Friday, December 21, 2007

Can't escape my genes

I have been miserable for the past 3 weeks. Unexplained stomach aches and bathroom troubles I won't go into details about. And then I figured out that I had sudden onset of lactose intolerance. That blows! I love dairy.
I read somewhere that like 90-99% of all Asians have some form of it or other. Someone at work remarked that most of us develop it by their 20s, that I got an extra decade or so to enjoy dairy.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

The Motherland

Dear gentle and not-so-gentle readers, I'm off to the sin city of the east, my birthplace, Bangkok Thailand.
I used to be one of those "great" and "understanding" girlfriends that questioned when other girlfriends prohibited their beloveds from going to bachelor parties or having one. Well, ladies, I got my comeuppance. My wedding was in Thailand. No way was I going to let my Asian fetish husband have a bachelor party in Bangkok. Back then, the dollar was worth a little more than it is today, so a bevy of talented sex performers or sex geishas who could open beer bottles with their vaginas or write Happy Birthday from their crotches could be had for cheap. Sorry Josh, that your "bachelor" party even degraded to the point where a female friend tagged along.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Addicted to umami

Excerpt of definition of umami from wikipedia:
Umami is a Japanese word meaning "savory" or "meaty" and thus applies to the sensation of savoriness—specifically, to the detection of glutamates, which are especially common in meats, cheese and other protein-heavy foods. The action of umami receptors explains why foods treated with monosodium glutamate (MSG) often taste "fuller". MSG CrystalsNot only do I love junky soy burgers, but I can't get enough of MSG. I need a daily dose of it, in either sour cream and onion flavored chips or Thai instant noodles. I don't know why MSG has a bad rap. It occurs naturally in things like yeast or seaweed. I think some companies are trying to obscure that they use MSG equivalents by using disodium guanylate or disodium inosinate. Like Utz potato chips or Lipton instant side dishes. I haven't yet seen a product that uses these ingredients with a flagrant "NO MSG" label.
But anyway, I don't give a fuck. Please label "YES! LOTS OF MSG" or "UMAMI FOR YOU".

QUICK - Go see Ben Scaccia in Local Story!

I recently saw Local Story at the Access Theatre. The play is running until 12/20 so go run and get tickets or buy them at the door. Afterwards, go eat in Chinatown!
I really got into the plot. I can't watch TV or movies, they're too slick and irrelevant for me. Small productions are the way to go, they're going to monopolize my very large entertainment budget of like $20 per month.
The actors are all so well cast in Local Story. I have to plug our very own Ben Scaccia. He did some really convincing nerd trying to be a cool kid virgin-smoker sputtering bit. Ben and Leanne, if you're reading this, I'm going to see every play you star in. I've loved every role Ben has played.
After the show was over, Josh and I hung around because we wanted to talk to Ben a bit. Before Ben came out to meet us, some of his co-stars were already milling with the crowd. I like that. I like the intimacy of meeting the artists and I feel cool knowing that I know one of the actors.
As for the rest of the cast, it's a little weird to see them off stage because they were so convincing in their roles. Because the first experience I have with them is in an acting role, when I meet their real selves, the real selves are actually the actors to me. It's kind of like when you're a kid and you see your teacher at the mall. You get so freaked out to see them out of the usual context.
Ben -- GREAT WORK!! We had a great time watching and rooting for you.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Shameless marketing

Whoa! Read this article on how invasive ads are becoming...
An excerpt -- "How soon will it be until in addition to the do-not-call list, we'll have a 'do not beam commercial messages into my head' list?"

Monday, December 10, 2007

Fashionably insensitive and looking ageless

In a previous post, I gave examples of my sometimes avant-garde or ridiculous (you pick) get-ups. Well, I forgot to tell you about my other half. His glasses are detectably uneven and he owns (and wears!) an ill-fitting pumpkin-spiced color alpaca overcoat that he insists is pimpin'.
My pookie is also preternaturally well preserved in terms of his looks and clothes. It is so spooky to see pictures of him from 10 years ago or so wearing the same t-shirt he still wears today and looking exactly the same - age 22-24. It's not fair -- How can someone who shuns sunscreen look younger than me, totally high-SPF sunscreen obsessed? How can a goddamn t-shirt be wearable after 15 years of use?! If this trend continues, it won't be long before I have to drudge through stupid May-December jokes about how I robbed the cradle when I married him.
Meanwhile, I've changed and aged tremendously. I'm in the midst of cleaning and organizing my closets...and I bemoan having to throw out the preposterously small garments that were cut for a pixie. Should I save some of those things for my 2 yr old daughter to wear in a few years? It's so laughable that I don't even believe that I was ever that small.

I'm a total embarrassment

Mr. Rochester would probably keep me in the basement. I like to wear mis-matched bright colors. I combine trends. I own fluorescent pink imitation Crocs. I wear them with everything because I think they match everything. I have slouchy fuchsia leather elbow gloves. I fold hems of jeans hem up like 10 inches. If worse comes to worse and I don't have anything to wear, I think lingerie on top of white dress shirts are acceptable. I asked my mother-in-law to knit me a pair of arm-warmers. She and my father in-law thought I was joking.
I kinda feel sorry for my kids that I'm a total embarrassment, but I can't help it and in a strange and twisted way, I'm proud.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Asian parent sex trauma

Why do Asian parents insist on telling their kids what seems to them like harmless white lies about where babies come from? Many Asian friends have told me a recurring theme, that their parents told them they were found under a bridge. I guess my crazy, over-achieving parents overshot a little, as they told me I was found in a garbage can.
I have to be sure to give Sadie the proper and truthful "white" upbringing on where she came from. I'm curious which, if any American actually told their children they were brought in by a stork?
So I'm believing that the Asian way is at best untruthful and at worst harmful to some children's delicate psyches.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Stick it to OPEC

I've been giving my husband a lot of flack for his unconventional driving tactics that I thought were ineffective. Not only that, they seem unsafe and can be embarrassing to me.
As it turns out, there's support for this madness and even a term - "hypermiling" and it's probably effective.
Hypermiling = Driving with the goal to save gas (to increase mileage)...
For examples, he tries to avoid braking, shifts into neutral while going downhill, coasting/timing for greens at upcoming stop lights, etc. (Can you pls do this when the two babies are NOT in the car?!)
Check out these record-breaking hypermilers. Thanks Ari for the link.
Only people who can be so extremely focused (like my husband) can do this. I'd probably crash into other cars if I tried.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Suburban deals

SUPERMARKET
Tropicana OJ 96 oz for only $3. On top of that, if I spend $20, I can get $5 off my next shopping order. AND they will TRIPLE coupon...even a cheap person like me can't get it together (who the heck cuts coupons?) or figure out how to fit all this shit into my house. Hubby helpfully suggested we have more kids or get another fridge.

DEPARMENT STORE
Can you believe that I got this satin, down/feather filled coat with fur trim for like 60% off? Lord and Taylor was running a "Great Gifts" sale, so it was 40% off. I found a coupon online for an extra 20% off. And then I opened a charge and got an extra 15% off. I thought about stealing one in every color and length.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Unofficial past time of Thai people

For some reason, Thai people love to draw similarities of one object to another. When Josh and I hired a guide for a cave that had plentiful and impressive stalactite and stalagmite formations, one of the guide's joy was to tell us what he thought each looked like. Chicken, he'd point to one and so on and so forth. He even pulled my then fiancé aside to tell him about the one that he thought looked like a vagina. Also on the island of (Goh) Samui, one of the tourist attractions (determined by the Thai chamber of commerce?!) is dubbed Grandmother and Grandfather rock. What are they you ask? They are natural and giant rock formations that have eroded to look like external male and female reproductive organs.
Thai people also love to say that Thailand (the land mass) is shaped like an axe. I learned about this before I knew Italy was a boot. I wonder what other imaginative parallels I could draw had I remained in Thailand to complete my education.

Monday, December 3, 2007

I really heart fake meat

Fake meat has come a long way since I was a vegetarian in college. I had the most delectable spicy vegan chicken cutlet today, thanks to the good folks at Boca Burger. A little salty (560mg of sodium per serving) and fatty but none of these qualities stopped me from having two patties.
Big thumbs up! So satisfyingly junky tasting!!!

I even lied to my doctors about taking vitamins

Pregnant and nursing ladies everywhere, please don't be a smart-ass like me -- take your vitamins!!!
Even though I come from a family of vitamin worshippers, I was never a believer. What they're really taking are emotional vitamins, I thought. I just didn't believe that vitamins were well absorbed into the body. In addition, I resented that most cereals are fortified, so a quick read of the nutrion label is very deceptive. For example, inherent iron is so different from fortified iron. Nutrients should come from eating right, I argued. If you check out some multi-vitamin labels, you'll see over 100% of your daily recommened for water soluable vitamins like C. Who needs 533% of Vitamin C if you eat right?! It's so easy to get vitamin C in food.
I didn't even believe in pre-natal vitamins. Big scam feeding into our insecurites, eat right and all will be fine, I asserted. Vitamins can even be evil, I preached. Too much vitamin A is toxic. What if I had a supplement with vitamin A and proceeded to eat polar bear liver or any kind of liver. I might be potentially screwed. I even came up with a mantra to overlook vitamins and doing so kept my life simple - nothing to buy, nothing to remember, nothing to worry about. The mantra - If vitamins were really effective, then we could subsist and thrive on just water, white bread and vitamins. I was pretty sure this solution was not a simple and cheap cure for malnourishment in Africa.
But recently I've changed my tune. 3 years of being pregnant and nursing have really depleted my reserves of iron, calcium and who knows what else.
As it turns out, there is some truth to my past eschewal of vitamins. For example, most iron supplements are very poorly absorbed and they cause constipation. They should be taken off the market and goddamn cereal makers should remove iron, vitamin c and other nutrients that are either easy to get in food or hard to get. It's so deceptive to think that eating a bowl of Total is going to give you quality iron. A really effective iron supplement is liquid Floradix. It really helped my anemia and did not cause constitpation. But then again, when I was diagnosed with anemia, I focused on eating a lot of iron-rich foods. Iron is a tough nutrient to get if you deplete your stores (which can last for years). Amazingly if you deplete the iron stores in your body, you need like 6 servings of beef or oysters to fulfill the daily requirement. So the Floradix boost was a help.
Calcium is another toughie. I don't think calcium is well absorbed from supplements either. Since I'm nursing I need twice the recommended calcium of a non-pregnant woman. 6-8 glasses of milk per day would do it! So I need to find an effective calcium supplement.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Are we hot or not?

I'm generally happy and satisfied about our wedding in Thailand. With the exception of the typical hassles, dramas and disappointments of a destination wedding, I was pleased with how it was organized, how it turned out blah blah blah.
But I hate my wedding album. My mom picked out the pictures for us and it turns out, she either discerns expressions very poorly or our tastes for pictures are polarized. Josh and I like pictures where we look genuinely happy together. I thought that this is something most people could agree based on prior experience that Josh and I had agreed on what makes a picture look good. Most of the photos that my mom picked for our album had expressions that were so affected or we appear pinched - so we're either gritting our teeth to smile or we look constipated. She claims we look demure. I looked at her wedding album and not one smile from her or my dad. She says that back then if you smiled for photographs, then you were a punk or a slut. Not one smile in her entire wedding album and practically not even one real smile in mine.

She also picked out the photograph for our thank you cards. I really like the sepia tone and antique look to the finish, but I don't like the picture. I look like a cheesy adoring mail order bride, with that weird insecure gaze fixed on my megalomaniac camera-loving but also tired white knight. See for yourself. Do you agree that I look like a total FOB? Why oh why couldn't she have picked a picture where we are both looking at each other or the camera?


Got back on that horse

So excited! Yesterday I finally got the motivation to start exercising again. It's hard when I take any kind of a break, in this case it was only 10 days but my slobby self got used to not exercising even though I felt terrible.
I revisited our marriage vows, one of them was that we are going to challenge each other physically. I think both of us need to be more conscious in fulfilling this promise to each other.
What's great about being in shape is how helpful it is in certain situations. Like when you're running to catch a train or a bus, you become so pleasantly surprised by your abilities. This morning, I ran to catch a train just for the hell of it and it felt GREAT. Because I got the exercise that I needed, I'm a much better and nicer person...but at what expense?
My dilemma is that Ari is generally right and so is my husband. And I generally believe everything I hear especially if it comes from a man. My husband and Ari generally agree on a wide variety of issues. But their expert viewponts diverge on exercise. What's a confused, gullible, easily-impressionable man-follower to do?
Is Ari right that exercising is like a form of socially acceptable cocaine? Am I just getting a feel good high at the expense of my knees in my old age? Have I been brainwashed in thinking that exercise is good for you? Are we dealing with an information cascade?
Or is Josh right that regular vigorous exercise is good for you in the short term and the long term?
My health and marriage vows are at stake here. I need advice!

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Unbridled lust

(begin whine-y voice) It's not fair! (end whine-y voice)
My husband never wants anything and I'm always lusting after various goodies. He grew up in a household that recycled sesame seeds from bagels to be re-used in sesame chicken stir-fry (disclaimer: his parents deny this), while I grew up in a household that allowed each kid to have their own shopping cart and we put in any junk-y grocery item that fancied us.
My mother worked all the time and probably felt guilty so we could have almost anything we wanted. Back then, our whims were pretty inexpensive, not like the desires of kids nowadays. Ironically, even though our whims were satisfied, we grew up pretty poor during my early childhood. We lived in a one bedroom apartment in Queens but I never felt like we lacked anything. We were the total ghetto-fabulous stereotype -- we lived in a small cramped apartment but some of us wore expensive sneakers. Once a month, when my mother had a day off, she would take us to the Botanical Garden or some such activity and we were allowed to run amok satisfying any of our street vendor whims and to top it off, she would let us get anything we wanted at McDonald's. I must be the only person on earth who misses the old chicken Mcnuggets. I have fond memories of the dark chicken matter mash.
The way Josh grew up was completely different. As a result, he is so disciplined with money to the point where he doesn't event want anything. Help! I need an outlet. So I'm going to make a Christmas list (since we don't celebrate Christmas and I'm sure that I probably won't get anything from this list).
I WANT:

  1. A knitting machine (with some really nice and exotic yarns)
  2. Two really nice hairbrushes that costs like $50 each - a small one and a large one
  3. A digital SLR camera with killer zoom lens that will be bigger than John Holmes'
  4. A dual layer DVD burner or some other solution for archiving my kids' pictures
  5. Software: font utility tool, various fonts and video editing
  6. More diamonds mua hahahahahaha
  7. A Sadie and Dazee collage similar to the one I have one of our wedding that is 4' by 3'.
  8. Quarterly services of a professional photographer
  9. Annual family portrait in oil
It's amazing I can get along so well with someone so monetarily disciplined. I got the cheapest one I could find and I'm pretty happy with him.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I'm pathetic

It's been a week and a half since I last vigorously exercised. I'm often grumpy, sleepy, tired, out of sorts and my knee hurts. I'm going to have to find motivation to start up again. I'm just a bad mom, daughter, and person when I don't get good exercise.

Facebook - You're a hypocrite and I'm a liar

Earlier, I ranted about how I could not use my real last name to sign up for a Facebook account. I surmised that "Star" is completely forbidden, as I could not add it as a middle, last, first or maiden name without some kind of appeal to Facebook. I shied away from appealing because I don't like bureaucracy and the wording of the appeal process seems so serious. To my foreign born sensitivities, this is a scary thing. I felt like I might need to appear in court or get notarized documents or be involved in something legally binding that I was going to ultimately regret. Like the authorities will take me away from my children or something because my proof to Facebook was considered counterfeit or whatever.
Luckily, someone else did the leg work so I can enlighten you about the appeal process. My sister in law shares the same last name as me and is apparently less paranoid than me because she went ahead with the appeal process (must've found it simple and non-threatening) and won! Hurray! A few days later, she's on Facebook as her real name.
But now that I've been using Facebook for a few weeks, I am really creeped out. I am relieved that I've used my maiden name. Only people who truly know me would be able to find me. And just for an extra layer of security, I made my profile private to just Facebook friends(but I like to refer to them as "friendsters" because I'm not really friends with them.).
But these privacy protecting measures are not good enough for me anymore, because Facebook is keeping tabs on a lot of online activity and sharing it willy nilly. I'm upset that on one hand, they treat privacy very casually by sharing your information while on the other they insist on this real name business (with a built-in appeal process and scary terms of use agreements no less!). If they are going to be privy to who I actually am and where I live, then they need to revise their privacy policies to treat my identity and actions as professionally and delicately as an online bank would.
Recently I scored a huge coup. I got the courage to appeal to Facebook for a name change to Cassandra Jupiter. In an unexpected whilrlwind, it was approved and my new name was activated in less than 24 hours, even though their noncomittal and slightly threatening (vis a vis bureaucracy) fine print lead me to believe otherwise.
I don't know if this is going to hurt me and my social networking goals in the long run but for now, I'm quite pleased that I was able to change my name and pull some wool over the Facebook nazis.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

This is a first for me - I'm as pure as newly fallen snow

My sister in law apparently has an insatiable appetite for raunchiness. I look to you, dear readers to come up with suggestions for some racy blogs or websites that she can visit (for free) because I can not satisfy her. Luckily, she still "respects me as a person" even though she doesn't think I have "any raunchy" in me.

Monday, November 26, 2007

This one's for you, BS...

After some thought and soul searching, if my ANR post was not "dirty", "raunchy", "disgusting" or "exciting" enough, I have to say that I give up. I'm afraid what you're asking for would definitely be crossing a lot of different lines and we're both going to regret it.
I do have another ANR type story that you might like...
I pump milk at work and I use a "hands-free pumping bra" so that I don't have to maintain a grasp or pressure on plastic milk bottles and breast shields against my chest. In any case, if you're not familiar with pumping or what it looks like (it's totally wacky) -- below are two pictures of a model using the hands free pumping bra. Of course, the pictures aren't totally realistic. In the real world, you're not smiling when you're pumping, there's milk in the bottles, your nipples are not airbrushed, and so on and so forth.
In any case, someone at work had walked in on me doing this. It is one of the most humiliating experiences in my life. I know my vagina was on a display shelf in the hospital when I was giving birth and it seemed like everyone had a go with their fingers and hands (hopefully these were not gratuitous feels). Even though I reluctantly and publicly went to third base (skipping first and second to boot) with all these medical professionals, somehow there's nothing more humiliating than having co-workers see you half dressed and attached to pumping paraphernalia. The ridiculousness of the contraptions makes even a shameless person like me shrink like a wet witch.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

The people want juicy!

So my sister in law is totally goading me (not that I need much encouragement) by telling me that my blog isn't nearly as dirty or raunchy as she hoped or expected. I have a few ideas percolating; I'm determined to fulfill her wildest blog dreams...When you have a relative like Josh, you probably can't help but want to hear something embarassing, exciting or nasty. He can be so good and pure, like his mouth full of filling-free teeth, it makes all of us want to gasp in envious scornful disgust with our rotten multi-root-canal-ed teeth.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

NOT synthetic diamonds!

Wow, I was really psyched. I was ready to to "trade up" my real diamond ring for one of these lab-created and conflict-free diamonds from Diamond Nexus. All of their advertising seems to lead me to believe that they are synthetic diamonds - created in a lab with the same chemical and physical properties as a real diamond. However, they are actually simulants like Asha diamond or cubic zirconia (CZ). This FAQ addressed most of my questions regarding simulants and synthetics.
I have a pair of Asha earrings set in platinum and I'm disappointed with them. The problem with them is that unlike a real diamond, when they get dirty, they lose a lot of their light dispersion and look muddy to me. And they cost way more than they should.
I also have a cultured or synthetic Takara pink diamond and it is fabulous! But they only sell colored diamonds and the colors tend to be somewhat fake - too deeply saturated with a violet like mineral glow. Finally, these synthetics are priced about the same as a mined white diamond. I would like to see white synthetic diamonds for sale and for cheap in the market place in my lifetime. C'mon GE, anybody I'm waiting for you.
I don't have anything to say about moissanite and this ends my diamond drool post.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Butternut Squash Ravioli Learns

After reviewing and consulting more than 5 recipes on the Internet for butternut squash ravioli, here is what I've learned if you want to use wonton wrapper instead of making your own pasta.
First I have to preface everything by telling you what kind of a cook I am. I double to quadruple all calls for herbs and vegetables (e.g. onions, garlic, shallots, celery, broccoli, etc.). I halve or third all instructions for any kinds of fats (e.g. butter, oil, etc.). Then I double to quadruple everything again because I like to cook for an army. I'm not shy to substitute (majoram for sage, etc.); there's nothing I hate more than having an inspiration to cook something quashed by a practicality like I don't have an ingredient available. (I made marsala chicken once without marsala wine, it turned out well but it didn't taste like marsala chicken) And I never ever measure ANYTHING.
Onward to using wonton wrappers - one recipe noted that you should use 4 wrappers per ravioli. I didn't try this but it seems like a good idea since the singly wrapped ravioli are exteremely fragile. I didn't do this because it felt too starchy. So if you want to use one wonton wrapper per ravioli, keep this in mind:

  1. One wrapper per ravioli has diastrious results for boiling. DO NOT BOIL SINGLY WONTON WRAPPED RAVIOLI, IT IS MUSHY AND DISGUSTING. For best results, fry them or brush with some butter and bake at 375 for about 10 minutes or whatever.
  2. For the sauce, I had excellent results with browning some butter with salt, majoram (or sage) and thinly sliced almonds. Serve immediately with the fried or baked ravioli with grated parmesan.
  3. And fresh herbs really do make a difference! I sent my sister to the grocery store for parsley (with dried parsley in mind). She showed up with fresh parsley and it really enhanced the recipe. Thanks Siri!
  4. As soon as you wrap the ravioli, bake or fry ASAP as the raviolis sitting in a tray in as little as 15 minutes will have undesirable moisture creep in. Not a good dish for making ahead of time. But if you insist on doing this, make sure you separate each layer with wax paper and maybe even coat the raviolis and the paper with some cooking spray. And whatever you do, make sure the raviolis never touch each other, it will become a sticky mess.
  5. This is also not a good dish to serve as a meal. Because it's so rich, it should be reserved as an appetizer.
  6. This is not a good dish to make for an army. I was really stupid to make this for 8 people. It turned out well but I would never try to do this for more than 4.
  7. Do not overstuff.
  8. I had good results in roasting the squash in a shallow pan with a little water (.25 inch or whatever) at 375 for about 30 mins.
  9. Finally, if you have square wonton wrappers, folding them in half (so they form a triangle) yielded the best results. Even though I am skilled in orgami, it does not translate well to wrapping wonton ravioli. Credit goes to Josh for coming up with this idea that all of us nearly died of laughter when we first saw it. They looked so large and awkward. I guess we all had dainty and cute ravioli in mind.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Connie-chiwa

I'm really excited! If all goes as planned, I'm going to see my college roommate Connie this weekend. I haven't seen her in almost 2 years! She's a super user of text messaging from a cell phone while I have no clue. Once I noticed that I had this envelope icon on my cell phone; it was a text from Connie that was 4 months old! Yesterday, I tried four times to text something back to her until I just threw my hands in the air and gave up.
This text boycott started when Josh informed me that they were not covered under our plan, that we had to pay 2 cents each (plus tax) or whatever to send and receive them. One of his friends even texted him, I owe you 10 cents. Hahaha! He told me a story about how when he was growing up, long distance on the telephone was a big thing. Like if anyone called long distance and if they had to pass the phone to a different speaker, it was done in a really nervous, hot-potato fashion, as to conserve every second possible. I'm sure this is true and it makes me laugh like crazy. Because when I was growing up, we used to call Thailand all the time and talk about nothing. Talking about nothing with our friends and relatives would easily amount to $400 a month.
In college, my then-boyfriend would call India and easily ring up $700 per month phone bills. This makes Josh crouch in terror, while I'm comfortable with the idea that staying in touch costs $$$.
When we first started dating, I took many business trips -- they were always in the US, but he would never call me. He feared that I was roaming or that he might go over his minutes. I called him once from the Bahamas and I could feel his balls sweating.
It's really funny how we now have VoIP so phone calls are practically free, although the quality sucks. But now, I realize that the $$$ is a front for his reticence. He'd just rather not talk on the phone. 6 years of calling him a cheap bastard when I should have known, that's he's just a regular old bastard!!!!

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Thanksgiving Update

I've been slaving in the kitchen for 6 hours and finally, I have two trays in the oven. I have no motivation to keep going -- it's 8:30, my drunk husband's not home yet, my 2 yr old is sick and my legs are killing me! But I have to make 2 more trays of food!
The butternut squash ravioli is killing me. I might have to change mid-way to butternut squash mash or something!

Enormasaurus Rex


Here's the first t-shirt design that I've made for Daisy. I have so many ideas for chubby babies. And for dinosaurious personalities, like Blogasaurus or Crankasaurus for me. Stay tuned.
Do you like the Enormasaurus in caps or mixed case?

Happy Thanksgiving and Sorry Josh!

Over the next few days, I'm going to be preoccupied with cooking for Thanksgiving, making funny & dirty t-shirts for everyone I know and spending a lot of dough (sorry Josh)!!!!
Yesterday I had a relatively expensive lunch for me. The bill for two of us came out to $32. (Not including tip, sorry Josh). But you know what? America is priceless! That same meal could've been 32 euros. Take advantage that our dollars are worth shit everywhere else by staying home or taking a vacation in America.
I don't feel like there's been any inflation or price increase since the 80s for these staples: food, clothing, electronics, appliances and cars. However, I'm really feeling the pinch in: real estate, airfares, hotels, gas and college education for my brats.
I'm going to Thailand this December but after that, all my vacations are going to be in good old US of A. We're going to Hawaii in February and Alaska in the summer. I can't wait. My dollars will go really far here. Compared to other countries, everything here can be had for practically nothing. Thank you citizens of China, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and UAE.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Holy batballs, no dinar for you!

The rich Persian Gulf states - e.g. SA, UAE and Qatar have their currencies pegged to the dollar and may abandon the peg or change the level of the peg!
America as we know it is going to shit. We need cheap oil, cheap clothes from a sweatshop and cheap plastic goods. We have to pray that our friends China, SA, UAE and Qatar continue to piss off their citizens by retaining the dollar peg at current levels.

Why I don't hobnob with men over the Internet

After giving birth to my first daughter, I had a difficult time with breastfeeding. I hired a lactation consultant to come over to teach me the ropes. It worked out pretty well; after she left, I felt more confident about how to breastfeed. As it turns out, she was also an area La Leche leader and she invited me to one of their meetings. I attended and found it helpful and supportive. Unfortunately, there was only one other mother at this meeting besides me. My La Leche leader friend was hoping to grow membership in this working mothers group.
So in the community and kids section of Craiglist, I posted about the our next upcoming La Leche meeting along with details of how to contact me. Of course no one contacted me except a pervert. He wrote some horrifying things to me in an email. I've blocked most of the tramautic details out except for one acronym: ANR. Adult nursing relationship!!!!! The sick fuck wanted to nurse or milk me!
I went to my husband for strength and comfort about how evidently wrong this was, for this asshole to email me this disgusting solicitation when my post was clearly targetted for female members in a nursing mothers support group. He gave a pretty clinical viewpoint, "Well what if you were interested? Then it would have worked out great for the both of you...I don't see anything wrong with what he did?" At that point, I didn't know which asshole I wanted to harm first.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Bonus rare pic...


In a rare moment, we were able to fit all of these personalities in one picture! From the top, clockwise - the robot, the blabbermouth dabbler, the kvetch and the golden pig.

Ahead of our time for insults and slurs

My husband wrote a pretty interesting response to an article published in the Oct. 15 issue of the New Yorker, The Blow-Up Artist, which portrayed Victor Niederhoffer's trading style (and unconventional lifestyle).
Two responses to the article were published in our most recent New Yorker and I have to say I'm unimpressed. Why didn't they publish Josh's response? Before I tell you about my conspiracy theory, let me share his response with you.
This is a short version you can email to your friends:
Hey, you heard of Victor Niederhoffer? I just read an article in the New Yorker about him about how he speculates in futures using massive leverage, and I remember his orders from when I was a floor trader in options at the CME … at the time we thought the client was a middle eastern oil sheik, and we always called his distinctive orders from “the sheik” (He was always always selling size downside puts on the S&P) … anyway, turns out it was this Niederhoffer … and then when he blew up in ‘97 or ‘98, and his clearing firm liquidated his positions in the morning (which would have been winners if they just waited until the afternoon) … I was making options markets that felt entirely obscene at the time. I always felt a little sorry for the guy that day … now I know who it was.
This is what he actually sent to New Yorker:
The Sheik!
In 1996 and 1997 I was a floor trader in the futures options pit of the S&P500 at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. There was one broker for Refco, who generally handled medium to small sized orders. From time to time, though, he would show up with a very large order: almost always to sell downside puts. This is a very risky, highly leveraged strategy, and it had a very distinct signature. At the time, we didn’t know the orders were from Niederhoffer: but we knew they were from one particular client. On the floor, we called him “The Sheik”, for we assumed he must be someone with a ton of money, looking for some financial excitement. Whenever the broker began to represent an order bearing the signature of the Sheik, we would telegraph the trade to our counterparts across the (loud) trading floor by miming wrapping a turban around our heads – that was the hand signal that everyone recognized as the Sheik. In October of 1997, not long after the Sheik had renewed a sizeable signature position in the options, the S&P500 was down nearly 7% one day. The next morning, the market opened up down 3%, and the Refco broker representing the Sheik was actually buying his position back. We could tell by the nature of the orders that it was his brokerage firm closing him out of business (and not the Sheik voluntarily covering positions), and I won’t say that we didn’t take advantage of the situation. To close out positions that big all at once when there was already significant panic in the marketplace incurred extraordinary price increases. Options that were sold for as little as $3 the day before were being bought back for as much as $50.
Around 11 AM that same day, the market started rising – and it actually closed up over 5% on the day – surely enough that Refco wouldn’t have liquidated Niederhoffer’s position if they had just waited a few hours. The options that went from $3 to $50 were back to $3. We never did see another order from the Sheik after that, and it was only years later that I discovered this “Sheik” was actually a hedge fund manager named Niederhoffer (And I always wondered if he knew he was referred to as “the Sheik”.) But I did learn a little bit about leverage and timing that has helped me in my trading career since then: when you’re at the end of your leverage, and the margin calls are coming in, time is one thing you just don’t have.
I'm pretty sure they didn't publish this because Middle Eastern citizens and advocacy groups would send them hate mail.
So it brings me to the point of the title of this post. In the mid-90s my husband used a turban-wrapping mime for the word sheik, when he met me in May 2001, he playfully called me Osama and finally in July 2001, I jested that one of his friends looked like a terrorist. What all of these slurs have in common is that they were all said before September 11th. Now our past statements' follies have grown in size and they've come back to haunt us because most people don't realize that they were said prior to 9/11. They don't give us any credit or slack for being the modern-day Cassandra for insults and slurs. Stick with us and you'll totally offend everyone. Sadly their rage for you will only grow and grow and only you will know about the misattribution error.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Dollar got you down?

I am so pissed off that the dollar is practically worthless. I blame it all on Bush and the war. The only reason why it's worth anything is because of China. As soon as they stop pegging the yuan to the dollar, we are all fucked.
Let's fantasize about the past...I have fond memories of visiting Italy in 2001. Everything was thousands of lira but it always worked out to only a few dollars. Everything was so cheap and affordable; whenever I ate a meal I liked I had Donald Trump-esque condescending thoughts...Hmmm I wonder if I should buy this restaurant?
And now, can you believe that the Canadian dollar is on par with ours? What's an American to do?
Get yourself a personal assistant from Bangalore! Check out Ask Sunday, and this newstory. For $30 a month, your PA from India will run the kinds of errands where physical presence isn't needed. Your Indian PA will dispute charges on your credit card, book frequent flier rewards and stay on the phone for these types of time consuming, hold-intensive and often frustrating errands.
Recently I've been so frustrated with trying to book frequent flier rewards with Emirates Airlines. It's obvious to me that their call center is outsourced to India. I can tell by the fuzzy connection and the accent. Who do they think they're fooling with their ridiculous pseudonyms like Steve? I know your real name is something like Subhabrata, not Steve!
So I see another benefit to outsourcing your errands to India...imagine your PA calling Emirates, asking for "Steve". I'm sure that "Steve" will immediate recognize my PA's accent and ask, Hey where are you from? And then they'll start rapping about India. Now as the conversation gets friendlier, you can imagine they might start talking about their work. You work for an American call center? Me too! Where do you work? In Bangalore. Me too! Blah blah blah and the ultimate climax that I'm hoping for -- realizing that they're in the same building, my PA will stand on his chair and hi-five Steve over the cubicle wall. Everybody wins! I'm so happy that for a few worthless dollars, I get to use my miles without talking to anyone. And if anyone wonders how I can possibly claim mileage rewards so effortlessly, I can say truthfully, through my connections.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

I want you back

12 hours into my new vegetarian diet and I've already cheated. It's impossible for me to make such drastic changes without personal sacrifices or ill feelings. Around lunch time, I was so cranky and bitchy, I started yelling at my poor mother about how I didn't want to buy baby "nursery" water and that regular bottled water or boiled water was good enough for Daisy if not better than whatever tenuous processing or manufacturing standards evil corporations hold themselves to. This drove my germ-a-phobic, corporate-trusting mother over the edge and we had an incomprehensible shouting match in broken English and Thai about the said waters.
Flash forward to 18 hours after my diet started and I've eaten shrimp, pork, chicken and beef. 4 species! I'm pathetic. And I want to exercise so badly...Looks like I'm going to have to go crawling back to my old and unhealthy lifestyle. I'm sorry I thought the grass was greener on the other side; I want you back; the mac and cheese with tomatoes that I had last night meant nothing to me; I need meat, 6 meals a day and 3 days a week of exercise, PUH-LEEEEZ take me back; I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!

Friday, November 16, 2007

Anathema to my dogma but good for dogs!

OK, starting from when I finish my huge, carnivorous, multi-species lunch, I'm going to try some new things, per Ari's comments (re: exercise is bad for you). I'm going to stop exercising and I'm going on a diet. Plus just to make this more ethically satisfying, I'm also going to modify my diet to be a semi-vegetarian. I'll continue to consume seafood, dairy and eggs but I'm going to cut out all land animal meats.
Normally this sounds so stupid and faddish to me with my history of quick to make lifestyle and diet judgements. For example, my husband trained only one month (!) for the Burlington marathon. I thought this was pure idiocy. Not only that, he decided to go on a diet at the same time. I think he might have lost some weight but his boobs are still bigger than mine. Hahahahah! (But is that a worse insult to me or him?!)
A few months ago, my sometime exercise-bulimic husband decided to go on a liquid diet. Again I thought this was pure idiocy and I couldn't believe his parents didn't try to stop him.
So I wonder how this new regimen of no meat, little food and no exercise is going to fare out for me.

Hooray! I'm 5 lbs away from my blushing bride weight! And boo hoo, I'm Larry David and so is my husband.

I owe my current 5lbs away from my wedding weight figure mostly to exercising because I'm sure that I will crush anyone in my weight class in an eating contest. Aside from being a slave to blogs, I'm also a slave to food because I need 6 meals a day. The other day, as I was waiting for my udon, a chubby Asian guy struck up a conversation with me about how he really shouldn't be eating udon because he wanted to lose weight. (We both ordered 2 udons!) I told him that what really matters is exercise. It was a well-intentioned tip, but his reaction to it was so terrible. I think he thought I agreed that he needed to lose weight. What he probably wanted to hear from me were reassuring words like, You don't need to lose any weight. In that surreal moment, I felt like my husband, who is often clueless about what kind of lies I want to hear.
4 days after I gave birth to my first daughter, I was at my lowest low. Aside from your run of the mill vaginal bleeding and other usual suspects of after-birth pain, a few other things were bringing me down. Breastfeeding was so hard for me; it hurt so bad every time my barracuda baby wanted to eat, I cried real tears of fright and pain. Just to put the breastfeeding nipple pain in perspective, I gave birth without any drugs - no epidural, no pain medication, no nothing. On top of that, my baby was losing weight and turning yellow, a sure sign of jaundice. We had to take her to the hospital every day to get her blood drawn to check her bilirubin levels. Then we had to go to the pediatrician's office to hear scary sermons because her weight loss was getting very medically worrisome. OK, did you get all that... I've got massive pain in my vagina, ass and nipples; I haven't slept a wink in 4 days; my hormones are playing mean tricks on me and my firstborn is near death.
Stupidly, I step on a scale at the pediatrician's office, hoping to feel better about not being big and pregnant. Horror of horrors, I had only lost 7 lbs. I had a mental breakdown right then and there. How is this possible?! The baby weighed 7 lbs 5 oz. at birth. The placenta, blood loss and all that other icky stuff is supposed to be another 10 lbs. I was truly at the lowest of the low. I've never heard of anyone gaining weight 4 days after giving birth. Apparently I just created a new statistic.
My husband remained silent at this horror scene while I was secretly eager for some reassuring lies. I could tell that he was afraid to say anything, which became a self-fulfilling prophesy because his fearful silence is enraging me. He is the only guy that I've ever dated that doesn't know how to respond to the question, Do I look fat? It's a trap, right? he helpfully asks. ARRGHHH!!! It takes so much self-control to not strangle this idiot that I married. But let me end on a romantic note, because we are surely lucky to find each other, each of one of us, a strange statistical outlier, among you normal weight-losing and reassuring lie-adept population.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Breastfeeding in public -- it's a right!

Recently I was at our synagogue (pretty big building with many rooms) and I had to nurse (feed) my baby. I sought out a staff member to recommend where I should do it. I was appalled by her answer, the ladies room. What?!?! You go eat your freakin' lunch in the bathroom poopy head! I'm really pissed off! Do you eat your meals near a toilet?! I'd like to feed my baby where it doesn't smell like feces for both of us.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Dear Larry David...

I've been meaning to write to you about some possible concepts to use on your show. (I haven't seen Season 6 yet because my cheap Jewish husband cancelled our HBO and Netflicks won't send us the DVD, so hopefully these concepts are not already done on your show.)
The scene is at a synagogue during Rosh Hashanah. A long, orderly snakelike line has formed; upon reaching the first position of the line, each Jew hands over the ticket so that s/he may be seated.
Josh and I are on the outskirts of the line loudly arguing about whether we should cut in front of the line to ask the ticket taker a question or stand in the line to ask a question.
Ultimately, we see another person behind the ticket taker so we go over there to ask our question.
"I know it's really late but we just moved into the area and we'd really like to get seats for the service..." I stammer. I elbow Josh, as it's his cue to say a Jewish ice breaker that is mentally satisfying to a Jew. Like a few short words that a non-Jew might zone out but to another Jew, it would communicate what kind of Jew he is, how he was brought up and whether he can read Hebrew.
"Well, we only have one ticket," says the temple staff.
"Obviously, I should go because I'm Jewish," says Josh ala Larry David. (with comic menacing look while shaking a fist at me)
"What are you talking about?!" I scream, as I'm spiralling out of control. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN MARRY A JEW. AT LEAST I MARRIED A JEW! I SHOULD GET THE TICKET, I'M MORE JEWISH THAN YOU!"
The Jews standing in line side with me and admonish him for marrying me.

Here are the concepts
1: When you have a question, should you cut a line to ask it or enter the line and wait?
2: Jews like to appraise the Jewishness of other Jews
3: Who's more Jewish, the Jew or the one who married one?

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

What's wrong...ala Highlights

On Sunday, I was in a super rush to get to a wedding on time. About 10 minutes to departing our home, I commanded my husband to dress our younger daughter, Daisy. Aww man! he grumbles. About 1.5 hours later, I'm in hysterics as I realize poor Daisy has her dress on backwards. We quickly corrected it during the ceremony and took before/after pics. Can you tell which is which? (I feel like it's so obvious just from her expression...)




Image A

Image B

One blog to rule them all...

Last night my husband asked for my opinion on something. I told him I'd have to see what the blog thinks. I then had to explain that I don't really exist anymore; I'm a servant of the blog...much like the people who got corrupted by the ring. I "live" for the blog.

Monday, November 12, 2007

This is your brain on Facebook

After 2 nights wiff Facebook, I be totally hooked. 2 hours flew by in uh blink an' here'swhat I accomplished: 1. Read 30 or so updates on what muh ma fuckin "friends" gots been up ta (like Stefani received uh fish from Aaron) while We be both online 2. Clicked on profiles o' niggas o' niggas an' read what they've been up ta on Facebook an' 3. Searched fo' some "lost" niggas an' acquaintances. Why iz dis here so addictive?! My sister'sright about Friendster being passe, it'snot uh blocked website at werk, but Facebook iz. The smart folks know dat Facebook iz like crack-cocaine. How can we's git any werk done when all we's wants ta do iz smoke some pimp-tight Facebook? w0rd!

Translation: After 2 nights with Facebook, I am totally hooked. 2 hours flew by in a blink and here's what I accomplished: 1. Read 30 or so updates on what my "friends" have been up to (like Stefani received a fish from Aaron) while we're both online 2. Clicked on profiles of friends of friends and read what they've been up to on Facebook and 3. Searched for some "lost" friends and acquaintances. Why is this so addictive?!
My sister's right about Friendster being passe, it's not a blocked website at work, but Facebook is. The smart folks know that Facebook is like crack-cocaine. How can we get any work done when all we want to do is smoke some good Facebook?

I used the Ebonics translator (misnomer!) to generate the first part of my post. Funny stuff.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Sisterly love



Right now they mostly ignore each other so when I take pictures, I try to pose them as lovey-dovey. Hopefully they'll be the best of friends when they get older, as they are only 2 years apart.


Saturday, November 10, 2007

British Standard Handful

Part V
So my husband emailed this response, "Although the 'grab a handful' technique is less scientific, if done by an expert, it probably works too." to Ari's comment about using water displacement as a way to measure the volume of breasts. I thought his comment to be filthy and unhelpful.
As it turns out, someone else thought of this, and made the concept funny and palatable to me, introducing the British Standard Handful!
Here's an excerpt "...One BSH is defined as the amount of breast that could be held by Henry VIII's right hand..."
Do go to the link, British Standard Handful and read the whole thing. It pokes fun at other favorite targets, such as the unhelpful metric system.
Read more Bra Saga.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Plugs for Chris Elliot, Wikipedia, MOTR and little known sitcoms

I am a big fan of the short-lived sitcom that was broadcast in the early 90s, Get a Life. The show starred Chris Elliott as a 30 yr old paperboy living with his family and featured Stand by REM as its theme song. I thought it was the funniest and bravest thing on TV.
Many years later, when I was reminiscing about this show, very few people knew what I was talking about. I was hoping to find episode synopsises on the Internet. All I could dig up were some Chris Elliott bios that mentioned this show as stint on his resume.
Flash to around 2001, I discovered MTR (Museum of Television and Radio). You can actually watch or listen to most stuff that has been broadcast on TV or radio ("It is a curated collection. Programs have been selected on the basis of artistic achievement, social impact, or historic significance.") in your own console and they even have family consoles (for up to 4). So I got better than episode synopsises, I watched actual episodes of Get a Life at a classy museum joint. How cool is that?!
6 years later, 2007, I find a Wikipedia entry on Get a Life and learned that 2 DVDs were released! The timing is impeccable, I was just feeling so bummed that I've seen every episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Chris Elliott's jokes never get old for me -- "I just won the genetic lottery!" he proclaims on one show. While I wait for my Get a Life DVDs, I'm going to watch static-y, low quality videos from Youtube of another old sitcom, The Charmings and another brave show, Whoops Apocalypse. Here is the IMDB episode guide to Whoops Apocalypse. I'm so happy that commercially unsuccessful shows from the 80s and early 90s that I loved actually have cult followings.
HOURS upon HOURS can be killed at MTR!!! They totally need a dating scene. Or go there with your kids and watch My Little Pony, JEM, Snorks, Kissyfur, Gummi Bears, Thundercats etc.!!!

Thursday, November 8, 2007

One for the husband

I complain all the time to my husband about how he selfishly hoards good experiences from me. For example, it can be an article he read in New Yorker that touched him in some way, but he mentions it in passing months later by casually asking me something to the effect of..."Did you read that article in New Yorker about chocolate...there was an interesting point on..." Of course I haven't and we've never spoken about it until now. Which irritates me for two reasons: One, I have a perception that when our New Yorker arrives, he snatches its up, devours its contents, then puts it in the garbage when he's done, so poor little me, I never get any literary stimulation and feel left in the lurch. Two, if I read or experience something interesting, emotional, stimulating, etc. I like to share it with him and get his take. (I'm trying to make this easier on both of us by making him read my blog instead of talking to him.)
Well recently, he gave me the equivalent of three dozen roses by sending me the link to the Transcript of Commencement Speech at Stanford given by Steve Jobs with a terse subject: I like this. I really enjoyed it, I cried through it and found it very inspirational. Thanks Josh! I love you.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Measuring the weight or volume of breasts...

Part IV
Ari left a comment on my post on the importance of the third measurement. "Maybe a water displacement system would work best... you dip your breasts into a tub of water and note how much the water level rises for a true measure of their volume."
Even though I'm a lazy science retard, this point merited additional research. I learned about the principle of Archimedes: If the object is less dense than water (if it floats on water), it displaces a weight of water equal to the weight of the object. If the object sinks in water, it simply displaces a volume of water equal to the volume of the object.
Thank goodness for the wonderfully wacky Internet, someone else thought of this idea and executed it, the British, no less! I found this article on dipping your boobs in warm water as a first step to finding the right bra. (Funny enough it was a total coincidence, I didn't actively search for this article, I came across it while reading about the devaluation of the dollar against the euro -- which has me completely pissed at Bush, but I'll blog about that later.)
Because breasts are attached to women, how can we ever do the water displacement method with precision? Would they sink or swim on their own, literally and figuratively? Does the displacement of the booby water equal the volume or the weight? I'm sure there's some kind of weight/volume relationship and I really don't know diddly about mass and density (but maybe that's not relevant); despite all this, there seems to be scientific holes to this breast dunking method. Maybe we should reserve this as a money making scheme for charity events.
Read more Bra Saga.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Facebook Love-Hate...it's complicated

OK, my sister's been bugging me about going on Facebook, insists that Friendster is so passe. I tried to sign up with my real name but that doesn't work because Star is a common fake name. So I used my maiden name, "Kixxhaxaxxthin" as my real name. I tried to add Star as my maiden name so that I can be searched by both names but Facebook denied me. I tried to sign up Josh, but his name is like a pseudonym too...What the hell is up with these Facebook nazis? Stars everywhere, we have to unite and fight for our Facebook rights. It doesn't make any sense to me that something as random as ridiculously long Thai maiden name which could have been Sjsdjdslfklds or other gobbledy gook would be accepted while Star is forbidden.
It's going to take me a while to emotionally recover from these setbacks. I'm not motivated to write to the Facebook staff to plea for my real name or my husband's. But on the other hand, I'm totally sucked into the features! They are so creepily cool, I'm sure Facebook can just get your damn social and validate it with your name so we can rid ourselves of the pseudonym problem.

My Family

I've been holding myself back from posting pictures of my kids, but the gates have opened. Sadie- 2 yrs and Dazee 6 months.













NaBloPoMo love for all

When Beth told me about NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), I eagerly enlisted for the challenge of posting a blog entry every day for the month of November. I told my husband about it who thought I said NoMoBloJoFoYoMoFo. So relax, men, NaBloPoMo is all love; tit not a man-hating concept and ti'totally unrelated to your sex life.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Aha! The third measurement...

Part III
I am so sick of people citing ominous bra fitting statistics like: 80% of women wear the wrong bra size to introduce a faulty bra measuring procedure. I really want to retort that 80% of women probably get the wrong bra size from consistently faulty measuring procedures. I support some of these thoughts: If Your Bra Doesn't Fit, Go Shopping.
Then again this article is written in partnership with CNN, who I loathe. This is a digression, but CNN has a solid reputation as a news source but I equate them with the likes of Enquirer and other tabloids. I don't why the American public would rely on them for newsworthy news. They love putting tabloid style links on their home page. I hate that CNN's consistently a top 3 site in my workplace.
Back to bras...I found a website, 85B, that asks for three measurements instead of the typical 2 to determine your bra size. In addition to the bottom part of your chest and the fullest part of your chest, it asks for the top part of your chest. Using their size calculator yielded a measurement (34C) that was in the ballpark for my real size. (The other method yields 36AA or 36AAA depending either on my fast changing figure or my inconsistent measuring technique) Two things I'd like to see:
1. I'd like to know how this third measurement is being used. The calculator shields the math from me. This third measurement is useful, how come it hasn't achieved the popularity as the other two measurements?
2. I'd like the site to comment on what I find to be true, that if you start with a bra size, you can add a cup while bringing down the band size, to arrive at a similar size. For example, 38A is equivalent to 36B, is equivalent to 34C, is equivalent to 32D. Or using the average America bra size, 34B is the same as 36A or 38AA or 32C. If course, as you progress further downstream or upstream in the conversion, I think the rule of thumb becomes less applicable.
Because I find point #2 to be generally true in both directions (up & down) once (e.g. 34B can easily wear either 36A or 32C, depending on the shape and projection of your breasts), I'd like to tell all my juvenile junior high school and all the way up to college male friends to stop focusing on wanting a know a woman's cup size. Or drooling over a statement like "She's a D cup". It's totally irrelevant without the band size.
Side note: I'm being measured for a bridesmaid dress for a wedding in December. The seamstress has me puzzled by asking for two measurements with respect to bust. The top and bottom of the bust. I've never seen this. Usually if only one measurement is going to be used, it would be the fullest part of the bust. I'm really curious to see how the dress is going to turn out with these two measurements. For some of us, could this third (top of the bust) actually be the most important measurement?
Read more Bra Saga.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Icelandic Bras?

Part II
I found a video that shows to how measure for a bra on VideoJug (hee hee!). The instructions are the same as I've always seen. But there are some commenters who have the same issue as me -- I see multiple posts with people who are C, D, E, F etc cups but the procedure is saying that they're AA. I'm not the only one with a major issue on bra measuring methodology. I'm convinced now that if you get a double A cup or greater (or smaller depending on how you look at it) by this methodology, you probably have a narrow back. I don't think you can even buy a AA or AAA bra unless it's a training bra. Finally, according to the procedure, if the measurement of the band and fullest part of your bust is one inch different, then you're a A. Less than one inch, double A. So how can anyone be triple A? Whew! I've answered my own question.
I'm on a quest to find out how it's done in other countries. I've emailed the only Icelandic person I know, I hope she tells me that it's done differently there. When I visited Iceland, everyone seemed a little smarter and more practical than people in the US.
Also there's a custom lingerie shop in the same building where I work. I might have to stop in there for a consultation.

Read more Bra Saga.

Fueling my Tourette's

Mad props to to Beth, who's been my blog mentor-cum-savior, for cluing me in on NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I'm going to try to meet the challenge of blogging every day for the month of November. With Thanksgiving, a job, a hungry+non-proactive husband and two kids to derail me, I might be out of the race before long. However, I find great comfort that there are actually others like me whose interests are blogging, thinking about blogging, meta-blogging, proselytizing blogging, pretending I live in a blog, auto-blogging, blog preening, etc.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Am I a triple A cup?

Part I
Have you ever been dizzy with excitement by those para-scientist bra fitters in department stores that promise the holy grail of a perfect bra fit? They always seem to be big-chested and authoritative and unabashedly shameless about draping a silly hot pink measuring tape around their necks. They tell me all sorts of ills can be attributed to a poor bra fit -- backache, hammer toes, hungry children, etc. Anyways, their methods are always the same and really the instructions on how to fit yourself for a bra are really the same every where. For a reference, check out Victoria's Secret's measuring instructions. So maybe the value-add in having them help you find the perfect fit is to have someone else measure you.

But there's something seriously faulty about the methodology. Why would you add 5 inches to get your band size then take the measurement with the fullest part of your bust, subtract the difference in inches determine your cup size? When I dutifully follow these instructions, I become a triple or quadruple A cup, which apparently is at least 3 standard deviations away from the norm because it never shows up as a size for any bra measuring chart. Who came up with this two dimensional assumption that all breasts are a certain shape and projection? Ari had clued me in on the concept of information cascade. The great example he came across is that fat is bad for you (it's never been proven). (He's waiting to be vindicated on exercise is good for you (he believes that it isn't and is the only person I know who regrets exercising), but I digress) I'm willing to bet that the Japanese don't subject their women to such stupidity. I'm going to have to find out how the ladies get measured over there and popularize it here.

Read more Bra Saga.

Not for the Jane Austen set

I just discovered blogging and Beth is totally right that we have way fewer ax murderers thanks to blogging. For me, it's blurting therapy, an outlet for the hasty, crass part of me. But time's running out for me because I'm worried about my safety. The safety of my sanity (I'm feeling persecution mania) and family peace is at stake -- I'm concerned that upstanding people with delicate sensibilities will discover this blog, revile in horror, make judgements about my moral character and harass my goody-two-shoes husband (which would be pretty ironic, see Side note 2). Namely, these honorable people are my in-laws and their associates but also my sister and mom.
I need your advice. Should I:
A) Stop blogging (not sure I can do it)
B) Change my blogging style (pretty much the same as option A for me)
C) Remove my picture and any identifying details (change my online name, etc.). This is a little tricky because I'm going to have to ask a few other bloggers to remove my identifiable comments from their blog.
D) You tell me...I'm desperate for advice.

Side note: How often does the blogosphere collide with real life? How legitimate is my fear? Full-time corporate whore, mom of 2, dutiful daughter and "Jewish" daughter-in-law are some of my societal roles. Unfortunately none of them encourage an outlet for farting or verbal farting, so I try to tame my impulses my blogging. I wish I could have a universally witty and family-friendly blog like blog black belt Beth. But I'm a blog misfit, is there room for me in the blogosphere? Do you welcome a blog pariah?
Side note 2: I'm upset that I'm a blog punk while my husband has a squeaky clean image. I know for a fact that he's a dirty, misogynistic misanthrope that doesn't fear censure for his contemptible thoughts. Also, he doesn't even care if you think his obnoxious "jokes" aren't funny, he's so happily lost and smug in his inner world. So I'm left to stand alone with crudeness as my only friend.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Let me publish my tell-all and get good concert tickets please!!!

I don't like blogs that are moderated and want all moderated blog owners to cease and desist the moderation-- I totally understand the reasoning in some cases but I'm frustrated by the end user experience of not being totally sure if my comments were submitted. I've seen it happen on multiple blogs where users have published 2 similar comments - how frustrating to have to type the same thing more than once. My theory is that comments to your blog will increase four fold if you un-moderate them. For blogs that aren't super active, can't you un-moderate your blog and if you need to, you can always delete or edit the comments post-publishing? Oh and while you're at it, take off the dang CAPTCHA rule - making your readers type in a series of letters to ensure that they are not a malicious computer program. For people with (visual?) disabilities like myself, it takes a few tries to decipher the odd-ball kerning to get it right-- so frustrating!!!
No wonder I never get good concert seats from Ticketmaster, all you CAPTCHA geniuses are getting this right on the first try. So please un-moderate your blogs and get rid of CAPTCHA -- It would make your readers so happy, we'll run amok and populate more comments on your blog. OthErWIseI'mgonNAhavEtoCAPTchaYamYSELF.
[Side note, read my friend Ari's blog and he explains CAPTCHA.]

Thursday, November 1, 2007

How to score without dropping a dime

So I did a PSA for the ladies ("How to please men without putting out"), here's one for the men. Try this -- say to your lady friend, "You look pretty". If you want to be a little more sophisticated you can say "You look pretty ________ (fill in objective prepositional phrase). For example, "You look pretty in those eyeglasses" or "You look pretty in that green sweater". Now if you're ready for the graduate level of this, try "You look pretty _______________(fill in with something fashionable or artsy). For example, "You look pretty in those tortoise-shell frames" or "You look pretty in that green bell sleeve shirt".

Men, let me know if this helps you score.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Country full of type A(nal)

I find Japanese culture and mannerisms interesting. By US standards, it's a country full of type A people. Take for instance, the man who sat next to me at Cafe Zaiya. He had 2 sets of different Japanese newspapers. He proceeded to select 2 papers and gingerly laid them down opposite him (presumably for his companion, who hadn't arrived yet). Then he rotated both papers one at a time so that they would be right-side up for his companion. Then he centered smaller one on top of the larger one. Finally, he repeated all of these steps for himself. This automatic conscientiousness happened so fast that you would have missed it if you weren't watching. I shoulder-surfed him and saw an ad for either a bra or a bust enhancing service. I'm not sure because it was a Japanese newspaper. In the ad, there were two pictures, before and after. The before was labelled 34B. The after, 32D. The Japanese are so detail-oriented. Here in the US, when we talk about bust enhancement, we only focus on the cup size, not the band size or the overall shape or profile of the bust. There needs to be a holiday in the US where we celebrate the Japanese, we can learn so much from them.

Unconventional tribute to my husband or his sperm

Most women are freaked out by the notion of their husband donating sperm. Most wives feel like they own their husband's sperm.
I love babies, I am open to the idea of adoption. So stretch that logic a little further, I would raise children that are the spawn of my husband's sperm, regardless of the egg owner. Why is that so weird and unsavory for most people? Point of clarification for all you men reading this, it doesn't mean open marriage, I will raise the children born from artificial insemination. And to my dear husband: NO YOU CAN NOT KEEP HER IN THE BASEMENT.

How to please men without putting out

Public Service Annoucement: No matter what station, what age, what education or what personality, I find that 99% of the men I meet love a toilet mouth. I'm not sure why this would titillate even the most somber and educated man. So single ladies, this is an updated and effective version of The Rules. Include BJ, anus, anal sex, blah blah blah in your vocabulary. These words don't even need to be used with any relevance, these types of non-sequiturs are always welcomed. You don't even have to make a sentence. Scream BJ for no reason...trust me you'll be a hit.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Sex and Corruption

My apologies for the sensationalistic attention-grabbing subject, but it is relevant. Starting when my daughter was around 1 years old, I would try to threaten or bribe her. (Don't I sound like the model mom?) But her mind was so innocent that she never "got it". I'm pleased to say that after one year of intense home schooling, at 2 years old, she is cooperative for kiddie cocaine (goldfish) and very perceptive in understanding threats. So the age of innocence is over. But does this mean she has to look like the depraved monster that she is?

I'm spooked out by sexy clothes for little girls as well as sexy Halloween costumes for them. I became aware of a "chamber maid" costume for toddlers. With all due respect, (I read in Dilbert that once you say this phrase, anything can follow), to chamber maids everywhere, isn't that a euphemism for whore?

So...I happily bought some non-sexualized girl clothes today at Talbots. The cashier told me Talbots is commited to making non-sexualized kid's clothes. The clothes are really cute and well-maid (ha!) but I still think it's still a rip-off even at 50% off. But that's my own baggage, of wanting and expecting to pay like a $1 for three t-shirts.

Random thought -- Would I rather pay a premium to be a prude or a ho? Could this be a big business idea, the "Madonna-Whore" store?

Monday, October 29, 2007

Clean Diaper?

Any of you that have kids on the verge of being toilet trained-- have you noticed this peculiar and annoying behavior -- the urge to poo in a new diaper. My daughter will tell me that she wants a new diaper, I'll change her and lo and behold the fresh diaper becomes her toilet. WTF??!