You Can Dance, If You Want To. If Not, They’ll Make You. (#43)

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If you asked us how we met, and you’d get two different answers.

I’d say, “We met dancing.”

My Chinese-American fiancé Andy would say, “We met at a bar.” He’d assume a nonchalant air, but you’d see his chest puff out, just a bit, as if to say, “I’m a player. That’s how I roll, scooping up white girls at the bar, every Friday night. I have moves. No woman can resist.” Continue reading You Can Dance, If You Want To. If Not, They’ll Make You. (#43)

White Assholes (#39)

DSC_0148-2 copyOne of my favorite shows is So You Think You Can Dance. The choreography is incredible, and the level of talent among the finalists is outstanding. The one thing I hate? The auditions. Continue reading White Assholes (#39)

Bitter Tea (#28)

The Chinese-American finance brews up something to make the white girl feel better.
The Chinese-American fiancé brews up something to make the white girl feel better.

Not long after my Chinese-American fiancé proposed, I caught a nasty cold. I am sure it had nothing to do with an engagement made stressful by stubborn Chinese parents. Continue reading Bitter Tea (#28)

Summa Cum Crap (#1)

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A shadow begins to creep over our double happiness…

Today I met my boyfriend’s family. I also discovered I was unworthy of my college gradation honors.

What kind of history major doesn’t do research?

Continue reading Summa Cum Crap (#1)