My last weekend in Philly!

That’s right; this weekend is officially my last weekend in the Illadelph. I didn’t have great things planned, but I wasn’t counting on throwing up multiple times today, either; life is funny sometimes.

I want to write about so many things that I don’t even know where to start. I guess I’ll do it chronologically!

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Bev, my next-door neighbor, brought me a box of candy from the shore; this one is called “Summer Assortment”. The box is split in two and both sides are the same, so I took one side and mom took the other

Aren’t the colors just so delicious? A while ago, Bev brought back a box of creamy fudge from the boardwalk. I had never really had fudge before, and I didn’t expect it to be so sweet! So of course I only have very little at once, and the box is still sitting around. I like the candies much better.

I’m not usually a candy person, but on occasion I like to have something sugary, chewy, and sour to light up my palate a little bit. Citrus flavors are my favorite by far!

Look at these things, aren’t they cute? The orange and green flowers are creamy mint.

***

I did some ceramics painting when I went to Brooklyn for Susan’s birthday but my mug wasn’t going to be ready until a week later. So, Susan got it for me and recently shipped it to me:

Ceramics painting is a lot of fun; I highly recommend it for anyone who’s got an hour or two to kill.

***

Last weekend was my mom’s first attempt at a bird’s nest noodle dish. The cooked noodle is fried and shaped into a bowl to resemble a bird’s nest, and the rest is basically stir-fried and placed in the nest.

Here, we have shrimp, pork, shiitake mushrooms, string beans, and onions (we like to keep things simple). The sauce helps soften the noodle so that every bite isn’t a crunch; the mix of soft and crunchy is to die for!

Let’s not forget to mention that shrimp and pork make a killer combination; mom’s dumplings are fucking divine.

Homemade cooking is always best, especially when it comes to Chinese food. With this dish, for example, the sauce is always too starchy in restaurants. The shrimp has no taste, the meat can be tough, and the string beans aren’t fresh.

An interesting dessert to follow this dish is chè đậu trắng, a wonderful Vietnamese dessert consisting of black-eyed peas and sweet (sticky) rice in coconut milk. I’ve always only known it as chè đậu, because while there are many varieties of bean desserts (đậu means “beans”), this is the one my mom makes the most (we’re not crazy about chè đậu xanh (made with mung beans).

Another dessert that my mom absolutely loves is chè xôi nước, and you can see it here. She makes it every once in a while. What the Wikipedia article fails to mention is that not all the balls are big and filled with mung bean paste; there are usually a multitude of tiny balls (I call them “babies”) made of just the glutinous rice flour. They’re small, chewy, and delightful to eat. Mmm, just thinking about it makes me want to eat it –  but we just had chè đậu, and too much of a good thing can do some serious damage.

Learn more about chè here.

***

A few days after the noodle dish, my mom made a mean mapo doufu – and I only thought of taking a picture after I had inhaled about half the dish.

The level of spiciness was severely toned down because I had a canker sore, which we attribute to “hot air” (look it up). Nevertheless, it was amazing (yes, everything that my mom makes is amazing).

What you see in the upper right hand corner of the picture is a bowl of tofu and tomato soup with small seasoned meatballs, garnished with scallions. Of course, since this is a Chinese household, it was in clear broth. I didn’t take a picture of it because it’s a rather ordinary soup for us, though it is pretty damn tasty.

Mom just came up to ask me what we should have for dinner, and I suggested mapo doufu. Sweet.

***

Quick update on the wasp! It’s dead:

***

Yesterday was my last day working at the LDC — after four years, seven months, and three days, I left the windowless annotation lab to never again return. Maybe. Of course, I was the last part-timer out of the office. I thought it was going to be an emotional day because I did enjoy working there and I really like the people I’ve met during that time. But, as with graduation, it was just a long, busy, bittersweet day. The end of an era, once more. Plus, I’m going to see a bunch of them people Tuesday evening at happy hour, so it didn’t really feel like the end.

What I didn’t know was that I would see some of them way before Tuesday — as in, last night. I drank like I didn’t know that having lots of beer on an empty stomach was bad for you. Liz drove, I got motion sickness… we went to McDonald’s after the party and it was dry and disgusting so I didn’t finish it, then drove home and I puked on the highway or wherever it is that we were.

I woke up at 6:30AM and was hungry, so I finished the McDonald’s (yeah, I know, gross) and went back to sleep. I woke up again at 9, showered because I was disgusting, made some breakfast… and I realized how shitty I felt once I got downstairs. I made eggs because that’s always helped me fight off a hangover, and naturally I had lots and lots of water. Shortly thereafter, it all came back up. I’m talking projectile vomiting here; my body wasn’t having any of it. Nothing helped. Water came back up, food came back up, medicine came back up — nothing would stay. They say you have to eat when you’re hungover. They say you have to drink a lot of water. They say you have to sleep. SLEEP. Not ride the bus to the Asian supermarket when it’s super duper SUNNY AS SHIT outside. SLEEP. Before we left the house, I had a cup of ginger lemon tea to soothe my stomach. When I got to the supermarket, I went to the restroom and puked it all out. The cup of tea. Gone.

And when I walked out of the restroom, I felt better! When we got home, I felt better! Then I remembered that my stomach had been empty since lunch time yesterday, and I felt nauseous all over again. “No, you’re just hungry,” said my mom. She made rice congee for me — plain, because I didn’t want to fuck with my stomach inadvertently — and I added some pepper, soy sauce, and a little bit of fried shallots to it. It was delicious, and my stomach was happy, just like the rest of my body.

The only other thing I had to take care of today was my purse. I put an open bottle of beer in it last night but I swear it was standing up (as if it was going to stay that way, ha!). Somehow in my drunken stupor I forgot about it and opened a new one that I downed at record speed before Liz and I left. Once we got to the car, I looked into my purse and realized that it was flooded with Heineken. But that’s okay because it’s Heineken, right? Wrong. I took all of my shit out and turned it upside down, inside out to pour out the beer (not inside the car, of course). I chucked the bottle out onto the curb (I’m so sorry for littering) and off we went.

This morning, everything smelled terrible: my keys, my wallet, my tissues, my GUM — EVERYTHING. But we had to go to the supermarket and I didn’t get around to washing the damn thing and all the little shits until about midway through this entry. Now it’s all clean! It just has to dry.

It is now almost 8PM, and I’m feeling nauseous again. Or maybe I’m just hungry.

How (not) to eat a croque-madame

Look at you, so posh with your glass of white wine accompanying your brunch; so clean because you’re wiping your fingers and your lips after every bite. It’s too bad you practically destroyed your food. Here are a couple of tips I would like to share with you:

1. You do not put the fried egg IN your croque-madame. It was served to you a certain way for a reason.

2. You do not eat said croque-madame with your hands.

I totally dig the look you gave me, though–that heavily condescending glance that asked me what the fuck I was looking at, all the while doubting that I even knew how to pronounce anything written on the menu.

But remember, you’re at a French restaurant; it’s only sloppy because you’re stupid.

Wasps

They scare me shitless. This bugger has been in my room for a little while now, stuck between the screen and the window that I promptly closed upon this horrific discovery. I heard something buzz a few times and looked to my open window to see this THING through my blinds, which were thankfully down.

This, my friends, is a thread-waisted wasp. And it’s NASTY.

iCaved

After months of living without my beloved Sansa (it was dropped and went kaput), I decided that I couldn’t take it anymore. Work was getting more and more boring, and knowing that I didn’t have music to entertain me created this unbearable anxiety that only another mp3 player could kill.

And so, here it is.

An iPod. The first ever Apple product that I paid for — and hopefully the last. I must admit, though, that I’m completely in love with it. I even bought a protective suit (ok, a “case”) for it so that it wouldn’t get hurt!

It’s the SiliconBiscuit by SwitchEasy.

In other news, I still don’t have a place to live!

Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole

Let’s get a few things straight:

When French people laugh, it does not sound like, “Hon hon hon hon hon!” Yes, we eat frogs. Yes, we eat snails. And you know that cute pet bunny you had as a kid? A French person probably ate it. And it was most likely delicious.

Yes, I’m Chinese. But why you think I absolutely must speak your obscure dialect of not-even-Cantonese I have no idea. Stop talking to me! I have no idea what you’re saying!

I’m not an animal; I won’t respond to your whistling or that annoying clicky sound you make. “Yes, I’m Asian. No, I will not love you long time.”

You can’t speak sign language. Sorry.

“So, how many languages do you speak?” is not an appropriate follow-up question to “I studied linguistics.”

And I don’t walk fast; your ass is just slow.

There are worse things in life…

At the risk of sounding incredibly selfish/egocentric…

How many of you have heard, upon sharing your troubles with someone, that “things could be worse”? that “at least you’re not [insert situation that is more unfortunate that the one you're currently in]“?

People who say these things are either trying to make you feel better or belittling your problems; if it’s the former, thank you. If it’s the latter, fuck you.

But we all know that things could be worse. Yes, there are people starving in the world. Yes, at least I have food on my plate every day. Sure, my problems are insignificant compared to that — but by no means does it actually make my problems smaller than they really are. You’re not making my troubles vanish when you tell me that. You’re not even remotely decreasing the importance that they have in my eyes, so, while I do appreciate your efforts to make me feel better about my current situation, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.

Because you’re doing just the opposite. Because you have now successfully made me feel like an asshole for complaining about something that, compared to other things, is so tiny it’s not even worth mentioning. Because things ARE worse; I’ve got my problems AND people are starving in various parts of the world.

And I don’t think you understand how disgusting this actually is. What you’re basically doing is getting satisfaction from the fact that people are starving elsewhere. “Oh, at least I’m not one of the people who are DYING OF HUNGER in, like, Africa or something! My life is now much better! THANK YOU FOR OPENING MY EYES!”

La Colombe

I’m very confused about everyone’s opinion on La Colombe. I traveled the city on foot with mom today and stopped by La Colombe for a cup of coffee; the first time I went there was June 30 of this year–I was with my cousin Carol who could not believe I had never stepped foot into that place.

The coffee was decent. Good, even.

Apparently, though, the staff is rude. Snobby. Uppitty. “European,” they say. I didn’t have to deal with the staff the first time I went there, but I did today–and I didn’t get to witness their bad attitude. The barista barely cracked a smile and his way of speaking was very dry, but not unfriendly. We exchanged words, but I still can’t tell if it was a friendly exchange or a very indifferent exchange. The delivery was very dry on both of our parts, and neither of us smiled at all–but by no means was it hostile. Is this weird? I’ve never experienced that before.

Maybe it’s because I left a tip upon paying for my coffee. Maybe it’s because I returned the cups and saucers to the counter instead of leaving them on the tables (I got a ‘thank you’!). Maybe it’s because I wasn’t on the phone while I ordered. Maybe it’s because I’m not a coffee shop dweller and thus don’t have any set expectations. Maybe I just got lucky.

I don’t know. Friendliness is nice, but when people are too enthusiastic it makes me wary.

Reviews also speak of long lines and crowded space; I didn’t see that either time I went there.

I’m not sure what to make of this. I’ll go there a third time and see what happens.

Hypercholesterolemia/Hyperlipidemia

This morning, the doctor told me that the results for my latest blood tests were in and that everything looked good.

But, “Your cholesterol’s a bit high. It’s at 122, the average is 120.”

I gave her the ‘fuckyoutalkin’about’ look, and she proceeded to tell me about elevated lipid counts and said a bunch of numbers like 01.120imanasshole021 — something to that effect. And then she told me that my bad cholesterol was high. I gave her the ‘you’vegottabeshittingme’ look, when what I really wanted to do was punch her in the throat and laugh.

“Did you eat before you came in that day?”
Um, everyone’s instructed to not eat after midnight before the blood tests.

“Do you eat a lot of fatty foods?”
Not to my knowledge, no. Unless my mom feeds me lard intravenously in my sleep.

“Do you exercise?”
Like, practically every day?

Of course my answers sounded more like, “No. No. Yes.” — Jus’ sayin’. There’s a reason why I’m looking at you incredulously.

“You’re gonna have to change your diet.”

What’s funny is that I had tests done about two months before the most recent ones and everything was butter. My diet hasn’t changed in a year — but, if anything, I’ve been eating much better.

Then I took the train to work and thought about how I spent six hours drinking last night, and how my mom thinks I drink too much.

I never thought I’d be sitting here, googling tips for reducing my cholesterol instead of doing work to try and meet a deadline at the age of 23. Life is funny like that. Next thing you know, I’ll be able to predict the weather with my knees.

Oh, wait…

Biiiiiitch bitch bitch bitch bitch…

All I’ve been doing since the beginning of this week is BITCH. Maybe I’ve been generally cranky, or maybe people are lazy fucktards. Help me understand what’s so hard about loading paper into the printer’s paper tray? Help me, because I really don’t understand. Most people at the office, when trying to print something and upon realizing that paper isn’t coming out, see the blinking red light and sit right back down. Look at the screen. Look. Look at the motherfucking screen that’s telling you to load paper into tray 2. Then walk your lazy ass over to the copy room, get a ream of paper, and put some into the printer. See? Not hard.

So once again I found myself loading the paper tray today, and, in the process of angrily shoving paper into the tray, I dropped it. The tray. The tray fell to the floor and a couple of pieces broke off. That, dear friends, is because the printer is now on top of a new cabinet! One that is much taller than the previous one! Why? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! So my knee wasn’t there to catch the damned thing, and it plummeted to the floor.

Brafuckingvo.

In other news, I went to a wedding on Sunday, June 29, and to another one exactly one week later. People ask me, “Do you like weddings?” and I say, “I think so?” Those were my first two “real” weddings. I think I might have gone to two or three as a child, but I’ve only got pictures to help me remember. On the other hand, I’ve been to probably 10+ funerals, so yes, I like weddings.

Brooklyn

I spent this past weekend in New York–primarily Brooklyn–as a visit to Susan was way overdue. After much scheduling and postponing, we settled for this weekend because it coincided with her birthday. Lilly (whose birthday was last Tuesday) and I thus made our way to New York from DC and Philly, respectively, on Friday.

PHILLY –> NEW YORK
Because I’m severely allergic to the Chinatown bus (no, not really; I just hate it), I looked into booking my roundtrip tickets with BoltBus ($13 each way). I later learned about Megabus from my friend Ashley who was heading to New York on Thursday for a taping of the Daily Show–$6 each way! Unfortunately, the available return times were less than desirable, so I only booked a one-way, from Philly to New York. $6 ticket + $0.50 registration fee = fucking good deal.

The bus was set to leave at 5:15pm, and I wasn’t planning on going to work, so I had all day to pack and make sure I wouldn’t forget anything. I left around noon so I could head to the Gallery and get birthday cards for Susan and Lilly, as well as small presents. I walked around the Reading Terminal Market–one of my absolute favorite places in the city–and finally headed to the 30th Street Station, where the bus would come and pick us–New York-bound travelers–up. The bus, of course, was forty five minutes late, but with $6.50 tickets, who really cared?

The man who sat next to me smelled like metal. If you’re wondering what that smells like, get a bunch of coins and sniff them. Sniff them real good. That’s what the man smelled like. Also, he was gigantic, leaving me with not much space.

We pulled up to Penn Station around 8pm and I had to pee like a mother!

FRIDAY NIGHT
Susan took me to Vinny’s, a nice little Italian restaurant not far from her house. The portions were huge and the prices reasonable; I had chicken parmigiano with ziti bolognese, Susan had penne alla vodka.

Later, Susan’s mom drove us to pick up Lilly who got in much later than me. Just as we spotted her at a street corner, it started pouring!

SATURDAY
We started the day with a bowl of cereal and some television. We then headed to The Painted Pot for some ceramics painting. Susan’s friend Kathryn joined us a little while later and ended up painting something as well. We were supposed to meet Gus at 12:30ish, but were late…of course. We had some bagels and it was delicious! We then hopped on the train. Gus was waiting for us at one of the stations and hopped on when we saw him. Off to Coney Island!

It was the Mermaid Parade! There were an incredibly huge number of people, naked, half-naked, non-naked… The boardwalk was very crowded, which, as I understand, is usually not the case. We wanted to ride the Cyclone, but I refused to pay $8 for a roller coaster. We got cotton candy and hopped on the train back to Susan’s place (except for Kathryn, who was to meet us again later).

We got some beer (1664!) and some rice balls, and witnessed a very painful third goal by Russia against the Netherlands–last goal apparently, as Russia won 3-1 in overtime. After much talking and learning about very shocking things (I’m still all wtf about that), we took quick showers and headed out again.

SATURDAY NIGHT
We met up with Kathryn and Vanessa, another one of Susan’s friends from high school, to go to a barbecue at Susan’s cousin’s place. We met some of Susan’s family and had some food before we headed out to the bar. Susan had texted a bunch of people she went to high school with as an invitation to come and join us at The Brooklyn Inn, a place I wasn’t very impressed with–except for the architecture; that place is fucking gorgeous. But the $1.50 pool game, and the jukebox (aka music that you have to pay for), I wasn’t digging so much.

I got excruciatingly bored after a while (because I’m restless when I’m drunk) so I started climbing onto the bars of the gigantic windows and following a girl who looked like Ugly Betty. For serious, she could NOT have been real. I took with me Lilly and Gus–who wanted to find a deli–and stumbled into a bodega, where there was a cat. I sat on the floor and started to pet the cat who enjoyed it tremendously, until a cop came in and asked me if I was all right.

Susan and Kathryn came and took us to The Last Exit, where Susan’s sisters and her sister’s boyfriend were. More drinks, much dancing (finally!), a Soul Train line, getting hit on by someone who told me I was “G.U., geographically undesirable” aaand we called it a night. It was roughly 4am.

We dragged Susan to a diner against her will–even though the diner was HER idea in the first place–and had some delicious food. Or at least some of us did. Gus fell asleep while holding the last quarter of his turkey club, and I had a gigantic pickle. Now that I think about it, I might have taken a picture of that pickle…

By the time we left the diner, it was light out. We got back to Susan’s place at 5:30am, so I guess this covers Sunday morning.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON
We were almost late for Lilly’s bus, which was set to leave at 1:45pm. We were supposed to meet Chaleigh for brunch at 11am, but given the time we got back, it wasn’t gonna happen. Besides, Chaleigh went to a wedding on Saturday, so we could pretty much guarantee this wouldn’t happen. We rescheduled and met her at 2pm instead.

We went to Nolita House, a cute little place in Nolita (North of Little Italy), Manhattan. We walked in to a bluegrass band playing (Nolita House has Bluegrass Brunch on weekends), which was quite enjoyable. I had a croque monsieur–delicious.

NEW YORK –> PHILLY
After a decent catching up with Chal, whom I hadn’t seen since our graduation last year, we barely made it to my bus, which was set to leave at 4:30pm. As in, it was 4:26pm and there were two seats left. I said my goodbyes and hopped on. I’m pretty sure I slept on the girl I was sitting next to, but I don’t think she noticed, as she was in a pretty deep slumber herself. We got to Philly’s 30th Street Station at 6:30pm on the dot, which was very impressive.

VERDICT
New York isn’t all bad. For years I’ve said that I pretty much disliked New York, but that’s because Manhattan was the only part I’d ever been exposed to. I strongly dislike touristy areas in the United States. Brooklyn was very exciting; there seemed to be a lot of things to do. I highly enjoyed the presence of bodegas, which are pretty much everywhere you turn. I do wish Philly were a little more like it…

I had trouble getting up today. It was humid and I was very sleep deprived, not to mention quite dehydrated. I went to the gym after work, and now am in desperate need of sleep. On that note… peace out.