cindy's world

Meet my boy Dwaine. (Actually, if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ve “met” Dwaine already, several times.)

Dwaine is a high-powered executive in the finance and mortgaging biz. He’s smart, witty, sophisticated, and has his suits and shirts custom-made by clothing designers and tailors. He manages multi-million dollar accounts and hires and fires people older than him. People he trains inevitably and quickly become major money producers.

Yesterday evening, Dwaine and I had the following phone conversation.
Dwaine: You’re really living the life, Cindy. I wanna take all those vacations.
Me: Let’s go to Jamaica! You can show us around to where your family goes.
Dwaine: I’ve been back so much lately that I’m really kind of burned out on Jamaica. Let’s plan something for Brazil or Australia, those are two places I really want to go.
Me: You know, Brazil is supposed to have some of the most beautiful women in the world. But Australia has koala bears.
Dwaine: Aren’t koala bears the cutest darn things in the world? I don’t mean to sound gay, but they’re just so cute! They’re a lot cuter than most other animals.
Me: Yeah, let’s go to Australia so I can go hug a koala bear. I probably couldn’t bring one home, tho. Customs wouldn’t allow it. But I wanna have one hug me like they hug a tree. It can just hang onto my middle.
Dwaine: *pause* Now I wanna hug a koala bear.
Me: *laughing at his wishful statement*
Dwaine: They really are the only animals that automatically hug you just to hug you.
Me: Well, monkeys, but they’re kinda creepy to me.
Dwaine: Yeah, I don’t care for monkeys. I don’t want something that’ll hug me and then try to pick my pockets at the same time. Koala bears hug you just to hug you, cuz they hug trees, there’s no ulterior motive. Like dogs, when they hug you, they’re trying to hump your leg. Koalas just hug you.
*silence on both ends. We’re both thinking the same thing.*
Dwaine: I wanna go hug a koala bear.
Me: You know I’m gonna blog this.
Dwaine: You can title it “I Wanna Hug a Koala Bear.” But you better not make me sound gay!
Me: Okay, I’ll title it “Dwaine wants to hug a koala bear.” And then the body of the post will say, “He told me so last night.” That’s it.
Dwaine: No, you better qualify that statement if you’re gonna write that! You have to explain what we were talking about!

Okay, so I gave it some context, but does it really make him look any less sissy?

I love my friends.

In Beijing, the tour group went to visit an emperor Ming’s tomb. We didn’t go underground into the actual tombs as my mother had when she went on her China tour years ago, because the government no longer allows visits down there. Too many eery things happened to visitors. They’d get sick, they’d get into car accidents on their way back, people were seemingly possessed by evil spirits. One such thing happened to my parents’ friend’s wife. Within steps into the Ming tomb, she gagged and passed out. Her face was purple by the time they brought her out of there. For years after that, her health was failing to the point where doctors who could not figure out what was wrong with her told them to prepare for her death. She’d get freakishly cold sometimes sitting in a room and cower from chilled drafts that no one else felt, and she’d sometimes feel like she were being smothered and gasp for air. They finally had a Chinese spiritual doctor come visit her. After the examination, he said she is the reincarnation of a powerful general in Emperor Ming’s army, and the land-bound souls of about 1000 soldiers who’d died with the emperor or were buried as a sacrifice there recognized their general and followed her home, and he had to exorsize her. I’m not sure I believe that, but I do think there is a possibility that in a past life, she was sacrificed there at the tombs, especially if she was a famous powerful general, because it would have been an honor to follow your emperor into the next world. And maybe she was reliving the point of death. Anyway, she was healed perfectly after the Chinese spiritual doctor did his thing.

I’m glad I wasn’t told this story until this weekend when I visited my parents, cuz I would’ve been freaked out by what happened to me at the tombs. Like I said, we didn’t go underground into the tombs, but even then, the tourguide warned us that once we step onto tomb property, we were not to refer to her by her real name, we were to call her 007. Why? Because the restless spirits that reside there, once they could identify you by name, would come to you that night and give you horrid nightmares. I didn’t necessarily believe this superstition, but I turned to Mr. W and asked, “If you screw up and say my name, can I say yours?” He said, “Sure.” I said, “See you in my nightmares.” He told his friends John and Lidya, “You don’t wanna be a part of CINDY’S nightmares, she has some FREAKY dreams.” “So don’t say my name,” I cautioned as I walked up the steps into the holy place.

The grounds were pretty, and at one place, I asked John and Lidya (without using their names) if they’d like me to take their picture coming down some picturesque steps. They handed me and Mr. W their cameras, and we snapped away, after which John said, “Thanks [Mr. W]! Thanks Ci–” and I cut him off with “DON’T SAY IT!” Realizing what he’d done, John gasped and apologized, but it was too late.
“Thanks a lot, JOHN!” Mr. W laughed.
Our tourguide didn’t realize that Mr. W’s real name was said aloud and thought I’d stopped John on time, so she laughed and said to Mr. W, “You gotta thank Cindy! You should thank Cindy! He almost said your name!”
I pointed at her. “YOU just said my name TWICE!”
She froze. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Things got a little better after that. On the way out of the tombs, we stopped by some people selling wares and jewelry on blankets on the ground. One of the guys selling thought I was married because I was wearing the traditional jadeite bracelet (see previous post), and asked why I didn’t teach my husband Chinese. I said in Chinese, “If I taught him the language I couldn’t talk about him behind his back.” They laughed. Then he asked whether another older Asian couple in our tourgroup were my parents. I told him no. He said, “Really? Because you and his wife look a lot alike!” I didn’t know what to respond to that, so I just smiled. The woman’s husband, however, said, “Thank you!” I was flattered.

I’m happy to report, no one had nightmares that night.

I…

…am in CHINA…

…and YOU’RE NOT, nyah, nyanny nyah, nyah! 😀 Well, unless you’re a lurker Chinese person viewing my blog FROM China.

You guys miss me yet? I bet I miss you. I probably don’t even have internet access over there. I’ll be home soon-ish. (As you can tell, this post was written before I left.) Man, the lengths I go to, to entertain my reading public!

I’m writing this post at 1:30 a.m. on Friday, April 27th, but I’m gonna schedule this entry to post later on, in case you guys miss me when I’m in China. So to help you guys not miss me, I’m gonna post something icky. This came about on an IM conversation with James earlier. For those of you who don’t know, he plays lots of instruments and writes/records his own music, occasionally with his own band.

james: i should write a song about turds.
Cindy: “Tuuuuuurd, turd turd tuuuuurd, tuuuuuuuurd, turd turd turd, and I love you, you’re my turd, and I miss you…”
oh wait, that’s “dream.”
james: “My biggest mistake in my life, was when i flushed you down the toilet.. oh hey”
Cindy: “How could I have done you that-a-way, my turd, my one and only turd?”
james: thats a lie.
you dont have a one and only turd.
Cindy: it had to rhyme with “hey” cuz that’s what you ended with
james: you dont have to rhyme in songs!
if you’re an expert!
Cindy: well, every time you lose your love you thnk it’s your one and only and you’ll never love that way again
james: thats what they tought us ya know
like in poetry
true
Cindy: fine. I’ll anti-rhyme.
james: but then along comes the next turd.
that crawled up beside her
Cindy: “Yo turd, my lovah, thought you were gone forevah, but then I turned and whoa mama, my ass got taken ovah…”
I can’t do it, I rhyme.
I just do.
All the time.
james: Hahahahah
james: YOU are conforming!!!!!
you cant help yourself!!!!
Cindy: it takes more talent to rhyme than not.
I rhyme every time I start to jot
Even when I try to write
Prose my words just sound alike.
james: i have my guitar now.
im singing the turd song you wrote.
Cindy: I’m writing raps now.
james: lol
im taking your raps
and singing to them.
and putting music to it.
you know what.
Cindy: you’re gonna post it on your blog as a sound byte?
james: the first part. “Yo turd, my lovah, thought you were gone forevah” is really cool hahahahaha
Cindy: I know. I’M really cool.
brrr and stuff
james: lol
thats so cool
Cindy: what is?
james: your song

There you go, ladies and gentlemen! A real critique, from a real musician! I have talent! (Betcha don’t miss me NOW, huh? You’re welcome.) *curtsy*

You find out things when you leave your place of work at 8pm. I, for example, almost had a heart attack when I exited the elevator at the ground floor, turned into the lobby toward the front glass doors, and saw that the doors were chained closed with handcuffs. When did they start doing that?! Luckily, the side door was unchained so I was able to escape into the cool night air. Ah, night. You haven’t greeted me upon my daily prisonbreak for a long time.

Driving home past 8p, I felt a twinge of hunger. My mind’s eye explored my empty refrigerator. Maybe I just shouldn’t eat. But not eating would lower my metabolism, so I should get something light. Grabbing my cell phone, I called James. “You should definitely eat,” he advised. I wailed something about eating alone. So he agreed to meet me for a bite. We grabbed a quick sushi at nearby Miyako Sushi & Sashimi, a place he’d been harassing me about not taking him to when Vanessa and I ate there. This marks my 3rd straight night of eating raw fish, which I’m gonna miss when I’m in China. Eating cooked fish. Yech.

Dinner conversation led to my expressing a grave concern that had occurred to me earlier this evening, while I finished packing and doing laundry. What if my plane crashes, and my parents are forced to tearfully clear out my house? The task is difficult enough without them finding my porn and various, uh, physical pleasure paraphernalia. None of which I purchased, of course; they were from people who bought them as (gag) gifts for me and from others who just sorta left stuff at my house. There was only one obvious solution to this dilemma at this point. I begged James to take my schtuff for safekeeping until I got back safe and sound. He was hesitant at first, and I could see his brain was reeling with the possibilities of being in possession of something that he may have to explain to someone else. I told him he could just keep the collection in his trunk and never take it out, and even if someone DID happen upon it, he could tell them the truth. And if I die, he can either keep it or dump it, I don’t care.

Being a good friend, he reluctantly agreed. I double-bagged the schtuff in an opaque red bag. As I handed it to him and he started to leave my house, he said, “You better come back alive.” That’s a good friend, man. I wonder if he’ll ever be curious enough to look in the bag. Maybe that’s a TMI line even James won’t cross.

Jordan and I had a playful email dispute that ended with me making what I felt was a definitive, indisputable point, thereby winning the debate. Since she’d characterized her initial email as “poking” at me and then we continued our emails by ending each one with “poke, poke” or “poking you back”, I ended my winning point with “poke mate.” And so it began…

Jordan: I don’t play chess so… I’ll take your PokeMate and slam dunk that in the basketball hoop…
Cindy: and we’ll call that a 10.0 drift head-to-head challenge score!
Jordan: well then move that to the volleyball court and set… spike… SLAM
Cindy: in your face over-the-net block!
Jordan: blocked by my big FOREHEAD back at you then taken to the football field for a TOUCHDOWN…
Cindy: and going over a hip check on the way to a slam over the goalie’s reach into the net! HOLE IN ONE!!
Jordan: popped out of the net…. (sorry).. ran to Yankee stadium where it was a long straight hit out onto River Avenue…. lightly joggin through three bases… slides into home plate for picture-taking effect and because my family is watching…and… HOME RUN
Cindy: FOUL! FOUL! Penalty shot is called! Ooh, and the penalty throw is FUMBLED by Jordan! All cameras snap away as the golden spotlight is snatched away from her with her family watching!
Jordan: whistle blower. reviewed in the ‘box”… yards given back to jordan after reviewing the tape showing that cindy clearly tripped jordan… drives to
daytona speedway at 190 mph… crosses the FINISH line… vroom
Cindy: Alas, the race at hand is a go-kart race! Jordan is disqualified for her
use of her golf cart!!
Jordan: Jordan hands Cindy the pamphlet that stated if you own a golf cart, you may use it in lieu of not having a go-cart… she never reads the fine print… SO… double check mate, swing, goalie, spike, basket, score, home run, grand slam, hole in one and naked haha dance at the end
Cindy: …what? I just saw the naked haha dance and got lost. *pointing at Jordan* You danced NEKKID! HA-ha!! PS – you KNOW I’m gonna blog this.

SIMULTANEOUSLY, Jordan was sending this:
Jordan: i think YOU should post these (sports related triumphs)

Cindy: I was just going to! haha! same brain at use here again?
Jordan: wonder twin powers… deactivate
Cindy: Gooooo, Voltron team!

Did I mention I love it when Jordan has the day off? She plays with me.

I was having an email exchange with a friend who was home “sick” from work to work on his masters thesis. When I found out that’s what he was doing, I offered to stop stealing his time so that he could finish up his thesis. He wrote back, “dont worry about distracting me, i can multi-task…. and besides, if it werent you, there would be something else to distract me..” That sounds like ME in college! Here’s me back then when an essay’s due the next day:
1.) Turn on computer.
2.) Lay out assignment materials (book, assignment, syllabus, notes).
3.) Check email.
4.) Type out a diary entry about the latest drama regarding boys.
5.) Check email.
6.) Call friend I haven’t spoken to in awhile. Bitch about all the assignments I have due.
7.) Remember that Victoria’s Secret is having a huge online sale. Check their site.
8.) Ask roommate for her take on a few VS pieces.
9.) Go to kitchen and rummage around for snacks.
10.) Settle down in front of computer with a sandwich.
11.) Unable to work AND eat (not enough hands), so I check email again.
12.) Finish eating, put plate aside, decide to go brush food out of teeth.
13.) Examine face in bathroom mirror.
14.) Lean in real close, see unwanted eyebrow hairs, start plucking.
15.) Brush teeth.
16.) Examine skin in bathroom mirror.
17.) Mess with new hairstyle.
18.) Walk by roommie watching TV. Pause next to her to see what show’s on.
19.) Sit down next to roommie to watch the show. It’s half over already, anyway.
20.) Sit down in front of computer. Re-read essay topic.
21.) Pull out paper to outline essay.
22.) Stand up and go to the bathroom to stare at teeth in mirror.
23.) Sit down in front of computer.
24.) Check email.
25.) Dinnertime!

His response: “Whew…I thought I was the only one.”
I wrote: “No way. The term ‘procrastination’ was invented because of ME.”
He wrote: “The only reason it wasn’t invented because of me first, was because I kept putting it off.”
He won the argument. But that’s why he’s the one who earned the advanced degree.

Vanessa had asked me for a typing tutor computer program some time ago, and Mr. W gave her a CD-ROM: Mavis Beacon Typing Tutor V.16. She caught me online earlier and said she’d reached a milestone: she’s typing without looking at her keyboard! Yay! And here is why she needs to keep going with the program:

Vanessa: People keep passing by my desk asking me what i am up to because I have a huge grin
me: stop grinning. we can talk about something solemn.
Vanessa: That makes me look funny!
me: Okay, let’s see…you’re 90, and you’ve got no sex drive, and all you’re using the cabana boy for is to listen to you ramble on about your cat.
Vanessa: WHAT???? NOOOO! That is WRONG! At least have the cabana boy feeding me.
me: “And Fluffy was my 3rd cat, after Angelina and Maxwell, you remember. Well, it seemed that Fluffy didn’t get along with the neighbor’s dog, Oodle…”
Vanessa: Like rapes or something cool. Or better fanning me.
Vanessa: Grapes!!!
me: okay, he’ll be raping you while you’re going on about your cats.
Vanessa: I meant GRAPES!! I just caught that!!!! SORRY!
me: that’s NOT what you wrote.
Vanessa: Note to self – I must scan or proof read before pressing enter. I know!
That’s not what i meant. Man… I must use that CD more often

Or maybe this is less reason for Vanessa needing to type better, than reason that people don’t IM me that often. Hmm.

I hate, hate all the annoying phone calls I get from Family Law litigants wanting to know what’s going on with their divorce. Look, just cuz you turned in some half-ass papers a year ago doesn’t mean that your divorce will miraculously be processed today, okay?! In honor of those annoyances, here’s a Tuesday Barbie joke. (Coincidentally, as I was driving home yesterday I was remembering my first Barbie doll and how I came upon her, and considered blogging about her, but changed my mind. Today I get a Barbie joke on email.)

~*~
One day a father gets out of work and on his way home he suddenly remembers that it’s his daughter’s birthday. He pulls over to a toy shop and asks the salesperson, “How much for one of those Barbies in the display window?”

The salesperson answers, “Which one do you mean, sir? We have:
Work Out Barbie for $19.95,
Shopping Barbie for $19.95,
Beach Barbie for $19.95,
Disco Barbie for $19.95,
Ballerina Barbie for $19.95,
Astronaut Barbie for $19.95,
Skater Barbie for $19.95,
And Divorced Barbie for $265.95”

The amazed father asks, “You what?! Why is Divorced Barbie $265.95 and the others only $19.95?”

The annoyed salesperson rolls her eyes, sighs, and answers, “Sir…, Divorced Barbie comes with: Ken’s Car, Ken’s House, Ken’s Boat, Ken’s Furniture, Ken’s Computer and… One of Ken’s Friends.”

International Symbol of Marriage

Don’t you love when things like this happen to you? I’d eaten a protein bar in the morning that was so nasty I had to put it aside. After the gym at lunch, I was hungry enough after devouring an avocado to try the bar again. I happened to bump into Vanessa online.

me: dude, I ate one of those yogurt peanut butter bars. NASTY!!! and I have a pretty high tolerance to bad tasting stuff!
Vanessa: I ate one today, too! But I liked it. We should switch some out
me: it was SALTY!
Vanessa: Another koininkadink, or however you write the darn thing
me: which one did you try? the same one?
Vanessa: The same one
me: you liked it? it wasn’t salty to you?
Vanessa: Yup. Not at all. But I have my PMS tongue in action right now and I am craving salt. So that might explain it. I’ll try it in a week and see if I still like it
me: maybe I had a bad bar that used salt for sugar.
Vanessa: But they don’t make them indv. they make batched at a time so it should be the same as mine.
Me: was it gooey to you in the center?
Vanessa: No. Was yours?
me: yeah! omg, what the hell did I eat??? it wasn’t, like, brown nougat in the center of yours?
Vanessa: No. Maybe it was a bad bar! Eewww!
me: you’re sure you had the yogurt peanut crunch?
Vanessa: Wait a minute while I dig the wrapper out of the trash
me: Jeopardy theme song playing
Vanessa: Yup, yogurt Peanut Crunch. See the things I do for you, man?
I went through trash
me: I dug mine out of the trash, too!
Vanessa: Now that is love. LOL
me: koinkidink? we’re both eating bars and digging in the trash during our work hours. nice.
Vanessa: ohh… we are like TWINS. but like the movie with arnold and the smaller guy. Except we are cute
me: danny devito
Vanessa: and not guys. and not old
me: HAHAH
Vanessa: You get my drift
me: and not twins.
Vanessa: Yeah, that’s him
me: and not the same race. and not related. and not polar opposite people
Vanessa: ok… maybe we are not like the movie
me: haha. should I blog this? that’d be funny.
Vanessa: I was thinking that. Do it!
me: OH MY GOSH! Another koinkidink! haha
Vanessa: I love Cilliness. LOL

I’m always the one who gets the gnat in the soup, fly in the salad, worm in the peach. Free restaurant meal advantage aside, it makes me wonder whether I’m just “lucky,” or whether I’m the only one who examines food as I’m eating it.