He's turning Chinese, I think he's turning Chinese, I really think so
When I picked Randy up at the airport, we stopped at a Starbucks drive-through. I ordered him his once-usual Quad Venti White Chocolate Mocha. One sip and he nearly spit it out.
"Ugh that's sweet."
Then he took a bite of my gingerbread and really did spit it out.
"What was that? Gingerbread? Like heck!"
You see, the Chinese don't really have a palate for sweets like we do in America.
Then a few days ago, we ordered take-out from the Hunan in Squirrel Hill. Randy naturally ordered his food extra-hot. He claims he could barely detect any hotness to his food.
Tonight, though, was really the confirmation that Randy is being Sino-ized. He was looking at a sculpture in Point Brugge where we were eating dinner, and was about to tell me about a Hai Tian artist when he caught himself, and realized the artwork was produced by a Haitian.
"Ugh that's sweet."
Then he took a bite of my gingerbread and really did spit it out.
"What was that? Gingerbread? Like heck!"
You see, the Chinese don't really have a palate for sweets like we do in America.
Then a few days ago, we ordered take-out from the Hunan in Squirrel Hill. Randy naturally ordered his food extra-hot. He claims he could barely detect any hotness to his food.
Tonight, though, was really the confirmation that Randy is being Sino-ized. He was looking at a sculpture in Point Brugge where we were eating dinner, and was about to tell me about a Hai Tian artist when he caught himself, and realized the artwork was produced by a Haitian.
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