On Saturday I woke up feeling lousy...you know, it's a disturbing ache somewhere in you but you don't know exactly what or where it is to fix it. I was expecting a pretty bland weekend. There's a t.v. lounge here on campus and lately the N.C.A.A. (College Basketball for those unfamiliar) Championships have preoccupied me. I don't particularly follow one team. In fact, I don't even watch any sport on television until it gets down to the nit and grit of The End...the playoffs (basketball), cup play (tennis), world series (baseball), supremium bowl (pronounced with an Indian accent ...the finals for the sport of "cricket") I am not making that up...alright...I am, but I am sure there is such a thing as championship cricket, just dunno the name.
Anyhoo, there I am, kicking back with some munchies, my feet propped on a coffee table in front of me staring at the tube. I must have stared too hard, because out of nowhere a strange image appeared before me. It was a picture of a full-grown, 300 lb. Korean, female sumo wrestler showcasing, from each outstretched arm a sprawling, gawky, Japanese 8-year old. I was thinking, "What the heckeroo?" After a second to gather my senses, I look to my side and realize that the homeless-looking gentleman sitting to my right was volunteering my eyes (by placing in front of me) to a photo he had taken at the Asian World Summit. Strange things happen when you're not at home.
