Hong Kong Bong, or, Who's the Racist?

My high school friend Stephany was in town a few weeks ago to interview at Kaiser Permanente as Pediatric Genetics Counselor (yes, this does mean I'm old enough to be in charge of important stuff yet am an assistant), a job that she got and is now moving here. I call Stephany Ster and she calls me Jenndee because well, it was high school and we were drinking a lot of Mountain Dew (then). Ster and I did an exhausting one day tour of LA, which mostly involved taking pictures of shit: Ster at the Hollywood sign, Ster with the donkey from Shrek, me getting molested by Beetlejuice, etc. It culminated in an abortive attempt at a typical Hollywood night on the town, i.e. Good Luck Bar 2 blocks from my apartment.
Good Luck is what I called "fortune cookie Asian," which to Ster might've meant totally authentic. They have drinks named things like "Hong Kong Bong" and "Orange Bang." We met her stepbrother Brett and his friend Jeff there. I was hoping Jeff might be cute until I was told that we would hit it off because although he's engineer, he WANTS to be a director. Umm... yeah. He was large and not cute. A few minutes in, a group of Asians sits down next to us. At this point I start to get really scared that Brett or Jeff or Ster is going to say something totally offensive, unknowingly sanctioned by me and my baffling choice of this racist bar for a night out with the yokels. A bit of background on Brett and Ster and Jeff:
Ster's dad is the star attorney in our hometown, and also a cock. He married this total bitch Jody when we were in middle school and had a bitch kid with one of those veiny gross tumors so we had to be nice to her. A few years ago, Richard left Jody (yay!) for his secretary of 32 years, Agatha (a-GAY-tha). Agatha is Brett's mother. So Ster and Brett have known each other for years and are now weirdly step-siblings. Brett moved to LA when his friend Jeff had a job for him at a company called Neutrogena. Am I painting a picture here? I am out with 3 people who accidently moved to LA without managing to fit in at all or absorb any non-hick culture.
So these Asians sit down. Two of them we never meet and eventually go off to canoodle. The other two are Janet and Channing. Janet works for LATimes.com and Channing works for FoxSports.com - they have a precious dot-com rivalry. We start talking about Heroes, I've blocked out why because I suspect it's because it has an Asian in it. Jeff brags that he predicted Hayden Panettiere's fame and advised Neutrogena to retain her as a spokesmodel. "Save the cheerleader, save the brand," he told them. I swear, he said those words. Meanwhile, he's calling Janet "Ryan" and I have no idea why. Brett asks Channing where he's from, to which Channing replies, "Canada." Brett is baffled and quietly turns back to his Stohli Raspberry and soda, this one a DOUBLE.
Miraculously, Janet ends up winning the race to be a racist by referring to basketball as "a bunch of monkeys playing with a ball," to which we reacted with equal parts horror and relief. She had given Jeff a business card of a guy named Ryan instead of her business card, which Channing was none too pleased by. Then Janet felt sick and ran off to puke up her Orange Bang and was forgiven by all. We threw Brett and Jeff in a cab back to Playa del Rey and I drove us home. It was the most exhausting night of my life. I drank two Hong Kong Bongs, an Orange Bang, and an Amstel, and was still sober from the mental effort of averting certain disaster.