Last night, I was at Stetsons with Erin, you know, just drinking orange juice.
In walks these three Asian chicks with three white guys. One girl was quite cute, the second was less cute, and the third was, frankly, rather busted - let’s call them Lucy Liu, Lisa Ling, and Margaret Cho.
You just know that Dude A started dating Lucy, and then Dudes B and C (possibly his roommates) were all like, “Dude, hook uss uuppp!”
So Dude A and Lucy, wanting to spread their new interracial love, introduce Dude B to Lisa, and then Dude C had to settle for Margaret.
“Omigod, check out Asian Fever,” Erin whispers as they are walking by.
I’m thinking, “Jesus, that’s like full-blown Asian Plague.”
Asian Fever, also known less politically correctly as “Yellow Fever,“ occurs when a white male is predominantly or exclusively attracted to Asian females.
The symptoms used to be quite obvious - studied abroad in Asia, love of anime, Samurai swords on the mantel, fluency with pick-up lines in three or more different Asian languages - but it’s all gotten much more ambiguous lately.
The second generation of Asian girls have come to age, and the market has changed. The supply curve has shifted to the right, and the cost of acquiring an Asian girl has gone down. You no longer need to go to Asia, understand the culture, speak the language, or even know how to use chopsticks - just go to Adams Morgan on a Saturday and buy one of the three girls grinding to “Boom Boom Pow” a shot of Cuervo, chilled.
And now that I am recently single, I myself plan to use the Asian Fever phenomenon for my own benefit.
Next time I get lonely, I will go to the nearest Anime Expo dressed as Chung-Lee from Street Fighter. I hear it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Ninjas and Gangsters
Alright. To the last person on Earth who has not heard my Ninjas v. Gangsters spiel, here it is:
In life there are two dichotomous ways of being effective - Ninja and Gangster.
Ninjas are defined by their covertness, subtlety, precision, and control. Their weapons are disguise, innuendo, and the element of surprise. They are the quiet operators, the ones you don’t see coming.
Gangsters are defined by overtness, bravado, excess, and insistence. Their weapons are unrelenting forcefulness, flash, and attitude. They are the ones who will make you beg, the masters of overkill.
Examples of the Ninja-Gangster Dichotomy:
In life there are two dichotomous ways of being effective - Ninja and Gangster.
Ninjas are defined by their covertness, subtlety, precision, and control. Their weapons are disguise, innuendo, and the element of surprise. They are the quiet operators, the ones you don’t see coming.
Gangsters are defined by overtness, bravado, excess, and insistence. Their weapons are unrelenting forcefulness, flash, and attitude. They are the ones who will make you beg, the masters of overkill.
Examples of the Ninja-Gangster Dichotomy:
- Dude buying a chick Cuervo shots, while taking water shots himself. - Ninja
- Dude taking Cuervo body shots off of chick. - Gangster
- Obama’s healthcare strategy. - Ninja
- Drive-by shootings. - Gangster
- Spies. - Ninja
- Carol playing savage Frisbee then scoring the Universe Point - Gangster
- Al Pacino in The Godfather I, II, and III - Ninja
- Al Pacino in Scarface. - Gangster
- Having sex with your girlfriend’s sister behind her back. - Ninja
- Having sex with your girlfriend’s mother from the back. - Gangster
- U.S. Marines head-shotting Somali Pirates from a mile away. - Ninja AND Gangster
- Cyber-stalking someone. - Ninja
- Blogging about cyber-stalking someone. - Gangster
Shameless 2009
I Match.com-stalked somebody yesterday, because I had exhausted all Facebook-stalking possibilities. I had scrolled through the 52 pictures he had, his wall posts for the past 6 months, the groups he belonged to, and checked out his cute female friends - and still I was hungry for more.
These are the things we do, right? When we have a crush that won’t go away, or a love that’s unrequited, or if we have too much time on our hands. I had found a new source to feed my voyeuristic appetite, and I wasn’t above indulging.
In order to search for people, you had to create a screen name. I made mine Stalker2009 - I figured if I was going to act psycho, might as well be honest about it.
I had been on Match.com before, briefly, and depending on who you talked to, successfully. So I knew the ropes - I knew about search parameters, sorting, key words, etc. - except none of it was much help since I practically knew nothing about him.
I knew that a) he was on Match, b) he was 28-30 years old, c) what he did for a living, and d) that he lived in northwest DC. So I inputted the information, and about a million lawyers in their late-twenties showed up. Now if you think that discouraged me, then you don’t know about me, or the nature of obsession, or have never gotten buzzed off of a half-bottle of wine.
I refill my glass of Pinot and proceed to go through all 32 pages of men.
About the fourth page or so, I got distracted when I ran into my ex-boyfriend’s profile. I hadn’t known he was on Match, but it’s not surprising since that’s how we met. His profile was just as I remembered it, except for one new detail - he mentions an active volcano that we had seen together.
Maybe I could have mustered up more indignation, but I had gushed about that very volcano to some dude at Stetsons about a week ago. People have got to do what they got to do to move on, and that volcano was pretty fucking awesome.
Anyhoo, I soldiered on, and after flipping through three more pages of smiling guys, I saw him. I was familiar with his profile picture as it’s one I had admired from his Facebook. I devoured everything on there. I know now that he loves nature, his favorite author is Vonnegut, he has a big dog, he works out 3 times a week, has been to China, is awful at snowboarding but loves it anyway, and that he likes women who are self aware. I hoarded these little tidbits, pried myself away from the computer, and got ready for bed.
Ok, so maybe I went a little overboard, but that’s frankly nothing new for me. And what will you bet, that next time I see him, I’ll talk to him about my big dog.
These are the things we do, right? When we have a crush that won’t go away, or a love that’s unrequited, or if we have too much time on our hands. I had found a new source to feed my voyeuristic appetite, and I wasn’t above indulging.
In order to search for people, you had to create a screen name. I made mine Stalker2009 - I figured if I was going to act psycho, might as well be honest about it.
I had been on Match.com before, briefly, and depending on who you talked to, successfully. So I knew the ropes - I knew about search parameters, sorting, key words, etc. - except none of it was much help since I practically knew nothing about him.
I knew that a) he was on Match, b) he was 28-30 years old, c) what he did for a living, and d) that he lived in northwest DC. So I inputted the information, and about a million lawyers in their late-twenties showed up. Now if you think that discouraged me, then you don’t know about me, or the nature of obsession, or have never gotten buzzed off of a half-bottle of wine.
I refill my glass of Pinot and proceed to go through all 32 pages of men.
About the fourth page or so, I got distracted when I ran into my ex-boyfriend’s profile. I hadn’t known he was on Match, but it’s not surprising since that’s how we met. His profile was just as I remembered it, except for one new detail - he mentions an active volcano that we had seen together.
Maybe I could have mustered up more indignation, but I had gushed about that very volcano to some dude at Stetsons about a week ago. People have got to do what they got to do to move on, and that volcano was pretty fucking awesome.
Anyhoo, I soldiered on, and after flipping through three more pages of smiling guys, I saw him. I was familiar with his profile picture as it’s one I had admired from his Facebook. I devoured everything on there. I know now that he loves nature, his favorite author is Vonnegut, he has a big dog, he works out 3 times a week, has been to China, is awful at snowboarding but loves it anyway, and that he likes women who are self aware. I hoarded these little tidbits, pried myself away from the computer, and got ready for bed.
Ok, so maybe I went a little overboard, but that’s frankly nothing new for me. And what will you bet, that next time I see him, I’ll talk to him about my big dog.
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