Welcome to the 21st Century Kristina Wong

April 8th, 2006

Ah yes! The days of clunky html files and resizing photos are over! Come and get me world! I have a freaking real blog! Thanks Wes Kim for being bored and geeky enough to set this up for me.

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Category: Blog

This isn’t Kristina…

April 8th, 2006

…it’s her friend Wes who’s setting up her new blog. She’ll be back soon though.

– Wes

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Category: Blog

Hallelujah! I didn’t die!

June 15th, 2005

Sorry it took a few days since the Aids Lifecycle 4 (ie “the World’s Most Insane Workout”) to update my site. I have been getting anxious emails and instant messages from friends that pretty much scream, “ARE YOU ALIVE?!!”

I don’t blame my friends for being worried for me. It was a rough week and I am a natural clutz and 555 miles of rocky pavement, hills, headwinds and crosswinds over 7 days is one suicidal undertaking! Especially when you don’t train properly! Like me!

But in the end– I did it! I was always one of the last cyclists rolling into camp, spending grueling 10-12 hour days on the road. My inflatable mattress deflated every night, and I woke up every morning with searing back pain and allover muscle soreness. My knees and hamstrings had almost given out completely after a couple of the days.

I found ways to use ice, ibuprofen, and medicated bandaids to “trick” my body into feeling like it wasn’t in as much pain as it was. But I am happy to say I biked all 555 miles and I DIDN’T DIE! More importantly, I also raised about $2900 from my generous sponsors to help people with HIV/AIDS.

My odometer at the end of the ride!

I made it through the week with no falls, no flats, and no collisions! And now I am officially a big badass!

If you are a cyclist, amateur or professional, I really recommend signing up for this. The Aids Lifecycle is like a cross between Burningman (minus the drugs, naked people, sex and extreme temperatures) and Gay adult summer camp.

And now… my photos!

Yep, June 4th, the day before ALC started marked another birthday for the Wongster. Here I am stabbing the shit out of my birthday cake in front of my family like the young psychopath that I am.

By the second day on the road, my face was getting so chapped that the medical team had to cover me with zinc oxide to prevent wind and sunburn. That stuff doesn’t dry and so as I rode my bike, flies were getting stuck to my face. So sexy. One of the roadies called out to me, “Hey Geisha Girl!” I replied, “Yeah, you wanna piece of this?”

Yes, the wounds of war. My legs were a nasty mess every day. Grease, bruises and bandages!

Cycling is a dirty sport, but I’m one Asian chick who would take a Cannondale over a Prada bag any day!

To keep us pumped and on the road, the roadies created hilarious rest stops with different themes. Here is the “Dollywood” rest stop where all the roadies dressed up as Dolly Parton.

At the top of the big hills were roadies and others cheering you on. Here is Ginger Brewlay, a fabulous drag queen who was waiting for cyclists at the top of “Quad Buster”– the hardest hill of the week. She even pushed cyclists uphill in heels!

At the end of Day 4 was the sign “Half Way to LA.” A nice reward for climbing “The Evil Twins”– another set of killer hills! It was so exciting! I couldn’t give up after getting to the sign!

The image of a man in drag publicly coating butt balm (to prevent chaffing) on his balls became commonplace about halfway through the week.

One of the most beloved cyclists on the Ride is Ken “The Chicken Lady” Tomason. She bikes in that outfit you see and she does five of these Aids Rides around the world per year. Everyone screams, “Yay! Chicken Lady!” when she goes by.

On the last day she laid a plastic egg filled with candy and a letter on each of the 1600 bikes. So cute!

My favorite day on the ride was Red Dress Day! The idea is that all the cyclists wear read and resemble a red ribbon wrapping around the California roads.

The men got way more into it than the women. They had on some sharp outfits! And they looked better than us too! There were men biking around in red bras! What was so funny was we were traveling through these small conservative towns too!

Here is one of my favorite dresses from that day. A full on Southen Belle dress complete with floral hat afixed to helmet and a bustle! And a string of pearls to add some class!

My filmmaker friend Mike is awesome! He and his girlfriend Nancy sat on lawn chairs at the beach near the end of the ride waiting for me with signs. Their signs read “Aids Riders Rock!” and one for me that said “Wong Rolls.”

I felt so loved!

Here I am right after crossing the finish line. I was like, “Did that just happen?” I couldn’t believe I just spent the last seven days of my life traveling to LA by bicycle!

It was like it was just a dream.

Here I am in my Olympic moment! I used a pretty heavy bike for this ride, but made sure it was light enough for me to hold over my head for this picture!

And below, just some of the many reasons why I pray that God will make me a gay man. Oh, such a cruel vengeful god he is.

There was this great running joke all week that ALC is a feeding frenzy for hot gay men, except because everyone has been sitting on bikes all week, nobody had working “equipment” which effectively prevented any kind of orgy like activities. I must say that there was quite a long line at the men’s showers though.


Anyway, my life has changed for sure. I spent an entire week being extremely focused on nothing but the road. I didn’t think about my life last week or next week, I was just in the moment, trying to finish the ride one pedal stroke at a time. Bikes are really amazing inventions. As much pain as I was in while doing the ride, it didn’t diminish my love for bikes one bit. In fact it makes me feel like anything is possible in life!

I have been having bike-related nightmares every night though. Most of them have to do with trying to get from one place to another by bike in a short amount of time. It’s weird.

And my body is still sore. I can’t unscrew a bottle of water! That’s how much my hands hurt from holding the handlebars of my bike!

Anyway, sad to say, while I will keep up my bike training, I probably won’t be doing this ride every year, maybe more like every few years. If I had the time, I would totally do this each year, but the rest of this year seems to roll on with more busy-ness! I have my grad school residency in Vermont coming up, my presentations and performances in New York! I also got awarded a small summer residency at UCLA to work on my new solo show! Details to emerge!

Life is great!

Bike on brothers and sisters!



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Category: Blog

You may have gotten Bush elected, but bitch, I got your tampons…

January 19th, 2005

Screw all ya’all who say that Kristina Wong is all talk and no action. Why ? Because I am in Washington DC right now tearing up the town for inaugruation. I flew in this morning and the first thing I said when I stepped off the plane was, “Oh my god.”

Why? Because it’s snowing and it is less than 20 degrees out. That’s why. No wonder all those pilgrims died. They settled on the wrong side of America. Good thing I went and bought thermal underwear yesterday. Actually, I went everywhere looking for it. I went to Marshalls and they didn’t have it– I think that counts as “everywhere.” I ended up going to Army Surplus for it, they were the only ones in Los Angeles who sell thermals. It was so crazy, my air conditioning was on last night before I left, and now the heat at my friend Reina’s house here in DC is in overdrive.

It’s cold here, but not as bad as San Francisco over winter break. For some reason that felt colder. Mostly because my parents are misers who don’t turn on the heat and I spend winter breaks there sleeping in a fetus shape, crying for the pain to be over.

Anyway, it’s pretty exciting to be here. I’ve never flown somewhere to be a part of a demonstration. But I figure, in the 60′s the hippies all jumped into vans and drove to California. So what’s the equivalent of that in 2005? I guess it means to take time off of work, fly to DC to protest inaugruation, and then go back to work on Monday. My boss is cool, I was scared he’d get mad that I was taking some time off of work to be here, but turns out he’s going to be here too for some meetings and to protest. That’s what’s great about working for a non-profit– we’re all being fucked by the man and when it comes to activism, taking time off is just part of helping everyone keep their job.

I’m here to do some street actions with the Billionaires for Bush, they are having a huge national convergence this weekend where in a “strategic planning” type mode we try to figure out new pranks to play on the right.

So, anyway, I am staying with Reina. And tonight the only actions that we knew of via the web was an action that Code Pink was doing with some of the Billionaires to protest at this thing called “The Black Tie and Boots Ball”– basically a big party with scary ass Texas Republicans at a swanky hotel. Dubya even made an appearance early on in the evening at this ball.

Reina was dealing with her ingrown toenail and so we weren’t able to go to the Code Pink action when it started. Instead we got there two hours later when there were only trickles of Code Pink activists left who said they were freezing and going to leave since they’d been out there protesting for two hours already. They also said a bunch of the Billionaires had just left. There were some college kids hanging around, maybe protesting, but not really. There were also a handful of activists on the street corner. No signs, some had buttons on, not very visible. They would shout things to the partiers going in like “Hey, people died, enjoy the party.” Not much of an oppositional presence that I could tell. Many of the people attending the party were dressed in cowboy hats and ball gowns. Some of the women were looking so dumb, walking around the wet snowy streets in strappy heels, slipdresses and NOOOO jacket. I was wearing a thick fur coat and a skirt with tube socks and two layers of long undies under my sequined gown.

So like a good activist who was all dressed up, I held my sign up proud. The only billionaire in sight. I screamed to the partiers as they went in, “Hey, good golf game last week!” and “Don’t let these liberal activists here get you down, bloodshed and death are just euphemisms for ‘profit’!”

Some dodo liberals got mad at me because they thought that I was a real republican. One lady seemed to get what I was doing but started to try to get into an argument with me like I was really oppressing her. That was weird and freaking me out a bit. But the press went nuts. I think they were all independent press, and at one point I had three cameras rolling on me.

It was kind of crazy that nobody was keeping an eye on the demonstrators below the hotel (where we were). Had there been more of us, we could have really gone nuts. Like really nuts, and made a huge impact. There just wasn’t enough security outside the hotel in my opinion. Something we could have really taken more advantage of.

At the point when I was screaming at the top of my lungs in the street, “I’m rich! I’m rich! And I love to golf!” to the people entering the party, I realized that no security type folk gave a shit what I was doing. There were however, some lame-os who gave me the finger and said, “Get a Life” to which I responded, “I’m rich like you!”

So I climbed the side of the hill by the hotel, in my sequined dress mind you, and screamed some more at a higher vantage point about how filthy rich I was to the people entering the party below. It was so nuts. I was like this deranged creature. I love it.

Anyway, after a while we were tired, Reina was like, “Let’s go.” The crowd entering had died down and I had run out of stuff to scream about and we were both tired anyway. But I needed to pee and was like, “I’m going to see if I can pee in the hotel.” So I left Reina outside with my cameras and sign and went looking for an entrance to the hotel to go pee. The only entrance was the party’s entrance where people were checking in, getting wristbands, and being checked meticulously to enter.

So basically, without a ticket, dressed like a big dumbass, I walked in. Right past the security, trailing along behind a couple going through the revolving doors, through the metal detectors and right into the party. I couldn’t believe it.

I actually crashed a party!

(an ariel view of the horror.)

Of course, I didn’t have my camera on me when I was in there. And there was no way that Reina would be able to meet me inside with my camera. I did have my phone with a camera to try to capture some of what I saw. But my pics are pretty blurry. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just like feeling like a mole at a really strange convention where there was a lot of botox and people dressed up in cowboy hats. Oh yeah, and they were all Bush supporters from Texas– the scariest kind.

I got in line for the bathroom. I overhead a conversation a woman was having about when her father first met Bush.

(here i am in line.)

I felt so totally conspicuous. I was wearing a cheapass plastic tiara with feathers on my head, I have unsophisticated pink highlights in my hair, a ridiculous blue fur collar, a huge vinyl gold tote bag that my mom got as a freebie from a jewelry store, two sets of long underwear and knee highs hanging out from the slit of my sequined silver skirt, and pink polka dot galloshes. And to top it off, I was like one of three Asians there at this huge event.

Then I looked around at the women in line for the bathroom. And it hit me like a brick why it was so easy for me to get in.

BECAUSE THEY WERE ALL DRESSED TACKIER THAN ME. These women were horrendous fashionistas. Do a yahoo search for photos and see for yourself. It was too easy for me to get in considering.

So anyway, I went to pee and someone left a corset hanging on the bathroom door, I ran out to the bathroom and called out “Someone left their corset”, putting it on the sink. Then I peed.

I was trying to think of what I could do to really take advantage of the fact that I got into this party. I had to leave soon, because Reina was freezing outside waiting for me. So how could I take advantage of my being an unwanted guest at this party to make a political impact?

Here are some of the ideas I came up with while peeing…

– Flood the toilet by flushing all the TP down so that the lines in the bathroom are even longer and the women have to deal with a puddle in the bathroom. (nah, that might backfire on me and I’d just get in trouble.)

– Create a huge scene, stand on a table and start praising John Kerry. (nah, don’t have the guts, plus could get arrested and miss tomorrow’s events)

– Drink all the alcohol at the party so that nobody has anything to drink (nah, would pass out after two beers, then Reina would really get mad at me.)

– Steal someone’s purse and ruin their night and life (nah, that’s not right.)

I washed my hands. Noticed the corset I placed on the sink counter was still unclaimed. Also I noticed that there was a huge basket of toiletries put out as a courtesy to the women.

In one frantic retalitory motion, I grabbed the corset, threw it into my big gold totebag, then swept all the tampons (about 6 of them) in one pass into my bag as well. Then I stormed out of the bathroom.

I still remember the women as I left, their eyes asking, Did that Asian lady just throw the corset and all the tampons in her purse?

As I left the party into that frosty DC night, I thought about all those Texas republicans at the party who might be menustrating, who would spot all over their fine silk dresses without those tampons, or who would have conspicuous bulges in their dresses for the rest of the night, having to rely on pads to protect them. Yes, that’s what they get for supporting Bush. No Kotex for them. Not if I could help it.

(me holding the goods)

Reina was waiting for me in the underground stop. I came down the escalator like Homer did after being at war for 30 some odd years. My eyes a new glow from what I had just seen up at that razzle dazzle hotel party. I held the corset and tampons up to her like a proud warrior back from fighting in the fields. They were my bounty. My warprize. The kill from the hunt.

She nodded, proud. Approving of my heroics.

Then she said, “Let’s go home now. I’m tired.”


Wish me luck tomorrow. More mischief to be made. We auction off Social Security at the FDR memorial at 10am, attempts to join the inaugural festivities, then a Billionaires Ball at night.


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Category: Blog

Kristina WAS a GUEST STAR on ER!

April 6th, 2004

In the spirit of lame self-indulgent actor sites, I thought I would create a page dedicated to my brief and wordless appearance on ER in early 2003. I am slowly collecting pictures of different people watching me portray the role of the “RECOVERY NURSE”– a challenging character for me. I believe I portrayed her as compassionate, loving, and sincere. The “Recovery Nurse” is dedicated to fulfilling her job and serving the community with compassion and grace.

Do you have pictures of you watching me on ER? Send them to me!

Here is my mom watching me on ER. She’s so excited because the image quenches her fantasy that one day I will enroll in med school.

Here my mom smiles with my image as the camera pans away from my face forever. She smiles as if proud to say: “This is my daughter, and she is going to be a doctor.”

Here are my friends Dave and Ari who I forced to sit this close to the TV to watch me on ER.

Here is Ari pointing to me on the screen. She wants to be close to me. As if to say, “That’s my friend and she is so famous.”

Here is my friend Dave, blushing because he knows me and I am so famous.

The black beam on the TV that covers my face is a metaphor for the pain and trauma that flows through the life of the hospital.

Here is a shot of me pointing to my hand which enters the frame. The bare hand in frame is a metaphor for the hand of compassion that the medical staff offers the hospital patients.

Watch as Ari tries to reach through the screen, much like the compassion of the staff reaches through all the people who come in through the doors of the hospital needing help.

Here in LA, my glamourous 13″ TV/ VCR combo with Radio Shack antenna becomes the vessel for fascination for my friend Patty.

My performance is so real that Patty tries to talk to me through the screen.

And even though I try to play as compassionate and sincere a role as possible, Patty recognizes the sex appeal I have when wearing scrubs.

Kim Char is transfixed. He cannot believe how famous I am.

My Oscar worthy portrayal of the “Recovery Nurse” has him awed, shocked, and reeling for more.

He attempts to reach through the screen because for a moment he forgets that it is just a TV show. The acting is just that good that he thinks there is a real person there.

At once the image of me as the unconditional loving RECOVERY NURSE transforms into a Christ-like icon, that he must kiss and be humbled by.

Miles watches me with the lights turned out to see how Poltergeist-like my performance can be.

My performance has multiple layers and levels and can have dramatic or horror like effects on the viewer.

Miles believes that I am a real person there and tries to see if he can peek behind my ear as if it is in 3-D. The performance is just that real.

Randall Park, famous comedian and actor on Fastlane is humbled to watch my award winning performance. He takes notes on how he can be a better actor by studying every millimeter of my portrayal of the recovery nurse.

Randy savors those last lingering seconds of my hand leaving the frame. A forever memory he will cheerish and tell his children about.

World famous fashion designer and Karaoke champion, Sky, relocated to Los Angeles from Oregon to be closer to my famous self. He points to my image much like the Apostles of the Bible did when Christ was resurrected.

Roger Fan, star of MTV Films’ “Better Luck Tomorrow” is truly struck by my acting chops, and must remove his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye. He watches the screen shaking his head and muttering, “Brilliant, simply brilliant. In fact, more brilliant than that movie I was in.”

Roger is reminded of the compassion of his mother with the grace I bestow on the screen. “This is the greatest acting class I could ever imagine. This is the greatest acting class I could have hoped for. Thank you Kristina, for sharing this moment with me,” he says continuing to shake his head inbetween spurts of thoughtful laughter.

Oliver, dirty cat and king of felines, is silenced by my daring performance that has crossover appeal to all creatures of the Animal Kingdom.

Livia, former Miss Chinatown San Francisco and Rose Ball Pageant Queen, and her dog Cassius are awestruck by the raw emotion of the moment. “If you ran for Miss Chinatown Kristina, you could show this clip for your talent portion and you’d win the pageant instantly,” Livia utters with complete sincerity.

Even though the camera has panned away from my image forever, Livia insists that my presence is still there on her television screen. She points to my imprint that remains forever like the sacred imprint of Jesus’ face on the Shroud of Turin

My high school classmate, Annaliza who is an aspiring physical therapist treats my performance as an actual medical practicioner’s training video. Annaliza must watch many videos as part of her training to become a physical therapist. She mistook this performance as coming from the video chapter entitled: “How to treat your patients with sincerity, kindness, and above all, humility.”

Matt Abaya, horror filmmaker extraordinaire, a man who mind you has seen it all is shaken with fear at the tension that my performance creates between the two doctors standing beside me. “Even though the doctors may be exchanging the dialogue, it is you Kristina, who rips our attention away from them and brings us into the subtext of the dark reality of this hospital. This scene revolves around your presence more than anything else,” he says while clutching the television for dear life.

Gennifer M. Hirano, asianprincess, retired burlesque dancer, educator, performance artist, and photographer is also brought to her knees by my performance. She begins to recite hail marys before realizing that she is not in a church before God, but in my parents’ den watching me portray a compassionate recovery nurse on TV. “Excuse me Kristina, it was such a religious experience, I lost all sense of space and time.” She then cries and tells me about her mother, because of her mother’s compassion that my performance is so reminiscent of.

Recovering from her initial spiritual revolution, Gennifer comments at how good my hair looks.

Norm, my DSL repairman, came into my house and said immediately, “I used to work in Bel Air where I would fix the DSL of some very famous people. But I get the premonition that today is the day I fix the DSL of someone more famous than shit.”

I proceeded to show him this clip of me on ER and he said, “Even just listening to the vibrations of the performance gives me the power to fix DSL faster and better than ever. Thank you for this gift my child.”

Bernard, my neighbor and future urban planner watches my clip and thinks aloud, “If only the urban planners of the world could see what I see now! They would build more efficient cities, faster bullet trains, more environmentally sustainable means to dispose waste. We could prolong the life of our natural resources. If the urban planners of the world could see what I see now, they would, in short, build a better world.”

Then a tear fell down his cheek.

Todd, a very famous political satirist and webmaster of a famous but unnamable website, points to my image and declares, “This. This inspires me. This is an almalgam of the world’s passion, love, hate, anger, and sympathy rolled into one stunning performance. It is Christ. The Savior. Salvation…And goddamn you have really nice hair in this shot Kristina.”

Mike Closson, one of my favorite movie directors says, “Now if only this clip was available in times of pre-colonialism, then perhaps we could have stopped the Europeans from colonizing the world. This clip demonstrates compassion. This clip could have taught them to love and share the wealth. But most importantly, it would have taught them to aspire for a better world. One without violence. One with a great spirit.”

Yessica, my visitor from South America, who flew in just to see this clip in my home screamed, “Dios Mios Es Jesu!” at the sight of me on the screen.

I am not sure what it means, but I have never seen a woman cry with such joy.

Marcus, a visitor who came all the way from Germany on a pilgrimage for the now famous clip, demands to watch the clip with the lights turned out.

“I don’t need to watch this performance with the lights on,” Marcus says, “for the light of your performance is all the light I need in this world.”

Then tears fell down his cheek much like the crying Madonna statues.

“This journey was worth it. I can now build a greater world now that I have seen you on ER.”

Amos, a famous Victim’s Assistant from Texas, came all the way to my place to view my image in ER. He was stunned silent and then uttered through tears, “Howdy, Kristina. This is better than a rodeo!”

Amos recalls a famous Texan proverb while my image plays and it goes like this: “He who drills oil, becomes rich. He who rides horse, performs in rodeo. She who is a recovery nurse on ER, is immortal.”

My neighbor Jeff came by and said, “Hey Kristina, I heard you were famous and on ER. I showed him this clip and he said, “Holy shit! I had no idea that someone so famous lived near me, I think I will have to move as I don’t deserve to live so close to someone so famous. I think I am going to move to hmmm…. I know… Rochester, NY!. until I become worthy of being your neighbor again!”

Jeff watches with enthusiasm as my hand passes through the frame. He says, “I am a father of two, and never has the image of a single hand passing through the frame taught me the compassion required to be a proper and loving father. Thank you Kristina, thank you for this gift.”

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