OakMonster’s Den

It’s funny to see absolutely zero reactions from the teenagers in front of us in the theater when Indiana Jones said, “I like Ike,” to Irina Spalko’s little speech about him joining the Russian’s quest.

I don’t think they got it. Nor did they get the whole Russian bad guys thing.

Ah. Life imitates art imitates life. Indiana Jones is dealing with aging and so were the elders in the audience who remember seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time in theater.

Or, in my case, being so traumatized by Temple of Doom (The monkey brains! The heart! The lava!) I didn’t even dare watch it again until college.

I went to see Indy with zero expectation other than to be thoroughly entertained. And I was.

I have been missing Indy, and even at this age, Harrison Ford still did pretty good. The movie was A LOT OF FUN.

Just don’t go in expecting to see an Oscar nominee or Raiders of the Lost Ark II, because it’s just not what this is.

Oh and there is no special little bit at the end of the credits like Iron Man so feel free to walk out when the screen goes dark.

Now, spoiler ridden review awaits after the jump.

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Sunday was all of about the boys.

Starting with this heartbreaker.

J.C. and Joshua are in town for the week.  I stole a few hours of their time to hang out with mom and kid.  I also provided my photography service by helping J.C. take some pictures of the little speedster and capture some videos for his dad.

Erick is a medical student with the military.  Instead of going through different departments in the same hospital for rotation, he is currently on rotation in different military medical centers all over the country.  He hasn’t seen Josh in a while, so I thought it would be nice to get him a few movie clips.

I also learned Josh language and taught him a few new things.  Josh was showing me his books and one of them have animals pictures with texture of their skins to go with it.  We made animal noises as we went along.  A cow print texture. Moo!  A fluffy cat. Mow-my! (That’s his meow.)  A fuzzy ducky.  Ack! (That’s a quack.)

“Now, Joshua.  What sounds does a …” Then I flipped to the next page.

Oh.  Crap.

“…gorilla make?”

I looked up at J.C.  She looked at me.  I looked at Josh who was looking to me for an answer.

“Um.  We’ll come back to that page.  Let’s see what’s next.”

Stumped by a children’s book.  I wonder how many parents faced such dilemma.

I did come back to the book later on and teach Josh to beat on his chest and go “Rawrrr” as the sound of the gorilla.  Close enough.

Josh also showed me where his and Mommy’s and my toes are.  Our fingers. Our belly buttons.  Our cheeks.  Our ears.  As we thought we were done, Josh walked over to J.C. and put his little hand on her chest.  We thought he needed to steady himself.

But then, he turned right over to me and put his hand on my boob too.

Ladies man in the making.  Seriously.
Later that afternoon, I went with Brandon and our Erik to Sports Chalet.  Erik needed to get his bike fixed and I needed a pair of roller skates.  Yes, kids.  I picked up the classic 4-wheel white boots roller skates.  With pink wheels.  My parking lot is big enough, and I can roll with Brandon on the bike sometimes.

Then we had dinner and saw Indiana Jones.  (You’ll have my full review soon.)  We discussed the movie and the franchise on the way home, mainly about the “magical items” of each of the movies.

“Except for Temple of Doom, they were all biblical, weren’t they, the artifacts?” said Erik.  “The Ark of the Covenant.  The Goblet of Truth.”

A moment of silent in the car.

“If by the Goblet of Truth, you meant the Holy Grail, then yes.” Brandon uttered.

Somebody is confusing his Christian mythology with Harry Potter’s 4th installment.

Continuing of me spending my weekend with the boys, Brandon and I vegged and watched the last DVD of Robin Hood, BBC series, Season 1.  I am also along for the ride as Brandon plays Dark Sector.  You’d be a amaze how a fresh pair of eyes could get you out of a maze/mission you couldn’t beat the first time around. 

I hope everyone is having as much of a great weekend as I am!

In “Day After Tomorrow”, a massive tornado ripped through Los Angeles.

Yesterday, a baby one touched down in Riverside.

Miraculously, nobody got hurt.

If you look at my Twitter history there, you’ll see my weather report from atop the 34th floor of Downtown Los Angeles.

After the week of heat, we were cooling down again.  And then suddenly, yesterday, rain clouds came out of nowhere and the rain poured for a good 10-15 minutes.  As in, sheets and sheets of it.  Looking out the north side of the building, it looked like snow.

Then it was sunny again.

Then it started to sprinkle and mist with the sun still out…but just on the northwest corner of the building.  I saw the sun was out so I was going over to the east side to spot a rainbow.  It was all sunny and dry on the other side.  Not even a trace of a mist.

But outside of the north east window, the super dark clouds loomed in the distance.

A few of us were thinking it, but didn’t say it.   With all of this weirdness in the weather, if the Big One hit, we wouldn’t be surprise.  Instead, we joked out loud about brimstones would be next to fall from the sky and that the Four Horsemen are on their way in from Riverside, but got stuck on the freeway.

I had a horrible time carpooling in to work with a bus buddy lady, and even worse when my colleague drove me home.

Completely wiped when I got home, I forewent making a batch of Absolutely Weevils cookies, and settled in on the couch for some pizza and my jug of cranberry juice.

And here we are again, back in the weird weather central, waiting for some light shows of promised thunderstorm and rain.

It’s too scary outside, y’all.

A row of what I think are jasmine bushes underneath our bedroom window have bloomed for the past few weeks. I didn’t know the neighbor apartment has such plant. I mean, I haven’t smelled it since we moved in, I don’t think.

The first time I caught a whiff of this season’s bloom though, I thought to myself…

“Mom’s visiting.”

It didn’t help that the first time, I was the only one who caught the scent. Brandon was a bit too far away from the window to smell anything.

You see, one of mom’s favorite flowers are what Thai people call “Dok Kaew” ดอกแก้ว. That’s scientifically Murraya paniculata and in Hawaii it’s known as mock orange.  Mock orange is no jasmine, but it looks and smells pretty close.

We have a tree growing on the edge of our property in Bangkok, on the way out the gate. It seems to bloom at night through early morning a few times a year. I remember taking them to my teachers on my way to school and plucking them on Sunday mornings for my grandmother.

It was blooming when my mom passed away. We made sure to have the blossoms at the temple as well as in our house. We put them in mom’s favorite red crystal vases which her friends joked that mom would rise out of the coffin to beat me and Pueng the Maid silly for actually using her prized possession.

Since the day I caught the scent in my bedroom, I expect the blossoms every night. I would take in deep breaths before getting in bed and think of mom.

It hurts a little, but strangely comforting.

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Originally uploaded by Oakmonster(TM).

NEVER pre-set a dessert because I WILL eat it before the main course arrives.

I may hide my extra 5 lbs. gain well.  But when none of my 3 pants-suits and 2 skirt-suits fits, it’s a sign.

My expanded hips, strangely, interferes with the length of my pants.

All of my pants on the suits are cut a little loose because I hate tight pants. So all of them sag a little to the floor and therefore give me room for the heels.

Now my Asian J-Lo butt fills in to the pants so they fit correctly. However, my length of the pants are affected. They are all too short for any non-sneakers/flipflop shoes I own.

The black standby skirt-suit skirt is also affected. It is now a little too tight…and wayyyy too short.

Needless to say, Brandon likes that skirt. 

The only suit left in the closet was from a bigger friend. Even after going through a tailor, my jacket still looks like a loaner from an older sister. That didn’t fly either.

I just have to improvise on the “Business Attire” wardrobe until I lose the 5lbs. Or go to Thailand to buy more suits.  Which I probably wouldn’t find because of my giant ass.

Yes. 5 lbs. extra and I’m fat for my clothes.

You know, in Thai standard, I am also a total heifer at the moment. In American standard, you can’t really tell.

I just have to work out more to keep eating the way I do.

Aging sucks.

My Vista weather-a-mabob said it’s 82F outside.

My hair still damped from a shower half and hour earlier when I stepped outside to take out the trash at 2 p.m.

I walked out, down the steps, around the courtyard, through the 6-car parking lot, dumped the trash and reverse the route.

My hair is mostly dry when I came back up.

I mean, after a few months of 3-day heat waves on and off, you have to wonder if it’s really summer yet.  Look at last week!  It was cold during the week and then the weekend shot up to thaw everyone out just to turn right around and freeze us all over again.

From what the weather report is telling me, it’s going to be warm for the rest of the week.

Let’s hope that’s the case.  This packing up the extra blankets and pulling them out again is getting old.

1.  It’s FRIDAY!!!

2.  Brandon’s back from D.C.  Happy dance, happy dance!

3.  Gay marriage ban is lifted in California.

4.  The newest of the Iron Man v.s. Batman video is out.

I am zapped.

Long, early start this morning with an event in Long Beach. Slipped a little bit in my new boots and now my bad ankle is swollen. Crazy rest of the day in the office as the bosses are getting ready to take off the next two days to do an executive powwow off site.

P-a-r-t-a-y!!!

Just kidding.

I can’t even try to do that with the amount of stuff I have to catch up on since this morning event took over my life this past week.

Treated myself to a “Chinese Reflexology Massage” at Red Persimmon, a nail place a few miles away. Sat there on the comfy couch for one hour getting my feet and neck and shoulders rubbed. Didn’t feel like eating dinner so I had a few mutant strawberries (they’re HUGE) and a few glasses of water before taking a dunk in a bath.

I feel like a jellyfish. Just a puddle of sinews and fluids here. Going to blob my way to bed now.

I’m sorry for yet another boring post. Well, hell. What do you expect from a jellyfish!

Someone in the office asked me what I want to be when I grow up.

“Millionaire rock star philanthropist,” I said.

He paused.

“So you want to be Bono?”

“Not with that much talent or the coolness. But, yes.”

He nodded and walked away.

It’s pretty interesting to see how people react to that question and answer. I have heard people get totally stumped when asked the question, and then people who has the simplest answer. Like, “Rich” or “Famous”.

Most people look at me funny when I told them about my ultimate goal.

Does anybody actually have a goal to be a philanthropist? Perhaps I am the only one?

I wasn’t always my goal, of course. I wanted to be a doctor, journalist, tennis champion and astronaut. Yes, ALL at the same time. I wanted to be an interior designer. A graphic artist. An advertising account executive. A movie producer. A web designer. Hell, I even wanted to be a wedding planner at some point.

The philanthropist thing doesn’t really come to full bloom until a few years ago when I realize the most joy I get outside of music and cooking/eating is helping people.

I love helping people. I love raising money. I do enjoy a few luxury in life that comes with having money on hand, but never dream of not being able to give away any.

I mean, the $3000 purse? I could just buy one for $40 and give $2960 away somewhere and I still have a purse that will hold my possession. $200 jeans? Well, okay, my ass would probably look fantastic in a pair of those, and I would probably own one when I can. But then again, I can squeeze into a pair of Levi’s for $30 and still look cute in them.

Is it a disorder that I can’t see myself being rich and not giving any away?

I think that is why people look at me funny. I want to have a lot of money so I can give a lot of it away. That shouldn’t make sense to most people.

It makes perfect sense to me.

When I die, I can’t take any of that with me. Why should I horde it when my money can go on and save lives, make people happy, and change the world?

How am I going to get to be the millionaire rock star philanthropist? I don’t really know just yet.

Well, unlike Bono, I don’t really have the talent. I can hold a tune and play a couple of ditties on piano and guitar, and I think I have the right rock star moves. But seriously, I don’t think this “good enough” is going to get me anywhere near rock stardom in the U.S. I might, however, be able to take a crack at it in Thailand as some niche pop-rock star, a one-hit wonder that makes banks and banks and then disappear. That would give me a good start on my millionaire goal. But that’s unlikely too.

So, I will have to “grow up” in reverse.

The philanthropist part, I sort of have been practicing that with all that I can afford. The easier next step for me is not becoming a rock star, but to be the millionaire. THEN I can peddle my album to the brown nosers who want my money. Or organize a big ass concert featuring the real artists and pop in on stage to rock with them for a song or two. Or put out charity albums with folks like Band from TV.

Good plan? I think so.

In the meantime, I am just happy being a thousandaire (actually, I can’t even say that since I have negative net worth…) living room rock star, karaoke queen, fundraiser lady.

Baby steps.

P.S. Speaking of which, the Lesser Weevils are back for AIDS Walk Long Beach 2008!  I’m recruiting team members as well as raising funds.  Come on down to the blog and help me out!