The Comfy Corner

It's been happening my whole life... all the way back to when I was 7 or 8 and had to be dragged away from watching "The Golden Girls" long enough to go to basketball practice (against my will). I played for an entire season and managed to never touch the ball during a game. This kind of behavior carried on into middle school when I would be practicing my cartwheels and learning new hand clapping games with the girls on the side of the field instead of playing soccer with the other boys and the lesbians. And into high school when I managed to go to every high school football game for five years (because I was in the marching band) and I still don't really understand how the game works.

It all comes down to one simple concept...I DON'T LIKE SPORTS! Sure, I mean, I'll play a game of frisbee in the park as long as I'm not wearing my suede Pumas. And I'm always down for some whiffle ball as long as I can pretend I'm a cheerleader when I'm in the outfield. But other than that, I'm just not into it. I've tried (very feebly) and it's all a big yawn. This realization came to me a couple weeks ago when I was headed to dance class. The studio I dance at is right beside the TD Banknorth Garden (Where the Celtics play). There I was, fighting against crowds of rabid basketball fans trying to get to my Jazz II class (with Michelle Chasse). I was a tiny fish swimming against the current and for the first time in my life I felt...too gay to function.

Now, I told this story to my co-worker and she was retelling the story to another coworker (an elaborate game of telephone) but she added in one little detail (this is how rumors get out of hand, folks). She said that I was "decked out in my dance gear." I was shocked! She blatantly assumed that I was pushing through the crowds wearing my tights and my leotard with my ballet slippers tossed casually over my shoulders. Evidence to the contrary, Kendal! I was wearing cut off shorts, a white v-neck and my Pumas, (the red, suede ones...no frisbee for me!) I don't even own a leotard, and my tights are firmly tucked away in my dance drawer. So there!

Another time when I felt too gay to function was on the night of gay Superbowl Sunday (also known as the Tony Awards). This is an annual event for me that I refuse to miss. No matter what else is going on...this night is on my conflict sheet. Unfortunately, this was the same night as another Celtics game. My roommate (Grace...a girl) had to go to a bar to watch the game because I was hogging the television being... well... gay (i.e. getting all worked up over Catherine Zeta Jones winning a Tony she didn't deserve. Totally over it now, though. Clearly.). So moral of the story? Never ask me what sports I play. Never ask me if I watched the game. Never ask me who's playing tonight. And never ask me what the score is. I'm not watching the game. I'll never be watching the game. I'm too busy dancing.

Yesterday was Chris' golden birthday. The golden birthday is, unfortunately, a birthday that typically passes by most people unrecognized. It occurs when you turn the age of the day of the month you were born (i.e. Chris turned 26 on the 26th). Sadly, I was born on the 6th and on my 6th birthday I was far too busy snorting pixie sticks and pimpin' my tricycle to realize it was my golden birthday. But, Chris (of course) did not forget. In fact, he threw an epic celebration (not as epic as my friend Camille, though, who is throwing a "Golden Birthday Parade" on her golden birthday in New York, of which I hope to be in the band :)). <----hate that. Much to my excitement and joy, I was (self elected to be) put in charge of purchasing the decorations for the party. I went to a little store in Boston called iParty. I went in expecting to see some party supplies, I ended up in party heaven. It was like walking into Lady Gaga's closet. They had every imaginable decoration for every imaginable event: blow-up cactus', penis shaped everything for those bachelorette parties, feather boas of every description, sequin hats, sombreros, etc. I purchased 40 dollars worth of golden fringe, golden streamers, golden beads and a dozen red balloons with golden strings (see what I was going for? It was a gold theme. Got it? Good.). The balloon man tied my bunch of balloons into an elaborate bouquet with each balloon at a different length and each 10 ft long string curled into a perfect twist. I looked at him incredulously and after a couple moments of awkward silence as I stood there drop-jawed, eyes fixed on balloon mountain he said "perhaps you'd like it to be a little more compact?" I responded, "Yeah, I don't wanna float away." To which the woman who was assisting him laughed and laughed as if I was the first person with a sense of humor to walk into the party store. I mean, I felt like that was a pretty standard balloon joke, yeah? Sheesh.

So there I was armed with three huge bags of golden decorations, birthday presents and a dozen helium-filled balloons, when suddenly I realized that I had to get on the subway like this. And to top it all, I was traveling at approximately 5:30, the height of rush hour, on a Friday. It was official, I was about to become - the hated person on the T. I put on my sunglasses to conceal my identity and I boarded the crowded T... to my extreme dismay, the car I was on did not have air conditioning. So there I was crammed into the corner, balloons pressing against my face trying to be as small as possible, dressed in all black from work, sweat pouring down my face, the rubber making all sorts of noise, kids screaming "Look balloons" and me trying to act like nothing is out of the ordinary (like I'm a balloon delivery man or something). What I didn't consider was the fact that balloons do not react well to heat. Of course as soon as I considered this fact, an overfilled balloon popped almost giving one man a heart attack. I apologized profusely and made some awkward jokes about the heat. Outside I was wearing a smile. Inside, I was crying.

Finally, I made it out of the T armed with 11 balloons now. All was clear from here on out. Just a quick 10 minute walk through Harvard square. I was home free! As I was walking, though, an abrasive voice sounded behind me "Watch out for dat blanch! You going to pop dah barrooons!!" I looked back to see a small Asian woman following me with a deep look of concern for my balloons and sure enough POP! I lost another one. With ten balloons left, I finally thought to myself, "Wow, I must look like a complete idiot. I wish I could see myself now." The best I could do was capture this picture of my shadow. The balloon journey is not one to be made lightly folks. If you have to make it, watch out for hot subways and low hanging branches. Otherwise, you may very well pop your barroons.

1. When I'm yelling and I mess up what I'm saying (I'm actually a proud member of the Facebook page :))

2. When I wanna put an emoticon in a parenthetical statement and it comes out really awkward (as shown above :() Yikes, even worse.

3. When I do something funny but only one person sees it or hears it and they insist that I do it again for everyone else and then after a whole minute of "No, it was a one time thing. I don't wanna. Now, everyone's looking." I finally do it and they're like, "No, that wasn't it." and then I feel like an asshole.

4. When I have to frantically flip through all of my windows and tabs to find out where the music is coming from.

5. When my brain gets overloaded and I do stupid stuff like carry a tray of drinks into the men's bathroom (only did that once, btw.)

6. When I wanna stalk someone on FB but we have no mutual friends and I have no reason to friend them.

7. When people remember my name but I don't remember theirs

8. When people tag me in photos when I'm in the background alone. Or worse, if I'm looking in on the action longingly.

9. When people stop texting in the middle of a convo.

10. The fact that sarcasm is not easily conveyed in text messages. Thanks god for emoticons.

As I interact with different groups of people in the many different places in my life (home, work, school, at the bus stop, the Starbucks guy, grocery store regulars, the people at the gym [wow, even the places I frequent are frightfully standard]) I am beginning to really understand the notion that "at our core, we are all the same." Yeah, it's a trite, annoying phrase, especially for all of us that are desperately trying to be unique, stand out and leave our mark on the world. But, it really is true.. so get over it. For instance...

1. we all hate pedestrians when we're driving and and hate drivers when we're pedestrians. ("I have the right of way, asshole!")

2. we very rarely, if ever want an honest answer to the question "How are you?" (When we get an honest answer it usually ends in an awkward moment)

3. we all have an opinion of Lady Gaga, good or bad (or perhaps that's just the circles I frequent, but I can always bring up her name and it sparks a heated convo.)

4. we all resort to the same nostalgic conversations: Dinosaurs, Rugrats, Salute Your Shorts, Clarissa Explains it All, Legends of the Hidden Temple ("Omg, I wanted to be on that show SO bad. Like, that monkey at the end that they had to put together?! I was always like...it's so easy!" or "I was a Nickelodeon kid. It says SO much about your personality, right?")

5. we've all seen Glee (again, perhaps just the circles I frequent, but if you're reading this blog, I'm assuming you also watch Glee. I don't know why.)

6. we all pretty much have the same inside jokes with our friends ("You totally just pulled a Susan" or "Oh my god, what if Susan just walked in the door right now?")

7. we all get angry at people who are texting and not paying attention to where they're going, but we've all been that person.

8. we've all looked at the items other people are purchasing at the drugstore/grocery store and we've silently judged them.

9. we've all been in the awkward friend introduction situation when you don't know if you should shake hands, hug, or just give a nod. And we've all made the wrong decision at least once and felt really ashamed about it.

So breathe easy, Comfy Cornerers. We've all been there. It's all been done.

As I was doing my usual once over on my news feed, I saw something new; a sneaky addition to Facebook that was thrown in without any warning (I can picture the Snidely Whiplash-esque Facebook people all sitting in their dark rooms laughing maniacally and tapping their fingers together like crazy people as they make their little changes). You can now "like" people's comments. Basically, this new function is just making the whole stalking process quicker and easier for me. No longer do I have to take the time out of my busy schedule to type "I like Susan's comment...lol." I can simply go to Susan's comment, press the like button and go back to scrolling through my news feed.

The danger? Once you like anything on Facebook, Facebook automatically assumes that you want to be updated on what everyone else has to say about it as well. Sometimes, I must admit that I secretly really enjoy getting updates on everything. My inbox quickly fills with messages making me feel extra popular and I am basically thrown into a Facebook mini drama. I get all the gory details on what everyone thought of Catherine Zeta Jones' performance at the Tony's or what people think about Susan's drunk photo with Zach (drrama!). But, other times I really don't wanna know what everyone thinks about the humidity in New York, so I muster up all the restraint I can, and I refrain from pressing that devilishly easy to click like button.

It is a hard, cold fact that we are all slaves to time. Everything we do is time stamped. Every email, every text, every BBM, every Tweet, every Facebook comment/status update/message is neatly stamped with a time (3:17 Monday, June 21, 2010). With a few clicks, I can tell you that one hour ago, Cheyenne Jackson was complaining about the humidity ("Holy humidity, Batman!") and nine hours ago Lindsay Lohan's sleep schedule was screwed up by a night shoot. As a result of all of this, timing has become one of the most crucial elements to life. You have to say the right thing at the right time or you could get yourself into trouble. i.e. emailing papers in "before midnight." Clocking into work at the correct time. And it also, unfortunately greatly applies to our social lives.

I thought I would get over this, but I haven't. So, I suppose it is time for me to confess. Whenever people don't respond to my texts immediately, my mind always imagines that they are doing something really cool or important and that their lives are so busy that they can't take two seconds to respond with a "yeah, sure" or an "lol." So I sit there feeling miserable about my dreary life reading playbill.com 24/7 as my imagination pictures the other person laughing with friends, drinking cocktails and completely forgetting about my text. I've tried that waiting game...getting a text, putting my phone down, responding an hour later. I simply can't do it! My palms get sweaty, my breath shortens, I keep glancing over at the new text I have...I MUST RESPOND! The most I've lasted is maybe 7 or 8 minutes tops.

And now, with BBM (BlackBerry Messenger), there are no secrets. When someone BBM's you, BBM tells you exactly when they read the message and at what time they received it. This does nothing but add to my anxiety because now I know if people have read my message...and I sit there awaiting a reply like a poor pound pup waiting for an owner. My heart wants to text them back "I know you read the message, are you going to respond?" but my brain tells me too play it cool and act like I have no idea that they received the message. So I wait. And when they finally respond, I'll try to give them a taste of their own medicine but (7 minutes later) I'll inevitably give in and respond.

Also, and this really drives me bonkers, BBM tells you if they are typing or not which just adds another layer to the anxiety. This means, no more editing because they will know. "Susan is typing..." long pause "Susan is typing..." long pause "haha." IT DID NOT TAKE YOU THAT LONG TO WRITE "haha" WHAT WERE YOU REALLY GOING TO SAY?

In short, time stamps mark the beginning of the downfall of man.

So, I try not to write too much about my actor life because it is what I deal with on a daily basis, and this is a place for me to branch out and talk about other really interesting topics (like Facebook or the Silver Line...try no to be jealous of my exciting life). But, I had an auditioning experience recently that I just can't stop thinking about (it even clouds my endless daydreaming of Justin Bieber) and I thought that all of you may find it...inspirational, whether you are in the theatre business or not.

So I auditioned for Hairspray. The name of the company shall remain unnamed for my safety, but let's just say that this audition process was the biggest mess I have ever experienced. Hoards of high school, teenage girls showed up in pig tails all vying for a spot in this show and chaos quickly ensued. The two hour dance call turned into the four and a half hour dance call. And to this day, I could not tell you how they ever made a casting decision with the incredible lack of organization. But, the best part of this audition was, by far, the directors. The show was being directed by two of the original Hairspray cast members. One of them - let's call her Chantel - is the highlight of this story.

As I was crammed up against the wall of the hallway waiting to do the dance call and trying to catch pockets of fresh air amongst the teenage sweat and hairspray, Chantel walked up and silenced the group with her fierceness. She was taller than me, blacker than me, and she was not to be touched. She smiled a perfect smile at all of us and said "Listen up ya'll. I'm a Rockette. I've been in five Broadway shows and I know what I'm doin'. What ya'll gots to do...I said what ya'll gots to do..." (dramatic pause) "is get in dere and work it out. Be fierce ya'll. I said, ya'll gotta be fierce. Now I want each and every one of you to get in dere and book da job. I said, BOOK DA JOB! Let's go ya'll."

This was more inspirational than Beyonce's performance at Obama's inauguration. Maybe it was the power of her words, or maybe it was the fact that I was so miserable because I had been there for so long...but I almost cried. After the unreasonably long dance call, there was a crowd of people standing around. Some had to sing, some had to read, some were just black people that needed to be seen individually (because there were so few of them) but it was madness. Chantel walked out of the room (silence). "Alright ya'll. I know you all gots to do different things. But we're gonna work it out. Let's line it up and I want all ya'll to come in here and do whatchoo gots ta do ta book da job. Come on now, be fierce ya'll."

After waiting around in the line-that-never-moves for a couple hours, I left. I decided I was never going to be Link Larkin. I'm Asian...and an Asian has no place in a show about the struggles between blacks and whites. I left tired, cranky, frustrated, YET inspired. If you're out there Chantel...your audition was a mess but you are fierce as hell. Work it, gurl.

"My time has come!" I finally said to myself as I used my monthly link pass for the last time on May 31. "No more Silver Line drama for me!" The inevitable change from spring to summer meant that I was no longer a slave to the monthly fee to purchase my link pass. I have a bike, the fastest mode of transportation in the Boston area. When I ride the Silver Line I have to leave my house 30 minutes before any appointment just in case if there is traffic or delays. With my bike I breeze past the gridlocked traffic and through red lights and I can get there in 10.

So there I was on June 1, enjoying the summer sun, the breeze flowing through my hair as I pedaled my way up Washington towards Downtown Crossing - no crackheads, no strollers, no creepy men carrying small golden urns, just the sun, the breeze and me. It was a new season and I was a new man. Nothing could possibly get in my way. When suddenly, I heard an abrasive honk behind me. It wasn't the honk of any Honda Civic, it was a deep bellowing honk. It wasn't a chihuahua, it was a great dane. "What could possibly ruin this perfect day?" I said in shock. I turned my head and to my horror I saw the harsh, monstrously tall, flat front of the SL5. Yes, I was being chased by the Silver Line.

Sweat immediately clouded my vision as I pedaled faster. All I had to do was make it to the next T-Stop so that this monster would be forced to stop and admit more passengers. Then, I could gain a lead, possibly turn down another street where there weren't scary buses. I felt like Crash Bandicoot in the level where the giant rolling rock is following him and he has to make it to the checkpoints without getting crushed.

As my heart was pounding and my legs were pumping at gear 7, my mind suddenly flashed back to a time last semester when I was in a similar situation. I was pedaling along completely innocently when I decided to change lanes. I slowly made my way over to the right lane when SMACK! HONNNKKK! I had actually ran into a Silver Line! Confused, scared, and embarrassed, I pedaled back into the left lane and turned down a different street just to escape the situation.

That's when I suddenly realized; Every story good or bad, has its silver lining.

I wonder how many times a day people comment "wish there was a dislike button" and "wish there was a love button" on the FB. You all know that if Facebook granted this wish, you'd all get your panties in a wad and start complaining about how much easier it was with just a like button. One, they'd have to sort it out (1 person likes this, 4 people love this, 2 people dislike this). I can already picture the drrrama. It would be like the animal scene from Mean Girls. And two, who knows what these kinds of changes could mean for our future (2 people are indifferent about this, 6 people don't know what to say, 3 people think this is "crzay driz, bitches")? Let's just just stick with the like button and our comments (for now). Our cyber lives are already "crzay" enough.

Alright comfy cornerers - now, those of you who know me know that I am a pretty patient, nice person, and it takes a great deal to really make me crack. The ladies at 27 last night crossed that line. Not only did they cross the line, they crossed two and a half hours of line (after closing time) and then they boxed up some line to go, and then they had 18 glasses of line and asked for refills of line after we had already shut down the line. I've tried to keep my posts funny and ironic, but this one is going to get ugly. Parental advisory - Prepare yourselves as I pay tribute to "the bitchy waiter." On the millionth chance that either of you ladies is reading this, take this as a hint and never come back.

Things I wanted to say to the ladies at 27:

1. This booth was made for normal sized people. You're both so fat that your entrees came with two sides of boobs.
2. No you can't have that six person booth just because you "have a lot of bags."
3. Yes, our small cravings appetizers are small, that's why they have small in the title.
4. The small cravings are clearly all too small for your fat asses so get a regular appetizer and stop making me describe the portion size of each one.
5. Don't make me stand around for 5 MINUTES while you finally decide you'd like "a Diet Coke" (Diet Pepsi better be fine, cause I'm not even gonna ask, cause I don't have another 5 minutes).
6. Too fucking bad your appetizer "didn't have enough avocado in it." It was probably for the best.
7. No I can't give you a half order of another appetizer for free, you ate the whole THING! You didn't even leave proof that anything was wrong with it!
8. No, we only allow guests to have a couple pieces of bread, not a couple loaves (Not exaggerating, wish I was).
9. Yes, the pastas are all good, fucking DECIDE ALREADY! I HAVE OTHER TABLES!! I DON'T WANNA HEAR ABOUT YOUR THEORIES AND EXPERIENCES WITH PESTO!!!
10. No, we don't do free desserts on birthdays (actually, yes we do, but you don't deserve a free dessert)
11. I don't care that PF Chang's does free desserts, we don't
12. I don't care why your other daughter wasn't able to make it or that she's in finals or that she doesn't like goat cheese or that she was in The Music Man or that she just saw American Idiot (p.s. you only "absolutely loved " American Idiot because you are both American idiots.)
13. Stop asking me for more bread!!!
14. We start charging for refills after number 8.
15. Don't call me over to hand me your empty plate, I'll get it without your prompting.
16. We closed 45 minutes ago ...IHAVESHITTODOANDIWANNAGOHOMESOLEAVE!
17. Have a terrible evening and never come back. You made me physically and mentally exhausted and tipped 10 percent. Just...go...die...
18. Oh yeah, and, your chain smoker voice was like a chainsaw to my eardrums. Stop smoking 7 packs a day.

Things I actually said to table 27:

1. What can I get for you ladies today?
2. Yes, of course.
3. Oh, happy birthday!
4. Have a lovely evening!

So, curiosity got the better of me and I finally decided to seek out my celebrity doppelganger. I know, I am a little late for this...doppelganger week on the FB was like ages ago, omg. lolz. But, as I have mentioned before, I am very rarely, if ever, on top of fads. So I threw my picture into one of those face recognition things on the web (just Google "find my doppelganger" and a bunch will pop up) and I was stunned to see the face of Aung San Suu Kyi. After conducting a thorough research (on Wikipedia) I discovered that she is a Burmese politician. The resemblance is striking...


I was confused, then offended, then curious, and then finally, understanding washed over me like the oil is washing over the poor fish in the Gulf; I can't escape being Asian.

So I have a disability. My brain is completely unable to filter really corny jokes and they come out of my mouth before I can even have a chance to stop them. Many people have informed me that my sense of humor is equivalent to that of a 40ish-year-old father. Here are some examples of late...

1. On my first day at the restaurant I was waiting on a table and two women ordered coffee. The first woman said "I'll have the decaf" and the second woman, chuckling, said "And I'll have the caff." I grinned smugly and said "So you'd like a baby cow?" And she stared back at me blankly and said "No, I'd like caffeinated coffee." I responded with a "Yes, ma'am."

2. On my way out the door today at work my friend Fro said "See you later!" and before my stupid brain could filter it I said "CPK ya later!"

3. At Uno's last night, Chris ordered a Long Island Iced Tea-esque drink and the waiter said "I'm gonna have to see some ID" and I responded "I'm gonna have to see some ICED TEA!"

I really need to learn how to think before I speak.

Some things that really annoy me when other people do them, but I do them too...

1. When people respond to a greeting incorrectly. For instance...

Me: Good morning!
Annoying person: Fine and you?

2. When people ask you a question but clearly aren't interested in the answer because they are busy texting. For instance...

AP: How was the trip?
Me: Oh man, it was so relaxing. I definitely needed to get out of this place.
AP: (Long, long pause while they text) Yeah, I bet.

3. When people walk around with huge umbrellas blocking their line of vision, completely oblivious to the fact that the sidewalk is a shared space, so everyone else on the sidewalk has to jump into the wet street to avoid them.

4. People who repeatedly use the weather as a conversation filler. It's fine to use this once, but not multiple times. For instance...

AP: OMG, it is SUCH a pretty day.

(several lines of conversation)

AP: I just can't get over how beautiful it is today!

(several more line of convo)

AP: The weather is just so nice right now!

Come on people! Let's try and be a little more creative with conversation fillers. I mean, sure, we all know that there will be lulls in the conversation. But why don't we all make a pact to use something a little more original instead of the weather. I, for instance, am going to start using Lady Gaga's new "Alejandro" video as a conversation filler.

AP: The weather is just so...

Me: (abruptly cutting off AP) HAVE YOU SEEN GAGA'S NEW VID!?! OMG I was like confused, turned on, and disgusted all at the same time!

So this post is two-fold. I just finished a two day, 17 hour solo drive from NC to Boston (it was actually quite enjoyable because of my handy book on tape which kept me occupied, I highly recommend "The Magicians" by Lev Grossman. It's like Harry Potter with sex scenes. hehehe). Along the journey I made it a goal to find a Chic-fil-A because that was the one Southern luxury I had yet to enjoy on my trip home. As I was passing through West Virginia, I found one, and to my delight (and by delight I mean horror) it was family night with magician Michael T. (FAMILY NIGHT AT CHIC-FIL-A!!). He was a very rotund man in a blue plaid outfit.

Now, in my attempt to find out more about "Michael T" I did a little Google search. I'm a little ADD, so I left my computer after a failed search attempt. A couple hours later I came back to my computer to do a little Facebook stalking when I saw this in the corner of my browser.


That is what I decided to throw into Google to find this man! (on the one billionth chance that you are reading, Michael T...I apologize) Now, this happens to me quite often so I thought it would be worth writing about. People often borrow my computer and there are embarrassing searches in my search bar. I am the type of person that Googles everything so there are often very strange things up there. So if you ever borrow my computer and find that I searched for something really weird or gross, DON'T JUDGE! You probably Google weird things too. You don't know the circumstances. As a result, I never judge what searches are remembered by other people's computers.

Anywho, I found the man and I found his website. The website says it all I think. Not only does he do magic, he also does motivational speaking and motivational magic (Wha?!). This just makes me think of the vastness of our country and how many crazy people there are out there. Why can't more people be normal like me? Guess we'll never know. We'll just never know.

When I visit home (Asheville, North Carolina) I not only find myself slipping into a Southern drawl, eating excessive amounts of barbecue, and walking slower, I also find myself phoning in the Southern charm. I smile and wave at people I don't know, I say hello to perfect strangers, I laugh warmly and genuinely, I hold doors for elderly people, I patiently wait for pedestrians to cross before going (and I wave and smile at them) - in general, I am the perfect example of Southern hospitality! For instance, today at Fuddruckers the man next to me at the condiments station said "Itsa lookin lack they're runnin outta lettuce" and I responded "Ain't that the truth! Seems like we've got a real problem on our hands" (smiles, laughs). It is a very real thing, folks. Waitresses call you "honey" and "darlin" and they sit down at the table with you. People in stores are genuinely eager to help you ("Oh my GOD! I can't BELIEVE that bracelet broke! I am SO sorry. Let me see what I can do for you.") It is almost an infectious disease. Here's the kicker, though...it's all a facade.

That's right, it's as deceiving as the pictures of food at McDonald's. Behind every smiling, comforting Southern personality is a bitter, cynical Northern personality - but it's worse than that - they also have shotguns. When Southern folks are angry, watch out. You might not survive. My theory is that people in the North are genuinely bitter and self-centered on a day to day basis, so when they get really upset, it's not much different from when they're happy. In the South, everyone bottles their anger until the last possible moment and then KAPOW!!! The shotguns are out, the John Deere is a runnin' and the hound dogs are growlin. ("GET YOUR ASS OFF MY PROPERTY YOU TRAILER TRASH BIMBO!") Once, my dog got a hold of one of my neighbor's chickens...woo boy...out came the shot gun, and six months (and several thousand dollars) later we had a three legged dog. And in every day life, my neighbor is the sweetest woman you could ever meet, always able to spare a cup of sugar, but touch her chickens...it's a slippery slope.

Southern comfort? Think again folks.

Ladies and gentlemen, blogging to you live from Asheville, North Carolina; a mountainous place where the people are a little older, the traffic moves a little slower, and there is no shortage of Southern hospitality. It is (drum roll please) my hometown (cymbal crash). So Imma gonna be havin' a coupla blogs about da South comin' atcha. This first one right here is gonna be about da food. There are three things I must absolutely have when I leave my Boston cave and visit the land of trees and fresh air: Mexican food, Chic-fil-A and barbecue. (Mexican food because downtown Boston has absolutely zero authentic Mexican restaurants and Chic-fil-A because it's just bomb, nuff said). And the only place east of the Mississippi you can get the best BBQ in the world (figure that out) is 12 Bones, servin' up damn good corn puddin, the best baked beans, mouth waterin mac 'n cheese and a rack of ribs that'll make the staunchest vegetarian drool. Most importantly though, witness below what every restaurant in the world should offer.

That right there is a can of sugar with a hint of black tea and it's the finest beverage your tongue can experience. And folks, your gonna need this icy cold refreshment after you enjoy the most (ful)filling plate of Southern food you'll ever see.

There it is ya'll. From my home to yours. That isn't just any flavoring on those ribs, that's blueberry chipotle. Hold your applause for just a minute. The best thing about 12 Bones is its unique way of blending traditional barbecue with a twist of local flavors.They also have spicy jamaican jerk, strawberry jalepeno, and brown sugar rub (cue applause). The 12 Bones experience is the epitome of Southern living. The food, the service, the customers all adhere to the unspoken rules of Southern comfort and hospitality (they should be paying me right now to write this). If I could inject their barbecue sauce into my bloodstream, I would. As far as comfy corners go, this is one of the comfiest. Stay comfy kids.

I thought of that title last night as I was drifting off to dream during sleep logic. I thought, "my, how clever I am" and then I laughed like a little girl for about five minutes, hugged my pillow and fell asleep (am I crazy?)

So, I am not typically on top of the fads. I started playing with yo-yo's long after they were cool to play with, I never collected Pokemon, I started wearing baggy jeans just about when skinny jeans were the new thing, it took me a long time to start updating my fb status, omg...it took me so long to get the hang of internet lingo, lol :D, and I still have not hopped on the Twitter train. BUT, I have officially caught on with a fad while it still is in heat (poor metaphor? perhaps...). I wear (drum roll, please) shape bracelets!!! Witness these other cool kids that know where it's AT! They are so friggin' awesome! You can like, wear them on your wrist and nobody knows what shape they're gonna make until you take it off. Witness the transformation below.

Of course, with all fads there are the haters. Chris says "BRACELETS SHOULD FIT SNUGLY AROUND THE CIRCUMFERENCE OF YOUR WRIST!" And Laura, ever the practical one, says "I can't believe someone is making money off of shaped rubber bands!" But buzz off haters, I enjoy my deformed bracelet. I have a friend at work with a banana as well and when I see her I say "BANANA PHONE" and we start talking on our bracelets. Those are cool points you can't buy. My first ever shape bracelet was a penguin...but, he broke and now he just looks like a squiggly line...
So, to all my gurls out there with shapesies, gimme a buzz and we'll have a trading party. ; ) ROFL! (See, I'm good)

There are many different types of logic. There is, of course, your everyday, fully-conscious logic that you rely on to get things done and to move about your life, but there are also subcategories. Allow me to explain. There is high-logic (after a few turns of the cauldron) which is when you make brilliant connections between the tree growing behind your apartment and the hierarchy of social classes in modern-day America. There is drunk-logic when you have had a decent amount of wine, gin, beer, and whiskey all in one sitting and you suddenly think "Well, I've had so much alcohol, might as well just keep drinking!" There is sleep-logic, when you awake suddenly on a Saturday morning and in a sleepy daze you bust your ass to get ready for work only to realize that you don't work on Saturdays. And then, there is the rare, but very potent summer-logic.

Summer logic is...

1. waking up at 9am and thinking "I should get up now or I'll feel gross for the whole day" and then subsequently falling back asleep, waking up at noon, and feeling gross and lethargic all day.
2. thinking "Oh I have so many errands to do and things that I should accomplish" and then calling up a friend to go out for drinks.
3. not wearing sunscreen even though you're Irish with freckles.
4. spending far too much time watching entire seasons of that TV show you always wanted to watch.
5. eating dinner at 11pm.
6. putting off homework until a week before school starts and then complaining about how much work it is.
7. doing just as little laundry as you did during the school year despite the extra free time.
8. feeling tired all day because you got too much sleep.
9. spending money on useless things and then complaining about not making enough money.
and, finally...
10. finding that instead of drinking once a week, you are sober once a week.

Summer's a tough time comfy cornerers! Don't be fooled by its innocently warm weather and its inviting patios. It is seductive and dangerous.