I was sitting on the picnic bench in front of Gladstone coffee, becoming increasingly frustrated because the wifi connection wasn't connecting. A droopy frown emerged on my face, my shoulders bent forward and I was the model of a summertime geek basked in the yellow rays of the warm sunset.
Dirty looks shot from my eyes, but Macbook Xiao Zhu (Zie Zie's new name) didn't react to my angry eyebrows. Technology tends not to react to human emotion because we're not made of the same guts.
I peeked up over Xiao Zhu's screen as a breeze rounded over my freckles and I heard two short blippy beeps. I turned left and saw three Latino dudes in an early-90s sedan, all of whom were looking right back at me. In unison, they nodded their chins at me. The front seat passenger pursed his lips and half-mimed a saucy peck on my cheek from 20 yards away and across a bike lane.
Confusion washed over me, until I realized that they just did a drive-by holla. I got holla'd at.
Just a month ago, not one soul in Changsha would have given me a second look unless it was to scoff at me. Now my self-esteem is peaking and my game is shooting out of my fingertips like lasers as I hone in potential make out partners.
America is a land of plenty. And I'm gonna get me some plenty.
Apparently, I'm raunchy.
Daniel's in touch with former volunteers and heard that an ex-teacher, who taught at my school a couple years ago, deemed my blog raunchy.
I've been called lots of adjectives, but I've never been called this.
Thank goodness my moms doesn't read this thing.
An excerpt from a chat between Nat and I about the boys I saw my first time at Changsha's underground punk club 4698.
amyadoyzie: there were seriously like a dozen dudes i woulda wanted to make out with
a DOZEN of them in MAINLAND CHINA!
can you believe that?
natalie: making out is A-OK in my book
but aren't you a little curious about the China peenie???
amyadoyzie: not really
because once i see it, i'll have to do things to it
amyadoyzie: and i'd REALLY REALLY rather not do anything to a pee pee that doesn't have an american passport
amyadoyzie: its true girl
natalie: like your grandma warned you
about those Chinese men trying to kidnap you
amyadoyzie: fo shizzle
Before leaving Portland, I made a short list of Goals of Chance, things that I wanted to happen base solely on happenstance. Four of five happened, not bad.
In my last few months in China, I came up with another list of to-dos. So far it consists of two things:
1. Make a cheesy Chinese wedding album.
In an average Chinese person's life, there are a handful of milestones that everyone strives for: pass the Gao Kao (the college entrance exam), go to university, get married, have a baby, rinse, repeat. Folk's will go all out and spend a month's salary on garish wedding pictures, set in exotic locales provided by pull-down backdrops and a half-dozen costume changes. It's total ham and it was something I needed to do before leaving China. I asked Daniel to be my faux-groom and last weekend we haggled for a cheap package deal that fit into our volunteer budgets and got our fake China wedding pictures on.
We had three costume changes and I got to sport a sparly turqouise, strapless prom dress ditty; a traditional Chinese cheong-sam dress; and a big, strapless, poofy white wedding gown stuffed with two shoulder pads in each boob. This was probably the only time in my life where I'll wear a wedding gown.
The ladies at the studio dressed me, and I made a personal rule to not refuse anything that they draped, stuck or mooshed onto my face. I wanted to be Chinese, for real. As a result, I was heavily made up with long plastic eyelashes flappin' away. They also sprouted some curly hair onto my head and wrapped a large gaudy fake diamond necklace around my collar bone. I was a sight for sore eyes.
Daniel and I mimed booty hip-hop videos, he crawled under my skirt and he didn't wear pants during the last set of pics.
I can't wait to show these to my mama.
2. Make out with a Mao.
I have a crush on a boy named Mao Wen Hao, which means that somewhere in the long history of his lineage. he's related to Chairman Mao. That makes him make-outable. He's also this tall, lanky, nerd kid who drums for Ten Bottles Heart, my favorite Chinese band. Kid doesn't speak a lick of English, but damned if I don't go home without hittin' some Mao action!
I'll keep ya'lls updated on that one.
Filed under: Crushes, Fotorama, Huarong Home, Operation Engrish Prease, Vids
Working and living in a small developing rural town in China has afforded me lots of free time to watch excellent television programming and cultivate a huge crush on the 6'7″ goggle-eyed freak that is Stephen Merchant. He's half of the genius behind The Office and Extras, the latter of which I have watched about a dozen times in the last week.
My schoolgirl infatuation with him grows evermore when he says that Mandarin Chinese sounds like goobly gook and he's only seen Chinese people in kung-fu movies and in Chinatown (not really a town, more of a novelty street).
And this quote from imdb.com makes me wanna whip together a batch of fresh spring rolls and we could have a stay-in date and watch episodes of I Love Lucy and Small Wonder.
I wouldn't mind being a divine dictator and having a stab at running China. You know the concept that if everyone in China jumps up and down at the same time it'd start a tidal wave that'd destroy America? I'd phone the U.S. President and say 'We're all on the great wall of China and we're going to jump off unless you send us the girls from “The O.C.”
He doesn't need those skinny bitches from The O.C.. He's got me, from the suburbs of Los Angeles! I don't pine after celebrities, but SM brings back all those fluttery feelings that I used to have for Erik Estrada (from CHiPs) when I was 5-years-old. All's I wanna do is to go on a date with him, at a pub, maybe on trivia night and swoon.
To watch this man dance, is to watch a dream in motion. I mean, if the dream were about a hella tall, lanky white English dude swervin' about, yeah, it is a dream in motion.
It's been a long time.
Like a stretch of barren desert, baked dry by heat so intense it leaves goosebumps on your skin and nothing can survive there.
It's me sex life. Or lack thereof.
So, that's why, if for some reason you've flown all the way to China, knew exactly which buses to catch, found building 16 on the Huarong Yizhong campus and climbed into my third-story window to spy on me and caught me perusing the Portland Mercury Personals ads, please refrain from judging me. I'm merely checking my prospects for my return to that beautiful city.
It's been a long time.
In all my few years of retail experience, I have never had the capability of e-stalking a customer as I do now. I am only slightly embarrassed by this act because I'm sure I'm not alone.
There's this dude that comes into the record store on a regular basis and has cute eyeglass frames. Yesterday, he bought a Sonic Youth CD that I had been listening to the day before and it was like a Eureka moment! I didn't think of doing what I did until he handed me his debit card and I made sure to note his name. Then I MySpaced his ass!
Yee-haw! I heart the internet!
It turned out that Brandon is “In a Relationship,” a student at PSU and a bit of a feminist. Sounds awesome, too bad he's taken.
Gus said that maybe I'm not the only stalker and that perhaps he's like majorly stalking me too! Maybe he doesn't even have a girl/boyfriend and he only says that he's “In a Relationship” because he's so deep in his stalkerdom that he thinks we're going out and that he has a mini-Amy shrine! HA! I should be so lucky as to have a stalker as adorable as this dude!
It's way possible.
After watching Incident at Loch Ness tonight, I have to make a couple confessions.
#1 I'm totally crushin' on Werner Herzog. This film, in combination with a recent New Yorker story on that crazy motherfucker has really got my googly girl eyes going! He's sooo nuts! And who doesn't love a lunatic?! [And an aside, if any of ya'll wanna get me an international subscription to The New Yorker while I'm in China, that would hella rule. I didn't used to like that magazine because I was under the not-so-misguided semi-mis-conception that it was just some high-falutin' highbrow stuff that I wouldn't understand- but I've been reading Gus's subscription and it made me realize that I really like their informative stories that keep be abreast on things I probably don't need to know about, like the latest in fake sugars and whether the Donner party really ate folks for fun, and they're the perfect length for my short attention span! But I do wonder if China would allow such material to touch their precious soil.]
So, back to the film… there's a character who is a crypto-zoologist, one Dr. Michael Karnow, a wacko “scientist” who explains that he doesn't wash his clothes because it degrades the fiber and thus destroys them. Instead he just hangs them on a line to air out. Like dry cleaning without any cleaning whatsoever. This notion seems ridiculous to everyone because soiled clothes don't clean themselves with wind blowing through it, duh! Anyway, it's a funny bit and Gus said that I reminded him of Dr. Karnow.
“Why?!” I asked puzzled.
“Because he doesn't wash his clothes and you don't use soap.”
“He doesn't wash his clothes because he's a nutjob! I don't use soap because my skin's too sensitive! That's different!”
“Not really,” he said.
There you have it, confession #2 I don't use soap. Most of my friends already know that, but I realized that the internet had not yet been privy to this information. But it's true, I don't use soap, not on my body, not on my face and only on my hands if need be. I really don't understand why everyone thinks I'm like some dirty dish rag because as far as I'm concerned I don't need to use soap. I don't have body odor or a dark sheen on my skin from years of scum accumulation, so what's the big deal? It also probably helps that I don't have a significant amount of body hair to trap all that yucky shit that the soap is supposed to battle. Actually, I feel sorry for all ya'll who are prisoners of suds and soap, just a buncha suckers who are victim to the monstrous hygiene industry.
P.S. Something may be happening soon, and I ain't want to jinx it, so I ain't gonna mention it till it does. But I just had to mention it because I'm a twerp.