I’m a Jinius

I am at work today. Let me point out that it is Saturday and gorgeous out. My co-worker brought in a box of beard papa’s and had just enough so that everyone on our floor could have only one. After I ate mine I went into the fridge and took another one. That was my way of telling the office, “This is what you get for fucking with my weekend.”

Beard papas are so delicious and almost worth a journey to the office on a Saturday. The Beard Papa’s website describes itself as “World’s best cream puffs”. I think that is an understatement.

I don’t know what it is but lately I’ve had the most urgent sugar cravings. The other day I went to Subway and had an oatmeal cookie, a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, and a dark chocolate macadamia nut cookie. And then yesterday I had a donut, another oatmeal cookie, and downed a fruit juice. I’m like children of the corn syrup. I wonder if all these sugar cravings is a sign that maybe I’m pregnant??? That would be hilarious. My baby would be half Asian/half hot bartender and !00% alcoholic.

I hope that hot bartender never finds my blog.

In other news, Nerve.com emailed me and said they fixed my gender. Glad to know that I’m still considered a woman. I perused the site last night and tried to ignore the fact that I was at home on a Friday night, drinking a glass of red wine, and looking at personals. At least I wasn’t watching WE’s Cinematherapy.

But looking through the personals was kinda like a horror movie in itself because I instantly recognized one dude I dated via Match.com. Ugh, the online dating world is too small! This was the guy who had very deceptive photographs in his profile and turned out to be much heavier in real life. Not that I care about those things. I mean, when I make jokes about the morbidly obese of course I’m not referring to people I am dating! Anyway, this dude is using THE SAME PHOTO from his match profile. And mind you I met him on Match a year ago. I want to email him and be like “Please use a photo from this century.”

Anyway, all the red wine fueled my curiosity and wonder so I clicked on his profile. He says that people tell him he looks like Robbie Williams. It’s almost as if he is taunting me to make a fat joke.

I am so mean. I’m horrible. Who am I to judge? But at least I don’t post photos of myself from 1994.

As I am leaving the office my boss says to me, “You’re leaving so early.” I feel bad but leave anyway because I figure I shouldn’t deny him the pleasure of missing my presence.

I am so exhausted and ready to hit the sack but I have to persevere like a no-limit soldier and make it to the lower east side for my friend Steve’s going away dinner. He’s my favorite Frenchman and this is his last weekend in New York before he goes to Africa for two months. Is it just me or is Africa like the new West Coast?

So we all congregate at Le Pere Pinard and have glasses of wine at the bar. I order a rose but I can’t tell if it’s my congested nose or my weak palate but it kinda tastes like rotten apple cider. I have Steve taste it and he agrees that it is a bit odd. If a Frenchman declares it odd then it must be odd! So he talks to the bartender in French and the bartender says something about how it is a special kind of rose with a distinct flavor and that it was like produced from his mother’s vineyard.

I don’t think he liked me after that.

Whatever, the first five buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned. If you can’t conceal your bare chest then I can’t conceal my disdain for your mother’s wine. Actually, I don’t know if the wine was really from his mother’s vineyard. I think they were just trying to fuck with me because I don’t speak French. Why must I instantly believe everything I see and hear?? (more…)

Last night Fab and I had an email convo (the best kind of convo) and we were discussing the critical state of race in our culture–specifically on the MTV show The Hills– (yeah, we’re like the Cornel West of water cooler topics)–and how the show sucks because it’s another show that features an all white cast along with Sex and the City and Friends.

All three shows were set in metropolitan cities (is that redundant?) and all three shows only featured all white casts.

How you gonna be set in Manhattan and Los Angeles and not have any colored friends?

But Friends tried to diversify the cast by adding Aisha Tyler one season but in doing so they managed to hire THE MOST UNFUNNY BLACK WOMAN ON TELEVISION. I’m sorry, I’m sure she’s very smart (think she went to an ivy) and a worthwhile actress, but she’s not a good comedian.

And then that reminded me of last month’s Vanity Fair issue on women in comedy and how the issue was very white centric with the exceptions of Wanda Sykes and Maya Rudolph.

What about Mindy Kalig? Margaret Cho? Whoopi Goldberg? Mo’nique? THE JINIUS??? How did Chelsea Handler get on that list???

I also noticed that they failed to include one of my favorite SNL female actresses…

RACHEL DRATCH.

How did “I’m Harry Pottaaa” not make the list?

Please, please, bring back Rachel Dratch. If you’re going to continue to marginalize minority comedians and promote white comedians then at least bring Rachel Dratch to the forefront. She’s not just one of the funniest women but one of the funniest people on television. Hello, remember when she played the Cat Wrangler on the pilot episode of 30 Rock? (”Do you consider yourself cat competent?”)

Putting race and gender aside, lets just focus on the comedy. Rachel Dratch is funny. And I want to see her back on television.

So in an effort to be more social I decided to sign up for Nerve.com’s dating service.

Online socializing is still socializing, right?

After about twenty minutes of filling out all these tedious questions about my eye and hair color (why do they need to know this? won’t they see my photo?) and things you like and dislike (I wrote that I like steak and beer), I viewed my final profile and noticed that under gender, I was listed as a man.

So I tried editing my gender but Nerve.com requires that you contact Customer Service in order to update your gender.

But I wasn’t updating my gender like it was some facebook status–I was just fixing a mistake that the computer system made in the first place!

So I deleted the account and started over and AGAIN my profile was listed as a MAN. Do you think a man would use the screen name petite_lala????

I emailed Nerve’s customer service and the dude who emailed me back told me that in order to update my gender I had to make a payment or something and then I realized that online socializing takes more effort than socializing with real people so I retired my lofty ambitions of going back to the online dating world.

Plus, I am not paying money just so I can tell the world that I’M NOT A MAN.

In random news, I was thinking about a weird childhood memory this morning. I guess sitting at a cubicle and staring at a computer screen will create a state of hypnosis and evoke random thoughts from your memory’s periphery.

And I remembered the first time I went to sleep away camp. I was in the fifth grade. And I went balls to the wall during the camp meals because it was like the first time I got away from my mom’s korean food and could indulge in all this American gastronomic glory like beefaroni.

God I loved beefaroni.

Anyway, so my endless consumption of starch and curious meat products ultimately led to the clogging of my digestive system and I was severely constipated. I don’t think I went to the bathroom for like three days straight. I couldn’t really participate in any of the camp’s physical activities because having three days worth of beefaroni in your system really limits your athletic prowess. I literally felt like I had a stack of bricks in my stomach.

So I went to the camp infirmary.

The nurse asked me what was wrong.

Except at the time, my limited fifth grade mind did not know the medical term for being clogged up. My mind was racing. My brain was like a rolodex, just flipping through vocab words, trying to figure out what to say to this nurse. How could I explain my ailment in a mature and succinct way to this nurse–this little old white lady???

So I just resorted to using a word from my Miami patois. A word that all the young Latin kids in school used to discuss their bowels.

I said:

I can’t ca-ca.

I don’t understand how I can be sick for the third time this year. I mean, I take preventative measures. I eat garlic. I eat so much garlic that I might have to start wearing deodorant again because that shit comes out of your pores. I eat kale. KALE. I exercise. Why would I torture myself with leafy greens and exercise if I am still getting sick???

Oh, I know why.

Because people like to cough on me.

Has that ever happened to you? When someone doesn’t cover their mouth so they decide to just cough ON you like you are part of the air?

A co-worker actually did that to me yesterday and I was so offended that I said, “You need to cover your mouth!”

That really pisses me off. Just as much as people who fart in restaurants.

And having a cold is far worse than the flu. At least with the flu you can miss work and sleep all day but with a cold you’re still fine enough to show up but every little activity makes you completely miserable.

Like trying to open a bottle of gatorade for instance.

Are they trying to make gatorade child resistant or something because opening the bottle requires the strength of a gladiator.

I got so frustrated I almost threw the bottle at the wall.

Sometimes I think I have anger issues.

But I only get angry when seemingly simple things turn unnecessarily complex.

Like trying to fall asleep.

And New York is like a callous lover when you’re sick. Whipping your face with cold wind and protracting every menial task into an arduous affair.

I just want a hot toddy.

Or a hot body. Ha.

I was thinking the other day that I hate sharing my bed with guys because I can never fall asleep. It doesn’t matter how big or nice their bed is, I just can’t get comfortable. I like to extend my body so that it colonizes the entire bed. If I had it my way I would just kick the guy off and do my own thing. Like this:

But lately I find myself spooning my pillow as if it were a person.

Sometimes it is nice to wake from slumber and find yourself ensconced in warm arms. And have them rub your bare belly and whisper “you have soft skin”.

And you reply to such a sweet sentiment by saying:

Oh, it’s because I moisturize with Nivea every day.

Friday

One of the superiors at the office asked me to work this weekend and I was kinda stank about it. I told him I didn’t think I should come unless it’s urgent. Then he looked at me funny and didn’t respond.

Came home and tried to nap because I haven’t been able to sleep for the past two weeks. Imagine waking up every evening at 2 A.M. and not being able to fall back asleep. No wonder I feel like a bitchy zombie all the time.

Then headed to Nurse Bettie where my friends and I danced to Prince and Peaches.

There was a group of three Asian girls there and for some reason I just hated all of them. Do you ever just hate people for no apparent reason? I think it’s because one girl was on her blackberry the entire time and you could tell she thought she was all that but really she couldn’t dance for shit and then her friend was trying to sing along to Montell Jordan and I just wanted to punch her.

I really need sleep.

Saturday

It was beautiful out and I felt guilty that I was curled up in fetal position. I don’t know what it is about nice New York days that cajole you to come outside and make you feel like a bad person if you don’t. I grew up in Miami where every day is a nice day so nice New York days are second tier at best . But I went out anyway.

Went to my neighborhood coffee shop and sat outside. I sat next to this couple who were so obviously on their first date. You could also tell they must have met online because they were both so awkward. Most casual conversations have a rhythm to it. The interjections of “Oh, yeah, I like that restaurant too” or just going off on tangents because conversations aren’t scripted. But these people were talking in monologues. First the guy would talk about his job and then the girl would follow by talking about her job.

It’s kinda sad when you see people trying so hard to create chemistry.

I wanted to shoot them just so I could put them out of their misery.

Then I decided to walk around the lower east side because it was so nice out.
It really was the kind of the day that made you glow inside. Now I understand all the hoopla about nice New York days.

Also, this really cute blind woman asked me to help her cross the street. She had a lot of moxie and she made me laugh. She asked me to help her find Duane Reade. After I walked her over, we said bye, and I crossed the street. But I waited at the corner until I saw her go inside the store. I would’ve felt bad if she had been mugged or pushed under my watch..

That night went to Spitzer’s Corner with Meredith and Vidya and had THE WORST SERVICE EVER. I bet Tom Colicchio of Top Chef would not approve. V and I got our orders first and Meredith didn’t get her order until like an hour later.

And to make things worse, someone next to us totally dropped an F bomb. I am not exaggerating when I say that I felt like someone smothered my face with a rotten egg. And I think I knew who it came out of too. We had a communal table at Spitzers and there was a group of guys next to us and one of them totally looked like the kind of person who had no qualms dropping gas bombs in a dining establishment. And you could tell he was the culprit because he totally looked over at us when we started grimacing and making choking noises.

We also shared a table with these three women who for some reason just annoyed the shit out of me. They looked like they had never come this far downtown before. And you could tell they never went out because they kept sizing up all the men and saying, “Oh, he’s cute” when, hello, there was no one attractive there.

After Spitzers we headed to Arrow Bar for this after party where they also had an open bar. Score! The open bar was cool but the crowd was questionable. Too many girls trying to look like the cast of Gossip Girl. Women over 25 should not wear plaid head bands. We left after one drink. You know you’re old when you don’t have the energy to take advantage of open bar.

I came home and watched Clueless. I forgot how much I loved that movie. Although I always hated Brittany Murphy’s character Tai. Especially the part when she insults Cher and says, “You’re a virgin who can’t drive.” Yeah, I had someone say something like that to me when I was in college. I didn’t realize all these people were humping in highschool. Had I known I would have tried harder at losing my virginity but I was too busy watching Clueless apparently.

Sunday

I woke up with the worst freaking sore throat. I felt like that commercial when the kids go, “I have a porcupine in my thwoat.”

I watched LOST and it was the episode about Sun and Jin and of course I have a special fondness for them because they are Korean and of course I totally sobbed like a baby at the end of the episode.

I don’t know why but I just got so emotional over characters who are distant in the beginning of the relationship and then grow to accept eachother’s flaws and love eachother.

I think it makes us feel reassured that one day someone will like our crazy selves.

Went to Whole Foods and bought a twelve dollar bottle of melatonin. Twelve! That shit didn’t even work. Went to bed at one and woke up at five because my throat was killing me. So I gargled with salt water and also snorted salt water up my nose for further irrigation.

I had alot of weird dreams that night. Apparently one of the side effects of melatonin is vivid dreams. All my dreams involved guys I dated and hooked up with. It was like the ghosts of booty past were haunting me.

I did not have a peaceful sleep.

I used to love this song. It sounds like a Timbaland track. And the choreography is SICK. They don’t make music videos like this anymore.

Lets bring back the slow dance people! Dancing cheek to cheek whilst Lady in Red croons in the background. Why did they only play slow music at elementary and middle school dances when there was zero chance of getting play?

Anyhoo, I made a playlist over on Imeem of all the crap I listened to in high school. Lots of slow songs for you. And lots of angsty shit too teehee.

Listen here.

It is rainy in nyc today and of course, OF COURSE, a cab whizzed by me and drenched me in puddle water. It’s like they see you from yards away and intentionally speed up so they can ruin your coat. Bastards.

This past work week has been nothing short of hellacious. And the next two weeks will be even worse. The good thing though is that I am going to this conference at the end of the month for “young leaders” in my industry. I’m still considered young! Awesome! But, seriously, I’m really ecstatic. It’s nice to see that sometimes people recognize you for your work. So in my spare time I’ve been prepping for the conference because, unfortunately, people also recognize when your work is shitty.

And then last night I got into a little tiff with my youngest brother, who’s visiting me next month with his girlfriend, and he asked if I wanted to say hi to his girlfriend and I’ve never talked to the girl in my life and I was exhausted so I flatly said, “No. I’m tired.”

Then his voice became tremulous and he asked what was wrong. I had to get off the phone.

Even though I have two brothers, sometimes I really feel like I’m the dude in the family. And I’m constantly telling my brothers to grow a pair and stop being so sensitive. And forget it if you’re needy. That is the worst offense.

I don’t even know how we switched these gender roles. I was reared on disney cartoons and 80s sitcoms that instilled the idea that women should just coddle their male counterparts. My brothers played Mike Tyson’s Punchout and watched Steven Segal movies. And then one day my brothers just wanted to talk about their feelings. And I just became impervious to their feelings. Ugh. Your feelings? Again? We just talked about them last week!

Then that makes me wonder if that’s why I always pursue guys who don’t give me any attention.

And then I realize I am so fucked up.

After I got off the phone with my brother, I got a text from him that said, “hope you feel better, love you, and miss you.”

And that almost made me cry.

Maybe you don’t have tolerance for vulnerability in other people because you are acutely aware of your own sensitivity.

And it’s funny because I was talking about this with my girlfriend and we were commiserating about how we become less attracted to guys when they act all emo but when something happens to us we’re deeply affected.

Maybe we’re all just crab people–hard shells and a soft inside.

I’m trying to be a better sister though. I texted my brother back. I couldn’t say I love you. That would have required too much emotion on my part. But I did tell him I was excited to see him in May.

I should have texted: Love ya like a sista!

I really think that instead of sex-ed they should have taught us sex etiquette in high school. I mean, why the hell were they teaching us the function of a vas deferens? I don’t even remember what they are! And why do they conveniently glance over the condoms issue when guys our age fail to cover themselves in the heat of the moment?

Okay–maybe not all guys–but after consulting with my girlfriends I’ve derived that most single guys try to dive in your underwater paradise without a suit because they just assume you’re on the pill. Why the fuck would I be on the pill when I’m not having regular sex??? Do you think I would be this angry all the time?? No, I am not being emotional!!!!

And I noticed that guys don’t even care about stds, they’re more concerned about getting you pregnant. I guess movies like Knocked Up and Juno have created cause for concern. Look, you can always take care of a pregnancy. Herpes? He’s your friend for life. Your ride or die bitch. And not in a good way.

The pregnancy question always comes up at some point in the courtship and the guy is usually like “Well, would you have the baby? I mean–don’t all women have a biological clock?”

See, this is why sex etiquette would have come in handy. Because it is an affront to most women when guys just assume that WE ALL WANT to carry their spawn.

Let me break it down for you.  Yes, I have a biological clock that is missing a snooze button and yes, I like to post youtube videos with cute babies on a regular basis, but that does NOT mean that I’m just going to give up my job and my happy hours to have your illegitimate child!

When I have a baby it will be with someone who I am actually married to. And has a high IQ. (Hello, gotta ensure that I have a baby jinius.)

Talk about a real mood kill.

“Not tonight, honey, I’m too busy thinking about my future abortion.”