I’ve finally found a worthy alternative to pocket billiards. It’s called snooker, or as I’d call it, pool without pockets. Last Friday, my labmate took me to a Korean billiards joint in the Fenway, which can only be described as, in the words of 50 cent, “so gutter, so ghetto, so hood”. The entrance is an unmarked door between a gay leather bar and a porno shop, and the place itself is located in the basement past a series of poorly-lit corridors, kind of what you’d imagine a gangster hangout to look like. At the end, I concluded that I’m just not smart enough for snooker. Between all the spins, banks, follows, and draws, I was completely drained after the 2.5 hours it took to complete two games. The rest of the weekend was a good mix of work and play, though I dreaded having to wake up early on both days. I spent Saturday morning interviewing some high school students for college before a belated holiday meal with the lab over dim sum, where I served my usual function as the Canto-translator. We even made it out to a club that night (finally), which featured an eclectic but fun mix of dance music from hip-hop and old school rap, to 80’s rock and pop. Though exhausted, I scrambled out of bed again Sunday morning to chat with some Harvard pre-meds over Dunster’s famous Belgian waffles, paid a visit to the shops at Chestnut Hill Mall, and concluded with some warm treats at a Chinese New Year party over at Amy’s. I’m not sure how much longer I can handle weekends like this. It’s tough just thinking about going back to work today…