OH MISS, OH MISS!

And on second thought, I'm not going to say a damned thing. It may be the warmest garment she has. But I still think there is something mighty odd about it. Baggy pink sweat pants with the word 'grease' all across the buttock end, possibly in misguided reference to American culture, just ain't right. Mighty interesting. Not right.

But I am too discreet to mention to her that, um, this is eyebrow raising.

Plus why is that white guy staring at my bottom!?!

Nor will I mention it to my apartment mate; she does not need to know that her people's clothing choices have once again staggered all expectations. She has despaired over Chinese American habilimentary style since she outgrew it herself, in her early teens.
When she started buying her own garments instead of relying on her mother.

Baggy pink sweatpants. Grease.

Besides, it was cold -- under fifty degrees -- and wet. The main concern was hypothermia rather than fashion eccentricity. As a man wearing two sets of underwear and two pairs of socks I should shut up. In some parts of this country long johns and excess body fat are a survival strategy. It explains our fast food and why we are dying of morbid obesity, heart disease, and diabetes at a staggering rate. Baby, it's cold outside.
Two hundred excess pounds keep you alive.
Have some more fries.

The cold also extends to the Deep South. One of my friends is happy his heating oil got delivered so quickly, and we are glad for him, because unlike his neighbors to the left and right, heck, the average person in his entire state, he is not carrying two hundred plus pounds. He can't cut off parts of his own or his kinfolks bodies to burn for extra fuel.
His grits ain't swimming in a bucket of pig fat.

Grease.

Butter, lard, tallow, blubber. Drippings. Fry goo.

This is fatty pork weather. With ginger garlic and scallion, rice wine or sherry plus soy sauce, and both dried black mushrooms and salt vegetable to soak up the juices and cut the grease. Pinch of five spice, grinding of white pepper, a little sugar. Or a broiled chicken with lots of scallion, plus shredded ginger and black wood ears, and a little dried tangerine peel for a subtle fragrance. Either dish should be made wet, so that there is plenty sop for the rice.


Personally I can't wait for this cold spell to end. It promises to be mid to high fifties over the weekend, and speaking of fatty pork, possibly Ted Cruz will finally fly back from Cancun.
I hear that there are taco trucks on every corner. He ate well. And needs to lose weight. Damn I hate the cold.

Grease.



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