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Name: Christine
Country: United States
State: California
Birthday: 6/8/1983
Gender: Female
Expertise: your mom, as well as my own :)
Message: message me
Member Since:
9/16/2002
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| Along with billions of people, I've caught Olympic fever long before the games even started. I've been anticipating it all: the amazing inhuman athleticism, the dramatic two minute news features with heartbreaking back stories that always make me cry my eyes out, and the splendor of the opening ceremonies. So far NBC and China have really delivered. The ceremonies were amazing. Seriously. And I've been forgoing sleep reading Inyo's live commentary on the archery competitions, secretly hoping she'll either say something ridiculously embarrassing or holler at her Ho!
And then there's Mr. freakin Phelps! This guy's quest to win 8 Gold in the Olympics is going to be such a great page turner once his story is written into history. The 4x100m free relay last night was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Probably one of the craziest come-backs I've ever witnessed, and I've never felt so electric from watching TV! (If you haven't seen the race yet, do yourself a favor and watch it at nbcolympics.com, then go check out inyo on the archery site :) )
Needless to say, this race had Jason and I on our feet, screaming like very big girls. We were howling, bellowing, high-fiving, stomping the ground and beating our chests. When we finally realized the US had indeed beat the shit-talking Frenchies and saw them turn primal:
 
... the testosterone radiated right to us as we mimicked their poses. Then Jason took it a little further, doing one of these Crotch Chops:
At first, I was slightly terrified at his sudden display of Neanderthal furor, but I quickly began chopping my crotch furiously with my arms as well. We proceeded to do this for a few good minutes as the race was replayed in slow motion from every angle. If there happened to be an unfortunate witness to this they might have seen something similar to this, but with more pizazz:
Needless to say, after the ebbing of the adrenaline in our bodies, we were slightly embarrassed.
(Oh, and finding the images for this post was an adventure in itself. At first, I had no idea the name of this wonderful wrestling move which has penetrated into the depths of American society. Google searches of "X on crotch" and "Arms hitting crotch" turned up some very interesting, un-postable image results. Thank goodness for the internet though, if you dig hard enough, you can find anything.)
For the last thrilling 24 hours, I'm so grateful to you Mr. Phelps, who filled my weekend with high blood pressure and soiled underwear as well as an eyeful of random people's crotches on google images. Thank you Mr. Phelps, Thank you!
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| Today an undergrad working in my lab was telling a group of us a story about how he and his dorm mates got wasted and he said something about "shotgunning beer." Immediately I made a disapproving face and said, "Why would any of you even have a gun in the first place!"
Little did I know that's slang for chugging beer.
Gosh, am I THAT uncool now?
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| So this is an entry weeks overdue, but life happens (drunk driving to be exact, I’ll have to explain in another entry). Apologies! (I’m really not that sorry, Inyo: the greatest non-xangan, xanga enthusiast ever)
I’m sure everyone on this continent has been exposed in some way to Rock Band / Guitar Hero fever. It’s quite an infectious game, really, as enthralling as this video illustrates: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHh8Aj2D_lk
Jason has been obsessive with the game, tirelessly trying to best his best score all the while attempting to look more “Rock” while doing so. Before you completely deride my boyfriend in your mind, in his own defense, ALL his co workers are just as consumed with the game, and have combined their powers together to form a company band, Hansen Med. (mmmBop). Weekend parties devoted to rock out sessions have been frequently filling our summer calendars.
A few weeks ago, we go to one of Jason’s coworker’s place in San Jose for a Battle of the Bands session in his backyard. It was shaping up to be a great night. The host and hostess set up a taco bar and delicious margaritas on tap, and we even brought a mini keg of Heineken.
As the jam session proceeded and alcoholic laced conversations progressed into foolish topics of mini-keg stands and such, we were startled by the sudden appearance of a rowdy, boisterous man standing on top of the garage roof. The (Caucasian) man (important fact to keep in mind), with rash vigor, jumps from the roof down into the backyard ungracefully, and being slightly rotund, rolls into the host’s car, then casually sits in an empty camping chair next to mine. Thinking this guy MUST be a friend with someone at the party, I introduce myself, to which he proceeds to let me know that he’s never played rock band, but apparently was the drummer of the band “Crazy Town.” You know, that one-hit wonder band that played the catchy song “Butterfly.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_pLeewYTys)
Now, I’m a sucker for anything even remotely related to fame. Remotely should be underlined. As you could expect, I’m incredibly excited about this. Eyes popping out, mouth gaping wide, drool leaking out of left corner of lips excited. But the other party patrons are not so convinced, and after realizing that no one at the party knows the guy, they politely ask him to leave. Rotund Caucasian man is unhappy about this, spouting strange threats like “Do you know I’m famous? Do you want me to tell you who I am? I know a lot of people in Chinatown” as he was escorted out.
We’re all dumbstruck by the event, and as soon as I get home, I immediately google Crazytown. Fact checking was a little easier than expected after seeing this:
With that said, I have to say I was fairly disappointed to find out this random stranger was no d-list celebrity, but in fact, just a crazy man wandering the usually quiet streets of San Jose. But this morning I was very pleased to find out that my bestest best friend In-Young has been chosen to blog on NBC.com about live footage of the archery competition in the Beijing Olympics in August (http://www.nbcolympics.com/archery/index.html)!! As I was telling her this morning, this is the probably the biggest thing to happen to someone one degree removed from myself!!!!!!!!!!!!
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| the 16 year old in me....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hz24GXK8Mn8
....can't stop peeing her pants!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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| This entry is either long overdue or pretty much was not realized until I spent a couple days with Inyo, who intermittently nagged me about breathing life into this dead journal of mine. If you can’t tell, that’s my way of “shouting out” to Ying Yang.
Somehow I managed to find a $300.00 flight from SFO to JFK, and if anyone’s done the cross-country trek, that’s a sweet bargain, maybe never to be found again. I’ve been really amped to not only see Inyo, but also visit my city from another mother, NYC. I knew the itinerary would look something like this: EAT, Lounge, DREAM about eating, Yelp new destination to satiate hunger, EAT, DRINK, EAT MORE, try to massage away the stomach cramps, SNACK. The trip was exactly that, and somehow we managed to get new haircuts as well.
So this vacation was satisfying as expected, but my flight home was a real trip. I think a combination of sleep deprivation, hunger, and melancholy from Big Apple withdrawal manifested in the most emotional 5 hours I’ve experienced in my life. I’m talking real highs (like the euphoria I felt when I realized Inyo packed me some fruit snacks and chex mix) and super lows. The lowest point was when I suddenly burst out crying after watching an emotional segment on the earthquake in China. If you know me, and know me well, you’re probably thinking “W-T-F.” I hear you.
At the end of the flight, my rainbow of emotions concentrated into disgust towards a rude 50-year-old woman sitting across the row, and the sentiment seemed to be shared by everyone within 3 rows proximity. The woman was full of complaints, and would frequently launch into angry tirades about the air being too cold or the wind being too gusty for her hair. When she turned her irritation towards her fellow passengers, people really let her have it. I couldn’t help but notice that after each complaint, she’d disappear into a bathroom stall, and would come back with a completely different hair style (she was definitely sporting wigs). Appropriately, her hair became progressively blonde, and her bangs shortened with each outburst.
I found myself reflecting back on the ridiculousness of the flight on my drive home (moments of introspection, also uncharacteristic of me…what’s going on!?!?!?), and I couldn’t help but think that maybe this change in the hair I wear is behind the strange outburst of ooey gooey feelings. With all this babble of change, I can’t help but notice the big changes in my life (personal, work, and ofcourse my hair) all seemingly converging into a concentrated point in time, but I think I’m finally letting it go and telling myself this: change is good.
Inyo might be a fan of this changed me, I’m sure right now she’s delighted after reading this, hoping this means I’m a more regular updater on this thing. Little does she know if she just siphoned off a small portion of her awesome granny’s homemade kimchi and sent it my way, I’d be easily inspired to become a more prolific xanga contributor.
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