Favorite Texts From Nick Lately.

People should know about these communications with my gay husband, no?

"You shall buy me a few drinks" - I left some stuff at his house when I visited over Easter weekend.  He mailed them to me, and this was his payment in lieu of.

"Peggy is about to get slapped" - Nick is a big deal attorney and he has a big deal secretary whom he only appreciates when I remind him to.  I don't know her name, we call her Peggy.

"Doing a juice cleanse, wish me luck" - I've been harping at him about smoothies and juice for years.  He's into it, now!

"I think I'm buying a Prius today.  I'm so gay." -Just the most precious angel I've ever known.

"Decided to get a much nicer one" -Now THAT'S the GAYdicator, amIright?!

I hope every guy and girl out there have a gay husband with which to correspond in such love. 

My Superclose Cousin Ren

What if....

the way Renee Zellwegger looks....

....is the most elaborate Asian joke there ever was??

I mean, I am as genetically Asian as a girl can get, and I still have to squint in order to impersonate her.

You think she is just sitting at her house, laughing at how no one has accused her of it yet?  She just traipses around Hollywood with those slanty-ass eyes, booking those white girl roles and subliminally bragging to the real Asian girls??  If this is true, it's genius.  Evil genius, but brilliant nonetheless.  

I Cut the Power.

SO, for all of you unaware out there, let me just explain to you a little bit about Being an Asian Girl:  

{illustrated by me, all rights reserved. ha.}

We are not known for our bodacious bods.  The truth is, the bust and butt of my clothing is often full of nothing but air, and my beach looks can only be described as "She Might Be Carrying a Load Back There/Hey Diaper Butt".

So we can't share closets with Beyonce, and sometimes our bodies are compared to that of 12 y.o little boys.  But hey, we have HAIR.

{photo source}

Every gal has her source of power, and for us slantys, it's usually all tied up in our shiny straight locks.  It's always sleek, grows like crazy, and requires no de-frizzing.  As long as my hair is clean, it's done.

Well, then I went and did this:

I cut off my source of power.  What can I say, it was a crutch.  Now I really have no physical feminine wiles to display; I'm gonna have to be liked for my personality.  Gulp.  I can't even pretend like I had the idea; I was only inspired when I sat down in Coco's chair for my usual reshape and she asked if we should really just do it.  

Well of course we should!  After all, the benefit of taking risks is usually not in the result of taking it, but in the practice of rocking your nerves, ya know?  I wasn't so much interested in having short hair; I just wanted to make myself feel weird about it so that I can continue learning to tolerate feeling weird.

Let me tell you, I sure ain't gettin fat with this haircut.  Having above-chin hair means that you lose the option of having a supple neck and face.  I just keep remembering that if I get fluffy, I might look like this guy:

{photo source)

                                                     .......and thereby lose powers completely.  Double Gulp.

A Vulcan's Nipples are like Humans.

This is why LA is so cool for twentysomethings, and way too cool for kids: when you go see the new StarTrek film on opening weekend at your neighborhood landmark theatre, your ticket gets ripped by Spock, crazy nipples and all.  Such a tender moment.

So My Husband has a Boyfriend.

{Here we are, watching his BF Aaron do yardwork}

Hey Gals!  Unattached with no prospects?  Yearning for male company without the threat of sexual exploitation?  You need a Gay Husband.  My Gay Husband is the best and I bet you want to know why:

1. He likes to do most everything I like to do.  We love to travel, hike, eat great food, ride bikes, gossip about all of the crazy bitches we knew in college, and argue over which men are more attractive than other men.  
2. He's super handy to have around.  When we went to Peru together, he knew enough Spanish that I never had to worry about getting voluntarily sold into slavery through language barrier induced miscommunications. 
3. He claims he doesn't want kids, but I know he would spoil the crap out of mine.
4. His sister is the same age as my sister, so the "This is the Annoying Thing my Sister is Doing Lately" conversations are basically endless. 
5. He'll tell me when I'm being a dumb wench, and I need that.  I tell him when he's being a snobby brat.  He needs that, too.  

Our Math was Always Wrong.

{circa 2001}

{circa three days ago, 2013}

Well aren't these two a pair?!  Terry Lynn and I have been basically inseparable since 9th grade, when we were paired to learn Trigonometry together.  I admit that I still don't know the difference between sines, cosines, and tangents (BAD BAD ASIAN), but I definitely ended that year with a new best friend.  Since then, we have been through:

1.  Three full length NSYNC albums (No Strings, Home for Christmas, and Celebrity), and all subsequent solo ventures by Justin Timberlake
2.  .....the heartbreak when Lance Bass came out.  He was our fave!
3. The sensation of her epic 16th birthday party.  Everyone at school came, I wore platform white sneakers, she was the belle.
4. Both of us leaving our tiny little private Christian high school, in favor of public funding to head straight to Eastern Wash U for our Jr and Sr years of high school.  We got in lots of trouble.
5. Both of us getting arrested at 4am on the side of a highway during the first snow of the year.  She was indignant, I was devastated that my political career was then over before it ever started or I had ever wanted one.
6. A few engagements to the wrong dude on her part, a few terrible dating stories on my part.
7. A period where we couldn't even like each other, and basically only communicated through our maintained relationship with her mom, whom we always shared no matter what.
8. A reunion and a shared apartment as full on post-grad adults.  Frequent congratulations to each other and reassurances that we already knew Everything.
9.  The birth of my goddaughter. When she told me, "Soooooooo, we have something to tell you...", I snorted and barked "what, you guys are pregnant."  Isn't that such a sweet story?
10. Seeing each other less and less, as I started to run around the country and world more and more.....
11. Picking up right where we left off, every single time.
12. Getting fat (see multiple chins in first photo)
13. Getting fit (see single chin in second photo)
14. Showing her that old photo and she groans, "I see why my mom kept telling me my eyebrows were too thin....."
15. Watching her finally meet the Guy, sighing with relief that he's not like All the Others.
16. ..... and in November, standing beside her as she marries that dude!  I bet I won't even cry.

oh NO.

Mom at age 24.  As endless as my ability to squawk about how I am my own person, that the Chinese people DO have variations in their faces and I'm so much more a evolved human than any other Fresh Off the Boat immigrant.... there's no denying that that's my nose up there.  and chin.  and ears.  Grooooooaaaaann.

I Spelled Sequoia.

I finally got my ass into the mountains and camped in California!  Over Memorial Day weekend, a few lovelies and I wound our way into the Sequoia National Forest for a few days of gourmet camp food, fireside singalongs (no, we really did that), and fricken freezing nights.  We had brilliant sun during the day, but the nights were below freezing.  I slept in two pairs of socks, my Uggs, a sleeping bag, and a heavy blanket.  At an altitude of 5500 feet, I guess that's fair.  It felt so great to get out of LA for just a minute, and reestablish that I am totally the kind of girl that can poop in the woods and like it.  Dirtball for life!  Fellas, please make an orderly line and leave your gifts at the door.

Extra Extra Read All About It

The headline reads:  Maid of Dishonor appalls unsuspecting wedding guests; wears otherwise classy dress scrunched up at her hips.

When questioned, she squawked that she needed the added range of motion in her legs that the restrictive sheath silhouette could not provide.  Furthermore, she blamed the wedding DJ for playing beloved hits from the 90s that she could not merely shuffle ladily-like to.  She cited reasonable logic in her decision making, as children had not been welcome at the celebration, and thus were not in danger of being influenced by the surface area of her exposed thighs.  It should be noted that all of the fun guests were understanding, but the boring people took offense.  At the end of the night, the MoD showed remorse only that she would look like a giant hair scrunchie in all of the wedding photos, and it will probably lead to her dying alone in her impeccably furnished beach house.  

An Immigration Story.

{Can I Instagram on this thing?}

As a post grad, Dad was thrilled to get to come to the States as an exchange student to the University of Minnesota's graduate school.  

This was a huge deal; he grew up during the Cultural Revolution, and was the first person he or anyone he knew had ever heard of that was able to leave China.  Literally no one he had every encountered had ever had any reference for moving beyond the Land of the Not Free.  

So when he made his travel arrangements, he had to get the flight information to the university staff who were coming get him.  Dad had no idea how to place an international phone call; didn't even know it existed as an option.  So he sent the UM Dept of Agriculture a telegram, detailing his arrival time and flight number.  A TELEGRAM!  Like Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman!  This was 1985!

He got on the plane (requisite small amount of cash in his pocket) and arrived at MSP, looking around expectantly for someone who might be looking for him.  Nothing.  After a while of waiting, no one was there for him.  So he wandered over to the payphone area of baggage claim, busy with bustling travelers calling family and making plans.  He spots a young mom trying to place a phone call while keeping hold of a rambunctious toddler running circles around the phone booths.  As he tells it, he strikes a deal with her through a series of pantomimes and broken Chinglish:  he will watch her kid so she can place her phone call, and then she will help him call someone to come get him.  The arrangement worked perfectly, and dad was able to get ahold of the professor who was in charge of him.  Two weeks later, this same professor comes by my dad's desk in the research lab where he was working.  He chuckles, and drops the telegram my dad had sent in front of him.  He told him it was the first telegram he had ever received.  Ha!  Isn't that embarrassing?!