My Royal Wedding Assessment

I didn’t wake up at some ridiculous ungodly hour to watch the Royal Wedding. Mostly because I was still awake and still drinking at 4 am this morning. I did catch a glimpse of the ceremony on CNN.

Here is my assessment. I know you are dying to hear it.

1.Kate Middleton is just lovely.

Most of my motivation to see the ceremony is to see this pretty girl. I love pretty people. Her dress was beautiful and demure. She looked magnificent.

2. William is looking more and more like his father everyday.

Dare I say it! William is going bald. Poor boy. That’s all I have to say about this for the sake of not being an asshole.

3. When did Prince Harry become such a hottie?

I was like: who is that ginger hottie next to William? OMG. Harry? My, my, look how you have grown?! Nice work.

After watching the clip, I thought how sad it was that the Prince Diana could not be at her son’s wedding. That was a beautiful elegant woman.

With that, those are my quick tidbits of wisdom on the “Event of the Century.” -The media's words, not mine. Century? It’s only 2011. Don’t you think when the machines take over or when aliens invade Earth that those may be better candidates for the event of the century? And not a wedding of two beautiful people?

Way to have priorities media.

Meanwhile, in less important news: there were some tornadoes or something in Alabama, Japan is still missing 88,000 people, some sort of crisis is happening Libya, and blah blah blah.

Support Fast Five. Support Mr. Walker.

Since I am the president of the Support Paul Walker organization, of which I am still the sole member, I am campaigning weeks in advance for Fast Five. Most purport that my interest in the Fast and Furious franchise is purely due to Paul Walker. I resent that vehemently.

Paul Walker is only 89% of the reason I've seen these movies hundreds of times. I like cool cars. Must you forget that I'm Asian? For god sakes! I watch Top Gear. (The BBC version. The American version is not nearly is good). I know what's up about cars. It's all good and dandy to remember I'm Asian when you need help with your math problems or need to borrow someone's wok or rice cooker, but you forget I'm Asian when it comes to cars. Asians love this shit. Have you ever heard of the term "rice rocket?"

Watch the Fast and Furious movies. This is important because there are actual Asians in them! The Fast and Furious movies have employed 96% of Asian actors in Hollywood, which is yet ANOTHER reason to watch Fast Five. (My statistics are based on whatever number pops in my head. There is no validity to what I claim to say.)

What is another reason to watch Fast Five on April 29th? T & A. I haven't seen that much T&A packed into a two minute trailer in my life. At 0:21 of the trailer: naked chicks. Genius! The makers of this film know what makes for a great entertainment experience and that's girls in their underwear twenty seconds into the trailer.

Can you even imagine what the entire film is going to be like? Most likely, an explosion of naked girls and ripped guy walking around in the background. The F&F filmmakers make sure to put hot people in every nook and cranny of the shot. The waiters are hot. The pedestrians are hot. The random girls dancing on top of cars are hot (0:52).

The people in this movie are breathtaking. Combine that with engines revving in the background. I'm sold. I'm bought. I will be this movie's whore.

Paul Walker's triceps never looked better. (I like triceps. Shut up.) Vin Diesel is brawny and brooding as ever. Jordana Brewster is smoking hot. (God! I wish she made more movies.) And there is a whole slew of other beautiful people to gawk at for two hours.

Is it Oscar award winning acting? Hell, I hope not! I can't be asked to pay attention to nuances in acting talent while there are all those hot people speeding around in beautiful cars.

Watch the trailer here:

You'll love it, if you know what good shit is. And go watch the movie when it comes out. I want them to keep making F&F movies forever and ever.

Amen.

Paul Walker: The Cadillac of Action Stars

I was involved in a heated conversation about the credibility of Paul Walker as an actor. I am an avid Paul Walker advocate and have much to say in defense of his career.

Do you remember Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift? Of course, you don’t! Nobody does. Why? Paul Walker wasn’t in it. No one cared.

Paul Walker is the meat (This is a euphemism.) and potatoes (again – a euphemism) of the Fast and Furious franchise. You might want to argue: What about Vin Diesel? Yes, he’s important, but Paul Walker brings the pretty boy element that made these movies so popular. He's the dude that dudes want to be and girls want to... um... hang out with (euphemism).

What about his other films? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the classic film Varsity Blues. Every time you hear that Foo Fighter’s song, you think of Paul Wallker and Dawson Leary. Don’t lie. And Pleasantville? His acting was impeccable! What about Eight Below? I cried and you did, too.

Paul Walker is the vehicle that drove those movies to make millions. Therefore, he’s the Cadillac of action stars. Does that make sense? No. No, it doesn’t. That isn’t the point.

The point is, once again, I’ve wasted moments of your life reading about the greatness that is Paul Walker.

Ha.

I win. Now, go watch some of his movies, like this one:

I’m not an asshole; I just can’t hear you.

It’s true. People get so insanely pissed off when I ask them to repeat themselves or when they think I’m not listening to them.

Angry person: “Hey! I’m talking to you! Did you hear what I said?!”

Me: “Um. No. Were you talking to me?”

Angry Person: “You trying to be funny?”

Me: “No. I just couldn’t hear you. I don’t have all my hearing in my right ear.”

Usually, the person feels awful for getting so worked up. I smile politely and tell them that it’s okay, but secretly I’m laughing inside because now, that person feels like a dick.

This is usually what happens, but the other day at work I got the opposite reaction.

Angry person to my co-worker: “Can you believe her!? I asked her a question! She’s not even looking at me!”

There were a lot of people at the nurses’ station. With lots of noise, talking, commotion, paper rustling, and such, I tend to not be able to locate sound well. So, I just tune out and sit quietly to myself.

However, at this point, all my co-workers are looking at me like I’m some asshole. I still have my eyesight and half a brain in my head. So, although I can’t necessarily hear what’s happening, I deduce that I’ve done something wrong.

Me: “Huh? What’s going on? Something happening? I don’t know.”

Angry person: “Ya! I was talking to you! What’s wrong with you?!”

All eyes are on me.

Me: “You were? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

Angry Person (Getting angrier by the second): “What?! You didn’t hear me?!”

Me: “No. Sorry. What was it you wanted?”

She is now irate and says to my co-worker: “She says she couldn’t hear me!”

Me: “I don’t have all my hearing in my right ear. So, no, I didn’t hear you.”

The nurses’ station’s commotion stops to a dead silence.

This is where most people feel terrible for trying to publicly humiliate me. They apologize profusely and walk away feeling like a real asshole.

THIS IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED.

Instead, this little tidbit about my hearing impairment just sets Angry Person over the edge. She doesn't give a fuck.

Insane Angry Person (YELLING REALLY REALLY LOUD): “Can you hear me now? Hey! Hey! Can you hear me now?”

Everyone is in shock. Mouths open. Speechless.

Me: “Ya. I can hear you.” (We are literally 3 feet away from each other.)

Mentally Unstable Angry Person (STILL YELLING OBSCENELY LOUD): “You can hear me?! Huh?! You can hear me?! Good!”

And then she does a kind of “pshaw” type sound with her mouth, shakes her head, and looks at my co-worker with an incredulous look on her face, as if to say, “Who the fuck does this deaf person think she is?”

My hearing problem gets me in all sorts of trouble. I find myself in situations like these or worse. Because I know how pissed people get when I ask them to repeat themselves, I usually just nod and agree. I try to read lips closely, but if someone (like a boyfriend or some other significant other type person) is turned away from me, instead of asking him to repeat himself, I just nod and agree. But, really: I have no idea what’s going on. I should learn by now that this is no way to conduct relationships, because whatever the fuck I agreed to will come up later.

Oh, yes it will. Don’t think it won’t.

I will obviously not remember anything about the conversation because I never heard it in the first place and the boyfriend will get really mad at me and tell me that I never listen to anything he says.

Which is somewhat true, but it’s because I can’t actually hear the dude well enough to listen.

In most situations, I AM an asshole, but not when I can’t hear you.

So, have mercy on me.

David Sedaris is not Trendy, Asshole.

I had the pleasure of interacting with a bystander in my life that claimed that the only reason I liked David Sedaris was because his books were on sale at Urban Outfitters. I use the term “bystander” to describe people in my life who are like human furniture in the background. They’re around. They’re lurking back there somewhere forcing me to interact with them in a cursory type manner, but they are not real active people in my life. Furniture is interchangeable and so are these people.

In any case, what I wanted to say to said bystander was, “Nice thought, douche, but believe it or not, David Sedaris’s books can be bought at other retail outlets. His work is not solely sponsored by our dear friends at Hipster Central.”

I cringe to think that people may overlook Sedaris’s brilliant work because it happens to be in Urban Outfitters on the same shelf as the picture book of penises, which by the way we shouldn’t automatically judge to be poor literature/art anyway. (This is probably another topic for another post on another day.)

His books are at Urban. So, what? An asshole with his plaid shirt, smug self-entitlement, and skinny boy jeans in the damn store in the first place buying another hip trendy knit cap is going to discredit books that are being sold at the very store that supplies his hipster wardrobe/ forced lifestyle? Contradiction? Paradox? Douche baggery?

Oh, yes. I think so.

Read his essays. They are fucking hilarious. His work inspires me every day to talk more shit.

David Sedaris should be given the acclaim he deserves especially from douches that haven’t even read his work or douches that claim they read voraciously, but actually only look up books on Wikipedia for plot summaries.

You douches suck. Sedaris rocks.

Gym, Rats!

There are only two criteria that go into choosing a gym: hospitality and hotness. The big H’s that go into most decisions that I make in my life. My gym closed and relocated to a farther destination and I decided to see what other gyms were in my close vicinity.

Choosing a gym is a serious decision. It’s like choosing a second home. After several weeks of cautious deliberating, I called ahead of time and made an appointment with a nearby gym.

I walk in and I say, “Hi! I’m here for an appointment.”

The Neanderthal-looking douche bag behind the counter says sarcastically, “Ummm. Could you be more specific?”

Hmmm. Well, let’s see. We are at a gym. I have a gym bag on my shoulder. So, I say, “Ya. I’m here for my colonoscopy appointment. Is Dr. Roto-Rooter in, you dumb fuck?”

DISCLAIMER: I did not say this, but instead I say, “Um. I made an appointment for a gym membership.”

Douche bag curtly says, “Well, who was it with? Jimbo? Dumbo? Tardo?” (Okay. Those are probably not the names he said, but at this point, it should be clear that I do not recall the name of the person I have an appointment with. Naming arbitrary names does nothing to help the situation.)

I say, “I don’t remember his name.”

This is where douche bag gets really upset by the complicated problem he is faced with and with no credible solution to solve this challenging conundrum, he grunts, shakes his head in annoyed frustration, and stomps away.

I’m not fucking kidding.

Then the pudgy girl behind the counter steps up and says, “Oh. You must be here for Jimbo’s (who knows the name?) appointment. He’s not here. Something came up. He won’t be in until Monday. I’m covering for him.”

Silence.

I say, “Okay.”

She says, “What did you want?”

“A membership! I want to join a gym!”

She says, “Oh. Well, it’s going to be $39.00 a month.”

Silence.

More silence. And she’s staring at me.

Now, I’m completely in shock. This is how you sell shit to people? A blind, deaf, dumb, mute, semi-unconscious chimpanzee sells shit better than that.

I say, “That’s it? That’s what you’re going to tell me? This is the membership meeting?”

Her response: “Yup.”

No one shows me around the gym. No one tries to tell me about any specials or deals. My membership meeting was over in 30 seconds.

This is when I turn around, get in my car, and drive the extra 15 to 20 minutes to get to my relocated gym.

On my drive over there, I replay the incident in my head. I may have been more lenient if the gym staff had been hotter, which finally brings me to the second H.

When I walk into my gym, I want to see hot smiling people behind the counter. The gym staff should, by visual cues alone, encourage the rest of the gym to strive for a better life full of hotness. If you’re going to be a lazy incompetent dick, you better be smoking hot. It’s almost acceptable. If I see people behind the counter with worse bodies than my own, I will not be motivated. I’ll turn the fuck around and speed to the nearest Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.

This is what I was faced with: two non-hot inhospitable assholes.

Remember the two H’s: Hospitality and Hotness. It’s important for these important life decisions.

(I’m still searching for another gym.)

Support Paul Walker Weekend

I've been busy lately and haven't been following Paul Walker closely enough. Apparently, he has a new movie, Takers, coming out this weekend. I only saw a 15 second clip while I was watching t.v. with my peripheral vision, but I recognize a Paul Walker flick when I see one. Beautiful people. Action. Paul Walker's abs. Girls in bikinis. Fast cars. Shit blowing up.

Is it going to be Inception? No. But it is a hard boiled caper flick. Robbers. Cops. A femme fatale. Devious plans. Blah. Blah.

I could give a shit.

All that matters is: Paul. Walker.

Takers has an extra special treat: Hayden Christensen wearing a fancy hat.

Uh huh. That's right. Two hotties running around doing shit- who cares exactly what. There are other people in it, too. Matt Dillon. Jay Hernandez. Avatar girl. T.I. Michael Ealy. -Even more hot people doing shit. (Just try to ignore Chris Brown.)

They basically had a casting call for all the Hollywood pretty boys. You know who's missing? Mmmhmm. Matt Damon. Just kidding. He's probably making another Bourne movie or something.

Let's get real. It looks terrible as far as plot, character development, dialogue, blah, blah. But so does porn, right? And we all watch that so..... Buy your tickets. Paul Walker needs our support.

Check out the trailer for yourself. The movie should be renamed: Pretty Boys Doing Shit.