I’m rock at a bunch of things. Examples include (but are not limited to) :

- eating
- sleeping
- laughing like a hyena
- acting like someone half my age
- daydreaming

I’m good at some other things. These include (but are not limited to) :

- cooking
- not burning down my kitchen while cooking * knock on wood * – acting my age

I’m not so good at :

- knowing when someone is being Ninja Dater
- end of list. Haa haa haa

I suck at :

- packing. Aaagghh!!!! Packing is the ultimate spiny sea urchin on the ass of my existence right now. Ugh.

- assembling furniture. Don’t get me wrong. I can put stuff together. I just can’t promise anyone that whatever it is I’m building will stand and/or look like it’s supposed to. This includes myself because no matter how hard I try to fool myself into thinking I have mad epic carpentry skills, I can’t quite seem to believe myself.

- lifting heavy stuff.

- lifting stuff in general.

I’m a delicate Asian lotus blossom. Haa haa haa!!

Thank HEAVENS Clyde’s packing some muscles. He helped me move all the boxes from the garage and helped me move a bunch of stuff into my new apartment.

He even bought me dinner at Bon Chon! We ate like cavemen. Barney the Tapeworm was so happy.

Am I lucky or WHAT?! Jeezus…remember that song “Whatta Man”? Yup, that’s what I have.

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While I had every intention to update the blog during my vacation in Paris, things changed when I decided typing a lengthy entry via an iPhone touch screen just isn’t going to happen. So it will have to wait until I return next week. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this:

agh success! Sad to say, this little shit post took much longer than I would’ve liked. Technology is a bitch

Moving is a royal pain in my ass. I’ve been living in the same place for 10 years so I’ve accumulated a bunch of crap. Interestingly enough, the physical manifestation most of this stuff favored was in the form of shoes. Weird…

I’m so happy I’m not a pack rat. GOD, I’M SO HAPPY I’M NOT A PACK RAT!!

Well…I don’t think I am anyway. Time will tell when I’m desperately clearing out my microscopic room.

That’s another thing I’m grateful for. My room is smaller than most standard hotel rooms. This means I’m forced to carefully weigh how badly I want that tacky knick knack when I was in Mexico and wearing the most epic pair of tequila goggles.

I’m happy to say I won most of those battles. On the other hand, I’ve amassed a frighteningly large supply of Royal Carribean shot glasses. You know something’s up when your servers on a cruise give you all the martini glasses and shot glasses you and your girlfriends went through as a parting gift during the bachelorette party. Every night. Yeah….good times.

Over the next few days, I’ll be sorting through all my stuff in a full blown panic. Actually, this is a good thing because I’ll finally have no excuse to avoid clearing out my closet. Out with the old and all that stuff.

I’d say “You know what that means!!! Shooopping!!!” Oh, wow. That reminds me of that line in “White Chicks”. Friggin’ hilarious movie.

Ugh…

Oh hey. I just remembered something. The closet in my new apartment? Friggin’ HUGE!!! Oh yes…maybe I will go shopping…ehehehehe…

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. Omg, this song brings back some memories….like when this song used to traumatize me when I was 10 and I’d turn beet red whenever it came out on the radio. My mom would always switch to another radio station whenever this song came on. OoooOOOOoohhh….how things have changed….

I think my mom’s probably the most progressive woman not only of her generation but of all Asian women her generation. She’s so chill about everything….except when she’s blowing up my phone after midnight because she wants to know where I am, what I’m doing, who I’m with and what time I’m coming home. I’m always like “Aaargghh!! Mommy!! I’m 30! Relax!!” This happens every time she’s in LA or I’m in Hawaii or wherever it is she happens to be at. Jeezus….

Anyway. Back to why I’m grossed out. My sister, MiniMe, and I just finished an epic 2 hour conversation about why we love our mom but why sometimes she makes us want to throw up. So my mom knows I have a new boyfriend. She doesn’t say it but I know she’s waiting for me to introduce him to her. I know this because she goes “So when are you going to bring Clyde by the house so that I can meet him?”

Subtlety is something she doesn’t possess when it comes to her children.

I didn’t have a boyfriend from August 2006 till January 17th, 2010. That’s a long ass time. I wasn’t dating anyone or seeing anyone. I relished being alone. My mom was concerned but for the weirdest reason. The conversation is as follows :

Mom : Hey…are you working out?

Me : AAAAAGGGHHH!!!! OMFG!!! WTF DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT STUFF FROM YOU!!! AND HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX ANYWAY???!! YOU AND DADDY HAD ME BECAUSE YOU HELD HANDS AND THEN THE STORK CAME!! AND I DON’T WANT THAT KIND OF A FRIEND!!!

By this point, my mom thinks it’s hilarious that I’m gagging and trying not to spew my lunch all over the walls. She’s chasing me around the house as I’m desperately trying to find something to throw up into and she’s calling out after me “It’s natural! You’ll lose a lot of weight too! How do you think I got so skinny again after I had you?”

There are just some things you should never have to talk to your parents about once you hit a certain age. I’m all for having safe sex conversations with your children well before their hormones kick in and they start wanting to screw anything and everything that walks by. But I’m well beyond that age. I’ve gone back to thinking my parents had us via immaculate conception.

You can imagine my mom’s face when I walked in with a HUUUGE bag from Victoria’s Secret. I dropped $500 on a bunch of pretty things and my mom just gave me that grin. She has never reminded me more of the proverbial cat who ate the canary bird.

Good God….ugh….and now she’ll always ask me “Soooo…..did you have a good time with Clyde?”

I don’t know how to answer that because I don’t know what she’s getting at.

My mom’s finally figured out my kryptonite when it comes to her. All she needs to do to set me straight or make me toss my cookies is to start talking to me about sex. Ugh. *barf*

New year, new decade…

I have a wonderful boyfriend who I adore (luckily the feeling is mutual. Haa haa haa) AND I HAVE A NEW APARTMENT!!!

Someone pinch me because I’m afraid I’m dreaming.

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Winner of designer dud slinging Bluefly and all-things-hip StyleList ’s challenge where 8 tragically fashionable trendsetters are pitted against one another to style to the death with key pieces, Trang Huyen has emerged victorious as newly dubbed AMFB (AKA America’s Most Fashionable Blogger.)

Her signature is effortlessly chic coupled with bursts of DYI originality for a feminine, coquettish look with a hint of old Hollywood glamour. I am totally loving her looks.

Trang’s personal blog can be found at Behind the Seams

I like Conan. I really do. I have no idea wtf happened during that crazy week when everyone of you people on my twitter and Facebook were all TEAM CONAN. That was a week when my life was too crazy so I had little time to pay attention to other stuff….like….outside a 15 foot radius of my immediate physical presence.

So I understand Conan’s being pulled? Why? He’s so funny!!! So sad….I like him better than Jay who I like better than Dave “Mr. Worldwide Pants” Letterman.

Anyways…I hope Conan gets another show somewhere. I really like Triumph the Dog. I also like Conan. He’s crazy. Maybe that’s why I think he’s so funny….hm…..

Jacked this clip from FreshLA’s FB and damn….what an excellent way to show NBC how you really feel, Conan. Vengeance is best served hot, fast and with style.

I don’t know why this song makes me want to go into the kitchen and make something to eat. I think it’s all the references to sugar and candy and stuff.

I love to cook. Some people eat to live. I live to eat. That’s because I have Barney the Tapeworm to think about. You know how hard Clyde rocks my socks? He said he’ll never let Barney the Tapeworm get mad at me because I forgot to eat as long as he’s around. ….* dreamy sigh *….

Clyde has a sweet tooth. I know he likes chocolate. He likes milk chocolate. I loooooove dark chocolate. I decided I’m going to bake him cookies!!! I figured I could pick and choose which types of chocolate to use when I make these Double Chocolate Cookies.

Never mind I haven’t baked anything besides beer bread in years. It was fantastic. I just had to add butter and beer to this mix and let it do its thaaang in my oven. I don’t count the lasagna that I make because that’s not like making cookies or whatever. That’s like….layering a ton of fantastic savory goodness on top of each other….kind of like you’re building a really sloppy sandwich.

I make bomb lasagna. I bomb at making cookies.

The first and last time I ever tried to make cookies from scratch was during high school. It resulted in an Epic Fail. I couldn’t figure out the difference between melted butter and softened butter. I figured butter is butter so I nuked it in the microwave before adding it to the mix.

I dutifully followed the rest of the instructions, plopped little spoonfuls of the batter on a cooking sheet and hopped around my kitchen doing the Victory Dance complete with a war cry because I made cookies from scratch. I was a cookie baker virgin no more!!!

I still remember the name of those cookies. They’re called Snickerdoodles. I picked that recipe because it looked like the easiest one to make.

I was so excited when that damn buzzer thing went off but the excitement quickly turned into puzzlement. How come my cookies didn’t look like the recipe picture? Why was it one big friggin’ Snickerdoodle SHEET the size and shape of my cookie sheet?

I was so sad.

Dude, I can TOTALLY do this!! Now I know not to nuke butter unless the recipe tells me to. Got it.

Wait…what’s this thing about a mixing bowl and a beater? What the hell is that?! You can attach them together? How am I supposed to know when butter looks fluffy??

WHY WON’T THEY JUST LET ME NUKE THE DAMN BUTTER???!!!

* sigh *

I just wanted to make cookies from scratch for Clyde.

….maybe I should just stick to cookie dough mix for now until I figure out what the hell these recipes are telling me to do. I think that’d probably be the safest thing to do.

I’m not kidding. This song, “Staying Alive”, by the Bee Gees really does keep people alive. I like this song. Don’t ask me why.

I’m going to tell you what happened yesterday and you tell me what you think is going on.

Some say signs that show you’re doing it right are cracked ribs and bruised chests.

Watch out for the teeth. You don’t want to knock out the teeth.

Believe it or not, this was AAAAAALL part of class. No, it was not Sex Ed…although I swore if I closed my eyes, I was in the middle of a pr0n set.

What makes it even funnier is that the song you want to keep in mind while doing successful CPR is “Staying Alive”. It has 103 beats per minute which also happens to be what you’re aiming for when you’re doing compressions during
CPR.

I’ll actually be singing this song either in my head or muttered under my breath as I’m whaling on some guy’s chest during CPR. The irony does not escape me.

I’m in a specialized field which means I have to get recertified in the following every two years:

- ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Support)
- PALS (Pediatric Advanced Life Support)
- BLS (Basic Life Support aka CPR)

I’m usually dying in these classes because the guidelines haven’t changed that much since I became a nurse but this year was different. I think it’s because CookiePants went to class with me. We spent most of the class giggling like the dorks we are and trying not to laugh inappropriately when we heard all the “faster deeper harder” stuff.

We’re very mature. We were also whispering “That’s what she sed! That’s what he sed! Ahahahahaha!”

Yes. We’re very very very mature. We also save lives! w00t!!!

I think everyone should be at least BLS certified. I mean, you never know when someone needs help and you could be saving their life!! And just think about what a great story it’ll be when you’re trying to impress that certain special someone.

“Hey, baby. See this card? Yeah, girl. I’m certified to save lives and right now, I’m thinking of saving yours”.

…..okay, wow….that was horrifically bad. Coming up with those stupid pick up lines is hard!! Damn!!! I actually feel sorry for you guys now! Jeezus…

Or how about you just whip it out (the BLS card. Whoa there, big boy. Relax) and say “Me. You. Mouth to mouth. Now. I’m a traaaained professional, baby”.

Haa haa haa!!!! OMFG, I’d so die laughing if that ever happens….I’m soooo going to do this to Clyde when he comes back from his business trip.

So it’s a new year, a new decade and I’ve found a new cause…this is one that I hold very dear to my heart. Actually, I can’t exactly call it a “new cause” because my vote during Round One helped them receive $25,000 from Chase. That’s right, I helped make that happen with my one vote.

Center For The Pacific Asian Family.

At first, I had no idea what this CPAF thing was but I kept seeing it on Twitter and Facebook during my lunch break. I couldn’t figure out what it was because I was so tired from getting my ass handed back to me in the ICU that day. I kept trying to determine if it was some kind of weird diagnosis that I had forgotten since the Stone Ages of Nursing School since a lot of my friends on Facebook are people I work with.

Coronary Perfusion ….Abnormal….I dunno. I gave up.

I came home and found out via my preferred source of news (Facebook. Haa haa haa, just kidding. Kind of) what CPAF really stands for. I visited their site and was blown away by the kind of work they do.

I totally love this video. Danny Cho is the MAN!!! So funny. Miso in the bento box…ahahahaha!!

You know why I support CPAF? Words really can’t describe what I felt like when I read their mission statement. I also learned about the various forms and faces the Abuse can take and wear. There were times when I felt like they were talking to me. I wished I knew an organization like this existed back then.

I don’t know much about other cultures but growing up Asian, you learn not to talk about certain things. It’s shameful, it’s “bad”, it leaves you (and possibly your family) with no “face”.

So you learn to hide. You learn to develop your own mask to deal with whatever it was that happened. You learn to shake it off and carry on like nothing’s wrong all the while ignoring the crack that grows wider and wider within your very core.

You don’t know who to talk to. You don’t know where to go. You feel all alone, like no one understands you and you start thinking no one ever will. Either that or something else happens…they look at you with pity…as if you’re something they should feel sorry for.

Help and support….it’s out there and it’s name is CPAF.

O.O

Aaagggh!! Please don’t eat me!!! I already voted here!! ^_^

Our votes catapulted this amazing organization into the next round of competition.

Round One gave this amazing organization $25,000 to do their work in the community.

Round Two? The winner of Round Two receives $1 million.

You heard me. One. Million. Dollars.

Yeah. What Van Ness Wu said.

Again, like last month when I asked if you could spare just a few seconds to help our brave veterans, I’m humbly asking you for your time again.

This time, if you could please spend just 10 seconds to click here and vote. Those 10 seconds can bring CPAF that much closer towards winning this prize money.

Imagine how much hope you could help bring to a victim with just 10 seconds of your time.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,
Bonnie

p.s.

Here’s some funny goodness as a bonus. Danny Cho….hilarious….