It all started one lazy day last summer, I interrupted a “Finding Bigfoot” marathon by casually dropping a good old-fashioned, ‘Let’s get a cat,’ bomb.  Apparently, a girl can only endure a “this is an abomination to science!” bash-fest for so long before her mind starts to wander to other large, hairy beasts…so we ended up on Petfinderand found the cat we wanted before those honky fucks could say, “Wait.  Did you hear that?” for the 80 millionth time…  (an otherwise impossible feat, had it not been for my expert implementation of search filters):

meet moose.

And done.  I filled out our application the same way I like to fill out all applications:  with half-truths and otherwise utter bullshit…Which is also probably why I can’t even get hired to work for free… Besides, the truth will always be out of the question because there’s really no good way to spin:

 “I adopted a 150 lb dog, named Blue and well, technically, and briefly…my best friend’s dog Tito…  Tito didn’t last long because I sort of killed him by taking him to my mom’s house…and I trusted that he had enough sense to stay with the other dogs and not go out in the woods by himself…but he didn’t.  So really, he kind of killed himself… As for Blue, I ended up leaving my dog at my mom’s house for the past year because I was too busy trying to pursue a new career but really just ended up financially crippling myself to the point that I could no longer care for her properly…”

so instead, I went with:

Sold Pet: No

Given pet away: No

Surrendered Pet: No

Years will keep pet: til the bitter end*

*or, until he wanders off into the woods…His choice.  Thankfully, my very understanding, best friend is also technically my landlord and only requires a quick briefing to find out ‘who and why?’, prior to testifying to my magnanimous nature, which is why we put my address down on the application…(we also wanted to avoid paying a pet deposit at Phil’s apartment…  I know…we’re cheap bastards.)

Well, we go to pick the fucker up, AND of course, the cat people wouldn’t let us take him home because after meeting us, and possibly detecting our general state of hung-over’dness, they felt they needed to do a home inspection…which of course, greatly affected the Sunday sleep-in agenda…(an inconvenience which might at first make the karma police-inclined feel as though justice prevailed…but guess what?  You’re an asshole.  (and the home inspection actually ended up saving our lives.))

The next morning.  

First, we had to go to my house to make it look like we actually lived there which we pulled off surprisingly well, and the lady left him with us and all was fine, UNTIL about 10 minutes of being alone with us, our brand new, awesome cat was crouching under the dining table and panting, which neither of us had ever seen before, which totally made us feel like inadequate caregivers who failed to properly evaluate the magnitude of such an undertaking…

a ginger cat panting...

Then, all of a sudden, Moose let out this demonic sounding wail and then ran over to the other side of the house, so we followed him, (like a bunch of dummies), where he then proceeded to rid his body of the evils within by taking what very well might have been, one of the biggest shits that has ever been shat by a cat.  Most humans, for fuck’s sake.

I’m not kidding.  It happened so fast–was so noxious, oppressive and wholly inescapable– that the smell actually hit me before my eyes even had  chance to tell my brain what they were seeing, right in front of them…I actually had to ask Phil what the cat was doing…  And through the thick cloud of rancid of cat-ass weighing down over the entire house…Phil looked at me somewhat quizzically, with his eyes watering and shirt pulled-up over his face and said, “He is shitting!?  Oh, fuck us, it’s horrible.  We have to live herenow.”

especially if it has to do with a cat who shits inside your house.

shitbox 2.0 ended up replacing this one..but it's way uglier. 2.1 is in the works...

And that’s the day we said goodbye to our lazy days of summer, Phil’s apartment…and one of our bathrooms.  Coincidentally, as I’d later find out, that was also the day I basically said goodbye to any chance of having an adult conversation that wouldn’t somehow devolve into me talking about the ugly truths of toilet-training a giant cat…There’s been sporadic yet marginal-success, major setbacks, death threats, and there’s even been a few spite-shits, which all the crazy cat people online try to say don’t exist so people won’t beat their cats, but we know different and don’t listen.

All of this together has ended with me using my spare time to build him a custom cat toilet, semi-effectively turning his ‘made-for-a-much-smaller-cat’ litter quitter into a rolling piece of furniture/giant litterbox that fits over the toilet, with the hopes that he’ll actually have the courtesy to use it consistently.

But really, I’m just trying to save his stupid asshole life…

-k

p.s.  I originally didn’t  intend to provide such intimate detail… and I know it’s gross because I’m living it, so I’m not sorry for talking about it.  I really wanted to talk about the making of the pterodactyls, our burgeoning Netflix documentary addiction and the re-acquisition of Blue…but it was impossible to only tell parts of this story, so I’ll save it for now.

In the meantime, here are two pictures with all of those things…

Moose with the pterodactyl masks:

the making of the pterodactyls

i'd like to blame the chaos on the move...but it pretty much always looks like this. this.

]]> http://oh-ngo.com/2011/12/a-cat-named-moose/feed/ 0 http://oh-ngo.com/2011/09/its-hard-out-there-for-a-ngggggo/ http://oh-ngo.com/2011/09/its-hard-out-there-for-a-ngggggo/#comments Fri, 16 Sep 2011 17:24:15 +0000 Oh Ngo... http://oh-ngo.com/?p=2368 more...

Well, here’s a quick update: I’m good and broke. Although, I can’t say that I didn’t see it coming, after our Amsterdam trip and then the Scotland trip…with not nearly enough time to recoup between either.  Let’s just say I’ve reached the bottom of my barrel and I’m just trying my best to stay out of the red these days…but I’m still pretty much sucking at it.

I canceled my cable; I haven’t bought anything from Dell in months—the last pair of shoes that I bought was a pair of flip flops, which hardly even qualify as shoes, not to mention they were replacement flip flops so I especially don’t think those count–I even went back to drinking Miller Lite–which is simply tragic in itself because frankly, it’s shitty beer.

I can almost see pity in Phil’s eyes when he sees me in the office, the kitchen, the laundry room, the backyard and everywhere else I go with my Miller Lite—because Phil hates Miller Lite–which actually works out great for the both of us because he doesn’t dip into my daily stash and I don’t dip into the good stuff unless he is partaking as well…but really, I just try to save one or two for him…at the very least…

Oddly enough, I’ve found that I actually prefer Miller Lite as my #1 daily drinker, because I can drink it all day and still get shit done, i.e. show up where I am supposed to be, remember how to form sentences, return phone calls, yada, yada and most importantly: sans midday naps—although, at the end of the day, I know: it’s still shitty beer.

A shopping cart full of White Rascal, Duvel, Hoegarden, Leffe & Boston Summer Lager = a shopping cart worthy of accolades, congratulations, standing ovations and applause…

A shopping cart full of Miller Lite = a shopping cart of all the shit that you should have done better.

Anyway, I am determined to regain my beer-maven celebrity status at Whole Foods, and I’m shit with budgeting, so I recently signed up on Mint.com—which helps you to track your spending, etc.—and they send you alerts when you get charged for monthly fees or any other bullshit that you shouldn’t have to pay and/or they update you to let you know how close you are to whatever goals/budgets that you set up.

And they use pie charts.

awesome...

SO – Mint.com sends me an email saying that I got charged $12 for my Bank of America account, which I decided was the last straw. I’ve had that stupid account since I was 18—it had seen more than its fair share of highs and lows – and I wanted it closed.  But, I soon found there’s absolutely no information on how to close your account on the customer service page so I had to do a live chat with some asshole named Rhyan:

Rhyan: Hello! Thank you for being a valued Bank of America customer! My name is Rhyan: . How may I assist you with your savings and checking accounts today?

You: hi – i was unaware of how many fees i’ve been being charged for my accounts so i just transferred the balance of my savings (what’s left of it) to my checking account -

You: and i opened a new account with another banking institution

You: so, i’m just wanting to make sure that i won’t be slapped with any additional fees for taking the whole $18. out of my savings account

Rhyan: I understand your concern regarding fees on your account.

Rhyan: To begin with, may I have your full name and the last four digits of the account number as it appears on the Bank Statement?

You: sure

You: it’s Kristine Marie Ngo

You: 1333

Rhyan: Thank youfor that information Kristine.

Rhyan: Can you please confirm what are the fees assessed on your account.

You: i’ve been getting charged $12 a month on my checking account

Rhyan: Thank you for confirming.

Rhyan: Please allow me few moments while I access your account details.

You: np

You: can you also look up that joint account that i had opened?

You: i stupidly volunteered to organize my high school reunion – and didn’t close out that account

Rhyan: One moment please.

You: and then i accidentally used the wrong debit card and fees ensued..

Rhyan: I see you are assessed of the $12.00 monthly maintenance fee 8/12 , the reason why you are assessed of the fee is you are unable to met the daily balance requirement on the account.

Rhyan: To avoid the $12 fee, please maintain $1,500 or more average daily balance requirement or ,

Rhyan: At least one qualifying Direct Deposit of $250 or more made to your account (single direct deposit not an aggregated amount).

Rhyan: This new changes were effective 6/27/11, prior the fees would be assessed on customers account, notice were sent to the customer.

Rhyan: Also you can view the notice online if you are opted for electronic statements, please click accounts tab, then click accounts details, click My Statements link.

Rhyan: Please select changes on your account account link, to view the notice.

You: what!? ugh. well, either way it’s my fault.

You: i just want to make sure that all of my accounts are closed.

You: i have a pending transfer of 79.95 that should go out by thursday

You: and i don’t want my savings account – or my checking account to be charged again.

Rhyan: Closing an account is not a solution for this,

You: um.  too late.

Rhyan: What I can suggest to you is to convert the account to another type of account that will fit your banking needs.

You: when i set it up it was called, “my access free checking”  so…it’s
my fault that i didn’t read the letter saying that ‘my access free checking’
was now ‘my access free checking IF you keep a minimum of $1,500 Did you
get a chance to look at what went

You: went on with the joint account that i had?

Rhyan: Can you please share to me how you do your bank transactions?

Rhyan: Do you make transaction always online?

You: i do my banking transactions poorly.

You: obviously.

You: i want my accounts closed.

You: i use chase bank for my savings and checking.

You: they give me airline miles.

You: it’s amazing.

Rhyan: I understand that, however there are changes made for this type of account, also before the changes were implemented notice were sent to you  prior the fees to be implemented on your account.

You: Anyway – can you please confirm to me that neither of my accounts will assessed any additional fees for

You: yes.  i understand that

You: can you please re-read the above?

Rhyan: Let me check that for you.

You: ty

Rhyan: I see you have a Regular savings account.

Rhyan: And the balance of the account is zero, if you will not able to maintain the daily balance for this account fees may be assessed.

You: i don’t want to maintain any balance.

You: i want it closed.

Rhyan: So you are saying you want to request to close the savings account?

You: yes.  i want to close both accounts.

Rhyan: If you want to close an account, I would request you to please make the balance to zero, once the balance is zero you can request through this chat channel.

You: i don’t know how i possibly could have done exactly what you just said any more…

Rhyan: I see the savings account has zero
balance, please confirm this is correct.

You: Yes. the balance is zero.

You: Please close my savings account.

Rhyan: Oh I see. I hope I was able to assist you as per your expectation. If you have any other query, I will be glad to assist you. Thank you for choosing Bank of America’s Online Chat Service! We appreciate your business and have a wonderful day !

:|

xoxo,

-k

]]>

 ”People who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they’d never admit in normal conversation.”
— Chuck Klosterman

I’ve been having some crazy dreams lately—and usually, I only remember enough to send a funny text message, or do a quick search on DreamMoods, to find out what ‘pedaling a bicycle with your mother on the seat and grandmother sitting on the handlebars through the Heights,’ might mean–but this latest one was packed with enough action that I actually woke up and started writing it down, so here goes:

I woke up, not unlike any other day, except that Phil was going out of town and he was running late, so he quickly packed his suitcase and left.

Shortly after, my friend Adora came over with a suitcase and she started unpacking her things like she lived there—but needed to re-pack for another trip…and then, her MOTHER came in and she even had a suitcase and places to be–which tipped my confusion scale over to, “wha?”

I don’t even remember exactly what the eff went on, but I do distinctly remember taking my phone out to change my facebook status to:

and of course, I was pretty thrilled with my hilarity, but I didn’t even get to post it because the minute I got it all typed out, Adora was in the other room freaking out because she had to fax something, but couldn’t, so I put down my phone and went over to help, and I was trying to rush because I had to work, although, it wasn’t like I even could with either of them there because it was too much of a shit-show.

Anyway, once we got the fax machine to work, I started picking-up the place, but while I was doing it, all I could think of was how to subtly move my monitors back to my house so I could actually get some work done.

Then, Adora’s friend Karen comes in, (no suitcase, thank god) but everyone started talking in Spanish…so I walked into kitchen.

In the kitchen, I was surprised to find a claw-footed bathtub and a rotisserie chicken carcass.

The bathtub was where the dining table might normally go, so I didn’t really think too much of it, at first, but the rotisserie chicken carcass, on the other hand, was covered in ants and it was in the middle of the floor…which was much more disturbing to me initially—especially given I had also noticed a bag of dog food teeming with ants in the other corner of the room…

Any one of those things by themselves, would’ve been my usual cue to walk the fuck out, had I been awake, but some reason, my stupid sleeping-self, just kept right on walking into the kitchen and right on over to the tub…big mistake.

The tub, (that was in the kitchen), was NO SHIT, full of frogs and tadpoles and what I can only describe as some sort of mutant-combination of the two.

And then, I died…

But, surprise #1!  My dream didn’t stop there and Surprise #2:  I went to heaven.  Well, technically, I went to the line to get into heaven—so, well, whatever…

God was doing his character evaluation test by asking each person in the line, “Did you believe in me,” and for due diligence, he was also simultaneously reviewing the video footage of the person’s trials and tribulations, if you will, throughout their entire life on some sort of projector thing for all of us to see, so the wait didn’t seem to take that long, but I did start to get a little worried because I noticed that he asked, “DID YOU” not “Do You“–which, would have been much easier question, considering this new evidence–as long he didn’t follow up with, “If so, for how long”…but either way, I would’ve been better off, and especially so if points would’ve been awarded purely on completion…

Moving on, the dude in front of me, (who looked kind of like Blu from old school),  tried lie to God and he started going on about all his mission work, and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit–despite that it was God that he was talking to, and that we could all see the video replay of that not being the case…I don’t really remember everything that was said, but suffice it to say, even God was like, ‘dude, seriously?’ and dismissed him callously.

So, now that God was good and pissed-off, it was my turn, when he asked, “Did you believe in me?” I said, “Uh, well, not really…”and I just kind of nervously laughed and nodded at the screen, and said, “I mean, you can at least see why, right?”  And he laughed a little and shrugged his shoulders in a sort of “Ah, at least she’s honest, kind of way…” which made me feel relieved…But he still sent me downstairs.

Downstairs was a big church and apparently, there was some type of American Idol-type competition going on, only it was for preachers.  This is where my sub-conscious must have had mercy on me, because all of a sudden, Phil was beside me and we were casually reviewing the performances, but mostly, we were talking about how creepy the dudes were and then a bell rang.  Somehow, we both knew the bell meant we were late for choir practice so we started running.

We went up to the balcony part of the church, where it was a little dark and we see two suspicious looking people, (a slutty looking girl and a white-rapper looking dude) scurry off after they hear us, and for some reason, I said, “HA!  Looks like someone was getting a blow job.”

Phil says, “Yeah, I’d take one, right about now.” and we both laugh, and keep running.

So, I consider it—but think to myself, ‘Hmmm, I don’t know if we should–I think it might be bad for us to do if we were in a regular church, but I especially think it might be bad for us to do that in the downstairs church of Heaven, as in:  Heaven, the place that we just didn’t get into…but, then again, seeing as we’re not in Heaven already—surely, expectations can’t be that high…and I’m pretty sure that far worse things have been done in church” but, before I could even fully ramp up my justification for it, we got to our section and sat down before the sermon started.

In stark contrast to the usual, solo organ-player, this sermon pre-show had Nebrasksa cheerleaders that were dancing in the aisles—And by ‘Nebraska cheerleaders’ I mean:  more like slutty-Halloween costume Nebraska cheerleaders.  Except by ‘dancing’ I mean:  Awkward air-humping to inaudible music, while staring into your soul with their blank emotionless gazes–which, I guess might’ve been ok if it was dark–but, sadly, that was not the case and it ended looking more like this:

p.s. googling 'nebraska cheerleaders' might be creepier than photoshopping my friends...

+

As I was fighting to break a death-stare from one of the girls, the conversation went like this:

Me:  What kind of church is this?

Phil:  What the fuck?

Phil:  What are they doing?

Me:  Are those Nebraska uniforms? –

Phil:  *nods yes*

Which, of course, only freaked me out more, so I yelled: Why do I know that!?

and I woke up.

xoxo,

-k

Prior to this trip, I really only knew that Holland is where Heineken is brewed and Amsterdam is where the pot-heads and perverts of the world go to be themselves…and that’s pretty much it. Honestly, if my dad wouldn’t have drank so much Heineken while I was growing up, (or maybe, never made us get them out of the fridge, open the bottle and bring them to him?)… then I probably would’ve only known the latter, so…

Thanks dad.

Anyway, I’m sure I knew it once, but apparently that whole little section of Europe must have jumped the memory ship and moved on to be with the rest of the shit that I can’t remember…?

But, before we left for Amsterdam: I turned 30. I never expected to be one of those annoying girls who gets all depressed about how old she is and where her life is going, or worse: where it hasn’t gone yet, yada, yada, yada…but I was. I pretty much hid from all of my friends and family to avoid seeing my own short-comings reflected in their eyes and instead, I watched three episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras, and then tried to imitate this lady for the rest of the afternoon:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_t-bZe_8JAo

And then I didn’t feel so bad.

I also figured that feigning depression would be a good way to covertly track the number of ‘birthday meals’ I could squeeze out of my friends. So far, I’m like 3 for the 3. (1 meal per decade lived and counting… :) Not exactly through the roof, but 3 is better than the usual 1, right?

Also, if you think about it, having all of your friends show up on one night – for one meal -isn’t that smart. In fact, it’s the opposite. Here’s why:

You’re never going to have enough time to talk to everyone; they’re all just going to have to pretend to get along, and talk ‘small talk’ amongst themselves—which personally, just makes me feel anxious the whole time—especially, when the bill comes.

No matter what, having that many ‘friends’ eating out, birthday or not—if there are split checks involved: SOMEONE is going to get fucked over when it comes to paying the bill – but everyone is always going to think it was them.

It’s some sort of mathematical paradox, or a ’no one can keep track of much they ordered between the two of them, so let’s break out the crayon and add it all up’ black hole-a-dox, or something…

Either way, it’s a buzz kill.  Am I right?

So, back to Amsterdam:

Apparently, the summer is the worst time for hotel prices in Amsterdam—and Priceline wouldn’t give it up like she used to, which actually worked out for the best because I found this site: http://hipmunk.com --and it’s my new favorite.

It shows the yelp reviews, prices, locations, proximity to restaurants, museums and brothels—and it has tabbed browsing inside a tabbed browsing. It also shows listings from http://airbnb.com which is what we ended up using –which is how we also ended up in the middle of the red light district.

Amsterdam: Bikes and good beer...and a couple of brothels

The red light district wasn’t as seedy as you’d imagine, I’m happy to report. I don’t see what the big deal is anyway…Prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, right? SO—at least it’s regulated over there.

Just saying, I’d take the red light district over the dirty shit that goes on at Treasures in Houston, any day.

Speaking of treasures: Did I mention that I got a camera for my birthday? Did I mention that it’s a big fucker? Well, here it is:

Every little Ngo’s dream:

the big fucker

Unfortunately, they don’t allow pictures of the red light district—just having your camera out,  might result in it being thrown in a canal--so all I have to show for now, is this one of me at a coffee shop further up the street:

i heard extra music this night...

Advantages to wearing a giant camera:

The ability to stop wherever you want, whenever you want—and have masses of people get out of the way of ‘the shot’--, You could even potentially even draw a crowd, depending on the urgency with which you put the camera up to your face.

Somewhat-Expected disadvantage to the person who gave you a giant camera and everyone else in a 20 ft radius:

The ‘Asian Caboose’.  (click for larger view)

Before

After...

Tot ziens! :)

xoxo,

-k

find these two on facebook!

Of course, yoga made me start thinking about hippies, which was then exacerbated by the fact that I stumbled into some weed on the very same weekend…which of course made me start thinking about Dave Mathews…and then I stumbled across this little gem that I already written up, and I figured I would share:

Re: dave Mathews: fuck him (and john mayer) too. Buncha goddamm hippies. I don’t like crowds full of any people.. let alone crowds of dirty, dirt-loving-stoned-out-of-their-moccasins-and-leather-vests-with-fringe-hippies. Blech. And no. I’ve never been to one of his concerts. And yes, I get what you’re saying.   No. It’s not the same.

And, it pretty much sums up my weekend.

Here is what I came up with on the plane:

I made it to the gate a whopping 15 minutes early, which never should’ve have happened, considering I packed like an asshole, in 25 minutes or less.

No joke: last Thanksgiving I left my house so late that I had to park my car at the terminal instead of the economy lot, but I was also so broke, that I knew paying $20/day for eight days, plus not working for eight days , would end badly. So, I did what any reasonable adult would do and I left my car parked at the terminal, unlocked, with the keys in it.  I took a gamble on the off-chance that someone would either steal it, or that a friend might pull through for me and ferry it back to my house…(and enable me to continue making bad decisions with little, to no consequence.  Yaay! )

Anyway, as a result of my poorly executed morning, it seems as though procrastination has prevailed once again: I ate myself into a mini food-coma before the plane even left the ground and I awoke to the gentle sounds of beverages being served.

I am happy to report that I am currently full of Wendy’s, fully-napped, and half in the bag, on scotch #2….Here goes:

A Semi-Structured Stream of Unsolicited Advice–As Regards to Air Travel

Parking:

1. Park in the economy lot, (time permitting). They have all new shuttles and they changed the name from ‘Parking Cent$’ to ‘Eco-Park,’–which I would have guessed was short for ‘Economy’, because I don’t get how they’re playing the ‘green’ card.

   Now, I know that everyone is all gay for saving the earth and the miracles of compressed natural gas shit, but let’s be real: You’re at the airport…saving the planet isn’t real high on your agenda.

   Although, I would like to commend Eco-Park for upgrading their entire fleet (and their logo) and keeping the price at $4.69/day. That never happens. And, I dunno if Mother Earth really gives a shit, but I have to admit, riding around in the blue and green earth-mobile is far less embarrassing than being scooped up in a super-size kidnapper van with a giant, wheeled-pig on the side.

yes, that is a stick baby being run over by the old parking cents shuttle

Security:

1. Smile and be nice no matter how big of a hurry you’re in.Get 2-3 bins to put your shit in when you go through security. It’s not like you’re at a buffet; no one is judging you for how many pats of butter that you grab–don’t be shy. Cramming all of your junk into not-enough-bin-space, will only hold up the line when they have to re-scan your shit because it looks like one, amorphous blob of potential bomb.

   The bin order:

   1. Computer. And any other (small) squashables, e.g., eyeglasses or phone
   2. Bag. Conspicuously set your sac ‘o liquids to the side of said bag–this makes you look like well-informed and compliant traveler–which might come in handy, should your acute alcoholism symptoms ever betray you and come off more like sweaty, drug mule symptoms.
   3. Shoes. And try to take them off last, too. I don’t get the people who take their shoes off like it’s a race and then look around to count how many people they beat. How bout: You look like an asshole.

   Then, grab bin #1, put it on top of bin #2 and then stack them both on top of bin #3…and carry your shit, (one stack of three bins), away from the scanner and over to the benches to situate yourself.

Fiji Water is for assholes. And I like it.

After Security:

1. Buy a big bottle of water. Preferably Fiji so you can look like a proper asshole.Why?Because it has a lid, dipshit. And it will last you 2-5 days, provided you find a water alternative along the way.

   Additionally, the bottle is a nice, rigid plastic, (not the sorry excuse for a plastic bag that Ozarka comes in now), so you won’t feel like such a bum if you happen to look like a bum. And, if you refill it, the bottle won’t look like you have been keeping it stashed behind your burn-barrel all winter, especially if you’re going to use it like a real bum and put vodka in it.

On Board:

1. Take your laptop out of your bag right when you get to your seat and put it in the seat pocket. (or your ipad or your phone, or extra bottles of scotch or wine…whatever).

   Not only does this save a huge amount of jostling and grunting, it also saves you from being the asshole who just took 15 minutes and someone’s fucking eye out to barely boot-up his laptop before he has to put the stupid thing back up again because, Surprise! We’re there, jerk.

2. Pack a lunch. Or, buy some easy to transport/easy to eat/junk food and bring it on board with you, (put the trash in the vomit bag and hand it to the flight attendant all carefully, like you yakked in it).

   Seriously though, have you ever wondered why your mom constantly tries to hand you granola bars and/or assorted fruit and won’t stop coming closer to you with it until you take it and put it in your bag? Ever wonder why Asian people always pack a snack of delicious foodstuffs, even if they’re only going eight blocks up the street?

   Well, it’s because they’re smarter than you.

   If you bring your own food, then not only are you in charge of its deliciousness, but you’re also in charge of when you eat it, making feel a little less like county jail…and more like nap time.

Speaking of nap time, chicka check out the voyeur-ific, hard-core nap action below:

look how fucking happy everyone is. (mouse over to see the opposite)

All right, I think I’ve spread enough wisdom for today…All this, coming from a girl who has a propensity for stopping when everyone else is going…yet can’t help but stay there, frozen with Asian-ness…immobilized.

And it gets worse if I actually realize what’s happening.  So, I have that going for me.

Adios,  thanks for sticking with me…here are a few travel related pics and assorted birthday cards for your amusement:

xoxo,

-k