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The elderly lady in front of me in line was confused. She was blankly staring at the card swipey thing for her credit card (incidently, the fact that I don't have a better way to say card swipey thing means I'm not foo far from being in her shoes).
She was asking the checkout girl for help very politely...but she refused to make eye contact, staring at her register. A little bit disgusted with the store employee, I step in and show the lady how to use her credit card. I make sure to say everything in a loud voice so that 1) the woman can hear and 2) the checkout girl can hear and feel bad about herself.
The woman thanks me as I step up to pay for my things. She gently tugs on my shirt and says, "I'm going to be needing help out to the car."
That's fine, I'd be happy to. Just give me a minute to pay for my groceries
A cloud of confusion swirled about her, then the clouds cleared and she finally understood.
I needed a tip. That's it. That's why I wasn't moving her groceries post haste. Not because I wasn't a store employee and wanted to pay for the things I wanted to go home and eat myself. I just wasn't being properly motivated.
I can't imagine strippers feel this awkward taking money from people. But an old OLD lady trying to push a 5 dollar bill into my RUNNING shorts (I won't even dignify the question of what part of my package she brushed...hint: not not all of it) was enough for me to call my wife up immediately and ask for divine forgiveness (she is a minister, afterall).
We had a fun walk out to her car, and ended up having a good laugh about it. But I couldn't help shaking the notion of was that just a senior moment
or just the best pickup ever?
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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I haven't worked out in quite a while. So much, in fact, I can be safely considered "porky." My wife's probing fingers into my spare tire (and subsequent giggles) have motivated/shamed me into working out again. I borrowed this P90X thing from a friend and today?
I can't move.
My body is weeping.
My daughter asked me to pick her up, and I just said, "maybe later, ok?" She was sad.
This is what I get for being so lazy.
This morning was trash day....my ever helpful daugher said, "Ashie help daddy carry trash."
I took her up on the offer.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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So after 2 years of teaching (Biology/Physics/Chemistry/Anatomy) I decided to move on. The kids were great. I was surprised how easy it was to connect with them. But, the parents mostly sucked. A lot.
I enrolled in a master's program for funsies. During this time we had our first child. She's two now and the most beautiful girl on the planet. (She's currently sitting at my feet singing "twinkle twinkle little star" while throwing around my old organic chemistry model parts)
Finished that sucker (master's degree), and I just finished my first year of medical school.
there, I said it.
I made the jump and fulfilled my mother's wildest dreams. I hope you're happy mom!
I am the asian sterotype. I have glasses. I went to medical school. I have a huge d*ng. The triple crown, if you will.
I also had twins (one boy, one girl) during my first semester in medical school. (Note to self: that was stupid)
Ok, all caught up? Awesome.
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Comments: Read 13 or Add Your Own.
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My mother, sister and wife were all unsuccessful in changing me from my under-roo wearing, NES playing, fart joke making man child into a productive member of society. Instead I took the approach of pretending (ie, lying) to be respectable and adulty like.
So I became a teacher.
A TEACHER.
Honestly, in the time it took me to introduce myself to my first class I grew up 10 years. It was wild. All of a sudden it was "Mister" this and "Mister" that. Did I know some random trivia? Could I show them how to do stuff? Was my wealth of knowledge enough?
Nope. But they don't know that. Being the only asian (WITH GLASSES OMG) in town automatically made me the freakin' oracle. If I could make it through a sentence without cracking a smile it was a goddang law passed down from Jesus himself.
I even got the kindergarten thinking 1 + 1 = yellow. I didn't even teach kindergarteners!
Fun fact: I can only effectively look down sternly/menacingly (from my 5'6" vantage point) at a 6th grader. Any older than that and the odds are I'll be looking up. Stupid Texas.
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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So, I find myself on livejournal again. It's odd, yes. It's awkward, to be sure.
Ok, that's done with, I'll just write about my day, right? I wish it were that easy. My life is so much different now.
Wife? Check
Babies? Check
A crap ton of stress? Check!
John + Kate, you got nothing on us. :)
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Comments: Read 24 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, January 2nd, 2006
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I'm still quite the prude when it comes to girl matters. A few years back I bought my first (and last) Maxim. This year, during the season of Christmas, I decided it was time to conquer yet another unknown frontier.
The panty store.
Ever since I was a kid, the lingerie section of any store would send chills down my spine. I ain't afraid of no ghosts, but a wall filled with brassieres stopped me cold. Boys aren't supposed to go there...ever...unless you're a slimey pervert and/or transexual....or a transexual pervert. Sure, it's silly. I'm an adult who can buy whatever/whenever I feel like it. Enter xmas.
Victoria's Secret.
I hate this place. I have successfully avoided entering this store by threatening any girlfriend (and wife) that I'll tell my mom on their skanky butts if they make me go inside with them. But, being married, it was time to let it go, a brash young man on a mission of love (i.e. pervert).
I confidently walked straight into Victoria's Hell Hole....
...and froze like a little boy caught in the cookie jar. I stood in the middle of the store, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. I didn' t know what to do, so instead of anything intelligent, I stared at my feet (you're not supposed to look at naughty things, right?) until a saleswoman asked me if I needed help.
Her, "Would you like some help finding something?"
Me, "My, isn't it a beautiful day out for a stroll through the mall?"
Her, "Sure, I guess. But is there somethi - "
Me, "I NEED PANTIES WOMAN!"
Ok, so the conversation wasn't exactly like that, but actually pretty close. She probably had a lot of experience hand holding retards like myself so she just laughed and walked me through some "options". However, when the she devil started using words like...SEXY and EROTIC, I completely broke down and grabbed whatever was on the closest rack. I'LLTAKETHISMKAYTHANKS!
So she boxed it up and said, "oh sorry, we're out of small bags, I'll have to give you THIS HUGE VICTORIA'S SECRET BAG THAT YOU'LL HAVE TO LUG AROUND THE MALL YOU BIG SLIMEBALL."
I swear, small children pointed at me, tugging at their moms' sleeves, asking if I was going to molest them. "Mom, is that a pervert?"
Yes it is, dear, yes it is.
- Lunchbox
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, December 12th, 2005
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Finals week. A little busy, a little lazy.
Me 'n the study group.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Friday, December 9th, 2005
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I used to believe that teaching was a noble profession. But now I realize people just say that kind of sh't to trick people into doing it. As some kind of cruel joke, instead of paying teachers more to increase job satisfaction, we get pats on the back. Long hours? It's noble! Get paid less than the local Taco Bell? It's noble! Work with idiots? You're such a great person, here, take my virgin daughter as a gift!
Seriously, the next person to say what a good person I am for teaching is getting a fat lip...or at the very least a purple nurple (mmm...nurple).
Most days I love it. Feeding lies to the youth of white america is actually pretty fulfilling. Most of the junior high kids are the best thing since sliced bread. I like them so much I'd like to adopt them and collect welfare. But on some days, when a particularly fat assed high school kid decides to come off his meds, I'd rather send them to the state correctional facility.
Me, "...and so that's why sickle cell anemia is prevalent among African Americans."
Fatty, "What's anemia?"
Me, "It's just a general term for when people seem tired because they don't circulate as much oxygen."
Fatty, "Oh, so is that why blacks are so lazy and don't want to work?"
Now, if Fatty were your garden variety trailer park kid, I'd just pat him on the head and chuckle at his ignorance. But he's not. He's the son of a wealthy doctor. He ought to know better.
So that's why I made him stand outside in the hallway holding 4 huge textbooks above his head.
What? We're not supposed to correct children like that, Mrs. Principal? Oh I didn't know we let ignorance off so lightly. Wait a second, are you saying he didn't say anything wrong? Racism in the classroom is ok if we're all white? Did you not notice I'm one of those KO-reans? Are you oppressing me? No? Fine, stand next to Fatty...and bring some books.
haha, yeah well...that last part was fulfilling.
- Lunchbox
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Comments: Read 21 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, December 5th, 2005
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Growing up I regarded myself as stupid, while my sister was brilliant in all things. For my father, she followed in his footsteps to M.I.T. For my mother, my sister was a natural musician. Going through school, teachers would greet me with open arms, "I'm expecting the same level of work as your sister," only to sigh in a disappointed way when they returned my first test. My mother hung on to the phrase "He's got potential" like a safety net of hope for me.
I am Danny Devito.
Later I went to college. Later I failed out of college. 4 years and nothing to show, I returned to Silicon Valley and worked my way up through the internet food chain, a safe haven from grades and transcripts.
Much later, I found someone that believed in me...so of course I married the hell out of her. But still not content with my lot in life, I decided (with a whole lot of encouragement) to return to school and do something worthwhile:
To change my entire self image.
However, I didn't stride off to school every morning with trumpets and fanfare. Rather I went to meet my 10-12 years younger "peers" with a bowed head, hidden underneath a baseball cap...ashamed, and very scared of failing again.
Which of course led to neurotic study habits, a stand offish attitude towards other students, and a bulletproof 4.0 gpa. (I'm going to make t-shirts: 4.0 will make you one million dollah! Ask me how!)
Finals are approaching. In a few days, I'll walk down the halls of the university one more time...greet the professors (who understand that I, unlike many others, don't need to worry about the final in their class)...help some hung over frat boy cram for the ever elusive "D"...
and graduate.
It took two and a half years to slowly realize that being not as good as my sister is ok. I might not be brilliant, but I can certainly get by. Oh yeah, and this semester I started teaching.
That's right, TEACHING, beyotch!
I have entire classrooms full of kids who wonder what it's like to be as brilliant as I am (I'm a good liar). It's like I've been on a psychiatric roller coaster and when I get my degree I will have completed all 12 steps of Retards Anonymous (yet another t-shirt in the making).
I'm going to call all my long lost friends who think I've dropped off the edge of the world. I'm going to scream "Hey look! I got my degree! I don't have to be ashamed of being the stupidest person in the room! Sure it took longer than most people, but I did it! Can I be in the club now? No? I need a PhD? Godamnit, fine be right back..."
Finally, I can proclaim that I'm asian without remorse or apology. No longer the "average asian man" of myth, I join my bretheren in the stereotypical halls of the despised curve breaking asian nerd. I cling to the stereotype of the "smart one" (as well as being hung like a horse) like a god damned badge of honor.
Of course, I'm loving every minute of it.
- Lunchbox
p.s. yeah, I'm back for good this time
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Comments: Read 35 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, December 4th, 2005
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A few days ago I looked through an old email account. And low and behold it had stuff by this guy named all2swift...so I click...and I'm back...and you're all still here.
What.the.hell.
It's been like a gozillion years and yet, here we are...face to face, a couple of silver spoons.
Things certainly have changed for me, but I digress.
What.the.hell.
Strange thing is, after logging in (took me all of .005seconds to remember my password), I felt somewhat at home. I know, lame and lamer. Since I first checked out of the internet world, all I've been completely immersed in studying...studying...studying...like a good asian boy should. (like a good asian boy should have done in the first place and not gotten drunken grades the first time around...sheesh)
I wish I could still call/email yous guyses and say "hey, let's all meet for *insert food/alcohol reference* tonight!" and by some strange internet voodoo....it'd happen. And I wouldn't get stabbed or raped by some 70 year old internet weirdo (i have taken his throne now, thank you).
Anyhow. Missin' you! K.I.T. B.F.F.!
p.s. what.the.hell?
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, August 26th, 2004
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I'm on the atkins kick again, and no matter what anyone tells you, there be some pretty bad side effects.
Last night I sat down for a good pooper. I hadn't pooped in like...a week, and I knew it'd be a killer.
30 minutes later my wife runs to the bathroom to see what was the matter. Oh, did I mention I was screaming like a little girl?
Her, "What the heck's going on in there?!"
Me, "I'm being prison raped by my bowel movement, one moment por favor!~"
Her, "What?! That's sick! Why do you say stuff like that?"
Me, "Sorry, can't talk, I'm busy losing my butt virginity. ARRRRRRR"
Constipation is a life threatening issue...or at least makes for a good joke. With a punchline of searing butt pain.
I still can't walk straight.
-Lunchbox
This update has been brought to you by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) all2swift.
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Comments: Read 24 or Add Your Own.
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Last weekend was a non stop freak fest.
But in a good way.
Friday, after class, I drag myself home and my wife starts the freak-a-thon (not in the bwow chikka bwowow way) by saying, "Pack your bags, we're going to California!"
Wow!
So we jump on a tiny plane to meet our connection in Dallas...while we're waiting for the plane, I was imagining how many sushi restaurants I'd be molesting when I got to California. You can't believe how bland the food out in texas is...man...it sucks. Anyhow, lo' and behold my sister in law and her husband show up at the gate.
Wow! Wow!
They decided to join us in california for the weekend before their cruise to alaska (bling bling). That's great! Not only do I get to see my family and my beloved dog, but I get to hang out with cool-extendo-family-with-lots-of-money-to-fund-my-nekkid-sushi-gorging-fantasies.
After arriving in California, and a touching reunion with my dog, my wife says she has to meet a friend of hers. So she belts out and in an hour comes back....with my sister
Wow! Wow! Wow! eh...ok
My sister came in from boston for the weekend? Hm, that's weird. But ok, she can hang out with us as long as she's the chauffeur.
Saturday night, we head out to our favorite chinese restaurant for a good Tienamen Square ho down - but instead I find:
30 of my closest friends shouting
SURPRISE!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Holy sh't! This was all an elaborate plan by my wife to throw me a surprise party?! Can it be that I seriously underestimated her ability to manipulate and deceive me? Wow, that's pretty impressive. She gets a gold star...an evil gold star...she rules.
My wife knew that this year, I was feeling pretty craptastic about my birthday. (The big three oh...hell i was supposed to be able to speak 3 asian languages fluently by now...and be a millionaire...) So she decided I needed some serious cheering up and what better way to do it by spending it with my closest friends and family (+ dog) in california.
Does she rule or what?
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Comments: Read 40 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, July 10th, 2004
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Life's a Bitch.
Take now, for instance.
My wife just told me to, "get out," and ran out the apartment. Meaning, "you can get out of this marriage, there's the door, m'kay?"
For the past few months we've been fighting day and night about purchasing a new home. She wants this....I want something different (less expensive), etc, etc. The list of things to fight about never ends....AND when I decide not to take a stance on what kind of fucking bathroom fixtures to buy (to avoid additional fighting)...she wants to fight about me not being involved.
As she stormed out the door she yelled, "If you hate it so much, you take care of cancelling it!"
The house, you see, is under contract...almost at closing.
So I obligingly call up the realtor and various other people and say, "Sorry, we're not mature enough to buy a house at the moment."
But what I meant was, "Sorry we're not mature enough to be married at the moment."
Well of course she came storming back in, heard what I had done and now we have a Brand New Fight™ ! exit stage right
God, it's like I have a huge weight off my chest...well...a 5'6" naggy as hell weight...and that's a lot. That is until she storms back home...
...unless i sedate myself with a twelve pack of beer before she gets back.
...Race you to the fridge!
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Comments: Read 15 or Add Your Own.
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For our summer vacation we'll be traveling the exotic roads and highways of...you guessed it...
Texas.
First stop, Austin.
Second stop, Houston.
Third stop, Dallas.
Fourth stop, my brain -- from Texas overload.
We're doing the round trip of tayhas to visit friends and family. A weeks worth of driving, eating, touristing and sweating (i hate the humidity in houston).
I can't wait for summer school to start already.
p.s. Troy is gay. In the grand tradition of shows like "Joanie loves Chacchi" the movie should have been named "Achilles" with a big heart and a picture of Brad pitt. I can't wait for "Dodgeball" to come out. Now that's entertainment.
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Comments: Read 19 or Add Your Own.
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One of the worst things about living out in the middle of nowhere is that I don't have any asian friends.
Don't get me wrong. People here are great. I just didn't realize that I needed to be around other short yellow folk until I moved out here.
So when I saw this asian guy in class I was pretty psyched.
Slightly dyed spikey hair: Check!
Barbell piercing at the top of his ear: Check!
90's or above on exams: Check!
Urban wear clothes: Check!
This guy was a carbon copy of any given asian in San Francisco.
Me: Hey man, wassup
Him: Not much, what's going on
Me: Dude, you asian?
Him: Why you want to copy my homework?
Me: No man, just curious, us yellow men need to stick together
Him: Oh, no man....I'm not asian, I'm mexican.
....
Me: Oh that's cool, can i pretend that you're asian?
Him: Sure, I'm fine with that.
Me: Then I will call you....Asican.
Him: No problem...can I copy your homework?
And we've been friends ever since. A friendship forged from mistaken racial backgrounds. A match made in the armpit of Texas.
-Lunchbox
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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You ever have that date that went bad? You're dropping her off at her place, but she refuses to get out? For whatever reasons, she's mad and needs to explain why it's not "Ok" to play the quiet game during a meal togher.
Man, my old car was rank of stale perfume and the sleazy women spit from "Nuh uh, no you di ain't!"
But eventually, she'll get out...even if it takes a helping foot.
Marriage is not like this.
There is no cave of bachelorhood safety. You cannot, and will not, be left alone.
you WILL listen, you WILL understand.
For the record, marriage is great. But when she gets that look in her eye I go straight to "I'm sorry" just to shorten the car ride of fighting hell.
'Cuz....she's not getting out.
Awesome.
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Comments: Read 17 or Add Your Own.
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In this country, we take care of the less fortunate... we have programs for people who are mentally handicapped. We take these less intelligent individuals, void of any education, and place them into jobs created just for them.
We take these unambitious candidates and give them guns, shiny cars, badges and the authority to terrorize random people...they are...
Police officers.
You remember the super jocks from high school? Chances are they're your local neighborhood po-lice man. Remember the fat football team manager/waterboy that no one liked? Yup, he's one too!
I live in a small city, and in small cities they are responsible for things like:
1) Eating
2) Getting pissed if you don't call them sir, or officer.
3) Making sure the local football star doesn't get caught with a DUI
And don't forget their financial contributions to society. Boss Hog needs money to feet his fat belly! "Go write me some tickets, Roscoe P Coletrain!" Tickets tickets tickets! I've personally got 2 tickets within the past month (a new personal record). And considering my commute to school is about 4 miles, it makes you wonder.
Don't get me wrong. I think policemen are a valuable asset...like when I want to repress a minority. And sure, I'm probably a little mad at the assjerk who keeps giving me tickets for heinous crimes of "not completely stopping at a yield sign" or "going 8 miles over the speed limit on the high way" - i'm just venting.
But more and more, I see that they're sad with their life, and need to bury their woes by making other people miserable when not trying to get their video into COPS.
Police man, I salute you! (of the one fingered variety)
(note: policemen are not so bad. They really do a valuable service that no one really wants to do...including police officers.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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You know when you wake up and sometimes you have a song stuck in your head? It might have been a song you heard the day before while driving to work. It might have been a song some kid was belting out as you walked by in the mall.
Or, it might be because your neighbor in the adjacent apartment is blasting it over and over at 4 in the freakin morning.
It started last night. I don't know what happened, and frankly I could care less. He started blasting Boys 2 Men "End of the Road" around 10pm. Over and over. It's like he got dumped in the godamned 80's and is making up for it RIGHT NOW.
So I crack a tired eye open as the bass shakes me awake. Earthquake? No. it's the END of the ROAD...and I CAN'T....LET....GO!
Either way, welcome to my top five most hated songs of all time. Boys2Men, please eat a bag of hell at your earliest convenience.
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Friday, February 27th, 2004
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For the past 2 weeks I've been studying. I've had 6 exams in the span of a single week.
How the hell do people do this?!
When I went back to school I was looking foward to huge amounts of free time between the weekend kegger parties and flexibility in doing...well nothing (note: i would not go to a kegger...well...ok maybe). I can't believe I'm studying all day long. This is hella worse than working - it takes all day and the cash flow is going in the other direction.
And I haven't even gotten the chance to rush yet! (note: i would never rush...well...ok maybe)
So, the exams have gone away (for now). It's like herpes, they just don't go away (note: i don't have herpes...well...ok maybe). I'm sure my brain isn't meant for this kind of punishment (it said so in the instruction booklet).
Holy jeebus.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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embarrassed.
cranky.