The Antisocial Socialist

I was talking to a friend who had recently returned from China. He and his girlfriend were of Chinese descent but had never actually been there—they'd gone there for work and didn't speak Mandarin, and they'd felt very odd and isolated. He was both grateful for the experience and saddened by how much an outsider he'd been.

He told me about the place that they were living, and suddenly I was whisked away in a flashback scene. I was having dinner with the couple on their backyard patio. It was a beautiful summer evening. We were drinking wine. I wanted to be there for real.

I noticed that they had beer bottles with bamboo shoots in them. "That's pretty," I remarked.

"Oh, they're for the pandas."

As if on cue, a huge, dirty panda came snuffling out of the bushes. It shambled over to where we were sitting and plucked the bamboo out of the beer bottle. Then it roared and I woke up.

I was not happy to be awakened from this dream. I mean, PANDA!

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EDIT: Hey Toronto people, does anyone want to go to the opera with me? $20 rush seats for Eugene Onegin. I've seen it before (in Moscow—I'm a bougie fuck) but it'd be cool to see the CoC do it too.

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EDIT II: Via Feministe, Postcards From Yo Momma is about the cutest thing ever. I just spent the last ten minutes or so laughing my ass off. (And now I can't send anything to it because my mom reads my blog.)

This is my favourite so far:

Look who finally learned the computer.
Look who finally learned the computer. Dad set me up email ACCOUNT AND ALSO SHOWED ME HOW TO GO ONLINE.I DON’T KNOW WHY EVERYTHING IS SUDDENLY WRITING BIG LIKE THIS, SO JUST IGNORE IT. SO HOW WAS THE CONCERT YOU WENT TO WITH FRIENDS/ CALL ME SOON. THIS WRITING IS WEIRD SORRY, LOVE MOM.