#personal laundry

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Myself: Okay.

Me: Are you actually going to do it?

Myself: Yep.

Me: Soon?

Myself: Yeah.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

Me: Have you done your laundry?

Myself: Uhhhm... Yes?

Me: So no, then.

Myself: No, not really.

Me: You suck. ...And you're going to smell bad at work tomorrow.

NOTE: I will never tire of "That's my jam" to express all the things that make me go "Yeaaahhhh!"/feel happy tingly inside/feel happy I am going to burst with excitement inside/feel happy this is IT, it is ON! inside. So don't try and tell me "That's my jam" is over. It's not over. You're over.

1. Affectionate update emails from faraway friends. Affectionate meaning there are lots of exclamation points and CAPS to convey real life talk, emoticons (real life facial expressions), xoxoxoxo (real life hugs and kisses), the occasional pet name (boo boo, ladyface, pookie, "Insert name here-licious"), and "I love yous!" or "I miss yous!" 

2. Peaceful morning poops with the bathroom window open. 

3. Eating Thai green curry with rice followed by a perfect one hour nap. 

4. The 40-something-year-old woman who smiled, waved, and said "Hi!" to me as I biked home. 

5. The 3-year-old-I think Indian boy who walked a few feet in front of me on the sidewalk, looked back at me, looked forward, then looked back at me again, and said, "Hi!" as I walked to the L.

6. The part starting at 5:53 in "How Does It Feel (Untitled)" where D'Angelo coos, "Doooo ooooo" and the whole song crescendoes to "Yeaahh yeaahhh yeaahhh!" Damn.

7. Painting my nails while catching up on Mad Men s1 (I know, I know, I know).

8. Writer crushes. I'm looking at you Rembert Browne. Also you, Amy Wallace. That D'Angelo profile? MY GOD. 

9. Rashida Jones' bangs. That sounds weird but bangs look so good on her. She is totally working them mami. I wish I could transplant all of her hairstyles with bangs on my head.

10. Hugs. 

12. The song "My Boo." Both the Usher one and the Ghosttown DJs one. 

13. Speaking of Usher..."LOVE IN THIS CLUB PART 2." Have ya heard? 

14. When someone says "you look pretty today" but not in creepster style. Genuine, no agenda, no really, you look nice way. (It's totally the blush. BTW, I have noticed I get compliments from dudes when I wear the blushes with sexual names like Orgasm and Libido. Analyze that.) It just makes me feel good, ok? 

15. Finding a bra that actually fits me and is in a color that is not "flesh-tone." 

16. Making my parents laugh.

I go back to L.A. this Friday but I'll only be there for a week. After that, it's Chicago for an indeterminate amount of time. One year? Three years? Ten years? Excited like crazy because finally, finally, finally (!), but I will miss my family loads. It's a weird feeling watching your parents get older...

Lastly, Childish Gambino's "These Girls" is a sad song but I keep on pressing repeat like I relate to it. I'm totally not one of those girls he sings about! And, obviously, not The Girl he's singing to. I'm not even the girl version of him in this song because I don't have feelings for anyone now nor am I stocked up with gents on the side. BUAHAHAHAHA.

This clown on NPR wrote a book review for the Korean novel, Please Look After Mom, and needs her ass handed to her. The review shouldn't even be called a book review because she hardly even reviews it. It's a vehicle for her to spout off some ignorant, ethnocentric, "bewildered cultural condescension" (as Angry Asian Man so brilliantly put it) bullshit.

Throughout the review she very very clearly establishes that she does not like the book and, at the last paragraph, she points to a memoir that she just read for the second time - a book that did it better, an alternative "empowering female adventure story about getting lost in the city [that] will get your book club on its feet and pumping its collective fists in the air, rather than knocking back the wine and reaching for the cheap consolations of kimchee-scented Kleenex fiction." 

What the fuck? 

That's the last sentence of her review. That's how she ends it! It's not even jumbled in there somewhere in the middle like it's hiding. The woman is not hiding. In fact, you can listen to her read her own review - inflections, pauses, and everything. It's a real hoot listening to her read her own drivel review. She's so into it. And she so means it. Sincere! No jokes! 

I'm not even going to ask my rhetorical "Am I being too sensitive" question and then go off on some is it/is it not racist debating that I normally do with myself after I read articles like this cos, frankly, after reading Ramou's post yesterday (please see previously reblogged post below), fuck that shit. I'm not sorry for being "sensitive." I'm only sorry that I ever kept my mouth shut, or hesitated, about speaking up about my feelings and reactions on the subject of race in the past because I didn't want to be that girl with no sense of humor or who made her white friends feel uncomfortable.