Internet Dead Zone

This is commentary on how the summer seems to have put a lot of blogs, including ours, to a stand-still. I hope all our readers (...and writers) come back after summer's over!

Note: I'm Not Racist

Recently, I've made the terrible choice of watching Prince of Persia in theater. Why? Well, we went to the theater to watch Karate Kid (My boyfriend dragged me, I swear), but it was sold out. We debated over Get Him to the Greek and A Team, yet somehow we ended up buying tickets for this movie...

But I'm not writing this post as a review. I am simply commenting on how movies like this like to take a Caucasian actor, slap a stubble on his face and beads in his hair and call him Persian. Has all the Persian actors in the world been sucked into a black hole? If they have, I haven't heard anything about it.

The actors even have English accents in the film. I mean I'm sure Persians learned English from England, although I doubt in that time period.

This all reminded me of a movie I saw a while ago. Anyone remember 10,000 BC?

All the characters supposedly in a tribe in 10,000 BC were completely mixed in ethnicity. It was like a United Nations poster. Know how they made them all seem like they were the same? They all had dreadlocks.

I mean I know they can't all go as far as Mel Gibson had when he did Apocalypto or Passion of the Christ, but C'MON HOLLYWOOD! You could do better than that!



Although I'd like to note that Prince of Persia has pretty good graphic designers on their pay role.

May the Fourth Be With You, Followers!

Employees Must Wash Hands

There's a non-handwasher at work.  I run into her once in a while.  She'd be in a stall when I come into the bathroom.  And before I know it, she bolts out of there.  Without. Washing. Her. Hands.  At first, I thought I was mistaken.  Did I miss the running water?  Did she really leave without washing her hands?  After a few more chance encounters, I had no doubt in my mind.

My two co-workers and I were determined to find out the identity of the non-handwasher. Short of jumping out and going "AHA!" I didn't know how. She was a slippery one. The second I get into the stall, she runs out of there.

Finally, I got the perfect opportunity to catch her. I went to the bathroom and saw that another stall was occupied. As usual, she flushed and was on her way out. To her surprise, someone walks in at that moment. They exchange quick pleasantries, and the woman goes into the bathroom letting the non-handwasher escape. This was my opportunity. I had to ask her who she had just run into. I needed to know.  Luckily, I recognized my co-worker's shoes. When she came out of the stall, I excitedly asked her and got my answer! As you probably guessed, I was very proud of myself.  =)

Now we know the identity of the non-handwasher.  She is a temp at my office, probably in her early 20s.  She doesn't work in my department, but she sits on my side of the building on the same floor.  Now I know not to go near her or anything she touches.

This morning, she was in there again.  I knew it because she always uses the handicap stall, and no one else does.  But this time another person was in there too. She tried to make her escape, but the other person walked out of the stall at the exact same time.  Guess what happened!?!?

The non-handwasher was forced to wash her hands!!

In the afternoon, I had another encounter with her again. This time, I didn't hear any running water when she left. I mean, she obviously knows better. It's also obvious that she is embarrassed by her habit...considering she washed her hands when someone was in there.

I should put a sign up for her that says "Employees must wash hands." And tack it to the inside of the handicap stall.

Anyone Can Cook!

Chef Gusteau here sits on the windowsill in my kitchen.  When I'm at home cooking, he inspires me.  He reminds me, "Anyone can cook!"

But sometimes he gives me lip!

But he still does it with a smile.  The beautiful bastard.

Stranger Danger

There are so many wackos in the world. You can never be too cautious. Growing up, I didn't live in the best part of town. So my siblings and I stayed indoors a lot. We never ever spoke to strangers. We were never allowed in neighbors' homes. We stayed within a two-block radius of our house, which only included the library, the corner deli, and the train station. So I learned to be careful. To watch for suspicious people. To avoid dangerous situations.

Of course, I realize that makes me cynical too. I know it doesn't always make sense. I could be in the safest neighborhood, and I still won't walk through it by myself. After moving in the suburbs, I try not to think of everyone as a criminal or a crazy person. I try to let my guard down a little, so people don't think I'm the crazy person.

This morning, I was pulling out of my street, and this older gentlemen was crossing the intersection right in front of me. He saw me, and it looked like he had a question or something. I thought maybe he needed directions. He walked toward my window. I opened it, and now I realize perhaps a little too wide. Anyway, he asked me for a ride up the street. I wasn't prepared for that question. I was willing to answer a question, not let a total stranger into my car. He showed me his ID to demonstrate that he did in fact live in the area and wasn't, in his words, "a crazy person."

After looking at his ID, I wouldn't say I felt safer. I mean he could still be a crazy person but just happen to live near me. But I felt like I couldn't refuse. I didn't want to be mean, I guess. He seemed harmless enough. So he hopped in. He was friendly during the two-minute car ride. But the whole time, I was trying to watch the road while watching him. To make sure he didn't pull out some sort of weapon or try anything. That's how my mind works.

If he did try something, I don't know what I would have done. Probably karate chop his ass. Really. I don't know.

The ride was over in no time. Afterward, I couldn't help asking myself if it was worth the risk. If that was one of the stupidest things I could have done. I could have just refused and went on my way.

In the end, nothing happened. The world didn't end. I am sitting here safe. But I can't shake that feeling of what if.

Smelly Wax

I recently developed a random obsession with candles. What am I? In college again?? I never really liked them before. I don't know how it started. I first got one Yankee candle from Bed Bath and Beyond. Oooo, I have a million 20% off coupons. I should use them, I thought. I bought one that smelled like jasmine. And for the next couple of weeks, my house smelled like heaven. Then on Black Friday, I found a Yankee candle outlet store and bought two more candles. Since then, I've bought three more.

It's an addiction. I inhale deeply every time. It's my drug. Haha.

Caribbean Escape. Island Margarita. Juicy Watermelon. Midnight Jasmine. Those are all my candle scents. Don't they sound yummy? Like you wanna eat 'em.

Then, the black out happened during the last snow storm. And I actually needed all those candles. Haha. See! I was meant to buy all those ridiculously expensive and usually useless things. They were really handy at the time.

I should probably get my obsession out of the way before I have any kids. Because I probably shouldn't have open flame around babies. Right? I think I read that somewhere.

Home Sweet Home

I got caught with my pants down! Well, not literally. Huz's co-workers came over this weekend. And I wasn't thinking at all. Because the next minute, Huz's co-worker said, "It's still Christmas?"

OMG! The friggin' Christmas tree was up...and still is. I forget that people don't usually keep their tree up until February. So I didn't even notice...didn't even really think about it. How embarrassing.

Then immediately after that I started looking at my house as an outsider. Suddenly, all the mess and the flaws were highlighted for me. Here are the thoughts that ran through my head:

Oh, God, the coffee table is covered with crap. We are pigs!

Ahhh! The dining room isn't furnished, and we've lived here for two years. They must think we are weirdos.

We don't have any paintings or pictures up. Our house must look so dull and uninviting. Ugh!

Oh, crap, I left my feminine napkins out in the bathroom.

Ewww, my turtle tank needs to be cleaned...badly.

I'm not usually conscious of these things. I come home and go about my business. I tidy up but only one in a while. We have been thinking about furnishing the dining room and decorating our house for months. Keyword is "thinking." We just haven't gotten around to it.

Huz's co-workers didn't even go in the basement or upstairs. Thank goodness. In the basement, they would find Huz's hockey gear spread out on the floor getting aired out. Upstairs, they'd find our third bedroom empty except for a shelf and random boxes. And there are clothes (mostly Huz's) all over the floor of the master bedroom. *sheepish*

Even though our house isn't perfect. I still love it here. I feel comfortable here. It's the home that I share with the man that I love. Yeah, it needs some improvement. Hopefully, it'll happen soon. But until then, I'll continue enjoying my Christmas tree way past Christmas.

I Should Be a Freakin' Hand Model

Aren't my nails pureetttyy? Aren't my wedding rings blingin'?

I should be a hand model. Don't you agree??

I do exclusively french tip on my nails. Even when I was younger, I've always admired pretty manicured hands with french tip. I think it looks sophisticated. Don't you?

You may be surprised to know that my nails are real and that I did them myself. Yup, it's true. And no, I never worked at a nail salon or anything like that. I'm just very talented, ya know. ;)

You don't know how many times I find out that someone thinks my nails are fake. What? Really??

Well, I guess I am lucky. I have good nails. I get it from my mom.

I do have to admit something though. I'm surprised how nice my hands look in the pictures from my blackberry. You can't tell that they are dry as heck. Haha. I basically have crocodile skin. Oh, well, at least my nails are pretty.

Bad Wifey Bad

Huz's birthday is tomorrow, and it just occurred to me today that I have to get him something. I friggin' suck. It's true that he told me not to get him anything this year. But but...I can't really do that, can I? The really bad part about this is not the fact that I will be empty handed tomorrow but rather the fact that I didn't even friggin' think of it until today.

What the hell happened to me? I used to be so good at birthdays. But fast forward through ten years of dating and two years of marriage, not so much anymore. Even a few years ago, I would have planned to make a really nice dinner with at least three courses. The present would have been tucked away somewhere for a couple months already, wrapped and ready to be opened. Instead, this year, no present, no dinner plans, nada. I didn't even think of the cake?!?! If you knew me, you'd know how important cake is to me on birthdays. Basically, the cake makes the birthday. I think it all stems from my childhood when all I got on my birthday was cake. And I even had to share mine with Tina. =p But I digress.

I had a day off today and went with Tina to Target. I was hoping I'll find something awesome for Huz there. Surprisingly, it turned up nothing. I don't know what I was expecting to find. Toothpaste? Socks? Beef jerky? Tempting...but no.

When I got home, I quickly confessed to Huz that I didn't have a present for him. He of course didn't care. But I care. Well, apparently, not enough to go to the mall and pick something up today. Tehe. Hey, I already admitted that I am a bad wifey.

Then I asked Huz what he wanted to do for dinner tomorrow, either dinner in or dinner out. But really, I didn't wanna cook. Not enough time to plan. No groceries. Too much effort. So when I asked, I made sure to make the me cooking option not so appealing. I asked Huz in the most excited voice I could muster, "So do you wanna go out to a nice restaurant for dinner tomorrow...like somewhere awesome where we can eat awesome food, and it'll be totally awesome?" Then I changed my tone completely and said in my most unenthused voice, "Or do you rather me cook? But I'm not sure what to make. And I didn't buy any groceries yet. And I won't get home until late tomorrow, so basically we'll be eating a crappy meal at 10pm? Whaddya say?" He picked dinner out, of course. Booyah! I am not only a bad wife but also manipulative...and a little proud of it.

Of course, I couldn't forget the cake. I was definitely going to make the effort there. I was planning on baking it and discussed it with Huz. Then somehow birthday cake turned into birthday brownies. Less work for me! Don't mind that!

Damn, I really am a bad wife.

Laura's Love Letter

Whenever my friends and I visit each others' rooms, we like to make the visitors create something for us to put up on our walls. Usually we draw each other things or cut out a snowflake, but this time I thought I'd do something different. Instead, I wrote her a love letter. I thought it was pretty silly and wasn't bad considering I wrote it on paper and wasn't able to backspace.

---------------------

To the love of my life,

My day is gray and cloudy

so sad and empty 'til I

hear my love; she's so rowdy.

I love your beautiful hair.

At your face, forever I can stare.

Oh, Kirsten, how I love thee.

I stare at thee whilst thou watches Glee.

Your beautiful lips of rose petal red.

I stroke thou lips whilst thou in bed.

Oh, Kirsten, how I love thee.

I only wish thou would notice me.

Her wondrous blue-green eyes that sparkle.

I passionately sketch them in charc(-o)le.

I leave traces of my hair in her food.

Doing this lightens my mood

knowing that a part of me

is inside thee

used as protein

for thou energy.

Oh, Kirsten, how I love thee.

With Obsession,

You Secret Admirer xoxo

Would You Date You?

I was listening to my usual morning show on the radio when the question "Would you date you?" came up. I thought that was an interesting question. So let's tackle that, people. Gimme your answers.

My answer is a resounding NO. Generally, I don't think two people who are exactly alike should be together. I just don't think it would work out. So me and me would not make a good couple. Here is what would happen:

Tara would meet Tara. She'll think "Wow, Tara is awesome. She's funny, outgoing, and HOT!" Then, Tara would ask Tara out on a date. Naturally, Tara would accept. Then months later, Tara's "good" qualities would become completely grating. Tara is too talkative and wouldn't shut up. Tara would become too smothery. They would fight constantly and try to yell over the other. Then they'd break up. Tara would never in her lifetime get over Tara because Tara is awesome!

Side note: I have never written my name that many times in one paragraph before. My name is starting to look and sound weird.

There are just things I do that would irritate even me. I can be really honest...okay, blunt. I can be whiny as hell. I can be really ADD...in middle of conversations. I can be excessively mushy to a point that make people want to vomit. So yeah, I don't think I can date me. There can only be one Tara in my life.

I don't know how Huz puts up with it. Hehe. He is a good man.

Yesterday, I asked Huz in all seriousness, "isn't it cute how obsessed I am with you?" He said, "Uh-huh." He loves it!!

I'm a Purist

I don't like ketchup. There, I said it. It's not that I dislike the taste of ketchup. I just prefer not to add it to everything I eat. I always tell people that I'm a purist. Well, only when it comes to food anyway.

I don't put ketchup on my fries or burgers or fried chicken or anything really. Okay, I make an exception once in a while, but not often. I know, I'm a big weirdo. But I like food the way it was intended. I want to taste my food, not the ketchup slathered on top. I am actually disgusted when people put ketchup on their cheesesteaks. They are good as is. How can you ruin it with ketchup? Patooey.

Wikipedia describes a purist as "one who desires that an item remain true to its essence and free from adulterating or diluting influences." That's me...a purist. I like the essence of my food untainted, thank you very much.

Essence...yum. Can't get enough essence, ya know what I mean?

Bad Boys with Layers

I was watching Glee a couple weeks ago--the episode where Noah sang "Sweet Caroline."


After watching his solo, I immediately texted Laura, "I am in love with the mohawk dude on Glee." She responded, "You love bad boys with layers." OMG, I totally do! She knows me so well. There's something about a bad boy. But give me a complicated bad boy, and I am there.

When I was watching Veronica Mars, I was completely enamored with Logan Echolls even before there was LoVe. At first I hated him because he was just plain mean. And then I learned more about him--that there was more to him than meets the eye. I began to soften but didn't know why. Then when I saw them kiss, I was practically giddy from excitement. He is the quintessential bad boy with layers. Love him.

On the other hand, I don't like pretty boys at all. Do you know what I mean by a "pretty boy"? Finn in Glee is a pretty boy and kinda looks like Chris Klein who is definitely a pretty boy. Duncan from Veronica Mars was more pretty than cute. Meh and meh. I just don't see it. The mohawk dude is way cuter. He just has to fix the hair. Who's with me? Anyone?

I made a comment to Huz that I don't like pretty boys. He feigned shock and said, "But I'm a pretty boy." Right, honey, right.

So what do you think? Bad boys or pretty boys?

Mean Dad

For some reason, Huz wants to be a mean dad. I am guessing he thinks it's the only way to prevent wild teenagers. Haha!

Once in a while he would tell me that he wants our future kids to be scared of him. His words, not mine. I usually let it go and just laugh. But when he said it again yesterday, I finally gave it to him straight. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Our kids would more likely crack up than shake in their little booties at Huz.

I'm like when have you yelled at anyone...like ever? He didn't have an answer to that one. He doesn't even yell when we argue. Then I asked him if he's ever even yelled at customer service on the phone. He responded that he never has. That was a revelation! I can't even count how many times I've done it. Hehe. Maybe I'm the bitch. I don't know.

I remember one time I let him call Verizon to correct a billing error. And you know what happened? Huz only got some of our money back! I didn't really think of it at the time. I just chalked it up to Verizon being dicks, but now I know that Huz didn't stick it to them like he should have. I would have given them a piece of my mind, and it wouldn't have been pretty. However, Huz on the other hand is just too nice.

He got the point. But he wouldn't back down from his vision of being a scary dad. So he came up with a plan. He'll jump out of closets to scare them or spook them in other ways. That'll teach them. Ooookkkaayy.

Then Huz thought of an even better idea, or at least he thought so. He'll do what the dad in Arrested Development did and hire a one-armed man to teach his kids a lesson. For example, in the episode, the kids were getting rowdy in the car and won't quiet down. So the one-armed man jumps in front of the car, and his prosthetic arm falls off, completely freaking the kids out who thought it was a real arm. While the kids are screaming in the car, the guy tells them that's what they get for not listening to their father and keeping quiet in the car. Haha! Anyway, Huz said he would do that.

I guess that works...

Access Denied!

The absolute worse thing has happened!! I can't access my blog or any other blog for that matter at work. If I try, I get this abrupt page that says "Access Denied." I knew this was bound to happen, but I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

It all started about a month ago when people were complaining that the Internet was slow at work. After some investigation by IT, they figured out that there was limited bandwidth as a result of people accessing streaming media. The word "Facebook" was thrown around as well. As a solution, my firm cut off access to streaming media and for some reason online photo albums like Picasa. I learned to deal with it. But I wondered why the hell were people still allowed to use Facebook. I knew people who leave Facebook open all day long. And you know that Facebook is constantly reloading to get status updates and crap like that.

I was just waiting for the day to come that Facebook was no longer accessible. That day had come this week.

I laughed in those people's faces. Ha Ha, I said.

The following day, I tried to go on my blog. And access was denied!! Turns out that along with Facebook, we could no longer visit any social networking sites or personal websites! Ahhh! The woe that is me.

That means I can't comment back to people during the day. Worst of all, when I am bored I can't check my favorite blogs. It's probably for the best. But I don't have to like it.

P.S. On an unrelated note, which I didn't think deserved a whole blog post, I read that Miley Cyrus was voted the worst influence in an internet poll by tweens and teenagers. Haha! Maybe because she made fun of Chinese people. She deserves it. What an idiot. And her song "Party in the USA" is fuggin' crap. Yeah, I said it. It doesn't even make any sense.

P.P.S. What do you think about the word "fuggin'"? I like it.

Free Legal Service, Anyone?

Immediately after I passed the bar, my family and friends ask me for legal advice all the time. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind helping people out. I usually get questions about contracts, personal injury, or real estate. I give them my advice and then explain that it's not really my area and that they should probably get a lawyer.

So anyway, my mom asks me questions all the time. She calls me her "little lawyer." =p I've read contracts for her or gave her advice to help her friends out. Today, I got a text from her. Here it is:

Mom: My little lawyer, what does "you can depend on the trust of the collective" mean?
Me: Where'd you get this from?
Mom: From fortune cookie.

This is why I got my degree. To help interpret my mom's fortune cookies. Awesome.

Disclaimer: This post is not an advertisement. I will not be giving you free legal services. Sorry.

I Need More Girlfriends

All through high school, college, three years of work, and then graduate school, I hung out with mostly guys to Huz's chagrin. Haha. No, it didn't really bother him. I felt I relate most with men because they are simple, laid back creatures. I don't have to deal with backstabbing or cattiness. Cliche, I know. But that was what I thought. Plus in those days, I wasn't looking for a BFF. I already had a best friend to whom I told my deepest darkest secrets, my twin. So I didn't really need girlfriends, or at least, I didn't think so.

Years later, I realize that I may have missed out. In all of those years, I became close friends with only a handful of girls. I have only one best girlfriend who isn't related to me, and she doesn't even live in my city. I need more girlfriends. I want to gossip with them and talk about fashion, shoes, men and, let's be honest, other women. I want to complain and vent about anything to girlfriends who will just listen without trying to fix my "problems." I want to have fabulous ladies' nights like on Sex in the City. I may have missed my chance. Now all I am left with are guy friends who don't want to do any of those things.

Well, I still count myself lucky because I get to do most of the girlfriend stuff with my sisters. But it's just not the same because Laura is 12 years younger than me, and Tina has two kids. Neither of them can really relate to my life right now. (I still love you!!) For some reason, I only came to this realization recently--that my life is a bit lacking in girlfriends. Hmmm...how do I solve this "problem"? Maybe my guy friends can help me.

Dear Prudence

I am a fan of Dear Prudence who gives advice on Slate.com. Usually when I read "Dear Abby"-type columns, I am interested in the questions more so than the answers. It's really people's problems that are more entertaining, and they are usually f#$ked up. However, with Dear Prudence, her answers are just as entertaining, and she says it like it is. She's awesome...especially when she yells at people. Haha! People with problems often think they are NOT the one with the problem. But Dear Prudence has no qualms correcting them.

Here are some good examples, which I will mostly paraphrase:

Q: My young kids accidentally smooshed their hamster, and I bought them a new one to protect them. Is it okay that I lied?

A: Your kids are not as stupid as you think they are. They know they killed the hamster. Now that you brought a new and live hamster home, they are doubly confused and think their hamster has "Wolverine-like" healing abilities. Tell them the truth and stop being stupid.

Q: I am infatuated with my wife's hot sister. I love my wife who just had our first child, but she is just not as sexy as her sister. I told my wife. "Now she feels I don't want her. She also doesn't think her sister would ever 'want' me (not sure how to take that one)." What should I do?

A: Don't tell your wife that you'd like to "bang her sister." Also, you need to forget about her sister and focus on your wife who just gave birth to your friggin' child and probably feels asexual right now. "You also seem to be insinuating that you're insulted that your wife thinks her sister is not interested in you. Which prompts some more advice: Grow up. You're an adult and a father, so stop acting like a horny teenager."

Q: My mother tells me that she sees my sister and her kids every day and does everything for them. However, I live far away and hardly see my mother. I feel jealous of my mother's involvement in my sister's life. Boohoo. Can I tell her to shut up about it?

A: Let's imagine the letter your sister might write to me: Please save me from my mother who won't leave me alone. She is great with my kids but drives me crazy. I wish I was my sister who is far away and can do whatever she pleases. So stop crying!

Awesome, right? People who write to Dear Prudence are going to get brutal honesty. Love it!

Recurring Dreams

I know you probably hate hearing about other people's dreams. I am not a big fan either. I have to really like you to sit there and listen to it. Like all dreams go, they make no sense and don't have an ending. I mean, people have to wake up some time. But I can't help but think "that's it!" Plus dreams are really only interesting to the person who had the dream. Am I right?

Huz loves to tell me about his dreams. Good thing I love him. So I listen, and often times, they are convoluted and really really really friggin' long. Usually with him, I think "wait, that's NOT it!" Add that to the fact that this usually happens in the morning when I am getting ready to go to work and am about to be late. Anyway, I'll try to spare you the Huz-style explanation of my dreams.

So I had one of my recurring dreams last night. In the dream, my turtle tank is filled with fish and other turtles. I put a baby shark in it too, and I realize my mistake when it ate another fish. I panic and run around the house looking for another container for the shark before he eats everything in the tank. By the time I find one, the tank is empty except for my turtle and the shark. Somehow, my turtle survives and is perched on his rock safe and sound. What does this mean? I have various versions of this dream. It's like I am really worried about my turtle or something...like he'll die on me. Weird, I know.

After I had this dream, I started thinking about my other recurring dreams. For instance, I sometimes dream that I am swimming in the deep ocean, and I am usually lost with no way back to land. The sea is dark and usually filled with creatures. Once I dreamt a killer whale was circling me. Another dream I have a lot is one where a lion is chasing me through my house. I just looked up what lions mean in dreams. It says: "To dream that you are attacked by a lion, indicates that you have many obstacles to overcome." Hmmm...okay.

(After adding all the images, I realized my weird dreams include a lot of animals. What's wrong with me? At first glance, this looks like a post about wild life. Hehe.)

Why do people have recurring dreams anyway? Pretty strange. Mine are really specific too. According to this website, recurring dreams reveal important information about yourself or problems that come back again and again that must be confronted and resolved. Interesting. I wonder what I am trying to tell myself. Don't get your turtle eaten or you will regret it. Will not put sharks in tank. Check. Thanks, self...you are so wise.

Anyway, I am interested in hearing about other people's recurring dreams. So spill it.