We just wrapped up Week Two of Jukebox Stories: The Case of the Creamy Foam, and many people know by now that Asian-American audience members get special treatment. I will let them choose stories for me to perform, I will root for them to win prizes, and, like last night, I will stop THE ENTIRE SHOW to chat with them about Filipino culture. We APAs have to stick together! It's us against The Man!
White people, don't be afraid. Brandon's got your back. In fact, I think he makes fun of me when I'm looking the other way.
On another note, how is it that I've ended up at bars the last two evenings?
On Friday, Brandon and I stumbled into Raleigh's on Telegraph Avenue. The bouncer found it amazing and rather heartening that we were older than he was because he's used to being the Old Guy amongst rowdy Cal students, many of which happen to be smokin'—and that is why Brandon GOT CAUGHT LOOKING at a hot Asian chick. That made me happy because I'm the one who usually gets caught (not with hot Asian chicks, of course) because I have no sense of social propriety and will gawk without blinking and without shame. I've found that as I get older, my sense of shame gradually erodes, but I still haven't figured out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Last night, Patrick A. enticed me to join him and a friend of his downtown at Cafe Royale, and I just had to go because how often do you get to travel in neighborhoods where dwarf hookers roam the streets? (That is not a joke by the way. There is a dwarf hooker in that area!)
I asked the bartender for a Diet Cherry Coke, as I often do at bars, and he was like, "We don't have Cherry Coke."
I thought, "Bitch, pour some grenadine in a Diet Coke!" For Christ's sake, you would think I was asking for a blowjob. ("We don't have blowjobs.")
Anyway, I instructed him on how to make my Diet Cherry Coke, and the world was able to revolve again. I told you The Man is out to get me.