Category Archives: neurotic

shit that scares me, pisses me off, or just otherwise makes me go nuts (not always in a bad way)

YOU ARE A DIRTY HAMSTER!

ew, crumbies.

So right now I’m talking to my friend Ryan and we are talking about dirty roommates and it’s finally giving me something to blog about.

I’m not Mrs. Clean or anything but I have to say, my hygiene is up there (I wouldn’t be able to do what I do for a living if I was a slob) and I am a very courteous roommate and house guest. Can’t say that for everyone though but I’m not naming names. 1) To protect people’s low down dirty shame 2) Some of the examples I will name doesn’t necessarily apply to anyone I’ve personally lived with, just observations I’ve made when going to people’s homes or hearing about other friends’ nightmare living situations, and 3) Nobody can admit that they are the dirty roommate. Either they are in deep, dirty denial or they really don’t realize that they live in filth.

I don’t know how some people can leave all their belongings on the floor. I mean ALL OF IT. Like I would not know if you had carpet or hardwood floors because I am knee deep in your shit kind of mess. Like I told Ryan…leaving clothing on the floor is like squirting lotion on the floor and applying it on your body. OK so clothing isn’t the worse thing one can leave on the floor. Let’s say, bowls of food, or bowls with remnants of food. That’s not savory…what the fuck is a bowl of oddly colored milk (finished your Fruity Pebbles/Lucky Charms/Fruit Loops I see) doing on your fucking floor anyway? What is that growing out of your half eaten yogurt cup? Are those ants crawling on your semi-licked lollipop? How do you not have diarrhea or some kind of plague?

OK..I’m being too harsh. Whatever landfill you want to make out of your own room should not be any business of mine. What IS a business of mine would be common areas like the living room, kitchen/dining room, bathroom, and front entrance. The living room normally doesn’t get that messy from most living rooms I’ve seen so I’ll skip that for now. One of my biggest pet peeves is the smell of food when I’m no longer eating it. Ask my co-workers they call me Lysol lady for a reason. Why does it smell like food when I’m not eating? It’s not because somebody else is eating it. It’s because someone forgot to wash the dishes/pan/pot/spatula for the past week. Or maybe because the food is in the fridge, uncovered, and rotting away. Or, it’s in the trash, at the top, threatening to spill over but nobody is willing to take it the fuck out.

Speaking of the garbage, how hard is it to take the garbage out? Maybe if your garbage shoot was on the first floor and you live in a very inconvenient dangerous high rise then sure, you’d want to put that off. Or if you live acres away from your front door. This is NYC, there’s a garbage shoot on every floor and we have acres of nothing. Maybe you like maggots and raccoons but I’m not a big fan.

Oh yea, back to the common areas. I hate dirty bathrooms. You may think, “well nobody likes a dirty bathroom, Becky”. Well you thought wrong. Apparently some girls love dirty bathrooms because their bathrooms are constantly dirty. Take your fucking long hair out of the tub drain/sink/floor. Ew, speaking of the sink, one time I was visiting a friend in their dorm and the light was broken so I dropped something in the sink and when I reached for it, I felt something hard and small with something slimy on top. My first guess was a dried up contact and then a gooey booger being the slimy thing on top. What the fuck. Since this was a dorm, it could’ve been anyone of those dirty bitches. UGH my poor hand. OK back to what I was saying… wipe the toothpaste off the mirror, why are you standing thaaat close anyway? Don’t you know where your teeth are? And no, our shower curtains aren’t THAT frosted, that is fucking mildew, woman!

Well, as much as I dislike living at home sometimes, I do like the fact that at least my mother is a very, very clean person. She’s a neat freak actually and she drives me nuts with her constant nagging but at least that nagging taught me not to be a dirty hamster. (I love that line, sometimes Situation comes up with some funny one-liners…the season finale sucked btw). Not sure why it didn’t work on my brother, he’s kind of a dirty one too.

I may be messy at times, but my mess consists of random papers all over my desk or clothes on my bed. So there is a fine line between “messy” and “dirty” and many people trudge their mucky shoes all over that line. I hate clutter and I hate grime and I honestly don’t know how some people can stand it. I’m sorry if some things came out harsh and if you felt like it may have been about you, but I am not sorry for pointing it out. You should all be sorry for making clean, hygienic people live in your realm of uncleanliness.

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If “Real” Woman Have Curves, I Guess Only The Bottom Half Of Me Exists.

curves up top!

First off, notice the irony? Victoria Beckham is teeny tiny but she has huge (fake) boobs. So is she a real woman or not? Because technically, she has curves, they are just on one part of her waif-like body. BTW, I love Posh and I love her bag even more.

Secondly, I am sick of women’s magazines embracing the bigger woman while shunning thinner girls. Don’t get me wrong, everybody needs loving, so why can’t everybody get the same amount of positive attention and support? Almost every women’s mag I see contains the title “REAL WOMAN HAVE CURVES” . Sooo women who don’t have curves aren’t real women? If putting size 0-4 models in pictorials are a bad influence for girls, encouraging anorexia or whatever, isn’t putting double digit models encouraging childhood obesity? That was mean, I know, but I’m annoyed and this is my blog I can say whatever catty thing I feel like 🙂

I’m not bashing on the bigger ladies out there. I’m criticizing the mags that are sooo obviously trying to suck up to a certain demographic of readers (because you know skinny girls are too busy making themselves throwup to read a magazine…KIDDING KIDDING!) by embracing a “women with curves” aka meatier gals, while making the smaller women feel like they have something to apologize for. Thin-guilt?

I’m a size 2, in some circles I’m thin, in others I’m average. Most of my girl friends (and some guy friends even) are super petite double 0 types so of course I feel like a giant compared to them. You know how tiny some Asians can be, haha. I have my weight and image insecurities too from time to time. I have cellulite, I have stretch marks, my weight fluctuates every other day, and I’ve weighed about 15lbs heavier less than 10 years ago. BUT do you see any women’s mags telling you to embrace your cellulite? NO.

Referring to my title, “…only the bottom half of me exists”, yes I am implying I have small boobs. Now I am outright saying it. Sure, I can enjoy the luxury of not having to worry about those babies going out of control when I jog or don’t wear a supportive bra, but hey! Small boobed women have their struggles too. It’s embarrassing not to fill out certain shirts or dresses and to have people know if you are wearing a padded bra or not. Am I not a real woman? I have body image issues!

All right, all right I got off track. What I’m trying to say is, yes, we need to promote a healthy body image but healthy can be anybody. You can have a healthy size 10 but you can also have a healthy size 00, it doesn’t just come in ONE shape, size, form, weight, dress size, etc. Same with beauty. That hourglass figure is the ideal image of sexy, but we can’t all be Scarlett Johannson now can we? Some of us are wristwatches (what I call myself, smaller on my polar ends and rounder near the middle…my unusually large booty for an Asian, not my stomach), some are alarm clocks. Nothing wrong with that. Just eat right, exercise, work hard play hard love hard laugh hard, and wear clothes that compliment your figure and make you feel like you are the shit. THAT is what a real woman looks like.

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I’m Not In A New York State Of Mind.

I’m an NYC girl at heart, and this is where I eventually want to live, raise a family, and grow old and grey, with a side of Botox from Manhattan’s leading dermatologist of course.

However, it’s all I’ve ever known. Aside from my short stint living off-campus (shoutout to SJU) during college, I’ve never been away from home, much less the state of New York, for that matter. It’s strange, because I’ve always been self-sufficient and independent and have a tendency to go against the grain. Yet, I’ve had all my schooling and work experience in NYC. My brother Ben, on the other hand, is a big mama’s boy, spoiled, and is somewhat of a homebody. Yet, from the time he was 17 (late birthday) he’s gone to school 500 miles away and come this fall, will be attending grad school in Philly. Not to mention, his career will probably take him across borders and oceans, whether he wants to go or not.

I just need to experience life on my own, outside of our awesome oddly-shaped state, and just live. The thing is, I’m not brave. I fear that my mom will get lonely. I fear that my friends will slowly forget about me, I fear that I will slowly forget about everyone else because I have a tendency to be emotionally detached. There were many times when I wanted to book a one-way ticket to LA and stop myself because I have no idea how I would support myself, plus I hate driving. I would also never live anywhere north of NYC because I hate the cold, and I would never live in a non-urban area. See, I’m my biggest obstacle.

Will I be able to give up on the convenience (and urine-scented hobos) of the MTA? The miles of shops, bars, food sources, and who knows what else? The millions of faces that cross my path on a daily basis? Happy hour with friends? Late night runs for junk food in the neighborhood?

You know what? I’ll start small. Maybe Philly won’t be so bad, since Ben will be there. I’ve considered the DC area as well, since I have friends and acquaintances not too far away. Maybe if I’m a really big wuss, I’ll pick Jersey, but then again I doubt my mom would let me move to Jersey if I can just commute. Afterall, I did spend a good portion of my day travelling to and from SJU (Never again do I want to ride on a D train for 55 minutes, then spend 25 on the E, and another 15 on the Q46. This is hardly including wait time for these Godforsaken modes of transport).

I know I will return one day, and maybe I’m just taking this city for granted, but NYC, and I? We need a break. I feel both overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time. I often feel this way during the winter (S.A.D.D.?) but never, ever under the glorious rays of a proper NYC spring/summer have I felt this restless. I don’t need a vacation. I don’t need a weekend getaway. I need to take a leave of absence. It’s a journey away from home that I can’t avoid for too much longer. Some other state is calling out my name, but which one? Where?

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They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?

don't shoot us!

I’m kidding! They don’t shoot single people, just the annoying ones haha. Yes, this is another SATC episode title from awhile back, but I don’t remember what it was about, just thought it was catchy. (BTW, 4 more days!)

Listen, being single is great and all but I’m really tired of people who tell me “oh it’s way better to be single than to be tied down”. You know who those people usually turn out to be? One half of a couple. If it’s so great, why are you still attached? Leave the old ball and chain and come wreck the town with me then! Just kidding. I appreciate the random pep talks I get from my friends when I become a lost child and am unsure about what I want relationship-wise, but sometimes I just don’t need it. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I know they care and want me to look on the bright side but sometimes I don’t need to look on the bright side. I’m bright enough. I just can’t shine 24/7 for everyone. Sometimes I just need somebody to bitch about shit with me. Then maybe whip out our stilettos and go for a drink. Or a spoon and dig into that ice cream and go on a DVD marathon. Or just break a sweat on a nice jog by the bay. You get the point.

I wouldn’t complain or be confused if I was really having the time of my (single) life. Sometimes I am. It’s exciting, it’s liberating, and it’s fresh. Sometimes it’s not all that fun. Sometimes it’s not all that anything. What’s wrong with me wanting some stability? Most of all, I just want to be inspired to bring out my sweet heart side. I don’t feel comfortable being really nice to someone all the time who I don’t feel will ever show me that side in themselves. Yes, it’s like a blinking contest but instead of blinking, it’s acts of kindness. Seriously, what kind of assholes are we that we have to wait for the other person to react first? Big assholes, I tell you.

Anywhoo, it’s almost summer, so thank goodness for that. I’d hate to sound like a pathetic whiny little girl, because this doesn’t consume my days… I just need to let it out from time to time and I’m so glad that I don’t have to deal with my frozen toes, the sun setting before 5pm, or static-prone winter clothing. New York, I think I’m likin’ you again 😉

In the end..I think everyone should have something or someone that brings a smile to their faces. For me, for now, it’s fun, isn’t that one obvious? Let’s have some fun, this beat is sick! I will not be riding any disco sticks, HUT! But I won’t judge you if you do 🙂

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“Are We Sluts?”

sexpert

There’s 23 more days to go until SATC 2 comes out! So of course I go on my little Sex And The City DVD marathon. I don’t remember precisely which episode it was, but it was one of the catchier titles of the show.

So to get on topic, what makes a girl a slut? Is it the number of people she slept with? Is it how she went out about it? Is it what she did during sex? Is it why she had sex? Is it who she had sex with? This topic comes up more frequently than some people might realize or care to admit. Not that most women will admit to their slutness (yes, slutness as opposed to sluttiness, which is the tendency to be a slut but slutness is just straight out being a slut. I won’t take credit for this term, but I haven’t heard anyone use it in that context, yet).

I for one, am not in denial and I can honestly say I am far from having the keys to the slut kingdom. Despite many rumors and misconceptions about me, I have not been around town. My number is 3. Not the made-up three that some girls supposedly say when they don’t count anal/blow jobs/drunken one night stands/regrettable hit-it-and-quit-its, (btw, I don’t judge my friends, from the virgins to the nymphos, I got love for you all, just spare me the explicit details) but a real deal 3. Who knows? Maybe that number will change by the end of the month/season/year but that’s what it is for now. But some how, people have once believed (or maybe they still do?) that I was bed hopping left and right. Oh, the stories I have about the shit that went around about me, they just make my nonslutty blood boil! I’ve shed tears about it, actually that’s how much they hurt me because they appeared out of nowhere. Now I can understand if I was caught in a compromising position, but nothing like that ever happened. The rumors literally appeared out of thin air…thin, LYING air.

The summer of 2007 was a fun, fun year but it was also laced with a lot of bullshit. Namely, the Slut Tales of Rebecca Chan. Yes, this Rebecca Chan.

*Slut Tale#1:
Author: Ray/Repo

I didn’t find out he (falsely) told everyone this ridiculous rumor that I slept with Predator until over a year after he spread this malicious, disgusting rumor. He insisted that he saw us making out somewhere at a party somewhere and then that “making out” story turned into straight out banging. Well that’s just clue numero uno that this is nothing more than a made-up story. I didn’t even realize his/our friends took this rumor seriously until I noticed them mentioning it frequently with a lot of gusto. I finally questioned them and they said that they really believed this rumor. You know why? because I “didn’t defend myself properly” when they brought it up to me. WHAT? All I said was “no, that never happened” and laughed it off. BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE! Why would I waste my breath defending myself against something that A) did not happen! and B) I didn’t know people actually took it seriously. Well that incident happened years ago but man, that just got me so angry and hurt, I couldn’t believe the guys I hung out so closely with during that summer really believed such a thing. Just the mere mention of it can piss me off, even til this day.

*SLUT TALE#2:
Author: Unknown, but most likely an SJU troublemaker

This one just got me confused because I’ve barely had any social interaction with the boy I supposedly slept with. Hell, I don’t even remember bumping into him at school! Well this was also during the summer of 2007 (oh, what a summer!) but again, I was one of the last to find out, despite the rumor containing my name. It was in the middle of my arguments with Albert that he yelled out something along the lines of, “You slept with Slash?! [insert expletive]”. At that time I had no idea what the hell a “slash” was and Albert provided no help in further explaining his exclamation. Then I sat and thought about it, and I realized what he said…this “slash” was a person…it was his fraternity nickname and apparently I had slept with him. Someone who was my little brother’s age, someone who I barely know, and someone who I’m sure barely knows me. See why I was more confused by this one than mad or offended? As mad as I was at the Predator rumor, at least people who believe it were probably those who’ve seen us say hello to each other at parties or some other social event..but with this kid, seriously I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen him in person on one hand. I then asked Slash himself (oh the wonders of facebook) and he also replied with confusion on how this ridiculous rumor started, which made me extra confused because he heard it months before I did. Damnit, why am I always the last to hear about rumors that involve me?

*SLUT TALE#3:
Author: Kam

This is a tie-in with Slut Tale#1. Out of all the guy friends I was hanging out with during that summer, I was closest to Kam, and I confided in him about how hurt I felt about the horrible rumors about me and why anyone would ever believe them. Instead of comfort and support, Kam told me even he believed them because..get this..I WAS BLONDE. (Not Barbie-blonde, but I had light brown hair with blonde highlights for an extended period of time). I was blonde, and was out partying a lot. Well listen up you real sluts! You better darken up those tresses before you want to hit the town because you will be found out and everybody will know how big of a slut you are!

Woah..this blog was actually going to be about the double standards that women have to face about sex but then I just carried away with ranting about my own business. I think I’ll just save the original intended material for a later time.

So this is the end of the Slut Tales Saga. There are probably more that escape my memory, and I would not be surprised if there were a handful more that I have yet to hear about (maybe summer 2010 will be my lucky year). I’m not bitching and whining because I’m still horribly bitter or anything. In fact, I am still friends with with the “authors” and I love those guys, and I’m sure after 3 years or so of knowing me, they know they had it all wrong in the beginning. I will say though, that it has made me a much more guarded person than I was at 22. Since then, I’ve gone back to my brunette roots and toned it down on the partying (and hanging around too many frat boys). After all, it’s healther for my hair, liver, and sanity, respectively. 😉

P.S. Today is my mother’s birthday. I love how I thought of THIS title today, of all days haha. Happy Birthday Mama!

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Ugly.

Couldn’t think of a an appropriate picture to put in the heading and I’m not in the mood to be all crafty today, I just want to get it off my chest.

Anyway, my weekend was interesting, to say the least. It started out well, had dinner with my buddy Phil and then met up with my bff Ceci later on for drinks. We bumped into Phil’s 2 other friends at this bar and sat, ate, and drank for another hour or so. I’m not entirely sure how much Phil drank but he didn’t seem too be doing well, to say the least. I was actually pretty alarmed, I usually don’t see guys react the way he did to alcohol, and on top of that I rarely see him drunk anyway, so I didn’t know if this was normal for him. One of his friends commented that it was probably do to Phil’s insane new diet/lifestyle that was affecting his tolerance, I won’t disagree with that.

While the two guys went to party, Ceci and I (with drunk Phil in tow) decided to call it a night and cabbed it back to Ceci’s place in Queens. In between that time, we got out of our first cab after a few avenues because Phil felt sick and went to puke. He also walked upstairs to a condo and puked in their little garden. The doorman was not amused but I kind of was, haha. Since we were a block away from Ceci’s store, we walked there to use the bathroom. We then hailed another cab and went on our merry way. Phil kept apologizing every other minute and to be completely honest, Ceci and I were not mad at him at all. Thank goodness he wasn’t one of those big, heavy, messy ass drunks (AHEM, I will never forget how drunk Ray got at our first loft party in college. Let’s just say it was NOT fun being puked on by a guy significantly taller than me since his mouth is above my head, and the elevator decided to stop working so we had to lug his ass down 8 or 9 flights of stairs) because it made maneuvering him much easier. We really did have fun for those few hours, it was a laid back night and he really did not have anything to apologize for or being embarassed about. Shit happens! However, we got enough of his apologizing, giving slurred directions to the cabbie, and insistence on paying for our cab ride that I told him to just shut up and go to sleep. Well he did eventually shut up and go to sleep but not before he told me that I was ugly and no man would ever touch me. I know that was just the drunkness speaking but that really stung. However, it didn’t hit me too hard at the moment so it was easy to brush off, plus it’s a waste of time to talk reason to a drunk person who’s half way passed out in the back of a cab.

Come next morning, Phil was back to being himself, in fact, he was on his way to the gym at like, 8:30 AM or something. I met up with him a bit later and got an OK workout. I’ve become a lazy gym-goer, I haven’t gotten my “workout groove” back but I need to whip myself back into shape for beach season! I was feeling particularly ugly that morning (and I was hungry) so I decided to bring up Phil’s comments from the night before…and give him HELL for it like the bratty little bitch that I am. Seriously, I am such a biotch and a half when it comes to confronting people, I try to control myself but I can’t stop that snowball from collecting more bitchy snow once it starts rolling down that bitchy mountain. I need limits. Anyway, he has no recollection of saying such things and apologized profusely. I kept giving him a hard time, half because I really was offended but half of it was because I was somewhat amused and wanted him to feel bad. See? I told you I was a bitch. Anyway, workout ended, we got some food, and all through the meal it was somewhat awkward because Phil was hanging his head in shame and/or defeat because I found something wrong/insulting with anything that came out of his mouth. We finished eating, he kept apologizing, and I kept being a bitch. I ended up driving home and ready to relax at home.

I got home but I didn’t relax. The more I thought about it, the more angry I got at his comments. Then something just snapped and I started crying. I was crying so much I just ended up falling asleep. What the fuck was wrong with me, you may wonder? I’m not entirely sure. I do tend to get kind of lonely and depressed when I’m alone at home, but I am very sensitive about my appearance and I know, I KNOW that I used to be ugly. Even though I do feel that my appearance has improved over the years, I know full well that it didn’t happen without deliberate effort so I’m no “natural beauty” just to let you know. It also reminded me of the times Albert used to tell me I was ugly, or at least “too ugly to be dating him” and those words have always haunted me through the years. Needless to say, that sting never never went away and it reared it’s ugly head again in the back of a cab from the mouth of one of my friends, who has, for the most part always had nicer things to say towards the way I looked.

Ceci, who went to work that morning, told me that Phil dropped by her store with a card and lunch for her as an act of apology/thank you for getting drunk and having us take care of him. Although I do think that was an extremely considerate and nice gesture, I was a bit let down that he did not seem to have a sincere intention to do anything for me, someone who is a closer friend and someone he insulted. I texted him and told him he was an asshole and his response is what is still puzzling me..I deleted the text out of frustration but he responded something with the likeness of his tendency to sabotage relationships when he feels like he’s getting closer to someone. Do you have a “wtf?” face on right now? Because I STILL have my “wtf?” face on right now. I have no clue what to make of that but for some reason I wasn’t compelled to ask him to explain further at that moment. Yes, I’m an emotional sloth, apparently. I was perplexed, but most of all, very, very hurt and disappointed. For what felt like the first time since I’ve known him, I had no clue what he was saying. He has always been a straight forward, no bullshit beat around the bush kind of guy and me being the smartass that I am, thought I had him all figured out. Well obviously I don’t because I am still vexed over his comment. Seeing the negative side to everything, I immediately felt like he was trying to tell me that he was tired of seeing my face so frequently. He had mentioned a couple of times that we’ve been seeing each other quite a lot over a short period of time. While I had no problem with that, maybe he did. Well, could’ve fooled me, because he was the one that would invite me to hang out. Maybe he didn’t want me to be part of his little inner circle, maybe he thought we were getting too close for comfort for a guy and a girl who weren’t dating, maybe he’s in a secret relationship and felt guilty about hanging out with one of his female friends too much, who the hell knows? I wish I knew. But I felt like I was being broken up with or something. I was really sad, and started to cry again. Wow, when I cry, I just don’t stop, do I?

I had trouble sleeping, because there was still so much I wanted to say and so much I wanted to ask him, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be satisfied by anything he had to say, plus he really wasn’t making any effort to further apologize to me, so maybe he was finally fed up with my bitchy self.

This morning, Ceci called me in the morning to ask how I was feeling. She knew how hurt and preoccupied about my insecure thoughts about Phil’s “ugly” comments and wanted to make sure I wasn’t still driving myself mad over them. The thing is, I didn’t feel better. I felt worse. I thought about how big of a bitch I was to someone who was sincerely sorry for what he had no recollection of saying but I not only refused to accept his apology, I just kept being a huge bitch about it. It wasn’t only this, I felt guilty about realizing what a great friend he was to me, and how crappy I was to him. To be fair to myself, I did start acting much kinder to him, and treating him like a true friend, because that’s what he is to me. I did all that I could to busy myself on this lazy Sunday so I wouldn’t feel like such crap…I think I even got a slight sunburn from walking to 8th Avenue and back without SPF (how DARE I?).

It’s 7:35 PM right now and I still feel like crap. This is the first time I felt like I couldn’t approach Phil about something, because I think this is the first time I really got this mad at him and was such a huge bitch about, which he didn’t deserve. For some reason, I feel like things won’t be the same between us, and that saddens me. I want to call him and talk things over but for some reason, I just don’t think it will be resolved. Once that awkwardness/tension exists, it’s hard to erase. I ruined my own weekend because I have no verbal filter sometimes. I wish we could immediately clear the air, hug, slap each other on the back and continue to be OK again. For all I know, he may no longer even be thinking about this issue, so maybe I should stop already. I just can’t help it, I feel terrible about my behavior. My friends are some of the most important people in my life and it just sucks that I let my temper disfigure our relationship. And that, is precisely why I feel very ugly on the inside right now.

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Meat, it’s what’s for dinner.

So my 30 days of pledging to be vegetarian is over! No, Ceci didn’t wear a chicken costume or stand in front of my house holding an “Eat Me” sign, I’m not that cruel. A lot of people asked me why I was taking such a pledge..well “asking” would be putting it politely…certain people decided  to interrogate me and then proceeded to ridicule me before I had a chance to explain my reasons for the month of vegetarianism.

Reason #1: FREE WILL. Because I CAN.

Reason #2: I consumed too much junk over the holidays and wanted a different approach to getting healthier and ridding my body of those toxins so I decided that going vegetarian for a month might be good for me. I think I should’ve given up a different type of toxin instead, that would’ve been much smarter (refer to previous post)

Reason #3: I don’t eat much meat anyways, so I figure, if I had to cut something out of my diet, I’d rather forfeit the animal carcass than say, baked goods. Don’t you dare take away my chewy chocolate chip cookies or blondie brownies!

How did I do? I did quite well, thank you. Verdict: I would not make a good vegetarian. I’d make a craptastic vegan, while we’re at it.

I didn’t crave any meat until the last week of the pledge. I started dreaming about Bonchon chicken. That’s when I knew it was quitting time and I couldn’t go an extra day without meat. My brother asked me what my first “meat product” was and sadly I could only say it was a slice of ham from Costco with my morning egg sandwich lol. Oh well, I made up for it by having a char siew bao (roast pork bun) the next day from Mei Li Wah.

Back to the reason why I started this entry. It’s mainly to vent about the people who did not support me through this but those who made me feel like an idiot for doing so. I don’t understand why people make a huge fuss over one person deciding not to eat meat for a month. Well that just means there’s more meat for you to beast out on, doesn’t it? I’m not depriving you of anything, so use that mouth to eat your damn food instead of criticizing me. I wasn’t being self righteous or PETA-ing out on anybody. In fact, none of my reasons for going veg had to do with animal rights at all. I won’t lie, I really didn’t give the animals a second thought. It’s called the circle of life, so eating an animal is not cruel. Is anybody going to shoot red paintballs at bears, sharks, tigers, etc that eat a person? NO. But, I’m being a hypocrite here. My point was, people have many reasons why they choose what they eat (or don’t eat) and they should not be criticized for it. I expected my hen-pecking mother to bitch about it (surprisingly, she did it less than I thought and she was actually somewhat supportive) but to my disappointment, my own peers were the ones that gave me an earful. It wasn’t all bad though, I did have a handful of people that really did support me or were understanding of what I wanted to do.

On a happier (and more delicious) note, it feels good to just eat whatever I want now, but it was a fun challenge to limit myself on something, it really made me learn more about the food an how it effected my body (I barely got any stomachaches during the month). This “food freedom” only lasted a week before I found out I had an abscess in the back of my throat that hurt like hell and was sick because of a viral infection of my pharynx. Yippee! There goes my spicy food for the week. So much for attempting to preserve my health.

Well, the semester is quickly coming to an end, I’m on my spring break but it’s 40 degrees outside and dropping. I’ve got a few things to look forward to, so all is not lost. I need a job though, because my spending is ridiculous. I get high off shopping, sometimes I feel my pupils dilating and my heart racing. What an expensive yet pretty drug, haha.

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