Man: How can you be eating right now? Our monkey just died!
Mouth Full: Listen, Man. I’m going to need my strength if you want me to help you dig the grave in the backyard.
* * *
One of my roommates and I are co-enthusiasts of the French fry. Hence, a beautiful friendship flourished; when both of us are home at the same time, he makes fries and we eat them together. However, one time, we did not:
Famished after having taken a nap, I emerged from my bedroom to seek sustenance. When I arrived at the kitchen, I found my roommate eating the last of the remaining batch of French fries. I gaped at him in horror. Feelings hurt, I uttered, “You made French fries? And ate them without me?” As he is never affected by my dramatic and emotional disposition, he explained, nonchalantly, “Oh, I didn’t think you were home. You always come out from the smell when I’m making them.” Shocked, devastated, and still sleepy, I retreated to my bedroom for I could not bring myself to eat anything else.
* * *
Last month, on my way to New York-New York (Las Vegas Hotel & Casino), I experienced my first love-at-first-sight. The airport security officer and I met when he politely requested that he send my bag through the X-ray machine for an additional scan. Perhaps it was because he caught me in a vulnerable position as I was barefoot at the time, or because I felt special that he picked my bag out of all the other bags to place back onto the conveyor belt, or because I was just hungry, but I was suddenly flushed with tingly dreamy feelings for him. When he returned with my bag, he locked his eyes with mine and informed me that he needed to confiscate my bottle of aloe vera gel, facial moisturizer, facial toner, contacts solution, and a bottle of yogurt smoothie. His arms were wrapped around my toiletries and what was to be my on-the-go lunch. I was no longer feeling tingly; instead, I felt shaky. I was stunned. Oh, how haste affairs of the heart can be. I responded, “Oh, I see.” He expressed his deep apology. “I thought you were going to let me take all my greater than 3.4 ounces of liquid with me,” I said. He said, “It’s not like that. You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to. Hey, is there anyone at the drop off area you could run and give these to?” I could tell he hated seeing me in pain. “No, there isn’t. They’re long gone. I was dropped off an hour ago.” He apologized again, “I’m sorry. I really wish I didn’t have to do this.” I replied, “I know…I must go now.” As I walked away, I could feel him standing there, helplessly watching me go off toward my gate, with the fluorescent lights beaming down on me.
I was so blue that even past security inspection, I was unable to purchase another on-the-go lunch. And on board my flight, I was unable to accept my airline’s complimentary beverage.
nough is enough. Let’s get to the bottom of this blog mission. ‘Where’s Whitney’s soup?’ is really just code for ‘What do we want most out of this life?’ The answer is obvious: world peace. And how do we achieve world peace? We start by tackling the longest-lasting battle to have affected mankind. That battle, ladies and gentlemen, is of the sexes.
I have granted myself permission to use my friends as the subjects of this important study. We must first come to an understanding of the two sexes in order to end this war. (Please note: The quotation results are color-coded by girlfriends and guy friends. The colors were randomly selected.) CASE STUDY #1:
I have just been broken up with. My heart is ripped into two separate pieces.
CASE STUDY #2:
- “Aww, I’m sorry, Whit. There are better guys out there for you.”
- “I bet he thinks you’re too exotic for him.”
- “What? No! He’s an idiot then.”
- "You were probably smothering him."
I’ve gone on a couple of dates with a guy I’m starting to really like. And I can’t tell if he’s as in to me as I am to him.
CASE STUDY #3:
- “Give it more time. I’m sure he’ll call in a few days to ask you on another date.”
- “Drop the pants.”
- “Just be direct and ask him what he thinks.”
- "He's not interested in you."
A guy who recently asked me for my number ass-dialed* me. I got excited when I received the missed call and pending voicemail. But then I quickly became disappointed when I realized it was a mistake. I have not yet received a non-ass-dial call from him.
- “I can’t believe he hasn’t called you! I saw you two together and he was totally showing interest. I don’t get it.”
- “You got traded in.”
- “That doesn’t mean anything. He’ll call.”
- “Dude, every guy wants to bang you.”
Oh, who am I kidding? I want out of this study.
*His phone accidentally called my phone and left a 3 minute voicemail of ambient noise; this typically happens when someone sits on the phone located inside his/her back pants pocket.
I used to work for would often caution me on how cruel the world can be, even to those who work hard and stay true to themselves. This past winter, he and his wife had applied for their 5 year-old son to get into a largely-sought-after private elementary school, but their son was denied acceptance. They were informed at their interview that the school was focusing on increasing racial and ethnic diversity among the students. The rejected 5 year-old was a notably attractive blonde-haired blue-eyed boy. Although I had only seen a couple of photographs of the supposed 5 year-old knock-out and not once thought that to myself, I know for a fact that the son was a notably attractive blonde-haired blue-eyed boy because his father ceaselessly reminded me of the clear injustice that had occurred: “My son is notably attractive; he’s got blonde hair and blue eyes! What's wrong with them?!” I simply sat there and nodded silently in compliance. I thought, maybe if he argues the blonde-haired blue-eyed thing enough times, he’ll recognize the doctrine that that argument is associated with… I was counting on him to be able to figure it out because I knew he majored in history as an undergrad (he had disclosed his love for reading to me on several prior occasions, providing his majoring in history as the indisputable evidence). He never figured it out. But he did eventually stop talking about it when his son got into a different school (that just so happened to be focusing on increasing its blonde-haired blue-eyed demographic).
* * *
When the doctor-lawyer-or-business-executive left work, he would complain to me as he walked out the door, “Time to go to my second job…” He was referring to going back to his 3-owned-apartments-combined-into-one-massive-brownstone where his 2 sons, full-time nanny, and housewife reside, to fulfill his role as a father. I would inquire, ”Didn’t you make them [his children] because you wanted them?” His plea would be, “You don’t understand. Before I had kids, I used to have a social life and play golf all the time. Now, I’m lucky if I get to play golf a dozen times a year.” I’d follow with, “Can't you go golfing more if you take your kids with you?” He’d offer another plea, sighing heavily, “Yeah...but it’s not the same.”
I know I don’t have any of them [children], but I’ve already created a motto to live by: You make them, you spend time with them.
* * *
Classic quote by the doctor-lawyer-or-business-executive: “I’m telling you, having a wife who loves to shop at Bloomingdales really takes a toll on your wallet. I should show you the bill. But you know what I always say, a happy wife leads to a happy life.”
* * *
When I was a super serious music student, I bought myself a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor All Star high top sneakers. I thought that looking the part of a musician would lead me to artistic and musical success because music was the one true thing in my life... That's not true. I was convinced that they would make me look cool. I used to always say, "The Chucks will make me cool. The Chucks will make me cool. The Chucks will make me cool." Turned out I had stage fright that I couldn’t fix so I transferred schools as well as my area of study after a year. And I really couldn’t pull off those sneakers. So I put them away for later, to wear when I became cool. That was 6 years ago. This is what they look like now:
The Chucks will make me cool.
The Chucks will make me cool.
The Chucks will make me cool.
Just so we're clear, I pulled them out to take the pictures. I'm still not cool yet.
* * *
The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life. The right life leads to a happy life...
Full-time blogging is like perpetually being in and out of a coma. Whenever you reengage in lively human contact, your social skills are a bit off.
I went outside this past weekend:
An exceptionally nice, interesting, and good-looking man and I are at a bar enthralled in conversation and my blog gets brought up. Naturally, after we talk more about my blog, he asks me for the website address. And I don’t exactly understand why, what happened afterward, took place; maybe it was due to all the beer I had had. I considered his question to be utterly presumptuous and a complete invasion of privacy so I mumbled, “whitney soup dot com” and walked away. I know he didn’t hear me.
* * *
I spent the rest of my time at that bar talking smack about the female bartender. Her hoop earrings really got to me. But hunger struck so I bought a calzone and shared it with her. My smack talking got to me too; I felt guilty.
* * *
At a house party, a dude walked in on me while I was peeing in the bathroom. Essentially, all he saw was me sitting down with my shorts at my knees. But, he happened to be a part of The Humblest Men Organization and I happen to enjoy reacting as if I were an easily offended prudish old woman. And, thus, the story goes like this: He accidentally opens the door, I scream “MY, GOD!,” he instantly shuts the door, I have a laughing fit while still on the toilet because I frankly couldn’t care less about being walked in on while peeing yet I got to make him feel immense shame, I finally finish my bathroom business, I whip open the door, and I lean against the doorframe, pompously grinning, as if I had just gotten laid in an airplane bathroom (having sex in an airplane bathroom without a doubt deserves a pat on the back; sex in a regular bathroom is not classy). He runs up to me, apologizing and literally bowing over and over, I explain that I was totally joking before and that I don’t care about what happened, my girlfriend points and laughs at him throughout the night (she’s got a great sense of humor), he carries on with apologizing and bowing, and I wind up having to continuously console him for having walked in on me in the bathroom.
* * *
Other than stepping out once to purchase a grande cappuccino and orange juice fortified with calcium and vitamin D, I have stayed inside since.
Just discovered your blog, funny stuff. But I think it's strange that you lambasted a friend in a previous blog
post for "knowing she's thin" then proceeded to draw attention to your own thinness here: "I'm relatively thin".
Neither statement seems particularly heinous to me but as the owner of a blog dedicated to criticizing others, isn't it your duty not to repeat the same actions you ridicule?
People in glass pots shouldn't throw kettles, Ms. Soup.
* * *
Dear Mr. or Ms. Funny,
Pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Your comment left me with many thoughts.
- Lambaste is a marvelous word. Kudos to you!
- Uh…I never said I was dedicated to anything. I wouldn't ever do that. And truth be told, I’m a little hurt by your assumption.
- You said doodie! hehehe
- I’ll stop drawing attention to my thinness when I no longer look like this:
Technically, this isn’t a photograph of me. But Lucy Liu is Chinese-American, as am I, so it works out since all Asians look alike.
One more time for the cheap seats in the back: I ’ M R E L A T I V E L Y T H I N !!!
You may continue to call me Ms. Soup.
All my conditional love,
P.S. This is the first letter I’ve ever written (in case you’re wondering why my letter format looks funny [not looks like you, Funny, but funny like peculiar]).
“Everyone knows the only thing we should be ashamed of is our bodies.”
- Kenneth “Kenneth The Page” Ellen Parcell
if only a real-life manchild were as adorable
hate to toot my own horn, but my dating experience has taught me that I’m what guys consider to be eye candy.
- “Wow, you eat so much but you’re still so skinny.”
- “I can’t imagine anyone being smaller than you.”
Said to me by different guys. Both times I promptly changed the subject. What was going through my head at the time:
Oh good, you’re aware of the stereotype that all women are highly insecure
about their body and will develop an eating disorder if they don’t receive
reassurance from men.
Come on. Did you really just say that? You can’t imagine anyone
smaller than I
Let me fill in the holes: My “skinniness” and “small size” are an illusion. I’m relatively thin and I’m Asian-American. Thinness + Asian genes + living in obese America = illusion of tininess. Which inadvertently leads to bullshit compliments from guys.
There’s another illusion equation involving the variables, thinness and Asian. Thinness + Asian genes = should in fact be tiny. Guys who live by this equation pay me slightly different compliments.
- “You should go to the gym. I’m not saying you need to lose weight. Just go to tone up. And you don’t have to go every day, but you should go like every other day.”
- “You’re kind of fat!”
(after a guy put his arm around my waist and squeezed it)
- “You’re heavy for an Asian!”
(after a different guy carried me over to a sofa chair)
What was going through my head at the time:
By the way, all of these “compliments” were unsolicited; meaning, I promise you I don’t ever direct conversations to be about my body. It’s a sore subject for women, after all.
can’t stand it when people cry. I always find it so melodramatic when someone’s releasing genuine tears in public (i.e., not in the privacy of underneath your own covers in your own bedroom with the door shut). It’s like, hello!? Crying never gets you anywhere. And I would know, I’m a frequent crier
. But I can’t help it when it happens; I was born this way. Truly, my baby, toddler, and childhood nickname was Crybaby*2
. As such, I’m able to detect when crying is chronic (like mine) or purely emotional (which is highly inappropriate).
(a lot of tears)
Allow me to explain further: the emotional kind is used by the selfish with the intention of making you feel bad for them because they’re undergoing a momentary feeling of sadness. Sooner or later though, the sad feeling goes away, rendering the crying a waste of time for both the crier and the involuntary witness(es). Chronic crying, on the other hand, is the residual effect of hormonal imbalance, low levels of maturity, proneness to irritability, and not getting enough sleep (I find that when I don’t get a full 10 hours of sleep a night, I am more likely to engage in chronic crying during the day). Not to mention, when it happens, I’m considerate enough to cover my face or turn away in shame. I at least make an attempt to hide that stuff. The emotional criers will look you right in the eye while they’re doing it! Then their crying suddenly stops and they probably don’t do it again for months.
Unlike them, I don’t just cry because I’m sad and want attention and expect people to care. I cry for a ton of reasons and I know no one cares. I'm not looking for attention - I just do it.
*1 a person or animal that cries
In Cantonese, it’s pronounced ‘haam bao.’
(This is what real Chinese people look like.)
’m related to a lot of Chinese people and these are some of the things I’m privy to:
- “Son, don’t wave with your egg roll.”
My 8 year-old cousin usually needs to be told by his parents to say goodbye to relatives who are saying goodbye to him instead of ignoring them. That time, he half-assed his goodbye by waving and not speaking because he was distracted from eating an egg roll. The above-quoted line is the result of such incidence.
- “Why don’t you wear your Doctor Martens today?”
My aunt said that to her husband. Don’t worry, I made sure I laughed at her and had her repeat after me, “Doc Martens” several times.
- “Whitney’s soup 8/9/2011”
The day I came across this Post-it note, I developed a fear bigger than my fear of dogs (it’s called cynophobia* and it is very real). It appeared as though Whitney’s soup had been found and, therefore, my blogging purpose was no longer valid. I mean, I started my blog mission on July 2nd – a blog that only lasts 5 weeks? That’s unheard of. Once a blog has begun, it’s meant to last for ages. Surely, I was in disbelief.
I dealt with this newfound anxiety the same way I deal with all my anxiety issues: I emailed/texted a picture of the note to all my friends (another fear I have is that I die without my friends knowing every detail of my day-to-day life [which stems from my other fear of dying, suddenly, at any given moment, as opposed to when I’m averaged to at age 81.58
or from an actual cause of death]) with the subject, “No Joke,” and then panicked, held my breath, eventually breathed out, eventually breathed in, eventually breathed in and out repeatedly, and then before I knew it, it was time for bed. Long story short: Someone pissed me off the next day, giving me something to write about.
My blog still serves a purpose.
* * *
Because I “don’t eat meat,” one of my relatives left this note next to a bowl of soup for me to distinguish from other soup I may come across. Because I “don’t eat meat,” at Thanksgiving, these above-mentioned Chinese people have me sit at “the kids table,” or what is really, “the discriminated table,” which consists of the 2 kids and the anorexic. The note helps remind me that I am distinguished, as I “don’t eat meat.”
I don’t know why the note is dated. Must be a Chinese thing.
*The American Board of Neuro Linguistic Programming defines cynophobia as an anxiety disorder in which one becomes irrationally nervous and uneasy regardless of whether or not the dog presents a legitimate threat.
y internet was down earlier today. And for some unexplainable reason, I deduced that Verizon was the one to blame. So, as you would expect of any take-action-type person in this position, I called Verizon’s complaint center to let them know that, as the Founder, Leader, Editor in Chief, and Licensed Blogger of an online business, I cannot, and repeat, loudly, I CANNOT, have a broken internet – ever!
* * *
I do not believe I learn something new every day, but I indubitably learned something this precise day. In fact, I learned 2 things today. Evidently, my internet provider is Comcast and has been for quite some time now. Also, Verizon employees currently have a heftier work load than usual because they have been on strike all week.
Now is not a good time to yell at anyone who works for Verizon, especially if you’re not one of their customers.
On-The-Right-Track: They say you can tell what someone is like in bed by what their resume is like.
Regular Person: No, that’s dancing. You can tell what someone is like in bed by how they dance.
On-The-Right-Track: So I need to have dancing on my resume to increase my chances of getting a girl in bed with me?
Regular Person: Sure...that’s what they say.
On-The-Right-Track: Well then! I’ll add that to my OkCupid profile too.
Regular Person: Oh, you’re on OkCupid? How’s that working for you?
On-The-Right-Track: To my surprise, not excellently.
Regular Person: You don’t say.
25 / M / Straight / Single
When I was a little boy, I wanted to grow up to become a doctor, a lawyer, or a
business executive.What I’m doing with my life
I’m a lawyer and a business executive. I’m really good at
Correcting people whenever they mispronounce words, pay too much or too little of their share of a dinner check, or have the wrong life goals.The first things people usually notice about me
My eyeglasses. You’d have to notice them before anything else since they’re sitting right there on my nose.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
A Tale of Two Cities, Moby-Dick, Citizen Kane, The Godfather, CNN, The History Channel, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Sushi, IndianThe six things I could never do without
floss, craft beer, ESPN, good credit score, health insurance, letters of recommendation I spend a lot of time thinking about
How I am educating others.On a typical Friday night I am
Enjoying all that nightlife has to offer – the theatre, fine dining, alcoholic beverage establishments, comedic performance venues.The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I’m not going to lie - I’m a sucker for Guitar Hero!You should message me if
You would like to go out with me. This is an online dating service, is it not?