I'm a Believer!

The Apprentice is one of my favourite shows. It's awesome because it makes New York look like a playground.

School is slowly coming to an end and yet I'm still internship-less. I've decided to take this summer semester off from school. I think it'd be a great time to use these four months to go out and really chase after my goals. A marketing gig, an assistant at an advertising agency, working behind the scenes at a television studio, office bitch--something along the lines of my career aspirations in marketing/advertising/coffee-fetching/acting would be ideal. But now I have to fix up my resume, CV, and cover letters. Yes, I'm quite behind, I'm aware. For any of my coworkers reading this: Yes, I do intend on taking a momentary (or eternal) break from my job as a stock boy/cashier this summer. Quick! Inform management that Jacky intends on leaving. That'll probably be easier than having that awkward conversation about wanting to eventually leave. I can't believe I just wrote that. I do have a few gossipy coworkers who read this influential blog. I don't care! What? You expect me to stock condoms forever?--I'm chasing after my dreams and you ain't gonna stop me! I'm a Believer! Don't stop, belieeeeving! Everybody loves a good Journey reference.

Going away to New York just sounds exciting. I want to spend $7000 on overly expensive rent. I want to meet people from the Bronx who say cwoffee instead of coffee, or siggs instead of cigarettes. I want to be that guy who rescues drunken people from subway trains. I want to get mono from making-out with classy hobos after a drunken night at some dirty joint. I want the full New York experience! Let me tell you, when I get my Bachelors of Commerce degree, I'm flooding the post office with resumes to New York. Once I find a job that pays well and makes my penis twitch, I'm boarding a red-eye straight to New York. I want to be woken up every morning at 4 a.m. by my alcoholic boss. I want to (at least once in my life) get mugged for wearing my iPod's white headphones. I want to go shopping on the weekends at vintage stores to look like a garbage man wannabe-hipster. Just joking...no I'm not.

Since I'm addressing vintage shops, let me elaborate. A lot of people think it's so fashion-forward shopping at secondhand stores. They walk around in their 10-year-old plaid shirts they bought for $3 and their worn-in jeans they got for $7. I think they look dirty. I'm not saying they are dirty, cause I'm sure they've washed the clothes before wearing them, right? I'm just saying they look like they've been rolling around in dirt. And the oversized-80's T-shirt isn't cool--some obese guy with a pizza-problem donated that!
"I want to look vintage thrifty. Not dumpster thrifty," a friend once said as she intends to scour all the vintage shops of New York one day.
Listen, I'm all for consignment, thrift and secondhand shops. I think they're a great idea, especially the non-profit organizations like The Salvation Army. I'm not talking about the stigma people carry around for shopping at Value Village. I'm talking about people who think they look great wearing vintage from head-to-toe when really, they look like they quickly grabbed the fabric they use for their dog's bedding to wear as they rushed out the door...whilst looking for breakfast in the dumpster (HA HA!). But heck, what do I know about fashion?
I made the mistake in first-year college telling my whole marketing class about my cheapness and ended up embarrassing myself.

Marketing prof (MP): So why do people buy things endorsed by celebrites?
Me: Because celebrities are in the spotlight and people look up to them and want to be them. For example, some people buy clothes just because some actress wore them in an ad campaign.
MP: Correct. *looks underneath the table*. Jacky, you're wearing jeans. Where did you buy them?
Me: Oh, I'm not an example of celebrity endorsement. But umm, my jeans were from The Gap.
MP: How much did you buy them for?
Me: $22. They were on sale =)

I was so proud of my great find until Mr. Metrosexual behind me screams out, "$22?! My 'True Religions' costs at least $300!". Good for you, fashionista. Now fuck you and go to hell--bring my jeans with you, I don't want them anymore.

[Now, back to the internship...]

"A Poet's Walk" by Henri Silberman. The poster I have in my room.

Whenever I tell someone about my plans in New York. They automatically jump to an accusatory statement, "You're wanting to become the male version of Whitney Port or Lauren Conrad from The Hills?!" I've even had people ask me if I wanted to become the next Sarah Jessica Parker!

Hold your horses. I'm a little frustrated with this. Not because people ask if my role models are fictional TV characters. But I'm more frustrated at the fact that New York is associated with lame MTV and HBO shows. No, I don't want to become the next Whitney or LC. I don't intend on working in fashion at all. And no, I don't want to become a fulltime hoebag/columnist. I'm in advertising and I'm an actor. I'm a Believer!
Ask anyone from high school who I've had intimate chats (and romps) with, they know how much I want to screw-around with New York. Tickle her a little bit, snuggle up by the warm fire, perhaps even nibble the ears...I have a poster of Central Park by my bed ("A Poet's Walk by Henri Silberman). Why? Cause I wanna do New York!
Any marketing firms out there who want a bitch? I'll be yours.

[pictures courtesy of MTV, HBO, NBC, Henri Silberman, and The Salvation Army]

I've Brought SexyBack

This new year, I decided to be proactive and take initiative towards my dreams. I listed out a set of goals. Things such as, "lose virginity" or "spank any girl wearing blue jeans on Tuesdays and Fridays". So in January, I started going after one of my most passionate desires. To become an exotic dancer. Done.

Next, was to start acting. If you read my blog, you would know how I feel about acting. It's something I've always wanted to get into. 

To jump-start this interest, I would have to find myself an agent--a principal agent to be exact. These are the people who get actors into auditions for commercials or television shows. But before getting signed, I really needed to perfect my art. No agent is going to sign talent without any experience (high school plays apparently don't count in the 'real world'). And even if you do get signed, you must feel absolutely confident in the audition room. 

So I enrolled in acting classes at a local studio. This class was quite interesting. We talked a lot more than act. Hours of text analysis. "What is she trying to evoke when she says 'I'm hungry'". We also talked A LOT about our emotions as well. "So, how did you feel when your father told you you were a mistake?" Every week, I felt like I was sitting in the audience of a Dr. Phil taping. I plan on taking more classes after final exams are finished.

If you remember, I also did some extras' work in the past. Becoming an extra really doesn't require any acting experience. They're always looking for losers extras to "dance around as if you're in a concert" or "walk around the coffee shop, then walk towards the door, and count 10 seconds, come back in but walk like you're from the ghetto".

Extras' work can be quite fun. There's a lot of waiting though. 13-hour days sitting on broken chairs, staring at our "Kraft services" consisting of month-old trail mix. Some extras enjoy those 13-hour days where they just sit in the tents reading. I guess this could be an example of "easy money." But I don't know how anyone can sit around for that many hours. Whenever the wranglers look for volunteers for a scene, my hands are the first to go up. I can't stay in that tent all day--I try to avoid the extras who offer me drugs and sexual favours. I also enjoy watching the production team work.

Although it's fun seeing myself as "a student rushing to class" on Psych, I think I'm done with extras' work.

Whenever I tell someone who's signed to a principal agent about extras' work, they always give me the same answer. "Stop it!" Rumor has it that once you start doing more and more extras' work, you'll be known as "the extra". As an aspiring actor (a real actor), I cannot be thought of as just an extra. I'm also the extra with the amazing flexibility. Or the extra who can fart with a snap of a finger.

This episode came out a few weeks ago. If you want to see my sexy back, check out 2:05 and you can see my in my grey, striped polo.

The last extras job I did was for The L Word. Season six, episode five, to be exact. This job lasted two days (13 hours each). A long day of sitting around and filming inside the "coffee shop". The next day, we had to come back wearing the exact same clothes. I had one specific job: come in through the entrance of the coffee shop just as one of the main characters (played by Leisha Hailey) rushes out the door in a PMS-fit. We filmed that scene quite a few times in different angles. Each time, she would ram her bony shoulder into my chest. Bitch really got into the scene.

Anyways, I've had a few friends give me the numbers to their agents and told me to phone them. "The easy way in." Problem is, I can never get a hold of the agents. Either they're so busy on the other line with casting directors or they're screening my call. I can just hear them saying to each other, "HAHA, look Dana, it's that 'JACKY CHUI' guy calling again. Let's just screen his call like we usually do." I'm going to keep trying. But in the meantime, any Vancouver agents looking for an obese, 20-year-old, 5'11, Chinese, male (occasionally drag) to be signed to their roster, please leave me a comment.

I'm tying to think positive and "attract" my goals towards me, but I have to be realistic too. In the entertainment industry, what's the probability that an actor would work full-time as an actor (especially since I'm Asian) in Hollywood. But yes, I am looking towards the positive because I am an optimistic person.  Acting is something I've always wanted to get into. But if it doesn't work out, I have many other interests and goals that I'm also pursuing and aspire to. For example, one of my fallbacks would be, as I've mentioned, my career in exotic dancing. They don't call me Banana Man for nothing.

Twitter Paparazzi

*tap tap tap...CRASH*

"Excuse me? You spilled coffee on me!"

That's a common line I hear on the daily. Why? 'Cuz I'm on frickin' Twitter! You try maintaining good posture with a 10-pound backpack attached to your shoulders all the while balancing a large double-double from Tim Hortons AND tweeting on your cellphone. For those of you who, by now, still scratch head when you hear about Twitter, well then let me give you a quick run-through of what it is. It's basically the "status updates" we have on Facebook. If you don't know what "Facebook" or "status updates" are, then you probably don't even know how you stumbled onto this page, correct? You were probably looking for nudes of Vanessa Hudgens, weren't you? I knew it. That's the page with the highest traffic on this blog. Everyone still wants a piece of Baby V and her...V. Click on the link above and you'll be redirected to a semi-nude Vanessa with Zac Efron crotch and nipple tassels.

I can't get enough of Twitter. I joined last month, and have been having a blast with it! Stalkers, feel free to follow me @jchui. It should ease the pain of my constant absence from blogging. If you want this relationship to go further, please e-mail. Romantic booty calls accepted.

Aside from school, I haven't done anything interesting. I've hardly been going out with my friends...because I don't have any friends. Twitter is my only buddy =(

jchui: is breathing like a gorilla. Damn allergies + constipation/bloated stomach. Laxative + antihistamine please.

Last week Friday, I was sitting at home at 5pm (see, told you I'm a loser) and preparing for my Calculus midterm. I walked out of my room to get a glass of water. As I looked outside, I saw four patrol cars right outside my house. What the hell? There was a young, shirtless man sitting on the floor, handcuffed, and bleeding all over his arms and stomach! Surrounding him was about 10 police officers (it looks like there's only four in the pictures above, but the other 6 were scattered around the street). They all stood there as if they were discussing the finale of The Bachelor: I mean, like, oh my gaw. Like totally! (in valley girl voice).
Was there ANOTHER shooting in Vancouver? (Vancouver has had some serious gun violence since January of this year. From my count, we've had about 35 shootings now). I call dibs on the production of CSI: Vancouver. So yes, needless to say I was crapping my pants when I saw the cops.

Did the young man get shot? Hmm... but victims of shootings aren't usually handcuffed, right? Unless he pulled the trigger on...himself? Anyways, the first thing I did was grab my BlackBerry and started snapping pictures.

I screamed out, "I'm gonna be rich and get instant Twitter recognition and finally have more than 25 followers!" to my sister who just looked at me with a blank stare and said, "What's Twitter?"

My neighbor walked by and I quickly ran outside to ask him what went down. He said the man had been stabbed! A stabbing? My quiet neighbourhood got action? That's more action than any one on my street has got in the past six months (I would know).

The next day I talked to another neighbour and he said police were trying to arrest the man. The man was running away and tried hiding in my neighbour's yard by submerging himself into the tall, wall of bushes--hence the reason he was bleeding all over; from scrapes and nicks--not a shooting and not a stabbing. Boring: no wonder this incident didn't even make headlines or get responses from my "live news coverage" on Twitter.

If I were to tell my friends about this, I'd probably change the story around. I'd say the young man's meth lab blew up. He was so devastated he decided to commit suicide by running around in only shorts outside in the freezing Vancouver cold. He went into my neighbour's garage, grabbed a bucket of paint wanting to disguise himself as the red Dr. Manhattan when the police arrived.

I have no clue how this last part came about. It's 3:20am and I'm still up having had my last midterm today (technically yesterday)--exhausted.

[pictures courtesy of Twitter and The Warren Report]