I’m taking you down to Chinatown

Or, “What I Learned On My Summer Vacation”

At some point in your life you make such a monumental ass of yourself that you can’t escape the thought that perhaps you are a total idiot.  This summer, as I tried to navigate Beijing in my horribly flawed Mandarin, I felt this way more than once.  I went to China to teach English in the countryside, while simultaneously overlooking my own linguistic inadequacies (but I digress.)  Anyway, it’s at this moment, when you stop and realize what a fool you are, that you approach something called wisdom. It’s sort of like a hazing ritual for enlightenment. You must endure much embarrassment before you achieve enlightenment. Before you can know yourself you must first learn to laugh at yourself.

Except me. I have no embarrassing stories about me whatsoever.



  1. That seems like a dubious claim. I demand an embarrassing story.

    1. you’re in no position to make demands, sir! *wink wink* perhaps I will dredge up something suitable from the dungeon, someday. Or better yet, maybe I would be better off to just run out and live a NEW embarassing story!

  2. You have my support in the acquisition of new stories. I love adventure and pretty girls almost as much as I like writing and coffee.

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