Reasons Why You Should Not Date a Man

1. He wears tighter pants than you. Always a bad sign. First of all, where is the room for his junk? That's right. Now, ladies, we don't want to get jipped in that department now do we? Mmmmhmm. And what if those tight pants that he poooouuuured himself into (and by the looks of it, spilled some), show that he has skinnier legs than you? How can you live with that injustice for the rest of your life? Can you really date a man who has prettier legs than you? I don't think so.

2. He owns a diary. In all our grossly exaggerated chickflicks, there is always the sensitive and caring boy who doesn't seem to know that he's devastatingly attractive. We all know the type. But ladies, please. Do you want to talk to a guy about his feelings? Nuh-uh. I don't need to remind you that it's all about us. Always. He just needs to shut up and listen. So when he owns a diary, it's just the first warning sign that should turn you around before you find yourself sitting on your couch Saturday nights, spoon-feeding him Decadent Double Chocolate Brownie ice cream while he sobs into your shoulder about how they cancelled Gossip Girls.

3. He knows more about Twilight than you do. First of all, he is a pansy. "Oh, baby. I'll be your Edward. Let me bite you and suck your blood. Mmm." Did I turn anybody on there? Yeah. That's right. NO. Overprotective alpha male who jumps from tree to tree? Only sexy in concept. Chances are, the boy is only pretending to be into it to get into your pants (or shall I say, jugular vein?). If not, then you are in serious danger of being murdered by a psychotic serial killer. Really? "Your blood sings me sweet lullabies." Gross.

4. He hates Lord of the Rings. He's gay. Gay, gay, gay. What straight, hetero, brawny man could ever hate Lord of the Rings? Epic battles, bro codes, and bromance in three hour doses. If he says no to Lego, you tell him to GTFO.

5. He has an unhealthy obsession with his penis. You know what I'm talking about. He feels the need to write penis everywhere. He draws penises on other people. And you notice, when you draws them, they're BIG. Think he's compensating for something? Mmmmmhmm. His noodle doodles may seem merely immature and innocuous, but they're really cries for help. Until he's happy with the equipment (or lack thereof) God's given him, you better steer clear. You may find yourself saying "Does size really matter?" for the rest of your life.

6. He makes gay jokes. One or two is fine. Heck, three or four is great too. But if "gay" is every other word coming out of his mouth, I'd say there are some insecurity issues lurking not far under the surface. "Huh..huh..that's gay." , "Get off me you homo." Afraid of enjoying life a little too much?

7. He wears socks with sandals. I'm sorry. These people need to be taken out and executed.

8. He doesn't own a television. What is this man doing with his life? Honestly, where'd you find this guy? Under a rock? In Amish paradise? Throw him BACK. What are you going to do Friday nights together. Go out? God forbid! Think about it. No cuddling in front of the TV, imagining he's McDreamy while he imagines you're Cameron. No sighing as you stroke his unmangled leg and wish wistfully that his eyes were electric blue. What kind of relationship is that? Unless you convert him, he's always going to be transmitting analog while you only receive digital. Sad.

9. He doesn't look good in a suit. James Bond. Barney Stinson. Robert Downey Jr. What do these men have in common besides being the Sex Gods of our society? They look good in suits. It's about the cut. It's about the shoulders. It's about the attitude. When I see some guys in suits, I want to cry. It's like Mommy threw the dumpling in the water and left them in there for too long. Get it tailored, for God's sake. Suits are God's gift to man (and woman), and you've just DESECRATED them. So yes. If he doesn't look good in a suit, refer him to the nearest tailor and tell him to try again.

10. His idea of a pick up line is to rub your stomach and say "Soon this will be filled with my seed."

It's Over! (:E

So I now reserve the right to make this face ---> [:E (That's right, crowned. >:])

My family is never going to let me live this down. D:

But I'm glad you guys talked me into going. What girl in her right mind doesn't want an excuse to feel pretty for a day? (And only a day. Any more than a day, and I think I would have gone insane, or broke my ankle, or both.) Thanks to all the girls who made me pretty. I know it was a colossal task. (; Hopefully, the pictures are enough to satisfy everyone for the rest of my life.

Prom was fun. I liked watching everyone go crazy on the dance floor. Inhibition. Borderline sodomy. Awesomeness. I feel like I got to know a lot of people better because we bonded over the craziness of the night. It's like getting drunk with friends. The more embarrassing things you do, the closer you feel after you've done it. It's the naughty bond.

Apparently, I am attracted to older boys that I look up to. It's scary how true that is. I guess my infatuation for Robert Downey Jr. is nothing more than physical attraction. :/ No Iron babies for Abby. -sigh- Well, I guess I can always move to Britain and start my life long mission of finding hot, available, intelligent, British-accented, Taiwanese doctors. (I thought I'd start small.)

ADVENT in a few months. I'm really excited about it. At the same time, I guess I'm a little scared that it won't be the same as it was last year. Or, that over this past year of missing it, I've somehow built up my expectations and set myself up for disappointment. Then I remind myself that God's work can never be a disappointment. I'm sure that all things will work out in the end. (:

Recently, I've been feeling a bit emo. D: I'm just tired from junior year. And what an exhausting year it's been. Two more weeks until I'm done with AP testing, and done with school forever. I'm trying to look on the bright side. Always staying one step of the raincloud behind me, less than two months before the summer sunshine disappates that nightmare. Yee!

Random Observations

Lately, I've been feeling more relaxed. It's like summer has come early. I don't know if it's this crazy heat wave, or if its just the afterglow of Easter Break, but AP tests are no longer a hurdle that I must break my back to leap over. I still don't feel like I'm prepared and I still am nowhere confident enough to say that I will get a 5 on any of them, but it's almost as if I've been making a mountain out of a molehill all year long, and now I'm finally close enough to see it for what it is.

So here's my plan for the next two weeks:
Cram for History and Chem this Friday in preparation for the SATs on May 2nd.
May 1st, study for AP Calc. After SAT, study some more.
May 7, cram for APUSH.
May 9, begin cramming for AP Chem test. Learn all the equations, memorize ions, formulas, etc.
May 12, cram for English test. Learn all the literary terms and crap in the back.
After May 13, do nothing while waiting impatiently for the summer to arrive.

I think it's because we're entering the ninth inning, and teachers are giving less homework in hopes that we'll be studying at home. (As if. Neopets, baby!) Less homework = more free time. Free time = Doing nothing, regretting it later, and depression.

For example, I should be doing my study guide right now. D:

But guys, we're almost there! The end is so near I can taste it. Literally. It tastes like FREEDOM. In two weeks, we'll be done with our Junior Year! Except for French. That's going to be a bitch forever.

Decades.

SUMMER.

BREAK IS GODLY.

I've been having a fabulous break. By fabulous, I mean that every morning I wake up at 9ish and SMILE. You know that feeling you get when you get home after an exhausting day and find out that your mother has made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and prepared a glass of warm milk just for you to dip them in? Good. Me either. But that is beside the point. I get an extra three hours of sleep, three hours that I did not realize I missed until my skin cleared up like a baby's behind. OK, maybe not like a baby's behind and more like a sandcastle, but that is also beside the point. The point is, I'm happy. I'm content with the world, content with my self, and content with my productivity/purpose. You know how rare that is these days? I haven't felt this way since I got "promoted" from Morrill. (That's right betches. Graduations for seniors.) Life is good.

I haven't had much interaction with the outside world in these past few days. I've seen Anita and Brandon for my French project, but we meet at my house and I am cocooned in my comfort zone. Pajamas and mismatched socks, anyone?

It's been Guitar Hero (sorry, resolution. You died the moment I pressed "publish post"), homework, internet, homework, shower, sleep, ever since that beautiful bell rang crystal clear across the schoolyard last friday. Mmmm. I can still hear it as if it were five days ago.

So reading Kim's blog has gotten me addicted to David Choi (You should go check him out, he's absolutely fabulous), and I spent yesterday learning "Won't Even Start". Now I've been touched by the Spirit of Music and interest has been revived in me once again. Hallelujah, I hear Salvation's Bells a-ringin'!

Today, I was returning home from dropping off my grandparents at the shuttle stop when I see this longass line of cars, red brake lights just stretching as far as the eye can see. I turn to my mom and go "What the hell?" and she doesn't even look, she's like "Tax Deadline today."

HAHAHAHAHA!

THOSE POOR BASTARDS.


So I start peering into the car windows as we drive past, and get this, they're all white. (OK, not white...they're just not Asian. I categorize all non-Asians as white unless I'm being racist.) I turn around to ask my mom where all the Asians went, when this small little running man catches my eye. I look closer. All the crossing islands are occupied by flocks of little Asian people. Where the hell did they come from? I can see some emerging from nearby neighborhoods on foot, others I see crossing the street from the Pacific Rim plaza. I could see all the cars with people inside of them going "FML!!" while all the Asian people are crossing the street, whistling, "MLR!".

That just teaches us that, when in doubt, do it the Asian way.



My sister got waitlisted for HARVARD. WOOOOOOOT.

It's Break, Betch!

Spent my first day of break working on my French Project and playing Guitar Hero.

Right now it's almost 1AM and I just finished reading a kickass House fanfiction! No porn or anything. I'm very proud of myself.

But here it is.

I am hereby pledging to stay off fanfiction for the rest of break.

Every time I feel the urge to go to livejournal.com to get my latest fix, I'll turn to my AP Calculus Review book instead.
Every time I get the slightest inclination to go looking for gay porn, I will make fabulous notecards and pray for guidance on my AP test.
Every time I crave happiness, drama, and humor from written text, I will read my Timeline book and actually start.

I can do this.

I am hereby pledging to ban myself from Guitar Hero.

All kinds. In fact, I ban myself from all Wii games. (I'm too good with loopholes.)

Until after the AP test, I will not touch the Wii. I will pretend it doesn't exist. I will walk past it and not be accosted by temptation, not be seduced by Satan, I WILL SURVIVE.

I think I can do this. Give up Livejournal until after the AP tests. I still have Facebook. I still have romance novels. I still have intense studying to do.


But that's my pledge.


I have honor.
I have dignity.
I have the will of Wesley searching for his Buttercup.

I WILL DERIVE!

Easter

What's with this random crap they make you type in the verification box?

emingra.

I mean, wtf is that?

emingra (uh-meen-gruh) - A subtropical species of platypus that stemmed from the genetic mutation of an elephant, mink, and grape.

Today marks the first day of a fresh countdown in the Wang Family. Father has begun speaking again. Will the miracles ever cease?

Cute makeup though. Not that I was eavesdropping.

SAT Is are done and over with. Never dealing with that shit again. I absolutely refuse. Ten hours of my life, wasted. Then I discover that soon they're going to chuck SAT IIs out the window. I just signed up for two. FML.

(Somewhere in the distance, Kim is going "MLR!")

So prom. It's a dilemma that I have yet to make a decision about. Sure, every girl wants to buy a pretty dress, do her hair, poke herself in the eyeball with a makeup stick. Prom is like the American Dream. People immigrate to America from impoverished countries just so they can be a part of the American tradition that is Prom. Prom is not a joke!

"But Prom is like...everything I ever dreamed about when I was a kid."

Well, I dreamed about world domination. We can't all aim high, y'know.

Ouch. Burn.

I told my Dad I wanted to become a surgeon. He told me to become a dentist instead. My mom told me to be a psychiatrist.

You watch it people. Or I'm going to become a homeless in Beverly Hills.

They make a killing you know.

I am a hypocrite, raised in a family of hypocrites, and breeding hypocrisy in the world like the next Plague.

Sometimes I wish I can look at people and appreciate them for who they are and who God made them to be. Other times I just say "DIE! DIE! DIE!" in my head until Satan chooses someone else to bother. Can you imagine our thoughts in heaven? It'd be like we're permanently high. We will only see the positive side. Instead of half-empty, we'll always see overfilling. Does the perspective change come naturally after death? Or do you have to achieve nirvana before you can enter heaven?

Life without temptation and sin.

What would it be like?

One Dispute Never Solved...

There is one thing that will never be agreed upon in the Casa de Wang.

Homosexual Marriage.


Me, I love the gays.
Dad, loves God.
God says no gays.
Sorry, Gays.


Now, I love God too. And I know God loves everyone. So I know God loves gays too. He just doesn't want them to get married. Huh. Love the sinner, hate the sin. I get it.

I guess marriage is just not what old people hold it up to be anymore. What's our average divorce rate? 50%? Higher? In high school relationships, if you haven't exchanged vows of love by the first month, something is seriously wrong. It's like Edward breaking up with Bella. WRONG. (Couldn't resist.) Love has been reduced to just a word. "I love gays." "I love Chipotle." "I love House." I think I mean all those, but would I do anything for love? Would I allow myself to be crucified to preserve the existence of House, Chipotle, and homosexuals? House, maybe; homosexuals, doubtful; Chipotle, hell yes.

But love is love is love. It's sacred. We mean it when we say it. (Well, hopefully we mean it when we say it.) If we fancy ourselves in love, then we are! So why limit love? Aren't I supposed to love my brothers and sisters? Weren't we once populated by incestuous brothers, sisters, cousins, and other extraneous relatives? THE WORLD MUST BE PEOPLED.

Gays deserve no less. Their love is hot. Our love is not. Don't be jealous.


So we were watching the news, and they were reporting on the recent overturning of a ban on gay marriage in Iowa. I cheer. Dad says "humph." Then, they interview some JERK (and I am completely unbiased about this, of course) who says "I am severely disappointed...blah blah." So I say, "YOU BIGOT." (Still being unbiased and respecting his right to hate, of course.) and Daddy goes "Blah blah! Respect!" Then he says this:

"What if you say your mom or I kissing with someone else. What if I was kissing another male."

No hesitation.

"Go for it. Whatever makes you happy."

That shut him up. HA! My love does not discriminate. Unless we're talking about race. Or gender. Or body weight. Or mental illnesses. Then my love is choosy all over the place. But my love is for EVERYONE.

Sometimes I Wonder...

Sometimes I wonder...


1.) If I was absolutely drop dead gorgeous, would boys finally appreciate me for being me? Then I realize, that if I were absolutely drop dead gorgeous, boys wouldn't care who I am or what I believe in, I'd be reduced to a set of walking breasts and long legs. We can't have that can we? Then, even worse, what kind of boys will I attract? Drooling penises? I don't think so. So perhaps my cushiony bits are God's way of damming my ocean and keeping me out of the pool. (heh) I can wait until I meet the perfectest guy. I hope.

2.) If I'm ever going to meet The One and have drama of my own. I love hearing about all your drama. I love watching drama. I love living drama through Television. But do I want a Dramallama of my own? Can I handle it? How can I scoff at other people and their almost-perfect-but-not-quite-dresses or their I-love-him-but-he-loves-my-vagina boyfriends? Drama should be healthy. And when I meet The One, We're going to have lots of healthy drama together. (;

3.) Is it all worth it? The clubs, the AP Classes, Church. I like feeling occupied, I like being productive. If I wasn't involved in all these things, what would I be doing? Watching TV. Eating. Reading. So I guess it's a good thing I'm masochistic. Whip myself into shape doing things that I love to hate. When I have a good college education, a impressive degree that I can't remember the Acronym of hanging on my wall, a bazillion figure salary paying for my family's liposuction --I will look back at this time and say - "Damn. Life is good." For now, I can only sigh, cry, and scream. But later, I will laugh.

4.) How much time do I have left? To study for AP tests, to spend with my family, to see my friends, before I finish all episodes of House ever made? I feel like I haven't slept well in years when in reality, I probably get more sleep than any of my peers. (I have no doubt that there are dozens of voodoo dolls with my visage being stabbed, decapitated, disemboweled, and poked with needles labled "insomnia" out there somewhere. ) It's like I get sleep, but I'm unable to enjoy it because I'm in a perpetual state of worry. Worry worry worry. What haven't I done? What if everything I work my ass off for now amounts to nothing? What if I die bitter and alone because I'm so fat I have to be airlifted out of my house every morning? Oh, the humanity!

5.) Is my sex drive really as big as the ocean?

6.) What am I going to do when I grow up? I don't even know what I want to major in, let alone what college I aim on getting into! Leave me alone! I'll figure it out when I'm applying!

7.) Does God love me? Well yeah, he does, but WHY. That's the ultimate question.

8.) Do I love people like they deserve to be loved? Hell no. I believe that if everyone were as humble as God wanted them to be, there would be no pain, poverty, and strife in the world. Can you imagine that? How can you be racist, rich, or arrogant if you believe that you are no better than the black/mexican/asian/white hobo man lying in a puddle of his own vomit on your doorstep. If the world were populated by Good Samaritans...

9.) If I were so extremely rich that I could wipe my butt with hundred dollar bills, would I be able to retain my humanity? If I were tempted, would I fall? Would I care? haha. Probably not. If someone offered me a million dollars to NOT helf an old lady cross the street, I'd probably do it. We discussed the necessity of the Atomic Bomb today and it's shocking how quickly Johnson and I said "Drop the damn thing." haha

10.) What is love? Baby don't hurt me.

Blogging is Evil

It's almost 10, an hour past my bedtime. I've actually stayed up doing homework this time. Socratic Seminar tomorrow, I generally suck at them. I just don't have the balls to butt into someone else's BS. It's not like you can say "Excuse me, I'd like to get my points now. Please shut up." It's more like... "Umm...And I'm going to talk NOW!...fuck." I just can't time myself so that I make it into those awkward silences before someone else does. Asian politeness, it's a curse.

So here I am, not preparing for my seminar, done with my Study Guide, not studying AP Calculus (which I do not understand at all), and writing a blog. Why? Because it's too late to start another episode of House, and I promised myself that I would watch no more than two on a schoolnight. Damn me. Chances are, once I'm done with this blog, I'm going to lay in bed, snuggle under my very warm blankets, and break into Next.

What have I done all day? I did the Yahoo crossword, made a couple thousand neopoints, watched two episodes of House (Big Love is fired now. I liked him. ): ), read some fanfiction, and...did absolutely nothing productive. And I will now proceed to make it worse by blogging.

Blogging is evil.

What do I possibly have to blog about. The only drama in my life is what I see on the telly. (And trust me, that's a LOT of drama.) But I don't miss drama. (I know a lot of you find this hard to believe.) I don't wish there was drama in my life. My vision of happiness is curling up in a lovely bay window with the blankets tucked under my chin, a whole stash of DVDs to choose from, and a warm mug of something chocolately keeping my hands toasty. Sounds heavenly.

I can't begin to count how many times someone has asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I always kid and say "Wealthy." While that's partly true (who doesn't want to be wealthy?), I also want to be happy. You don't need to be wealthy to have happiness. You need time. If being wealthy means I have to wake up at 6 in the morning, stay up until 3 in the morning, toss and turn restlessly in a parody of sleep because I know that in only three hours I have to be back doing something I absolutely hate - fuck it - that's not worth it. I want a family environment. I want what my parents have, except with more TV and less news. Time is way more precious to me than money.

I think I've begun to value time much more as a Junior. 5 AP classes, man. Intense. I haven't really started panicking until now. I enter my AP Chem class and realize I have no idea what's going on. And in the midst of my "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" Jenny asks me an AP Calc problem and I have to start worrying about "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?". Jesus. It's bad for me. One day, I will master integrals and derivatives. However, chances are better that I will forget about "the little worm thingy" before I ever have to use it in real life. Engineer? Forget about it. I hate math. Doctor? More likely. I love House. Lawyer? I don't know. Is there a good lawyer show on TV that I have yet to watch? (Will and Grace doesn't count. He went pro bono. Psh.)

"Sonuvacocklovin'whore." Robert Downey Jr's favorite expletive.

Love it.
Cherish it.
Use it.
Repeat.