Me speakee indie

Here I am, a Filipino-Chinese fellow who sometimes likes to mimic a bad indian accent.

Some friends of mine have said that this is quite racist of me, but the truth is I don't really have anything against Indians.

And besides, there are like over a billion Indians out there. I'm pretty sure the odds are good that at least THREE of them are doing bad chinese or filipino impressions with funny accents as well.

"Why you make fun my speak, heh? You want me show you Kung Fu?"

I just consider myself the Yang to their Singh.

But when I think about it, it's probably not a smart idea to be posting a joke that might offend the people who invented Karma.

Crisis Management

One of the more popular sayings I keep hearing nowadays goes like this:

"They say 30 is the new 20."

Popular, if you're 29 (like me) or if you're in your 30's.
But then, no one is saying that 40 is the new 30.

One day you're the new 29, the next you're checking a whole new box in one of those age group demographic surveys in magazines.

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That, for me, was one of the surest signs of aging. After years of checking the 18-25 box, I found myself checking the 26 to 35 box. I was like: "Holy Crap! I'm in another age group now."

Kinda sucks doesn't it? (Well, not if you're 35, I imagine)

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I'm just about over my quarter life crisis, which started after my adolescent crisis phase.

(I'd call it my awkward phase but after 20 years of awkwardness, It's probably safe to say that it's NOT a phase...)

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Quarter life crisis. How convenient of them to invent something that could tide me over till my midlife crisis..

Except... you don't usually get to have a midlife crisis until your late 30s. So there's a gap. A crisis-less span of time which the angst ridden spawn of Eddie Vedder, Alannis and Kurt Cobain have no artificially induced pain to cling to.

Until some brilliant sociologist, or socialite, just declares "30 is the new 20" giving us another set of quarter life crisis years.

(To be fair, they considered inventing a "3/8ths life crisis" but the math was just over their heads.)

This insult to your intelligence was brought to you by...

I recently discovered that companies can now pay some of our local gag shows to spoof their ads or products.

Which initially disappointed me because it tends to cheapen the whole thrill one gets when an ad you like gets a nice send up.

But on the other hand, I must admit it's brilliant! Charging companies who want you to ridicule them.

It's the dream business.

It's like that nazi soup kitchen on Seinfeld where people line up in droves to get berated by an unruly, sadistic cook who, quite frankly, probably isn't all that on the cooking side of things.

Heck, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog from Conan O Brien made a whole name for himself out of this whole schtick. Only in America can a cheap looking sock puppet that probably costs less than a Happy Meal become a pop culture icon by talking about poop.

I for one wouldn't mind getting paid to make fun of other people. Who wouldn't?

And not just ads and companies. How about politicians, celebrities... hell, I'd take total strangers!

Imagine clocking in a work in the morning and attending these huge brainstorming sessions where we figure out new ways to insult our clients.

"Are we good on the SMC humiliating?"

"I think they haven't signed their C.E."

"What? Draw up their account. We can't be mocking these prehistoric morons for free."

"Sir, you just called our highest paying client prehistoric morons."

"Dammit. OK, that one's on me. But next time, we bill them..."

Why I'm Single (a clue)

There's this barrista at one of the Starbucks' (starbuckses?) I frequent who I find kinda cute.

So I figure... maybe I should ask her out for coffee sometime?

Shopping Spree

Basketball fans may have heard of this one... it's actually old news.

Recently, NBA star Latrell Sprewell of the Minnesota Timberwolves was complaining that he wasn't getting paid enough. OK, we all get that. Despite the astronomical salaries of these players, there are some understandable instances wherein they are allowed to say they are underpaid.

But get this, the multi-millionaire who stands to earn $14.6 million goes on to say "I got my family to feed."

I'm sure this raises a lot of questions about Sprewell but what I'd really like to know is: Where is he buying his food?
You've gotta wonder... that must be one heck of a grocery store.

Something to think about.

There I was, sitting in my car , stuck in traffic, when I thought:

Does Bill Gates, probably the richest man in the world, pick his own nose... or does he have servants do it for him?

Maybe even robot servants at that...

If only actual reality were like reality TV.

I mean, I'm a "joe bachelor"... where are the 30 hot girls trying to win me over and being scandalously offensive towards my moral upbringing?

I'd like to get 25,000 dollars for every time I accidentally eat insects or rat body parts from cheap fast food joints.

Maybe I could have a panel of American Idol judges around for every decision I have to make:

-- Randy: "That parking space is ayt dawg. A little far from the entrace, but you can walk the walk."
-- Paula: "You know I am a huge, huge fan of your driving. That parking space is perfect. You are perfect. The whole world is filled with pretty rainbows, pretty colored butterflies and sugar coated lollipops."
-- Simon: "The problem with that Parking Space is it's NOT a smart space. Only an idiot would park that far. It is dreadful. You are dreadful. I am gay."

It would be cool if more queer guys had as their purpose in life to drive around giving us free clothes, free haircuts, free food, free furniture and free tips on how to score with chicks (although, really... how credible is the source for that last one?) everytime we have a dinner to go to, or a speech to make, or even just for that all important trip to the Automated Teller Machine.

In real life, how would a straight guy really react to five, flamboyantly gay strangers suddenly barging into his house and rifling through his underwear and porn collection?

I probably wouldn't mind Paris Hilton living with my family for a few weeks. (Although Nicole Richie can go take a road trip...)

I'd also like to be able to vote off every person in my life who gives me grief. And my dentist too while I'm at it. A couple of weeks from now, our company is going off on a beach trip. One of my officemates and I figure this might be a good opportunity to thin the herd...

-- "Cynthia from marketing, the tribe has spoken. You Are the weakest link. You're Fired."

Then we'd see the exit interview as the credits roll across the screen.