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| "My Svensson, a 17-year-old student, needed only 61 seconds to write a 141-character SMS message rich in crisp words and snappy punctuation to claim the Swedish text messaging championship." TEXT MESSAGING CHAMPIONSHIP. What has the world come to. Nuff said. | | |
| I've been seeing a lot of articles up on the web talking about living a long life and what you need to do to live until you're 300 and staying healthy and happy and stress-free. I've seen all kinds of garbage from limiting your working hours, having more sex, eating herbs, eating deer antlers, and I'm just thinking no, no, no. You know what I think the secret is to a long life? It's a happy life.
You know who some of the happiest people in the world are? Kids. Know why? Because kids get excited over dogs, pokemon battles, going over to a friend's house, ice cream trucks, spiderman underwear, basically the littlest to stupidest things in the world. And when everything on the planet excites you, who has time to be sad?
If you think about it, it's absolutely beautiful. It's sad that the majority of kids who spent the last decade or so being happy all the time decide to turn emo, rebellious, or drama queen at around 13. And then it gets more sad when teens and young 20s decide to turn adult.
Kids get more excited petting a cute puppy than I would petting Kristin Kreuk. The most tragic thing in the world could happen to a kid, but as soon as he finds out he's having Lunchables for dinner, he'll forgot allllll about it. Being an easily excited person just makes life that much more vibrant and colorful.
I am easily excited. That's why free food tastes even better to me than to normal people. That's why when the Lakers are down by 48 in the fourth quarter, and Vujajic hits two consecutive 3-pointers, I'm already convinced we're going to win. And even if we don't, sometimes the emotions still trick me into thinking that we actually did win.
Let me paint you an example of how exciting life could be:
I recently read a few articles that could not emphasize enough the importance of drinking water. I decided to check the validity of these articles by finding more sources with similar recommendations. I found that most of the websites were in agreement in recommending 8 to 10 cups of water a day. One site even said one way to measure whether you're drinking enough water is by the color of your urine. Apparently if your pee isn't clear, you're not drinking enough water.
I immediately set a goal this summer to reach that pinnacle of my urinating career. I said to myself, I will not stop drinking water until I see clear pee. For about a month I've been pretty close. Since I set that goal, every single trip to the bathroom has been utterly exhilarating and exciting. It's like playing Bubble Town for an hour and then going to the bathroom to see if you made the Hi Scores.
It's definitely been an exciting experience. The excitement is real when you start going and see that the stream is clear. The disappointment is also real when you realize that once the stream hits the still puddle it's actually slightly tinted. That is one crazy thing about water. It still amazes me how green water, brown water, dirty water, Schuylkill River water could look so clean and clear when it's gushing and streaming, and then return to its crappy looking state once it's still. Anyway, today I accomplished my goal, and even with people sitting in the stalls, I had to let out, "YES, that's what I'm talking about!"
Hey, when going to the bathroom is this exciting, can you imagine how good life must be?
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My 10 week tenure of an office job in New Orleans is fast approaching its end. This is Week #9, and at this point, I think it is safe to say that I will not find myself in any more situations at work more embarassing than these. With no further prologue ado:
5. Old White Humor
You have no idea how many awkward moments I had to endure in 9 weeks because 30 year old white humor is incompatible with mine and vice versa. I don't know what's worse, cracking a joke and then some dude looking blankly and laughing a pity laugh, or hearing a joke and not laughing because it really just isn't funny and now you have some man waiting for you to laugh and all you want in the world is for him to just go away.
4. My Ryan Howard moment
If you're into baseball, and especially if you're into the Phils, it's highly likely you thought I was going to say I played baseball the other day and in 9 at bats, I struck out 9 times. I'm actually referring to the lesser athletic Ryan Howard of The Office, whose real crime as Oscar put it, "was the beard." I've always wondered whether the producers of the show knew there was a Ryan Howard, who is a famous and still-alive, active major league baseball player, and whether the name selection was intentional. If so, I would like to know why. The two have absolutely nothing in common except that they breathe air and eat food.
Anyway, there's an episode in The Office in which Ryan, the temp, nearly burns down the building by accidentally leaving a bagel in the kitchen toaster. Now, fortunately for Ryan, Dunder Mifflin works within a relatively small building with not so many employees inside. I, on the other hand, work in the second tallest skyscraper in New Orleans with 60 something floors, and an evacuation would have literally caused me a heart attack at the ripe age of 20. Thousands of employees would have streamed down the stairs, and once police and firefighters investigated the scene and figured out that the fire started from a kitchen toaster and a tuna sandwich burnt to the crust, surely I would have been caught. I would've been all over the city's newspapers, probably kicked out of New Orleans, and approached by Christopher Nolan for a role as a new Gotham City villain.
Yes, I put my tuna sandwich into the toaster because I like my bread toasty, and I left it in for too long. It was literally my spider senses that made me check the toaster before the sandwich exploded into flames. I tried to blow out all the smoke before too many of my coworkers discovered my mistake, but to no avail.
3. Elevators
Elevators in an office skyscraper are amazing. Because they're designed to get thousands of people in their offices at around 9 am and out at around 5 pm, there are many of them, and they're fast. Despite their speed, because the building is so tall, the ride is still a lengthy ride. Someone from the 50th floor could read Psalm 119 by the time he reaches the ground floor. The combination of these factors have allowed for me many enjoyable and alone rides during which I can just be myself. In these swanky elevators, I have practiced my golf swings, sang Dare You to Move at the top of my lungs, practiced batting with an umbrella, and moonwalked.
One day, I left the office a little early, at around 4:30 pm, and knowing that people left promptly at 5, I stepped in the elevator expecting a nice ride alone. This was perfect, because I had been feeling gassy all day and needed to relieve myself. Expecting a nice ride alone, I farted like I was farting to defend America's freedom, and I laughed out loud because it smelled so bad. It was so bad, that if America in the 18th century could gain freedom, but at the expense of having to smell my gas, the people would have said screw it, and gladly oblige to the King. Then, as soon as I was done, a crowd of people got on the elevator on the very next floor. Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that the smell pierced their noses, and I also have no doubt in my mind that these adults were smart enough to put the smell and my lone presence together and deduce I was the culprit.
I was so embarassed I literally debated whether I should announce in the elevator that it wasn't me, that some guy was on the elevator with me but got off on the floor before.
2. Pledge of Allegiance
One day at work, I got the chance to participate in a board meeting in our grand conference room. The board is comprised of fine gentlemen and ladies, all equally seeming of intelligence, accomplishment, age, and wisdom. You will find the pictures of these people when you look up "rich and powerful" in Merriam-Webster.
Anyway, the meeting began with standing up to pledge our allegiance to America with the Pledge of Allegiance. I don't even remember the last time I said the Pledge of Allegiance. I think it was sometime during the 4th grade. I wasn't sure if I remembered the words, didn't know which hand to place over which heart, I was just going with the flow. Once it began, it slowly started coming back to me, and I ended up doing the whole thing without lagging much behind the group. Once the pledge was over, and complete silence had set in the room, I closed the pledge with an "AMEN." I don't know why I thought there was an Amen at the end of the pledge, maybe it was the years of singing a hymn every Sunday at Renewal, but I said it loud and clear and a bunch of rich and powerful board members were now looking at an Asian kid intern, probably thinking "What an idiot." The country's debating whether to take out "under God" and I'm here ADDING "Amen." I thought they would kill me for treason.
1. Us Magazine, I hate you
This was truly never meant to happen. I was reading an article featured on yahoo's home page, and I was distracted by the links on the side, links to Us Magazine.com displaying photos of celebrities. At first, I was distracted to photos of celebrities' PDA. Then I saw another link of Jessica Simpson photos. Lastly, I clicked on another link and began clicking through the entire slideshow when my manager walks by and catches me intently staring at the screen with big, bold, pink lettering: Matthew McConaughey's Top 10 Shirtless Moments.
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| This summer, I've had the wonderful experience of becoming my own man. You know, spending more than a month or two without the mom, a girlfriend, or 09 brothers type of thing. Just on your own, eating to survive, reading because it's actually one of the more fun things to do, and finding new things to do. Well, one of the things I've got to do while I have been living here on my own, is making a shake. Making a shake is no easy feat. Whenever I'd get a nasty smoothie from EnergyZone or Surf City, I used to repudiate its maker as an incompetent noob. I realize, however, that making a good smoothie requires great skill, talent, concentration, and sometimes, hacks. I tried to make a smoothie today and I failed by epic proportions. First of all, I had no idea how much smoothie you would get after putting in some ice, some fruit, and maybe a cup of milk. I ended up with 2 liters somehow. How did it taste? It had no taste. I suspect I may have put too much ice in it. Anyway, that's not the point of this entry. The point is, I witnessed one of the greatest things ever by accident, and you can, too! Here's what you will need for this experiment: - A bowl of ice
- A cup of yogurt or milk
- Peanut butter or protein mix
- a Banana
- a blender
- a toilet I believe the ingredient of supreme importance here is the banana. Well, the toilet is. But second in command is the banana. Do not underestimate the power of the banana. It is yellow and uninspiring, but it can make your smoothie so creamy you'd need a cup of water to go with it. For best results, you need the creaminess from the banana. Now, once you blend all these ingredients together, if you do it right, you'll end up with nearly 2 liters of shake. Now, you may drink a cup or so if you wish. Then, dump the rest in your toilet. Don't lose me here, take my word for it. Dump it ALL. Now, just stare at the shake you just made that is now in your toilet, and once you're ready, flush it. It is one of the greatest things ever. I won't spoil it for you here and tell you what happens, but it is AWESOME. It is absolutely nuts. It is a MUST TRY. | | |
| Now, I just got to blog about this life-altering experience. I came back from the most intense 2-hour basketball frenzy of my life. The average height on the court must've been 6'5", and without my Asian outlier presence, it was surely at least 6'8". The average skill level was between the NCAA and NBA range, and the average color was black. Again, without my Asian outlier presence, it would've been blacker. If you are an Asian male of 5'6" to 6'0" height range, and all your life you've been playing basketball with other 5'6" to 6'0" Asian males, I strongly recommend you play a pickup game of basketball with 9 legit hoogins. What qualifies as a legit basketball hoogin? You are a legit hoogin if you satisfy at least 3 of the following conditions:
- are 5'8", but you can touch the rim.
- are 5'11", and you can touch the ceiling of the gym.
- are 6'5", and you can fly.
- have muscles on your arms and shoulders with every single fiber defined like a rope of twizzler.
- can kill a thousand men with the jawbone of a donkey.
- can telecommunicate with other legit hoogins on the court
- have arms that can wrap around an Asian twice, completely reducing any chance of his rebounding a ball.
- don't go to Penn.
Now I just have an idea, that I might start a basketball improvement program, where I just take a kid and drop him in the middle of Harlem, Baltimore, New Orleans, Brooklyn, Chicago, Detroit, and leave. I guarantee your game will improve. The only minor setback is that they don't pass to you that often. No offense taken there. They just don't trust us with the ball. Same principle in the reason why we wouldn't pass them the peice of chalk at a Math Bowl competition. Self-motivation and confidence play large roles here. I played such invigorating games of basketball just now, that I don't think I'll ever be the same. First of all, if you've ever played basketball with me, you know I hate defense. I played the best defense of my life. Not because I wanted to, but because these hoogins might have killed me. Secondly, I had to run back on defense for fear that IF I were the only one in the backcourt and my team stole the ball, that ball would fly across the court to me with my team expecting an easy bucket. Not so. I know with certainty that no matter how open and alone I was, a legit hoogin on the opposing team could easily run the entire length of the court, stop at the free throw line and block my layup with his 7 foot long arm. Another thing I realize, is the two races that have the least chemistry in the world is black and Asian. Everytime before the game begins, there's a little downtime where a legit hoogin converses with another legit hoogin who has the task of guarding him. Everyone's laughing and joking, having a good time, but when it comes time to say hello and talk with the Asian, I swear a hoogin turns comatose. He doesn't know what to say, what to do, where to look, he just stands there. And finally, if you are reading this and by chance you are a legit hoogin, don't try to steal the ball from an Asian. Yeah, you'll succeed 100% of the time, but that's like stealing an 80 year old lady's purse. It just ain't right.
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