SECRET AGENT

Porn, Slurpees and Calculus

2009-06-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

I just read this little article from The Daily Intel about a school that displayed porn to a bunch of kids during a screening of what was supposed to be Camp Rock, rather than...Camp Cock.

How could this have happened? I'm assuming one of the teachers who owns the DVD of Camp Rock also has the porno version (with ~~jizz~~ jazz hands, choreography and all!) and could have mistakenly swapped the two after a morning romp with her husband. Or what if one of the teens working behind the desk at the local Blockbuster switched the DVDs when one of the teachers went in to rent the movie? Or Ms. Janet could have left Camp Cock in the DVD player when she was watching it with gym teacher, Mr. Colton that one night she stayed behind to "mark" the fifth graders' vocab quizzes.

Either way, these kids are lucky--they got to watch 45 seconds of porn. When I was in kindergarten, I was forced to play with a guinea pig that I was allergic to.

I hated preschool. Where do all these cheerful people come from? I never slept during class naps. I remember laying on the dirty carpet not knowing what anyone was doing.
One time during Christmas, we were gathered all around the carpet and (once again for the millionth time that week) singing songs about Jesus when one of the three teachers accidentally stepped on my hand. I hardly felt it, but she was so apologetic. "Sorry, sorry, sorry", and then kissed my hand as if a kiss would heal it all. I remember feeling so uncomfortable after class from that moment of intimacy. It was like my hand had just been dipped in taint. I came home that day and went directly to the washroom to scrub my hands clean. I felt so ashamed that I even had to ask my nanny to wash-up with me. I blame this teacher for my present promiscuous ways.

Another abusive teacher was Mrs. Ratzlaff, who I had for kindergarten and the first grade. She was the worst of all. Here I was, totally petrified of all these new people (I started school mid-year, therefore my classmates were already friends with one another) and getting bullied by a middle-aged woman who prides herself in her shiny track-suits. Mrs. Ratzlaff never failed to remind me how rude I was (I believe she was taking out her racial anger on me). Every time I spoke to a Chinese classmate (because Chinese was the only language I could speak), she'd yell at me. "We're not in China! We're in Canada. Speak English."

But some of the most memorable moments was when I upset Mrs. Ratzlaff so much that she had to drag me to the principal's office by my hair (and sometimes ears). Illegal.
When I was young, I had a weird addiction to pinching my classmates' butts. I went around pinching but often not hurting anyone at all because some of them still wore diapers (Christina). I don't know why I did it. It was probably equivalent to a greeting--instead of saying "Hello! Good morning, how are you?" in my broken English, it was easier to pinch and then giggle by the corner. One day, Mrs. Ratzlaff got so sick of the complaints from other students about my touchy hands that she had to make an announcement to the class.
"Students! Listen. If Jacky has pinched you, I will let you pinch him back right now!"
And like a herd, all the students ran to me forming a giant circle pinching me--even students who I have never touched. I blame Mrs. Ratzlaff for my inability to commit to a relationship (because I am now abusive like Chris Brown).

Mr. Bodden was my seventh grade teacher, he was a man's man that didn't take crap from anyone. His tough persona often made us more afraid of him than listen when he tried explaining the rights and wrongs of the latest hockey plays (he was a huge hockey fan). There's been multiple times where he threw temper tantrums at us.

Ms. Hobbs was our school counselor and was liked by all of us because she was always nice and ~~bribed~~ awarded us with ~~dollar-store crap~~ gifts. I remember when Ms. Hobbs told us, "if you've been good for the week, I would take some of you to 7-11 and get you all a slurpee." We were twelve years old, the local 7-11 was right across the street, and slurpees costs $0.79. Whether she bought us a slurpee or not, we would have walked over there after school to get one anyway. So when Mr. Bodden told us about this "treat," one of my classmates made a very sarcastic "woopity doo" comment. Mr. Bodden lost it. He was so upset because we were unappreciative of the "nice gestures" from Ms. Hobbs that he started screaming at us. Not in a "you kids are spoiled" way, but like a coach would yell at a referee...and then he threw a math textbook against the wall. We had a very fun year because we'd be on our toes everyday waiting for one of us to say something that would piss him off. He somehow managed to get a vice-principal position at a nearby elementary school the next year. I blame Mr. Bodden for my inability to love calculus...and the dent in my wall.

[picture courtesy of Disney]

I'm a Believer!

2009-03-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-20T03:20:00.000-07:00

*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]

Do the Can-Can in San Fran.

2009-01-27T22:22:00.000-08:00

School has begun! As you have probably read in my last entry, I didn't have much of a life during the holidays. I was either working, or sleeping (because I was overworked). Even my vacation to San Francisco felt a little like manual labour (steep roads). Sometimes one just needs a couple of days to integrate their ass into their love seat, polish off a few buckets of Ben & Jerry's and scratch themselves in areas that are usually a primary hygienic concern during bath time. Unfortunately I did no such things.

The cool clothes Geoff, Scott and Ryan bought at Macy's!

School seems to be going good so far. My instructors are not the best, but I won't let that affect me from working my hardest this semester.

My Sociology teacher has pretty good ratings on RateMyProfessors.com but after meeting him, he seems pretty stuck-up and pretentious.

"I'm Dr. Robert Smith. Get used to calling me Dr. Smith or Robert. When I received my Ph.D, I lost the privilege of being called 'Mister'. So get used to it. In this course we will talk about sensitives issues. Some of the things we will mention might make you feel uncomfortable. But it's my job to make you all feel safe in this classroom. For example, we will examine the fascination of homosexuals and peep holes through bathroom stalls. We will examine that and how it relates to our society".

When I registered for an introductory sociology course, I did not know I signed up for this. This is just my elective!

Les Miserables...sans Nicky.

My statistics instructor, on the other hand, has no sexual desires. Instead she leads the class with her harsh Chinese accent. It's very distracting because I wouldn't understand what she's saying OR she would say something that doesn't make sense .You should hear her say "version."

"Who has dease virgin of da taxbuuk? Vee arr using da new virgin of da taxbuuk".
"How do we cunt dease numba for dease data-sat?"

<---Yes, we're all Asian, and we all look alike. That's why I made name tags for ya'll to differentiate. *Yawn and stretch* Not much has happened in these few weeks except for school and a bit of work. But anyway, let's backtrack and talk about our awesome trip to San Francisco.

When we left Vancouver, it was still snowing. We usually have a bit of snow during the winter (and it almost always misses the Christmas mark). But this year, it snowed way before Christmas and all throughout the holidays. Just when we thought it was warming up, the sky dumps another load on us. I tell ya, the sky works very similar to my bowel system (yes, I do crap snow). But anyway, we had a good couple of weeks without the cold. And just when we thought it was time to embrace, massage and erect the new season, yet another 10cm of snow fell from the heavens above last night. My back cannot handle anymore of this! My shoes have no traction and I always fall on my juicy-doubles. It's pretty embarrassing when I'm walking down the street and then suddenly break out into this weird dance move because I'm trying to regain the balance lost when I slipped on black ice. I do that dance on the daily.

But anyway, let's get back to our San Francisco story.

When we arrived (on the 31st), we spent a good amount of time dragging our luggage to the hotel. The subway took us to downtown San Fran, and our hotel was in downtown too, but trampling over drunk girls who were getting ready to booze up some more for the New Years was pretty difficult.
We didn't even attempt to get liquor since we're underage. At about 11:50pm, we went downstairs to the Union Square area where the majority of people were...doing nothing. It was just a bunch of drunk people screaming at the sky. No joke. The picture on the top left corner was taken during the NYE raucous. The rest of the pictures on that collage was taken on day 2, while we roamed the downtown streets bright and early (while everyone was still puking their guts out from the night before). We also found Tony Bennett's heart.

The pictures above were during our bike ride to the Golden Gate Bridge. It was pretty tough. It's not like Vancouver's Stanley Park where the trail is smooth and bumpless. This route was pretty steep. Nice view. Lots of tourists. Highlight of our trip.

And these are just some randoms of us having coffee, touching each other, and selling our bodies.

[pictures courtesy of Geoff, Scott and myself]

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-30T20:52:00.000-08:00

It's the holidays and what better way to reinforce Christmas tradition than to work customer service in retail.
I can't complain. I do need the extra cash. The money spent on Christmas gifts. The money being spent on tuition. The money being spent on textbooks!

Usually during the winter, a bunch of my friends and I will head up to Whistler for a ski trip. We've done it for two years now. But because none of us really did much planning this year, the resorts were either booked up or it would cost us a semester's tuition to book rooms at this time of year. So we thought it would be fun (and more worth it) to fly down to San Francisco on New Years Eve. Not sure what exactly we would be doing there. Unlike Canada, we're not of-age to drink, and so I'm assuming we'll have a very dry celebration. But heck, we're not ~~all~~ alcoholics. I'm sure we can manage a week without Mr. Jack Daniels.

I bought a new BlackBerry. The BlackBerry ~~Javelin~~ Curve 8900. I've been waiting a long time for this one. It's not as powerful as The Bold or The Storm, but you know what, the Bold is a little too chunky for me. A chunky fat-ass like myself won't look good with a chunkier phone. And I'm sorry (you can disagree with me all you want), but the Storm is a little gimmicky. Touch-screen? C'mon, are we really playing that game with Apple?

Apple will never be able to create what RIM has created, and RIM will never be able to create what Apple has created.
The bottom line is, both are totally different smart phones and should stop being compared. Whether you want a smart phone that's more of a gadget that can hold your collection of Rick Astley tunes or you need a device where you can (easily) stay connected by typing off an e-mail to a friend in a jiffy. Both are terrific devices. I just happened to choose the BlackBerry. I tell ya, once you go Black(Berry), you never go back. I've had mine since I was 18. Whenever I would go on BlackBerry-related forums or talk to people about wanting BlackBerrys, the oldies would be in disgust about someone who isn't working full time (in a job that requires stock-market jargon and marital infidelity) would want to use THEIR phone.
There's nothing wrong with the younger generation using a BlackBerry. Sure, not everyone has hundreds of e-mails to respond to every day, but some do. And some just like the device because they just like the device. If teens shouldn't be allowed to use a BlackBerry then why should adults be allowed to read Harry Potter or drink like college kids.

I remembered two years ago when I was shopping for my first BlackBerry, the sales rep at the Rogers Wireless store had his own BlackBerry 8700r toted in a leather case placed strategically on the hip of his flashy tore-up jeans. He did not speak much English (especially since we were in an all-Asian mall). After telling him I would like to purchase a BlackBerry and asking him to elaborate on voice and data plans, he interrupts me.

The picture above was taken during a family dinner of all the BlackBerrys I own. OK, I lie. The two 8800 models are not mine.

"Do you have lots e-mail to say?"
"No. But I..."
"..DEN HOW COME YOU WANT BLACKBLURRLY?! No lee-son (reason)!"
Way to use your excellent customer service skills, dude. It's not like your Taiwanese ass can read half of the junk-v!AGra-mail that you receive.

The amount of posts I've put out have declined immensely over the past months. It's not that I don't enjoy writing these entries, or making pen-pals, or hooking up with locals, or reading about your life. I do enjoy it all. I just have nothing to write on my blog.
STOP. I know what you're thinking. "Stop whining about having nothing to write!"
Go back and read my last few entries. They all say something like, "I know on the last entry I said I was gonna write more, but I have nothing to write!" And this time isn't any different.
During the month of October and November, it was pure midterms and assignments. After that, it was finals. The day after my last final, I got scheduled to work practically full-time. And it's not that I don't enjoy this busy lifestyle (trust me, I crave the life where I don't rest), but it'll be nice to see my friends more often too. I live on the other side of the city from the majority of my friends. I haven't seen a few of the really good ones for almost two months. It's sad. And for some reason, Vancouver's been snowing like crazy. We haven't had as much snow since the 60s! And for those ignorant Americans out there: No, not all Canadians live in igloos or eat beavers. The snow just hasn't helped with my reunion with my friends. But hey, if we don't see each other any time soon, I know I'll spend a good 96 hours with them when we're in San Francisco.

A few weeks ago, my mom's friend and her daughter, Wendy, came to visit us here in Vancouver from Sydney, Australia. On their stay here, I bombarded Wendy with a lot of stupid Australian questions.
"Are there really a bunch of kangaroos hoping around the city?"
"...uhmm, yeah. At the zoo."
Some of you may remember a few months back when I was on a crazy for the Australian bread spread, Vegemite--and of course I had to ask her about it. When I was on the journey looking for Vegemite in Vancouver, I read a lot about Tim Tams on forums as well They're apparently this magical biscuit from Australia. Like Vegemite, it's a staple item in everybody's pantry.
The other day a package came in our mail. What could it be? Well of course it's Vegemite and Tim Tams! Wendy and her family sent us a Christmas package. In the past, I've watched a lot of videos on YouTube on how to successfully do a "Tim Tam Slam". I can not even describe how awesome these things are. Eating them alone is a totally different (and equally perfect) experience than eating them as a "Slam". Try them.

Anyways, I hope to make more and more blog friends over the next few months of the New Year since a lot of my previous ones have stopped writing or no longer recognize who this sad little Asian boy is.
If I don't shoot out a post before January, well, Happy New Year!

Whereabouts R U?!

2008-12-09T13:21:00.000-08:00

At the Jason Mraz concert

I'm not dead. Just studying.
Be back soon.
Ciao.

Goodbye Wisdom, Hello Foolishness

2008-10-31T16:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I left school an hour early. I went home and ate everything and anything in sight because for the next few days, I'll be practicing the sacred art of Manorexia. I went to the dentist's office. I was told that I'm only getting one side of my wisdom teeth removed, for now. The top two are coming out relatively straight and he wanted to wait until both have sprouted through the gums before he removes them (apparently, it's easier). So he's only going tackle the bottom two. But he didn't want me to suffer, so he's only removing the left side first and waiting until it's healed to remove the right side.

Normally, when people get their wisdom teeth removed, their dentist will send them to a specialist to get them done. Over there, you'll get put under and in (what seems like) five minutes, you'll be out of the office. But my dentist feels confident that he can do mine in his very own office...without gas. I wasn't put under. He just froze my mouth with local anaesthetics.

My dentist wears some pretty old-school glasses. Usually when I get dental work done, I have a front-row view through his thick glasses--the view of hell. Anyways, he spent a great deal of time cutting through my gums. He kept talking to me too.

"Darn, this blade just isn't sharp anymore. It's a new one too. Gosh, that just goes to show..."
"What a tough sucker. I can't get it out."
"I have to clear out the gums to have a better view first..."

After another five minutes hearing him talking about his blunt blade, he gets through to my gums and all I see his is the suction tube looking mighty bloody. His gloves are bloody, his glasses were Pollock-ed up with saliva and blood. At this point I wanted to not hear what he and his assistant were talking about. So I held up my finger and said, "ayyyy!" (I was trying to say "wait", but with a half frozen mouth and my mouth open, I said "ayyy"). I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iPod. He continued drilling and yanking. Watching him with the pliers, rotating his wrist from side to side trying to rip out my tooth. Disturbing. Through all the drilling and my iPod playing "Septemeber", I heard his assitant say, "I'm going to gag". Very comforting.

He finally got it out. It was a traumatic experience. He used my face as a grip. He stretched the left side of my mouth open trying to yank out my tooth. Now it's all red like I had a bad windburn.

At 7:30pm, safe and sound at home, the anesthetics finally started to wear off and I felt the pain. I took my first T3, and another one at 10:30pm before I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain. T3s have no affect on me. I thought, "Wow. My mouth really hurts but what a good night of sleep. A few more hours until the start of a new day". I looked at my clock thinking it was 5am, but it was only 1:30am! Why does time pass by so slow? I spent the next 20 minutes in the bathroom rinsing my mouth and trying to throw up. I hate that metallic taste of blood and throughout the night, all I tasted was blood. I also kept having flashes of my dentist yanking at my tooth. Unfortunately, no physical regurgitation -- but I can assure you I puked out a lake in my head.

The next time I woke up was at 10am. And surprinsingly, 80% of the pain disappeared! I still felt a bit sore, but the pain's gone. Now, I'm just left with a really swollen face. I swear, there's a very big chance that I will NOT have the other side of my wisdom teeth taken out unless I'm put under. An awake operation is too traumatizing.

PS - I was determined to take photos during my procedure like the last time I got my cavaities filled. But, I was afraid that during the process, I might actually throw up when I saw the photos. Oh, and Happy Halloween?

I Got Dragged to a Celine Dion Concert...

2008-10-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

A concert attendee's evidence of the Celine Dion concert.

I would have wrote about this on the night it happened, but I had midterms to study for -- midterms that I didn't study for because I was at the damn Celine Dion concert!
On Monday night, I got home from school and decided to wind down. I turned off my daily workout DVDs (Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease), and devoured the last Halloween-sized Reese's peanut butter cup and went upstairs to my room to start studying for two midterms that I have on Wednesday. I changed, showered and right as I sat down at my desk, I got a call from my mom. She was at work. She tells me that our family-friend had two tickets to the Celine Dion concert (which was happening in two hours!) but couldn't make it. So they gave the tickets to my mom and she wanted me to attend it with her. My mom's a pretty big Celine fan. She's also never been to an English concert and was begging me to go with her. So I agreed...irritatedly.

Eiffel 65, Chumbawamba, and Lou Bega

Maybe if I was seven years old I would have went with a smile on my face. I have to admit, when I was young I'd listen to whatever my sisters were listening to, and Celine Dion's Falling Into You album was definitely one of our household's favorite. "All By Myself" held a special spot in my heart as my sisters would sing it to me (in unison) as they joked about my lack of friends. But after Titanic, and when Celine went hardcore showman at Las Vegas, my musical interests slowly shifted over to greater bands such as, Eiffel 65, Chumbawamba and of course, the best musical legend of all, Lou Bega.

GM Place. Pre-show. Yes, my seats were pretty bad...but why does it matter? I'm not a Celine Dion fan.

I set aside my Statistics textbook and put my street clothes back on. We thought it would be a bad idea to drive down to the concert because it'll probably be really busy. So we took public transit -- something my mom also hasn't done since 1995. Everyone was crammed outside the stadium waiting to get in. Even though it was 5 degrees-celsius outside in the cold, I felt extreme heat coming off these concert goers. Maybe it's cause they're all middle-aged women. The majority of the people were middle-aged women (and their husbands), 30 year old girls (and their sisters), and flamboyant men. I was pretty bitter to be dragged to this hell hole. I actually felt the menopausal energy vibing off these people and melting my already tiny brain.

Celine sounded terrific by the way. There's a reason she gets paid the amount she does. But it doesn't mean I enjoyed the show. So what if I cut a little girl's face with the edge of my Celine Dion poster that I bought at the merchandise stand, or who cares that I knocked over my coffee on the lady sitting in front of me while I was doing "the wave" with Margaret (the 60 year old sitting beside me) or who the heck even cares if I gave my mom a black eye as I was lipsynching and romantically moving along with Celine Dion to "The Power of Love." I did NOT enjoy the show, goddammit!

[pictures courtesy of Chumba, ABC News, Danceria and Boy_Wonder]

The Way I See It

2008-10-18T18:05:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to those of you who are still reading this deadbeat blog. I apologize for not updating it more frequently. I know I always come on here and say things like, "Sorry for not writing in such a long time". But to be honest, there's nothing that has happened (in my life) that would interest you. My life just isn't blogworthy. I live a boring life. Snaggle Tooth Sammie--the 70 year old man who lives down the block and looks through people's windows all day--has a more exciting life than I. My photographer-friend, Donna, is also away. She usually documents our weekly outings. So the next few entries may be lacking in exciting photos of us.

Before Thursday's Geography lab, I went to the men's room to relieve myself of the fifth cup of coffee I had that day. Look what I found. Just so you know, my penis is no joke. I know, it's a bit weird to be taking photos inside a washroom, but the four guys who ran out yelling homophobic slurs didn't seem to have a problem with it...I think.

Along with that expensive $4 coffee you buy at Starbucks, does anyone actually read the "The Way I See It" on the side of their lattes? There are little passages from influential people of our generation written on the side of Starbucks cups. Here's what #141 said:

I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just say, “Hi.” They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth that one word.

–Augusten Burroughs, Author of "Running with Scissors".

Every Monday and Thursday mornings, there's a sweet gingerly lady who says "good morning" to me. There I am, throwing around cuss words about how cold the weather has become whilst trying to untagle my iPod's earphones and throwing tantrums. The lady blows pass my negativitity and still says "Hello." My initial reaction was how lonely this lady may be. She must be so alone that she has to resort to people at the busstop to speak to someone. But then she did it again the next day. "Good morning! Going to school?" That's all she says. So then I started saying "hello" to her first. I'd arrive at the busstop anticipating to see her.

"Hello! Good morning. How are you?".
"Good good! And yourself? Going to school? Good!".

It's become a game waiting to see her every Monday and Thursday morning. She's just a very nice lady who likes to say "Hello" to her neighbours -- that's all. She doesn't carry on with the conversation, she just ends with a smile and looks away and continues waiting for the bus. She's not there to make friends with people at the busstop. She's just greeting and welcoming everyone to a new morning. And funnily, I almost always lose that morning grouch after exchanging words with her.

It's also funny (and coincidental) because on that same bus every Monday and Thursday, there's a bus driver I see every time as well. He also says "Good morning" followed by a wink. But along with his pride bracelet and rainbow pins he wears everyday, I think his morning greeting is a bit of a double entendre.

Anyways, I'm still studying midterms, so I apologize if i don't write back on your blogs.

The Darker (and dirtier) Side of Life

2008-09-22T20:41:00.000-07:00

On Mondays and Wednesdays -- the days I get off school at 3:30pm, I try to occupy a few hours by NOT spending time on the bus. 3:30pm, that's the prime time to find a bus full of high school students. Pedophiles rejoice!
Before arriving at my bus stop (that I get on from), it passes through my high school, and afterwards, another high school. I hate the bus enough, but when there's a bus full of people, it's even worst. Today, I decided to waste as much time as possible. I spent half an hour rewriting my chicken-scratch notes in the student's study area. I then made my way to the bank to deposit money and cheques that's been sitting in my drawer for weeks. I always go to the same bank branch to do business because it's close to my school...and there's a mall beside it.

I went into the mall afterwards to buy my fourth cup of purchased coffee of the day (I'm sick, I know). I also swung by the lottery kiosk to purchase a ticket in hopes of winning the $14 million jackpot so that I no longer have to take the bus or spend my Mondays and Wednesdays on the streets trying to avoid crowded busses.

In the process of trying to awaken my sleeping brain (caused by my statistics professor), I attended a therapy session -- retail thereapy, that is.

I went into this one store. I spent a good 30 minutes trying on a mass amount of jeans. I settled on a pair of Swedish jeans and a pair of German jeans. I was told not to wash my them for at least six months to keep the indigo glow. "It will be very individual. Your cell phone, your wallet, your keys. Everything in your pockets will leave a mark!" Attached to the pocket was a booklet on how to care for my new jeans! How the hell am I supposed to not wash these jeans for six months. I'm the master of washing clothes. I wash my jeans at least 3 times a month. This will be an interesting challenge.

Anyways, as I made my way to the checkout to use up my paycheque, the sales associate (who was also lugging around the "mass amount of jeans" that I tried on) slipped me a little note. The owner of the store was right beside us folding up clothes. In British Columbia, anyone older than 15, have to pay both taxes. Often you'll hear people buying clothes and asking for "one tax" because it's for "my 14 year old child"...when the clothes are clearly meant for a middle-aged woman.

Anyways, if you see a guy carrying a large backpack, wearing dark jeans, snarling at bus drivers and perfumed in a scent of tuna fish with dirty socks, you know you've found me.

Don the Geo Trip Bus Driver

2008-09-16T19:00:00.000-07:00

Don was a man of many personalities. Not once did we doubt he was a crazy fellow. He had a Santa Claus-like figure, but spat out words of poison -- words that wouldn't dare pass the gates of the North Pole.

In our senior year of high school, almost half of the graduating class went on the geography trip. A lot of people took geography for the soul purpose of the annual trip. My friends and I took geography in the eleventh grade but saved the trip until our last year just so we were able to go with everyone else in our grade.

When we received our itinerary, one of the first things we all did was check where we were shopping. The trip that year was to Portland, Oregon. And although I love salt water taffy, and seeing how cheese is formed at the Tillamook Cheese Factory, I've been to Portland the year before for the choir trip, so I'm strictly there to enjoy myself and shop. One of the stops was to South Center Mall. We were all pretty excited about going to South Center since they had an Abercrombie & Fitch store there. Yes, yes, "woopity doo"...who cares about those brands, right? But you've got to understand, back then, Abercrombie, Hollister...those were the "in" brands. We don't have those stores in Vancouver.

Long story short, Don was basically the biggest tool of all. Even our teachers hated him.

After days of visiting unexciting scenic routes of caves and getting caught and punished for sneaking to hotel rooms of our friends (of the opposite sex) we were all pretty psyched to shop at South Center on our last day. But of course, we did not make a stop at South Center. We stopped at another mall that we had already been to on the first day of the trip...a mall that had absolutely NOTHING. Don's excuse was "you guys shopped enough!".

So I decided to do something about it. I took out a piece of paper and wrote on the header, "REASONS WHY WE HATE DON"...and passed it around the bus for everyone to give their reason on why they hate this guy. When the note made its way came back to me, I was too afraid to give it to him. I mean, what if he has suicidal thoughts after reading it? So now, it's sitting in my drawer. Have a read!

And so it begins...

2008-09-03T19:25:00.000-07:00

Why must you be so cheap in quality, $10 Bax Bear key chain?

Today was my second day of classes. I've been scoping out all my competitors and soon-to-be homework moochers. That brunette girl with the glasses sitting in front of me, yeah she'll be the perfect Geography lab partner. The Chinese guy with the bed head who sneezed on his hand and then wiped it on his Adidas tear-aways, yup, perfect group-member for my Economics project. But the guy with the Ed Hardy hat and the t-shirt that says "GANGSTA" won't be anywhere near my academic career...
So far, this semester seems like it will be a good one. I'm excited to start school again...even though my last semester ended roughly two weeks ago.

Yesterday was fun and relaxing. We went through the syllabus for most of my courses, except Calculus--we did five pages of review. Why am I not surprised that our instructor decided to teach instead of slack?

Time will only tell of when I will skip class or sleep-in. It happened today. My class today didn't start until noon, but I wanted to wake up at 7AM to do laundry...and if I'm disciplined enough, I could even head back into the gym for some morning sweat sessions with my Russian personal trainer Olga -- I don't really have a trainer. Anyways, I ended up getting out of bed at 8:30AM. So I spent the rest of my morning watching soccer-mom television (Regis & Kelly, The View) while ironing my silk halter-top and reattaching gems on my purple sequined dress. Then class began.

We were all seated when our instructor comes out of his office.
"I'm not feeling too well. I'm going to throw up any second now. Class is cancelled".
Great, so now I have a spare hour wandering through the busy halls where students tend to spend more time having softcore makeout sessions with their boyfriend/girlfriend than looking through their brand new textbooks. If my instructor wasn't feeling well, then why didn't he cancel class this morning so we could have been notified through our e-mails. I could have used that extra hour to dry my jeans--which were still damp from being yanked out of the dryer too quickly--or learned how Hilary Duff managed to drop a live scorpion into her pants (without stinging herself) when she was teaching the audience on a rerun of Ellen.

I went to the mall aftewards to refund a pair of Ray-Bans that I bought but no longer liked. I also had to buy metric graphing paper and tracing paper for my Geography course (which I still can't find). I then went into the Rogers store today to inquire about the new BlackBerry Bold.

Me (M): Hi I was wondering if you could tell me the pricing for the Bold.
Rogers Rep (RR): The price? Probably $400.
M: I heard someone got it for $300.
RR: Listen, you'd have to call Rogers and ask them how much they'll sell it to you for.
M: Oh...you don't have any here?
RR: No, we're not selling any at the stores. It depends on how great of a talker you are to get it for cheaper.
M: Oh, no...I was just wondering the pricing of the phone since I've heard of different amounts that people paid.
RR: Yeah, if you want to pay cheaper, then you have to call them and persuade them.

Well, it doesn't sound as bad when I type it out, but he was so persistent on the fact that I wanted the phone for cheaper. Fine. Assume I'm poor just because I'm wearing a schoolbag. I'm willing to spend $400 on the phone, damnit! I was just questioning the different amounts. Alright, maybe I won't spend $400 on a new cell phone...but I did fork out a whopping $2 for a lottery ticket on my way out of the mall.

Yesterday when I was walking home from the busstop, I saw an old lady in front of me. She suspiciously looks around and then lunges at my neighbour's yard and starts yanking away at the roots of dead dandelion plants. I walk past her and see that she has a handful of roots already. I continue walking, and when I turn around...she's still going at it. Who the heck wants to grow dandelions? They're weeds! Was she hoping to infest her enemie's yard by dispersing seeds all over their garden?

Alright, this entry has been really word-y and you probably won't get through it without taking a few breaks. I wanted to post more photos, but Donna has been too busy to send any over. We took a ton when we went camping. Alright. Speak to you all soon.

Camp Rock

2008-08-15T00:47:00.000-07:00

Me and Calvin's birthday night...but we're in none of these photos

I'm back! For the past month, I didn't feel like writing. And when I finally decided to blog (for the sake of updating my blog), I'd have nothing to write about. Then finals came, and I spent a good week and a half at home. But of course, when it's time to buckle down to find financial derivatives, ideas for my blog start sprouting. Whenever I have a brain fart, all I have to do is open up an old accounting textbook. It makes the world a better place to balance accounts.

The steam that came from my computer

I recently bought myself a new computer. The last one I had was bought when I was in the tenth grade -- it's about five years old and it's only 15 inches! So I upgraded to an iMac. I bought it with the Apple student discount and also received my free iPod Touch and printer.

Anyways, this new iMac is 24 inches! This makes watching ~~porn~~, ~~birthing videos~~, movies a whole new ~~pleasure~~ experience. The first day I bought it, the screen went wack and started to steam up. I was able to bring it back to the Apple Store (after an argument with the manager) and got an exchange without having to pay for the stupid $80 restocking fee. Apparently, the fogging of the screen is really common. "The special glue they used on the adhesive (as the screen protector) released too much moisture. That's why the screen steamed up when it got hot. All you had to do was turn your computer on for four or five hours and let the moisture burn off".

What kind of bull is that? Stupid Apple lady -- go eat an apple!

Best. Comeback. Ever.

Ryan and Scott looking excited as hell for karaoke!

But anyways, finals are finally over. Summer break officially begins! I spent my first night of freedom hanging out with family. My cousin, aunt and uncle came over from Hong Kong for the summer. So the family all went out to True Confections and ordered an illegal amount of teeth-rotting dessert. Having not abused my gym membership for almost two weeks, eating all this cake can't be good for my arteries (let alone my cankles.)

Drunken table dancing. Me and Maggie's signature move.

And because I spent so much time staying at home during finals, the amount of chores and errands I had to do really stacked up. I spent the whole day today running around the city trying to fulfill those tasks -- tasks like "replace my flattened blow-up doll" and "pick up payment from Big Daddy George for last month's service". My day was supposed to start at 9am with chores around the house, but because I stayed up till 6am the night/morning before catching up on downloaded episodes of Big Brother 10, I really had to take out a few tasks to adjust my schedule. So of course "chores" were a no-brainer.

"But I wannna pop the champagne like Fergie!"

In a few weeks, a bunch of us are planning to go camping in Washington. It's pretty funny how we choose to camp outside of all the camp sites in British Columbia. A lot of us have never gone actual camping before. We've all been to camps for school, but that's not real camping. Real camping doesn't consist of scrambled eggs and breakfast sausages appearing right when we walk into a cafeteria (or even have a cafeteria for that matter). Real camping doesn't consist of a lounge area where we can watch Spice World or check relationship statues of your friends on Facebook. And real camping certainly doesn't consist of tantric massages from Camp Counsellor Becky. What? She said all the eight year old boys were getting them for better blood circulation. But anyway, we'll be in the States. And over there, we're not legal to drink! What crap is that? What's camping without nights of cheap whiskey? But then again, what do I know? We're not inviting Becky to THIS camp, so therefore, it's not a real camp . But anyway, if you want to join, meet us at Deception Pass State Park. You could be my hot summer camp love-buddy. I promise I'll be a gentleman ;)

Note: The pictures above have nothing to do with what I posted. I just had pictures that I haven't posted in a while. Also, it may say that this post is written on August 15th, but it was written on the 14th.

Also, I just went around to the blogs I usually read and leave comments at, and it looks like a big chunk of those bloggers have stopped blogging. What's the deal?

[pictures courtesy of Donna Ng]

Hot for Finals

2008-08-06T17:17:00.001-07:00

Hey Bloggers!

How's everyone doing? It's really hot where I'm at.

Sadly, and coincidentally, it's the week of finals. I won't be updating for another week or so. Hopefully I'll be up-and-running soon. Don't miss me too much.

Tagged for Music

2008-07-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

My favourite new artist, Jamie Lidell. Check out the weird video.

A few weeks ago, blogger Retro Life Style tagged me to pick out my seven favourite songs. That's hard to do. Instead of trying to go through my mountain full of Tyra Banks hits (don't tell me you've never heard of, "Shake Ya Body"), I'll look at my iTunes' Top 25 Most Played playlist instead and pick-and-choose from that list.

1) "Everybody's Changing" by Keane
It's the top played song in my music library right now. Played 549 times. It's just a good song. I first heard Keane when they were the musical guests on Saturday Night Live a few years back. I haven't stopped listening to this song since. To be honest, I'm quite sick of this song. I know it's one I'll enjoy probably for the rest of my life. But at the moment, it makes me feel like Britney Spears...sans her frappuccino.

2) "The Way You Look Tonight" by Tony Bennett
It's the second most-played song of my music library with 530 repetitions. Tony is one of my favourites. If you ever want to check out a Tony album but can't make a decision from the dozens that he has already released, choose his newest: Duets - An American Classic. It's great and filled with music superstars ranging from Spanish rock star, Juanes to one of Nashville's favourites, Tim McGraw.

3) "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson
How did a song that came out last year make it onto my most-played playlist? A better question: how did a crappy Old Navy commercial get this song stuck in my head? I sampled a few of Ingrid's other songs, but I don't like her boring mood. It's one of those feelings where you feel their album doesn't live up to their first single.

4) "September" by Earth Wind and Fire
How can you say "no" to this jam. Two summers ago, this song was on repeat everywhere. Whether I brought a portable CD player into the bathroom when I was showering, or causing fender benders while I was swerving to the beat of the chorus. This song is quite ultimate to bring out the falsetto in grown men.

5) "Something's Gotta Give" by Sammy Davis Jr.
One of my favourite movies of all time would have to be What Women Want. Who wouldn't want to be like Mel Gibson's character? Rich, smooth, a successful advertising executive with playboy charm. Aside from wanting to be anti-semitic and screaming out "SUGAR TITS!", you should check out the soundtrack -- it's as smooth as Mel's character. A great collection of great jazz that I enjoy. None of that new-age electronic jazz they play these days filled with wonky keyboard staccatos.

6) "Banana Pancakes" by Jack Johnson
Take out your bongos and roll yourself a fattie. That's exactly how I feel when listening to Jack Johnson. His music breaks down the anger built up from arguing with professors about what the phrase, "write the best possible answer", means...I'm suddenly feeling the munchies...

7) "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5
The first time I heard this song was when they performed it a few years back on some award show. Seeing an almost-anorexic-looking Adam Levine prancing around the stage like he has tourettes is what made this song even more interesting.

And for some newer jams: Recently, I found this guy named Jamie Lidell. I've been trying to get my emo friends to sample his music, but they couldn't let go of their Radiohead and embrace the warm summer sun. Jamie's music is a mixture between James Morrison's voice and Amy Winehouse's groove. "Another Day" is his current single and it's very good. I urge you to check it out.

John Mayer is also a favourite of mine. He's a bit of a tool, but, I like most of his music. I've also mentioned about Sondre Lerche a while back after watching Dan In Real Life -- a great album. Katherine Heigl's husband, Josh Kelley also has some soul for a white guy (and for someone who's married to that crazy bitch). But one of my favourite summer tunes of the moment would have to be Estelle's "American Boy" featuring Kanye West. I have yet to find someone who doesn't love (and know the words) to this song.

So there you have it. Some of my favourite songs of the moment. I don't have much of an explanation for the songs I like. Obviously, the songs I chose are all pretty mellow. I enjoy all types of music, but ultimately, I resort to happy music. I don't understand how someone can listen to sad music to "drown themselves out" when they're in a crap mood. Wouldn't that just make you more sad...and slice yourself (Pete Doherty style)? I'm not going to tag anyone to do this music-list because I am too lazy. But please feel free to share a favourite artist or album of yours. I'm always open to new music.

Since we're on the topic of music, check out ELECTRONIC ROBOTS. A new blog-friend of mine that features hip, new (and old) artists.

[pictures courtesy of iTunes and ELECTRONIC ROBOTS]

PayDay from eBay

2008-07-22T00:50:00.000-07:00

I'm back! There hasn't been all that much going on in my life except for the usual -- and "the usual" usually knocks people out into a deep sleep. I've been writing tiny tidbits here and there, but I'd look at the post and proofread it, and then I'd probably throw a huge fit and whine to myself about having a boring life. So although I feel that the posts that I'll be updating my blog with for the next week (or so) aren't good enough for SECRET AGENT material, I'll post it up anyways just to keep this blog alive!

Ever since I got myself a credit card, I've credited myself into a hole of debt! Internet shopping has never sounded so attractive (and finally attainable!). My parents never let me use their credit card because of their paranoia towards identity theft and people charging their cards to websites like THIS. But with my $500 limit and my constant checking of my bank accounts, there's no way I can't find a fishy expense, if there was one.

I've been on eBay quite a bit lately. Things are amazingly cheaper on eBay than if I were to buy it on Craigslist or from retail stores. Not knowing how to use eBay, I decided it would be fun to just bid on things I want. I won't win anything because I always bid when there's two days left of the auction. So why bid anyway? Because it's fun to pretend that you're spending, when you're actually not.

I've been looking up on BlackBerry cell phones a lot. I sadly, won one of the auctions. I had to pay up $100 for a cell phone that I really didn't want all that much. If you remember from previous posts, you'd know I have a sick addiction to BlackBerrys. It's one of the greatest inventions alive. Anyways, I ended up winning a used BlackBerry 8700g. It's a very old model -- older than the one I have now. But I've always had a softspot for the models from the 87XX series. It really didn't occur to me it was a used phone. All I saw was "bid $30 or higher!". I rarely ever read the description on items too.

I received the phone last Tuesday. But because I bought this phone from America (and I'm Canadian), it's locked onto the T-Mobile network. I can't use it on the Rogers Wireless network unless I illegally jailbreak it. So there I go searching for people to unlock my phone. I found three different guys to unlock my phone on Craigslist. I tried contacting them, but no one replied. What's going on?! Do they want business? I finally contacted my eBay seller again to get him to unlock it. After sending my eBay seller $30 for the unlocking service, waiting a whole week (when he told me it would be two days, at the latest), I wrote him a ton of hate mail. I thought he just ran off with my $30. I Googled him and I found that he was even featured on Entrepreneur.com as one of the most successful eBay sellers. He generates $300,000 in revenue each year! Why would he want to take $30 from poor, old, college student Jacky?
As I was about to write a whole post exposing this seller's identity and leaving a nasty comment on the Entrepreneur.com article, he e-mails me apologizing. He's been trying to get my code from different vendors, and the code should be ready shortly...hopefully.

Anyways, the new BlackBerry Bold should be out this week: a few days before my birthday. It would be a perfect gift to myself.

But anyways, If you're still reading this, I applaud you and give you a golden star for being a true SECRET AGENT fan! Sorry for the lack of pictures. The "photographer" in our group has been busy and have yet to upload all the pictures we took.

[picture courtesy of BlackBerry.com]

I'm Glad I Started This Blog...

2008-07-07T12:15:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I'm not too good with taking self-portraits. So, whenever I must, I make faces like my balls are being licked by Geoff's dog.

Forgive me for not writing anything in the past two weeks. Once again, school got in the way, along with laziness and work (what's new?). I really don't have much to write about, but something special happened this week and I thought I'd share.

I'm glad I started this blog. If it wasn't for this blog, I wouldn't have a part-time job writing on another site, or enjoy my free iPod chargers, or get my photos published in a magazine (and on the cover in the next issue), or best of all...meet awesome people.

A few months after I started SECRET AGENT, a young lady, by the name of Yetunde, left me a few comments on my blog. And from there we hit it off and became the best of friends. maybe it wasn't that quick, but we could definetely call ourselves internet-buddies (the modern day pen pals). So you could only imagine how excited I was when Yetunde left me a message notifying me that I'll be receiving a package from her in a few days. She decided to send all of her internet friends a gift and I was included!

The I ♥ NY keychain Yetunde bought for me and my one-legged Bax Bear that broke over the weekend.

If you've read my blog from the beginning, you'd know that I love New York. I live, breathe and eat New York -- although I've never been there (ha!). So being a good friend, Yetunde thought of me when she went on a small New York trip a few weeks ago. She even got me one of those infamous I ♥ NY t-shirts and a key chain. I've always wanted one of those t-shirts and I'm glad I actually have one now! The key chain has been attached to my key already. Along with the perfect gifts, was a very uplifting letter from her. I'm a very optimistic person. But sometimes I'd feel like crap no matter how optimistic I force myself to be. Yetunde is always there to lift a person's spirit. She's always encouraging me to follow my dreams and giving me motivating words to reach those goals -- something that not a lot of people say to others these days. She's my Jack Canfield! I'm glad I started this blog...

PS: I'm still a bit busy with other commitments -- so if I haven't visited and commented on your blog for a while, I will do so as soon as I have the extra time. =O

Bicep Curl? $30 Please!

2008-06-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

The blue/purple Master Lock my mom bought for me in the 8th grade because, "it's easier to differentiate your lock from the others, if yours isn't black or blue". Yes, what better way to point your belongings out to thieves with the most vibrant lock...Ironically, my locker never got broken into when I was in high school whenever we had a mass locker break-in.

On Saturday, I decided to push the tub of ice cream aside and get my evergrowing ass onto a treadmill. I went into my local gym, renewed my membership, and dragged myself into the locker room. The gym I go to is quite small -- It's actually in a community centre. As I walked into the locker room, I saw a man getting out of his gym clothes. He stared at me, and kept staring at my stuff (which I placed down on the bench while I was getting ready). He analyzed everything I had: wallet, iPod, cell phone, car keys. He looked very suspicious, and that's why, before I left the room, I double-checked my locker. Because my gym is so small, no one really uses the lockers -- but I used one. So out of all the empty lockers that were wide open, my locker was the only one used and had a lock on it. Dumbass. It's like an automatic target.

It's time to workout. Side note: I'm not actually considered "fat" anymore as I measured my body-fat percentage beforehand and I was in the "normal" range. Take that, elementary school bullies!
I sweated off half my body-weight on some cardio machine, pushed weights that were a little too heavy for me to handle and rolled around on a mat doing some sort of stretching exercise. An hour and a half later, I decided to give up. No amount of adoration of skinny/emo/testicle-hugging jeans will ever make up for the pain that I'm going through.

I went back into the empty locker room and saw that my lock was unlocked *Gasp* Not only was it unlocked, but he broke my $7 Master Lock. I quickly looked through my belongings to see if anything was missing: Sweatshirt? Still there. Shoes? Still stinks. Condoms? Still untouched for over five years. Credit card? Still shiny. But I did notice a $20 bill missing. I sat there on the bench trying to remember what I bought the day before and to see if I've actually used it. "Okay, so I swiped my card when I bought this. Used loose change for sushi, used a $5 bill for coffee"...and yet I still can't remember if I used it or not. Since "nothing" was really stolen, perhaps they copied down my credit card number or driver's license and I'd be one of those sad cases of identity theft. I'm keeping a close eye on my credit card transactions. But so far, nothing.

Today, while I was getting ready for school, I checked my "coin holder" (the loose-change in which I've gathered from not having a brain that works fast enough to use it when making purchases) to see if I have enough for coffee. But it wasn't in my bag! My coin holder, that I won in a game of BINGO in the second-grade, is gone!

So there you have it, my $10 worth of coins was taken, and probably that $20 bill that I'm still going nuts about. I mean, he's a pretty nice thief to have only taken money and not my IDs. Not only did he just take my money, but he also closed my locker. The lock was opened (because he busted it), but he closed it afterwards and also put the lock back onto its latch. How nice of him to minimize the opportunity of having my things being stolen by someone else.
He probably Googled me and found this blog and is laughing and counting my change as he's reading this lame post.

edited to add// See, it never occurred to me that I had my stuff stolen. Everyone was telling me I was paranoid and that I just didn't lock my locker before leaving the changing rooms. I was too busy, over the weekend, trying to think if I actually spent my $20 and was confused that if someone did break into my locker, why he didn't take my bus pass, credit card and most importantly, my customized Starbucks card, that I didn't even check the most obvious: my lock (which was busted). I didn't notice it was busted until today! I also didn't notice my coin-holder was missing until today too! I also also didn't even notice I had my stuff stolen until today because nothing was virtually missing! He's good... damn sociopathic thief!...or maybe I'm just stupid.

See? Another reason not to go to the gym. Anyways, sorry if this post has typos and grammar errors, I'm still a little frazzled and feel like somebody groped me.

Aging (Non)Gracefully

2008-06-21T02:38:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead I've just been mighty busy with school and work...so although I don't even have much time to write, I also don't have much to write about. The highlight of this month was probably when I got my Vegemite. F.Y.I.: Vegemite and Marmite is what I eat every damn morning now -- I'm addicted. Other than that, I've just been sitting at home and studying...sort of. But now, my work load has evened-out and I'm free to stretch out those fingers and type out an exciting post.

I went to a "skincare pharmacy" (why do they even call themselves that?) today. After chatting with the sales person, I walked over to the cash register to pay for my purchases. Whenever you make a purchase at this store, they'll give you a few samples of other products from their line to try.

"Have you tried Abyssine?"
"Absinthe? *haha yeah!*"
"No, Abyssine. I'll get some for you!"
She meant the Abyssine eye cream.
"Its good for those first signs of aging: fine lines and wrinkles *pointing to my eyes*".

Wrinkles? I'm frickin 19!? I take pretty good care of my skin. All the acne creams I get prescribed (Retin-A Micro and Tazorac) are loaded with vitamin A -- a vitamin that's supposed to reduce fine lines, increase collagen production while fighting the volcanoes on my teenage-hormonal skin. And because I have such intense acne treatments to fight the neverending layer of oil on my face, I have to use sunscreen or else I'd look like Richie Sambora while sunbathing -- that explains why I'm as sickly pale as Nicole Kidman when really, I'd love to look like George Hamilton. See? It's a pretty good start to a healthy skincare routine for a guy.

I get the "Oh really? You look older" line quite a bit. People always guess I'm older than I actually am -- which is fine, I usually shrug it off anyways. In fact, if it wasn't for this quality of mine, I wouldn't have experienced the loss of my virginity on a drunken night with Crabby Patty when I was 12.

At school, you meet a lot of people. You get chatting, and then the "age question" usually pops up. And before I get a chance to show off my youth and the love I have for the likes of Hannah Montana, Zack & Cody and Zoey 101, they'll say "You're 24? Wait! Let me guess again...27?".

I have been pretty tired these days. With work and school -- It's been hectic. Also, my pillows are as flat as the Olsen's breasts. I get no real sleep in these pillows, which leads to lack of sleep, headaches and a stiff neck. I can get 10 hours of "sleep" and still end up pressing snooze five times. And when I finally get out of bed, I'd notice I already missed the first half of class. My pillows are completely lifeless. The neck pains are partially caused by the odd position I put my body into when checking my phone messages every morning.

So if I look old, I blame it on my lack of beauty rest.

Now, where did the hell did I place my dentures? Oh, my caretaker will find it for me.

[pictures courtesy of The Daily Galaxy, Dana's Dirt and Disney]

Beauty and the Yeast

2008-06-11T00:20:00.000-07:00

As you may know, I am on a mission to find myself Vegemite. I don't remember where I first heard of this stuff, but it was a while ago. I knew I had to try it. Everyone who I have told about my Vegemite mission (and knew what Vegemite was) gave the "yuck" expression -- which made me want to try it even more. This stuff used to be sold everywhere -- readily available to be spread onto little sandwiches. But recently, most of the Vancouver stores pulled it off their shelves because of the FDA. My friend Emma told me to check out Nesters Market in the Yaletown neighbourhood of Vancouver to find it.

Anyways, for those who don't know, Vegemite is an Australian spread made of a vegetable and yeast extract. The most common way to eat it is to spread it onto freshly buttered toast. It's an Australian staple. "All the kids eat it for breakfast", as I once read on my "Vegemite research." Marmite, on the other hand, is produced all the way in England. It's basically the same stuff but "it tastes worst!"

At Nesters, I ask one of the workers where I could find Vegemite in the store. Two minutes later, he comes back with a small jar. Woo hoo!

Me (M): A ha! Perfect. Thanks!
Worker (W): There's also this other stuff called, 'Marmite.'
M: Yeah, I know. Marmite is English, and Vegemite is Australian. I wanted to try Vegemite.

*brings me over to the aisle where this wonderful yeast extract was*

W: Here's the other stuff *shows me Marmite*
M: Hmm, perhaps I'll get both just to compare.
W: Why would you want to eat this stuff? It's gross.
M: Haha, so I've heard. I just don't understand how some people dislike this stuff so much when Australians love it. It's a must try! How does it taste like?
W: I've only had Marmite...it tastes like...(10 second pause)..I can't describe it, you'll just have to try it.
M: Is it sweet? Salty? Bitter?
W: It tastes like dirt.
M: ...thanks.

I get home and finally dig my fingers into this awesome stuff. It smells like malt. Like a Horlicks or Ovaltine drink, perhaps it will taste like a malt drink too. According to englishteaboy's video (on top), you're supposed to lightly spread the Vegemite across your piece of toast. Vegemite is thick in texture whereas Marmite is more syrupy.
It has a very interesting taste. It's salty -- like a thickened version of soya sauce. It's not that horrible to eat, but it's certainly interesting (in a sense that I probably won't eat anymore of it). The Marmite tasted better at first, but, as I continued eating, it got more and more salty. I was really hoping this would be something I could be eating everyday. But, I just can't. I feel like I have let the Aussies down. How am I going to finish my $11 worth of Vegemite/Marmite?

Speaking of yeast...

Last week at work, I had my first fungal infection experience. I was on my way to the back area to refill some stock when I heard a customer (let's call him Fungal Face) scream, "EXCUSE ME?!" followed by an arm-flaling action. I went over to the other end of the store, where he was dancing and shaking on the spot. He asked if I could unlock the door to the washroom for him. I was going to until I realized I left the washroom key at home. I had to call my supervisor to open up but stayed with him until she arrived. I saw that he had an item in his hand.

Me (M): Sir, you actually have to leave all your items out here before using the washroom in case of theft and other security reasons.
Fungal Face (F): Oh, I actually need it.
M: Okay, well, did you want to pay for it first?
F: I already paid for it.
M: Do you have the receipt?
F: No, I don't have it with me. But don't I look like an honest guy? *nervous laugh*
M: ...?
F: I'm trying to explain this to you, without having to embarrass myself. I really really need to apply this product in the bathroom, right now. *Flashes me his item: Canesten* I have a ---
M: ...ALRIGHT, I understand. No need to explain what you have.

It turns out he actually did pay for his Canesten because my supervisor told me she rang his items through.

Who doesn't love a good jock-itch, once in a while?

[picture courtesy of Canesten]

Friday Night Lights

2008-06-08T01:10:00.000-07:00

Yo yo yo! I haven't posted in a while because of midterms. It's "sort of" over (another one in a week) and I think it's time for an update. Normally, I would write these huge wordy-essay-like posts, but today, I'm just going to let the photos speak for themselves (with subtle captions, of course). You see, my friends Donna and Geoff decided to get themselves a new camera. A Sony DSLR-A200, to be exact. We all went out on Friday to hang out and they brought out their new toy. Check out the photos.

After our Greek dinner on Denman street of Vancouver, we had some expensive sweets at Cookies By George. Nicky (grey hoodie, bottom left) insisted we go because he loves these cookies -- that's why he's eating two at a time.

We also found these lovely places...

We decided to hit up a little spot we randomly found last year called The Libra Room. The outside looks kind of ghetto (the neighborhood is ghetto too), but once you step in and absorb the cozy, dark atmosphere and live jazz, you'll be glad I mentioned this place to you. The green girly drink isn't mine, it's Jessica's. As you can can see, I'm not enjoying her kiwi slush cocktail. *blech*
Yes, I know. Scott looks like me, and so does Geoff, and Donna, and Maggie, and Nicky...yes, I got it: Asians look alike.

I love taking advantage of my drunken friends...It's not so pretty the next morning when you find a mysterious lump. On second thought, Maggie may not be the only one drunk in these photos...

After leaving the bar, we were walking to our cars (we had designated drivers. Secret Agent does not encourage drinking and driving) we found a stack of empty skids. We decided to play jungle gym on them.

Before dropping Donna off, we found a nearby park and tried, once again (like LAST YEAR), to do crazy light photos that Donna introduced to us when she found lichtfaktor. We totally recommend you to check out these Swedish guys, their photos are crazy!

It's raining...Goodbye.

[photos courtesy of Donna Ng (who will soon have her very own pro Flickr account where you can see more of photos of us being idiots)]

PS - My good friend Haroon recently switched blogs from nasty MSN Spaces to lovely Blogger. Check out his blog: .:Euphoric:. It's pretty awesome.

Come Aboard!

2008-05-31T11:42:00.000-07:00

Midterms are killing me...killing me softly with his words...killing me softly...

SNAP OUT OF IT, JACKY!

I've jumped aboard the crazy train. Frequent headaches, dizziness and eyes that are more shriveled than testicles -- and midterms are what caused this! I will check out all of your blogs and leave comments as soon as exams are finished. In the meantime, enjoy another photo from our horse-riding night from last week. It's a picture of Geoff (not me -- as some of you may think). See you soon.

PS - Hmm, where can I find Vegemite, in Vancouver? Or Marmite?

[picture courtesy of Donna Ng]

"One yogurt buritto, to-go please..."

2008-05-24T23:58:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! I missed my one-year anniversary with Blogger! Damn, I was looking forward to this. My first entry was on May 11th of 2007 and today is the 24th! Whatever, I've been too busy to worry about my anniversary anyway (just kidding, baby, I love you forever).

After having lunch with my family yesterday, I met up with Donna and Geoff and embraced our inner tourists. We had our lunch/dinner at Red Burrito. We each ordered a "burrito in a bowl". While Geoff ordered the chicken, Donna ordered the beef, I got myself the vegeterian. In other words, I ordered a $7 salad in a bowl smothered in guac. Delicioso!

We craved something sweet afterwards and decided to hit up a place that serves frozen yogurt called Blueberry. Wait a second, this little joint certainly rings a bell, doesn't it? Oh wait! It's because it's a complete copy-and-paste idea of Hollywood's upscale frozen yogurt dessert restaurant, Pinkberry.

On our excursion around the downtown area with our frozen yogurt, we found a bunch of apartment complexes. And near them were these...things.

After bumming around for a good three hours, we finally met up with everyone else. We all went bowling. When we were leaving, we got chased down by Mr. Surfer-Bowling-Alley-Attendant who said we haven't paid for all of our games yet. We did. He probably drank too much ocean water.

After bowling, it was 12AM. We decided to head to a nearby McDonald's. After ordering another yogurt (yogurt parfait to be exact) and nuggets, we were forced to eat outside in the patio because they were closing. We sat there for almost two hours making fun of people from high school. We then called it a night.

Wow, this post is certainly short. Summarized to the max. Couldn't have explained it any better though.

[pictures courtesy of Donna Ng]

H&M Grand Opening Party

2008-05-23T00:55:00.000-07:00

Waiting in line to get in...

So last night (technically two night ago, since I'm writing this past midnight) was the H&M Grand Opening Vancouver party. It was crazy. The party was basically a presale. It started at 7pm. We got there at 6:45pm and there were already 100 people waiting in line to get in. After five minutes of standing outside and admiring the bright lights of the store, literally 300 people, all of a sudden, appeared behind us in the line.

The picture on the left is the door-lady taking down our names and checking off who arrived.

I believe there were 1000 people in the store that night. When we got in, there were caterers standing with trays of champagne. Free booze! I quickly walked the women's section, whilst trying to blog live for my Facebook friends with my phone. I then went upstairs where all the men's clothing were, and after that, I was completely lost in the crowd. Hundreds of people everywhere, champagne flutes were dropping, The Misshapes were blaring, people pushing and shoving and workers sweating. It was fun. I continued to snap photos and blog on Facebook, but, it was hard to handle my racks of soon-to-be-purchased items and my two drinks. I'm sorry, but alcohol is more important.

The guy on the left was the DJ who started off the night. The picture on the right is Leigh Lezark of The Misshapes. I was looking for her the whole night. When I finally spotted her, I whipped out my phone and (stupidly) stuck it up in the air. She caught me trying to take her photo and turned around to avoid the shot.

There was an open bar and caterers walking around with hors d'oeuvres. I haven't had such great food in a long time. My Asian parents were very proud of me as I got my time's worth of free food. I came out with about 10 items -- all with 25% off. Woot.