"dude get the eff out of there"

you go somewhere for an interview and come back with stitches. that's never a good sign. and after a week on the west, i think i've crossed off most of the to do's. mexican food. in and out animal style burgers. hollywood. fake breasts. traffic. mall shopping. sunglasses and people watching. i didn't get a chance to eat korean bbq cuz other than the new lax laws on US visa's for koreans that have created a huge influx of korean hookers in k-town, i didn't want to emanate smokey grilled beef and sesame oil. so post grammy's and amidst a recession, we had nine-thirty because the online menu looked promising with a raw bar and french bistro type fare. unfortunately the menu turned out to be american style steak-frites which meant overcooked beef and dry pork, which luckily was not my portion because i stuck with the upper half of the menu; salad, brussel sprouts and a bottle of hitching post. a great wine. i recommend it. not the restaurant.

i still luv you didi.


thank you alexia and michael!


so i was just asking my mom her opinion on the lapel on my suit. she, disinterested, replied with a terse "ok" which immediately followed a "我問你一個問題...are those scars on your hand going to heal? cuz it's really ugly". i would think that most moms would first ask "how's your hand doing? are you in pain? did you put on the ointment?" but of course, superstar mom only cares about the scar. it's these little things that you grow up with that essentially mold a bigger fraction of your adult life. in fact, the scar was the first thing i thought of when i got the bite.