February 2010


My friend Denise recommended that I see a movie, which she described as "the funniest movie ever." It's not a movie that's funny because it's witty or well written, but one of those movies that's so bad that it's good. Some of you might have seen this movie, and if you have, you know what I'm talking about. But if you haven't, then please go out and find The Room ASAP.

Now I have a friend who dated a film maker in college who made some pretty bad stuff. Pretty much everyone thought his work was a big joke and we couldn't wait to see this big pompous a-hole (he used to actually SAY that he was a creative genius) fall flat on his face (he did). But The Room... oh my god... this movie takes the cake. It makes this other guy's movies look like Gone with the Wind.

Check out my favorite clips from The Room here and here.

The guy with the long hair in both of the clips is Tommy Wiseau, who is the screenwriter, director, and protagonist. As you can see, the writing, directing, and acting is absolutely terrible. I mean, what's up with the first clip? I feel like I walked into a hurricane of non-sensical dialogue.

This film is pathetic for so many reasons I don't even know where to begin... but it's clear from this movie that at some point in his life, Tommy Wiseau was burned badly by a lady friend. The Room is his way of saying "Fell sawrry for me! I'm such a nice guy! Why was my ex girlfriend such a whore when I treated her like a princess! I DID NAWT DESERVE THIS! I DID NAWT!"

Anyway, definitely put this on your Netflix queue. It's one of the best terrible movies I've ever seen.



Do you ever have those simple, quiet moments to yourself where you start to contemplate where you are now, where you are going, and where you have come from? Well I have those often. I'm not sure if it's because I'm an only child or because it's in my nature, but I'm an incredibly pensive person. I like to have my alone time to think over things, which is why I don't mind doing errands or having lunch by myself. Personally, I don't understand people who need to have an entourage with them all of the time. In fact, I find it a little creepy and part of me wonders if these people are just incredibly insecure with themselves. I have the same theory about people who think that everyone should have a sibling, but I'll rant about that in another blog entry. For now, I'll tell you about how I felt yesterday as I was eating soup quietly to myself in the Met's staff cafeteria.

First of all, let me say that I wish that everyone could enjoy the Met's staff cafeteria at least once in their life. I know most people won't get to, so let me just tell you about it. The part of the cafeteria where you get all your food pretty much looks like any other cafeteria except this one is filled with some pretty awesome, inexpensive food (and not just inexpensive in NY terms... this is some of the cheapest prepared food I've ever seen anywhere in the States). For $1.72 you can get a small coup of Au Bon Pain Soup. You can upgrade to a medium cup of soup, a roll, and a fruit for $3.52. An entire lunch for under 4 dollars! They also have Sushi Wednesdays, which is on the pricier side, but considerably cheaper than anywhere else in Manhattan. Fridays are flatbread Fridays, where you can get a flat bread pizza with a side salad from anywhere between $4.48-5.38. There's also an "action station" which changes its menu every week. It often has stuff like Indian food, taco bar, wiener week (heehee), udon noodles- and most of the menus are under six dollars. Then of course they have a sandwich station, which I haven't tried yet, and also an entire area where they serve food for .32 an ounce. Anyway, you get the picture: a lot of options. You pay for your food, and you go into the dining areas. Most of the rooms are just your typical, well lit, open spaces with lots of tables but in one of the areas there's a pleasant fountain, which is always running, in the center of the room. Naturally, this is the most popular room.

I always take my lunch at 12 to get my food (I decided it's cheaper and less of a hassle for me to just buy a small cup of soup everyday rather than make my own sandwiches) so that I can sit in the fountain room. I look around and people seem oblivious to the fact that they are eating lunch in one of the best cafeterias I've ever seen inside one of the most prominent museums in the country. I wonder if they ever stop to consider how fortunate they are to be here- eating next to a fountain- and presumably doing what they love (the curators and researchers at least). All I know is that sometimes I still can't believe that I'm there.

And eating $1.72 Au Bon Pain soup, no less.



I dont' know why but on national holidays I feel like I should wake up super early and enjoy the day, even though I'm not necessarily sure what I should do with myself anyway. I also really enjoy sleeping in so why force this waking up early thing on myself?

Anyway, today I woke up at 10:30, which is perfect but I decided to go back to sleep b/c I kept having a series of vivid dreams revolving on unresolved conflicts and insecurities in my life. I kept wanting to go back to sleep to see if these various problems would get solved (also my legs hurt) but it ended up being kind of a waste of time. Oh well, what would I have done if I woke up at 10:30 anyway? Probably eat something, pet my bunny, and then take a nap. It all evens out in the end.



My dad wrote to me and told me that when he was in high school, Exxon, or some other oil company, came to his school to say that the tar in the beach area is from natural seepage. I'm not sure what my dad thinks of this but I guess that's a possibility- Los Angeles does have its own tar pits.

Today is Chinese New Year- the year of the tiger. GROWL! It also gives young ladies to buy new shoes, as one of my old roommates once told me. Apparently one is supposed to walk into the new year with new shoes so as to walk in fresh and ready. And what do you know? I need new shoes anyway.

It's also Valentine's Day, which you know I'm not a big fan of, but I think Edouard is trying to soften me up to it. This morning he woke me up with a huge box from San Francisco. It was filled with pounds of Ghiradelli Squares and a chocolate bar. It was a good way to wake up.

I guess I should reciprocate even though my credit card bill is uber high this month (thanks to plane tickets, save the date cards, other costs that don't usually show up on a monthly basis...) and I still think that Valentine's Day is a stupid excuse to jack up the price for dinner and chocolate souffle, but I know he would appreciate food. We already did a fancy dinner for his birthday, so you know what I"m thinking? Beers and a bloomin' onion from Outback Steakhouse.

Don't make fun of us. Sometimes we like to keep it simple.



So to clarify yesterday's comic... yes, L.A. beaches often result in hard, sticky tar at the bottom of your feet. I'm not sure why, but I was once told that it's related to distant off shore drilling and local refineries.

Blood seeping out of the pores of your skin: to this day I still can't explain it, but when I was in high school my friend and I were at the beach (lifegurad station #15, I think?) and realized after coming out of the water that our legs were bleeding... from every pore. Then our pores started to get this stingy sensation. Overall, not very pleasant but that was the only time I ever experienced that problem.


Happy birthday to Edouard who is turning 26 today.

I don't ever think about the fact that Edouard is 2 years younger than me. It's interesting how things work out- I always thought I would end up with someone older. I used to have an aversion to guys who were even a few months younger than me, because you know... the guy is supposed to be older than the girl. =P

No matter- I still look a lot younger than Edouard. Sometimes I act younger too!


Happy February!

For the past two weeks I've been spending my days at work, my evenings meeting wedding vendors, and my nights drawing comics. It's been a pretty full schedule.

I think most of the major wedding stuff is done though. I ended up booking the following: reception venue, church (this is for Edouard's Catholicness), DJ (also a good friend), photographer, and florist. It's all starting to fall together. The other major thing on my agenda is finding my dress, which is not easy because let me tell you, most people are going to look good in most wedding dresses. It's not exactly like shopping for jeans (though if this was my mom's wedding, it would be... in fact, she would probably wear jeans).

Working at the Met is still awesome. I get to see behind the scenes stuff regarding drama like the woman falling into the Picasso, and walk around the museum while it's closed, and eat at the staff cafeteria, which is not only a pleasant dining experience but also really cheap.

Going back to the woman falling into the Picasso thing...I noticed, while reading about it on the internet, that a lot of people think that the art on display in museums is not real- that no one would actually put precious works on the wall. I guess this kind of thinking explains why people don't seem to understand that you can't use flash photography or TOUCH the ARTWORK (or in some cases, fall into it).

People, everything you see on the wall or in a vitrine is real. If the wall label says it's from 1350, then it's from 1350. Do you really think that the museum has room to store the real objects if the ones out on display are indeed just copies? Let me tell you as someone who has seen many a museum storeroom, there's no possible way. There is a ton of objects placed in storage (except for the Egyptian collection at the Met where everything is out in the open in their "study rooms"). The objects that you're seeing out in the galleries are the real deal and they're usually the best stuff the museum has to offer. So please... be respectful of them.