November 2001 Archive

11/29/01
A year can do so much.

Crikey. On the cusp of December already? 12 months ago, I was freezing my ass off while on vacation in new york, hiking through snow on a quest for a tiara for a new years party. I was way-laid by a visit with a girlfriend of mine Aminah, who by nature of complete & utter fabulousity, talked me into my first pedicure.

After Aminah and her boy got laid off, she went on a fantabulous world wind tour of various exotic delights. For *Months* now. I’d guess 10 or so months she’s been out of the country. Me, I got laid off and I regressed, single as ever, to being a 17 year old with a temporary job at the mall.

Deciding that she needed some positivity she and her hunky buns settled down in italy and puttered with ideas on what to do with themselves. And get this, the girl is now responsible for *this* THIS!

IL REGALO – Imported Gifts from the Green Heart of Italy
Translated from Italian to mean “The Gift”, Il Regalo specializes in gift sets exclusively from the region of Umbria, known as the “Green Heart of Italy”. The woods and mountains of Umbria are a treasure trove of delicacies and only the best have been selected for you to impress your most valuable clients and friends for all occassions

Here is a command.
Go buy something from them. Better yet, go buy me something from them. (I’m salivating over Package B)
* La Romagna Stringozzi Fantasia Pasta (Basil, Red Pepper and Original)
* Urbani White Truffle Oil
* Urbani Olive Paste with Truffle
* Sole Umbro Sun Dried Porcini
* Lenticchia di Montagna Lentils
* Perugina 300g Chocolate/Hazelnut Bar
* Perugina Amaretto Hot Chocolate
* Product Count: 7
* Gift set weight: 6.6 pounds
* Dimensions (in.): 15x11x10 * Includes local Umbrian recipes
* Packaged in original Italian fruit crate

And please tell her I sent you there with bouquets of lavender kisses.

I guess I wouldn’t feel so lame (well, except that I am getting lots of cuddly affirmation from good peeps these days) were it not for the fact that my pal J. came in to town and tenderly, lovingly, with the elegance of fred astaire, and the alacrity of a tijuana pickpocket, ripped me a new asshole while stuffing me with sushi last night?

J. is an old pal from my old news group days. To say the least he’s bloody brilliant. To say any more would incriminate our friendship terribly but let’s just say that he’s the only venture capitalist i know that can “call in a favor” to have military escorts in thailand’sairports to help herd his family through to Phuket for a birthday party. Or to have made it through customs with dozens of vibrators as per the requests of his wife’s friend’s (very specific requests mind you) who are in sexually dissatisfactory relationships. Or to show up for dinner in a 3 piece suit but feel utterly comfortably telling me that he’s trying to remember the first time he started having sex with women half his age. (He’s far my senior, should be more of an uncle really, but still keeps on trying to convince me to be his mistress)

Mind you, he’s probably the most intimidating man you’d ever want to see across the boardroom table from you, speaks a half dozen languages, studied nuclear physics (but hey, it’s not rocket science he scoffs) and giggles like a nine year old after singing the lyrics to Wierd Al Yankovich’s “Eat It”.

It makes me feel just a *bit* more special to know that such wonderfuly unique creatures consider me their friend.

Poetica Spontenaum 11/29/01
Withery Shivers
prickle my skin
like vinegar poured into my bones

Tucked tightly
beneath February covers
I’ll sleep pensively while the house groans

Min Jung

11/28/01

Boy I’ve been gone too long.

Yup, it’s been over a week since I was blessed with regular online connectivity, freedom to be the utter glorious dork that I am, and to pick at my toe jam in private without concern from interruption or parental lecture.

I am back from the holidays and I’m not quite sure where to begin but I’ll try my best.

Well I recovered rather nicely from the party and am almost quite done basking in the blushable embarrassment of incidences that happened that evening. Still, it’s rather fascinating to learn who hooked up with who.And exactly who is the person referred to in *this* post?

Besides yours trully who admits to rather some irresponsible mischief. While having kissed a former porn actress, and more than a few boys and having missed kissing one of the boys I would have rather liked to have and still recovering from the ear licking sandwhich by which i was caught on one of the balconies – gawd forgive me Did I mention that I’m a good Catholic girl from the midwest who doesn’t participate in such bizarre behavior? That I’m a moral upright person who goes to church, bible study, and gives blood? That I bloody founded a service sorority in college nearly 6 years back? *cradeling head in shame while wracked in severe Catholic guilt* I need to go to confession

Rumor has it that there are even some Craigslist Missed Connections missives up regarding folks at the party. Woot. Woot. Woot.

Anyways,to catch you up on my latest.
I flew back to Michigan last Monday, recovered from lag on tuesday, ate an obscene amount of Korean home cooking on Tuesday and tried not to be bored silly by the lack of television, trash talking friends, or freedom of mobility or internet connectivity. Desperate to manage my addiction for the internet, I went to the library and nearly got kicked out for laughing too loud from reading various accounts from the party. My favorite involves Ernie offering the e to Evan.

Wednsday evening, I got a few of the bloggers in MI that I knew together for a dinner out. That’s right. All three of them. Dave(zilla), Scott (studly man with his bride Amy), and Amy.

So out of the group of us, there was 3.5 Koreans and 1.5 White boys. I rather like how Dave put it. Amy had some rather nice pix here as well. And just as she predicted, we all had digital cameras. Scott is an extremely nice hug and I’m glad to hear that he’s getting help for his hug aversion. His incredibly radiant and lovely bride Amy was unbelievably tolerant of our dorkdom geeking out in reference to dish on online personalities that we all know, love, or hate. Dorks we all be.

The company, conversation, and chuckles were a total delight and Dave was kind enough to walk me back to the Catholic-Mobile as I affectionately refer to my Dad’s cherry red blazer which sports 3 rosaries, a medalian, a “God is Pro Life bumber sticker” and a decanter which I suspect carries holy water. I’m not kidding.

And no, it was relatively mild inspite of expected rumours.

Thursday of course, means Turkey.
Dad and my step mother Monica were up at an awful hour of the morning preparing a 22 pound turkey, 11 pound ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing (sans kimchi like made by yours trully) ham sauce, gravy, steamed broccoli
From scratch.

The onus was placed upon my father to introduce two newly-fob families to the tradition of Thanksgiving. Two families with a total of five gangly Korean kids ranging in age from 8 to 16 invaded the home. I’m still not sure which kid belonged to which pair of parents but I do recall their names quite fondly.

Jake, Abe, Dustin, Annie, And Roy.

Yup, 5 Korean kids who are named after cowboys and cowgirls. Brilliant.

My father, with much flourish, carved the turkey, gave precise cooking instructions to the ladies of the two families, and demonstrated the precise way an American thanksgiving meal should be presented. There was a chorus of “ooohs” and “ahhhhs” as my dad created a piquant valley with his gravy ladel in the mashed potatos and poured his incredible home made gravy into the fluffy golden puffs.

Of course no meal is complete with a small pile of Kimchi on the side.
Trully.

The parental units started breaking out into the scotch and Karaoke.Dustin’s reaction pretty well resonates my own though I was reasonably polite at the time. (the scrapper to the right looking like he’s going to have his ears start bleeding any second now)

The rest of the kids also looked bored silly since the primary TV was occupied by the karaoke fools.

I pulled out my comic books (X-Men, X-Factor, Gen 13, WildCats, Spawn, Punisher, and the Amazing Spider Man … issues ranging from 1986 – 94 when I stopped collecting if you must know.. and yes they were all boarded and bagged) for entertainment and later took them out to see a movie.Alas, their choice in films led us to see Martin Lawrence in Black Night.

My ultimate thoughts regarding thanksgiving?
If it weren’t for the mashed potatoes, I don’t know if I would have made it through.

Friday & Saturday
Mostly preocuppied with wedding madness including going to pick up an emergency kit for the bride, my best friend of over 20 years.

Heres the MJ Wedding Veteran Recipe for the
MUST HAVE EMERGENCY KIT THAT EVERY BRIDE SHOULD HAVE.
* A great gift idea if you are the maid of honor or bridesmaid *

One large lovely sewing kit basket with some sort of froufy design and compartments if you can get em.
Extended visit to the dollar or local drugstore to find the following
Sewing Kit
Safety Pins
Hair Pins
Mints
Gum
Chalk (easier to white over skuffs on dresses or shoes than trying to clean em)
Scotch Tape (emergency hemming, posting signs, who knows)
Krazy Glue (broken nails or anything else)
Pen & Paper
Straws (so that bridal party can drink something without messing up their makeup)
Kleenex lots of the little purse side packets
Anti Bacterial Wipes
Aspirin/Advil
Bandaids
Lip Balm
Shoe Stuff (grips for the bottom of heels, cushion support, etc. Dr. Scholls crap)
Tampons & Pantiliners
Static guard
Lint brush
Extra pairs of panty hose
Clear Nail Polish
Nail File
Nail polish remover wipes
Any non crumbly munchy ie: gummy worms
Juice Boxes
Touch up makeup for bride/bridesmaids
Oil/Shine blotter papers
Razer (No bridesmaid should have hairy pits if their dress looks like it might show)
Saline Solution
Contact Eye Drops/Mini bottle of saline
Extra Contact Case
Q Tips
AA batteries (for film & digital cameras)
Extra camera film

Traveler Size
Hair Spray
Deoderant
Mouth Wash
Tooth brush & Tooth Paste
Dental Floss

This wedding was a unique experience for me to say the least as this was the first time I was an actual maid of honor, and that it was a unitarian/buddhist ceremony.

Yeah, Jen, the Irish Italian princess, is Buddhist. If you’re a long time reader, you may recall the time I mentioned our trip together to a Zen Buddhist Center here in the bay area. My legs still cramp up at the memory of sitting on my butt cross legged for an hour at a time and damnit, shouldn’t that tolerance be in my genetics or something?

Anyways, the wedding was beautiful and I was most struck by the lovely and earnest spirit in the vows. I don’t recall them exactly but I do recall a few of the following statments which included

“May I be as clear as a mirror so that I may always reflect your beauty to you. May I be as wide and spacious as the sky so that you can always grow…”

I considered it pretty refreshing compared to the Song of Solomon that I’ve heard more times than I can tap a toe to.
I think that they make a gorgeous couple. Don’t you?
And I promised the groom that I would not refer to the wedding as a big honky cracker affair. But, well. Puah ha ha ha. Kidding.

Trying not to piss of my dad by runnign around late with the Catholic-Mobile after the reception, I called my father at 11 to tell him I’d be running late.
After coming home at 2 AM, my dad was waiting up for me.
And *gasp* I had the splendiferous perfume of one to many gin & tonics on my breath. And then he grounded me. My priviliges with the catholic-mobile were revoked for the rest of my visit in michigan and I wound up stranded at home, reading old history text books in desperation for intellectual stimulation. Failing that, I turned to my stash of Bloom County that I had buried in the basement.

Remind me again how old I am? Oy veh.

Of interesting note to some careful readers, I’m feeling rather conflicted.

You see, I’ve always been rather, well, intolerant, biased, indifferent, and dismissive to white guys hitting on me. Perhaps it’s been in hyper reaction to feeling biased against them while growing up, that I wasn’t white enough to date by some of the guys I knew and had crushes on while growing up.

Perhaps it’s because my mother would say things like “you know, you should not datuh the white boy becausuh, you know, they not want to marry you. They justuh think dat you some oriental girl they can play with and then not marry. You don’t want that. No. Not good. Only Korean boy.”

And then it’s that whole Asian pride thing and getting pissed off any white guy fool who considers me an exoticized prize or expects some sort of subservient ultra-femnized yada yada yada yada. Right?

And then there is the whole hairy ass thing. I’m pretty partial to men without hairy asses and the liklihood of finding that within the Asian ethnic community tends to be a bit higher than in the Anglo community.

This month has left me rather conflicted. I’ve got Jahbohm’s on the hoof and I can’t help but well, admit to, um…some level of …. gasp… Anglo-curiosity. .

The other night marked the first incredibly detailed crush day dreaming that I’ve had about a white guy since, oh… 1991 or so. I’m bloody serious.

Must now flagelate myself with old copies of Strangers From A Different Shore

Poetica Spontenaum

11/28/01

Weary heavy head
Drooping like a swans neck
Curved warmly in yours

11/17/01
First off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERNIE!WOOOT! YOU ARE NOW A QUARTER CENTURY OLD!NO MORE HAVING TO DRINK MILK IN ATTEMPTS TO GROW. GIVE IT UP! GIVE IT UP GIVE UP THE MILK & REPLACE IT WITH SOJU!

Holiday Shenanigans
So yeah,Today I will suffer the intense torture of being at a mall all day.Not just any mall, but a mall where the average net worth of a 4 year old could buy a small south east Asian village and then some. Yup.Pimping out the Santa set over at Stanford. Yippy. You can tell that the excitement is just overwhelming.

Not to mention that just checking out & setting up for the set today involved a verbal attack from a fierce Frenchman that looked like Mr Eaton from family ties because he desperately demanded his right to take his child past the roped off set (not completely built yet, by the way) so that his infant daughter would have the right to see the set.Without Santa.

In fact, fierce Frenchman was nearly expelled from the mall by security for his verbal abuse to mall management because he wanted to show his 2 year old daughter the Santa set with nary a care for respecting boundaries or being told no, insisting “SO WHAT DOES IT HURT? WHAT THE BIG DEAL< I DO WHAT I WANT< WHAT THE ROPE FOR ME? WHAT DOES IT HURT< I CARRYHER MYSELF NO YOU DON"T TELL ME WHAT I CAN OR CAN"T DO"

Way to go with the Christmas spirit. Good job Dad.

And still, all is right with the world.There are few times in a person’s life where they will feel utterly right with the universe.At 2:10 this morning, for some reason, I feel that.I’m in anticipation of the party, I’m looking forward to seeing good friends and making new ones.I’m reasonably pre-hydrated right now. And I’ve done 75 crunches with precision punches. (Primarily guilt induced)
This after an intoxicatingly marvelous thanksgiving dinner with my bible study. Peking styled Turkey, mashed potatoes, kimchi stuffing, garlic string beans, steamed asparagus, fried rice, gravy, fresh fruit, pumpkin pie, Mocchi ice cream.
And oh yeah, grapes.

Poetica Spontenaium 11/17/01
I can’t stop rubbing
The soft slick band of skin
naked,
pale
almost oily

suddenly exposed
now that I’ve taken off the ring.

My joints now feel
crooked and
malformed

Like a woman’s body
after decades of
wearing a corset

unable to breathe
yet believing desperately
in the beauty
that destroys.

In Other News
Sometimes I think I need to learn to be nicer.

T. whom I’ve been friends with for years is frequently the target of my trash talk attacks.Over dinner, several of us were talking about how women are more naturally inclined to be multi-taskers than men since it’s a behavior that’s so extremely vital for successful parenting. An example discussed was about women who have to cook, manage children, and keep hubby happy while in the kitchen. During breakfast a woman has to multitask over a doze activities easily.To which T said “That’s what I’d like to see more of… women multitasking in the Kitchen.”

Later in the conversation, on the subject of the ever skilled one handed turkey carving by the ever lovely diva JL of the group, T. remarked “When you need to do something right, you gotta get a woman.”

To which I zinged “Yeah T, too bad you can’t do that.”

No really, T & I are great friends, we just cap on each other all the time.
*ALL* the time. I should really lay off. Really.

Gnight all.

And if you’re planning on coming to this party & blogging about it, please refrain from mentioning drunken naked pictures of yours truly…as I’m pretty confident it *wont* happen, but hey, you never know. At least *email* the pix to me first.
Pbt.

Min Jung

11/16/01
*Cough*
Why hello. How have you been? Really? Wow, that’s great. Great. Great. Great. Great. “HEY BOB, WE GOT ANOTHER GLITCH IN POLITE SMALL TALK PROGRAM # 56…LET”S GET IT IN THE SHOP BEFORE IT GOES TOURETTES”

Ok.
Random.
Two guys asked me to “hang out”.
Hmmm… perhaps my mojo’s actig up again without my permission.
Nyahhhhh. Who me?

I AM MOJO JOJO DO NOT CALL ME BUBBLES BECAUSE BUBBLES IS NOT MY NAME BY WHICH YOU SHOULD CALL ME FOR MY NAME WHICH I AM CALLED IS NONE OTHER THAN MOJO JOJO. Remember when I mentioned that my DSL was farting this past week…acting like my ass after a whole bunch of queso? (lactose intolerant, yo.) The technician came by today while I had it up and rolling and downloading some crappy movie that I’d never pay to rent. It was working reasonably decent.

After doing a 3 hour diagnostic, the technician asked me
“How long has your DSL been installed?”
“Hmm almost a year”
“And when did it start acting up?”
“Tuesday.”
“Hmmm…”
“Is that a good hmm or a bad hmmm?”
“Well… I’m looking at the wiring and the way that it’s been hooked up with the *BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH….AND MORE BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH* welll… I don’t understand how it’s been working at all. Only in the last hour is it behaving the way it should have been and I don’t know how you had it running before.”
“Huh?”
“Magical DSL.”
“Well…I always knew I was kinda special….Min Jung MOJO!”

*later as the technician gets ready to leave*
I call out “Hey, my phone line’s out”
Tech: “I didn’t touch your phone line, it should be fine.”
Me: “Nuh, uhhhh!”
Tech. “I swear I didn’t touch it”
Me: (Screaming at him like a pouty anime girl) “YOU BROKE MY PHONE! YOU BROKE MY MOJO! FIX IT! FIX IT NOW!”
Tech: “Yes ma’m”

Oh…did I fail to mention I was cooking at the time and holding a genuine Yan Can Cook meat cleaver?
Woops.

Poetica Spontenaum 11/16/01

Party Haiku
I will drink too much
Throwing Ernie’s Birthday Bash
And flirting with boys

Party Prep:
Guests Invited: Check
Room Clenaed: Check
Furniture Secured: Check
Soju Bought Check
Sober Food Prepped Check

Items Still Needed
Ice,
Cups
Beer
Munchies
Bribe money for the cops
Extra buckets for Ernie vomiting.

And In Other News
I STILL NEED SANTAS HELPERS – $9/Hour at Stanford Shopping Center Email me

And I STILL NEED ERNIE ROAST/TRIBUTE/FANSIGNS & other miscellany scandelous goodness. SEND EM!
The roast site is *nearly* ready
It’s coming soon to a browser near you.

XMAS/NEW YEARS ROAD TRIP PLANS

5. Take the CA-13 NORTH ramp towards BERKELEY. 0.2
6. Merge onto CA-13 N. 1.6
7. Take the CA-24 EAST exit towards WALNUT CREEK/CONCORD. 0.5
8. Merge onto CA-24 E. 15.1
9. Take I-680 NORTH RAMP towards CONCORD/SACRAMENTO. 1.1
10. Merge onto I-680 N. 39.4
11. Take the I-80 EAST exit towards SACRAMENTO. 0.8
12. Merge onto I-80 E. 23.7
13. Take I-505 NORTH RAMP towards WINTERS/REDDING. 1.3
14. Merge onto I-505 N. 53.9
15. Take I-5 N. 1333.4
16. I-5 N becomes HIGHWAY 99 N. 31.2

OK. THANK GAWD THOSE DISTANCE MEASUREMENTS ARE IN KILOMETERS, BUT STILL!!!
GAWDDAMN!. BERTIE, RITCHIE GOOD LORD!

11/15/01

How Do I pray?
Each morning I stretch my palms out to the ceilings and thank God that I am alive.As I brush my teeth, I read over the prayer of Jabez taped on my mirror. “Oh Lord, that you would bless me. That you would enlarge my territory, keep your hand with me and keep me from evil”In the shower I say thanks to God for a healthy body… a boon since I dont’ have health insurance
In the car, I make a visual acknowledgement to the rosaries hanging on the rear view mirror.Unlike my mother who used to do the rosary while driving, I prefer to keep both hands on the wheel (except when it’s on the radio nob, diving through my purse for change or directions, dialing the cel phone, etc)

When I start writing here, I do a mini examination of where God was in my day, who I spoke to, what I appreciated, how things went that were just right, what went wrong and what I’m supposed to learn from it, and try to discern and meditate on what God is trying to say to me that day.

When I close my eyes, I thank God for another good day and the hope for another good one tomorrow.

Poetica Spontenaum 11/15/01
Crash over me
in frozen fury
unable to move
blink or to breathe

Crash over me
in brilliant glory
a pilar of salt
too impatient to see

Crash over me
In wind and sleet
Cutting into my cheeks
Like a warrior in ready

Crash over me
oh yes.
Once again
Crash.

(and yes, i actually do write these ON THE SPOT each day…well 3 days in a row and spottily on occasion in the past and 99% of the time I do guarantee they will suck royal hairy sweaty monkey balls but that’s ok, now tisn’t it?)

Dreadful Disappointment
Well,
So it’s the bay area which already puts at a disadvantage every fabulostess who wants to throw a party with an equal part of lovely ladies as dapper dons. Heaven knows it’s murder trying to get a ratio of breeder guys to gals that’s any better than 7 to 5. Really. And I try, trust me I try.

But to be *harrangued* for it today by a cute boy (that I would have once fleetingly considered…considered for what? oh…) and accused that I hadn’t invited any women? Referring to my evite list as “Castro Street” ? And then to be challenging me if I thought I was woman enough for the entier party.

Oh honey, I’m *Positive* I’m enough woman for the entire party.You just proved that you’re not enough man.Isn’t that a stinker.

What’s a girl to do when she really *is* too good for most of the men out there? Who’s left that *is* still good enough (and straight, and single, and with all their hair and teeth, etc etc.) ???

I will say that I always feel better about myself when I anonymously browse through personals ads out there.There’s nothing quite so gratifying as seeing pictures, profiles, & detailed descriptions for guys calling themselves “labialover”or “14incherforyou” or “Wtng4dagurLofmydrms” or “NiceguyfinishafterU” to make a gal feel better.Pbbbbbbbbbbt.

I have some of the coolest friends.

D. a guy who asked me to be his date for the prom (or was it homecoming) back in 1990 after meeting him once, whom I ducked phone calls from, whom my mother lied to so that I wouldn’t be bothered by any boys at all, whom somehow or other I wound up still being friends with in College & beyond (why dang it all, maybe i should have gone to prom with him) sent me a hallmark digital Happy Diwali card today.

D. Kicks major ass.
So, Happy Diwali to everyone today.

From Yahoo re: The significance of Diwali:
In Hinduism, a five-day religious festival in autumn. It honors Lakshmi, goddess of wealth, or, in Bengal, the goddess Kali. During its celebration, earthenware lamps are lit and placed on the parapets of houses and temples or set adrift on rivers and streams. The fourth day of the festival marks the start of a new year, a time of gift-giving, visiting friends, decorating homes, and wearing new clothes. Diwali is celebrated by Jains and Sikhs as well.

And In Other News
I STILL NEED SANTAS HELPERS – $9/Hour at Stanford Shopping Center Email me

And I STILL NEED ERNIE ROAST/TRIBUTE/FANSIGNS & other miscellany scandelous goodness. SEND EM!

Presenting the Newly Incarnated and Ever Lovely Though Anonymous *cough* Miss Wahine

11/14/01
Nice to know that some people still pay attention to my rants.

One reader wrote in
did you know that 10 02 2001 was the first palindromic date we had in a long time? the last one before that was X-mas [er, new years actually], 1321 (12 31 1321).

after that, we only have
01 02 2010
11 02 2011
12 02 2021
01 12 2110
10 12 2110
11 12 2111
12 12 2121
and then we have to wait another millenium before more palindromic dates.

Richard even notes that my last entry had less to do with mathematics itself as it did numerology. I stand corrected.
See how much Forintos fried my brains?

Have you listened to Our Lady Peace’s song “Julia”.Sometimes I forget that Julia was one my previous incarnations.Yes, my baptismal name was Julia. My father says my name with a charmingly thick accent that makes the “L” sound more like a hard “R” that rolls around in bed with “D” so that he calls out to me “Jhoodiyah”.

He’s among the last people I knwo who remember under that incarnation.I’m only 27 but I’ve already gone through several incarnations, it seems.

When I was born, I was named something. Pops had me change my name before I was even 100 days old. He paid money to a local shaman woman to create for me a luckier name. Trully luckier? Beats me.

At 3 I was baptized in a church called St. Agatha’s outside of Detroit. And Julia was the name given to me. A virgin saint. Stop laughing. I remember the huge pool & fountain, green with moss and stained by the benedictions of generations of pigeons that was in the front of the church and being terrified of being pushed, tripped, or chucked into the murkey depths by my brother.

The baptism certificate, aged and crisp in my photo album, lists my parents as Agatha Kang Kim and Ambrosius Kim.
These are names by which I never knew my parents. While growing up, they were referred to by their friends as my Maikuh’s (my brother Michael)parents or Jhoodiya’s parents. Dad went by Kim to his neighbors and co-workers. I’ve never in my 27 years heard my dad introduce himself with a British accent as Ambrosius though I think I’d pay money to see that. Portending a future of iminent divadom, I was baptized with my sunglasses on. I’m not kidding.
Ah, ok, perhaps my memory is faulty, but I’m pretty sure I remember having my shades when being carried up to the fountain and when taking photos outside. See? Proof.

Sassy kid, wasn’t I?

Some things don’t change. *Shrug*.
I went by Julia for most of my academia and tried not to think too much about the junior economics teacher who insisted that my name was Kimberly and was frustrated because I would glare at her, not answering to that name. Yeah, not only did this woman consider me and my parents morons who couldn’t fill out last name first papers correctly, but actually made some comment about how “those koreans really do such a good job with the dry cleaning.” Yeah.

Half way through my senior year in high school, in another act of teen angst identity confusion, I went back to my ethnic name Min Jung. This started to confuse my high school friends, my brother’s friends, and my teachers who decided that they would refrain from calling on me for the rest of the term lest they offend. (Except for Mr. Eshleman, my AP Bio teacher who decided to use me as an example in genetics… like.. what are the odds that I’ll have an AB+ blood type kid if I married Ho Chi Minh and he was B+. Gawd I wish I were kidding. Oy the shit I put up with. No wonder I’m such an angrly little asian girl right now. ~ btw, props always to Lela of ALAG.).

My brother was never confused, and to this day refers to me as Jules. (Nah, he’s not a whitey sell out or anything, he’s just stubborn and has always gone by Mike or Michael. His Korean name Kun Soo lead too way too many jokes in the 80s with the Gin Su knife infomercials which plagued our midwest dumb-box channels).

Min Jung as a name confused everyone. Not only in it’s deceptively simple pronunciation (I’ve been called everything from Min, Minny, Min Yung, Meen Joong, Mean Joe Green, etc) but that I wasn’t a FOB, didn’t speak Korean, and yet had a decidedly ethnic name. Go figure.

And still even today, I’ve confused as many people as I’ve been confused myself. Fair is fair, right? These days I’m reincarnated as MJ. That’s cool. I like being placed on the same nom’ boat as Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan, and Mah Johng.

Personally, I love this picture of me on our left here. The original dress is currently hung up on my bedroom wall. Yes I still have it. Of course I do.

So really, what’s in a name?
That a gal should still smell like Kimchi.

Poetica Spontenaum 11/14/01
If you and I
were paper

I would fold
you into me
when I was willing to love you

and I
into you
when you used to believe that I couldn’t.

and the times that we laughed
would crease over
the times that I scratched you
and tear over the times you were silent to me
except in your breath and pulse against my cheek.

If you and I
were paper

We would not be taped
back to back

without form
without vulgar emotions
scribbled on our backs
like
absentminded tatoos

love carved on one side with a thumbnail
and hate scarred on another with tooth

so biased
and only sheet thin away from the other

if you and I
were paper

would we weave into each other
in precise angles
and folds
that
bloom into
radiating stars
outwards and upwards
without
beginning
or end

or would
we find ourselves
a pair of wishful cranes
side by side
until crumpled
by a fist.

In Other News
Holy Fricking Crow!
Over 130 people are RSVPed for this upcoming saturday’s party. I’m beginnign to get psyched and really nervous regarding capacity, noise, sufficient alcohol, and etc. Am I going to be stuck stirring up batch after batch of lemon soju? Will I get to actually flirt with anyone new? Oh, I’m sure I’ll pull through in Min Jung ultra fabulous mode, but really…if i could be any * more * fabulous, wouldn’t I have to be a gay man? Am very much looking forward to meeting the tons in attendance.

We may have live/at party blogging rolling out if my dsl stops farting & burping. I swear, my dsl line is behaving like my butt after a tub of haagendazs

Keep them stories on Ernie coming in. I’ve gotten some doozies. =D
Wooot!

I feel like being girly.
I just spent a half hour on Reflect.com customizing some MJ Diva Juice moisterizers and eyecreams because I have to re-order some foundation from them soon. But then I realized that I have an obscene number of lotions already (Over a dozen little bottles of Carita Lait Por Le Corps…lifted from hotels in Europe) and a girl really shouldn’t spend $35 on moisturizer when she’s late on her cel phone payments. Even though I’m worth it, damn it.

(VERY INSIDE JOKE WHICH WILL NOT MAKE SENSE TO MANY OF YOU SO DON”T TAKE IT PERSONALLY)
And Kevin, Sorry for venting tonight earlier while meandering through the romantically asbestos sprinkling frozen food aisle of the ghetto rockridge safeway with rats earlier tonight. I don’t hate you because you’re a white guy. I hate you because you’re a white guy that stole all my good luck. Goodness, after SXSW, neither Ernie, myself, nor Bertie have held stable happy jobs. Ritchie was immune cuz he’s either got flilipino mojo from eating all that balut or because he’s canadian..I hate you because you steal our luck by making a pact with the Devil and sealing it with a lightning storm. You bastard. Just kidding kissy kiss kiss. (punch) Wish you were coming to Ernie’s shindig but it *was* really good catching up with you tonight. You’re just way way way much funnier in person than your blog would ever reveal You still owe me sushi though. (Aren’t I a stinker of a grudge keeping Korean chick?)

Min Jung

11/11/01

Now THIS is the last binary date of the year. Few people always notice these things but the way my mind meanders and skips about,that was the first thought of my little nugget this morning when i hit the alarm at 10:01. I’m weird that way.

I almost miss the period in my life where I used to see everything in terms of mathmatical equations and calculations. Everything seemed clear and true. There was no lying in arithmetic. There was no deviation from absolute truth and accuracy. And then that part of my brain broke as did all affinity and aspirations for mathmatical or scientific pursuit. The reasons, well, there were a few conspiring factors. The first of which was a cackling math teacher named Forintos who waddled and cackled like the Marvel villain “The Penguin.” The next was an inability to reconcile the perfection of math calculations and proofs versus what I felt to be the absolute imperfection of my life.

I was a 17 year old dork.
My world consisted of a guilt stupefying mother, an emotionally absent father, a brother who could do no wrong, and breasts that refused to admit that they existed. It was dismal. Senior year in high school, one hopes, is the time when life is perfect. The only worries for the students of my school involved spring break plans and what kind of prom dress they were going to get. These were followed up by the meager challenges of scheduling graduation parties and deciding which which college to party at for the next 4 years. I was also a virgin. Worse than that, I’d never been kissed. All I wanted to feel was the glory of my youth and it’s amazing possibilities. To feel beautiful, the focus of attention, a princess that had finally bloomed from the scrawny duckling.

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Harsh reality who?
Harsh reality, this is no fucking joke, got it?

Instead, I felt locked inside a thorny little box that I couldn’t get out of. And every whimsical desire I had was selfish and cruel. My summer and afterschool jobs had saved me enough money to go on spring break in South Carolina with some girlfriends. Plans were made, giggles and whispers, phone calls, swimsuit shopping, etc. I desperately looked forward to that one week, where I would be allowed to escape my life and be someone else. Maybe even get kissed. These were my silly notions. What do you expect, I was 17.

My mother was re-hospitalized the week before my spring break and though I offered to cancel, my parents insisted that I go. I think they knew. The first night there, I declined getting drunk with the other girls. I danced with them, talked with boys with them, etc, but still felt detatched and very cold inside. One of the days there, I walked out to the beach alone, and cried long and hard with my sunburnt knees ground into the sand. Later that week I literally tripped over a tall tannedtennis player on the night of my birthday. He kissed me on the cheek with a birthday wish. I was disappointed to notice that his kiss felt somehow very cheap and tinny. The rest of the trip was unremarkable.

After returning to MI, I was back at work, trying to retain a sense of normalcy. Junior year I took my AP Bio & Euro exams. Senior year my AP Chem class was held in conjunction with University of Detroit so I had the credits secured for college there. The last of the AP exams was in Calculus, which, based on my academic background, should have been a piece of cake. Had I been in my classes. In the end, I shouldn’t have even graduated, having missed weeks of school to help at home, my dad’s store so he could be at the hospital, or just keeping house in a home that started to smell like stale dust, medicines, and utter stillness.

Susie, the competitive brat who had irritated me through every semester by keeping the same academic tract as myself, was there on one of those days that I was back in classes. I was just trying to behave normally. But I think I’d forgotten what that was like. While Sr. HangingJowels collected papers for registering for the AP Calc exam, I sat still, slouching into my seat. Susie glared at me, “Aren’t you taking it?”. “No.” “Why not, can’t keep up?”. “No.” “Then what?” “Because my Mom is dying (you bitch.)”After that Susie never spoke to me. No loss.

Prom came & went. I didn’t go by any conventional means. Dad asked me not to go. I conceded. Guyfriend1 took me out for dinner as consolation and we talked smack. Lots & lots of it. Then we called up Guyfriends 2 & 3 to join us. We then went down to the Rennaissance center of Detroit, where my prom was being held, and lied to the series of security guards as to our purpose for being there.

“Hi, um, I’m Sony Yamaguchi, part of the yearbook crew for Mercy’s prom.. um.. .yeah, that’s why we’re not dressed up… um… and our camera equipment is in the car, we’re runnign late, these guys are my assistants, um… where’s mercy’s prom? We’re running late and we need to get a sense of the layout before bringing our equipment up? Oh, you need me to sign in? Um.. sure…I can spell that out for you S-O-N-Y Y-A-M-A-G-U-C-H-I.”

After eating all the desserts in the kitchen, and humming the theme to Mission Impossible, we made our grand crashing entrance to the prom. Did I fail to mention we were in jeans? And oh yeah, we got thrown out. But not before we’d made our mark on the parfaits.

After that we pranked some folks we knew, stole roadsigns, and laughed hard enough to cause hiccups. It was the first honest laugh I’d had in months and it felt good. The lie, I remember fondly as my first big wopper of a lie and I was rather proud that I pulled it off.

I was fortunate to have those good friends, the same ones whom I’d crashed my prom with, crash my graduation, hold up the procession line to hand me cards and hugs. The illogical in me still struggled to find mathmatical logic to the sequence of events in my life that year. Mum, she died 3 days after giving me her wedding ring. 10 days after my graduation. 40 days after my 18th birthday. Still it didn’t make sense to me. And that was nearly 10 years ago. The logic of numbers had grown quite dull to me and I’d lost that zeal for completion, truth, and purity in mathmatics.
I failed.

I turned to words and their clumsy, clunky expression of ambiguity. Words didn’t have to make sense. And that was beautiful. They could be tangled. They could be true or near truths, half truths, white lies, boldfaced lies, or worse. And all at the same time. Words were just as they were, without having to be a single answer forever and ever. Even the words “The End” lacked the finality and absolute assertion that math did, and to that, I found complicity and comfort.

So please, don’t ask me to calculate your tax and tip. I’ll fail miserably but will write a few lines of poetry on your reciept.

Poetica Spontenaum (Fake Latin, I know)
I left you a kiss
But you won’t see it
Until you flip open
the cover
of your paper matchbook

As you burn each one
match by match
bent
broke,
Remembering the wine
shadow of my lips
singed slightly
and tasting of smoke.

As you strike
the red tip to black strip
On the back
will you scar your fingers?
Will you blow away
Shake out the flame
Casting them out your car window
Will you do that with the cinders?

Or will you
like me,
place the firey tip
on the wet hollow of your tongue
and kiss.

In Other News (Decidedly Less Somber)
I am finally quitting smoking. No really. Yesterday I smoked my last one. No. REALLY. Today, I started on the nicorette gum which tastes like ass but does stave away the cravings a bit. Wish me luck.

Also, while brunching with Annie we came up with an interesting product idea for the single chick.
And no, it doesn’t vibrate, though that is an accesory option.

Sometimes a woman just doesn’t want to sleep alone. They want someone big and warm there to put their feet on, or to hold, but won’t snore, cheat on them, or talk in the middle of Sex in the City. Wouldn’t it be great if you could have a big, warm body pillow with an arm that could sweep over you to make you feel held. It really only needs one arm to simulate “being held” since the other arm is pretty much useless anyway when it comes to sleeping with a real boy, and maybe it could be like one of those microwavable sobakawa buckwheat pillow things that you can heat up in the microwave. And oh yea, wouldn’t it be great if it had a heated enveloping pocket like thing, fuzzy, furry, or downy that you could tuck your feet into? (Upon further discussion, I guess it sounds like a big warm vagina for your feet). And oh yeah, another little pocket where it could have a vibrating accessory? Remote control operated perhaps? Wouldn’t that be cool? Nifty? It could come in a whole variety of colors, patterns, & fabrics or have a whole seperate duvet cover type thing to coordinate with your bedspread…Wouldn’t you want one if you were single or newly single and couldn’;t sleep without feeling something warm next to you at night? Huh? No? Sounds crack headed? Uh…ok, never mind.

Ernie’s birthday is less than a week away.
Ritchie & I are working on a *ROAST* for him so if you have photos, stories, tributes, etc, please send em our way.