picture pages

i have undertaken the herculean task of organizing my family's box of photos. most families have a collection of photo albums that act as a timeline of their lives. we have a photo box. which basically means 30-odd years worth of photos dumped into a box. pretty simple.

so for christmas vacation 2009, i spent $300 on photo archival paper, $50 on 8 hot pink binders (mom's choice) and 10 hours and counting so far on coercing each picture into its glossy place with my mom's korean soap operas playing in the background.

some of you may regard this project as the punishment given to medieval thieves and other social miscreants before thumb screws were invented, but i actually enjoyed my solo walk down memory 6 lane highway.

though i now have a ravaging "alexa ray joel/christy brinkley" syndrome (you know, realizing that your mom is way hotter than you are), don't worry, my friends, i won't curse out my dad for his dominant genes and then chomp on 8 natural sleeping pills. maybe my mom's genes skips a generation and my kid will inherit her perfectly perfect nose. (picture: my mom desperately trying to sculpt my nose into place while the cartilage is still young and malleable).



i also came to realize that between the ages of zero to 12, i only had two faces that i like to call, "you are the funniest person in the world!" and "i really need to take a dump." see exhibits below (funny, followed by dump, in case there is any confusion...i understand that there might be).





the hardest part of this project is not the attention to detail required (particularly since i have none), but the decision of when it's OK to throw away pictures. some decisions are easy. i guiltlessly threw away all of the pictures that had my dad's finger in front of the lens. and all the pictures that came back from Vons with a removable sticker that said, "best quality. no charge. take photography lessons" but then came the harder choices. do i throw away the double pictures? the quadruple pictures? do we really need 4 pictures of me playing piano, especially when we have 20 others just like it? do i throw away the pictures of the unidentified animal from the San Diego zoo? a picture taken just when the tiger went back into its cave?

it's kind of like playing God. or deleting history. or stealing memories. i find myself contemplating throwing away people in my life that have broken my heart or people that i just don't like anymore. i do. because they are my memories and i choose to hit the delete button on them. i consider throwing away pictures of people who have broken my mom's heart. pictures i know will cause her pain. people she has actively tried to forget. do i? is that my decision? i keep them but put them in an envelope with a big heart with an X through it. she knew exactly what those pictures were and said i could toss them.

do i throw away the pictures of my dad's home perm (lady ogilvie, tight curlers, administered in the kitchen by my mom, the amateur esthetician) because i KNOW he'd rather forget that experience? i kept them and made them the front cover of one of the albums.

what about all the ones from college where i don't even look like myself (amazing what 30 pounds can do to you)? i burn them because, truthfully, i'm tired of filing.

just kidding. i kept those blasted pictures. just so i'll have something to tape on the fridge when i need to lose some weight.

now, if you'll excuse me, i have 2,000 more pictures to file.

i'm a crier

i'm not sure when the transition happened. it must be hormonal. there is no explanation for it. i'm a crier. and what's more..i kinda like it.

when i was kid, i wasn't a crier. maybe because my best friend erin was a big ol' crier for both of us. remember her from my previous posts? erin and i got our way because all i had to do was nudge her and say, "psst. erin. cry. ahora*." and erin would cry on cue. this frequently resulted in our moms handing over mint chocolate ice cream.

or how about: "erin. cry".

BAM. sleepover thursdays were reinstated.

sometimes it was more like: "one more time, erin. cry."

new jelly shoes to match our jelly bracelets that we got bc erin cried would magically appeared at our feet.

crying was great.

anyway, i was a stomper. a yeller. a runner. hardly ever a crier. when i was frustrated, i stamped and yelled and ran away. but around year 30, i noticed that things just made me cry.

things like:
(happy things)
* when my co worker told me that her niece may be able to play viola once again after a dog attacked her arm.
* when they "MOVE THAT BUS!" in extreme home makeover
"CHRISTINA AGUILERA: BEHIND THE MUSIC", on VH1
* a picture of suri cruise delighting in the park in US Weekly


(sad things)
* when fabio the italian got kicked off of top chef season 5
* the "hero" music video by enrique iglesias
* lost kids looking for their moms in malls
* lost moms looking for their kids (arguably sadder)


(just things)
* the cotton commercials ("the fabric of our liiiives")
* the mcdonalds commercial where the kid is dropped off at college and he's emotional but prefers to appear stoic.
* when i see a baby picture. of myself.
* dead plants i've killed with my own two hands.

all of the above have brought tears to my eyes within the last 30 days. so if you see me blinking rapidly and swallowing hard, you can be sure something happy, sad, or just plain thingy, made me cry. and it feels great!

*ahora: means NOW! in spanish. i used it liberally and with emphasis with an astonishingly impressive spanish accent for a 9 year old.

No Wonder

The past couple of days I have been sleepier than usual in the morning. I'm talking eyes glazing over, chin hitting chest sleepy. The kind of sleepy where you actually catch yourself fantasizing about cutting off your arm in exchange for a pillow top bed with crisp sheets and cool pillows.

THIS is why:


SHOOT - i can't get a clear shot - but, THEY SWITCHED MY MORNING COFFEE TO DECAF!

There You Are!

I hadn't seen his subway ad for over a year. Maybe I was riding the wrong subway cars? Maybe he left the business. Maybe it was because of fraud! Who could really believe his unequivocally confident technocolor "Beautiful Clear Skin" ads, after all? But two days ago, as I (ironically) was poking the carbuncle growing on my forehead, I looked up and there he was!!! His weird eyeless eyes staring at me. My goodness, I almost genuflected right then and there.

THANK YOU DR. ZIZMOR! I MISSED YOU!

words that people can't say

when i was a kid, i couldn't say the word "specific." i could only say "suh-pacific." ever determined, i trained myself to say "specific" by reasoning, "irene, if you can say SPAGHETTI, then you can say SUH-PACIFIC." makes sense, right?? this kind of self coaching paid off and soon enough, I was able to say "specific" with no trouble at all. (incidentally, the other word that gave me problems was the word "intrigued." I pronounced it "introoged" in my head for over 8 years before i found out how it was really pronounced. and then i actually said, "that's very introoging, mr. pilch!" in 6th grade and it was really embarassing.)

Anyway, the other day i took a an abs class at my gym. my instructor, marcus, couldn't say the word "two". he would count, "ONE STEW THREE FOUR! ONE STEW THREE FOUR!" and it was highly distracting. Especially since he started the class by saying "Class: Today, we are working on perfecting our plank position." If he can say "today", why can't he say "two?".

I guess it's a bigger problem than people realize 'cause I once knew a person who couldn't say the word "shrimp." I noticed it because he would say "prawns" instead of shrimp. When I asked him why he said "prawns", he said it was because he couldn't say "shrimp" because he sometimes had issues with the "sh" sound. obviously, I forced him to say "shrimp" 10 times over really fast. And this is what it sounded like "srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp srimp" can you believe it?

I told him about how I used have issues with the word "specific" and that we all can get over minor speech impediments with tenacity and practice and told him to say, "Shirley's Surely Shrimpy!" 5 times every day. He thought I was making fun of him and he walked away in a huff. What a same.

her ana is like, dead

irenejkim77: look at this picture of suri. i'm dying of cuteness overload. http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20273213,00.html?xid=rss-topheadlines


bff@work: what a cutie patootie! i hear katie wants to leave tom
bff@work: do u think that's tru?
irenejkim77: omg. i don't now.
irenejkim77: know.
irenejkim77: i hope not. for suri's sake
bff@work: do u think tori is ana?
irenejkim77: of COURSE she is. spelling?
irenejkim77: tori spelling? bobble head?
bff@work: i kind of think she isn't
irenejkim77: WHAT?!??!??!????!????
bff@work: shes just like, at a skinny point in her life
irenejkim77: are you blind, woman?
irenejkim77: she's def ana !!!!!
bff@work: no, i get that she's too skinny
bff@work: but is she literally starving herself or is it unintentional?
irenejkim77: uh, literally starvinv herself.
irenejkim77: (like i can't blf you can't tell )
bff@work: no i can tell she is not eating enough food
bff@work: i'm wondering about her mental state behind it. like "i can't eat, i'm not thin enough blah blah"
bff@work: or what she says "i'm running around crazy and haven't really been eating properly, i get that i'm too thin"
irenejkim77: tori has SAID that she feels pressure to be thin.
irenejkim77: post pregnancy.
irenejkim77: i think everyone is ana in h-wood who looks too thin.
bff@work: we see a lot of these hollywood types get bobble headed after baby
irenejkim77: except that their standards are all reset...
bff@work: i would prolly be ana too
irenejkim77: so they think they're not.
irenejkim77: right.
irenejkim77: i would be, too.
irenejkim77: totally paranoid about what i eat.
bff@work: bcuz it's so much pressure! and so much upside if u are thin
bff@work: and we're regular sized
irenejkim77: bc everyone is a midget. In h-wood. a midget.
bff@work: like no paparazzi
irenejkim77: right. that's what i'm sayin.g
bff@work: agreed
irenejkim77: tori may not THINK she's ana. but she is.
bff@work: aha! understood
irenejkim77: total paradigm shift.
bff@work: like our ana is her normal
bff@work: her ana is like, dead
irenejkim77: HAHA made me laugh.

This summer has been a very wet one in New York City. I think I read somewhere that June 2009 was the 4th wettest June in NYC history. Which doesn’t sound all that impressive because nobody remembers 4th place (this strikes a personal chord with me because my business school seems to be perpetually stuck in #4 purgatory. With a logo like THAT, we're NEVER gonna be #1!)



Anyway, I've started to notice a pattern. A sudden summer rainstorm is almost ALWAYS followed by distant fire engine sounds. Have you noticed this and if so, do you have a theory as to why? I realize that there are dangers related to driving in the rain. I'm familiar with the concept of Hydroplaning. Not only because I have done it before (WHHEEEE!! I'm driving down the 805! WHHEEEEE! I'm SLIDING down the 805!) but because Californians are notoriously bad drivers in rain and I have witnessed more cars spinning down the freeway than I have heart-shaped items in my apartment. But…if a car hydroplanes and ultimately ends up in a car crash (God Forbid)…doesn't that usually involve the Fuzz, not the Fire Department?

So I googled "Fire and Rain". The only thing that came up was : ""Fire and Rain" is a folk/rock song written and performed by James Taylor. Taylor publicly said that he composed "Fire and Rain" in 1968 during a stay in the Spanish island of Formentera, a place that he jokingly defined as a place (then) "full of goats and drug smugglers".

(Cool! I went to Formentera! I didn't see any goats! See blog: http://iwantpink.blogspot.com/2007/07/vacation-planning.html)

I don’t know this song "Fire and Rain". Mind you, I'm the person who thought Jim Croce was African American. Tom Jones, too, come to think of it. So I'm not exactly your "Phone A Friend" when it comes to these matters. I looked up the lyrics and nope, the song doesn't ring a bell. And it didn't shed any light on why sudden rain storms are frequently followed by the fire engine siren sound. I know it's a random post. But I was just wondering why, that's all.

Toe Jam

I was in Boston yesterday. Until recently, my list of Why I Love Boston were negated by a list of equal length of Why I Don't Always Love Boston, netting me neutral on the city. After what happened to me yesterday, why IDALB is winning by a nose.

It was 1:51 pm and I was frantically looking around for a cab to take me to Logan Airport to catch a 2:30 flight. There was none to be found. And I wasn't alone; there was a pack of us roaming around Congress Street trying to flag a cab. As the minutes sped by and my competition increased, I knew I had to take action. I exchanged my high heels for my black flats and broke out in a wind sprint down the cobblestone streets around Faneuil Hall. In less than 3 seconds, I somehow simultaneously kicked off BOTH shoes in OPPOSITE directions, rendering me barefoot and sprinting for a good 5 lopes before I put my Flintstone breaks on and screeched to a grinding halt. The ring toe* on my left foot took the brunt of the trauma but I paid no attention because I was too aware of the people pointing and laughing at the stressed out Asian girl running barefoot. I'm sure the veterans who had been warily eyeing me earlier were immediately brought back to Hiroshima, circa August 6, 1945.

Anyhoo. I picked up my shoes (they were at least 15 feet apart from each other, with me as the Epicenter of Trouble) and lo and behold! A CAB! I hopped in the cab and made it on my flight. I, unfortunately, sat behind two Finance guys who talked the entire time of why "Hamachi" was better than "Yellowtail". I was thiiiiiiiise close to tapping them on their shoulders and saying, "Listen Turdface, Hamachi and Yellowtail are THE SAME THING". But I didn't. Because I was reading SkyMall. CHECK THIS OUT!



It's a little microwave for YOUR CAR! It plugs into the CIGARETTE LIGHTER! Oh, SkyMall! You never fail me.

Anyway, the point of my story is that I think I broke my toe. It's running a fever and the nail is turning black.

*no,i would NEVER EVER wear a ring on my toe. and if you thought this even for a second, you are dead to me.

laundry day

Sunday night. It’s the night that everyone in Manhattan does laundry.

I’ve always felt fortunate that I have never seen someone in the laundry room. Which, now that I see it in writing, is kind of scary, because my laundry room is the perfect backdrop for a gruesome crime scene: flickering lights, low humming in the background, and a mystery room (a door with 4 deadbolts on it – what’s in there? Bodies, that’s what). Nevertheless, I still feel fortunate, because having to wait for a washer/dryer is really annoying.

This Sunday night was different. I went to the “LL” floor and for the first time in over a year, there was another person in the room. She was very tiny. Like a child. But she wasn’t a child because she had a red thong in her hand. And I don’t know any children who wear red thongs. Even in Manhattan. Anyway, I knew then and there that our cycles were off. Our laundry cycles, that is, because she was putting things and thongs in the dryer. And everyone knows the dryer is on a 60 minute cycle while the washer is on a 34 minute cycle. WTF? are industrial use washer/dryers made by the same people who package hot dog and buns in off-ratios, too?

I place my clothes in the washer as she finished placing hers in the dryer. There was no way this was going to work. I watched exactly 34 minutes of “Old School” on TBS and then went to go check on my clothes.

My cycle was done. Hers was still humming away as i knew it would be. What to do?

I did what any college student would do. I took her laundry out and put it in the metal basket. Then, because we live in adult land, I took it a step further and began folding her clothes.

I nervously looked at the elevator light. It was firmly on “6”. If it started to creep downwards, I knew I had approximately 3 minutes to finish folding, put MY stuff in the dryer, and sprint up the back stairs to my room and remain the anonymous Laundry Fairy. I shook out a pair of jeans. HOLY COW she’s tiny! Size 24? Who the hell wears size 24? A CHILD, that’s who. I folded them and place them in the cart. An “I Heart Obama” T shirt. Most likely educated, consensus-building, and a student, as most Liberals who wear their political proclivities in public tend to be. I continued folding. Oberlin College…aha. Maybe that’s where the pot smell always comes from. So far, she was a red thong wearing pot smoking child genius who would have voted for Obama if she were old enough, interning in Manhattan. I pulled out one Mens Boxer shorts. Boxer briefs (nice) but size T for Tiny. They must be a good match. But…only one pair of boxer briefs in this whole pile of laundry? A one night stand ending in a Commando dash back home? Who knows. Heh. This is kind of fun, folding the laundry of a red thong wearing pot smoking child genius who would have voted for Obama if she were old enough, interning in Manhattan, doing Tiny Men.

Oh SHT!! The elevator is going down! 3 minutes and counting! I started folding like a folding maniac. Matching gym socks with knee socks, wadding up her camisoles and throwing them back into the metal basket. It was too late. It was GAME OVER. Like a DVD on rewind, I started putting everything back into the dryer. Hurry hurry hurry!

The door opened just as I slammed the dryer door shut. I casually leaned on it, and smiled what I hoped was a serene smile.

Tiny Person: “WEIRD. My T shirt came out of the dryer perfectly folded.”

Me: “Huh! Hey, I love Obama, too!”

haha - this is why working with people in asia can be funny

From: xx, xx: Research
Sent: Thursday, July 02, 2009 4:52 AM
To: xx, x: Sales
Subject: RE: Feedback: REITS

Hello XXX,

Basically unemployment rate tends to be lagged with office vacancy rates and market expects vacancy rates will still continue to go up for a while so the question is when it will stop deterioration.

Sorry for not allowed to provide you any onion at the moment.

Regards

ASIAN CO WORKER

and he calls them "beetles"

Not even a week ago, I blogged about my ability to see disgusting things that others do not.

I am squiggling in my seat bc I can't decide whether I want to VOM on my keyboard or do the Chicken dance. Ok, so my team took the head of Asia XXXX (I am making this work generic…just know that he's very very senior. Let's call him Mr. Asia) to a Thai restaurant. I was sitting at the head of the table, he was to my right. My coworker, we'll call him MR. BLIND, was to my left.

Our entrees had just arrived. I got Beef with Chilies and Scallions and a side of Brown Rice. It was GOOD! And then I saw it. A 3 inch Cockroach on Mr. Asia's right wrist. It was rapidly making it's way up his arm. I looked over at Mr. Blind - because there was NO WAY he could have missed the cockroach since he was sitting DIRECTLY ACROSS from Mr. Asia, unless he was, well, blind.

Mr. Blind saw my pleading and silent eyes and pushed my water glass closer to me because(in his own words) he "thought your dish was too spicy" Useless bag of turd.

I closed my eyes and I made a decision. I would excuse myself and discreetly brush the Cockroach off onto the floor, which was now on Mr. Asia's back. No one would even know. I had to take one for the team.

When I opened my eyes, I realized the Cockroach had already made its way down his LEFT arm. Fast little ucker-fay. Without thinking, I slapped at Mr. Asia's forearm with my BARE HAND. Mr. Asia looked up at me with a "what's wrong with you, girl?" look on his face. I clamped my hand over my mouth to supress a scream and pointed to the Cockroach that had just flown over two tables and was doing a Zulu Backspin like a B-Boy on the floor.

So, I understand that there are Cockroaches in New York City. I just don't understand why I have to be the one to spot them first.

I AM

SO DISGUSTED.

everyone has a special talent. and mine is to gross myself out. i'm also very good at cracking myself up. but one talent at a time. what I am very good at doing is noticing things that people are not supposed to see. i mean, things that humans do in secret or on accident and then hopes that that no one caught them "doing that."

examples? nose picking. everyone does it. i barely blink an eye when I see someone casually brushing their nose with their digit and allow their finger to linger. but i seem to take it a step further and spot the people who not only pick their nose, they also lick their fingers afterwards. correction. they SUCK with RELISH on their fingers afterwards (you know who you are - and i always see you! STOP, PLEASE!). another example just happened two minutes ago and is the inspiration of this blog entry: i just saw a co-worker, who I swear is one lab test away from being diagnosed with the swine flu, cough out plegm halfway out his mouth, and slurp it back in.

(I'm cracking myself up right now! that’s how unbelievable it was! talent number two!)

the worst part is, he furtively looked around to see if anyone saw him. and we made eye contact (TERRIBLE!) to which i started reciting hamlet's soliloquy "To Be, Or Not To Be" very loudly so that my randomness would abate our mutual embarassment because i'm so...random. similar to the time my dad passed gas very loudly in a movie theater and so I burped even louder so that people would forget that he arted-fay (that's farted in pig latin).

Blech. I feel ill.

yo

I almost scared myself death this morning. TO DEATH.

I was taking a shower when I noticed that the bandaid I put over my blister was coming off. I gently peeled it off and placed it on the edge of my tub, telling myself not to forget that it was there.

As I bent down to inspect the blister in closer detail, I saw a cockroach surf down a rivulet of shower water towards the foot I was standing on. I screamed. Nay, I ( more like) SHRIEKED, "YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Yo?

You see, I was so frightened that I couldn't decide whether to say, "YEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" or "NOOOOOOOOOOO" so instead I said both, i.e., "YOOOOOOOOO!" which sounded like exactly the wrong thing to say at the time.

I mean, seriously, I said YO? YO was actually in the running for the last words uttered by me? (Not being melodramatic here, just very realistic...I slipped and saw grades K through 5 scroll through my brain before I grabbed onto the towel rack).

I felt silly. And then felt really silly when I realized that the cockroach was actually the bandaid that I just placed on the side of the tub, yo.

*crunch*

S turned me on to these little crostinis. Simple ingredients - durum flour, olive oil, water. delicious and a real satisfying crunch.

I was munching on some when I came up with the MOST BRILLIANT experiment. How Many Crunches Before You Get A Real Person While Waiting On The Phone For Time Warner?

I was a nerdy knocked-kneed girl in 8th grade (incidentally, that was the vertex of my intellectual parabola (the kind of parabola where a<0). i was valedictorian AND i won the spelling bee). and even tho i may have looked really cute in my uniform, i was tooootaly a nerd. por ejemplo, i didn't know why people giggled when i said, "i'm going to wear my maryjanes to school." who knew that meant marijuana? not me, that's who. anyway, that year, i won the 8th grade science project with my scientific method approved "testing plants with bleach." (the same year, i believe, erin won for her year for inventing the "pooper scooper"...a tool that scooped the poop rabbits ooped!)

i knew i was up for the task.

THE EXPERIMENT:

Overview
The purpose of this experiment is to disprove that it actually matters if English is spoken when in the grips of the Time Warner IVR (interactive voice recognition) system.
Safety
Glass of water to mitigate chocking hazards.
Chair to administer self Heimlich should subject choke.
Procedures
1) Dial 212 358 0900
2) whenever prompted to speak, CRUNCH on a crostini
Equipment
1) Crostini
2) Phone
Bias
Previous experience dealing TW.
Control
Navigating IVR with English
Outcome
IT DOES NOT MATTER IF YOU SPEAK CROSTINI OR ENGLISH. YOU STILL DON'T GET A REAL PERSON.

why does that not surprise me?

isn't it interesting (mildly) that

Vaseline and Baseline don't rhyme?

I'm just saying that it's okay to spend 2 seconds thinking about it, that's all.

...the size of your leg...

On my way to the subway on 18th and 7th last week, I saw a cuuuuuutie pie Yorkie. Actually, it was only cute because it was tiny and everything tiny has a better chance of being cute (like Vern Troyer. A life size Vern would be terrifying. Just terrifying). The Yorkie was about the size of three apples (exactly the size of Hello Kitty, btw), and it had a RED FLOWER behind its ear. iiii know! RIDICULOUS, but also so adorable that you wanted to smash it because it was so cute it was causing you intense pain in your chest.

Anyway, the Yorkie was quivering…as if it's Burberry trench coat was doing little to keep out the Spring chill. But WAIT. It wasn't the chill that was causing the Yorkie to quiver like a bowl of jello on a vibrating bed…it was TOTALLY DOING A POOP!!!! (EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW).

This has always grossed me out and always will. The thought of having to pick up warm POOP through a plastic bag makes me want to violently retch. But I was just FASCINATED by the size of the poop. It was at least 3.5 inches long. This is LONGER than the Yorkie's LEG. CAN YOU IMAGINE IF HUMANS DID THE EQUIVALENT? Um, let's not imagine.

i'm MAGIC! (use me wisely, soldier)

lostsomething99: ok so I lost something I don't want to tell you what bc it will make it more real but send good vibes and pray I find it ok?

irenejkim77: ok...i know that feelign and can empathize. (sending vibes)

lostsomething99: OH MY GOD

lostsomething99: You are magic

lostsomething99: I was just putting on my sweatshirt

lostsomething99: and heard a loud noise

lostsomething99: and I found it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lostsomething99: THis is amazing

lostsomething99: it is my diamond locket

irenejkim77: ARE YOU SERIOUS?

irenejkim77: wow! (i have magical powers...and i never knew)

lostsomething99: YOU ARE MAGIC!!!!!!!!

irenejkim77: I'm MAGIC!

lostsomething99: it was like seconds

ok friends - giving all of you guys *one* chance to use this trick. IM me if you lost something. let's see if it works again!

the WORST

I did the worst thing this morning. The absolute worst thing.

Instead of drinking this:


(Coconut Water (full of potassium and electrolytes. Good for muscle cramping and hangovers!))


I drank this:


CHICKEN BROTH!!!!!


Gggalahchachalahaachhh!

inappropriate giggle syndrome

CONFESSION: i have inappropriate giggle syndrome. i've had it for about 20 years now, and as far as i know, there is no known cure.

i remember the exact moment when i thought to myself "gee, it feels so right and so wrong to be laughing right now." my brother and i were horsing around in front of our 344 surrey drive house in bonita, ca. i was lacing up my old school roller skates and my brother was working on his bicycle. he was tossing a screwdriver up in the air and catching it with the same hand. except something went all a bit wrong. the screwdriver slipped through his fingers and drove right through his foot and into the grass underneath. as time stopped for both of us, our jaws slack at the grotesque sight of foot shish kabob, i burst into laughter. and i'm not talking about a little giggle. i'm talking - DYYYYING of laugher.

WAIT WAIT WAIT! before you pass judgment on me, let me clarify the situation...the screwdriver didn't actually pierce his skin. it somehow wiggled its way right into the crack between his big toe and his second toe. I KNOWWWW! that's why it was SO FUNNY. well, no, that is NOT why it was so funny because i was laughing even before i knew it didn't pierce his skin. it's more accurate to say, "that's why it was funnIER".

before you go thinking that i'm a insensitive troglodyte, i did roll over to my brother with one pink roller skate THROUGH GRASS (do you know how difficult this is???) with my arms outstretched. mentally, i was prepared to pull the screwdriver out of his foot and suck all of the poison out of the wound (oh wait, i think that's what you do in a rattlesnake emergency). but, look. i was ready to put my mouth on his foot. that counts for something, right?

i don't get it.

so...i'm asian, not hispanic, or latino? thanks for clearing that up.

booooop!

I'm on the phone for about 75% of my day, talking to clients and getting voicemails.

You know what is really confusing?

When this happens:

*ring ring* *ring ring*

Client: Hi, it's CLIENT
Irene: Hey Client, it's Irene from xxx. Glad I caught you live because ---
*booooooooooooooop*

Listen people - don't make it so that your voicemail sounds like you're actually answering the phone. Even the standard automated voicemail is preferable. You know, the *robotic voice* "EYE-REEN KIM BOOOOOP" voicemail.

Don't play mean tricks on me. Change your voicemail.

I saw the above sign on the subway the other day.


It said, "When that cold, fresh Budweiser pours out of a clean tap into a beer clean glass, it just might be the pinnacle of perfection."


First of all - GROSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This ad is only calling attention to the fact that 99.9% of Buds poured across bars in America is probably NOT poured out of a clean tap and into a clean beer glass! Ew.


Second of all - pinnacle of perfection? Come on, really? Bud: you're reaching.


Third of all - did they mean "…pours out of a clean tap into a CLEAN BEER glass" not a "BEER CLEAN glass"?


It didn't make sense that Bud would make a mistake with their bajillion Ad dollars, so I did some googling.

Definition of Beer Clean Glass from www.about.com: That glass may look clean, but invisible residue (like soap or grease) can cause beer's foam to dissipate quickly. A "beer-clean" glass is completely clear of residue.


Oh. It's still a confusing poster.

you go, girlfriend!

irenejkim77: so i just got a bday card for my mom.
irenejkim77: and i didn't look inside to see what it said. the front is a really beautiful peacock design.
irenejkim77: but inside, it says, "you go, girlfriend!"
irenejkim77: isn't that kinda...incongrous?

irenejkim77: i mean, can i really send this to my mom?

irenejkim77: um. hello??

can i ask you a question?

Am I a human dog whistle? Do I speak at a decible imperceptible to the human ear? When I talk, are dolphins crashing into the window of the room that I'm in?

The reason why I ask is because last night I went to a little Oscar get together. When the announcers for Best Supporting Actress came onstage, we started chattering about the alien looking, pale woman on stage. "Whoa, who is she? What's her name? When did she win? Why does she look like a tall glass of milk?"


I knew the answer, so I said, "That's Tilda Swinton. She won last year." Apparently, this is what I sounded like: " ____________" because people continued to look at each other with their hands in the air and the Dubya expression on their faces. I turned to Schuyler who hears every sniffle and sigh I make and asked, "Did I actually make noise just then?"

Anyway, when the announcers for Best Costume came onstage, I was not surprised that "The Dutchess " won. I mean, come on, it was the only period piece!

So, this is what i said:

Irene: Well, that's not very surprising...it was the only nominated period piece.

Then...


Jamie: Do you guys think it's that surprising that The Dutchess won? It IS the only period piece.

Then...


Chad: The only reason why that movie won is because it's the only period piece.


It's all so confusing. Until I wiki-ed the properties of human hearing. And what I found was very interesting. "Humans are equipped with very sensitive ears capable of detecting sound waves of extremely low intensity. The faintest sound which the typical human ear can detect has an intensity of 1*10-12 W/m2 (ok, whatever whatever). A sound with an intensity of 1*10-12 W/m2 corresponds to a sound which will displace particles of air by a mere one-billionth of a centimeter (emphasis added). The human ear can detect such a sound. WOW! (Surprisingly, I did not add this "WOW!". It was already there). The faintest sound which a human ear can detect is known as the threshold of hearing. The most intense sound which the ear can safely detect without suffering any physical damage is more than one billion times more intense than the threshold of hearing."

Then I found this chart. I guess sometimes I'm below the Threshold of Hearing. So ironic because I feel like my whole life people have been telling me to be more quiet.

yes, yes it's true

i wrote a blog detailing my recent stomach flu and my ()oop's resemblance to magic sand, the sand that repels water...but i took it down.

so, to all of you who wrote me, you weren't imagining things. it was up for a day and then i deleted it.

love,
irene

hmph

i'm so perturbed. faithful reader a. shau brought to my attention that in the trailer for "confessions of a shopaholic", the main character is seen breaking her credit card out of a block of ice.

THAT'S MY TRICK! (see may 5, 2007 blog "people who wear glasses just know")

hmph.

addendum to my last post in IM

16:32:08 REBECCA CHAMBERS : why is that a cervical traction system?
16:32:11 REBECCA CHAMBERS : i am confused
16:32:19 IRENE KIM : I KNOW
16:32:23 IRENE KIM : i need to put something in there
16:32:30 IRENE KIM : allegedly, cervical also means neck
16:32:33 IRENE KIM : who knew?
16:32:36 REBECCA CHAMBERS : omg that is even funnier!
16:32:41 REBECCA CHAMBERS : i was already peeing my pants

For you men out there, "cervical" reminds women of the part of our bodies that gets probed with an archaic torture tool called a "speculum" once a year.

a speculum is an instrument used to explore body cavities. i'm done with this blog.

worst idea ever

DANGER DANGER!

I can see this scenario ending in many different ways, none of them good. come on SKYMALL!

***

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