The Comfy Corner

3am on 8th Avenue in Hell's Kitchen. My good friend Tony let out a long sigh. "New York City..." he remarked as we were strolling to the nearest gay club in our tight pants and leather jackets, our heads buzzing from the poor choices we had already made that evening. I nodded my head in approval and started laughing uncontrollably. There comes a point in every New Yorker's time here when they realize that they can simply sum up all of their NYC experiences with a sigh and a "New York City." I have realized that the things that I rave and complain about on a daily basis are essentially always the same. And so, I find, it is easiest to just sum it all up with a sigh or a sassy lip smack or an eye roll or a "New York City." It's a real time saver. No need to waste breath on things that everyone is already well aware of and on board with. One of my biggest eye roll moments happened a few weeks ago.

I was in a "getting things done" kind of mood. Sun glasses on. Mariah Carey in my earbuds. There was pep in every step. I was walking on air! I decided that I should take advantage of this momentum by finding a nearby coffee shop and getting some work done. I had my computer and a good attitude so the possibilities were endless. I found a local, organic coffee shop (take THAT, Starbucks) and, to my delight, they served a very bougie, very delicious pour over coffee. I am a bit of a coffee snob, so the fact that they had Guatemalan pour over coffee really turned me on. I got my cup of coffee, found a quiet corner in the back of the cafe by the window, pulled out my laptop, and before I could open up a Word document and take that first, heavenly sip of my coffee, a gentleman from the counter rushes over to me and says, "I'm sorry sir. We don't allow laptops here. It's kind of our thing. We want people to be more human here." To which I shut my laptop and responded with the biggest eye roll I have ever given in my life. What is more human than using a laptop?! How much more ridiculous can this city get??? This "rule" that this coffee shop decided to have quickly jumped to the top of my list of "things that make me roll my eyes." It even beat the time that I saw a dog wearing tennis shoes in the Upper West Side and his owner looked at me and snarkily said, "These paws haven't touch pavement in seven years." Congrats, sir. Ugh, I was in a perfectly good mood and this coffee shop ruined it all. I think now is a good place to mention that the name of the cafe was, "Cafe Grumpy." Aptly named, right?

To top it all, after the shutting of my laptop and the eye roll, the man sitting beside me leaned over shaking his head and said, "New York City..." He knew. We all know. Stay comfy y'all.

I recently have been spending a great deal of time in Tribeca. For those of you who aren't familiar, it is a small neighborhood in NYC. It stands for "Triangle Below Canal" and it is literally a little triangular neighborhood just below Canal street where the rich, artist folks live. A paradox, right? Rich and artist? I honestly have no idea where any of their money comes from, but the residents of Tribeca (including Beyonce, okay? Excuse me.) are some of the most fascinating people I've ever met. Just imagine every character in the TV Show, "Girls." Here are a few of my favorite overheards:

1) "If I told you that I was actually a huge celebrity in Sweden could I get a discount?" - Rich girl whose daddy probably cut her off

2) "What if I told you I was pregnant? Do you have a pregnant discount?" - Same rich girl
"I hope you're not pregnant, because you've had 5 mimosas." - Me

3) "I haven't been in anything for a long enough time now that someone actually stopped me on the street and asked me to take a picture of THEM!" - Renee Zellweger

4) Said nonchalantly "Oh yeah, I almost forgot, your grandpa gave you five hundred dollars for your birthday." Pulls out a white envelope of cash. "Do you want it now or should I hold on to it?"

The son, equally non-chalantly, "Yeah, just hold onto it."

5) "We can drop by the candy shoppe right after the Balloon Saloon, honey." - A mom

6) "No, absolutely not, you cannot get the berries. You can have a cone of ice cream but no berries." -Questionable Tribeca Parenting?

7) "I have so many tiny hats, it's ridiculous." -Asian woman

Did you see that episode of "30 Rock" guest starring John Hamm as the beautiful guy who turns out to be really stupid but no one really cares because he is so handsome that he gets everything he wants and deludes himself into thinking that he is actually talented and smart when in reality he's a moron? Well, I did see it. And I've been thinking about that a lot recently. It's what Liz Lemon called, "the bubble." Pretty people reside in the bubble and are blissfully ignorant as they enjoy such things as tickets to the theatre, tables at dinner, and free appetizers. When I heard about this, I thought, "Ugh, I know people like that. I hate those people." But then, something happened that made me realize that I MIGHT BE IN THE BUBBLE!!

I was attempting to get tickets to see "Follies" with Kevin. Stupidly, we slept in and got there way too late. The man informed us that they had already sold all the rush tickets. We were crushed. It was our last chance to see this amazing musical. But then, the guy took one look at the cute gay couple in front of him yearning for an evening of Bernadette singing Sondheim and he said, "Well, let me see what I can do for you guys." And then he sold us orchestra center seats for only 39 dollars saying, "Don't tell anyone I did this for you. These tickets are normally 110 or more." A rush of empowerment flooded over me because I suddenly realized what it felt like - inside the bubble.

Then, the downward slide began. I realized that as long as I look presentable and dress appropriately, I could probably use my looks to get all sorts of things! I could walk into almost any restaurant and use the bathroom without actually being a patron. I could comb my hair and waltz into a theatre at intermission and catch Act Two without a ticket. I could even charm my way into getting a free burger if I wanted! Ugly, homeless people wouldn't be able to get away with things like that, right!? Then, the horrible thought came to me, "Life must be so much harder for ugly people!" ... YUCK! WHO AM I!?! JENNA MARONEY!? Apparently, yes I am. I've joined the bubble. Now that I have reached the level of beauty and confidence that has put me in the bubble, I must deal with the consequences of feeling pity for those of lesser greatness. *Sigh* Life's hardships, I suppose. But, I'm still of humble upbringing so whether you're in the bubble or not, I wish you the comfiest of corners.

Like the naive middle-class, half-Asian boy that I was, I grew up thinking that I lived in the trashiest town in the world. I thought that downtown Asheville was a bunch of dirty hippies that never washed their hair. In fact, I covered my food for fear of bugs jumping off their dreadlocks and onto my plate. I thought that Fairview (the smaller, less glamorous town where my house is) contained the most amount of rednecks per square mile than any other town in the world. And I thought, stupidly, that if I moved to the North, I would forever escape stupidity and poor driving. This weekend, it finally dawned on me how wrong I actually was.

I visited a little town called Beckley in a little state called West Virginia. It is important to note that I went to Beckley to escape the small town of White Sulphur Springs. Kevin and I needed to go to a movie theatre that showed more than one movie a week and Beckley was the closest metropolis. When we arrived, I was thrilled to spot a Chili's. Chili's and Chic-Fil-A are quite possibly my two favorite places in the world. When we walked in, however, I quickly realized that we were not going to blend in well. The eyes of West Virginian judgement stared right through my fitted blue H&M polo with white piping and right into my soul. The look in their eyes read, "Ya'll ain't from around these parts, are ya?" I felt a slight shudder of discomfort but I couldn't quite find the words to describe it. When we went to the movie theatre, though, I gazed at the poorly fitted pants draped around too-big waists. I gazed at greasy hair tied up in greasy pony tails. I gazed at all the "Tapout" shirts and zip-up hoodies wrapped around women with pores big enough to fry chicken in and I found the words that had previously slipped my mind: white trash. Kevin turned to me and said, "Can we go back to the car?" I nodded quickly because we weren't from around these parts.

When I drove back into the beautiful mountains of North Carolina, I realized that Asheville wasn't so bad after all. People here are sensible and dress decently. There is a manageable amount of Tapout clothing and most people bathe. For the first time in a long time, I felt at home in my home. And I realized that the North isn't so glamorous as I once thought. There are a lot of stupid people there too, they just have different accents. So next time I visit home, I will make sure to leave my judgement shoes at the door.

As I slowly creep into that amorphous phase of life known as adulthood, I am starting to develop an appreciation for the finer things in life. Fine wines and cheeses, high class restaurants, and five star hotels. This may sound like a good thing at first, but I am starting to find that it is actually kind of dangerous. Or, to put it more bluntly, expensive. I visited the Greenbrier Resort and Casino a little while ago. It is self-proclaimed to be "America's Resort" and it is nestled in the beautiful mountains of West Virginia. It features all of the luxuries you might find on a five star cruise ship such as gambling, fancy restaurants, a theatre, expensive shopping, and an infiniti pool, but it also features a huge golf course, horse back riding, and croquet lawns. The clientele at this resort are some of the snobbiest, hoitiest toitiest people I have ever met in my life. For instance, I was waiting to see my friend in the resort's show, "Rockin' the Fifties" and these two old ladies had gotten there way early. One of the ladies was going on a rant, "I don't know why they don't just open up the doors already. On the cruise ships we always get to the shows early because the bingo is happening and they take up all the good seats. Then you end up sitting behind a pole or something. It's already 8:01 and they said the doors would open at 8:00. This is ridiculous." To which the other lady responded, "I have 7:59. Maybe their time is wrong." This is the extent of the worries these people have. Yet somehow, I find myself attracted to this lifestyle. I kind of wish these were the things I worried about.

I gambled for the first time at this resort. I walked into the brightly lit, tackily decorated casino. And as I stood next to giant clam fountain and listened to the tink and beeps of the slot machines, a sort of rush came over me. I let myself drown in the chatter of rich rich people and I felt, if only for a moment, like James Bond in Casino Royale. I purchased a ten dollar Malibu and coke and sat myself down at a slot machine. My blood was rushing, my back straightened, I felt like a high roller at last! I pulled a crisp, five dollar bill out of my pocket and slipped it into the machine. Approximately two minutes later the money was all gone and I was done. That's about the time when the woman next to me started screaming and jumping up and down. She had just won 8,000 dollars!!! One of the ladies working at the casino waddled over smiling with a stack of 100 dollar bills and started placing them in her hands. I picked up my rum and coke, walked away dejectedly and decided that gambling wasn't for me. I decided that as much as I love the high life, I will not be living it for quite some time. Until then, I will content myself with happy hours and 50% off sales at the Gap. Ralph Lauren can wait.

Stay comfy ya'll.

The best part about being a minority is that you are free and able to make jokes about the particular minority you belong to without having to look around first. For instance, I feel perfectly comfortable going up to tables at work and saying (In all seriousness) "Did you order the dumpring?" Or, if I make a bad driving move, I just blame it on my Asian-ness. Or if I figure out how to make the CD player switch to the auxiliary in class, I just say, "This is why every class needs an Asian." In general, I pull out the Asian jokes as often as I can. This is also why I can post pictures like this and make fun of the Boston Asians.


I literally snapped this pic 10 minutes ago as I was thinking to myself, "Wow, every Asian in the Chinatown/New England Medical Center area of Boston is carrying a pink bag." And then, sure enough, one passed by. Right after this guy passed by, I saw three or four Asian ladies with shopping carts filled with these pink bags. Apparently, they all shop at the same grocery store. Perhaps, I need to stop shopping at Trader Joe's?

The moral of the story is this - I'm usually down for any sort of Asian joke unless it becomes malicious. For instance, there was a guy in the show I was just in that point blank said to me, "It's so funny with you Asians, cause you never can tell how old you are." I was actually offended by both the comment and the smell (he smelled really bad). But that was followed by a perfectly harmless joke from another man that didn't smell bad at all, "What happens when you spin an Oriental around three times? He gets disoriented." Puns are okay, I suppose. Just avoid calling me Ching-Chang-Chong and we'll get along fine.

The only thing I hate more than Olive Garden is the commercials for Olive Garden (and the whole Khloe Kardashian and Lamar wedding, but that's for a different blog). This rant is probably a bit dated because the whole "When you're here you're family" campaign has been going on for quite some time now, but this has been bugging me for a long time and they are still coming out with newer, more infuriating commercials. They all consist of some super fake "family" all laughing at the table with the waiter saying something really vomit-y like "The usual again today, Tom?" and then some family member, wiping off the tears from the laughter, being like "Oh Tom, try something new already." Then he tries the poop ravioli with fake sauce and suddenly "I think I have a new usual!" followed by unwarranted group laughter.

Dear Olive Garden, I propose a new approach to your "When you're here you're family" campaign. A more realistic approach. A family of four is sitting at a small booth quietly eating their dinner. The sister says something like "Would you hate me if I said I was pregnant?" The mother drops her fork, the dad changes the subject by saying "Where is our damn waiter? We asked for more breadsticks like 30 minutes ago." And then the mother starts crying and the son says something like "These breadsticks rock, but they make me so gassy." He farts. No one laughs. Fade to black "Olive Garden. When you're here you're family." I would eat at a restaurant like that.

1. The alien script when asked to verify that you are a human, not a computer. That you can't read anyway. Like, it doesn't actually look like letters.

2. Your blog names being taken by stupid 12 year old girls who don't know how to make blogs and who just let them fester online, ugly and useless, only to be desperately sought 10 years later by someone who has an awesomely creative idea that he wants to share with the world! Ugh!