Sorry for the slacking

I've been mia, I'm sorry. Korea flew by in a swirl of bbq, tutoring sessions, and family visits. I loved it. I got to know family from both sides, met some great people, and ate enough to last me for the next two winters. I hope it won't take another ten years to get back.

Since I've been in the US, I've been roaming around the East Coast (SF-DC-Richmond-Chapel Hill-DC-NY-Philly-DC-SF) reuniting with people I haven't seen from months to years. One of the greatest and worst things about traveling is making friends all over the place--I have no idea when I'll see some people again in my life. But I was lucky enough to see a ton of my favorite people in a short amount of time. I still need to make a trip to LA, Chicago, and Boston. I could really use a job right now to help in the finance department.

In life news, I inhabit a couch in my sister's living room in Oakland. My belongings are scattered in SF, Chicago, 2 places in Boston, and 3 places in DC. I am applying to jobs all over the world. If you need a live-in maid/nanny/dog-walker/cook/personal shopper/fashion adviser/on-call designated driver/whatever else, call me.

On the last leg of this East Coast adventure, I went on a little road trip with Catherine D. Fellow hater/judger, co-blogger (we have multiple others, but we don't bother writing anything in them; we just reserve the url because we're selfish), eater of too much food in comparison to body size, and driver of one awesome Mini Cooper. Together, she and I talk about nonsensical tomfoolery. We were laughing so hard during the drive from DC-NY that I started writing things down.

Native-American = nutmeg
Hybrids are 99/100 times gorgeous. Every once in a blue moon you see a not-so-gorgeous hybrid and you think to yourself, "damn homie, you got shafted." Now, in the 99%, there are some who are especially gorgeous. Why? Native-American blood. Benjamin Bratt, Heather Locklear, Elvis, Jessica Biel. Johnny Depp. I rest my case.

What makes a Béchamel extra special? That little something in the background that you can't quite guess but you know something is there? Nutmeg.

Drunk + dancing ≠ classy
Wedding season is upon us. As bridesmaids, we are responsible for such events as bridal showers, coaxing bridezillas off ledges because the invitations were done in cream and not eggshell, bachelorette parties, etc. Now, when a bride says she wants a "classy" bachelorette party, and then turns around to say she wants to hold it at (insert ghetto club name--think "18 and over" which means 16-year old girls with 40-year old men watching on the sidelines), your duty is to intervene. Classy dancing means foxtrot, not shaking your goodies.

Advanced white girl = intermediate black kid
You remember Missy Elliot's Gossip Folks with the cute little white girl? Well, I'm sorry, white girl. Yes, you are pretty good. But black kids are still going to be better than you.

Merriam-Webster, listen up
If "truthiness" is a word, "conversate" is definitely a word.

D'Angelo
Ladies, you don't know how the song goes, do you? But you know you have that music video filed in your brain under D-D-D-A-M-N he FOINE. "How does it feel" is practically the only thing he says. But as Catherine pointed out, it doesn't matter. "Don't you want him to ask you??"

We were right around Philly at the time. And because we were both so distracted by replaying the music video in our heads while listening to the song, we missed the right exit, got stuck at the Philly airport and had to circle back a few times to get back on the road to NY. Oh, D'Angelo, we miss you. Come back.

Car-eoke
Catherine has some bomb playlists, including "Car-eoke." FYI, of all the Disney tunes, Under the Sea is HARD to SING.