Alright alright folks, the F Monger's back. I know there's been a lot of speculation as to where I've been, so allow me to clarify that yes, I have been dancing with the stars. Yes, this entire time. I'm pooped.

Last we spoke, I was in Europe gaining weight like Buddy Love when his potion expires. Now, I write to you from China where I have become a successful Indian restaurant / massage parlor / auto repair franchiser. Gift certificates for Massage Garage Mahal are available online.

"The Jing" has been kind to me thus far. Last night I attended an indi rock music festival behind a drive-in movie theater. Among expats and locals alike, I met Bash's friend Nick, an LA kid turned Beijing hipster who's working for NBC's Olympic research team. He's fluent in Mandarin and negotiates seamlessly with bartenders and locals which compensates for my floundering relationships with the same folk.

Afterwards went to one of the countless 24 hour restaurants here, where contrary to America, it's offering of around the clock service does not negate the quality of its food. When I fell asleep at the table and woke up with rice sticking to my face, I realized I had fully arrived in the Jing.