Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Chinese People Hate Me

One day my friend and I decided to go to Chinatown, near downtown L.A. We walked past the meat markets that held dead chickens hanging in the window. "That's soooo gross," my friend said.

I have a tattoo on my back with Chinese characters on it that reads "true woman". "Let's ask someone if my tattoo really says 'true woman' or if the tattoo artist tricked me and put 'fucking slut' instead," I suggested. We walked into a store and I showed a young Chinese man my tattoo. "It say, something like...true woman," he confirmed. Whew.

We entered another store with trinkets, fans, and Chinese jewelry. We walked through the store, picking up various bracelets and trying them on. The owner of the store glared at us. "You buy?" she asked. "No," my friend answered. "Me try."

We got to the end of the store, where a makeshift Buddhist temple had been erected. "Ooh, look at that," she said walking towards it. I followed her. She reached her hand out and began picking up things from the table. "I don't think you're supposed to touch that," I warned. "It's okay to touch...You're supposed to rub Buddha's belly." As she reached her hand towards Buddha's stomach she knocked over several things on the table. They went crashing to the ground. We both looked at each other and started backing out of the store.

"What you do?" the woman yelled. "Get out! Get out my store!" The rest was in Chinese, but I do imagine that she used a variety of Chinese curse words.

We ran out of the store, feeling Buddha's wrath sweep over us. Life is hilarious.

Posted by Jaimie :: 4:01 PM :: 6 Peeked Into My Diary:

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