Jon and Kate Plus Upd8

Fig 1. Self-cam with moose ears. Awkward, no?
Fig 2. Um, perfect way to greet guests. I want one!
Fig 3. To match my blogskin!
Fig. 4. I'm starting to like the minimalistic look. But take off that throw, and you've got a hospital bed..hmm..it feels like I've been chained to one of those these days.


So I realize the last post seemed a little Debbie-Downerish and didn't really make much grammatical sense so I've saved you the trouble of ignoring it by giving it the boot! :)

On to the important stuff. Like plastic surgeried girls who look like trannies to redecorating my bedroom.

But really...it's vital I air this out! After being in my bedroom for 4 days straight (I'll explain soon), I've noticed my bare white walls and the scattered things in boxes are a little too bleak-lookin for my taste. So, my new year's resolution? Breathe new life to my environment, if not by a change in scenery, then at least a reorganization of my material world (or organization would be a first step). You'll be the first to see the finished product.

Hmmm, while I nitpick the room around me, I mustn't forget how unfortunate my own circumstance was.



After a week of paradise followed by a week of torture, my cheeks have finally deflated to a small lump on my lower right mandible...alright...you're not my doc, but it's relevant..sitting around waiting for disfiguration and pain to go away especially on Christmas Day isn't exactly a dream come true.

By the way, my new favorite Youtuber----Natalie "communitychannel"; For the WIN! (my new annoying "in" phrase that I will casually slip into my everyday convo...or not.)

I don't know why this would matter, but I actually researched where Australian accents came from cuz I always wondered what accent it sounded like besides British. It turns out, the accent originates from cockney and Irish accents with some slang generously thrown in. Those Aussies, they love their litotes! Look it up, I'm too lazy to explain.

Speaking of laziness...in my reclined and restless state of post-operative loneliness, I was able to complete the following:
1) Check my grades (eek)
2) Check and reply to my 135 emails that came in all from my one-week to Hawaii
3) Freak out my iPhone not syncing and researching/restoring/resetting for 7 hours all to no avail. Time for the paid hackers to come to the rescue.
4) Read 3 self-help books to lessen my cynicism (become emotionally younger if you may)
5) Do some good ol' soul-searching, only to wind up freaking out again about my future...AGAIN! UGH, it's like a bad, bad disease. And somehow, knowing that there's a chunk of literature all devoted to demystifying the quarterlife crisis doesn't give me any consolation.

Oh one good thing has come out of all of this lounging/freaking-out combination:

I've finished Jon & Kate Plus 8 the First Season. And I hereby decide...2 MAX. When I see this woman go, it's like she's a programmed beast with endurance that outlasts Olympians. I wish to be that efficient at multitasking one day. But instead of babies, how about consulting cases or event plans?



For your viewing pleasure,
If your in the mood for warm fuzzies with a little screaming to boot, I can't stress enough how cute this show is. My fave sextuplet is Alexis! If only I could be 2 again..lol.



If you want a good laugh at the ridiculousness of material girls, I highly recommend a dose of Xiaxue on her Youtube channel. Her bluntness and fakeness crack me up. Oh and her accent when she says such obscenities makes it all the more delightful. Her blog, on the other hand, doesn't quite translate the same.

If you want me to shut up now...no.

Yet again, I'm pretty much done rambling. Haha..oh wait...

Goodbye 08! HELLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 2-0-0-9!!
*cue fireworks and confetti*

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Asian InvAsian

This has literally been the most played song on my playlist for the past week. Kinda weird, cuz its more of a club song than for karaoke-ing.."girls, girls, girls"...um stripper club? But his milky-bright voice (OKKKKAY..my adjectives are a little off today..use your senses..) is hypnotizing...especially in his UNBROKEN English!! He must've recorded each word separately or something...He sounds..almost...ebonic. LOL. At this pace, unlike Rain and Boa, I think he just might avoid embarrassing himself during interviews.

I hope Se7en's U.S. debut will be better thought out than Boa's though. SM must have paid a buttload to get that hideous song "Eat You Up" into the KIIS FM Jingleball lineup.

What is this?! "I'll eat you up..so yum yum"...ew..way to give Asians a bad name. We are NOT cannibals.

Hahaha..anyway..

Bite-sized update for y'all:
My hair is a few shades darker!, a "cherry chocolate" color according to Garnier.
I have 2 more finals tomorrow... :( I'm freaking out while everyone else is romping about, going out, and leaving me home to wither into my textbooks.

:(

BUUUUUTT...there is a light at the end of the tunnel! I'm leaving for Hawaii on Saturday! Can't wait to try new outrageous things..like snorkeling..lol..my lack of outdoorsy-ness is revealed at last.

Can't wait to share the fruits of my labor, aka souvenirs,when I get back in a week!

Happy Finals to ALL!

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Study Break Post

I hope everyone had a joyous Thanksgiving. How was mine, you ask? The youzh.

Hometown Buffet turkey dinner (mm..mm..gross). A few noisy bickering/muttering obscenities of the parents. And me trying to redecorate my room to avoid thinking about the killers outside my window and my door.

Every holiday. The same.

Killers.. I believe someone was shot across the street from my neighborhood. Killer #2: "If I brought you into the world, I sure as hell can take you out of it again"--Whoever said this...can you please tell my mother you were kidding? She's very impressionable. And she's watched a lot of crime TV.

Movies I'd like to see: Milk

Types of Blogs I'm currently reading: cultural, architecture, design blogs with fresh, modern, "abstracty-techno" designs, ones with a New York urban feeling
i.e. http://cedric-paris2e.blogspot.com/
(he's so crazy I love it)

http://parispopcorn.blogspot.com/
Things to avoid: celebrity gossip, annoying haters, ditzy people, facebook

BTW. how can people spend all day on facebook. There is so much creativity, inspiration, excitement!!! in the blogging world. I'm about to explore it a little more after lunch and a possible phone call to the mom. Is it time to reconcile? I hope so...

My disgruntledness with family matters has spilled into my friendships...causing me to be bitter, cynical, and downright mean. What happened? Did I used to take it all out on my parents and that's what kept me sane in my social network? Without a scapegoat/ranting-victim, is my dry sarcasm the carcass of my identity?? But who am I anyway? A girl with a "bitch"-face every time I walk into a classroom? Something I mistook for confidence? Let's just stop all this from forming into habit. Absorbing all the web has to offer has always placated an anxious, confused me. Time for a vacation...seriously.

I'm trying surround myself with people who really bring out the best in me and to stay away from those who bring me down. If that means being anti-social, so be it.

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Chaos Beckoned

I listened.

So, I've realized, I can't be the full package, a one-stop shop for all a blog-reader's needs. So it's time I started a new blog about beauty and kept all the skin rants out of the muddle. Me and my good friend Becka have been making makeup tutorials for a while, and we will be updating very soon!

Here's the link:
http://www.youtube.com/user/1YellowStiLetto

If you like it, subscribe! :)

And from now on, expect less talk of aesthetic beauty, and more of the usual nonsense! :)

Disclaimer: Title from Get Smart KAOS division...inspired. Haha.

-Signed, "getting smarter by the minute...not."

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Sometimes I feel like I AM Bridget Jones

I don't know if it's the recent ugliness explosion of my epidermis, but I am on a skincare rampage due to an insurmountable inferiority complex that can only be quelled by purchasing every gimmicky quick-fix at Sephora, plus the Laneige regimen system, some 15 different kinds of BB creams, and more. But..my shopping spree must finally come to a screeching halt. What am I doing--spending money I don't have?

In light of this unpalatable glimpse of poverty, I've begun a job hunt. Now, what kind of torture I am up for THIS time..

Stapling? Copying? Filing? Oh Joy!
No..maybe I'll sell my body on the street.

But wait, prostitution is never the answer. Instead, I can follow the footsteps of one of my good high school friends that I caught up with yesterday. In her free time, she makes jewelry, and aspires to start a bakery. That's it! I'll sit by the garbage can in front of the 7-eleven, beading little strands of thread and plier-ing microscopic metal coils together. I could definitely be Paris Hilton's new best friend. Ugh.

So I've decided I'm in the mood the learn "mixology", the fine art of mixing alcoholic beverages..aka bartending. And now, I will be a whopping 2 steps short of prostitution. But then again, as a good salesperson told me, every encounter is a form of prostitution and you don't need to take off your clothes to self yourself. Who was that again? Some chick on a street corner...

I'm bitter. It's the dry skin. Or the 4 a.m. bipolarity?? I hope its curable..then again..who's around to see it? Back to blabbering...

I NEEEEED A VACATIONNNN...STRESSSS IS TAKINGGG OVERRR MY LIFEEE..

Sometimes, people ask me "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"
Then I say "I don't know? I'm too busy?"

But the correct answer should be "I WISH! I want my Prince Charming to save me from myself..but at the same time I know I need to figure out my own life before I let someone get involved in this mess."

If this post is making you dizzy. Please stop. Compose yourself. Take a coffee break. Return with some fun insights. Ok, moving on.

I just watched the movie Get Smart with Steve Carell. It was surprisingly hysterical. While I heard the faint grunts and snores of the other 7 people in the room, I was too busy being possessed by Carell's sheepish, awkward charm. Ahhh.

Wow..this has got to be the first good movie I've seen in ages. Last movie: The one with 4 women?? It was so bad I don't even know the name of it. Oh yeah, it was called The Women (had to take a trip to imdb).

Anyway, while unsuccessfully trying to describe my favorite plot lines to my mother in broken Mandarin, (Wheeew that was a lot of prepositional phrases) I decided "Well, suck it, I'll just compile a list of my favorite movies for your future viewing pleasure mother, and save both of us the pain of trying to describe/decipher "concubines" and "love affairs" in my limited Chinese vocabulary. Ew, language barriers and generation gaps do NOT go together.

So here it is...a list, painstakingly compiled while backing up my hard drive onto my new Simpletech portable HD! (YAYAYAY, haha yea i know..nerd):

WATCHED & AMAZING
match point**
scoop
penelope
becoming jane**
amelie**
50 first dates
juno
the other bolelyn girl
the prestige
the illusionist
lost in translation
atonement**
love actually
a cinderella man
ever after
lars and the real girl**
enchanted
waitress
bobby

TO BE WATCHED IN THE NEAR FUTURE:
the diving bell and the butterfly
the jane austen book club
the kite runner
girl with a pearl earring
the duchess
stardust
emma 1996
charlie wilson's war
michael clayton
august rush
gone baby gone
PS I love you
pride and prejudice 2005
once
memento
the dark knight
ironman
the office season 1-4
pushing daisies 1
across the universe
entourage 1
tropic thunder
chronicles prince caspian
the namesake
sicko
persepolis
volver
dejavu
apocalypto
little children
half nelson
miss potter
mr brooks
the queen
the painted veil
roger and me
bowling for columbine
the big one
reign over me (adam sandler)
death at a funeral**
in bruges
into the wild
la vie en rose

OLD ONES: (#for watched), (@for need to get)
the lady eve#
the awful truth#
the philadelphia story#
bringing up baby#
his girl friday#
sleepless in seattle@
when harry met sally@
bridget jones' diary@
roman holiday@
motorcycle diaries@
y tu mama tambien@

Why the random list, you may wonder? Just cuz. Maybe you'll find it useful for your trips to Blockbuster or Piratebay. Thanks for stopping by, and if you have any miracle cures for my disfiguring "situation" please drop a line or a comment. :)

-signed, "decidedly dumber after watching get smart"

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You're a Walking, Talking Contradiction

Thanks for tuning in to another episode of "Little Orphan Annie Finds Her Way Home."

But unfortunately, we aren't airing our regular joe-schmo slapstick. Instead, I will entertain you with some fortune cookie wisdom that even Panda Express would be jealous of:

Some developments of the past 3 days:

Why is facebook the first thing I go to when I have to write an essay?
Confucius say: You fricking rebel. Do ya thang, and remember "What Would Kels Do?"

British accents make you sound smarter. "Hwatt-eh-vah"

Conjunctival hemorrhages are a beautiful thing. Vulnerability forces you find your real strength.

Life would not be worth living if you don't continue learning everyday.

Time heals all wounds. But scars never fade. *for some reason this came to mind, and I thought of Justin-Bobby. Oh Hills, how I missed the way you rotted my mind with useless, artificial thoughts.

Now....Global Studies. Go DO yourself.

Status on parentals: Negative, I would go as far as to say it has flatlined. My grandpa that I talk to once a week and lives light years away feels like more of a parental figure than both of my biological immediates combined. That's saying something. Love you grampa, you are my hero. (If you were listening/reading, I would tell you): no one else has ever believed in me as much as you have, trusted me as much as you have, and made me want to make the world a better place as much as you have already done for me.

Mother, there is nothing I want to say to you in person. You have already broken my heart, broken my spirit, and there's nothing that can bring that part of me back. The past few weeks have felt like a vacuous blur, with little to laugh, cry, think about because of how cheated I have felt. But I am an adult, I don't need you, and I don't think I ever will again. I will never be to my children what you were to me, a knife in the back, a slap on the face, a negativity that would have suffocated me to death if not for this "new freedom" you have bestowed upon me. You have been a wonderful anti-role model. And for that, I thank you.

xoxo,
Gossip Girl (or rather, Honest Girl)

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My Mom=The Asian Sarah Palin

So I've been un-introspective for a long time, and it's time to rewind, reboot, and reminisce a little while in the sphere of social voyeurism. After weeks of feeling detached with the world, I'm starting to miss the untethered, uncensored freedom of being a Facebook-whore/extreme blogger/techcrunch nut that was the me of 3 months past. Being a nerd never goes away, no matter how much MAC makeup I plaster to my freckly, fair skin.

For more drama than My Sassy Girl and Gossip Girl combined. Look no further than the titillating link below

So pretend you saw me on the street, wearing a face full of the most luxurious cosmetics money can buy, wearing a designer label outfit with a teacup pomeranian on my arm. Would you think, I like her style? She must be a rich bitch? or *Scoff* get a life?

Is that who I really want to be?
I think about it more and more..how much image can matter to some people, and to others be the most senseless thing to waste your time worrying about.

That..is one reason my mother and I had a falling out.

On one hand, I wanted her to have the nicest things, do her best to keep up with trends, look younger i.e. feel better about herself. From my point of view, I wanted her to find more meaning in her life than being OCD and wiping the same spot on the same window for the rest of her life. Instead, by filling her life with luxury items would distract her like it has distracted me from the reality of sordid, unending routine.

She thought, "Oh, I'm not good enough", "my daughter doesn't respect me or herself", and "what is the point of material things if it's a way of hiding the lack of morals and principles you have?"

She's always taught me to "zhi zhu chang le", meaning be satisfied with what you have and you will be eternally happy. It's like the saying "Love what you have and you'll have what you love" (or at least that's my version). Sorry for butchering all the common adages. My memory is failing, or it is on a very long vacation.

And when I see people for what they are, naked mole rats swimming in the images they want people to associate them with, I realize, I am more than that. Excuse my language please...I'm a fucking rockstar for having climbed the Mount Everest of emotional traumas and near-death experiences. I don't need a freakin' medal to prove it, and although I've covered up my emotional scars with a big heaping dose of "Forgetfulness Antidote" and some "Positive Affirmations for Dummies", nothing can erase the pivotal years of childhood...where everything that could go wrong did. So sorry, I can't be satisfied with what I have. I've bootcamped myself into thinking I can be better, I will be better, I have to be better.

SECOND REASON for the clash.
I get over things easily, and she harnesses the most hateful, vengeful grudges that surpass even that of "The Grudge". I used to have nightmares that she would attack me in my sleep like the little ghost boy. At least that's how it was when I lived at home.

Now I don't have a home.

Instead, I have a series of rest stops, you could say.

One: Tiffany's. I like the bear "head". I like to wear her clothes. Plus, she makes food for me. I like her roommates. It's almost home. But I don't have a toothbrush, so my rudimentary living style there defeats any chance of calling it a permanent living arrangement.
Two: My house. FOOOOOOOD. Luxury. Except...It's loud, some are unnecessarily obnoxious screaming banshees, and I have no privacy whatsoever.
Three: Westwood/LA/Big Blue buses. Sometimes I like to wander around aimlessly. Let my mind wander. Walk a little slower (that's really hard for me). And just people-watch. Having one-on-one time with myself helps me regain consciousness sometimes, when in the world of nonstop technological stimuli, I feel like a fish out of water..slowly getting the life drained out of me.
Five (cuz Asians don't like the number four, haha): Gardena, adjacent to the most crime-prone area of Compton. Where African-American and Korean gangsters loiter at the 7-Eleven across the street. I'm afraid to go "home" here, and since 2 weeks ago, I've been evicted completely...reason being..."You always say how bad a community we live in, how nothing's good enough, how you hate the decorations in our house. Fine! Don't come back!" - words of the wise...aka my ex-Mother.

*Scoff* "I didn't want to anyway"- but, don't I? Everyone needs a home. It's like an extension of self. I guess my current home, is my self then. Nothing else feels quite as comforting.

Being alone in the world is calming to me..like living in a little fish bowl, exploring the surroundings with my big fish eyes, seeing everything so clearly without the distraction of interaction. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I just want to see everything and everyone for who they are, take it all in, and decide for myself what I want in life, rather than being force-fed all this bullshit.

It's those moments of loneliness, where nothing in the world is bothering me, that I wonder, if I was a lone soul, no friends, no family (I'm halfway there) what would be the point of living? With no one to share in the joy and pains, or have a witness to the life you live, why would any of it matter? I would be a waste of space, a waste of resources, a floater and free-rider.

I wish I could write this junk that's clogging my intelligence into a song. I would sing it until it washed away the all my anxieties and replaced these feelings with a little label "remember to forget". Instead of pretending to forget every 15 seconds like a human Dory, I could wholeheartedly forget the selective things that needed to be forgotten. The day that someone could break the glass of my fish bowl will be the day I finally see the light. Literally.

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A Future in Law?

Am I meant to be a political scientist?

I often find myself wandering the halls of the Political Science department thinking, what am I doing here? Being creepy? Diplomatic jargon doesn't suit my fancy, so what gives? Besides my ineptitude at keeping up with the debates, what can make me my major (the major that's supposedly breeds the most argumentative assholes of a generation)?

Maybe one more year will. As I have sadly missed the resume drops of my favorite companies, I might just have to linger around for that fourth year instead of graduating after this summer. I might need it to find myself, instead of finding who I want to be (a thankless futile task if you ask me).

I think about my future like it's this big monstrous toad that is staring at me, waiting for me to attack it and conquer it. But yet, at each swipe, it moves a little further out of reach.

A combination of remorse, fear, uncertainty piles up, and its times like these that I just want to hide from that toad, pretend like it's just a figment of my imagination (which it is, but that's for me to see).

I'm approaching the big 2-0. And it's a crazy prospect to be out of my teens and on to full-on adulthood. At the same time I see teenyboppers who dress too old for their age, and I think...that's me. I'm who they are trying to be, but I'm already there. It's as if the person finally fits the clothes. But all the while, I'm losing all sense of why I'm here, in college, working towards a goal that is fading out of sight.

And then, while I'm wading in these mudholes of self-pity, I get these bursts of superhuman motivation that force me to flaunt myself at recruiters, send out a billion resumes, and answer interview questions effortlessly.

That person...needs to show up now....

Or else I'm going to Africa.

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Last post

End of the day feelings:

• 2 Political Science classes 10-5PM.
• Feeling fat after compulsively eating everything in the school vendor area for dinner. Name it, I probably ate it.
  
• At 8 PM my final review finally ended, concluding my neverending day, and the result of the review was stressing out even more about my test.
  
• Gym for major calorie burning -- 1000 to be exact -- and shifting my concentration onto something mindless for a change.
  
• Ralphs for food, and thus more compulsive stress eating (2nd red velvet cake this week, A RECORD!, and Lunchables). And I'm back to feeling fat.
  
• Now ready to partake in OPERATION "Make my professor not hate my writing style." It's not about how much you can bring to the table with your words and opinions, but rather, how well you're able to write what the professor..aka Dr. Right, wants to hear. I'm a people-pleaser. I can do it, but do I want to do it? Not particularly. I want to eat and think about life like a normal emo person and buy a weighted piano keyboard so I can play that new Shinee song. This process would be much more rewarding. After a nice sightread, I would no longer be emo, and more fangirl-y than ever. Instant Prozac. I hate being emo, it's like the bipolar side that I want to beat up and put in a straightjacket...efffin A. My roomate is talking on the phone, while I'm pretending to study. WHAT THE HECK. Rude. And now my eye itches. I'm gonna put some EVOO on it now, Goodbye.
  

For more blabber, take the jump at the link below.

I'm going on a break from blogging with finals coming up and two recruitments looming closer and closer. If ever I needed a break, it's now. I had a nice long talk with one of my best friends today, it reassured me of my humanity that I am not superwoman, so I shouldn't put a world of expectation on myself but I need to be stronger and voice my opinions instead of bottling them up. These thoughts are wasted energy and creativity, suffocating under my skin. I feel my lungs slowly constrain with every breath that I don't let out, and often I feel an invisible mountain crashing down on me when I see the aftermath of my inaction. Often I can wholeheartedly relate to that homeless woman sitting on the corner of the street that I see everyday. And I pass her, wanting so much to sit down next to her and share in her misery, rather than feeling it alone.

So, goodbye, blog. I'm going on a little break. Writing my thoughts down has been rather counterproductive, because I usually just spit out my negative thoughts and discard them, but this has been a chewed up piece of gum that remains stuck to my shoe. And I'm faced with all my fears, instead of carelessly putting it out of mind. Once I begin class, become overloaded with incalculable stress, and regain my normalcy, I might come back for a rant or two. Until then,
Sayonara.
Arrivederci.
Annyeong :)

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COLLEGE FINALS

Tests are a fact of life. But preparing for 2 essay questions is asking for mental suicide.

So I bought a peppermint plant from Ralph's last night. Peppermint is supposed to calm the nerves and ward off bugs (which are swarming my apartment like an anthrax explosion).

I don't know whether to water it or not. It didn't come with instructions. I have a feeling it won't live to see me get my finals back. But I do hope it'll help me concentrate, freak out less, and ace those 2 finals. These days, knowledge and writing ability won't get you anywhere, but kissing up to the professor and regurgitation (aka plagiarism of the Professor's words) will. So I must do the latter. Come on, I really want that A...

Anyway, I'm still soul searching...looking for a job prospect, or internship that really excites me for once. Being pre-med isn't supposed to be fun, but aren't there any tiny perks along the way???

I guess not. I've decided, the secret to success is to FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT, as a little birdie, aka some pompous CEO of some international corporation, told me once.

FAKING IT IS SO HARD. But until I look the part, I might as well start faking the "fake" part. Ew verbosity.

And the Academy Award goes to...

UPDATE:

I'm planning on seeing a psychic. Any sort of positive brainwashing I can get, I'll take. I don't have religion to help me cope. Sadly, I've never believed in Santa, and it's even less likely I could trust a deity to bring me hope. Positive affirmations help, but they're much too flimsy to stand up to the taunts and judgments of the masses. Without even the slightest superficial support of my parents, I am a tiny boat lost at sea. So little by little, I'm trying to stay afloat, remember my destination, and do it with a big cheesy smile....without resorting to becoming heavily medicated.

CORRECTION:

THIS POST IS NOT A REFLECTION OF ME. IT IS THE INTERNAL MONSTER SURFACING. DANGER. BACK AWAY NOW. COME BACK WHEN I'M IN A BETTER MOOD...AKA WHEN AUNT FLO LEAVES.

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Lost in The Hills

Productivity without studying:

1. Look for weekly ad coupons for toilet paper. Give up, buy toilet paper from Ralphs.
   
2. Watch a gazillion Youtube vids and 2 episodes of The Hills.
3. Work out at the gym for 2 hours and burned 700 calories. It's amazing how long I stayed. My motivation? Sleep, I wanted to tire myself out so I could finally sleep at a normal time and not 8am in the morning.
4. Laundry, broken dryer, had to travel between floors. It was like a second workout.
   

At the gym, I saw this guy staring at his screen while he was on the bicycle machine. He looked so focused and intense. Wondered what he was so into.

It was The Hills. I had a moment of realization. Boys are drama queens too.

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Sleepless Nights of Red Velvet Cake

After a tireless night of watching a new Shinee music video (EEEKKK!!!) and their NEW reality show episodes, I felt empty (no more singing, dancing, Asian stars to fill the void). Disclaimer: I don't expect you to understand but I'll kindly explain: Shinee, a Korean boy band sensation ages 15-17?, go on dates with slightly older women and the featured girl picks a winner to go on a longer date with. It's hilarious, slightly pedophilic in an innocent, childish way, the girls are only a few years older..haha like me..I should be on that show!!

Last night I couldn't fall asleep. *Sigh*. What's new. But I had this insatiable urge to get a Sprinkles cupcake at that very moment, and my stomach churned just thinking about waiting in that ridiculous line of white collared baby-boomers and LA hipsters, entering that cramped, minimalistic themed establishment, finally getting in the door, ordering 4 red velvets, getting that cute little cardboard box, and at last, digging into that "diabetes in a cup" with my little wooden spoon. I could have traversed continents to get there, I just had to have that soft cream-cheesy delight. So I spent the hours from 5am-8am planning my itinerary for getting to Beverly Hills with no form of reliable transportation. I even considered walking the 55 minutes it takes according to Google Maps. I researched Metro and Big Blue routes with no avail. I charted a way to get there by transferring 2 buses and walking an additional 20 minutes to get to the door. Why isn't there a Sprinkles/Beverly Hills shuttle that takes me directly there? What happened to supply meeting demand!?! So maybe I got a little obsessed. But considering my sanity was being punched in the nuts by my hunger, I was a cupcake fiend.





Then I thought of a brand new idea. Ding!

I looked up other cupcake shops in the entire 5 mile radius of my residence, the bus routes, and even called Big Blue to complain about the 50 cent increase which would mean an ADDITIONAL DOLLAR spent on my cupcake run. Nooooooooo. Unacceptable! Then, I found La Provence Cafe (supposedly the best Red Velvet in LA according to many Yelpers). Only a 10 minute bus ride and a 1 minute walk from there!!! PERFECTION! So with that settled, I went on to consider the other parts of my life, bodily imperfections, and things I was lacking. like a piano keyboard for example. I went on to research hundreds of models, price comparisons, sustain pedals, stands, chairs, THE WORKS. It was like planning a wedding but WORSE, cuz.....

I didn't even end up buying anything. And eventually fell asleep at 8:00am with 13 different tabs on piano sheet music open in my browser.

End of my insomniatic retardation. Hallucinations of changing my life often occur at these times. Sometimes it's when I have the most unexpected, creative epiphanies, but most of the time, I become paranoid about everything in the world, even genocide and AIDS in Africa, as if the world is about to collapse the next day.

Sooo, waking up 5 hours later, I decided I was insane and didn't pursue my foodie fantasy. But I did go to the library! And I got this to show for it...



It takes a lot for me to say "I like you so much, I think I'll read your biography."
But that's also why you're reading my blahg. hehe :D

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Bloggggging

Editing HTML and CSS by hand in blogger classic is a pain in the ashhh. Why can't I be normal and use a cool template? Well, then I would just a product of someone else's creativity and a plagiarist. One day I'll join the millions who cave in and go with Blogger 2.0, but I'm kind of old school, I believe in long division.

The last post was a lil on the lengthy side and deserves to be squashed beneath a new happier one! I love life, I love lying on my stomach and typing with one hand like I am currently doing, and I love lobsters. Anyone who dares look down upon that will get a lobster in his/her pantalones.

My favorite new "dive" (such a Yelpy word with such retro inspiration, and absolutely no relevancy in modern culture!) is......drumroll please.............


Whole Foods. Why didn't I discover you sooner, oh holy one? The juicy mango samplings that I heartily gorged down without a hint of employee disapproval, the nice rotisserie chicken man who gave me an entire chicken wing so I could sample it. I lathered on the aromatherapeutic lotions and antiwrinkle serums on my hands. Whiffed every candle scent imaginable. Waikiki Pukika?? I don't know, but it smelled like a fruit party in my nose. The fresh macaroons, fresh papaya, fresh...I never would even crave these things if not for the freshness I unearthed in this ORGANIC HEAVEN.

I purchased a small cup of thick clam chowder and finished with a nice crunchy samosa after my thorough exploration of the site. Dayum. It hit the spot.

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This is me - Not "Camp Rock"-style

If you really want to read this, adjust your screen font type aka press Ctrl and "+". Here goes another random stream of consciousness blahg post.

If reading this seems like a tedious, pointless waste them skip to the bottom where you can view the results of my current nerd phase.

I've made my share of mistakes, but experience has taught me to turn all these regrets into empowerment for my future endeavors. We live and we learn, right? But is this just talk and not action? I think so. I'm just as fragile as the starry-eyed 9 year old girl I was ten years ago.

So sideways, I'll run to that shining beacon in the distance, I'll fall on the floor, get trampled on, but I'll get up, trudge on blindly, and unleash a healthy can of whoopass on anyone who tries to stop me...What in the world? Who does this? Superwoman? A deaf and dumb dimwit with a juicy steak as his guiding light?

Some authoritative article told me that the top entrepreneurs with the highest salary had a 1.9 GPA average in college, I call that wasting your education..aka dimwitted...and yet each of them gets his juicy steak. And yet, a hardworking girl whose self-respect is deteriorating from the lack of respect given to her, is heading toward a path of destruction.

Respect is not earned, nor should it be expected, it's a conditional, frictional, sonuva-b, that keeps me in a cycle of defensiveness, the superficially thickened exterior duking it out with my traditional principle of "saving face".

People can respect you on certain terms, that change, all the frickin time. I can't live for other people, but I need to feel respected or maybe in a way..."accepted". Ew, I digress, this is not high school "pubescent angst".

I'd like to think I'll stay happy, I'll stay young, but I can't stop change. It's undeniable. The inevitabilities of the world, the elevated awareness that follows me everywhere I go, is like a ball-and-chain, slowly draining me of optimism, keeping me from exerting my full potential.

I'm not always Plath-like, or emo (for lack of a better word)...looking at old pictures made me realize how quickly I've changed, but no change has stayed permanent, and it seems more like I've been assuming roles that didn't suit me, but I so wanted to be that person, thinking once I put on the chicken costume, I'll find my true happiness.

No, instead, I just felt silly, awkward, as if I was living in someone else's skin. And when someone criticized me in those moments, it was an frustrating out of body experience. I could not explain myself, cuz I couldn't recite anything beyond the cliche that I had rehearsed as part of the "act".

Folk music is now my sweet remedy. It takes me back to the past when things were simple, and makes me believe I am in my own skin, that I know myself better than the next person.

But take out the earphones, and I'm mad. Mad at the criticisms I didn't deserve, because frankly, I didn't learn to be a better person from these people. I learned to loathe and harness ill will for people who killed my pride and for things I couldn't control. Suddenly the phrase "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" is my reality.

Maybe it's easy for you to forget, "not care" or "be strong", but frankly that's the benefit of being naturally ignorant, you roll with the punches, you swallow thumbtacks with a smile, you're almost born without emotional nerve endings, but I have too many of those and I'd gladly donate a few to you. Like I've told my grandpa, when he lectures me on the very opposite of survival tactics in Western society: I'd rather be blind. It's better to see the world through cloudy lenses where everything is hazy and glorified, than to live with the painful disappointment of clarity. Blissful ignorance is the key to happiness...and life.

Thus, I've made my point... in the form of a circle, or rather an infinite black hole, however you want to look at it. I'm aware...I make things more complicated than they have to be.


Astigmatism sounds like a venereal disease.

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Eat pray love

.....

'Cuz LOVING to EAT is not enough. Eat Pray Love's a book I have yet to read, but that's not point. The author Elizabeth Gilbert was on Oprah yesterday. Quick synopsis: she had just gotten out of a bad divorce and decided she would go on a path of rediscovery and take time for herself by traveling the world. She hit Italy, India, basically all the countries that begin with the letter "I". If she could do it, well gosh darn it, so can I. My adventure begins with a trip to the LA public library, I'll hit Rite Aid for a little cultural awakening with the hobos outside. And she since got to eat pizza in Naples, I'll eat my Hot Pocket. Time to connect with my spiritual side. Om.

The current "disgust"...dirty sponges. They reek of mold, and who would use something like that to wash their plates? Microwave your damn sponge! Kill that bacteria! Down with mildew!

"Disgust" #2, I scratched the iPod shuffle I just got in the mail yesterday. I want to encrust it with those shiny crystal embellishments now, but then again, I don't want to bling it out, I just want that ugly scratch to go away. Rrggg. And stickers would just cheapify it.

Why so disgusted?

Diagnosis: Post-Labor (Day) Depression, I want to rest, but I have 2 finals next week and until then, more learning about how war is beneficial to society.

Down with warmongering, bring back the hippies!

Goodbye for now, I'm about to embark on my Elysian journey. Oh yeah, there's an Élysée café near by...it's meant to be!

I shall be as free as this little child romping about at Élysée Palace :)



*UPDATE: So my local escapade has come to a finish, and I'm proud to say I've reached most of my destinations. I've been out for 2 hours, brought back a few souvenirs (aka clearance items) and most importantly I've "found myself". Well, kind of. More likely it's the hallucinations I get from walking in the heat while wearing black.

Okay, I shall bid adieu. I've got to repatch my lil iPod with some rhinestones I bought at the Asian gift store! Thank sexy Jesus for Asian gift stores in the middle of nowhere!

**UPDATE #2: This post is already long enough, so why not make it longer! Just had to squeeze in this piece of ear candy. This guy is so talented, I officially have an ear-crush on him. Don't judge.

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Summer blues

So, summer's coming to an end soon. School's starting in a month, a new generation of freshies..that those who know what I'm talking about...is something I'm ridiculously excited about!! aaahh..

clue: it has something to do with this thing i'm posting below.

This girl is such a bright young star. I love this song by Natasha Bedingfield, it's good for my affirmation girl moments..haha. I have freckles :D




OK...bad clue, you'll just have to see when the end of September rolls in.
Enjoy the last few weeks of summer while they last!

Wish me luck on my midterm!
Peace and sunshine :)

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Olympics

It's no joke. I'm currently running a marathon, called the 2 day Soviet-American Relations Essay. Fueled by my good friend Haagen-Dazs, I'm in the last leg of the race. But now I stop my zombie-like research prose for a drink of fresh water...some good ol' creative rambling.

Poetry, it's my therapy, it's my disease. So whatever you think of it please keep it to yourself, I don't need a diagnosis, unless you really REALLLLY like it, then please do..go on :)

A winged needle
Swept into a fury
Blazing at incalculable speeds,
Superhuman,
but your heart beat sounds like mine.
So dwarved by expectation,
I never stop to think
I could unfurl those hidden wings.

That was my 30 second blahg...meaning it's blah, but so be it.

GOOOO Team USA!! GOOOO CHINA, those divers are unmatched i.e. guo jingjing! GOOOO where are you..Canada?

good night and good blogging.

Fiona

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what's up doc?

Diverting from my tech, music, fashion buzz, I think it's time I get back on track, the path I had been following before the "real world" starting distracting me, and that means setting my sights on...becoming a doctor.

When "The Hills" came on I considered FIDM..couture, or how bout interior design?!.When I worked at KTLA, I thought, wow I could be an anchor or movie producer. But these entertainment avenues seem so unlikely, uncertain, and unfathomable as my ultimate goal. I don't know how much satisfaction I would get from selling advertisement time as a career, but I'm starting to feel how superficial and unrewarding emotionally these office jobs would be. The past two years seem to have been my experimental period; testing out the corporate waters and the political side of the world that had always been a nuisance to hear about in my household of antiwar, "politics is an evil game involving corrupt leaders" kinda people. But it has all led up to now..the point in my life, that I say "it's now or never". It's time to make a change, and do what I was meant to do, the goal that all the natural forces had driven me towards: my love for helping people in need (especially children), my love of the biological sciences, my mother's failed dream that was inspirational to my devotion to a higher success, reaching the potential that my father's family of China's number one doctors had hoped for me and bestowed their trust in me to carry on that philanthropic ideal. A doctor's path is long, strenuous, paved with sweat and blood and tears and sacrifice, but maybe that's all I need..something to live for.

and that means, not settling for being someone's assistant, or paper stapler. I didn't work this hard so far to throw it all away.

I thank God that I have parents that support me through all the terrible decisions I've made and let me fall on my own and pick myself up. I've found out I am stronger than I thought I could be, more mature and thoughtful, and I am willing to suffer for the present in order to achieve a brighter future. And that's something I'm looking forward to now that I'm retracing my steps.

Thank you Ye Ye, Nai Nai, thank you for always believing in me, teaching me what true satisfaction in life will feel like, what being a good person and living with honor is like.

Thank you Wai Gong, Wai Po, for being my surrogate parents, always subliminally giving me the facts of life, reassuring me of my humanity, encouraging me to be my best, and seeing the potential in me that I couldn't see myself.

Social pressures, all the negativity of competition, and doubt have hindered me up until now, but I have an indefatigable optimism on my side thanks to my father, and that has gotten him through immigrating to a completely foreign country, getting a PhD, completely changing industries, and becoming the most indispensible elite of Charles Schwab, and still he continues his entrepreneurial ambitions. Thank you Dad. People did always say I was made in your likeness.

always, *fighting*

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Good God, don't tell me that.

Yes, it's true,

I've applied for a waitress job.

No, I haven't lost my mind. I'm normal...I think. This is my only way to finance 2 fun lil upperdiv classes plus an apartment shared with 2 strangers. Normal people do hospitality jobs... Maybe I'm not normal.

I've tried. I tried the whole retail IMAX experience with surround sound...a la Celine Dion discotheque. But I'm through with grinning...after a long day of school, I'll probably look like a crazed chihuahua baring all my teeth...ew, I hate chihuahuas.

And waiting...I practically fall apart waiting on the Big Blue to reach my stop.

But, after a long chat with the paternal...I'm officially in Brokesville.


...Can I take your order?

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Shoutouts

Thank you Cheesecake Factory, for making me wait in line just to find out $1.50 cheesecakes were for dine-in guests only, and waiting time to dine-in was close to 2 hours. Screw you, I'm eating Korean Tofu.

Thank you egg, for burning my chin this morning when i was trying to fry you.

Thank you "The Hills Season 3" for giving me unrealistic expectations of fashion and life. My ideal is now Brody Jenner (good looks, unlimited wealth, and the son of a celebrity aka major hook-ups).

So a few days ago, as I was perusing the bestseller display at B&N, I came upon Chelsea Handler's new hardcover. I had heard fabulous things about it from Amazon.com, and so I sat down with it and dug into a few chapters. I laughed, I cried, I walked out 3 hours later with a new lease on life.

I now feel good about myself. There are people in the world who are more effed up than me, who can make it to the top. I no longer have qualms about my puny love life, my lack of tanning abilities, or whatnot, knowing that at least I haven't gotten a DUI, only to be caught for using a fake ID, sent to a Women's State Penitentiary, and forced to bunk with a murderer. As much as life bores me sometimes, I am not THAT desperate for a little action.

Countdown to summer school begins now, 2 days til I move into my apt, 4 days til I start classes. Still job-hunting and internship-hunting. Life is peachy.

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Web-hopping. Better than club-hopping. Wait...what!?!

Today,

I was so stationary, I can make a mindmeister of everything that went through my head.
That's saying something, since when your walking, your thoughts tend to dissipate quicker...my own special theory.

Is Google taking over everything or what?!! My RSS feeds are telling me so, but heck Youtube? Blogger!?! Digg?!!!! Everything is log-in-able with my gmail account. This is tyranny I tell ya! Soon Google will be taking over my online shopping. (unless they haven't already?! amazon, are you not telling me something?). Besides they already know where we live with all the Google Earth bizness. Frankly, I'm afraid for my privacy and my life in this wiretapping society.

OO...that leads me to Harold & Kumar: Escape From Guantanamo Bay. Except for the obscene objectification of women (aka nudity everywhere), I rather liked it. I'm hesistant to admit, I let out a few fan-girl gasps of excitement during Roldie's parts. Plus, G.Dubb. was in it, and what an accurate portrayal of the blundering fella. Sometimes movies like these are the only things that dare to say what we secretly wish we could but don't, cuz it's all about being PC. Well, this is the very antithesis of PC and kosherness. So watch it, cuz you know you wanna.

I bought some opal jewelry off eBay today. Made me feel all warm and tingly.

SYTYCD is the best show ever created. Talent, Mia Michaels, shirtless males, Mia Michaels, hot tamale trains, did I mention Mia Michaels? She is God. This week, Will was eliminated!! What in the name of hot tamales was America thinking?!! Our only hope now is Katee...she is truly the best, more soulful, contemporary dancer I've ever seen...and perfection/heart/personality in every number! a-MAAAA-zing.



Every day I take time to do something reflective...like read an inspiration blog, update a quote wall, or watch Oprah...(lol). And this time I came upon an incredible story of a hiker who bravely severed his own arm with a dull knife when a boulder had immobilized him. Days of sawing away at his own flesh and drinking his "brown" pee to even make it through another day. That's his description by the way. Anyway, his name is Aron Ralston, and I found him from a cracked.com article. Made me think though, having the will to live through something traumatic is really the greatest gift. Overcoming it really made him stronger. That's how people are differentiated I guess, those who succumb and those who overcome. Though both are faced with the same obstacles, same humiliation, same devastation, the ones who are weak will always be categorized as such, but the strong will be lifted upon shoulders and revered for their bravery. That really makes me rethink my past actions. Have I been resilient? Can I bounce back? It's knowing that you are in control of your destiny and never a victim of others' actions.

Word of caution: Cracked.com is seriously whack though. Addicting as crack, but you will soon feel the need to hurl after reading some of their "worst of" lists.

I've been exploring the abyssal depths of the web with no end in sight, but seems I should get up from my trance, and let my limbs feel the full force of gravity again.

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Smallness

Some recent developments (this is what happens when you spend your nights scouring the web for "Baby Einstein" music for your 4 month old cousin and Pavarotti's Best Of Collection for your Grandpa. After listening to them, I can now belt Caruso in my sleep).

I've made an astounding revelation..

Life in LA, well at my school at least, runs pretty much parallel to life in China. There are so many Asians. For all you non-Asians, take a walk in my shoes please. You feel so small, and part of something so massive, that you're squeezing your face through cracks in the crowds for a breath of fresh air. You feel so unoriginal, so fake, so unmotivated to stand out, cuz anything that you want to do, has been done, and everything you want to get, has been gotten. When I leave a home (that's what I call a place I've adapted to with people I care dearly about), it seems like the only thing to do is fear for the transition into a different reality, and make unfair comparisons.

Every time I take a break for the summer, I have to reevaluate life. It's just natural for me, to separate myself from the social me, and just find myself again. Sometimes I get so lost trying to be what others want me to be, I forget how great it was just to be who I was all along.

It's so cliche, I know. But I just wanted it be out there. I'm not just another girl. I feel degraded when people stare at me like a piece of meat, (not flattered or "so hot" like the Wonder Girls). No, that's not me. I'm not just another Asian who's good at math.

1. First of all, I'm Asian, I look, speak, and listen to Chinese, I was raised Canadian, but if it's not my daily way of life, don't go around talking about my culture, or heritage, or ancestors as if you're in my effing boat. I don't ask you why you have a mole in your armpit, don't ask me why I have freckles, I just do. So suck it. I'll gladly discuss more pertinent information than my skin color...like cars for example..I love Bugattis.
2. Second, I hate math, I suck at it, I've only loved three things with all my heart in my life: music, biology (just ask my family of doctors), and writing. And currently I'm not making the most of any of my talents or passions. I'm not stick-skinny. I won't ever be, I hope to God. From my grandma, I've learned being healthy trumps all. You can't be happy if you're not healthy.
   

I'm not just who I appear. I'm so much more. But it's a shame, you don't take the time to look twice, and see past the pained grin and forced giggle.

I often think about failure before I even make a plan of action. The neurotic perfectionist inside of me has stopped me from doing so many things that would have I been successful at, and as a child I wasn't this scared. Growing up has not only humbled me, it's debilitated me, making me second guess everything. And I think it's time I've let go...and be 10 again.

On my nice 14 hour flight back to LA, these are things I'm not going to think about, talk about, or dream about. I'm just going to live it. Cuz pulling another Grey's quote out of my @$$.."life's not supposed to be this hard."

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Hello Blog, It's Me Fiona

Again, I'm trying to quit being so verbose. So here it is quick and dirty.

My Grey's 2-Day All-you-can-watch Marathon has officially induced a state of manic depression. I thought this show was about love! drama! sexy stuff! NOT all this cutting people open, watching them die. What can I say, I get attached.

I'm beginning to think I'm the one in need of a morphine injection.

But anywho. I'm 2 days away from flying back from China. With a head bursting with plans, I've decided to check out this new thing called Mindmeister. It's a brainstorming tool fit for a...brainstormer like me. Lolcats.

I'm gonna map out my the rest of my summer, maybe create some wild storylines for my next novelette (I like that word teehee).

I'm already ahead, look! Some adjectives I'm hungry to infuse into the pages (ah, my secret passion for literature): swerving, billowing, repugnant. And don't forget the action words!...hrm can't think of any. But I digress, I'm ready to map my life. After that hard drive crash 2 months ago..(a disaster that dwarves the China earthquake by comparison. Ok, maybe not)...I'm ready to make amends, start fresh (and hopefully reignite some of those creative bits), make up for the 120gb of pure genius that went to waste (included were orig. poetry, orig. personal essays, life plans, life philosophies, seriously, music compositions I had mixed with audiomixer, thousands of photoshop creations that never got to see the light). I was young, naive, thought my little Dell was indestructible.

I was WRONG, and you will cry like a baby if you don't back up, so back up, back up. I found this new thing..well it's not new, but it is to me. It gives you free 2gb to save your files on their FTP server. It's safer than carrying around a usb drive (considering I lose my phone that's 10 times bigger almost everyday), and doesn't cost a thing. Trust me on this one, don't risk losing your memories/Nobel prize-worthy ideas. Mozy on over and get to it. Now.

What's with my irrelevant titles, you ask? I don't know, my brain flow just doesn't start until I start typing in the big text box I guess. Maybe it's lack of sleep from watching McDreamy all the time. Maybe it's having the attention span of a goldfish. Maybe it's...*stares cluelessly up in air*

Seriously. Seriously...seriously though. You'll grow to love the stream of consciousness-ness of me, I promise, and if not, screw you. *big cheesy smile* (ooh asterisked emotions are like real ones but better!)

On my Amazon book list:
Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea

Last thoughts (I'm sooo turning into Dr. Phil):

1. Life's too short but you know that.
2. Don't take your loved ones for granted (I'm realizing how real and amazing my grandparents are more and more each day, and I think, I'd like to be like that someday..just content, open-minded, never complaining, always enlightening me with their thoughts about the world).
   
3. Say what you mean. Mean what you say.
   
4. "It's better to know than wonder", as Meredith Grey says.
   

So maybe that wasn't as quick as expected, but it sure was dirty. Mmhgh, *smug look of disgust*. Time to "scrub in", I mean scrub up. Look what Grey's has done to me. Seriously.

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Resolutions

Who says resolutions are only for January firsts? No, I say. I'm making one today: Shorter posts. Cuz one can only rant for so long.

What I am doing right now: Watching Grey's Anatomy at 5AM. All nighter with some deep thinking and Grape-flavored Mentos.

Hold that thought...realization: I want to become a physician/pediatrician. Can old dreams really be rekindled? Can I be who I was meant to be? Rgg. Listening to Pavarotti and Yo-Yo Ma has really put me in fatalist mindset. 120g of Mentos eating away at my teeth...time to brush.

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Mosquitoes and Chocolate

Tequila Tuesday, ended up being buzzkill. First experience at an Asian club with a non ex-pat vibe (aka everyone there was Asian) left a fruity/putrid taste in my mouth, and no I didn't eat a durian. Highlight of the night: complimentary kettle korn. Low point: pissing off the towel guy by not tipping him for turning on my faucet in the restroom.

It was so eventful though..really. Zapatas, a Mexican bar had their Mile High Club Tuesday night..open bar for airline crew.. and I thought they were kidding...until they asked to see my airline card. WHAT?! Old pilot men and young stewardesses do not make for the prettiest sight (as far as female empowerment goes). Father complexes really piss me off, but let's move on.

There was instead a special deal for us non-fliers. 10 Tequila shots for 100. Wowwweee. Let's just say Jose..does not go down as smooth as I thought it would..with dry limes.

So as we moved to MT Club which was sketch to the max, we skipped nonchalantly passed dark alleyways, where 50 year old expats could be lurking ready to take our cab money (we met one at Zapatas). I took a jug of mixed JD (I think?) and poured myself a glass. Watched an equivalent of a striptease, and made off for the little girls room...only to find...

YES, the dreaded, hole in the floor squatters. If that wasn't bad enough, there was a gooey pink substance clogging the porcelain ditch..ew it can't be...but it is. Next revelation. No toilet paper. Perfect.

Escaping the nastiness, I see fresh water awaiting me. A sink bowl, immaculate...I move towards it, a gruff, pimp-looking man walks up to me with a towel. He moves to the sink and turns on the water for me. How kind of him. He then offers me a towel. "Okay..I guess, I can really wipe my own hands though". Then he motions at the table where there's a dollar sign embedded in the marble. "F U" I think to myself. And I walk away apologizing that I didn't bring enough money. And he graciously lets me go. Fearfully, I run into the crowd. Then, I remember, my friend's still in the bathroom. As soon as he comes out, I warn him "Don't let him wipe you!" The Wiper Man pushes him towards the sink in a kind of deja vu, out of body experience all rolled into one. And as I'm shouting advice and stepping in to release my confused friend from the man's grasp, he looms behind me, and shouts "You didn't pay anything! You can't tell your friend what to do! I do this for a living! How do you expect me to make money!"

If I didn't have that 5th Jose, I would've snapped. Thank God, I've learned the art of forgive and forget, even with a little assistance.

Not much to say after that. I tried to weasel some JD from busy bartender playing 10 fingers with a dreadlocked munchkin. Grr, they caught me. Awkwardly I turned the other direction as if it was a joke. Awkwardness ensued. We watched pale, shiny "hookerhoes" dance like technobots on crack. Some getting yelled at for not making a reservation but sitting down. Some "Oh my God" it's a bunch of white guys.."Oh nevermind they've found the white girls."

It was a rollercoaster ride of mediocrity and really low lows. But all in all, memorable.

Oh ya. About the title.

I have 3 mosquito bites from today and yesterday combined.
I just ate a piece of Belgium chocolate.
Dear Life,...we're even.

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Kung Fu Panda

Who can resist the charm and wit of Jack Black in a panda suit? He's fuzzy, squishy, and oh so ASIAN! lol. Hollywood these days, tsk tsk, picking at the Far East for their stereotypical roles. Yet it is Jack Black, the most notorious champion of American man-humor, who steps up to the plate to speak some Chinglish.

I've finally settled into being a summer sloth. Let's see..., at first I thought, I must venture into the crowd, unleash my bold foreign demeanor on the unkempt anorexics of bustling Shanghai, and show them what American-born..or rather American-raised means. (in my mind, it means easily offended by Chinese standards: "You can't talk to me like that! I'm the customer, you're the desperate salesperson, how dare you YELL AT ME!"). If only, I was a little more foreign and could simply turn a cold shoulder to their nasty remarks. Instead, I am all too willing to jump up and engage in a kung-fu style fist fight in the streets. It would make some pretty good entertainment for once..considering I've got a 3-month old, clueless, baby, that I have the privilege of guchi-guchi-gooing. So..wrapping up and tossing it aside, I've realized for the sake of my sanity and to preserve an aire of class, I've decided to remain houseridden (for the time being). So far so good.

STEP 1: Watch Kung Fu Panda on 10 RMB "blu-ray dvd". It turns our blu-ray here means crappy-scratched. 30 minutes in, and it stops, oo a glimmer of hope, 2 more seconds of pixelated animation! Then...freeze, for about 2 minutes I wait for 1 second of action. It goes on like this and each time I cling tighter to the screen, screaming obsenities at it in futility. Until, ALAS! I take the DVD out and wipe it. That's it. All it needed was some good ol' TLC, and it was smooth sailing from there. Butttttt, as they say, nothing good lasts forever.

And with 20 minutes left, I was left guessing: does Po beat whats-his-face (Li Fung??), does he make the whiskered Master rat thing proud? Holy Schmuck. I don't think I'll ever know, but if this movie is as crowdpleasing as ratings say, he will. GREAT! I ruined the movie for myself. :(

Anyway, I'm bitter and old cuz I've lived here for all the summers I can remember, and people seem to get more and more rude as technology has caught on. My favorite thing to come back to? The stares. People everywhere just stare at you, like your nose hair or neckline is alllllll their bidness. They don't just do it when your not looking, they look you up and down as your frowning right at them. But in their defense, I guess I'm fuller than the anorexic a-cups here are, and that is simply too strange to fathom and must be carefully examined. They stare so hard I can feel it even when I turn my back on them. I'm not paranoid, but the stares are unbearably discomforting, it's eye-rape I tell ya.

But, it IS my crazy mo-fo motherland. My birth medal (yes, I don't have a certificate, I have a medal, and nice leprosy vaccine scar to prove it) says so. I don't know any other place I'd rather be, for a sweltering 39 degree-celsius summer of love.

LOL.

No pandas here, just some good eats, overpriced brands (YES, Sephora here is haute class, with salepeople outnumbering potential customers (or as I like to call, their "prey"), and STILL in business [how? how???]), and some of the people who are closest to my heart. Here skycrapers and lights tower any mountain you will find, and the streets are polluted with selfish, poker-faced starers and drivers who think of pedestrians as Grand Theft Auto bonus points.

Oh Po, I wish life were as easy as selling noodles.

On a techie note, don't buy the new iPhone, here's why:
For iPhone, the 'New' is Relative

I'm still waiting for the iPhone nano ;) ... Steve Jobs, get on it!

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The Awful Truth

other than being the paradigm of screwball comedy at its finest...is...that...

this is yet another entry into the blogsphere...another lost Nemo in a sea of spermatite (miniscule and defenseless) little nomads.

So a few rules of conduct (and me-snippets) first of all,

1. There will be no profanity...all such verbage will be denoted by asterisks, number signs (I believe there's a word for the symbol, but who really cares what its called?), tildes (oh how much I've learned from Espanol though I can't seem to put one on my n right now), and my favorite, some good ol' word-improv (you're a smart cookie, you'll catch on).
2. I like lists. They are so informative, compact, and dare I say fun! They are the sparkle of monotonous prose. A simple paradox of order and innovation.
3. I lose track of what I'm saying sometimes. A trail of thought may wander into the Utopian abyss that is my mind and never find its way back into..what was I saying?
4. But nevertheless, I am optimistic..it's an incurable Dory syndrome that keeps me hovering precariously over the edge of destruction.
5. Dane Cook makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. People have said I sound like: a) a monkey, b) someone on crack, c) a man, when I laugh, and it's nice to get in touch with my feminity once in awhile (more such tutorial will follow).
6. Oldies are greaties. (See featured film of today's blog). If you haven't yet, go rent it. I used to abhor (ya that's right I hated it so much the word "whore" had to be uttered) the black and white, proper-talking classics. God forbid I'd accidently turn to TCM by accident; like a hot potato ready to scald my epidermis, I'd drop it like a bad habit. Perhaps it was a fear that monochromatic cinematography might have the opposite of a Pleasantville effect on me, turning me into a dull, grayscale replica of Mary Sue (but who knows, blonde (or technically light gray) could look good on me...if albino were in). It was my eccentric English prof that opened me up to the wonderful world of screwball comedy, and I will boldly compare it to such farcical acts of my bosom buddies Will Ferrell, Jack Black, and Ellen Degeneres.
7. An audiophile of audiophiles, I think every moment in life can be put soundtrack, and may break into written lyric every so often. Music carries my soul on Goliath-worthy rides, so don't mind my emotional ramblings, wait actually, do mind them..cuz that is why you're here, silly.
8. Happy, frantic, and sometimes confused...my search for truth..even if it may be awful, is my life...maybe with some power ballads in the background (a la Celine Dion).

Here I leave you for now with this list of 8 golden cheese nips of wisdom for you chew and ponder until my next foray into literary voyeurism.

I may be an enigma, but this Canadian Chinese-American who is just as East Coast as SoCal is just ODing on the wealth of information & culture that is..the web, the world, and the battle of self-identity. (oo ampersand..gotta love em).

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