I really don't want to go to bed on such a downer note. I mean, I wrote this downer blog post and have a downer status on my facebook. Good thing I cannot find where my Twitter app is on my phone because I would probably have something doomy and gloomy there too. So, I will end with this then go to sleep.
My top ten things as of today:
1) Pit Boss television show on Animal Planet.
I LOVE this show which features Shorty, a little person who runs an entertainment booking agency for little people as well as a pit bull rescue in Los Angeles. What I love about this show is that you forget that you are watching a show about little people, it is just a show about people who love dogs (well, some of the people anyway). Everyone is so likeable and positive, you really wish you could work there even though you'd be covered from heat to toe with pittie drool. Not much different from my real life. Shorty really gives you the reality of pit bull life - the bad (that taking your pit bull to a shelter means almost certain death for the dog, that they are victimized by cruel humans who use them for dog fighting or treat them in substandard, inhumane ways under the mistaken belief that they can "take it", that they are perceived as bloodthirsty killers) and the good (that they are loving, wonderful sweeties who make great pets for everyone of all ages). All I can say is any show that can dress of their cast in crawfish costumes and have them maintain an air of pride and dignity, that is a great accomplishment. Please watch and please adopt a pittie!
2) Penn Masala music
Acapella pop music sung in English and Hindi by East Asian Amercans attending Penn University. Their version of Don't Stop Believing is almost as good as Steve Perry's. You can hear them on YouTube or download them on ITunes. Just amazing.
3) Caramel Apple liquid coffeemate.
Argh, seasonal, almost gone...going through withdrawal. Need dairy version of methadone....
4) Miso-flavored Yaki Onigiri from Shirokiya
I know, almost $2 for 10 cents of rice with shoyu on it. But it's so ono.
5) Massaging Rayni until she falls asleep
I can't bring myself to take her to the vet since I know what he is going to say, that she has cancer and not much longer to live so we should put her down. I just can't face that reality and am going to do the hospice thing and just keep her comfortable at home until it is her time to cross the Rainbow Bridge. She loves being massaged and there is nothing that brings tears to my eyes faster than when she falls asleep midway through, her tongue peaking out through her furry gray muzzle.
6) Chasing Tiger around the house trying to put her Noni on
Tiger has had yet another mange attack and the only thing that seems to work is a concoction of noni juice and almond/honey body butter. I used to take her to get dips at the vet but that would just knock her out for a few days. When I went to the Best Friend's conference, they said that most rescue orgs. don't do the dip but apply cremes or lotions to the dogs. So, I'm trying the holistic route which Tiger just hates. I have to chase her around the house until I corner her somewhere. This is the only exercise I get all day which is why it's on my list.
7) The Kickboxing Class at The Source
The world is going to end soon as I am actually going to sign up for an exercise class and even more shocking, actually want to go. I did not like the kicking so much but loved the boxing so I am going to take that and beat the crap out of anything in my way.
8) Blue shave ice bars from Nijiya Market
These are just to die, especially if you are eating them at 11:00 at night while watching Chelsea Lately. If you don't read Japanese, they are in a blue box with a blue gorilla on them. I think they are 6 for $6 or something like that.
9) The new xerox machine at work
Mostly because I do not have to drag my laptop and my color printer to the office everyday any longer. What I have realized is that men have an unnatural attachment to any type of machinery that is new and can collate with the touch of a finger. If we had the staple attachment, I think my office would be as packed with men as a Friday Night at Rock-za.
10) The boys and girls of the 100th
Both of my grandfathers have passed away but I am blessed with many, many soul grandpas at my job. Every day, I know I will have something interesting to give my kids or to eat for a snack - bags of iso peanuts or pistachios, jabon, wall calendars, photos - you name it, I received it. What I treasure the most are the stories they share, often for the first time in decades. Of course, you cannot mention the boys of the 100th without mentioning the "steel chrysanthemums", their wives and widows. They are my role models - strong, determined, independent yet totally loving and caring to everyone. They may monku about their husbands but they are devoted to their families and living an honorable and true life. Each minute spent in the presence of these heroes and heroines is a gift that I will treasure forever.
Okay - now it's nene time.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
When Good Things Happen to Bad People
Now, I try my best to be a good Buddhist when I can. I try not to worship material things too much but that usually fails as soon as I catch sight of PetCo or a sale on Kat Von D eyeliner at Sephora. I try not to harm living things except for cockroaches who have no souls and whacking the kids in not readily visible areas. I try to be compassionate to most people, well the people that I feel deserve compassion anyway which is really a limited number of people given my propensity to get easily irritated for the most inane reason. Honestly, if you breath in a manner that is off kilter around me, I will seriously question continuing my relationship with you. Seriously....
I expected this year to be a great year since it is Tiger year and I am one of the striped clan (along with my Daddy and the twins). My Mom caught the feng shui bug from my BFF G.B. so there are books all about each of us at her house. It turns out that I am one kind of tiger (water tiger which is ironic since I hate swimming and drink soda more than water but I do like to shower a lot) and my kids and dad are another kind (earth tiger since they don't like to bathe but they do like to swim). We are all supposed to have good years but will deal with illness so my Mom is paranoid that Dad will have yet another trip to Queens to have a balloon placed in one of his arteries somewhere to draino the plate lunch goo out and that I will be in the hospital bed right behind him for a McD's french fry lube removal.
I was planning to have a very good year since this is my year. Nothing would bring me down, I would let out a mighty roar and conquer anything in my path. However, what I have learned in these few weeks in 2010 is that this year is going to be a battle - not so much against things directly in front of me but from hidden, unseen evil things that exist in their own dark universe.
I knew when I started at my job that I would spend a lot of evenings and weekends going to funerals. That's just inevitable when your youngest members are in their late 80s. I felt I could handle since it would be maybe one funeral a month for someone who had been sick for a while. I could prepare mentally and emotionally to say goodbye as freedom from illness or suffering was a gift from Buddha. However, the beloved ones who have passed since January have done so unexpectedly. I really thought I was okay but the reality is that I was numb from shock and once that wore off, like the shots at the Dentist when you have a root canal, the pain was intense and totally debilitating. I find myself crying whenever I think about any of the people I have had to say goodbye to this year so far - my Clubhouse buddy MM, the legendary EH, and so on.
To compound this, so many of the good people I know are dealing with very difficult situations. Unexplained illness, financial problems, overwhelming stress. All of these folks are some of the most genuine and kind people you could ever have the good fortune to meet. Each of them has brought so much to my life and the lives of my family that I feel I can never pay them back or even explain to them how much they mean to me. It makes me question the wisdom of the universe and the powers that let us be. Maybe I need to read the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" again because I really cannot comprehend why these wonderfully kind folks are suffering from bad times.
What really has me questioning my beliefs and considering actually waking up early on Sunday and going to temple is how good things are happening to the bad people that I have had the misfortune of knowing. While really deserving hard working people are being laid off, these black souls are finding great new jobs or being rewarded for their incompetence. It is so frustrating to see that someone who is undeserving of any of the blessings of the world is rolling in the dough while those who are truly wonderful are being screwed out of what they earned with blood, sweat and tears. As much as I do not want to waste any of my valuable free time over these terrible creatures, I cannot stop the anger I feel over the injustice being suffered by good people while bad people continue on their merry way with nary a bump in the road.
My friend BT tells me that I have to believe that eventually the bachi will kick in and bite these demonic dementors in the okole, that you cannot send out such negativity into the world without it boomeranging back at you. In my heart, I know he is right and I believe this too but in my head, I am starting to wonder if Oscar the Grouch has the right perspective - that the only way bad people will get theirs is if good people make sure punishment is handed out. Bad people continue being bad because they can - nobody does anything to stop them, there are no consequences and it is simply much more lucrative to play for the darkside.
I used to think that these bad people have no idea they are bad. That they steal or cheat because they truly need to money or had some kind of screwed up childhood that requires they feed their empty souls with wads of cash. That they treat others like crap because that is how they view themselves. That they make up lies about their lives because the reality of their existence is too tragic to face. That they make up lies about others because they envy the happiness, joy and self-satisfaction that these others possess. That there is some itty bitty, teeny tiny speck of humanity buried deep within the dank, stinky, mucky interior called their soul.
But now, I really believe that they were just born that way. Kind of like Rosemary's Baby. They were conceived one night when their Mom with the bad haircut drank some funky tea, put a stinky charm around her neck and did the nasty with the Devil. Either that or they were formed from those icky coils of dirt that come out from worms burrowing deep into the ground - you know, those hard yucky brown intestine looking things.
My only consolation is that all it takes is a little bit of sunshine to crush those freakin' dirt curls.....
I expected this year to be a great year since it is Tiger year and I am one of the striped clan (along with my Daddy and the twins). My Mom caught the feng shui bug from my BFF G.B. so there are books all about each of us at her house. It turns out that I am one kind of tiger (water tiger which is ironic since I hate swimming and drink soda more than water but I do like to shower a lot) and my kids and dad are another kind (earth tiger since they don't like to bathe but they do like to swim). We are all supposed to have good years but will deal with illness so my Mom is paranoid that Dad will have yet another trip to Queens to have a balloon placed in one of his arteries somewhere to draino the plate lunch goo out and that I will be in the hospital bed right behind him for a McD's french fry lube removal.
I was planning to have a very good year since this is my year. Nothing would bring me down, I would let out a mighty roar and conquer anything in my path. However, what I have learned in these few weeks in 2010 is that this year is going to be a battle - not so much against things directly in front of me but from hidden, unseen evil things that exist in their own dark universe.
I knew when I started at my job that I would spend a lot of evenings and weekends going to funerals. That's just inevitable when your youngest members are in their late 80s. I felt I could handle since it would be maybe one funeral a month for someone who had been sick for a while. I could prepare mentally and emotionally to say goodbye as freedom from illness or suffering was a gift from Buddha. However, the beloved ones who have passed since January have done so unexpectedly. I really thought I was okay but the reality is that I was numb from shock and once that wore off, like the shots at the Dentist when you have a root canal, the pain was intense and totally debilitating. I find myself crying whenever I think about any of the people I have had to say goodbye to this year so far - my Clubhouse buddy MM, the legendary EH, and so on.
To compound this, so many of the good people I know are dealing with very difficult situations. Unexplained illness, financial problems, overwhelming stress. All of these folks are some of the most genuine and kind people you could ever have the good fortune to meet. Each of them has brought so much to my life and the lives of my family that I feel I can never pay them back or even explain to them how much they mean to me. It makes me question the wisdom of the universe and the powers that let us be. Maybe I need to read the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" again because I really cannot comprehend why these wonderfully kind folks are suffering from bad times.
What really has me questioning my beliefs and considering actually waking up early on Sunday and going to temple is how good things are happening to the bad people that I have had the misfortune of knowing. While really deserving hard working people are being laid off, these black souls are finding great new jobs or being rewarded for their incompetence. It is so frustrating to see that someone who is undeserving of any of the blessings of the world is rolling in the dough while those who are truly wonderful are being screwed out of what they earned with blood, sweat and tears. As much as I do not want to waste any of my valuable free time over these terrible creatures, I cannot stop the anger I feel over the injustice being suffered by good people while bad people continue on their merry way with nary a bump in the road.
My friend BT tells me that I have to believe that eventually the bachi will kick in and bite these demonic dementors in the okole, that you cannot send out such negativity into the world without it boomeranging back at you. In my heart, I know he is right and I believe this too but in my head, I am starting to wonder if Oscar the Grouch has the right perspective - that the only way bad people will get theirs is if good people make sure punishment is handed out. Bad people continue being bad because they can - nobody does anything to stop them, there are no consequences and it is simply much more lucrative to play for the darkside.
I used to think that these bad people have no idea they are bad. That they steal or cheat because they truly need to money or had some kind of screwed up childhood that requires they feed their empty souls with wads of cash. That they treat others like crap because that is how they view themselves. That they make up lies about their lives because the reality of their existence is too tragic to face. That they make up lies about others because they envy the happiness, joy and self-satisfaction that these others possess. That there is some itty bitty, teeny tiny speck of humanity buried deep within the dank, stinky, mucky interior called their soul.
But now, I really believe that they were just born that way. Kind of like Rosemary's Baby. They were conceived one night when their Mom with the bad haircut drank some funky tea, put a stinky charm around her neck and did the nasty with the Devil. Either that or they were formed from those icky coils of dirt that come out from worms burrowing deep into the ground - you know, those hard yucky brown intestine looking things.
My only consolation is that all it takes is a little bit of sunshine to crush those freakin' dirt curls.....
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Asians Gone Wild
When I was growing up, there were very few Asian faces on television. I mean, real Asians and not the buck-toothed, slanty eyed Tojos that appared in the Bugs Bunny wartime cartoons. The only ones I can remember are Mrs. Livingston (Miyoshi Umeki) on the Courtship of Eddie's Father, Kato (Bruce Lee) from the Green Hornet and Hop Sing from Bonanza. Each was a second banana to the white folks but to me, they were the most memorable on the shows. While none of them spoke English without a distinctive "Oriental" accent, they always seemed to do so with a "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" (to quote Eric Idle from Monty Python) to those of us of the yellow persuasion, as if to emphasize that the whole coolie thing was just a great performance by a skilled actor. Think about it, the first Asian woman to win an Academy Award, who had her own variety show on TV, could only get on prime time by playing a submissive housekeeper.
The only Asian family I remember on television when I was little was the cartoon folk from Charlie Chan and the Chan Clan. Charlie was straight from the movies, always talking like a walking fortune cookie, but at least the kids spoke perfect unaccented English. Sure they were painted in an odd ochre hue and had eyes slanted like a sliding board but they were clearly Asian-American.
Things got a little better as I grew up. Pat Morita stole every scene as Arnold on Happy Days. He was cooler than the Fonz and totally hilarious. Sure the occasional semi-racist joke was made but he would deliver it in such a smart and snarky way that it was biting. I didn't even cringe in the one episode where he married his picture bride from Japan. Hated the show Mr. T and Tina that he did after Happy Days though.
Then came All American Girl with my "separated at birth" twin, Margaret Cho. That family was crazy but every Asian person could relate - the braniac favored son, the parents obsessed over education, the kind of nuts Grandma. I knew it was dead meat. So it was back to the Long Duk Dong types of Asian images - braniac math nerds, photo taking Japanese tourists, Stick-up-the-butt Japanese salarymen obsessed with blonde strippers.
When reality TV hit, yellow was pretty much non-existent. The only Asian faces were from game shows imported from Japan which emphasized "those nutty, nutty rice eaters". In terms of home grown folk, there was Pam from The Real World San Francisco who was pretty much the sanest person there (as much as you can be living with someone like Puck). She was every Okaasan's dream - a physician, well spoken and well, funky. And who can forget super hunky Yul Kwan, the (again) educational overachieving Asian winner of Survivor who was drop dead gorgeous? He didn't walk around naked like Richard Hatch (shucks), scheme or stab people behind their backs like the "usual" inscrutable Oriental. He was a smart, strong guy who played clean. He's still my Yellow Fever dream.
For my kids, Asian imagery has been a mixed bag. They have seen the rise of the cool Asian courtesy of MTV's America's Best Dance Crew's jabbawokkees, Kaba Modern and We are Heroes as well as Gwen Stefani's Harajuku Girls. Suddenly, being Asian was trendy and our logos and faces were plastered everywhere. Their favorite comedian is Bobby Lee from MAD Tv (even the Mad Cow's who is nagging to go to Bobby's upcoming Honolulu show) and I occasionally catch them reading Giant Robot, a magazine published by a Japanese American and a Chinese American which focuses on current and trendy Asian American culture (never thought you'd hear those words together, did you?).
In the past few weeks, the inroads made by Asian Americans have been destroyed by the hapa guy everyone loves to hate, Jon Goesselin, and that bisexual disaster, Tila Tequila. Once Kate Gosselin got her extensions, anyone on Team Jon jumped ship to Team Kate. Yes, people did criticize her about spending 20 hours away from her kids getting extensions and insanely screeching when they washed her hair in the bathtub but that stopped once photos appeared of Jon with his new squeeze, another 23 year old airhead heiress. He's just a gigolo after all, I guess. Hey, you have to pay your child support some way and I'm sure it's a lot more physically rewarding to con a young stupid girl than a dried up old cougar!
I don't even know what to say about Tila Tequila. I admit I did watch "Shot at Love" on MTV, mostly for the Jerry Springer factor. Since I'm coming clean, I did watch "Another Shot at Love" also but I didn't cry when she got dumped by the lesbian she chose at the end who (surprise, surprise) decided that she was actually straight but I did feel sorry for pool little mentally confused Tila though. As I watch her stumble around Hollywood in the midst of her "grief" over the death of her wife, I know that in the next few weeks, Entertainment Tonight will report her obit at the hands of herself. She is the yellow Lindsay Lohan. I mean, when you can only get press for partying with the Guidos and Guidettes of Jersey Shore, it is time to find a real job.
The Diva accuses me of being a stage mom and always trying to get her and the boys in front of the camera for any inane reason. It's not just me. Oscar the Grouch arranged for all of us to have dinner at Cha Cha Cha in Hawaii Kai last night so the kids could be in a 15 second TV commercial (although I don't know if it was for a fleeting minute of fame for the kids or for free food, I'm betting free food). As Asians go wild on tv, perhaps it is time just to let the kids shine out of the spotlight for a while.
The only Asian family I remember on television when I was little was the cartoon folk from Charlie Chan and the Chan Clan. Charlie was straight from the movies, always talking like a walking fortune cookie, but at least the kids spoke perfect unaccented English. Sure they were painted in an odd ochre hue and had eyes slanted like a sliding board but they were clearly Asian-American.
Things got a little better as I grew up. Pat Morita stole every scene as Arnold on Happy Days. He was cooler than the Fonz and totally hilarious. Sure the occasional semi-racist joke was made but he would deliver it in such a smart and snarky way that it was biting. I didn't even cringe in the one episode where he married his picture bride from Japan. Hated the show Mr. T and Tina that he did after Happy Days though.
Then came All American Girl with my "separated at birth" twin, Margaret Cho. That family was crazy but every Asian person could relate - the braniac favored son, the parents obsessed over education, the kind of nuts Grandma. I knew it was dead meat. So it was back to the Long Duk Dong types of Asian images - braniac math nerds, photo taking Japanese tourists, Stick-up-the-butt Japanese salarymen obsessed with blonde strippers.
When reality TV hit, yellow was pretty much non-existent. The only Asian faces were from game shows imported from Japan which emphasized "those nutty, nutty rice eaters". In terms of home grown folk, there was Pam from The Real World San Francisco who was pretty much the sanest person there (as much as you can be living with someone like Puck). She was every Okaasan's dream - a physician, well spoken and well, funky. And who can forget super hunky Yul Kwan, the (again) educational overachieving Asian winner of Survivor who was drop dead gorgeous? He didn't walk around naked like Richard Hatch (shucks), scheme or stab people behind their backs like the "usual" inscrutable Oriental. He was a smart, strong guy who played clean. He's still my Yellow Fever dream.
For my kids, Asian imagery has been a mixed bag. They have seen the rise of the cool Asian courtesy of MTV's America's Best Dance Crew's jabbawokkees, Kaba Modern and We are Heroes as well as Gwen Stefani's Harajuku Girls. Suddenly, being Asian was trendy and our logos and faces were plastered everywhere. Their favorite comedian is Bobby Lee from MAD Tv (even the Mad Cow's who is nagging to go to Bobby's upcoming Honolulu show) and I occasionally catch them reading Giant Robot, a magazine published by a Japanese American and a Chinese American which focuses on current and trendy Asian American culture (never thought you'd hear those words together, did you?).
In the past few weeks, the inroads made by Asian Americans have been destroyed by the hapa guy everyone loves to hate, Jon Goesselin, and that bisexual disaster, Tila Tequila. Once Kate Gosselin got her extensions, anyone on Team Jon jumped ship to Team Kate. Yes, people did criticize her about spending 20 hours away from her kids getting extensions and insanely screeching when they washed her hair in the bathtub but that stopped once photos appeared of Jon with his new squeeze, another 23 year old airhead heiress. He's just a gigolo after all, I guess. Hey, you have to pay your child support some way and I'm sure it's a lot more physically rewarding to con a young stupid girl than a dried up old cougar!
I don't even know what to say about Tila Tequila. I admit I did watch "Shot at Love" on MTV, mostly for the Jerry Springer factor. Since I'm coming clean, I did watch "Another Shot at Love" also but I didn't cry when she got dumped by the lesbian she chose at the end who (surprise, surprise) decided that she was actually straight but I did feel sorry for pool little mentally confused Tila though. As I watch her stumble around Hollywood in the midst of her "grief" over the death of her wife, I know that in the next few weeks, Entertainment Tonight will report her obit at the hands of herself. She is the yellow Lindsay Lohan. I mean, when you can only get press for partying with the Guidos and Guidettes of Jersey Shore, it is time to find a real job.
The Diva accuses me of being a stage mom and always trying to get her and the boys in front of the camera for any inane reason. It's not just me. Oscar the Grouch arranged for all of us to have dinner at Cha Cha Cha in Hawaii Kai last night so the kids could be in a 15 second TV commercial (although I don't know if it was for a fleeting minute of fame for the kids or for free food, I'm betting free food). As Asians go wild on tv, perhaps it is time just to let the kids shine out of the spotlight for a while.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Dog Haters Must Die!!!!!
Why do people who hate dogs move into neighborhoods with lots of dogs? In law, this is called coming to a nuisance but in real life, it's called having really irritating stupid people living by you.
Tonight, a guy who lives in a house kitty corner from us (on the next street) came by to tell us that our dog was barking too much and he knew it was our dog because she was the only big dog. Oscar the Grouch pointed out that all of the dogs in the neighborhood were barking because somebody was having a party and people were walking up and down in front of the houses. Oscar also pointed out that there is a big dog next to our house and a big dog across the street (all of whom were barking because of the strange man monkuing in front of our house). The guy admitted that yes, all the dogs were barking but he could recognize our dog's voice amongst all of them.
Oscar said that most people in the area have dogs because there is a lot of foot traffic all day and night since we live near a park and a school which has led to a number of break ins in the area. As you can guess, the homes with dogs were not broken into while homes next door were invaded. He also said that our dogs only bark for a reason like if there are cats or people near our property.
The guy then went into a whole diatribe that Oscar should understand because how he and his live-in girlfriend have a baby, to quote, "out of wedlock"and work two jobs, yadda yadda yadda. (Uh, no, we don't understand because we aren't trailer trash, thank you). Then Mr. Stupid said that if it happens again, he will call the police on us and Oscar said go ahead and do what you have to do. Oscar thought the idiot went home but I saw him run up the driveway at the next house to get to his house (can anyone say illegally trespassing on private property? Let's call the police on that one).
Oscar was very calm when he went over their conversation explaining that "I don't give a s**t about what he had to say."
I on the other hand was ready to chase the guy down and beat the crap out of him, especially as I had the same conversation with the same guy a few months ago when there was a hoard of skateboarders going up and down the main road, driving all the dogs crazy. I told the guy that he should call the police on the skateboarders if he wanted all the dogs to shut up. Then I told him that maybe he should not have moved to place with lots of dogs. Then I had to go into the house because I was ready to hit him in the face with a shovel for being such a pain in the okole.
I was halfway out the door tonight, wondering if the bloodstains would come out of my new t-shirt but it would have been okay since I have a shirt with a bear on it covered with bloodstains (the bear, not the shirt). Instead, I went out in the yard and yelled really loudly in the direction of his home (clearly a rental) behind ours that if "F-ing people do not like F-ing dogs they should take their F-ing A-s out of our F-ing neighborhood and move F-ing someplace else".
I felt better but not as better as I would had I ran him over a few times with my car then had my dogs take a dump on him. Quietly of course.
Now, as a Mom, I understand the need for quiet when your baby is sleeping but the reality of life is that you'd better get that sucker ready for the real world. You know, the world where jerks like this mushhead have nothing better to do than interrupt my family's peaceful meal with his little effort to show his wife (who I am sure it the totally stressed out emotionless woman pushing a stroller up and down the street at all hours of the day and night causing the dogs to bark) that he still has some cojones in his 99 cent store BVDs.
Hey, idiot, do I go to your house and bang on the door when your baby is screaming all night? Not a few minutes but hour after hour in the middle of the night? My kids can't sleep because of the screaming but do I walk up to your hovel and insist that you keep her quiet? No, I tell my kids that they can move to the other room, turn on the white noise on their clocks, or just deal with it. That's what normal parents do and not bizarro parents who want so badly to get out of their miserable homes that they have to come up with something to free themselves from the black pit of death that they call existence. Mr. Pea Brain, are you at one of your two jobs so you can't hear her crying 24-7 or do you just stick her in a closet when you're there?
Why not get one good job so you can buy a car and drive your f-upped family to a place that is 100% dog free? Why not drive straight to Kalihi where people would really welcome you dropping by to make a "neighborly' suggestion that their dogs be a little less vocal. Yeah, then cut through their yards to go home. Maybe you can buy a place that is 100% dog free like a storage facility without air? Better yet, why not live in a coffin? I will gladly arrange to put you there if you wish and you'll have all the silence I you want. Heck, I will even do the job myself. Just gotta call some of Daddy's friends with the pinky rings and the Caddy's with the tinted windows....
I support no-kill shelters as well as yes-kill dog haters.
Tonight, a guy who lives in a house kitty corner from us (on the next street) came by to tell us that our dog was barking too much and he knew it was our dog because she was the only big dog. Oscar the Grouch pointed out that all of the dogs in the neighborhood were barking because somebody was having a party and people were walking up and down in front of the houses. Oscar also pointed out that there is a big dog next to our house and a big dog across the street (all of whom were barking because of the strange man monkuing in front of our house). The guy admitted that yes, all the dogs were barking but he could recognize our dog's voice amongst all of them.
Oscar said that most people in the area have dogs because there is a lot of foot traffic all day and night since we live near a park and a school which has led to a number of break ins in the area. As you can guess, the homes with dogs were not broken into while homes next door were invaded. He also said that our dogs only bark for a reason like if there are cats or people near our property.
The guy then went into a whole diatribe that Oscar should understand because how he and his live-in girlfriend have a baby, to quote, "out of wedlock"and work two jobs, yadda yadda yadda. (Uh, no, we don't understand because we aren't trailer trash, thank you). Then Mr. Stupid said that if it happens again, he will call the police on us and Oscar said go ahead and do what you have to do. Oscar thought the idiot went home but I saw him run up the driveway at the next house to get to his house (can anyone say illegally trespassing on private property? Let's call the police on that one).
Oscar was very calm when he went over their conversation explaining that "I don't give a s**t about what he had to say."
I on the other hand was ready to chase the guy down and beat the crap out of him, especially as I had the same conversation with the same guy a few months ago when there was a hoard of skateboarders going up and down the main road, driving all the dogs crazy. I told the guy that he should call the police on the skateboarders if he wanted all the dogs to shut up. Then I told him that maybe he should not have moved to place with lots of dogs. Then I had to go into the house because I was ready to hit him in the face with a shovel for being such a pain in the okole.
I was halfway out the door tonight, wondering if the bloodstains would come out of my new t-shirt but it would have been okay since I have a shirt with a bear on it covered with bloodstains (the bear, not the shirt). Instead, I went out in the yard and yelled really loudly in the direction of his home (clearly a rental) behind ours that if "F-ing people do not like F-ing dogs they should take their F-ing A-s out of our F-ing neighborhood and move F-ing someplace else".
I felt better but not as better as I would had I ran him over a few times with my car then had my dogs take a dump on him. Quietly of course.
Now, as a Mom, I understand the need for quiet when your baby is sleeping but the reality of life is that you'd better get that sucker ready for the real world. You know, the world where jerks like this mushhead have nothing better to do than interrupt my family's peaceful meal with his little effort to show his wife (who I am sure it the totally stressed out emotionless woman pushing a stroller up and down the street at all hours of the day and night causing the dogs to bark) that he still has some cojones in his 99 cent store BVDs.
Hey, idiot, do I go to your house and bang on the door when your baby is screaming all night? Not a few minutes but hour after hour in the middle of the night? My kids can't sleep because of the screaming but do I walk up to your hovel and insist that you keep her quiet? No, I tell my kids that they can move to the other room, turn on the white noise on their clocks, or just deal with it. That's what normal parents do and not bizarro parents who want so badly to get out of their miserable homes that they have to come up with something to free themselves from the black pit of death that they call existence. Mr. Pea Brain, are you at one of your two jobs so you can't hear her crying 24-7 or do you just stick her in a closet when you're there?
Why not get one good job so you can buy a car and drive your f-upped family to a place that is 100% dog free? Why not drive straight to Kalihi where people would really welcome you dropping by to make a "neighborly' suggestion that their dogs be a little less vocal. Yeah, then cut through their yards to go home. Maybe you can buy a place that is 100% dog free like a storage facility without air? Better yet, why not live in a coffin? I will gladly arrange to put you there if you wish and you'll have all the silence I you want. Heck, I will even do the job myself. Just gotta call some of Daddy's friends with the pinky rings and the Caddy's with the tinted windows....
I support no-kill shelters as well as yes-kill dog haters.
Almost Famous????
I am a big Andy Warhol worshipper and beleive that everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. When I was a kid, I felt I had "made it" in the world of television when I was on the Checkers and Pogo show. I didn't get to do anything but sit on those rock hard benches since I was a fat girl with long curly hair and glasses and not one of those adorable skinny really Asian looking boys or cute haole girls with the cat glasses and lots of bows. It didn't matter though, I was thrilled to be within touching distance of the bowl of Merry Un Birthday pennies and Superspy McPig's Russian hat.
For my kids, it's a totally different scenario. Fame equals YouTube. They spend more time watching YouTube series than they do watching tv. Not that the tv is off while they are on YouTube. Chances are they are watching someone they like on YouTube guest starring in a show on television. If you are a parent, you have heard of Nigahiga (pronounce it the Asian way and not the hip hop way) and Fred or have heard thousands of Lady Gaga parodies by now.
Hey kids, Mom finally got her fame and is on YouTube, well, kinda sorta and not for the reasons you'd think - you know, like acting the fool when I got to meet Penn and Teller or drooling over the Zac Efron shirtless magazine covers at Borders.
My friend CL send me a Facebook message telling me about her cousin Pearl's store in New York, Knitty City, which was featured in a New York television show. Several years ago, when I first started making dolls, the Diva was into knitting so I made one called Pearl who was addicted to knitting. CL bought it and took it to New York to give to her cousin Pearl. If you watch the video, at about 1:20, while the REAL Pearl is talking, you can see the lower torso of the sock Peal in the upper right corner. Not the dangly black things but the purple/pink stuffed thing at the upper part of the screen.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-nPmH2JEWI.
Don't know if this link will work. If not, do a YouTube search on Knitty City and you'll find it.
I am keeping my fingers crossed that nobody videotaped me dancing to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce when I was under the influence of Bacardi Dragon Berry at the Mad Cow's Cosmic Bowling Birthday party in September.....
For my kids, it's a totally different scenario. Fame equals YouTube. They spend more time watching YouTube series than they do watching tv. Not that the tv is off while they are on YouTube. Chances are they are watching someone they like on YouTube guest starring in a show on television. If you are a parent, you have heard of Nigahiga (pronounce it the Asian way and not the hip hop way) and Fred or have heard thousands of Lady Gaga parodies by now.
Hey kids, Mom finally got her fame and is on YouTube, well, kinda sorta and not for the reasons you'd think - you know, like acting the fool when I got to meet Penn and Teller or drooling over the Zac Efron shirtless magazine covers at Borders.
My friend CL send me a Facebook message telling me about her cousin Pearl's store in New York, Knitty City, which was featured in a New York television show. Several years ago, when I first started making dolls, the Diva was into knitting so I made one called Pearl who was addicted to knitting. CL bought it and took it to New York to give to her cousin Pearl. If you watch the video, at about 1:20, while the REAL Pearl is talking, you can see the lower torso of the sock Peal in the upper right corner. Not the dangly black things but the purple/pink stuffed thing at the upper part of the screen.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-nPmH2JEWI.
Don't know if this link will work. If not, do a YouTube search on Knitty City and you'll find it.
I am keeping my fingers crossed that nobody videotaped me dancing to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce when I was under the influence of Bacardi Dragon Berry at the Mad Cow's Cosmic Bowling Birthday party in September.....
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Keep Them on the Plantation
After watching Spongebob all morning, I thought I owed it to my brain to be a little more intellectual for the rest of the day. I started off by writing up the Call the Artists for the Art Show I am working on (yes, I know I promised Oscar the Grouch that my volunteer activities with the kids' private school would end if and when the Mad Cow was admitted to Kindergarten but I'm still stuck in the tar pits known as helicopter PTA mom-ism) and then decided to read the WSJ. I confess that I only read the WSJ because of the Weekend Journal which has the articles on food and wine trends, book reviews and such. Sort of snobby, intellectualism done light.
I did read the actual news that contained an article on Barry's visit here and as expected, it was very condescending to us local folks, including First Sister Maya who it was reported "hid in the shrubs while her husband retrieved her red Subaru". Now, can you imagine the press reporting that Jeb Bush hid behind a tumbleweed while his wife retrieved his white Ford truck? Ah, you can get us Asians out of the rice paddies but you can't get us to give up squatting, no matter how much education you throw at us. The article closed by emphasizing that the there was more interest in articles about the price of sashimi and a meeting about the Chinatown rats than on our favorite son. As you might guess, the article was titled "Obamas Lei Low on Hawaiian Trip".
It seems like we can never get any respect as Hawaii folks. Even though our beloved Barry O, the first President of color, a Harvard Law grad, a successful profession, grew up here, our state is still perceived as somewhere south of Gilligan's Island. I'm sure reporters feared that a spray-tanned headhunter with a chicken bone in his nose would creep up behind them as they covered the Obama's dinner at Alan Wong's. I'm sure they would be shocked to see the cuisine at the restaurant, obviously expecting some moo goo gai pan or some shrimp fried rice to come out of the kitchen of somebody named Wong (or maybe the aforementioned rats).
The press seemed truly aghast that "the island's finely tuned grapevine, known as the 'coconut wireless'" had trouble stalking the Obamas on their trip. Nearby store owners were interviewed and shockingly, had no idea why there were crowds of folks on King Street (aside from the normal convoys of homeless folks and drunks stumbling out of Genjis). Explained noodle shop employee Marylou Cababat, "(I) thought I'd see our black president, but all I saw were a lot of white people running in the other direction." In case we brownies could not understand, the WSJ writer explained that these "white people" were Barry's security cordon. Good thing because we're so dumb, we might have thought the KKK was after him.
We locals can never catch a break, can we? Is it even conceivable to the Mainland press that people from Hawaii respect the rights of everyone - including the President - to privacy? That we truly believe that we can show our appreciation for all he does by leaving him (and more importantly, his family) alone? Because we don't show up with our own TMZ crews to photograph Sasha and Malia as they go to each shave ice, we should be considered socially ignorant or out-of-touch with the state of our Country? Buddha forbid that we are just nice people who want our most famous "Braddah" to have a good holiday.
It seems like every article you read about a celebrity who visits or is based in Hawaii (like the cast of Lost) always includes a statement about how nice the local people are. How they open their hearts and homes to newbies and always let them live life in privacy and peace. You never hear about police having to escort a celeb from the expensive part of Ala Moana to their bungalow in Kahala due to a swarm of paparazzi or rabid fans with camera phones. There aren't copters flying above when celebs get married on the beaches here or when so-and-so is seen in an indiscrete moment (Tiger should have had his booty call buffet here and not Vegas if he wanted to keep it on the DL). However, as the concept of respect and humanity is clearly baffling to the Mainland press, we do not score any points for courtesy but are again bashed as "dumb island folk".
So, the next time you see someone famous or almost famous, it is your duty as an American to harass the hell out of them.
Anyhow, if you are interested, the article appears in the Saturday/Sunday edition of the WSJ and is written by Elizabeth Williamson.
I did read the actual news that contained an article on Barry's visit here and as expected, it was very condescending to us local folks, including First Sister Maya who it was reported "hid in the shrubs while her husband retrieved her red Subaru". Now, can you imagine the press reporting that Jeb Bush hid behind a tumbleweed while his wife retrieved his white Ford truck? Ah, you can get us Asians out of the rice paddies but you can't get us to give up squatting, no matter how much education you throw at us. The article closed by emphasizing that the there was more interest in articles about the price of sashimi and a meeting about the Chinatown rats than on our favorite son. As you might guess, the article was titled "Obamas Lei Low on Hawaiian Trip".
It seems like we can never get any respect as Hawaii folks. Even though our beloved Barry O, the first President of color, a Harvard Law grad, a successful profession, grew up here, our state is still perceived as somewhere south of Gilligan's Island. I'm sure reporters feared that a spray-tanned headhunter with a chicken bone in his nose would creep up behind them as they covered the Obama's dinner at Alan Wong's. I'm sure they would be shocked to see the cuisine at the restaurant, obviously expecting some moo goo gai pan or some shrimp fried rice to come out of the kitchen of somebody named Wong (or maybe the aforementioned rats).
The press seemed truly aghast that "the island's finely tuned grapevine, known as the 'coconut wireless'" had trouble stalking the Obamas on their trip. Nearby store owners were interviewed and shockingly, had no idea why there were crowds of folks on King Street (aside from the normal convoys of homeless folks and drunks stumbling out of Genjis). Explained noodle shop employee Marylou Cababat, "(I) thought I'd see our black president, but all I saw were a lot of white people running in the other direction." In case we brownies could not understand, the WSJ writer explained that these "white people" were Barry's security cordon. Good thing because we're so dumb, we might have thought the KKK was after him.
We locals can never catch a break, can we? Is it even conceivable to the Mainland press that people from Hawaii respect the rights of everyone - including the President - to privacy? That we truly believe that we can show our appreciation for all he does by leaving him (and more importantly, his family) alone? Because we don't show up with our own TMZ crews to photograph Sasha and Malia as they go to each shave ice, we should be considered socially ignorant or out-of-touch with the state of our Country? Buddha forbid that we are just nice people who want our most famous "Braddah" to have a good holiday.
It seems like every article you read about a celebrity who visits or is based in Hawaii (like the cast of Lost) always includes a statement about how nice the local people are. How they open their hearts and homes to newbies and always let them live life in privacy and peace. You never hear about police having to escort a celeb from the expensive part of Ala Moana to their bungalow in Kahala due to a swarm of paparazzi or rabid fans with camera phones. There aren't copters flying above when celebs get married on the beaches here or when so-and-so is seen in an indiscrete moment (Tiger should have had his booty call buffet here and not Vegas if he wanted to keep it on the DL). However, as the concept of respect and humanity is clearly baffling to the Mainland press, we do not score any points for courtesy but are again bashed as "dumb island folk".
So, the next time you see someone famous or almost famous, it is your duty as an American to harass the hell out of them.
Anyhow, if you are interested, the article appears in the Saturday/Sunday edition of the WSJ and is written by Elizabeth Williamson.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Happy Tiger Year
So far, 2010 has been a good year. Mostly because I was passed out on the couch in a coma dealing the the effects of several plastic cups full of Bacardi Dragonberry, strawberry crush and grenadine. Although I learned this the hard way in high school, I seemed to have forgotten that just because something tastes like melted kool pops doesn't mean it won't kick your okole the net day with a mean hangover. Pounding headache, sore tummy and physically dead hangover. Now, that could also be the result of menopause and putting creamy horseradish over everything (as well as inhaling the grey smoke-filled sky around our house) too.
We had a small party but were expecting a big party. As is my way, I cooked way too much food and we will be eating roast beef until the summer. I now realize that I cannot send out e-mailed invitations to people on December 30th and expect them to show up on December 31. The only people that showed up were the people who had asked us in December what time they should come up on the Eve. Being the obedient Japanese person that I am, I caved and decided to have something at our house anyway. This was opposed by the kids who wanted to use one of the two $200 gift certificates we got to have dinnerat Mortons or Ruth Chris (although The Professor has still not forgiven Oscar the Grouch and I for going to the W Steakhouse at the Royal Hawaiian Center for lunch without him).
Deep inside, I wanted to shirk my shogatsu responsibilities, put on some spanx and a black dress and relive my drunken Point After glory days by going to see the Village People. Instead, my reality was dancing to YMCA on Band Hero as I made plate for everyone (well, for my two friends who came for dinner). But you know what? It was really a great New Years Eve, spending time with a friend whom I have known since 4th grade and a friend who I see several times a week. I can always count on them when I need help or just someone to monku to and I hope they feel the same way about me.
What I realize is that it is not the number of people in your life but the quality of the people that give generously of themselves to you and your family. I guess being on Facebook has made me a little neurotic about numbers. Why do I have only 15 friends when other people have thousands, right? But at this point, it doesn't really matter. What does matter is spending time with people who matter to me, especially now that I have gone back to work and the free time that I took for granted is now very, very precious to me.
Last year, I decided to try and be more selective about people. If I felt they did not bring anything positive to my life, I would not cultivate my relationship with them. I guess I got all Dr. Phil on myself and did actually tell people who called out of the blue that I did not have time to speak with them. The common way this went was someone that I hadn't spoken to since their last crisis years ago would call out of the blue to ask if I could provide free legal advice, a loan, a job, an introduction, etc. I'm sure you all have experienced this, the "friend" who only pops up when they need something but is never around when things are hunky dory. In the past, I would be the good Buddhist and do the favor and dodge their phone calls thereafter but this year, I decided I would not even do that.
I even told one person (who called to ask if I could meet to help with her son's paternity case - no hello, no how are the kids, no nothing, just the request for help after three years of nothing) that I no longer wanted to be her friend and it was not in my best interest to speak with her anymore. She was stunned, did not know what to say and before she could say anything, I hung up the phone. Even Oscar was stunned that I had temporarily grown a backbone.
I have done this several times in the past few months but have caved when the person called a few days later to say they were sorry or gave me a present (yes, I can be bought, especially for something cutesy).
So, as I think about this year, my year, Tiger year, I do not resolve to do this but I am going to try to be more discerning about the people I let into my life as well as redefining the limits of my relationship with those who are already in my life. While I love all of you who have big drama you know the kind that falls between Korean soap opera and Jerry Springer, I may decide that I can only listen to your sob stories for an hour at a time instead of three or will limit you to telling a horrible tale about your bad dates to one a month instead of ten. I'm not quite at emotional hard-okole yet, kind of at the soft shell turtle stage.
To put it simply, if you do not get on my nerves, I will not go fully Tiger and swat your head off with one swing. I'll just do the "Bunny Foo Foo" thing like my doggy Tiger does with the rats stuck in the sticky traps, just bop you on the head until you beg for mercy.
Have a great year and don't call me to vent.
We had a small party but were expecting a big party. As is my way, I cooked way too much food and we will be eating roast beef until the summer. I now realize that I cannot send out e-mailed invitations to people on December 30th and expect them to show up on December 31. The only people that showed up were the people who had asked us in December what time they should come up on the Eve. Being the obedient Japanese person that I am, I caved and decided to have something at our house anyway. This was opposed by the kids who wanted to use one of the two $200 gift certificates we got to have dinnerat Mortons or Ruth Chris (although The Professor has still not forgiven Oscar the Grouch and I for going to the W Steakhouse at the Royal Hawaiian Center for lunch without him).
Deep inside, I wanted to shirk my shogatsu responsibilities, put on some spanx and a black dress and relive my drunken Point After glory days by going to see the Village People. Instead, my reality was dancing to YMCA on Band Hero as I made plate for everyone (well, for my two friends who came for dinner). But you know what? It was really a great New Years Eve, spending time with a friend whom I have known since 4th grade and a friend who I see several times a week. I can always count on them when I need help or just someone to monku to and I hope they feel the same way about me.
What I realize is that it is not the number of people in your life but the quality of the people that give generously of themselves to you and your family. I guess being on Facebook has made me a little neurotic about numbers. Why do I have only 15 friends when other people have thousands, right? But at this point, it doesn't really matter. What does matter is spending time with people who matter to me, especially now that I have gone back to work and the free time that I took for granted is now very, very precious to me.
Last year, I decided to try and be more selective about people. If I felt they did not bring anything positive to my life, I would not cultivate my relationship with them. I guess I got all Dr. Phil on myself and did actually tell people who called out of the blue that I did not have time to speak with them. The common way this went was someone that I hadn't spoken to since their last crisis years ago would call out of the blue to ask if I could provide free legal advice, a loan, a job, an introduction, etc. I'm sure you all have experienced this, the "friend" who only pops up when they need something but is never around when things are hunky dory. In the past, I would be the good Buddhist and do the favor and dodge their phone calls thereafter but this year, I decided I would not even do that.
I even told one person (who called to ask if I could meet to help with her son's paternity case - no hello, no how are the kids, no nothing, just the request for help after three years of nothing) that I no longer wanted to be her friend and it was not in my best interest to speak with her anymore. She was stunned, did not know what to say and before she could say anything, I hung up the phone. Even Oscar was stunned that I had temporarily grown a backbone.
I have done this several times in the past few months but have caved when the person called a few days later to say they were sorry or gave me a present (yes, I can be bought, especially for something cutesy).
So, as I think about this year, my year, Tiger year, I do not resolve to do this but I am going to try to be more discerning about the people I let into my life as well as redefining the limits of my relationship with those who are already in my life. While I love all of you who have big drama you know the kind that falls between Korean soap opera and Jerry Springer, I may decide that I can only listen to your sob stories for an hour at a time instead of three or will limit you to telling a horrible tale about your bad dates to one a month instead of ten. I'm not quite at emotional hard-okole yet, kind of at the soft shell turtle stage.
To put it simply, if you do not get on my nerves, I will not go fully Tiger and swat your head off with one swing. I'll just do the "Bunny Foo Foo" thing like my doggy Tiger does with the rats stuck in the sticky traps, just bop you on the head until you beg for mercy.
Have a great year and don't call me to vent.
Ry You No Write
The title for this post comes from a kind of racist t-shirt I bought for the Mad Cow from The Stupid Factory at the Palazzo in Vegas. It has a line drawing of a person with a coolie hat, slant eyes and buck teeth saying, "Ry You No Call". The twins said it was totally offensive but I thought it was funny. I guess racism directed at yellow folks is less offensive to me if it looks like me (in the eyes anyway).
Sorry I haven't posted anything for a while but I could not figure out how to access my blog account. I guess that is a sign of age, that it never popped into my mind to sign on into Blogger directly instead of clicking the sign in thingy at the top of the blog. It is clear that I have miles to go to master the new world known as technology. Perhaps it is karmic punishment for stressing out and monku-ing over trying to teach some seniors how to use the xerox machine and surf the internet. It turns out that as hip and tech-geeky that I aspire to be, I am really still in the cavewoman, dragging knuckles on the ground stage of development.
I missed writing though. Found myself craving it dearly. Even thought about tweeting on my long defunct twitter account that I updated when I was in Las Vegas, mostly to send photos of my meals to the kids.
I am slowly getting adjusted to being a Facebook person, although I spend more time on the fan page I set up for my job than I do on the one for myself. I also have three times the friends on my work FB page than I do on my personal page. Either this means that the work me is more exciting than my real me or putting in time really pays off. The information on my work page is a lot more interesting than the mindless rantings I put on my personal page so it is understandable.
Sorry I haven't posted anything for a while but I could not figure out how to access my blog account. I guess that is a sign of age, that it never popped into my mind to sign on into Blogger directly instead of clicking the sign in thingy at the top of the blog. It is clear that I have miles to go to master the new world known as technology. Perhaps it is karmic punishment for stressing out and monku-ing over trying to teach some seniors how to use the xerox machine and surf the internet. It turns out that as hip and tech-geeky that I aspire to be, I am really still in the cavewoman, dragging knuckles on the ground stage of development.
I missed writing though. Found myself craving it dearly. Even thought about tweeting on my long defunct twitter account that I updated when I was in Las Vegas, mostly to send photos of my meals to the kids.
I am slowly getting adjusted to being a Facebook person, although I spend more time on the fan page I set up for my job than I do on the one for myself. I also have three times the friends on my work FB page than I do on my personal page. Either this means that the work me is more exciting than my real me or putting in time really pays off. The information on my work page is a lot more interesting than the mindless rantings I put on my personal page so it is understandable.
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