Oatmeal and bananas

I’ve never been a fan of oatmeal. My mom used to make this thick, lumpy concoction over the stove, scramble an egg – mix that in, and finally stir in some raisins. She’d set it down in front of me and tell me I had to eat it. Try putting that down your throat without gagging! Blaaaaah. Needless to say, since those traumatic experiences as a child, I have not been a big fan of the stuff.

When Starbucks introduced their oatmeal, I thought “Gross! Who would want to pay for oatmeal, much less eat it?!” But my sister-in-law convinced me to try it and it actually wasn’t all that bad. Probably because there were no eggs! I still didn’t love it, though.

Just recently, my friend from work introduced me to Jamba Juice oatmeal. They have bananas and brown sugar, berry, and apples and cinnamon. I thought, hmmm, that sounds tempting. So I tried the berry oatmeal and fell in love! It tastes just like berry pie! Plus, they use steel cut oatmeal that doesn’t really get soggy.

But the real kicker is this…my friend’s favorite is the banana and brown sugar. I don’t really care for bananas - for the same reason I didn’t like oatmeal in the first place – the texture and gosh awful consistency! But she made me try it one day and much to my surprise, I LOVED IT! Eating the banana oatmeal from Jamba Juice is like setting off explosions of yumminess in your mouth!

I am truly a believer now! I finally get what all the fuss is about. I can honestly say that I LOVE OATMEAL!!! Thank you.

Lunch? Psyche!!!

So this morning I was so excited to get ready for work because I had a fabulous lunch date planned with my SATC girls (my little Sex and the City wannabee group). I put on my new white dress, adorned with ruffles, which I’ve been saving for a special occasion. I look absolutely fabulous as I leave for work.

Much to my disappointment, the phone rings on my way to work and it’s a very sick Charlotte cancelling. (Poor thing…she sounded awful!)

So I call Samantha to see if she still wanted to meet, which she did, so I’m back in excitement mode, pondering what I’m going to have. Then a little later, Samantha emails me at the office and has to cancel because of a last minute deadline. Bummed again, I pout the whole way to the coffee machine, and then the whole way back.

Not minutes pass that Carrie emails me and asks if I want to have lunch with her. Yippee!!!!! Back on! So I start hustling to get a couple of things done before my new fabulous lunch appointment. Disappointment again - Carrie emails me forgetting that she has an office lunch.

I’m so bummed! I’m even more bummed now that I’ve disclosed the fact that I’m, yes, Miranda. Yes, yes I am. I’m Miranda. But, I only accepted this role on one condition - that I get to be Miranda as played by Jennifer Aniston!

I’m half…get over it!

Okay, so here’s the thing. I’m half Chinese. I’M HALF FRICKIN CHINESE!!! GET OVER IT! I know I look white. But, I was raised by a single mom (Chinese), Chinese was my first language (didn’t speak English until preschool), grew up with my Chinese family (my white family lives in Florida – only met them once), ate a continent of Chinese food – okay, ate a lot of McDonald’s as well so that doesn’t count, wore my mother’s panty hose (not tights) with black mary jane Chinese shoes to 5^th grade (omg…I can’t believe I just disclosed that – it was a very painful memory), you get the picture.

So one thing I hate is everywhere I go, if I’m with my mother or a relative, or happen to say something in Chinese, or have to say something in Chinese, I get the STARE GLARE. Do you know that glare? I know it all too well. Am I a frickin tourist attraction or the one eyed 5 nippled monkey in a cage? NO! I am not!!! STOP STARE GLARING!

I always dread going somewhere where I have to speak Chinese in public, especially with my cousin – let’s call her Sally. I’ll tell you why. Let’s say we’re at a Chinese restaurant. As soon as the server approaches our table, she will say something to me in Chinese that I will have to respond to. Lo and behold, the STARE GLARE!, followed by a plethora of questions, followed by whispering to their fellow Chinese servers, followed by 5 or 6 Chinese people STARE GLARING!!!

Sally loves it. Yep, LOVES it! And I realize it’s because she’s proud to show off her half Chinese half white cousin that speaks perfect mandarin. I get it. But darn it, I hate the stare glare!

The battle inside my head

People have always told me I’m wishy washy. (It pisses me off cuz I know it’s true.) But I’ve come to realize that there’s actually an ongoing battle inside my brain between my white (logical) side and my Chinese (illogical) side.

For example, I can never make a damned decision on what I want to eat. Salad, no sandwich, no Mexican, no salad, no Mexican (phew...ruled out one), no salad cuz I need to lose weight, but I’m craving Mexican food...OKAY – SALAD it is. But where should I get the salad? No wonder I need Zoloft! I mean, really? Seriously?? Why can't I just pack my gosh darned lunch?

That brings me to another topic on topic...swearing. I like to swear. It's fucking great. But my Chinese side, the side that says I should be a lady and prevent vulgar language from pouring out of my mouth (think it, just think it, no one can hear your thoughts) gives me serious frickin guilt trips (again inside my head). Damn it - I love to swear! I LOVE it! It's cathartic and liberating - like slapping that stupid girl -- cubicles down and -- over. OMG...I'm driving myself NUTS! No, I am nuts. Do you see why I drink?

Why do Chinese people always say "Chinese people?"

Forgive me if this sucks...I haven't written anything creative since college.

Someone said to me the other day, “Why do Chinese people always say ‘Chinese people always...’ or 'Chinese people never...’?” - as if to blame their faults on the entire race?

We were talking about food (imagine that) and my friend made a very witty comment that made me lmhcao. I said "I wish I was witty. Chinese people aren't witty." Here's the thing. Chinese people aren't witty, but that's beside the point. Why do we always blame the race for being the way we are? Are we embarrassed to be Chinese? Or do we say that because we are damn proud of it and want to take any opportunity to point out the fact that we're Chinese? Or do we say that because we instinctively evade blame? Is it innate that we must blame?