Scent

Here is the deal. I have to wear a damn suit to work. Not just a regular suit. But it has to look pretty. I have to look pretty, just like others working on the same floor. We are considered the "Conference Room" people.

Always, we must look presentable.

Along with the suit, came with the dress shirt, and silky tie.

To match up my suit pants. I have to wear nice dress shoes.

So, my uniform for work is rather, formal.

But today, instead of wearing my usual dress shoes... I wore my 'dress boots.' They are just like a pair of dress shoes, with pointing tips, nice smooth black leather coating... The "Boot" area, is covered up by my pants.

I just love wearing boots. You never know when you will be stick your foot up someone's ass. There's nothing more fierce and hard than boots.

It has been a long and not-so-productive day. I didn't do as much as what I expected. Argh. But I needed a break.

So, I reach down, and pull my boot-zipper down... Gonna take my foot out to breath some fresh air.

I got my right foot out... then as I was freeing my left foot... I heard a woman walking by... Saying..."Hmmm! Something smells good!!"

I looked up. Saw her walking away. And then looked back down on my right foot.

I said to myself, "Uh, No. It's not."

The Lost Soul


What sign of the Black Zodiac are you?
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LOST SOUL - Uh, okay, I feel so much better now.

I don't consider myself a political person - and probably will never express my political point of view.
But THIS is pissing me off.

Well, not really pissed. Just kinda upset.

Jonathan, how are you?

I had many crushes through out the 25 years of my life. Well, they were more of a crush/lust kinda feeling.

Normally, when I find someone attractive on the street... I'd say to myself..."Wow, a hottie!"

Then after a couple of minutes.. I'd asked myself..."Uh, what did that guy look like?"

If, that's a crush, then I'd had 1,000,000,000+ crushes.

But, nope. I consider crush as something, or someone... that I remember. Even if it has been 3, 4, 5 or even more years since I last saw him. (Him, yes, I'm GAY, okay? If you haven't figure that out.)

I have read so many blogs this month... And to my surpass, most of them are very personal. Compare to their blog to mine, I want to dig a hole on the ground and bury my head in it.

I rarely share stories from my past - on a more personal level. (Well, at least, on the blog.) I believe the most and only entries that I wrote, where I totally got teary and stuff - is the one about my grandma.

Anyway, I have written enough INTROS. Now, I would like to share the story about one of my crushes from College. I mean, he's probably the biggest and most memorable crushes that I ever had.

He's name is Jonathan.

Jonathan is younger than me. A year or two. I'm not really sure. I met him in my 2nd year in college, where I switched my major from Computer Science to ICAM. (No, it's not chemistry) Basically, its a major for Multimedia Gurus.

The first class that we have to take, is PhotoShop. And believe me, after years of Zits-Be-Gone alterations I have done to my own photo, I went into the class destined to receive an A. My best friend, Danni, also took the class with me. (Danni, if you are reading this entry, you must remember Jonathan, right?)

I never really noticed Jonathan, I didn't even know he exists, until one day, the teaching assistant asked him to sit up in the front of the class. (He usually sit in the back, at some corner, where no one can see him listening to his walkman, while drawing some weird stuff on his notepad.) You must have figured, Jonathan is not the type of the student, who spent at least 85% of his brain cell in class. He only give the class 1% of the attention. Sometimes, he didn't even come to the class... Just what in the world do I see in this boy? He comes to the class only when he wants to, he dresses very sloppy, jeans and black shirt, sandals, listen to punk rock heavy metal music, got weird stickers all over his walk man, messy hair, and he probably smokes. I mean, was I really desperate or something?

Oh, let me give you a more clear description of this guy. He has dark Some-What Curly brown hair, dark BEAUTIFUL eyes (Yes, he's white), around 5'8" (Yes, shorter than me), and 32 - 33" waist...(Well maybe more, I wasn't sure. Danni said he is the "BIG" type.) *sigh* I wish I have a picture of him to show you how he looks. I know, you must be thinking..."Oh gawd, Wayne is into thugs." But, really, he's really good looking... At least, from my perspective. (Beauty is the in the eyes of the beholder.)

Jonathan! Baby! Gimme some THUG LUV!!

Ever since I started to notice his presence in the class. I have been secretly checking him out. During the class, during tutorials... During student Lap time... Always sit in front of the computer by himself... Doing whatever he's doing... With headphones on his head.

Gosh, he's really into music.

But the PhotoShop class was the only class I had with him. Because of his lack of attendance, he had to retake the class over.

During the next 3 years, I have seen Jonathan once in a while, here and there from distance. I really wanted to take a look at him, just a little longer, but was afraid people around me will saw me 'checking a guy out.'

Every single glance of Jonathan, made my heart skip a beat.

I like that guy. I really do.

I remember the day, I went to the school's Catering Services, where I used to work, to give my last farewell to the people that I worked with in the past two years. And of course, I went for the free lunch.

After a bunch of good-byes and hugs, I left the building.

Then the nightmare came.

My tummy was making weird noise... Followed by waves of pain...

"Crap. They poisoned me."

I got nervous and though that I can use the public restroom inside of the Visual Arts building.

I picked up speed, and started to walk.

On the way there, I saw Jonathan. Came out of the Visual Arts building.

He saw me.

I smiled and waved at him.

Then we walked toward each other.

Wayne: "Hi." (I put a smile on my face. Even though my tummy was killing me)

Jonathan: "Hi." (Oh gosh, Jonathan, so beautiful! So beautiful!)

Wayne: "I haven't seen you around lately. Are you still majoring in ICAM?" (And I felt my butt is about to burst)

Jonathan: "Yeah. I'm taking it slow. Skipped the last quarter." (I focused my eyes on his eyes... Didn't move an inch)

Wayne: "Oh, I see. No wonder. So, how have you been?" (Ah, my tummy, argh! I gotta held back!)

Jonathan: "Pretty good. And you?" (Damn, he has beautiful lips, I have never get to see him up so close!)

Wayne: "Oh, awesome. I'm graduating this Sunday... And going to move back home on Tuesday." (My butt got very sweaty. My butt cheeks were doing their best to keep the "opening" shut. Preventing the acid from bursting out)

Jonathan: "Congratulations." (And he smiled at me. I mean, he smiled at me!)

Wayne: "Thank you. I mean, I spent 5 years here already. I can finally get out of here." (The lower half of my body were trembling. Shaking. Non stop. I couldn't hold it any longer.)

Then where was a 3 seconds pause. We had our eyes focusing on each other.

Wayne: "Well...." (The cold sweats were rolling down the back of my head)

and I raised my right hand, about to do my usual hair flip... (I was trying to look casual and relaxed. You know, no one really knew how much pain and pressure I was enduring at that moment)

But my hand never made it to my hair.

When my right and was about 1/3 way to it's destination. I saw Jonathan also extended his hand... Wait, his arms. Both of them. Just a little. He's upper body also moved forward. As if, I was going to give him a hug, and he was going to hug me back.

Or maybe, he thought I was going to hug him.

But either way, I was drawn to him. My heart started to beat fast.

Then, for some reason, I raised my left hand. Did a "Praying" gesture.

Jonathan drew his arms back. His blinked a bit. And stepped back.

Wayne: "Well, good luck with rest of your school year. I must get going."

Jonathan: "Yeah, good luck."

And gave me a smile.

I nodded and gracefully walk passed him.

He walked pass me, to where ever he was going.

I turned my head and looked back. Watching the back of him disappearing in distance.

Then I held my butt with both of my hands, and rushed into the restroom.

Kicked the stall door open, place the toilet cover sheets over the toilet...

Ripped my pants open, pull them down.

And I sat down.

*Boom*

Uhhhh... Ahhh... Uhhh...

Instead of feeling relieved... I felt horribly sad.

"I will probably never going to see him again... Why did I mess it up? Why did I have to shit so bad? Why didn't I hug him? Why didn't I exchange email with him? Why?"

That 4 minutes with Jonathan, was really a bonding moment. I felt it myself. I'm sure he felt it too.

Even till today, when Jonathan came to mind, I would wonder, if I didn't held back at that moment, would we end up hugging? Or he was just going to shake my hand? What could have happened?

*sigh*

So, Jonathan, how are you? What have you been up to?

Do you still remember me?

Which [Rainbow Colours] are you?

It's Him! It's Him!

I saw THOMAS! It's THOMAS! I mean, I totally recognize this guy!!!

Ahem, I mean, yesterday, as usual, I hopped on the LIRR, the train back home. And guess who sat across from me?

THOMAS K.

Okay, you are probably thinking... "Who the heck is Thomas K?"

Well, Thomas is the straight guy that needed the make-over on Bravo's Queer Eye for the Straight Guy - Episode 103.



I mean, I totally recognize his hair, his eyes, his eyebrows, his nose, his lips and... uh, his hair.



Sadly to say, the Fab. Five's magic only worked for him on the day of the show - He has returned back to the original self now. At least, that is what he appeared to be on the train.

Anyway, I saw him. I got excited. I mean. he's not like, Hugh Jackman or anything, but he was on TV, and I got excited over that. (Excited. Not Horny!)

He was reading a book... Probably noticed that I (and maybe other people) recognize him from the TV Show... He kept his focus on the book.

I didn't want to keep my eyes on him all the time, I mean, he's not my type at all. But I can't. I mean, my eye balls just kept on swimming toward his direction... "Wow! Should I ask him for an autograph?!"

Then

I fell asleep.

By the time I woke up, he's gone, along with the cute guy that was sitting behind him. Thomas probably switched to another train at Jamaica station. (Actually, he has to. He lives in Long Beach - Yep, his location is listed on the Bravo website.)

Now I realized that its not that hard to 'bump' into someone on TV... I mean, after all, the show is shot in New York... That means, my Kyan Douglas stalking fantasy can become reality!!


Kyan, you are mine! Muhahahahahahahaahahhaahaha...


So, that was it. My excitement for Monday.

Paris 2003 – Chapter 9: Things you need to know

Things to remember if you are going to France:

1) The stores usually close around 7:00pm. Shop early!
2) A lot of restaurants close around 8:00pm. Eat early!
3) Ask your Hotel Staff for restaurant recommendation. Believe me, they know which restaurants are open, and menu suitable for visitors.
4) Before booking for a hotel/motel. Remember to check if they have Air Conditioner in the rooms.
5) Pickpockets. They are all over the place. Watch out if you are surrounded by a bunch of kids inside of the subway. You might want to grab onto your wallet tight.
6) If you are into shopping. Go during the month of April, July, August, and December. They don’t really have sales often. But when they do, its usually 50% off on everything. (Including the Gucci, Burberry, Parada – name brand stores)
7) If it is going to be a shopping spree trip, make sure you book your hotel near Gallerie de La Fayette. It’s the fashion/shopping central. Printemps usually have cheaper stuff.
8) SOLDES = Sales. (My sister is a shopping Queen. So, go figure)
9) There are pharmacies all over the place.
10) If you are a non-French resident. Remember, you can get your tax (up to 12%) back. Remember to ask the cashier on how to obtain the pre-tax form., and what you need to do at the airport.

The End

Fud place of the Day

Do you like hot dogs? I mean, I have always loved the hot dog stands in New York City. They are so yummy.

However, they are sorta expensive.

Some hot dog stands would sell the hot dog for $1.25 and some are $1.75. I seriously think those are a bit HIGH for a little hot dog.

Anyway, after months and days of walking and researching and eat around the areas near work, I finally found…

The ONE Dollah Hot Dog!!!!!!

At the corner of Pearl Street and Maiden Lane (Downtown New York) – There is this hot dog stand… And the hot dog only cost $1.00! What a deal!!

I mean, if I buy two hot dogs, I’d save 50 cents, and if I buy three hot dogs, I’d save 75 cents… If I buy four hot dogs, I’d save 1 dollar, which, I can use to buy another hot dog.

So, wanna guess what I had for lunch?







Cosi’s Signature Salad!!
(why? You think I had hot dog for lunch today? Heh Heh, I had it yesterday! Actually, 3 of them!!)

Paris 2003 - Chapter 8: Chateau of Versailles

We have everything all planned out. Versailles will be our last stop before heading back to New York. It’s about 1.30 hours of train ride, based on what the Hotel Manager said. It looked pretty far on the map as well. It located outside of the city of Paris.

Some quotes from the reviews at Castles of the World:

"Versailles - too beautiful to really describe. Many beautiful things set in beautiful rooms. The walls and ceilings would be wonderful to see even if there wasn't anything in them! You would really need to spend several days going through the whole place. The palace alone has many wonderful rooms to go through. Then the gardens with the fountains and statues is another great place to see. You really need to spend at least one day here!" - Sharon, 42, from Arkansas.

"Versailles, is a wonderful castle. It is beautiful and awe inspiring. But if you go to see it make sure that you schedule a lot of time to do so. It is large, and you won't want to miss anything. The fountains are great. It took so much water to run all of the fountains in Versailles that they only turned them on when the King went by. Now they run them one day a week. If you want to see them be sure to find out which day." - Katrina, 20, from Matlock Washington.

Chateau of Versailles, is definitely one of the must-see attractions in France.

But we over slept that morning. Didn’t wake up on time to catch the early train... So, we had lunch near the hotel, and then head straight to the airport for our departure.

Hint: Bring your own alarm clock!

The Moth and his Fire

Around 10:30pm, on a clear skied Friday night, a moth was wondering around alone.

Something shining, bright attracted his attention - it came from an apartment window.

The moth flew closer to the window and saw the source of the light.

"A Fireplace. A very handsome fireplace."

Suddenly, the moth had an urge of throwing himself against the light.

"I want this light. I want this light to cover my entire body."

"Only this light will give me joy and happiness."

The moth couldn't keep his eyes away from the fire.

"It's so... Beautiful" thought of the Moth.

Then he remembers a story that he heard from a fellow moth. The story about the Fire Dancer.

The moth now fears the fire.

The heat will burn his fur coat.

He might loose his wings, and even, his life.

This attraction is fatal. But the moth couldn't resist.

But just how long does a regular moth get to live in the world?

How many Days? Nights? Weeks? Months?

The moth started to think, he'd rather die in passion than old age.

The moth cannot control his desire anymore.

Life is too short.

He found his way into the house.

He flew pass the clothes hanger, the table, the chair...

He flew across the room toward the fireplace.

The light became brighter, as the temperature increases.

The moth feels the warmth.

"Yes, this is what I expected. So warm and tender."

"I need to get closer. I must."

The moth increased the paste of his swings and his body moved closer to the fire.

Then he saw dead bodies of his own kind.

On the ground, burnt.

"What the..." the moth landed on the ground.

"They are right. I will die."

The moth stood on the edge of the coffee table. Keeping a safe distance from the fire.

"This is not enough. I want more. I want all of it."

"If I can only get closer... without getting burnt..." mummer the moth.

The moth, started to wonder what he should do...




Story inspired by "The Death of the Moth" - Virginia Woolf.

Paris 2003 – Chapter 7: Peace and Love, No War



See the picture? Yeah, I didn’t put gel on my hair that morning, so, it was fluffy.
What else do you see? Pay close attention to my right arm.

Do you see a little tiny red sign? Yeah, that’s it. Yap. And what’s next to the little sign?

Oh, too small? Where, here is a ZOOMED IN version:



Okay, now you get it. It’s a dog having sex with a cat on a mini-bed. I mean, oops, not having sex. Those two were resting together, promoting Love and Peace. Cute, isn’t it? When that picture was taken, I had this urge of wanting to hug the dog and the cat and kiss them and smooch them and squeeze them into many many tiny little pieces. I mean, I love animals. I really do. And they were so adorable.

At least, the dog was wake. But the cat was laying there, motion less. The dog seemed more responsive to it’s environment. (I use “IT” – because I wasn’t sure if the dog is a boy or girl. I mean, they could have been a lesbian couple promoting Love and Peace… Or even, gay lovers. I never get to see their lower bodies…)

Actually, I wanted to hug and kiss and smooch and squeeze the dog into many little tiny pieces first, before I attack the cat..

Next to the “Bed-Room” set, stood an old man. (No, I didn’t want him.)



(Did you notice there’s a bird standing on top of the sign? Yap. The next act is about “menage a trois” --- that’s men-NAJE a TWAH --- Cat + Dog + Bird Action!) --- Thanks to Henry, for providing the correct spelling.

The old man was playing music… Singing along… People were tossing coins into the little basket… They are enjoying the cute scene. I know I was really enjoying it.

Wayne: “Wow, its hard to train the cat to lay still!”

Sister: “And you seriously think the old dude trained the cat?”

Wayne: “Yeah.”

Sister: “I think the old guy injected some drug into the cat, so it couldn’t move.”

Wayne: “Like how the dentist would numb my teeth before the surgery.”

Sister: “Pretty much. If I’m the old guy, I wouldn’t waste my time training the cat.”

Wayne: “You are right. But the drug is pretty expensive.”

Sister: “Well, then the cat’s bone must be all broken.”

Wayne: “Oh Crap!”

Sister: “The cat didn’t move, right? Eyes all closed.”

Wayne: “Damn, that evil old man.”

Sister: “Let’s go shopping.”

Wayne: “Okay.”

And we left the animals.

It reminded me of what I saw at Time Square during the month of May. Where my best friend Duckie came to visit.



We saw a street performer. Standing next to the Dog-Cat-Mice pile, holding an empty can.
The dog was on the bottom, cat in the middle, and on top of the cat, there were two mice.

Wayne: “Wow, Duck, did you see that? That’s amazing.”

Duck: “You really think those animals are trained?”

Wayne: “Why not?”

Duck: “What if the mice were dead?”

Wayne: “Uh, yeah… They didn’t move.”

Duck: “And the cat is probably glued on top of the dog. Even if both of them are alive, after hours of being glued together, they eventually will get used to it. No struggles, just sitting there waiting to die.”

Wayne: “That’s sad. I mean, that’s insane!”

Duck: “Let’s go.”

Wayne: “………..”

I’m not sure if Duck said was correct. But those animals didn’t move at all. Nothing. They were motionless… As if they were really sitting there, waiting for their boss to say…”CUT” before they can take a break.

Or even, they could have been just a pile of dead bodies, stacking on top of each other.

Oh gosh, why am I thinking about this? I mean, the animals were probably well trained and very smart… They were not dead… They were not dead… Wayne, think happy thoughts! Happy thoughts!!

Anyway, let’s move on to the next topic.

Ahem! I totally forgot to mention this… Riding in the subway in Paris was like, entering a gas chamber. It was not the heat that drove me crazy. I mean, almost in every single cart, you will bumped into someone with really strong body odor. I mean, really really really strong body odor. Actually, I was wrong. They are every where, not just in the subway. On the streets, in restaurants, pharmacies, on the bridge, coffee shops (yep, the waiter) and museums. My first impression was, how come no one uses those ROLL-Ons, which will stop the odor from leaking though the arm pit skin?!

It was not until later, from my co-worker, who just returned from her vacation in Spain, told me:

“Some Europeans usually don’t take showers. Maybe one shower every 3-5 days.”

OH MY GAWD.

Is that why?

Well, I ain’t got no love and peace for that one.

You are not even the slightest bit horny. Somehow,
you live a life completely free of confusion
caused by lustful desire. Props to you.


How Horny are YOU?
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And I have always thought I'm a beast in bed. Uh, this quiz is wrong, so wrong!!

You have no idea how bad I feel

Just this morning, like always, I gotta have myself a cup of Starbucks coffee.

Actually, I had two this morning.

I finished my first Venti size machiato while I was on the subway to work. Then, I decided to get myself another one, near work.

So, I went.

There was this huge long line waiting to pickup their order from the little tiny counter on the side.

And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Venti Iced Machiato!"

Finally, there it is. I quickly grab the cup and stab it with the venti-size straw.

But, I didn't realize how FULL my coffee was.

Right at the moment, where the straw hits the lid, drops of coffee spew upwards.

Instead of landing on my precious black suit, they landed on the arm of a man.

This man was standing next to me. Leaning on the little counter.

"OH, My gosh, I am so sorry!"

"I mean, really, I am so sorry!!"

I said to him, while looking at him straight in the eyes.

Then, in my mind, I heard:

"Wayne, you have to pay him for the dry clean."

"Yeah"

"So, give him the money"

"But how much?"

"Three dollars."

"Well, that's the rate at Sunny's Laundromat."

"You don't know the rate in Manhattan."

"So, five dollars?"

"Well, I think that's a bit too much."

"Three dollars should be fine."

"But I don't have small bills."

"So, what are you gonna do?"

Still looking at the man.

"I...."

Then this word came out of the man's mouth: "SHIT."

He turned his face away from me.

And, that's it.

"Sorry about the mess."

Then I walked out of Starbucks.

Seriously, I felt bad. I mean, I'm still feeling really bad as I'm typing this blog entry.

Big Boys Don't Cry: At least on the outside

Here is an interesting article written by Robert Naseef, Ph.D. That big boys don't cry. At least, on the outside.

As quoted:

As we approached school age, most of us were taught that "big boys don't cry."
To enforce that injunction, those who couldn't hold back the tears had to endure the humiliation of being called a "girl" or a "sissy" or a "fairy." But where do the tears go? Perhaps as my own father once observed, "we men just cry on the inside."

That is the same way I was brought up. Men are not suppose to cry. (Even though I don't mind being called a Fairy) But why is that? Are we suppose to be tough and buff. Physically and mentally, we can endure any pain, any attacks? Well, some men are must more emotional than others.

In a previous entry, I wrote about how I don't cry easily.

Well, I lied.

I brought a bag of orange today to work. (Late afternoon snacks)

Then, I got hungry. So, I pulled the bag out of my drawer.

I was trying to hide my orange from the people walking by me... So they will not think I'm slacking off. (AND I DON'T SHARE!) - Besides, my manager comes around my cubical very often... Since this is the month that my semi-annual performance appraisal is due, I don't want to get caught...

Believe me. I have heard stories about people who used to work in the same department, after getting extremely bad reviews on their performance, they left the company in tears. I'd never want something like that to happen to me.

So, I held one of the orange in front of me. Leaning my body close to the desk, so people cannot see what I'm holding from behind.

I thrust my index finger into the bottom of the orange, then pulled my finger down-wards while pressing my thumb against side of the orange. This allow me to grab a hold of piece of the orange skin.

So, having the orange skin tightly held in place by my fingers, I start to peel the orange.

Then I heard some foot steps.

Without stopping my peeling action, I turned my head.

Nothing. No one was behind me. The foot steps probably came from the other side of the cubical.

As I turn my head back, an extremely strong citrus scent rushed up against my nose.

Followed by sprinkles of citric acid spraying into my eyes...

Ahhh Ahhh~~ My Eyes~ My Eyes~~~

I leaned too close to the orange...

And yes. I cried.

Which League of Extraordinary Gentlemen character are you?
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Should I or Shouldn't I? Well, I did.

I recently read two entries about funerals and tradition. (From Patch and Bruce's Kitty Poo) I have wanted to, yet, decided not to comment or write anything about it. To me, funeral is a bit on the depressing for me to write. Even though I enjoy reading the entries, but I can't stop myself from remembering my most recent experience with funerals and death. (No, not my near-death experience, you dork, I never had any)

But I have changed my mind. (Yap, I have swinging mood) I want to write something about it. I want to write about tradition. Not necessary funerals.

**********

I don't remember how long ago as this, but I remember I was still living in San Diego, in a tiny room inside of my landlord's house.

It was either June or July, I don't remember. But that night, I was doing my usual routine, making Tea... That I received a phone call from my mom.

"Wayne"

"Hi Mom"

"I just got a call from your Aunt"

"Oh? What's wrong?"

"Grandma just passed away. 3 hours ago in Taiwan"

"How can this be possible?"

At that moment, I couldn't stop myself from crying. I have never cried so much before. Even when I got dumped by my ex-bfs, I have never cried. I didn't even dropped a single tear. But after hearing those words over the phone, I just couldn't held back my feelings. My body was all weaken, I sat down on the floor, sobbing, crying, mummer over the phone...

"It's too soon... I didn't even have the chance to see her... I didn't even have the chance to see her"

Earlier that year, I was planning to flight to Taiwan, and visit all my relatives there. I had a feeling, that I needed to visit my grandma, when I have the chance. But due to some family and financial issues, that I didn't go.

'Wayne, it is okay. Death is part of life. Grandma left peacefully."

Of course I understand that. I don't fear death at all. I never see death as something threatening... I was regretting that I didn't get to see my grandma when I have the chance.

"Wayne, I'm going to call your sister now. Okay?"

Tears continued to flood my face, as I put the phone back into its charger.

At age of 86, my grandma passed away peacefully on her bed. In her sleep.

My mom and dad flew to Taiwan for the funeral. From the pictures that they brought back, for the first time in many years, I saw my mom in tears. In the picture, everyone wore white linen cape and hood. Being the 2nd eldest child in the family, my mom and my dad sat on the 2nd row, right behind my big uncle. The picture shown my mom, looking down on the floor. As if she was afraid to raise her head to meet the faces of those who came to say goodbye to my grandma. She didn't want to loose control over her emotion, and expose her fragile side to those she has known from childhood. My dad, on the other hand, also looking down on the floor. But I knew he wasn't holding back the tears. He was afraid to catch "Bad Luck." My dad has always been a superstitious man. Years of reading and studying about Fung-Sui and superstitions, he was afraid of catching bad luck, and will lead to the down-fall of his business.

I cannot blame him for feeling this way. After all, he has been living all his life under the influence of superstition. It's part of him.
From what my mom told me, my dad didn't even want to wear the white linen cape. He even asked my mom if he can wait outside of the tent, and pray from a distance.

"Well, that's Dad alright. I'm not surprised."

**********

Two years ago, I went to Taiwan for a month. To take care of my dad, who was having a major surgery in Taipei. It was then, I finally get to visit my grandma's grave. Or should I say, the Urn that contains her remains.

Instead of individual grave or tomb, for my mom's family, they have a family burial plot. Well, it was more like a little tiny temple, sitting in the middle of grass land.

"This is the family grave." said my 2nd Uncle.

"This is where all my great grand relatives live" said my Aunt.

"And here is grandma." My aunt walked toward the entrance. But instead of opening the door to the little temple, she looked to the side.

There's a metal stand. Holding 3 urns on the top.

"Oh, someone died too, after Ah-Mei." My uncle points at the other Urn that was sitting next to my grandma.

"Never seen her before. Must be a far relative. At least your grandma is not waiting by herself."

"Waiting? What do you mean?"

"We can't put grandma in there yet. The time hasn't come."

"Inside of the tiny temple, you mean?"

"We cannot take grandma inside until the right time. Let me see... I think we need to wait 3 more month."

Apparently, inside of the little temple-like structure, sits many other Urns of the same blood line. Including my late grandpa.

I never really understand the whole Chinese Years, and when is the best time to bury the dead. There's always a specific day or time to do certain things.

I bend down, and look at my grandma's Urn.... Her picture is attached on the front.

In the picture, she was smiling.

"That's a good picture, huh? I took it for her couple years ago." Said my photographer uncle.

My body was trembling.

Then I saw my aunt, pulling out a piece of Kleenex, and star to wipe my grandma's picture clean.

"Ah-Mei yeah, Ah-Wei is back to see you now. See how much he has grown? Please look after him in the sky. Give him lots of success in his career and live a happy life."

My tear glands started to work its magic. Wetting the surface of my eye balls.

I watch my aunt carefully wipes the Urn clean, while my uncle started a fire inside of a metal bucket.

Controlling each breath that I take, I told my grandma, how sorry I am, for unable to attend her funeral. How sorry I am, that I didn't fly back to see her, 2 months prior her departure. And how much I have missed her.

"Ah-Po, please watch over us. Bless everyone in the family, and help us pull though any obstacles that we may encounter."

My cousin pulled out stacks of paper money. Looked like a bunch of cardboard papers, with gold square painted on the center.

"We gonna make your grandma a millionaire."

"Yeah, so she can buy herself new clothes, cars, or maybe a couple of houses."

We started to talk about what grandma can buy and what she can invest as we throw the paper money into the metal bucket.

After cleaning up the metal bucket, and gathered the food we placed on the alter back in our bags, we said goodbye to grandma and the two strangers sitting next to her.

**********

Now, thinking back, she is probably sitting next to my grandpa, inside of the little temple now.

Sometimes I wonder, did she get to use the money we burnt for investment? Or did grandpa took it all?

**********

Just before writing this entry, I brought back the memory of the entire experience from receiving the call from my mom, to my last visit to my grandma's Urn.

"I didn't even get to see her before she left. I didn't even get to see her.... I didn't..." Start to run inside of my head, as the tear rolls down my cheeks.

Memory is a powerful thing.



Ah-Mei: The nickname that my mom, uncle and aunt calls my grandma.
Ah-Wei: My nickname. Everyone in my family and relatives from my mom's side calls me that.
Ah-Po: Kinda like "Grandma" - The younger addresses their grandma from mother's side. Dad's mom would be "Na Na."

My Divas

Do you like Jennifer Lopez? What do you think of her?
Do you like Lil’ Kim? What do you think of her?
Christina Aguilera, what about her?
Britney Spears? Mariah Carey?
What about Whitney?

Let me guess, the firs thing that pops up in your head, is probably… “Bitch'in Skanky Hoes!” (Well, For Whitney, is probably “Queen of Pot”)

And you know what? I used to really hate them. Seriously. Especially for Mariah Carey and Christina. I used to think they are the sluttish hoe bags that I have ever seen in my entire life. - Not until I saw my self in the mirror in drag.

Haha, just kidding

My point is, those names that I listed, are names that I used to feel disgust with. Maybe its their skanky transformation or done something that's just totally wrong. For example, J'Lo, I used to DIG her, until that night she started a bitch fight at Donatella Versace's house with Madonna, I made her my #1 enemy. Then she stole my Ben, became so rich, and so sexy. Gosh, I'm so jealous!! Arrggh... OH wait, I mean. The thing is, no matter what she has become or how I used to hate her... I started to like her a lot. Seriously. Especially after watching VH1's Behind the Music. After seeing all the footage of her past works... Or clips where she worked as a night club dancer to make a living... She really did work hard to reach where she is today. (Work hard, Sleep hard, doesn't matter. As long is its hard)

I start to appreciate the hard work that each artists put in their effort. Christina has produced an incredible album. Even though I only like a few tracks on it, but the effort she made, turning herself away from the bubble-gum enriched pop culture. She really reached out and develop a style of her own. Doesn't matter how scary her makeup can be, or what kind of mess she got her hair into, her craft and her voice will always be genuine. (So, exactly how many hoes.... I mean, holes she has on her body?)

Same with Mariah. I mean, when I first saw her HONEY video, I was like..."Holy Crap, what a hoe bag!" - But you know what? The more I watch her perform, the more I can sense... That she is really happy with herself. I can sense a certain joy that she never had when she was still under the SONY label. She has released her inner (slutty) self... Produced more beautiful music... (ahem, anyone seen Glitter? --- I didn't)

Lil' Kim, I was never into Hip Pop music, or any hard core Rap... But "How Many Licks" really got a hold of me. Whenever I heard that music, I cannot help myself, but to grab onto the nearest pole and start dancing around/against it. I guess she made me feel awfully ghetto fabulous! Haha - That I mean is, underneath her clothes (uh, what clothes?) there is one talented raper that has been raving the hip pop scene since her debut. Some may find the lyrics offensive, some may find the image horrify, but I find her real. She's very real and serious about her craft. She's not afraid to speak up or do what she wants to do. She's not changing herself to fit the public eye. She's doing it all for herself. And her fans. (Yes, Lil' Kim, keep on exposing your bobbies to your 12 years old fan)

Oh, I think I wrote this entry with a bit of sarcasm... But you know what I mean. I really do love them. And I thank them for brining great music to my ears... And encourage me to be a skank as well.

As for Britney, well, the skankier the better. I'd like to see where she end up in the next couple of years.

Ah, what about Whitney? Oh, I didn't write much about her, didn't I? Well, she's losing her voice. What can I say. I just want to thank her for having the courage to release another album. And believe it or not, the album is REALLY good. (Just don't watch her live shows, her performance on Divas 2003 freaked me out.) Gurl, you have one god given awesome voice, you should have taken hella-good care of it.

My final thought is, I use to think that some of them got lucky... But I've never bother to see how much work they have done in the past, to reach what they are today. So I better start sleeping my way to the top.

I'll start with the janitor.

Lesson of the day: Learn to discover and appreciate things that are usually hidden behind the public eye.

Paris 2003 – Chapter 6: Notre Dame
So, we all know about the Notre Dame. Either from the older movie about a hunchback guy, the Disney animated cartoon, or the awesome musical. Norte Dame definitely has its charm and history. That is what drew us to visit this amazing structure, the cathedral, I mean.
Right in front of entrance of Cathedral Norte Damn, there is this huge court yard. People from all over the world gathered there. Relaxing, having lunch, enjoying the sun, or just people watching.
This statue was standing near the center of the court yard:


Yap, as you can see from the above picture, my focus was actually somewhere outside of the statue. There's a reason I didn't zoom in...(GRIN)
Above the entrance of the cathedral, lays the beautifully crafted – window. (Sorry, I’m not sure how to call that specific design of window) –


And here are pictures of the gargoyles around the cathedral.


And a close up:

I guess this gargoyle must be really tired, or very hungry. See that expression? Oh gosh, so painful…

And this one looks bored:


To be quite honest, I find the interior of Notre Dame very similar to St. Patricks in New York City. Well, Notre Damn has more statues… standing around the hall… each with stands of candles in front of them.


To my surprise, I found Ms. Joan of Arc among the statues.
My sister and I bought 3 candles, and placed them around the statues. (I placed mine at Joan of Arc, since she’s the only figure that I can identify)

We stayed at Notre Dame for about 35 minutes. Then we went back to shopping.

Eye Candy of the Day



To be really honest, when Ricky Martin first bursts into the US Pop scene. I really hated him. I never had once thought he was good looking for even, worth listening. After numerous replay of his song, and seeing his face all over the place... On TV, poster, post cards, shopping bags and gift wrappers... I was really sick of him.
Then all of the sudden, after the release of his second bombed English album, he disappeared.
I remember the very last time I saw him on TV, was VH1's "Ricky Martin, behind the music."
The funny thing about this episode, is where Ricky started to talk about his career and fame destroyed his LOVE relationship with Rebecca. (And nope, I don't remember her last name) But what is it so funny about it?
Ahem, the entire interview was planned. If you ever seen that episode, you will definitely see, that Ricky and Rebecca planned out how they are going to approach the interviewer's questions. I'm not even sure their interview are filmed separately. Everything matches. One responding to the other the same one. As if, they were reading off of a script. I'm sorry, Ricky, even though you have not confirm about your sexuality to public, but one thing I know for sure. You and Rebecca never had sex. I can see it in her eyes... She's your fag hag, admit it!.
But anyway, my point is. Ricky has released a new album. I start to see his picture here and there (well, not all over the place). And guess what? I found him extremely attractive. (Okay, I'm older now and have gotten more desperate) Now I LUST for him. Oh my gosh. Ricky baby, come come come!

Are you cute? Wanna have Free Sex?

Please don't get any wrong ideas. I'm writing this entry, mainly to help out a fellow blogger. Faustus, MD, who is the owner of the famous The Search for Love in Manhattan, is looking for sponsors for the Blogathon.

To learn more about Faustus, his blog, and what the heck that this is all about, please click here.

Note: There's an email link on his blog, where you can submit your photos to him, and see if you can earn a free pass to the "SEX BONUS."