Ni hao!
I would write a bunch of other stuff in Mandarin, but I think 95% of the people who read this (not that there are 95 people that read this blog) would not understand it and I would probably incorrectly spell 95% of the words. Nevertheless, I have taken to learning Chinese like a greedy child chasing Santa Claus around your local mall. My knee injury really put a hindrance on the learning curve of Matthew Scott Atkinson, and with the clock ticking on my stay I sometimes feel like that same angry child who didn't get his "Mighty Morphin Power Ranger" or whatever it is that the Generation XYZ Child of today is demanding. However, I have come to the conclusion that it is only I that is whom to blame, as I recently took a hard look at my Tsinghua Student Identification Card (taken around the same time as my knee injury occurred) and my face looks to be about the same size & shape of an overblown basketball (fortunately this is no longer true). I should have either come into the soccer season in better shape, or not played at all. Additionally, the fact that I made the team at all is a true miracle on Earth.
For the last five weeks I have taken 3-6 hours of Mandarin every day (yes even on weekends), and the only classes that I missed were during my infamous three-day excursion to Qingdao. I have learned to: ask/say my name (which is WU XIONG "Kung Fu Bear" in Chinese); tell time & dates; ask and give directions; talk about the weather; order food at a restaurant without being served something that you might see on "Fear Factor"; buy pirated goods from knock-off Prada purses to pirated DVDs, etc. My teacher Mrs. Wong, a bi-bespectacled sweet lady who has become a good friend, and I recently even gave her my bicycle which I of course cannot really ride anyways but it's the thought that counts right?!? I have gone from remedial learner to legitimate student, and I have to say I really do enjoy going to class. So much so that I have cashed in on the party lifestyle of Beijing so that I can be fresh and clear-headed the next day (with a couple of exceptions, but only a couple). It's been a real role-reversal for me as these last few weeks are the time where the majority of my closest compadres are off to travel: China, Southeast Asia, or head home for the holidays; however, this is the most serious I have been ironically the happiest.
That being said I can say for one that even knowing the small piece of the puzzle of the Chinese language that I hold in my hands really does make all the difference in the world. By sending text messages to Barbara/Mengjie I have been able to rekindle our friendship/romance and was even told today that my "Chinese is fabulouse"(not a typo this was her spelling, although I do admit that the particular text message she is commenting on was written by my teacher). It's a funny deal too because I I have learned more about Barbara in the last month than the previous four, and have Mandarin to thank for this.
The girl I met at the airport, whose name is "Ming Ming" I have gone out with a couple times over the last few weeks and as I speak almost no Chinese & she speaks almost no English, our conversations have not yet gone as far as "The Electoral College". For one of our dinner dates my teacher even wrote four pages of questions for me to ask her, after I finished the script in all of five minutes there was really not a lot for me to do. I can't tap-dance, do magic, or even juggle and it was looking pretty grim... that is until I pulled out the somewhat bad words that I recently picked up on the mean streets of Beijing, and out of nowhere I was right back in the derby. Since these are not really, really bad words I will write them down here: "Er Bai Uh", "Shen Jing Bing", "Bian Tai"(if you want to know their meaning feel free to say them to the next Chinese person you see who is not carrying a loaded weapon). All of the sudden I was a smash hit, and as I acted like the dumb foreigner (I do know what these words mean and Ming Ming Ming was in on the joke), and in dead-pan seriousness asked the waiter/other staff at the of the restaurant the meaning of these taboo phrases my dinner date was laughing so hysterically that I thought she may have been possessed by the devil. Soon afterward she was tugging on my arm and took me to a place which is so incredibly metrosexual; so incredibly generic; yet so incredibly awesome.
Ming Ming took me to a Pool Hall filled with Alpha Male Chinese Metrosexuals, Pop/Rap Music not played in the US since 2004, and a cheesy female VJ with one of those old-school Madonna microphones from the "Vogue" days. Jaws dropped as I walked into an exclusively non-foreigner mingling point, but I am used to this sort of thing and played it cool as a fiddle until that is it was time to shoot some pool. Not only was every Chinese metrosexual the modern Chinese man's "Minnesota Fats", but my dinner date Ming Ming smashed me to smithereens in front of the hipster crowd full of males sporting skin-tight jeans and shaggy blond haircuts. Even though it was just as humiliating as it seams (and yes it was humiliating as everyone in the damn place was laughing at me), it was still one of the most memorable good times of my stay in the Orient.
The couple of times I have gone on for drinks with the boys haven't been at clubs or bars, but a much more magical place. "U-SPEED GO -KART" a place where you are allowed to ride Go-Karts at incredibly high speeds, sip on suds and munch on burgers, and crash into your fellow racers with reckless abandon and no warnings or reprimand. You also get to only race against your friends, so there really are no boundaries when it comes to putting a glove in a fellow Tsinghua student's face! In the six races I have competed in over the last few weeks I have finished: fifth, fifth, fifth, second, fourth, and fourth. This would be out of a talent pool of five drivers, so I have not been winning the Indy 500 of Go-Kart (or whatever my German sauerkraut eating adversaries say that the top Formula One Race is). BUT, I have gotten into more life-risking crashes than anybody at that track by a mile. In my fourth race I crashed into my friend Ralf's kart with such speed that it actually broke the cart, and even his seat belt snapped off. It really could have been an all-time great YouTube clip since his cart was stuck on the rail, and rather than just drive around him I decided to crash into him at top speed with such ferocious force that my kart actually popped into the air. He kept asking me, "Why would you do that...Why?" I never really had an answer for that one, but by the looks on the faces of all the startled Chinese watching our races from the upper-deck area he was not the only one who thought that way.
It was a magical moment and henceforth I got the street credibility that I always wished I had as an adolescent, and this was proven true by the legendary driver EBO (whose finishes are polar-opposites of mine) as he was stuck on a rail and saw my kart coming and yanked off of seat-belt and ran out of his kart like the German ferry-duster he is. I have to admit, my neck still hurts and my back is sore, but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
well that's all for now, this may be my last post in the Orient but I will put some pics up soon.
Love & Respect,
The King of Crash
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Qingdao Express
Qingdao is a city by a beach, a beach where overweight Chinese men run on the sand in bright blue Speedo's on absolutely frigid days. I have never wanted to be blind, but during my walks on the Qingdao beaches I would have liked to trade places with Stevie Wonder. Nevertheless, I took off my shoes and dipped my toes in the water in order to say that I did, so I did my own stripping of sorts in order to acquiesce to the powers that be....and after I had done so, I vowed to never do it again.
I spent my Saturday touring the beautiful beaches and being bombarded by merchants, beggars, and well more merchants & beggars. I am way too nice when it comes to the homeless, and upon seeing a woman with a baby with gobs of dirt oh his face, I caved in like a Malibu landslide and and put $50 RMB in their basket (about eight US dollars). Within seconds a small army of women with babies were storming after me, and because I could not outrun them with my crippled knee, I had to give each pair some financial assistance in order to flee without being attacked by a mother and her small child. On a side note: I learned a few days ago from my Grinch of a physical therapist that many of these babies are "rented" from rural villages, and are not actually the children of the men/woman that use them to gain sympathy from tourists. Even worse than this is that the sludge on the face of the baby is not because of a poor standard of living, but it is carefully applied by the adult to the child in order to get bigger "donations". Additionally, many of the families who rent children are very wealthy in their respective native villages. This is not a made-up story and is a well-known swindle in the Orient. I got served!
After escaping the relentless beggars I spotted a carnival-type game where you throw a full-size basketball at seven bowling pins from about ten feet away, and the object is to knock them all over for great financial reward. Within a few minutes there was an audience of some fifty Chinese people (I was THE ONLY white person on the beach, so that alone made me quite the oddity) and my braggadocios boasting and crossover dribbles inspired a mob of Chinese revelers to cheers and jeer me like the village fool. Every time that I tossed the ball at the seven pins of pain I would seem to knock over all but one of the adversarial bowling pins. This made me both more more determined than a competitive eater at "The Coney Island Hot-Dog Eating Contest" and as angry as Star Jones in a planet where plastic surgery is outlawed. With each miss a fossil of a Chinese man with less teeth than I have ears would scream in my grill..."LIANG KUAI!!!" Meaning that I had just lost another two RMB. I was trying everything: rolling the ball, tossing it like a jump-shot, granny-style, overhand... all for more financial failure. As the crowd grew to a ruckus atmosphere, and teenage Chinese vixens made me feel like a pretty-boy karaoke king I became relentless on my assault of this impossible game. When it was all said and done I had not knocked over the seven pins a single time...and I was $300 RMB poorer (yes that is 150 misses!)
Later that day I had my big dinner with the CEO of Asian Ops for a large company. He picked me up with his personal driver in an AUDI, and we were soon joking around like old friends. The car stopped at an Italian restaurant named "Napoli" and rather than order from the menu, Chris had them bring out his own sampling of all the best dishes. We polished off a bottle of red wine and in the hour conversation that came with the food & drink, I learned an immense amount of knowledge about the business climate in Qingdao; Chris the person and his rocket-launch to success both in the United States & in China; general tips about how to do business in China; and women, he loves to talk about women. Chris sold all of the American franchises that he owned in 2005 for huge financial reward, and was so high on the hog that he was about to retire in his early-forties. The CEO of the entire company coaxed Chris into doing the consulting for a move to China, and soon thereafter Chris decided to purchase the license rights for all franchises in China and there will soon be many. The dinner was pretty serious and I have to say I was a wallflower in the talks, as I had little to teach and much to learn...this was until dessert.
Instead of Mud Pie or Vanilla Ice Cream, the waitress brought out three bottles of Desertif alcohol and she sat down with us as did the entire female staff of the restaurant. In fact the restaurant basically stopped doing business as a whole, and only Chris, myself, and a slew of the female staff at our table were left in what at first seemed like a very packed place. A "drink yo' face off setting" came out of nowhere like a hurricane in Switzerland, and Chris morphed from serious business executive to John Daly on Spring Break right before my eyes. I had no idea this was coming, and reluctantly fired up shot after shot of God knows what. Thankfully, my friend J.P. from Korea had been training me for such an event, and within a half-hour it was Chris that was drunk as a skunk and my demeanor was still not seriously altered. I kept drinking glass after glass of water, and managed to keep my bearings about me during yet another incredibly strange exchange in The Orient. The "Gong Fu Xiong Mau" (Kung Fu Panda) Tsinghua student identification card was displayed soon thereafter and beautiful Chinese women were continuously greeting me with compliments I in no way deserved because of their love for the greatness of panda lore.
After the hurricane ended Chris demanded that I accompany him and his posse to "The New York Bar" where a rag-tag jazz/funk band belted out Kenny G hits. Our table was pillaged by other executives in the same never-never-land as Chris resided in: and owners of yachts, managers of restaurants & hotels, a C.O.O., and other prominent business figures were soon yucking it up with a gang of other expats and Chinese waitresses. I was being ordered "Scoobey-Doo" drinks which were incredibly sour and made me want to head for the hills, but to "save face" I kept up with the rest of the group. Speaking of saving face, one of the girls at "Napoli" told me she hated drinking with Chris, but had to "save face" for her manager and restaurant and therefore followed suit with everybody else. Since I am not yet adapted to the Chinese culture I decided that I wanted to "save my face" and took a taxi home so I could enjoy my last day in the city. Chris and his gang of lush executives were shocked & appalled that I would leave early, but I made up some ridiculous excuse about my knee acting up (when I really need an excuse to leave somewhere, this one never lets me down), and was soon back in bed and waking up with the incessant ring of my cell phone the following day.
The next day I realized something pretty quickly, I would never work for somebody like Chris. A heck of a nice guy, and a prominent businessman, but I am going to need to have a separation between the business & social side of things in my life. I believe that this is a major difference between the business world of the West & East, in that in the West my paradigm of work & social life is kept separate; however, in the Orient many times these two worlds are meshed into one. I believe this to be the most true in Korea, as my friend J.P. has lectured me many times on how the company you work for becomes your family, and your real family becomes secondary to your business family. I love Koreans and think they are beautiful and entertaining people, but I am certain that I could never want to work there. I feel confident that for a short-time I could handle a business project both in Korea or for a person like Chris, but for a long-term position there is just no way. Sometimes I just want to go home and watch a pirated DVD (saw the new James Bond last night on my DVD player, not bad).
I spent my last day doing more sight-seeing, even going to the Tsingtao Museum where sadly enough I was too tired from the previous evening to sip even a sprinkle of Tsingtao greatness. I also rented a cross between a taxi & a tricycle, and this three-wheeled specimen was about as powerful as a push-cart powered by overweight donkeys. I could not stop laughing the entire ride as I was still delirious from the previous day, and this inspired my taxi driver to laugh as well; thus, making me laugh harder and so on and so forth...a truly magical ride around town to say the least. I'm pretty sure I changed the destination three or four times so that he wouldn't stop touring me around by the beach, as I kept my window down and my head held higf. Upon making it to the airport, I received a frantic text message from Chris asking me to stay at his place for another week. That he had big plans and lots of huge dinners & parties for us to attend. Within seconds I received a phone call from him, I took a brief look at the Caller ID and then turned off my phone. Enough was enough and the towel was thrown like I was a battered boxer whose only chance for recovery was abandonment.
Qingdao Express is now closed,
matthew
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Holiday Nonsense in The Orient
The "Three Amigos of the Orient" (the dumb American Matt, the polite Norwegian Oystein, and the crazy Korean JK). This would be us laughing uncontrollably as the Chinese acted out scenes from "Titanic"...priceless!
Crazy Chinese acting out love scenes from "Titanic"
Santa demands satisfaction...love & respect from the Orient!
So a Norwegian & a dumb American go to a Danish Christmas party in Beijing...The worm has turned again for me in the Orient as the last few weeks have been nothing short of spectacular. For those of you who tried to convince me to come home and have my surgery under Uncle Sam's watchful arms, I have to say that you were about as wrong as a Chinese metrosexual dancing in a mosh pit at a punk rock concert (yes this does happen here on a regular basis, for those of you not possessing MTV Asia). My knee is healthy and I'm out and about every day all-day; the city is open and new friends are ever-present; and I've still got a month of being a full six inches taller than the average Chinese height (if only I could play basketball!). Long story short life is very good again, thanks to advice from my amigo Eric whom I met at Hooters a few weeks ago in Shanghai: if you learn the language in China everything opens up. Not that I have learned the language, but I'm now taking intensive one-on-one sessions every day, and am well on my way to winning back the heart of the former ex-gf as well as several other Chinese vixens before my inevitable departure back to the States. I'm back in the good graces of Barbara as I now send her text messages in the Pinyin version of Chinese (in which I get replies back in seconds, and will be spending many days with this former flame before I depart). The Pinyin Chinese language is a bridge for us gringos because it uses the American alphabet to form words. It is like the elementary version for the Chinese before they learn the characters, and it is stern...but fair. Nevertheless, I'm learning this stuff with more diligence than I can remember having for anything...well ever.
I now spend about six hours a day completely devoted to learning Chinese. I wish I could say my motivation was to do more business with in China, but in reality it is about 90% driven to meet women. But I guess any motive is a good motive, at least I keep telling myself that. I picked up a Chinese business-woman who looks like a ballerina as I waited for my flight from Beijing to Qingdao this morning. She was so far out of my league(maybe galaxy), and strangely enough it is was this mighty Aphrodite who waltzed over to me: while wearing an ensemble of Prada, Gucci, and other Paris Hilton propaganda with a dynamite pair of tight leopard-skin pants. She pounced on me as I methodically studied my "Chinese 101" book at the Beijing Airport. Soon thereafter I found myself missing my flight and having lunch with this Chinese She-Devil, and as I type this my cell phone is blowing up from this woman who demands satisfaction immediately (I dressed snappy at the airport so she probably didn't realize I am a social-loafer at heart....well actually am a social-loafer but at heart I detest the truth...LOL).
Am I an idiot for not immediately figuring out how important it is to learn Chinese...YES! But is there anything I can do about that now.....not so much. Plus I was granted the golden goose of excuses as a metal bottle-rocket was kindly inserted into my knee by a mad scientist of a Chinese doctor. I'm throwing around this excuse at family barbecues like Crocodile Dundee hitting that limousine driver with his boomerang in "Crocodile Dundee 2". But as they say in The Sopranos, New Jersey, and other unsavory places of the world..."now, it's all gravy."
So speaking of gravy let's now talk Chinese Turkey Day. It was easily the most surreal day of my many surreal days out here in a world that anyone in the Western hemisphere would classify as surreal, or just plain nuts (in a good way in my opinion). Remember we are talking about a place where pedestrians are moving targets and launching a spit-wad on the side of the street is about as normal as someone in the Unites States picking up a quarter off of the ground.
I embarked on my mission to the Tsinghua Thanksgiving Festivities with a few friends from the Exchange-MBA Program and we brought a multinational faction that would make the UN Proud: Norwegians, a Korean, a couple of Germans, and some other Euro or two in the mix whose national heritage I'm invariably forgetting. In terms of demographic scale of the actual Thanksgiving Party which was held at a medium-sized restaurant, I would say it was about 85% Chinese people, my eight or so foreign colleagues in our infamous outfit, and well that was about it.. Also, a few of the Euro crew I was holding court with were well above the six-foot club making them Jolley-Green Giants in a see of jockeys...so yes, we stuck out more than a little bit. Instead of grabbing individual beers like the rest of the Chinese faction, we just decided to pillage the pitchers that everyone else used to pour their drinks into. So out of the six or so pitchers at any one time that the whole party was using, at least one and probably two were residing at our table. We came, we saw, we pillaged.
Upon arrival it seemed more than a little odd that a laptop was set up in the front of the restaurant with a movie projector connected to it. This was the first sign of the strange times that were about to come. Not soon after it was time to dine and instead of turkey and pumpkin pie I was greeted with pasta, onion rings, a miserable salad, chicken wings that looked as if Colonel Sanders himself had spit on them, and more random decrepit food that we all inhaled. It was terrible, but we still ate and drank...well mostly drank. The Chinese are so f$%^% weird sometimes. Instead of football and turkey, we spent our time watching duets of random Chinese couples who performed scenes from "Titanic" & other American classics that I hope to never see again. Since I am the loudest laugher in the room about 99.9% of the time, and the Chinese elite performed some incredibly non Oscar-worthy performances right in front of our very table, I could not hold back from cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West during each and every one of these so fantastically miserable performances. This made the Chinese couples (they were picked out of a hat, when one of our crew members was chosen we ignored and gave mean looks) performing feel both uncomfortable, and so angry that they will never donate to an American charity. I managed to get my misfit outfit to follow suit, so as each Chinese couple performed another magical number where they hoped to have all of Tsinghua behind them...we pointed, laughed, and slammed brews like it was Oktoberfest. It was so damn sweet. Honestly, I can't think of a better Thanksgiving.
The best part is when when one of the random Germans in our crew turned to take a phone call, we volunteered him for this utterly-ridiculous game where you pass a miniature Hoola-Hoop across your neck from one team member to the next in a race. Well, this sausage-eater happened to be about Six-Foot-Six, and the Chinese on his team were not tall enough to be jockeys. Just priceless! They eventually brought out a turkey at the end of the night but by then my stomach was as full as a pregnant Canadian, so I had to call it a night.
A few nights later it was time to have a Christmas Party... Danish style! Since I've had my ego compromised so mightily that I now look both ways before crossing the street thrice, I decided to actually dress up as Santa Claus. The outfit was a huge hit at the party, and we got guapo loco. Only issue with the party was that the two girls who threw this Holiday Dash are both incredibly attractive, and every man in a 10 Km Radius came to the party. So I remember seeing a few girls, but I also remember meeting and greeting a love parade full of Germans. My bro Hans from Belgium who brings the pain like the Famous Grouse, decided we should venture out and about on the town. It was 2AM, I was dressed as Santa Claus, and I had completely drank my face off...so it was on!
We hit up Mic's (next to my olde stomping ground "Vics"), but had a mix up in the party posse and had to switch plans and go to "Blue Bar". We dined on some street food to get our mojo back, and we were off... I walked into the bar with full Santa appeal. I had become St. Nick at that point, and everytime someone would ask for a present, I would greet them with the, "You have been bad, and Santa knows. I suggest you clean up your act or you're going to get nothing but coal in your stocking for X-MAS!" Or something like that. Either way, it worked and after grabbing a seat at the bar, we hit the dance floor...And at about that time Santa realized that he is still gimped out and retreated back to the table. Where I was shocked to see two of our team members having a Pamela Anderson/Tommy Lee orgy on the couch. I looked around and there was nothing: there "was that guy" dancing like a maniac to the funky beats, the cheesy Brits pounding fists and looking for a fight (not me...I'm a cripple fellas), fat Americans, weird Chinese metrosexuals, I was about to go home and then... I got a tap on the back by these two Filipino lady-tigers who were smoking hot and seemed to have a thing for olde St. Nick. Soon thereafter I was shooting the breeze with these two Filipinos and actually managed to spit some game Christmas style and had these ladies laughing in stitches. I guess they figured anybody crazy enough to come to a club full of degenerate booze-hound maniacs with a Santa Claus costume outfit on has got some cajones (I guess I fooled them). I have dinner with the sexier of the duo on Wednesday who is easily an eight. Santa Claus demands satisfaction. I will mos def be wearing the outfit to the club at least a couple times before I go back to the States...I do not want to go home!!!
mackin & stackin in the Orient,
St. Nick
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Looking for an ENTOURAGE
So I'm listening to the Doors drinking a glass of red wine thinking about Entourage as I type away on a random Sunday night. Not my Financial Statement Analysis Class, no not even International Finance, not the ex-GF that kicked me to the curb last week, or the fact that I feel pregnant right now from a long week of dubious debauchery that would make Charlie Sheen proud. Nope...just Entourage. I had not seen the show seriously since I lived in Hollywood with a crew of compadres that I miss ever so much in my sometimes lonely nights in an apartment located at the far East corner of the world. Entourage is much better than I remembered, but I still got another kick in the crotch...WTF! I will get into the glove slap via Johnny Drama at the end of my post but first some highlights of most likely the most infamous week of my being here...
I went out, I mean OUT Monday, Tuesday, Friday, & Saturday night with some fine folks from: Costa Rica, Germany, Spain, Denmark, France, KOREA, and who knows where else.
In the early evening on Monday I bumped into the CEO of Asian Operations (who I randomly met three months ago and had lunch with to talk football) for an American car-repair company (that I will not name but it is a large-scale corporation) & charmed the pants off of his monstrous mustache. So now I'm off to visit him on the 7th-9th in Qingdao, and may be able to pull off a job out of this upcoming misadventure. I am good in these sort of meet-and-greet situations as I cannot stop talking period, and don't get intimidated or nervous. I would prefer to come back to Beijing, but this may be too good to pass up.
To celebrate I met up with some Tsinghau students at "Propaganda", I know irony can be quite ironic (phrase coined by Craig Benner), and I wore a jacket that says "Hey Panda" on it with a panda that looks like he is in some sort of a street gang. Most likely the Crips, or possibly the Mexican Mafia. Women love Pandas, if my jacket didn't get a Red Bull Vodka spilled on I would be sporting it tomorrow morning and most likely have a Hugh Hefner style orgy by twelve in the afternoon. I'm hanging these days with quite the globalized crew, and my amigos Alejandro & Kai were nice enough to zip my jacket all the way up so I could not breathe while I was tying my shoelace. Instead of panic, I decided to spin around in circles and then attempt to dance which made a mockery of Pandas, The Orient, and myself. FYI- Propaganda is the modern man's destitute bar where drinks are cheap, but the level of sophistication is right around a kindergarten class. My kind of place. Next morning was not so pleasant.
The following day I did my thing and eventually ended up hanging out with "The King Of Tsinghua Facebook" Phillip, my former soccer amigo Alejandro Dos (he was the other non-local on the soccer pitch when I went down for the count), and our friend Makele (this is not the right spelling of her name) from Belgium. I bumped into a Mom & Daughter crew from Panama and we managed to steal the daughter from her beloved protector. Later that night I told a story that involves the most just flat-out awful prank ever created in the history of mankind. So hilarious, but just wrong. Even worse it has been pulled by "The Three Amigos" (my travel posse) in both Italy & Brazil. I think the clip is still saved and may be on YouTube somewhere.
A few days later I gave a presentation in my Economics Class that went off incredibly well, especially since I winged pretty much the whole thing. I volunteered to give the entire presentation for my six team-member group in order to not have to do any actual real work, and I did a song & dance that even "Milli Vanilli" would give me props for. To celebrate I decided to actually do something positive with my life & sign up for daily three-hour Chinese lessons for the next five weeks. Of course I broke out my "Kung Fu Bear" Student ID card upon entering and was a huge hit.
On Friday I brought it back like it was 1999, and hit up a club called "Bling" with a bunch of students from the language school. I am one corrupt S.O.B. as I'm most likely five years older than the mean age of the birthday party that I was invited to but still borderline crashed. I am a horrible dancer as is, but with my crippled-ass knee it is borderline impossible to mack & stack at clubs these days. Give me a bar/restaurant where I can crack jokes and I'm all good, but take me out to the dance-floor and I'm like the red-headed step-child drunk on whiskey at the Prom without a date. I met a girl from Kazakhstan (no joke) and things were looking well until she got a look at my handicapped mating dance and bailed on me in a matter of minutes and was soon thereafter making out with the drunk Mexican birthday boy. Overall, the night was pretty sweet because the crew that I first hung out with when I first came to Beijing was in the house,... and these guys bring the pain! I missed hanging out with the O.G. Beijingers too, except one of the crew went to the University of Texas and for that I will forever have animosity towards him. I went to USC for undergraduate, and Henry brings up the USC vs. TEXAS game every time I see him and it is not so easy for me to deal with. I still despise that game and wish I could erase it from my memory.
On Saturday I was gonna keep it mellow but decided to call my bro from Korea J.K. who invited me out to a casual party. There was nothing casual about this party as Koreans drink their faces off. One of the dudes at this party was an Aussie who is a Bacardi Rep out here in Beijing, and gave me the low-down on the city which I wish I had six months ago. This Aussie gets paid to go out to bars and make sure peeps are sipping on his stuff, and he took us all out to some legit bar called "PUNK". J.K. was a bad-ass wing-man and we had a loco time. The ladies from Korea were so friggin' sweet, they danced all night & drank like politicians. What a fantastic night...
Now it's Sunday & things are back to pseudo-normal. Got up, lifted weights & went for a swim, Chinese lessons, and doing the pirated movie thing. However, I uncovered an ancient treasure that happens to be Entourage Seasons 1-3. I had watched some of it, but had about eight hours of pleasure on my flat-screen waiting to get some love. And I did not go Mormon, I went all out and could not stop like Gary Busey at a motivational speaking convention. Back in the day when I lived in Hollywood we had a ton of close friends we nicknamed "the homies" that would gather at my crib every Sunday night to watch Entourage together on my forest green couch. These were the good old days. All day I have been reminiscing about these days of glory, sometimes being close to shedding a tear as I'm far away from any kind of entourage. If I get three phone calls in a day I'm popular according to "Matthew Atkinson in China" rules. So as every episode went by I kept thinking of the good old days: J.C. & Ballgame Jr. doing WWIII in the living room, Nino Brown & I going to war on the PS Deus, Agnew's wild world of amazing outfits, Pete the Greek, The Famous Grouse, Laro, Don Cheech, Roach's fantastic Halloween party when I dressed as Don Zimmer and got harassed by a bunch of Dodger Fans. This was a time that can never be duplicated as I'm losing my touch and a little bit of my hair. And when it was all about to come to a very emotional close in the final six minutes with Johnny Drama looking for his "Vikingquest" crush...the DVD FROZE! I did everything. Cleaned the DVD player, the DVD, and again & again to no avail. MF'ing Drama!
MF JOHNNY DRAMA!
Thadeus (old nickname from the infamous day of Hollywood)
I went out, I mean OUT Monday, Tuesday, Friday, & Saturday night with some fine folks from: Costa Rica, Germany, Spain, Denmark, France, KOREA, and who knows where else.
In the early evening on Monday I bumped into the CEO of Asian Operations (who I randomly met three months ago and had lunch with to talk football) for an American car-repair company (that I will not name but it is a large-scale corporation) & charmed the pants off of his monstrous mustache. So now I'm off to visit him on the 7th-9th in Qingdao, and may be able to pull off a job out of this upcoming misadventure. I am good in these sort of meet-and-greet situations as I cannot stop talking period, and don't get intimidated or nervous. I would prefer to come back to Beijing, but this may be too good to pass up.
To celebrate I met up with some Tsinghau students at "Propaganda", I know irony can be quite ironic (phrase coined by Craig Benner), and I wore a jacket that says "Hey Panda" on it with a panda that looks like he is in some sort of a street gang. Most likely the Crips, or possibly the Mexican Mafia. Women love Pandas, if my jacket didn't get a Red Bull Vodka spilled on I would be sporting it tomorrow morning and most likely have a Hugh Hefner style orgy by twelve in the afternoon. I'm hanging these days with quite the globalized crew, and my amigos Alejandro & Kai were nice enough to zip my jacket all the way up so I could not breathe while I was tying my shoelace. Instead of panic, I decided to spin around in circles and then attempt to dance which made a mockery of Pandas, The Orient, and myself. FYI- Propaganda is the modern man's destitute bar where drinks are cheap, but the level of sophistication is right around a kindergarten class. My kind of place. Next morning was not so pleasant.
The following day I did my thing and eventually ended up hanging out with "The King Of Tsinghua Facebook" Phillip, my former soccer amigo Alejandro Dos (he was the other non-local on the soccer pitch when I went down for the count), and our friend Makele (this is not the right spelling of her name) from Belgium. I bumped into a Mom & Daughter crew from Panama and we managed to steal the daughter from her beloved protector. Later that night I told a story that involves the most just flat-out awful prank ever created in the history of mankind. So hilarious, but just wrong. Even worse it has been pulled by "The Three Amigos" (my travel posse) in both Italy & Brazil. I think the clip is still saved and may be on YouTube somewhere.
A few days later I gave a presentation in my Economics Class that went off incredibly well, especially since I winged pretty much the whole thing. I volunteered to give the entire presentation for my six team-member group in order to not have to do any actual real work, and I did a song & dance that even "Milli Vanilli" would give me props for. To celebrate I decided to actually do something positive with my life & sign up for daily three-hour Chinese lessons for the next five weeks. Of course I broke out my "Kung Fu Bear" Student ID card upon entering and was a huge hit.
On Friday I brought it back like it was 1999, and hit up a club called "Bling" with a bunch of students from the language school. I am one corrupt S.O.B. as I'm most likely five years older than the mean age of the birthday party that I was invited to but still borderline crashed. I am a horrible dancer as is, but with my crippled-ass knee it is borderline impossible to mack & stack at clubs these days. Give me a bar/restaurant where I can crack jokes and I'm all good, but take me out to the dance-floor and I'm like the red-headed step-child drunk on whiskey at the Prom without a date. I met a girl from Kazakhstan (no joke) and things were looking well until she got a look at my handicapped mating dance and bailed on me in a matter of minutes and was soon thereafter making out with the drunk Mexican birthday boy. Overall, the night was pretty sweet because the crew that I first hung out with when I first came to Beijing was in the house,... and these guys bring the pain! I missed hanging out with the O.G. Beijingers too, except one of the crew went to the University of Texas and for that I will forever have animosity towards him. I went to USC for undergraduate, and Henry brings up the USC vs. TEXAS game every time I see him and it is not so easy for me to deal with. I still despise that game and wish I could erase it from my memory.
On Saturday I was gonna keep it mellow but decided to call my bro from Korea J.K. who invited me out to a casual party. There was nothing casual about this party as Koreans drink their faces off. One of the dudes at this party was an Aussie who is a Bacardi Rep out here in Beijing, and gave me the low-down on the city which I wish I had six months ago. This Aussie gets paid to go out to bars and make sure peeps are sipping on his stuff, and he took us all out to some legit bar called "PUNK". J.K. was a bad-ass wing-man and we had a loco time. The ladies from Korea were so friggin' sweet, they danced all night & drank like politicians. What a fantastic night...
Now it's Sunday & things are back to pseudo-normal. Got up, lifted weights & went for a swim, Chinese lessons, and doing the pirated movie thing. However, I uncovered an ancient treasure that happens to be Entourage Seasons 1-3. I had watched some of it, but had about eight hours of pleasure on my flat-screen waiting to get some love. And I did not go Mormon, I went all out and could not stop like Gary Busey at a motivational speaking convention. Back in the day when I lived in Hollywood we had a ton of close friends we nicknamed "the homies" that would gather at my crib every Sunday night to watch Entourage together on my forest green couch. These were the good old days. All day I have been reminiscing about these days of glory, sometimes being close to shedding a tear as I'm far away from any kind of entourage. If I get three phone calls in a day I'm popular according to "Matthew Atkinson in China" rules. So as every episode went by I kept thinking of the good old days: J.C. & Ballgame Jr. doing WWIII in the living room, Nino Brown & I going to war on the PS Deus, Agnew's wild world of amazing outfits, Pete the Greek, The Famous Grouse, Laro, Don Cheech, Roach's fantastic Halloween party when I dressed as Don Zimmer and got harassed by a bunch of Dodger Fans. This was a time that can never be duplicated as I'm losing my touch and a little bit of my hair. And when it was all about to come to a very emotional close in the final six minutes with Johnny Drama looking for his "Vikingquest" crush...the DVD FROZE! I did everything. Cleaned the DVD player, the DVD, and again & again to no avail. MF'ing Drama!
MF JOHNNY DRAMA!
Thadeus (old nickname from the infamous day of Hollywood)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Bye Bye Barbara
Former-Girlfriend/Olympic Volunteer: BarbaraSo there are a few thing I haven't really talked about on my blog
- I have begun to take bubble baths on a regular basis while listening to jazz music.
- I am deathly afraid of my physical therapist, and she seems to love to terrorize me and look forward to making my life almost as miserable as hers. On Wednesday, she said that I have the leg strength of a ten year-old boy. Seriously, if being a half-cripple isn't bad enough I have to deal with this death troll on a weekly basis who hasn't brushed her teeth in a decade.
- And that I have had a 23 year-old Chinese girlfriend named Barbara since the end of the Olympics, and we have a baby together(NOTE: Barbara understands the American sense of sarcasm, so a penguin that I won for her while playing a carnival game has been our pseudo-child. His name is "Jing-Jing" and he loves to eat).
Eight days ago I had my backpack stolen. That was not so much fun as my entire picture gallery from Hong Kong, Guanghzhou, and Shanghai was on it; although, there are not many pictures from Guangzhou as I would not risk my precious camera in a city full of hoodlums and worse. Another miserable aspect of the life of Matt Atkinson in these days of non-grace has been the horrible fact that since I missed a full week of school for my trip to the above-mentioned cities, I got behind on EVERYTHING. I have written four group/individual papers in 8 days about the ever non-interesting subjects of: Starting an Internet Cafe Business in China, strategy for the international expansion plan of Huawei, M&A of Chinese firms in the developed world, and currency hedging systems. So I have spent more time in my room than a bear in hibernation, and I look like one of those lab rats who can't open his eyes since he has never seen the light. There have literally been two days where I did not leave my apartment! So you could say things were not going well...
I thought that I had finally been given enough smacks in the face for any man to handle, but fate had one last kick in the balls for the grieving author. This morning I was given the finishing blow that I think was meant to make me run for the first flight out of town. It was like when you play the video game "Mortal Kombat" and you have already beat your opponent to a pulp as he aimlessly stumbles to the ground, but before he can crash face first on the ground you can push some secret combination of buttons to do a "finishing move" that adds insult to injury. I remember one of the characters ("Raiden") could rip out his opponent's heart and hoist it in the air to show that he is a real alpha-male, well that's about the equivalent of my miserable morning on this sad and sedated Sunday....I got dumped by my former Chinese girlfriend this morning..................by text message! I meen talk about kicking a man when he is down, this was really unfair. It would have been bad enough in person, or even over the phone, but when I saw the news on my cell phone I actually laughed... Screw you Paris Hilton for giving girls around the world the savvy to text message breakup news in foreign lands...LOL
But first off... a little background about Barbara because I have never really talked about my former flame. I think my former girlfriend Barbara is one of the most beautiful people in all of Beijing. She has a gorgeous face with really thick lips, and doesn't wear a lot of makeup; she has a body that does not have an ounce of fat on it (unlike my voluptuous figure); and she doesn't act pretentious and dresses in Nike style clothes and smokes the occasional lung dart (cigarette) with me, which is a bad habit and I swear I will be quiting by New Year. Barbara (her Chinese name sounds like Mengjie) is studying English in college which means that we can actually communication (unlike the other 95% of women) in this city.. She was an Olympic volunteer when I got her number, I was pretty hammered on a bus getting back from the Olympic Women's Field Hockey Semifinals: so you know it had to be true love at first site. We went to see Olympic Boxing together, and then had a really romantic date at Hou Hai, and well the rest has been history.
She is a busy lady as she goes to school full-time; works at different jobs; lives with her family and is doing stuff with them constantly; oh and she actually has friends. She also recently got over a long-term relationship, so our little romance was probably doomed from the start. Not to mention the fact that I am a goofy American who is only here on a short-term basis; nevertheless, it has been a blast having a real Chinese girlfriend. Not the kind that just wants an American boyfriend for money or a Visa; or the KTV variety who just wants money and is willing to perform fellatio to get it; or many of the girls out here in the Orient who seem to be fascinated with me because of reasons I really don't understand and I have nothing in common with except for ten fingers and toes. It is actually pretty annoying sometimes walking around here in China, as random Chinese girls who just want something from you come up and harass you. This happens a lot at the really tourist-friendly places like Tianamen Square and I generally wear a low-brim hat and try to act like I just killed a bus filled with nuns so the Chinese women there will leave me alone. I end up treating some of these girls like they are gypsies and give them a stone-cold look which means get out of my way(I am in no way proud of this), because I do not care if I run you over. Anyways, almost all of the girls I have met out here in Beijing are just flawed in too many ways to count, except this crown jewel named Barbara. Many of the other expats out here are hitting up KTVS and dealing with thirsty Chinese women for nothing more than a one-night stand, but I am sad to say I am just too old for this nonsense. Oh, and I can't sing either.
Barbara and I have had some great adventures together: going to theme parks and riding roller-coasters; laughing about how fat our pseudo-child penguin is; having Italian food together and me explaining to her about the fine cuisine of Italy and the Super Mario Brothers; without talking to her and seeing her pretty face in my days after the surgery I don't even know if I would have stayed out here in the Orient. She has constantly kept me on stable ground, even though I don't see her that often because she actually has a life.
But alas, the days of Matt & Barbara have come to a screeching halt. I have given her some serious grief about not hanging out with me as much as I would like, mainly because I don't have anything to do and she actually does so this situation has gotten a little rocky. So, I think Barbara finally had enough of my annoying texts; or maybe she got back together with her former boyfriend; it could have been that after having coffee with me this Thursday and being horrified by my atrocious appearance she realized that mating with me would be the worst idea since "New Kids On the Block" got back together; or possibly she has gotten peer-pressured from her Chinese friends to do away with this American devil...Who knows? I hope that I will see her again, but right now that is only a 50-50 shot. Listed below is the text that I got this morning from Barbara...
"No, I think I don't fit to have a boyfriend now. I am always busy on my study and job."
SENT AT: 1:31 (WOW! I thought it was much earlier.)
Now that I have already gotten dumped I am going to have to come clean about one thing. I could not find Barbara's email address two days ago, and I google searched her name (Mengjie) to try to find it. To my dismay and amazement, I actually got taken to a site that was Mengjie's (Barbara) blog and I could not believe how incredibly attractive that she is. I guess if you are going to date a Chinese girl on a study-abroad mission you might as well pick the best... This blog (that I will probably be blocked from tomorrow) had a photo gallery of my lovely Barbara wearing a bikini for all the world to see. I was not impressed that revealing photos of my lady-tiger are probably being stared at by Chinese metrosexuals as I type this blog. Then I saw a blog post from Barbara (which I will say was from about eight months ago) that scared the living daylights out of me, as her ex-boyfriend was written about as if he was the spawn of Satan. Funny thing is, I was online and Im'd a couple of my friends telling them how sexy my Chinese girlfriend was at this time...Like this just happened! LOL So I guess I got what I deserved as Miss Barbara gave me the axe today. I can't blame her, I am not the kind of guy that a Chinese family would embrace. I never met them, and it is probably the only reason I am still alive today...
But all in all I'm actually really good. A little sad, but not like super-sad. I played chess with my Australian bro this afternoon and we made a scene talking about all kinds of madness that attracted the attention of everyone in the room. I'm looking forward to my next five weeks in the Orient, and have actually decided to stay longer (new departure date is January 3rd). Back when I got here I just kept thinking about leaving, but now I'm content to live a life China. This is pretty unbelievable since I have been a human pinata for the Chinese to hit with baseball bats over the last few months, but I actually still love it out here. I'm even gonna do some job interviews in the coming weeks to see if I can't get a job living out here in the Orient after I graduate from Pepperdine. How the worm has turned my friends... Let's hope that I have paid my dues and am in store for some good luck, and Barbara if you do read this far (and don't feel like gouging my eyes out), please make sure to take care of our child. I hate to be a dead-beat dad, but it is time for me to go...
bye bye Barbara,
Father of Jing-Jing
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Shangai: Volume Dos
So I roll into this bar and the Monday Night Football Arizona Cardinals vs. San Francisco 49ers game is on. I was in euphoria as I pulled up a chair next to a couple of rowdy Americans and ordered a Guinness. These guys were like ten years older than me, but seemed like stand-up dudes at the time... I guess looks can be deceiving. If I could of I would have kick both of them in the shins as hard as I can, but since I am borderline crippled I am relegated to fighting off mosquitoes and aardvarks on my best days. After shooting the breeze with these two degenerates for a bit, I had the more annoying of the dubious duo put his hand on my shoulder and offer me these wise words of wisdom that were supposed to be inspiring: "Matt, it's all about hookers. There is no city where whores are cheaper than here. This place is paradise." What a sack of s%$& this toolbox was, and it just got worse from there. As I watched the football game (I have not seen pro football since the Super Bowl) with the intensity of one of those hyper-kinetic bathroom attendant guys that it seems has a life goal of handing out as many paper towels as humanly possible. FYI-If I'm taking a leak the last thing I want to deal with is some guy trying to wipe me down or spray cologne on my neck.
Back to the game, it was amazing. It was like watching football for the first time, and then all of the sudden the guy who I had previously believed was mute on the far-left says, "OH! STARS TIME!!!" And this nimrod flips the script to MFing Poker. "Poker Stars". I would have said something but I am a gimp, so I ended up cracking jokes with this unshaven American who plopped into the seat to the right of me. After shooting the breeze for a bit he asked if I wanted to go to a jazz bar with a sultry Chinese songstress. I was down like James Brown without a frown and hopped into a taxi, and was sipping a gin and tonic with his crew in a bit. Dude was a piece of a work though. I am no Adonis, but he was telling me how he had too many women to control and he might have to move out of the city because of it. This guy also looked like Kevin Love (the next Mark Madsen) after eating eating a sea-lion, so I gotta say he was full of B.S.
http://blog.oregonlive.com/highschool/2007/11/Kevin-love.jpg
The bar was awesome and the singer really was sultry. It was crazy to see such a petite lovely Chinese girl belt out tunes that rocked the house. Unfortunately, my new comrades were about as cool as having Willow as your wing-man at a bap mitzvah.
http://www.cinemablend.com/moviereviews/images/willow/willow1.jpg
The next day I had my flight cancelled and was stuck playing PSP at the airport for a few hours (which was so incredibly awesome). I forgot to mention that in the Kong I bought this new contraption on a whim, and now we are the closest of friends. I eventually did get a flight and soon later I was off to Shanghai.
I met up with an alum named Eric (who is the Hugh Hefner of the Orient) and he selected only the most intimate of settings for our meet and greet...HOOTERS! This guy is a cool cat and speaks fluent Chinese and our table was breaking it down like Michael Jackon pre "Black or White". In fact my new fabulous Facebook photo recalls this marvelous time. I'm sure recruiters will be very impressed.... I really could care less because every time I see that picture it will put a smile on my face. We had the "Miss Hooters China" hanging out with us, and got many pics on Eric's gynormous camera that even made me look good (not an easy job my brethren). After flirting with well-endowed Hooters waitresses it was soon time to change gears once again and meet and greet Daniel, a pledge bro from ATO at USC from way back in the day.
Daniel, is a man, a myth, and a legend into himself. Have barely talked to him in the last five years and the next thing I know we are at a KTV doing big things like my favorite bar in Hollywood "Big Wings". WARNING: If you are under eighteen years old (AKA Cousin Lauren, Cousin Maribelle) stop reading this now and go eat your vegetables...
A KTV is a place filled with borderline prostitutes who line up in a row of say fifteen and you pay them to hang out with you. They also play lots of Karaoke and you drink only whiskey. I am proud to say that up until a few days ago this was my first experience at such a place, but what a crazy place! I was a little intimidated by these thirsty incredibly-hot Chinese women dressed up like they were getting married, and each vixen gave me a look of both pure love & admiration (I hate the way that money works sometimes). I didn't know how/who to pick so I just opened it up to a pseudo-debate and asked if any of these thirsty-ass broads spoke English. Out of the lineup only one raised her hand, and soon later this sexy blue-dressed Chinese sensation was feeding me watermelon slices and playing dice games against me. She was actually cool. Good sense of humor; knew hot to roll dice; even got my KFC jokes. Too bad she was a whore, or something of the sort. So the night continued with us drinking our faces off and everybody but me singing karaoke. I sing about as well as Mike Ditka singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAXTbPCcGNM
Nailed the QMBA Fair the next day, and met a couple lovely ladies from Germany (their cards are in my stolen bag?!?!). The best part of the fair, besides flirting with Chinese metrosexuals, is that there are an incredible amount of sexy women who work for the other schools. Which makes perfect sense. Would you rather talk to my goofy ass or a beautiful woman with pigtails. Option #2 is certainly my favorite and is a major reason why these fairs are littered with Aphrodite look-alikes. Since almost all of the other men look like they are pregnant or are trying out for sumo wrestling lessons, some of these beautiful women actually come up and talk to me. More than a few actually, which really says something about my male counterparts at the fairs (keep eating donuts my friends!). These two women were from Mannheim University and one reminded me much of my Thai-food loving German friend Bianca who is the coolest girl that I know. We closed down the bar, and afterwards I came home and watched "Coming to America".
I hired a personal tour guide to trek me around the city on the following day, and we "rolled deep" as the previously mentioned Washburn used to state like a creed. Shanghai is beautiful and we went from site to site in a hurry to do all and see all. For some reason I got stuck on panda jokes, and everywhere we went I demanded to see a panda. When they did not have a panda medallion at the "Jade Factory" I threatened to leave. My tour guide was the best. If anybody goes to Shanghai shoot me an email and I will connect you with her. She didn't even welsh on a bet like I thought she would (and I probably would have). We did rocks, papers, scissors, and the loser had to catch a Koi fish with his/her bare hands. Well, I didn't think she would really do it, but she did kindof. She raised to about half-mast and pissed-off everybody in our vicinity. It was so incredibly awesome and I tipped her an extra 200 RMB for this type of extra-special service. There was a lot of other fun stuff too, but I am sure you guys are bored by now and are just waiting for a sign-off so here you go.
Prost,
KFC Killa
(I kill chicken at KFC like the Colonel must have killed it with the ladies)
Back to the game, it was amazing. It was like watching football for the first time, and then all of the sudden the guy who I had previously believed was mute on the far-left says, "OH! STARS TIME!!!" And this nimrod flips the script to MFing Poker. "Poker Stars". I would have said something but I am a gimp, so I ended up cracking jokes with this unshaven American who plopped into the seat to the right of me. After shooting the breeze for a bit he asked if I wanted to go to a jazz bar with a sultry Chinese songstress. I was down like James Brown without a frown and hopped into a taxi, and was sipping a gin and tonic with his crew in a bit. Dude was a piece of a work though. I am no Adonis, but he was telling me how he had too many women to control and he might have to move out of the city because of it. This guy also looked like Kevin Love (the next Mark Madsen) after eating eating a sea-lion, so I gotta say he was full of B.S.
http://blog.oregonlive.com/highschool/2007/11/Kevin-love.jpg
The bar was awesome and the singer really was sultry. It was crazy to see such a petite lovely Chinese girl belt out tunes that rocked the house. Unfortunately, my new comrades were about as cool as having Willow as your wing-man at a bap mitzvah.
http://www.cinemablend.com/moviereviews/images/willow/willow1.jpg
The next day I had my flight cancelled and was stuck playing PSP at the airport for a few hours (which was so incredibly awesome). I forgot to mention that in the Kong I bought this new contraption on a whim, and now we are the closest of friends. I eventually did get a flight and soon later I was off to Shanghai.
I met up with an alum named Eric (who is the Hugh Hefner of the Orient) and he selected only the most intimate of settings for our meet and greet...HOOTERS! This guy is a cool cat and speaks fluent Chinese and our table was breaking it down like Michael Jackon pre "Black or White". In fact my new fabulous Facebook photo recalls this marvelous time. I'm sure recruiters will be very impressed.... I really could care less because every time I see that picture it will put a smile on my face. We had the "Miss Hooters China" hanging out with us, and got many pics on Eric's gynormous camera that even made me look good (not an easy job my brethren). After flirting with well-endowed Hooters waitresses it was soon time to change gears once again and meet and greet Daniel, a pledge bro from ATO at USC from way back in the day.
Daniel, is a man, a myth, and a legend into himself. Have barely talked to him in the last five years and the next thing I know we are at a KTV doing big things like my favorite bar in Hollywood "Big Wings". WARNING: If you are under eighteen years old (AKA Cousin Lauren, Cousin Maribelle) stop reading this now and go eat your vegetables...
A KTV is a place filled with borderline prostitutes who line up in a row of say fifteen and you pay them to hang out with you. They also play lots of Karaoke and you drink only whiskey. I am proud to say that up until a few days ago this was my first experience at such a place, but what a crazy place! I was a little intimidated by these thirsty incredibly-hot Chinese women dressed up like they were getting married, and each vixen gave me a look of both pure love & admiration (I hate the way that money works sometimes). I didn't know how/who to pick so I just opened it up to a pseudo-debate and asked if any of these thirsty-ass broads spoke English. Out of the lineup only one raised her hand, and soon later this sexy blue-dressed Chinese sensation was feeding me watermelon slices and playing dice games against me. She was actually cool. Good sense of humor; knew hot to roll dice; even got my KFC jokes. Too bad she was a whore, or something of the sort. So the night continued with us drinking our faces off and everybody but me singing karaoke. I sing about as well as Mike Ditka singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAXTbPCcGNM
Nailed the QMBA Fair the next day, and met a couple lovely ladies from Germany (their cards are in my stolen bag?!?!). The best part of the fair, besides flirting with Chinese metrosexuals, is that there are an incredible amount of sexy women who work for the other schools. Which makes perfect sense. Would you rather talk to my goofy ass or a beautiful woman with pigtails. Option #2 is certainly my favorite and is a major reason why these fairs are littered with Aphrodite look-alikes. Since almost all of the other men look like they are pregnant or are trying out for sumo wrestling lessons, some of these beautiful women actually come up and talk to me. More than a few actually, which really says something about my male counterparts at the fairs (keep eating donuts my friends!). These two women were from Mannheim University and one reminded me much of my Thai-food loving German friend Bianca who is the coolest girl that I know. We closed down the bar, and afterwards I came home and watched "Coming to America".
I hired a personal tour guide to trek me around the city on the following day, and we "rolled deep" as the previously mentioned Washburn used to state like a creed. Shanghai is beautiful and we went from site to site in a hurry to do all and see all. For some reason I got stuck on panda jokes, and everywhere we went I demanded to see a panda. When they did not have a panda medallion at the "Jade Factory" I threatened to leave. My tour guide was the best. If anybody goes to Shanghai shoot me an email and I will connect you with her. She didn't even welsh on a bet like I thought she would (and I probably would have). We did rocks, papers, scissors, and the loser had to catch a Koi fish with his/her bare hands. Well, I didn't think she would really do it, but she did kindof. She raised to about half-mast and pissed-off everybody in our vicinity. It was so incredibly awesome and I tipped her an extra 200 RMB for this type of extra-special service. There was a lot of other fun stuff too, but I am sure you guys are bored by now and are just waiting for a sign-off so here you go.
Prost,
KFC Killa
(I kill chicken at KFC like the Colonel must have killed it with the ladies)
Hong Kong, Guangzhou, Shanhai Diaries: Volume Uno
First off apologies for not posting any pictures of the shenanigans from my misadventures in the above-mentioned cities. Nevertheless, I am unable to do many things as my backpack was stolen last night complete with: cell phone, digital camera, reading glasses, my only Sports Illustrated, paperwork that I NEED, and other necessary items. I have been told since I came to Beijing to always keep your eye on your bag, and last night I took my eyes off of the prize and now I'm backpack-less; unable to make phone calls; I have difficulty reading; and if I do read something it will unfortunately not be about NFL Football. Meanwhile, some Chinese metrosexual thief could be snapping pics of his party posse on my prized picture-taking device.
Anyways, after getting my knee sliced and diced in the Orient six weeks ago I feel like I can handle just about anything. Well maybe not anything, as I do not think I could win an Oreo-cookie eating contest versus Rosie O'Donnell. But still, this is difficult but by no means catastrophic and I'll figure out all this nonsense sometime soon. So now let's talk about the times spent in the cities of: The Kong, Guangzhou (a city filled with pimps and drug-dealers), and the Shanghai. These are mostly more fond memories than the backpack jacking that I got served with last night.
I am the representative for Pepperdine out here in China for the QMBA Fair as prospective Chinese students go to these fairs in different cities to learn more about various MBA programs. It is hands down the easiest job in the world. All I do is wear an expensive suit, smile, and give folks a sales pitch that is eerily reminiscent of Alec Baldwin's character in "Glenn Gary Glen Ross" minus the brass balls pitch. And for some reason I am really good at it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-AXTx4PcKI
Anyways tour stop one was Hong Kong. What an incredible city. Beautiful buildings, beaches, great shopping, it is clean, pretty women, I mean this place is just fantastic. Except for one half-hour at the QMBA Fair where I was accosted by the strangest geriatric Chinese man on the planet. The Chinese assassin interrupted my conversation with actual students by asking me about my feelings of varying Chinese proverbs and all kinds of nonsense. This guy sucks. I mean he was relentless, I even went to go get a coffee hoping I would vanquish my foe by waiting him out but he was still at my booth with a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. Other than that the fair went well, and that night I hit up the bar street and had a blast. I bumped into a couple jovial American rugby players and then met a couple of sassy girls who were game to hang out and listen to my horrible repertoire of bad jokes and self-promotion. We mingled with a gang of Chinese women dressing up in sexy pirate outfits for a Bachelorette Party. Lots of other fun times, and woke up the next day feeling like a million bucks. I lounged around THE KONG on Sunday: with a USC Alumni event in the morning, which was incredibly lame as my Trojans played with the ferocity of an autistic manatee; then I went up to "The Peak" where you get a bird's eye look at paradise; then shopped and actually bought some stuff for a change (I would like to note that my first purchase in THE KONG was a KFC Wall Hanger with the Colonel looking glorious); and saw as much as you possibly can in one day.
The next day I was off to the so-called "City of Gold" Guangzhou. In reality this place should be entitled the city of pewter or frankincense. After the MBA Fair was over, which I dazzled like Brian Boitano in a leotard, I decided to venture out to this mystical city that I knew nothing about. In thirty minutes of walking I was offered: marijuana, ecstasy, women, men, and anything else you can think of. I mean they probably had some hermaphrodites as well, if that was your thing. The "African Mafia" rules the streets out there, and they are borderline ruthless. Nobody told me this until after my trip...thanks guys! After my crippled ass was accosted for like the thirtieth time I just finally snapped and told this pimped-out drug dealer, to "get the f*&% out of my face!" Not smart. Not at all. The next thing I know this 50-Cent protege had gathered a gang of street thugs and soon after they were rumbling straight for me. I would have run, but I can't. I can barely walk. As the wannabe rappers inched closer to me, I was given a gift from the Gods as a taxi came straight from heaven to pick me up. I was going to ask him to take me home, but then I remembered a bar that was referred to me by a friend where they play NFL Football, and pulled the trigger on the move to this mecca of brews and pigskins.
Volume Uno Complete,
Colonel Sanders Jr.
Anyways, after getting my knee sliced and diced in the Orient six weeks ago I feel like I can handle just about anything. Well maybe not anything, as I do not think I could win an Oreo-cookie eating contest versus Rosie O'Donnell. But still, this is difficult but by no means catastrophic and I'll figure out all this nonsense sometime soon. So now let's talk about the times spent in the cities of: The Kong, Guangzhou (a city filled with pimps and drug-dealers), and the Shanghai. These are mostly more fond memories than the backpack jacking that I got served with last night.
I am the representative for Pepperdine out here in China for the QMBA Fair as prospective Chinese students go to these fairs in different cities to learn more about various MBA programs. It is hands down the easiest job in the world. All I do is wear an expensive suit, smile, and give folks a sales pitch that is eerily reminiscent of Alec Baldwin's character in "Glenn Gary Glen Ross" minus the brass balls pitch. And for some reason I am really good at it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-AXTx4PcKI
Anyways tour stop one was Hong Kong. What an incredible city. Beautiful buildings, beaches, great shopping, it is clean, pretty women, I mean this place is just fantastic. Except for one half-hour at the QMBA Fair where I was accosted by the strangest geriatric Chinese man on the planet. The Chinese assassin interrupted my conversation with actual students by asking me about my feelings of varying Chinese proverbs and all kinds of nonsense. This guy sucks. I mean he was relentless, I even went to go get a coffee hoping I would vanquish my foe by waiting him out but he was still at my booth with a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. Other than that the fair went well, and that night I hit up the bar street and had a blast. I bumped into a couple jovial American rugby players and then met a couple of sassy girls who were game to hang out and listen to my horrible repertoire of bad jokes and self-promotion. We mingled with a gang of Chinese women dressing up in sexy pirate outfits for a Bachelorette Party. Lots of other fun times, and woke up the next day feeling like a million bucks. I lounged around THE KONG on Sunday: with a USC Alumni event in the morning, which was incredibly lame as my Trojans played with the ferocity of an autistic manatee; then I went up to "The Peak" where you get a bird's eye look at paradise; then shopped and actually bought some stuff for a change (I would like to note that my first purchase in THE KONG was a KFC Wall Hanger with the Colonel looking glorious); and saw as much as you possibly can in one day.
The next day I was off to the so-called "City of Gold" Guangzhou. In reality this place should be entitled the city of pewter or frankincense. After the MBA Fair was over, which I dazzled like Brian Boitano in a leotard, I decided to venture out to this mystical city that I knew nothing about. In thirty minutes of walking I was offered: marijuana, ecstasy, women, men, and anything else you can think of. I mean they probably had some hermaphrodites as well, if that was your thing. The "African Mafia" rules the streets out there, and they are borderline ruthless. Nobody told me this until after my trip...thanks guys! After my crippled ass was accosted for like the thirtieth time I just finally snapped and told this pimped-out drug dealer, to "get the f*&% out of my face!" Not smart. Not at all. The next thing I know this 50-Cent protege had gathered a gang of street thugs and soon after they were rumbling straight for me. I would have run, but I can't. I can barely walk. As the wannabe rappers inched closer to me, I was given a gift from the Gods as a taxi came straight from heaven to pick me up. I was going to ask him to take me home, but then I remembered a bar that was referred to me by a friend where they play NFL Football, and pulled the trigger on the move to this mecca of brews and pigskins.
Volume Uno Complete,
Colonel Sanders Jr.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
A new beginning
Well I have no idea if anybody is reading this blog anymore, I am pretty out of touch with Western Society it seems. This was evident yesterday as I strolled down Chinese boulevards on my favorite holiday (Halloween), and saw not a soul dressed up in costume. It is was simply business as usual in the Orient, making life seem normal yet still very strange. I have persevered through a troublesome month of October, I feel like I went through the metamorphosis of a butterfly: I was in a cocoon for four days lying in misery after my surgery in a hospital bed; then I slowly broke my way out of the shell with training wheels (crutches of doom); learned how to fly (walk, or actually stumble for the most part); and now I have launched myself into the real world once again.
Beijing, China is not a handicapped friendly town and I am very happy to be off of my crutches. Nevertheless, I am still the slowest mammal in the city as my right leg has as much strength in it as a Newt Gingrich's gizzard. When I get dropped off via taxi to trek my way to class, the Chinese students stare at me as if I'm a mystic being that just landed in their realm. The SC jacket, or LA Dodgers backwards hat, or "LA Don't Love You" t-shirt probably doesn't help my anonymity. Nevertheless, the simple act of walking to and from class is really a big deal for me now, after having the ability to walk taken away it really makes you appreciate how fortunate one is to have a pair of somewhat able-bodied legs. The only real difficulty in my marches has been crossing the street since pedestrians do not have the right of way in China. Taxis, motor scooters, bicyclers, they will not hesitate to mow you over if you're got in their path. So every time I cross the street I have to precisely time my stroll. I wish I had a Youtube clip of the molasses-level speed I display in my cross-walkings. Small children whiz past me like they are on HGH, but so far so good. I am still batting 100% in my attempts to not get mashed by a Chinese speed-racer.
I'm really looking forward to November & December. I hope that these months are what dreams are made of, since I really paid my dues. Dealing with such adversity has made me realize how important it is to maximize my experience here, so I have decided to stay until the end of the year and really ramp up my Chinese lessons at three hours a day starting next week. I'm even contemplating doing some job interviews, so that I can have a contingency plan if I cannot get a good job after finishing my MBA at Pepperdine. Judging by the Scud missile's descent of the stock market, this looks to be a cold reality.
Well, I hope everyone is doing well back home. Just wanted to let the people know that Matthew S. Atkinson is once again back on top. We're not talking Mt. Rushmore, but at least some sort of a stepping stone larger than a pebble. I hope that my horrific injury will make me a better person, and I will say at the very least it has made me much more humble. I have lost my favorite hobby of playing sports, and even seeing the frequent sights of table tennis & badminton on ESPN Asia makes me cringe a little bit.
Happy late Halloween & USC Homecoming,
the no longer handicapped Matthew Atkinson
Beijing, China is not a handicapped friendly town and I am very happy to be off of my crutches. Nevertheless, I am still the slowest mammal in the city as my right leg has as much strength in it as a Newt Gingrich's gizzard. When I get dropped off via taxi to trek my way to class, the Chinese students stare at me as if I'm a mystic being that just landed in their realm. The SC jacket, or LA Dodgers backwards hat, or "LA Don't Love You" t-shirt probably doesn't help my anonymity. Nevertheless, the simple act of walking to and from class is really a big deal for me now, after having the ability to walk taken away it really makes you appreciate how fortunate one is to have a pair of somewhat able-bodied legs. The only real difficulty in my marches has been crossing the street since pedestrians do not have the right of way in China. Taxis, motor scooters, bicyclers, they will not hesitate to mow you over if you're got in their path. So every time I cross the street I have to precisely time my stroll. I wish I had a Youtube clip of the molasses-level speed I display in my cross-walkings. Small children whiz past me like they are on HGH, but so far so good. I am still batting 100% in my attempts to not get mashed by a Chinese speed-racer.
I'm really looking forward to November & December. I hope that these months are what dreams are made of, since I really paid my dues. Dealing with such adversity has made me realize how important it is to maximize my experience here, so I have decided to stay until the end of the year and really ramp up my Chinese lessons at three hours a day starting next week. I'm even contemplating doing some job interviews, so that I can have a contingency plan if I cannot get a good job after finishing my MBA at Pepperdine. Judging by the Scud missile's descent of the stock market, this looks to be a cold reality.
Well, I hope everyone is doing well back home. Just wanted to let the people know that Matthew S. Atkinson is once again back on top. We're not talking Mt. Rushmore, but at least some sort of a stepping stone larger than a pebble. I hope that my horrific injury will make me a better person, and I will say at the very least it has made me much more humble. I have lost my favorite hobby of playing sports, and even seeing the frequent sights of table tennis & badminton on ESPN Asia makes me cringe a little bit.
Happy late Halloween & USC Homecoming,
the no longer handicapped Matthew Atkinson
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The Aftermath
After making it home from my terrible trail of tears at the Beijing United Family Hospital. I was relegated to spending a full calender week on the couch without getting up for anything but food delivery and the bathroom. There were: no showers, laughs, jumping jacks, or smiles in my week of the unforgiven. Grizzly Adams had better hygiene than me by Sunday. Upon transitioning from the powerful pain-medication at the hospital to the less-powered pills from the pharmacy I developed a fever that kept me awake all day and all night. Not once did I sleep for more than two hours, and feeling like an insomniac is no way to live. Nevertheless, I kept myself entertained with a wide collection of DVDs, and ESPN Asia's live coverage of the baseball playoffs. Since I had to keep my leg pretty much permanently iced, I had to take the entire week off of school, and at the most I ate two meals a day.
Although this was hell on Earth, in some ways it is a positive experience. If you can go through a knife-fight with a surgeon in the Orient without your close friends and family around, you can handle a lot when it comes to living/working overseas. By looking at the light at the end of the tunnel I made it through this dead week, and now the days have been getting better every day. Last week was great, as I got to see all of my friends at school and I finally felt alive again. That is until I got served again this Monday. Here is my story of more tough times in the life of Matthew S. Atkinson
9/20/08
a. I took a taxi at 5:00 PM for my doctor's appointment with the only orthopedic surgeon in this city who I trust, and who happens to only work at the hospital on Monday. My taxi driver almost crashed several times (nothing new), and drove into a random lot where he mistakenly drove down a storage ramp to a basement floor of a grocery store. My fragile knee bumped against the door and seat in front several times due to the miserable driving of a man who never should set foot in car, unless it is the back of a police cruiser. After a few more random twists and turns the taxi driver tried to drop me off at the wrong hospital in the wrong side of town (I gave him a card with name & address, and showed it to him several times as it looked that we were going the wrong way) to my dismay. After a very heated argument (hypothetically, I may have thrown a few good-old American curse words in his face) we parted ways. I was going to stiff him, but since I am not very mobile I had no choice but to pay a taxi for being dropped off in the ass end of nowhere. By the time the dust cleared it was 6:20.
b. A do-gooder expat heard the commotion and vowed to flag me down a taxi. This guy was quite the saint since getting a taxi in rush hour traffic here in Beijing is sometimes almost impossible. A few minutes later he had a taxi for me and all I had to do was climb over a two-foot wall and I'd be on my way. As the fellow Yankee helped me over the wall a well-dressed Chinese woman ran out to the taxi and raced into the passenger seat. She had been standing next to me as my taxi was being waved down, so she definitely knew what I was a cripple who needed some help. The expat who spoke fluent Chinese explained her the situation as the taxi stalled and waiter for us, that I was late for my doctor's appointment and that this was an urgent matter. Nevertheless, the woman heard us out and told the taxi to go anyways. I am leaving this other taxi driver out of this who is also a son of a bitch, but not nearly as bad as the rest of those in the story.
c. I finally made it to the doctor's appointment thirty minutes late. It took me another twenty minutes to find a taxi, but we made short time and were there by 7:00. My doctor said to just sit back and relax as he was just going to fix my bandages and "take a look". I was looking forward to just getting on with my day, as there seemed to be not much on the agenda. The next thing I know there a collection of knives and other horrible metal devices last seen in the movie "Hostel" are for some reason laying right beside my leg. Soon thereafter blood is gushing from my leg like a fire hydrant. The doc just so happened to "forget" to tell me that he would be ripping out a piece of metal the size and shape of a fish hook that had previously been sealing my wound. As I howled in pain the doctor was unfazed, and his ceaseless ripping and pulling with strange painful devices lasted for another ten minutes of pure hell. After getting another slashing, the doctor then pushed and pulled my leg in ungodly directions until I was on the verge of throwing up.
So who is worse?
A. The taxi driver who drove me to hell, collected money he knew he didn't deserve, and made so many wrong turns that my knee was swollen by the time I made it to the hospital.
B. The unethical Chinese vixen (bitch) who knew exactly how dire my situation was, but still stole my rush-hour taxi without batting an eye-lash.
C. Or the doctor who gave me no inkling that today's appointment would be so incredibly painful that I actually screamed in pain. The embarrassment of coming out the door and having every single person in the hospital stare at me as if I was the exorcist was not the most pleasant feeling in the world.
From the Orient with no love,
Atkinson
Although this was hell on Earth, in some ways it is a positive experience. If you can go through a knife-fight with a surgeon in the Orient without your close friends and family around, you can handle a lot when it comes to living/working overseas. By looking at the light at the end of the tunnel I made it through this dead week, and now the days have been getting better every day. Last week was great, as I got to see all of my friends at school and I finally felt alive again. That is until I got served again this Monday. Here is my story of more tough times in the life of Matthew S. Atkinson
9/20/08
a. I took a taxi at 5:00 PM for my doctor's appointment with the only orthopedic surgeon in this city who I trust, and who happens to only work at the hospital on Monday. My taxi driver almost crashed several times (nothing new), and drove into a random lot where he mistakenly drove down a storage ramp to a basement floor of a grocery store. My fragile knee bumped against the door and seat in front several times due to the miserable driving of a man who never should set foot in car, unless it is the back of a police cruiser. After a few more random twists and turns the taxi driver tried to drop me off at the wrong hospital in the wrong side of town (I gave him a card with name & address, and showed it to him several times as it looked that we were going the wrong way) to my dismay. After a very heated argument (hypothetically, I may have thrown a few good-old American curse words in his face) we parted ways. I was going to stiff him, but since I am not very mobile I had no choice but to pay a taxi for being dropped off in the ass end of nowhere. By the time the dust cleared it was 6:20.
b. A do-gooder expat heard the commotion and vowed to flag me down a taxi. This guy was quite the saint since getting a taxi in rush hour traffic here in Beijing is sometimes almost impossible. A few minutes later he had a taxi for me and all I had to do was climb over a two-foot wall and I'd be on my way. As the fellow Yankee helped me over the wall a well-dressed Chinese woman ran out to the taxi and raced into the passenger seat. She had been standing next to me as my taxi was being waved down, so she definitely knew what I was a cripple who needed some help. The expat who spoke fluent Chinese explained her the situation as the taxi stalled and waiter for us, that I was late for my doctor's appointment and that this was an urgent matter. Nevertheless, the woman heard us out and told the taxi to go anyways. I am leaving this other taxi driver out of this who is also a son of a bitch, but not nearly as bad as the rest of those in the story.
c. I finally made it to the doctor's appointment thirty minutes late. It took me another twenty minutes to find a taxi, but we made short time and were there by 7:00. My doctor said to just sit back and relax as he was just going to fix my bandages and "take a look". I was looking forward to just getting on with my day, as there seemed to be not much on the agenda. The next thing I know there a collection of knives and other horrible metal devices last seen in the movie "Hostel" are for some reason laying right beside my leg. Soon thereafter blood is gushing from my leg like a fire hydrant. The doc just so happened to "forget" to tell me that he would be ripping out a piece of metal the size and shape of a fish hook that had previously been sealing my wound. As I howled in pain the doctor was unfazed, and his ceaseless ripping and pulling with strange painful devices lasted for another ten minutes of pure hell. After getting another slashing, the doctor then pushed and pulled my leg in ungodly directions until I was on the verge of throwing up.
So who is worse?
A. The taxi driver who drove me to hell, collected money he knew he didn't deserve, and made so many wrong turns that my knee was swollen by the time I made it to the hospital.
B. The unethical Chinese vixen (bitch) who knew exactly how dire my situation was, but still stole my rush-hour taxi without batting an eye-lash.
C. Or the doctor who gave me no inkling that today's appointment would be so incredibly painful that I actually screamed in pain. The embarrassment of coming out the door and having every single person in the hospital stare at me as if I was the exorcist was not the most pleasant feeling in the world.
From the Orient with no love,
Atkinson
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