I may or may not have used this title; the google is giving me conflicting messages. Either way, don't say this in class, Claire. It has a not-nice word.
A few months ago, to demonstrate the sampling powers of Stata, our professor used the program to randomly draw 8 names out of the hundred-plus students in the class. Those lucky students would have dinner with him. I was one of those students. For everyone else in the group, tonight was a chance for the professor to get to know them, earn brownie points, and get a free meal. A win-win-win. But I beat the odds and lost on all 3.
Things went downhill almost from the start:
Waiter: Would anyone like anything to drink?
Prof: Go ahead, guys, feel free to order whatever you'd like.
Moi: Vietnamese coffee, iced.
Everyone else at the table: "Water" "Water" "Water"..."Water"
Prof: I'll just have water, please.
Then there was Captain Bloody Heart:
Moi: Interesting, everyone is getting pho. (I got vermicelli)
Bloody Boy: I just love that stuff.
Moi: I do, too, but I don't trust broth I haven't tested. (1. Not in a Vietnamese neighborhood, 2. has the name of an herb in the restaurant name, and 3. all English menu- you'd be suspicious, too)
Bloody Boy: Oh, I've learned to eat whatever is given to me. After spending time in Kenya, I'm grateful for all food.
Hearing this, I couldn't decide between throwing up or slapping the boy (brass knuckles seem severe, Zvi), but everyone else regarded Captain Bloody Heart with fondness, so I held my tongue. This allowed the professor to turn to me for my one-on-one spotlight of the night:
Professor: So do you believe there should be one China?
Totally bringing brass knuckles to class.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Father Knows
Times when it's useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers are nicer to you).
-Weekends (too busy to notice whatever you're planning).
-Christmas (so many presents, though they're usually cheap chocolates).
Times when it's not useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers expect you to be "mature" and a "role model" and "stop picking on the new kid").
-Weekends (so many hours at church).
-Any time Father brings God into the argument.
Moi: With [brother's] vertigo due to allergies and my skin allergies, we have some terrible genes. And who do we have to thank for this?
Father: Are you blaming God? Are you saying your Creator didn't make you right?
-Sunday School (teachers are nicer to you).
-Weekends (too busy to notice whatever you're planning).
-Christmas (so many presents, though they're usually cheap chocolates).
Times when it's not useful to have a preacher father:
-Sunday School (teachers expect you to be "mature" and a "role model" and "stop picking on the new kid").
-Weekends (so many hours at church).
-Any time Father brings God into the argument.
Moi: With [brother's] vertigo due to allergies and my skin allergies, we have some terrible genes. And who do we have to thank for this?
Father: Are you blaming God? Are you saying your Creator didn't make you right?
Split Ends
Dear Times.
Life would be so much less fun without you. An article today indicates that this man just got an expensive hair cut but I feel like this is a page from Highlights and I'm failing to spot 5 differences.
PS. I guess there's still fat to trim at The Times. This is your second story on the same topic in as many months.
Life would be so much less fun without you. An article today indicates that this man just got an expensive hair cut but I feel like this is a page from Highlights and I'm failing to spot 5 differences.
PS. I guess there's still fat to trim at The Times. This is your second story on the same topic in as many months.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Can't Take My Eyes off of You
Last night, I watched Duplicity with my folks. In one scene, Clive Owen (why else would I rent the movie) said that he "can't believe" something and Mother spoke up...
Mother: He said "cahnt." I thought only British people pronounced it that way. Americans say "can't."
Moi: He is British, Ma.
Mother: Really? I hadn't noticed.
Moi: There's only 10 minutes left of the movie.
Mother: He said "cahnt." I thought only British people pronounced it that way. Americans say "can't."
Moi: He is British, Ma.
Mother: Really? I hadn't noticed.
Moi: There's only 10 minutes left of the movie.
Hallway Dolorosa
I can tell how many Chinese families are living in the building by the smell of the hallway as I walk by. Unfortunately, by the smells of it, they're all better cooks than I am. And are reminding me of foods I haven't even thought of eating in years. I've got to start befriending these people.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Flavor of Love
Unlike many Asian Americans, I don't think there's a culture chasm between my parents and myself, nor consider any undue pressure put upon me by them (the latter might explain my total lack of achievements). Like them, I was born in Taiwan and we generally understand each other. At least that's what I thought.
Father and Mother are visiting both my g-pops in Taiwan so I wanted to buy some Haaaahvuhd gear for them to bring back (can I go a week without mentioning the name of my school? unlikely) The maternal g-pop was easy to shop for: tie, mug, presto, and Bob's my uncle. My dad, however, claims that his father is more finicky (I wonder if it's more the son than the father). No shirts. No small print. And nothing "too practical." Blanket? Pennant? Sweatpants? No, no, and no. Finally, after hour sof scouring, Landlady Chang and I picked a nice looking clock. Big, impractical, and can easily draw visitors' attention so Ah-Gong (grandfather) can then tell people about his brilliant granddaughter in America (because really, this is about me). Perfectly fitting? Perhaps. Perfectly offensive? Absolutely.
Apparently, as I learned last night, Chinese people don't give clocks as presents. "Silly superstition," Father said, while Mother went with "you'll get beaten to death." Either way, clock giving is just not done. The phrase "give a clock" is homonymous with the phrase "sending to the grave" and while I could probably get away with giving a clock to my parents, it's definitely a no-go for 91-year-old Ah Gong. Sweatpants it is then.
---
Even with superstitions aside...
Mother: (responding to Father's sneeze) That's what you get for not wearing your jacket.
Moi: For the gazillionth time, you can't catch the cold by being cold.
Mother: Yes, you can. You always get colds when it's cold.
Moi: People are more susceptible to getting sick when it's cold because that's when the flu season is and they're more likely to be staying inside and sharing the same air with people, leading to easier virus transmission.
Mother: That's no true. It's from the cold. And I forgive you.
Father and Mother are visiting both my g-pops in Taiwan so I wanted to buy some Haaaahvuhd gear for them to bring back (can I go a week without mentioning the name of my school? unlikely) The maternal g-pop was easy to shop for: tie, mug, presto, and Bob's my uncle. My dad, however, claims that his father is more finicky (I wonder if it's more the son than the father). No shirts. No small print. And nothing "too practical." Blanket? Pennant? Sweatpants? No, no, and no. Finally, after hour sof scouring, Landlady Chang and I picked a nice looking clock. Big, impractical, and can easily draw visitors' attention so Ah-Gong (grandfather) can then tell people about his brilliant granddaughter in America (because really, this is about me). Perfectly fitting? Perhaps. Perfectly offensive? Absolutely.
Apparently, as I learned last night, Chinese people don't give clocks as presents. "Silly superstition," Father said, while Mother went with "you'll get beaten to death." Either way, clock giving is just not done. The phrase "give a clock" is homonymous with the phrase "sending to the grave" and while I could probably get away with giving a clock to my parents, it's definitely a no-go for 91-year-old Ah Gong. Sweatpants it is then.
---
Even with superstitions aside...
Mother: (responding to Father's sneeze) That's what you get for not wearing your jacket.
Moi: For the gazillionth time, you can't catch the cold by being cold.
Mother: Yes, you can. You always get colds when it's cold.
Moi: People are more susceptible to getting sick when it's cold because that's when the flu season is and they're more likely to be staying inside and sharing the same air with people, leading to easier virus transmission.
Mother: That's no true. It's from the cold. And I forgive you.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Friday Night Slight
Today, Doc Greene alluded to the "broken window theory" whilst talking to Young Bo'. The reference was lost on her. But me, while I do not subscribe to the theory, it's been so long since I'd discussed sociology with anyone that instead of trying to pretend that I wasn't eavesdropping, I shouted, 4 cubicles down, "Yes! Broken window! Soc!" -- which I now realize isn't even a complete sentence. I am the coolest kid. Ever.
Speaking of cool kids, I just hung out with a few that are not, having dined with Dwighters, Liz, Emo, and the Landlady. While I'm not bffs with any of them, I can't imagine 4 people I'm more comfortable having dinner with. I trust their judgments on what's wrong and what's funny. And they're usually both. (Except for Dwight's V-neck sweaters. Nothing wrong there.) We went to Border Cafe, where I freaked Emo out by predicting her every move (queso, empanadas, guac, no sauce, and drink to go- I'm very Robin Williams in One-Hour-Photo) and where we had a waiter who we thought Emo had charmed. He was gracious, quick with banter, and kept bringing us free sides and refills-- until we saw the bill. And realized that nothing was actually free. He was just a guacamole pusher. Now I wish I could go back and spit in his food.
Speaking of cool kids, I just hung out with a few that are not, having dined with Dwighters, Liz, Emo, and the Landlady. While I'm not bffs with any of them, I can't imagine 4 people I'm more comfortable having dinner with. I trust their judgments on what's wrong and what's funny. And they're usually both. (Except for Dwight's V-neck sweaters. Nothing wrong there.) We went to Border Cafe, where I freaked Emo out by predicting her every move (queso, empanadas, guac, no sauce, and drink to go- I'm very Robin Williams in One-Hour-Photo) and where we had a waiter who we thought Emo had charmed. He was gracious, quick with banter, and kept bringing us free sides and refills-- until we saw the bill. And realized that nothing was actually free. He was just a guacamole pusher. Now I wish I could go back and spit in his food.
Call Him Ahab
Every once in awhile, we get a gem of an econ class and Prof. Papa goes off rantingin a well planned, predetermined manner. Today was such a class.
On economic incentives:
"... it's like whaling. If you don't kill them, someone will, kill them fast, kill them now, let's get rid of them."
On public health initiatives:
"Other than 'oh, we like children,' why do we need immunization?"
On jobs in public health:
"All I'm saying is, from the supply and demand side, good luck."
More on saving children:
"If we get paid depending on how many lives we control, then we should really be paying school traffic controllers, or else a truck will come and they'll be all, "come on, come on, it's safe."
And if economists sound callous...:
"Most people don't like to talk about buying people, so let's talk about robots."
On economic incentives:
"... it's like whaling. If you don't kill them, someone will, kill them fast, kill them now, let's get rid of them."
On public health initiatives:
"Other than 'oh, we like children,' why do we need immunization?"
On jobs in public health:
"All I'm saying is, from the supply and demand side, good luck."
More on saving children:
"If we get paid depending on how many lives we control, then we should really be paying school traffic controllers, or else a truck will come and they'll be all, "come on, come on, it's safe."
And if economists sound callous...:
"Most people don't like to talk about buying people, so let's talk about robots."
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Ex Post Hazard
Discussing posterior probabilities in Decision Analysis today, Ashley- the most intriguing nice desk buddy I've met at school so far- turns to me and says, in all seriousness, "Posterior sounds funny." "I know, it means butt." And we giggle like the Haaaavuhd students we are.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Reason #3828 I'm Not Acing Biostats
Moi: Whoa, we've had Obama as president for a year? (yay) I guess change...
Landlady Chang: Takes more than a year?
Moi: ... and feels like no change?
Landlady Chang: Does that mean we only get him for 3 more years?
Moi: No, don't say that, you mean 5 years!
Landlady Chang: 5 years? Not 3?
Moi: Oh, I did the math wrong. I mean 7 years. We get him for 7 years. (yay...)
Landlady Chang: Takes more than a year?
Moi: ... and feels like no change?
Landlady Chang: Does that mean we only get him for 3 more years?
Moi: No, don't say that, you mean 5 years!
Landlady Chang: 5 years? Not 3?
Moi: Oh, I did the math wrong. I mean 7 years. We get him for 7 years. (yay...)
Lame Bird
A bird flew into my shoe today. I was walking down the street, as I do every morning, and these two sparrows sprung up from the ground. One was successful. The other hit the sole of my shoe. (and then managed to fly up) Weirdest bird interaction ever. I turned around to look for someone to share the WTH moment with, but no one else on the crowded sidewalk seemed to have noticed or heard the very loud thud. A bird hit my shoe!
Monday, November 02, 2009
Crimson Commiseration
I love a boss who promises to "physically beat" people for me. I really do. I just wish he wasn't such a damn overachiever the rest of the time.
Whitecastle: Your average in that class should be over 100.
Moi: Um, no pressure or anything.
Whitecastle: Come on, the class is a cakewalk. I think I got 110.
The problem with going to school right across the street from where I work-- and it's a huge problem-- is that everyone at work has been through it. Everyone knows about the courses I'm taking. Has worked with my professors. And everyone is taking away my one great pleasure of school: Complaining about the academic rigors of Haaaaavuhd University. It's the one thing I have to hold on to, people.
Whitecastle: Have you learned SAS yet?
Moi: No, I've only been in school for a month.
Whitecastle: It's been 2 months. You said you've already had exams.
Moi: In accounting. I can balance a balance sheet.
Whitecastle: That's not going to help you. Unless you drop out and have to balance books.
First Father, now Whitecastle, why must everyone equate accounting with dropping out? I am so lacking in positive reinforcement today.
Whitecastle: Your average in that class should be over 100.
Moi: Um, no pressure or anything.
Whitecastle: Come on, the class is a cakewalk. I think I got 110.
The problem with going to school right across the street from where I work-- and it's a huge problem-- is that everyone at work has been through it. Everyone knows about the courses I'm taking. Has worked with my professors. And everyone is taking away my one great pleasure of school: Complaining about the academic rigors of Haaaaavuhd University. It's the one thing I have to hold on to, people.
Whitecastle: Have you learned SAS yet?
Moi: No, I've only been in school for a month.
Whitecastle: It's been 2 months. You said you've already had exams.
Moi: In accounting. I can balance a balance sheet.
Whitecastle: That's not going to help you. Unless you drop out and have to balance books.
First Father, now Whitecastle, why must everyone equate accounting with dropping out? I am so lacking in positive reinforcement today.
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