Monday, March 22, 2010

Last week, my parents had me speak to my grandmother on the phone. It was awkward in several ways -- I only knew her from one visit my entire life, which was a decade ago; I'm already socially awkward by nature; and I don't speak Cantonese very well. Still, though I fumbled through a few . . . ()

posted at 3:08:29 pm
Comment.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

I really never thought this'd happen:My mom rang me this evening. After I said "hullo," she briskly got to the point: "Why can't I be your friend on Facebook?" I had rejected her request only minutes ago, one that had baffled me because I had long ago patiently explained the social sh . . . ()

posted at 8:29:37 pm
4 commentations.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

My dad used to keep his wallet in the back pocket of his pants. We all told him this was a retarded idea, but he insisted the wallet was so big, stuffed with about a month's worth of gas and grocery receipts, that his ass would know if it was gone. This delusion is one of his many quin . . . ()

posted at 9:03:11 am
8 commentations.

Friday, April 20, 2007

3: When I was six, my grandmother, who was visiting us, was robbed. She was not mugged, as she was not hurt or threatened with violence. She had been walking me, my neighbour, and my brother (who must have then been four at the time) home in the afternoon after school. She was a tiny . . . ()

posted at 7:25:40 pm
3 commentations.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I am, when I stop to think about it, quite thankful that my parents are not more forceful about my choice of friends and miscellaneous companions. They are Chinese immigrants, and as my friends'  families have amply demonstrated, they could be far more conservative, and far, far more tyra . . . ()

posted at 8:45:52 pm
4 commentations.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

"Your parents are swingers," Jon Stewart's voice says. "What?" I say in disbelief. I turn the corner. Light floods over me; my mother is sitting up serenely on the far side of an enormous bed, modestly covered up to her underarms by sheets and a butter yellow comforter. "Hi, honey.""Hi." My& . . . ()

posted at 2:29:16 pm
7 commentations.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

On August 7th, the day after my twentieth birthday, my family dined out for the special occasion at a Markham restaurant. An immediate fondness sprung for the restaurant's name -- which will be revealed to you in due time -- upon examination of the paper chopstick wrappers. I made a mental note . . . ()

posted at 9:48:41 pm
5 commentations.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

It wasn't all that funny, really. Doctor: [Sees Wesley] Is that your son? Me: Haha. No. That's my brother. Doctor: But you're so old and he's so young! Me: Haha. Charming. Doctor: Your mother must've been a very busy woman! Me: Haha. Yeah. Terribly. . . . ()

posted at 9:05:53 pm
6 commentations.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Him: [Lying on the floor, yells] Wesley, I can smell you from across the room. Wesley: Haha, no way! You're just boasting! Him: No, I'm not. Wait. [Looks at me] What does 'boasting' mean? Me: [Waiting for popcorn to pop] It means bragging. Wait. [I look at him] You're seventeen ye . . . ()

posted at 10:50:35 pm
9 commentations.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Little Wesley and I over pizza, fries, and chicken strips in the Ontario Science Centre cafeteria: Me: So where are you going on this school field trip? High Park? Him: Yeah! We're going to have a picnic! And go to a petting zoo! Me: Sweet. What else are you guys doing to do? Him: . . . ()

posted at 6:05:28 pm
7 commentations.

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Glo'ri'a'na, noun:
1. An alternative form of "Gloria."
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.


   



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