You are currently browsing posts tagged with Hardass Asian Families

Thank You For Being Our Friends

November 25th, 2010 | 11 comments | Posted by Diana



There’s the kind of gratitude that takes awhile to set in: “Hardass Asian Family, thank you so much for decades of judging me harshly, undercutting my achievements, and scoffing at my pursuit of the liberal arts so that one day, my friend and I might bond over such upbringings, commiserate loudly, and start a pale yellow website barking about shit.”

But some thankfulness takes no time to realize. And when it comes to you, dear friends and readers, please know that we appreciate you every single day. Thank you for your eyeballs. Thank you also for the endless support, tech help, injections of energy, tips, comments, tweets, retweets, Diggs, shares, stories, tears, empathy, hookups, handouts, action items, fightin’ words, witty epiphanies, challenging questions, care packages, moments of clarity, rad tunes, cute tees, utter brilliance, complete excellence, and total awesomeness.

WE ARE SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU ALL! HAPPY THANKSGIVING, DISGRASIAN NATION.

xoxo
Diana and Jen

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And thanks for another great year, Jasmine!

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Understanding Lisette Lee, The Week’s Most Fascinating Drug Mule

June 17th, 2010 | 8 comments | Posted by Diana

A 28-year-old California woman named Lisette Lee was busted by the feds after her chartered plane from LA landed in Columbus, Ohio this week–with over 13 suitcases of marijuana on it.

Should she be convicted, Lee could see 40 years in prison and up to $2 million in fines.

News organizations and expert sleuths like Gawker are already having a bonanza as they dig up everything relevant (and irrelevant, but wonderfully ridiculous) there is to know about this mysterious woman, who amazingly was able to keep her fake eyelashes on throughout her arrest and night in the clink, and might have more identities than Britney.

Highlights of what we currently know about Lee:

  • potentially an actress/model/recording artist/whatever (Ed. note–that might just be a reeeeeally bad mugshot)
  • was arrested with 3 cell phones, blow, weed, and drug deal ledgers in her bag
  • claims to be an heiress related to Samsung’s “Lee” family of Korea; they deny the relationship (although this is by no means an ironclad denial. It’s no secret that Hardass Asian Families will disavow you for like, failing a test. My HAPs would deny knowing me if I got a ticket for rolling past a stop sign.)
  • loooooooves eyeliner. Like LOOOOOOOOVES it.
  • seems all kinds of crazy (warranting comparisons to Tila Tequila)
  • seems to have a gift for embellishment (warranting comparisons to the Hipster Grifter)
  • has also been named in event photographs with the surname Morita (unnecessarily dragging Pat’s name into this mess)
  • apparently has a boyfriend in Columbus that she can’t or won’t name
  • organized this fourth drug run to Columbus for a “friend” who doled out $60k per trip (that’s the total budget for all other players involved, by the way, not her personal fee)
  • apparently willing to break federal law for measly tens of thousands, not realizing that a nice managerial job at Starbucks would have also provided her with benefits
  • currently sitting in jail awaiting a bond hearing that will take place tomorrow at 10am. It was postponed from today to allow Lee’s family time to travel to Columbus (this will NOT be pretty)

Sooooo much information! But I’ve still got one really, really important question: Where the fuzz is that 506 lbs. of ganj going?

[via Gawker]
[AP: Feds - Woman Took 506 Pounds Of Pot To Ohio On Jet]

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Thanks, Jasmine!

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Why Throw Your Money Awaysian?

April 9th, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen

Sprint recently unveiled a new ad campaign, “Why Throw Your Money Away?” that targets the recession-consumer. Take a look at this TV spot, featuring an Asian family:

Well, Sprint got one thing right. It’s totally conceivable that the white families would stop, stare, and be baffled by the one Asian family-in-the-neighborhood’s inscrutable ways (How come the dad never smiles? Why is he gardening in a sweater vest? Why does he sometimes garden in sandals? How come the mom never speaks and runs quickly inside the house when we say hello to her? Why is the daughter always doing chores and practicing the piano badly instead of having slumber parties? etc.).

But an Asian family throwing, or, in this case, blowing money away (and not at a gambling table)?! Never!

Thanks, Beth!

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Finally! More-o of Maya Soetoro-Ng!

April 2nd, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

JEN! JEN! OMG, JEN!


Do you think Dr. Maya Soetoro-Ng reads DISGRASIAN? Did she happen upon your quiet pleas that she channel her beautiful prose into a tome?

Because Politico just leaked the news that the babe just signed a book deal with Candlewick Press. And even the concept is gorgeous:

‘Ladder to the Moon’, Maya Soetoro-Ng’s first book, is inspired by Maya and Barack’s mother as well as by Maya’s four-year-old daughter. What lessons, the author wonders, might her daughter have learned from her grandmother had the two ever met? In ‘Ladder to the Moon,’ Maya Soetoro-Ng pays homage to her mother’s tradition of storytelling — and celebrates her mother’s enduring legacy of service — with an unforgettable story of love and compassion being passed along generations. Brimming with the beauty and magic of the night, Ladder to the Moon is a modern-day fable that will charm readers of any generation with its lush prose and timeless message about discovering one’s own strength. Illustrator and publication date are to be determined.

While–as the product of a fairly stoic, left-brained, Hardass Asian Family– I don’t quite understand how one can be inspired by their relations towards such gentle images of ancestry and beauty, I certainly do appreciate it.

Freakin’ fly me to the Moon, Jen! Can we get on some pre-order action?? Where is this book!!?!?

Lates!
D

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Thanks, Catherine!

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Auntie?

September 17th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana


WHAT THE F*CK??

Why in God’s name is my oldest, crankiest, meanest aunt stumping for McCain and Palin?? Is she even registered to vote? Also, I’ve only seen her wear cotton–where did she get this wooly mock turtleneck?

Jeezus, I’m related to another REPUBLICAN?? How did this happen?

So many questions. SO many questions.

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Softass American Parenting

June 2nd, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

I have two older male cousins that grew up in the suburbs–okay, back woods–of Indiana during the early eighties. Their mom was like a military sergeant–she filled their days with a very specific and lengthy hygiene regimen, hours of rote memorization, and what felt like immersion music lessons. There were no birthday parties or after-school hangouts with friends (who needs friends?) or riding bikes on Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Saturdays. When eating, they couldn’t have a sip of Pepsi without finishing an entire 1-gallon bowl of soup, even if it took hours–but you better believe the sweltering drink was taunting them from about six inches away the entire time. Sound fun? You betcha.

The worst was when either of the boys did something bad, which was rare. They’d be punished with such severity that few of us rarely even confirmed the details. Groundings could last months (years?), and public shaming was common. When one of my cousins spent half of a day holding a heavy ceramic bowl over his head, while bent on his knees, on gravelly yard, we all wondered aloud if there wasn’t just a little guerrilla in every Vietnamese uncle.

I know what you’re thinking– Diana’s family sounds creepy and batshit crazy! ME TOO! I’ve believed for years that the punishers on my mom’s side of genealogy chart have some kind of chart-topping sadistic hormone levels that make no sense to normal humans. Still, they set the bar very high–there must be some reason why I laugh every time I see a kid in Brentwood get in trouble (“Caleb, if you don’t stop screaming bloody murder after three minutes, Mommy is not going to by you a Wii! Caleb, do you want to sit in the Benz alone, with the nanny, while Mommy and Daddy finish their wedge salads? Fine. Then take this cashmere blanket with you because it’s cold”), right?


All I know is that nobody with my blood would have dealt with two dozen teenage barbarians that trashed Robert Frost’s historic home (see some of the damage in the photo above) with a raging keg party over Christmas…by having them to take a class in his poetry.

Oh yeah, that’ll teach ‘em.

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What’s Your Damage, Rivers?

April 22nd, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

I once spent the better part of two years–during the furious shift out of my late teens–working through an epic collection of poetry. It spanned early observations of the incremental breakdown of my mother’s side of the family to the detritus of my first love, from guilt about sex to a love affair with drunken sunrises. Needless to say, it was a pile of self-indulgent shit, but it was my shit, sincere shit from my young heart and achy-breaky-burning soul.

I had the entire thing enclosed in a romantically battered leather file folder, which tied closed with a leather string and made the documents inside feel precious and ancient. My older sister stumbled upon it one day and asked if she could see what was inside, to which I acquiesced, half-hoping that she would be so moved that she would cry all over the leather file (adding even more salt-water character to its mahogany-colored exterior). I was exposing my insides; but in the presentational, on-paper way, my private thoughts for public display. I wanted her to tell me that the volume should be published, that I belonged in the Canon of writers, that my young age truly belied my incredible wisdom and cadence.

My sister scanned through three or four pieces and then smiled, saying, “They’re really good, Di. I like the one about the tree, you used really charming words. I don’t know if Mom would want to read that one about her sisters, though.” Then she closed the whole thing up and handed it back to me–a girl seething both with disappointment and rage. I threw my leather file in a drawer and didn’t find it again until last year, when I moved and was forced to rifle through 35 boxes of storage. And whenever she asked to read my writing after that day, I would only send her graded essays from college or my weekly music column, so that when she called them “good” I wouldn’t care one way or the other.

I guess, in some way, I can identify with what I call Rivers Cuomo’s interminable disappointment, a cloud that landed over him after he vomited up his deepest, darkest secrets and set them to cacophonous pop for his band Weezer’s 1996 sophomore effort, Pinkerton. Even though critics by and large found the album brilliant, the rest of the world was like, “Dude, this shit about asian chicks doesn’t sound anything like ‘Buddy Holly’” and refused to buy. Instead of giving everyone the finger and recording more weird Cuomo brianarrhea after that, he simply recoiled, spending years as a crazy hermit with a dark soul. It really didn’t seem like he would ever write again, how could he? He was probably too old to dream up surf hits, and no one dug his love of Madame Butterfly.

But Rivers did emerge in 2001, this time with a big fuck-you finger that came in the shape of this:

“You liked my blue album? Well, then: second verse, same as the first.”

Anyone that ever sat through a verse of his idiotic stoner anthem “Hash Pipe” could read between the lines: Rivers was in full rage mode. If we didn’t like his diaries, he was gonna give us what we liked. Skateboards. Weed. Cheeky hooks. Power chords. Rock on!

And it worked. People gobbled it up. So he did it again. And again. Fuck you guys, I’m gonna make more lame jock rock. Fuck you all!!! Cuomo is angry!

And it looks like, over 12 years after The Pinkerton Incident, he wants to do it yet again:

“Get it? The Red Album! Get it??”

And quite frankly, I’ve had it. And so now I need to speak directly to the guy.

Note to Rivers Cuomo:
RIVERS, I UNDERSTAND YOUR RAGE. NOBODY WANTS THEIR INNERMOSTS POO-POO’D ON. BUT DUDE, WE’VE ALL (ESPECIALLY THOSE OF US WITH HARDASS ASIAN FAMILIES) BEEN THROUGH IT, AND EVENTUALLY WE ALL JUST HAD TO REALIZE THAT NOT EVERYONE IS GOING TO UNDERSTAND EVERY PART OF US, AND WE CAN’T JUST GO AROUND PUNISHING THE WORLD TO MAKE OURSELVES FEEL BETTER. SOMEBODY DOES LOVE YOU–THAT SWEET LITTLE JAPANESE (SURPRISE) GIRL THAT YOU MARRIED A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO–SO LET HER BE THE ONE TO “GET” THE COMPLEX BLARGHITY-FOO OF YOUR BRAIN AND STOP HAMMERING AT US WITH THESE STUPID, SEMI-IRONIC, TERRIBLY-TUNED, FUCK ALL Y’ALL RECORDS. I CAN’T HANDLE IT ANYMORE. IT’S BEEN OVER A DECADE. GET A THERAPIST. OR AS MY FORMER INTERN USED TO TYPE IN EMAILS, “THERAPITS.”

Anyway, later.
Diana

P.S. Ew, you’re such an icky Asiaphile which is still just such a bummer. Don’t tell me that’s an unfair accusation!! I didn’t come up with the concept for the El Scorcho EP cover, did I?

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Third place? Ya mean, "First Loser to the First Loser?"

January 29th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

Dear Mr. Giuliani,

What’s happening? I know you’re very busy hanging out in Florida right now, but I wanted to drop you a line and show a little moral support tonight, on what truly might be one of the most lackluster and disappointing nights of your political career.

I’m gonna give you a little advice. When I was in high school, I became a competitive long-distance runner. Not a great one, not even really a good one. I was already good at lots of things– long jumping, spelling, speaking, whatever, but not running.

I once made the mistake of inviting some family members to a track meet to see me compete; I thought the cheering would give me endurance. Instead, as I huffed and puffed my way towards two six-minute miles, I found myself making the eight loops around the track to the tune of my hulkish older cousin Michael’s booming voice. He would heckle me each time I lunged for the straightaway: “GO FASTER!!! YOU’RE LOSING!!!”

At that point I vowed never again to invite family members to an event I wasn’t going to win.

See, this is kind of where you’ve gone wrong. Not only have you put all your nominasian-seeking eggs in one gross, balmy, Floridian basket–you guaranteed a win in tonight’s primary and told the entire free world to watch!! Are you some kind of masochist? What do you think your mother thought when she read this [sub-]headline??

Here, I’ll tell you what my grandma thought: “(clucking tongue)Ayy-ya, Giu-yani so shame, he not even first loser. He COMPETE to be second loser!”

Then again, I’m pretty sure my grandma would spit on a bronze medal. But there you go.

Save a little face, Rudes. Maybe it’s time to call it a day.

Hugs,
Diana

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