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Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Brought to you by CNN World News

"Some NATO allies who are not used to fighting in the cold Afghan winter have a caveat against fighting in the snow."

Somehow I don't think Marines from Camp Pendleton (i.e. San Diego) are used to fighting in cold weather either but I'm sure it doesn't stop them from kicking some terrorist booty rain, sleet or snow.

The report reminded me of this Mark Steyn article linked by John Hawkins last week.

That's to say, Norway is "participating" in Afghanistan, but, because its troops are "not sufficiently trained to take part in combat", they've been mainly back at the barracks manning the photocopier or staging amateur performances of Peer Gynt for the amusement of US special forces who like nothing better than to unwind with five acts of Ibsen after a hard day hunting the Taliban.

So will one of you liberals remind me again of why exactly it is we so desperately need our so-called "allies?" Other than the Brits and the Aussies what are they good for other than possibly making our troops soft and whiny by their mere proximity to them?


wingless was still breathing at 5:09 AM - 3 comments

Monday, February 26, 2007

Amsterdam Day 2

So Day 2 in Amsterdam was dubbed Heineken Museum Day by our resident frat-boy Joe. Therefore I have the most pictures from Day 2, because apparently you get picture happy when you are drunk and in a museum. Or maybe just drunk with a camera. Whatever.

Woke up bright and early (aka noon) and wandered through the streets by our hotel in search of sustenance. As you can see, weed (found in "coffee shops") was plentiful although a meal we could all agree on was a bit more elusive.

We finally settled on a Tibetan restaurant which made Poon and I, "the asians," quite happy. Also, look Brad Pitt was there!

After lunch we decided it would be a good idea to walk to the Heineken Museum because Kim was sure it "wasn't so far." Nevermind that it was sprinkling and probably right around zero degrees Celsius.

At one point we thought we were there but it was just another building labeled Heineken.

We finally arrived eight gazillion hours later only to be told the line was 45 minutes long and the museum was closing in two hours and "you'll never finish in time so you should just leave and come back tomorrow!" But we had just walked nine thousand miles in the rain and wanted our three free beers with 10 euro admission so we were not to be deterred and luckily a lot of other people (suckers!) got out of line and we ended up getting inside after only about twenty minutes of waiting.

Joe pondering the finer points of the beer making process.

The Poon and I happy that the silly museum-y part was almost over and the beer was just around the corner!

Cheers! We saw another group take this same picture and took our own but huddled away from them so they wouldn't think we were a bunch of copycat losers...which okay...maybe we were but at least they didn't see.

Group picture while we were all still relatively sober.

After the first bar the museum resumes, but this time more fun and exciting because you've already had one pint of beer.

In the second bar (which is at the end of the tour) you get not one but TWO free beers. So you'll understand why the pictures that follow are so...uh...interesting.

My Amsterdam souvenir which could probably get me a lot of boys. Beer-loving boys anyway.

Flashbacks of Halloween except this time Joe looks a little less scared and a little more into it. And also, Kim isn't wearing lipstick.

After the museum we decided to walk home, because well, we were drunk and didn't mind that it was cold and damp. Originally this was a group shot but all the group pictures came out blurry so finally Joe just took one of me. Because I'm mellow. And yellow.

We stopped at a Mexican restaurant. We found the Buddhist paraphernalia next to the wine glasses to be quite entertaining because Buddhism is all about eliminating desire and Amsterdam (and wine! and beer!) is all about feeding them. All of them.

The Virgin Mary in the same restaurant about 10 feet away from those buddhist things.

Back to the area right around our hotel, sweet hotel.

End of Day 2. Bedtime. And no comment. I was tired okay!


wingless was still breathing at 1:20 PM - 0 comments

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Amsterdam Day 1

I finally quit being so lazy and resized all the pictures from Amsterdam. Between Joe, Poontastic and myself we have about a zillion pictures so I'm going day by day. Sucks for you that there are only four from day one.

After a few mishaps (i.e. Poon left his passport at his uncle's an hour outside of Paris and realized it 2 hours before our train left) we all made it to the train just before it was time to board. I wore my sweatpants and Joe said he expected nothing less (or rather, more).

Joe and Poon fake sleeping. Originally this was supposed to be a picture of Poon with his head on Joe's shoulder but he chickened out at the last minute.

Our (cozy) room, complete with its own hair-dryer! And the bed is actually two twins pushed together but only one sheet and comforter.

Um...yeah...this was taken towards the end of the night when we finally settled down to dinner. We were giggling too hard to be photographed. No comment on why.


wingless was still breathing at 4:57 PM - 0 comments


I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but our French cable gives us access to the news broadcast run by terrorists, aka Al-Jazeera.

Since its broad-casted in English here I decided to give it a whirl this afternoon as opposed to my usual diet of CNN/BBC/SkyNews (which can be really dry but, of course, we don't get FoxNews here).

I happened to flip in during a commercial break (commercial breaks are rare in France) and this is what I heard/saw:

(Image of Saddam Hussein with a noose around his neck)

Voiceover: Saddam Hussein, despite his obvious flaws, still had a vision for Iraq.

(Flash to image of Jimmy Carter)

Jimmy Carter: It's not a fence, it's a wall, 12-feet tall in some places.

Yes, that's right, Saddam Hussein may have slaughtered God-only-knows-how-many of his own people, but we just didn't give him a chance! He was still a decent dictator with a "vision for Iraq" after all.

Who cares if it was a vision of a lot of dead Kurds and baby-torture-prisons? Not Al-Jizzy.

And if Jimmy Carter doesn't realize that being quoted by Al-Jizzy in a positive light is reason enough to rethink his stance on Israel, well then heaven help him.

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wingless was still breathing at 9:29 AM - 0 comments

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Because I can

Hello, I'm back. Sort of. The last few days I've been feeling really blah. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or I don't know, something else. Maybe I'm getting the two-month itch where I'm starting to really miss Paul, my family, my cat...I'm upset about missing the funeral, which is today. And I'm just feeling really...emotionally...tired. Exhausted. I just want to curl up and sleep for a week.

The problem is that I know this feeling and I know where it leads. It leads to me shutting myself into a dark room with no food and no showers for several days at a time. And you can't really do that when you have roommates because they will probably smell you.

Or, maybe, I'm just being melodramatic. Who knows? Apparently not me.

I think this is the worst part about having once suffered from depression - every time you get even an inkling that you're not feeling 100% mentally you start to wonder if you're headed down an old, dark, dingy road (oh and don't forget stinky).

I think I'll be okay though.

I'm just feeling a little bit lost. And a little bit nostalgic. You know how it goes, thinking about where you've been, wondering where you're going next. Wondering if you're going anywhere at all. Wondering if you'll ever get a halfway decent job. Feeling like you have no clue at all about anything.

Alright, I've had enough of my self-indulgent whing...for now anyway.


wingless was still breathing at 9:54 AM - 0 comments

Girly-men for real

I think I've alluded to the fact that, at least to me, living in France is like living in another dimension. One that is sort of similar to the US except that the whole country has lost its collective ability to reason, and the men are soft and womanly. Even the cops. And the "thugs" carry pink (yes, bright pink) razor phones and wear pink (emphasis: pink) LV baseball caps.

Everything I thought about Frenchmen before I lived in France...well let's just say now I have concrete examples of why I believe what I believe about them.

Hm, I was all set to write out a long post about this with lots of side-splitting examples but I think I'll have to save it for some other time. I just haven't been feeling *it* lately (whatever it is that makes me want to blog).

Au revoir, a demain perhaps?

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wingless was still breathing at 7:37 AM - 0 comments

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

It's true, you get what you pay for

So um, remember that time I was on hold "forever" with the City of Los Angeles Department of Public Works?

Try two hours, seventeen minutes, forty-five seconds and counting.

French Social Security rules.


I'm sorry for every mean thing I've ever said about Blue Cross because at least they answered their damn phone.

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wingless was still breathing at 6:55 AM - 0 comments

Monday, February 19, 2007

Why he joined....

The other day I had a conversation with a dear friend - a friend who also happens to be an Operation Iraqi Freedom vet. The conversation wandered through many issues with respect to the current war, some things we agreed on, some things we partially agreed on and some things we did not agree on.

I told him that my reason for supporting the troops is because I believe they are the very best and bravest that America has to offer. I know my opinion may be a bit starry-eyed and that when it comes to the troops I do wear rose-colored glasses, so I couldn't argue with him when he told me that yes some know exactly what they're getting into but that many others do not. Certainly I couldn't disagree that some of our troops over there joined not out of any deep patriotic fire burning inside them but simply because they weren't sure what else to do with their lives. I can't argue with the fact that he probably knows them better than I do.

However, I still believe that the record-breaking numbers of veterans re-enlisting should prove that at least a significant number of our brave troops know exactly what they're getting into and why. And this is one of my main reasons for continuing to support the war - the very people who risk their lives still support it so who am I to say otherwise?

The other day, after the conversation, I was perusing DW's blog and I found a link to this (which Michelle Malkin has also discussed several times now).

Why I Joined: This question has been asked of me so many times in so many different contexts that I thought it would be best if I wrote my reasons for joining the Army on my page for all to see. First, the more accurate question is why I volunteered to go to Iraq. After all, I joined the Army a week after we declared war on Saddam's government with the intention of going to Iraq. Now, after years of training and preparation, I am finally here. Much has changed in the last three years. The criminal Ba'ath regime has been replaced by an insurgency fueled by Iraq's neighbors who hope to partition Iraq for their own ends. This is coupled with the ever present transnational militant Islamist movement which has seized upon Iraq as the greatest way to kill Americans, along with anyone else they happen to be standing near. What was once a paralyzed state of fear is now the staging ground for one of the largest transformations of power and ideology the Middle East has experienced since the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. Thanks to Iran, Syria, and other enlightened local actors, this transformation will be plagued by interregional hatred and genocide. And I am now in the center of this. Is this why I joined? Yes. Much has been said about America's intentions in overthrowing Saddam Hussein and seeking to establish a new state based upon political representation and individual rights. Many have framed the paradigm through which they view the conflict around one-word explanations such as "oil" or "terrorism," favoring the one which best serves their political persuasion. I did the same thing, and anyone who knew me before I joined knows that I am quite aware and at times sympathetic to the arguments against the war in Iraq. If you think the only way a person could bring themselves to volunteer for this war is through sheer desperation or blind obedience then consider me the exception (though there are countless like me). I joined the fight because it occurred to me that many modern day "humanists" who claim to possess a genuine concern for human beings throughout the world are in fact quite content to allow their fellow "global citizens" to suffer under the most hideous state apparatuses and conditions. Their excuses used to be my excuses. When asked why we shouldn't confront the Ba'ath party, the Taliban or the various other tyrannies throughout this world, my answers would allude to vague notions of cultural tolerance (forcing women to wear a veil and stay indoors is such a quaint cultural tradition), the sanctity of national sovereignty (how eager we internationalists are to throw up borders to defend dictatorships!) or even a creeping suspicion of America's intentions. When all else failed, I would retreat to my fragile moral ecosystem that years of living in peace and liberty had provided me. I would write off war because civilian casualties were guaranteed, or temporary alliances with illiberal forces would be made, or tank fuel was toxic for the environment. My fellow "humanists" and I would relish contently in our self righteous declaration of opposition against all military campaigns against dictatorships, congratulating one another for refusing to taint that aforementioned fragile moral ecosystem that many still cradle with all the revolutionary tenacity of the members of Rage Against the Machine and Greenday. Others would point to America's historical support of Saddam Hussein, sighting it as hypocritical that we would now vilify him as a thug and a tyrant. Upon explaining that we did so to ward off the fiercely Islamist Iran, which was correctly identified as the greater threat at the time, eyes are rolled and hypocrisy is declared. Forgetting that America sided with Stalin to defeat Hitler, who was promptly confronted once the Nazis were destroyed, America's initial engagement with Saddam and other regional actors is identified as the ultimate argument against America's moral crusade. And maybe it is. Maybe the reality of politics makes all political action inherently crude and immoral. Or maybe it is these adventures in philosophical masturbation that prevent people from ever taking any kind of effective action against men like Saddam Hussein. One thing is for certain, as disagreeable or as confusing as my decision to enter the fray may be, consider what peace vigils against genocide have accomplished lately. Consider that there are 19 year old soldiers from the Midwest who have never touched a college campus or a protest who have done more to uphold the universal legitimacy of representative government and individual rights by placing themselves between Iraqi voting lines and homicidal religious fanatics. Often times it is less about how clean your actions are and more about how pure your intentions are. So that is why I joined. In the time it took for you to read this explanation, innocent people your age have suffered under the crushing misery of tyranny. Every tool of philosophical advancement and communication that we use to develop our opinions about this war are denied to countless human beings on this planet, many of whom live under the regimes that have, in my opinion, been legitimately targeted for destruction. Some have allowed their resentment of the President to stir silent applause for setbacks in Iraq. Others have ironically decried the war because it has tied up our forces and prevented them from confronting criminal regimes in Sudan, Uganda, and elsewhere. I simply decided that the time for candid discussions of the oppressed was over, and I joined. In digesting this posting, please remember that America's commitment to overthrow Saddam Hussein and his sons existed before the current administration and would exist into our future children's lives had we not acted. Please remember that the problems that plague Iraq today were set in motion centuries ago and were up until now held back by the most cruel of cages. Don't forget that human beings have a responsibility to one another and that Americans will always have a responsibility to the oppressed. Don't overlook the obvious reasons to disagree with the war but don't cheapen the moral aspects either. Assisting a formerly oppressed population in converting their torn society into a plural, democratic one is dangerous and difficult business, especially when being attacked and sabotaged from literally every direction. So if you have anything to say to me at the end of this reading, let it at least include "Good Luck" Mark Daily

He was 23. He was a Political Science major at UCLA. When I read that I knew that we had sat in the very same lecture halls, listening to the same professors and in fact, we'd probably even sat in the very same lecture halls at the same time seeing as he graduated only one year after me. Maybe myspace isn't so bad, it gives our troops the chance to become real to all of us, to have voices even from beyond the grave. And I hope the page stays available forever, a testament to the fact this courageous young man was not only a warrior, but a genuinely good man with a heart of gold and a true desire to make the world a better place. If Democrats like Obama consider his life wasted...well I can't help them...because clearly 2LT Mark Daily did not feel the same.

To me, Mark Daily embodies all of our troops, and he always will.

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wingless was still breathing at 4:35 AM - 1 comments

Sunday, February 18, 2007

A beautiful city

I'm coming up on the halfway point of my time here in Paris. Strange how quickly time passes. And at the same time, how slowly.

People ask me how I like it here and I usually don't know how to answer. Like everything else in life there are good things and bad things. I like the sandwiches on every corner and the deliciously fresh bread. I like wandering into areas that look so untouched by time that you feel as though you've walked into another era. I like how the French love to celebrate, everything! I like not needing a car or ever having to drive.

And what about what I don't like? People here smell bad. I'm not kidding. Women, men, whatever. You'll walk past a couple ladies in McDonald's and suddenly the disgusting smell of body odor will fill your nostrils. Sometimes the trains smell like urine and the metro stations smell like poo. I don't like how people here don't respect the American "bubble" and tend to breathe down your neck in checkout lines or just wherever.

Also, growing up in California I always heard people telling me how the downside of California is no seasons. Uh. Seasons? So overrated, in my humble opinion anyway. I'm living through my first real winter and I hope to God I never have to go through another one. What's so great about having to bundle up only to start sweating profusely the second you step into any store or the metro station? Beats the hell out of me. I'm happy in my year-round flip flops weather thank you very much. And why the hell do they always crank the heat up so high when they know people are going to be wearing thermals and heavy coats, etc. This is why I haven't wanted to do any shopping here - the stores are packed and the lights are ridiculously bright and the heat is always turned all the way up. My roommates joke about how good I've gotten at stripping my layers off while riding down the metro escalator.

Truthfully though, I do like it in France. It's like living in another dimension, one that is similar to America but just a bit off. I think I will be happy to go home though, even though I will probably also miss Paris. So far it's been everything I hoped and more.

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wingless was still breathing at 8:08 AM - 0 comments

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I see London, I see France...

If you're looking for pictures...well there aren't any yet. Instead I'm going to tell you about how I'm cranky and it's partly due to PMS but also partly due to the fact that I didn't get enough sleep yesterday which by the way was Valentine's Day which by the way I spent waiting to talk to my fiance on the phone except his plane to JFK ended up being diverted to Atlantic City where he spent 5-6 hours on the runway and then his cell phone died and they finally let him out into the airport where he found a computer and sent me an email but by then it was already 1 a.m.

That was a fun run-on sentence, wasn't it?

So now it is today but almost tomorrow and I STILL haven't actually been able to speak to Paul on the phone because he's been in some bank loan conference thingy all day and now I'm pretty sure his phone has died because it tends to die after simply being on for more than 2 hours.

So what does everybody think about me maybe telling Paul we should move to Paris because one of the professors offered to help me get into a couple companies I'd really love to get into but he only has connections in France. And possibly London. But who wants to go to crappy London where the food sucks and gum costs 15 dollars? Not me.

Paris I could tolerate for a couple years.

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wingless was still breathing at 1:41 PM - 0 comments

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

The end of an era...

For those of you who might have been wondering, yes, I did make it back. And in one piece even! But I'm not quite ready yet to talk about the ridiculous craziness that was Amsterdam. Mainly because when I got back the first thing I did was call my parents to let them know I survived and they told me my Nai Nai (grandma on my dad's side) passed away Friday evening.

She was 94 years old so it wasn't exactly unexpected, but at the same time, we weren't expecting it. The thought crossed my mind when I went to see her before my trip out here. I knew then that there was the possibility I might never see her again, but she's just been such a constant presence my whole life that I don't think I really believed she could die. In fact, I don't know if I really believe it yet.

The thing that upsets me the most in all of this is that I didn't get to be with her in her last days and moments and also that I won't get to be there when they bury her. It actually would be possible for me to take a trip home since the memorial is the day after my winter vacation (which lasts about 8 days or so) starts. But, of course, my parents are worried about my health and since she's already passed they don't see the point in me making a 10,000 mile round trip for a memorial service. They said Paul being there sort of in my place is good enough.

The other thing that upsets me is that she won't be at my wedding in July. I'm glad that she knew about it and she was excited about it but I guess I never expected the possibility that she wouldn't be there for it. She kept talking about how she couldn't wait...part of me wishes that we had done it last summer like my mom suggested even though it would have been ridiculously fast...but I do take solace in the fact that she became a Christian a couple years ago...

My grandmother was born at the end of the 20th century and she died at the beginning of the 21st. I know it's normal to feel this way after someone passes, but I wish I had spent more time with her. I wish I had asked her to tell me more stories. More about her life and all the things she'd seen. I wish I had been able to come home more during my college years and had made more trips to her nursing home once she moved in there.

I'm glad that my parents took such good care of her and spent so much time with her. I'm glad that they said she looked so peaceful. I'm glad that my parents didn't have to make any tough decisions like the one they were facing before she passed...the doctor told them that she would probably need a feeding tube which my parents were very against because my grandma LOOOVED to eat, especially in recent years, but without it the doctor said food would start going down the wrong pipe...so on the one hand they could sacrifice her quality of life by taking away one of her last enjoyments OR put her in hospice care to make her "as comfortable as possible."

Blah. I don't want to think about it so much anymore. It makes me worry about my other grandmother and even about my parents. My mom said my dad looks really tired. And my mom asked me if I'd be willing to be her power of attorney because this whole thing has got her thinking...

Sigh. Life.


wingless was still breathing at 3:29 PM - 1 comments

Thursday, February 08, 2007

One last thing before I go...

Do liberals/Democrats support the troops? John Hawkins' latest Townhall column pretty much puts that question to rest. Not to give away the ending or anything, but the answer to the question is a big fat N-O.


wingless was still breathing at 5:05 PM - 2 comments

See y'all suckers later

Gone fishin' (in Amsterdam for the weekend).


wingless was still breathing at 2:41 PM - 0 comments

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Sometimes I look up and it's like...holy crap I live in PARIS

For instance, when I poke my head out of a metro hole and see this...

Or this...("this" being the Champs Elysee)

Oh, oh, and here's one of my favorites...the Eiffel Tower when it lights up at night (picture taken near La Defense)

Or how about when you're looking for a creperie and you stumble across L'Opera instead?

Here's me and Punhea being goofy fobs...

And then there are the nights you get drunk in the Latin Quarter and stumble across some guy painting Che blindfolded. Paris...go figure!

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wingless was still breathing at 2:06 PM - 0 comments

File it under: yuck!

Yesterday I watched as my roommate peeled off what I can only guess were stinky, sweaty socks, from her feet before she balled them up and shoved them under one of her many pillows.

P.S. We share a bed (sleep head-to-toe) and the pillow she shoved them under was on my side of the bed.


wingless was still breathing at 3:06 AM - 0 comments

Sunday, February 04, 2007


Trust me, I know I'm no picnic to live with. I tend not to be the neatest person, sometimes I leave dishes out for longer than I should and more often than not I keep weird hours. The thing is, I think for the most part I recognize the things that I do which can be bothersome to roommates and I usually make an effort to minimize these things as much as possible.

All that being said, I don't like having roommates mainly because I hate confrontation and I hate having to do things like tell a roommate that the copious amounts of bengay she rubs on herself smells like buttcrack and gives me (and, I think, everyone else in the entire apartment) a giant headache. Plus I have a lot of pet peeves (like people who say "libary" or drop "are" and "is" out of sentences) and of course with my luck I end up living with someone who is constantly poking at the little grammar nazi who lives inside me.

It's amazing the things you don't notice about a person until you're forced to share a tiny space with them for a month.


wingless was still breathing at 6:24 AM - 1 comments

Friday, February 02, 2007

Will work for um...well mainly just money

So, hey, I'm looking for a job again. Um..anyone have a job lying around?

The worst thing about job hunting is how rejected I feel everytime I check my inbox and the only emails in there are asking me if I want penis cream or viagra. Sigh. Just give me a chance! I swear I don't even smell or anything.

Maybe I should put that on my cover letter.


wingless was still breathing at 6:44 AM - 1 comments

Thursday, February 01, 2007

More birthday-party-in-Paris goodness

I've been meaning to write, really, and I've been meaning to post pictures, really. I've just been uh...honestly? Lazy.

Last night we celebrated my roommate Punhea's birthday at "Le Petite Marche" (accent mark over that last "e") which Zagat described as "new French cuisine with an asian twist" and you know what? They were right. My French friends were a bit skeptical but they enjoyed their meal and the passion fruit creme brulee? Oohla! as the French would say. Worth every centime.

After dinner we walked back to a bar/restaurant near Pompidou for their delicious mojitos and to laugh at the pictures of Che and Castro plastered all over the walls (and jackets, hats, etc.). Came home for birthday cake and champagne, followed by European beer (which really is better than American swill) and passion fruit Malibu mixed with Orangina. Sometime after that I ended up with a myspace page which I maintain is my equivalent of waking up with a tattoo on the ass.

Pictures to follow. I will quit being so lazy at some point.

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wingless was still breathing at 5:42 AM - 0 comments

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