Scary Kitty

If you thought you knew me but didn't know that I am afflicted with a disease similar to the black lung that clings to one's inner most parts and doesn't let go - i.e. Hello Kitty love, then you never knew me at all.

Please witness two recent videos that I saw that made me tremble and whimper. This is not how Hello Kitty should be.

Go to about 2 mins, 30 secs and witness the horror of Hello Kitty actually as S&M ripped men dancing around an Alice-in-Wonderland type character.



It is horrifying.

Another video that I wish for you to see is Lisa Loeb's Underdog video. An open lover of Hello Kitty, she should have known not to go to this far. A living Hello Kitty belongs only in the imagination. This reality is twisted and frankly almost scarier than MAC's take on HK only because LL loves HK and should know not to make this into a reality. If my 10 plushes came alive, I would NOT like it.



Begin at the 49 second mark. Please, Lisa! There are rules and I will have nightmares after these two videos. With that said, enjoy!

I am attracted to the color purple.

Not the book, just the color. Sorry, Alice Walker. You may have written the book, but this one is all me (and select random contributors thanks to Google.com).

Purple. It's been a recent development but I believe it is something to be analyzed. Let us begin.

By attracted to, I do mean, I have been wearing a lot of purple. If given a choice between trying on something of any color, I have been gravitating to purple. I recently used a purple hair clip and I've been happily applying plum mascara to my eyelashes. Is it merely because purple is the hot new color of 2009? Or.. could it be something deeper? Something deep within my soul?

Which brings me to another question - is wearing an all purple body sweat suit... unattractive? No. By virtue that it is purple. Right? I hope so. This is what I've been wearing when alone lately.... now you know my secrets. I confess, I've graduated through many colors. Grey body suits, black body suits (a favi of mine), mmmm the other colors are slightly harder to make into body suits, but somehow purple has prevailed.

When I think of purple, I know it is the color of royalty, very hard to achieve by dyes originally, because of the price of the blue. Perhaps I am majestic. Then I remember for many years in the formation of my being, I associated purple with Barney, the big gay dinosaur that held children's hands and sang big gay songs and Prince. Why, Prince? This is hazy. Mmmm. A quick Google search returned a little something we all know as Purple Rain. (Thanks to Wiki, I found out that it is also his favorite color and he encourages audiences members to wear it to his concerts.)

Another quick Google search turned up many things on what the meaning of purple could be. Apparently purple can be used and perceived in language in both a positive or negative manner. Purple prose being the most purple of all terms, this refers to an exaggeration, or highly imaginative writing that could be reference to exaggerating lies. (I do enjoy exaggerations.)

A separate website offers this advice: I should put purple in my life when I wish to: "re-balance my life, remove obstacles, calm over-activity or energize from depression." Interesting, indeed. (This applies to me as well.)

Purple, purple, purple. Nothing rhymes with purple, so in this way, it is like orange. Purple and orange. I should have ended this blog about 15 words ago. Anyway, now you know my mind's deepest fixation. Say purple 15x in a row and it no longer sounds like a real word!

Through this superficial cursory research of the word, I believe that purple has proven itself to be a complicated word worth reckoning with. I challenge you to incorporate purple into your daily lives.

I eat you, cutie!

Behold! Cheburashka in bento form!!!



I stole this off of a Japanese mother's flickr photostream site, linked here. From what I can tell by my frantic clicking, I love her. Is it not every person's dream to have a bite of cuteness? If my mommy made this for me when I was child, I'm telling you, I would be a lot thinner than I am now, because I wouldn't be able to eat this. Just too cute. Here's just 2 more. Yummy!

(This is not made by the same woman but damn cute!)

Is this Girls Aloud song Better With or Sans Video?

I'm taking a poll. Why don't you take a listen before you help me decide?



At first, you might think it's a vapid Brit pop song. It is exactly that. I'm listening to it as blog. Keyword: listening. Not watching the music video, despite the fact that Girls Aloud has inherited Brit Girl Pop from Spice Girls.

Still listening... It's quite catchy. "In my dreams, we are forty stories tall. When you're around, woo, we're untouchable." Ah, it's a love song about a girl and her partner (whoever you want it to be) ... they have problems, but whenever they're together - everything is fixed. It's upbeat, it's got girl vocals and really, what could possibly make this better? Perhaps...a video? A music video? Is there a channel that only plays music videos? (I miss you, MusicTV)

Take a peek and see if this helps you understand the lyrics of the song better. You know, flesh it out a bit.



This video is pretty awesome. Awesomely bad. Are you at work and can't look at the video? Here's what I see..

What I see are 5 girls in clear bubbles that are supposed to be in space. They are dressed in space clothes -a la Milla Jovovich as Leeloo from the Fifth Element, but in black, because trust me, white is less flattering for everyone. The song talks about walking in the rain, but the girl is posing sexily in a space bubble. It's quite exhilarating. The lights streaking the background and bursting on the screen could give me a seizure!

PS Girls Aloud, space is a lot higher than 40 stories tall!! The clear space bubbles that they're in are penetrating the earth's atmosphere. Cheryl Cole, the wife of football (soccer) super star Ashley Cole (I prefer Joe), looks especially delightful. Children in a plane see these bubbles collide with the air in 5 different possibly dangeous courses to death, yet.... all the girls are still sexy.

Their bubbles hurtle toward their demise and suddenly the circuit is cut. Hmmmmmmm. Do you want those 4 mins back? Sorry.

Conclusion: It is visual stimulation. They are pretty. Is pretty enough though? In many cases, yes. In this case, perhaps not.
Relevance to the lyrics of the song? Zero.
I think I'll stick with just listening.

Productivity, Slightly above Zero

I accomplished quite a few things today. One of which was to spend minimal alone time on Facebook. But I accidentally bent some rules. I have an addiction and it. is. real. I cannot control when I'm on Facebook. It was a bit ridiculous, actually. I'm on the phone with the dentist's office and I click on Facebook to load. After getting off the phone, I realize what I've done and close my mistake. Have I broken my pledge?

No. and here is why. It was an unconscious mistake. I had a friend that managed to skate by on our language pledge back in Sichuan because he was not conscious when he broke it. This is exactly the same idea.

But then, I had to do some stalking... how could I do that?...But it doesn't count if I'm. not. on. So, I had a friend sign on for me. Really, Facebook is slightly indispensible in certain matters that relate to relationships in degrees of separation. Sound too complicated? That's because I'm trying to confuse you.

I've taken away my shortcut button to Facebook to simplify things. 51 more hours to go and I'll be a better person for it.

Gym, I hate you.

Contrary to the popular love/hate relationship that many people have with the gym, I like to think of mine as multi-dimensional. It's more of a hate/guilt/need/hate relationship. Surrounded by hate with as many sides as I can type, I go to the gym because a) it is necessary, b) it is a better alternative to nothing, c) I like seeing differences in my body.

It's also a great way to think about nothing while listening to pop music. I rotate between blanking out, blearily reading romance novels (preferably those in Large Print), and watching terrible Fox News. The newest trend to my visits to the gym has been to watch Infomercials on pieces of work out equipment. Yesterday, Susan Lucci from the ABC's All my Children introduced me to Malibu Pilates and the affordable chair that accompanies it. By tearing my eyes from the screen, I was leaving the "Malibu body of my dreams" behind.

Because of the cheap price, it is the most basic gym that one can ask for. It has TV, but you can't control the channels. There are no classes and there is no pool. I've come to expect 1/3 of the televisions to be tuned onto FOX news. (Cavuto, gross!) I watch it only to witness the poorest form of journalism known to man. I go home and cry in the shower. As it was previously a Blockbuster, I have proudly come to love my gym because of how awkward I can be here with almost no ramifications.

My gym is heavily patronized by the parents of my high school graduating class, and thanks to the recession - my peers in high school. In regard to the people, I was never friends with them to begin with so I am able to maintain my policy of silence at the gym. In general, I don't talk to anyone and try not to make any direct eye contact. The gym allows me to wear all types of headbands, hairclips, tank tops, and ill-fitting shorts that I so choose. I'm not looking to meet anyone at this local gym.

It has a steady traffic of people for different time blocks - which I have given names to according to their employment status. In the mornings, there are the crazy people. Post-9AM until 4:30PM = the most popular unemployment times, this is a popular time for my peers to come, often overlapping with the high school crowd that starts at 2:15 PM and also ends at about 5PM. 5-7:30 = after work traffic, if I can manage to stay away, I will. 8-10 = late night people who work out. This strangely includes couples that are my age, that I know. I try to avoid coming at this time as well. I often make it to the gym right about 2, right before the high schoolers roll in. The concept of working out in high school is foreign to me. After consulting many friends, it must be a relatively new thing. High schoolers going to the gym. Nothing frustrates me more than some tight, underage body slowly stepping on the elliptical next to mine while texting furiously. Young, pre-collegiate bodies do not need to do this!

This gym is located right in between two of the largest rival high schools in Georgia. Because of my usual time and appearance, I have been mistaken many times for being in high school , by the high schoolers that work there. Including one boy who won't stop staring at me. He is breaking my eye contact rules! Boy who has not yet graduated high school, I am at least SIX years older than you. That frightens me more than it does you, I'm sure. Please stop staring.

The barely-existant germaphobe within shudders at the thought of the gym. I keep anti-bacterial wipes and gels as close to me as possible. At the end of the day, I realize that the gym sucks and I hate it, only to go back the following day. SOMEONE GIVE ME A JOB.

Productivity = 0

In the name of productivity, I have decided to go on a Facebook strike. 3 days. 72 hours starting midnight, Mar 30. Can it be so hard?

72 hours of how life was - 5 or 6 years ago? That's willpower. Some things you hate, because they're good for you (like the gym). Facebook is in no way good. In fact, it is the highest contributor to the lack of productivity for everyone I know.

View this work pyramid.


Know this true for most everyone I know, with Facebook taking the brunt of this lack o' works. (I don't have a job. That doesn't mean I haven't had one before. SHUT UP.)

Now what will I do? EEKS! Be prepared to see more posts!

When Word counts go Wrong

I don't know if this can be classified as a pet peeve. When people start their statements with: "I have 6 words for you...", I have a tendency to count whether or not the following statement is 6 words. Sometimes it is. Mostly, it's not. I am not annoyed, rather... I get a touch of satisfying pleasure at the expense of others. "What an idiot," I get to think for a mere second. I don't sit on my high horse for long, but I don't mind a quick hop-on/hop-off.

For example, last night on American Idol (go anOOP!), Kara said: "Six words: one of the best performances of the night." Err. Kara, did you count on your imaginary fingers for that one? That's 8 words, honey. I just got a Ping! for Pleasure. Experience it with me!

I have the need for speed. Here's why, Officer.

I find that the speed limit in any given setting is a guideline for people that driving while under the influence of some sort of drug. That way, they know what speed they are supposed to go. For most people, if you aren't drunk, why worry?

Paranoia, that's why! Every time I step into my car, I have found myself thinking about what I would say to a police officer if I was to be pulled at THAT minute for speeding, because I do. Speeding is just a way of life, it's not necessarily bad, unless you're caught. No one is to blame but yourself.

Georgia's speeding and traffic laws are not as stringent as say, in D.C., but I believe preparedness is the key to life.

________
Last year, around Christmastime, I was pulled over for going over 20 over in a 55 zone. Sigh. Panicking, I thought my life was over as I handed my license. Then, in a moment of potential glory, the officer asked me why I was in the area. Confused, I repeated his question. He responded with a question that sounded just like the last, except different. "Why are you in such a hurry?" This is Georgia, mind you. When I get nervous, accents inhibit my ability for comprehension.

OH. I took the time to look at my watch. My hands were shaking. The impending doom from my parents cast a shadow over my clarity of mind. Then, suddenly, it came to me. It was 12:40, I was about 25 miles away from Athens, it was Finals week at the UGA. and I looked like shit. The only problem was, it was a Saturday. How could I sell this?

I recalled a memory of my best friend's experience three years ago of a police officer pulling her over and letting her go on a warning on her way to Finals. This could work. I had to be honest. Honesty is the best policy. I took a breath and then ...

I lied like a dog. I explained to the kind officer that I was late to a 1 o'clock final. It was Saturday, but I had been sick for the week and my professor was kind enough to let me come on a Saturday to take it. Recalling the same friend who missed a final and had a professor let her re-take it on another day, I knew this was at least possible. He looked at my drivers' license and back to my face. He asked me if my address on my license was current. Currently residing at my parents' house, I agreed readily.

I live just close enough for this all to make sense. He nodded, then walked away. I put my head on the steering wheel and prayed. He came back with a small slip of paper that was a warning.

I sighed, thanked the officer, then pulled away.

_______
Now, I know that this was not a circumstance that I could use again. I thank my lucky stars and set cruise control as much as possible. BUT, I do mostly drive whatever speed I think is appropriate, which is sometimes slightly more than 10 mph over the limit. Hmm.. these are ones that I could think of that might seem plausible.

1. Everyone has thought of explosive diarrhea at one point or another. This is just gross and I'm sure the cop might actually laugh at you. So... this isn't 1. These are speeding only. I am against DUI.

1. Allergic reaction. Quickly rub your mouth raw, scrub your nose and poke yourself in the eyes. You need to run home before you lose your ability to breathe. You have emergency steroid medication for just this purpose, but at home (or in the direction where you're going!)
2. .................... OK. That's all I have. I'm screwed. That's why I wrote this blog. Help a paranoid sister out!

Swarovski sells Asian trash?

I was window shopping at the mall the other day, when I happened to see the newest Swarovski crystal designs. At once, I was confused. I was in Dunwoody, GA, not Japan. How could these things be marketable in America? Obviously someone thought that Tokidoki was a lot more popular stateside that it actually is. For $260 a charm, I'm concerned as to how well these are going to sell.


My other criticism is that they are too bling. How am I supposed to nonchalantly wear this out as a casual necklace? Understated pieces these are not.


With my doubt duly noted, I was pleased to see such cute things at Swarovski. Perhaps when they go on -75%, I will look into purchasing one! The idea of one of these evil/cute munchkins resting on my throat is still a bit unsettling though. But if there were under $50 bux, I could be convinced! They look like they are talking to each other!

Cute is my weakness.

At first I thought perhaps that my weakness was cute Asian babes (see Kylie), but now I'm realized perhaps maybe what is also equally as cute is babies of other nationalities speaking Mandarin Chinese. There is something delightful about this that I love.

Please look at the 10 second mark and the 30 second mark. This is my favorite girl. She is the best storyteller!

I also enjoy their mainland accents - specifically their differentiation between min and ming, and at the 18 second mark, the v sounds to 玩 + r. What a mainland treat!

Twilight - 10 reasons why you should watch it.

Number 1

Number 2

Number 3

Number 4
Number 5


Number 6-10

(please click to enlarge)

*To increase manjoyment, ignore the plot and Kristen Stewart's perma-pout. She is almost more annoying that Keira Knightley's jutting underbite.

Stuff I see in my car that I like

Have you ever seen anything in traffic that just made you laugh? Something that just makes you squint your eyes and do a double take, because how does that make sense? Feast your eyes on this. I don’t know why I was compelled to take a picture of this, but somehow I did and now I’m sharing this treat with you!


Maybe Jesus took the wheel without properly closing the gas gauge? Then he ran into a panel?....

Thanks to IKEA, both Chris and Wilma can hang(out) all the time!

A recent trip to IKEA reminded me of a few things that I forgot about this store. IKEA is full of double standards, stupid sometimes unpronounceable Swedish names, directions with no words that often don’t tell you enough, and plenty of things you will buy that you do not need. A beautiful Saturday led too many people getting outside of their house, into the warehouse that is IKEA, add the dollar soft serve, and what you have is a recipe for TOO MUCH FUN (such a thing does exist!)

Let me start with the double standard. There are two reasons to go to Ikea, when you need to buy something at Ikea and then do not want to admit to having gone there, or, when you really don’t need to go to Ikea, go there anyway, and leave cursing Ikea for having so many useless eye-catching things that you’ve placed in your yellow bag and somehow walked all the way to the register. The only people that intentionally admit to buying things from Ikea are college students and poor 20-somethings. If you make a decent salary, the purpose of your Ikea trip is to find something can pass for Pottery Barn or West Elm. You want to somehow recreate that look you found at Anthropologie, without the price.

Where is that standard? Is Target better than Ikea? What about all those celebrities that design for Target, this makes it classier than Ikea – sometimes cheaper too! The home organizers that are at Ikea look exactly like the ones at the Container Store, except about a few hundo dollars cheaper. Yes! Cheaper, but not cheap. Ikea home organizers will still cost about $1k. Ikea looks pretty classy to me. All those rounded edges, those asymmetrical lines, the almost-opaque plastics…..maybe it’s because I’m a poor 20-something that can freely admit to buying stuff here.

Ikea makes it hard to call the things I’ve purchased by name. Their stupid Swedish names let me over-personify my items bought from Ikea. Meet Antonius, my wire organizer. Chris, my corkboard. Wilma, my curtains. Let’s not forget Vagen, the curtain rod set who I had to buy instead of Irja, who was unavailable at the time. I own 3 Nots, the 7.99 floor lamp that brings light to any room. A friend and I had a hard time looking at Victor because of the people standing in front of him.

…And who could forget Ikea man? The annoying man who gives you directions on how to put things together, then suggests that you call the Ikea hotline.

Thanks goodness for the $1 soft serve right past checkout, because after I've chosen and paid for my purchases, a little love in the mouth is just what the doctor ordered.

Facebook, home of narcissism

It's easy to admit that one has an addiction to Facebook, many people do, but I think what I’m realizing is that I have an addiction to myself. If you think that I go on Facebook to look at your profile, you’re probably a little too full of yourself for your own good. I can truthfully say that I stalk no one in particular these days, but somehow I have not minimized the time I spend on Facebook in the process!

Instead, I Facebook myself. I look at my own photos. I have too many tagged of myself, so I go and detag my own photos, all the while being vain and staring. Narcissism, indeed!

I actually like the new layout of the new Facebook, although I believe that people update their status a bit too much. Predictably, so. Tell me if I’m close:

Sunday night/ Monday: “I’m sad the weekend is over.”

Tuesday: “I wish it was Friday.”

Wednesday: “I can’t believe it is only Wednesday.”

Thursday: “Yay! Tomorrow is Friday.”

Friday: “The weekend is here!”

Saturday: “PARTY” “WEEKEND” “SHOPPING” “I regret what I did on Friday.”

Sunday: “I will never drink again.” “Can’t believe the weekend is over” “I will work harder on my job/school/life.”

Sprinkled with American Idol commentary on Wednesdays, give or take a few “I miss my boyfriend/ I think my girlfriend is pretty” (THESE ARE LAME. NO ONE CARES. STOP WRITING THIS. IF YOU THINK THIS IS SWEET, GET A LIFE.) Every so too-often, I see a, “I got engaged!!!” where I predictably add my congratulations to the pile! My friends who are teachers often post about their kids, that’s fine, but not too exciting, but I recognize your hard day/unruly children.

Ultimately, my cursor drifts over back to my OWN profile button, where I click, go and look at something else, before I return and narcissistically stare at my own photo. Read more of the same status updates. Click back to my profile. Rinse and Repeat x 100 = my day with Facebook. Just admit it, you posted your status on Facebook because you like seeing it online.

Goodwill, a beginning.

I donated 150 books and 2 pairs of shoes to Goodwill today. I bagged the books in plastic grocery bags in groups of ten and then packed them all in my trunk. Then I drove 10 mins to Goodwill where this awesome burly man took them from my trunk all the while thanking me. He was like.. "did you read all these books?" and I was like... "they're from all around my house." Then he replied, "so you didn't read them?" I finally acknowledged them by clarifying to him that I had, in fact, read all 150 of these romance novels. Smut smut, dirty smut. I hope he's just the muscle and he doesn't have to sort through them. Why did I have to be so disagreeable to such a nice man? It's obviously because I know that in a sort while, this admiring tone with change to horror and disgust.

Oh well. It feels amazing! I celebrated by going and buying some empty containers. Wow, my life. IT IS EXCITING.

If you love Chinese for the chicks... go here.

Taipei, Taiwan... or as E! calls is, Pleasure Island. The sad thing is, I, too, have been known to call Taiwan pleasure island, but I believe for different reasons. The following 2 min and 55 secs will either disgust you or make you hungry for so much more. Get ready for some laughs.

Some notables:

This video is called Asian Invasion.

This video is a tour of Taipei's Hooters.

"We have special shows everyday…. Our shows you cannot see in the US."

These girls are Hooters girls with NO tits or ass. They are sticks with fair to poor English. They can hula hoop with up to 30 - some around their neck or their knees. They are wearing sheer sparkly hosiery - like figure skaters.

According to this video, being able to limbo is a sign of prowess and earns you a pitcher of beer.

All the men in this video make me break out into hives.

The Asian Ass is not something to accentuate. Jesus. This is not one of the reasons creepers like AZN babes.

I have never been here, but now I want to. Especially since I look nothing like any of the women in this video.

A pon-pom dance... REALLY?

This is a clip from Wild On... and even Brooke Burke couldn't show up because it was so horrifying.

Enjoy!

P.S. If you knew there was a Hooters in Taipei before you saw this, consider yourself a creeper of first water.

Friends in Taiwan, please stay clear of men like this. This man in particular. Thank you.

My name is Christine. I have a clutter mentality.

First, I read this. Then, I realized whoever Gretchen Rubin is (see photo), girl speaks the truth.


These are the excuses that she says clutterbugs often say to her when she is de-cluttering their places:

“This is perfectly useful, I can’t just throw it away.”

This is everything that I own. Why does one person need 25 Delta goodie packs, 20 binders, looseleaf notebook paper, notecards, pens pens pens, toiletries that I can never use, purses that are out of style, random toys that are unacceptable to own, that I never liked in the first place.

“One day, this might come in handy.”

All the arts and crafts stuff that I own that I hardly ever use. Ribbons, scissors, cloth, glue, markers, colored pencils, pens, stencils, kits, electronics that are no longer in vogue, headphones from the planes, CD cases, small lotions/perfumes/soaps, ketchup packages, broken top halves of cosmetics - for the mirror....


“I need to buy a special gadget to help me get organized.”

I have already created an IKEA shopping list. I am going tomorrow.


“This holds a precious memory.”

Everything else I own. Maps, train tickets, brochures, boarding passes, photos, t-shirts (which I now use to stuff my handbags), knick-knacks, kitchyshit, toys, ceramics I made that should never be seen, wedding invitations, tickets to shows, metro tickets, business cards, pens that I stole (from Emirates Palace comes to mind).

My realization is this: most of my life can be divided into these categories - specifically toiletries, stationery, trash and momentos. If it's not one of the four - it's money (which I'm happy to have!)

Can my life truly be summed into these four things? Take a look around your room and tell me what meaningful things you have that I'm forgetting?

The problem is, I know what to trash but I can't bring myself to do it! TONS OF THINGS MUST GO TO GOODWILL. If you love to de-clutter, call me.

Tips I understand but am unable to follow. I have issues. HELP. I feel like once I move past this burden, I can be free to live. Save me! (I'm NOT sorry for the drama!)

Homemade Sweet Potato Chips Not So Sweet

How hard could making sweet potato chips be? In a moment of boredom, I searched Google for "bake your own sweet potato chips." Ain't no thang, ya'll. Slice, grease pan, lay out, salt, bake, flip = and 20 mins - voila!

In my mind, I imagined salty healthy homemade Terra chips. In reality, this kind of happened. Some were salty. They were homemade, but achieving the crisp factor that you take for granted in chips is harder than I thought it would be.

I sliced the sweet potato to as thin as possible before laying them out on the cooking baking pan. Some chips were thicker than others as the potato is not evenly a round. I sprinkled salt, then some garlic, and pepper on others. A little experimentation with flavors next hurt anyone. I set the timer for 10 mins, before I flip. In the meantime, I was slicing more sweet potatoes.

Why this is so frustrating is because a HUGE bag of Baked Lays costs $3bux and 20 mins to get them. They are tasty, "baked", delicious and have the beautiful color of bleached potatoes.

My sweet potato chips, hardly ever achieved that similar crispness without half of the chip being brown/burned. Those are the ones that are crunchy, the rest had crunchy walls but limp centers. Worst of all, I didn't want to make just one sweet potato, I made 4 - this total process took 2 hours and I have about... a bowl of chips that I'm thoroughly tired of eating, as I've been sampling from every stock for the past 120 mins.

The garlic ones mixed with salt taste the best. What I've realized that, although it is pretty simple to make them, with very basic ingredients. (Have a sharp knife.)... it's ultimately a science I'm not willing to perfect.

Plus, what I realized is what I loved about sweet potato french fries was the awesome ranch that I could dip it in, which nullifies any health factor that I was hoping to achieve with this effort. I probably will never do this again, but I'm glad I did. It did satisfy the curiousity I had every time I saw a bag of sweet potatoes.

These are my chips. I kept the skin on, more nutritious this way.


sighhhhhhhhhh. back to cleaning.

Perfume Samples, a Cruel Addiction

If someone offered to you an easy way to acquire free perfume in any fragrance of your choice, wouldn't you take it?

Have you always wished to know what Insolence smells like? How about determining whether or not Very Irresistible, is in fact, resistible? Do I? I do!

Over the past two years, I have been able to finagle free perfume samples from Sephora like nobody's business. They're so convenient, you can take them traveling, you can leave them in your car, in a purse, whatevs - you know... smell nice all the time.

This is my problem: I don't like the idea of smelling nice when I know no one will smell me. When I'm alone.... I don't need to use $55/1 oz. (via Sephora.com) on a rainy day when all I plan on doing is going to the gym and cooking for party of 1. As I'm cleaning my closet - which has now been extended out to random parts of my room... I am finding tons of these convenient bottles, all of which are unused.

Plus, aren't girls supposed to have a signature smell? Not an odor - as an Asian girl, I luckily do not sweat that much, nor do I have a necessarily distinctive natural smell. Everything I use is unscented. Ironic, hm? Why do I obsess about unscented beauty products when I am obsessed with parfums? OH dear. So I should just use one. But I can't decide which one. Hanae Mori is nice - but too much vanilla, too sweet = too young.. ack! Not sweet enough and it's not appealing to me. There are day scents and night ones...The choices!

Plus, some people are very sensitive to smells and I don't want to offend with something I think is sexy (like Prada!) and have them rubbing their nose all day/night. AND you're not supposed to wear them to places where you will be with a lot of people because who likes smells to mingle together? [Side note: I am always sitting next to some chick who didn't get that memo and sprayed her whole damn body with some cheap bonky ass body spray. There are rules for a reason!! ]

I think 50 samples is a few too many? My hoarding tendencies are too strong!!! ... Back to my cleaning dungeon :(

Sascha Baron Cohen as...BRUNO!

Please read here. Then, tell me you will join me on July 10 in watching the movie. Incredible.

Random Cleaning Spree = Disaster (very long)

Yesterday, after I attended a friend's wedding shower, I was suddenly inspired to clean my closet. The condition of my closet has been horrible for about the past half-decade. My closet has a few uses other than just a-place-where-clothes-go. It's also a place to "temporarily" store things after I returned from college, or a place to put snacks to eat later (fat kid!), a place to shove hand bags which I will obvi use later!

Confession 1: my closet hasn't been cleaned by me, ever. When we used to have Hedwig, our gay, black, lazy man maid from Swaziland, he would occasionally go in there, straighten things out. Part of his audition to be our maid was to clean my closet and what a success it was. What I didn't know until about.. 1pm this afternoon was what a lazy sneak he was. I have about 20 year old art supplies stored in the corners of my closet which is a 5x4 room. There were binders and books and trash up on the shelf.

Until yesterday, the only thing I was using in my closet were the bars, which were in danger of caving in. The shelf was stocked full of things I hadn't touched in 5 years and the floor, well... the floor was covered. Like... covered to the point where I had enough room for my foot to go in, balance and then hang stuff on the bars.

These are the things I discovered lay on the floor: a bag of underwear that I put in a trashbag freshman year in college and put in a laundry basket - clean but haven't been touched in 5 years. Notebooks from various classes in college, art supplies (I already mentioned those), a asthma nebulizer, headband making equipment, 20 pairs of shoes, some Chinese phonebooks from 2002, piano books, Chinese books, quiz bowl encyclopedias, pens and papers from GHP 2003, random trash.

Now my primary question is this: what do I do with the binders that I have that are still in good condition? The packrat within shudders at throwing them away! They're still good! They have knowledge inside. I don't want to be wasteful - are they biodegradable? I'm never going to use them again - I should get rid of them, but HOW? Do you want them?

I need to donate my random children's books and romance novels. I have about 350 of them that need to go. Tell me if you want about 325 romance novels and 25 SVH, Animorphs books. Craigslist free stuff anyone?

I'm 12 hours into cleaning and I think I've got about 12 more to go. This is all I've done today. The original intention was to just reorganize my clothing, since I keep discovering clothes that I own that I don't wear, but want to. I have pulled out all of the things in closet and am not in the process of refamiliarizing myself with my own clothes and sorting them into categories. I used to just color code, but then all my black clothes ate each other and I just re-discovered ten things that I own that are black (my favorite color). My friends have helped in suggesting to be how I need to sort them, but I think most importantly what I need to do is build in more closet space - I will do this at the IKEA one day sale on Sunday.

First though, I do need to finish throwing away 20 year old art supplies, 10 year old lotions, and worksheets from 10th grade. I suppose there's no point in keeping my Latin binders anymore. R.I.P. Mrs. Ingram :(

Confession 2. I am a pen klepto - in every bag I own, which is quite a few - 50 is a nice round number?, I have found pens. Dozens of pens. Pens I bought, pens I stole. Pens and markers and pencils and erasers and paperclips...... I am never allowed to buy another pen again. (Speaking of erasers, what to do with my eraser collection?)

I keep finding cute tins full of crap that I was too lazy to sort through in the beginning. I look through them now and I still don't know what to do with them. I feel like the day I realize what to do with all my junk is the day I will finally reach nirvana.

I have accidentally embarked on a journey that will lead me to a better life? and kill my back in the process. Wish me luck.

Progress so far - my handbags!

Running on Empty: Never a Good one.

Have you ever tried to see how many miles your car can go after the needle points to the E? Just to see, you know? I have been the consummate coward when it comes to seeing how far because I don't want to be that person that stalls out in the middle of the road.

But I need to know how many miles my car can go on an entire tank of gas - even after it hits empty.

Many times I have come close - it's hit empty, and I just don't feel like stopping to get gas. One time, it involved me driving back from Atlanta to Athens from a Braves game. It's the middle of the night, it's raining, I go the wrong way, so not only am I on empty, but I'm freaking lost. Fortunately I have a friend yelling at me the entire time... and the benefit of gas stations NOT staying open 24 hours in Georgia. Then, I have this gas gauge that is indecisive on whether or not it is actually empty. The light with shine, then dim for a mile, then shine, repeat for about 10-12 times before I start praying to whoever will listen and have a gas tank on hand.

Unfortunately, I don't have a VW that will tell me how many miles I have left. I've heard you get 40 miles after you hit E - or is it 20? SHIT.

This leads me to a life learning lesson that nearly occurred to me yesterday. Too lazy again to get gas after an impromptu trip to a friend's house left me JUST enough gas to get there and back... factoring some constant x's... fair weather and traffic.

I depart and drive on my merry way. The light starts its ambiguous shine about 2 miles into my journey - I think 'Okay - I can JUST make it.' I try to conserve gas, not having the AC on even though it's getting foggy in my car, not accelerating or braking suddenly, staying calm by listening to some Feist.

I'm on the highway, keeping my car until 2.5 RPM when I suddenly come to a halt. I'm on the phone with my friend and make her check the traffic. I've driven 16 miles post the light shine. She reports that it will take about 30 mins to clear. I'm a mile away from the accident which is a mile away from the exit that it is blocking which is 500 feet from the closest gas station. I get off the phone to start praying.

It's also raining.

Ironically, I'm listening to Jamie Foxx's Blame it on the Aaaaaalcohol - and I curse my laziness. Maybe it was the alcohol that caused three right lanes to be blocked right before Brockett on a drizzling Saturday night. I hate myself.

I call my dad to tell him I will be later home than expected. He tells me it's my own fault for wanting to go out on a rainy night. I am furious and hang up. Return to praying/ singing along to Britney.

20 mins later, I've moved myself over to the left most lane, just in case my car stalls, I can be in the shoulder. I wouldn't want to be the girl trying to push my car on neutral on the freeway in the dark.

10 mins later, I start moving and I debate what to do. I send up a promise, if I can just make it to my exit, I will stop immediately to get gas. I chug along, honking at this car that brakes suddenly in front of me, making me burn whatever sweet gas is left in my tank. Please please please. The light turns off. I breathe.

30 seconds later it shines, even brighter? Or is that my eyes playing tricks on me? At this point, I could be hallucinating. The needle moves to WAY belong the last tick. It's practically striking through the E.

I make it to my exit, coast around the turnaround and stop at the Shell. 5$ later, and my gauge moves above the E, to the last tick. Crisis averted. Panic attack postponed. I believe I am no longer curious.

AT&T Hands Ads

If you've been to the airport recently, chances are you've seen one of the AT&T ads promoting their wireless international roaming. I love them, but they were something that I forgot the moment I moved past. Randomly, on my way to Istanbul, I wrote a note in my notebook to research these ads and I found a few that I hadn't seen before. As a rabid consumer, I always enjoy eye-catching adverts. Bravo, BBDO!

Substitute Teacher - Substitute or Teacher?

As many of you may not know, during this time of unemployment, I have gone and gotten certified to substitute the children of Gwinnett County. This certification involved FIVE RIGOROUS!!!!! hours of mind-numbing training. If by training, you mean me bashing my brains out and learning nothing - the only benefit is now I can legally substitute teach grades K-12 for up to 15 days in a row.

I know that I’m far from brilliant but I believe that I have realistic expectations on what a substitute teacher is. Much more a substitute, less a teacher. My recollections on what a sub does involves, movies, tests, and sitting in the corner and keeping busy all the while we, as unruly children, misbehaved to our fullest. Now that I’m on the other side, I fully intend to be that cool sub. The one that gets things done but is not someone’s mom, is not power hungry – because let’s face it, we get paid $87 a day – the only hungry I am is in my stomach from being poor. This seminar led me to realize that many other people’s expectations as a substitute teacher are far from realistic. They want to teach. They want to touch these children. I laughed when I heard this comment. No one else seemed to understand the humor.

When I arrived this morning for my quickie seminar, I took a quick glance at the substitute population and my heart dropped. Have I really come this far in my schooling only to land so low? Last week I was riding high in Istanbul, this week, I’m sitting in a room being interviewed by a man with the last name Crapo (I’m NOT kidding.). I thought that I would see many of my peers, my unemployed new college graduated peers. To my dismay, I was treated to a cast of rejects, ranging from morbidly obese housemoms to barely literate angry women, and of course, the consummate morning brown-noser who is ALWAYS IN A GOOD MOOD. As a morning person myself, I wanted to slit his gay-voice throat. I discovered the only thing worse that a gay voice – is the Southern version, the know-it-all, slightly slow gay voice. Disgusting.

Then came the confusion on the dress code. The email I received mentioned something called business casual. I’m positive business casual is something that involves, skirt, close toed shoes, a blouse and hair brushing. Tell that to the haggard house mom who showed up in gardening jeans, flip flops and a t-shirt. I woke up early to blow dry my hair so that it was all flipping to the same side and I encounter THIS. This offends my sartorial sensibilities to the extreme as about ½ of the 16 people attending this seminar have disregarded dress code as merely a suggestion. My professional heart shudders.

Anyway, in this seminar, we were treated like 1^st graders, getting reward tickets for answering questions. Split in groups of 4, we read paragraphs and were expected to be able to summarize them to teach them to our group mates. Not so hard? Yeeeeeeah. Not so hard for those that can read. I haven’t encountered that much blustering in my life.

One woman, whose name is Janise – pronounced Ja-neice – was on THIS side of literate, she could read, but not really comprehend what she was saying. Other than being blinded by her aquamarine ruffled blouse, my head nearly exploded by trying to listen to her speak. She had 2 pages to summarize and couldn’t do it. I would say she was maybe, late 20s? She ended up reading a paragraph, trying to summarize the rest, giving up, skipping a paragraph, reading every third word of the next, going to the next page, before finally just reading everything out loud to the group. THIS IS MY SUB POOL. She demonstrated to me her inability to think on a higher plane beyond reading words. This probably means that she’s not that bad a driver, as she can comprehend the meaning of STOP. After a laborious 10 mins explanation of collaborative group work, she confessed that she was nervous – obvi explaining why she forgot how to summarize.

At one point, we’re writing on giant sticky notes stuck on the walls. I’m circling something and I accidentally draw on the wall with my Crayola, non-toxic, washable BOLD purple marker. My group members laugh nervously as I shrug. Washable for a reason, folks.

In the end, I signed up to sub in elementary, middle and high school. I figure I actually have a higher chance of getting hired since I still have contacts in these schools. I actually hope I get called in to sub an elementary Chinese language class. That might be awesome. My dreams are to go into an AP Euro class, perhaps AP World, or even AP English. Knowing my luck, I’ll get stuck with 7^th grade biology with girls who are nasty and like Miley Cyrus. If that’s the case, they don’t know what’s coming to them.

All I have to say is, if this is the substitute training, I can’t wait to actually get into a classroom.

The only question that remains is: who will pick me first?

Crisco... does a body good? (UPDATE)

As a recession moisturizer it does. I'm taking this 1 lb., $2.49 baby for a moisturizing ride of its life. This is day 1.

Before you think I'm too crazy - think of it this way. It has all natural ingredients, it's unscented, it even has 15% of your daily vitamin E - all in one tablespoon.

Wish me luck.

______
UPDATE:

After I put it on, it was quickly absorbed into my skin and this morning I woke up, with no dry patches on my legs, which usually happens after I apply lotion. Unline Vaseline, which is altogether too greasy, Crisco goes on and absorbs with no residue. I believe this blog says it best, stating that Crisco may even be better than Creme de la Mer.
Here are some comments from makeupalley.com that gives Crisco a 4.3 out of 5 - one of the most highly rated moisturizers on the website.

i love you. cards

I just received my i love you. cards in the mail. I'm about to spread them around with the help of spare change and postage.

I discovered them on dailycandy and sent for them from here. Two weeks later, I've gotten 25 cards in the mail that are hot pink with i love you. written simply on the front! Free.

I think she may be from Atlanta, a lot of the cards are all around Midtown and Athens. I think they give a good message. (OR whoever you give them might think that you're super creepy and file a police harassment report against you .... whatever).

Feel free to order them, she's sending them everywhere!

I can't be your favorite Asian.

Yesterday, I was asked by a Lutheran minister, “Now honey, do you speak English?”

My answer. Yes.

Here is my life story.

I am from Lilburn, GA. For the first ten years of my life, I interacted with three other Asian people in my elementary school. Karen, James, Loren. They were Korean and Vietnamese. The rest of the 200 people in my class were white. It may be safe to say that I have been able to safely acclimate myself to the American South.

My cousin, who is four years older than me, used to mock me constantly for having a dopey Southern accent thanks to Harmony Grove pre-school. Two hours of back-to-back episodes of Saved by the Bell on TBS combined with some Family Matters reformed me of that through my formidable years.

I don’t know how many times that I’ve been called Juan, which is a bastardization of my last name. What part of my existence makes someone think that I’m part-Hispanic? After being called Juan for about 13 years of my life, I have permanently corrected people how to pronounce my name, INCORRECTLY. I actually was inspired by this character, I think in a Nancy Drew chapter book that was Korean. Now, people pronounce my last name U-N, like the United Nations. It’s just a lot easier for people to digest and re-pronounce. (It also sounds like You win!) Who doesn’t like to have a name that’s basically – You win, Christine.

Then, dun DUN dun, I went to UGA. The Harvard of the South. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. At UGA, I met a ton of people that had never had a Chinese (Taiwanese) friend before. I joined a sorority with another girl, who was Korean, but adopted by a fam. To make things simpler, together, we became Asian.

This is where my downfall began. I have been referred as many a person’s favorite Asian. This is great at the time, usually this title is given during intoxication. But the reference stuck and no one thought to take a deeper look. The problem is this: you have only known one Asian person in your life. Me.

People in Cali, most likely do not have this problem that I do. I could never tell someone they were my favorite white person. Most all my friends are.. errrr. White. I cannot imagine this title working for anyone other than Asians.

What I’m saying is, I can be your favorite Asian, but if you feel like telling me, I would prefer if you dropped the Asian bit, and just let me be your favorite at the moment.

If you haven’t figured it out: I do speak English.

So do my parents.

And they are American citizens. They live here. IN AMERICA.

Avec Eric, Indeed

Please watch below this fine example of Eric Ripert, the chef of Le Bernardin in NYC, making a zucchini frittata. (retrieved from his blog)

Yummy! It looks easy too! I will be making this soon!

If you don't crave the dish itself, please pay attention to his amazing French accent. If you know anyone currently in possession of this accent, have them contact me.

A Letter to Chuck Bass

Dear Chuck Bass,

Why do I love thee?

Is it your thick bountiful hair? Is it your purposefully slow drawl? The way you rake over your soon-to-be conquests with your indolently thick-lidded eyes? What is it? I don’t even think you’re truly handsome.

Your foppish wardrobe is colorful (read: purple) and well-fitting. It’s the anti-hipster. The anti-black when in NYC black is always the new black. You’re supposed to be in high school, yet you act mature beyond your years. You’re rich, tortured, and you and Blair will never get together for more than 60 minutes at a time. You’re so sexy, even your creepy uncle is sexy by proxy of being related to you.

The sneer of your mouth, the tilt of your head makes my mouth go dry. I truly cannot fathom why you are so attractive to me… and yet……..

Don’t think I don’t know that you’re a fictional character on a television network that may or may not still feature Girlfriends and Martin. Moesha? Oh yeah. In real life, Ed Westwick has a British accent and he’s a below average in height actor who is a spokesperson for sneakers on the side. Ed may have made out with Drew Barrymore. He lives in Chelsea. He is not Chuck Bass.

All these factors aside, I loyally watch Gossip Girl every Monday night, and soon thereafter pray to whoever will listen – DO ME, CHUCK BASS. Chuck Bass, you are the yin to my yang. I don’t want you to treat me right because that’s not what you do. I want you to respect me. Then… disrespect me.

LOVE,

CHRISTINE

P.S. GG returns March 16!! Cannot wait!

P.P.S. The answer to Chuck's question? Yes. Please.

A Diary, a Journal, an Emo-explosion

What this blog will never be. Why not? Why not share my feelings on the internet? Why not expose to the WWW when I am sad, when I am mad, when I am glad?

Because, GOD, I have taken too much pleasure out of reading the diaries of other people. People that I know, marginally. People whose feelings have nothing to do with mine, and yet a sick twisted curiosity possesses me and most other people to read their trash. It's too easy and too much fun.

You're mad? Shitdamnmotherfuckingsoangry you have to post it on the INTERNET? oh NO. If you post it online, will the person in question read it, feel guilty about how they made you feel, then apologize to you? OR will they laugh, acknowledge that it was them to all their friends, and email them to show them how ridiculous you are?

Maybe if you're vague, I won't know who you're talking about. Sadly, that hardly works. It doesn't matter who someone else is talking about, I just like to read about it. That's why facebook is so popular with everyone. Who doesn't like to know everyone's business? Who doesn't like the idea of someone wanting to know about you? That's why I started this blog. I want people to want to know what I'M doing.

Don't get me wrong, if you have a blog that's just about you and what you're doing, I'll read it and I'll probably love it.

I like to know what my friends are up to. Plenty of those are entertaining and awesome. It's the ones that are cryptic and secretive - emo-explosions - that really keep me entertained. It astonishes me as to why people would want to share their nervous breakdowns on the internets. Writing is cathartic. It keeps your mind straight. I get it. (Again, more reasons why I started this bad boy.) But.... if you're really upset, perhaps typetypetypetypetypeeditclickpost is not the best way to handle things.

But I'm no doctor, keep doing what you're doing.

P.S. If you're interested in knowing what blog I'm talking about, you need only ask.

GG! Come back soon!

Justin Timberlake on Jimmy Fallon

Take a break from Istanbul! Funny and awesome clip. Justin Timberlake is kind of a douche, but he's got talent!

I love him.

Make sure to go to the promotion of Bud Light Lime at the 34 min 10 sec mark.

P.S. I totally stole this clip idea from Perez, BUT, my clip is longer and you get to hear the part I like.





SAD: Hulu killed the clip, if you want to see it, here's a bad version on Youtube.