John and I barely survived our weekend trip to Harbin, the capital of Heilongjiang in Manchuria. Oh. My. God. Colder than my worst nightmare of expectations. Maybe I could have gone better prepared. I doubt it. As you can see in the pictures, I was already fat, blimpy, and practically immobile from my layers. Ok, boots might have helped.

So the first night, we went to the Ice and Snow Festival north of the Songhuajiang River. The event was well worth the trip, but because we were on the water and it was evening, the temperatures and wind gusts were brutal. Guess this was a good way to jump start our systems with a full-on shock. Let me apologize in advance for our pictures. They are no where near the greatness of Todd King’s. Allow me to offer several reasons. First, it took us awhile to figure out the right settings. Second, our hands had trouble holding steady in the freezing cold. Third, once we finally did decipher the optimal settings, we grew very reluctant to take our hands out of our gloves and pockets to fidget with the camera. Please forgive.

Day two, we got up bright and early for a Chinese tour of a lifetime. I have to say, once again LP China misled me. Damn you, Damian H*rper. Man, talk about blowing smoke out the ass… all this superlative-laden language: the biggest ski resort in Asia, the best equipped facility in China, blah, blah. Purportedly, Yabuli hosted the 1996 Asian Winter Games… We got sucked in, I tell you. John, me, and four others in our group endured three hours on a cacophonous Chinese tour bus to check this grand place out. In the end, what did we discover? Nothing all that superb. Just tons of snow, tempertures between -10 to -20 F, and decrepit, single-seater lifts to the summit of Yabuli’s tallest mountain. Big frickin’ deal. Key indicators for disappointment: various abandoned and neglected buildings, lodges, and ski lifts along the way up. The building windows were shot out even. Next to our lift, a steep slope (that may actually have been a nice trail during the Asian Games) was clearly not in use. Still, like sheep, we just hopped on and inched higher and higher into desolation.

When we reached the top, the peace and quiet offered somewhat of a welcome respite, but by then, my feet were losing feeling fast. I started thinking unhappy thoughts. I wondered how many people died atop this mountain of snow and cold. Would I be saved? The puny lift alone took 35-40 minutes each way! You know people do lose fingers and toes and noses to frostbite!! I guess it was nice having an 8-year old with us. He interrupted my morbid thoughts with more important (and harassing) questions about Uno, formerly my favorite card game.

Twenty minutes passed, and it was time to ride back down. At the base, we warmed our hands and feet in the coffee hut. Then, we were back on the bus for another three hours of coerced on-bus entertainment: a Chinese variety show played at the highest volume setting possible.

Day three, we wandered about Harbin. Temps were actually colder than the previous two days, so we rode around in taxis mostly. Saw St. Sophia’s Church. It was nice, but kind of out of place. A single piece of Russian architecture in the middle of an otherwise typical Chinese city. Inside, the church had obviously been converted into a tourist stop/center, so there were black and white historical pictures of Harbin mixed in with random religious paintings (including a version of the Last Supper), and all of it surrounding a city model on display.

Enrolling as a student here in Shanghai is, as you might guess, quite a process. That said, I set my expectations low from the start. Fortunately, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. In fact, the experience has been rather organized and maybe even less bureaucratic than in the States. Say it isn’t so!

Perhaps the most tedious part of becoming an official student is converting my tourist visa into a student visa. Two weeks ago, I underwent the required physical exam at the government clinic for foreigners. I went through the experience last October in 2004, so I remembered the special shuffle. The process actually brings to mind an assembly line: whole chicken in, packaged chicken parts out. Not sure why I think of a chicken processing plant. I just do.

In one hour, I passed through a series of maybe seven different rooms (not sequentially ordered, unfortunately), each housing an “expert” to conduct the test, be it the weigh-in, blood draw, blood pressure check, organs exam, vision test, ultrasound scan (yes, employers here get to know whether you’re pregnant), EKG, or chest x-ray. Talk about zero physician-patient interaction, this was a no games in-and-out operation: hello, goodbye, next. Three minutes tops.

So I received my health report today. Drumroll… The doctor has deemed me to “Be in basically normal health status.” What’s the difference between “basically normal” and just plain “normal”? I don’t think I’ll ever know.

My Mandarin classes start in a month. In preparation, I’m pushing myself to read and write more Chinese on the computer. I’m finding quite a few applications for this. You see, since I’m the ultimate cheapie, I can spend hours online “researching” the best deals. Recently, I was surfing some local travel sites (the Chinese equivalents of Travelocity and Expedia) scoping out the latest specials. Both Ctrip and Elong offer Chinese and English versions, but I’m always paranoid the prices will vary, so I actually check all the language formats. Fortunately, I didn’t find any price discrepancies, but to my irritation, I discovered that the same exact fights we booked a month ago for our trip this weekend to Harbin (where it’s currently -10 F) were now half price. When I first got the tickets, the agent told me the flight was booked, and the limited remaining seats were full fare. Now, three weeks later, there was suddenly greater availability? What the hell? Sure, maybe some people canceled their trip due to the benzene spill in October (the city’s water supply was shut off for three days)… Whatever. All I know is, I didn’t get the good deal. I almost resigned myself to getting gyped but then I figured, why not try for a refund of the price difference. After all, the Shanghainese are super price conscious; surely, such a request isn’t beyond what they would do. So I called Ctrip, and can you believe, I got to return the tickets? I was shocked. Usually in China, you can’t return crap and in this case, I fully expected to get screwed. I guess it was my lucky day. Mind you, the fix wasn’t exactly logical: I had to pay a 5% return fee and turn in the physical tickets to Ctrip. Then, I was re-issued tickets for the same exact flight. Totally roundabout, but hey, saved us about $200 USD!

This evening, I got to use my written Chinese on an all-Chinese site. I went to Taobao, a domestic site similar to Ebay, searching for Cetaphil cleanser. I first encountered Taobao a few months ago when I went there looking to replace my lost cell phone. Back then, my Chinese literacy was completely useless, so I called on the help of a multilingual friend to contact the seller. This time, I hunted down a Cetaphil seller in Shanghai and just started MSNing him. Sure, he probably would have preferred that I just do the transaction using the Taobao shopping cart, but given my limited literacy, I still needed to ask questions using words I knew, using my limited vocabulary set. I was ridiculously slow in typing my responses, but hey, one hour later, the transaction was done. My first online purchase done completely in Chinese. I’m sure the seller thought I was mentally challenged, because I likely asked questions whose answers were already listed on the posting. Oh well. I’m having a good time going in cognito. Ok, I guess I should still give credit where it’s due: thank goodness for Adsotrans, a superhandy site that gives me new special powers in Chinese-English translation.

You’d think for heavy eaters like John and me, the minimalist diet in Tokyo would have driven us to the opposite extreme. Actually, we’d originally planned on binging our hearts out on returning to Shanghai. Strangely enough though, one of us (and I honestly can’t remember whether it was John or I) had the bright idea to actually prolong (or rather exacerbate) the “eating in moderation” theme by undergoing a two-day brown rice/veggie/fruit-only diet. With all the Stateside buzz about detox and colonics, I was starting to believe: surely worms, parasites, and other creepy crawlers were thriving in my gunked-up intestines. They had to be eradicated. Through the grapevine, I’d heard of a few people getting hooked on colonics. They insisted the results were unfathomable, magical, life-altering. I just couldn’t get beyond the thought of manually flushing out that part of the system, so a “cleansing diet” seemed like the next best thing. Two days, how bad could it be? A good test of will, I suppose.

Well, I have to say: the cleansing diet sucked. Big time. It was horrible. I mean, sure, first meal or two, no big deal. Brown rice, steamed veggies. They kinda offered that vegetarian/yoga journal appeal. Whatever. Jesus Mary and Joseph, by day 2 morning, John and I were so frickin’ hungry. By day 2 evening, both of us felt like complete ass: totally weak and nauseous. I know I’m out of shape but damn, I had no idea such a brief change in diet would screw me like that: seriously, I was a moaning groaning cripple, writhing in pain on the futon. And man, I had the biggest migraine ever, smack dab in the middle of my forehead. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I was trying to listen to a podcast, and nothing was registering. I was a total basketcase. And John was the same way. Finally, at like 10pm, he demanded an end to the madness. He headed straight to the kitchen where he cooked himself up a big, juicy, cheesy omelet. He then returned to the office (where I was still trying to hold out) and scarfed that thing down in record time. Within seconds, he was prancing around the room all happy go lucky, bragging about how the omelet made him feel instantly better. How could I resist? I figured, two days was the original goal anyway. I was pretty much there. Why torture myself further? What for?

Last month, I met someone who said he fasted (liquid only) twice a year for one week each time. Interested, I asked him why. He got all defensive and went into this diatribe about how fasting wasn’t just about physical detox; it was about spiritual renewal and rejunvenation. Ok, whatever. Let me tell you. I didn’t feel a single ounce of revitalization. I felt like I’d spent the day on a Cast Away raft. I was done, man. 10:21 pm. Got myself a chocolate bar and indulged. I felt instantly better.

Roughly one week after we read the spoilers for the Nip/Tuck season finale, John and I got our hands on the actual video clip. Oh my god. The worst episode. Ever. In the history of television. Hehe.

I mean, yeah based on the spoilers, we had very low expectations. Still, we didn’t think Nip/Tuck would stoop to a -10 on a 1 to 10 scale. Seriously, in one episode, all the redeeming qualities of that show went down the shitter. I suppose we should only blame ourselves: John and I were foolishly hopeful that the beautiful actors would pull something off. We thought the delivery would somehow mitigate the pain of a botched storyline. Nope. I could really go on and on about the inconsistencies, about the lame attempt to Silence of the Lamb the whole escaped carver plot. But I’ll spare you. We’re just glad the season’s over. Definitely need a break from that.

In Tokyo, we splurged and saw “Memoirs of a Geisha” at the theater. Excellent camerawork and soundtrack, but unfortunately, the script was awful. So many lines sounded misplaced and awkward. John and I’d look over at each other during the film and just roll our eyes. Some bits truly felt like high school (or middle school) drama. Yeah, major bummer. Then again, I guess I’d entered the screening a bit cynical: storylines involving young, prepubescent girls falling “in love” with grown men really disturb me (albeit not enough to keep me away altogether). As for the controversy surrounding Chinese actors playing Japanese characters, I feel it’s a bit extreme to insist that only a Japanese woman could understand or convey the cultural complexities and nuances of the geisha world. First, how many ordinary or even celebrity Japanese are really that familiar with the geisha life? Isn’t one point of the book (and movie) that geishas comprise a very special subsect of Japanese society? Isn’t that part of the “mystery”? Whether the actors are Japanese or Chinese, they still have to research and learn about geishas. Second, if I (a purebred Chinese) am repeatedly mistaken for being Japanese in Tokyo, and I honestly cannot physically distinguish many Japanese people from Chinese people (or caucasian Americans from caucasian Europeans, for that matter), is it fair to take offense at an actor from one Far Eastern Asian country portraying someone from another? Is it wrong for US films to cast a light-skinned African American in a Latino role? I don’t really think so. That’s not to say I think Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, etc. are interchangeable. Identity goes beyond just physical traits. If an actor’s physical attributes can convincingly match that of the character (unlike Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s), I think casting someone of one ethnicity to portray another is ok. As for making the emotional and cultural identities complete and fitting to the character, that is the job of the actor. Anyway…

I noticed “Memoirs” also did not contain a love scene between the Chinese actor Zhang Ziyi and the Japanese actor Ken Watanabe. I thought that was the whole reason China was delaying release of the film– because the government censors wanted to delete the Chinese woman-Japanese man getting-it-on part. Could this scene have been cut out by the director for all releases of the film in Asia, or was this the work of Japanese censors? I don’t know enough about the film industry. Ah well, it just might have been too hot for my prudish eyes.

Our place is falling apart. Two days after getting back to town, our bed broke again (and no, we weren’t re-enacting some scene on Nip/Tuck). Add that to our growing list of broken items: drawers, bookshelf, shoe cabinet. And we don’t even have kids, so all this damage is from light, daily use: just goes to show you how cheap our furniture is. So fine, had the maintenance guy come Tuesday to fix the beam. He had already come a few weeks prior to repair a broken beam then. That time, while nailing together the broken segments of wood, he damaged our floor (he just hammered the wood directly on top of the floor, without using any padding). This time, for the second broken beam, he replaced it with an entirely new one, but it wasn’t made of pressurized wood. John made a sketical face, but Mr. Zhang insisted the beam was adequate. Well, Wednesday morning when I sat at the end of the bed to put on my socks, there was a loud cracking noise. I still didn’t believe the beam would actually break, so John sat on his side to prove his point. CRACK, BOOM! Point taken.

Mr. Zhang came back to assess the damage. He suggested a new bed, so I text messaged the landlord. While waiting for a response, Mr. Zhang went ahead to repair the broken bookcase hinges. First of all, the guy never brings his tool kit. He had like one screwdriver on him. Borrowed my hammer and then needed to borrow my pocketknife. Then, the replacement hinges he had bought didn’t fit into the wood panel, so rather than going to get smaller hinges, he used my knife to cut out a bigger space for the hinge. I left the room for a second and next thing I know, he’s sliced his finger. The finger was in tact, but it was a deep cut and blood was spewing everywhere. The bleeding would not stop. Wads of paper towels drenched in blood. We got out our first aid kit but what to do? No idea. John couldn’t even stay in the room; the blood was too much for him. I put on some antiseptic and wrapped/bandaged his finger in gauge. I told him to go to the hospital. Get it checked out because it was a really deep cut. He refused. I suggested calling his department to report the injury. Refused. He then left. I was so disturbed and angry. I mean, this is the second time someone has come to fix stuff at the apartment and gotten seriously injured. If the shit in my apartment were more durable, none of this would have happened. I mean, you can’t just get by doing dangerous work with half-ass equipment and tools, you know? There is no worker safety. That’s why China leads the world in work-related deaths. That’s why every few weeks, you hear news about another goddamn explosion in the coal mines. Jesus Christ. And that’s just reported incidents. What about unreported events?

So yesterday evening, I called the landlord over. I just want a new bed. And I want new drawers. I want everything replaced with new stuff. I don’t want stuff repaired. He rejects my request and tells me he’ll replace the wooden beams with steel ones. He’ll superglue the drawers. I tell him that Mr. Zhang hurt himself badly while repairing this crap furniture. He tells me he’ll go check on Mr. Zhang. Ten minutes later, they both come back. Mr. Zhang just has a bandage on the finger. He didn’t go to a doctor. Just bought oral meds and put a bandaid on it. And the landlord has commissioned Mr. Zhang to handle the bed repair and drawer repair. What the fuck? I mean, give the guy a day or two to recover. He nearly sliced off his finger! I protested, but Mr. Zhang insisted he was fine. What can you do? Grown men don’t want to take health and safety seriously. They drive me nuts.

John and I got schooled in Tokyo. We were only there for four days but sheesh, downtown felt like the densest place on Earth and after walking around endlessly for hours, both of us were completely “jia le fu‘d” (a term we coined after Carrefour, the hypermart in Shanghai, where we ALWAYS leave with migraines).

Tokyo’s definitely a different place. No pushing and shoving, no spitting, no trash strewn all over the streets, AND get this, potable tap water. Yes, life in an industrialized country is good. Still, I’m actually getting the swing of being a rude, bad-ass, beotch in China. Outta my way, damnit!

Tokyo was surprisingly difficult to navigate. And I don’t think it was just because we didn’t speak Japanese. Whenever I asked people for directions, they too seemed to have a difficult time. For one thing, the “You are here” maps scattered near all the metro entrances are not oriented with north pointing up. Instead, they’re rotated so left on the map is left from where you are. Sound practical, but it totally confused us, because we just assumed up was north? But that’s not even the worst of it: the streets aren’t named, much less labeled. Blow up maps show a bunch of smaller streets but no frickin’ names!! Totally chaotic. John and I entered the danger zone (onset of hunger pangs) far too often because we couldn’t A) determine our exact location B) get ourselves to the food place whose biz card we had and C) get enough to eat when we finally did settle on a food place.

Still, Tokyo has its pluses. In a land where people are even more obsessed than the Americans with shopping, you gain access to a lot of specialty stores and products. As expected, John stocked up on notebooks and pens. We also ogled all the new gadgets in the tech stores. Like SH and big cities in the US, Tokyo also had all the big-name fashion boutiques, but unlike Shanghai or DC, there were actually swarms of people inside BUYING stuff. I saw so many LV bags swinging on the arms of hot ladies in Tokyo, that I asked my friend Kelly (who used to live in Tokyo and is fluent in Mandarin, Japanese, AND English) whether the bags were real. Yesiree, it’s the real McCoy in Tokyo. I thought the economy was in a recession? Guess there’s still plenty of dough to be had.

John has added Tokyo to his list of potential places to live. He says it’s because of the stationery and gadgets. More likely though, it’s because the women are hot. I don’t know what it is– a different gene pool, plastic surgery, makeup… no idea. But very attractive and fashionable beyond reason. Stiletto boots and mini, mini skirts everywhere… in the frickin’ dead of winter!! Was a bit bizarre. I know I’m no fashion maven, but I was armed with long johns, earmuffs, gloves, and a scarf. Go figure.

This week, John and I were like anxious little kids waiting up for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. You see, Dec 20 was the season finale of Nip/Tuck, our latest show of the moment. Yes, I bitched earlier about the first episode of season 3 being totally off the wall, sexualizing Christian’s rape re-enactment… Somehow though, I got sucked in again. John says it’s because of the pretty people. Guess he’s right. So we were on the edges of our seats yesterday afternoon, waiting to get ahold of the episode. As usual, our Tivo/MythTV setup failed us again at this very critical time. Since the finale was a two-hour show, the second half conflicted with Dirty Jobs. The damn recorder, with its frickin’ artificial intelligence, decided it was “optimal” to record Dirty Jobs and then catch the re-run of Nip/Tuck the next day. Argh! Either way, I guess it didn’t much matter as long as I’d find the the long-awaited answer: who’s the goddamn carver?!

So seeing that I wouldn’t be able to watch the episode for the answer, I waited and hit the “refresh” button a billion times on TV.com. Surely, a viewer would post a reaction immediately after the airing, right? Nope. Damn fuckers took their time. At first, John was all up in my face, forbidding me to find the answer. He made all these bullshit arguments about how this show was “our thing,” and how discovering the Carver’s identity before watching the episode would have disastrous consequences for our relationship. Come again? Are you frickin’ kidding me? I love spoilers. I’ve always relied on episode guides. You never cared before, and you’re not about to pull this shit on me now. Plus, knowing what happens doesn’t change anything. I’ll still watch the show; I’ll still become fully engrossed. Happened with Felicity, happened (to a lesser extent) with Dawson’s Creek (I know, shit acting but I couldn’t help myself– I needed the teen angst), happened with the OC. In the latter case, reading the spoilers actually saved me from continuing on to season 2. So hey, spoilers can be a great thing. And John at least credits me for the OC foresight.

Well, it’s now day 2 following the Nip/Tuck finale debacle, and I’m getting a kick out of reading people’s reviews (they’re flooding in). Some people are so idiotic with their blind faith devotion. I mean, every single review of theirs is like, “Best show in the history of tv. Ever.” Ugh, like how old are you? 15? Puhleez. “The history of tv”? Enough with the histrionics. I mean really, you just can’t rank every episode a 10, ok? That’s not how the system works. It’s like asking my friend Nathalie about a movie, any movie. In her view, they’re ALL excellent. I mean, what kind of insight is that? Ah well, in spite of the lame-o reviews, there were some others that amused me. Like this:

…To me it was all a bit rushed and I was actually disappointed with the reveal.

Why — mainly because it didn’t seem to add up for me. Quentin and his sister? Wha? Why did Kit come to investigate and incriminate Christian to begin with. I would think being in the “cop squad” they would have investigated her background when hiring her and it would have been a conflict of interest for her to interrogate him. Lame. Second, what nobody checks to see if Quentin is really dead? They just wheel him to autopsy and she has jurisdiction in that area to release him? Hello — they aren’t going to check where is the body? Lame. Lame.

I don’t buy that Quentin came to Miami to fix C & S faces and then turned out to be the one that did it to them in the first place. Did any body notice but this was hypocritical. “Don’t fix my work” So he joins the staff and fixes his own work? Lame. Lame. Lame.

And now what? They are still running around in the tropics, does this mean we have to see more of them next season? Oh dear lord, let me vomit…

John says I’m totally like the people who review shows. I get all into the discrepancies in the story, and I overanalyze ad nauseum all the characters and their emotions. Hey, that’s what happens when you like to judge people, what can I say? Anyway, yeah the season finale was a huge letdown. But that’s not going to stop us from watching the episodes (once they finally complete the MythTV post-processing).

By the way, one reviewer said the finale “jumps the shark.” What the hell does that mean? My grasp of American culture and slang has always been weak (I blame that on being the daughter of immigrants…), but am I totally losing it? Please, enlighten me.

In other news, John and I are heading off to Tokyo tomorrow. I’m a little apprehensive about being in a place where I have no clue about the language. Guess this will be a good opportunity to experience what John went through when we first moved to China. The flight over is three hours, so that’s when I plan to cram a tiny bit of Japanese. Always doing shit last minute.

Oh, my students invited me out for hotpot last night. We went to a chain located near the Shanghai Stadium. Had a huge dining hall (I imagine to accommodate all the tour buses that pass through). Dinner was fun. My stomach was a little queasy afterwards, but all in all, the meal was a real eye-opener. Apparently, the staff had never gone out for dinner (in this home-style setting) before. So, at first, I was really confused because they had no idea what each other liked to eat. Cow stomach was a big hit yesterday. Luckily, I stuck with the veggies. The venue was kind of strange. During our meal, there were stage performances– a hulla dancer (she had 6 hoops going at once), a juggler, a singer. All of this was then followed by a painting auction, with bidding and all. Was so distracting. On top of that, my students were toasting every few minutes– sometimes the group toast, other times one-on-one. I had no idea what was going on. I’ll have to research the toasting custom. Just hope I didn’t come across as rude. They’re a sweet bunch, and I had a good time. Ok, running out of juice soon on the laptop. Gotta get packing anyway.

Yes, I was a Newlyweds junkie. And now, Nick and Jess are officially over. What a downer. Yes, I know they were Republicans and all into this “support our Commander in Chief” bull, but I couldn’t help myself. There was just something about watching them. Maybe it wasn’t so much Nick and Jessica who captivated me, maybe it was just the opportunity to focus on one relationship in a show. At the opposite extreme, John and I have been on the edges of our seats tuning into season 3 of Nip/Tuck. We’re suckers for that show too, but jesus, it’s so damn frustrating and annoying watching these characters move in and out of relationships, especially amongst the same group of people. It’s so 90210. Despite all this (plus the gratuitous threesome scene I bitched about earlier this season), John and I are dying over here trying to figure out who the carver is. The double feature season finale is Dec 20, but we’re still trying to get ahold of the Dec 13 episode. I am extremely impatient. Pathetically, I’ve already scoured the internet for spoilers. No damn luck. It’s driving me insane. Anyone up to date on what’s happening? I need some serious scoop! Hook me up.

In other e-news, I’m also searching for “Memoirs.” Damn film opened in the States earlier this month. Word on the street is, it’s not coming to China until February– the censors are all worked up over the Chinese woman-Japanese man sex scene. The nationalism can be a bit much over here, especially considering the pain the Chinese have inflicted on their own. Oh well, John and I are just going to see the film in Tokyo, in its full, unedited glory. Hehe, just four days left.

Boy, I am beat. Ran a bunch of errands today, all afternoon in fact. Paid utility bills, paid rent, went to the post office (two actually, because I waited in line at one for so long that I just ended up leaving), went to LifeLine to run computer backups. I know, it’s just a few items on the to-do list. Somehow though, it took hours. And at the post office, some European dude in front of me thought I was trying to butt in line or something. He had stepped to the right to deal with his big package, and I put my mail on the counter just so I wouldn’t have to dig them out of my bag. Look man, I know you’re in line. No problem. Well, I guess seeing that I looked Chinese, he assumed the worst and felt threatened. Next thing I knew, he backed all up in my grill with his monstrous box. Ugh. I was so annoyed. Plus, he didn’t speak a lick of Chinese, and he started getting all huffy with the mail lady. Whatever, man. At least try, with body language, something.

John cheered me up with food, of course. I had my little breakdown and then he gave me a chocolate eclair and a fresh batch of hummus. Isn’t he the greatest? Then he showed me some sketchy websites and video clips with Jimmy Kimmel and his kind (No, I’m not judgemental). Amusing to John, but irritating to me. Oh well, can’t expect perfection every time.

After a few minutes of that god-awful trash, he switched over to ChinesePod, which I love. We listened to the lesson on mild swearing. That was fun. Then, I don’t know what made him think of it, but he played that J. Ralph song, the one from the VW Jetta commercial where this dude is totally panicked and on his way to a church wedding where a woman and another guy are about to say “I do.” Argh, can you feel the tension? Anyway, the music is just so beautiful and melancholic… just a second into the music, and I recall every juicy bit of the clip, despite the commercial being several years old. And what a perfect diversion. I had to find it. Immediately. John spent like 15 minutes going through the Google results. I grew a bit impatient and went to get my laptop. Got it on the first try. “vw wedding ad clip.” Soooo good. I swear though, VW HAS to make a part 2. I know the damn ad only lasts a few seconds, but I’m hooked every time I watch it. I just have to know how this story ends! Without further ado, check it here.