A Puzzler FERSHER

While driving home from the local library following a mildly debilitating mid-afternoon attack of self-doubt (Am I losing brain cells? Maybe I need to read something that doesn't include pictures. Maybe I need to read this book about pre-Renaissance English society. It will surely rejuvenate my withering mental faculties. Oh god I just read the first sentence and am already bored. What's wrong with me??? JUST GIMME GUITAR HERO), I noticed this vehicle waiting ahead of me at the traffic light:



The next few moments passed somewhat like this:

1) hahaha no jesus no heaven. cute.
2) I wonder what the license plate says...
3) I love hugs?
4) no that's not right
5) LV... something about Louis Vuitton???
6) Oh god why does Scarlett look like some sleepy-eyed consumption victim LITERALLY at "the end of her rope" in those new LV ads? How can one mess up ScarJo? I guess anything is possible:



7) Man I don't know what she needs, but it definitely wasn't that weird fuschia lipstick.
8) ok MAYBE the license doesn't mean anything. It's probably just random letters with a personal significance ...
9) ...
10) oh wait...
11) WOW I see that I had to sound it out.


I've also been baking alot. Seeeee?



(banana bread)

Grrrrrr....

We all know I am not a “tech” person (EngRish major, ahyurrrr) but that doesn’t mean I’m not a REAL PERSON too, okay?? And even real, non-tech cave neanderthals have needs. So here is why I … with my plebian tech tastes… will do my best NEVER to form any sort of relationship with all things “ipod:”

1) I know traveling choirs that can produce music longer than you without being recharged. 60 minutes? COME ON!

2) Sound quality and volume are inversely proportional.

3) Silly me did not realize that such a small device actually concealed an all-powerful Bermuda Triangle of music from whence no songs can emerge after they have been transferred. Let me now illustrate this frustrating conundrum to make things easier:



But it’s like demanding that all bridges be one-way with a once-you-cross-you-can’t-come-back kind of logic. Okay, I’ll forcefully regurgitate a slice of sympathy from the flesh-eating black hole that is my heart and just assume that this is some sort of anti-piracy tactic. BUT THERE’S MORE

4) ONLY ONE MUSIC LIBRARY. Wtf? Is this the price I paid for “updating my software?” What if I have more than one computer? What if my ipod wants to be a whore and try other libraries? It needs choices too, okay?? And not only is my forcibly monogamous ipod now confined to one music library, every time I plug it into a new computer, it tries to erase former content and sync to the new library. If my ipod was a girl, it would be one of the maladjusted fucktards from Sex and the City (most likely the husband-pleasing Charlotte York).

Which brings me to…

5) The reason why I need to plug it into computers: CHARGERS NO LONGER INCLUDED. Huh??? Like any beneficiary of nepotism, my ipod has become the undeserving leech that all my other electronics secretly hate. Why does it get priority at USB drives? Because its battery life is so damned short.

6) Supposedly “cool” click wheel is always effectively (and IRONICALLY) incapacitated by “cool” weather. Once it hits 30 degrees, playing my ipod becomes a dangerous game of CHANCE where there is no winner.

So goodbye. It’s been frustrating and DEADLY and I can no longer stomach such a sub par “partnership” especially when my PUREGOLD gym playlist was threatened with deletion. That was the last straw.

COMPLAIN COMPLAIN COMPLAIN

As time grinds on with characteristic constancy, I notice a frightening trend gaining prevalence among all those around me. And though I’ve always tried to ignore this ugly disease, it seems that I can no longer resist talking about it, probably a side effect of the numerous Splenda packets that I’ve taken to consuming every afternoon with tea, hot water, or you know air.

Why are we so boring?

And to be honest, by “we,” I really mean “people I exchange words with in a social context” and by that I really mean “one-track mind, career-obsessed Asians in their early twenties.” You are probably not so dissimilar from these people if your post-college life can be easily summarized with the following possibilities: a) some sort of grad school, b) some sort of finance job, c) some sort of tech job, d) some sort of bullshit research job designed to give you the extra padding needed for achieving choice “a.”

This is all very hugs and puppies since having a future probably ea$$$$es the mind, but I wish we could all stop talking about it and obsessing over it and facebooking it. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care about your job or your 5-year-plan or your finances or your masturbatory need to play a game of show-and-tell with fake shorthand that I’m supposed to accept as fact such as “J.P.” or “Goldman” or “HLS.”

But I get it, I really do. You have a future. Fresh out of school and your life has direction, so you must repeat it as often as you can. You’re finally freeee … to whore all the Access/Xcape parties to your heart’s content, to invest in crap, file taxes, and go to happy hour. But you’re also boring. I mean I can hardly remember the last time I actually had a real-life conversation with someone without using the words “future plans” in a serious manner.

Let’s talk about something else already! Remember when we had real interests that weren’t “fake interests” designed to make you seem a) socially cooler or b) an appealing candidate for admissions at some sort of school? For example, I enjoy looking at pictures of ongoing construction in Dubai and searching for ingredient-substitutions to make recipes less fatty, among other things.

COME ON! Just look:



They're mini-islands that together produce a mini-replica of the entire world! What is better than this?? Well, perhaps Lasercats (not plain, regular cats) and maybe that really sleepy welsh corgi puppy.

A rollercoaster of highs and lows

1) The return of Jack Bauer...



while his incompetent, trouble-hoarding progeny is (again) delightfully absent (GOODBYE FOREVER, KIM BAUER!). Hee!


2) The impossible-to-find-mint:



Currently available to me only through desperate college-cafeteria-style stealing from the complimentary basket of the local Mimi’s. How come no store on earth sells these mints except for an Albertson’s that is 300 miles away???


3) Dear Keira Knightley,



It is not your untimely demise to the awkward Paris Hilton-esque bikini boob squish or even your vain efforts to free your malnourished frame from the PDA-monster behind you that bother me. It is, rather, a nagging suspicion that you seem to have cloned Orlando. Compare:




Well this was rather pointless.

Oh those young whippersnappers...

Dear World,

Yesterday I braved many odds (freezing weather, freezing weather, freezing weather) to watch the greatest movie of all time and its name was:



Despite being mocked by many friends (haters), who insisted that the You Got Served/Drumline hybrid was mired in foolish predictability, I was still hopeful. And even though buying the ticket was perhaps the most shameful experience of my life, even beating out that time I had to watch the re-release of E.T. in theaters by myself (For a movie review! For a movie review!), I DON’T REGRET IT, OK???

Come to think of it, watching the thing was like being in a middle school minigangsta hoochie showdown movie of my own. As we were hit by repeated volleys of various hard candies every twenty minutes and regaled with a loud ghetto fabulous commentary on every single event that unfolded on screen (as well as an ear-piercing shriek whenever Chris Brown appeared), I felt the atmosphere to be ripe for a break dance fight. Or a real fight.

So here’s a break down:

The Good:
1) My dream of watching/participating in a stroll fight is partially fulfilled.
2) A PURE GOLD soundtrack that I will fiendishly mine for gym-worthy songs.
3) Megan Good (dare I make the pun) looks good.
4) Akon, the suddenly ubiquitous belle of the pop culture ball, is not in this movie.

The Bad:
1) Needs more stepping!
2) Shaky camera technique aimed at “realism” only yields “mild motion sickness.”
3) Use of “hissing” as part of a fraternity’s chant only incited the middle schoolers around me into bouts of intermittent hissing of their own.

Wheeee! I'm posting!

It's a sad sad day when your recreational writing has degenerated into a warped gooey mess of exclamation marks and painfully butchered endearments (HUN HUN HUN .... every time I see this word my eyes bleed a little). So I have decided to step it up with this blog. Though at times gut-wrenchingly pretentious, I promise you I will always use the spellcheck.

There are some things in life that I enjoy unconditionally. And here they are:

1) Beginning sentences with "and" because it makes me feel so cutting edge and sophisticated. AHYUK.

2) Buying shoes because their suitability lies independent of one's weight.

3) B-R-E-A-D. Whole wheat, sour dough, pumpernickel, rye, garlic, cheese, sesame, French, German, Italian, strucla, pain aux noix, roti, naan, focaccia, baguette, and everything else!

4) Laughing (Doesn't this sound like a saccharin feel-good mid-afternoon infomercial on Lifetime about something ambiguous).

5) SOUP (goes especially good with number three)

6) Reading the blogs of people I despise. Haha I guess this was a quick JUMP in topic, but it's the truth! Sadly, my unofficial blogroll is characterized by the following dichotomy: guilty pleasure blogs and laugh out loud blogs. The latter is pretty self-explanatory, but the former is what constitutes the whole of this NUMBER SIX thing that I love: the blogs of people who shamelessly (and thoroughly) explicate every emotional detail of their lives complete with ascerbic bursts of rage and generously complete backstories. It's like James Joyce on crack. It's like a Korean soap opera on my PC without the cancer and the amnesia and the long lost siblings. And it gets updated every week. And sometimes there are pictures. And it's housed on xanga. hahahaha.

7) Caffeine. GOD I LOVE CAFFEINE like an asian girl likes eyeliner. I will even try caffeine soap if you get it for me. Mmmmm blood vessels expandddinggggg.

8) Furry, pudgy, animals who are squishy and cute and adorable. (welsh corgi). harharhar


I guess the last thing was a cop-out for confessing to be such a monster via NUMBER 6. But this was the first real entry I wrote in a long time: pictureless and uncensored.

I hate my other blogs

I can no longer really say what I really mean, mostly because I have a tendancy for specifics and irrational behavior. GROOL.