Did you ever notice that when you're watching so-called "black" sitcoms, they also have black commercials? I was watching Moesha tonight. McDonald's commercials suddenly have hip-hop in the background. Black mothers talk about how messy their children are when they eat hotdogs and play soccer (it's always soccer mud and ketchup stains..), but it's okay because Tide is on their side. All the movies advertised have predominantly black stars.

And they say there's no more racial divide. In Canada there aren't very many black people, but there's a huge immigrant population. On the news tonight they were talking about how the BC Transit strike has hit Chinatown hard, because they're really dependent on the bus-going crowd (which is predominantly lower-income). I remember looking around at the staff in the food court once when I was in the mall and noticing that almost all the workers were non-white.

On Saturday night I was working once again, cleaning up the patio in preparation for closing the store. I have to bring in all the tables and chairs and sweep before we close. Usually there are only a few people outside by then - almost always it's this group of old Croatian men who like to vaguely hit on me while they're drinking their long doppios [double espresso run through twice]. I've learned how to say "thank you" and "good night" in Croatian and they love it. But that night there were still a lot of people, so I said to everyone, "I can't possibly take everyone's table in last, so if you guys can start packing up, that would be great." The Croatian guys finally started to get up to leave, and I said thank you and goodnight, and one of the ones I chat with more than the others said to me, "Why don't you take their table away first [gesturing behind him] - they're Chinese."
I was flabbergasted. Had I been anywhere but at work I would have started screaming at him. I didn't know what to do with my hands. Finally, I pointed at him and said emphatically, "That's wrong and I don't have to listen to it." I glared at him and walked away. When I passed them again, I said, "You know I'm studying Chinese." The guy looked at me and said, "It's my personal opinion - I happen to like white people." I just said, "I don't want to hear it," and went away to clean a table. He came up to me and said, "You know, the Chinese government is holding an American spy plane right now." "I don't care!" I said. [which is of course far from the truth - but telling him I was a communist at this point would not have helped the situation.] "I think you care too much," he replied, and left. I was so fucking furious that I burst into tears when we finally closed the store. And I have to see these guys every day.

I think this was a contributing factor to my insomnia that night. I felt kind of sick all night, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I tried reading, and then I'd feel sleepy, and as soon as I turned off the light, I was wide awake again. And I had a Get Up Kids song stuck in my head the entire time - actually just one part of it, looping over and over. I slept for an hour after lying there for six, and then I had to go to work. I felt fuzzy and out of it all day. Working when you haven't slept is, like, the worst thing ever. Once Tynan and I stayed up all night and then I had to work at Safeway on a Saturday morning on no sleep. That was rather hellish. In fact, I think that was the night we first made out. Awww. Anyway, I slept for twelve hours last night, so I'm all caught up now.

Whatelse? I'm going to San Francisco in roughly three weeks. Tynan's turning 19 (legal age in Canada - yay, shows at bars, worry-free) in five days. Low is in three days, and the Locust is tomorrow! Yeah! Guaranteed fun times. I'll bring a camera.

I was looking at my old jpegs today when I found something you may or may not enjoy: a story my friend/ex-boyfriend Patrick wrote on his Grandmother's typewriter when he was up visiting her in Sechelt. He was like nine years old at the time. We found it when we were looking at all of his old stuff his mom put in the attic. It's priceless. Patrick was a bitter, bitter child.

Porn frustrates the hell out of me - so much of it is cheesy utter shit. Does everyone really have such bad sexual tastes? I happen to like the female body. Yum. But why do the girls in Sports Illustrated and Playboy have to be wearing such cheesy clothes and doing such stupid poses? We need more emo-girl porn. And I know there are emo girls out there who like porn because some of them mention it on Makeoutclub. Guys in porn are ridiculous too. They're super muscle-y and tanned, or just not good-looking, or they have mustaches, or they've electrolysized their entire body. See, again, we need pictures of skinny tattooed (tattoos could be optional) naked boys with dyed black hair wearing glasses. There is no justice in this world. I don't object to porn on the basis of it being sleazy. That's sort of the definiton of porn. I just want quality. I dunno. Maybe I'm picky. Maybe guys aren't as picky. Anyway, I couldn't pay for porn, because there's a 95% chance it wouldn't serve its function - that is, turn me on.

I'm a porn snob.

I watched Jesus Christ Superstar last night. Despite its cheesiness and religiosity, I love that movie. I didn't think I'd ever hear the first seven words of that sentence come out of my mouth (or see them being typed by my fingers, whatever). And it's filled with hippies too. Maybe it's a part of my childhood or something, liking musicals. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is fantastic. And Everyone Says I Love You - the musical for actors who can't sing. Yesss. I was never quite an Andrew Lloyd Weber freak as a child, though. I never saw Phantom of the Opera or Les Miserables. (I love people who call it Les Mis.

Okay, now I am definitely sure that I'm just trying to fill up space. Enough already, Marlo. Cut it out.