Everyone Loves an Asian Girl

Have A(nother) Dumpling...

2011-08-03T22:10:00.004-04:00

I figured it's time to post for the second time in 2011. :) I've had lots of different musings to throw around, but recently with the advent of potential future life changes, I've been thinking a lot of what I could possibly do in place of my current position as a Management and Program Analyst at the Department of Education. (Gotta love the DC nebulous job titles.) These musings have led to more tangential thoughts, which eventually spiraled into, What Would My Dream Job Be?

This is a conversation I've had several times with Matt for fun. One evening we sat through dinner in a teeny tiny Virginia town and plotted out our entire restaurant empire: dumplings and hot and sour soup. I would sell 6 for $3, 12 for $5, and a bowl of hot and sour soup for $2.50 apiece. Originally we thought we'd have excessively expensive overheads in Old Town Alexandria and we'd get a hopping yuppie lunch crowd, but I've since turned my sights to the underdeveloped area right around where we live, where the ginormous hulking brand new Department of Defense lurks over us, empty, future traffic snarls impending. Can you just imagine the line out the door for daily dumplings???

I'm sure that in reality, making dumplings every day would kind of suck, but I could totally do it for like a week, or even maybe a month. You can do anything for a month, right? :P More recently, I've decided that if I were to sell them, I'd buy a food truck instead. Follow my twitter feed at #dailydumplings! :)

So. That's just one of MY potential dream jobs. What's YOURS???

Happy 2011!!

2011-05-03T21:53:00.003-04:00

I realize that we're nearly halfway through 2011 and I've only just started my first post of the year. It's been quite eventful since last December. The world just watched the royal wedding of the decade and an international terrorist meet his doom in one weekend. We moved houses (to our SECOND abode of our married career), we hosted family, we hit up El Salvador (well, just Matt), Austin, TX and Jamaica, I got yet another eye surgery, took a month-long photo class, was quoted by the President of the United States, and Matt was officially accepted into the Foreign Service.

Buuut, that's not what this post is specifically about. This post is about the DC Bucket List, Part II. A few years back I had originally thought I was going to leave DC for sunnier, Westernier climates, so I came up with a list of things I had to do before I left. Happily, I can say I've done almost all of them in the three years hence. The Darth Vader gargoyle was cool, I JUST got back from a wonderful weekend in Charleston, I've finally visited Arlington Cemetery (thrice!), saw Little Shop of Horrors in Ford's Theater (twice), and was carried by the force of the NYC mob past the Rockefeller Christmas tree and caught a brief glimpse.

Now that I have successfully (almost) finished my original Bucket List, I hereby open the floor for The DC Bucket List: The Final Frontier. Given that Matt starts Foreign Service training on July 18th, and possible um, deployment (?) (I really should learn these technical terms) within three months, our temporary departure from this area (and most likely the United States) is imminent and we must take advantage of flushing toilets that allow you to throw your toilet paper inside.

SO. What should we make sure to do before we leave??? The sun is setting on our time here and I have left on my list:

Visit Boston. We were going to do this for our upcoming anniversary but given the slew of summer weddings and visiting family our next free weekend is sometime in July.
Eat a Magnolia cupcake from NYC. This was cool back in 2008. Now I eat cupcakes all the time from the 1000 shops in DC. I think I can strike this from the list.
Bike the sites at night. I have visited the sites in all forms of weather, daylight, nightlight, 98 degrees at 11 pm (that was HORRIBLE), braved sub-zero temperatures for the amazing Obama benefit concert, caught the Lincoln memorial in spring, summer, fall and winter, but never on a bicycle. Maybe I should modify this to "Segway the tours at night". That would be way more entertaining for all the tourists to see.

To this list I will add:

Eat pizza from Moroni & Brother's Pizza. Dude, it's called Moroni & Brother's pizza and has a trumpet on its sign. Plus it's supposed to be pretty good.
Check out the National Harbor. I know it's totally touristy but I've never been!
Find the National Aquarium - no, not the official one in Baltimore, but the one hiding in the "lower level of the Commerce Building". I mean seriously?!?! It's in the basement of the Commerce Building?? For this reason alone it merits a visit.
Find the WWI memorial. It's tucked away somewhere.
Visit Rock Creek Park. I don't know how I've missed it all these years.
If I'm feeling SUPER ambitious, perhaps hike Old Rag. I hear you have to be fit to do it, so this is iffy right now. :P
Eat a meal in West Virginia. Because I have to say I've been there.

Awight friends, this list is LAAAAAAME. Help me pretty please!! And please come with me on these adventures! I'll be back with updates when we actually find out where we'll be going, and of course you should all start saving money for plane tickets now to come visit. I promise it'll be a good time!

Going Hard Copy!!

2010-12-06T19:02:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago, I bought a Groupon for a discount-priced hardcover publication of my blog, and the coupon needs to be used up by December 31st. Problem is, the book has a 20 page limit, and I have.... oh, 146 posts on my blog.

So, I humbly submit a few of my favorites and ask you to vote for which ones you think deserve to be preserved in good old fashioned ink and paper for all my posterity to read. Now, let's see how long it takes before I come up with my list...

Come Alive with Pepsi...?

A Capitol Gathering

Baking Misfortunes. I still get flak for this one.

Random Rants

DC Native

Creepy Encounters

The Garbage Disposal. This one seems to be popular :)

My DC Rant. My personal favorite. :P It was written in 10 minutes flat. Pure inspiration.

I severely shortened the list to save you from feeling any obligation to read them all. Enjoy the trip with me down memory lane!!

The Power of the Internet...

2010-08-28T14:02:00.005-04:00

Some of you may know I started selling hats on Etsy last winter during "Snowpocalypse" or "Snowmaggeddon" or whatever the heck you want to call it... it was a hobby and has been quite fun. Mostly I've enjoyed the unintentional side effect of really getting a feel for 'small business' policies and that has given me more work experience to apply to my 'real' job than the Census Bureau really did. Sad, isn't it?

I'm a bit of an Internet stalker... given my stats background, I'm always curious who visits my sites (yes, you Blogger reader... I am tracking you! But don't worry, as long as you're not here to post lame Chinese spam comments, you and I can be friends forever). I have a few programs that lets me know how many visits I get daily, etc. Now, with Etsy, I'm lucky if I get, oh, 8 people a day. Usually it's 1 or 2. On days that I post cute adorable pictures of friends' babies, I can get up to oh, 20 on a REALLY good day.

So yesterday I went on (I usually check like once a week), and when I clicked on my home page, it was telling me that I suddenly had 167 visitors in one day, and 122 the next. I was flummoxed. What? Huh? Was the program glitching? Were there Google server issues? Was Etsy down? Was Etsy's server malfunctioning? (you can tell what my profession is...) The problem is, Google Analytics, as cool as it seems, is not really that user friendly. After many minutes of clicking around, I was finally able to ascertain that the bulk of those visits originated from... Russia.

NOW I was confused. Russia? Eh? Were the Russian spies who were arrested in Arlington a few months ago only the tip of the iceberg and they were really everywhere, infiltrating the entire northern Virginia area and specifically targeting my Etsy site? Were the Chinese spammers who have mercilessly attacked my blog recently teaming up with Russian spammers and determined to bring my Internet activities down? I didn't know Russia had a stake in Internet spamming. When I told Matt, he said "well, it's cold over there... maybe they all want your hats?"

Anyway, today I went back to dig deeper and finally, FINALLY, found the source of all the hubbub: Klub Osinski. Mafia digs? Drug cartel? No... apparently an online forum for... hobby knitters and crocheters. And apparently there are a LOT of hobby knitters and crocheters in Russia. I mean I guess it is true... it IS cold over there.

Oh where, oh where has my summer time gone...

2010-08-25T22:24:00.008-04:00

WHAT HAPPENED TO SUMMER???!??!?!?!?!?!

Every year it feels like an entire month gets shaved off of this precious and carefree time. Every dark and bleak winter we wimpy DCers start whining about how excited we are for summer, and how much we miss the warm weather and all the fun things we're going to do. Every April the temperatures immediately shoot up to 95 degrees (didn't we have, like, a record breaking June or something?) and all of those fun things turn into hermiting inside in the A/C.

I had no idea summer had already drawn to a close until I noticed that school has already started up for the local kiddos. That shocked me. What happened to lazing around by the pool?! (That happened briefly, once.) What happened to camping on the weekends? (Also managed to happen... once... last Saturday) Most importantly, what happened to my poor tomatoes that were supposed to bring forth an abundant of late-season fruit?!??!?!??! (Answer... um... they didn't. There are two sad, rotted, withered tomatoes that managed to spring forth and immediately die. I think they were dead before they were even ripe. Our plants basically deteriorated into a copulation ground for the crunchy beetles that infest our porch. We are terrible farmers.)

A few items we DID manage to accomplish:

Day trip to Baltimore (that alarming shade of red came from two sips of a 7/11 slurpee...!)

Night walks at the monuments (we managed to go during like, the record breakingest hottest night EVER in D.C.... we were out from 9:30 to past midnight and it never dropped below 95. I think we nearly suffered heat stroke)

4th of July at the Lincoln Memorial (my new favorite place to watch the fireworks)

Annual pilgrimage home to see the Hill Cumorah Pageant

I got on a plane twice: once to visit my sister in Texas and once for a wedding in Utah. Both times I wore my long swishy peasant skirt. Both times I managed to get it stuck in my underwear in the bathroom and walk around for a significant amount of time until some kind soul pointed it out (well okay, the first time my horrified sister spotted it within seconds... the second time... I was not so lucky.)

SO... what are YOUR favorite memories/things to do for the summer?

And until then, wake me up when September ends...

It's a Pierson Produce Party!

2010-06-04T19:47:00.002-04:00

So we joined a CSA for the first time this year (for those of you raising an eyebrow in confusion, it's a community supported agriculture, where you pay money for a 'share' of a local farmer's crop). It's been an adventure already... four heads of lettuce a week is a LOT of lettuce!!

Anyway, so I've been having a lot of fun trying out new recipes and thought in an attempt to chronicle my food adventures and share recipes and ideas along the way, I started a side/summer/food/blog: http://piersonparty.blogspot.com/ whereupon you may gaze upon other peoples' yummy food pictures and we can all commiserate on how fun it is to make food and even more fun to eat. :)

In the words of the cheesy Iron Chef host: A la cuisine!

Happy Schmappy Anniversary!

2010-05-23T18:30:00.014-04:00

This past Sunday afternoon we were driving back from a nice weekend out of town and stopped at a Panera to eat lunch. At first I thought that it was a bit underwhelming, since it was my first anniversary meal, and we were at a Panera, but then I realized, it was completely appropriate; one year ago today, we also stopped in a Panera to get some food.

*********

Okay so I was going to upload a photo that our photographer took, of us, in Panera, but discovered that it was still in RAW format (approximately 13MB apiece), I had put them all on my portable drive to save space, and I can't preview any of the 1000+ pictures unless I have them open in Picasa... which would require putting them back all on my hard drive.

So instead, I'll just say that after seven hours of heat, wedding photo goodness and fun, I was more than a little thirsty/hungry/tired, our photographer for some reason recommended we go to this 'quaint little sandwich shop' down the street, which turned out to be freakin Panera, I walked in, the girl behind the counter surreptitiously left the counter, and then suddenly the entire staff of Panera appeared and gawped at us for the ten minutes we were there. Lovely. I think I got a free piece of bread though... at least, I don't remember paying for it. Oh, and Matt spilled his mango smoothie all over his white dress shirt, but luckily the tie covered it up. The secrets they don't tell you about weddings...

Mostly I just wanted to commemorate our first year together by (finally) posting a few pictures, for fun, and say that the first year has just FLOWN by! Here's to many more years to come!!

A million thank yous to everyone who stood outside and for standing in this kind of ridiculous can't-see-anyone-semi-circle. Bless Zach's heart for arranging it... clearly he is not familiar with the Mormon temple "here is where the requisite wedding party stands to get the group shot" pose. I really am still sorry for the crappy heat and sun.... but I love you and appreciate every drop of sweat shed in our behalf!!!!

And what's a wedding without a funny story right? Most of you have already heard this one but it goes down in my own family lore. It took me months to slowly glean it from everyone before I finally got the full picture.

It started out at the reception, as I *finally* sat down to dinner. My mom made a passing comment on how AWESOME Jen, my flower arranger, was. To this I will always heartily agree and said "yeah, Jen's pretty amazing right?" Mom: "She's AMAZING. When I punch the cake, she fix it. She is AMAZING." Me: "uh.... what??"

So during a break I casually strolled over to my girlfriends and asked "so what's this about my mom punching my cake...?" Girlfriends (in horror): "Omg we weren't going to SAY anything to you, you weren't supposed to KNOW about it!!!" Me: "so... what happened?" Girlfriends (ever loyal and considerate) "Oh don't worry about Jen, it's your big day, we'll tell you later, never mind..."

Months later, I finally extracted the full story as told from my sister, the de facto wedding planner, and Jen, the AMAZING friend:

Melinda: "So yeah. The cake. So the cake people came that afternoon and delivered and cake and put it on a table and left, and of course everyone was busy running around and setting up and I wasn't watching Jennifer! I wasn't watching! Apparently at some point Mom decided she was going to move your wedding cake, BY HERSELF, I don't know WHAT she was thinking, and of course she goes to pick it up and her hand, like, swiped off the side of the cake and then she's just standing there screaming SOMEONE DO SOMETHING and then she looks at her fist covered in frosting and she just starts LICKING it and is like 'mmmm this is good' lick lick lick and JENNIFER I AM FREAKING OUT SHE JUST PUNCHED YOUR CAKE!!!!! AAAAAH! And she's just standing there LICKING HER FIST!!!!"

Here, Jen the AMAZING friend completes the story: "Well, I was arranging your flowers and Melinda comes RUNNING up to me and says "um, excuse me please Jen, but we have a potential disaster on our hands can you please come help right now" so I walk over to where she's running and I see your mother approaching your wedding cake with a large knife in her hand, and whatever it was she was planning to do I just said "STOP! Whatever you're doing, put down that knife!!! We'll fix it, don't worry..."

And thus Jen proceeded to artfully stick some flowers in the offending corner (I have pictures somewhere) and voila, crisis was averted. You really would have never known anything was miss, unless you wanted to wonder why save for the fact that the flowers on the bottom tier are completely covering up the one corner of decorating. Oh well, makes for a funny story.

Six months later when my own sister got married I made sure to stay very close to the cake the entire time, and at one point when my mom flung out her arm I nearly bowled her over throwing myself between her and the table. You learn your lessons. ;)

Happy anniversary Matt!!! Your family was quite normal the entire time, thank you.

Tribute to John Emerson

2010-05-02T22:43:00.014-04:00

This is a tribute a year overdue, but nevertheless still worth tributing. I've mentioned it several times before, so here is the official full story:

Married: May 23, 2009. We were generously offered Matt's aunt's vacation condo up in Portland, Maine. On the day before our wedding, Aunt Carol's husband, Hank, gave us the keys to said condo, with a side comment of how he wished this was his only set but that he kept having to make more copies because his kids always lost his condo keys and how annoying it was. We fervently promised not to be like his kids, and to take good care of his keys. Oh the foreshadowing...

Day 2 of honeymoon: we wake up in said glorious condo, meander outside to find us some breakfast, and on the way there Matt says "hang on, lemme check to make sure I locked the car." As he is in the process of turning his body around, we hear a *chink-clank*. He doesn't think much of it until he gets to the car, reaches in his pocket, and realizes the precious condo keys are missing. Much huffing and puffing and stomping and pacing and grunting and swearing ensued (on Matt's part... I just stood there, amused) before we finally concluded that the only possible demise of the keys was the sewer grate located directly where the *chink-clank* happened. What a way to start a honeymoon. :) I know, because when I wandered into the closest open shop to tell them what happened, that's exactly what they said to me. I savor the fact that the very first time I've ever used the phrase "my husband" was to say "my husband flung our condo keys into the sewer down the street."

I had gone into said paint shop to ask for a phone book to search for any local municipal phone number of anything. I came out empty handed, but when I returned to the scene of the crime, Matt had used Google text (bless you, Google text) to find the phone number of Portland's City Hall and was frantically describing our situation:

After only a miraculous few minutes and several friendly transfers, he was promised that someone would come by in 'fifteen minutes' to check out the situation. Being D.C. residents, we highly doubted anything would come of it and spent the next five minutes discussing how to get another set of keys. It wasn't looking good... Matt's aunt's phone number had been left in the condo. Locked. With keys that were currently in the sewer.

Shockingly, within those five minutes of discussion and DURING our comment of "well I highly doubt anyone will actually come," a truck pulled up and a friendly man hopped out: "Looks like we've got a problem here! Noooooo worries..." within seconds he had yanked off the grate top with a crowbar. He reassured us that this type of thing happened all the time... really? But apparently, really, because out of nowhere he produced a length of rope with a magnet attached and dropped it in. Really? You're going to just boink the rope up and down until you find the keys? Really? Um... okay...

Happily and friendly-ily fishing, while Matt looks on sheepishly...

More dutiful fishing, while Matt now attempts to look useful...

And... VOILA!!! KEYS!!!!!

This single photo makes this entire blog post worthwhile. I cannot express how wonderful a moment it was for us. 1) Someone from the city of Portland ACTUALLY showed up. I mean, can you imagine if this had happened in D.C.? Uh yeah, have fun finding a locksmith. 2) He ACTUALLY found the keys!! What are the chances of THAT happening? He also assured us (though I don't know if I ever quite believed him) that it wasn't an actual 'sewer', but a 'rainwater drain' so the keys weren't quite as nasty as they could have been. But whatever. Matt rinsed them off thoroughly and didn't tell Hank until, y'know, a week later. But yeah... we were really glad to have those keys back.

I told Matt to give me his best "I'm an idiot" face here.

We sent a letter to city hall a few weeks after our return from our Maine trip, thanking Mr. John Emerson profusely, over and over again, for his lifesaving community service.

The best part of the whole situation was I noticed, after we were all done, that the semi-truck that had been parked across the curb the entire time, refueling the gas station or whatever, contained a driver that possessed an expression of extreme amusement when we walked by to resume our morning quest for breakfast. Ah well. Glad we could provide some entertainment for the residents of Portland.

Thank you John Emerson, fervently and from the bottom of both of our hearts. Thank you.

Time flies when you're having fun!

2010-04-23T12:59:00.009-04:00

In exactly one month from today I will have been married one year. ONE YEAR! It definitely goes by fast. I also have realized that in the one year since I've been married, I never posted any wedding pictures (except my banner I suppose) nor any fun wedding stories. I have lots of those, but that's for another time. Well okay here's one picture just because. I'll be posting more later I'm sure. :)

Today I wanted to pay homage to my Converse-wearing husband and why he'sven cooler now than he was a year ago, when we were listing off our "Top 10 Reasons Why I Want to Marry You" that we hastily scribbled on scrap paper from our photo shoot to our reception. Yeah... in Matt's case the procrastination is not surprising but I'm amazed even I'd put it off that long. Unfortunately for Matt, he could only scribble while he was at stoplights since he was driving. :)

Anyway, today's tribute is to Matt's Amazing Talent of Sweet Talking Anyone (But Especially Women). I've never really enjoyed calling people and making appointments/asking for information/purchasing things, etc. etc. I don't know why, it must hearken back to my Girl Scout days knocking on doors selling cookies. Since I've gotten married, the number of times I've had to make "those calls" has fallen to practically zero now that I make Matt do them all. It's because he's GOOD at it! Not only does he get what he wants, usually by the end the customer service rep is telling him that he's 'made their day'... I've personally heard it myself several times.

The specific example I highlight today is from my sister's wedding. We needed to purchase bear grass for her flowers. So I looked up a local florist and called them. My customer service talent:

"Uh hi, I was wondering if you had any bear grass... No? Okay... do you know anyone who does...? No? Okay wellthanksbye."

Hang up. "They don't have any bear grass. I HATE CALLING PEOPLE."

Matt (sweetly): "Here, let me try. What's the next number?" (dials)

"...Hi there - what was your name again? Nancy? Hi Nancy, how are you doing on this wonderful day? ...Yeah? That's so great to hear. I'm so glad to hear it. Isn't this weather wonderful? Y'know I've never really been to Utah before and I just visited the southern part and it's AMAZING. I mean, I wasn't really inclined to like Utah before but now that I've been to the southern part I'm totally converted. Have you ever been down there Nancy? ... No? Well take it from me Nancy, it's AMAZING. Next time you go let me know and I'll suggest places to go... right... haha yes....

Okay well Nancy, the reason why I'm calling today is because my wife's sister is getting married, and you know, it's a big day, and we need this thing called BEAR GRASS. Now Nancy, I'm a GUY, and you know, I don't know anything about this thing called BEAR GRASS, all I know is that I need to find it so my wife's sister can have an amazing wedding. Would you possibly have any of this BEAR GRASS in your wonderful shop?.... No? Oh that's too bad. Okay well-...what? Oh, you can find someone who does?.... Oh Nancy that would be wonderful, you are my hero.... what? ... Oh, you can call ahead and make sure they have it? ... what? Oh, you'll make sure they reserve some under my name so that they'll have it when I get there? ... Oh Nancy you are my hero. I am composing a song in your honor right now... Yes... Yes I am... Okay could I have the address of the place you're calling... Oh you want to give me directions? Okay, well I'm at the Little America... Okay..."

He gets directions, thanks Nancy profusely, sings her a song or two, and hangs up. My dad, who watched/listened to the entire interchange, exclaims "Wow! He is handy to have around! He can talk his way into AAAAAAAnything!'

Yep. Reason number #1,498,390 why Matt is awesome. :)

I've Been Busy...

2010-04-14T23:46:00.000-04:00

I might need professional help. Distract me please!

Food Tragedies turned...Triumphs?

2010-03-25T16:19:00.008-04:00

Today's post is partially inspired by a blog I wrote a few months ago regarding the food tragedies that so often befall us, and partially inspired by The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, by Jennifer 8. Lee. I have no idea what the 8 stands for, but the book is a fascinating read on the rise of Chinese food in America. For instance, did you know that there are more Chinese restaurants in the U.S. than McDonalds, Taco Bells, and Burger Kings combined?

Anyway, since that so tragic Chinese restaurant experience of yore (yore = last August), Matt and I set out to find a GOOD place, hopefully nearby, that would satiate our Chinese food cravings. (For those who live kind of near Duke Street-ish, A&J Noodle is always a fantastic bet. Get the dumplings and the beef noodle soup and call it a day.) I trawled through local and online magazine reviews and we finally found, much to our supreme delight, Hong Kong Palace at Seven Corners in Falls Church. It is a Sichuan place, which means every dish, at least that we've ordered, comes smothered in red chili peppers and peppercorn, and midway through each bite your tongue starts to go numb. It's blissfully delicious.

I also found reviews and postings for a nearby Peking Gourmet Inn, most notable for its famous politically savvy patrons, including both President Bushes and a number of Pentagon officials. My local friends have always claimed it to be their favorite, albeit "a little pricey", but worth going to celebrate big events, etc. It was mentioned in Fortune Cookie Chronicles for having a bullet-proof front window. Every time we drove past it to hit up Hong Kong Palace, we would muse "hmm, we really should try it sometime to see if it's worth all the hype."

A few weeks ago we decided to give it a shot; my parents were coming into town and we wanted to guarantee Chinese authenticity in any restaurant we took them to.

One word: Surreal.

Firstly, observe the interior. 1) no windows. Creepy. 2) Have you ever heard of the "power wall"? It's a DC thing, where you post pictures of you + [insert famous politician here] and then frame and hang the pictures, ostensibly in your large comfortable Capitol Hill office. This ENTIRE RESTAURANT was one giant power wall. From the moment you walked in past the coat check (p.s.... no self respecting Chinese restaurant has a coat check) to the moment you enter the deceivingly cavernous dining room, you are accosted with photos of politicians. The entire wall next to us were just Pentagon officials. JUST military photos. There must have been hundreds of them.

Secondly, the food was not authentic, not to mention it was, indeed, extremely expensive. I mean, it wasn't BAD... it was pleasantly edible, and I guess I could go as far as to say it was 'okay'. But it was *definitely* Americanized... every dish we asked the waiter about was just large platters of fried meat of different kinds. We ordered an egg plant dish (decent, but quite sweet) and a black pepper beef, which was large cubes of deep fried beef with a sprinkling of onion and the obligatory broccoli spears to give an air of health. The little place in Old Town around the corner from my former roomies did a better job, and at half the price.

Thirdly, as we looked around nervously as we ate, there were NO ASIANS in the restaurant. Well maybe a few, and they were all getting the Peking duck without fail... but everyone else was old, white, and presumably Republican. Hundreds of them, all eating quietly and mechanically and perusing the twelve page wine list (second p.s.: no self respecting Chinese restaurant has a twelve page wine list). It was like eating in a 60's sci-fi horror movie where you find out Soylent Green is made of people.

Anyway, so it was an 'experience', and we were glad we did it because now we know we never have to go back ever again! We will never have to wonder, as we drive merrily by on our way to Hong Kong Palace, if the Peking Gourmet place might offer better food. In fact, when we DID take my parents three weeks later, to Hong Kong Palace, in the middle of the Cherry Blossom Festival, the restaurant was so jam packed filled with out of town Chinese tourists who had presumably heard of the place word of mouth, that we waited over an hour and forty five minutes JUST for takeout. I mean it wasn't pleasant, but thankfully my parents deemed the food worth the wait, and y'know, got a bit of childhood/crazy Chinese people nostalgia in the process. I'm just really glad the intestine dish my mom originally ordered was out. Must've been popular for all those natives.

I know I might have asked before, but what are your favorite Chinese places and what are your favorite dishes? One day we'll have a huge outing/extravaganza. =D

Attention customers, may I have your attention please...

2010-03-17T08:48:00.006-04:00

Dear D.C. tourists and interns--

We native D.C. federal Metro commuters realize that your presence at the advent of nice weather is inevitable. Some of us might even welcome you; I'm sure you stimulate our local economy and I can't deny that your tax dollars are what fund my city and oh yeah, my paycheck. I do thank you for that. But please, a few words of advice as you descend upon our town, and more importantly, our public transportation system:

You are in a large city. We are all aware. There is no need to loudly declare this everywhere you go. Please especially try to refrain from commenting (loudly) how crowded the metro is and how "it's just like the in the movies!!!!!" This is our every day life. I suppose it could be like the movies, except the movies don't usually have large white pasty bloated sweaty people in them commenting how it's like the movies. Most of us have commutes over an hour, and most of us are also probably working alternate schedules, which put us in the office for 9.5 hours a day. We really appreciate quiet commutes. Really.
This goes without saying, but yes... walk on the left, stand on the right, people. In addition, when you reach the top/bottom of the escalator, STEP OFF AND MOVE AWAY. Do not stand indecisively at the end of the stairs and peer around, musing over where to go next. We're not intentionally trying to shove you (though we probably are gratified we are); it's just gravity and a machine pushing us into you.
This also goes for Metro doors. If you are sadly stuck standing without a seat, and are crammed next to a door, and that door happens to open at a stop, GET OFF THE METRO and get back on when people are done exiting. Do not stand fearfully in the middle of the doorway with your shoulders hunched thinking it's making you in the least bit less of an obnoxious doorstop.
For you large crowds of tourist groups, please do not congregate around the Metro gates and use that spot to obnoxiously shout your safety rules and when you're going to meet up and the color of your umbrella you'll be holding high up in the air. The Metro platforms are really spacious. Do that somewhere else and THEN you can swarm the gates all trying to shove your cards into the ones with the red minus signs.
A special note to the interns: congratulations on getting that lucrative unpaid summer position at [insert senator's name here] 's office. I'm sure it was competitive and difficult and I have no doubt that you are extremely bright and I have faith that you will contribute greatly to our country when you grow up. But really... nobody who actually lives here is impressed. There is no need to proudly (and emphatically) declare where you're working and drop names and how awesome you are and how lucky D.C. is to have you here. Did I mention your position was unpaid? Right.
On the flip side, however... don't be afraid. The Metro is not going to kill you. We understand most of you have never been on a public vehicle, or ever had to parallel park since your driver's test years ago, or ever had to actually PAY for a parking spot in general, and crowds are probably overwhelming. We have sympathy for those of you who clutch your children in vice-like grips, hissing at them when they step an inch away, afraid that they will be stolen away by strangers. Let me assuage you (though I should probably be more careful myself): I have worked approximately 1,350 days in D.C. That means I have ridden the metro at least 2700 times, plus more for school and weekends. I have never had anything stolen from me. I have fallen asleep countless times (despite repeated warnings) and never woken up in a dark alley or missing any organs, though once a homeless man screamed at me until I woke up and demanded money, to which I obviously did not comply. I have accidentally left my backpack unzipped with things practically falling out and never had anything taken. If anything, I've had more kind strangers tell me my bag's open or run after me with fallen items. I have, sadly, misplaced one library book, one ipod shuffle, and my car keys. The book and the shuffle were never found, but the car keys, which would have cost $300 to replace, miraculously made their way up to the Metro lost and found and I was gratefully reunited. If you are lost and confused, chances are there are 100 people on the Metro who can tell you where to go. If you ask nicely, just about anyone will help you. Really.

That being said... enjoy the city! This is a fantastic place to visit. There are a million things to do, countless landmarks to gawk at, and oh yeah... did I mention just about everything is free? And don't leave without dropping by Ben's Chili Bowl for a true D.C. experience... I mean, Obama ate there. :)

Sincerely,

Your D.C. Resident

P.S. Anyone else have comments to add?

My Final Masterpiece...

2010-02-06T09:17:00.004-05:00

Four weeks and eight hours later, I am officially a Wilton Class 1 Cake Decorating graduate. Hooray! Thanks Matt!!

PS Question for my professional cake decorating friends (and you know who you are): how do I keep my rose petals from cracking? And the bow was juvenile at best... any tips?

Other Crafty Endeavors

2010-01-25T09:37:00.007-05:00

So for Christmas my wonderful, loving, thoughtful husband bought me cake decorating lessons. Then during Christmas break he proposed that we start a "wellness challenge" that banned sweets and desserts for three months. Still wonderful, loving, and thoughtful? Definitely. Good at making appropriately timed decisions? Maybe not.

I lost the pictures to my first cake and am still debating if it's worth paying $50 for retrieval software to get them back. Meanwhile, here are some cupcakes and the third and final masterpiece will be created this Friday. It's ironic that I dominated the roses on my first try, yet for the life of me cannot master a simple scalloped edge. Blah.

I'm pretty proud of my roses... All those years of sculpey making are finally paying off! If you don't know what sculpey is you are clearly not nerdy enough. Please be proud. (as a disclaimer, I did not make the lovely green leaves which really 'make' the roses, my teacher did, as a nicety to me.)

I followed the cupcake decorator set box's directions on "pull out stars" on this one... not really sure what the effect was supposed to be... crazy electrocuted lots of frosting?

As you can see I got lazy with the amount of colors to use. I've realized that is more the issue with decorating than anything... all the lard, sugar, and mixing involved. I'm soooo glad Matt got me 100 disposable frosting bags so I don't have to wash them out every time. Thanks for the tip to my favorite Jen for that one!

My First Foray Into Entrepreneurialship...

2010-01-04T09:00:00.008-05:00

...and probably my last (and I don't think "entrepreneurialship" is a real word), but I thought I'd throw it up here for kicks. I don't usually 'advertise' or push any specific profitable causes, but I thought I would be remiss if I didn't advertise myself, on my own blog.

What started as last-minute Christmas gifts for extended family members turned into a "hey, this is fun!" and gave me something to do while I watch. a. lot. of. tv. And since I can only make so many cute hats for myself, friends and family before everyone is behatted, I thought I'd throw them into the homemade craft world and see how I fared. Hey, it was (almost) free to do, and mostly I just get a huge kick out of seeing my items for 'sale' like a real business person. Plus, I realize I have like, a two month window of selling opportunity before I become obsolete. Until then... enjoy! :)

Official Site

Update...

2009-11-02T15:51:00.012-05:00

I'm composing my entire blog post today around an excerpt from a book I read this morning. Whilst the bulk of this post's wit will depend entirely upon Bill Bryson and his astute renderings of self-awareness, I include it as the impetus for my last post's follow-up.

Whenever anyone's ever asked me "so why are you getting surgery? what for? Sleeping? Snoring? Why, is it bad?" I always stuttered and groped around for the proper description, somewhat embarrassed and flustered for the accurate depiction of why I got surgery.

If anyone ever asks me from now on, I will now respond, word for word, with the following:

"I am not, I regret to say, a discreet and fetching sleeper. Most people when they nod off look as if they could do with a blanket; I look as if I could do with medical attention. I sleep as if injected with a powerful experimental muscle relaxant. My legs fall open in a grotesque come-hither manner; my knuckles brush the floor. Whatever is inside - tongue, uvula, moist bubbles of intestinal air - decides to leak out. From time to time, like one of those nodding-duck toys, my head tips forward to empty a quart of so of viscous drool onto my lap, then falls back again to begin loading again with a noise like a toilet cistern filling.

And I snore, hugely and helplessly, like a cartoon character, with rubbery flapping lips and prolonged steam-valve exhalations. For long periods I grow unnaturally still, in a way that inclines onlookers to exchange glances and lean forward in concern, then dramatically I stiffen and, after a tantalizing pause, begin to bounce and jostle in a series of whole-body spasms of the sort that bring to mind an electric chair when the switch is thrown. Then I shriek once or twice in a piercing and effeminate manner and wake up to find that all motion within five hundred feet has stopped and all children under eight are clutching their mothers' hems. It is a terrible burden to bear."

This, my friends, is what I dealt with pretty much since I was about, oh, twelve. I know this from vehement and vigorous agreements from close family members and friends (many of whom have shaken me awake in the middle of the night to ask if I was dead) and also from the awe-struck stares I get from fellow passengers on the Metro when I've woken up from my daily post-work-commute-nap. I know I can't be attractive; I always wake up with my mouth hanging as wide open as humanly possible, usually with drool, and my neck arched back in a manner like unto the velociraptor skeletons from Jurassic Park who fossilized in improbably and extremely uncomfortable looking positions. I can only imagine the volume of my snoring.

I knew that I most likely had sleep apnea, but it had to be scientifically proven, so I voluntarily subjected myself to the following sleep studies:

After which it was determined that I could either spend the rest of my life wearing a full-face Darth Vader mask that shoved so much air into my nose and mouth that my respiratory system involuntarily shut down, or get surgery to remove parts of the back of my throat and tongue to increase breathing. Or... snore for the rest of my life and continue to fall asleep while driving and in boring meetings.

I'll spare the photos of my mouth (trust me... it was gross) but suffice to say that while I still may sleep with my mouth wide open and vast quantities of drool, at least the snoring has stopped. Huzzah!

Facial Carnage...

2009-08-19T12:22:00.005-04:00

So in a stroke of mandibular synchronicity, "Mr. Keng" is getting all four of his wisdom teeth ripped out of his face this coming Friday. I myself have a scheduled "UPPP (otherwise known as a Uvulopalatopharyngoplasty)/tonsillectomy/something else whose official name eludes my memory" for the 28th of September. Basically the end result is that both Mr. Keng and I will have extremely painful oral recoveries with limited food consumptions.

Fortunately, as we are not getting our surgeries at the *exact* same time, we will have time to feed each other mushy tasteless and chew-less food for weeks!!! I'm making up a list of foods, but I want to get your feedback: what should we stock up on tonight on our trip to the grocery store??

Food Tragedies...

2009-08-05T10:30:00.002-04:00

I know we've all them: those tragic moments in life where you're gleefully anticipating the satisfaction of some particular something, something you've looked forward to, something you think *finally! I'm about to be truly satisfied!* only to have your bubble of potential euphoria burst with reality, mistakes on your end and theirs, and for lack of better expression, "BOOOOOOOOOOOO...."

Today I relate three instances of such disappointments, all food-related (because really, my life revolves around food, which all human lives should) and all within the past month. These have also all been due to my ever-continuing attempts at eating "healthier"... clearly I should just give up and succumb to a life of morbid obesity. In sequential order:

1) Wendy's Spicy Chicken Sandwich... the most glorious, euphoric item Wendy's offers on their menu. I'd been abstaining for nearly a year now because hello, it's a deep fried chicken cutlet smothered in mayonnaise. Every time we drive from D.C. to Rochester and back, we stop at Wendy's for something to eat (it's the only drive through we both like) and every time Matt orders one, and every time I have to tell myself, "no spicy chicken sandwich, it's bad for you."

Well, this past July we were driving past Wendy's for the nth time, and I had been restraining for so long, I finally caved in. So we ordered TWO spicy chicken sandwiches (mine without mayonnaise though), they gave us our food, we sped away, I merrily tore open the fake foil, sunk my teeth into the fried chicken... no spice. No taste. In fact, it was the blandest piece of fried chicken I've ever consumed. Well okay, it had *some* taste, but apparently they had given us two "Homestyle" chicken sandwiches instead of spicy. Matt claims his was "less spicy than usual" but was later finally forced to concede that they had made a mistake. As we drove by another Wendy's literally minutes later, he offered to drive in and return it, or demand a new one, but I had already morosely finished my homestyle sandwich and now could really not justify a spicy one.

Do you KNOW how awful a Homestyle chicken sandwich is, especially without mayonnaise, and on TOP of expecting a spicy beautiful mouth-watering crispy heaven? Torture I tell you. Extreme let-down. Do I have to wait another year before consuming again?

2) Low-fat Granola SUCKS.

I have a pretty boring work-breakfast regime. It's altered between oatmeal and granola-with-yogurt for the last five years. I have tried every single grocery-shelf granola out there, and recently discovered my absolute favorite: Quaker Natural Granola: Oats, Honey and Raisins. It's delicious. It stays satisfyingly crunchy in milk, not so much that it hurts the roof of your mouth, but enough so that you're not eating mush by the end. It's positively magical.

The problem is, hardly any store sells it. I have the hardest time finding it, mostly because there are like forty different grocery chains out here and they all carry different things. Every time I go to Wegmans they sell a teeeeeeny box for $5 that I grab but bemoan the absence of the large hearty boxes. I try other granola brands, only to be disappointed by their cardboard taste. I have several boxes of substandard granola slowly fossilizing in my office cubby.

Two weeks ago I was at Safeway and voila! Large boxes of my favorite granola! Glorious glorious day! As I swooped in to grab one, my eyes lit on the "low-fat" version of my mecca. Oh what the heck, I thought, switching boxes and putting that in my cart instead... it's gotta be delicious too right? It's just the healthier version, right?

WRONG. It is the most foul, disgusting granola of ALL the discarded granolas I have ever tasted. It tastes like little cardboard pellets mixed with crunchy cardboard flakes. It is vile and yucky and to add insult to injury, when I went back to Safeway and out of indignation grabbed the regular kind, and compared their nutritional value, they pack the same number of calories in each serving! The low-fat version just pumps theirs with sugar to account for lack of EVERYTHING ELSE. Lesson learned... low-fat provides no additional nutritional value whatsoever.

3) Greasy Chinese food. Let me preface with the statement that I have an *extremely* high tolerance for crappy Chinese food, and my husband, if possible (and probable), an even higher tolerance. We really can eat just about anything. Both of us had been very good about abstaining from crappy food, so for about a week we had been discussing having a "greasy Chinese food night", planning the date of said night, and where we would go.

Given that there is a crappy Chinese food restaurant about every three blocks in Alexandria, we thought we'd try the one just down the street from us. What the heck, all Chinese places are about the same middling-level of MSG-infused garlic heaven, right?

No.

Whatever you do, stay away from the Lucky Dragon or Kung-Fu-Hustle or whatever that place is in the Bradlee Shopping Center on King St. It was literally inedible. The green beans, while satisfactorily cooked to a tender crisp, were smothered in a positively alarming viscous neon-orange sweet-weird goo. Our "three-meat-special" or whatever it was we ordered that was supposed to involve chicken, eggplant and beef, was deep fried to the point where we could not tell one item from another, soggy-crisp, and also smothered in a dark brown viscous weird goo. We only ate part of it, Matt insisting that he would eat the leftovers, but as we were driving home even he was forced to concede "okay... you should probably throw that away." One greasy Chinese food glorious night, wasted... As my mom commented later when I shared our experience, "wow, it is very hard to cook that bad Chinese food!"

I should just stick to Panda Express from now on... at least it's dependably bad.

So I really could keep going... Matt reminded me of my "candied beef curry" fail this past Sunday (note: coconut cream does NOT substitute for coconut milk in curry recipes), or the cold Pizza Hut supreme delivered to our door just last night (those of you who know me know how rarely I eat pizza, Supreme being the only kind I tolerate and it was COLD!)... but I'll let you chime in now... what food disappointments have you had recently? The kind that make you shake your fist at the heavens and yell "nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.!!!!!!!!" You know what I'm talking about. :)

Being Married, Part 1...

2009-06-15T16:35:00.006-04:00

Things that you never expect to happen in your life but now do because you are eternally joined with someone else, whose actions now directly affect you...

Having the keys to your honeymoon condo flung into the sewer on the very first day in Maine. Luckily the good folks of Portland Maintenance are friendly and showed up within fifteen minutes to fish them out. Thank you, John Emerson. We owe you a card. I also owe a future blog post the pictures I took. :)

Hearing "Thank you, Ms. Keng. Thank you, Mr. Keng" at the Safeway check-out line as we bought groceries last night; since I paid, my name came up on the bill. I giggled and pointed a finger at "Mr. Keng" all the way to the car.

Mostly, it's saying the words "my husband" in an entitled manner that still feels awkward. I confess, however, that it's way easier to say "my husband" than "my fiance", because when you say you have a fiance, the entire world squeals in your behalf and starts bombarding you with questions about your upcoming wedding. For some reason they are now socially entitled to deep personal details of your intimate life. People will break social barriers for few things: fiances, babies, and pregnant women. I feel sorry for the much-molested pregnant women out there.

The best "my husband" line came yesterday. Our garbage disposal had been making a most alarming crunching sound whenever it was turned on, and much gingerly shoving our hands around had turned up no stray utensils or other metallic objects. I finally called maintenance to have them look at it. They called me promptly to tell me they were finished, which I found unusual since a note left on my counter usually suffices. The conversation went as follows:

"Hi, this is John, I've fixed your garbage disposal."

"Oh, that's fantastic, thank you so much. What was wrong with it? We couldn't find anything in there."

"Well, it's working just fine now. I just wanted to inform you that we pulled a bullet casing out of the disposal."

"WHAT??!??!?! WHY is there a bullet casing in my sink?!??!?!"

"I don't know ma'am, I was hoping you could tell me."

The conversation continued, he being infallibly polite, I being outraged, horrified, and flabbergasted as to why there were bullets in my apartment. Had someone broken in and shot guns off and then secretly disposed of them? Had former tenants been drug dealers and tried to get rid of imposing evidence? We had already been informed by UPS that according to their records on our neighborhood, there was "no way in hell" their delivery people would leave packages on our doorstep.

The maintenance man, understandably, was quite interested in what I did in my spare time, how long I had lived there, what behaviors might lead to me, the shady tenant, dumping bullet casings in my sink. I racked my brains, because logically, anything left in my sink from a previous tenant would have been found by now; clearly whatever foreign object must have been recently--

"OHHHHHHH. OHhhhhhhhh..... oh, he is in SO MUCH TROUBLE...."

"excuse me, ma'am?"

"My HUSBAND. He friggin brought back friggin bullet casings from friggin Africa and was washing them in the kitchen sink.... he must have dropped one in there without realizing..."

"Um. Okay, well I don't know about bullet casings from Africa, but... if you know where it came from, and it's harmless, then..."

"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGH. I'm so sorry."

Not as sorry as My Husband was when he found out what had happened. Of all the things... a freaking bullet casing, Husband. Seriously. I love you...! :P

I hold up my head in shame....

2009-04-07T08:46:00.003-04:00

I bought my first TV ad product today.

Yes, folks, all those infomercials you've seen, all those products you've mocked... I fell prey to a product and purchased it. I figured it would make a good blog entry. :) What can I say?

My Firefox opens to a multitude of pages every morning, and today I spotted an article on TV hair products and Glamour magazine's review. Recently having been exposed to the wonder of the Bumpit, as well as my friend's more recent purchase of several Snuggies, (step up, you know who you are), after reading Glamour's semi-positive review, I decided I'd throw caution to the wind and purchase... (drum roll please)... a set of EZCombs.

Yes. I was one of those poor unfortunate souls who wailed in pain every time I tried to clutch my thick, unruly head of hair up in a claw, whose hair fell loose and unkempt, who could not lean back while driving a car and beseeched the hair gods to provide me a cure. O hair gods, send me a product that keeps my hair stylish and secure whilst being able to lie in a beach chair and read books all day! EZComb, you are an answer to my prayers!

Fess up folks... what televised products have you purchased and how did they turn out???

Chickpeas or Spinach?

2009-03-31T14:53:00.004-04:00

In my time here in D.C. I've definitely experienced things I never have before, both for good and for bad. I confess that if/when I do leave, I will be a more impatient, less likely to say hello to random people on the street, much more likely to shove little old ladies out of the way on the street, and definitely a more road enraged citizen. Those things are definitely inspiration for me to move somewhere friendlier and quieter.

I have to say though, that one thing I cling to with tenacity and ferocity, is D.C.'s affinity towards all foods Afghan. Most people who visit don't have a very wide range of exposure to the beautiful kabob, or the delicious bread and other accouterments that accompany it. Just today I read an article where yet another magical kabob restaurant has opened close to where I live. Who wants to come with me????

I LOVE KABOBS!! Every time I read about another kabob place I have to go try it out. I remember my very first kabob experience at the aptly-named "Afghan Restaurant" on Route 1; I was surprised and disappointed at the dish that came out with a piece of bread the size of Florida, topped with chunks of meat. No veggies? No decoration? No garnish?

A few months later (still a D.C. novice at this point) I was on my way to meet someone for a guitar lesson, and on a whim decided to bring, as payment, takeout from the Kabob Palace, something for which he had very publicly professed ardent love. I didn't quite understand the obsession (especially with the chickpeas; I prefer spinach myself), but thought what the heck, one for him, one for me, and thus began my journey towards kabob fanaticism...

Since then, I've begun to crave it on a regular basis. Is it heresy that when I read the Kite Runner last summer for the first time, the one thing that struck me was the protagonist's description of his native kabobs and then I wanted to eat them the entire time I was reading?

Anyway, for you D.C. natives out there, which is your favorite kabob restaurant and why? Chickpeas or spinach? What out-of-the-place restaurant do you recommend? For you non-D.C.ers, come out and eat some. Now.

for a second I thought they would be telling my eugugoly...

2009-03-24T20:39:00.003-04:00

So I´m blogging from a tiny Internet cafe in the Dominican Republic, which is awesomeness in itself, and adventures with pictures will shortly follow, but a topic came up today that I had to ask the general public--

Have you ever fantasize about your own funeral and if you died, who would come?

Turns out a lot of people have. Don´t be shy, admit it. How have you imagined your funeral to be? Lots of grieving fans? Close friends and family? Happy music? Sentimental music? Tons of flowers? Donations given to great causes? Would you have a huge one because secretly you hope you´re popular enough to garner the masses? Or is your secret fear that nobody will show up, like the Great Gatsby of old?

Until then, I´ll be learning how to dance on the streets of Cabarete. Wish me luck!

Google suggestion FAIL

2009-02-10T13:07:00.001-05:00

For your afternoon entertainment...

No serious, try it. It really does suggest that.

"Folks in Washington don't seem to be able to handle things"

2009-02-03T09:40:00.002-05:00

I gotta say, I like our new president. He's already making fun of the natives. :)

I've lived through five D.C. winters now. Every year it's the same... November and December are deceptively warm, leading me to believe that I really do live in the south and that balmy winter weather makes up for the horrible summers. Then January hits, and that down coat I bought last year on after-Christmas clearance, and wear for one month of the year, comes in reeeeally handy. Everyone else can shiver and whine and complain, I'm toasty warm in my stay-puft marshmallow downy hermetically sealed goodness.

However, the advent of January always brings the most puzzling, and yes, most laughable D.C. tradition: the canceling of school over non-existent snow. I remember my very very first snow day in D.C. five years ago; people were threatening extreme weather and so, out of caution, they canceled all the schools the night before, and I believe they canceled work too. I was excited to see my first D.C. snowfall, and what kind of horrible blizzard would predicate such extreme measures. The next morning I hopped out of bed and peered out the window... nothing!! Not even one drop of frozen precipitation was falling from the sky!! What kind of city IS this??

In upstate New York, school was NEVER canceled, and especially not in my little town. In fact, one morning we awoke to two feet of heavily falling powder, turned on the radio and listened with quivering anticipation as they announced closing after closing... "Fairport, closed. Pittsford, closed. Irondequoit, closed. Penfield, closed. Actually... every school district in Rochester is closed except Brighton. Brighton, you still have to go to school." The agony. Another time the snow fell so heavily that they were forced to dismiss classes early, but since the snowplows hadn't actually gotten around yet to clearing the sidewalks, and I lived too close to school to justify a bus route by my house (but still about a mile away), I literally had to wade through thigh-high snowdrifts to find my way home. I will have my story to scold my children in the future!

But what I don't understand the most, what flummoxes me, is this particular D.C. quirk:

I don't get it...?? I mean, I guess I understand the principle behind it; it's easier to clear off your windows if your wipers aren't frozen to the shield. But I've never seen anyone in New York do it, where snow falls in droves. I've never seen anyone in Utah do it, where they boast the best snow on earth. So why D.C.? Are they really SO paranoid about snow that even a dusting on their wipers will render the entire city completely incapacitated?

Anyone? Anyone help me out with this please??

"Stress. It's a killer..."

2008-12-15T09:09:00.002-05:00

"My nephew Izzy just keeled over. And he was a fruit bat. No meat. No blood, even."

Stress comes on all the time, but something about the holidays almost mandates extra heaping portions of it. Don't get me wrong, the holidays are great. In fact, I've personally decided that the heathen gods who picked Christmas to fall in the middle of the dead winter did it to lift up our dreary spirits during this crappy weather time of year. At least, for us northern hemisphere dwellers anyway. It really is something to look forward to and is a happy time, hands down.

But nobody can deny that with jolly holidays comes the need to make the season jolly, the need to get thoughtful, appropriate, glee-inducing gifts for everyone on your list, and in my personal case, the annual "Jen-I-need-you-to-accompany-me-NOW" kerfuffle of Christmas music. But the music part is over now and all was well on that end.

I've decided that stress is like a game of Jenga. You've got your tower of things to do, and every additional item requires you to take a piece from your already existing mental and physical abilities and stack it on top. I had this revelation last night about my own stress-handling capabilities. Whenever I played Jenga, I was always cautious and took, for the most part, the middle pieces to keep it stable. If I *had* to take side pieces, I did it from the top and only after the base was stable. This was also usually because I, with my amazing coordination skills, tend to knock the tower over early. Other people (ahem ahem, my mom and sister) immediately went for the side pieces on the bottom and gleefully stacked and stacked away. They built their towers 36, 38 levels deep (from a base level of 16... yes, I'm that nerdy to give you stats on Jenga) and could balance an astonishing amount of precariously placed blocks without batting an eye.

Thus it is with your stress handling capabilities. Are you the type to be cautious because you know your "tipping point" is early? Or are you the type to stack and stack away because you have superior coordination skills and know your tower can climb to Everest-esque heights before it falls (read: you have a nervous breakdown?)

Until then, I'm going to straighten my tower and keep looking for blocks to take out...

"Intense Pleasure"...?

2008-11-20T13:17:00.006-05:00

An online conversation with my coworker mere moments ago:

Coworker's status message: "Why do they sell condoms at the new Census store?"

*Gchat excerpt*
me: they DO?!??!?!?!

that is awesome

Matt: yep.. "intense pleasure" ... hahaha.. might be the first time i've seen something at census that promised intense pleasure

me: holy freakin cow

i'm really tempted to post what you just said on my blog

Matt: feel free

that's a statement i'll stand behind

me: seriously

i'm doing it right now...

Matt: this conversation is might be the first thing i've derived intense pleasure from in suitland in quite a while... haha

life is a beautiful joke

*end excerpt*

Life really is beautiful sometimes. :)

Be not afraid...

2008-11-17T13:47:00.002-05:00

...gentle readers, it's still me underneath all this awesome pageantry of a brand new background. Let's face it, this new layout SCREAMS me, even down to the ridiculous three-stone diamond border that I didn't notice until someone pointed them out to me. I mean, really... would that all of life were this customizable...

One Post to Rule Them All...

2008-10-13T22:21:00.007-04:00

Well my friends, this may be the most widely publicized post of my blogging career, so I'd best make it a good one. I make a point not to tout intensely personal events on an open Internet forum (statistics classes and license plates don't count), but I do have to shamelessly utilize my trusty asiankeng domain once and for all for public consumption to finally tell the world... I Am Engaged To Be Married!

There, I said it.

That being said, with the multiple requests for The Story (aka How He Did It), I am finally publishing The Longest Post Ever (even surpassing Guster of yore) with all the nitty gritty details.

Many of you upon receiving the news shook your heads (as I had expected) and asked, "Jen's dating someone?!" For those, I assure you that I have not been keeping secrets or, as Fiance (Matt) says, "I'm your secret shame", and know that the diaspora of DC dating has trained me well to keep any romantic news to myself. It is a fascinating anthropological study to examine how, at the whiff of a 'dating' attachment, the general LDS single (and non-single) population of DC turns you into their personal tabloid, with entitlements to hourly updates on your trek towards eternal bliss and a subscription to your nuptual newsfeed. False rumors run amok and you spend more time disputing hearsay than actually dating. ("No, I'm not engaged." "No, I'm not pregnant." "No, he didn't propose to my cousin.") So, for those of you not in the know, please don't feel that I've purposely left you out. Not even those in my own professional office of four years knew I was seeing anyone.

By way of brief introduction, Matt is pretty much the coolest male in my age/dating bracket I've ever met. Graduate student of peace and conflict resolution (hello! No domestic arguments!), traveler to approximately 25 countries, speaker of Spanish AND Mandarin, non-picky eater of all foods (one of my requirements), lover of all people, shameless karaoke singer, and avid Latin dancer. Chops wood when he's stressed and ran his own radio show in college. Hot. :)

We've had a pretty normal, average relationship: met at church, spoke a few times, saw each other a few times at parties, blah blah. Started dating, started to like each other, enjoyed where it was going, some months down the line decided that marriage was an option, then decided that marriage was an optimal choice. So while the proposal was a complete shock, the idea of marriage was not, thankfully.

And finally, How He Did It:

We had gone up to Rochester on the weekend of October 3-5 with the specific intent for him to ask my father's permission for marriage. As it is a custom not familiar to Chinese people, I'd had to call my parents ahead of time and warn them/explain to them what Matt intended to do. My mother didn't quite understand why she couldn't be there (which we did tell her she could), but she promised to stay out of the way. Matt had prepared a little speech in Mandarin from his Chinese teacher in college and practiced it over and over. With brave heart he obtained permission from my father and approval from my mother, and that was that. I had always been convinced that he would propose sometime in November; he had told me on several occasions that he didn't have a ring, he had to take out a loan, he hadn't found the perfect one... lies! All lies!! But I suppose acceptable in this one circumstance.

I suppose we did things a little backwards; we spent the weekend reserving a time in the temple to be married, we met with a photographer, we scoured Rochester for reception sites. Sunday afternoon as we headed home we decided to stop at beautiful Letchworth Park, a NY State park 35 miles south of Rochester. As we traipsed about taking pictures, Matt insisted we get one of ourselves. I said "sure, well why don't we just ask one of these fifteen people milling about to take one?" "no no, let's set up our tripod." "Okay, perfect, we can use this remote control shutter I bought!" "no no, let's set the self timer." "...okay, well, we've got 2 seconds, 5 seconds... 2 seconds should be enough time, right?" "no no, 5 seconds is good, let's do 5 seconds."

At this point I think I remember being a little confused at his insistence of doing things apart from how we'd normally go about it, but I also figured that since he doesn't usually insist on these types of things (that's normally my job) that it wouldn't hurt to indulge him. He stood in the shot for me to set it up, I set the timer, dashed over to the wall, grinned at the camera... and then this photo was taken:

Yes my friends, as I was still posing for the camera (as evidenced by my big cheesy grin) he dropped to one knee and blurted out "Will you marry me?!" and then the camera went off. He claims he said something else but he doesn't remember, neither do I believe him since he had about 2.1 seconds to pull it off. These were the thoughts going through my head:

"What's he doing? Is that a ring? What? Is this an engagement ring?? But he said he didn't have one! Did he borrow one? Is he being serious? I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S DOING THIS IN FRONT OF ALL THESE PEOPLE...."

It took him several times proposing (he got pretty good at it) before I could compose myself enough to say yes, much to the delight of the watching audience, who clapped and oohed and aahed and took pictures and basically mortified me... but oh well, I'm engaged, deal. :)

And that is The Story. The end.

More pictures of the weekend can be seen here. Pictures of The Precious can be seen here. Questions, comments, praise on Matt's ingenious proposal can be left on comments sections below.

Thank you for all of the congratulations and support I (we) have received and we really are excited to have you share in this very happy time with us!

Citius, Altius, Fortius

2008-08-08T10:09:00.003-04:00

Once every four years the world comes together and, under the guise of international unification, competes over a period of two weeks in the name of "Faster, Higher, Stronger." While recent politics have tarnished the upcoming Olympic Games (as well as the pollution), I will refrain from any political commentary... mostly because you all know I am far too under-informed to be capable of it.

I will publicly state (and this is my first political opinion... EVER) that I fully support President Bush's appearance at the Games, despite angry outbursts to the contrary, because I feel that the purpose of the Olympics is for everyone to "get along" for two weeks, regardless of any potential shortcomings of the host, the hostee, etc. It is not the athletes' fault that the host country of the Olympics is censoring Internet usage, or violated human rights, and I completely agree that these things are indeed serious, serious issues. Ironically, being intimately familiar with Chinese culture and customs, I see the double standard the Chinese government is setting in simultaneously setting unreasonable policies (as well as their non-Olympic related actions) but yet expecting everyone to be outwardly polite and courteous when "company" is over. In that vein, I feel that our nation's president is saving China's face by showing up, not to mention respecting our American athletes by publicly supporting them. What kind of face could we, as Americans, put on if our own leader didn't support our athletes at the most prestigious event they'll ever compete in? The point of the Olympics is to get together and play, and then after two weeks, then can we go home and resume arguing again? It's all we've ever done anyway, let's just take a temporary break and watch some pretty people run and swim.

And thus ends any and all of my semi-political rant. :P

Back to warm fuzzy unification... I have always been more of a Winter Olympic fan, given my ardent passion for figure skating (yes, I have the signatures of all the 1992 Olympic skaters... Elvis Stojko, Philippe Candeloro, anyone? Anyone?) but I became an enthusiastic supporter of summer sports in 2000, when my trampoline injury rendered me completely incapacitated and bedridden for months, and my only option on my 5-channel TV in my room was to watch the Sydney games. (Speaking of trampoline, didn't they introduce that as an official Olympic sport... what happened to it?) The Olympics are one of those interesting events that make instant international celebrities of its participants, only to have them fade completely away from the public eye, until the next Olympics foists fame upon them once again.

Case in point: Michael Phelps. He was the darling of the 2004 games, winning six gold and two bronze medals and his own street in Baltimore (I almost attended that parade... ALMOST.) Then what happened to him? Not much that I can recall... a DUI shortly afterwards, maybe an AT&T endorsement? But now he's back with a vengeance (and a... Fu Manchu mustache...?) and ready and poised to rivet the attention of every human being on this planet with access to a TV, computer, phone, or radio. I'm admitting he's my personal favorite for these games (lerpy AND world domination? Bring it on!) and his 23 years makes it much more acceptable for me to publicly declare a crush than it was when he was only 19. :)

But friends, who have been your favorite Olympic athletes? Your favorite Olympic moment? I clearly remember being in 8th grade and having my math teacher run into my English class screaming "DAN JANSEN FINALLY WON!!!" and watching his victory lap that night on television as he dedicated his medal to his late sister, while Mariah Carey's "Hero" played in the background. Oh, I tear up a little just thinking about it now. I remember the beauty of Gordeeva and Grinkov's long routine in 1994, shortly before Grinkov tragically passed away at the age of 28 from a heart attack. I remember the thrilling moment Kerri Strug landed her final vault, thus winning the women's gymnastics for the United States in 1996. The thrill, beauty, and impressive endurance and tenacity of the human body and the limits to which it can be pushed are what make the Olympics memorable for me.

So share and share alike... what do you love most about the Olympics?

I owe you one raunchy strip tease...

2008-07-18T09:02:00.005-04:00

I'm sure we all have them... those random encounters with members of the opposite (or same) sex that leave you flattered, highly amused, baffled, or just completely grossed/creeped out. Whether we're single or 'taken', married or not, somehow, at least for females, the guys seem to hit first and ask questions later.

Two such incidents in a three-day period have spurred this entry. My "approached by a random male" rate averages two a year, so this statistically significant occurrence inspired today's post.

The first incident was Tuesday night; while driving home from visiting a friend, I noticed I was being tailed by a police car. The only thing more nerve-wracking than being pulled over by a police car is being tailed by a police car, so I switched lanes over and slowed down, hoping he/she would pass. The car remained obstinately behind me in my blind spot, to the point where I was driving 25 mph in a 35 zone and I was starting to get irritated/nervous. My brake lights both worked, to my knowledge, and my registration didn't expire for another two weeks... what was up?

At the stoplight the car pulled up on my left and I looked over, checking for any signs from the cop of any driving infractions. By the time I identified his head in the darkness of it being 11:45 pm, I realized that he was grinning and waving madly. He then rolled down his passenger side window. Ummmm.... well it didn't appear that I was breaking any laws, but at the same time I really didn't want to make small talk with a policeman. On the other hand, was it a civic offense NOT to speak to a law enforcement officer when they were clearly demanding your attention? For fear of being charged for some law I didn't know existed, I rolled down my window as well. He then leaned over and shouted "I like your license plate!!" Umm... immensely relieved that I hadn't broken any laws, I said thanks, to which he replied, "is it for your husband??"

Aaaaaawgh. My emotions ran from nervous/irritated/concerned/relieved/happy/disgusted in a matter of about three seconds. Seriously? You just pulled the "husband" line? You, a keeper of the peace, an enforcer of justice?? As my roommate exclaimed as we were driving away, "you should be ashamed of yourself!!" This one ranks as highly amusing though. Mostly because there were two of us in the car.

The second encounter was merely creepy; the guy approached me while waiting for the Metro yesterday after work and used such lines as "you look just like a girl I used to go with when I was stationed in Bangkok. You Thai? Definitely Southern Asia." Yeah no. Not Southern Asia. He was probably about 50 years old and was commenting on how I looked like I could be in high school. Creeeeeeeeepy. But he also pulled the "your husband must be a lucky man". I mean really. Can you be more subtle about it? Does that line ever actually work? Are you truly looking for companionship based on approaching a creature you've never seen before and making the assumption that I am a normal, socially adept female with no serious mental, physical, or emotional issues? I guess my definition of "relationship" falls into a much different range than some males out there.

So folks, I know you have them. What's your funniest/creepiest/best story of a random encounter of the weird kind?

Flames... flames, on the sides of my face...

2008-07-07T12:03:00.005-04:00

Awight folks. Today, I'm just going to let it all out. If you care to read, please read, if not, please at least feel free to join me in the comments in sharing your own rants. We all have them and here I am blatantly using my personal little bubble here in cyberspace as a forum to share and share alike.

Rant 1: Graduation
So remember how I was all excited to graduate? I had finally slogged my way through my last classes, cranking out 25 page research papers even as strep throat ravaged my body and personal issues took a much higher precedence. I didn't attend my university's graduation ceremony because I'd had three out of town travel plans in the month of May and I honestly had no desire to attend. I'd dutifully filled out all four stages of "prepare to graduate" forms and writing samples and work experiences, at one point was officially booted off the list because my advisor failed to submit a form on time, and nearly drowned from the mountain of paperwork.

Finally the day came; a brief ceremony was held at the Census Bureau, I got nifty little paperweights with my name engraved from the university... but no diploma. When I called to inquire, they said I'd never filled out a form to transfer credits from classes I'd taken prior to 'officially' enrolling in the program. Nobody ever told me about *this* form... my credits were listed on my transcript and factored into my GPA, why did I need to fill out a separate form? Okay, fine. Filled out, submitted.

Still no diploma.

Finally after multiple inquiries in my own department, I took to calling the graduate admissions office myself. The woman who I was *finally* transferred to sounded confused and told me to call her back next week. That was the last time I spoke to her. Since then I have reached an answering machine with the maddeningly long, slow message that "due to the high volume of calls, I am unable to take your call right now..." (it's JULY?? Who's calling in July??) that would not originally let me leave a message because it was full. I plan on calling multiple times this week until I reach a human being. Why is it so hard to just graduate, for crying out loud? Prime example of the federal government red tape and advanced educational bureaucracy at work.

Rant 2: Car Insurance
My most recent car insurance policy had me listed as a 25-28 year old male. Last time I checked I'm pretty sure I was a girl. I called them to rectify the situation; the woman said she'd fix it immediately and call me right back. She never did. A week later I finally called again and when she answered, said "oh yeah, I spoke to you. I fixed the problem." Hello...? What happened to "...and I'll call you right back?" Grrrr. Not to mention "But it's going to take a long time to get fully processed because the underwriters need to figure out how far back your policy has had you stated as a male..." Um. Well I've only had your insurance for one year. It shouldn't have to be an archaeological dig.

Rant 3: Vehicle registration renewal and the Crappy DMV System
I got a nice letter/form in the mail reminding me my vehicle registration was due. Enclosed was an additional letter stating if I tried to do it in person I'd be charged an extra $5 because they don't want people waiting in line all day at the DMV, it "stresses their resources and creates extra fees for VA residents." I don't understand that but whatever, if they don't want me there, I sure don't want to be there. It looks like I can save $1 by registering online. Yay! So I go online and it asks, "is your residence address correct?" No, it is not. "To correct this address, you must have a PIN." Oh, okay. Well my last PIN expired. How do I get a new one? "Enter your social security number and driver's license number and a new PIN will be mailed to the address we have on record." But the address you have on record is incorrect. Which is why I'm here. And I distinctly remember reading somewhere along the line that official documents, such as DMV records, do not get forwarded to new mailing addresses. You have to officially change your address on record with the DMV to receive mail at your new address. Which you can do online. With a PIN that can only be mailed to your old address.

GAH!!!

Okay folks, let's hear it. What's your most frustrating, hair tearing, flame-licking bureaucratic experience with life?

Legend Tells of a Legendary Warrior...

2008-06-25T09:55:00.003-04:00

If you haven't seen Kung Fu Panda yet, please do yourself the favor and go. It was delightful and my roommates haven't stopped quoting it since.

My original delight in seeing the movie (Jack Black aside) was the prospect of seeing some of my favorite Asian people as kung fu masters... well, mostly just Jackie Chan as a kung fu monkey (though his lines were sadly lacking... "We should hang out." "Agreed.") And Lucy Liu made a fairly convincing devilish snake of a fighter. Jack Black did rock though.

The movie consequently spurred the conversation of, "if you could be embodied as any sort of animal, what would you be?" Some people just favor certain creatures. Some of you dear readers may, with fondness, recall a certain duck-billed platypus of old, or even my treasured roommate who pulled the most convincing ostrich impression I've ever seen. Someone once told me that I was a total panda bear, but I'd prefer to think that it was the Asian stereotype rather than actually resembling a black and white bear.

What about you? If you had to be embodied as any animal, what would it be? There are a flotilla of quizzes out there that you can take; this one labels me as either an owl or a wild dog...?? I'm not feral, nor do I speak with a slow, wise voice... this one labels me (perhaps correctly) as a monkey. Take any of them yourself and see if you agree with the results. Personally I think my little sister is the embodiment of a rhesus monkey. That is all. :)

The Shackles of Scholarly Servitude Slacken...

2008-05-09T19:19:00.003-04:00

I take pride in tonight's post in that it is the final and utterly last one I will ever make solely in response to procrastinating on a homework assignment. The graduate degree looms in the ever-so-increasingly-closer future and the finish line is in sight... only one 25-page paper on Gender, Work and Family (really should be re-labeled as Feminism and Why Women Are Gypped in the Workplace) stands between me and scholastic freeeeeedom!!!

Never again will I have to write a statistical analysis about detailed food consumption and exercise over three days, or nonresponse in quarterly surveys, or longitudinal data on systolic blood pressures... never again will I have to run general linear mixed models, or impute missing data using cyclic n-partition nearest-neighbor hot deck methods.

One thing I have firmly, irrevocably, absolutely, finally learned from this scholastic experience: I am SO not meant to be a statistician. Sadly, I still don't know what I am meant to be, but the plan is still to find a job in sunny California working for some happy company. This fact of I-am-not-meant-to-be-a-statistician was forcibly brought to my attention last semester, when I stumbled across the infamous Jung-Myers-Briggs personality test that groups people into four categories: Idealists, Rationals, Guardians, and Artisans. I took it and was labeled as an ESFJ, a Provider Guardian. I think I can confidently state I am indeed an 'outstanding hostess' who ensures the comfort and happiness of large groups of people.

Curious, I sent out the test to a few of my statistician classmates. They leaped on the personality classifier with the ferocity of feral dogs and within the course of 24 hours, almost all of my classmates had taken the test. Their results were markedly different from mine: Field marshals, Masterminds, Inspectors... all of them tailored exclusively to work in such institutional, detailed, analytical careers in the federal government such as they were currently happily employed. I, on the other hand, am floating in a career that I have realized, ironically on the other side of an undergraduate and graduate degree, that is completely unsuited to my personality. My question is, how have I survived so long?

That is a question I will address after this 25 page paper is over, but until then, I know that many of you took this test before when I posted it online, but take it again and see how you fare. Are you what you thought you were, and if so, are you in the right place best suited for your supposed personality? And if not, what's your ideal place to be? Let's face our uncertain futures together, and until then, who wants to go skydiving with me?!??!?!??!

You poor simple fools. Thinking you could defeat me, me! The Mistress of All Evil!

2008-03-11T21:10:00.000-04:00

So yeah. When homework calls me to repentance, I often find myself doing the most amazing things to get out of it. Like emptying the dishwasher. And blogging.

This post was started about two months ago and has been sitting, idle, stale, stagnant in my draft box. But desperate times (ie, two drafts of large statistically-minded papers due tomorrow) call for desperate measures and suddenly I am struck with an insatiable urge to pontificate.

This blog topic was originally started with a discussion on "vices". Seeing as the two of us are LDS and the restrictions on 'naughty' things loom large, our rants were really quite tame: "I'd drink coffee!" "I'd wear tank tops!" Which then degenerated to, "I'd have sex!" "I'd wear skanky clothes around the house... which would probably lead to sex..." "but if you're married that's totally okay..." which spiraled into a quite boring conversation, because we realized that a large bulk of our so-called restraints are really fine after legal wedded bliss, the social ramifications of such connubial implications I will not delve into at this time.

I concluded that thread of thought with the comment, "Well really, are we saying, what would we do if we weren't Mormon, or what would we do if we had no morals at all? Because if I had no morals then I'd be a mafia drug lord. And I'd be a really good one, too." Our discussion jump-sparked into the wondrous world of villains and it was determined that I would have to blog about this at some future point. That future point was probably some time late last year; meanwhile, said friend has gotten married so go ahead friend, you wear those skanky tank tops around the house.

Back at the ranch, my declaration of moral-less mafia lord was verified last week when our landlord, legally late in returning our deposit (grrrrr), was avoiding our calls once again, and my roommates were musing on how best to convince him to pay us back. My immediate and nonchalant response of "kidnap his little boy" was met with blinks, awkward silence, and a token "um, how about something not completely illegal? And wrong???" "What? It would get us our money back."

Anyway, I completely rest my case that I would make the best mafia lord ever. So my friends, I now pose the question to you: if you could be any sort of villain out there (movie character, archetype, cartoon, you name it), what/who would you be and why do you claim that persona fits you? If I could somehow meld "mafia lord" with "Maleficent" from Sleeping Beauty (my favorite villain of allllll time), it would be the perfect me. Evil, sinister, purple dragon... and totally hot. What more could I ask for??!

I've gone and caught myself a sniffle!

2008-02-14T13:46:00.004-05:00

Friends, so I have fifteen minutes to throw this together before I leave for class, but thanks to Shark, my Valentine's Day is COMPLETELY MADE and I am quivering with joy. Please. Homage.

Now that you too are brushing tears of excitement and anticipation from your eyes, it's almost a veritable Pandora's Box when I ask you: what's your favorite Indiana Jones quote/scene?!!??!?!

2008: Year of the firsts!!

2008-01-08T10:37:00.002-05:00

Happy new year to all! As much as I've attempted to embrace odd numbers, and especially prime ones, I still have to say that whatever weird freakish part of my brain it is, feels comfort and ease in the nicely divisible 2008. Not to mention it's my year for 28, a perfect number (thanks, Warren) which is 2008 without the two big fat null placeholders inbetween, as well as the ten year anniversary of my high school graduation, the year I will graduate with my master's degree, the year my sister is getting married, etc etc etc. Really, I postulate that 2008 will be the best year all around.

Having said that, I would like to make 2008 the year in which I do all the "DC" things I've always wanted, but have never gotten around to. Suppose that 2008 was your last year in the "DC" area, and that next year you were to move to, say, the west coast, in the which case all the east coast "DC"-esque activities would no longer be as accessible. Suppose that you only had this limited time to take advantage of the relative proximity of everything the east coast has to offer. What would you do? What haven't you done yet that you've 'always wanted to'? Now is the time!!

I realize my blog has gotten quite list-y lately (better than listless though, right?) but I really do want to make this a good one, as 12 months seems to fly by faster and faster with every passing year. With limited years of "no responsibility and relatively stable income", I want to take every advantage I can. All, of course, are invited to any and every excursion I take.

Spend a day in the National Arboretum
Visit the Baltimore Aquarium
Attend a performance in Ford's Theatre
Bike the national sites at night
Eat a cupcake from the infamous Magnolia Bakery in NYC
See the Rockefeller Christmas tree
Visit North/South Carolina and experience Southern hospitality (it's there, right?)
Finally attend the Cherry Blossom Parade
Visit Arlington Cemetery on a national holiday (or at all. Yes, gasp if you must, but I still haven't taken an official tour)
Find the Darth Vader gargoyle on the National Cathedral
Go to Boston. I know, I passed up an invitation already. Can we make it NOT in January when it's cold and freezing?
Eat a real Philly cheesesteak

Okay friends. I need your input and suggestions so that, supposing I were to leave the area within the next year, I don't have any regrets of "I should have..." I never got a chance to see the Redwoods when I left California and I owe them a big debt.

The World According to Asiankeng...

2007-12-31T12:09:00.000-05:00

By popular demand, I have returned!! All two of you faithful blog-readers clamoring for more mindless drivel, prepare to be completely underwhelmed by my last blog offering of 2007.

On direct recommendation from the one plea I requested (thanks, bdurham) I hereby present to you the most warped view of this past year. My head has been stuck in the sand of statistics so I apologize for any events I may have overlooked. Therefore, without further ado and in no particular order, I give you AsianKeng's Top Highlights of 2007:

The passing of opera legend, Luciano Pavoratti. May his voice soar with the angels. Vincero!!
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Snape exonerated, Ron and Hermione consummated, and nineteen years later with children named Rose and HUGO? We will miss you, Harry.
Facebook. Countless hours of my life, gone. Join if you dare. But a veritable analyst's treasure cove? You decide.
Gmail Group Chat. And Google text. I revere you, Google.
Guitar Hero. Nuff said.
Once and its soundtrack and everything associated with it.
Philanthropists and logophiles, unite! Donate rice to the needy with your vocabulary.
And although I'm not ranking here, I view this as so fantastically wonderful that I feel all of you need to take a 3 minute 57 second break and just revel with me in the joys that make life happy.

Forgive the relative brevity, but it's taking my brain a bit of time to get back on it's creative blogging, um... spinal cord tenacula...? So help me out here... what were YOUR favorite moments of 2007??

*A serious note could not overlook the tragedies and heroic moments of the year as well... for those of you who lost loved ones or gained new ones, my heart goes out to all of you and best of wishes for a Forthcoming Fabulous 2008!

Show me that smile again...

2007-11-14T22:42:00.000-05:00

I know that using school is a lame excuse for not writing in months, but truly it was a valid one in this case. 5 classes and 13 credits later I have almost survived (but don't count all the eggs just yet) and am entering the home stretch until I have garnered the official title of Master. Which I shall graciously allow you to call me on any given occasion.

A few weeks ago as my nerdy school friends and I were participating in our usual "this is how much school sucks" tirade, one mentioned that she was planning on going skydiving as a reward for graduating next spring. I was more than willing to jump (ha. humor me) on that bandwagon, and a tentative date has been set for May 2008. Any and everyone is welcome to join. The discussion then moved onto shooting, and as that is also something I have not yet experienced, I have now traded Chinese dumplings for shooting lessons with another grad school friend.

This train of thought brought me back to an episode of one of my favorite shows in the whole wide world. A moment down memory lane, please:

Yes. I know. Tears welled up in my eyes too. It's okay. Unfortunately I couldn't find the intro with Leonardo DiCaprio but this one's almost as good.

Anyway, one episode involved the mom (Maggie!) discovering an old list of things she'd wanted to do before she died and her regret that the only one she could cross off was learning to drive a stick. So she went skydiving and rappelling... and I can't remember the rest of the episode. The point is, I've decided that I, too, need to make up a "Things to Do Before I Die" list. This is outside of, but not wholly mutually independent of a previous list of "Places to Visit Before I Die."

So, in no particular order:

THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE

Skydiving (incidentally, these items do not also necessarily lead to a higher risk of death... it just happens to be rather coincidental)
Shooting. Preferably learning how to aim sideways like the cool action stars do.
Yes, learning how to drive a stick. I still don't know.
Spelunking. The name says it all.
Salsa dancing in Greece. I'm thinking for my birthday. Who's in?
Road trip across the country. Preferably me, my car, moving to California.
Learn Italian
Pilgrimage to Mecca during Hajj (again, not looking to die necessarily, but an inevitable byproduct)
Running with the bulls in Pamplona... or at least, just watching the running of the bulls from a safe balcony vantage point
Play the Tabernacle organ in Salt Lake City.
Pay homage to my ancestors in China. (Preceded by step one: find my ancestors in China)
Learn kickboxing.
Graduate from graduate school. Hey, at least I can check one thing off the list...

Awight folks. I know a lot of you are in school; what's your graduation present to yourself? And what things do the rest of you want to do before you die? Or, if you could die in a fantastically grandiose way... what would it be? :)

You know you're a DC (area) native when...

2007-09-21T00:15:00.002-04:00

you find yourself shoving little old ladies out of the way to get on the metro first
you look for every excuse NOT to be on the Mall on July 4th.
you start frantically buying bottled water and kerosene like everyone else when they announce the possibility of a snowstorm
you see two drops of rain in the morning and think "oh great, there goes my commute"
you studiously ignore all attempts of strangers to be friendly and snarl at them in return
you find yourself arranging your errands and trips to fall outside of the 2-7 pm "rush hour"
you calculate 40 minutes of driving time for a five mile excursion into the city
you avoid driving behind taxis at all costs, because here they drive like turtles
you think nothing of buying your groceries at twelve different stores (or maybe that's just how life is, and my growing up with one-stop shopping at Wegmans is the anomaly)
all the Asians you see are not Chinese
you get annoyed when places of interest in other cities require monetary admission
you experience extreme physical withdrawal when you travel without your iPod earphones plugged firmly into your head
you live in one state, commute to work in another, and yet claim residency in a third ("Where are you from? DC" "Where do you live? Virginia." "Where do you work? Maryland.")
your refrigerator breaks for a month and you don't even scratch the surface of available ethnic dining establishments in your area
you don't bat an eye at "single family housing starting at $2.2 million" and think it's a reasonable price for a house
you're shocked when customer service is cordial to you, or speaks English natively
you've gotten a parking ticket for every banal possible reason out there
you watch a sitcom that supposedly depicts a humorous attempt at "government red tape" but you don't find it remotely amusing since that is your every day routine
you finally understand the term "red tape"

Okay folks. Those are just my own. I KNOW you've got oodles and oodles to share. Fess up!

Graced by David Jacobus...

2007-09-11T09:22:00.000-04:00

This morning I received a comment on a post that I had written over a year and half ago. Some posts are better than others; this one remains a favorite solely for the link that makes it great. Scroll to the bottom to read the latest comment... O, the kismet, the fortuitousness, yea, the very serendipity that brings the world together!!

David Jacobus, can we be friends? I promise I'm pretty normal and I won't stalk you. In fact, we could join up over Facebook or something and then we'd never even have to contact each other again... we can be friends without benefits.

Would you rather...

2007-08-28T10:31:00.000-04:00

New favorite words, part 2! The best words are those that have more than one definition, and the bestest words the ones that have completely dichotomous definitions at that.

A few sample conversations:

(At a bar in DC, referring to a beer that wasn't mine)
Me: "Wow, that's impressive; the head of that beer is perfectly drawn. Not a drop spilled."
Bartender: "Yeah, gotta watch out for that meniscus, y'know."
Me: "Meniscus? Beers have meniscuses? I had mine removed from my knee in 2000..."
Matt-the-beer-drinker: "Naw, like in graduated cylinders in high school, remember? You gotta always be careful to measure the bottom of the meniscus..."

(Online with my sympathetic home teacher bemoaning the loss of my iPod)
MF: "...well, good luck with that."
Me: "shanks"
MF: "Those are deadly weapons made out of normal objects"
Me: "What? iPods?"
MF: "No, shanks."
Me: "I thought shanks were large thighs of pigs."
*looks up definition of shanks*
"Oh look! They mean both!"
MF: "awesome." *signs off*

(with a fellow Vocabulary Jouster)
Me: "Well I shall have to ruminate upon the definition of that one..."
VJ: "What? You're going to go chew on a cud?"
Me: "No... ruminate. You know, ponder?"
VJ: "No, the definition of ruminate is DEFINITELY to chew on a cud! Like a cow!"
Me: "Dude, it's totally to 'think deeply upon'. Who chews a cud???!"
*discourse continues for several boring minutes until finally a Merriam Webster is procured and subsequent dual definition revealed. VJ and I gleefully revel in finding such a gem of a word and remain close friends to this day.*

Just a few of the marvelous cornucopia out there, I am sure. Which definitions do you prefer? What are some of your favorite crazy words?

*I must throw out a props to 'cusp' because I forgot last year... and cleavage. I haven't had any specific conversations regarding cleavage - other than it might be too PG-13 - but rest assured it's definitely on my list.

To blog or not to blog?

2007-08-09T12:43:00.000-04:00

I consider myself a member of a potentially controversially named "Generation", whether it be Generation Y, or perhaps, in my own opinion, more resting on that cusp between X and Y that has no name and no defined loyalties. The actual demarcation usually arises when the topic of technology is broached. I'm young enough that picking up the newest techie trend and/or gadget is relatively easy (though my learning curve plummeted upon exposure to Microsoft's Vista) but old enough to remember pen pals and real letters. I still remember window-less Internet browsing and the day that viewing pages in HTML was a privilege. I remember when registering for college was a pen-and-paper affair and signing up for classes entailed sitting anxiously by your phone at 11:58 pm, waiting for the midnight hour to strike so you could snatch up the receiver and hit the speed dial button that would hopefully boost you to the beginning of the registration queue.

Nowadays it's taken for granted that young people know how to maneuver increasingly intricate websites and registration processes, not to mention my grad school email password requires ciphering more difficult than any federal one I've been required to create. In the eight short years since my own undergraduate experiences I've been overwhelmed by the technological assumptions placed on young people today.

With the advent of such instantaneous gratification arises a world of social communication and networking... more specifically for today's topic, myspace, facebook, and yes, blogger. Just today I saw two articles related to social networking.

Up until recently, I was never much on the whole networking business, though I do (with chagrin) note that I have profiles, in addition to myspace and facebook, ldslinkup, friendster, blogger (obviously) possibly iLike (I don't even know what it is, really) and a myriad of other sites that all require a hot picture and a list of interests, likes, dislikes, favorite books... it's exhausting to keep up and I resorted to posting this blog address under all of my profiles as a panacea of personal information. I'd never had any reason to keep up to date on any of them, until my friend's wedding a few weeks ago brought me in encounter with old friends with whom I hadn't conversed in years, as well as new faces that, by the end of a torrid night of alcohol (not me), music, dancing (definitely me), and salacious flirting (maybe me), we parted with choruses of "find me on Facebook! I'm on Facebook!" Within hours of my return to DC I found requests flooding my inbox of "friend" connections, to which I dutifully responded and now find myself obsessively checking my account every few hours on the life updates of people to whom I would never communicate otherwise and quite possibly may never see again.

Which leads me to the question: if we're "friends" on Facebook... does that make us actually friends? What IS the point of a social network? My current answer is, "to stalk the whereabouts of people I would never otherwise talk to..." I would say that I now have a list of "friends without benefits"... a category that I never thought would actually be necessary to create. I have a whole list of people who have requested to be my 'friend', whom I see at church every week but never speak to otherwise.

Ironically along the same lines, blogging is very similar. Even as I type this I think, there will be people out there reading this that have never met me, or ones whom I never speak to who can now sleep easier knowing the current life update of another I-never-keep-in-touch-anymore friends and not having to feel compelled to actually communicate. I point no fingers, I fully admit reading blogs of people I've never met and feeling like we're old buddies... quite honestly it was surreal meeting the Thundergod last week, as I have fanatically followed his life dealings since 1999 and it was hard when he pointed out his bike-fall-scab not to exclaim "oh yeah! You fell on such-and-such street when you did this-and-this..." That's weird. It's just weird.

So what are your opinions? If you're reading this then you are, by default, a member of some sort of Internet network, whether you like it or not. What do you think of social networks and public forums? How do you use them and do you think they will benefit in the long run or deteriorate communication into blips of IMs, texting, and wall-to-wall vapidity?

And what you wish for could come true...

2007-08-02T07:30:00.002-04:00

Continuing along the vein of super summer concerts, two nights ago I paid my regular bi-annual (or however many times they decide to visit the area) homage to my favorite band of all time. I think Guster has gotten about three or four postings on my blog now... definitely statistically significant at whatever alpha level you decide to set.

The concert at Wolftrap began like any other... luckily the weather was about twenty degrees cooler than a year ago, with clear skies and virtually (for DC) no humidity and really quite perfect for an outdoor venue. Pete Yorn was fantastic, though for a wanna-be fan I am embarrassed to admit I only recognized one or two of his songs... but I bought a t-shirt, so that counts, right?

Guster came out, my friend Shauna and I were thrilled (it being her first Guster concert, she having had biked twenty miles - twenty miles - to make the show in time) and the crowds sitting stoically and motionless on the lawn just weren't cutting it for us. We wove our way through to the back and then proceeded to mimic, in exponential outlandishness, the actions of the very fans I had been deriding not seven days earlier at the John Mayer concert. We danced like maniacs, we bawled every word ("bawled" in a 'loud and unrestrained' way, not in a 'weeping' way...), we earned the looks of contempt, scorn, amusement, and annoyance of everyone around us. We even earned some guy's third row center ticket, as he was leaving and thought that we would appreciate a closer view... though Shauna's staunch loyalty to not deserting a friend kept us where we were.

As we continued in our unfettered joy and delight, we were suddenly approached by a big, burly, middle-aged man who had apparently been watching us for some time. He introduced himself as Guster's stage manager and that he had been sent out to recruit some 'excited fans' from the back of the peanut gallery for an intimate 'meet and greet' after party, and he thought that, judging from our gusto, we fit the bill. Ha! Whilst tempting, honestly, does that EVER happen? No way am I going anywhere with you, big burly man. We were about to go our way when he introduced himself as Roger, and something in my distant, recessed obsessive fan memory clunked into place, and I said "wait... are you the truck driver who had a fish fry with your son and Brian (the Thundergod) on... some Jewish holiday... back in like, 2005?" (Yes. I know.) His eyes widened and he said "boy, you really are a fan... I think you've earned your place." He offered to bring us backstage so we could watch from there; I was all for it but the sound and view were admittedly better from where we were, so we told him we'd stay put and he said he'd come get us at the end of the show. To add magic to jubilation, as this conversation was ensuing, I dimly heard Ryan onstage talking about performing an 'old school monster ballad that we haven't sung in a long time', and proceeding to... yes. Either Way. Ironic, isn't it, that I had publicly declared not hearing it performed since 2000...

Still not believing it was wholly true, I ran and fetched my one male friend to join us in the back, because I figured a) if we really were going to meet Guster, he would owe me forEVER and b) if we weren't and Big Burly Man wanted to attack us, at least we had a male to protect us. Really it was a win-win situation (and Josh, I'm sorry that I didn't exactly inform you about option b...). The show ended, the crowds exited en masse, and I started to doubt... really? Seriously? Was I truly about to meet my most favorite musical group of all time?

Really.

Roger came up the stairs ("I had to work y'know, it takes me time to get up here, this is why I wanted you to come backstage") and herded us backstage... weaving our way inbetween the tour buses and giant equipment vans, I suddenly found myself face-to-face with Ryan Miller and Joe Pisapia, who ignored us with dignity (as I attempted to maintain my own composure) but were verbally attacked by some woman who snarled "Roger! Get them some identification! This is a FEDERAL building!" to which I *almost* retorted "and I'm a federal employee...!", then to "the room where they hang out before the show" (I know he said some official title, but I was too dazed to catch it) and finally to a secondary, larger room, where about twenty nervous people were awkwardly standing about, muttering with restrained excitement.

Gah! How do we approach music stars? What do we do??? Josh wisely remarked "well, probably what will happen is, someone will come in the room and tell us "Okay, Guster is coming in in a few minutes, this is what you should do..." and then we'll all be prepared..." As he was stating this eloquent opinion, Brian the Thundergod shuffled in, stopped, and peered around the room. "...or not..."

One by one each band member trickled in (Joe being the last, "I'm sorry, I was on the phone! I was buying a car on eBay...") and seeing as they were tired and not exactly predisposed to making the rounds like politicians, it was up to the gumption of us, rabid fans, to approach and speak to them. This resulted in many awkward conversations and giggly, high-pitched laughs, but hey, I haven't been madly in love since 1999 to lose my nerve now, right?

Ryan was the first one we had the guts to approach. He insisted on taking all the photos.
After waiting literally ten minutes to speak to Brian (whose attention was monopolized by some teeny chick who bombarded him with questions about his drums, to which he finally replied "I don't understand why people care what brand drums I use. I bought mine at a yard sale.") he finally turned to us with a self-deprecating "Hi I'm Brian..." on a semi-dare, I immediately approached him and said "I'm taking your picture... now..." Yes, I often have this effect on guys I crush on...
Joe is nice. Joe takes nice pictures.
Adam stretched his arm waaaay out to get us all in the frame; I told him he wouldn't need to as it's a dual lens... He was impressed by the camera: "My arm looks like a gorilla!! How does this thing work?" I told him it had two lenses...
...that could catch closeups quite nicely. "Wow! I look totally evil!... Actually, I look like an eagle, don't you think?" He was fascinated.
"Look, I'm such a @#$%-ing rebel..." said Ryan as I snapped this picture.

After an exhausting, thrilling night, we shoved Shauna's bike into the back of my car and I took her home. Fanaticism sometimes does pay off... :)

Do you have a brush with fame that fulfilled all of your wildest dreams? Share! Share!

*full slideshow here for your viewing enjoyment...

** many of you have remarked on the Thundergod's frightening appearance. Be assured that there is good reason why I've been such a fan all these years.

You were not the same after that!

2007-07-27T12:47:00.000-04:00

The summer concert season is once again upon us!! The hubbub of international travels, cool license plates, and summer weddings aside, two nights ago I was privy to one of the mega-concerts of the year, John Mayer with Ben Folds and James Morrison. My desire to attend was fueled mostly by Ben Folds (and my thrilling experience of last year) but I had to admit, throwing in an uber-pop star like John Mayer wouldn't hurt... at least I'd know his songs, if only by default.

It is a true testament of my age that I was relieved to see that we had nice, cushy seats and would be sitting for the concert duration. We were even in the first row of the second tier, so we could put our feet up like we were at a movie and thus add even more to my physical comfort. At one point during a particularly lovely John Mayer warble I admit I fell asleep... O, the days when I would force my physical way to the front of the crowd and jump and dance and scream for hours! No more. Call me a geezer but I will fork over a few more dollars for the cushioned seat, thank you.

Ben Folds, whilst fabulous as always, was disappointingly short... the highlight of his performance being an inadvertent piano stool blowout and James Morrison (purportedly) running onstage mid-song to put the cushion back on, push the stool under Ben, and pat his butt before running off again. Most of Ben's songs were older (read: I don't know anything not off of Rockin' the Suburbs) but his finale was a rousing rendition of the audience choir singing in three-part harmony for "Not the Same", culminating in his scaling the grand piano (with surprising agility) and conducting the audience with vivacity. I love Ben.

John graced us with his presence over an hour after Ben exited the stage, to the frenzied screams of the sold-out audience. He is, by definition, an incredibly talented musician, and has himself noted that he would rather compose and perform more 'edgy' material (like unto Eric Clapton) rather than the bubble-gum (tongue?) pop into which society has pigeon-holed him. His music was fantastically performed, his backup musicians incredibly talented, and even the most obnoxiously overplayed songs (think "Wonderland") were rendered musically edible. His performance of Gravity was one of the sexiest musical tidbits I have ever encountered.

One of the greatest amusements to we four old fogies was the four screaming, barely pubescent teenage girls behind us, who stood and danced and cried with excitement the entire time John was onstage. While it was funny to us who were watching, I must say that I myself was exactly the same way at their age. Perhaps I was never reduced to uncontrollable sobs (though hearing Guster perform Either Way at Bricks in 2000 perhaps brought a bright sheen to my eye) but I've definitely had my fair share of screaming teenage thrills. Case in point: Boyz II Men. 1996. Second row center. Oh. Yeah.

So. Let's take another trip down nostalgia lane, and tell me: who reduced you to tears of joy, or manly grunts of musical excitement, when you were 16 years old?? It doesn't have to be pop; this isn't VH1's I love the 90's. I just want to know who you loved when you were in 11th grade...

The best Friday link ever

2007-07-13T11:48:00.001-04:00

There are few things that bring as much joy and mirth to my day as international humor...

Happy Friday!

Last minute desperate plea!!

2007-07-06T13:02:00.000-04:00

I know I first posted this idea like what, six, seven months ago...? Since then, people have asked me what I've decided on, but the answer has always been, "well, my New York insurance hasn't expired yet, so I'm holding off..." Said insurance expires July 12 and it's time to finally accept that after three years, I'm a technical Virginian resident whose automobile should be registered thusly.

Of course, now that the crunch time has arrived, I'm a quivering blob of indecision. Personalized license plates are much like getting tattoos (not that I have personal experience, mind you)... they seem pretty rockin' at the time, but the sense of true permanency doesn't sink in until it's far too late.

Luckily, the VA DMV website allows you to preview potential auto-faux-pas(es?) so you can really get a sense for what you're committing to. Among the approximately six hundred choices of plates, I submit for your vote the following:

OPTION A

OPTION B

OPTION C

OPTION D

OPTION E

OPTION F
You're a total blithering idiot, and just go with the mature choice of letting the DMV choose your random combination of letters and numbers for you.

Please cast your votes!! The polling booths close... well, whenever the DMV states I have to get my new plates on my car. I approach tomorrow morning's trek with impending doom...

All hail, Kengling!

2007-06-27T08:10:00.000-04:00

For all of you who have ever wondered (or asked) why my "little sister voice" is so high and squeaky...

And just to ice off the cake, when I typed in "Keng" in YouTube's search engine, it popped up with "Did you mean "king"?" No. I didn't.

As a cherry on top, I had to post **this as proof that we Census employees really do have endless sources of entertainment during our work days. Apparently this happened in our parking garage on Monday. Can you imagine being the driver that had to open his/her (though quite frankly, I'm leaning towards "her") door and step out on top of the roof of one of the cars she just crushed? We still don't know exactly what prompted this melee, but I'm still laughing about it.

**"This" isn't working, so here. The picture is right here. Enjoy.

A little international culture...

2007-06-19T08:50:00.000-04:00

Happy Duan Wu Jie! Also known as the Dragon Boat Festival, this holiday is outranked in importance only by the Chinese New Year and possibly the Autumn Moon Festival, but that's another post for another time. It falls on the fifth day of the fifth month of the lunar year. My Google searches have come up with various historical facts, but a common theme centers on the poet Qu Yuan, who, in about 250 B.C., flung himself into a river to protest the corrupt government of his time. Well... I think a better interpretation would be, he was completely overwhelmed by the desolation of the government of his time; otherwise I'm not sure how effective a protest that would have been. He wrote a final poem before his suicide, and another term for this holiday is Poet's Day.

Being beloved by the people, they raced to the river to find his body, and to keep the fishes from eating it, threw in food and beat the water with paddles to scare them away. In one legend, they needed to placate the dragon that lived in the water and Qu Yuan appeared in a dream to tell them their food needed to be wrapped in three-pointed silk bundles. Thus the tradition of zong zi (sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves) was born, as well as the titular dragon boats, that are, on one hand, used to scare away the fishes, and on the other hand, to represent the fearsome dragon that dominated the waters.

These days the Dragon Boat festival commences with (surprise) a dragon boat race and supposedly, if you can balance a raw egg at exactly 12 o'clock noon, your entire year will be lucky.

There are two reasons why I love this holiday: the zong zi's (this, my friends, is just simply awesome) filled with pork butt, chestnuts, and peanuts (no red bean paste for me), and, more importantly, it happens to be my birthday, which is why my Chinese name includes the character for "poet." Being based on the lunar calendar, it falls anywhere from the end of May to the end of June, giving me a cushy margin of error in which to celebrate all things me. I'm so vainglorious.

I'll be off balancing my raw egg...

Random Rants

2007-06-13T16:02:00.001-04:00

Everyone has them. That one little thing that isn't all that bad. It might have even been funny the first time. But given ten, or twenty, or a hundred times of that little thing, it evolves into a full-blown-beyond-pet peeve that ignites your fuse and crushes your humor and patience every time hereafter. Whether it be a "Has anyone ever told you you look like Prince Charles?" to "... now, I KNOW I'm going to say your name wrong, so why don't you just up and help me out here", we've racked up our lists over the years and I'm airing mine out now. Just so you know, that statistician "Oh, Census Bureau huh? So you only work, like, once every ten years" joke really isn't funny. It never was.

Most of my readers probably know all these by now. They know better than to confuse me with my evil twin, and let's just say that I'm glad the annual Mormon white water rafting trip is coming up soon, because if I get one more person asking me when to pay their money or how great friends we became last year while rafting (yes, very, very close dude, we were so tight you can't identify WHO I AM) I will absolutely scream at the next one who does it. I've come very close. Many times. Only great respect for Evil Twin do I keep from doing it, because then they'll associate it with her and thus besmirch her reputation...

Is it really so hard to spell/pronounce a four-letter last name correctly? One vowel, the most common in the English alphabet (thank you, Wheel of Fortune), a ubiquitous 'N-G' ending, 'K' at the beginning, not a commonly mispronounced consonant (unlike a soft or hard 'C' or 'G')... really, how many possible permutations of K-E-N-G can you have? The best is when they ask me, "are you SURE it's not with an 'I'?" Really, what are you expecting? "Wait... wait... yes, you're absolutely right!! I DID misspell my own last name!! Gosh, thank you so much for catching that oversight, I don't know what I would have done..." I've gotten used to, when asked for the last name, an immediate "Keng: K-E-N-G" and still, 95% of the time they get it wrong. I haven't quite worked up the gumption to proclaim "Keng: K-E-N-G" the first time around, but trust me, it comes out the second. Or third. My most recent "are you serious?" experience came while registering at the annual Police 5K, where when asked for my name, I simply handed her my driver's license (the Lupus Walk fiasco two weeks earlier where I "wasn't registered" testing the limits of my patience) and again stated very clearly, "K-E-N-G". "Keng...Keng...Keng... I'm sorry, it looks like you're not on our list. Are you sure you registered?" I fixed my most baleful glare at her and said through gritted teeth, "That's because it's K-E-N-G." "Oh! There you are!!"

I think I've decided as of today to start screaming the E.

The saddest part is that my name is Anglicized from a Chinese character (in today's Romanization it's technically "Geng", pronounced "Gung"... chew on that); when I went to Taiwan for my mission, I remember thinking "Aaaahhhh, finally!! They shall finally pronounce my name the way the gods decreed!! Two unfettered years of blissful correct name identification! I can't wait!" Yeah. Nobody could identify my Chinese name. Many insisted it was some permutation that is pronounced "Dee". I had thought it couldn't get any worse.

I could start on my first name but I'll summarize... just know that when you put out a list of people and I don't see my name, I'll scan through it again and use mathematical computations and processes of elimination to see if they really are identifying me as "Jenn". It may not seem like such a big deal, but the way you spell your name is what you associate with your identity. Please, all parents, current and future, please, for the love of your children, do not name them Kimber-Leigh or MahKayleghn or whatever cute little permutation you come up with. Be kind. Think of their futures.

My last quibble comes from an old roommate Jenny, who wrote me and said that she is now officially "Jen" because her office already had a Jenny when she started. So they declared her to be Jen. I'm sorry, but isn't that something you do in the third grade, not at the age of thirty?? It's not like your name is Bill and you go into an office and they say "I'm sorry, we already have a Bill, I guess we'll just have to call you William from now on..." Um, hello???

I know you've all got them. Here's your platform to air them out. You'll feel so much better afterwards. Really. I feel positively sublime now... bring it on, Jenn King!

PS I do have to say though, that the confusion with my classmate Jin Kang is completely legitimate... and maybe I lied, just typing out "Jenn King" gave me shudders all up and down my back.

Just the five. Husbands should be like Kleenex: soft, strong, and disposable

2007-06-07T08:33:00.000-04:00

Wmchicago posted a great blog a little while back (seriously, how many home runs can you hit in a row?!) about awesome t-shirts. My immediate response was my latest acquisition, an automatic conversation starter in a room full of people when you don't feel like doing the actual work, and social filter that percolates the morons from... well, everyone else. It's like when I used to wear my Guster t-shirt(s) on BYU campus, hoping to find fellow Gusterrhoids... my Posse and I used to have two questions to determine Potential Friendship: 1) Do you like curry? and 2) Do you like Guster? Which worked well until I met someone who loved curry AND Guster and turned out to be a psycho-freak anyway... I dropped my criteria after that.

Anyway, I digress. Thinking upon awesome t-shirts dredged up the memory of my Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt collection which still continues, in moderation, to this day. My very first HRC shirt was purchased in none other than Washington, D.C. at the tender age of um, eighth grade (12? 13?) Sadly it was retired to the rag sack somewhere around the beginning of college.

This led me to ponder on the other collections I've had over the years. I'm quite a serial collector; I like things that come in sets, because you don't have to exert the mental power every time to decide whether or not you want it... it's automatically cool by association. So yes, here we go, another bulleted list for your review:

The Babysitters Club: Oh yeah, I was totally subject to the fads of the day. I completely remember the day they announced that The Babysitters Club were the most popular books in our fifth grade French Road Elementary School and how we shrieked (the pre-pubescent boys groaning... they'll never learn). Remember how the girls on the covers of the books looked to be about twenty-five, when really they were only supposed to be eleven and thirteen...? Creepy. I was sent this blog a few months ago by some friends from the third grade. We relived memories. In the same category (pre-teen books) fall Sweet Valley High, Fear Street by R.L. Stine, anything by Christopher Pike, and carried to today, Harry Potter, The Bartimaeus Trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia.
Trolls: This really is one of those "ew, what was I thinking?!" fads. Yes, I was completely swept up in the marketing campaigns of the early 90's. I think my mom mercifully threw them all away when we moved two years ago, though I wonder how much they'd fetch on eBay... remind me what the point of those were again?
Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts and pins: My navy blue L.L.Bean backpack used to be my display case of all my awesome pins until my favorite one, a first edition Taipei Chiang Kai-Shek memorial, fell off and was forever lost. Now they're all in a little plastic baggie... somewhere... off of the top of my head I have paraphenelia from 15 different cities. This is the one collection I've kept up, as said before. I'm such a nerd.
The requisite Barbies, My Little Ponies... Moon...beams? They were dolls that glowed in the dark. I had two of those. They were precious to me.
Beanie Babies: I didn't quite fall prey to this as much as others (my freshman roommate literally owned every single one... I guess being a multi-millionaire from Kansas leaves you with very little else to do) but I still own a Garcia Peace bear and a shark. It's the only one at the time that actually had a mouth. We used to attack ourselves with it in middle-school orchestra. I know. I know. Nerd.

I know you've got all sorts of collections out there, don't deny it. This days I mostly collect Patak's curry pastes and cool colored pens from Taiwan. And shoes...

Fess up!

Flash! Flash! Flash!

2007-06-06T13:50:00.001-04:00

Another heartfelt, humble, yet enthusiastic and overzealous shoutout to wmchicago, possibly the best blogger ever. Thanks to her I now have the hottest music playlist on my blog.

Also, we (no, not my tapeworm, my cronies and I) have set up dual camp at FruitySoaps, a highly under-informed, completely biased, yet hopefully light-hearted and whimsical site dedicated to the discussion and critique of all things cinematic. And whatever else may hit our fancy. Please feel free to peruse at your leisure.

Fear no more dear readers, a new (real) post is forthcoming!

Til then, which song do you like the most on my hot red playlist?

Just duckin around...

2007-05-31T07:35:00.000-04:00

This past Memorial Day weekend, I paid my first homage to the beautiful shores of Outer Banks, North Carolina and the famed "Duck Beach" where so many hordes of young adults throng for a weekend of sand, fun, and whatever else in which young adults may want to indulge. As one friend put it, "it was like a Mormon rave... glo-sticks and Deer Park bottles EVERYWHERE..."

I returned home to icky, sticky hot weather and thoroughly depressed to have to face another dreary work week, but my future is somewhat brightened by an impending trip to Cancun in June... I know, what a tedious life I lead. To get myself prepped I humbly submit the following:

The awesome song is Mi Swing Es Tropical by Quantic & Nicodemus (a special thanks to area 77, without whom this entire post would not be possible... ah, Google) and I've had it on repeat since Tuesday.

I have a love/hate relationship with Apple and iTunes/iPod... on the one hand, you hate them for being so ubiquitous and popular and that everyone and their stuffed dog has jumped on the bandwagon and you would never succumb to such banal herding, but on the other hand, for that exact reason is it so easy to go with the flow and easily plop your music onto one player and hook it up to your car and your stereo and your computer and your stuffed dog and find any sort of accessory you could ever envision for your mp3 needs... it's like that obnoxious popular kid in high school that you wanted to despise but wished you could be at the same time... or maybe that was just me.

Anyway, enjoy. I'll be making my paper countdown chain...

I've been using some fruity soaps, Maggie!

2007-05-22T10:45:00.000-04:00

When I first moved to D.C. nearly three years ago, I sent out a plea on our lil' Mormon listserv asking for advice on purchasing "international" food. Having experienced a major dearth my entire time in Provo, I was desperate for an abundance of Patak's curry pastes and non-Kikkoman brands to enliven my culinary endeavors.

I received about fifteen prompt replies, copied and pasted said responses onto one document, and set out all over town to scour out the recommended locations. The most exciting discovery of them all was GrandMart, a Korean-run establishment that has an equal proportion of Asians and Hispanics, working in communal harmony to provide elusive produce and products to the non-white population of Alexandria.

To my delight, GrandMart not only carries incredibly fresh, cheap produce (masses of immigrants aside), but treasures from all over the world that I never though I'd find in the United States. Ergo, I'm feeling compelled to reminisce upon the many amazing fruits I have experienced in my lifetime (almost all from my experiences in Taiwan), most of which will never reach the United States, and all of which should compel you, gentle reader, to expand your travel horizons to experience such delicacies before your mortal time expires...

Let's start with guavas (bala). My favorite fruit of my Taiwanese childhood, it has the consistency of something between an apple and a really really hard pear, with a subtle zip underneath (boy, I should be a culinary critic...) but my favorite part is the fleshy middle, which some ignorant people shave out when they serve it. Careful of the seeds, they're supposedly indigestible and you'll crack your teeth on them.

Next come lychees, also paid homage in Kayc's Indian travels. Taiwanese are quite superstitious and were always very careful to warn us that eating them would increase our body temperature, as lychees are high in calories. Because of this they are also supposedly a fantastic aphrodisiac, which I never understood why the members of the LDS church in Taiwan would press bunches of them upon us chaste missionaries, telling us about these wonderful properties...

Then we have wax apples (lian wu), which to be honest, if I were still living in Taiwan, would top the list. They're sweet and crunchy and cottony at the same time... the dichotomy of textures alone puts this beautiful fruit in a class all its own. I was lucky enough to live for a few months in the "Black Pearl" (no relation to Pirates of the Carribean) region of Taiwan...

My favorite discovery when I was on my mission was that of dragon fruit (huo long guo), which, in my opinion, looks like a mutant Christmas catcus/Little Shop of Horrors gone awry. The color is brilliant, though the flavor and texture are disappointingly bland; all dragon fruits I tasted reminded me of completely tasteless kiwi fruit with all the little black seeds. But boy it makes a great garnish!

Lastly (for today) we address "sugar apples" (I've never heard that term before, in my head it will always be "shi-jia"), which look slightly creepy; they are filled with large black pits which you spit out after eating the fleshy, banana-esque-but-with-a-tang interior. Taiwanese really like spitting out pits.

There are so many, many fruits/vegetables out there that I've never tried; next on my list is mangosteen, very very very hopefully the coveted Indian mangoes that might finally make their way to the States, but I think I can firmly say that I can make it through life without any stinkyfruits in my digestive system...

I think this is the longest post ever, and now I'm hungry. Whilst I pull out my remaining guava, please, humor me... what exotic fruits/vegetables/animals have you ever tried, and what did you think of them?

One of these things is not like...

2007-05-15T09:40:00.000-04:00

About a year ago, I attended a lavish birthday party held in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in downtown Washington, D.C. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the Mandarin Oriental is a supposedly fabulous five-star establishment with the type of detail and attention mere mortal peons such as myself would never actually notice. It is undeniably quite lovely, and the party location was, in a word, swanky.

My immediate attention upon entering the lobby that night was drawn to a large painting that was apparently commissioned specifically for that particular hotel. Being that the name of said establishment consists of two oft-misused terms, I was (and always am) skeptical of Western depictions of anything Asian-related. This particular painting, however, left me flummoxed. Please, if you will:

These are the thoughts in the order they went through my befuddled head:

Dude, Asian chick is on a swing. I've never known any ancient Chinese royalty to "swing"...
...speaking of, she doesn't even look Asian. More like Spanish, or even white, with a black wig--
--flying monkeys? Where are they flying from? Where are they flying to?? What's up with the flying -
- D.C.? Um, she's hovering over the landscape of downtown D.C... okay, so this painting was commissioned for D.C., that's very nice, but--
...where is chick hanging?? The Washington Monument and The Capitol are the two tallest edifices in D.C., and she looks to be miles above the landscape...

By then I was utterly overwhelmed and had to turn away. A five star hotel, besmirched by the baffling painting. Shame...

So maybe I'm missing the deeper artistic meaning of this work. Thoughts??

*many, many props and hollas and hooplah and etc. to JC for finding said painting online with only my muddled description of "so there's this really weird painting at the Mandarin Oriental..." He also discovered that the painting is of the legendary Dowager Empress Tzu-Hsi, who supposedly poisoned her nephew by painful, evil, conniving means to ascend the throne... maybe the "Mandarin Oriental" is just a cover up for the presence of the Chinese mafia in D.C....

Road Trip or Bust, Part II

2007-05-08T10:55:00.000-04:00

My beloved roommate has embarked on her trip westward as of this morning, towards her summer Eden of Arizona. Get a beautiful tan for me, wmchicago!

To help her on her 6-day trek I'd like to touch upon one of the absolute essentials of any such journey: The Road Trip Music Mix!

Every car ride has a destination, even if that destination be nowhere at all. Certain songs will always invoke certain memories, and the compilation of said songs into one composite whole takes talent, skill, and a certain panache. In the words of John Cusack's character from the film High Fidelity:

"The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules."

Wise words, wise words. Whilst I cannot even begin to attempt compilation of the Ultimate Summer Road Trip Mix, here are some songs that will always remind me of warm sunny afternoons and open car windows...

The Impression That I Get, Mighty Mighty Bosstones - somewhere around junior/senior year of high school, ska became huge and every nerdy band trumpetist suddenly gained newfound respect
Breakfast At Tiffany's, Deep Blue Something - talk about your one hit wonders. Ahhhh, ninth grade...
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life), Green Day - our high school graduation theme song. Ironic, given our eighth grade yearbook voted Green Day as both "best" and "worst" band of the year, stirring quite a prepubscent uprising among our masses
Steal My Sunshine, Len - remember how this song was slightly creepy due to the whole brother/sister act?
Miami, Will Smith - no summer music collection is complete without him.
Big Yellow Taxi, Counting Crows - reminiscent of my summer in California. It just makes me happy.
Pop, *NSYNC - possibly the most idyllic summer of my life, 20 years old, no responsibilities, just chillin' in Provo and dancing some dirty pop every time I got in my car...
These Words, Natasha Bedingfield - I will always associate this song with danim423, who introduced it to me on our lil' road trip up to Camp Greenwood for the first annual ward retreat. Getting lost at 10 pm in the pitch black, driving for miles in opposite directions...
Sweet Escape, Gwen Stefani - so far this year's ultimate bubble gum pop song that has kept my head bopping... until the next hit comes along...

I could probably go on for days and weeks and months, but I'll save you the insanity. What is your favorite/ultimate road trip/summertime song???

Road Trip or Bust!!

2007-05-03T07:40:00.000-04:00

It's still over a month until summer "officially" begins, but for me, it starts in D.C. when the Yellow Line Metro bursts up from under the Pentagon/L'enfant Plaza and brilliant daylight meets my work-weary eyes, highlighting the Potomac River, the cherry blossoms (in the spring), and the beautiful Jefferson and Washington memorials. I always try to sit/stand where I can see them as I travel to and from work. Dismal indeed are the months when dark, dreary night obscures such a gorgeous vision.

With added daylight hours comes the advent of one of my favorite summer activities: road trips!! There's nothing quite as thrilling as chucking your junk into your trunk (don't snicker), buying the granola bars and baby carrots (and my own personal favorite, dried squid... hey, some of you eat that nasty smelly beef jerky. Ewwwwwwwww...), mapquesting/google-mapping your destination, creating a sweet playlist on the ubiquitous iPod, filling up that tank and headin' out!

I've driven from New York to Utah twice, passing through geographical gems as Ogallala, Nebraska and being startled by a giant bust of Abraham Lincoln somewhere in the mountainous area between Wyoming and Utah. The summer I graduated from college I packed up my entire life into my baby blue '95 Camry and headed out to Palo Alto, CA, a twelve hour drive I was supposed to take with a good friend until he called me at 6 am the morning of and told me he had been mysteriously throwing up all night, forcing me to embark on the trip solo on two hours of sleep. I have a testimony of those rumble strip thingies on the sides of the highway... they caught me falling asleep more than once at 95 mph. I spent the night in Lake Tahoe, having stopped in the dead of the night and woke up to a glorious scene of lake, mountain, snow, and big blue sky.

My most memorable road trip was a path traversed from Pampa, TX to Alexandria, VA to help a friend drive her car back from her hometown. We didn't get on the road until 8 pm the first night (breaking rule #1 of my father's Road Trip Restrictions: Never drive after 6 pm) and it had started to rain. Summer thunderstorms are purportedly legendary in the "Panhandle" of the USA and this one lived up to reputation; I had never seen horizontal lightning nor seen it since. As I squinted through the deluge, searching for the hairpin turn I was supposed to make to get on the freeway, I marveled at the beauty and power of Mother Nature. Or God. As the sharp turn was successfully navigated, I crowed "I dare you to impede my progress!!" ...and was answered with a torrential downpour the likes of which would have me cowering in my basement, much less in the middle of the muddy plains of Texas in a tiny Geo Prism. When we finally stopped that night to rest I abashedly told God that I would never challenge Him again.

What's the coolest/most dangerous/most memorable road trip you've taken? It doesn't have to be summer, but it does have to involve at least two wheels upon which you were riding...

Summer of sequels!

2007-04-25T13:32:00.000-04:00

Summer is finally closing in upon us and with it comes the glorious relief of good, solid, blockbuster-guaranteed movies. No more rotten comedies with banal scripts! No more B-rated horror slasher flicks with TV/movie actresses and dirty blonde tresses! The studios hold their best offerings close during the cold late winter months, to be released with the end of the school year and the floods of young people with cash to spend and the muggy weather driving people indoors for a few hours of air-conditioned entertainment.

I couldn't help noticing that accompanying the excitement that builds with every new movie poster splashed across building walls comes the observation that this summer's potential blockbusters tend to all be variations and/or extensions of previously established hits. There is probably something deep and introspective I could muse upon the degradation of cinematic originality and the loss of unique cultural entertainment... but nah. The reason why these movies are all sequels is because the original idea sold, and therefore even if the sequel sucks, at least there is some smidgen of popular demand mired within the sucky sequel atrocities. (Pirates of the Carribean 2 is distinctly coming to mind, but of course I'm still going to go see it opening weekend...)

So, I hereby rank the summer sequels in the order in which I am excited to see them:

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix -- hello, is this even a question? And a mere WEEK before the release of the final chapter!! Does Harry die?????
Ocean's Thirteen -- looking for a redemption from Ocean's Twelve, as Ocean's Eleven still ranks as one of my all-time favorites
The Bourne Ultimatum -- I didn't even know this one was coming, which makes the enticement all the more alluring...
Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World's End -- see above re: Ocean's Thirteen. Lame but potentially redemptable. Though there's something to be said about movies that were made to stand alone and THEN sequels were squeezed out merely for box-office success. Okay, really what it is is Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. There.
Shrek the Third-- Shrek 2 was one of those few sequels that was almost better (if not definitively) than the original. AND rumor has it Justin Timberlake makes a cameo as Prince Arthur, king in waiting...
Spiderman 3 -- so this doens't really rank all that high on my list because honestly, I don't really understand what the appeal of Spiderman is over any other superhero. I'll go see it because it's Spiderman and I can never pass up a super hero. Many of you may gasp by my cinematic apostasy, but I don't see how the Spiderman movies are so much better than, say, the original two Tim Burton Batman movies or the original two Superman movies (relative to their time period, of course.) It could also be because I really just can't stand Kirsten Dunst. She really should have stopped at Little Women.
Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer -- don't roll your eyes. I'm shamelessly in love with Ioan Gruffud. The end.

I ask you, my fellow blogging community, the following questions: Which sequels are you excited to see and why (how would you rank them, and did I miss any?), and which movie sequel do you think is the best one ever made? There are obviously so many to choose from, but for my limited mental capacity today I'm going to have to say Toy Story 2. Toy Story was amazing, but its sequel was almost impossibly even better. That is all.

You sly dog! You got me monologuing!

2007-04-12T07:54:00.000-04:00

Last night my roommates and I watched the pilot episode to what looks to be a promising series, Heroes. Set in modern day New York city, the show pulls on the age-old sci-fi fantasy scenario: what if humans have evolved to produce 'special' abilities? Not a new concept there; X-men (perhaps the most notable of such scenarios) was first published in 1963 and its current movie trilogy (the last one sadly disappointing, though as I've commented on many an occasion, had some beautiful pairs of jeans trotting/flying/running about...) was a smashing box-office success for the 21st century.

As I watched the show, mouth slack and jaw agape (there were some pretty grisly scenes that gave me gruesome nightmares that night) I wistfully recalled the many dreams I've had where I could fly. That has always been my one "if you could..." The freedom of the skies, the lack of hindrance to such banalities as roads, the ability to go when and where you want, no physical gravitational limitations, and of course, no capes. I would love to go soaring over the fjords, the crags, the mountains, the oceans, drag my fingers through the water (yes, cheesy movie scenes and all) touch the top of the Himalayas, rest for a bit in the Amazon rainforest, before taking off again to see the Great Wall of China and pay homage to my ancestors.

I suppose this is including the caveat of supersonic flight but hey, as long as I'm fantasizing... plus if I had to have my superpower to make me a "hero" I might as well toss in the ability to throw fireballs (a la *Mortal Kombat). I've always wanted to do that too. :) Perfect combination of both defensive and offensive capabilities.

So, gentle readers, I now pass the blogging torch to you: if you could possess any superhero power, what would it be and why? Don't feel limited to the typical "indestructible", "invisible", "stretchy", etc etc... some characters can turn into purple guinea pigs. The sky's the limit! (please, slap your knee for me...)

*errata, May 5, 2007: I was informed by two coworkers that fireballs are, in fact, a la Streetfighter 2. Mortal Kombat was more the "GET OVER HERE!" whilst ripping off heads and pulling out spinal cords. That is all.

Asian Keng Clones...

2007-04-08T22:01:00.001-04:00

http://www.myheritage.com

A peepshow...

2007-04-07T18:55:00.000-04:00

Two and a half years ago a relationship between a now-BFF and myself was cemented with vermilion Peeps. The story is long and intricate and you can ask me for details if you so wish, but suffice to say that over the years, Peeps have worked their soft fluffy way into my life over and over again, culminating in a purchase just this very morning at Bath and Body Works, completed with a chirpy "you get a free box of Peeps with your purchase today!" My response: "Um, seriously...?" "Yes, and you're very lucky, because this is the last box!" "Wow. I don't know how my day could possibly get any better..."

Oh it has, my friends, it just has. Bet you had no idea these little buggers were so scientifically intriguing. Since I now have a box of bright yellow originals, I am going to host a Peep war, time yet to be determined... all observers welcome! We can relive the glory days of yore!!

Youkoso!

2007-04-03T08:41:00.000-04:00

Saturday marked the grand commencement of Washington D.C.'s annual Cherry Blossom Festival, homage to peaceful international intentions between Japan and our nation's capital. The first cherry blossom tree was planted on the Tidal Basin in 1912, and since then has expanded to over three thousand trees, two weeks of celebration, and lots and lots of people. Last year's blooms were somewhat disappointing, as the weather was incredibly cold and windy, blowing all the blossoms away, but RIGHT NOW is the 2007 peak bloom (April 3-5, according to the National Cherry Blossom page) so get out there and enjoy them while they last!

I finally made it to the annual Smithsonian Kite Festival, a mishmash of kite flyers, experienced and novice alike. Anyone wanting to brave the traffic also had to resign themselves to being ambushed by renegade plastic flying projectiles. The Rokkaku kite battle was fascinating as well, kites being shoved to the ground or 'cut', strings literally shorn with the friction of warring enemies. My own attempts at flying a kite failed miserably; another talent best left up to the experts.

I could not help but be reminded of my own hometown's cherished Lilac Festival, informally started in 1892 and home to North America's largest lilac collection... which really isn't that distinguished of a title, but there you go. The blooms really are quite beautiful though, adding another reason to why I love spring.

So what cool goes on where you live? If you are a current DC resident, is the Cherry Blossom Festival your favorite or is there something else? I'm kind of a fan of the Drag Queen Race myself, though I have yet to attend (or participate)... and if you can't think of anything exciting that goes on in your town, you need to move.

To everything there is a season...

2007-03-20T08:21:00.000-04:00

Happy Vernal Equinox Day!! It is, in my opinion, a highly overlooked event, as the lives of our ancient civilization literally revolved around this day to start planting their crops and thus maintain their human existence. It signifies the passage of winter into spring, a veritable rebirth of the earth, and also precursor to what has recently become my favorite holiday, Easter. There is newfound hope and beauty in the blossoming of trees (hay fever aside...), the blue skies and green grass from the cold, bleak landscape that has symbolized for me the cresting of many such moments in my life. Plus, I just really love the smell.

The Vernal Equinox has been associated with many man-built symbols of its significance, one being the Great Sphinx of Egypt, built to face the rising sun of that one day. The Kukulcán Pyramid of the Mayan culture is flanked with serpents, the light of the Equinox casting diamond-esque shadows down the sides of "El Castillo" only twice a year.

Last April (2006) found me in England (and Europe) for the very first time. A maiden visit is not complete with homage to Stonehenge and the subsequent wonder of its mysterious history. It was one of the most peaceful moments of my trip (albeit incredibly windy) and I returned with a greater appreciation for all things British...which now leads me to the approaching April of this year and a newfound determination to "travel everywhere dangerous and cool", as advised by an old YW counselor of yore.

To commemorate said Equinox, our own always-amazingly-cool wmchicago is reliving a supposed Utah State University tradition of burning something symbolic for the upcoming season; fake money for prosperity, old mementos to let go, food for health, plastic cars for sweet rides, voodoo dolls for... (okay I'm starting to make things up now) and I will contribute a map of all the places I want to go, the first being Greece (gyros unite!), followed by Australia (the whoooole continent), Venice and Vienna (for the classical music lover in me), Egypt (the original Alexandria), Jerusalem, the Amazon rainforest...

So my question of the day to you is: where have you always wanted to travel? I know some have previously been posted (my kengling is so much smarter than I, I not even knowing what Victoria Falls is) and potentially already shared (hermitages, anyone?) but I want to know where you have always wanted to go... it might make my map before tonight's incendiary!

Size does matter

2007-03-13T10:26:00.000-04:00

I have always had this fantasy (don't worry, it's clean... my mom reads my blog. Sometimes.) of performing the Rachmaninoff 2nd Piano Concerto in an impressive venue. Carnegie Hall, Kennedy Center, Eastman Theatre (the last one purely sentimental), you name it, I'd love to perform there. When I was a junior in high school my pride refused to allow me to study the piece because my arch nemesis, Joe K., had just started it the previous year and I would not follow in his shadow. I therefore took up the third movement of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto in B-flat minor, much to my own dismay since it was far too difficult to get up to performance level. My one shining moment of high school glory, however, was beating Joe in the annual Rochester Young Artists Audition, even if I was still only first-runner up to Stephen E., my senior year prom date and the only person to beat me in any piano competition (a grand total of three) my entire junior year. He was (and still is, I hope) a darned accomplished musician.

Anyway I digress. I've since sightread through the concerto on several occasions (the copy I own of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto being, ironically, combined with the Rachmaninoff 2nd), but will never get those first eight chords down perfectly due to sheer physical constraints. Rachmaninoff could span thirteen notes. I can span nine. Ten if I throw my thumbs out of whack. Maybe I should take a leaf out of this guy's book...

What is it you've always fantasized (clean, please) of doing??

*special thanks to Anna N. for the clip. Visiting teaching IS effective!!

Bulletin Bulletin Bulletin

2007-03-08T07:10:00.000-05:00

This morning's "Hollywood Headlines" on 99.7 started out with the disclaimer "You probably don't care about this..." As my hand automatically moved towards my radio to find something about which I did care, the opening phrase was then followed by "Lance Bass is going to dish! He is planning on writing his autobiography, "Out of Sync", in which he tells about being a member of *Nsync and being homosexual..."

Hello?! How could you think I don't care about something as noteworthy as this?! "Out of Sync" comes out in October and you all know what to get me for Christmas now...

Pachelbel's Rant

2007-03-01T23:28:00.000-05:00

When I was in tenth grade I auditioned for, and made, our high school 'chamber orchestra', which was basically an exclusive group of highly talented string musicians into which I gained membership solely based on my older brother's legacy of musical reputation when he had graduated two years earlier. We had 'events' in which we were invited to play, some around the community, but mostly providing background music for Brighton High School teachers' functions throughout the year. Because the purpose was mainly to take up as much time as possible, we always ended up playing Eine Kleine Nacht Musik (all four movements), various short pieces (somehow "Ashokan Farewell" managed to make it in there every time) and, of course, Pachelbel's Canon in D.

The two cellists ranted, they raved, they mutinied, they threatened cut time tempos, but in the end were always defeated by the necessity of nine minutes of music as they slowly sawed their way through 54 repetitions of 8 quarter notes, while we violinists and violists gleefully canoned above them.

Annie S. and John O., this clip is for you.

*many eternal thanks to JC for sending me this link. You are my new website hero.

Is it the wontons? The egg rolls? The rice?

2007-02-27T09:20:00.002-05:00

There are so many benefits to living on the East coast. The autumn colors, the diversity, the scholastic opportunities, Wegmans... the list goes on and on. One thing I love is the close proximity of so many great cities all within a day's reach.

A trip to NYC had been on my roster for months and months. I've only been thrice in my entire existence (NY state driver's license not withstanding!), so a few weeks ago I suddenly decided that this was it; I was GOING to New York no matter what else came up, so help me God. A whirlwind day trip ensued, starting with arising at 2 am to catch the 2:30 Chinatown bus... and that was the most organized part of it.

I have been promising to post these pictures for those involved. In honor of the cold spell that gripped our city of Washington for two whole weeks, I want you to FEEL cold when you look at these; it was approximately 21 degrees the entire day, with a wind chill factor of like -12. Fun as the day was, two words can sum up our entire experience: Frickin' FREEZING.

The day started out arriving at NYC at 7:30 am, bright eyed, bushy tailed, ready and rarin' to go...
We soon discovered the folly of walking some ridiculous number of blocks in the early frigid weather. We stopped at Ground Zero and took Broadway down to its southernmost tip. By the time we reached Battery Park we were ready to enjoy some heat.
Seeing the Statue of Liberty, I had to pause to take a picture, but that didn't keep me from nearly getting blown away...
We decided we had exactly ten minutes to run off the ferry, touch the Statue, take a picture and get back on. It was way too cold to do anything else. Behold, the first of EQP's self-portraits:
How's the weather, jr?
When we got back to shore we found a statue with the Statue of Liberty poem inscripted at its base. "Give me... your huddled masses..." and we decided to recreate our own.
Lunch at the Some Glamorous Cafe (?) was followed by a delightful Broadway romp through 1950's campy glamour of musicals of old, The Drowsy Chaperone. I highly recommend it simply for the brief diversion in the middle, a song that starts out with the line "What is it about the Asians that fascinate Caucasians? Is it the wontons, the egg rolls, the rice?" My answer? Yes.
EQP's self-portraits improved steadily throughout the day, culimating in my favorite at Times Square. "What an amazing camera to get such a wide angle shot!" you may exclaim. Indeed it is an amazing camera, and shameless advertising abounds if you check out the billboard directly above EQP's head; it's the Kodak EasyShare v570 and it's pretty hot.

My attempts failed miserably at Rockerfeller Center. Should have left it up to the experts.
Dinner in Little Italy was followed by a harrowing half hour sprint through the streets of Chinatown trying to find access to our bus back home. Exhausted and sweaty (for the first time all day) we finally made it home past midnight.
What's the craziest trip you've ever taken? If you can beat my freshman male friends' squashing seven guys into a Geo Prism (two being over 6'5") overnight to drive from Provo to Wyoming simply to have breakfast and come back, I'll think up some awesome prize for you.

Some questions that have not once been uttered:

2007-02-20T22:13:00.000-05:00

Dave, the guys and I are gonna go paint pottery, wanna come?
Fresno anyone?
You think that "Hang in There" kitten poster is what saved his life?
Meet me for drinks at the toll booth plaza?
Why not mauve?
Could I get "Pipe Fitters Local 107" stitched in a pillow please?
Dude, check out that elementary school cafeteria worker-has milk done that body good or what?

I'm a Taiwanese Expat...?

2007-02-14T17:59:00.000-05:00

How do I feel about this?? And why do I have a semi-Irish last name...

The Night of Sevens!

2007-02-13T22:10:00.000-05:00

Who knew that the Census Bureau would be such a veritable wealth of information? One day last week whilst walking back from some now-unremembered trek, I stumbled upon a bulletin board literally festooned with Valentine's Day decorations. One prominent article was Wikipedia's humble offering of the history of February 14th and all its world-wide implications. An auspicious link at the bottom also took me to a page solely dedicated to Chinese Valentine's Day. Who knew I'm supposed to refine my melon carving skills for the seventh day of the seventh lunar month? I'd better start practicing!!

To interactively celebrate this holiday, I'd like to commemorate the one-year anniversary of our apartment family home evening Valentine's activity of 2006, where a surprising twenty-plus people showed up and were handed the following questionnaire, to which I now copy and paste and ask you to fill out the same (if you dare...!) Since I never had a chance to actually read mine aloud (prizes were given to the best crush and best descriptions) I thought I'd redeem myself now. Forgive me the past 360 days of ineptitude...

YOUR FAVORITE CRUSH

What was your crush’s name? (optional, but c’mon, are they really going to find out?)

Jon. His last name I must refrain from mentioning for I still run into him from time to time and fear that if I DO publish on the Internet it'll come up the next time his name is googled (and he's quite accomplished...)

How old were you (and how old was he/she)?

I was in seventh grade and he in eighth.

How long did the crush last?

Um. Can a crush be continually ongoing? :)

How did you meet?

We were in orchestra together. Oh, Mrs. Stott and Mrs. Guth, pinnacles of my stringed career...

What did you love about your crush?

What WASN'T there to love? The fact that he was an amazingly accomplished violist, combined with his academic feats which consistently won public acclaim and his beautiful smile and sense of humor and musicality... yeah.

What color were his/her eyes? (how closely were you really paying attention?)

Okay, maybe I wasn't paying that close attention. I think they were blue.

Did someone rat you out, or did your crush ever find out?

Probably not. EVERYONE was in love with Jon. It would have been useless to proclaim undying affection, like trying to get Brad Pitt to love you.

Any embarrassing encounters with your crush?

I don't think so. We were actually pretty good friends and he came to my annual pool party regularly, along with his twin brother and younger brother of 15 months... quite a trio.

When did you realize you were truly ‘in love’?

Eh, I can't say I was ever truly in love, BUT I'm keeping this question in for the REST OF YOU to answer...

And finally… Where is your crush now?

So one day in a moment of weakness last year I googled him, and found several references to his currently playing in the Boston Symphony. This was after he graduated with a chemistry degree at Princeton with honors to study viola performance at the New England Conservatory because he simply felt that music was more his calling than science. Overachiever indeed.

Okay folks. Your turn. Fess up and no holding back!

You're the best around

2007-02-06T17:32:00.000-05:00

I know you've all been dying, positively dying to know what our favorite Karate Kid has been up to these days. Well, salivate no more!

That is all I have today. It's almost too much.

All rise, all rise...

2007-02-05T12:19:00.000-05:00

As I referenced last week, one of my lifetime firsts this year was attending traffic court. It was a fascinating experience; there were about 75 of us that were herded into a courtroom (‘just like the movies’) where we then sat, no cellphones, no newspapers, no anything allowed; just sat and waited for our turn to rise and face the judge.

The session started off with the more serious offenses; most of the defendants had lawyers to represent them. I was terrified, thinking that I was supposed to have called a lawyer to represent my case. It was so much safer that way; you stood and approached the judge but someone else did all the talking for you. The rules and regulations of court were unfamiliar to me and I was afraid that I would botch it up if I had to speak for myself. I shortly came to realize that lawyers were only for the more serious offenses (drunk driving, etc.) and that minor reports such as running red lights or wrong turns were left up to the defendant to explain themselves.

As I carefully formulated my defensive speech in my head (debating whether using the word ‘infarction’ would give off an attitude of facetiousness) I watched the proceedings with interest, thinking on how the scene represented our mortal lives. One day we will be called before the Eternal Judge and required to give an account of our life proceedings. How will we face Him on that day? For what sins will we be cited? I watched the lawyers who represented their clients and wondered if that was how it would be when we are called and Christ stands up to represent us. The defendants were obviously nervous but trusted that their lawyers knew exactly how to speak on their behalf. How will my conscience feel on that day, knowing that He is my celestial 'lawyer' and will defend my every mortal action?

We were all there for violations, at least of that we all shared the same guilt. So it is with eternal court, we all have sinned and none of us are exempt. What sort of attitudes will we take with us on that judgment day? The rich, the powerful, they will want their legal backing, they will want their mortal status to give them special treatment. The criminals, the abusive, they will use their moral compromises and life circumstances to justify their actions. As I approached the bench, I did not hope for extraneous mercy nor expect anything less than justice. If they fined me then I deserved it; I would have given my full and honest testimony and that is what for which I am accountable. My only true fear when my name was called (pronounced surprisingly correctly) was that I would drop my purse or trip over my coat on the way to the bench. It’s happened before.

The ironic part was when I finally made it to the bench (purse and coat intact), the only motion the judge made was for me to turn around and face the court (which flustered me; nobody ELSE had to do that!) and ask if anyone in the court had a suit to file against me. When nobody volunteered (most people averting their eyes, others gazing at me with sympathy at the social discomfort of facing a room full of strangers), the judge told me I was free to go. ???

Apparently my ‘failure to yield’ ticket was contingent only upon the other party’s desire to file a suit. Otherwise all charges are dropped and I still have a clean driving record. I was almost indignant, not having had the chance to dazzle the court with my superior public speaking skills, but my desire to leave the courtroom before my allotted three hours’ parking expired (in fifteen minutes), not to mention the tidal wave of relief of not having to publicly humiliate myself one nanosecond longer than absolutely necessary, superseded that urge. I hurried back out into the cold winter morning, a clean driver still. I made sure I stayed well within the speed limit all the way home.

A year of firsts...

2007-01-30T07:55:00.000-05:00

January is drawing to a close and I look back with amazement at all that has and can transpire in the space of thirty days. Last summer I was bored with my life and looking for change. Be careful what you wish for; change came zooming around the corner and smashed into my life with the force of whatever types of aircrafts inspired the new-age Air Force Memorial. Not all of it was bad; most of it great and all of it very exciting, whether it be in the positive happy way or a more literal definition.

One thing I can say for certain, however, is that 2007 will definitely be a great year, if this first month has been any indication. Already I have compiled a list of things I've never done before, although I do admit that many of them I would rather not have to do again...

I hereby declare that in the past thirty days (and I will include the end of December within a 14 day margin of error to add a bit of drama) I had never until now:

had my car totaled, or been in any car that has been totaled
been issued a ticket (I didn't even realize it was a ticket until someone else pointed it out)
purchased a new car (as I'd been driving my baby since I was 16)
changed my driver's license since its inception at age 16 in Rochester, NY
attended traffic court, or any court of that kind (an experience in an of itself, but best summarized by the kindly avuncular (thanks Mr. Striptease for that new vocabulary word) officer standing outside who assured me, "don't worry honey, it's just like the movies")
gotten personalized license plates (to be obtained this week or next... stay tuned for the winner)
ordered pizza on the phone (yes, that's right, I survived college without ordering pizza. I ordered a lot of Chinese and Thai takeout though... I had to eat something)
lived in a master bedroom and--
had my own bathroom (woo!! Come soak in my new jacuzzi tub!)
seen so many people show up to help us move as I did last Saturday. A HUGE SHOUT OUT THANK YOU to everyone who came and made the experience somewhat entertaining... I think I lifted a total of about five boxes that day. I haven't felt that loved since I advertised a wonton party bash before I left on my mission in 2001.

I realize now as I look at the things I did that were mostly forced upon me, and with new attitude looking forward to things to come, that one of the greatest lessons I've learned this past month can be summed up in the following question that I now pose to you:

What would you do if you weren't afraid?

I Heart Gmail

2007-01-18T08:38:00.000-05:00

I would like to share my testimony of Gmail. It has a cool name, it has a cute red icon, it gives you 1G of free email space (which had Hotmail and Yahoo scrambling to keep up), it tabs your conversations so when you send those useless silly emails to your friends and they send useless silly ones back, it only shows up once in your mailbox instead of twelve "Re: I'M BORED! PANDER TO ME!" that you delete because you feel guilty for your mindless torpor. It has the coveted Google search function that allows you to find any email regarding "Thai New York refrigerator" in it, and best of all, it has a built-in chat with cute picture function and status message that allows you to contact those people you only email twice a year and thus feel better about yourself and your long-distance relationships.

That of course isn't to say it doesn't have its pitfalls. You can't actually sort your emails into folders, you can only 'label' them and there are no sub-labels. Occasionally I've Googled an email subject, only to have the four hundred tabbed conversations I had about it come up and then I have to sift through to find what I'm looking for. Their chat is fantastic but the option of having multiple people talk at once (chat party!!!) is still waiting to emerge. I still don't understand why you have to 'invite' people to Gmail (since it seems that everyone's on the bandwagon these days) and they have been in "Beta" mode far too long. Just suck it up and take responsibility for your program!!

I'm sure those of you who have Gmail already know everything I've mentioned. However, there is an undiscovered gem that perhaps is not as obvious. Everyone knows that free internet email programs come with spam. There are spam messages, spam ads, spam banners, spam for dinner... you learn to automatically ignore it all.

But NOT GMAIL! Have you noticed that when you open up an email, the spam (...or so you thought!!) on the right hand side are actually websites and advertisements for what Google considers to be related to your topic of conversation?? That's how they make their money; they are paid to use their infamous Google search engine to show you (the potential consumer) products for people that are paying them money to hawk their wares. It's fascinating to see what Google considers your emails to be about. Some make sense; you talk about moving, they pull up links for U-haul. You talk about furniture, they give you links to warehouses. Sometimes, though, you just have to wonder which key words are being fed into that mysterious search engine, although it provides veritable seconds (and maybe even minutes) of unintentional amusement.

An example: I was one of the few chosen ones to be a poster flyer for Guster. This means they send me Guster posters (attention: shameless hawk for Guster, coming to Washington D.C. on TWO nights, Feb. 28th AND March 1st! Mason Jennings opening and promising to be an AWESOME SHOW!!!) and I stick them up around town.

The email:

I wanna be a flyer poster! Please?
(and then my name and mailing address, which I'm suppressing for online privacy... especially because the mailing address isn't currently my own, as I'm moving in a week)

Their response:

Thanks for volunteering. You will receive a package of posters soon. If you haven't done promotion for us before, here are some tips: Hang the posters wherever you think Guster fans will see them. Telephone poles, etc, are good places, but the best are things like school bulletin boards, music stores, or coffee shops--places where the posters are less likely to be torn down. Just be sure to ask the manager for permission first.

Write back to this address (poster@guster.com) if you have any questions.

-Liz @ Guster

And Gmail's advertisement pull:

Thunderpants boxer shorts
Great gifts for blokes with guts King Pong, Lord of the Ring, more
www.thunderpants.com.au

The Party Potty
Potty Training w/Targeting System We aim to Train
thepartypotty.com

Riiiight. Not sure where they're coming from this time, but I did like seeing the boxer shorts for blokes with guts...

Check your Gmail. Check it frequently. And next time, check to see what they are subliminally trying to sell you... you just might give in to a party potty!!

It runs in the family...

2007-01-10T13:59:00.000-05:00

If you ever shake you head and wonder how it is some people always end up seeming to do *those* things that you never would, read the following Keng drama for your afternoon enjoyment (reprinted with permission from the Kengling):

Hi Jennifer,

So I accidentally flushed my phone down the toilet in the Chicago Airport. I was going to the bathroom like a good little girl before my flight boarded, and as I was standing up and turning around to see if the toilet was flushing correctly (since it was an automatic flushing toilet), my phone flew out of my Gap hoodie pocket and right into the swirling water just as it finished flushing. I had about half a second to process that the electronic light coming from the toilet bowl as my precious baby phone, and then it was gone. I think I freaked out for a good half an hour, and then I thought, y'know what, it's just a phone. All the numbers that I really need to get, I can still get them.

Hopefully I'll be able to get a working phone on Monday. Anyway, just wanted to let you know in case you try to call. In the meantime, there's always EMAIL!!! :) :) :)

What's one of *those* silliest things you've ever done? Myself, I have never been guilty of any such infarcations...

P.S. Thanks for the outpouring of input for Her Royal Highness. Tags should be got by the beginning of February (depending on my apartment excavation and relocation) and the final decision will be made then...

S8TN H8TR? KNGSTR?

2007-01-01T01:48:00.000-05:00

Happy 2007 everyone!! I hope the new year's resolutions remain resolute and that 2007 (unfortunately not a prime number, even though for all intensive purposes it seems like it should...?! Divisible by 3 my bum...), the year of the Pig, truly is a year of wanton gluttony and fat contented happiness. Would that we all had such aspirations.

So due to a series of unfortunate recent events, I now have in my possession a new automobile to replace My Baby of yore. Her Royal Highness now needs to be registered in Virginia, and so with the veritable plethora of license plate choices and the cheap fees by which said 'vanity plates' are, the option of personalizing my own tags (as they strangely call license plates here down south) has arisen. I therefore send out a plea, cause I just can't think of anything cool myself to put on a license plate. Winner will have the honor of seeing their tag on Her Royal Highness' rear end (and front end) forever and ever. What greater glory can there possibly be?

The soft glow of electric sex gleaming through the window...

2006-12-19T08:42:00.000-05:00

...not MY window, but now I have your attention, right?

Sorry for the hiatus; it's the end of the semester and I have one final left to go before I can run screaming into the streets and home for the holidays. It's amazing how much stress you think you can handle, how little sleep you think is physically necessary, and then something like your car getting totaled at 6 am on the morning of your 6 am to 9 pm day, your first final, and the day before a 20-page paper and 11-page homework assignment are due to truly stretch your limits and challenge your sanity. My Baby is being taken away to car heaven today. Moment of silence please.

So wanna hear a funny story? My life is full of them. A few weekends ago a few friends excitedly arranged a Christmas Cookie Gala to bake - you guessed it - Christmas cookies and celebrate the upcoming holidays. I said I would be happy to participate, but I had never had the actual experience of baking Christmas cookies as, previously mentioned several times, Asians (and especially Kengs) don't bake. Horrified and filled with pity, said friends promised to make the occasion one to remember. True to form, the weekend was filled with cookies coming out of my ears (not to mention my roommate's annual Christmas cookie plates which filled my own kitchen with hundreds of oatmeal chocolate chip and Rolo delights...) Truly a period of gluttony to remember. I felt sick all weekend (but a good kind of sick).

So yesterday my sister calls and informs me: "SO, Mom, like, has declared that when you come home, we're going to bake Christmas cookies and go caroling. I have no idea why."

If baking one chocolate cake from a box with my mom was a singularly exhausting experience, I cannot begin to fathom what an entire cookie weekend will be like. I'd better remind her to buy some cookie sheets.

On a completely unrelated note (longest. blog. ever.) I, too, love Christmas movies (though Wendi takes the prize again for coolest blog entry) and Elf ranks up among the highest of my favorites. As I was sorting through various Internet sites for proper blogging material, I made a startling discovery:

I realize this picture is tiny and blurry but IMDB has this new thing where it doens't let you copy pictures. ANYWAY, if you are in any way familiar with the movie you know the red elf behind Will Ferrell is the head one in charge of meeting toy quotas. Do you know who he is? Who he truly is?? Here's a hint.

Indeed folks, indeed. Our very own Ralphie makes a guest appearance on another classic Christmas film. I can smugly amalgamate myself into the ranks of A Christmas Story aficionados, having seen the film myself for the very first time last Christmas, in Taiwan of all places. As only Ralphie can fully describe Christmas morning:

We plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice...

... may we all experience such joy this holiday season. :) Happy greetings to you all!

But baby it's cold outside!

2006-12-07T07:09:00.000-05:00

After 36 hours of intense stress and twelve contacts later, I finally have my dataset of 1236 observations of the National Church and Congregation Study of 1998. As my 20 page paper is due next Wednesday by 5 pm, I thought it prudent, yea, even necessary to pause and reflect on the more important aspects of life: Christmas music!

It is now officially acceptable to embrace the carols and jingling and cheesy songs that technically started after Halloween but really are appropriate only after Thanksgiving. Christmas of 2004 was the first time I was able to relax and enjoy the holidays for what they really are, as opposed to simply a break from school.

I love the true spirit that the appropriate music can bring to the holiday season. There is something special about beautiful songs that are tucked away for the one special time of year, and while the classics will never die, I get a kick out of the remakes done by my favorite artists.

In no particular order:

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Jack Johnson
What Child is This, Sarah McLachlan
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Chris Martin of Coldplay
Silent Night, Boyz II Men
Donde Esta Santa Claus?, Guster
O Holy Night, Josh Groban
You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, Bing Crosby
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Barenaked Ladies
Baby It's Cold Outside, Leon Redbone, Zooey Deschanel

I could go on and on and on and on.... what are some of your favorites??

This is the best game ever!

2006-12-04T22:01:00.000-05:00

Wow, two posts in one day. Can you handle the excitement?

I have EQP's permission to post this. What the video doesn't show is the powdered sugar spraying all over the car of his neighbor downstairs, inspiring an impromptu Mormon carwash at 10 pm.

Taking one for the team...

2006-12-04T21:39:00.000-05:00

The masses are complaining, so I give you this to amply occupy your time until I find something more interesting to talk about. (and write my 15-20 page paper and study for three finals...) Yes, blatantly stolen from someone else's post (I love salsa too!), it's as addicting as Cool Ranch Doritos. You draw a slope and then our little friend Scamper sleds down, to his peril or his delight, whichever you choose. Hours will be wasted, I guarantee it.

Happy Christmas!

Can I be Sacagawea please?

2006-11-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope the turkey-induced torpor bodes well for all of your metabolisms. Myself, I am planning on sleeping off mass quantities of boiled beef and fish balls. Yum.

Thanks to all sympathy and empathy (and flowers) elicited from my last post; I sincerely was not foraging for pity whatsoever, it just made for an entertaining story... but the kindness from all of you has not gone unnoticed.

It is currently approximately 2:53 pm on Thanksgiving day; my mother has been up since the crack of dawn preparing the ingredients for tonight's hot pot (huo guo) of which I have pontificated of yore. My offers of help were overlooked, as my cutting, slicing, and raw animal preparing skills simply do not hold a match (even with a pointer) to my mom's. However, she mentioned that dessert would be a chocolate Bundt ("you fixed it!") cake with all sorts of amendments to the recipe... my Kengs-can't-bake radar immediately wailed, loud and clear, and I politely questioned if she had tested said recipe in the past. She replied that it was a recipe from a trusted friend (who can bake) and so I relaxed.

As I turned the oven on to pre-heat, I was reminded to check it for miscellaneous objects, since in the Keng household, our oven has always been used as extra storage space. There were indeed several foil pans happily heating, but luckily no plastic plates that melted into the heating coils like *last* time... The cake was dutifully measured, mixed, and meted out into said Bundt pan (I'm sorry, but I just hate Bundt pans) and put into the oven. Three minutes later Mama Keng came screaming back into the kitchen, something about forgetting the raisins and the walnuts... I obediently removed the cake pan from the oven (gingerly, as my burns are still healing) and added handfuls of raisins from the Costco-sized bag and she chopped up the walnuts. As I was putting the cake back into the oven she exclaimed "I have LOTS of raisins!!" (c'mon, you know it's coming: "it's got raisins in it... you like raisins!") and approached said Bundt pan menacingly with two enormous handfuls. I mercifully prevented the addition, reminding her "less is more" (thanks Cabeza, for that baking tip) to which she responded "Chinese say more is better!!" We compromised by allowing her to throw in a token five extra raisins.

She then triumphantly pulled out some baking chocolate that is who-knows-how old and announced she was going to melt it and then make chocolate glaze... then turned to me and asked "so how you make chocolate melt?" I patiently explained, as far as I knew, the best way was to put it in a pan in another pan of water, double boiler style... right? I'm only going off of secondhand information from my culinary cohorts. Since the chocolate was unsweetened, I did a quick Internet research to see what else was needed. Powdered sugar, butter, and corn syrup. I went back into the kitchen and asked (knowing the answer): "Mom, do you have any corn syrup?" to which she blankly stared and replied "I have maple syrup. Is that the same?"

At least she didn't ask to substitute molasses.

I am truly my mother's daughter. It is genetic. And I'll let you know how it turns out.

Asian Keng and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend

2006-11-14T15:28:00.000-05:00

Simply because I have nothing of intellectual interest to post, it's been a week since my last one (and readers are clamoring), and also because I really do have a cornucopia of material, I hereby publish my Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Weekend.

Saturday morning I had signed up for a housing loan program, to last all morning, held downtown. I had a long list of materials I had to bring, not the least of which included old bank statements, W2 forms, tax papers, pay stubs, copies of my social security card and driver's license, etc. The workshop started at 9 and so I woke up at 7:30 to give myself plenty of time... only to realize that I had consolidated all of said materials in a folder, nicely organized and labeled... and left at work. I scrambled trying to find copies of said forms online (no go) and a way to copy my social security card and driver's license (thanks, Jo) and printed out what I could. Cranky and breakfast-less, I cruised along following my Mapquest directions, only to miss the 295 south exit and get myself entangled in southeast DC. Not a great idea. A few harrowing moments later I found myself in the appropriate spot. It was a non-profit organization and bless their hearts, we were forced to sit on flimsy plastic folding chairs (the precarious Ikea kind) for three hours, the first of which was spent waiting in line to sign up for a personal consultment to actually apply for the loan. Which means Monday November 20, I have to go back. Hour two was spent listening to a great evangelical loan officer talk about how important it was to pay bills on time, and the third a rapper wannabe real estate agent talk about "it's a buyer's market yo, a buyer's market..."

My morning wasted, I hurried to the supermarket to buy groceries for dinner I was making that night. I found a sweet parking spot by the door and was even offered barbecued pork chop samples on my way in (gotta love a brand new megastore's marketing ploys) and soon made my way back out. As my car was on quite a slant, I was forced to hook my hand through my cart to load my groceries. Around me waited three cars stalking my spot and pinning me in, and in a hurry to finish I flung the cart away from me as I shut the trunk... with my fingers still entwined. I seriously thought I had broken my thumb. Luckily I didn't, but it is still quite blue and swollen. Thank heavens for opposable digits.

The afternoon was spent running errands and purchasing all sorts of sundry items, leaving the dinner-making time a little short before the spectacular stake production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat that night (thank you, Cabeza, for a highly entertaining five minutes). I made a casserole of sorts, and during cleanup I grabbed a frying pan I had left on the stove. The heat radiating from the 400 degree oven, however, had saturated the pan and burned the inside of my hand from stove to sink. 45 minutes later as I went to remove said casserole from oven, the very same hand hit the rack and I now have a one-inch welt that most likely is never going to go away. It is pustulating as I type. I mourn the loss of my perfect right handed skin.

Joseph was great though.

Sunday is our usual Sabbath and I had a few girls coming over after church for a small 'visiting teaching' gathering. That morning I got up super early to re-attempt my delicious chocolate chip pumpkin muffins and continue my baking streak. That afternoon post-church the muffins went in the oven... and the ensuing lively conversation drew me away and consequently burned them. No matter, I had only time to rush off to choir practice for our annual Washington DC Interfaith Concert, and then rush home again to prepare for the huge "International Dinner", with delectable dishes from all over the globe trotted out in full glory. I whipped up my infamous "Spicy Tofu Delight" and on my way out the door was interrupted by a phone call "Have you left yet? We're having a birthday candle emergency. Bring birthday candles. Oh, and matches." Back inside for birthday candles. And matches. Second attempt out the door -- "Have you left yet? We're out of plates! Bring paper plates!!" Third attempt out the door and seriously late this time. Upon reaching my destination I realized the dish had leaked all over my passenger front seat (when will I learn to put my food on the floor?), but no time, the dish was hurried inside. And they had plenty of plates.

Oh, it's not over yet.

Monday morning I got in my car to run my various errands, and discovered that not only had the dish leaked on the passenger side, but apparently when I lifted it up to ascertain the damage (it was dark and windy and rainy the night before), it had sprayed (literally, sprayed) ALL over the driver's side, and consequently all over my pants. Bright. Orange. Chili. Oil. All over my driver's side. With a sigh of resignation I told myself I would find a car shampoo... sometime. Morning errands run, I drove to the metro to go to school. As I perused the aisles looking for a spot, I found one squeezed inbetween a Toyota Corolla and a ginormous van. As the spots were labeled "COMPACT" I seriously doubted the validity of the van's self-actualization as a normal sized vehicle, much less compact. As I pondered the conundrum, eyes on the van, turning into the spot, I completely crashed into the Corolla and took off a chunk of its bumper.

Yep.

My conscience would not let me simply drive away, so I left a sheepish note with my phone number; the owner of the car was surprisingly prompt in returning the call with the ominous phrase of "I'll take it into the body shop and get an estimate and let you know how much it will be..."

And this takes us to Tuesday. Please, please, please let this be a better week... I am about to attempt a drive through downtown DC. Let the fates be with me I implore...

...So what's the terriblist, horriblist, baddest, worst day you've ever had?

T-minus one month and counting!

2006-11-08T22:33:00.000-05:00

Yes folks, I don't know about society out there, but I mark Thanksgiving as the official start of the holidays (as opposed to Halloween, or Columbus Day, or whatever it is to which they keep pushing back...) I love Thanksgiving because it's like the precursor to the 'real' holiday break, a temptation, if you will, to lure you into the festivities and charitable acts that abound when the snow falls and the bells jingle, and the glorious one week off (for us BYU-bies) of school. Plus, it's all about the food. Really.

So growing up (again, bi-cultural), my Thanksgiving memories are probably somewhat different from the so-called 'traditional' activities. Our family would gather with a bunch of other Taiwanese families in the community, always at the Changs' house. A turkey would be dutifully roasted and the electric knife brought out, dusty and boxed, for the once-a-year activity. There would be some sort of stuffing and/or vegetable... but alongside those was the stir-fried rice noodles my mom always brought, as well as various other sundry Asian dishes. Those stay in my memory far longer than any dry white non-flighty bird ever will. And the strange fact that Home Alone was on television every single year... couldn't they think of a better holiday movie??

After I moved to DC I got to go home again for Thanksgiving for the first time since approximately 1997. These days we celebrate with "huo guo", a traditional Taiwanese feast usually reserved for Chinese New Year, in which various raw items (including live, wriggling shrimp when I lived in Taiwan) are throw into a communal pot of boiling water and consumed with vast amounts of Chinese barbecue sauce. Last time I requested it, my dad noted "oh good. I hate turkey." All these years... suffering in silence...

So as non-kosher as my family traditions are, I pose to you: what is your favorite part about Thanksgiving?

A Tribute

2006-11-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

As some of you have been wondering (well okay, just Wendi), I do have a spawn. Indeed, I technically have three; we missionaries sometimes have the privilege of 'training' new missionaries that come to our area of service (being their first mission companions) and thus are labeled, among other things, "mom", "dad", and they in turn our "greenie", etc.

My first greenie was an angel, a veritable blue-eyed, blond haired cherub with gleaming white teeth and a perky sunny disposition that would challenge Elle Woods any day (but y'know, more wholesome...) It was a warm, fuzzy six weeks. My next greenie came to me at six feet tall, long dark hair, and a tracting personality exactly like unto Wednesday Addams (Spawn, if you're reading this, you know I'm right. The end.) Our relationship was cemented on our first night when we passed a barbecue stand and she exclaimed "They have SQUID?" If I can find the picture of us with the tentacles hanging out of our mouths I'll be sure to post it.

Gosh, I went through this whole post of writing up my favorite story and then realized I had already published it. Talk about blogging faux pas! So anyway, if you're curious as to what my Saving Spawn looks like, see below picture of her summer trip to Ghana to save the children. She's the coolest person I know. I'm proud to list her as one of my progeny.

So I know I'm asking a stratified sample of you readers out there, but what's your favorite mission adventure?

(and yes, Handsome Rob, if you are reading this you'll recognize this story cut and pasted from my email... but it was a great story, eh? How bout your purple marker monkey one??)

Fifth time's the charm!

2006-11-06T11:43:00.000-05:00

I just had to publicly announce that I attempted the "Decadent Blonde Brownies" again last night for the fifth time. I followed the entire recipe to a tee (except for the chocolate, seeing as I had no chips... but four bars of random chocolate mashed into pieces work, right? There was Ukranian chocolate in there too... but we taste tested it first to make sure it didn't give off molasses-scented aromas...); no lemon juice, no molasses, no extra salt. Nothing but recipe.

33 minutes later (25-30 my bum...), perfect brownies. I am redeemed.

That is all.

Quoth the raven - Eat my shorts!

2006-10-31T10:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween all!! In keeping with tradition of the annual pumpkin carving contest, I humbly submit the following:

I self-proclaimed me as the winner of my pumpkin carving contest... though since there was no actual contest except between me, myself, and I, the competition was minimal. Guess which one was mine? Cause you know, you gotta have blue hair...

Of course, no Halloween is complete without a showing of Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin... though the Simpson's first Halloween special made a cameo as well. As did my very first attempt at chocolate chip pumpkin muffins, sans molasses and lemon juice.

What's the coolest pumpkin you've ever carved??

Never mock the cookie

2006-10-27T18:08:00.000-04:00

I was watching Mulan on the Disney channel (there are some movies I simply cannot ever pass up when they're on TV) when a commercial for Jackie Chan Adventures came on:

I myself have never heard of this show, but the commercial showed a girl reading a fortune cookie ("danger looms in your future?"), Jackie mocking it ("you listen to fortune cookie?!"), and all consequent pandemonium breaking loose, with the crotchety uncle concluding with the phrase "never mock the cookie" in solemn Asian tones.

Now, I know that nowadays most fortune cookie 'fortunes' are not that at all, but more commentary on your love life ("You are happy and content and make those around you smile"), but what's the coolest fortune you've ever gotten?

(And we all know that fortune cookies originated in San Francisco, not China, yes...?)

Last of the red hot mamas

2006-10-19T12:57:00.000-04:00

Yesterday our office went out for one of our many lunch field trips to my favorite Suitland restaurant, Topolini's. They have amazing mushy baby carrots, and you wouldn't think that phrase was in any way scintillating until you've had them. The restaurant is a buffet that regularly draws in large groups from various local services, mainly the Bolling Air Force Base and ravenous Census employees.

As we were waiting in the usual melee for food, I noticed a cluster of chronologically enhanced women by the front door, all wearing bright purple dresses/suits and large cherry red fedoras. I watched them for a few minutes, wondering what sort of fund-raising activity would require such questionable attire. I finally pointed them out to my coworkers and vocalized said question, upon which one brightly replied "Oh, I think that's the Red Hat Society!"

....???? When I pursued the topic further, she paused, saying "I don't know much about it... I think it's a bunch of old women who wear red hats and purple dresses and just get together every now and then..." With her hesitant answer I was hard pressed to believe she didn't just make that up on the spot, seeing as those two factors were painfully obvious. She then insisted it was a bona fide group, to which I vowed I would Google upon my office return.

Indeed, my friends, indeed, the Red Hat Society, founded in 1998 by Sue Ellen Cooper, the society's Queen Mother. Queen Mother?! Can this get any better? YES. Their motto:

"The Red Hat Society began as a result of a few women deciding to greet middle age with verve, humor and elan. We believe silliness is the comedy relief of life, and since we are all in it together, we might as well join red-gloved hands and go for the gusto together. Underneath the frivolity, we share a bond of affection, forged by common life experiences and a genuine enthusiasm for wherever life takes us next."

Anyone who approaches anything with elan wins huge points in my book. I noticed at one point that one of the women, who had to be in her 70's, was not only donning the fedora and bright purple suit, but a long fluffy, feathery red boa. Incredible. I have now determined that on the stroke of June 17, 2030, I am putting on my red boa (which will be worn and ratty with years of long use anyway) and fedora and reciting the Red Hat Society creed.

I also determined that since it is apparently so easy to start up an immensely popular "dis-organization" that I must do so immediately. What shall it be, comrades, what shall it be??!??!?

*note: According to Wikipediality, the Red Hat Society was even a basis for episode 7 of the 17th season of the Simpsons, and hence the title of this blog...

I said, if the boot-ah FITS!

2006-10-13T17:07:00.000-04:00

In an unprecedented procrastination undertaking to avoid studying for my Cognitive Psychology midterm next week (worth a mere 40% of my grade), I have scrubbed the bathroom, bleached the kitchen, excavated the microwave from its eras of crust, done three loads of laundry, planned out the overhaul of my bedroom (haven't quite gotten there yet, had to take a break after the bleach stung every open pore of my upper limbs)...but the best part was this morning.

I have a shopping motto that goes something like this: If, in two weeks, you are still dreaming about it, go back and buy it. I have applied it in many an occasion, and, thankfully, used it more than once to prevent untimely and useless purchases as well.

Well, I had been eyeing a pair of shoes online for months, and finally decided to cave in and buy them. Zappos.com and shoes.com both had them, but not in my size. Both being the ultimate gurus of shoe sources, I reluctantly purchased a size up and awaited their arrival. Upon trying them on, cute as they were and no matter how hard I tried, I simply could not convince myself that they were going to fit well. It was only then, after a massive Google search, that I discovered jcpenney.com had them as well. The dilemma then arose of whether it was worth it to pay shipping costs to mail them back, shipping costs for the other pair, and apparently sales tax on top of that. After much debate with all my girlfriends (guys, I know you just don't have these experiences... and if you do, then I worry...), the conclusion was made (yea, and even likened unto Madonna's 'Express Yourself' theory of "don't settle for second best baby...") that it was worth it.

This morning I hopped online to purchase said shoes, only to discover that somehow between last night and this morning the shipping costs had jumped from $3.50 to $7.50. Four dollars is a moot point, but a tipping one in my case, and I finally decided to go out on a whim and make the trek down to JCPenney (inconveniently located right in the middle of DC's Mixing Bowl portion of 495/395, accesible only between the hours of 11-2 without it taking hours) and see if they had them there. My theory was that normally stores don't carry online merchandise, but I had to clear my conscience.

After several wrong turns and a detour through the salon (d-fi gel on clearance! Yes!!!), I arrived in the women's shoe department... to discover that not ONLY did they have the shoes, on display (in my size, even! I didn't have to track some shoe person down to fetch them), but 37.5% cheaper than I had bought them online.

Joy, rapture, bliss, etc. etc. etc. For those of you who raise an eyebrow and think, why didn't I just check JCPenney in the first place, I say unto you: it wasn't just the shoes themselves. It was the 37.5% discount that made my day. I am a true woman.

What's the best shopping deal you've ever found??

Help me out here?

2006-10-11T22:05:00.000-04:00

My roommate and I saw this the other day and it immediately sparked a debate:

(sorry, the quality isn't great)

So, if it was you, would you be more angry at your significant other, or your good friend for cheating with your significant other on you?? Discuss.

Favorite Fall Fancies!

2006-10-10T10:30:00.000-04:00

Okay, so last week my roommate made me open the bottle of molasses (it still had the seal on it and everything) and smell it, so I would know why I caused such an uproar when I likened it unto vanilla. Yes. It was gross... something akin to tar mixed with sap. Mixed with festering rot. And with the vicsocity of ectoplasm. I have learned my lesson.

With the onset of October, I feel the need to express my joy and delight in my favorite season of the year. As such, I am compiling a List of Happiness (in a randomly generated order: starting seed of 1349, for those of you who care... or know what I'm talking about...):

Apple pies baked by My Lovely Roommate
The drive down GW Parkway (well, the drive going up is nice too, but coming down means I'm going home)
Haunted hayrides (without the haunted part... okay, I guess it would be "hayrides")
Corn mazes (again, without people with chainsaws jumping out at you)
Apple crisp, apple cider, and apple doughnuts - all at the same time
Fall foliage on the East Coast - especially the red leaves
Daylight Savings Time! Fall back one hour!! Extra sleep!!! (though I hate it being dark at 4 pm)
Sweatshirts. I have like forty of them...
Fall bonfires... where the fire actually keeps you nicely warm, instead of broiling you alive during the summer
The smell! You know what I'm talking about...

Okay guys, I know you've got a ton of favorite fancies too... don't be shy!!

A truth universally acknowleged...

2006-10-04T12:28:00.002-04:00

Over the course of my 26 years of mortal existence, I have attempted to master many things. There are, of course, an infinite number of things I haven't mastered, but those are for another day.

From personal experience, I shall venture to proclaim a truth universally acknowleged that Asians don't bake. Now, before you jump to any screaming conclusions, I mean this in a Betty Crocker, thick rich chocolate, gooey sumptuous desserts sort of baking. If you've ever been to Asia, you'll quickly discover that such delectable provenders don't really exist. They would much rather boil their red beans down to a paste and eat it mashed inside sticky buns.

This past weekend I attempted to redeem said failure pertaining to anything measurable in an X by X quantity. (I'd also been bumming my roommates' baked goods for months, and thought I might as well learn to fish instead of just eating it...)

I have, in my possession, a scrumptuous recipe for blond chocolate chip brownies that I have attempted to bake thrice. The first time, due to distractions, my friend baked them up in my stead and they turned out perfectly (he being male the ignominy even more shameful.) The second and third, needless to say: tragic. Being that it has been over a year since the last defeat, I thought I could salvage some means of culinary refinement.

I was under a time limit to get them baking, so I quickly turned on the oven and put some cold butter in the microwave to "soften." The flour, baking powder, and salt were "stirred and set aside"... meanwhile the butter had heated too long and was melting into a puddle. Strike one. I dumped the fatty liquid into the KitchenAid to "whip with sugars until light and fluffy"... and realized I had no vanilla. My Darling Culinary Roommate had taken her real Mexican vanilla with her when she entered connubial bliss three months earlier. The logical step would have been to a) run to the store and get some, b) find an acceptable substitute, c) get over it and move on. Time crunch prevented leaving the apartment, I combed every single kitchen shelf, and I had no idea what the properties of vanilla were to find a subsitute. I therefore called a roommate in a panic, asking such questions as "can I subsitute molasses? (NO!) (in my defense, they are both packed in large dark brown bottles... they LOOK similar!) Maple syrup? (brown and sweet, right?)" She finally convinced me to simply leave it out.

I then tried to put in brown sugar, but seeing how long it had been since my last adventure, mine had calcified into something akin to the Rock of Gibraltar... I resigned myself to stealing said roommate's brown sugar... but upon measuring it out, saw that there were only about two tablespoons left in her bag. Leaving miniscule amounts of food for other people being one of my Pet Peeves, I decided to dump the rest in, and thought I could offset it with a teeny more salt. As I flung upon the cabinet door to grab the salt, a can of something-or-another fell from the top shelf, landing squarely in my bowl of "prestirred" dry ingredients.

*FWWOOOOMPH*

Flour all over the kitchen.

By this time, I couldn't help but giggle at my self-created predicament, flour all over my church clothes, the walls, the refrigerator, the floor... after sweeping it up (marginally) I stared at my somewhat-empty bowl of flour... I have found a quote that accurately describes my mindset:

"The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you've got to have a what-the-hell attitude." --Julia Child

That being said, I meted out approximations of the missing dry ingredients now plastered to the walls, stirred everything else in, and, right before spreading into the pan, decided what the heck, how about some lemon juice?? and poured that in too.

Bad idea.

The brownies baked for 25-30 minutes. Golden brown on top... liquified and gooey on the bottom. Back into the oven for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes more... by now brown and crispy on top... still oozy on the bottom. Tastewise: edible. Brownie-wise: strike #3. I'm out, game over. I'll just stick to wontons (but not wonton soup...)

So I'm sure some of you have had some crazy cooking stories out there... what's the worst thing that ever happened to you in the kitchen?

TUBERCULOSIS

2006-10-03T08:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I fell asleep on the Metro on the way to school (as usual.) When I awoke, I was ocularly accosted with this:

If this isn't a bulbous bouffant, I don't know what is.

World Market is now selling McVitie's Digestives. In milk chocolate and caramel. Run, don't walk and get some now. What are you waiting for?!

Found posted on the graduate office fridge...

2006-09-27T08:08:00.000-04:00

"You haven't told me yet," said Lady Nuttal, "what it is your fiance does for a living." "He's a statistician," replied Lamia, with an annoying sense of being on the defensive.

Lady Nuttal was obviously taken aback. It had not occurred to her that statisticians entered into normal social relationships. The species, she would have surmised, was perpetuated in some collateral manner, like mules. "But Aunt Sara, it's a very interesting profession," said Lamia warmly.

"I don't doubt it," said her aunt, who obviously doubted it very much. "To express anything important in mere figures is so plainly impossible that there must be endless scope for well-paid advice on how to do it. But don't you think that life with a statistician would be rather, shall we say, humdrum?"

Lamia was silent. She felt reluctant to discuss the surprising depth of emotional possibility which she had discovered below Edward's numerical veneer. "It's not the figures themselves," she said finally, "it's what you do with them that matters."
The Undoing of Lamia Gurdleneck, K. A. C. Manderville

I'm not propagating the holiness of statistical study... I just got a kick out of being perpetuated like mules...

Julia Goolia?

2006-09-25T22:41:00.000-04:00

My sophomore year of college, I had a home teacher named *Mike Hennefer. (for those not privy to Mormon lifestyles, a 'home teacher' is a lucky guy assigned to visit you [or your entire apartment] with another lucky guy on a monthly basis to make sure you were alive and see if you needed any heavy boxes moved. Among other things.)

Anyway, Mike was a specimen of true male supremacy, being a defensive linebacker on the BYU football team (and no, I have no idea what a defensive linebacker does, only that this particular one was rather impressive) and being a laconic sort, mostly sat on the couch and looked massive while his companion burbled away. One day after he left, my five roommates gathered around and informed me that I needed to marry him. Having never actually spoken to him directly (his muscles were quite intimidating), I queried why, to be told that "your name would be Jennifer Hennefer! HOW cool is that?!"

I personally could never possibly top Jennifer Hennefer, but I have heard some amazingly unfortunate last names in the past few days that I felt had to be shared with the general public. If ever you rue your given name, just think of poor Mr. Harry Butts of State College, PA, or the even more lamentable Brother Shitler that has yet to find a wife.

As my tenth grade English teacher once wrote of his surname Wiener, after having gone through all possible alternative pronunciations and variations, he concluded with "I'm just happy that I'm not my brother Richard."

So, gentle readers... can you top these names??

*oh look. Yes, he truly does exist. And now when you Google his name you'll find my post under this link... ahh, Internet immortality...

By earnest request...

2006-09-19T21:51:00.000-04:00

All right, all right Mr. Terrill, this one's for you.

AVAST, ye mateys!

2006-09-19T10:02:00.000-04:00

Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day!!!

I cannot even begin to expound on all the virtues of such a national celebration, so I shall simply direct you here for further inspiration. Oh, and here and here, since all my friends have apparently decided that sharing such resources is absolutely imperative...

However, the best quote I've gotten all day (and it's only 9:59 am! Could this day get any better?!) was from a body collector (yes, that means he's in charge of picking up dead bodies and parts thereof, and bringing them to the morgue...) in Detroit:

"My theory? White people kill themselves. Black people kill each other. Chinese people don't die."

How can I deny my immortality??

Pet Peeves Part II

2006-09-13T21:10:00.000-04:00

We'll make this short, as it's not good to dwell on the negative. Don't worry, Favorable Foibles is forthcoming...

orange Flinstones vitamins. They're just disgusting.
'mandatory' installations on my work computer that automatically restart my computer without my permission
cockroaches in the office bathroom. Where is our federal funding going?

Okay, that is all.

For those who *claim* to not have contributed last time due to whatever-constraints... now is your time to speak up!!

Survey wha--?

2006-09-13T20:28:00.000-04:00

Yes, yes... the shackles have bound me to my books, computer, and, of course, blog for creative outlet.

I realize that many of you have had less than savory statistical experiences due to the dryness of the topic, in conjunction with a substandard professor. Not at the Home of the Terps! A few gems heard this past week:

Professor of Data Collection (British chap): "We are, of course, employed in the study of survey sadistics...oh! I mean, I wasn't implying that... well..." (you know I just have to take this one and run...)

Professor of Statistical Methods (Southern chap): "I watched myself teaching on video last week. It was terrible. I haven't lived in Arkansas for 30 years, but I still sound like Billy Bob Thornton..."

Professor of Cognitive Psychology (American chap): "Students at Michigan, you will see me in the flesh next week, where my resemblance to Eric Clapton is even MORE uncanny!!"

So during a few moments of mental wanderings (I know, I know, 3.5 hour long classes, how could my rapturous attentions possibly stray??), I started thinking about my illustrious undergraduate career, and, scintillating though four semesters of straight statistics will be in my continuing quest for "Master Keng", I pined a bit for the "extracurricular" classes I was able to take at BYU.

A few examples:

Fall semester 1998: Introduction to Calligraphy
Fall semester 1999: Beginner Bowling and Intro to Ceramics (headed by a large, portly, sweaty, hairy man in his late 20's, whose first uttered sentence upon entrance was "Fellas, 'Ghost' this ain't!")
Fall semester 2001: Chinese Calligraphy, Bookbinding, and Badminton (highest GPA ever that semester); the best part being the badminton teacher announcing that "the Chinese are historically EXTREMELY talented at badminton", sending all the students edging away from me... until they discovered within the week that I was a racial anomaly.

So my question for the week of September 10: what was the coolest class you ever took (or are now taking)?

Warmest Regards,
Asian Keng
Survey Sadist

Looking forward to my day off...

2006-09-07T23:10:00.000-04:00

I know this may come as a depressing shock, but with the advent of my quest for the title of master, my blogging time capacities have diminished as of late.

However, with the return of scholarly servitude comes the juvenile excitement of once again looking forward to pursuits of higher meaning... new clothes, new school supplies, new friends, new topics of learning.

My favorite part was always the school supplies. Much, much could be said about my passion for all pens colored, for all stationery flowered, for all erasers and rulers and protractors and .05 m pencils and magical pencil cases that hold twenty writing utensils at a time. It must be a genetic thing, as Asians are known for their stationery/bookstore prowess. I went to Target a few weeks ago in eager anticipation of the back-to-school stockup. Did I really need ten one-subject notebooks? Of course not, but did the shrink-wrapped package for $2.75 sell me? That it did.

I have to say though, that the ultimate apex of school coolness was my trusty Mead Trapper Keeper, sixth grade. Oh yeah. I had reached the top.

So, friends, what was (or is) your favorite part of going back to school???

Just a little sumpin sumpin

2006-09-03T22:19:00.000-04:00

To truly prove the ubiquitous existence of such a creature, during a random conversation a week ago, my good friend Colettie mentioned that she had in her posession the following:

Yes, indeed. It really is him. He looks even more orange in real life. Words elude me...

Everyone Loves an Asian Girl

Have A(nother) Dumpling...

Happy 2011!!

Going Hard Copy!!

The Power of the Internet...

Oh where, oh where has my summer time gone...

It's a Pierson Produce Party!

Happy Schmappy Anniversary!

Tribute to John Emerson

Time flies when you're having fun!

I've Been Busy...

Food Tragedies turned...Triumphs?

Attention customers, may I have your attention please...

My Final Masterpiece...

Other Crafty Endeavors

My First Foray Into Entrepreneurialship...

Update...

Facial Carnage...

Food Tragedies...

Being Married, Part 1...

I hold up my head in shame....

Chickpeas or Spinach?

for a second I thought they would be telling my eugugoly...

Google suggestion FAIL

"Folks in Washington don't seem to be able to handle things"

"Stress. It's a killer..."

"Intense Pleasure"...?

Be not afraid...

One Post to Rule Them All...

Citius, Altius, Fortius

I owe you one raunchy strip tease...

Flames... flames, on the sides of my face...

Legend Tells of a Legendary Warrior...

The Shackles of Scholarly Servitude Slacken...

You poor simple fools. Thinking you could defeat me, *me*! The Mistress of All Evil!

I've gone and caught myself a sniffle!

2008: Year of the firsts!!

The World According to Asiankeng...

Show me that smile again...

You know you're a DC (area) native when...

Graced by David Jacobus...

Would you rather...

To blog or not to blog?

And what you wish for could come true...

You were not the same after that!

The best Friday link ever

Last minute desperate plea!!

All hail, Kengling!

A little international culture...

Random Rants

Just the five. Husbands should be like Kleenex: soft, strong, and disposable

Flash! Flash! Flash!

Just duckin around...

I've been using some fruity soaps, Maggie!

One of these things is not like...

Road Trip or Bust, Part II

Road Trip or Bust!!

Summer of sequels!

You sly dog! You got me monologuing!

Asian Keng Clones...

A peepshow...

Youkoso!

To everything there is a season...

Size does matter

Bulletin Bulletin Bulletin

Pachelbel's Rant

Is it the wontons? The egg rolls? The rice?

Some questions that have not once been uttered:

I'm a Taiwanese Expat...?

The Night of Sevens!

You're the best around

All rise, all rise...

A year of firsts...

I Heart Gmail

It runs in the family...

S8TN H8TR? KNGSTR?

The soft glow of electric sex gleaming through the window...

But baby it's cold outside!

This is the best game ever!

Taking one for the team...

You poor simple fools. Thinking you could defeat me, me! The Mistress of All Evil!