So back in 2008, after many years of living in this great country, I became a naturalized citizen. The swearing-in ceremony was in a federal courtroom, under the impassive gazes of judges from long ago whose portraits lined the walls. I got no miniature American flag, a wrong that was righted when a co-worker gave me one when I went to the office. I think I celebrated this occasion by going to IHOP.
Since then, I’ve been able to exercise some of the benefits of US citizenship. I have a US passport that permits me visa-free travel to more places than my Philippine passport ever could. I have voted in various elections.
There are also obligations to citizenship, one of which is serving on a jury. Something I’d been able to avoid the first two times I got a notice to appear for jury duty service.
- First notice – not a citzen yet! Illinois pulls names from the DMV and voter registration rolls. A simple call got me out of it.
- Second notice – my last name did not start with a letter in the range of names they needed.
- Third notice – FUCK.
I am actually quite fat.
I’m fat pretty much everywhere, from the top of my big old Charlie Brown head to the bottoms of my Fred Flintstone feet. Fat everywhere except for two places.
Here, and here.
If I had to pick any two places on my body to be medium or even just a little undersized, it definitely would not have been in the tits.
My Tuesday night was awesome.
I attended the launch for Dan Sinker’s book “The F***ing Epic Twitter Quest of @MayorEmanuel” (buy it next week when it comes out!) at The Hideout. The party was awesome, with slamming music (thanks to the DJ/Chicago CTO John Tolva/@immerito) and awesome new friends (hey Anna!) and old friends (Kelly and her friend Todd and Jenni!) and holy shit the actual Mayor stopped by to meet some folks and sign a book or two.
I didn’t buy a book (yet) or an awesome t-shirt but I did buy a Quaxelrod (because I love all ducks real and not real) button after enjoying an evening of amazing readings. An evening of amazing readings and Jeff Tweedy playing the music of the Black Eyed Peas.
I guess I’ve been going about this job search business the wrong way, and I need to get in touch with these folks about finding and keeping
“Little Boy Applies to Be Director Of Museum, Gets Hired (The One)” (via Urlesque):
His case for candidacy? “I have an electruk train track. I am good on my train track. I can control 2 trains at once.”
The board at the museum were so impressed with Sam’s enthusiasm that they’ve named him the Director of Fun, and he’s even held his first board meeting.
Okay, this is cute. But I’m still feeling kinda hate-y. Can a girl get some cover letter advice? Namely, do I write it out in crayon or marker?
by Guest Contributor KRS-1
The numbers are disheartening: 20.4 million African-American women between the ages of 25 and 64; 18.6 million men. Even if every single Black man paired up with a sista, that leaves approximately 1.8 million women at loose ends. A small, but growing number of sistas are starting to consider dating, mating and relating outside the race.
Ask most Black women if they have ever considered dating a white guy, and you will most likely hear something along the lines of “I just don’t find white men attractive,” accompanied by the matching gas face. However, speaking with dozens [hundreds?] of sistas has revealed the phenomenon I call “The Secret White Boy”.
@cinnachick, @PoppyBuxom, & @ChronicBabe are awesome
Originally uploaded by jasmined
This is the post in which I meant to post gorgeous pictures, witty recaps, and even more gorgeous pictures! Alas, most of my pictures were silly (see above) and I am running low on wit. While I deal with these self-induced blows to my ego, please set yourself to looking forward to my eventual BlogHer ’09 recap, where I will:
Filed under Asian, humor, video
PS: I think my burrito-eating days are behind me. This is troublesome, as I live in a neighborhood rife with great Mexican food. Help!
Filed under humor, twitter
Filed under humor, twitter