can you hear me now

Today, my friend expressed a wish that she could send texts with her voice talking instead of typed words. We informed her that that is called a phone call. MLIA

10 Reasons to Avoid Talking on the Phone (via The Oatmeal)

you can't make this kind of stuff up

"Karaoke-related killings are not limited to the Philippines. In the past two years alone, a Malaysian man was fatally stabbed for hogging the microphone at a bar and a Thai man killed eight of his neighbors in a rage after they sang John Denver’s 'Take Me Home, Country Roads.' Karaoke-related assaults have also occurred in the United States, including at a Seattle bar where a woman punched a man for singing Coldplay’s 'Yellow' after criticizing his version.

Still, the odds of getting killed during karaoke may be higher in the Philippines, if only because of the ubiquity of the pastime. Social get-togethers invariably involve karaoke. Stand-alone karaoke machines can be found in the unlikeliest settings, including outdoors in rural areas where men can sometimes be seen singing early in the morning. And Filipinos, who pride themselves on their singing, may have a lower tolerance for bad singers.

Indeed, most of the 'My Way' killings have reportedly occurred after the singer sang out of tune, causing other patrons to laugh or jeer.

'The trouble with 'My Way,''said Mr. Gregorio, 'is that everyone knows it and everyone has an opinion.'

- "Sinatra Song Often Strikes Deadly Cord" (NYTimes)

peer pressure

"'More insecurity equals more product need, equals more opportunity for marketers,' said Kit Yarrow, a professor of psychology and marketing at Golden Gate University."

- "Masculinity in a Spray Can" (NYTimes)

oh the weather outside is frightful

Of course it rains nonstop for all of Christmas, and then snows nonstop for the following three days.

Just like how, now that I'm about to leave, there are a million people I need to see and a million and one things I need to do. I guess it's the cycle of life or something.

in anticipation of annual awkward family time

"It's not until you're older that you understand why everyone drinks at family reunions."

- Jackie Puig, the wise Cuban

undetaggables

In an era, when a stray gripe about your boss can land you on an industry blog, when waking up hung over can frantically send you to Facebook to untag your name from photos of the previous night’s frosting-wrestling contest, when shots of you in unflattering jeans become part of your permanent Google search results, there are signs that some are tired of living their lives on the Web.

- "Party On, but No Tweets" (NYTimes)

pause to appreciate the irony of pc's name

Also:

Left: Ali Lohan, Lindsay's little sister

Right: Kelli Tomashoff, from NYC Prep

Just saying. I can't be the only person that sees it.

overheard at lunch

"There are parts of your body that your friends should never have to see. The inside of your uterus is one of them." - our lobbyist

please be punctual

"Excuse me. I know this is random," he said, "but I've been standing here at the metro stop waiting for my friend, and I saw you and said to myself, 'If you don't go and talk to that girl over there, you're going to be kicking yourself later.' You have this grace about you. Do you do yoga or meditate?"

I said no to both.

He was a med student from New Jersey interning in eye surgery and next told me I looked like his ex-girlfriend, some girl from Australia who was skinny and tall and worked in the fashion industry. He kept touching my elbow, but seemed relatively harmless, though a little awkward. He wasn't unattractive, but I wasn't attracted to him either.

He asked if we could grab coffee, but I declined and said I was waiting for my friend for dinner (which was true).

Then shit got weird.

The random touching of my elbow, which seemed a little forced to begin with, led to him touching my hair, saying it was "cool." Next thing I knew:

"I have this really big urge to kiss you right now," is what he's saying to me. "It's spontaneous, a little taboo in broad daylight...."

Mentally I cursed my friend for, of all days, being late that day.

i can feel my tan fading away

I'M BACK IN THE STATES.

Times I've had to catch myself from saying "oh my god" or "thank you" or "excuse me, miss" in Vietnamese: 4.

First words uttered upon landing in LAX: "I'm cold."

Earlier today, I was also craving a sua chua (translation: yogurt drink) while at Target and had to settle for a Yoplait Light yogurt drink instead. I think it was strawberry flavored or something. It was not the same.

Speaking of food, here's a list of the insane amount of food I ate on my last day in Hanoi: Hello Panda, European chocolates, a baguette with jam for breakfast, a yogurt drink with shot of expresso, bun cha for lunch (translation: pork meat in a bowl of nuc mam sauce served with cold rice noodles and vegetables), hua gua dam (translation: mixed fruits -- lychee, avocado, watermelon, jack fruit, dragon fruit, etc. -- with condensed milk in a cup that you add ice to), a baguette with pate for dinner, and bubble tea.

The Vietnamese roommates surprised me with how sentimental they all were, but I've since decided that the world needs more sappiness. Everyone had little bookies that they had people sign (like yearbooks!), so I quickly grabbed a notebook I used to use for Vietnamese class back in June and had people sign that. Iris, Trung, and Sam all gave me cards; VT told me to never feel alone, gave me a little fat cat for good luck, and came to the airport with us to say good-bye; Hoang held my hand as we walked back from bubble tea, sang "She Will Be Loved" with me around the lake -- changing the lyrics every now and then to, "And you will be loved" -- and blew kisses at me through the bus window as we were heading to the airport; Thu, my roommate, cried when I said good-bye; and so did Ha, Johnny's roommate, who came with us to the airport too and chased after Johnny for one last hug as we headed towards customs. The roommates all talked about working hard to be successful so that they can come to America and reunite with us one day, but it's sad to think about how long that might take in reality. (It's also weird to think that if/when they do come to the States, their children will be... me, the first generation Asian-American. And in many ways, I do feel like spending this past summer in Asia has helped me understand my parents a lots more and how they grew up.)

The flight back home was quite an ordeal. I was majorly confused by the service from Hanoi to Incheon, which was both lax and annoyingly persistant. My check-in bags were 22.5 and 26 kg, but the lady didn't say anything to me, despite the 23 kg weight limit. Asiana air service is cool, right? Wrong. The flight attendants during the actual flight kept waking me up for food (at midnight?!? I don't even remember what I ate; I think it was beef and rice or something like that), wine (both white and red, the lady made sure I knew), coffee, and to tell me to put my seat up (or rather, I got woken up by her putting my seat up suddenly). Basically that mean that by the time we got to Incheon airport in Korea, we were all deliriously, hilariously exhausted. I passed out for about 2 minutes of bliss on the padded seats in a waiting area (seats without arm rests are a traveler's best friend), but then got hustled along by the others in search of an information desk. We had a 13-hour layover in Korea, so we were determined to go into the city, even though Alex pointed out that we'd probably either get raped or robbed in our state of exhaustion/sleepiness/incoherence. We ended up getting tickets for a 5-hour long city tour of Seoul (it's an hour bus ride from the airport to the city) that included seeing the palace, a museum (that even had a section on food in our exhibit on Korean life -- that's Asia for you; we take our food seriously), a tourist shopping street (I got a handmade necklace there for 6000 wong), and lunch (bibimbap for me, which came in a clay pot).

Honestly, I have no clear recollection of the flight from Seoul to LA. I slept for about 10 of the 11 hours, waking up only for food (I had some beef and rice dish again that you wrapped in lettuce and then kim chi with rice) and then for about 30 minutes of "What Happened in Vegas" right before we landed. Overall, I was pretty impressed by the Korean facilities. The Incheon airport is really nice -- incredibly clean and orderly with lots of things to do in the airport -- and the plane itself was pretty comfortable, with little side thingies on your headrest (that let you rest your head on the side so that you wouldn't get those awful neck cramps), good food, and individual TV screens that let you select which movies you wanted to play when.

American airlines seriously need to take some tips from Asian ones because flying domestic on Northwest after flying international on Asiana was 1) a total, unorganized mess (I didn't even get to say good-bye in person to Johnny, Rosie, and Caroline because the whole, confusing ordeal at baggage claim got me separated from them all!) and 2) not at all as comfortable. I was stuck sitting bitchseat in the middle of a 3-person row and I'm pretty sure I tried to put my head on the shoulder of the girl sitting next to me, thinking in my dreamy, sleepy state that she was Yushen. Awkward.

Things I've had to readjust to upon returning to America:
- how wonderfully clean and modern the bathrooms are
- how intense the water pressure in my bathroom is
- how large and thick toilet paper, kleenex, towels, etc. are
- how heavy metal utensils are
- how quiet the traffic is
- how inefficient NOT jaywalking is
- how large supermarkets are
- how refreshingly not invasive salespeople are
- how clean everything everywhere is
- how conversational strangers are
- how quickly everyone speaks English
- how many chocolate products there are
- how many cars there are
- how orderly traffic is
- how large personal space bubbles are
- how big and tall everyone is
- how few Asians there are in my town
- no longer having wet towelettes at every meal
- dry heat
- my cell phone's ring tone

You'll probably notice that the first few things on the above list were all bathroom-related. Let's just say I'm probably still psychologically recovering from our trip into the Central Region. (There were toilets in pure darkness, toilets that were just holes, toilets that were just holes and needed to be manually flush, toilets that were just holes on moving trains, toilets that weren't even holes in the ground but were actually changing rooms, meaning that you'd have to pee on the floor [...I didn't actually use those...], you get the idea.)

In other news, jet lag is a bitch. I woke up at around 6:45 am today, saw the school bus go by my window, wondered why summer school was going so late, and then realized first that it was still only Tuesday in this time zone and second that schools here have already started. Insanity. I spent my first day back home running errands and also picked up both a new, unlined, 240-page Moleskin journal (to replace my old journal that's now completely filled, thanks to this summer) and the Quick & Easy Vietnamese Home Cooking for Everyone cookbook, which -- after flipping through the pictures and the index -- I've decided has all my favorite dishes, except for hua gua dam.

My goal for this summer is officially to successfully make nem (translation: spring rolls). Asia Mart, here I come.

sprichst du englisch

I need to stop speaking English loudly in quiet places, assuming that people won't understand what I'm saying.

Yesterday, Phil, Thu, and I went to dinner next door at Kaiser Kaffee, when a group of about five 30 and 40-something year old Vietnamese men came in and sat down at the table across from us, all of them in white button-down dress shirts ("white collar" is apparently taken quite literally here). They ordered a minikeg of imported German beer, hot dogs, and cigarettes for their table. I commented to Phil about how I loved Asian bossmen getting drunk after work.

I noticed a few of them staring over at our table several times -- and you could definitely tell that they were talking about us -- when, just as we had our plates cleared, the waitress came over with three empty beer glasses and told us that the Asian bossmen wanted to invite us to join them. The men immediately came over to fill up our mugs with beer, cheers were said all around, and introductions were made. Turns out, not only were they all fluent in English, but two of them were actually working in London, and all of them were CEOs or some sort of managing director at major finance/investment banking firms. It also turns out that they were celebrating a birthday, which is why more and more Asian bossmen kept coming in the door to join the party. More cheers were said, extra food was ordered for our end of the table (though none of us ate any since we had just finished dinner), business cards and cell phone numbers were exchanged, and the Asian bossmen ended up paying for our meal as well.

Who needs college networking workshops when there are German-themed cafes next door?

i blame all the hanoian air pollution

You know that thing everyone has that makes them super self-conscious? Some people don't like their teeth, so they smile with their mouth closed. Some don't like their toes, so they never wear flip flops.

I don't like wearing glasses.

Not only do I feel like supernerd when I wear glasses, but more so it drives me absolutely crazy how my black frames constantly slip down my nose, especially in hot, sweaty weather, causing me to feel like the only way I can see the world clearly is by literally tilting my nose up in the air continuously (it's fashion over function, seriously).

Unfortunately for me, I went to the SOS clinic nearby to get my wonky left eye checked out and, turns out, I have acute conjunctivitis, which, believe me, sounds so much worse than it actually is. What it means though is that I have to put in eye drops 3 times a day for four days -- and during those four days, I cannot wear contacts.

Guess where I'm going tomorrow morning?
BANGKOK, THAILAND.

Guess who's going to be supernerd in Bangkok, Thailand?
You're looking at her.

where your boyfriend at

At 7 this morning, just as I had gotten out of the shower, I hear a knock on my door. (Did housekeeping come this early? Was I late for breakfast? Was my director telling me something about my internship since it was my first day of work?) Thu (the roomie) was still asleep, so I quickly put on a bra, underwear, and shorts, grab a dress out of the closet (they were already knocking for the third time so there was no time to actually put it a shirt on or to yell at them to hold on a second since Thu was sleeping), hold it up to my chest and open the door a crack, wet hair and all.

Only to see Philip and his Vietnamese roommate standing in front of my door with about six long-stemmed flowers. I could make out some roses.

And, always the lady, the first thing out of my mouth is, "Holy shit! Fuck! Hold on." After which I proceeded to shut the door in their face so I could find a shirt to put on.

Sometimes I amaze even myself.

Turns out, the guys had gotten up at 4 this morning to go to the flower market that's open from 2 to 5 am and bought flowers for all the girls, including two directors. Phil had told me last night that he had planned to do it, but I didn't think he actually would, especially since we had been up late talking with Yushen and Thu.

Anyway, to make up for my lack of grace (and for essentially shooing the guys away so I could put on real clothes and dry my dripping hair), Thu and I wrote a little thank you note on Thu's "special" stationary (she told me she bought it just to write letters to me on -- ISN'T SHE THE SWEETEST THING EVER? I had to ask if it was alright that the first letter we write is to the guys, and she said that was okay). It was so pretty, with flowers and the Eiffel Tower and fashion cut-outs and stuff on it in a collage-like fashion on a pink background (I can tell by her taste in stationary that me and Thu are going to get along just fine) and it even came with a tiny little envelope.

I saw Phil and his roommate downstairs at breakfast later and asked him if they had liked our card because we had loved the flowers. He said that apparently his roommate had liked our card so much that he had asked if he could keep it because he had never gotten something like that before. I felt a little guilty because I had signed the note off, as a joke, "The back of your head is ridiculous, Lucie and Thu," in tribute of our maybe 2-hour-long YouTube session last night (and since Phil had been all, "So can I have yo numba?" at the door earlier), but apparently Phil's roommate thought it was hilarious and told one of our directors, Hiliary, all about how we had an inside joke.

My first day of work has definitely been off to an interesting start.

way to go

Great. I'm pretty sure I just addressed the head of the English department for the publishing house that I'll be working at this summer as Mr. [His First Name] in my email, forgetting the possibility that the Vietnamese probably follow the same custom Chinese do of having their first name come after their last name. I was hoping I wouldn't embarrass myself until I actually stepped foot onto Vietnamese soil, but apparently that was just way too ambitious of an assumption.

High five, self.

let's not even think about the sorority rush process

Welcome to the awkwardness of reuniting with old high school friends during college vacations.