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So, while walking thru a park yesterday, I came across a bootleg vender of Viagra. At first I imagined what kind of side effects could it have. If you experience an erection lasting more than four dynasties, please consult your physician.

 But then I start thinking, in a country where the population is exploding, why aren’t they bootlegging a pill to “Keeping it down”?
Maybe Chinese women need to be more picky about with whom they choose for their bootleg bootie call.

Take for instance, Mr. Somebody Stole My Six Pack.

Or, his cousin, Mr. Somebody Stole by Comb.

 

This guy needs a wake-up call, not a bootie call.

 

So does this guy.

 

Next, there’s the extra from Macklemore’s Thrift Shop video.

 

Sorry, but you’re not Prince Charming.

 

And Mr. Pimp My Ride? Good luck getting a girl in your back seat.

 

You think in a country with over a billion people, finding a Chinese Fabio would be as easy as finding a Chinese prophylactic…

 …flower flavored, yet.

The good news is,  there’s always American imports.

 

You think since 99.9% of all clothes are made in China,
that the women would dress better.

Take for instance, Miss Manga meets Mrs. Beasley, who kindly let me take her photo. She’s tried jamming a few fashion statements into something  that got lost in  translation. I just don’t get the black stockings and garter with JC Penney prints. Or the orange  hair. Or the Richard Nixon peace sign.
But thing I hate the most about this look are the
lens-less glasses. People with 20-20 vision go around impersonating Velma
from Scooby Doo.

Then there’s the frilly splashing in toxic water look. Young couples rent fancy clothes then wear them for wedding photos.

Then there’s the  classic  plaid/stripes combo.

Someday, this traditional Chinese garb like this ….

Will morph into this. The bootleg bag with traditional embroidery.

Meanwhile, my fashion conscious uber rich students wear doc martins.

And I have been known to dress like this: a faded Monet Lily pad T with an obnoxious pink floppy hat and neon yellow Levi’s.

OK. So I’m turning Chinese.

 

 

 

 

Just how drunk to you have to be to get a tattoo in China?

There are easier ways to die.

Hepatitis was probably birthed at this tattootery, a hole in the wall  located in the windy little
streets of Kunming, near the HUMP hostel.

The good news is, is if you need a liver transplant, you
probably can buy one somewhere in this maze, right next to the guy who sells
pig faces.

It looks like you can get a little acupuncture done at this ink shop as well.Check out the poster of the pin cushion lady on the wall.

I know several young westerners who got the Chinese version
of the tramp stamp, otherwise known at the Expat tat. Usually, they get their Chinese name placed around
their ankle to be different like everyone else.

This guy is getting his ink done in a place where he can’t see it. So
that begs for the question: why get the tat in the first place?

The only time I’ve been to an ink shop was in Chicago and
that was because a kid stole my wallet. He used my credit card to buy a nipple
ring.

 

Jeff and I once again slipped down the rabbit hole to China.
And just what did we pack in our 200 pounds of jabberwocky?
Along with 24 pounds of tortillas, thirty of Jolly ranchers and atomic fireballs, my bag was packed with tubes of Wineberry Red, Sugared Maple, and Sugar Spice, thanks to a friend who has a lipstick addiction.
Yes, a lipstick addiction. She keeps on ordering tubes online, which means her medicine cabinet is packed with more tubes of Chanel Hydrating Rouge Crème than Coco had herself.
My anonymous friend (who’ll I call DEEP VINTAGE WINE) also gave me a free gift bag with my “purchase”. It included a brand new pair of Prada boots. High heel, low cut, soft black leather. Oh yeah. They cost more than all of the shades  of Dior, Lancome, Urban Decay, MAC and Bobby Brown put together. Deep Vintage wine couldn’t return them and wanted me to wear them places in China where fashionable feet have never pounced. squatties, wet markets, Buddhist temples, the Great Wall, the stinky tofu stand.
But not stomping or standing on a western style toilet at the Kunming Airport.

So stay tuned for pictures from the Prada Cam.
Even if we didn’t pack  the girl glam, there were a few things that didn’t make it through customs inspection. They include:
A Whopper off the grill.

The San Clemente Beach.

Waves.

Mexican Dives.

The Herman Miller chair in our Chicago storage locker that I bought from “Jeff the Chair Guy” that started this crazy adventure.

Oh well. I guess we’ll just have to make another trip back.