Home Alooooooone

I don't like being alone.

I'm a people person.

I've been home alone for 4 days.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

I'm sitting on my couch.

And sitting.

And sitting.

I went to the mall. There were people there. I bought a dress and some snow boots.

I went to Barnes and Noble. There were people there. I looked at dating advice books. I wasn't brave enough to buy one. Instead I bought a Swedish horror book. Samesies.

I texted some people to see if they wanted to play with me.

They didn't answer.

Who wants to come play with me tonight? Or tomorrow? Or Saturday?

I think my roommates get back on Sunday... but I don't actually know.

I promise I'm a real good time. And I have some good games. And I can talk semi-inteligently about movies and the latest headlines.

And I bought a new dress that I can wear while we hang out!

I wasn't designed to be alone. I know there are people out there that prefer to be alone. I can't even imagine that. I always feel like they're lying. What do you even do when you're alone? I've read like 200 pages of my book and I've watched some TV and I'm currently blogging... but these are time-fillers. This is what I do when I'm waiting for someone to knock on my door with 2 tickets to see Ke$ha or something.

I should be able to entertain myself. I should get a hobby like knitting or cooking. I did buy a guitar! Maybe I'll pull that sucker out and be entertained for another 30 minutes. After that...

Someone had better be here with some Ke$ha tickets or there's no telling what will happen.

Belle is the BEST

So I didn't post for a long time. I feel bad about that, but the only reason I didn't post was because I couldn't think of anything entertaining to write about.

I tried to post about things like Britney Spears and pizza, but (despite the engaging subject matter) my posts fell flat. Boring. Dumb.

BUT! Just yesterday I had a whole slew of fantastic blog ideas. These should last for a little while.

Without further ado --

Why Belle is the Foxiest

I've got big opinions on Belle. She is perfect. I'm talking about Beauty and the Beast Belle. "This Provencal Life" Belle. Blue dress, white apron Belle. My idol in life.

Belle.

This all started a few years ago when I saw the Branjelina movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The movie responsible for the ending of Brannifer or Braniston or Jennipitt or Jennibrad Anistpitt.

Anyway.

The movie is fun and cute, filled with attractive people that make things explode. Excellent.

In this movie, Angelina Jolie (Mrs. Smith) isn't particularly feminine. She's not manly (like... she doesn't have armpit hair and a mullet), she just represents a very masculine perspective on what it is to be a "strong woman". At least that's what I think. My two cents. Clink! Clink! (those were pennies)

None of this really bothered me, though. She was still a strong female character who got things done. Whatev. There was one line, though, that really rubbed me the wrong way. At one point, Mr and Mrs are in their basement choosing their artillery to go combat their persuers. Brad gets a big gun. Angelina gets a small gun. She looks at him and says, "Why to I get the girl gun?"

Seriously, Angelina? Her comment could be taken two ways. Either the gun was small and wimpy so she nicknamed it the "girl gun" or it was a gun more often used by women and she didn't want to identify herself with that demographic.

Either way, it made me want to punch her face. No... then I'm no better than her and her "girl gun". I wanted to... what's a more feminine alternative? I wanted to... give her a dirty look. Cry in the corner? Am I doing more damage than good? Maybeeeeee.

Anyway... that's when I decided to have some feminist opinions.  But I didn't burn my bra just yet. I wanted to identify why Mrs. Smith bugged me. I started to think about a bunch of different women and how they're portrayed in the media. Was there a good example?

Then it dawned on me.

A pillar of light.

The pot of gold at the end of the skanky rainbow.

Belle.

Belle is the perfect example of a strong heroin. heroine? One of them is a drug. She's the one that is not a drug. A female hero.

HeroinE. Wikipedia says she's a heroine.

Anyway. She's totally strong and brave and kicks A, but she's also vulnerable and kind and nurturing. And she doesn't apologize for it. Her physical strength is no match for Gaston or The Beast, but she recognizes that her contribution to the universe is found elsewhere. She doesn't really have sex appeal or combat skills. She's got other things going for her.

My favorite part of the movie is this:

Belle is scared away by The Beast's surly demeanor and goes into the woods. She's attacked by wolves. The Beast saves her. But then?? She saves him right back. The scene after this is great as well because Belle nurses him back to health. She tends to his wounds. And she sasses him. Love it.

She's a strong female protagonist. But strong in ways that are often overlooked. Strong in ways that are sometimes considered weak or girly. Well you know what?? There's nothin' wrong with being girly! My friend Belle taught me that.

And let's not forget that it's Belle's love and strength and influence on The Beast that save the whole story.

So anyway... that's why Belle is my idol in life. She's just awesome. I don't mean to say that Angelina is the worst because I kinda like her and her foxy boyfriend and her foreign kids. But when you compare her to Belle? Really when you compare anyone to Belle....

Belle wins.

This gives me hope in life! Because no... I'm not very strong and no... I'm not very good at basketball and no... I couldn't shoot a target to save my life. Buuuuuuuut I'm funny-ish. And I like people. And I can dance pretty good. And I'm learning how to play the guitar.

Well... one of these days I'll find my contribution to the universe. And it'll be GOOD.

The Best Compliments Ever

Sometimes people say really nice things to me. They make me feel real good and special.

When I was on my high school track team, one of my teammates told me I was a good dancer for a white girl.

Best. Compliment. Ever.

I have found that my dancing gets things done. For example. One time I had a crush on a boy. We went to a dance. After the dance, he had a crush on me too. Done deal! I can be self conscious about my face or my body or my love of High School Musical 3, but when I'm dancing... I'm not self conscious at all. I feel totally myself.


When I was in high school, my aunt Patricia told me that I look more like Britney Spears every time she sees me. Great news for obvious reasons.

OK not really twins. But close? Eh??

When I was in elementary school, my grandpa told me that I was good at spelling. For some reason I took this to mean "You are a natural at spelling and don't need to worry about spelling ever again." So maybe this compliment caused more trouble than anything because I gave up on spelling (I was clearly awesome). It created a monster because I was an awful speller that thought I was an awesome speller. My classmates would come to me with spelling queries and I would confidently say the exact wrong thing.

Classmates: Asia! We're staying at the Sheraton Hotel, right? How do you spell that?
Asia: (with unshakable confidence) Aha! C-H-E-R-A-T-I-N
(bamboozled) Classmates: How wise you are.

Suckas.

Basically those are the nicest things I've been told in my life. Or at least some of the most memorable compliments I've received.

Thanks guys. You're the best.

Third Grade

Dear blog readers who are seething with upset-ness because I haven't posted in like.... forever,

Super sorry. Remember in my first week of blogging when I was all "Imma post every 6 hours!!!" And now I suck at posting regularly... Well it just all balances out now, doesn't it?

So it Christmastime! I'm in Colorado visiting my very first little nephew, Garret. He's a little prince.

Today I've decided to talk to you about 3rd grade. 3rd grade was a weird, weird year.

First of all, my teacher disappeared and never returned. It was a very strange thing. After about a month into the school year, Mrs. K was reaching up to point at something on a map, and hurt her back. She just kinda paused and didn't move for a moment. Then she walked out and another teacher walked in. Mrs. K never came back. She supposedly spent the rest of the year in the hospital, though I feel like I should be more suspicious... like maybe she was a Russian spy. Very likely.

We received a letter from her about half way through the year telling us that she missed us and telling us that she was ok. We went from substitute to substitute for the rest of the year.

Second of all, the students started disappearing as well. We started the school year with about 22 kids in our class. Then they started moving or transferring to other classes. We ended up with 17. A third-grade class of 17 was very small and very strange. Especially when combined with the fact that our teacher disappeared.

Third of all, that was the year after my dad died. He died in August and third grade began weeks later. Everyone was talking about their summers and I remember when Jeanette Moses asked me how my summer was. I said, "Bad." She said, "Why?" and I whispered to her that my dad had died. She didn't believe me. I let it drop. This was also the year that Melanie Somethingsomething told me that my dad had gone to hell. Screw you, Melanie Somethingsomething.

Fourth of all, this was the year when substitute number 6 said, "Raise your hand if you're left-handed!" I was the only one that raised my hand. I felt simultaneously super alone and super awesome. Awesome has won out.

Fifth of all, well.... I don't know if I have a fifth of all. Hopefully the first four points were good enough evidence to convince you that my year in third grade was strange strange strange.

The rest of elementary school was less weird for sure, though I was still a trouble-maker. In fourth grade, I cried and cried when my water bottle tasted slightly like soap. They sent me to the office and I had to call my mom about it. In fifth grade, I went sorta crazy when I got a little bit of paint on my uniform dress. I took it off and started to wipe it down with a wet sponge. I got yelled at and cried some more.

Looking back... it makes me want to call all of my elementary school teachers and tell them that I didn't grow up to be a serial killer. Dear Ms. Wakefield, Mrs. Liimaata and Mrs. Kumovai (sp??), I grew up to be just fine(ish). Sorry to worry ya!

Here's me in the 4th grade. Why do I look homeless? It was medieval day or something. I also played the recorder.

 I just remembered another third grade tid bit. We were in a recycling competition with the rest of the third grade classes. I wanted to win so bad that I started ripping unused papers out of my notebook and sticking them into the recycling. That's dedication. We won a pizza party. Boo yah baby.

Winter Layout

I changed the design. It is now winter-y. If you hate change a lot and you will stop reading my blog because you think my new background is too winter-y, then....


......


just.....


....

stoppit?

Change is good. As are you. Love you guys.

Word Verification

So you're just going along in life, hoping that good things are headed your way. You decide to visit your friend, internet. "Oh! Hey, internet! I think I would like to purchase this item/comment on this blog/sign up for this site that will email me a Garfield comic every Thursday at 3pm."

But internet is moody sometimes...

You: I would like to do this thing.
Internet: First... a little mind game. Type this crazy looking word.
You: Whaaa?
Internet: actiso
You: Internet.... that isn't a word.
Internet: sabram
You: Seriously....?
Internet: bromch
You: Bromch???

These are not words, internet. Don't call it "word verification" when really what you mean is "random letters areyouacomputer? verification".

The internet is a crappy friend; never believing that you're not a computer, speaking all kinds of nonsense, hoping you'll catch on and play its sick little game. You know what, internet??? The only sick game of yours I'm currently interested in is TextTwist.

What I like to do is confuse the internet -- the old "taste of your own medicine" routine.

Internet: alabines
Asia: sloopyboop
Internet: warib
Asia: freeeeeeeeeeeet
Internet: ewlonstl
Asia: Internet, you're not even trying anymore.
Internet: traberiu
Asia:    !  

.....low blow, internet... low blow.


This doesn't get me anywhere... as you can see. But I feel like I'm slowly chipping away at the smug smile that sits pretty on the electronic face of the internet.

Sucka.

Random Asia Fact #2: Inappropriate Announcements

I just wikipedia-ed "pwn" because I wanted to be sure I was using it correctly. I am. Also wikipedia told me that there is no proper way to pronounce "pwn". I'm just gonna stick with "pone" and hope for the best.

Pwn. Pwn. Pwn. I feel SO hip.


So here's random thing #2:

When I was young, it was proper etiquette to announce when you were getting in the shower so that other inhabitants knew not to use hot water (dish washer, washing machine, etc). This would ensure a nice, warm shower.

So every time I was going to shower, I would yell (very loudly) "GETTING IN THE SHOW-ER!" Then everyone would know and my shower would be pleasant and warm.

I didn't ever stop doing this. Even after our hot water heater was large enough to accommodate a shower and other hot-water activities. AND even when I left home for college.

I didn't realize it was strange until last year when I announced to my roommates that my shower would begin momentarily.

Roommates: Okee doke. ...Enjoy?
ASIA: Really you should care.

But they didn't.

This has also translated into other areas of my life. I feel like I should let people know when I'm going to use the bathroom. What if they need me for something and can't find me and think I've been kidnapped? If they knew from the start that I would be out of communication for a few minutes, it would put everyone's mind at ease.

People: WHERE IS ASIA??? WE NEED HER RIGHTNOWWW.
Uninformed person: OMG I DUNNO. Probably kidnapped and in the process of gnawing through ropes in the trunk of a car.
People: The humanity! She has the upper body strength of an infant! I hope her tongue is sharp enough to combat her captors with charisma and wit!

VERSUS

People: WHERE IS ASIA??? WE NEED HER RIGHTNOWWW.
Informed person: She has informed me that she is in the restroom. She will be with you momentarily.
People: Sweet deal, daddy-o.

Really it would be selfish for me to keep it a secret. I'm only thinking of you, universe.


SO. I posted on facebook a request for blog post ideas. Really... I liked them all. I'm going to incorporate them in my next few posts until I run out of them. Here's a suggestion from my younger brother, Zac: 

Well you've already covered HOLDMYSPOOOOOOOO, so I can't think of anything. Unless you want to write about how cool I am. Then I'm totally cool with that.

Zac doesn't realize that HOLDMYSPOOOOOOO was covered in a post I haven't published yet (about my brief stint as a Track and Field superstar... get excited). 

Sucker. 

But at his suggestion, I will tell you how cool he is: very. 

Very very.  For reals, though. If you aren't best friends with Zac yet, you should really get on that. 

Here's a limerick, as promised.

My mom is a bundle of fun

She had one girl and three sons

So I said, "Oh mother!

I only have brothers!"

And she said, "Zac is the best one."

She didn't really say that... It just rhymed so well.

My Bucket List

There once was a lady named Patty Hearst. She was the heiress to a huge fortune (the William Randolf Hearst fortune) and had a bright happy life ahead of her. Then she was kidnapped by some crazy radicals. Then she decided that she liked her kidnappers and became a crazy radical herself. Then she robbed a bank. Then she went to jail. Then she got out of jail and became a model/actress. Then she received a presidential pardon from Bill Clinton (his last presidential act).

You guys are probably like "She had Stockholm syndrome! She is the textbook example of it!"

But I'm all, "Stockholm shmockholm! She was living life to the fullest, homes!"

After reading about Patty Hearst on wikipedia, I decided that my life did not have to be hum-drum. People can say, "You can't rob a bank and be an actress and join some crazy radical group and go to jail and be pardoned by the president!" But they are wrong so I would say, "Whatev!" then show them this article.

Then I would show them my bucket list (see below, suckas!).

1. Rob a bank
2. Go to jail
3. Be pardoned by the president

These first three things I may have stolen from Patty Hearst's bucket list.

4. Use a Stryker pipe for its intended purpose

Ummm... I'm not sure if you're ready for this explanation or not.

5. Act in a movie

6. Be in a musical

7. Write an awesome movie

8. Meet Britney Spears

9. DANCE with Britney Spears

Maybe I could play Britney Spears in a musical about her life and career. That would be ideal.

10. Write an awesome song

11. Get married and have super precious babies

12. Make the world better by improving the self esteem of young girls who think you have to look like/have the talent of Taylor Swift to find happiness in life.

Not that Taylor Swift isn't superfly; she is.

13. Be an A+ grown up

Imagine this: I walk into an office full of people dressed in suits. I'm also in a suit. Then I take some documents out of my briefcase and start talking about amortization and tax brackets and insurance limits.

"Hmm dee hmm! I disagree with your assertion that health care has become too retrogradized! Ever since my family filed for a 34.5% bionic mortgage profile, we've seen great improvement in the state of our NASDAQ stock resumption!"

Ok... some of those words are made up. But you know what I mean. It's certainly an improvement on "Can I pay my rent in raisins?"

14. Teach a high school media class using my wit and entertaining stories from my eventful life

Eh?

Ehh??

This list has 14 items on it. So did yesterday's list. Hmm.

Anyway, it looks like a pretty full life to me.



OK. Maybe you are mature enough for me to tell you what a Stryker pipe is and why I want to use it...

When my daddy was at Brown University studying physics (I know, right?), he liked to invent things. One day he invented a device, the Stryker pipe, that made the smoking of marijuana really smooth and enjoyable. He then mass produced and marketed the pipe to his peers at Brown. You could get them by mail order and he had a little pamphlet explaining the special features of this pipe. It was pretty rad.

So using a Stryker pipe isn't drug use so much as it's family heritage.