It was Christmas dinner with my brother’s extended family.  He somehow managed to stand next to me while I was chatting away.  I looked at him and nodded.  A moment later, there was a discreet nudge at my knee.  I looked at him again to see if this was really happening.  And it was.  We stood there, our bodies in contact.  No one in the room seemed to notice this PDA.  I decided to raise the stakes and moved my hands slowly up and down his back.  He looked at me and we connected.

He must have sat at the other table during dinner. No one  seemed to notice us, if they did, they were probably too stunned or polite to say anything.  After dinner and while the tables were being cleared, everybody dispersed.  He sat down beside me and lowered his head to my knee, nudging ever closer to my ahem…  His curly hair was soft to touch.  After a few more minutes of this, he went away again.  I was hard  mesmerized.

Dessert was cake and ice cream.  But it had an odd smell.  Then I realized what that smell was.  It was his scent.  I could smell it each time I raised the fork to my mouth.  It was all over my hands and sleeve.  Dog breath.  Stupid dog -  you some breath mints if you’re going to do anything with your mouth.  After I got home, I could smell that dog all over my jeans and shirt.  I stripped off all my clothes and threw it into the washing machine.  From now on, no more PDA with dogs.

Ben aka (#laytexduckie) tagged me with this 16 random things about myself.  I’ve done a couple of these before and always feel uncomfortable talking about myself.  But it’s Ben and who can resist anyone with his good heart, charming looks and a warped sense of humour?

1. While I work in the IT industry, I’m not a technical person at all.  I’ve somehow managed to survive.  I’m more interested in the people aspect of the business.  I don’t think my next job will be in the IT industry, I got into IT by accident and it’s not my passion.

2.  I can speak very basic Cantonese (dad says I speak it with an accent).  I can write some basic Chinese characters (numbers).  I speak even less Mandarin.  I can sort of understand Toisan. 

3.  I may be gay but I’m missing a few “gay genes”.  I have absolutely no sense of fashion.  I was mistaken for a homeless person before.  I thought I was dressed shabby chic.   Don’t ask me for decorating tips either.  Once you’ve seen my place, you’ll understand.  Dancing and singing aren’t in my genes either.  I think if I ever went to a club, the bouncers would slip me a $20 to leave. 

4.  Facebook – sorry, I don’t do Facebook.  Which means I’m some sort of deranged sociopath who will stalk, rob, murder and then blog about it. 

5.  I have another secret blog.  Just kidding. 

6.  Automatic vs manual?  It‘s manual (standard) for me.  I like the feeling of being in control and being a bit more aware of what is happening around you.  I have yet to master the art of heel toe downshifting though. 

7.  Pain – I have a very low pain tolerance.  Don’t nibble on my nipple.  I’ll watch S&M but you won’t catch me doing S&M.  Whenever I get an injection or go for a blood test, I have to mentally control myself.  A visit to the dentist (unless it’s just a checkup) will send my blood pressure rocketing. 

8.  Prior to blogging, I never was interested in writing.  There’s something about crafting a story that fascinates me.  I love how words can heal, hurt and humour (this is the Canadian spelling of humor).  Words can reach into your heart, tickle it, touch it and tease it.  A good writer can conjour up images, emotions and keep you engaged as you walk through the storyline. 

9.  It’s only #9?  Why did Ben ask for 16?  Who is Ben?  Why do I like him?  Well – he does have a crazy sense of humour.  And so do I.  I don’t mean a sick sense of humour.   But witty, creative, bizzare, silly, juvenille, slapstick, dry… I love them all.  If you can make someone laugh, you have a special gift.  Laughter can help heal too. 

10. I remember as a kid wondering what it would be like to have the power to be invisible.  But I was a smart kid.  What would happen to my clothes?  Since they can’t be invisible I logically concluded I would have to be butt naked.  This of course led to a lot of unhealthy fantasies for a young boy.  And no, I’ve never been to a nude beach. But if I was invisible, I would stalk all of you.  As you’re reading this, I’m standing right beside you with an invisible iPhone  iPad to protect my modesty.

11.  I’ve never been in a fight in my entire life.  It’s not something I’m proud of.

12. Cat or dogs? I like cats.  Meow… purr…. hiss.

13.  I’m sure I turned gay when I was a young boy.  I poked at the breast of a rather well endowed aunt and asked “what are these”?  My mom was standing beside me and slapped my hands off her breast.  I was so surprised and hurt.  Why can’t I ask? If I had to touch a woman’s breast now, I know that memory would come back and haunt me again and again.  That’s why I swing the other way.  I’d probably run away if a large breasted woman came after me.

14.  Is it #16 yet?  Holy cow… I never learned to ride a bike until I was an adult.  We never could afford one.  You grow up quickly when you realize that it’s even senseless to ask your parents to buy a bike.  Once I learned to ride a bike, I lost all interest in buying one.  Well – it’s partly because I live in the downtown area and I’m paranoid about riding in the streets.

15.  I share more on Xanga than I do in real life. 

16.  Oh finally!  Oh wait, #5 wasn’t a fact.  I like watching car racing although I don’t follow F1, Indy Car or Nascar every week.  I just don’t have time.  But when I’m behind the wheel of my shopping cart at the supermarket, I’ll race you to the cashier.  But I’ll do it very discreetly and smile at you when I cut you off.  If you’re tailgating me, I’ll fart.

17.  I like rice.  I’ll have white rice with my fried rice.  I’ll have rice with rice noodles.  Congee and rice – why not?  When I was growing up, my parents would always urge us to finish our rice and reminded us how fortunate we were to have rice.  It’s hard for me to leave a partially eaten bowl of rice behind in a restaurant.  Unless I’m really, really full… *burp*

So there you have it.  16 random facts about me.  I was going to include a picture of me but I can’t find any.   I have to tag others but I’ll leave it up to you to take on this challenge.

I was roasting some chicken legs the other day.  I usually pull the meat out and use the bones for stock.  I saved most of the meat for my dad and my sister.  This is what I usually do on Sundays.  I try to make one meal and/or one soup (usually Chinese soups) for them.  It saves both of us a bit of time during the weekday.  As I peeled the chicken skin off, I noticed how the skin was nicely browned.  I knew it would taste good.  It was just salt, pepper, garlic powder and a bit of paprika.  I drizzled some olive oil on it as well.  Although I let the chicken rest for about 10 minutes, it was still hot.  Almost all of the fat from the skin was already rendered. I was so tempted to just try one. I just have this weakness for crispy skin – e.g. the crunchy skin from a roast pork

But I’ve been trying to eat healthy foods lately.  I’m not always successful though.  But I knew if I ate the chicken skin it would just go to my waist.  So I use one of the oldest tricks in the book.  If I eat this, my dick will shrink.    That seemed to do the trick.  My male ego took control and said NO. I just took the skin, bones and used it to make chicken stock.  (I skim the oil off).  I worry though that at my next physical, my doctor will be thinking “I think Matt has been eating a lot of chicken skin.”  Of course she’s too polite to say anything to me.  It doesn’t help that her office is right beside a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. 

The evil chicken skin:

Sorry for the juvenile entry.  My brain isn’t functioning properly.

Snippets:  a collection of senseless tidbits strung together incoherently.

1.  I go to this Chinese barbershop where the staff the staff always answers the phone in Cantonese.  The barber who cuts my hair always chats with me in English.  But he seldom answers the phone.  So before I call to make an appointment, I have to mentally rehearse what I want to tell them when I call.  One time I didn’t rehearse and almost asked to make a reservation for a table.  This time, my barber answers the phone.  But my mouth is already babbling in faux Cantonese and i made an appointment.  After I hung up, I realized he didn’t even ask my name.  As he was snipping away, I asked him if he knew that was me that called.  He said “No, I didn’t recognize your voice.  It sounded like a westerner calling.”  I scowled “But I was speaking in Cantonese to you!”.  He sort of shrug and diplomatically replied “Oh… you sound different on the phone.”  Somewhere up there, my mom must be shaking her head.

2.  Air conditioning and I don’t get along. I just can’t stand a cold room.  The place I’m working at lately has bone chilling AC.  I have to go outside to warm myself.  I actually wear a light sweater indoors.  It’s the same at my dad’s place.  I always have to reset the thermostat when I get there.  If I don’t bring a jacket or sweater, I wrap myself in a towel.  Even during the heatwave, I would bring my laptop out to the porch and work there because it was more comfortable.  But when I sleep, I prefer a cool bedroom where I can snuggle underneath my blanket. 

3.  Sleep and I continue to have a very tense relationship right now.  A few days ago, I went to bed early but woke up at 2:30AM and couldn’t get back to sleep.  I managed to sleepwalk through work.  Another day, I tossed and turn until 3 before falling asleep.  I wish my mind and my body would be on the same time zone.

4.  While navigating through a busy sidewalk, I noticed a woman across the street handing out flyers.  Normally this wouldn’t catch my attention but she was picky about who she was giving her flyers too.  When the light turned green, I cross the intersection and kept an eye on her.  She would scan around and then give some random person a flyer.  When I got near her, she walked up to me and gave me a flyer.  I looked down at it.  It was a coupon for gym membership.    ok ok.. I get the hint. 

5.  I never noticed this about myself before but I like to check out people’s toes.  I’ve caught myself several times looking at guy’s toes when they are wearing sandals, slippers or flip flops.  I don’t know why I like to look at them.  I’m curious what people do with their toes when they are in the throes of an orgasm.  Some clench them, so open them wide, some curl them…  So if you catch me staring at your toes and looking a bit distracted, you’ll know what’s on my mind.  Now that I’ve written this, I doubt if I’ll ever show my face to anyone here.  *reaches for sunglasses* 

(ed. note:  omg Matt… you have a foot fetish!)

I prefer to do my shopping at night at the local Asian supermarket.  I avoid the crowds and get in and out without wasting my time.  When I got there a couple of weeks ago, it must have been hairy Asian night.  The Asian guys with hairy arms, hairy legs & facial hair outnumbered the smooth skin Asians guys. While I don’t look like a werewolf, I don’t belong with the smooth skinned tribe.  So it was nice to see my brothers out with me.

When I got to the meat section, I asked for 7 chicken thighs in Cantonese.  The guy behind the counter responded in Mandarin.  I figured he was asking how many.  I had to count quietly from 1 to 7 in Mandarin (eee, err, sam, siii, wu, lieu …) and then my mind went blank.  He stood there while I gave him my famous dumb look.  I resorted to my fingers instead.  He nodded and said “chee” to confirm?  I think he is just tormenting me.  

Is chee = 7?  My Mandarin teacher would have whacked me for not remembering this.  I smiled and nodded back.  I figured if chee meant 17, I would just freeze what I didn’t need.  Such is the fate of jook sings.  When I got to the checkout counter, the cashier and the young man who was bagging the groceries were bantering in Mandarin.  I was next.  After she scanned everything, the cashier looked at me and just gave me the total in English.  I get this all the time.  Even when I used to buy Chinese newspapers for my mom.  I figured that would fool them.  Sometimes it did.   They would say something in Chinese and I would give them the dumb look.   The cashiers can pretty well know when a jook sing is in front of them.  When J goes to the cashiers, they just start talking to him in Chinese.  When I go up, 90% of the time they will speak English to me first.

I need to find a tribe to belong to.  Is there a tribe for scruffy, gay, jook-sings?  A minority within a minority – that’s how I feel.

I read with interest and fascination at the recent NYC Xanga Meet that Alex and others coordinated.  It looked like everyone had a fun time and it seemed that most people got to make new friends.  From what I can tell, most of these folks don’t blog anonymously like I do.  So if there is a Xanga meet up and most of my subscribers and the people I subscribe to attended – would I go?  After all, it’s my Xanga world.  But what would an anonymous blogger like me do?  I used to joke I would attend in a disguise or maybe send someone over in my place.  But I think some of you might eventually clue in.  

My imagination runs wild just thinking what folks might say.

“OMG – you do have a really big head.”

“Your head isn’t that big.  Your ego is.”

“You’re shorter / taller / bigger / smaller than I imagined.”

“You’re older / younger than I thought.”

“You look more Korean / Japanese / Thai / Filipino / Malaysian / Indonesian than Chinese.”

“Matt, you really look awful in that Cheongsam – especially with the slit coming up to your hips.”

What would people ask me? 

“So Matt, you wrote recently that you stalked folks online – did you stalk me?” 

“Yes I did.”

“You creep.” 

“I mean, I was joking.”

“You sick man, so you lied?”

As with any Xanga get togethers, there would be many pictures taken.  It would be my new workout routine – ducking, bobbing, jumping and trying to avoid those fast prime lenses.  Of course someone will inevitably take my picture.  “Mattie… how much will you pay me not to post your picture in my blog?”  Well folks, I pay in Canadian dollars which is worth a bit more than the US dollar right now.  I might go broke…

Maybe I’ll just have a meet up for Xangans that blog anonymously.  We’ll all sit in a room with our laptops.  But we won’t introduce ourselves to each other in person. We would all blog like crazy and try to guess who was who.  The only way we would chat is with that Xanga Meebo chat.  Oddly enough, this appeals to the geeky side of me. 

I think I need some sleep.

I’m a bundle of contradictions.

I have excellent interpersonal skills – with myself.

I’m a closet exhibitionist.

I’m a very quiet extrovert.

I talk a lot to myself. 

I always remember that I’m forgetful.

I love watching home repair shows but I never do any home repairs.  I can’t even find a manual for hammers and screwdrivers.

I also love watching shows about repairing cars or fixing up cars.  But the most complex thing I’ve done is an oil change.

I get daily emails from Men’s Health.  But I don’t have a six pack at all.

I am wary about revealing anything about myself.  But I wish you folks would reveal everything about yourselves.

I’m a very private person and paranoid about any online stalkers.  But I secretly stalk you folks. 

I’m a very honest liar.  White lies don’t count. 

I’m a very hard working procrastinator bordering on being a workaholic.

Welcome to my world where opposites attract.

I’m sure most of you have heard about the 100 mile diet.  The idea is to consume food grown within a 100 miles of where you live. What if it was extended to uhm… things you use for sex. I can just imagine the conversation.

J:  I’m feeling horny.

Matt:  I should let you know that I’ve signed both of us for the 100 mile challenge.

J:  What on earth are you talking about?

Matt:  We can only use things that were made within a 100 miles of here.  See that bottle of lube in your hand?  It’s not made anywhere near here so we can’t use it.

J:  Huh?

Matt:  No condoms either.

J:  What?

Matt:  Those are the rules, we can’t use anything unless it’s made within a 100 miles of where we live.

J:  How about this vibrator? 

Matt:  Sorry – that’s from Japan.

J:  I should get out your whip then and your leather gear.  I seem to remember that you got that from a farm just north of the city.

Matt: I’m now vegan.  So – no animal products either. 

J:  I think your brain has become a vegetable. 

ed note:  conversation is not real, this is just a figment of Matt’s sick imagination.

* * *

In other useless news, I used to crack almost every joint in my body – from my neck to my toes.  I don’t do a lot of that anymore.  But I still crack my knuckles and my knees still pop after I’ve been sitting too long.  My lower back will occasionally pop but it’s nothing like what I used to do. I found this on YouTube.  This isn’t me and he cracks his joints differently than I did.  But I like hearing that snap, crackle and pop.  You’ll have to crank up the volume.

Maybe I’ve cracked my neck one too many times.