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Intern Jasmine’s Links Of The Daysian

September 9th, 2012 | 0 comments | Posted by jasmine

Oh look, it’s just my top two celebrity boyfriends, Kal Penn and John Cho, hanging out and taking calls from the President. [YouTube]

Did you know a white Harvard dropout from the Upper East Side of NYC started one of the first Asian American studies programs in the country? Alexander Saxton, who helped establish UCLA’s Asian American studies program in the 1970s, died last week at the age of 93. [NYT]

Why does Xinhuanet list Heath Ledger as one of their super movie villains of all time using the poster from Brokeback Mountain? [Xinhuanet via Beijing Cream]

Here are some stills and a teaser for Chink, a movie about an Asian American serial killer Continue reading Intern Jasmine’s Links Of The Daysian

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DNC Updasian: It Cannon’t Be, Cannon It?

August 28th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana


Rage Against the Machine staged an anti-war rally that busted (pretty light-heartedly, and not so much ragingly, in my opinion) through downtown Denver late this afternoon. Maybe I didn’t sense too much rage because I saw one female protestor drop her section of a very long butcher paper sign to take a lazy drag out of her cigarette, or maybe because the “NO WAR ON IRAN” sign kept drooping out of sight, I simply can’t be sure. Certainly, when five members of the group started the jazzy a capella singalong: “War? Hunh! What is it good for? (Absolutely nothing),” I felt like joining in–that is, until my friend pointed out: “Well, the economy, kinda.”

Kinda. That’s actually the perfect word. This was “kinda” an awesome anti-war protest at the DNC.

Still, a protest is a protest, and this one got plenty of attention from the black-clad fuzz, who you know have just been WAITING to use a bullhorn or a tazer on somebody–anybody–during this arguably quiet convention week. With their plastic face shields pulled down and their hands resting gently on their nightsticks, the hordes of security folks kept their eyes on the troublemakers, even though the makers never really got themselves into too much trouble.

But here’s the thing. At the very back of the rally, I happened to notice the trail of a rather suspicious-looking armored vehicle:


Gasp!

I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking: IF THAT ISN’T A CRAP CANNON, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

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Thanks, Christie!

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DNC Updasian: In Search of Crap

August 26th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

I spent quite a lot of time yesterday looking for tchotchkes to document my visit to the DNC, and between the McCain flip-flops and Obama plushies, there certainly was a lot of worthless shit!

Today, though, my goal was to get a sighting of the infamous “crap cannon,” a tool that local police apparently have on deck to shoot at protesters (Has tazing already gone out of style? When did that happen?) to stop them in their peace-disturbing tracks.

The crap cannon holds an almost mystical quality out there in the ether. Nobody really seems to know what it looks like, or, for that matter if it truly exists. But I believe it does exist. And I want to see it.

Ergo, in pursuit of the cannon I’ve lingered (perhaps suspiciously) past all of the many, many, many police officers trolling the streets of downtown Denver, eying their fancy accoutrement (which include large, plastic gadgets that look like a hybrid of handcuffs and a twist-tie, as well as those out-of-style tazers, and some unidentified black objects that look they could be crap cannons, but y’know, I just can’t be sure) as they eye me for bombs.

So far, I’ve been too nervous to ask anybody: “Hey, do you have a crap cannon? Can I take a picture of it for my blog?” Even more so after witnessing one of the single most frightening visions I’ve ever seen this afternoon:


Ignore the rad biker; that’s my new pal Brian. But next to the black Camry you’ll see the DNC’s flack jacketed brigade, which travels along the streets on the exterior of a fast-moving SUV–like puppies hanging off a bitch’s teat–all day long.

Holy shitakes!

I’m pretty sure the SUV doesn’t have people inside.

I’m pretty sure that inside is a crap cannon.

THE SEARCH CONTINUES. I’M SCARED BUT WILL NOT REST UNTIL I FIND THAT PIECE OF CRAP CANNON.

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Thanks, Brian!

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Lasian Start

August 26th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

I learned a very important lesson today…


…No hot news anchors show up to the Convention floor before 7am. Bugger!

Thanks, Marc!

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DNC Updasian: Much to Write About Nothing

August 26th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana


A play-by-play (sorta) of Diana’s first day at the DNC:

4:55am: The alarm on the radio clock in Diana’s hotel room rings and does not stop when slammed against the wall. Even after unplugged, the clock burps and sighs for two minutes, all the while sounding not unlike the din of her aunts complaining at a holiday party.

7:45am: Diana wakes up for really real, feeling hung over even though she isn’t, wondering if the altitude makes mornings more horrible in Denver.

8:04: While eating eggs, Diana realizes that during the last Democratic National Convention held in Denver (in 1908), women didn’t even have the right to vote yet. She decides to stop bitching and start thinking about tapping the Rockies vibing with all of the other “conventioneers” (see photo above).

9:30am: Sipping on a coffee and gobbling up free wifi at one of the swanky MySpace cafes, Diana sends about 40 texts to friends saying, “Are you in Denver? Letz hook up yo!”–half hoping that most of the people on the receiving end aren’t actually anywhere near Colorado and will just be jealous.

10:00am: Diana wonders what a “Discobama” is. Even without knowing, she wants one.

10:30am: Jen and Intern Jasmine try to explain mobile Twitter to Diana so that she can send updates from the Denver streets. Diana acts like she understands what they’re talking about, cuz she’s Asian, and Asians hate to admit when they’re confused. She’s confused.

10:58am: Diana gets her first response to the text blast: “Totally. I’ve been here for a week.” No one writes back about being jealous.

11:15am: Diana sits at a table next to Rosa DeLauro, a member of the House of Representatives based out of New Haven, CT (site of Jen’s undergrad educasian and home of the world’s greatest pizza). DeLauro is an author of the Paycheck Fairness Act, makes wonderful eye contact, wears wacky glasses, and reminds Diana of the world’s greatest pizza–she is therefore Diana’s new favorite lady.

12:45pm: Diana checks the DISGRASIAN Twitter page to see if it has magically updated with her thoughts, even though she still really doesn’t understand mobile Twittering. It hasn’t.

1:30pm: Diana speaks on a panel with female mavericks like Faye Wattleton and Marie Wilson, feeling totally not worthy.

2:05pm: Arianna Huffington floats into the room, looking wonderful and smart as always, and Diana senses that every other woman is tacitly buzzing with glee. She talks about how failure inevitably opens doors, which Diana never heard growing up. Diana is confused again. To get her mind off of the confusion, Diana thinks about how Arianna looks like the physical emodiment of cashmere and floral perfume, and has very pretty hair.

2:45pm: Diana and Arianna chat, and Diana talks about how happy DISGRASIAN has been about posting regularly on HuffPo and 23/6. Arianna replies, “I love it! I love it!” and Diana thinks, So do we! So do we!

3:30pm: Diana misses Jen, cuz Jen is far away.

4:00pm: Intern Jasmine sweetly asks Diana if she’s Twittered yet. Diana says yes.

4:10pm: Diana thinks about egging the abortion van (a protest vehicle plastered with photos of mangled fetuses) after it drives by for the 57th time of the day. Not because she doesn’t like fetuses…


4:27pm: Diana receives a text: “Ahh, you’re @ the Convention! Have fun!” and decides she senses a mild hint of jealousy between the lines.

4:45pm: While eating a very bad spicy tuna roll, Diana remembers why she never eats sushi outside of coastal cities.

5:14pm: Diana wonders if the Barack and Hillary plushies being sold on the street were made in China.


5:30pm: A passerby tells Diana that somebody is selling Obama and McCain flip-flops. Diana spends a half hour hunting them down to buy for Jen but fails. She decides that, according to Arianna’s logic, this failure will open doors.

5:45pm: Diana and friend Christie spot a car on the street boasting a McCain sticker. Diana is mildly impressed at the dude’s cojones (he’s outnumbered, y’all!), and then realizes that he’s probably not too afraid of getting jumped by all of the Dems renting bikes and playing with Obama/Hillary plushies at this convention. Still, she continues to refer to him thereafter as “the guy with the balls.”


In order to take a picture of the car without getting jumped by its owner, Diana pretends to pose with a flyer for Dikta, a melodic Icelandic band that the dude with the balls probably isn’t scared of, either.

6:oopm: Diana and Christie manage to run and catch the light rail by a hair! As they jump into the last car with the doors still ajar, Diana thinks: Open doors! This must have been the result of the flip-flop failure!

6:01pm: As the train starts moving, it whips wildly around its first corner. Diana, who is standing in a pretty Marni dress and cashmere cardigan, while daintily holding her laptop and bag in her left arm, is suddenly flung around like a rag doll against the back of the train car. She tumbles back against the railing and thinks she has dislocated her shoulder. Slightly mortified, she laughs hysterically and tries to regain her balance, only for the train to whip around another corner, flinging her down three entry stairs, against the car’s sliding doors, and back against more railing. Diana thinks she may die in the light rail. So much for failure.

Instead, the car stops trying to kill Diana, but leaves her with mild whiplash, a welt on her back, and bruises and scrapes all over her arms.


Diana hates the muthafuckin’ light rail! She is going to punch the bejeezus out of it the next time she sees it! She’ll even get that guy with the balls to help her, if need be.

7:23pm: After eating some queso dip, Diana decides to take a nap.

10:05pm: People finally start texting Diana to see if she plans to hit the party circuit tonight. She lies and says yes about every event, often responding, “See u there!” She even looks at her closet and pretends to pick out something to wear.

10:07pm: Diana sends her first successful mobile Twitter.

10:30pm: Diana blogs.

1:10am: Diana sleeps. Sorta.

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Thanks, Gladys, Christie and Arianna!

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BABEWATCH: Molly Kawahata

August 26th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

Name: Molly Kawahata

Age: 18

Hails from: Palo Alto, CA

Occupation: Student

Why She’s A Babe: Sure, she’s amazian–an incoming freshman at UC Berkeley and, at the age of 18, currently the youngest elected delegate at the DNC (even though “politics doesn’t run in [her] family”)–but she’s also a stunning sweetface. With that pretty skin and cherubic smile, she’s almost too pretty for politics!

…But hey, in such an ugly business, it’s nice to see a little beauty every once in awhile.

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AMAZIAN OF THE WEEK! Superdelegate Crystal Strait

August 25th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen


Name: Crystal Strait

Age: 28

Hails from: Sacramento, CA

Occupation: Deputy Political Director of the California Democratic Party and the Young Democrats of America representative at the DNC

Known for: Being the first Asian-American to represent the YDA at the DNC; being the youngest superdelegate from California; serving two terms as President of the California Young Democrats; disliking the label “superdelegate”; being descended from grandparents who met in a Japanese-American internment camp during WWII; having a bitchin’ country-western star name.

Given that Strait’s bio is cluttered with “firsts,” “youngests,” and “bests,” we can’t think of a better person to reprzent Asian-Americans and young Dems in this country, even if she makes the rest of us look kinda lame by comparison. Do your thang, Miz Crystal!

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LiveBlogging from the Democratic Nasianal Convention

August 25th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana


Hello from Denver!

I’m here at the Democratic National Convention, where the energy, temperature, and constituents are all equally high!

There are folks peddling renewable energy, protesters in trucks decorated with images of half-aborted babies (eek), and lots and lots of freaky hippies decorated in GOODBYE BUSH tees and red, white, and blue buttons. Am I at a meet-and-greet of liberals, or what?

Time to go dig up our pal, Arianna, who is speaking at a function with me (not at the same time) in a couple of hours! Talk to y’all as soon as something fun happens!

Love,
Diana

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