Monday, November 23, 2020


My apartment mate, like most Chinese American women who are in their mid-forties, idolizes Joan Crawford. Especially the murderous nut-ball Joan, an example of female empowerment and rage. White men, who are a far gentler breed, tend to be disturbed by this. Which may explain why there are so many interracial marriages; opposites attract.

An eighty year old friend is married to a Chinese woman. She's part of the anti-communist crowd, for very personal historical reasons, he's a sane and well-balanced liberal.
They voted for opposite ends of the spectrum three weeks ago.
I suspect that my downstairs neighbors, also a mixed married couple, are likewise in some ways diametric opposites.

As are my apartment mate and I. Neither of us voted for the Orange Pussball. But she is much more ladylike than I could ever be. Or would have any inclination for, if I were a woman.

I'd probably be like Joan Crawford.

A raging murderous bitch.

Good thing I'm not female.

Neither of us are married. I refuse to consider that her ex boyfriend ("Wheelie boy") and I have anything in common. During the years that the two of them were in a relationship, his existence displeased me, but I didn't have to deal with him, other than when he called to speak with her. But he must have had some good qualities; he had a relationship going on, and I didn't.
He's probably got a new girlfriend now. Some people are like that.
Both she and I are unattached.

Presently she's on the other side of the table in the teevee room, using her computer to read about lobster. Whereas I just finished reading the news after coming home. The stuffed turkey vulture is seated on a pile of books nearby, speaking with her voice (she channels for the critters), but not about lobsters. That is a different voice. Joan Crawford is on the telly. Which wasn't my choice, but it's classic movie I had not seen before, and if she weren't such a film buff it is extremely unlikely that I ever would.

Besides some similarities and a partial overlap of tastes, there are differences.

It is highly unlikely that her kinfolk realize that the grumpus with whom she shares living quarters is NOT an old college clasmate of the same gender and probably the same ethnic background, but a middle aged pipe smoking MALE (!) Caucasian who swills tea like there's no tomorrow. They probably don't know about the stuffed creatures either. They did meet Wheelie Boy on a number of occassions -- more than I did -- but I doubt they were particularly impressed.

I'd probably be lousy impersonating a Chinese American female, if it became necessary.
I wobble in high heels, and if I wore lipstick it would be a bold crimson colour.
More than likely I'd be highly unsuitable.
Daring and brassy.

Ms. Crawford.
I don't look good in women's clothes either.
Don't ask me how I know this.
Too angular.

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