They Made Me Take Off My Shirt
September 11th, 2006(this title is a reference to a Handsome Boy Modelling School album which is in turn referring to some TV show with, I think, Chris Elliot where he says that line. (PoMo like a Mo-erfucker).
So one of my first days here I was sitting outside at a restaurant here on campus and some dudes were taking photo and video of another guy. Then they came over and asked me, of course I didn’t understand shit but figured out the basic idea and went ahead as they took some shots.
I gave them my height and dorm phone number cuz I couldn’t figure out what else to do.
And pretty much forgot about.
Until I got a call 2 days ago, I could just figure out that it was them (however them is) but they were speaking Chinese and I didn’t understand anything. Dude on the phone spoke quicker as he got frustrated which is understandable but not helpful and finally the call ended with them hanging up.
I was relieved.
Until the phone rung a minute later. They knew I was there so I answered and although someone was speaking some English nothing much more was understood and this call was also terminated.
Sunday the phone rang a couple times in a row. I did not answer. I went out to get breakfast a minute later and saw one of the dudes walking around – looking for me. He got some girls on campus to sort of translate something and I insisted that I needed to eat before we would go – apparently to measure clothes.
After breakfast and some coffee in a can I was feeling much better and decided in for the inch, down for the pound – and started to find the whole thing hilarious. On the cab ride to somewhere in Wu Dao Kou I tried to ask the guy what he did, how many people were in his family (a losing question for younger people in China – the answer will always be 3: mother, father, them. No siblings). This guy, Dong Zi, was amazingly patient and cheerful about the whole thing.
So we go to KFC to meet this woman who does the measuring and I get meaured in the middle of the KFC. I get Dong Zi to photo the experience.
Yesterday I take a cab to what turned out to be a television studio and find out they want us for a television commercial, an advertisement for some Shanghai clothing company.
We are all to be fashion designers in the studio together, our pet dog knocks over some paint onto a sweater (that I think I’m holding) and that patter becomes the new hot shit.
It’s a “slice of life”. You know.
So tomorrow I’m skipping class because this fucker’s gonna take all day partially because the dog is a wild card.
I’m getting paid and the other people in it – an older guy from Italy, a real cool guy from England, an American who’s lived in China for 6 years, an architect, some others I haven’t met yet – are quite cool.
I’ll let you know if this thing is as bad as I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be.