February 28th, 2012
I could go on and on in an unpaid fashion about how as of last week I’m a cat-less cat lady, or how I changed my last name on facebook to reflect my mental marriage to Jeremy Lin… Or I can link you to blogs on other websites about the same subjects.
Enjoy my first blog for xoJane about how I’m sexually harassing Jeremy Lin.
I’m a working blogger!
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Category: cat lady, cat pee, loser, neediness., no more dong, sex is unnecessary when you have yarn.
February 29th, 2008
The Photoshop sham that is my headshot?
I just had a callback for the commercial I was “scouted” for. In my last post, I described being scouted for the role I was apparently born to play.
The role was a frumpy Chinese waitress with lots of pimples.
And it’s been a funny story and all, but I can’t help but think from people’s reactions (veering more on the “Well that’s Hollywood for you” rather than “What! You are gorgeous! You aren’t frumpy and ugly Kristina!”) that maybe I am a really really really ugly and horrible looking human being.
I mean, I was able to laugh it off AT FIRST, but I’m feeling from people’s reactions, and this whole experience with these commercial auditions, coupled with enough bad awkward girl memories to fill a lifetime— that maybe I really am that ugly looking person and have yet to embrace it.
And here I thought I was hot all these years. Here I had thought that I had a decent rack, nice body and a great smile. Was I wrong? Am I an ugly person?
As I drove back from the callback and looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I had the most horrible thought in the world.
This is the most horrible thought in the world…
“I am so ugly. I do not deserve to be loved.”
Then one by one. I got flooded with more terrible thoughts and horrible memories. Maybe my mother was right when she told me as a kid that I should be on the radio, not TV. (She’s long since taken that statement back, btw, and is fully supportive of my career.) Maybe I will die alone and unloved. Maybe I’ll never be in a relationship again. Maybe my true calling is as the cat lady persona I keep mocking ironically. Maybe I should change careers and work in a dark room, alone, where nobody would have to look at me. Ever.
Because I am so hideously homely.
It’s such a horrible feeling to look at yourself and feel like you can’t be loved. Because everybody deserves love.
EVERYBODY. The frumpy and the pimply included. Do you hear me!? We all deserve love!!!
I shook myself out of this funk pretty quickly when I realized that there will always be someone who loves me.
“Hey! There’s someone who no matter what, will cheerish and adore me!”
And that someone doesn’t care if I have a frumpy day! Or get a pimple!
I smiled to myself in the mirror, that old familiar smile when I realized that someone in life does love me.
Who will always love me for who I am do you ask?
Gross and creepy old white men with large collections of Samurai swords, with a sizable Asian fetish, who jerk off to Asian porn and go on sex tour trips to Asia!
They will always find me beautiful and love me!
Yay for them! They will always love me. No matter how frumpy or pimply I get.
Come and get me fellas! Here I am!
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Category: a shot at love with kristina wong, cat lady, dying alone, hollywood wong, loser, losing my mind in los angeles, sex is unnecessary when you have yarn.
January 7th, 2008
Saturday night I was lounging around the room with nobody to go out with and decided that “Hey, I’m a big girl. I can go out alone.” I got dressed and drove myself down towards the beach where all the clubs supposedly are. I’ve never gone dancing or to a bar alone. It seems semi-loserish and dangerous, especially in a town I don’t live in, but the cabin fever was going to kill me more.
I park the car, wander towards one of the hotels where these security guards are standing and ask naively, “Excuse me. What is this?” (You know, not wanting to crash a private party.)
“It’s the Skybar.”
“Oh, a club?”
“How much is it?”
The security people laugh at me.
They open the elastic barrier and let me in.
I compensate, “Sorry! I’m from out of town.”
So I’m standing there at this bar/club nursing my tiny $15 (wtf!) cape cod and thinking, “I hope I figure out how to make some friends or something before I have to buy another $15 drink.” There’s no dancing at this club for me to hide myself in. So I’m just standing there, taking in this amazing joint (the clubs on South Beach are mega swank because they are all part of the hotels. Like the Standard, except larger and with better furniture.)
Anyway, so this Korean guy comes up to me and is like, “I’m looking for my friend. He’s 6’3″ and Dominican. How am I going to find him here?”
And I’m so relieved that someone is talking to me, and at a non-creepy yet somehow strategic 45 degree angle. And I’m especially excited that this Korean guy is talking to me because I had passed him seconds before thinking, “I wonder what that Korean guy is doing in South Beach.” So we talk about being Asian in Miami and what each of us is doing there.
And suddenly, like three minutes into the conversation, I’m totally swooning.
The whole conversation is all too slick. His friend swoops in and is like “Hey, kiss him on the cheek.”
It’s all too familiar. Like I’ve read this in a book or seen it on a tv show….
I’m like, “Wait a second. Have you seen the Pick Up Artist on VH1?”
“Oh yea! I watch that show religiously.”
“You know, I got a ride to the airport from Spoon and Brady.”
“You’ve taken a Pick-up workshop haven’t you?”
“Actually. I have.”
I’m jumping up and down wagging my finger and screaming!
“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! I knew it!! I knew it! I know all these tricks! I knew this was all familiar.”
Anyway, he was smooth, gorgeous, and works as a diplomat. And even if he was totally awkward and untrained in the ways of approaching a woman, I would have talked to him. He wasn’t wearing aviation goggles or a fur hat. He was just well dressed. And he’s taken workshops from Tyler Durden (the anarchy-ish PUA revolutionary) and Mystery. It felt really weird to be part of some script, and I kept questioning his sincerity.
But he wasn’t as choppy as the guys from the show who seemed to work with a lot of canned material. And we had a good talk about the Pick Up community and “The Game” by Neil Strauss. I kept calling him on every thing I could recognize. I started mocking him by stroking my hair and squealing, “Look buddy! An IOI!” (Indicator of interest.) He takes my hand and whispers in my ear, “Ok, let’s help Juan get a girl.” Suddenly we are winging his friend. It was crazy watching these two guys scan a room and funny to be part of it. I was like a live action DVD commentary, making smart remarks the whole time.
He was like, “Kristina, can you turn that off?”
I was like, “Can you turn it off?”
What a trip. I got “opened” by a professional pick up artist. And I kinda thought this might happen because there are pick up artists all over this place. It was an experience. And I’m glad of it.
I think my fascination with the whole Pick Up Artist community is that they do what I do in ways– site specific performance, culture jamming, and performing gender. They don’t do it to the same effect that I do, as their work lacks the social commentary, and they aren’t going to get grants to pick up women. But I think the fact that men pay thousands of bucks to learn how to denote their high value (DHV they call it), create conversations that add exciting information (kind of like a good improv), and use a lot of tactics from the sales world (to “close” in PUA speak) says a lot about how much men need companionship as much as women.
He and I, we’re both performers.
He said he might come to my show. Perhaps, this is my tactic to make sure I fill that 400 seat theater. I will stand around at clubs and mock pick up artists and guilt them to coming to my show.
So for my mother and others who wonder if there was a love connection…. Nah, everyone knows that my dream man is that guy I’ve been sending letters to in prison who will be getting out in 5 to 10. I hold out for only the best.
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Category: loser, reality tv, Spoon, the pick up artist, Vh1
February 16th, 2007
Wow, last night was so weird. My friend Anida called me because I seemed so depressed over the cat pee thing on IM and we agreed that I had the right to have a crappy day and do nothing. Considering how hard I work, it was ok to spend a day of moping around the house.
And I always have my disgusting yarn stash to keep me company. Diana took a small bag of yarn off my hands. We are going to trade for headshots. I got enough yarn to trade for headshots until I can play elderly. These pics below only feature like 1/4 of my problem.
there’s a woman in stockton with carpal tunnel who liquidated all of this for pennies on the dollar to me. i couldn’t say no.
the sad stash tucked behind the couch.
the stash in my office.
So I have decided that it doesn’t matter that I’m still hot and in my 20s and am the cat pee yarn hoarding lady. So what if other people my age are dating other hot people and partying while I’m crocheting baby blankets and writing grants? Dammit! Having sex, or a relationship, or even friends is unnecessary when you have YARN!!! My life is awesome! And I’m happy being a big hermit with my crochet hook.
Nobody can hook a beanie with an I hook the way Kristina Wong can! I’m the best hooker, this side of my building! Long live the sexy crocheter!!!
Life is awesome. Being a single cat lady who owns a cat who pees on you is awesome! Yarn is awesome! and I AM AWESOME.
(I chant this as I wipe a tear from my eye).
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Category: cat lady, cat pee, crochet, empowerment, hot people, loser