This particular adventure takes place in Dubuque, Iowa.
My powerlifting team and I were on a trip to Dubuque for a powerlifting competition. It's one of the biggest of the year and I was going to help "handle" lifters. (handling a lifter is kinda like being a coach and manager at the same time)
The competition was cool. Lots of our guys and girls did well. So..... what to do after something like this? You go out and drink.
Since I am one of the more responsible characters on this excursion, I was put in charge of making sure no one got arrested. Well, there was that and there was the fact that I was the one with the rental car.
And away we go!
First stop, indian casino. This was no normal indian casino, oh no. The indian casinos that I have been to (in the bay area) are filled with decrepit, washed up, vile humans who sit at the slots with a cigarette in one hand and the other hand furiously hammering away at the stupid buttons. I wanted to tell these people that they would be more productive if they used that furious motion for handjobs. They would definitely make more money that way. These people have nothing better to do than spend their hard earned money on games designed to have you lose. Now, this casino was state of the art. Not only was it clean, poshy, and void of the previously mentioned scum, there was a really cool auditorium with a stage, stadium seating, and a huge bar. Me and 3 other guys from my team grabbed some drinks and sat at a table to shoot the shit and people watch. About 15 minutes into our drinks, 4 older women sit next to us. In our group, we had a 60 year old, whom I shall now refer to as Oldman, who took a particular liking to one of these mature cougars. Oldman worked his lyrical wordsmithing and managed to get them to sit and drink with us.
After chatting for an hour and listening to the live band on stage, Oldman and another guy decided to go dancing with 2 of the ladies. While this was going on, I happened to notice a group of people sitting in a booth right below us who just so happened to be at the powerlifting meet earlier that day. They were from Minnesota and came down to compete. Naturally, they joined up with us. Ok, so everyone is getting drunk, except for me, as I had the rental car and was in charge of watching these idiots. One of the girls from the Minnesota group asked, "hey, so what the fuck are we gonna do now?" The place was gonna close in 30 minutes and everyone was just getting started. Well, one of the mature cougars chimed in, "I know of this place in east Dubuque that would be perfect for a group like you guys". So, we went.
You ever hear of East Oakland, East Palo Alto, East dangerville? Yeah, East Dubuque was no different. We drove through a run down industrial area and I mean this place looked like shit. The whole time, I was thinking to myself, "these fucking old broads are gonna rob then kill us". We eventually made it to the area they were talking about. I shit you not, amongst all the filth and grime, there was this street, 2 blocks long, that had nothing but bars and strip clubs.
Our group of about 12 broke into 2 groups. The cougars, Oldman and I went to a bar to hang out. The 3 other guys from my team along with the Minnesota group went to a strip club across the street. About 30 minutes after we got in the bar, I decided it was time to go and check on the boys across the street. Boy, that was a mistake. They were ass deep in ugly strippers. Seriously, they were busted up. They all had stretch marks from having kids and I'm pretty sure one was pregnant. What do you expect from a 3 dollar cover? Anyways, the guys and the Minnesota group were sitting at the stage and watching the strippers. I went over to the guys and asked how they were doing. They all said they were doin fine. I was just about to leave, when I noticed that one of the guys totally stuck his tongue out while a stripper was air humping in front of him. Now this isn't bad in itself, except that he eventually tongue punched her butthole. I almost threw up as I left in absolute horror. We still give that guy shit for doing that.
So, I head back to the bar. It had been drizzling outside, so the floor was kinda wet. I get to the bar and right on the steps, there were these guys trying to get in. I guess the bouncer didn't like how they looked and told them they couldn't get in. Well, the situation kinda escalated until one of the guys on the steps took a small step back.... he slipped and totally ate shit. Needless to say, they left. When I got back in, I realized that they had started charging 3 dollar cover. 3 dollar cover? What the hell is that? Why 3? When I met up with Oldman and the cougars, I asked one the ladies what the cover was all about. She said, and I quote, "Oh, the 3 dollar cover helps keep the bad black people out." Yep, she said that. SIDEBAR (I didn't know at the time, but she was one of those unintentional racists. I found out later that when I was at the strip club, one of the cougars asked, "hey Oldman, where is that oriental friend of yours?" hahahah, stupid Iowa broads.) I asked the cougar where Oldman was. She pointed me in his direction. I found him. Boy oh boy did I find him. He had his tongue half way down her throat and he was totally sporting wood. I pointed and laughed at him to which he said, "who fuckin cares? I'm old and she's hot" At about 3am, I decided it was time for me to head back to the hotel. I asked Oldman if he wanted a ride back. He said he'd get a ride with the cougars. I went to the strip club to and asked if any of them wanted to go back to the hotel. 2 of them came with me. The other 2 stayed. I know I was in charge of watching them, but holy shit, I'm not their daddy. So I left.
I found out the next morning, how the rest of the night went. The 2 guys went with Oldman and the cougars to one of their homes. They hung out for a bit and had a few more drinks. Oldman got a ride from the cougar he was mackin on back to the hotel. The 2 guys were kinda stuck because the other cougars couldn't drive at that point. So, one of the ladies called a cab. She called a cab driver who she apparently was friends with. The cabbie arrived and my guys had no cash on them, the driver didn't accept cards....the lady didn't have cash on her either but she resolved the problem by saying this, "Oh Daryl, just give these guys a ride home, I'll give you a blowjob later." Hahahahahahahahahahh
Well, we all made it home and while I was kinda grossed out by the whole thing, I was definitely entertained. Sometimes, not drinking can suck, but other times, you have the chance to be completely aware and remember all the fucked up shit your friends do while drunk.
Lesson that was learned? Stay away from East Dubuque.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
My Cross Country Trip
I got a call from my roommate (JB) at the time (about 3 years ago) and he had a proposition for me. He wanted to know if I would be willing to drive a moving truck cross country for some money.
My first question was, how much?
JB replied, "a few hundred dollars. Oh, and all of our food will be taken care of as well as a hotel in NY for one night plus airfare back".
My next question was, how long?
JB replied, "we need to do it in about 3 days".
HOLY SHIT! Was all I could muster.
It took some convincing, but I was soon on board.
We picked up the moving truck near the Oakland airport. Now, this was no regular u-haul type box truck. It was a freakin huge Penske moving truck. Almost as big as an 18-wheeler. I gave my friend a look and said, "uhhh, dude.... I have never driven anything this big before and I don't really feel comfortable driving this truck through metropolitan areas."
He told me not to worry and that he would drive the first shift.
So, we left Oakland around 4pm and hopped onto I80 eastbound. Somewhere in Nevada around 11pm or so, we stopped to get gas. This was where I was supposed to switch with JB and drive the next shift. Not only did I still feel uncomfortable driving the thing, I felt even more nervous trying to do it at night. So, JB agreed to drive it some more. (I found out that he was pretty pissed by my act of cowardice. We laughed about it later.) We make it halfway through Utah and it's my turn to drive. It was early morning and the roads were clear of traffic. This would be my time to shine. I drove that thing like it was my corolla. Slow and steady. Well, there wasn't much I could do since the truck had a speed regulator on it set to 70mph. 24 hours of non-stop driving after we left Oakland, we stopped at North Platte, Nebraska. On a map, North Platte is basically half way across the U.S.
We got some dinner, then stayed in some motel for the night. 5 hours of sleep later, we were on the road again.
Most of the trip was pretty boring.... lots of flat lands, corn, blah blah. Things started to get interesting in Iowa. JB and I were cruising on I80 and I happened to notice a sign for a gas station. I could not believe what I saw. The name on the sign read, "KUM and GO"
You could only imagine our excitement at this sign. I know it's juvenile, but we had been driving for a looooong time and after so many hours, you tend to run out of things to talk about. We welcomed this distraction and stopped off at the next available Kum and GO.
Our routine, when we stop, is that the driver gets to take a piss while the navigator fills the tank. Then we switch. While JB was in the lavatory, I took inventory of the patrons at this store. Lots of white people. No duh, we are in Iowa. After a while, I started to notice that every single one of the people were looking at me. At first, I was thinking, "Is my zipper down? Do I have a huge booger on my face?" Then it hit me, these people have probably never seen an Asian person standing so close to them, let alone a 6ft, 245lb one. I carried on with the re-fueling but thought to myself how great it would be if I shouted out to them, "yep, I'm Asian.... the west is growin us big out there!"
JB comes waltzing out of the store with the biggest grin on his face. I asked him what's up and he simply said, "Dude... they have shirts and hats emblazoned with the words KUM and GO, we go all out, on them. You HAVE to buy one!"
I walked in, and sure as shit, there they were. I bought 2 shirts and 2 hats. Yes, I am legit.
So we are still on day 2 of our trip and keep on with the driving. Indiana was nice. Lots of green vegetation and stuff. Ohio was cool too, there were parts that were so green and lush, I couldn't believe such places existed. The funny thing I noticed about Ohio were the speed limit signs. There would be one sign that listed the max speed during the day and another that would list the max speed during night. I couldn't understand why they would need varying speeds for day or night as there was no one on the road anyways.
Things were good going through Ohio, nothing really interesting to report. We drove until about midnight or so and thought it would be alright to get a hotel and sleep for a few hours, then make the final push for New York early in the morning. We are pretty close to the Ohio/Pennsylvania border and stop off at a hotel. All the rooms were booked. We drive a little further to another hotel, same thing, no vacancy. We drive to a 3rd hotel in Ohio and we get the same response. We are pretty pissed off now and ask the attendant what the fuck is going on. He says that there's a cheerleading convention going on and that's why all the rooms are booked. Great. So, we hopped back in the truck and drove about 20 miles into Pennsylvania hoping that it would be far enough from the stupid ass cheerleading thing so we could sleep. Success! We sleep for a few hours and get back on the road.
We drive through Pennsylvania and experience more of the same boring drive. That is, until we got to Pittsburgh. JB and I were tired and the truck needed some gas. We pulled over on the next off-ramp and drove into some gas station called the "Flying J". I would later come to the realization that the "J" in Flying J stands for jerkoffs. This gas station was different than all the other stations we had been to. We were driving a truck that needed diesel. Up to this point, every time we pulled in for gas, the pump would be on the same side as the tank. The way the Flying J set up their station, there was only 1 way to approach the gas pumps and this made it so the pump was on the other side of the truck. Well, there was another pump tank side, but it had no handles or obvious switches. We sat there for a bit and tried to figure it out. Eventually, I walked into the store and asked the clerk a simple question, "how do you use the pump? The pump is not on the same side as the tank and I don't know what that other pump is for." The clerk said she would send someone out to help us.
JB and I waited for a few minutes and then the help arrived. The following is no exaggeration. She was about 5' 4" tall, probably 180lbs or so, grey hair, glasses, and several teeth were missing. I thought to myself, "fucking fuck. we are fucked."
"So, what seems to be the problem here?" Was her question.
I explained to her the situation and after pondering what I was pondering like Pinky, she said, "Well, honestly, I don't know too much about these here gas pumps."
At this exact moment, JB shot a menacing glare at me, then at her and said, "dude, get our fucking credit card. We are out of here." I ran into the store, asked for the card, and got the hell out of there.
We drove down the street to another gas station, a smaller one and sonofabitch, the set up was the same. I reluctantly walked into the store and explained to the clerk the situation and asked her if she would be able to help me get gas. This lady was actually kinda smart. She told me that the main pump that was not on the tank side needs to be turned on. Then, I could walk over to the other pump and use that to fill the tank. It seems that 18 wheelers have two tanks and this is what that is for. HUZZZAH!!!! We filled the tank and drove off. JB, who just so happens to have grown up in Pennsylvania, apologized to me for the stupidity of his people. We talked about the beastly woman at the Flying J for about a half hour after leaving.
My first question was, how much?
JB replied, "a few hundred dollars. Oh, and all of our food will be taken care of as well as a hotel in NY for one night plus airfare back".
My next question was, how long?
JB replied, "we need to do it in about 3 days".
HOLY SHIT! Was all I could muster.
It took some convincing, but I was soon on board.
We picked up the moving truck near the Oakland airport. Now, this was no regular u-haul type box truck. It was a freakin huge Penske moving truck. Almost as big as an 18-wheeler. I gave my friend a look and said, "uhhh, dude.... I have never driven anything this big before and I don't really feel comfortable driving this truck through metropolitan areas."
He told me not to worry and that he would drive the first shift.
So, we left Oakland around 4pm and hopped onto I80 eastbound. Somewhere in Nevada around 11pm or so, we stopped to get gas. This was where I was supposed to switch with JB and drive the next shift. Not only did I still feel uncomfortable driving the thing, I felt even more nervous trying to do it at night. So, JB agreed to drive it some more. (I found out that he was pretty pissed by my act of cowardice. We laughed about it later.) We make it halfway through Utah and it's my turn to drive. It was early morning and the roads were clear of traffic. This would be my time to shine. I drove that thing like it was my corolla. Slow and steady. Well, there wasn't much I could do since the truck had a speed regulator on it set to 70mph. 24 hours of non-stop driving after we left Oakland, we stopped at North Platte, Nebraska. On a map, North Platte is basically half way across the U.S.
We got some dinner, then stayed in some motel for the night. 5 hours of sleep later, we were on the road again.
Most of the trip was pretty boring.... lots of flat lands, corn, blah blah. Things started to get interesting in Iowa. JB and I were cruising on I80 and I happened to notice a sign for a gas station. I could not believe what I saw. The name on the sign read, "KUM and GO"
You could only imagine our excitement at this sign. I know it's juvenile, but we had been driving for a looooong time and after so many hours, you tend to run out of things to talk about. We welcomed this distraction and stopped off at the next available Kum and GO.
Our routine, when we stop, is that the driver gets to take a piss while the navigator fills the tank. Then we switch. While JB was in the lavatory, I took inventory of the patrons at this store. Lots of white people. No duh, we are in Iowa. After a while, I started to notice that every single one of the people were looking at me. At first, I was thinking, "Is my zipper down? Do I have a huge booger on my face?" Then it hit me, these people have probably never seen an Asian person standing so close to them, let alone a 6ft, 245lb one. I carried on with the re-fueling but thought to myself how great it would be if I shouted out to them, "yep, I'm Asian.... the west is growin us big out there!"
JB comes waltzing out of the store with the biggest grin on his face. I asked him what's up and he simply said, "Dude... they have shirts and hats emblazoned with the words KUM and GO, we go all out, on them. You HAVE to buy one!"
I walked in, and sure as shit, there they were. I bought 2 shirts and 2 hats. Yes, I am legit.
So we are still on day 2 of our trip and keep on with the driving. Indiana was nice. Lots of green vegetation and stuff. Ohio was cool too, there were parts that were so green and lush, I couldn't believe such places existed. The funny thing I noticed about Ohio were the speed limit signs. There would be one sign that listed the max speed during the day and another that would list the max speed during night. I couldn't understand why they would need varying speeds for day or night as there was no one on the road anyways.
Things were good going through Ohio, nothing really interesting to report. We drove until about midnight or so and thought it would be alright to get a hotel and sleep for a few hours, then make the final push for New York early in the morning. We are pretty close to the Ohio/Pennsylvania border and stop off at a hotel. All the rooms were booked. We drive a little further to another hotel, same thing, no vacancy. We drive to a 3rd hotel in Ohio and we get the same response. We are pretty pissed off now and ask the attendant what the fuck is going on. He says that there's a cheerleading convention going on and that's why all the rooms are booked. Great. So, we hopped back in the truck and drove about 20 miles into Pennsylvania hoping that it would be far enough from the stupid ass cheerleading thing so we could sleep. Success! We sleep for a few hours and get back on the road.
We drive through Pennsylvania and experience more of the same boring drive. That is, until we got to Pittsburgh. JB and I were tired and the truck needed some gas. We pulled over on the next off-ramp and drove into some gas station called the "Flying J". I would later come to the realization that the "J" in Flying J stands for jerkoffs. This gas station was different than all the other stations we had been to. We were driving a truck that needed diesel. Up to this point, every time we pulled in for gas, the pump would be on the same side as the tank. The way the Flying J set up their station, there was only 1 way to approach the gas pumps and this made it so the pump was on the other side of the truck. Well, there was another pump tank side, but it had no handles or obvious switches. We sat there for a bit and tried to figure it out. Eventually, I walked into the store and asked the clerk a simple question, "how do you use the pump? The pump is not on the same side as the tank and I don't know what that other pump is for." The clerk said she would send someone out to help us.
JB and I waited for a few minutes and then the help arrived. The following is no exaggeration. She was about 5' 4" tall, probably 180lbs or so, grey hair, glasses, and several teeth were missing. I thought to myself, "fucking fuck. we are fucked."
"So, what seems to be the problem here?" Was her question.
I explained to her the situation and after pondering what I was pondering like Pinky, she said, "Well, honestly, I don't know too much about these here gas pumps."
At this exact moment, JB shot a menacing glare at me, then at her and said, "dude, get our fucking credit card. We are out of here." I ran into the store, asked for the card, and got the hell out of there.
We drove down the street to another gas station, a smaller one and sonofabitch, the set up was the same. I reluctantly walked into the store and explained to the clerk the situation and asked her if she would be able to help me get gas. This lady was actually kinda smart. She told me that the main pump that was not on the tank side needs to be turned on. Then, I could walk over to the other pump and use that to fill the tank. It seems that 18 wheelers have two tanks and this is what that is for. HUZZZAH!!!! We filled the tank and drove off. JB, who just so happens to have grown up in Pennsylvania, apologized to me for the stupidity of his people. We talked about the beastly woman at the Flying J for about a half hour after leaving.
Things were going smooth for the rest of Pennsylvania and an interesting thing happened when we stopped somewhere in New Jersey to get gas. I was sitting in the driver seat and as I was getting out of the truck (backing out) I felt a presence behind me. An attendant appeared out of no where and stood only inches from my face. I was in shock. What the fuck? Oh man, I'm about to get into a fight right now. Turns out, the guy was making sure that I didn't pump the gas. There's some law that prevents me from pumping my own gas. Go figure.
And on to the Big Apple.... We get to the Lincoln tunnel, our last roadblock to getting into NY. We are sittin in the truck waiting for change from the toll booth. Then I notice a NY highway patrolman step in front of our truck, wave his hand, and motion for me to step out of the vehicle. It was at this moment I briefly thought, "holy shit, I never actually saw what we were hauling.... oh fuck." The cop was pretty nice and asked how we were doing. I told him that we drove from California to help a friend move some stuff.
Then the question: California? That's a long drive, you guys must be tired...
Then my stupid ass reply: Yea, tell me about it, we did it in 2 and a half days.
That was probably not the answer he was looking for. He took a step back, kinda eyed me up and down and asked, "2 and a half days, eh?" "Sir, I need you to open the truck."
FUCK!
I open the truck up and half expect to find some 15 or so illegal asians chillin in there..... Alas, it is just furniture and clothes. He shines his flashlight in there for a good minute or two and says, "alright boys, you guys drive safe"
I get back into the truck and JB asked, "dude, what the fuck happened?" I told him about how I said we drove here in 2.5 days and that was when the cop asked to see the the back. He had this astonished look on his face like "why the hell would you say something like that?" I just said, dude, I'm tired, I smell like shit, and I'm hungry. Let's go.
We drove into NY.
Unfortunately for us we had bad directions. So, instead of us making a left after the tunnel and staying on a non-busy street to get to the parking structure, we made a right and headed downtown. All the things you hear about NY drivers are true. We ended up becoming the biggest asshole drivers on the face of the planet. I was yelling "fuck you" and flipping off everyone in our way so we could get back to where we needed. Those son of a bitches were giving us such a hard time.
Well, we eventually made it to the parking lot. We parked and headed to our hotel rooms to shower up and get some sleep.
JB and I reconnected the next morning. We then helped his friend move the stuff out of the truck into their store in Soho. Afterwards, we showered, had an awesome lunch and then flew back..............
The flight back was full. Jesse and I were already seated (he had the aisle seat and I had the window). At this particular juncture, I would like to remind you fellow readers that Jesse was weighing around 300lbs at the time, I weighed about 240... so as you can imagine, that poor middle seat didn't have much room on either side of it. Well, people were boarding and no one sat in that seat. Every seat filled up except for that one and one seat a few rows up from us. For a few minutes after everyone was seated, we thought to ourselves, "holy shit, we got some primo leg room!"
Then HE walked in. He was about 60 years old, 6' 2", and had to have weighed damn near 250lbs (a fat 250, so he was sloppy). JB and I looked at each other and thought, "oh fuck, I hope this asshole sits in that other empty seat." Our hearts sank as he passed that row.
Bad, I know... it gets worse. When the guy sat down, we soon realized that he smelled of alcohol and piss. No, seriously, he smelled like a god damn drunken college kid who passed out on the street and then had a dozen or so bums piss on him. The worst part of all this was that since he was so fat, he was touching both of us. I was absolutely pissed off. I started blurting out curse words, "shit! fuck! goddammit!" JB had enough and politely asked one of the flight attendants to reseat the gentleman because we were so uncomfortable sitting like this. We pointed out the fact that the other row with an empty seat had two smaller women sitting on either side. The flight attendant looked at how pathetic we looked and asked the man to move.
FREEDOM!
We watched as he moved his drunk, piss smelling heap of a body up to that row. We watched him sit down. And then after about 5 seconds, we both got the nastiest looks from those two women. Seriously, you know that saying, "if looks could kill?" Yeah, they wanted us to burn in hell. After they stopped the icy stare, JB and I turned to each other and instantly high fived.
Of course, we talked about the guy for a good period of time. We reminisced about how he smelled so bad and what the hell could have happened for him to be in such a fucked up condition. What we didn't realize was that his wife was sitting in the row right next to us. She was sitting in the aisle seat. So, she most likely heard all the shit we were saying.
Oh well. We de-boarded the plane in SF and went home.
All in all, I would say that was an awesome trip.
The Asian Murphy's Law
Yes, I said it. There is someone I know (his identity shall not be revealed here) who has the uncanny ability for inopportune moments.
There are several that come to mind and yet I'm sure there are hundreds more that I am not aware of.
I will highlight the 3 moments that I have either heard or seen first hand.
Inauspicious moment #1
This guy woke up one morning after a night of drinking next to a dumpster at some Berkeley high school with a cheeseburger in each hand. He doesn't remember if the burgers were partially eaten or not and I do not recall if he ended up eating said burgers upon waking.
Inauspicious moment #2
Guy goes to southern california for the 4th of july. Guy and friends decide that they want to see the fireworks display that Disneyland is putting forth. Guy and friends do not want to pay for entry into said Disneyland in order to view the explosive aerial artwork so instead break into a nearby hotel pool area in order to partake. In his joyous excitement in discovering an area from which to watch the fireworks, at no fee, he decides to run, full bore, and jump into the pool. Upon jumping into the 5ft pool of water, he breaks his foot. On top of all this, he forgot about his wallet and cell phone in his pockets.
Surely, this guy was drunk, right? He had to have had a handle of some 80 proof liquor.... NOPE! He was completely sober.
Inauspicious moment #3
Now I will refer to him as intern as he is a brand spankin new intern that works at my company, Sangamo Biosciences. Intern is having a nice and quiet lunch with me and several co-workers and other interns in the kitchen. I communicate to him how cool it is to be blogging and how someday I aspire to be as prolific a blogger as the famous Tucker Max.
(if you don't know who Tucker Max is, I dare you to check his site http://www.tuckermax.com/stories.phtml and read the tucker max tries buttsex story. that is the story being referenced in this moment)
Upon hearing the words Tucker Max, the intern's eyes turn into saucers and I can see his brain instantly thinking of the buttsex story. I kinda make very subtle yet non descript references to the story and we both laugh. Then it happens..... the intern cannot hold it in any longer. He shouts a famous line from the story, "DID YOU JUST SHIT, ON MY DICK!?"
Ok, now all would be fine and dandy, in most cases. The co-workers and interns chillaxin in the kitchen are young and not really disturbed by hearing this. The PROBLEM was that a Scientist/Team Leader just happened to walk into the kitchen area right as the intern blurted out the phrase.
I have experienced many awkward silences in my life, from calling a stripper fat in a drunken stupor at the top of my lungs right when the music goes soft, to yelling in a quiet wine bar at the top of my lungs in order to find someone I know, while thinking the whole time that the wine bar was a club.
This moment almost trumps those.
So you see, he is the Asian Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, has.
Holy shit.
There are several that come to mind and yet I'm sure there are hundreds more that I am not aware of.
I will highlight the 3 moments that I have either heard or seen first hand.
Inauspicious moment #1
This guy woke up one morning after a night of drinking next to a dumpster at some Berkeley high school with a cheeseburger in each hand. He doesn't remember if the burgers were partially eaten or not and I do not recall if he ended up eating said burgers upon waking.
Inauspicious moment #2
Guy goes to southern california for the 4th of july. Guy and friends decide that they want to see the fireworks display that Disneyland is putting forth. Guy and friends do not want to pay for entry into said Disneyland in order to view the explosive aerial artwork so instead break into a nearby hotel pool area in order to partake. In his joyous excitement in discovering an area from which to watch the fireworks, at no fee, he decides to run, full bore, and jump into the pool. Upon jumping into the 5ft pool of water, he breaks his foot. On top of all this, he forgot about his wallet and cell phone in his pockets.
Surely, this guy was drunk, right? He had to have had a handle of some 80 proof liquor.... NOPE! He was completely sober.
Inauspicious moment #3
Now I will refer to him as intern as he is a brand spankin new intern that works at my company, Sangamo Biosciences. Intern is having a nice and quiet lunch with me and several co-workers and other interns in the kitchen. I communicate to him how cool it is to be blogging and how someday I aspire to be as prolific a blogger as the famous Tucker Max.
(if you don't know who Tucker Max is, I dare you to check his site http://www.tuckermax.com/stories.phtml and read the tucker max tries buttsex story. that is the story being referenced in this moment)
Upon hearing the words Tucker Max, the intern's eyes turn into saucers and I can see his brain instantly thinking of the buttsex story. I kinda make very subtle yet non descript references to the story and we both laugh. Then it happens..... the intern cannot hold it in any longer. He shouts a famous line from the story, "DID YOU JUST SHIT, ON MY DICK!?"
Ok, now all would be fine and dandy, in most cases. The co-workers and interns chillaxin in the kitchen are young and not really disturbed by hearing this. The PROBLEM was that a Scientist/Team Leader just happened to walk into the kitchen area right as the intern blurted out the phrase.
I have experienced many awkward silences in my life, from calling a stripper fat in a drunken stupor at the top of my lungs right when the music goes soft, to yelling in a quiet wine bar at the top of my lungs in order to find someone I know, while thinking the whole time that the wine bar was a club.
This moment almost trumps those.
So you see, he is the Asian Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, has.
Holy shit.
Monday, July 27, 2009
A little bit about myself
The following is a little background information on yours truly.
Some of you reading this may know all of this stuff already, others may only know a few things and may or may not be pleasantly suprised by some of the new stuff, others may know absolutely nothing about me, and there are some who just don't give a damn.
I'm gonna cover my life from inception to last day in high school.
I was born on January 12 1979 in Monterey, California. Apparently, I really wanted to come out and as a result, my mother didn't have time to go to the pre-planned hospital. I believe my aunt drove her to the nearest hospital and told them that she was ready to go. Lo and behold, the hospital they went to had stopped delivering babies a few years ago. I was in no mood to stay in her stomach any longer, so the hospital "grew a pair" and delivered me. I was in the local newspaper the next day.
Fast forward a few years later.... my parents accepted a business opportunity in Newman, Ca that they could not refuse, and moved us there (by us, meaning me, my sister, and my parents).
Where is Newman Ca? Google it. As a matter of fact, if you google 910 merced st, newman Ca you will see two businesses side by side: Newman Food Store and Kenneth's Coin Laundry. My parents own both. Yes, they named a laundromat after me.
Anyways, Newman, Ca.... what a quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. Hot as hell during the summer and cold during the winter. Know what else? We were the ONLY asian family there. I soon started pre-school which was cool and everything. I mean, kids ate paste and we basically ran around all day.
Then kindergarten (which is where the whole gremlin halloween costume fiasco happened), fast forward to 2nd grade where half way through the year, my dad decides to have the school give me an I.Q. test. I scored a 148 and was told that the next day I would be finishing the year as a 3rd grader.
3rd grade was pretty boring. I got my ass kicked once during recess. I didn't even do anything. I guess being the nerdy asian kid was reason enough? Whatever, the guy is probably either in jail, working at the local grocery store, or dead.
4th grade was pretty cool. I had discovered by accident that I could spell really well. We had a class competition, which I won. Then a school competition (rest of the 4th and 5th graders) which I won and then set me up for the district spelling bee. I told my dad that I was supposed to go to the local town center and compete in this thing. We did some practicing and proceeded to the town center. I ended up placing 2nd. The word I lost on? Commercial. Yeah, I spelled it with one m. I tell you what, after that debacle, my dad took a huge vested interest as I was to represent Newman California in the county spelling bee (1st and 2nd place finishers advanced).
We went through a ton of practice lists and a dictionary (abridged, thank god). Went to the bee and kicked little kid ass. Winning word? PLATELET.
So now it was on. I was to compete at the state level. Things got worse, way worse. My dad bought a freakin unabridged dictionary and we started with A and finished the damn thing. Well, we went to the state bee (held in Luther Burbank Center) and I again kicked little kid ass. Winning word here? Well, there were two because it was a tie between me and some other kid. We had to wait until one missed a word, which was MENISCUS for him. I spelled it correctly and then had to spell GLYPH. It was done. I went home. Did the local celebrity thing, spelled words that random people would ask me, including that stupid fucking word "supercalafragalisticexpealidotious" I don't think that's even a real word.
Fast forward a few more years to the summer after my 7th grade year. My pops decides it would be a good idea for me to do something constructive during the summer. It just so happens that he was holding a pamphlet for the local junior college in his hands. So I enrolled in an English course that summer. Stupid class started at 7am. I had to be up at 5:30 to eat breakfast and then drive the half hour or so to the stupid school. I can't tell you how many times I fell asleep during the lecture. Once, I noticed it was really quiet all of a sudden. I soon realized that the entire class stopped to watch me sleep. Good times.
Well, for the next several years, I took classes at night and during the summer until one day my sophmore year, an idea struck. I went to the High school principal and asked if I could substitute those JC classes I took for my junior year and graduate in 3 years instead of 4. They had no problem with it, so I had no problem with it. Honestly, I couldn't leave Newman any faster.
Let's see... anything interesting happen in High school? Meh, not really. I almost got trash canned once. I had a few crushes here and there and got rejected. But then again, who was going to go out with a chubby/nerdy asian guy who couldn't even go out after school anyways?
So, in May or June (I don't remember) of 1995, I left Newman, California and was headed to UC Berkeley as a stupid, yet excited 16 year old.
Some of you reading this may know all of this stuff already, others may only know a few things and may or may not be pleasantly suprised by some of the new stuff, others may know absolutely nothing about me, and there are some who just don't give a damn.
I'm gonna cover my life from inception to last day in high school.
I was born on January 12 1979 in Monterey, California. Apparently, I really wanted to come out and as a result, my mother didn't have time to go to the pre-planned hospital. I believe my aunt drove her to the nearest hospital and told them that she was ready to go. Lo and behold, the hospital they went to had stopped delivering babies a few years ago. I was in no mood to stay in her stomach any longer, so the hospital "grew a pair" and delivered me. I was in the local newspaper the next day.
Fast forward a few years later.... my parents accepted a business opportunity in Newman, Ca that they could not refuse, and moved us there (by us, meaning me, my sister, and my parents).
Where is Newman Ca? Google it. As a matter of fact, if you google 910 merced st, newman Ca you will see two businesses side by side: Newman Food Store and Kenneth's Coin Laundry. My parents own both. Yes, they named a laundromat after me.
Anyways, Newman, Ca.... what a quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. Hot as hell during the summer and cold during the winter. Know what else? We were the ONLY asian family there. I soon started pre-school which was cool and everything. I mean, kids ate paste and we basically ran around all day.
Then kindergarten (which is where the whole gremlin halloween costume fiasco happened), fast forward to 2nd grade where half way through the year, my dad decides to have the school give me an I.Q. test. I scored a 148 and was told that the next day I would be finishing the year as a 3rd grader.
3rd grade was pretty boring. I got my ass kicked once during recess. I didn't even do anything. I guess being the nerdy asian kid was reason enough? Whatever, the guy is probably either in jail, working at the local grocery store, or dead.
4th grade was pretty cool. I had discovered by accident that I could spell really well. We had a class competition, which I won. Then a school competition (rest of the 4th and 5th graders) which I won and then set me up for the district spelling bee. I told my dad that I was supposed to go to the local town center and compete in this thing. We did some practicing and proceeded to the town center. I ended up placing 2nd. The word I lost on? Commercial. Yeah, I spelled it with one m. I tell you what, after that debacle, my dad took a huge vested interest as I was to represent Newman California in the county spelling bee (1st and 2nd place finishers advanced).
We went through a ton of practice lists and a dictionary (abridged, thank god). Went to the bee and kicked little kid ass. Winning word? PLATELET.
So now it was on. I was to compete at the state level. Things got worse, way worse. My dad bought a freakin unabridged dictionary and we started with A and finished the damn thing. Well, we went to the state bee (held in Luther Burbank Center) and I again kicked little kid ass. Winning word here? Well, there were two because it was a tie between me and some other kid. We had to wait until one missed a word, which was MENISCUS for him. I spelled it correctly and then had to spell GLYPH. It was done. I went home. Did the local celebrity thing, spelled words that random people would ask me, including that stupid fucking word "supercalafragalisticexpealidotious" I don't think that's even a real word.
Fast forward a few more years to the summer after my 7th grade year. My pops decides it would be a good idea for me to do something constructive during the summer. It just so happens that he was holding a pamphlet for the local junior college in his hands. So I enrolled in an English course that summer. Stupid class started at 7am. I had to be up at 5:30 to eat breakfast and then drive the half hour or so to the stupid school. I can't tell you how many times I fell asleep during the lecture. Once, I noticed it was really quiet all of a sudden. I soon realized that the entire class stopped to watch me sleep. Good times.
Well, for the next several years, I took classes at night and during the summer until one day my sophmore year, an idea struck. I went to the High school principal and asked if I could substitute those JC classes I took for my junior year and graduate in 3 years instead of 4. They had no problem with it, so I had no problem with it. Honestly, I couldn't leave Newman any faster.
Let's see... anything interesting happen in High school? Meh, not really. I almost got trash canned once. I had a few crushes here and there and got rejected. But then again, who was going to go out with a chubby/nerdy asian guy who couldn't even go out after school anyways?
So, in May or June (I don't remember) of 1995, I left Newman, California and was headed to UC Berkeley as a stupid, yet excited 16 year old.
Another Underwear Story
This one takes place on the first day of summer, last year.
I was living with a co-worker in a fairly big house. Every so often, we would throw a party and invite all of our co-workers and friends.
This particular party would be memorable for several reasons.
1. It was unbelievably hot that day.
2. Several of the people attending the party were leaving the company and heading to grad school or med school
I was living with a co-worker in a fairly big house. Every so often, we would throw a party and invite all of our co-workers and friends.
This particular party would be memorable for several reasons.
1. It was unbelievably hot that day.
2. Several of the people attending the party were leaving the company and heading to grad school or med school
3. This was the first out of work party that all of our new interns attended.
4. I drank a shit-ton, put on a batman mask, and proceeded to strip down to my underwear.
Ok, so it was really hot that day. I would venture a guess and say it was in the 90s. Everyone was having fun, drinking, eating, socializing.....
Well, 4 glasses of wine, bottle of vodka, shot of tequila, and shot of port later, I found myself wearing my famous Bat Cowl.
Things started to cool down a bit, but the party really started to kick it up a notch. We played twister in our back yard. Wait, it was just me and Nhu. She ended up full on tackling me to the ground and I guess I tried to wrestle her while standing but the picture that was taken of this made it seem like I was choking her.
Anyways, as the night progressed, it almost felt like it was getting warm again. In protest, I stripped down to my underwear and stomped around the backyard. I was STILL wearing the batman mask.
Within 30 seconds of me running around the backyard complaining about how hot it was, in my underwear, Yolanda (co-worker) started yelling at me to put my clothes back on. At first I refused, but if you have ever had a puerto rican woman yelling at you, you know to listen. So, with some huffing and puffing, I put my clothes back on and walked back into the house.
Well, it turns out (and I had totally forgotten about this) after I walked back into the house I started to play Street Fighter II, Turbo edition. I was kicking everyone's ass while not even looking at the tv! Well, to up the ante a bit, I guess my pants came off again. I don't really remember doing that, but if several people say I did, well... I guess my pants came off.
Anyways, it was a great party and I look forward to another fantastic adventure in a week or so at another co-workers house.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Another Halloween Story
This one happened a looooooong time ago. I believe I was in kindergarten.
Well, I had pestered my mom all week to buy me a halloween costume so I could be one of the cool kids. She finally caved in and bought me a gremlin suit.
The problem was, the costume was made out of a cheap plastic. Of course, being a kindergartener, I had no idea that cheap plastic could present a problem. Boy was I wrong.
I decided in my infinite wisdom that it would be a good idea to wear nothing but a pair of tidy whities under the costume. The costume covered my whole body so I thought I was all good.
WELL.... everything was peachy keen until recess. A few kids wanted to race from the drinking fountain to the fence. I could not pass up an opportunity to race!
The race started off well until I got about 10 feet from the fence. That's when I noticed a strong draft in my lower region. I hit the fence and then looked down to see what was up. That is when I noticed that I had ripped the costume along my right side from my feet up to my hip. You could see my tender vittles.
So for the rest of the day, I had to hold the damn thing shut to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, the rip was so big that no matter how much I tried to close it my under-roos were still visible. Of course, the kids all laughed and pointed at me.
Epic fail, indeed.
Well, I had pestered my mom all week to buy me a halloween costume so I could be one of the cool kids. She finally caved in and bought me a gremlin suit.
The problem was, the costume was made out of a cheap plastic. Of course, being a kindergartener, I had no idea that cheap plastic could present a problem. Boy was I wrong.
I decided in my infinite wisdom that it would be a good idea to wear nothing but a pair of tidy whities under the costume. The costume covered my whole body so I thought I was all good.
WELL.... everything was peachy keen until recess. A few kids wanted to race from the drinking fountain to the fence. I could not pass up an opportunity to race!
The race started off well until I got about 10 feet from the fence. That's when I noticed a strong draft in my lower region. I hit the fence and then looked down to see what was up. That is when I noticed that I had ripped the costume along my right side from my feet up to my hip. You could see my tender vittles.
So for the rest of the day, I had to hold the damn thing shut to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, the rip was so big that no matter how much I tried to close it my under-roos were still visible. Of course, the kids all laughed and pointed at me.
Epic fail, indeed.
Gordo inspired blogging expedition
I'm new to this whole blogging thing. After reading some of Gordon's blog (brand spankin new intern at my company) I have decided that blogging may be a good thing to do. It's almost like a "dear diary" and in case I need to remember something important, all I have to do is come back and read.
So, what to write about on my maiden voyage of blogspace?
I guess I can talk about what I did today. I trained with my fellow powerlifters. I then went to see my chiropracter. When I came back home, I watched Step Brothers. Food was concomitantly consumed.
After the movie, a haircut was in order. And now, I'm blogging.
I know... pretty boring.
Ok, so I'll include a fairly interesting story of my most recent excursion to the land of heathens a.k.a Las Vegas.
Last Halloween several former co-workers, a current co-worker and I decided to take a weekend trip to Vegas. The former co-workers live in San Diego and currently go to either UCSD or Scripps for grad school. I know, poor souls. Well, this story begins at the airport. Dave (co-worker) and I booked flights on Virgin America. For those of you who don't know, Virgin America is located in the international terminal at SFO. This terminal is pretty nice. Dave also realized that upgrading to first class seats was only 40 bucks or so more. We booked them. Anyways, when we got to the airport, we had a few hours to kill (I believe our flight was delayed a bit) so, we decided to get a drink. Dave got a beer and I ordered a long island. The bartender returned with said beer and long island. This was no long island. It was some sort of mutant bastard, much like the Juggernaut, of which I could taste no coca cola. Needless to say, by the time I was done with the drink I was fairly buzzed. The bartender asked if I liked it. I replied, "hell yeah" and he followed up with "I call it....... the Jesus"
Anyways, I had another one about 5 minutes later and then got on the plane. Dave and I were pretty loud, but it was a flight to Las Vegas, so it was all good. We meet up with everyone at the hotel and we head out for a night of drinking, shit talking, and fun. Well, at least everyone else did... We decided to head to the Toby Keith bar. For a country bar it was pretty cool. Ok music and good, strong drinks. And this is where the story gets really interesting. At one point, I was sitting with my friends next to a table which had 4 patrons enjoying their beverages. These patrons left, so I decided to stretch out a bit and put my arm on their now vacant table. Some time goes by and I feel a slight pressure on my right arm. One of those patrons had returned (a nice grandmother looking lady probably in her 60s or so) and it was she who touched my arm. I immediately apologized for resting my arm on her table as I didn't notice her drink was still there and next to my arm. BUT, before I could move away, she grabbed my arm and yelled something in my ear. I asked her to repeat and this was what I heard, "Did you put any ecstasy in my drink?" I was absolutely stunned and managed to sputter something to the effect of "no way ma'am, I did not touch your drink in any way!" To which she replied, "awww, I was hoping that you did!"
Ok. So I was instantly like, what the fuck. I need to move. Well, I guess her old cougar senses were afire because she quickly wrapped her left arm around my shoulder and started caressing my side. She then proceeded to regale me with stories of her youth and how crack was the drug of choice during that time. Now, this is where I must tell you all that her husband was sitting next to her the whole time that she was rubbing my side, arm, and back. Where were my friends? Good question. Those motherfathers were watching, pointing, laughing and taking pictures the whole time. Not once did they offer to help usher me away from the attacks of the gmilf.
I eventually escaped her lecherous grasp and got another drink. The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I had yelled at some marines "HOO RAH MOTHERFUCKER!" I think my friends thought I was gonna fight one of them, but I'm pretty sure I was just being patriotic. We then left the bar to get back to our hotel. While walking through the lobby, someone came up from behind me and grabbed me around the waist. I thought it was one of my friends but when I turned around, I came face to face with a woman dressed as Pocohontas. There was a brief second of WTF? and then she kissed me. By the time I figured out what the hell was going on, she was gone.
The next morning, we all met up and talked about the occurrences of the night before. I asked everyone if the pocohontas girl was hot. Half said, "meh" the other half said, "she was not bad".
Oh well.
Ok, that's one story. I have a few others. I will post them at a later date.
Oh, I went to fenton's last night and had a vanilla sundae with cold caramel and whipped cream. I'm lactose intolerant. Yes, I have my own room and was alone last night.
So, what to write about on my maiden voyage of blogspace?
I guess I can talk about what I did today. I trained with my fellow powerlifters. I then went to see my chiropracter. When I came back home, I watched Step Brothers. Food was concomitantly consumed.
After the movie, a haircut was in order. And now, I'm blogging.
I know... pretty boring.
Ok, so I'll include a fairly interesting story of my most recent excursion to the land of heathens a.k.a Las Vegas.
Last Halloween several former co-workers, a current co-worker and I decided to take a weekend trip to Vegas. The former co-workers live in San Diego and currently go to either UCSD or Scripps for grad school. I know, poor souls. Well, this story begins at the airport. Dave (co-worker) and I booked flights on Virgin America. For those of you who don't know, Virgin America is located in the international terminal at SFO. This terminal is pretty nice. Dave also realized that upgrading to first class seats was only 40 bucks or so more. We booked them. Anyways, when we got to the airport, we had a few hours to kill (I believe our flight was delayed a bit) so, we decided to get a drink. Dave got a beer and I ordered a long island. The bartender returned with said beer and long island. This was no long island. It was some sort of mutant bastard, much like the Juggernaut, of which I could taste no coca cola. Needless to say, by the time I was done with the drink I was fairly buzzed. The bartender asked if I liked it. I replied, "hell yeah" and he followed up with "I call it....... the Jesus"
Anyways, I had another one about 5 minutes later and then got on the plane. Dave and I were pretty loud, but it was a flight to Las Vegas, so it was all good. We meet up with everyone at the hotel and we head out for a night of drinking, shit talking, and fun. Well, at least everyone else did... We decided to head to the Toby Keith bar. For a country bar it was pretty cool. Ok music and good, strong drinks. And this is where the story gets really interesting. At one point, I was sitting with my friends next to a table which had 4 patrons enjoying their beverages. These patrons left, so I decided to stretch out a bit and put my arm on their now vacant table. Some time goes by and I feel a slight pressure on my right arm. One of those patrons had returned (a nice grandmother looking lady probably in her 60s or so) and it was she who touched my arm. I immediately apologized for resting my arm on her table as I didn't notice her drink was still there and next to my arm. BUT, before I could move away, she grabbed my arm and yelled something in my ear. I asked her to repeat and this was what I heard, "Did you put any ecstasy in my drink?" I was absolutely stunned and managed to sputter something to the effect of "no way ma'am, I did not touch your drink in any way!" To which she replied, "awww, I was hoping that you did!"
Ok. So I was instantly like, what the fuck. I need to move. Well, I guess her old cougar senses were afire because she quickly wrapped her left arm around my shoulder and started caressing my side. She then proceeded to regale me with stories of her youth and how crack was the drug of choice during that time. Now, this is where I must tell you all that her husband was sitting next to her the whole time that she was rubbing my side, arm, and back. Where were my friends? Good question. Those motherfathers were watching, pointing, laughing and taking pictures the whole time. Not once did they offer to help usher me away from the attacks of the gmilf.
I eventually escaped her lecherous grasp and got another drink. The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I had yelled at some marines "HOO RAH MOTHERFUCKER!" I think my friends thought I was gonna fight one of them, but I'm pretty sure I was just being patriotic. We then left the bar to get back to our hotel. While walking through the lobby, someone came up from behind me and grabbed me around the waist. I thought it was one of my friends but when I turned around, I came face to face with a woman dressed as Pocohontas. There was a brief second of WTF? and then she kissed me. By the time I figured out what the hell was going on, she was gone.
The next morning, we all met up and talked about the occurrences of the night before. I asked everyone if the pocohontas girl was hot. Half said, "meh" the other half said, "she was not bad".
Oh well.
Ok, that's one story. I have a few others. I will post them at a later date.
Oh, I went to fenton's last night and had a vanilla sundae with cold caramel and whipped cream. I'm lactose intolerant. Yes, I have my own room and was alone last night.
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