Kerissa Explains It All

RIP Whitney

2012-02-11T18:35:00.000-08:00

I am deeply devastated by the death of Whitney Elizabeth Houston and listening to her "Greatest Hits" album as I type. So rarely do we encounter an album that truly consists of nothing but songs worthy of being deemed as a greatest hit. Rarer still for the world to experience such a talent and a star as Whitney Houston.

I dreamed of her singing at the first legal mass gay wedding in California. I dreamed of more albums of her vocal glory. Will i dream no more?

This is the post I put on Facebook to show grieving solidarity with my similarly saddened friends:

"Listening to "I Will Always Love You" is giving me strength. Whitney is watching over us.

She hopes life treats us kind.
And she hopes we have all we dreamed of.
She wishes us joy and happiness.
But above all this, she wishes us love.

She's going to watch over us like when she was Cinderella's fairy godmother in the Brandy adaptation.

Be strong, my gays."

Whitney's songs epitomize all the hope I have for love. I feel that any ideals I had for love have died with her.

"Sometimes you'll laugh, sometimes you'll cry.
Life never tells us the whens or whys.
When you've got friends to wish you well, you'll find a point when you will exhale."

Breathe, breathe. One breath at a time is how we'll get through this.

Thank you, Whitney, for all the beauty you have shown me and all that you have taught me. I will always love you.

Birthdays

2011-12-02T19:02:00.001-08:00

Thank you to all the birthday well-wishers.

I was going to write a post about how birthdays don't matter but I don't care enough to not be lazy about it. So I just made a chart. See below.

FYI- 24th birthdays are negligible but I am going to have a massive blowout for my 25th.

It's almost my birthday...

2011-11-18T22:18:00.001-08:00

I'll stay home if I want to, stay home if I want to, stay home if I want to.
You'd stay home too if you're addicted to SVU.

(sing loosely to the tune of "It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To.")
My musical pacing rhythm at almost 24 years isn't what it used to be. Meh. What is what it used to be? Fuck you, metabolism, for abandoning me in my hour of need.

Jam-packed birthday plans for tomorrow. I have every intention of getting a manicure, exercising to kick off my healthy future and then I have a date with my laundry.

My Birthday Eve:
Today, I splurged on myself with some online shopping. Tonight, I baked myself a pizza with the words "HAPPY BDAY ME" written in diced jalapenos. You can't really make out the words, what with all the grease glare and all but when it comes to gifts, it's the thought that counts and this was a gift to myself and I thought it was delicious.

Meaningful and wise 24-year-old revelations likely to be posted tomorrow. Tune back in for guaranteed enlightenment. I sense self-deprecating online dating in my old lady future. And drastic yet extremely short-lived hysteria diets. Because that's what grown-ups do.

End of an Era

2011-11-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

I am leaving GSP.

I have so many fond memories of the past 2 years and 2 months. I'd share my goodbye email here but that's an intimate love letter I am sharing only with the other several hundred people working out of the SF office. There's no way I can summarize my time here but here's some of the appropriate lessons learned:

Always stimulate yourself with challenging work.

Inspire yourself with the greatness of others.

Be optimistic in the face of failure (or getting robbed).

Persevere and you will finally attain victory.

Always try to adapt.

Work well with others.

Put others before yourself.

All in all, an invaluable experience that has made me who I am today…anxious but happy. Tough act to follow.

I'm off to do ad sales next, still in SF. And I'm hoping pursue my other passion: myself…in the form of blog posts, books, follow-up music to my hit single, etcetera. Stay tuned.

Happy 2 Year Anniversary, GSP!

2011-09-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe ANOTHER year has gone by. What a wonderfully long, short year.

We just had an all-agency meeting, undoubtedly called in my honor, but instead of showing the montage video about how amazing I am, I had them use the time to present a really great project our agency has undertaken: hackingautism.org
I highly encourage anyone reading this, all four of you, to check it out and get involved if you can.

I'll embellish more later but right now I have to get my bangs trimmed.

Writer's block

2011-08-12T22:05:00.000-07:00

Home sick from running through the 'loin (that's the Tenderloin for all you non-SFers, arguable the worst part of the city) to get to a bar last night but for a much nobler reason than you'd expect. I had just downloaded a cut of a commercial we had to ship by a certain time that night and needed to go to a happy hour to get someone to watch and approve it ASAP. It was a "fire drill" if you will (that's an urgent situation for all you non-corporate folks who haven't become linguistically sterile from too many work emails). Anyway, the running got my body all hot and so I took my jacket off and kept it off for most of the several hours I ended up staying at the bar, caught a cold, stayed out late, got up early to do pilates while feeling vomatose (like comatose but in the state of feeling like you are going to throw up versus being in a coma), blah blah. Anyway, this paragraph has been a huge digression instead of a segue as intended.

Trying to write (one of) my book(s)––contain your excitement, people––and struggling to focus my words. At first, blogging was hard because I had to think of my own topics and create my own constructs but now that I am attempting to hone my thinking, I can't do it. The grass is always greener, am I right?

Ugh, I don't know how my predecessors did it. My book will be very Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life meets Jane Eyre. Try to guess which book I am referencing to allude to my writing style and which book I am mentioning to foreshadow the laughably-unfortunate plot that is my life. Hint: there is no horizontal in my book. It's very Bridget Jones' Diary (the movie more than the book) minus the obesity, smoking and accents.

Anyhoo, I don't know how Chelsea Handler and Tina Fey wrote their memoirs. Do you think they were writing at their vanity, alternately typing and staring at themselves in the mirror? Do you think they listened to the Alanis Morissette Pandora station, too? They wrote on Friday nights in the prime of their youth too, right? Right?

Proud Moment

2011-08-07T11:18:00.000-07:00

I am extremely proud to share with you proof of my Big Buck Hunter greatness:

Yes, that is correct. I DID get 5 out of 5 perfect sites, killing 15 out of 15 bulls.

When it comes to hunting digital animals, don't mess with KER.

Work Shenanigans: Part 2

2011-07-20T21:41:00.001-07:00

I'm long overdue for a lengthy and likely-boring post about what I've been up to the past few months....the 56 pretty-much-consecutive days I spent in LA for work, the actual TV spots we have to show for and the second wave of my child stardom...

Also got some exciting personal changes (like the haircut I got a week ago that no one has noticed) to report but I'll get to that later.

In the mean time, to tide all my readers who have undoubtedly been holding their breaths since my last post, here's an email I sent to my team this week after suffering a traumatizing injury:

From: Kerissa Chan
Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2011 08:25:40 -0500
To:
Cc:
Subject: Kerissa Maimed in Kitchen Accident, Working from Home 7/18

Hello,

I got burned in the stomach yesterday from a pot-to-colander pasta transfer gone awry. The burn has progressed from puffy pigmentation to include a mountain range of juicy blisters. Wearing a shirt/dress rubs the Neosporin off and chafes the ringworm-looking wound and surrounding affected area. I've never been especially great at recognizing HR violations but I don't think I'm allowed to come to work topless or wearing a midriff so I'll be working from home in protest of such ridiculous corporate dress codes and in lament of my shattered dreams of becoming a swimsuit model (unless there's a burn victim calendar accepting applicants).

I plan on being back at the office tomorrow unless two nights of an exposed midsection causes me to catch a cold.

I'll be online all day per usual with slower internet and stunted access to the server. Also reachable via cellphone.

Thanks for understanding,

Kerissa

You remind me of...

2011-06-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

Here's a list of people/animals I have reminded people of:

"my retarded cat who eats rubber bands." -my dear friend Kristin; 2005
"this girl we used to call 'Weird Horse Girl."-some guy who came up to me when I was sketching for an art class in Sproul Plaza at Cal. Apparently, she used to sketch horses all the time; 2009
"You look just like Tiger Woods' mom." -an Oakland hobo to me despite the fact she's like 60 and I am 23...at least he reassured me that she's a "lovely lady"; 2011
"the amazing Asian in Hangover" -my freshman year college roommate, Heather; 2011. I asked her if she meant the girl, the brother or the old drug dealer guy. She meant "the hilarious, out of control drug dealer even though [I am] the furthest thing from a drug dealer or a guy," which I thought was a nice thing to say

Don't you wish...

2011-06-14T17:54:00.001-07:00

that there were filters on websites so you could:

filter out stock-looking photos on stock image sites?
filter out ugly, gross, pervy, etcetera people on dating sites?
filter out reviews by non-Chinese people on Yelp when looking for a good Chinese restaurant?

that you could Google really specific questions like:

where is my lost wallet?
whatever happened to my dog that ran away?
is she lying?

Self-loathing

2011-06-06T22:07:00.001-07:00

As a person who has had to book travel for someone else and who has had to go back and forth between the traveler and the travel department based on the traveler's random preferences, I always told myself I wouldn't be like that. I'd be easy-going. Put me on a flight and I'll survive through economy. Book me a room and I'll be fine.

And now, having traveled for the greater part of the past month, I am becoming one of those annoying picky travelers. I haven't gotten annoying about flights yet but here are some complaints I've had about hotel rooms that have caused me to switch rooms:

there is an adjoining door- I could hear my neighbor pee, which meant they could hear me pee (and sing and jump and dance) too. SCARY. And there was no balcony and the window looked out to street level. DOUBLY SCARY.
the journey to the room was too arduous- two elevators.
the room was a handicap room- I have nothing against handicap people. I just don't want to live like one and I'm pretty sure if they had the choice, they wouldn't want to either. I just felt disoriented being in a handicap room because I knew all the differences, having stayed in different rooms within the hotel. For instance, there was no window to the bathroom from the bedroom which is trademark of this hotel, no bathtub, no beach towel, and no slippers. The toilet was in the main part of the bathroom instead of its own separate room. All this makes partial or whole sense except the bottles of soaps and lotions were jumbo compared to what they normally give you and the bed is still ridiculously high (up to my belly button). As an able-bodied person, I sometimes struggle jumping in.

You never have it as good as your first time. My first room at this hotel was the best. I miss it.

At least I'm not demanding turn-down service yet. I'm getting sick of room service food. I am tempted to have Domino's or Indian delivered.

I kind of hate myself right now.

I have been traveling for a grotesquely long time. I am now FourSquare mayor of my hotel, my hotel's more casual dining restaurant and the edit house we frequent most. I only have 3 pairs of pants with me: a pair of jeans, a pair of stupid Huckleberry cut-off jean shorts and yoga pants. Needless to say, I'm constantly dressed to impressed here.

On another note, it perpetually feels like Tuesday, in which you're far enough from the past weekend to not remember what it feels like to unwind and far enough from the future weekend to not remember what it feels like to be hopeful and excited.

I am doing what I wanted to do though so I guess it shouldn't matter what I'm wearing or what day it feels like!

The Social Media Conundrum

2011-05-30T00:35:00.000-07:00

Does social media hurt or help our lives more?

I love to get my creepy Google stalk on. I like being able to discreetly research whomever comes to mind on my daily Facebook jaunt. But what about those people I don't care about or have stopped caring about or who just plague my account with stupid feed posts and invites to sleazy events I will never attend. Ever. Or those people that I don't want to stalk me. I'm conceited, so there aren't many of those but I'm sure it's a concern for more mildly self-absorbed people.

There's some statistic floating around that 1 in 5 divorces is because of Facebook. While I hope my future relationships can stand the test of social media, I can see how widespread online presence complicates things. The natural order and life cycles of relationships are completely thrown off, creating newfound dilemmas:

1. You never really wanted to get in touch but it'd be too awkward to reject their extension of friendship: I know some real hard asses out there who keep their list of Facebook friends very exclusive. I just don't have the heart to do it. I think it's uncomfortable to keep a request in my acceptance/rejection queue when I see the person daily and they know that you know that they know you aren't accepting them. (The only exception to this is my mom. Sorry, Pinki; I don't feel badly about not accepting you). Long story short, I have an extensive and not exclusive list of Facebook friends that I may or may not remember my connection to. But not you, of course. I know and like you. But to all those other unremarkable randoms: sorry I defriended you on your birthday because it's the only time I remember you exist. It's not you. You didn't do anything wrong. It's not me either. Let's just not just do this meaningless dance of sporadic "happy birthday" posts and occasional "Likes." We both know it's a farce.

2. The people you SHOULD have fallen out of touch with are still in touch: I often write my memoirs in my mind or ponder on things that are hilarious and influential to my existence but feel myself held back creatively. Gone are the days when someone could just write about that dumb ho ____ who ____ back in ____. Or that psycho bitch who ____ that one time in ____. Normally, you'd graduate high school/college or change jobs or move and never have to encounter that person again. You've outgrown each other. You've had a falling out. You never really liked them. Whatever. But now the anonymity is gone because that dumb ho and that psycho bitch are my friends on Facebook (and really only on Facebook). They may one day read about how I think they are a dumb ho or a psycho bitch and do something crazy like blog about how they hate me or defriend me (which I guess wouldn't be so bad). But I don't like hurting feelings. I'm limited, like Elpheba from Wicked.

3. You can't really reinvent yourself: There it is. A digital trail of who you were that will follow you until you die or until every server in the world fails and shuts down beyond repair or until rapture actually hits. You can untag and privatize all you want but it's there. The remnants of your past that will ride your coattails all the way into your future. And the government agencies, private investigators and highly-trained internet stalkers can and will find it.

4. You've got something to hide or at least do not want to announce to the world: You're dating someone shocking that will lead to drama of reality show proportions. You've gained a grotesque amount of weight you fully intend to lose before any upcoming reunion. You're unemployed. You're alone. You have a black eye. You've changed. You haven't changed. And now you have no where to hide.

5. Shit's going to get even more awkward when our kids get Facebook: Some of our parents are on Facebook now and it's okay because all they post are pictures of them with their grandkids or book club. Social chaos will hit once our kids get to be the age where they can Google stalk us. That picture you thought would be funny of you drunkenly ___? They're going to see that and lose respect for you since you were/are a complete degenerate. It's like when people get tattoos that are "ironic" or "spontaneous." That "in the moment" or "hip" idea from the now is going to be a wrinkled or sadly saggy source of embarrassment for your kids in the future.

Anyway, I wish there were a socially acceptable way to cut or avoid ties with people. Like a politically correct automated email that basically communicated this message:

"Please don't take this the wrong way but I want you to get the fuck out of my life. It's not that the circumstances of my life don't allow for you to be in it at the moment. It's that I don't want you in it ever because you suck as a person. [Insert link(s) to an anecdote(s) of how much or why they suck, if applicable in case they don't know why they suck in the context of you and you don't want to hurt them unless they're really begging for it because you're the bigger and better person.] No hard feelings. Have a good one."

One would receive such a correspondence and just accept it without any ill will or being offended and go about the rest of their lame lives, leaving you alone to live out your presumably less lame life.

Various thoughts

2011-05-23T22:55:00.000-07:00

So I'm basically on week two of living in the Los Angeles-area in a mix of hotels and my childhood home (with one night in my apartment in SF) and out of my poorly-packed suitcase. The people I work with can expect a consistent rotation of the 4 outfits I packed for my indefinitely long trip.

Anyway, random thoughts:

- The mere sight of Oprah Gayle Winfrey can bring me to tears. She's just such a boss.

- If I could be anyone, I would probably be Beyonce. She is just so beautiful and talented and probably has the best weave collection in the world; it's unfair. She seems like a really nice, sweet person too. She has two personalities, her true self and her stage personality, Sasha Fierce. Turning a mental disease into diva ferocity...How bad ass is that? Every day of her life, she just shakes her booty onstage in some glittery, fabulous ensemble and looks hot to make millions. Do you know how badly I wish I could live my life wearing just a sparkly leotard? I'll bet she smells nice too.

- If I could befriend anyone, it'd be Britney. I think we'd really get along and could be very good for one another. We'd get in shape together with her personal trainer. Go get Hot Cheetos together (though I'd probably turn her on to salt 'n vinegar Kettle chips). Or maybe we'd get Pringles and do funny duck bill faces out of the chips. Maybe I'd politely suggest getting gourmet salad instead of McDonald's. Maybe I'd concede to fast food and order Domino's for us.

- Being in nice, fancy hotels, I feel like a joke. I just don't need to be served the way some people do. I don't let them lay out my towel for me at the pool. I try to hold open the door when they push the room service cart in. Turn-down service is the most absurd thing. It's like, "No, ma'am, I don't need you to come back in a few hours after you've cleaned my room to turn down my bed. I can pull the blanket back and crawl in myself, thank you."

Blogs to come

2011-05-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

I've been too busy/lazy lately to get to blogging but here are some thing I've been thinking about that could lead to blog posts:

- in-depth academic analysis of Britney's "Till the World Ends" music video

- my experience waiting for and watching Britney's GMA performance (re: the recorder)

- more work shenanigans like my Comic Sans experiment and work travel experiences

- perhaps starting a "thought of the week" section or weekly post, like how sad would it be if your job was to write and update obituaries for famous people who are still alive and possibly not moribund or what it'd be like if my parents were my age...would I be friends with them? Hate them?

- my ideas of how we can help the homeless and my failed club idea, "Hotties for Hobos" (suspiciously similar to my "That 80's club" idea whereby young people born in the 80's would volunteer to help people in their 80's)

-my favorite music videos

-taking a bath

- and more!

In other news, I got a new stock pot that I'm unwarrantedly excited about. So pumped about making some soups, stews and chilis!

Hip Hop Classacre

2011-03-08T22:10:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is going to be more of a cathartic post so it'll be even less interesting than usual.

Every now and then I have a Wizard of Oz moment in which I realize where I am and what I am doing. Most of the time I go through the motions of my day to day without processing the bigger picture that I have been living and working in San Francisco for over a year and a half now. Sometimes I feel like this isn't my life but I'm at camp or taking a semester in someone else's life. It's surreal when I stop to think about it, like how the things I pass on my daily commute are tourist attractions. I had a Dorothy-like epiphany today but not like my usual ones.

I have a Groupon expiring in 8 days and need to take 3 classes to not waste it. So today I decided to take a hip-hop dance class. As soon as I began my journey, I remembered I'm not in Kansas (or San Marino; I've never been to Kansas) anymore.

I took the bus. Everyone who knows me knows I hate public transportation and hope to never have to take it after I really grow up. I followed Google Maps' direction and got off at a stop that was amidst a line-up of street people and next to a freeway exit and some overpasses. I literally ran from my stop to the dance studio because I was convinced someone was following me to mug me. I don't take running lightly so my safety was a true concern.

I forgot how awkward and nervous I get in random situations, like being spoken to by retail store staff. They scare me. And apparently so do dance classes. Maybe it's just an emotional reflex to the feeling of being judged that I've had since my glory days as a member of the prestigious and elite intermediate dance class at SMHS (sarcasm). A minute in, I knew this wasn't Miss H's fifth period. We weren't going to just stretch and do mild jazz for 50 minutes to Janet Jackson and Pink. Shit was going to get real.

I haven't taken a dance class in a while (except for my ballet core workout class with 4 geriatric women which I am now missing and learning to appreciate) but there are two truths to dance classes that still ring true. In every dance class, there is always:

- that one white girl who is overly confident for no reason. She usually accentuates her flailing interpretation of the choreography with a facial expression she would probably use if she starred in a bad porno film.

- a thicky girl who is just killing it. You go, hefty girl!

As expected, I got my ass dance-kicked by some Asian chicks (shockingly not Filipinas!) who added insult to injury by recording group turns at the choreography with their iPhone 4s, only worsening my performance because, as I was dancing, I realized I was going to be one of those dumb bitches dancing like an idiot in some YouTube video.

This experience was not a complete waste. I realized two quick fixes for improving my next hip hop class experience (if I ever dare show my face in a dance studio again). First, I need to wear baggier clothes as to immediately seem more thug. Also, the looseness of my apparel will make it harder for people to decipher my inevitably-incorrect movements. Second, I need to not wear shirts with my college written in big, bold letters across my tits or sweatshirts with my name embroidered on it lest I bring shame to my alma mater and myself/my family.

I also got some great business ideas for dance classes that don't exist but should:

- a Britney Spears series: choreography based on and inspired by great Britney songs and videos

- a cheer dance class: would feature cheer-style choreography with jumps and maybe some light stunting

- a music video study: taking movements from music videos and turning them into more full length choreography.

- introductory go go dancing: I shouldn't have to explain but this would be dancing solo in your underwear and learning to look hot and have fun while doing it!

Anyway, nothing like running from would-be muggers and getting humiliated in a dance class to realize you're not in your little safe town with mediocre dancers/dance teachers anymore (no offense, Titans; you know what I mean!).

Should I be concerned that I can spend over an hour writing about thoughts I thought during a one hour dance class? I think I think too much.

UPDATE 3/11:

This is an e-mail my mother sent a BCC-ed group of her friends with an accompanying video of two cute kids dancing in a talent show:

How I wish I could dance!

At least one of my daughters is a dancer.

These two kids are so great.

Pinki

If you couldn't figure it out, I am the daughter who is not Pinki-certified enough to get "dancer" status. Womp.

"Till the World Ends" Means Forever

2011-03-03T20:05:00.000-08:00

And that's how long I will love Britney Spears.

Here I am, spreading the Britney gospel again.

Today, the full version of her next single, "Till the World Ends," was unofficially released and it is an instant classic. Sometimes you just know when a song has the staying power to fuel future generations. This must be what the young people felt in 1970 when The Beatles released "Let It Be."

Listen for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEQJwK2D2T0

Dance parties, possibly drug-induced orgies, and dance marathon fundraisers to come can thank Britney for this anthem. This song makes me want to lose my inhibitions and just dance. There are so many things right about this song. Let me break it down:

- It's co-written by Ke$ha, whom I often refer to as the voice of our generation

- Lyrics include "See the sun rise/We ain't stoppin'/Keep on dancing till the world ends/If you feel it/Let it happen"....AAH, EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING!!!

- It features undeniable dance beat with trance-y reverberations for extra oomph

- It is reminiscent of that catchy Zombie Nation song they play at soccer games

- Loved by all (described as "ear porn" by Perez Hilton and Snookie says it makes her want to "tree branch" dance)

- The song ends....or does it? Fake-out ending with subsequent ramp-up!? A musical ploy that is under-utilized! Dance breakdown anyone?

- It opens the doors for so many titillating music video possibilities. (I'm envisioning Britney dancing in a club, the venue overheating from all the unavoidable hotness, followed by Britney dancing as she's showered by water from the fire sprinklers. Whatever it is, it better be solid choreography shot in full-length but not too zoomed out, with interstitial shots of Britney's perfect lip synching face or hot body close-ups.)

FORMULA FOR SUCCESS! I've honestly listened to this song on repeat all fucking day and loved every second of it. I've been bopping in my cubicle, trying to contain my excitement, only to end up quietly dry-heaving and hyperventilating at my desk.

Don't call it a comeback; bitch never left.

Workplace Shenanigans: Part 1

2011-02-26T11:02:00.000-08:00

I envision this as a series of workplace shenanigans. Keep in mind that what I can share on the internet is only a sliver what goes on. Sorry, I'd like to stay employed.

PART 1: Out of office (OOO) notices I've sent to my team (co-workers, bosses, bosses' boss, bosses' boss' boss, etcetera)

------ Forwarded Message

From: Kerissa

Date: Fri, 25 Feb 2011 16:43:50 -0600

To:

Subject: Kerissa's Upcoming OOO times

Hello team,

We all know that “I’m a Slave 4 U.” When it comes to work, I was “Born to Make You Happy.” But “Sometimes,” “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” from work alone... The “Circus” that is our work lives just isn’t enough.

We also all know that I’ve got a certain someone on my “Radar.” And she has decided to grace the Castro with a Good Morning America performance on March 29. Yes. I am talking about the “Hot as Ice” and “Stronger” Miss Britney Spears. To say I am “Anticipating” this “Heaven on Earth” performance would be an understatement.

I know when we talk about music, it’s often “Me Against the Music” that I like and that everyone else hates. But I can’t fight this “Bombastic Love” for Britney Spears. “(I Got That) Boom Boom” when I hear her angelic voice. Despite your disapproval for my musical choices, I hope you’ll understand that I need to leave by 5pm on March 28th to camp out and will be taking the first half of March 29th off.

“My Only Wish (This Year)” is to see her. I don’t want to seem “Outrageous,” but keeping me from this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity could have “Toxic” ramifications “From the Bottom of My Broken Heart.”

“Everytime” I ask for time off, a “Piece of Me” dies. So if this is going to be an issue, “Don’t Let Me Be the Last to Know.” “E-mail My Heart” and voice your concerns now. I know this will inconvenience the team so don’t hesitate to “Gimme More” work before and after. I’m very “Lucky” to have an understanding team like you so I hope this won’t be a problem.

Hope you don’t “Hold It Against Me.”

Regards,

Kerissa

------ End of Forwarded Message

------ Forwarded Message

From: Kerissa

Date: Fri, 11 Feb 2011 16:43:06 -0600

To:

Subject: Kerissa leaving by 8pm on Monday, 2/14

Hello Team,

Just letting you guys know that I need to leave our office by 8pm Monday, 2/14. As you can see from the attached image, I have non-negotiable plans. I’d like to be out by 7 but my hard stop is 8.

Thank you for your understanding.

-Kerissa

------ End of Forwarded Message

Attachment:

e-dating round 2

2011-02-15T20:03:00.000-08:00

Never one to learn my lesson the first time around, I went back to OkCupid with another e-dating social experiment. I was no longer on the hunt for a quadruple date (my 3 friends can suck it!). This time, I wanted to test my hypothesis that a boobie shot as a default picture would lead to greater OkCupid "success" (if you were measuring success by number of messages and inferred interest). I had recommended this luring strategy to a friend who didn't believe me until she changed her picture to a chesty photo and instantly noticed a spike in message reception.

So I thought to myself, "Fuck it; my boobs are bigger. Let's see how I fare with a cleavage photo!" To make the experiment measure the influence of the boobie picture and reduce the influence of other factors, I tried to make my personality as awful as possible. And this is the profile I ended up with:

I spend a lot of time thinking about

- myself... usually done while staring at myself in the mirror for long periods of time/for no particular reason and especially when I've stopped listening to other people talk.
- how sad it is blind people can't use the internet.
- what would happen if I gave into my urges and actually punched punch-able faces instead of just fantasizing about it.
- whether or not my personality matters if I have a cleavage shot as my default picture.

You should message me if

you want to take me to see Justin Bieber's "Never Say Never"...in 3D...in IMAX...on Valentine's Day.

Here's what I discovered:

PRE-EXPERIMENT FINDINGS

- First, it is incredibly hard to find a recent cleavage picture of myself. I don't know if I'm taking fewer pictures whilst wearing busty shirts or if I'm just wearing fewer busty shirts...whatever the reason, I had to find pictures that were 2 years old or older in order to get some boobies up in there. I was literally about to put on a bikini top and force my roommate to play photographer.

- Second, making your default a true cleavage shot is incredibly difficult. Girls who have boobie pictures REALLY have to try. Here's why: in a good boobie picture, you can see the cleavage when the picture is zoomed in to the default preview/thumbnail type position that typically consists of a person's face and maybe some neck/shoulders. So really, the boobs have to be pretty close to your face to fit in frame. Unless you can motorboat yourself, this proves to be a incredibly hard image to find.

EXPERIMENTAL RESULTS

- I received about 5 times as many messages with a boobie picture and awful personality compared to when I had a normal picture with an ambiguously normal personality.

- The messages I received were a lot more looks-oriented ("u hella cute ma," "your so fine," "undoubtedly beautiful").

- The messages I received were much longer and took much more effort. There was this one guy who went through each line of my profile to tell me what horrible characteristic it illustrated about me (i.e. narcissistic, vapid, too small to inflict significant bodily harm on someone else...all negative traits I was trying to convey) in a multi-paragraph message. But the fact is, as awful as he thought I was, he STILL put something in my inbox.

- I got more persistent attention. Guys who had messaged me before would message me again, even with absolutely no response from me. Ever.

- The outlier: An offer from a shirtless Jersey-Shore-reject from Vallejo who "liked [my] pics and [was] wondering if [I] wanted to hook up sometime and maybe fuck or whatever." I would like to know what "whatever" he had in mind or what "whatever" he'd be up for...like shaving each other's backs? Doing our taxes while listening to some Enya together? I politely ignored this vague offer.

- Guys were really fired up about the blind people comment. Okay, okay blind people can USE the internet. But they can't ENJOY it to the same capacity as the seeing. Example: A YouTube video of a baby panda sneezing isn't funny with just audio.

- I received a few offers on taking me to see Justin Bieber's "Never Say Never" on Valentine's Day but were often caveated with some form of incentive ("I get to be drunk" or "you'll have to triple dog dare me.") One guy even told me he'd take me "to see Bieber in his pants."

- Few online people know the difference between "your" and "you're" (and you are dead to me if you can't distinguish those two from "ur" or "u're"). I once replied to a guy just to call him out for not knowing the difference (and to ask why his picture was so fuzzy) and he replied earnestly with what the difference is but later repeated the error in that same message. Looks like schools need to be pushing grammar a little harder.

CONCLUSION

Cleavage shots DO get you more attention. Furthermore, the guys giving you that attention are willing to tolerate a lot more from you including, but not limited to, a terrible personality, your ignoring them, your sending condescending messages back, etcetera.

Despite portraying myself as conceited, dumb, prone to violence, unserious about online dating who happens to be a busty Belieber, I got far more and more intense attention than in my previous experiment.

Around 40 messages later, I am no closer to love and maintain my stance that I will not pursue online dating for serious purposes for some time. But I'll probably scheme up a new social experiment angle and be back on the site before the month's end.

P.S. I did end up going to see Justin Bieber's Never Say Never in 3D (not in IMAX, though not because I didn't try) on Valentine's day. My good friend Jessie was nice enough to dress up in business casual (MY FAVORITE), get flowers for me and my 2 friends, eat with us at my favorite restaurant, and let me talk his ear off during the entire movie. Best date ever.

e-dating = e-fail

2011-01-23T13:40:00.000-08:00

This week, I tried my hand at online dating...not with the purpose of finding love or sex. My objective was to find something for me and three friends to do on Saturday. So on Wednesday night, I posted one picture of myself and this on okcupid.com:

You should message me if

you and up to 3 of your good-looking (or at least average) male friends* want to do some fun activity of your choice (nothing gross, please) with me and my 3 female friends this Saturday, 1/22.

I assure you we are at least average. Please see my photos for proof. Note: we will not be wearing Hawaiian attire on Saturday, unless the activity is a luau.

*We are considering individual, duo, and triad offers as well. We are reasonable and understand it is short notice. Thanks!

Here is a list of reasons my foray into online dating was a failure:

1. Offensively low number of offers. Someone asked if I play foosball, some foreigner wanted to take us dancing, and one guy didn't have an activity planned but "[likes] the one with yellow flowers!" Creepy. Some said they already had plans for Saturday but otherwise would want to hang out. Unhelpful!

2. Quality of messages. Instead of actual offers for what I was asking, I mostly got messages about how genius/original I am (thanks, Captains Obvious!), asking what the catch is, and requests to let them know how it goes. I understand some of them were trying to get a dialogue going without putting themselves out there so I can excuse those guys for their lack of assertiveness.

However, I got some really ridiculous messages. One gem messaged nothing but "Jesus loves you." One guy messaged me the definition of anilingus because in one of the questions to determine your matches, I commented that I didn't know what it was and had no desire to find out. Telling me it's "licking ass" after I explicitly said I don't want to know? Come the fuck on!

Another note: if you're trying to get someone interested in you with a 2-sentence message, please have the decency to spell check or at least use some sort of punctuation.

3. Quality of respondents. Given the caliber of gentleman interest, am I to assume I am straight up 2 or 3 (based on a 1-10 scale)? I am offended for myself and on behalf of my three friends. Am I (are we) unworthy of normal-looking, non-socially inept guys?

4. My "matches" depressed me. The list of guys that OkCupid thought were good matches for me honestly frightened me. It worries me more than a career test in high school that said I should be a police officer.

Lessons learned:

- Guys put up deceptive pictures of themselves to seem better-looking as much as girls do. Yes, I'm calling you out Mr. Sunglasses-in-every-picture and Mr. Too-far-to-really-get-a-good-look. After luring you to their profiles with flattering or ambiguous main photos, further review of all their photos revealed they were far less attractive than you were led to believe.

- No popped collar necessary; guys can seem like douche bags with written word. I don't give a shit that only 12% of you is fat or that you can press 300 lbs.

- Anilingus is "licking ass." I'll be writing to Merriam-Webster to make sure this quality definition makes it into the next edition.

I ended up not responding to anyone so no date was e-arranged. My Saturday wasn't too bad though. I went for a run (a.k.a. walk/light jog) with a friend, ate lunch with friends, unsuccessfully attempted to nap, cleaned my room a bit, and went out.

I realize I could have put in more effort by initiating messaging with more desirable prospects, offering information on my profile, responding to messages I did receive, posting up pictures of myself in which my boobs look big... but I don't think doing all that would attract the type of prospects I'd want me and my friends to hang out with anyway.

All in all, I don't think I'm very good at online dating so I'll just cross that off my e-bucket list. If I want to be pursued by gross creepers, I'll just go to Vegas wearing a shirt as a dress.

UPDATE: Tempted to do something in hopes of finding someone to take me to see Never Say Never, the Justin Bieber movie, in 3D on Valentine's Day. Anyone want to save me the trouble and volunteer now?

Not even fair.

2011-01-18T22:25:00.001-08:00

Something has been bothering me lately. Making me feel inadequate. Leading me to wish I were someone else. Driving me to consider taking drastic action.

That something is Ciara's "Ride" video.

Here's the link: http://bit.ly/gSEktM

It is truly upsetting yet a visual feast. A self-esteem killer yet a source of hope. So hot it was banned on BET, a station that regularly shows hoes in various states of undress rump-shaking and thigh-quaking. Yup, it's that good.

As the people who know me well (and unfortunately even the ones who don't know me well at all) can attest, I love to learn filthy dance moves from music videos and reenact them...in the club, at office-sponsored holiday parties, in the privacy of my own room...you get the idea.

Here are some favorites:

• Christina Aguilera- "Dirrty"

• Britney Spears- any video or performance, really; with the exception of the "Gimme More" video (though I didn't get any moves from that video, I'm not completely convinced she didn't get those moves from me)

• Beyonce- "Single Ladies"

• Miley Cyrus- "Hoedown Throwdown"

• Cali Swag District- "Teach Me How to Dougie"

• Soulja Boy- "Crank That"

Normally, after several weeks worth of nighttime training in front of a full-length mirror, I can usually somewhat achieve enough mastery to perform a recognizable movement (you should ask anyone who's been to a school dance with me...my X-tina badonkadrop is impeccable). This is not the case for "Ride."

My good friend Laura calls this the "I'm-so-good-at-sex" video and I doubt it could be described any better. It's like Ciara is spitting in my face and screaming, "You like that, don't you!" And I do.

It's not fair. I've practiced. I really have. I've tried that knee-spreading, ground-slapping move in a perfect space that is totally not a conference room table at my office. I still can't nail a single move in that video. My roommate Josh swears there are hidden ropes being used in some scenes. I myself suspected CGI in some parts but, in the end, I have faith that Ciara is just that orgasmic that she can defy the law of gravity.

This music video has made me realize how very observant and wise Laura is as she was the one to come across this spot-on revelation: we could stop eating and work out for the rest of our lives and we still could never dance like that.

It's a painful. I think this is what Ivan Turgenev meant in "Fathers and Sons" when he wrote, "it's a bitter pill and she must swallow it." It is what Alanis Morissette would call a jagged, little pill. The bitter, jagged, little pill of truth that we will never be able to gyrate in butch clothing and look hot; that we will never be able to booty pop while in a squat; that we will never achieve such sexual greatness even if we master mechanical bull-riding and douse ourselves in baby oil.

New Take on an Old Post for the New/Old Year

2011-01-15T12:47:00.000-08:00

At the end of 2009, I started a post about my proudest accomplishments for that year and my hopes for 2010. It is now 2011 and I just stumbled upon that list. Now it's time for a reality check. 2011 updates in blue, 2009 writing in black.

NEW! Updates written by special guests Kristen and Josh (my roommates) in red.

2009 accomplishments:

• fought off my first would-be mugger

2011 Update: Failed to fight off my first punch in the face.

• learned how to cook rice in a pot (versus a rice cooker)

2011 Update: Forgot how to cook rice in a pot, can't find my rice cooker.

• graduated college

2011 Update: They can never take it away from me!

• got a job

2011 Update: Still have it by some miracle.

• won a costume contest

2011 Update: Only got an honorable mention at the work costume contest and my costume nearly got me thrown out of the party I went to at Halloween 2010.

2010 goals:

• finally learn the "Hoedown Throwdown" lyrics/dance

2011 Update: Fail, though I did learn how to Dougie and stanky leg.

• weigh less in pounds than a healthy human body temperature in Fahrenheit degrees OR cut weight to the point that someone stages an intervention

2011 Update: Fail. Fail. Fail.

• achieve video ho stardom and/or get a reality show

2011 Update: Draw. I have over 8,000 views on YouTube for "Party in the PRC" but I also got turned down by another rapper (An artist named Kenna joins Pharrell in the "We-don't-want-Kerissa-as-our-video-ho" club).

• go to a Lilith Fair concert (if not multiple)

2011 Update: Draw. Successfully went to Lilith but there was no Alanis or Tracy Chapman or Lisa Loeb or Sheryl. There was Sarah MacLachlan but apparently even lesbians won't hit on me. I repeat, it's a draw.

• go to the gym more (which shouldn't be hard...going more than 5 times this year would still be an improvement from my 2009 attendance)

2011 Update: Quasi-success. I think I went maybe 6 times this year, but I've had complimentary gym membership all year...However, I did buy a Wii so I could play "Just Dance 2." "We Cheer 2" and "Wii Fit Plus," which are all surprisingly great sources of cardio. I'm sore from last night's intense cheer/fit session. I think that's progress.

Roommate Update: Draw/mini-fail. She also has a gym in our building that we go to nightly and graciously invite her to yet she declines every time. She claims to be "allergic."

• get a hobby/interest

2011 Update: Fail. My sole interest is still unfortunately myself.

Despite the failures and lack of significant progress, I'd still say 2010 was a good year. Things don't have to turn out the way you wanted them to in order to be good.

2011 goals:

• learn to slowly introduce new people to my ridiculosity

• cure myself of verbal diarrhea

• pursue my side projects more aggressively

• chronicle my life better

• read all the quality literature I own so that I may pass on my wisdom to my friends (Note: Self-help books are the equivalent to literature in her world.)

• think less, do more

• call my dad (and I guess my mother) more often

• catch anorexia or a hyperactive thyroid or just stop eating Indian food

• send the thank-you cards I write

• stretch more so that I don't pull a groin muscle when (not if) I drunkenly do the splits

• get fewer injuries, or at least be drunk when I get them so I have an excuse

• kick my Angry Birds addiction

Ambitious, I know. That's just how I am though. In it to win it.

Baked Goods Gone Bad: The Betrayals.

2010-11-18T12:59:00.000-08:00

Betrayal 1: The muffin incident.

I buy muffins one weekend morning for me and my roommates and put them in our glass cake display. One of my dear roommates calls down to me to say she "only ate half" and asked if she should put the other "half" back into the display, which to me meant that it was worth saving. I said, "Sure, I'll just eat the other half then." She pauses, says okay and leaves.

This is what I discovered waiting for me upstairs:

Half? That's half? Who rapes a muffin of all their muffin top goodness and claims that the less-desirable bottom is "half!" Why not just tell me "I only ate the top" or just make an executive decision on your own to either save it or toss it? Sad thing is I ate it.

Betrayal 2: The cupcake incident.

At work the other day, we had Kara's cupcakes in assorted flavors. I selected a vanilla on vanilla cupcake with sprinkles. There were 2. I ate half of it hastily since I was super busy and left the other disheveled but still delicious half on the desk I co-habitate with some people I thought were my friends. Hours pass and after a call that lasted three times longer than it was supposed to, I walk out excited to eat the other half but instead discover this:

A "friend" premeditated eating the other half. She got a plate and a knife, presumably because she was going to cut off the parts of the cupcake that had my cooties on it but instead got overzealous with her slaughter of my sweet tooth dreams that she just ignored her initial sanitary concerns and devoured it all. She claims she thought I stole her cupcake, discovered I didn't and still ate my cupcake anyway.

Where have people's senses of pastry decency gone?

If I had 3 wishes...

2010-10-11T22:38:00.001-07:00

I would wish:

that Britney & Justin would get back together and live happily ever after. I believe they are meant for each other. They are star-crossed lovers destined to spend the rest of eternity together, like Romeo and Juliet or Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski. You two were your best when you were with each other. You're a bigger power couple than Jay-Z and Beyonce. Don't fight it.

for the creation of hotels for hobos all over the world. It'd be like in that Nickelodeon movie, Hotel for Dogs, but for hobos instead of dogs. Hobos would check in, get their lives together, and check out to become non-smelly, functional members of society. Could be a reality show.

for a fountain of hot. In mythology, there's a fountain for youth. People are obsessed with being forever young and not just because of the Rod Stewart song or the Alphaville then Jay-Z song. Youth is pointless if you're not hot. Dorian Gray only wanted to be young forever because he was already hot as a young person. No one wants to really live forever either. Just ask any vampire and they'll complain about having every non-vampire they know die every few decades. I'm sure it's emotionally taxing. Aging isn't the problem. You can be hot at any age. But if you were never hot to begin with, age isn't going to help. Thus, the wish for the fountain of hot.

Good Ideas

2010-10-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

I think of really good ideas all the time, but forget them all the time. Hopefully, immortalizing my genius here before I forget will make the world a better place. Here are some goodies:

Since my first menstrual cycle, I've always thought to myself, "There must be a better way! Surely, technology can eradicate this monthly horror!" So in my pre-teen brilliance, I thought of the perfect plan: period purification! With blood banks always in need of more donors and women being miserable once a month, it just seems like a win-win situation for everybody, except maybe the chocolate, feminine hygiene and underwear industries. Here's how it'd work: When a girl gets her lady time, she goes to a specialist (maybe not a doctor, perhaps a nurse practitioner) for a short visit. The specialist would use a machine, baster or something (calling on doctors and scientists to figure out logistics) to suck all the blood and what-have-you out. It'd be a short, mildly-painless procedure, like waxing. The sucked-out period ingredients would be sent to a lab for purification so that the blood could go to patients, the uterus lining could be used to make anti-aging face cream or something, and the woman could go about her business period-free. I wish modern medicine would catch up to my genius.
Twilight has a huge fan following. People are straight-up obsessed. Why not use this Twilight and vampire hysteria to help the environment? Twilight mostly takes place in a town called Forks in Washington that is known for its cloudy overcast, making it a perfect home for vampires who can walk amongst the humans in a relatively sun-free environment. Though I have my qualms with the technicalities of this scenario (please see my July 6th post), I must admit it creates a great opportunity for Hollywood to do some good. Here's how: end one Twilight movie with an intense cliffhanger that involves global climate change fucking up Forks' climate and making it so the town is no longer overcast, preventing the Cullens and their kind from showing their pale-but-eerily-beautiful faces during the day. The next film wouldn't be released until certain environmental goals were met, prompting the gaggles of Team Edward teens to take on a Save The Environment initiatives. For example, the next movie wouldn't be released until each high school and movie theater in America developed recycling and composting programs, or school to clean up the gulf most wins a visit from the cast. Like all my ideas, it's a win-win for everybody because the film franchise could have some great PR and promotions through these environmental contests, the fans would get involved with their favorite saga, and the environment would get better.
If you're like me, you hate public transportation. When I grow up for reals, I hope I never have to ride public transportation again. Buses make me nauseous from the fumes of strangers, poverty and germs. I just think they are so vile. Let me just say that if millions of me were riding the bus and trains every day, the buses and trains would not be that gross. Anyway, I think a great advertising tactic for a cleaning product company would be to clean all the buses and/or trains in one city, like San Francisco, with the product(s). Assuming the products are successful, people would be shocked and pleased by how clean the bus or train got and run to the stores in droves to buy the product. If it can clean the filth of a bus or train, imagine what it could do for someone's home! (Thanks to Karen for reminding me of this good idea.)

I had a really good idea involving hobos but I can't remember. Besides, my thoughts and ideas about the homeless could be a post in itself.

More later...

One Year Anniversary

2010-09-08T14:45:00.000-07:00

Today marks the first anniversary of my employment with GSP. Here is a pictorial recap of my year.

I've made some great friends:

worked with some great people

had some great times

gotten some sweet portraits taken

worked from a cubicle

had it taken away

moved into a work pod

brought my own lunch

bought lunch from the food trucks in our parking lot (so much food that I often carry some of it in my pocket)

traveled to experience the best of Wisconsin

gained and lost mayorship of our entire office

got the founders of my agency to sign a DVD copy of a documentary they are in (now hanging above my bed in a shadow box)

proven that I won't tolerate being fucked with in the workplace

and a bunch of other amazing things I shouldn't mention in order to protect my job and maintain some mystery.

I've lived, loved and lost (come back, Heidi and Matt). But all in all, a great year. Nobody threw me a parade like I thought but that's okay. There will be more anniversaries.

Twilight: Questions and Thoughts

2010-07-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

In regards to vampires and wolves (and the Twilight saga specifically):

What happens when girls get their periods? Do the vampires just go wild with desire? Do the female vampires get lesbian urges?
So in Breaking Dawn, Bella and Edward bone out their sexual frustrations and Bella gets pregnant. However Rosalie states that she is envious of Bella since she can do human things like have kids. If vampires are technically dead/undead, Bella shouldn't be able to get knocked up with Edward's vampire sperm. Why does vampire sperm work but not vampire eggs/uterus? The only sensical theory is that getting bitten brings on premature menopause, which only affects females and allows males to continue to spawn.
When Jacob is in human form, he's wearing denim shorts but not shirts because clothes get destroyed when he transforms. Then he shape-shifts into a huge wolf and the shorts disappear, presumably ripped apart. In Eclipse, when he gets injured as a wolf and shape-shifts back into a human, his shorts reappear. Film inaccuracy due to censorship or oversight? If his clothes magically reappear each time then he really has no excuse to be shirtless all the time, except for being so hot.
In the Twilight saga, vampires turn sparkly in the sun. In most folklore, vampires melt or are burned from sunlight. So what is it that elicits the glitter or melting or burning...sunlight? Really, it should be the UVs but if it were the UVs, the Twilight vampires couldn't go to school and such because UVs are out there even if there isn't sunlight. They should have gotten a dermatologist for consultation on this.
Edward gives Bella a ring that he says he was his mother's. He was turned into a vampire while on his deathbed during the civil war (he was a soldier). So did he carry it around with him when he was in battle? Go back to his mom's place after he became a vampire to get the ring? Rob her grave when she died? Curious.
Is Edward a virgin? He says he believes in marriage first but he doesn't seem like a virgin....in his centuries of life, he's never porked a bitch? I have trouble believing that.

Things that have been on my mind lately:

If blood tasted like tikka masala sauce, I'd be a vampire.

P.S. How excited were you by the previews? I am personally pumped for Step Up 3...D. 3D! STEP UP 3D! How amazing will that be!

GLEE CONSPIRACY THEORY

2010-06-09T20:55:00.000-07:00

This blog entry is pretty much for Gleeks only as I will be discussing my conspiracy theory regarding the season finale.

So, Vocal Adrenaline came in 1st, with Oral Intensity behind in 2nd and New Directions in 3rd.

BUT...based on what happened in the judges' room, this is the most sensical representation of the scores:

	Sue	Olivia	Josh	other guy	Total
Vocal Adrenaline	3	2	2	1	8
Oral Intensity	2	1	3	2	8
New Directions	1	3	1	3	8

The winning team should have the lowest score.

We know how Sue and Olivia Newton-John voted.

It's safe to say Josh Groban voted New Directions first and that the other guy voted Vocal Adrenaline first because of their expressed like for the respective teams.

You can assume how the two men voted for their second and third teams because if you did any other combination, New Directions would be at least second. And it's unlikely Josh Groban changed his mind about New Directions from Olivia's bitching since he didn't seem to like Olivia very much.

Therefore, this should have been a three-way tie!

My theory: there is another concurrent scoring that goes with the ranking, like how competitive speech has speaker points, that determined 1st, 2nd and 3rd. If that's the case, they should have expressed it so nerds like me who build spreadsheets to question television wouldn't have to disprove the plot. This is Glee, not Lost!

Anyway, here are some of my other comments on the Glee finale, in case anyone cares:

• Vocal Adrenaline is good. But by good, I mean Jonathan Groff is amazing and the rest of the team serves as moving props for his one-man show.

• I like New Directions' costumes more than Vocal Adrenaline's. Vocal Adrenaline's costumes were like Charlotte Russe prom so I don't get why Olivia would say that New Directions' costumes were poor-looking.

• I loved New Directions' use of Bumpits!

• I wish they went into the emotion behind Quinn's decision to give up the baby more AND went into why she would randomly give her baby to Shelby.

• Quinn gives birth on a Saturday. Back in school on Monday to sing for Mr. Schuester. Impressive.

• No closure for Jesse and Rachel?

• Kind of a lazy episode. They should have made it a two-hour finale to really flush out the stories as they deserved.

Wow. I'm a huge nerd. Is this blog entry more embarrassing than the fact that I spent $9.99 on Street Fighter IV for iPhone?

MRS degree

2010-06-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

E-mail exchange with my mother from today:

From: Mother

To: Kerissa, Katrina

Subject: Mrs degree

After talking with my colleagues, maybe you two should think about pursuing a Mrs degree.

A worried Mother.

From: Kerissa

To: Mother

CC: Katrina

Subject: Re: Mrs degree

By mrs degree do you mean a masters degree or find a husband to become a mrs?

From: Mother

To: Kerissa, Katrina

Subject: Meaning of a Mrs degree

Exactly. You never heard about it?

Now you do, keep it as an option.

From: Kerissa

To: Mother

CC: Katrina

Subject: Re: Meaning of a Mrs degree

Exactly what? Master's or Missus?

From: Mother

To: Kerissa, Katrina

Subject: A Degree to become a Mrs

Study for the master at Stanford while trying to find a phd.

___________________________________________________
The scary part is that we all turn into our parents in the end...
Mother in 1968:
Kerissa in 2009
Note: This 2009 picture was taken before discovering the 1968 picture.

Joining the circus!

2010-06-06T12:54:00.000-07:00

Today, Esther and I went to our first flying trapeze class. We have decided that the hustle and bustle of advertising is not for us; we are destined for the circus life.

Here's a taste of what you an expect when I make my Cirque du Soleil debut:

One of our instructors looked JUST like Edward Cullen (as played by Robert Pattinson in the popular Twilight movie franchise). I told him so and, just when things were going to get uncomfortable, I assured him that I'm on Team Jacob so he didn't think I was swooning over him. I am not awkward at all!

Quarter Life Crisis

2010-05-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

Graduation season. Bringing to mind the academic achievements of the past, present and future. Perhaps the first year anniversary of undergraduation. Or the faraway descent from high school glory. Or the further away departure from middle school bliss. Or maybe you've just stood on a stage in front of thousands of people to receive a rolled-up piece of card stock that is supposed to be worth the tens of thousands of dollars and countless man hours it cost.

A time of possibilities and uncertainties. Regardless of what May/June memories come to mind, this is a popular time for the onset of the dreaded Quarter Life Crisis.

I've been seeing it and borderline-feeling it a lot lately. Questions arise that we've chosen to ignore for the greater majority of the year and yet when this time of year rolls around, we can't help but mentally grade ourselves and our lives. From work (or lack thereof) to love (or lack thereof), we compare our lives against what we imagined them to be.

So how have you scored on your report card of life?

More than likely, you have a few scores that are less than satisfactory in your self-evaluation...no A's, B's, or even C's. Not even a D or an F. Maybe you've got an unfulfilling "Pass. " Or worse still, a self-deprecating "No Pass." Maybe you have a "Withdraw" or "Incomplete." Or the worst of the worst: the frustratingly maddening "In Progress."

"In Progress"..."IP". Could also stand for "I have no Phucking idea where I stand."

I've been thinking a lot of where I am and where I thought I'd be based on where I thought I wanted to be when I wasn't sure entirely of who I am. I've done many things simply so that 8th grade me would feel proud of who she'd become. But what did I know? I kept meticulously asinine journals, shopped at Claire's and tried to make the word "jiggy" happen.

In other words, I was an idiot and now I think I'm less of an idiot. So as the smarter me, I give myself a "P." I'm doing okay and I bet you are too. So quit wallowing in unemployment, panicking from uncertainty or otherwise lamenting in dissatisfaction. If your life really sucks, then do something to make it suck less.

Ergonomic

2010-03-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

As many of you may know, I work late. A lot. Many times while working late, I'm hunched over one or more laptops. Literally hunched over, leading to back pains and eye strains. Now, as fewer of you may know, I have various things medically wrong with/questionable about me:

very weak gag reflex- I've thrown up on multiple occasions from cold air and will gag when tired, chewing the same piece of gum for too long, smelling bad smells, standing in front of a fan or in windy situations, taking shots, smelling shots, thinking about bad smells, etcetera.
vulnerability to scarring and bruising- I can never be a hand or ear model because of a folding chair accident and ear piercing gone awry, respectively.
sporadic bouts of blood coughing- not Tubercolosis. The theory of one doctor was that I ruptured blood vessles in my lungs from over-exerting my lungs from activities like laughing too hard. (God's hint that I don't deserve laughter?)
scoliosis- They found it when I got a chest x-ray to check for Tuberculosis (see above). It's not the hunchback kind of scoliosis. It's the snake-ish kind. Either way, I think if I were a straight-spined person, I'd be my dream height of 5'5 and rap stars would be singing about my brown eyes (caramel complexion) and smile like the sunrise (body like heaven).
astigmatism- My eyeballs are "shaped like footballs" and no Lasik surgery will help me see significantly better.

And then there's the gaggle of psychological curiosities but that could be an entire entry so I won't even go into that. So the two maladies applicable to this story are last two on the bulleted list: scoliosis and astigmatism.

So I decided to ask Human Resources for a computer monitor as many people have them at my office and it would alleviate my eyes by having everything bigger and not make me lean in as much to see and thus relieve my back. I explained that I have a back cushion on my chair to help my back but it still hurts. I told them that I just got new glasses and my eyes aren't going to get any better. So they came to my cubicle to give me an ergonomic assessment.

It came down to two major things that were un-ergonomic about my workspace:

my chair: They took off the cushion that was intended to make the chair ergonomic because it wasn't working and came to the conclusion that I am "too small" for standard office chairs. Facilities brought a smaller chair in which I was also "too small" for. They didn't want to order me a special even smaller chair so just put the cushion back on the smaller one and gave me a footstool.
my keyboard/laptop placement: Being ergonomic looks stupid. I have a laptop stand and a keyboard that I plug in when I'm at my desk. To be ergonomic, you're supposed have your keyboard pretty much at the edge of your desk and your laptop directly behind it. It looks like all your technology is about to fall on you and feels very cramped. I told them that this wasn't a very efficient use of my space since I often deal with paperwork in conjunction with my computer work. Their solution was a document stand.

A document stand is as lame as it sounds. It's essentially a clipboard propped up at an angle. When Facilities brought it to me, I literally burst into tears from laughing so hard (luckily no blood coughing this time) from being so underwhelmed by it. My co-workers did some modifications and now I can say I have the computer monitor of my dreams.

So now my back and eyes still hurt but I get a good laugh every time I see my computer monitor/document stand. HR succeeded in making me a happier worker so no complaints here.

Side story that is slightly related: I called IT with a PowerPoint question and was told to "Google it." And Googling it solved my problem, saving me hours of work so I'm a happy worker all around!

DISCLAIMER: I'm not a disgruntled employee. I actually love work (a little too much). So co-workers, fret not. There is no need to be afraid of me coming in and shooting up the place.

you messed with the wrong bitch, bitch.

2010-01-30T20:40:00.000-08:00

One year and a day ago, someone tried to mug me.

January 29, 2009 was my last official day with WaMu as we had all gotten laid off. I was drunk from happy hour in the city with my co-workers and stumbled home to my apartment in Berkeley. I was opening the door to my building with my purse hooked on my arm at the elbow when someone grabbed my purse and pulled hard.

I turned around to face the criminal. It was a girl. A girl way bigger than me. My thoughts in that moment:

• this bitch does not deserve my Marc Jacobs bag

• the camera in my bag has a lot of pictures I want, nay, need to put on Facebook

• I just got a new driver's license after losing my old one in Vegas and I really don't want to be sober while waiting for a new one to come in the mail

But my initial observation was actually the deciding factor for my response: There is no fucking way I am going to lose shit to a woman. I'm sorry but you're going to have to be armed or a man to get my shit.

So I clamped my hands together so my purse was secured on my arms at all times. She kept pulling. Relentless. Either I was pulled to the ground or fell or tried to anchor myself. She dragged me a good six feet by the bag that was still hooked on my elbow, kicking me.

I was screaming and some passersby started shouting and running towards us. Her accomplice, who was standing by and watching, panicked and started running and soon after my would-be mugger ran off after her without any of my belongings.

The police came and to ask me what she looked like. I described her tan sweater, her jeans, her red sneakers, her husky build. I then told the officer the most accurate and helpful description I could muster:

"She actually looks just like Macy Gray."

He paused. Then radio-ed his fleet saying "she looks like Macy Gray."

They found her at the 7-11 a few blocks away within five minutes.

Every time I hear her one hit single, "I Try," I can't help but change the lyrics:

Turns out she was a minor. I'm glad I resisted because how embarrassing would it be to get mugged by a female child (regardless of her being twice my size)?

Being drunk saved me in this situation. If I were sober, I probably would have given her my stuff because of the pain from her tugging on my arm and dragging me and kicking me. As I sobered up that night, my shoulder, neck, back and arms became so sore.

Here are some of my battle wounds (I swear they were worse in person):

I was debating about whether or not to tell my parents because I didn't want them to worry but turns out I was the one worrying over nothing. I called my mom and this is exactly how the conversation went:

Me: Mom, someone tried to mug me last night.

Mom: Wha? Mug?

Me: You know, attacked me to steal my purse.

Mom: Hold on; I have another call. [puts me on hold for a few minutes before the call is disconnected/she hangs up on me.]

I called back later (she seemed to have forgotten she was on the phone with me) and all she asked was, "But she didn't get anything, right? Let me know so I can cancel your credit card."

I think this was a character-building experience. In one job interview, someone asked me to "tell [them] about [my]self." I responded, "I am always true to myself and what I believe in. Example: one time someone tried to mug me and I resisted. I don't support crime." Answers like that may or may not have been the reason why it took me so long to find a job.

UPDATE 2/25/10:

HOLY SHIT. THIS IS AN ACTUAL SCREEN GRAB FROM MACY GRAY'S MYSPACE:

SHE'S COMING FOR ME. SO SCARED.

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-22T13:43:00.001-08:00

It's not enough that they declared my name to be spelled and pronounced in a manner that defies the English language's phonetic rules, leading to over 22 years of being called the wrong name, often by people I see on a regular basis over long periods of time. They had to go and confuse people by spelling my name incorrectly on a holiday card.

I don't know how many times I've explained, "It's actually Kerissa. It doesn't make phonetic sense. My mom's an immigrant and a non-native English speaker." Or told people "Theresa with a K" to help them remember or just answered to something sort of close to my name after giving up on the person ever learning my name.

Anyway, twenty years later: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

"Calm down."

2009-12-21T19:39:00.000-08:00

This is probably one of the phrases I hate most. It's up there with "you're crazy." (You say I'm crazy? I GOT YOUR CRAZY!)

Has anyone else noticed that telling someone to "calm down" (or its lazy cousin, "chill") has the opposite effect? I feel like using those words are grounds for instant irate. If there are such things as fighting words, these are definitely an instance.

People usually use it when they don't want to hear what the other person is saying. Users of the phrase are usually the ones who also pull the equally-agitating "just because it's your time of the month..." card.

Such phrases are even worse when you are not uncalm/unchill. It's as if those words just trigger something rebellious in the brain, like "CALM DOWN? I MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT!" Like, if I wasn't pissed before, I sure as fuck am now!

Honestly, people. Is this seriously how you envision the scenario playing out??

50% of my loyal readers (so, 1 of all 2 of them) will tell me to calm down in the future as a joke.

All By Myself

2009-12-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Just got home from work after stopping at the market.

Which is the saddest?:

The young man ringing me up didn't card me for my handle of vodka.
I was buying a handle of vodka for myself, along with dinner for one.
I just referred to someone my age as "young man."

I was hungry and pleased with myself for picking a nutritious dinner (spaghetti with tomato sauce and a bloody mary with celery stick garnish). I was eager to finish cooking/eating so I could put on my leopard-print Snuggie, crawl into bed, and watch my programs. But I could not for the life of me open the damn jar of pasta sauce. It then hit me: I can't be alone or I really will die alone (out of starvation).

After a five minute battle with the jar (and four minutes of contemplating asking my chain-smoking neighbor, who I passive aggressively cuss at each time I unlock my door, for help), I finally got it open but the feeling of neediness still resonates.

I can't just go through my life, waiting for the next Bridget Jones movie to come along while simultaneously acting out her lonesome life. Or can I? I am actually happy wallowing in my own spinsterhood. Since I have a Snuggie, I don't need anyone to keep me warm at night and, truth be told, I don't like sharing a bed because I don't like sharing covers (I didn't even like sleepovers when I was little for that same reason). And from now on, I can just get the young man at the register to open my jars for me, take them home, and immediately use or refrigerate the contents for near future use.

Side note: Someone recently told me to enjoy my twenties because "it just keeps getting better." I'd like to know what "it" is since it is certainly not my metabolism. I already feel like an old lady, and not just because last week I said, "I'd totally go to jail for him" in reference to 17- year-old Taylor Lautner of Twilight fame. Yet at the same time, he makes me feel like a hormonal, giddy teenage girl. I'm pretty sure he's the One.

The only reason I'm holding onto any vestige of youth is because my first reaction to not getting carded was to Tweet/text about it. I feel like a real old person would just call someone the good-old fashioned way to complain. Or file a complaint with the store.

Bella Swan ain't got shit on me.

To all you Asian girls with wishful thinking: the girl he is fantasizing about is me.

I don't care if we "all look alike."

Beginning of the end.

2009-11-19T22:43:00.000-08:00

My descent into the absence of youth has begun...I am 22. This is going to be a long blog so brace yourself.

Big thanks to the contributors of the best birthday ever:

Club One Fitness Center: Thanks, gym, for calling me on my birthday to remind me that you "haven't seen [me] in a while and just want to see if there's anything wrong." Aside from the fact that I've only been there once since I joined your gym 2 months ago so it's very unlikely you ever saw me, it was a kind gesture to point on my birthday that I haven't worked out enough to be inconspicuous in your records.
Daddy/Sister: Katrina came up last weekend and brought up a card she had bought for our dad to sign for me. Here is his brief but heartfelt birthday message:

Yes, that does say "Sherwin 2009."

After my sister called to tell him to call me, my dad called me to wish me a happy birthday. When I asked him what he was doing, he replied, "Oh, I'm just on the toilet and I thought of you."

Mom: Not to be outdone, my mother also had Katrina bring something up for me, though it wasn't for my birthday so much as her maternal heart extending love with a thoughtful gift....an opened package of "donkey-hide gelatin flavor candied dates:"

Aw, you shouldn't have, Mom. Really milking the giving me the gift of life thing. Her birthday treat almost makes up for her forgetting my birthday. Don't worry. She remembered around 4pm, after sending me 3 unrelated emails. My aunt (who had mailed me a sweet birthday card) reminded her. She then sent me a birthday text. When I called her on my birthday to thank her for giving birth to me (though I always associate c-section with laziness because of her), she told me she "just forgot today but thought about it yesterday."

Hometown Buffet: I think they somehow know they knew it was my birthday. On top of the expected deliciousness, they had installed that very week a BRAND NEW ICEE MACHINE. 3 flavors (red, blue, and Coke) of perfectly blended ICEE-brand icees....Each cup yielded a cold delight with flawless consistency. The staff was so sweet, too. Especially Lucila, who remembered us from last time and led the restaurant in a rousing performance of the Hometown Buffet birthday song and treated me to a piece of cake from the dessert bar. And of course my good friends came and enjoyed the yum. Best birthday dinner ever.

Emo photo shoot at HB.

I somehow managed to grow an extra chin from the sheer excitement of the food possibilities.

Notice the perfectly blended ICEE in front of me.

Jumping for joy...hip hip hooray for Hometown Buffet!

My GSP team: I had to work from 7:30am to 10pm on my actual birthday but I couldn't have been happier! My team is amazing and celebrated my birthday despite our busy night. They let me pick the ethnicity for dinner, brought champagne & cupcakes, and gave me a card! I'm really lucky to have such great people to work with.
Others: Thanks to the people who joined me at my Hometown Buffet dinner, wrote on my wall, gave me cards, bought me a drink, or what have you. Love you!

Birthdays are a time when people look at what their lives are and look back on what it took for them to get there. I don't think I've ever been happy in the way that normal people are happy. I think I've always had a content-with-my-ups-and-downs-with-a-humorous-emphasis-on-the-downs way of looking at life. My metabolism may be a downwards spiral, but I think this is the happiest/mentally-healthiest I've ever been!

21 vs. 22

Looking back just one year, I've grown so much. Last year, I was doing the splits all over casino floors in Las Vegas, wearing a shirt as a dress, screaming that I was a child star and puking on myself and my 8th grade crush in a taxi. This year, I had a modest Hometown Buffet birthday dinner celebration and worked a 60 hour week. Too much maturity to handle!

Despite the sneaking suspicion that UC Berkeley made me fugs (I was tanner, skinnier, and prettier whilst at UCSB...those Norcal liberals rubbed their aesthetic laziness on me!) that has led to my jealousy of my 18 year old self, I can honestly say I'm happier than I was 4 years ago. And I guess that's the best consolation older, fatter people can hope for so I'm grateful.

Cereal Killer

2009-11-17T20:50:00.000-08:00

Totally made a mess in my cubicle today when I knocked over my just-opened box of cereal whilst trying to offer a neighbor some. There was a lot more than pictured but I scooped a good amount up by hand.

This happened at 9:55 am. We called facilities to have someone vacuum it pretty much immediately. I guess the cleaning lady hates me because she never came. So all day, I just stepped/rolled around (in my chair) in my own Honey Bunches of Oats filth. I felt like a caged hamster.

People kept asking if one of the dogs had made a mess in my cube... I guess I have the clumsiness/cleanliness of an animal. More embarrassing than that time I got in a heated phone conversation with my mother at work and some girl came over to shush me by mouthing "you need to tone it down."

Still at work. Feeling like I'm on the brink of the threshold for getting sick... I think I'm just paranoid because I shook a hobo's hand Friday night. He told me it was his birthday! But I suspect he was lying since he refused to tell me what his zodiac sign is. (Scorpio, obvi.)

On a lighter note, tomorrow is Hometown Buffet time!

A Rarity: an awkward moment that wasn't self-created...

2009-11-12T21:24:00.000-08:00

I feel like a lot of the time when I recount my experiences, people think I am exaggerating, embellishing or otherwise making things up. Or that my awkwardness begets awkwardness so the ridiculosity of my life is self-inflicted. What happened today, I couldn't even make up and in no way contrived.

So I'm sitting in the middle of a group of cubicles at work today, waiting for someone to arrive so we could work on a project. His cubicle neighbors, a guy and a girl whom I don't know very well, were already there so we were just chatting while I waited. Out of NO WHERE, the girl says, "I have something really awkward to ask you...Are you pregnant?"

How do you even respond to that when you are a) not pregnant, b) haven't given anyone any reason to believe that you are, and c) don't know the person who asked you if you are pregnant very well? Also, the guy sitting with us was kind of in shock, too...probably from the terrible uncomfortableness of the situation.

I responded with a "Uh...no. I guess I'm just fat."

She then went into how she overheard someone say that I knew where to order baby things online and then yesterday I was complaining about bad blood circulation from sitting on the ground...both leading her to the conclusion that I am pregnant.

MY EXPLANATION: First, someone asked me yesterday about where to buy baby things because I threw a baby shower last month for my account director. Second, I had to stop sitting on the ground because it was cutting off circulation to my legs and they were falling asleep....not because I was concerned that it was cutting off the blood supply to the supposed baby I'm carrying.

She then tells me that she was shocked when she thought I was pregnant because I "look 12" and so she thought my (non-existent) "husband must be a pedophile or something."

The situation was exacerbated by the fact that I was stressed out from staying at work until 12:30 the night before, dealing with a million phone calls, having problems with my email, and having to crank out some projects within a short time frame.

AND THEN the button in the stomach part of my shirt popped open and I thought I was about to cry. This was the week I designated as my first gym week. I'm getting older (turning 22 next week) so I was going to start working out. Just so happens that this is the busiest I've been at work and so my gym bag is in my cubicle, just hanging on my coat hook.

I guess it also struck a nerve because my dad told me 2 months ago that he got my fortune told by a really good Chinese fortune teller when I was born and the prophecy says I'm going to have my first child between 2010 and 2011 (meaning I need to be celibate or a lesbian for the next two years, just in case). He followed up with a "Sometimes you just have to get married...if you know what I mean." So glad my dad has so much faith in my fertility/faith in the chivalry of my potential baby daddies.

If Hometown Buffet is wrong, I don't want to be right.

2009-11-05T10:39:00.000-08:00

I just had one of the most pleasurable dining experiences of my life. Last night, 3 friends and I embarked on a culinary journey... to Pinole, CA. We drove out of the city and over the Bay Bridge for half an hour to experience the all-you-can-eat delights of Hometown Buffet (you may also know the popular buffet chain as Old Country or Country Buffet).

The four of us FEASTED for about $26 total (approximately $6.50 each; we had two 2-for-1 coupons from joining the e-club) and I think I can speak for all of us when I say we would have paid full price for that delicious meal. (Though with the existence of the coupon, why should we?)

You're probably thinking: "Whadja get?" which is incidentally the Hometown Buffet slogan. Well, let me tell you what we got!

sirloin steak - tasty, especially with delicious A1 sauce!
macaroni 'n cheese - mind-blowing.
spaghetti - meat sauce & marinara sauce as options? Don't spoil me!
fried chicken - I've had better... but I've also had worse! Louisiana hot sauce was conveniently stationed at our booth.
mashed potatoes and gravy - fluffy carb goodness.
meatloaf - ketchup built in!
Caesar salad - tossed to perfection.
red jello - bouncy artificially-flavored pleasure... with some whipped topping from the dessert section...amazing!
shrimp penne w/ cream sauce - garlicky love hugging al dente pasta.
fresh cut pineapple - sweet and ripe!
cream of broccoli soup - the buffet's only disappointment.*
potato wedges -can't go wrong!
peach cobbler, cookies, ice cream, cheese cake, cinnamon apples, bread pudding - yummy yummy in our tummies!
all-you-can-drink soda fountain - FANTA! CHERRY COKE! You had me at 'all-you-can-drink'!
BUT THE WINNING DISH OF THE NIGHT: CORN BREAD DRESSING! - I cannot begin to tell you nor can your senses even begin to fathom how orgasmic the corn bread stuffing was, especially with the beef gravy drizzled on top. I think I got some on all five of my plates.

*I was actually relieved that the soup was bad. Otherwise, this surreal experience would have been too good to be true!

I was expecting crappy to mediocre food so imagine my joyful surprise when this turned out to be one of the best meals I have ever had. It was better than the buffet at the Wynn in Las Vegas! And just like in Vegas, I found myself having to go to the bathroom mid-meal to make room for more deliciousness, if you know what I mean.

Even the service was great! My friend Andrew left a handsome tip for the waitress with the wrist guard who took good care of us.

This experience begs the question: Does Hometown Buffet cater weddings? Unfortunately, the answer is probably no BUT I really want to go back to Hometown Buffet to celebrate my birthday in two weeks. No joke. AND there's a Dollar Tree in the same shopping plaza so I can go buy random crap for cheap to make it the best birthday ever.

Totally worth $6.50 per person, gas, and the $4 toll to get back into the city. I can't wait to go back for my birthday dinner! I should be a spokesperson for Hometown Buffet.

I'm homesick.... for Hometown Buffet!

No pants for me, thanks.

2009-11-01T15:09:00.001-08:00

This Halloween, I was a champion. Here I am going for the gold:

Totally nailed that landing.

I wasn't just a champ in the sense that I was dressed an underage Chinese gold medal gymnast. I was a winner in my own right: I won a costume contest. I went to a party at the Westin and won the ladies portion... HUNDRED DOLLA BILL, YA'LL!

It was cool. Afterwards, people came up to me to take pictures with me and tell me how amazing I am (as if I didn't already know). I feel like this is how my life should be. Mildly joking.

This was the first time I was heckled by old Asian women. I think they would have given me a 9.9:

Most girls go about costume contests the wrong way. They incorrectly think that slutty is the Halloween trump card. In the wise words of my work bestie Jasmine: "Funny is the new slutty." Gone are the days where you can win a costume contest by displaying a lot of skin and awkwardly dancing around like a whore in a pathetic attempt to elicit applause. You need to make it a performance. That's why I cartwheeled onstage into a splits. From there I did a move I got from a Pussycat Dolls music video where you booty bounce whilst doing a splits. It's a real crowd pleaser.

But becoming a champion doesn't just happen. A lot went into my big win.

I'd like to think to that I have an "in it to win it" personality. I'm really intense in whatever I do. Halloween is no exception. Perhaps it's the residual UCSB girl in me but I don't like to half-ass this particular holiday. Like all stories with great endings, this Halloween tale had a lot of highs and lows:

I turned my cubicle into my personal sweatshop and slaved for hours sewing sequins, metallic gold stars, and crushed yellow velvet onto a leotard. Sequins are a bitch.
Jasmine and I were going to dress up as underage Chinese gymnasts* for GSP's costume contest (but we were going to wear shorts...I don't think they could have handled my leggage anyway). Unfortunately, we couldn't bedazzle our leotards in time but I suspect we would have killed.
I lost my costume. The morning of Halloween, I had no idea where it was. It fell out of my purse sometime during my Friday night adventure. I made fruitless calls to a bar, a restaurant and MUNI. To no avail. I kept my hope alive and backtracked my night. It was at the bar. Good thing too because I probably would have cried.
I was really debating the no-pants thing. I feel like I'm getting too old to trot around with bare legs. After all, I am turning 22 in a few weeks. But then I thought that Lady Gaga and Beyonce do it and I'm just as big a diva as they are. And then I thought that to do China justice, I had to be a true to life representation as much as possible. Though there are major inaccuracies in my portrayal of underage gymnasts, like:

I don't weigh 75 pounds. Though in my defense, I (unsuccessfully) tried to be anorexic for the week before. (There were free cupcakes at work twice this week.)
I didn't do the Chinese gymnast hair. You know, ponytail held up by a gaudy scrunchie and flyaway hairs clipped down with multi-colored barrettes.
I didn't do the Chinese gymnast make-up. I don't own blue eye shadow or eye glitter.
I wore panty hose.
I wore heels.
To my knowledge, Chinese gymnasts don't drink, eat, or gyrate. I find myself guilty on all three counts.

I am now super bruised and sore. I always say that if you're not sore the day after, you didn't dance hard enough. Also doing the splits while intoxicated when you can't do it sober anymore contributes greatly to that soreness. Heels don't help either. I could totally use these right now:

As for the bruising, it was all because of the splits. All those mid-

splits booty bounces really took a toll on my knee:

Random thought: I don't think you should be able to win a costume contest with a store bought costume. If you're going to be lazy about it, don't expect people to marvel at you. If you have a clever store bought costume, I'd be impressed with the company that made it and only mildly impressed with your selecting skills.

*Thanks for saving me from costume mediocrity, Jasmine. You're a genius. Giving me an excuse to not wear pants while repping the mainland? Perfection. To think...I was going to be Single Ladies Beyonce! How uninspired. Now I'm stuck with a pack of Bumpits that make me look dumb.

I love Columbus Day!

2009-10-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

I have the day off! So nice. I woke up "late" (though I hardly consider 10:30 to be late...I remember in my younger days, i.e. a few months ago, I could sleep until 2pm...), uploaded some pictures to Facebook, took a shower, made a sandwich, ate it, and danced around in my room. What a great day. Thanks, Columbus!

Yesterday was super fun. Karen and I went grocery shopping. I, as usual, got overzealous in my purchases though I attribute it to my shopping hungry. We miraculously were able to haul my crap up some really steep hills to my apartment, saving a whole $5 in taxi fare in the process. We are both terribly sore in the shoulders this morning. Sorry, Karen. And thanks!

Then I slaved in the kitchen for an hour making lunch for Karen and me but she bailed on me. I'd say we're even now, Karen! Luckily, Jess came over to enjoy my meal but by that time, everything was overcooked and dry. Sorry, Jess. You're a trooper.

Then Shawn came over and we spent 3.5 hours baking and decorating sugar cookies. Dough and frosting FROM SCRATCH! So tasty. Cookie cutting is actually really, really difficult. We went to a Japanese restaurant for a snack and then went to an adorably white trash bar (they sell jell-o shots and tater tots) for karaoke. I got drunk and sang my usual song. All in all, a great weekend.

Here are the fruits of our labor:

We heart Cal.

Though it hurts our hearts when Cal football loses....

but we love booze too and it makes our hearts hurt less.

On October 17, the Bruins will get owned by real California Bears, so yay!

Wise words from 2 wise women...

2009-10-02T20:18:00.001-07:00

A day after sending me 6 e-mails containing nothing but pictures of herself, my mother sent me another digital nugget of comedy/motherly gold. For those of you who don't know the legend that is my mother, the following e-mail may seem like an outlier on a grid of her maternal abilities. Below is actually really indicative of how she is. I think my ridiculousness and narcissism are matched (if not exceeded) only by hers.

This is straight up copy-pasted e-mail (but italicized and selectively bolded) from my #1 fan:

Dear Kerissa:

I saw the viedo last night with your sister, and watching it again. I can not believe you care for your ethnic background enough to produce this music production; it is great. The concepual design, the filming and the choice of location were all great. However, your singing is much to be desired; your sister said the only singing talent in the family is (unfortunately ) your mother.

Mom

________________________________________________________

This is a post on Twitter made by Disney superstar, Miley Cyrus:

mileycyrus Watching Pocahontas.... AGAIN. I'm just saying I wouldn't let John Smith just leave. I would definitely be on that ship back to London.

I have a feeling that, with a single Tweet, Miley Cyrus has just single-handedly created the next generation of needy women.

Now usually I feel like Miley can do no wrong, but she's completely off on this one. Did anyone else get the impression that John Smith was kind of a cocky bastard? He sang about wanting adventure but America proved to be too much adventure for him to handle and he just hopped his gimp ass onto the next boat back to England. Maybe if he didn't have such a dumb haircut.

And let's not even ignore the obvious: Kocoum > John Smith.

If you had the choice between a crippled foreigner and a handsome sturdy husband who builds handsome sturdy walls, wouldn't you pick the latter?

Don't agree that Kocoum was the better catch? You're probably just racist.

Above all, I am a STAR!

2009-09-29T20:37:00.000-07:00

The inevitable has happened. My transition from child star to world renowned blogger to international diva has begun.

In honor of the 60th anniversary of my beloved People's Republic of China, I have not only recorded my debut single, but put together an accompanying video (though it was made in a bit of haste). You can also watch it on YouTube. Lyrics below.

Note: Some knowledge of Mandarin Chinese is necessary for fully understanding my work, but not required to enjoy it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRC!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCjbKm89azI

Lyrics:

I get off the boat and I’m in beijing
with renmingbi and my sandals
welcome to the land of fake purses,
am I gonna get robbed?

Jumped in the cab,
And we swerve into traffic
Look to the right and see a family on a scooter
This is all so scary
everything smells like mothballs

My head’s hurting and I think I’m gonna be sick
Think those dumplings made me nauseous
That's when the taxi man turned on the radio
and a Jay Chou song was on
and the Jay Chou song was on
and the Jay Chou song was on

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song,
I learned this at KTV
Noddin’ my head like dui
Movin my hips like dui
I got my hands up,
They’re playin my song
I know im gonna be ok
Dui, It's a party in the PRC
Dui, It's a party in the PRC

Get to the club in my taxi cab
Everybody's lookin at me now
Like “ni kan ne ge nushen chuan tuo xie
Ta dang ran shi mei guo ren.” ["Look at that girl in flipflops; she's definitely American."]

So hard with Chinese people all around me
I look like everyone else at the party
all I see are zhong guo ren
there’s no diversification

My head’s hurting and I think I’m gonna be sick
Think those dumplings made me nauseous
That’s when the DJ man put on my favorite track
and an fei wang song was on
and the fei wang song was on
and the fei wang song was on

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song,
I learned this at KTV
Noddin’ my head like dui
Movin my hips like dui
I got my hands up,
They’re playin my song
I know im gonna be ok
Dui, It's a party in the PRC
Dui, It's a party in the PRC

Wo you yi dian pa da lu (pa da lu) [I'm a little afraid of China]
hen xiang hui chu mei guo (chu mei guo) [really thinking about going back to the US]
ke shi wo ting dao na ying yue (na ying yue) [but i hear that music]
zhong guo ren dou ai cang ge [all Chinese people love to sing]

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song,
I learned this at KTV
Noddin’ my head like dui
Movin my hips like dui
I got my hands up,
They’re playin my song
I know im gonna be ok
Dui, It's a party in the PRC
Dui, It's a party in the PRC

CHORUS:
So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song,
I learned this at KTV
Noddin’ my head like dui
Movin my hips like dui
I got my hands up,
They’re playin my song
I know im gonna be ok
Dui, It's a party in the PRC
Dui, It's a party in the PRC

Song Credits:

Lead Vocals: Kerissa

Background Vocals: Kerissa, Miley Cyrus

Lyrics: Kerissa

Producers: Christian Wheel, Kerissa

Music: Lukasz Gottwald, Claude Kelly, Jessica Cornish

Inspiration: China (the People's Republic of)

Music Video Credits:

Starring: Kerissa

With Appearances By: the good people of San Francisco Chinatown

Choreography: Kerissa

Directors: Kerissa, Eric Chen

Producer: Kerissa

I am also an artist.

2009-09-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

The case of the stolen stapler turned out to be an absolute ORDEAL spanning over several days. I found out who the culprit was though I won't go into the details. Just know that I connived my black Swingline back and it is now in the SPP (Staplers Protection Program) until I feel it is safe to take it out of hiding.

My former WaManager (that's WaMu Manager for you non-WaMulians), the lovely JM, ever protective of her WaMinion (figure it out), empathized with me during the horrendous stapler debacle (to be referred to henceforth as "Staplergate"). She bought me a HUGE and heavy red stapler that is so distinct that no one would dare steal it. It can staple up to 25 sheets! I didn't think that was possible! Thanks, Jessica!

Anyway, for those of you who think I am overreacting, I just want to say that today a lady in my agency sent out an email to the ENTIRE company (that's 500+ people) asking for whoever borrowed her stapler to return it. I AM NOT ALONE. Some people are just sensitive about their staplers.

Check out my new slippers (actually "Slipper Genies")! (It took me so many shots to take this with PhotoBooth because I couldn't aim it right and just got a whole bunch of pervish pictures of my bare legs.)

They have a moppy bottom so you clean the floors while you walk! Hardwood floors are a bitch and always make my feet dirty. This is such a perfect solution because I keep my feet clean while cleaning the floor! The only downside is that now I just drag my feet and moonwalk all over the apartment so I might develop worse walking habits than I have now and ruin the soles of all my shoes more. I guess that's the price I'll pay for clean feet/floors. They have hippos on them because I had to get kids' sized ones on account of my feet being so small. They're totally cuter than the adult ones but sadly they didn't cost less. I got them at Sur la Table, one of my fave stores. I walk into that place and feel like I need EVERYTHING. Besides these baller slippers, I got some cookie cutters (varying in shape from handsaw to ballerina), a new baking pan, tongs, and a grater. I just feel more complete.

I threw up for the second time in San Francisco (for first time, see September 7th entry). Second of many vomits, I'm sure. I was tending to my wasted friend and holding the bag he was throwing up in. Trying to not watch him puke into the bag, I tried to avert my eyes elsewhere and ended up just seeing the rest of his vomit that he had puked moments earlier all over his bed. I saw a distinctive chunk and asked him calmly if he had eaten a banana that day. He nodded and I gagged and he passed the bag for my temporary use. I gratefully accepted and threw up in his bag of vomit. It's actually a blessing in disguise. 2 hours before, I had eaten a donut (for the second night in a row) so my throw-up tasted like maple and I'm not as fat. It was actually one of my more pleasant vomit experiences.

I downloaded a program for my Macbook that's the equivalent of Microsoft paint, aka one of my favorite programs of all time. Totally under-appreciated...like me.

I'll leave you with some of my recent works. If you would like to commission or model for a piece, contact me. I'm always looking for a new muse.

I am a grown up.

2009-09-15T22:32:00.000-07:00

I have gone to work 6 times. I walk. I don't feel skinnier but I also don't feel my calves getting huge. A draw.

I like my team and office but in general, white/non-Asian people in large doses kind of make me nervous. I blame the media for what is likely my inferiority complex (or San Marino/UC Berkeley for their lack of racial diversity). I'm also super awkward (which is exacerbated by nerves) and tend to suffer from verbal diarrhea. I somehow managed to work the phrase "marital rape" into a conversation.

My cubicle is spacious but not adequate yet in terms of decor and supplies; I don't even have a stapler.* I wish they sold cubicle decorating kits. Nothing fancy, just essentials like a pen cup and coat hook.

Beer is available in all beverage-dispensing vending machines; they are cheaper than the sodas.

People can bring their dogs into work. I pretty much share my cube with a Bernese Mountain dog puppy. His name is Cooper and he knows how to high five. He also farts with his butt pointed at me. I think he's trying to frame me for gas. I am often light-headed from his toxic farts. But I love him.

I got my first paycheck. Damn Social Security!

I missed a FREE Alanis Morissette concert this past weekend at Golden Gate Park. One word: DEVASTATED.

*Yesterday, my stapler was "borrowed" by a mysterious thief and has yet to be returned. I know, I know. It's just a stapler. But that stapler meant a lot to me. I was great friends with the facilities guys at my last place of employment and they gave me a brand new black Swingline. It was a symbol of my time there, a metaphor for keeping my life together. I'm falling apart without it.

Ironic. The stapler I stole got stolen from me. Karma is a bitch.

first week!

2009-09-07T11:11:00.000-07:00

I just woke up refreshed from an amazing night's sleep thanks to my good buddy Ambien. Sleeping-wise, it's been a frustrating past few nights because I can't have a natural Nob Hill knock-out despite my exhaustion. I was just getting sort of used to the whole loud cable car commotion when I got woken up this weekend by the sound of some Latino man on a loudspeaker of some open-air tour bus outside my window babbling about the Bay Bridge.

Living in SF is fun, random and exciting.

got into an Al Green concert for free and watched the show from the sound/light booth after befriending some of the extremely nice and polite crew.
ate a whole bunch of $1 oysters and drank $2.50 Stellas at a great happy hour.
took iced tea infused shots at some shady bar that tasted like burning.
got the runs several times, mostly from ridiculously cheap Chinese food. (When will I learn!?)
got yelled at by a variety of street folk.
rode BART drunk.

Living in SF is also tiring and expensive. Apparently having a social life is also exhausting and costly. I'm really lucky to have so many Berkeley/San Marino people around to go out with. In the past week, we've gone to a lot of bad/good bars/restaurants.

I realized this week that I for sure can't drink as much as I did in high school and that the Smart Kids are now bigger boozers than I could ever be. I guess I can no longer say "My IQ may be lower than yours but not my BAC!" I feel like I'm a more refined and mature human being now.

Nob Hill is super hilly and windy, which equates to death for a lazy gag-hag like me. I am sore all over my body, literally from head to toe, from just walking around. Anyone who has walked outdoors with me knows that cold wind makes me gag. Last night I was walking home up a particularly vicious hill and was gagging up a storm and threw up a little bit. No biggie, just some corn my body wouldn't properly digest anyway.

Food around here is okay. My new favorite restaurant is "New Woey Loy Goey Restaurant" in Chinatown. Way better than Nob Hill's "Sun Kwong." Planning on trying "Dick Lee's Pastry" next which advertises all you can eat dim sum for $5.99! With names and prices like that, how can they be bad?

It appears that all my dreams are coming true. First, two of my favorite things collided. Britney Spears did a cover of Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know." Amazing times a million. Second, I start my job tomorrow! So excited and nervous to start work! I hope I don't show my awkward right off the bat. I never thought this day would come! I kind of feel like it's a mirage!

Plan for the day: eating lunch, chilling in Chinatown with my fellow Chinese people, pedicures, and grocery shopping in a ZipCar!

P.S. I know I promised some great blog entries in my pre-employment week but apparently all the things I had in mind are grounds for my losing the job I haven't even started yet. I had made a very artistic non-pornographic video and when I showed people I was told I should take it down immediately. :( Maybe one day the world will be ready.

I'm a San Franciscan now!

2009-09-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

Last night I flew from Long Beach to San Francisco. Mid-air, I realized I didn't have my cellphone and must have left it at the gate in Long Beach. Some nice guy on the plane tried to help me find it (to no avail) and gave me a ride home (which was really fortunate because I thought I'd get robbed riding public transit and/or walking. If I saw me hauling luggage up a hill, I'd mug me). Luckily the nice people at JetBlue in Long Beach are going to FedEx my phone to me. Yay. I still feel naked without it even though no one really calls/texts me anyway. Thanks, Katrina, for dealing with my phone debacle.

Big thanks to "Auspicious Moving Corp." You have to love and appreciate the amazing names Chinese people give their businesses. My favorite is "OK Cafe." It was a very telling name for that place.

After several hours of unpacking (with a short break just to cook and eat an instant ramen), I finished setting up my room!

I was starving and didn't want to eat ramen twice in a day (I only do that when I eat one and want another for the same meal). I went to 2 different crappy-ass mini-marts. Here's a list of my purchases: 2-liter bottle of Sprite, peanut butter, hot cocoa, 6 eggs, 2 frozen pizzas, and a cookie ice cream sandwich. I had to eat the cookiewich while my pizza baked in the oven because I was starving. Turns out the pizza's "best by" date was over 3 months ago. Good thing I was full from my cookiewich so I only ate half of the pizza. I have been having really good luck lately!

Turns out, cable cars run until 1 am. Then it's a silent heaven around these parts. But that joy is short-lived. The cable cars start up again at 5 am. Don't let their jolly appearance fool you. They are loud, annoying little fuckers.

There is a street light that gives my room an orange glow all through the night. Also I think the pillows I bought are too fluffy. My neck hurts. Perhaps my neck is just not accustomed to all that support. Looks like I won't be breaking up with Ambien any time soon!

Come visit me if I like and miss you.

Examples of people I like and miss:

Me, myself, and I

2009-08-29T01:56:00.001-07:00

During my 8 hour bus ride, I was left to my own devices. Just me and my thoughts. So of course genius (that is bound to go unappreciated by everyone in the world but me) ensued.

Josh Ma's blog is way cooler than mine so I'm going to step up my blogging game. I have some great things planned for all four of you readers out there. I expect to have a lot of down time in the next week so you can anticipate some real nuggets of narcissistic ridiculosity to be posted.

Sitting on the China bus really wasn't bad, which led to some self questioning...What would I be doing if I wasn't on the bus? And the truth is probably the same damn thing I was doing on the bus: sitting around thinking up ridiculous things except I'd be stationary. I really don't do much. I chill in front of my computer. I don't even talk to others (or rather, they don't talk to me. WOMP!). I look up and memorize lyrics to lesbionic songs. I sing karaoke online and try to beat my own (and Eric's) scores. I play really addicting, super-Asian games.

I almost feel like I'd be less embarrassed if I was just masturbating all the live long day because then there'd be some point to all my self-entertaining. The reality of my solo activities involves no self-diddling. Just giggling at the dumb jokes I make in conversations with myself and maybe some intense practicing of facial expressions in front of a mirror. I am really vain for someone who probably has mild body dysmorphia.

To do list #1: Get a life.

And since the topic has come up, I just wanted to take the time to say "SUCK IT!" to Eric because these karaokeparty.com scores clearly prove that I am the true diva. The screenshot is small but you can see that I beat him in "My Heart Will Go On" and "Memory."

Putting Asian labor to good use.

2009-08-26T14:49:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I'm going to take an 8-hour fob bus from Oakland Chinatown to Monterey Park so I can go back to San Marino and pack up my life. Monday afternoon, some immigrant workers will show up and load my things into a moving truck and meet me at my new apartment in San Francisco the next morning and unload my belongings from the truck to my apartment. Yay for stimulating the (Asian-)American economy.

I'll have to unpack and make my own bed though.

This whole making-less-than-it-costs-to-keep-me-alive thing, combined with finding-a-place-to-live-with-no-money thing, has made me really appreciate my mom. She drives me crazy but I need her to coordinate things with Asian workers and to help me as I get my life together financially. So thanks Mommy! (I didn't even call her Mother this time!)

I'm living in Nob Hill with a nice girl who I'm pretty sure won't steal my kidneys. It's a small room but if anything, that should make me eat less so I can make my space feel bigger. It's a 10 minute walk downhill to work (16 minutes uphill back home) with my gym on the way!

Cable cars pass by my bay window all the time which I'm sure will piss me off once the novelty wears off. I was eating spaghetti with Josh and I was twirling individual strands of pasta around my fork (to make my meal last longer and trick my stomach into thinking it's full) and realized the circular scraping noise that forks make when grinding against a plate is exactly what those cable cars sound like, with an occasional ding ding! Whatever; I'll deal! I just realized how much I love onomatopoeias. I wish I could communicate solely with them. Logistics for that are TBD.

Now I that I don't have to worry about much, I can focus on being excited to start working! No sarcasm intended either! I can't wait to set up my cubicle! Oh and seeing the office's supply closet the first time! I'll get that feeling little kids get when they open presents on Christmas day!

I got a really annoying haircut last week. What would you do if someone told you they wanted to grow out their hair and thus only wanted a trim of like half an inch tops? If you were the dumb ho cutting my hair you would hack off 2 inches with nonsensical layers. Way to set me back 6 months of hair-growing, you skank.

I haven't cried from a haircut in, like, 8 years but I did give her the stink-eye when she wasn't looking. I used to cry every time I got my haircut because they'd ALWAYS mess up my bangs, which I'm very particular about.

I want to grow it out so I can have long pretty hair like Nicole Scherzinger or hair I had 4 years ago:

Please disregard the Asian pose. Look how skinny my arm was.

So I'll be in SM from Thursday through Monday if anyone wants to hang out with me. No pressure. I'm only moving indefinitely to SF.

Homeless.

2009-08-24T00:43:00.000-07:00

Apartment hunting is hard and stressful... especially when you're picky, paranoid, and poor.

I'm sort of afraid to live with someone off Craigslist because they might try to steal my kidneys or plant cameras in my room and stream it onto the internet.

So if anyone normal wants to live with me in either SOMA, North Beach, Nob Hill, Lower Nob Hill, Pacific Heights, Lower Pacific Heights, or Russian Hill, let me know.

Getting my crap up here will be another debacle. But, I am still very grateful to have the woes of the employed.

I'm excited to start working but I don't think I really grasp the working part of it. When I imagine myself at work, I'm doing things like organizing my cubicle, chatting inappropriately with friends, and walking around the office waving to friends I haven't made yet.

As a congratulatory treat to myself, I bought a cordless straightener to keep in my cube so tamed bangs will always be within reach.

BEST 24 HOURS EVER!

2009-08-20T14:10:00.000-07:00

First, my orgasmic night with Tracy Chapman (No, it's not what you think...or is it? READ ON!). Eric and I spent the day learning all but two of her songs ("Fast Car" and "Give Me One Reason," which EVERYONE should already know), loving the lesbian novelty of it all. But we discovered that every single one her songs is pretty much amazing. We took a studying break to do happy hour at Cabo Cantina where they have 2 for 1 Patron margaritas!

We left buzzed and I arrived wasted at the Wiltern. Sure enough, we were the youngest, Asianest, and straightest people there. So glad I wore my Crocs to fit in with the butch crowd. While Eric went outside to smoke a cigarette and get a drink, I passed out on a bench. Then we went upstairs where I proceeded to "need to sit" on some steps before stumbling over to a trash can. I then threw up my day in front of a line of aghast lesbians waiting for their own alcoholic drinks. Puking before the party even really begins? What am I? 16 again? And why is my vomit always pink when I eat guacamole?!

We went to our seats in anticipation of the great Tracy Chapman. I had puke in my hair but couldn't bear to go to the bathroom in fear of missing any portion of her performance. TOTALLY WORTH IT.

I didn't think it was possible but she is even better live than in her recordings. Her silky smooth voice is so soft yet so powerful. She changed guitars at least 14 times in addition to her playing some seated washboard type thing and some bongos (intermittently with some guitar action) ALL while singing! That bitch can rock out! Her dreads looked so good! Breathtaking, really.

I thought I had lost all my marbles when she sang "Fast Car" but then she hit us with "Give Me One Reason" and I really lost it! I'm not worthy!

Eric successfully pissed off at least 3 groups of people (either butch lesbians or men) with his annoying cheering and loud singing to the point where they moved seats to get away from him. Tracy was so amazing that I couldn't even blame him for his enthusiasm. How does she only have 4 Grammys?

After, we went to McDonald's for $1 fudge sundaes topped with Oreo crumbles. At an extra 17 cents, you'd be foolish not to get that special addition!

Sorry if you read on only because I entrapped you with the possibility of lesbian experimentation. I just wanted to expose you a little to the wonderful world of Tracy Chapman.

Today, I woke up around noon because I had nothing and no one to wake up for. I ate leftovers my mom brought home because unemployed people like me don't deserve to eat what we like. I had a popsicle. Read the joke on the stick. (What has 3 feet but can't walk?...A yard stick.) Watercolored a birthday card for my aunt. Tried to teach myself math out of a book until my head hurt 20 minutes later. Downloaded some songs. Bathed.

And then I received the most amazing e-mail ever from the ad agency of my fantasies saying they would hire me!

I AM EMPLOYED, YA'LL. I'm not just a washed-up failed child star anymore! I'm a part of the best ad agency, making less than I did working as an intern BUT I'll be working on an account for a great client (as opposed to paper junk mail for home loans promotions)!

I also get membership to a gym as part of my employment so thinness is in my future as well! I think I kind of threw off the HR manager a bit because I printed out, filled out, and faxed over the offer agreement in a matter of minutes. I didn't want them to change their minds! It's like I HAD to get rejected by all those other places I didn't even want to work for just so I could end up where I'm supposed to be! Alanis would say that it's so ironic! (Even though she doesn't really use that word correctly in the context of that wondrous song.)

I'm going up to Berkeley tomorrow to look for apartments in San Francisco. I am so happy, I won't complain about all the other things that I find wrong with the world for at least the next 24 hours.

My life as a thinner, employed human being is just beginning!

Glory Days

2009-08-19T00:25:00.000-07:00

This is my first headshot. Ah, to return to the good old days when I could get a job. It's been all downhill from the moment captured in this photo. I don't even look cute without bangs anymore. Opting out of a promising career in game show appearances and ethnic commercials to focus on my education is a quasi-fair trade, I guess.

(I don't have a scanner and don't know how to reverse the image so sorry about the picture quality!)

Currently training myself on the hits of Tracy Chapman. The concert is tonight and I need to get tickets AND learn all the songs, aside from the classics "Fast Car" and "Give Me One Reason." I think this will be a great teaser/prep for Lilith Fair 2010.

Clarification Memo

2009-08-18T11:51:00.001-07:00

I never intended to and never will use my blog for the purposes of emo evils. This is kind of my attempt to exert all my ridiculous ideas so that they won't carry over in my day to day so much and I can lead some semblance of normalcy. Also, I have reason to believe that the people I talk to most are generally uninterested in 90% of what I have to say and I tend to repeat my boring tidbits. This gives them the luxury of taking in my (often nonsensical) stories at their convenience (if they read it at all).

I've made some changes to past entries to make them as nice and innocuous as possible as I don't want to offend anyone with my silly blog (which actually presented a challenge considering I'm a generally offensive person). I take my blog very non-seriously and expected people to do the same, which I guess was my fault. I'm not saying that I'm never serious but I'm definitely not the type to put my deepest darkest feelings on the internet. In fact, this is probably as serious as I'll ever be on here and I'm not even trying to be that serious.

And for the record, if you suspect something in here is about you, stop suspecting because it's not about you. It's probably about me because all blogs are narcissistic in nature and, clearly, mine is no exception.

Other than that, nothing but thanks to all three of my readers.

There goes my side business.

2009-08-13T18:57:00.000-07:00

Google has disabled my AdSense account because I am a "risk to [their] advertisers." I'm embarrassed about getting banned but mostly saddened for several reasons. First, I had generated over $150 that I'll never see. Second, what am I supposed to do now that I can't profit track? Third, how will I know what's wrong with me without Google generating ads about anorexia, anxiety, and weight loss treatment based off my content? Fourth, I don't have a trick for getting people to my blog anymore because I know people aren't here to see what I'm up to! Finally, the true tragedy of it all is that my loyal readers won't be exposed to websites that can help them (or help them help me) with their (or my) mental health issues.

I need to get my face in check. I keep doing involuntary facial expressions that are really unattractive. Mostly it's in the shroud of darkness or when no one is looking but I'm pretty sure they trickle over into my everyday collection of facial expressions. I had a similar problem a few years ago when I couldn't stop doing the Paige face frown.

Paige is probably going to kill me for putting this picture up (from 4 years ago) but she probably doesn't read my blog so until she takes enough of an interest in my life, it'll be here! Haha. (This is my sick cry for renewed closeness with her!)

Sometimes I don't think I'm meant to socially interact because other people lead to unwarranted drama and emo-ness that I just won't entertain. Also, I'm so contented with being alone (though I wish I had a puppy or a baby). I think the key to my successful relationship with myself is humor. My jokes are always funny to me.

On a lighter note, I'm done with antibiotics for my teeth so I won't have to wake myself up at 6 am to make sure my gums don't get infected.

TOO MUCH EXCITEMENT TO HANDLE!

2009-08-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

I drove to Berkeley from Sacramento yesterday (and missed out on a night of Dungeons & Dragons with my nephew as a result) and spent the night on a lovely couch (Thanks, Phil!) so I could wake up early for interviews at the agency of my dreams this morning. I had a great time with the nice people I met and was being myself (which I realize may very well hurt me more than it will get me hired). So I hope they think me hireable (hint hint, Darren) because I've been fantasizing (platonically...mostly) about this place for years and would be saddened to have messed up my opportunity with something as silly as my personality.

Minor glitch (because you know I had to do something foolish and embarrassing): I got a band-aid from reception and put it on my heel before my first interview because I was blistering (damn my never-satisfied feet). By the end of the first interview, it was gone. I really hope it didn't fall in that nice man's office. (You promised not to hold blog details against me, Darren!)

I suspect that my sister-in-law and brother think I need to get out more and fear for my impending spinsterhood. I guess I should have half-expected this sort of thing since the last time I was even remotely pursued by a male is either the time the an old street vendor in France ran his fingers through my hair or the time some guy told me I reminded him of the girl kids in elementary school used to call "Weird Horse Girl."

And I got a new Marc Jacobs purse!

My mouth hurts.

2009-08-07T19:27:00.001-07:00

I look like Rumer Willis with my swollen jaw.

Vicodin makes me nauseated to the point where I throw up. And not in the good, I-feel-so-skinny-after kind of way.

Today I finally summoned the strength to bathe.

I didn't get my much-wanted rocket-shaped Firecracker popsicles but my sister did get me Scribblers.

I apparently bore people with all my thoughts (COUGH, M.P.) so I'm keeping this post short.

I can't feel my brain.

2009-08-05T18:11:00.000-07:00

I just got all four of my wisdom teeth pulled out. I feel like I got a good deal because my dentist was like an oral surgeon and comedian in one:

"I have to warn you that your teeth are very close to your nerves so you may lose all sensation in that part of your mouth so it's up to you if you want to go forward with extracting them. But you don't really have a choice because you need to take them out."
(referring to my tooth) "It's coming out...It's a boy! Haha, just kidding."
"Let me wipe your tears." (Proceeds to do so with my bib.)
"Don't be alarmed but there's some exposed bone popping out on one side. So be careful!"
(In response to my asking if I'd get drugs) "What do you want, cocaine or something?" (And, yes. He did give me drugs.)
"Don't move...I might break your jaw."

There was more but the Novocaine has me feeling like my brain is fuzzy. I also have the strong desire to cry for no reason after it was over but that may be because I'm a pansy. My doctor very patiently tolerated my screaming, crying, and gagging.

My mom didn't want to drop me off at home before getting my painkillers so I had to go with her to CVS and wait the 20 minutes for my prescription to be filled. The pharmacists laughed at me with their smirky smirks, just because I have bloodied fabric in my mouth and they "can't understand" me.

I tried changing my mouth gauze and was getting really concerned because I couldn't pull it out. Then I realized I was tugging on my chap bottom lip. Then I had to take my antibiotics and my Vicodin in front of a mirror. I got blood and spit all over myself, trickling down my neck and all over my shirt, because I can't feel my mouth. I basically just took two huge pills with blood, saliva and some Arrowhead as chaser.

Justin is true friend and took some screen shots of me while I was crying from my emotional Novocained state:

And it's always a good time for some Asian poses!

My sister promised to come home with the popsicles that are shaped like rockets that I really want so here's hoping she pulls through because don't they just look so tasty?

In case she sees this before going to the market and the market is out of those, I will also accept Itzakadoozies though I rank them second because of the time at Disneyland I got my tongue stuck to one because it was so cold and no one believed me until they ripped it off and saw a piece of my bloodied tongue flesh on the popsicle:

I want to take a nap but I'm afraid I'll choke on my gauze or on my own numb tongue in my sleep.

On the bright side, my face doesn't really look puffed up because I already have a fat face. According to my best friend's brother, I look like I got my wisdom teeth pulled out yesterday everyday. And maybe from not eating solids, I'll lose weight!

The Good Life

2009-08-01T12:54:00.001-07:00

This is what you do when you don't have a job:

-Start a blog that leads to suspicions of eating disorders, depression, low self-esteem, etc.

Even Google covered my blog in eating disorder help ads. I am flattered by the concern but I just want everyone to know I'm not anorexic, depressed, or insecure. Just discontented and disheartened by life. I appreciate the messages I got though! If this were a cry for help, I'd be so glad to have people like you reading my emo blog.

-Hit up the local gay bar.

I went to a gay bar of the Asian persuasion the other night. I'd like to think that out of the 8 females there, I was in the top 3 most attractive (natural) females. Let's face it; I can't compete with the trannies and their longer legs and toned build.

There was some Asian male adult film star there and though I am not personally familiar with his work, I was told that he specializes in pornography of the gay variety. Regret of the night: not asking, "Are you gay in real life or do you just play one on TV?" But I guess he's probably not on TV unless people hook up their computers to a larger screen. I'm probably nit-picking.

I'm a big fan/friend of the gays but usually they intimidate me in situations of dance. However, this was, according to the club's marketing, "gay Asian paradise" so I feel like the caliber of dancing wasn't as high as the gay status quo. I was dancing up a storm with two other straight girls in one corner of the club and made the gays so uncomfortable/disgusted with our gyration that they cleared the area. I think I may have turned some gays even gayer, if that's even possible.

This experience exposed me to a brilliant business plan: hot dog stands outside the gay club! It's genius. It is fairly safe to assume that most of the gay club's clientele is after some form of wiener. When they are unsuccessful in the club, they can purchase one wrapped in bacon outside! The idea I got from this: fish taco stands outside lesbian bars! It only makes sense. Maybe Choco Tacos for the hot summer nights. My friend's friend already thought of an absolutely perfect name for such a business: Va-diner!

I'm crude but serious.

-Live on someone's couch.

Big thanks to my friend James for extending his living room to me and for the juice I drank.

Living on someone's couch isn't as glamorous as you would think. Last night some couple had a big fight because she "has all the power" in the relationship but according to her she "[doesn't] even want the power!" Translation: her boyfriend needs to man up. Perhaps grow a pair?

I also awoke to find that my face had been attacked by some insects:

They really went to town on my face. What's really great is that tomorrow I have an informational interview with the place I'd want to work at more than any other place and I get to roll in looking like I belong in a leper colony rather than their agency. This picture is actually more flattering than the way the huge swell that used to be my face is now. You know your face is bad when the guy at Walgreens asks, "What happened to your face?"

-Reconnect with friends.

Today I webcammed with a friend. He's not far or anything. In fact, we're from the same town and drove up 6 hours to Berkeley together and have hung out whilst in Norcal. But we had a grand 'ol time webcamming. I even took some screenshots:

It's a nice ego boost to catch them when they're playing around with Macbook Effects and unsuspecting of screenshots and then posting the pictures on the internet so you're cuter by comparison

Notice my strategic and flattering use of sepia.

-Get around to doing things you've always meant to do.
I'm making great use of all the time I have from not having a job, boyfriend, friends, hobbies, etcetera.
I downloaded songs through some shady ass Chinese website.
I studied the music videos of Beyonce and Shakira.
I tried (and proceed to fail) to replicate the dance moves seen in aforementioned music videos.
I attempted to teach myself the Hoedown Throwdown from the acclaimed film, The Hannah Montana Movie.
I started making my own hair accessories. (Hit me up if you would like a headband. I'm going to venture into barrettes very soon!)
I caught up on all the shows I love that no one else watches.

-And most importantly, dream a little dream.

When I was little I wanted to be one of three things: an Egyptologist, an SNL cast member, and I can't remember the third. Sometimes I can't help but feel I let younger me down. But you can't think like that. I'm so thankful that I'm off doing better things than finding tombs and getting famous. I'm making my own hair accessories, writing my own blog, and dreaming bigger dreams.

My latest dream is to go to Harvard Law and become a distinguished lawyer like Ally McBeal. Girls who want to go to Harvard Law and become a distinguished lawyer because of Elle Woods are dumb. I am a woman of substance. I recently started watching Ally McBeal from episode 1, seven years after its cancellation. That Vonda Shepard should have been the voice of our generation.

As you can see, I've just been so busy. Good thing I didn't have a job to keep me from all this.

I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled on Wednesday so I expect my next entry to be while I'm high on Vicodin. Keep your fingers crossed!

And in the meantime, please click my ads and refresh my blog.

Jealous much?

2009-07-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

Here's what I have going for me:

-I am unemployed.

Why won't anyone hire me? I feel I do an all right job masking my ridiculousness for the short time it takes to interview. I rock the business casual. I'm not completely socially inept. What is wrong with me (within the context of employment, not in general)?

What is even more concerning than my unhireability is people's response to my telling them I am unemployed.

"That's okay. Ten percent of Americans are unemployed."

Um, that's your consolation? 1 in 3 Americans is overweight. Would you tell me that little statistic if I said I'm fat? Thank you for the reminder that I am part of the bottom ten percent of American society. I did not work (moderately) hard at one of the top 25 universities in America (and not even #25, mind you) to end up being the (un)chosen one out of every ten United States citizens who can't find a job.

-I'm essentially training myself for a life of loneliness.

I recently got addicted to this stupid Nintendo DS game intended for ages 3+ called "Secret Flirts."

You start off as this fat, ugly chick with braces and you need to study, work out, make money, and beautify until guys talk to you. Only two guys will talk to you at a time and others will tell you you are not intelligent, popular, or pretty enough for them. Eventually you get skinnier, prettier, and presumably more intelligent, and one by one they dump you the day after you kiss them and you spend the remainder of the day you got dumped crying in bed. Then you go off to build a relationship with the next guy by flattering and buying gifts for him.

So in a period of 2 days, I got dumped by 8 guys who were total asses to me and whom I didn't want to date in the first place and for stupid reasons like how he needed time to focus on online gaming or he was leaving to film a reality show. It was exhausting and surprisingly emotionally taxing. I then realized that my short-lived romantic experience with these virtual douches was more successful than my real love life.

What's sadder is that I am content playing bootlegged DS games and would prefer to do that rather than going out and socializing. It's like I'm destined for spinster-dom. Saddest part of all? I'm allergic to cats so I will truly be alone.

P.S. The game forced me to settle down with Noah, the rocker with dreads who initially told me I was not popular enough for him. Lucky me.

-I live at home with my senile parents.

Two nights ago my 85 year old dad yelled at me because he couldn't access his online banking and it was somehow my fault. His wireless was turned off.

Five days ago I was feeling ill and foolishly went to my mom for maternal comfort. While rubbing my back, she told me she was massaging my hips extra hard so the fat would go away.

-I don't even have a car to escape the insanity of the people who conceived me.

Once upon a time I was living the dream as the proud owner of a Chrysler Sebring. Living the dream no more.

-I am 15 pounds over my target weight of 95 pounds.

Spanx don't even make me look skinny. I wish I had the discipline to adopt a healthy lifestyle or the determination to catch anorexia.

On a lighter note, you can follow me on Twitter! Ha-ha. http://twitter.com/_kerissa