The bruiser

My sister has three kids. These kids don't really hang out with their father's side of the family, so we are all they know. They drive me crazy. As soon as the eldest girl turned 2, she figured out the speed dial, and thought it would be great to call me. It was not. At least now she is 7.5 years of age so I can have a somewhat normal conversation with her. Unfortunately, the youngest is 2 and the cycle of unintelligible phone calls started yet again.

As so many things in life, the raising of children has changed. When I was little, we got threatened a lot (my Dad would give a menacing tap with a rolled up newspaper), and my Mom was quite liberal with the spanking. "Because I said so" was a valid reason to listen to what my parents told us to do. Even back then, I thought I was getting it easy because after spending time with my grandparents, I realized my parents were pushovers in comparison.

I have been thinking about this subject for a while now, ever since that Tiger mother thing came out. You don't want to be a Tiger mom is fine, but calling someone terrible names because they choose to be one is acceptable? You don't want to spoil your kids, fine but yelling at that parent who does is okay? Parenting styles come in all forms, and no matter what children will both need therapy and have affection from whatever you choose (within reason).

So my preachy rant stems from a recent story. My sister has chosen the let's-reason-with-the-child-and-not-yell-or-spank-the-child-of-parenting. A very different approach from what we grew up with. And the kids seem pretty okay with it, except for driving me nuts with phone calls all the time. In the past week my eldest niece has taken to hitting a girl in her class. As she told me tearfully, "Emo[Aunt], she was really bothering me and not leaving me alone so I had to hit her to make her stay away."

I found all this mildly amusing, as I had spent my fair share of time in the vice principals office.
(Although in my defense I never hit another girl nor did I ever hit anyone who did not hit me/sit on me first.) My sister, on the other hand, has found this whole thing very distressing. First, she could not understand where my niece learned to hit someone as hitting is not allowed in her house. But more distressing were the mothers that were whispering behind her back at the supermarket, and the fact that they all speculated she must hit my niece and that is where she learned the behavior.

I told my sister to chill out, that bougie moms have nothing better to snicker about, but that seemed to have no effect on her. My sister seems to still be upset at those judging her and her poor parenting skills.

When did the pressure to be the perfect parent get so crazy? Why is it a competitive sport? What really is the consequence of not being a perfect parent?

Personally, my dad and I are happy about the incident. Not because my niece is a bully, or that my sister is distressed, but because it broke up a little of the monotony in our lives. Quite frankly, my niece's last phone call about her class room drama was really the most interesting phone call I have ever had with her.

High school is forever

It is a well know fact that the Evil Twins love slurpees. In Evil Twin #2's massive archive of photographs, there are a number of them with us drinking slurpees. We do differ on our flavor selection, she prefers Blue Razz and I normally stick to Coke.

This love of slurpees started at an early age. When I was 5 years old, we lived in a small apartment in Moraga, CA. During this year, my dad was living in London and my mom worked full time. I would stay an hour later at kindergarten with one of the aides, and then my sister and the neighborhood kids would come to pick me up. On bottom of the hill there was a 7/11, that was on our way home, and some days we would stop by to grab some slurpees, or go to the bowling alley to play arcade games. Maybe I am romanticizing it in my head, but it was such an idyllic childhood.

Over the years, I have spent a lot of time in mini mart parking lots, eating junk food, and hanging out with my friends. So I was shocked when I moved to San Diego, and met 2 guys who had 1) never had a slurpee before in their life 2) never hung out in a parking lot at night doing nothing. Even stranger one was from Wisconsin and the other was from Missouri. I mean I can understand if someone from NYC never did these things, but from the Midwest?

On Saturday night, we decided to rectify this fact. I picked up NS, J, and C in my Nissan Versa (They for some reason all drive BMWs which simply is not suitable for this kind of endeavor). I played a bunch of 90s mix CDs. We had the windows down. First stop was the 7 11. We all bought slurpees, and I bought a bag of Cheetos and Funyuns. We sat in the parking lot. The owner came out and gave us a weird look, but decided not to hassle us. (A big bonus to being in my 30s instead of my teens.) At first there was excessive commentary about how all of this artificial coloring and flavors is bad for them. C's wife gave him special permission over text message to eat the Funyuns. No one could argue it was delicious. They started a game of kick the can. We spent time with a running catty commentary about the 7 11 clientele. An hour and a half had passed before we checked out our watches.

We decided to go grab some food, so we went to a local gastropub for some burgers and tater tots. I tried to explain how one time in high school a friend of mine stole a bunch of nips from a plane, and how we used to use those to put in our coke slurpees. They were flabbergasted. J being the only other normal person in the group agreed except they stole liquor from their parents and would water down their parents bottles. The bartender, who was eavesdropping on our conversation, mentioned that she used to make fake MaiTais by mixing Cherry and Pina Colada flavored slurpees with rum. We all reminisced on the stupid stuff we would do, which included driving around the town with no destination in mind. NS,J and C were all drunk at this point and thought it would be so much fun to do that. We all hopped in the Nissan Versa and drove downtown.

The guys kept shouting out the window "Hey ladies, lookin' good." I did my fake drag racing move that I learned from PeiPei, the most fun girl at Columbia. We sang along to Beyonce "Single Ladies." We did a Chinese fire drill. (However this was in a remote street that had no traffic because NS was worried the cops would arrest us. This also might explain why he never had a slurpee before.)

Sure we acted like idiots that night, but some times you got to keep the spirit of the teenage years in your heart.

Tamales

I have lost my desire to wear a Halloween costume this year. Well actually, I was sick sick of seeing 20 something women parading in 4 inch stilettos, flared mini-skirts and and some sort of corset top and passing that off as some sort of costume. Really, a grown woman wearing a tight and short Catholic school uniform is supposed to be sexy and not actually promoting pedophilia?

Sorry, got lost in my rant. I still wanted to honor the holiday and since moving to San Diego, I have been getting in touch of my Mexican roots. I decided to make tamales for el dia de los muertos.

Preparation the day ahead:

I bought some pork back fat at Whole Foods. Washed it and cut it into small slices. Placed it into a 250 F oven for 5 hours. Poured off the fat into mason jars and cooled it in the fridge. That's right folks, I had my own lard for this adventure.

Also, I bought the butcher's special at Whole Foods which is the leftover cuts of meat, mainly bone in shoulder chops. I put it in the crock pot with a head of garlic, salt, and pepper. It went for 5 hours on low. For the sauce, I took some of the pork broth and rehydrated pasilla peppers with some cooked onions, cumin, and jalapenos.

All of the stuff went in the fridge overnight.

El dia de los Tamales

On Sunday, I woke up early. I did all my usual Sunday business and by 10 am, I was back in my pajamas ready for my cooking adventure. I set up a tamale assembly station on the dining table, which was moved closer to the television. While many an abuelita told me that I need to purchase fresh masa, I realized that tracking down fresh masa for my tamales was excessive. So I purchased the one
available at the MexiMart down the street.

Following the instructions on the bag of corn flour, I mixed all my wet ingredients which was leftover pork broth and water with my dry ingredients of maseca baking powder and salt. On the side, I whipped up my lard, and gently folded it into the batter.

With my batter, rehydrated corn husks, and pork filling, I went into zen mode. I assembled tamal after tamal. Flatten husk. Spread batter with spatula. Spoon in filling. Roll. Fold in sides. Tie it all together. I was a machine: a Korean-American, Mexican-inspired, football watching, pajama wearing, tamales assembling machine.
Here is the conclusion. Purchasing 2 tamales from Don Carlos Taco Shop in La Jolla is $4.56. Making my own costed $28.22 for the supplies, unknown energy costs, 4 hours of total labor with product that tastes like Don Carlos's tamales. So next year to honor the day of the dead, I am marching down to Don Carlos's, purchasing two tamales and a Pacifico with lime and calling it a day. Who knows, I might even wear a sexy pirate costume so I could look pregnant with my tamales filled belly.

A trip to the desert.

Since moving to San Diego, I find myself growing soft. I eat donuts with greater frequency, so my belly is softer. I take constitutionals at night without mace, so my guard is softer. And I got acclimated to the southern California weather, so my temperature core got softer.

For the past 2 weeks now, we have been covered by a marine layer. It has made me cranky and vitamin D deficient. I hated work. I hated the boy and yelled at him on the phone. I found myself feeling sad and watching a lot of Bravo TV.

I called Evil Twin #2. "I want to go to Palm Springs. It is totally impractical." Her reply, "Sounds like a great idea." Sometimes, all you need is approval to let loose. So I packed up my Nissan Versa and headed out for the desert.

Palm Springs is 2.5 hours away. I stopped at a premium outlet mall along the way. I was perplexed by the throngs of European and Chinese tourists carrying suitcases with them going gaga over Tod's driving moccasins, Judith Liber clutches, Jimmy Choo stripper shoes, Zegna ties, and Gucci scarves. I tried shopping for an hour, but then gave up. It was a sunny day 85F with desert sun. I sat with a lemonade and watched people.

My next stop was Palm Desert and Palm Springs. I took a self guided tour of Mid-century modern houses. I have no idea what this term means except I saw a lot of houses with a lot of glass and learned someone named Lautner is awesome. (I will buy a book so I could feel a little less like a country rube.) Then I went into Palm Springs itself. I saw a collection of bakelite jewelry and other costume styles of the 20s. I also drove by 3 dialysis centers. I am not sure if my eyes are just in tuned with them, or there are just a lot of people who need dialysis in Palm Springs. At around of 3:30pm, I was feeling a little peckish. I stopped by one of the italian restaurants (there are a lot in Palm Springs each one claiming to once have served Al Capone) and ate a dinner special. That is right. I ate dinner at 3:30pm in Palm Springs.

After a large meal, I moseyed onto Dessert Hot Springs. This town is in the middle of nowhere. I mean there is the desert and this small town pops up like Brigadoon. My "hotel" was a 7 room yoga retreat place. In the center of the hotel was a pool. At one end was water that came out of the hotspring and was 168 degrees and as you went down the pool the water was cooler. According to the two old lesbians (naturally) who owned the place, the minerals in the water would heal almost every ailment you would have. I laid by the pool, getting in occasionally, as I waited for my treatment. I got a scalp massage, and then was ordered to shower immediately as not to contaminate the pool or the Frette sheets (I still don't know what Frette is, but that is also on my to do list today.) By that time it was late, so I went to for a late night soak. I stared at the stars, drank some champagne I bought at Trader Joe's, and listened to two girls talk about how bitchy their friend was and how awesome LA was. I stayed in the healing waters for 2 hours before going to bed at 9pm.

I awoke at 6 am. I could not believe how trippy the night had been. Before going to bed the old lesbians told me that nothing was more magical than floating in the pool as the sun rose. So I trudged to the pool. I put some cylinder floating things under my feet. I lay there staring at the crescent moon as the sun came up and painted the normally unattractive San Jacinto mountains a perfect shade of persimmon. It was a rather religious experience.

After the sun came up, an old Brazillian couple that were staying in the deluxe room asked me to join them in some morning yoga. Why not. I got some more sun, a little more soaking in the "healing waters." By 9:30am, I was ready to go back to marine layer. I drank a shot of wheat-grass and had some yogurt and was back on the desert highway.

Evil Twin #1 is part of the 99%

When I was a junior, I had to take Contemporary Civilization with Professor Malefakis. Evil Twin #2 and I used to joke around that his name sounded evil. (Mal = Bad) Truth be told, he was an ass. He was the worst kind of bully, as he knew every possible way to get under the skin of his students. He called people names. He made one girl cry. He made one boy want to punch his face. He even tried to weird out Evil Twin #2 by asking her if she wanted a penis, when discussing Freud. Evil Twin #2, having not said more than five words all semester, was caught off guard, which is exactly what this guy wanted.

Every class he would draw a nonsensical diagram of the thought of the day. A switchback funnel was a diagram of political ideologies. Sticks was a Hobbesian view on a society. If you discount my weirdly eidetic memory for lectures, one diagram stood above the rest. It was a bunch of rectangles and the need to get rid of feudalism. The fundamental idea was this: the consolidation of goods under the control of a few makes little room for the exchange of goods, and the lack of movement of people throughout the society.

I think Malefakis and I have a lot in common. I draw terrible pictures and cannot always convey what I am thinking to those around me. My friend, who is against the Occupy movement, has been particularly snarky about it, so I desperately have been trying to explain why I think they have a point. But I might as well be drawing a bunch of rectangles for all she cares. Most statuses on Facebook have been "Occupy my bed" or "Occupy France." However, like Malefakis, I will be oblivious to the naysayers continue to spew my ideas.

Fundamentally, I love the idea of Wall Street. A company or a person with a great idea, product, or service, sells shares of itself. The company gets increased capital and they get to expand and sell their widgets to a broader audience. Fabulous.

Somehow this beautiful thing went off the rails. Only a fraction of the companies listed in the NYSE participate in giving investors dividends. At some point, all stocks became entirely based on its potential to grow. According to Morning Star, a company that is in the red but has the potential to be 4 times bigger in 2 years is worth more than one that will have a steady profit margin of 17% every year. For a company to even stay afloat in the stock market, they have to do something extraordinary every quarter. Stock prices seem to fluctuate more on rumor than fact. Also, this phenomenon meant short term solutions started having a large impact. Google can shift one of its headquarters to Ireland and for those first few quarters profits went up immensely. This increase was not a result of making a better search engine, but finding a loopholes in existing rules.

But what is the true added value for all these things? Does the actuary, who discovers they can move all their jobs to India and save the company 20% truly add value? The new class of CEOs remind me a lot of the corporate raiders of the 80's. Does that add value? According to Wall Street right now, the answer is yes. The bottom line is those changes made the company more profitable for a few quarters. Our excuse is they deserved it for being clever and ruthless. Really? We are now rewarding people for excessive greed and short-sightedness. And that does not create a better environment for innovation, which I propose is the true value we are all seeking.

But let's take a more Machiavellian approach to this problem. Not everyone can be immensely rich, nor is it bad to be immensely rich. No one wants to squash that drive and ambition. By keeping the disparity between wealthy and the rest of the population to a manageable limit, the wealthy can still enjoy their moneys without a bunch of un-showered protesters. Listen, let's aim to be more German than Greek. Just sayin'.

This morning, I went down to Occupy San Diego. The participants looked homeless. They were a lot punk kids talking about how disillusioned they were. They seemed lazy and obnoxious. I brought coffee and donuts, as it was cold and foggy today. They were totally ungrateful. But here is the biggest lesson I learned. Sometimes the biggest assholes, like Malefakis and the protesters, have a point. Wall street sucks right now, and something has to change.

I am Evil Twin #1, and I am part of the 99%.

Adventures in Dating

Dating. Ugh. I have been dreading it, and with good reason. Unlike Evil Twin #1, who has been telling me that it's fun to date and meet all sorts of men, I am not a fan of first dates. So, I decided to ease back into the dating world, reluctantly agreeing to let a friend set me up on a blind date. I had never been on a blind date before and wasn't quite sure what to expect. Given all the warning signs, I should have been prepared for a train wreck, but naively thought it couldn't be so bad (at a minimum, I'd be able to salvage a half-way decent post out of it). I was in no way ready for how sad/crazy this poor guy would be.

Surefire Ways to Blow A First Date:

1. Send your prospective date a crazy 9 paragraph email (opening with "Greetings and salutations" then misspelling my name) about yourself, noting that you went to private schools your whole life [who cares] and you just got out of a 6 year relationship that ended because you gave your ex-girlfriend an ultimatum to get married [umm...].

2. Failing to grammar check said email. Everyone should know when to use "a" versus "an" and proper subject/verb agreement. Also, one looks forward TO something, not IN something. Signing your email, "Looking forward in meeting you" doesn't make any sense. I am a lawyer. I am unforgiving about that stuff.

3. When making plans to meet, just telling your date where and when to meet instead of phrasing things in a way that makes it clear that you are open to modifying the place/time. Personally, I like to be consulted on some level. I don't like people telling me what to do.

4. During the date:

• mentioning (again) why you broke up with your ex;
• describing yourself repeatedly as a "foodie" and trying to impress me with the places you've "discovered" (along with just about everyone else that reads eater.com);
  
• telling me that you bought an apartment in Bronxville for the excellent school system because you can't wait to have kids (this is perhaps better saved for a second or third date); and
  
• sharing that you are barely making your mortgage payments because your company has been cutting back, and you have been forced to take a part time job at Macy's to make ends meet. Then noting that the discount is great!
  

Honestly, if my friend hadn't set this whole thing in motion weeks ago, I would have bailed. Seeing as she took the time to do so, I felt obligated to at least show up, eat a decent meal and work on my conversation skills. I am tempted to give this guy notes on what to do differently going forward -- at the rate he's going, he's likely to scare off every lady he meets. I feel kind of bad for him.

I guess the upside of going on this date is that it made me feel far more sane and emotionally well adjusted in comparison. It also confirmed that I am right and Evil Twin #1 is wrong -- blind dates aren't for everyone.

take your child to work day

Today is the official "Take your child to work day." The labs and office area are teaming with children. They are frightening. I caught myself saying the eff word twice and changed it to fudge just in time. I also have run over two of them today as I was trying to open the door. What can I say except that children frighten me. And the combination of children, caustic chemicals and biological agents scares me even more.

Another Year...

"This year may provide great travel opportunities. Go to places you never thought you'd go. Open your heart to new experiences, new relationships and new interpretations of what abundance is. Discover your own wealth." -- My horoscope for today, AMNewYork

Today is my 35th Birthday. As some of you may know, I love birthdays -- other people's birthdays, not so much my own. This one is especially tough. At 35, I am solidly middle-aged and am recovering from a break up that has truly put me through the proverbial emotional wringer (who knew I had so many tears to shed?). How's that for down in the dumps?

Reading my horoscope on my commute to work this morning reminded me that this year could be my best one yet. Going through each line of my fortune, I realized: (i) I have already traveled a great deal (San Antonio, Boston, Baltimore, the Turks and Caicos Islands, and the Connecticut countryside thus far (not bad for the first 4 months of the year), and Santo Domingo, DR next month); (ii) I had one of my best meals from the parking lot of a strip club (didn't expect that, but yum! pit beef!) in Baltimore; (iii) 2011 will be the year that I finally learn how to swim, so that I complete my first triathlon (that's definitely a new experience!), I am not quite ready to open my heart to new relationships, but I know I'll get there eventually, and over the past few weeks (during which I have been riding an emotional roller coaster), I was reminded that I am very lucky to have an abundance of incredibly supportive and wonderful friends; and (iv) my own wealth resides in what I already have.

So, here's to my 35th year, and to all that lies ahead. Looking forward to seeing what you have in store for me!

An excuse to post an embarrassing photo.

Happy Birthday to me ... a little late. Two weekends ago, I turned 35. A frightening thought to be middle aged, sans a husband, children, pets and a steady income. I am starting to get frown lines, and the other day was wondering if I should look into that Restalin. Am already in an Obagi pact with my sister, so I feel like adding a few more cosmetic procedures.

To cheer me up, Evil Twin #2 came down from NYC. And as always the events were epic. The whole weekend started out so innocent. Two girls getting crab cakes and going to bed at 11pm on a Friday night. Even the next day was fairly wholesome. ET#2 and I, went to the National Gallery of Art to see the Gauguin exhibit. Sure he was really pervy, but it was art right? We had lunch with friends, a trip to the Cowgirl Creamery. We even had a romantic stroll around the Tidal basin to see the Cherry blossoms. Yup. The whole weekend was going to be wholesome and very middle sized city American.

It all started down the dark dangerous path of liquor , when ET#2 and I started talking about feelings. Yes, that is right feelings. And in the midst of feelings, ET#2 said such a strange thing. "Let's go have a beer with your friends at the bar." Strange, because ET#2 is not really a beer drinker. Sure a glass of wine here or there, or maybe a very fancy fruity cocktail, but not so much beer.

So we go to my bar across the street. We get greeted by everyone. Sweet. And we start on our one beer. Well that idea went totally out the window after the first lemon drop shot. It became a flurry of alcohols, and crude stories. I abandoned ET#2 with my gay closeted neighbor, and they were giggling away at stuff. My friend from down the street convinced us to karaoke with him. As you can see why things snowballed. At the karaoke bar, I was passed a number of shots called Leviticus (actually it is called vitytus, but it was a crazy night). Drinking leviticus was best described by the twenty year old barristo I know, "It is like having a million cinnamon hot bears doing a russian folk dance in your head." ET#2 and I proceeded to sing a number of duets and stumble home.

The next morning I remembered why I don't drink to excess. I wanted to poke my eyes out and rip out my stomach. ET#2 played it cool. She had on her shades both indoors and outside, and even managed some lip gloss. We both felt like this guy below except luckily both of us were too hungover to take pictures.

Best news evah

It has often been said (by myself) that I am unruly, odd and loud, due to being the youngest child. My parents were older (close to my age now) when they had me. My sister who is 7 years older, often told stories about her parents, who seemed to not resemble mine at all. Her parents gave her shoulder rides, chased her around the yard, and had weekly zoo trips. Mine were more about Dad's napping because he has lumbego, quiet story time, and golf lessons.

A few years ago, I remember having a serious discussion with my sister. How to take care of our parents as they got older. It was one of those serious moments full of awkward pauses and awkward jokes to alleviate the tension of the moment. My parents' had living wills in place, my sister was planning on building a mother-in-law apartment in her house, and I took over some of my parent's accounts just to make sure nothing too crazy was happening. It was a very adult and somber moment in our lives.

A few years ago, my Dad was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. He had a long history of hypertension and 70 years after birth his kidneys decided they were tired. The physicians told us there was little that could be done. None one in his immediate family was a compatible match and he was a little too old to be on the top of any organ donor list. We were told he had about 5 years. Probably, the hardest hit was my mother. She was registered nurse before she retired and took over my dad's care. But it was exhausting, and she is no spring chicken. My sister and I tried to hire a part time nurse, but they would not have it. The whole thing was spiralling. I even thought about taking a job in California, just to monitor the situation. My sister with three kids of her own, was getting overwhelmed.

I flew home for the Christmas holidays my tradition over the past 21 years. As soon as I walked into my sister's house it was chaos, kids climbing on top of me, my parents asking me about my love life, my brother-in-law asking me about work. I'll admit, I was feeling a little Grinchy. After arriving to California at 11pm, My nieces and nephew woke me up Christmas morning at 5:30am. Yup, this Emo (aunt in korean) was one grumpy grumpster.

My dad was not much better. He also was woken up by jumping children. He could not eat my mom's chocolate b-day cake (too much phosphorus) and most importantly, he had not had a good bowel movement in two days because my youngest niece likes to follow him around and stand outside of the bathroom door saying "uh oh."

Anyway, the next morning my parents left pretty early in the morning. I decided to stay, my present to my sister being watching her kids for a few days. But we got this call about an hour later. "Dad, just got a kidney. We have to fly to Kansas City."

It was like all happy made more TV movies rolled up into one. We bought my parents a ticket to Kansas City, and my brother-in-law (BIL) and I drove up to my parents' house. My parents were all a flutter when we saw them. What were the chances of a 74 year old man getting a six point match for a kidney the day after Christmas? Who knows.

On the way to airport, my dad turned to my BIL and said "twenty years, no problem."

no means no!

An unfinished post from December, but it seems appropriate with the impending AFC championship game coming up.



I went to the bar across the street from my house 5 times last week. 5 times. That is excessive for even me. But somehow that is the way it worked. The bonus of my excessive patronage is getting to go to the Ravens game last night.

Being a frequent flyer at this establishment, means multiple phone calls and texts when there is something shaking in the neighborhood. Saturday night was one of the bartenders going away party. So even though I had been there Thursday night, I made it back for a few beers, and perhaps a shot or two or three which I just seem to be remembering now two day later. But in my slightly inebriated stage, I do remember listening to the owner of the bar (BO) tell how he just got dumped. Hmmmm so who was going to the Ravens' game? Even though it was S's (another frequent flyer's) turn to go with the owner, they all graciously gave me the ticket. Score!

The Pittsburgh Steelers versus the Baltimore Ravens was a much anticipated game. A fight for the division title, and a Sunday night featured game, I was one of 71,000 people pouring into M&T stadium. Pittsburgh and Baltimore have a deep seeded rivalry. Both are blue collar towns with dying industries. Both towns have weird accents. And most importantly, the towns are 3 hours apart; far enough for a rivalry close enough to visit for away games.


The night was cold and clear. I had to borrow a puffy jacket from my neighbor, who was perhaps more excited than I was. BO is a a big guy. He is 6'4 and my guess is he weighs about 250; maybe more. And I was lucky to have him, as he carved a way through the crowds.

BO has season tickets, which means he knows all the people who sit around him. Hmmmm. How do I say this delicately? I can't. Baltimore has a lot of white trash football fans. I mean very trashy. The lady sitting behind us passed out half way into the first quarter. Then her boyfriend had to take her to the men's room to throw up.

I thought I talked like a sailor, but I had nothing on these football fans. I heard enough homosexual derogates, cusses, and inexplicable sexual acts involving animals to last a life time. It also was a sport for all those sitting nearby me to lift me up. I think they found that entertaining. Big bear hugs to the strange Asian girl.

Throughout the game there were many fights. The most impressive being two guys going at it and no spilling a drop of beer. Truly amazing.

As for the game play on the field there was not much to write about. Just like the most recent playoff game, the Ravens were ahead and lost their lead in the second half. They played with no urgency. Every time Big Ben took the field, everyone shouted "No means no!" But sadly in the end, the Ravens got manhandled like a girl in a bathroom with Big Ben's bodyguards watching on.

Further confirmation ET#1 is a middle aged man

I have been balding since college. My ponytail has shrunk. Every night I lament the clump of hair caught by my special hair catcher on my shower drain that I bought so I can count the number of hairs I lose every day. I constantly obsess about my white scalp peeking through. And when I sweep my house, I contemplate super gluing the hairs I find back on my head. My stop gap solution (like any middle aged man) was to grow my hair long and hope that if I wrap my single strand of hair around my head enough times no one would notice.

My mother who was sick of hearing me complain about it, once took me to a Korean herbalist. He told me I had too much yang/heat in my body, and gave me a vile concoction to drink for 2 months. But alas, I am still balding.

My obsession comes with a lot of internet research. A few years ago Matt Lauer turned me onto this device. According to the segment on whatever news show he hosts, this thing was supposed to have okay results. Okay? Well, okay is better than weeping at my shower drain, or having horrible dandruff from the generic female rogaine I tried for 3 months. But here was the catch: $600 price tag. Was my vanity worth $600? Do I buy myself a laser comb before I buy myself a television? What was a girl with OCD to do?

Today as I was purchasing the last of the Christmas gifts for my nieces and nephew, I thought I deserved a bauble of my own. Over the years I had done a lot of internet research and realized that the Hairmax laser comb is just a few red LED lights.

In attempt to be frugal, I searched for other sources of red LED lights. I found a red LED lamp for 20 dollars. Wooohooo! How exciting. Finally, I was going to have luscious locks of hair spilling down my shoulders.

The catch on this endeavour: apparently the lamp I purchased is used to grow more buds on a marijuana plant.

I had images of myself being watched by the FBI a la "the Wire." Maybe they would think a new "player" was in town. Or worse how would I explain to the DEA agents that would breakdown my door, that the supplies I purchased via the internet was to grow hair not pot? I'll tell you all in 1-2 weeks when my lamp is delivered.

Why I love working with foreigners

In the world of science, I am an anomaly. Okay maybe that is not entirely true. I am Asian so physically I blend in really well. But here is how I manage to stick out: I was born in the United States, educated in the United States, and got my Ph.D. in the United States. Oh and English is my first and only language, a rarity in my workplace.

Subjects Americans find taboo are not in other countries, and they are horrified what we manage to say. Sometimes you get fascinating things told to you like today.

Indian Postdoc: So now that if they let the gay people in the military, will they have to create 4 separate bathrooms?

Evil Twin #1: What?

IP: Don't you have separate bathrooms in this country because of sexual modesty?

ET#1: Ummm no. I think it is because men are gross.

IP: Men are gross? no no no no no no. My wife tells me she cannot even go to the bathroom on this floor because it is sooo disgusting. And it is all women, right?

ET#1: Oh she is right, this bathroom is disgusting. But if men were allowed in it would be even worse.

IP: What do you mean? All my friends who are men have very clean bathrooms. Come to my house and you will see how clean our bathroom is. Men's public bathrooms are dirty because men urinate standing. But at home we sit down.

ET#1: huh? What? Most men I know urinate standing up. I know my dad does.

IP: Why would you do that? At home the seat is clean, and you do not have to touch your penis unnecessarily. When you stand up it is so unsanitary. Urine can splash everywhere. When we have male friends spending time at our house, I explain the sitting down, and everyone does it.

The conversation continued for a little bit, but I was blown away at the astute logic. Now I just wonder how many men would follow it....

Another one bites the dust

You get to a certain age, when dating escapades are no longer funny. I think I am at that age. I stopped telling friends and family when I am seeing a new boy because I don't want to tell or explain to them about the inevitable fall out.

So it was unusual when I told every one about the new boy. I had a nice feeling about him. Sure he owns several guns, he hunts, he has cats that I am high allergic too, it took him 6 years to get a communications degree at a liberal arts college I never heard of, he only owns the 5th best bar (ie 2nd tier) in Baltimore according to the Sun, and he smokes a shit ton of weed to clean his house. But besides all of his flaws, I genuinely liked him. He was sweet and brought me dinner because he knew I was always hungry. He called/texted me every night I did not see him, just to say good night. He remembered my love of ye olde people and drove me out to Harpers Ferry to see them. And when he gave me a hug, I did not object nor did I attempt to squirm away. Yup the boy made me all giggles and that is probably a sure tell tale sign that it would crash and burn.

On Saturday, he saw me run my section of the Baltimore Marathon relay. Then we went for a bike ride around Baltimore. We ate epanadas and split 6 of them evenly, 4 for me 2 for him. We saw some swing dancers on the Pier so we joined them for a few songs. We rode up to a Russian festival, and watched all the Russians with fascination. We rode to a helicopter pad (clearly his thing not mine) and watched a bunch of boughie people fly into Baltimore and get into limos. It was pretty fantastic. We went to go get beers, and a little pregaming before the Giants vs. Phillies game.

Here is where the bad news come in:
"Ummm Evil Twin #1, I am going to Key West on Wednesday."

"Oh really. Awesome. You are going to have the best time as long as you don't get stuck in a hurricane."

"I going with this girl I dated right before you. [long dating story but that can be summarized by he never broke up with this girl even though he thinks he did] Anyway we had planned this trip before I even met you. I just wanted to be honest with you because I did not think things would be going so well between the two of us. I mean you are great. [more long dragged on crap about why he might have some problems]"

"Excuse me [I say to the bartender], I am going to need a few shots of whiskey here. Neat and as fast as you can."

After this point much of the night was a blur. Apparently, according to my fave bartender I got belligerent, told every one in the bar that the new boy was going to Key West with another girl, and then proceeded to yell at the TV because I had no idea who Cody Ross was. I, also, allegedly told the boy that I could go home with anyone at the bar and how would he feel about that. Clearly, once again not my finest hour. But if you were going to out you should go out swinging.

On Sunday, I woke up with a massive hangover and ended up going to work, mass, and pumpkin carving with a bunch of inner city youths as a sort of punishment.

He texted me to see if I was alright:

NB: How are you feeling today? You were quite the handful last night.

Me: I had a productive day. Thank you for asking.

I talked to the other wiser Evil Twin, and she convinced me to talk to him while I was sober.

That was a disastrous 1 hour conversation. Let me disseminate the highlights:

He says that I am unreasonable to think he would even consider canceling this trip because plans were made before I met him. What is the big deal about him going, because he was not planning on sleeping with this girl. Why did I lie (on Saturday) about lining up a bunch of dates with better looking guys when he is gone? He should get bonus points for being honest with me because he could have easily lied about the trip. He will call me when he gets back from Florida, because hopefully by then I will be more rational.

I tell him, he is an ass. How does he not realize that this woman think that this is a romantic getaway? Being honest is the minimum you can do for someone not something for a bonus prize. I tell him thanks for exposing me to my biggest insecurity about being cheated on, I much appreciate that. Oh and have a great trip and I am saying this not because I mean it but because there is nothing left to say.

Back to the drawing board for this Evil Twin. Back to the dating and not telling anyone about it, because really it just is not funny anymore.

Naming contest

I'm not sure if anyone reads this blog anymore. I hope so. I need your help. In night of debauchery, I met a boy and he needs a name. Let's skip all the gruesome deatils of a drunken hook-up which led to an awkward morning, which led to some odd texting, which led to a nice walk, which led to a fancy 5 course meal (he made), which led to planning a future date, all in a span of less than 72 hours.

Here is the most important point: what shall I name him? In the past, every boy I have liked has had a CB handle. For example, the astrophysicist (or out of this world), Ozzy fan, the leprechuan, the leader of the pack, the roton, erkel .... How will I disparage this boy in a week, when I start to dislike him?

Rules for naming boys usually get at their deepest insecurieties. Being an Evil Twin, normally, it is quite easy to suss this out. However, I am a little stumped this week. I don't really know much about him but here is what I do know:

Profession - DJ/photographer/bartender
Ethnicity - half-chinese half irish
Overall apearance - nothing remarkable neither cute, nor fat, nor skinny nor tall, nor bald, etc..
Personality - I'm guessing he currently does or at least did smoke a lot of pot. He also, seems to have a lot of artist friends.
Pets - three cats
Ominous fact - he lives across the street from me

We prefer names that are funny, when possible, and mean as a fall back. Winner to get a special Baltimorean prize.

Evil Twin #1 enters Ace Hardware.

Sales Clerk: Can I help you find something today, Ma'am?

ET#1: Yes, I am looking for small pruning shears.

Sales Clerk: Right this way. [He points to a number of shears] What exactly are you trimming? Is it woody or is it green stems?

ET#1: Green. It's a tomato plant.

Sales Clerk: Then just use scissors.

ET#1: I don't own those either.

Sales Clerk: Hmmm. Our scissor collection is pretty laughable but I think a pair of meat shears is pretty all purpose. How about these? How big are the stems?

[ET#1 makes and "o" with her thumb and index finger.]

Sales Clerk: Are you sure you have a tomato plant? That sounds more like cannibis to me?

ET#1: Really? I have yet to have a single tomato this season. My neighbor told me that was because it was too hot this summer. Do the two plant look a lot alike? Do you think Seed Savers would have sent me the wrong seeds?

Sales Clerk: Yeah. They look a lot a like, but I'm sure you have the right plant. Worst comes to worst you can always start a side business. haha.

ET#1 gives a disapproving look. She buys one pair of meat shears and hurries home to wiki cannibis.

Things to avoid late at night

1) Internet shopping. Otherwise you can be the proud owner of 6 X 1 lb bags of gourmet heirloom beans (even though you don't cook), a meditation bracelet, an assorment of japanese beauty products (the most odd being something called UV cut sleeves. sleeves to wear to prevent your arms from tanning when you drive), tickets to see Lillith Fair on a weeknight, a dress that make you look like an Air France stewardess, and 8 paperbacks from your Amazon suggested reading list.

2) Texting, calling, emailing, or smoke signals of any kind. You can be perfectly sober, but the late hour will alarm every one who will assume you are wasted.

3) Talking to your plants. Perhaps you will get caught by one your neighbors who is trying to calm a fussy baby, and forever get weird looks from him.

4) Watching television on Youtube. TV shows on Youtube are divided into 10 minute segments so constantly need to click on the next scene. I am sure there is a way around this, but perhaps with all your advanced degrees, common technologies befuddle you.

5) Cooking. It is possible that everytime you cook, you set off your smoke detector, which in turn wakes up your neighbor that has a newborn.

6) Going for a walk. Say for example, you live in Baltimore, and you discover that there are a lot of shady dealings going on late at night. And you see a guy flashing his girlfriend's butt to the whole street. Then he signals to you, and you have no idea how to respond but to wave hello.

TV without a television review

How is it possible to fritter one's life away on TV programs without owning a television set? It is kind of easy. My poor computer is completely overloaded every day by hours of streaming video. I worship on the altar of Hulu for providing me my shows. And yay for Hulu because you can watch it without actively fiddling with the computer. CBS, CWTV and TNT really suck in comparison, although strangely Lifetime.com is pretty good.

Another quirk about my television addiction is that I love horrible horrible horrible programming. This love translates into watching a lot more "alternative programming" provided in the summer and winter and less content during the normal season. Case in point: I am currently watching a lot of shows on the USA network, which are not good enough to compete either on a major network, nor during the normal season.

So here is a list of shows to be watching off season in order of my "enjoyability" factor:

Justified (FX/Hulu.com) - The 13 show season has already ended, but it was great. Think of Walker, Texas Ranger but with a much cuter lead actor. Everyone speaks in slow soft drawls, both calming and scary all at once. A must see!

Leverage (TNT/tnt.tv) - Heist movies are the best. Heist television shows comes to a close second. Every week this team of misfit Robin Hoods pull off the impossible. Think the A-team minus the guns.

Drop Dead Diva (Lifetime/Lifetime.com) - Okay. I can't believe I am watching this show, and even worse, liking it. Aspiring model dies and is reincarnated into an overworked lawyer with Margaret Cho as her assistant. Think Heaven Can Wait and the Mary Tyler Moore Show with a chubby lead actress.

Burn Notice(USA/Hulu.com) - I sort of find all USA shows sort of interchangeable. Wisecracking, a little bit of action and Gabrielle Anwar rocking a bikini like no forty something should. Think Mission Impossible minus the government and a more violent version of Peter Graves.

So You Think You Can Dance (Fox/Hulu.com) - This would be ranked much higher if Alex Wong did not get eliminated so early on and if Mary was still judging. Think American Idol but less bitchy and more talented.

White Collar (USA/Hulu.com) - Matt Bomer. Am not sure what the show is about, except to look lovingly into the eyes of Matt Bomer and imagine our beautiful mix raced babies. Think Matt Bomer in incredibly well tailored suits.

Honorable mention goes to Minute to win it (NBC/Hulu.com) as long as you can scroll over all the human interest parts and just watch the challenges. Honorable mention also goes to Memphis Beat (TNT/tnt.tv) with Jason Lee being a little overly quirky, am not sure if it will get stale quickly.

Disappointments have been a plenty this off season. Eureka (Syfy/Hulu.com) is no longer funny because there seems to be a loss of the science puns, and Psych (USA/Hulu.com), which has dialed down the wisecracking. Top Chef (Bravo/illegal torrents) has been lackluster as well.

So beat the heat, and be a pasty nerd clinging to your macbook pro like me!

Just the facts

Last weekend, Evil Twin #2 and A came to visit me in Baltimore. Here is a summary of our weekend.

Food/drink consumed:
- Pit beef and pit ham sandwiches and sides.
- Beer.
- French pastries.
- Crab cakes, raw oysters, chicken wings, and soda
- cookies.
- hush puppies, beer and el Jimador.
- MD steamed jumbo crabs and steamed corn.
- melon popsicles, peaches, blueberries, and mayo tomato sandwich.
- deep fried oyster mushrooms with cheese hot sauce and mesclun, apricots, meat on a stick, thai tea.
- green papaya salad, fresh rolls, and valicious pork.
- beer.

Sites visited:
- Illusions
- The Cop Shop
- Enoch Pratt Public Library
- Baltimore Cathedral
- Lexington Market
- Edgar Allen Poe's grave
- Annapolis
- 5 general stores
- Baltimore Farmer's Market
- Wegman's

Number of times ET#2 was asked to go to the stage as part of a magic act: 1
Number of Bear traps on that magic stage: 5

Number of borderline/closeted men we met: 2

Number of crab themed children's shirts purchased by A and ET#2: 5

Most awkward moment: Three of us eating french pastries while browsing through the guns and other police items sold at the cop shop

Most phallic thing purchased: pink pepper spray

Most missed item: CD with John Hodgeman saying "CRABS!'

Least delicious item tasted: el Jimador

Thanks, ladies for a fabulous weekend.



Addendum
I drove out to see B, in Frederick, on Monday.
Food consumed: 1 large hawaian pizza loaded with local pork products. beer.
times we laughed about something nonsensical: 4
Times I got lost in the dark: 2

My mother is a covert operative

Russian spies, you ain't got nothing on my momma.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mother. She had a nice July 4th. My parents went to go hang out with my sister's family, it was my niece's birthday. My niece is cute. My niece still wants to be a scientist like me. Wouldn't it be nice if she could visit my children? She and Dad were tired from their trip, so they missed the 4th of July celebration. Morgan Hill had a parade for the 4th. Wasn't it nice to live in a small town like Morgan Hill? She wished she could have seen the parade. She did laundry instead. My Dad was outside. Did I want to talk to him? Oh he is busy. They are going golfing tomorrow morning. She just did laundry but has to do more. Golfing everyday produces a lot of dirty clothes. Maybe they will visit the Lao's for dinner tomorrow.

Twenty minutes into our conversation, I was lulled into a constant stream of "uh huh's" and "oh really's." I had a nice 4th of July. Yes, I really did teach a bunch of 5-8 year olds to light matches. Then I asked her a pretty routine question, "How much do I owe you all for gas this month?" My parents had given me their gas card when I moved to Baltimore. My dad, long retired, gets an employee discount from Exxon, but recently all the Exxon station in Northern California shut down. They said someone need to be using this discount, so it was my job to take it. Every month, I send them a check, and every month it never gets cashed.

But routine was broken a little this day. "Evil Twin#1, you work too much. You've been using less gas, and you fill on Eastern Ave. too much. I know that is convenient for you because it is close to lab. You are young, you need to go out more."

"Huh?" I said. But she remembers Eastern Ave. when she came to Baltimore. Did I remember the time we first saw the lab together. Wasn't it funny when Dad did not recognize the drug deal? Maybe they will come and visit again. Dad cannot eat crabs because they are too salty. She likes Dungeness crabs more than Blue crabs. Korean people though like to pickle blue crabs.

Sure she is in her seventies, but she still has some mad skills with the tracking and the distracting. Maybe Putin can hire her. I heard he has some openings in the KGB.