WAMBAG S10E07: Ping Pong and Oysters

I sit in the middle of a large room that could only be described as a hipster wet dream. I am alone, nursing my beer. As if in slow motion, a bright orange ping pong ball whizzes past my ear and falls into my pint. I stare at the ball floating aimlessly, out of its element. Perhaps I should contemplate if the ping pong ball is a metaphor for my life. Instead, all I can think of is whether my beer is still okay to drink.

Goddammit.  How did I get here?

Let me explain.


One of my friends from work wanted to set me up on a blind date with her fiance’s best man’s girlfriend’s friend. I’ll give you a second to digest that. As if that wasn’t strange enough, she wanted it to be a triple date (with her, her fiance, his best man, and his girlfriend). And to top it off with a cherry, we’d go to a Ping Pong bar and then an Oyster bar. Since above all else, I’m always excited to put myself in stupid situations, I snap agreed. Of course, I’m pretty sure my friend, her fiance, his best man, and his girlfriend (henceforth referred to as “MFHFHBMHGF”) were more excited. You see, they are white. This mysterious girl and I are Asian. Secretly, maybe even subconsciously, I’m sure MFHFHBMHGF were hoping to assuage their white guilt for the railroads as they made the lives of two minorities better by bringing us together. Over ping pong.


Goddammnit. How did I get here? I had carefully planned to be 15 minutes late, and yet still here I was, the only asshole not playing ping pong with cultish fervor, or wearing fake glasses that are too big for me. Over in the corner was a pile of CRT television sets stacked on top of each other like a pyramid, some showing static, some playing the old Superman 1 movie. The place made me feel nauseous. Thankfully, MFHFHBMHGF eventually arrived. We started playing some ping pong. I know that genetically speaking, I’m supposed to be good at this, but I suck. It doesn’t help that I tried to shamelessly showboat and make tennis-grunting sounds whenever I hit the ball. As well, the HBMHGF part actually play tennis regularly, and watching them play ping pong against each other was like watching a couple of idiot savants play, minus the drooling.

In terms of the “primary objective” of the evening, I knew that this mysterious blind date was not for me within 5 minutes (or however long it took for her to open her mouth). Also, she kind of looks like an Asian Adele (she wasn’t that bad, but it’s how I would describe any Asian female above 90 lbs). More than 5 beers, that’s for sure! It was liberating to not give a shit, to be honest. No need to tell yet another anonymous woman I’d like to sleep with about how I deliver babies, and the miracle of life, and blah blah blah. It was all real talk, baby. Luckily, the HBMHGF part of the crew were pretty cool people, and my friend’s fiance “speaks the same television language” as he once put it, so I was in good company. In fact, he introduced me to The League. In return, I showed him the wonderment that is Archer.

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Oysters are a stupid food to eat. Luckily I have a gutter palate, so a gastrointestinal crisis was averted. Somehow, I always steer every drunk conversation I have to poutine, which made everyone crave fries. We then went to a place called Wvrst, which is some german sausage bar. Not a euphemism for gay strip club. The fries there were aight, but the best poutine in town is still the chip truck across from Nathan Phillips Square. I will knife fight anyone who disagrees. Before I left, the best man’s girlfriend told me, “I like you! You need to hang out with us more often.”  I tentatively agreed, because I do need more white friends so that whenever I say something racist, I can suffix it with “but some of my best friends are white!” I weakly acknowledged Asian Adele’s existence, and then left with my friend and her fiance. So not the breakout episode everyone was hoping for. Maybe the WAMBAG’s B plot was good this week…


In other news, the first time I played Mass Effect 3 multiplayer to up my galactic readiness (bullshit grind meter), I hated it. Now that I’m finished the singleplayer game, I cannot stop thinking about it. Even at work, I long for the chance to take the fight to the reapers with my adept “Aziz Asari” or my sentinel “Hulk Krogan.” Al, get on this shit with Max and I. Will, buy an xbox.

Have you guys ever heard of the SCP Foundation? It’s a repository of user-generated content that reads like technical documents describing the various occult artifacts that this secret agency has found and stowed away safely. It’s like reading the dossiers on all the items in that warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. The ones I’ve read off the top-rated list are stellar. May I suggest SCP-087 and SCP-093? Don’t mind if I do!

I will now leave you with the saddest thing ever. Gets me every time.


Oh hey, welcome back Jeffrey! How was your… oh, uh, ah. Oh my god, even his shadow! Look at his shadow! Ahhh.




Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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