I went out drinking last night with my brother, along this stretch of bars somewhere in Central where apparently all the expatriates (read: white people) hang out in Hong Kong. He knows all this stuff because he had a work term in Hong Kong last summer, but it was all new for me, and I have to say it was a little weird too see such a densely populated patch of land where so many people were afflicted with Yellow Fever. This is also something that got progressively more and more irritating as I became less and less sober.

(Quick tangent, for random hilarity – this American hero modded Left 4 Dead such that all the zombies sound like Macho Man Randy Savage. It’s brilliant because not only does it rate highly on the awesomeness scale, it also succeeds in maintaining a surprisingly high rating on the scariness scale. I don’t know whether or laugh or to cry – truly, the mark of greatness.)

I am not ashamed to admit that I was outdrank by my younger brother; I suspect that I am far from the first to be bested by his mettle. Although I will say that he does a much poorer job of controlling the volume of his voice when drinking than I do.

I’ve been keeping a small notepad the whole trip, just to make quick notes of where we’ve been and what sorts of nonsense I’ve bought (a fairly disappointing list so far, unfortunately), and I think it should be accepted as a standard practice for whenever you go drinking.

Looking at it now…apparently I was just writing down the name of each bar we went to, and the approximate time whenever we hopped. But by the third entry I can no longer recognize it as my handwriting.

I was also writing down tidbits of whatever we were talking about were really hilarious, and the first few are pretty legible (they’re all just about white people being fags). But there’s this one weird entry at the end of the page that reads “dog attack w/ more than 2 red articles of clothing” and I have no idea what the fuck it means.

Which is a bit surprising, because I don’t think we were even entirely all that drunk – it’s hard to kill that many brain cells just by pints of beer alone without hard liquor – but all the same…I hope we didn’t hit anyone on the way home.

(It would have been pretty hard – we took the subway.)

In honour of our night, I will now present you with the trailer for Stuff White People Like: The Movie.

“Don’t step on any toes.”
“I don’t step on toes. I step on necks.”