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Sunday, June 20th, 2010 | Author:
– Don’t you hate that?
– Hate what?
– Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit? In order to be comfortable?
– I don’t know. That’s a good question.
– That’s when you know you found somebody really special, when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute. Comfortably share silence.
For me, conversation (especially the smalltalk variety) is an anxiety filled nightmare for me.
Until I do find that really special person in which I can share an awkward silence comfortably, I try my darndest to keep the conversation going; Keep that hot potato hopping, that shark breathing by the filling the air with sound and fury.
Or else… it’s dead silence and the slow realization on my conversation partner’s face appears because she has discovered my secret. That at heart, I am nothing but a boorish philistine with nothing significant or interesting to say about anything.
Sweaty with desperation to be liked, I obsessively try to think of conversation topics beforehand and write them on notecards to refer to later. I prepare the way talk show hosts do by having prepared topics listed on notecards.
I imagine that there are those for which conversation flows easily and there are those who are well-versed in many subjects and always have an interesting witty anecdote to deliver. Essentially the image I have of Oscar Wilde at a party. Always erudite with a refined wit with which he uses to be the life of the party.
So I got the idea that I too could say something interesting on any topic if I do some research and find some conversationally interesting thing to say about anything. I decided to go through the entire dictionary and find at least 1 interesting thing to say about each and every word in the dictionary. This would serve as my conversational lubricant reference book where I could look through for sweet juicy morsels of ice breaking conversation lubricant.
I’ve tried this ambitious idea several times, always starting with “aardvark”s but never getting anywhere past it.
Somewhere in my studies of the Chinese language I got a book that has the 3000 most frequently used Chinese characters. I was looking at this book, while thinking about my conversational lubricant reference book. There are over 171,000 words in the English dictionary. But 3000 Chinese characters doesn’t sound impossible. Not only that, but it could help me learn Chinese by thinking up interesting things to say about each character. Moreover, each Chinese character doesn’t necessarily map exactly to one word as many Chinese words are made up of several characters. This means I can get a little more freedom for interpretation of a “word” to find interesting things to say about it.
So now I will begin my Chinese Conversational Lubricant Reference Book!
Wikipedia says topics of conversation are categorized into 4 major categories:
  • Conversations about subjective ideas, which often serve to extend understanding and awareness.
  • Conversations about objective facts, which may serve to consolidate a widely-held view.
  • Conversations about other people (usually absent), which may be either critical, competitive, or supportive. This includes gossip.
  • Conversations about oneself, which sometimes indicate attention-seeking behaviour.In the real world, few conversations fall exclusively into one category.

I will mostly try to come up with some the first two types (with opinions and facts) as the other two are personal. I definitely feel that “Conversations about oneself” is almost always going to be preferable to the others as it reveals much more about yourself to your conversation partner especially if its a personal story.

I will go through each Chinese Character in my 3000 Chinese character dictionary, explain its meaning and try to come up with several interesting facts or opinions about the word. These will be archived as blog posts and can be used as a reference for whenever I feel there have been too many awkward silences.


WikiHow Article: How to Start a Converastion When You Have Nothing to Talk About

Tuesday, December 29th, 2009 | Author:

This is very messy and it doesn’t know if it wants to be a poem or not. I’d like to maybe clean this up eventually but here it is now.

O’ tangled beard of nerdy guy
I mourn thy untimely shaving
thou were the envy of  hobos, unibombers, & wookies.
ZZ Top are still raving!
Now trim, clean and proper, for employers most impressed
but lost the clarion call of  “I am probably a rapist.”

Thick and furry like the armpit of a biker
But who do you think you are now?
Captain William Thomas Riker?

Thou tangled bird nest strands was so good for stroking,
facilitating deep thought
a fine companion to a countenance wrought in contemplation
but more often a deep fart.

bits of last Tuesday’s filet o’ fish stored for today’s snack
stroke it fingers ’til entangled in it like a Chinese finger trap
Thou made my pubes green with envy
instead of the usual green with infection from yeast

Van Dyke, chin straps, goatees and mutton chops
soul patch, neck beards, The Village People’s cop
So incredibly furry; your mouth so hard to find
just like the asshole on my behind.

I need not shed a tear
for the beard is everywhere
I see it in that tortured strand of hair grasping for air from a blackened mole atop the very end of a witch’s nose.
I see it performing a backstroke in my clam chowder to say a friendly hello.
I see it clinging to the collective pile on the edge of a public urinal.
Long may you strewn, good beard.
Long may you strewn

Category: Works  | Tags:  | Leave a Comment
Wednesday, September 16th, 2009 | Author:

Drawn in High School.

This is an absolutely geeky joke that I think only biology/entomology nerds would get.

Never Ask A Bee For Directions

I think if I have time I’d like to revise the cartoon to make it more obvious that the bee is doing a very involved dance routine. Something you probably can’t see but there is a very small tattoo on the bee’s stomach that says “Disco God.”

If you don’t understand this joke then watch this:

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Category: Drawings, Works  | Tags: , ,  | Leave a Comment
Thursday, May 14th, 2009 | Author:

Douche Bag.

I’m curious as to why this word has made such a resurgence back into the modern vernacular and how the meaning of the word is evolving/devolving.

I can remember being very confused by all the 1980’s commercials for douches. As a kid, I didn’t understand why woman constantly needed this clean fresh feeling (…down there *wink) so much so that they needed to talk about it with their mothers.

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Somehow people got to thinking this word should be an insult.

While I eventually came to understand what an actual douche bag is, I wasn’t quite sure if I was supposed to be insulted by it. The thing itself serves a specific utilitarian purpose even thought it is used on special lady parts. I feel that calling someone a “tampon” would probably be worse than a “douchebag.” I guess the word itself kinda sounds ugly despite being French. Dooosssh.

I remember hearing it in the movie E.T. when one of Elliot’s brother’s friends said it as an insult with the mother chiding him with,”No douchebag talk here.” I guess it gained popular usage as an insult from a particular SNL sketch called “Lord Douchebag.”

The way it was used in the 80’s seemed like there was no particular definition for douchebag. It seemed to serve as a blanket insult that seemed to generally be used for a replacement for “asshole.” Douche bag would not get you bleeped like “asshole” would.

By the end of the 80s, everyone eventually came to learn that douching is NOT a healthy thing to do for woman; that it upsets the natural fauna going on down there and may lead to some pungent guacamole on that taco. So those incessant Massengill ( “Massengill” a word equally ugly sounding as “douche”) commercials disappeared.

We pretty much lived the 90’s without hearing anyone really using “douchebag.”

But something happened in the late half of the 2000’s where the word suddenly had a resurgence. Some trace it to John Stewart of The Daily Show when he used it on Robert Novak.
Then it spread to other television shows and media. It’s usage again appeared to be used on “assholes.” Suddenly I was hearing it everywhere again, coming out of the mouths of friends and associates.

Then somewhere down the line… the definition of the word evovled away from the generic term for asshole.

I think it somehow coincided with the advent of Kevin Federline.

Suddenly, people developed a defined vision of what a douchebag is… K Fed. A douchebag no longer was just any asshole. It was a certain type of asshole.
I think people were expecting Britney Spears to marry someone else. When everyone saw that she was married to that… they found that the only way to describe that was to define a new word for it.

From Radar magazine:

“Douchebaggery is really an outgrowth of ‘Guido’ style, but it’s rapidly spread through hip-hop, Ed Hardy, and Armani Exchange to become the dominant pollutant of modern culture,” says Jay Louis, who is indeed the expert.

What it really means is still very unclear. I think its still in the realm of “I know it when I see it.” But it seems far more focused than the previous generic “asshole” definition.

It seems to mean someone who does something very unnecessary because he thinks its cool.
Wearing sunglasses indoors. ALWAYS wearing a bluetooth headset. Wearing a jacket but NOT wearing a shirt. Doing kissy face poses to a camera.

I live in fear of being an accidental douche bag since all of the above things can happen if you’re just forgetful. Accidently forget to take off your bluetooth headset and you just might be called a douchebag. So watch out!

For an erudite examination of the word please visit:

For what our culture thinks douchebags are visit:

Category: Works  | Tags:  | Leave a Comment
Wednesday, May 06th, 2009 | Author:

There’s a chapter in Jonah Leher’s How We Decide where he talks about overthinking, using as an example a golfer who had an amazing start to a game but completely choked as the game went on.

He apparently was overthinking every move he made while taking his stroke.
At some point your muscles will just know what to do and you do yourself a disservice by overthinking.

It’s probably very true.

I was playing Wii Sports today and while I’m bowling, letting my bowling arm muscles do the work, this is what is going through my head:

Allen Funt…. hmmm.. Funt… what an awful sounding last name. But that’s kinda weird because it’s basically the word “fun” (which is a very nice word) and adding a “t” at the end. Fffffffuuuuuhhhnnn…t  … Yep. It’s definitely the “t”. I just funted. That sounds gross… I funted. Why am I even thinking of this man? I never really watched that awful Candid Camera TV show. I barely remember the show in the 90’s when Allen’s son hosted the show with Suzanne Somers. That was Peter Funt (still sounds awful.. funt)… In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Allen Funt on the original Candid Camera. What does it matter anyway. Hidden camera shows are pretty godawful. Funt. It’s like combining the f-word with the c-word. That’s probably why it sounds so awful….
Oh my God. I just scored 279 points in bowling.

I think I might be able to use Allen Funt in other situations I am expected to perform.
Thanks Allen!

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Thursday, April 30th, 2009 | Author:

Stop Staring at my Breasts

Drawn in High School.
I’m kinda embarrassed by how obvious this joke is.
I just assume every kid who finds out that that part of a chicken is called “breast” has this image in their head.

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Sunday, April 12th, 2009 | Author:

Breast-feeding in public is like a solar eclipse—it’s natural, it’s beautiful, but you’re not allowed to look at it.
–Homer Simpson

I think it’s pretty cool to be able to breast feed.
I’d like to be able to high-five a woman for breast feeding to show her how totally awesome I think breast feeding is.
But I guess I’m not supposed to look at it and she probably has a baby in her arms so she couldn’t really high five me.

But the idea of being able to produce food out of my body…

If I could deep fry potato chips in my stomach or produce m&m’s out of my ears…It’s like a being a human vending machine.
Is she even aware what an awesome superpower this is?!

If I somehow ended up with the powers of breast feeding in some freak radiation accident (or a visit to a sex change doctor in Thailand)…
I would first think… what a privilege it is that I get to do this.

Occasionally I might choose to abuse this power.
If I’m feeling lazy in bed but I needed to get a nice warm glass of milk…
Ploop… squirt squirt and Yummy yum!

If I’m at a delightful dinner party I could finally be the hero who saves the evening when something dreadful happens.
The lovely hostess wishes to serve a charming dessert plate of Oreo cookies. The guests, rapt with anticipation of wrapping their mouths around a chocolaty bit of heaven and cream dipped in milk, are all startled when the hostess reappears out of the kitchen screaming,”Oh dear! We haven’t any milk!”

Everyone would then turn to me and my giant milkers and I would rise up to the challenge by nonchalantly flipping my breasts out and assuredly declare, “not a problem. I’ve got the white stuff you need.”
Ploop..Ploop… squirt squirt and Yummy yum!

This would be a far cry from my normal dinner party experiences in which I’m the only Asian who did not seem to eat much of the food at the party. Then the hostess’ daughter declares,”Oh my God! The dog is gone!” and all the guests turns their heads towards me.
Stupid people. Do they even know how long it takes to cook a dog?!

At some point I would realize that I could use my breast feeding superpowers for the good of all mankind and not just myself and friends.
I would start to be totally generous with it.
You looking hungry over there..
Ploop..Ploop… squirt squirt and Yummy yum!

My milk can nourish the entire world…
I’ll be all around in the dark – I’ll be everywhere.

Wherever there’s a little starving African child without the energy to fight the flies… I’ll be there.
Wherever there’s a pothead who’s got the munchies, Cap’N Crunch but no milk…I’ll be there.
Wherever there’s a poor hobo screaming about the cobras into the darkness … I’ll be there.
Wherever Sean Penn is receiving an Oscar… I’ll be there.
Ploop..Ploop… squirt squirt and Yummy yum!

I may eventually feel that this power is too much work (and it makes my nipples hurt like hell).
The throngs of desperate tit-clutching milk sucklers would surround me and I would have doubts about being a superhero.

But I would come around and realize that with this great power comes great responsibility.

Suck on that.

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Sunday, April 05th, 2009 | Author:

I don’t remember why I made this. But it was made in Nov-2006.

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Tuesday, March 10th, 2009 | Author:

This post is hopefully the beginning of a series on special relationships.

There are special relationships in a boy’s life that affect him. Sometimes you don’t realize the significance of the relationship until it’s over.

I started noticing him in the office…

We would always arrive at the bathroom door together at the same time.  We would have the politeness struggle of trying to open the door for the other person first. Then we’d arrange ourselves in front of a urinal, always following the standard rule that you always take the urinal farthest away from the other person.

It’s a good rule. You avoid any potential of urine splashback and decrease the chance of an accidental glance of what kind of heat your neighbor’s packing.

No words are exchanged, only the sound of tinkle.

A wash of the hands, out the door and on with our days with nary another thought about what just transpired. These brief anonymous encounters occur every day in the bathroom and no one thinks of anything about the other person peeing at the same time as you.

I certainly didn’t notice anything about him.
Until something happened.

I noticed that during the course of the day, with every single trip I made to the bathroom, he was there with me.

Maybe it”s just a fluke…Maybe it’s just today.
But it turns into a week.

Maybe I’ll drink more today. That should throw him off. Yet there he was.

Two weeks…. A month….Always there peeing at the same time. Every awkward side glance filled with his presence.

This can’t be happening!
How could our daily rituals of liquid intake always occur at the same rate. How could our bladder sizes be the same?

At some point you can no longer deny what is going on between you two.
You can’t fight it. Give in.

You are Pee Buddies.
Somehow fate conspired to have the  two of us reach complete pee synchronicity.

Instead of being ashamed, it should be embraced.
Women have synching menstrual cycles amongst their closest friends. For men,  pee synchronicity is the closets thing we have.

Photo was entered in the 2008 Australian Human Rights Photo Competition

This photo was entered in the 2008 Australian Human Rights Photo Competition

I felt like I needed to say,”hi” to my pee buddy. Was he even aware that we always pee at the same time? Does he even think about me as much as I think about him?

How do I even broach the subject and express these feelings I’ve never felt before toward another man?

I started out by changing the standard urinal selection rule and decide to go one less further than the farthest urinal. I’m one urinal length closer to him. What a thrill! I nervously side glance to make sure he’s cool with it.

He was.
Each time I was 1 urinal closer. Each time the sound of his pee tinkling against the white porcelain urinal louder and louder. Until, officially you become Pee Buddies.

It was never spoken but was well understood by both of us that our Pee Buddy relationship only exists in the bathroom. Outside the bathroom, we did not acknowledge each other.

But such a restriction doesn’t matter because he was the coolest pee buddy ever.
We’d give each other high fives after a good pee. I remember one time, my pee buddy thumbs in the direction of the douchebag in the urinal far over who pees like he’s being frisked by a police officer (both hands against the wall, leaning forward). My Pee Buddy then proceeds to do a hilarious unflattering impression.
He completely deserved the coveted PeeBuddy Award for that.

But now he’s gone.
I’m in a new office now.

I generally end up peeing alone…
I’m sad.

I never had the guts to tell my Pee Buddy that I was leaving to find work elsewhere and that we could no longer pee together….
or that I dreamed that one day we would be in a world where we could pee together all the time…
or that I thought maybe one day we could reach a point where we could hold hands together while we pee….

or ultimately share the same urinal where our two pee streams could becomes one.

So if you find yourself peeing at the same time as someone else, or even pooping at the same, take notice. Treasure the time together. Hold your hand up to the connecting wall of the stall…

and CHERISH it

for it may gone in an instant.

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Sunday, March 01st, 2009 | Author:

Let’s all die in peace.

Your allotted time has been used up and no matter how much we all miss you, you are gone.
Let’s not get dig up your corpse, prance it around to do whatever we want with you.

I would think that the people among the living would give at least that much respect to the deceased.

But apparently not:
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Hey John Lennon !

You shouldn’t even know what the hell a laptop is!

Who the hell decided it was OK to reanimate a corpse to have him shill laptops?!

Yoko Ono.. the corpse ventriloquist.


I tried with music but I guess I failed so let's do it with laptops! ... and don't forget to buy my hit album Give Peace A Chance: International Mixes on iTunes NOW!

They asked Yoko for permission to do this.

Why does Yoko get to decide what’s done to her dead husband?

There’s nothing said in marriage vows to suggest you can control the desecration of your spouse’s image after death.
It’s ’til Death do us part.

John’s dead. That’s it.

Any promises made during the marriage are null and void now.
He’s in the afterlife having the time of his afterlife, unencumbered by the marriage vows he took in this life.
While here amongst the living we’re taking his image and using it for whatever we want.

YOKO! STOP messing with John’s legacy and take the advice of the McCartney/Lennon song:

Until…. maybe after 100 years.

At some point historical icons become so removed from the modern world that it becomes kinda hilarious to desecrate historical figures.

A couple of good examples:

The Conan O’Brien: Lincoln Money Shot

Abraham Lincoln is probably one of the world’s greatest leaders of all time… but it’s been 200 years and the world needed to see this:

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Mary Todd is damn lucky.

Galileo Galilei, William Shakespeare  and Ben Franklin: