My New Roommate

Do you remember a while back I expressed my admiration for a certain promotional image?

From that entry:"I asked all the shops if I could buy one, but they all said no.

I'll just wait a few weeks." Guess what? I wrote that entry a few weeks ago.

And I was in Mongkok last week, looking for DVDs.

I found something much, much better.I love how I look like a jaundiced, aging pervert in this photo. My self-revulsion, however, takes quasi-second place to the comic value of the image; I hate myself in pictures and I want you to laugh at me, so here you go.You didn't think I was kidding when I said I would buy one, did you???

The best (or worst, for The Golden Rock) part was walking home with her from Mongkok Rd. to the KCR station. I wish I could have gotten pictures of the people looking at me. But I was polite to her and refrained from carrying her in a lewd manner, i.e. a hand in her crotch.

By the time I got to Tai Wai, I just wanted to get home, so I hailed a taxi and put her next to me on the seat. The doorman in my building seemed amused, but then again I'm the guy who spray-paints guitars by the rubbish pile.

A quick bit of work with push pins, and... ta daaaaa!!!Say hello to my new roommate, Kate Tsui: She still startles me when I come back to my flat. Best $HK40 I ever spent.

It's also the least I've ever spent to get a woman in Mong Kok.The navel alone is worth $ 400.See what I mean?The potential forscads of random Lars and the Real Girl-esque shenanigans is truly limitless. I offered to wash her back for her.

And her toes.

And her calves.

And her armpits.

And every other square inch of her.I should be so lucky.She's adapting to her new environment, and seems to enjoy my guitars."WOULD YOU GET ME DOWN FROM HERE???" I'd probably feel much worse if that stern look on her face didn't make me feel... well... like my guitar obviously feels:My stratocaster likes her too!Apparently, though, there are limits to just how much I can get away with.Someone's giving me the silent treatment.She looks angry, but I've been a good boy.If I'm lucky, she'll spank me anyway.Why can't I like women who smile?

Well, because they don't look like that, I guess...

Besides, I often forget she even has a head:It whispers to mein a soft voice that speaks lascivious volumes but promises less than nothing. And I think her hand moved. Sometimes, I'll pause the DVD I'm watching and just stareat her midriff, simmering only a few feet away.

It transfixesme.

But it also mocks me. It laughs at my solitude, at my age, and at my inability to reconcile my the heights of my education with the depths of my puerility.And I think that's what I like most about this odd addition to my surroundings; it indicts as much as it inspires. It's as sad as it is funny.It makes me smile just a tiny bit more than it makes me want to cry.

Just like damn near everything else in my life.