We’re not supposed to call it “third world.”
How about “where brown people come from?”
Note: I’m brown, therefore when I say this, it is hilarious. If you’re not brown and want to repeat this, please find the nearest brown person and have them direct you through approval protocol.
I can also use “third world” even though I was born in the United States, a country which if it could would call itself the “first-most-biggest-awesomest-world-that-will-suck-your-world-up-in-ONE-of-its-supermalls.” This is because my parents were born in the third world. Plus, some of my best friends are from the third world.
I am intimately familiar with the phrase “third world solutions.” This basically means that in any given situation, the most cost-efficient, quick and elegant solutions treat both manual labor and looking terribly foolish as unequivocal non-issues. That last part about looking foolish and manual labor is the secret in the sauce.
I can write more, but look:
A family. On a scooter. Definitely NOT in America.
That? Is a family on a scooter. If you’ve been to India or Pakistan, you know that this is no yeti. It happens all the time.
Ignoring the inconvenient truth of child endangerment, this is: elegant, cheap and quick. I also feel the strong urge right now to remind you that this scooter probably costs less money than you and I spent on Dora Go-Gurt last year. Most important, the requisite ignorance of labor cost (mother’s white knuckled grip on seat) and not caring about how foolish one looks (see dad) are met.
Problem: Fruit snacks. They’re spilling all over the place.
I thought to myself, I should go to Target and buy a nifty canister. But, then, I decided to use a glass jar we had in the recycling bin. Whaaat?! I’m all third world up in here!! Yay me!
When my husband, who is from India, came home, I proudly showed him this solution that required more labor than swiping a check card and, not to brag or anything, looked pretty stupid.
“Look! I found a third world solution to the fruit snack situation!”
If someone patting you on the head is a look, that’s the one I got. “Wow. It’s great.”
“Are you patronizing me?”
(The following exchange, originally composed of thirty-two sentences, has been edited to save face.)
“Why?” I pleaded, “Why isn’t this a third world solution to a first world problem?!”
“Honey. The third world solution to the fruit snack ‘situation’ would have been to make the kids eat real fruit.”
Well.
I’m sorry.
But.
That’s just insane.
About Faiqa Khan
I’m a white American who uses a broken banjo as a weapon of self-defense. Can I be third-world, too, or am I stuck being a hillbilly?
Twitter Name: GaytheistGospel
Oh my gaaaah you are right.
I just found a third world solution to our floors, or lack thereof. No floors! Huzzah!
Twitter Name: thedgoddess
My sage son says that we are all brown, because peach is just a very, very light shade of brown. He gets quite indignant when he hears anyone use the terms “black” or “white” to refer to people color. He had never seen a person who is “white” or “black” (except for me, of course), he says. Also, does looking ridiculous in your own home count? I often take off my shirt and use it for an emergency burp cloth. Why not? She’s usually spit up on it, already. I am so convinced that doing this looks ridiculous that I make sure to never pass a mirror. I’ve also used a sock (clean), pants (also clean) and kitchen towel. I’m from the south, though, which is like the third world portion of the US. There is actually a garbage collecting company in our area that is basically a couple of guys with a pick up truck from the 60′s that they have built extra tall walls onto the bed. They drive around, picking up the trash, throwing the bags into the truck, piling it higher and higher. It’s quite a sight to see them in their truck driving around with ten feet of trash piled in the back. We also have someone in our area who has cut the bed off of an old, probably wrecked, truck, welded a tow bar onto it and drags it behind his (working) truck, using it like a trailer to haul extra stuff. Yeah, the south is an amazing (and creative!) place!
Well I commend you on your thrifty, creative, third world skillz.
Real fruit would work so much better if it came in the shape of Dora or Scooby Doo.
Alas, they don’t sell real fruit at Publix.
Twitter Name: msmegan