...Or, at least, that's what the pimp told me...

Happy Chinese New Year 2009

Year of the Ox

Today is the start of the Chinese New Year and I'm not sure what the Year of the Ox has in store, but I did get this fortune over the weekend:

Fortunes about cunnilingus seem horribly inappropriate for a restaurant to be serving up. You don't even need to add "in bed" to the end of this one.

Misfortune Cookies

"Your bright personality will attract the best of friends." That's the message I got from a fortune cookie I had for lunch today. It sounds like it's making some sort of sage statement, but unless my personality is going clubbing when I'm not looking, I really don't think it's been making any new pals (or at least that's what the devil voice in my head keeps telling me).

Maybe if the cookies' Lotto numbers hit the jackpot on occasion, the fortunes wouldn't be so lame. So, I guess that's why the recent story of X-rated fortune cookies that were misdelivered to a Brooklyn charity is such a great news item. The event organizers had some custom fortunes made to tout their city, but 350 of the 1,750 cookies were delivered with dirty messages on them. And I'm not talking about 350 dirty messages where you and your friends tack on "...in bed" after reading the fortune.

I looked up some places that sell naughty edibles (Boobie Cookies, Penis Sexy Snack Cookies) and one of the X-rated fortune cookie messages they quoted in their catalog read, "Big cats are dangerous, but a little pussy never hurt anyone." ...In bed! Ha! Double dirty! Me-yow!

Now, here are some examples of the pro-Brooklyn messages that the charity organizers intended for their cookies: "Brooklyn -- it's like an everything bagel" and "Brooklyn -- The 10th Planet." ...In bed! Ha ha! Bagels in bed! A planet in bed! I'm not even mildly turned on! ...In bed! Wait, none of this is working at all.

Those are the worst ancient Chinese secrets I've ever heard in my life.

photos by Jason ...in bed!

The point is that dirty fortunes are more fun to read than boring ones. The charity dinner would've been a forgettable non-event if it weren't for the Cinemaxed messages, and if my after-lunch cookie was raunchier, I might've been a mildly-amused Lotto non-winner. Plus, you can't spell Confucianism without "F-U." ...In bed! No, wait. That still doesn't work.

Fortune Cookie Self-Discovely

I like to think that I'm pretty secure in who I am, but yesterday I discovered something about myself that I'm not sure I like. See, I was born in 1982, which in the Chinese calendar is the Year of the Dog. Every time I'd go to a Chinese food place and look down at my little paper placemat, I'd read the little description of the Dog in the Chinese zodiac and nod approvingly:

"People born in the Year of the Dog possess the best traits of human nature. They have a deep sense of loyalty, are honest, and inspire other people's confidence because they know how to keep secrets. But Dog People are somewhat selfish, terribly stubborn, and eccentric. They care little for wealth, yet somehow always seem to have money. They can be cold emotionally and sometimes distant at parties. They can find fault with many things and are noted for their sharp tongues. Dog people make good leaders."

That's from here.

Do I exhibit the best traits of human nature? You bet your ass I do! Do I have a deep sense of loyalty and honesty? Do I inspire other people's confidence because I know how to keep my trap shut? Damn straight! Some of that less flattering stuff is kind of true--I suck at parties, for instance--but that last bit about being a good leader is certainly correct.

So what's the problem? Well, according to Blogger, I'm not a Dog, I'm a COCK! (They say "Rooster," but I've seen "Cock" on plenty of those paper placemats) What the hell?! "Why is Blogger so wrong," I asked Jenni and Jason. Then Jenni goes and turns my whole world upside-down. See, I was born in early January, and since Chinese New Year isn't usually until at least mid to late January, it was still the year of the Cock when I was born. "Humbug," I exclaimed! Surely Blogger must be wrong!

So, as with all big questions about life, I turned to the only true source of wisdom in this world--the Internet. Doing a quick Google search for a Gregorian to Chinese calendar translator, I came up with this page. I put in my birthdate and was shocked.

"Year of the Chicken"

DAMMIT!

So basically my whole damn life has been a lie! I've been duped by the false simplicity of a paper placemat into believing I'm something I'm not! This whole time I thought I was a Dog, and I'm really a big, fat, late-year Cock! So what's the description of the Cock? I'm taking this from the same place I got the Dog description.

"People born in the Year of the Rooster are deep thinkers, capable, and talented. They like to be busy and are devoted beyond their capabilities and are deeply disappointed if they fail. People born in the Rooster Year are often a bit eccentric, and often have rather difficult relationships with others. They always think they are right and usually are! They frequently are loners and though they give the outward impression of being adventurous, they are timid. Rooster people's emotions like their fortunes, swing very high to very low. They can be selfish and too outspoken, but are always interesting and can be extremely brave."

Okay, this thing is WAY off. Sure, the "deep thinker," "capable" and "talented" apply, but some of this stuff is just plain wrong. I am not "eccentric," for example. I wish I was. I'm painfully "normal" actually, to the point of being boring. I am pretty much always right, something I would point out to Jenni is NOT in the description of people born in the Year of the Rat. I'll buy the "loner" and "timid" stuff, although I don't even front about being adventurous. I am definitely not "selfish" or "outspoken" or "interesting" or in any way, shape or form "brave."

So what the hell am I supposed to do now? My whole life I lived in the comfort of knowing I was a Dog. That was my identity! All of my friends are Dogs, that zodiac is diametrically opposed to people I hate, it's perfect! But now everything is topsy-turvy! Do I need to be more selfish now, less like a Dog and more like the Cock that has apparently been waiting 24 years to burst forth into my life in all of its throbbing, thrusting, pulsating glory? I'm sorry, but this whole realization that I'm a Cock might be too much for me to swallow.