I don't even know what a state controller is

I'm still on hiatus.

But in the meantime, it's California election season, and I've been fairly disgusted with all of the negative campaigning that's been going in the gubernatorial race between Steve Westly and Phil Angelides. "Westly promised no negative campaigns!" "Angelides started it! And he's corrupt!" "Westly is more corrupt!" "Angelides hosts MySpace orgies with thirteen year old girls!" "At least they're girls!"

I'm so over it that it's not even funny. Sure, I have my issues that are near and dear to my heart, but if someone asks me what political party I am, I just tell them I'm in the "Apathetic Asian." Instead of a donkey or an elephant, our political mascot is a fucking report card littered with Straight A's.

One political commercial that I HAVE taken notice of is John Chiang for State Controller. I have taken notice, of course, because the dude is Asian, and because his political commercials are totally awesome: John Chiang, talking to underage minority school children! John Chiang, looking at the scenic Marin headlines! John Chiang, slamming a law book SHUT! YEAH, SLAM that fucking law book shut, John Chiang!

But I'll be honest: I don't even know what a State Controller is. It probably has to do with accounting of some sort (since you're controlling, uhm, something) and thus, he is good at math. And thus, in my head, the political commercials I see on television run something like this:

Announcer: John Chiang, Mathlete from seventh through ninth grade

(Camera cuts to a class full of seventh graders. John Chiang is in a three-piece suit.)

Announcer: John Chiang graduated 4th in his class at Alhambra High School with a 4.1 GPA!

(Camera cuts to John Chiang recieving his high school diploma, then dramatically turning his head towards the camera.)

Announcer: John Chiang is good at math; doesn't HE deserve to be YOUR California State Controller? (This has been paid for by John Chiang for State Controller)

And of course, and ad like this is just crying for its negative political-ad counterpart.

Voice of a psuedo-concerned white Livejasmin woman from suburbs: John Chiang wants to be your State controller. What does HIS OWN MOTHER think about this?

Mother of John Chiang: Ai-ya, so I tell him, "JOHN, why you no become doctor? Mrs. Wu's daughter Jenny is doctor. Why not you? And he just shake his head and sigh."

Disembodied voice: And what about his college education

Mother of John Chiang: And Mrs. Wu daughter, SHE go to Yale! John go to University South Florida. WHO GO TO SOUTH FLORIDA FOR SCHOOL?! For Disneyland, maybe. NOT SCHOOL!"

Disembodied voice: If Mrs. Wu's daughter Jenny can be a doctor at Yale, can you REALLY trust John Chiang as your State Controller? (This has been paid for by Concerned Citizens Against John Chiang for State Controller)

That is all. (Oh yeah - one more thing. For those of you in the San Francisco Bay Area, I'll be doing a guest host spot on Queer Channel Radio this Sunday from 7-9pm. Expect a lot of stuttering and dead air on my part.)

The only asian insurance guy in tennessee

It's gotten pretty obvious that I've been avoiding in this blog lately. White Elephant: 1, Eric: 0.

To be honest, I'm at a point of my life where I've cornered myself into a life rut. A couple of weeks ago, my father sat me down at a Fresh Choice, and matter-of-factly gave me a bullet points of things I should - no, must - do when my parents pass away, all of which involve living wills and taking care of Anny and being her legal, protective guardian, even though I'm ten years younger than her.

I agree to it. Why? Because I have to, that's why.

There's more to this story, but I'm no longer comfortable in talking about it due to certain people who read this jasminlive blog. Hence the blog avoiding, I guess.

This is the year most of my friends from college and I turn 30. Already, I've been through at least four 30th birthday parties, with a couple more to go. I'll attend at least two wedding ceremonies this year, and one of my good friends is expecting their first child. And while I love my friends to death, they all have their lives to lead and families to raise and they're settling down. God knows I'm settling down too, but I'm, uhm, settling down in a way I didn't want to settle down.

Does that make any sense at all? Didn't think so.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been trying to write something - anything at all - on LYD, and I've come up with nothing. Nothing humorous, because honestly, nothing that zany or interesting has really happened. I go to work, I come home, I deal with my parents, they unload their problems with me and I chain-smoke on the car ride home. Lather, rinse, repeat, and sometimes I hang with friends at night or on the weekends, to keep me from waking up, packing all my belongs and driving to, say, Nashville where I would begin a new life as, I don't know, an insurance broker. The only Asian insurance guy in Tennessee. Not to say I haven't been tempted lately.

And I guess this is a reason why now would be a good time to put a hiatus on this blog, at least in terms of the journal-like format I currently have at this moment. Don't delete your RSS feeds yet, because I DO have some plans that may or may not come to fruition over the next couple of months, and you never know what could happen. But something has gotta give, or change.

I just don't know what it'll be yet.

In Reno

I'm in Reno, Nevada, as a last-minute trip for my mothers birthday. I'm in my hotel room blogging instead of gambling because I'm suffering from sensory overload - I just came back from Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago for a chaturbate friends wedding - so while my mother hems and haws about how she lost a whopping seven dollars playing penny slots, I'm here in my safe cocoon of geekdom, away from neon lights and buffet signs and oxygen tanks.

Observations about the Atlantis Hotel and Casino, Reno Nevada

While my mother knows I smoke, I refuse to smoke around her. When I don't smoke for an extended period of time, I will get fantastically cranky. This has nothing to do with the Atlantis hotel, but I just wanted to throw that out there right now.

The sentence "I'm reading a book called 'MY SON IS A HOMOSEXUAL.' It's not very good." will kill a car conversation INSTANTLY.

A hotel and casino in Reno is just like a hotel and casino in Las Vegas, except the jasminelive folks here look like they could be working at a Walgreens or a Costco or a Comcast paying station in east Oakland. At least in Vegas they put on the fake veneer of courtesy, whereas here they'll answer all your questions with "whatever, next person please" and not give you eye contact.

This made for some, uhm, customer dissatisfaction when I ran down to the front desk, complaining that my drivers license and credit card was lost. (Oh, PS, Paula at the front desk? You should really do something with those acre of bangs on your face.)

Hooray for tacky casino comforters

Thankfully, my drivers license and credit card were NOT lost, because they were camouflaged on this fantastically tacky comforter I'm sitting on right now. There's a lot of orange and yellow and hot pink fish and kelp and seahorses; think Monterrey Bay Aquarium with a 70's porn filter on LSD.

My mother got lost at the buffet. As in, she was wandering around with a tray of food for 20 minutes, looking for the table we were assigned. I'm going to attribute that to the poor buffet layout rather than the fact that she might be turning senile.

There's a video slot machine based on "Pompeii," except instead of a massive volcano burying villagers alive with toxic ash, it shows a massive volcano showering villagers with gold coins and a cumulative jackpot. Uhm... that's kinda fucked up.

Similar to the cruise ship, a good majority of the patrons in this casino are elderly people here on a slots tournament. A slots tournament is just like a sports tournament, except instead of athletes, they're old people with oxygen tanks and they're smoking cigarettes. Oh, and there is absolutely NO skill involved.

Now that I think about it... it's 2:30am and she's not back at the room yet. I think I'm going to look for her. (I swear to god, next year for her birthday, we're going to the park.)

Conversations at this years gay pride parade

Conversation #1:

(Cut to a car full of gays passing by the rather infamous Becks Travel Lodge)

Brian: Oh, look. Beck's Travel Lodge. Or as I like to call it, "WHORES R US."

Hugh, Brian's partner: Uhm, hon, didn't we stay there for a weekend a while ago?

Jason: Oooh, so maybe it should be called "WHORES R U."

Eric: Ding! Ten points.

Conversation #2:

Jason: Oh look, it's the parade float from Wells Fargo.

Eric: Hey, that float looks familiar. DUDE, THEY RECYCLED THAT FLOAT FROM THE CHINESE NEW YEARS PARADE!

Jason: Shut up

Eric: No, they totally did! Those are the golden horses from the Year of the Horse! All they did was add a giant inflatable rainbow at the end of it!

Brian: They probably had a ten thousand dollar budget for the Chinese New Years parade, and, like, twelve dollars for gay pride.

My hope is that they march in the St. Patrick's day parade with that same float, but they keep the gold horses, the inflatable rainbow and add little green shamrocked bowler hats to the horses heads.

(Oh, and an open apology if you were in the gay Google contingent and you heard booing somewhere around 7th and Market. Most likely it was coming from me or one of my gay co-workers - we were trying to be catty, but honestly, we're just jealous that Yahoo! didn't march in the parade.

And a part of me was secretly hoping that one of you guys would turn around, throw up a Google gang-sign. We would retort in kind, of course, and then we'd go into a dance-off like in the movie "You Got Served" or one of those West Side Story-like dance routines; CNN or Valleywag would pick up news of a fantastically gay nerd rumble, blood and pulled hair and pink feather boas and slide rules flying in the air.

If it's any consolation, you guys are all young and pretty and probably date each other, while I have folks with Yahoo! Mail doesn't work. That is all.)

I will watch pillow fights no more

After having HDTV for a couple of weeks now, I've been noticing my viewing habits have changed a little. This is partially due to the fact that I had to stop using my TiVo for a DVR that could support HDTV, and the controls kind of, well, suck. (Disclaimer: I previously worked as a contractor there for about a year.)

More importantly though, I've been noticing that I'll find myself fascinated at shows, for the sole reason that they're prettier to watch than other television shows, nevermind I only have two channels that show hi-def content 24 hours a day.

Announcer: "The Inca people began as a tribe in the Cuzco area around the 12th century CE. Under the leadership of Manco Capac, they blah blah blah blah blah..."

Eric: (thinking) "Oooh. Manco Capac has a mole on his nose! Teehee!"

Announcer: "The nesting flamingoes gather into groups and gather to fresh water to drink and bathe..."

Eric: (thinking) "Oooh. The nesting flamingoes have moles on their noses! Teehee!"

Seriously, with the exception of Late Night with Conan O'Brien, my regular television viewing habits have completely changed to watching the following: the incubations of oysters, old rich white people practicing their golf swing so they don't hook right, X-treme freestyle skiing, a horrible, horrible cooking show where they make desserts out of Spenda. And yet, I can't be swayed.

Announcer: "Next on Eric's theoretical perfect television show: hot guys in boxers talking about web standards and gay pillow fighting afterwards!"

Eric: Ugh. It's not high-def. Whatever. (Turns off television, writes this blog entry)

("Gay pillow fighting?" Uhm, that's just lame.)