A would-be anthropologist, full-time cosmetic counter drone, crusher of wayward souls, and prolific hair farmer based in Edmonton, Canada, trying to balance being a "good" Vietnamese daughter whilst never sacrificing my penchant for heavy metal, scuzzy men and gaudy lipstick. Currently stumbling towards no specific career, crying the whole damn way, blotting tears with a useless degree.
ways i have tricked people into thinking i am competent:
bought a really nice looking fountain pen
that sounds like a joke but fountain pens are cheap as shit and when you use one people look at you like you’re a fucking wizard
this hero 901 cost me $3 on ebay and i don’t know why people assume that this is a pen for intelligent people but they do
it works better when i am using a nice notebook and not the avengers notebook that makes it look like the hulk is grabbing my sweet pen
i write in code which for some reason leads everyone to assume that i am some kind of da vinci motherfucker, instead of the reality, which is that i am writing about dicks and don’t want anyone to know
it looks like i am constantly taking notes on everything which is both intimidating and inaccurate, just the way i like it
i bought a usb clicker/laser pointer for $11 and now it seems like i’ve got this shit on lock, like i am so pro at giving presentations i even own accessories
holding a clicker makes you seem at least 10% more like you know what you’re talking about i’m pretty sure
i check the weekly freebies on creativemarket every monday so now i have a huge folder of pro-looking website themes and powerpoint templates and fill-in-the-blank resumes (also a lot of autumnal clipart and watercolor flowers and script fonts but that is less relevant)
i bought a ceramic coffee mug at world market years ago and it makes me look like a productive coffee-drinker because no one knows it’s full of hot cocoa
i don’t know why drinking coffee makes you look busy it just does even though i’m pretty sure it statistically reduces productivity
bonus: not only does no one know i’m just drinking Depression Chocolate but they think i am being Environmentally Conscious rather than Poor As Shit
extra bonus: i can take a sip whenever it looks like someone is going to ask a question and then they ask someone else
i almost never have to answer questions and i leave the room a lot because i have to pee constantly so double extra bonus
“That’s a very good question, and one that deserves an in-depth answer, so if you’d like to leave me your card I’d be happy to discuss it with you later one-on-one” aka “how DARE you suggest i waste everyone’s time answering this question right now” aka “lmfao i have no fucking clue what you just said please let me secretly google that okay”
bonus: now it seems like you are a sophisticated grownup who assumes everyone has A Card and if they have to settle for writing their email on a scrap of paper you can feel smug about it even though in your heart you know that you are no better
i’ve got anxiety and poor impulse control and anxiety about my poor impulse control so i generally say jack shit about shit and this constant silence is often misinterpreted as aloof observation
no one knows that my air of mystery is actually a bad case of the shy and i am too shy to correct them so it works out
when i’m on my laptop and i don’t want anyone to notice how much i’m dicking around i turn the brightness way down so they can’t snoop without being obvious
at least one window of notepad++ with some random html page or css stylesheet in it makes randos assume you are some kind of genius doing some genius shit, unless they are CS major randos, in which case i guess find an intimidating looking excel spreadsheet and hope for the best
THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW PLEASE I ADVISE YOU GUYS TO DRAW ALONG WITH BOB ROSS IN MS PAINT IT IS AN EXPERIENCE I AM SO CONFUSED BUT PLEASED FUCKING DO IT
in my sophomore year of college this guy made these items which quickly became a craze across campus. i myself bought one of his sweaters, which says “GOOD AND DEAD” across the chest and “ARM PAIN” along the sleeves. he showed up at 11 pm on a bicycle to deliver the goods in the dead of winter, wearing a metal t-shirt tucked into khakis. his facebook screen name is an indecipherable series of symbols. i have no authentic way to credit him but i want to share his art with you.
Picture it:
it’s 2016, King of the Hill is still on.
The Republican primaries are going on. The guys are in the alley, Dale is talking excitedly about finally having a candidate brave enough to “speak the truth” about the pyramids. Hank worries that while being a neurosurgeon is a great job, he may be unqualified for commander in chief. Boomhauer cracks a near incomprehensible joke about Trump and they all laugh at the possibility. Later at work Mr. Strickland tries to push Hank into putting a bumper sticker on his truck in support of the “businessman’s candidate” and Hank wrestles with the perceived “vulgarity” of such an action for the rest of the episode.
The primaries are over. Hank and Peggy are faced with the seemingly impossible decision between who the two have decided to be the Worst Man in America and the Woman Who Stands for All that is Wrong with Politics. Hank becomes increasingly alienated at work with his vehemently pro-Trump boss. Every less positive trait Strickland has exhibited over the years seems to be shared and magnified in Trump. He starts having nightmares about having to clean up President Strickland’s messes.
Peggy is hired writing highly lucrative fake news online until her research into her assignments lead her to a singular source: Dale Gribble. When she takes this to her editor he laughs and tells her that the people don’t care, most of them don’t read past the article. She was just there to get the clicks heading their way. And she was doing a great job. She quit in published article form the next day.
The Thanksgiving episode:
The gang is out at megalomart picking up supplies for Thanksgiving. The guys are trying to “game the system” by buying four of the turkey smokers on sale (limit one per person) and competing to see who can cook the best turkey. They run into John Redcorn on buying a massive amount of firewood and sleeping bags and other survival gear. Dale immediately approaches and asks him what he’s up to. John Redcorn talks to Dale and Hank and tells them that he’s going to Standing Rock and tells them about what’s happening there. Dale immediately volunteers to join and help him bring down the federal government, and also because he’s pretty sure even his “Alien brine” can’t beat Bill’s Cajun seasoning. He also insists on bringing Joseph so he can continue his educ on government resistance. John Redcorn is finally afforded an opportunity to connect with his son in a meaningful way.
Hank, more disheartened by his government than ever before, agrees with an “if our country makes an agreement, then we need to honor it.” he takes his first non-forced vacation days in years. Peggy and Bobby, now left with turkeys and fixings for four Thanksgiving meals, decide to cook everything anyways and hand meals out to the needy in town. Now Peggy really can claim she makes the best apple brown Betty in town They discard the “alien brined” turkey just in case.
"…I realize that having grown up in the United States, most of the images of Vietnam and Vietnamese people had to do with the American War. And those images were always, in a sense, a setup. You get involved with a Vietnamese person in a movie and they always die. You get involved with, you know, a timeline photo essay of a Vietnamese person and they always die. That was the story, they always die. If you watch Platoon, if you watch Rambo, if you watch Full Metal Jacket or Apocalypse Now, the story is not really about Vietnamese people or places. It’s about the U.S. soldiers who have basically been dropped there to fight the war. And the Vietnamese people are kind of a backdrop to the drama of the U.S. soldiers. They are inseparable from the rice paddies, they are inseparable from the mountains, they are inseparable from the water buffaloes. They die. That was the setup. They never lived. They never lived. They never lived. They were never characters who are individuals. You never saw them lived. There were never pleasure, there were never ecstasy, there were never sorrow. Really, they were just there in a sense to be the backdrop, inseparable from the jungle, inseparable from the tigers in the jungle, inseparable from the heat, inseparable from the humidity. They never lived…"
I
thought of this video while reading this article (below) on teaching
about the Vietnam War. It’s always vet stories, and we never know the
stories of Vietnamese whose lives, cultures, and families were
fundamentally changed for generations.
