Photo: 20th Birthday

Nov. 1 1993 - Blow...One more candle to go!

Photo: 20th Birthday

Wait! Is that a glass of red wine in my hand? Ilove sitting on a man's lap!

20th B-day bash at Steps of Rome in North Beach, San Francisco.

Food For Thought

Today’s Food for Thought (courtesy of RPCC)

At least 2 people in this world love you so much they would die for you.

(Of course, my Mum and Dad)

At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

(My siblings, my dog, Uncle Paul, Cousin Cindy, people who owe me money, and maybe my hairdresser? After all, I am her most reliable client and I see her at least twice a week!)

The only reason anyone would ever hate you is simply because they want to be just like you.

(Nope! People hate me because I’m such a bitch.)

A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if he or she does not like you.

(So, next time when someone dislikes me, I just smile?!)

Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before he or she goes to sleep.

(Hmmm. They think of me while casting voodoo spells on me…)

You mean the world to someone.

(If that is true, then why didn't my boyfriend call me for two months?)

If not for you, someone may not be living.

(No way! You are kidding me!)

You are special and unique.

(Hell yeah! My friends describe me as a gay man trapped in a woman’s body!)

Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.

(Could it be the chubby cashier boy at the corner 7-11?)

When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.

(I have yet to determine my biggest mistake ever. Come what may, my brain only has enough room to store the good times!)

When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a look: you most likely turned your back on the world.

(I have never turned my back on anyone. Even when people have turned their backs on me, I keep my door open in case they change their mind.)

When you think you have no chance of getting what you want, you probably won't get it, but if you believe in yourself, probably, sooner or later, you will get it.

(Okay, I get it. It’s all about wishful thinking, dreaming and whatnot. I want to be the Carrie Bradshaw in real life and marry Mr. Big before I turn 32. Tick Tock Tick Tock…)

Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

(What rude remarks? They never register. My eyes and ears are only for the positive words.)

Always tell someone how you feel about him or her; you will feel much better when they know.

(Moment of confession – Mr. You-know-who-you-are, if your girlfriend ever leaves you, I want to be the next in line. After all, I thrive on giving you a massage every night before bedtime.)

If you have great friends, take the time to let them know that they are great.

(Well, my friends, if you have read this far, you are truly great friends. Thank you for always putting up with my badass attitude.)

My friend Dessert Kid spent three days making this amazing cake!

Living With Parents

A Growing Phenomenon In the West

I’m sure that you have read many reports in recent years about an increasingly common phenomenon: after graduating from college, kids are moving back home – the home they once loathed during high school years. They applied for out-of-state universities so that they could leave home precisely the day after their high school graduation.

In today’s society, many children return home when they are barely scraping by. They realize that it may take more than a college degree to become self-sufficient.

In the West, this is a revolutionary trend in modern sociology. However, Chinese people have always kept their kids at home until they get married. Oftentimes, the eldest son stills lives with his parents whether he is married or not.

Here At Home

I don’t even think my sister liked school that much but she was in it for nearly 10 years. I seriously suspect that either she didn’t know what to do with her life and the thought of leaving school became terrifying or she knew that she would have to live with my parents again after school was over. However, performing arts like music can take up years of studying.

She finally finished school this past summer. Since then, Mom has been nagging her about coming home because, “It won’t be long before you get married and start your own family. This is your last chance to live with this family before your life enters a new era as a wife and possibly a mother,” she said.

I got the same preach from my parents when I finished school and look at where I am living now? My parent’s house! I take no shame in it because my parents justified it with such a good cause.

There is nothing wrong with living in my parents’ house. In fact, the two-level apartment is big enough to fit all five of us and it is equipped with everything you need and more. It is comfortable, not to mention the home theater system, surround sound stereo, and a Lifestyle stationary exercise bike.

In addition, everything is paid for. I don’t have to worry about rent, food or utility bills. My mom hires a domestic helper to clean the house weekly. I’m free from most house chores that I used to handle when I lived alone.

Every time I have friends over, they always compliment on the house, saying it is magnificent. The décor throughout the house has a Chinese antique theme. My laundry hamper is an old wooden bucket with two rusty rims holding it together.

Most of the time there are only three of us living here, my mom, my brother and me because my dad works in China and my sister is in the States for school. Oh yeah, let’s not forget the dog…my mom calls him her fourth child.

More often than not, our family tends to live apart. i.e. Last year I was in San Francisco and my brother was in the military, leaving my mom by herself with the dog. The year before, I had the whole house to myself (and the dog) since my brother just entered the army and my mom went to live with my sister in the States. I enjoyed it and had a blast! If we went back a few more years, I was in San Francisco while my sister was in Miami and my brother was in boarding school.

All the years in the States, I chose to live alone because my roommate experiences had always been miserable. Living alone took me no time to getting used to. It came natural to me. I loved to be able to walk around my apartment naked if I felt like it and eat ice cream straight out of the container in bed if I was in the mood (how can you resist Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia flavor?). It was Nobody’s business if I happened to bring home an overnight guest or a hottie dropped by my doorstep in the middle of the night.

After living abroad on my own for years, the thought of living under my parents’ roof was unbearable. I decided to stay put in the beginning and began shopping around for an ideal apartment. My dad was furious when he heard that I was looking to move out. He snubbed and proclaimed, “Over My Dead Body!”

That was the first time and the last time I ever thought about moving out. Dad’s explanation was the same as my mom’s idea. We will forever lose the chance to live together like one family as soon as one of the three siblings is hitched.

Perhaps my parents believe in that saying, “Children should be seen, not heard.”

The 4th Child In Our Family


Meet the Parents – Part 1 – You Cannot Possibly Be Interested In My Daughter

Now the moment of the truth. When it comes to meeting my boyfriends, I have to hand it to my parents. They neither make judgments upon the first meeting nor show any slight dismay or dislike.

My parents respect my choice of mate. Maybe they give me too much credit and believe that I always make the right decision. Or they cannot comment much since they never get to see the whole picture. When the possibility of marriage popped up, that’s the only time they would ask much about my boyfriend and his family. It only has happened once so far.

My mom likes to ask silly questions when she meets my boyfriends.

Meeting Joe Blow #1

Mom: “Why do you like my daughter?”

Joe Blow #1: “She has a great personality.”

Mom: “No!!!! Seriously, you must like her because of her appearance or her sex appeal.

Joe Blow #1: “She is a lot of fun to be around…a well-rounded personality!”

Mom: “Uh-huh. Are you aware of her tantrum? She is quite temperamental!”

Meeting Joe Blow #2

Mom: “In your opinion, what is my daughter’s alluring quality?”

Joe Blow #2: “She is charming and full of life. She is like an energizer bunny!”

Mom: “Are you sure? Are you saying that you don’t care for her look?”

Joe Blow #2: “Don’t get me wrong. She’s beautiful and yet she has more to offer than just a pretty exterior.”

Mom: “Yeah. You like her because she looks pretty. As her mother, I gotta tell you…my daughter is quite eccentric.”

It seems like my mom almost feels sorry for the guys who date me and she warns them about my short fuse underneath my optimistic personality. She sometimes takes sides in favor of my boyfriend or she speaks up for the guy who lives under my tyranny.

Meeting the Parents – Part 2 – Your Girlfriend Is A Tyrant!

The first time my mom had dinner with my Latin boyfriend and I was at a somewhat fancy Thai restaurant. She said to him, “Please order whatever you like. It is my treat tonight.”

When the waiter came over to take our order, I started pointing at all the things I wanted in the menu. Papaya Salad, Green Curry Chicken, Shrimp Tom Yum, Steamed Seabass etc.

Mom: “What would you like? You have not ordered anything yet.”

Boyfriend: “That’s okay. She ordered enough for all of us.”

Mom: “You can order something you like.”

Boyfriend: “She is good at ordering food. When we go out, she is in charge of the ordering.”

Mom: “You should not let her boss you around like that. Would you like something to drink?”

Boyfriend: “I’m used to it. Actually, can I get a Tsingtao?”

Mom: “Sure. Let me tell the waiter.”

I gave him an evil eye and cancelled the Tsingtao before the waiter walked away.

Mom seemed upset and said to me, “You are so rude. He obviously wants a drink. Why did you do that?”

Gosh. I cannot understand why he needs beer to go with every meal, even when we dine with my mother for the first time. As far as I'm concerned, that beer can wait.

When my sister broke up with her childhood sweetheart for the last time, he called my mom almost everyday and could not stop sobbing on the phone. My mom listened to the poor guy, tried to reason with him why it wouldn’t work, and condemned my sister for being a heartbreaker.

Meeting the Parents – Part 3 – Breakfast, Anyone?

My ex from Dallas was seriously concerned when he was about to stay with me at my parents’ house for the first time.

JC: “Maybe it’s not a good idea to stay in your room. I should just stay in the guest room.”

Me: “Are you kidding me? So much for spending the night together and I can’t get some service??? Your ass is going to be on my bed.”

JC: “Y’know. If we ever go visit my parents, they will definitely put you in the guest room.”

Me: “Well, in that case, maybe we will never go visit them.”

The next day, as soon as he walked out my room with his brief, there was my dad, practicing Tai Chi in the living room. “Good morning,” my dad greeted him.

He rushed back to my room, “Gosh. I just met your dad and I didn’t even have a shirt on!”

“Okay. Good for you.” I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Then there was a knock on my door followed by a cheerful voice, “Wakey-Wakey! Do you want breakfast?”

Perhaps after years of raising such a moody, stubborn, picky, and plain difficult child like me, my parents have learned to become more accommodating. They can be so accommodating like you wouldn’t believe!

My college graduation was coming up. My parents’ plan was to fly in from overseas and stay at a hotel close to my apartment. Why?

Mom: “Daddy and I can stay at a hotel so that your boyfriend can be with you. He has to travel 300 miles to come for you.”

Me: “Mum…what’s 300 miles comparing to 6,000 miles? He can stay with friends.”

By now, you are probably thinking, “Cool Parents!” Yes, you are right. My folks are quite awesome!

I am grateful for such unconventional parents who raised me and spoiled me more than they should have. Without their generosity, I could be homeless now. It will be hard when it’s time to leave home and move on to the next stage in life.

What are the chances of finding another cozy home as nice as this one? Probably none. After all, my family is the greatest blessing in my life. My home is where they will always love me unconditionally.

What Sex and the City Vixen Are You Most Like?

When HBO’s Sex and the City took the world by storm six years ago, I fell in love with the show immediately. I could really relate to the character of Carrie – She is smart, sexy, and supposed to know it all about men. She is crazy about shoes and loves to wine and dine. She has some great sex but still has trouble getting the whole relationship thing right.

The show appeals to single women and gay men for not only its sassy title but also the fact that they find bits and pieces of themselves in each of the four characters, Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte and Carrie. Straight men don’t seem to think too highly of the show and probably hardly watch it but they know all about it, especially the character of Samantha. They secretly dream of meeting someone like her but they openly condemn Samantha for her audacious behavior.

I adore the girls because they are beautiful, fabulous, and smart; they are financially independent and exciting in bed. Their conquests of men, sex and career are equally successful. They seem selfish and narcissistic at times but they are never afraid to show their true self. They understand that love is elusive and still make a run for it when they encounter the opportunity of a love affair.

Therefore, I take a quiz to see what Sex and the City Vixen I am most like. Before I go on, let me make a prediction: I am either a Carrie or Samantha.

Here it is:

1. The biggest mistake you make in dating is: (4)

1. Wanting things to get serious, fast
2. Being too aggressive
3. Still obsessing over your ex way too much
4. Being a bit cynical about men

2. How much would you be willing to change for a guy? (2)

1. Not a lot. You'd change your hair... maybe.
2. You'd possibly change. And possibly not.
3. It's hard for you to compromise.For the right guy, it could be something big... like quitting smoking. But it takes you a while to come around.
4. For the love of your life, almost anything. You'd change your life plans, if that’s what it takes to marry your dream guy.

3. Have you ever cheated on a guy? (3)

1. No way. You would never do anything like that.
2. Nope, you have enough trouble keeping one guy around.
3. You have, and you were torn apart by it.
4. Who hasn't? Seriously, you don't make a habit of it - but it's happened.

4. Your perfect first date is: (4)

1. Romantic. From him picking you up with flowers to walking you to your door at the end.
2. Casual. A walk through the park together, followed up by lunch at a cafe.
3. Wild. You love dancing the night away, or taking a last minute trip to Rio.
4. High energy. A dinner out with lots of conversation, and maybe even a little heated debate.

5. When it comes to giving your friends dating advice, you: (2)

1. Are optimistic. You tend to see the best in their situation, even if the guy they are dating is kind of jerky.
2. Are a breath of fresh air. You'll listen to their problems, but in the end, your fun attitude is what cheers them up.
3. Are very sympathetic - and you tend to relate your situations to stuff that has happened to you.
4. Are likely to bring them back down to reality with some unbiased words.

6. What do you think about getting married? (2)

1. Absolutely. If you are serious about someone, marriage has to be on the table.
2. It's hard to give up your independence, but you think you might eventually get married.
3. You think you might some day. But maybe not. It may take the right guy, but the right guy may not be enough.
4. Not important to you. Your life is great as is - marriage is not something you think about.

7. On a date, it's best to wear: (4)

1. Something new. Old clothes carry too much past relationship baggage.
2. Something feminine. Men like to see dates in something pretty.
3. Something everyday. You aren't about to put a lot of thought into *clothes*
4. Something sexy. It's all about advertising what you've got.

8. What age man do you prefer to date? (4)

1. Someone close to your own age.
2. Someone a tad older than you, like most women.
3. Younger guys. You need someone who can keep up!
4. It varies. Sometimes near your age, sometimes younger, sometimes much older.

Before I announce the result, I have to admit that it is quite surprising. I wonder if there is any truth to the quiz outcome?

When did I become a chica who is not only the least likable but also the most cynical character in Sex and the City?

It says:

“You Are Most Like Miranda!”

While you've had your fair share of romance, men don't come first. Guys are a distant third to your friends and career. And this independence *is* attractive to some men, in measured doses.

Remember that if you imagine the best outcome, it might just happen.

Romantic prediction: Someone from your past is waiting to reconnect...But you'll have to think of him differently, if you want things to work.

The Combination of Four

Over the years, I have grown up with the girls as they stumble on the road to true love. They provide many Dos and Don’ts of relationships and help me discover the characteristics of my personality traits.

Carrie: I identify with her dating style i.e. her on-again, off-again love affair with the devastatingly handsome, but emotionally unavailable Mr.Big. I have my fair share of suitors who are similar to Big. I’m perceptive of my surrounding. Someone who can make me laugh as much as he can stimulate my mind turns me on.

Charlotte: I can be naïve. I am like a mother with my friends or my man. I believe the good in people. I secretly yearn for intimacy, for attachment and ideal love. I desire a knight in shining armor who is also my soul mate.

Samantha: I can associate with her liberating qualities. I can be selfish and overlook someone's feelings. My personal style includes a liking for low-cut and revealing outfits. Because of it, I could scare potential suitors off with my strong-headed personality.

Miranda: My cynical view on men perhaps has worsened over the years. I am pragmatic. I sympathize with Miranda when she has a tough time deciding whether to give in to the affections of Steve the Bartender. Miranda shies away from a relationship with Steve because he is "just a bartender", not someone more ambitious or stable. I don't give my heart up easily and I am cautious in love. Stability and status are important to me. I share her realistic attitude toward relationships. I am longing for intimacy but I am hesitant to give up my material needs and wants.

I wonder if there is anyone exactly like Carrie or Samantha in the real world. It seems almost impossible that a woman as Samantha exists.

HBO’s team of excellent writers is the reason why the show became a success. They have created four distinctive characters that women can relate to in many ways. They share the same pitfalls, mistakes and temptations in relationships that we are all too familiar.

Watching the show is as if looking at my own dating exploits unfolding on the screen. With the show wrapping up after the sixth season, I wonder if that also signals an end to my fabulous single life.

You Go Girls!

To the Disgruntled Blog Readers:

Let me start by explaining the sole purpose of this creative writing. I have been talking about a book project for months but I never had anything to show. I want to write about all the fun, interesting and fascinating stories in my life and give my two cents on all aspects of life via my personal experiences and observations. I like to tell stories and more often than not, people seem to get a kick out of my stories. Either they laugh at me or laugh with me is all-good. Many friends have encouraged me to start writing because my life is always full of drama – I am a drama queen by default.

The first time I tried to write, I could never seem to turn my verbal words into writing effectively as if my sense of humor and wit would not come off right or simply get lost in written words. It stumped me.

Then someone suggested that starting a blog could give me a head start if I’m serious about writing. It took weeks before the idea sunk in. By mid-August, I finally got off my ass to create my own blog, started collecting my thoughts and turning them into pieces of stories. The blog is merely an instrument to push this writing project forward and it keeps me moving closer to my dream of becoming a Carrie Bradshaw. The blog is like a virtual editor who is breathing down my neck for finished stories.

Nonetheless, I am really an amateur writer. The more I write, the more I realize that maybe I will never become the kind of writer I long to be. The incentive of this creative writing is that it has become a soul-searching journey. In the process, I learn that I would have to be brutally honest with myself and record my feeling truthfully in order to compose anything personal such as the numerous failures I had made in the past. Otherwise, there is no point of writing about it.

For the first time, I’m putting everything and everyone in my life under a microscope. What I discover startled me as I reminisce my past mistakes and recount my imperfections. This work in progress sometimes leads to reality that bites and truth that hurts.

As for other people’s stories, I try to make the best judgment so that no one would feel offended by the ways they are portrayed in my writing. However, it is evitable. Here is something I learned from Discovery Channel. Scientifically, people who were involved in an accident could recall the event differently. There is no right or wrong reminiscence. It all comes down to the matter of perspectives. In other words, I can opine how I remember an event and yet it might be very different from how other parties describe it.

This is all new to me. I’m really just learning the rope about this creative writing. It is painstaking. It takes me a long time to form an idea for a story. First, I jut down ideas, bits and pieces of information, and random thoughts. Then I develop a story line with everything that is relevant to the topic. I revise and rearrange my writing so that it has a consistency and it makes sense.

Before I started publishing my writings, I thought about the issue of privacy. I asked a friend who has been running her blog for a few years. She told me not to mention names, disguise people if the subject is sensitive, or at least ask for permissions when I decide to reveal real names.

By now, I have learned that it’s best not to mention names. Sometimes as I’m chatting with my friends and I find their stories enchanting, then I ask for permissions to include them in my next piece. Some are perfectly fine and give me the OK to publish their names. Some would love to be included but would prefer to go with alias. When I write about other people, I try to put myself in their shoes and think about how they might perceive the story. I do my best not to offend anyone and

It has only been six weeks since I started doing this. Already a few subject matters did not like what they read and expressed their dislike. Some attempted to verify some of the details in my story. Some tried to justify why they did what they did. The other didn’t dispute but asked me not to disclose certain information because to them, it was personal matters.

It’s worth pointing out that when I do write about anything personal, I’m probably part of it as well. It is my story too. I wish people could just lighten up a bit!

I wonder if I’m subjected to losing any relationship after I decide to be candid and examine my personal life. I have never been this honest with myself until now. I’m going to be 31 and of course, my expectation for life, people and everything else is different now.

The way I write is the same as the way I speak. Therefore, my sarcasm comes across and I only mean to be funny. Almost everything is lighthearted and offers a few good laughs.

Honestly, I am feeling a little discouraged because it seems like every time I write candidly, somebody gets pissed off. Now, it fazes me and I’m not sure how to continue this writing.

Family Reunion, Wedding & Birthday Crisis

Family Reunion

My younger sister is in Singapore for two weeks. After she arrived in…as I like to call it “Sing-a-whore”, she realized that she would have a few days off in-between. Then she asked my mom to go visit her. As clever as my mom is, she flew my sister in because all of us are in Taiwan now. My dad is in town for two weeks. The timing could not be better…almost perfect. The last time she came to Taiwan was last December and she even brought her boyfriend along. I was in San Francisco at the time. My sister and I have not seen each other since I went to visit her in Baltimore in March 2003.

My sister came in Friday morning and that night, it was the first time that our family (five of us) went out for a family dinner together in a long time. Kind of a historical moment. Because since I left home in 1990, my dad moved to China to start another business, then my sister followed my lead in 1994, we had been living under different roofs.

There is always someone missing. I am the only one who missed my brother’s grade school graduation and he is the only person who missed my college graduation. And I can’t seem to remember if any of us made it to my sister’s college graduation. However, I do recall going to Miami during the college freshman week when she began school at Florida International University.

Three’s Company

In all fairness, I think that my siblings and I don’t have a close relationship as most siblings do. My best friends probably know more about what’s going on in my life than they do. It’s not that we dislike each other. In fact, we are very fond of each other. In spite of our lack of communication, we do have a bond and get along well whenever we see each other. My brother…Despite being the youngest (he turned 25 this past March), he has provided financial help for both my sister and I when we were in need but couldn’t go to our parents. What a sweetheart!

I believe that we could have grown a stronger relationship if we had all lived together during our growing pain years. Both my siblings spent years in boarding schools. Therefore, we hardly saw each other, let alone spending time together.

My brother, unlike my sister and I, did not care for the education in the States. My parents have talked to him many times about pursuing a higher degree outside of Taiwan but he never seemed interested. I can’t help but make a mockery of the status quo. Now, among the three of us, he is the only one with a real job and yet he’s the only one who is entirely educated locally. I wonder if that makes my folks sigh and regret sending my sister and me to the States.

My sister’s visit is all about food, shopping, more food, more shopping and a trip to the hair salon. In Taiwan, you can a wash, a cut, a blow dry, and a neck and shoulder massage for USD $5. On Saturday, my parents went to my grandmother’s house for their weekly gathering as usual, leaving the three of us at home. Anyway, my sister suggested that we should head to the salon because she needed a haircut and so did my brother. I believe this is the first time we did something like this together. After being pampered, we had a nice dinner in a nearby restaurant.

The night before my sister returned to Singapore, we made history by taking this picture on my bed. The last time we had our picture taken was during our family trip to Europe in July 1990.

We are making history!

The Wedding Blue

My sister’s last minute visit was supposed to end on Sunday but she extended her stay for one more night in order to attend a cousin's wedding. One of our younger cousins got married recently. The reception was in Vancouver, Canada but her parents wanted to have a gathering for the relatives in Taiwan.

Every time I attend a relative’s wedding, the wedding is more than a ceremony to celebrate the union of two people. It is also a family reunion. More often than not, I meet people who seem to know me but I have vague ideas about who they are.

I didn’t recognize my cousin as she stood by the door to greet the guests with her husband. My sister and I thought she was just the reception lady whose job is to lead the guests to their assigned seats. Then we saw all these other cousins and they seemed like total strangers. If they were to pass by me on the street, I wouldn’t even take a second look. I had a faraway look on my face when they smiled at me as I walked by their table. It’s either my memory is failing me or they have undergone plastic surgeries. Honestly, if they are who they claimed to be, they looked nothing like the way I remember them. They are supposedly my cousins. As I looked at them, I thought, “Who are you people? Where would I know you? What are your names again? Well, they don’t ring a bell.”

This is a problem if you have a large extended family like mine. I simply can’t keep track of everyone’s name. Sometimes they look familiar to me but I don’t know what their names are. Last month my cousin from San Francisco was in town for a two-week visit. Cindy and I are close buds despite our age difference (6 years apart). My mom arranged for a family dinner. It turned out great – Cindy and I met a cousin we have not seen since he was a baby and that was almost 15 years ago! I had an image of him as a toddler with an enormous head. He still has a huge head but he is now in high school.

Attending a wedding like this always clicks some sort of a trigger in my mom’s brain. She takes pride in being a modern parent but there are times she is not as open-minded as she thinks she is. My older cousins are all married and now the younger ones are hurrying to hit the altar, too. This abnormal phenomenon is affecting my mom’s psych.

You see, the cousin who just got married is younger than my sister and I. Her brother has been married for two years now and he is younger than we are as well. It would have been better if they were older because my mom would not start nagging us about being single.

On our way to the wedding, she and my sister were talking about one of my sister’s friend who has a boyfriend whom her parents don’t approve. As much as she wants to get married, she will not walk down the isle with her boyfriend because of her parents. “In spite of whatever their parents might say about the partners they choose, most kids will go ahead with it anyway. Your friend’s parents are rather traditional,” said mom.

While my mom’s comment on other parents still resonates in the car, she simply can’t hold it back anymore. With a pissy tone, she said to my sister, “You and your boyfriend should just get married. You don’t get any younger (that is my mom’s ultimate favorite line!). Usually, people get married first and then they move in together. Now that you two are living together, marriage is the next step. You and your sister...I don’t know what you two are waiting for. I bet your sister probably had moved in with some of her boyfriends in the past!”

My sister moved in with her boyfriend three months ago. They now live in New Haven. It is too early to tell if they can deal with living together because they have not spent time together under the same roof due to their hectic schedules.

My sister cultivated the living together idea in my mom’s mind way ahead of the actual move took place. She did it mostly for the financial reason. They spent so much time together and it seemed like a waste of money to have separate places. They have been together for two years now.

My mom is totally losing it. It is inevitable to bring up the topic of marriage when you attend a wedding. The fact that all three of us are single fazes my mom. My brother says he does not have a girlfriend but I think he does. I don’t see a platinum band on my ring finger yet. My sister is the closest one to being hitched because she’s already living with the guy.

My sister explains that the move-in idea is simply for the sake of saving money. Even though she is not ruling out having kids in the future, she believes that marriage is for people who are ready to have kids. Moreover, she doesn’t see the connection between living together, marriage, and having kids. She and her live-in boyfriend have not talked about marriage and she is not about to bring it up if he doesn’t initiate it first.

The Birthday Blue

My 31st birthday is quickly approaching. Age is relative. When I was 25, 30 seemed ancient. In my early 20s, I was growing old before my time. Now I’m 31, I am feeling behind my actual age.

I’m single and have no career prospects. In my extended family, I’m sort of a legend. Among all the spoiled brats in my generation, supposedly I’m one of the few who made it without the family’s assistance. You have to understand one thing. I have some filthy rich cousins who had never had a job, including some that are married with children. In their minds, I was hot stuff because I was on national radio and people knew me. Even though I have left the broadcasting industry 18 months ago, they still remember me by my 30 seconds of fame. At my cousin’s wedding, someone pointed me out and the voice said, “Is that the girl from the radio?”

It made me a little uncomfortable. Obviously, I have not done anything worth mentioning since the radio gig. All of a sudden, I feel this pressure to outdo myself. People still refer to me as the girl on the radio because I have nothing new on my plate in order to take away the radio image. What do I do now?

For the past seven or eight years, birthdays are not what they used to be. A month before the big day, the pressure to succeed begins to intensify and the expectation to settle down escalates. I wonder if there is an end to this vicious cycle.

Why Do People Get Married?

There Goes Another One

One of my younger cousins is getting married tomorrow. I am six weeks away from turning 31 and I can’t help but begin to wonder, "Who Do People Get Married?"

A college friend decided to get married when she learned of her pregnancy. The wedding was going to happen eventually. The unexpected baby sped things up.

My parents dated for almost 10 years when one day, my mum said to daddy, "Let's Get Married!"

"Okay." my dad nodded his head. The rest is history.

I guess, a little pressure can’t hurt if a man waits too long to pop the question. My mom thought it was time to go to the next step because they had been dating for like 10 years. Daddy wanted to wait a bit longer because he had nothing and had not figured out how to make the ends meet. Had my mom not popped the question first, she would be waiting for a few more years before becoming Mrs. Yang.

1. Grandchildren

When I was in my 20s, my mom used to remind me, "You Don't Get Any Younger!" Hell! Who does?! Please let me know if you know a way to remain at 25 years of age FOREVER!

Honestly, I was not worried about becoming a spinster but my mom constantly gave me the ‘Friendly reminder.’ It turned out that she just wanted grandchildren. She once said to me, “I can take care of your kids when you go to work. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll be more than happy to do your job and care for the baby!” Geez, I am not a baby-popping vending machine.

My mom was so desperate that she began considering having a 4th child when she was already in her early 50s. Omigod!

Speaking of grandchildren, my friend Grumpy is slow when it comes to introduce women to his family because all they do is talk grandchildren, which he doesn't want. When one of his girlfriends and his mom started having regular phone conversations, it turned out that they were trying to figure out how to get him to settle down. As a result, he goes very slowly on this aspect. An ex-girlfriend once claimed that this was a huge problem. "So, if you meet my dad, you'll have an orgasm?!” LOL.

I don’t understand why our parents want to deal with grandchildren when they are free at last. Why will anyone give up the good life to trade for baby bottles, stinky diapers and baby’s poops? They have done all that in the past and they want to go through it again when they should just kick back and relax? That baffles me!

Nonetheless, some people would get married so that they could start making babies for their parents as if it is their duty to do so. My childhood friend Meg popped a baby boy before she and her husband even celebrated their first anniversary! As soon as her son was born, he was brought to her in-laws (in a faraway city) and that’s where the baby has been for the past three years.

“Why did you have a kid?” I asked Meg.

“Babies are fun! My son stays with my in-laws so that I can go back to work.” Said Meg.

What a shocking remark! Obviously, she is not fulfilling her job as a mother. How does she know that being a mother is fun when her baby lives two hours away by car from her?

My Parents and their beloved dog (he's really the 4th child)

2. Safety net for retirement

My mom used to think that people should get married and have kids because your children will take care of you when you are old and frail. Babies are the joy of life for grandparents and the safety net for parents in the long run. The key is to be hitched first before popping babies. This thinking is old-fashioned. My grandparents were such believers that they decided to have 14 kids in case not all of them would make it. Back then, it was common when kids died young due to lack of medicine or from malnutrition. It started out as a precaution measurement. How little they knew that all 14 of their kids would be healthy and survived against all odds.

As you can imagine, they probably didn’t like kids all that much but they had kids so that they would be well taken care of when they were too old to work.

Recently, she had a new revelation.

“I am not counting on you kids to take care of me and daddy. I have started saving money for our retirement. When the time comes, we will find a nice retirement home and that’s where we will spend our golden age. By the way, I won’t leave you a dime!” said mommy.

3. Companionship

When there was no such thing as Gay Marriage, Ken, an American, knew that he would need a partner, especially after he retired as a VP for an international corporation. He met my Uncle Paul in Taiwan and brought him back to the States. The age gap is 25 years.

To me, they are just like many married couples I know. They have been living together and taking care of each other for 30 years now. Except for kids and pets, they have everything that most married couples have if not more. They have the flexibility, financial freedom, and plenty of leisure time that any married couple with children will die for. Perhaps those are the reasons that gay couples don’t seem to age as fast as the heterosexual couples do. I personally think it’s because of the lack of pressure to have kids and to raise kids. Thanks to Ken's pension plan, they can afford to take three overseas vacations a year.

Ken always knew that he wanted a young Asian man as a partner. 30 years ago, they met in a bathhouse in Taipei. Keith was looking for a companion to live with him, to take care of him when he’s sick, to go on lavish vacations together, and to sleep next to him every night. My uncle fits the bill.

It wasn’t long before Ken asked my uncle, “Would you like to come back to the States with me?”

At the time, my uncle had just been relieved from the army service. He had never left Taiwan and he realized that Ken could be his way out! He jumped on the chance, went home and packed for his American dream. Ken was either very connected or INS in the 70s was dumb. Uncle Paul soon got a green card and Ken placed my uncle to work under him in the same company. In a way, this relationship between Ken and Uncle Paul smells like a marriage for convenience. It was a win-win situation and both got what they were looking for.

What is cool about their relationship is that they don't need a certificate to prove that they are a union and everything they own is under both names. If Ken disappears from the face of the earth first, my uncle will inherit everything, including Chinese antiques that are worth millions.

You notice how I have not mentioned the word SEX. Here is the sad part of the story.

Underneath this seemingly happy relationship, their sex life is zero. Ken has been impotent for as long as I can remember. Why do I know this? Let's just say that I am close to my uncle enough that we can talk about sex (after all, we both love me. LOL!).

After three decades, Keith and my uncle are just like an old married couple. They didn't need a wedding vow to prove their love for one another. In the past, they had stuck together for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health. Ken had a few major operations that were life-and-death experiences and my uncle was always right by his side, holding his hands. On the other hand, my uncle had been battling against alcoholism and depression. At one point, he was so depressed that he almost drank himself to death. Ken spent thousands of dollars in rehab centers so that he could bring my uncle back to life.

They love and cherish each other. However, there is no pledge for faithfulness but they do embrace the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy.

One time I went to visit them and my uncle put me up in a hotel. It was odd because every time I came to see them, I always stayed at their lovely home. One late night, Ken called my hotel room to find out where my uncle was. He sounded worried and maybe a little bit angry, too.

My uncle had dropped me off hours ago. He kept the motor running, gave me a kiss on the chick, and I just hopped out the car. It seemed like he was in a hurry to go somewhere because normally, he would park the car and walk to my room with me.

I had to make a white lie and covered my uncle’s ass before Ken could bust him for…infidelity? I apologized to Ken and explained that my uncle came up to my room to catch up with each other. We got carried away and had no idea what time it was.

“He is on his way home now. Don’t worry!” I assured him.

I had no idea where my uncle was. I had no idea where my uncle was. I had a hutch though…he was probably at a “gentlemen’s club” somewhere that night!

Anyway, my point is that many people get married for companionship, whether they are gay or straight. It seems like a nice idea to have someone to share everything and to grow old together.
4. Spite Against Parents

A friend recently confides in me that she felt miserable in her marriage because she got married to spite her parents. She said her folks are truly screwed up. She felt neglected as a child because her family discriminated against girls.

WHAT? Is it me or it seems like an extreme move to leap into marriage just to spite the parents? I can’t remember the last time I did anything just to spite my folks. My college roommate Laura had her bellybutton pierced and brought home an African-American boyfriend in spite of her wealthy, Caucasian, Pasadena-raised parents’ dismay. I too was involved with a brotha at the time. I had no intention to spite my folks. I was simply infatuated with dark chocolate. LOL.

One day, her husband pointed out that she had vented all her bitterness on him against her parents’ treatment.

She explained, “The sight of my parents made me want to run. The sight of my parents now still makes me want to bolt. My husband once asked me, if it is the end of the world tomorrow, and I was single, would I go home? That was a simple question; I said no, I would rather wander about alone in the world until it is doomed. I didn't want to go home to my parents, even if the world ends tomorrow.

I am lost. I would think that a miserable marriage is due to lack of communication or poor understanding or any difficulties between the couple. Therefore, the fact that her parents are screwed up made her feel miserable in her own marriage. It makes no sense to me. Maybe she meant that she was not ready for marriage but went along with it anyway because she wanted to run away from her parents as soon as possible.

Obviously, I have never been married and that explains why I am having some trouble understanding it.

5. LOVE

Love and marriage…two things that schools forget to teach us. Consequently, we fail miserably. Perhaps I am a romantic but I would like to think that at least more than 50% of the married couples did it for LOVE (the rest did it for LUST or SEX!). Call me naïve…maybe that is why I am still single. Ha Ha!

If I ever get married, my wedding vow will go like this:

In the name of love, I take you to be my wedded husband. I love you and I know that you love me. Because of love, I desire to be your loving trophy wife. With deepest love and joy, I come into my new life with you. You are the best thing ever happened to me and I pledge to be the best woman you can ever have aside from your mother. (Unless, of course, you are a mommy’s boy!!!)

My friend Fred has been married for five decades to the same woman and this is what he has to say about marriage:

As for marriage, it is commitment. It begins with each finding another to whom they can commit, and stay committed through thick and thin -- and there are plenty of both. It means building a loving relationship, and that only comes over time. A marriage cannot work if each thinks they can walk away when things get tough and stay only when life is on the bright side. It does not begin with either thinking or feeling that they can make something different of the other. It begins with accepting each other, and building with love and care together. It holds together as each share their feelings as well as their thoughts, and is tuned to those of the other. There are no short cuts.

That is today's food for thought.

If you have found your better half, I hope you are happy and content. However, if you are still searching for your lifelong companion, do not give up because everyone deserves to be with someone special.

Absolutely Wasted - Part 2

There are people who really can’t hold their alcohol. You will be amazed by the things people do when they are under the influence.

Uncle Steve Almost Got Ran Over By the Train

Uncle Steve has a deep scar on his forehead that is long enough to cut his head open. The story I hear is that after one night of drinking with his colleagues, he was dumb enough to get behind the wheels. On his way home, he decided to stop the car because he wanted to take a piss.

Out of all the places he could take a leak, he picked the pole right next to a railway track. As he stumbled toward the pole, he was not aware of the oncoming train. When the train passed through, he was barely standing and the gust caused him to lose his balance. Then his head hit the pole first and his body dropped to the gravel. He must have been bleeding for quite awhile before a passerby found him and called 911.

Everyone was so worried when Uncle Steve was in critical condition for about 24 hours. Thanks to the doctors who brought him back to life!

The moral of the story is, do not drink and drive. If you have to take a piss, stay far away from the railway tracks. You just never know when the next train will be coming at ya!

James Broken His Toe

If you have been to any bachelor’s party, you probably can relate to this story from my friend James. Nobody went to jail or the hospital and supposedly, nobody got laid. To the boys, they did not get into any real troubles. However, the wives and girlfriends do not agree.

The boys drank a ton over the weekend as expected. It’s a bachelor’s party, what else is there to do besides drinking like there’s no tomorrow? The featured bachelor is about to give up his beer-drinking life and trade for a woman to come home to everyday.

James crashed into the host’s antique mirror that his grandmother passed on to him. He had very vague memory of what happened because he drank too much. He said he felt bad about ruining the mirror and everyone was somewhat responsible for the accident. Meanwhile, the groom was upset about peer pressure that forced him to drink – he’s not a boozer.

James said, “He could have not drunk. He is bigger and stronger than the rest of us. You know us men; we get a mob mentality when there is a bunch of us with booze. ”

The moral of the story is, do not host a bachelor party in private residence. Take it to a strip joint. There’s no party favor like a bunch of naked women on performing lap dances!

Brad Passed Out On the Sidewalk Somewhere in San Francisco

Brad was a straight A student and an advocate for partying until you drop. Every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday was party time and we would hit the bar scene with a big group of friends. We had many exchange students from Norway and they were always drinking. Brad hit if off with the Vikings and they eventually became roommates.

They really knew how to party. They partied so hard that I couldn’t help but wonder if they had a hard life back in Norway. They would seize every possible moment to have a good time.

One time after a midterm, they had their own party in the apartment. They were super wasted. Someone took out a camera and started taking pictures of every guy’s private part. They had no shame in deed. After the film was developed, they stuck the pictures of penises on the fridge.

Brad would always get shit-faced when we went clubbing. It is amazing what alcohol can do to people. It transformed him from a perfect gentleman to a loud obnoxious partygoer. Under normal circumstances, he would stutter. When he’s under the influence, the stutter would be gone. He could sing along with the music loud and clear while swinging me from one side of the dance floor to the other.

I always wondered how he got home after one night of hardcore drinking. One early morning, I received a phone call from him.

Brad: “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. Do you think you can hop in your car and come pick me up?”

Me: “Ummm, where are you?”

Brad: “I dunno. The last thing I remember was walking out of Abby’s Tavern with someone. I woke up just now and found myself on the sidewalk. I must have passed out on my way home.”

Me: “Do you have any idea where you are now? I can’t go out to look for you if I don’t know your exact location. It’s like looking for a needle in the haystack.”

Brad: “Why don’t you come down to Abby’s on Geary Blvd. first and do a search within the five-mile radius?”

It took me more than an hour to find the boys - Brad along with another hungover friend. They were on the sidewalk all right –when I spotted them, they were sitting outside of a no name bar.

The moral of the story is, always pair up with a friend who stays sober while you drink your life away. Your friend is your ticket to returning home safely.

I Got A Black Eye

Last New Year’s Eve was EVENTFUL. I had my first black eye.

No, I didn’t get into a catfight. Yes, I can be verbally violent but I am never physically violent.

The evening started out great. We met up at Ben’s condo in the Mission district. The plan was to eat something light and have a few drinks. Then we would get a cab to head down to Butterfly on Pier 33 for a night of drinking, dancing and fireworks on the waterfront. It was a fabulous plan for a new year’s eve.

Before heading down to Butterfly (DAMN! The lady in red looked good!)

Butterfly on Pier 33 charged $75 per person on New Year’s Eve and reservations had to be made in advance. Ben, Mike, and I had RSVP online. However, Kam didn’t feel like paying $75 but he came along, hoping to sneak in. He figured that it would be chaotic at the door and he could just walk in when the bouncer wasn’t looking. Unbelievably, he got in without paying a dime. I still don’t know how he did it but he made it. Once we’re inside the restaurant, we hogged the open bar and started drinking whatever the bartender passed on to us.

It was a cold and rainy night. The weather really put a damper on the holiday mood. Before heading down to Butterfly, I warned the boys that after the party was over, it would be difficult to get a cab because it’s New Year’s Eve and everyone in the city would be out drinking ‘till dawn. At the end of the night, everyone would be trying to hail a taxi to go home but then there would not be enough cabs to go around.

My prediction came true. The downpour continued throughout the night and didn’t seem to slow down either. We ended up walking in the freezing cold weather from Pier 33 all the way to the BART station by Embarcadero. If you’re familiar with San Francisco’s waterfront, you have a good idea how long that walk was.

I know what you’re thinking, “How romantic it is to be walking in the rain in the early morning on New Year’s Day.”

For your information, I was not dressed to walk in the misty rain. I had my high-heels on (open toe, too) and a cocktail dress. I just remember being soaking wet. My coat, my scarf, my shoes, and my gloves were WET. I was freezing my ass off and my toes were numb!

Mike was intoxicated from some hardcore liquor before we left Butterfly. I can’t remember exactly what he had. I just know when he handed it to me for a taste, I spitted it out after taking one sip. It was nasty! Since none of us wanted it, Mike indulged himself by consuming all of it.

On our long journey to the BART station, Mike would not stop messing with Kam and kept teasing him, “Kammy, Kammy, oh Kammy!” Kam tried hard to tolerate Mike’s drunken behaviors. We all knew that Mike was seriously intoxicated and he probably had no idea how annoying he was. If Mike didn’t stop anytime soon, Kam looked like he was ready to slap him silly and shake him up a bit.

Ben and I tried our best to prevent a fight to break out between the boys. We decided that it was best for Ben to walk with Kam and they should keep a distance from Mike.

As Ben and Kam walked in front of us, I had to hold Mike’s hand as if I was his mother walking him to school or something. He would swing my hand way up high and baby talk about some nonsense stuff. I had to reciprocate and started doing the same baby talk. I wanted to keep him away from approaching Kam again.

The last thing we wanted to deal with is a stupid fight in the middle of the rain on New Year’s Eve. However, it got to a point where a fight was inevitable!

Here is the assessment of the situation: Mike is huge – he’s tall, well built, and definitely a muscle man. However, Kam is not a weak skinny Asian boy. He’s a black belt in Karate or something that sort.

If Mike and Kam were to go at it, who would be knocked out first?

The answer is…READ ON and you will find out.

This is what I remember. The distance between us began to diminish. All four of us stopped at a traffic light and almost formed a row: I was on the far right followed by Mike and Kam in the center. Ben was on the far left.

Wait a second! How did Mike and Kam stand next to each other? We were supposed to keep them apart!

As we stood there waiting for a green light, I was thinking, “Why are we stopping? It’s New Year’s Eve and it’s raining like crazy. We should just run over a red light!” Before I could make a suggestion to run across the street, Mike nudged Kam on the shoulder, giggled like a 5-year-old boy, and then put his arm around Kam’s neck in a headlock position. Kam’s reflex was to break away from Mike. During the struggle, Mike ripped the collar off Kam’s overcoat. Kam was furious! He gave Mike a shove that began a chain reaction. It happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to let go Mike’s hand. Before I knew it, Mike lost his balance and his body was leaning toward me.

It was like in slow motion. BAM! I fell into a puddle of water by the curb. As Mike’s 200 lbs. body fell on me, his elbow landed directly on my left eye. I felt this sharp pain on my eye! I wanted to cry. I have never experienced anything as painful as this. Gosh, I could feel my tears bursting out.

As I lay in the muddy water, I could feel my left eye begin to swell up.

I swear we were on the ground for a good 30 seconds if not longer before anyone came to our rescue. Ben rushed over to pick me up and then he asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Why do people always ask if you are okay when it is obvious that you are not okay?!

I was cranky. I was already soaking wet before I fell and to make the matter worse, Mike hit me in the eye!

“Of course I am not okay. Do I look okay to you? I feel pain on my left eye. Look at my eye and tell me if it’s bleeding!” I literally screamed at Ben. Poor guy!

“You look okay, sweetie!” Ben assured me, “C’mon. Get up. Can you walk?”

The story did not end here. The rain did not stop and we still couldn’t hail a cab to go back to Ben’s. After Mike and I got up, Ben and Kam had to carry Mike because he was too wasted. The four of us continued to march toward the BART station. Many people walked alongside of us. There was one destination in everyone’s mind: Embarcadero.

It seemed like the longest walk. There I was, walking by myself in the rain with some three-inch high heels. With every step I took, the pain on my left eye intensified. I wanted to get out of my wet and dirty dress and take my shoes off.

By the time we arrived at the BART station, we were soaking wet, tired, and freezing cold. There were so many people inside the station and some were just as drunk as Mike!

A young woman came toward me and she seemed concerned, “Omigod! What happened to you?”

I panicked. Ben looked at me and said apologetically, “When we get home, I will get you an ice pack for your eye. The swelling will go away. You will be okay.”

It was really a long journey to Ben’s condo. After we exited the station, we were about four blocks away from home. By now, I still had not seen my left eye. The pain never stopped and I could feel the swelling on my eye.

As we walked toward Ben’s in the pouring rain, I spotted a Taqueria that seemed to be a hot joint on this rainy New Year’s Eve. Patrons dressed in tuxedos and gowns were standing in line. The long line stretched all the way to the door! I bet it had been a long night for everyone. You should have seen the looks on people’s faces – they looked beat!

After all the unfortunate things that had happened to me tonight, I could use some good food to make me feel better. Kam agreed to go with me to pick up some burritos while Ben and Mike continued in the long journey home. Actually, Mike was not walking. Ben was literally dragging his feet.

Kam and I got in line at the Taqueria and people seemed startled by my bruised left eye. I was dying to find a mirror so that I could take a good look at my eye. I could not stand the stares I was getting from passers-by anymore!

So, there we were, standing in line and just minding our own business. All of a sudden, two Latinos in front of us started an argument and they looked like they were about to get violent! Some patrons got up and started getting rowdy as if they were expecting a fight to break out anytime soon.

“Damn it! Can I just pick up my food and get the hell out of here!” I thought to myself. Gosh, I was getting irritated. Right then, Kam reached out and pulled me out of the line as one guy came toward the other who tried to back away and then he fell to the floor.

I must be a magnet for stupid fights. If Kam didn’t grab me soon enough, the Latino man was very likely to fall on me. Who knows? He may have given me a black eye, too!

After we got our burritos, we left the premises as soon as we could. Who would think that there would be danger involved while buying burritos at a Taqueria?

When Kam and I made it back to Ben’s condo, we were tuckered out and Mike was already asleep. Apparently, he passed out before Ben pulled out the sofa bed. He was like a dead weight and Ben just dragged his body onto the sofa bed.

What a long night it had been! I wanted a hot bath more than anything but first thing first. I went to the bathroom and I almost screamed as I saw my left eye in the mirror! I began scrutinizing my swollen eye. It was purple and black. I looked like shit!

The next day when I got up, I couldn’t open my left eye. The swelling had gotten so bad overnight that I could not see! I thought I was losing my vision.

New Year’s Day is all about the Rose Bowl. Mike finally woke up when we were ready to watch the kickoff. He seemed surprised when he saw me.

He had the nerve to ask me, “Geez, what happened to you? Who did this to you?”

Mike had no recollection of what took place last night. He did not know how he went from Butterfly on Pier 33 to Ben’s condo in the Mission District. He did not remember getting on BART in the middle of the night with all the other drunken partygoers. He certainly did not recall falling on me and hitting me in the eye with his elbow.

“Oh shit. Can you see with your left eye? Gosh. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.” Mike said with an apologetic smile.

I wanted to kill him. I had the worst black eye in history and all he could say to me was ‘I am sorry!’ It was the first day of 2004 and I started it off with a bruised left eye that’s swollen like a baseball.

While I was upset over my black eye, Kam was pissed off about his overcoat that’s missing a collar thanks to Mike.

Later I found out that Mike and Kam have been friends since college at SFSU. That was 12 or 13 years ago. For some unknown reasons, Mike said he always wanted to pick a fight with Kam and beat the shit out of him. Maybe what happened was what Mike always had in his subconscious.

For three weeks, I had to wear shades so that I wouldn’t scare people with my black eye. My friends just couldn’t believe how I ended up with a bruised eye when I didn’t even initiate a fight!

Since the New Year’s Eve incident, my left shoulder has been bothering me. Whenever I rotate the joint on my left shoulder, I can hear a clicking sound.

I had paid a few visits to our friend Mark who is a chiropractor. Mark insisted on passing on the bills to Mike. In addition, he booked a one-hour massage session for me that Mike paid for. Mike promised to take me out to a nice dinner and a shopping spree when I go back to San Francisco.

The moral of the story is Boys are always boys. When they want to fight, let them take it outside and go at it until they drop. Don’t try to stop them because always the bystander is being injured while trying to break a fight.

Photo: 1st Black Eye

My bruised, black & purple left eye

Happy Birthday!

Birthday Party – Do It the Chinese Way!

It is a Chinese custom to treat your friends and family on your birthday. My understanding is that you should share your wealth or good fortune with others on your birthday. You do it for luck and supposedly, it works like a charm.

Not until I moved to the States, then I realized that friends would treat me to a nice dinner on my birthday and I wouldn’t have to spend a penny for I was the birthday girl – someone special. I can do anything I desire even if it sounds crazy and absurd. Whatever rocks my world, y’know.

I can’t begin to tell you how much I love birthdays. My passion for birthday celebrations began since the first time I blew out candles on a cake and discovered many presents with my name on them. It is as if Christmas except for it is even better because I’m the special birthday girl and today is MY DAY.

Some people are low-key about their birthdays. I always make a big deal out of it and love organizing parties for my friends when their birthday is approaching.
All my life, birthday is all about friends & family, good food, presents, and many Kodak moments. That’s how I was raised. In our family, we have dinner parties for every family member’s birthday.

When my grandfather turned 90, we rented out a ballroom in a hotel and a few hundreds of guests turned up for the party. It was the usual 12-course Chinese meal. The drinking didn’t stop until everyone passed out and had to be carried out physically.

As a result, I grew up believing that on your birthday, you have to treat your friends. When I was little, my parents would let me bring goodies to school on my birthday, which I shared with the entire class. I had my very first birthday party at the age of 10. I invited my friends to a restaurant for dinner and everyone brought me a little present. The highlight of the evening was the cake cutting and then I would start unwrapping the presents.

Back then, the parents would do the gift shopping. I remember I used to receive books, dolls (I didn’t like dolls and gave them away afterwards), photo albums (always needed one more), picture frames (one more couldn’t hurt), hair accessories (I had long hair throughout grammar school), journals and that sort of stuff. They were useful things. The kids nowadays probably receive fancy presents like Xbox, PCs and computer games.

Money vs. Presents

Aside from Chinese New Year, birthday is the only time I will receive red envelops with money inside. Let me tell you, I’m never disappointed with what’s inside. Supposedly, no one is ever too old to receive lucky red envelopes. I can continue to do so until I get married. Even if I’m 40 and single, I’m still eligible to get red envelops from the elders on birthday and Chinese New Year. That is more than a good reason to stay single. LOL.

Perhaps Chinese people are more practical. They just give you money on your birthday and then you can take the money to buy whatever you like. If you often receive presents that are not suitable for you, then money is a good alternative. Yes, I know giving money as a gift may seem tacky but it is the thought that counts.

My mom never knew what to get me for my birthdays and she would always give me red envelopes instead. However, my dad would try to be creative since I liked surprises. One year he gave me a Phillips Walkman. I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to start listening to my own Walkman on the way to school. Phillips had just introduced their Walkman to the mass-market and Walkman was still a novelty.

Another time my dad bought me a Canon camera. That was before the invention of digital camera. At that time, no 11-year-old girl had her own camera. That was very cool.

On my 12th birthday, I received a Corum watch as a present from my dad. I didn’t ask for a watch. Even if I did, I probably would have asked for a swatch. In the 80s, every kid would wear a swatch because it was the trend. I remember swatch used to sell protective guards in assorted colors for their watches. What a weird concept it was! One summer we went to Switzerland and I bought like five swatches at once. At one point, I even joined the swatch club! What was I thinking? Swatch was such a fad. Now I don’t own a single swatch. Do people still wear swatch nowadays?

My godmother is a very generous woman. I love this woman! When I was 15, she bought me jewelries for my birthday. My parents were astounded at its value. For my 27th birthday, she gave me a big fat red envelop that had enough money for a one-week vacation from Taiwan to Hawaii.

Gift shopping can be difficult if you don’t know the birthday person that well. Just think about how many useless presents you have received over the years. When some people open presents that they don’t like, they have this horrifying look and their facial expression says, “What the hell is this? Why are you giving this to me? Can you take it back because I don’t want it?”

One year, I got a giant bottle of Grey Goose vodka for my birthday. Maybe he was under the impression that a party girl like me must enjoy drinking. I would have preferred a bottle of nice merlot.

Last year, my boyfriend asked what I wanted for my birthday. I told him to surprise me. He said, “You are a very difficult person to shop for.” I then put him in touch with my best friend and she could help him choose a present. They began a series of Email correspondence.

She said, “How about you get her a health club membership? She loves working out.” (Way to go. What a brilliant idea!)

He said, “What's in it for me? Can I just pay for the initiation fee?”

She said, “WHAT? You have to buy a one-year membership. You cannot sign her up for a gym and then leave her the monthly payment. Hmmm, why don’t you get her the latest holiday collection from bebe? It’s her favorite brand of clothing and she always buys one dress from the holiday collection.”

He said, “What’s in it for me?”

She said, “There’s NOTHING in it for you. It’s her birthday, you selfish pig. I give up. You are on your own.”

I had no idea what’s in store for me since my best friend couldn’t help him much with the gift selection.

Guess what I got on my 30th birthday.

He gave me bedding set, including two pillowcases, a sheet set, and a comforter. No one has ever bought me something like this. Then I realized that the bedding set was not just for me but also for US! When he would sleep over, he would also get to enjoy the set that is made of 300-thread-count, 100-percent cotton. Yeah, I can see what’s in it for him. Nonetheless, I like it a lot and it is what I sleep on every night.

There is one thing worth noting about birthday presents. It is merely my personal observation. When the economy is thriving, you get more and much better presents. On the other hand, you probably get crappy stuff or no presents at all when there is an economic recession.

Do You Like Your Presents?

A few years ago, I organized a fabulous birthday party for myself and covered the cost. It was an Italian buffet dinner served with all you can drink red & white wine. Everyone had a blast. The following year, my birthday was held at the same restaurant except for this time, everyone had to cover his or her own expense. It was not much – about $30 per person.

What’s interesting is that I received more presents the year when my birthday party was a free for all type. Half of the guests didn’t bring presents when they had to pay for the party, which is not big deal. I was so drunk that I lost a few presents.

Isn’t it weird that I remembered who gave me what? I was wasted!

The next day I called the restaurant to see if they had found my missing gifts. They said, “Only empty bottles all over the floor…you guys finished 50 bottles of wine last night!” Ai Yai Yai! After two years in a row, I don’t think they will ever let me set foot in there again.

Then I called my friend who gave me a ride home after the party was over and asked him to look into his trunk for my missing presents. No luck either. The missing presents were never recovered.

Todd called me a few days after my party.

Todd: That was a great party! We had so much fun and met a lot of cool people!

Me: I’m glad that you enjoyed it.

Todd: So, how do you like your present?

Me: Oh yeah, thanks! I like it.

Todd: (sounding awkward) Is it nice? I have to confess, I didn’t buy it. I sent my girlfriend to the department store to buy you something nice. She said that she got you a scarf but I have no idea how it looks like.

Me: (feeling embarrassed) In that case, I have a confession too. I lost it.

I lost the scarf from Todd and a book called Yellow from Carson that his older brother Frank recently published. The two missing presents remain a mystery.


Sorry Todd. I didn't mean to lose the present from you!

Happy Birthday to All the Virgos!

Quite a lot of my friends have their birthday in September: my friend Pete (2), Ed (5), Grant (14), Mary and Melvin (15), Angela (21), Debby (22), my ex (24), Uncle Paul & my soul mate Shiuan (25), Eri (27).

You know what that means? Their parents were busy in the bedroom during the holiday season. Many births in September were results in their activeness in the wintertime.

Grant had a birthday party last night. We had been talking about it for days. He wanted a party but he couldn’t decide on the location. I asked him to make a guest list first. He then stumbled upon another issue. He said, “Do I invite only my gay friends since most of my friends are gay? What about my straight friends? Some of them may or may not know about my sexual preference. Should I have a party for my gay friends and a separate party for my straight friends? Is it okay to have a mixed party?”

“I dunno. This is how I look at it. People will come to your party because it’s your birthday. What does sexual preference have to do with it?” I said.

For us straight folks, we don’t think about that. We just invite the people we like. However, not all my friends know each other. My birthday is the only time I can round up everyone in one room. Mixing friends together can turn into a total disaster, especially when some of your friends don’t get along. My friend Owen came to my 28th birthday under one condition: he wanted to sit far away from his foe, Mr. L.

The potluck dinner was a total success. He made pasta featuring red meat sauce and white cream sauce. He whipped up some homemade dressing for the green salad and the veggie tray. I don’t’ know how it happened but we had four birthday cakes. We felt much ‘caked out’ afterwards.

Half way thru the party, a friend called me up and wanted to know if I was free to hang out since he was in my neighborhood. I told him about Grant’s birthday party and he asked, “Is there a mixed crowd? Are there any girls?”

Honestly, his questions seemed odd. This guy has a girlfriend whom I have met a few times recently. Does it really matter if there’s any girl at the party?

“No. I’m the only chick here with a bunch of gay men.” I said.

“Oh well, I’ll pass then.” He seemed disappointed.

Some straight men can become uncomfortable when they are in a room full of gay men. I wonder why. If you are secure of your manhood, it shouldn’t bother you when homosexuals surround you. Don’t straight men nowadays already know that gay men surround us all the time? They are EVERYWHERE.

As far as I’m concerned, a sausage party is a sausage party. Unfortunately, there’s nothing for me to take home from the homosexual sausage party! Sigh!

Pre-Birthday Crisis

It seems only yesterday when I was getting the jitters because my 30th birthday was approaching. I literally freaked out and sought advice from my friends who have been thru it before. When you claim to be 29, you are automatically labeled as a young person. You are in your 20s. However, saying you are 30 is a different story. The sound of it just makes you seem OLD.

Everyone assured me that life begins at the age of 30. “Look at you, kiddo! You have not aged a bit since your college days. You actually look better as your age increases. You have turned out well!”

When people used to call me a kid, I tried so hard to appear mature and sometimes I acted too mature for my age. It was Kiddo this and kiddo that. I was tired of people telling me, “You are so young. You’ll understand when you get older. You are just a kid.” I wanted some respect.

As I’m entering my 30s, I thrive on anyone’s compliment that says, “You look so young. You don’t look 30 at all!” Now no one calls me a kid. Instead, I start calling my friends kids. Sigh.

I swear that life moves much faster as soon as I turned 25. Now, I am only six weeks away from becoming 31. Gosh, I don’t even feel 30 yet and I’m going to be 31 soon.

Every year right about now, I always start worrying about my upcoming birthday. I scrutinize every fine line on my face and wonder if I look my age. I start trying on itsy-bitsy dresses from my partying days (Yes! I still have them in the closet), hoping that they still fit me okay. I watch my figure closely and stop eating all the things that are potentially damaging to my waste line (there goes my favorite: ice cream and desserts). I get back on my workout regimen and push myself to exercise everyday. I do all of that with one goal in mind: I want to look radiant on my birthday.

After the birthday is over, everything goes back to normal. I eat whatever I’m in the mood for. I hit the gym when I remember to do so. A vicious cycle happens year after year.

In my younger days, I looked forward to my birthday. I couldn’t wait to get older and I certainly didn’t worry about looking like an old lady. Youth is such a beautiful thing!

Turning 16 was a milestone because I could get my driver’s license.

Turning 18 was a milestone because I was going to college.

Turning 20 was a milestone because in Chinese culture, a 20-year-old is considered an adult.

Turning 21 was a milestone because I finally had a legit I.D that had my picture on it.

Turning 25 was a milestone because I was a quarter century old and thought I would just stop aging then.

After 25, everyday went by like a flash. In my 20s, I looked at people in their 30s and I thoughts, “Gosh, they are old farts.” Now I’m one of them.

In one episode of Sex and the City, Charlotte didn’t want to celebrate her 36th birthday because she didn’t feel 36 and insisted that she was still 35. The girls decided to give her a “Phony 35th birthday party.”

You are as young as you feel. Since I feel 25 instead of 31, can I plan a 25th birthday party for myself this year instead of 31st?

What Women Want

Top 10 Things Every Woman Wants But Doesn’t Want to Admit She Does
(Source: Glamour / February 2004)

1. All the nitty-gritty details of her girlfriends’ sex lives.

Ain’t that the truth? We love talking about it, we love hearing about it and better yet, please tell us all about it as soon as you roll out of that hottie’s bed! Back in our hooch days, we would always gather for Sunday brunch and talk about the boys we recently ‘conquered’ since our last session.

Men do not talk about sex with their pals. However, gay men love talking about sex as much as the girls do. They give you the blow-by-blow. LOL. When you put straight girls and gay boys in one room, the sex talk can be quite stimulating.

During a recent Sunday brunch with my fabulous gay friends, I learned crucial information such as “To Swallow or Not to Swallow” and “Top vs. Bottom”. It’s fascinating stuff. Gay sex is a completely different ballgame.

Sometimes I am amazed how much information people are willing to share when it comes to their sex lives. i.e. a friend told me that she’s never reached orgasm via intercourse. It is startling news. Then I discovered that it’s a common problem for women. I can’t help but wonder, “Is she not doing it right? Or is her man’s performance not up to the standard?” Sex without orgasm is not sex. It is foreplay with a few extra humps but it does not lead you to La La Land. Bummer!

2. The epic downfall of every Miss Popularity she’s ever known.

It’s evil as hell. Women are very competitive with each other. Every so often, we would love to watch someone fall off her pedestal. You see, most of us have to struggle with the everyday life and there are some women just seem to have it all. We want to see them suffer. They can have the cake and eat it too. Some can even bake it and then eat it too. That is unfair! What is more upsetting is that they act as if they deserve it all and this world evolves only around them. Just once in this lifetime, please let that arrogant woman trip and fall flat on her face. She cannot be on that pedestal forever!

3. Shoes that look like Manolos, feel like Nikes and cost like payless.

Personally, I don’t own a pair of Manolos I have tried them on before and let me tell you, they are not comfortable. I think you will need proper training if you wish to wear Manolos. Any normal person will be wondering, “How can anyone walk in these shoes?” once he or she sees a pair of Manolos with their own eyes.

Every time I watch Sex and the City, I just wonder how Carrie can wear her favorite Manolos all the time, let alone going everywhere in New York City with those spike-heeled shoes. I bet Carrie has callus and blisters all over her feet. Yes, Carrie always looks so fine with her sexy Manolos but hey, that’s television! In the real world, Carrie is probably a cripple because she has tripped over her own shoes too many times. Here is an idea. HBO should make an episode on women who have a fetish for Manolos so that you can see their badly brutalized feet.

So far, I have not found a pair of shoes that are sexy and yet comfortable. It's a given - sexy shoes are never comfortable. You can have just one but not the other. That’s the way it is in the world we live in.

I’m a shorty. I love my platforms and high-heels – chunky heels of course. I don’t even wear stilettos because my feet cannot endure the pain. You can ask any woman who wears stilettos, “Are they comfortable?” She will tell you, “They are killing me!” 10 out of 10 women cannot wait for the day to be over so that they can take those damn shoes off. My biggest problem with stilettos is that I don’t know how to walk in them and balance at the same time.

Sneakers are comfortable but you can’t match them with a perfect black dress, let alone a ball gown. Every woman I know has more shoes than she can recall. Last year, I did a recount of the shoes in my possession. 100 pairs were accounted for. One hundred pairs!!! How did that happen? Hello everybody, I’m a shoe freak and I need help! I have no idea how much money I’ve spent on buying shoes but it’s clearly an investment. I loved shoes ever since I first set foot in Nordstrom. They have the best shoes. Nordstrom is a shoes heaven!

One time I was on a business trip to France in December. I walked by a Bally store and there was a huge Sale sign in the window display. I was tempted and decided to go in for “a quick look.” After I went in to browse, the rest is history. I bought so many pairs that day, the saleswoman closed the store so that she could concentrate on assisting me. I literally tried on every single pair of woman’s shoes in store but I also purchased more pairs than any woman would buy in one setting. They were good bargains and Bally does make good quality shoes.

Recently, I made a photo album for my shoes. I stuck the hardcopies on the shoeboxes and put together the digital photos into a computer file. My shoes are divided into the following categories:

Workout shoes – they are indoor sneakers and I only wear them in the gym.

Casual shoes – I wear them when I run errands in the neighborhood.

Sexy shoes – a.k.a. “Come and get me shoes!” I use them to allure men when I go on dates because they make my legs look long and slim; they are very seductive. They literally scream, “Come to Mama!” On the other hand, they can be my weapon if my date won’t go home after I tell him “Good night.” Sexy shoes won’t be so sexy after I pick them up to smack a guy in the head or poke him in the eye.

Dancing shoes – they provide good support and strong soles to endure an all-night-long prancing and dancing.

Shopping shoes – they have to be comfortable and yet not too casual. Gosh, you never know who you’re gonna run into when you’re out shopping. Must look presentable.

I like open toe shoes and I wear them all year long. Once I went to Baltimore in the freezing cold winter to visit my sister. I walked out the airport with my open toe clogs. My sister said, “Are you crazy? Put on your boots or your toes are going to frost!”

“No! I had a pedicure before coming here. Look at them! They’re sexy and just perfect! Who is going to see them if I can’t wear open toe shoes? Besides, close toe shoes are for rainy days. I see snow...but I don't see rain!” I replied. My sister just sighed and shook her head.

Thanks to my obsession with open toe shoes, I probably can never live in a cold climate. I will end up getting frostbites.

4. A big ol’ honking diamond ring.

Every man has his price. Most women I know want a rock that’s so big and shiny; it blinds your eyes. Nowadays, it’s all about showing off your Bling Bling! When a woman finally gets her rock, she can’t wait to show it off. She greets every person the same way, “Have you seen my ring? HERE!”

BANG! You see this white light, you begin to feel dizzy and you can’t see a thing!

My dad has given my mom quite a few rocks but she keeps them all in a safe. Once she had a 10-carat rock and she told us, “Whoever gets married first will get this ring.” I told my best friend at the time who’s a fabulous gay man, “Let’s get married and snatch that ring before my sister or my brother does.”

He turned me down.

Had I been able to convince him to walk down the isle with me that 10-carat rock would have been in my possession by now. My mom sold it recently for double the original price. I guess she got tired of waiting. A 10-carat rock is attractive bait and she just wants grandkids. She keeps telling me that she would like to be a grandmother soon. “Next time around, I won’t be as strict as the way I was 30 years ago. I am a lot more patient now.” In hindsight, my mom wasn’t a terrible mother but she didn’t seem to like kids too much. We had a nanny for years.

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Honestly, I just want a nice platinum band. That’s it. I’m not into jewelry and I get uncomfortable wearing too many accessories. They get in the way, y’know. Simple does it. A ring to show the world that I’m taken is all I need.

5. So much money that she can give away half, then lavish the other half on herself guilt-free.

Wanting to help others is a woman’s nature. If I am loaded to a point where I can afford to give half of it away, I will do it. It is a gratifying feeling when I’m able to help my friends. It makes me feel good about myself and in a way, I’m building up good karma. Everyone needs it. If you drive, you definitely need good parking karma. If you’ve lived in San Francisco or Taipei, you’ll understand the importance of parking karma.

On the other hand, most women like to indulge themselves and then they feel guilty about it afterwards. When women go shopping, it is an act based on impulse. A few years ago, my godmother found out that her husband had an affair with a younger woman. She was furious and bought herself a Porsche out of the blue. She didn’t even like Porsche but then she couldn’t return it either. She just let it sit in her garage.

6. A lover who just knows, no instructions required.

Men have the tendency to say this, “Tell me what you like baby!”

I like many things but I am not sure if they can do all the tricks. The truth is sex is not the same with everyone. Yet what I like is important but it is more important to find out what you can do, boy!

Have you ever had sex with someone who knows all the right moves and performs them perfectly? Everything that person does just rock your world and you won’t even have to say a word or guide him to find your G-spot. Do you know that feeling? When I do meet someone who is sexual compatible with me, I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot!

7. To be more like her mom.

When I was young, I vowed not to become like my mother. She was a compulsive neat freak. She was also overbearing and was always disciplining her kids. She would come after me for minor problems. i.e. she nagged me every time I forgot to turn off the lights. As a reminder, she posted a sticker on the light switch that said, “Please remember to turn off the lights.” Is that absurd or what?! My mother could not stand seeing dirty dishes in the sink. Even there was only one coffee mug. She would wash it and put it back on the shelf where it belonged. Everything in the house was neatly arranged and I would see her tidying things up ALL THE TIME.

Confession: the older I get, the more I become just like my mother.

I’m probably just as overbearing and compulsive like my mother. Last year, I had two roommates who believed in doing laundry every once in awhile. Seeing laundry all over the place was killing me! As a result, I took it on as my responsibility. I started washing their dirty laundry and their bedding sheets as well.

Once I visited an old friend and stayed at his apartment along with his three other bachelor roommates. It was a filthy place! Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink all the way to the ceiling! I couldn’t stand being in a pigsty. So I took the liberty to wash all the dirty dishes. In addition, I cleaned the house and vacuumed the entire place before I left. The boys were so grateful. With tears in his eyes, my friend said to me, “Our house is always your house. You can come by ANYTIME you want.”

8. Thin thighs in 30 days...no, 30 seconds.

It will be nice to have thinner thighs. My thighs are bigger than ever before. It is like a spell. As soon as I turned 30, my thighs got out of control and I don’t know how to stop it. HELP! Why don’t my boobs grow bigger? Why don’t my buttocks become perkier? Leave the thighs alone, damn it!

9. Power. All the power.

Women like to be in control whether they admit it or not. Some women use sex to manipulate men. That’s a power trip for the chicks and they enjoy it!

I love it when I can have sex like a man. I get what I want and I just roll over to go to sleep afterwards.

Men have no idea how this world will be a much better place if women are in charge! I admire men who let their wives take charge of all things. My dad says, “I’m in charge of big things and my wife takes care of the small things. In our house, there are no big things.”

We are not kidding when we say “Girls Rule!”

10. Breasts that get smaller when she’s wearing clothes, bigger when she’s not.

I have made peace with my breasts a long time ago. A female friend recently brought up the issue of breast implants. She was thinking about plastic surgery. WHY?

This is what I think of my boobs. They’re there and I like them just the way they are. Someday, they will probably sag and that’s fine. I won’t have breast implants just because my man says he likes women with big boobs. It is insane to even consider the possibility of getting implants.

Look at it this way. Will a man consider getting a pennies enlargement if I complain about his pennies being too small? I don’t think so.

The boob obsession is originated from men and that’s probably why they invented breast implants for women. Girls, just say NO if your man ever asks you to get a boob job.

My friend Jeremy is fascinated with my tits. He sees me on MSN and pops up a window, asking, “How are your tits doing?” My former fling Kevin used to compliment on my cleavage. “You don’t have like huge boobs but you have this very define line right in-between. It’s nice.”

Most women want smaller boobs when they try to fit into a tight dress; however, they would love to appear tittylicious when they put on a plunging neckline outfit.