Dim Sum Diaries

I've got a great blog entry in the works...

but my hand still hurts. So in the meanwhile, check out Nude Man Carrot. It brings a whole new meaning to the term "man root"!

*Insert evil laugh here*

Update On Newly Acquired Ballet Obsession:

I decided to bid for the ballet lessons at the online auction. I rather felt like Gollum...I had my eyes glued to the remaining 40 minutes of the auction to make sure no lying, treacherous hobbitses stole away my lessons...and I won that MO FO! Yay!

It would be three months worth of tuition at half the price, plus helping out Public Radio. The great benefits are that I finally get some exercise and now I have something interesting to write about on my blog. You know how some people blog/report about growing mold on their feet or maybe putting smelly meat in various places. Well, I'm not so bold. So I'll blog about a 31 year old who is trying to relive her childhood dream of being a ballerina (I still gots the moves! maybe). I am somewhat out of shape, so we'll see how a weekly 1.5 hours of vigorously doing plies and arabesques after a full workday for 3 months pans out.
I went to work today despite the fact my hand is still in pain. Everyone kept telling me, "What the hell are you doing here? Go home gimpy!" (They meant that out of love, of course)

So here I am at home. I have just taken my pain meds and all is at peace with the world. I should be in bed but I'm playing around on the computer. I was browsing through my local public radio station website and discovered they are having an online auction to raise money for programming. One of the items is ballet lessons at the local ballet school. That sounds like an awesome way to work out and lose weight. I call the school to sign up.

"I'm interested in the adult ballet class," I tell the lady who answers the phone.

"What is your ballet experience?" she asks me.

"Oh I took classes when I was younger," I reply.

"How long ago was that?"

"Uh...20 years...but I remember all the moves and grooves!" I say a little defensively.

"Why don't you try the Adult A class...are you still very flexible and limber?"

"Not really," I answer.

"You'd definitely want the A class. Don't worry there are adults of all ages in that class," she said, answering my unspoken question of whether I'd be the oldest fart (at 31) in the room.

So we'll see how it goes next Wednesday. In the meantime, I have an excuse to go shopping for some kick-ass dancewear...
These guys truly are the Lords Of The Dance (of the Radishes)! I was laughing so hard I fell over...

(thanks to Ernie for the link)

Can't type too much today but I thought I'd share this video. Who would be best at debating Prez Bush about the latest issues? Why it would be Gov. Bush of Texas!
Well I just got back from Urgent Care. I was cooking dinner...boiling corn...and when I tried to carry the pot to the sink the hot water spilled and I burned both hands, My index fingers and the side of my hands got 2nd degree burns. My right hand got most of the damage and now it is bandaged like I am perpetually pointing at something. I guess I should be grateful that my middle finger got away unscathed...

Why You Should Never Draw Anime Figures In Psych Class...

A Typical Day at University, Back In The Day

One day in class, Vince (the professor, head of the Anthropology Department and my mentor) instructed us to draw a picture of ourselves.

I thought nothing of the request at the time. Since I was into Macross (a Japanese animated series), I sketched a head and shoulder self-portrait (a la anime) and turned it in. I thought I had done a rather decent job of it.

A couple of weeks later, we were in class and Vince pulled out everyone's drawings.

"I have analyzed these drawings. I also had the school psychologist look them over. We drew some interesting conclusions about you people," he declared ominously.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. When Vince pulled my drawing from the pile, he shifted his gaze over to me.

"Mir, Mir, Mir..." He paused dramatically.

"Vince, I just want you to know that the way I drew the picture is how the Japanese draw people...and..." I began.

"Shhh!" He cut me off abruptly. "Let's see, the fact that your head takes up the entire page and your rather large eyes gaze straight ahead indicates that your intelligence is important to you," he stated.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"The small mouth you drew indicates sexual repression. The simple line drawn for the nose centerconfirms this. The smaller the nose, the more sexually repressed you are," he commented.

"But...but...that's how the Japanese draw..." I sputtered.

He continued talking as if he hadn't heard me. "You outlined your hair and then filled it in with short, abrupt strokes. Your keeping within the lines indicates that you observe the limits of propriety, but there is some restlessness in you wanting to break out."

I was speechless. To have my personality analyzed in public like that was embarrassing. But then again, Vince did the same forthright analysis on everyone else in class (some were even more embarrassed then I was).

"By the way, why are your bangs all spiky and sticking up in different directions? You wouldn't be able to achieve that hairstyle in real life you know. Unless gravity ceased to exist," he added as an afterthought.

"Uh, thanks Vince," I managed.
I got reviewed and they gave it a 4.5 stars (out of 5)! I'm so happy. They had some really nice things to say about DSD, so I'll be walking around jauntily all day.

Thanks to The Weblog Review for their kind words. :)

I have been reading Helen Thomas's "Thanks for the Memories, Mr. President: Wit and Wisdom from the Front Row at the White House" and its a pretty great read. She has served as the White House bureau chief for UPI since President Kennedy. She retired in May 2000 but she shares her most interesting moments from each presidency.

From the book:

Press briefing with Dee Dee Meyers, October 22,1993

Helen: Do you know the general topic for tomorrow's radio address?
Meyers: Tomorrow's radio address will be on crime.
Helen: Pro or con?
Meyers: The president's weighing his options on that.

* * *

Les Aspin, a former Indiana congressman and Clinton's first Defense Secretary, had us all wondering when he was discussing the Pentagon budget before Congress early in the administration:

"It's not just a defense budget by subtraction. A lot of things will be cut, but other things will be increased. There will be a series of increases and decreases. The net result of the increases and decreases will be a net cut, but it certainly is not going to be as big as the gross cut from adding up the cuts."

Unrelated to the book, I've always admired Clinton's self-deprecating sense of humor, which is classically illustrated in the "Clinton's Final Days" video shown at the 2000 White House Correspondents Dinner. Pretty damn funny stuff.
"I wrote about you again today," I whisper into the phone.

There is a shocked silence on the other end. Am I a stalker? Hardly. The person I am talking to is Hubby. He has been the subject of many a blog entry lately and I take great delight in telling him that I wrote about him on a particular day. He is all scared that I may be detailing all of his secrets to the entire world. I like to keep him guessing.

So once a year, when spring is in the air and the flowers are in bloom, Hubby's thoughts turn to love (usually around Valentine's Day). Some long-buried male instinct surfaces and he takes it upon himself to plan a romantic event, usually with spectacular results. Last year we went to see the Vagina Monologues. This year we went to the Marine Room. It is a restaurant cozily situated on the beach. A large plate-glass window dominates one wall of the restaurant, affording a prime view of the ocean. The sky is a dark grey illuminated by a few streaks of trailing crimson as the sun sets. During high tide, the water rises all the way to the top of the window and the restaurant is gradually transformed into an aquarium. Sometimes the fish swim right up to the window. It is very posh and romantic and nice change from eating at "kid-friendly places."

When we are seated, the waiter asks us in this cultured voice, "Would you like the Evian ($20 a bottle) or the house water?" He emphasizes "house water" in a tone that implies that if you did lower yourself to order THAT item, you are a peasant.

"Uh, we'll have the house water, please," I, the peasant, tell him.

"Very good madam," he replies without missing a beat.

The dinner was fabu. I immediately notice that it is a quiet and slow-paced dinner. There is no cutting up of food into tiny bits, coaxing of "please just eat one vegetable for Mommy", and no excited children jumping around. The mental shift from being parents to being a couple on a date takes a while to accomplish. Afterwards we pick up the kids and drive home, and we go back to being parents again.

That evening made me think of how our roles can own so much of us. Currently I am playing the mommy role. When I take my daughter to ballet, they address me as "X’s Mommy". When the kids are sleeping, sometimes Hubby and I are so tired we still refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy" in conversation (I'm not going to even think about the whole Freudian aspect of this). Going back to being part of a couple or even just myself, Mir, takes effort. Once in awhile it's nice to remember that I'm not defined only by the roles I take on and this dinner was one such occasion.
Some people have A LOT of time on their hands. Are you bored? Then dress up your cat! This site is cute and funny (has lots of Engrish).

Thanks to Katia for this link.
Back In the Day - 1995

"I love you," he declared as he crushed her to his muscular body.

"But I thought you just wanted to be friends," she questioned.

"I love you," he repeated emphatically. "I never want to be apart from you again. Marry me."

She searched his face inquiringly. The hint of vulnerability beneath his stoic facade undid her. "I love you too! Yes I will marry you!" she cried. Her tears of joy wet them both as they embraced in a passionate kiss...

(okay it didn’t quite happen that way but it makes for more dramatic reading, don't you think?)

Eight Years Later...

"So honey, let's spend some time together tonight. You know, really bond as a couple," I tell my husband one evening.

"Right now? Woo hoo!" Hubby exclaims.

"No, not that! I mean emotionally bonding and stuff," I explain.

"Oh." He sighs. "All right, what do you want to do then?"

"Well we can't go out anywhere because of the kids. How about a hobby we can work on together?" I suggest.

Hubby pauses for a minute. "I like mountain biking."

"Nope. We can't do that together at home…"

"How about playing the computer?" he enthuses. "Oh, I know! We'll buy another computer and network them and play BattleNet! My Druid and your Amazon will reign supreme!"

"Uh, maybe something else," I hedge. I didn't want to spend $2000 on another computer just so we could game online together.

"What do you like then?" Hubby asks exasperatedly.

"Umm…I like to read," I suggest.

"A noble but solitary pursuit," Hubby replies. "Unless you want to act out the love scenes?"

I turn my gimlet gaze upon him. "Well I must be pretty boring then because all I like to do is read and sleep. Oh, and play on the Internet."

We both sit there perplexed. "I guess we can think about it then," I mumble.

"Well, I'm going to play Diablo II now," Hubby announces.

I sigh.

The CSS for this layout has been updated...

and it should be viewable in Netscape now. If anyone has any problems with it, please let me know.
But this is funny as hell. And its a little naughty. I got this from Ernie's site. You just have to read it.

Preview: "Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat."
His 50%

In another fit of "The World Is Depressing So I'm Making My Home Prettier", I went to Agent Orange and bought massive amounts of flowers to plant in the backyard. As I pull into the driveway, Hubbo comes out of the house to help me unload the car.

"Wow," I tell him. "You look so muscular and manly. You been working out, stud-muffin?"

He raises his eyebrow at this blatant piece of flattery. "You want me to plant the flowers, don't you?" he says.

"Hunky AND smart!" I exclaim. "I'll watch the kids, okay?"

Hubby grumbles under his breath but he acquiesces.

My 50%

I usually go to bed earlier then my husband. One morning I wake up and go down to the kitchen to make breakfast. The kitchen island is littered with candy bar wrappers and the remnants of a bag of chips (guess who is the snacker in the family...not me).

"Honey!" I yell. "Why didn't you clean up your mess?"

"Mpmmhph," is his garbled reply.

I clean up the kitchen and I go back upstairs to get ready for work. As I walk about our bedroom, I pick up the trail of man-clothes/undergarments leading from the shower, to the bathroom and then the bed.

"Mphpmnhh," he comments again as he stretches out and turns over in bed to sleep that extra ten minutes as I feed the kids and help get them ready for their day.

Love...after eight years of marriage...ain't it grand?

Romances Chop! They Dice! And They Make Julienne Fries!

This morning while hubby and I were getting ready for work, he glanced at the area around my nightstand. Stacks of books (mostly of the romance variety) were piled haphazardly by my side of the bed. He leaned in for a closer look.

"Honey, do you have a Scottish fetish or something?" he wondered.

"What are you talking about?" I replied grumpily.

"Well you have all these books: 'Scottish Girls Around Town' and 'The Adventures of a Scottish Heiress'. What gives?" he asked.

"Oh," I mumbled sheepishly. "Coincidence, I think."

I thought it was kind of funny. I have always been mocked for my addiction to romances, but I thought it was time to give some examples in which reading romances actually made me look smarter then I really was.

Example #1

In my high school Western Civilization class, my teacher (favorite of all time) was uber-intelligent and expected the same of her students. She was walking around the room one day and lecturing about something or another. She made a sudden turn and stopped dramatically. "Does anyone know what a shaman is?" she asked. The class was still. Nobody raised their hand. I had recently read a romance about a shaman falling in love with some chick.

I raised my hand eagerly. "Oh, Ms. B!" I called out, "It's a member of certain tribal societies who acts as a medium between the visible world and an invisible spirit world and who practices magic or sorcery for purposes of healing, divination, and control over natural events!" (okay I didn't use that precise definition, but I definitely knew what it was)

"Excellent! Yes, a shaman..." she said and continued her lecture.

I smiled smugly at the room in general. My best friend (who constantly mocked my devotion to romances) rolled her eyes at me.

Example #2

In college, I was taking a U.S. History course. The professor was lecturing about the early 1900's.

"On March 25, 1911, a fire broke out at a sweatshop in New York, killing 146 people because all of the fire exits were bolted shut and..."

I eagerly raised my hand. The professor paused. He peered at me and sighed. "Yes?"

"Would that be the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire?" I asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" he asked.

"Oh, I've read about it before," I said.

"In a romance," I whispered conspiratorially to my roommate, who was sitting next to me.

"You are correct," the professor said to me.

I beamed.

So you see, while romances may have some corny dialogue, many romance authors base their books on historical events they research and thus enable the reader to have a greater understanding of life, art and love. And kick ass in history class.
Here is another corny quote from a romance last night:

"The orgasm ship had set sail and there was no turning back..."


to anyone who can figure out what this means in English!

"Soylens Viridis Homines Est..."

I'm finishing this story like two weeks later but what the hell...(click here for Part 1)

The party was in full swing when we got there. I had to hide the gag gifts wrapped in naked male bum wrapping paper so my daughter wouldn't ask, "Mommy, what's that butt paper for?" The gifts were put into a big basket. Everyone drew a number to see what order the gifts would be picked in. The person after them could either steal their gift or pick one from the basket. My Aunt M was one of the first ones to choose a gift.

"Which one should I get?" she wondered.

"Ooh, Aunt M, get this one," pointing to my contribution. She stared suspiciously at the wrapping paper. I smiled guilelessly. "This one is from my mom."

"Okay," she said. If it was from my mom, it must be okay then, despite the asses.

As soon as she unwrapped it, everyone started to laugh their ass off. "What is this!" she cried.

"An elephant," I said. "F (her boyfriend) can wear it on his..."

Aunt M started to beat me with the box before I could finish my sentence.

"You tricked me!" she said indignantly. "I'm never going to believe you again!"

"But it will keep F warm when he is cold!" Aunt G laughed.

Admist much hilarity, the elephant was passed around and inspected. One of my cousins showed it to her dad, who was totally old school. He stared at it but refused to acknowledge the fact that so much lewdness was being paraded in front of him. He just smiled and stared straight ahead. I had a much more difficult time explaining the elephant to my grandmother.

"Ah-Wun (that's what she calls me), what is that?" she asked me in Chinese.

"Ah...boys wear it..." I said haltingly in Cantonese. I didn't know how to say "penis" in Chinese. "MOM!" I called out to my mom to run interference for me. When my mom explained what it was to my grandmother, my grandmother shook her head. I could imagine what she was thinking, "You kids that grow up in America with your hamburgers and elephant underwear."

I managed to palm off the two boxes of edible condoms to my cousins.

"In case you get hungry," I told them. They just rolled their eyes.

I managed to snag a nice tea set, but it was stolen from me as punishment for bringing such naughty gifts. We devoured the roast pork and various food items that everybody had brought. In a year that had been difficult for the entire family, parties such as this (complete with edible condoms and elephant underwear) were the good memories we would treasure.
This is from Wil Wheaton's website, The Top 10 Things I Hate About Star Trek. Its pretty funny.
We went to visit my parents for Mother's Day weekend. I took them out for dinner at this Korean BBQ place. Afterwards, my mom and I went to worship at the altar of Wal-Mart (we love that store!) to get some stuff. I got my mom onto the Slimfast shake diet and she seems to like it. Wal-Mart had "Buy 8 for the price of 6" and she wanted to get some. When we got there, we perused the various flavors.

"Don't get the cappuccino flavor, Mom. It makes your piss smell like sh*t." I told her. I watched her face closely to see if she if she was shocked and scandalized by my potty mouth.

"Well since I only want the vanilla flavor, I won't have to worry about my pee smelling like sheet, will I?" she retorted. She emphasized the word "sh*t" in a tone that implied "You are too old for your mouth to be washed out with soap but I will not acknowledge the fact that you are trying to shock me thus I will say the word too". I merely laughed.

As it turned out, Wal-Mart only had the special on the Banana Creme flavor. After some debating, she decided to get the banana despite earlier statements that she only wanted vanilla.

"Mom, you don't even know what that tastes like!" I protested. "You can't resist a bargain, can you, even if it tastes horrible?"

"Yup." She said. Somehow my mom always manages to get the last word.

More inspired lines from aforementioned romance...

"Lets get you a little more stable. You're cantilevered out a little too far for my comfort...Archictecture. Four semesters."

"You should see the expression on your face," she said. "like your lit up inside."
He swallowed. "I feel like I am. Like I'm a...rechargeable battery...hooked up to the power source."
She ran a tongue over her dry lips. "Interesting comparison. About the battery."
"I was in electrical...engineering for a while."

He clenched his jaw. "I'm running a self-control deficit here, though...One semester of accounting..."


I am a romance novel junkie. I enjoy romance novels. I admit it. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I don't drink that much alcohol. I cannot however, enter a store without perusing the book section. I have to buy a book at least once a week. I can't help it. Such was the case last night when I nipped into Barnes and Noble to see if they had the latest and greatest for the month of May. They didn't. Disappointed and desperate, I scanned the back covers of some Harlequins (you know the kind they sell next to the Enquirer in the supermarket checkout) and bought two. Surely they can't be that bad, I thought to myself. They were. Don't get me wrong, the much reviled romance industry (bad writing, no plots, gratuitous sex scenes blah blah blah) has some great writers which I thoroughly enjoy. But they don't write fast enough for me, so I am forced to buy the ones I wouldn't ordinarily buy because I need my fix. The worse one was one in which a "writer" secretly lusts after her limousine driver. He of course, is a totally hot stud. He is supposedly finishing law school but can't decide what he wants to do with life. In undergrad he changes his major four times. So to demonstrate this, this author peppers his dialogue with phrases (one time each) from the disciplines he studied. For example, he was premed for two semesters:

"Ooh baby, your outfit gives me a cardiac arrhythmia! I learned that when I was premed, baby."

Now that the hero is in law school, he feels free to enthuse:

"Let the evidence show that my legal briefs are hot for you, baby!"

Ugh. Remind me never to buy a romance book on impulse again.


50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can Be Wrong!

According to some theory, if you have an infinite number of monkeys who have an infinite number of typewriters, they will eventually produce the works of Shakespeare. But if you give six monkeys access to a computer for a month, what do they produce? A mess!

Per the article, the monkeys pressed the "s" key a lot, did shits on the keyboard and had a lot of fun kicking the hell out of the computer. But sadly, no Shakespeare. Remind me to let these monkeys loose at my computer at work... :P

Update on the Iraqi Information Minister

Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf tried to surrender to U.S. forces, but they refused to arrest him because he isn't on the most wanted list. Apparently he is now living at his aunt's house in Baghdad.

(thanks to Big Pink Cookie for the link.)

Political Ramblings at the DSD today...

Bush says watching "The Last Starfighter" is the real reason he entered politics.

Also, Republicans are using Hilary Clinton as a scare tactic to fundraise for their party. They call her the "top fund-raiser, their top ideologue, their leading voice in opposition to President Bush." Apparently if you don't give the Republicans money, and "If Republicans don't take immediate steps to counter her, Senator Hillary Clinton will continue to rise unimpeded to the very pinnacle of power in Washington and we will see the dawning of a new, more liberal Clinton era." This is despite repeated statements by Hilary that she is not running for President. You go girl!
Microsoft is building portable loos with internet access. This techno-port-a-potty offers a wireless, waterproof keyboard which can be placed on the user's lap. There are two plasma screens (one attached to the inside of the potty and one on the outside where everyone can see what your surfing) available. Aside from people spending more time on the toilet then necessary and the obvious sanitary issues, would one really want to touch a keyboard that has rested on countless pantless laps?. If you installed a mini-fridge in there some guys would call it home!
Call me a nerd (that doesn't like blood or gore), but I didn't mind this blood and gore. Its funny... ^_^

Jarrett's Blood Splatter Photoshop Tutorial (thanks to blog-fu for this link)

White Elephants...Part 1

Chinese New Year is always a big holiday for my family. In theory it is a way to transmit the cultural values and heritage of our race to our children. In reality, it is a loud, exuberant series of gatherings to welcome the new year. My Auntie S owns an orchid shop (FAH-PO in Chinese) and we always had the big family gatherings at her place. This year, she planned to serve a whole roasted pig. My Pou Pou (maternal grandmother who can wield a Chinese knife like no other) would chop it up to serve everyone. The married old farts (this includes me) would pass out red envelopes filled with money to the unmarried kids.

"Everyone bring a white elephant gift so we can have some fun," Aunt S. advised before the party.

I stayed at my parent's house the weekend of the party. In anticipation of buying the white elephant gifts, I rubbed my hands together with glee (most of you can see where this is going already).

"Grab something for me, ok?" my mom requested as I headed out the door.

"No problem!" I replied.

The only shop that sold items of questionable value was Spencer's Gifts in the mall. I was one of the first customers in the store. I decided not to be too pervy, so I bought some edible underwear and a fuzzy elephant that men could wear as an accessory. At the last minute I threw in some naked male bum gift paper too. The teenage clerk started laughing like Beevis when he rang up my purchases. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Are you going to a bridal shower?" he inquired.

"Uh, yeah," I replied. I didn't know how else to explain it to him.

When I got back to my 'rent's house, I asked, "Hey mom, want to see what I bought for the gag gifts?"

"I already know what kind of gift you got. Its HAM-SUP (Chinese for perverted), isn't it," she said knowingly.

"Hey dad," I called. "How about you? Would you like to behold the glory of my acquisitions?"

"Yeah," he said in a way that implied that he really didn't want to but what the hell.

"Look!" I held up the edible underwear box. "Strawberry flavor! And check out the male ass wrapping paper!"

My dad laughed somewhat nervously. I could see the thoughts running through his head. Why was his daughter showing him such things. Where did he go wrong in raising daughter that bought such things for a FAMILY party.

"Cool, huh?" I asked my dad.

"Uh, yeah," he said, not really meaning it.

I grinned evilly, but I decided to let him off the hook and wrap the gifts in my room.

To be continued...
Apparently in China I'm banned. DSD is too risque, pervy and liberal (???) to be displayed in the Mutha-Land. Harvard University has an application that can determine whether your website is banned or not. Go here to see whether you are a naughty webpage! (thanks to Ernie at LYD for this link).