You are currently browsing posts tagged with Awkward Moments
I spent most of today trying to remember what my official “birds and bees” talk was like. My memory was just so fuzzy—didn’t my mom walk into my room one day during junior high, sit down on my bed, pat the seat next to her, and ask if I’d been feeling a little different lately? Something like that?
Oh wait, that was a Full House episode or something. My mom never gave me the talk. Like, NEVER. We NEVER TALKED ABOUT SEX.
I mean, when my sister ran away from the house her senior year in ’88 to stay with her awesomely white trash boyfriend’s awesomely white trash family, a long period ensued during which my aunts and mom would call each other from their respective homes in Michigan, Indiana, Missouri and California to speak in hushed tones about the filthy indiscretions. “Your sister, she lays with boys,” my aunt said to me while I was playing with my Barbies. “No man will ever marry her.” (She was wrong, by the way.)
When I was 17 and snuck my then-beau up into my second-story Southern California bedroom, my mom became suspicious at a noise and barreled down the hall, bursting through my door. He swiftly jumped to a hiding spot and I was discovered alone, laying awkwardly atop my fully made bed in a star-patterned bra and panties, looking guilty. My mom was confused and disturbed. She looked me in the eye and said, “You’re… I… I know what you do.” She left the room with no further talk about sex, even though my night probably included it.
I think the conversation, if we’d ever had one, would have been one-sided: “Don’t have sex.” Conversation over.
Hyphen Magazine recently addressed this kind of no-talk policy in an article called “Asian-American Women Who Accept Abortion as a Way Out.” Writer Lisa Wong Macabasco explores how deeply ingrained the denial of sex is in Asian cultures, and how categorical aversion to sex (or proof of it) has shaped generous Eastern attitudes towards drastic measures like abortion over generations. In short: abortion is less shameful than the truly disgraceful act that it functions to hide, sex.
Filed under: Abortion, Aunts, Awkward Moments, Culture Clashes, Denial, Hardass Asian Parenting, Hardass Asian Parents' Nightmares, Hyphen Magazine, Let's Talk About Sex Baby, Sex, The Birds And The Bees, The Talk
Here’s a romantic story…
A Japanese robotics professor falls for a beautiful female employee of Kokoro (Sanrio’s humanoid robot division). They tumble deeply in love, and are married at a beautiful ceremony, surrounded by family and friends. The sacred, romantic service is officiated by none other than their close friend… a humanoid robot with the world’s cutest voice.
And no, it wasn’t Ann Curry:
Robot. Wedding. Robot. Wedding.
OMG OMG OMG I JUST HAVE CREEPY AWKWARD TINGLES RUNNING ALL THROUGH MY BODY RIGHT NOW! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!
[via Boing Boing]
Filed under: Asians and Their Unholy Obsession with Technology, Awkward Moments, Cute Voices, Humanoid Robots, Japanese Robots, KokoroS, Robot Officiates Wedding, Robotics Professor, Robots, Sanrio, Seriously? Marriage Is Sacred?, Stiff Ceremonies, Weddings, Weddings are Stupid, Weird Japanese Behavior
Something tells me your parents are not gonna be swayed by the whole “But it was a BRONZE MEDAL!!!” thing.
You might get disowned and be forced to move far away. In the event that you need a place to stay, please do not hesitate to email us.
Filed under: A Life In Pictures, Awkward Moments, Bad Photos, Boarders Are Hot, Bronze Medal, Disownment, Embarrassing, Everybody Loves a Winner, Getting Head, Incriminating Photos, Love Bites, Olympic Medals, Parents, Scotty Lago, Snowboarders, the Olympics, Vancooter, Vancouver Olympics, Whoopsieeee
Need evidence? In last night’s episode, he awkwardly pushes himself up against former pro wrestler Torrie Wilson to prove his straightness, giggles, and then pulls away. Hot behavior–white hot. And totally something a straight guy could and would do while bearing a shit-eating grin and not springing a boner.
I buy it, don’t you?? Anyway, moving on. I’m in the mood to go dancing, perhaps to some Madonna. Who’s in?
Have you checked out the three month-old site, Awkward Family Photos? Perhaps you’ve already submitted your own pics, like when your dad was rocking that five inch-wide polyester tie or when you had that man-perm mullet that made you look like a show poodle instead of Mario Lopez circa Saved by the Bell. Lots of funny family portraits are to be found here, including families in business together, families in racial drag, and, you know, families just looking creepy and weird for no particular reason.
There are, of course, some photos of famous families, too:
That’s our embellishment by the way, and not something original to the photo, although given Kim Jong Il’s awkward relationship with his Number One Son, seems plausible, doesn’t it?
Thanks, Jasmine and jRu!
Every time–I’m talking, EVERY SINGLE TIME–I get a quick glance of a photo and see this one tiny Korean girl rocking rainbow rave style (minus the large tribal earrings), looking eerily like a low-rent rendition of my high school obsession (a diminutive raver pixie named Tiffany), I wrinkle my nose and scoff. I think: She’s ruining it. She’s fucking ruining it! She’s not rocking the colors right! Her shoes are whack! Her knees are all wrong! She looks like a nerdcore Skittles fanatic. She’s not even cool! What is WRONG with this sista??
And then I realize: that ain’t no sista.
Obama in the Oval Office, after giving him a tour of the White House
BUSH: Pretty cool digs, eh, Obamarama?
OBAMA: The best in the world, Mr. President. I’m looking forward to settling in.
BUSH: [Surveying the room] I can’t get over the fact that it doesn’t really feel like an oval.
BUSH: And y’know, I’m not looking forward to packing up all of my crap, y’know what I mean? Eight years is a long time. I’m like, tired. I hate wrapping stuff and putting it in boxes. Laura always ends up doing that kinda stuff for me. I just tell her I’m busy or I’m on the phone with some world leader or something. And if that doesn’t work I just threaten that I’ll drink again, he he. Works every time!
OBAMA: I’m sure it’s a pretty daunting task, Mr. President. Before we move forward, I think it would be a good idea to first talk about expediting the economic stimulus package.
BUSH: Oh, Borat, you know I can’t say the words “stimulus” and “package” in the same sentence without chuckling a little. Chuckling a lot, he he… “package!” [chuckles]
OBAMA: It’s important to take action on it now, and not just wait until I take office. That’s still two months away. And you’re the President right now.
BUSH: Oh, I can piss away a couple of months, no problem. Hell, Orama, if I had been running in this election I bet they’d still be counting ballots in January.
OBAMA: I’m not sure that’s the best way to look at it, Mr. President.
BUSH: Call me Georgie. I’ll call you Barry. Or… Osama! [chuckles]
OBAMA: I’d rather not.
BUSH: You’d rather what?
OBAMA: Mr. President, let’s talk about housing. Americans are losing their homes.
BUSH: I know, O Ban! I am one of those Americans! You’re comin’ in here and takin’ over the place with some weird hyper-anesthesia dog!
OBAMA: Mr. President, if I could just get you to focus…
BUSH: Have you wondered where exactly a squid’s face is? Those crazy-ass things don’t make a lick o’ sense to me. Kinda like Koreans.
OBAMA: No, Mr. President, I haven’t wondered much about that.
BUSH: Do you listen to Foreigner at all?
OBAMA: I have a very diverse playlist.
BUSH: Cool man, cool. So what’s it like being a Muslim?
OBAMA: [Sighs] Somebody, anybody, please just take the picture.
receiving a Certificate of Honor from the China Association of
Social Workers. She received the award for fundraising for poor
families and disabled children in China during her “Best Damn Tour.”
BOY: What’s this lady’s name again? April?
GIRL: I don’t know.
AVRIL: Avril. Avril Lavigne. I’m a punk rocker.
BOY: What’s a punk rocker?
GIRL: Somebody with a clothing line at Kohl’s.
AVRIL: It’s a punk rock clothing line.
BOY: If it’s punk rock, should it really be a retail line for a corporate brand?
GIRL: I don’t know.
AVRIL: Hey (hey!)! You (you!)!
BOY: What is she doing?
GIRL: God, I think she’s singing again. I hate when she does that.
BOY: I think she got some eyeliner on my cheek just now.
GIRL: Gee, I hope it wasn’t…kohl…eyeliner. [they laugh uncomfortably]
BOY: Why are we here again?
GIRL: Because the government said they would take our parents away if we didn’t?
GIRL: No. Our names just got chosen out of a hat.
AVRIL: Come a little closer, my little friends! Did you know that I speak Mandarin?
BOY: I have heard that, but I don’t think that’s Mandarin.
AVRIL: It is.
BOY: Okay. Whatever.
GIRL: Are they gonna take our picture or what?
BOY: I hope so. This chick’s face looks like it’s about to melt off.
AVRIL: No it doesn’t! I can hear you, you know.
BOY: Dude, it really does.
GIRL: You could use a facial. Maybe you could get one here.
AVRIL: Waitaminute you guys. This is not about me. This is about me raising money for poor people in China.
BOY: Okay. Thank you.
GIRL: Thank you. From China.
AVRIL: Great. Let’s take the picture! Smile?
GIRL: No, but thanks.
stages a totally meaningless photo-op/converses with an intellectual equal, finally/takes the first baby step toward being able to find Pakistan on a map meets with Pakistan Prez Asif Ali Zardari on Wednesday
ZARDARI: You are more gorgeous* than everyone has been saying. Not at all like a porn star.
PALIN: Thank you so much! Now, um, may I ask you, are you also a mother? I have five children. One of them is special-needs. Well, um, okay, two.
PALIN: In what respect,* President, um, (looks furtively at notes written in ballpoint ink on her right palm) Zar-dar-ee? Is that how ya say it?
ZARDARI: Did I say “hole”? I meant, “whole.” Oh, homonyms!
PALIN: You know, I’m glad you mentioned that. Because it is my understanding* that homonyms can be converted back to, um, um…normal people.
ZARDARI: The photographer is now insisting that we shake hands for the photo. If he’s insisting, I might hump, er, hug.** You. (clears throat) Hug you. I might hug you.
PALIN: Where is Pakistan exactly? Can I see it from my house*?
ZARDARI: (sexy, come-on voice) Why do you ask? Is it the mustache? Hubba-hubba.
PALIN: Thank you, sir, for meeting me today. I feel like I have a much better understanding of Pakis after this.
ZARDARI: And I of Alaskanis!
*these lines were pulled from actual interviews
**the real line was: “If he’s insisting, I might hug”
JARED: I can’t, I’m emo. We don’t smile.
KAREN: Uh, okay. Pose, then. We’re on the red carpet!
JARED: Yay. (Shuffles awkwardly) Hey, you look nice.
KAREN: Thanks. So do you… do you always dress like that?
JARED: Like what?
KAREN: Like a skinny doorman?
JARED: It’s not “doorman.” It’s “emo.” I’m not just an actor, see. I sing for this band called 30 Seconds to Mars.
KAREN: Totally. So, how did you get so skinny?
KAREN: You’re skinnier than me. What the hell is up with that? It makes me look bad. (Thinking) Y’know, my mother is going to call me tonight after she watches the broadcast and tell me to stop eating. Again.
JARED: You might just try some kombucha. Try it every morning. You’ll poop all the time and won’t get the munchies. Seriously. Your legs will be like twigs in two weeks.
KAREN: They’re already twigs. I drink my mother’s dieter’s tea four times a day. It’s disgusting. You really drink that stuff?
JARED: Look at these legs. What do you think?
KAREN: Kombucha it is.
JARED: Have you given up rice?
KAREN: No. I–
JARED: Karen, rice is carbs. Come on now, you know better than that! Try substituting water for rice.
KAREN: But that’s just water!
JARED: Honey. Honey. With a little soy sauce, it’s soy water, not just water! You need to start thinking of the glass half full.
KAREN: What do you mean, glass half full? I thought you were emo…?
JARED: I am emo about other things. But in terms of hunger, I am always half full.
KAREN: You’re confusing me.
JARED: I’m an actor.
KAREN: God help me, somebody please take this picture.
I almost met Hines “Sticky Fingers” Ward last month, a would-be-life-changing visit that was thwarted by his impending knee surgery after the Steelers lost the wild card playoff game against Jacksonville. Had I actually come face-to-face with my super-human, smiling hero, the conversasian might have gone something like this:
HINES: Hey there.
DIANA: I love you.
HINES: What’s that?
DIANA: (loudly) I love you.
HINES: Um. [45-second pause while Diana stares] So, it’s Diana, is it? Did you want me to autograph something, or, er, something? I’m really busy, um, I hafta, um, help out some mixed-race Koreans soon, or…
HINES: [shuffles awkwardly in seat] Hrmm. So it’s been good to meet you, Diana. But listen, I know I’m grinning like a hyena right now as if I’m having a good time, and I am I guess, but I kind of always smile like that… and, basically, I have to go.
DIANA: [erupting like a volcano] YOU CATCH EVERY BALL! YOU CATCH IT! [slobbers]
DIANA: Let’s just take a picture.
HINES: Okay. [grins like a hyena]
If by some other circumstance I would have instead gotten a sit-down with our QB, Ben “I only throw interceptions when it matters most” Roethlisberger, I imagine the conversasian would transpire something more like this:
BEN: Wazzzzzuup, girl?
DIANA: Hello, Ben. I’m honored to meet you, I’m such a big Steelers fan. I cried when we won our last Super Bowl.
DIANA: Yeah. So…
BEN: God, I could really use a beer, or somethin’. Or somethin’!
DIANA: Right. Can I ask you a question? Or a couple of questions?
DIANA: Why the hell would the youngest QB ever to lead their team to win a Super Bowl subsequently drive maniacally on a motorcycle with no helmet, when hundreds of thousands of fans depend on him every week for consistency, hope, and inspirasian?
BEN: Augh, dude, totally.
BEN: That sucked.
DIANA: Throwing interceptions sucks, Ben. Losing to the Jets sucks, Ben. Getting sacked while lumbering around the field trying to find someone to throw to sucks, Ben! Losing as a wild card in the post-season when you have the #1 Defense in the league, sucks, BEN!!!
BEN: Man, I know.
DIANA: [growls, frustrated]
BEN: So… anything else?
DIANA: Yes. One more thing. Why are you currently running off your mouth about wanting A “tall receiver,” laying down tons of backhanded compliments about your teammates that especially make Hines Ward feel like shit? All of this in the midst of you trying to speedily negotiate your new contract?
BEN: Ah dude, I dunno.
DIANA: Hines is a fucking hero. He is your savior. He rises to the task when you need him most– which is often, because when you’re not on the ball you are really fucking OFF the ball, dude.
DIANA: Be a leader! Love thy brother! Don’t sting your brohams with words. Sting the OTHER TEAMS by WINNING. By throwing complete passes. By making the right plays. By running harder and faster. Focus on yourself, don’t go trying to make Hines feel small. He may be compact but he’s an animal on the field. I wouldn’t want to piss that dude off. He’ll just smile you to death and then jump fifteen feet in the air to catch a ball with his pinky.
BEN: You’re right. Maybe I’m just jealous. I’m so big. I used to think that I looked cuddly but sometimes when I’m watching film I feel like I just look fat and clumsy.
DIANA: It’s okay, Ben. Everybody makes mistakes. And you’re not fat. Let’s just work on how you feel about YOU, and take your focus off of everybody else.
BEN: And how I feel about me is… good?
DIANA: Uh huh.
BEN: I feel…GOOD… about ME!
DIANA: [sighs and takes a seat] Okay, I can see this is going to take awhile. But we’ll get there, one day at a time.