I Made a New Old Friend

While riding back from San Jose to Rosemead with the usual Vietnamese bus company Xe Do Hoang, I didn’t think choosing to sit next to an elderly woman would gain me a new friend. In the million times I’ve ridden this bus, I have yet to ever make a friend. Well, I had a good conversation with a woman who called me “hefty” once.

One ticket from San Jose to Rosemead: $40. Making a new old friend?: Priceless.
One ticket from San Jose to Rosemead: $40. Making a new old friend?: Priceless.

**Side story: During my freshman year in high school, I was able to make conversation in Cantonese with a kind middle-aged woman. We got to talking about our families and what not, and it was nice to be able to share life on a 6 hour bus ride home. She then proceeded to ask me if my family was from Beijing, and I told her no. I asked her why she guessed that, and she told me that people from Beijing tend to be hefty. Thanks, friend.

Helen is her English name, and Hai is her Vietnamese name. Hai Pham. My roommate Miss Jessica Pham would appreciate that. She’s 68-years-old, with five children ranging from the ages of 22 to 49. Yes, a big gap but she’s satisfied nonetheless. I later found out her son, also 22-years-old, goes to UCLA for Dentistry, and that he also lives right in Westwood. In order to protect his identity, all I will say is that he also has only five letters in his first and last name together. Soul mate?

Hai kept pouring flattery over me as she told me repeatedly that I was a “sweet girl,” that she felt like she knew me for a long time, and that she “loved me.” She even gave me her fan and said for me to keep as a gift from her and also in remembrance every time I used it. I was a little surprised, but I accepted her gift gratefully. I guess I’m part of her, would you say, “fan” club. Hahahahahaha…no? Sorry. I definitely enjoyed her company and conversation more than anything. She reminds me of my Great Aunt May, with the same spunk and pretty good handle on the English language.

I was invited to go to her house some time whenever I was in the Santa Ana area, and she even gave me her contact info. Both home and cell number, and her home address. She told me delicious food was only a phone call away, as she promised me she made a mean North Vietnamese style fish. I was excited to take that offer up, and am seriously considering doing so.

I gave her my cell phone number, and that if she was ever in Westwood visiting her son, she should give me a call.

www.xedohoang.com
http://www.xedohoang.com

Hey, I’m not an ageist. 68 or 16, as Camera Obscura put it, “I need all the friends I can get.” So if you want to give it a try, get on the Xe Do Hoang yourself.

Did I just advertise a Vietnamese Bus Company as a new way of networking? Oh dear.

This is Amy Hu signing off for October 3rd, 2009.

Finally, an Interview: A Job Hunter’s Dream

I, Amy Hu, finally got a job interview. After sending out over twenty-five resumes, I succeeded in getting a response to come in. And I must say, the session went rather well.

www.pacificachristian.org
http://www.pacificachristian.org

I applied for a part-time office administration job as a helping hand to the Assistant Head of School, Ms. Joan Crawford (haha not the actress of course, or I would be working with a rotting corpse, though working with a zombie would be thrilling and she’d be a beautiful one) at Pacifica Christian High School, located right on Wilshire and 18th in Santa Monica.

This job was made for me. 20 hours a week, $15/hr, and a ten minute commute. The logistics is just a part of it–the school’s vision and mission is something I am definitely all for, and they’re heart for high school students is amazing. Joan told me how they even started the school, and it made me want this position even more. Eight educators all with prestigious teaching careers, giving up their stable and well-paying jobs in order to pursue what God was calling them to–to start this school five years ago. It wasn’t easy, but they trusted that this was what they were meant to do, and everything worked out in a miraculous way. Now with 160 students and many established  programs, they are an amazing and growing community.

Joan was interested in my journey to faith and my passions for media and video production. I couldn’t have asked for easier questions, and for her to actually want to hear who I was and what I did was really encouraging. This was definitely not your usual job interview. I was able to share passionately about these things, and she definitely was captivated. That’s always a good sign when someone like me tends to be the most verbose being you come across.

The only thing that threw me off was when she asked me what sort of challenges I come across in administration. I stumbled a little bit, and shared about how they way I organize things could use some work, but I always am grateful and open to people giving me better ideas to do so. I hope that was sufficient, it seemed so at the time.

She informed me there were a handful of applicants, and that I would hear back from her next week. So if you can, say a quick prayer for me. I’m going to need all I can get. And in the end, if I don’t get this job, I’ll wait for another 20 resumes. I want get out of the 12.2% unemployment club in California, so hey, gotta keep trying right?

This is Amy Hu signing off for October 2nd, 2009.

Everybody Loves Raymonds, Weddings, and Birthdays

Raymond's Wedding 015
Me, Dad, Vera, Mom, Denise, Aunt Nancy, Raymond, Uncle Ken

Congratulations to my cousin Raymond on becoming a wonderful new husband to his lovely wife, Denise, as of Saturday. The wedding ceremony was held outdoors at the lovely Hotel Sofitel in Redwood City by a beautiful lake. Despite the warm weather, noisy planes, and hotel clientele watching our gathering half-naked by the pool, it was a lovely evening. The open bar, dancing with my 7 year-old cousin, and red velvet cake definitely were some memorable highlights. The reception was held indoors and dinner was a fancy selection of fine American cuisine.

Raymond's Wedding 002
Big sister Vera on the left. Pre-disaster.

The funniest yet worst thing was that Vera decided to vomit on the way home. While I was at the wheel, she expressed how sick she felt and pulled down the window. I knew she was pretty drunk at the wedding considering her excessive amount of physical affection and decreasing number of blinks. When she stuck her head out the window, her puking skills allowed her to spread her half-digested-once-expensive-cuisine equally in the car and outside of it. As the mixture of food and stomach juices splattered across the window, my mother was puzzled as to why it was wet outside and convinced herself for approximately five seconds that it was raining. Her countenance soon fell at the moment of realization as the stench penetrated all our noses. It was a disaster to clean up. I nearly hurled myself in doing so.

I also got a haircut the day before I went to the wedding and I was so relieved to finally get one. I hadn’t cut my car in six months, and that was way overdue for my already unhealthy hair. I had attempted to get an appointment with my hair stylist last time I was back in the good ol’ San Ho, but that was a fail. He was completely booked. With much success this time, I had to lock in such a lovely rendezvous in Cupertino at the local Cali Hair.

Raymond the Hair Stylist
Look at this guy. Doin' his thang. That's not me, I'm the creepy one behind the camera phone.

Now hairstylist Raymond, not cousin Raymond, usually does a fabulous job with my hair. I’ve been going to him for 4 years now, and so we always manage to catch up and make good conversation every time he works his magic (get your head out of the gutter). The only thing is, his style is that of a very “Asian” style, basically. But the cut is good, and I just simply wet my hair and reshape it to the way I want when I come back home. Unfortunately this time, it seems this look never left me. He cut my bangs too short this time, and it’s a bit disastrous.

It's time.
It's time.

You might think, “Oh Amy, the drama queen you are. Your hair looks fine.” This may be true, but I had been in love with my long hair and was wary of cutting it. But it was getting way too long, as my bangs were not functioning as bangs anymore, but as an eye mask. So I had to.

top-SATO-SUIv2
A family favorite. http://www.satosushi.com

My mother’s birthday was uneventful as predicted, but we did get sushi from what we think is the best sushi restaurant in town–Sato Sushi. It’s my mother’s (and family’s) favorite Japanese restaurant, and we do love our raw fish and special rolls.

This is my favorite roll at this fine establishment.
This is my favorite roll at this fine establishment.

My dad managed to ruffle my feathers on my last night here and during my mother’s birthday dinner. He was late because he was too busy “fixing” their new duplex in Milpitas they recently bought as another source of income. (Hey, now’s the time to buy real estate in an economy like this. My parents plan on renting it out until they decide to move into it themselves. I’m skeptical.) Not only that, but he chugged my beer right as he sat down so I had no more to enjoy and then later proceeded to let me know that I had enough food when he asked us all to finish the rest of the food. Apparently his encouragement to “everyone” to not let the food go to waste did not include me. He had been commenting on my weight the entire week, and in the emotional state I’m in, I, Amy the block of silky tofu, broke. I’m used to those comments, but during this season in realizing the relationship between my brokenness and my family, I was not ready to take on anymore from them.

It was a tough week at home overall, but it had some good moments. There’s always a risk in doing anything in life, and the more you expect, the higher the chance of things not going your way. I don’t believe in expecting nothing to shy away from disappointment, but I do believe in at least hoping for it and moving on. Whether you hope for the best haircut, a chance of vomit-free drunkenness, or a nice family dinner without being put down, the desire for it is much better than expecting. That is a lesson I have learned all my life. But hey, it still sucks when it doesn’t happen right?

And of course, Happy 25th Birthday Jenny Elizabeth Varghese. Go rent that car and take youngin’s to D&B’s!

This is Amy Hu signing off for October 1st, 2009.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Mom Birthday Chef copy

It’s my mother’s birthday today. The woman is 58 and we shy away from saying she’s going on 60. She’s a sensitive woman.

It’s weird to think my mother, once young and vibrant, can qualify for senior discounts at some restaurants. She’s still up and at it with her frail and petite body, in order to manage a bustling Chinese restaurant (on top of a wounded ankle and bad knee) and provide for my family.

I admire a lot about my mother and in the 58 years of being alive, she has seen and experienced much more than I may ever will in the world. I do still hate the fact that she’s working at her age, and it pains me to see her work so hard and never really deeply satisfied with anything.

And I know it’s because she has not encountered Jesus in a powerful way. But I continue to intercede for her soul, and understand that there are steps I need to take for that to happen. I believe it is by no mistake that I am an intern with InterVarsity, and the already “radical” things I’ve chosen into have shaken her up, though just a bit.

I actually don’t even know when my mother’s exact birthday is. They go by the lunar calendar and it becomes much more confusing every year. It’s probably because she gets two birthdays a year, using the excuse that she celebrates either tradition when each comes around. I’ve caught her clever ways, but hey, I’m always down to celebrate. This September 27th date is just an arbitrary date my mother used when she came to this country, but it’s managed to stick with us.

I now question whether her birth year is even correct and wonder if 58 is her actual age…

This is Amy Hu signing off for September 27th, 2009.

My Life Is a Sitcom (III)

My life is a sitcom.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had a mini-series of events that further affirm my starring role on the boob tube. I now share them with you all.

Episode 1 copy

Episode 1: Car Wash?Tis Futile

My car was filthy. Absolutely disgusting. The thick layer of collected dirt, avian feces, bits of forestry, and unmentionables clung onto the metallic skin of my new Honda Accord. Oh yeah, on top of that, someone decided to egg my car. My baby was in dire need of a wash.

During this time, my entire family (paternal) was gathered in Rosemead. Yes, all 30+ of us for my grandma’s 80th birthday. It was the first time my family was together in ages and it was the best chaos ever. Hu family fun topped off with some epic drama. Yum.

The family was ridiculing my car, and even my students decided to write messages that communicated the obvious need of my car to be cleaned during one of the many retreats we just had that month. So it was time, and my wonderful Aunt Shirley gave me a free ticket to a car wash near her house in Whittier–right in La Puente. Bless her soul.

So I took advantage of this and got lost for a good 20 minutes until I found the place. I got the “Premium Gold Package,” which meant for a fancy wash with all sorts of waxing and scents. I decided on Pina Colada.

After the wash and about 20 minutes of Luxor on my iTouch, my baby was shining in all its glory in the parking lot. But as I approached the car, I noticed something wasn’t right. One of employees of this fine establishment approached me and apologized (in Spanish too) they couldn’t get the stained and imprinted splatter of egg off my car. I should have gotten the Platinum Package. Apparently that includes major detailing and removal of huevos.

But I brushed it off and decided my car, despite the works of college douchebags, looked significantly better than before and was screaming cleanliness.

The next morning, I woke up at 10am to move my car as usual only to find my car was attacked by the sprinklers and my car was completely stained once again by the filthy water of Westwood.

I drove almost 30 miles to get my car washed and spent two hours doing so. I was patient with the egg stains, but this was ridiculous. I just got it washed and my baby looked like a machine with measles.

So I say, a fancy car wash for those who park their car in Westwood seems counterintuitive now.

Episode 3 copy

Episode 2: Of Course It Hit My Head
After two hours in LA traffic and arriving at our pre-fall conference for InterVarsity, I strolled into the park to join in on the fun festivities. As we were lazing about after some fun group games, I suddenly heard someone yell “Watch out!” I sometimes forget that is a warning to everyone to be on high alert and probably engage in some movement. It was one of those times.

Surely enough, I was struck in the head by a football going at impossible speeds and I blacked out for two seconds. Just two.

Stars flooded the summer sky and I grabbed my head hoping to push down the throbbing, sharp pain. One of our students ran over and apologized for a bad throw. But the key is in what he said in his apology:

“Amy! I’m so sorry! I threw the ball as hard as I could to Mike and I missed.”

Yup, you definitely missed. And you admitted to throwing it as hard as you could. No wonder. This is my life.

After the incident, everyone laughed and affirmed that of course it happened to me. Who else?

Episode 2 copy

Episode 3: My Fatal Dance Moves Strike Again
I was furiously creating fliers in my room for InterVarsity on my spiffy new Microsoft Publisher and just having a ball. I was grooving to some music as I clicked, dragged, cut and pasted. But you see, my dance moves have a history of being quite self-destructive, and that moment was a case-in-point.

**Side story about my fatal dance moves: I once danced out of my bathroom in my college dorm room (for entertainment purposes) and almost got stabbed doing so. I somehow “danced into the knife” as my sister held it out while cutting an apple. I was saved by the fact the knife was facing me at its dull end.

I somehow elbowed my wonderful water dispenser that lies on the left corner of my desk, and it tumbled down and knocked over the white paint that was being used to bring life in Me and Jess’s bedroom.

Everything was in slo-mo as I watched the paint spread furiously across our industrial blue carpet. I then proceeded to scream to the heavens and yell things that affirmed my stupidity and the high probability of unfortunate situations happening in my life.

I quickly put on an old pair of jeans and scooped the paint furiously and had to pick out all the wonderful hair along with it. I looked at the paint that covered the power strip and the things plugged into it and prioritized the cleaning of those things. I looked like a 5-year old not knowing any better than to stick her hands into a mess and find fun and enjoyment out of it. I found no fun or enjoyment during those three hours of cleaning.

My hands were burning and sore after I scooped and scraped with them until most of liquid was gone. But after two hours of that, the carpet looked like I vomited yogurt.

Praise the Lord because Jared, Jess’s boyfriend, came over and assisted in the cleanup. He provided much joy in a stressful situation, and pwned the spots on the ground. Furthermore, he had a job interview and work afterward and still decided to take on the cleaning. Bless his heart.

I eventually gave up and finished up what I was doing and later that day, Janice came over and also assisted me. We were on the spatula phase and so we worked out a system of scraping and towel blotting. I love that girl to death, and she was indeed heaven-sent.

I put in my last efforts to clean late that night, while putting on my Carpenters and Beatles records. I had paint everywhere on me for days, and it was actually quite hilarious. It looked like I got french tips and highlights. Sexy.

Yup, the carpet still looks pretty bad but thanks to Jess’s patience and understanding, we decided to leave the carpet as it was. Now it just kinda smells funny. Whoops.

Episode 4 copy

Episode 4: Guitar (Hero) Solo
My attempts to get to know people in leaving Jon and David’s door open was failing, as I banked on people passing me by and being attracted to the popular game I knew people loved. And after three songs, I realized how much of a loser I must look like if anyone
actually did walk by. Possible awkard conversation:

Student: “Oh hi, looks like you’re having fun playing Guitar Hero here by yourself.”
Me: “Oh by myself? No I would love it someone could join me. Would you like to?”
Student: “Sure, that sounds fun. Hey, like how you decorated your room.”
Me: “Oh yeah, this, um…isn’t my room. It’s actually Jon and David’s room. Have you met them?”
Student: “No actually…so you’re in their room playing Guitar Hero alone while they’re not here?”
Me: “Yeah…but you know, they’ll be back soon and I’m just hanging out and seeing if anyone was around.”
Student: “Oh cool. So do you live on this floor then?”
Me: “No actually…I live in the apartments.”
Student: “Oh, are you an upperclassmen or something?”
Me: “I graduated this past summer actually…”
Student: “So you don’t go here anymore and you’re in in Jon and David’s room alone playing Guitar Hero hoping someone would walk by? That’s weird…What are you doing here?”
Me: “I actually am friends with them and some other people on the floor and am starting a Bible Study soon. You’ll see me around here haha.”
Student: “Oh…interesting. Hey, you only have one guitar controller for your Guitar Hero, and it looks like you were really into it. I’ll let you go. It was nice meeting you. Bye.”
Me: “Well if you ever want to hang out, we should! Crap what’s your name and what room are you in! No, I mean I’ll see you around! Frick…”

Disaster. Absolute disaster. I am an idiot. Ryland, Amanda Lee and Lai, and Anna affirmed that I didn’t look too good at that point. Agreed.

Episode 5 copy

Episode 5: Time for New Shoes
But because of the duct tape, it has also made it so the bottom of my shoes lack in grip. This was apparent when I strolled to the Activities Fair at UCLA and fell in front of everyone at the entrance.

The worst part of it all was that it wasn’t a full-on slip and fall, and then a big thud on the ground. There was a slight grade and I stepped in a slippery spot and my foot just simply slid in front of me slowly. So very slowly that it looked like a weird dance move.  I got plenty of unwanted attention and it was terrible.

My life is a sitcom, and the September mini-series provides such further evidence. I want a larger variety of laugh tracks please.

This is Amy Hu signing off for September 22, 2009.

Give Me More Novocaine

I got one wisdom tooth pulled yesterday. Yup, just looking like half a chipmunk. Kind of strange. You probably couldn’t take me seriously if you saw me. Something I noticed.

I didn’t “go under”–apparently the dentist my dad took me to didn’t practice general anesthesia. Probably would have been helpful prior to sitting down in the dentist chair with the drill in her hand. Oh well.

So I suffered through the whole process. Worst points were when I could feel the pain of both the cutting and drilling–wasn’t enough Novocaine as well as feeling like Dr. Chao was holding down my jaw so hard she was going to rip it out as if we were on a zombie movie set. It’ll haunt me for the next couple of days.

I’m going to have to go back at least once to get the other bottom and top ones done. She didn’t recommend I do all at once because of how impacted my tooth had grown into my bone and other teeth. So another trip to endure being awake during dental torture is something I obviously do not look forward to.

In thinking about my life in general, I kind of feel like I’m in that chair all the time. All the hard things God is bringing up in this season of life is finally pressing in on me, waiting to come out like my wisdom teeth. I can’t pretend like it doesn’t bother me anymore–it’s affecting my jaw with its consistent popping, painful pushing against my other teeth, and the hitting of my nerves. Similarly, I can no longer pretend the things I need healing for from my past aren’t there. It would be a lie to say they aren’t causing me to stumble, to fall, and to forget. I need to take it out.

novocaine

Things would be so much easier if I could just be put to sleep and wake up with all my wisdom teeth pulled out. But for some reason, God wants me to sit through the long and torturous process. Every cut, every drill, every shot, and every pull. But it’s not like He’s not giving me Novocaine to ease the pain. He’s with me the whole way and wants me to feel and see how the tooth is taken out.

It’s not the greatest analogy in the world, but it makes sense. My conscience is dulled and I need to feel the pain, regret, and consequences or I will live life without paying attention to the tugs at my heart and gut feelings. I’ve reached a point where there is nowhere to turn but to Him, and it is a good place to be.

I’m ready for my next appointment Doctor. Just give me more Novocaine.

This is Amy Hu signing off for August 22nd, 2009.

My Life Is a Sitcom (I)

My life is a sitcom.

Last weekend, the women staff of InterVarsity Bruin Christian Fellowship was privileged enough to indulge in a getaway at a beach house in Port Hueneme. Jess’s coworker so graciously lent us her humble abode by the sea for us to unwind, get refreshed, and bond. I believe we accomplished all of that except not through the most expected of ways. Allow me to explain.

Us six women had just finished a wonderful feast of sweet potato fries, salad, corn, crescent rolls, and grilled Mahi-Mahi and was gathered around ready to head out for a moonlight stroll with a possible stop at the Dairy Queen. After some conversation, we decided to clean up before going on such a walk and praise the Lord we did.

Ingrid headed to the kitchen first and proceeded to ask, in the most kind and calm manner, “Guys, is there supposed to be a fire outside? Wait, there shouldn’t be right?”

I and some of the others rushed to the kitchen to the double doors that led to the patio. They were a bright orange and it looked like I was on the set of Backdraft. And I thought to myself, “Shit. I was the one who barbecued.”

FML.
FML.

You see, I would not do it justice in sharing such a story over my blog. The story’s beauty comes from a group effort, told from multiple perspectives and that, in its fullest effect, is where I have moments where I pause and ask myself, “Where are the cameras?”

Yes, this used to be a broom. I was wielding this firey object and whacking the flames unsuccessfully.
Yes, this used to be a broom. I was wielding this firey object and whacking the flames unsuccessfully.

But I’ll at least say that by the grace of God, the house was barely even charred. The stupid move came in me deciding to be resourceful, a both useful and destructive characteristic of my Asian culture, when I put back some warm charcoal into its original bag. I’ll leave you with that.

So go ahead, when you see any of us women, ask us “How’d you manage to not burn the house down that weekend in Port Hueneme?” We’ll probably chuckle, pause for a couple of seconds to gather ourselves, and start with “Amy put some Mahi-Mahi on the barbecue grill for dinner that night…”

What was once a broom now hangs on our balcony door. It's very special to us.
What was once a broom now hangs on our balcony door. It's very special to us.

Oy.

Happy Birthday Lisa. I hope Disneyland was fun today, and the cardboard cutout of Edward Cullen in our room is still creeping me out a little.

This is Amy Hu signing off for August 7, 2009.

I <3 San Francisco

San Francisco. I love everything about the city (well maybe except for its vehicular system).

I was born there, raised there for a while, and even peed on the street once. Yeah, we were at the laundromat with no restrooms and I was four with a bladder that didn’t accommodate my body to not leak out liquid for 5 hours. Well, can anyone? Apparently my Aunt Son Fei could. Unless she pulled a fast one on me and the people around us. Or a slow and painfully disturbing one…hm…I, along with many others, prefer the timely option.

I was able to go back to San Francisco last Saturday and visit the old neighborhood in North Beach. Tammy, Mel, Janice and I got to show Jenny around San Francisco considering she had never been up to the northern regions of the Golden State before. We hit up the Golden Gate Bridge, Little Italy, Fisherman’s Wharf, and Ghirardelli Square. I was hoping to fit in Chinatown and Union Square, but the hours zoomed by and not enough was left for us. It was extremely fun to be with wonderful company and enjoy the cool, crisp air of the Bay.

One day, I’ll probably live in San Francisco. That’s always been a long dream of mine to move there. But for now, I’ve fallen in love with Los Angeles. San Francisco will hold a special place in my heart. It’ll be extra special every time I trek up north.

This is Amy Hu signing off for July 26th, 2009.

I Find Humor In Everything

I attempted to not make one joke for just one night. That in itself was a joke.

My roommate Lisa and I agreed on a bet where my endurance and self-control was challenged: I was to not crack one joke from 5pm on Tuesday until we went to sleep that night.

A “joke” was defined, basically, as any words, gestures, or facial expressions that would provoke any sort of laughter or response. This could be in response to what someone else said or an observation I was making. Laughter was also tricky because if I was laughing at someone, that would mean I was teasing, which is considered me provoking humor.

When I came home from work a little after 5, Lisa had the best setup–she was lying on my bed on her borrowed laptop, waiting for me to notice the Twilight desktop background she had added as well as my internet browser opened up to Scooter World. That was a taste of what the night was like. It was absolute torture.

So very many things I wanted to say that I strained my throat and face to the point of pain and soreness. I wanted to laugh so many times, as even Kelly, Mel and friggin’ Tammy ganged up on me. As Lisa put it, I was a volcano ready to erupt and everyone was poking my bulging mountainside.

Lisa was actually quite lenient in the whole process, as it was obvious the supposed “observations” and facial reactions itself was intended for humor, even with my serious tone of voice.

We ended up at the Century City Mall getting Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and further torture and poking at my volcanic self occurred as the worker of this infamous ice cream shop decided it would be funny to have a hypothetical food fight. I was the kid at the playground who oh so very much wanted to join in on the four-square game. But I instead pretended I was not interested and chuckled in pain.

And then my lava leaked.

No, that is not an analogy for my menstrual cycle and pants wear, but I cracked the most subtle joke without even thinking about it. There was Lisa, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and the color green involved.

Yes, it was the most “unepic” ending to this whole ordeal, but I just simply could not take it anymore.

So what lesson did I learn from last night? I do find humor in everything, and it’s a large part of how I communicate and relate to people. Sure, I can be serious when needed, but I naturally look for opportunities for a subtle joke here, and a ridiculous comment there.

Twilight Movie Poster

As a result of being on the losing end of such a wager, I had to buy Twilight on DVD, and Lisa just cannot wait for us to watch it together. I do not look forward to adding such a movie to my DVD collection. And no, I cannot give it away. It was part of the deal.

She feels terrible about making me buy it and watch it, but I am a woman of my word. I think it tortured her more to see me buy it than me. Oh Lisa.

I’ll tell ya, I really wanted Lisa to wear her penguin robe while eating dinner before our summer small group community. But then again, I might have a near-death experience in watching her attempt to eat with flippers and a hood. But it looks like I’d better find a two hour block of time for some vampire/human love.

This is Amy Hu signing off for July 14th, 2009.

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