Underpants On The Outside

Several days ago I got home from work and there was a white envelope sitting on my pillow. Wonder Woman was out of town for a couple days, but, being the sweetheart that she is, she left behind what might be the nicest, most thoughtful card I have ever received. It was personal, so I don’t want to get too into it, but suffice it to say it was a list of all the great things about our relationship, the little touches and moments that I would probably take for granted if not for nice little reminders like that.

And yet… I couldn’t read it without a slightly sour taste in my mouth. Possibly because I don’t usually associate “love” and “making fun of Asian people.”

The card: on the front is a drawing of a bowl of brown soup, and floating in that soup are several small white cubes, which all appear to be quite happy. At least that’s what I gather from their facial expressions, which consist of two lines for eyes above one big smiley curve. Below the bowl of soup is the caption, “Miso happy to have you.”

MISO HAPPY TO HAVE YOU. Good lord.

Now, to be fair, I consider myself something of a specialist when it comes to the offensive joke. I’ve made my fair share of off-color humor. But after years of apologies I thought I was supposed to leave ethnic jokes out when I’m composing sweet nothings to my lady. Now I realize that arbitrary standards like that have kept me from a lucrative greeting card career.

What’s worse is that several times last week Wonder Woman told me that she had found the perfect card for me. I figured it had Batman on it, or some math jokes. Or maybe some tits. If there ever were such a thing as “the perfect card” for me, those things would be far more likely to be on it, being things I like significantly better than racism.

To be clear, I don’t find this joke “offensive” per se. It’s just that I know that that is not a joke I’d make in public, and I joke about blow jobs and ass-sex in a space frequently read by my mom. That’s gotta mean something.