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A White Man’s Guide to Dating Asian Girls

“A White man seeks Asian woman not for her immense beauty or intellect, but for her tiny cooter.” – Confucius 1

Hey, white guys. You probably know by now that having an Asian girlfriend is a rite of passage for all white men. “Date an Asian chick” has become akin to “Go skydiving” or “Live in New York” in the veritable white guy bucket list.  Of course, dating an Asian girl is very different from dating your typical Nancy or Betty 2.  So, in order to snag yourself a little pre-op Mulan, I present to you a White Man’s Guide to Dating Asian Girls.

STEP ONE: Finding an Asian

Asian girls typically hang out at one of three places: the mall, the library, or Pinkberry. When you get there, look around: the best Asian girl to pick up will be the one wearing a hoodie and heels (there is always one).  When you approach her, ask for the time. As she takes out her phone to tell you, you should make a nice comment about her phone flair (Asian girls always have some bedazzled jank hanging off their phones, like a cartoon duck or a jade tiger). And with that, you’re in.  Asian girls will go on a date with anyone if she can tell a cutesy story about it later: “And then, after he saw my Keroppi keychain, he asked me out at Pinkberry! Pinkberry!”

STEP TWO: The First Date

It doesn’t matter where you take an Asian girl on a first date (as long as it isn’t Wendy’s 3). You can impress her by simply sticking to the following topics of conversation: food, fashion, and making fun of other Asians (“So, did your friends just stay in and do math problems all night? They are so bad!”).  If, by the end of the night, she giggles into her napkin/hand fan, you’ve got yourself a second date.  However, no matter what you do, don’t step on the yellow-fever land mine that is acknowledging the Asian fetish.  Yes, we all implicitly know what’s going on here–Why else did America go to war in two Asian countries4 last century?–But don’t say it out loud. Us girls all like to pretend that we’re your first Far East foray.

STEP THREE: The Relationship

If you get to the point now where you want to date an Asian girl (like… really date her), you better understand where she’s coming from. Given our immigrant roots, most Asian girls endure a latent insecurity about everything from our boobs to our patriotism (both things that are just slightly there).  We never quite think we’ve assimilated into American society… and sometimes, we’re right. So, as her white, Jewish (80% of the time), totally-secure-and-normal boyfriend, you better be prepared for when your girlfriend mistakes “Soup or salad” for “Super salad” (“Yes, I want the super salad! What is wrong with this Sizzler waiter?!”).  And since Asians have eyes like gravy boats, her crying jags are bound to extend late into the night.  Just FYI.

STEP FOUR: Locking it Down

If you’ve made it this far, then you know all the dirty secrets of dating an Asian girl. You know we hate animals.  You know we pretend to love drinking, even though we turn into full-blown red-faced injuns when we do. Oh yeah, and you know we are racists. Your saintly self just goes with it.  But how can you tell if she feels the same way? Well, you know you’re “in” if your girlfriend takes you home to meet her parents. In Asian cultures, meeting the parents is practically an engagement. Asians don’t let people meet their parents, ever.  (I’m pretty sure I told all my friends in high school that I was an orphan.) But once you’ve broken the seal, you better put a ring on it within 5-7 business days. If you don’t, then you risk alienating the parents. They’ll start asking questions. Getting involved. Calling you at work. Once you’ve met the parents, in Asian cultures, you are now part of the family. And they own you. So just man up and fucking 6 do it.

Lastly, you should know that in Chinese wedding traditions, the groom pays for the wedding. Therefore, my parents want me to marry a Chinese guy and my brother to marry a white girl. It’s just good fiscal policy.

FINAL THOUGHTS: A Bit of Encouragement

Yes, some of this sounds terrible.  But, having an Asian wife does have its perks. Even if you’re uglier than Pau Gasol, your half-Asian children will be adorable.  Plus, you’ll get to be the peacekeeper (and favorite parent) while your wife turns into an evil-witch Tiger Mom. Finally, if you’re ever attacked by a pie-wielding assailant, your Asian wife will be sure to leap out of her chair and protect you, even if you totally deserve it. Because even though we may be high-maintenance and needy, Asians are nothing if not loyal… Well, except for the 1/4 of us that was in Tiger Woods.


1. Confucius probably did not say this.

2. These names are so white that they went out of style years ago. Do you know anyone under 30 named Nancy or Betty? Neither do I.

3. Yes, someone took me on a first date to Wendy’s. I know what you’re wondering… Chicken nuggets and a baked potato.

4. Counting only the Korean War and the Vietnam War. I would’ve mentioned Japan had we not nuked the place.

5. My parents started learning English by watching Braves games on TBS, so I grew up loving the Braves tomahawk chop. I would do it everywhere… which unfortunately, out of context, looks very much like a Hitler salute. Assimilation fail.

6. I just started a new job and I’ve learned that “fucking” is the best adverb to use when trying to make an emphatic point. So there.



Filed under Life

The Boom and Busts

I’m worried.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been stuck in a rut.  I haven’t been able to get much writing done.  I’ve been hot-and-cold, trying to balance a few spurts of energy with an overwhelming desire to lounge around my apartment like a lazy zoo animal (one might call me a bipolar bear).  Last night, I built a pillow fortress so that I could Lay Like an Egyptian while playing Sporcle in bed.  It was really quite sad.

I’ve tried to get out of this rut.  I started an exercise routine (it’s on the Wii, but it still counts).  I took a cross-country trip home to Boston.  I even started reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which went against my “act coolly indifferent about the new ‘it’ book and pledge never to read it until it reaches the bargain bin at Borders” mantra.  But even with all these attempts to jolt myself out of inaction, I still feel like a booted car.

Recently, I’ve been thinking… what if it’s not just a rut?  Perhaps I’m a Boom and Bust, like Lindsay Lohan, Tiger Woods, or any young, attractive person who becomes heinously ugly as time passes by.  Once full of potential, with bright, rosy futures…the B&B is now the quintissential example of a person who peaked too soon.  So, am I one of them?  Am I on the way down, too?  If I am, indeed, Busting, then (1) can I make a comeback like Kobe post-rape or Hugh Grant post-prostitute?  Or am I just going to (2) flatline into oblivion, like Ryan Leaf and Jonathan Taylor Thomas??  And is this rut really the beginning of the end?  Am I going to just get worse and worse and worse until my head explodes into complete and utter failure?


No.  I’m not JaMarcus Russell.  Though I may be eating ice cream breakfast sandwiches today, soon enough, I’ll recover from this little rut. I’ll get my head back in the game.  Because I work too hard.  I want it too much.  I can’t be a Bust.

(Phew.  Thanks for the inner pep talk, me.)

…Plus, I don’t even think you can Bust without a Boom, right?


Filed under Life

Old Tiger May Have Been “Boring,” But At Least He Doesn’t Have The Clap

Dammit, Tiger Woods.  Forget about your wife for a second (I’m guessing that won’t be hard) — How could you do this to us, your fans?  Just last week, every person in America was a fan of Tiger Woods.  You were an American icon.  You broke barriers in the stuffy white world of professional golf.  You had the perfect life, with your beautiful family and bazillion dollars.  Compared to other “role models” like Kobe the infidel or Michael the dog  slayer, we thought you were the model athlete.  We wore Nike sweater vests and bought Buicks because of you.  We never expected that you would commit “transgressions” that are typically made by our country’s fine politicians, Hollywood celebrities, and prominent businessmen.  You were better than that.  We trusted you.  And you Madoff’ed us. 

Three mistresses?  Seriously?  We never thought that you were such a fiend behind that surly glare.  Even Kobe could only claim to have one (public) mistress.  You had three, plus a wife.  Apparently you really can drive it long consistently.  Seems like you live up to your name, Tiger.  

But honestly, if you were going to cheat, couldn’t you have picked some classier ladies to cheat with?  You’d think that Tiger Woods would prefer discreet politicians’ wives to waitresses and Vegas club promoters.  Then again, I guess that was Old Tiger, with his quiet, “boring” life.  New Tiger?  Well, he’ll look chlamydia in the eye and buy it dinner.  

In this world of New Tiger, I just don’t know who to trust anymore.  Does the Pope sit around the Vatican and stuff dollar bills into the bustieres of skanky nuns?  Does Barack Obama do lines of coke off Sasha and Malia’s dollhouse toilet?  Does Big Bird try and lure kids back to his nest for private ABC lessons?  

What’s good and what’s evil?  

I really don’t know.  Because on the same day that Tiger Woods announces that he’s a sleazy d-bag, humanitarian Michael Vick lectures to kids about the horrors of dog fighting.  

This is one cruel, cruel opposite-day joke.    

Tiger Woods One Liners (forwarded from a co-worker)  

What’s the difference between a car and a golf ball?  Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards.  

 What was Elin doing out at 2:30 in the morning?  Clubbing.  

 Why did Tiger crash into a tree AND a fire hydrant?  He couldn’t decide between a wood and an iron.  

 Tiger drives very well on the fairway but doesn’t fare very well on the driveway. 

 If the only person that can beat Tiger is a blonde with big breasts, it’s time for Phil Mickelson to bleach his hair.  

 What is the penalty for getting it in the wrong hole? Ask Tiger, he knows.  

 Nike wants to drop their endorsement due to accuracy problems.  Apparently, Tiger’s spraying his balls everywhere.  

 What will the headline be if they prove it is domestic violence? TIGER’S WIFE MAKES THE CUT.  

 Given Tiger’s racial heritage, can we call this a Black Thai affair?  

 Tiger just changed his nickname but still kept it in the cat family: Cheetah.  

 Elin Woods has a twin sister named Josephine. Know how to tell them apart?  Elin is the one holding the bent 5 iron.  

 Tiger Woods’ shirt is all red — Problem is, there’s no tournament, and his veins are a pint low.  

 What does Tiger have in common with a baby seal? They’ve both been clubbed by a Norwegian.  

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Tiger Woods: Were You A) Cheating on Your Wife, or B) Shopping for Early Bird Deals?

This past weekend, Tiger Woods made headlines when he got into an accident outside his home at 2:30 AM Friday morning.  In the aftermath, Tiger’s reticence has fueled rumors ranging from infidelity (meeting up with his alleged mistress for Thanksgiving dessert?) to drug use (after all, who crashes their car in their own driveway sober?).  Some are even speculating that the injuries he sustained were from his wife, taking out her scorned wife vengeance on him with a golf club.

Personally, I think everyone is reading too much into this.  From my point of view, Tiger was simply doing what everyone else was doing in the wee hours post-Thanksgiving: heading out to JC Penney’s early bird Black Friday sale.  Those sales started at 3 AM, so Tiger must have been getting a jump start on Christmas shopping.  And he simply got distracted when driving-while-coupon-cutting.

That’s it.  End of story.  There were no mistresses, no crystal meth, no acts of Chris Brown.  It’s always great to follow up Thanksgiving binge-eating with some celebrity intrigue, but I’m afraid that nothing can tarnish the squeaky clean image of Tiger Woods.

Then again… if Tiger was looking for some early bird deals on “forgive me” diamond rings (remember Kobe’s $4 million “I’m sorry”), that would do it.

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