Sorry, no swarmy x-rated Lady Marmalade escapade here. Wanted to write about my not-so-secret vice, my overwhelming addiction to all things caffeine. Yes, yes, I know I also am hopelessly hooked on my IPhone but I can put it down when necessary (usually when a cop is pulled up next to me when I am driving or it is covered with slightly sticky, partially caked on snot after the Mad Cow hands it over to me after a long drive).
When I was little, coffee was strictly forbidden to those of us under 18. Nevermind that my Grandpa and every uncle on my Dad's side (calabash and biological) would let us sip from any open brown bottle of Primo beer all day long, alcohol was permissible but coffee was absolutely, positively forbidden. Back when I was little (pre-Flintstone era), the common thought was that if you gave a kid coffee, it would stunt his or her growth. As the tallest person on both sides of the family was a Munchkin sized 5 feet 6 inches (on tip toe), none of the jijis or babas were willing to take a chance with our generation of kidlets. Nobody was allowed to drink anything with coffee in it - we were even rationed one coffee candy a week and could only have a small scopp of kona coffee ice cream. We could stick our faces over the piping hot cups and get 3rd degree burns as we greedily and illicitly inhaled the fumes of adulthood.
When I watch those television dramas that always have a slow motion, highly choreographed scene of someone cooking and shooting heroin, the beautifully agonizing display of badness triggers flashbacks to my Grandma's kitchen in McCully. I would sit intently at the kitchen table and watch her daily routine of instant coffee making. Grandma would always put in 1/2 a teaspoon of Folgers Coffee (nothing but Folgers would do, it was like the Bob Sevey of coffee in my Grandparents house. Always appeared at the same time and loyalty to is was unfadeable). 2 teaspoons of sugar (hence the required switch to sweet and low brought on by diabetes) and about 1/2 a can of carnation milk. Grandma would mix everything together and then add the hot water. She would mix twice and that was it. I never saw her take a sip to make sure it was right or if anything else was needed. Like a crack head, she knew with total accuracy how to cook up her recommended daily fix.
It was heavenly, sitting and sniffing up every bit of coffee aroma that my flat little nose could pull away from Grandma. Combine that with the smell of frying ham patties, orange marmalade, toast crumbs and Grandma's white face powder and it was like sensory nirvana. Of course, being the evil person that I am, the moment my Grandma put her spoon down and turned her back, I shoved it into my mouth to take that first little hit of Java. Oooooh, so bitter but so good.
As a totally neurotic eldest daughter of two Japanese parents, I abided by the total terror put into me about the perils of coffee and did not drink any until I reached 18. By then, I was already experimenting with coke (coca cola that is). I was never without an open can of coke (only the classic, never the new or the clear one) no matter what time of day it was. Like my Grandparents allegiance to Folgers, I was a Coke girl. Even when John Belushi shouted loud from Saturday Night Live, "No Coke, Pepsi", I didn't switch. I did dally a bit in Pepsi when Michael Jackson was the spokesperson but once his Jheri curl caught on fire, it was too disturbing to drink. Kept having thoughts of a juiced up crispy part of Michael's hair sititng at th bottom of the can.
When I finally turned 18 and was allowed to have coffee, I was probably happier to have that first sip of the black stuff than I was to take my first drink. I readily volunteered to be the DD since I could drink cup after cup of coffee while everyone else were yotta yotta to the max. I felt happy to help my friends (and chase the caffinated dragon) and knew that having 8 cups of coffee instead of 8 shots of Midori would prevent me from waking up passed out in an unknown place with someone else's underwear on.
I wasn't a bougie coffee drinker - perfectly happy with (yes) my giant jar of Folgers coffee from Sam's Club and on splurge days, something highly sugary and sort of barf-inducing flavor wise (apple pie, pumpkin cobbler, banana foster) from a machine at 7-11. On days when I feel particularly evil, I go into one of those corporate coffee places and splurge on having an extra shot or two added to my three shot regular latte. I know you all know the answer to whether I used to drink the 8 shot macchiato at Starbucks. Yes, yes, yes (make orgasmic noises like Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally".
Looking back, I realize now that I could have had all the coffee I wanted back when I was a small shrimp since I am still a very height-challenged 5' 3" ball of raggedy fluff. However, maybe it would have been worse if I did drink coffee when I wasn't supposed to? After all, my Grandparents did warn me that if I sat on the coffee table in the living room, I would grow up to have a huge okole and uh, that turned out to be true.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
You'll Wonder Where the Yellow Went
The avalance known as The Karate Kid has started. Trailers for the upcoming movie are dominating the TV and everyone I know on Facebook "likes" the new version which features Jackie Chan and Jaden Pinkett-Smith, Will and Jada's son. I guess I am on my own on this one because I will definitely not be a fan of this movie, even though I really like Jackie Chan.
First of all, how can you call a movie The Karate Kid when there is no karate in it? When was the last time you saw Jackie Chan with a gi on doing a kata? I know all of us "Orientals" look the same to you Hollywood producers but to those of us non-round eyes, it's unquestinable that Jackie Chan is no Sonny Chiba. Do you really think we wouldn't notice when you try to pass off an egg roll as a tamago nigiri? Hell to the no.
Hey, even Kung Fu Panda had an animated panda doing kung fu. It didn't feature a turkey doing capoeira. How can you go authentic on a cartoon but not with real actors?
Nobody but nobody can replace Pat Morita. This weekend I caught a rerun of Karate Kid II, the one where Daniel-san and Mr. Miyagi go to Okinawa. My kids being the ministers of Japanese culture in the house chimed in with their own comments about how inauthentic things were, criticizing the bon dance steps, the taiko being off beat and the tea ceremony being rushed. They also could not understand why the love interest would have crossed eyes. Each time Tamlyn Tomita would come on the screen, the kids would scream, "CROSS EYE, CROSS EYE". So much for inner beauty.
I thought it was hilarious watching two local guys, Pat Morita and Danny Kamekona, speak to each other with dueling Japanese accents. You just know they were dying to bus' out the pidgin and go for it, "Eh, Miyagi-san, I goin' bus your okole if your haole kid touch da chichis of da cross eye girl!"
All I can say is how can you compare the classic "Wax on, wax off" with "jacket on, jacket off"? No can, no can. Also, Mr. Miyagi was a real Buddhist who respected all life by catching the fly and setting it free. Jackie whacks the crap out of it with a fly swatter. In case you weren't able to catch the reference back to the original, he scrapes it off the wall with chopsticks.
Now, if Pat whacked it with a rubber slippah, that would be another story.
Anyhow, I digress.
You'd think with the rise of Asian faces in pop culture barometers like America's Best Dance Crew that Hollywood would realize that there is no fear of the yellow peril out there in the media buying public but we are still being shut out of things that are rightfully ours. Take for example, the upcoming movie based on the cartoon series Avatar, The Last Airbender (this is the one with the yellow animated cast and not the funky blue CGI ones). The three lead characters are all WHITE, not by accident but by choice of the director, M. Night Shymalan. You would think that a brown brother would insist on a cast that was true to type but not so.
Fans bombarded Paramount with protest, calling for a boycott of the movie, to which Paramount responded with the typical response of "but some of the other actors are people of color". I was just watching the Original Kings of Comedy and to quote DL Hughley, "When someone says, they aren't racist because they have had three black people in their house, you know they are really racist! The fact that they can tell you HOW MANY black people have been in their house shows they are keeping count. That they would let three black people in their house but if you are number 4, there is no way you are coming in."
Read the totally condescending letter at www.manaa.org/labparamountresponse.html.
So, the fact that you have 4 supporting characters who are brown makes it okay? We should not grumble about not being let into the house because we are being allowed to work out in the fields, right? We can be slave labor outside but there can be no "House Airbender" allowed.
On the other hand, MTV is now casting for an Asian version of the Jersey Shore located in Koreatown. Asian American media outlets were asked to post a casting request for "attractive Asian Americans with lively, strong and unique personalities". What the heck does that mean? What is the Asian version of a Juicehead - a sojuhead? Yes, I admit that I did use a self-tanner back in the day which combined with my naturally banana-hued skin turned me as orange as a freshly picked Snooky but that's where the resemblance ends (uh, except for the back fat and the ackward dancing).
When you say "Asians Gone Wild", the image that pops into my head is Tila Tequila in a hot tub with Kim Jong Il. Scary in so many ways.
Be careful what you wish for, neh?
First of all, how can you call a movie The Karate Kid when there is no karate in it? When was the last time you saw Jackie Chan with a gi on doing a kata? I know all of us "Orientals" look the same to you Hollywood producers but to those of us non-round eyes, it's unquestinable that Jackie Chan is no Sonny Chiba. Do you really think we wouldn't notice when you try to pass off an egg roll as a tamago nigiri? Hell to the no.
Hey, even Kung Fu Panda had an animated panda doing kung fu. It didn't feature a turkey doing capoeira. How can you go authentic on a cartoon but not with real actors?
Nobody but nobody can replace Pat Morita. This weekend I caught a rerun of Karate Kid II, the one where Daniel-san and Mr. Miyagi go to Okinawa. My kids being the ministers of Japanese culture in the house chimed in with their own comments about how inauthentic things were, criticizing the bon dance steps, the taiko being off beat and the tea ceremony being rushed. They also could not understand why the love interest would have crossed eyes. Each time Tamlyn Tomita would come on the screen, the kids would scream, "CROSS EYE, CROSS EYE". So much for inner beauty.
I thought it was hilarious watching two local guys, Pat Morita and Danny Kamekona, speak to each other with dueling Japanese accents. You just know they were dying to bus' out the pidgin and go for it, "Eh, Miyagi-san, I goin' bus your okole if your haole kid touch da chichis of da cross eye girl!"
All I can say is how can you compare the classic "Wax on, wax off" with "jacket on, jacket off"? No can, no can. Also, Mr. Miyagi was a real Buddhist who respected all life by catching the fly and setting it free. Jackie whacks the crap out of it with a fly swatter. In case you weren't able to catch the reference back to the original, he scrapes it off the wall with chopsticks.
Now, if Pat whacked it with a rubber slippah, that would be another story.
Anyhow, I digress.
You'd think with the rise of Asian faces in pop culture barometers like America's Best Dance Crew that Hollywood would realize that there is no fear of the yellow peril out there in the media buying public but we are still being shut out of things that are rightfully ours. Take for example, the upcoming movie based on the cartoon series Avatar, The Last Airbender (this is the one with the yellow animated cast and not the funky blue CGI ones). The three lead characters are all WHITE, not by accident but by choice of the director, M. Night Shymalan. You would think that a brown brother would insist on a cast that was true to type but not so.
Fans bombarded Paramount with protest, calling for a boycott of the movie, to which Paramount responded with the typical response of "but some of the other actors are people of color". I was just watching the Original Kings of Comedy and to quote DL Hughley, "When someone says, they aren't racist because they have had three black people in their house, you know they are really racist! The fact that they can tell you HOW MANY black people have been in their house shows they are keeping count. That they would let three black people in their house but if you are number 4, there is no way you are coming in."
Read the totally condescending letter at www.manaa.org/labparamountresponse.html.
So, the fact that you have 4 supporting characters who are brown makes it okay? We should not grumble about not being let into the house because we are being allowed to work out in the fields, right? We can be slave labor outside but there can be no "House Airbender" allowed.
On the other hand, MTV is now casting for an Asian version of the Jersey Shore located in Koreatown. Asian American media outlets were asked to post a casting request for "attractive Asian Americans with lively, strong and unique personalities". What the heck does that mean? What is the Asian version of a Juicehead - a sojuhead? Yes, I admit that I did use a self-tanner back in the day which combined with my naturally banana-hued skin turned me as orange as a freshly picked Snooky but that's where the resemblance ends (uh, except for the back fat and the ackward dancing).
When you say "Asians Gone Wild", the image that pops into my head is Tila Tequila in a hot tub with Kim Jong Il. Scary in so many ways.
Be careful what you wish for, neh?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Art for Sale
I am a big Bravo Reality Ho. If it's on Bravo and involves semi-real people, chances are I will be hopelessly devoted to watching it again and again and again (yes, even Watch What Happens with Andy Cohen who I wish was my Gay Husband or one of my kids' Gunkles - that Gay Uncles which is the only thing of any value that I have learned watching Tori and Dean implode). Yes, I can name all of the Real Housewives, about 80% of their husbands and kids and pretty much all of their dogs and cats. Yes, I know the lyrics to "Don't Be Tardy for the Party" and can hum a few bars of the Countess' new tracks. But somehow, because these shows are on Bravo, I don't feel as dirty when I watch as I do watching For the Love of Ray J or Flavor of Love on VH1.
I guess I cut these shows some slack because there are reality shows on Bravo that do require people to have some semblance of talent or actual skills, such as Top Chef and the dearly departed Project Runway. Although your charm and ability to B.S. your way through culinary disasters for a few episodes of Top Chef, with time, you will eventually hear the melodious voice of the beautiful Padma Lakshmi tell you to pack your knives and go. The taste buds will always win. I don't think there has been a season of Top Chef where I did not agree with the Judges' decision.
Think about last season of Top Chef Masters when our beloved Roy Yamaguchi imploded into a useless mess of day old loco moco gravy. It just killed me to see him so utterly inept and terrified of the clock. I mean, Roy is like the Starbucks of Pacific Rim Cuisine, right? Highly addictive, uber trendy and there seems to be one on every block. Yes, he went down in flames like Beggars Chicken at King Tsin.
So, in between promos for Bethany's Getting Married???? and Danielle tormenting poor loyal Jacqueline in New Jersey, here comes the newest Bravo reality competition show called Work of Art which pits 14 artists against each other. Like every other reality competition, there is an Asian guy with a strange haircut, a hapa-appearing "fluffy" girl (think Lee Ann on Top Chef), fat lovable guy who is self taught, black woman with lots of layers and big hoop earrings, black guy with the cap tilted to the side with baggy shorts and Nikes (the argyle socks kind of throw me), lots of preppy looking white guys, cute blonde girls and one kind of lesbian appearing older white lady. Wouldn't it be nice if Bravo switched these images once in a while? Can't we have an Asian guy without some trendy haircut?
What bothers me is that each of these artists specialize in different mediums - some are scuptors, some are painters, some are photographers, some are performing artists - so how can you compare one person's work against another? Artwork is so subjective - kind of like porn is. One person's turn on is another person's obscenity. Think about the Mapplethorpe image called "Piss Christ"? Liberals thought it was a profoundly political statement against organized materialistic Christianity like practices by Jim and Tammy Baker while Conservatives used it as a reason to slash federal arts funding. It's all in the eye of the beholder. It would be like pitting Van Gogh against Warhol. Who is the better artist? Which painting to you like better? Now throw in Laurie Anderson's Superman piece, Michelangelo's David and Christo's environmental works and try to figure out who is #1.
The whole premise of the show goes against the grain of what art is supposed to be. Art is personal and the expression of one's individuality, it is thought and imagination becoming imagery, it is the essence of the soul. Granted it has become a commodity in modern years but the creative process, one hopes, should be reward in itself. To me, it is very clear when a piece has been created for the sole purpose of self expression versus being made to please the masses and earn a buck. Sure, everyone loves black velvet paintings of big eyed kitties or poker playing dogs but they do not generate the same sense of humanity as Munch's The Scream.
Well, even after this diatribe, I will probably watch the show anyway - if just to cheer for the Asian guy with the bad hair cut.
I guess I cut these shows some slack because there are reality shows on Bravo that do require people to have some semblance of talent or actual skills, such as Top Chef and the dearly departed Project Runway. Although your charm and ability to B.S. your way through culinary disasters for a few episodes of Top Chef, with time, you will eventually hear the melodious voice of the beautiful Padma Lakshmi tell you to pack your knives and go. The taste buds will always win. I don't think there has been a season of Top Chef where I did not agree with the Judges' decision.
Think about last season of Top Chef Masters when our beloved Roy Yamaguchi imploded into a useless mess of day old loco moco gravy. It just killed me to see him so utterly inept and terrified of the clock. I mean, Roy is like the Starbucks of Pacific Rim Cuisine, right? Highly addictive, uber trendy and there seems to be one on every block. Yes, he went down in flames like Beggars Chicken at King Tsin.
So, in between promos for Bethany's Getting Married???? and Danielle tormenting poor loyal Jacqueline in New Jersey, here comes the newest Bravo reality competition show called Work of Art which pits 14 artists against each other. Like every other reality competition, there is an Asian guy with a strange haircut, a hapa-appearing "fluffy" girl (think Lee Ann on Top Chef), fat lovable guy who is self taught, black woman with lots of layers and big hoop earrings, black guy with the cap tilted to the side with baggy shorts and Nikes (the argyle socks kind of throw me), lots of preppy looking white guys, cute blonde girls and one kind of lesbian appearing older white lady. Wouldn't it be nice if Bravo switched these images once in a while? Can't we have an Asian guy without some trendy haircut?
What bothers me is that each of these artists specialize in different mediums - some are scuptors, some are painters, some are photographers, some are performing artists - so how can you compare one person's work against another? Artwork is so subjective - kind of like porn is. One person's turn on is another person's obscenity. Think about the Mapplethorpe image called "Piss Christ"? Liberals thought it was a profoundly political statement against organized materialistic Christianity like practices by Jim and Tammy Baker while Conservatives used it as a reason to slash federal arts funding. It's all in the eye of the beholder. It would be like pitting Van Gogh against Warhol. Who is the better artist? Which painting to you like better? Now throw in Laurie Anderson's Superman piece, Michelangelo's David and Christo's environmental works and try to figure out who is #1.
The whole premise of the show goes against the grain of what art is supposed to be. Art is personal and the expression of one's individuality, it is thought and imagination becoming imagery, it is the essence of the soul. Granted it has become a commodity in modern years but the creative process, one hopes, should be reward in itself. To me, it is very clear when a piece has been created for the sole purpose of self expression versus being made to please the masses and earn a buck. Sure, everyone loves black velvet paintings of big eyed kitties or poker playing dogs but they do not generate the same sense of humanity as Munch's The Scream.
Well, even after this diatribe, I will probably watch the show anyway - if just to cheer for the Asian guy with the bad hair cut.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Life Isn't Fair
Okay, I know this is beating a dead horse but I am still mad that Tyra Sanchez (the other Tyra who is pictured in the top photo) won RuPaul's Drag Race #2 last week. I still cannot figure out how she beat out Raven (second place in photo in the middle) or Jujube (third place in photo at the bottom). I have to agree with all the bloggers who say that the drag queen who looks the most like RuPaul will always win.Tyra was the epitome of the evil beauty queen. She complained about everything and insulted and criticized the other girls, even the ones on her own team. When the girls had to work on a group assignment, she refused to make any effort to help or even participate. She just lay on the couch and whined about how unfair it was that she was stuck on such an awful team. You just wanted to whip her with one of her false eyelashes.
Maybe it is me but I never felt that I was looking at a woman when I saw Tyra. She was called out on several occasions by the judges for not altering her voice when she became Tyra. Even when it was part of the assignment, she refused to even try to change things up. While she kind of looked like Tyra, she always spoke like a Tyrone so it was difficult to be drawn into her world. On the oher hand, she was probably more obsessed with Tyra than the real Tyra so that may be the one positive things.
I think Raven should have won because her transformation was totally believable. The ultimate compliment paid to her was by Terri Nunn who said that she wished Raven w
as straight because she would like to uh, do the nasty with her. I have to agree. If you see Raven the guy, he is totally sexy and looks like a man's man but Raven the girl is totally a gorgeous woman. With the python arms, you'd think her drag would make her look like one of those steroid-laden lady bodybuilders but she never looked masculine at all. Yes, she did have her bitchy moments but they were all directed at Tyra so I forgive her.I LOVE Jujube but I did not think that she deserved to win. She did not have the talent that Raven had to transform herself into different women every week. Jujube was always Jujube - cute, quirky, the Asian Gidget. If you watch those Filipino talent shows on Channel 9, there will always be a bunch of girls who look exactly like Jujube but with more moles and not quite as pretty. While I would love to be Raven the girl and have a fling with Rave
n the guy (if he changed teams), I would also like to have a son like Jujube which uh, may be happening since the Mad Cow was running up and down my parents' driveway last night in my heels singing, "This groove is for my girls, all my Ladyboys and girls..."I'm sure the show will be rerun to death and those of you who are LOGO-phobic, can catch the show on VH1. Watch the entire season and you'll be hooked. However, you'll be P.O.'ed when Tyra wins. We were watching the finale and I couldn't stand the wait so the Professor looked up the results for me. When he said Tyra won, I switched the channel. I was so upset.
I wasn't thrilled when Bebe won in Season 1 because I felt that Nina Flowers did a much better job at everything. But then, being a straight woman, perhaps I do not know what components (aside from a good tuck) make one drag queen better than another one. Going from a purely Project Runway viewpoint, it would seem that the woman with the best wardrobe and most diverse wardrobe should win. However, on Drag Race, often the winner would be the person with the worst outfit - one that consisted of ready-made separates thrown together vs. a handmade, original new design. Same as the with the make-up and the hair.
Oh well, maybe it will be like American Idol where the universe rewards the runner-up with a bigger careeer and great success? If the universe loves Adam Lambert, surely Raven and Jujube will fly too!
Oh well, look at the photos and judge for yourself.
What About Your Friends????
The hoopla over Sex in the City 2 is everywhere and I just don't get it. You'd think I would have related to the story of 4 single professional women living in the city as in my previous life, I was a panty-hose and suit wearing member of the professional workforce, a REAL L.A. Lawyer during the time of the tv show L.A. Law. Yet, I've only watched the show a few times late at night, when the other options were Larry King reruns or informercials. The only characters I found likeable were the gay men. Even the adopted Asian girl was irritating, the epitome of a banana in training. Yuck.
Maybe it was the lack of color that drove me from the show? Yes, my friends and I have had discussions about "doing the deed" but it never included fruity pink cosmopolitans or an avalanche of witty puns. I don't ever recall a cosmo on the table ever but I do admit, there have been several mojito episodes. That was our cave to trendy drinking.
When I try to think of how my female friends and I relate to each other, it's more like the ladies of "Living Single" and more recently, "Girlfriends" - shows that feature African American women. The concepts of these shows are the same as Sex in the City - the daily lives of different types of women in different stages of life. In Living Single, you had Khadijaa the hip hop magazine editor, Max the attorney, Regine the retail buyer (gee, I think that is what she did, kind of like the grown up Wilona from Good Times) and Sinclair the budding actress. Although it was a comedy, their conversations and experiences were more "real" to me than Sex in the City's drivel - coping with visits from an overbearing mother, dating someone from your past, coping with romantic feelings for a guy who is like your brother. Honestly, do you know anyone who could buy a pair of $2500 shoes "just because"? Even the rich b-y
atches I know don't do that without a lot of contemplating.
What I also loved about "Living Single" was that of the 4 girls were all, well, fluffy. When was the last time you saw that on tv? What was even more exceptional was that there was never any discussion about how chunky the girls were nor were there any fat jokes, ever. In fact, the running joke was how Max managed to keep so thin even though she ate like a horse.
Oh, and you have to mention T.C. Carter who played Kyle the Stockbroker. If you don't get turned on listening and watching him sing "My Funny Valentine", your privates must have turned to ice decades ago.
Girlfriends (produced by uber-white Kelsey Grammar) was like the next generation of Living Single. There was Joan the attorney hopelessly looking for a husband, Toni the spoiled bitchy real estate broker (is that redundant?), Maya the ghetto fabulous leg
al secretary and later author, and Lynn the perpetually unemployed hapa hippy chick.
I found bits of myself in each character. Like Joan, I feel the need to personally solve all my friends' problems and often am unable to see all that I have around me in my search for that little teeny tiny thing that I feel I need to complete myself. Like Toni, I take great pleasure in dominating everything around me and I married and bred with a Jewish husband. Like Maya, I am a writer at heart and ferocious Mama Bear to my reluctant cubs. Like Lynn, I strive to live a pure, artistic life without any sense of financial responsibility (totally broke ass).
Once Toni left the show, it wasn't as fun anymore. Just like in real life. When one of your soul sisters leaves the coop, somehow the dynamics of the universe change and things will never be the same again.
I was and am a big TLC fan. Went out dressed as Left Eye one Halloween, complete with condom scotch taped to one lens of my glasses. Hey, I looked ridiculous but I did win the costume contest at Monterey Bay Canners in Ward Center (yes, it was THA
T long ago - Brother Noland still had all black hair). One of the new celebreality shows on VH1 is called "What Chilli Wants" and features post-Usher Chilli's quest to find love with the help of a matchmaker. The most recent episode included some scenes of a TLC reunion at a Justin Timberlake concert in Las Vegas. Rather than replace Left Eye, Chilli and T-Boz chose to include her in the concert by using video footage and vocals. As Chilli explained, it was destiny for the three of them to be TLC and that is why Left Eye will never be replaced.
That is how I feel about my friends, especially the close ones. While I make new friends and may not see my old ones as much as I used to, nobody can be replaced. The void someone leaves when they move will never be filled, the circle just gets larger to make room for the new girls in my hood.
With the economy the way it is, I have had to say goodbye to a lot of friends who moved to the Mainland for a variety of reasons. It doesn't get any easier to say goodbye, especially when you know that chances are, you will never see them again. It is particularly difficult to say goodbye to friends who are in your same age range and who are in the same situation as you - married with kids.
I look at my circle of sisters now compared to let's say 5 years ago and it skews a lot younger and a lot more single. I feel bad because they invite me to events and 9 out of 10 times, I have to decline. There are a number of reasons why I can't go - normal ones like Oscar the Grouch has to work late, my Mom won't watch all three of the kids or I have some last minute craft or baking project for school as well as ones that are due to my age like my bedtime is before the time they are planning to go out, there is no place to sit or no AC where they are planning to go, or one I had to give most recently, I have no idea who any of the musicians at the concert. Yes, I am truly ignorant when it comes to current culture as proven by my identification of Jack Johnson as "the guy who sings that Curious George song" much to the chagrin of my friend SH who thought I was totally kidding.
While I ADORE all of my friends, I do feel like the fat girl at the disco sitting in the booth, watching everyone else's purse when I go out with them. But you know what? I enjoy this role totally. They are all so vivacious and always "on" in a good way. For them, going out is a chance to socialize - to make business contacts, to possibly find Mr. Right, to enjoy an alcoholic beverage. For me, it is all about escaping from the kids for a while. I guess the primary difference is that they are appreciating being at the place we are at while I am appreciating not being at the place where I am usually stuck.
I realized that I am so not in the space this Friday when I went to a fundraiser with one of my best friends, GB. She was dressed to the nines and was having a ball, going up to dance in front of the stage and meeting new people. I spent most of my night walking the veterans to and from the bathroom and drinking coffee. I wonder if the difference between our time at the fundraiser had less to do with our current marital status' and more with our differing ethnicities. One of the vets asked me as she was up dancing, "Your friend NOT Japanee, yeah?" Yet, if you ask us both, we will say that we had a great night.
After I dropped everyone home, the two of us went out for dessert. I complained about having to make 70 petrogylph necklaces and cleaning up dog poop while she lamented the lack of eligible men our age. It was not so long ago that our roles were switches - she was the working mom of two small boys and I was single and dating. I was so envious of her life and wanted so badly to have a child-filled life like she had. Now, I find myself wishing I had the life she has - a good job, a wonderful condo, no kids, no hubby and most importantly, peace, quiet and FREEDOM! She keeps telling me how lucky I am to have such a full household. I guess it is all perspective - while spending evenings alone to her is a lonely experience, to me, it is a rare and precious jewel! With the chaos in my home, a night being by myself is something that I yearn for, having to answer to nobody but myself seems like it will never come.
Yet even though she is not Japanee and we are at totally different ends of the relationship spectrum, I know she will always be one of my best friends and my soul sister.
Actually, if I had a friend who was like me, I'd probably not want to hang around her very much....
Maybe it was the lack of color that drove me from the show? Yes, my friends and I have had discussions about "doing the deed" but it never included fruity pink cosmopolitans or an avalanche of witty puns. I don't ever recall a cosmo on the table ever but I do admit, there have been several mojito episodes. That was our cave to trendy drinking.
When I try to think of how my female friends and I relate to each other, it's more like the ladies of "Living Single" and more recently, "Girlfriends" - shows that feature African American women. The concepts of these shows are the same as Sex in the City - the daily lives of different types of women in different stages of life. In Living Single, you had Khadijaa the hip hop magazine editor, Max the attorney, Regine the retail buyer (gee, I think that is what she did, kind of like the grown up Wilona from Good Times) and Sinclair the budding actress. Although it was a comedy, their conversations and experiences were more "real" to me than Sex in the City's drivel - coping with visits from an overbearing mother, dating someone from your past, coping with romantic feelings for a guy who is like your brother. Honestly, do you know anyone who could buy a pair of $2500 shoes "just because"? Even the rich b-y
atches I know don't do that without a lot of contemplating. What I also loved about "Living Single" was that of the 4 girls were all, well, fluffy. When was the last time you saw that on tv? What was even more exceptional was that there was never any discussion about how chunky the girls were nor were there any fat jokes, ever. In fact, the running joke was how Max managed to keep so thin even though she ate like a horse.
Oh, and you have to mention T.C. Carter who played Kyle the Stockbroker. If you don't get turned on listening and watching him sing "My Funny Valentine", your privates must have turned to ice decades ago.
Girlfriends (produced by uber-white Kelsey Grammar) was like the next generation of Living Single. There was Joan the attorney hopelessly looking for a husband, Toni the spoiled bitchy real estate broker (is that redundant?), Maya the ghetto fabulous leg
al secretary and later author, and Lynn the perpetually unemployed hapa hippy chick.I found bits of myself in each character. Like Joan, I feel the need to personally solve all my friends' problems and often am unable to see all that I have around me in my search for that little teeny tiny thing that I feel I need to complete myself. Like Toni, I take great pleasure in dominating everything around me and I married and bred with a Jewish husband. Like Maya, I am a writer at heart and ferocious Mama Bear to my reluctant cubs. Like Lynn, I strive to live a pure, artistic life without any sense of financial responsibility (totally broke ass).
Once Toni left the show, it wasn't as fun anymore. Just like in real life. When one of your soul sisters leaves the coop, somehow the dynamics of the universe change and things will never be the same again.
I was and am a big TLC fan. Went out dressed as Left Eye one Halloween, complete with condom scotch taped to one lens of my glasses. Hey, I looked ridiculous but I did win the costume contest at Monterey Bay Canners in Ward Center (yes, it was THA
T long ago - Brother Noland still had all black hair). One of the new celebreality shows on VH1 is called "What Chilli Wants" and features post-Usher Chilli's quest to find love with the help of a matchmaker. The most recent episode included some scenes of a TLC reunion at a Justin Timberlake concert in Las Vegas. Rather than replace Left Eye, Chilli and T-Boz chose to include her in the concert by using video footage and vocals. As Chilli explained, it was destiny for the three of them to be TLC and that is why Left Eye will never be replaced.That is how I feel about my friends, especially the close ones. While I make new friends and may not see my old ones as much as I used to, nobody can be replaced. The void someone leaves when they move will never be filled, the circle just gets larger to make room for the new girls in my hood.
With the economy the way it is, I have had to say goodbye to a lot of friends who moved to the Mainland for a variety of reasons. It doesn't get any easier to say goodbye, especially when you know that chances are, you will never see them again. It is particularly difficult to say goodbye to friends who are in your same age range and who are in the same situation as you - married with kids.
I look at my circle of sisters now compared to let's say 5 years ago and it skews a lot younger and a lot more single. I feel bad because they invite me to events and 9 out of 10 times, I have to decline. There are a number of reasons why I can't go - normal ones like Oscar the Grouch has to work late, my Mom won't watch all three of the kids or I have some last minute craft or baking project for school as well as ones that are due to my age like my bedtime is before the time they are planning to go out, there is no place to sit or no AC where they are planning to go, or one I had to give most recently, I have no idea who any of the musicians at the concert. Yes, I am truly ignorant when it comes to current culture as proven by my identification of Jack Johnson as "the guy who sings that Curious George song" much to the chagrin of my friend SH who thought I was totally kidding.
While I ADORE all of my friends, I do feel like the fat girl at the disco sitting in the booth, watching everyone else's purse when I go out with them. But you know what? I enjoy this role totally. They are all so vivacious and always "on" in a good way. For them, going out is a chance to socialize - to make business contacts, to possibly find Mr. Right, to enjoy an alcoholic beverage. For me, it is all about escaping from the kids for a while. I guess the primary difference is that they are appreciating being at the place we are at while I am appreciating not being at the place where I am usually stuck.
I realized that I am so not in the space this Friday when I went to a fundraiser with one of my best friends, GB. She was dressed to the nines and was having a ball, going up to dance in front of the stage and meeting new people. I spent most of my night walking the veterans to and from the bathroom and drinking coffee. I wonder if the difference between our time at the fundraiser had less to do with our current marital status' and more with our differing ethnicities. One of the vets asked me as she was up dancing, "Your friend NOT Japanee, yeah?" Yet, if you ask us both, we will say that we had a great night.
After I dropped everyone home, the two of us went out for dessert. I complained about having to make 70 petrogylph necklaces and cleaning up dog poop while she lamented the lack of eligible men our age. It was not so long ago that our roles were switches - she was the working mom of two small boys and I was single and dating. I was so envious of her life and wanted so badly to have a child-filled life like she had. Now, I find myself wishing I had the life she has - a good job, a wonderful condo, no kids, no hubby and most importantly, peace, quiet and FREEDOM! She keeps telling me how lucky I am to have such a full household. I guess it is all perspective - while spending evenings alone to her is a lonely experience, to me, it is a rare and precious jewel! With the chaos in my home, a night being by myself is something that I yearn for, having to answer to nobody but myself seems like it will never come.
Yet even though she is not Japanee and we are at totally different ends of the relationship spectrum, I know she will always be one of my best friends and my soul sister.
Actually, if I had a friend who was like me, I'd probably not want to hang around her very much....
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