The Latest Adventures of the Holiday Inn...

That's right. I can speak about the Holiday Inn because I now live there. Yeah, you heard me. I live at the Holiday Inn in Sydney's Chinatown.

If you're thinking right now,"Man, that's about five steps away from being homeless," then you're right. But it's more like four steps depending on how much credit you still have left with American Express.

To my friends that live in New York, I have a little advice for you:

Don't ever leave New York. I repeat: NEVER. LEAVE. The grass, in fact, is NOT greener on the other side. I repeat: NOT. GREENER. And think about it - grass requires mowing. Stick to the concrete jungle. Less maintenace. And I mean that on multiple levels.

In the meantime, please send money and good wishes my way. I don't play an instrument, but if I can find some buckets in the maintenance closet at the hotel, I'll beat on those and take up busking as a part time profession. Seriously. New low folks. All-time new low.

Rooster = Jokes about Cock

I was just reading my little Blogger.com bio, and since I entered in my birthday the site automatically lists my Chinese calendar animal. As such, I was just reminded of how my sense of humor really hasn't changed since 1990.

I think I was in the third grade the first time my family took me to a Chinese restaurant. I distinctly remember the paper place mats that list out the animals that represent your birth year. I'd like to think that at the age of 8 years old, I wouldn't have spouted off some cock joke after learning that 1981 was the year of the Rooster. I'm sure I didn't make any comment on this level until at least high school (possibly middle school) (possibly the fourth grade). This blog doesn't really have a point except that according to the Chinese, I'm a cock. Enough said. I also have a long history of getting crappy/boring fortunes inside my fortune cookies. So apparently the Chinese hate me on multiple levels.