Friday 3/29-Saturday 3/30           A Girly PJ Party

 

        Stella invited all the girls to her and Christina’s new place, an apartment their parents bought for them in Tamshui.  At first I’d been surprised they’d gone and moved all the way out there (14 stops from Taipei Main Station, the last stop way north on the red line of the MRT, about 40 minute total travel time) without a fight, the two “party girls” that needed to crash in the city after clubbing and such.  But once I saw their pimped up place I realized why.  If my parents gave me an apartment this nice, anywhere-- middle of Yemen, whatever—I’d have some serious thinking to do. 

 

It was done very modern, tastefully and creatively.  There was a Japanese tea area next to the living room even with its own sink.  Their bedrooms weren’t rectangular but cut at different angles and they both had beautiful hi-rise views.  They each had a full bathroom.  Kitchen, dining room, guest room/study, and balcony.  The apartment was part of a complex that had resident lounge, bar, small bowling alley, small karaoke room, free movie theater room, and fitness center.  We all asked to come live with them.  I never, ever want to invite anyone to my own place after seeing this.

 

        Stella busied herself making a pasta and salad dinner for us while everyone wasted no time getting into their PJs and reading magazines/watching TV videos.  I hadn’t read a fashion mag in so long I’d forgotten how interesting yet infuriating they could be at the same time.  By the time I’d flipped through a few pages I not only felt fat and ugly but also had a sudden desire to buy new shoes and makeup things and learn all about various female celebrities’ hairstylists.

 

        Wolfing various cheesecakes, Doritos and coconut cookies while simultaneously complaining about fat, diet and exercise ensues.  I try to dispel lots of weight loss/cellulite cream/nutrition myths and they actually listen to me, thinking my MPH degree taught me all this.  But the only thing they don’t listen to is me pleading, “You don’t need to worry about fat!  You’re ALL THIN!”

 

        After that we vote on what movie to watch first, and the winner is porn.  I sneak off to clean my contacts and hear lots of screaming and cries of disgust.  I came back to see a very scientific, Discovery channel-like video, went from showing a small Japanese guy and girl, to a rhinoceros-built black dude and Thai chick.  There was no dialogue, foreplay, anything.  Just close-up, mechanical copulation.  I was thus effectively turned off from feeling anything remotely sexual for at least a month.  A great cure for LDR blues.

 

        Then we watched Bridget Jones’ Diary, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and My Sassy Girl, all “romantic comedies” that should more accurately be termed “fantasies” since they all involve leading men who are 1) attractive, 2) incredibly sweet, 3) completely faithful, 4) impossibly sensitive. 

 

        I bitch about the entertainment industry and I’ll do it again—they are responsible for feeding false hopes and expectations to both sexes!  They have man-shows and commercials of gorgeous busty-yet-anorexic women happily bringing beer to men watching TV sports on their asses all day.  On the other hand, they give us romantic comedies about these hot, sensitive straight men.  Let’s all get to grips--neither exists!!!  I say we all watch only cartoons, and the world would be a happier place.

 

       Anyway.  We struggled mightily but one by one dropped to sleep toward dawn and all woke around 11-12.  We followed Stella to the supermarket for breakfast eats and she made us great seasoned scrambled eggs, along with cereal and toast and bagels with every kind of spread imaginable, from vanilla/hazelnut to cheez whiz, even beef spread from South Africa.  Then we lounged around and watched more music videos (one in which was a girl from ShiDa that they knew with breast implants.  She had no name, just “Fake Boob Girl.”  She was in the video for one second, dancing in a revealing outfit, they paused it going, “There she is, Fake Boob Girl!”  “Gross!”  “She’s fat,” etc etc)  Then Stella popped in Jay and Silent Bob.  Though it’s hard to tear oneself away from Shannon Elizabeth’s Oscar-worthy acting, we got going.  Gin, Susan and I left together.  It was already 5pm and we couldn’t believe we’d lazied away the whole day.  I’d never watched so many videos in a 24-hour period.  “Is this what they normally do on a Saturday?”

 

        At night we met up again at Room 18, Debby got us all in for free, and even Jonathan came this time (“Finally, I get to see the famous Room 18!”).  DJ Shadow was spinning so it was more like a concert, everyone standing around watching him and not really dancing.  I’d never heard of him before but liked his stuff.  But it wasn’t a very good dancin’ night, just more chillin’ and listening, like a weed house party (so I imagine).  We saw one guy standing alone, wearing a face mask.  Why bother coming to a crowded club if you’re really worried about SARS?  Jonathan said, “Well, I assume it’s not to pick up the ladies!”

 

        After that Jon, Ginger and I went to Swensen’s, my first time.  Food was eh but we ordered a “munchie,” a ball of vanilla ice cream covered in chocolate shell and tons of crushed nuts, that was pretty good.