Sunday, October 30, 2005

the inner alcoholic

At what point of the night did we cross into dangerous hangover territory?

It starts out innocently enough.



but then...




Maybe the turning point came in the night when gracie met her favorite celebrities.

Friday, October 28, 2005

bowling, beer, and fun

well, that's what I did tonight. bowled, drank beer, and had fun. now it's 1:50 am and I am off to bed. in three hours, I will be heading off to California to visit Gracie.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

The List

Throughout my day, it hit me: The Bad Man stole my black linen, strapless sundress. That was cute. Shit, the Bad Man also stole my other sundress with the bold flower prints. That sucks. And twice in the middle of the night, I woke up with a start - that little fucker took my favorite pair of linen pants with the wrap around belt that I bought at Anthropolgie four months ago and the dress that everyone keeps telling me I looked like a librarian in and I would respond, "yeah - but a cute librarian?" And the white Benetton dress pants that were so great because you could just throw them in the washer! And the skirt I bought in Korea and the cocktail dress I got in Paris...the list goes on and on.

So far, I've calculated the costs of just seven items which comes to near five hundred dollars...and that's not to mention all the t-shirts and shorts and tank tops and bathing suits.

And all I can say is - he may have stolen my clothes, but he didn't steal my smile. he he he.

But if I see some little fuck trying to pawn off the cut offs my sister just bought me from BCBG, there is going to be a beccup beatdown. I'm kicking Bad Man's ass.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

morning suprises

8 am. I go outside to my car. I'm about to take Jenn and Raul to the airport and notice my doors are unlocked. And as I'm thinking to myself - how I could have left my doors unlocked since I am so obsessive about checking them, I notice the big rock sitting in a pile of glass on the backseat. Again. This is the third time. The first time, I was in New York and my friend had left his bag in the back seat. I didn't think to check before leaving the car. All my books and classnotes were stolen from the trunk. It was right before finals. I was 21. The second time was in the Mission in San Francisco, I was 24. I had left a wire to my CD player showing. It was a fifty dollar disc man. That's the only thing they took. Each time I feel as if I get smarter about what I leave out. This time - there was nothing. And then it hit me, I had just packed a giant suitcase of virtually ALL my summer clothes and left it in my trunk two days ago. I intended to give it to my mom when she came up next weekend. ALL my summer clothes are gone. Clothes I bought in Korea years ago to great pants I bought this past summer.

All I have left is this fucking rock. Oh and my mother bitching to me about how God is punishing me, yet again. And now I keep asking God - my clothes??? Did you have to take my clothes? Why not an arm or a leg? If you know anything about me - even remotely, this incident has cost me hundreds of dollars. I feel a little post traumatic stress coming on.

Fuck. I'm so pissed.

Monday, October 24, 2005

realizations and updates

I just realized that I have no clue what it is that I want out of life. This scares the shit out of me. I used to think that I was pretty self-confident and had my goals nicely laid out for me. All of course - so "easily" attainable. Now I feel lost. And as my family and friends know, I hate feeling lost. I will talk their ears off about all the what-if's in life and analyze myself to death in hopes to find some sense of control. Some sense of meaning. Sorry guys. he he he...

And on to other updates.

So whoever asked me to please date Noel, my apologeeze. I blew both of them off this past weekend. And Noel is the sweetest guy and called me earlier today to go see some show tonight. But weekdays are generally reserved for school and weekends for sulking about school work. But here's a fun story. So the investment banker - lord, I can't even remember his name at the moment - was really intent on getting a second date. Here's the trick though: women like a little mystery in men and a bit of aloofness. Everything else just looks too desperate. This guy called me almost every day, texted me, and occasionally emailed. I wasn't even that nice to him on the phone, which may have worked against me. So I sent him an email yesterday - a polite email stating that I was too busy to be really dating anyone and that it wasn't fair to have someone constantly waiting on my schedule. I recieved two emails. At 2:30, he wrote that he didn't want anything serious and that meeting sporadically would be fine. I guess by 3:30, he changed his mind and wrote me this nasty little email about how he wasn't going to waste his time for a flake. And for those who don't get it. I'm the flake! I started laughing and almost sent him another email but didn't want to fuel the fire. No mystery here.

But while I'm in this self-analyzing moment in life, I will admit this is the second "nasty" email I recieved from a guy. The first one came this past summer from this lawyer I met on the subway. He had just moved back from giving a series of lectures in Europe. We went out on two dates - two fairly decent dates, but again, I just wasn't in the mood. After I cancelled our third date, he wrote me this email about how rude it was that I kept blowing him off. Maybe I cancelled more than that third date, I can't remember. I believe he wrote something about how very not-nice my behaviors were. I replied that his frustrations were being directed at me when in reality they're probably more about other things...and I listed a few examples. In truth, I'm sure I was being frustrating and maybe wanted to be more so. I never heard back from him again. I didn't expect to.

hmm....I wonder if there is a link between my complaints about the lack of men in my life and what these guys have been telling me. Though Raul tells me that I keep dating beneath me and that's why I keep giving guys the big 'ol boot. ah, Raul's nice.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Halloween suggestions?

People keep asking me what I'm going to be for Halloween. I have no idea. So far, I've heard strange things from friends. For instance: an undressing cowgirl, Jem, a baby or a bum, and some kind of abortion rights activist wearing all white except for a stain of red between her legs (I couldnt' follow this one - mostly because I tuned this chick out ten minutes before when she started talking about how watching fat people eat made her sick. Listening to her speak made me want to shoot myself).

But looking at photos of other people's costumes didn't help either - though they made me chuckle.

I remember when my brother called me from Wallgreens raving about this awesome idea he had. And the best part, it was so cheap! As you can see - his idea didn't carry into reality so well. All night, he kept asking me if he looked like a beggar while Ryan kept rapping Big Pumpkin - P U M P. Even with a beer in each hand, he just couldn't feel like his hip little self.

Then there was Dan who called from work telling me all about this great pinata he found. He was going to be Pinata Man. I believe my exact words were, "hunh?" But he did it. He cut out a hole, put that giant thing on his head, and became Pinata Man.

The funniest thing was that everyone recognized him while walking down Castro. Pinata Man was a hit. But like all great hits, it must come to an end. Dan's last statement of the night summed up Pinata Man's fate pretty well. "You know, you could really tell that people were getting drunker throughout the night because people kept taking swings at my head. It was really annoying after a while." And somewhere along the Muni tracks, he threw his helmet down and said goodbye. The next day, my roommate went for a run and found pieces of Pinata Man strewn all over the Mission District.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

My relationship with Dr. Shu

So I got my Stats exam back today. Ranges were between 17-98. And despite my predictions, I actually didn't get the lowest score and it also turns out that I won't be dropping the class either. I received a 76 - mind you, it was a C that I didn't quite deserve. Though my professor didn't curve, he was very generous with the points. And I'm curious how someone was able to obtain a 17. In fact, I'm actually impressed. For instance, Question #6 asked me to predict the power of a particular study. Though I did this correctly for a previous question, I couldn't quite seem to make it work and time was ticking away...so I plugged in a few numbers to a couple random formula's and then said out loud in my head - fuck it, I'll give the study the benefit of the doubt. Power is .80 - good job study. Dr. Shu, our infamous stats professor, put a giant red question mark next to my answer and I think had a similar thought process. I think he also said - fuck it, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. 7 out of ten points. But I'm sure it wasn't followed by a good job.

I don't think Dr. Shu likes me very much. And to be honest, I'm not a huge fan of Dr. Shu as my stats professor. Today, I went to ask his opinion on a few analyses that I was running for a study. He looked at me blankly then began by telling me various ways to calculate significant findings. He started by telling me to assign weighted coefficients to the means of the twelve factors in my study. ie: 0, 0, 0, -1, -1, -1 or -1/3, -1/3, -1/3....if you're eyes are starting to glaze over even now, mine already had. In the end, I stared at him blankly and said, "so you're telling me to run an ANOVA on spss?" And he replies, "Sure or you could calculate it by hand." Now I know the words that were coming out of his mouth were English but still, it was incomprehensible to me. Why would I calculate by hand agazillion calculations when SPSS could spit it out in thirty seconds? I wish he would stop speaking in code.

So I have two theories as to why this man may not like me very much. One maybe because I represent the reason why that Asian stereotype of being geniuses in math and science is deteriorating. I am a shame to my people. Or secondly, maybe he doesn't appreciate the "snide" comments I make in class - especially when he says things like, "Okay, two minutes left. Let's start by introducing..." And this is no exaggeration. It's how he both introduced "?" and how he ended class for me. I've also caught myself rolling my eyes every so blatantly in his direction...yeah, maybe he doesn't like that.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

the men you meet in the big apple

A couple nights ago, I met a guy, an investment banker working in mid-town who happens to live two blocks down from me. 32, born on April 10 in Detroit Michigan, from a rather large family with over fifty first cousins – two of whom were pregnant by age 19. Funny, sweet, kind of dorky, and apparently really good at giving toasts at weddings. Not your stereotypical high-powered investment banker though you could tell underneath all the nervous jokes was a bit of that guy there. Numbers were exchanged and soon after I got a very sweet little invitation from him for dinner sometime this week….But I think I might just let this one pass. He wasn’t my “type”. It’s funny that for someone who truly doesn’t seem to have A type, I certainly seem to know who isn’t. Although I guess I always start out this way with almost every guy I’ve ever dated. I begin with all the negatives, setting my standards way too high and eventually working my way down. It must be some weird twisted sort of defense mechanism that doesn’t seem to be defending me from the relationships I should be staying clear of.

Anyway, last night, I met Noel at a café down the street from my apartment. One look and you could tell that we came from different worlds. He in his hip-hop gear and me in my non-hip hop wear. On any given day this past week, I was probably buried in report writing and research while he was out promoting shows and making his own versions of rap artist documentaries. He sat down very casually and starting making conversation freely. I felt self-conscience, too aware of our differences. I’ve noticed that the older I’ve gotten and the deeper I get into academia, the more out of place I feel with people…well not like me sadly enough. I think it would be missing the point to chalk it up to snootiness though from an outsider’s point of view, especially from someone who didn’t know me, I guess I can see it. Pretty soon it became evident that Noel was the smartest, least educated person I knew and I was probably the dumbest, most educated person he knew. He never went to high school but was well read on all areas ranging from Freud’s biography to carbon dating in Archaeology. When he found out I was Korean, his eyes lit up and told me about the nine movies he went to see at the Korean film festival last month. He raved about the up and coming Korean movie industry and asked my opinion of the various directors. I pretended to lose something on the floor. He’s 27, German, and recently moved here six months ago to “get things going”. He’s put together shows with artists featuring Jay Z, 50 cent (I’m so embarrassed to ask this – but do you spell out this guy’s name like this?), Ludicrous and a bunch of others I of course have never heard of. Naturally, I had to mention my run in with Foxy Brown but he didn’t seem all that impressed. I think he mumbled something like, “Yeah, she’s bitchy. Too young for so much money and fame.” I felt like I was in some movie where the two most unlikely characters are paired together for laughs. In the end, he asked if we could kick it sometime this weekend. I don’t know – what do you think ladies - too different?

Friday, October 14, 2005

Seven things you need to catch a mouse



I know there are so many of the few people who read this blog that might stop and say, "I can't believe she blogged this - yet again" (and in my defense - someone had asked about my 'avocado skin'!). Well, you wanted a glimpse into this girl's life and as of 11:15 pm last night, this was it. Urban living - especially living in New York with a meager graduate student income means that every so often, you have critters. I've been living in my apt for over a year now and this is my first encounter with a mouse. Three nights ago, I woke up to sounds in my cabinets...cute little squeeks behind cages but deathly frightening, make your hair stand straight up sounds when five feet away from you. I kept praying that I was somehow still sleeping and nightmaring. Space is always an issue in NYC, so sometimes you are simply sleeping in your kitchen.

So I put out traps. Three days later: nothing. Then last night, out comes a little mouse hobbling to the middle of the apt. And for about twelve minutes, we just sat there staring at each other. He finally got bored and hobbled to the corner of my room. I screamed, jumped on a chair, called Raul and aimed a friend. What was I supposed to do? Through chuckles, Raul told me that since he's hurt, he's more likely to bite. Was that supposed to calm me? My friend aimed - throw a boot at it. I like my boots! Then Raul and I devised a plan to get my sticky traps and try to broom the dying mouse unto it. I repeat DYING to relieve guilt. I hate killing things unless they are gray moths, but that's another entry. A whole hour later, it worked. But not without the seven essential elements you see pictured. Ah, let's not forget the most important factor: the screaming, little Korean girl jumping up and down the chair.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

hibernations

The nice thing about being absent from this blog is that people actually get in touch with me to see how I'm doing. I even got an email from someone I knew from way back when. I think he might have said he was my brother...Paul was it?

Anyway, I have not slept more than a few hours these past couple of nights. Stats exam. While everyone else was busy living life, I was learning how to conduct power analyses, confidence intervals, and ANOVA's by hand. My favorite type of problems began by stating: To conduct such and such test, most researchers will use a statistical software such as...or you can go through each painful step by an even more painful step. The thing is that by 5:30 am, I really thought I had my information together. And yesterday, I even rocked out to MC Hammer's Can't Touch This while driving back home from school. I secretly thought he was singing about me too. But apparently you can touch "this" - smash - no crush "this". Whatever "this" is, I've certainly lost it. God, I hope it wasn't important.

Usually, after an exam I am filled with relief but tonight, I have a report to finish up and - well need to run a few stats on a study I'm working on. go figure.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

the big squeeze

This morning I watched a man get arrested for peeing on the street. He replied to the officer in a sweet, bunny voice, "Oh, is that not allowed?" I thought to myself - that's right. Put all those men in their place. I also saw a little autistic boy try to pick up a midget. (Wait - am I allowed to say that?) He went right over, put his arms around her, and squeezed upwards. Horrified, his father went over and began scolding him. The woman politely excused herself saying that it wasn't a big deal. I think his father might have made the situation worse by trying to make it better. I chuckled.

Monday, October 03, 2005

Friday's past post

Kurt and I had it out on Friday. He’s my boss at the restaurant and can be a complete ass at times. For the most part, he leaves me alone and I generally take his shit. But having just gotten over a flu of sorts and being faced with a party of forty plus other diners, I decided that no, I’m not taking his shit today. I think it started when he said, “You know, you’re really making my life difficult” and I cleverly responded with, “Your life? Let’s talk about my life –“ and we had a screaming match about whose life was more difficult. It ended with Nelson, one of my favorite line cooks, pushing me out of the kitchen while still foaming at the mouth. But Kurt and I got over it. Neither of us really holds grudges and Kurt usually has it out with at least one of his employees a day. Friday – it just so happened to be me. He doesn’t know it but later that night he ended up buying me a couple of martinis. I figured it was his way of apologizing.

Anyway, the night ended as all nights should – with a tranny show.

Those who have been to my restaurant know that in general, we’re a family place with brick walls, warm lighting, and black and white photo’s of old Brooklyn. So when Kurt told me to stick around for the fifth annual Transvestite Show, I had to stay. Apparently, two of our regular customers rent out the place and host this show featuring Hedda Lettuce and Porche. Incredibly funny. Come on – Hedda Lettuce? And the crowd was great. Despite my better judgment, I ended up getting home well past my bedtime and well past being sober. Besides, like Raul always says, “Beccup loves the gays.” I do. I really do.