people that fall make me laugh

back when i was interviewing, i always hated when they would ask what my biggest weakness was, because mine is that i laugh hysterically when i watch people fall (as long as they're not seriously hurt. i'm not a sadist). i've been working on it for the past five years, and honestly have improved greatly. but i saw these clips relatively recently and i've regressed. maybe cause they're celebrities (or semi-celebrities like constantine maroulis, a.k.a. my big fat greek asshole). or maybe i'm just a dick. enjoy.

separate but equal

yesterday, i went to kevin's girlfriend's apartment on park avenue for an american idol finale party. before heading over, i stopped by rite aid to pick up a six pack of stella. i arrive and tell the doorman what where i'm headed. as i enter the regular elevator, he yells and tells me to use the freight elevator. a bit confused, i complied nonetheless. you see, her apartment has an elevator operator, and i thought he told me to use the freight elevator because the button pressing guy was too lazy to come over. but i was wrong.

apparently, he mistook me for a delivery man. granted, i was dressed casually in jeans, flip-flops, my recently purchased triple 5 soul jacket (sample sale until 6/5/05, 24th st between 5th & 6th ave) and a hat cause it was raining. plus i was carrying a plastic back from rite aid with the beer that i guess could have been misconstrued for take out. but still, other than my skin tone, i would hardly say i looked like a delivery man. i wanted to confront him about it, not necessarily yell (because honestly, where does that get you), but unfortunately he had left by the time i had gotten back down.

after i got home, i was still bothered by the whole incident. it's been a while since i've experienced any racism or racial profiling (boston, prudential center, summer of 2000), and i'd frankly forgotten that it could still happen to me. but still, it was more than just the actual incident itself. i was more annoyed by feeling annoyed at what happened. i know i sound classist, but in some way, it felt like an affront towards everything i had done in my life. my family's not poor, but definitely not well off. while both of my parents are college-educated (in the philippines), they often had to take menial jobs due to their immigrant status. so yeah, i could've been a delivery man. but i'm not. luckily, i've been able to go to college and medical school, and not feel like such an outcast walking on park avenue. but all it took was one second, one glance, for this asshole to dismiss the last 9 years of my life and put me in my place. fucker.

when it's over

last thursday (may 12) i finally graduated, marking the end of my days as a tuition-paying full-time student and the beginning of my life as a loan-repaying struggling intern. the all-university graduation in washington square park was okay, despite the lame, pretentious speech from the wack student speaker (some boring chemistry major from cas, bitch). but the med school graduation in carnegie hall was fantastic. i'm not typically sentimental and mushy and shit, but almost all of the speakers (john sexton, ben carson, even our class president) had me beaming like a little schoolgirl. i'm always happy when i'm reminded that five years of this stuff hasn't totally snuffed out my emotions.

being rudy huxtable

it's already may but it's still cold and wet. i didn't think i'd ever miss southern california, but months of this shit on end isn't doing anything to help my seasonal affective disorder. nonetheless, i still find i'm not dressing appropriately. in college, i used to make fun of all those assholes from california who were seemingly in denial about the cold northeastern weather. you know those guys, the ones who would wear cargo shorts and flip-flops (and sometimes the unmentionable combination of socks with sandals) in the middle of december. somehow, i've become that same dickhead that i so abhorred six years ago. anytime the temperature's over 40 degrees, i'm out in my flip flops and flimsy puma track jacket like some asshole that lived in california for a year. i'm kinda like rudy huxtable in that one episode of the cosby show where it's almost or is springtime but still cold as witchy titties and she sits up in her room for what seems like hours sulking because the beautiful mrs. clair huxtable, esquire, didn't want her to wear a flimsy sundress to her friend's (outdoor?) birthday party. i always hated that episode because i couldn't understand why someone would do that. oh how life imitates art.