The Chili Yin Chronicles

So just the other day the BF and I were on our way to dinner when we walked past our regular bakery. Naturally, we HAD to go inside to pick up some of their fantastic cheese puffs (Classy!).

Now usually, my eyes would be transfixed on the tasty selections offered, but today, a little more lethargic, they were flying across the space, judging everything and everybody in sight.

And there it was, the gem that was this poster.



Chilli Yin! I started giggling uncontrollably. Yes I am a bitch.

Who the hell names themselves Chilli, I thought to myself. I proceeded to tweet that exact question, which prompted such responses:

kiki_tina: SOMEONE WHO THINKS THEY ARE HOT!

MooMooCowMooMoo: Now now. Don't be nasty. If we can have Apple Ho and Cabbage Kuah, I'm sure Chilli Yin is a legit name.

Having let out ONE guffaw, the BF turned to me, "It's not Chilli, it's Chili. He's Chinese, it's probably more Yin Chi Li".

Suddenly it made a whole lot more sense. The four years that I'd spent living in Australia has compounded on my 'mental whiteness', which was already white enough to begin with. I mean, I've already started to unconsciously pronounce Chinese things the way white people do (the wrong way). Soon I'll be eating spring rolls with my fingers and having wine with my dim sim.

Seriously though. Cultural diversity is awesome, but a poster with caption that reads "A Fairy Party" in a large, swishy, sprinkly, pink font is PRICELESS. I bet you dem glittery gayz are going to be so disappointed when they find out that the fairy party is nothing more than a cake ad.