Monday, November 26, 2007

Karaoke, cowboy hats, and identity crises

This needs to be blogged about, and the only reason I waited a full two days to do it is because I was on a plane for most of one of those days, and had no internet access. Okay. So here goes.

I went out in San Francisco on the day after Thanksgiving with my dear friend John Y. and his lovely roommate Jon S. We had a delicious dinner at Kan Zeman, followed by some rather frightening (but impressive!) belly dancing by the mysterious Michelle, who was able to balance a sword on her head and spin around without the sword flying off and impaling us diners as we ate our falafel and dolmas. J, J and I speculated over whether Michelle had some sort of sword-supporting ridge in her skull, or whether she had installed a small "hijab krampon" into her head covering to hold that sword aloft. It remains a mystery.

After dinner, ice cream at Ben & Jerry's, and some mild harassment by a tambourine-wielding band of "homeless by choice" gatorade hippies on Haight St., we went to the Mint, a slightly gay karaoke bar. We were enjoying the performances (including a deeply non-ironic rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" by a preppy, chubby guy whose register fell somewhat short of Celine's) when we heard someone singing enthusiastically (and loudly) behind us. We turned around to see an Asian guy in a button-down shirt who had been on stage a few minutes earlier with a creepy, Matthew McConnaghey-esque white guy in a cowboy hat, singing Chattahoochie.

The exchange that followed went exactly like this, except every time the Asian guy talked he used the expletive "mo***r f***ing" every other word or so. So just add that part in your head:

Asian Guy: Where are y'all from?

Me: I'm from Michigan.

AG: I'm from Central Florida. You know what it's called down there? The Redneck Riviera. And let me tell you, I'm the biggest redneck in the world.

Me, John and Jon: *blank stares*

AG: And you know what the funny part is? Down there I'm the (*racial slur*) but up here, I'm the redneck.

Me: That's interesting.

AG: Yeah. Where are you from? (To John)

J: I'm from Texas.

AG: TEXAS! White power, bro.

And he held out his fist.

At this point, the three of us wondered if one of us should gently break the news to this dude that he is, in fact, not white. And, perhaps, that he's in the middle of a gay karaoke bar in San Francisco. Probably not a whole lot of klansmen in the crowd to back him up if things got ugly, you know what I mean? John handled it gracefully by sticking out his hand instead and saying something like, "HEY, handshake!"

After the Asian white power guy got dragged away by his cowboy-hatted friend, my friends and I sat there a bit stunned. Then I was forcefully reminded of the Dave Chappelle sketch about the blind Klansman, Clayton Bigsby. Offensive, be warned:



Man. The world is a weird place.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Turkey Lurkey

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! That includes you teenage boys in Sweden who just googled "Brasilian wax," expecting something else, and ended up here. I hope you're all writing in your Oprah-inspired gratitude journals right now. And, if you aren't, please do so soon, because it's never good to disobey Oprah's orders. I, for one, am sitting on the couch watching the Macy's Thanksgiving parade and considering leaving soon for my annual Thanksgiving run.

It's wonderful being in San Francisco for Thanksgiving -- it's 65 degrees, sunny, and clear. I went out on my parents' back porch this morning and could see the Golden Gate bridge and the ocean sparkling in the sun. What a change from all those frigid Thanksgivings I spent in Michigan, watching the snow swirling around the half-frozen Detroit parade participants on TV. I guess there's something cozy about sitting inside with a big hunk of turkey with snow falling outside. But there's something way better about putting on a pair of shorts and running down to the beach on Thanksgiving and then coming back and watching people being cold somewhere else.

My dad, who is also sitting here watching the parade, is convinced that the Thanksgiving anchor lady who is narrating the parade on TV is chemically enhanced. "She's doped up! Look at her!" he insists. I think he might be right. But who are we to judge? She's just bringing the Thanksgiving cheer to national TV, that's all. Dad just interjected, "This gal is loopty-loop!"

May you all have loopy and delicious Thanksgiving days!

Friday, November 09, 2007

I see you, gay Dumbledore!

I saw this on the Onion today -- tee hee.*



*For those of you who've been living under the one rock where Harry Potter hasn't been translated into the local language, this article is making fun of the fact that J.K. Rowling recently announced that Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, was gay. That explains those purple robes, right?

Saturday, November 03, 2007

The day I realized I was old.

So much has happened since I last wrote.

I went to Miami. I went to DC. I dressed as a (non-slutty but semi-frisky) pirate. I turned 25. I realized I was old.

The day I realized I was old just happened to be the day after my 25th birthday. The "I'm old" epiphany was not necessarily connected to the fact that I had made it 25 times around the sun just one day before; that was just a coincidence.

Here's what happened. I went to New York for my birthday and stayed with the twins. It was all fun and games until Sunday, the day after my birthday, when Julia, Claire, Jake and I were having brunch at the neighborhood diner after a night of Birthdayween revelry. I was drinking a cup of coffee out of a white coffee cup. I took a sip, put my cup down on the saucer, and there it was -- a lipstick mark on the rim of my coffee cup. That's when it hit me -- I'm old. I'm a lady who leaves lipstick marks on coffee cups. That's it. Once that happens, there's no going back. You're old.

I'm surprisingly okay with this realization. Age ain't nothin' but a number, right? I mean, okay, I'm not saying if you come back to me in five years I won't be freaking the F out, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it.

Closing note: I must apologize for being gone from el mundo de blogging for so long, but it was fly-out week (that magical week when the law firms fly us law students to their offices for rounds of callback interviews) and I was jet-setting all over the place. You know how it is. So now I'm back, ensconced in my apartment in Cambridge, back to the grind. So I'll be better about blogging now, seriously.