This is the time of the year where millions of people are celebrating the Year of the Horse. Families have cleaned and decorated their homes from top to bottom, altars have been constructed, special New Year’s meals have been cooked and consumed. Everybody is doing whatever they can to ward away evil spirits. Traditions run deep during these celebrations. But there is one tradition I want you to break…please take “Chinese” out of Chinese New Year.
Et tu Facebook? While it’s not exactly betrayal, being defriended can feel like it is, especially when you’re still friends with the person in real life. Friending, liking, fans are new – well newly adopted at least – concepts that have invaded our popular culture. We find out more about our friends through status updates […]
I have an admission.
It’s not something I am proud of but, as the old adage goes, the first step in solving a problem is to admit you have one.
So here it is. I laugh when people fall.
The wait staff was even more callous. Each time a waiter came out with a tray of food, they looked disgusted when they realized they had to walk the long way around to deliver the food. One waiter, deeming the food an emergency, stepped over the helpless man to a nearby table. He didn’t skip a beat, after all, there was Chinese food to be had.
I know I can’t stop using the office bathroom. I don’t have the ability to hold it like some of my more skillful friends. The only thing I can do is to treat it like an expedition to an uncivilized country and to do what all explorers have learned to do: expect the unexpected.
I returned back to my seat and remembered the last time I wore this scarf, two lesbian friends said the same thing. I didn’t believe them either. It’s a scarf for Pete’s sake. Scarves don’t make you gay. Come to find out scarves don’t make you gay “ they just make you look gay.
Perhaps she likes to watch the people she is praying for. Perhaps she feels sorry for them. Perhaps she revels in the fact that she is not one of them. Perhaps I’m over-analyzing.
So I’m looking at my car and comparing it to my neighbor’s clean, shiny car. A runway model parked next to a housefrau. But there’s something familiar with my car, something endearing. It’s not so bad. Then I remember that I have a couple of torn-up, faded, stretched-out t-shirts (and yes I admit, several pairs of underwear) that I refused to give up. A smile sneaks on my face “ I do know the value of sentiment, of comfort, of familiarity. It’s a good feeling.
So I’m wondering where I misplaced the memo detailing all the current sexual innuendos, out-nuendos, under-nuendos, and any other “nuendos. When tossing the salad no longer involves the use of tongs (or maybe it still does). I’m scared that I’ll say hello to a co-worker and it will mean I like to see you naked.
The transformation was instantaneous. The short, awkward kid bloomed into this smooth, fluid dancer who moonwalked, twirled and balanced on his toes with such dexterity, it was as if Michael Jackson was truly channeling through. It reminded me of crippled believers walking again with a touch of a preacher’s hand.