already danced with about five of them. So I don’t really know why you were so upset when I said no, but whatever.
Sorry I refuse to answer to anyone who refers to me as a bitch. I don’t resemble a dog in any way, and I have a name. If you don’t know my name, just ask me. Chances are that’ll get you farther than calling me a ‘sexy bitch’ and then asking me to join you on the wall for some bumping and grinding.
But what do I know?
Anyways, sorry I don’t feed into the idea of talking/acting white. As flawless as the logic that speaking properly and carrying myself a certain way makes me an entirely different race is, I just can’t bring myself to believe that I don’t deserve to be black because I enjoy reading, classical music, and can speak proper English. You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe that DOES make me an Oreo.
I’m so sorry if my hair offends you. I know, it’s wild and unruly and hard to style and what the heck does ‘natural’ mean anyway? I know, I should’ve just kept chemically relaxing it. Sure it burns worse than a hot iron, and yeah it causes bald spots later on, but who needs strong hair? Long, straight hair is where it’s at!
I apologize for not liking when people use the n-word or any of its variations. Maybe I shouldn’t be so uptight about a word with such negative historical connotations.
Oh, there I go talking like a white girl again…
While I’m at it, sorry for being SUCH a prude. I must be crazy for not giving up my goodies to just anyone.
And sorry I’m so promiscuous. Wearing those shorts the other day definitely makes me a flirt, and a tease. I should be ashamed.
And FINALLY, and most importantly….
Sorry I’m not sorry.