Learn Chinese por Tetras

“Excuse me, do you mind me asking what your ethnicity is?” A clean cut twenty something gentleman approaches me on the platform. “Yeah, I do mind, you sorry excuse of an ignorant mofo, you self-absorbed ethno-centric bitch tit.” I utter tersely, but the tremor of the words bypasses my vocal cords and instead heads directly towards the back part of my brain where images of his carnal destruction burned like a cross on fire. His friend, sensing a whiff of the sizzling cerebral, tries to make himself invisible behind the subway column. Good thing, too, since I am sure I am not making a point to hide my Ong-Bak stare. Knee to the face. Repeat. Irreversible.

Nevertheless, the gentleman continues, “Because I’d like you to ask you a question. Well, how should I ask this question. Okay, I’ll just put it to you plain, so I have a question about a Chinese girl I was seeing. Are you Chinese?”

What, do my slant eyed black hair look Chinese to you? Because based on alllooksame.com, my specific East Asian appearance, statistically, is most often concluded as being Korean by other AzNs, but you probably don’t know what that means. It’s just us Asians drawing on stereotypes about other Asians, but that’s probably what you’re looking for. So please, do continue, if I don’t grab your dime-sized balls and rip them out first.

“So what’s your question?” And you might want to hurry it up, as my teeth are losing their enamel.

“So I was wondering if you could explain something. Oh, are you from Taiwai, or Mainland China?”

“Mainland.”

“Oh, nevermind, that girl was from Taiwai, you couldn’t possibly understand. Thanks, anyhow.”

If he had said that, at least it would have been over, with him lying on the floor crying, “A curse on both your Chinese houses!”

Instead, his condescending ignorance keeps flapping its vocal opening, “So yeah, I was dating this girl, she’s Chinese, but once I kissed her, she got all weird on me. I don’t know, I really thought everything was going well. So…I was wondering if that reaction was, like, a cultural thing, or something personal.”

Just a minute, let me pull out my “How to Date a Stereotypical Chinese Female Handbook.” You know, you really ought to get one of these. EVERY Chinese guy has one, well, at least the straight ones, though, yeah, I know, we all look gay, but I digress. Ah, here, under “No ‘Rents, No Booty,” it says, “due to the lack of direct physical affection amongst most Chinese households, most Chinese females tend to be anxious and nervous when it comes to physical intimacy. So in order to win her heart, you must circumvent a direct approach, i.e. any attempt of kissing, groping, or so much as eye contact, and instead tend to her feelings via her parents. With the matron of the family, you should compliment her cooking, regardless your distaste for such exotic dishes as boiled pork stomachs. Further, do not, under any circumstance, make the mistake of adding soy sauce to a dish she consciously refers to as being “too bland.” With the father however, you must appear meek and humble, almost spineless. Yet whenever he has his back turned to you, you should administer Bruce Lee’s infamous Three-Inch Punch and take him down (for instructions on this other martial art forms that ALL East Asian people are born with, see Chapter 5: Don’t Kill Bill, Be Bill). This shall provide you an opportunity to save his life, since if the punch is administered correctly, it would only appear that he suddenly collapsed from over-eating. Once he owes his life to you, he will naturally give up his daughter to you as a reward. Then you can you’re free to have your way with her submissive guilt and her desire to please a hero amongst her clan. But if she still doesn’t respond to your advances, THEN IT’S BECAUSE SHE HATES YOUR LILY WHITE UGLY SELF.”

“Wow, that was so insightful, I’m so glad I decided to tuck my balls behind my legs and asked you. Thank you, for not only your ferocious eye contact, for not administering “Monkey Steals Jewels” on me, and for remaining calm while you making gross generalization about your own people and condescending judgments about my history-less ethnic background.”

I maintain my visual, like a vulture to a corpse, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Yeah. Oh well.”

I turn around, took off my jacket, and slowly dip into my wide horse stance.

“Thanks…anyhow.”

Boot to the head, por detras.