Dialectic
Aug 6th, 2004, 01:18 AM
A few weeks ago, me and Sheki, in our infinite magnanimity, offered to help Zhao Gao clean up his new apartment out of the goodness of our hearts.
The fact that he has a car and we had a place to go had nothing to do with our intentions.
It is public knowledge that Zhao has a love/ hate relationship with Asians. Generally speaking, he hates them, and this is not unrelated to a psycho AF, a skank ho CCB, and many of his whipped AM friends he met in college. He has gone so far as to make a very brash "bet" with me and our boy Shiro119 (who, it seems, hasn't logged on for weeks, the bastard). He said that if he ends up marrying an AF, he will give us each $1,000. That's the "bet." We don't have to do anything if he doesn't marry one. It's absolutely beautiful.
Yet he can't seem to get away from us. And deep down, we know he needs and loves us like a heroin addict needs and loves veins.
So after we get to his place and he meets us an hour late 'cause he went out partying 'til six in the morn after hittin' the club with us (We were backin' up Sheki who had a chick who needed him to be at her b-day party, even though he's shown no interest for like two years but is too nice to say no, but that's a whole other story. Multiple stories, really. Highly amusing.), we get his place cleaned up and head uptown in his non-souped-up Civic to get some dimsum and shit I needed to fix my computer, which was overheating like a female panda in her three-day mating window.
Friends, ain't NOTHING can fuck up a gastronomic experience like bad dimsum.
Me and Sheki normally hit up a place that we always go to whenever we wanna eat good dimsum. The food is terrific, the chefs don't speak a word of English and will only read orders written in full Chinese for non-dimsum shit (no ordering by the number), the place is clean, and the servers are cool. But NO, Zhao doesn't wanna fuckin' deal with a parking lot full of Asians even though we're gonna have to park there later anyway, and so we go to this whole-in-the-fucking-stripmall dimsum place with the words "seafood restaurant" in its name. And it's fucking horrible.
Me and Sheki aren't elitist about our eating habits. We'll eat pretty much anything, as long as it's good for what it is. But this shit, goddamn, it offended me. Just offended me. We were very much disappointed in Zhao's taste that day. We decided we had no choice but to wash away the bitter taste of dimsum disillusionment with some fine bubble tea, our non-alcoholic drink of choice.
So we're in the b-tea place, Sheki orders first, and he gets a fine Yakult-flavored calpis, large, no pearls, 'cause we always get bloated when we order large with pearls after eating. Those of you who don't understand what I just said, find more Asian friends. I order a blueberry calpis and sit down, waiting to be sent to heaven by the juicy rush of berry flavor in a fermented milk base.
Zhao, feigning disdain for non-alcoholic FOB-style drinks, stands and waits. As Sheki picks up his drink from the front, two FINE hunnies of the Asiatic persuasion walk in. One is a hapa, and did she have some beautiful legs.
The conversation between me and Z went something like this. Sheki was too busy being enveloped in the Yakult.
Z: Yo, you see that?
D: Yeah man. Cot daaaaaaaaaaamn boyeeeeeeee!
Z: You know her last name is Johnson.
D: Ha ha! Obviously.
Z: Hey, do you know if the man's name regularly comes first in hyphenated names?
D: I don't know. It might. Don't know if there's a standard thing.
Z: 'Cause if her dad was Chinese ...
D: Yeah?
Z: Then she would be a Wang-Johnson!
D: HAHAHAHA!!!
[Sheki's looking at us from the front like 'Normally I'd care about what these bastards are saying but this Yakult is an orgasm in my mouth.']
Z: Y'know, people who become Wang-Johnsons, they're like ... they are exceptional people!
D: [Thinks for a moment.] Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!
Z: They're kind. And they're, y'know, considerate. I don't even want to use the word 'tolerant,' 'cause that would imply some deliberate intention to be kind and considerate. They just are that way.
D: Yeah man. I totally agree.
Z: They're ... [pauses, searching for the perfect word] ... they're gracious.
D: They truly are good people.
Z: They're like the Kents!
Let us all express our deep appreciation for the Wang-Johnsons of the world. You are utterly good people, and a credit to your parents, families, and ethnicities.
The fact that he has a car and we had a place to go had nothing to do with our intentions.
It is public knowledge that Zhao has a love/ hate relationship with Asians. Generally speaking, he hates them, and this is not unrelated to a psycho AF, a skank ho CCB, and many of his whipped AM friends he met in college. He has gone so far as to make a very brash "bet" with me and our boy Shiro119 (who, it seems, hasn't logged on for weeks, the bastard). He said that if he ends up marrying an AF, he will give us each $1,000. That's the "bet." We don't have to do anything if he doesn't marry one. It's absolutely beautiful.
Yet he can't seem to get away from us. And deep down, we know he needs and loves us like a heroin addict needs and loves veins.
So after we get to his place and he meets us an hour late 'cause he went out partying 'til six in the morn after hittin' the club with us (We were backin' up Sheki who had a chick who needed him to be at her b-day party, even though he's shown no interest for like two years but is too nice to say no, but that's a whole other story. Multiple stories, really. Highly amusing.), we get his place cleaned up and head uptown in his non-souped-up Civic to get some dimsum and shit I needed to fix my computer, which was overheating like a female panda in her three-day mating window.
Friends, ain't NOTHING can fuck up a gastronomic experience like bad dimsum.
Me and Sheki normally hit up a place that we always go to whenever we wanna eat good dimsum. The food is terrific, the chefs don't speak a word of English and will only read orders written in full Chinese for non-dimsum shit (no ordering by the number), the place is clean, and the servers are cool. But NO, Zhao doesn't wanna fuckin' deal with a parking lot full of Asians even though we're gonna have to park there later anyway, and so we go to this whole-in-the-fucking-stripmall dimsum place with the words "seafood restaurant" in its name. And it's fucking horrible.
Me and Sheki aren't elitist about our eating habits. We'll eat pretty much anything, as long as it's good for what it is. But this shit, goddamn, it offended me. Just offended me. We were very much disappointed in Zhao's taste that day. We decided we had no choice but to wash away the bitter taste of dimsum disillusionment with some fine bubble tea, our non-alcoholic drink of choice.
So we're in the b-tea place, Sheki orders first, and he gets a fine Yakult-flavored calpis, large, no pearls, 'cause we always get bloated when we order large with pearls after eating. Those of you who don't understand what I just said, find more Asian friends. I order a blueberry calpis and sit down, waiting to be sent to heaven by the juicy rush of berry flavor in a fermented milk base.
Zhao, feigning disdain for non-alcoholic FOB-style drinks, stands and waits. As Sheki picks up his drink from the front, two FINE hunnies of the Asiatic persuasion walk in. One is a hapa, and did she have some beautiful legs.
The conversation between me and Z went something like this. Sheki was too busy being enveloped in the Yakult.
Z: Yo, you see that?
D: Yeah man. Cot daaaaaaaaaaamn boyeeeeeeee!
Z: You know her last name is Johnson.
D: Ha ha! Obviously.
Z: Hey, do you know if the man's name regularly comes first in hyphenated names?
D: I don't know. It might. Don't know if there's a standard thing.
Z: 'Cause if her dad was Chinese ...
D: Yeah?
Z: Then she would be a Wang-Johnson!
D: HAHAHAHA!!!
[Sheki's looking at us from the front like 'Normally I'd care about what these bastards are saying but this Yakult is an orgasm in my mouth.']
Z: Y'know, people who become Wang-Johnsons, they're like ... they are exceptional people!
D: [Thinks for a moment.] Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!
Z: They're kind. And they're, y'know, considerate. I don't even want to use the word 'tolerant,' 'cause that would imply some deliberate intention to be kind and considerate. They just are that way.
D: Yeah man. I totally agree.
Z: They're ... [pauses, searching for the perfect word] ... they're gracious.
D: They truly are good people.
Z: They're like the Kents!
Let us all express our deep appreciation for the Wang-Johnsons of the world. You are utterly good people, and a credit to your parents, families, and ethnicities.