relationships

friends — 1 Comment
02
Oct 10

The ex-friends who can’t get over me?

While I was working on my latest Frisky article, I wondered if I should I include the times I was on the other side, when I was the dumper instead of the dumpee. In the end, I didn’t, but I’ve certainly thought about it, especially after seeing some of the comments from people who shared their stories about having dumped friends.

I’ve dumped friends twice, once much in the way that June dumped me – without explanation – the other time, after a falling out.

I hadn’t been friends with Person A for long. I knew him from before, but we weren’t friends. There were already some things I didn’t like about him before I dumped him. He was incredibly manipulative of my time, and only wanted to do things that he wanted to do. He’d get put out if I didn’t want to hang out with him for an entire day.

But the most annoying thing was that he tried to horn in on my writing. At the time I was working on Song of the Stranger, my YA novel, which is set in Hokkaido, Japan. Because Person A – who was white – had taken some Japanese classes and had been to Tokyo, he had a lot of suggestions about how I should write my book. He was also a wannabe writer. He dragged me to this Tokyo exhibit (although saying Hokkaido is like Tokyo is saying that Alaska is like NYC) and this lecture on women’s rights in Japan.

“I think you should include something about women’s rights in your book,” he told me.

Okay, one, it’s my book and not yours. Two, it’s from the point of view of a 12-year old Japanese American girl. Not really the place for a whole political discussion on women’s rights.

I was already sort of fed up with him when I heard that he talked shit about me behind my back, saying that he felt more qualified to write the book than I did. That was really the last straw. I mailed him back some books he lent me without a note, and just simply stopped talking to him.

I remember he wrote me a letter saying I owed him an explanation. I felt I didn’t. I felt like he should have known what he did. But maybe he was as in the dark as I am about June.

As for Person B, he had already pissed me off by the time we had a falling out. We had been friends since almost the beginning of college. We were close, or so I thought. When I came back after six months in China, he was one of the first friends I called, and our conversation went something like this:

Person B (PB) [sounding bored]: Oh, hi, Angela.

Me: I’m back from China!

PB: Oh. Congratulations!

Congratulations? What a weird thing to say. Welcome back! sure. Yay! maybe. But congratulations?

Then what followed was an incredibly stilted conversation where he sounded totally bored and asked me nothing about my adventures. He only brightened when he said, “You should meet my new girlfriend! We’re going to China in the fall and you have to give us recommendations!”

We arranged to meet for dinner. I got there 10 minutes early, as I tend to do. I waited outside thinking I’d see them come in. It was drizzling on and off. Those 10 minutes passed, then another 30. I peeked inside, but it was so dark, I didn’t think PB and his girlfriend would be hiding in the recesses of the shadows. I thought they’d be right by the door, or would have come out to find me.

Finally I called PB’s cell phone.

PB [that some bored voice]: Oh, hi Angela.

Me: Where are you guys?

PB: In the restaurant.

Me [shocked silence]: I’ve been waiting in the rain for 40 minutes.

PB: Oh. Why’d you did that?

Me [getting really mad]: I’ve been waiting out here for 40 minutes and you guys didn’t come out to check on me once.

PB [still bored]: Oh. Sorry. Do you still want to have dinner?

Me [flabbergasted at his bored, could-care-less tone]: No.

PB [sounding shocked for a change]: No?

Me: No. I could pretend that everything’s okay, but I’m upset. So I’m going home.

PB: So you’re just gonna go home?

Me: Yes.

PB [another moment of shocked silence]: Fine.

So I left. I was really hoping he’d come after me, but he didn’t. I was hoping he’d call or email, but he didn’t.

In that case, I thought it was pretty clear what happened. I was pissed, and he obviously thought I had no right to be pissed. He obviously felt our friendship wasn’t worth any sort of effort to make it right, even if I was being crazy. And after hearing how bored he was whenever he talked to me, even after six months of my being out of the country, I concluded our friendship had been a sham.

You know what’s funny: June was one of the few people who was totally on my side regarding my falling out with PB.

Other friends thought I had overreacted, even if PB was in the wrong too. PB even claimed to one of my friends that he had come out to see if I was there, which was complete bullshit because I was there early.

“That cow!” June growled when I told her what happened. Calling someone a cow was her way of calling out someone who had no decency or manners.

Who knows, maybe in the end she thought I was a cow too. Or like one of the commenters on my Frisky piece said, some time passed with no contact, some more time passed, and then suddenly it was more than a year, and she was too embarrassed to get back in touch.

I will probably never know.

family / los angeles / travel — Comments Off
14
Sep 10

L.A., short but sweet

Our flight was Thursday night. We decided to take the BART to the airport for the first time. Usually we grab a cab. I’m not sure why. For some reason we had this idea that the BART would be more trouble than its worth, but actually it turned out to be very easy.

You may have heard about the gas line explosion in San Bruno, a town right near the airport. Well, we were traveling on the BART when it happened and didn’t hear a thing. We must have been underground at the time. In fact, I think we were waiting on the San Bruno platform – having take the wrong train initially – minutes before the explosion.

Chalk this up to two other explosions I didn’t hear.

I forgot the airplane would be so small, and MB was pretty cramped, but the flight was less than an hour. We flew into Burbank, a dinky little airport, and lickety split we were outta there and in my brother’s car. Much easier than LAX (though the flights are a bit pricier). It was already 10 by the time we got to his apartment so we just ate something, watched TV, chilled.

I slept awesome knowing there were no mosquitoes.

The next day my brother – whom I call Di, “little brother” in Mandarin – had to go to work so MB and I mostly hung around the apartment working on our own stuff. I put in some hours for my job but also had a chance to work on my writing.

For lunch, we took a long walk out to Ventura Boulevard, eating at this random Mexican dive, Manny’s, along the way. We walked in and saw all the customers were Mexican construction/maintenance guys, and thought the food must be good. And it was. I got a chorizo scramble (low cholesterol diet be damned for the weekend) and it was delish!

While it wasn’t too hot, it was still hot to be walking that much. By the time we got back, I was sweaty, sunburnt, and grouchy because I hadn’t brought enough clothes, not anticipating that one of my outfits would stink by the first day.

When Di came home, we got some ramen for dinner and then pie for dessert. The pie was good, especially my brother’s banana cream, but we kept smelling this weird, musty, mildewy smell. It was strange because it would come and go. At first Di thought it was the old woman at the table next to us, but then I surmised it was the rag they were using to wipe the tables. I smelled the smell when the guy wiped our neighboring table, and my bro smelled it later when another walked by with the offending rag. Gross.

More chilling out afterward. Di had just come back from vacation in Mexico and was pooped, and MB and I were worn out from our walk in the sun that afternoon, or at least I was.

The next day it was off to my uncle’s. He and my aunt were away so my parents were brought in to help with my grandmother. Luckily my grandmother has 24/7 care so my parents don’t have to do much except just be there.

My mom made a great lunch of beef noodles, dumplings, and a variety of other dishes. No pictures since I didn’t bring my camera. (I’ve fallen so far out of the habit of taking pictures!) Since we had time, my brother washed his car, and we did laundry. Yay, no more stinky outfit! Later we hit the mall (what else?), and I actually had luck finding some pants I liked.

Then it was back home and fantastic dinner, thanks to Mom again. There were two kinds of fish, stir fried shrimp with peas, mapo tofu, stir fried beef with pickled veggies, teriyaki chicken, tea eggs, baby bok choy, and beef soup. I’m sure leaving stuff out as well.

Okay, hungry now.

While we were eating, my mother asked my brother, “Do you remember my hitting you with my slipper?” and he said, “Yes, of course! Why else would I be afraid of a slipper?”

The funny thing is I don’t remember the slipper actually ever hitting me. I remember the threat, the rushing of my mother toward me with slipper in hand, but I probably never went so far as to warrant a whack.

Then we started talking about a whole bunch of other memories. I remember when Di knocked down the Christmas tree. I remember when I broke the wall and all these bees flew out. (Apparently there was a giant hive growing in the wall for years.) I remember when I used to pee the bed and Mom would get so mad. MB was thoroughly entertained.

We left L.A. Sunday afternoon, and returned to a very chilly Bay Area.

This upcoming weekend: Seattle!

family — 2 Comments
14
Jun 10

A very Chinese weekend

It didn’t start out too Chinese, unless you count the several games of Xmahjongg I played on our flight. We landed around 4:30 and had to wait a bit for my brother. There was tons of traffic. It was good that we didn’t take a taxi. The drive to the hotel was about an hour, and I can’t imagine what the fare would have been.

As we walked up to the hotel, I heard my name and saw one of my aunts. Then I realized my entire family was there in the lobby, about to leave for the rehearsal dinner. Yikes! I hugged everyone and introduced MB (for the first time!). It was a bit scary but kind of fun.

We went upstairs to wash off airplane grime and get dressed. My mother had said the hotel was run-down, but our room was really nice! Not fancy schmancy, but an above average, clean hotel room. The bathroom had one of those see through shower stalls, which I love.

The restaurant was right across the street. As we walked in, I felt somewhat nervous about my brightly colored dress, but people seemed to like it.

The food was Chinese banquet style, ie, a ton of dishes. Shrimp, duck, sea cucumber (which wasn’t as bad as I remember), pork, etc. But somehow at the end of the meal, we were still hungry.

I think because those big banquets were originally to show how rich a family was, the purpose wasn’t to satiate hunger but to give everyone a taste of these exotic, expensive dishes. Unlike the noodles and Taiwanese “street food” we had a few hours later at the Tea Station.

The thing we discovered about San Gabriel is that it’s incredibly Chinese. There were two or three mini malls that were entirely Asian, which means awesome food but also lots of Chinese people. Obviously I’ve no problem with that, but many of them seemed to have a problem with us as “mixed couple,” at least as far as I could tell by their constant staring. It’s like, one, this is America, and two, you can’t swing a dead cat in some cities without hitting an Asian woman-white guy couple. Where have you people been? It was a very strange experience.

But the food was good. MB got a bunch of small dishes and got “tea flavored” noodles and fried cuttlefish balls, all of which was yummy.

MB and I thought we’d have all of Saturday to laze around and do some work, but somehow we got roped into helping one of my cousins with some last minute wedding preparation. I actually didn’t mind. It’s fun when it’s not my wedding. And MB managed to get out of it when some time sensitive work issues popped up (how convenient!).

We worked on the favors, which involved shoving slightly too big cookies into slightly too snug bags. Then there was placing the favors on the tables, and alphabetizing the name cards, which I bitchily took over since one of the women was incredibly inefficient. My adrenaline was actually pumping! Reminded me of my meeting planning days.

Then my aunt, the mother of the groom, appeared and said she needed a guy to help nail down the runner. My brother was already dressed up, so he couldn’t do it. I volunteered MB, who didn’t mind taking a break from work to come down.

But once we got out to the terrace, what my aunt – and my uncle, and two random guys – were saying made no sense. First off everyone was talking at once in a combination of Chinese and English. Next it sounded like the runner couldn’t be rolled out till right before the bride walked, so being dressed up or not didn’t seem to be an issue.

The whole time I thought, Then why have MB do it? MB, basically random white guy, rather my brother, a first cousin AND an usher? But I didn’t want to make it seem like I didn’t want MB to do it.

I did tell MB he definitely didn’t need to stick around and to just go back to our room. Luckily my mother, older sister to father of the groom, spoke up and said, “Why not just have my son do it? He’s an usher!”

“Oh yeah,” my aunt said. I can’t blame her really for not thinking clearly. I remember being completely crazed on my wedding day.

That settled, I went to relax with MB before the wedding started.

Overall it was beautiful. Being on the garden terrace was sort of hot in the sun, but the flowers were beautiful and the harp was very nice. Of course I teared up a little during the vows. The whole ceremony was thankfully short.

Not so for pictures afterward. Between my aunt’s siblings, our family, and the bride’s side, there were a billion family pictures and various combinations. No biggie though. We mostly sat around in the shade, aghast at how ludicrously cute one of my other cousin’s daughters are. My cousin’s wife is, I think, part South American and part African American, so their kids are Chinese-South American-black, and SO FRIGGING CUTE. I want to abduct them.

Like the rehearsal dinner, the reception was Chinese style banquet, but with much more food, so it was impossible not to be full. There were tons of speeches and a “This Is Your Life” slide show, but no bouquet tossing or garter throwing, thanks goodness.

The first couple of times my brother asked our mom to dance, she was embarrassed and resisted. “Oh my God!” she said, mostly because no one else was dancing. But when they played Moon River, she enthusiastically went with my dad to the floor, and then during an Elvis ballad, she practically jumped out of her chair when my brother asked.

MB didn’t feel like dancing, but I got him to go up once.

By ten we were back up in our room. Very convenient to have everything in one place!

The next morning it was back to the airport, then home, finally, yay!

The ‘rents flew up to San Francisco with us and are in town till Wednesday. Their flight got in a little after ours. Their hotel is just two blocks from our place, so we picked them up in the early evening to show them our apartment and a little of the area. For dinner we took them to our favorite Thai place, which they really liked.

I had switched my schedule around to hang out with them today, but they’re actually going to my aunt’s in Fremont and aren’t back till tomorrow afternoon. Free day, woohoo! which I really need because I have an article due tomorrow which I’ve barely started, I’m totally behind on my Nervous Breakdown reading, and I need to go to the library and possibly the gym.

Tomorrow night we’ll have dinner, probably in Japantown.

Whew, very long catch up. Now first thing: more caffeine!

family — 3 Comments
08
Apr 10

And disturbingly unfunny too

I found the following “joke” in my inbox this morning from my 70+ year old aunt:

It’s Hell to be Old

OLD people have problems that you haven’t even considered yet!

An 85-year-old man was requested by his Doctor for a sperm count as part of his physical exam. The doctor gave the man a jar and said, ‘Take this jar home and bring back a semen sample tomorrow.’

The next day the 85-year-old man reappeared at the doctor’s office and gave him the jar, which was as clean and empty as on the previous day. The doctor asked what happened and the man explained, ‘Well, doc, it’s like this — first I tried with my right hand, but nothing. Then I tried with my left hand, but still nothing.

‘Then I asked my wife for help. She tried with her right hand, then with her left, still nothing She tried with her mouth, first with the teeth in,then with her teeth out, still nothing.

‘We even called up Arleen, the lady next door and she tried too, first with both hands, then an armpit, and she even tried squeezin’ it between her knees, but still nothing.’

The doctor was shocked! ‘You asked your neighbor?’

The old man replied, ‘Yep, none of us could get the jar open.’

And for some reason it was in 36 point font. Why do I have a feeling it was originally on a PowerPoint slide? Why do old Chinese people love PowerPoint?

family / travel / what i'm reading now / writing — 2 Comments
29
Mar 10

Yawn

So I was up till two last night because, like a dumb dumb, I had a strong coffee late in the afternoon. I couldn’t help it! I love Philz.

Update on the cruise saga: I found one that fits the dates my parents are looking for, and departs from Los Angeles. I gave the info to my mom, and also let her know that I don’t want to go.

“I thought you wanted to go!” she said.

“For about a second,” I said. She laughed.

My parents understand that I find cruises really really boring. Of course they’re disappointed that we won’t be joining them, but they won’t make us do anything that we don’t find fun. Now they just need to decide if they want to do that cruise.

Because I had decided not to stick around the week after my cousin’s wedding, I could make our flight arrangements. They were pretty cheap – less than $300 round trip for two people. Makes sense. The flight’s just an hour, but over Thanksgiving the tickets were almost $400 per person, I guess because we were flying into a different airport and it was the holidays.

We were going to stay with my brother but then thought the hotel would be easier. The wedding’s right downstairs so we don’t have to worry about transportation. I thought the hotel was $150 a night, but it turned out my cousin had a discount code, so the price was cheaper.

I love getting a good deal.

In other news, I’m officially addicted to the Harry Potter books. I read my first, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (out of order because I picked up a free copy from the “library” in my building’s laundry room), and I loved it! I was surprised. Although it moves fast, it doesn’t feel like a kids’ book. I’ll try to get the others from the library. Now I’m reading Persuasion, which is no Harry Potter but still enjoyable.

I have an essay to hand in today, as well as possibly some more ideas to another magazine. I’ve decided, since my writing site is static now and I have essays that I’ve written that don’t necessarily fit anywhere, I’m going to start posting them on my writing site. The first is a write-up of my experience at the Korean spa with ES back in February. Enjoy the naked reading!

crazy stuff my mom says / family / rant and/or rave — 4 Comments
18
Mar 10

Oh, Mother

*Sigh.*

So my cousin is getting married in June in L.A. This means my parents are flying out, and thought they’d take the opportunity to come up and visit us in SF afterward. Simple, right? WRONG.

My mother, as she does, has come up with a flurry of complicated plans. She had told me that my brother had suggested driving all of us back up to SF and spending some time together.

“All of us?” I said. “We’ll have to rent a van.”

“Oh sure,” my mother said.

Then today she told me that IF my brother wanted to drive, THEN she and my father would both come up to SF and stay with us for a few days before driving back down with my brother. (They need to be back in L.A. for the weekend to look after my grandmother while my uncle, aunt, and her side of the family go to Las Vegas.)

BUT, if my brother didn’t want to drive, then only my mother would come up and my father would stay with my brother, and in that case my mother would stay a whole week instead of just a few days.

Oh my head is spinning.

ANOTHER scenario is that she’ll convince my dad to go to SF no matter what (ie, even if my brother doesn’t drive, though why that’s a determining factor I have no idea), and they’ll stay a whole week.

A whole frigging week.

Tactfully as I could, I said our place is actually not that big so that while they could stay a few days (hopefully more like two), a hotel might be better, and I promised to do research.

My mother seemed keen on this idea, but then suddenly said, “You know, you guys should pay for the hotel.”

I was thinking that same thing, out of guilt, and said sure. Fine and dandy, right?

Wrong.

“You didn’t even offer,” my mother huffed. “You didn’t even think of it first.”

So after I a) offer to research hotels, and b) agree to pay for it, she still criticizes me. I was so frigging annoyed.

But because I’m such a wuss when it comes to my mom, I did a little research and called back to very nicely inform her of current hotel pricing. “Too expensive,” she kept saying though she seemed to have gotten over her huff.

There is just no winning with her, my brother said. You’re going along, you’re trying your best, and then there’s this secret behavior that you’re supposed to engage in, and if you don’t, you’ve totally failed.

By the way, it turned out my brother never offered to drive them. It was all her own idea. What is wrong with her???

friends / writing — 1 Comment
05
Mar 10

A break and gossip

Took a break from the grind yesterday by hanging out with a blogging pal.

We arranged to meet in the Mission for lunch. Normally I’d have taken a cab, but when ES was here, she got me to “practice” taking public transportation and so now I feel more confident.

I needed to get to a BART station, the closest of which is Civic Center. But I wanted to avoid that area. I should have just walked to Powell, but like a dummy I walked all the way down Van Ness, thinking I’d hit Market. I would have eventually, but way out of my way.

At the Powell BART station, I bit the bullet and put $20 on a card (which seems to be the only option when using your debit or credit card – have I mentioned SF public transit sucks?). As I was finishing, a homeless guy appeared out of nowhere and asked me for money.

Hello, you don’t do that to a woman by herself with her purse open! You spring up on her out of nowhere, of course she’s going to dart away like a quarterback with the ball and you’re a 300 pound line backer. As I walked quickly away, he said, “You’re fast!” That’s right, mofo, get away from me.

As I was riding the BART, I realized that I could take it out to Richmond the next time I get a hankering for good Chinese food. A whole new world! Don’t you DARE close your eyes.

My friend and I met up on the 24th and Mission platform, and walked to Papalote Mexican Grill. Apparently it was on Bobby Flay’s cooking show, and I suspect the prices have been jacked up. The burrito, while tasty, was about $8, which is steep for the Mission, and my friend said her small bottle of water was $2.50. That’s movie theater prices!

I got the chili verde burrito with pork and it hit the spot. I was glad there didn’t seem to be any rice. Too much rice in a burrito fills me up.

Afterward, we walked down 24th Street, stopping at Dynamo Donuts. Unfortunately they were out of bacon donuts (yes, donuts with BACON), so I made do with spicy chocolate and lemon pistachio. I had the chocolate one this morning, and I have to say it wasn’t that great. I expected it to be much richer. Maybe the lemon one will be better.

Eventually we made our way to Dolores Park, which I’d never been to before. It was such a gorgeous day just to sit and hang out. At one point, another homeless guy approached us and offered to sell us – what? a homemade bong? I wasn’t sure as I had turned away, but apparently that’s what he said. For the rest of our time there, he wandered around, bothering people.

It was great to get out and get some sun. In fact, I think I’m both a little sun- and windburned. Should really invest in a hat.

Today it’s back to work. Working on an essay with the theme of “family and friends,” due April 1. Want to send query letters to some agents for my memoir, four in San Francisco and a couple in New York. I pitched a couple of ideas to a magazine and am waiting to hear.

While doing some research on literary agents, I found this helpful list of “bad” agents, and one of them, Mark Sullivan Associates, was a place I briefly worked for in college! He’s on the list because, like other “thumbs down” agents, he charged up front fees. An agent really shouldn’t charge authors anything.

His reasoning, according to a discussion board, for charging fees is:

The book must be read carefully, and a written evaluation proving the agency’s attention and effort should accompany a contract or a rejection, in either case. We provide this.

You know who provided the written evaluation? Students like me.

He mostly hired graduate students, but he had no problem employing me, a mere sophomore. It was pretty thankless work. I’d have to read most of these giant manuscripts, and type up a page’s worth of evaluation. Needless to say, I didn’t do it for very long.

I remember the guy being kind of a jerk. He was one of those arrogant nerds, a know-it-all and full of himself. He had a Japanese girlfriend (from Japan) who I guess didn’t know any better.

So funny to see him on a worst agents list.

friends / san francisco — 2 Comments
25
Feb 10

San Francisco in six days

My friend ES visited me these past few days, and we had a great time exploring the city, trying new foods, and just hanging out (mostly watching the Olympics).

Thursday

We met up at the Asian Art Museum. We both wanted to see the Shanghai exhibit. It was interesting to see how dramatically the city’s changed over the course of time. I find the Communist propaganda posters fascinating, and could see a whole exhibit just on that. Outside the exhibit were some cool sculptures.

Friday

The next day we tried to eat brunch at Elite Cafe, but it’s only open for brunch on the weekends. Damn! We made do with The Grove, which was just okay. Their breakfasts are better than their sandwich fare, but I was starving so whatever.

Next stop was La Boulange down the street. My brother has been recommending the place to me forever, and ES has been there before. They have beautiful pastries.

I got one chocolate and one almond croissant. I was disappointed with the chocolate, but the almond one was delicious! (I didn’t eat them all in one sitting, by the way)

Then we walked around Japantown, which was very apropos since it was the same time of year – around the strawberry-loving Japanese holiday of Girls’ Day – that we were in Tokyo.

I insisted at first stopping at the New People Cafe for some delicious Blue Bottle coffee. I still say their mocha is the best in town, better even than Philz.

We spent some time in the New People store as well since neither of us had ever been. Basically, it’s fun – and expensive – Japanese toys and collectors’ items.

We spent some time in the different stores, then had dinner at Suzu Noodle House. For some reason, I thought it was new, but it’s clearly not, given the date of the linked review. There was a long wait, and one of the women waiting told us it was “so good,” so we had high hopes. My assessment? Average.

It was definitely good, and at $8.95 for a shio ramen, pretty reasonably priced, but the noodles don’t hold a candle to the ones we had in Tokyo years ago.

Saturday

It was a beautiful day so we headed out to the Mission District. We both have been, but we wanted to take our time and photograph the many murals. . .

. . .and try some food.

That night we saw Wicked. It was very good, very entertaining. But the musical really takes liberties with the book. I absolutely loved the book. I didn’t really hate the changes – they were well-suited for a popular, family-oriented show – but it made the story very different.

Sunday

An awful rainy day. We tried taking the bus back out to Fillmore, but after ten minutes in the rain, it didn’t show so we hopped a cab, which was totally worth the delicious brunch at the Elite Cafe.

I usually get the Alabama Scramble (which ES enjoyed), but this time tried the corned beef hash. It was really delicious.

The Elite seems to be another place that does really good breakfast and so so lunch entrees.

Since it was such a rainy day, we thought a museum would be a good idea, the California Academy of Sciences, which neither of us had been to before.

It was great fun, especially the aquarium and indoor rainforest, where butterflies kept landing on people.

You can’t tell but this butterfly had gorgeous bright blue wings, and I think was attracted to people wearing blue. Before landing on this girl, it had alighted on the hand of a boy in a blue T-shirt.

After a while though, the dive bombing butterflies made me paranoid so I had to leave.

Another highlight was the planetarium, which brought back memories of class trips to the American Museum of Natural History in New York, but also gave me motion sickness (so I’m a wuss).

Afterward we went out to the Ferry Building, my first time. Unfortunately almost everything was closed, but it was nice to walk around.

We ate at Slanted Door, a chi chi Vietnamese place. It was just okay, to tell the truth. I liked my spring roll appetizer, and the green papaya salad was AMAZING, but our entrees were average. Mine, the stir fried chicken, had little bones or date pits scattered throughout. It’s not fun to be chewing then suddenly bite on something hard.

We rode the F line out to Fisherman’s Wharf. There was a guy who didn’t have change for a $20 so a bunch of us – all New Yorkers, coincidentally, including the guy – banded together to give him change.

Monday

ES had the great idea of renting a car and exploring the further parts of the city. First stop: Richmond, home of delicious dim sum and other Chinese eats. I was able to finally get in my dumplings for the New Year.

Next stop was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and taking in the view.

It was really breath taking. I also loved watching the animals, like the pelicans that kept circling overhead, the deer we saw grazing (and pooping), and other various birds. This blue bird – or jay? – let us take its picture.

You can see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

On our way back to dropping off the car, we drove to Haight-Ashbury, and did a quick walk. For dinner we went to Pesce on Polk Street. It’s tapas style Italian and was pretty good. We shared a vegetable risotto – good though needed salt – a braised duck with pappardelle, some kind of pork with gnocchi, and brussel sprouts. Everything was tasty.

ES also got this oyster vodka shooter. She said it was delicious. I took her word for it.

Tuesday

MB was coming home from a conference at around noon so I begged off for a few hours while ES went exploring on her own. Later we caught up at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, which had interesting exhibits on Mein Kampf and about a scribe writing the Torah.

It was another terribly rainy day, but we made it onto a bus that would take us to our appointments at the Imperial Day Spa, a traditional Korean-style spa and sauna. It was a very unique experience. You strip down buck naked, soak in a tub and/or do a sauna, then get scrubbed within an inch of your life by one of several Chinese ladies in matching burgundy bra and panties.

It sounds sexy, but it’s so not. These ladies are strong and work hard. Oh, and you don’t have your own private room complete with soothing music like at some ritzy place – you’re in a communal room with other naked women. You lie on a plastic mat and have buckets of hot water thrown on you (which actually feels amazing).

I may be able to get ~~an article~~ fun post out of this experience, in addition to my silky smooth skin. Either way, it was a fun, and weirdly bonding, activity to cap off ES’s stay.

Now back to the grind for everyone!

See all my photos taken during ES’s visit.

dating / relationships — 5 Comments
17
Feb 10

Single in the city

When I was married, I enjoyed watching Sex and the City. From the comfort of my relationship, I was amused by the women’s dealings with trying to find the right guy. Thank God I don’t have to go through that, I thought in my suburban apartment, my husband in the next room. But when I became single, I found the show depressing.

I quickly learned that dating was not fun. The most fun part was writing my online ad, and maybe that period of time before anyone contacted me, when there was still potential. Then it turned into why isn’t anyone contacting me? Or, why aren’t the guys I want contacting me? Okay, I’ll contact them. The usual response? Crickets.

My very first post-divorce date was the summer of 2005. He was British and loved opera. We were supposed to meet for drinks at six, and the awful manager I had at the time liked to schedule 5:30 meetings. He scheduled one on the night of my date.

“I can’t stay,” I told my co-workers. “I have to leave.” I felt like if I didn’t have this first post-divorce date, I might never have any. Luckily my co-workers were nice enough to cover for me.

The date was so so. I was incredibly nervous. We met at Pipa, and I was the only one drinking. Who agrees to meet for drinks and then doesn’t drink?

He was pretty nice, and I went out with him twice more. But by the third date, I knew he wasn’t for me. I just wasn’t attracted to him. He was barely taller than I was, had a paunchy face, a paunchy belly, and arms that jiggled like an old lady’s. I mean, my triceps were more toned.

I liked Tobey the acupuncturist much more. I met him through speed dating. It was my friend’s idea, and for some reason I had to pose as her sister’s friend. It was her sister and this friend who had the membership; otherwise it’d have cost us some fee (probably not a lot).

The first guy I talked to worked for a competing pharmaceutical company. That was weird. But he was very nice with lovely manners, and attractive despite his “Gordon Gekko hairstyle,” as my friend put it. I can’t really remember who else I talked to; the guys start to merge together with the one other speed dating event I attended.

When I talked to Tobey, no sparks flew. In fact I thought he was gay, as did my friend. But then when we shifted partners, and my new guy was a complete weirdo who said nothing even after the bell rang, Tobey caught my eye and laughed, and I thought, Wow, he’s cute!

On our first date we ended up making out in a bar, something I’d never done before. He was an excellent kisser. But even by the second date, I sensed some weirdness about him. He already seemed distant and too in himself (probably a sign of depression).

One Sunday I didn’t have anything to do, so I called him to see if he wanted to hang out. “Oh, um, maybe,” he said. “What would we do?”

“I dunno,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” I began to regret my calling him. “You can say no, you know. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay. We can hang out. If you want.”

Gee, thanks.

We had a very nice time, and at the end of the night, he said, “I wish you could stay,” but I still felt weird. Another time I invited him to a friend’s improv show, and again he had a strange response: “Where is it?”

I wasn’t sure. Midtown maybe?

He hemmed and hawed, and said he’d think about it. In my mind, I took this as a no.

Later he called and said he felt bad about his response, that he should have said yes right away.

“Only if you want to go,” I told him. I had been disappointed that he seemed to not want to, but that was that. Now he was saying yes because he felt guilty?

“And about dim sum on Saturday,” he said. “You can invite your friends if you want.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked. Dim sum was a date – why would I want my friends there? I did not get this guy at all.

We ended up not going to my friend’s show (I was feeling lazy), and dim sum was fun. But things still felt not quite right.

His birthday came up around this time, and I got him a gift certificate to a spa near his apartment. He told me all about the birthday party he was having, yet didn’t invite me. We hung out one more night, he chucked me under the chin, and then I never heard from him again.

Yeah, dating really sucked.

When I watched TV, I didn’t really want to be reminded of my own life. That was why I turned away from SATC and became obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Gilmore Girls. I’ll take ass kicking slayer and living in Stars Hollow over dating any day.

crazy stuff my mom says / family / rant and/or rave — 4 Comments
15
Jan 10

My mother strikes again

Now that my mother doesn’t have to worry about MB and me living in some one-room hovel that exists only in her imagination, she’s looking for other things to worry about. Like cooking, or my lack thereof.

“Why don’t you cook for MB once in a while?” she asked earlier this week during an otherwise perfectly pleasant conversation.

Now. I make maybe four dishes: stir-fried tofu (which I suppose could be replaced with chicken or pork), salmon in a soy sauce-brown sugar marinade, pasta and meat sauce (seasoned ground beef + jar of whatever sauce I happen to have), and a curry beef concoction made up of, yet again, ground beef, instant Japanese curry sauce, and carrots and potatoes, served over rice. Of course there’s also instant Korean noodles with tofu and veggies, but even I won’t count that as cooking.

Basically what I’m saying is on my own, I won’t starve or have to do takeout every night. I can get by.

But making one or more of those dishes for someone else? I don’t think so.

“It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t taste good,” my mother went on. “It would be a nice thing for you to do. It would make things, you know. . .better for you two.”

Better how? Will MB suddenly start seeing me as a valuable asset? “I can’t get rid of her now! She cooks!” I know what she means: it would make me better. Through cooking I can earn my keep and prove my worth. Why else would MB want to keep me around? Cuz he loves me? Naaah.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with cooking something for someone you love, IF you want to do it. And I’m not against bettering my culinary skills. But doing it to fulfill some stereotypical role and because my mother says so makes me want to do it even less. In fact, it really annoys me. Here is my mother yet again foisting her value set on me, and asking me to live up to expectations that have nothing to do with me, MB, or the lives we lead.

We think of ourselves as partners. We divide the work. He cooks, does repairs, and lifts anything heavy. I wash the dishes, do the laundry, and take care of the general up-keep and organization of the apartment. The important thing is we share the work – who cares who does what?

So will I ever cook for MB? Maybe, if the mood strikes. But if my mother asks again? I may have to lie and say I made some fancy dish, just to see her reaction.

Angela Tung Oversharing on the internet since 2005.