I have a pretty awesome/awful idea for a blog, one that
The first blog entry to Stuff Samoan People Like will probably look like this:
#1 Who Really Cares?
The answer to that question is "my Samoan family, that's who". You know, the ones I'll be making fun of. Many moons ago, Snotty McSnotterson was born on the small island of American Samoa, in an even smaller village called Fagalii (pronounced FONG-a-lee-ee, for those of you 12-year olds who snickered). If you don't know where Samoa is, get in line; like the mighty clitoris, its' location can be confusing. The most efficient way for me to describe the whereabouts of my miraculous virgin birth is this: it's DOWN, and OVER. It takes a hundredthousandmillion manhours to get there, and once you've landed, it's like sitting in a humidifier with a bunch of beautiful, exotic, Polynesian hillbillies. See that 14-year old over there? Those two children are hers. The fat pig we just walked past, the one that looked just like Wilbur from Charlotte's Web? After we bury him underground, we'll set him on fire and then dinner is served! The people are forward, approaching you on the street and asking if you speak English, if you want to come have dinner with their family, if you have any extra cash for their half-blind aunt who needs a costly operation in the next month or so. They are loving, hugging you upon first meeting, and trusting--and by trusting, I mean they trust you enough not to gasp or intervene when they're happily abusing their children in front of you. Not abusing-abusing; just...a smack with a smile, kind of like 'service with a smile', the only difference being with good service comes a good tip. With abuse, you just receive physical and emotional scars, although it would be nice if you made a little something on the side for your trouble. A fiver, maybe, but nothing extravagant.
Don't get me wrong, I like Samoans. I mean, if I knew any, I'm sure I would like them. The ones I know--ma familia biologicale--are perfectly nice, and their lives are rich with family, procreation, and indentured servitude to Jesus. Not my idea of a good time, or even time well spent, but to each his own. Now that they've converted to Mormonism and moved from Oahu (yawn) to Utah (action-packed!), I've taken to calling them the Samormons, because... well, it's hilarious.
I forgot the point to this post, but I think it's this: stuffsamoanpeoplelike.blogspot.com is MINE ALL MINE. When the first post drops, I'll spread the word, much like my Samoan family is spreading the word about the Latter Day Saints. See, we're really not that different after all.