mindy kaling, nose honks, barfbag, sushi, lucky #

1. Mindy Kaling (also her website/blog that inspired me, http://thingsiboughtthatilove.com)
     Okay so it's really no secret that I love The Office (okay it might be, but really, it's not important). And I seriously want to fucking live at Dunder-Mifflin. Listen, I know it's not real, but i would hunker down under a desk and watch all the shit go down.  I LOVE THE OFFICE. Like no joke, dream career = comedy writer because of The Office (and also Arrested Development and BBT, but that is another post). And one of those people who has kicked ass as a comedy writer is MINDY KALING. No joke, one of the bitchin-est people ever. I never recognized her to be so brillz, but then this lady was interviewing me today for college and she brought her up and started talking about her and now i'm obsessed.
    Homegirl went to Dartmouth and did improv and acapella and she is funny! seriously funny. like take david sedaris, turn him into a shorter pudgier woman, and then stick him in a tanning bed for 3 days and bam, you've got Mindy.
    I didn't appreciate her until i started reading her shopping blog, and she RULES. For example, "Are we women or lost little schoolgirls? I don’t know, you guys. Per usual, Marc Jacobs wants to infantilize us ladies in the hottest fucking way possible." Yeah that's her. And I love it. And i'm learning about the spending habits of the semi-rich and not-so-famous. It involves lots of getting drunk and eating. I dig!
   Is she as good as my idol Tina Fey? Maybe not yet. She has to write something Mean Girls caliber before I put her up there. But is she still fuckin great! Hell yaaaaaa she is. Yep, she's deserving of a yaaa.

2. Not Honking When You Blow Your Nose
   Holy shit you guys, I dislike winter because I get sick so fast. Seriously. Winter break comes in and BAM, all of a sudden my throat feels like raccoons have infected it with rabies (scratchy, not hurty) and my head gets all pressurized so I have tons of headaches. And then because I have a ton of headaches I get really paranoid that I might have brain cancer. So then I have to get out of my sick/deathbed to check the mirror to see if one pupil is bigger than the other (classic sign of a brain tumor), and then I realize it's not, but hey! i have the cold! YEAH!!!
    But the headache doesn't even matter. What matters is this: I now have to blow my nose ever 7-13 minutes. But my nose blow isn't like normal people's: no, it's honky. So not only am I slowly destroying my reputation of being eco friendly by using enough tissues to cover the new country of Kosovo, I am beckoning ships from the Hudson to come dock at my fuckin house!!!
    In seventh grade, the boy I liked called me foghorn when I was sick--you can bet I displayed some signs of OCD handwashing after that little incidence occurred--no way was I ever going to get sick in front of 13 year old McHottie ever again.
    So basically, to those of you out there who can blow your nose normally with just a weirdish spitting combined with blowing air sound (ew, i know, so gross), I love you. Yay!!!

3. Barf Bags
   Listen, barfing sucks. Unless you are bulimic and have some sort of whacked out psychosomatic rewards system, vomiting is like the last thing on your list of things to do. At least for me. I really like food, so I do a lot better when it's in me and my lovely little adipose (aka fat for the non-anatomy-literate) tissue cells are blowin up like balloons on a tank of helium.
   But I gotta say, I love barf bags. Every time I'm on a plane, that's the first thing I check for. I make sure there's a barf bag. You know, just in case. It's like a little somethin somethin there to put you at ease. Like a blankie. Or perhaps your favorite teddy bear. It's like its little wire clasp arms beckon you and pats your back and it says "It's okay if you barf. You're not the only one. So many people have done it, and my brothers and sisters are all veterans. We're here for you. Bro." I guess I like to picture Frat Boy Barf Bags.
    And if you're into stealing--bonus! Ask for all the salt and pepper packets you want from the flight attendant, she'll never know you've got a stash of like 50 just chillin in your Barf Bag. . .scrambled eggs for like a year! Scor-ore!

4. Sushi
   Even though I'm Asian, I hadn't eaten sushi before my brother literally stuffed it down my throat when I was 15. I was sitting at the table, all excited, because, you guys, I was gonna eat seaweed, sticky rice and raw fish! This was growing up! I mean, if my life were a bildungsroman (a coming of age novel, for those of you who are not literate in literary labels), this would be a defining moment in my life, tantemout to getting my period or taking the heart out a deer I shot (that's the male equivalent to periods right?). But damn, the closer that little roll came to my mouth the more I was all, uhh didn't the cook forget to cook the fish? Because no matter how bitchin sushi sounds, you know in the back of your head, you're kind of like, ohhhhhhh shit, what if this is the one that kills me.
   Hard as I tried to spit it discreetly across the room into someone's hairpiece or something, I couldn't go unnoticed, because my family was of course staring at me. "Just fucking swallow it whole," (that's what she said!) my brother urged and laughed like an son of a bitch evil scientist. And I did, and I don't even think I tasted it, but it was sushi so I said i liked it.
    And ever since, i've always said I liked it. But to be honest, I have to be really really really hungry for the thought of throwing up to not cross my mind. But goddamn, I love me some sushi. In my brain it sounds awesome. Real life, after like 12 pieces, not so much. Then the fishiness gets to me and then I think that this may be my last meal, and I'm lookin around for Judas Iscariot chillin behind the sushi bar.

5. 7, 8 & 9
    Confused you little didn't I!? Aha! Well there is nothing of particular importance about 7, 8 and 9 except they are the most important numbers of my life. . .so yeah, the former part of the sentence was a trick. Aha! again. I'm a trickster. But yeah, here's why I love these numbers.
    7: It was a significant number in Harry Potter and is apparently a pretty significant number in the world, according to my pal Wiki Pedia (this was also my lucky number when I was 7 years old)
    8: My favorite number of the 3!! My birthday is 8/18, and in Chinese, the number 8 rhymes and sounds very similar to the word for "luck" Therefore, recently I've decided that 8 will be my forever lucky number (this was also my lucky number when I was 8 years old)
    9: This was my lucky number when I was 9 years old (notice a pattern? yeah i stopped with the lucky number = age nonsense after 9. 10 just sucks)
    But anyways here's the dealio: strangely enough, these 3 numbers always show up in my phone numbers/addresses, and it ROCKS! it's like a forcefield of good, like Cinderella's little rat friends. And, a lot of my friends have these numbers in their phone numbers.
   Shut up, you can stop laughing, I promise I'm not like 13 years old. Okay seriously shut the fuck up, i'll kill you.