I have so many friends. So many!
379, to be exact, although the number keeps fluctuating up and down by 1. Someone, or more than one someones, must be defriending me and then refriending me every few days. I can’t figure out who it is, mostly because I have too many friends to figure out who it is.
378, 379, 378, 379.
What have I done? What did I say?
Sometimes I write cheeky, know-it-all updates. Sometimes I swear. Sometimes I promote myself. Perhaps it is unseemly.
Please come to my reading at the Soggy Pumpkin. Please look at pictures of me and my boyfriend at the botanical garden. Please check out my blurry, dimly lit self-portraits, in which I am wearing a sultry and/or intellectually despondent expression on my face. Please “like” this adorable photo of my dog asleep with a lemon perched atop his head.
Is this so bad? Does this warrant my defriending?
If so, how is it that, in the next day or two, I manage to win this person back? Do they simply wander into a corner of their house in the middle of the night and rethink their hasty decision? Or is it because they miss me?
“I wonder what Debbie Kuan is up to right this very second.”
“I wonder if Debbie Kuan changed her profile picture today.”
“I wonder what New York Times link Debbie Kuan is telling me I have to read this morning. Certainly no article I could find on my own, given that the New York Times is my homepage on Internet Explorer and I read it three times a day.”
I have a number of other Facebook pages and profiles which, until now, you probably did not know were mine. Now you will know: Winter Kuan. Hamsterball Kuan. Eating While Walking. The Biggest Underwear. I Don’t Clean My Shower Curtain, I Just Throw It Out. Summer Kuan. George Sand.
They are all good pages. I am really pleased that I thought of them.
378, 379, 378, 379.
The other day, I ordered The Social Network on OnDemand, and it was even worse than the first time I saw it in the theater. My main problem is with the Asian girlfriend. The hot Asian girlfriend. First she is sex-hungry. Then she is glamour-and-money-hungry. And then she tries to set Andrew Garfield’s room on fire.
She tries to set Andrew Garfield’s room on fire??
I think this is supposed to mean that, not only are Asian women intense in school and in bed, but their PMS is also a million times more unpredictable than a white woman’s. We will get you to call back, goddammit! We will set your sorry ass on fire! And of course, you hate us, but you LOVE to hate us, which is what makes it all so hot.
Especially since you are so vulnerable. You are conscientious and entrepreneurial, and you write algorithms on windows. You are a good man. You are Andrew Garfield, the kid who played the retarded organ-donor in Never Let Me Go! What else could you be?
Hot, Jealous Asian Woman with PMS + Vulnerable White Man with Talents = Fireworks
(By the way, ex-boyfriend-who-shall-remain-nameless, I only smashed up your iPad with a hammer because, while on your two-day “business” trip, it took you nearly 3.5 hours after landing to call me. Three and a half hours?? Who are you kidding, buster?
Wait a minute. Are you the one who keeps defriending and refriending me? Just to make me as crazy as you’d like to think I am?)
Back to what I was saying. I do think that this was an extremely deft career move on Garfield’s part: to play a mentally-retarded innocent sentenced to die before playing a Harvard overachiever cheated of his fortune. It is very Flowers for Algernon, at once soliciting horror and awe at the human predicament. Are we not all sentenced to die? Are we not all cheated of our fortunes? Are we not all mentally retarded overachievers?
378, 379, 378, 379.
Always be dumb first and smart second. Nobody will buy it the other way around.
That will be my status update for today. Friend me, and you will be able to read it!
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