I get ideas for blog posts all the time. Sadly, I always have them when I’m at a bar or on the toilet (which means I usually scribble some quick notes on a napkin or some toilet paper.) Unfortunately, I have a horrible memory so I can never fully recall what it was I had to say about “Derrida’s theory on Elmo” or “Brett Favre’s moustache.”
Right now, I’m still in China, a country where napkins and toilet paper seem to be in short supply. I’m also suffering from some weird jet lag insomnia and I think I’m on the verge of an Imodium overdose. Therefore, I’ve decided to just write everything down as soon as I think of it.
I guess we’ll call it Chaos Theory: The China Edition.
Contrary to my last post, it seems that the Peanut has noticed my absence. The other day I spoke to BossLady on the phone and she told me that whenever the two of them walk in the door, the Peanut runs around the apartment yelling “DADDY! DADDY! WHERE ARE YOU?” After failing to find me, she then turns to the BossLady and asks, "Where dadddy, mommy?"
I’d blame it on all the sulfurous Chinese air that makes me feel as if someone ate a pound of asparagus and peed on my eyeballs. However, since my paternal sappiness is already well-established, I’ll admit that hearing this brought a tear to my eye.
THINGS THAT I SHOULD HAVE PACKED IN MY SUITCASE
For someone who travels as much as I do, I am a horrifically bad packer. I’ve flown to weddings without tuxedo pants. I’ve had to wear white tube socks with a suit. And once, the lovely and beautiful BossLady had to make me cufflinks out of paper clips (MacGyver!) Now that I’m in the middle of China, I realize that bringing linen shirts when it’s below freezing outside probably wasn’t a good idea. Some other things I probably should have packed?
1. More than two pairs of underwear.
2. Dark socks (yes, I did it again.)
3. Running sneakers that don’t smell like ass.
4. Toilet paper
5. A book weighing less than 20 pounds
HE AIN’T HEAVY, HE’S MY BROTHER
The 20 lb. book in question is Martin Amis’ “The War Against Cliché,” his collection of essays and literary criticism. Despite its weight, the book is a surprisingly great read. Amis’ brilliant wit and sheer intelligence are employed in ways rarely evident in his fiction.
Do you ever sometimes wish you were friends with a celebrity so that you could just shake the shit out of them and smack them with a dose of reality? I have this wish all the time (“Aarrgh, Britney! What the fuck are you doing?”) Anyway, I really wish Martin Amis and I were best pals so that one night when we were both completely smashed, I would have the balls to tell him to give up fiction. If I were really drunk, I’d tell him to get those damn teeth fixed too.
Does anyone else have these imaginary celebrity friendships or am I the only one?
Aside from packing my suitcase better, it also probably would have been a good idea to update my ipod before leaving. Spending 15 straight hours on a plane listening only to Camera Obscura and Ghostface Killah is getting kind of weird. I don’t know whether I want to weep into my pillow or kill whitey!
On the other hand, big ups to me for downloading the first season of “Weeds” onto the ipod. Why didn’t anyone tell me how good this show is? BossLady and I don’t get Showtime but we've both always had a little thing for Mary-Louise Parker. In fact, when Billy Crudup dumped her while she was pregnant so he could date Claire Danes, BossLady was furious. Recently we watched “M.I. III” and whenever he came on screen, I could hear BossLady muttering “asshole” under her breath.
Besides, isn’t leaving Mary-Louise Parker for Claire Danes trading down? Kind of like breaking up with Brad Pitt and ending up with Vince Vaughn?
And Jen? I just read in the Herald Tribune that you might adopt a child from Africa? If WE were friends, I’d channel my mother and tell you---“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you? If Angelina Jolie jumped off the George Washington Bridge, would you?”
All I know is that if Paris Hilton adopts one next, I think I’m going to kill myself.
I just spoke to the BossLady and she told me that Peanut pooped in the potty for the very first time! And I missed it! Thankfully, BossLady knew how totally bummed out I would be about missing this important milestone in our daughter’s life so she immediately grabbed the camera and took photos of the poop for me!
Is it any wonder that I married this woman?
MY KINGDOM FOR SOME CARBONATED ASPARTAME!
At various points in my life, I’ve gone months without so much as a single alcoholic drink, a cigarette or any television. But never during the course of the past 25 years have I gone so much as two days without a Diet Coke. I’m now on Day 4 (or, as I keep saying to myself, DAY FUCKING 4!)
China, what is up with that? How can you pursue global hegemony when the only carbonated beverage here is warm Fanta in a dirty glass? And how is it even possible that one can still get TAB here? Wasn’t that abolished in the 70’s along with DDT and Agent Orange?
SHUT UP AND PASS THE ANUS!
In China, people often say that when a pig is killed, not a single part goes to waste. The skin is used for leather, the fat is used to make candles, the snout is ground up for medicinal purposes, and everything left over is eaten. Obviously, this saying is meant to convey the stout resourcefulness of the Chinese people. But whenever I mention this to the beautiful BossLady, she just laughs at me and says, “Oh yeah? What about the penis? Do they eat THAT?”
Last night during dinner, I tried this strange-looking dish of food that I didn’t quite recognize but tasted pretty damn good nonetheless. When I asked someone what I had just eaten, he replied, “pig's balls!”
Man, I gagged so hard that dried snout practically came out my nose! (N.B. he really meant to say "pork balls," which apparently have nothing to do with a pig’s testicles. On the flip side, my host told me that some people in China DO eat a pig’s balls!)
IF YOU THINK YOUR KID IS ONE IN A MILLION, THAT MEANS THERE ARE 1,400 JUST LIKE HER IN CHINA!
Being separated from the Peanut is tough enough. But being here in China makes things exponentially more painful. It’s not like I’m in Sweden and surrounded by little Aryan-looking babies who bear no resemblance to my daughter. Here, I see little Chinese kids who have the same dark hair and features as the Peanut.
Every time I see a little Chinese girl, I just want to pick her up, spin her around, and give her a wet willy.
Meanwhile, I'm completely annoying the crap out of everyone I meet in China. In fact, I’m starting to recognize a pattern. First, I ask people whether they’re married. Then, I ask if they have children. And then I sit back and wait patiently until they ask me whether I have a kid. ME? YES, I DO! THANKS FOR ASKING! DO YOU WANT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT HER? GRAB A CHAIR AND POUR SOME TEA!
Before they even know what hit them, I’m telling them all about the Peanut. Today, I even told a few people about Peanut pooping in the potty. The ironic thing? Most of them have no idea what the hell I'm babbling about. Story of my life, right?
Anyway, it's official. My gushing about my daughter is now annoying the crap out of people on TWO continents!
By the way...apologies to all of you who have sent me e-mails in the past week. I'm having major e-mail issues. I promise to reply when I return to civilization (especially MD reader Susan from AL who offered to send my favorite BBQ sauce. That stuff is like crack cocaine to me. More than once, BossLady has totally busted me drinking it right out of the jar.)
Also, I thought I'd either do another MetroDad Q & A or another mailbag edition so I'd have something to write on the 15-hour return flight home. So place your questions in the comments section below and feel free to ask me anything.
As always, the only limits are your own imagination! Shoot away!