I Don't Read Chinese

I know that I have an Asian name. But it's always funny to me when I get junk mail IN CHINESE. Funny that Peter never gets mail in Italian. They're never like, "Oh, he's Italian, so he's not going to know that the McDonald's is now offering a Delicious Coffee Drink unless we send him that coupon in Italiano."

The thing is, I don't know how to read Chinese. Well, except for some of the three hundred words I can still remember from my one year of Mandarin class senior year of college. The Chinese class for non-native speakers my Chinese friends referred to as "The White Man's Chinese Class."

When I visited Taiwan one summer, I had to explain to almost every restaurant waitress that I can speak, but am illiterate, so they would have to read me the menu and they were all, "Huh? Didn't you go to school?"

And I was all, "I'm in college!"

And they were all, "WHAT?" 

I appreciate the coupons, but one of the plus sides of being married to a vegetarian is that you don't really visit fast food chains that often.