The last few days here have been so great weather wise. 60's, grey and with a constant drizzle. A lot of people here are bummed, but to me, it feels like home.
Last night, went out to see a friends band and this local guy glommed onto me right when I walked in the door. Was hanging out with us all night, talking non-stop and kept asking the band to play Cat Stevens 'Morning Has Broken' so he could sing along karaoke style. In his way broken English, he told us his name was Nick and that he was a doctor. Dr. Nick? All us devoted Simpsons fans had a field day with that. As with Dr. Nick Riviera, we had to question his bona fides as he not only was chain smoking, but forcing anyone in his reach to chain smoke. I watched him pressure this one guy who said he didn't smoke and had given it up years ago to finally break down and start puffing away. I woke up this morning and could smell the smoke billowing out of my clothes in the laundry basket. I took a whiff of my socks and underwear and even they reeked of it. Hi eveybody...
Below is the entry from a couple weeks ago that I couldn't post. I had to change the names to protect the anonymity of my friend as not everyone knows of his condition...enjoy.
Kind of an uneventful week for things that belong in this diary. Was going to go write up things from a couple of fall back topics, like Betty and my ongoing (at least once a week) discussion about Chinese drivers and my daily statements that I cannot understand why they (a lot) will pull the most asshole of maneuvers to cut in front of people because they "think" they are better/more important than the people that have to now wait while traffic comes to a complete stop. Then Betty justifies this behavior by replying that it is their survival of the fittest mentality ingrained for millenia. Cut to me shaking my head about how shitty it must have been in China for millenia to make them such assholes, and then blurting out how this Darwinian explanation demonstrates how sub-human they remain.
Or I was going to write about the old Chinese bats, and how they walk around town with scowls on their faces and move slowly, as if near death. Yet when they see/smell the free samples at the Costco, they exhibit super human strength and speed in fighting for the small cup of Singapore Curry, then gather in a circle with the other bats attacking it like hyenas over a zebra carcass.
Instead, am going to follow up on last weeks lament about how our aging bodies are breaking down. Yesterday, I asked a friend (will call him Chief) about how our mutual buddy (Boss) was doing. Had seen on Facebook that Boss' wife was taking him to the doctor for back pain, and then posting some breaking hearts emoticons. Chief emails me this morning saying that they found a serious health condition and that they are trying to figure out what to do. Got me thinking about my old friend and feel the need to share some stories.
Boss lived on the same floor (Hughes Hall/6th floor) as me sophomore year in college. We weren't super tight, but hung out a bit, mostly playing sports. I remember a night when Boss and another dude (Pooh) came into my room wanting to get stoned and them loving the song Fire in Cairo that was playing on my boom box and then all of us singing along to the chorus. There was many a game of touch football in all kinds of weather and those being some of the best games ever. A couple years after graduation, I was living in LA and Boss moved out to the coast for some reason that I can't recall and we hooked up. I needed to move out of my parents place and we, along with another college buddy (Slick) decided to rent an apartment together in Rancho Palos Verdes (RPV). The place had an amazing roof deck where you could see the length of LA from the South Bay to the Sierra Madres. We could see the planes lining up to land at LAX, and on July 4th, would watch dozens of fireworks shows going off simultaneously.
I think we lived in that place about 3 years...me working and Slick and Boss both deciding to go to law school. There were a lot of fun times together. Like...
- Somehow, we became huge Clipper fans. It was probably due to the fact they sucked and tickets were cheap. We did partial season tix in the most perfect of locations that were $35 each and supplemented those with Entertainment book '2 for 1' cheapies where we could both get in for $10 total with $3 parking. They played at the Sports Arena, which is in the heart of one of the toughest neighborhoods in town. This was at a time when they had to move some games to Anaheim during the '92 riots. While the dance team, then called 'Clipper Spirit', was awesome, the Clippers were terrible and we would spend most of the night making fun of the players, giving them our own nicknames that were funny only to us. My favorite was for coach Mike Schuler, who looked like a dentist (and coached like one too), we would call him Mike Schuler, DDS. Dumb I know, but we could go for hours on this jag.
- Boss and I would play tennis fairly regularly (famously playing in the Tracy Austin Tournament, where we bowed out in the first round) and we had compatible games. Most notably, we both sucked but thought we were better, and when things weren't going our way, we would smash our rackets in fits of temporary rage McEnroe style. We weren't rolling in the dough at the time, and I know we spent more than we could afford buying new rackets. At the aforementioned Tracy Austin tournament, we both smashed our rackets and recall the look of disgust on the faces of just about everyone.
- We were all keen on gambling, particularly the horses. Not very successful at it, but still loved it. At one point, Chief, who was doing better than us financially, bought a race horse. St. Louis Kid was its name. The Kid's first race under Chief's ownership was at Hollywood Park (R.I.P.), and Chief rented a box that day and we all went out to root it on. I believe it was the morning line's third choice at 4 or 5-1 in the 5th race. We are enjoying the early races and our brush with celebrity, soaking in our rare opportunity to hang in the high roller section, and Chief comes up with a sad look on his face, saying his horse had a cough and was scratched. Two days later, the Kid was dead. Can't remember what did him in, but we all felt bad for him.
- Boss had this girlfriend for a while, damn if I can remember her name, but she was a trip. They bought an Iguana together, I'm sure it wasn't his idea, and creatively named it Iggy. Had to feed that poor thing whenever they went out of town and it would escape from his terrarium all the time. One thing Betty (we were dating at that time) remembers is that we didn't cook much, but one night the girlfriend decides she is going to make Hamburger Helper and didn't drain the fat from the meat. The girlfriend had this hyper-motor and she would work in an office all day, then work a shift as a hostess at a local restaurant, then go all the way downtown to a club (without Boss) and dance The Lambada. The Forbidden Dance. Then she'd wake up early and do it all over again. I don't think they ever cleaned their bathroom (the apartment was pretty spacious and we all had our own), but from time to time, we'd go in there to borrow something and would see all of Boss' beard hair caked on every part of the sink. I know that Slick will remember this, but he and I would be watching the TV and notice that from time to time, they would both take showers in the evening (which they never did otherwise) and then they would "retire" early for the evening. As soon as we heard that shower turn on at 7ish, we would both turn and laugh hysterically. To be fair, she had a heart of gold and we also regularly got smokin' deals at the restaurant where she hosted.
- If you know LA and where RPV is in relation to the city, you know that it took 25 minutes just to hit the freeway and then you had to deal with some of the most congested freeways (the 405 and 110) in town. Boss' school was in downtown LA so he regularly felt the brunt of gridlock. One day I'm driving with him in his car (a sun ravaged Toyota Cressida if memory serves) and see the windshield is spiderweb cracked on the drivers side and asked him what happened. Nonchalantly, he tells me he got so pissed in traffic that he punched out the window. I swear he never got that thing fixed. This is the car where he bought a watermelon for a July 4th bbq and left it in the trunk for several months. From then on, that car had such a unique odor that would make you gag for the duration of your ride.
- We had a thing for bad horror movies. We would be tickled when one of us brought a new one home from the video store and we would cackle at how truly bad they were. The worse they were, the more grotesque the killings were done, the better we loved them. One I recall most vividly was Deadly Friend and how the deadly friend killed character actress Anne Ramsey (Momma from Throw Momma From The Train) by exploding her head with a basketball.
- When Betty and I got married, we didn't want to do the stupid chicken dance (and the Macarena hadn't been "invented" yet), but we always loved the way they danced to the Hava Nagila at Jewish weddings. As we are flying around in circles, Boss and Slick decide to take me out by blindsiding me as if I'm returning a punt. I didn't know who did it at the time, but I suspected them and they vehemently denied it. Seeing the wedding video months later, sure enough, there they were. You can watch them conspiring leading up to it and then one going high and one going low. They'd get a fine from the commissioners office these days.
I could go on...I know these will mostly sound terrible to some, but those were some great times for us. Around 94-95, we all moved out of LA and other than once or twice, haven't seen any of those guys for nearly 20 years. While it took some hugely unsettling news to bring them up from the deep recesses of the mind, these are some of my favorite memories from the best of times with lifelong friends. I hope I can see them all real soon.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Week of February 14th, 2014
Had my first visit to a Taiwanese dentist yesterday. Had been hesitant to visit one previously but felt it important to go more than the one time when we go back to ours in Seattle. Was reluctant to go basically due to prejudism as the term 'Chinese dentist' offers a sense of confidence on the same scale as would UN Peacekeeper or Iranian kosher hot dog. I guess only English dentist would be worse. I do see a lot of them around and the kids at school have as many braces as you'd see in the west, so had prepared myself mentally for the experience. I met a super-enthusiastic mom at school whose husband is one and operates a clinic downtown. She said he did his graduate work at Northwestern so his familiarity with dentistry that we are accustomed was calming.
Looked up their website and everything seemed sufficiently modern. Going in, the office was well appointed and charming in a Japanese style. The enthusiastic mom was there and gave me the royal treatment, even joining me in the x-ray room and during the exam, which was a bit over the top, but she obviously meant well and am sure she wanted to make sure I had a great experience so I would recommend to friends. And I totally do. As far as I could tell, their equipment was all new and state of the art. They took this 360 degree 3D image of my mouth from this rotating X-ray machine that I'd never seen before that showed all of my fillings, bone and gum lines, jaw symmetry, all displayed for us to review on a massive flat screen sitting in the chair. They were very proud of the machine saying that it was 'the best from Japan'. After the Turks telling us how much of their high end architecture projects were Japanese built, feel that I have been underestimating their manufacturing strength recently. The chair itself was deluxe...the funny thing about it was that it had a spit sink. Our dentist, who we have been going to for the last 18 years, had done away with them long ago and now only uses that suction thingy. I mentioned it to the mom and her dentist husband, and they laughed, saying that they knew that they are less common in the States these days, then said, "but you know how much the Chinese love spitting." We all had a chuckle at that.
After the exam, and the apparently universal recommendation that we use Sonic Care toothbrushes, admonishments about my problem plaque areas, and the raised eyebrow when I claimed to floss everyday, got a clean bill of health. Basic dental care is covered under National Health Insurance (TW's Obamacare), and from what I can tell, that includes cavity filling and scaling. Not covered was cleaning/polishing, and they "recommended" their three-step process of French design that included polishing with another cool new machine called air-flow, a fluoride layer and something else I can't remember. While the stereotype of the French is that they like it hairy and have a bathing regimen famously different than the States, their dental hygiene is considered neutral. Whatever, it was $90 bucks, figured at this stage that it was worth trying out, and appreciate that they have to make a few bucks outside the government subsidized part of the exam. By law, there are no hygenists and that work must be done by the DDS themselves. Was pleasantly surprised by the minimal amount of time he spent using that horrible metal hook thing to scrape off the plaque. I walked out feeling very clean and fresh and was super impressed overall. Maybe the best part was it was located downtown in a neighborhood I had never visited that was really cool. Got there early so took a stroll around and saw a bunch of interesting shops and tasty looking restaurants, including a Canadian place next door that sells poutine (gross, but so great with a couple of cocktails) and a Spanish joint with paella on the menu. We will be going back soon (next Friday actually).
Moving along...evvvvvvvryone seems to be doing the Facebook movie thing this week. Guess this is the internet generations 'do you want to see the slides from our summer vacation?' What's even more annoying are the sickening comments from friends about 'how beautiful you are', 'what a special family', etc. Yuck. You know you can create those so only you can see it? Of course, I've been leaving a snarky comment here and there, like comparing their movie to Paranormal Activity or A Clockwork Orange, etc...Betty says I won't have any friends left pretty soon. Then got to wondering, when did I turn into the 'get off my lawn' old man?
Thought about that for a couple minutes and then it hit me...at 42 years old. I remember the day precisely. Was at a Mariner game taking a leak and this little kid saddles up next to me at the trough and lets loose a stream that could blast moss off the sidewalk (very NW euphemism). As I looked down at my camp shower power output I thought to myself, I used to pee like that, what the hell happened? At Chinese New Year dinner last week, we're sitting around the table with Betty's uncles (getting wasted on some fine Single Malt) and there was a good 5-10 minute stretch where we were comparing notes as to how many times we wake up and have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Add to that, this week I had another bout of diverticulits (look it up if you dare, it's gross). It seems hardly a week goes by without hearing about a friend that has some bizarre disease (or worse) or that their kids are applying to/graduating from college (or worse). I can recall the days when it seemed like there was a friends wedding every other month, and out of nowhere, I have turned into my dad, complete with sagging earlobes. Fuck.
One thing that was able to cheer me up in a nostalgic kinda way is that I've been consciously thinking about lately is music. I got one of the mega memory iPods last Fall, the kind that holds 30,000 songs, and have dumped every note of music I have onto it. It is awesome...anything I want to hear in the palm of my hand and by hitting shuffle all songs, stuff pops up that I hadn't heard in ages or from an album that I bought and only liked a couple tracks, but in the shuffle format, come to newly appreciate. This week, spent some time creating a playlist...needed one to play in the car/home with the family around that was sufficiently groovy for me, but leaves out the abrasive stuff that everyone else hates. To do so, you have to go through the library, sampling things here and there to make sure they fit the mood. What I have always felt, but was overwhelming as I sifted through the background music of my life, was how a song can evoke such vivid memories of people, places or times in life. Most are wonderful, a few are sad, some just are, with a few kinky ones in there for good measure. I have over 10k songs in my player and was overwhelmed with these rememberances. Smells will do that too, and foods can evoke a memory from time to time, but something about music does it big time for me. When the memory loss starts to settle in, and judging from some of the other recent events mentioned above, that could be pretty soon, am hoping that these little flashbacks are so ingrained in the neural network that my minds photo album is worth reviewing. As these thoughts are running through my mind, I'm listening to the Adam Carolla podcast on Tuesday and he goes on a jag about the Michael Martin Murphy classic Wildfire. Has to be close to 40 years since I heard it, and was immediately transported to the Mayfield carpool in 1975. I was about 10ish, and one of the girls in the carpool, Lisa Jeffries, who was in high school at the time, used to ride horses. Some days she'd get in the car wearing her jodhpurs and riding boots. That look was a slight underdog to win the Oscar in the Classic Hotness category, but edged out Catholic School Girl uniform in a minor upset (the rest of the nominees were Nerdy/Hot Librarian, 6-foot Asian Nurse, and Mary Kay Letourneau). Wildfire was super popular on the AM dial at the time and I always associated her in that outfit whenever it came on. When Carolla played it the other day...I could see her galloping down to the car like it was yesterday. Giddy-up
Looked up their website and everything seemed sufficiently modern. Going in, the office was well appointed and charming in a Japanese style. The enthusiastic mom was there and gave me the royal treatment, even joining me in the x-ray room and during the exam, which was a bit over the top, but she obviously meant well and am sure she wanted to make sure I had a great experience so I would recommend to friends. And I totally do. As far as I could tell, their equipment was all new and state of the art. They took this 360 degree 3D image of my mouth from this rotating X-ray machine that I'd never seen before that showed all of my fillings, bone and gum lines, jaw symmetry, all displayed for us to review on a massive flat screen sitting in the chair. They were very proud of the machine saying that it was 'the best from Japan'. After the Turks telling us how much of their high end architecture projects were Japanese built, feel that I have been underestimating their manufacturing strength recently. The chair itself was deluxe...the funny thing about it was that it had a spit sink. Our dentist, who we have been going to for the last 18 years, had done away with them long ago and now only uses that suction thingy. I mentioned it to the mom and her dentist husband, and they laughed, saying that they knew that they are less common in the States these days, then said, "but you know how much the Chinese love spitting." We all had a chuckle at that.
After the exam, and the apparently universal recommendation that we use Sonic Care toothbrushes, admonishments about my problem plaque areas, and the raised eyebrow when I claimed to floss everyday, got a clean bill of health. Basic dental care is covered under National Health Insurance (TW's Obamacare), and from what I can tell, that includes cavity filling and scaling. Not covered was cleaning/polishing, and they "recommended" their three-step process of French design that included polishing with another cool new machine called air-flow, a fluoride layer and something else I can't remember. While the stereotype of the French is that they like it hairy and have a bathing regimen famously different than the States, their dental hygiene is considered neutral. Whatever, it was $90 bucks, figured at this stage that it was worth trying out, and appreciate that they have to make a few bucks outside the government subsidized part of the exam. By law, there are no hygenists and that work must be done by the DDS themselves. Was pleasantly surprised by the minimal amount of time he spent using that horrible metal hook thing to scrape off the plaque. I walked out feeling very clean and fresh and was super impressed overall. Maybe the best part was it was located downtown in a neighborhood I had never visited that was really cool. Got there early so took a stroll around and saw a bunch of interesting shops and tasty looking restaurants, including a Canadian place next door that sells poutine (gross, but so great with a couple of cocktails) and a Spanish joint with paella on the menu. We will be going back soon (next Friday actually).
Moving along...evvvvvvvryone seems to be doing the Facebook movie thing this week. Guess this is the internet generations 'do you want to see the slides from our summer vacation?' What's even more annoying are the sickening comments from friends about 'how beautiful you are', 'what a special family', etc. Yuck. You know you can create those so only you can see it? Of course, I've been leaving a snarky comment here and there, like comparing their movie to Paranormal Activity or A Clockwork Orange, etc...Betty says I won't have any friends left pretty soon. Then got to wondering, when did I turn into the 'get off my lawn' old man?
Thought about that for a couple minutes and then it hit me...at 42 years old. I remember the day precisely. Was at a Mariner game taking a leak and this little kid saddles up next to me at the trough and lets loose a stream that could blast moss off the sidewalk (very NW euphemism). As I looked down at my camp shower power output I thought to myself, I used to pee like that, what the hell happened? At Chinese New Year dinner last week, we're sitting around the table with Betty's uncles (getting wasted on some fine Single Malt) and there was a good 5-10 minute stretch where we were comparing notes as to how many times we wake up and have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Add to that, this week I had another bout of diverticulits (look it up if you dare, it's gross). It seems hardly a week goes by without hearing about a friend that has some bizarre disease (or worse) or that their kids are applying to/graduating from college (or worse). I can recall the days when it seemed like there was a friends wedding every other month, and out of nowhere, I have turned into my dad, complete with sagging earlobes. Fuck.
One thing that was able to cheer me up in a nostalgic kinda way is that I've been consciously thinking about lately is music. I got one of the mega memory iPods last Fall, the kind that holds 30,000 songs, and have dumped every note of music I have onto it. It is awesome...anything I want to hear in the palm of my hand and by hitting shuffle all songs, stuff pops up that I hadn't heard in ages or from an album that I bought and only liked a couple tracks, but in the shuffle format, come to newly appreciate. This week, spent some time creating a playlist...needed one to play in the car/home with the family around that was sufficiently groovy for me, but leaves out the abrasive stuff that everyone else hates. To do so, you have to go through the library, sampling things here and there to make sure they fit the mood. What I have always felt, but was overwhelming as I sifted through the background music of my life, was how a song can evoke such vivid memories of people, places or times in life. Most are wonderful, a few are sad, some just are, with a few kinky ones in there for good measure. I have over 10k songs in my player and was overwhelmed with these rememberances. Smells will do that too, and foods can evoke a memory from time to time, but something about music does it big time for me. When the memory loss starts to settle in, and judging from some of the other recent events mentioned above, that could be pretty soon, am hoping that these little flashbacks are so ingrained in the neural network that my minds photo album is worth reviewing. As these thoughts are running through my mind, I'm listening to the Adam Carolla podcast on Tuesday and he goes on a jag about the Michael Martin Murphy classic Wildfire. Has to be close to 40 years since I heard it, and was immediately transported to the Mayfield carpool in 1975. I was about 10ish, and one of the girls in the carpool, Lisa Jeffries, who was in high school at the time, used to ride horses. Some days she'd get in the car wearing her jodhpurs and riding boots. That look was a slight underdog to win the Oscar in the Classic Hotness category, but edged out Catholic School Girl uniform in a minor upset (the rest of the nominees were Nerdy/Hot Librarian, 6-foot Asian Nurse, and Mary Kay Letourneau). Wildfire was super popular on the AM dial at the time and I always associated her in that outfit whenever it came on. When Carolla played it the other day...I could see her galloping down to the car like it was yesterday. Giddy-up
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Week of February 7th, 2014
Not sure what today (Friday, February 7th) is in the whole New Year calendar of events, but they are currently blowing bricks of fireworks off in front of our apartment. I told the kids the old joke that goes, "If your brains were dynamite, you couldn't blow your nose", and they were stumped by it saying that it didn't make sense as you "blow-up" dynamite. We went a few laps about how funny that gag is versus how dumb they thought it was. They even asked their friends at school if it made sense to them and they all said no. Seriously, I fear for the youth of today.
At least they shot off the fireworks today at 9:30am...last Monday morning, which was a work/school holiday for nearly everybody, the neighborhood store thought it necessary to let off a couple thousand firecrackers at gawdamn 6AM. Such buttholes. That said, the day of the Seahawk/Niner NFC Championship game, which was a 5:30am kickoff on a Sunday morning, about 20 of us gathered at our friend's Mexican restaurant to eat breakfast burritos, drink beer and cheer on the Seahawks. A great game it was and we were in full throat, enough so that the neighbors called the cops on us. While we were proud (and drunk) that we had 5-0 called, it was a bit inconsiderate/douchey of us too.
As for the Hawks...one of the most interesting teams and great runs ever? In my experience, for sure. Preseason favorites rarely live up to expectations. The cast of characters was across the board but meshed into this lovable highly functional dysfunctional family. Adversity, injuries, comeback wins, a regional arch rival...all in a city that has been beaten down by crappy teams, national dismissal and hadn't tasted communal joy on this level since 1979. We watched the parade on Wednesday when 750,000 people came out to throw Skittles at the duck boats carrying the team, and not have one arrest. While the family felt some regret not being there to explode with the city, we have all been buzzing for days. I love you Seattle.
So it's been all about the football for the last few days and haven't really noticed much else about what's goin' on around here, other than looking at all these Taiwanese and not understanding why they aren't freaking out too. I will share a funny (non-football) thing that happened this week, and that was Paul asking me to help him shave. He's been sprouting a tiny baby moustache, but thought it wasn't ready to go yet. What I hadn't noticed was him sprouting a patch of long hairs off of his chin and he wanted them gone as they were bugging him. I'm a little prejudiced...okay, a lot prejudiced...but as a hairy man, have been hoping that he will be able to grow a real beard/have non-scraggly body hair/be a real man, and not get cursed with Asian hairlessness. I was able to grow a full beard at 16, able to buy booze at a tender young age, and the chicks (some, the right ones of course) dig it. In my salad days, whenever I had the facial hair going, I used to get more pussy than a North Korean butcher. However, it is also a curse, having 5 o'clock shadow at 10AM, copious amounts of back, nose, ear hair, basically appearing to be less evolved. Guess it is just a basic animal desire to have ones spawn resemble oneself. Early signs for Paul had been positive...the aforementioned tiny baby mustache, bushy leg hair, etc., but this Sensei Master Pai Mei (from Kill Bill) sprouting has me worried.
At least they shot off the fireworks today at 9:30am...last Monday morning, which was a work/school holiday for nearly everybody, the neighborhood store thought it necessary to let off a couple thousand firecrackers at gawdamn 6AM. Such buttholes. That said, the day of the Seahawk/Niner NFC Championship game, which was a 5:30am kickoff on a Sunday morning, about 20 of us gathered at our friend's Mexican restaurant to eat breakfast burritos, drink beer and cheer on the Seahawks. A great game it was and we were in full throat, enough so that the neighbors called the cops on us. While we were proud (and drunk) that we had 5-0 called, it was a bit inconsiderate/douchey of us too.
As for the Hawks...one of the most interesting teams and great runs ever? In my experience, for sure. Preseason favorites rarely live up to expectations. The cast of characters was across the board but meshed into this lovable highly functional dysfunctional family. Adversity, injuries, comeback wins, a regional arch rival...all in a city that has been beaten down by crappy teams, national dismissal and hadn't tasted communal joy on this level since 1979. We watched the parade on Wednesday when 750,000 people came out to throw Skittles at the duck boats carrying the team, and not have one arrest. While the family felt some regret not being there to explode with the city, we have all been buzzing for days. I love you Seattle.
So it's been all about the football for the last few days and haven't really noticed much else about what's goin' on around here, other than looking at all these Taiwanese and not understanding why they aren't freaking out too. I will share a funny (non-football) thing that happened this week, and that was Paul asking me to help him shave. He's been sprouting a tiny baby moustache, but thought it wasn't ready to go yet. What I hadn't noticed was him sprouting a patch of long hairs off of his chin and he wanted them gone as they were bugging him. I'm a little prejudiced...okay, a lot prejudiced...but as a hairy man, have been hoping that he will be able to grow a real beard/have non-scraggly body hair/be a real man, and not get cursed with Asian hairlessness. I was able to grow a full beard at 16, able to buy booze at a tender young age, and the chicks (some, the right ones of course) dig it. In my salad days, whenever I had the facial hair going, I used to get more pussy than a North Korean butcher. However, it is also a curse, having 5 o'clock shadow at 10AM, copious amounts of back, nose, ear hair, basically appearing to be less evolved. Guess it is just a basic animal desire to have ones spawn resemble oneself. Early signs for Paul had been positive...the aforementioned tiny baby mustache, bushy leg hair, etc., but this Sensei Master Pai Mei (from Kill Bill) sprouting has me worried.
Anyway, with a little shaving cream and a couple of gently passes with the Gillette Ultra, we tiptoed across a threshold into manhood.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Week of January 31st, 2014
If you hadn't heard, Chinese New Year fell on January 31st this year. I won't rehash last years treatise on the twisted mechanics of CNY, but will say that it is the Year of the Horse in the year 4649. Or 4710...or 4711...or 104, depending on which one of their bizarre pagan rituals you care to follow. With all of these calendars and how the dates of things change every year, how they get it straight and keep the buses running on time does help explain their alleged superiority in math.
This year, I am the room parent for Carolyn's 5th grade class. When I was contemplating volunteering, Betty convinced me by saying that this would be the last chance I'd have to do something like this, which was pretty sage advise. There is not a lot to do as the kids are old enough to stage their own events, but my job is to ensure that the three yearly parties are organized with the parents properly...one of which was the Chinese New Year party. We split the 8 classes into 2 groups, and each of those 4 classes in our group chose and activity (either a game or craft) and we rotated the 4 classes through each before we got back together to eat. They wanted me to do a craft in our class, but as I am the only male room parent, and after explaining to them that I was far more gamey than crafty, they allowed me to do a game.
Side note, one of the biggest drawbacks of living somewhere where they do not speak your native tongue is that jokes, the turn of a phrase, even basic sarcasm is totally lost in translation. I thought the crafty/gamey thing was relatively clever on the fly, and the other Western room parent laughed, but the look from all the Chinese moms of "what the fuck are you talking about" is one that I see far too often.
We came up with a game where we split the boys and girls into two teams, had each group chose a team leader and then each classmate would pick a Chinese zodiac animal from a hat. The team leader would then have to place the animals in their correct zodialogical order based on the Chinese tradition. The trick was the kids couldn't use words or sounds and had to act out their animals much like in charades. I had never learned about why the "year of" animals are in the order that they are, but learned about it...a short version can be found here. Did you know that a cat was in the mix but was outsmarted by the rat, which became the reason for the cats animosity towards them?
Probably shouldn't have been, but was surprised that all of the kids knew the story and order...even Carolyn. Not sure if I approve of her learning about all this black magic stuff at school, but there you go. We played the game with each class a couple of times using variations, and very unsurprisingly, the girls teams one every time. Certainly in the 5th grade, girls are far more cooperative and aren't the squirrely little shit know-it-alls the boys are at that age.
Afterwards, we had a little pot luck in class that seemed to go well. Was a bit nervous as most pot lucks I've been asked to organize have been that you smoke a lot of pot and are lucky if you get anything to eat, but everyone seemed to survive it. And I juggled as entertainment.
This year, I am the room parent for Carolyn's 5th grade class. When I was contemplating volunteering, Betty convinced me by saying that this would be the last chance I'd have to do something like this, which was pretty sage advise. There is not a lot to do as the kids are old enough to stage their own events, but my job is to ensure that the three yearly parties are organized with the parents properly...one of which was the Chinese New Year party. We split the 8 classes into 2 groups, and each of those 4 classes in our group chose and activity (either a game or craft) and we rotated the 4 classes through each before we got back together to eat. They wanted me to do a craft in our class, but as I am the only male room parent, and after explaining to them that I was far more gamey than crafty, they allowed me to do a game.
Side note, one of the biggest drawbacks of living somewhere where they do not speak your native tongue is that jokes, the turn of a phrase, even basic sarcasm is totally lost in translation. I thought the crafty/gamey thing was relatively clever on the fly, and the other Western room parent laughed, but the look from all the Chinese moms of "what the fuck are you talking about" is one that I see far too often.
We came up with a game where we split the boys and girls into two teams, had each group chose a team leader and then each classmate would pick a Chinese zodiac animal from a hat. The team leader would then have to place the animals in their correct zodialogical order based on the Chinese tradition. The trick was the kids couldn't use words or sounds and had to act out their animals much like in charades. I had never learned about why the "year of" animals are in the order that they are, but learned about it...a short version can be found here. Did you know that a cat was in the mix but was outsmarted by the rat, which became the reason for the cats animosity towards them?
Probably shouldn't have been, but was surprised that all of the kids knew the story and order...even Carolyn. Not sure if I approve of her learning about all this black magic stuff at school, but there you go. We played the game with each class a couple of times using variations, and very unsurprisingly, the girls teams one every time. Certainly in the 5th grade, girls are far more cooperative and aren't the squirrely little shit know-it-alls the boys are at that age.
As I was watching the girls dissect the boys at these cooperation games, got me thinking about them and wondering at what point do they start to turn on each other. A generalization of course, but females are known for catty, backstabbing, mean girlness in their teens. As I am thinking about this, someone posted this essay by Andy Rooney on women over 40 and a part of it talks about how, "A woman over forty has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women. Women over forty couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her." Andy Rooney didn't really write this, but it has been around the Internet block many times and think there is something to it. So what happens to these women between 13 and 40?.
A little while back, Carolyn's grade had their "Health Week"...or as she referred to it, the Puberty Unit (tell me Puberty Unit isn't a fantastic name for a band). Was hesitant to ask for details and Carolyn didn't offer many other than how awkward it was to have the class with the boys. Betty was trying to tell me that I should start talking to her about periods and feminine napkins and I said, "you have got to be kidding, right?" I think we can all agree that the tendency towards being a mean girl (see Urban Dictionary definition here) coincides with the advent and denouement of the menstrual cycle, but the question as a man involved with the raising of a young lady is, how to guide them mentally to avoid this ugliness when it seems driven by parts other than the brain? There needs to be a book, or at least a snarky web based tutorial, on this.
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