Lo and behold, I went out last weekend! Yeah man, with John in the States on business, I’m livin’ it up Sex in the City style! Baam chica baam baam. Ok, so not really. But I did get my ass out of the house on a Saturday night. And I even hit a trendy lounge/club! Unlike my Bar Rouge experience in October, I had a decent time.

So last week, my friend Tegan invited me to join her, her beau, plus another couple for hotpot Saturday night. We first met up at Tegan’s apartment in the JW Marriott, where she and her fiance have been living for the past two years. I was pleased to see a US MNC maintaining some kind of product/service consistency in China. (Usually, MNC China operations adhere to totally different standards than in the US.) This particular Marriott appeared to have its shit together. The suite, albeit a bit hotelish with the hyper color coordination and squarish foam sofas, was super jazzed up with a nicely outfitted kitchen. (I know, I’m always scoping out hotels. Same with office buildings…)

Anyway, shortly after meeting at the Marriott, we headed for pre-dinner drinks at Barbarossa, a beautiful lounge/bar inside People’s Park. I had a mandarin/lime mojito that was eh, not that tasty, but the atmosphere was nice and luckily, the damage was minimal thanks to half-price happy hour. I drank on an empty stomach, so it didn’t take long before I was feeling lightly buzzed. Roasting under the heat lamp didn’t help either. I started getting a little sleepy and drowsy and it wasn’t even 9 pm!

Fortunately, we got hunger pangs at the same time, so we hit Sichuan Hotpot, a local shop down Huanghe Road. Usually, I’m not keen on hotpot. I find it kind of boring to just plop raw veggies and meats into a pot of broth. Might as well eat at home, you know? Plus, dog meat tends to crop up on the menu… But this hotpot experience was great. The secret is in the sauce! And eating out with the hotpot pros, I got the insider scoop. Unfortunately, I cannot recreate the sauce elsewhere, as none of them knew the sauce names, but at least I’ve got Sichuan Hotpot’s sauce mixing protocol down (and it’s a tough one): one scoop from any of the six jars on the left, plus 2-3 scoops from each of the two jars on the far right). Voila! Tasty central: a splash of hotness mixed with sesame and peanut butter all thrown into a thick, creamy goo. Yummy! With the magic sauce, everything tasted so flavorful: mushrooms, spinach, shrimp rolls, radish… And the best part about Sichuan Hotpot? The place is damn cheap! Under 200 rmb for 5 people, and that included some beer. So, I plan on going back (have to squeeze it in before the warm weather hits) to clue my other friends in. I suppose I could try other hotpot places closer to my home, but please, then I’d have to figure the sauces out all over again… too damn complicated. This keeps things simple and cheap. The only catch is I’ll have to take only my Chinese friends; otherwise, the restaurant peeps will mistake me for the tour guide (yes, I was asked!). Oh well, I guess that means my Mandarin passes for local standards? Ha! I wish.

Like I said, I don’t have fond memories of school. I was born a bit on the neurotic side and well, let’s just say school exacerbates my anxieties (I had nervous breakdowns in middle school). So, now I’m a student again: I think this new phase is going to take some getting used to. You see, this morning, we had a quiz (or maybe it was just an in-class exercise). Either way, the teacher told us last Friday that we’d have to write the characters from memory. About 30 words or roughly 60 characters (each word averages two characters). Luckily, I had been studying a little bit every night anyway, so when Sunday rolled around, I was mostly prepared. Still, I ended up creating review sheets to make sure I had the strokes absolutely right (the character fonts are a bit small in the textbook). I even typed the words out using MS Word and blew them up to sizes worthy of vision-impaired readers. The lights went out around 1 a.m., but I was still wide awake at 3:30?! Class was at 8:30.

I’m a freak. Of course everything ended up being fine with the quiz, but I’m telling you, I’m messed up. I’m going to need some alcohol or SOMEthing to ease the nerves.

My newbie friends and acquaintances are always so surprised when I tell them I have a history of being high-strung. “But you’re so laid back and easy-going,” they counter. Haha, looks like I’ve actually pulled off some decent acting.

No seriously, I am rather laid back. Usually, I just go with the flow: Where to eat? What to wear (pre-Pamela)? Who should join? Whatever. No big deal. Certain things, however, I like my way. One example of my neuroses? Receipts. All kept. Yes, I even have shit from before we moved here. US receipts, China receipts, Taiwan receipts, Tokyo receipts. Receipts for crap eats and midnight snack runs to the Lawsons. It’s almost like I want to get audited by the IRS, just so I can pull out my impressive stash. Ok, not really. But to be honest, receipts are just plain handy for record-keeping and expense-tracking. And you know in Shanghai, receipts are a total lifesaver should you accidentally leave your belongings in the taxi. The receipt contains all the info you need to call up the cab company and contact the driver to get your stuff back. My receipt OCD isn’t so bad. At least I don’t input all my street vendor purchases into MS Money (I know someone who does)! Plus, in my defense, you never know when you’ll need proofs of purchase. In my life, I’ve encountered a lot of shit products– items that just break for no frickin’ reason! Receipts have given me new replacements more times than I can count on my two hands! And I’m not talking garbage items either: Bose headphones, Sony earbuds, Shure earbuds, an iPod, a KitchenAid blender glass, clothing, an Illuminations lantern… you get the idea.

This evening John told me about a feature on new cars now: tire pressure sensors. These snazzy things report the pressure readings on your dashboard. How cool is that? I’ve always had a thing for properly inflated tires. Back when I was with CDM, I drove from NC to a job site in SC, only to discover on my arrival that my car had a flat. Not so flat that the car couldn’t drive (obviously), but definitely flat enough to need a plug or patch. Ever since then, I’ve had this obsession. In the States, I checked my tire pressures weekly. And I even had an air compressor. John and I are carless here in Shanghai, but you can bet my bike receives comparable tire attention. I swear it’s the only way to smooth out the rough and bumpy ride. Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. It’s getting late, plus I need to go pump my bike tires. 🙂

My dear friend Sue give birth to a baby boy last month. Little Mason. She’s so the motherly type– nurturing, giving, tolerant, selfless. She said happily, “My labor only took 9 hours.” Jesus, ONLY 9 hours? That’s longer than an ordinary work day, I thought. She admits it was the greatest pain she had ever experienced but already, she thinks they’ll have another. Seriously, I just cannot relate. The woman had an episiotomy for crissakes! You know what that word means? Despite being the daughter of an OB/GYN, I had no clue but by golly, the answer ain’t pretty. You know that hypersensitive skin between the front and back orifices (let’s just call them that)? OMG, the doctor cuts it so the baby doesn’t rip it open on the way out. Oh my frickin’ goodness! She said they applied local anesthetics, but she still felt them cutting so they gave her a second injection. Ugh! Cut up and then stitched up. Not cool, man.

So all while she’s telling me about the experience, I’m spasing out like a true drama queen. Parenthood is just too unfathomable; frankly, I think she’s crazy to opt for pregnancy and parenthood a first time! And then to go through it all twice? Thinking that I was freaking out only about the labor pains, Sue reasoned, “The delivery is only ONE day out of your entire life. One day of pain.” See what I mean by selfless? She’s right in a way, but at the same time, come on, don’t underestimate the immense emotional pain a child can inflict. Speaking from personal experience, I was a complete pain in the ass for my parents. I’m not joking when I say they decided to halt their procreation program after having me. I might have been a goody goody student, but damn, adolescence and adulthood were and remain chock full of conflict, confrontation, and hard-core drama. Yes, screaming, yelling, cussing, door slamming, the works! I’m not proud, but hey, even as my father warned John years ago, I have a temper on me.

I’m just not cut out for parenting. Dogs are a wonderful alternative. You can care for them, teach them, train them, and if you’re lucky, they are well-behaved emotionally-simpler creatures. If you get screwed with a messed-up, incorrigible pup, hey, it’s only 10-12 years max. See what I’m saying? Parenthood is an irreversible, life-long thing. And it’s risky as hell.