Shrinking Brain

I've been in taxis many times in my life, but never in Los Angeles until this morning. Having a car is sort of a must when you live in LA since it's so spread out. There's even that song that was famous in the 80's called, Nobody Walks in LA. You really rarely see people walking in LA, and even though it seems to have changed a little now that there is that underground metro system, I wouldn't be able to survive without a car here. Plus, I'd be too afraid to ride in it with LA being an earthquake city and all. The possibility of being buried underground when the earthquake hits just doesn't sound like fun.

So when I woke up in my friend, Becky's bed this morning when her alarm went off at an ungodly hour of 8 (especially on a Saturday after a long night of too much fun & too much drinking), I couldn't fathom walking back to where I had parked my car the night before. I couldn't fall back asleep, and I felt like death. Phil was with us the night before, but he had already walked back to his car in the middle of the night to go home according to Becky who's eyes were shut closed, half dead beside me; and since she didn't have a car, I decided to call a cab. (Becky said it would take me an hour to walk to where my car was.)

The cab was no different than any other cabs I've been in. I sat in the back thinking how desperately I wanted to go home to my parents' as I was beginning to feel nauseous. I also looked out the window & felt bad that Phil had to walk all that way to his car. It really was far, and I would've been hating life had I had to walk all that way back. I imagined him cursing me, and hoped he wasn't too mad that he drove all the way to LA from Huntington Beach, and then had to walk all the way back to his car to drive home at 4 in the morning.

Then as I started digging into my purse for my wallet & my car key, I realized my key was missing. I was wrecking my throbbing brain trying to figure out where I could've left it, and decided it must've been at the Vermont (the bar where I had met Becky originally.) I knew the place wouldn't be open, so I called my mom to have her bring the spare. The poor woman had to drive 40 miles to bring her irresponsible daughter the spare key, and all I could think about was how shitty it was going to be to wait on the curb for her with a horrific hangover.

Well the hangover disappeared pretty quick when the taxi made its last turn to the street where I had left my car. My car was gone. I thought, g*d damn it! Did it get towed?! Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t! That's gonna cost me a pretty penny! What an expensive night this turned out to be...$20 cab ride, and probably $200 to recover the car. But when I got out of the cab & looked at the parking sign, I noticed that the 2 hour parking limit didn't start until 8, and it was not even 9 yet. And there was nothing that indicated I couldn't park there over night.

That's when I panicked. OMG, did my car get stolen? Did I drop the key next to the car? I remember pressing the button to lock the door as I was walking away from the car...or did I? Did I leave the key in the ignition? I thought I had just lost the car key, but I had lost my car as well! Great, I had lost my $40k car I had left behind in LA because I didn't want to be driving a B-mer, and I really got my wish...I no longer had a BMW.

I was about to call the police, but luckily a cop drove down the street, so I hailed it down. It was a big fiasco because I had an out-of-state driver's license, couldn't remember the plate number, and had to explain why I had a California registered car in LA, when I live in SLC. (Being a teacher wouldn't require me to have another car in a city I rarely visit.) I also had to explain that I had left the car over night far from where I was at because I was too drunk to drive it.

The guy kept asking me if I was drunk when I parked it, was the one parked up the street mine, was I sure I parked it in that spot, etc. I explained to him that I was a responsible teacher & would never drive my car drunk...hence the reason it was left there. Well, they finally found me in the system, and was told that I still have an active CA driver's license, but that I had $50k outstanding thingamajig I owed the State. (I don't...they were just messing with me by this time. The lady officer even gave me some gum since I had one foul morning breath from passing out drunk the night before. I must say, these LA cops were real nice & friendly.)

I thought, see, this is why I would never move back to LA. This is a sign...it's telling me this place is dangerous & I don't belong here. My mom eventually showed up as I was finishing with the police officers, and we drove home with her telling stories of her friends having had their cars stolen to only find out they had parked it elsewhere. "Mom, I wasn't drunk when I parked it. I know where I parked the car, and I'm not going senile even though I did leave my jacket in Kim's car." (Kim had picked me up from the airport, and I did leave my jacket in her car two days prior.)

I spent the rest of the day either hugging the toilet or passed out on my parents' bed feeling like death even in my sleep. I had to cancel all my plans for the day, and promised I'd never drink again...again, for the 100th time. Then in one of those half waken state, I saw myself walking to Becky's house from a car...but why wasn't I dropped off right in front of her building? Why did I have to walk like half a block to her apartment complex? (One of Becky's friends had driven us around all night in her convertible.) That's weird...no, but if I had driven my car, why would Becky not have said something this morning when I took the cab to my car? And she hasn't called... I must be delirious.

Well, I called Phil since I knew he wasn't as drunk as me or Becky to tell him about my stolen car, but to also confirm that we had been dropped off at Becky's by the girl with the convertible. He didn't pickup, but while I was passed out again, he left me a message.

Rachel, you're too funny. We drove to Becky's. You drove your car, I drove my car, and we parked it right across from her building. It was parked right behind mine when I left, I'm sure it's still there. And no, I didn't walk all the way back to get my car. It was parked only a half block away. You said you were fine to drive...had I known you were that drunk, I wouldn't have let you driven. But you did drive fine. Call me back.

Unbelievable...I had no memory of that part of the night. Holy sh*t, that report on NPR the other day is right. Drinking does shrink your brain...and I've been drinking for over 20 years.

When I called the police station to tell them that the car hadn't been stolen & that I was going to go get it in the morning from my friend's house, the guy on the phone said,

"Unless you want to have guns pointing at you & end up in jail until they can prove you didn't steal the car, do not go near the car. Call us when you get to your friends' in the morning from a neutral place, not too close to the car. The police will need to recover your vehicle first before you go near it, or you will end up in jail. I repeat, do not go near your car."

I swear, I'm done drinking... for reals.

Becky did eventually find my key.

Alcohol the Culprit?

I was invited to a dry birthday party last night, and was told I'd be the only one drinking if I brought any alcohol. I was a little hesitant to go because I pictured us drinking milk and playing pin the tail on the donkey. But because it was a party for a good friend of mine, I decided to go. (Yes, such parties do exist if you've befriended a bunch of Mormons.) However, as the night progressed, some non-Mormons showed up with alcohol & I did get to enjoy a few glasses of wine. If you're wondering why this tidbit of background info, it is so you understand that there were a quite a few none drinkers at this party.

So as it always happens when you gather people around who work together, a few office stories were shared. Apparently, a guy was fired after a work party. He made some pervy comments to one of my friends, which bordered on sexual harassment. She was surprised (because she had thought the guy was kinda cool) & walked away; but when he didn't show up to work the following week she asked around & heard that he was let go after the party. She thought he must've done the same thing to others, and perhaps to a wrong person who reported it. Of course this is all speculation, but for a moment, few of us were discussing the topic of sexual harassment at work.

In case you're not familiar, sexual harassment is any behavior of a sexual nature that is unwelcome, unasked for and unreturned. It can be physical, verbal, written or visually offensive material, according to Google. My friend Hasen didn't think a guy could get fired for saying pervy things to a girl at a party, even if the company threw it. So whether someone could get fired for an out-of-work or off-site party behavior was in question.

This is when I heard the most ludicrous thing ever. It went something like (I'm totally paraphrasing here), "Well they served all that alcohol, what d'ya expect?" Plus a few more comments that emphasized the alcohol distribution by the company & the typical behavior of a guy under the influence. I couldn't believe my ears, but I kept my mouth shut.

An article I had read a few weeks back flashed in my mind. It took place in a little suburb right outside of SLC. A group of Mormons were pissed at the city council for letting restaurants serve alcohol in their neighborhood. One of the leaders who voted on the measure was screamed at by one of these Mormons, "You're going to burn in hell!"

I could not believe this girl was blaming alcohol for the guy's bad behavior. Not only has she never had an alcoholic beverage in her life, I don't think she's ever been to a work function. Doesn't matter how lax the work atmosphere is- it is still work, and you never, ever make unwanted sexual advances at a coworker. That's work etiquette number one, and unless you're a total douche bag, you don't use alcohol as an excuse either. If this girl's theory is correct-that alcohol at a work party is the culprit-then I'm surprised not more guys get fired after work parties since it is very typical for work functions to have free liquor for everyone to enjoy.

This is why we have people who blame the victim for getting raped. It's that same mentality. If she wasn't drinking & wasn't dressed like a slut, it wouldn't have happened. I know we're all different & have different beliefs, but it's really hard to understand the way others think sometimes...especially when they are so young. I can understand older people having backward thoughts because they just come from that backward thinking generation, but seriously, how is our society going to change at all when young people make comments like that?

Not all non-drinking Mormons think that way & hence the reason I've hung out with them as much as I have. They are pretty open minded about a lot of stuff. I just wonder how they can hang out with someone who has such uber backward view even if they do belong to the same faith.

I think they need to teach their ultra religious friends that quote: Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says to love your enemy. Now if I could only remember who said it.

I AM Asian!

My friend Chris is an amazing cook. Lucky for his wife Cassie, he cooks for her every night. If I was married to Chris, I'd be a tub o' lard, but Cassie's one skinny biotch...I hate her. But this post isn't about Cassie, nor is it about Chris. Surprise, surprise, it's about me. More specifically, it's about me & Asian cooking. The reason I bring up Chris is because he knows how to make incredible Asian food.

I was not a big Asian culinary fan. In fact, the first time I had sushi, I cried. I cried because my dad was forcing me to try it, and I didn't want to. Embarrassing to say, but I wasn't seven. More like seventeen. Not only was I spoiled, but I was a big cry baby until I graduated college. I also remember hating Thai food. My friends who had started exploring all these different types of foods, having finally left home to go to college, introduced me to some peanut sauce chicken dish & something else I can't remember. (They were going to UCLA hanging out at hip restaurants on Melrose while I was eating tacos at Roberto's taqueria down in San Diego.) I thought it was disgusting & stayed away from Thai food for ten years.

I had always been a finicky eater, and even though I lived in Korea until age ten, I grew up eating steaks, roasts & rotisserie chicken every week. Yes, I was a huge meat eater & liked my food kinda bland. Oh yeah, I loved, loved cheese. (Not many people ate cheese back then in the old country, and according to my family, probably the reason why I have White people's B.O. & have to wear deodorant when no other Koreans do. Did I mention they don't sell deodorants in Korea?)

So anyway, Vietnamese, Indian, Japanese, Thai...none of their foods fared well with me. (I did like Chinese, but not the super ethnic dishes.) But after moving to San Francisco, I gradually began to explore the Orient, and actually learned to like their foods even though I still preferred Italian, Spanish, Mexican, and French restaurants over Asian. It was during this time that I also discovered I was a pretty good cook. Have no idea how that came about as I grew up never having to lift a finger. We had a cook & a maid growing up in Korea, and when we moved to the States, my mom would get our meals from a restaurant or a caterer & pretend she made it. (She was a horrible cook.)

Well, I began throwing dinner parties once I moved out on my own, and realized how much I enjoyed entertaining. That tradition continued here in Salt Lake City. Amazingly, the group of friends I made here are also fantastic cooks, and that's when I experienced Chris' Asian cooking. He had all sorts of Asian sauces & ingredients in his kitchen...stuff I had never seen or heard of before. I mean, my kitchen was filled with spices & oils, but nothing that came close to what he had in his kitchen. You'd think he & Cassie were Asian by the looks of their kitchen. They even had a wok! I never had a wok until recently. I remember once when Chris was making dinner, I volunteered to make the rice. He seemed hesitant to let me do it, but I said, "C'mon Chris. I'm Asian. It's in my genes...I know how to make rice. Let me do it."

I burned the bottom of his pot (the rice on the bottom burned while the rest was mushy.) The truth is, I can't make rice. The irony is (being Asian & all), being a skillful cook as I've been praised of being, when it comes to making food from the Orient, I suck...I mean royally suck. I even mess up rice in the rice cooker. Chris won't let me go near his rice anymore, and he gives me this look like, and you call yourself Asian, you fraud.

So, I've been on a mission to change this. I've been practicing, with not much success at first; but this last weekend, I went back to the Chinese Market (Chris & Cassie turned me on to this place). Even though I wanted to gag because it smells real funky in there, I roamed around for about an hour & spent about sixty dollars. (That's a ton considering this place is super duper cheap.) I brought home all that stuff Chris has in his kitchen & more, and began cooking up Chinese & Thai all this week. The first attempt was disastrous. The Chinese eggplant dish was bitter & the meat tasted like barf. The rice was like porridge, and once again, I failed it in the rice cooker.

The next day, I tried Thai. I attempted at Pad Thai. I almost choked on it because the noodle was still hard & stiff. (Don't understand why I can't boil it like pasta...the recipe calls for soaking in warm, not hot, but warm water.) The lemon grass soup was pretty decent, but hot as hell. Tears were rolling down my cheeks because it was so damn spicy.

Thank god my aunt & cousin came over for dinner yesterday. (Yes, Alex was in town for a few days for those of you who thought I was lying to leave Park City early.) I couldn't make them be my guinea pigs, so I made shrimp & chicken Paella...a Spanish rice dish. It was fabulous. My first decent meal all week. What is wrong with me? Why can't I make Asian food?!

Well today, I attempted Thai again. My friend Eve stopped by with some clothes. She tried the Pad Thai & thought it was pretty good. The noodles were soft. It actually wasn't too bad this time. Of course after she left, I found two ingredients by the sink I forgot to add, but at least the noodles were soft. I also made this squid dish. Never touched raw squid before. I was kinda grossed out by it, but needed the practice for my seafood Paella & my future Calamari. So I persevered and sliced the heads off. It turned out pretty good, too. And finally, my jasmine rice was perfect. It didn't burn the pan (I forewent the rice cooker).

I was worried that I would forever be dubbed the Asian who couldn't make rice, but I believe I've turned a new leaf. I can make rice, god damn it! Just watch me make that sticky rice in that urn with the hat. (That last sentence is for Chris.)

How do I look, God?

One of the perks of living in Salt Lake City is that you get free access to the BYU Mormon channels. Not being a huge TV fan, I don't have cable. So on those rare occasions when I just want to veg out, I find myself flipping through the channels and inevitably end up on one of these three stations. (Don't know whether they have 3 stations or somehow are able to show 3 programs on 3 different channels, but I receive all three on my digital TV.)

Today was one of those days. It rained, plus I partied all weekend because it was a friend's birthday, so I was pooped & just wanted to hide out in my basement. I purposely put my TV down there so I won't be tempted to sit in front of it when tired. (It's long ways down, and being the lazy bum that I am, I only go down there to do laundry on occasion.) Usually, I find other ways to amuse myself, but like I said, being a zombie in front of that box was badly needed today.

So as I'm flipping through the channels as nothing was on, (it is Sunday & football season I gather from all the football coverages...wait a minute...I thought football was on Mondays...Monday Night Football, right?) I stopped at one of the Mormon channels (the other two had some old men bearing their testimonies...the Mormons are always talking about bearing their testimony if you're not familiar...and don't ask me... all I know is that they cry while at it.)

Well, on that third channel, a pretty blond girl was talking about modesty. (Did I mention there are a lot of blonds here? I remember my first month teaching here joking to a friend in California, I can't tell my kids apart, they all look the same...they're all blond & blue eyed!) The girl was educating me through this program (since I was watching) that God loves us so much, he gave his only son to forgive us for our sins, and since Jesus sacrificed so much for us, out of respect, we needed to dress respectably.

Before going out the door, I'm to ask myself, "Would Jesus approve of what I'm wearing today? Would he be proud of how I'm dressed?" She actually demonstrated this by going through her clothes in her closet, looking at herself in the mirror, brushing her hair several times, putting on her earrings, necklace, & a bracelet, and then smiling at her reflection, obviously very proud of what she saw.

Hmm, this must be why a 6 year old kid in my class used the word immodest my first year teaching in SLC. I thought, how clever this little girl is, knowing a word like that at age six; but now I know, it's probably a word that's used quite often in her home/church environment. Now I understand why the Principal addressed the entire faculty & students via the intercom on how we should dress. It was me! She was addressing me! I didn't grow up in Utah, and missed the educational shows like the one I watched today dealing with modesty. I don't look in the mirror every morning and ask that critical question- Jesus, how do I look? You approve? (I also never brush my hair.)

I wear tops that show my shoulders, I don't always wear a bra...actually, I rarely do (I don't have them knockers everyone seems to have here...I swear, my first few months here, I thought I had somehow ended up in LA again), and I wear a dress over my jeans. (That's something I picked up living in San Francisco where it's always cold, even when it's sunny in the afternoon. You learn to layer because you never know how hot or cold it's going to be through out the day. So since you do want to wear those dresses you have, but don't want to be caught with bear legs in case the fog rolls in or be wearing boots if the fog rolls out, you compromise by wearing both your dress & your pants.) But I don't see how that could be immodest, other than the fact that many of my dresses have spaghetti straps...oh, I do have that one black one that has no straps. But seriously, how is showing your shoulders immodest in the eyes of Jesus & God? (Apparently, not adhering to the modest dress-code also means I have no respect for myself.)

Come to think of it, a parent from my class told me this summer that my first year at Beacon Heights (my school), my clothes were the talk of the community. Apparently, some of the faculty & my boss were concerned how the parents would react to my immodesty. I wonder if God would frown upon the indigenous people around the world who wear next to nothing because the climate is so darn hot. Aren't there Mormons in Europe? How do they go to the beach where all the females walk around with their bare boobies? Wait a minute, don't the Brazilians also take their tops off at the beach? I thought a ton of LDS Missionaries go to Brazil from here. I wonder if they take a copy of that program I saw to teach the natives how to dress so God will be pleased.