I hate the sound of my own voice

Today at work, I had to transcribe an audio interview and I caught myself speaking on tape. The worst part is my first reaction was, "Who the hell is that man? I didn't know there was another guy on the tape?" My next reaction was, "What is that weird screeching?" My final reaction was, "I am officially depressed. I sound like a screeching man."

You Call that Poetry...

As a conscientious blogger, I am constantly trying to hone my craft or develop a voice or make my blog worth reading. I make a point to peruse other blogs in the hopes of developing a criteria upon which to base or rate my own. This research is rather hard to do because the only internet connection I have is at work and since at work, I get paid to do work, blog research is not high on my list of priorities. But my dedication to the blogging world trumps all...even money and so I squirrel away some precious moments of the day to read other blogs. I read them all. The good, the bad, the ugly and the fugly. My favorites are the ones in narrative form, the ones that capture the everyday humor and joy of being alive. The uglies are the ones who wax philosophical on Bush and the government. One blogger has even gone far enough to give our President the title, "Bushtard." It appears that someone has not gotten over 2nd grade. I mean, come on, bushtard….that’s not even clever. But aside from these playground insults, the fuglys are the ones where "educated" people talk about how Michael Moore documentaries are mini-history lessons on our government. Michael Moore is a successful filmmaker, I’ll give him that and he certainly knows how to make the system work in his favor. But the fugliest of the fuglies are the bloggers who include their “poetry.” Examples:

Salt pepper salt pepper salt pepper
Salt pepper salt pepper salt pepper
Pepper salt salt pepper pepper salt
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Pepper pepper pepper pepper pepper.
Salt pepper salt pepper salt pepper.

No joke. Granted, they did not use this combo of spices but you get the idea. Another example:

The butter was dripping down the chin
Like Niagra Falls
I wanted to lap it up
But alas, I am no corn on the cob
Eager to soak my outside skin in dairy
Unable to enjoy the taste.

They get worse.

Eating is
Murder

On hot days,
Swimming =fun and cool.

Wow. Poetic. FUGLY.

I can’t believe I’m making fun of people for using bushtard when I use the word fugly. Oh well. I guess anything goes in the blogging world.

My Recent Addiction

Before you judge me, check out my recent addiction and then you'll thank me.

Wedding Number 483579

Wedding season has begun and asiankp has already attended three as of today. Three down, 2 to go. Its not that asiankp doesnt enjoy weddings, its that weddings in itself are such a special occasion that if you have too much of it; it can, in time, decrease the importance of the event itself. It's like sugar. You love sugar and it tastes good but if you ate sugar every Saturday for a month, you would get sick of it. Your mouth would ache and your tastebuds would sue you. You would hate sugar for a good 2 months after that. So it is with weddings, one too many can make you forget about the importance of the day and the sacrament and all the other odds and ends that go into making a marriage such a rare and happy occasion in this day and age. Now, asiankp does consider it a true honor to be invited to a wedding, she loves cake and wine and buffet dinners. I just wish sometimes I had 3 or 4 months to recover from the last one. Like I said earlier, cranberry and vodka equals a crazy delicious hangover.

How Rude!

Wouldnt it be interesting if people wore rude monitors on their chests? No, hear me out. It would be like a badge that you wore on your chest and there were numbers or bars or some sort of tally of how many times you were rude to someone. Basically, it would be a super, ultra advanced computer chip that was inserted into your body. Every time a rude word or action escaped from your mouth or was performed by your body language, a loud siren would go off with some obnoxious voice saying, "You are being rude. You are being rude. Your rude level is now up to 100RAs/hour." RAs meaning rude actions. That would really stick it to people. Can you imagine if there was some sort of thing that categorized our actions like that...wow...I'm not a fan of Communism but how crazy would it be if the state required us all to wear these rude monitors in order to calculate how rude the American people are. I can see the studies now...Chicago ranks highest in the Rude People of America category with NY and LA a close second. Or maybe you could get all ethnic about saying, 25% of the rudest people are African-American while 50% of the rudest people come from Asian descent. You get the idea. And, to top that off, maybe some state or city can win "Nicest Citizens Award" and get a big check from the government to buy more rude monitors in order to beef up their tally of nice people and...I could go on and on...but of course, my monitor is at this moment, saying, "You are being rude. You are being rude. People do not want to read your mindless drivel about being rude." Then your monitor chimes in "You are being rude. You are being rude. You are not reading Asiankp's mindless drivel." Maybe what I envision as a positive change for the American people is merely a nusiance and a Socialist agenda. All I can say is, I'd like my rude awareness voice to sound like Janis Joplin.

NOT GO-

Part two of Asia trip saga.

So it turns out there are too many people going. I can't say I blame them. Who wouldnt want to visit the motherland? The CEO of the company looked at the roster...freaked out and made cuts. Its too bad they already bought my plane ticket...who knows, maybe I'll decide to take a little mental heatlh break this weekend and OMG, here is a plane ticket to Singapore sitting on my dresser. It's not a question of ethics. You see the ticket. It's paid for. You go. That would certainly make things interesting. The question is whether I would lay low, soaking up the darkest, dirtiest crevices of Singapore or waltz my way into the Hilton Singapore and demand to be put in the fantasy suite on behalf of my client. That might be a question of ethics.

To Go or Not to Go

I am supposed to go on a business trip to Asia. I have been prepping, planning, plotting, and all the other p words you can think of. Today, my boss emails and tells me I dont have to go. Now, I did not even know this was an optional trip. "Don't have to go" implies a choice. From those 4 words, I now have the option to choose whether or not to take a trip. Let's see...Asia for the week or another lackluster week of work in the old Chi-town. Asia and a 17 hour plane ride looks pretty good. However, my boss's meaning in the email is questionable. I may........

Business Wardrobe

Note to self: Even though you have the luxury of having a profession that allows you to wear whatever you want, it's always a good idea to have a few business suits in the back of your closet...just in case you have to go to Asia for a tradeshow on Saturday and you have absolutely no time to go shopping or get a business suit tailored before Saturday and you feel like your head is going to explode because you dont want to think about jetlag and you are absolutely swamped at work with pre-briefing documents and you've gained about 10 pounds in the last two weeks so your previous semi-professional wardrobe wont even fit anymore.

Just a simple note to self.

Your Blog is Boring

"Your blog is boring." Someone told me that the other day. This shocked me for two reasons: 1.) That someone is actually reading this blog and 2.) I thought the point of the blog was the content not the design so the statement stumped me on two levels: a) I'm a boring writer or b.) the layout and design of my blog is so utterly boring that even if the writing was good, the layout far overshadows any amount of credible writing that I've done.
So, I decided I should spice up the content. Maybe add some pictures...give 'em the old razzle dazzle. Unfortunately, I do not know how to add pictures nor do I know how to give 'em the old razzle dazzle. If anyone has leads on either of these things, please please pass them on...I'd prefer to know about the razzle dazzle before the pictures.

In order to spice up the content of the blog, if I am indeed the "boring writer," I thought I'd throw in these juicy words.

Sex. Drugs. Rock n' Roll.

Whose boring now?

Calling Operator...

I'm been on hold and my approximate wait time is 10 minutes. 10 minutes...now I have two options. 1.) Wait 10 minutes like a normal person. 2.) Hang up and call back in about 5 minutes, hoping that the wait time is suddenly shorter. 3.) Bitch and moan about waiting. Since I said there were only 2 options, I guess waiting 10 minutes like a normal person is totally out of the question. It's probably best to go with #2 although that involves a bit of naivete on my part and since #3 puts me on the world's worst customer list, I'd say a combination of #2 and #3 would probably work best. The problem is, how do I avoid #3 from taking over my life completely?

We are always waiting for something...at least I am and I'm getting kinda tired of anticipation. I mean, sometimes there is an element of fun in surprise and anticipation but lets be honest, most people want the info and they want it now. They want the boyfriend, marriage, kids and they want it now. We live in a selfish society and I argue that this is addled by customer service representatives telling you that they are "experiencing a high level volume of call" and that "we will be with you shortly." That is such a lie. They will not be with you any faster than you will get married and have babies if you use birth control or do not date at all. Makes sense? It doesnt even make sense to me, this drivel that I'm writing...you know why...because I was just asked to wait for 10 effin minutes. Somebody save Asiankp from herself.

Water, Water, everywhere

It has been raining so much lately. I kinda like it. Not only because it reminds me of Gene Kelly and Don Knotts, but because rain is cleansing. It wipes away blemishes and saves you a trip to the car wash to get rid of the bird shit on your car. Rain is useful for starving plants and countries driven dry by drought. But the best thing about rain is the smell. think i'm crazy...well, next time it rains, probably in a couple hours, get your olfactory nerves in gear, grab your umbrella, do your best Gene kelly impression and smell the damn rain.

2:03am

I just finished the last of 20+ emails to China. That would explain why I am up at this late hour. The better question is why in the heck am I still awake blogging about being awake. Because Asiankp is insane. Or perhaps she gets a wild rush communicating with the motherland. Yes, it is truly the former. I do recieve quite a rush communicating with my Asian brethren and I cannot wait to step foot in the land of my ancestors. Asiankp is coming home. Get the fried rice ready...

DENNIS TAR, HIGH SCHOOL TENNIS STAR!

GO. SEE. IT. NOW. and check out this wicked awesome review.