EatDrink&BeMerry has tagged me in the Five Things About Me meme that has been going around the Interwebs. So here’s my barf.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
1. The very first live rock concert I went to was Ratt, in 1985, who were touring in support of their “Invasion of Your Privacy” release. Opening was a heretofore unknown band by the name of Bon Jovi. It was after witnessing this horror that I began an exodus from my newly-pubic, testosterone-stunted heavy metal fascination. Next stop: Thompson Twins.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
2. I spent many of my formidable, younger years overseas, including 7 years in Northwestern Saudi Arabia on the Persian/Arabian Gulf. Suffice to say, these were (sadly) mostly pork-free years. We watched highly censored, non sequiturs disguised as television programs that would segue from Alex P. Keaton’s imminent kiss to denouement all in the matter of 5 seconds, thus leaving 12 minutes of air time which was often filled with some bearded guy on a rug chanting “Allahu Akbar” in rapturous song. We played a lot of kickball.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
3. I am a lover of instant ramen. Not Americanized crap like Maruchan or Top Ramen — these brands are a scourge and blight upon humanity. But, rather, imported brands from all the countries than comprise the Asian continent. I have particular respect for the Koreans, who IMHO are the current world instant ramen kings, having wrested the mantle from the Japanese. This occurred some time in the early-to-mid nineties. Whereas most food dilettantes use their discernible faculties of taste detection to refine an appreciation of fine wine varietal and vintages, or train a palette to distinguish between olive oil appellations or artisanal cheeses, I have honed my tongue to recognize the noodle styles and MSG-laden broth characteristics of various instant ramen brands and their regions. Without seeing the package, I can correctly identify the distinct Korean brands (in their prepared states) of Jin Ramen, Nong Shim Shin Ramyun, and Samyang Ramen. Among the Nong Shim varietals, it is very likely I would be able to tell you which was Shin Ramyun, which was Kimchi flavor, and which was Neoguri seafood flavor. Likewise, I could differentiate between Nissin’s miso, tonkotsu, shoyu, pork, or prawn flavors rather easily. I would be able to inform you that I was about to slurp a bowl of Tung-I Chinese Onion Flavor simply by the nose.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
4. I have a young daughter who will be three in July. She is cute and funny and I’m a horrible role model because I can’t stop cussing. Profusely. In fact, I’m quite enamored with the F-bomb, as all 1.7 regular readers of this blog can attest. Due to a perfunctory corporate climate at my job, I am a language eunuch during the day. So when I get home, I have difficulty containing my excitement for a chance to use salty language. It is a problem that I have acknowledged.
However, I do not have any similar reservations about using colorful language on my blog, as my daughter is too young to read. I find the F-word, especially in gerund form, to be a fine rhetorical tool, a veritable colloquial Swiss army knife when employed by a skilled wordsmith. Why would any writer, especially a plebeian hack such as myself, deny the existence or refrain from the use of such an elocutionary flourish? Here is such an example writ large. Compare:
“It was good burrito.”
With…
“It was a fucking good burrito.”
Case closed.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
5. I am half-Vietnamese. As some people mistake me for being Latin or another indeterminately equatorial ethnicity of some sort, I’m often asked what my other half is, to which I reply “Cracker!”. I can make fun of both white people and Asians. It’s my right for being forced to check “Asian/Pacific Islander” on all my standardized tests in high school. First of all, how come America is so binary? You are either black or white, or something else altogether. When Tiger Woods splashed upon the scene, the media narrative dictated that he was the finest black golfer of all time, the first to win the Masters, etc. Which he certainly was…but with a father who was African AND Native American, but a mother who was FULL Thai, wouldn’t simple ratios qualify Tiger Woods as the best Thai golfer ever and first to win the Masters? The Sultan of Siam? Fuzzy Zoeller SHOULD have said, “You pat him on the back and say congratulations and enjoy it and tell him not to serve Khao Soi next year. Got it? Or Pad Kee Mow or Pad See Ew or whatever the hell they serve.”
And second, there’s only, what, 3 billion Asians? Maybe a few hundred thousand Pacific Islanders? Lumping both groups together under one umbrella gives short shrift to the Asian experience. How come there is no correlative option for “White/Caucasian/Icelandic” or “White/Caucasian/Baffin Islander?”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
There you have it. Five things you now know about me, time that could have been better spent watching Growing Pains reruns or cleaning the sock lint and jam from the inner nail nook of your big toe. For my part, I will pass the torch to the following:
- Hungry T at Tarte aux Poires
- Mary at Eat, Drink and Be Mary(Sue)
- Markovitch at gastronautical gastronomicon
- Sorcha at The Food N00bs
- Jared at The Carnivore Project
Consider yourselves tagged.
Now it is clear for me to know your five things . One of my friends on EbonyFriends.com asked me to have a look at the article . After reading, I can understand what the writter means. You mean Asian and Pacific islander is the same and united.
Okay, I’ll accept your tag, but first I have to comment – I too, have the mouth of a sailor, and it’s not as likely to rub off on your kids as you might think. So long as you teach ‘em that they shouldn’t curse in public because it disturbs people to hear little kids saying things like, “Motherfucking donkey balls!”, it’s usually okay.
There were many things happened in one’s life when he or she was growing up. Five things means five steps, from young to old, the sadness, the gladness,the fear and comfortable or uncomfortable feelings. I met a old black woman on EbonyFriends.com and she told me that she memoried her childhood frequently and it was interesting.
This was fucking great. Great fucking blog.
Granted, I haven’t dug deeply yet, but this is my favorite post I’ve come across.
Do you order from Ramen Depot? I’ve been trying to put together a $100 order and can’t quite convince gf that it is a good idea.
MR
GC, nice entertaining post. I feel like we’re friends now. *high-5*
(1) Sadly, I have the same bday as Jon Bon Jovi.
(2) Kickball rocks.
(3) I love instant ramen too but I am afraid to eat it now. Especially the japanese brands that proudly boast their 4,000+ mg of sodium an x amount of trans fats. As a ghetto child, we didn’t get lunchables, chips ahoy or doritos like most kids did. Our snack of choice was crushed up chinese kung fu ramen with season packet added. We’d close the bag w/ our fist grip and shake it, making sure that all morsels of msg cover each broken piece of dried ramen. it was the best. As for korean instant noodles, i have to agree with you. they make some really good stuff. how do you like thai instant noodles? my favorite is this particular one…green package, bbq duck flavored… once i find it i will send you a photo. it’s awesome.
(4) Fuck. Beautiful word. I agree… it is the swiss army knife of all words – highly versatile. http://justin.justnet.com.au/rudestuff/uses-of-the-word-fuck.html
(5) I thought you were full vietnamese – you’ve got a lot of knowledge of Viet food. Speaking of which, my gf and i are trying to go there for x’mas to eat.
MR – I get all my ramen from mostly Uwajimaya, Fubonn, with a few packages now and then from Thanh Thao on 65th/Sandy and the Lao store on Killingsworth/I-5.
eatdrinknbmerry – I think you’re talking about MAMA brand – they are notorious for their 2/3 scale ramen. They also have a “Creamy Tom Yum” flavor (that’s actually full scale size) that is supposed to mimic Tom Kha Kai that actually uses non-dairy creamer to produce the creaminess. That is so wrong that I don’t want to be right.
Whoa! I got tom yum MAMA but I did not know there was tom kha kai, or whichever version is like coconut milk. Must go back to the store and hunt this down. Although why did it never occur to me to add coconut milk on my own?
Nong Shim rocks! Especially kim chee flavor. They also make good udon. Quality stuff with little faux fish slices.
How/why were you in Saudi Arabia? Parent work as a chemist or some such? That’s usually the story with other folks I know who’ve spent some time there.
Being listed under a heading saying I have a Bizarrely Compulsive Fascinations with Meat is one of the highest honors I’ve ever received.
Just sitting down to relate my experience of making my own haggis…
fuck you fucking unclefucker. un fucking believable. fucking memes.
there. All the profanity is there to make you happier about reading it, GC :)
all in good fun.
It coulda been worse…your first concert could’ve been Stryper. Um, not that mine was.
My first real ‘rock and roll’ concert was Dave’s Big Deluxe
skankin baby!
best concert I ever saw in Tucson was Ozomatli and Santana, right before that god awful ‘duets’ album came out and ruined Santana forever. Ozo stole the show anyway.
ZenKimchi – I meant to add you under “Food Blogs” but mis-categorized it. But since you’re threatening haggis…
Flynn: exposure to the yellow-and-black striped spandex unitard for Jesus at such a tender age is enough to scar the most hardened soul for life.
WC – my dad was a financial something-or-another for one of the American imperialistic companies that provided various contract services for the Saudi government. These days you would qualify them as “war profiteers”, but since at the time there was no war happening, they were simply “tax evaders”.
I could write a lot about my young childhood in Kingdom Saud, from the break dance contests with young Saudi princes (then again, who wasn’t a prince?) and their crews who drove Iroc-Z’s and cruised our junior high during quitting time, to the heartbreak and despair that was Dhahran Little League baseball, to the proliferation of $1.25 pirate cassette tapes that would include all of Led Zeppelin II and a few songs from Led Zeppelin thrown in for good measure, complete with re-packaged album art and re-printed lyrics that were inevitably lost in translation (i.e. “With a purring under bella and a fifty scent cat…Living, Loving, Maid (She’s joking woman)”)
I’d love that Led Zeppelin tape…
I didn’t know any of that about Tiger Woods. Go figure. The media got me on that one…
The binary bubbles are no one’s friend. I went to high school with a (snowy white) girl born in South Africa. She was consistantly tempted by the ‘African American’ bubble.
Pingback: Five Things « Eat, Drink, and Be Mary (Sue)
Pingback: I got tagged – Tasting & Complaining