Saturday, high noon, sitting at home watching a 2008 Youtube video of Bill Maher describing McCain and Palin as Maverick & the MILF, eventually realizing I'm running late for lunch. An hour later, I meet my friend and together, we betray our WWII-era ancestors (I'm Chinese, he's Korean) by having lunch at a Japanese joint... sorry grandpa, their food is the shit!
Well actually, my friend is only half-Korean, and so is his girlfriend (it must be some sort of half-Korean conspiracy). Anyway, while slurping through our bowls of noodles like we're digging for gold, he tells me that she wants to conduct a sociological xxxperiment with him via a reverse date: reverse as in the gender roles, meaning she picks him up, chooses the restaurant, pays for everything, and uses her empty wallet at the end of the night to guilt trip him into giving up that ass. Any girlfriend who can cum up with such an idea is a keeper.
So after lunch, we pick her up. They live in the semi-suburban community of Gardena and Torrance, located in the South Bay of LA County. A few miles west are the beach towns of Redondo and Manhattan. While driving over there, we debate the slanted nature of my friend's eyes. His girlfriend agrees that they're chinky, but being the politically correct individual that I am, I remind her that he's Korean, not Chinese, so the proper term would be kinky, not chinky. This conversation also functions as more proof that he's a slut and won't put off putting out on their reverse date.
Before we torture him further, we arrive at the Redondo Pier and start walking around. Our first stop is what his girlfriend crowns as the most ghetto arcade you'll ever find in your life. An attribute for this claim might be the fact that the selection of fighting games is as geriatric as:
Mortal Kombat
Killer Instinct
Street Fighter 2
You have to be old enough to rent a car to remember these games. No wait, the Street Fighter 2 is the Championship Edition which actually bumps it up to 1992!!!! That's right: nothing but the latest and greatest at the Redondo Pier!!! In any case, we finish playing arcades and return outside, going from ghetto to gorgeous...
By this time, we've been discussing another field test of theirs in the works: the $30 date. His girlfriend also wants to find out if a couple can spend a cheap, fun evening together without feeling like teenagers who should be asking for more allowance. Maybe a good place to go on such a date is the next item on our agenda: happy hour at Max Karaoke in Torrance. This is the Asian style of karaoke in which you and your friends rent out a private room [necessary clarification for my white readers]. We stay there for two hrs and I end up paying just a little over $10 to sing my heart out to tracks such as:
Alphaville, Forever Young
Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
Guns n' Roses, Sweet Child O' Mine
Madonna, Crazy for You
To prove that I'm not stuck in the 80's (and that I have some street credibility), I also throw in Lil' Wayne's A Milli, though I fail to rap past the first verse because the lyrics turn out to be totally different from the ones I'm used to. Who the #@%& came up with a clean version of this track anyway?
After karaoke, we head to Manhattan Beach and have dinner at Mama D's, an Italian eatery that's been voted number one in the local papers for a decade. I can't keep my eyes off of this blond waitress. Somehow, we miss her and all the other waitresses and instead get served by a Mexican dude named Ramone. Just my luck, but he is nice and brings us some amazing dishes. I order bow tie pasta with chicken, mushroom, and spinach in a creamy dijon sauce (I think I just jizzed in my pants writing that). Indeed, the meal is orgasmic, and the half-Koreans decide to grab dessert across the street at Manhattan Beach Creamery.
We then proceed down the street to the pier. Small waves are crashing against the shore. Light is reflecting heavily off the water because it's a full moon. Everything is absolutely beautiful, and the half-Koreans are now thinking to themselves, "Why the fuck are we eating cold ass ice cream while walking near the beach at 9 o' clock on a January night?" So we don't stay long. They drive me back to my car and we say our goodbyes, making sure to keep in touch about their xxxperiment. While waiting for our table at dinner, I had them clarify that their reverse date and their $30 date will be two different events, and that neither will be for Valentine's. They have given me full permission to write on their findings, although a pitch to film the process and produce a pilot for a half-Korean reality dating show is firmly denied. Oh well, ya win some, ya lose some.
I hop in my car and drive about twenty minutes north to Culver City, home of Sony Pictures Studios. Across the street from the studio lot is a small establishment known as Backstage Bar & Grill where Mustache Girl is hosting a going-away party. I met her at a Halloween party in 2008.
She moved to LA seven years ago for school and work, but has not been able to find a job since graduating in July, so she's packing her bags and moving back home with her parents in Dallas.
What I say to her: "Times are tough right now for everyone. You tried your best and learned a lot about yourself because of it. Now you'll get to be closer to your family again and eventually move onto bigger and better things that were meant to be!"
What I actually think: "Damn I hope I last longer than you did in LA. I'd kill myself if I had to live with my parents again. But at least I'm not from Texas!"
Early on in the night, I contemplate how long I would really stay because I hardly know anyone there. Slowly but surely, other friends trickle in, including my co-worker and his girl for the evening who knows even less people than I do (namely, nobody except my co-worker). So she and I rely on each other to stand awkwardly quiet with. Apparently, she met my co-worker online and is hanging out with him for the first time.
What I say to her: "I love that guy. He's the most hard-working and honest person I know. He's such a nice guy and totally fun to be around all the time. That's awesome that you two are hanging out. Hope to see you guys together more!"
What I actually think: "If things don't work out between you two, baby you still got me!"
Around this time, I've finally grown the balls to add my name to the karaoke list. Yes this venue features karaoke, but it's the American style where I have to sing in front of everyone there, including strangers. It will be a first for me. I'm about number twenty on the sign-up sheet, so when the opening guitars from Sweet Child O' Mine (the song I picked) blasts through the speakers, I am surprised and happy that my turn is up so quickly. Of course, when I go up there, I see some dude with the mic already starting to sing. Apparently, it's actually his turn and he just switched songs at the last minute. The asshole has stolen my track. My world is shattered.
For the next half hour, I plan and plot on what to do. Friends suggest various alternatives, naming off Aerosmith and other Guns n' Roses songs I've never heard of, only confirming that I'm not as much as of an 80's geek as I claim to be. After much frustration, I default to New Order, specifically Bizarre Love Triangle. When I finally get on the mic, my co-worker and his date give support by coming up and dancing, but not without taking embarrassing pictures of me in action. My turn has come up just in time (shortly before the DJ shut down for the night). Last call is made. As the bar closes and everyone starts to leave, I send Mustache Girl off with big hugs and best wishes. By now, I'm worn out and my voice is mostly gone. But it has happened: I popped my own public karaoke cherry. I guess now I can call myself a true American.
0 comments:
Post a Comment