The Devil Wears Chanel (Fiction)

Benny is a tough cookie and everyone knows it. He’s six feet tall with fifteen percent body fat and an impressive amount of solid muscles. He works as an exterminator. He likes the fact that he has the authority over life and death. But ironically, his livelihood depends on the survival and resilience of those squish creature that he kills on a daily basis.

The privilege of entering strangers’ homes had opened Benny’s eyes to the hidden fascinations of humanity. Most of the time, working at an apartment building felt like taking a rollercoaster ride between heaven and hell. Some units were beautiful and lofty like the Garden of Eden and some others were dirty and chaotic like a satanic bloodbath. FYI, twenty percent of the population are hoarders.

This would be another one of those days --- at least that was what Benny thought.

Benny went up to the fourteenth floor of this apartment building. He saw a beautiful brunette walking out of the end unit. She was wearing a red dress. It was so tight that Benny could vaguely see the outline of her belly button ring. She was curvy and sexy reminding him of his celebrity crush Kim Kardashian. Benny could smell the woman from where he was. Instantly, he was intoxicated by the sweet aroma of her perfume. As the woman was approaching Benny, he became really nervous. His heart started to drum and his face began to burn. Benny could not put a label on his feeling. He refused to believe that he would fall in love this easily and quickly. Benny wanted to say hi, but the woman was texting on her phone. She did not even lift up her head to acknowledge his existence. Benny’s heart sank as he saw her disappear into the elevator. Originally Benny was going to start off with the first unit on this floor, but instead he decided to go to that woman’s unit first. He was thrilled.

After Benny opened the door with his master key, he took a little step back. Two pillars of cardboard boxes were stacked on the left and right side of the entrance. There was a narrow passageway leading into the unit. An eerie odor blew toward Benny that made him reach for his gas mask. This was not how he had imagined. “Hello! Anybody’s home?” Benny asked a few times and was convinced that no one was home. He took out his work order and found that a bed bug treatment and a roach treatment were requested for this unit. He tightened his mask, put on his gloves and took his tank of pesticide with him. His little buggy was too big to go through the narrow tunnel, thus, he left it outside.

After squeezing through that little passageway, Benny found himself in the midst of an “Amazon jungle”. His jaw dropped. There was stuff everywhere! The entire floor was covered by shirts, dresses, bras, dirty laundry, food containers, leftovers, toys and things that were hard to tell what they actually were. It seemed like an F5 tornado had just blown through this place. With all the crumbs and flakes of food on the floor, are you sure you are not intentionally feeding the roaches? From experience, no amount of treatment would be effective on units like this.

Benny picked up a pair of pants on the floor to clear himself a path. Nah! Why bother? He put the pants back down and stepped on them as he explored further into the living room. He was shocked to find an oasis in the middle of this desolated land. There was a beautiful vanity right beside the window. All kinds of makeup and hair products were sitting elegantly on the table. The most eye catching item was a fur coat. It was lying on the chair like a Persian cat. Benny glanced at the label, “Sha-nelle.” Benny felt proud that he knew the proper pronunciation.

Curiosity drove Benny to the bedroom. As he entered this room, his eyes popped out of their sockets. There was more stuff piling up here. A mattress was sagging in the middle of the room. An altar was set up in one of the corners. A green-faced idol with seven arms was positioned at the centre and five plates of rotten fruits and moldy bread were placed in front of the idol. Benny suddenly felt a chill penetrating his body. He prayed the Lord’s prayer, drew a cross before mouthing his most sincere Amen.

Benny had enough. Just when he was about to leave, he saw two rats coming out from behind the altar. Benny locked eyes with these plague-infested animals. Over the years, Benny had seen cockroaches pouring out of an open cabinet like bees zooming out of a hive; he had dethroned dozens of queens while destroying dozens of wasp's nests; he had dealt with people of all kinds of icky and creepy personalities. Therefore, no one would believe that Benny the exterminator had a phobia of rats. After years of practice, he no longer had problems with picking up dead rats. But the live and jumpy ones would still scare the bejesus out of him. “Ahhhhh!” Benny screamed like a “Belieber”. The two rats fully came out of their hiding. Benny quickly turned around and wanted to run for his life. Yet his legs had a slower reaction time compared to his upper body. They intertwined and locked into a knot. Benny fell face first onto the ground. He didn’t just go down by himself. Along the way, he knocked down a lamp stand. All of the sudden, everything around him began to collapse like dominoes. Kenny’s blood pressure jumped higher and higher as he heard things break and shatter one after another. The world paused for five seconds before all kinds of organisms emerged out of the darkness: rats, roaches, spiders and who-knows-what. Benny wanted to die right there, right now. Before he could stand up, his hand touched a bony object buried under a blanket. As he uncovered the blanket, he already had a good guess of what it was --- a skull. After another top-of-the-lung scream, he realized that the skull was only a Halloween decoration.

Benny stumbled out of the room, stormed out of the unit not caring how many more items he broke along the way. He was panting like a dog. It was definitely a soul-crashing humbling experience. Just when he thought that everything was over, he realized that his buggy had been stolen. It dawned on him that Khloe had just become his favorite Kardashian. 

Chow-Ciao!

After my dog turned 12, we noticed a lot of signs of aging. His energy level was low, his eyes were becoming hazy and his black fur was turning gray. My heart was aching to see him like that. I did a serious googling on if dogs would go to heaven. I also searched the internet for solutions and found out that changing a dog's diet would boost up their immune system. Hence, I had decided to give my dog nothing but fresh food. We used to give him what we eat along with his dog chow, but now it would be cooking for him, that's a whole new level of doggie love. A bit extreme but there is nothing ashamed of being a "dog lady".

I made a long list of food that dogs could eat and stick it on the fridge. When going for grocery shopping, things on that list would also be what we as human eat for the following week. I also found out that dog should eat things that resemble what their ancestors would eat in the wild; therefore organs and bones are essentials as well. We don't eat a lot of organs (as Chinese), but my mom started to look for recipes of making a liver dish. I was surprised when eating it for the first time in a long time, my mom said, "they came in a large package, Heihei could not eat everything, hence we are eating the rest." My mom would also buy pork bones and slow cook them for hours. Toward the end, the bones were as soft as calcium pills. Some of the pieces were too big for him to swallow, hence I would chew them on my dog's behalf. Again, nothing to be ashamed of.

Several months after, you would not believe the difference. His fur became black again and his eyes started to shine. He looked like a puppy. He even started to look for toys to play. He'd hop onto my fluffy sleeper and drag it off my foot. I was completely defenseless with my gimpy feet. After kidnapping the left one, he'd come right back to grab the right one. He also began to mind other people's business again. Whenever someone walked across our door, he would make his presence heard not knowing that he's an illegal resident in this pet-free building.The ultimate sign of his rejuvenation was being bitchy again.When his vet attempted to check his teeth during his annual checkup, Heihei bit him really really hard and would not let go of his hand. NOT sure if bad dogs could go to heaven. To my dog's defense, unlike our first vet, this new vet is not a dog whisper. "Not bad for a dog turning 13, all are well, what are you feeding him?"

When I saw my friend and told him about this, I was quite emotional, "I should have fed my dog nothing but fresh food all his life. Why would they tell us that we could not give dogs anything but dog chow? Is it all about the money?" He's one of the best people I have met. He always sees the best in every person. He replied, "I think it's because a lot of people have a very unhealthy diet. If they feed their dog with whatever that they eat, they might give their dog pizza, ice-cream and other junks. " Makes sense. 

Black and White

The other day, as I was randomly flipping through the channels, I somehow landed on YTV. KungFu Panda was just about to play. As it turned out, I sagged in my couch and watched 3 hours of KungFu Panda 1 and 2, and totally enjoyed it. In light of Kungfu Panda 3 coming to the big screen. Here is a post about the real Panda and its incredible charm and political power.

Long ago, China used to gift Panda bears to other countries as a way of extending olive branch. The first pair of Panda was given to the former Soviet Union in 1957. I found the story very interesting.


In May of 1957, former military officer Voroshilov of Soviet Union paid a visit to China. At the time, Panda bears were no biggies. Everyone was struggling with the most essential things in life, no one had the luxury of idolizing after a panda. The Beijing Zoo was the only zoo in China that housed panda bears. There were three of them. When Voroshilov visited the zoo, the pandas were just doing their things, being cute and "staying true to who they are". Voroshilov was totally amused. He had never seen a panda before. He was completely blown away by such adorable creature. Without sugar coating it, Voroshilov asked:"how about give us a pair?" Prime Minister Zhou agreed right away.

By 1959, the first pair of panda bears immigrated to Soviet Union, a male named PingPing, a female named QiQi. The Russians had no experience raising panda bears. Years gone by, the panda couple was still childless. They didn't know that a female panda ovulates only 4 days per year. It's almost impossible to conceive the pandas without intervention. Therefore, they guessed that the two pandas must be of the same sex. They thought QiQi was a male as well. Therefore, they asked to send QiQi back and in exchange for AnAn, one of the panda bears Voroshilov saw in Beijing Zoo. Speaking about impossibility, AnAn was ironically a male.

An Austrian business man saw this as an opportunity. He approached the Chinese government and asked if he could bring QiQi to his country. He was willing to pay. The Chinese said they didn't want money.  The Austrian man came up with another proposal, what about trading? They were willing to give 7 beasts in exchange for 1 beauty --- 3 giraffes, 2 rhinos, 1 zebra and 1 hippo for a panda bear. That seemed fair. After QiQi went to Austria, she became a star. She went on a national tour and even traveled to Germany. Around 1963, the Austrian man wanted to sell QiQi to the Americans for $10,000. The American government opposed the idea. Technically, Panda was a "Communist", ain't no welcome during the Cold War.

The British heard about this, they wanted QiQi and they paid $12,000. The first panda in England brought a lot of buzz. Everyone loved her. However, as QiQi grew older, she became increasingly irritable during  mating season, to a point where she was violent toward the zoo keepers. The British wanted to reach out for help, but at the time they had no diplomatic relationship with China during the Cold War. The only other countries that had panda were the North Koreans and the Russians. By that time PingPing had already passed away, only AnAn was still alive and well. It took about 1 and half years to reach an agreement to bring the two pandas together. In 1966, QiQi was sent to Moscow to live with AnAn. Unfortunately, the two had no chemistry whatsoever. They were fighting and biting each other all the time. After nine months, it didn't seem like a baby would ever come out of them, like ever. As a result, QiQi got sent back to Britain. Because of QiQi's fame and affiliation with that many countries. Her image was used as the logo for World Wildlife Fund

logo of World Wildlife Fund

When Richard Nixon paid a visit to China in 1972, Prime Minister Zhou offered a pack of cigarette to  Pat Nixon. She declined politely:" I am afraid that I don't smoke". Zhou said:" you see the two pandas on the cover? I am giving you a pair of pandas." "OMG!"Pat Nixon had only seen drawings of pandas, she had never seen live ones before. That was an ice-breaker for the two countries.

Between 1957 to 1982, China gave 23 pandas in total to countries like England, France, Germany, Japan, Spain, America, Mexico, and North Korea. Pandas became ambassadors that greatly enhanced diplomatic relationships.

In the 80s, the Chinese government realized it wasn't a wise idea to just give our national treasure away. Plus the fact that money was desperately needed to preserve and nurture these animals. Therefore, they began to lease pandas. In the beginning, it'd cost $100,000 to rent a panda bear. And today, the cost to rent a pair of pandas is $1 million dollars. Each year, pandas makes $100 millions in total, you might think it's a lot, but it's only about 1 percent of what Micky Mouse makes. China lacks the inspiration and creativity to expand Panda's franchise. Funny enough, it's the Americans who are doing that on the Panda's behalf --- Kung Fu Panda. I will probably pay to see it this time.

i. . . i. . . i kinda have it

the cutest pineapple... like ever!

In August, Samsung sponsored a Para Pan Am outing. At one point, my colleague dropped her brand new IPhone on the floor, she picked it up brokenheartedly and dusted it with tender mercy. The Samsung manager commented:" not a big deal, it's just an iPhone." Then he whispered sheepishly:" half of our employees use iPhone."

Since my last post on this topic, a lot has happened. I got an iPhone 4s in 2013. After tasting its sweet Apple juice, I immediately bought an iPad mini. We became as one. Due to my Scrabble addiction, mini-me has gone to e-heaven and recently my iPhone has ran out of storage. Every time I want to take a new picture I have to delete stuff from my gallery. Now, other than pictures of my dog, a few extreme selfies and the cutest pineapple I found in Dole's plantation, I basically have no other types of picture in my phone. I need a new one.

But what really prompted me to upgrade my phone was an incident happened two weeks ago. It was a karaoke contest on the night of the Moon's festival. I confess, lately I have been starving for attention. Anyway, we were there in the afternoon for rehearsal. When it was time to eat before the show began, most people pulled out their phone and started to look really busy. By the way, I could never be on my phone for more than 15 mins without running out of stuff to do. Were people intentionally wanting to avoid interaction with their fellow contestants? Good idea, I was inspired to pull out mine, but all of the sudden, I felt ashamed of my phone. Everyone was on iPhone 6. Surprisingly, I was feeling confident showing up with a mobility device, but my communication device made me insecure because it was outsmarted by its grandchildren. I secretly turned my phone to silence, the worst thing that could happen is if Granny begins to nag. Then, I turned to a contestant who is a middle age woman, I began a half-hearted conversation with her before I bored the hell out of her and she pulled out her iPhone6. I retrieved to eating for the rest of the break. The contest was taking place at a vegetarian restaurant, I have decided to never becoming a vegetarian.

When it was my turn to sing, I needed to plug my phone into the stereo system. I took it out of its robotic cover and it actually looked like an iPhone 5. So that went well. Anyway, like the rest of the people who were short of the podium, I went home with a box of mooncake --- vegetarian mooncake.

Today is the last day I am using my iPhone 4s. I am typing this post with it to commemorate this historical day. Now that iPhone 6s is finally finally out, I am finally finally getting an iPhone 5. #refuse2grumble

The Lioness in Lamb’s Clothing

If I could use an animal to describe who I am, I’d say “a lamb” --- soft spoken, slow to anger, blah blah blah. . . But I am totally aware of the fact that there is another personality lurking behind that supposed gentleness. The claws had come out a couple times in the past and many times they took place in a public washroom. Yes, I think you know where this is going. It was when people abuse the only accessible stall in a half-empty washroom. 

It all started when I was still a student in University. The accessible stalls in my school were particularly luxurious with its own sink and vanity. One fateful afternoon, I was quietly waiting for the stall to free up. According to my observation under the door, the occupant was someone who managed to walk comfortably in high heels. I was losing patience when my class had already started. Though I was mad as hell, the little lamb was silent under the knife of the slaughter. Then, another girl came out of her stall and noticed the situation. “Is someone in there?” She asked. “Yes.” She knocked the door with fierce passion: “Excuse me, someone needs to use this.” Within 10 seconds, the door was open. The person came out, she said “sorry”, but not to me, to the other girl. Though I really appreciated the help, I decided that I would never again let another person stand up for me. I have a voice of my own and sometimes I have to roar. 

I became increasingly confident and unapologetic when confronting people in similar situations.  The most memorable encounter took place when I was watching Les Miserable in the Princess of Wales Theater. During intermission, I went to the ground level where the designated accessible washroom was located. This washroom had a wheelchair sign on the door. There was absolutely no excuse. As soon as I exited the elevator, I saw a nicely-dressed lady left her line and walked toward “my washroom”. I gave myself some gas and attempted to reach it before she did. Too late, she shut the door right before my face. Everyone (all women) lining up outside of the washroom were staring at me. They were expecting a scene. All of the sudden, waiting in line with a full bladder became entertaining. On the other hand, while waiting in my line, I was thinking hard about various ways of making her the most miserable character of the play. Finally, she came out, there was this “uh-oh” expression on her face. “Sorry.” She said it sheepishly. To be fair, she meant it. I said nothing but slammed the door really, really hard in a theatrical style. So much drama, it was sassy and classy at the same time. . . 

Two weeks ago, I had a conversation with my girlfriend. She told me about her recent controversy over an accessible stall. She said that this lady came from behind and got into the accessible stall right in front of her eyes, as if she was completely transparent. “WHAT!!” Immediately, I had an image of this lousy piece of work --- high maintenance, lots of makeup, repelling amount of perfume . . . “How does she look like?” I wanted to confirm. “She is middle-age, South-Asian, probably new to the country.” It shattered my expectation. For some reason, I found myself less mad. It got me thinking, could it be possible that some people had no idea what or whom an accessible stall is actually for? Thinking back, prior to my injury, did I ever abuse an accessible stall? I used to be very ignorant about people living with disabilities and I didn’t know how much of a deal those extra spaces meant for someone who uses a wheelchair. Also, judging by the fact that I was an apathetic little bitch toward the disability community, I would say, I probably abused and misused the accessible stall without even remembering it. I was just lucky that I didn’t bump into a grudge-faced lioness waiting to tear up my day.  

Yesterday at the gym, while taking off my contacts, a woman was about to get into the accessible stall. I said: “Oh, can I use. . . I need to use it soon.” She didn’t get it right at that instant, but 3 seconds later: “Ohhh, yes, of course.” She gladly went to the stall next to it. I was more positive that most people did not intentionally want to misuse an accessible stall. Perhaps a gentle reminder of what an accessible stall is for would be equally educational and memorable.  Perhaps a lioness could settle with eating hays and grass because she’s a little lamb at heart.

Valentine's Day 2013 (Fiction)

Jessie had a shallow sleep. This is going to be a long and dreadful day. Thursday is like a Monday to her. She doesn’t get off work until 8pm when it’s dark and cold outside. Today in particular, is more like Friday the 13^th. 

While drinking her morning smoothie, Jessie’s mom nudged her with sensitivity. Today is the only legitimate day of the year her parents are allowed to release their curiosity. . . and concern. The fact is, she has not been updating them on anything juicy for a long while. 

Jessie snapped:”don’t ask. Cousin Adam is 30 years old. He is still single.”

“And you wonder why he is the only one who still writes to you regularly.” That’s right, Adam is all nuts about recycling and protecting the environment. What is my excuse?

“Besides, you are almost 30, too.”

“What?! I am turning 28 this year.” Jessie almost choked on a chunk of banana that escaped between those killer blades.  

“Life began at conception.” 

“That’s madness. You are never that serious about Christianity!”

“Look mom. It’s not that I don’t want to. That’s all I can tell you at this point.” Jessie quickly stood up from the table and almost collided with her dad’s overly-stretched ear.

“Okay, I will start paying rent if I am still living with you guys when I turn 30.”

Jessie works at a local hospital as a librarian. As she walked into the hospital, she realized that a lot of her colleagues were wearing either pink or red, the same flock of people who dress up on Halloween.  Then, she was shocked to discover that she was wearing purple today! She couldn’t remember if this was a conscious choice. Jessie did a habitual motion to push her glasses upward. She suddenly realized she was wearing contacts today! What happened this morning was a blur after her mother’s interrogation at the breakfast table. There is only one person in this world that can make me willfully stick my finger into my eyeballs. Could this be a sign? 

Jessie frantically checked on her phone for any missed calls or unread messages. There was none, she already knew it. She went to Inbox, Junk, Spam and Trash for new emails. There was none. Suddenly, there was a surge of fear. Did she miss any mails sent to her address? Over the years, the only communication she received was a card. A card that says:” Jessie, keep you in prayer!” It was sent by a stranger who knows Jessie for reasons logic could not explain. It was the only solid proof that she is not living in a delusion. Jessie tucked that card in between the pages of a palm-size bible. She never read her scriptures from that bible; she only uses it as an amulet. 

The thought of that card made Jessie believed in this day with a deeper conviction. It also brought back memories hidden in the most inaccessible place in her heart, the core. How and when did this occasion become so unbearable? 

“Hi, excuse me Jessie!”

As Jessie lifted up her head, she saw a therapist was standing right in front of her. She didn’t even see him came in.

“Hi, Ryan. How can I help you?”  

“I am just wondering if there is any donated equipment. I am looking for a commode chair for a patient who cannot afford to buy a new one."

“I don’t have anything at this point. I will let you know.”

“Thank you! Everything is alright?”

“Yeah. I will send you an email if anything comes up.” 

What was it that Ryan was asking for? A wheelchair, a shower bench or a raised toilet seat? It was obvious that Jessie was in distress. She should not have come to work today. Next year, I am going to take a sick day. I am sick. My heart is sick. 

Jessie jumped when her telephone rang. “Resource centre, how can I help you?”

“Joanna Sears.” It was a man’s voice.

“Joanna . . . “ For two seconds, she could not process this name. “Ohhhh!” She suddenly remembered Joanna is the Finance Director. The man giggled. 

That’s strange. People usually call the receptionist if they wish to be transferred. She did not think much before redirecting the call. Then she recognized the voice. Though she had not heard from him for ages, his voice was unique to her ears. There was a stroke of softness in his voice. Only when he was with her, he would reveal a feminine side of him. 

Could this be him? Was he checking to see if I was at work? Jessie’s world suddenly turned right side up.  She glanced at the door, imagining someone walking in with a single stem of red rose. One would be enough. She had never received flowers in her life. For the next 4 hours, she became hyperactive. She checked her phone and email every 10 minutes. She looked out her window with every chance she got. She decided to log in to her neglected Facebook account. Oh, how she hates Facebook with a passion. While staring at her blank relationship status, she wondered if Jesus could change it one day like how he changed water into wine. 

It was seven o’clock. The hospital became quiet. Jessie’s mood had plunged to a new low. Hope had abandoned her. She looked around and saw no body. Most patients had gone back to their room. She could cry now. She buried her face deep into her palms and let her demons took control. She had nothing but resentment toward God. She felt like He was purposely trialing her without giving her the power to overcome her obstacles. “Are you okay?” Jessie lifted up her head and saw Alice the social worker. I didn’t know she was working late today. She handed Jessie a heart-shaped lollipop. The diamond on her finger was blindingly bright. “Yeah, I am okay.” “Happy . . . Have a good night Jessie!” “Thank you Alice. Happy Valentine’s day!” 

It was 8pm, time to get off work. As Jessie was packing, she saw her amulet sitting peacefully inside her bag. I certainly did not remember I had it with me today. I usually put it under my pillow. She took out that mysterious card and read it one more time “He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge.” Suddenly, she felt like God had just spoken to her. This is the solid evidence that what she believes in is real.

 

It was snowing outside. Snow petals were like feathers swinging and dancing in the sky. Jessie stretched out her hands to receive her heavenly gift. Maybe God’s timing has not come yet. Maybe, it’s next year, or the year after, or after I turn 40. I could wait. 

As Jessie walked another 10 steps forward, a man emerged out of the darkness. Time paused. It was someone she had not seen for years, yet she recognized him right away as that beloved stranger. They both ran toward each other and met at the halfway point. “I am sorry, I’m late.” The man said in a voice as gentle as a lamb. Jessie silenced him by sealing his lips with hers. No explanation needed. She knew this would be her last Valentine’s Day, because from next year on they would be celebrating their Anniversary.

Sigh, silent night

December 21st, 2013, the spirit of the ancient Mayans came back to announce that we had miscalculated the year and misinterpreted the so-called doomsday prophecy. In fact, all along they were talking about the beginning of a disastrous Christmas holiday.

For some of you who are sitting in your cozy living room, commenting on the beauty of crystal branches and watching local news of other people's misery with a little psychotic bliss, you have no idea how it is like for me to sit in pitch darkness and being engulfed by a neighbourhood of light. For some bizarre reason, my building is still in the shadow of pre-historical era while power is being restored one after another in nearby buildings and houses. This is a rare occasion when I'd raise my fist toward the sky and ask the rhetorical "why me?" question. It's so hard to feel grateful. Even my prayer sounds more secular than ever:". . . please restore the power, I really need a shower. . ."

Fortunately, my building was running on a generator, there was warm coffee and cookies in the lobby. Many people went down to spend the long dreadful night. For the first time in a decade, our conversation with neighbours went beyond "morning" and "how are you". As people were mingling, tensions began to melt, bonds started to fuse. There was a newborn sense of being in a community. Who would have thought on the second day before Christmas, the most celebrated person was Thomas Edison, and what he had done for humanity.

In dim candle light, I saw that my fishes had stopped bullying one another. They were struggling in a tank of dead water as if they were about to drown. My dog, willed himself to be the flesh furnace, obediently being passed from one person to another.

It was a quiet night, minus the filter system, the lousy TV, the barking, the sound of the world. . . All I could hear was the mechanical clock ticking in orbit. It was romantic, impossible not to let your mind wonder and your heart glow. . .

Bon Voyage

This past October, we smashed our piggy bank to take a two-week vocation in Europe. We went to Paris and Rome, and sandwiched a Mediterranean cruise between these two cities.


While boarding my 8-hour flight, my mind was busy setting rules and expectations for this vacation. Number 1: I shall become no more than two shades darker --- tanning is not an Asian thing. Number 2: when confronting with endless food and dessert, I shall practice constrain. Lastly, maybe I will meet a “Jack” whom I will die with in a very possible maritime disaster. . . Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean, I began to think about things beyond skin deep. I was told that there are a lot of copper stone roads in Europe. Accessibility could be a concern in many ancient parts of these cities. What about the people there? Are they going to be kind? I reproached myself for over thinking, then drifted into a sleep.

As soon as we got out of the Paris airport, I realized I should have learned more French. “Bonjour” and “Merci” did not get us very far. We were like three Giant Pandas intruding the world of the Polar bears. It was impossible to communicate with the locals for direction. Fortunately, body language is the international language. With hand gestures and finger pointing, maybe a little bit of lucky guess, we managed to find all the places we wanted to go. I was mesmerized by the beauty and majesty of the city. The creative and delicate minds of the city planners were truly gifts from the Divine. I failed to portray my visual feast in words. However, I want to share with you my other interesting encounters.

The copper stone roads in Paris were not as bad as I thought. They were easier to manage than our Distillery District. After strolling around the city for hours, my wheelchair was still agile. “Slow down!” My parents constantly commanded me. They were pacing like turtle on their weary feet. We decided to conclude our day by taking a boat bus tour. We were lucky enough to buy tickets for the last boat of the day. It was scheduled to come in ten minutes. Then, we realized in order to reach the river bank we had to go down a steep stony stair, consisting of at least 20 steps. It was a downward spiral to hell. “Looks like the only way to do this is carrying you on my back.” As my Dad squatted down, I saw his legs were shaking. He had just climbed the Eiffel Tower thirty minutes ago! “Okay, hop on.” His voice betrayed his confidence. “Dad, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want another spinal cord injury.” From afar, we saw our boat bus was slowly approaching, adding horror and insult to our situation. “Do you need help?” We heard someone said that in Chinese! That simply line was poetry to my ears. We turned around and saw another “Giant Panda”. Boy, this man was indeed a giant. He was half times taller, bigger and younger than my Dad. His son and wife were standing behind him and looking up to him as a hero. The trio were also tourists. I made to the bottom of the stairs on this Good Samaritan’s back. We were forever grateful.

My time spent in Rome was even more memorable. Most of its subway stations were wheelchair friendly. The announcement for each stop was bilingual! English had never sounded so musical when I took it for granted in Canada. A visit to the Vatican reached the pinnacle of my spirituality. I was refreshed and humbled by that experience. However, what happened afterward was even more worth mentioning.

On our way back from the Vatican, we were lost. A few miscommunications led us even further from the nearest Metro. Asking for direction was an act of gambling. You would risk losing your pride when people brushed you off. It was my Mom’s turn to ask for direction, which was not a very good idea because she only speaks half English. Her strategy was to find a young person who might have learned some English in school. “So, what did he say?” I asked in hope and anticipation. “I DON’T KNOW! I can’t believe he cannot say ‘left’ and ‘right’ in English.” Being an empathetic person that I always am, I scolded my Mom:” We are in Italy! It’s their country! Name one sign on this street that you can pronounce. DO NOT say ‘pizza’!” Finally, it was my turn to give a shoot. I decided to go for the very next person that emerges into my visual field. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw a Priest walking towards me. I went up to him and said:” Do you speak English? We want to know how to go to the nearest Metro?” “Oh! We are going there too.” I realized he was with an entourage of 5 other people. One of the ladies said:” we were asking him the same thing earlier and he is leading us.” They were all English speakers with perfect North American accent! It turned out that the Priest actually came from Toronto. He was coming to Rome for a conference. More amazingly, we would be getting off at the same subway station! Apparently prayers prayed inside the Vatican City reached Heaven faster than anywhere else.

The 9 of us had a pleasant walk toward the Subway. But as we arrived at the nearest station, we found out that it's one of the old ones without an elevator. There was a long stair leading down to the platform. Hell opened up its bloody mouth again. The Priest said:” well, you think we can carry your wheelchair down?” I was embarrassed about the scene I would be creating. “Father, I don’t think this is God’s will.” The Priest looked around and said:” I know the next station has a lift. You can walk there. It's about few blocks away.” “Okay, we are going to do that.” The Priest pressed a kiss on his fingers, anointed my head with a hint of saliva, drew a cross before departing from us.

We walked about one block toward the direction the Priest had pointed. We could not see the Metro sign anywhere. All at once, our hearts became heavy. We were once lost, but now lost again. My Dad stopped to ask a young mother of two. Her older daughter was about 6 years old. Her younger child was in a stroller. She spoke no English at all. The only word she understood was the name of the subway station. From her lengthy explanation, we figured it would be a complicated and long journey. My Dad suggested we take taxi. Yet, we stood there for 5 minutes, unable to spot any empty cab. I felt homesick and miserable. Suddenly, that young mother approached us and signalled us to follow her. She wanted to walk us to the subway along with her two children! The little girl was definitely confused. She was old enough to reason with her mother. Although I was not able to understand what she said, the tone of her voice suggested that she was very upset. Her mom sounded equally fierce and determined. Occasionally, she would turn back and check to see if we were able to follow along. Twenty minutes later, after 4 blocks of walking, we saw the sign of the Metro station at the other side of the street. The mother pointed it to us. We could not thank her enough. “Glazie! Grazie! Ciao! Ciao!” All the Italian I knew proved to be truly useful. She nodded and turned around toward where we just came from. We were incredibly touched.

On my flight home, I reflected upon this vacation. Aside from the severe sun burn on my feet, the treacherous exercise agenda laying ahead, the blue and loneliness of my sail, I had an eye opening and ear popping adventure. I experienced humanity in different shades and spectra. I came back with a deeper love and appreciation for Canada. But most importantly, my wheelchair and I were still in one piece. That alone made me sing endless praises.

Glutton for Punishment

Yesterday, instead of heading home straight, I wanted to go to Costco for their crispy fries. It was an unnecessary trip, I was not even hungry. The intersection was congested with traffic. My mom and I drove past the green light. The car ahead of us made a sudden stop. My mom braked quickly and before we had time to feel a sense relief, we felt an impact and realized we got rear ended. Oh no, you did ain't.

My mom got off the car to face off the lady behind us. "Why did you stop all of the sudden?" My mom is not a sassy lady. The best she came up with was:" you catch me so close!" Not exactly grammatically correct, without a bitchy attitude, I knew she got no game. For the first time in years, I felt like I wanted to walk out of this car in order to provide some emotional and language support. Being confined in the passenger seat, I could only call my father for help.

"Dad, we got into a collision! Warden and Ellesmere! Come over and help!"
"WHAT! WHERE?"
"Warden and Ellesmere!"
"WHERE?!"
"Warden and Ellesmere! Near Costco and Home Depot"
"WHERE?"
God dammit, Who R U?
Later on he recalled, his legs felt weak, face turned green and lost a couple IQ points after hearing the word "collision "

Finally, he got our whereabouts, and was on his way. Meanwhile I was very concern about how my mom could pull through this situation. She had never got into a collision before. God help us...

Who knew salvation would come in the form of fire. The driver nearest to us in the opposite lane shouted:" yo yo yo, there is a fire!" The car behind us had its front lid cracked open and began burning. The lady ran away to the side walk. My mom ran back to our car and drove it forward. Oh no, this is going to be big. I am surprise, instinctively my first thought was, I am gonna be on TV and today is a bad hair day. Seeing the intensity of my mom's expression, I finally had a more logical thought:" the car might explode and I am probably going to die."

It was a huge fire, every car in the intersection was in the zone. The siren could be heard from miles away. No car dare to move in a situation where they desperately wanted to escape. The fire trucks arrived timely, the fire was put out in a snap. We all felt a sense a relief.

Finally, the traffic started to move. We stayed in the car while confronting the curiosity of every driver passing us. They were searching for the source of this grandeur traffic jam. I felt embarrassed when they gave us this "Chinese lady, I knew it" kinda gaze. Dammit, this might take forever. I cannot live like this. At the exact moment, two paramedics opened my door and asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital. "YES! Take me!" Hallelujah!

Tips from a Dedicated Pet Owner

The other day, a computer geek came to my home to fix my computer. The first thing he said as he walked into the door was: "this must be an old dog." How dare him saying my dog is old, saying anything bad about my dog is equally offensive as saying I am fat. Through my rosy glasses, everything about him is beautiful. I am one of those dog owners that is as crazy as a "cat lady". This year, Heihei is turning 10 years old, times by 7, he is a young senior. Objectively speaking, he is a fairly healthy dog. The only time he needed medical attention was when he had a pimple in a very sensitive area. I guess the only obvious sign of aging is his grey hair and his lack of interest toward a food-less stranger.

Yes, I think my dog is a healthy senior. I am writing this entry because I just had an epiphany these past few days. You see, we feed him human food all the way along. We also buy dog chow, but only if he still feels hungry. When I closely examined the dog chow, I saw no resemblance of its original ingredient. I went as far and as dedicated as tasting them. They had the texture and taste of a crunchy Cheetos went South. If you look at their expiration date, you will find that they can last for as long as two years. There must be tons of preservatives in them. It is akin to us eating canned or frozen food every day. Still not convincecd? Just look at the poop they make, the dryness, the gray color, the ashy texture, does that look like a healthy, juicy piece of shit to you?  I think the fact that they claim dogs should eat chows only is because it is a very profitable industry. On the other hand, when we feed our dog our food, we always give him lots of vegetable and fruit. I am now confirmed that dogs are omnivore?! He goes banana over cucumbers. However, my dog was raised this way since the beginning. Many dogs cannot digest fresh food because their body is used to chows.

Just a little thought that I think is interesting to put up here. Here is a recent shot of my Heihei. Tell me he ain't an old fart.

My Name is . . .

Notice I have a different profile name. Aside from maintaining my anonymity in cyber space, I want to choose a nickname that somehow remotely relates to my identity --- of course, it requires some explanation here. Growing up in my family, I have never been given a sweet nickname by my parents or grandparents. They are not romantic people. My parents call me Xia Xi all the way through. This name in Chinese sounds shamefully masculine. In history, a military leader who happens to be a sociopath has the exact name. He succumbed to drowning after none of his subordinates wanted to rescue him. Somehow, the only nickname I had was given by a bully in elementary school. I was referred to as a “pig” due to my chubbiness in Asian folk’s distorted standard. Back then, everyone’s nickname was associated with some kind of animal. Fat kids are pigs, skinny ones are monkeys, near-sighted are frogs, people who cheat by elongating their neck and peaking at their neighbor’s exam paper are giraffes. Ungraciously, Pig Xi was my name all the way from grade 1 to grade 6.  I used to be mad as hell when my classmates made fun of me. Now I am in a different country and culture, I feel like pigs are not that inferior, in a sense that this animal is not the meanest metaphor you could use to offend someone (surprisingly, people use “bitch” more). Furthermore, there are those little dwarf pigs that people adore as pet; in a TV commercial, a woman would use a container of bacon to propose to her boyfriend; Miss Piggy from the Muppets totally redeems me, and that’s why I use this name on my profile. 

i .... i .... i don't Have One

iPad 3 has already been designed and created. It contains 2560x1920 pixels, which is 5 to 6 times more refined than iPad 2.

At this point, where at the same time iPhone 5 is allegedly coming on its way, it's an embarrassment to say that i do not really have an i-product. Never touched an iTouch, touched iPhones a couple of times, even iPod seems distant to me. Oh yeah, i won a iPod Shuffle as a prize, but that's not really an "i", it's more like a "Mini-mee". Hmmm, i use iTune quite often, but it's a software installed in my PC by nature.

No, i have not bit that apple yet. There are a few reasons. First, i am a loyal PC (so lame, i know); second, i am not technologically advanced, a phone is a phone, texting is what i do maximally with it; third, i was waiting for "i" to finally settle down for good. When will these numbers reach their ceiling? It will not be eco-friendly to toss away an iPhone 1 for its latest generation, but can we still take bragging rights for being a savvy if "i" is a great-great-great grandpa? My ultimate plan is to wait passively for a hybridized creation. When a pad can be used as a phone, or when a phone becomes a bigger pad. That's when "i" and i will become as one.