The Ambassador’s blog has been upgraded (back-end)…if you are experiencing any quirks or problems please let us know.

Taking into account the time difference, by the time this gets posted and reaches the Ambassador’s eyes it will be Dec. 14th in Chengdu. And that means Birthday time for the Ambassador. And so on behalf of all of us here on staff, we wish our boss Jesse Ambassador Sestito a happy birfday!

A friend sent me this link - http://www.criticsrant.com/bb/reading_level.aspx
Enter your blogs address and it tells you the reading level. Mine was “elementary”. Not surprisingly, the sender’s was “genius”.

I never understood the impression by some that Americans are lazy. Do they think we became the ass-kickers we are just by shirking? The numbers don’t lie.

While studying yesterday, I asked FY what the difference is between 太太 (tai tai) and 小姐 (xiao jie), both titles for women. He explained, “太太 is for your first wife and 小姐 your second”. Touche.

Bush is classic. Even minus boy genius, he’s a naturally gifted comedian. Check ‘em out.

From a political perspective, the Bush-Sarkozy friendship might not do either man much good. Sarkozy has been taking hits at home for being too pro-American, and it wasn’t that long ago that House Republicans stripped the French out of fries, replacing it with freedom.Bush was careful not to portray himself as too much of a Francophile.

“No I can’t,” the president said, asked by a journalist if he could say something in French. “I can barely speak English.”

Courtesy: IHT

If you want a timely and deep perspective on “modern” China but can’t be here yourself, then your best alternative is not my blog. Yeah, my style is great, but I’m intentionally short on details because I’ve gotta save something for the auto-biography. You can skip those biz magz you started receiving because of the MBA student discount. And be certain to ignore the Banker expat at your local pub drowning himself in “bai wei” and you in talk of his latest “merger & acquisition” {wink}. Your source, without a doubt, should be pieces written by Howard W. French. As much as we love to hate the Times and those who read it (read: self hater), we cannot keep from applauding French, who combines the knowledge of a local (I’m thinking double agent…or local Playboy…either will do) with analogies that’d make my HS English teacher blush.

I sometimes think he’s stolen a pair of my sneakers (AF1s, of course), is living my experience (including those iffy KTV sessions) in parallel, and documenting it as I can only wish my brain had the capability to do. He’s not perfect, but just think, if we didn’t have French, we might be stuck with Flat Friedman. Yuck!! Check these dimes…and feel ‘oooh, I guess all the French ain’t so bad after all’.

“…analyzing questions in national terms rather than rational ones.”

“Life in China today often seems purely situational, not governed by rights and wrongs so much as by what one can get away with.”

click me I’m French
click me I’m French in China

And since we’re here, Tom Plate (Japan Times) recently gave us these on China:

“Should you choose the path of unthinking flattery, you will eventually lose self-respect.”
“…vacuum of values.”

I prefer simply, The moral vacuum.

Diplomacy is all about controlling the language. Check out the latest from the ‘I’m rubber you’re glue’ party.

“China, too, detects many substandard food products from the U.S.”

Howard French is putting in some serious work - debunking myths and breaking down the geo-political repercussions of happy endings. So judicious, it’s a wonder he’s not from Ohio. You can pick them out by yourself.

http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/07/12/asia/letter.php

1. Guns don’t kill people. Chuck Norris kills People.
2. There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of animals Chuck Norris allows to live.
3. Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
4. The chief export of Chuck Norris is Pain.
5. There is no chin under Chuck Norris’ Beard. There is only another fist.
6. Chuck Norris has two speeds. Walk, and Kill.
7. The leading causes of death in the United States are: 1. Heart Disease 2. Chuck Norris 3. Cancer
8. Chuck Norris drives an ice cream truck covered in human skulls.
9. Chuck Norris is my Homeboy.
10. Chuck Norris doesn’t go hunting…. CHUCK NORRIS GOES KILLING

courtesy: www.chucknorrisfacts.com

Ever since I read an article about a medical study that linked Alzheimer’s to deodorant use, I’ve traded in the risk-free 10 strokes on each pit and started hedging my bets. When I wake up, I consider the following factors and adjust (accordingly):

the weather (more for hot, less for cold), where I am going (more for the club, less for sitting in an office), what I am wearing (more for less, because funk escapes through short sleeves), who I am meeting (more for girls, less for guys and/or people I already know), and how I am traveling (less for A/C car, more for public transportation).

My funk fund is outperforming all the major indices, but sometimes I have a bad day. Like today. I never expected the 30 minute bus ride with XW and WF in the middle of rush hour to go eat some 串串. The bus was packed!!! I didn’t want to reach over that girls head, but I needed to grab onto the bar. My t-shirt sleeves kinda rolled up onto my shoulders, exposing my 沸きが “wakiga”. She had her hair in a bun, so it was totally rubbing against my sweaty pits!!! I really did feel for her.

Preface: Something stupid is always coming out of the mouth of someone, foreigner and local (I give you a sample in the travel essay below. More will follow when I’m inspired, but this time I want to focus on those frisky foreigners) alike. I give less room for stupidity to expats because they have the luxury of having access to more sources of information, not only through the media, but more importantly, through their own experience. Comments from both sides typically highlight some alleged (and irreconcilable) “difference” between “us” and “them”. I must spend half of my time dispelling cultural myths about “westerners”, Americans, Chinese, and even Japanese. I spend the other half of my time perpetuating them. I embellish a little here, but it’s only because you want me to. Enjoy.

If you wrote a book about your life, would anyone read it? I heard someone say this when I was in high school. Ever since, I periodically ask myself this question. And if we’re talking about my time in China, the answer would be an emphatic 当然！

In just a short time, I already have enough to write a book on my experience living and traveling in China. And I’m confident people (outside my immediately family) would read it. In Chengdu, a city which despite a booming 10 million people, is known for it’s calm and cool demeanor, even when my experience is not fast, it remains furious, and intense.

The title? Shades of gray? Absolute relativism? Beautiful Country?

No matter the title, I would try my hardest to leave out the superficial (though damn funny) observations that expats typically spew. I’d also try to avoid those faux stories that travel writers always include in their pieces. You know the MO - old, new, change, tradition, culture, struggle (read: exaggeration, over indulgence, did they really visit or just read a novel?) First, some of that sort (completely off the cuff), then some expat conversations overheard while sipping greenteanis on The Bund (no joke). Finally, after a lot of reading, some solid observations that are both telling and funny, and best of all, from the locals.

I arrived in People’s Park around 1PM , just as most people we’re finishing their modest portion of rice, fried vegetables, and meat. Some had already began their post meal stroll, while other skipped it altogether for a siesta. A while later, groups of old men in “Mao jackets” reconvened to play mahjong and sip leafed tea out of clear glass cylinders, while women danced to the er hu (think Chinese guitar), eyes to the sky watching kites flown by grandsons and grandpas, symbolism of the newfound opportunity that the next generation has at its disposable. In the background, simultaneous de/construction, yin and yang, a dichotomy, dialectical materialism that Marx could never have envisioned. Calls on mobile phones, checking on Shanghai stock exchange accounts - up and down and as unpredictable as the jumping bubbles of hong tang at a hot pot restaurant. Just outside the park, construction cranes moved like dragons overhead, while young buys and girls affectionately held hands, window shopping at the Cartier store which lays in the shadow of Chairman Mao’s outstretched hand (is he waving for a taxi or reducing the order of countryside time to 5 years?).

Li Feng and “Angel”, a couple, both college graduates now working for MNCs - representatives of the emerging middle class - flip through Chinese versions of Vogue and Cosmo in between sips of their lattes at a Starbuck’s around the corner. All this after a trip to the temple to offer prayers to their ancestors. Later in the day they’ll make a trip to their “laojia” or grandparent’s home, where they’ll be all filial piety because “…we’re Chinese. Unlike westerners, we love our parents and know it is our duty to take care of them. We’re just so different from them. So we bring them fruit and stuff. I mean, a lot of things are changing right now in China and we just don’t like all that Western influence. Right, baby? We’re never gonna change.” On Chinese history, we got the following; “Huh, 6-4, what’s that? You mean a 69? We tried it.”

I digress. Back to my Tyler Brule-esque writing.

Each week creates a generation gap, but the space, like the air, remains filled with the fragrant spices of fresh dumplings cooked in the woks of street vendors (editor’s note: yeah, I know, dumplings aren’t cooked in woks), while the heart’s of the people remain filled with desire for a better tomorrow.

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AND NOW A COMPILATION FROM EXPATS…
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Chinese people push and the buses don’t have air-conditioning. They need to learn some manners from US. I try to teach them by putting “qing” at the beginning of everything I say.

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Nothing is in English, how am I supposed to get around?

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I feel so stupid for ever buying a DVD in the States. Never again. Long live the Pirates of the Eastern Hemisphere!!

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Why so loud on the cell phones? I thought Cingular had bad service. Their connections must be worse.

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Loud, noisy. Bones everywhere. Homeless (animals) begging for food. Spitting. It’s great, let me take you their on a date.

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Do you speak English? I want dumplings.What’s the Chinese for that?…da pu ling. Do you speak English?

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They’re staring at me, I guess because of my blonde hair and colorful eyes. You know they love foreigners.

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I said “she she” and bowed, but he didn’t respond in kind. You know they hate foreigners.

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I got lots of guanxi because I ganbei’d these guys last night.

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The bathrooms…

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I’m so multi-cultural/cosmopolitan/international because I write a blog in English and pinyin and Chinese characters/hanzi/汉字.

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The traffic is crazy. The bikes are everywhere. The cabbies drive crazy. But at least they know where their going, unlike those f`*%s in NYC who can’t get anywhere, even with a GPS on their dashboard, which, by the way, is more an ashtray than anything else (credit: FY).

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Dude the girls love me, but I think it’s because of my passport and because my English is totally fluent.

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I was surprised so many people have dogs for pets. I guess it means everyone doesn’t eat dog?

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The babies pee and poo in the street. I’m totally jealous because when I did that my Mom was super pissed. I guess it’s the one child policy thing. They don’t wanna be too harsh.

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I’m totally adapting. I ate chao fan three times yesterday and I even squat on western style toilers at the upscale restaurants. I bask in the glory of leaving sole prints from my Prada sneakers on those white porcelain TOTO rims. Did I mention that I ask for extra MSG?

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I only spent $1 yesterday and I feel good. The UN needs to revise that whole poverty measurement of living on less than $1 a day means your poor thing.

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Yeah, Beijing, NYC, Tokyo, London, Shanghai, the same.

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I was pissed. Why is it a surprise that I can use chopsticks? If I told a Chinese in the States that I am surprised he/she could use a knife and fork, I’d be on the bad end of a lawsuit or PR campaign from one of THOSE organizations.

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My doorman said that most foreigners don’t even say “zao shang hao” to him in the morning. He’s really great. I teach him a new English word everyday.

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Local places? Sure, I can suggest a few. Bob’s Burgers. O’donnell’s Pub for happy hour. Tuesday nights are the air guitar competitions. I was knocked out in the first round, but I was cheated by Jim from Intel, so I’m boycotting the rest of the tourney.

For a date? Impress the chicks and super size at Mickey D’s or get the meat lovers at Pizza Hut. Show your international flavor with a trip to RenminRupee. Those guys serve some killer curry and they play Bollywood movies on the big screen (point out Aishwarya Rai or Amir Khan and she’ll be impressed. Bust out your Punjabi dance and she might leave your ass). And show that your down with her culture, too - go to Dico’s.

Saturday morning? Brunch, definitely at Sara Beth’s Kitchen. Huh? No, not the same as the one on the UWS. You know, this is China, it’s a boot leg version. The girl who runs it used to go to NYU. French toast is friggin delightful.

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Two expats, one from Australia (Tom), one from Ireland (Liam), meet (through their Chinese girlfriends) in Shanghai. Here’s their conversationT: 你好。
L: 你好。{exchanging handshakes, smiles}
T: 高兴。（happy to meet you)
L: 高兴。 (happy to meet you)
L: 你叫什么？ (what’s your name?)
T: 我叫Tom. 你呢？ (I’m Tom and you?)
L: 我是李风。(I’m Li Feng) <–kinda like Liam???
T: 真的吗？你有中国的名字？(Really? You have a Chinese name)
L: 对对。(Yeah, that’s right)
T: 好的。(Nice)
T: So, Lily tells me that you’ve lived here for 2 years now. You must really like it?
L: 三年。 我真喜欢。我爱中国人。 (3 Years. I really like it. I love Chinese people)
T: Are you only going to speak in Chinese?
L: 当然。我们在中国对把？ (Of course. We are in China, right?)
T: Yeah, we are in China, but I thought since English is our native language, then maybe we could…
L: 不对 (You thought wrong)
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Tea and Johnnie Walker? Wine and Pepsi? Dude, that was culture shock right there.

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Yeah, I mean, I thought Chinese people and Japanese people were the same or like, you know…you don’t?… You know, because of the whole writing thing…the characters. But I guess it makes since, I mean Americans aren’t Mexicans after all, and we both use letters. And like British people, too. They wear skinny shoes.

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Yeah, so “Asian” people aren’t all the same. That’s a little different than what they told us growing up, but it kinda makes sense. You know “North Americans” aren’t the same either. I mean, I’m not Mexican, you know? And those Canadians, well…besides the health care thing and Tom Green, they can’t really compare…

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What do they mean “the West” or “Westerners”? Don’t compare me to those Americans. English people have history and culture and sophistication, and we speak real English. We can say “booty” without blushing. Americans? Just Bill Clinton. I mean, we were colonizing folks before Chris Columbus was a sparkle in his Daddy’s eye. And London is taking over NYC as the financial center of the world. Anyway, we colonized Hong Kong now look at them.
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FINALLY, SOME GENUINE GEMS FROM LOCALS

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“China: Survival of the meanest”.

“China: where hookers and Doctors drive the same car”.

{Over large sums of food and alcohol served by under 18s from the countryside}”Welcome to the third world.”

“Q:What’s your definition of middle class? A: Something like a group of people who are not merely struggling for survival, but have the opportunity that will allow them (or their children) to move into another social class…all this on their own free will.

Right, so there is no middle class in China. Their is an upper class and a lower class.”

The Moleskine has not been replaced by the mobile. Some bits from the pages of my black book.

TV in Japan is definitely the best. A couple of examples:

1. Professor derives a formula that proves you can find the most beautiful woman in any given country by finding one beautiful one and then asking her to introduce you to someone more beautiful than herself. Do this 14 times and you’ll have her. These two woman, sisters (and hideous looking), tried it out in India. First woman was super hot…the quality was really declining, picking up only a little on numbers 10-12. Finally, 14 was hot, but still second to the first, in my opinion. Only on TV in Japan. Also, these sisters go to “the best Indian restaurant in the world”. The guy makes this super huge piece of naan (no, not dosa, I know the difference). He tried to hand feed one of them and she totally gets the “kowai” face. Classic.

2. Wasabi is a root, basically. It gets turned into that green paste by being ground against a rough surface, traditionally shark’s skin. Yeah, you guessed it - a show’s host chartered a boat, a fishing crew, and caught a shark, pulled it halfway on board, straddled it, rubbed wasabi on it until it turned to paste, let the shark go, and then ate sushi (with the wasabi). Classic.

3. Classic beauty playing a school teacher. 3 young guys from uber-famous j-pop group SMAP playing students. Electronically monitor her heart rate while each student takes a turn trying to seduce her, in line with the teacher-student role play theme. Highest heart rate wins!!!

And everything has an えろい element to it, which you gotta love. Sooooo addictive!!!

The bento boxes that mothers make for their kids are fantastic. Super creative. Makes me really wonder… a brown paper bag, half-rotten apple, PB&(no J) sandwich, and 25 cents for a chocolate milk…is that what you call love, Ma?????AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Wondering: Can the appearance of a person, food, building, etc. nourish us?

On time: Everyday, 430 AM delivering the papers…hear the motor scooter vrooming up. stop, kickstand, opens mail slot. squeak. needs oil. speeds off. all less than 7 seconds.

Are the women too perfect? A local said it: like vegetables growing indoors.

Living in NYC is like lying in bed with the woman you love - you don’t wanna get out. You think it is the best there is to offer…and your right, but…

Tokyoooooooooooooooo: the love that was lost or that never was in the first place?

Kinda sorta.

I know you’ve heard it all before, but in Tokyo, the mobile phone けいたい電話 (”keitai denwa”) is your everything. Email, texting, IMing - all with cute emoji (emoticons) that express more than words/characters ever could, frantic business research on the net (paid ¥5000/month for unlimited access but used ¥700000 worth - that’s getting your monies worth), train schedules, coupons, pictures, games, watch, alarm clock, voice recorder, calculator, music player, and sometimes your (read: my) only companion.

With no regular access to a proper PC and Net connection and always trying to stay outside of the house to see as much of the city as possible, my keitai became something else: a temporary replacement to my Moleskine, which usually acts as storage for all my random (and not so random) musings. The Notepad function became invaluable to me, housing a lot of ideas and observations from my time in the City of Benevolence. Once I returned to China, I powered-off and threw the phone in my drawer. After losing the key, finding the key, and finally opening that drawer today, I turned my phone on and was reminded of some classic Tokyo moments. And here, in no particular order, I give them to you.

The fifth (forgotten) of the “5 things that make us thirsty post”: Taking a bath/soaking in onsen

From Narita to Sangubashi station: My schema is all fcuked up! Hot J girls. Umbrellas. Asahi. Guys with make-up and cool hair. Suits!!!! Vending machine as a psychological tool. More hot J girls…sleeping on the train as a birth right.

Walking from Sangubashi station to the flat: People/Places with whom/where you experience a great deal of pain become those which you are most attached to.

Shinjuku (Kabuki-cho) observation/advice: If you need to have a drink immediately before or after doing it…don’t do it

Lifestyle versus Lifesubstance

Something like: if you want to see the real power of Japanese women, you must watch them during one of two national sales that falls just after New Years.

In Japan, people won’t always speak the truth, but they’ll always tell it.

Quote of the year: “Long time no see(seduction)”

Take a number: Yeah, we are ALL WAITING here TOGETHER about to do the same thing. So don’t be shy, just enjoy this feeling. Yeah, it’s my first time, too. No, really, it is.

Pleasantly disappointed with Chinese food in the US. I haven’t experienced a single taste here (China) that I did at home…and I’m not the least bit upset.
The people you should be weary of:

1. Girls who pluck their eyebrows and pencil in (note: girls who thread and/or wax are okay)

2. People you’ve never seen angry. People you always see angry.

3. People who charge a lot for either Indian food or Chinese food. And even more so, those who charge for rice. Rice should be something of a human right when it comes to dining. I got got charged 10 bucks for rice at an Indian joint in Midtown. The worst is when people are like, “would you like rice with that?”. I’m like, “Is this an Indian/Chinese restaurant?”. I digress.

4. People who don’t write (borrowed form IL)

5. People who walk far in front of those they are with. Remember: to lead, walk behind.

6. People who don’t use lamp shades

7. People with loud cell phone rings

Old women can be quite rude, always pushing on the train.

The East begins/ends with Japan. The West with USA

A foreigner asked me for the new south Shinjuku exit. He looked rushed and worried. TI pointed him in the right direction. He ran. It was raining. We were heading the same way. Saw him. He was meeting a girl. Reminded me of my own advice: first thing you do when arriving in a new country? Map? No. Exchange money? No. Get a girlfriend? Yes. The caveat: don’t fall for the first one you meet.

Advice for foreigners: “You might be offended. Remember, this is from another country. It’s like social studies”.
“Mindlessly Busy” courtesy of VL

“Who Dares, Wins” courtesy Brits

ML into a lovely smile that’s blooming. And it’s so clear to me that here’s a dream come true.

Fame Is (put this on a t-shirt)

The water guy is waiting in the office right now with two big jugs of water. I’m debating whether or not it would be too weird to offer him a cup of water.

Wait, now another water guy just walked in with two big jugs of his own. He just changed the water and took the empties. The other guy, looking a little perplexed, has started talking with him…this is real time people…

The second guy left…first guy is using the phone…”wei…{cannot understand)…guodong…{cannot understand}…hao…hao…{cannot understand}”…the other line is ringing…he has to hold………..he’s still holding, the OL is on the line…this guy is ripped from carrying water…he’s staring at the fish tank…”zai jian”…she’s off the phone…he got a receipt and left….so anti-climatic….wait wait…the OL is running after him…{15 seconds elapses}…she’s back…yes, anti-climatic…

This is the high point of my, your day…

In other news, I accidentally approved a bunch of spam comments, so don’t be surprised if you see Viagra ads in the comments sections. I don’t really approve of them.

People are always (okay, twice) asking me which is more difficult - Mandarin Chinese or Japanese. I answer truthfully - I’m not yet sure because I haven’t studied enough of the former, but I think some parts of each can be easier than the other. For example, Japanese speaking/listening is definitely easier (i.e. no tones). You can learn a new word and use it the same day. Whereas in Chinese, I have trouble asking for the “ce suo” (toilet). But grammar, Chinese is definitely easier - not only is it similar to that of English (i.e. subject-verb-object. Japanese is SOV), but it is super flexible. Japanese verbs make my head explode with all the conjugations, the formal versus casual, etc. Written, Mandarin uses the simplified characters, while Japan uses the traditional set. But Japan does have hiragana and katakana, which can be learned quickly (took me two days to read and write) substituted if you don’t know the Kanji. But, when the three sets are mixed on the TV screen or in an email, it feels more difficult than the Chinese all-characters approach (yeah, there is pinyin, but it’s not used for communication, only teaching). So recently I have been leaning toward Japanese as the more difficult to learn. When I say learn I mean reading, writing, speaking, and listening.

So, I was on some US government website yesterday and it groups languages into categories by those which are closest to English and easiest to learn. Spanish, Italian, the usual suspects were in category 1. The final category - those most difficult for native English speakers to learn contained Arabic, Cantonese, Mandarin, and *Japanese. Yeah, what is that * doing there? I checked the footnote, which explained that languages marked with an asterisk are considered more difficult than those in the same category. Respect to all those 外人 “gaijin” getting their ペラペラ “pera pera” on. And to the Japanese with fluent English.

Back to Chinese. HJ and I went to play snooker (that’s pool/billiards for those of you who didn’t know…I didn’t). As we finished our game, I feel myself having to use the bathroom. I opt against using the bathroom there for three reasons: 1. I don’t want HJ to wait on me 2. I don’t want to rush 3. I think I can wait until I get home - a 20 minute walk
But as we walked out, I started to think, maybe I can’t hold it. HJ was gonna catch a cab, so I asked if I could join and be dropped off at the office, just two blocks away. We arrived, I said goodbye and jump out. But it’s late - maybe midnight, so no one was in our office and I didn’t have a key. No matter, I doubted I could make it up to the 17th floor anyway. The general use bathroom would suffice. I walked into the lobby and the security guys came out of their room. I asked, “ce suo zai nar?” - “where is the toilet?”. But these guys were just like, “shen me?” “what?”. I just kept saying “ce suo”. And they kept saying “what” and looking confused. I did what I usually do when I can’t be understood - go through every tone Chinese has. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 . Damn!!! Nothing. Finally, literally after like 10 “ce suo”, the one guy says, “WC?” (Water Closet). And I responded in Japanese: “hai hai hai so so so”…

Sometimes I really want to stop blogging. I just don’t see the point.

It’s super vein. It’s slightly time consuming. And it’s killing my chances to win the Iowa primary in 2032.

Other times, however, I really see the benefits. Id est, a tool for creation, self expression, communication, and also a way to take a trip down memory lane.

I received an email Monday morning from an old, dear friend named Dylan. Let me tell you about “D-Nasti”, as I dubbed him after we met. Dylan was the first friend I made after I entered University. Somehow, I guess it was a gift from God, I managed to secure a spot in Scott House, the dormitory for students majoring in anything agricultural (”ag”). That meant a couple of things - up before the sun, check. Carhart overalls, check. Tons of cheap beer, check. A dude that got too close to a sheep, check. Tracking mud/manure combos into the hallway, check. Confederate flags, check. Overt use of the N-word (the one that ends in “-er”, not “a”….is there a difference?), check. Guys who called MLK day “James Earl Ray Day”, check. Writing racist and homophobic slurs on the white board in the hallway, check. Hall directors who would take no action against the overtly racist and homophobic behavior, check. Hall directors that did take action when I left a profanity-laced voice message…check. I could go on, but you get the point. This place was crazy. Why these guys weren’t feeling my recitation of Nas lyrics and greeting everyone with “What’s up, Dawg?” was beyond me.

Despite all the madness, this experience was one I wouldn’t trade for anything. Namely because of the few friends that came out of it. Dylan was the first of those friends. Well, technically speaking, Nick - my roommate - was first, but Dylan was the first friend that I MADE. I was in room 220. Dylan stayed in the on the opposite side of the hall, the first/last room in the hall, just across from our RA, Chris, who Nick nicknamed “Chief”.

I can remember the first night we met like it was yesterday. I had promised myself not to party during the first quarter of University (I wanted to focus on my studies), so I was at home on that Friday night. I went to the lobby to get a drink from the vending machine, I think a cup of hot chocolate (it might have been November by this time, so the temperature was cool). There was a guy, maybe slightly inebriated, in the lobby. As I make my selection, I felt his presence behind me, but hadn’t planned to acknowledge it until he spoke to me - “What’s up dawg?”. Man, I thought, is this dude mocking me? I’m not in the mood for any more confrontations. I gave a “Hey, how are you?” to be polite. Dylan responds with some pleasantries and small talk, and somehow we end up talking about how to hack computers. Well, I didn’t know shit. I had hard enough time checking email. But Dylan seems to be an expert. Next thing I know, we’re in his room hacking porn sites. Anyway, that was the beginning…
Dylan was like a big brother to me the rest of the year and throughout our time at OSU. Not only was that my first (and last) time hacking, but it was also my first (and almost my last) time on a porn site. I also watched my first DVD (American Pie) in his room. Burned my first CD on his computer (which I was always using to check my email). Drank my first full beer (a Corona) in Dylan’s room. The next year, I had my first DJ gig at Dylan’s house. Dylan even gave me a place to stay when I was homeless for 2 week period between leases. We lived together for a summer and ate tons of mac and cheese…and oatmeal…You get the point…a great friend
Oh, wait, how could I forget - my first strip club…Dylan. I went in that joint…super scared. I forget the name, but it was just on the side of the highway. Corn fields and neon lights. It was BYOB which, in the midwest at least = all nude. Oh man, I didn’t know this type of stuff goes on in Ohio. We walked in there…sat down. A stripper sat next to me. Dylan tells her it’s my first time in a joint. She’s wearing a shiny silver two piece (I can’t forget that), turns to me and says: “So this is your first time, huh?” I nod, trying to keep eye contact. Then she says: “Then you’ve never seen t**s this big?” and totally flashes me. I’m glad it was dark in there, because my face must have been super red. Well, I’m not at all shy about a woman’s body, but such directness was a first for me. Usually I have to say something. This time I just paid the $10 cover.

Anyway, Dylan is the type of friend who just wants you to enjoy yourself. He’ll go out of his way to make you comfortable. I knew this, so I told him: “Dylan, don’t buy me any lap dances”. I said it sternly and he agreed. Later, the DJ announces a 2 for 1. 2 songs for the price of one. Dylan tells me he is gonna get a couch dance in the back room. Cool. One song passes and someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn around. It’s Dylan. What’s up? “Your turn, bro.” “What?” You guessed it, he was giving me the second song. A great friend. So I went back there, on the couch, next to some other guys, and the stripper just….just…stripping…and stuff….I was frozen…I was too nervous to be turned on. I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I think I ended up sitting on them.

Anyway, the feature for that night was crazy - the show put that stuff in Thailand to shame…
Anyway, I have a lot more to write about Dylan, Nick, and the dorm life, but I’ll take a きゅけい “kyukei” for now

I’m hemorrhaging. I need to write something so I can get those horrid pictures of myself off the first page. Ergo, a quick “check please” anecdote from two nights ago.

Me: Maidan
Waitress: I’m sorry…
Me: Shouqian (the less formal alternative)
Waitress: {blank stare, confused look}
Me: (thinking I should drop the ‘h’ and speak in local dialect) souqian
Waitress: I’m sorry, my English is not very good

I was rockin’ the curls, but the thickness became too much for me, so I snapped, and shaved my head. Check out the process. In fairness, the first two shots are taken with a flash, so I look a little…you know. In truth, the third looked pretty good and I thought about keeping it, but opted out. I gave you some cleavage on the fourth shot…don’t get too excited.

Top 5 things that make you thirsty:

Eating ice cream

Smoking

Sex

Shopping

I forget the fifth one…will update later