Thw first person to tell me who this is will get a sweet, sweet prize.

Pony is excluded from this contest.

BE A WINNER.

And by being a winner, you are also kind of the loser. In many ways, we are all the losers of this contest.

Lately I have been clucking at Karina when she is in her office. I enjoy this very much. I have no idea where this came from, but when I pass by her office, I go bok-BOOOOKK and then I scram. Sometimes she looks up. What? Is that a chicken I hear? But now I think she is used to this clucking. I will have to find another sound. Or maybe I will do it in French or Spanish. I actually do not know how a chicken sounds in French or Spanish, but I imagine it’s like this “le cluckeaux! le cluckeaux!” or “la clucka! la clucka!” If I were fancy, I would use the upside down exclamation mark for the Spanish one, but guess what? I don’t know how to do that. I am just not fancy. I will learn how to live with this. Anyway I am very good at clucking. Sometimes Karina looks under her desk. Maybe there are some farm fresh eggs?

Speaking of which, have you ever seen an egg that is literally fresh from the chute? It’s kind of gross. Like there’s this ‘film’ on it and it’s warm. Like body temperature warm. It’s nasty dude, just nasty. I was wondering how often chickens lay eggs and researched on the interwebbingz and learned that it’s about once every 24 hours, but that to get the eggs fertilized, the hen can store semen in her oviducts for a MONTH. That’s like a Manhattan Mini-Storage up in that hoochie. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I just had a egg moment where I wanted to vomit.

My tissues smell like bacon, for no real reason. I just got Planet Earth via Netflix. I think it has a sad ending.

I think that covers it.

Yesterday I knocked an entire cup of coffee off the table and it landed in my purse. On the way down, it sprayed my keyboard and my bass gee-tar. Inside my purse I had a distortion pedal and a reverb pedal. Those too, got coffee’d. So what I’m trying to say here is that I have a big problem. The nice part is that everything works still. For now. The bad part is that everything I own looks like it got a savage beatdown from Mr. Coffee. Everything smells like coffee. I was filled with sadness. And not filled with coffee, since I had spilled it all. ERROR and in addition, BIG FAIL.

Next week I’m headed off to Austin for work. It should be fun. I really enjoy Austin and when I think about Austin, I think, dude, I should live there. And then I remember it is quite far from water and then I get a little stressed out about it. I like to be near water. For no particular reason, really. I just might, at some point, want to see it, visit it, say hi, etc. I don’t even like the beach all that much, but, you know, I feel better knowing that it’s there.

I am already planning to go to Veggie Heaven.

I am already planning on getting a major burrito the size of my waist so that it fits perfectly inside my belly.

I am already planning on saying, “Dude, everyone is so nice here. What is wrong with them?”

I am already planning on renting a car and driving like a complete ass, because being female, Asian, from L.A. and living in NYC has not really helped my attitude behind the wheel. So Austin, I apologize in advance. Now, GET OFF THE ROAD.

Happy (lunar) new year, everyone! It’s the Year of the Ox! It’ll be a year of ups and downs and hard work, but also a lot of fun. You will enjoy being with friends, but also being alone. You will have moments this year when things go your way, and moments when things don’t. You’ll be busy, and then you won’t be busy. Then you’ll be busy again. You’ll buy socks. You will eat something you regret. It may or may not be partly cloudy at some point this year. You’ll meet new people. You may not like them. At all. You’ll learn how to say “bellybutton” in another language. You’ll get good news. And bad news. You’ll struggle with technology. You’ll get a phone call. Iceland’s government will collapse. You’ll sneeze (gesundheit). You may come into money. You may lose this money. You will spill something. Someone will give you a hug.

This is going to be a very good year, like all the other good years. But it’ll also be a very bad year, like all the other bad years. Yes, this is the Year of the Ox.

Also, my sign is the dragon. I would make “an ideal king.” I find this very exciting.

Also: “ombligo.”

I’ll be reading at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop this Sunday, in honor of Lunar New Year.*

There’ll be dumplings and noodles and rice cakes and readings. It’s free-form and casual. So if you want to read something, DO VIT. DO VIT NOW!

I’ll be reading around 9:25.

AAWW is located conveniently in Midtown West.
16 West 32nd Street, Suite 10A

Right near K-town!** Holy crap! It’s your lucky day. You can eat Korean food and then listen to a Korean (American).

But, wait! How do we get there?

N, R, Q, W, F, B, D, V trains to 34th Street/Herald Square
4, 5, 6 trains to 33rd Street
1, 2, 3, 9 trains to 34th Street

*Lunar New Year is the same as Chinese New Year but, like, it’s not just New Year in China. The Sea of Japan is also bullshit. Why do they get their own sea? We don’t call it American Ocean. Though we should just to piss the Canadians off.

**People always ask me where to eat in K-town. The answer is not very clear because, for the most part, I find most of the food there kind of overpriced and not that good. But I have very high standards. Fine, I’m a total snob. You happy? I guess I like Cho Dang Gol, which is at 55 W 35th St (between 5th & 6th Ave). But I also found out recently they gave nonspicy food to white people, which is irritating. But whatever. Apparently white people are all adverse to FLAVOR. Also, please don’t go to that place with the waterfall. Everyone always goes there and it breaks my heart. It’s like why don’t I just poop on a plate and give it to you. At least it’d be free.

Huh? Where? Am I? How did I get here?

Oh right. I forgot about that.

OK, so what you’re saying is that it’s in rough shape. Got it.

Now what?

An idea.

Dude. Fucking. Help.

Now, I wait.

Wes just told me that there was a transient in our office lobby who was freaking out and the maintenance guys had to call the cops. Two undercover cops came, pinned the dude to the floor and cuffed his crazy ass. But then an unsuspecting girl came down into the lobby and quietly walked over the bum and then did a doubletake like, hmm, that wasn’t there this morning. Oh well. And walked off. Hahaha.

Anyway, the more interesting part of the story is the undercover cops. Why undercover? Well there is this sweet hotel next door which is CLEARLY involved with some nefarious shit. I’ve seen prostitutes go in there, and like toothless, shifty people lingering in front. It’s called La Semana Hotel (The Week Hotel) and HOURLY RATES ARE AVAILABLE. We always see really sad tourists coming out of there. Like, oh dear god what have we done. But don’t take my word for it.

So then! On to the reviews!

“I believe this hotel is a rent by the hour hotel. When I arrived the man at the desk was watching porn and I think smoking THC.”

“The door did not close all the way. There was duct tape covering a peephole.”

“I spent two nights in one of their “european style” rooms. If “european style” is tiny, with no shower, and no amentities, then I’m never visiting Europe.”

“I do not recommend this hotel for:
Young singles, An amazing honeymoon, A romantic getaway, Girlfriend getaway, People with disabilities, Older travelers, Great pool scene, Pet owners, Families with young children, Families with teenagers, Tourists”

“Two days after my visit to room number 8 at La Semana, I started getting bed bug bites at home. The hotel is also an “hourly” hotel so popular with the afternoon delight crowd, and have to admit, I was there for such a reason (3 hour rate).”

“There were two roaches we had to kill on the second night.”

“They have heating system on wheels”

“windowless rooms!”

There is a double-sided red neon sign that says “HOTEL” but the bulbs are out so on one side it says “HOT” and the other side it says “HO”.

Hot Ho!

Thanks for all the good wishes for my friend yesterday. And thanks to everyone who checked their (or someone else’s) boobies. You are doing a great service to yourself and to boobies everywhere.

That’s a blue-footed booby, in case you were wondering. I am not a big fan of birds, but I do like me some boobies. And the pygmy owl. OH man I love the pygmy owl. Actually I like birds that eat other birds. But other than that, birds can suck it. You hear that birds? Suck. It.

Anyway the surgery went well, my friend woke up totally disoriented and then checked her boob and was like, oh my god, someone signed my breast! And sure enough there were initials on her boob. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, that’s all I have to say. Anyway she was totally on drugs and crazy loopy and was crying, laughing, and then checking out her boob every two seconds, I can’t believe someone signed my boob! I heard the surgery makes your nips hard all the time ha ha ha! I was like I want to BE ON WHAT YOU ARE ON RIGHT NOW. How awesome to be so relaxed. I am not a relaxed person. That may be hard to believe. Hah.

I just doused my entire desk with spearmint oil. It smells like mouthwash. It smells nice. It will cover up the smell of rotting mice bodies in our office walls. Mmm.

So now I’d like to talk about James Franco and how I am going to do him.

OK there’s not much more to say other than that.

That is all.

I’m here blogging live from Beth Israel Hospital where my friend is getting a lumpectomy. That is when they feel your boobies and say hey there’s something not right about your boobies. They are a nice size and shape and whatnot but there’s something a little strange. Oh look at this! It is a “mass” but let’s call it a lump because it’s cuter and not as scary. (Why not call it Henry or James or even Henry James since he was a big fan of boobies? I don’t know.) So now they are removing Henry James which is good because quite frankly, he was a real prick. There I said it. We got here at the ass crack of dawn, at the hour when the only people on the train are constructuon workers going to work to build homes and homeless people who will not be living in said homes.

Anyway now she is inside going sleepy time and I am in this waiting room with three other people who are also sleepy time. One has his mouth gaping open. I’m trying to resist throwing pennies into it like a fountain.

An aside: Au Bon Pain has really shitty coffee. It’s like light brown tepid water which might come out of my faucet.

Anyway the point is this: if you are a girl and have boobies, as girls most likely do, check your boobies for Henry James. The guy is a dickface. The kind of bro who will show up to your place uninvited and eat all your cereal. Do you like cereal? Yes? Ok then check your boobies. Done and done.

So this morning, I come to the office and just like any other day at the office, I open my drawer to get out some papers. Documents, if you will. But what do I find underneath my documents?

MICE SHIT.

SHIT. FROM MICE.

How do I know it’s from mice and not say, a dog? Good point. I’m not sure. I can only ASSUME it’s from mice. I have not SEEN the beasts who have made the shits. It could very well be a dog. It could also be a minotaur. I hear those shit too. But let’s assume it’s mice. Once a co-worker came to the office and smelled something bad and it was a dead mouse. In his office.

MICE POOP IN MY DRAWER.

But wait! What if it’s just ONE mouse? How do you know it’s mice, as in plural of mouse? Hmm, good point. Well, there was a lot of poop. So it’s either one mouse with a very active and enthusiastic lower G.I. or a bunch of mice was slightly less active lower G.I.’s. But still active nonetheless. There was also dried pee.

I threw EVERYTHING out. All my documents. Totally. Fucking. Disgusting. I doused the thing with bleach wipes. I then I washed my hands with the bleach wipes, put hand sanitizer on them, and then washed my hands with soap.

I don’t even keep food in my drawers. I don’t even have food. Karina has my food, remember? So I think, what if they are LOOKING FOR A PLACE TO NEST. Oh my god. I’m getting the hurlies just thinking about this.

MICE! Poop! In! My! Drawers!

My friend Mary P-S tells me that mice do not like spearmint. You get spearmint oil, douse it on some cotton balls, shove it in the drawers, and hope they scamper off to somewhere else. Most likely to the desk next to me. I just purchased some spearmint oil on the tubes. If this shit doesn’t work, I’m lighting the whole place on fire. You think I’m kidding but I’m not. Do I work in an alley? No. I work in an office. A modern office, not some turn of the century Oliver Twist shit, you know what I mean? At least I don’t work above a Wendy’s, but still.

Hopefully the exterminator will come and napalm the building. And the city with it. But this won’t really help my drawers. I SHALL EMERGE THE VICTOR. I am outnumbered, no doubt, but I SHALL BE VICTORIOUS.

In other totally unrelated news, I am writing a movie on “cups, pints, quarts, and gallons” and was researching on the interwebz and googled “what comes in quarts?” Because, I wanted to know (other than milk, juice and paint.) And then I found this.

http://comesinquarts.com

Keep refreshing!!!