OMG I haven't posted in so long LMAO ROFLz0rz

Heyyyy guys,

The good news:
I didn't die or anything, I just haven't posted in a reeeaaaally long time.

The better news:
Even though I wasn't blogging the past few...months...half year... a lot of funny stuff still was happening to me and I have planned out several blog posts!

The bad news:
Well those posts will still be a long time coming because I have to hunker down and study for the LSATs, which I'm taking in June. I have to unplug myself from Internet distractions for the next 5 weeks!!!!

OK, I'm extremely sorry and guilt-ridden for not having posted in so long, and all the while there was good material, I mean I'm a magnet for embarrassment and humiliation so there was plenty of fodder I could have picked from. I'm just also unabashedly lazy and once I hadn't blogged in a while, it was just too easy to NOT blog and then let the funny stories keep accumulating unblogged.

Well, after the June LSAT, never fear, there will be a deluge!!

XO,
Viv

nada mucho

I've been at home slowly going insane for the past week now. I need to regroup and continue blogging more faithfully. Give me a few more days to at least clear a space in my house large enough for me and my Asus EEE PC and some munchies as I hunker down to document the most recent adventures.

my very first open mic night

Unbeknownst to everyone I know in Hong Kong, I went to perform my first attempt at stand-up comedy at Take-out Comedy in Soho.

So, I had known about weekly open-mic nights at this club for several months. But I didn't go until this week, my last week in Hong Kong.

Why did I wait if I had known about it for so long?

#1, I had to grow some balls.
#2, I had to make sure it would never see any of these people again.

So, when I finally got to the comedy club, there were only 3 spectators: 2 old men and 1 older woman. There were 4 other middle-aged males who showed up to perform. And the owner of the club. So I guess that makes 8 complete strangers, 1 big-ass empty room, and 1 nervous girl fiddling with her cue card.

Seriously, the youngest person in the room other than me was at least 35 years old.

This is definitely not something I'm terribly proud of, I'm only posting it here because this file is too large to email to my closest friends.

*FYI: Wanchai is a popular red-light district in Hong Kong, Prive and Dragon-I are popular nightclubs, LKF and Soho are bar districts.

my case for sustainable development

Here is my final presentation to my colleagues about the historical context of sustainable development and my take on its current status in the planning, construction, and real estate consulting industry. (Unfortunately there is a nervous edge in my speaking voice that did not wear off for some time, because this was basically a dry run.)

quantum of happiness

So now the election is over, and OH, FL, VA, MN, etc. don't suck anymore. (But MO still does.)

 

All this drama has gone on for so long that I don't feel very climaxed after all. What am I going to read about on Google News now? Actual economic reform policies versus how much Sarah Palin spends on hair and makeup?

 

And please, will John McCain go and retire/die of old age already?!

poverty line, pt. 2

I signed up to get weekly notices from the local comedy club, which features local comedy talent. By talent I mean, the shitty improv actors and randos and occasionally half-decent amateurs who frequent this dimly lit basement joint's stage.

 

You might laugh last. But you won't laugh for free. The comedy club weekend shows are 150 HKD a pop, and weeknights are 50 HKD. Now that I have fallen below the poverty line, such extravagances are out of the question.

 

Besides, I can amuse myself by talking to a local or reading some Engrish on a t-shirt and I would probably laugh more from that than from watching a comedy lineup in which 1 in 6 acts are funny.

 

But the other thing about being below the poverty line is that you get really good at spotting the word "FREE." Thus it was that I've noticed something in the weekly comedy emails. It goes something like this:

 

"Tuesday night: English standup comedy. FREE to perform, $50 for others."

 

I've been so conditioned to thinking about freedom (I mean free things) that I contemplated going to this bootleg basement and performing a standup routine. Because it's free.

 

But after the heady rush of a low-cost-high-carb-low-vitamin diet recedes, sobriety kicks in.

 

Is dignity ever free?

Is respect?

Self-respect in particular?

 

Those are things you have to consider when you're below the poverty line.

poverty line, pt. 1

I started running low on toothpaste about three weeks ago. Now I'm at the point where I have to squeeze all the way from the very bottom at the crimp, running my little fingers along the tube as tightly as possible, just to eke out a small pathetic dot of paste to deposit onto my toothbrush bristles.

Curse those days in August when I grabbed my toothpaste and nonchalantly, indiscriminately, squeezed oversized (fully pea-sized) strips of paste far larger than I should have allowed!

I walked by the drugstore the other day and a new, fat, glossy tube costs 8 HKD, or slightly over 1 US dollar.

But I am so concerned--that I might not have enough cash to buy food for the next 15 days--that I could not bring myself to shell out the 8 honkies.

See, if the choice is between food, or stuff to clean food off your teeth, what would you prioritize?

That is where Wux draws the true poverty line.

O Ba Ma

The Asian news media is definitely biased.

 

The reporters only ever talk about one candidate in Election 2008. He's the only Western politician EVER with a name they are able to pronounce.

 

(Luckily it seems he will be elected, so funny anchors can continue saying "O Ba Ma" !)

the real soulja boy

I just found out that my brother recently successfully completed the Special Forces Assessment and Selection.

Wikipedia, the arbiter of all knowledge, says it is "the toughest selection training in the world and is meant to weed out those who would not make it in a real Special Forces mission."

That means he can probably kill a KGB spy with an exacto knife in under three seconds now.

Shit, I am not gonna mess with him from now on!

*Unfortunately I can't find any photos of him and nobody can know he exists...so...this blog will self-destruct in five seconds.

the 43-year-old virgin

After getting to know Dr. Lawyer more, I began to think of him as the 43-year-old virgin.

Why? you ask. Why would any warm-blooded human being aged 43 be a virgin?

Well, he was just so harmless and inexperienced at life. Of course I didn't straight-up ask him if he had ever been laid. But consider the supporting evidence. He was an unmarried Chinese man. He didn't really drink and he definitely didn't know how to party. I found that out when we met for coffee...which turned into dinner...which was like five straight hours of hanging out together.

Over coffee and much of dinner, we mostly talked about Taiwanese politics and ethics, health care and social equity. We chatted freely about many things--including his social life, and differences between dating culture in America and Asia, and how he felt uncomfortable flirting with women sometimes, how his parents had tried to set him up many times before in China, and how he didn't go out to bars or clubs much, and how he hadn't even tried most types of hard liquor.

Then, sometime around 9PM, I started feeling a little talked out. I was a bit tired and couldn't think of any more Supreme Court precendents to have profound discussions about. I was also getting the feeling that Dr. Lawyer's social growth had definitely been retarded when he was younger and it wasn't my responsibility to get him up to speed. In other words, I didn't want to play the Paul Rudd to his Steve Carell.

"Well, it's getting late, I have plans to meet people later," I fibbed. "Shall we?" I started taking out my wallet and fingering bills so that he would get the message.

I walked home shortly after settling the bill. I turned on the TV for some white noise as I started doing hair and makeup. I figured that I might as well get ready to go out, and try calling some people to see if they wanted to go out, if I had already said I was going to go out.

Then my phone rang, not 20 minutes after leaving dinner. It was Dr. 1965. "Hi Vivien, did you get home already?"

"Well...yes," I said. "Is something wrong? Did you go home already?"

"No, I'm still in Central. I was just wondering, are you doing anything right now?"

"Well...I was just resting at home...oh and I'm going to go out with some friends later."

"Do you want to go to a bar right now?"

"What?"

"Well, you said I should try to go out more...maybe we could have drinks? You said you are not doing anything right now."

"Well...okay," I agreed with some slight hesitation. I felt bad saying no, since I did encourage him to experience more nightlife, and I am generally very agreeable once I get a drink in my hand.

I put on a party dress, touched up my eyeshadow, grabbed a clutch, and headed out to Lan Kwai Fong.

I brought 1965er to one of the rooftop bars for a nice view and overpriced drinks. If he was a corporate lawyer who never went out, he ought to be able to afford it. Since he didn't offer to pay for coffee or dinner, and then troubled me to go out, I gambled that he would offer to pay, which he did.

I got a whiskey ginger (my new signature drink, vodka tonic is so 2007) and showed him the outdoor balcony with the nice view.

"Wow, it is so great" 1965 exclaimed.

"So, I take it you've never been to a rooftop bar."

"No, first time."

There's a first time for everything. Even when you are 43 years old.

Somehow, we got to talking about more deep and profound geopoliticalmoral topics, yet again. Looking back on it now, I am amazed that we had talked about that shit for so many hours.

A little after midnight, though, when parties really get started in most legit clubs, I started feeling a little restless with 1965 and decided to go hang out with people my own age for a change. I sent a few text bombs as I nodded along to whatever 1965 was saying. But it turned out that my friends had bailed on clubbing. So I couldn't use that excuse. But there is always pleading tiredness, which I was sure 1965 could understand. I excused myself semi-apologetically, hailed him a cab, and sent him home; then turned around and walked back to my flat.

About 15 minutes later, as I got ready to pass out, I heard my phone ringing. Dr. 1965, again?!

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi, Vivien, did you get home ok?"

"Yes, I'm about to go to sleep, I take it you got home already?"

"Yes, I did. I was just calling because I felt bad, I should have gotten cab for you, I didn't know what was going on. I thought maybe you wanted to get rid of me? But it occurred to me that I should have first made sure you got home ok."

"Oh...ha ha ha," I polite-chuckled. "No, not at all. It's ok. Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself. Have a good night."

"Uh..ok. Good night."

Of course it was true, someone that much older should definitely have known better. But this was probably only his third time ever going out. You have to make room for these people with limited social intelligence.

The next day, I opened my email and received the following email from 1965.

From: 1965

To: me

Subject: meeting again

欣儒:

你好! 昨天我們一起聊了很久，我很開心。

你這年輕就讀了那多書，真的了不起。我相信你將來一定會很有成就。

你也很漂亮和性感，跟你一起到酒巴，我很高興。


後天是公共假日，你有時間一起吃飯或者喝咖啡嗎？

-Dr. Lawyer

I read through the email and I could pick out maybe half of the characters and guess 25% but the rest was a mystery. Basically he was asking to meet again...that much I could tell, as well as from the apt subject line. I didn't know if I wanted to keep playing the Paul Rudd to his Steve Carell though. I went on to answer other emails and tried to not think about it for the time being.

But a little while later, I went back to the email. I recognized the characters for "pretty" (piao liang) and "I was very happy" in the penultimate sentence of the email. I didn't know the rest of the sentence though.

Enter Google Translator. I copied and pasted the sentence into the text box and clicked "translate."

What I saw there on my screen will be forever emblazoned into my memory.

To say I was horrified is an understatement. I felt unsettled for the rest of the day.

But the skeptic in me said, sometimes things are lost in translation. Maybe Google Translator was a little off. I decided to consult the dictionary.

Shit. Maybe this dictionary was not the best one. Collins Dictionary sounded kind of bootleg. I should consult the web Chinese dictionary standard: http://www.zhongwen.com/, beloved by Chinese language students everywhere.

Shit.

I ran it by one of my colleagues from mainland China. The news there was equally grim.

Not so innocuous after all, I had to admit. After this, I didn't see him again (he was on his way out of Hong Kong anyway to accept a position with a new firm in the States). I can't understand how or why he thought it was appropriate to say something so bold. All I know is, he ruined something that was a decent acquaintance-turning-into-friendship, and I have seriously re-evaluated age limits now.