Ha

I think I'd be totally freaked out if I saw this creature running around in and outside of your house on the day of Christmas.

Off the airport now, bye bye guys!

Holiday Beauty Contest

Around the cubical floor, on the cabinet, on top of the drawer, and on the border where the cubical meets… Everyone has been decoration their own space with shades Christmas.

Coming into the office today, really reminded me that the Holiday season has arrived. And, today is my LAST working day in 2003. After today, I’ll be going on my fabulous vacation. Where am I going? Oh, I’m going home. (You think I can afford going to Europe again? The trip I had drained my bank account)

Which, also means, that I will not be blogging for a while. (I will return on the first Monday of 2004)

Anyway, it has been like a tradition here at work, of giving out Christmas cards. People who have their own office, tape the cards on the door. Us cubical people, would either tape it on the side of the wall, or have the cards stand on top of our cabinets. More and more people would purchase box set of cards from the 99 cents store, and give them out. Hoping they will get one in return.

The cards usually contain the following:

To Name:

And

From Name:

Nothing else. They don’t even bother to write Happy New Year or Holidays.

Myself, on the other hand, I wold include the TO and FROM names, and also few words of holiday greetings. Depends on whom the card is for, I sometime include drawings of a smiley, big nose deer, or stick-figure Santa. (See, I’m a very thoughtful person.)

I gave them out yesterday. All of my two boxes of cards. Not that I wanted to be Mr. Popular or Mr. Who-Wants-To-Kiss-Up-To-Me 2003, I just want to express my appreciation to my co-workers. Besides, this will be the time I will be giving them any cards. (My unit is moving, remember?)

This morning, I walked into my cubical, and found nothing on my desk.

Nothing.

I was a little saddened by the fact that no one gives a damn about my presence.

Seriously, I have tried really hard to be as superficial as possible. I’ve always pretend that I really enjoyed their company, had fun chatting, glad to work with them… I never give them attitudes or tell them how loud they were. I thought they would think I’m sweet, shy and totally innocent. They all knew that my unit is moving soon, and none of them care. What is going on?!

No wonder my co-worker (of the same unit), Ms. Flower said: “No One Here is Your Friend. Trust NO ONE!�

Sigh...

Click Here to view the e-Card I made.


Happy Holidays, Everyone. Be Good, Be Safe, and Enjoy. I will see you all in year 2004!

Okay. The entries that I posted yesterday never showed up. Is it my browser, or is it blogger? Argh. *knock* *knock* *knock* Hello, testing testing, anyone reading this?

Color Me Bad!

Going bald has always been my greatest fear after I moved to New York. I used to have thick full fabulous hair when I was living in the Sunshine State. But, for some reason, my body (and habits) totally changed after my migration. Aside from dramatic hair lost, I have started to snore, drool (more), pick my nose in public, and got paler skin complexion.

Anyway, I have a thing for hair. I have been shop for hair products that will improve my hair growth, or even, covert my thin hair back into thicker, fuller hair. So far, I have found some products that worked quite nice.

The point is, I baby my hair very much.

However…

I have been thinking about changing my hair color for the longest time. For the last couple months, I have been wondering back and forth at the hair product section in grocery stores. But I have always afraid to use any chemical on my fragile scalp. I don’t want to cause too much damage to my hair/scalp, and end up with NO hair. It was not until 3 weeks ago, Paw and I went to shop for Haircolor (He wanted to dye his hair dark brown), I picked up a second box of dark reddish-brown haircolor.

“This one is for your back up, incase you need to ‘recharge’ your hair.� I said to Paw.

Paw looked at me with a grin on his face. He smiled.

“What you smiling for?�

He reached forward to grab the box from my hand.

“I’ll pay for this.� I said as I moved away from him.

That night, I helped Paw dying his hair.

“There are still a lot left.�

I held the plastic bottle containing the hair-damaging chemical to Paw.

He said that it would be a waste and asked me to pour the entire bottle on his head.

“But, you already got enough on your head!� I replied.

Out of the blue (uh huh, sure, yeah right), I suggested that I can use the rest of the bottle on my own hair.

So I did.

After I emptied the entire bottle, we sat in front of the television and start playing video games.

“You have to wait 15-20 minutes.� I reminded Paw.

He turned to me and said that he usually left it on his hair longer.

“This thing will burn your scalp! Do as instructed.�

Then he pointed at my hair.

“Your scalp turned red.�

That was when I felt the burning – itching sensation on the first layer of my scalp.

“Oh My Gosh. I’m sensitive to this sh*t!� I screamed as I ran into the restroom.

I turned on the water and dipped my head into the sink. (Do as instructed? Oh whatever!!)

After 2 minutes, I successfully rinsed the color out of my hair.

I walked out of the restroom, toward the TV, and then sat next to Paw.

“You don’t feel anything?�

“No.�

“Oh, good to be you.�

After 15 minutes, I sent Paw to the restroom to rinse his hair.

His hair turned out extremely good. Mine, on the other hand, turned some what dark-brownish. (Too dark, I had to see my hair up close in the mirror, under the yellow light, to see the ‘brown’ in it.)

Bitter sweet, was probably the best word to describe my feeling at that time. Yes. I did dyed my hair, but I was upset over the fact that my fragile scalp couldn’t handle the chemical. I was upset for the fact that my hair didn’t change much.

“I’m going to do it again.� I said to myself.

2 days after, still remembering the shock I had from my hair-dye, I walked into the local drug store during lunch hour.

While looking for some snacks, I ‘accidentally’ walked into the hair product section and ‘accidentally’ picked up a box of non-ammonia haircolor, and then ‘accidentally’ purchased it with my credit card. (Uh, yeah, it felt like, I was day dreaming. Uh huh. That’s right. I didn’t really want to buy the haircolor, really. It was an accident.)

(And you thought I was going to use that dark brown hair color? Well, honey, you are wrong. Dark Red/Purple shades all the way, baby!)

Later that night, I opened the little magical box containing the ingredient that will transform my hair and myself) into a total fairy. No. I mean, into a totally different person. (New Feeling, New Style. I love it!)

Without a second though, I applied the hair gel on my head.

Ammonia-Free, this should be safe right?

I timed myself. Stood in front of the mirror in the restroom, I waited.

“20 minutes� as I re-read the instruction to myself.

Gradually, the gel on my hair start to change into a dark shade of red.

I waited some more.

Then… this happened.

Afraid that my scalp would burn, I rinsed my hair after the initial 5 minutes.

The result?

Up close to the mirror, under the yellow light, I noticed that my hair turned ‘slightly’ red. It was extremely difficult to tell if there have been any changes to the color.

I was bitter sweet again.

Why did I rinse out the color so early? I didn’t feel any burn?

Is it because I didn’t want to end up looking like Ronald McDonald?

Is it because I have not seen any Asian men at work with ‘dyed’ hair?

Is it because I’m afraid that people at work will look at me funny?

I couldn’t answer myself.

The next day, I ‘accidentally’ bought myself a box of low-ammonia haircolor.

“My, what a beautiful shade of Dark PURPLE!�

That is what I said to myself that night, in front of the mirror.

Following the instruction, I mixed the flora-scented chemicals together.

“Low Ammonia, this shouldn’t do much damage.� I assured myself as I squeezed the gel onto my hair.

Slowly, I watched the gel turned pink. It didn’t look like the color appearing on the box. But I assure myself, that the real color will come out after I rinse the hair.

So I waited.

And waited.

“15 minutes. That is all I need. 15 minutes�

Then I saw the roots of my hair turned pink.

Then I saw the surface of my scalp turned pink.

Oh My Gawd!

I waited for a total of 8 minutes before I dipped my head into the sink.

While I was waiting for my hair to dry, I noticed the following words on the haircolor box

“Now you can permanently enhance and brighten your own natural hair color without dramatically changing your color.�

Is that why under the yellow restroom light, my hair turned dramatically brownish red. But after I stepped into the room, under regular light, my hair turned back to black.

I was feeling bitter. (not sweet)

This is not satisfying me.

Do I have shine a flash up at my hair whenever I want people to notice my hair?

Do I have to walk into the restroom (with yellow light blab) to see the change to my hair?

This is great, NO one will suspect that I have a different shade of hair! Including myself!

I want this. No. I don’t want this. Ah….

However, I decided to stop dying my hair, at least, until I grown out all the ‘color-enhanced’ hair.

Which, would probably took me 2-3 months before I can dye my hair again.

I really don’t want to create further damage to my scalp. Where the roots already have been ‘soaked’ by chemicals.

“This is it, Wayne. You will never be happy with whatever color you got. You have tried it, and you are not getting the result. It is time to stop, before you turned bald.�

Then after a week, I ‘accidentally’ walked into a drug store again and bought myself a non-ammonia haircolor. (another dark red-shade color)

I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t help myself.

I went home, took off my clothes and walked into the restroom.

Repeat the routine that I have been cautiously doing during the last couple weeks, it didn’t took me too long before I got all the color gel on my hair.

I stood in front of the familiar mirror, watched the familiar hair gel turned into a familiar shade of dark red that looked exactly like what it appeared on the box.

Good. I felt a lot safer.

So I waited.

And waited.

Then…

The thought of me turning bald, forced me to dip my head in the sink and rinse my hair.

I waited for a total of 10 minutes this time.

The result, my hair didn’t change much. But up close and personal against the mirror (under any light), I can tell that my hair is no longer black.

Another thing that I noticed, was that my hair don’t ‘shine’ under the light. (The glow from the previous dye went bye bye!)

I took out the haircolor box out of the trash can, and found the following:

“It enhances your hair color, adds texture, but does not lighten the hair…�

Oh My Dear GAWD. Do I really have to use one of those Ammonia-Intense Haircolor to get the result that I want ?!

I’ve dyed my hair 4 times with this month.

Oh My Gawd.

What have I done?!

Coloring Recap:

Original Hair- Black.

Color #1- Feria by L’Oreal: French Roast #45 (Level 3 / Permanent Color – Contains Ammonia)

Color #2- Natural Instinct by Clairol: Egyptian Plum - Burgundy Brown #90 (Level 2/ Last up to 24 Washes – Ammonia Free)

Color #3 – Lumia by Garnier: Plum Orchid #32 (Level 3 / Permanent Hair color, Gives the hair a light-reflecting shade without changing the original hair color – Low Ammonia)

Color #4 – ColorSpa by L’Oreal: Caution Red #13 (Level 2 / Last up to 28 Washes – Ammonia Free, enhances the hair without lighten it.)

It has been 5 days since the coloring, and I have been using regular shampoo for my hair. The shampoo indeed, altered and washed out some shades. My hair is no longer black or dark brown now. Want to guess what color is my hair now?

(FANNY, is that why you kept on looking at my hair last night?)

Picture of the Day

I found a way of keeping myself awake during the meetings...

Uh, weird. Is it me, the internet or just the blogger is having a whole lot of problems today. Argh.

Update: Damn. I can't believe I spent the entire day at work fixing this site. Argh. Argh. Arrggghhh!! I have to work at home tonight...Arrrgggghhhh!!!

*sigh*

I will post new entry tomorrow......

Farewell

I can still remember the first day that I start working at this company. Because of this job position, I moved all the way from my beloved California to New York. The first day at work was nerve-shocking. Unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar environment and unfamiliar work flow. Like an artist needing inspiration, on my first day of work, I looked for eye candies that will make my working life more pleasurable.

On my entire floor, there is only one person who caught my attention. David. Aside from his young age (being a Director of another department), handsome Tom-Cruise-que face, crystal clear green eyes, soft healthy-looking brown hair, nice average-build body and a Law Degree; David has the most amazing attitude towards other people.

After I saw him down the Hallway, I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect of a husband he would be. My heart almost burst into pieces when I found out that my cubical is right across from the entrance to his office. Though out the years, David, had been with me though up and downs. (Not that he was really there, but mentally, he made my stressful day at work less stressful.) Since we work for different departments, we never really had the chance to carry on a conversation. I never had the chance to accidentally drop my handkerchief and totally bend over and push my ass toward his direction. (This move requires special butt-pads to make the butt curve more round and smooth.) But listening to the sound of his voice really sooth my tension. He’s very genuine when he talks with his fellow co-workers. I love it when he laughed at co-worker’s joke, or when he was discussing some law-related issues over the phone, or even, when he sighted after he found out that his client was facing family difficulty. (Sh*t, I’m a stalker!) Even on his Birthday, there weren’t many people that would celebrate with him. I had such an urge of jumping into his office and give him the lapdance of his life. But I couldn’t do it. I had no reason to burst into his office.

David has been my fantasy husband for the longest time, during my SINGLE days. Even thought that feeling had ‘die’ down a little tiny bit… But whenever I get a quick glance at David, he stills make my heart skip a beat.

Seriously, he played a huge part for me not hating New York as much as I wanted to.

When I heard the news about our group will be moving to another building, the first thing that came to my mind, is how far away that I will be from David. I didn’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t just want to move out of this building without saying anything. I mean, will he miss me? Will he even noticed that he’s got a secret admirer?

Gosh, I’m so gonna miss him.

But we are not moving until next year, so, I get to see and hear more of David.

This morning, when I was getting my bottles of vitamins out of my bag, David walked down the hallway.

He saw me.

I looked back up to him.

David: “Hi Wayne.”

Wayne: “Hey! Good Morning.” (Yes Sweet Heart, how can I service you today?)

David: “How are you doing?”

Wayne: “Well, it’s Friday, you know. Thank Gawd!” (I’m doing fabulous Darling, want me to help you out of your clothes? I can make you feel much better when both of us are naked.)

David: “Good to hear.”

Then he paused a little.

I looked at him in the eyes.

David: “Uh, Just to let you know, that today is my last day.”

Wayne: “Ah? Really?” (OH WHAT!? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? YOU GONNA LEAVE ME AFTER YOU PLAYED ME LIKE THAT?!)

David: “That was what the party was about yesterday.”

Wayne: “Are you, quitting this job for good?” (David, please, don’t go~)

David: “Yes. I got an offer from ______ (name of the firm). With better pay and benefits. More room to exercise my skills.”

Wayne: “Oh, then this is a great news. I’m sure ______(the company that I work for) will miss having you working for them.” (Sweetheart, I’m very happy for you. Now, you can ear more money and then buy us a house, and a car, we gonna have 2 kids, 2 dogs, and probably a house boy while you are at it.)

David: “I wish.”

Wayne: “Well, I’m not sure what I should say. All I know is that I wish you the best luck with the new company, and Happy Early Holiday.” (David, wahhhh… I’m gonna cry…)

David reached over and shook my hand firmly. “Thank you.” Then he returned to his office.

While going to another building to help some moron with the computer, I secretly went to Hallmarks and bough David a card, along with some whiskey chocolates. Upon returning to my desk, I started to do my art project. I wrote in the card, that it was great having him as a co-worker, even though we never worked together, and how I wish him greater success with his career and blah blah. Then I drew a little rain-deer on the side, posing the famous victory sign with its fingers. On the bottom, I signed my name, and followed by a smiley. I used masking tape, and tapped the chocolates on the envelope. One by one, they formed the pattern of a colorful sun flower.

I inserted the card in the envelope, and then placed it on his desk. (He went to have a goodbye-lunch with fellow directors.)

Then I went to lunch.

Later in the afternoon, David knocked on the wall where my cabinet is standing next to.

David: “Wayne?”

I turned and looked back. (Yes Baby?)

David: “Thank you.” He looked at me in the eyes.

Wayne: “You are very welcome. I wasn’t really prepared. I left all my Christmas stuff at home.”

David: “That was really nice. Wayne. Thank you, I thank you very much!”

He shook my hands again.

I smiled back. “Good luck!!” (It is you leaving me first before I leave you… )

He nodded his head, and return to pack his stuff.

Farewell David, hope that you will succeed in the new Company, and may lots of cuties surround you and make your work environment a real paradise.

Your Biggest Fan,

Wayne

Phone Memory IV

Phone Rings…

Wayne picks up the phone.

Female Voice: “Hi! May I speak to Ms. XXXXX XXXXX?”

Wayne: “May I ask who is speaking?”

Female Voice: “I’m Jody, calling from XXXXXX…(and she continued to introduce the name of the whatever credit card company she represents)”

Wayne: “Oh, she’s currently not available right now.”

Jody: “Are you related to Ms. XXXXX?”

Wayne: “No. I’m her cousin’s friend. Just visiting.”

Jody: “Sir, I would like to inform you about a new great plan. Currently, we are offering 0% APR for the first year… ”

Wayne: “Meow.”

Jody paused.

Wayne: “Meow meow meow meow Meow meow meow meow”

Jody: “Excuse me?”

Wayne: “I’m the house cat now. Cats don’t use credit cards.”

Jody: “V-E-R-Y funny.” (She said it in a sarcastic way.)

Wayne: “Got the hint? I’m not interested.”

Jody: “Well, thank you sir. If you changed your mind, please call 1-800-….”

Wayne: “Meow Meow”

Wayne hangs up the phone.


I’m not usually this rude. But this specific credit card ding-dong calls our place at least 2-3 times a month. Argh!

Toilet Tale: Beauty King

Some of you might have read the first Toilet Tale, and from that, you have learned how uncomfortable I am when it comes to exposing myself in the men’s room in front of co-workers. (NOT exposing my private parts. Exposing as in, letting people see/know that WAYNE is getting rid of the toxins from his body.)

This morning, around 10:45 AM, I had the urge of using the Men’s Room. As I was on my way, I prayed for an empty Men’s room.

I couldn’t pee when there are other people standing near me. When I was younger, I had no problem with it. But for some reason, the older I get, the more conscious I am about other people’s presence. If someone stood at the urinal next to mine, my urge of peeing would be there, but I just couldn’t force it out. Perhaps, I got nervous when someone shared a small space with me or unconsciously, I don’t want people to hear my pee splashing against the urinal wall.

After unlocking the first door, my heart shattered in pieces. I heard noises. But it was too late. They must have already heard me entering the Men’s Room. If I turned back and closed the door, it would be very weird.

I walked though the second door, and ran into someone from the other department.

Good. He’s gone.

Right after I stepped onto the tiled floor, I saw there were two other guys at the urinals. (This Men’s Room has a total of 4 urinals.) And I seriously didn’t want to stand next to neither one of them.

So, I turned on my baby-steps mode and walked slowly to the paper towel dispenser. I pulled out a piece of paper towel, and wiped it against my neck tie. Pretending that I was cleaning some stains.

As soon as the two men were washing their hands at the sink, I tossed the paper towel in the bin, and walk toward the panel of urinals.

Good timing, I thought. I have planned everything so seamlessly, that they will never had the clue that I was waiting for them to get out of the Men’s Room.

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning after the two men walked out of the door. I stood in front of the urinals, feeling proud. I had the Men’s Room all to myself.

Right after I made my decision of which urinal that I was going to use, the toilet stall door in the far end of the Men’s Room slammed open.

A guy in dark blue suit came out.

Rats! I didn’t realized that someone was in the stall. He must have been waiting for those two men to leave.

He came out so fast, that he already saw me standing in front of the urinal. I couldn’t just turned and wipe my neck tie with the towel again. So, I stood there, pretending that I was pissing.

From the sound of his foot steps, I could tell which sink that he had picked to wash his hands.

Sigh.

So, there I was, standing in front of the middle Urinal, holding my pee. In my mind, I chanted that the guy would finish washing his hands, dried them with the paper towel, and get his A$$ out of the damn bathroom.

After I heard him ripped the paper towels out of the container, I felt slightly relieved.

But the act must go on. I didn’t want him to think I was taking the longest piss ever. So, I grabbed my belt and shake it up and down, pretending that I was finishing off with my business. (From behind, you couldn’t really tell if I was holding the belt or my….uh, you get the idea.) I shook my belt 5 times, and he was still there.

By the source of the noise, I knew he was standing in front of the sink, that is closest to the entrance.

What exactly was he doing? He dried his hands already.

I shook my belt again.

Okay, I’m done with the shaking. I have to do the next step.

Then I zipped up my pants. (I was still holding my pee) And let out a deep breath.

And he was still there.

Proceed to the next step, I buckled up my belt, slowly… Hopping that the guy would leave.

He was still there.

Damn it! He is going to be there forever!

Since I have already completed the entire virtual “Peeing” process. I had to do the finale.

I turned and walked to the sink at the corner.

With the glimpse of my eyes, I saw him fixing his hair.

Then I realized he was checking himself out.

He tilted his face slightly to the right, looking at the edge of his side-burn and then turn to the other side. Then he looked into the mirror, looking at his face. And he grinned a little.

In my head, I was like…”Hello? I’m here too, you know.”

He turned his face to the left, and checked out his right cheek.

From the corner of my eyes (I was still washing my hands), I saw him wetted his finger, and then rubbed it along his right eye brow.

Moron! I’m out of here!

I rinsed my hand quickly with water, walked over, grabbed the paper towels, rubbed my hands against them, dumped them in the trash can, and then walked out of the door.

And yes, I was still holding my pee.

Having to finished the entire Pee-routine, and yet, walked out of the Men’s Room with a full bladder was completely unsatisfactory. But I had no choice. My pee wouldn’t come out at that guy’s presence.

I went back to my desk and waited 5 more minutes before I went back to the Men’s room again.

At 11:05 AM, I finally had my own space in the Men’s room.

It felt good. It felt really good.

Wayne!

(This is the entry that I didn’t quite finish from Friday at work)

Yesterday, I got off work a little late. Not because the work load that had been stressing me out. I actually lost track of time while I was chatting with Bruce online. (Without Instant Messenger, work would be so very boring)

Anyway, after we finished chatting, I shut down the computer, turned off the printer, locked up the cabinet containing my snacks and tea bags, and then rushed down to the first floor to catch the subway.

Everything went well; I caught up with almost everything in time. The Subway and the Train back home.

Like the usual me, I stroll down the stairs to where the train parked, and stepped in. I have had a long day, and felt really less-glamorous. Since my mustache grows very fast, I got my five o’clock shadow at 2 PM. My pale skin along with the dark eye sags made me look a zombie. Anyway, I took a couple zombie steps in the train, pretend to be looking for a seat, but I was really checking out the passengers to see which cabin is worth “standing” in.

So, I was strolling down the cabin, wearing my black long coat, gray scarf, inside, I was wearing my dark gray suit, white dress shirt and a gray/blue strap tie. Underneath my clothes, I was totally naked. Ahem. Down the first ¼ section of the cabin, I heard:

“WAYNE!”

I stopped.

In my head, my brain start to analyze the tone, pitch and the accent of the voice, trying to identify the owner of the voice.

No Clue.

I turned.

I looked.

Okay, none of the faces matched my brainy database.

Then I looked toward the direction where the voice came from.

I saw a gentleman. Sitting near the window seat, looking at me.

I looked back and start to match his face with everyone that I know from work.

Nope. No match.

“Hi, I’m XXXXX!” he said.

Huh?

I raised my eye brow, while filtering the names in my memory that matches his name.

The only XXXX I know is a girl. And she’s in California.

“I’m XXXXX…. (mixed with some noise on the train) and (more noise) ….blog!”

Blog!

He read my BLOG!

I reached forward my right hand, offering him a handshake, but I quickly pulled back.

I forgot to take off my gloves. So I took off the black leather glove off my right hand with my left, and then reach my flesh covered hand to XXXXX.

We shook hand. And at the same time, I was filtering though the names of the fellow bloggers in my head.

Then it finally clicked.

XXXXX never blogged. But he had commented on my entries before.

So, I stood there, and start talking to XXXXX, who was sitting on the cabin seat, along with a total stranger stuck between us.

“Oh wow, I wasn’t expecting (Train Noise) (Train Noise) here (Train Noise) and (Train Noise)…”

The conversation carried on. I was totally comfortable standing while talking on the train. But XXXXX was more conscious of other people’s space around us. (I’m a motor mouth some times) Therefore, he got up and offered to chat at the ‘standing’ zone. (The entrance area of the train)

So we went there.

For a good 10-20 minutes, which seemed like forever, we were waiting for the Train to leave the tunnel, because the noise were extremely loud. But after that, we just kept on chatting and chatting and chatting and chatting and chatting until we have arrived at the stop.

Then I get to meet his partner, XXXXXX, whom, have also read my blog. XXXXX asked XXXXXX to guess who I was, but he couldn’t really match the face with the blog. The confused expression on his face was classic.

They offered me a ride back to my apartment and that was the end of the night.

I have told XXXXX that he was the first blogger (well, as described by himself, a blog commenter) that I ever met in person. (I’m sure that I have bumped into a lot of you at the Gay Life Expo, but I couldn’t identify / recognized.) Little did XXXXX realize that he was the very first person in my entire life that recognized and called me from my internet blog/website. I have been in the world of internet for ages, and my pictures are all over the place. I’ve never had anyone, came up to me on the street, and said “Hey! I know you!! You are Wayne!!”

I was really caught by surprised. First time ever, that someone I didn’t know or never seen, actually knew me. (Surprised, Positive Reaction. Shocked, Negative Reaction. I was surprised.)

XXXXX is a very nice and friendly guy. XXXXXX is too! I’m glad that I had the chance to meet such wonderful people. HI XXXXX Hi XXXXXX! Are you guys Reading this?!

Ahem. If you see me on the street, don’t hesitate to say Hi! I don’t bite, really. I mean, I don’t bite when I’m fully clothed.

The Snow Stormy

We are 3 weeks ahead of the Winter schedule. I guess the Winter Fairy decided to pay a visit to the East Coast and give us a little taste of what’s coming ahead.

Following the foot steps….



Passed the snowy cars…



To the snowy play yard…



I got wet.

Excuse Me

I am currently stuck at a Training Session since early this morning. Thanks to the new department management. Everyone in the systems group is required to attend.

Like a good boy that I have always been (uh-huh) - I arrived at the training room on time. Not a minute early, not a minute late. (Despite that this training took place outside of NYC. I had to take the train from Long Island to the city, and then take the subway to where I work. Grabbed my damn notes. Then walked all the way to the Ferry, and took the little bumpy ferry boat ride to this building with no cafeteria.)

It turned out that only 60% of the student showed up. I was totally cool with that. Less people, less chance that I will get caught checking my emails and surfing the web.

Though out the entire morning, I was as cool as a cucumber. (Don't ask me what this mean. I heard this expression from the commentator during the Summer Olympics, before Shannon Miller start her floor exercise.) But I was quiet, fast (I kept the record of being the first trainee to finish the in-class room exercise), and professional. (I was the only person who wore suit to the class. I forgot that we can wear semi-casual wear to training.)

So I was very cool in the early morning. And then some what cool around 10:30 AM, and then I can feel the pressure underneath my eyes around noon.

I have always been a morning person. During the weekdays, whenever the clock reached 2 PM, my brain start fall asleep. I would get really sleepy.

It was around 2:30 PM, and we were assigned to do the in-class exercise #5. Again, I was full speed ahead of other students.

I did part four.

And yawned a little.

I did part five.

I yawned a little again.

After I completed part six, my mouth automatically stretched itself out.

Yes. I was yawning. All of the sudden, I had this sudden force rushing up against my throat.

Then it happened...

****BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP****

In my head, I was screaming "Ginger Ale!"

Then words came out of my mouth:

"Oh Shit!"

"Ops."

"Ahem. I mean, Excuse Me."

To embarrassed to check out fellow classmate's reaction, I kept my eyes focused on the monitor.

They were pretty quiet, but who knows what was in their mind or what they will gossip about after the class?!

Oh well. So here I am, finished in-class exercise #6 already, and also finished writing this entry.

China

Like a typical morning when I’m at home, Dad would prepare the breakfast early in the morning. I walked down the stairs, with sky blue long sleeves sweater and pale-blue-green pants on my body.

“Breakfast is ready.” Said my Dad.

As usual, on top of the newspaper-covered dining table, I see little dishes of minced Chinese preserved turnip, spicy pickled bamboo shoots, shibazuke, sweet bean curd, dried pork, fried eggs and two bowls of congee (boiled rice gruel).

While I was in the Kitchen, pouring myself a cup of warm water, I heard Dad’s voice coming from the dining room.

“Do you want sesame balls for desert?”

I reminded my Dad that we shouldn’t eat too much, because I will take him out to lunch later in the day.

“That’s right.”

I walk into the dining room and sat down on the chair.

“I over-cooked the eggs a little, see if you like it crispy on the edge.” Said Dad.

I picked up my pair of chopsticks and reached for the fried eggs.

He insert a spoon full of congee mixed with some turnips into his mouth.

Since I was sitting right in front of the cabinet, I cannot not noticed the new items added to the collection.

“Where did that Fan came from?” I asked.

“From my Uncle. He gave it to me when I was visiting Shanghai.” He said.

“Looks pretty.”

“Of course. It was one of the items that were taken by the government during The Chinese Cultural Revolution. The government finally released these items recently.”

“Nice.”

“I also found those China in the garage.”


China, chi·na
n.
1. High-quality porcelain or ceramic ware, originally made in China.
2. Porcelain or earthenware used for the table.


I looked at the direction of where he was facing.

8 blue and white patterned plates sat on the lower section of the display cabinet. Each one of them has the design of a blue dragon, chasing a fire ball. 4 big dinner plates, 2 salad-size plates, and 2 tiny sauce saucer.

“Your Grandma gave them to your mom. And She got them from her Grandma. These China plates are antiques. I’m sure they worthy a lot of money now… There may be some amazing history behind these fine china.” Said my Dad, while eyeing the cabinet.

“Oh, really.” I replied after I shovel a piece of bean curd though my lips.

“How come we only have 8 plates? I thought there were more…” Dad seemed puzzled.

Having the bean curd in my mouth, a giant flashback cluster swirled in front of my eyes.

Like viewing a magic mirror, I saw a 10 years Wayne pouring the watercolor mix on one of the blue small saucers and used it as a palette. Then there came Mom, pouring pan fried noodles onto the big blue plate and placed it on the dining table. Wayne said “Noodle!” My sister, on the other hand, took out the broken medium-size plate (watercolor palette) out of her backpack, and tossed them into the trash can. Wayne, walked in to the kitchen and picked up a big blue plate and asked Mom, “Is this it?” Mom nodded her head. Then Wayne walked to her and handed her the plate. Mom took it from Wayne’s hand and placed it under a small pot of Orchid. “Perfect.” She said. My sister yelled “Damn it!” as she opened the oven. “The plate snapped in half while I was baking the sweet potatoes.” Then Mom said, “Yeah. These plates are useless. Just the other day, I accidentally left one on top of the stove, and it also snapped in half. These has heat-tolerance at all.” All of the sudden, my dog accidentally stepped onto a blue saucer and made it jumped off the kitchen counter. The saucer shattered instantly.

The sweetness of the bean curd traveled from the center of my tongue up to my brain, and added a strange sense of awkwardness to my visions of the missing plates.

I tossed the bitter-sweet History of the 4 missing China behind my head, and turned my head to him.

“That’s weird. Mom only took 8 of them back.”

My Dad blinked his eyes.

“Probably my mistake. The complete set has 8 plates.”

“Sure.” I looked back down at my bowl of congee…

Milk, it does a body good! III


Sitting in my Math class, still over-joyed by my victory over the bastard boy, I started to look back the actions that I took, and those that I didn’t.

I remember saying to myself, that I didn’t really hate the bastard boy as much as I used to. Even though I have pictured the scenarios of me attacking him, they were more of self-defending tactics. Despite how much I thought I was strong and confident, when I saw him, I was scared. Some where inside of my head, alerted me of this individual. Maybe because of what happened in 7th grade. But I didn’t hate him.

While Mr. K (the Math Teacher) was explaining whatever he was explaining (as you can see, I wasn’t much of a good student. My mind wonders all the time), I started to reflect my actions.

But what caused my thought of vengeance?

Because the damn bastard boy pushed and called me a sissy.

But why he called me a sissy?

Because my spinning side-kick was weak.

But was my side-kick really weak?

The damn bastard boy didn’t show any signs of pain.

Why did you kick him at first place?

Because…

It was then, like a puzzle that had been freshly solved, I learned something about myself.

Like what John did to me in 4th grade. He punched me, just because he had never punched anyone, therefore, he experienced it on me. He ended up loosing my friendship.

I kicked the Bastard boy in 7th grade, because I have never kicked anyone before, and thought it was a good excuse for me to exercise my curiosity. I ended up being humiliated.

I was, indirectly, being a bully to myself.

It was, indeed. Karma. (And many of you wrote about it!)

I felt ashamed of what did I.

Really, I did.

My 7th grade experience of being bullied was the last in my life. I think my 10th grade was really the end of the era of me being immature. We have all came to the age where physical fighting is for ‘kids.’ (Now days, we use law suits, assassins and spasm [e]mails.)

It was indeed, a life changing experience for me.

Milk, It does a body good! II

My 7th grade was filled with up and downs. Aside from my dramatic improvement with my English language speaking/writing skills, I have also struggled to get myself out of the ESL (English as a second language) class.

The 40 minutes lunch time was considered Heaven, to us 7th graders. Aside from getting away from books, lectures and teachers, it was a great time for friends to gossip and play. However, unlike other students, I was more of a loner. I’d usually hang out with two other Asian boys, since there were very few of them on campus, but for some reason, I couldn’t connect with them. (Well, they talked about girls this girls that, and I had problem getting into the conversation.) So, most of my lunch time, I’d walk around aimless near the grass field.

I couldn’t remember the exact day or time that this happened, but I came across 3 guys while I was walking. I actually knew one of them. Jeff, was his name. He used to live near my home before we moved to another neighborhood.

I gave Jeff a quick nod and continue to walk pass them. Then all of the sudden, one of the guys grabbed my right arm.

Moron: “Hey You. What’s the hurry?”

Wayne: “I’m not in a hurry.”

I tried to shake his hand off my arm.

Moron: “Oh yeah? You know Kung Fu?”

Then he started to make the famous Bruce Lee “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…Ayyyiiiii” sound, while tighten his fingers around my elbow.

I remember saying “Let Go!” to the bastard, and looked over to Jeff.

Jeff stood silently.

He just stood there watching the entire scenario. No facial expression.

The third guy was laughing. Seemed he was enjoying the show.

I said again, “Let Go!” and shook my right arm back and forth. And that was when the damn bastard threw me onto the ground.

At that point, I was at the peak of my anger. With all the things that I’ve been though, my body was filled the battle cells. I was ready to explode. I was, ready to fight back.

I glared at him. Stood up and with all my strength, I gave him a spinning side kick right at his thigh. (I didn’t went though 3 years of Tae Kwon Do for nothing!)

PAH!

The back of my foot had slammed against his right thigh.

He smirked.

With his two hands, he pushed me back onto the ground.

“Sissy!”

Was the last word that I heard, before the lunch bell rang.

The three of them turned and walked away, left me sitting on the ground.

(Okay, I admit it, I was a Tae Kwon Do dropped out…)

I got up and realized that I shouldn’t have kicked him.

Because:

1) Fighting is not the answer. I could have pretend that I got really hurt, gather all the witnessed, filled out a police report, then suit his A$$ off.

2) I should have used my nails, jump on him, pull his hair and scratch his eyes out.

No, what really went though my mind, was what my mom told me in the past, that I should never fight back with fists. Smart people fight with words. I should have report the entire situation to the Dean, and have that little bastard grounded, and sent home from school.

But to me, being sent home is more like a luxury. How do I know if his mom will punish him for what he did? Who knows, maybe his entire family are a bunch bastards.

From that day, I have made up my mind, that I will get back to him some day. (No one calls me a Sissy! No one!!! I’m a Princess!!! Not a Sissy!!!)

Be ware of us Capricorn, we ‘remember’ things. One of the greatest and scariest quality about Capricorn, is that we have really good patience. It is never too early or too late to ‘revenge.’

Ever since that incident, I started to drink milk. Lots of milk. At the same time, I have also enrolled myself at a local Karate Dojo. (I continued to drink milk until I reached the age of 18, when I found out that I'm Lactose Intolerant.)

It was during the 10th grade year, that I finally encountered the bastard again.

When I saw the bastard walking down the hallway, I showed no fear.

Because now I am stronger than yesterday, not it’s nothing but my way. My sissiness ain’t killing me no more. I am, I’m stronger~~ ooh hey, yeah~~~

Come on, now~~ Oh yeah ~~~

Here I go, on my own~ I don’t need nobody, better off alone~~
Here I go, on my own now~
I don’t need nobody, not anybody~~
Here I go, Here I go, Here I go, Here I go, alright~~~~~
Here I go, Here I go, Here I go, Here I go~~

'cause now I'm~
Stronger than yesterday~~
Now it's nothing but my way~~~
My loneliness ain’t killing me no more~~~
I'm, I'm stronger~~~

Ops, I got carried away.

Ahem. Anyway. Our eyes met. I was face-to-face with the bastard. I was walking in the center of the hallway. And so was he.

His eye brows moved a bit, after he recognized me. My eyes focused on his eye balls.

I eyed him up and down, and realized that he hasn’t grown at all. He was just as tall when he was in 7th grade. During the 3 years, I have gotten taller and mentally, I was more confident of myself.. The tip of his head barely touched my shoulder. He was really short.

The distance between us became shorter. I wasn’t going to move out of his way. Actually, I have been waiting for this moment for a very long time, and I was waiting for him to make the first move. (Always wait for the other person to make the first move, later on, you can point your finger and yelled “He did it first! He did it first!!”)

In my head, I had pictured numerous scenarios of what will happened.

I saw myself doing a high-kick and knocked him backwards, with bleeding nose. Screaming “Back at you, you bastard, from what you did to me!”

I saw myself giving him the four-finger eye strike with my left hand and then elbow his chest with my right, knocked him onto the floor, coughing, choking, and moaning in pain. “This is your lesson of life, NEVER mess with an Asian!”

I saw myself doing a round-house kick, with my ankle slamming against his ear, forced him back, and then give him a fierce jab at the lower stomach. “You so tough, huh? Like that?! Want more?!”

I saw myself grabbing his ears with my both of my hands, and slamming my right knee up his face several times. “Bastard! You Bastard!”

The closer we got, the more uncomfortable he appeared to be. I kept my eyes focused on him. Took a deep breath, I prepared my body for the combat of my life. Then all of the sudden, his eyes looked away from me, and stepped to the side.

I kept on walking forward, and he did the same.

Then he walked passed me.

He walked AROUND me.

I kept on marching forward, at the center of the hallway until I reached my Math class.

I had a grin on my face for the rest of the day.