OMG, I am a freaking moron! As you know, I hosted Game Night II at my place last weekend. Well part of the party preparations included cleaning off my grill. As a practically permanent fixture on my patio, the grill was all nasty with dust and grime. So before the party, I gave it a good scrubbing… in my shower (my patio has a drain but no faucet– go figure!). At the time, I thought this was a brilliant idea, since my shower head is one of those handheld apparatuses. There I stood, in the shower, scrubbing to my heart’s content. La dee da, sloughing off clobs of black crap and watching it float into the drain.

Duh! Like a total retard with no common sense (much less an engineering degree), I didn’t even register the possibility of a clog. Well, congratulations. I win the idiot prize. The very next day, I hop in the shower and within two minutes, I’m standing in an inch of gray, oily water. What was I thinking? I ignored the problem for a few days: maybe the stoppage would somehow unclog itself. After I could no longer take pruny, greasy feet, I decided to cram my thick cable bike lock down the drain. Since the piping beneath the bathroom sink shoots straight down (no air trap), I assumed the shower pipe would have the same design. Wrong, there was a frickin’ elbow ten inches down. I kept jamming my cable lock in and out of the pipe. No luck. Next, I tried my wire/cable clothing line. Too flexible. Third up? Acid. I poured straight vinegar down the drain. I know, I could have just gone searching for Drano, but frankly, I didn’t know whether the supermarket would even have that stuff. Plus, vinegar was within reach. Well, that didn’t work either. After suffering from a few more days of shrively feet, I called the maintenance dude today. He ran the water, put my toilet sucker over the drain, gave it a few hard pumps, and bam. Just. Like. That. Unclogged. Je-sus, I am a total dumbass. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? WHY?

In other news, Joon celebrated his 25th birthday yesterday. A group of twelve chowed down at Oriental, an MTV (Myramar, Thai, Vietnamese) place. Pretty tasty. Afterwards, a handful of us went to his place where we talked about treacherous beasts (anacondas, the Loch Ness monster, aliens) and the incredible intelligence of other people (aliens, possibly?), specifically, those responsible for the Great Pyramids, Stonehenge, crop circles, etc. Yeah, so in conclusion, I’m a dumbo…

Breathe in. Breathe out. Whew, it’s been a tough week. Juggling the usual tasks, but on top of that, John and I had a couple tiffs. You know how draining those can be… We’re coming up on ten years together this August (was I really only 20 when we met?), and actually the last couple of years have been pretty much skirmish-free. Until now. I suppose his stressful new position doesn’t help. Nor do the distance and my internal issues. I’ve had some trouble sleeping. I just really want to maximize things: you know, the Mandarin learning, my remaining days here, my life in general. I want my shit pulled together and figured out. And then there’s that whole “career” issue. God, the career is so overrated but still, it’s tough seeing people’s faces when I explain I just want a challenging and enjoyable job. I don’t know if anything will develop into a “career,” but for now I’m just focused on getting a job. They give me this look like I’m a slacker or something. It’s not as if my experiences don’t follow any kind of theme…

ANYway, John and I have worked out the kinks now. I’m most definitely on the prowl, job hunting for opportunities in the Bay area. I’ve decided on a three-prong approach that hopefully will put my writing/training/web development skills to use with nonprofit women’s orgs, nonprofit environmental conservation orgs, and private-sector tech companies. The Bay area is a tech hotspot after all… might as well experience working for a dot com or something. Unexpectedly enough, the other day I was thrilled to discover that Google has a philanthropic arm, Google.org. That could be sooo good. Anyone out there a Google-ite?

I’ve been in a foul mood this week. For one, I fucked up my sleep schedule staying up til 3 a.m. one night reading a shitty book, The Lost Daughter of Happiness. Written by a native Shanghainese woman who is now living in San Francisco, the book appeared promising. I mean, come on, all the elements are there: Shanghai, San Francisco, Chinese author, trafficking in women. Plus, the book was recommended by a friend. Well, shit. I was disappointed as hell. Read half and wasn’t that thrilled. Somehow though, I was convinced it had to get better, so I continued skipping ahead. I suppose the main turnoff was shifting perspectives. The story was mostly third person, but then there were these awkward first person sections. The flow was choppy and the language a bit forced. Maybe the translator messed things up. I don’t know. Then again, I could have just grown impatient and frustrated with the weak and passive protagonist. I mean, yes, she’s a trafficked woman but STILL, I’m sure there are strong women who are trafficked and still trapped inside the system. Ugh. Anyway, thank goodness for Princess Melissa. Yes, she’s the one from Real World New Orleans, but don’t hold it against her. She actually hates being tagged with Real World, and you know what? I kicked my Real World habit YEARS ago. The point is, Melissa rocks. You have to check her out.

I reconnected with my long lost friend Anushay the other day on MSN. I have to say, she is by far my hottest friend– she’s from Bangladesh; super gorgeous with a heart of gold (she works in gender and development). Anyway, we go way back to my FMF days… She’s in London at the moment. Actually, she’s been in the UK a couple of years now and only recently, has she discovered the magic of MSN Messenger. I know, I really have to get all my friends on board. I don’t understand why anyone would fight the gravitational pull of constant internet connection. ANYway, so we did some catching up… went through all the updates. And omg, did she have a story.

So way back in 2003, she was seeing this dude kinda on and off. Really clicked, was just really into him. For geographical reasons, the relationship never truly solidified, but even three years later (now), they stayed in touch. Then, one day she randomly googled his name… the dude is frickin’ MARRIED. Was married three years ago, is married still. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I don’t even want to get started on this whole issue of infidelity but well, no stopping me now. Oddly, I’ve been bumping into the issue left and right lately. I just don’t get it. Seriously. How fucking selfish and immature and deceptive. Now, I’m not going to make some blanket statement about guys being the perpetrators; I have girlfriends who have cheated. I just shake my head. No matter how they explain it, I never understand the rationale. It’s like some bullshit, messed up reasoning, like they cheated because they wanted to test something. It’s such a load of dogshit. I mean, bottom line is that you are weak, you are impulsive, and you’re a self-serving asshole. Oh, how infidelity enrages me! So the other day, Pamela and I watched the movie Unfaithful. I’ve seen it before but still, every time, I just want to shake Diane Lane. What the hell are you doing? Am I missing something here? I mean, how hard is it if, for example, you’re pissed off at your partner. Or you’re not getting along. Or you want a break. How difficult is it to just tell the person? Isn’t that still easier than sneaking around and keeping up two separate lives? Let’s say, you’re ultra pissed at your partner. You don’t even want to talk to him/her for a few days. Fine. Send a goddamn email saying you want a break. Yes, it should be done in person or on the phone, but jesus, at the point that you’re going to cheat? Screw the Miss Manners bullshit and notify in whatever method you can manage. Or what if there’s someone at work or school you’re attracted to… fine. John’s ex once said, “Just because I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu.” Personally, when I’m on a diet, I don’t look at the menu, but… ok, if you’re attracted to someone else, fine. Admit it, but don’t deny the attraction and then proceed to act on it… Argh. I’m getting so pissy now thinking about all of this.

It’s just that… what is going through that person’s head? If someone’s not interested in being monogamous, then don’t be in a romantic partnership. It’s not rocket science. To me, it doesn’t even matter whether you’re married or not. Are you or aren’t you in an exclusive relationship? If both parties know or are down with the swingers thing, fine. But god, I hate lying players. I really really hate that attitude like you can fuck with people and get away with it and it’s ok. It’s not ok. At all. People sometimes say, “things just happen.” What the hell is that? Have you no control? It’s like you have to take a leak. Do you just piss in your pants right then and there? No! You hold it and wait until you can fucking relieve yourself at the appropriate place. And I mean, are you totally oblivious to what is happening? The growing attraction, the changing dynamics? Sorry, I’m totally on my soapbox now… and don’t misinterpret me. I’m not saying I have some storybook relationship. I’m not intending that at all. I’m just frustrated, because I see infidelity everywhere. And it’s a sad thing when people break hearts, because hearts don’t mend so easily.

I hosted Game Night II last night… the inaugural one last April was a pizza party. Yesterday’s was a BBQ. Usually, John’s the grillmaster when we BBQ, so I never actually learned what to do– how to start the fire and how to prep/cook the meat. Luckily, earlier last week Pamela schooled me on the secrets of operating a charcoal grill. Haha, even John’s a little shaky on that (he’s used to the instant gratification of a gas grill). I think I have some pyromanical tendencies, because I really get a kick out of playing with fire. Starting the grill is somewhat challenging, but at least now I’m in on the trick: use an oil-soaked cloth to seed the fire. A basketball air pump (my idea) also comes in super handy for precise, targeted fanning. We got the fire so hot early on that we had to close the vents on the bottomside of the grill. That move bit us in the ass later in the evening when Joon had to grill two steaks… but all in all, the food was all good. Peppercorn/blue cheese steaks, Hawaiian chicken, pork/radish/mushroom dumplings… Who me? A former vegetarian? Poor John, he’s missing out on me in my carnivore heyday. Once I return to the States, I do plan to jump back on the veg bandwagon. California offers so many more veg options. Plus, the logic of Peter Singer simply cannot be denied. And I can’t quite cope with the long-term guilt.

But boy did we have a spread yesterday. In addition to the meats, we had salad, french bread, fresh popcorn (Pamela showed me how to do that on the stovetop as well), apples, banana bread, and of course a host of toxic beverages. Good times, but I need to get more boardgames. We’re going through the Taboo cards awfully quickly. How to restock in China? A quick search on Taobao returned Hustler Taboo. I don’t even want to know.

Now is one of the best times of the year to be in Shanghai. The weather, when it’s good, is really good: plenty of sunshine with a nice, easy breeze. The only bad thing about warmer weather here is mosquitoes. Such loathsome creatures! Thankfully, I have erected a net-tent over the bed. I must say, the net is actually pretty kick-ass; it even has a mini plastic ceiling fan for the extra hot summer nights (hot temperatures… must I stipulate this?!).

So the first evening I pitched the tent, I went to bed feeling totally safe and secure. Then, in the middle of the night, my arm began itching. Soon after, I heard, “bzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz” around my ears. Fuck! I popped up, unzipped the tent, crawled out, turned on the light, and began the hunt. I can never rest until the mosquito is captured and killed. Sure enough, there it was on the INSIDE of my fucking security barrier. INSIDE!! Whap! Killed the sucker and in my palms, the blood she had stolen from me. Goddamnit bitch! Already, my arm was scratched raw. After that, I couldn’t fall back asleep. It was 3 am.

I swear, someone needs to make an alarm clock that buzzes like a mosquito. Screw the annoying beeping models. The insect buzz would be so much more effective than a little meep meep. Oh well. The lesson learned is that you really have to keep the net zipped at all times. Yesterday, one little corner flap was open during the day and sure enough, just as my head sank into the pillow, no more than five seconds later, I was up with all the lights on, hunting for the killer. I do love my net. I’m taking it back with me to the States in July. For sure (even though John claims San Mateo doesn’t have mosquitoes… whatever!).

Note the cute lil’ ceiling fan. And yes, I have my laptop inside the tent (like a true internet junkie).

OMG!! That woman in my class!!! She’s driving me up the wall. Yes, the cell phone lady. Today? Jesus Christ. Sleeping in class! Like not even involuntary dozing off kind of sleeping. Ah uh. No. Blatant, disrespectful, arms-crossed-on-the-desk, head-down sleeping! Can you fucking believe this shit? Seriously, where are people like her from? I mean, I was butt tired today. In the last week, Shanghai has had torrential rains and then clear skies and sunshine. Both times it rained, I miscalculated and left the house without rain gear. Long story short, I was sick last night. Watery eyes, headache, stuffy nose. I went through two boxes of tissues. And because I had that stupid quiz this morning, I was up too damn late. Point is, I was dog-ass tired. But did I sit in front of the teacher, cross my arms, and then proceed to sleep in his class? No! Why? Because if I really wanted to sleep, I would frickin’ GO HOME! What a stupid fuck. I hate her.

Btw, since I told her to take her phone conversation (during our midterm exam) outside, she has never spoken to me again. Goddamn idiot. I hope she falls off her bike and gets sloshed in a mud puddle. (I know, I could wish her a slow and painful death, but I’m not that much of a beotch). Ugh. Definitely can’t stand her though.

When John and I first arrived in Shanghai, I called up this guy whose client (an area school) was looking for English teachers. Based on my resume, he had decided I was worth an interview. When I called to schedule it, I asked for him in Chinese. Big mistake. He immediately asked if I was ethnically Chinese, because if yes, his client wasn’t interested. They wanted a “Caucasian face.” I argued that I was American-born, that my first time to China was September 2003. He asked if I was mixed. Almost instinctively, I seized that as my crowbar to pry open the door. I am “purebred” Chinese-American, but, I explained, people often ask if I’m mixed. In the past, people have asked if I was part-native American Indian or part-Latina even. The guy agreed to an interview. After I got off the phone, John shook his head and burst out in laughter, “Native-American Indian? Are you kidding?” What? It’s true, damnit. When I was younger, I’d get really dark being out in the sun. People said I looked N.A. Indian. I mean, of course now that I’m NOT tan, the comment sounds a bit ludicrous but whatever man, it’s not like I’m lying. Anyway, John’s never let me live that one down. And actually, when I met the guy for the interview, the first thing he said was, “Yeah, you look totally Chinese to me.” Well gee, sorry to disappoint. Whatever. It shouldn’t even be relevant, but you asked and I told the truth: that’s what other people have said. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. And to make matters worse, he asked if John wanted to teach. Apparently his client’s only prerequisite is white skin. No teaching experience? No problem. Nice.

Of late, I’ve been getting these ethnicity questions again. Cabbies. Salon people. Classmates. Random people in the elevator. I just want to know what it is that throws them off? Is it the Chinese face and the native English. I mean, hello? Chinese are all over the damn world… it’s not that difficult to fathom overseas-born Chinese! Or maybe it’s the Chinese face coupled with the stilted Mandarin? Like the Mandarin isn’t exactly local but it’s also not completely foreign. I don’t know. Half the time, I don’t even speak. Beats the hell out of me. All I know is people give me very confused looks. What’s puzzling them? I’m not that difficult to figure out. Really. My blog is public after all.

I met up with my LifeLine crew this evening. Tegan, the former program manager (and a kickass one at that), is headed back to Australia. At the end of two and a half years, her partner’s construction management gig is done. They’re taking off 3-6 months (depending on who you ask) to travel the Outback. Got a tricked out SUV, complete with a refrigerator that runs off power from the engine. They’re rock climbers, so they plan to camp and climb all over. She said their suitcases for the flight out on Monday are packed to the brim with climbing equipment. So. Hard. Core. I mean, yeah I guess they’re putting a twist on the whole camping experience (with the refrigerator and all), but still. Six months in a tent? Even if they cheat a few nights and sleep in the SUV, that’s still NOT a bed!

So we had a very nice sushi/sashimi buffet at Hatsuhana in Gubei. Aaah, you can’t beat the smooth tingle of hot saki. I’m typically not a fan of alcohol and up until 2003, I almost never drank. Then, I discovered Bloody Marys. Man, how I craved that peppery tomato zing. Unfortunately, John’s friend made the mistake of telling us the sodium content, and just like that I was off the bandwagon. White wine is tasty too, but really, saki does the trick. It’s so deceptively dainty with the vase-like carafe and the tiny ceramic cups: you feel like you’re drinking tea.

ANYway, back to Tegan. It’s a shame to see her go but then again, you can’t feel too sad about it– she is going to be traveling around Australia with her lovey… so romantic. Sigh! June and July are busy months: three others will head out the next few weeks and then I’m out in mid July. Begin the farewell preparations, y’all!

1. Try to get into the cab through the rear left door.
2. Incorrectly assume cabbies are middle class: ask details about Shanghai real estate (for example, apartment sizes, unit prices, average rent, interest rates, etc.)
2. Say “yi” instead of “yao” when reading the numeral 1
3. Call air conditioning “leng qi” instead of “kong tiao”

This middle-aged Taiwanese guy (who lives in the Bay area) kept talking to me on the flight back to Shanghai. I didn’t really have anything in common with him; he kept saying that he viewed China as an investment opportunity and a chance to become “powerful.” Wtf? Like I give a shit. Anyway, we ended up sharing a cab into town, and man, he reeked foreigner.