Blogspot, EVERYONE IS GONE FOR SPRING BREAK.

As this blog is a comprehensive narrative of my life, it's safe to assume that a lack of entries denotes that absolutely nothing has happened in my life in the few three weeks. Bimbos die and VA hospitals go unmanaged in the world outside, but in contrast, early March has been a personal statis for which Tony Kushner's angels would have sautéed their own wings to effect upon a world of progress. Ahem.

Oh, but I am being facetious! I am, as always, chock-full o' anecdotes--mostly about the weekends. Turns out employment makes longform partying (spreading the joy out over the week: Tuesdays are the new Thursdays are the new Fridays) impossible, so fun becomes condensed into those magical hours between 5PM Friday (assuming BossBoss decides to keep Sabbath) and 7:15 Monday. A badger must rend many of tunnels to find his quarry, and the weekend is one’s bloody ground squirrel after days of digging through the mud of employment. It’s ancient wisdom. I know—for I am Chinese.

So: I will detail my last two Saturdays. Booze notwithstanding, there will be no themes overarching the two. Pay me and I might consider trying to divine meaning from my pathetic social life—much too Carrie Bradshaw otherwise.

Item One: March 3rd

If Tony Kushner’s aforementioned angel (let’s call her Emma Thompson) tried to stop time’s militant march towards certain catastrophe, failed, and ended up accelerating the flow of time in a given town, you’d have Hoboken. It celebrates St. Patrick’s Day 2 weeks in advance (a good holiday approximation of catastrophe). Our lovely neighbor-upon-Hudson becomes an ocean of wasted sluts dotted by policemen bobbing gently on its green waves. The whole event has the feel of a forceful rebuke, as if the masses are saying “Fuck you, Gregorian Calendar. We can celebrate green leprechaun beer whenever we want.”

That Saturday I went to a party hosted by my co-worker Michelle. By coincidence, it was also St. Patrick’s Day themed. Although I had my concerns that it would be one of those famed Ivy-League clusterfucks (Omg, you were on the Princeton squash team!), it turned out to be quite fun. I met some super friendly people, for example Michelle’s on again off again manjunk, Will. Will has an ultrasound stimulator on his hand. He claims it’s to encourage bone growth after some undoubtedly awesome accident he had—probably whilst working for the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission. This employment status makes me suspicious that he’s not using the ultrasound as a weapon—disorienting dolphins competing for the East Coast’s limited supply of delicious mackerel. Management of aquaculture indeed! At one point we went on the roof to enjoy a 60 degree day. The brilliance of the sun caused my exposed forearms to glow with the pale halo usually attributed to Cate Blanchett under cinematic lighting. It’s significantly less sexy on me. Also: doobiez—my cheek muscles hurt for days from the laughter.

Item Two: March 10th

This party began, like all good ones do, with an internet banner ad about potato chips. J.Hart and S.Lim, dapper hosts, spent $20 and received a box filled with the following:

6 Bags of Flavored Potato Chips Unreleased to the General Public
1 CD of World Music (to be played in the background)
Instructions on Food and Drink Complimentary to the Chips in Question

Each bag of chips had a national theme to it (Chile, Jamaica, Aztec-Land) and was to be paired with food and drink brought by the guest. Thinking back on the experience, that party resembled a Chia Pet in a “just add people and booze” kind of way. At the end, we voted on which chip should be released into the fierce potato chip market. In that sense, the party was a focus group. We are all pawns of the corporations (but there was booze so who cares!?).

J.Hart's invitation threatened the well-being of our loved ones if we didn’t show up on time so, true to form, only the Asians showed up on time. Our people are, if nothing else, united in our punctuality (and love of Sanrio). I was supposed to bring gazpacho but freaked out after I realized that I didn’t own a blender. So instead I mixed some tomato paste and salsa together and called it a day. Other people put in relatively more effort—for the Thai chip compliment someone made a lemongrass-coconut soup and our last course was a risotto with shrimp on top. I had tons of fun, but more importantly, I picked up a lot of MySpace friends. Success!