Just another manic monday

I was suppose to see this riveting documentary after work. But Tron cancelled on me. For a woman, no less. And no one else seemed interested. I wonder why? For real, why? I think it's a pretty good concept and I'm always interested to see what those wacky Chinese villagers are up to.

So, instead, I ventured to the westside to check out this book reading by Norah Vincent, author of Self-Made Man.

In the book, Norah shares her journey of going undercover as a man for eighteen months. It's kind of like John Howard Griffin's Black Like Me, but unlike Griffin's book which totally confirmed why I hate white people, Norah's book actually exhibits sympathy for men. That's what the audience said anyway. And can I tell you how kooky the audience was! Thank god I had two cocktails at Houstons beforehand, thanks to my buddies Plus, Blu-Tooth and Michael! By the way, why is it so easy to get people to come out for drinks than see a documentary about newly-empowered Chinese villagers with access to modern digital freedom? Fucken drunks.

So back to the audience. Although I was impressed with the diversity of the group, in terms of race, gender and sexual orientation, you could tell most of the folks were academics. And why is it that before an academic asks a question in a public forum, he or she must provide complete disclosure of his/her identity?

I am a middle-class African American lesbian of color born and raised in the melting pot of Los Angeles with an abusive alcoholic father and albino mother and a cat with three legs.

Are you fucken serious? Just ask your stupid question, please. But no.

I was raised as an Orthodox Jew but studied eastern philosophy at a community college and now I perform accupunture on people who are frightened to leave their homes and I find it very rewarding and... oh, I forgot my question.

Then these two ladies get into a heated debate with an obnoxious straight Asian male, a Latino guy, and a gay white man (sounds like I'm starting a joke, huh?) about the differences between hetero-male sexuality and gay-male sexuality. This went on for a while. Poor Norah.

Truth be told, much of it was interesting despite the annoying personalities. Norah made one statement that made me ponder: "The one thing that prevents heterosexual men from freely engaging in polygamous relationships is... the woman." Norah admitted that her statement is an overgeneralization but true in many cases. I've been thinking a lot about monogamy lately and I'm not so sure if it works either, particularly in our day and age when marriage is no longer a necessity of life.

Don't get me wrong. I value partnerships. But why can't you have partnerships with multiple people, especially when it's unlikely that one person will be your everything? Why should you compromise and have less than everything you deserve and desire? Why settle on one person who has only half of everything when two halves make a whole?

You know, four fourths make a whole too.

Gee. Things that make you go hmm.

A little chalk goes a long way

The works of Vija Celmins is showcased at the Armand Hammer Museum between now and April 22, 2007. Her works are mostly graphite (chalk) on acrylic ground on paper and includes exquisite details of her delicate renderings of lunar, ocean, and desert surfaces as well as clouds, galaxies, and nocturnal skies. Her pieces look like black and white photographs. She's that good. It's really amazing live and up-close.

Beware of becoming a garden lady

This morning, Pure White and I volunteered at a community garden at a middle school in the westside. Since I am interested in learning to grow vegetables this year, I thought that volunteering at a community garden would be a nice introduction to gardening in general.

Well, I was wrong. It's kind of like how I thought working as a Project Assistant at a big corporate law firm would be a good introduction to law school. It's not. Fortunately, I only committed to one morning of gardening versus the full year at Jenner & Block where my spirit suffocated.

We were asked to pull weeds. And not the type of weeds I am accustomed to.

It was cool and all but I like the weeds. They are living creatures too and should have an opportunity to survive, just like the rest of the plants. But Pure White said that if we allow the weeds to live, the other plants will die. I suppose so. I'm just not comfortable playing God. So I kept Pure White company while he rigorously weeded an entire section. Check it out:

I was impressed by Pure White's vigor... and a bit fearful too. I had no idea how much he enjoyed rolling around in dirt.

Pure White said pulling weeds reminds him of his childhood when he played with dirt all the time. Now I understand why he often refers to himself as Dirty Jeff. This whole time I thought the moniker was figurative. Again, I stand corrected.

We did agree to Beware of Becoming A Garden Lady if we do decide to continue volunteering or developing our own gardens. Here is a sample conversation I had with the coordinator aka Garden Lady:

GL: Don't you love these plants?

DYY: Yes, I do. Hey, am I pulling the right weeds?

GL: We planted them last year. The leaves are wilting because of the crazy weather, but they are still doing well.

DYY: Uh huh. Hey, where do we throw away these weeds?

GL: If only the school allowed me to do what I want with this space. It wouldn't look like this. (And she walks away talking to herself)

She later returned and asked me to plant these two succulents. Yes! This is what I'm talking about. Giving life, not taking it away!

Sweet, huh? But planting only took two minutes to do. So here I am entertaining myself while I waited for Pure White/Dirty Jeff to complete his labor:

Whatever it is, I suffered emotional distress (and should be made whole)

Readers, I have suffered a great ordeal. This past Tuesday, while eating canned tuna fish, I inadvertently consumed what appeared to be tiny shards of broken glass. Upon inspection of the tuna, I found three more pieces.

By the way, the tuna can originally belonged to Tonkhero. Prior to his extended backpacking trip over the summer, he gave me his leftover canned foods and other provisions. Thanks, Tonk.

Anyway, I totally freaked out because I had ingested what I believed was glass. I asked my co-workers to inspect the pieces and they agreed the pieces were glass. So I frantically called my doctor. He ordered that I go to the emergency room. However, like usual, I sought a second opinion.

I have two doctor friends. I called the first one and got her voicemail. Fuck. I called the second one who is a pediatrician and he assured me that I was fine. He said I'll just poop it out. He's seen worse. I asked, like what. Oh, I've treated kids who have eaten nails, razor blades... and on and on. My chest began to constrict. I interrupted him and asked once more, are you sure my insides aren't going to get cut up? Like my esophagus or my colon? Am I going to die of internal bleeding? He said no... and not to waste my time or money at the ER.

I also found this on the web. So I began to feel better even though my chest felt constricted for the rest of the day. Pure White said the constrictions were anxiety pains. And he should know. But he told me not to worry... because "you're going to be rich!"

The next day, I called Customer Service of a very well-known grocery store that exclusively distributes the tuna. I shall preserve the store's anonymity (for now) while my claim is being processed. Anyway, the representative said I probably swallowed struvites. I was like, what the fuck are struvites? So she put me on hold to retrieve her corporate memo. When she returned, she read aloud all this scientific jargon about canning seafood, and how struvites are minerals that are left over from the canning process. For the most part, 99% of the struvites are removed. Lucky for me, I am the recipient of the 1% of struvites that weren't properly removed.

Again, I needed a second opinion. Thank god for the internet. This is what I learned. But if you are not interested in reading it, struvites are crystallized tuna urine. They are also considered kidney stones. Basically, fish waste. Gee, I feel much better. But, it's unclear. It could be glass... or it could be piss. Who knows? The store offered to conduct an investigation.

Shortly soon after, I drafted and sent a letter to the customer service department and the general counsel of this very well-known store. That same day, Pure White announced our next Dumfries Cup Competition. This is the Dumfries Cup:

My co-workers and I vie for this cup. It proudly sits in the office of the winner for a few weeks. Then the winner has to announce a new competition. We bet on upcoming sport games or award shows or really anything. Once we had to name the Time Person of the Year... this is a story for another time because I was cheated. CHEATED! I will definately share this story in another post, but for now I apologize for digressing. So... Pure White shared my traumatic experience via email with the department and asked, What, if anything, will XXX offer Rebecca as compensation for her ordeal? Closest answer wins the cup.

What do you think?

Here is my letter to assist in your analysis:

Dear Ms. XXX:

On January 23, 2007, I consumed albacore white tuna from the XXX's brand solid white tuna fish in a can (with bar code number 00181990). While eating the tuna, I chewed on something crunchy and swallowed the substance. Upon inspection of the tuna, I discovered shards of glass on top of the tuna pieces. The roof of my mouth also began to bleed.

I am extremely disturbed that glass shards have injured my mouth and are currently in my body. I do not know what the adverse health consequences may be as a result. Because I ate the tuna and swallowed the glass during my lunch hour at the office, my workday was disrupted as I was forced to make phone calls to doctors and emergency rooms. Additionally, I am concerned for my cat who may have also consumed glass as I gave him some of the tainted tuna for his meal. This type of product irregularity is unsafe and unacceptable.

On January 24, 2007, I called Customer Service at XXX's Corporate Office. A representative named Lauren advised me to request an investigation by taking the can and the shards to the nearest XXX's store and completing a product complaint form. Please keep in mind that I have taken photographs of the can and the shards, and also kept one shard in my possession while an investigation is in process.

While we wait for the Quality Assurance Report, I still expect that you will remedy this situation at once. I am very distraught from this experience. Please call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx.

I look forward to hearing from you. Thank you in advance.

Sincerely,

DYY
Attorney at Law

Cc: XXX, General Counsel

Awright, fools. Pray that I at least get a gift certificate!

PS. Today, one of my co-workers left this on my desk and attached a slender piece of tape coming out from its bottom that spelled S-T-R-U-V-I-T-E.

Hilarious. I love it.
This gesture has helped reduce my pain and suffering... but not entirely.
Money and a gift certificate may help more, I think.

The Last King of Scotland

Of all the significant Oscar-related movies I've seen thus far, this one is the absolute best. It's GOOD. All I need to still see is Letters from Iwo Jima, Blood Diamond, Venus, and Volver, and I'm done. I refuse to see United 93, Pursuit of Happyness, and The Devil Wears Prada because, well, I don't believe in wasting time or money.

Hopefully I will get to see the ones above before the actual Oscars. If so, reviews and predictions forthcoming.

By the way, I am currently obsessed with Idi Amin... just like how I was with Marie Antoinette after watching Sophia Coppola's movie and Florence Ballard after watching Dreamgirls.

Did you know that during his rule, Amin gave himself the title His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshall Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular?

Amin was one bold motherfucker.

How to Talk to a Climate Skeptic

The other day I had inadvertently entered into a heated discussion about global warming with a friend of mine. He simply doesn't believe that global warming exist. He thinks someone is "pullling the wool over our eyes" in order to get more funding to do research about something that is myth. I believe he also used the word "propaganda." I responded with words like "right-wing" and "Christian fundamentalist," but I can't be sure. I was already too upset. I guess I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean, I had heard of people who attempt to debunk global warming. I just didn't realize any of them were my friends. It's kind of like when another good friend of mine (who shall remain nameless for her safety and protection) told me she voted for Bush in 2004. That admission rocked my world. I was in shock for weeks. I still shudder when I think about it.

Anyway, Grist Magazine just released a very comprehensive guide on HOW TO TALK TO A CLIMATE SKEPTIC. It's very good. I plan to study this and advertently enter the debate with my friend again.

No offense, but...

Some people are idiots.

So I bought this fabulous shirt last week to add to my great collection of tees. Here is the design:

It's pretty awesome, huh? And it's totally cute on me. I love it. I was SO excited to wear it. But on the day of inauguration, there were quite a few idiots who asked me what it meant. I was like, are you serious? They were like, yeah. I'm like, dude, there's a double meaning. They're like, which meaning are you referring to? I'm like, hello... both. That's what double meaning means. That's what makes this t-shirt so special.

Anyway, I was disappointed at the simpletons' reactions but pleased with the people who understood immediately and promptly furnished compliments. I do it for them, you know.

Here's a picture of me with the t-shirt on. I'm at the Redwood Bar in downtown. The bar is wonderfully pirate-themed. Redwood and my t-shirt made my day.

Me and my bitches.

Happy birthday, ATG!

The Super Bowl Shuffle

You can thank me later.

Dude, I love youtube. It's the best.

Victorious

I don't follow football, but Blu-tooth alerted me that my hometown football team totally creamed the New Orleans Saints by 39-14. Damn. Yeah, yeah... I know the New Orleans Saints were the underdogs and everyone besides Chicagoans were rooting for them because of the tragedy the city had experienced, but... you know, cry me a river. Winners win. It's as simple as that. And can I tell you how we are such awesome winners... and perhaps win the Superbowl this year? I still remember our last Superbowl victory in 1985. I was in fifth grade and EVERYONE in Chicago was Bears crazy. Even I was Bears crazy. So crazy that I had a crush on Jim McMahon (eww!) and also memorized the Superbowl Shuffle. I still remember the lyrics to this day. If you give me a quarter, I will rap it to you. If you give me a dollar, I will rap it and do a little dance too.

In honor of today's win, I present the chorus of this masterpiece to you:

We are the Bears Shufflin' Crew
Shufflin' on down, doin' it for you.
We're so bad we know we're good.
Blowin' your mind like we knew we would.
You know we're just struttin' for fun
Struttin' our stuff for everyone.
We're not here to start no trouble.
We're just here to do the Super Bowl Shuffle.

Very classy shit.

Colbert v. O'Reilly

This is hilarious. I love this shit. Enjoy!

Here's Stephen Colbert as a guest on the O'Reilly Factor:


Here's Bill O'Reilly as a guest on the Colbert Report:

Sometimes simple is sweeter

Christopher totally scored on his birthday gifts. He received clothes, games and tons of toys. All of the board games were boring (since he's still four) but the toys were very flashy. I was jealous. For example, he received:

• battery-powered "Shake N Go" race cars and delux race tracks with flashing lights and loud obnoxious race sounds;
• a remote-controlled monster truck, also with obnoxious sounds;
  
• a complete set of "Home Depot" plastic power tools (interestingly, he received two of the same set... I guess there was a sale at Toys R Us);
• a miniture-size Harley Davidson motorcycle and motorcyclist that operates on an actual foot pump.

Per the recommendation of my sister who said the boys are obsessed with Thomas and Friends, I bought the boys wooden Thomas trains and Thomas toothbrushes and Thomas swimming trunks and pajamas. However, the item that Christopher played with the most is the construction paper I brought along with me:

I taught Christopher how to fly paper airplanes last summer, but we were limited to lifeless notebook paper. So this time I purchased construction paper with cool designs and colors. We already spent two afternoons making and flying airplanes. We even made spaceships by taping two airplanes together and fastening ribbons at the bottom to give an illusion of fire shooting from the engine as it soars through the air. My brother-in-law also joined in on the fun and began folding other types of airplanes. As you can see above, my skills are limited to one style.

Trapped in a Cuckoo Nest aka 4 year old bday party

Everyone knows I adore my nephew. He turned 4 yesterday and today is his big birthday celebration. The theme is Cars from an ostensibly famous Disney movie. I don't know, I haven't seen the movie nor have I read about it in the trades. So I asked my sister (his mother) if kids are going to come dressed as cars. She said no. I thought to myself, what kind of booty theme party is this? Well, actually, I think I said it out loud. Regardless, Christopher and I were excited all day. We love birthdays. I teased him all day that it was really my birthday and my party and my cake and my gifts and my guests. He didn't believe me and responded that the guests are "my people." He also insisted that it's a 4 year old birthday party and surmised that I'm 13. He's a smart kid.

My excitement soon dissipated when the children and parents arrived. The once tranquil suburban San Jose home turned into a 1950's mental institution. I couldn't help but to transfigure myself from a normally outgoing party person into a quiet observer of a scientific social experiment. Let me attempt to explain:

(1) The four-year olds are the schizophrenics. They chase each other around, yell for no reason, and expect others to satiate their demands at once... or they will show you how crazy they really are. They tend to hundle in groups and when they do, they are extremely dangerous.

(2) The two-year olds are the sociopaths. They prefer to play alone and hardly notice each other... until one of them wants the toy of the other and then the blood match is on!! Having no ability to share, they will cry, scream, hit, kick and bite your hand off if you interfere with their primal interests. They look super cute, but I wouldn't trust them.

(3) The parents are the staff. Some are administrators, so they just sit around and complain (likely due to incompetence), and sometimes entertain the patients. These are usually the fathers. The others are the nurses. They feed, clean, and comfort the patients. These are usually the mothers. Both are overworked, understaffed and completely consumed. They often engage in shop talk.

(4) I am the hot Ph.D student who occasionally visits and studies the institution as part of a thesis. Everyone is cordial to the student, but no one can really relate to her. She can't relate to them either. So instead of engaging in trite small talk with the staff, or in a wacky incomprehensible conversation with the patients, she chooses to sit alone with her laptop and pretends to work on her thesis.

Unlike a true mental institution, however, there is no psychiatric medication available at a four-year old birthday party. Curses.

Suzhou architecture

Suzhou, China -- Hometown of I.M. Pei
Courtesy of my main man, DBB. Come home, fool!
But I guess this is much prettier than the strip malls of LA...
Okay, I'll come to you.

A letter from Gitmo

Reading this today made me so sad and angry.

Did you know?

While California has one lawyer for every 240 people, there is only one legal aid attorney for every 8,373 poor people.

Damn.

Doh!

This first video is entitled "The OJ Simpsons: The Lost Episode #1 - If I Did It". Yeah, it's sort of funny. More interesting than anything else. Also, here's the director's cut on Broadcaster.



Here is a Simpsons parody of the intro to Da Ali G Show. It's wicked. Booyakasha!

While searching in google images...

for a flying bird in the post below, I found this:

Dude, it's soooo cheesy, it's awesome. I want this as a T-shirt. Because all you need is love.

Time for Me to Fly

My co-worker Pure White and I were having a very serious discussion about the elements of a "break-up song." He believes that a good break-up song must give you a feeling of empowerment at the finale of the song. I kind of disagree. I think empowerment lyrics are good at the later stage of a break-up. A good example is Heartbreak Hotel by Whitney Houston. But how about songs that allow you to wallow in sorrow and self-pity? Like Gone by N'Sync or Stevie Wonder's Lately? Both are excellent break-up songs, by the way. Regardless, Pure White suggested that I post the lyrics to this cheesy yet empowering break-up song by REO Speedwagon as my anthem for the new year. He's fucken ridiculous, you know. But since I think the lyrics are funny, here it is:

I've been around for you
I've been up and down for you
But I just can't get any relief
I've swallowed my pride for you
I've lived and lied for you
But you still make me feel like a thief

You got me stealin' your love away
'Cause you never give it
Peeling the years away
And we can't relive it
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it's time for me to fly

You said we'd work it out
You said that you had no doubt
That deep down we were really in love
Oh, but I'm tired of holding on
To a feeling I know is gone
I do believe that I've had enough

I've had enough of the falseness
Of a worn out relation
Enough of the jealousy
And the intoleration
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it's time for me to fly

{Refrain} Time for me to fly
Oh, I've got to set myself free
Time for me to fly
And that's just how it's got to be
I know it hurts to say goodbye
But it's time for me to fly

Oh, don't you know it's...
{Refrain}
It's time for me to fly

Because I eat funky food, like, all the time

Blu-tooth forwarded to me this GUIDE TO FUNKY FOOD IN YOUR KITCHEN. You should check it out as I found it very educational. Although I do not agree with all the suggestions, especially about refraining from eating pizza left on the counter overnight, I intend to follow the advice. After all, it's about a healthy 2007... though I would dare to argue that ingesting some bacteria actually keeps you healthy...

It's official

I am the only person in United States who does not own a cell phone.

I learned today that my brother and sister-in-law purchased cell phones for my parents for Christmas. This is big. My parents are not technological. At all. Let me illustrate:

(1) Their microwave has a dial.
(2) They do not have cable. My MTV consciousness was not developed until after I entered college.
(3) They do not own a computer, and therefore, do not use email or the internet.
(4) They do not know how to leave an outgoing message on their answering machine. They refuse to leave messages on answering machines as well.
(5) They do not know how to use an ATM machine. They must see a bank teller in order to retrieve their cash.

Yes, my parents are total old school immigrants. And that is why my dad said he only intended to use the cell phone on weekends and weekdays after 9 pm because the calls were free! Ah! Thank god they're still keeping it real. I was afraid for a tiny moment.

Welcome to 07, Bitches!

Instead of specific new year resolutions that I never seem to follow, I create a theme that governs my life for the new year. My theme for 2007 is MAXIMIZE HEALTH AND WEALTH.

Past themes were:
2006 -- Make time your friend, not foe
2005 -- Live consciously and deliberately
2004 -- Decadence

Happy New Year!