A Great Story Followed By a Sad Story

This post is going to BLOW UP from all the photos. IT’S LIKE A PHOTO BOMB except in the good way.

I’ve always been pretty into Halloween — I don’t know from where it stems, but it probably has a lot to do with dressing up, free candy, and partying. I love dressing up, free candy, and partying.

Photo courtesy of gettyimages.com

My first memory of an awesome costume was from 1989 when I was one of the most legitimate looking mermaids you’ve ever seen. And we’re not talking Ariel from “The Little Mermaid” — no no. I had a nude colored leotard with iridescent lavender seashells and a rhinestone belly button and the best damn mermaid fins you’ve ever seen. Mom toiled over those mermaid fins and made them out of fabric that was clearly intended for nothing but Halloween costume mermaid fins.

Someday I’ll procure a picture of it and post it all over the Internet because things like that need to be shared with the masses.

I had a brief period of time when I put very little thought into my costumes, but here’s the thing. And it’s not a cop-out, I swear. Halloween is tricky when you’re Asian-American. “Oh, you’re Asian Snow White?” “No. Just Snow White.” You can probably see the conundrum. So I chose generic things like “I’m a caterer” or “I’m a waiter” (that tux shirt I had for the choir select ensemble sure came in handy) because I lacked the imagination and motivation to be anything else.

Photo courtesy of gettyimages.com
This isn’t me, by the way.

But then I got over the slump and started putting together costumes like Lady Gaga (yeah, that happened, and no, I wasn’t Asian Lady Gaga) and the magic was back on. Suddenly I realized I could be anything I wanted.

This is me, by the way.

But even with the newfound imagination, I still found myself in a bit of a pickle come October. “What if people don’t get it?” You can only be Lucy Liu so many years of your life. So you can only imagine how wondrous it was for me, and I presume Asian-Americans everywhere, when PSY became famous.

And not just a little famous. A lot famous.

Image courtesy of last.fm

It only felt appropriate this year that I be him for Halloween. And not an Asian version. Just the real McCoy, if you will (and you will). So when a good friend invited me to a karaoke/costume contest at a local pizza buffet (it was only shy free candy, but the mass amounts of sugar topped dessert pizzas made up for it), I had to jump (like a horseman) at the opportunity.

The Great Story

I looked like this all night long:

Heyyyyyyyyyy sexy lady

And I sounded like this:

The Sad Story

Some little white girl decided to be PSY for Halloween as well at this karaoke/costume party. This, in and of itself, wasn’t really problematic for me. After all, she just looked like a chick with too much hair gel, wearing her dad’s suit.

But then she sang “Gangnam Style”.

In Korean.

I’ve never been particularly fond of those who one-up me when I’m clearly putting forth great effort to be awesome. I told myself that it didn’t really matter — I’m from the right country, I had shorter hair, she might be a really big nerd for memorizing a song in a different language than her own. But no matter. The one-uppance had happened and there was nothing I could do about it.

Advertisements

Well, It Happened Again

Disclaimer: this is going to be kind of complainy. I’m an unabashed complainer sometimes. You’re welcome.

I try to avoid using too many colloquialisms, but I had such a Monday today, and there are really no other ways to describe it beyond being such a Monday. I have a friend who only works Tuesdays through Fridays , and I’m starting to see the appeal.

But I also see the appeal of not working ever.

It was one of those “I don’t have a whole lot to do” days that, in the very last hour, turned into one of those “I have so much to do I’m not only going to work an hour and fifteen minutes past the time I normally go home, but I’m also going to be an hour late for a meeting” days. And those are always fun. And I discovered, after being hot, sweaty, and somewhat irritable, that Monday afternoons around 4:30 are, quite possibly, the worst times to go shopping at Costco. This is something I should have realized, what with being Mormon and living amongst a thousand families who have lots of kids who eat a lot of food and have a special evening at home all about families called — this is going to probably surprise you — Family Home Evening on Mondays.

I know, I know, I’m being all facetious in the bad way. I’m sorry.

But let’s get back to that meeting to which I was an hour late. It wasn’t a work meeting per se, although it was with a work contact on a more personal matter, and I should lead in with, “It wasn’t him.” He’s a nice guy, that Craig. You stop by Utah County sometime and deal with a guy named Craig, well, expect him to be nice. But he had a coworker he introduced me to who was, well … You know I don’t think I’ll actually speak to his character quite yet.

Craig introduced me as being Mary N—– because, well, that’s who I am (not giving you my entire last name makes me feel all sneaky and mysterious, by the way, even though the majority of you already know it — hi, Mom! Any opportunity to feel like a ninja, I suppose). And coworker of the year shook my hand and said, “Mary N—–, huh? You look like a traditional Mary N—–. All-American. Nice.”, which actually meant, “You look like your name should be Ching Chang Chong.”

He meant that in jest, of course, and had I not been representing BYU to a certain degree, I probably would have told him he looked like a traditional, all-American a-hole.

 

Oh, I realized the other day, it would be good for me to repost my email address for those of you interested in sharing your low points with me for THE CONTEST (note the all caps this time because I’m being all serious n stuff): thelowpointoftheday[at]gmail[dot]com

I Think it’s Time for a Contest

Before you get all excited, thinking about all the things other bloggers have doled out via contest, you should calm yourself down and realize the only thing I am bringing to the table is a $5 Amazon gift card, which will be emailed to you.

Image courtesy of hmvdigital.com
You could buy this off Amazon.com with a $5 gift card. You’re welcome.

Oh, there they all go. All of them, just scattering like ants at the sight of a Raid can.

Well, for the one of you who stayed, here’s The Plan:

I want to hear your low point stories. I want to hear your friends’ low point stories. I want to hear your friends’ friends’ low point stories (and so on), and I will then choose the absolute best/funniest/lowest point and publish it directly to this blog, which has, like, eleven regular readers.

I know. I’m offering the chance of a lifetime here.

The Criteria

You could technically email me a truly sad low point, but I should say right now that people don’t like to be truly sad while reading a humor blog.

You’ve probably noticed that I put little swears in every once in awhile (at the chagrin of my mother and Husband), but I don’t like the big swears. And you know what the big swears are, people. Let’s keep this PG. ish.

The contest begins now and will end on Thursday, the 16th, only because that is a week away and I have OCD, so a week away sounds the best. I’ll accept entries till 11:59 pm Mountain Standard Time — anything after that will actually also be accepted unless I’ve already published the winner, and then I’ll read it and totally commiserate with you.

One entry per person, so choose the bestest one you’ve got.

You may send your submission to: thelowpointoftheday@gmail.com

… Aaaaaaaaaaaaand go!