It's just a walk in the park, Kazanski

Oh what a glorious Saturday it is today. I’m sure glad I spent it inside my office. There is this strange phenomena or tradition or what-have-you, that you can't have a normal work week prior to or returning back from a vacation here. I am gracious for the Chinese May labor holiday, which is 7 days off. What I’m not stoked about is working the Saturday before and the Sunday after the 7 days off. The holiday is really only 3 days of work missed. Because you make up one on each weekend. On paper it’s a great idea, in execution it is horrific. There is just something inherently wrong with working on Saturdays and Sundays, in an office. It is not like my teams work very hard on these days, either. It’s the day before a long holiday AND it’s friggin Saturday. Of the 8 members of my teams still in the office, at this instant I see 87.5% of them on MSN messenger right now. The other person’s screen is off because he went to bathroom, for the 27th time today. Some things that go on in this country are beyond my comprehension (regarding the holiday, not the people playing grab-ass today).

My friend Lily is about to leave for Grad School, I’m not sure if she got into Harvard, but she did get into NYU, Columbia and some top school in Paris that I can't pronounce and/or remember the name of to save the life of me. Today she was quoted as someone who “strives on deadlines”. I don’t really strive, I don’t think. I surely don’t strive for perfection. I’m more of a saunterer in those regards. A wanderer if you will. I’d like to think I “chase tornadoes” metaphorically speaking. I would much rather frolic through my menagerie of bad-assery (my newly found favorite phrase, replacing “in all seriousity”) than become a “perfectionist”. I could say I am intolerable of incompetence, which living in this country has pushed me ever-so-close to my boiling point, with my constant submersion in the bowels of some of the dumbest people on earth. Waitresses that bring a bottles of beer to the table, then ask if you want one opened. (No, I ordered the two bottles of Tsing Dao to be the centerpiece of our romantic dinner table, you fucking retard)
Or my Ayi (bless her heart, she is the sweetest thing) can you NOT figure out where things go? Jeans are hung, shorts go on the 3rd shelf, undershirts the 1st shelf and t-shirts and long sleeves on the 2nd. Why must you fold my jeans, hang my shorts (who fucking hangs basketball shorts?) and cram all of my shirts in the small space on the 1st shelf? And why on earth do you not allow me to keep a hand towel in the kitchen & the bathroom? I like the fucking hand towels there. I move them there EVERDAY after I finish rearranging (and refolding them, mind you) the clothes you misplace. Please stop moving them to the guest bathroom. No one uses that one!
My friend Walter Cash put out a nice list of movies you should see, if you haven’t. I will not mention anything about the list, other than it’s good. But, if I could make one addition to it, please see/rent/buy/steal/acquire The Dark Crystal. It is one of my favorite movies. You might need some “extra help” before you watch it, but do so anyways.

Reason #13 why the movie Top Gun is a homo-erotic action flick.
Wolfman: This gives me a hard on.
Chipper: Don't tease me.

If I ever tell any of my male friends, "I have a hard on" they should NEVER take it as me tempting or teasing them with it. No response to that statement is necessary. The only response deemed even remotely acceptable is "I know, those chicks are so fucking hot". End of story.