Well, I finally did it. I got myself a sports car. After several decades of pining, lusting, and suffering, I finally mustered up the mojo to satisfy my man itch.
And come to think of it, the thing’s not even really a sports car either. It’s more of an SUV meets minivan meets something fast (and furious 6).
What the heck is wrong with me? After spending my entire post-puberty life torturing my soul with the mantra, “one day I will get myself a sports car…one day…”, when I finally decide to pull the trigger, I don’t even opt for a sports car. It’s like going to a strip club for your first time and getting a lap dance from the janitor. Read more...
Well, if you’re a sushi connoisseur, you most likely have. It’s a firm whitefish that is succulent and incredibly rich in flavor. To eat one, properly sushi-prepared, is a guaranteed, oral orgasm. Well, at least it was for me the first time I had it – lightly seared with a dollop of apricot puree on top. You never forget your first time. I had three servings in less than 30 minutes. And I joyfully swallowed each and every creamy bite. Yum…
eat me
Never heard of Butterfish? Perhaps you may know it by it’s other aliases like “white tuna” or “super-white tuna” or “walu” or…“Escolar.“
Shooting out Escolar is far more ferocious than being shot by Escobar
Escolar? Yes, Escolar. That’s the fish’s real name before it went to culinary finishing school. Sounds kind of like Pablo Escobar, no? And just like the Columbian drug lord, we too should fear and respect this snake mackerel fish. For if you underestimate Escolar or Escobar, the final result is always predictably the same – bad shit happens. Read more...
I dropped the F-Bomb at least 50 times in fifteen seconds. At full volume. Right in the middle of Beverly Hills and right in the middle of the Beverly Hills sign.
Actually, I was slightly behind the Beverly Hills sign, parked, with all the doors of my minivan wide open and whacking my ride to the rhythm of my global, F-Bomb assault with, of all things, a baby towel – a baby towel covered in puke.
I was less than a quarter mile from an important TV audition when my 15 month old unloaded the entire contents of her stomach onto herself and the car seat that she was strapped into. This was not a cute, little baby spit-up, by the way. This vomit was on the order of The Exorcist. The only thing that didn’t come out were her internal organs. Read more...
Daddy’s log, zero three, zero one, two zero one two.
My 15 month old sleeps. In the bathroom. It’s the only place I can stick her that enables me to proceed with daily, adult activities without having to tip toe around everywhere. 1,144 square feet of living space makes you do strange things like this. To my credit, I did leave the toilet seat down to minimize foul odor and to prevent the baby from accidentally taking a refreshing drink from the potty. All so strange, I know. But for some reason, the baby seems to sleep best next to a toilet during the daytime hours. Don’t ask me why.
It has been two weeks since my babysitter left us to tend to her mother’s untimely death in the Far East. She phoned us 2 nights ago. The news was tragic – she would not be returning as our babysitter. She had found a new job closer to her home in the Americas. Turned out she lied about her mother’s passing so that she could test drive another job opportunity. She really had me with this whole “mother’s death” thing. Silly me for believing her…
So here I am, staring at my daughter. In the bathroom. Sleeping. Next to the toilet.
I’m curious because usually if you have an obsession (ie. passion, strong interest, mania, addiction, infatuation, fetish, etc.), you’re usually doing it, living it, and/or being it 110%, 24/7.
I’m not sure if it’s rare or common, but I’m curious how many of you have an unfulfilled obsession – something that you just love terribly and think about all the time but have not allowed yourself to fully experience or express.
So what’s your unfulfilled obsession (if you even have one)? I’m not talking fantasy, btw. I’m talking about something real and of this earth. Something that you absolutely love, but for some reason, have intentionally or unintentionally postponed.
I don’t have a babysitter right now. Her mother unexpectedly past so she left for Asia on Friday for a month or two (or three). I don’t have a geographically-convenient, sexy, Korean wife right now either. She just departed on a business trip for a week.
So without a sexy, Korean wife/mom and babysitter to help share in the daily, care schedule of my 2 baby girls, I find myself a bit short-handed at this very moment. Where is Jeremy Lin when you need him? C’mon #17, I needs yo help!
it's peaceful and serene. until the baby wakes...
Being home, alone with 2 baby girls is not easy (at least not for me). It’s not a child to parent ratio that I prefer. It’s exhausting at best and a very lonely space to be in. This happens to me from time to time – my parental support system going down unexpectedly. The work/social/daddy world that I so delicately constructed instantly explodes and I have to become 110% Daddy Fan 24/7 until reinforcements arrive. My personal and professional life must be lived, at best, in between naps. Read more...
To buy a home or not to buy a home? That is the question.
Actually, it’s no longer a question – I need to buy a home. Now. Yesterday. Last year.
I bought my first place in 2003. A simple 1,144 sf, 2bed/2bath condo in West LA/Santa Monica. It was a great value in a safe, urban, walk-to-everything location. I was single back then, so 1,144 square feet was more than enough room to accommodate my bachelor life. But today, I am no longer Fan Solo, but Fan Daddy-O, equipped with a wife and 2 fun baby girls. What was once a spacious and relaxing urban retreat is now a converted playground that just happens to have a kitchen, bathroom, and sleeping facilities. It’s time to move. Now. Yesterday. Into something bigger (than my current Chinese-Korean, estrogen-heavy, Toy’s-R-Us sardine can that I call home).
Our new home will not be this big. Perhaps 3/50th of 50's 50,000 sf...
So what do we need? Well…a house with more space, a backyard, in a safer neighborhood, and within a good public school district (kindergarten through high school). That’s what what we need.
But what do we want? Well, that’s a different story. We want a 3,800+ sf, green home of tomorrow, a large, low-maintenance backyard with a small pool, in an exceptionally safe neighborhood, within close walking distance of grocery stores, banks, parks, etc., a close/convenient commute to work, and all within a GREAT public school district. That’s what we want. A tall order, I know… Read more...
My body aches. All the time. My neck, my back, my rump – all sore and creeky 24/7, even after many, vigorous massage sessions via the bony hands of a cute Korean girl (my wife).
For over 3 years it’s been like this (which, ironically, is in parallel to my current tour of duty as a dad) . I rarely feel fresh, virile, or verdant anymore. For the span of over 1,000 days my bones have felt like glass and my muscles of frozen meat. In a nutshell, I hurt.
Why?
Am I unknowingly a zombie with limited decay and good teeth? Probably not. I still want to kiss my wife, not eat her.
or
Am I just working out too hard at the gym in order to maintain a perfect, Hollywood physique? Absolutely not. I have not worked out a day in the gym in over 3 years. And as such, I am well on my way of disproving the myth that Asian guys don’t have butts. This baby’s got some back. Come touch my creation if you wish. All of it. Read more...
In a few hours, I’ll be boarding a very early flight to Salt Lake City to join some of my fellow Offenders including Justin, Elaine and Anderson for the second half of the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Unlike the others, this is my first time at the fest. I try to avoid anything that reeks of Hollywood glitziness (which is why I also wasn’t there for the first half of the fest when most of the Paris Hilton types are in attendance), but with a YOMYOMF cabin this year and Anderson’s promise of coke and whores, I couldn’t resist.
And yes, everyone looks exactly the same 10 years later. Vampires or Asians?
And speaking of Sundance and first times, I should point out that Justin’s Better Luck Tomorrow premiered at Sundance exactly ten years ago this year. That was also the first trip to the fest for most of the Offenders—like Sung and Roger–who worked on the film (though not the last, many of the same crew would be back for Finishing the Game). Read more...
I’ve done a good number of TV commercials. It’s how I’ve made the majority of my living as an actor. It’s how many actors make their living as they continue to hunt for their place on a TV series or name status in Hollywood, studio movies.
"You talking to me? Or just needing a mortgage from Quicken Loans?"
It’s not the glamorous path. And in some instances, it’s something that both actor and their representatives struggle to downplay or even hide in order to create and maintain the seductive and elusive image of a Hollywood star. Cause you know…Hollywood stars-in-the-making don’t do TV commercials. They’ll entertain spokesperson contracts but they don’t do TV commercials (let alone audition for them).
But I do TV commercials. And I audition for them. I’ve done quite a few. At last count, I think I’m close to 100. Definitely over 70 and somewhere headed towards 100. So over 16 years, I’ve averaged about 6 TV commercials per year. For some, that number may seem pathetically low. For others, impossibly high. For me, I’m not sure what to make of it. All I know is that without TV commercials, I wouldn’t have had the ability to afford my acting career.
OK, so what commercials have I done? What have you seen me in that you didn’t know I was in? Well, I don’t have a formal list anywhere. So here’s a sampling off the top of my head. Here goes…
What? Did I hear that right? Did a girl friend of mine just emasculate me with a quick flick of her tongue?
I just stood there for about 6 seconds, face frozen with a half-smile, trying to figure out if what she had just said was a kick in the balls or a verbal embrace of understanding.
some days, I look like this. just less Ryan Gosling-ish...
It was the later. F-me, she was right. I am the girl in the relationship. Which means my Sexy-Korean-Wife-Lover-Mama is the man. Me? Girl. Wife? Man. How the heck did I lose my manhood so unexpectedly? It was like the tooth fairy visited me in my sleep, but instead of taking my tooth, she spirited away my penis. And she didn’t even leave a nickle – just a hole in my spiritual crotch. It sucks…yet I have nothing to suck. Read more...
Ten years ago on this date, we were about to start the second week of rehearsals for Terminus Americana, the new play that would kick-off the third season for Lodestone Theatre Ensemble, which was the Asian American theater company I had co-founded in 1999 and was co-Artistic Director of. Then 9/11 happened and, as it did for everyone else, our world changed.
We cancelled that night’s rehearsal and future rehearsals until further notice. At that moment, putting on a play didn’t seem important anymore. But over the next couple of days, we realized that we had to make a decision. Terminus Americana was scheduled to open in late October—we only had a month-and-a-half to put the show together so if we were going to do it, we had to start asap.
Already, our nation’s leaders were talking about the importance of Americans getting back to their normal routines so there was no doubt that we’d get back to doing what we did—producing plays. But the problem here was with Terminus Americana itself. The play, written by my talented writer friend Matt Pelfrey, told the story of Mac, a normal workingman who survives an office shooting that leaves most of his colleagues dead. Before the shooter (played by my fellow Offender Roger Fan) kills himself, he whispers a “secret” into Mac’s ear, which sets him off on a journey across a mythical America to find the answers behind this violent act. It was a play about America and violence, about how violence had become a sort of religion in the U.S., and how worshipping and feeding into that religion of violence would eventually come back to haunt us. Read more...
Well, I finally did it. I got myself a sports car. After several decades of pining, lusting, and suffering, I finally mustered up the mojo to satisfy my man itch.
Ever have Butterfish?
