Friday, April 23, 2010
A couple of years ago I coined the term 'A5' as a non-derogatory means of referencing members of the Asian race. After giving a customer at the restaurant a check with an insulting description under the 'name' heading, I was forced to come up with craftier, less blatantly offensive terminology for identifying my customers in the event that I forgot to delete the name off the bill. Naming the tickets isn't really necessary, but it helps me locate them much faster in the computer. When you're slammed, it's a lot easier to find 'my big fat Greek asshole' over some random order number.
A5 is my favorite combination plate at Shabu Zen in Chinatown, and it's a lot less offensive than Mr. Miyagi or Singapore Whore. Plus, if I accidentally give an A5 the check with 'A5' on it and they question it, I can always say it refers to a seating plan.
Now that I've cleared that up, let's get to the heart of the pupu platter: is every white guy in America dating a fucking A5? What the fuck is up with the overwhelming number of round eye/A5 unions??? In my tenure as someone with a lifelong staring problem, I've observed the following:
There are three kinds of round eye/A5 couples.
1. him: plain, semi-lanky, dork. probably wearing an izod shirt. drives a Volkswagon with 'visualize grilled cheese' bumpersticker. really into video games with ill graphics like Madden NFL 11, and views his A5 girlfriend as a beacon of this technology.
her: plain, ass-less, geek. probably wearing a sweater set. could have floated over here on a lotus leaf. the basement of her boyfriend's parent's house where her boyfriend lives is bigger than her family's whole house in Korea. has Hello Kitty pen in purse.
2. him: slightly less plain. still trying to emulate the style of guys featured in an Abercrombie catalog from '97, but ends up looking more like Alex P. Keaton on a golf trip. didn't get much ass in college, but now bordering on sex addict because his new A5 girlfriend will do whatever he tells her to.
her: plain, ass-less, geek. wears leggings with oversized tunic sweater and flats. probably second gen Japanese. thinks she may have opinions, but isn't sure.
3. him: plain, either super metro or slightly grungy, possible dash of hipster. probably a musician or DJ or someone who gets a gig at a club and plays their ipod. thinks he's setting trends with his Bob Hope circa 1963 hat collection. sucks in the sack/has small penis.
her: plain, ass-less, overly made-up whore. looks like part of Gwen Stefani's harajuku harem. hair might be dyed blonde, but looks Puerto Rican orange. Vietnamese American, but undaunted by the fact she's at the bottom of the A5 food chain. laughs loudly at jokes she doesn't understand.
The guys that talk to their A5s like they're Polly Pocket dolls are the fucking worst. I see this shit all the time, like they're cooing at a Chihuahua. They usually order for them too, which drives me mental. I guess in any other stratosphere it would be considered good etiquette, but given the parties involved I immediately think submissive A5. I think for a lot of white guys, dating an A5 is the final step before coming out of the closet. And for the record, I don't give a shit who anyone wants to date, I just find this topic fascinating. Most of my stereotyping is reserved for the round eye who exclusively dates A5s. Nine out of ten times they're of the spineless [hetero] fag variety, so it's not as though they're dwindling any of my prospects. And to clarify, you don't have to be a spineless fag to like A5s, but if you're an A5, you're probably attracting some spineless fags. Just saying.
I want crab rangoons. Fuck.
Ten years ago, in a pre-blog era, I created freedomofpeach.com. I used the site to sound off on pressing issues of the day, such as the assholes who wear patchouli oil as perfume, the homosexual movement behind Teletubbies, and the prevalence of dickheads in trucker hats. While Facebook allows me to periodically vent, the character restrictions are a bitch. I've also become increasingly paranoid about my status updates now that my 'friends' have grown to include the young and impressionable, older conservatives, and former authority figures who probably don't want to be [or shouldn't be?] subjected to my 'cunt'-laden rants. Recently I've come to admire the simplicity of Twatter, but it's definitely not for the verbose. And in a mad rush to assert my whiteness, I abandoned Myspace, which has become the T-Mobile of social networking.
I have been left with no choice...