goodbye, blogspot!

New blog here. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

because i suck.

OK, I'm a bad person. I lied. I never did my trip wrap-up. (Well, I drafted a bit of one, but then I gave up because I got lazy and now it's not timely.)

I deserve to be smacked.

I've obviously gotten way too lazy for this blog. Or I've just gotten tired of it-- the same old picture, fonts, layout, etc.

I'm going to play around with it a bit and see if I can revamp it.

Hopefully it'll give me a resurgence of inspiration.

trip wrap-up coming soon!

Yeah, I know. I was supposed to blog throughout my trip. But a) I've had NO time b) Internet hasn't been free and c) even when I've had time, I've been 150% too exhausted to get online. I do regret not having documented the trip though, especially since there's been so many freaking hilarious/amazing/crazy stories that could've been told.

Still, I can tell you this much: This has been the best trip ever.

Like, ever.

Complete wrap-up of the trip -- complete with photos-- coming after it's all over.

Promise. :)

longest trip of my life.

Tokyo lights from above.

30 hours, 3 flights (Cincinnati -> Minneapolis -> Tokyo -> Ho Chi Minh), 2 books, 4 magazines, 400+ songs, countless naps and 1 lonely Christmas later, I've finally landed in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam and I'm 100% pooped.

These, plus an anthology of short stories and my trusted companions

Vogue, Time, Nylon & People kept me busy for 24+ hours of airtime...

Vonnegut gave me things to ponder... at least briefly.

Couldn't tell you what the most amusing part of my trip was... getting assailed for sympathy by a woman in the Cincinnati airport who got her elephant-sized bottles of lotion and perfume confiscated at security (which she made sure to tearfully emphasize was gifted to her by her thoughtful grandchildren; I commiserated but secretly laughed at her stupidity) or getting complimented on "finally getting my braces off" by an TSA official comparing me to my old passport photo (to which I replied, "we don't talk about that photo," and he responded, "trust me, I've seen a lot worse").

Excited to see more of Vietnam tomorrow-- all I've seen so far is masses of people hanging around on motorcycles...

travel tales!

I know it's been a while, but I'm off to Vietnam, Cambodia and Hong Kong tomorrow morning and I'm going to try (key word here: try) to post photos/updates/stories if the time allows.

Get ready yallz.

i'm obese.

Me, basically.

I know it's been a while, but don't worry, kids! I'm still alive and kickin'-- albeit a little sick, tired and LOT rounder than before (Jeans are just... unpleasant. Looks like I'm going to be wearing leggings and stretchy pants for a while).

Let's just say October wasn't exactly a good month for my physical health. Not only did I dispose of all willpower and adopt animalistic eating patterns (why does Halloween, and the four weeks leading up to it, suddenly make you think it's OK to consume 5 candy bars a day?), an army of germs hacked into my system and produced a god-awful cold that's been plaguing me with coughs and sniffles for the past two weeks.

But it's November now, and I know it's going to be a good month. Because November offers the glorious promise of Thanksgiving break-- and most importantly, home. Not fake, temporary LA home, but good old Ohio home.

Oh corn fields, strip malls, suburbia and nippy weather. How I've missed you!

On another note, go watch Disney's A Christmas Carol (it's never too early for Christmas!) in 3D. The stunning visual experience alone is worth the ticket price, though the movie itself is super dark and actually really scary. You can read my review here... just ignore the ridiculous spelling error inserted in the first sentence by my editors (depection? The 'e' isn't even near the 'i' on the keyboard. Don't even get me started on my rocky relationship with the Daily Trojan...).

why i love LA... pt. 2.

Korean BBQ on wheels. Only in LA.

I had Kogi BBQ for the second time on campus today (free both times; the first for a Program Board promotion, today for the Arts Journalism Summit... yeah, the Korean BBQ gods love me) and have decided it is the most brilliant creation on this planet.

It's Korean BBQ with a Mexican twist-- your choice of barbecue short ribs, chicken, pork or tofu wrapped in tortillas and garnished with the most addicting combination of "Korean-style" salsa roja and vinaigrette, cilantro and onions. Basically, a fiesta in your mouth.

It's so good I haven't been able to think about anything else all day. Literally. I've been walking around in a Kogi-induced daze, the spirits of tacos long gone lingering on my taste buds and tormenting my soul. It's like I have one of those Big Boy thought bubbles over my head with nothing but Kogi BBQ in it. I want more Kogi, and I want it now!

Now I know what really fat people feel like after they finish whatever edible item they're consuming: Hopeless, desperate, confused.

I'm going to religiously stalk the truck on Twitter so I can be first in line the next time it's at SC.

why i love LA.

Whip It! Whip it real good.

The Chinese theatre!

People I saw up-close and personal at the red carpet premiere of Whip It! last night:

Steven Spielberg

Quentin Tarantino

Drew Barrymore

Justin Long

Krysten Ritter

Serena Williams

Olivia Wilde

Edward Norton

Eve

Cast of Glee

Yeah. Fabulosity. Justin even spoke to me (I yelled "I love you"; he replied "I'm very fond of YOU"). That's right, be jealous.

Before the movie started, Drew gave a cute little speech at the front of the theatre (it's her directorial debut). She was all fidgety and nervous, shy and girly and self-conscious and adorable. I sort of fell in love with her.

The movie itself wasn't spectacular, though. It was charming, cute and breezy (sort of like Drew herself), but got by mainly on Ellen Page's tomboyish charm, and the storyline (especially the romance with Landon Pigg) was a bit convenient and cliche.

Still, the whole experience-- watching star arrivals from the front of the fan pit and reveling in just how unfairly attractive they are in person, watching the film in the Grouman's Chinese Theatre amongst so many celebs and cinematic greats, and stalking/meeting celebs afterward -- was brilliant.

Oh, Hollywood.

a spiritual experience.

I knew Friday was going to be a good night when two girls approached me and Brittany at the Wiltern minutes before the Bon Iver concert began and offered to trade their floor tickets for our LAST ROW mezzanine ones. Why? Because they had spent the entire day walking around LA and desperately needed to sit. 

Needless to say, we took the offer. And in an amazing stroke of luck, Brittany and I found ourselves moments later standing in the very front of the Wiltern with a perfect view of the show. 

Which, of course, was absolutely mind-blowing. Justin Vernon, I'm pretty sure, is God. 

My only regret was that I didn't get any pictures, since my camera has unfortunately passed away. And that I didn't get to follow the Wiltern show with Bon Iver's Hollywood Forever sunrise show on Sunday (which, I'm sure, was amazing).

After the show, we got to chat with the bearded dudes of Megafaun (the opening band), which was really cool. Sadly, we didn't get to meet Justin... though I would've done any assortment of ungodly things to shake his hand (and then ask him to marry me).

Someday...

Read about the concert here.

funniest shit ever.

What happens when you have a guy with a sick sense of humor, slightly sadistic tendencies, and a lot of time on his hands? Dontevenreply.com, AKA my new favorite website. Basically, this dude named Mike screws with people who post classifieds, e-mailing them ridiculous replies and making them very angry/confused. Hilarious interchanges ensue. Why does he do it? Who the hell knows. The point is, it's brilliant. 

Read it and weep (of laughter).

Oh, and along the same vein, check out 27bslash6.com; David Thorne is a comedic genius. The spider drawing e-mail had me in violent spasms. I almost woke up my roomie.

the horror.

So many questions. So few answers.

A few days have passed since the general clusterfuck that was this year's VMAs occurred, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to get Lady Gaga's frightening bird's nest face out of my head. 

 

This can become a problem, especially when I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep and all of a sudden, BAM!!!, an image of Gaga's horrifying nest head flashes across my eyelids, leaving me quivering under my covers in fear.

dear 12728, i love you.

An ephemeral moment.

I found my soulmate Saturday on my way home from Venice Beach. 

The only problem? I technically never met the man, and he doesn't know of my existence. I sped past his wondrous visage while seated in the backseat of a moving vehicle. 

Still, such trivial constraints of time and space did not stop me from feeling a visceral connection with the strapping young gentleman. The snapshot I took, I am sure, will keep the fire of our love strong and well... Forever.

P.S. If you happen to know the fellow pictured in the photo above, please do send him my way.

why i'm excommunicating my cell phone.

Beware: This thing can snatch up your dignity in the blink of an eye.

I meant to post this last week (as in right after it happened), but I was too busy nursing my psychological wounds to put a coherent thought together. Anyways, I have decided to stop bringing my cell phone to my English class, and here's why:

If your cell phone has ever rung in the middle of class, or your music library has ever spontaneously turned on, you know how much it sucks. You're sitting in class being all studious-like when all of a sudden, seemingly, at first, in the recesses of your mind, and then quite glaringly in your immediate sensory environment, you hear your jolly ringtone pierce the drone of lecture. All eyes turn to you. Blood rushes to your face as you fumble around in your purse to turn it off. Within one or two minutes, though, you get over it: This is why you set your ringtone to a song you like/don't mind others identifying you with. Life goes on. 

But what if your phone was handed down from your gangsta brother, you hadn't had a chance to update the music library (95% of which has African-American origins and involves either the word "drank" or "sexy"), and the tune that interrupted class was one that lauds the sexual merits of a female dancing on a pole?

Yeah. It sucks hard.

Which is why I'm never bringing my cell phone to class again. 

the play-by-play

Class: *discussing role of religion in immigrant experience*

Me: *underlining some lines in my book, blissfully unaware that T-Pain was about to ruin my life*

T-Pain: I KNOW SHE GOT IT CUZ SHE LOOKIN AT ME LIKE SHE WANT IT DROP IT LOW MAKE ME WANNA THROW SOME DS ON IT

Me: (HAH sucks for whosever lame ringtone that is. Wait. Why is it coming from my purse. PLEASE DEAR GOD TELL ME THAT'S NOT MY PHONE.)

Class: *Stares in my general direction. Prof stops lecturing.*

Me: (Fuck.)

T-Pain:  WHATEVER IT IS, YOU CAN'T STOP IT CUZ SHE GET LOW WHEN SHE ON THAT POLE AND THAT LET ME KNOW SHE GOT IT

Me: (OH GOD, HOW DO I TURN MY PHONE OFF? ) *Fumble with phone for a century*

T-Pain: SHE GOT IT SHE GOT IT SHE GOT IT

Class: *Stare*

T-Pain: SHE GOT IT SHE GOT IT SHE GOT IT

Class: *Stare*

Me: (Why, god???) 

Guy sitting next to me with huge, obnoxious smirk on his face: Here. *Takes phone and turns it off.*

Me: Uh. Thanks.

Class: *Totally unnecessary awkward silence*

Prof: ANYWAYS...

Now all 30 people in my English class think I'm a raging tool who listens to T-Pain and doesn't know how to use a cell phone.

SUCCESS.

i knew i should've applied to brown.

Emma Watson is now officially at Brown, attempting the whole I'm-a-celeb-but-I-value-education-so-I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-a-normal-person-and-attend-college thing we've seen countless times before. In theory, it's a good idea. In practice, not so much (cough cough the Olsen twins). 

Stalkerazzi photos of her at freshman orientation show her trying REALLY hard to look all-American and normal, wearing a white t-shirt, jean cutoffs and-- this is the best part-- sneakers.

Mingling. Sort of.

How necessary were the sneaks, exactly?

P.S. Love the nerdy Asian boys in the back-- dayummmm. 

Now I know what I'm missing by not going to an Ivy League.

In all honesty, I sort of feel bad for the girl. All she wants is some good old edukayshun and you know she's going to have a hell of a time getting it. I mean, hell, I'd stalk her if I went to Brown. (Understatement; I'm currently on Brown's transfer website. Just kidding. Maybe.).

It's really quite simple, Em. No matter how hard you try-- no matter how plainly you dress or how many layers of tattered clothing you hide under-- you will never blend in with other college kids. People will stalk you on your way to class, sneak cell phone pictures of you in the bathroom, and treat you like a souvenir ("dude, EMMA WATSON lent me this pencil in English today!").

"I just want to be normal," she says.

Girl, I hope you all the best. But you're the face of Burberry. You're on magazine covers. You're one of the stars of the biggest movie franchise like, ever. 

You will be many things in life, but you will never, ever be normal.

the case of the HFCS-infected yogurt.

The perpetrator.

Sorry for the long absence;

the past two weeks have been a chaotic blur of moving in, buying shit, settling in, buying more shit, learning how to cook (I'm now a pro at making omelets, pasta and paninis), learning how to clean after myself, working out (yes, like physical exercise), starting classes, reading for said classes, writing for the Daily Trojan, hating the Daily Trojan, mooping around the apartment,

etc.

While it's really tempting for me to sit here and complain about all the things I really want to complain about, I'm not going to, because I do enough of that in real life. So instead, I'm going to tell you to go see Inglourious Basterds, the latest Tarantino flick, because it's damn entertaining (even with the scalping scenes-- and if you know me at all, you know that I hate scalping scenes). I'm going to tell you to savor your summer while it lasts, if you're one of my lucky chums who attend Ohio State (which enforces a never-ending summer policy). And I'm also going to leave you with an interchange that took place between me and Nitasha (the roomie) just a few minutes ago that, I think, illustrates our relationship quite well.

Nitasha: (runs to the room with yogurt in hand) OH. MY GOD. THERE IS HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP IN MY YOGURT.  

Me: Please calm down. 

Nitasha: (eats a few spoonfuls) DO I HAVE TO FINISH THIS??? 

Me: Yes. Can you calm down please? 

Nitasha: THERE'S. HIGH. FRUCTOSE. CORN SYRUP. IN IT. 

Me: 

Nitasha: Those are four words that will NEVER be in my food.

Me: You're retarded.

[Fact: The trivial amount of high-fructose corn syrup in Yoplait isn't going to kill you. 

Another fact: Nitasha is an obsessive, born-again, borderline psychotic health freak. 

Yet another fact: After finishing her yogurt, Nitasha proceeded to make mysterious noises from the kitchen for ten minutes that sounded suspiciously like she was eating the entire contents of the pantry and refrigerator. I did not ask questions. Another five minutes later, she ran into our room screaming that she "can't stop eating." And that is why we're roommates.]

12 things we've learned from the movies this summer.

Here.

hometown pride. well, sort of.

In five days, I will be back in La La Land.

The sheer thought of it is making me feel sort of queasy, like I have this slight bit of stomach fever that just won't go away, which inspired me to write about why I gain so much enjoyment from the Nasty Nati. Read it if you're curious, a fellow Cincinnatian, or shocked that someone could enjoy living in... Ohio.

No, this isn't the view I wake up to, but it's Cincinnati at its finest.

items of journalistic interest.

Seeing that I spend a good two to three hours a day splayed out on my deck in an attempt to add some pigment to my embarrassingly (for an Asian who spends the majority of her time in California) pale skin, I've been doing some major magazine-perusing lately (actual novels require too much eyestrain in the sun). Items of interest:

1. Joel Stein, columnist for Time. 

I've never been a dedicated follower of any single columnist; I tend to just drift to articles that interest me. But this guy can get me to read about anything, including sports, which means that I've officially sold my soul. The dude is freaking hilarious. I swear, he could write a ten word sentence about feet and it would have me on the floor. I have to read his columns in private or else people (namely, my parents) will think I'm high. Too bad he's married, because I'm pretty sure I have a crush on him and his genius wit. We even have the same birthday. (Which makes three: my friend Jill, Daniel Radcliffe, and Joel Stein. Yes, I wiki-stalked a Time columnist. Whatever, judging is for losers.)

2. "The New Trophy Wives: Asian Women" by Ying Chu; Marie Claire.

An investigation into  yellow fever. If you're female and Asian-American, you've probably experienced it yourself. If not, you've probably noticed all those Hollywood tycoons with Asian arm candy (Nicolas Cage, Woody Allen, etc.)-- is it love, or a fetish? The ever-elusive question explored, here. (I have some issues with this article, but it brings up some interesting points.)

3. Fashion mags' obsession with the recession.

This is a point of annoyance rather than interest. We all know there's a recession going on. We all know people are in a financial pinch. But fashion mags aren't supposed to be budget-conscious; they're supposed to be a means of escape. When I open a fashion magazine, I don't want to see the clothes I see at the mall; I want to see the creative, fantastical, artistic creations walking down the runway. I don't buy a magazine to see American Eagle and Keds, I buy it to see 3.1 Phillip Lim and Louboutins. So please, enough with the "budget issues," the "everything for under $100," the "money-saving shopping guides." I don't want some diet version of fashion; I want the real thing, thanks.

this is a boy meets girl story... not a love story.

Love -- or something like it.

Remember when I predicted that 500 Days of Summer would be delicious? I was right. One word: perfection. The movie was practically made for me, from the soundtrack to the choice of actors and the beautifully awkward sense of humor. I am in love. Deliriously, ardently, passionately in love. With Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, my husband), and Summer (Zooey Deschanel, my always-quirky and entrancing girl crush), and the refreshing, charming, poignant story line, and every last amazing song placed so eloquently in the movie. (This is one of those movies that use good music well, like Garden State, unlike the movies I complained about). 

But then again, if I've learned anything from the film, 

love's just a word.

i live every week like it's shark week.

Do you?