1. its effing cold.
2. i miss home
3. efffffing coooold.
4. i love pizza
5. i shouldn't have left
6. im coming back on the 17th.
2. i miss home
3. efffffing coooold.
4. i love pizza
5. i shouldn't have left
6. im coming back on the 17th.
being chinese, the concept of xmas seems rooted only in the concept of "vacation days"...it seems forcefully contrived to have a family gathering, which is no different than a sunday lunch. for us, there's zero preparation and planning, and the big roasts (turkey, ham) are never necessity items for the elders as they exclusively prefer asian dishes. no one is going notice im not making the roast this year, no one is going to notice we don't have a tree up this year and if u did show up with presents u'd be the odd one out. bottom line is, there's a huge difference when holidays lack tradition. (huge disparity with chinese xmas' and chinese new year). and while 2nd generations try to create their niche in the western holidays, it seems the only staple is the night before the eve of the holiday. the night before a half day at work, the last night to hang out with friends and paint the town.
if we brought back 2005, we'd be taking a million pictures. unfortunately i have none. but to recap.
1. we went to noraebang for the sole purpose of franks frank. instead he decided to throw popcorn around.
2. drew, without looking at the music book, punched in 5 numbers and out comes "OTOWN ALL OR NOTHING". WTF!@#@!#!@#
3. fig & olive is overrated.
4. espresso in the middle of a huge night out doesn't make the stomach feel to nice the next morning.
if we brought back 2005, we'd be taking a million pictures. unfortunately i have none. but to recap.
1. we went to noraebang for the sole purpose of franks frank. instead he decided to throw popcorn around.
2. drew, without looking at the music book, punched in 5 numbers and out comes "OTOWN ALL OR NOTHING". WTF!@#@!#!@#
3. fig & olive is overrated.
4. espresso in the middle of a huge night out doesn't make the stomach feel to nice the next morning.
about 6 vodka soda's into dinner...i hear this....
"what u think ideally makes u happy and what in reality, actually makes u happy....are two different things"
"what u think ideally makes u happy and what in reality, actually makes u happy....are two different things"
while munching on an egg/sourcream/salami/siracha sandwich, this mornings breakfast question was at hand....
"with all factors considered, when in a relationship, what is a reasonable number of times for sex a week?"
"with all factors considered, when in a relationship, what is a reasonable number of times for sex a week?"
i just had a beef pattie...
not good.
blegh.
not good.
blegh.
a bit detached from the blog and a bit lost on where to pick up the pieces. but here goes a quick one....
there's a recession. a big big big recession. it's easy to say, but weird to feel it. every shop in the city has sales from 25-75% off. there's full inventory and no one in the stores. and after shopping all of soho and greeted with all the sales.i buy the one thing that is full price and owned by my buddy. JUMP shoes. for the people.
it's friggin cold. i haven't shoveled snow in ages. i haven't felt like my frigid face was about to fall off in ages either. i haven't eaten muenster cheese, ny pizza, kunjip, liverwurst, meatball sub, lucky strike, gameeok, Nha Hang Pho Viet Huong delivery...in ages either! ahh, the gameeok night. ricks. 8.8k tab. was it worth it? and i quote "i felt a lil guilty, but...it was awesome!"
i want a beef pattie.
then there's the morning after. the morning after thom bar. the morning after lower east side. the morning after kunjip. the morning after samgyupsul. "how you feeling?" rRRRRrRRRRIIIIIIiIiiIIIIPPpPpP "much better"...."ps3?" "ok"...."xbox?" "ok". productivity is inverted. except when it comes time to BANDIT.
apparently, the bandito has been upgraded. modern day bandito comes with an iphone and mobile browsing...back in full swing!
taisho tonight.
here's some missing pix...
held down with a bottle shoved down my throat
look at dem lips!
apparently everyone has a GF????
hoan still has the smallest waist in the picture....and he still dresses up like a cheerleader in his spare time.
this is the guy that used to preach to me about "treating your fish good", "michael jordan" and "do u know shirley du?". now he's looking to buy a chih hua hua....hahah...funny balls...
the only other degenerate i know that i always see out thanksgiving and xmas night.....rock on!
there's a recession. a big big big recession. it's easy to say, but weird to feel it. every shop in the city has sales from 25-75% off. there's full inventory and no one in the stores. and after shopping all of soho and greeted with all the sales.i buy the one thing that is full price and owned by my buddy. JUMP shoes. for the people.
it's friggin cold. i haven't shoveled snow in ages. i haven't felt like my frigid face was about to fall off in ages either. i haven't eaten muenster cheese, ny pizza, kunjip, liverwurst, meatball sub, lucky strike, gameeok, Nha Hang Pho Viet Huong delivery...in ages either! ahh, the gameeok night. ricks. 8.8k tab. was it worth it? and i quote "i felt a lil guilty, but...it was awesome!"
i want a beef pattie.
then there's the morning after. the morning after thom bar. the morning after lower east side. the morning after kunjip. the morning after samgyupsul. "how you feeling?" rRRRRrRRRRIIIIIIiIiiIIIIPPpPpP "much better"...."ps3?" "ok"...."xbox?" "ok". productivity is inverted. except when it comes time to BANDIT.
apparently, the bandito has been upgraded. modern day bandito comes with an iphone and mobile browsing...back in full swing!
taisho tonight.
here's some missing pix...
held down with a bottle shoved down my throat
look at dem lips!
apparently everyone has a GF????
hoan still has the smallest waist in the picture....and he still dresses up like a cheerleader in his spare time.
this is the guy that used to preach to me about "treating your fish good", "michael jordan" and "do u know shirley du?". now he's looking to buy a chih hua hua....hahah...funny balls...
the only other degenerate i know that i always see out thanksgiving and xmas night.....rock on!
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4 days of hanging out with victor....
and all my clothes feel ridiculously tight...
why?
samgyupsul @ 4am!
jeezus.
and all my clothes feel ridiculously tight...
why?
samgyupsul @ 4am!
jeezus.
hey will, u remember these pics? cuz i don't. and what the heck is on my wrist?
what's better? apple tv? or xbox live with netflix?
and do both of them work in asia?
pls let me know... thanks.
and do both of them work in asia?
pls let me know... thanks.
we're in a recession? hahaha...
http://www.nypost.com/pagesixmag/issues/20081123/Desperately+Seeking+Sugar+Daddies
Desperately Seeking Sugar Daddies
With Wall Street crashing, it's hard to be a gold digger these days. So what are the lovely ladies accustomed to bottle service at Bijoux, $500 dinners at Bouley and $8,000 shopping sprees at Bergdorf to do when the bankers who fueled their excess are suddenly out of work? Joshua David Stein finds out.
By Joshua David Stein
Photo: Veer
"Everyone is looking for handsome, rich men, but there are less and less of them to go around," says one gold digger.
The white marble bar of the Meatpacking District hot spot Bistro Bagatelle is littered with $500 Louis Vuitton knockoff clutches—fakes, but nice fakes. Hovering over them are the anxious blonde women (fakes, but nice fakes too) to whom the bags belong. These are Manhattan's gold diggers—ladies of little means and big ambitions, who hope to use their looks to nab a rich man, better highlights and perhaps even a real Vuitton clutch. This bar is their mine. But in the middle of the worst financial crisis the city has faced since the Great Depression, there's little gold in "them thar hills."
The only thing missing on this Tuesday night in October is bankers. There are no scotches or whiskeys or hairy wrists wearing expensive watches resting on the bar. The few gents there are at Bagatelle are seated together, speaking in low, somber tones over plates of coquilles St. Jacques and bottles of Médoc. Three young Bulgarian women at the bar are getting restless. Sophie—23, blonde and a real estate broker—wears a cream cashmere sweater with a neckline that plunges like the Dow. Her friend Emilaya, 23, is a student at CUNY who resembles Scarlett Johansson. Their third friend, another beautiful Bulgarian, doesn't speak English. It doesn't matter. Three single Slavs, and still no one has approached them. Sophie sighs and sips her Pinot gris. "It's getting harder and harder to find a good man," she says. "Everyone is looking for handsome, rich and charming men but there are less and less of them to go around." Since the financial markets started collapsing back in March, wealthy Prince Charmings, already an endangered species on the nightlife scene, have become almost completely extinct. The handsome ones aren't charming, the charming ones aren't handsome and many of the rich ones are now poor.
There seemed to be a time during the most recent Wall Street bubble when natural selection and free market capitalism had achieved a perfect equilibrium. Men arrived in New York, equipped with degrees in finance or perhaps just a family friend's business card, to get rich. They came with different ranks—hedgies, traders, analysts, consultants—and together formed the infantry of a hungry Gordon Gekko–like army. As necessary as the Soho House membership or the weekend share in the Hamptons (south of the highway, thank you very much!) was a cute piece of arm candy. These were to be had, at the right price, by the dozen, any night of the week at hot spots like Bagatelle, 1Oak and Kiss & Fly. For a long time, the system worked. The more money that was paid, the more men that were laid, the more ladies that were made.
Well, it was good while it lasted. Since August, the Federal Reserve reports, Wall Street has lost 9,000 jobs, or about 5 percent of total employment. And it will only get worse. According to the report, "The city's finance sector stands on the verge of a significant multiyear downturn in employment and in real earnings." Up to 78,000 more jobs will likely be lost and many of those who remain employed will see their salaries slashed as bonuses disappear. What does this mean for Sophie? She adjusts her sweater downward and frowns. "There's much more competition," she says, anxiously eyeing the door.
With a supply of supple honeys outstripping demand, men are now choosier and even more fickle than usual. Ted Morgan, co-author of How to Marry a Multi-Millionaire: The Ultimate Guide to High Net Worth Dating, says, "There is an increased sense of desperation among women about dating, and men can sense this." Beggars, they figure, can't be choosers. Stacey, a raven-haired IT engineer, is single but shouldn't be. At any other time, in fact, she wouldn't be. The 31-year-old, who boasts of dating a well-known reality star and a slew of high-net-worth individuals, is accustomed to dinners at Ono and Markt, Nicolas Feuillatte champagne by the jeroboam and—if indeed she did end the night in her own home—being chauffeured there in a hired Town Car. But, she says, those Sex and the City salad days are over. She complains, "It sucks to be a single girl right now"—in large part because strapped Wall Street guys are spending less on dates. A typical night out during these troubled times may still be at Buddakan, but it will just as likely be for wine at the bar rather than a table laden with $44 Peking duck. According to one 29-year-old trader who lives in Murray Hill, "We don't have time or money to spend hundreds of dollars on a girl. If it's a drink and it doesn't go anywhere, well, at least I'm cutting back."
Today, women drinking paid-for saketinis are among the lucky few. Staceys and Sophies all over the city—women who six months ago subsisted on a steady diet of underwritten dinners followed by a night of bottle service at Marquee or Rose Bar—are waiting for their Sidekicks to vibrate. Sophie is broken up about a recently pink-slipped relationship with a Lehman brother. "I was dating this guy for a couple of weeks," she says, "and all of a sudden he just stopped calling me. For weeks, I waited. Finally he called. He had lost his job and was too ashamed to tell me."
And being unemployed is not hot. Real estate broker Sammy, a 37-year-old "single girl in the dating scene" (who would rather keep her real name private so that her boss doesn't know she's a gold digger), wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Will I knowingly date somebody who is in the sh--ter right now? Probably not." Sophie agrees, "I would never go out with someone who came up to me and said, 'I don't have a job.' " Emilaya shakes her head. "No, no, no." Even the non-English speaker shakes her head no. It's universal: No banking job, no service.
Back at Bagatelle, three young beautiful Turks smoke Camels outside in the cold. One is blonde, one is brunette and one is shivering in a T-shirt that reads "I Heart NY." Two appear to be models, or at least "models." (The other works in finance.) "When we go out there are usually four guys buying us drinks. Now there is only one," sighs the petite 24-year-old brunette. "Guys just aren't going out as much. Plus, men aren't buying bottle service so there are no tables to invite women back to." The other two nod ruefully.
But all downturns have their upsides. Just as the Wall Street apocalypse has been a boon to short sellers—those who bet against the stock market—so too has the scarcity of marketable men been a boon to, well, men. In some ways, the slowdown has created space for true love to flourish. Win Hornig, 25, a former analyst for the now defunct Bear Stearns who pens the blog Banker Gone Broke, isn't on the dating scene anymore. He met his girlfriend, a former Lehman Brothers analyst, through a mutual friend over a dinner at Country last month, when he still had a job but the market was cooling off. "If the market was busy, we would have never met. We both would have been at the office instead." Win's a winner, but today even losers can score. According to Ted, "You used to hear women say, 'I'd never date anyone who makes less than $1 million.' You don't hear that anymore. The number is getting lower and lower and lower." Stacey says now when she goes out on dates she asks herself, "Does this person have EP—earning potential? Even if he's a janitor, I'd give him a chance." But Stacey would do well to learn from the market. Trading in futures is risky business.
http://www.nypost.com/pagesixmag/issues/20081123/Desperately+Seeking+Sugar+Daddies
Desperately Seeking Sugar Daddies
With Wall Street crashing, it's hard to be a gold digger these days. So what are the lovely ladies accustomed to bottle service at Bijoux, $500 dinners at Bouley and $8,000 shopping sprees at Bergdorf to do when the bankers who fueled their excess are suddenly out of work? Joshua David Stein finds out.
By Joshua David Stein
Photo: Veer
"Everyone is looking for handsome, rich men, but there are less and less of them to go around," says one gold digger.
The white marble bar of the Meatpacking District hot spot Bistro Bagatelle is littered with $500 Louis Vuitton knockoff clutches—fakes, but nice fakes. Hovering over them are the anxious blonde women (fakes, but nice fakes too) to whom the bags belong. These are Manhattan's gold diggers—ladies of little means and big ambitions, who hope to use their looks to nab a rich man, better highlights and perhaps even a real Vuitton clutch. This bar is their mine. But in the middle of the worst financial crisis the city has faced since the Great Depression, there's little gold in "them thar hills."
The only thing missing on this Tuesday night in October is bankers. There are no scotches or whiskeys or hairy wrists wearing expensive watches resting on the bar. The few gents there are at Bagatelle are seated together, speaking in low, somber tones over plates of coquilles St. Jacques and bottles of Médoc. Three young Bulgarian women at the bar are getting restless. Sophie—23, blonde and a real estate broker—wears a cream cashmere sweater with a neckline that plunges like the Dow. Her friend Emilaya, 23, is a student at CUNY who resembles Scarlett Johansson. Their third friend, another beautiful Bulgarian, doesn't speak English. It doesn't matter. Three single Slavs, and still no one has approached them. Sophie sighs and sips her Pinot gris. "It's getting harder and harder to find a good man," she says. "Everyone is looking for handsome, rich and charming men but there are less and less of them to go around." Since the financial markets started collapsing back in March, wealthy Prince Charmings, already an endangered species on the nightlife scene, have become almost completely extinct. The handsome ones aren't charming, the charming ones aren't handsome and many of the rich ones are now poor.
There seemed to be a time during the most recent Wall Street bubble when natural selection and free market capitalism had achieved a perfect equilibrium. Men arrived in New York, equipped with degrees in finance or perhaps just a family friend's business card, to get rich. They came with different ranks—hedgies, traders, analysts, consultants—and together formed the infantry of a hungry Gordon Gekko–like army. As necessary as the Soho House membership or the weekend share in the Hamptons (south of the highway, thank you very much!) was a cute piece of arm candy. These were to be had, at the right price, by the dozen, any night of the week at hot spots like Bagatelle, 1Oak and Kiss & Fly. For a long time, the system worked. The more money that was paid, the more men that were laid, the more ladies that were made.
Well, it was good while it lasted. Since August, the Federal Reserve reports, Wall Street has lost 9,000 jobs, or about 5 percent of total employment. And it will only get worse. According to the report, "The city's finance sector stands on the verge of a significant multiyear downturn in employment and in real earnings." Up to 78,000 more jobs will likely be lost and many of those who remain employed will see their salaries slashed as bonuses disappear. What does this mean for Sophie? She adjusts her sweater downward and frowns. "There's much more competition," she says, anxiously eyeing the door.
With a supply of supple honeys outstripping demand, men are now choosier and even more fickle than usual. Ted Morgan, co-author of How to Marry a Multi-Millionaire: The Ultimate Guide to High Net Worth Dating, says, "There is an increased sense of desperation among women about dating, and men can sense this." Beggars, they figure, can't be choosers. Stacey, a raven-haired IT engineer, is single but shouldn't be. At any other time, in fact, she wouldn't be. The 31-year-old, who boasts of dating a well-known reality star and a slew of high-net-worth individuals, is accustomed to dinners at Ono and Markt, Nicolas Feuillatte champagne by the jeroboam and—if indeed she did end the night in her own home—being chauffeured there in a hired Town Car. But, she says, those Sex and the City salad days are over. She complains, "It sucks to be a single girl right now"—in large part because strapped Wall Street guys are spending less on dates. A typical night out during these troubled times may still be at Buddakan, but it will just as likely be for wine at the bar rather than a table laden with $44 Peking duck. According to one 29-year-old trader who lives in Murray Hill, "We don't have time or money to spend hundreds of dollars on a girl. If it's a drink and it doesn't go anywhere, well, at least I'm cutting back."
Today, women drinking paid-for saketinis are among the lucky few. Staceys and Sophies all over the city—women who six months ago subsisted on a steady diet of underwritten dinners followed by a night of bottle service at Marquee or Rose Bar—are waiting for their Sidekicks to vibrate. Sophie is broken up about a recently pink-slipped relationship with a Lehman brother. "I was dating this guy for a couple of weeks," she says, "and all of a sudden he just stopped calling me. For weeks, I waited. Finally he called. He had lost his job and was too ashamed to tell me."
And being unemployed is not hot. Real estate broker Sammy, a 37-year-old "single girl in the dating scene" (who would rather keep her real name private so that her boss doesn't know she's a gold digger), wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Will I knowingly date somebody who is in the sh--ter right now? Probably not." Sophie agrees, "I would never go out with someone who came up to me and said, 'I don't have a job.' " Emilaya shakes her head. "No, no, no." Even the non-English speaker shakes her head no. It's universal: No banking job, no service.
Back at Bagatelle, three young beautiful Turks smoke Camels outside in the cold. One is blonde, one is brunette and one is shivering in a T-shirt that reads "I Heart NY." Two appear to be models, or at least "models." (The other works in finance.) "When we go out there are usually four guys buying us drinks. Now there is only one," sighs the petite 24-year-old brunette. "Guys just aren't going out as much. Plus, men aren't buying bottle service so there are no tables to invite women back to." The other two nod ruefully.
But all downturns have their upsides. Just as the Wall Street apocalypse has been a boon to short sellers—those who bet against the stock market—so too has the scarcity of marketable men been a boon to, well, men. In some ways, the slowdown has created space for true love to flourish. Win Hornig, 25, a former analyst for the now defunct Bear Stearns who pens the blog Banker Gone Broke, isn't on the dating scene anymore. He met his girlfriend, a former Lehman Brothers analyst, through a mutual friend over a dinner at Country last month, when he still had a job but the market was cooling off. "If the market was busy, we would have never met. We both would have been at the office instead." Win's a winner, but today even losers can score. According to Ted, "You used to hear women say, 'I'd never date anyone who makes less than $1 million.' You don't hear that anymore. The number is getting lower and lower and lower." Stacey says now when she goes out on dates she asks herself, "Does this person have EP—earning potential? Even if he's a janitor, I'd give him a chance." But Stacey would do well to learn from the market. Trading in futures is risky business.
a squirrel just came through my chimney and ran through my living room.....
?????@?#!@?#?!?@#
?????@?#!@?#?!?@#
i've been back in NY for 3 days and i feel culture shock. maybe it's the frigid feeling that my face is about to fall off every time i step outside, but after being away for 1.5 years, i feel out of place. im always loud and i always drink. that hasn't changed. but i find that sometimes when telling a story, im so used to using certain chinese slangs that when forced to english only, i hiccup the punch line. usually, my comeback assimilation takes 1 day max. i'm at day three and i feel a bit slow. probably doesn't help that the month long bday celebration has hit the midway point with CHUNG AND VICTOR STRAPPING ME TO A CHAIR, HOLDING MY FOREHEAD AND NECK BACK AND FORCING ME TO CHUG GREY GOOSE, CUERVO, JWALKER. within 1 hour i was done. i woke up and found puke on the bedstand, the floor and the bathroom. sorry chomo.
i ate pretzels today. i can't remember the last time i had pretzels.
also...i had deli sliced muenster cheese and liverwurst. a staple in my household. definitely 2 years since my last liverwurst.
NY PIZZA!!! it's not the same anywhere else~
i ate pretzels today. i can't remember the last time i had pretzels.
also...i had deli sliced muenster cheese and liverwurst. a staple in my household. definitely 2 years since my last liverwurst.
NY PIZZA!!! it's not the same anywhere else~
and i quote
"alex back in town for one night with all of us getting drunk has already taken our behavior back in time 3 years. "
"alex back in town for one night with all of us getting drunk has already taken our behavior back in time 3 years. "
thanks everyone.
i feel like death.
lets do it again tonight!
i feel like death.
lets do it again tonight!
lin lin sits in this corner all day and eats all day
it's feeding time!
tumbling and somersaults all day!
it's feeding time!
tumbling and somersaults all day!
quick recap of the past 4 days without internet...
i've been in macau @ the venetian in a suite...with my mom.
everyday consisted of dim sum, abalone, shark fin, 大甲蟹, wine, chivas royal salute, and congee.
cirque du soleil zaia sucked. we fell asleep.
i ended up @ a ktv sunday night with a self proclaimed doctor (夜晚醫生）because he grabbed so many boobies that he's an expert.
that same night, i saw 2 sets of huge boobies, both grabbed by the doctor and by the 63 year old grandma that was with us.
in the background, they were playing my moms live dvd concert.
while drinking the tray's of mini-shots, the grandma proceeded to tell me about how love doesn't last with pretty girls and i will be heartbroken in 3 years.
i got sea sick on the ferry back.
did i mention i wore the same outfit for 4 days?
canto people are outta control vain, ridiculously superficial...so before auntie ma's bday dinner, i had to buy a sweater to change things up.
some pictures.
i've been in macau @ the venetian in a suite...with my mom.
everyday consisted of dim sum, abalone, shark fin, 大甲蟹, wine, chivas royal salute, and congee.
cirque du soleil zaia sucked. we fell asleep.
i ended up @ a ktv sunday night with a self proclaimed doctor (夜晚醫生）because he grabbed so many boobies that he's an expert.
that same night, i saw 2 sets of huge boobies, both grabbed by the doctor and by the 63 year old grandma that was with us.
in the background, they were playing my moms live dvd concert.
while drinking the tray's of mini-shots, the grandma proceeded to tell me about how love doesn't last with pretty girls and i will be heartbroken in 3 years.
i got sea sick on the ferry back.
did i mention i wore the same outfit for 4 days?
canto people are outta control vain, ridiculously superficial...so before auntie ma's bday dinner, i had to buy a sweater to change things up.
some pictures.
it's dec 5th. we've kicked off the month-long festivities already.
DIAMONDS DIAMONDS DIAMONDS!
DIAMONDS DIAMONDS DIAMONDS!
for the past 1.5 years, i've been flirting with 2 gigs remaining space on my HD (even after i bought an external HD). a big reason for this, other than procrastinated file organization, is in order to keep up with non-chinese pop music, i parasite the yousendit mp3's my buddies share with me. and the best time to review all new jams is at the gym, on the treadmill, an extended period of time, where your head jolts up and down and your body rhythmically goes no where. your body hurts and your face is covered in sweat. you do nothing but stare at 180 degrees in front of you and listen to music.
i find the random insertions of bad songs in ur playlist is a good motivator on the treadmill. i get really angry when these songs come on, and know that it can only possible last 3-5 minutes and pump angrily hard for faster finit of the song. anyone else share that feeling?
i find the random insertions of bad songs in ur playlist is a good motivator on the treadmill. i get really angry when these songs come on, and know that it can only possible last 3-5 minutes and pump angrily hard for faster finit of the song. anyone else share that feeling?
i was up last night chatting cuz IM MOTHER EFFIN EXCITED TO GO HOME! and from the looks of my messenger convo's, the local party might actually be happier, ehem chomo. he parallels my return as a savior with an axe ready to hack away at houses to save the burning souls inside them. i shrug these notions of wrecking houses as traditional bi-annual holiday festivities and i'll pass savior duties to one who can revive the economy. i stayed up to finish shawshank redemption on tv, when i switch back to cnn, another titanic of a day in the markets.
"i told you so"
i had a discussion the other day about family business and how much futile energy can you put in before you give up? if they're not going to listen to pure statistical data, heed credible data, cut losses and steer away from antiquated methods of finance (cuz they've been bleeding for years already), when do you *sigh* and let them do what they are ultimately going to do in the end anyway?
after some discussion, the answer: "...it depends on how much money is at stake"
i had a think about that. fair enough.
"i told you so"
i had a discussion the other day about family business and how much futile energy can you put in before you give up? if they're not going to listen to pure statistical data, heed credible data, cut losses and steer away from antiquated methods of finance (cuz they've been bleeding for years already), when do you *sigh* and let them do what they are ultimately going to do in the end anyway?
after some discussion, the answer: "...it depends on how much money is at stake"
i had a think about that. fair enough.
