A good reader

I've come to the realization that I'm a much better reader than a writer. I have not blogged in weeks but I've added at least 7 new blogs to my Favorites tab on my old school but dependable PC.

I'd like to say the spirit hasnt moved me in a while but the real reason is that I got locked up in prison and I got my hand chopped off a la T-Bag. But never fear, I scored some batteries from my guy in Kitchen and swiped a pillow case and beat the living daylights out of the birdie who decided to sing about my recently acquired contraband hidden in my toilet. As it turns out, I had the wrong snitch so I've been doing everything I can to get my ass to solitary so I wont be jumped in yard. The DOC out here is corrupt but if I can swing a couple weeks of good behavior, I could be in out in 20.

Ohhhh....I'm sorry. Did I mention that I'm completely enthralled with Prison Break? Not familiar? Well you should be. Otherwise I've got a shank with your name tattoed on it.

Getting High with Odd Thomas

One of my fellow bloggers has taken to mentioning Dean Koontz and this book Odd Thomas for quite some time so I decided to take him up on it and read the damn thing. I liked it. I liked it alot. Not only do I love Koontz references to classic literature (William Blake, hells yeah) but the story is masterfully crafted. Great, now I sound like a pretentious asshole.

Anyway, this isnt a book review. If you like good stories, I recommend it. However, this is about getting high. No, for those of you out there who dont me, I didnt really get high. Unless you consider reading a quality book akin to the hallucinogenic high that comes from smoking herb, then yes, I did get high on good literature.

I checked out Odd Thomas from the library and have been reading it straight for a week and half now. Except for the occasional Arrested Development show, it has become the essential part of my daily bedtime routine. Brush. Floss. Wash Face. Curl up with Thomas. With 100 pages left to go, I realized that the book was due today. With a break from work, I decided to plop myself on my deck with a glass of water, cigarettes and the steely resolve to finish Odd Thomas before noon.
After 50 pages or so, I knew the goal was in sight. Thomas has just discovered a body and...well, I wont ruin it but it was a good, good part. As I flip to the next chapter I spot something pressed into the creases of the book. It was green with a slight hint of orange. At first I thought, oh great, a booger. Thats rich. And original. Some idiot didnt like the book so he picked his nose and left his nasty green gooze in between the pages for people like me to find.

Looking closely, I realized it was not a booger. It lacked the sticky consistency of a booger. Rather than attach itself to my finger, this "booger" crumbled like the Walls of Jericho. Because, like all humans, we have a fascination with all things gross, I began to poke and prod and like a 3 year old kid, I let some of this "booger" linger on my finger and slowly drew it up to my nose.

The distinct smell of mary jane hit me square in the face and I think I may have accidentally snorted a piece of it in nose during my "holy crap, its weed" reaction. I picked at it some more and noticed the small trappings of weed crammed into the spine of the book. I laughed. The idea of some high school pothead reaching the climax of Oddie's story, freaking out and promptly rolling a doobie to offset the drama is, in fact, hilarious.

Curious to find out more, I flipped through more pages and noticed small specks of greenery lining the spine of the next several pages. Wanting be a 100% percent sure of my discovery, I jammed the book into my nose, inhaling and exhaling that rotting skunk smell. This was weed all right. Real cannabis.

Still reeling, I finished the book. I'm about to return it to the library this afternoon and part of me would love to walk up and say, "Excuse me, but someone left some weed in this book, its not me, but I thought you should know." Or "I believe some lowlife street thugs are using this paragon of literature to traffic drugs."

Perhaps I'll just quietly slip the book into the large steel dropbox and leave it for the next patrons. Maybe a little high will brighten their day.

Are you Pregnant?

For some reason, I've been having a insane fear that someone will ask me that question. They will catch me wearing one of those empire waist dresses (that are oh-so-comfortable and my current summer wardrobe of choice) and my belly will slip through and then they will utter those three words. Ridiculous, right?

Now, I'm not pregnant in any way, shape or form, nor do I wish to be pregnant at this juncture of my life. And I'm not fat...but not skinny. Healthy is a word I like to use. Perhaps this fear of the question is only, as my friend TV Girl says " projecting negative body image issues" onto to my perfectly normal sized figure, but still, I'd like to be prepared should someone decide to get nosy. So, I've come up with a few responses to the question.

-"No. But I love what they've done with your face. How long ago was the surgery?"

-"No. Its only a boob job gone completely awry."

-"No. I have the largest tumor known to man and I've got 3 months left to live."

-"Yes. No thanks to your husband."

-"No. I have stomach cancer. Thanks for bring it up. You are a bastard."

-"Ohh my gosh, I am...what the...who the...." (followed by intense wailing and crying and falling down on the ground)

Best Wedding EVER.

This past weekend, my roommate of almost 6 years got hitched. To a great guy. My roomie and her new mother-in-law have the same name. First and last. Random factiod. I guess its true that guys want to marry girls like their mothers. Or maybe not. Either or, it was amazing, beautiful, fun and all around the best party I've ever attended. I was trying to think of how to write about the wedding when I noticed Fort Knock's post so you can go ahead and read it there.

There a few details that do not apply to me but its still a spot-on description. I probably shouldnt be riding on his coattails and write something original but I'm just too tired. Why beat a dead horse? Does that saying even apply?

Either way, my newly nuptialized friend is swimming on a beach in Mexico and I wish her all the best. Thanks for everything.

Going to the Chapel...

So B is getting married in T minus 2 days. I dont really have any idea what the whole T-minus thing means but it sounds very official. I'm standing up at the wedding (meaning in it) so I had to get a dress. A black one. And I did. It was all very last minute and worked out perfectly reminding me that my penchant for getting things done at the last minute is still working in my favor, at least for the time being.

However, I decided to come home to shop for this particular dress because I wasnt having any luck in Chicago (aka. didnt really look hard enough). Something about shopping in my own hometown where I dont have to pay for parking or get accosted by tons of other out of towners coming to the BIG CITY to do the whole shopping thing relaxes me and gives me the space and time I need to do this thing I usually abhore. Plus, my mom can come with me. And we always have a good time. In fact, I do have a particularly funny story about the two of us shopping for some new brasierres but since part of the readership of this blog is male, I dont know if its appropriate to tell the story. Oh what the heckfire, I'll tell it anyway.

Nanny Diaries

So my nanny job is coming to an end. In fact, tomorrow will be my last day. I know what you are all thinking: "Man, that was fast." And I bet I know your next thought: "Does this mean more funemployment?" Unfortunately no, funemployment has been replaced with wedding craze which begins a week from Saturday and continues through September. A note to my friends seriously dating someone, please dont get married until at least after Christmas.

Anyway, today is Thursday which is usually a soccer night. My little man, T, now knows that Thursdays are soccer nights so every Thursday he asks me: "Asiankp, are you going to fall down in your game tonight?" The reason for this question is that 3 weeks ago Friday I showed up with a pretty big scar on my leg when some wanna-relive-my-athletic-days-Lincoln Park-ex-frat boy tripped me. I told T I fell in the game. For the last couple weeks leading up to today, T has dropped hints about me trying to run without falling and wearing pillows on my legs for when the bad people come to hurt you.

So today our conversation:

T: Asiankp, are you going to try not to fall in your game tonight?

KP: Well, lucky me, we dont have a game tonight T.

T: Why? Because you always fall?

KP: No, because we lost our last game...it was the playoffs and we lost in the very last second.

T: (pause) Well, at least you wont have to feel clumsy tonight.

I have NO idea where he picked up that word and equated it with me falling and well, I guess some of my genius is rubbing off on him.

Shun the Non-Believers

Unicornicopia lives.

For those of you too lazy to click:

'Unicorn' deer is found in Italian preserve

A deer with a single horn in the center of its head — much like the fabled, mythical unicorn — has been spotted in a nature preserve in Italy, park officials said Wednesday.
"This is fantasy becoming reality," Gilberto Tozzi, director of the Center of Natural Sciences in Prato, told The Associated Press. "The unicorn has always been a mythological animal."
The 1-year-old Roe Deer — nicknamed "Unicorn" — was born in captivity in the research center's park in the Tuscan town of Prato, near Florence, Tozzi said.

I got new posters for my new room

This one for my love of Chicago and my recent love for Devil in the White City. Havent read it? Read it.

This one for my love of the novel and my love for Atticus Finch.

Obamamania.

So this Obama fellow...he's taking over my city. And its annoying. And believe me, its not just because of the politics. I mean, whether you are a Democrat, Republican, white, black, red, yellow, anytime the media/television/print world focuses on just one, singular thing, its annoying. However, since the man has secured the Democratic nomination, perhaps the public will be granted a reprieve for at least a few weeks. I fear it will only be weeks and not months and years like I hope.

Another pseudo-celeb dominating the print world is R. Kelly. My commuter newspaper, The Red Eye has a little feature called Trial Watcher. Basically it gives updates on the Kelly case and serves to annoy the living daylights out of me. Now you could say, "Asiankp, just ignore it and move on" but since I am a bit OCD and have to read EVERY part of the paper ( I just do, I can't explain it) having to read verbatim cross-examinations is about as fun as getting teeth pulled. On a side note, the Red Eye calls itself a sib of the Trib. Whatever, it's more like the bastard child of the Trib's second cousin.

So beside R. Kelly and Obama, whats up with all this rain? Floods and more floods and tornados??!!

Something is rotten in the state of Illinois.

Life Lessons

Never judge a book by its cover.

I know its an old adage that you've heard from your parents, grandparents, teachers, condescending friends and pretty much any person who likes to lord stuff over you.

But, I have to be honest. Its really very true. And nothing is more sobering than realizing the annoying and obnoxious things that some of your peers say are, suprisingly, the troof. The real troof. I say troof because my ego doesnt allow me to write the actual word. To do so would be to admit to actually learning something from someone else and owning up to the fact that, on a rare occasion, Asiankp is wrong.

So back to the judging the book. I'll start small. A certain friend has been hinting that I should watch a certain television program. She is an accomplished writer and television reviewer and has a number rating system for the various shows that she watches with 10 being life changing and 1 being really not worth a damn and you might actually be dumber for watching the show. October Road falls into this category. But I'll not go into that. She surprised me for a visit about 2 weeks ago and brought along the first season of what is now at the top of Asiankp's list. Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose.

I'll admit, when I first heard about this show, I was tempted. A visit home and my dad's support for the show quickly kiboshed any hopes I had of getting in too deep. I mean, come on, my dad's favorite show is American Idol. How can I trust that? After that, I got too involved with other stuff like looking for a job, blogging and seeing how many movies I could watch in one day, that my interest was nothing more than lint in the dryer. When she told me to watch it, I put it off and put it off and procrastinate and procrastinate. Finally, I relented. If the girl could fly over 300 miles in one day to visit me, she had to be on to something. Let me say, I was wrong. The show is above and beyond what I expected and has my full support and my undying love.

But this is not about my unhealthy obsession with things on the small screen. This story only reminds me of another story where my prideth went before the falleth. Almost a year ago, I embarked on a trip to NYC to see a holy man. I went with 3 close friends. Another girl who was an acquaintance of one in my party was going to meet up with us for a few hours. Now, I had met said girl a couple times before. She was a model. Yes, a model. A runway model. She was no Gisele or Tyra or Heidi but give her a few years and she could be. Lets call her Gitydi.

Regardless, I scoffed at her. I scoffed at her profession and what she was like even though I had only spent about a total of 5 minutes with her and I never directly spoke to her. In fact, I made it a point to avoid her and try to throw withering and judgmental looks her way. When everyone else told me that Gitydi was the nicest girl and so down to earth and really cool in a grounded way, I laughed and said, sure and Hitler was misunderstood. Which didnt really make sense then and doesnt make much sense now either.

So the idea of spending a couple hours in the presence of Gitydi in NYC, her mecca, I assumed, was less than thrilling. I did the brat act for the entire 4 hours before meeting up with her. Throwing out mean comments, being snotty. Basically, I reverted back to the age of 5 when mom and dad wouldnt play the game I wanted to. Here were my friends forcing me to hang out with someone who was going to be perched on a high horse and flaunting her beauty in our faces. Of course, no normal human does that unless you are on a reality show but I firmly believed in the theory that the pretty girls are always mean and bitchy.

To make a long story short, after smoking all my cigarettes and calling all the people I could so I wouldnt have to go and sit with all those adoring Glamazons, I reluctantly headed into the Starbucks and took a seat across from Gitydi. Immediately after sitting, Gitydi focuses her attention on me, "So Asiankp, so-and-so says that you are interested in casting? Thats so great..." I cant really recall the entire conversation but let's just say she was down to earth, friendly, unassuming and perfectly normal. Not to mention that the girl was just plain nice. I learned that she was a few years younger than the rest of us and had a hard time struggling to remain modest and grounded in a profession that does its best to make the polar opposite. We chatted for a few more hours and she even held her own when I threw my sarcastic, dry humor her way.

When we left, I turned to my friend and said, "Never again. Never again will I pre-judge. This was a great lesson. Dont ever let me do this again." So here I am, ashamed to say that I have to remind myself of that mantra again. And not just with TV shows but with life. I like to walk down Michigan Ave, past big groups of people carrying Abercrombie bags and Burberry purses and I like to pass judgements. But who knows whats going on behind those bags and purses. Maybe they are for a friend or maybe they have tastes just like I have certain tastes and while those tastes may not seem normal, they exist to make us each individual.

So there is power in those old sayings. The truth can set you free.

Holiday

Yesterday was Memorial Day, making last weekend Memorial Day weekend and consequently one of the most emotional weekends of my life. Okay, so thats a bit dramatic but still, it was emotional. My roommate of over 6 years left for Beantown. I can only say that the night was drowned in a giant pool of gin and tears. Okay, no gin. Asiankp seems to have hit some sort of alcoholic barrier. ANYWAY, as a result of my long time friend leaving, I was having a phone conversation with another great friend who lives many many miles away and casually said, "Hey, you should come to Chicago this weekend." Lo and behold, the next day she texts me saying, "My flight gets in at such and such a time at O'Hare." HOLY. MOTHER. AMAZING. Said friend and I had an absolutely fabulous time, chilling, smoking, talking, walking, marveling at all the "famous Chicago landmarks" and just catching up and enjoying the company of a good friend who knows you so well that you finish eachothers sandwiches. Thank you friend! It meant more than you know.

Unfortunately, the little peeps that Asiankp has been watching have been sick so, natch, Asiankp caught the bug and was sick for a majority of the weekend. Said friend braved this all like a champ and even had comforting words for my sickly soul.

So that was my weekend. It was also nice because long time roommate and her fiance made their trip to Beantown safe and sound and in one piece. Oh, did I mention that I finished it up with a little Chicago by the sea sailing trip and some delish BBQ pork?

Fear of the Drool

Okay, so I know that babies who are teething drool. All the time. No really, all. the. time. I know its painful for them and its very messy and one of those things in life that can't be avoided and something we all experience but when I have to change Baby X's outfit 3x in one day because of the drool, I wonder if something is off. By the by, Baby X is the name I'm giving to the ADORABLE baby I nanny for. This is to protect my own rear end and so in the future, she can never google herself and find that her old crazy nanny wrote all about her baby days on the world wide interweb.

Back to the drool...it doesnt just cover the front of her onesie right under her chin. It covers the ENTIRE front of the onesie and, like a sponge soaking up water, it keeps seeping in so much so that it forms a rather perfect oval down the front of the onesie. If someone saw her, they would say, "Why did someone pour water all over that baby in the shape of a giant egg?" Seeing as I have to do the kids laundry once a week, changing the outfit 3x in one day does not bode well for me.

However, the face that she makes when I give her that baby Tylenol is so freakin cute that I can't help but forgive her for wiping her snotting nose and drool stained face all over my shirt and pants.

Do Yo' Chain Hang Low?

So, I'm not sure why but this video cracks me up. Animal showed it to me and I must say, she has good taste. I dont know if the butchering of the nicey nice children's song or just the teeth on this mutha but its worth it.

Sounds of Summer

I love summer. It's my birthday season and the weather is nice and you can dine al fresco and you could barbecue everyday and there are lots of people out and you can wear sundresses and did I mention the weather is nice? I have a rather obsessive personality and I love to pick a song for the summer, a song that I can constantly replay over and over until my roommates kill me and forever and ever amen, I'll always have this song to remind me of the summer of 08. Anyway, this was last years anthem:



It's Drive Somewhere by the Vuglar Boatmen.

Anyway, here is Summer Anthem of 2008 for Asiankp. Its an oldie but a goodie and even though everyone and their mom will be like, "Oh Asiankp, that song is so old" I dont care because thats just like, your opinion, man.

2008 Summer Anthem: Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John

Samantha Who? I love you.

I am aware that the premise of this show is rather sophomoric and borderlines on a fluffier Sex and the City wannabe but for some reason, I really enjoy it. I dont know if its seeing Barry Watson onscreen again (Oh Matt Camden...) or the resurrection (?) of Christina Applegate's career but the show makes me laugh and regardless of the predictable plots, its like biting into a crab rangoon. It looks a little weird on the outside but oh so tasty and delicious and something you can count on in times of need.

Damn. I'm just not as good on the metaphors as TV Girl.

A Picture is Worth...

I noticed in previous posts, I had pictures. They were fun and it adds a fun aesthetic to the blog to those folks who are too tired to read or too lazy to scroll down. I've been there. So, I'll post a recent photo. I got a haircut and the glasses are fo' real.

Little Irks

So I went for a run today. I'm trying this new thing called exercising to increase the endorphins to my brain and make me a happier, healthier person. But dont worry, I've still got the cigarettes if all else fails.

Anyway, as I was in shower after my run, for some reason, a draft was entering the bathroom and the shower liner kept sticking to my body. This is annoying on many levels. One, I cannot properly clean my body when there is a nasty old shower liner sticking to it. Two, everytime I swatted it off, it kept coming back on a completely different part of the body. Third, I tried to direct the shower head to keep a steady stream of water pushing the liner against the tub eliminating the stickiness problem but since the shower head was spraying in the direction of the liner, I had to get closer to the liner to stay under the water bringing me in contact again with the dreaded liner. I know there are starving children in India and thousands of Chinese students suffering from an earthquake and here I am, bitching about my shower liner. I am aware that my priorities are out of line here but seriously, this liner problem is just one of those things that irks me. Its like a misquito bite that wont go away and can't be cured with Benadryl.

We all have those things in our lives. Those little annoyances that, in the large scheme of things, are not worth it at all but they still just bother us enough to make us stand up and take note but not big enough to go on a crusade. Sometimes, they bother us just enough to write an entire blog post on.

Here are a few others:
-There are 6 steps from the street level to the door of my apartment. My mailbox is located next to my door. For some reason, my postman refuses to walk the stairs and leaves our mail in our neighbors mailbox on the street level. This annoys him, me and the rest of the residents of the 1713 block. Plus I dont want Jimmy to know which magazines I'm subscribing to.

-When other people open your mail. I am a Netflix member and a majority of the movies I get are for the apartment. However, please refrain from opening the envelopes until I get there. For two reasons: one, you (and you know who you are) consistently rip the return envelopes in the wrong way and refuse to follow directions and two, I dont want to be subject to explaining my movie choices to a judgmental, un-informed movie police.

-Leaving laundry. This is a minor detail. It happens to the best of us. But seriously, if you throw a load in knowing full well that you are leaving for the afternoon and the better part of the evening, where is the logic in that? Granted it is not hard for me to put your clothes in the dryer but what about when I accidently shrink your favorite mu-mu or have to sort through some questionable stained underwear or your wide array of colorful thongs? Awkward level: HIGH. And for the record, this applies to more than one person.

So, what bothers you?

NO STANDING

You know those signs...the ones around big cities usually situated right below a streetlight that say "No standing." Well, yeah, those signs. I'm not exactly sure what they mean. I guess they refer to cars double parking and no standing/waiting/being an asshole and parking in a non parking area. Well, the point I'm trying to make is that I dont like those people who turn those signs into photo ops. You know the type. They take pictures while standing under the no standing sign and give a goofy grin and point at the sign. Hohohoho. So funny.

Granted, when I was in London, they have this fabulous tradition of painting directly on the street saying LOOK LEFT or LOOK RIGHT. I have a picture of me looking left making the goofy face and pointing at the street. But give me a break. I was in Europe, I was in college, I was probably drunk.

Anyway, those people give me ulcers. It's been a rough week here in Asiankp land. There is some stuff going down with the folks at home and my little charges keep me busy and tired. And there is the festival that I'm assistant producing that closes this weekend. All in all, I'm looking for a break.

This post is mindless and half rant and half update. I'm going to quit now because I'm giving myself an ulcer.

Evitetation

Evites are funny things. Speaking from experience, my dealings with Evite are mostly love/hate. I love how easy it is to send information about a party to millions of people and then how easy it is for them to invite other people and pretty soon you have a party of 1 billion. Okay, so thats never really happened. Yet.

But, I hate the essence of the evite. I hate the colors they choose and the themes and the whole ridiculous responses and the layout and even that you have to register. Of course I am one of those people who tries to come up with witty replies to my evite rather than the standard, website provided crap responses. Maybe its the impersonal personal nature that I love/hate. Getting handwritten invitations to events are flattering and look pretty but they cost money and then you have to pay for postage. Evites are free. And you can feel a bit like Big Brother because as an administrator, you can see who looked at the evite and how many times they looked at it and then you can send mean, nasty emails to your friends saying, "WTF? Why havent you responded to my evite?"

However, you can't tape an evite to your fridge and then everytime you go to get milk or cream or ham, you can't be reminded of the fun bridal shower you have to go to in 2 weeks. Well, technically you could tape it to your fridge but honestly, who would do that?

Here's one thing I know...it is NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES ACCEPTABLE TO SEND WEDDING INVITATIONS VIA EVITE. I think its important to reiterate this cultural and perhaps moral wrong because with the way technology is creeping into our everday lives, some sucker out there is bound to send one. Dark days indeed.

Burn ouuut

So Ive started my nanny job and lets just say: it's interesting. Not what I expected, could be worse, kids arent terrible, over in a month and half. It will be another fun, random chapter to the Asiankp Book of Life. I figure it will come right after the chapter on "Summer Job at the Stadium: Surviving Verbal Molestation" and before "I'm Never Having Children."
Kidding. I hope I dont have that chapter. But you never know. I may be so burned out on another people's kids that I wont even be able to consider my own brethren.

However, today we went to the park which happens to be near a school. Since its a school in the middle of the city, they use the public parks as the playground. Sure enough, when noontime rolled around, I heard screams and high pitched yells coming from the school. Suddenly a horde of plaid jumper wearing kids attacked us. This was fine and my litle charge, T, seemed to enjoy his sudden company. Of course, these 30 or so students were accompanied by only 2 teachers. And these teachers seemed to be more interested in their footwear than watching the kids. But I digress. I watched T, grateful that I had chosen a bright orange fleece as outerwear which clearly set him apart from the other plaid skirt and tie-wearing youngsters swarming him.

I heard some minor taunting behind me and turned to see a group of 6 boys surrounding a young girl. They must have been about 10 or 11. They followed her around the park, shouting her name and forming suffocating half circles and when she tried to escape they closed in tighter and laughed at her. This continued for about 10 minutes and it was clear that the young girl was growing more and more agitated. Finally, the boys cornered her into those orange tubes (you know the ones) and trapped her in from either side, pounding on the top and shouting. I began to feel a bit sorry for the girl and looked to the teachers to do something. Sure enough, there they were looking at their feet. I started to head over there, determined to do something and slightly aware that this was not my place. About 10 steps from the tube, I heard a whistle and the boys' heads cocked to one side and they scattered as quickly as they had gathered and joined the other kids forming a line out of the park. The girl crawled slowly out of the tube and looked around for her predators. She breathed a sigh of relief, shot me an embarrassed look and took up the last place in line. She stood apart from the other kids and shuffled her feet back and forth, keeping her head down. I watched her shoulders hunch over as she made her way back to the school.

I'm not sure what I witnessed but I can tell you that if I see that happen again, I wont hesitate next time.