Zhong Han Euphemism of the Day!

We’re all familiar with Zhong Han’s, err, creative use of the English language. Well, my friends, this time she’s outdone herself. To describe the routine Chinese procedure that her cousin underwent yesterday, she said “my cousin have baby disappeared.” How precious, Zhong Han can even make abortions adorable!

This caps off an interesting year for our friend Han Han that involved a lot of growing up. She went from a 25 year old virgin in college in rural China to a promiscuous drug addict living in Shanghai whose cousin just dropped her very own a-bomb. Welcome to 21st Century China!

Unfortunately, this is a very telling microcosm of youth culture in modern China. Because drugs and sex remain social taboos, drug and sex education is nonexistent. As a result, many Chinese adolescents engage in the aforementioned behavior completely ignorant of the consequences (namely: addiction and babies, respectively).

PS I’ve had a lot of questions about Zhong Han’s new facebook album. And, no, she’s not that hot. It’s called airbrushing, people!

Are We Witnessing the Inception of a New, More Transparent China?

No.

This tragedy befell China in the form of a devastating earthquake (7.9 for those of you scoring at home). Normally, when God strikes China with some debilitating plague/natural disaster (about every other year), the state-controlled media habitually creates a cover-up of Orwellian proportions, brainwashing its citizens and tricksying the rest of the world into believing the given calamity is of a much smaller scope (for example: the government kept a lid on SARS for months and it was really only until it spread to Hong Kong that China were forced to release the actual number infected with the virus).  However, the Sichuan earthquake this week was different. The state-media has been covering the incident nonstop, releasing timely, accurate (Jesus, at least I hope they are, there are alrady 10,000+ dead) information to both the Western media and to its citizens. And juxtaposed to their neighbors to the south, Myanmar, China looks like an impassioned government, hell-bent on undertaking any initiative to save those in trouble (note: had China actually built edifices that wouldn’t collapse during an earthquake in a city thats ON A FAULT LINE, the casualties would only be a fraction of what they are. But, hey, keep on giving six billion dollars to Malawi. Your country doesn’t need it!).  And the Western media has been eating this shit up, implying that its the birth of a more open era for China. False.

My friends, do not be fooled. China is just pandering to the West ahead of the Olympics, trying to convince us they’re actually becoming transparent in the wake of the torch fiasco. Why? In order to lull is into a false sense of security. That way, when they commence what I’ve dubbed Operation Ad ExstirPANDA, they might be able to keep it under the radar for as long as possible.  Ad Exstirpanda was a Papal bull that legalized the use of torture to secure information during the Inquisition. When China implements Ad ExstirPANDA, arbitrarily arresting and torturing foreigners, the media will be blindsided. Western governments will be enraged.  China will snicker. Once again, take off the beer goggles. China will not hesitate to break the rules if it means the protection of its self-perceived reputation of infallibility.

And, its official, there’s no way I’m getting a visa now.

Silly Taiwanese, Tricks Are for Kids!

-One of Taipei’s nicest hotels is called “One Star.” If I were spending millions of dollars to on an upscale hotel, I would not give it a name that implies “the epitome of shoddiness,” and “on par with a Kowloon hostel. Beware of rats and transients.”

-There’s a Cold Stone right outside Taipei Main Station! The odds of my father visiting just doubled.

-Inside Taipei’s Main Station, there’s a breast feeding room. It remains to be seen if this will effect the odds of my father visiting.

-People here can’t believe I don’t support either Manchester United or Chelsea. FOUR TIMES, I’ve had people ask me whether I supported Manchester United or Chelsea, and each time when I replied “neither,” they looked at me dumbfounded. They couldn’t comprehend how someone couldn’t support one of these two clubs. One of them was from Singapore, so I asked why he supported the team. He replied “because of the history.” Translation: they win a lot. This is why people hate Manchester United. 80% of their fanbase hails from the Far East and couldn’t point to Manchester on a map.

-Trucker hats apparently never went out in Taiwan. Apparently, for Taiwan’s female clubbing elite, these hats are considered requisite apparel. Also, it appears as if the more absurd the saying on one’s hat, the cooler one’s hat is. For example, thus far I’ve seen the following: 1) “Todo el futbol.” That doesn’t even make sense in Spanish. Todo es futbol maybe. But I also find it hard to believe this young lady of maybe 95 pounds knew anything about footie. Whore. 2) “I LOVE SUNDAY.” Nobody loves Sunday. Not even pastors. Sunday is bearable in the fall during the hours when (insert favorite NFL team) is playing/the Eucharist. When I think of Sunday, I think of headaches and homework. I do not heart Sunday. 3) “Around the Azteca.” Now, the only Azteca with which I’m familiar is Mexico’s national stadium. Is this hat referring to the shantytowns that make up most of the Districto Federale? Or are there delicious food stalls surrounding the stadium like at the Stade Gerland that are so tasty that a hat was made to commemorate the awesomeness? Or does this hat just have a few arbitrary words on it? 4) “MM Like Black.” I’m not sure who MM is. Perhaps these were the girls initials? Would this imply that she liked the color black in terms of clothing, or that she prefers to ski black diamonds? Or, well, lets just say daddy wouldn’t like my last hypothesis. And it’s probably the closest to the truth. 5) “Suicidal Tendencies” And I’m quite confident this 18 year old Jay Chou lover was not referring to the band. And for someone contemplating killing herself, she sure did smile a lot. 6) “CHE!” Finally, the ubiquitous Che T-shirt has become a trucker hat! I mean, he was already rolling around in his shallow grave in the Bolivian highlands when it became apparent that some evil corporation was making millions of capitalist pesos on his image. And, now, they’ve ventured into trucker hats: the ultimate anti-Communist piece of attire.

-So I’ve now been in China/Chinese-speaking entities for roughly three weeks. How many times now do you think I’ve consumed Chinese food? Guess?! Three! I’ve decided the best way to describe my Asian adventures through the lens of my gastronomic habits would be “a tour of all the American restaurants that I don’t actually go to in America.” In America, chain restaurants I visit frequently are Chipotle (duh), Chick-Fil-A (except on Sundays; once again, who loves Sundays?!), Quizno’s, Mellow Mushroom (duuuude), Brio, the OG, and Fromagecake factory in addition to my hole-in-the-wall Latino/Italian places. Here, on the other hand, I’m a regular at Subway, Chili’s (the new golfcourse) and Macaroni Grill. I can’t remember the last time I went to Macaroni Grill negli Stati Uniti (because I figure if I’m going to shell out that much cash, I might as well get authentic Italian cuisine. Though, I must say, their caprese is pretty divine). I even occasionally hit McDo and KFC here, something I would NEVER do in the States. I’ll be honest though, the latter two are just an excuse to get barbecue sauce to my mouth.

The TIME 100: Unadulterated Crap

-Really, I have no idea why I read this every year. It’s pure shit. Half of their choices are unjustifiable, period (though they try their damnedest to convince their readers otherwise) and most of the rest are questionable at best.

-For each bio, they ask someone famous/a luminary in a related field to write something about them, and at the bottom of each page, TIME gives a one sentence explanation of who the author is. I have no problems with this if the topic is astrophysics or microeconomic theory where the majority of the populace has no effing clue who said person is. But informing me that “Bill Clinton is a former United States President” is utterly superfluous (”Ohh, THAT Bill Clinton!”)

-Also, the writer sentence bio is incredibly dull (like the previous one) or his wife Hillary Clinton is a US Senator running for President. Couldn’t we have a little more fun with these, guys? Like, Bill Clinton was America’s first African-American President or Hillary, Hilldawg to those close to her, enjoys a good pants suit. Or Archbishop Desmond Tutu is an avid keno player. Or, maybe, Michelle Obama’s favorite cooking spray is Pam. At least make it something we don’t know about the person (Most of these are unconfirmed).

-The process they use for selecting the authors must be highly flawed because there is no reason that Kasey freaking Keller should be writing the bio for Kaka. Ten dollars says that Kaka doesn’t know who the hell Kasey Keller is, and he definitely couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. And for George W., did they REALLY pick Silvio Berlusconi? Don’t get me wrong, I thought this was the highlight of the whole experience, but is this Georgey’s only remaining friend? Couldn’t get someone who isn’t blatantly corrupt? Or was this juxtaposition intended to make Georgey look better (introducing the only politician worse than you, Prime Minister Berlusconi!) And Cate Blanchett for Kevin Rudd (Australia’s new PM)? I get it, they’re both Australian, but that’s like asking me to write a piece on Reggie Jackson. And Jesus, what an atrocious, self-indulgent piece. I’ll save you two minutes, it goes something like this: Finally, a like-minded, condescending liberal is in power in the ACT, death to the evil conservative John Howard, Aboriginals are people too, see my next movie (note: for simplicity’s sake, American political definitions). She completely neglected the most fascinating and important aspect of Kevin Rudd’s persona: he’s the first Western leader fluent in Chinese. This is a landmark development, and by all accounts, a sign of a shift in foreign policy for Australia as they look to make China perhaps their closest non-Commonwealth ally. But, hey, whatever, that’s not important or anything.

-God, and the people they picked…I swear for half of them they just asked Google who the 50 most searched people are. Kaka, really? You didn’t pick George Weah a few years back when he was singlehandedly funding the Liberian national team so they could compete in international tournaments and then ran for president in his war-torn country, but picking Kaka is ok? Kaka’s a gifted footballer and devoted Christian, but does that really merit a TIME 100 place? (Granted if it were me, I’d make a case for like 18 footballers, but that’s beside the point)

-I swear the only criteria for being selected was level of involvement in Darfur. If you were a celebrity and embraced other causes like human rights in China, or democracy in Central Asia, you are a person not worthy of recognition. But if you went for a 48 hour photo shoot to “raise awareness” in Darfur, you’re worthy of the TIME 100! I’m too lazy to count, but “Darfur activism” was used as a principal justification for no less than 20 people on the list.

-Warren Buffet became the wealthiest man in the world this year. This was not enough to make the list, however.

-However, some Iraqi woman made it for opening a sewing factory and employing women for meager pay. Wait, didn’t Kathy Lee Gifford get in trouble for almost the same thing?

-Inclusions I approved of: Miley Cyrus, Vladimir Putin, the emir of Dubai, the Saudi oil minister, Aung San Su Kyi (still hot), the assassin who took out Benazir Bhutto, and George Clooney (come on, he’s handsome. Like bigtime).

-I can’t believe they picked all three Presidential candidates, what a cop out. It would’ve been a lot more amusing if they’d conspicuously left one of them out (you know who) and invited her to do like four of the blurbs just to rub it in. Ok, this is why I’m not in charge.

-It should be 101 because they counted Brangelina as 1 person. What an effing copout, what is this, the National Enquirer? Or does TIME really think they’re one person? It does get confusing at times. Also, I’m sure TIME is thrilled with the timing of this release (the New Yorker claims that a video of Angelina snorting heroine will be released shortly, and anyone remotely familiar with the “Girl, Int.” slash Billy Bob phase is not shocked in the least).

-Ultimate Cop-out choice: The Dalai Lama. Freaking Tibet. Just can’t escape it.

-People I’m glad that didn’t make it: Sarah Jessica Parker (butterace), Reina ‘Tina Kirchner, Tals Vatman (oh, snap!), Steven Gerrard, Jimmy Fallon, that rich Mexican dude, Thabo Mbeki, Rob Reinhart (who did write one of the stories, and its really funny if you read it while thinking about him in that episode of South Park), and baseball.

-People who should have made it: Gillian Chung, the creator of Gossip Girl, the entire cast of Gossip Girl, the people who write the Gossip Girl blog for the New Yorker, Nate (he was just a little early to the Darfur party, otherwise he would’ve been a shoo-in in light of this year’s credentials), Zhong Han, Chew Choon Song (CEO of Singapore Airlines), the plastic surgeon who did the operation on the Filipino transsexual who prowls this street (really, he did a wonderful job…I’m TOTALLY kidding by the by) and Kele Oreleke (lead singer of Bloc Party).

Your thoughts?

Las Vegas Vs. Macao: Which Is The Superior Destination?

A few weeks ago, I was in both Las Vegas and Macao within a five day span which afforded me the perfect opportunity to write an entry juxtaposing the two. This blurb looks to contrast every aspect of the Macao/Vegas experience, and inevitably looks to discern which of the two is, well, better. I’ve opted to use a scoring scale that directly compares both destinations, and for each category ONE destination is given anywhere from +1 to +3 points, depending on how drastic the level of superiority (and rarely, a tie can also occur). The aggregate point winner will be deemed the ultimate global gambling destination (Note: Monaco is clearly the greatest gambling destination ever, but this is for the folks whose income is five figures and less). OK, one goes there.

Food: A key aspect to any gambling weekend are the meals consumed. Everybody has cash on hand, making them less apprehensive about spending larger sums of money than usual on foodstuffs. Macao is known throughout China for its indigenous cuisine, but it isn’t even the best on the Pearl River Delta (both Guangzhou and Hong Kong have superior food). It is a unique fusion of Portuguese and Cantonese cooking, but Macao just can’t compare with Vegas’ myriad high-end restaurants founded by world renowned chefs. Vegas would get +2 here, but Macao is making huge strides in this department and with each new Western casino, we’re seeing more and more haute-cuisine in the former Portuguese colony, and combine that with local cuisine (which Vegas can’t claim to have, Vegas only gets one point. VEGAS +1

BOOZE: Hand in hand with food is booze. I don’t know of a single casino in Vegas where booze is not complimentary for players. Yes, at some casinos, they’re less attentive, but all casinos offer this amenity. This is not the case in Macao. Most casinos won’t give you free booze, and the ones that do restrict you to six ounces of flat beer (I had to coax the MGM grand into even granting me this privilege, the first casino that allowed me to do so; thank God, because a Jack and Coke at the bar ran me a scant THIRTEEN US Dollars and a mug of beer in the five dollar range; my free beer pass eventually ran up, and they began to offer me red wine instead; I informed the pit boss that this would not slow me down and all this would accomplish is increasing the odds of me vomiting). I have two theories as to why the Macanese are so stingy in the liquor department: 1) in general, the Chinese are very bad drunks. Not all, but some are prone to violence, ESPECIALLY when there is a question of money. This is obviously not a trait unique to the Chinese, but from my observations, money issues+liquor is a really lethal combination for them. 2) the Chinese don’t want booze because it would hinder their concentration and thus their card-playing abilities (they are far more concerned with making megabucks gambling than Americans but more on that later). Clearly, Vegas has the advantage here, but there are tricksy ways to get drunk very cheaply in Macao that aren’t available in Vegas: ubiquitous 7-11s where beers are only fifty cents and road sodas are encouraged; the sundries at most casinos sell beer for only two bucks, and the time it takes to go fetch your beer probably saves you 25 bucks anyway. But that’s only enough to take one point from Vegas. Vegas +2

Transportation: Finally, advantage Macao! Ask anyone you know about their thoughts on Las Vegas’ McCarran International Airport; seemingly everyone has a horror story. Flying in on a Friday means waiting an hour for your bag, and flying out on a Sunday means an hour at security. Combine the inherent annoyance of waiting in security with top-5 hangovers ever and you’ve got one miserable experience on your hand. Driving is supposedly not much better. Most drivers are coming from one of the regional urban sprawls (LA, PHX) and the incessant traffic that residents of those cities continually endure. Macao on the other hand is a breeze to access. High-speed ferries run from Hong Kong every FIFTEEN MINUTES and it only takes an hour from ticket purchase in Hong Kong to getting into a taxi in Macao (and that includes going through customs twice). There is rarely a wait (only during Chinese New Year, when all of the Mainland flocks to Macao). Macao has an airport too (scary landing because the runway is surrounded by water) but isn’t very busy so you don’t have to deal with McCarran-style frustrations. Macao doesn’t get all three points because if the water’s rough, the seasickness can overwhelm even those who have packed Dramamine. MACAO +2

Seedy Underbelly: I don’t know who is running Vegas at this point: is it the Russians, the Italians, the Cape Verdeans? All of the above? I just know I don’t want to owe money to any of them, nor do I want to owe any money to the Triads (fun tidbit from a reliable source: the Triads still run the Hong Kong entertainment industry, and are so pissed off at Edison Chen for ruining Gillian Chung and friends’ careers that they’ve offered a fifty thousand dollar reward for his hands). So, let’s call it a tie. EVEN MONEY

Gambling Environment: Vegas has more games (good luck finding a craps game in Macao) and better black jack odds (dealer takes her card before you play your hand which allows her to check if she has a black jack. When a dealer takes her card after you play your hand, you risk putting more money on the table, only to lose it automatically to a black jack. Though it seems like an isolated situation, it has a drastic impact on the players odds). Macao doesn’t play annoying Muzak, has far fewer slot machines (meaning less annoying slot machine-related noises) but pretty much everyone only plays Baccarat. However, this means you have a lot of folks playing black jack for the first time and making painful decisions that directly violate basic strategy (I once had a girl hit a hard 17 with a six up. That was the closest I’ve ever come to striking a woman). Vegas is a more frenetic experience, whereas Macao is more relaxing, but I’ve got to give the nod to the locale with more game diversity and better odds. Vegas +1 (Bizarre side note: In spite of the worse odds, I’m way up in terms of aggregate winnings in Macao, and am way down in Vegas. Go figure).

Culture: (For the record, we’re going to make culture and entertainment mutually exclusive terms; bear with me) Macao has hundreds of years worth of history, manifested through Mediterranean style cathedrals, mesmerizing Portugese/Chinese fusion architecture, and the aforementioned unique culinary experience. Vegas does not. The art gallery at the Bellagio prevents Macao from a clean sweep. Macao +2

Non-Gambling Entertainment: Macao has a handful of bars and a “massage parlor” or two. Vegas’ night life is responsible for more celebrity sex tapes than Macao has bars. I don’t need to wax on about clubs like Luxe, bars like the Irish pub in New York, New York, roller coasters, etc. I’ve yet to even find a club in Macao. A lot of the casinos shut during the twilight hours (aka prime gambling time!). Good luck trying to translate “strip club;” that’ll be a fruitless 45 minutes. Because Jand would never forgive me if I even considered giving Macao any props in this department (the king of dealing with boredom woke me up at 7 am in Macao insisting that we leave because he was that miserable)….Vegas +3

Casinos: Now that Macao’s casinos are beginning to mirror those of Vegas, it’s hard to differentiate between the two. Macao’s versions tend to be more high end; Vegas has more of them; Macao has floating ones that look like pagodas; Both have tons of Asians in them. I really don’t see much of a difference. Even Money

Characters: One would assume that this would be an automatic tre punti for Vegas, but let’s take a second to examine this a little more carefully. In Vegas, I find that for every interesting character that I meet, I encounter at least five hollow shells of souls who were initially attracted to Vegas by the prospect of truly experiencing life, but who can now hardly be counted among the living. Conversing with people who are in Vegas on their second mortgage, who strip for a living, or have put all of their faith into some imaginary winning streak that will magically correct all of their problems. More times than not, a black jack table conversation is incredibly depressing in Vegas. In Macao, however, its always lively, positive, and, at times, almost uplifting. For example, last week in Macao, my table consisted of a Parisian (funny story, he turned out to be gay, but I honestly had no clue until he made out with his bf, mostly because all gay-dars no longer function around Parisians), a Korean, and myself. English became the de facto language (our Korean friend couldn’t speak French), which meant whenever he got pairs, he’d start screaming “SPRIT, SPRIT, I WANT TO SPRIT!” You just don’t get that in Vegas! Yes, Vegas will put you into contact with depraved Eastern European cab drivers, Hispanic transsexuals, Puerto Rican/Chinese dudes, prostitute/equestrians, and adorable, naive Korean girls, but we can’t gloss over the fact that Macao attracts their fair share of interesting human beings. Vegas +1

Epicness: This is probably the most important factor. Assuming you don’t lose so much money that it effects the rest of your life, the paramount aspect of any gambling trip is how said vaca will be remembered: who did what, who did who, thank God x didn’t do y, was z a man, the meal at q was all-time, i can’t believe we got into club a, etc. Nobody (except for the kids in 21) remember every hand. Hell, a year later, most can’t remember if they ended the trip in the black or the red. As sappy as this sounds, what really count are the memories (Excuse me, I just vomited. I apologize for exposing you to such trite writing) In Vegas, all of these statements are applicable. In Macao, they’re not. The kind of fun you have in Macao is “wow that was a cool Cathedral, hahahah there are lots of Chinese people here, yay we won two hundred dollars, let’s go to that Aussie steak place in Lan Kwai Fong tonight to celebrate” kind of fun. Vegas, on the other hand, usually consists of 24-48 hours of epic hedonism that usually ends with farewell sentiments like “that was the best weekend of my life. Next year, same time, same place? Oh, and, dude, you should really get tested.” Vegas +2

Grand total: VEGAS +6. Evidently, Macao’s got a long way to go before it can compete with Vegas on every level. But it’s catching up. And if you’re in the neighborhood, it’s definitely worth your time to drop by. But, for the love of God, don’t fly all the way from America just to go to Macao.

TALES OF SAN FRAN (Only Two Weeks Late)

Right after Las Vegas, I headed to San Francisco, ostensibly to catch a transpacific flight, but really it was to see the love of my life: Aleks Sedaazalarazsas (no, really, that’s how you spell his last name). Aleks and I are an interesting tandem because he, like, cares about people and stuff. He’s intelligent, but humble. He treats people of all races, political ideologies, and sexual orientations with respect. Clearly, we’re polar opposites, yet we remain friends for two reasons: a) Aleks is too kind to turn down a request for a rendezvous (for a period during our friendship I referred to him exclusively as “Kathy Bates” and now its Sandy which is short for Sandy Vag and he still hangs out with me!); b) we both love beer. Needless to say, our encounters are always amusing and memorable, and when our favorite androgynous Macanese punmaster Spiffy Tiffy is added to equation…well, actually its a lot less amusing than you’d expect. Whatever, I’ll let you be the judge!

Worst Idea of the Weekend (Even Worse than Anything We Conceived in Vegas. And There Were a Lot): Sandy is well aware of my affinity for Indian food, and he suggested what he considered to be an appropriate send-off meal (My flight left at 1 AM which allowed us to have a leisurely dinner before heading to SFO). He knew of a delicious, yet relatively inexpensive Indian buffet in the neighborhood which all but decided it. Three trips through the buffet line later, I knew I’d made an awful decision that was both inconsiderate to my healing nether-regions and to the passengers in my general vicinity. I popped a couple Gas-X (nice foresight, mom!) hoping that would stave off any leakage for the twelve hour flight to Hong Kong…erroneous! I provided enough gas myself to get that 747 to Hong Kong. After four hours writhing in pain, I decided to inconvenience my seatmate, ask her to let me out even though she was asleep, and finally relieve myself, for everyone’s sake. I figured it was the least I could do. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like the awkwardness after returning from a 20 minute bathroom break and the knowing glances that are exchanged. After that, I did the only sensible thing; I downed a couple Tylenol PM and prayed that I wouldn’t wake up until landing in Hong Kong, where I would promptly blame the gas on the rather unfortunately overweight girl sitting next to me. Word to the wise: if travelling with me, perhaps one should arrange separate transportation and rendezvous there.

Most Conspicuous Absence in the Bay Area: Sandy’s ardently feminist, occasionally violent, Hispanic (in the words of GOB Bluth, she’s one of our Mexican friends from Ecuador) girlfriend never made an appearance. I couldn’t really understand why. She must have been on her period, or something. (JOKE! GET IT, BECAUSE SHE’S A FEMINIST! She would’ve loved that one).

Coolest City Name: So all Chinese city names in North America suck. They’re all simple transliterations (hey, say these out loud in a funny Chinese accent, and then you’ll get the gist!). For example: Ao Lan Duo is Orlando; Ya Te Lan Da is Atlanta; La Si Wei Ge Si is Las Vegas. Most of the time they don’t even mean anything. But there is one exception (there are a few more, like they literally translate Phoenix, but they’re few and far between and nowhere cool as this one): San Francisco is Jiu Jin Shan. Wait, that doesn’t sound like San Francisco at all? Why? Because it means “the Old Gold Mountain!” Which is totally awesome! And in future brog posts, this city will only be referred to as “the Old Gold Mountain,” and will be said/read in a tone that conveys a sentiment of antiquity and mystique.

The Metamorphosis: On Sunday evening, Sandy and I had a pretty epic night at the bars, and we went back to my hotel room around 2 am for a nightcap, after which he headed home. Before I left my room again, Spiffy met me there the following morning. To the casual observer on the staff of the Intercontinental, it would seem as if I went to bed with a hulking Eastern European male and emerged with a petite Asian female who’s five foot on a good day only a few hours later. But, you know what, its San Francisco, I guarantee that’s not the first time that’s happened. That doesn’t even rank on the bizarre fetishes scale in SF.

Most Potentially Embarassing Moment: No, it wasn’t while we were on the BART when we all admitted that we watched both the Big Bang Theory (I heart physics jokes) and How I Met Your Mother (WWNPHD). It was while in San Francisco’s International Airport, where while watching the most recent episode of How I Met Your Mother, that I MISSED EVERY SINGLE BOARDING CALL. I had been waiting in the airport for two hours, yet still managed to be the last person to board the plane. And it was totally worth it to see Barney hook up with Robin. The Brog’s affinity towards BC-born Portugese girls is well-documented.

Another Brogpology: I’d like to apologize to the readers for endangering the Brog’s credibility by allowing Spiffy to write an entry. I was in the shower and she commandeered my computer and wrote what could have been the most Asian post ever. Evidently, Spiffy finds blogging incredibly difficult without pictures of food to aid her endeavors.

Worst Pun: Since all three of us are Sinophiles on varying levels (me being on the low end of the totem poll), China is a frequent topic of discussion. And when talking about China, it’s hard to avoid talking about Shenzhen: the city that transformed itself from an obscure fishing village to the richest city in the Mainland. Well, the influx of cash isn’t the only deluge that Shenzhen has experienced; prostitutes from all over the country have flooded Shenzhen trying to get a piece of the action. This prompted me to say: “So, they’ve traded their fishnets for, well, fishnets.” I don’t think Aleks has spoken to me since.

Least. Heterosexual. Parking. Ever: One joke? Maybe? Come on, its San Francisco! The parking in San Francisco is inherently less heterosexual than everywhere else, per capita wise! (well, other than Key West). FINE, I take it back. How about the parking sucked? Is that ok with everyone? Here’s where I was going with this: Jand and the Mexican wolf were actually in town for the weekend, and fortunately our paths crossed for two hours. However, an hour and a half of this was spent driving back from the airport (by the way, thanks again), dealing with SF’s totally straight traffic (meaning it sucked, see, we can make straight negative too!), and then looking for parking for no less than 45 minutes. Good times. This did allow us time to smoke cigarettes, but that was pretty much the only positive aspect of the experience. I cite bad karma (wow, I really shouldn’t use that word any more in light of the previous post) for our lack of luck, because these two should’ve come to Vegas in the first place.

Biggest Douche Maneuver: I’m pleased to announce that I will not be the recipient of this award (sorry to eliminate the suspense). So, it’s Sunday night, and Sandy and I are at bar number three, and they have one of those nouveau/touch-screen jukeboxes. You know, the kind that actually has music you want to hear. Well, it’s about 130 at this point, and we decided we were going to create a bitchin’ playlist to close out the night. We spent about ten bucks and the amalgam of our music tastes meant an eclectic, yet palatable mix (in other words, he prevented me from going off the deep-end with Korean Pop and Rai ‘n’ B selections) consisting of Lou Reed, Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, The Pogues, Johnny Cash, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and others. Just as we had finished creating what was truly an epic playlist, the bartender comes up and asks us, “hey, do you mind if we play my CD instead?” As I remember it, I groaned audibly; given my level of inebriation, this meant it probably appeared as if I’d throw a tantrum (and rightly so!). But Sandy is way too nice and he told the bartender that “sure, we’d love to hear your cd;” this is a decision we’d come to regret deeply. Our new friend the bartender’s band apparently only had one musical influence: Limp Bizkit. For the next half hour, we not only had to deal with C-rate rap metal (not to mention a decade too late), we had to listen to the guy belt out the lyrics, point out favorite parts, and break down the meaning of the songs. It was don’t care city, and I was the mayor; thanks for almost ruining the night, douche.

In San Fran, Even the Homeless Are Environmentally Conscious! Sandy decided that we were all going to take the bus to the Indian restaurant. Sandy clearly forgot that I do not do well with public transportation that does not run on rails. About ten minutes into the ride (I know, because I’d only complained about the smell once, and I was pretty proud of myself), pandemonium breaks loose outside of the bus. A homeless woman is screaming at an Asian man standing directly in front of me: “LITTERER, LITTERER! YOU THREW A PIECE OF GARBAGE OUT THE WINDOW, LITTERER!” The professional looking guy in front of me protests his innocence, and I believed him, because a) I would have seen it if he had and b) the LADY IS A CRACK HEAD. Well, monsieur asiatique’s response was not enough to assuage madame tete de craque, and she brought the Asian’s supposed indiscretion to the attention of her two male friends. She resumed screaming “LITTERER, LITTERER!” while I prayed for the bus to leave, so that I could finally laugh (for fear of my life, I had covered my mouth and pinched myself to avoid aggravating Team Mental Instability). Well, her male friend mistook “LITTERER” for another, more pejorative insult and began to berate the young man as well: “Yeah, COCKSUCKER!” The homeless man decided he had not gone far enough, and proceeded to call him, “you COCKSUCKER-ETTE!” What I interpreted from the situation was that, not only does the male crack head suspect that the young Asian man regularly performs oral sex on other men, but that the Asian is secretly a woman as well! This continued for honestly a minute as San Francisco gridlock prevented us from moving much to my horror/secret delight. Sandy later confided in me that he didn’t think I was going to make it. Neither did I. The moral of the story, kids: don’t do crack.

MVP: Spiffy didn’t stand a chance, this was Aleks’ from day one. Not only does Aleks hate prohibition, he totally would’ve had Chipotle with me, had he been there. That’s mega-minus puntos for Spiffy. AND, Aleks invited us to the bookstore where he works (ugh, how quintessentially liberal) and got us all books on the house, including Amy Chua’s latest, and a The Onion Anthology. Aleks: bought me beer. Spiffy: did not buy me beer. Aleks: procured books for me. Spiffy: did not procure books for me. Aleks: tells funny stories. Spiffy: makes me zone out her stories. Aleks: don’t have to strain my neck to talk to him. Spiffy: do have to strain my neck to talk to her. Easy choice. Winner: Aleks!

May I preface that I consider mocking handicapped folks to be the most tawdry, vile form of humor…

but I have no qualms mocking the companies who make wheelchairs! Please consult the brand name of this one:

WHAT?! If this were the FAIL blog, this would undoubtedly be a KARMA FAIL! WHO NAMES A COMPANY THAT MANUFACTURES EQUIPMENT FOR PARAPLEGICS “KARMA?!” I almost approached the young women to tell her that her chair more or less screams “I did something awful in a previous life, and I’m paying for it in this one!” but decided that I would not be able to communicate the idea effectively in Chinese, and would redefine offensive no matter how I broached the subject. Oh, and don’t worry about the photo, she has no idea she was in it! I went into clandestine mode (and by that, I mean overtly touristy mode) and took a number of inane shots that would fit perfectly into a facebook album entitled “OMG I’m on the Taipei metro and I’m going to take meaningless pictures because I’m so cool and am in Asia and I really want to drive the point home that I’m in Asia and that makes me culturally superior to you because I live in Asia,” (think FOB signs, the metro map, and able-bodied Taiwanese) because I obviously didn’t want to offend the poor girl, Lord knows she’s dealt with unspeakable hardship in her life (Asians aren’t exactly the most accepting of disabled folks). I feel like an awful human being now, but I look forward to manning my very own karma-mobile in my next life.

Champions League Recap

-Sometimes my predictions make me look very intelligent and, often, in hindsight, I wish I had wagered a sizable amount of money on my hunches. This was not one of those occasions. I pretty much got everything wrong. I claimed that Barcelona and Liverpool would advance. Neither did. I argued that Barcelona would win because of their potent offense. They did not score. I boldly proclaimed that Chelsea and Liverpool would play dull, listless football. They combined for seven goals. Go me.

-I was unable to watch the first leg of the Chelsea match (I was over the Pacific), but from all accounts, it was a rather cagey affair. As well, it has been said that the result served as an accurate reflection of what transpired on the pitch, even though it came in the cruelest of fashion for John Arne Riise, who scored an own goal in the fifth minute of injury time. The second leg saw Chelsea dominate the first half, produce a deserved goal through Didier Drogba, only to see their lead vanish after Fernando Torres equalised. The game went into overtime, where Chelsea pulled ahead by two goals, which effectively ended any chance Liverpool had, they the Reds did pull one back in the form of a Ryan Babel consolation. Chelsea deserved to advance, and it was refreshing to see Liverpool lose a two-legged encounter, something that hadn’t occurred in some time.

-Speaking of Chelsea, did you know they did not have a single player in the FA’s Team of the Year? This is the team who could feasibly win the Premiership! I have to say, it’s a travesty that neither Michael Essien nor Joe Cole received a spot in the team. For my money, Michael Essien (with the lone exception of Cristiano Ronaldo) is the BEST player in the Premiership. Not only does he dominate the middle of the pitch, Chelsea demonstrated midweek just how valuable he can be at any position. Even though it might not be his preferred position, or the place on the field where he’s most effective, the discrepancy in quality between the Ghanaian and the overrated Paolo Ferreira, the aging Juliano Beletti, or the insipid Wayne Bridge was painfully apparent after Essien’s transcendent performance which combined tenacious defense, calculated passing, and puissant shots. His exclusion is lamentable, especially since this oversight was due to the inclusion of Steven Gerrard, who had a sub-par season for his standards.

-The Manchester United/Barca match had been billed as an exciting encounter of offensive heavyweights. 1 goal combined in 180 minutes of play made every pundit look like an idiot (including yours truly). Not only were their no goals, there was simply a dearth of true chances (Ronaldo’s penalty miss aside) for both teams, in particular in the second leg. Paul Scholes’ shot was inch-perfect, but an outside-of-the-boot rocket from 25 yards barely can be considered a half-chance. Barcelona was truly unlucky to not put one in the “back of the auld onion bag” (even the Cantonese commentary is better than Tommy Smyth!), as they dominated the possession in the second leg (at some point in the second half 65-35), but they were simply unable to translate this control into meaningful chances. Henry didn’t start, and was finally introduced with a little over ten minutes remaining. His impact was instant, as he forced Van der Sar into a few saves (more than the rest of the Barca attackers could claim). Though as an unabashed France supporter I’m partial on the subject, I don’t understand how Rijkaard could leave Henry on the bench for both legs against a side with which he’s so intimately familiar and has terrorized on so many occasions. A scorer as prolific as Henry comes to life in the Champions League, and in a big game, I’d rather take my chances with an out-of-form Henry than the diminutive Andres Iniesta (yes, he’d been in better form in the Spanish league, but I’m arguing the Champions League is a whole different monster and Henry would have made a better selection).

-Manchester United’s play throughout the Champions League this season has been nothing short of sublime. They are unequivocally the most deserved team to lift the big-eared trophy. As stated in a previous post, I only bet against them because I figured it would be impossible for them to continue to play such immaculate football. They hadn’t lost a game in the CL yet, I figured it was about time! I am officially mental. To demonstrate just how good Manyoo is, check out this nugget: Manchester United has only given up one goal in the knockout phase of the CL this year, and it was to the second best team in Europe. One goal in six matches against teams (OL, AS Roma, Barcelona) renowned for their offense? Yeah, I’d call that impeccable defense.

-I’d like to congratulate both teams that have progressed to the finals, Manchester United and Chelsea. And congrats to all of the bandwagon fans in America. I’m really glad I’m not in America, so I don’t have to deal with the myriad justifications for why kids from Los Angeles decided to support Chelsea four years ago or why people who don’t even know where Manchester is claim to be diehard fans? Can we call this the bandwagon bowl?

-Ninety percent of outre-match storylines regurgitated by the media pertaining to games such as the Champions League final are inane and barely worth the energy it takes my eyes to read it. But this one has a legitimate one: and no, I could care less that it’s a fucking all-England final. The Champions League final is being held in Moskva this year: also known as, the town Roman Abramovich built. Remember, he’s one of the few oligarchs who remains on good terms with Putin. Where’s Berezovsky? Exile (and not welcome back). Where’s Khodorkovsky? Jail. Abramovich on the other hand can stroll into the Kremlin whenever he damn pleases. Remember a few years back, in the final weekend of the Premiership, Tottenham was clinging to fourth (and the crucial last Champions League spot which translates into tens of millions of dollars in television revenue) when half of their team mysteriously came down with a stomach virus and Arsenal overtook them? No, no, I’m not insinuating the he WILL do anything, I’m just saying stranger things have happened in soccer. But, it wouldn’t shock me if something did. He has ruthlessly clawed his way to the top of the oil world. He has rewritten the rules of modern club ownership with unfair bidding practices towards smaller clubs. Would it be all that astonishing if he were to make life a little more difficult for Manchester United on his turf? Oh, and Mr. Abramovich, if you’d like to silence me, my address is…

-I’d also like to announce there will be another RIVE BROG for the Champions League final. Obviously, if OL were playing, I wouldn’t be able to fully concentrate on providing salient commentary and obsessing over every touch. But the fact is I’m not partial to either of these sides, and am just in the mood for some good football. And I feel a little brogging might just go hand in hand with CL final awesomeness. On verra!

My Best Friend Lesley said, “Oh, He Just Bein’ SOS-sy!” (Read: Update)

-In what constitutes a drastic change of heart from the Brog, as indicated in the previous post, I have moved to Taiwan. The reasons for this unprecedented about-face are manifold, but one in particular was the driving force behind the demenagement: the Chinese government. I’m used to their quirks, but this most recent development was simply too much. As alluded to in other posts, the implementation of new visa limitations decreed that I’d be allowed to stay in the country for 30 days, then I’d have to return to the United States to have a new visa re-issued and that in and of itself wasn’t even guaranteed. In other words, I’d have to jump over a number of hurdles and spend copious amounts of moonneaay to…be unemployed. No, thank you.

-I went to Shanghai anyway, because, hell, I’d already paid for a roundtrip ticket and a visa; I figured I might as well use it. My time there solidified my decision, as the whole of the expat community seemed apprehensive. Furthermore, I was a VERY greedy panda and my actions last weekend could have lasting, drastic repercussions with your friend and mine Zhong Han. One of the major disadvantages of my Mainland exodus is that I left a number of good friends (people to karaoke with) for a place where I have no friends (no one to karaoke with). Oh well, a lack of foreign friends will be good for my Chinese. Or something.

-The decision to move to Taiwan was not an easy one, but in reality it was my only one. I couldn’t stay in Hong Kong unemployed because it’s just too expensive, they don’t speak Mandarin, and it’s WAY too close to Macao. This left Taiwan. It’s ironic that I moved back here because three years ago I vowed to NEVER return to the pseudo-nation (see, there I go again, I can’t stop!). I determined that my previous negative attitude Taiwan was due to situations that didn’t directly relate to the island, its people, or its culture. For example, though I made some very close friends (that’s the nicest thing I’ll ever say about you, Spiffy), in general I didn’t like the people around me. I lived in one small room with three Taiwanese students sans internet or television. My new line of thinking is that if I’m able to live in a single avec internet and television, the resulting “me-time” will save my sanity. As well, last time I lived way out in the burbs, which prevented me from having easy access to Indian, Italian, and Mexican food. Living in downtown will allow me to more effectively avoid Taiwanese food and the infamous “ass-sauce” in which everything is marinated. I’m sure that all of this is a completely erroneous line of thinking, but I’ve convinced myself its true which should keep me content for at least a month.

-Ok, I know that judging people based on stereotypes is wrong, but until I meet a Nigerian in China who isn’t a drug dealer, I’m going to have to perpetuate that one.

-I have been in China/Chinese entities for a week, but didn’t have Chinese food until yesterday and that’s just because I was at the airport and my food options were limited. I have had Indian five times (HK’s Indian buffets are second to none, and Shanghai’s Indian delivery is awesome, especially when I make Zhong Han pay for it while I nap).

-The pun-master, Spiffy, sent me this pun. And it is delicious: “Do you know those Hallmark bears that people use for Valentine’s Day and shit, that say things like, I love you BEARY much? There should be break up bears instead, that say things like, I find you unBEARable, or let’s put things on PAWS. Or more to the point, I WANT TO FUCK OTHER BEARS.”

-I dominated Macao (more on that later) walking away with about a grand (which made me feel a lot better about my 500 dollar Shanghai getaway), but the Macanese had the last laugh. It ate my phone, which made for an aggravating weekend of using “landlines.” How very 20th century. Macao note: apparently Macao has such a cash surplus thanks to staggering gambling revenues, that each citizen will receive roughly 700 USD just for existing. This isn’t a stimulus package either. Just a package. A “thanks for being Macanese” package. Ok, you got me, I just like saying Macanese. Macccaaaanese. Rolls off the tongue.

-I accidentally went the wrong way on the people mover at HKIA (hey, it was on the opposite side!) and fell flat on my face. Then rolled backwards. It was so bad people stopped and pointed. I then hid at a waiting area on the other side of the terminal until boarding.

-I got to see my brother Pete in Shanghai. So, now our three most recent rendezvous have been as follows: 1) Stuttgart strip club; 2) New Jersey country club; 3) Shanghai silk market. Next rendezvous: a FARC camp in southern Colombia? And nothing amused him and his wife more than the fact that I speak Chinese like a 21 year old girl (no, really, I do. And, yes, it is far more embarassing than, I don’t know, falling face first on a people mover in Hong Kong’s airport), which is why in Taiwan, I’m going to try and make guy friends so that I can learn male speech patterns. That way, when I’m talking about football, politics, guns, and bitches, my sentences won’t be littered with expressions like the Chinese equivalent of “Oh. My. God,” “Totally!” and “oh, you thilly goose!” Will improvements be made? No, which is why any job interview in Chinese MUST be taped.

-I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce I will be setting up an auxiliary blog, that will be, how do I say, not funny. And entirely self-indulgent. It’s going to be geared towards my parents and friends of my parents who want to see pretty pictures and stories that don’t involve me being an alcoholic sociopath. I’m not going to link to it (these two will remain entirely separate entities) and please don’t mention this blog in the other one, but if you’re interested, I’ll send you the link in a few days when it’s up, just let me know. You should know that the Brog will remain uncompromising in its disparagement of everything Chinese related, but I must warn you ahead of time, the other one might use words like “Chinese culture” and “fascinating” in the same sentence without any hint of irony.

Indian food time, ciao!

Where In The World Is Brogmen Sandiego? PART DEUX

-I’m no longer in Hong Kong, I’m seeking my calling elsewhere.

-This city has a Hooters. I have a T-shirt from here. I’ve been told I wear it too frequently.

-If you were to picture this country as a train station, this city would be right at the north end of the platform.

-I can hardly mention this area of the world without using the word “pseudo.” And, apparently it gets really annoying.

-If I told you I’d never hooked up with a Honduran girl in this city, I’d be lying.

-This city has quite possibly the worst designed metro in the history of modern cities. For example: this city has a downtown airport that’s not connected to the subway. Rame.

-Jay Chou calls this place home. Not rame.

-This is slightly emasculating, but I’ve cried in this city before. Though I’m a very emotional being in general, I rarely break down. But I did here. Why? Because of the condition of a member of my family , a friend, or a lover? No. Because Olympique Lyonnais lost in the Champions League that year: the one year they were arguably the best team in the tournament. And I bawled like an eight year old girl who realized that either her pony had a) died or b) is never coming, depending to which social class she belongs.

-I once vowed I’d never return to this place. Low and Behold, I’m here. Where am I?!