I love Asian people. While this may not always be self-evident given my
As previously mentioned, the whole of the food court in my office building is owned and run by a close-knit group of Chineses*. I'd like to go on the record and say, "Fucking good!" They never get any face time any more. All the other more glamorous countries have stolen the spot light. There's Japan, with its silky, silky raw fish and fucked up fixation with pubescent school girls; Viet-Nam, with its omagawd-so-nummers vermicelli and thunder-stealin' war memorials; and Korea, the dark horse, with their oh-hey-we-made-tables-with-BBQs-in-them tables with BBQs in them and disproportional representation in stand-up comedy. Seriously, Koreans run shit. Like, all of it. Majority of sushi restaurants...all corner stores...nuclear enrichment programs. Every time I see what I think is a nice Chinese person - BAM - Korean in disguise. Tricky, they. Hey Korea, quite hogging all the glory! Just cause you got ballin' karaoke doesn't mean you get to usurp cultural power. China had their own goddamned cultural revolution, motherfuckers! Do NOT make me demote you beneath Laos!
Anyway, back to my food court people. I bring healthy food to work allllllll the time. Crustless quiches, vegetable soups, fruit, dark chocolate... I'm pretty much Dr. fucking Oz. But sometimes *cough*onceortwiceaweek*cough* I just get sick of that shihat and indulge in a li'l something called the Fit For Life Dinner from the restaurant - wait for it - Fit For Life. Your world has been rocked. I can tell. So check it: this is all these different kinds salads (lettuce, chickpea, parsley, roasted veggie, fruit) plus tomatoes, cucs, beets, asparagus, roasted potato, half a hard boiled egg and a protein (I get falafel or tuna). It's deliciousness in an Earth-destroying styrofoam container. Mmmm, planetary destruction. My favourite lady is about 40, very pretty, very Sesame Oil of Olay. She packs in the veggies tighter than...something that...packs...veggies...tightly. Simile fail.
Then there's this other lady who's roughly 173, hair magically cemented in place by 8 decades of wearing a hair-net and bags under her eyes so large that you could slip a newborn into each one and just have her shake her head from side to rock them to sleep. No one wants to see that. Lady, how about applying some of that cucumber salad to those peepers, hey? Ugh. Such bad customer service. The worst part. however, is that she is Cheapy McCheap-Cheap Cheaperson with mah combo! Listen up, there are not 1.3 billion of me. We don't need to ration! Just gimme my goddamned three chunks - NOT TWO - of melon and let me continue on my way! Dayuuuuuuum...
So yesterday I go and order it and, of course, I get the decagenarian and she totally jews** me (1 slice of tomato = wtf) but then the really pretty lady is at the cash register and so when I get up there I flash her this cheeky smile and whisper, "You make it better."
She kinda just stares at me for a moment and in those few seconds I realize that I've unintentionally just hit on my hot salad lady in the CREEPIEST WAY POSSIBLE. So then she smiles nervously and goes, "No, no, she make jus as gude..." like that's gonna make me change my mind and wait outside the back alley dumpster to cop an unwelcome pre-Ming Dynasty feel. I don't think so, buddy. If I was straight and into old chicks and super creepy and maybe a bit rapey too, insuring me that my salad was made with equally loving care would not be a deterrent from making you give me a foot*** rub****.
Attempt at writing a short post fail
*Going-to-hell-anyway Joke Numbah Wahn: China recently held a celebrity lookalike contest. The winner was everyone.
** Equally opportunity racism. I gots it.