My parents are very cute Korean seniors in their sixties who laugh and experience befuddlement quite easily. My mother is good-looking and looks at least 10 years younger than her age, and my dad is like an eight-year-old boy. If you remind them, they will get you a nice birthday gift. They’re also good for a free meal once in a while, though it will have to be at a Korean restaurant, because God forbid, they eat anything other than Korean.
I have just moved them from New Jersey to Brooklyn, to change the two hour distance between us to twenty minutes, mostly so I can keep a better eye on them, but this move is a freaking albatross-fog-monster-swamp-thing experience. Every time I think I’m done, something pulls me back in, and so I’m just posting this for a mental break. Take them, go ahead. They’re free. Their car, however, a 2002 Toyota Camry with 37,000 miles on it, I’m trying to sell for a wad of cash. Since the only people who know about this site are my cousins Ed and Aimee, I don’t think I will offers here. But a girl can always dream.
Hi, I’m going to be David Meth’s play “9/12” at the Culture Project as part of the THAW citywide festival. At the Culture Project, it’s part of the Impact Theater festival. Look at the cool art! 9/12 art It’ll be at 7 p.m. Sept. 25th, 2006. Go to www.cultureproject.org for more info.
July 24, 2006, The Drama bookshop in Manhattan, 8:30 p.m. Here’s the link for more info. http://writersworking.blogspot.com/
I think there’s nothing like the fear of looking like an *ss in public to whip your stories in shape. Oh, and someone else at my office asked me I was pregnant on Friday. AWESOME.
This is not new advice. We’ve all heard it and follow it, unless you work in my office. I’ve been asked by three people at work “Are you pregnant?” “No, I’m not pregnant. I’m just fat.” “Is there something you’re not telling me?” “Am I sure? I sit at a desk for nine hours a day, stuffing myself with pastries leftover from meetings that lie around the office in order to quell my anxiety and boredom.” “Are you sure?” People, as one of my peers says, don’t ask a woman that question unless she’s on the ground, flat on her back, actually in throes of a contraction in front of you.
Is there a reason why people are asking me this? Is this to build my character? It’s not like I secretly think I’m a supermodel. And wouldn’t I know if I were pregnant? Don’t you get the willies or something? But then again, with my spacey mental state, maybe I am pregnant and don’t know it.
I’m learning through the kindness of my cousin Ed to put together a web site that will stop my family bursting out into laughter when they come visit. Wish me luck.