a precarious balance

some might say that life is dictated by karma: the cosmic bank account of good actions leading to good fortunes. i'm nowhere near that sophisticated.

for me, life is about the ebb and flow of calories: how to spend calories so that i can eat more. its a cycle, but an exciting one. i like exercise b/c it allows me to eat a lot. i eat a lot so i have to exercise. i think its pretty fitting that i have two blogs, one dedicated to eating (this one), and one dedicated to workouts. mmmm yum and heeeeyah!


two by two

we've recently moved back into my apartment upon the fulfillment of two very important requirements:
  • the fixing of my aircon and
  • the beating of resistance in hard mode.

unfortunately, my apartment is out of gas (i buy it in cannisters b/c i'm retro like that), which means two things:

  • no hot water and
  • no, well, gas.

no hot water is not a big deal for two reasons:

  • hk is so hot that cold water comes out lukewarm and
  • we never shower anyways

but no gas means jon is rendered useless in his role as cook-y. luckily for us, i am (cue theme music) microwave chef extraordinaire! tada! dundundundundundun! (that was a fanfare in case you missed it) yesterday, i made pasta with marinara sauce AND broccoli casserole (a can of cream of asparagus soup dumped on a bunch of broccoli). it counts as cooking b/c i had to add my own spicy mustard. i'm very concerned about counting.


bushism of the day

a coworker just asked me if i like Macedonian nuts. [insert tasteless, racially inappropriate joke here]

i've eaten three sugar plums today, and only now, while gnoshing* the last one, did i make the association with the sugar plum fairies of nutcracker fame. which is a shame, b/c i danced as one during the xmas production in grade school. how my synapses fail me!

* dunno if there should be a silent g there, but it makes the word seem wiser, no?


epic battle of the day

all i wanted was 4 cokes to go with my free pizza. the vending machine on our floor had run out. travesty. i, uncompromising and undeterred (diet coke doesn't cut it today), asked the receptionist if other floors had vending machines. she told me the 22nd floor. hope glimmers on the horizon.

in the elevator, i push the button for the 22nd floor. the elevator moves. i exit when the doors open. it took me a good 5 min to figure out that i was on the wrong floor. apparently the 22nd floor requires a card swipe. sneaky bastards. i ride the next elevator all the way down and all the way up again.

i find the vending machine, but my octopus card is out of money. i only have enough change for two cokes. i ask a nice lady to change a ten, she runs to her desk and comes back. she watches as i buy all 4 cokes. i bend over to get my cokes from the machine. the machine is unyielding. the little flap door is stuck on the backup of cokes. wtf. who designed these bastards? the other cokes are stacked up behind the door, which opens inwards. the extrication is painful and, even for me, slightly embarassing. i practically have both feet against the coke machine. i finally have to dent the cans to get them out. if i were the lady standing in line behind me, waiting to get her cokes, i would've been greatly amused.


a couple of things

i am in hong kong, eating an orange grown in south africa.

i can almost do a pullup, underhanded, if i pseudo jump at the beginning (aka i can't do a pullup).

jon and i have beaten Resistance: FALL OF MAN once, and now we're in our second run thru (in hard mode, nonetheless), b/c the clever game promised us new weapons if we played again. so far, we've found the backlash grenade (that traps the enemy and his fire in a dome thru which we can shoot but he can't), the airfuel grenade (goes boom very big), and the arc charger gun (whose electric flame latches onto flesh and arcs from living thing to living thing to kill them all dead). the biggest surprise, however, has been a more fundamental one. the main character, see, is a white american army guy. he saves the world. i've always assumed that in two player mode, the second character (my character) is just the same as the main guy (Sgt Nathan Hale). the storyline between scenes only ever mentions Hale (Hale was the only survivor, Hale did this, Hale did that). Turns out, my guy is black. kinda funny that the game makers decided to make the black guy the one whose achievements are never mentioned in the annals of videogame history.


A Regional Memorandum

Number 8 Typhoon Signal in Hong Kong

The Hong Kong Observatory has announced that a number 8 typhoon signal is expected to be hoisted within the next hour. The Government advises that members of the public with long or difficult journeys, or those having to return to outlying Islands, should begin their journey now.

If the number 8 signal is actually hoisted, all other staff that wish to commute home are encouraged to do so at any time, but are strongly advised to take appropriate safety precautions until the number 8 signal is lowered. Those with critical coverage responsibilities please confirm with your manager to ensure the appropriate coverage is achieved.

We expect the office to return to normal operation if the number 8 signal is lowered during normal business hours.

(I love weird weather phenomena. super duper excited. antsies in my pantsies. i want to go home and play Resistance: FALL OF MAN!)


wind and water

the spark plug in my ac died. i've been staying at jon's. now i'm addicted to cheddar cheese sandwiches. not a day goes by that i do not miss their mustardy goodness.

in other news, i'm learning how to wakeboard. the learning curve is surprisingly mild, probably b/c falling holds no fear. altho, i did fall on my face hard enough to give myself a dull headache. i've gone three times, and i can already go goofy (sorta), go one handed, carve (sorta), and jump (sorta). by jump, i mean i can go outside of the wake on my toe edge, and come back into the wake hard on my heel edge, catching a little bit of air on the transition. i still can't land a bunnyhop. i doubt we'll do this enough to learn real tricks (prohibitive costs), but its cool to be able to pseudo wakeboard. i'm all about pseudo skillz.



look down


things here are crazy out of order, but i've had an army of exciting weekends lined up in rows and rows and rows. first there was megajunk, then jfest+boston, then birthday, then survivor beach, then popping the x cherry+wakeboarding+champagne brunch. i'm exhausted, and all i want to do this weekend is finish harry potter before more loud mouths on the escalator decide to scream out who died (ohmigod or they'll be next).

it's really too exciting for sentences, soo...first up: my birthday! of wakeboarding+outlet shopping+shanghainese food+pizza+TWO CAKES+the blowing out of all but one candle+wii boxing and bowling and tennis. and dear jon who woke up in the middle of the night to hang up decorations in the dark. boyfriends are best for birthdays. in addition to all that, he got me a jersey+disc from potlatch, and a movie, and a book! plus, of course, my nds, which was bought a week in advance to be taken on the longhaul travel trip. eventually, i will unearth the pictures from his and my cameras.

more recently, i've made a concerted effort towards chill weekends. for example, last weekend, paulie came over friday night, brian had a party saturday night, and sunday we got our ears lowered (does anyone remember that episode of doug?--that means we got haircuts. as usual, i fell asleep in mine--a habit i've developed since mom stopped cutting my hair. i'm much less vigilant since i don't have to worry about her snipping off the extra 4 inches b/c i'd look so cute with a bob. i guess it could be considered dangerous to fall asleep in a haircut, but i've slept thru more dire circumstances. plus, we were fully in blowdry mode by then. also also, i think my body uses narcolepsy as a defense mechanism. when situations get too stressful, i tend to zonk out. my subconscious is convinced that my conscious is not prepared to handle itself. when my conscious regains control, the menace has usually passed. proof? i've slept thru ringu (japanese version), not b/c i was bored but b/c i was terrified. i sleep thru lecturers given by foreign accents (peeling back the extra layer of esoteric is too stressful for my brain). one may argue that new haircuts are stressful too (who knows who will come out on the other side)).