AN DOOF ASS: MEMORIES!

In other news, this weekend is the Chinese New Year. This means I have a wonderful opportunity to stand in the freezing cold watching short men under a papier-mâché head dance around like they have Schezuan sauce in their shoes. It wasn't always this way. Back in the day An Doof Ass and I really got into the Chinese New Year celebration. Of course for almost completely different reasons.

An Doof Ass went to defend his “Roman Heritage” that was passed on to the Anglo-Saxons and brought to the States by the Pilgrims. He had a big chart in his room explaining it all. It had all kinds of lines emanating from a stick figure he called the Roman Spirit. Each line had a phrase like “superior bloodline” or “elegant sufficiency of mass” written above it. The lines would swirl about and then land on a picture of Michelangelo’s David he had taped to the otherside of the wall. The picture had “Abam” written on it with green Crayon. Every night he would go into his room with a big glass of milk and a box of Oreos and study that diagram for hours, occasionally adding a new connecting line like: “Gin fizzes” or “no receding hairline.” It was creepy. After about 2 months of this he became really concerned about immigration and the “Growing Threat On Wentworth."

As for me, I was really into early Jackie Chan: Drunken Master, Half a Loaf of Kung Fu, all the greats. The storyline in these tales was always the same, a loser beats up people and gets previously unavailable girls. It was clear what I shoud, nay, had to do. While An Doof Ass dunked his Oreos and studied away, I was in my room making a chart. Basically it was the same as An Doof Ass's except the stick figure at the center represented me and instead of David I had a picture of Ziyi Zhang and lines with phrases such as “passionate hand holding” and “Too Short? Legitimate Concern? No! No!”

When the day came, An Doof Ass packed his bag full of “Anglo Firecracker," and I put a pair of foam nun chucks in my shoulder bag. Then we went looking for trouble and were consequentially up to no good. Adam scanned the crowds for opportunities to insurrect. I for the frailest old man to beat up.

Oh the adventures we had in Chinatown! I’ll never forget the time we drank a bottle of Goldslagger in celebration of our impending trip to defend heritage and score chicks. So many sweet toasts were made that morning.

An Doof Ass: To the glorious Republic!
Working Boy: To hot chicks with swords!
(slug)
A.D.A.: To Abam, righteous inheritor of the straight path!
W.B: To hot chicks with swords … and kung fu!
(slug)

This continues for about 5 minutes and 10 more shots.

A.D.A: (has hiccups) We should get going. These pamphlets won’t pass themselves out.
W.B.: (cotton mouth) Yeah okay. Wait. Which one am I again? The racist or the perv?
A.D.A: You’re the perv. I’m the defender of purity.
W.B.: Oh yeah. Hey which way to the bathroom?
A.D.A: It's over there noble savage.

12 hours later…W.B. stumbles out of bathroom…

W.B.: My head hurts and my tongue feels like it’s been licking a lamppost. Now I’ll never score whatever I was trying to score. An Doof Ass, did you make it down to defend your heritage?

An Doof Ass is laying down in the living room smoking Earl Grey tea from his pipe.

A.D.A: Almost. I fell down the stairs on the way out of the apartment and smashed my head against the door. I was pretty much out till about 2 minutes ago.

.....

W.B: We rule.
A.D.A: Sweet heaven I love my culture.