From the beginning, I assumed my Mandarin textbooks would be on the dull and plain side, meaning unconfrontational and PC (at least by CCP standards). So, as you can imagine, I was taken aback this week when a passage broached the subject of sex discrimination in the workplace. This particular passage centered around a 20-plus y/o female, unhappy with her current job, and on the prowl for a new opportunity. She went on three different interviews. The first interviewer mistook her for a secretarial candidate. When she corrected him and explained she was actually interviewing for the department manager position, he acknowledged her experience and qualifications but explained bluntly that they wanted a man for the job, because “women have trouble managing both work and home responsibilities.” The second interviewer also acknowledged her credentials but then asked her her height and weight measurements. In the end, he rejected her application because she didn’t meet their physical criteria (less than 100 lbs. PLUS 160 cm tall). “I’m looking for a job not competing in a beauty pageant,” the woman argued. You tell ’em, woman!

Pretty weird though, huh? The textbook really caught me off guard with it’s telling inequality like it is, you know? And the woman! Unfortunately, she didn’t land any of the jobs she interviewed for, but her character was so feisty, confident, and assertive. Overall, a pleasant surprise for my Mandarin books.

Bubbey got back to Shanghai Friday night after a four-week stint in States. Perhaps you wondered how I was getting all my shit together… kinda helps when my buddy’s out of town. I have to keep myself super busy, otherwise I’ll just sit and sulk.

So I asked John to bring back just a few items– Airborne, dried berries, Cetaphil. Of course, he brought back what I requested and then some, including a whole lot of junk food: homemade rice crispies, chocolate chip meringue cookies, Dove chocolate cookies, key lime cookies, crackers… an entire stash. I’m not called a cookie monster for nothing. I chided him for thwarting my month-long run of healthier eating and then I proceeded to cram three squares of rice crispies treats into my mouth. Now, forty-eight hours later, the entire box of homemade treats is gone. I’m a piggie a heart. Still, in my defense (am I feeling guilty?), before Bubs came home, I had gone about a mouth without chocolate. (Not intentionally, but since I was playing my cheapie game, chocolate wasn’t on the list of essentials.) Oh well, that’s all in the past now. These last two days, my body has definitely made up for lost time. Unfortunately, it’s not just the junk food either. I’m feeling the need to come totally clean here: yesterday we went out with some friends to all-you-can-eat Brazilian BBQ. Yup, I’m back on the meat-eatin’ bandwagon, and it’s full speed ahead. Truthfully, the flavor of meat wasn’t quite as heavenly as I had remembered. Maybe now that meat isn’t a forbidden fruit, my mind doesn’t fool me into thinking I’m missing out. Something like that. Mind you, I packed it in regardless. In fact, I ate so much, my belly hurt. And this morning, I woke up with a ton of bricks in my stomach. Who knows how long that stuff will remain in there undigested. Ugh, gross. After last night, I think I could probably go without meat for another while. I know, I’m a control freak. I’m always trying to control some aspect of my life.

Speaking of which, I’ve been quite good about going to the gym a few times a week. I still strongly dislike the gym, but now that I’ve developed moderate endurance, the workout is no longer the 90 minutes of complete and utter misery it used to be. I’ve also made some changes to the routine, which I think help me squeeze it in and curtail the time. For one, I no longer shower at the gym. Too much work to pack the towel, toiletries, change of clothes, etc. I live just 10 minutes away anyhow… might as well just do all that stuff at home (without having to see the naked woman lounging on the lawn chair, eating her apple). Also, I’ve cut back on the weights. My arms were starting to beef up again, so I decided to just lay off on that stuff and concentrate on cardio. Finally, I’ve changed my schedule. Because of class, I no longer go in the morning. After trying a number of evening times, I found the sweet spot: one hour before closing. Whadya know? The gym actually follows the same trend as Carrefour. One hour before closing, the place is empty. Awesome. It’s all mine!

Bubbey got back to Shanghai Friday night after a four-week stint in States. Perhaps you wondered how I was getting all my shit together… kinda helps when my buddy’s out of town. I have to keep myself super busy, otherwise I’ll just sit and sulk.

So I asked John to bring back just a few items– Airborne, dried berries, Cetaphil. Of course, he brought back what I requested and then some, including a whole lot of junk food: homemade rice crispies, chocolate chip meringue cookies, Dove chocolate cookies, key lime cookies, crackers… an entire stash. I’m not called a cookie monster for nothing. I chided him for thwarting my month-long run of healthier eating and then I proceeded to cram three squares of rice crispies treats into my mouth. Now, forty-eight hours later, the entire box of homemade treats is gone. I’m a piggie a heart. Still, in my defense (am I feeling guilty?), before Bubs came home, I had gone about a mouth without chocolate. (Not intentionally, but since I was playing my cheapie game, chocolate wasn’t on the list of essentials.) Oh well, that’s all in the past now. These last two days, my body has definitely made up for lost time. Unfortunately, it’s not just the junk food either. I’m feeling the need to come totally clean here: yesterday we went out with some friends to all-you-can-eat Brazilian BBQ. Yup, I’m back on the meat-eatin’ bandwagon, and it’s full speed ahead. Truthfully, the flavor of meat wasn’t quite as heavenly as I had remembered. Maybe now that meat isn’t a forbidden fruit, my mind doesn’t fool me into thinking I’m missing out. Something like that. Mind you, I packed it in regardless. In fact, I ate so much, my belly hurt. And this morning, I woke up with a ton of bricks in my stomach. Who knows how long that stuff will remain in there undigested. Ugh, gross. After last night, I think I could probably go without meat for another while. I know, I’m a control freak. I’m always trying to control some aspect of my life.

Speaking of which, I’ve been quite good about going to the gym a few times a week. I still strongly dislike the gym, but now that I’ve developed moderate endurance, the workout is no longer the 90 minutes of complete and utter misery it used to be. I’ve also made some changes to the routine, which I think help me squeeze it in and curtail the time. For one, I no longer shower at the gym. Too much work to pack the towel, toiletries, change of clothes, etc. I live just 10 minutes away anyhow… might as well just do all that stuff at home (without having to see the naked woman lounging on the lawn chair, eating her apple). Also, I’ve cut back on the weights. My arms were starting to beef up again, so I decided to just lay off on that stuff and concentrate on cardio. Finally, I’ve changed my schedule. Because of class, I no longer go in the morning. After trying a number of evening times, I found the sweet spot: one hour before closing. Whadya know? The gym actually follows the same trend as Carrefour. One hour before closing, the place is empty. Awesome. It’s all mine!

Lo and behold, I went out last weekend! Yeah man, with John in the States on business, I’m livin’ it up Sex in the City style! Baam chica baam baam. Ok, so not really. But I did get my ass out of the house on a Saturday night. And I even hit a trendy lounge/club! Unlike my Bar Rouge experience in October, I had a decent time.

So last week, my friend Tegan invited me to join her, her beau, plus another couple for hotpot Saturday night. We first met up at Tegan’s apartment in the JW Marriott, where she and her fiance have been living for the past two years. I was pleased to see a US MNC maintaining some kind of product/service consistency in China. (Usually, MNC China operations adhere to totally different standards than in the US.) This particular Marriott appeared to have its shit together. The suite, albeit a bit hotelish with the hyper color coordination and squarish foam sofas, was super jazzed up with a nicely outfitted kitchen. (I know, I’m always scoping out hotels. Same with office buildings…)

Anyway, shortly after meeting at the Marriott, we headed for pre-dinner drinks at Barbarossa, a beautiful lounge/bar inside People’s Park. I had a mandarin/lime mojito that was eh, not that tasty, but the atmosphere was nice and luckily, the damage was minimal thanks to half-price happy hour. I drank on an empty stomach, so it didn’t take long before I was feeling lightly buzzed. Roasting under the heat lamp didn’t help either. I started getting a little sleepy and drowsy and it wasn’t even 9 pm!

Fortunately, we got hunger pangs at the same time, so we hit Sichuan Hotpot, a local shop down Huanghe Road. Usually, I’m not keen on hotpot. I find it kind of boring to just plop raw veggies and meats into a pot of broth. Might as well eat at home, you know? Plus, dog meat tends to crop up on the menu… But this hotpot experience was great. The secret is in the sauce! And eating out with the hotpot pros, I got the insider scoop. Unfortunately, I cannot recreate the sauce elsewhere, as none of them knew the sauce names, but at least I’ve got Sichuan Hotpot’s sauce mixing protocol down (and it’s a tough one): one scoop from any of the six jars on the left, plus 2-3 scoops from each of the two jars on the far right). Voila! Tasty central: a splash of hotness mixed with sesame and peanut butter all thrown into a thick, creamy goo. Yummy! With the magic sauce, everything tasted so flavorful: mushrooms, spinach, shrimp rolls, radish… And the best part about Sichuan Hotpot? The place is damn cheap! Under 200 rmb for 5 people, and that included some beer. So, I plan on going back (have to squeeze it in before the warm weather hits) to clue my other friends in. I suppose I could try other hotpot places closer to my home, but please, then I’d have to figure the sauces out all over again… too damn complicated. This keeps things simple and cheap. The only catch is I’ll have to take only my Chinese friends; otherwise, the restaurant peeps will mistake me for the tour guide (yes, I was asked!). Oh well, I guess that means my Mandarin passes for local standards? Ha! I wish.

Like I said, I don’t have fond memories of school. I was born a bit on the neurotic side and well, let’s just say school exacerbates my anxieties (I had nervous breakdowns in middle school). So, now I’m a student again: I think this new phase is going to take some getting used to. You see, this morning, we had a quiz (or maybe it was just an in-class exercise). Either way, the teacher told us last Friday that we’d have to write the characters from memory. About 30 words or roughly 60 characters (each word averages two characters). Luckily, I had been studying a little bit every night anyway, so when Sunday rolled around, I was mostly prepared. Still, I ended up creating review sheets to make sure I had the strokes absolutely right (the character fonts are a bit small in the textbook). I even typed the words out using MS Word and blew them up to sizes worthy of vision-impaired readers. The lights went out around 1 a.m., but I was still wide awake at 3:30?! Class was at 8:30.

I’m a freak. Of course everything ended up being fine with the quiz, but I’m telling you, I’m messed up. I’m going to need some alcohol or SOMEthing to ease the nerves.

My newbie friends and acquaintances are always so surprised when I tell them I have a history of being high-strung. “But you’re so laid back and easy-going,” they counter. Haha, looks like I’ve actually pulled off some decent acting.

No seriously, I am rather laid back. Usually, I just go with the flow: Where to eat? What to wear (pre-Pamela)? Who should join? Whatever. No big deal. Certain things, however, I like my way. One example of my neuroses? Receipts. All kept. Yes, I even have shit from before we moved here. US receipts, China receipts, Taiwan receipts, Tokyo receipts. Receipts for crap eats and midnight snack runs to the Lawsons. It’s almost like I want to get audited by the IRS, just so I can pull out my impressive stash. Ok, not really. But to be honest, receipts are just plain handy for record-keeping and expense-tracking. And you know in Shanghai, receipts are a total lifesaver should you accidentally leave your belongings in the taxi. The receipt contains all the info you need to call up the cab company and contact the driver to get your stuff back. My receipt OCD isn’t so bad. At least I don’t input all my street vendor purchases into MS Money (I know someone who does)! Plus, in my defense, you never know when you’ll need proofs of purchase. In my life, I’ve encountered a lot of shit products– items that just break for no frickin’ reason! Receipts have given me new replacements more times than I can count on my two hands! And I’m not talking garbage items either: Bose headphones, Sony earbuds, Shure earbuds, an iPod, a KitchenAid blender glass, clothing, an Illuminations lantern… you get the idea.

This evening John told me about a feature on new cars now: tire pressure sensors. These snazzy things report the pressure readings on your dashboard. How cool is that? I’ve always had a thing for properly inflated tires. Back when I was with CDM, I drove from NC to a job site in SC, only to discover on my arrival that my car had a flat. Not so flat that the car couldn’t drive (obviously), but definitely flat enough to need a plug or patch. Ever since then, I’ve had this obsession. In the States, I checked my tire pressures weekly. And I even had an air compressor. John and I are carless here in Shanghai, but you can bet my bike receives comparable tire attention. I swear it’s the only way to smooth out the rough and bumpy ride. Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. It’s getting late, plus I need to go pump my bike tires. 🙂

My dear friend Sue give birth to a baby boy last month. Little Mason. She’s so the motherly type– nurturing, giving, tolerant, selfless. She said happily, “My labor only took 9 hours.” Jesus, ONLY 9 hours? That’s longer than an ordinary work day, I thought. She admits it was the greatest pain she had ever experienced but already, she thinks they’ll have another. Seriously, I just cannot relate. The woman had an episiotomy for crissakes! You know what that word means? Despite being the daughter of an OB/GYN, I had no clue but by golly, the answer ain’t pretty. You know that hypersensitive skin between the front and back orifices (let’s just call them that)? OMG, the doctor cuts it so the baby doesn’t rip it open on the way out. Oh my frickin’ goodness! She said they applied local anesthetics, but she still felt them cutting so they gave her a second injection. Ugh! Cut up and then stitched up. Not cool, man.

So all while she’s telling me about the experience, I’m spasing out like a true drama queen. Parenthood is just too unfathomable; frankly, I think she’s crazy to opt for pregnancy and parenthood a first time! And then to go through it all twice? Thinking that I was freaking out only about the labor pains, Sue reasoned, “The delivery is only ONE day out of your entire life. One day of pain.” See what I mean by selfless? She’s right in a way, but at the same time, come on, don’t underestimate the immense emotional pain a child can inflict. Speaking from personal experience, I was a complete pain in the ass for my parents. I’m not joking when I say they decided to halt their procreation program after having me. I might have been a goody goody student, but damn, adolescence and adulthood were and remain chock full of conflict, confrontation, and hard-core drama. Yes, screaming, yelling, cussing, door slamming, the works! I’m not proud, but hey, even as my father warned John years ago, I have a temper on me.

I’m just not cut out for parenting. Dogs are a wonderful alternative. You can care for them, teach them, train them, and if you’re lucky, they are well-behaved emotionally-simpler creatures. If you get screwed with a messed-up, incorrigible pup, hey, it’s only 10-12 years max. See what I’m saying? Parenthood is an irreversible, life-long thing. And it’s risky as hell.

I got a crap night’s rest yesterday. I just tossed and turned until the alarm went off at 7. Shit, man. The first day of class was here. What nerdass would be late for that? Hardcore. I’d pledged to be hardcore this semester. Ugh. I forced my butt out of the warm, comfy bed.

I went through the usual motions of getting ready. Ate an apple, ate a banana, and gulped down a large glass of green tea. The caffeine took it’s damn time kicking in. Meanwhile, the weather was shit. Freezing low temps and strong winds. Obviously, not a great start to the day.

That said, I was pleased to have my new bike, which spared me a shin-splint-inducing walk to school. I set off at a quarter past 8. Thank goodness I didn’t get the smaller folding bike because with my 16″ wheels, I already looked like a spider madly spinning her web. What a big difference wheel size makes! Normal bikes just flew past me! Good thing I didn’t get the smaller, 8″ bike. John was right: I definitely would’ve looked like a circus clown.

ANYway, classes today went well. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a front row seat (apparently, plenty of people are nerdier than I… and they selfishly put their junk on the seats next to them) but row 2 was close enough. I kept pace, though at times, the class felt awfully slow. My registered class was the morning slot, so I stayed on in the afternoon to check out some others. I’ll likely clock in a couple of full days to sit in on other slots and grades. Like I said, I’m a real dork when it comes to school. Gotta get the right teacher and right class environment. It’s all about optimized learning, man.

Furby is still out of commission, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. Following several days of research, I finally dropped the dough on a folding bike: the Bodyline F9 to be exact. I figure this is something I can eventually ship back to the States, so the item has some longevity. But mainly, I’m just thrilled my days of walking are over. Haha, back to cruising around; everything is just a few minutes’ ride away.

School starts tomorrow. Last Monday, I was on campus for registration and all. I took my placement exams, and I’m in Level 4 of 10. Based on my level, the tester thinks I know about 1000 characters. The minimum required for literacy is 2700 characters (which mix and match to form 8000 words). Obviously, I still have a long way to go. Gotta make big strides this semester.

Oh and guess how many textbooks are required for my class? EIGHT! Isn’t that insane? So many– four for listening, two for reading, two for vocab and grammar. I’m getting nervous just thinking about all this learning.

So class begins at 8:30 AM sharp. I gotta get to bed! Well, at least I’ll have the bike to facilitate my timely arrival in the morning. Ha, need you even ask? Of course I’ll be in the front row. I told you before: this is no games. I’m going into full-blown dork mode!

When did Furby get maimed? I have no idea. Maybe a week or so ago? All I know is this walking thing is getting old. I’m racking up like 40+ minutes of walking a day, and how far does that get me? Not very far. Probably like a 1 km radius from home base, so nothing thrilling (mostly just school and the supermarket); hardly worth the time and energy, I tell you. Sure, walking gets the circulation going and I burn a few extra calories, but geez, if I keep this up much longer, another pair of shoes may be in order. Of course, sneakers remain the ultimate choice for walking, but when you have to take style into account also (which now I do…what a bitch, eh?), the New Balances can really drag the look down. According to Pamela and Susie (my second fashion advisor), every woman needs to have a pair of casual non-athletic shoes: something you can wear with the hipster jeans yet still walk around in comfortably. Sigh. Sorry, but the sneaks will just have to do for now. This looking good crap is too much damn work. I mean, after all those trips with Pamela and Susie, I thought I was set for life. Nope, now I just find myself wearing the same new stuff cycled back to back. I think that means I need more shit, right??! Dreadful.

Whatev. I have more pressing matters. For example, I’m still searching for that ever elusive e-bike battery. I have now tried three different hypermarts, all of which sell e-bikes. NONE of them sell the battery separately. The sales people keep telling me I have to get a battery at an e-bike store, but jesus, where the hell are those? On my walks, I’ve passed a few more bike repair holes-in-the-wall (or is it hole-in-the-walls?). Now it seems a replacement will set me back 500 RMB (~$60) instead of the previously quoted 300 RMB, because in addition to the juice cells, I also have to repurchase the battery housing, which includes the plug socket. Every day I curse the thief who paralyzed my precious Furby.

I’m holding out though. I want to buy the battery from a legit shop. The street vendor says the repair will take three hours, and I don’t trust him enough to let him work on my bike without supervision. So, I have to find an e-bike specialty store on ZhongShan Nan Er Lu. I’m guessing I’ll have to enlist the help of a local friend.

I’ve been walking my ass off these days, because last week (after one of my shopping excursions with Pamela), I went out to find someone had swiped the battery to my e-bike! Man, I was so pissed. I mean, here I was having a good day, finally figuring out this body type classification system and these goddamn fuckers ran off with my 50-lb battery! What the hell? XJH recently adopted this new policy offering free bike parking. Well, a lot of good free parking does me. I’d rather fork over the 5 mao (6 cents). I gotta have people watching my stuff, you know? Was there a lock, you ask? Yes, there was but just so happens, my battery lock had a tendency to get jammed. Some days, I couldn’t even remove the battery to charge it, so figuring that no one was going to run off lugging this huge, heavy, cumbersome object, I decided front and back wheel locks were sufficient to protect my precious Furby. Wrong! And damnit, Furby is a bitch to ride without juice. I had to waddle that thing home. Not cool.

So now I’m on this mission to replace the stupid thing. I’m not sure if I have to take my bike so they can check for fit or whether there’s some kind of serial number or part number or what. The hypermarts that sell e-bikes are far away, so I can’t really walk Furby there. I tried to call Carrefour to get the scoop. No answer. I passed a little street bike vendor and asked him about batteries. He quoted me 300 RMB ($36 USD) and said it would be new, but seeing as his shop was a total dive, I had a gut feeling the transaction was nothing more than the repurchase of a stolen and therefore already used battery. In the mean time, I suppose this is a good way to get in some exercise…