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I watched Blade Trinity last week, and I learned something that day: most modern-day vampires are Asian. I am guessing it is because vampires feel the dire need to utilize the Asian man’s martial arts knowledge, despite the fact that vampires are historically imbued with supernatural powers. But I guess being able to turn into a bat is hardly comparable to the ability to do the Praying Mantis.

You know the Asian stereotype is getting overblown and over-depended upon when even vampire movies are getting in on the act.

 

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The phenomenon that is Self-Deprecating Humor…

Self-Deprecating Humor is like the multi-purpose answer to every question related to social interaction:

…How do I get this person to leave me alone?

…How do I get my boyfriend to pay me back?

…How do I tell this person they stink without hurting their feelings?

And the answer to all of these seemingly difficult questions is to answer truthfully, but hide all ulterior motives with a negative comment about yourself!

Example #1:

You are trying to let your roommate know that you don’t appreciate her leaving doodoo stains in the toilet bowl…

YOU SAY: Hey roommie, I think we need to start scrubbing the toilet because my syphilis germs are always sloshing around!

Example #2:

You don’t want to date your best friend…

YOU SAY: I wouldn’t make a good girlfriend…I mean, I complain all the time and all…plus I have syphilis.

Example #3:

You want to get out of your neighbor’s BBQ party…

YOU SAY: I can’t go…I have to get treated for my syphilis.

See? Through the blur left by the self-deprecating statements, no one can tell that you are trying to fulfill a purely selfish purpose! Everyone just thinks you are doing something for their benefit! Those idiots…

And yes, I have tried it before…not necessarily the syphilis excuse though. I would prefer to use vaginal warts, thank you very much.

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I took a laxative today…

Don’t ask me why…you should know why…

It was the worst decision I have ever made.

Imagine it the way I’m experiencing it: you take two tiny pieces of chocolate two hours before lunch. You eat, clean your apartment, and then find yourself going to the bathroom. It is painless, and you feel as if your insides are clean. You take two more little pieces, as the directions advise, and expect that the rest of your day will pass by comfortably.

You go to Costco and eat the samples from various vendors: a piece of Hot Pocket here, a snip of meatball there, and finish it off with four Pringles potato chips. You barely make it home before your stomach swells with noxious gas.

Run to the toilet! Run! Run! Run! You sit and wait for instant relief but find to your absolute horror that NOTHING COMES OUT! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING!

You shrivel in a ball and cry into a towel, “Why me! Why me!”

The nausea and cramping subsides after you let out some wet farts…and then you go and have dinner…and two Peptol Bismol tablets.

Two hours later, mild cramping starts to build as your stomach becomes a battle field for the war between Ex-Lax and Peptol Bismol.

You will run into the bathroom again, and having nothing come out, you realize your life sucks.

So is the story of my experience with Ex-Lax.

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Clash of the Titans…

I got yelled at by my apartment’s junior manager for feeding a stray cat. He’s not really a manager–more like a live-in janitor. And it wasn’t really a yelling either–it was more like a verbal beating in Mandarin.

It started when he rang my doorbell like a desperate lunatic. I didn’t even get my “Hello sir,” greeting out before he started yelling: “You can’t feed the cat out here! It will know you have food waiting, and it will always come back! Feed it in your house! I don’t ever, ever want to see you feeding it again!”

It came out as a barrage, and I wasn’t prepared for it at all. I couldn’t even apologize, or pardon the inconvenience of my actions–as is customary for respectful Chinese people. I just stood there, dumbfounded as this man practically made a scene in front of my apartment.

When he was done, and I bowed, he said: “You had better remember my words…”

After he left, I wondered if I should have told him to shut the hell up. Or at the very least told him not to speak to me like that. The way he scolded me was like he was talking to a child–and granted, I am the youngest person living here, but I pay my own rent and my own bills. And if I make a mistake, then fine, tell me about it–but do not speak to me like I am your subordinate.

As I replayed witty comments I should have made at him, I realized something….

Perhaps my wanting to stand up for myself was a shadow of my American upbringing trying to expose itself…perhaps if I had spoken my mind to this janitor, I would have been completely disrespecting him as my elder in terms of Chinese tradition.

When, then, is it appropriate for me to have spoken my mind? Or should I have not even bothered to at all?

If you’re Asian, then everything is somehow linked to your elders…Always be courteous or else your parents will look bad…Don’t slouch or else your elders will look bad…Don’t burn down the temple or else your ancestors will look bad…etc. There really is no such thing as taking responsibility for your own mistakes because your ancestors will be there regardless of whether or not it affects them.

So, if I were to complain to about being treated so poorly, would my grandfather be upset? Would my parents be defiled? Would I even get the respect I deserve, or would I just become another target for age discrimination?

These Nyquil-induced writings are not helping me…

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Sweet! I just found out I was nominated for another Xanga award! My category? Of course it had to be…

 Most likely to appear on Saturday Night Live or Funniest Xangan

Oooh!!! No voting allowed! I think the nominees just get cast off ala Reality TV style until one is left standing…hmm, I wonder if I can get into cahoots with one of the other nominees so that we may form an alliance and snuff out other nominees’ torches.

Now, I may be jumping to conclusions here, but I would like to give a thank you speech to all those who made my site possible:

  • Ugly Asian hoes
  • Asian gangstas
  • Impacted wisdom teeth
  • Bad screennames
  • Crappy Xanga entries
  • Grammatical errors (with special recognition to “their” and “they’re”)
  • Fake import models (the fat kind)
  • Sluts
  • People who hog washers/driers
  • Repetitive picture posting
  • Mango thieves
  • Famous Americans who hate America
  • People who hate my Xanga
  • Lame ass Blogrings

And anyone else I forgot to mention, my thanks and impenetrable loathing go out to you too!

Oh and of course: ME! For my impeccable brilliance and awesomely bad supriority complex! As well as my off and on anxiety attacks, eating disorders, and bipolar tendencies. I am just too great!

I hope I win!

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A few golden apple moments in the news…

46 year-old man jumps into a lion’s den at the Taipei Zoo. He tries to convert the lions to Christianity, only to find himself bitten on the leg in defiance. *The lion looks so mad*

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[The] candidate who receives the most votes nationwide does not necessarily become president. There is no national election for president, only separate state elections. For a candidate to become president, he or she must win enough state elections to garner a majority of electoral votes. presidential campaigns, therefore, focus on winning states, not on winning a national majority.

It also means that — at least in theory — electors can thwart the popular will and vote for a candidate not supported by the voters of their state.

By choice, I am relinquishing my opportunity to vote in this year’s election. Now, before you start to comment, let me made lay down a few ground rules:

  1. People who complain about how I didn’t use my “voice” can go to hell.
  2. People who claim that my vote makes a difference can go to hell too.
  3. People who try to make points about Bush or Kerry can shove those points up their ass.
  4. People who tell me who they voted for will be banned.
  5. Anyone who goes and calls me unpatriotic and unsupportive of our troops—well, I have never cared about your opinions, and I’m not going to bother refuting such assumptions.

So why the no vote? To put it quite simply, I am beyond undecided. My parents, being small business owners, will suffer if Kerry wins. There is also suspicion that he will reinstate the draft if possible. On the other hand, Bush has put us in a war that we should no longer be involved with, and has made it clear that his certain decisions are based on religious beliefs. I do not agree with any of these issues, but they are my main concerns…and both are weighted equally.

Thus I will not vote, and will just let the electoral college do what it has always done—choose our president for us. What is voting really worth then? Practically nothing on a national level…but on a state level, that’s another story. I guess it’s up to you if you feel the need to stand in line for hours just to punch holes in a piece of paper.

Who knows? Tonight we may have an incumbent president, or a new one. Either way, neither of them will truly benefit me.

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Bear with me as I try to make a point…

Me, at a crazy ass party with Friend-You-Don’t-Care-About #1 and Friend-You-Don’t-Care-About #2

Me, at another crazy ass party with Friend-You-Don’t-Care-About #1, and Friend-You-Don’t-Care-About #2.

Me, at yet another crazy ass party with Friend-You-Couldn’t-Care-Less-About-By-Now #1, and Friend-You-Couldn’t-Care-Less-About-By-Now #2

Look! We have “alkie” and therefore we are hard-core partiers!

Wow! Friend-You-Don’t-Care-About is smoking! He is so gangsta!

This is what it looks like when I see those Xangas where people have uploaded pages worth of pictures that all look the same: party scene with drunk girls and red-faced boys. Then there’s some kind of ghetto ass caption like “Carlita is sooo sexy! Hot mama!” or “We be down wit da in crowd!” or something. The pictures are never without alcohol, lesbianism, and girls striking poses with their guts hanging out.

I am opposed to these sites because (1) I don’t care, and (2) they’re boring as hell. While I am someone who believes in allowing everyone their own creative freedom, putting up pictures of the same old crap is neither creative nor very, how do I say this nicely…modest.

While someone may put up many pictures because they want to share their wonderful experiences with the world, subconsciously I think it’s just a tool people use to show off how “popular” they are. What a wild child this person must be if all they do is frequent clubs and hang out with “hot mamas” and “gangstas.” Wow…don’t we all strive to be more like them?

Umm…no, ho, we don’t. In fact, I prefer to just not read any Xangas at all for fear of running into such “Dumbass Material” that may insult my intelligence. Because there is no way in hell I want to be someone who puts up 1,000 pictures in a shameless and degrading bid for attention.

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I do my best to be open-minded…

But then someone has to go and leave their clothes in the drier 45 minutes after the machine has gone off.

You know who you are, you lazy asses. You are doing two loads of laundry in two separate driers. One started 10 minutes ago, and the other one only has 15 minutes left before the timer goes off. Rather than make two trips to get both loads, you decide to wait 35 minutes for the first drier to finish up so you can get both batches at once.

You do this knowing fully that you are leaving your already dried clothes in the drier for an extra 35 minutes as you wait for the undried clothes to catch up.

What happens? People like me, in apartment complexes that provide only one washing room with two washers and two driers, end up waiting 35 more minutes for you to get your clothes out before they can put their wet laundry into the driers you are hogging.

Do you know what happens to wet laundry? It starts to stink. The moisture just gets old and nasty and stinks. So guess what my clothes smell like right now? Like someone made me wait a long ass time before I could use a drier.

Lucky for me the wash room is right next to the garbage bin. Next time this happens I’m just going to start chucking clothes into the trash.