Halloween 2007

C0mcast and I… we are on the verge of a break-up. I’m sure my account is flagged as PAIN IN THE ASS CUSTOMER. But what am I supposed to do without a connection? READ or something?

Anyway…

Costumes. This is part of what I’ve been working on lately. Maybe I should thank Crapcast for not letting me get online so that I had time to finish this thing.

It was a little over my head, but I got it done — finally. And it’s nothing I want to ever attempt again. Let me just tell you: Bean had her own little sweatshop going on here.

To see more of the twins’ costumes (and to see past ridiculous costumes) click here to go to my Parenting post.

I’ve made their costumes in the past, but this year I only made Bean’s. I’m slowly weaning myself. Next year hopefully they will both choose to be some commercialized character that comes with its own itchy polyester manufactured costume. The most I will have to do is rip open a package.

I tried to avoid the making of the costume. I searched and searched for a Hello Kitty costume. Called our local Sanrio store. Looked everywhere online. Oh — there are Hello Kitty costumes. Weird ones:
What kind of scary Hello Kitty is that? I’m not even sure what is going on. Those pants are thick heavy fur. The headdress alone was enough to give me nightmares. That is so not a Japanese-made costume.

Then there was this one… I mentally measured Bean’s head and considered getting this for her, then contemplated sewing a similar costume, but G thought this cat looked nothing like Hello Kitty. And if a WHITE CAT can’t pull this off, well…

I could have gone this route, but C-Diddy, Air Guitar Champion of 2003, is really the only one who can rock the Hello Kitty breastplate. Okay, okay… I didn’t really consider putting a breastplate on Bean, but I went to high school with C-Diddy so I’m putting a little plug in for him and his movie.

There were plastic masks on ebay, similar to the ones we wore as kids. Remember? When Halloween costumes came in flimsy boxes with cellophane covers, and the masks had sharp edges that always scratched up your face? I couldn’t bear to put that on Bean either.

Plus, I like to make things difficult for myself. So sculpt (and sand, paint, repeat) I did.

The day before Halloween, their teacher handed me a slip of paper with instructions for the party the next day. Number three on the list? No masks or weapons please.

Perfect.

Gratuitous Pics

Some pictures of the twins since moving here (mostly contributed by Awesome SIL. I’m surrounded by great SILs, I know):

*edited to remove most pictures to fend off creepiness

At Dad’s office:

When Bean first started talking, she would say, “I wub” instead of “I love.”

Bean & Buddy: I wub.

::::::::

Speaking of SILs, FingKASIL’s birthday was yesterday. Happy Birthday FingKASIL! The Caboose’s birthday was two days ago. Happy Birthday Caboose! We miss you guys. And we wub.

happy 02.20

[spoken in the voices of bean & buddy who speak in the voice of band camp girl in american pie]

TO G:
remember… our wedding?
remember… tribeca?remember… my mom and dad walking me down the aisle to you?remember… granddad serenading us from above?
remember… token wedding druncle?remember… the sg?
remember… the caves?remember… seven years ago?

if you answered yes to any of these questions — good. because i hardly remember, and by the time we’ve hit anniversary #15, i have a feeling that you’ll have to remind me again and again who the hell you are. but for now, i remember who you are. and how much i love you. even when you drive me fucking crazy. and i know i drive you fucking crazy. you and our family are everything to me. true, sometimes i want to run away. but then i remember that night, and remember how i felt: exhausted. but happy.

lest i express it any differently with my actions, i still feel that way today. so nothing has really changed. okay, maybe we're more boring. (but we know that’s not really the case. because you know that i’m all kinds of crazy, thank you very much. deep down i think you love it… no?)

thank you for taking care of me. and taking care of our family. for never being the good cop to my bad cop, like i thought you might be. you proved me wrong there. thank you for making me be good cop sometimes. i know you do. and i don’t even have to ask.

thank you for being so great that my friends love you (at least they tell me they do. but if they’re lying, that’s okay because sometimes i think your friends love me too). thank you for being such a great person that my family loves you too, and for missing my mom almost as much as i do. thank you for introducing me to the wonderful people who make up your family. thank you for never putting on any kind of act for anyone. and thank you for not being the kind of person that i would have to ask that of anyway.

thank you for all those nights (pre-kids and maybe even a few (?) times after) you let me get so drunk and never got embarrassed — even when I was biting everyone with love. thank you for allowing me my bottle-rocket nights, and having fun right along with me, just half an hour into the party. and thank you for sleeping in the hall on the floor with me. rock on. you took my contacts out for me and we never looked back. that’s freakin’ true wub.

thank you for coming home every day of the work week, asking me if i want some wine, and pointing me upstairs for the rest of the night. thank you for understanding that i need a break. and thank you for never making me feel bad about it.

thank you for being funny in that nerdy kind of way that i love, and nerdy in that funny kind of way that i love. thank you for being clark kent and superman at the same time. because you know i like me some clark kent and superman split-personality. thank you for loving football and baseball almost as much as you love hugh grant movies. you’re so totally corny. thank you for being hot like that, and also giving me ammunition with which to make fun of you.

when i look in the mirror and ask you, “do you ever look at me and say, ‘wow, she’s so asian!,’” thank you for looking totally dumbfounded that i would even ask such a supremely idiotic question and then for taking me quite seriously, going on to explain why, no, you just look at me and see me. because honestly, you had me at dumbfounded look.

thank you for waking me up every morning to say good-bye, even though i know you hate doing this. but i have issues, so thank you. thank you for living with my insanity, and moreover, going about our lives, pretending like i’m quite sane. thank you for being my cuckoo-enabler. as crazy as i am, don’t think i don’t notice this.

thank you for being foolish enough to marry me seven years ago. because we all know that you are a silly man and a little bit of a fool. but that’s okay. you’re quite a catch so i’m taking full advantage of this foolishness, even if i kind of think you are quite stupid for it. but sometimes your feet do smell and i don’t care if you don’t think they do; you might be superman but my nose is super-sonic straight-up and i can smell that shit clear through new jersey. seriously.

regardless, i wub.
happy 02.20.

Sae-heh-bok Mah-nee Pah-doh-say-yo

A few years ago, our Korean dry cleaner (sounds horribly stereotypical and it is, but they were awesome) taught G how to say ‘Happy New Year’ in Korean. G asked this poor man to say it over and over again as he wrote it down phonetically on a dry cleaning receipt. He kept this piece of paper in his car for months. He practiced it all the time. It cracked me up. (This may sound like he should be classified as one of those ‘ew’ guys, but he isn’t. I think he liked the idea of learning something totally random, and when I mean random, I mean he was trying to learn something that sounded difficult and impressive so he could boast not about knowing it, but that he had learned it.)

About a year later, we were in NYC at my friend’s incredible New-Year’s-Millennium-Per-The-Gregorian-Calendar-Party (R, do you think I'll ever forget a party name like that? Seriously one of the best parties). G and I were chatting with a Korean friend of ours. Suddenly, G was inspired and decided to let loose with his bad self. “Sae-heh-bok mah-nee pah-doh-say-yo!” After her initial surprise, our friend quickly opened her purse, retrieved a dollar and threw it at him as she rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to bow you know, but I’ll let it go.” LOVE you, E (even though I know you don’t read this).

I loved the look on G’s face. Money for speaking Korean? He had heard about it in near-mythical terms, when my cousins and I talked about all the money we ‘made’ at Christmas and New Year’s; knew about the gift of giving money — hell, he DID open half of the envelopes from our wedding guests himself. But this was new, and he was taken aback. And I watched as the surprise in his eyes was taken over by amusement. And then, the light bulb appeared: How much fucking money can I make from this? Can I take it on the road? Hit all the Koreatowns across the nation? Shit, I think I've found my calling! (In his naive defense, we were pretty smashed by then.)

Sorry, G. This is not a strip club holiday; you won’t get money tucked in your shirt pocket with your performances. And as much as my family loves you, the big white man coming in and bowing is not quite the same.

As much as this makes me laugh, I wish we had done more for this holiday. I wish I knew more about Korean holidays, other than the financial and culinary aspects of them. I love the Internet — especially the world of blogs — because I love hearing about other people’s memories and how they celebrate them. Where would I be without you, blog friends?

To everyone out there, 새해 복 많이 받으세요!
Now show me the money.

V Day Recap

Our V Day wasn’t a complete wash just because of my bad attitude. I sucked it up and made G one of his favorite meals for dinner (in my cynical defense, I love a good filet mignon as well), and then we cozied up on the couch to watch Friday Night Lights. Don’t faint from the romance, people.

[during a commercial]
G: Is this the best show on tv right now or what?
Me: Mmmm... it’s definitely one of the best. [pause] I would totally have a threesome with Coach Taylor and his wife.
G: WHAT?? What about me? Where the hell am I?
Me: [pointing to television] DUH — you’re watching us on tv!

On a separate but related note… I know I’m getting old when I’m drooling over the coach and not the young football players. Oh Lord but Coach Taylor is hot. And he and his wife — GREAT together. If I was blond, totally cool, and southern, I would want to be them. Alas, I’m Asian, dorky (because only dorks think TV characters are real), and very NOT southern. (I’m also all talk. I’m not really the porn star I make myself out to be, as evidenced by the dorkiness.)

To G:

We both know that I’m normally a V’s Day cynic, but something came over me and I filmed this just for you. Because the stars shine for you and everything you do and shit, it’s no secret we’re all yellow just for you too.

But don’t make me say, “Happy -- Day.” For fuck’s sake you silly man, I will only go so far.

dailymotion halfmama