thepeopleseason: (jet li)
[ profile] flattop: dude, you haven't posted in LJ in a week. are you dead? or just spending all your time having sex, like your dad told you not to?

flattop: you know when you're playing gin and you knock, and you want to look at the next card on the deck, and you know you shouldn't, but you do and of course it's your card. you know that feeling?
[ profile] thepeopleseason: yes, I know that feeling.
flattop: well, after you put a contract on a house, don't look at the MLS listings.

flattop: i get more said in your journal than in my own.
thepeopleseason: (single whip)
I should not have played Guitar Hero until 10:00 PM last night.

Things to do:
  • Pack
  • Make Everwood DVDs for Mom and Dad.
  • Find issues of Fables and Y: The Last Man for Jerry
  • Watch as much TiVo as possible to clear space, as I've been spending too much time playing Soul Calibur III and Guitar Hero to catch up on television.
  • Dishes/Laundry
thepeopleseason: (snowman)
My dad called me as I was driving back from lunch today.

He had just received a call from a woman named Nicole, asking about me and something about "final affair." He had some pointed questions for me--did I know what she was talking about? Have I done something to be concerned about?

Now I suspect the presence of the word "affair" in her query makes him think that I'm up to my old imaginary lifestyle of whoring and womanizing that he's long suspected me of leading when living some 650 or so miles away from him. "Final affairs," however, to me suggests something entirely different, unless you're a complete sicko perv.

I call him back after I get to the office so I can get Nicole's number to call her and figure out what's going on. After bouncing around on hold, I finally get her on the line.

"Hello, this is Nicole."
"Hi, Nicole, this is James Hsiao. You placed a call to me earlier. Can I help you?"
"Umm... yeah. According to our records, you're deceased."

Apparently, I'm dead.

She asked me to verify the last four digits of my SSN. I wonder what would have happened had I said that she had a match...

Go Figure

Apr. 6th, 2005 03:23 pm
thepeopleseason: (cupid)
I was listening to the radio this morning, and the morning show had a so-called "dating expert" on the line who mentioned that there's something wrong with a 35-year-old male who hasn't been married yet.

Which just brings to mind the conversation that I had with my father the other morning--he called on Monday morning, before I left for work, asking about a computer issue. After I helped him with it, he started in on the grilling:
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Hey, listen, you should find a nice nurse or a teacher or something. Someone who has an income and can help support the both of you."
"Yeah, ok, dad."
Now, most of you will probably realize that now that I'm into my 30s, my parents have been pressuring me to find a wife and have children. I've even asked them the importance of the order of those steps, and they responded, "Not really important." So it seems they're in a rush to have grandchildren--As I wrote about a while ago, my Chinese name changed recently. While my original name was Hsiao Tze-Ming, last Thanksgiving my parents were all giddily calling me "Hsiao Ji-Ming! Hsiao Ji-Ming!" When I asked them why they were calling me that, they told me that a Chinese fortune-teller told them that both me and my brother should change our names for good luck*. After my brother read that post, he grilled my mom and dad and found out that "good luck" really translates to "a greater chance of having grandchildren for you."

So, I guess my father envisions me with some prim and proper woman with child-bearing hips and a high FICO score (come to think of it, I should put together a dating site like where one of the criteria you can sort by is FICO score...).

It occured to me yesterday, however, that the only non-professional or social places that I can find a nurse or a teacher with an income to help support the both of us are places that are named "The Pink Pony" or "The Alley Cat."

Well, they're mostly dressed like nurses or teachers...

* My family has a sort of generational poem naming-convention. Each successive generation names their children with the next word in sequence of this poem--both my father and my aunt have the word "Shih" in their names. When my brother, the first-born son of his generation was born, my father went to his dad and asked him what the next word to use, and my grandfather said "Tze," which was wrong. It should have been "Ji," but the incorrect name has already propagated to our cousins, etc.

When my parents went to this fortune-teller, she asked if our names should really be Tze-Ming and Tze-Wei, and they said no, so she said to change it back to the way it should have been (at least my name doesn't have testicle in it anymore...).
thepeopleseason: (fluke)
Got back last night from a lazy, lazy week in Miami.

After mom's visit for a few days, we drove from Atlanta to Miami, with a stop in West Palm to pick up the elder brother. During the stop, I watched him play Counterstrike for a few hours before I began to feel slightly nauseous. Must be nice, having a computer fast enough to make you vomit.

Watched the entirety of the the Lord of the Rings Extended Editions with Jerry and Dad. Mom bowed out in the middle of Two Towers, and though she watched a bit of Return, I don't think it's something she's thrilled to partake of.

I've somehow managed, however, to get my parents (mostly my dad) addicted to Everwood. I watched most of the first season while I was down in Miami, and at some point, I'll need to send the discs down to them so they can watch the whole thing in rapt attention.

Things my brother has overheard his FSU-alum co-worker say:
  • "Well, you should understand. It's in your native language."
    regarding the Aramaic The Passion of the Christ to someone from Italy.
  • "It must suck to lose to an in-state rival."
    to a Virginia Tech-alum regarding Virginia Tech's loss to West Virginia a couple of years ago.
Got cash, some Tai Chi books, Katamari Damacy for the birthday/Christmas. "Katamari Damacy is not a violent game, but you can roll up balls of little children and nobody knows what happens to them after that," according to

Drove back up yesterday, listening to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I also had some PKD short stories, the Return of the King audiobook, Prisoner of Azkaban, and some recording to help me learn French. Personally, I think all of the above would have been more worthwhile...
thepeopleseason: (mom)
He knows that I'm going to Vegas next week, and so he had this advice for me:
  • Don't gamble too much and
  • Don't mess around with the wrong kind of woman

He ended that with "You know what I mean..."

This just reminds me of my favorite father phone call. He had called me at my old job, and ran through the usual concerns:
"How's your health?"
"Doing fine, dad."
"How's the car running?"
"Not too bad."
"How's your apartment?"
"Nothing new."
"Ok. Well, take care of yourself. Don't spend too much money...

And don't fuck all the time."

Go figure.
thepeopleseason: (pool)
Not fifty minutes ago, a diminutive Vietnamese woman named Tina was in the process of shearing away some of my hair.

When I walked into the Chinese barbershop/hair salon, I walked over, and she scissored two fingers into her hair, and I nodded. She pointed me towards a chair, and I sat; she wrapped a towel about my neck and draped a sheet decorated with some Patrick Nagel/Ty Wilson-wannabe graphic over me. And then she started to cut my hair.

No talking. No asking how I wanted it styled.

Once, after she had already started, she pointed at my hair in a couple of places, and muttered something, and I tried to explain to her that I couldn't speak Chinese very well. It would be about 30 minutes later, after the shampoo and the teeth-rattling massage, when she would tell me (in English) that she was from Vietnam, and ask me about myself.

At the time, however, all of this just wasn't at all upsetting to me. I just placed my trust in this woman to cut my hair appropriately.

This is, of course, in preparation for my return to Miami, so I can avoid my father's insistence that my hair is too long, and the therefore subsequent obligation to go see Lucy, the woman who used to cut my hair when I was living down there.

It's not that I don't like going to see Lucy, but you need to understand that with a trip back home, certain obligations have a tendency to crop up. Because my parents are my parents, I don't really get to say no to the "can you tell me what's wrong with the computer?" question (I've luckily ducked out on a lot of these questions since moving to Atlanta, since Jerry lives in Boynton Beach...).

Other obligations: going shopping for who knows what. While this may seem like something that would appeal to me, invariably we'll go shopping for the most tedious things,
The most taxing of the expected obligations is the Moving of the Stuff. For some reason unapparent to those of us under the age of 31, we need to move Stuff around the house a lot--from trunks full of clothes, to, more usually, furniture. Beds, shelves (and the books on them), dressers, etc. My mom and dad are worried about my father's back. Jerry and I, are worried about our own...

Oh well... Here's to family get-togethers.

Oh yeah, the haircut turned out fine.

I actually did go to see Die Another Day yesterday afternoon, with Jeech and Earnie. It was entertaining enough, but quite stupid in parts. For example, why would anyone get onto a plane in North Korea, dressed in army fatigues, and then change into some ho-cake tube top, arm-length gloves, and skin-tight white pants? Is this really necessary? Give me Famke Janssen in a short cotton robe anyday...


thepeopleseason: (Default)

February 2011

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