I'm so mad at my mother...(courtesy of Steve Martin)

Moms. It can be a love/hate relationship. Especially between a mother and daughter. Since I still live with my mom (like a rock star) there are inevitable fights. Or just those situations where she can make me feel so small and useless. Here's one of my favorites.

For her birthday I had a big plan to make her a surprise meal. The tricky part was timing, to run to the store and make the meal the day of while she was at work. Being the summer I wanted to keep it somewhat light, so I made a classic ceviche and a 9" lemon tart from scratch, crust and all! I was so excited to do something like this for her. Real life being what it is, plans changed and she was able to come home early that day. I thought, "Oh well, it'll still be quite a surprise, I'll just be finishing some things when she gets home."

So I'm in the kitchen, the tart is cooling on the stove, and I'm still cutting up some of the white fish for the ceviche. She comes home and walks into the kitchen. I smile and say, "Happy Birthday! I'm making you dinner, I'm just finishing up." She looks at the ceviche, a disgusted look comes across her face and she says, "That's the dinner?" in the most disappointed voice possible.

My heart breaks.

Suddenly I'm trying to defend the nice thing I was trying to do for her. Then she goes into how I shouldn't make her feel bad on her birthday and how reasonable she's being. I could go on and on, but even now typing this out, it still hurts.

Then just this past weekend she and I went to a party that was celebrating several of my friends' birthdays, including my own! I made a ton of yummy cupcakes of course. And one of my friends is expecting a baby, so for her gift I knitted a baby blanket, fluffy and soft. My mom reminded me how to knit and do the edging, but I bought the yarn and spent almost a month getting it done. The party was fun and lovely, even my mom seemed to be having a good time.

Flash forward to the next day. I come downstairs, before I or she even says, "Good morning" she starts, "I was just thinking how much of the ingredients you must have gone through to make those cupcakes. And you could have at least said I did the edging on the blanket."

Confused? So was I.

I contribute to groceries every month and I fully planned to restock the sugar, flour and such. And excuse me about the blanket? Thank you for reminding me how to knit but dammit I did the work. I couldn't talk to her for the rest of the day I was so furious. I should have simply said, "Fuck you". But I still have to somehow live with this woman. I seriously need a reasonably priced apartment. Maybe I'll get that for my birthday.

Watch she makes me dinner...then its my turn >:oD

Debbie Does it on My Sheets

So I like to watch porn. I'm human. Yes, a woman who watches porn, men pick your jaws up off the floor now thank you. And before I get into my real story, guys with girlfriends and wives who make you feel like guilty perverts for watching porn, they secretly like it too. It's just that girls have been raised to abhor such things and feel guilty for liking it. So they would rather not be put in that position and avoid it all together. Okay, maybe not all girls like porn, but dammit they are curious.

I don't really have to explain why I like porn, main reason is pretty obvious. Although one part why I do like it is that it is very educational. New positions and such, and why you always need a cucumber handy.

But my real tale that I wish to share is how I feel a special connection to the porn community. One night a few years ago, watching porn (duh), it happened. While the man and the woman slinked into the bedroom getting all sexy I noticed something very distinct. The sheets they were about to get freaky on as it were. They were my sheets. My bedding. Their set designer (they use those right?) picked my bed sheets for the sexy scene! Now I know what you're thinking, I must sleep on silk and lace sheets in black and red colors.

Nope.

My bedding, which I picked out in high school mind you, are pale blue and yellow with patterns of pale pink roses all over. The cover is reversible too! (So was the woman in the porn, maybe that's why they picked them) And my innocent sheets in no way fit in with the rest of the decor, or the story line (innocent school girl getting freaky? nay nay...) I think they were in a mansion too, making my sheets stand out more!!! My bedding is not grand or elegant enough to be in a mansion. I could not believe it. What's more unbelievable is that I wasn't smart enough at the time to write down the name of the film. No proof. I feel like it had to be Skintimax or Friday After Dark, or something on HBO. I know it wasn't "Oops I Swallowed", too recent. I may have to start a contest to see who can find the film. Until then, the mystery remains...

Awkward...

There are those situations where you find yourself accidentally eavesdropping. Not because you're nosy, but clearly the people talking want to be heard, no matter how embarrassing their topic of conversation. For me the best (or maybe it should be called the worst) happened a few years ago in a Starbucks...yes I do enjoy soft jazz and pretentious drinks, get a job you hippie. I'm just kidding, no one will hire you until you shower.

So, while adding sugar and taste-testing my coffee, this is what I overheard:

Woman, "How long was your grandmother missing?"

Man, "Oh, 3 to 4 days, then they found the body. She wasn't dead, but they asked me, 'Does your grandmother usually swim naked in the Housatonic River?' I said no..."

I shit you not.

How do I remember this? Well, in high school I started a quote diary. Just those everyday moments, those one-liners my friends would say and I just had to write down. Sadly most of them will only be funny to me. But in this particular situation, where I had to bolt out of the Starbucks before laughing in a strangers face, I wrote it on a piece of paper I found in my car and kept it in the diary.

What I still can't believe, and still remember to this day, is how casual the conversation was. It was as if they were discussing their day at work, not a missing, streaking relative! (okay I'm just going to put it out there...Grannies Gone Wild: Dentures Out...you know there's a niche market for that)

Speaking of the elderly, there is another fond, and awkward moment that just came to mind. It occurred years ago on a cruise trip with my family. While waiting for the elevator with my sister, two elderly women were coming down the hall towards us. One of the women I believe had a lunch that must have upset her tummy because she started to toot with every step. Her timing was impeccable, like walking on whoopy cushions, it was always on the beat. Her hearing appeared to be fine because with every blow she said, "Oh dear" or "Oh my". So knowing her hearing was intact my sister and I tried out hardest to stifle our laughter, also known as the church giggles. Those moments where you know you shouldn't laugh, but can't fucking help it! Finally the elevator came, we run in and make the doors shut before rootin' tootin' granny can join us (yes I know I'm going to Hell) and then we crumple to the floor laughing.

They say with old age comes wisdom. And from these two situations I can also look forward to forgetting who I am, why I'm required to wear clothes, and farting down the river...awesome.

My Kind of Man

When it comes to men, I suppose I am a bit picky. There is one kind however, when I see him walking down the street or shopping in a grocery store, he just warms my heart and I want to take him home with me. Let me see how well I can paint the picture.

He's in his 70's to 90's. If it's warm out he tends to wear bermuda shorts, sandals with black socks that rise up to mid-calf. When it's chilly he'll cover his head with a newspaper boy hat and a scarf that no doubt represents his alma-mater. He may be slightly hunched over with age, but he doesn't let it slow him down as he shuffles down the sidewalk or the aisle. Oh the cute shuffle he does. You know he was a dancer in his younger days. I see him and I just want to adopt him.

You know he likes to play cards, perhaps Gin or Solitare. And he could talk for hours about the good old days, like the war, the first or the second, doesn't matter.

So call me picky, or color this blog really short, but that is my kind of man.

Some Pet Peeves

When I made the decision to go to Culinary School I couldn't wait to tell people. I quickly realized what a mistake this was. Here is what would happen 99% of the time:

1) Their eyes would grow wide and immediately "ooo" and "ahhh"

2) They would say, "I would be happy to be your taste tester anytime." Every time someone would say this they would smile coyly and wink thinking they are oh so clever and the first person to say this to me. Little did they know they were the 100th and sure wouldn't be the last.

3) If I was meeting a friend of a relative, the relative in question couldn't wait to share what I do for a living. Their friend quickly does either 1 or 2, or more often they say, "How nice it must be to have a chef in the family. You must do all the cooking at the holidays." Again winking and again making me cringe.

4) They ask me if I would do all their cooking for the holidays.

The thing that's tough to make people understand is how unglamorous it really is to be a chef. Those who aren't in the business automatically think of the Food Network and think that we all get to work in bright, shiny kitchens with flattering lighting. That we love every moment laboring over a recipe and have all the time in the world to get it done right. Now, I hate to use this as a reference, but Hell's Kitchen is a bit more accurate to the daily life of a chef. God knows it is overdone and made much more dramatic, but that and Top Chef really shows the pressure we're under. We all have been yelled at by the Executive Chef at one time or another. There is a major time crunch in the kitchen but no matter what the food must be perfect when it leaves the kitchen. We're on our feet for at least 10 hours a day and we're lucky to get a half-hour break for a meal, even luckier if we get to sit down while we eat it. You're really lucky if your kitchen has a window to the outside world. In some cases you're lucky to have a window. Not to mention dealing with picky customers. The meal or dessert is made perfectly, they eat 90% of it, then suddenly feel it is not up to par and demand it replaced without being charged for either one. Is the customer always right?

So why be a chef?

For one, it sure as hell beats being stuck in a cubicle all day long. At times it's an adrenaline rush, pushing yourself to get the job done faster. And when you can stand behind your work and see people genuinely appreciating and admiring what you've created, you can't help but smile and feel proud.

Oh Neville...

In every group of friends, no matter where they live or what they may do for a living, there is always one person in that group that gets picked on. A more common name for this person is "the bitch". And for whatever reason "the bitch" tends to be a guy. Obviously "the bitch" does not willingly submit him or herself to this position, but over time it slowly and subtly happens. In college "the bitch" in my group of friends was a boy named "Neville" (obviously not the real name, I have to give this guy a chance of un-bitching himself...yes I do think un-bitching is a real word).

There are many tales of Neville getting picked on. From having pages from various porn magazines plastered all over his side of the dorm room (not surprising he did keep them up for awhile). Shortly after that they planted a vibrator under his pillow to keep the theme going, Neville did not keep that around. And from day to day the streams of comments insinuating that Neville must be a girl or gay. If the latter, they constantly made plans for the coming out party that would include a keg of Zima. I'm still trying to figure out how Zima is associated with the homosexual community, some of my friends are just idiots and I apologize if this offends anyone.

There is one tale that is my favorite, it's not necessarily epic or the moment that Neville became "the bitch" (still trying to pinpoint that one) but whenever I think of it, it makes me smile and giggle to myself.

My friends and I went to cooking school, and as a part of our daily uniform we had to wear a toque to class everyday. For those of you who don't know, a toque is the tall, white, cylindrical hat that you see chefs wear. There are various styles, ours were completely open on top for ventilation, and I think they were just cheaper for the school to get. One day in class my friends had the brilliant idea to keep throwing a bit of flour in Neville's toque, then when the moment comes when he takes it off, boom! That's one messy Neville. So throughout class a friend would keep Neville distracted while the other threw flour in his toque. It got to the point where we were sure Neville would begin to feel something was on top of his head that shouldn't be there. Luckily Neville was as ever unobservant, oh Neville! Now, we thought he would take his toque off during lecture, as most of the class does, giving the gag it's optimal audience, or so we thought.

He kept the damn thing on.

There was so much flour in his toque now that every so often, if he moved just right, a bit of the powder would come out underneath dusting his shoulders! We could barely stifle our laughter, waiting for the moment to arrive. End of class comes, the toque is still on, and we head to the dining hall. We all sit down, finally one of us says, "Okay, class is over now, you can take off the damn toque and relax." Neville looks confused as this has never been an issue before, but he agrees by removing his hat. Boom! One messy Neville in the middle of the dining hall and everyone is laughing. At first Neville is ticked off, but then he can't help but laugh at being turned into a human powder puff.

*These stunts were done by professional college students who were bored and had nothing better to do and we don't blame you for copying but please do them in good humor.

Color Me Special?

When you ask a relative about how you were as a child you hope to hear some positive attributes. For example, "Cute as a button", or "Busy as a bee", or maybe even "A little stinker". Any adjective or story that will help spark a childhood memory. Over the last few years, a few of my relatives have given me the same label over and over again..."special". That's right, over the last few years I have found out that my relatives thought I was slightly retarded in my youth.

In high school I heard about this for the first time. I don't know how the topic came up, but my mother told me how her mother, that's right, my own grandmother, constantly made comments on my mental health. How I seemed to be a little slow on the draw. My mother can laugh at it now, even at the fact that she sometimes agreed with her (the bitch is getting coal for Mother's Day). I was of course horrified and hurt. How did I come off so "special"? Sure, I peed on the floor once and carried around our parakeet by it's tail, but I was just being a kid right? Anyone?

Another favorite is my aunt. She tells me how she would watch me play and talk and she would constantly think, "Oh dear, the child just ain't right." And again, everyone listening just laughs at this in agreement. My own family.

Now, I am not diagnosed with any mental disabilities. Although I have had my fair share of "special" moments, but who hasn't? I mean, when I thought the stapler was empty, instead of opening it to see if it was in fact empty, I tested it on my wrist instead. And to my surprise, there were a few staples left, one of which was now lodged in my wrist. Or no matter how many times I would cut open the ottoman to see what was inside, much to my mothers dismay, I would have to go back one more time and open it again, just in case anything changed.

It did hurt when my family laughed at how I behaved in my childhood. But then I looked at some baby and toddler photos of myself. And then I started laughing. I have a huge head, which I believe I am still growing into (by the way, those "one size fits all" hats in the stores, they just mock me with their lies). And, okay, tricky sensitive territory here, but I just looked "special". Home videos have also helped me see what my relatives saw way back when. Why did I like to keep locking myself in the closet only wearing a pair of diapers and a hat? Though I thought it was very smart of me to start yelling at myself after I peed on the carpet, it shows I knew it was wrong. And so what, after opening all my birthday presents, I still wanted to go back and play in the cardboard house we had for years already, it shows I'm not materialistic.

So, when it comes up again that everyone thought I was special when I was little, I can't help but laugh too. And I also have an interesting theory. You know how Asian comedians can make fun of other Asians, Hispanic comedians can make fun of other Hispanics, and Black comedians can make fun of everyone? Well, since I was thought to be, and even treated as special for so long, can I poke fun at my people? No, that doesn't sound right. Though I do feel less guilty when I laugh at the special jokes in "The Ringer".