Tuna Shortage

I don't want to hear any more about Paris Hilton.

I'm in this market in Beijing. I've been here a month, looking, you know, for Inna and whatnot. France was a bust, the whole soccer star thing, I don't even want to talk about it, and now she's here, China, Beijing, somewhere, hanging out with this guy Frank Fong who she met at Hooters in Houston on a layover during that United Airlines computer shut down that got half of travelling American stranded at various hub airports which, maybe not coincidentally, are also major Hooters franchise cities and Inna wanted a t shirt.

Frank's not the Hong Kong guy I was going to hook up with Inna. I talked to him; Inna put him on the cell phone I paid for, he's fluent in English, and doesn't even do the thing with the l's and the r's. He's a product rep for a Chinese company that sells robotic floor cleaning devices. You just turn them on and they go and go. They stole the design from an American company who hired them to manufacture a similar product and some spunky Indian mechanical engineers reverse-engineered the American patent and improved upon the air sucking part and that was that. Anyway, Inna still has my backpack and promised to give it back to me in Houston, but she and Frank Fong took a red-eye to China and here I am in this market where the big news should have been the tuna shortage but, what do you know, I'm hearing all these Chinese people and they're like, "choy choy choy choy choy Paris Hilton choy choy."

Enough already.

I bought a goat head, though.

2200 yuan. I think I got a good deal.

But because I don't have a backpack I have to carry it around in a repurposed clear plastic sack that the guy at the goat head kiosk gave to me.

It's got this bright pink writing on the side:

Hooters.