Tag Archives: imma crazy like that

Announcing: Birthday Month Extravaganza!

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I never ever got to celebrate my birthday in style. In fact, I have the urge to dig a hole and bury my head in it when my birthday is approaching, not because I dread getting one year older but that I worry about being disappointed.

I am disappointed every year. That is why I am all nonchalant about the whole birthday thing.

I turned 40 last July. Yup. Missed the opportunity to make a big to-do out of mah birthday. But this year? This year is going to be different. This year I have a blog. And it is my blog, I’ll have an extravaganza if I want to.

So are you ready, Loren Sorenson?  You and I are going to party every day in July. Every Single Fucking Day. Heehaw!

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July 1st.

There is a lot to celebrate on July 1st.

Happy Birthday, Scary Mommy!

Happy Birthday, Estee Lauder, Sydney Pollack (RIP my good sir!), Dan Aykroyd, Liv Tyler, and one Pamela Anderson.

Happy happy day to my company and everybody who has paid their dues slaving away there!

Happy Some-Significant-Day to one of my favorite peoples in the world. Happy Canada Day!

(warning: I am not responsible if you cannot get the catchy tune out of your head)

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What is an extravaganza if we do not start it off with a bang?! What better way to start off any celebration than a Hometown Fest Carnival**? Complete with an Elvis Impersonator named Bob Elvis West?

Every Fourth of July weekend, I am forced to admit that No, we do not live in Chicago. We live in the Midwest, y’all. We live in a down-to-earth Midwestern town where all the blonde people with cigarettes hanging out the corners of their mouths seem to congregate at the carnival.

July truly is my lucky month because tonight, all the carnival people were very nice to me. I’d like to think it’s because I said thank you and please.

I went on some of the not-so-scary rides with the boys, and boy, the scariest of them all was the rotating bears in the ride called Bear Affair. (I can’t even make this shit up!) Mr. Monk had a great time making the bear we were riding in rotate at the speed of light by maniacally turning the table in the center. I became so dizzy that I had to close my eyes, leaning against Mr. Bear’s steely hollow body. It felt like being drunk but I didn’t have a single drop of alcohol tonight. I was high without any assistance. Yes, I have the ability to self-medicate. That’s one of my Secret Super Powers, peeps.

I put my hands up when we were on one of the rides that does nothing but go around and around really fast, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. I screamed like a MoFo. It felt good. It felt really good. Later when Mr. Monk asked to get on the same ride again, I did not protest too much. Half way through the ride, some of the children were yelling loudly at the carnival worker, “Music please!” since earlier the ride was quite popular exactly because it was blasting all the popular teenybopper songs that every other child seemed to be lip-syncing to. I joined in loudly, “Music please! We want some Justin Beaver!” The kids sitting in front of me turned around with astonished looks and immediately, smiles. Yeah, right at that moment, we connected: me and two 10-year-olds. As we sped past by the control booth, I yelled louder, “FREE BIRD!”, and for safe measure, gave him the Hang Loose hand sign.

I did that every time I flew by the control booth. I did that again as he let me out of the exit.

My kids did not seem to notice my high spirits and odd behaviors because they themselves were psyched by the carnival. They were not embarrassed by me which in itself was a blessing.

It was a cool and cloudless night. A perfect evening. And we got a perfect ending for it to boot: As we made our way back to the car, we noticed the canopy of stars.

“Look! That’s the Big Dipper!” My 12-year-old shouted. Sure ’nuff the seven stars were right above us, clear as day, in the formation of a, eh, big dipper. It is July after all when the night sky is dominated by the Big Dipper.

What we saw tonight, exactly like this

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Is my birthday month awesome or what? Prepare to see unicorns, y’all!

** I’ve got pictures. This entire month is going to be picture-rich because I have decided to give myself a hobby… Damn it. Everybody needs a hobby and I am tired of writing down “reading, listening to music and going to the movies”. LAME-O! I will post the pictures tomorrow, which is today, which is supposed to be July 1st but of course it is taking a friggin’ long time to resize the pictures and upload them, and it is 3:30 am now on July 2nd but of course I need to officially start mah Birthday Month on July 1st… So you’ll just have to wait for tomorrow, no, today, and this post is supposed to be for yesterday…

Dear @Wired. Meet Georgia O’Keeffe.

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In addition to Threadless Tees, I also try to seem young and hip and on top of things by subscribing to Wired Magazine. Although I have been caught in this conundrum of inadvertently outing myself as an old fart by actually subscribing to the print edition. Seriously, who subscribes to print editions of magazines any more? And since I am in the confessional mode, I may as well tell you that I still buy music CDs. Yup. I am single-handedly supporting the dinosaurs.

That being said, until the day I can sit in the open (in my own house, mind you) reading without being bothered, I will always prefer papers to hard metal/plastic. They are just a lot easier to read in a locked bathroom, with the fan on to drone out the incessant, “Mom. Mom. Mommy. Mommy. Mom. Mama.”

As always, I was happy to receive my latest Wired. I skipped the important article on Sergey Brin’s search for a cure for Parkinson’s Disease and tore immediately into the shopping feature (Shut up!). I saw this and my inner 16-year-old boy made me choke on my cocktail:

ETA: Of course the Product of the Month is a super duper $2,000 sub-woofer for your home theatre, Beolab 11 by the revered Bang & Olufsen.

You said it. Not me.

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Ok. Not to be sexist or anything, I am going to guess that the department that worked on testing, rating and writing about the 39 summer gears is mostly male. So nobody snickered or doing a Beavis & Butthead’s “Hehehe.” Is it just me? Really? I am very impressed.

Let me break it down for you…

You know Georgia O'Keeffe?

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Georgia O'keeffe. The artist famous for you know who-who...

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Come on! I cannot be the only one...

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In order to drive my point home, I have taken the liberty to dress the “Tulip” up…

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Ta da!

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Oh please please please don’t let me be the only one…

CODA on 7/7: I am happy to report that after almost 1 month, I am finally “vindicated”… This picture is now on Wired.com and the comments proved that well, it does not take any imagination to see this fancy sub-woofer as a, eh, modern piece of art…

I Comment Therefore I Am – Trolling

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When I was in college, Deconstruction and Postmodernism were in vogue, later when I was in graduate school, Cultural Relativism was all the rage, and I thrived in the academic environment that prized my way of examining and understanding life and people from all perspectives.

In real life, this makes me a person with no strong conviction, I suspect. My penchant of looking at people and life in general from both/all sides made me a great research scholar or maybe even a good instructor but would not have done any good if I wanted to change the world. For starters, I am agnostic because I have not the guts to decide on one thing or the other. (At least that is MY reason for claiming I am agnostic). I often corner myself onto a slippery slope by empathizing to a fault.

These past few days I believe I came to some certain degree of appreciation for things that I have sorely despised:

Teabagging Parties and Internet Trolling.

Tea Party Protest Sign. Well, sort of. The gist of it.

I went to a live taping for Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me and it was a blissful relief to be surrounded by people who shared my worldview, and I assume, my socio-economical and educational backgrounds. No apology was needed (except I did apologize profusely when I asked to take pictures of Peter Sagal and Carl Kasell. What can I say? They just seem too sublime to be asked to partake in such vulgar activities such as FANGIRL WORSHIP…) No explanation was demanded. I agreed wholeheartedly with everything that was said.

I can see why the teabaggers are drawn to these crazy tea parties! I thought. (Seriously. THIS can be very annoying sometimes…)

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On the same day I went to the Wait Wait taping, I also discovered the titillating excitement of being an Internet Troll.

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Ain't that the truth?!

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I became obsessed with this post “How to Be a Good Wife” on Scary Mommy as soon as I saw the words: “Completing Him” challenge: Be the woman your man needs.

Long story short: Jill, Scary Mommy, found a post on a blog (which turns out to be a Christian, sort of “Come to Jesus” “Let’s know HIM and serve HIM well” kind of blog) that encouraged the readers to participate in an 8-week challenge that will help the women learn/make an effort to love their husbands. Some choice examples:

Make a list of 5 things you currently do and ask him to prioritize them for you of what is important to him. For example – a clean home, home cooked dinner, coupon clipping, service at church, having friends over for dinner, watching/doing sports with him, etc.

No complaining, criticizing, rolling your eyes, nagging, or giving him any friction this week. Enjoy a week of peace in your home!

Support his vision. Discuss his vision for your family. Where does he see your family in 1 year, 5 years, and 10 years. Share with us how you let your husband lead.

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The most telling part about what this blog that Jill stumbled upon is all about? On that blog, another blog is featured called Raising Homemakers*. “Dedicated to inspiring, teaching and blessing mothers who have an interest in raising their daughter in godliness and preparing them in the arts of homemaking to the glory of God.” I kid you not.

* Sorry peeps. I am not linking to any of these conservative websites for many reasons. For one, trackback is a bitch. And really, why ruin your day or even week by checking it out, getting nauseous just thinking about it?

Anyway, Jill used these “challenge tasks” to come up with sarcastic/ironic remarks about how she planned to serve her husband and become a good wife for him.  Of course, the way her audience is (me being one of them), comments from Jill’s regular readers started pouring in.

Comments really were the best part there. Most of them were hilariously sardonic, and we were having a lot of fun, “building camaraderie” as I saw it, based on the same conviction which could be summed up by this comment left by Jen:

I let me husband have sex with me and he likes it. That is submission enough.

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I was, however, disturbed and upset at first.

Do these women have girls? Why do they even bother encouraging their girls to study or do anything else if they expect grown women to do nothing else but allow their husbands to ‘lead’ them? In that case, wouldn’t the men prefer the ignorant kind? No talking up nor speaking up? Wouldn’t that just make this whole scheme a lot easier to maintain? Look at what’s going on in the fundamentalist Muslim societies. If girls are not allowed to go to school, yes, men there can continue to lead as long as they’d like.

I am getting riled up without even watching the video. I am sorry. I tried to be sarcastic and funny and yet I failed miserably.

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Then Nic @ My Bottle’s Up alerted me to the aforementioned “I cannot bring myself to say it again” website…

OMFG! Should I click on it? My hand is shaking. Actually my whole body is shaking. Maybe it’s created by The Onion?! Please? Just lie to me…

Actually, I take it back. I visited the site briefly. And as a mother of two boys, I am going to be selfish and highly endorse such a scheme of producing wonderful homemakers who will take care of my boys much better than I have been and ever will. I never have to worry about my sons getting beaten up like Elin beat up Tiger Woods. And I can really learn to be proud of my boys when they show their women what their places are in the world. I wonder whether they also teach about ‘submission to parents-in-law since you know they gave birth to the man who is leading you so they are like on an even higher level’ because the last thing I need after raising these brats are daughters-in-law that talk back and don’t appreciate my gorgeous wonderful sons. Awesome!

And… I was back! To my sarcastic self again, baby!

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Then “the other camp” found out the fun we were having over on Scary Mommy, very quickly, chaos and hilarity ensued. And that, my friend, was when I became so obsessed with trolling for things I disagreed with and made myself a nuisance in general. To this comment:

Serving Him and my husband is what I was put on this earth to do. I know where I’m going when my time on earth is complete. Can any of you say the same?

(The same woman also made the claim that her husband has never strayed because she’s never given him an excuse to… Oh yeah. It was very hard for me to sit on my hands and say NOTHING to that. I am very proud of my restraint)

I replied:

You are right. I cannot say the same thing because I believe in reincarnation and I have no idea yet what I will be coming back as. If I continue to do good the way I have, I sure hope I get to come back as a husband with a submissive wife who gives me no excuse to stray (wink wink). I seriously am looking forward to living the high life. So excited!!!

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I also spotted a familiar face: The lovely Vapid Blonde was there at the party!

I am running right out and getting a pair of stripper shoes in which I will feed my husband bacon while he watches the Bruins win every cup and the Red Sox win every world series all day everyday….because THAT might be his perfect day with his perfect wife.

So I backed my girl up by praising her actions:

Right. Vapid. Work it, girl! Make sure you don’t give your husband an excuse to stray otherwise if he cheats on you, you will only have yourself to blame.

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I was high. It was like drug. I kept on going back for more, checking for new development, cough cough, new opportunities for my comedic genius. Now, I am still not sure how the Gulf Oil Spill became involved in this heated debate, but the same genius asked,

Perhaps the oil spill exists for a reason. A punishment for greed? Ever thought about that?

It’s almost like she was a shill I put in the audience, she just handed it to me!

It’s the pelicans’ fault. Ever see how they gobble up all the fish in one big mouthful? Yup. Not just greed, gluttony too.

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Eventually it dawned on me: This is silly. I wish conservatives and liberals would just stay out of each other’s blogs when politics, religions and gender roles are discussed. I am sorry. There is no way I am going to see things from the other side when these matters are involved. Try and explain to me why a woman needs to wear a chador and I will show you my bound feet. Cultural relativism my ass. Here was my final missive:

Blogs are not meant to be neutral or objective. Facebook pages are not meant to be neutral or objective. We have to agree to disagree sometimes. Jill did NOT leave a comment over on that website (at least the last time I checked). The fact is somebody went over to the other post and alerted people there that that post is being talked about here. (Wow, that sounded like I was describing high school, didn’t it?) The fact is you decided to come over and take a look and be offended.

It is really tempting for me personally to leave comments all over the Internet on conservative websites mocking them, criticizing them, but I refrain myself every time, because it would be like if I insist on watching Glenn Beck to get myself all riled up spitting blood. Better just walk away. I have read one blog post referring to mine in a negative light with insulting comments (yeah, I am not bragging ok? “Just ONE?” I know I am but a krill in this big pond and oh yeah Trackback is a bitch), I wanted to say something, to defend myself, to prove them wrong, but I walked away.

You can’t argue someone into changing their minds, esp. in the matters of faith/religion, and esp. when all this is based on ‘believing in Jesus/God’ as that very nice lady said in her latest post welcoming new readers. Did you really think you would be able to change minds, to convert people into ‘True Christianity’ that you subscribe to, by coming over here and yelling at people?

p.s. Actually I kind of wish it could work this way: imagine the lives that could have been saved from the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisition. Let’s just try to talk the other side into changing their minds!

p.s.s. You were so right when you said, ‘Heaven forbid that we might be right.’ That is why I am agnostic. I’ve got it all covered. Booyah!

p.m.s. Jill I am so sorry for coming back over & over again. I just discovered that being a troll is fun, no wonder people do it all the time!

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Unknown Mami inspired me to turn my comments into a post because comments sometimes really are the best part! Besides, I am lazy. So why not recycle words that you have written?!

Unknown Mami

Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me. For real.

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Oh man. I should have written this post Thursday night or Friday early morning when I was still riding the high from being at a live taping of my favorite radio program, Wait Wait Don’t Tell me. Instead I am suffering from the backend of the pendulum swing, crashing hard, filled with doubt and self-loathing.

This is a confession from a self-proclaimed dweeb, dork, geek-lover, fangirl, star-struck middle-aged woman who behaved age-inappropriately on Thursday night.

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1. Stuff that I said about how I never develop crush on celebrities? Total baloney, it turned out. I had the biggest grin on my face and was giggling like an idiot the whole time I was getting autographs from Peter Sagal, Carl Kasell, Charlie Pierce, and Paula Poundstone. (Roxanne Roberts left by the time we finished our “shopping spree” at the Wait Wait “Shameless Commerce Department” – a homage to another popular NPR program, Car Talk).

I am going to chalk it up to these brilliant people being so humble and so gracious that I could not but be awestruck by their total awesomeness.

I was also giddy from being swept up by the “camaraderie” in the auditorium. It really does feel incredible to be surrounded by like-minded people. For a second, I thought I could understand why the teabaggers go to tea parties.

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2. I was so star-struck. I didn’t even care that I failed to bring a “real” camera with me. Just being there was good enough for me.

What a fucking idiot was I? Who went to an event of a lifetime and did not even think of bringing their camera?

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3. Yes, my friend and I bought a lot of souvenirs. Well, Linda had to buy something for everybody she knows: lucky woman. She is surrounded by people who actually would kill her if she went to the Wait Wait taping without bringing home something for them.

Me? Not so lucky. Probably would have been more like a taunt if I gave my co-worker Idiot America by Charlie Pierce.

“Awesome! This is like Disneyland for Liberals!” I exclaimed with 100% sincerity.

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4. I stumbled forward when it was my turn to talk to Peter Sagal.

“Hi. I brought my own sharpie! This is like Disneyland for the Liberals!!! Ha ha ha.”

Peter. Silence. He might have raised his eyebrow.

“Who is this book for?”

“ME!” I might have squeed. Definitely giggled. A lot.

Peter. Silence. He might have raised his eyebrow.

“May I take a picture of you?” I added, out of breath, “I’ll just Photoshop myself in later.”

Bad habit of mine: pathological need to be funny when I am nervous.

Peter. Silence. He did give my phone a great smile.

Peter Sagal. THAT is a smile, right?

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5. Although Peter Sagal was my fangirl fanmatron crush, it was beyond cool to see Carl Kasell in person.

It was surreal to WATCH Carl introducing Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me…

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6. Carl, as I had imagined, was very gentlemanly and very gracious. While I was getting an autograph from Carl, Charlie Pierce said in his booming voice, “Somebody here must have done some shopping!” I looked up just as he noticed his book in my arm.

“Good. Let me come over and sign that book for you!”

Yipeee! In my mind, I jumped up and down while clapping my hands.

“I am sure Carl and I can multitask!” Charlie said, as he took the book from me.

“Would you mind if I take a picture of both of ya together? I’ll just Photoshop myself in later…”

Serisouly, dude. Enough with the stupid joke already…

“Sure. I don’t think Carl and I have ever had our pictures taken together before!”

“Cool! I hope this does not mean [insert failed attempt at coming up with some apocalyptic phenomenon to show how witty I was in front of friggin’ Carl Kesell and Charlie Pierce. Smooth. Very smooth].”

Carl & Charlie. Together. Squee!

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7. I lurv Charlie Pierce. Even more so after I read the introduction to his book, Idiot America: How Stupidity Became a Virtue in the Land of the Free.

Actually he had me at the title of his book. But oh wow, the blurb for this book made me cry out YES YES YES!

The Culture Wars Are Over and the Idiots Have Won.

A veteran journalist’s acidically funny, righteously angry lament about the glorification of ignorance in the United States.

With Idiot America, Pierce’s thunderous denunciation is also a secret call to action, as he hopes that somehow, being intelligent will stop being a stigma, and that pinheads will once again be pitied, not celebrated.

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Charlie walked over to the other end of the auditorium when he learned that he hasn’t signed Linda’s copy. With Linda there, I finally had the courage to ask to have my picture taken with my crush.

“Do you want me to send you the picture?”

“Sure!”

“Give me your address so I can send it to you! Ha ha.”

Oh, I am having a heart attack remembering this while I type. Ugh.

Charlie had his arms on both of us. Squee!

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8. Although the taping is live, the show when aired will have already been edited. It’s very interesting to watch them doing the retakes.

This clip shows Carl doing a retake of “GGGGOOOOAAAALLLLL” in honor of World Cup.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zaBx9R2Yk8

It is unfortunate that I failed to successfully record and save the first “GGGOOOOAAAAALLLL” Carl did. He must have gone on for longer than a minute  (It felt like forever) and the audience was screaming and whooping and pumping our fists (Ok, maybe I was the only one that did the fist pumping since the audience was more refined than say at a rock concert…) His face turned red towards the end: I was so worried that he was going to pass out!

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9. Things I would not have learned about Peter Sagal if I were not there on Thursday:

  • He was a snake charmer in Michael Jackson’s video Remember the Time. Unfortunately it was left out of the final cut.
  • Peter DID shake hands with MJ. And, according to Peter, “shared a moment.”
  • He was an extra in Drew Barrymore’s movie Doppelganger in 1993.

Here is the video clip (taken with my Blackberry so apology for poor quality) of Peter disclosing his stellar resume in the entertainment industry.

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10. Paula Poundstone was the funniest. And the most gracious. For starters, Paula said matter-of-factly, “Listen to three kids whine” when asked what she will be doing this summer.

I am having such a girl crush on her as I relive my “time with her.”

We had to wait to meet Paula Poundstone because she actually talked with every single person that asked for her autograph. When it was my turn, the excitement of the night has made me completely lose my mind. I could not stop laughing.

She wrote,

Lin, May things always strike you funny. Love.

For 24 hours I have been replaying our exchange frame by frame, tormenting myself, wondering whether she thought I LAUGHED too much. Now I saw the word, “LOVE”. I am just going to take it literally. Paul loves me. Period. Life can go on again.

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11. Linda wanted the book to be for her mother-in-law, so Paula wrote,

Linda kept on yelling out things about you during the show.

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12. Linda told Paula her name is “Lin-da”, so I said, “And I went without the Duh,” which took Paula by surprise. She paused, thought about it, and chuckled.

PAULA POUNDSTONE LAUGHED AT MY STUPID JOKE!

BOO-YAH!

Did I tell you I have developed a crush on Paula?

Warning: Do not read this if you are my husband

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The Kitchen Witch tagged me for an interesting exercise…

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No tan lines?!

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Clarification: A writing/blogging exercise. Not the kind of exercise being vigorously practiced by Barbie and Ken as shown in the photo.

“If tagged, you need to list (and then explain your reasoning) 5 characters you’d like to do the horizontal whiplash with,” according to the bewitchin’ lady lording over the Kingdom of Cookery.

As an over-thinker and an anti-over-sharer when it comes to businesses in my own bedroom, I have been ruminating and debating on my choices.

Digression: Alas, this sort of explains why no fireworks are coming out of my bedroom, or my crotch for that matter. (Hey, I figure I need to throw you some TMIs so you won’t cry foul…)

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I am embarrassed to say, yet obviously not embarrassed enough to lie about it, the first character that came to my mind was…

Father Ralph de Bricassart in The Thorn Birds. Do you remember this popular mini-series in the 1980s? Richard Chamberlain played the tortured priest? Man oh man, for a young teenage girl in Taiwan, that show had some of the most erotic, passionate scenes I was able to witness.

Digression: Ok, my mother did bring me to The Blue Lagoon with Brooke Shields by mistake. Fortunately for my mother, I was too dumb young to understand any of it. The realization of what goes on in that movie came to me out of the blue one day while I was sitting in the classroom in COLLEGE. I went, “Ohhhhhhh………. I got it!”

Forbidden love between a Catholic priest and an impressionable young girl whom he had known since she was four? COME ON! How hot is THAT?

This was of course before the world learned of the prevalanec of child abuse conducted by the Catholic clergy.  Looking back now.  YIKES. I think I really did throw up in my mouth when I watched again, for the purpose of researching for this post (Seriously, the sacrifice I make for you guys…), the long awaited consummation between Meggie (Rachel Ward) and her relationship with Father Ralph.

The following scene, in 1983, was called “the most erotic love scene ever to ignite the home screen.”

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qc0bF2HMP_E

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Mr. Rochester in the BBC Mini Series, Jane Eyre, played by Timothy Dalton. Another one of my earliest fantasies. This was before Dalton had the misfortune of being James Bond for two measly Bond films and immediately became UNCOOL because almost everybody hated him as Bond.

Mr Rochester

This mini-series was also  aired in 1983. I am now convinced that 1983 was a watershed year for me. The year of my sexual awakening. Now that explains the sudden urge to pee when I watched these mini-series. “Ohhhhhhh………. I got it!”

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So… to begin answering the question for realz… I have to start with Fitzwilliam Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. I don’t know why: I seem to have a thing in my fantasy for the aloof yet secretly passionate and protective type.

And I was VERY happy with BBC’s adaptation in 1995 with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy

A dripping wet Mr. Darcy. This is a bit too much IMO.

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To further prove that I have a thing for aloof yet secretly passionate and protective type, the one character that gets my panties really really wet is the vampire Bill Compton from The Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris. Oh my lord. I have never ever read romance novels except these books. And oh my lord, let me exclaim again, they are bordering on porn, or at least my over-imaginative mind received similar amount and severity of stimulation from reading these pages.

And it’s not just Bill the Vampire. All of Sookie Stackhouse’s lovers are hump-worthy on the pages: Eric Northman, a vampire that is depicted like a Nordic god, a viking in his past life, with a gorgeous body built like rock and an insatiable appetite for “fun”. Her third conquest, Quinn, is a friggin’ “SPOILER POTENTIAL so I cannot say what kind of animal he is here”! It suffices to say that whichever animal Quinn is, the sex scene as penned by Harris definitely lives up to the said animal’s reputation. Grrrrrrrr….

I read the first six books in the series non-stop last year when we were on the beach for a week. I was addicted. Obsessed. Like a sex fiend. Only came up for air when reality called.

There I was, sitting on the beach in bright daylight, between my mother-in-law and my father-in-law, surround by screaming happy children, reading these words: (And mind you, I am leaving out the MORE explicit parts in this paragraph…)

As I squirmed uncomfortably in my beach chair, I wondered why there was not a sticker on these books (or on any of the romance novels…) and whether anybody could tell that I was being aroused…

“His fingers and his mouth were busy learning my topography, and he pressed heavily against my thigh. I was so on fire for him I was surprised that flames didn’t flicker out of my finger tips. I curled my fingers around him and stroked… I reached between us to put him at just the right spot… I tried to yank him back, but he began kissing his way down my body… His mouth was talented… he turned his face to my inner thigh, muzzling it, his fingers moving steadily now, faster and faster…”

Oooo child. I need to go take a break. Be right back.

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I’m bbbbaaacccckkkkkk! Thanks for waiting. That wasn’t long, was it? So where was I?…

Of course, HBO later, much to the dismay of my panties, adapted these books into the cultish True Blood. Oh yeah, baby. Bill you can bite me any day. Or night for that matter.

Bill Compton: the Un-Vampire from True Blood

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As I am coming… to the end of this post, I want to be really really really honest with y’all. Like 120% honest: I fantasized about having sex with one of the aliens from the movie Cocoon. I don’t even care that the object of my lust shown in the following clip is female so I may be entering the realm of homoeroticism inadvertently. I am pretty sure these aliens can assume any shape they want to be. Maybe I’ll ask that the alien morphs into Mr. Darcy.

Yes. I am lazy. Didn’t I tell you that? I love how in this fantasy of mine a la Cocoon I do not need to do anything. Not even lift a finger. Nada. Oh man. I am excited just thinking about doing absolutely nothing.

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The best part of this award? I get to pass the award along and tag the others to play this game so I can live through your fantasies vicariously. (Yeah, I know. That makes me an uber loser for having to live my fantasies through your fantasies…).  What I really wanted to do here is to copy and paste my entire blogroll.  Instead, I am going to beg you, implore you, beseech you, “puppy eye assault” you to go ahead, accept this award, own this challenge and write about the five characters that give you that “tinkling” feeling. Or please share by leaving a comment.

In addition, I’m going to round up the usual suspects who I assume would DELIGHT in such an opportunity to talk about the objects of their sexual fantasies. PLEASE DO consider this as my sincere adoration rather than an accusation, ladies! Yes, my darlings. I am putting you on the spot. The G Spot.

Andrea @ A Little Bit Rock n Roll

Gorgeous @ A Vapid Blonde

Elly @ Buggin Word

Mrs. Sexy @ Mrs. BlogAlot

Mary @ Pajamas and Coffee

Patty @ Patty Punker

She who is “NOT Kaiser Sose. Spartacus. or Your father” @ The Sky Is Falling

And I seriously would have been the most egregiously remiss if I did not tag Wicked Shawn @ Wicked Girls Think It for this one.

I think we are all in for a treat.

*Rubs hands* EXCELLENT!

WTF Wednesday: There, I fixed it (A Pictogram)

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The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico gets bigger and bigger... Nobody knows what to do yet...

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As Lagunatic suggested, the execs should go clean up this mess...

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Srly. You can't make this shit up. The Onion is not as creative as this one.

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We interrupt our regular Monday Morning program to tell you…

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The Fail Whale is Back!

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So how are we expected to start our Monday morning when we come back to our dreary cubicles, we start reading our emails, we find so many things to share with the anonymous Interweb, and we are “all dressed up with nowhere to go”? (Well, some smartie pants whom I adore dearly came up with a list of 10 awesome things we could be doing when Twitter is down that is mired in self mockery. Yes we know we are ridiculous, 140 characters at a time).

Without Twitter as my soap box, my mega phone, my mountain top, I am ready to burst.

Monday mornings already suck ass as it is…

How am I going to complain about having to drag myself out of bed to work? Who do I tell about the Dilbert moments in my office? What do I do now that I don’t have the venue to share my wisdom, or just things that I read and find interesting? I am a closeted SHARER, goddamn it!

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Twitter is down as confirmed by, ironically, tweets...

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Well, let’s keep our fingers crossed that this outage will not last as long and as disastrous as the Fall of August 2009 which lasted for *Shudder* AN ENTIRE FRIGGIN’ MORNING!

In the mean time, I have found quite a few stopgap websites that help ease the panic by reminding me how ridiculous all this is.

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Duly noted. But you know I am going to ignore you and the sarcasm as soon as Twitter is up and running again.

Throw Up

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Preamble

If you have a very sensitive gag reflex you probably should skip this post. Or read it with a bucket nearby.

To the warriors I know and love, Kate and Elly, nobody could know what you and your loved ones went through. Chemo-induced nausea is no laughing matter. And I hope my not-so-amusing musings on throw-up does not offend.

We all know that eating disorder is debilitating and sometimes life-threatening. If you or your loved ones suffer from bulimia, I hope you are not offended by this post either.

Oh, by the way, just to save you from disappointment: I am NOT pregnant.

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If I feel compelled to include a long preamble before I feel comfortable talking about a subject, why do I even do it?

Because I am sick and tired of throwing up. I am sick of feeling sick. And I need to purge some knots and bolts inside my cranium shaken loose undoubtedly when my body was rejecting whatever was inside me, with brutal force. This is my mental throw-up. Again.

Let’s start from the beginning, and I’ll share a secret with you. I can hold my liquor really well, and I believe that I can drink most people under the table. Two tricks: will power is Number One. If you are determined to get drunk, you will behave like a fool after downing a non-alcoholic beer. When I feel the buzz, the glittery invitation to Happy Land, “Just let go!” I tell myself, “Do not get drunk. If you feel like screaming, just smile. If you feel like howling, just cry.” The second trick, the Secret, is GO THROW UP. I am a champion at throwing up. No shit. Any businessman (I used the gender-specific term for a reason) worth his weight in Taiwan (and I suspect in many Asian countries) knows how to force himself to throw up when he finds himself no longer able to hold the liquor. You go throw up, you come back, you keep up the good fight at the table. Drinking and deal-making (or whatever it is that you are going after) come hand in hand. Whoever lasts the longest wins.

As a woman you soon learn the trick. You drink them under the table. You beat them at their own game.

So I have that history with vomiting. To some extent, I see it is a way for your body to help you clear the mental department, get rid of whatever doesn’t jive with your insides. At the very least, your hangover won’t be as bad the next day.

With both of my children, I suffered from what they would call “severe Morning sickness” only that my morning seemed to last the entire fucking day.

I am sorry if I am not writing in paragraphs. I am just spewing out sentences now. A period makes a sentence, you see.

I actually lost weight during both of my pregnancies. More than 15 lbs. in the first two weeks. Big boobs, thin waist. What I had dreamed of having all along. Whoever is up there does have a wicked sense of humor. For my second pregnancy, I threw up from the first month until the day of delivery. So combined, I’ve had more than one year of daily practice, practice for feeling the urge, for keeping it down, for letting it go.

By the end, I was a master of it. It’s almost banal.

My husband called it, Worshiping at the porcelain throne.

By the end of the violent retching, I was literally hugging the bowl. I sometimes invoked the deity in the midst of tears, “What do you want? What else do you want? There is nothing. Nothing left. Can’t you see?” Still, the mythical force inside me tugged at the innards so I dry heaved, gagged, my mouth opened, my rib cage lifted and compressed, air rushed out along with one of the most dreadful, despairing sounds. I imagine I sounded like a banshee. Probably looked like one too.

And surprise, surprise, I have a theory for this too: if men could get pregnant, we’d have found a cure for morning sickness before we’d sent a man to the moon.

Lately my head is constantly inside a toilet bowl. After every meal. I am suffering from perpetual motion sickness as if I could sense the movement made by the Earth.

Somehow my current condition reminds me of the toilet scene from Train Spotting a lot. You know the scene I was talking about. The one when he fell into the absolutely disgusting, beyond description, you have to see it to understand the magnitude of what it means to earn the label “The Worst Toilet in Scotland”, toilet bowl.

My permanent nausea is caused by something decidedly unpoetic: allergy. The chain of reactions goes like this:

Allergy. Sinus. Ears. The little hair in your ears that I always imagine to look like Nemo’s anemone swaying in a vacuum. Dizziness. Motion sickness. Puke.

I walk around all day going about my daily routines, feeling transparent. I could tell the specific locations of my digestive track: Here is my stomach. Here my esophagus. Here my throat. Here my mouth.

Unlike the main character in Sartre’s Nausea who soon started questioning his own existence, the urge forces me to come to terms with my physicality. The whole lot of meatiness. The anatomy. There is no getting away from it. I feel my existence. And it is not really a good feeling to be acutely aware of yourself at all times. I am the red person under a special “Oh no she’s going to puke” detector.

I keep my mouth pressed tightly so nothing would come out by accident. I go about my business: making the kids dinner. Doing the dishes. Gesturing for them to eat their dinner otherwise there’ll be price to pay. Giving them “the look”. At the same time I sense the stuff being squeezed all the way into my brain. Through my cheekbone, the veins, into the temple areas. Behind my eyes.

“Sorry, kids. Mommy has to go throw up.”

“Ok, mom.”

I walk calmly upstairs, change out of my good clothes, turn on the radio, turn on the fan, spray Clorox cleaner on the floor and the rim and the bowl of the toilet, scrub the toilet, flush the toilet. And I get ready for the wave.

The toilet bowls are sparkling clean in my house lately. Because staring at a dirty bowl when I am throwing up makes me nauseous.

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ETA: Wisdom gleaned from Christine‘s Comment: “Lesson learned: drink hard and vomit gently.”

“precisely ninety-one centimeters from himself”

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“Having been struck by a 150-ton meteorite, Henry has to adapt to living precisely ninety-one centimeters from himself.”

Once in a while, you come across something that so resonates with you to the point of altering your reality. Or your perception of reality. It’s like, all of a sudden, you can see yourself more clearly. You understand what is going on inside your head. You see what the root of your problem is. Yet to explain that something, or how or why, is completely beyond your command with words. Haunting. That is all you can think of.

Tautology: using something incomprehensible to explain something incomprehensible.

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Exactly 91 cm away from himself…

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I came across something yesterday.  The Bloggess mentioned it as “Painfully poignant: you should watch this”.  So I did. And I have not been able to stop thinking about it. Have not been able to stop crying actually.

If you have ever questioned who you are, where you are, what you are, why you are. If you live with the haunting that you may not be yourself. Or that if you are, then who is this other person. If you ever feel/fear that if you lie still long enough, you will for sure float outside of your body and look down back on yourself lying in bed, and you are scared that you may not recognize yourself. If you could almost precisely predict when you will have an existential breakdown.

If you wonder what it is like to have such chaotic thoughts inside your being. Watch this. “Skhizein“, written & Directed by Jérémy Clapin

 

Skhizein (short film) from Jeremy Clapin on Vimeo.

 

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Cashews Are Nuts…

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And so are YOU!*

* Tis said with love and affection and gratitude…

This post is a belated thank-yous to many of you who have bestowed me with love and support and honors.

Chris over @ Vintage Christine (whose subtitle “I’m not old, I’m vintage” has become my battle cry) sent me a surprise Valentine’s Day gift box.

It went down like this: her cat sat on a card with my name on. Cat nip, my friend. Cat nip.

Valentine's Day Surprise from Vintage Christine

Thank you, Chris, for the wonderful surprise! I would like to tell you that yours was the ONLY Valentine’s Day present I received. But, my lovely husband beat you to it by putting away the Christmas tree without me asking. (Truth be told: I almost got an orgasm when I came home on Valentine’s Day and saw the empty spot where the Christmas tree once was… He does know me very well. Probably too well for our own good…)

Andrea over @ A Little Bit Rock n Roll tagged me in January THIS YEAR to learn “10 things about me”. I am more than 10 kinds of crazy, that’s for sure, but I digress… The first thing you need to know about me is I WUV YOUR BLOG.

A Vapid Blonde @ A Vapid Blonde and Magda @ I’m Just Sayin’ both shared with me the “I LOVE YOUR BLOG” award that they themselves have deservedly won. Thank you, ladies! And, at the risk of sounding like a valley girl, I love you crazy women on the coasts. I do!

I LOVE YOU BAAACCCKKK!

To accept this award, apparently I also need to tell you something about me.

Elizabeth, or “Mrs. Darcy” as I like to secretly call her inside my head, @ The Sky Is Falling also shared with me her award, “THE CIRCLE OF FRIENDS”.

You complete me. Yes, all of you!

To accept this award, I have to tell you 5 things that I enjoy…  This is easy.

Sex

Sex

Sex

Sex

Sex

Well, usually that’s not how it goes down over here. So my second best choice would be:

A clean house. (Preferably not by me)

Shelli @ Shaking the Tree gave me a two-fer:

Thank you Shelli! I especially love the “50 Cents” award as I consider his story of rising from a drug-dealing youth to international renown to be rather inspiring.

Randa over @ Sometimes I Even Amaze Myself passed along a beautiful award… Thank you, Randa! Now I also need to tell you 7 interesting things about myself.


I am truly honored that y’all see enough in my irreverent ramblings to stop by my little piece of therapeutic heaven and actually listen to what I have to say, let alone sharing these awards with me. Thank you so much.

Seriously, guys. There really is not that much about me that’s exciting. Whatever I have, I have been letting loose here on this blog. Are you sure you are not bored already?! So after I have done my math and drawn up a Venn diagram, in order to follow all the rules, I will share with you 5 things that I enjoy and 5 more things about myself.

5 things I enjoy that may or may not be within my easy grasp, am obsessed with, and/or covet (in addition to sex and a clean house):

  • The ocean (or more accurately, staring at the ocean)
  • Toblerone
  • The smell of oncoming rain shower on a hot summer day
  • People watching (preferably in a sidewalk cafe, even better if in Paris…)
  • Bubble tea (No, Elly, it is NOT ok to mention “Pearl Necklace” to me when I am telling you how much I enjoy Pearl Bubble teas…)

5 things about me (in addition to me being Chinese and ALL THAT this tiny fact indicates…)

  • I am certifiable anal retentive. I cannot relax until the dishes are done, the floor has been picked up, and “things” have been put away. I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night to clean up the house. That being said, I only need everything to be off the floor. So what if I have 3 hampers of clothes waiting for me to fold? As long as the clothes stay inside the hampers, I am fine with it. I am a Hypocrite when it comes to housework, I guess.
  • I am obsessed with multi-tasking and efficiency when it comes to housework. I NEVER EVER walk through the house without picking up and putting away anything. I actually plan the next piece of dish I will wash as I am doing the dishes. It is hard to explain. You need to be there.
  • Things that have profound effect on me in my youth: Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood, Wim Wenders’ Der Himmel über Berlin and Hermann Hesse’s Demian (Yes, I am Cliche Himself… Don’t judge…)
  • I have attempted suicide in high school. No. I really did not want to die.
  • I can make myself cry on demand. If we see each other, I can demonstrate for you. It’s really amazing.

(HOLD THE ORCHESTRA!)

As a reward for sitting through my lllloooonnnnggggg acceptance speech, I will present the

I GIVE GOOD BLOG award

The best name for a blog award. Hands down.

JennyMac over @ the immensely popular Let’s Have a Cocktail really surprised me when she presented me with this award last… ummm, eh, huh, hmmm, December… (I am very embarrassed… I got distracted by all your wonderful blogs. So stop judging me!)

Following the rules, I get to pass this award along to four wonderful blogs. This is rather difficult since I know way more than four blogs that deserve this award. I have been agonizing over this since last December and I am driving myself crazy over this! No wonder Simon Cowell is always so grouchy. The pressure. Ah, the pressure gets to you…

After making the heart-wrenching process called “drawing names from a hat” (since I do not have a cat like Chris does…), I shall pass this gorgeous, sexy award to the following four hot steamy sexy blogs:

A Little Bit Rock n Roll

Brilliant Sulk

BugginWord

The Sky Is Falling

As the rule for the award dictates, I shall go mix up a cocktail for myself and I hope you will be able to do the same. I hope too that you will be able to find time to visit these blogs mentioned above and I am pretty sure you will like what you find there.

Thank you again for the support you all have shown me. Knowing that you are out there really makes my Tron-like existence rewarding and ironically, my life in flesh more bearable.