Jojobeans V. World

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MACMACMACMACMACMACMAC, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

It’s that time of the year again when I SPLURGE on makeup. I’m a late bloomer when it comes to everything (haha, okay, not EVERYTHIING *wiggles eyebrows* ) - music..make-up… face-care. .. so while every girl was painting their faces at 15, I grew into my twenties without so much as putting on more than a dash of color here and there and only when I was going through an “I’m so ugly” phase.

So here I am in my mid-twenties and I own hardly ANY make-up. shocking! I envy the girls who can doll themselves up and look so comfortable with eyeshadow, mascara, nailpolish… me? I just can’t bother to spend the time. Plus, it all adds up! A starteer set of Clinique products are like RM500! Who has the money to buy a whole set when you’re not even sure if it’s the right product for you. If it doesn’t suit your skin after a week, then wasted lor, right???

I spoke to a dermatologist before (for my allergies) and she said that nobody really needs these skincare products. Cleanser, toner, moisturizer… it’s all marketing ploy. I totally trust her!

But I am also very vain.

Thus begins my spiral into cosmetic debt…

I LOVE MAC! they’re pricey but so worth it. so creamy, so smooth, spreads so evenly. AMAZING stuff! every christmas season they come up with these beautiful sets and this year i was in brooklyn and spent a grand total of $133 on brushes, eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick set, the works! See the pretty cases they come in? LOveLOVELOVE carrying them around, super duper handy.

So if anyone was wondeirng about this stuff, I can vouch for how fabulous they are! And MAC’s not even paying me to say this. MUAKS MAC!

I have a confession. I currently have a pantry that’s stacked with 13 boxes of cereal.

Thirteen.

. there are 4 boxes of kashi. 2 are opened. 3 boxes of frosted flakes. 1 is open and others ranging from special K to banana nut crunch to raisin bran to organic granola and I think there’s a wheatix in there too.

i think somewhere in my childhood i must have been trained to store rations for wartime. Or I could have been a squirrel in my past life. For the life of me, I cannot stop myself from buying boxes upon boxes of cereal every time I’m at Target (or riteaid or whatever store that has a cereal aisle). I mean, I KNOW cereal production isn’t going to come a sudden halt tomorrow. nor do I have insider stock tips at kelloggs. But somehow I cannot stop stocking up.

 So after this weekend visiting my dear friend Ah Diao - name changed (rather weakly) to protect the innocent - I HAD to get some of the cereal that I’d tried at her place. Special K Fruit and Yogurt! Yum! have you ever seen the ad where the skinny lady meets her friends for brunch in some chi-chi cafe and she has Special K for lunch? Apparently it’s very low in calories blablabla. And there’s a marketing called the Special K challenge where they say you’ll drop a jeans size in 2 weeks if you replace two meals a day with special K and a bowl o fruit.

My desire to lose weight coupled with my love of cereal resulted in the experiment log below:

November 6, 2007 .

6:30pm : I leave work. Drop by Rite Aid. Buy Special K. There’s a promotion on Kashi. $1.99 a box. Cannot resist deal. Purchase 1% milk too. A reduction in fats from my usual 2%.

7:00pm - First bowl of special K. The milk DOES become all strawberry-flavored! yum

9:00pm - energy levels wearing down. Lie down in bed

9:30pm - weak efforts at studying for LEED exam wearing thin. Losing focus (if any was there to begin with)

9:45pm - entire body shut down. brain still awake. very trippy sensation.

Somewhere between 10:30 and 11:00pm - pass out.

November 7, 2007

6:00am - why am I already awake??!!!!! grrr

6:45am - Bowl of Special K to start the day

9:00am - An hour into the workday and I’m not snacky yet.

10:20am - STILL not snacky. awesome!

12:09pm - walk home for lunch. walkies must surely count for extra weightloss.

12:35pm - Special K for lunch. I can feel the magic working. I feel pounds lighter. I” float back to the office. tra la

1:20pm - drawings looking more curvy and delicate

1:56pm - did I have helium with my cereal? why does everyone look so tiny?

 2:33pm - woozy… very woozy… is that a snickers bar?

2:47pm - energy returns. Saved by snickers bar

5:00pm - return home. chuck out Special K. Wolf down everything else in pantry.

Experiment terminated.

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, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

Last year I was this hottie naughty schoolgirl, complete with barely there plaid skirt and knee high socks. Fast forward one year later, am now with wonderful SigOther and lookit! I’m totally covered up head to toe, in comfy warm jumpsuit - this piece is part of my regular wardrobe. It was the in thing 3 years ago and I got it from MNG berlin. And yes, I don’t care how bad MNG has gotten over the years, my loyalty will never falter.

Gone are the red platform mary janes (they also refer to women’s shoes, not just ganja) , replaced instead with hiking boots. ??

From this we surmise that the longer I am in a relationship the less slutty my costumes are. Factor in age (increasing) and there you have it, next year I’ll show up as Goodyear Tire.

No nonono ladies and gentlemen… I am not going to be one of those people who let themselves go once they’re in a relationship. Sure, I tell all my attached and married friends to do that but it’s only because I want to wipe out the competition. comparison.

Look, even SigOther has more skin showing than me. He’s the leglamp from A Christmas Story. Those back home reading this and not getting it, don’t worry. That movie is ingrained only in the tv-diets on Americans. Remember how they show Wong Fei Hong on TV3 EVERY SINGLE Chinese New Year? Well, over here they play A Christmas Story on TBS for 24 hours on Christmas day. If you get a chance to watch it, it’s pretty good.

That said, I’m off now to hunt the discount racks for slutty Halloween 07 costumes!!!!

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11th Anniversary of Turning 21, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

So after weeks and weeks of sneaking around and faking appointments, scheming and drafting and redrafting the excel sheets of fun, Jill and I finally pulled off the Surprise Birthday Bash for our boys. Surprise parties are no easy task. Especially when your SigOther is a social animal who already has plans in the works for his own celebration.

I’ve also discovered that I am pretty bad at lying to cover my behind. There was that one lunch hour where I had to run home to “meet my landlord” (marinading roast for test cooking session) and the other saturday afternoon where I was supposed to have “lunch” with Shin (prepping 6 pounds of mushroom). SigOther would have an easier time believing I was enroute to secret rendezvous with steamy lover. But then I come back to the office smelling like garlic and soy sauce and there goes my story.

The food turned out way beyond expectations and the boys were thrilled. Guests were well fed but I don’t think I will throw another surprise party for a long time. All that legwork wiped me out. One practice session, food shopping, countless back and forth emailing, phone call rsvp-ing, creating excuses and prepping and cleaning afterward -phew! Shoulders tensing up just recounting the whole process. It was all well worth it though. And after dinner everyone adjourned to McFaddens to watch Mr. Greengenes do cover songs. It’s quite a sad state of affairs when you don’t recognize half the songs they cover. Their audience was filled with mainly collegey kids and who can understand what kids today are listening to. tsch tschh…

With this crew the night soon headed into a downward spiral of chaos and anarchy. Scenes too debaucherous I cannot contaminate my blog with. So I will leave it to your imaginations and hopes that the poor driver finds his cab that Howie hijacked!

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schuylkil river, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

The river’s a great place to be if it’s not wet and dreary out. Took this photo last Saturday at our annual dragonboat race. have been taking part in that for 3 years now. My back always gets sore for days afterward. Why do I continue to sign up for it every year???

We were there at 7am that day. It’s TORTURE to wake up at 5am on a rainy Saturday. Our first race was at 8 and then we pretty much filled in the hours by stuffing our face with food til our second race at 4pm. Great timing huh?

Our boat did come in 15th out of 128 though. *pats self on back*.

Nothing much to report on that day. I stayed bundled up for most of it.

More exciting posts to come. Promise!

Don’t leave me, target audience!!!!!

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A-WOOWOOWOO!!, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

Any time I travel out of Philadelphia city proper I get the thrill of ooh! going on an ADVENTURE!! *claps hands* Even the 30 minute ride out to picturesque Chestnut Hill is loaded with excitement. Never mind that a few thousand people commute this same journey every single day to work. To me, this novelty is like an expedition into the dark jungles of the Amazon… that is..an Amazon that’s more posh and has pricier boutiques.

Last weekend I coerced my friend Kate (see picture attached. she’s the one in blue. and only two legs…) to go check out Chestnut Hill with me. partly because I was getting tired of being boxed in by concrete city blocks and partly because there’s an ongoing street exhibition of painted animals (I think they were trying to replicate Cow Parade - i LOOOOVE those cows) all along germantown Avenue. Our firm had sponsored one of the painted animals (see camel above. No comment…) so out of company loyalty we went to see how it fared in the menagerie of beasts.

I’ll say this, it looks better when it’s outdoors.

*cough.cough*

A for effort?

Better to have loved and lost….

eh…. I tried.

So anyway, back to Chestnut Hill. It’s a really pretty, posh place. For the Malaysian readers out there, it’s kinda like Frasers and Camerons but populated with stores like Bangsar back in it’s glory days. there was this consignment store that we stepped into that had items from Gucci, Versace, Furla… who buys second hand shoes that are $300?????!!!!! Sure, the original prices were twice that much but still! blech!!!

I’m ALL for consignment stores and flea markets. Are you kidding, that’s where I get most of my clothes from. I found the best vintage wholesaler at the summer fleamarkets. I love that no one else will be wearing my 50’s geometric print velvet dress and bakelite earrings. Best of all, your dollar stretches extremely far ( I paid $3 for a super funky blouse. SigOther assured me that only I have the ability to pull off a picnic blanket print tunic in red, purple and blue - I take that as a compliment)

I checked out the new Club Monaco on Walnut Street the other day and what really bugged me was how people find no problem in paying $300 for a handbag or $200 for a sweater. What really irked me was that it was these two young women who definitely looked like international UPenn students. ie. their parents had worked really hard and saved so that their kids could get to the United States and get a good, heck Great education. And how do they show their gratitude? They blow their daddy’s money on $179 scarves at Anthropologie and $300 handbags at Club Monaco!!! grrr!!!

Worst of all, if you come from a poor/developing country you’re aware that $300 is not even how much your average countryman earns back home in a month. Yes, conditions like that exist. Not within my own upper middle class circle of friends but I know that most of them would not be able to justify splurging that much on something so trivial as a scarf or bag anyway.

Okay, so the counteragument of this is that by patronizing these exorbitantly priced stores these rich students are contributing money back into the economy and thus paying the wages of the poor. Yes, but we’re talking about giant corporations here who get their goods at low low cost and raise their profit margins to benefit only their own.

ugh.

It makes me sick to think that someone will think $179 is a reasonable price to pay for a scarf.

ps: note to self. Stop turning every blog entry into some socialist propaganda.

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Banana Speaks Out, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

So my roommate’s birthday was this past weekend (Happy birthday Roomie!!). She had a bunch of friends drop by and they went out for dinner, etc etc. I didn’t join only because I already had other plans made from before. But here’s the interesting part about the visitors though, they were ALL Chinese. China Chinese. I don’t think I ever felt so out of place! yeah, what can I say, I’m a true Banana - yellow on the outside, white on the inside.

I could comprehend maybe 10% of the mandarin they spoke (it was in a different dialect than I’m used to I think…although I’ll be honest, I only understand 10% of the dialect that i DO speak anyway). When they broke off their conversation to speak in English I could tell they were making an effort to help me feel included. I bet what they really thought was “TRAITOR! Traitor to your own race!!!” *hangs head in shame* Could feel all 20 squinty judging eyes boring into my back as I tried to blend into the furniture.

This lead to SigOther asking the profound question - is there a name (besides traitor) for someone like me. Someone who doesn’t solely hang out with their own kind. Thinking about it, it’s not like I SHUN other Asians. A quick count recalls 2 Koreans, 1 Taiwanese (now deported), 2 Singaporeans, 1 American Chinese, 1 mainland Chinese, 1 Indian, 2 Filipino.. (i’m sorry, I tried to make it ring like a Christmas carol but I can’t say i have 12 Korean friends) yeah, that seems like a VERY decent number of Asian friends. Not to mention the gazillions that I have from back home.

Friend suggested the term SPG, or Sarong Party Girl. But that doesn’t apply here. SPGs originated on the Singapore club scene where the local girls (caricatured wearing the sarong) would hunt the expatriate white men in hopes of marrying them and moving to a foreign country. Gold-diggers. But that doesn’t apply to my case. Number 1, I do not hunt white men, I have plenty of female white friends too. Number 2, I may be dating a caucasian but in the US, caucasians ARE the locals hence the expatriate part doesn’t apply.

So.. I guess I’d say I’m quite .. assimilated… It’s not strange to find people who kinda keep to their own kind, like Roomie. Nor is it difficult to find those like me who like having friends from all over. In my case I think the significant difference was that I moved here 5 years ago alone, separate from the pack that went to study in Australia or England where they have their cluster of local friends. When you’re a stranger in a new country it’s too easy to find a comfort zone with your own countrymen and I guess for me because I came alone, it was a case of ’sink or swim’. I swam. To my advantage I’ve always spoken English growing up. I regret not trying harder to learn mandarin or cantonese but I guess it’s helped me assimilate faster here.

How did I get into this pondery post? It was supposed to be funny and uplifting! damnit.. oh well. Now you get to see the pondery side of Jojobeans!

jim ER 1, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

SigOther had slight mishap last night. Was reading my book in Rittenhouse at 7pm when I got a call from him telling me he’d “split his skull” - gives new meaning to the drinking event. Naturally, was very worried. He’d spent the day at Sipping by the River , a yearly wine/beer tasting festival with a bunch of our friends and had somehow decided that he could carry Fred on his back four blocks and back. Both parties being equally drunk they were convinced of their invincibility. …

Unfortunately, said alchohol impaired acute judgement and after 10 steps, my poor SigOther stumbled and hit his head on concrete plater box. Ouch! This is when I got the call. Val and Jim brought him to the ER and I met them there soon after. Poor baby was splotchy with dry blood but still in great spirits. Executed rambuctious clapping in ER waiting room upon my arrival. oh noooo…. I am officially the “person accompanying the injured drunk guy”.

I get dirty looks from other people in Waiting room who have accompanied friends/relatives with major injuries. I shoot them dirty looks right back. except the bum who’s passed out in the corner. (In my experience, bums have found ERs to be great places to sleep the night. Open 24 hours and has bathroom facilities. pee-yew! they stink! Hospitals need to do something about this)

Another familiar experience with ERs.. their names are truly MISLEADING. For an “emergency” room, they take 3-4 hours before they tend to you. It’s not just this hospital but every ER I’ve been to. Yeah, I’m kind of an ER connoiseur.

Once he got attended to though I was surprised that I got to stay to watch the procedure. When he got the local anaesthesia injected into his forehead I thought I was going to faint!! Good thing you had a protective cloth over your eyes the entire time babe, the worst wasn’t over. The doctor inserted EIGHT stitches and each time I cringed more than before!!!! eeks! EIGHT! and with a device that looks like a FISHING HOOK!!!! I wanted to look away but it was like a car accident, you just CAN’T ! there’s just some morbid fascination with blood and flesh!

Any ideas I had about going back to school to be a doctor flew out the window with the first stitch.

Concerned readers will be glad to know that SigOther is doing well right now, recuperating at home and practicing the tale about being mauled by packs of wild dogs that will go with his new scar . : )

FLYING TOMATO!, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

(waits for hysterical laughter to dies down)

…

(still waiting)

… yes. this is how red I get after ONE margarita. The monkey face photo pose is natural. I can’t take pictures without making some stupid face.

But LOOK HOW RED I GET!!!!!! Compare to Adele (in middle) whose tofu blue skin has had no contamination of alcohol and Mike Blumenthal whose caucasian genes are predsiposed to absorbing alcohol. It is believed that if caucasians do not consume at least a bottle of alcohol a day their skin becomes transparent and you can see through their pancreas. Therefore alcohol consumption is necessary to avoid unnecessary run-ins among translucent caucasians.

I used to be allergic to ALL alcohol… beer, wine, vodka, rum, you name it. For years my sympathetic friends tried to run tests (me being guinea pig) to see what I could possibly NOT be allergic to. I’ve been to the Emergency Room three times due to hives from alcohol. I’ve also been to an allergist to see if anything could be done about the hives. Nothing really worked. It was so disappointing to be in Rome a semester and not be able to drink all that fabulous wine. And being the only sober one in a party full of drunken ***holes is not very fun, especially at closing time when everyone and their mother is drunk off their rocker and you have to deal with them. But I’m nothing if not determined.

Every year I put in at least one big effort toward the cause (hence so many ER visits) and it finally paid off! last summer I discovered that i can drink Baileys. then over Christmas I found another drink I was not allergic to (well, okay, not SOOOO allergic to) - lambic! then sangria, and most recently I’ve grown a penchant for margaritas! I think what is was is that as long as the drink is thoroughly diluted in soda or fruit juice, it helps take the edge off my reaction to it. It doesn’t matter how dilute it is, I STILL get drunk.

Drunk Jolin is like this:
1 minisip = no effect
3 minisips = blush apparent
5 minisips = skin starts glowing bright red
half a glass = starts speaking loudly, skin hot and red
3/4 glass = eyes droopy, words slurry
1 glass = passes out

So as you can see, I function much better with no alcohol in me. But if I were to join the party, I’m still a wonderfully cheap date! (and a giant red homing beacon)

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good advertising…, originally uploaded by jolinjojobeans.

Cross the bridge over to Long Beach Island and you won’t miss this HOMAGE to advertising. Really, some execs have a few things to learn about product placement.

Was over at my friend’s apartment yesterday and the topic of Weirdos That You Meet On The Street came up. We both agreed that unlike on tv (case in point : Entourage latest episode - Vince gets approached by beautiful girl in bookstore) in REAL LIFE, only ugly fat balding jobless skanky dirty weirdos come up to you and start a conversation. Very much like MY most recent experience at the local Borders.

Monday.8:30pm. Location: Borders Philadelphia
I am leafing through New Englander travel magazine.
Bespectacled pasty white Man in white t-shirt (sweat stains visible), gym shorts and bicycle helmet grabs random newspaper and reads it while standing beside me.
I notice his close presence and ignore him.
Man decides that this is good sign for him to begin conversation

Man : So, do you like to travel?
Me (standing under giant TRAVEL department sign) : uh, yes.
Man : OOOOOHHHHHH.. (smiles perversely)

At this point it is obvious Man has bad teeth too.
I bury my head further in magazine.

Man : So, do you travel a lot?
Me : uh.. no (lies)
Man : OOOOOHhhhhhh ….. (smiles perversely like it’s the most interesting thing he has ever heard) Are you traveling to New England?
Me (holding NEW ENGLANDER TRAVEL magazine) : err… I am planning to. (resumes studying magazine with furious intensity)
Man : OOOOoooOOOooOOOhhh (glazed crosseyes light up. It’s the most amazing plan he has ever heard). So, what’s there to see there?(buggy eyes bulge further)

This painful exchange goes on for another 5 minutes or so. Finally Man has run out of newspaper to fake flip through and he has to move on to new magazine. I wait til he’s at least 10 pages in (and thus committed to reading said magazine) and grab the opportunity to dart for nearest door. Walking back to my apartment I constantly look back for signs of his bicycle helmet following me. The coast is clear. I still make one fake pass past my door to be sure he’s off my trail.

Who knew bookstores were so dangerous…