American Knees

My uncle is alive! He's visiting from China until Monday, although thankfully not staying at my house. He's the one who Skyped with Chinese ladies and then flew to China "to teach English." I guess he actually does, since he gave me a two-sided business card sporting his name and title in both English and Chinese as a professor of English. But, you know, I can't read the Chinese side so maybe it really says something like "Head Cat Fattener." I'd never know the difference.

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He also smokes way more than he before, which is interesting since he said Chinese people are incredibly inhospitable to smokers. This confuses me since 1) surely there are smokers among the Chinese, and 2) where would he such a prolific amount of cigarettes if they are so inhospitable to smokers? Anyway. He wanted to smoke in my house and got cockblocked by my dad, causing him unforgivable irritation that he couldn't summarily imbue my walls and furniture with its exquisite scent and expose my unborn baby to secondhand smoke (oh yeah, I'm knocked up. I know, you totally care), and said he considered it really rude not to allow a guest to do what he wanted. Um. WAT. He also said he was bored at my house because, in the interest of pursuing creative avenues as well as combating my penchant for procrastination, we don't have cable. And he wanted to watch Fox News. Legitimate gripe, completely illegitimate desire. Grow a brain, dude. He also got irritated that he couldn't smoke in my other uncle's house, WHO, by the way, he is here specifically to visit because that uncle is hanging onto life by a single, cancer-ravaged thread. Irritated. That he couldn't smoke in that house. Unfortunately, I wasn't present when these things were said or else I'd have had some strong opinions on propriety and courtesy myself. Quite.

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Random footnote: anyone remember Ramona Quimby's nosmoking sign from the books? When she was trying to get her dad to stop smoking? I always think of that when I see any sign with a cigarette on it. Bueller? Bueller?

So, I did get to talk to my uncle for a little bit while he was grudgingly chain-smoking on my porch. Obvs, I grilled him for details on Chinese life and his Chinese ladyfriends. He didn't marry the one he originally went to meet and is living with a different one now, who he also won't marry because "she's a gold digger." He thinks this because she asked what he was going to do for income once he's forced to retire (supposedly in China the men have to retire at 65 and women at 55 or 60 or something, anyone want to confirm that? I'm feeling Google-lazy), which I actually thought was a legitimate question since he earned a total of about $300.00 last year. That ain't much to live on to start with, much less as a retiree. But, because I didn't yet know how annoyed he was with me about the whole smoking thing, I kept my mouth shut and say so. I only like to poke the bear when I already know it's riled up.

He did bring me a bunch of weird Chinese chocolates! I can't read the packaging so I have no idea what's in them. I brought them to work but my co-workers weren't interested in risking melamine poisoning and having a taste. Some of them had a nice flavor, like a mixture of cocoa and mocha, not as sweet as chocolates here. I liked those. Others tasted like mustiness and smoke. I didn't like those. I don't know why.

And with that, I leave you with a schoolyard chant I randomly remembered:

"Chinese, Japanese, American knees, look at these!"

Have a nice day, weirdos.