Ninteen months in a few minutes

Hello. I realize we haven't been on speaking terms in, say, nineteen months. I understand. I'm sorry. Here's my update. Not a whole lot has changed:

• I still haven't graduated yet. It's okay. I'll be graduating with enough hours for my unborn children to get a degree.
  
• My little doontoon house has hardwood floors. Now the slant is more exaggerated and dust collects three times faster. Yes!
• I took a couple token trips the Philippines and, more recently, Hawaii
• My vocabulary has expanded minimally.

This is the one story that inspired me to update

One Wednesday in October (or November), a guy in my insurance class did his presentation. He had to use the overhead projector. He turned it on, and after a few minutes the display went black. Everyone looked around each other until The Undertaker shows up, full-length leather coat, matching hat, long, ponytailed nappy hair, Blackberry on hip:The room fell silent; the students and professor horrified. Probably because there wouldn't have been any witnesses.
"Do you need help in here?" said The Undertaker.
"Um...Uhh, yeeah." The professor replied.
The Undertaker swooped up to the table. The whole class staring at him and each other in awe...or fear.
"Okay. All fixed" he said as he left.
Prof asked, "Did anyone want to run out the other door too when he walked in?"

I certainly wanted to, but not as much as I wanted to ask for his autograph.

Death Becomes Her.

...Not the best or catchiest title but curiously appropriate, which is much more than what I can say about the last three weeks.

Weekend 1: As you may recall (or if you scroll down to the previous post,) I declared my plans of taking a bus to MinneROCKolis, Minne-sooo-hot-ta to reunite with my love and to open a joint bank account with her. Well, I had to settle for half of my plans and 200% of unexpected plans of Death Rock.

Consider the two seven-hour bus rides as pregaming for EXTREME 13-hour flights to ensue only because I pregame for everything. Overall things went smoothly. My seatmate was a very polite, friendly professor at Notre Dame's biology department...on his way to meet his wife and kids. I was lovingly welcomed by one R-Kizzle and one Emma, who immediately and forcibly imposed a top-thelf rocktail in the form of a "water" bottle on me upon arrival. I accepted. Light-moderate rocking ensued with a few unliked people but what was more interesting was the phone-book smashing/stomping to neighbors whom neither Emma nor I knew. Later that night when it came it sleeping arrangements, Emma was so generous as to letting me sleep with Robert. I gratefully accepted and we slept. Well...not really. I think I awoke to Robert's extreme shivering, a shivering comparable to a seizure or an epilepsy attack.

The next day we went the the MOAwesome, where the people were a little less than MOAwesome when it came to looking for Tigers gear to get ready for that night's juicy series with the Twinkies. And by Twinkies I am not referring to white-washed Asians. After several failed attempts and some very defensive and unwelcoming people, my mission was accomplished and it was off to Roberto's for some serious pregaming and humping. Call it prehumping if you will.

...And off to the game! Well, not without a valiant fight from the 123 degree sun, the bloody Bridge of Death whose real name I forgot, and one Kim Schneider who puts the hot in hot bartender and charging us $Rock.50 after serving us two extreme rocktails. Honestly, I don't remember much of the game since we were in the nosebleed section, we had good company, and maybe because of the fact that I poured three ounces of vanilla-flavored liquid rock into my beer. At least the Tigers won- so I've heard. The rest of the night was kind of a blur except for playing Marco Polo with my Twins fan counterpart. Then we, we just died in each other's arms tonight. It must have been something we said. I should've walked away. I should've walked away.
The next morning was filled with headaches and a pleasant and scenic two-hour drive to Winooona. Of course we had to stop in Lake City to reexamine our lives. This is Lake City, MN, not to be confused with Lake City, MI. Behold:

Clearly it's smooth sailing for OUR future. Then it was time for good clean fun with the exception of adult-hangman on post-its and an oopsies on Robert's shoulder. And by oopsies I mean genital warts. At least it wasn't gonhorrea or Fallopian tubes on his shoulder. That would've been a hot mess! Trust me on this one.

After studying a cute, but rabid and epileptic raccoon and a nice chat with the ever-so-chiseled Jerry and Betty it was time to go boating, swimming, humping, and of course....burying each other in sand and making inappropriate body parts on each other. Again, trust me on this one. The numerous pictures are far too inappropriate to be shown. I think Robert and Emma are with me on this one that I'm doing a service to you people by not uploading these pictures. Just look at the above picture. Isn't that beautiful enough? After draining (drowning) oursevles with the water, sand, and Mexican food (including a waitress who MexiCan't serve,) Emma and I decided to play hide-and-seek with Robert, who couldn't care less. Then we died. There's nothing more to say about that Saturday.

Of course, what trip to Minnesota is complete without a little Sunday golf? Okay, it was mini golf, but we worked on our putting skills.Boy that water looked thirst-quenching. Somehow we made it back to Minneapolis and had dinner with Priya. Robert finally ate sushi for the first time and displayed his taste for exotic food. Yippee! I'd rather not talk about the last few hours of that weekend since they were a bit emotional for us. Emily broke the tension by tirando muchos pedos en nos caras. My megablock finally arrived at 12:15am Monday morning and it was time to hit the road again. :(

...To be continued two weeks later.

Hola.

My name is Mary Junk de la Rosa and I'll be taking a bus tomorrow to Poopdale, Minnesota to see my love, Emma Lee Ulrich and open a joint bank account with her.

Thank you.

Psh...Who needs ESPN?

I do! Without it I wouldn't be able to regurgitate everything I watch in order to create this post. I know I won't be able to write columns for ESPN even though I truly enjoy watching sports, appreciate listening to sports writers' opinions, I love watching trivia shows such as "Stump the Schwab." I thought I'd give my opinion on a few things around the world of sports instead of focusing on one team. Since these are MY thoughts, there won't be anything deep here.

Now if I were to focus on one team it would be my favorite Atlatna Braves, who are currently in last place in the NL East. Their win Sunday Night over Tampa Bay actually lifted them to last from dead place. Yes, Luke Wilson was right: dead place does exist. As a Braves fan I'd like to bring up that it was approximately around this time that the Braves of fourteen years ago brought in Bobby Cox when the Braves were in a similar situation. Their season turned around and they won a zillion of their remaining regular-season games and thus began the beginning of their NL East division champions dynasty. For my sake we won't talk about the post-season unless it's 1994. At this point, Bobby Cox should call me up from Double A. I have a killer golf swing.

...and they lost to the Yankees in the 12th inning tonight with A-Rod's home run. So I guess they're back in dead place.

On a brighter note I'm actually starting to watch the World Cup on my own. It seems as if gatherings to watch soccer is much more lightheartedand jolly than watching American football. World peace is temporaily in effect....or not. I guess this is the influence three South African friends can put on you. As an American I find it shameful that we, the most powerful and most influential country, are not as gung-ho about soccer- excuse me, football, as the other 99% of the world. Is it becuase American soccer is as formidable as say, American Baseball? (That was in reference to the U.S. not winning the inaugural World Baseball Classic as expected, you sports imbeciles.) Speaking of imbeciles, if Bruce Arena weren't such a dolt of a soccer coach, maybe the Americans could have advanced out of their group instead of Italy and Ghana. It could have been us whom Brazil slaughtered on Tuesday. Instead we lost badly to Ghana, overcelebrated mediocrity but tying Italy while the Italians were beating themselves upside their heads, and let the Czechs remind the U.S. where they stand in international soccer.

While we're on the topic of shameful and awful, how about the Miami Heat winning the NBA Title? Since I'm not writing for ESPN (yet,) I'm allowed to be biased. So much had been going around on who was to blame/credit for Miami's win. Could it possibly have been Miami's inner strength and realization that they were on the verge of losing the first three games? Could it have been Pat Riley's experience and leadership? Was it even Chicagoan Dywane Wade's Jordan-esque performance? Some blame the Dallas Mavericks and how they were too busy complaining about how David Stern and the rest of the NBA is constantly conspiring against the Mavs- and how Mark Cuban was able to convince the whole city of the aforementioned. Is it even possible that Dallas cannot even play defense and had a series meltdown? I prefer to go another route. I do not blame Dallas' meltdown but I blame my beloved Detroit Pistons. Yes, you heard it, I blame Detroit. Had it not been for Detroit's massive choking being the number one seeded team in the postseason, we wouldn't have this discussion and I would still be out celebrating to this day. Our Fort Knox-like defense had been broken into and their shots just would not go in. Maybe it was fatigue from the seven-game series with Cleveland beforehand. Nah. We simply choked.

Well, that is all I feel like talking about in the world of sports. I would have talked about the U.S. Open in golf which took place about ten days ago, the Duke Lacrosse team scandal, and tonight's NBA draft and how the New York Knicks wasted a completely good opportunity to improve as if they could get any worse. I mean, out of all the talented players on tap, they chose Renaldo Balkman out of South Carolina first?! I should not be angry about this. I know everything there is to know about stports, I can name every player from every team in every major sport, and I should go to Medill J-school, work for ESPN, and move to Bristol, Connecticut. There's nothing more to say.

...for now.

I'm such a horrible person.

This is written for many reasons:
1- Clearly it's been more than two months since my last update. Where the F have I been? Oh you know...here and there but sadly not in MinneROCKolis.
2- I am deferring my accounting studies for a later hour in favor of posting. Obviously I have my priorities straight: updating my life, getting a date, studying...in that order. At least I used an accounting term? Yeah, so is "simple capital structure." Try using that in everyday conversation.
3- I am the queen of inappropriateness...If that is even a fing word. Fing. Not "f'ing," "friggin," or even the more vulgar "fucking." Fing. I never thought I'd catch on to it being the sultan of swearing or the duchess of dirty mouths but "fing" has its charm. Thanks, fiance. :)
4- I'm sick of opening my blog to see a COFFIN and I bet you are too. The coffin was fun but it's losing its novelty factor.

Quick update: I've moved, It's finals week, and I still need to have a housewarming party.

So back to inappropriateness. Here are a few instances where I either acted or forced others to act, inappropriately in chronological order.

Thursday, May 18: After some Tom Foolery before picking up the two gophers (Asian and Irish, respectively) arrived we celebrated our reunion by having a brew and as Robert so aptly put, "soberly ate drunk" though we would have done so in any circumstance. We decided to burn off the massive amount of calories by giving it to the Mons with the curiously large hands. Observe:He' s so lifelike! We Asians know how to enjoy ourselves. Did I mention we only had one brew and not ten? No? Okay....well next example (there are MANY.)

Friday, May 19: Oh dear. This may make you think you're reading about a 37-hour day. Maybe because someone was asleep for 25 of them. I'll try to keep this as entertainingly concise as possible. It all started bright and early at 10 am when we waited to buy champagne. Why, you ask? Becuase they wouldn't sell the champagne to use at 9am, silly! While loading the furniture from the apartment to the HORSE trailer (just kidding- it was adorned with Harley-Davidson accessories,) we stumbled (figuratively) across an M&M costume and a large, indescribable wig. Being a pushover, I donned both.

My companions abandoned me to handle the 84598 dirty looks and the "why are you wearing that"s and "Can I have some M&Ms?" by myself. Not only did I shame my friends, but I shamed the academic institution I attend by misrepresenting myself as DePaul's official M&Ms lady to young lads and lassies touring around the school.

After working up a good sweat (either that, or we just didn't shower immediately,) we took turns in the shower. Correction: we took turns showering while drinking Bacardi with a splash of Pepsi. While it was my turn I either spontaneously thought of a question or I sensed food had arrived I peeked my head out the door to yell for Emma. To my surprise it was her dad. Good God I almost gave him a show. Remember the drinking in the shower? That may or may not have led to the constant dropping freely under the influence of gravity. Either that or I tripped poor Robert. The literal stumbling begins. Nothing figurative here: This was the first time we uh, tripped on the cracks. Yeah...that's it. It was the sidewalk.




Unfortunately there was a second time tripping on the crack. Notice how we were nowhere near any sidewalks at either time. Simply shameful and inappropriate public behavior. At least you're only young once?

Also Emma and I shared a few sentimental moments. Since this is a post about inappropriateness there has to be catch: Okay, so we swayed, linked arms, and held hands for only a short time during Jason Mraz's rockin' performance. How fing couplish.

Saturday, May 20: By the way....we like 'em thick.

If this doesn't solidify our one-way (I'm hoping for a round-trip,) ticket to hell I don't know what does. By the way we definitely had a good, excessively hearty laugh over this: It's really not that funny. I'm sure the Michelangelos who created that did not paint those people for the sake of a giggle one would make upon hearing the word "wee-wee."

After a dinner in which both Emma and I somehow behaved like civilized adults, the effort went to waste as I managed to practice my "ER" audition on _______________!!
"Code blue! We have a doctor getting down! Paging Dr. ________!"
"So...can I call you Dr. _______?"

But before then I almost slapped the bum of 6'6" Ron. Thankfully I displayed better judgment for he turned out to be Dr. ________'s friend for whom he was waiting.
Sadly my two companions left me the next day. I was left to act inappropriately on my own. Being the total jackass I am, I sadly do not disappoint.

Monday, May 29: While at a friend's house catching up with some amigos I found myself subconsciously eating ketchup and three helpings of barbecue sauce by themselves and making old man laughs. As a result I scared at least two of my friends away. Yikes!

Friday, June 1: Simply put, I said the words, "I've never been fon-did before" and "I'm going to fondue you" at a fondue restaurant. Creating a scene to put those words into context is not necessary. These words should never be put together in this order at any time. That takes the cake...or the chocolate fondue. Someone please put duct tape over my mouth...or tape my fingers together so I won't be able to type.

Also, you can add inappropriate times Emma and I whispered and giggled to each other while being designated to our corners.

Well, since I have passed the time and gave an update to my life, I'm going back to studying. I'm inappropriate, awkward, and not nice. Simply put, I'm bad folk. Thank you.

There, now you won't see the extreme coffin when you go to this page. That is, unless it's your intention.

Hell? Party of two? or too many?

Look! A rich mahogany! It's on sale too! -->

I've never been the most morbid person...unless I'm talking to EMMA. You really have to hear what she (we) had to say.

[14:47:57] eulrich16: you would have been proud of us.
[14:48:06] eulrich16: the other night me and him were talking about who would speak at our funerals and what we would wear
[14:48:22] eulrich16: I said I'd definitely have you but if you are anything like you are when you call jane and try to talk to her, you would not be able to speak
[14:48:35] delarosa139: hahahaha!! EMMA!!!
[14:48:45] delarosa139: yeah i might not be able to refer to you as "emily"
[14:48:48] eulrich16: exactly!
[14:48:51] delarosa139: they might get confused haha
[14:48:53] eulrich16: but aren't you happy that we talked about it?
[14:49:00] eulrich16: and we went into even more depth about WHERE we would be buried.
[14:49:46] eulrich16: tell my parents not to bury me on their farm
[14:49:47] delarosa139: uhh where?
[14:49:55] eulrich16: I said I didn't know... I honestly don't
[14:50:00] delarosa139: yeah i thought of that....i'm not sure where i'd want to be buried
[14:50:16] delarosa139: i don't want to be a statistic in chicago
[14:50:24] eulrich16: yeah, exactly
[14:50:39] eulrich16: so if my parents ask.,.. just cremate me
[14:50:42] eulrich16: and sprinkle my ashes on your bed
[14:50:43] eulrich16: BWAHAHA
[14:50:54] delarosa139: and the one in cadillac is really really depressing (as opposed to a happy cemetary)
[14:51:02] delarosa139: my bed?! eeeeee!!
[14:51:07] eulrich16: haha!
[14:51:08] eulrich16: YES!!
[14:51:10] delarosa139: just call me emma. just cremate me.
[14:51:12] eulrich16: you could ALWAYS sleep with me then.
[14:51:14] eulrich16: hahaha!!!
[14:51:19] eulrich16: put that in your blog!
[14:51:21] delarosa139: wow i'd be inner AND outer spoon
[14:51:25] delarosa139: that's sick!
[14:51:30] eulrich16: you could be in the middle too! like a sandwich!
[14:52:11] delarosa139: it would be like breading chicken!

First of all, that last line about comparing people to breading chicken is unnecessary and atrocious. Secondly, I'm thinking about changing from a rich mahogany to a light, moderate, but POLISHED (not to the point of tackiness) maple. And is it considered odd that Emma and I talk about this two days after my conversation with a friend and concluding that we're both going to hell? Yeah. Let's just hope this is just a phrase Conan O'Brien made famous.

Servings DO Go Both Ways

Upon looking at my previous post and the posts of a certain roommate I have rediscovered something:

I get SERVED...LIFE!

I got served Academia: After spending so much time last year writing about the Aztecs and studying so hard for a midterm I receive an 8/15 and a 10/20, DISrespectively. Our comments:

eulrich16: you got served
de la Rosa 39: ....DURSTON!
eulrich16: oof. he really did hate you!
de la Rosa 39: wow, i didn't think he'd really express it!

Durston was this horror of a professor who acted quite phallic to remain PC. Another instance of this was one time during lecture the class was required to ask questions. I sat in the center of the room and raised my hand the whole time. He did not call on me. He even made the effort to look around me to call on other people. At least it is okay because he is no longer teaching?

I got served peers: There's no real single instance about this. It's a daily thing and sadly enough I'm starting to get used to it. I generally go unheard. Most of the servings resemble this model:
me-"So what are you up..." (person turns around and/or walks away) "no? Okay that's fine too."
Emily- "You got SERVED! HAHAHA!!"

*The title said "both ways." I'll get to the other side...soon. Moving on...

I also got served SOUTH AMERICA. Okay it was "only" Brazil but isn't mentioning the whole continent much more effective? Eighty percent of the continent is Brazil anyway. Imagine- a whole country! Serving me! Okay now that my initial venting is out of the way, I'll explain. So after a night of non-serving, ie. a finance final, good dinner, good wine, and good company I thought flying to Brazil would cap off a week of studying and finalizing.

Yeah. When was the last thing I was right about anything? This was too good to be true. I packed light thinking of filling the suitcase via an extreme shopping spree in Sao Paulo, which made my train ride to O'Hare easier. Then I checked in at the ticket counter. Thinking my passport was sufficient I handed it to the agent in full confidence. That confidence was shot down when I heard the words, "You... won't be flying to Brazil today. You don't have a visa." Boy did I look AND feel like an idiot. After my slow brain comprehended those words I turned around and headed back for the trains back to the city. To put this feeling in perspective, it's much worse than the famed walk-of-shame, one of which I would not know- psh. Thinking that everyone around me knew my story I attemped to portray myself as someone who had arrived in Chicago instead of one who has been rejected out of sheer ignorance. To rub NaCl on the wound I received a text message from a friend saying, "Have a great trip!" as I was on my way back to the city. Still I remained optimistic about the situation. I thought if I could switch my flight and apply for an express visa I could still make it to Sao Paulo and stay there a week. Wrong again, as usual. The Brazilian Consulate had impossible, elusive, and minimal hours; the airline office looks like no one had set foot in there for weeks, and both offices were only "open" during the week. Yikes! Instead of spending the weekend on the beaches I spent it with my family, including my dad who forced intoxication on me with wine...as usual. They left two days later which leads to my next server:

MY FAMILY.
After my parents left my mom called me the next day and said, "Do you want to come home for a few days? I forgot to invite you home!" I don't even need to share my feelings or discuss this statement any further. Really- it's humiliating enough to know that my own flesh and blood forgot about their only child.

I know, I promised some serving on the other end. But it's not as lighthearted as the aforementioned. I think I ruined and nearly ended a few lives. Coincidentally this all came to my attention when I was home.

1. Last spring break I bumped into an old friend, Steven*, and we hung out that week a couple of times with our other friend (his best friend,) Devin*. After two times of hanging out Steven thought he had enough game to get frisky with me. In reality he did not so he blamed Devin for being a cockblock. Steven and Devin did not speak for six months because of me. Their friendship got served....ME!

2. Devin's cousin, Guy*, also took a liking to me- who knows why. When Devin broke the news to Guy that I would not consider long-distance relationships with him especially, he did not take it so well. Instead of the usual moving-on thing he got quite drunk one night and tried to, well, you know...end it by laying out on the street downtown. Since this was downtown Seattle* the only thing one will accomplish by laying on the street is an improvement of posture. Ironically it was Steven who dragged Guy off the street and back to his house. Guy got served....me....and almost a pickup! (I wasn't there but the pickup was just an assumption.)

I like to write about things in threes but I really can't think of a third instance in which I served someone. Except for the time I made an ex-novio cry and almost laughing at him in the process. That's another story, one I'd rather not discuss.

In short:

1. I am no Latin-American history connoisseur
2. People should stop thinking they're such !33ts and stop SERVING me! (I actually only wanted to throw that in even if it's not used appropriately. Thanks ROB!!)
   
3. Entering a foreign country CAN require more than a passport
4. Wine can significantly soften the blow of realizing #3 too late
5. Apparently my servings are infrequent and EXTREME

What a Karma Chameleon.





...and a horrible way to end a post that should not even be funny in the first place (not that I am implying that it IS funny.)

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent and emotionally wimpy. Don't worry, the changed names rhyme with their real names so there isn't THAT much protection. Think of it as comparable to bad deodorant or using an umbrella with lots of holes during a severe thunderstorm.

Through the years...all two of them.

Isn't it ironic how my update is actually a collection of excepts from my old blog? Since I can't think of anything original except for what I did in the past three weeks (which really isn't much at all nor is it worth mentioning,) I'll just post the old Xangas which made me laugh...out loud

...by myself.

...to myself.

Before I do here's a 30-second update on my life (unless you're a slow reader.)
-I have not gone to sleep before 5 every night for the past six weeks. No joke. One probable cause of this is because of midterms last month and I just could not overcome this "phase" of sleeping extremely late (or early.) Maybe it's the coffee and red eyes (I am not referring to the "newspaper" either.)

-Finals are coming up next week. Because of this I will defer trying to overcome my insomnia until after finals...uh, finalize.

-Currently I am on the market for a condo. This is so I won't have to deal with JANE, my horror of landlord- excuse me, landlady and reduce my chances of getting hit on by random people on the train. Nor will I have to deal with the upstairs neighbors who complain that my music is too loud and that they can hear me (and by loud I mean not at all) yet again it's ironic that I hear them yelling and screaming, pounding through the steps as if it were a grape stomping, and rolling their chairs, thus sounding like they're bowling every day.

-Since St. Patrick's Day is coming up I found it appropriate and sensible to go to Brazil for spring break. Whoo-hoo!! But, uh, wish me luck with the itty-bitty bikini. No, really. It is NOT a good sign when you have to ask which side is the front of back.

...It's okay because it's culture? Ha- yeah, we'll see how this one will turn out.

-I also got hit on by a parking attendant, a large man on Valentine's day on the train, and I received the following message:
Hey MJ,

I think your kinda funny and have good taste in music. I'm from a small town in MI too, you should have witnessed the excitement when Walmart came to town! Oh and our K mart is no longer too. What is your nationality... you kinda look Russian?

Obviously I look Russian. What a fool for even questioning. Also this is the ONLY time I will post something grammatically incorrect. Ugh. On that note, the Xangurrrs. Enjoy.

Tuesday April 26, 2005

So while I was home I ate dinner with my parents (uh-oh....one who really knows can see where this one is going) and while I was eating, this occurred:

mom: hmm, merrrijo likes vodka and tequila
dad: that's not all she likes *cue smartass laugh
mom: well, we've always known she likes dick ha ha ha! *cue victorious laugh for serrrrving me.
me: what?! Oh wow....never speak again, mom.

Whoa whoa whoa! Where in the hell did that come from? You think your parents are bad....well you're probably wrong. I’m assuming not everyone's parents constantly make drinking and sex jokes at their child's expense. But I guess my mom didn't like it when I yelled out "fuck me in the ass" when I made a bad shot golfing. At that point I slouched on my seat and concentrated on eating my rice while my parents snickered at their own joke for the next two minutes. Luckily I was the only one around.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005
So...I’m running errands around town today and three funny things happen in the two hours I was out. First, I needed to go to office max (it's almost a miracle we have one in the first place.). I pull in to the parking lot and I see nothing else besides a horse and buggy tied to one of the posts. Now, call me crazy or naive for saying this but why would Amish people need to go to Office Max? How badly do they need 2.4 GHz cordless phones, copy machines, or ink cartridges? And where could they fit everything in the buggy? Also, I’m in wal-mart, only because we don't have the luxury of having a Target in our town unlike some people, and I go back to my car. I hit the unlock button as usual but the lights to my car don't flash but I just assume I don't see it because it's so sunny out. I open the door, surprised it was even unlocked, and I see a phone resembling my mom's old phone. I look around and I realize that it's not my car. My car was a few steps down from me. it's such a rarity because there are more teeth in Cadillac than foreign cars and to see two white Mitsubishi SUVs in the same area in the same parking lot in the same wal-mart (as if there are other places to choose from) is damn near impossible. I thought my day was over until I’m driving home and I pass by train tracks. I look to my left and I see a young woman walking along the tracks carrying her baby in its little car seat thing, and it was still only 35-40 degrees out. What was she doing walking her baby along train tracks in the wrong part of town? I don't know. Then again, almost every part is the wrong part of town here. I love my town. I really do.

Friday, January 7, 2005
I almost forgot about my seatmate in the plane. he was an assistant to some guy in Kansas City, so I talked to him and learned that he was there for a week, when asked why he was there he said, "basically, to propose." at first I thought it was quite sweet until I got into details, the "how did you meet?" "How long have you known each other?" "Is this your first marriage?" none of the answers were what I expected. He met this girl in OCTOBER online, he knew after a WEEK that he'd wanted to marry her, and this was his third marriage. His first one was from Korea, the second was from Japan, and this one is from the Philippines. And he's still only 38. No Asian love for him. Okay, I just had to get that one out. g'nighty!

Apparently I found nothing humorous for six months. Anyway, moving on...

Monday, July 19, 2004
Why helloooo from the white trash capital of the world! So Friday night my girlfriends and I decide to go to the races for some odd reason. These aren't dog races or horse races like they do it in Arlington Heights...It's close though...not horse but horsepower. Yes, we went to Merritt Speedway to watch people race. So my friend, Stephanie, who coincidentally lives near Merritt, and I say something to ourselves somewhere along the lines of "Oh dear, this is definitely white trash central." Let me tell you what I saw, I was immediately unwarmly welcomed by one girl who I went to high school with (the school slut...no, really! we never liked her) getting drunk not talking to us. I had never felt soooo out of place in my life wearing my little jean jacket, earrings, flip flops, and my long wavy black hair and Asian...everything! I felt like I needed to gain about 150 pounds, cut my hair into a mullet, hold two toddlers on my lap, and blow cigarette smoke into her blonde hair. Wow. I endured this for two hours. How did I do it? I have no idea. THIS is the reason why y'all have to come to Michigan or I need to go back to Chicago. Among other things I saw: multiple trucks with full-sized Confederate flags attached, ATVs, the school slut running to the parking lot because her boyfriend was getting into a fight with about 10 4th graders

Sunday July 4, 2004
so I sat in the aisle toward the back of the plane and this couple was coming where the wife was a little bit bigger and you're gonna think this is so mean of me but I thought, "oh, I hope they don't sit here," but I guess God heard me and then I heard the couple mention the same row as the one I was sitting in so I thought, "okay, maybe she'll sit by the window." wrong again. at first it was fine because she folded her arms and didn't take up much of my space, but then they started watching "along came polly" on their DVD player and all of a sudden I find her sprawled out getting a little too close to me. I was very tempted to lean on her arm. So I’m asleep and as mentioned before I was sitting toward the back, where the only bathroom was. This is a very very narrow aisle and people don't know how to squeeze their bubblebutts across the aisles. Every time I woke up or jumped up I saw their bubblebutts (emphasis on BUBBLE) ugh....needless to say I got a little grumpy.

Tuesday June 24, 2004
There's a random story that all you people would enjoy: so I’m paying for gas in lake city (now understand, lake city is even SMALLER than Cadillac and if you breathe the wrong way you'll get some STD) and I went to pay for gas so the guy said "$38." so I gave him my card and the guy behind me said, "oh, you can pay for my truck, it costs $60 to fill that up!" I turn around and much to my surprise (and yours too, I’m sure) he had the cleanest-cut, neatest MULLET! MULLET MULLET MULLET!!! (If that line doesn't get your attention, I don't know WHAT will!) Not only was it clean cut, it was all nice and spiked up and out but not wispy on the bottom...

By the lack of comments I can tell that some of you are a bit distraught from reading this and discovering (or confirming your opinions) of my 1) fascination for mullets, 2) unending love for Seatt- I mean Cadillac, Michigan, and 3) awkward encounters. Ah, to be a Pacific Islander-Asian-American female.

Reunited and it feels so good...and by good I mean we almost killed ourselves.

So...I just got back from Minneapolis. To keep the memories alive I shall blog so I don't forget because I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!!

Apparently I didn't remember to keep my promise to myself to only do some light-moderate rocking. It turned out that Thursday nights are dollar beers at Blue Iguana. So Brittany, Sarah, and I trudged over there and I saw friends of both exes...great. Five pounds later I realized that I still had to fly to Minneapolis to rock even HARDER so I packed my bags half-drunk and completely forgot the time, location, and airline of my flight.

"Which airline are you flying?"-Friend
"American." -Me half-asleep. Rememeber. I didn't sleep that night!

American Airlines did not agree with my answer. After realizing my itinerary wouldn't show up on the AA screen I realized that I was flying Northwest because I ordered my ticket from there even though I couldn't use my frequent flyer miles. So I took the tram from Terminal 5 to Terminal 2. Wrong again.

Let's recap: I screw up my plans for a nice, peaceful Thursday night, I didn't clean my apartment as planned, I don't even remember the dang airline, and so far the only thing I've done right is that I showed up four hours early for my flight. I couldn't even handle being four minutes early at birth.


United Airlines was my last resort. So I took another tram from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1. Success! Finally I arrived! I managed to remember my airline company. What's next, finding a cure for cancer? After Robert picked me up we went back to his place where he, Emily, and I engaged in an extreme nap party. Five hours later it was time to ROCK. And I mean HARD. So hard we needed a kitchen table of SIN. Exhibit A. Ignore the girl on the right. She really sucked. But to the rest of Minneapolis, watch out. Actually...change that to Robert, watch out. It's been too too long since I've spiked your drinks, fiance. After some Red Bull-less shots of jager, an unsuccessful batch of beer-ma-kade, and more junk we headed off to drink, where some no-name celebrity wanted Emily and me to go up to the VIP room. Oooh....hoity toity. Anyone will want you if you only stick cherries down each other's shirts with your teeth then take pictures of each other with that same, God-knows-where-it-has-been cherry while groping each other. Child's play.





But...we didn't do that. We used ice.







Moving on to the Lodge...it was quite a warming place where the house band played a set of U2 songs. Fiance was delighted. Fiance was not so delighted to find his shirt we after laying on the table. Why is this so funny? Who knows? Then the whole night turned into debautchery. Kim and I went on a search for the missing Swedish Gopher and ended up on stage dancing. Robert hit his head numerous times on the deer/elk antler lamp trying to get down until the bouncer literally told him to get down, Hayley was heavily scolded (not by me for a change!) to NOT make constipated-looking faces, and Emma Lee documented it all. When we decided we schooled doontoon Minneapolis enough in ROCKING we hightailed it for a mac' and cheese party at Kim and Hayley's...leading to the longest five-minute walk ever back to Emma's in negative four-degree weather. Good night.

...And good afternoon! I woke up in pain, not from a hangover, but with a sharp pain on my tailbone from being DROPPED the night before. But anyway...what trip to the twin cities is complete without restaurant hopping at Chipotle and Potbelly and a trip to the MOAwesome? For those of you who do not understand this MOAwesomeness I am referring to the Mall of America. It...was interesting. Emily received a record-tying 14th replacement of her fourth-generation iPod, we visited the COOL SHOP, I clocked a kid in the back of the head with my bag and instinctively insincerely apologized as if it were his fault, and we played dress-up at American Eagle and some Irish store. I came out as the white-trash prostitute with galoshes and the 67-year old Irish bingo player who just happened to be perfect. It was then when Robert, aka Legs, almost stepped on a child. Her mother scolded her daughter quite audibly,
"Watch out! Didn't you see those legs?" Robert quickly responded to our laugher,
"Had that been you two she would've said, 'Watch out! Didn't you see the tops of their heads?'"

Robert- 1, Asians- 4 (spiking of the drinks inclusive.)

Another three hours later....it was time to ROCK again. This time, since Emily "didn't really get drunk last night," she decided to be vigilant and filled a Nalgene bottle with JUNK. Just junk. Robert drove to St. Paul to meet up with royalty from their high school, ie. the school president, his father, and the more apporachable cross-country coach, Coz. And I made an ass of myself in front of them. I'm not sure how but I guess 'Boyto tried to bail me out with talk of our wedding date. It's still June 14!

Then it was time to put on my homewrecker mask. We rocked with Bro-ho. Since 'Boyto drove as mentioned before, Emma and I took it into our hands to get 'Boyto and Bro-ho suffiently...ready for the cold weather. Right-O! First off, we went to Legends and Nick and I played a masterful game of darts. And by masterful I mean I almost took someone's eye out while almost losing my shirt. As tool-ish as this sounds I honestly don't remember the rest of the night but apparently Robert was yet again a victim of some hard core NaCl and rejection. After giving the the touch screen game some flak he was mercilessly escorted outside of the bar. Emily won in a game of Asian frogger...or dodgecar. Emily also got denied money from McDonald's, we got kicked out, and Robert did a little rejecting himself but we won't go in to that one.

Sunday....meh meh meh. We were piles again, we watched the Super Bowl in the Library and almost fell asleep but fell in love with the Budweiser commercial with the small horse pulling a wagon with two big horses pushing behind. We also met Ludacris. Well, not really. Just some guy who took his luda-self too seriously. They smoked weed in the living room and we were confined to the Emma's room. Great! Oddly enough it was Emily and me who had the late-night munchies. I don't think documenting my trip back to Chicago is exciting enough....since I missed my flight so I, of course, turned to the bar to pass the time. Really. It's not important.

Overall it was a super-rockin' weekend, yet one thing kind of bothered me: Though Emily was the same person, there was something about her that was a bit different...oh, I know. It's because when I asked who she listens to now she says, "Oh you know.....Three 6 Mafia, a little Kanye, the Ying Yang Twins... Lil' Jon, Whaaaaat!!" What happened to Ben Folds? Is he not crunk enough for you now? Oh well, I lurve you anyway! Annnd this is the longest post ever. Minneapolis = MinneROCKolis! Good Night. :)

Achtung: Extreme update to ensue.

I HATE this town!

Oh, Detroit how I detest you,
Let me count the ways...

The quality of that "poem" is how I feel about Detroit. Why? I'll TELL you why! I looked around desperately for Chipotle and what do I find instead? Rio Wraps. Boy those Chipotle gods punished me! But that was over a month ago and Emily and I have already discussed this. On to reason number two. Upon arrival from Nagoya, Japan my mom and I cleared customs, found our luggage and we were ready to go. Little did I know my flight would be leaving in 20 minutes. Blah blah blah, eventually I was in the plane when they announced the flight to Chicago-O'Hare would be canceled. Awesome. All flights to O'Hare were canceled due to weather which lead me to scrambling ALL around Wayne County Airport looking for tickets, food, some boom-chick-a-wow-wooooow; all this while my phone wasn't working. Six hours later I was able to fly in to Midway where I was separated from my luggage for the next two days leaving my half-Amish. Okay, so it may look like Chicago was more at fault than Detroit, but it's so easy and rewarding to blame Motown City. Yet while waiting I reminiced on the good times I had in the Philippines:

The Chief's retirement party was nice...until we got to dinner. Somehow my parents and I were assigned to different tables, which generally does not bother me at all except that Filipinos tend to be quite socially awkward and someone like me would not get much respect around the table; especially when someone introduces themselves by their last name. "Hi, I'm Bautista." What do I say, "Hi...I'm...de la Rosa?" My solution? Six glasses of cheap wine while watching 14 corrupt Justices dance as if they were in a cotillion. Take that, awkwardness!


I figured I could put the two weddings together since they had one thing in common: dry receptions. Why? I'm not so sure either! Either way, I MET more relatives on my mom's side (and realized why I am so short) in wedding #1. This is me with my great-aunt...I'm about 5'2" and I am squatting to my 4'7" great-aunt. I had to be careful not to step on any family members. Not a good first impression to make. Wedding #2 was dry in every sense of the word. First of all, I looked like an extreme stick of butter with twigs and leaves stuck. This was the epitome of homeliness. I cannot even begin to explain. It was a nice wedding, but even my dad had a look of discomfort. No one spoke except for the emcee (who was paid to do it anyway,) I had a nice faceful of camera for a good while, and there was no first dance. This made me think of my own wedding plans. A groom would be nice to have. So would a cake, people who care (that might be a challenge,) and booze. Lots of booze. At least I already have bridesmaids in Emily and Mariah.



So I know this is yet another horrible post posted yet another month too late. My dearest apologies.

Sincerely,
The most Momly 20-year-old you will ever meet.

It's a Small World After All.

So...upon leaving Chicago, Seattle*, essentially this country, I thought I would be free from a few things for the next month. I guess I was wrong. Here are a few examples. Warning: This may or may not be painful to read so let's just get the most painful one out of the way.

1. MULLETS: Initially I thought this universal, schizophrenic sign of white trash was confined to embarrassing parts of the United States (say....Michigan for example) and not-so-embarrassing places but "city" people would sport this style in order to be trendy or they just don't understand the extent of the flattery the cut brings. Not only have I observed many mullets on people wandering the streets and malls of Manila, but my cousin has brought to my attention of one young lad who works outside of the mall. (Warning: EXTREME PAIN to ensue. Read at your own risk!!) Anyway...This young man had a mullet...not just any mullet but the "business" section was black but the "party" side was rockin' a bit too hard. The whole section is BLONDE.

2. TSK-ING: I used to hear Emily tsk daily by the hundreds (Oh yeah...a LOT of things bothered her.) Usually she'd tsk at either me listening to country music or just stupid people. Little did I realize Emily doesn't even compare to any one of my 2874129 family members on any given hour! Oh MAN...and the tsk-ing isn't only out of frustration. You say anything and let the EXTREME tsk-ing begin!

3. FASHION FAUX PAS: I know. I'm no Joan Rivers and this is the really shallow side of me coming out but this must be brought up. Anyone who really knows me (okay just you, Emma) knows I hate black with brown. This is the least of what Filipinos can do. Old women can wear Jordans with their mom-denim skirts, Men (and some women) can wear swastikas on the backs of their jackets and shirts, and a man can wear a shirt that says "PUSSY EATER" in large letters and he still won't receive any flak for it. Here you can't see it too well, but maybe that's for your own benefit.

So I'm sure there are so many more things I can add to this list but I've saved this draft for over a month and I needed some EXTREME updating.

Bon Voyage?

Since I never paid close attention to details and finding humor in them in past trips to and from the Philippines I figured I document this trip. Once again, my timing is impeccable.

Initially my plan was to stay up all night packing, eat breakfast with coffee so that I would not fall asleep on the drive to Grand Rapids and the flight to Detroit so that once I am flying to Japan I would just DROP (or...fall asleep for the duration of the flight-all 11 hours of it.) That...didn't work out so well. Sure I had steps one and two down, especially the latter, I LOVE bacon, egg, and cheese bagels from McDonald's; however, I stumbled upon the staying awake part. The coffee succombed to the almighty power of the food coma as I fell asleep instantly after the coffee on the way to Grand Rapids.

Once we arrived at the airport we called one of the skycaps to help us with our stuff. I was not fully prepared for Maggie McMulletstein (she must have been a Dutch Jew.) Not only did she carry our boxes like a champion but she helped me check in through the computer! Promotion on aisle 3 for 600 please! So my aunt and I arrive at the gate. I board the plane thinking everything will go smoothly as planned. Well I was Regimen RONG!! The man stopped me and said, "Where do you think you're going with that? That bag is too big." So after failing to fit the bag in the box they decide to charge me $185 for checking in the bag to Manila. For those of you who think money is no object...money IS an object! Fortunately I did NOT curse them out. I was the bigger man.

On to Detroit. Wow, I never thought I'd ever say that but since I'm 10,000 miles away I guess it's safe. I sent a text message to Emily complaining about the cheap Chipotle fix unfulfilled. We board the plane. Since I forgot my sleeping pills I figured I could just take advantage of the free booze provided as an adequate substitute. It went well as planned, except I did not make it past drink number three and fell asleep. Waking up to the smells of the airplane food jeopardized the food in my stomach for I wanted to give the heave-ho in the barf bag. Again, I resisted and remained the bigger man.

Eleven hours later we mercifully landed in Nagoya, Japan. I took much delight in the niceness of the people, the cleanliness of the bathrooms of which I am inferior, and of course the Filipinas who think they're Mariah Carey so they randomly break out in song. Fast forward another five hours and we're finally in Manila! ROCK. Manila, where faux pas are excusable, women in their seventies are still cool enough to wear Jordans, and EVERYONE has the singing voice of a bird.


Wish me luck on my quest to attend TWO weddings (no one tells me these things!) and one EXTREME retirement party and to get wiggity wasted with the president of the Philippines. I better find the little dwarf first! But don't worry! I'll be okay!

"Goooin' to the Chapel and we're..."

I did not know what to expect coming in to Winona for Thanksgiving. I only expected good food, good times, and a mini EXTREME road trip to Lewiston. I did NOT expect to come back an engaged woman!

"Wait, what?! MJ, the homewrecker, ENGAGED?!"

You betcha! But what good is a wedding story without going back to the beginning? I mean, we're going waaay back.

The magic started on the autumn of 2004 when we met on this dating service. I think it started with a mutual friend. We found each other online. He was the Chief executive of some Latin-American country and I was a conversed a little and exchanged pictures of ourselves to each other. Needless to say, we found each other quite attractive. I remember the first time we met too. It was quite special. He brought three friends from his school and we ate at this great restaurant.

Fast forward another two years and other numerous rendezvous. Fortunately my parents were out of the country and my cousins do not eat turkey otherwise we would not meet again. The dating service and I packed up the service's stuff into my car and hightailed it for Winona. I guess it's some fee, much better than the $15 charge. Money is an object! It was a three-day process but it was well worth the wait. After sleeping 26 hours, endless plates of turkey and trimmings, slipping and sliding around the streets of Winona only to come up empty-handed in the elusive search for a Winona shot glass, and bonding with the dating service it was off to Gabby's for some good times. After all the Cotter alum reacquainted themselves with each other...

HE PROPOSED!!! And as any sane woman would, I accepted!

He makes me a happy ant!

I even have bridesmaids and a maid-of-honor! I got sick of seeing my friends blog about their wedding plans and offers they put on houses. I wanted to join in on the fun. So...you are cordially invited to OUR wedding on June 14 (weather permitting. Otherwise it's iOff.)

Emily this, Emily that, Emily OUT THE WINDOW!

Actually this is about deficiencies.

This week I've learned that people can be very intelligent yet have no common sense (i.e. me) or be very intelligent and lack certain basic skills (i.e. me) such as keeping your food in your mouth and eating like a human being. We'll begin with the latter.

Victim #1: The futon.

A certain person-let's call her Emma Lee-is quite an intelligent person. She gets good grades and is VERY studious...at least, that's what people think. Yet, there are some things that she just cannot do. In Emily's case, she cannot keep food in her mouth and eat like the rest of society. A simple task such as eating crackers, chips and salsa, and other foods that common people eat can turn into a disaster for Emma Lee. (Please click on the picture to experience the EXTREME extent of Emma Lee's wrongdoing!)

What would your area look like if YOU ate pizza? I bet your area would be neat and not this scene of debauchery. Imagine this dialogue: "Emma Lee! I just vacuumed!" -Me "Oopsies!" -Emma Lee
::Groan groan groan:: This picture is not do justice as an accurate depiction of Emily's full potential. This futon has also served as the ground on which to grow such grains and legumes as mentioned before as well as the means to many itchy naps.

Victim #2: My bed.
Though it may be motherly and a bit too precocious for the likes of someone like me, it did not deserve such oppression. Exhibit B:
The stupid whore didn't even try to do that. This is what happens every time she consumes food. Good JORB, Emma Lee. Good jorb. At least I get to practice my domestic skills.

Enough about Emma Lee and her deficiencies. Let's talk about mine. You may ask yourself, "How can someone as perfect as MJ have any deficiencies whatsoever? Well, as perfect as I seem, unfortunately I have a problem. I don't know how to drink coffee properly. Every day I go to class and try to make a good impression of myself as a serious student dependent on coffee. I seem to succeed except for the coffee stains on my shirt, jacket, purse, and books and notebooks. Yesterday was no exception. Coming back from one of my exams I decided to grab a cup of coffee. Somehow the coffee leaked out from the lid, burning my fingers, arms, and staining my sleeves. By the time I got home, the coffee had spread onto the books inside my bag, Emily's waterproof vest, and my shirt. Victim #3: Me.
This soldier of a shirt got away lucky. Many of my other shirts have been permanently scarred, sort of like Robert's pants. Oopsies.

So in conclusion, our apartment is full of oopsies. But not for long...eeeee. Emily....out the door! SEE YA!

She's gone Country!

Confession: My last entry said that I lived in Seattle before coming to Chicago. I regretfully admit that it is pure fiction. I....came from....Michigan. There. I said it. I don't feel much better though.

Well, now that I got that off my chest...Holy crap! I may have petrified my roommate. One would ask, "How the heck could you do that?"

It's simple. I place her in the front seat of a car, drive three hundred miles to Michigan, blast country music, and drive through the south side of Chicago and Gary, Indiana (I was even a bit shaken up myself. No sounds were made except for the lonely CD Emily made.) First stop: Some random gas station in Indiana. Now I know that last sentence is enough to give you the heebie jeebies but I must say more. We pulled up to the station and I send Emily out to get me breakfast while I filled up the gas tank. After a slight disagreement with the pump I go inside for further investigation. The clerk, to say the least, did not quite possess good communication skills. In other words, I could not understand a thing she was saying. After a few minutes of "What did you say?" "Huh?" and "So I can get gas now?" and a bunch of southern talk, I think, I went back, pumped gas, came back, and I got my card back. I had never run so fast from the cashier to the car and we were back on our way!

The drive consisted of lovely, repetitive views of the autumn trees plus some unidentifyable ones. It was also more quiet than usual as the roommate was more petrified than anything. I had never seen her so reserved. She kept to herself, sang songs in the car, and kept her hands under her legs out of sheer fright. EEEE.

We arrived in Cadillac after many moments of "Get me out of here!" and "What is wrong with you people?!" and tsking. After realizing that we won't exactly be rocking tonight for fear people (white trash) would not be able to handle our, uh...actions, we decided that the best way to spend our last November 4 together was to have an Arts and Crafts night in the house. Remember, it's a conservative town! They don't know much better! So our mission was to find iron-on letters for our Regimen Rong shirts (with some featured attention toward a certain lead singer,) find earrings for piercing, and maybe some food.

First we looked for the earrings. It sounds seemingly simple enough. (how about that alliteration?) If you thought so too you are Regimen RONG!!! The lady did not know what she was talking about and nor did my roommate, who got quite indecisive on the number and location of the piercings. We left. Strike one.

Second, we looked next door for the iron-on letters. When asked if they had the letters she said, "Oh yeah, they're over here." She seemingly sounded fairly intelligent. WRONG. She showed us a few different types of letters, articulately saying, "Yeah we have these or them ones. And them ones are purty big." Horrified and intimidated by the degree of her intelligence we had to get the hell out of that damn fabric store. Strike two.

Sadly, our night/weekend/lives were at the mercy of the extreme Super Wal-Mart. I know, it hurts much more to write this than reading it. Walking in was not reassuring. The first thing we saw was an extremely injured baby doll on a shopping cart to exemplify the proper way to restrain your child while shopping. I guess statistics have shown that the babies that have fallen from shopping carts have no futures. As it hurts me to say, the Wal-Mart has pulled through. We got the letters and the hearts. Home Run!!

Here's the catch. On the way out we saw two mullets (one was pronounced as rhyming with "fillet" and other was a full-blown MULLET.) One was on a future figure skater. I guess little girls still look up to Tonya Harding. I guess that means we got our home run robbed. We struck out.


What the hell are we doing here? Why are we back in the Boonies?! Get us out!

She Makes me a Happy Ant! (Is that...kosher?)

Solomon did it in the Bible, Shakespeare sort of made a career doing it. The ancient Greeks practically invented it. Keats and Auden wrote their greatest pieces in this style. Hell, my roommate did it. So what makes me any different? And what made me place a great and wise king, an entire race, some of the greatest writers (as far as we know), and a mash of Asian, in the same category? Despite all the insults, put-downs, physical abuse, lactose intolerance, and her horrible habit of pOUnding through the halls, she is still my roommate and I love her. She is indeed, awesome. -->

Why? who knows. I do!

Despite what you may think of her, she is quite accepting and tolerant. When my first roommate turned out to be a huge bitch who only wanted to shop at bebe, she took my toothbrush in, then my pillow, then the sheets. Three days later I joined in. She accepted me as the roommate. Then a momentus occasion occurred just aout a month ago. I revealed my sexuality or...bi-sexuality to be specific. Needless to say she was shocked. She was shocked and accepting. She still accepted me as her roommate and occasional lover. (just kidding on the latter.) She also tolerates many bad habits I may have picked up. Of course I was tolerant of her managing to gussy up a futon with crumbs and many such legumes and grains that we could start a farm on the damned couch. Yet she accepted and tolerated me so that we continue to take pictures of ourselves and publicize it in volumes as us having no lives.

I also learned a lot of things from her. Part of relationships include learning from each other and growing as a person; not just any person but a Mega-Asian. She learned the proper pronounciations of a f ew words, and I learned a few things from her too. I learned that I am a bisexual homewrecker who has fidelity problems, amongst other things of which I cannot recall...probably because I never listen. Huh? I bet she had a nice excursion around Chicago.

She also mentioned something about our limited vocabulary. I don't know if animial noises even count as vocabulary words, but what does count are the words "rock," "certainly, excellent!" "cheese!! or schalscha?" and then there are the animal noises and nonexistent words such as the much-loved "eshaw." Oddly enough, making animal noises bring so much joy to my life. I realized this when I called her Friday night. I managed to get away from other people when I said, "Okay, I need to get this out of my system. Eshaw eshaw eshaw!" She, distraught on the other hand, laughed in shock. The sincerity of her laughter is still a question today. Her laughter! Oh man...she can pull insincere laughs of the CENTURY! That, my friend, requires talent.

Through boyfriends, thoughts of transferring, winter and summer breaks, and even trips to the STICKS, we haves still remained friends (possibly sisters-in-law if you really think about it.) We have gone from calling each other constantly to complain about how much we miss DePaul to griping about coming back to the blasted school but we'd still want to see each other. There are many other things I can say about her and while my attempt at an ode was not as credible or poetic as Keats's and Shelley's, I still managed to put my heart into this ode. All in all, I miss her, I lurve her, and I can't wait to eshaw with her tomorrow and watch "Desperate Eshaws." Eshaw, indeed. Thank you, roommate, for making me a better person. Oh You.

(Her name is Emily by the way.)

Diary of a lonely Asian woman?

Topic de jour: Solitude.

Am I meant to be alone in this world? I am an only child. Sure I played with the older kids growing up in Philadelphia, none of which I recall, but when I moved to Seattle* it all changed. Seattle was a small, rural town of about 15000, mainly inbreeds. So you can imagine it was hard for me to make friends with the other kids around. Hell, I lived on a highway. The only neighbors I had were either over the age of 60, they lived in their house for 3 months and moved away, they didnt have children, or some odd combination of any of the mentioned. Preschool was a bit difficult for me. I couldn't make friends with the other girls so my best friend was an adopted Korean named Nicholas (can you see what this leads to later on?) Grade school wasn't much better. I went through a phase in second grade and I wrote in my "journal" 'I have no friends. I am never going to have any friends in life.' Of course, the teacher and maybe two people in the class tried to reassure that I am bound to have friends. And the gullible 8 year old that I was believed them. I made one friend. Sunil. And Danielle, who grew up to enter a mental institution because she slashed her ex-boyfriend's tires. In 6th grade I had to transfer to McBain (wahhhh!). I had never heard of the damn town, let alone a wanting to go there. I arrived and everyone...was Dutch. Sure, things got better but I barely talk to three people from that school now, but whatever. Irrelevant. This doesn't help my cause.

Back to loneliness. Fast forward a couple years to college. Picture this: October 2005 (this is very Golden Girls-esque). A young beautiful woman of 20 laying on her roommate's bed while the young, beautiful woman dictates, talking about the degree of her loneliness. The young, beautiful woman recalls the past 3 weekends (and the weekdays in between) of how she got served.

Week 1: Robert. After a night of socializing and intoxicating our bodies with JUNK, Emily and I converse online while Robert is passed out after being stripped. After being told that a certain GIRL named Sharon* is probably boning a Dutch Buddhist*, I tell her that I need some bone. After that, Emily (and her bearclaw grip).....right.


Week 2: The wedding. Contrary to popular belief, this is not Emily's and my wedding, but her brother's...the older one. After another night of intoxicating our bodies with more JUNK (and jager) and after being on the floor for a good 4 minutes, I find myself participating in MJ-like activities with a certain brother (don't worry, not the one that got married...I'm not that much of a homewrecker). A few hours later, I wake up. ALONE. And all I see is his watch, the sun rising, and an underpowered smoke detector trying to act as an alarm clock. Oh, you Ulrichs. Right-o.

Week 3: My best friend Mary's 21st birthday. I put thoughts of acting on my promiscuity aside and I decide to trek down to 111th and Kedzie for Chicago's sOUthside Irish bar/foosball/darts place and I ROCKED. I rocked hard. So hard that I end up being better friends with one of the friends there. When we got home, the friend, Mary's sister (that's not her in the picture, by the way), and I sleep on the hideaway. I wake up at 9 AM. The sister? On the ground. The "friend"? MIA. I don't really know where I am. I look around and nobody's around. Alas, I got served...THRICE.

Regarding the weekdays in between the three weekends, that was only Emma Lee* and me falling asleep on my bed only to wake up alone the next morning. Ooshka.

So back to loneliness. This is where YOU, the reader (hopefully you're a good looking reader too) comes in. You must do all you can to rid me of my loneliness whether it be a hot family member or a hot friend (male or female). Hell, I'll even settle for mediocrity at this point...have pity on the young, beautiful Asian. ROCK.


*names have been changed to protect the guilty and ashamed and EVIL.