Dead or Alive in Seattle?

So yeah, I have neglected my blog for a while now. And it should not come as a surprise since once in a while, I am simply swamped. But it should come as a surprise that this time I really have no excuse, as I am not swamped.

I am in Seattle this week, being a total slacker despite the fact that I just started my new project. Why, you ask? Well, the client doesn't yet have the proper authorization and approvals needed for me to touch their systems. Sweet!

So why haven't I blogged anything, you ask? Well, as silly as it sounds, I think I may be afflicted with Carpal tunnel syndrome. About a couple times a year, the joints from my left wrist to my left thumb would hurt real bad when I use it, be it holding onto a bottle of water, typing on the keyboard, scratching my back or masturbating. Okay, totally kidding on the masturbation. Because I'm right-handed! ;-)

Anyway, I ended up going easy on the typing all week. And I can't figure out why it would hurt. One would think that if anything, it would be the right thumb to be affected considering the fact that I use the right thumb to hit the Space button on the keyboard. Weird.

Here is just a quick recap. I flew out on Monday. What a way to spend the holiday. And this time, I brought a friend with me, as a birthday present to her. Never mind the fact that I was kinda reverse-psychologically forced and coerced by my other friends to do so. [Yeah, you know who you are!] And I believe one of them did so just so he could get away from his nagging wife for a week, and leaving me stuck with her. =)

Back to the point. On Monday, I went for a leisurely five mile run after arriving in Seattle. After a quick shower, I took Sabine to the International District for my favorite cheap dinner. You see, I had been to Seattle for almost half a year for another project years ago, so I kind of knew my way around. If you ever want some good Cantonese noodles, go to the Canton Wonton House. I've experimented with many Cantonese noodle inns in Seattle, and none has come close to my designated favorite.

On Tuesday, I went to work, while Sabine stayed in the downtown area. I'm sure she told me all about what she did that day when I returned from work, but I'm also pretty sure I applied my well-practiced selective hearing skills during that time. In any case, I dragged her along with me to the renowned Green Lake, where I did my nine mile run, or a little over three laps. After my run around the gorgeous lake filled with many equally gorgeous girls running there, we went to Cedar's restaurant for some quality Lebanese/Mediterranean/Indian food, and unlimited home-made Chai tea full of explosive spices. The Tandoori chicken was so moist and juicy! Other than the fact that they spent a lot of money renovating the place and Walgreen's totally took over block and Cedar's parking lot, the food was awesome, just as I remembered it years ago.

On Wednesday, I took a break from running, so I was able to return to the downtown hotel quite early. After a quick stop at the Executive Lounge where we enjoyed some hors d'oeuvres and free alcohol, we went over to Pioneer Square and partook in the Underground Tour. To my amazement, I did not realize that Seattle had once burned to the ground just like Chicago did in 1871, only 18 years later. And just like Chicagoans, the Seattlites literally raised the city! Who would've known that, if they had not gone to the cheesy Underground Tour? As a silly goose that I am, I was suckered into buying a couple Seattle history books at the souvenir shop at the end of the tour, much not dissimilar to the gift shops you see at the exit of a rollercoaster ride in the overpriced amusement park.

Then we walked to the Fish Club, where a friend had recommended having good seafood. Initially I was not attracted to the restaurant as we walked closer, because I have a very distinctive taste in food. No national chain restaurants and I definitely avoid hotel restaurants at all costs. The Fish Club just so happened to be the restaurant underneath the downtown Marriott. It was too late. But to my surprise, the food and service there far exceeded my expectations. I treated Sabine to dinner, because we were celebrating her belated birthday. But she didn't know that. =) I wouldn't be opposed to returning there in the near future. If you ever go to Seattle, I highly recommend getting the Pasta Fra Diavolo by this fine establishment by Todd English.

Last night, after work, we decided to not splurge on any high ticket restaurants. Besides, with just less than a month to go till the Chicago Marathon, I didn't think it would be wise to treat my body to good wine, good food laden with sticks and sticks of butter, and dessert. So we went to yet another establishment as recommended by my friend, Sandie's Gourmet. As there is no Taiwanese restaurant in all of Chicago, I absolutely had to go there. It was like a hole in the wall, but I assured Sabine that it is totally fine. For appetizers, we got the traditional "cold plate" stuff like sliced seaweed, simmered eggs, and dried tofu. I also went so far as to get green onion pancake and traditional Taiwanese stinky tofu for appetizers too. The stinky tofu wasn't stinky enough. Maybe they made it more palatable to the Americans. Oh well. And for our entrées, I got the traditional Taiwanese beef noodles and the Taiwanese rib noodles for Sabine.

It was all good! And although I promised not to reveal to anyone, Sabine's pants' button popped! And the restaurant owner laughed at her! My friend who recommended Sandie's Gourmet often patronizes this establishment, so much so that she gave him a nickname: Old Baldy. And his girlfriend: Big Eyes. And I simply had to tell her how I found this little restaurant. And now I'm afraid to know what nicknames she would give my French friend and me.

So that brings to today. I don't have to go to work, so I slept in. I think my Carpal tunnel syndrome has improved slightly, so I figured that I could squeeze in a blog entry before having to jump in the shower and head home on my flight. So far, so good.

Basically, for me, all I did was work and eat, with a bit of running in between. I'm not quite sure what Sabine did all week. My selective hearing wasn't great, so I vaguely remember her going on and on about walking around downtown, wanting to watch the whales, pretty flowers at the market, wanting to watch the whales, space needle, and not being able to go watch the whales. Other than that, I have absolutely no details as to each of those things that she did.

I definitely look forward to working in Seattle in the next three months!

I'm Not Hongkie. Or Metro.

A girl I briefly dated earlier once insinuated that I was gay, or at the very least a metrosexual, based on a few premature judgments of me on her part. The tight fitting clothes? The nice winter coat? Me talk proper English? And hair? Yes, that's right. Hair. If I have to take a stab at the situation of the whole dating dynamics with this girl, I'd say that she may have been a little bit homophobic. But what do I know? I hardly know her well. In any case, this isn't about how brokeback I may be perceived. It's about, uhm, hair. And the defense on my masculinity. =)

Recently I went to Los Angeles for work, and visited my sister, family and friends. Upon first seeing my sister, I was asked if I was trying to emulate a Hongkie. I had no idea what she meant, but further investigation revealed that only Asian men from Hong Kong would highlight their hair, other than the Japanese. At least in popular culture in the West Coast scene. The longer I stayed there, the more I observed as such of the majority of Asians around me.

When we met up with a college friend for dinner, her first reaction was, "Wow! I didn't know you are the type to highlight your hair." Her lack of saying whether it looked good or bad was suspect. I'll assume that she didn't like it. And then yesterday, we went to lunch with a couple of high school friends before I flew back home. Being blunt and immature as she always has been, she asked, "Wow, have you been hanging out with a lot of Hongkies in Chicago?"

Hmm... Never in my life would I stop and think that my hair would become a great conversation piece. My hair stays highlighted for about six months a year. I would highlight it, and then let it fade back to black, which usually takes about six months, before going back in for a completely new highlight with different colors. So basically, my hair undergoes two cycles of being colorful to solid black a year. Never in my mind would such an act cause a girl to take pause and question whether I was date-worthy. I'm pretty sure that I am not the only straight guy who highlights his hair.

And speaking of sexual orientation, I can attest to you that I am straight. Why? It all comes down to the hair. A gay guy, or metrosexual for that matter, will always keep his hair properly manicured. I, on the other hand? Despite the fact that I don't go to a barber but to a hair stylist in a salon, I only get my top mop trimmed once every three months. I enjoy the three month cycle where I look like a clean cut soldier boy to a guy mistaken as a GQ model to a sloppy hippie with long moppy hair that goes in wild places. My sister, being ever so critical since her birth, would not stop pointing out that my hair looks like an umbrella while I was in Los Angeles.

And adding to my defense, someone who is brokeback or metrosexual will never dare let his roots clash in contrast with the highlights. Nor will he let the highlights turn into a different, unintended color. For the latest splash of art, I had two tones added back in December. Some dark brown scattered all over, in addition to some hue of red layered in. Well, three months later, the dark brown is still there, but somehow the red no longer exists. In its place, I now sport a skanky bleached color. I have finally come to a sad realization that I lack the dedication needed to maintain color, despite even purchasing shampoo and conditioner geared towards color guarding. (By the way, don't bother buying those Color Stay stuff from Pantene. It doesn't work.)

So there you have it. I'm still the same Asian American dude as before. In fact, I don't hang out with, much less know, anybody from Hong Kong. And I sure as hell am not gay, because I lack the many rudimentary skill sets to be even a metrosexual! Just look at my hair!

I guess this just reminded me that it is now three months, and I so totally need to get back into my soldier boy look soon. I'll just buzz my hair stylist later in the afternoon and schedule an appointment. Tee hee.

Super Bowl XLI was Lost...

Like many other Chicagoans, I am sad and disappointed that the Bears lost, despite the explosive first five minutes of the game. But unlike many other Chicagoans, I am also glad that the Colts won. Not because I'm not a Chicago Bears fan, but because above all, I am a sports fan who believes in sportsmanship.

It is very unfortunate that the Bears' defense against the Colts' running game was lackluster, along with the many failed attempts to blitz Peyton Manning. We sacked Manning just once! Equally as unfortunate is the poor showing from the Bears' offensive squad. Grossman did not step up to the plate and perform the best he could. And it is sad that Benson had an early injury, for I am sure our offensive running game could have been just as charged as the game against the Saints was he there along with Jones.

Although my desire was for the Bears to win all the way, it is just a disappointment that we didn't do a good job playing the game. Five turnovers? Horrible snaps? Our performance today pretty much amounted to the Colts deserving the win. Fair and squarely.

Now, before you lambaste me as a heretic, let me explain simply why I said what I said. My coaches have always taught me to play strong and clean, earn and give respect. And if the opposing team won the game because of our own substandard, then go over and congratulate them as they deserved the title. The title, whether it be the Super Bowl (although I was never a football player in the NFL) or some regional championship, is something to be earned. It is not something trivial, or easily received. And our performance today showed that we did play to our best abilities. But that's not to say that there is a lack of desire or passion in each of the Bears players' hearts. I am sure they all wanted the prize just as much as I did, possibly more.

All I'm saying is I'm such a fan of sports and sportsmanship that I'm magnanimous enough to understand that I cannot be upset or bitter simply because we lost. You have to frame the whole context in the bigger picture, because like all unbiased referees say before all games to the team captains: "May the best team win." And Dungy, Manning and Co. definitely proved us today that their team was the best this evening.

On an almost unrelated note, I threw my first Super Bowl party this year. It was a smashing success. But I seriously overestimated the power of my 12 friends' drinking and eating abilities. Of the 36 cans of Miller Lite, we only made a tiny dent by putting away a dozen. And of the three large pizzas I ordered, I have half of all that left. To my friends' credit, they did bring their own alcohol despite my indication that I would provide the beer. I guess I'm in the minority who enjoys Miller Lite. And also to their credit, I made too much hors d'oeuvre. Assorted vegetable tray, cold meat cuts, baked taquitos, chicken tenders, chips and salsa and guacamole, cashews and honey roasted nuts. What can I say? I love to make food and entertain.

Now I just have to find the room and will to eat pizza, taquitos and chicken tenders for lunch and dinner for the next two weeks. Not to mention putting away a huge case of Miller Lite and dozens of assorted girly drinks* in my fridge. =)

* By girly drinks, I mean the following: Bacardi Silver RAZ, Smirnoff Ice, Pumpkin Ale, Mike's Hard Lemonade, Mike's Light Hard Lemonade (especially this, with only two grams of carbs), Cider Jack, Bud Light, Rolling Rock and Tommyknocker ButtHead. Okay, maybe the last two aren't exacly girly drinks, but like the others, the girls brought them. ;-)

It's not like I'm a Witness or anything!

Friday morning came. I woke up early and drove to work. Midway into the hour long commute, someone called. It was a number I didn't recognize. Nor did my phone match it up to anything in my phonebook. Someone started singing: "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to me! ..." Ah, it was Michele. She's a close friend whom I have known for almost a decade since college. She called from her boss's phone!

Even though I was bought a tequila shot the night before, I still didn't remember it was my birthday. And, sad as it is to say this, I also forgot it was also Michele's birthday. But I'm sure I would have remembered when I was fully awake and had gone to work and called her then.

Then my parents called. Mom asked, "Did you get my voicemail? Did you go out partying with your friends?" I replied, "No." She was shocked. My dad took over the phone and asked the same thing. They thought I would be out getting trashed with my buddies. But nosireebob! Not yours truly...

Yesterday was mild when the work day concluded. I simply went out to dinner with a few friends, and watched a movie. Nothing extravagant for me. I've never celebrated my birthday as a young adult. In fact, a couple weeks before my birthday, I altered my birth date information on both MySpace and the social group web site. I hate attention, ever since after high school. In fact, I spent my 21st birthday staying at home!

I don't know why, but like I explained to my parents, as an adult, I think job promotion, pay raises, good review, project completion, landing that big contract are what I celebrate. I even consider those to be more important than the anniversary of the day my mother huffed and puffed for hours to pop me out. After all, all I did was just laid there in the midst of amniotic fluid to be pushed out not by my own effort into the hands of some doctor. I can see how that can be important for my parents, but me? It was fun for a few years as kid, but not now.

And of course, I did not join the Jehovah's Witness after high school or anything like that. But that's just me. I'm quirky in that way. And I'll be sure to change my birth date information to December again when this time next year comes around. And I'll shock my friends when I tell them that I got home before midnight on my birthday. It'll be another smashing success! =)

And Eva turned one!

Another Blast From the Past

She said it. A friend from high school mentioned "blast from the past." And I have nothing but to agree with her. Santi sent me this link to a group on Facebook, and I went to its destination. I couldn't see anything as I wasn't a registered member of Facebook. Should I join Facebook? But what is this thing that Santi sent me? Curiosity got the best of me because instead of going to bed early as I wanted, I spent the next couple hours registering for a membership, feeling my way through the site, and read up all the Help guides to understand the whole thing that made up Facebook. After finally updating some basic information about myself, I went back to the link Santi sent.

I was floored; speechless. I guess someone had set up a social group for those who share a common thread: the school I attended throughout junior and senior high. At first, the reaction was alright. Then I started to explore a little bit, like seeing who the members of this group were. Then I felt really old. Everybody were alums from classes of years past my college graduation, except for one, Santi. She said it best! "I must be a dinosaur here!" I started to think which of the prehistoric species I should nickname myself after.

While exploring the group, I did not recognize most of the names. After all, they came after I graduated. But then, I was slowly getting sudden rushes of lightheaded feelings. A last name jumped out from this big list of members. I instantly relived moments long ago, those of which I have carefully filed in the recesses of my deepest and innermost memories. Although I was looking at the computer screen, I did not scroll. I just stared blankly ahead, and scenes from my younger self appeared, as if a movie producer or editor was fast forwarding a movie sequence, pausing here and there looking at finer details of specific special scenes.

And there I sat for a long time, fixated on a blank spot on the screen. Then another last name popped up, and this time the feeling was ever stronger, reliving an old life ever longer. And that led me to one of the darkest moments of my life—a period that I have never shared with anyone, maybe with the exception of briefly brushing the subject while talking with Amber once. It was the darkest 18 months that I have ever lived through.

As an adult now, I still can't imagine how I was able to survive those months. And no, it has nothing to do with girls, if that's what you were suspecting. Then I started thinking about the catalysts that pulled me through, and how I came to become the person that I am today, which is leaps and bounds over the old self. Sure, you may recognize the same face on the outside, but if you knew me during those 18 months, you'd wonder if it was the same person you were talking to. As I probed the possibilities of who I should really credit for my understated rebound, two names came up: The Irvin family and the Bradley sisters. They probably don't realize the immense impact they have on my life, but they should not be surprised that after all these years, we're still close and remain in touch with each other.

Tears started to trickle down my face. Okay, that's enough of that. I turned off the computer screen, and looked at the clock. Perhaps it was better that turn in and return to memory lane another time.

Supposed Drama of a Football Fan

This post is in response to the "drama" spurred by the recent Super Bowl Party invite that I sent out earlier in the week. I guess people in general who work during the day and don't get their soap opera fix need to create drama out of innocent situations. So what was the "drama"? The wording I chose in the email that was sent out through Evite was a little spark, it turned out:

Here's an alternative to g-Matt's gas inducing chilli cookoff slash Super Bowl, or the only alternative if you didn't make it into his famous A-, B-, C- and D-Lists. Hope you can come out and party up this national holiday.

Here is the background information. G-Matt is a friend I met a couple years ago from a social group we both belong to. G-Matt had planned on having a Super Bowl / Chili Cook-off party at his place, and sent out the invitation several weeks prior to Thanksgiving of 2006. Since g-Matt and I share a few friends, I invited some of our common friends to my party.

So I've got more than one friend email me with concerns. In addition to what my friends are telling me directly, word on the street goes like this:
Drama #1: Oh my God! John is snubbing Matt K with a competing party!
Drama #2: John referred to Matt K as g-Matt!

Okay, I hardly think I need to explain anything, nor defend myself. But considering how other people are making a huge mountain out of a flat ground, I guess I should say something about this to set the record straight. After all, a few people asked me about the drama last night at Aarthi's party, but I doubt that that would be enough to bring the drama back down to earth.

First of all, let's not get too hung up on the "gas-inducing" part of it. It is just a reference to the chili and flatulence joke that is prevalent in pop culture. It is not in anyway an adjective to describe g-Matt's party. Now that we got that out of the way, let's get to the meat and potatoes!

My party, which the invitation was sent out a month before the Super Bowl, is not a competing party. Nor was it a challenge to g-Matt, who sent out his shindig invitation way before mine. Back on July 22, Maria, Maria's Matt, Christine, Kristen and I went to Pegasus for an awesome Greek dinner. The conversation about television sets came up because Maria had just bought her boyfriend a huge flat screen television set as his graduation gift. I joined in the conversation because I was thinking about buying a new one myself, and that I had begun researching on which one to get. I also mentioned that if I got it before Super Bowl, I would host a Super Bowl party. After all, I wasn't sure if I would have saved enough money for a new television set before then. Given that g-Matt sent out his invitation on November 20, it is clearly an indication that I wasn't trying to compete or derail his party. I was going to turn down g-Matt's invitation and stay home with my brand new television set, whether I will be throwing my own Super Bowl party or not. Simple as that.

So if I wasn't trying to compete or derail g-Matt's party, then why did I invite people who were already invited to his party? Well, for starters, while watching the Boise State University compete Oklahoma University at the Fiesta Bowl, I learned that a few of my friends were not invited to g-Matt's party. Seeing that they had no place to go, I decided to throw my own party, since I was staying at home nonetheless. Secondly, I thought to myself, what would Jesus Do? Just kidding. Actually, the thought was that if I was to send out an invitation for my own party, I should send it out to all my friends like any other party I host. I couldn't possibly look at g-Matt's RSVP list to see which of my friends replied yes and then exclude them, because then, some of my friends will find out about it and ask me, "So I wasn't good enough to be invited to your party?" I was trying to be fair to my circle of friends. Knowing that some of my friends were invited to g-Matt's party, I would not be offended or hurt if they decide to go to his party instead of mine. After all, g-Matt sent out his invitation before I did, and they are his friends too.

In regards to the A, B, C and D lists, well, I don't think that is a big deal. It's not like he hides the fact that he categorizes his friends into some sort of a preferential order. To a certain degree, we all do the same thing ourselves. We just don't verbalize it and tell people where they stand. But that is what I like about g-Matt. Sometimes he can be brutally honest with you, no matter how hard he tries to spin it off in a jovial way. Anyway, he tells you where you fit in his list, and I know I'm in the D list. Does that cause me heartache? No, because we're not some BFF or whatever. Different people are just tight with certain people, and not so much so with others. Sure, I'm friends with a lot of people in the social group, but there are only a select few with whom I am much strongly closer with. I believe that that goes with all social relationships of every individual out there. So my mentioning his lists was nothing related to my supposed competition or derailment, or worse yet, jealousy.

Finally, the issue with "g-Matt." Remember the social group I mentioned earlier? Sometimes there are many people with the same first name. In cases like that, we always provide an alternative nickname. For example, there are many John's out there. So there is Hiking John, because he always do hiking trips for the social group, and then there is J-Ho, yours truly. And then there is the Lawyer Rob. You get the picture. But sometimes, for people you are closer friends with than the general population in the social group, you tend to give additional terms of endearment behind their backs. We have many Matt's in the group, and remember Matt H, who I referred to as Maria's Matt earlier? Well, to distinguish the two Matts apart, sometimes we call Matt K "Gay Matt."

Wha wha what?!?

You read that right! People call Matt K "Gay Matt." Why? Because he has this way about him that is somewhat feminine some times. Let's just say that he is a little flamboyant. Although I'm not his closest friend in his most inner circle, his close friends also refer to him as that. I myself don't use the whole phrase; just "g-Matt." But let's make one thing clear: I was not the one who came up with that term, because I first heard it used at Finn McCool's on December 17, 2005.

To the casual observer, I can see how this could be so oh lordy pants! with my referring to Matt K as g-Matt. It's a term of endearment. Why? Because no matter how flamboyant he can be, of all the people from this social group who have been in a relationship, he is still with his girlfriend for years! And the fact that he was married to a woman once before clearly is enough evidence that he isn't gay. We all know that. That is why "Gay Matt" is such a funny term of endearment! It wouldn't be funny at all if he was single, and never had a girlfriend. Just like I found out not too long ago that my other nickname behind my back for several months has been "Bisexual John." It's funny, because I'm not bisexual. But anyway...

Okay, so that should be it, right? But one of g-Matt's closest friends wrote me in an email and indicated in part, "I know that's what everybody calls him but you've got it in writing. I wouldn't want to be the one having to explain what it means if he asks." Well, from my point of view, my having it in writing is not worse than people verbally calling him that. Whether it be in writing or in saying, the level of joking and "disrespect" amounts to the same. Furthermore, as a friend, I would not worry about being the one having to explain what it meant. I knew that my invitation will somehow get to him since we shared some friends. And if he asks me what I meant, I'll be straightforward and honest, and explain that it is a term of endearment. I wouldn't call myself a friend if I dreaded to explain it, much less pretended not knowing what it means. But hey, that's just WWJD (What Would J-Ho Do).

I wish people would not create fictitious drama at the expense of others. I strongly recommend to those with a drama-less life to perhaps put four tablespoons of salt in his or her boss's coffee, or tape a "Kick Me!" note behind a coworker's back, or better yet, go up to your female coworker or friend and yank her hair by the handful while she's eating lunch and scream, "Bitch!" for no good reason. Maybe that will fill in the void when they can't watch soap opera? Okay, I'm kidding, but seriously, let's just enjoy the playoff season and wait patiently for the day the Chicago Bears open a can of Whoop Ass on the New England Patriots on February 4, 2007, and leave all these hyped up artificial drama!