Mama Fung and I Talk About the Winter Olympics

In a phone conversation:


Mom: Are you watching the Olympics?

Me: A little.

Mom: I don't understand the winter sports.

Me: Hm?

Mom: These people... Are they looking for ways to die?

Me: [laughing] Yeah, the ski jump is the crazy one for me. Who would think to zoom down a mountain and fly up in the air like that?

Mom: And they must crash many times while they are learning to do it. Who does this?

Me: [laughing] Guai lo? (Cantonese term that basically means "white people."

Mom: [pause] You are right. Guai lo are crazy.

Me: [laughing]

Mom: And the one where the two people have to ride down a slide in a little car? So ong geui. (Cantonese word that doesn't quite translate, but more or less means stupid or dim-witted.)

Me: [laughing] What do you think of curling then?

Mom: Which one is that?

Me: It's kind of like bowling on ice, but slow...

Mom: Oh, with the brooms!

Me: Yes!

Mom: They can come clean my house.

Me: [laughing]

Mom: [laughing]

Me: You know, if I stay in Boston, I will have to learn a snow sport so that I have something to do in the winter.

Mom: Which one would you learn?

Me: The biathlon. I want to ski and shoot people.

Mom: Shoot people? What are you talking about? What is wrong with you?

END.

Mama and Papa Fung Offer Their Congrats, For Realz

I realize I give my parents a hard time for the peculiar ways in which they offer their praises. But in truth, they really are very sweet and supportive. Today, I sent them a copy of an article I recently published. My mom called and left a voice message that went like this:

(It's all in Cantonese, except for the parts that are italicized, which she says in English.)

Hello [my Chinese name]? I just tried reading your essay. Sorry, too difficult, can't understand. But I'm so proud of you. Really not easy. How cold is it over there? Nothing important, just tried reading your article but couldn't, so I wanted to let you know. Well, then I know you work very hard. Okay. Don't work too hard. Okay? That's all. Bye.


Fuck. She always manages to make me cry when I least expect it.

My dad, of course, offered his congrats with his usual flair. In an email reply, he wrote:


Hi Prof,

This will help my insomnia tonight. 

Dad

Though in fairness, he was responding to my email, in which I wrote, "Try to stay awake reading this one, Dad." So I guess I was asking for it. 

Mama and Papa Fung Offer Their Congrats

I recently got an article published and received some good news about another. As always, I like to share my accomplishments with my proud parents. My dad tells me that he and mom were chatting about my good news when they had my aunt and uncle over for dinner. My aunt marvels, "Wow, I don't know how she writes so much! How does she even think of so many things to write about?" To which Mama Fung echoes:

"I don't know why she has to think so much... like a strange person."

END.

Mama and Papa Fung at Qigong Class

After a hiatus, my mom and my aunt decided to resume their Qigong classes. This time, they managed to drag their husbands along with them. When I asked mom how the classes went, she only said, "The master thought your dad was someone's dad! Because he looks so old! The master is actually older than your dad, but your dad walks around like an old man." My dad's side of the story was different, however:

Me: So how did Qigong class go?

Dad: Fine! You know how I've been doing Tai Chi for many years now? So the movement was pretty familiar. We were doing the exercises and the master said that out of everybody in the class, I have Neigong!

Me: Neigong?

Dad: You know what Neigong is? It means I have natural power that comes from within! Like in those old movies where the kung fu masters can make it rain! Hahaha!

Me: And what kind of power do you think you have?

Dad: Oh, you never know. When it comes out, it can take over the world by storm! Hahaha!

Me: Mom doesn't have Neigong?

Dad: No. You know the two sisters-- They just follow the rules but they don't know how to do it naturally.

Me: Mom didn't mention anything when I asked her how class went.

Dad: Well, she probably won't want to go to class anymore. She probably thinks the master doesn't know what he's talking about.

-----

Dad returned the phone to mom, so I decided to probe futher.

Me: So dad has Neigong, huh?

Mom: Well, he already had learned the foundations before.

Me: You don't believe the master when he says that dad has Neigong?

Mom: No way.

Me: How did uncle do?

Mom: The master said he had the best sitting position. I didn't. After sitting for a few minutes, my legs hurt so much I couldn't get up. 

END.

Care Package from Mom

My mom calls me today to say, "I made some Chinese New Year cakes and I will be sending you one in the mail. Also in that package, I will send some tea that helps with constipation. Oh, and it's good for your skin... What's so funny?"

Damn you, Jeremy Lin.

Jeremy Lin is officially plaguing my existence. Here's how:


Me: So dad says that all you guys are talking about now is Jeremy Lin.

Mom: I told him I should have pushed you and your brother harder when you were kids. But your dad says I'm not a tiger mom. I'm just a mouse mom.

Me: I'm glad you're not a tiger mom.

Mom: And then your dad said that I didn't need to be a tiger mom anyway. So I said, "What, you don't think we could have pushed our kids more?" And he said, "No, they turned out good anyway!" Can you believe that? So arrogant.

Me: What are you saying, mom? That you don't think we're successful?

Mom: Eh, you two are average.

Me: Average?? Mom, average people don't get PhDs and become professors. Average people don't, at the age of twenty-three, become interior designers in New York City and support themselves.

Mom: Oh who cares? Plenty of Chinese kids get PhDs. Nothing special. Jeremy Lin is also twenty-three, and now look at how much money he makes.

Me: Mom, if you're going to compare us to Jeremy Lin, you are going to be very disappointed.

Mom: I wish you and your brother were like Jeremy Lin.

Me: ...

Mom: Okay, I have to go now. My Qi Gong class is starting! Bye!

END.

Linsanity, continued

Mom: Have you been watching Jeremy Lin? He's so good!

Me: Yeah, he's pretty amazing.

Mom: Maybe I should have pushed you and your brother to play basketball. Then maybe you won't be so short.

Me: If it works that way.

Mom: Also, why is it that even though I took you and your brother to church, you never kept your faith? But Jeremy Lin's mom took him to church, and he is still such a good Christian?

Me: Maybe we just like to defy you, mom. Even if you told us to play basketball, we probably would have done something else.

Mom: I should tell your brother to drink more then. He drinks too much!

END.

Mama and Papa Fung Catch Linsanity

Wow, so much has happened since I last posted on this blog, including the rise of Jeremy Lin, who has sparked mad excitement among Chinese and Taiwanese American folks in particular.

Dad: I told your brother that he needs to practice basketball now. And you should practice bowling.

Me: Why bowling?

Dad: Because you're terrible.

END.

-----

Mom: See, Chinese people can do anything!

END.

Letting It All Out

I called my parents on a Saturday.

Dad: Hello?

Me: Hi dad.

Dad: Oh hi!

Me: What are you doing?

Dad: Singing "Jumping Jack Flash"! And it's aaaaallll riiiight nooow. JUMPING JACK FLASH! IT'S A GAS! IT'S A GAS! Mom went out, so I can sing all the loud Rolling Stones songs now.

Me: Where is mom?

Dad: She and Ee Ma went to their Qi Gong class.

Me: Oh right.

Dad: I tell them it's no use. Qi Gong is supposed to teach you how to relax and let out your energy. But they get angry all the time anyway! Hahaha!

Me: So it doesn't work for them.

Dad: It doesn't work! I tell them they're wasting their money and their time and then get angry at me again! Hahahaha!

Me: Well, clearly the key to relaxation is to sing obnoxious songs at the top of your lungs.

Dad: Works for me! Though I think that makes your mom more angry.

END.

Batteries

Two weeks after Thanksgiving, and Dad is still obsessed with his remote control helicopter. I chatted with him over the phone about it.

Dad: I've been practicing every day. I'm pretty good at taking off and steering. Now I'm learning how to land the helicopter onto the kitchen table.

Me: I'm surprised you haven't broken the thing yet.

Dad: I thought it was broken, but it wasn't. You know how I have to charge the battery for one hour in order to play for ten minutes? As it turns out, I have to also play with it immediately after charging, otherwise the battery dies again.

Me: I see.

Dad: It's like sex. You have to keep practicing or your batteries die. Very frustrating! Hahahaha!

END.

The only thing creepier than thinking about your parents having sex is thinking about them thinking about you having sex.

Upon learning about a relative's unexpected pregnancy, my brother decided to freak my mom out by telling her that I was pregnant. This is how my mom relayed their conversation to me:

Mom: Your brother wanted to scare me by telling me that you were pregnant.

Me: Did it work?

Mom: No, because it wouldn't be a big deal.

Me: Really? Even though I'm unmarried and in the beginning stages of a very demanding career and can barely afford my own living expenses?

Mom: But you're old. It's about time you had a baby anyway. I could help you take care of it.

Me: Thanks, mom.

Mom: Besides, I knew your brother was lying because you were home all summer, so there was no opportunity for you to get pregnant anyway. Hahaha.

Me: ...

END.

A Real Dilemma

Both Boston and New York got hit with snow this Halloween weekend, which made dressing up for the holiday a new dilemma for me and my brother.

Bro: Question. Do you think I could wear pants with my sailor outfit? Because it's snowing and I don't want to be walking through Brooklyn in short shorts.

Me: Sure. You could be like Gene Kelly from On the Town.

Bro: But I don't want to be that kind of sailor. I want to be a prepubescent boy sailor.

Me: Of course you do.

Bro: [trying on the costume as he's talking on the phone] Ugh, the costume really is much cuter without pants.

Me: Don't you have a long coat?

Bro: No.

Me: How about wearing pants to the party and then changing into the shorts in the bathroom?

Bro: That's too much trouble. Argh! My life is so difficult!

Me: [also trying on my costume while talking on the phone] Crap. I forgot how short this Strawberry Shortcake costume is. I'm going to freeze my ass off.

Bro: Fuck it, I'm just going to freeze my ass off.

Me: Snow really makes dressing slutty for Halloween rather difficult.

Bro: I know!

END.

Dad Keeps It Real

My brother, who works as an interior designer and project manager at a design firm, recently got his first set of business cards. To show them off, he sent some copies to mom and dad. This was their conversation.

Dad: This looks good! But how come it doesn't list your title? Is this fake?

Bro: No, dad. It's real.

Dad: How do we know your job isn't just to sweep the floors?

Bro: It's a very small office. No one sweeps the floor.

Dad: Maybe the secretary does.

Bro: The secretary doesn't have business cards.

Glad to know Dad maintains high expectations for us.

My Dad Wants a Nobel Prize in... Something

Phone conversation with my dad earlier this evening:

Me: Hey dad.

Dad: The Nobel Prize nominees are being announced this week. I'm waiting for my prize in Economics.

Me: Okay.

Dad: And if they call you for the Literature one, don't just tell them you're busy and hang up on them, okay?

Me: Haha, okay.

Dad: How's work?

Me: Good.

Dad: Busy?

Me: Always.

Dad: Are you going to protest in New York?

Me: I wish! I just don't have the time to make it over there right now. But I might get involved in the Boston ones.

Dad: Don't get into any trouble. Since you can't afford to get arrested, I'm sending mom out there to occupy Wall Street on your behalf.

END.