Physical Assault and My Bid For Presidency

(Forward: I realize that putting "Physical Assault" in the title might alarm some people into reading this entry. To ease your concern, I was not actually physically assaulted by anyone, but am poorly attempting use of a literary device some call a 'metaphor'. 

If this makes you lose interest in reading this post, I withdrawl my former statement, and currently sit alone, licking my gaping wounds from a recent near-death beating.)

Though I have currently been in China for about 2 months, it doesn't seem to stop the strange and new from occasionally slapping me across the face with surprise: just a friendly reminder that, yes, I'm still here. Because it's so easy to settle into a routine and forget why exactly I'm doing this, I find it refreshingly nice that China is constantly, and rather agressively, pushing the envelope.

A couple of days ago, I took cab home, during which ride I recited the normal conversation with the cab driver (where I was from, whether I liked China, asking the driver if he has any American friends, and whether he likes America). As we arrived at our destination, I handed him the correct fare through the grate. The driver turned around to take the money, smirking through the bars with penetrating eyes as he did so, and blew me a kiss with a little too much insinuation. 

SMACK! What could he possibly be thinking?!

In other news, I've been seeing numerous Asians exercising outside of the gym. If you're wondering how they stay so thin, this is the answer. When they jog, they don't have to change into running clothes, charge up their iPods with upbeat 90s pop hits, or allow for clean-up time afterwards. When Asians decide to go jogging, it's in the spur of the moment; it's spontaneous; it's beautiful. In the university complex where I live, I walked out the other day to witness a small group of college students jogging in unison. They were dressed in trendy clothes, hair superfluously done, costume jewelry clanking to the beat of their common tread. Two girls even wore heels, though, to be fair, they were less than two inches. 

Another afternoon, I was walking briskly down the street to work when I was surpassed by a rather long line of men jogging in perfect time. They too were dressed smartly; the leather jackets seemed a bit uncomfortable with the movement, but their stylish shoes tapped musically on the side walk, while their full blown, highlighted hair-dos bounced rather gracefully along with the cadence. As I watched in undisguised awe, the stylish troop made an abrupt turn into a hair salon. A Drill-Seargent-type, who must have been their manager, filed them through the door one by one with a sharp pat on the back, at which point they reported militantly to their stations, scissors in hand, alert and ready for customers.

BASH! This is the secret to fighting America's obesity problem! 

This weekend, I was told for, not the first, nor the second, but third time in China that I bore an uncanny resemblance to Hilary Clinton. 

WHAM! I know I'm ambitious, and have all the makings of the first female president of the United States, but in no way, shape, or form would I stay with a man after such an ordeal. 

(If it was Justin Timberlake, it would be a different story. Or Ben Bailey, charismatic host of Cash Cab. Either or.)

In another stinging instance, one male Chinese teacher invited an unsuspecting Andy to sit next to him by saying "Sit here, puppy!". 

ZING! Apparently, he thought that this was something that friends just call each other. After inquiring further into matters, we discovered that he had learned the phrase from the ever educational Prison Break character, Fernando Sucre. I'm not sure which is more amusing: the fact that he willingly called another man Puppy, or that a Chinese man was enthusiastically incorporating Hispanic slang (Puppy =  Papi) into his everyday vocabulary. 

You gotta love China... but in no way do I support Communism. God Bless Voting Rights, Gay Marriage, and The End of The War!

Vote AmyBridgit, 2012.