The Out and About Chronicles

I was good and didn’t go out tonight. Hooray for publicizing my intentions so that I’ll publicly shame myself if I fail. Now that I have the time, I can share what I’ve been up to. Yes, that’s right. I made the decision to not go out as much so that I could get home and blog about the times that I was out. It’s all so meta and ironic that my head has already exploded. Twice. (That’s actually how Asians stay so young looking. We regenerate our heads like lizards do with their tails. Pearl Cream is just a hoax we sell to white people.)

Less than two weeks into my new dream job at Fabby Fab Fab, we had a company post-holiday party. Mainly, it was for the team that had been there the previous 7 months, when they experienced something like 700% growth since launching in June 2011. The co-founders wanted to give them a celebration during a time when they wouldn’t be under the gun the next day. In fact, they wanted to make sure everyone would be able to relax and enjoy the party so much that they made the next morning a mandatory Come In Late day.

That kind of thoughtfulness is exactly why I love Fab. I guess you wouldn’t really start something that’s based around making people smile unless you have that mindset. I can’t say enough how fortunate I feel to have joined such an amazing team. And to get to know everyone on such a fun night! We scarfed down delicious wine and hors d’oeuvres at Market Table, detoured for cocktails at 10 Downing, then sang karaoke at some place called Boho or Bobo (?). I’ll admit it was hard to keep track of names, either places or people, after a few of the delish lavender fizzes you see in the picture above. It was the perfect way to be welcomed onto such an awesome team!

Last Friday was also intensely fun. I knew I’d be up to no good when the Princeton Madam commanded me to attend Muy Thai boxing with her. I can never resist a night she plans and boy, did she deliver! To set the tone for a primal evening, we had dinner at Meskerem, an Ethiopian restaurant. They set down a gigantic platter filled with food, tossed fluffy folds of bread in front of each of us, and provided no silverware. We just dug right in with our bare hands. It was my first time, and I loved it!

After we were uncomfortably full, I waddled after the group. Now, when I heard we were watching boxing, I imagined some dark basement filled with shadowy figures placing bets on vicious killers who would fight to the death. Instead, we ended up in an enormous rec center on the ground floor of a Catholic cathedral in midtown Manhattan. I bought beer from a lady who looked and sounded like a soccer mom. It would’ve been disappointing, but the multiple rounds of intense kickboxers, free-flowing beer (thank you, soccer mom) (and… Jesus, I guess?), and fun dance music during breaks really kept things lively. Who knew? I might do it again soon.

Oops, I mean, I won’t do it again soon. Because I’m supposed to be going out less. Sigh. Now you know why it’s hard to say no.

Chansvestite

I began my weekend visit to the Parents Chan by riding a series of commuter trains up to Connecticut with the Princeton Madam (not her real nickname… yet!), 2 bottles of red and a cheap corkscrew. Sadly for the commuters, the quiet reading car was the only one with room for us. Amidst the sombre library quiet of paperback pages turning, our styrofoam cups did a poor job of concealing what we were doing. After a while, we didn’t hear any pages turning. I’d like to think that meant we were saying (yelling?) some pretty interesting stuff. Or at least cursing in a fun enough way. Pros that we were, the Princeton Madam and I finished our first bottle of wine just before we had to switch trains. We congratulated ourselves as we deposited the bag with empty bottle into a recyclables bin on the platform. Remember those shape-sorting toys for babies? That bin had a glass bottles hole that was perfectly shaped for a wine bottle. I guess if any commuter train catered to winos, it would be the Connecticut commuter train! It wasn’t until we were comfortably ensconced in our seats on the new train that we realized we had thrown the cheap corkscrew away. It had been in the bag with the first bottle. Luckily, we were part of the MacGyver generation and not to be deterred by the mere lack of real tools. Using an ingenious combo of a ballpoint pen, a tube of lip balm and a plastic bag (don’t ask), we were able to open our second bottle for the rest of our ride up to family-land before we parted ways.

At first, my parents seemed like they would be a much better influence on me. I helped the mama water and sun her potted bamboo plants, picked fresh veggies from my aunt and uncle’s amazing terraced, hanging garden and relaxed by the pool. But I quickly found out where my partying genes came from. Out at dinner the first night, my parents pulled out a flask of Remy Martin X.O. and poured it into teacups while whistling innocently. I don’t think it fooled the waiters since the air above our table was wavy from alcohol fumes, but they knew better than to question the mama and the papa! They were a teensy bit better behaved the next night since we dined at home. They did, however, bust out a fancy pants bottle of wine (so fancy the bottle came in its own sleek silver canister) which they had saved for this weekend. One glass in, we got inspired to dress up in tradish garb for dinner because a family friend had just given me a cheongsam for my birthday. My mom almost stabbed me in the head while excitedly sticking chopsticks into my hair to “decorate” me. Whoa mama! (Come on, I had to say that.)

Partying wasn’t the only thing I inherited from these crazy cats though. At the end of the day, they are both astoundingly good cooks. For the joint birthday dinner (my daddy’s and mine), mommy-pants went all out. She sauteed green beans and pale eggplants freshly plucked from the hanging garden, made simple-but-scrumptious salted fry ups of shrimp and steak and tested a new chicken with seaweed dish. Feast your eyes on the pics below. My goodness, life is beautiful!