Just... don't.

I was looking forward to 有隻僵屍暗戀你 (The Vampire Who Admires Me) to begin with.

Now I am really looking forward to it.

I hate getting haircuts. Even in the US, I always felt stupid when people asked how I wanted it cut. Because I honestly didn't know, or didn't know how to tell them.

At the same time, I learned the hard way not to let them run rampant with the scissors by saying "However you think it would look best."

Why do hairdressers always have some of the worst hair styles you've ever seen?

So add to this the idea of trying to get a haircut in another language, and you can see how this quickly risks devolving into farce.

Which I have learned the hard way.

On a different but related note...

I take a lot of guff from people for being a Nick Cheung Kar Fai fan. Reactions range from laughter to disbelief to being insulted.

To which I say, go pound sand. He's funny, acts well, and scared the sh*t out of me when he ate that spoon in Election. 

So there I was, sitting in the chair in a hair place, reading Milk magazine while I waited on the stylist (kill me for saying that). There were some stories and adverts for Connected, the current Louis Koo/Nick Cheung movie.

Sadly, what I wanted for my hair was exactly what Nick's hair looked like:

When the stylist asked how I wanted it cut, I...

It's so hard to say...

I pointed to Nick Cheung.

Is there a more fanboy gesture? Especially one so unintended? Oh, the shame...

At least I got the haircut I wanted.

And so far no one has told me I look like Nick Cheung.

Lately I've been too horridly busy and my (not-from-playing) tennis elbow had been kicking my ass, so I haven't written much of anything, including emails to my US accountant for tax purposes. So please, don't think I was being selective...

I'd promised to write when something interesting and/or good happened. Well, today, it did.

I had gone to TST to listen to Rick, my chiropractor and gym fuhrer, do a presentation about stretching at his clinic. It was in Cantonese, but friends is friends and we had already been to the gym so I was not really capable of leaving.

Afterward, I went to HMV because I was a block away and it's not like I had a pressing schedule. I found a DVD of "Inside Deep Throat," a documentary about the infamous adult film that I may use for my Media, Sex and Violence class next semester. Sometimes I love my job.

While I was wandering around upstairs, I noticed a guy who looked like Jordan Chan.

Then the little voice in my head -

Not the voice that says "You're a loser!" and sounds like my mother, I mean the voice that sounds like that movie trailer guy. The voice that tells you "You have gonorrhea. The nurse will not take it well if you ask her to dinner. And she has a syringe. A big syringe..."

That voice.

Well, that voice said "That is Jordan Chan."

It was.

Opportunity presented, I walked over and said hello, handing him my card. I told him (in Cantonese) that I liked his movies and wanted to say thank you. Understandably, he was rather reticent at this lumbering gweilo who just bum-rushed him, but after reading my card, he seemed okay.

We talked briefly, in English and (my awful) Cantonese, about a lot of stuff, about movies, his experiences, and other things. I was rather shocked that he seemed so willing to talk to me, but I usually am.

He asked how long I'd been here, and when I said three years, he just stared at me. He asked me how I learned to speak Cantonese so well (which I neither claim nor concede); I told him from movies, and from living in places where eating necessitates the language.

He continued to stare at me, and it was kind of funny because it was the 'Jordan Chan staring' face I'd seen in so many movies! He said "No wonder you are a doctor," and I thought it was a nice compliment. I always tell people that one of the great things about living in Asia is that when people find out I have a PhD, they don't ask me where I wait tables.

I often find myself initiating a kind of Mutual Admiration Society with actors I meet here. The best example was meeting Lau Ching Wan; he looked at my card and said "You're a professor!" and I said "And you're Lau Ching Wan!"

You get the idea.

I figured I better leave Mr. Chan to his CD shopping, so we shook hands and I wandered downstairs to grab that documentary. I wished I had a paint pen in my bag; I'd have bought a DVD of Kung Fu Hip Hop and begged for a signature.

I made my way up to Fa Yuen St., because I hadn't been there in a while and enjoy looking for cheap clothes.

And and it's not like I had a pressing schedule.

I try to tell people that I never take my life seriously and God doesn't either. It's rare that I find pants my size in Hong Kong. And when I do they are usually... unique.

Like bright orange corduroy. HK$59.

I had to laugh, because there is absolutely nothing useful about orange corduroy pants, even if they are my size.

Except...

There's an AnD Halloween party and costumes are mandatory.

In another store I found a similarly revolting bright orange polo shirt.

So I can go to the party as either a safety cone or a pumpkin.

But...

The pants are not, how to say, generously cut. It's not the waist, it's the legs. They're cut for some Eurotrash model-type with greasy hair and a smack habit, not a 42-year old American of Polish ancestry with a penchant for red meat and weightlifting. I may need to visit a tailor and have the seams opened up and some reflective material put down the sides of the legs so I get a little breathing room.

Besides, that would look good for the safety cone motif. I'll buy one of those flashing lights, put it on a belt, and maybe find an orange kid's toy bucket and stick it on my head.

Or, I'll just suck it up (literally and figuratively), and wear them as is.

It will be a loud outfit, and it's snug fit may inspire comment and/or laughter, but I'm resigned to sticking out in a crowd of people under 6' with black hair. May as well run with it.

So all in all, a good day; I met Jordan Chan and found a Halloween outfit.

Maybe next week Candy Lo will take me up on my offer of free guitar maintenance.

Tomorrow, D'in and Don Cruz will do the same, but it's not quite the same somehow, and I doubt they'd diasgree.

Still, I'm happy to help, and it will be fun to talk about guitars for the afternoon. Stay tuned for that entry...

This should be Air BRUSH Justin.


This should in no way be construed as critical of Justin. Instead, I am trying to highlight the wildly artificial nature of advertising such that people we recognize and are visually familiar with can be rendered nearly unrecognizable in the purported interest of improving their appearance and therefore appeal/marketability. They've made a real person look like an illustration. And for what? He looks perfectly okay in real life.

Except when he wears Yankees gear.