stupid asian girls

overheard on the subway:

dumbass asian girl with dyed hair and googly eyes: chinesechinesechinesechinesechinese, you know? chinesechinesechinesechinese, you know? chinesechinesechinese, you know???

asian guy: NO.

who the hell adds foreign words to the end of all their sentences? the only time i've ever encountered this in real life was hearing crazy anime fans adding "ne" to the end of all their fucking sentences.

NOT OKAY.

this made me feel better:

conversation with a pla soldier

me: hi, can you tell us how to get to the museum with the drawings in it? (aka the art museum in non-retarded chinese)
pla: um....are you chinese?
me: yes but i grew up abroad and my chinese is really bad i'm sorry.
pla: ....really?
me: yep.
pla: ok, i'll give you directions, but first, will you be my friend?

keep in mind that in chinese, "friend" can refer to both a platonic friend and boyfriend depending on the context. and his friend was snickering in the background.

me: what?
pla: can we be friends? you don't need to know chinese to answer, you can just say "yes" or "no" in english.
me: this is confusing.
adrienne: why are you confused, is he speaking shanghai-ese?
pla: can. we?
me: STRUGGLE.
pla: come on just give me your phone number. you can ask me all about china, and then you can tell me about the states. i just want a number.

apparently what mummy and papa wu told me about how "jiefang jun shushu" could help me out of any situation NO LONGER APPLIES.

hate.

there are worse things than sitting at one's desk, putting together a survey for asian parents who send 2 year old children to English class, while it's 100 degrees outside and your seat is conveniently located next to the open door.

for example, having to endure all of the above AND wanting to throw up on everything in sight.

this was a weekend of epic failure. After going for a swim last tuesday, i noticed that my right ear was plugged up, which happens every so often and is usually not a cuase for worry. except, by friday, when i STILL remained partially deaf, i decided i had enough of being an old person and took the day off work to mosey along over the the hospital.

which is in changning.

which will now be renamed "hell."

changning, which is really not navigatable unless one has a vespa, at least. actually, vespa riders, while marginally faster than cars in normal shanghai (because they can drive on the sidewalk, thereby eliminating the one last bastion of safety for pedestrians), would probably be reduced to a light stain of blood and tears on one of changning's extra-wide deathtrap streets.

after an hour on the subway, i decided i was going to be late if i had to wait for my transfer train, so i left the metro station and tried to flag down a taxi. after being kicked out of 5 cabs (denied entry is probably more accurate, seeing as i never made it in), i figured that in my panicked, disabled, and sweaty state, i looked like a crazy loon and should probably take the subway like all the other social pariahs.

taking the subway had been the recommendation of none other than mr. gang chen, who had assured me that the hospital was "very close" to the metro station. that was a lie. gang chen is a liar.

the hospital was half and hour walking distance from the metro. i ran for about 1/4 of the way, but this extra speed was probably negated by the fact that the temperature clocked in at around 100 degrees (F), thereby assuring that my normal pace compared more or less to a sedated turtle afflicted with acute arthritis and mild retardation.

upon arriving at the shanghai united family hospital, (apparent) oasis of health for all the expats of pastel-polo, slick-chinos, aryan-and-not-apologizing-for-it variety (seriously, it was like summering in the hamptons on lsd), i was informed that they couldn't directly bill any of my insurances. i had three insurance policies, one of which was from yale, for the express purpose of international travel. it turns out that that policy was actually the most useless of the three.

i called their number to inquire about my situation.

medex: hi, may i help you?
me: i can't hear out of one ear. your policy is worthless. what do i do.
medex: it's not an emergency, is it?
me: well, the potential for permanent deafness does not generally result in death i suppose, so no.
medex: ok. we only really pay for certain things.
me: such as?
medex: like if you need to be airlifted out of the country for medical treatment.
me: oh. yeah i dunno if that's necessary.
medex: or for the repatriation of your mortal remains.

basically, unless i die, i can't use their insurance. which is entirely retarded, but personally after i stop breathing i really don't give a shit what happens to me.

so i tried to call my parents to figure out what's going on with my private insurance, and i instead reach what i assume was the at&t collect calling center.

lady: now what the hell (pronounced hay-all) are you tryin' to do?
me: call my parents. in the states.
lady: and how you gon' pay for that??
me: um.....credit card?
lady: and what's that number?

keep in mind that mama and papa wu had always taught me from a young age to never give out my credit card number to an unverified person. it came in the same lecture as "don't talk to strangers" and "don't date a black man." so, just to make sure, i said:

me: this is the at&t center, yeah?
lady: well i just can' deal with you right now, good NIGHT!

and then the bitch hung up on me.

defeated, without the 1000RMB on me it would take to see the doctor, i took a cab home. by this time i was crying out of frustration and really had no idea what the cab driver was saying to me because i couldn't hear anything. so the taxi man picked up a crying mute girl at the hospital.

he probably thinks i had leukemia or something.

anyway, saturday i went to the clinic with enough cash to pay for that ridiculously overpriced fixin' of my hearing pans (1216RMB exactly). everying was great, the slightly overzealous doctor had ordered a thorough cleansing of both ears in addition to getting rid of the fluid in one ear, and so i could hear everything, i was healthy, and it was still 100 degrees outside, but i had my romper and all 4 senses (the eyes have long been a lost cause).

then i got food poisoning.

so, for the past three days i have lived within two states: sharp hunger and biting nausea. i thought i was going to be ok today after eating a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and not wanting to die.

then i ate a crepe for lunch and have been fighting the urge to hurl since.

to make things even better, i've just been informed that the glass door i sit in front of has a history of breaking off the hinges and falling in the direction of my desk. it is a windy day today. my boss told me he doesn't think i will die but not to take his word for it because he doesn't me to later sue him for worker's comp.

in other news, the shanghai sex museum is home to thousand year old dildo.

ON THE UPSIDE: the sky is blue. for the first time in more than a month, i have seen a blue sky. this hasn't happened since the day i left yale.

"i have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff"

talking with amy (which is never a good idea if you plan on keeping a firm grip on reality), i suddenly came to realize that this is my last summer as a teenager. next january, i officially hit the big 2-0. i realize that i would find myself the subject of ridicule and judgment if i bemoaned my aged status and complained about how i felt that much closer to death. i'm still young (the efforts of the class of 2012 to undermine that notion are opposed by my sheer immature idiocy), and there's only a year's difference between 19 and 20, but somehow that particular birthday holds a disproportional significance.

perhaps it's because next year i will enter the decade in which i will hopefully graduate from university, establish a failed career, move out on my own, maybe get married (although, considering current circumstances, that's looking increasingly unlikely), have to cook for myself, pay rent, insurance, tuition (if i get into grad school). people have kids in their 20's. (people also have kids in their teens but they tend to be brushed under the proverbial social carpet in polite conversation.) there seems to be very little difference between what one is expected to do in his or her twenties and in the rest of life. except maybe the children, but children are a different ballgame, as things having to do with the uterus generally are. so, i feel like there's a world of difference between my capabilities and that of someone who is, say, 35, and yet soon we will be facing the same responsibilites.

in short, i will become a real person. (!)

i'm terrified because, team be real, i'm still fighting the battle against asian fetishes - which, granted, i have a lot of allies in - and here i am expected to establish serious relationships amongst friends and more, because once we move out from the nest we have to form a support network to brace ourselves against the cruel, cruel work and all its sick and sadistic machinations. without my friends, mama and papa wu would have driven me mad a long time ago. i would also be attending mit, studying engineering. i think you can all imagine that emotional disaster. speaking of which, i have to find a way to sort out things between my parents and me, because while having a dysfunctional relationship with mommy and daddy is expected as a teenager, it's rather pathetic afterwards. which will be a daunting task, considering papa wu currently wants me to take the mcats next year and apply to medical school.

keep in mind that i have never taken a pre-med course in my life. i know no orgo. if nothing else in my life is certain, i can at least say with absolute, utter confidence that i would fail the mcats like an asian girl at her first driver's test.

now, all i want from my last year of teenage idiocy is a memorable summer - to have my youthful idiocy evolve into some form of semi-maturity. the likelihood of that happening is slim to nil, but alack. such is life.

it's not going to happen because i am in china. yesterday i saw a man with a beatles bowlcut, except the back was really long. it was like javier bardem in no country for old men plus mullet. too bad i'm not spending this summer in some appropriately languid and nostalgic setting, like a lake cottage. with a childhood friend living next door. we would bond over some tragedy and have existential crises and achieve some sort of resolution in our lives. then we would go on tour with the band of our dreams and fall in love with a groupie only to find that the guitarist is an asshole. then we would go to a mountain resort where i would fall in love with an older dance instructor and practice lifts in a pond.

oh wait, i am not jennifer grey and my life isn't a coming of age film.

in other news, people 7 is the weirdest mindfuck bar ever. it's in this concrete building with no sign-- just stairs leading up to a dead end. there's gray walls all around you. in front of you are nine holes in the wall. you stick your hand into a hole twice-- if you choose the wrong hole, the wall to your left slides back to reveal a mirror with the word "gotcha!" written on it. choose the right hole, and the wall to your left opens up, which leads into the actual restuarant. the bathrooms are similarly eerie -- an industrial hallway leads to unmarked doors. the one at the end of the hall opens to a mirror. the ones on the side open up to bathrooms, but the knobs are on the wrong side -- you have to push on the "hinge" side to get in.

all in all, extremely odd.

also, at lunch today i saw a couple spoonfeeding each other ice cream and vomited a bit in the back of my throat.

delicious

edit: THINGS THAT SUCK

the bad thing about living in china is that it's currently 5:30 PM on a Friday and not only is everyone still here, they are still DOING SHIT.

this didn't even happen when i worked at that nuclear fusion lab.

-end of things that suck-

if anyone's in shanghai now or going sometime or even thinking of going, i highly recommend taikang lu, lane 210. it's a winding alleyway full of small boutiques, cafes, bars, and art galleries. it's pretty clean and more expat (i think) than moganshan lu- more commercial and less arty. if moganshan lu is a williamsburg hipster, taikang lu is a manhattan hipster.

there's a vintage shop , delicious pizza places, a shop dedicated entirely to scarves (enough to make john riley emit that chicken squawk he likes to do), and a little boutique in which everything is branded either with an angry panda named "hello panda" or with 1950's era communist icons (peasant, worker, and soldier) in quite ironic situations (i.e. being more than comrades -- having a threesome makeout session).

in short, it is a wonderful place and i love it.

unfortunately, having calculated my expenses, i am fucked.

and closing with some thoughts on john riley:

pinkpink123: hahahahahaha
john cannot interfere
if he were a woman
hed do the same
and hed have higher heels
and redder lips
me: hahahahahahha
and be swathed not only in black cloth
but a black disposition

pinkpink123: hahahahahahahaha
hes also not a williamsburg hipster
me: no he is like....
he's def a manhattan hipster

things i want

before i go to england, i am picking a week to wear nothing but black clothes and red lipstick and really tall heels. i told this to gang, who said,

gang: why would you do this?

me: why do i ever do anything?

gang: i suppose you hate yourself that way.

"we have drink upstairs. wanna play?"

i was mistaken for a prostitute. not once, but twice.

i have never been so grateful for lucite stripper heels in my life. at least in america, that's what separates hos from girls who are just recreationally skanky. but in the land of problems (china), prostitutes dress pretty conservatively, so apparently my dress from target was enough to signal to an entire club, "HELLO. if you are old, rich, and white i love you long time, at least until the onset of herpes."

the offending dress in question

because, apparently you are not even allowed to lean on the backs of couches in a club. adrienne did so because oh maybe we were tired. and then some asian lady with an old white man taps us on the shoulder and asks if we want to have a drink. to which we reply "you are sitting with a man with an asian fetish and probably pedophilia. no thank you ma'am."

five minutes later, an asian woman with entirely too much glitter on her face puts her arm around me. when such situations occur, i think it best to pretend not to understand, so i told her i didn't speak chinese, to which she replies,

"oh no problem. we have party table upstairs yeah? we give free drink, you come, you sit. wanna play?"

to which i replied,

"i am going to feed some orphans right now so in my next karmic reincarnation i never have to come across anyone like you ever again."

speaking of glitter, several bitch ass hos (and i say that without feeling bad, because that's what they were--- bitches because they were blocking the napkin dispensers, hos because, well, that's what they do for a living) were changing into bikini tops in the bathroom and had slathered on the glitter onto their cleavage, which was entirely unnecessary because HELLO WE ARE IN CHINA. the shinyness will not make them look bigger. after a certain point, one just has to accept the fact that HELLO I AM ASIAN I HAVE THE BODY OF A PREPUBESCENT LAD.

that night, i knew it was about time to go home when i walked down the stairs and there were two midgets standing on the bar, dressed like teachers, but teachers you only ever see in saturday morning cartoons from japan, or perhaps morally questionable lolita schoolgirl porn (these two can be the same thing). there were actually girls dressed in school uniforms instead of gogo dancers. and then i decided that my life had become a cariacature, and i needed to leave before i tried to strangle myself with my purse.

but then sunday night hung out with the whiffs after sneaking into their concert because it's my goal in life to be lucas o'connor, so life was good again. except i realized that i work for a company that makes bondage ads. but them i remembered that OH WAIT I HAVE A BALLERINA DRESS.

that is all.