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!

***

ActiveForever is excited to carry the NECKpro Over-door Cervical Traction System! The NECKpro offers simple, easy, effective and portable cervical traction. It comes completely assembled, ready to use right out of the box and is the perfect travel companion. This easy to use cervical traction device has many great features that separates it from the rest of the cervical traction devices on the market.

Extraterrestrial Sadness

the other day i stepped into the "1/2/3" subway line and tried to make myself as small as possible next to the greasy, fingerprinted, kid slobber pole. I was trying not to touch anything except for the pole, which i was essentially only poking with my forefinger so as to minimize surface area in contact with said pole. i kept my neck stiff and at a slight bend backwards because someone's hair was getting dangerously close to my forehead (shudder). if there's one thing i can't stand, it's strange hair on or near my forehead. i can still remember the day i saw a tiny louse jump from sylvia beng's hair to debbie gold's hair in kindergarden. so if anyone knows of the dangers involved with strange hair to hair contact, it's ME.

anyway, that's not what this blog is about. it's about ET and feeling sad. let's continue.
everyone poured out at the 34th street stop and i had a little more room to move around, i.e. widen my stance to a wrestling pose (see pic) so that i didn't have to touch ANYTHING. that's when i noticed a bumbling, mumbling looking man cradling a swaddle of cloth. i almost expected him to look up and say, "hi, i'm lenny from 'of mice and men' and this is my rabbit. i am about to crush him with my love." the man was rocking the swaddle back and forth and i needed to know what was in his arms.

i casually walked over to him, careful to keep my balance (sidenote: i once fell into the lap of a man when the subway lurched to a stop bc i was poking the pole as opposed to gripping it as most people do. to clarify, i sat on him. to further clarify, i SAT ON HIM. the worst part of it was when i stood up, i realized that he had two broken legs. NOT FROM ME. they were like that already. but it was terrible. just terrible.)

"lenny" saw me coming so he snuggled the bundle closer and said, "...pecker". i recoiled in horror! he was a total perv! luring curious women to his lair and then muttering juvenile synonyms for a man's dingaling! then he said it again. "WOODpecker." oooh, a WOODpecker! amazing. i didn't even know that they existed in new york city, i said. he solemnly nodded. they do exist in new york city. and this one was dying.

when i saw the tiny, barely born bird, I felt an awful sad nostalgia wash over me. because once, when my brother and i were young, we saw a small figurine on the asphalt outside of baskin robbins (always got bubble gum ice cream, spat out bubble gum, saved them for later). look! i said. a toy! we ran over to it and i said, "it's E.T! it's E.T!!! YAHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" it wasn't until i picked it up that i realized it was actually a tiny little bird that had fallen out of its nest. not E.T. at all. and it looked exactly like the pecker (woodpecker, that is) on was on subway. i didn't finish my ice cream and i cried secret tears on the way home.

i'm not sure what to do with this blog, other than to observe that kids feel real sadness that stays in your brain for a really long time.

the zidane

yesterday, i flew back home to san diego. because of my gold status, i was graciously allowed to board with the first class members. i slipped into the red carpeted, purple velvet roped off line (not kidding) and tried to make myself invisible to the other non first class/non gold status passengers. They were looking at me with longing for they (i will never know why) also wished to board first and sit in fart air for 45 minutes as the rest of the plane filled up. *i* had my guitar with me so i wanted to make sure that i secured enough space for it early on. that's my excuse for boarding early.

i have to admit that i felt like a total poser. as everyone dropped off at rows 1-8, i continued on to row 27, seat b. i felt like a party crasher, except there was no food, no music, and no drinks. so, maybe i didn't feel like a party crasher, after all. i just felt like...a poser.

you know, it's weird waiting for the plane to fill up around you. you inadvertantly make eye contact with people you will never see again and make a small connection. people look down and smile at you, uncomfortable you, sitting in your seat as butts and bags brush your head. they are little, pursed smiles, but still, smiles that say "here we go again! WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER!" or "50% of us will order Tomato Juice even tho we never order Tomato Juice outside of an airplane!" or "I smile at you now, but if i'm next to you, it's ARMREST DOWN!"

the middle aged chinese man in row 26A was struggling with his suitcase. i found myself strangly fixated on his success. i was urging him along in my head, "come on! come ooooon-uh! you can do it! push in that corner. oh no, it's the front zipper pocket...do you have a book in there? take the book out! TAKE IT OUT!" my hands were twitching, as if it was clutching an invisible joystick that was maneuvering the suitcase into the overhead compartment.

i nervously glance at the backlog of people who are growing more and more impatient as seconds tick by. all eyes are on him. i mop my brow in nervousness and my stomach feels tight. he glances down at me (probably bc he feels my death ray stare boring holes into the side of his head) and it's all i can do to restrain myself from flashing him an encouraging, toothy grin and give him the double thumbs up sign. instead, i blink away and pretend that there is nothing more fascinating than the runway control man with his giant headphones and mini light saber.

i see a flight attendant pushing her way through. but i want him to do it on his own. because i tho say there is no shame in a little help from your friends (break into beatles song here), there's something a tiiiiiny bit emasculating about a softly padded 50 year old woman named shirley being able to deftly push your suitcase in the compartment in 2 seconds when you, a presumably stronger man in his 40's , just spent the past 5 mintutes trying to so. then he did a marvelous move that i call "the zidane". he used his HEAD to successfuly push in his suitcase and i almost wept with joy.

i uttered a "yesssssss!" under my breath and did a mini version of the hockey goal fist pump that i learned from schuyler. i was so relieved! and so was the middle aged chinese man. he looked down at me and gave me a little pursed smile.

i am so frustrated that i can no longer say...

"SUCH AS" without thinking of:




















http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww

What's in a (Korean American) Name?

There are only two demographics in the U.S. who have old lady names. Old ladies (duh) and Korean American women between the ages of 26 and 36. Names of people I personally know include: Irene Kim (me!), Eunice Jung, Grace Rhee, Eunice Park, Ethel Hong, Esther Lee, Susan Lee, Ingrid Lee, Deborah Lee.

My theory is that we were named after the actresses that ruled Hollywood around the time our parents immigrated to America. I'm talking about Grace Kelly, Ethel Merman, Susan Hayward, Deborah Kerr, Eunice, um… can't help you out with that one, Ingrid Bergman, Irene Dunn. I even know a Vivian Lee who may have been named after Vivian Leigh of Gone With the Wind fame.

I don't love my name. If I had a penny for everyone who said, "Irene? That's my great aunt's name!" I'd be rolling in the Abe Lincolns (which are far inferior to rolling in the Benjamins, but we're in a recession). When I volunteered at a retirement home in high school, old men would sing "Good Night, Irene", a song that reached the Billboard magazine Best Seller chart on June 30, 1950 and lasted 25 weeks on the chart, peaking at #1.

Then there's the issue of the Dexys Midnight Runners. You guys DO KNOW that it's actually "Come On EILEEN" not "Come On Irene", right? So stop swarming around me at weddings and at bar mitzvahs and at cheesy Murray Hill bars. Stop pointing at me and yelling "Dance! Dance! Dance!" Stop making me wiggle to a song that's not even about someone with my name. Sheesh.

I guess it could be worse. When I did some research for this blog, I came across a very popular name in the 1880's: DORCUS. And I laughed quietly to myself. DORCUS? Oh my.

creepiest things EVER

creepy things, not to be confused with scary things or gross things:

long leather black trench coats - CREEPY!!!
james blunt - ewwwwww
james blunt wearing a long leather black trench coat - omg just got the chills
chicken feet - cooked OR raw
(it's too obvious, but...james blunt eating chicken feet - cooked or raw)...
awkward winking - usually administered by a male

what else, guys?

tacos

My dear friend Heidi invited me to a gallery opening last night (College Blanchard Gallery) where I met several of her post crunchy, neo new york cool, transplated Seattle friends. I was talking to one dude, we'll call him, oh...Lincoln, about my latest research project with schuyler: tacos! When I told him that we were going to schlep up to the UWS to pay a visit to the fabled taco truck on 96th street, Lincoln told me to STOP.RIGHT.THERE because as long as I didn't blog about it, he would tell me about his favorite taco secret hovel on 4x and x0th (I am a woman of my word - I told him I *would* blog about it, but not reveal it's exact coordinates). When I asked him what the taco stand was called, he said "Watso Wingo". WATSO WINGO? Would you go to a taco stand called Watso Wingo?

what wild animal do you think salon writer neiwert and cnn's sanchez is talking about?

During a very intense workout on the treadmill (7 minutes total, 39 calories expended - YESSSS! i can eat the creme filling in an Oreo!), I read this (via closed captioning) on CNN:

NEIWERT: Well, that was -- of course, that was an individual lone wolf who was associated with the patriots, but, yes, they basically come from the same sort of ideological background. That's correct.

SANCHEZ: Are they dangerous?

NEIWERT: Potentially, mostly when they feel that they are being threatened. But, for the most part, they are a pretty benign organization as far as that goes.

Because I was gasping for air, slumped over my machine, and feeling extremely light headed, I (silly me) thought they were talking about a wild or rabid animal (I was thinking Moose, Elk, or glowy - red - eyed rabbit) but you know what they were really talking about? Sarah Palin and her connection to the Alaskan Independence Party.

http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0810/14/cnr.07.html

Scarier than a threatened glowy - red - eyed rabbit.

rudy huxtable was cute but...

she was definitely sporting an 8 year old mustache:

carton of irregular cat hats - i know you want them

Spotted on Craigslist San Diego. Who the HELL does this to their cat?

Carton Of Irregular Cat Hats

---

Date: 2008-02-07, 11:01AM PST


Hello. I have a big box of used cat and kitten hats that I have collected over the years for various occasions. As of recently my cat, Snowman, is no longer living and thus I am forced to get rid of these precious memories. I would not feel right asking money for them so I am offering the whole box for free. There are many styles from formal to cute and funny.

There is a variety of 14 different hats total. I just hope you and your pet can find as much joy in these hats as me and Snowman once did.

E-mail me if you are interested and I will give you my address where you can pick them up. I can also arrange for a free delivery if you are not too far away.

Thank you, Patty

signs

there are a lot of weird signs out there. i'm not talking about signs like crop circles or other paranormal signals that m. night shyamalan makes movies about so that you shit in your pants in fear. i'm talking about signs made by man himself.

"The Most Frustrating Sign" on view at the denver international airport:

"I'm a piece of paper. May I help you?"

MAY I HELP YOU? Is this some kind of a JOKE?










"The Most Ill Advised Emergency Plan Sign" also at denver international airport.

I don't know about you, but a bathroom is quite possibly the LAST place i would want to be during a tornado...










Lastly, the "Overly Specific Sign" as seen in the NY Subway.


"Lean on your best friend for the $50 he owes you. But don't lean on the subway car doors."

Isn't this sign strangely specific? It's as if the copywriter's best friend owes him $50 and he is either really really MAD and wants to tell everyone that his BEST FRIEND is not paying him back or he's just really passive aggressive.

I can think of a zillion things that make more sense than "Lean on your best friend for the $50 he owes you. But don't lean on subway car doors."

Like:

"Lean on your best friend." FULL STOP. none of this "for the $50 he owes you.
or
"Lean on your Pro Med Walking stick. But don't lean on the subway car doors."
or
"Lean towards Socialism when the current administration seems to be f-ing everything up. But don't lean on the subway car doors."

Sky Mall: More Non Solutions to Problems that Never Existed

Hello Readers. I know it's been, as Audris said, "Ten Years" since my last post. And I apologize. I will make more of an effort to prioritize Blogging above all else.

Since I am a little rusty, and I refuse to blog about the time a dirty gym sock was stuffed in my mouth (but if you catch me live, I'm sure with a little arm twisting that story will come right out), I fall back on old faithful: Sky Mall.

Check this New (!) product out: The "Stealth Secret Sound Amplifier":



















WHAT, pray tell, is "stealth" OR "secret" about this device?

The ad CLEARLY states that it measures 3 3/4"H x 3 1/2"W x 1 1/4D". Even if you're Michael Phelps (God bless him), there is no way that the Stealth Secret Sound Amplifier can be any LESS than 80% of your entire EAR.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a synapse in that woman's brain as that lecherous cad looms closer.

Second: "The Pizza Pro"!!!


Readers, can you help me think through this? I went over the hypothetical logistics of owning the Pizza Pro, and I just can't wrap my bird brain around it.

Step One: You cut a hole in the box. Oh wait, that's a different set of directions. Ok. Step One: you cut through the pizza pie.

Step Two: You pull the Pizza Pro away from the pie and you move it to the left 3 inches. Wait no. You move it to the RIGHT three inches if the spatula is affixed to the LEFT of the scissors. You move it to the LEFT if the spatula is .... Gosh darnit. What's wrong with an ordinary pizza cutter. And let's face it. When does pizza ever not come already cut into 8 slices? When you think you're Mario Batali, that's when! And if you're a 300 pound Italian celebra-chef, you probably shouldn't be eating pizza anyway.










(Mario straddling a chair. Wearing clogs. MUST. LOOK. AWAY. *Shudder*)

detention was my middle name

In elementary school, I was always in detention for STUPID THINGS. All detention meant was that I had to stay after class for an additional 15 minutes. It was okay because my mom was always 15 minutes late in picking me up so as I was walking out of detention for STUPID THINGS, a big red Cherokee Jeep with a tiny Asian lady (my oma!) with big permed hair and sunglasses would be peering over the steering wheel…waiting for me.

Example of STUPID THINGS:

I was in love with Donnie Corn. I don't know why I was in love with Donnie Corn because he had opaque white skin and orange hair. ORANGE. In fact, he looked like this:

Very appropriate that his name was Donnie Corn, now that I think about it. Donnie took advantage of my brains. Meaning, he loved to ask me questions when he didn't want to think for himself.

Donnie: Psst. Irene - how do you spell "cow"?

Irene: "um, REALLY?" (why do I have a crush on you, Donnie? why why why, you are so DUMB!) "CEE. OH. DOUBLEYOU. COW".

Donnie: Rad. Now, how do you spell "dog"?

Irene: leave me alone! I'm going to get in trouble. Ok fine, it's "DEE OH GEE. DOG".

Donnie: Ok, smartypants...how about RAT?

Irene: "S-M-A-R-T-Y-P-A-N-T-S"

Thing is - I wasn't being cheeky. I really thought Donnie was asking me how to spell smartypants and I was THRILLED that he had graduated to polysyllabic words!! I practically sang it to him. SMARTYPANTS!! LA LA LA!

TEACHER: Irene, I've already asked you once. SHUT YOUR TRAP. You're close to getting detention.

Irene: Sorry, Teacher. (sad Irene - I was always getting in trouble).

But Donnie was looking back at me expectantly and urgently. It nearly broke my heart. So I peeled a piece of masking tape that was holding my name card to the front of my desk and wrote, "R-A-T." Rat. I rolled it up into a little ball and flicked it off my desk towards Donnie.

Except.

It hit Teacher SQUARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EYES.

Teacher took the masking tape ball, unrolled it, and read out loud, "ARE.AY.TEE. RAT".

I had detention for 2 hours that day.

the rise and fall of: AC SLATER

Hunky Minority in "Saved By The Bell" (as AC Slater)

Slightly Washed Up Hunky Minority in "Saved By The Bell (The College Years)"

Celebrity Dancer in "Dancing With The Stars"

WIFE CHEATER
http://blog.vh1.com/2008-06-17/ladies-dont-date-mario-lopez/


Master of the Pelvic Thrusting Stink Eye Maneuver



I don't think he fall down farther...but I'm excited for his next move...

*sigh*

i'm confused

so....is it hot or "hot"?

in other words...



hot or NOT hot?

more airport hijinks

5:35 am is not a good time to make a Junior Varsity move.

On the morning of 5/9/08, on my way to Playa de Carmen, I stood in front of the United Airlines self check in kiosk and swiped my credit card. The following words flashed across my screen: “Your flight is actually on US Airways, Dumbass.”

Frustration!!! My instinct in situations such as this (any situation, really), is to turn to the nearest Co2 emitting mammal for solace and comfort. Unfortunately, the small boy standing to my left started to cry as I approached him with outstretched arms and a worried look in my eyes. I ran outside to catch the employee airport bus instead.

Airport buses are strangely similar worldwide, aren’t they? I think they must be manufactured by the same company the world over. It wouldn’t even surprise me one bit if the airport shuttles on flippin' MARS bounced to the same bussy rhythm, and had the same sticky upholstery (blue with yellow and orange lightening bolts).

By this time, low grade panic was pulsing through my body. I was going to be late. So…I asked the only other breathing being on the bus for help and comfort (obviously…). Enter cantankerous driver with Tourette's Syndrome.

Irene: Excuse me. Hi. Are we close to US Airways?
Driver: Grunt. Issalastah (translation: Grunt. It’s the last stop.)
Irene: Ok, thank you.
Driver: Oil fire! Oil fire! Tire fire! Tire fire! SKAAAAA! (translation…???? NO idea. None whatsoever.)

Interlude: Doo doo doo…Irene listens to some music to sooth nerves. Takes a Vicodin and does breathing exercises.

Driver: Grrr, Geta hera wa!! (translation: girl, get out here and walk!)

Sigh. It’s only 5:53 am and it’s already been a long day.

OMG: I just saw something to add to my airport observation list: People who pre-wear their neck pillows and walk around with them on BEFORE THEY ARE IN THE PLANE!!!

why is it that i STILL press "9" whenever i make a phone call from my parent's home?

i'm at home hanging out with my family. turns out that it's a good time to be away from work with layoffs hitting the financial markets pretty hard.

it's a bad habit of mine, but i checked my blackberry during lunch with my mom yesterday.

me: wow. looks like there are going to be a lot of layoffs on wall street this week. even at lehmans.
mom: whaaaaaa? neimans? who's going to make sure their yearly sale happens?

it's so nice to be home.

Would you immediately chop off your arm or take your chances?

Something unfortunate happened to me the other day.

A co-worker walked over to my desk and wanted to talk to me about his upcoming wedding. I swiveled around in my twirly chair to face him. He was standing up (looking down at me), I was sitting down (looking up at him). Ok, everyone have a visual?

Right then and there, God pressed the "slow mo" button on life. A foamy chunk of spittle gracefully arced out of my co-worker's mouth and headed straight to my face. Despite my frantic ducking and dodging, there was no escaping this heat seeking missle. It implanted itself in the worst possible place EVER: IN.MY.EYE.

I immediately slapped both hands over my left eye and exclaimed, "YOU SPIT IN MY EYE!!" *sound of chuckles across the trading floor*

OK, NORMAL.

THEN, I said, "Do you have any diseases?" *sound of awkward silence across the trading floor*

NORMAL???

Ok, ok, so I know I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. But I think it's because I grew up in the 80's where my greatest fear was to contract a blood borne disease. Like that nurse who accidentally dropped test tubes of blood plateles on her face and got AIDS. Or the story where a kid was stuck in the arm with a dirty syringe by a maniacal crazy person and died. I replayed this scene many times over and over in my head. If this happened to me, would immediately chop off my arm or take my chances?

the great questions of 2008, YTD

I have a little black book that I carry with me at all times. It’s my life in calendar format. The last 10 pages are dedicated to ‘Great Questions of 2008”. These are stumpers that come up during my conversations with friends. See how many you get right! Take the Challenge. Answers follow the questions.

1. What do Water Chestnuts look like in its natural form? Like normal chestnuts?
2. Are green peas the inside of green beans?
3. Is Bob Dole’s hand REAL or FAKE?
4. Did African American men or Women get the vote first (technically)?
5. Are coffee beans red?
6. What are macaroons exactly?
7. Do Asians metabolize alcohol faster?
8. How any cabs are there in Manhattan?
9. Irene, why is salt water taffy so special?
10. How do dogs lap water?
11. What is the difference between liquor and liqueur?
12. What do you call people who live in Myanmar, formerly Burma?
13. Is there a test to see if a pilot passes out when flying an F16?
14. Are Snapple facts true?
15. Snapple Fact: Seals sleep in 90 second increments
16. Snapple Fact: Beavers was once the size of bears (!!!! What happened????)
17. What is the origins of SARS?
18. What is Trazodone?
19. What is the Mongolian Blue Mark? And does Irene have it?
20. Is “Knightrider” Michael’s last name?
21. Can dogs be autistic?
22. Is Jon Stewart 5’2”?

Answers:

1. In fact, yes. Yes they do.
2. No silly!
3. Real, but only 1.5 fingers of his right hand work
4. African American Men
5. The coffee tree produces red or purple fruits (drupes). DRUPES!! Hooray for drupes!
6. Macaroons are cookies or confections. The macaroon is a close relative of of the macaroni and the Macarena. JUST KIDDING! Can be made of almonds, coconut, hazelnuts.
7. not faster, just differently.
8. 13,000. still not sure if this answer is correct.
9. Friends, it’s special for so many reasons. But interestingly enough, there is no clear connection between “salt water” and the“taffy” it precedes apart from the fact that it contains both salt, and water. (duh)
10. OMG! They lap it with the tongue scooping it pointing downwards! "A dog's tongue curls down and back (NOT UP) in a sort of fishhook shape and he literally pulls the water up and it falls into the floor of his mouth," explains Stan Coren, professor of psychology at the University of British Columbia and author of "How Dogs Think."
11. A liqueur is a sweet alcoholic beverage, often flavored with fruits, herbs, spices, flowers, seeds, roots, plants, barks, and sometimes cream. Liqueur = Liquor
12. Burmese even tho their country is now called Myanmar.
13. I DON”T KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But one can pass out bc the G force is so great when doing the loop de loop in an F16.
14. Yes. But no one believes me
15. it’s true.
16. also true!
17. From eating civit cats: A team of researchers from China and Hong Kong has found a genetic link between SARS in civet cats and humans, thus the disease seems to have been transmitted across species.***OR***From bats: SARS may have originated in wild bats in China, an international team of scientists report this week in Science.
18. a psychoactive compound with sedative, anxiolytic, and antidepressant properties.
19. Mongolian spots are blue, bluish-gray, bluish-green or blue-black flat skin markings that appear at birth or shortly thereafter during the infantile age ON THEIR BUMS. Common among Asian, East Indian, and African races, but rare among Caucasian and other races. I am fairly certain i still have mine or else it’s a bruise that won’t go away.
20. Knight
21. Yes. Tho not clinically diagnosed as autistic, dogs can have autistic symptoms
22. No. 5’7” seems to be the most common answer out there.

SNAPPLE FACT: You are smarter for having read this entry.

george michael has chiclets for teeth!

it's just wrong. someone needs to inform him that his teeth look like Chiclets.

self strangulation

In 1974, Dr. Henry Heimlich published findings on what was to become the Heimlich Maneuver. A week later, the first choking victim was saved by the method. In 1978, New York City passed a law requiring that every establishment, regardless of size or design, “where food is sold and space is designated specifically as eating areas shall have posted in a conspicuous place, easily accessible to all employees and customers, a sign graphically depicting the Heimlich Maneuver or a comparable technique instructing on how to dislodge food from a choking person.” The bill was passed unanimously by the City Council in 1978 (five days before Christmas and its feasts.)

http://www.backspace.com/notes/2002/08/16/x.html



Take a closer look at this poster:

...doesn't it look like...she's CHOKING HERSELF?

I can just see this scenario play out at The Spotted Pig:


Asian Lady: "That's it!" (throws napkin down) "I just can't take it anymore!" (choking noises)
White Lady: Lady! Hey lady! Chill out! You're going to be ok! You have so much to live for!" (taking her tenderly from behind) ... i love you...
Asian Lady: "aaahhhhhghhghhghahgghhgurglegurgle"

Is this poster a "how to" for the Heimlich or is it really an expertly disguised PSA for the Suicide Hotline?

i know it's a kid's thing, but i swear someone on my floor has this

CROUP (http://www.kidshealth.org/parent/infections/bacterial_viral/croup.html)

Signs and Symptoms

Croup is characterized by a loud cough that may sound like the barking of a seal and may be accompanied by fast or difficult breathing and sometimes a grunting noise or wheezing while breathing.

Flying Sucks

I spend a lot of time in airports. Enough to say that they should be renamed Sinkholes of Productivity or Bastions of Boredom. I’ve clocked in at least 10 dog years at airports and I want to take this time lay out my observations for you. The first two observations have been blogged about (ad nauseum) in previous posts:

Observation #1: “Man and his Hidden love of Tomato Juice when aboard an aircraft”.
Observation #2: “SkyMall is Great!!!”

The next two observations are new:
Observation #3: “The Man and the Teeny Tiny Rolling Backpacks. Why?”
Observation #4: “The Onboarding Process as the Ultimate Proxy for the Hierarchy of Man and Display of Pomposity."

I’d like to focus on #4. I have never understood the rush to get into an airplane. This isn’t the Chinatown bus, everyone. We all have assigned seats. What’s the upside to getting on the plane FASTER? An extra 20 minutes to marinate in stale airplane air while you Observe #5: The Man and his difficulty in putting small suitcases wheels first into the Overhead Bin? Sign me up!

Airlines have stratified the onboarding process to a startling degree. And this stratification wafts an “I’m better than you” fragrance throughout waiting line. As the first class are invited to board the plane first, people are watching JEALOUSLY as they are given the dubious honor of sitting in fart air before the rest of their airplane peers. And I swear airlines are making up more and more categories with each passing day. Does this sound familiar? “We’d like to invite all first class passengers to board at this time. After our first class cabins have been seated, we’d like to invite all Platinum members and Group 1 to board at this time. After Platinum members and Group 1, we would like to invite Diamond members in the following order: Brilliant Cut, Princess Cut, and dead last, because you are ugly: Pear Shaped Cut. Following ALL Diamond members, we would like to invite the Titanium Infused Onyx class along with Groups 2,3,4,5,6. Lastly, we begrudgingly invite the Poopy Pants class to get on the plane.”

Even if my points or my company has paid for me to sit in First Class, I always join the Poopy Pants class and walk on the plane dead last. And if I bought my ticket on Travelocity and my seat is in 2987 B (middle seat, last row), must everyone make me feel like Rosa Parks?

a new meaning to cabbage patch

look what my roommate (aka honey) found!

running out of luck

i came back from Chicago today, on UA 682. it was literally the only flight not canceled or delayed out of ORD to LGA (see picture). as i stared at the departure board in disbelief, i thought to myself, “great, i totally just used up all of my luck for the rest of the week.”

i wasn’t very surprised, then, to find myself wedged between the window and the belly of a very large man from oregon. before i even had a chance to give him a pursed, but sincere, smile of acknowledgment, he asked if he could leave the armrest up so as not to cut into his excess baggage. well, he didn’t use those words exactly, but it was something like that.

i’m the first to admit that at times i may appear to be fickle. boyfriends, dear friends, family, and wait staff have all told me that. but i swear there is, to use a tired cliché, a method to my madness.

example of a "method":

at any given day, i will or will not talk to the person seated next to me on a plane if:

1. said person orders tomato juice – no talk
2. said person orders liquor on a morning flight – no talk
3. said person smells – no talk (too busy breathing through my mouth)
4. said person is a weathered female who looks like she has a good story to tell – yes talk
5. said person is hot – yes talk
6. said person is reading a book that i have read – yes talk, but usually only to say “i read that book!”, then no talk.
7. said person is drinking Heineken with shots of Jack irrespective of time of day – no talk

my fellow passenger fell into category #7. i immediately put on my headphones and tried to lose myself in Depeche Mode.

it didn’t work. he (and i am not kidding you), removed my right ear bud and said:

man: do you live in new york?

irene: yes

man: so how far is my hotel from laguardia airport?

irene: (shrug)

man: i’m staying at the crown plaza times square

irene: maybe 30 minutes by cab

man: but how many miles?

irene: no idea. i don’t drive. i have a bad sense of direction.

man: why don’t you drive?

irene: do you mind if i put my headphones back on?

***two songs worth of time elapses***

man: do you know if i can buy hats and “i love new york” t- shirts near my hotel?

irene: yes, you are in times square.

man: so…i’m close?

irene: you are not only close, you are IN times square. crown plaza TIMES SQUARE.

man: so, then…close.

irene: (in my head) i am so done with you.

i put on my head phones and flipped through skymall. even skymall couldn’t cheer me up.

the last ten minutes of my flight was him staring out the window. unfortunately, my head was in the way and he punished it by staring into the canal of my right ear. then we did the head dance, i.e. i moved back to give him a better view just as he moved back right as i moved forward because he moved back right as he moved forward because he moved back. you get the picture. people do that dance on the street sometimes. we did that same dance, only with our heads and on an airplane. let me tell you, it's a lot funnier on the street. he was annoyed, evidenced by his deep sighs and fidgeting. i almost turned to him and said, “i’m extremely sorry that my head isn’t one big piece of plexiglass.” but i didn’t, and for that, i am very very proud of myself.

i can’t wait for my luck to replenish itself next week.

real blog coming soon...but first...

i know i know - i have been a bit remiss in my blogging. but things have been busy. and anyway, i never wanted this site to be a "diary", so i'll spare you all the banal details of why my life has been so busy. what i really came here for is to say:

i don't know why they do it, but asian parents put the article "the" in front of everything. for example (and these are real examples):

"did you get my forward about the antarctica?"
"do you live on the street with the gays?" (sorry sorry, nothing malicious meant by this...that's just what happens)
"let's go shopping at the nordstroms!"

...etc. etc. does anyone know why? i don't. but it's cute. and it makes me laugh.

pavlov's dog

i like to change up my ring tone every so often. for a long time, it went like this: "beep boop BOO doop" also known as the Counter Terrorist Unit/Jack Bauer/24-the show ring tone. these days, it just goes: boop. boop. boop. boop.

it's a nice, clean sound. i just didn't want anything that made me feel like i was sipping pina coladas in a hammock (someone's ring tone at work does this to me - i almost feel like harry belafonte is about to pop his happy head out from behind a computer terminal and hand me a banana to tally whenever it rings).

aaanyway, i digress. the other day, i was in bed, all snuggly and excited to finish off my book when i heard "boop. boop. boop. boop." i LEAPED out of bed and literally SPRINTED to get my phone. i slipped on the newly pledged floor (why does my cleaning person DO this? who puts pledge on the floor? ok fine, i did, but i was in college and i didn't know any better) and slid right into my dining table.

and my phone wasn't even booping!! i had left the TV on. the booping culprit was the scale on "the biggest loser". its boops are at the same pitch and intervals as my phone's boops.

how is it that i have become so conditioned to running after my phone when i hear it beep?

i'm pavlov AND his dog.

let's play M.A.S.H.

"MASH" stands for Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House. it's a game that i used to play in grade school. the point of it was to "predict" your future in neat categories: your future husband, your future car, your future car color, your future job, your future husband's future job, your future honeymoon location, your future city of residence, etc etc...

in each category, you and your MASH partner come up with 4 choices. and one of them has to be perfectly horrendous. for example, under "car", popular choices are: mercedes, BMW, corvette, and *gasp* a YUGO!! or under "husband": carlos, donald, jason, *omg* MR. ROGERS! then through a slightly inaccurate process of elimination, you come up with "your future".

it's a real hoot. except when you find out that in your future life, you're a bum, living in a shack with your husband Big Bird who drives a multicolored tricycle to his job as a zebra stripe painter to support you and 1000 kids who are growing up in the bad part of detroit.

well, i played MASH over instant messenger with my friend (who wanted to remain anonymous) today.

MASH friend: can we play MASH please?
MASH friend: i'll do your fortune
irenejkim77: yes.
MASH friend: no shack, i know, don’t worry

*doo doo doo...mash interlude*

MASH friend: ok
MASH friend: let me know when you're ready
irenejkim77: yay! ready!
MASH friend: so, as you're cruising down the streets in your RED VOLVO STATION WAGON ....
irenejkim77: NICE
MASH friend: you get all nostalgic, as the palm trees in california remind you of your dope honeymoon in bora bora!
irenejkim77: woo hoo!!
MASH friend: however, the nostalgia quickly fades
MASH friend: BECAUSE
MASH friend: you miss your husband who is off being an ambassador
MASH friend: and saving the world
MASH friend: you look in the backseat of your car at your TWO GORGEOUS KIDS
irenejkim77: (thank god not 100 like in 5th grade)
MASH friend: who look just like your husband and quickly you're back to nostalgia
irenejkim77: ew...
irenejkim77: who is my hubby?
MASH friend: (WAIT)
MASH friend: as you pull into your LUXURY APARTMENT
irenejkim77: oooh
MASH friend: you get a postcard from your husband
MASH friend: which reads ....
MASH friend: "you're too beautiful to work! i'm glad you decided to become a real housewife from orange county*!"
MASH friend: "love always, your husband:
MASH friend: (deleted for blogging purposes)

yippee. i can’t wait.

*only the best show in the world: http://www.bravotv.com/Real_Housewives_2

celebrity animal look a like

i have this talent that oft goes unnoticed. i have the ability to pair celebrities with their animal lookalike.

MATT LAUER...


...looks like a GERMAN SHEPHERD! (more specifically, the german shep from "all dogs go to heaven")




AL GORE...


...looks like a COBRA!!!



SURI CRUISE (so adorable)...



...looks like a precious moments (http://www.preciousmoments.com/) doll!



i know a precious moments doll is not an animal, but i wanted to make the comparision anyway since the resemblance is so striking.