Category Archives: Words and Phrases
I’m such a wayfaring blogger. But I’ve moved [again] to some greener pastures — a self hosted blog over at
I would love if you follow me over there. Because I’m getting married. And I’m blogging all about it.
The joy of being half white and half Filipino is in the combination of cultures. For example, we own a Mah Jong set, but play without the gambling tiles, which we call “flower tiles” and don’t even know how to use. Seriously, I don’t even know if that’s their name. But it’s a tile with a flower on it, so there we go.
This basically means that we may or may not be playing the game correctly. But it’s how Dad taught us when he read the directions, so that’s what we go with.
Now, Mah Jong (as far as I know) is similar to playing Gin or Gin Rummy. It’s similar to a deck of cards in that it also has suits – but instead of Hearts, Clubs, Spades, and Diamonds, it has what in my family we call Balls, Sticks, and Cars (short for characters, apparently).
We taught the Boo to play Mah Jong, since along with a card game called Tent, it’s what our family game night consists of. The other night at dinner, when I had a few friends over (Meghan (FunSized) and Rob (the bf)), Boo declared that it was a Mah Jong night.
Boo’s really getting the hang of the game the older he gets (he’ll be 7 in September), to the point where he doesn’t need help playing, won the first game, and charmed us with this lovely anecdote.
Boo discards a tile. It’s a 1 Ball tile. Rob’s turn is next. He draws a tile, and discards it. It’s the same tile – the 1 Ball.
“Hey Rob,” declares the Boo. “Look! We both got balls!”
Cue Laugh Track.
This is how scheduling goes on Friday evenings.
me: i can schedule you for tuesday and thursday next week.
her: how about monday?
me: i can do monday and wednesday.
her: i don’t really like monday though.
me:…how about tuesday and wednesday then?
her: is that all there is? that doesn’t really work.
me: wednesday and thursday?
her: i don’t really like that either.
me: okay…so you said monday doesn’t work?
her: but how about tuesday and thursday?
her: tuesday and thursday would be PERFECT.
Sometimes, it’s just so hard to explain things to a little kid. Like the time that Mommy got presents every month, even when it wasn’t her birthday.
That one ended up with SpiderMan having new “Gentle Glide with the Best Leak Protection” pewers, if you can imagine that. If you can’t, here is an image I drew of it.
So, the Boo and I were hanging out with LEGO MIXELs, which is his latest craze, the book I’m reading, and Pitch Perfect. We have the soundtrack for Pitch Perfect, so Boo was basically singing along to everything. It’s awesome. I keep telling him that when he gets older, we’re totally going to bombard my choir director with THREE GENERATIONS OF HOYER in the same choir.
So, Anna Kendrick goes to sing the cup song…
…and Boo looks up at me with this inquisitive stare and is all:
Hey Mommy, why do girls wear shirts with that line?
And I look at Anna Kendrick, and I look at her gray shirt with no lines and I look at Boo, and I’m like…what line?
So he walks up to the TV and he points.
Right. To the cleavage.
Boo: Girls wear shirts like right there.
Boo: See, the line? Girls’ shirts are right there, and they have boobs and there’s like a line.
Boo: Boys don’t have it. Cuz I sing Agony, and I don’t have a line.
And then he started singing Agony, and got totally distracted, and I texted furiously to people that Boo had just questioned cleavage, and how do you explain cleavage to a six year old?!
Fast Forward to the next day.
We’re at the dinner table, and enjoying a nice dinner, and Boo looks at me, super serious.
Hey Mommy, you’re wearing a Pitch Perfect shirt today!
And I look down, because I i’m pretty sure I don’t OWN a Pitch Perfect shirt.
But yeah. He was totally right.
It’s a whole new year, ladies and gentlemen. This means resolutions, trying new things, being better people, etc, etc. I ended 2014 in great fashion.
Now, when I say great fashion, I do mean great fashion.
But the biggest fashion statement I made was not worn most of the evening. This was a hooded furry bear which once upon my person was somehow called: a coat.
Faux fur is very in right now, which means that there is a very specific list of people wearing fur: people that brought about the faux fur rage, people that always wore faux fur, or people that are jumping on the faux fur train.
I personally bought my fur coat from Forever 21 for 12.90 on clearance, because I planned on using it for a halloween costume that never came to fruition. Which means that I really don’t fall in any of those categories. Thus, I present to you:
The Stages of L.A. on New Year’s in her faux fur coat
1. The self conscious L.A.
I put the fur coat on after staring at all my coats, deciding I couldn’t wear a North Face out on NYE, and remembering we had plans to walk to our destination. Then GoldDust sent me the following:
So, knowing that I wouldn’t be the only one in fur, I put the furry on, hoping I could pull it off.
2. The grateful L.A.
The walk in the cold and windy and snowy weather suddenly made me thrilled that I had put on the fur. Michigan is really cold, guys. Like freezing.
3. The fashionable L.A.
The point at which I felt confident, tipsy, and like I could rule the world in my fur coat. You guys. I looked good.
4. The Nesting L.A.
In which all I know is how soft the furry is and how warm the furry is and YOU GUYS, feel my arm.
And finally, stage 5.
Guys, I’m a polar bear.
So, I live in this city called Grand Rapids, MI. It’s a nice city.
There comes a time in Grand Rapids, MI where we are a little more widely known. People come from all over to see the great display of Art Prize.
Art Prize is a giant explosion of stuff in downtown Grand Rapids. The whole downtown area is like a giant canvas for artists. People cram into downtown like sardines and get to vote on what their favorite piece is. Yay, public opinion!
There is an excellent part about Artprize – the constant debate on what defines art. As far as I know, anyone can enter Art Prize. Last year, a tapestry won. Another year, Jesus won. The variety of art spans from musical performances to musicals, to sculptures and paintings, and to this furry box located in front of the hockey arena with eggs inside. There was a year when a giant pig was art. And another year that a penny made of pennies was art.
And this year, Boo decided to define art as only a six year old can.
Boo: Mom, look! It’s more art!
Me: Boo, that’s not art.
Boo: It’s in artprize!
Me: Boo, it’s a garbage chute.
Boo: Oh, I thought it was art because it was so tall.
Me: Nope, just garbage.
Boo: Now why would anyone put garbage into artprize??!
Vote on, Grand Rapids.
Me: I finally watched the purple wedding.
Her: Joffrey is such a little chatch.
Me: You’ve gotta hate someone.
Her: List of people you can hate: Cersei, the lady that birthed period blood in air form, the man that chopped off Jamie’s hand and hung it around his neck like an asshole…
Me: NOT THE POINT.
Her: …everyone that came to the wedding and was mean to Tyrion because what a guy, social media spoiler-ers…
Me: STILL NOT THE POINT.
Her: …George R.R. Martin for making us all love his nonsense so much.
Me: He must not get invited to weddings ever.
Her: At the rate you’re going, he can basically plan yours.
Her: I’m just going to add my name to the list after Joffrey and Cersei. Please don’t poison my drink.
Me: I’m going to die alone.