passion...schmassion

day 10296: hypothetically… “what about jet li or maybe a porno…?”

“Baby, I have an idea… and it’s entirely up to you. But how do you feel about having dinner with my mom tonight?”

Scary. Scary. Um. Yeah. I’m ok with that. Phew.

You can’t blame me for trying. I was feeling guilty for not wanting to make the trek into suburbia for New Year’s Eve dinner. I only wanted to go to Chinatown, wander around buying candies and flowers and absorb my one dose of Chinese culture for the year. But then someone said that Chinatown was severely lacking in New Year’s decorations this year, and that the only place worth going was Pacific Mall…

Pacific Mall it was to be. Except that it’s even further into suburbia than the maternal one’s house and so I compromised to appease my guilt. Snacks and time with my mother, and then later in the night he’d pick me up when he got off work and we’d go to the mall.

(I think they’re warming up to each other…)

She made him a New Year’s package to put beside his bed – lucky red envelope, candies and special tangerines with the stems and leaves still attached. He gave her a hug and a “Hope you feel better!” and off we went, care packages in hand…

“I can’t believe we got the first spot!!! Right by the door!” he is positively crowing with excitement, “I MUST tell someone… maybe Candy… she’d think it’s cool…”

We wander the mall, walking from one closed store to the next… peering into windows and laughing at the yellow happy-face condom lamp in the “18 and over, ID will be checked” store.

“Damn, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to buy bras without my mother…” I NEED A TRANSLATOR. I finger a lacy one, and shake my head at the saleswoman when she tries to hand me a beige plastic-cup-looking one. I was thinking more along the lines of something red, silky and “hmmm… yummy…” reactionary.

“How do you usually buy them then?”

“I stay in the dressing room and try on whatever they throw at me.”

“I could critique them for you…” He smiles, pretends to leer at me and off we go in search of snacks, candies and the world’s worse bubble tea (note to self… never go to Bubble Tease at the top of the escalators EVER AGAIN!).

“I don’t like any of the flowers…” I’m disappointed by the lack of decorations, things to see and things to buy. Somehow I remember it being a lot more festive, glorious and happy. It looks like no one wanted to go through the hassle of trying this year. I had wanted it to be perfect and cool, something wonderful to share with he-who-is-openly-uncomfortable-because-he-is-a-token-white-guy-in-a-completely-oriental-mall.

“What is your favourite flower?” he asks. Pink roses… I can see where this is heading. I think I know what he’s planning… mmmm…

We wander around upstairs. We wander around downstairs; into the $5 dvd stores browsing selections of *hush* non-legit dvds. It’s hard to resist. It costs less than renting.

“I don’t know where to look.” I snicker. “In the other store, Debbie Does Da World is on the top shelf… in this store, it’s Co-Ed Consorts on the bottom. I drop a dime, bend down to pick it up and look up to see nothing but tits and teeth and ass…”

He hands me three dvds… we need one more for the 4 for $20 “bargain deal.” He scans the shelf, “What about Jet Li?” Turns to me and grins… “Or maybe a porno…”

I laugh, toss him Beauty and the Breast* and move on to the next aisle…

Kung hei fat choy… wishing you happiness and prosperity in the year of the Rooster… and all that jazz…

[*ed note: Beauty and the Breast was not a typo. Not was it porn. More like some idiotic Chinese-director thinking he’s oh-so-funny with his awesome, hilarious play on words… just because his movie is about breast-enlargement cream.]