I’m not a clubbing kind of guy, but sometimes the situation calls for it, like last night when the hormones took over, my girlfriend was out of the country, and all astrological signs told me I could get away with stuff.

My pre-clubbing routine was simple: bathe, put on shirt and pants, and walk myself through a mist of Febreze. Just a hint of it, as you want to keep the girl guessing.

I stopped by the bar first, eyeing an attractive girl sitting alone. I pulled up next to her, and ordered a Shirley Temple. I turned to look at her, my eyes tunneling into hers, and continued with my deep, manly voice, “Shaken, not stirred.”

“Are you a Chinese James Bond?” she asked.

“No, better. I’m the Gentleman Sir Kevin Kao, Ph.D.”

She chuckled, then sniffed the air. “Is that Febreze?”

Good, she had a sense of humor and knew her household products. That was a sign she would be comfortable cleaning my house while I made fun of her.

“What are you drinking?” I asked, over the loud music.

“Cosmopolitan!” she replied.

Woah, woah, woah. Red flag. I left the club in disgust, utterly disappointed that I could let myself get so deep into the heart of darkness. All I wanted was to meet a normal girl, not a fan of Sex and the City.

Living in L.A. without a car is a physical disability.

My new neighbors moved in last week. I’ve seen them a couple times, but other than that, contact has been sparse. As a Chinese person who has consulted his Guide to Proper Ethnic Behavior, I have accordingly holed up and not introduced myself.

When I was in an amateur street racing team, I went by the alias of RSX. It just simplified things, referring to each other by our most expensive piece of machinery. There was Civic, Lancer, and my best friend, Integra. His little brother, whom we let on the team because his mom made us, was named iPod.

When I was in the second grade, I was frequently bullied by a classmate who was 18, weighed at least 200 pounds, and had legs so hairy they could’ve been comfortable bedding for a pet rabbit. Her name was Tara, and she was big.