The Start of This Blog

I'm back to being unemployed but this time, it's by choice- I'm back in school.  Once upon a time ago, June 26, 2008 to be exact, I had finished my temp job and was gainfully unemployed, drinking like A&E's investor relations depended on my vodka consumption and sitting around in my underwear, job hunting on the internet.  This is an email I sent to my friends one sad afternoon in reply to one of my gays wanting to go to some art event that Amy Sedaris would be hosting.  FYI, I did end up going and yes, I did drink the free alcohol.  

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Subject: Re: Fw: RE: RSVP

From: The Asian Sensation

To: My Gays
Cc:
Date: Thursday, June 26, 2008, 9:29 AM

first of all, my uterus hurts.  no seriously, i can feel it.  i think my whole body is aborting my uterus because it just knows that i should never be a mother because i'm a drunk.  i want to die.  everything hurts.


secondly, i think i'm going to start a blog and all because of the singular event i am going to tell you about.  yesterday, before i began drinking with dr. lopez at 1pm, i decided i should probably shower.  before i could hop in, the doorbell rang so i went downstairs to get it. it was some guy with a canned speech trying to get me to donate to obama.  i told him i was unemployed and didn't have any money but i could donate my time so i signed up to call people...or something like that.  whatever.  he seemed to be a bit flustered at times but i didn't think much of it because hey, some guys really dig greasy hair.   i ran back up the stairs and back to the bathroom to continue my attempt to shower.  i went to take off my pajama pants when i realized I HAD ALREADY TAKEN THEM OFF.   i spoke to a stranger for approximately 7 minutes in my orange underwear with yellow shooting stars going across them. 


you see friends, unemployment has stopped being temporary and has officially become a lifestyle.  i am so used to walking around by myself half naked with E! entertainment television in the background and eating leftovers straight from tupperware containers that i have become a barbarian.  the feeling of being half naked is now so ingrained in me that the wind grazing my half covered ass didn't make me think to look down to check if i was wearing pants. 


no seriously, what do i do when my uterus falls out?  is it like a finger?  do i put it on ice and then take it to the hospital and they can sew it back in me?  and which of you queens is going to marry me stat because my unemployment clearly renders me sans insurance and i think this is going to be expensive.


i cannot drink again tonight.  even if it's free.  when a korean declines free booze, you know it's serious.  

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Incidentally, there are multiple pictures of me doing various strange/exhibitionist/unsexy things in the aforementioned pair of underwear on the interwebs.  See Exhibits A, B and C.  Yes, Exhibit C is a staged picture of James, grabbing my underwear beneath my dress.  

Somebody Said You Got a New Friend...

firstly, read this article.

so the thing is, people scoff at dance music simply by virtue of the fact that it's in that genre but i give everyone a shot.  black men...not my type but i let one bite my neck and dirty talk to me.  i prefer pen to pencil but i tried the new sharpie graphite erasable pen.  i know you are picking up what i'm throwing down.

the song is fan-fucking-tastic because of the ironic juxtaposition of it being a tragic flame song but with an oddly feminist/independent backbone.  this bitch is not sitting at home eating ben and jerry's and watching bridget jones for the 400th time.  and for the same reason that you always blow your nose and then take a gander at your own snot, she just has to see her metaphorical snot.

it's brilliant.

and don't get me started on "be mine."  "i saw you at the station.  you had your arm around what's her name.  she had on that scarf I gave you."

my heart breaks with the very thought of that soft, carefully chosen, masculine yet fashionable navy and cream cashmere scarf (her budget said wool but her heart said cashmere!) thoughtlessly draped over some other swedish bitch's shoulders.

i get robyn.  she gets me.  that is all.


and i would rock the shit out this bee costume.  but you know, make the pants shorter.  duh.

Dear Charlie,

welcome to the world, pumpkin pie!  your neurotic mother and that bald guy that knocked her up have waited a long time for you.  i would like to state here and now that i called it.  at your uncle matt's birthday, your mama drank a virgin minty drink from the bar instead of ordering it from the waiter.  as a woman of the world, you have to read into things.  let nothing slip by your hawk-like senses and you will save yourself money, heart ache and never miss a sample sale.  these are wise words.  let them sink in. 

it's amazing what a little sponge you are.  everything around you has the capacity to be your first.  your first asian (me!), your first curse word (you done already heard the f  bomb many times but when you start to understand stuff, i reckon we'll reel that in a bit), your first christmas, your first fall leaf, your first puppy kiss (your big brother frankie has give you many of those).  The thing about firsts is that they are lasting; they shape you and what a beautiful thing that you are thus far, unshaped.  you have a choice in everything you do and everything that happens so chose to let what life gives you shape you for the better.  you have the potential to be anything and anyone so pick something good.  pick something big and bright.  go for the extremes.  no one in the middle was ever most liked, best dressed or smartest.  wear the longest dress or the shortest one (you can borrow something from me).  Have a pixie cut or a fro!  the only thing good in moderation is food which if you inherited the surrut gene, you shouldn't have any problems.  and on the subject of that, you are beautiful.  now, i'm not the kind of lady to blow smoke up people's bums but you are gorgeous and you'll grow up to be the kind of woman i do not want to stand next to in pictures.  Don't let anyone let you feel differently and don't ever change to feel more beautiful (except hair color, that is acceptable).  No man (or woman!) ever fell in love with a rib bone.  Truth.

I don't know much but i've learned a few things and here are a few bits of advice...skip the belly shirt wearing phase in toward the end of jr. high.  it's tacky and it's been done.  it will also drive baldy insane and he's really quite a nice man so let him be.  when you are going to secretly "borrow" your mother's new dress or vintage one, take the new one.  when you spill over the vintage one, you'll realize just how irreplaceable it is and your mother will flip.  also, your instinct is always right.  always.  no matter what i say, this is a lesson you will teach yourself eventually.  i'm only writing it here because i want to say, "i told you so."  also, it's perfectly satisfactory and okay to say "i told you so" except when your friend is heartbroken because of an asshole bastard you sniffed out a long time ago.  keep that to yourself; the satisfaction isn't worth it.  when you need to dress for a special occasion, seek fashion advice from only your mother and homosexual men.  Straight women will let you leave the house looking atrocious so they can look better.  women are cruel; gays are honest.

my last bit of advice in this letter for you is be kind.  you come from two people who are charming and successful but above all that, they are kind.  you will be beautiful, darling, and you know what women hate?  beautiful women.  but you know what women want to hate but can't hate?  beautiful, kind women.  be a woman that begets envy but is also always rooted for.  beauty fades, money comes and goes with the wind but kindness comes around to those who deserve it so be the sort of person that deserves it.  cattiness is fun and harmless in moderation but always be nice to the band dork who's in love with you and the lovable kid with acne problems because she'll grow up to be uber rich (she'll invest in your company later or at the very least bail you out of jail).   and when you see people being mean to others who don't deserve it, stick up for them because there is only one trait better than kindness which is courage.  charlie alex surrat hernandez, you are and will always be beautiful, kind and courageous and you will always always always be loved.  

all of my love,

xoxo

Fuck You, Snow.

You make me cold as fuck.  You make my fingers hurt even under my leather, cashmere lined gloves.  You cause even the shortest of walks to be an incredibly unpleasant experience.  You disappear and then like the dirty cock tease that you are, you come down again to start the emotional roller coasters all over again.  You put severe limitations on my sense of fashion.  It seems as though you have no saving graces...

But you do make it easy to put out my cigarette.

Roommate Chat

hellafied: Chocolate pudding on top of bananas?  That's brilliant!  Those are my two favorite things!

me:  Girl, there ain't no dick in here.

So True!

Gotta love "Best of Craigslist."  This woman should write a manual...except I have nothing against finger licking.

Observations on sex from a single woman - w4m

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Date: 2009-09-07, 11:22PM EDT

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So, I'm a single, classy, well-educated, professional, in shape, cool woman... I'm dating and on the somewhat rare occasions when I meet somebody cool... someone I connect to and have chemistry with... I have sex. Here are some observations and tips for you guys from a somewhat sexually frustrated woman:

1) Condoms are a must... wear it and shut the fuck up about it. I haven't had sex without one in over 10 years and I deal with it, so can you. Your shit is just not great enough for me to even consider having that kind of trust with you, especially the first few times we hook up. I mean, seriously. Yes I know it feels better and it's hard (no pun intended) for you to cum when you're wearing one. That just means you're not working hard enough for the orgasm... you're lazy. Get in there and work it out, dammit. Others have been successful and so can you. Which leads me to #2...

2) You put a condom on and your shit just goes limp. You have a hot-ass girl wanting your dick inside her... you see her there laying in front of you, looking at you with "that look," and you can't get hard? Again, put some heart into it. You inevitably say, "I hate these things." I don't care. Stop thinking about the fucking condom and make it work. Seriously.

3) You're in the zone, working it out... good shit. But I say, "Hold on, can I get some KY real quick?" Stop getting pissed off and/or offended... You say, "How come you're not wet?" Um, I am, or I was, but after a good amount of time, rubber dries, which contributes to me drying out, and it fucking hurts. I WANT you to keep fucking me... I just want to get some fucking lube. I have your best interests at heart too, believe me. A little bit of lube never hurt anybody.

4) Sometimes I just want the dick... I don't want oral sex. It's not that you're bad or good at it, I'm just not in the mood... I just want your cock. Just an FYI.

5) It takes me a good amount of time to cum... it just does. Believe me... if I want you to stop, you'll know it. If I don't say anything or push you the fuck off me, just keep going. Pay attention to my facial expressions (open mouth, no sound coming out, but it looks like I'm screaming = good)... my feet (when my toes start to curl, keep doing whatever you're doing)... my hands and fingers and grip (if I'm kind of holding your hips at a certain angle... follow my lead).

6) Go ahead... grip me up a little (but, there is a fine line... don't cross it). Grab my hair... grab the back of my head... make me feel hot and wanted... it's fucking hot and I love it. Start gently and see what happens...

7) Reverse cowgirl just doesn't work for everybody. It's not my thing.

8) Tell me how good I feel... sigh... make a little noise. I don't need to hear you roaring like a T.Rex or anything, but don't be mute. It's unnerving.

9) Make me look at you... tell me to open my eyes. But don't stare like you're going to drill holes through my head. I sometimes get lost in my own little pleasure world and forget to look at you and watch what you're doing to me. Remind me.

10) Boobs can be sensitive at different times of the month... just know that and approach accordingly. I'll usually let you know ahead of time if I'm sore. Try to remember.

11) Don't forget about the neck and ears during sex. That's when I'm sometimes the most sensitive and it feels amazing having you that close.

12) Funny noises are going to happen... I might laugh out of minor embarassment and because it's just funny. It's okay, you can laugh too. I'm not laughing at you and I'm sorry if it feels that way.

13) Don't just jam anything into my ass all random-like. That should be self-evident, but apparently it's not. That's just not cool.

14) I don't get the finger-licking thing... especially when you just all up and stick your nasty fingers in my mouth.

15) Having sex when you're high is one of the best things ever. Just had to say that.

16) When you start to put your dick inside me for the first time, take that shit slow. Make me ache for it... put the head in slowly and leave it there for a second. Make me lift my hips up and beg for it. Know that at that point, you are in control and we like it. Or at least I do. I want you to understand how good it feels... relish the moment.

17) Tell me I'm beautiful and that you love my body at least once... This is especially effective when I'm in a weird position where my stomach looks fucking insane from my angle and who knows what it looks like to you. I work out. I'm pretty tight. I can kick some cardio ass. But damn, some positions just make me look crazy.

18) Nothing gets me hotter than getting a massage, lying on my stomach... and then having you lie down on top of me, putting your head into my neck and nuzzling my ear, gently but confidently wedging my legs apart with your knee and pressing your throbbing hard cock against my ass... I'm toast.

19) I think about sex just as much as you do, maybe more. I watch porn. I masturbate. I like to have sex... I'm careful and cautious and I have no problem asking you if you've ever been tested. If you say, "Yeah... a few years ago," I'm going to be disappointed. Don't be offended or pissy that I asked you that. I would expect you to ask me the same thing. If you don't ask me back, I think that's a little odd. On that note, if I ask you to check the condom once or twice during sex, just do it. I'm paranoid, but I'm also 31, never been pregnant, and never had an STD. So...

20) Don't leave a condom for me to find (or my cat... or my mom who volunteered to clean my house while waiting for me to come home from work one day). You're usually in charge of the disposal.

Sigh... that felt good.

Best Text of 2010

From: Short, Irritated Jew Ex-Roommate

"Masturbating neighbor is home for Thanksgiving.  I guess now he talks on the phone while pleasuring himself.  My mom was fascinated."

Fags

I love them, both of them.

Since I reached adulthood (if that is what I'm going to call this bullshit swarm of faux maturity I currently am forced to live in), a fag is the greatest friend I have ever had.

Fags are loyal, consistent, sexy and best enjoyed when drinking and they always cause trouble.  Nothing exacerbates a raging hangover like a fag but mother of fuck they are fun in the moment.

One day I'll give up the fags because even Dries Van Noten doesn't make cancer doesn't look good but I'll never give up the homo fags because without them, I'd be a lesser person...and significantly less stylish with no one to discuss all of Bravo's programming with.

Ann Savage made this shit look good.

There Is Always a Bright Side...

Caller: You know what is going to come in the mail with my divorce papers?  Honora pearls!
QVC Host: Well Molly, you know what increases credibility in the courtroom?  A nice strand of pearls!

QVC, getting bitches decent alimony on the daily.

I Still Win

Last Night, 12:08 am.  Phone rings.

Hot Amazonian Brunette Friend:  Girl!  Went on that date and nothing!  I totally thought he'd make a move but I'm sitting here with my dick in my hands.  We had dinner and he paid.  He told me how beautiful I am.  I go back to his place and we are both a kinda drunk and nothing!  He sent me home with a brick of cheese.  I shaved my ass for nothing!

me:  Um, I still win this game of who is more pathetic.  I'm sitting here reading Heidi Montag's mother's blog.

HAB:  Yeah...you win.

me:  And add insult to injury, you got a free brick of cheese.  Fuck you.  I'm going back to reading Heidi Montag's mom's blog.

She Does Live With Me So She Would Know...

From: Skank Roommate
Date: Mon, Oct 25, 2010 at 2:54 PM
Subject: Re: malibu!
To: The Asian Sensation

Your bush probably smells like Chinatown during a heat wave.

You Know You Go To Ad School When...

hipster boy:  have you seen the new gap logo?

hipster girl:  no.  they changed their logo?

hb:  yeah, i like the original better.

hg:  did they change the font?

hb:  yeah, you know how it was a serif font before?  well now, it's helvetica.  OF COURSE!

hg:  of course it is!  i'm so over that type

toto, i've a feeling we're not in kansas anymore.

Free Smells!

Whenever I walk by a Jimmy John's and see the neon "Free Smells" sign, I think about how I want to get that tattooed right on my crotch. 

But then I think about how if I ever wanted to rock the landing strip look, the tat would look real fucked up.  Such a conundrum.

Notes of Someone Crazy or Brilliant?

I was trying to find some notes today to prep for a meeting.  I opened my notebook and found this:

My favorite notes is, "I'm a very visual person- translation: I like porn."  

I know, with notes like this, it's amazing that I'm not the CEO of a company.

The Case is Deep

My father's oncologist is named Case Ketting.   He's a very lovely man.  He is kind, patient and has an excellent bedside manner.  He answers all my questions and always gets back to me in a timely manner...but when I speak to him, the thought in the back of my mind is always, "YOU HAVE THE BEST PORN STAR NAME EVER!"  I mean seriously...CASE KETTING!  This was my gchat:

me:  my dad's oncologist's name is case ketting

great porn star name

 Brent:  deep inside the Case

or Pack the Case Full

 me:  an open or shut case

on someone's case

a case against you

case in point

 Brent:  The Case is Deep

 me:  bingo!

you win

porn title, done.

 

Cancer totally sucks balls but life is funny.

JAM

um...

this morning, i was on the train, hungover and sweating champagne.  i went out to dinner with my coworker andrea and we killed a bottle of champagne and a bottle of chianti and then started our night. 

so i'm standing there and the guy next to me slumps over.  i'm about to shoot him a dirty look because he's in my personal fucking space and then he collapses.  he's on the ground convulsing, eyes are rolling in the back of his head.  i'm totally freaked out and i scoot away from him.  i look around and no one is doing anything so i kneel down next to him and put his head in my lap because the convulsing is making his head slam into the ground.  i am florence fucking nightingale.  and the whole time, i'm thinking, "this asshole better not get spit all over my dress."

so he comes to and tells me that he's diabetic and needs sugar.  i know, i know.  carry a fucking werther's orginal around with you, jackoff.  but this is not the time or place to bitch about it. 

so i'm like, "does anyone have anything with sugar?" 

this guy next to me is like, "i have jam!"  and he hands me a jar of jam.  straight up homemade by grandma in a mason jar.   i pop that bitch open (and it does pop so grandma made it well) and....

well, picture it (sicily, 1934...kidding).

no really, picture it:  i'm in a short blue button up dress cradling a bald dude with a jar of jam opened in my hand with two fingers poised to go in for the kill.  are you hearing me?  i'm about to hand fucking feed a man fig preserves!  suddenly, i don't wanna do this.  it's like every almost one night stand i've ever had- gut feeling just says no.  so i look up at the 18 people staring at me and i scream out, "seriously?  all you people have is JAM?!?!  NO ONE HAS A FUCKING CLIFF BAR?  A STICK OF GUM?  A FUCKING PEPPERMINT FROM NEXT TO THE REGISTER OF THE DINER YOU ATE AT LAST NIGHT?  NOTHING?!?!?!" 

a guy actually laughs and contributes, "or does anyone at least have a utensil?"

finally, a girl hands me a baggie full of strawberries and i feed him three strawberries and then he got off and merchandise mart and someone walked him to his office.

again, JAM?!?!?!  A JAR OF FUCKING JAM?!?!

hey, what's the difference between jam and jelly?

you can't jelly a cock in someone's mouth!

Runts

The other day, I found a few Runts rolling around in the bottom of my Fendi. You know, those lovely candies that are multi-colored and you pick out all the banana because 1) they are the best flavor and 2) you just want to shove something phallic in your mouth without getting the hep.  Before I had a chance to think about it, they were in my mouth.  I ran through a timeline in my head of when I could possibly have gotten Runts.  I think either Halloween or the last time I was at the movie theater which I believe was when I saw the Sex and the City movie.  They were probably sitting on a dollar that was held by a homeless man just minutes after he urinated in an ally.  Hey world, I'm disgusting. 

It's No Shrimping But...

The homos don't have it any easier. TGR was browsing a gay online dating site and had a very "sweet" conversation and sent me an email about it:

Here's a recent exchange I just received on a certain boy-meetin' website. Goes to show that you should never be cordial and respond if the first message has something the tiniest bit suspicious in it. Oh brother.

awesomehunk: Hey Scott here blonde blue 190 6ft. You lookincredible! Go to Chicago a lot. Looking for fun guy with a great sense of humor. Up for a whipped cream pie fight?

TGR: Hi Scott. Thanks. ;) Where do you live now? Pie fight? How's your week starting out?

awesomehunk: Hey I go Chicago a lot. Milwaukee here. Good how's your week. Would ya get whipped cream pied for me?

Well, he knew "a lot" was two words which is more than I can say for a lot of assholes I've gone out with. And at least the gays have a 6'0, 190lb dude that is wanting to cream pie them. Straight girls get 5'4 (means they are actually 5'2), 210lb (means they are nearing 250) dudes emailing us. But what we both have in common? The guy calls himself "awesomehunk." What fucking dickbucket calls himself awesomehunk? And even AwesomeHunk would be slightly better. Take the fucking time to capitalize- it shows you take the time to give good head! No? Is this my art history analysis training going overboard?

Then again, maybe it's slightly hypocritical of me since my username is "GoldenPussy." To be fair, it's not like I went overboard and called myself "PlatinumPussy" even though I preferred the alliteration. I'm too humble for platinum so I'm merely golden.

Greeting Cards

A coworker of mine told me that I should make sarcastic greeting cards. I told Matt this and he made these beautiful mock ups with my words.

For those of you who work for raging cuntbags:

And for those of you who got sent a $600 prepaid debit card with his name on it that is actually only usable at Au Bon Pain or have had the misfortune of dating a jackhole who wears Tommy Bahama shirts and has a ridonculously aristocratic name (heart your face, LC!), there is this card:

Would you buy these cards? They are timeless and seasonless. Hmmm, a new business proposal! Maybe I need to copyright this shit!

Beaver

My coworker, Andrea, had an Evite she forwarded to me.  The link opens up in her account because unless you forward it properly via Evite, you log into their personal account which means  you can change their response (never ever ever ever EVER forward an Evite link to Sawyer).  She originally had that she was coming and her comment said something lame like, “I’ll bring cheese and blah blah blah.”  I changed it.  See below:

The best part is that at the party, one of her friends was like, "Oh, I'm so glad you could make it!  Wait, are domestic beavers allowed to be kept as pets in Chicago?"

Hot Pigeon

Scandinavian Homo:  That is one good looking pigeon!
Me:  You know you are really hard up for a pounding when you are checking out pigeons.
SH:  No but seriously, he's very good looking.
Me:  Get a fucking boyfriend.

Hooooooooooot Dog!

From: Short Irritated Jew
Date: Wed, Mar 24, 2010 at 6:39 PM
Subject: it happened again
To: The Asian Sensation

Guess who got their ass poked by an ethnic erection again? I DID.
Yeah.
JOY.

Going through that alone was terrible.
He was old and possibly drunk/high and homeless to make it even better.

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A few months ago, Short Irritated Jew (SIJ) and I were getting on the train for work.  Per usual, the CTA was out to fuck us so we were crammed into the brown line like Korean mothers in a St. John outlet store.  Right before the doors shut, a short, dirty, Hispanic man shoved in behind me.  I have nothing against short, dirty, Hispanic men as I hope to marry one one day; that is just the most accurate way to describe him.

He was behind me and I half looked around just because he was unnecessarily crammed up into my back.  The train was too packed for me to take a full look around but I did see his hand gripping the rail and I noticed his thumb was filthy, flat and triangular shaped- like it had gotten run over.  This man was just all kinds of sexy.

We rode along for a bit and then a song came to mind.  Next's "Too Close."  Step back your standing kind of close, I feel a little poke coming through...on you.  This dirty motherfucker's ranging hard on was hot dogging my ass.  Unless this is Berlin (the club, not the country), this shit is inapproprate behavior for 7:40am and he have not even bought me a fucking drink yet!

I would like to say that I turned around and decked him but you know, Lifetime movies are far more true to life than one realizes.  I would totally be the girl crying in the shower, holding herself, after getting raped.  After realizing that it was most certainly not his morning banana in his pocket, I just stood there, paralyzed for a few seconds.  Actually, my first instinct was to perch my ass out a little but then I realized I  was no longer on a high school camping trip, pretending to be passed out next to the hot senior who's slutty girlfriend didn't come along because her raging eat disorder kept her from any event that involved s'mores and twizzlers.  The bitch about anorexia is that  on one hand, it helps you get a boyfriend because you are so hot and thin but on the other hand, you lose them to whores that eat because they have more of an ass to perch out, you know?

So anyhow, I shoved my huge bag behind me to create some space between my ass and his hard, dirty cock.  It's amazing how in the throws of passion, an erection seems to last but a nanosecond but from the Armitage stop to the Chicago stop, it's the boner that just won't quit.  He must have noticed that I was not having any of it because he moved onto his new victim, SIJ.  He shifted over a bit and although she is my friend, fuck it, better it be her ass than mine.  I was wearing a silk dress and she was wearing jeans.  We all know what a bitch cum is to get off silk!  Honestly, I felt so guilty and dirty that I couldn't even look at her.

SIJ:  Um, when we get off, I have to tell you something...
Me:  Yeah, I think I already know what it is.
SIJ:  What do I do?
Me:  Just clench your ass and hope for the best.

At Merchandise Mart, about half our train got off (hopefully, the dirty motherfucker didn't) and SIJ and I scrambled to get as far away from him as possible.

Me:  Was that dude's boner digging into your ass?
SIJ:  No, I'm so much shorter than you it was digging into my side and practically locking me into place in the corner.

You know, writing this kind of depresses me.  It's been such a tragically long time since my ass has been hot dogged.  :(

A few weeks later, I was on the brown line to work again and I saw a filthy, flat triangular thumb gripping the rail.  I stuck my ass out a little...just in case.

What else would I name my wireless connection?

Trannylicious!

I like to dress up when I go out. Monday through Friday, I dress like a conservative librarian at work and on the weekends, I like to wear a cunt scraping dress, heavy eyeliner and heels so high I have to genuflect a bit so I don't actually touch Jesus in heaven.

One evening I was going to meet my friend Dave for dinner. We were going to a restaurant in Wicker Park and because it was a Friday night, i was wearing a tight black miniskirt with fishnets, heels and a black satin jacket...think Balmain chic before that shit was totally overplayed (every straight man just went to espn.com). I thought I looked fuckable but who knew that I was to receive the greatest compliment any straight girl could ever hope to receive?

I was standing at a street corner (I'd tell you which ones but I'm Asian and female, therefore, it's a miracle I knew what hood I was in), waiting for the crosswalk to turn green when a car pulled up.

"Hey girl, hey. Gurl!!! Hey..."

The voice was male...ish. As a female who sometimes dresses like I got done right and put away still wet, I've learned that it's best to not make eye contact so I clutched my YSL satchel closer to my chest and looked straight ahead.

"Honey! Baby girl. Hey. GURL, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

So I looked.

A womMAN looked at me. She was hanging out the window. She had a full face of makeup- like, that thick MAC base and you know that shit was MAC. Trannies buy cheap ass Forever 21 clothes but bitches don't scrimp on the face paint! She had fake eyelashes, blush, eyeliner to the extreme and a fucking jawline that could cut glass. Her crowning glory was her synthetic blond wig that would surly go up in a cloud of smoke if I lit a cigarette even a continent away from her.

Basically, she was everything I've ever aspired to be.

I was standing with my back toward the car and when I looked around at her, she sort of looked puzzled and then she said, "OH, YOU ARE A REAL GIRL! Oh...Um..."

The light turned green and the car sped off. As it rounded the corner, I heard her yell, "I'm sorry, baby. You're beautifuuuuuuuuuuuulllllllll..."

Sorry? What is there to be sorry about? A tranny mistook me for a tranny! It's as though Naomi Campbell herself told me my walk was fierce. Sure, some women might take this as a put down but I don't. You know you've made it in life when you have in-unit laundry and get mistaken for a tranny by a tranny. I'm still waiting for the in-unit laundry but my other dream has come true!

subject: Umm

Have I ever told you about the time a random gay man crawled into my bed and slept next to me? The thing is, the explanation doesn't make the story make more sense so here is the email my tall gay roommate sent me while the random gay dude was cuddling me with his flaccid dick resting on my leg:

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from: TGR
to: The Asian Sensation
date Sun, Oct 5, 2008 at 6:51 AM
subject: Umm


I'm sorry that it is 6:49 am and I cannot get the naked man who is sleeping in your bed to GET UP AND GET OUT OF YOUR BED. I'm sorry that you have to put up with this and I really do not know how to rectify this situation. So I'm apologizing now before the morning because I'm pretty exasperated and unsure of how to proceed. I'm mean... how do I get the naked, belligerent man out of your bed? I DON'T KNOW??? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? IS THIS THE TWILIGHT ZONE?!!!!?????

I love you. Thank you for your humor and your patience.

Love TGR.

Sorry.

Sorry again.

Yikes.

Oh brother.

-TGR

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No, for realzies, THIS SHIT DOESN'T HAPPEN TO OTHER PEOPLE.

Bag of Hair

Hello 2010!

And fuck you.

So I decided to start blogging and when I entered blogger.com, I saw I already had started one! Apparently, I've not had much to say in 2 years.

So on to 2010. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY YEAR. It really was. I felt the internal tides of change and all that jazz. And then the shit hit the proverbial fan...in every which way. But alas, it must get better, right? RIGHT?!?!?

But one thing I realized fully is that I have no creative outlet and I have shit to say...maybe to no one but myself but I'm still going to say it- and LOUDLY. That is my style.

My friend has this saying, "bag of hair." Bag of hair is a metaphor for your internal shit...the hidden stuff you need to sort out. This is because Jill is a white girl from the South side with a weave. What? Don't hate, girl's got thin hair! I have a fat stomach, she gotz a weave, i gotz my spanx! So when she comes over to our house to get ready, she literally has a bag of hair. One day, she as like, "Uh...the only weird thing about like, staying at a guy's place or hooking up with him is like, asking, 'do you have a plastic baggie....you know...for my hair?'" Personally, I think if the only shit you have hiding is a bag of hair, you are nearly perfectly sane. I don't even know what my bag of hair is but I'm going to get closer to finding it in 2010!

Happy new years, skanks. And honestly, if you've been having a good one, a little fuck you because I'm jealous and admittedly petty.