31,556,926 minutes

Okay, so I’ll admit it. Despite what my comment in the Beastie’s post says, I’ll agree that LDR’s suck. Kind’ve.

For some odd reason, throughout college, I had a penchant for somehow being involved in several LDR’s (if you can call them that), and for me, it’s no big deal if I don’t see my significant other more than twice a month. As long as I know that he’s thinking of me and how I’m the coolest, hottest piece of ass walking this planet, that’s fine with me. Plus it takes the routine out of seeing each other, and makes each reunion that much more exciting.

However, I absolutely HATE being in an LDR with my family. When I used to live in Chicago, my family and I would road trip to Minneapolis every weekend– it was like having a family reunion every weekend. For most people, having 30+ people under the same roof sounds dreadful, but I wish I could have it every day. Our family has grown a lot since then (where each family reunion consists of about 45-50 people in the same house per gathering), and people have slowly started branching out from Minnesota, so these functions only happen once or twice a year these days… Thank God for Facebook!

I can pretty much talk about my family all day long.

On my mom’s side, I have

  • 6 aunts, 2 uncles (plus their significant others)… so times two.
  • 14 cousins (plus myself and siblings make 17 cousins… plus 2 cousin-in-laws)
  • 2 nieces (err… second cousins? whatever it is when my cousin has kids)
  • 14 great aunts and great uncles
  • 16 second cousins (those are my mom’s cousins, right?) that I can count right now
  • HEEEEEELLA whatever the hell title you give to the child of your second cousin
  • 8 dogs

(My dad’s side is even bigger) Typical Asian family.

So yes, most reunions there are about 80% of the above list all gallivanting around the local Dairy Queen and Target together. My cousin in law jokes that we’re like locusts. We’ve named ourselves a LUnami… given that the name we all share is Lu. And we’re like a tsunami. I don’t think this really needed much explanation, but I felt like I had to give it anyway, just in case. Sorry for undermining your intelligence. We just get a lot of weird looks when we say it in public.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I say it takes a village to explain a child. Does that sound weird? What I mean is, if you spent 10 minutes within the swirling vortex of entropy that is my family, you’d understand why I am the way I am to the core. First of all, we eat a shitload. All jokes aside, I’m pretty sure our overly gluttonous mantra is due to the fact that at one point, my mom’s family really was poor and starving, so now they compensate by over-eating. But this is also due to the fact that we’re all that perfect combination of “culinary showboat” and “kiss ass.” For example, my mom’s favorite soup in the world is French Onion soup. At my last job, my coworker was a very talented French chef. And thus, I asked her to teach me to make French Onion soup so that I could sneak it into our family’s Christmas dinner… even though we already had 5 other courses planned for the menu. The vast amount of traveling and even more vast amount of eating that my family has done also makes us super snobby eaters. I’ll admit, when it comes to Vietnamese or Thai food, I can never eat out, because it’ll never live up to the expectations my taste buds have come to develop after years of being spoiled by my Mama. For instance, pretty much every Vietnamese sandwich shop also makes banh bao, or steamed buns. But I’ll never, EVER buy it. Because they all suck like a 2’11” garden gnome trying to play basketball against the Michael Jordan that is my mama. Excuse the poor photo quality of my stupid  new Windows phone (#firstworldproblems); this still looks effin delicious.

Also, you probably NEVER want us in your restaurant. First of all, good luck accommodating our 30+ sized party. Second, good luck accommodating 30+ people telling you your “pad Thai” is not “Thai” enough. We pretty much sound like this when we go out to eat:

No joke. Growing up, I was never, ever allowed to order the same dish as someone else because “then we wouldn’t be able to try as many dishes,” and my dad has LITERALLY SAID “this is not how they make it in Thailand,” (he lives in Thailand, so I guess he is somewhat an authority on this), while my mom is always muttering “don’t order that– I can make it for you at home.” WE INVENTED BEING A FOODIE. Worse, my parents like to play this game where we shovel small bites onto my dad’s plate (he’s a supertaster) and he’ll figure out the ingredients while my mom figures out the technical aspects, and within 5 days, they’ll have re-created it for dinner. Yeah, we never go to a restaurant more than twice. Except for Sizzler. My dad goes ballistic for salad bars. He attacks them like my brother and I attack open bars. Yaddimean?

Another thing you should know about my family: we’re weird. And we pretty much do whatever the hell we want. Not in an obnoxious way– I’m sure people laugh at us all the time– but we tend to do things a little differently. For instance, most people typically take photos in respectable poses at understandable/remarkable landmarks, such as this:

But instead, we take pictures in urinals. In prom dresses.

I’m convinced this is going to be a huge trend one day. Like planking, except… urinaling.

I can’t wait to go urinaling with my mom later at the park!

Yeah, look out for that movement.

Anyways, the point of all this is that my family got together last weekend to celebrate my grandparent’s 60th anniversary (as I mentioned in the last post).

In case you wondering, 60 years is:

  1. 720 months
  2. 21.900 days
  3. 525,600 hours
  4. 31,525,600 minutes

Yeah, 31.5 MILLION minutes. That’s a long ass time. Enough time to watch 1,313,567 episodes of Friends, or enough time to watch all 10 seasons in repeat 5,566 times. (I’ve probably seen/practiced “The Routine” 5,566 times, to be honest.)

But yeah. Pretty amazing when you think about it. To be committed to someone for that long. I can barely commit to my packed lunch come 11am!

But I’ll tell you what– I’ll write in this blog for 60 years if you promise to keep coming back to read it :)


One response

  1. Pingback: Hydrate, caffeinate, libate. Repeat. | The Bestie+Beastie Project

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