Tag Archives: imma crazy like that

Saturday Smörgåsbord

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I have been watching SpongeBob with Mr. Monk this whole day except when I am being the Chauffeur. (And I know I am not the only Weekend Chauffeur around here…) You know what I admire SpongeBob the most? He does not seem to understand the concept of Envy and Jealousy, and therefore he is always genuinely over-the-top happy for other’s good fortune, accomplishment and success.

He is, in fact, always happy.

For this rare virtue, he comes off as insane. Unaware. Unhinged.

(Ok, fine. For you anti-random-theorizing folks out there, SpongeBob comes off as insane mostly because he understands spoken words literally…)

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It is cold. As in…

I half expected to see a polar bear floating by on one of these pieces of ice

Breaking the ice. Literally.

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My husband complained about me not responding to his email or just in general, plainly ignoring him while he travels abroad on business. What can I say? I am the Champion in Compartmentalizing. Guilty as charged. So I sent him this picture above and wrote, “Wish you were here!”

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Completely unrelated. Really. I swear. Girl Scout Honor. I just saw this on our fridge and I am proud of our family motto, so I took a picture of it. That’s it. Really. Not trying to say anything. Not a comment at all.

The Cure

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Seeing how many of you are under the weather or are boarded up in your camp of resistance against some full-on attack by Black Death, I thought I’d introduce you to Tiger Balm.

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It cures everything.

In the same fashion that Chris Rock introduced us to the omnipotent healing power of Robitussin. “‘Mo’ Tussin’! MO’ TUSSION’!”

Got a headache? Rub some Tiger Balm on your temples and behind the ears.

Got sinus pain? Rub it on the sides of your nose.

Got nasal congestion? Rub it under your nose.

Chest congestion? Rub some on your chest.

Aching muscles? Rub it all over the problem areas.

Joint pain? Rub it on the troublesome joint.

You got a tummy ache? Rub some on your tummy.

Itchy from some pesky insect bites. Rub it on!

Rub it on wherever it hurts or itches.

Warning: DO NOT GET IT ANYWHERE NEAR YOUR EYE. I learned that from actual experiences the hard away.

Another warning: Oh for goodness sake, DO NOT TOUCH YOUR JUNK AFTER YOU HAVE APPLIED TIGER BALM ON OTHER AREAS OF YOUR BODY. Washing your hands before you touch your junk is not going to help because the ointment is so powerful, it will still sting. Eh, I learned that from ahem some guy.

Disclaimer: As magical as it may be, Tiger Balm will not, however, cure Man Cold. “For God’s sake, woman, he’s a man, he’s got a man cold!”


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Tiger Balm will not stop a runny nose either, unfortunately. For that, I hereby introduce you to:

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A Japanese “Chindōgu” (meaning Unusual, Precious Tool)

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And with this awesome hat, I hereby introduce you to “How to Rock Sexy in Your Pajamas and Bunny Slippers with a Kleenex in Your Pocket (that May or May Not Be Used)”:

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Yeah! You like that? Mmm. It’s got pockets. Are you into that? Uh. What’s this? A used Kleenex!

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And thank goodness for this song by The Cure (Get it? “The Cure”?) that I can tie this gaping post neatly into a bundle and put an end to it.

TGIF! You know why? Because Friday I’m in Love!

(Get it? “Friday I’m in Love”? Oh, never mind…)

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httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa2nLEhUcZ0

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p.s. You know who has taken this “tie a blog post nicely and cleverly with a song” to an art form? Every single post? A Little Bit Rock n Roll, that’s who.

The Little Light that Could

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I have not been able to focus and write anything since December 30 because on our flight back home, my husband asked me WHEN and WHY I became so politically aware and belligerent, bordering on snobbish. I was caught off guard and tongue-tied. Lots of soul searching on my part since then and panicking.

I became pretty despondent about our future because if I cannot talk about politics and religion even with my spouse…

I EVEN pondered the possibility of me learning to like watching sports and us becoming a family that watches football on the weekend, for about 5 seconds. *shudder*

Once again, this goes to prove why and how blogging is only good for my sanity and marriage.

UNTIL on the morning of January 1st, as I was brushing my teeth, husband sauntered in with a big smile on his face while holding the mini book light I got in my Christmas stocking.

“I saw this lying around on your night stand and I was horrified at first. ‘I can’t believe she just left this thing lying around where the kids can see!'” He chuckled.

I burst out laughing as the mental image of a side-by-side comparison popped up like a light bulb.

“You should take a picture of THIS and blog about it.”

So I did.

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Thou doth protest too much...

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NOT a book light

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We-Vibe. A sexy, fun couple’s toy from the generous Sandy, aka Ms. June/Lady Godiva,  over at Toy With Me.  And yes, you’ll probably need to read the review to figure out how this thing is supposed to be positioned… Harrumph.

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"Dont cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?"

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Remember Showgirls? Nomi says you’ve got to put this flag up and see who salutes

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Boing! <– warning: NSFW

Whoa, mama!

Now I’ve got your attention. This proves that if put in the right context with the right mood implied, ANYTHING you say can be interpreted with a naughty bend. But first, a warning.

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That being said, like a good strip tease, I am going to start with something wholesome… See? Pink roses and fancy china and proper tea time.

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Big Little Wolf over at Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy passed this award to me… this September… Ugh… I did mention before that I am in a P.A. (Procrastinator Anonymous) program right? Thank you for the award. I really appreciate it!

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Next up is an intriguing award from Wendy at Herding Cats in Hammond River. It is British with a distinct British word and should be savored properly in Queen’s English. Since I do have a British-accent-fetish, I enjoy looking in the mirror and saying, “You are bloody brilliant!” and also “Blimey! It is almost 4 months since you’ve received this award. You are a rotten wanker indeed!” Thank you, Wendy!

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Yeah yeah yeah. You are thinking, “Well, one BLOODY does not NC-17 make. It won’t even get you bleeped!” Be patient my lad. Now here come the awards by Rabbit aka Micael over at The [Long] Journey [to the Middle].
Rabbit said to take one or all. I couldn’t choose so I took all three. I am NOT being greedy just indecisive…

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This one is rated PG…

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This is all a big tease, isn’t it? Not so… Quick! Earmuffs!

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This award is NOT censored on my blog and it is still fucking awesome!

But wait, there is MORE!

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Are you ready for this? I simply HAD to share this award with you because I do like me some good licking and besides, Nomi says so…

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So step right up! All of you. Please. Because a 10-inch dick is simply too fucking awesome to not be passed around!

AND I would like to give this award back to Micael because he totally deserves it — I hope I just succeeded in finding a loophole for a blogger to accept and display an award that they created…

I know what you are thinking. You are going to be coy. You are going to be humble. I understand. I’d behave the same way if suddenly  a 10-inch-dick award were to be thrust in front of my face.

How about this: How about if we do this for charity? For anybody that brings Nomi home to their blog, a dollar will go to The Global Fund, and another dollar will go to The Trevor Project.*

Do it for Nomi. Do it for the children. And do it, for goodness sake, for the Great 10-inch Dick!

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* Disclaimer 1: I am NO saint. This is in our annual household budget anyway. I know it is uncouth to talk about one’s own charity giving; on the other hand, I do not want to be disingenuous and pretend that I am doing anything extra.

* Disclaimer of the Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that more than the usual number of people come by my blog (Unlikely because Thanksgiving is over and people have stopped searching for turkey and landing here), there IS a certain cap to the Bring Nomi Home campaign. I hope you understand.

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Linlah @ Corn-Bean brought Nomi home and had a great time with her on the stripper pole. I know you want to do it too!

Micael @ The (Long) Journey (to the Middle), Nomi’s creator, was reunited with Nomi on his side bar (Ok. This sounds disturbing for some reason… But it is really all legit…)

Holly aka Midwestern Mamah @ ARE YOU SERIOUS? (yes, it has got to be all CAPS. That’s how I hear it every time I visit her blog…) has put up Nomi right in her living room. Nothing speaks of holiday cheer than a show girl licking the stripper pole.

Wicked Shawn @ Wicked Girls Think It, Do You? (yes, I do I do!) had some technical difficulty at her house so they ended up doing it on the beach. (By doing it, I meant the PARTY. What?)

“Duff Diddy” @ Dufmanno’s Blog (yeah, I have no idea what Dufmmano means either. Go ask her yourself!) needs a 10-inch dick to complete her fancy tea party and we sent Nomi over to deliver the award. I haven’t heard back from Nomi yet. I guess the tea went long. *wink wink*

The Peach @ Being Peachy is being a peach by setting up Nomi in a gorgeous trailer complete with jacuzzi, heart-shaped bed that vibrates with an overhead mirror. And her own personal bejeweled stripper pole! What’s more: Peach produced TWO 5-inch dicks so they could both have a good time. Nicely done, m’lady. That’s what friends are for…

NaBloPoMo Final Stretch. More white socks please!

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Dear Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, are you sure I really need to add FOUR tablespoons of butter? Isn’t that like, a lot?

Dear vegetarians, I hate to tell you, but Tofurkey does not look nor taste like turkey. Or anything that is benign. If you are going to be a vegetarian, just suck it up and find peace within yourself. What is the point with fake meat anyway? It is like, oh, I can’t kill real people so I will just dismember Barbie dolls. CREEPY.

Dear people who love to make things from scratch, Stove Top stuffings taste better than any home-made stuffings I’ve ever had the good fortune of tasting. If you would like to convince me otherwise, feel free to send me yours.

Dear Parents-in-Law, “You betcha!” ceased to be funny the second time you said it. And I hope watching Sarah Palin’s Alaska and finding her “adorable” and her show “interesting” is not a sign that you consider her a legitimate candidate for anything more serious than a cable show host. Some people find Snooki on Jersey Shore “adorable” and the entire Housewives franchise “interesting”. Just sayin.

Dear Christian Conservatives and Tea Partiers, Ayn Rand (whoever she was) was an avowed atheist and she supported abortion rights. Just thought you should know.

Dear Uber Cool World Record Penny Pyramid, I am very sorry that I read the subject line as “Got Penises? Largest Penis Design Pyramid” and therefore I was not able to fully appreciate your awesomeness when I excitedly clicked on the link.

Dear PayPal, I am very sorry that I replaced the “P” in the last word in your new tagline “The world’s most-loved way to pay and get paid” with an “L” when I first saw it, and therefore for a second thought you finally found a way to optimize your revenue perhaps even with a joint venture with Craig’s List.

Dear semi-cute Starbucks Barista, you really broke my heart when you held my eyes for a long moment and then called me ma’am.

Dear SUV Driver, if you cannot park within the lines, you really should not be allowed to buy a car that big.

Dear Cadillac Escalade owner, please see above. In addition, please stop tailgating me. I am not going to budge because I am a bitch like that. You are not going to intimidate me with your mass. If you were driving a real truck with a gun rack and not some manifestation of conspicuous consumption, I may be scared. Costco will be there waiting for you. There is no hurry. And if you are late for your hair stylist appointment, I am pretty sure they will wait for you since you tip so well on top of the $200 you spend there every time.

Dear Sports Car Owner, you have a very nice car, drive it. It pangs me when you drag your ass below the speed limit: it’s like not having sex when you are sleeping with Megan Fox. (I use her as an example because I assume asshats like you go gaga over empty shells like her. You are welcome.)

Dear Person Whose License Plate says SORDID, I am going to assume that you have a secret identity that is more exciting than your train-taking commuting suit-cladding backpack-wearing self.

Dear Fellow Blackberry Widows, is it just me or do you find typing on Blackberry in the middle of the night in total darkness as annoying as banging on a typewriter while shining a bright light in your eyes?

Dear iPhone lovers, be honest: do you now type less carefully because in case when you make a mistake, it is actually cool to show people what hilarious suggestions Auto Correct come up with? Win-Win, right?

Dear Straight Men, what is it about Jennifer Love Hewitt that makes her so hot to you lot? I am gonna bet that every woman groans when you mention her as one of the hot actresses. We simply can’t see it. Jessica Alba. Yeah, I concur. Megan Fox. I can see why. But Jennifer Love Hewitt? Not so much.

Dear Husband, it is very uncool to quote with glee “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” when I ask you to put lotion on my back. Same goes to saying “Redrum. Redrum.” in a creepy voice after our bedroom was painted, yes, red.

Dear Husband, I am not so sure about the lone item on your wish list: the 10 Disc set of “Romancing the 70s”. I can understand the 80s, and possibly the 90s. But Romancing the 70s? Are you gay? Because if you are, that would explain a lot. On the other hand, if you are, why do I get the one gay guy who is not stylish and does not appreciate shoes? You also do not make a good confidant. Just my luck. Ugh.

Dear Santa, I would like all my files to be transferred from my old computer to the new computer, neatly organized, like magic.

Dear Internet, I am sorry for subjecting you to more White Socks in my Crotch and Tissues inside my Bras to get myself over the finish line for NaBloMoFo. Be well. Stay well.

Remember this.

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Screenshot from my new favorite film: Mary and Max, written, designed & directed by Adam Elliot

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“Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.”   — Lucille Ball

“If you don’t love yourself, you cannot love others. You will not be able to love others. If you have no compassion for yourself then you are not able of developing compassion for others.” — Dalai Lama

“NaBloPoMo forces me to change my perspectives on quoting famous people and thus taking an easy way out.” — Lin

Thank goodness Halloween is here because I look better in drag

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Disclaimer: Objects in the mirror are both closer and farther than they appear.

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Preamble: I have no idea what the point of this post is or whether there is any. Except to demonstrate the power of Picnik, the danger of believing in profile pictures in social media (Think Catfish), and the fact I look much better in black and white which is why I secretly long for living in Pleasantville before those stupid kids ruined it for everybody, and I will gladly trade places with Tom Baxter in The Purple Rose of Cairo, incidentally a movie I also watched multiple times hoping Tom would turn and address me directly, “Hey you!”

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For our graduate production, my undergraduate class staged M. Butterfly by David Henry Hwang. The play calls for an Asian man to live in drag, pretending to be a woman and fooling the self-delusional French diplomat (based on a real scandal!) None of our male classmates stepped up to the plate, and therefore we had a woman playing a man playing a woman.

Although I suspect that how we did it due to necessity was not optimal for the theatrical production, I later learned that there is a term for this: Faux Queen, aka Biologically-challenged drag queen, Female female impersonator, or Female impersonator impersonator.

When I was young, I fantasized about dressing up as a man because being a man gives you a lot more freedom (Think Mulan). I wanted to be a swordswoman in one of the Wu Xia novels or movies (Think Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon), dressed up as a young warrior scholar so I could roam the world and right the wrongs.

To this day I look forward to rainy days before or after it actually rains. It gives me an excuse to walk around with an umbrella.

I was fascinated by Victor Victoria and (still) believe that Julie Andrews looked much better as Victor.

For the majority of my high school career, all girls school, hello! I did behave and dress more towards the male end of the spectrum: closely cropped hair, asexual clothing, and let’s not forget, aviator sunglasses. I was known to make young girls blush when they mistook me for a dashing young man. Well, I was relatively tall and lanky and handsome. In a manga-character-like, pre-sexual, innocent kind of way. For a bunch of high school girls with similar lack of exposure and access to the other sex.

When I said I peaked at the age of 18, until then I had been living an arguably cloistered life, I was not kidding. Being naturally feminine has never been my strong suit. And of course, who’s to say what defines femininity any more, and the distablizing ambiguity suits me fine.

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CODA: You know, I’ve struggled with this post since Monday. Normally if I am having such trouble with the direction I have been going in a post, I’d scratch it. Just as I was ready to give up and start anew some other time, I realized that Monday was the day when I bought my plane tickets home. This rambling on gender roles and prescribed femininity came from my anxiety of going home home next week. As much as I feel unease sometimes in this country, I feel/fear that I stand out like a sore thumb (and to some extent literally since I am tall by the local standard) over there. Oh well. I will be a woman playing a woman. Thespians, we are good at it, eh?