I am not a big award ceremony watcher, aside from the BET awards which always promise to deliver some sort of rapper on rapper on-stage diss and backstage beat down. I never watch the Oscars because the only movies I see in the theatres are the ones that have a merchadise tie-in with McDonalds. I try to force the Diva to watch the Tony Awards in a desperate attempt to use my Stage Mom powers and cajole her into returning to DHT or try out for anything remotely musical on the island. But most of the time, if there is an award show on Sunday, I'm usually tuned in to Bridezilla reruns or Making It Through on Kiku.
I did tune in last night to watch the Emmys, well, some of the Emmys anyway. I watched the pre-Emmy show on E because it was hosted by Ross Matthews who I adore and three comedians from Chelsea Lately. Because they were on during the day and the censors were standing by, their commentaries were not as biting and hilariously cruel as usual so I soon turned that off. I mean, when you have two snarky gay guys on a panel talking about donated jewelry and the level of excitement is like a bad QVC commercial, it's time to switch channels.
Of course, I watched the opening number, mostly because Jimmy Fallon had said in an interview that it involved the kids from Glee, Betty White and Kate Gosselin. That was a fantastic opening - esp. when Tim Gunn dressed Jimmy Fallon in the Bruce Springsteen attire, down to the red kerchief in the pants pocket. I'm sure everyone noticed that Kate Gosselin was kept way in the back row in every dance number and it was clear that even though she has returned to the warmth of her plus-eight home, she still has not managed to get her groove back. I don't think she realizes that simply dressing like a stripper does not magically endow you with the ability to dance like a stripper. Terrible, just terrible.
I didn't watch the whole show as I realized that I knew only about 10% of the actors, actresses and television shows that were nominated. I knew a few of the comedic shows, nothing about the drama category and had not seen one of the special programs or mini-series. The only category where I knew every show and could ID everyone who went on stage to accept an award was REALITY (please don't let Kim Kardashian sing again. Just because you have a big okole doesn't mean you can sing like Aretha Franklin).
Did anyone else think it was strange that a straight guy playing a gay character won best supporting actor in a comedy and a gay woman playing a straight character won best supporting actress in a comedy? Perhaps it was some kind of bizarre karmic justice for the whole controversy earlier this year about the gay guy from Will and Grace not being convincing as a straight guy on Broadway? I knew Jane Lynch was a shoe-in because the Sue Sylvester character from Glee has become iconic but I was hoping that Chris Colfer would win for his outstanding portrayal of Kurt. The guy brings me to tears in every scene he is in and his singing is angelic and pure. For many of us of a certain age, our television introduction to a gay person was via Pedro on The Real World. If you were any bit homophobic when The Real World started, chances are (if you had a heart anyway), your opinion changed 180 degrees at the end of the season. Yes, I cried when Pedro got married and when I heard he had passed away. I believe that Chris Colfer is the Pedro for my kids' generation. If you are a parent, watch the episodes of Glee where Kurt comes out to his blue-collar, mechanic father and is totally accepted by Dad for the person he is. That is the way we should all treat our children.
Okay, enough seriousness. As I was totally ignorant about 90% of the Emmys, I decided to compile a list of my own awards:
Show which makes you glad you aren't a rich, blonde white woman: Real Housewives of Washington DC (Bravo)
You know it is bad when even the ethnic folk are totally boring and drama means speaking to each other in overly enunciated syllables.
Show which makes you ashamed to be female: Bridezillas (WE network)
I have looked into the face of evil and it is draped in taffeta
Show which makes you understand why people think Asians are strange: Food Party (IFC)
If you have never dropped acid but want to know what it feels like, just watch this show. After one episode, you will feel like you have spent the past 15 minutes in a drug induced haze. Plus you will have the munchies.
Least stereotypically Asian TV personality: Ronald from Pit Boss (Animal Planet)
Ronald is always complaining about having work, drives pretty well and has a pet cat. How many Asian guys do you know who have a pet cat? Maybe his yellow-ness was diluted because he was adopted by a white family?
Most stereotypically Asian TV personality: The crew of the Nom Nom Bahn Mi truck on The Great Food Truck Race (Food Channel)
Three UCLA grads (but of course) are kicking butt on this show, selling Ba-le type Vietnamese sandwiches from a green food truck with Tokidoki-esq cho kawaii animal mascots. The two girls and the one guy are all adorable in the Korean Soap Opera idol manner. Being techno savvy, they have won for two weeks in a row by using social networking like Twitter to let people know where they are.
Show that makes me wish I was a guy: RuPauls' Drag Race (Logo channel)
In my next life, I want to be reborn as a drag queen so I can be beautiful, have a cutting wit and be sitting on a secret. I'm still seething that Tyra beat Raven and it's been months now.
Game show I want to be a contestant on: RuPaul's Drag U (Logo channel)
This is RuPaul's Drag Race for those of us with Buddha-given V-jay-jays. Femininity-challenged women are made-over by Drag Race contestants into drag divas. My kids are in a panic b/c they are casting for next season and I have told them I want to apply. They are really worried because in the most recent episode, one of the ladies flashed her nekkid huge rump to the judges to win.
TV character that I used to be like when I had a waist: Snooky from The Jersey Shore minus the sluttiness (MTV)
Okay, I was and still am on the chunky side, dressed inappropriately for someone on the chunky side, had big hair, lots of black eyeliner and was tanned (albeit real and not sprayed on). I wasn't as slutty as her though and if someone punched me in the face, I would not be crying on the ground but would kick the crap out of them.
TV character that I am like now: Roseanne
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
In the Good Old (End) of Summertime
The three spawns returned to school this week after nearly a month long Summer break at home with me. My analysis of the Summer is that it was a successful one since nobody ended up killed at the hands of an irritated family member, no parents were summoned to the Dean's Office just for a "talk", minimal nakimiso episodes with the Mad Cow, predictable frequency of hostile moments with the Diva and minimal having to drive home to pick up something the Professor forgot in one of his absent minded moments. If I'm not under CPS custody when school rols around, that's a major accomplishment.
To the children though, the summer was a terrible one because:
1) We did not travel anywhere like all of our friends did
2) We did not stay in a luxury hotel in Waikiki like all of our friends did
3) We did not see our friends enough because we don't live by them (5 minute drives don't count)
4) We had to spend time together at home like all of our friends did not
5) We had to spend time at the Clubhouse even though Mom doesn't work there anymore
6) None of our textbooks came in time for school to start and all of our friends had theirs because they all got new books at the Bookstore and did not have to buy them used online like we had to
7) We did not get to play with our cousins from the Mainland enough because Mom has a small car and cannot fit everyone in there while all of our friends' Moms drive SUVs or vans that can fit 8.
8) MAD COW did not purchase all of he puffles ever made like his friends did
9) DIVA did not get to go to Old Navy every day like her friends did
10) PROFESSOR did not get an IPad, new laptop or Droid b/c he was required to clean his room before doing so and none of his friends have to do that.
So, you see there is a trend here. Basically, everything sucked because of comparisons to or lack of friends. Each child counted down the days and hours before school started which seems to be a common occurrence amongst modern day niblets.
Is it just me but didn't those of us who are now Moms and Dads (well, OLDER Moms and Dads anyway) enjoy the Summer break and dreaded returning to school?
My favorite summer memories do not include buying some techno gadget or hopping in a plane to go somewhere with hoards of other demented families but involve some quiet moment spent at my grandparents' home in Moiliili - usually accompanied by my younger cousin RI. Our day started off with breakfast - wheat toast and orange marmalade for Grandma (what is it with Obaachans and orange marmalade anyway? Do you know anyone besides an old Japanese lady with a tight blue-haired afro who eats the stuff?), scrambled egg with a ham pattie from a can for Grandpa and toast with butter for us. Sounds totally boring but my Grandparents would jazz it up by making "crowns" for us out of paperbagss. When we finished out toast, we would put on our crowns and go "Da da da DAHHHHH" like in the Imperial Margarine tv commercial. For you young folk, this was slick advertising back in the day - eat butter, get a crown on your head (Imperial - crown, get it?). It didn't matter that we had a ghetto crown made of brown paper bag, we felt as regal and special at Queen Elizabeth at her coronation. There is no way you can have a sucky morning if you started it out with a crown on your head.
One day, my grandparents decided to throw us for a loop and serve Frosted Flakes. We were so thrilled that we ate like we had been on Survivor eating grubs for three months. Scarfed down the whole box - we had about six bowls each. Then we puked but to this day, I still get a little jazzed when I smell an open box of Frosted Flakes. There wasn't even Tony the Tiger then. Actually, I don't remember my grandma ever giving us cereal after that. I think she thought there must have been narcotics sprinkled on instead of sugar by the way we ate till be barfed.
My cousin and I would eat breakfast really quickly so we could watch Checkers and Pogo. As she was skinny and I was chubby, when we'd play, she would always be Pogo and I would be Checkers. This was a plus for the plump since I could whack her with stuff and tell her that I was just copying Mr. Checkers like on TV. While I admired Checker's ability to batter innocent vest-wearing bearded bumbling idiots, I really really wanted to be the evil, furry Superspy McPigg. How cool to spend ever moment of the day plotting the overthrow of Mr. Heftel's great empire and trying to recruit his nephew Sylvester to the dark side. If it was lucky number day, my Grandpa would spread out the stack of Checkers and Pogo magazines he had taken from Orange Julius at Ala Moana (always at least 20) and we'd see if we won anything.
It have been must be bachi because we never won once. Grandpa did win the lucky number once when he called in on J Akuhead Pupule's morning show (which he blasted out of his outdoor office every morning) and we were in heaven when we got to go to the KGMB studio to pick up our prize. It was a bag full of demo 45s from Bobby Goldsboro, a loaf of Loves Bread, some Hostess snowballs and KGMB bumper stickers, total value maybe $10. But my cousin and I felt like we had won the lottery, even though we didn't get farther into the place except the receptionist's desk.
My cousin was an outdoorsy kid but I was a homebody, stuck to my Grandma's side like glue. I would sit at the kitchen table and just watch her create magic at the stove. It seemed like no matter what sort of indistinguishable item she pulled out of the back of the freezer, it was transformed into something huge and onolicious once it hit the bottom of the black cast iro.n skillet Her fried chicken was better than the Colonels', her beef tomato was alluring even to us veggie hating kids and 'til this day, I still can't replicate the miso eggplant dish she cooked for me on special occasions. I used to think that my biggest lament was that my Aunty threw my Grandma's wedding kimono in the washing machine (it was supposed to be mine when I got married) and shredded it to bits but now that I have to cook to feed a Jewpanese army, I really wish I had found that cast iron skillet. Not only to cook with but to discipline the kids and Oscar the Grouch when needed. Think Medea.....
Of course, the taste might have had a lot to do with the holy trinity of high blood pressure inducing flavorings - salt, shoyu and Ajinomoto which was in everything Grandma made. However, no skillet or MSG could save the disaterous braised pig kidney dish Grandma made once after the "Mamasan" from church said it would be good for her health.
After lunch, my cousin and my grandpa would go walking to Times or McCully Superette to buy groceries for dinner while Grandma and I would head to the TV Room to watch her favorite "Story", the Young and the Restless. I remember watching the first episode ever of Young and the Restless which featured a young, handsome guy named David Hasselhoff playing Spencer. Back then, the shows were very simplistic in plot and characters - rich people were evil (boo Jill) and poor people were good (everyone who didn't hassle the Hoff) and never the twain should meet. My Grandma would launch into a running commentary during the whole program, treating the show as a real life documentary on the lives of horny haole people and explaining why Japanese folks would never act that way. Her favorite comment was "Men are dogs and they can sniff you out so be careful." Now, being a major dog lover as a child, I did not see why this was a negative but upon reaching puberty, I realized she was right.
My Grandma would take a nap after her stories and my Grandpa would do something that required him to climb up one of his six mango trees so my cousin and I would spend the bulk of our afternoons trying to figure out ways to keep ourselves entertained. We would go into the back yard and put on shows. More specifically, she would watch and I would pretend to be Jerry Lewis AND Dean Martin. Totally schizo when you think about it. We spent many a day digging up potato bugs in the dirt and putting them into cans (yes, we set them free but I never have quite figured out why this was such a fun thing to do) or picking up mangos that fell on the ground. If we were really really stuck for entertainment, we'd go in the house and read Better Homes and Gardens, Sports Illustrated or US News and World Report which were the only magazines Grandpa allowed in the house. Occasionally, one of my uncles would sneak in a Life Magazine and it would be quickly removed. This was due to us seeing the issue that featured photos of the people in Japan who were deformed from Mercury poisoning - resulting in both of us waking up SCREAMING that same night.
The highlight of every week would be taking Grandma to Dr. Bachman's Office at Ala Moana for her "hormone" shot. Our whole family loved Dr. Bachman who was referred to by our family as the "ching ching doctor" or "Dr. Penguin". While Grandma was at the doctors, Grandpa would take us to Keiki Land where he'd yell at us the whole time to warn us of the hidden dangers of each ride. If we put our hands out of the flying saucers, we'd whack them on the ceilings and break them. If we put our fingers in the water of the boat or stick them out of the Ferris Wheel cage, they'd get sliced off. If we honked the horn on the tanks too much, we'd be deaf. No wonder I still have PTSD when I go to an amusement park. If we waved, we'd fall off the Merry Go Round and crack out heads open. We were not allowed to play any of the games because only the "low class bad people" played pinball or bowling. In fact, we could not even venture near that area withoug Grandpa going into convulsions. Reading this, it sounds like a horrible experience but it was really fun and my first taste of rebellion. We'd watch Grandpa's every move and when he turned his back, we'd engage in one of the forbidden hazardous activities.
Our reward for being such good girls who didn't do what Grandpa said not to do was a doughnut of our choice from Dunkin' Donuts. Back then, being told we could choose from not only the regular doughnuts but also one with sprinkles or (ooh, luxury) one of the filled ones made us feel like we were living large. Surely that's what the rich people in Young and Restless ate, apple filled jelly donuts with cinnamon sugar.
Later, when McDonalds opened in Ala Moana, Grandpa took us there for our post-Keiki Land snack. He would always stump the cashiers by ordering "that potato thing that is fried" instead of ordering french fries. Who would have thought that but a few years later, he would have mastered the McD's menu enough to order "a filet of fish sandwich, no cheese, extra sauce and a chocolate shake with extra milk"? I'm sure the ancestors were churning up their ashes in the urns when the Chonan preferred American food to nishime from Shirokiya.
Now, contrast this to Mad Cow who on a recent visit to Ala Moana asked if we could have lunch at Mortons because he wanted to eat filet mignon (yes, he said it by name). Had to settle for Genki Sushi yet again as we still have a stash of gift certificates that Oscar won in a Star Bulletin auction.
Ah, perspective is everything!
My top five favorite summer moments:
1) Learning to make Mango Pineapple Jam by scratch from Grandma
2) Watching the Diva's DHT performances, esp. the one where she sang in the shower to "I Enjoy Being a Girl"
3) Going to The Professor's art show at the Academy of Arts
4) Seeing the Mad Cow's face light up as he waved to his Grandmas and Grandpas in the 100th during this year's Fourth of July parade
5) Sitting on the bench at Waiola Shave Ice on a hot afternoon with the three kids - eating and not fighting
To the children though, the summer was a terrible one because:
1) We did not travel anywhere like all of our friends did
2) We did not stay in a luxury hotel in Waikiki like all of our friends did
3) We did not see our friends enough because we don't live by them (5 minute drives don't count)
4) We had to spend time together at home like all of our friends did not
5) We had to spend time at the Clubhouse even though Mom doesn't work there anymore
6) None of our textbooks came in time for school to start and all of our friends had theirs because they all got new books at the Bookstore and did not have to buy them used online like we had to
7) We did not get to play with our cousins from the Mainland enough because Mom has a small car and cannot fit everyone in there while all of our friends' Moms drive SUVs or vans that can fit 8.
8) MAD COW did not purchase all of he puffles ever made like his friends did
9) DIVA did not get to go to Old Navy every day like her friends did
10) PROFESSOR did not get an IPad, new laptop or Droid b/c he was required to clean his room before doing so and none of his friends have to do that.
So, you see there is a trend here. Basically, everything sucked because of comparisons to or lack of friends. Each child counted down the days and hours before school started which seems to be a common occurrence amongst modern day niblets.
Is it just me but didn't those of us who are now Moms and Dads (well, OLDER Moms and Dads anyway) enjoy the Summer break and dreaded returning to school?
My favorite summer memories do not include buying some techno gadget or hopping in a plane to go somewhere with hoards of other demented families but involve some quiet moment spent at my grandparents' home in Moiliili - usually accompanied by my younger cousin RI. Our day started off with breakfast - wheat toast and orange marmalade for Grandma (what is it with Obaachans and orange marmalade anyway? Do you know anyone besides an old Japanese lady with a tight blue-haired afro who eats the stuff?), scrambled egg with a ham pattie from a can for Grandpa and toast with butter for us. Sounds totally boring but my Grandparents would jazz it up by making "crowns" for us out of paperbagss. When we finished out toast, we would put on our crowns and go "Da da da DAHHHHH" like in the Imperial Margarine tv commercial. For you young folk, this was slick advertising back in the day - eat butter, get a crown on your head (Imperial - crown, get it?). It didn't matter that we had a ghetto crown made of brown paper bag, we felt as regal and special at Queen Elizabeth at her coronation. There is no way you can have a sucky morning if you started it out with a crown on your head.
One day, my grandparents decided to throw us for a loop and serve Frosted Flakes. We were so thrilled that we ate like we had been on Survivor eating grubs for three months. Scarfed down the whole box - we had about six bowls each. Then we puked but to this day, I still get a little jazzed when I smell an open box of Frosted Flakes. There wasn't even Tony the Tiger then. Actually, I don't remember my grandma ever giving us cereal after that. I think she thought there must have been narcotics sprinkled on instead of sugar by the way we ate till be barfed.
My cousin and I would eat breakfast really quickly so we could watch Checkers and Pogo. As she was skinny and I was chubby, when we'd play, she would always be Pogo and I would be Checkers. This was a plus for the plump since I could whack her with stuff and tell her that I was just copying Mr. Checkers like on TV. While I admired Checker's ability to batter innocent vest-wearing bearded bumbling idiots, I really really wanted to be the evil, furry Superspy McPigg. How cool to spend ever moment of the day plotting the overthrow of Mr. Heftel's great empire and trying to recruit his nephew Sylvester to the dark side. If it was lucky number day, my Grandpa would spread out the stack of Checkers and Pogo magazines he had taken from Orange Julius at Ala Moana (always at least 20) and we'd see if we won anything.
It have been must be bachi because we never won once. Grandpa did win the lucky number once when he called in on J Akuhead Pupule's morning show (which he blasted out of his outdoor office every morning) and we were in heaven when we got to go to the KGMB studio to pick up our prize. It was a bag full of demo 45s from Bobby Goldsboro, a loaf of Loves Bread, some Hostess snowballs and KGMB bumper stickers, total value maybe $10. But my cousin and I felt like we had won the lottery, even though we didn't get farther into the place except the receptionist's desk.
My cousin was an outdoorsy kid but I was a homebody, stuck to my Grandma's side like glue. I would sit at the kitchen table and just watch her create magic at the stove. It seemed like no matter what sort of indistinguishable item she pulled out of the back of the freezer, it was transformed into something huge and onolicious once it hit the bottom of the black cast iro.n skillet Her fried chicken was better than the Colonels', her beef tomato was alluring even to us veggie hating kids and 'til this day, I still can't replicate the miso eggplant dish she cooked for me on special occasions. I used to think that my biggest lament was that my Aunty threw my Grandma's wedding kimono in the washing machine (it was supposed to be mine when I got married) and shredded it to bits but now that I have to cook to feed a Jewpanese army, I really wish I had found that cast iron skillet. Not only to cook with but to discipline the kids and Oscar the Grouch when needed. Think Medea.....
Of course, the taste might have had a lot to do with the holy trinity of high blood pressure inducing flavorings - salt, shoyu and Ajinomoto which was in everything Grandma made. However, no skillet or MSG could save the disaterous braised pig kidney dish Grandma made once after the "Mamasan" from church said it would be good for her health.
After lunch, my cousin and my grandpa would go walking to Times or McCully Superette to buy groceries for dinner while Grandma and I would head to the TV Room to watch her favorite "Story", the Young and the Restless. I remember watching the first episode ever of Young and the Restless which featured a young, handsome guy named David Hasselhoff playing Spencer. Back then, the shows were very simplistic in plot and characters - rich people were evil (boo Jill) and poor people were good (everyone who didn't hassle the Hoff) and never the twain should meet. My Grandma would launch into a running commentary during the whole program, treating the show as a real life documentary on the lives of horny haole people and explaining why Japanese folks would never act that way. Her favorite comment was "Men are dogs and they can sniff you out so be careful." Now, being a major dog lover as a child, I did not see why this was a negative but upon reaching puberty, I realized she was right.
My Grandma would take a nap after her stories and my Grandpa would do something that required him to climb up one of his six mango trees so my cousin and I would spend the bulk of our afternoons trying to figure out ways to keep ourselves entertained. We would go into the back yard and put on shows. More specifically, she would watch and I would pretend to be Jerry Lewis AND Dean Martin. Totally schizo when you think about it. We spent many a day digging up potato bugs in the dirt and putting them into cans (yes, we set them free but I never have quite figured out why this was such a fun thing to do) or picking up mangos that fell on the ground. If we were really really stuck for entertainment, we'd go in the house and read Better Homes and Gardens, Sports Illustrated or US News and World Report which were the only magazines Grandpa allowed in the house. Occasionally, one of my uncles would sneak in a Life Magazine and it would be quickly removed. This was due to us seeing the issue that featured photos of the people in Japan who were deformed from Mercury poisoning - resulting in both of us waking up SCREAMING that same night.
The highlight of every week would be taking Grandma to Dr. Bachman's Office at Ala Moana for her "hormone" shot. Our whole family loved Dr. Bachman who was referred to by our family as the "ching ching doctor" or "Dr. Penguin". While Grandma was at the doctors, Grandpa would take us to Keiki Land where he'd yell at us the whole time to warn us of the hidden dangers of each ride. If we put our hands out of the flying saucers, we'd whack them on the ceilings and break them. If we put our fingers in the water of the boat or stick them out of the Ferris Wheel cage, they'd get sliced off. If we honked the horn on the tanks too much, we'd be deaf. No wonder I still have PTSD when I go to an amusement park. If we waved, we'd fall off the Merry Go Round and crack out heads open. We were not allowed to play any of the games because only the "low class bad people" played pinball or bowling. In fact, we could not even venture near that area withoug Grandpa going into convulsions. Reading this, it sounds like a horrible experience but it was really fun and my first taste of rebellion. We'd watch Grandpa's every move and when he turned his back, we'd engage in one of the forbidden hazardous activities.
Our reward for being such good girls who didn't do what Grandpa said not to do was a doughnut of our choice from Dunkin' Donuts. Back then, being told we could choose from not only the regular doughnuts but also one with sprinkles or (ooh, luxury) one of the filled ones made us feel like we were living large. Surely that's what the rich people in Young and Restless ate, apple filled jelly donuts with cinnamon sugar.
Later, when McDonalds opened in Ala Moana, Grandpa took us there for our post-Keiki Land snack. He would always stump the cashiers by ordering "that potato thing that is fried" instead of ordering french fries. Who would have thought that but a few years later, he would have mastered the McD's menu enough to order "a filet of fish sandwich, no cheese, extra sauce and a chocolate shake with extra milk"? I'm sure the ancestors were churning up their ashes in the urns when the Chonan preferred American food to nishime from Shirokiya.
Now, contrast this to Mad Cow who on a recent visit to Ala Moana asked if we could have lunch at Mortons because he wanted to eat filet mignon (yes, he said it by name). Had to settle for Genki Sushi yet again as we still have a stash of gift certificates that Oscar won in a Star Bulletin auction.
Ah, perspective is everything!
My top five favorite summer moments:
1) Learning to make Mango Pineapple Jam by scratch from Grandma
2) Watching the Diva's DHT performances, esp. the one where she sang in the shower to "I Enjoy Being a Girl"
3) Going to The Professor's art show at the Academy of Arts
4) Seeing the Mad Cow's face light up as he waved to his Grandmas and Grandpas in the 100th during this year's Fourth of July parade
5) Sitting on the bench at Waiola Shave Ice on a hot afternoon with the three kids - eating and not fighting
Sunday, August 1, 2010
She With the Nicest Boob Wins
A few of you know that the REAL me is a frustrated artist. When I set foot in the Art Building at the UH campus for the first time 40 years ago (ARGH), I felt that harmonic convergence that comes with realizing you have found your true place in the world. The swaying green bamboo in the Courtyard, the minimalist angles of the classrooms and gallery, the kind of funky, paint covered sleep deprived hipsters logging their huge porfolios and giant sketchpads were as thrilling to me as the sight of a rescue boat would be to the folks on Gilligan's Island. This was HOME, what I had been yearning for all of my life from the moment I sketched a pear-shaped version of my Grandma on leftover newsprint my Grandpa "borrowed" from somewhere. The regret I felt over opting to stay home and not venture out to Los Angeles to attend the FIDM (for you non=Hills folks - the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising), vacated my body, floating into the sky like black smoke from the raku kilm.The intense happy happy joy joy did not last long. During my first week of Intro to Color class, I emerged covered from head to toe with hives. I chalked it up to having eaten something that didn't agree with me but class after class, it happened. Turned out that I had a newly discovered allergy - to paint fumes, any kind of paint fumes.
My kids are baffled as to why this had to halt my artistic endeavors. Why didn't I just go into computer art or use an IPad to sketch? I had to remind them that I was living in the Day of Dinosaurs when computer art meant painting a picture of a keyboard. Basically, I was told that the only way I would ever work in the field would be to request that my employer provide special fume-free paint which cost $$$$ per tube and as we all know, accomodating any sort of disability (even an itchy one) is not top of the list of any business. Even us artsy types who can spend years looking for just that right tone of burnt sienna but detest spending a minute balancing a checkbook know that the person who can work with regular supplies will be hired above the incredibly dedicated, talented artist with the environmentally induced chicken skin
So for those of you who always wondered why I became a lawyer, this is the reason. When all of your credits are in Art and Political Science and the Art path is closed, what else are you going to do with your 24 PolSc credits but become an attorney?
I still remain a closeted artist, holding tight to my indignation over the commercialization of artwork as evidenced by my earlier rant over Bravo's reality competition show, Work of Art. As much as I hate to admit it, I have watched every episode and have for the most part, agreed with the judges when it came to who's Work of Art was really a piece of crap (literally for performance artist Nao who apparently smeared feces over herself in the "shock art" challenge.
Where I totally disagree with the panel of judges is over repeated selection of artwork by contestant Jaclyn as the best in the gallery. Jaclyn's imagery of choice is usually her nude body - her big boobed, small waisted, uh-self-pleasuring body. Whenever she has presented a full frontal image of herself in an artwork, she has won. Whenever her work shows her from the back or does not include any nekkid-ness, she is on the bottom of the pack. What is terrible is that there is not even an attempt to hide or disguise the sukebei factor in the selection process. Mentor Simon described the work as successful because it got a "rise" out of him or he could not stop looking at the image or it continues to intrigue him. Hey, aren't those the same responses that 
most guys have looking at porn?
most guys have looking at porn?Nudity by other less attractive artists was shunned as gimicky or unappealing. If it was boobs they valued, then contestant Mark should not have been cut since his topless photographs showed that his clevage was way more impressive than Jaclyn's. (going by quantity anyway). Yet, the sight of a bare pair of moobs, even a ZZZ cup at that, did little to "stir" the mentor or the judge.
I am pulling for artist Abdi to win but I fear that the final contestants will be bitchy sex-bomb Jaclyn and the totally irritating, don't you want to just slap him Miles who epitomizes the tortured, socially inept, angst-filled artist stereotype. His last piece was constructed by him punching holes with his fist to punchture one large canvas painted white and one covered with black tar. It was heralded as the essence of male anger and machismo (in contrast to yet another painting of a naked Jaclyn which was intriguing in its depiction of the power of female sexuality). Maybe Abdi should have headbutted a big hole in his painting to show chaos and he would have won? But then, will a bunch of upper-class white folks (plus a hapa-girl whose intro name-drops Andy Warhol) understand an expression of black rage? It is much easier to adore insipid white whimpers.
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