Archive for the Culture Category

Pick-Up Lines (IN THE NAME OF ‘Science’)

Posted in Culture, Humor, Science, Writing on December 19, 2007 by geniusadvice


By Shuk Yan


Are you a fossil? Because I’d like to date you.

Baby, you’re so gneiss, I’ll never take you for granite.

Are you a mummy? ‘Cause I’m under wraps over you!

Every time you walk into the room, it’s your fault my heart shakes!

You’re firm and adamant sometimes, but always marble-lous!

If I was boulder, I’d ask you out dunite.

Even if you looked like dirt, I’d really dig you.

– – –


I’ll treet you well, ’cause I’m for arboreal.

You must be a botanist, ’cause I’m lichen you.

You’re like a forest of potatoes; I get lost in your eyes.

Do you photosynthesize? ‘Cause I can’t leaf you alone tonight.

Be vine, ’cause ivy-ly like you!

Ivy-ly love you; can weed be together?

Are you a textile worker? ‘Cause I’m cotton your gauze.

– – –


You must be atomic; you’re radiant in your element.

– – –


I need to check with my dentist to see if you’re too sweet.

Is your sign Cancer? ‘Cause you’re growing in my heart!

Are you a brain tumor? ‘Cause you’re always in my mind.

Gah! I think I’m going blind, ’cause I can’t see me without you!

Are you a cataract? I can’t get past your eyes.

– – –


I’m your biggest fan; if you chill with me, I’ll blow you away!

I’m married to an engineer, but I promise to lever if you want me to.

Do you like centripetal forces? ‘Cause you’re making my world go round!

I want to see you so often, it hertz.


I quote.

Posted in Culture, Fiction, Life, Science on August 9, 2007 by geniusadvice


I wanna tell you something Mark, something you do not yet know, that we K-PAXians have been around long enough to have discovered. The universe will expand, then it will collapse back on itself, then will expand again. It will repeat this process forever. What you don’t you know is that when the universe expands again, everything will be as it is now. Whatever mistakes you make this time around, you will live through on your next pass. Every mistake you make, you will live through again, & again, forever. So my advice to you is to get it right this time around. Because this time is all you have.
– Prot, K-PAX

Eight Eating Etiquettes with Asians.

Posted in Culture, Family, Food, Humor, Issues, Life on February 26, 2007 by geniusadvice

I’m still in the CNY mode, so here goes. (By Asian, I mean Chinese. Sorry, South Asians!) Hopefully the advice belows makes you on good terms with Asians relating to their culture through dining. Especially if you’re meeting your hot Asian girlfriend’s parents for the first time and they’re not white-washed. For all the points below, assume you are eating at a Chinese restaurant, and you are the minority there. That means NOT Asian, buddy.

Arrive on time. Needless to say, Asians are vey judgemental while not on the outside. Being late will only label you as a slob. And that’s minus 2 brownie points.

If it’s a special occasion (ie. birthdays, Chinese New Years), bring a gift. Like oranges, because…that’s how Asians are (for lack of a better explanation). For Chinese New Years, I think the unspoken rule is that married folks need to give children money in red pockets.

When you are excepting gifts, it is custom to refuse it first, preferably 3 times. If the giver doesn’t not seem to want to insist 3 times, once is fine. As long as you look reluctant to receive it.

Pour the tea for everybody. This is only polite, and you should do this especially for elderly people or people generally older than you. Do not order or water Coke, as that will make it seem like you are not trying to get to know your guests. Love the tea, and pretend you’re drinking coffee instead.

Learn how to use chopsticks in advanced.
This will impress Asians a lot. Forks are a no-no.

Answer the interrogation questions during mealtime. This is like an interview and if they don’t like you, you’re pretty much screwed. Make you job sound glorious, even if you’re a programmer. (No offence). Don’t say how you enjoy making out with the parents’ daughter or anything stupid like that. You might get…um…injured very badly.

Research some Asian dishes you can order in advanced. You won’t be getting any French fries. Don’t order Western food in a Chinese restaurant. There’s a reason for that.

Dress decent. Don’t overdress, but dress ‘decent’.

Paying for the bill. I don’t know if only Asians can do this, but you must seem that you really want to pay for the meal to the extent of fighting for your right to pay. Yes, this seems ridiculous, but I assure you that this is not some Asian conspiracy to scam you for a free meal. Seriously.

And that’s it.
Don’t hold me responsible if anything back fires.
Because I’ll delete this site faster than you can say “Nee ho maa??”

Chinese New Year.

Posted in Culture, Family, Life on February 23, 2007 by geniusadvice

Yes, I am inexplicity Chinese.

And like most Asians that celebrate Chinese New Year, I also enjoy the get-togethers which proclaim the tradition of our forefathers before us. Where we can revel with those tiny mandarin oranges and rice wine. (I don’t really drink that stuff though.)

Being the third-generation of an immigrant family in Canada, all this multiculturalism takes away from the festivities just a little. I no longer go to the heritage Chinatown with my parents like I did when I was younger. (This is mainly due to hygienic reasons.) I no longer marvel at the old herbal shops and the family-oriented lifestyle. (“Orient”, haha.) And so this Chinese New Year, the year of the Golden Boar, has become mundane. The ritual of family dinners has been replaced with the risk of giving more money in red pockets (“lai see”) than in receiving them.

No wonder the youths of today, the generation Y, Z, ampersand, etc… feel so lost; they are a mash up of identities and cultural clashings. We have nothing to call our own, constantly warring with Western ideologies and Asian superstitions that lead to nowhere. The sheltered life where parents apply pressure for them to become doctors because that’s the only ‘respectable’ occupation. The result is the relaxed, complacent, and vegetative state of youths, rotting away on the internet, hanging out in malls and movie theatres. This social ambiguity is only fought with depression, distraction, and the formation of gangs. This is evident within new immigrant communities, where they first learn “Chinglish”, and mixture of Chinese dialect with various and random English nouns and verbs, a cacophony strung together.

I don’t know what to think anymore, but I know I’ll never see the color red the same way again.

Silvia Plath Imitations.

Posted in Culture, Fiction, Life, Writing on February 19, 2007 by geniusadvice


My list grew longer.


Left, right, slide, upside-down. Things that I put down disappeared. When a neat and washed pile of clothes sat in a corner, destruction would be inevitable. Demolished completely by my hands. A new textbook ruined by my pens; my locker, a landfill. I had tried so hard to catch up to the first, second, third runners, only to fall behind to the place where you always get lapped. I would sleep everyday afterschool, waking in odd intervals, sometimes losing marks for late and messy work. I had no future. I hadn’t bothered to make one.

I had a dream. From it, I saw myself on a bed of needles, under a dark cloud. It began to move. Thousands at a time, mosquitoes puncturing the surface of my skin, drinking and toasting to the blood of my flesh. As my own blood, the special juice, filled each one up, I raised and dropped my palms, painting abstract masterpieces of red and black on my arms, my legs…everything. They multiplied, coming on faster and faster. My arms blurred, matching their pace. But then my vision clouded black and I could see nothing. And then, my head through the layers of wings and legs. Having their fill, they had all died. Except one. Who, as I had become exhausted and closed my eyes to sleep, landed on one of the fingers of my right hand. I felt the stream of blood open up to it, and I surrendered to the unknown, the leeching vampire, eternally feeding.

But nothing lives forever.



A thousand volts into five of those flying buggers and the black swarm still came. They dropped to the hard linoleum floor dozens at a time like noiseless rain. My love of chocolate, gone in a furious swipe. The dense cloud of buzzing insects showed no signs of dispersing.


Another handful, fried, fell spasming uncontrollably before becoming motionless. My job as a medical doctor, pharmacist, brain surgeon. But I knew they were doomed from the beginning. This wasn’t doing any good. Angry, I waved the paddle-like object faster and faster until my arm became a blur. And I watched them fall: Billionaire, talent show winner, record breaker, extreme unicyclist, full-contact chessmaster. I looked back and forth, trying to spot for any challengers, the environmental activist, humanitarian, mediator. But they must have gone down with the others.


I had lost the time and part of my mind. When I became conscious of where I was, in a kitchen ankle-deep in a sea of black, I realized none of them had made it. I poked around the hard, chitin bodies with the now spent zapper. And I heard a buzz and the translucent wings of a worry-wort.