i was, like, a mall rat for a day

last weekend i did something i haven't done in about 15 years. I sat in a mall food court for about 4 hours checking out teenagers. oh, yes, that's what my massive business school dollars are going towards.

before you get all weirded out, no, i wasn't there to hook up with some dude so i can wear his varsity jacket. i was there with my market research group for some work we're doing for a friend who wants to open up an upscale salon targeted at "tween" girls.

Our mission - yes, we chose to accept it - was to get at least 50 "tweens" (girls age 10-16) to fill out a survey for a conjoint analysis we were conducting about how much they were willing to spend on things like manicures, pedicures etc. Before you start to yawn, here are a few things that made it interesting:

• two of my team members where dudes, so they were really concerned about getting arrested for looking like they were hitting on teenage girls. i thought that was kind of funny, esp since one of them is married with a kid due next month, so i made one of them come with me on our first "hit" of girls. she totally dissed him. sorry, max. maybe it was the wool-sweater-over-the-collared-shirt professor look. (p.s. our professor said he had bail money set aside for that weekend...just in case)
• according to research we found, these girls spend about $50-$100 a week on entertainment! that's more than i got in a month's allowance when i was growing up. to think - all the keds and colored socks i could have bought...
• our biggest concern was the mall cop - the man (or woman) who wears a ranger hat and dresses like a cop, patroling the mall for hoodlums like us (we're technically not allowed to administer surveys in a mall without permission). but we had a strategy down, man. no clipboards to flag us. identify a homebase table. order fries or a drink every hour or so to look like we wanted to just "hang" as kids these days call it. wear cool shirts that say "try me" or "bad ass" to fit in with the cool kids. give out free colorful nail files (which ended up looking like sharp weapons, but hey, whatever.)

Anyway, four hours and 54 surveys later (we even got a guy to fill one out!), mission accomplished! Must have been that "bad ass" shirt i wore.

To further prolong the adventure, on the way home, Max says "John, have you ever had a flat tire?" No exaggeration, 30 seconds later, John's tire blows out on the freeway, the tire rolls down the side of the hill and we're stuck on the shoulder. Strike two for Max today! I also love it when i'm in Chicago at 19 degree temperatures when this kind of stuff happens. it's pretty fun. at least i was looking hip with my "bad ass" shirt.

Where do you fall?

a non-valentine's day valentine's moment

a couple of weeks ago, i was having a bad start to the day and my bf comes home with a "surprise." He is excited and busts out some seven-layer dip and a bag of tortilla chips. Now, my first thoughts were, "well, that's nice, but he knows i hate junk food right? what the heck? (yes, we say things like heck and darn). this would be the last thing i'd pick out at the store..." He saw my look and said, "well, okay. these are more for me. i figured you might not want this. so i got you these too." a bag of fresh grapes and a bouquet of flowers. does he know me or does he know me?

okay - you may officially barf now.

happy belated heart day everyone!

i'm OK with no K

as predicted, i didn't get cast in Special K. but honestly, i wasn't really all that disappointed.

one, i knew there were a lot of other talented people who were trying out (and i was not necessarily at the top of that rung); two, my bf didn't make it either (a real boo, but at least we will actually see each other the last quarter i'm here); three, i did it for the BALLS baby! i needed to show i had some balls to just be able to go through with it. and i did. to me, that's all that matters in the end.

it's a new day - what's the next challenge?

baby oh baby...corn

no but really, where does baby corn come from?

i was thinking that the other day. i don't think i've ever seen "fresh" baby corn like i do other veggies. i mean, really, it always comes in a jar or at the salad bar. and is it in fact real corn? A mutant? How does it grow? Where? I decided to find the answers the all these questions and more. Thought others might be having the same veritable quandry so wanted to share what i found on this great site called Ask Yahoo!:

"Those tiny corncobs aren't genetically mutated dwarf ears of corn -- they're just immature ears of regular corn - many varieties of corn can be used to produce baby corn. The secret is in the harvesting. Baby corn ears are picked by hand immediately when the silks emerge from the ear tips or a few days after. Corn matures quickly, so the harvest must be timed carefully to avoid ending up with normal corn ears. Baby corn ears are generally 4.5cm to 10cm in length and 7mm to 17mm in diameter.

Most baby corn commercially available in the U.S. is grown and processed in Asia, particularly in Thailand. Because baby corn must be picked by hand, it is too labor-intensive for most American farms. It's been an extremely important crop in Thailand since 1976, and other Asian nations have also begun producing and exporting it. Perhaps this is why baby corn is so often found in Asian recipes."

So i guess it's kinda like eggs. You take em and ship em before they get "ripe". Those poor little baby corns - cut down before their prime. Sigh. Anyhow, now you know.

Special K is good for the heart

Today was a big day for me.

I decided last week that i was going to try out for our school's big annual production, Special K. Some might say, "so what's the big deal?" But you don't understand. I have this huge fear of performing in front of other people. Huge!

And to make things more scary, here's what the audition entailed:

• a dance routine to music that we had to learn in a "dance clinic" a week before (not easy)
• pick a song and sing it for a minute in front of a panel of five
• they pick a song for you to sing and then you have to sing bars on a scale
• they make you rap (oh, yes i did, yes i did.)
• read a monologue as some weird character (i was assigned a pro wrestler who is directing the safety instructions on a plane)
• act out two improv games

It was one of the most nerve-racking things i've ever done and i'm so glad i went through it because i know that once i graduate, i'm not going to have another opportunity to try something like that again. and regardless of whether i make the cut (i'm not holding my breath), i still feel a sense of accomplishment.

It's nice to think that i'm still willing to pushing my limits once in a while. just thinking about the audition now still makes my stomach tingle. but i feel like as we get older and more set in our ways, we don't try and venture out to try different things as much anymore, don't like to get out of our comfort zone. but in the end, that's how we continue to grow and learn and become better and stronger people no matter what age we are.

i gotta remind myself of that 20 years from now.

you dog you - happy new year

happy chinese new year everyone! (okay, so it was sunday, but better late than never). year of the dawg, yo. check out your horoscope for the year: http://chinese.astrology.com/year/index.html?ice=ast,tabchi,dog (p.s. if you were born in 1977, you're a snake)

i've been thinking about what it must have been like to have grown up asian in the midwest - i'd be such a different person than who i am now. no one here really ever asks me about my culture or anything about being chinese. it just doesn't come up and doesn't seem to be something that people consider part of my identity. compared to SF, where i feel like it comes up all the time and defines who i am.

a couple of weeks ago, my boyfriend and i went to the only chinese restaurant in Evanston. we just wanted to grab a quick lunch and do the cheap lunch special (we're students afterall). We came in and spoke Chinese to the guy (gotta practice sometime) and he got really excited and started to tell us about the special (steamed mutton buns). then he gave us both the lunch menu and the "real" one and said, "oh, you guys probably don't want anything from the lunch menu. here's the good stuff." i looked at dodger and was, like, shoot! does that mean i, as a true chinese, can't order from the lunch menu now? He'll look down on us. he will think we are those total white-washed asian americans who aren't really asian. we aren't! we aren't! i wanted to say. i can speak the language. i know about all the crazy superstitions. i even own those silk slippers. i just want a cheap mabo tofu dish. is that so bad?

we were ready to compromise and order one order from the "real" menu and one order from the lunch menu. then maybe he'd still be able to look us in the eye. then we caved. "Two orders of the mabo tofu special please."

Aw well, i got over it.

Last week, i went over to my friend diva's place and made potstickers from scratch. green onions, water chestnuts, straw mushrooms, ground meat. just like our moms used to make. it was so therapeutic, refreshing, nostalgic. there's just something about these traditions that makes life good again.

on chinese new year, i flew back from dallas (for an interview). i didn't have anything planned but in a last minute of sadness about it, i decided to make a homecooked meal for my boyfriend and i. i couldn't bear not celebrating chinese new year at all. i went to the grocery store to pick up some things and in front of me at checkout was this old chinese lady buying some ingredients for dinner. i don't ever see old chinese ladies around here. she talked with an accent, seemed very kind and reminded me of my mom. made me miss home even more on the new year day. i tapped her on the shoulder, smiled and said, "happy new year". She looked up caught off guard, smiled and touched me on the shoulder and said in chinese, "you are a sweet girl. happy new year too." that made me feel at home, just for a second.

some greens, soup, my potstickers. in the end, it became a really nice meal. nothing even close to what mom used to make - she'd cringe. but alas, that's just a telltale that my version of chinese will never be what it was growing up. i'm just as american as i am chinese now. but it's a part of me that i don't think i'd ever let go of. kinda like mabo tofu.