Gotta give it to Air China for making our last SFO PVG trip a memorable one. Yes, I have written many a posts bitching about the disastrous state of “customer service.” To date, I have sworn off HP laptops, Best Buy, China Eastern (through LAX), Sprint, Enjoy Shanghai… yes, the list goes on. Everywhere I turn, I am disappointed with half-ass people. Seriously, how are these people even employed? Anyway, in case you were wondering, something actually came from the Enjoy debacle: I was offered a voucher to SF Steakhouse in town (yes, how appropriate). Trouble is, it’s now been two weeks and I have yet to receive the voucher in the mail. I actually had trouble receiving mail from Enjoy in the past. Initially, it was my bad: I miswrote my address as Number 5 rather than Lane 5. But I corrected the mistake last year. Now, it’s the same problem again. Now Enjoy is like investigating something with the post office. Must everything be so goddamn difficult? Jesus fucking Christ.

So the whole thing with Air China… first, John and I are fying back to SF on separate airlines. He’ll be on United; I’ll be on Air China. And the official airline of the Beijing Olympics has me fucking going through BJ. So bloody stupid. When I purchased the ticket last October, the flight was direct. Then in April, Air China made the brilliant decision to alter the route with a stopover in BJ– only adds about 4 hours’ time to the itinerary. Fuckers. I spent days on the phone with Travelocity (they’re on my shitlist now too) AND Air China and ultimately, I got no where. Pissed me off. So I guess John and I can consider this flight back a safe strategy, like for the kids we don’t have. You know, in case one of us goes down, at least the other survives for the nonexistent kiddies. Morbid but hey, people actually think like that!

John’s experience with Air China last Saturday was hell. In BJ, the connecting flight to SH never made it, so the agents scrambled for an alternative. After utter disorder and chaos, the passengers were hurried from one end of the BJ airport to the other to board a plane headed for Hongqiao airport (rather than Pudong). Fortunately, Hongqiao is closer to our apartment, but still. The two SH airports are on the opposite sides of town! Had it not been for John’s smartphone, I would have been waiting at PVG for no reason.

In light of our recent bad experiences with the airlines, it’s a wonder I’m giving an iota of thought to some job openings with Cathy Pacific in their San Francisco base. You see, I’m kinda bummed about leaving China. My good friend Jenny, a former Cathay Pacific flight attendant, told me Cathay is aiming to open shop in SF. They are currently recruiting billingual staff for their SFO-HKK route. I’m actually a bit surprised by my interest in this opportunity. After all, am I cool and glamorous and wild and crazy (that’s how I imagine airline crews…)? Not a bit. Still, I’ll look into it. My friends are skeptical too: they can’t see me excelling at customer service, or rather, they can’t see me putting up with other people’s bullshit… Oh well, this could just be my ticket to Asia. Plus, it’s a job where I can use my Mandarin so can’t be that bad, right? More on that later.

In other news, the last few days have been exhausting. John and I braved the suffocating heat and headed out to Pudong to extend his visa on Monday. I don’t care what I told you during the winter: Shanghai summers are definitely WORSE than Shanghai winters. Just to put it in perspective, my buddy Pamela canceled shopping because of the heat. You know it’s REALLY bad then!

So yesterday, the packers finally came. Jesus. I only wasted like two weeks trying to squeeze a goddamn quote out of these people. So confusing. There’s like the main shipping company that has an agent in Shanghai and then I also deal with another dude in their SFO branch office. Oddly, they don’t communicate directly. They actually go through me… bizarro. Then, there’s this separate packing company that’s supposed to get me cleared through customs in China. That company has like three different contacts, and every time we talk money, they ask me what price I was quoted. Yeah, totally sketch. Like I’m getting a laowai quote or something. So frustrating dealing with all these hands in the pot. So we ended up shipping back a few unanticipated things– his 23-inch cinema display which didn’t sell and my guzheng (which, encased, is practically the size of a coffin!). What we had expected to be under 3 cubic meters ended up being 5! And we’re supposed to be minimalists. I was so depressed yesterday after they hauled off our 20 big-ass boxes. How did this happen? Damn books, I tell you. We don’t even have knicky-knacky shit. It was like four monster tubs of books plus clothes and bedding. Anyway, I’m disgusted with myself. It definitely isn’t going to be pretty on the other side. I just hope my oil paintings, guzheng, and cinema display arrive unscathed.

I’ve been away from the gym for about five days. Yeah, the food safari has already taken its toll… But it rained this evening so things have cooled off some. I plan to head over around 9. Gotta get in my 30 minutes of misery.

Btw, Nemesis is coming over tomorrow to check out Sandy. We’ll see what comes of that. I also sold my dresser and a radiator heater… Hurray! Checkin’ shit off the list… We’re down to the homestretch.

I went out to dinner this evening with my students at Shepherd. They are the sweetest peeps; we ate Sichuan at a nice restaurant around the corner. Food was a bit spicy, but dinner was fun all the same. Raymond always tries to drink people under the table. He tries, I guess. We had quite the feast; cow stomach, fish, shrimp, tofu, yam noodles, pumpkin rice cakes. When the bill came, I witnessed price negotiation at its best. My students were surprised to find that small river shrimp cost 78 rmb/lb. After several minutes of back and forth with the restaurant staff, we got a 20 percent discount. Geez, if only I had that kind of tenacity. Even the office director Simon gets DVDs for only 5 kuai. Guess I’m just a sucker.

After dinner, I met up with some friends at Windows downtown to watch Argentina v. Germany, supposedly one of the biggest games of the tourney. I sure as hell wouldn’t know; despite its hunks, soccer doesn’t appeal to me. So anyway, this Windows place was packed to the seams. It was so fucking hot, and damn, people really get worked up over this shit. Next to me, a young German lady– who happened to look a lot like Jodie Foster– was on the verge of tears. She was totally stressed, and her face twitched and trembled– a breakdown was imminent. The game was ok to watch; unlike American football, at least each play lasts longer than three seconds. And the game seems more straightforward; no first and second downs and all that bullshit. Still, by the end of the second half, I was ready to jet. Especially with German chick on a tightrope next to me. Her anxiety was disturbing. After the supplemental time wrapped, I left.

Poor cabbie couldn’t understand my address. I didn’t even drink (meaning, no slurred speech). I repeated it for him like four times and then I got really impatient. I mean, come on, I’ve been living here almost three years. I know how to fucking pronounce my address; don’t tell me I say it wrong. Just don’t.

Blah, blah. World Cup. Who cares. The big news is Bubbey’s coming home tonight. Yay! I guess it’s been about seven weeks. Not really that long in the grand scheme of things, but definitely long enough. I’ve had a my singledom fix and now I’m ready for buddy time. Unfortunately, he’s going to be dead tired AND jetlagged, but I’m just glad we’ll be together again.

Speaking of pet sitters/boarders, John and I got a good laugh out of this ad which appeared in a Shanghai magazine

The night before last, John emailed me: the dog boarding kennel is booked. Two days before his departure, and no one to watch the dogs. For two weeks. I started flipping out.

You see, many boarding facilities in the area have like 150-200 dog runs. In the past, the places just told us to bring the animals; they were never at capacity. Well, bite me in the ass. We forgot about the Independence Day holiday. July 4. Panicked, I stayed up til 3 a.m. that night scrambling for a sitter. We finally found one, thank goodness. R&M man, sandbags of the century. 🙂

Poor John. As usual, he was again slammed at work with meetings all that day. Plus, he was especially unnerved about having to can two people. First time as the doer, rather than the watcher. I imagine firing someone is very difficult. You think about the impact, not just on the individual but their loved ones, their family. It’s not easy. And John was tormented despite the facts. These people are so aggravating though. I understand that work blows. I’ve been there– depressed and disgruntled. But still, do your damn work. You can have a bad attitude; you can use up all your sick leave or whatever. But don’t be an asshole. Likely you’re not saving the world or anything, so please, just get your shit done. That’s what you’re paid to do. I mean, it’s that simple. If you’re not productive, why should you continue drawing a paycheck? It’s not rocket science. Wtf, man. Get with the program.

So, John’s a nice guy and he was losing sleep over having to do this. Damn fuckers. I mean, there are plenty of people who want to make a decent living. If these bastards are unhappy and unproductive, they’ve got to go. It’s no one’s fault but theirs. They’ve made the conscious decision not only to slack ass, but also to be jerks. So screw it. They were asking for it. I know, I sound harsh but Bubbey comes first. Stop making his life so complicated and difficult. He’s not a goddamn babysitter. The job isn’t supposed to be ’round the clock crisis management; it’s supposed to be project management, development, and planning. Jesus Christ.

So anyway, surprise surprise: John’s gonna have to work while he’s here. But hopefully he’ll get some rest.

Today was the last day of class. All of about four students showed. I’ve finally decided to forgo the final exam (this Monday). Yeah, I could still study for it, and technically John would still be jetlagged, but eh, why bother. I’ve learned loads and honestly, now just isn’t the time for proving myself or whatever.

So anyway, our final reading class ended up just being a chat session. Long story short, I received two very blatant clues suggesting that I’m now officially an old, pruny hag. First clue? My teacher asked how many kids I have. Uh, hello? Do I look like a goddamn mother to you? Jesus. Then my nemesis, it turns out, is tiger (same as my brother); she’s 32. When she heard that I was 30, she about fell out of her chair. “What??? I’m older than you? I thought you were 36 or 37!” Yup? Can you believe the audacity of this beotch? Me? Mid 30’s? I mean, yeah I haven’t exactly been looking my best lately, but damn, why don’t you just call me a senior citizen already! Wtf, man?

So teach started asking me what I do here in Shanghai. I explained that I freelance and also volunteer for various organizations. In the following class (listening), Nemesis actually made the effort to converse with me. I tried to give off that standoffish, snobby body language but I guess it didn’t deter her. So turns out, she knows about SCAA AND she wants to foster a dog. That got me going on Sandy, my current foster dog. My ayi said today that Sandy looks like a trampy, dirty dog (even though I washed her); clearly, Wu Ayi is not a fan. But seriously, Sandy is the easiest dog ever. I guess after living in an outdoor pen for so long, she’s totally independent. Just sleeps and drinks. Hardly even eats. But absolutely no whining, whimpering, chewing… and she hasn’t had a single bathroom accident. Un-fucking believable. I guess the “Angels on Earth” award is totally up for grabs now. Remy and Martin may no longer hold the prize… Yeah, Sandy took a couple days to stop her constant shaking/trembling (she was so frightened), and she initially frustrated me with her collar/leash shenanigans. But now? She NEVER pulls on the leash. This is what walking a dog is supposed to be like, man. So anyhow, I’ll have her until the day after John arrives, unless he’s keen on keeping her awhile longer. Probably not a good idea if I actually get the packers to come take our shit July 4 or 5. But back to Nemesis. Yeah, she’s all keen on checking out Sandy; we even exchanged mobile numbers. Ugh, so now I’m in this awkward gray zone. I mean, I don’t pretend to be a forgiving person. For sure, I judge (on others’ actions, of course) and man, if I think you’re a lesser human being, I really won’t give you the time of day. I know, sounds totally elitist, but sorry, I have a lot of friends and I don’t really need to bulk up my posse (haha!) with mediocre characters, you know? Yeah, sounds totally harsh but look, I got standards and expectations. And in the case of Nemesis, her past actions really made me dislike her. I still think she’s a ridiculous person, but for the sake of Sandy, perhaps something can be arranged? I don’t know. I mean, will she be responsible? She’s pretty studious; I just think she’s rude. So maybe that means she won’t scoop the shit… sucks to be her neighbor… See my dilemma? Ugh. And now I have to invite her to my house to see the dog. Pretend to play nice. Eye roll. I don’t know how else to explain. All semester long, she’s just really rubbed me the wrong way. Anyone else want to foster Sandy? She’s the sweetest thing, I swear…

Hurray! Just got a call from California! I know, it’s only 7:30 in the morning here in Shanghai, but who cares, SOMEONE is interested in my job application! I applied for a part-time grant writer position at a domestic violence shelter in San Mateo… The position is open immediately, but the director said she didn’t want to rule me out just because I wasn’t yet in town. So, we’re going to arrange a phone interview. What a relief. I’ve gone weeks now without any positive response, so hopefully this is just the beginning.

Well thanks to Lainey, I just wasted an hour watching Posh & Becks World Cup Party, ten episodes in all. Hey, we all have our addictions, and I’m the first to pipe up: I’m soooo the e-news junkie. Almost wish I could be like Lainey. Grant writer by day, gossip columnist by night. She’s moving up the entertainment news ladder too. Just got a gig on Canadian tv, as an e-news reporter. Good for her!

So yeah, I totally ate that Becks World Cup party shit up. Yes, totally overblown and extreme and disgustingly extravagant… Even so, I can’t say I was all that surprised; we’re talkin’ lives of the rich and famous. No kiddie games there. I should say that the party was actually a charity shindig. Who can argue about the cause? Raised several mil easy. In one frickin’ night. Apparently, the secret’s all about melding indulgence and philanthropy. So counterintuitive and yet so amazingy effective.

Anyway, more important is Victoria. Everyone has an opinion about Posh. I’ve never really heard her speak so no comment there. Also, I was never a big fan of Spice Girls… Beauty-wise, I thought Vicky was beautiful back in her SG days. Unfortunately, she’s done all kinds of crazy shit to herself since: the cantalope, Pam Anderson boobs; the hair extensions; the acrylic nails; the pumped-up lips… it’s all just too much. An absolute shame, because from the video, she actually seems to have a personality.

My take on David? I’ve never been a soccer fan, so his stats mean nothing to me. Still, I read plenty about his alleged trysts and well, you know my issue with infidelity. It triggers a very hot button.

Shit. Three weeks before the big move and what do I do? Burn a fucking hole on the top of the television. Jesus Christ. I’m a goddamn freak. This is what happens when you operate on just a few hours of sleep and then decide to foster a shelter dog. So I tell the organizers of this animal welfare volunteer org that I’m moving next month, and I want to foster a dog but please give me one that’s well-behaved and non-destructive. Well, the one I got is quiet enough, except that she doesn’t walk on a leash. And she doesn’t eat. So I end up having to carry her to go outside. And then while outside, whenever I tug the leash, she flips out and cries. I know, clearly she’s got issues and I just need to be patient. Patience is what a budding dog sitter/trainer must have.

So, I decided to keep her company by working out in the living room last night, instead of under the protection of my bed tent. It had just poured and thundered outside, so the air was nice and breezy. Unfortunately, that also meant the mosquitos were out. Well long story short, I used a mosquito coil. I propped it up with its metal/foil stand and put a thick plastic lid (I know, I know) underneath to catch the dust. Normally, I put the coil in a stainless steel bowl, but that was now being used for dog food and water. Well, just so happened that this particular evening, I opted for double coils. I wasn’t thinking. Plain ands simple. To make matters worse, my nose is dead. I can’t smell jack. And if I do ever get a faint scent of anything, I assume it’s coming through my neighbor’s vent. Yeah, that’s biting me in the ass now.

This morning, I wake up and what do you know? There’s a huge fucking hole on the top of the tv. Yes, I should have thought. But I didn’t. And yes, I know: should have, would have, could have. Please. Spare me. So I just searched through all the for sale ads in town. No televisions. Guess people don’t buy them anymore. I just spent 20 minutes scraping off the plastic from the lid. Jabbed my thumb with the Leatherman. Day is starting off just great. So I guess there’s nothing to do. It’s a shit old tv, not really worth shit but I have a conscience. I’ll have to tell the landlord. Guess he can deduct something from the deposit. Or I may call maintenance, see if someone can melt a plastic patch there? Shit, I dunno. Now I have to drag the dog outside and look like a dog abuser (in addition to being a moron). Lovely. When John finds out, he’s really gonna wonder about the woman he married.

View from the top. See? Like I said, a huge fucking hole! Next to the hole is my Leatherman micra. The same one that sliced Mr. Zhang’s finger. Also the same one that jabbed my thumb. I should add that my ayi gave me that boat/ship music box– it’s supposed to bring good luck (smooth sailing). Also, note the roll of white tape mangled earlier this month by Ozzie.

Closer view: I guess it stopped burning once flames hit the CRT.

Well the HSK was this morning, and I really think I tanked. Boo hoo. The oral section was ok, and the others would have been better if I were a stronger reader. Fuck, shit, crap, man! Clearly, this exam means I still have a SUPER LONG way to go. Yeah, I know, this whole thing was just an exercise, a sort of self-assessment… as anticipated, I turned it into something totally stressful. Now it’s over. Time for me to let go: I’ve kept up with school and learned a ton this semester, so that’s the best I can do. This language learning shit just takes time. I just hope I keep at it after I go… Btw, anyone realize the date? Jesus, June 18 already! Countdown to California! Holy shit. Really down to the wire: people are planning farewell parties and shit. What a bummer. I need to find myself a kickass job… HELP!!

Randomly, while I was surfing the web trying to figure out the general gist of the HSK (in English, please), I bumped into info about the FSWE (Foreign Service Written Exam). Apparently, the State Department is recruiting folks with Mandarin skills. Of course to complicate matters, they don’t measure Mandarin proficiency via the HSK. No, they use some Interagency Language Roundtable (ILR) Scale. What the fuck? If level 2 speaking proficiency is all they require, that doesn’t seem so bad. Not that I would seriously consider working for the government (especially the current despot and company), but well there is something appealing about traveling the world and getting paid to go through intensive language training. Still, I’m not about to put myself in the middle of a war zone. Supposedly the assignments work like this: two years in a safe, workable place; two years in a war zone. Two years in a so-so place; two years in paradise. If I had the guts to live in a war zone though, I’d be with some humanitarian aid organization. Screw the US government and politics.

Oh well, doesn’t matter: I’m becoming a meathead anyway. This gym thing, man… I actually took a break from it for like a week. Not that I was going religiously or anything (at best maybe three four times a week). But it’s such a pain, because once you’re in shape or whatever, you develop this fear of reverting. That’s like the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t want to go back to when my body couldn’t handle ten minutes of running. Ugh. And like now the gym is making me obsess over things I never cared about before, for example, my butt. I know, totally lame and superficial, but what can I do? I already told you I’m turning into a dodo bird. So like now I want a shapely ass. I just discovered that there’s actually a weight machine that works the glutes. I have no idea if I’m even using it correctly, but I’m trying to follow the diagram and directions as closely as possible. I’m probably not doing the “smooth arching motion” right, because now my lower back hurts– it feels strained or something. And I’ve also tried this hamstring machine. I used to hate those ones where you had to lie on your belly. Apparently, now there’s this upright one where you sit there, grab these handles on your lap and then curl your legs. OMG, who have I become? I can’t believe I’m actually talking about weight machines on my blog. This is a whole new level, man. Next thing you know, I’ll be logging calories and shit online. Ugh. This cannot continue.

Well I should remind myself that I actually study Chinese characters at the gym. Yes, I prop my little booklet of character sheets on top of the elliptical. So see, I still got some nerd left in me. I’m not going to worry about this internal conflict (meathead vs. nerd): in the end, I’m sure the dork side will prevail. I’ve never been part of the “in” crowd, so I’m sure that says something about my core nature.

Well the HSK was this morning, and I really think I tanked. Boo hoo. The oral section was ok, and the others would have been better if I were a stronger reader. Fuck, shit, crap, man! Clearly, this exam means I still have a SUPER LONG way to go. Yeah, I know, this whole thing was just an exercise, a sort of self-assessment… as anticipated, I turned it into something totally stressful. Now it’s over. Time for me to let go: I’ve kept up with school and learned a ton this semester, so that’s the best I can do. This language learning shit just takes time. I just hope I keep at it after I go… Btw, anyone realize the date? Jesus, June 18 already! Countdown to California! Holy shit. Really down to the wire: people are planning farewell parties and shit. What a bummer. I need to find myself a kickass job… HELP!!

Randomly, while I was surfing the web trying to figure out the general gist of the HSK (in English, please), I bumped into info about the FSWE (Foreign Service Written Exam). Apparently, the State Department is recruiting folks with Mandarin skills. Of course to complicate matters, they don’t measure Mandarin proficiency via the HSK. No, they use some Interagency Language Roundtable (ILR) Scale. What the fuck? If level 2 speaking proficiency is all they require, that doesn’t seem so bad. Not that I would seriously consider working for the government (especially the current despot and company), but well there is something appealing about traveling the world and getting paid to go through intensive language training. Still, I’m not about to put myself in the middle of a war zone. Supposedly the assignments work like this: two years in a safe, workable place; two years in a war zone. Two years in a so-so place; two years in paradise. If I had the guts to live in a war zone though, I’d be with some humanitarian aid organization. Screw the US government and politics.

Oh well, doesn’t matter: I’m becoming a meathead anyway. This gym thing, man… I actually took a break from it for like a week. Not that I was going religiously or anything (at best maybe three four times a week). But it’s such a pain, because once you’re in shape or whatever, you develop this fear of reverting. That’s like the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t want to go back to when my body couldn’t handle ten minutes of running. Ugh. And like now the gym is making me obsess over things I never cared about before, for example, my butt. I know, totally lame and superficial, but what can I do? I already told you I’m turning into a dodo bird. So like now I want a shapely ass. I just discovered that there’s actually a weight machine that works the glutes. I have no idea if I’m even using it correctly, but I’m trying to follow the diagram and directions as closely as possible. I’m probably not doing the “smooth arching motion” right, because now my lower back hurts– it feels strained or something. And I’ve also tried this hamstring machine. I used to hate those ones where you had to lie on your belly. Apparently, now there’s this upright one where you sit there, grab these handles on your lap and then curl your legs. OMG, who have I become? I can’t believe I’m actually talking about weight machines on my blog. This is a whole new level, man. Next thing you know, I’ll be logging calories and shit online. Ugh. This cannot continue.

Well I should remind myself that I actually study Chinese characters at the gym. Yes, I prop my little booklet of character sheets on top of the elliptical. So see, I still got some nerd left in me. I’m not going to worry about this internal conflict (meathead vs. nerd): in the end, I’m sure the dork side will prevail. I’ve never been part of the “in” crowd, so I’m sure that says something about my core nature.