floorpie

OK look, I’ve done some bad things in my Life, who hasn’t? I’ve killed a hell of a lot of insects, and a bird once. I’ve lied to friends and family. I’ve stolen goods from honest shop-keeps. I’ve broken countless laws. I’ve drunk alcohol before I was legally allowed to. I’ve had impure thoughts. I’ve been purposefully immoral.

I’ve done some stuff.

Generally speaking, though, I’d like to think I was a pretty decent guy. Sure, I’m an agnostic sinner, but still, I treat people pretty well. I’m fiercely loyal to my friends, and I am always there to lend a hand when anyone is in need.

Even so, karma definitely hates my fucking guts. “Why do you say that?” you ask. I’ll tell you why:

Not two blocks from the body shop, after picking up my truck after being repaired from the accident, I was at a red-light and… rear-ended again! Literally and honestly less than 5 minutes after dropping $750 to fix my bumper, it was smashed into again… by yet another person who was totally sorry and oh my god I wasn’t even paying attention. And all I could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

PS I’m fairly certain that this is god’s way of testing me to be one of the avenging angels of the Apocalypse. You may want to reconsider how you treat me. I’m just saying.

I think one of the other reasons I don’t sleep that much is that when I wake up, for whatever reason, my mind immediately starts consciously thinking about things… instead of slowly approaching full wakefulness and mental alertness as I imagine most people do. It’s nearly impossible to fall back asleep once I’m up to speed.

For the last two nights, I’ve woken up at almost exactly 5AM, and seemingly instantaneously started thinking about all the things I would have to do that day, or the ongoing things going on that I have to mulll over, or girls, or basketball, or the dream I just had, or on and on and on.

When I woke up early yesterday, I resorted to watching my Chinese copy of The Italian Job (summary: Charlize Theron is incredibly hot) to keep myself occupied until it was actually time to get up. When I wokeup at 5 today, I wrote this post… it being the thing I immediately started thinking about.

That, by the way, is also something I do a lot… mentally compose blog posts. This happens at random times while I’m doing any number of things, and almost never seems to be related to whatever activity I’m engaged in (this morning being an exception). The sad thing is, my mental composition is always better than my written one as I can never exactly remember the nuance and turn of phrase I had come up with.

I realize now, that this is something I have always done. As if giving myself a movie-style narrative to my life. It was only however may years ago that I had the opportunity to start a blog to capture all of these banal thoughts.

One other thing about China:

Foot Massages

Should you ever have the opportunity to get a foot massage, for god’s sake take it. It is, without a doubt, the best (legitimate) massage experience I have ever had. Here are the reasons why:

.: it’s oh so much more than the foot
.: there are hot rocks in bags
.: there are foot baths with ancient Chinese ingredients
.: they are 3 hours long!

To call this thing a “foot” massage is really a misnomer, and I can only wonder what the full-body massage must have been like if this wasn’t already it. I’ve had massages in the States that were purportedly full-body that weren’t anywhere near as relaxing as this mere foot job was… and only a third as long, too.

Also, it’s extremely impressive that a lithe, 40kg Chinese girl has the hand strength to absolutely destroy you after 3 hours of intense massaging. That’s just not something you get from squeezing tennis balls (not that I do that, either).

Optional activity: follow up the massage with buying “real” DVD’s and then getting sushi with prodigious sake on the side.

buh?

I have an ammendment to yesterday’s question: why do all of the hott, intriguing women of LA have boyfriends… or no interest in me?

It’s an important distinction.

And, OK, not actually true, but it seems like it when you have a negatively selective memory like I do.

I spent a slightly bewildering night last night with one of these very same women meeting her parents and family, and having dinner with them. But it wasn’t like I was “Meeting Her Parents”, I was just merely “meeting her parents” with no meaning attached to that other than the definition of the individual words.

The slightly bewildering part came from either her mom or aunt (I forget which) who responded to my polite greeting of something like, “Thank you for having me and letting me invade your family gathering,” with, “My pleasure! We’ve been waiting to meet this guy we’ve been hearing so much about!”

buh?

I have a question for you: why do all of the hott, intriguing women of LA have boyfriends?

I think I just answered my own question. sigh

The last few nights have been late ones.

Thursday was pool at Hollywood Billiards followed by music and, err, libations at Kruang Tedd and Jumbo’s Clown Room next door. I succeeded in making an ass of myself hitting on the house-band singer. My night ended at 3 and my day started at 7. Generally not sleeping very much has its advantages.

Friday was a bit more low-key, celebrating a friend’s birthday at a Thai restaurant (I’m sensing a theme), and telling my friends why they should all visit China as soon as possible… especially the single and amoral ones. We neglected to go go-kart racing due to weather and instead played Trivial Pursuit; which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is exceedingly dorky. There’s something about sitting around and interacting with your friends… your really good friends, though, that is irreplaceable. That night ended merely at 1.

Last night was Kruang Tedd, again, as by then I’d fallen in love with the aforementioned singer. The jazz was really good last night, thanks mostly to my friend the sax player, and I’ll definitely be back. I bailed out at midnight when things got a little weird… and met a friend at Star Shoes down the street. I started out standing in the ugly-people’s line, but my not ugly friend was thankfully able to vouch for me. Here’s the thing about Star Shoes: Star Shoes is dark. So who knows what the hell you’re talking to. It was fun, though, and at least I got to dance. Yes, I’m one of those guys. Mostly because I just don’t care.

Anyway, that night capped off with splitting a hot dog with my girl (space, space) friend from a street vendor on Hollywood Blvd. at 2 in the morning, while walking by a club-goer puking on his shoes. I mean, you just can’t have a night better than that, right?

Last night, I was pretty keyed-up for no particular reason and was being furiously productive. With so much of my work being implemented in Asia, I have a lot of e-mail contact with people overseas; which, due to the time difference, pretty much guarantees that I’ll have some 75 e-mails waiting for me in the morning… unless I’m awake to respond to them in real-time. As such, I came into work to find only about 25 or so.

It’s kind of a let-down.

Eventually, I got a bit disgusted with myself for being so diligent, and decided to instead do something entertaining. Normally, this would mean, of course, PORN, but because I’m staying at a friend’s house still, it meant a regular movie instead. So, lying in the dark alone in bed, laptop propped up on my, err lap, and headphones in my ears, I watched one of my China DVD purchases: The Professional

I’ve seen this movie at least 3 times; but the last time was at least 10-15 years ago. I remembered that it was good, but I didn’t remember that it was that good. Natalie Portman was incredible, Jean Reno was incredible, Gary Oldman was incredible… I was shocked that I hadn’t memorized every line from the last couple of times I saw it. It’s that good.

Also, I want to be a cleaner when I grow up.

The thing about being back in the US is that I now understand everything people are saying… and they also understand me. Which means, unfortunately, that I can no longer hide behind my own non-understood sarcasm and unintelligible comments. It also means that no else can, either. I can only wonder what was said about me behind my back right in front of me.

I was so much more introspective in China because I had the time to be so. In a lot of ways, it was a reminder why I never want to live in a cabin in the woods… too much stuff floating around in my head.

Also, as more evidence that there is something just fundamentally wrong with me, I again (despite the 16-hour time difference) have no ill effects from jet-lag. I didn’t suffer the last time I went to Asia, either; but, I was heavy into caffeine at the time, and I thought that that might have been the reason. Seeing as I’m mostly off caffeine now, and I’ve slipped back into this time zone without a second glance, I’m clearly just weird.

I think there’s something a little poetic about my not having really used a fork, recently, until my flight back to the US. On the one hand, it’s good to be back, while on the other hand, the food sucks.

Actually, my karma is already taking quite a beating, and people are now asking me, without sarcasm, “So uh… what’s going on with you, lately?” Why would they ask, that, you also ask? This is why:

Myth:Bad things happen in 3’s
Result: True
My own case in point, and big three for the year:

1. ADG and I break up
>2. My apartment burns down, and…
3. My car got rear-ended this morning on the way to work!

Yes, today was my first day back in the States, yes my insurance company is going to start wondering if I’m a high risk insuree after all of these claims, and yes my apartment is still not renovated and I therefore am still crashing at a friend’s.

Yes, I realize I just said “crashing”.

The damage is not horrible and my truck is still driveable, but this is just another thing to add to the list of things I don’t have time to be dealing with right now. You’d think it would be enough that I have no place to live, but apparently I had a really great sinful and karma-damaging time in a previous life… possibly several.

I question the validity of that well-known slur that the Chinese will eat anything with four legs except a table; I’ve seen for myself that this definitely isn’t true. Chinese food, however, is indeed different (read: better…I’ve never eaten as well as when I have been in Taiwan or China.) than that in America. A summary of stuff I’ve eaten that I probably couldn’t find in America:

.: kangaroo
.: whole fish: heads, tails, and all
.: a dizzying array of octopi
.: sea cucumber… this one was the only one I hesitated on, on account of I actually had a couple of these in my old fish tank, and I wouldn’t have considered eating them on first or second glance. Not bad, though.
>
I don’t understand the Western fear of eating in foreign countries. It’s food after all!

UPDATE
.: snails

Karaoke, Mark II

Today was the end of the 6-day work week here in China, which means only one thing… KARAOKE!!!

>Actually, what it really means is: WHOREHOUSE THINLY DISGUISED AS KARAOKE! This time, I only lasted to the second round of 10 girls before I picked one… or more correctly, the mama-san picked her for me because she “spoke English”. Here is her entire vocabulary (and lest you think I’m criticizing, it is equal to my grasp of Mandarin):