If you ever worked in the entertainment industry, a movie premiere was just an extension of your workday. A 5-6 hour extension, if you added in driving and parking. 6 out of 7 movies made by my employers were terrible, but God forbid Big Boss A caught you tacitly admitting this by sneaking out. Continue reading Andy Goes to Hollywood (#14)
Office buildings in the entertainment industry are not air-conditioned for normal people. No. They are cooled to a comfortable temperature for executives who are predominantly old, white, fat, and wear suits. He who controls the industry controls the thermostat. Continue reading The Heat is On (#13)
When I told my girlfriend M that Andy and I were going to Hawaii, she started squealing, “Oh my God! He’s gonna propose! He is gonna propose!” Continue reading Romantic Hawaii, Terrifying Hawaii (#12)
Andy and I finally made it to Kauai. He’d found a lovely little B&B in Kapaa. We had our own cottage among the greenery, an island away from his Chinese parents. It was a blissful, romantic, quiet retreat.
So we left it and went hiking. Continue reading 12 Rules for Hiking in the Hawaiian Rainforest (#11)
In my white world, there are exactly two times when it is acceptable to ask how much something costs.
1) SALES. When a white person tells a friend about the great deal they got on apparel or automobiles, it is acceptable – no, mandatory – that the friend ask for both the original price and the sale price. Continue reading The Big Money Question (#10)
Three days into our trip, and my Chinese-American boyfriend’s father had spoken directly to me exactly once. This was solely to bellow, “NO!” when I went to shake his hand. I kind of understood. Jay was trying to film our arrival at the airport in Honolulu, and I broke the fourth wall by acknowledging the camera’s existence. Bad me. A day passed. Jay never spoke directly to me. Two days. Nothing. Continue reading The Patriarch Speaks (#9)
The first time I met my Chinese-American boyfriend’s parents, they were not impressed. Not by my appearance, not by the gifts I brought, and not by my conversational abilities. When Andy announced that we were going to Dim Sum with his grandmother, I was pleased. Here was my chance to show Jay and Sunny that I had some familiarity and respect for their cuisine, at least. This white girl can use chopsticks! Continue reading Dim Sum. Dim White Girl. Aw, Fork! (#8)
Three days into our trip, and I hadn’t really talked to the mother of my Chinese-American boyfriend. Sunny gave me a lei at the airport and promptly ignored me. She made sure Andy had his favorite foods, pressed Chinese herbs on him, and even insisted that he take an electric blanket back to Los Angeles, “where it is so cold.” Continue reading Chinese Mom Envy (#7)
I grew up on football. Sunday dinners at my mom’s house consisted of popcorn and ice-cream when Washington, the Broncos, or the Giants were playing. (The only thing that united various parental units was a universal hatred of the Dallas Cowboys.) There are two good things about having a mass of siblings: 1) Increased likelihood of another sibling being blamed for your crimes, and 2) Enough family members for 6 v. 6 football.
Andy’s parents were not invited to the wedding. Hallelujah!
My parents weren’t the ones getting married. Double Hallelujah!
There would be dancing at the wedding, and I had a partner. I was, for once, Team Wedding. Continue reading Hair-curling Tales of the Red Envelope (#5)