The Mascot Diaries. Part 4

Hey, I'm Yingyin.

People ask me all the time, so I'll just tell you that yes, I am a T1betan antelope. People are all like "Shit man, whaddaya think about the T1bet sitch?"

But i'm just like, whatever, 'cause i was born there, and i guess i'm T1betan, but i went to Chinese school with Chinese kids and teachers, so i don't really follow what the big deal is.
Sure, it bugs my parents, but mostly they want me to have a good life so they were pretty stoked when I got offered this mascot job.

The job itself is awful. All day i smile and wave at the kids, do somersaults, act like i've got an f'ing mental handicap. It's a painful existence. Faking it, as if it meant something. All day I count the seconds to nighttime. At night the other mascots sleep, but not me. I hit the clubs. I'm a dancing machine. Luckily i get to meet some pretty hot women through my hell-job.

And when the dj throws down some 50 Cent, everybody moves, everybody sweats, everybody gets it on. The girls see me on the floor and they know they want me. On the floor, the only thing that matters is that sexy moment. Chicks and I move in unison to grinding basslines and beats. I can forget everything else.

Then after a hot night, i have to put on the weary smile again and wave. Pretend i'm happy. Pretend the Olympics matter. Count the hours. Count the seconds.

Then come night I dance.
Come day, I die.
Night, I dance.
Day, I die, I die, I die.