| my puns is like onions |
[Jun. 6th, 2008|03:37 pm] |
Longlost livejournal, do you want to hear my brilliant idea? I'm not gonna lie; when I thought of this, my spirit briefly left my body and gazed at me with hearts emanating wildly from its eyes. We're perfect for each other!! Okay:
After a lifetime of being a Lai, I realized today that my sister and I are OBVIOUSLY DESTINED to form a sibling band called the Filthy Lais. My rockstar Lai name will be Little White Lai (because I just don't LIKE red-bean paste. oh, and because of how my Chinese sounds like a white person reading pinyin - that is to say, hilarious!). I have offered my sister these suggestions for hers:
Bold-Faced Lai
Lai Ability
Big Fat Lai (this one made me laugh like a crazy person at the bus stop today. the unfortunate price of genius.)
Personally, I like Bold-Faced Lai. It evokes a hardcore attitude and Ghostface Killah and this monkey all at once.
ALSO, we can go on tour with her boyfriend Mike Miner's brother-sister band, Miner Threat!!!! (Although that might infringe on some copyrights.) Miner Key! The Miner Leaguers! Miner Duodenal Papilla!
And when the Miner sister leaves the band to pursue her solo career:
Paul Miner's Daughter!
When the Filthy Lais break up over creative differences and my sister absorbs the Miners for her backing band:
Bold-Faced Lai and the Miner-League Players!
Oh, wow. *passes out* |
|
|
| my language, let me show you it |
[Oct. 17th, 2007|06:59 pm] |
I remember that one time, maybe back when we were in love, Internet, or no wait, it was that time when I heard my sister having sex through the wall and darkness swallowed the Earth, I said I would tell you about hen kerlien, my personal favourite Chinese expression. All it means literally is 'very (hen) sad (kerlien),' but it also has connotations of 'pathetic' without any of the judgment or scorn. I don't think there is an English equivalent, so at this juncture I will ask you to picture a child walking alone in the world. Hen kerlien!
Here are some examples of hen kerlien in action:
1. One time as a kid, I asked my dad if he wanted to play catch, and he said he was feeling too lazy at the moment; I said this was okay. I had a bowl haircut.
We had this plastic elephant that lobbed baseballs at you with its trunk, so minutes later I was seen carrying the elephant and a TV tray into the backyard. I guess at this point I became visible in the window of the living room, where my dad sat reclining on the couch. Thus framed, I proceeded to arrange the elephant on the TV tray, turn it on, and run away to hit the first ball with my whiffle bat. I repeated this process every fourth ball, because that is how many balls I had. I was not too far into it when my dad appeared in the backyard with my baseball glove, citing that the spectacle was too kerlien to bear. Hen kerlien!
2. When my sister was 19, she went to Honduras with Habitat for Humanity. She had a bowl haircut. (I keed, I keed. Actually, did she?) I guess she was there for about four months. The week before her return, she called home and told my dad what day she was coming back and what time her flight would arrive.
It is possible that as the older, more independent child, my sister is not as high on my parents' hen kerlien radar. I'm not saying it's fair; a complex has been formed. Anyway, she was fishing for a homecoming at the airport and a ride back to Guelph, but my dad was not attuned to this and told her that he was going to Malaysia that week, okay, bye!
When she got back, 19, crusty, and with a possible bowl cut, she was the only kid without parents waiting expectantly in the arrivals lounge. Someone else's parents took pity on her and gave her a ride to the subway so that she could get to the bus station and take a bus home to an empty house in Guelph. Hen motherfucking kerlien!
So to summarize, hen kerlien: It means 'very sad' and it is always enhanced by a bowl cut. If you are wondering how to pronounce it, my hope is for it to be integrated into the English lexicon to help us better describe the sad goddamn world we live in, so you can just go ahead and pronounce it in your big white way! I love you. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 18th, 2007|02:29 pm] |
One time I was playing Scrabble with my dad and he said, "This must be a word," and laid down "POON".
You know what's coming.
 |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 9th, 2007|12:56 am] |
Last night I had a Saved By The Bell dream where A.C. Slater was named Steak. Steak! So that was a good night.
In other news, I hate A.C. Slater, or Steak, or whatever he is going by these days. It's like that guy Steakspeare said: "an A.C. Slater by any other name -- Steak, for example -- would still call Jessie Spano 'mama', and that is totally gross. Ugh."
Former Roommate & All-Time Favourite Homeslice Laura Robb is bumming around my attic these days while she works in the city, which is a very beautiful thing. I would get excited for our periods to sync up in true bff style, except for I have been inexplicably bleeding for three weeks straight. I'm too young to die? |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Feb. 12th, 2007|09:15 am] |
|
Also, for the next however many days it takes, I will be administering CPR to my hotdog, i.e. pasting the contents of ye olde imploded diary-x journal, here, a few entries at a time. I pretty much just miss having it online, but in the event you are bored, enjoy me in re-runs! |
|
|
| You know what's the best chimp? |
[Feb. 12th, 2007|08:10 am] |
The other day Laura Robb said, "You know what's the best shampoo?", but I thought she said "chimp" instead of "shampoo". For the record, in my opinion the best chimp is Washoe the chimp. Washoe was the first chimp they tried to teach sign language to. The extent of their success was debatable, but having dropped out of linguistics/anthropology, I am no longer required to care. Instead I can focus on what's important, which is that, ahem: "Washoe could correctly label a variety of objects and could sign MORE FRUIT, WASHOE SORRY, PLEASE TICKLE," ahahaha!, which I think we can all agree is pretty delightful.
If you know another chimp that should be recognized for its contributions, e-mail us at zarinov[at]livejournal.com and tell us an awesome thing it did. While we are committed to equal opportunity and nondiscrimination among chimps, no chimps who bit the faces of kidnapped baby chimps and then ate the baby chimps will be considered for this award, as they are crazy bastards. Also, bonobos do not qualify on the grounds that they are too awesome. |
|
|
| Some Feelings I Love or Hate |
[Feb. 7th, 2007|05:28 pm] |
1. When something is so funny in a dream that you laugh yourself awake. This is a bizarre sensation because you wake up and you are lying all weak in your bed, snickering like Beastly from Care Bears. Three minutes later the hysterics die down and you are like, "Hey. A guy trying to do a chin-up on the bathroom towel rack while screaming, 'I HAVE TO PAY THE RENT NEXT WEEK!' is...not funny." This is seated firmly in the love category.
2. I used to have recurring nightmares as a kid that centered around this feeling that is like waves of cold cold dread, or an acute sensation of "knowing too much". I get this briefly sometimes when I am really tired, and I also feel it a little when Stewie on Family Guy says things like:
How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice little story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yeah, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah?
-cgghghh Uhuhuhuhuhhh. SO GROSS. My palms got a little clammy skimming that. Horrible Feeling, I shall call you icy cold underpants of dread.
3. I used to think a crap ache was the loneliest feeling in the world, since my childhood gastrointestinal neglect meant many hours spent sweating on the toilet in the dead of night, parents sleeping soundly in the next room, knowing NO ONE COULD HELP ME NOW. But then my sister went to Ethiopia and contracted...I want to say traveller's malaria [edit! I am a dumbass, it was just your garden variety dysentery...but my point stands]...and I decided I was mistaken. Obviously the loneliest feeling in the world is having a crap ache IN ETHIOPIA. |
|
|
| this time...it's ocular. oh, and also last time. |
[Jan. 16th, 2007|09:45 pm] |
Today on my post-work subway ride my eyelids started itching like maniacs (MANIACS!) so I went to town on them until they were hot like a sunburn. It was reminiscent of this time two summers ago when I was sitting on a dock with my sister and her boyfriend, all decked out in food-themed clothing (so obviously I had transcended into an existence so awesome that I had to be taken down a notch) and my eye began to itch and swell until it was just a ball with a SLIT in it. We rushed me back to my apartment where I screamed at my hideous visage in the mirror and then lay on the bed with a clump of wet kleenex over my eye while my sister described what was happening on Saturday Night Live and I laughed the depraved laugh of the insane/people who are not insane but their eyeballs are filled with pus.
This time is not nearly as horrific; instead it is more like I got permanent eyeshadow injected into my face, only instead of eyeshadow, venom, and instead of waking up beautiful, waking up blind.
P.S. Don't you hate that thing that happens when your eye is irritated where the eyeball membrane forms a BUBBLE? Aughghg, it makes my butt feel all soft and light when I think about it, which is an expression in Chinese! Here, I am giving it to you. Just take it. |
|
|
