Zombie

Why zombie, you ask?  Well, yesterday, I was wandering around in a state of delirium.  It’s almost October, so it’s almost Halloween.  And, oh yes, I’ve been incommunicado in blogworld for too long, and I have come back from the dead! Wait.  Are zombies revived (well, not revived, as that would mean a new life, and they are quite unlike their original form, are they not?) from the dead?  Or what?  What is the provenance of zombies?  SOMEONE HELP ME!  I could ask the internet.  Wait.  I am asking the internet.

At any rate, quite a lot has transpired since I last updated.  Let’s see.  So, I was in Taiwan for much of the summer.  The first week, I visited my family.  My dad’s side lives in the mountains, and my mom’s side is in central Taiwan.  Then, I attended a language learning program sponsored by the Overseas Compatriot Affairs Commission (OCAC) for six weeks.  It’s for people who (theoretically) have some sort of connection to Taiwan, aged 18-24.  They’re the same people who run Loveboat (not it’s official name, which I think is Formosa Camp), which is kind of like the Taiwanese version of Birthright, if you know about that.

I’ll have to come back later and upload more Taiwan pictures.  JP’s sister, Cathy, noted that her impression of Taiwan was that it was very lush, and that was exactly the word that came to mind when I got to see the natural scenery.  Most of my time was spent in Taipei, though, which is all hustle and bustle.

When I returned from Taiwan, I had about two and a half weeks to pack for Ohio.  Oh yes, I have returned to the motherland.  Well, the non-Taiwan motherland.  Is your motherland where you were born, or where your mother was born?  And if the latter, then what if your mother and father were born in two different places?  Would it therefore be more accurate to have both a motherland and a fatherland?  I think Mik has some kind of Latinate terminology for such things.  I am no Latinist; nor am I a Hellenist.  Digression!  (Everyone but Mik should get that reference…)

At any rate, my parents set out from California on September 5, opening day of college football!  Luckily, both the Bears and the Buckeyes handily defeated their respective opponents.  (And sadly, are both one-loss teams now.)  We stopped in Salt Lake City, Denver (got to see Katie!), and St. Louis, before arriving in Columbus.  I’ll have to write more about that journey later; for now, let’s just note that, between sleeping and failing at life, I missed every state border crossing except for Ohio.  The heart of it all :D

What I really want to talk about today is something that happened this past Saturday night.  I’ve emailed this story to a couple people already, so I’m copy/pasting here.  Then, I’ll update at the bottom.

***

Cast of characters:
me
Natalie (my friend Peter’s friend, goes to OSU, is nice and showing me around)
Anna (their other friend from high school, just met her tonight)
8 guys who live in a house together (Kirk and Dusty are brothers, Jesse, and Ben are the relevant ones to this story)

Evening: at a bar. Nothing particular to note.

After: back to the guys’ place. It’s raining, so I walk fast. And that, I believe is how I manage to stay dryer than the other two girls do. I think. Or, you know, I’m a duck and repel water. OOH after this weekend’s game, I don’t think I should be making duck references. *Sigh* Anyway. A bunch of them smoke, so we sit on their porch and hang out, while away the hours, &c. Ben turns on the music from their roof and disappears. Mid-conversation, there is a loud CRASH. Uh-oh, car accident on their streetcorner. Dusty and Anna rush over to make sure people are ok. There are two cars involved, but a food delivery guy had just gotten to the guys’ place, so he pulled over to the side, and some good Samaritan also pulled over. Meanwhile, Dusty, Anna, and some other passersby make sure the people in the crash are doing ok and divert traffic. (All of a sudden, a bunch of cars, cabs, and pedestrians are trying to get through the previously-quiet intersection.)

Kirk goes upstairs to turn the music off, because Lady Gaga or something similar is, you know, probably not appropriate. Dusty and Anna are still on the street when the cops finally arrive, but then their statements are apparently not needed. I’m not sure what the procedural due process is for this, but I guess the driver of one car jumped out of her car immediately and started admitting fault/apologizing/&c. By the way? The driver of the other car lost a tooth and his passenger had something wrong with his neck. So, we sit on the porch and watch the police stand around, then start to interview only the people in the cars, not the passersby. The paramedics come and have to carry the second passenger away on a stretcher. Yeesh.

Meanwhile, Jesse doesn’t know why the music is off, so he turns it back on. As we’re all watching the street, every official’s head whips around toward us and they all say, “TURN IT OFF!” Kirk goes to make him turn it off again. The processing continues for awhile, until finally everyone leaves except for one squad car. The two police officers come to the porch and say, “Everyone get your IDs out.”

Uh, what?

The officers each go to one of the brothers; Kirk had been straightening up the porch and left his wallet on his seat, so when the police asked for his ID, the first thing he could find was his military ID. The officer seemed to think he was trying to get out of trouble by playing the serving-our-country card and was displeased. Dusty asked what was wrong, and the other officer started his tirade: “Did you SEE the accident happen in front of you? Police officers and paramedics need to be able to hear to do their job.” Dusty tried to interject, “We were trying to help…” but the officer cut him off, “I don’t care. It’s 3 in the morning, and everyone in a 50-block radius can hear you, you keep talking and we can cite you for any number of things…” He had taken Dusty’s ID, so Anna stood up (and Natalie and I were both going for ours, too) and asked, “Do you need to see my ID?”

The cop turned to her and brusquely demanded, “Do you live here?” And when she said no, he scoffed at her and said, “Then sit down and shut your mouth.” Um. Yes. America’s finest, ladies and gentlemen. They take the two IDs and go sit in their car, filling out their paperwork FOR A LONG TIME. We’re not sure if they’re just trying to make us sweat, or if it’s going to be a BFD. They then call Kirk over, who stands at the door and gets a long, angry lecture. He comes back with a citation. They then call Dusty over, and Kirk said that, among all the other things the police hurled at him, one of them said, “You can thank those girls up there for giving us lip.” EXCUSE ME?

It’s clearly not Anna’s fault, but she feels so bad that she is on the brink of tears, Kirk goes inside, clearly peeved but, you know, what can you do, and Dusty gets a much shorter lecture. The police finally pull away, seeming to have spent far more time trying to cite two brothers for something out of their control than actually surveying the accident.

GIVING THEM LIP!? EXCUSE YOURSELF!!! I’m definitely calling to file a complaint today. I don’t think it’ll do any good, but it needs to be on record that a) two men were cited for something they didn’t do (and I realize that there’s nothing my statement will be able to do about that) and b) the police officers treated all of us so rudely and unprofessionally.

***

So, I called the Department of Internal Affairs (sounds so serious!) and filed my complaint.  He didn’t take it very seriously, but he had to take it anyway.

Officer: So, he didn’t swear at you or anything?
Me: No.  And I realize, in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing compared to homicide.  But, it was rude and unprofessional.  You wouldn’t talk to your mother that way.
Officer: I would never compare this to speaking with my mother.
Me: That’s fine, but you simply don’t speak to people that way without giving the impression of rudeness.  Even had we been aggressive, which we were not, they would have been required to maintain their composure!

***

I don’t, in general, have “beef” with law enforcement.  We have systems.  All citizens, private or public, ought to do their best to uphold the reason and sanity of society.  The two police officers were out of line.

By the way?  It was Columbus PD, and the number on their squad car was 9041.  Keep an eye out for them, and if they’re nearby, I guess you’d better shut your mouth.

Totally predictable

Mik will yell, “Typical!” when I post this.

I would update, but I have to pee.  Sorry guys.  More to come when I go to Taipei :D

Good news

I have been remiss in posting, but here’s good news!  My travel buddy, Tiffany, a friend from high school, is not yet back in school.  That’s right, they don’t start until February!  Can you imagine!?  February. So, lucky for you (?), she has composed a guest post about our travels.  Without further ado…

Bonjour readers =) You are in for a treat today: a guest blog! This is Cindy’s good friend Tiffany and more recently, Cindy’s comrade on our fabulous trip to France. It was absolutely one of the best trips I have ever taken, and I highly recommend a trip to France to all those who have never been there. Heck, bring Cindy along too. Then you can relive my experience =P

So what is Paris like? Well, it is all Eiffel Tower, museums, coffee, bakeries, and shopping. Basically, everything anyone has ever told you about Paris. But despite all that I have ever heard, I still was not prepared for what Paris is really like. For one, it is a big city on a very small area of land. Walking from one end of Paris to the other, and I’m talking about edge of suburbia to other edge of suburbia, is definitely feasible if you’re willing to go on foot for probably 3 to 4 hours. Crazy right? I wouldn’t even dare dream about walking from one end of New York City to the other unless I had an entire day. French people are also an entire other aspect. Or maybe just people in Paris since those were pretty much the only French people I was exposed to. First of all, the French are not as rude as their stereotype. Or maybe I was just imagining egregious snubbing, in which case, it is not difficult to exceed expectations. Honestly, though, I found the French very friendly. They say hi to strangers, perhaps even more so than people in the United States. Then again, I’m so used to ignoring the people in my surroundings while at college that my personal experience is most likely a very terrible example to base off of. All I can say for myself is that I definitely said hi to more strangers in France than ever at home. Their fashion during the winter is definitely all drab, dark colors. Everyone in France wore black, gray, or dark shades, and that coupled with the rain, snow, and clouds was pretty dreary at first, but you get used to it. I’m sure it’s just a winter fashion thing because their spring lines came out while we were there, and the colors were definitely very spring-like.

Ok, enough about France for now; I don’t want to bore you ten sentences into this entry, so I’ll tell you about me and Cindy’s first, slightly amusing mishap. As a quick background, in France, Cindy and I stayed with a family friend of mine in a small suburb right outside of Paris called Issy les Moulineaux. It was actually a great location because we lived within 3 minutes walking distance of the train station. Train and subway is seriously the only way to get around Paris if you don’t want to walk, and the system is very good, though there are daily delays and quite a few “accidents.” I should probably also clarify the family friend aspect. We were actually staying at my mom’s friend’s ex-husband’s place in France. He’s definitely a character… Shu Shu is very cheap, as in frugal up to the point where it’s simply ridiculous. He’s been in France for the past year because his company in Taiwan sort of sent him out on this long-term business trip. I found him all at once to be absurd, amusing, annoying, and I guess my relation to him began and ended the same way after three weeks – acquaintances. I definitely relied a lot on Cindy to keep conversations going at breakfast or dinner. My Chinese is most definitely not as fluent as hers nor am I willing to maintain conversations, so Cindy was definitely a lifesaver. His wife, on the other hand, is really amiable and funny, so that was definitely a plus. Ok, but what of the mishap that I totally got off topic from? Alright. So it’s maybe three days into our trip and it’s something like 10 pm. I was lying in bed, about to sleep, and Cindy had just gone to the bathroom and was now brushing her teeth. A while later, she comes in and lies down, and we’re both laying there in the dark, listening to the toilet still run from flushing when Cindy then turns to me and asks, “Is the water still supposed to be running like that?” At the time, I was thinking the exact same thing because the water had definitely been running long enough to become noticeable. We both get up to inspect the toilet, and it must have been near midnight by now. I think we both might have been a bit nervous because we really couldn’t wake Shu Shu up to ask how to fix the toilet since it was late and he had work tomorrow. And besides, it’s kind of embarrassing having to tell your hosts that you broke their toilet less than a week in. It also didn’t help that it was at this most inconvenient time that I was beginning to remember that the other day, the drain on their bath tub was slightly clogged while I was showering. I mean, seriously, why not just pour on the bad news right? “Morning Shu Shu. Um… while you were sleeping, Cindy and I kind of broke the toilet, and your drain is now clogged. I kind of noticed it while showering last night.” It just would not have gone over well, especially since I suspect that the drain stoppage was due to mine and Cindy’s hair…

Anyway, Cindy and I decide to lift the ceramic cover on the back of the toilet. While she holds it up, I kind of start fiddling with the pipes and stuff inside. Eventually, we manage to get this central tube to disengage, and the water stops flowing and actually starts to accumulate in the tank. Hooray, we fixed it! Cindy puts the ceramic cover back on, and we happily go to the sink to wash our hands. Cindy picks up the bar of soap next to the sink and starts scrubbing her hands, and I offhandedly comment, “Oh, is that the soap you’ve been using?” She looks at me confusedly and responds, “Um, yes?” She then watches as I pick up this bottle on the other side of the sink with a blue clear-ish liquid, examining it while wondering aloud, “Wait, then what is this?” I turn around the bottle, which I had assumed was soap since it had the pumping type of nozzle, to read the label and was horrified to read something about daily facial cleansing something. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I’ve been using facial cleanser for hand soap!” Cindy proceeds to burst out laughing, and we hurry back to our bedroom. Not only do we manage to nearly break the toilet and clog the bathtub, but I had been using Shu Shu’s wife’s facial wash to wash my hands for the past few days. Cindy and I both agreed as we got back into bed that we would definitely not mention to them any of this, and we finally got to sleep a little before midnight.

Moral of this little story? None really. Just know that living with Cindy seriously isn’t that bad. There are definitely other tales I could regale you of Brussels, beer, and boys, but that might have to wait a bit as this story took a lot longer to write than expected. ~Tiff

Beware Internet Chat

4:15 PM me: hi
Cindy: hi.
4:17 PM this is what i see…
Punal is busy. You may be interrupting.
me: lol
oooo
oops
4:18 PM there
Cindy: hahahaha
who doesn’t?
4:19 PM me: exactly
wssup
Cindy: not too much
just getting ready to get ready to go out
haha
4:20 PM me: ohhhh
where u goingg
Cindy: what about you?
dinner with thursday plan, and then maybe a cookie party, and maybe a cocktail party
4:22 PM what are you up to?
me: im packing
:(
4:23 PM Cindy: ohhh
you’re leaving…the 26th?
4:24 PM me: 25th!!!
4:25 PM Cindy: OH
4:26 PM me: yeah!!!!
4:27 PM Cindy: um
should we hang out?
haha
4:28 PM me: haha
4:29 PM if you wanan come over tonight
after you come back
from whereever you going to
varsha si coming over
Cindy: ok!
i’ll give you a call to make sure it’s ok
4:31 PM me: haha
k coo
4:32 PM Cindy: yay
4:33 PM me: when r u going
Cindy: i’m not sure
my friend’s going to call me
4:34 PM me: haha
okok
4:35 PM Cindy: interested?
4:36 PM me: in ur firend?
who is he/she
Cindy: hahahaha no, interested in dinner
4:37 PM it’s thursday plan
zach
me: oh
naw i gotta hit the gym
wth my friend mohammad
at 7
lol
4:38 PM Cindy: seriously?
4:39 PM also, is mohammad muslim? do your parents know!?
me: haha
my parents know
and mohammad is muslim
are hardcore
*and
Cindy: uh oh!
4:44 PM me: haha
why
Cindy: trouble trouble
4:45 PM religious strife
me: haha
Cindy: so i think i need to try to seduce my genetics gsi
4:46 PM me: how?!
4:47 PM Cindy: idk…i mean, i’m not very seductive
maybe he likes small asian girls…?!
we can always keep our fingers crossed
4:48 PM me: hmm
why dont you try
Cindy: i’ll TRY
but i’m not seductive
4:49 PM me: yes you can be
purr
purr cindy purr
Cindy: wow
that’s quite possibly the most disturbing thing you’ve said to me!
5 minutes
4:55 PM me: lol
sorry
he he he
4:56 PM Cindy: haha
but yeah
i’ll have to talk strategy with you
when next semester commences
and i start working my…lack-of-game
4:57 PM me: oh
no worries
we will talk
and stategize
Cindy: he’s pretty nerdy
me: and etc etc
easy
Cindy: maybe it’ll work in my favor
4:58 PM hahahahaha
but what if i’m not smart enough?
5:00 PM *sigh *
too difficult
me: ur smart neough
cuz u will use MY brains
5:01 PM Cindy: hahahahahahhaa
punal
you basically just said that my brains aren’t enough
5:03 PM me: hahahahha
oops
i didnt mean that
Cindy: :P
you so did
5:04 PM me: hahaha
NOOO
Cindy: which is fine
it just means that we’d BOTH have to date rich
5:05 PM me: i mean
i am
lol
Cindy: wait?
what?
5:07 PM me: i do date rich
5:08 PM Cindy: his name is richard
me: richard!?
oh
RICH
OH
Cindy: => rich
me: i get it
haha
Cindy: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
me: i thot u emant
like
5:09 PM date wealthy
hahah
Cindy: ppbt!
:P
me: please put that on ur blog
lol
Cindy: HAHAHAHA you should
tonight
me: hahahahah
Cindy: i’ll come over
5:10 PM me: alrite fine
Cindy: and log you in
me: haha
kk
5:12 PM Cindy: :)
5:13 PM me: its pris happy birthday !
5:14 PM Cindy: aw yay!
are you guys celebrating?
5:15 PM me: she is in london
lol
so no
haha
Cindy: oh!
study abroad? pleasure?
5:16 PM me: i think pleaseure
before she goes to india
Cindy: oh! cool. how long will she be in india?
5:18 PM me: til
foroever
until school starts
haha
5:19 PM Cindy: aww
5:20 PM me: lol
Cindy: so my mom heard me on the phone with thursday plan just now
we were figuring out what to do for dinner
5:21 PM so she starts going, “we can all go to sweet tomatoes together!”
hahahahahahaha
me: LOL
oh wow
Cindy: that would be random as hell
5:22 PM me: haha
that would be awesome
Cindy: dude
i should bring him over to your house
duh
5:26 PM me: LOL
oh
wow
5:27 PM Cindy: so punal
you like to date rich, hm?
me: yes
i do
have a problem!?
5:28 PM Cindy: um yeah. because i want to date rich
hahahahahahaha
5:29 PM me: no
u want to date Rich
i just want to date rich
difference
thank you
come again
Cindy: hahahahahaha
come again? i sure hope so
5:30 PM ok i gotta go get ready
byyyye

Strange aroma

Ok, this is post number 98.  I didn’t mean for such a spate of posts to go up in one morning, but as I’m sitting here on my duffer, a lot of thoughts are coming to me!  Anyway, I’ve been sitting on the couch in my living room this whole time.  When I was calling the professor earlier, I smelled soap.  When I clicked “New Post,” I smelled coffee.  (I love the smell of coffee…just not the taste.)  But now, I’m smelling scrambled eggs.

Huh?  The only thing I can think of is pregnancy, but pregnant women have very sensitive olfactory glands, not schizophrenic, right?  Besides, Mik and I crack too many jokes about pregnancy as it is.  NB: It’s not that we make fun of pregnant women (or man, as the case may be).  We just have to pee a lot, that’s all.  Incidentally, if you click on that YouTube link, please disregard all the hateful comments.  It saddens me that all these people are devaluing a married couple’s relationship and their love of their child simply because one of them underwent a sex-change operation.

I don’t pretend to know much about “transgendered culture,” and I put it in quotation marks because I doubt that a bunch of people can all be lumped together that way.  Someone queried why any woman would want to marry a man who was once a woman.  Well, whenever you enter a new relationship, do you sort through all their baggage?  Or do you accept that you have a past, the other person has a past, and that together, you’ll create a future?

Perhaps more infertile women should consider marrying men who were born with female anatomy.  Sorry, that was flippant.  Incidentally, in my genetics class, we’ve been learning about the different permutations of sex chromosomes as well as the phenotypes that arise when you have an XX male (the paternal X carries SRY, or sex-determining region of Y) or XY female (the Y is SRY-).  There is so much biochemistry that already guides what we are that I don’t begrudge people their socio-anthropological differences, either.  I’m not sure if that last sentence made sense.  I’ll have to think on this.

At any rate, I just turned on “Regis and Kelly,” so I promise I’ll stop posting this morning!

Dang it…soapy smell again!

The Talk

As promised, today I bring you a guest post.  Let me introduce you to my friend, Getty, a fellow linguist.  His email said: Here was what I have written up – unedited, really, just the raw ramblings. Tell me if it ought to be longer or shorter or less weird or what. I’ve been reading a lot of Neal Stephenson, which has a lot of overstatement, and I’m pretty sure that showed up there.

As you’ll soon see, though, the best version is the un-edited version.  So, without further ado, I give you, The Talk, Getty Version.
——————————————————-

It was never like sex was a secret at our house. As a young child, my parents would watch movies that other parents might attempt to censor well into a child’s teenage years, if only to avoid the awkward explanations of what those people were doing with sheets conveniently covering their naughty bits. Home videos reveal my grandfather – a coarse, often offensive old man with a salt-and-pepper moustache and a considerable belly from years of alcoholism – being frankly shocked by my mother’s candid discussion of breasts while my brother and I were nearby. And I suppose the real talk happened when I was very young – three, or four, I can’t remember – and I asked my mother at point-blank range.

“Mommy, where do babies come from?”

She looked at me and smiled, and explained to me that when a man and a woman want a child, the man inserts tab a into slot b and then the sperm hunt down the egg and so forth. She was, as a matter of fact, a labor coach, and thus had a great deal of knowledge about babies – not to mention the fact that she had two of them. She took care to explain that for nine months, the fetus develops, and then is birthed. I fixed her with my three-year-old eyes and told her, “I don’t believe you!”

I could go on and list other adorable children-talking-about-sex stories, such as when I offered suggestions for why my mother didn’t have a penis, or my brother’s misunderstandings about how cat sex worked, but that’s not really the point of this piece of writing. My parents weren’t overly protective, and they were always candid enough – however, they also had a somewhat odd sense of humor, which is why, when I was in eighth or ninth grade or so, my mother called me in to her room before the family retired for the night.

“I know you already know some of these things, but I feel like it’s my duty as a parent to educate you. So, I think we need to have The Talk.”

Already, I could feel every rational impulse in my head urging me to dash out the door, and most of the other impulses urging me to dash out the window. Against the better judgement of every conscious neuron firing in my brain, I sat down and nodded apprehensively.

“You already know about sex.” It wasn’t a question. It was fairly impossible not to know about sex. Even if the exact physiological details hadn’t yet been revealed to me, even if I had never put a condom on a banana, even if I had never seen a nude woman that was not on a TV screen or made out of marble, I knew quite enough that, should an occasion arise in which I would be called upon to save humanity by having sex (humor me here), I wouldn’t let my fellow human beings down. So, inasmuch as it was possible for a nerdy, introverted twelve-year-old boy, I knew about sex.

“Yes, mother, I know about sex.” Now the question was whether this was going to be merely aggravating or actually painful.

She thought, clearly trying to taking her job as a mother as seriously as possible. “Well, do you know about sixty-nine?”

I nodded, edging into a position where I could tumble backwards out the window, if the situation required it – which it did. “Yes, mom, I know about sixty-nine.” (Around sixth grade, I decided that mommy was too childish, and consciously switched to calling her mom in order to sound more adult and less reliant on her. I would on occasion use it in a pointed, almost patronizing way to let her know that she wasn’t mommy anymore – she was mom, and I was no longer her little baby. I would later do the same thing with mother.)

“I just feel like I haven’t been teaching you enough, like I’m failing as a mother. I need to teach you something new.” She adjusted her glasses and sat up a bit. A smile spread across her face – clearly, she had thought of something to teach me, something which I hadn’t known before. “Well, do you know about golden showers?”

“I’m leaving now,” I said. And I did.

And that was the Talk.

Go Bears on three! 1-2-3!

Today marks the home opener for our 2008 California Golden Bears!  HURRAY!  College football is spectacular; what is also spectacular is not having to show up at the stadium 3 hours early to help set up card stunts.  GO BEARS!

Random tidbits.  Let’s see…

Michigan State punted to us.  As it soared south, the drunk sorority girl behind me yelled out, “INTERCEPT THAT MOTHERFUCKER!”  I turned around and said, “Um, that was to us.”  Bitchy?  Yes.  But at least I got one in for the football fans of the world!

The guy behind me had two parents who graduated from Penn State.  We bonded over the fact that Jolie goes there, in addition to their scoring 66 points today, and Joe Paterno’s now being tied for most wins.  Wow.  I don’t like Penn State when they play The Ohio State University, but otherwise, we’re chill.

I saved the best for last.  Because I didn’t help with card stunt set-up today, I stopped by Aquadelt.  As usual, they had a lot of alumni pre-gaming, and at one point, I was watching the $c game with one of their wives and her two sons.

Marianne: Wow, you look so young for being a fourth year!
Me: Haha yeah, I look like I’m twelve.
Marianne: Uh…actually, my son over there is twelve…

Jealous

My high school history teacher just met Anderson Cooper.  Also, I think it may have been on TV and I missed it, but never fear, someone on the Internet probably has a video clip.  I will consult with those who are more technologically-abled, and get back you shortly.

According to his blog (Schneid’s, not Ander-per’s), he told him to “Keep fighting the good fight.”  Um, since I told Schneid to keep fighting the good fight (and yes, I realize it’s on the brink of Shakespeare as far as hackneyed goes), do you think that means I indirectly communicated with Anderson Cooper (or Ander-per, I think, will be my new pet name for him)?  I’ll take it, cliché be damned.

HUGE PLUG: Go read my AP US History teacher, Dan Schneider, as he blogs live from the 2008 Democratic National Convention in Denver.  The URL is http://delegatedan.blogspot.com

Incidentally, I just helped fiddle with it a little, which was very brave/unwise of Schneid, as the last time I had access to his technology, I posted a picture of Mark Wahlberg on his desktop.

Momentous

We have reached a momentous occasion. Actually, we’ve surpassed a momentous occasion, as I am currently composing post number SEVENTY. That’s right, Varsh. You came back just in time to achieve the number that might make Kevin-from-The-Office cry.

Speaking of crying, here are some things that bring tears to my eyes.

  • The earthquake boy from the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics. That’s two separate links, so check out both. His name is Lin Hao, and he helped to save some of his classmates after the Sichuan earthquake in May. His poise during the opening ceremony was impressive; his intrepid persistence as hall monitor, heroic.
  • My people. Chinese Taipei? Bump that. Taiwan. We are democratic and peaceful, so back up off, China. Why don’t you improve the quality of life for your own people before trying to subjugate my little yam nation? That being said, we actually got to see the team enter the Bird’s Nest this year. I realize that, for purposes of financial gain, NBC must schedule cuts to advertisement, but you know what? It sucks. Millie was understandably dismayed when NBC excused the plumper Bob Costas and newbie Matt Lauer just as Peru was to make its entrance. For a nation reputed to have such diversity in forebears, we ought to do better. We can do better. Unlike Communist China, however, the federal government can’t just shut down commercials for two weeks.
  • The commentary. Are you freaking kidding me? “Boy, these countries sure have some crazy costumes.” COSTUMES? That’s almost as bad as the lovely Midwesterners who ask me to “draw the Chinese for this word.” No. You write it. Some of the comments were bad enough to bring tears to my eyes. The continuous shock at the “topsy-turvy” order of nations marching in the opening ceremony. I understand that NBC wants to explain to latecoming viewers, but that sort of patronizing commentary was unnecessary. I’m a little-read blogger. My writing is colloquial and sometimes obscene. My thoughts are stream-of-unconscious and seldom insightful. It’s chill. It ain’t slummin’ when you’re in college. Bob Costas? Matt Lauer? NBC is paying the big bucks for some eloquence. By the way, kids, that’s not necessarily big words. Joe Starkey didn’t need FreeRice, although he did quite well in 1982 with The Play. Here’s a transcription, and here’s the video.
  • Oh, and as for the rivalry. You’d think it’s something NBC would know about, sending Diane Dwyer to Sather Gate to talk about the Free Speech Movement and all. But then, they decide to talk about Stanford’s connection with the Olympics, the years of ‘Furd Turds who represented our country for the olive branch. Cool. Then they talk about Natalie Coughlin. HELLO? Remember how she went to Cal? They repeatedly mention that she’s an East Bay-er, but nothing of her alma mater. And they had to film on location for that? At least go to the freaking campus. Not just some random Palo Alto streetcorner. That’s neither representative of Stanford, nor Bay Area athletes (Kerri Walsh is from Santa Clara, by the way. Close, but no cigar.), and definitely not of Natalie Coughlin. A random streetcorner in Palo Alto is representative solely of whatever activity takes place there. The California Golden Bears are a big part of my life. The Free Speech Movement moves me. NBC Bay Area’s cluelessness, though–that moves me to tears.
  • Also, speaking of Kerri Walsh. The volunteer who found her ring? Pretty cute. This isn’t touching, but it’s a nice segue to some talk of eye candy.

It’s like bonbons for your oculars

  • He who shall henceforth be known as the Volunteer Who Saved Kerri’s Marriage actually has a name. It’s Song Zhendong. I can’t find any pictures at this time, but he’s pretty cute.
  • Lucas Black. I should probably watch some other movies, but I’m kind of stuck on Friday Night Lights right now. I finally watched it for the first time this summer, then started watching the TV series on Hulu. Lucas Black isn’t in the TV series, but that’s okay. He’s not always photogenic.
  • ANDERSON COOPER. I’ve always thought he was pretty cute, but didn’t talk about it much because I figured that if I mentioned it, people would be all, “He’s old!” Okay, I looked it up. He’s 41. Anyway, I know he’s a hard-hitting journalist and all, but I haven’t watched very much of it. I did watch Shark Week while in Taiwan, and that was pretty cool. (Sidenote: Lee Mama was apparently bored/jetlagged one night, and decided to watch a special feature on squirrels on the Discovery Channel. “I used to think they were kind of cute, but now I found out that they savagely kill each other! I don’t like them anymore.”) Then, there may be those who heard of the hullabaloo concerning our favorite celeb-parentals. I saw it first! Not really. I saw it three hours after those who saw it first. So, I have to admit, I was aware of this situation from the almost get-go, not because of my appreciation for hard-hitting journalism, but because I kind of like Regis and Kelly. So, I saw it first. It was awesome. Shark Week may have reminded me that I thought Anderson Cooper was cute, but Regis and Kelly ungirded my fear of proclaiming it. I have since been inspired to watch Anderson Cooper 360° several times, which is like the summer I went running six times of my own volition! Dude. The man looks good in a suit.

An oldie

…but a goodie.

*****: Aren’t you a little too old to be drinking wine from a box?
****: Aren’t you a little too young to be drinking?

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