The View From UP Here.... makes me feel like I'm 5 FEET TALL!

Have I told you I'm 4'8? I'm sure I have, but just in case you didn't know. I'm 4'8. I have small Filipino parents who then made extra small me. I'm the winner of the short girl Olympics or at least I'm definitely on the podium stand during the awards ceremony. Even if you've never seen me dear reader, you would know better than to let me drive something like this:


Really, you would only need to see my stats on paper and a picture of this truck and be like 'oh no, that fourth grader is NOT driving that vehicle.' But clearly someone has to tell my husband because he is under the delusion that I'm a statuesque supermodel. (well let's just tell him I'm short, we don't want to ruin the supermodel glasses he has on.)

A couple months ago, I turned into a restaurant and curbed our truck, which I do often because what the hey, that's the joy of having a lifted truck right? Jumping the curb and running over cats! Good times! It wouldn't have been a big deal had there not been a short metal pole sticking out of the curb that rammed right into the tire, denting the wheel and causing me to get a flat. If you asked me how I could have made such an error I would have blamed my two stereotypes (Asian. Woman driver) before I blame the fact that I'm the size of a tall toddler and the blind sides on this truck is massive to me. In fact, when you're disturbingly petite such as I, there's even blind sides when driving a grocery cart:

My view from the grocery cart when the car seat is on it. "Dear
shoppers, please watch out for the midget pushing a cart blindly on aisle 6."

Quite frankly, as large as our truck is, I'm surprised I haven't ran into more short stumpy poles.

But enough about my ex-boyfriend's junk..... (ba dum dum).

The tire was jacked and since the rest of the tires were worn out anyways, we decided to go ahead and replace all four. And replace them my husband did.... ..with even BIGGER tires and wheels! ("They were on sale honey!") Sigh. The step sides have been raised almost to my chest so that I have to basically do the lateral splits to even get into damn thing. There are absolutely no skirts in my future if I'm riding in that truck unless I want to advertise the kitty kat to the neighbors or have my husband physically lift me into the car, which is an idea I'm mulling around in my head at this very moment. He owes me a couple of favors after his giant (bargain!) wheels.

I don't even want to tell you how I get my daughter's car seat in there because one day, someone will videotape me at a random Target parking lot doing a squat, pull and military press to get the baby seat inside. Then you can see it for yourself on Youtube because it's definitely not something to be written about as much as it is something to behold.

The practical side of me is making list after list at all the problems the bigger tires are going to throw at me; HOWEVER, the Napoleon complex side had about five mini orgasms just climbing into the front seat. When my view of the world is usually at armpit level, the view of sedan tops from the driver's seat of this truck is pretty awesome (that is if I ignore the fear stricken faces of the people INSIDE the sedans.) And really, after I get in, the adjustable pedals (they move UP to meet my tiny feet) and the very adjustable seat (which moves up, down, front, back, tilts and tap dances) makes it easier to drive than you would think.

The good news is I'm getting another car in the near future that will not require me to don mountain climbing equipment just to get in it. Meanwhile, if you happen to see a black lifted truck appearing to be driven by no one, look closer and you'll probably see me drunk with monster truck power behind the wheel.

Just make sure you step away from the curb and hide your cats.

CLOSE UP ... I'd poke you with my unicorn horn, which I later discover to be a really huge boil and my dreams of being magic is dashed.

CLOSE UP.... you'll see that my skin is the stuff of legends and myths. Seriously. You would find it hard NOT to lick me because I look like I'm made of smooth hard candy. But then you'd back up because I'd be all whispering, "come on, lick me, you know you want to!" which would freak you the fuck out. Then later, whenever we would hang, there would be this weird awkwardness in the air that no amount of small talk can get rid of and eventually we stop talking.

So yeah, I have really good skin.

CLOSE UP.... I'm more than unreasonably scared about 2012. You can blame the History Channel's uplifting documentaries like "Nostradamus 2012," "Decoding The Past:Doomsday 2012." Rays of sunshine those guys at the History Channel. I've been waiting for God to return my calls so we can discuss this whole thing, but it's been kind of awkward between us as of late..(he got to looking close at my magical skin too and well... you've read what I do when that happens.)

CLOSE UP... you'll see my lips moving because I talk to the voices constantly. They don't like awkward silences like...ever.

CLOSE UP.... I'm almost positive that you would be able to smell the bullshit and day old pomade emanating from Shia Labeouf. I don't understand how this guy is successful in Hollywood. He's ALMOST good looking, he's ALMOST a good actor, he's ALMOST got a good body...so CLOSE and yet so far away that it's in another galaxy. Either he is really talented and I'm just crazy OR he has some kind of godlike talent agent that shits Spielberg scripts.

CLOSE UP.... my nose would probably hit your armpit. Remind me never to get too close to Shaquille O'Neal because I think we all know where my nose could hit. "Hmmm smells like boiled mushrooms... Damn Shaquille back up! I want to see where that smell is coming from!"

CLOSE UP.... you'd see that if it wasn't for the awesomeness of tweezers, my eyebrows would look like two small cats sleeping on my brow.

CLOSE UP.... isn't good when you've got halitosis. Do people KNOW when they have halitosis? From my experience, that doesn't seem to be the case. In fact, they're the FIRST motherfuckers to come up to you and start having a conversation in your mouth. And if you happen to have a drink nearby you can bet their toxic blowhole has already taken it upon themselves to have a complimentary sip.

CLOSE UP... you'll see that Jessica Alba is made of wood that's been varnished with boring.

CLOSE UP... you would discover that everything you've ever seen in an infomercial has taken up residence in my closet or garage.

CLOSE UP... the innards of the atom looks a lot like space which begs the question...what if our space is actually part of an atom which is part of some guy's mustache pores? I think you might need some funny brownies to appreciate this question I'm pondering.

CLOSE UP... you'd probably see condoms and spare change inside Mario Lopez's dimples.

CLOSE UP... is the only way I can see words and signs. Please don't let that and the fact that I'm your stereotypical Asian female driver make you in any way nervous to be my passenger, just in the off chance that one horribly unlucky day, having broken both your legs, you need a ride from me because I'm the only one left on earth. (take a breath. phew. what a run-on) Anyways, that's really probably the only time you should ever get into a vehicle with me... when there's no other options.

CLOSE UP... Jessica and Ashley Simpson smell like Joe Simpson. Obviously.

You Complete Me. A love letter to Pillsbury.

Dear Pillsbury "Funfetti" cake mix,

I will never forget that moment last week when you caught my eye. So festive, so joyful with the doughboy promising everlasting yumminess in your blue and rainbow colored box that glistened under the Target halogen lights. I was going to walk right past you for what did I need cake mix for? There was no birthday to be had, no special event in the near future to warrant a cake and I'm not much of a cooker/baker anyway. Even the simplest of baking tasks (like a cake in a box) can turn into a shriveled black coal in my cooking disabled hands. Children have weeped and ran away in fear from past baked monstrosities goodies that had the misfortune to have been created by me. There was absolutely no reason that our paths should cross.

But it did. And I was drawn like a magnet, curious as to what' funfetti' meant in the context of a cake. As I got closer, I saw that you were just a simple cake mix with some sprinkles thrown in. How could a simple thing like cake mix with sprinkles in it possibly live up to the promise of glee, celebration and happiness that your box shouted at me from across the room? It couldn't! And yet there I was, picking you up and including you with my other basket of goodies that was the reason I had visited Target in the first place. (Madonna CD/DVD of course).

Still unimpressed, I let you sit in the cupboard for three days and almost forgot about you until my sweet tooth kicked in. Let's see what that cake has to offer I thought, making you as an afterthought as I chatted away on the phone. It was at this point that I saw a recipe for Funfetti cookies on the side of the box and on a whim, I decided to do cookies instead because it only required two eggs, a 1/3 cup of oil and a steady mixing hand. Even THAT I could do and the 1 and a half steps it required to make the cookies appealed to my laziness when it comes to cooking. (oh who am I kidding, it appealed to my laziness period.)

Eight minutes later you were done. Two minutes later I experienced you.
(gotta let that bitch cool. Many a taste buds have been sacrificed due to my inability to grasp this concept in the past.)

And......OH.....My......GOD.

Cake mix with sprinkles!!! So simple and yet GENIUS on my taste buds!!! How could I have ever doubted you? How could I have questioned the marketing execs at Pillsbury? If Pillsbury promises ecstasy and one million orgasms in a box then by God they deliver!! I'm a believer Pillsbury! I am a believer!

I was a fool. I'm sorry. Please accept my apologies. I hope to have more wonderful times together, even if half the time it is my husband who prepares you, just remember, it is I that loves you most.

Til' we meet again on aisle 6, sweet sweet funfetti dreams.

Your admirer, lover, and newfound addict,

Me.

I Gets My Read On Yo.

Things called books.

I'm pretty damn sure I blogged about my favorite books before but damn, my blog topics are on EMPTY right now. I got nothin. I'm working and occasionally sleeping, I make room for bowel movements and such, I play with the munchkin during the day and with viking hubby at night. Nothing exciting.

Plus, that last post drained all of my energy. Apologies to all for exposing you to that.
Me + Boredom + Webcam = Topless dancing!
Just kidding. You'd have to add vodka to that equation to get that. But thanks for giving me the idea Hootch.

Anyways, back to the subject..books. The first in portable entertainment, never needs batteries and if you get a NEW book, it smells so delicious. (I sniff books dude. There is no rehab for book sniffing so I'm on my own. I blame Scholastic for this. I remember their books had this glossy goodness about them. AHHHH. What I'd give for a brand new copy of Clifford The Big Red Dog right now. Okay. I'll stop.)

Ok, this list of books are those that in one way or another affected me, I'll re-read or just plain smelled good....

Some old book...
A tattered old used book I bought at a library fair in Kansas when I was but a wee F.O.B. at the tender age of 7. I forgot the title but it was a biography on Abraham Lincoln. The reason I bought the book? It had an illustrated picture of what was supposed to be a young Abe Lincoln., wearing overalls, chewin' on a straw, leaning on a pitchfork or something. I thought it looked very American so I bought it, plus it was cheap. That book helped me tremendously with my English and I do remember liking the book a lot because coming from another country, reading about people who grew up in the country in the U.S. was so fascinating.

Are You There God It's Me Margaret?
Yes, yes, blah blah, she's going through changes, becoming a woman and what not and it was a really nice book to have when you're that age and going through the same thing. But the one thing I remember most about this book was when Margaret got her first sanitary pad, complete with A BELT and HOOKS. I remember wondering WTF? Why does she need a BELT with her pad?

Ain't THAT a bitch?? As if bleeding/cramping/crying for four to five days wasn't enough, ya gotta deal with harnesses?? If I had to deal with this, I would have ended up getting in a tangled mess or choking someone with it. God Bless the man/woman who invented adhesives.

Of Mice And Men:
"No, no, don't do dat! George will know I done a bad thing and won't let me tend to da rabbits!"

CRACK.

Awesome.


She's Come Undone.
I broke the rules. I rebelled. I bought this book purely for its cover.



And I got a treat when it turned out to be really really good. And smelled delicious.

Case For A Creator:
Because before I read this book, I always wondered why science and religion were at odds with one another. I personally thought that maybe science was just an in depth explanation of what God did. Whereas religion takes a more spiritual approach to God to appeal to our soul. But essentially, it's the same topic, different name. For example if you ask a Scientist what energy is, he would probably tell you that it is the fundamental substance of everything in the universe, it can't be created or destroyed, etc. If you ask a religious person what God is, they would probably tell you that it is a fundamental substance of everything in the universe that can't be created or destroyed...POTATO-POHTATOE.
(And seriously, if you pass the dutchie on the left hand side, we can have a wonderful discussion about this and then devour a box of Twinkies afterwards. Good times.)
The author of this book basically took that thought of mine and wrote a whole book on it, therefore solidifying the fact that I'm a genius. (or just high) A former atheist, he interviewed a bunch of scientists on the idea of God and his existence and it is surprising what they say. A GREAT book. And for those who can't imagine reading through a bunch of scientific explanations, I think there's a DVD on this too.( FYI: That's about as close as I get to discussing religion on this blog btw so don't bombard me with comments about religion or God or Mary or baby Jesus because I DON'T CARE. I have my own views on it, you probably have yours and in my opinion, we're all probably arguing the same thing. So do unto others and don't go killing anyone. Capiche? Let's leave it at that.)

Johnny Got His Gun.
Dude...he was basically a concious slab of beef. Talk about a bad fucking day.

The Boy Who Would Be King:
An Elvis book that I could actually stomach. A book written by his cousin, most of it focuses on his life before he got famous and how extremely poor his family was, the death of his twin brother at birth, his guilt for being the one that lived, his momma's boy issues, his momma's issues, his daddy's issues, etc. etc. But I like it mostly because, again, a lot of the book had to do with the everyday lives of poor country folks in the South. This book introduced me to what sharecropping was, moonshining, bucking hay, drinking out of jelly jars, putting gravy on everything, cooking with bacon grease. FANTASTIC.
I'm telling you..hillbillies (rednecks) fascinate me.

The Notebook:
I read this WAAAAAY before the movie even came out. Actually, it was one of those books that came in the mail because I didn't send my "Do Not Send My Featured Book Selection" slip in time to the monthly book club. So I was kind of forced to read it and before you know it, I was wiping snot on my sleeve. The only book ever that got my waterworks started. The letter the guy wrote at the end just left me a blubbering mess. Sap.

The DaVinci Code:
A fun book that really didn't deserve all the bad press it got from the religious groups for supposedly misinterpreting religious text that might mislead people blah blah, yackity schmackity (seriously, if a person is going to change their entire belief system based on reading a fictional book then they weren't that devoted (or smart) to begin with - but whatever, there I go again NOT discussing religion)
This was just a good ol' crime solving book. Always a good read. I was impressed by the movie because you know the deal, the movie is never as good as the book, but the movie was pretty much the same as the book. HOWEVER I prefer the book because then I don't have to stare at Tom Hank's mullet for two hours. That was just horrifying.


On our next episode of I Gets My Read On Yo:
BAD,HORRIBLE, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE I READ THE WHOLE THING list of Books that I wasted a few days of my life on. (some of them even smelled great but it was all a FARCE!)