You are currently browsing posts tagged with Tough Love
I got my mom a nice flower arrangement for Mother’s Day this year, but I didn’t get it together until the last minute, so I paid through the nose for it. I didn’t FTD that shit either–not that I’m judging if you did–because, to me, their arrangements all look like hospital flowers. (Also, I am stupid and like doing things the hard way.) So I found a florist in a fancy schmancy part of Houston who 1) actually picked up the phone late Saturday and 2) would deliver to where my parents live in the middle of nowhere. I also specified that peonies be in the arrangement, because roses are so boring. The delivery to BFN was almost half the cost of the arrangement, and they charged me extra for the peonies, because non-boring flowers don’t come cheap, apparently. Like I said, I like doing things the hard way.
But who cares? It was Mother’s Day. And I love my mama, and she loves flowers.
And sure enough, when she received them, she immediately sent me an email to let me know how much she liked them. The subject heading was “Flower of Love” (cue the Huey Lewis song if you’re old like me):
She got them on time! And they were beautiful! And I was thrilled that my mother could feel loved and celebrated without a worry in the world on her special day, which is how all mothers should feel on Mother’s Day.
But clearly, I underestimated my Hardass Asian Mom. Here’s what followed in her email:
Filed under: Asians Love Discounts, Gift Giving, Gift ideas, Hardass Asian Mamas, Hardass Asian Moms, Hardass Asian Mother's Day, Hardass Asian Mothers, Hardass Asian Parents, Holidays, Mother's Day, Mother's Day Gifts, Sending Flowers, Tiger Mother's Day, Tough Love
Hey lady! ‘Memba me? I’ve written you before. Perhaps my blog post/letter got lost in the cyberether/mailroom? No matter. The gist of what I said then hasn’t changed.
Today, I heard that you really want to do Charlie’s Angels 3. You were quoted as saying:
“I do (see Diaz and Barrymore). All the time. I’d love to do another Charlie’s Angels film. That would be so much fun.”
I couldn’t help thinking that the subtext/translasian of that was:
“Are you there, Cam? Drew? It’s me, Lucy. My show got canceled. I’m staring down the barrel of 40. Yes, there’s a gun in my mouth. “
We know we’re hard on you. You’ve been the object of our haterasian countless times, but, really, it’s cuz we love you. We actually love your freckles, those slightly-crossed eyes, that midgety body. Yeah, we’re fucked up like that. But you see, Luce, you’re our Obi-Wan. You’re our only hope. When people think “Asian actress” and “movies,” there’s–like that Yaz song–only you. It’s kinda unfair to have those gigantic expectations heaped on your teensy shoulders but, then again, you’re Asian and expectations are your little bitch. And, as my Hardass Asian Mother would say when whiny shit comes out of my mouth like “I don’t think I can handle it”: Handelit! Handelit!
So, please, for the love of your people, MAKE A GOOD MOVIE. I’m not really buying that your problem is that age-old issue of “Asian actors can’t get good roles in Hollywood” blah blah blah. Like I said before, go small. Do an indie. Self-finance if you have to. Fuck Angels, yo, why not do a Monster? Or a Monster’s Ball? Ditch the makeup and heels. Stop playing characters with their shit together–hard as that may be for an overachiever like yourself. Learn how to cry copiously on cue. Be weak. Take a role that requires you to wear at all times a sad, ugly, old, nubby, clawed-up sweater, the kind that is not made of 24-ply cashmere. I’m going to put one on now, in fact, though it’s the middle of summer, because having this conversasian again kinda depresses the hell outta me.
with tough but tired love,
Normally, Diana and I are above disgracing children. Child prodigies, in particular, because, first of all, we love a prodigy and wish we had been one ourselves, and second, it’s clear that they already have enough pressure in their lives, especially if you throw in a Hardass Asian Parent or two. But Michelle Wie is three months shy of 18, so we’ve decided to try her ass as an adult.
Kidding! We’re not totally heartless. But, in light of recent events, we feel that what Michelle really needs is some big sisterly tough-love.
You’re talented, smart, and gorgeous. If we were the same age, or in the same town, or chugging beers at the same Stanford keg party, I would hate you. Daggers would be shooting from my slanty eyes in your lofty direction. Thank goodness I’m four years older than you. Okay, maybe a little older. Alright, a lot–but I digress.
Last weekend, when you pulled out of the U.S. Women’s Open after sucking all over the green, citing a wrist injury, the media was not so kind. Here’s a glimpse of some of the headlines I read after your withdrawal:
“Wie and Adu: Has-beens before their prime?”
“Wie’s woes: the year from hell”
“Do they learn nothing from sad decline of Wie?”
“What Is Michelle Wie Doing Out There?”
Ouchers. Why is everyone so pissed at you, you wonder? Allow me to introduce a timeline.
2002-2004 – You become the youngest player to qualify for an LPGA event, the youngest player to make the cut at an LPGA event, and the youngest player to play in a PGA event with the big boys. Ah, first love.
2005 – Is a banner year. You turn pro, place second at the LPGA Championship, and Nike throws millions at you. Life is, like, so rad!
2006 – In July, you play with the boys in the PGA John Deere Classic, but withdraw after the 9th hole, citing heat exhaustion. But was it the heat that got to you, or the fact that you weren’t going to make the cut? Either you were really dehydrated or a really huge drama queen, but you’re taken off the course on a stretcher.
But who cares about all that golf nonsense when Forbes ranks you 74th out of 100 Top Celebutards, and your earnings reach $17 mil, one milsky for each year of your young life?
2007 – You take four months off because of wrist injuries. Is this from too much texting, perhaps? Or too much time counting your millions? You return from rehabbing to play in the LPGA’s Ginn Tribute, a tournament hosted by Annika Sorenstam. But then you suck all over the place, shooting 14 over-par through 16 holes, and withdraw, saying you “tweaked” your wrist again. You’re seen practicing, however, two days later, prompting Annika to say that your withdrawal showed “a lack of class.” You refuse to apologize.
Um, Bad Idea Jeans.
For the U.S. Women’s Open, the second tournament you play in since the Sorenstam debacle, a 12 year-old upstart named Alexis Thompson qualifies.
While you withdraw from the tournament because of your wrists, 8 Korean golfers make it to the top 10 of the tourney. “Seoul Sister” Angela Park places second, and, in action, kind of looks like…
Sports writers declare that you are over at 17, and, worse, that they’re “rooting against” you.
Here’s where DISGRASIAN’s big sisterly advice comes in. Take the summer off and build up those wrists again. Do not go to events unrelated to golf–focusing on your looks instead of your game is a career killer (just ask Anna Kournikova).
Go to Stanford. Rush a sorority or something (I can’t believe I just wrote that). Drink too much Hitachino White Ale or, um, whatever the young ones are drinking these days. Instead of competing with boys, make out with a few. Girls, too. There’s nothing quite like a lesbian lip-lock to defuse a bitchfight. Practice your ass off when no one’s looking.
wishing you love, flowers, and birdies,
Jen and Diana