Posts tagged as:

vent

Homebody

December 29, 2010

in random

Less than a year after we started dating, my husband brought me home to meet his parents during the winter break. Ever since that year, we have been spending Christmas at my in-laws in Maryland. The fact that my folks are not in the U.S. simplifies things since we don’t have to fight over which set of grandparents to visit. And in all honesty, even if my folks were here, I would have supported the idea of celebarting Christmas with my in-laws because they are the Christian and this is a holiday that holds a special meaning for them, especially my mother-in-law.

It does get a bit claustrophobic whenever I am here because we do not do anything. We sit around the house and enjoy each other’s company. We read and we watch movies on DVDs. This is all fine and dandy for the first three days. After that, I would get myself a severe case of cabin fever, knowing that Washington D.C. is only a 45-minute train ride away.

I do lobby for a visit to the Smithsonian every year. This year we did the tour of the White House, finally, and I even managed to force the husband and brother-in-law to have lunch in Dupont Circle. Can you believe it? I have been coming to Maryland since 1995, and this was the first time I had eaten there. If not for Dufmanno, I would not have known a place as cool as Adams Morgan existed.

Yes, I know every guidebook mentions all the cool neighborhoods. In my feeble defense, when your in-laws LIVE so close to D.C. you kind of do not feel the need to pick up a tourist-y guidebook…

I have never been to Georgetown. There. That should settle how pathetic it is. I am. We are.

I love them dearly but these people are homebodies.

Example 1: When we visited my husband’s grandmother and aunt in a Boston suburb in 1996, I found out that my husband and his brother had only been to Boston once. ONCE. They had been visiting the grandmother EVERY SINGLE YEAR and the aunt’s house is a mere 10-minute drive to a T station.

Example 2: The family gets together for one week every summer at the Outer Banks. We go to the beach and read. That’s it. The highlight will be having Chinese take-out one night and going to the 4-screen movie theatre one afternoon.

What’s more: they make me feel so guilty, like there is something wrong with me, for wanting to GET OUT.

On the third day of our trip here, I volunteered to go to the store, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. My mother-in-law, let me preface with this, a very kind and gentle person whom I get along famously well with and from whose mouth I have never heard of an ill word of others, jokingly commented, “You are itching to get out of the house, aren’t you?” “No. Me? Noooo. I just thought I’d go to the store for you.” “It’s ok. We don’t need anything right now.”

I don’t even feel comfortable saying, “I am going to Starbucks” because why do you need to go spend that money if you can have a perfectly good cup of coffee at home? Unless you are a spoiled spendthrift. And why do you need to leave the house when you don’t need anything? Unless you dislike the company of the people around you.

So that’s what I have been doing so far ever since we got here last Tuesday. RELAXING. There were days when I did not see the sky at all. It seriously stresses me out to no end. I feel so restless.

I am just a bad case of spontaneous combustion waiting to happen.

I hope I don’t trigger the alarm when I go through the airport security tomorrow.

{ 28 comments }

Warning: The following is BUI – Blogging Under the Influence. Like, now.

I went to a company shindig tonight. Great people. Fun people. People that I have worked with for five years and with whom I have been through a lot. The company is celebrating a wonderful event and everybody is in a good mood. We feel that we have finally got to the point where we can say: This. This makes it all worth it.

The event was open bar. That means yours truly started drinking as soon as she set foot in the room and by 6:30 pm, I have already downed four glasses of cranberry with Grey Goose vodka. (Yes, I am fortunate enough to work for a very generous company…)  This woman who happened to be by my side the whole time started saying, “Is that your fourth drink?” “That’s your fourth drink, isn’t it?” And she looked at me the way people look at you when they think you are drunk. (Come on, you know what I mean!) I reassured her that I was absolutely not drunk. That what she was seeing was the REAL ME. A little bit crazy. A little bit sassy. Very very friendly. Very very very flirty. Very very very very funny. And LOUD. She was not convinced the way people think you are definitely drunk when you protest and say “I am NOT drunk.”

No offense. But how the fuck did I get stuck with women? Young women. Women who are still on the market and therefore need to maintain a ladylike presence and continue to exclaim at my “bad” behaviors.

ETA (The morning after…) I have to tell you what happened just now (The morning after the company shindig) because it’s just priceless: I showed up at 8:30 am, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for action (work-related).  So the same woman who counted how many drink I’d had 30 minutes into the party? “Good morning! How are you feeling today?” In a way, you know, how people say it when they think you are having a massive hangover (For the record: I was not even drunk. Scout’s Honor. I drank 2 bottles of water and took 4 Advils before I went to bed. No hangover). Then she commented, “You have two kids right? You must not get out much.” Seriously? WTF?

All the men I work with know that I can hold my liquor very well. They may not want to admit it but I know they are impressed. They may be secretly pissed that I can drink more than they, but hey, they know it is the truth. And they don’t make a big deal out of it.

Can I tell you something? I love being one of the guys. I do. I love hanging out with them drinking. In college, I was never treated as a “girl”. I was their buddy. And I enjoyed every second of it.

At the end of the company shindig, the original plan was to continue the merrymaking somewhere else. The plan suffered a drastic blow when some guy who does not know me very well said, “Well, we are going some place to drink whiskey and stuff and probably do some ‘sexist’ things.” I had no idea what that meant but I was intrigued. Then one of the guys that I am pretty close to said, “It’s just a bunch of guys holding their penises and drinking whiskey!” You know what? I don’t care! I want to see them hold their penises and I’ll grow a penis and I’ll go!

But no. The womenfolk decided to go hang out at a different bar because we’d let men do what men do.

Huh?

So I ended up at a post-party party that’s not really a party and I was so fucking bored. Unfortunately for yours truly, I was also the oldest person there and I could not be interested in whatever they’re talking about. Half way through the torture of sitting at the table and nursing my seventh drink for the night, I went to the lady’s room to brush my hair. I was there for half an hour and I was happy.  When I came out, I found that my “girlfriend” decided to play pool. In my mind, you only play pool when you are trying to impress guys with your nice behind when you stick it up in the air. Since I am happily married, I have no fucking interest in playing pool. So I left. I came back to the office and I am just sitting here, wishing fervently that I had a penis.

I will be heading to New York City on Friday morning to partake in the madness that is BlogHer. It strikes me as hilariously ironic that right before my trip to BlogHer, aka WOMEN GALORE, I am sitting here, hating myself for succumbing to the female peer pressure and staying with the “girls”. I wish I had said, “Sorry ladies. I am going with the guys because you ladies have some images to uphold and are not crazy enough for me!” Especially since it turned out that the invitation to go hold penises and drink whiskey was actually extended to me.

Instead I am sitting here in the deserted, dark office, blogging.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. Give me some crazy women to party with at BlogHer. Women who don’t care how they look to the others. Women who don’t tsk tsk at you because you are not being “proper”. Women who are not secretly embarrassed to be seen with you and are not doing a good job hiding it. Women who don’t count the number of your drinks.

I need some crazy biatches to party with me in New York City. ARE YOU LADIES CRAZY ENOUGH?!

By the way, in case you are wondering whether I am a traitor to my sex. No ladies. It’s really just a vent above really. I don’t really want a penis. And I love shoes. In fact, I freak out about shoes once in a while. And like most, if not all, of you, I went overboard on the “shoe planning” front last week when I realized BlogHer is THIS FRIDAY AND SATURDAY!

Boxes of shoes 600x382 Wanted: Crazy Bitches to Party With at BlogHer

What boxes? You mean these? Oh don't worry. I am returning most of them...

.

Shoes Wanted: Crazy Bitches to Party With at BlogHer

Fine. I will NOT be keeping them all. Party pooper!

{ 24 comments }


Relaxation visual 600x398 How I relax

Visual Representation of My Thought Process





To all the people watching, I can never thank you enough for your kindness to me, and I’ll think about it for the rest of my life. All I ask of you is one thing: Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism: it’s my least favorite quality, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.

– Conan O’Brien





p.s. The picture is from our vacation in Maui in 2008. It was warm. No snow. I was on vacation. No work. My job was secure then. No impending doom. And my kids were still just kids. No freaksoid preteen (Such a category is not even named in Chinese so how do you expect me to deal with this phase?!).

p.p.s. Great. The picture was supposed to help me relax. Now it simply reminds me of things that once were.

p.p.p.s. If I were given $32 million dollars, I could probably also afford to be un-cynical.

p.p.p.p.s. Ok. That sounded VERY cynical.

p.p.p.p.p.s. Sorry. Coco.

{ 22 comments }

Chicken and Egg

January 4, 2010 through the looking glass

I wonder what the statute of limitations is for going on and on and on about a trip one took in the blogosphere. Bear with me here: there is an urgent whining I need to unload… WTF ASIA?! What’s up with all the skinny bitches? If you know me, you know that I’d be the [...]

41 comments

New Year’s Resolutions? Bah Humbug!

January 1, 2010 random

I don’t understand why people complain about the frenzy over Christmas yet fail to be annoyed by the hype around New year’s Day. Ok, yeah, I understand why. But I am taking some “poetic license” here… It is probably just me: No will power. No desire to improve myself. Disillusioned by year after year of [...]

31 comments

In which I complain about my seat on the plane… *yawn*

December 27, 2009 through the looking glass

I finished reading the book that I brought with me 3 hours into the flight. What now? Should have saved the book for the trip rather than greedily starting it before Christmas. With the detour to Sarah Palin’s homeland I now have an even longer flight with no reading material. And sitting in the middle seat [...]

16 comments

Play the Sad Trombone: I can’t sew to save my life

October 26, 2009 no manual for parenting

I visited Sad Trombone just now. Yet again. I am Today’s Failure #8418. My failure today, as a mother: I can’t sew worth a damn. I am not talking about elaborate arts and crafts. I am talking about simple hemming. I failed Home Ec in high school. Or, rather, I cheated otherwise I would have [...]

16 comments

Sorry mommy can’t come to the school, but don’t grow up and murder people ok?

October 9, 2009 therapy in session

I was reading the article about the so-called Craigslist Killer, Philip Markoff, in Vanity Fair, and like almost everybody, I wanted to find out, perchance through this detailed article, WHY?! Stories like this, a bright young man from a well-to-do family with a seemingly normal upbringing make people especially anxious.  If you cannot explain WHY, [...]

3 comments

In addition to the Pre-nuptial agreement, draw up a chore chart and sign on the dotted line!

September 13, 2009 random

The following is a rant against men who do not help out around the house.  You have been forewarned… I hesitate in calling myself a feminist. Because I am embarrassed.  Not because of the label, but because I would be living a lie if I call myself one.  I am the woman that Feminists hold [...]

4 comments

Live squid is not part of the standard diet in China, or Asia for that matter

August 13, 2009 imho is just a polite way to say I know you don't give a hoot what I think but I'm going to say it anyway

Once in a while I get all riled up with my mouth foaming like a rabid dog. My irrational anger especially loves a good target of Stereotype Mongers and Exoticism Panderers. This is that kind of moment. PMS. Whatever. The target of my rant today is this book: Lost on Planet China: The Strange and [...]

2 comments