7 Reasons Why Arthur Chu Is Actually A Jeopardy-DOMINATING Money-Making BADASS!

The fact that you are reading this is a disgrace. How do you not know who Arthur Chu is?! Have you been living under a ro…


Well, Arthur Chu is basically the Zeus God of Jeopardy and is making a KILLING with his use of game theory. He essentially says “fuck it” to the conventional way of playing Jeopardy and uses his Asian wizard powers to dominate and crush his opponents. Unfortunately, the racists have splashed from within the toilet bowl to spew their moronic, ignorant comments. But you know what? FUCK THAT! Arthur Chu is your dominatrix and your are his ball-gag-wearing bitch. Here are a few reasons why:

1. He’s not phased by Alex Trebek

Arthur Chu was never starstruck by Alex Trebek. In fact, after winning Jeopardy Arthur went to Trebek’s office, sat on his chair, and began eating a roast beef sandwich while Alex wiped the crumbs off his chest. Arthur does whatever he wants.

2. Arthur Chu = the Villain from James Bond: Goldeneye, Odd Job

Arthur Chu inspired the character of Odd Job due to his ruthlessness and intelligence. Correction: Odd Job was the CHILDREN’S version of Arthur Chu because once, Arthur Chu bit off a man’s bicep because he accidentally sneezed in Arthur’s way.

Lesson learned.

3. He’s Pretty Much The Mark Zuckerberg of Jeopardy

After his fourth consecutive win on Jeopardy, Arthur totaled over $100,000. People criticize him for his style but guess what? He’s so CASH MONEY he doesn’t even need to wear clothes. In fact, underneath the podium is a team of fans “servicing” Arthur’s Dong-Zilla. SO TRUE. Just google it. Trust me.

4. He Does Voice Overs – As a SIDE JOB

DUDE! That puts him on the same league as Morgan Freeman. How can you watch that video and NOT be all excited about Sous-Vide? I want one. I want one now. And if you’re a single woman and you watch this, GOD HELP YOU and your erupting panties.

You’ve been warned.

5. PLOT TWIST: He’s A Family Man

You know how in movies when they reveal the Villain’s motives and you suddenly realize, “holy crap, he’s not a bad guy after all!” Well, this is where Arthur’s evil personality takes a turn: he’s happily married and he’s planning for his future family. He doesn’t give a damn what anyone says about him on Twitter or Fox News because he knows he’s winning big money, and he sees how much his family will benefit from it. So who cares what the hell Jimmy McDonald from Florida says about his shirt, or his eyes? In an age of father-less children who have never had a chance to call anyone dad, this is something I have great respect for.

6. He’s An Asian American BAUCE On National Television

It amazes me how few Asian Americans exist on television. From our misrepresentation on shows like “The Bachelor” to our horribly stereotyped characters on “Broke Girls”, I can’t help but feel pessimistic about America’s attempt at highlighting our stories. So to see Arthur Chu rip a gaping hole in the minds of racist Americans through his abrasive playing style makes me giddy like an Anime school girl. To me, I just love the fact that he’s a regular Asian dude doing great things and THAT is an accurate representation of how us Asians truly are doing in America.

7. He’s In An Interracial Marriage!!!!


How dare you think I wouldn’t make this relevant! HOW DARE YOU! But yes, Arthur Chu is in an Interracial relationship. So that just makes him that much more of an Asian-American, Jeopardy-Crushing, Money-Collecting, Interracial-Dating, Hero.


15 Reasons Why Barack Obama Is Actually Asian

The other day I came across this photo of Barack Obama with his extended family. Notice anything?

HELLA ASIANS UP IN HERE! Upon further investigation I was SHOCKED to find out just how Asian Barack truly was. Could it be? Could it be that Asians aren’t just Doctors, Lawyers, Engineers, Nurses, and Pharmacists? Could we actually be… THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA?! Here is definitive proof that our 44th President is indeed a full blown Asian.

1. His Mother re-married an Indonesian man

Obama spent a few years in Indonesia and his step-father was Indonesian. Now, I’m not the most experienced when it comes to Indonesian people but I do know this: they’re brown like me, they probably like eating meat and rice, and they most likely sing Karaoke – so you KNOW Barack indulged in some of that!

2. His Sister is half-Indonesian

You already know Obama and his sister grew up on Anime. YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS!

3. His sister married a Chinese man

Uhhh, hello? Asian Brother-in-Law = Blasian hangouts! The two of them probably drink Ramune, eat pocky sticks, and gossip about how much they like Hawaii Five-O.

4. His half-Brother married a Chinese woman

OH COME ON!! Obama is so Asian when he breathes he smells like Oyster sauce. His brother can even be seen online wearing traditional Asian clothes and you know, YOU KNOW Obama walks around the White House wearing it too.

5. He loves a good MMO RPG

Here’s a photo of Obama playing Starcraft with his online friends, Young Ji and Seonghee. He’s probably winning.

6. He knows how to do “The Asian Bow”

If you read my last post about “How to do the Asian Bow” then you’ll notice that Obama is an expert. He knows not to look into the eyes, bow low, and keep his feet together. HIS FORM IS IMPECCABLE.

7. Obama loves taking selfies

Originally, this picture was of Obama throwing up an Asian peace sign but his buddy didn’t think it was Kawaii enough. Whatever, man…

8. Obama enjoys a good K-Pop marathon

Mr. President has often been spotted watching re-runs of Flower Boy Ramen shop though his favorite pastime is keeping himself updated on the latest K-Pop stars.

9. He’s a big FOODIE

Asians are the biggest, most obnoxious foodies in the world – and so is Obama. President Barack Obama also has a private instagram where he photographs his meals and posts captions like, “nom nom nom” and ” yummy! ^__^”

10. He LOOVES shaved ice

Maybe it’s the Hawaiin in him, or maybe he’s just HELLA ASIAN LIKE THAT. You see, Asians are too cheap and lazy to turn on the air conditioner because they’re afraid of getting a high gas bill. Instead, they eat shaved ice. It’s cheaper, and it tastes like childhood memories and success.

11. Did I mention he LOVES shaved ice?

There’s an infinite supply of photos of Obama eating shaved ice. He’s totes addicted.

12. He’s always chillin’ with his fellow Asian brothers and sisters

Here he is in Korea with his buddies discussing where to go for good Bibimbap.

Now he’s meeting the president of the Philippines, Benigno Aquino, as they shake hands and agree to a Karaoke battle. I think Obama won after that killer rendition of Richard Marx’s “Right here waiting.”

13. Mr. President loves making noodles

I always thought of myself as a noodle expert, but Barack takes it to the extreme: he hires his Chinese noodle buddies to make it for him fresh. That’s dedication!

14. He loves making corny word puns

Asians love making word puns. Here he is whispering a good one into Michelle’s ear.
Barack: Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Barack: Pho
Michelle: Pho who?
Barack: Gurll, your body looks un-PHO-gettable!

15. Barack has those beautiful Asian eyes


AMBW Artists: My Interview with AMBW Romance Writer Nairobi K.

Blog Readers, meet Nairobi K. Nairobi, Readers. 

Now that we’ve gotten through the cheesy introduction, let’s get into it!

Ranier M: Congratulations on your release of “A Rose in the Desert”! Could you tell our readers what this is about?

Nairobi K: A Desert Rose: Snapshot Memories is my debut contribution to AMBW lit. It’s a compilation of short stories illustrating blasian love in a way that is intimate, sensual, unforced, and honest. There is no particular plot, but it was written with the intent that the reader can step into the role of the characters and really experience the moment as it happens in a series of captured memories that leave their imprint long after the moment has passed.

Ranier M:  I love the crafting of Interracial relationships in the snapshots. It doesn’t feel forced and it plays out much like a real-life snapshot: organic and relatable. Were these Interracial pairings intentional or did it just “happen” naturally? Do you think their ethnicities impact the characters themselves?


Nairobi K: This is a really good question! As far as intentional pairings, it definitely was intentional simply because I wrote this specifically for the AMBW community. But the stylistic flow of A Desert Rose was inspired by the uninterrupted, organic flow of life. As the saying goes, “Shit happens” and when it does, you wanna capture the beauty of that moment. I didn’t wanna craft a whole bunch of unbelievable interactions as I’ve seen with many other AMBW books that cater to the fantasy of meeting a famous Asian pop star.

As far as the ethnicities having an impact on the character, I love this question and I will say yes. Yes, because it effects how they appeal to each other in a physical way. Absent of any fetishes, the attraction to the physical features, acknowledging the beauty in the complexion, the hair texture, and facial structure is significant because that’s part of the sensuality, the romance, the gravitational force that pulls two equal and opposite forces together. That is something that can only be highlighted with an obvious difference in ethnicity. And yes, because if you look at it from the perspective of someone who is attracted to some one who is completely opposite of them culturally, linguistically, and of course physically, falling in love with that person opens up entirely new potential to not only get to know that person, but get to know love through something like a culture shock. And that can be a beautiful thing.

“Quite like the yin and yang, I think the unity of Asian men and Black women complement each other in a unique way and that’s what I hope to convey in these snapshot memories.”

Ranier M: Okay, let’s talk about the obvious: there’s a clear theme of intimacy and sex within these stories but it’s done in such a tasteful, non-cliche way. We feel like we’re peering into a peep hole of true romanticism that movies and music seem to forget. How did you come up with this concept? Were you in a particular part of your life that influenced this theme? Or was there a certain someone fueling this fire?


Nairobi K: You know, I’ve read a few interviews of authors and I don’t recall any of the questions being this damn good. I swear I really had to take a whole day to think about this. Hahaha, but that’s also because I’ve been writing since I was in 7th grade and my style has always been on the level of subtle sensuality, so I never actually had to force this style because it just came naturally.

“I like sexy, but I can’t stand it when authors just throw it in your face and leave nothing up to the imagination.”

I write exactly what I would be interested in reading and since I’m very particular about style and expression when it comes to romance, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I got tired of the cliché and predictable formulas of romance. I guess you could compare my writing style to foreplay because that’s where all the romance is. I get the readers all riled up before it actually happens so when it actually does, it’s like “oh God yes.” Ahahaha

Ranier M: There’s a clear lack of romantic interactions between Black Women and Asian Men in movies, music and television. Is it the same in the literary world? Are you influenced by any current artists or writers? If so, who and if not, what does motivate you to write about something no one else is doing?

Nairobi K: Exactly! There is a clear lack of blasian love in movies, music, and television. This is exactly what frustrates me! We all know it’s at the point where we’re gonna have to start kicking faces in to get ourselves represented in the media and literary world. But it’s one thing to get that representation individually; it’s a whole other beast to see us represented together as a power couple. And because AMBW is still so unique despite the growing online community, we can’t say they don’t wanna see it. I think they just don’t know that it exists. I still get looks of surprise when I’m getting all lovey with my fiancé in public. The stereotypes that people have about black women and Asian men just doesn’t seem to be able to fit in a whole new paradigm of love between two individuals who have been placed on the bottom of society’s most desired list (and who gives a damn about that list, I say). So I decided I would contribute to the brave few authors who have made the AMBW genre more accessible.


Before I wrote this, I literally typed into amazon the keyword “ambw” and was excited to find that there was a handful of books on there. I checked out the competition, looked at a few covers to get an idea of what the covers looked like and read the previews on the books. Now this is not to knock any of the hard working authors who cater specifically to the ambw community, but I was shocked at how some of the covers were actually perpetuating stereotypes. And here I thought the whole goal was to make these relationships seem just as normal as the more common black/white interracial relationships. But I found that by both the cover and the short book previews that the characters were still glaringly superficial and at times upholding the stereotypes and fetishes believed about both black women and Asian men individually. So I was very disappointed by much of what I saw, although there were definitely some in there that had great covers and were very good. So you know what I did? I took a short cut! I used my fiancé as the cover model for A Desert Rose.

Sneaky, I know. But I’m also very particular about the imagery because I know very well that covers are what make people actually stop and look. But again, I went for that subtle sexy look with the lights low and the orange glow and….im getting carried away hahahah. But since I had written A Desert Rose before even checking out other books in the genre, once I actually saw what was on the market I realized already that A Desert Rose was taking a unique approach and that really motivated me because I would like to inspire new authors like myself not to be afraid to write an unconventional love story that is natural and relatable.

Ranier M: I truly admire the fact that you don’t fetishize the AMBW relationship and you accurately portray them as normal, sexual and relatable. Do you have any advice for our readers that might be “virgins” to the interracial dating/AMBW world?

Nairobi K: Well I think the approach is quite common sense. Much of the attraction to Asian guys comes from the exposure to their culture and the most popular way is through things like anime, manga, music, and dramas. I’m a fan of all of these, and I may only be twenty one, but dammit I like to consider myself mature and I will not for the life of me try to speak to any and every Asian guy in Japanese or Korean (because those are the main two). In fact, my fiance is often mistaken for Korean or Japanese and he’s neither. The fact that his native languages are both Russian and Kazakh blows people’s mind and turns them in circles. He has had girls melt over him in Japanese and he looks at them like they have no eyebrows. If I hadn’t learned that same lesson early, I’m sure we would not be together. He just doesn’t tolerate such ignorance.


“In fact I have a friend who is totally borderline obsessed with Asian men and literally will not consider any other guy who isn’t Asian. Particularly Korean or Japanese, which is also something that really annoys the hell out of me with AMBW virgins. Sometimes they can see the crazed obsession in the eyes and steer clear (smart guys).”

The main expectation is for every Asian guy that crosses their path to be either Korean or Japanese and that seriously needs to stop. I think that is a huge reason some of these relationships don’t work; because of the stereotypes and expectations. And speaking to the ladies, if the guy is neither Korean nor Japanese and you come at him with that bull, you ruined ALL your chances. And frankly that’s just not the way to approach it. In my humble opinion, love comes first and ethnicity is secondary. You shouldn’t categorize Asian men and cross off men from the countries you wouldn’t date. You close off a lot of potential. When you fall in love, it should be that kind of love that just couldn’t explain itself. When people ask you why you like each other, don’t even mention “because she’s black” or “because he’s Asian”. Love doesn’t need cliché or shallow explanations. Too much of that happens in interracial relationships. Plain and simple, let it happen naturally. Keep it honest and sensual, natural and sexy.

For any readers that have any more questions or just want to contact me, you can email me at nairobi_k13@yahoo.com I’d be happy to hear from you! Thanks Ranier for the awesome interview and keep up with the amazing blog. I got you book marked 😀

For a copy of “Desert Rose: Snapshot Memories” buy it now on Amazon!

A Very “Blasian” Valentines Day (Fiction)

“You’re so hot. You are SOOO fucking HAWT! UGH! I WOULD HAVE SEX WITH YOU! You wanna do it? Right now? Here? In the bathroom? LETS GO!”

After a few words of encouragement, I washed my hands and walked out of the men’s bathroom, patting my damp fingers along the side of my leg. Now here’s the thing: when it comes to wining and dining women, I’m a pro. I know the moves, I have the lines, and my confidence is so high I make Fabio look like McLovin. But no matter how many dates I’ve been in the past, I have to admit… I’ve never been on a blind date. And you know what? I’m nervous as shit.

The original plan was to meet Cyan (my date) at my favorite Korean BBQ restaurant by 7:30 pm. Unfortunately, she told me –  via text message *facepalm*- that she doesn’t like BBQ joints because of the tendency to walk out smelling like meat smoke. Fine, no biggie. So that’s how I found myself sitting in a table at Sushi-Ya by myself, for over 30 minutes.

The decor in Sushi-Ya feels like you’re living in a giant bento box. Everything is made out of wood, painted black, trimmed in red. As always, Japanese “art” was suspended from the walls, along with a few samurai swords and samurai masks. Due to the change of plans, I had to push back our date from 7:30pm to 8:30. It is now 9:04pm. My shirt collar feels like it’s getting tighter, and I can feel a pad of moisture forming at my back. A bell rang.




For a split second I KNEW it was Cyan, but at the same time, I had this weird cynical feeling that it wasn’t. That maybe some random yet totally hot black chick walked in by accident. Cyan looked at me, and I at her. I froze, and then I saw her look around, as if she didn’t even notice me. A look for frustration formed at her brows as she pulled out her cell phone, and started to dial. I immediately walked over and introduced myself

Me: Heyyy! Cyan, right?
Cyan: Ranier?
Me: That’s me!
Cyan: Hi, nice to meet you!
Me: Nice to finally meet you too! I’m just over here if you wanna come sit.
Cyan: Yea, sure sure!

(Just as I was about to sit down, she pulled up her chair and took a seat, which gave me a glimpse of how perfect her rear end was.)

Me: Sooo!
Cyan: Sooo!……..

Me: Did you have trouble finding this place? I know it’s kinda hidden and all bu–
Cyan: No it’s cool, I go to the Market nearby so I’m sorta familiar with this area.
Me: Nijiya Market?
Cyan: Yup, that’s the one.
Me: Oh wow, very nice. Do you cook Japanese food often or something?
Cyan: Sorry, ummm, can we order something? I’m just starving.
Me: …uhhhh…yea, sure! Sorry about that. I’m sure you’re hungry.
Cyan: I’ve been waiting to eat for like, forever!
Me: …ha..

Meh…we were off to an okay start. Not bad, yet not good. She ordered a cup of Sake which I watched her down like orange juice. Despite the Sake breath, she started to loosen up a bit. We talked about school, family, and she finished answering my cooking question. “No, I just go there for the Mochi ice cream.”

Me: So I read that you like Korean music, right?
Cyan: Totally. I’m a big fan of anything Korean. I actually dated a few Korean guys in the past.
Me: Wowow!
Cyan: Yup yup.
Me: Why Korean?
Cyan: After I got into the whole K-Pop scene, my girlfriends and I just started, I don’t know, dating them.
Me: Haha! Just like that?
Cyan: Ummm….no? It’s not like we’re easy or anything–
Me: NO! I didn’t mean it like that.
Cyan: Yea, okay.
Me: What I meant was, you just started listening to K-Pop and bam! You wanted to date Korean guys?
Cyan: Pretty much.
Me: Awww, so no love for the Filipino guys?
Cyan: Not really. They’re kinda short in my opinion.
Me: …okay? I guess.
Cyan: Wait, are you Filipino?
Me: Yes, I’m Filipino.
Cyan: I thought you were Vietnamese?
Me: When did I say that?
Cyan: In your profile. You said you were part Viet in your profile.
Me: Chinese. I’m part Chinese.
Cyan: Well, you look Viet.
Me: …I guess. Whatever.

At that moment I just wanted to jab my chopsticks straight into her pretty little eyes. I felt so bothered that my physical attraction to her started to wear off. Forty five minutes into our date, our vibe was less “Romantic Valentines” and more “hurry the hell up and finish your food so I can pay for dinner and leave!”

Me: Alright, well, it was nice meeting you.
Cyan: You too.
Me: I’ll ummm… shoot you a Facebook message or something.
Cyan: K! Byee!

And just like that, she left. Worst date ever, followed by the most awkward hug ever. To make matters worse, I didn’t even get a chance to really eat! I was so concentrated on leaving that I avoided ordering more food. Tormented by a growling stomach, I crawled into the Nijiya Market to grab a snack to eat.

My body was tired and I slugged around the aisles like a war hero with one too many bullet holes in his chest. Pocky sticks here, Choco Gummies there, and a bag of soda candy. After filling my shopping cart 1/5th of the way with snacks, I decided to load up on drinks. Hmmm…what to get….

“Can I help you find anything?”

Me: Yea ummmm, where is your–

And at that moment…

I looked up, and saw where that heavenly voice was coming from.




Me: Yea, I’m just looking for the Milk Teas.
Cute Black Girl: Oh, they’re riiiiiiiightttttttttttttttt…………here!
Me: Oh! Thank you!
Cute Black Girl: Is that the right one? We also have a few other brands in the backroom if you want.
Me: No no, this is fine. Thank you very much (looks at her name tag) Fuchsia.
Fuchsia: You’re welcome!

I could have left. Maybe I should have, in order to let her get back to her work – but I didn’t. No one was in the store, and I figured I’d keep Fuchsia company for a few more minutes.

Me: …Slow night?
Fuchsia: Yea, everyone is out for Valentines day. I guess it sucks but I enjoy the peace and quiet. My manager lets me look at the magazines just as long as no one is in the store.
Me: Hey! Whatever kills time, right? I’m Ranier by the way
*Shakes hand*
Fuchsia: Rainier… as in Mt. Rainier?
Me: Haha yea, although mine is spelled differently. It’s actually a–
Fuchsia: A Filipino name, right?
Me: WOW… how the HELL did you know?
Fuchsia: I’m trying to learn Tagalog and in my textbook, one of the characters is named “Ranier.”
Me: Damnit! I thought I the only Ranier in the world! haha
Fuchsia: It’s still a beautiful name though 🙂
Me: Oh please! Fuchsia? Now THAT is a pretty name! 🙂
Fuchsia: Thank you 🙂 Well, I better get back to work. Someone just came in.
Me: No no, go for it. I’ll see you around. Maybe I’ll come by again and try out those other Milk Tea brands.
Fuchsia: I work the night shift.
Me: I’ll keep that in mind.
Fuchsia: 🙂
Me: 🙂

And just like that… Valentines day was romantic again.

….. I wish this story was true -_-

How I met my future wife: Sally (fiction)

Have you ever looked at someone, and for a few minutes, you imagined your entire life with them? Have you ever done that with someone you’ve never met?


After work, I drove down the boulevard as the city lights began stretching into beams of color inside my blind-spot. The night, unraveling itself like a vine, was growing immense. I could feel it. Something was going down tonight and I could feel it. Arrogant of the voices in my head, I strolled into a nearby bar.

My hand nudged the door handle which flung open and for a split second, everyone looked at me: the bartender, the three or four gentlemen at the bar, the various dark figures siting on the tables near the stage, and the lady near the jukebox. For that split second I felt as if time  had stopped and I was on stage. But after that long split second, time commenced and everyone continued drinking vodka, talking about nothing, and listening to the singer on stage.

I slouched into a stool by the bar.

Bartender: *nods his head upward*
Me: Martini with a twist of lemon
Bartender: sure thing boss.

I began tapping my fingers in a rhythmic motion on the bar top as I waited impatiently for my drink. The bartender flipped a square napkin in front of me and placed the frosted beverage before my jittery fingers – “here you go boss“. I could tell he was being sarcastic. Apparently, anyone who walks into a shitty bar like this, dressed in a suit, is asking for trouble. Like I give a damn…

And just as my lips grazed the tip of the drink, close enough to breathe in the cold air from the beverage, I heard a noise. Distant at first, I turned around to see what this beautiful sound was. It came from the stage, but unfortunately, the shadowy figures were blocking the source. I ignored it and loomed my lips closer – which was again, interrupted by a voice. By now, I was irritated so I stood up to see what this creature was who was disrupting my religious moment.

As I walked closer to the stage the outline of a woman was visible. Slender hands placed up and down the neck of a cheap acoustic guitar, and shiny black hair – but I still couldn’t see her face, which was obscured by some giant person in the front row. And in a moment of sheer magic, which seemed very Obi Wan Kenobe, he got up and went to the bathroom, as if I communicated with him through ESP and told him to “get out of the way”.

She was rather beautiful – until she began singing, which made her even more attractive. It was raspy, yet smooth; gentle, yet aggressive; innocent, yet completely sexy. Norah Jones meets Marilyn Monroe. I stood there, blocking three or four people, gazing at this woman – not to mention, I was letting my drink sit out, begging for it to be tampered with by the bartender. But I didn’t care.

Singer: “…for you.” Thank you all for being such a good audience. Catch me next Wednesday at the Rossa Lounge. Goodnight, and drive safe.

A modest applause filled the room which was followed by the sound of more talking, more drinking, and the rustle and bustle of the singer packing her guitar. I walked briskly towards the bar, grabbed my drink, picked out the lemon peel, threw it onto the napkin, and swigged the entire thing in one gulp. My eye squinted in pain as I set the glass back onto the table. The bartender stared at me. But I didn’t care – I needed it if I was going to talk to that woman. Fumbling through my pocket I found some bills and placed a $20 on the bar and said “Thanks, boss.”

At the corner of my eye I saw the front door wide open, then I saw the stage empty, and I walked outside. The scent of cold air filled my nostrils and woke me up inside. Where did she go? She was carrying her guitar in the case so she couldn’t have gone too far. And just then, I inhaled a whiff of cigarette smoke from behind me – I turned to look.

Me: Didn’t you learn in school that smoking is bad?
Her: Didn’t anyone tell you that speaking that way to strangers is rude?
Me: Nope. My momma didn’t tell me
Her: Haha…
Me: I saw that act up on stage. I must admit, I was quite impre-
Her: Oh yea? Let me guess: you thought I sounded amazing and now you want my number, right?
Me: Well don’t get ahead of yourself just yet – but yea, something like that.
Her: Sorry, I don’t date suits.
Me: I’m not a suit, it’s my cover up. I’m actually a VICIOUS and CRUEL writer!
Her: *choke* haha…you’re funny.
Me: It’s my job. I’m in the advertising business, I have to be witty and funny.
Her: I thought your job was to lie to people and make them buy shit they don’t want?
Me: Whaat?! Nonsense! I don’t make people buy shit they don’t want, that’s a Salesman’s job.

Her: What’s your name?
Me: Ranier.
Her: Like the Prince?
Me: Haha yes. Or if you’re like all the other people in the world “Ranier? Like the beer?”
Her: Really?! That didn’t even come to mind.
Me: And yourself?
Her: Sally
Me: Very 50’s. I like it. So Sally, can I interest you in a bite to eat?
Her: At 12:30am? What are you crazy?
Me: Nah, just hungry.
Her: But everything is closed by now.
Me: You must not be from around here huh?
Her: New Jersey. But I was born in Barcelona
Me: Well, people in Barcelona eat late at night, right? Come on, it’s a nice walk

She threw the cigarette butt onto the damp street and crushed the burning ember with her burgundy heels. We walked through narrow streets, talking about what else? Music. Apparently, she moved to New Jersey because of an ex-boyfriend who wanted to start a band with her. Back in Barcelona, she had little money and the trip to the states was her only way out. So she took it.

As our heels clicked down the sidewalks I took a good look at her. She was fit, but not too skinny. Medium sized with sexy hips and a nicely shaped thighs (yea, I’m a thigh man.) Jet black hair that perfectly framed her face, and dark yet soulful eyes. She is, by a long shot, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever taken out (on a late night dinner after 12:30am.)

We walked into Broken Record and ate duck confit sandwiches whilst talking about me lying on my job, and her singing songs about ex-boyfriends, family problems, and politics. We grew weary, tired, and sleepy. “..hu..huh? What did you say?” she mumbled, with crumbs on her lips. I shouted into her ear, trying to talk over the music “I said I’ll take you home! Come on, let’s go!”

A bit drunk and a bit sleepy, she got up, and almost tripped on her own foot – luckily I caught her, right before her face hit the edge of the table. “Woowww! Easy now!” I said. “You okay?” “Can..can you get my guitar?” she whispered in my ear.

So there I was, walking up narrow streets, carrying a cheap acoustic guitar in its cheap case, with Sally piggy back riding on me. *Beep-beep!* The trunk of my Audi A8 popped open as I placed her belongings inside, then placed her gently onto a warm and cozy leather passenger seat. She drooled on my shoulder. But I didn’t care.

Me: Where do you live?
Sally: *zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Me: *softly grazing the side of my fingers onto her cheek* Sally?…Sally?…
Sally: *zzzzzzzzzzzzz

By the time I carried her to to my apartment she was fast asleep. Holding her warm body in my arms I tucked her into my bed, put the guitar next to my nightstand, and crashed on the couch. God…hopefully she doesn’t wake up and steal my shit….Oh well. I better get some rest so I can wake up and see how she’s doing in the morning. I knocked out the instant I hit the pillow…

“I..I hear something…I hear a sound…It’s…It’s familiar.” The sound was quiet, but not so distant. Morning light was prying through my virgin eyes as I looked up and saw Sally, rumbling through my fridge and taking my food. Unfortunately I was too damn tired to get up and investigate. So I just stood there like a blob, watching her make food while singing with that gorgeous voice of hers.

I saw her walking towards me so I quickly closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep. I wanted to see if she would do anything sketchy like steal my Banksy painting, or maybe rummage through more of my shit. But instead, she walked over, placed a tray with Jelly-on-toast, scrambled eggs, Coffee, fresh fruit, and orange juice, onto the coffee table beside me.

My heart melted as I opened my eyes slowly – to make it seem as if I just woke up – and looked up at her. She leaned in, kissed me on my eyes and said “Good morning, Prince Ranier.”

And that’s how I met Sally.

…I wish


[The most exciting attractions are

between two opposites that never meet]

– Andy Warhol