Holy Crap, I'm Tired

5 Vodka Martinis

+

2 shots of tequilla

+

1 weird-tasting lime flavored beer

+

1 joint

=

One TIRED-ASS TCho with a pounding headache!

TCho's Late Take On Important News

While surfing the internet (don't ask me what I was searching for), I came across this two year old story about a Dr. Breedlove who claims to be able to create gay rats or rats "showing much more feminine behavior." By the way, "Breedlove" has to be made up. It's almost too cute of a name. Like Bernard Made-off.

I can only imagine what the conversation between two of Dr. Breedlove's rats might be like:

Rat 1: "Where the hell were you?"

Rat 2: "The guy in the white coat took me to the other cage for some tests."

Rat 1: "Are you ok? You don't look so good."

Rat 2: "I feel a little weird."

Rat 1: "Here, have some water."

Rat 2: "Ewwww, that water? It's been sitting out for days. I want a Cosmo. Oh and what is up with those woodchips over there, bitch? They're all soggy and icky."

Rat 1: "What are you talking about? We always drink that water. And who cares about the woodchips?"

Rat 2: "You know, this place is a mess!"

Rat 1: "A mess? It hasn't changed in 2 years."

Rat 2: "So what do you want to do tonight?"

Rat 1: "I don't know. Run on the wheel. Sleep. The usual."

Rat 2: "Booooring. Let's do something fun."

Rat 1: "Like what?"

Rat 2: "Let's go dancing!"

Rat 1: "We're rats. We don't dance. We eat and we sleep."

Rat 2: "OMG, do we have any ice cream. I shouldn't eat it though. I'm getting so fat."

Rat 1: "Um, you're acting really...."

Rat 2: "Do you think they have any low-cal rat food? I bet it's delish."

Rat 1: "I think you need to go take a nap. They gave you something strong this time."

Rat 2: "Ok, a nap sounds fab. Will you take one with me?"

Rat 1: "This is ridiculous. I'm going on the wheel."

Rat 2: "I'll miss you."

Oh. I Didn't Notice You There

You ever have one of those weeks (or days) where all of a sudden you wake up and it's the end of the week and you're like, "Huh? That went by fast." Actually, I don't really mean that you woke up and you can't belive it all happened so quickly. Instead I mean like you can't actually remember the past few days?

That's how I feel this month. I can't believe today is Christmas and almost the end of December. The recent days and weeks have been a blur, and not because of weeks of debauchery and me waking up with a bottle of Jack Daniels in my arm and shooing a strange cat out of my bathroom. Work has been batshit crazy, and then I had the longest cold in the history of all colds.

Today, I woke up and revisted some of my favorite blogs and discovered some new ones, which made me think, "Man I hope I didn't blog anything stupid in my own blog." And then I was relieved when I realized I hadn't really blogged anything.

I guess sometimes it's a good thing that I haven't been the best at keeping up with stuff around here. While this is supposed to be a quasi-account of my life, the bottom line is if it's not amusing, no one really cares. And sometimes I just don't feel funny. Sometimes I feel anxious, or sad, or unusual, or like a carebear. And Carebears aren’t really witty, they’re just cheerful, which isn’t all that interesting.

(As an aside, I learned today from watching VH1's I Love Toys that Carebears apparently had some sort of weapon of mass destruction that was like this beam of light that shot out of their chests and injected enough cheeriness into their targets to make them feel like Santa Claus on Prozac having an orgy. Geez, imagine what a Carebear on crack would do with that kind of power.)

I've also been checking up on Facebook and reading up on "Status Updates" from everyone. And I've come to cop out and write some short status updates for myself instead of sitting down at my blog, which is really all I've had time for lately. After all, it's not news unless it's on Facebook.

Not that I haven't tried to write something here. I have a few entries with a sentence or two. But in the style of Facebook, here are some updates on how I've felt over the past couple of weeks.

A Couple Weeks Ago - I Cleaned Out At The Saks Sale

SYNOPSIS: I felt like I was at an outlet store with bargain shoppers

EMOTION: Triumphant Carebear.

Last Week - Why I Love My Staple Remover

SYNOPSIS: Because it's tortoise-shell, and not enough things are.

EMOTION: Sad for the poor tortoises Carebear.

Last Friday - I Had Doughnuts For Lunch Today

SYNOPSIS: They were delicious.

EMOTION: Gross Carebear

Yesterday - Boy, Is Work An Absolute Clusterfuck Today

SYNOPSIS: That's about it.

EMOTION: Anxious Carebear

See? Why waste my time with 2,000 superfluous words? More importantly, why waste my precious emotional resources? A man shares only so much over the course of his life. While women may be renewable wellsprings of emotion and feeling, men are like small ponds. And as women and blog readers sip from them like deer in a forest, they are depleted until finally one day they are empty, which is the day you buy your first recliner. (Did any of what I just wrote make any sense?)

Besides, sometimes I don’t know what my goal is with all this writing and sharing. Maybe I'm starving for attention. Then again, I seem to be fine with being my normal old self. But take Rastus who is the guy on the Cream of Wheat Box. Rastus is actually Frank “Irony” White, a chef who posed for the box way back in 1900 when Cream of Wheat was actually made solely by black men in hats named Rastus.

Then, in 1938, Frank White passed away, a virtual unknown, with a blank gravestone. The man is on the Cream of Wheat box and he can’t even get a friggin “RIP, Rastus. Keep on creamin’ that wheat up in the Big Kitchen”? Finally, almost 70 years later, some guy started a campaign to get him a proper gravestone with an etching of the Cream of Wheat box on it.

My point being, if the goddamned face of Cream of Wheat can fade off into obscurity, even when it’s right there on the shelf next to the Farina kid’s face (whose name, by the way, no one knows – maybe it’s just a warm breakfast cereal curse?) then what’s the point of blogging? I like to aim all my actions at being remembered after I die, because let’s face it I’m into the “big picture” stuff. So if I have limited resources with which to entertain and an open-ended timeline for failure, why do I keep on trying?

Because if there's anything I know about the high price of fame, it's that I do not want to be chased by a band of paparazzi, only to jump into a nearby river for cover and hold my breath for 14 minutes as I swim to freedom. Then of course, once I get to shore, there is another group of nasty photographers waiting for me who shout "There he is! Get him!" I don't need to be caught on tape right now, even if I have just lost 5lbs from being sick.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Ugh

I am beginning to wonder if this cold that I have is the longest motherfucking cold in the history of all colds.

I know I haven't blogged in a while.  Will be back soon.

And This Guy Deserves His Very Own Post

Swoooooooooooonnnn.

And as a result of my lame attempt yesterday at the gym to develop an upper body like Daniel Craig's, my arms feel like they're going to fall off today.

Things That Go Bump In The Dark

Last night, I saw Quantum of Solace, with my dream boyfriend, Daniel Craig. As bad as the reviews were, this movie did not disappoint me at all. Then again, I think Daniel Craig could be catching flies, and I'd be first in line to watch him.

Anyhow, before the movie, I had spent the day being fairly active. I ran about 6 miles in the early afternoon, and then played about 90 min of tennis in the early evening, right before the movies. I cut it close and met my friends about 30 min before the movie started.

As we were watching, I felt a jolt of pain in my left hamstring. Fuck, it was a cramp and it was killing me. I sat up a little and then straightened out my leg and stretched it as much as I could. Then my friend turns and whispers to me, "Dude, are you playing footsie with your neighbor?"

Oops.

Bi-Partisan Voting

This past Monday, we had a company Potluck at work. Since starting my new jobs, I haven't been able to partake in one of my favorite hobbies. But I thought I would whip out the pots and pans for this event. I had decided to grill a few big steaks. Actually, when I was buying the steaks at my neighborhood Fairway, there was an announcement that all rotisserie chickens were "buy 1, get 1 free."

I resisted the temptation to take the rotisserie chicken shortcut and marched to the butcher, and immediately ordered "three London Broils." The butcher told me he had some more in "the back." Next thing I knew, he brought out a freaking cow and said my steaks would be "right up" in between all the hacking and chopping.

So my steak was a big success at the potluck, but get this. I tied for "Best Main Course" with Eggplant and Rice! What is up with that?!? Clearly, I forgot that by serving steak I'd be abandoning our company's important vegetarian contingent.

Wednesday Groove

I am like obsessed with this song:



Makes me think of all the cool things I could be doing.

One Of The Most Useless Places I've Ever Been To

This week I am in Bushkill, PA in the heart of the Poconos for a conference. I must say that this place has to be one of the most boring places on Earth. I thought there would be lots of rallies against our leader, or some folks from Dunder Mifflin, but there's pretty much nothing here. This place is probably one of those places that lists "foilage" as a tourist attraction. I'm sorry, but looking at leaves is NOT something I would take actual vacation days off work to do.

Let's just say that it's about as exciting here as a vacation in your own backyard with a box of Zinfandel and a Norah Jones CD.

I think I need to find these guys to show me the wild side of Bushkill.

Official: We're In A Recession

I went to Magnolia tonight to satisfy my sweet tooth. I kind of hate the fact that I'm addicted to the Magnolia that opened in my neighborhood for a variety of reasons. I hate the calories. And I hate joining the masses in the dessert that really stopped being cool when Carrie Bradshaw started eating them.

Tonight, I just had a craving and picked up a couple. But I swear, the cupcakes are smaller. They look like mini-muffins now.

Or maybe I'm just getting bigger.

My New Suitcase

I've been taking some trips down to Philadelphia, or land of the Tastycake, as I like to call it, for work lately. I went to college there, so I know the city well. The day before my last trip down there, I decided that I needed a new suitcase -- one of those small carry-on, rolling things that most people obnxiously bring on to planes, even though I have never seen one of these bags measure even remotely close to the airline guidelines for carry-ons. Since I take the Acela down to Philly, I wanted a small rolling bag and give my shoulders a break from buckling underneath heavy should straps.

By the way, I must declare unequivocally my love for the Acela. I wish I could take the Acela to work! My work is all of twenty-eight blocks from my apartment, but the Acela sure would make that trip nice.

Anyhow, I digress. A couple Saturdays ago, I embarked on my mission. I SCOURED every store in the city that I thought would have a bag to my liking. Everything was either too expensive, too ugly, too crappy or just plain too big. Of all the stores I visited though, I didn't go to an actual luggage store. For some reason, the thought never occurred to me to go to one of those stores.

The next day, Sunday, I decided to head to Ambassador Luggage near my work. The freaking place was closed. What place closes on Sunday in New York these days? I even see dry cleaners nowadays open on Sunday! Anyhow, since I was leaving in a few hours, I had to get a suitcase fast. I racked my brain and realized that the closest luggage store was Tumi over in Grand Central Station.

I sauntered in and immediately knew that this Tumi store was so small that there was no way I could pull off my typical routine of not being noticed and not noticing anyone else. The salesguy immediately latched on to me and started showing me every bag they freaking had. He even sent his helper guy downstairs to bring up some more bags (uh, zebra print? No thank you.) He was turning customers away, and telling them to wait while he helped me.

He was actually a very nice guy, and genuinely nice. You know, not like those crazy people who are so crazy that they actually appear sane. The kind who people refer to when they are questioned about a serial killer who used to be their neighbor, and they say, "He always seemed so nice, so normal."

He did have his moments though. At one point, he instructed, "Let's walk while we talk." And I'm thinking, "Walk where? This store is like the size of a bathroom." Then at another point, I asked him if he had a suitcase in blue, and he pulled out a grey one and said "Here's one," as if they were the same color. I imagine this is what interacting with a dog is sometimes like when you ask one to fetch something.

In the end, I picked a suitcase. Throughout the 30-40 minutes I was pondering my choice, I didn't even think about the price. I guess it's been a long time since I've bought a suitcase, because I just about had a heart attack when he informs me cheerfully of some price over $1,000! At that point, I was too embarrassed to not give him the sale. I mean he actually turned away other customers for me!

I think I'll start bringing it to work because I need to get my money's worth.

Welcome Back (Sort of)

Over the past few months, I've been fighting a losing battle to keep this blog alive. Sure I post here and there once in a while, but I really want to get back to writing the poorly constructed prose for which I am now oh-so-famous. Actually, when I announced my hiatus back in June, I got a few emails from some of the friends I've made over the couple of years that I've been a member of the blogosphere like, "Hope you're ok!" Or "what's wrong? Come back!" While this quasi-personal relationship I now share with my readers is great and profound, it's also a bit intimidating because before my readers were random people who I only assumed existed. Now they're real live people with real live email addresses that I plugged into Google, Friendster or Facebook (NOT Myspace because we just don't want to go there) to find out what their real live faces look like. So maybe it's only weird because I don't understand the boundaries between "taking a compliment" and "stalking someone." Ok, this is so not coming out the way I had planned.

Is there a lot to write? The question should be when is there isn't? I feel a bit rusty and feel excited like "excited for a sale at Target" rather than "excited for a sale at Barneys." I'm confident the blogging bug will come back though.

So what have I been up to? WORK! And sadly nothing else. I contemplated buying a dog, but realized that I like big dogs and fitting a dog like a Bernese Mountain Dog in my apartment would be like fitting a horse, and would probably knock me over.

And here we are at my comeback post. I'm trying to be ironic or sarcastic or witty or any of those words that I've been called. Actually I don't think I really know what any of those words mean. I just know that I make lame attempts at all those things, and get comments like "HAHA. I love you." That's the formula and we're sticking to it.

I suppose if someone comments, "Haha. I love you," we could get the sarcastic irony out of the way.

Damn, Nothing Good Ever Happens In Coach

I'm not going to go into specifics, but let's just say that I had planned to have a relaxing flight back home, having been stuck in a crowded plane on the way to Dallas and in a middle seat, no less. I never really minded the discomforts these days of flying our skies, despite the endless cutbacks, crowding and overall rudeness of passengers. I boarded my plane tonight at ginormous Dallas/Fort Worth Airport. I flew Continental, which I don't usually do because I hate flying into Newark. When I got to my aisle seat, a guy was already sitting there. He jumped and asked, "Would you mind switching seats with me?"

I looked to where he pointed and said, "No way. I don't want a middle seat." His wife interjects, and pleads, "Puhleeezee! I really need my husband to sit with me to help me with my daughter!" I was too nice and finally agreed. Forget the fact that their daughter had to have been at least 8 years old, and not like a two-month old baby.

We took off and were on our way back to New York (well, Newark, which ain't New York) and my new oh so helpful seat neighbors kept telling me, "I would have never switched." Yes, thank you neighbors for making me feel worse.

So I had some cabin rage stewing in me like a volcano about to explode. After I got off the plane, I passed by the family and the woman shouts out "Thank you!" I replied, "Yeah, ok."

You would think that would be it, and I would never see this crazy woman again. But she wouldn't let it go. She screams at me, "You know, when you do something nice, you're supposed to feel good about it!" Whoa. Back the fuck up. I turned around, and said,

"Ok, first you're telling me where to sit, and now you're telling me how I should feel?"

Crazy woman: "Why are you whining so much?"

Me: "Because people like you who think having kids gives you special privileges."

Crazy woman: "Stop whining. You need to get laid!"

Me: "FUCK YOU BITCH!"

At that point, a Continental Airlines person came by and asked, "Is there a problem here?" I replied "I'm not arguing with this woman anymore". Then I just walked away.

I have to stop flying in Coach.

Today is Sunday...

It's Sunday and almost 5PM.  I can feel the weekend slipping away, way too fast.

I hate this feeling.

Oprah Won't Let The Olympics Die

I'm fairly proud of my concierge skills, but even I don't think I could have pulled this off.  Somehow, Oprah got practically the entire US Olympic Team to come to Chicago.  When I saw the preview on my DVR, I thought it would just be the superstars like Michael Phelps, Nastia Liukin, or  Kobe Bryant.  But Oprah, of course, would never settle just for the big names.  She freaking brought EVERYONE.  Judo, Shooting, Cycling, Sailing, Equestrian, you name it, she had them there.  She even brought the bowlers, which actually I didn't even know was an Olympic Sport.

Oprah, of course, also took over Millennium Park, like only Oprah can and made a huge spectacle.  Leave it to Oprah to bring the Olympics BAAAAACCCCKKKK.

But she did forget one detail.  She forgot to tell the swimmers to leave their shirts at home.

I Know I'm Not Dumb But Geez

I was sitting on the S Shuttle today on my way home from a long day of work, when I noticed this guy sitting across from me, furiously and intently working on a Rubik's Cube.

Whoa, Rubik's Cube? It's back??? I swear, I never could get the hang of solving that thing and never really tried after a few turns. I was more the type who would do a few turns and then throw it against the wall and go outside to do something much more constructive.

But geez, this guy was working on his Rubik's Cube, like his life depended on it. And by the end of the ride, which is about as long as a Donna Summer song (I know this, thanks to the woman who brings her boombox on to the S and sings "On The Radio" and "Last Dance" to entertain us all), he had solved the whole thing!

It was like watching Rain Man.

My Life, My Time

Yesterday, our Marketing Director told me that my new company wanted to announce my hiring in "LTN", and asked for my job and education history. Two thoughts came to my head: 1) "Wow, I've never had my job 'announced' anywhere"; and 2) "What the hell is LTN?"

So I replied back with all of the info that she requested and the following email exchange ensued after I asked,

"What's LTN?"

"Law Technology News", she replied.

I said, "Ooooooh. I thought it was Lifetime Network."

Her email back to me was, "Yes, we like to place our Project Management team into Lifetime Original Movies whenever possible."

Office Blues

So I started my new job a couple weeks ago, and I have barely had time to eat, sleep and perform other basic bodily functions! I'm actually worried I might have to give up blogging!

Seriously, I am so NOT used to coming into the office everyday, considering that I worked from home 2-3 days a week at my old job. I'm so freaking tired all the time. I told my friends, "I don't know how you guys come into an office everyday. I'm tired!" Never mind the fact that plenty of people do, in fact, just that.

Hope you guys still check in!

I'm Back

I'm back. Thanks to all who sent me encouraging emails. For my blog readers who don't know, I got laid off from my job about a month ago. At the time, I felt betrayed and at a loss for words. But now I have long since moved on, and I even found a new job already! In total, my actual time spent laid off was about really only about a week and a half. Nevertheless I now can say that I've been laid off in my career, and know what to do to bounce back.

Anyhow, this is just a short post to mention that I'm back and will slowly return to the blogosphere to write about my adventures in life and read about others'. Also, I need to commemorate the three year anniversary of my blog which passed by a couple days ago. But right now, I need to get a good night's sleep to be perky and alert for my first day at my new job tomorrow!

And no, this is not my new job:

Blogging On Hold

This will be the last post for a while. There's been a big change in my life recently, and it's not really something that makes for good writing, especially when your writing is frivilous attempts at wit and humor relying on bad jokes and lame puns.

I'll be back eventually.

Meeting The Pope Is Easier Than This

I am so excited. I got a reservation for Momofuku Ko! I have been trying for the past month to get a table here, and was getting so frustrated that I was ready to spit on anything that David Chang has ever touched.

But then I perfected my system and got through! When I got the confirmation of my table, I thought it was a joke. Also, I've read about all these people who are like, "Oh I've been there four times already. You should go!" WTF?!?!

So in preparation for my visit, I wrote a little poem:

Momofuku Ko, why can't I get in?
Is it me or maybe my skin?
Just kidding Ko, I know you aren’t racist,
But even if you are, I’d still want to taste it.
Please let me in Momo Ko, what do I have to do?
I wake up every morning, reservations never come through!
Should I bring a peach?
Or take you to the beach?
I’m about to lose it Ko, pretty soon I’m gonna snap!
I’ll try again tomorrow, but right now I need a nap.

Weekend Of Ups And Downs

I was all set to have an exciting holiday weekend and come back here weaving golden tales of adventure, championship moments and debauchery. But all I have to show for my weekend is some exhausted legs that I'm icing right now because they're that sore. I guess I had high expectations, since it was Memorial Day Weekend which on the scale of "Awesome Sexy Holidays"ranks above Secretary's Day, but below Christmas.

Boring isn't always bad though. For instance, that O.J. Simpson car chase sure was exciting. But then he got framed for murdering his wife and her lover, so that's not the good kind of exciting. Similar to that, my weekend wasn't the bad kind of boring. In fact, when I compare it with some other people's more exciting weekends, I'm pretty sure I'd choose mine. I say "pretty sure" since boredom can be awfully, well, boring.

My Weekend (Boring)

On Friday, I got out of work a bit early and went down to SoHo to lunch on burgers and fries. Well, my friend got fries, while I got fried pickles, which aren't as good as you might think. They taste just like hot pickles. Afterwards, I stopped in the Adidas store and bought myself a tshirt to add to my tennis clothes collection (i.e., fetish). I had a tournament coming up, and my first match was the next day.

I came home on Friday night and caught up on DVR and packed my tennis bag for the next day. I opened a bottle of wine too, and a bottle and a bowl of pasta later, at around 11:30, I was ready to hit the sack, after watching half an hour of North Country.

Saturday, I met a friend in the morning to play an hour of tennis to warm myself up for the forthcoming events. Then at around 2:30PM, I schlepped out to Flushing Meadows to play in a tennis tournament. I was excited and brimming with confidence. I've been playing a lot lately and winning a lot. So I was ready to do well. Well I got on to the court and built a lead. I was up 4-0 in the first set, and then just lost it. I was embarrassed. All of a sudden, it was like I didn't know how to hit the ball. The second set was more of the same. I was up 4-2, when I lost it again. In all, I lost the match 6-4 7-5. I was too depressed to stay in Flushing and have good Asian food (Malaysian, Chinese, Korean--take your pick). So I just came home, wondering what happened.

All was not lost on Saturday though. I finally got to make my first visit to the taco truck on 96th street! OMG, I already wanna go back. Those tacos were so good. Actually I thought the tamales and sopes were even better. I somehow ordered three tacos , three sopes and three tamales though, which is enough food for four people. I should learn to speak Spanish one of these days.

I had my consolation match on Sunday. On Sunday morning, I ate some breakfast and watched some Nigella. Then, I left my apartment, and again schlepped out to Flushing "Toilets Are Welcome" Meadows. I thought I had gotten over my performance from the day before. But I pretty much shanked my consolation match and just lost it. This time I didn't even build a lead. I just had one of those days where nothing went right.

Bummed, I crossed the border and returned to Manhattan. I had time to squeeze in another tennis game with a friend in the late afternoon on Sunday. I redeemed myself, and played like the wanna-be pro that I am. Then, later on Sunday, I met up with one of my neighbors to catch Indiana Jones. We were actually supposed to see it with two other friends of mine, who are fans of my neighbor, but through some theater sold-out showtimes drama, we actually couldn't all get together. Nonetheless, it was a nice way to end the normal part of the weekend. Oh and Indiana Jones is worth seeing. Harrison Ford & Karen Allen are a little creaky around the joints, but it's good enough. And Shia LeBoeuf is growing on me.

Monday, I played tennis yet again in the morning (all in all, I played about 10 hours this past weekend). Then on my way home, I spent an obscene amount of money at Balducci's. But I cooked a yummy dinner and paused wistfully to marvel at my good fortune.

A Coworker's Weekend (Moderately Exciting)

At work today, a coworker recounted his tale. On Friday night, he went out with a group of friends. Two of the people at the outing were an engaged couple among a group of single friends. At one point late in the night, it became painfully obvious that the female of the engaged couple was hitting on my coworker. These were not innocent moves that a guy might hop is flirting like accidently touching his hand or complimenting him on a joke. No. This was the undeniable come-on of grinding your ass into someone's crotch which is probably the equivalent of asking a guy if he has porn they could watch together.

This, of course, raised many questions from me about the ethics of the situation.

Me: "I think there's something wrong with the relationship and the girl doesn't want to get married."

Coworker: "I wouldn't want to get involved with her anyway. She's psycho."

Me: "But are you going to talk to her about it--when she's sober--and ask if anything's going on?"

Coworker: "I could be a hero, I guess, and save the day."

Me: "But what if her fiance hunts you down...."

Coworker: "Oh I could take him...."

Me: "What if he has a gun?"

Coworker: "Well, then, yes. He would have the upper hand."

See what I mean? Would I trade being embarrassed on the tennis court for the possibility of being shot? No way!

A Brother Of A Friend Of A Friend's Weekend (Very Exciting)

Another friend of mine told me the story today of a friend of his. Now I'm not sure if this actually happened this past weekend (I don't think it did, but I forgot to ask), but for the purposes of this blog post, let's just say it did. Go with me here. You'll see my point eventually.

My friend's friend's brother is a Senior in college and lives off-campus with a roommate. He's also been dating a girl for almost a year and they're pretty serious.

His roommate wants to go on a road trip, but my friend's friend's brother has too much work to do. His girlfriend wants to go, and my friend's friend's brother says fine. Now, unless the roommate is gay, I don't know why any guy would allow their girlfriend to go on a road trip with some other guy. But maybe I'm too uptight.

A couple weeks later, my friend's friend's brother comes back to his apartment to find that his roommate has moved out and subsequently MOVED IN WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND! So far all my friend's friend's brother has gotten out of either of them is messages of how sorry his now ex-girlfriend is and how she hopes they can stay friends, but nothing from the former roommate. On top of it all, it seems that his roommate has never even had a girlfriend before. So the first one he gets, he steals!

Now maybe this situation isn't "exciting," per se. But it sure isn't boring. I would be having Machiavellian fits of outrage if I were in this situation. This is so daytime talk show material! Very exciting! But not good exciting.

So when it comes down to it, who had the best weekend? Me, losing a little respect on the tennis court but ultimately having some tasty tacos and learning about crystal skulls? My coworker who might get shot? Or my friend's friend's brother who, I can only imagine, would read this and think "Boy, you get to play tennis, hang out with your friends, catch a flick and have some good food -- yeah, you've got A LOT to complain about."

Birthday Post #05: In Case You Forgot That It Was My Birthday Last Week

I meant to write this on Tuesday, May 13, but I was so tired when I got home that I passed out on my bed. But my birthday is like a wedding: you have a year to recognize my day. And you never need an excuse to give me a present! (Also see last year's list, of which I have yet to receive. A-hem.) Contact me here for details on where presents can be sent.

THINGS I DO NOT WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY

An American Girl Doll

Is there a more creepy toy than this? Basically, these are "people dolls." Not only does every doll have a past, but you can even get have a custom doll made to look and dress like you. They up the creep factor in the stores where you see the dolls in elaborate displays where dolls are pulled by sleighs, atop horses, in carriages, jazzercizing in purple leotards, snowboarding down white cotton mountains, always STARING at you with those creepy eyes. They further make the store an experience by having a doll hospital, doll clothes that are as expensive as people clothes and a doll beauty salon where you can actually pay someone $15 to brush and style the hair of something that is not, and will never be alive.

One major category of their dolls is their historical dolls. These dolls come from a time in history--from a good time gal in the swingin' '60's, all the way back to a Native American chick in the 17th century. Each one has a full biography and books written detailing their "story".

One of the crazier backgrounds is that of Addy, who is African American in the year 1862 and yes, a slave. And they don't shy away from the details in her rough life. Here is a piece of her story:

"Addy Walker’s story begins as she and her mother are escaping slavery to find Addy’s father and brother, who’ve been sold away. But their escape means leaving Addy’s baby sister behind—her cries could cost them their lives."

Whoa, this doll (yes, remember, this is a doll) has ice in her veins! Listen kids, let Addy's story be a lesson to you: if you're gonna keep up with that crying you might be left behind in bondage.

This Book

Read the title. 'Nuff said.





A New Blackberry (Or iPhone Or Any Other Handheld Device That Is Supposed To Make Me More Reachable)

I'm rough on my personal electronics. I've lost my cell phone too many times for me to remember, dropped my blackberry in a puddle and then stepped on it as I was trying to pick it up, broke the antenna off my phone and then couldn't find it because it rolled down the floor of a dark movie theater, left my ipod on a pile of clothes in the Gap. But somehow I've been able to keep my current Blackberry Pearl, not only in pristine condition, but also safely by my side. Boy, do I hate that thing though.
A Trip To Vegas

I know this is a crazy thing to say. Who would pass up a trip to Vegas? But I've never been gambling, and I'm scared what I might be like if I really got going in a casino.







THINGS I WOULD LIKE FOR MY BIRTHDAY

Playmobil Airport Security Toys

I guess the tagline for this play set is: “Targeting terrorists is fun.”

This thing is so crazy and borderline sadistic. Why does the set come with an extra gun? So you can plant the gun in the suitcase, run it through the x-ray machine, then have the British police officer with the mop hair-do beat the suspect into submission with his tennis racquet? Wish I had this when I was a kid.

American Idol Tickets

When I was in LA recently, my dream was to be in the studio audience for American Idol. I emailed the ticket people, and was informed that only "standing room" was available. I emailed right back and asked, "What does standing room mean?" They replied, "Standing room can include areas in the back or in the front." Front? Oh, the mosh pit?!? Hell, I'll go in the mosh pit!

But actually last week, I got an email saying that I could have two seats to the FINALE. I just about DIED with excitement. The sucky thing was that I got the notification last Thursday, which was not nearly enough time for me to arrange to take off work and make travel arrangements. But, oh my god, if I had been there, I would have been screaming my head off.

A Trip To Dublin

Lately, I've been rethinking my affection for the British, because I think it has turned Irish. Maybe it started with this little poll. Then I saw Colin Farrell in In Bruges and swooned over him (again). And finally, I still think about this guy who I went on a few dates with last year, who just happened to be, oh yeah, Irish. Yeah, I have a thing for the Irish now.

I better learn how to make lots of potato dishes.

A Prosthetic Hand

I just think I could have a lot of fun with this. Among the jokes that would never stop being funny:

Helping friend move.

Friend: “Can someone give me a hand with this?”

Me: (Offer them prosthetic hand.)

At a concert.

Announcer: “Give him a hand, ladies and gentlemen.”

Me: (Throw prosthetic hand on stage.)

When friend comes to me for advice.

Friend: “I just don’t know. I mean, I love my job now. But this could be such a great opportunity.”

Me: “Well you know what they say . . .” (Produce prosthetic hand with a bird in it.)

Ba-dum-bum. Psh.

TCho The Running Man

Tonight I ran the American Heart Association Start! Wall Street Run. (What's with the multitudinous use of exclamations?) It was only 5K, but with the gloomy, cold, rainy weather today, I wasn't really in the mood to run.

This was my first ever race. The crowds daunted me at first, and when the gun went off, I BOLTED because I had to get away from those crowds (I can't STAND crowds.) As I ran the course, I got a tour of my old stomping grounds from the days when I used to work at good old 125 Broad Street. I also saw lots of tourists and some cute suit guys watching us run. Towards the finish line two groups of pre-teen kids held their hands up. I'm sort of oblivious to everything (even in normal daily life), and I totally did not notice the first group of kids, until one of the kid's hands brushed my elbow. But I gave some high-fives to the second group. I somehow also completely did not notice a water station in the middle of the race that someone told me about later.

My final time was 23:19 at a pace of 7:46 min/mile, and my overall place was 1,108 out of 4,301 runners, which isn't bad I guess (to see my age group and gender standings, enter my bib number from the picture above here.) I think for the next race I do, I'll do a little better preparation, like make sure my laces are securely tied, and look out for another runner to hitch a ride from and go at his/her pace. And yes, despite all my whining today to my very patient friend, I think I'd like to do another race. But no marathon, thank you.

Still, I was pleased because I finished the race faster than I thought with some help from a call from nature. Before the race, I could feel my bladder starting to wimper and by the end of the race, it was screaming. So if I needed to summarize my race saga, I think this drawing describes my voyage nicely:

Sunday Celebrity Sighting

Tonight, I went for a run. This season, I've been running up the West Side Highway along Riverside Drive, as opposed to down the West Side Highway. Going up, you feel much closer to nature since you're running through Riverside Park. As a result, you pass by more park-like activities like soccer, playground play, and even a kind of hip watering hole at the 79th Street Boat Basin.

I started late in the day, which usually I hate, because I don't like to run in the dark. But it wasn't too dark for me to see Joan Allen, walking her little dog! I wanted to shout out to her, "Thanks for saving Jason Bourne!"

Birthday Post #04: Did You Know It Was My Birthday?

Yesterday, I woke up at the crack of dawn to go play tennis at 7AM. Normally, I am still in Neverland at that hour, but I'm borderline hard-core when it comes to tennis. As a result, last night, I passed out at about 10PM and slept till 10AM this morning (sssshhhh! Don't tell work!). Right now I feel confident, happy and not at all uncomfortable with my sexuality (the last one would probably be funnier if I were straight.) If this is what normal, relaxed people feel on a daily basis, I may have to give up blogging, and become a prescription drug addict. Short of that happening, the delusions of grandeur will be gone by tomorrow and I'll be back to my normal, albeit now-31-year old self.

Oh yeah, did I mention that today is my birthday? I wasn't sure if everyone knew that it was coming up because I forgot whether I told anyone here. Just wanted to make sure.

Last year on the day of my birthday, I actually had to work late that night of all nights. I complained to a co-worker of mine, and was like, "Oh man, I can't believe I have to work tonight on the night of my birthday." He replied, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I proposed to my girlfriend today and was going to take the day off." Um, nooooooo. Why the hell would that make me feel any better?

When I woke up this morning, I actually got a slew of birthday wishes emails, some from people who I haven't heard from in years. Uh, where were these people last year for my 30th? Oh and these weird messages on some "wall" that I have on Facebook. (I succumbed to pressure and created a Facebook profile, but I still have no idea how that site works.) And this morning, I also got many birthday IMs. It got to a point where I left my apartment this morning, expecting everyone I passed on the street to not only know it was my birthday, but also to stop me, shake my hand and offer their original rendition of the Happy Birthday song. Needless to say, I was a little depressed when I got to the office and all I got was a ho-hum "Hey." Also the pics of the awful earthquake in China and the cyclone in Myanmar really bummed me out. Not to put a serious downer all of a sudden on this special occasion, but it's really horrific. This is also depressing to read.

If that's not enough of a birthday buzz kill, according to the Farmers Almanac, today, my birthday is a great day "to go to the Dentist" and "harvest above ground vegetables." Mmmmm....pain and manual labor are always fun to experience on your birthday. Unfortunately, it's not a good time to "castrate animals", "set chicken eggs" or "make sauerkraut, can or pickle." Not that I was planning to set some chicken eggs today, but obviously I wanted to do some castrating and canning today. Way to ruin a good party, Farmer. This is why the government is taking away your land.

And to finish off this birthday exercise before getting back to normal, I'll return to the History Channel and other sources for some other less important events (less important than my birthday of course):

In 1944, filmaker George Lucas was born in Modesto, CA. I know I
mentioned this event last year, but it is worth repeating in honor of the new
Indiana Jones. Sorry, George, I think Harrison is too old. You
should have done this movie 10 years ago.

In 1796, Edward Jenner administered the first smallpox vaccine to 8-year-old James Phipps. Last year, I was on Roosevelt Island, which is one of the weirdest places in Manhattan by the way, and stopped in the island historical office. The woman there mentioned that they were trying to raise funds to restore an old smallpox hospital. I was thinking, "Uh...WHY? Tear that shit down and build a condo."

In 1864, Eleanor "Women can write opera too" Freer was born. I'm sure she wrote something famously important but everyone remembers Wagner and Verdi.

On May 14, 1881, Harper's Weekly featured a cartoon about the high price of gas. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!

In 1904, the first Olympic Games in the U.S. opened in St. Louis. Seriously, guys. St. Louis? Have you been there?

In 1853, Gail Borden patents his (yes, HIS) process for condensed milk. Thai Iced Tea drinkers can rejoice!

In 1969, Cate Blanchett was born. In addition to Padma, Nigella and Cameron D, I'd turn straight for her.

In 1845, the Utrecht-Arnhem Railway opens. Well, FINALLY! Finally I can travel across canals and tulip fields to get to Arnhem. I've been waiting for so long!

In addition to the last episode of Seinfeld, the last episode of Family Ties aired on this day in 1989. I kind of still wonder what happened to Scott Valentine.

And just last year, DiamlerChrysler said it was selling almost all of Chrysler to private equity firm Cerberus Capital Management for $7.4 billion. Now the Germans can stop being embarrassed.

Back tomorrow with some ideas for gifts and where to send them.

Birthday Post #03: Apparently I'm Not The Only One Celebrating Life

This past weekend, I had to work on a big project, and unfortunately I had to ask some data analysts from our San Francisco office to also work. I was very grateful, because our client was happy, which meant my boss was happy, which meant I was happy.

But I felt bad for asking for weekend work. These analyst had worked all week on other projects of mine and were just overworked and exhausted. So of course I told them how grateful I was and how sorry I was to ask them to work on a weekend:

Me: "Thanks so much for working this weekend. I hope I haven't ruined your weekend."

Analyst: "It's ok. You helped out a lot. Thank you for saving my life."

Ok, whoa. That's a bit dramatic. I wish everyone I knew was that easy to please.

Birthday Post #02: First Day Of Festivities

Last night, I went to get some Korean Fried Chicken with some of my fellow gay asian bloggers at everyone's favorite Korean German Beerhof (like there are so many to choose from), Baden Baden. I hadn't been there in a while, and the first thing I noticed was that gone were the vaguely Hitler-youth type uniforms and replaced with just regular dark shirts and pants.

We all enjoyed our chicken. Oh and we had traditional orders of sliced pig's feet and spicy octopus (and fries too), just like you can find at Popeye's.

It was a very nice way to start my 31st birthday week long festivities.

As I left the place though, I realized though that since I'm Korean, I probably should just call it "fried chicken."

P.S., This guy's hair cut puts Javier Bardem to shame. The funniest thing is that this Korean Dorothy Ha-male actually looks happy with it.

Birthday Post #01: Start The Violins

Now that Mother's Day is over, we can all celebrate (wait for it, while I turn on my echo sound effect) Four Days Until My Birthday-day, day, day....

In the past year since my last birthday post, when I entered my THIRTIES, I've felt a bit older and a bit wiser. Indeed, the year 2007 will go down as the year TCho chilled out. These days, as an old man, I don't think I'm quite as high strung or chewed to the bit as I used to be. I mean, sure, I still make my trademark snap and willful judgements, but being in my wisdomous thirties, that just means they're true.

Anyhow, I probably can't top last year's birthday blogging series, (and actually I've been a terrible blogger, well, for the last 8 months), but hopefully I can convince some folks to stick around to the big day. Maybe I'll scare the crap out of everyone in my birthday suit.

Fame By Cleaning Ladies

So you know how people announce their special bond with celebrities by saying something like, "Oh I shop where Sarah Jessica Parker shops"? Or "I see the same optomitrist as Julia Roberts" (which is true.) Or "Alec Baldwin goes to my dry cleaner" (which is also true.)

Well, I found out the other day that my cleaning lady cleans supermodel Ling's apartment! I'm not sure why this is so exciting to me, considering that I have yet to meet anyone who has any idea who I'm talking about (I need more gay asian fashionistas in my social circle.) Or the person who I tell this news to thinks I'm talking about Bai Ling ("you mean that crazy Thai prostitute from Lost who just got arrested for shoplifting?") But I just think to myself, "wow, my I'm eating off of dishes cleaned by the cleaning lady who washes Ling's dishes." How's that for circuituitous?

The Loaf Cake Curse

A weird thing has been happening in my latest cooking exploits. I've really gotten into making loaf cakes. For some reason, making loaf cakes is so much more satisfying to me. I think it's the nature of the pan. I like putting all the ingredients for the batter together, especially now that I understand the chemistry behind the mixture of the wet and dry ingredients. And then when I get the magical batter ready, there's something about pouring it into a loaf pan that makes me feel like a true baker. The heftiness and girth of a loaf cake just give me a much more satisfying sense of accomplishment.

So far I've made a chocolate loaf cake, a lemon cake, a sour cream pound cake, banana bread and zucchini bread. All have been delicious. But the weirdest thing has been happening. I've made each of these cakes twice, and the first time I make one of them, they turn out great and taste and look like something you'd get at a bakery. The second time, however, the cake is TERRIBLE. Something always turns out wrong, like the cake hasn't risen enough or it has a weird texture or it just tastes like crap. I've always had to throw out at least half of the second version of all of my loaf cakes.

Something strange is going on. Maybe my loaf pan is to be picky and well, kind of high maintenance. Maybe even more high maintenance than me.

Dinner At Lucques

One of my favorite past judges from Top Chef is Suzanne Goin. I loved her lesson on "tough love" when she was all "Are you saying that people cheated?"

So of course I had to visit her restaurant, and I also got to meet jozjozjoz! I had a great meal, starting with a white bean and stinging nettle brodo, followed by a nice portion of suckling swine with some black truffle butter. It's funny. I actually think this is the type of food that sounds kind of boring when you read the description, probably kind of like this post.

Someday I'll Have A Villa

One of my side trips while I was in LA was a drive up to the Getty Villa in Malibu, CA. For those of you who don't know, the Getty Villa is one of those places only some wealthier-than-thou, eccentric guy, who clearly has too much time on his hands, could think of. J. Paul Getty replicated an actual real villa from the ruins of Herculaneum, which is the next town over from Pompeii. the craziest thing is that Getty never actually visited his faux-Roman house before he died!

I had a nice day there. Not only are the buildings modeled after a real Roman villa, but so are the grounds. The Getty Center employs all sorts of botanists, gardeners, climatologists and other researchers who have researched the soil and weather patterns in Italy to figure out what plants could grow in the climate and soils of sunny Malibu.

The whole place is pretty amazing and I spent a lot more time there than I had intended. The weather was great, and I asked one of the nice gardener guys to take my picture:

I know I'm wearing shorts and a short-sleeve shirt in this picture, but I was actually freezing my ass off. The Pacific Ocean breeze was freaking cold that day. I almost got a "Getty Villa" sweatshirt, but I'm not a Japanese tourist.

Gangsters in OC and Some Pate

On my second day in the OC, I drove to Little Saigon, which is about 15 minutes away from Disneyland. I was craving good Vietnamese food and wanted to explore.

"Little" is a misnomer for this place.  This place is freaking huge!  I felt like I had actually traveled TO Vietnam.  Every sign all over the place is in Vietnamese there's nary a white person in sight.  I expected the normal "Saigon Grill"-type restaurants and your average crazy Asian grocery store, with shoppers in their own world and don't realize the existence of other foods outside of their dimension.  I saw all those and also Vietnamese fabric stores, travel agents, banks, vacuum repair shops, candy stores, upholsters...you name it, I saw it.  I also heard later on that I was driving through prime Asian gangland territory and that there are regular fights between the Cambodians and Vietnamese.  "Fearless" should be my middle name.

In addition to eating some tasty Vietnamese Pho and Banh sandwiches, I also was on a quest to find some Vietnamese pate.  For those of you have never experienced the ethereal delight known as a Banh-Mi sandwich, what's keeping you?!?  It's the most delicious hoagie sandwich you've ever had with either pork or chicken or beef as the main ingredient or a crispy baguette, and dressed with cucumber, pickled daikon or carrots, cilantro, some hot sauce and Asian mayonnaise and finally pate.  If they changed every sandwich shop in NYC into a Vietnamese gangsta deli, I couldn't be happier.

It was the pate that I was on a quest for.  I've been wanting to make my own Banh-Mi forever, but couldn't find the special Vietnamese pate.  When I got to Little Saigon that day, I had my list of five or six Vietnamese grocery stores to find this magical substance.  One by one, I crossed the stores off my list without luck.  Finding this stuff is like trying to find oil in Texas.  You know it should be there, but where the hell is it?

At the last store, I finally asked some random woman.  I asked, "Excuse me.  Do you know the pate that's used in Vietnamese Banh?  Do you know where I can buy some?"  I thought she was going to point to me some hidden store in a dark alley.  Maybe this was black market stuff (sold by those Asian gangs).  

The woman was very nice and told me, "Oh sandwich pate?  We just use the American one.  Even in Vietnam, they just use the American one."

So much for my efforts at being authentic.

American Idol: I Need To Fix My Make-up Now

Scene: I was sitting on my couch, and had just finished watching the American Idol performances and then the Results show when the following IM conversation ensued:

Friend: "How are you?"
Me: "Sad. :-("
Friend: "What's wrong?"
Me: "American Idol is tearing me up. Haha."

Ok, so this week American Idol, the emotions on Idol bordered on maudlin, but I'm a softie and am not ashamed to say that American Idol really tugged at my heart strings this week like a musical version of Terms of Endearment.

David Cook got me started with his rock treatment of "Always Be My Baby" (the guest mentor this week was Mariah Carey.) I was transfixed. His performance definitely goes on to my list of favorite Idol performances ever. It was earthy, original and a shining moment for David Cook. But what got me was when the camera panned to his brother, Adam, who is battling brain cancer. His brother had tears in his eyes. I heard later that during the commercial break, David Cook went down into the audience to give his brother a big hug, and everyone, including the judges stood up and was cheering. Wish I could have seen that.

The next night Elliott Yamin sang during the first half of the Results show, looking ten times better than he ever has before. He is living proof that having a good dentist will do wonders for your looks. Anyway, he sang "Free" from his new album. Afterwards, he dedicated his performance to his mom, who had passed away, just a few days before. He pointed out that this was his first performance ever that his mom wasn't at. It was all the more touching since Elliott looked so great.

Then Mariah Carey came out and sang "Bye Bye" from her new album. Mariah wrote this song about her deceased father, and the song is all about missing your lost loved ones. My path towards a train wreck started by Elliott Yamin continued. Despite her idiotic hand gestures, her inability to quite hit the glass-breaking high notes and her spandex dress that pushed up her breasts to her neck, I ate the maudlinness of the night all up.

FINALLY, Kristy Lee Cook mentioned that she can't get her beloved horse back. She had sold her favorite horse to afford her trip to the auditions. Last night, she mentioned that the buyer won't sell him back. All her fans should petition to get her horse back.

I'm pathetic.

(Sidebar: sorry for the lack of American Idol posts this year. I've been a little late in watching the episodes this year. I'm finally catching up now.)

My Top Chef Night

I've had a Bravo day before, and tonight I had a Top Chef night. And I even met a fellow blogger tonight!

So here's my grainy picture of the Top Chef posse from the signing and Q&A session I attended tonight at everyone's favorite neighborhood megabookstore. I also had my second sighting of cutie Raggedy Ann-dy Cohen, who was standing in the back, looking all dapper. Apparently Sam, from Season 3 was also standing in the back, but I completely missed him.

They are so cute.

I wish I had had time to ask a question, but by the time I thought of one, the Barnes & Noble lady was all, "Ok, time for two more questions!", and chose two people on the other side of the room

Then again, I guess I might have taken focus off from the guests of honor.

First Class Service At The Orange County Airport Rental Counter

I left Hawaii to head over to John Wayne Airport (I just love saying the name of that airport). On the way there, the flight attendants needed a doctor to help a woman who was apparently hyperventilating. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but in the middle of the in-flight movie, which was Enchanted by the way, one of the flight attendants asked the entire cabin over the plane PA system, "If any passenger is a doctor, could you please ring your call button?" Luckily there was one, and she attended to the passenger. The passenger was about seven rows ahead of me, so I didn't see much. So if you're expecting a dramatic ending, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you.

We landed at John Wayne Airport (there I go again), and I got my bags and marched off to the rental car desk. I show the rental car guy my credit card and my license, and he said to me "Hi Terence, I'm Dave." All of a sudden we're friends, and he's telling me how nice my picture is. Then he whipped out a GPS unit and started telling me that I HAD to have it, and I'm thinking where the hell did he get that from?

I went along with him and explain that I already have a GPS unit. He replied, "Oh really? What kind? That's smart you have one. Not too many travelers are as smart as you." He then saw my gigundo tennis bag, and said, "You play tennis? I wish I could play. You look like you're pretty good. Do you have uneven arms? Tennis players develop uneven arms."

I was starting to get antsy, and plus I was pretty tired from my flight (I still can't get over how far Hawaii is from the mainland. It looks so close on the map!) But I tend to indulge people who are trying to be nice, especially to those who are providing a service to me because I feel indebted to them. I often tip delivery men, for example, fairly generously because they always look like they're about to die from sprinting from the restaurant to my apartment building. So when a situation like this starts to seem like eternity, I have a hard time saying, "If you don't mind, I need to get going..."

He gave me a Chevrolet Cobalt, my second one after Kauai. This time it was red (there's a theme here). Then he looked at me, suggesting that a serious discussion was about to ensue. All he had to tell me was to warn me about driving around in Orange County. I kind of thought that he wanted to have a "let's drive while we talk" discussion, but luckily it didn't come to that. If he hadn't been behind the Budget rental car counter, I would have started to suspect that he didn't even work for budget.

Finally the guy let me go. I gathered my bags and headed out to the garage. On my way out, I managed to knock my big ass tennis bag into the sliding door so that somehow it became unaligned with the door's track. I turned around and realized that the half of the door I had knocked into was now staying open. Oh well. I already had paid my dues at the rental counter.

We Interrupt Normal Blogging To Reminisce About TCho In Turkey

I am incredibly lazy when it comes to taking pictures off my camera. It's probably because I am incapable of taking a good picture. My face contorts into these weird expressions that scream, "I'm pissed"; or "I'm taking a shit"; or "I've got a thing in my eye; can you see it?"

Anyway, tonight at the ungodley hour of 2AM on Wednesday night, I decided to upload all the pictures saved on my camera. I think this picture of moi came out pretty well. It's from the Topkapi Palace in Istanbul. To read more about my adventures with the whirling dervishes of Turkey, go here and here.

And here's one from the ruins at Ephesus, which is an ancient Greco-Roman city about 6 hours east of Istanbul.

Posting pictures six months after the fact. Tsk, tsk. I'm a terrible blogger.

A Hawaii Story You'll Hate To Love

Before I invaded LA and showed LA what I was all about, I made a quick side trip to the island of Kauai. It was pretty relaxing, and I don't plan on boring you with things like, "and then we went to the beach, and boy was it hot!" But I would be remiss to not at least tell you about my ho-hum trip to Waimea Canyon, the weird date rapist guy who tried to pawn his girlfriend to me, and the couple who I ended up having dinner with at the local ramen bar.

So when I arrived in Lihue, I was ready to see what made Bill Gates book every single hotel room on the island for his wedding. By the way, before I got there, I had been pronouncing "Lihue" as 'LIE - HEW.' It's really 'LE - HOO-EE'. How embarrassing.

Let me say from the outset that Kauai is BOOORRRRIIIINNNGGG. It's really quiet and when you drive around, all you see are miles and miles of sugar cane. It's the place you want to go, if you want to go in hiding. I drove all over the island in my trusty white Chevrolet Cobalt (I got to know Chevrolet's lovely Cobalt very well.) I saw a few sites including Waimea Canyon, which I have to admit was pretty impressive, but every Canyon I will ever see for the rest of my life will always pale in comparison to THE Grand Canyon. I only wish that my hair didn't look so weird in this pic. Thank you Aloha Airlines for the long flight that got my hair all nappy. May you rest in peace.

For the rest of my stay, I chilled at my hotel. On Saturday, I nearly keeled over from exhaustion after playing four hours of tennis in the hot sun. Holy shit. I think I understood then what "dehydration" and "heat exhaustion" meant. But at least I whooped that ball machine's ass. I also did play against a real person--another guest at the hotel--and won against him too. So my near-death experience was worth the effort.

I did meet a nice couple one night while having some noodles at the local Saimin bar who were on the island, looking for wedding sites. Actually the hostess put us directly across the counter from each other. At first I was across the girl, but then I moved down one seat because it was just weird. If I wanted to, I could have lovingly looked into her eyes, which I didn't think her fiance would appreciate.

And then there was the Date Rape Guy, some random dude who sat near me in the lobby bar lounge area. Unprompted, he says to me, "Hey, we have an extra girl in our group. You should take your best shot with her. She's pretty easy."

Uh, WTF?

Next stop for T. Cho, the OC!