Jonny groaned inward and buried his head in his pillow. He fingered his two long, perfectly shaped bangs, making a mental note to later pick up some more Nice n' Easy Golden Chestnut 508 at the drugstore. Yes, he would rather use women's hair-coloring than to ever go to the salon again. The Lee Brothers convinced him to get it professionally done at the salon last time and it was the traumatic experience of his life. After spending hours on a chair, watching a tattooed, pot-smoking beefcake put shit-colored goo in his hair, he emerged with two, disheveled, unevenly colored strands. No, it was worse than that- they were FRIED dough. Or frizz. Whatever. Never again, that's for sure. They must be always kept in perfect condition. As long as Jonny had the bangs, he had the recipe for the fountain of youth. His heart rose alittle, feeling the power come from he root of his bangs, giving him strength to roll out of bed.

Fumbling around the bathroom, Jonny struggled to find his jojoba oil mousse from Shiseido. Ever since he started using that stuff two months ago, the percentage of azianchickies that have run their fingers through his bangs has increased from 34% to 38.72%. Anything to impress the ladies. After 2 hours in the bathroom, mastering the art of applying deodorant, he re-entered his room and opned his closet with a refreshed and renewed sense of pride upon seeing the neat row of jeans. Jncos jeans. The chosen pair today today was the 26-in. PipeFit Style #3.142857143. He has been moving up the ladder, from 20-in to 22 and now, 26, but he hasn't hit the big 3-0 yet. Actually, a week ago, he had secretly spent some time in a dressing room of a store, mastering the "3-0 swagger" without tripping. After three futile hours, Jonny decided to put nirvana on hold, and trudged home empty-handed. After all, he wants to perfect The 3-0 Look before purchasing, and embarassing accidents are simply not exceptable, even though the jeans has a length that has the Midtown Tunnel shivering in its East River toxins.

Jonny's attention shifted to his neat rows of nautical, outdoor, flag and emblems, and sport department apparel while poring over the dilemma for the day- Tommy or Ralph. He finally decided the gray-heather button-down with "TOMMY" written in conspicuous red and black. Even his 98-year-old grandpa would be able to spot Tommy, er, Jonny, from 10 miles away. Checking his hair one last time in the mirror he knitted his brows in that Azian-Without-a-Cause way and went downstairs. To allay the overload of fun n'games at the poolhalls, karaoke bars, and mall and living rooms across Aziandom, Jonny preferred to being his day on a dry and sober note with absolutely no exceptions- well, unless he ODed on Erasure. Starting the day on a sober note keeps his feet on the ground. While sipping his hot chrysanthemum tea, Jonny resigned himself to the odious task of memorizing those 30 vocabulary words he must know in order to beat Jackie Ho on the SATs. If he doesn't, sweet Jackie's mama is going to have a lot to say to Jonny's mama at the fish market. Pass the flounder, baby. He scanned the list of words... "quagmire", "ablution", "perspicacious", "sexagenarian..." Jonny liked that last word.