Category Archives: Words and Phrases

Moving Day!

I’m such a wayfaring blogger. But I’ve moved [again] to some greener pastures — a self hosted blog over at

findingla.net

I would love if you follow me over there. Because I’m getting married. And I’m blogging all about it.

XOX,

L.A.

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Anatomy 101

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.

Image via Taipeitimes.com

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.

Game Night at the Hoyer household.

Game Night at the Hoyer household.

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.

We’re going to a Game Night with a collection of my oldest friends tomorrow – games to play include Guesstures and Heads Up! What do you like to do for Game Nights?

Technology saves the day.

I love my iPhone. Seriously. It’s a little too intense for life, how much one can love an electronic device. But here we are, me waxing poetic about my love for a stupid phone.

the top five reasons I love my phone

5. instant communication.

4. the ability to stay connected to people that you normally wouldn’t.

3. the information highway.

I love being able to be on a road trip with my family and have discussions such as these:

Dad: I believe the background Book of Mormon was written by Joseph Mormon and was based on these golden plates that an angel gave to him to translate.

Me: How did he translate it?

Dad: I think he had some sort of translating stone.

Me: Also given to him by the angel?

Dad: Of course! I don’t know, I could be making this all up. Look it up. Do you have your phone? Google it.

This also lead to the information drought of 2015, when we drove to Canada and didn’t have access to the internet, only texting and phone.

2. Selfies. On selfies on selfies on selfies. I love photos. AND NOW A CAMERA IS IN MY POCKET FOR EVER. #SNAPCHAT (@LA_theGirl)

#Selfie #MirrorShot

#Selfie #MirrorShot

And.

The number one reason that I love my phone:

1. Spider just crawled on my desk and that phone killed it dead.*

*Author’s note: the next day, another spider jumped on her desk, and she did not have her phone and she crushed it with her bare head because scared of spiders and BAMF.

Reasons I love my job.

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: …but…

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?

me: …

her: tuesday and thursday would be PERFECT.

And now, I guess she’s on crack.

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.

Spiderman and his Playtex Pew-er.

Spiderman and his Playtex Pew-er.

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.

Off topic.

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.

Me: Well.

Boo: See, the line? Girls’ shirts are right there, and they have boobs and there’s like a line.

Me: Well.

Boo: Boys don’t have it. Cuz I sing Agonyand 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.

How much does a polar bear weigh and other pressing questions

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.

IMG_1783

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:

IMG_1800

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.

IMG_0022 copy 

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.

Image via Wikipedia.

Guys, I’m a polar bear.

Artsy, Fartsy

So, I live in this city called Grand Rapids, MI. It’s a nice city.

IMG_4491

It’s a nice place. You know, museums, hockey team, symphony, etc. etc. And not only that.

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.

IMG_4432Art 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!

IMG_4439

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??!

IMG_4494

Boo’s Art Prize 2k14 exhibit.

Vote on, Grand Rapids.

 

I’ve over thought my childhood addictions

Lately, I’ve been on a Gossip Girl kick. Namely because Netflix, and everybody knows what Netflix does to you.

Which means that since Gossip Girl is six seasons long, I’ve been watching this show for ages and ages. I mean, for forever.

For.

Eh.

Ver.

So, imagine me, last night, somewhere between the hours of 2 and 3 am, watching Gossip Girl over and over. I read the books in their entirety from when the first one was released in like…2001 or something, until the last one came out sometime during college. Thus, I love the books, I love the show, and I know it like the back of my hand.

Or so I thought.

(Insert ominous music here)

I’m one of those people who will watch a show over and over. I’m one of those people who reads books over and over.  I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve gone through a series despite knowing it so well. But I was watching Gossip Girl last night and this happened.

Remember Eva?

THIS CHICK. She comes into Gossip Girl and saves Chuck from a gunshot wound despite being a random chick in Poland. It’s bizarre. And I’m watching her, and for some reason, she’s bugging me more than normal. There’s the normal botheration, where I’m so angry at her for screwing up my favorite fictional characters universe. And then there’s this weird thought in the back of my head, like I know her.

It’s that terrible moment where you see someone on the street and you know you know them so you smile, but you can’t remember why you know them so you’re just this idiot smiling at this other person trying to remember things before you pass them by and are branded as the smiling idiot on the street.

So, I Google her. Because it’s entirely possible to Google an actor in 2014, even if you can’t Google the random person on the street to find out why you know them.

FREAKING FLEUR DELACOUR.

And I cannot believe that I missed this. Sure, it’s probably normal that you don’t realize one actor is in two completely different things. Sure, it’s probably fine that the dots didn’t connect because it’s just Harry Potter and it’s just Gossip Girl, and I do have a real life outside of books and movies and things.

Thankfully.

But seriously. I could not figure out how I missed this.

She's a witch, Hotchy.

That’s about when I went off the deep end of pop culture.

Fleur/Eva

 

And that was Tuesday. 

POST SCRIPT RUN ON SENTENCE. I’m sorry I haven’t blogged but it’s stuff like this that is reasons I haven’t and HAVEN’T YOU MISSED ME or ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED or something like that.

 

I think it rained on my tinder.

Update: I told you about the tigers. I told you about these freaking tigers. I’d also like to point out that there is a TUMBLR dedicated to said tigers and tinder men. I’m not the only one who noticed the ridiculous amount of RAHR.

 

The strange part of this story is how this app came to be on my phone. My co-worker, MT, is happily married with a puppy. She screenshots snapchats that her husband sends her while he’s away and doesn’t get in trouble for it. All her selfies feature two people (and occasionally the puppy). Main point: she’s happy.

CW and I are slightly more disgruntled about life. Thus, why it was strange when MT spent the better part of the morning trying to convince CW and me to download tinder.

Eventually, we caved and both downloaded it on our phones. It was probably harmless, after all.

First person comes up. I look at CW’s phone. She looks at mine. It’s the same guy. No words as we both swipe left.

“It said we’re a match!” CW exclaims, terrified. “But I swiped left! I swiped left!”

The Thought Process of L.A. on Tinder

Tinder is stupid.

Swipe.

I can’t believe I’m helping someone make money off of this.

Swipe.

This person put up a group photo and I have no idea which one he is.

Tinder2

Swipe.

I mean, this is basically a dating app.

Swipe.

I don’t want to date a group of people.

Swipe.

I don’t want to date anyone.

Swipe.

I don’t know why I downloaded this app.

Swipe.

Stupid peer pressure.

Swipe.

I don’t want to date your abs.

Swipe.

Or your puppy.Tinder3

Swipe.

Or your dead animal that you killed.

Tinder1

Swipe.

Or this girl that is in this photo with you.

Tinder4

Swipe.

Or this tiger.

Swipe.

Why are there so many tigers on tinder?

Tinder5

Swipe.

THIS MAN IS HUGGING A BABY BEAR.

Swipe.

Fuck, I know this person in real life.

Swipe.

New text: Did I just see you on tinder? Fuck.

Swipe.

Holy crap, I had a crush on this person back in the day.

Pause.

Click.

I’m a much better personality now than I was then.

Click.

I wonder which way he swiped for me.

Swipe.

Untitled

Swipe.

I feel so pretty right now.

Swipe.

It’s almost as if I’m not sitting in  bed with a bag of Doritos, How I Met Your Mother, and Tinder at 3 in the morning.

Swipe.

Fuck, I spilled the Doritos.

Swipe.

My life is so sad.

Swipe.

This guy’s face is terrifying.

Swipe.

I did not swipe right!

Swipe.

The terrifying face just sent me a message!

Swipe.

He must be deranged, why the fuck is he up at 3 in the morning on Tinder?!

Swipe.

Pause.

Reevaluate life.

Next Morning.

Me: I didn’t sleep last night.

CW: Tinder?

Me: I deleted it.

CW: It’s for the best.

The Wedding Planner, not starring J.Lo

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.

Image from geekshizzle.com

Me: He must not get invited to weddings ever.

Her: At the rate you’re going, he can basically plan yours.

Me: …

Her: …

Me: …

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.