Tag Archives: All the crazy shit I did tonight. Those will be the best memories

Hello Sweetie. I need to get a grip on reality.

Seeing how I have been on a midlife crisis overdrive…

Yes, I think I may as well come out and admit it to myself. I have been going through some sort of personal crisis ever since I started this blog in 2008. Some sort of late-onset-puberty/rebellious stage sans hyper-libido. *sigh*

For someone who’s 120% sincere and honest when she vomited a post titled With all due respect, I am fucking scared of getting old, and who’s scared out of her wits of turning into some sort of predator, really, the last thing you needed to show her was a show dedicated entirely to time travel and alternate reality, starring a nerdy yet sexy 29-year-old actor and a 49-year-old actress in one of the most romantic star-crossed-lover (literally in so many ways) storyline. [Oh god, don’t you just LOVE the British? This anti-Hollywood-rule pairing would never, ever, have happened in the U.S…]

What if… BEEEPPPP. Not allowed.

*red flashing light* Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize. *red flashing light* *Steel door coming down*

Brain. Shutting down. Nope. We never ever want to go there. Just stop it right now.

Someone that I don’t know particularly well cornered me in the office one day and asked me a very blunt question about my personal life. I laughed. I laugh a lot, I’ve noticed. I explained to her how I am an expert in compartmentalizing my thoughts and emotions. Because that’s how people survive and function in reality, no?

This. Is not a cry for help. I just need to get over it. It’s full moon after all.

It’s amazing how I’ve managed to not mention the thing I have been obsessed with for the past month even once. Moving along…

I have my own time warp right here: Found this mix tape made by a classmate of mine when we were in college. He made several mix tapes for a girl that he was pining for. [Incidentally, like a plague, I now recall at least four other guys were smitten with her at the same time in our senior year. Still can’t figure out why. We’ve all known each other all these years, and all of a sudden, finger snap, they all fell in love with her…] I have no idea whether he’s given her the tapes, but the rest of us swooned over the mix tapes and like the stereotypical “great guy who never gets the girl”, he made a copy for all of us. I wonder what happened to him. I hope he’s well. Whoever he’s with, I hope she’s not having what I’m having…

Compartmentalization. Complete.

My son turned 14 and I am wearing braces.

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There are 6 teenage boys now in my house and they are staying overnight until tomorrow noon. Sleepover is a misnomer: there will be NO sleep involved. They will be up all night, taking over the house while I hide in my locked bedroom. Fortunately my boy runs with the nerd crowd so give them each a Wii remote control and time flies, as they say, Mario Cart style. Of course, when the sun comes up tomorrow, I will be ushered into the Dawn of the Dead (Tired): these teenagers, being outside of Asia where the Tiger Moms roam, are untrained in the Tao of Midnight Oil Burning (“OMG. The teacher gives them so much homework. My son spent TWO HOURS last night doing his math homework!” Yah… I bit my tongue for that one.) They all talk a big game, and yet we know, tomorrow they will be complaining about headaches and extreme exhaustion and whimper like little babies. Thank goodness tomorrow also happens to be my least favorite day of the year – I have a slogan for it too, Spring Forward My Ass – so I am actually one hour closer to liberation.

Hurrah!

The lady brigade suggested lots of booze to help me survive the Night of the Undead. When in doubt, add Vodka. And sometimes, bacon. Unfortunately for me though, I have something in my mouth which, actually, is one of the biggest mistakes I have made in my life, I am convinced.

Last Saturday, I got Invisaligned.

Oh no no. Taking these suckers out is NOT an one-handed job. *He he. Rim shot?* All the glossy pictures featuring beautiful people do not show you the “anchors” on my teeth to secure the braces. These bumps make me look like a vampire (of the non-sexy variety) and make it a pain to take them out, and that means I basically have only limited windows every day to eat and drink. On the first day, I tore the bottom liner out of frustration and panic when I was dizzy with hunger. “What if I cannot take these things out and I have to stop eating for the next 12 months?!” On top of the dreadful task of taking the liners out (which reminds me of the first few days when I got my first contact lenses), I am also very very lazy, and I do not like the thought of having to brush and floss my teeth AFTER every bite or sip before I put the liners back on.

This is torture for a grazer. In this past week I have experienced thousands of moments when I thought about eating but could not. It’s revealing because, if not for my inability to do so, I would not have even given it any thought before I polished off say a whole bag of Sun Chips, or ate half of the strawberries while cutting them. Gone are the days to hold a ~~cocktail~~ giant beer glass and sip my Cranvodka the whole ~~day~~ night. No more lounging at Starbucks for hours. (Ok. Fine. I don’t get to do that anyway… But you get the point) I feel unsettled and restless the whole day, like something is wrong but I cannot quite put my finger on it. The promise of losing weight from this self-enforced starvation? Ha. I am half-starved for the past week but still managed to gain 5 lbs. HOW? Because when it comes time to eat, I eat like a starved person, like someone who has no idea when they are going to see food again. I now eat appetizers, main courses, AND desserts. After I am done with my meal, I survey the pantry and the fridge to find all things that I think I may have a cravings for later during the day and I shove them into my mouth.

At the same time, I also got a raging case of pink eye and was therefore rocking my geek-cred thick-coke-bottle glasses. Along with new braces, my weight gain, and the telltale rash around my waist band…

Liz Lemon: God, three weddings in one day, I’m going to be in Spanx for 12 hours. My elastic line is gonna get infected again.

I’ve had a week of low self-esteem, which meant only one thing: I needed food for emotional support.

Like I said, one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my life. So far.

Maybe I should try and top it with another bad decision? Maybe I should just say “Oh, fuck it”, and go have pizza, cake, chips and a big giant glass of Cranvodka tonight? I mean, it’s my kid’s birthday party right? I gave birth to that little guy (now measuring 5’10”) fourteen years ago so I deserve a night off from this mental torture device, right?

Happy Birthday, Number One Son! Let’s party! Separately of course. I am cool like that. You guys stay downstairs and watch mindless YouTube videos while I surround myself with all the food that I bought for you and watch an R-rated movie. Now who’s going to help mommy carry all the food and the bottle of vodka and cranberry juice upstairs?

Update: I did not even get to eat anything when the doorbell all of a sudden went off. “Are you guys expecting more people?” “No…” We opened the door and it was The Girls. Well, I guess I have officially thrown a cool party right if it’s been crashed? You’d be happy to know that after I corralled them into singing Happy Birthday and cut the birthday pies, I quickly grabbed my bottle of ready-made Costco Margarita (NO cranberry juice in the house!) and headed upstairs while leaving Mr. Monk, my 9-year-old in charge.

Thanks for the Memories

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I saw Duran Duran’s live concert on Friday. I have been excited and nervous about this for several months now. When I announced to my boss and my coworker that I was one of the lucky people with tickets to the sold out show, they said, “That’s embarrassing.” I LOL’ed. “No. We mean it. Don’t tell anybody!”

That’s the problem with a band called “The Pretties Boys in Rock” during the 80s when they were super popular. The magazines called them The Fab Five. And I remember arguing with my girlfriends who was the best looking. My favorite has always been Nick Rhodes. What can I say? I have a thing for guys with mascaras. Except Clockwork Orange… The other girls would always come back with John Taylor. Oh yes. That man (boy?) was gorgeous, with a square jaw that was perfectly chiseled. It makes you shiver just thinking about it. Curiously it was never Simon. Just seemed to be too obvious an answer to claim that your fav is the lead singer. Duh. Ho-hum. So we continued to fight between the Bass guitarist and the keyboardist.

I was apprehensive also because, well, I am a realist. How often when you are reunited with your childhood love do you find that present reality matches up to the memories you have been keeping in a vault?

When I got to Chicago Theatre, it became clear to me that I was not the only one there to relive my youth. I have never seen so many middle-aged women dressed “correctly” for a rock concert in one place. The ladies knew why they were there and they came prepared. There were so many women dressed in their rock regalia, complete with black stockings, chokers, pink (or purple or whatever) hair, and tattoos. Lots of tattoos. Almost everyone was wearing boots. I even saw a pink boa.

What would their teenage daughters have said?…

It was kickass and uplifting. Fuck those young girls who think WE should behave OUR age. But it was also depressing at the same time. I know I know. I have issues. But it made me sad to reflect on why I was there. To relive my youth. To grasp at something that was not there any more.

Fortunately I very quickly consumed four cran-vodkas and I was my ol’ spunky self again. (You’ve got to know I am being a bit sarcastic about the whole being spunky part…)

If you just google, you will see that Duran Duran has fully embraced the 21st century and social media, and that means they are all over Twitter. Not only was live Twitter stream with the hashtag DuranLive projected on the screen before the show started, in the middle of the show, there was an official Twitter session!

Nick, can I wear your red scarf for 5 seconds? #duranlive

Someone tweeted the girl in front of me is crazy. Am gonna assume that’s not me since im no longer a girl #duranlive

In the end, it was awesome. It was awesome not because they reminded me of the gorgeous boys that they once were. I am not saying they are not handsome any more. They still are. If you’re born with great bone structures, unless you totally fucked yourself up with drug and alcohol, time will be kinder to you than to the rest of us. John Taylor for one is still rocking that square jaw. *shiver* And of course, I swear to god, even from the back of the theatre, I could see Nick with his mascaraed eyes and his red scarf being all fabulous and sexy. They put on a great show with great energies, and boy, can Simon sing. In fact, I came home and watched some of their old performances from the 1980s, and I think Simon sings even better now. There is experience in his voice and performance. Like matured wine. Yum. And John can still rock that bass. And Nick… Well. Nick lives forever. (You’ve got to allow me to retain some shameless teenage fangirl crushing…)

Of course, knowing most of the lyrics and being able to sing along made this an even more awesome night. I was glad I went and lived through some time-space discontinuum phenon: It’s surreal to see your band crush perform live on stage, even if there was a 25-plus-year time gap.

For one night the crowd shared a communal experience. We sang. We danced. We screamed. We partied with our teenage selves.

(And in my usual, annoying way, I have to add this:) Then we went back to our normal lives. Most likely in the suburbs. Hopefully this stays with us a bit longer…

Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand

Just like that river twisting through a dusty land

And when she shines she really shows you all she can

Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande

Pictures of poor quality below and video compilation of even poorer quality after the jump.

Vegas Baby

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Anybody interested in listening to more of my drunken tales? This time in Vegas?

Well, no matter. I need to write this all down so I can relive my glory days when I am in my 80s… I sure do hope the Interwebs are still going strong “50” years from now…

We had never been on a vacation without the kids in tow until this past weekend. And thank goodness we did not have our kids with us. Otherwise The Husband would not be able to check out the top-optional swimming pool at our hotel.

TOPTIONAL.

That is the new word I learned from my trip there. Don’t you just love Vegas?

I am leaving on an early flight to NYC this morning, and I need at least 2 hours of shuteye since I have been sustaining on minimum sleep since we came back from Vegas. Therefore I will be brief, (and you all know “brief” is a relative term when you are dealing with someone who is borderline Narcissistic when they are talking about themselves…) I will make a list of things I can still remember as the massive amount of alcohol finally found its way out of my system.

1. It actually was not that startling to have a woman turn around and you found yourself face to face (?) with her boobs. Well, I am not a straight man so I cannot speak for them. For me, it was kind of natural anyway. Anti-climatic almost.

2. Young boobs are perky. Either that, or all these girls all have had boob jobs. Once you pass 30 though, your boobs start drooping. So enjoy them while you can. Or start saving money.

3. Older, trim and fit women’s boobs even if they do drape a little do not bother me at all. Yes, the young women next to me exclaimed quietly, “Ewww.” I so wanted to tell them, “Let’s see what yours look like when you hit her age.”

4. Men are hilarious when they pretend they are not looking. Ladies, you know what I am talking about.

5. This is a note to the girl who was competing against her (former?) best friend for the same young man’s attention: Taking off your bras somehow did not work, eh? Your friend put hers back on pretty quickly and guess what? The young man continued to talk to her while your boobs were bouncing up and down in the background. I am sorry. Next time, don’t try so hard. And I hope your (former?) best friend forgive you for trying to upstage her the second you got into the pool.

6. People watching is a lot more fun when it is TOPTIONAL.

7. In Vegas, Adult Shows mean TOPLESS. Duh.

8. Those boobs on stage are no larger than yours and oh my goodness they do not stand up like “Boing!” the way porn industry makes you think they do. They droop, a bit. Naturally. Due to gravity. They fucking droop. And they all look gorgeous. You chuckle at yourself because who would have thought that you’d found affirmation at the show Fantasy?

9. It is a brilliant idea to get well buzzed before you head down to the night club so you don’t spend all your money on those over-priced drinks.

10. Chuck Liddell is apparently somebody famous. (You found that out when the security personnel told you off “Please stop taking pictures!” even though you were taking pictures of the go go dancer). More importantly, he apparently can crush you with his bare hands, according to your husband, after you obnoxiously yelled Chuck Chuck Chuck! And your husband is no fun because you really want to say to Chuck, “Chuck, Asia loves you!” – a bold faced lie of course. But you are so drunk you could not fucking care.

11. You say and then yell some variation of “I am so drunk I cannot fucking care” throughout the night.

12. You don’t mind going and waiting in line at the bar because you are so drunk… yeah, and you keep on talking to random strangers.

Some young man asks whether you’d mind if he cuts in line to get some water from the bartender. You say, “You are so cute. Go right ahead.” While you are waiting, you ask him, “What’s wrong with you that you are drinking water? Are you Mormon or something?” He mimes giving you a pamphlet, and you laugh and tell him that your son sprinkles you with holy water as a joke. To which, the very nice young man feigns surprise, “You have a son?! Impossible. You look about 21!” Of course you thank him, “I will buy you any drink you want!” When you ask the bartender to give the young man a glass of water, the young man says, “I want to marry you right here right now.” You think, “Too bad he’s gay, and of course, I am married.” Then you send him off to have a great time “because that’s what young people are supposed to do!”

13. When you go back to the bar the 3rd time, you strike up a conversation with a nice gentleman from Hawaii who is a boxing club manager and whose fighters finally get invited to Las Vegas. In the middle of your conversation, you say to him, “Well, I just don’t want to see white people ruin Hawaii.” He bursts out laughing and tells you “You are real.” So of course you have to buy him a drink. And guess what he orders at the bar after the long wait? Pineapple juice. Yup.

14. So yeah, and then there is the part about you getting kissed by a girl. Twice.

15. Your husband actually got a picture as proof.

16. Maybe that was why he was not mad at all even when you dropped his Crackberry into the swimming pool.

A Night with the Band (with Twitter along the way)

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Friday, 22-April-2011

22:03:12 On my way to see the band The Boxer Rebellion that started at 10. It’s 10 now. Am nowhere near Double Door the bar/concert venue. Panic attack

22:04:58 I’m going by myself again. [I went to see them for the first time last September]. With extra tickets. Maybe I’ll give the ticket 2 some random passerby, reassuring them that they don’t have 2 talk 2 me

22:06:38 Forgive me 4 tweeting you sweet nothing nonstop. Going 2 see band by myself. Not yet used 2 it. Started having panic attack early on.

22:09:11 Tweeting helps calm my nerves. Like I have someone w me. Anybody write an academic paper about social media? Invisible Strangers as entourage?

22:11:27 I almost didn’t. Panic attack. Would’ve been easier 2 just stay home. I kept on delaying till husb said, Why are you still here? Get the F out!

22:13:59 It’s just a band. Not a big deal. After the last time [and the first time when I went to see them also by myself], I now know there’s no risk of me having to struggle to say no if a band member asks me to elope with him [because it did not happen and it will never happen, of course.]

[I actually felt quite embarrassed going all gaga when I met them last September for the first time. I think I managed to keep my excitement under wrap, appearing to be nonchalant. Not that it would have made any difference, but all four band members are married. More importantly, they don’t seem to be that kind of band attracting crazy psychotic screaming fans.]

[Fine. I guess telling people that their song “Flashing Red Light Means Go” saved your soul is by no means being nonchalant… How pathetic it was to have failed at being nonchalant in front of your favorite band?]

22:42:21 @SunnySingsBlues Thanks! I’m in! One vodka cranberry down and I’m one cool kitty. Inside my head at least!

22:46:47 @SunnySingsBlues Thanks!!! I am on 2nsd Vodka cranberry! [Less than 5 minutes. I was rather impressed by myself too!]

22:59:22 At the Boxer Rebellion concert! Sold out bitches! [From “OMG I don’t know what to do. I am so scared I don’t want to go!” to rubbing it in people’s faces. All in under one hour…]

The Boxer Rebellion at Double Door

[From @deathbydonkey: Hope you’re having fun. Solo concert outings can rock if you just go with it. It beats dealing with a non-fan companion, anyway.]

23:14:02 @deathbydonkey OMG. Totally agree!!!!

[And that’s why when The Husband said “Go and have fun by yourself!” I did not cry. I would have been so worried about him or whichever person I managed to drag with me not having fun and unable to fully enjoy the experience]

23:14:57 @melme thank you. Tweeps are the best people to go to concert with!!

[From @melme: Damn right!! Woo! Take it off!! 😉 ]

23:28:42 @melme Ok! Let’s just say I did! LOL

[Tried not to tweet too much during the concert. Most of the time I had my eyes closed and it felt like I was there all alone, with the band. Just the music pounding, pouring, seeping into every fiber. The most gratifying thing to witness was how much fun they’re having on stage. It almost made me feel jealous. I wish I could play an instrument, or sing, or paint, or sew, just anything really.]

Saturday, 23-April 2011

00:24:50 @doubledoor Here’s a shout out to Mark the bartender who loves his job and Andy who’s adorable!!!

[Here I was sufficiently buzzed that I became extremely friendly and talkative, in a non-slutty way, at least I hope so… I was even able to talk to Mark at the bar. Probably because he called me Sweet Heart. I wished him a happy weekend, to that he replied, “I will be working though.” I asked, “But not bad if you love your job, right?” A pause. “Yes, I do love my job.” “Well, that’s more than what a lot of people could say.” He nodded somberly.]

[Regarding “Sweet Heart”: I knew not to get carried away by terms of endearment such as this. That’s merely a sign that I have aged. When you reach a certain age, people start being nice to you and calling you “Sweet heart” “Young lady”, thinking they are doing you a favor. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that.]

00:25:44 I’m at the “I am lucid but I care no shit” stage. 5 vodka cranberry later.

[See? Tru dat!]

00:29:50 It’s endearing when the band is small enough that they are at the mercy table to talk to the fans

[It’s supposed to be MERCH, for “merchandise”, table. But the typo was kind of correct in the way that the bands are at the mercy of their fans when they are on their way to make it]

[They’re really really awesome and sweet. I did tell Todd the lead guitarist (See? I am hinting that I am on the first name basis with the band!) that I am a psychotic fan. ZOMG. I really should have kept my mouth shut. But I cannot control what comes out of my mouth whenever I am nervous. Perhaps next time I should preemptively put my foot in my mouth… He asked me what my Twitter handle was. “So, you are subWOW?!” Ok, he probably did NOT sound that excited. Just let me think that he did, ‘k? He and Piers the drummer (pretended to) remember meeting me last year. See? I told you they are very kind…]

Todd and Piers at The Empty Bottle last September

Me as an apparition (last September)

[Here’s something else that I told Todd, “I look forward to the day when you are so huge that I would no longer get to talk to you like this.” And I mean it.]

00:45:24 Asked the band mebers of @BoxerRebellion to sign my arm, Nathan the lead singer responsibly told me I’d regret it. We shall see.

Picture from last time: Todd & the lead Singer Nathan who told me this time that I'd regret having them sign my arm. Nathan's a Southern gentleman, naturally.

01:06:15 Do people know, for realz, in details, what they have to give up when they have kids and move to the burbs?

01:08:21 Like a pseudo bipolar that I’m, I’m coming down from the high from talking to my favorite band straight to the pit.

01:09:31 On the train back to the burbs. Feeling like being turned back into a pumpkin. Do men feel the same way too?

[Before I stumbled off the train, I saw this guy with a big giant tattered duffel bag eating peanut butter out of the jar. I have no idea what came over me, not pity nor sympathy. I think it was closer to a sudden surge of love that I felt towards my fellow human beings. I pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to him. “Happy Easter!” I said, and I quickly ran off. He did not even look up but smiled to himself.]

[Intermission: Driving. I really did not want to be turned back into a pumpkin…]

01:43:06 2 am. At the quintessential American melting place: highway oasis. Here everyone is passing by

01:46:25 I do appreciate the fact that my husb is ok letting me out by myself being a tramp.

01:48:37 Sitting here at the empty oasis, I’m humming Hallelujah. I’m not even Christian…

01:59:25 I really like the oasis like this: quiet, with free Wi-Fi. I enjoy watching the cars, imaging jumping off. Of course I won’t.

[Did you know this French word, L’appel du vide? “The call of the void” would be the literal translation. It refers to the urge to jump from high places…]

02:35:00 Listened to Queen’s A Night at the Opera all the way home. Truly my favorite album. What I would not give to watch Freddie Mercury live.

02:59:18 You know how they made Mama Mia with Abba song? Someone should make a musical based A Night at the Opera.

03:00:50 Why? Yes! I have been sitting in the garage listening to A Night at the Opera since I got home. How did you know?

p.s. I did update the tweets to correct the typos and grammars, update the abbreviations, so it is easier to read and understand.

I’ll take the one on the left to go

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I am letting it all out today.

What you are looking at is my butt. Well, half of my butt: I had to crop the top of my butt off so you cannot see my muffin top. Ok, so technically, I am not really letting it all out today. Just half out.

I took these pictures when I went to a Warehouse Sale for 7 for All Mankind. Because it meant the potential of buying jeans that did not have any stretch capability in them and allowed my muffin top to hang over the low-rise top like an over-risen bread dough for a whopping… WAIT FOR IT… 20 to 30% off, I proceeded to get jiggy with it, ~~struggle~~ wiggle out of my clothes, and strip nekkid right inside the Union Station. Only to notice later that there was a camera pointing right at the makeshift dressing area.

Did I scream and run away when I noticed the security camera? Nah. First of all, I took a picture of it. (Of course!) Then I felt sorry for whoever had to sit there and watch. Besides just at that moment, I noticed that my butt looked different in the two types of mirror they had there (as you could see for yourself): my problem area, as many of the diet programs would call it, looked decidedly less wide in one mirror than in the other. I was very excited about my discovery: My own magic mirror! I stared at my own butt, the one on the left, with appreciation. I committed it to the memory vault for future emergency use.

No. I did not buy the mirror on the left. I tried but they wouldn’t let me. The guy just looked at me like I was crazy.

What? Oh. Duh. Of course the one on the left is my real butt. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Like all of you here, I am ~~obsessed~~ fascinated with and intrigued by Search Terms.

Compared to some of the search terms that led people to the other blogs out there, Yes you know who you are, the ones that led people here are lame.

“Tiger balm in ass”. Funny but not jaw-dropping eye-popping funny. I don’t even want to know why people searched for that. OUCH.

I am also worried that people may actually be disappointed when they come to a page on my blog and realize that it is NOT what they have in mind, for example, when they typed in “Wedding Invitation” and they saw THIS.

Anyway, I have been noticing a trickle of people searching for “People of Walmart” AND “Muffin Top Belly” and landing on an old post of mine written when I first discovered People of Walmart with uber excitement.

It showed up again today.

Muffin tops.

Yeah. I have a big one of those myself. I KNOW that me getting rid of my muffin top would be one of the Top 10 Wishes on my husband’s wishlist. I don’t understand. I see my muffin top as a safe guard for our marriage. There is NO way I would want another person in this world to see my muffin top. So there goes the risk of me having an affair. Just sayin.

Food for thought.

You are welcome.

p.s. For more exciting key words that REAL people ACTUALLY used for their Internet searches and frankly, that make you worry about humanity, Elly over at BugginWord does a weekly column on Search Terms that led to her site (I like calling these things “Weekly Columns”, it makes us all sound more sophisticated, with our cardigans and fountain pens and stuff…)

Procrastinating

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It is 3:50 am.

I am a night owl.

I think I am so by necessity: when I was in high school, it was necessary to stay up and “burn the midnight oil” so to speak in order to deal with all the tests and homework that Asian countries are so famous for; in college, I stayed up because drinking and shooting breeze while sitting on the curb in the middle of the night was all kinds of awesome; in grad school, I stayed up because I lived in a dorm room that was just wide enough for the pullout bed and therefore I stayed out of it as late as possible so I would not be swallowed up by the monster of loneliness; now I stay up because the wee hours are the only time that is my time. Quiet time. MINE. I can enjoy being with myself, the quiet inside my head.

I realized one of the reasons I love Christmas so much is because during this time, the soft glow from the Christmas tree keeps me company when I putter around the house. It is simply magical. In the glowing light, even folding the laundry is fun.

Yes I said that.

Indeed, a lot of things are more fun when I can take my time doing it, in complete silence, without being needed.

I am hoping this list of things includes packing because our flight is this morning and I have not even started packing yet. I have been doing everything else but that. But of course, with all this NOT PACKING, I failed to follow the Lunar Eclipse. But I made it up by watching this video a few times while giggling to myself. In the dark. In the soft glow cast by the tree yonder…

Total Eclipse of the Heart: Literal Video Version

Outside is covered in a nice thick layer of fresh snow. Inside is warm and dark except the tree. It is perfect and I wish it would last, that I could continue to not pack.

4:15 am now.

Off to fold the laundry.

Sundays in My City – Halloween Edition. Naturally.

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This has got to be the best week for Sundays in My City hosted by Unknown Mami.

Halloween is our favorite holiday and here are all the reasons why…

The sun has set. The day is coming to an end. Back to reality people!

As Mr. Monk, my youngest, said to me when I was trying on my wig, again,

“Mom. You need to stop walking around the house wearing wigs.”

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

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Jack B referred to The Rocky Horror Picture Show in his comment, and all of a sudden I was transported back to when I first arrived in this country. I started remembering these bits and pieces of my times in the US when I was, for all intents and purposes, an FOB.

You may still remember my tale of landing in the middle of corn field where the Champaign-Urbana airport is located and wondering why everything looked different from the American films I had seen back home. I wanted New York! I knew the Midwest was going to be different. But CORN FIELD as far as my eyes could see? *sobs*

It was the summer of 1993 when temperature routinely reached over 90+ (at least as I recall). As I struggled to my dorm room with my two gigantic suit cases (in one of them I had packed a rice cooker, typical ~~FOB~~ international student behavior), my jaw dropped when the door opened to reveal a tiny, tiny closet masked as a “room” with NO air conditioner. Tears started stinging the corners of my eyes.

It was a nightmare. I had made a mistake.

The International House (or whatever the department that is in charge of the lucrative trade of luring international students who receive no financial aides and pay full price) paired the newly minted students up with volunteers who would introduce these foreigners to the American culture. They forgot, however, that most of the foreign students were GRADUATE students (so perhaps a bit on the geeky side? Definitely not walking on the wild side… ) and the volunteers were all young undergraduates. My “volunteer” showed up at the door of my dorm room and, picture this: Tina from Glee reminded me of her. Only that this girl standing in front of me was a bit more Goth (before I even knew what Goth was and that Goth existed).

We had an uneventful “getting to know you” session at a coffee shop. The conversation was halting at best. Remember: I landed in a strange country less than a week ago and I had no prior experience ~~conversing~~ chitchatting strictly in English. Before we ended our first session, she mumbled something about taking me to a movie. Sure. I am game! But why did she ask me to bring a water gun, toast, and to wear a rain jacket? I was certain I had heard her wrong.

At this point, the memory channel gets really fuzzy. All I remember now is confusion. Lots of it. I remember there was a movie playing in this auditorium that was not particularly clean. I seem to remember that “Tina” was a bit annoyed I had showed up empty-handed. There were people on stage dressed in outlandish costumes. I distinctively remember a guy in revealing women’s lingerie (and yes, it did take me a while to realize that was a man in full makeup and a full wig…) and stuff being thrown at various moments throughout the movie.

Oh. That’s what the TOAST is for.

I was sprayed with water and saw toilet paper rolls fly through the air. I also remember having popcorn dumped on me but that could just be real popcorn for eating at a movie theatre and not part of the Ritual.

Now some guy (Was it the guy in drag? I can’t remember for sure) ~~asked~~ demanded,

Where are the virgins? Give us the virgins! Where are you? Stand up if you are a virgin! Get up here. NOW!

Again, utter confusion as I desperately leafed through the pages inside my head to locate the word “virgin” and its definition.

OOOOOOOHHHHHH.

I was not. I thought.

Think again.

“Tina” pulled me up from my seat and physically delivered me to the stage… I was not a ham the way I am now. I was not at ease at all standing there, spelling out AWKWARD in blinking neon letters with my mere presence. I am pretty sure I was insulted (as demanded by the Ritual) but thank goodness for my lack of verbal English comprehension back then. The audience surely was laughing, slapping their thighs, cat calling.

I think I blanked out this part of my life: the rest of the evening after the man declared we were hereby deflowered and were no longer virgins and were allowed to get back to our seats. More screaming and foot stomping and cat calling. For something that should have been memorable to the extreme, curiously, I cannot remember what happened afterwards and NO alcohol nor medication was involved.

“Tina” and I never saw each other again after this. Heck, I don’t even remember her name. As a matter of fact, I did not remember this episode in my life, my indoctrination into crazy American Pop Cultures, until Jack’s comment. So thanks.

My only regret is that I wish I had a blog back then (since keeping a journal has always been out of the question for me – it’s just not for me). I would have recounted everything as soon as I got back to my sauna closet. Wait. Wait. I would have taken tons of pictures. Just imagine: The awesome blog fodder. The even more awesome tantalizing title for this post:

I Lost My Virginity at the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The Absence of Alternatives

My therapy sessions…