stuffed in a coffin 10% more free

Oi. I'm so tired. The cook must have basted the turkey in NyQuil and stuffed it with horse tranquilizers.

For the second year in a row, I spent Thanksgiving away from home. Last year, I had to stay in Los Angeles for a Weezer show the day after Thanksgiving, so my family drove down from the Bay Area to spend the holiday with me and my incredibly rich cousins. This year, I didn't start looking for cheap plane tickets until it was too late (re: August), and I'd be crazy to spend $250 to visit some place for two or three days. Oh wait…

My parents said that if I was gonna stay in Los Angeles for Thanksgiving, I should at least have dinner with some family friends who were driving down to spend time with their parents and daughter who attends UCSD and grew into a noice set of tits since I last saw her.

Is it a rule that every Thanksgiving, some network has to air Home Alone? I always find myself watching that movie. This Thanksgiving, I also saw Home Alone 2 on one of the many HBO channels. When Home Alone 2 came out, I thought it was more entertaining than the original. I was 10. Watching it again as a 20-year-old intellectual, I realized how mean-spirited it is for a Christmas movie. It was kinda painful to watch Harry and Marv suffer the whimsical wrath of Macaulay Culkin. Bricks, a staple gun, jumper cables, gasoline — that's awfully violent stuff for a kid to be subjecting adults to, even if they may be criminals. They're still human beings, after all.

Near the end of the movie, Kevin climbs down from the roof of the gimmicked house using a kerosene-soaked rope and then sets said rope afire as Harry and Marv use it to climb down from the roof in pursuit of him. If Kevin just climbed down using a kerosene-soaked rope, wouldn't his hands and clothing have traces of kerosene on them? And wouldn't he burn himself as well in setting fire to the rope? John Hughes obviously did not think this out.

I actually got teary-eyed during the scene in which Kevin reunites with his mother in front of the Rockefeller Center tree. Yeah, I got teary-eyed. Like Ja Rule, I'm man enough to admit that I cry.

rob schneider is "the stapler"

america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam sieg heil america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam sieg heil america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam america is the great satan death to america bomb the mall destroy the statue of liberty we shall overcome george bush long live bin laden long live saddam sieg heil

Let that filter into Google. Tom Ridge, come and get me.

cleaning out my closet

I can't seem to go anywhere without seeing him. I saw him at a sushi place. I saw him at a screening of The Ring. I see his column mugshot in the school paper. And last Saturday, I stood in line right behind him outside the Egyptian.

If we lived in the Middle Ages, I could just kill him in a field and regain peace of mind. Alas, in the modern world, I can only bitterly refuse to acknowledge his presence without getting arrested.

What do you do when a person you hate haunts you wherever you go?

previously on

[on Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone]
Paul: I enjoyed it.
Paul: It was delightful.
Paul: You need to have read the book to appreciate it.
Paul: It's funny how they teased romance between Harry and Hermione because Harry goes for Cho Chang instead in book four and Ron and Hermione end up together. YES, Ron and Hermione!!!
Paul: Judging by the first [Star Wars movie], I'm not gonna like Attack of the Clones.

On Friday, I saw Spider-Man with my pro-Spider-Man anti-Star Wars friend Paul. Unsurprisingly, he loved the movie and wouldn't stop gushing about it after the screening.


Paul: Spider-Man will be nominated for "best visual effects" next year, but Lord of the Rings will win.

Ouch. That hurts. He went out of his way to push my buttons. When I tried to rebut, he quickly cut me off.

Paul: [yelling] Jonathan Yu, I'm sick and tired of hearing your bullshit! I know more than you think I do!

I gave up.

Jon: Look. You're obviously biased about Spider-Man and I'm biased about Star Wars. Let's just leave it at that.

one minute later

Paul: I saw Life as a House. I wasn't impressed with Hayden Christensen's performance. He can't act.

[sigh] I'm gonna eat it big time if Episode II sucks.

Guess who's seeing Episode II tonight?

………….my friend Paul.

This is the same Paul who said:
Paul: George Lucas can suck it. That little hack.
Paul: The actors he uses are always much better in other movies. That speaks volumes to me.

He interns at KIIS-FM, the local top 40 radio station, and somehow got the hook up.

I know he's seeing the movie just to spite me. He never does anything alone, dependent sumbitch that he is, unless it's something that he thinks will hurt me when I hear about it. Moreover, based on early reviews, it sounds like Episode II kicks (spider) ass, but I know Paul will somehow find a way to put a negative spin on things, no pun intended. [sigh] I tire of his unrequited competitiveness.

I love Star Wars. (Go ahead and groan. I love wrestling too. Groan groan groan.)
I've waited three years for a new Star Wars movie.
My pants get crustier every day as May 16 approaches.
That's all I ask.

To think, I agreed to share an apartment with this guy next year. I'm starting to reconsider. Here's to living alone.

I never did get that apartment with him.

One day, the manager of the rental office left a message on my machine agreeing to rent us the apartment that Paul really wanted, and I deleted the message, later feigning ignorance when he found out that we were passed over for other people because we didn't return the manager's call. He immediately called his dad to whine. I…pretended to care.

So I'm passive aggressive. At least I'm not a fag like Paul.


I have to be careful with what I say here because I've been in deep shit before in high school over libel. Made a lot of nemeses as a result of it. In fact, two years after I left high school, Howard informed me that Ms. Price (one of the people responsible for screwing me over) told her journalism class that she wanted a poster of me so that she could put it up on the classroom wall and hit it. TWO YEARS OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL! Well, fuck you too. Anyway, I have a new nemesis to talk about.

In August, Paul, our friend Elizabeth and I went to see One Hour Photo and inside the theater before the movie started, I casually mentioned that he still owed me $50 and it had already been a couple months.

After the movie, Liz and I wanted to go to Del Taco. Paul reluctantly agreed to drive us there, only to sit at the booth while we ate bitching about how he didn't see what was so great about Del Taco and that he'd choose Baja Fresh over Del Taco any day. I fired back by bringing up a bunch of in-jokes between Liz and I, shutting Paul up, if just for a short while. One particular in-joke referenced something on the site, to which Paul replied, "So Liz, tell me about that post. I haven't been to in loooong time."

We then decided to go to Paul's place, and on the ride there, while an American Idol mixtape played on the car soundsystem, Paul proceeded to lecture Liz and I on who, exactly, would win the American Idol contest. I opted not to say anything, knowing that "who the fuck cares?" would not win this argument.

At Paul's place, we were watching his free digital cable (for six months with a subscription to basic cable) when I remarked, "Hey Paul, in five months, I guess you're gonna be over at Liz's place a lot watching her MTV2 and MuchMusic, eh?" because all he watches is music videos and MTV doesn't play music videos. Minutes after I said that, he suddenly decided to drive Liz and I home. Mind you, we hadn't asked to leave yet.

At Liz's place, Paul offered to fix her television reception. Once he did so, we watched some TV and then Paul got up and said, "I'm gonna leave now. Oh and Jon, don't be so rude to me!" As he walked out of the apartment, he added, "And don't expect to get your $50 back anytime soon!"

I have a feeling I won't ever get that money back.

Truth be told, I don't care that much about the money — Sarah Madden still owes me $50 for a Radiohead ticket I gave her two years ago — it's the way Paul handled the situation that pisses me off.

"Don't expect to get your $50 back anytime soon!" Is that a challenge? Do you want me to pursue you day and night through the streets of Los Angeles for reimbursement?

Liz said that it was rude of me to bring up his debt in a public place. In my defense, I didn't say it to fuckin' attack his honor or anything. Who am I? Shylock? Understand that my mind wanders and that I usually don't think before I speak. I just happened to remember at the time that he owed me money. Nothing personal. I'm sorry if my voice carries. As for the rest of the things I said or did that day, I think I'm better off not associating with someone who's sensitive about stupid shit like digital cable and Del Taco.

Paul used to tell me that he took everything I said at face value because he really trusted me. Dude, I told you many times over that you were gay! Why didn't you take THAT at face value? I mean, you have "the voice", you sit with your legs crossed female-style, you don't "get" Jackass, you prefer to watch art house movies and love the work of Baz Lurhmann (Moulin Rouge), your favorite TV show is Will & Grace, you only listen to pop music, especially Britney Spears and Robbie Williams, you like to sing, you like musical theater, you're extremely close to your sister, and Liz found fuckin' GAY PORN on your laptop when she borrowed it! But you insist you're not gay. Let me tell you, that chick you've been hanging out with lately ain't fooling anyone.

Everything I say is bullshit. Do not listen to me.

you love your brother

My room overlooks the UCLA Sig Phi Ep frat house, and for the past week, the brothers have been hard at work decorating their shitty rundown house for a special "Eden" party tonight, sawing and nailing into the wee hours of the morning. They built a fence and a created a waterfall in front of their house, plastered a giant papier-mache tree above and around the front door, erected a mosquito net canopy over the sundeck, stapled artificial palm fronds to walls and ceilings, and cut the letters E, D, E and N out of plywood in a gothic font and placed them atop the roof, each letter lit up by its own personal light. All this for what amounts to little more than a four hour kegger.

When they're not constructing elaborate sets for debauchery or in the act of debauching, the Sig Phi Ep brothers like to play ping pong. Most every day from about 3 PM to 3 AM, I can hear people playing ping pong outside my window.


One frequent ping pong participant stands out in particular. I can always tell when he's playing.


calm down dude…

One night, I had just retired to my futon when all of a sudden, I heard yelling emanating from the Sig Phi Ep house. "GET UP! OUTSIDE! NOW!" It was 3 AM. I laid there listening to a bunch of guys frantically file into the backyard. I assumed it was a silly hazing ritual. Then: "EAT IT, FAGGOTS! HURRY UP AND EAT IT! YOU DON'T WANT TO BE LAST! HURRY! YOU DON'T WANT TO BE LAST!" All I could think was "Man, some people take ping pong way too seriously."

As I write this, I can hear a Sig Phi Ep brother's cell phone ring Eminem's "Without Me". Last week, a Sig Nu party blasted Nelly's "Hot in Herre" no less than three times. As long as there are frats, there will be MTV.

a sorta nightmare

At work today, I was preoccupied using Illustrator when I heard this song on the radio that I vaguely recognized. I couldn't quite figure out what song it was, but I soon found myself really digging this song. Then, it hit me like a Puerto Rican girlfriend. This is the new Tori Amos song! Almost impulsively, I checked my armpits for hair. Gah! Don't panic, Jon. Try down below. I cupped my crotch. Is that…? Why yes it is! I feel cock and balls! SWEET SWEET COCK AND BALLS!!!


talking points memo

I was planning my schedule for winter quarter when I discovered that while I'm in my third year of college, I'm already classified as a senior. I did the math, and it looks like I can graduate before I turn 21. I'd like to have a summer though, so I'll settle for a December 2003 graduation — two quarters early. Of course, the unforeseen circumstances leave me with less time to figure out postgraduate plans.

Mike Kelly once asked me what good an English major is, and honestly, I dunno. The only reason I'm an English major is because I was rejected from film school and didn't have the grades (or desire) to major in Comm Studies Common Sense. UCLA doesn't have a Journalism major.

Jose says that, like a Business major, I can market an English major anywhere, but I just can't see myself building a media empire out of a humanities degree and a non-existent high school diploma. I don't want to copy edit for a living!

I really fucked myself over by not looking into what majors each candidate school offered when applying to colleges. I'm gonna have to be a little more prudent with grad schools; that is, if I manage to get into one. I still believe in my heart that life's too short to spend so much of it in school, but for my own sake, I need to attend grad school. Grad school is an opportunity to start over, to study something else, somewhere else, and stay competitive.

Jonathan Yu: B.A. in English from UCLA, Masters in Business and Computer Engineering from UPenn. Sounds like the most generic educational background po$$ible.

As an official member of the Class of 2003 now, I suppose I better start working on my college apps. [sigh] I thought I was finished with standardized tests. Bring on the GRE.

mi 2 (3 of 2)

I hate to write any more about Michigan, but I saw a news article that warrants mention.

8 Mile Rapper Shot, Recovering
"Ali Miyzaan, 26, said he was shot about 11:30 PM November 8 in the parking lot of Phoenix Theaters, which is on Eight Mile road in Detroit."

DUDE!!! I was AT the Phoenix around 11:30 PM on November 8! To think, if I wasn't inside waiting in line for 8 Mile with Eric, I could have seen a guy get shot! DAMMIT!

mi 2 (2 of 2)

Jon | Rory | Anthony

When I told people I was going to Detroit for a weekend, I received one of three responses:
1. WTF?
2. Don't get shot.
3. It's really cold there! Bring a jacket!

My mother seems to think that the sun doesn't exist. Every time I tell her that I'm traveling someplace, she always tells me "It's really cold there! Bring a jacket!" even if I'm going to, like, Phoenix. I've been all over the country this year (on my parents' money) for ridiculously short periods of time visiting people I met online and all my parents seem to care about is whether or not I bring a jacket with me.

Apparently, people in the motor suburbs like to rake fallen leaves into giant piles that line the curbs outside their houses, making it incredibly difficult to find parking. Don't you think convenient parking spaces should take precedence over good looking front yards? I mean, it's almost December in the northeast. Why bother cleaning up the mess on your lawn? Sooner or later, snow's gonna come and cover it all anyway!

If you've ever driven on a freeway during a rainstorm, don't the raindrops on your car windows look like a bunch of sperm swimming around?

I was convinced that there was no good way to sleep on an airplane in coach until I saw this in a SkyMall catalogue:

Can you imagine sitting next to somebody with one of these things, especially if he or she is in the middle?

It's like resting your head on a giant titty.

On the plane flight back to Los Angeles, I sat in a window seat next to an old black lady and her grandson. The grandson, who looked to be about 12, was an angry little fellow whose entire vocabulary consisted of a few imperative statements.

Grandmother: You want something to eat?
Grandson: SHHH! BE QUIET!
Grandmother: You want some chips?
Grandson: BE QUIET!
Grandmother: You want to play Game Boy?
Grandmother: Boy, watch your mouth!
Grandson: SHHH! BE QUIET!
[repeat over and over throughout the three-and-a-half hour flight]

I now have a sense of what Mike Tyson was probably like as a child.

So…um…Tony Fader (my hero) gave me his stuffed panda bear.



But…I found it!

But…you didn't go to Michigan this time around!


On my bed.


I can't believe you've been back here three days and never told me about the bear! You know how much I love it!

Well, Tony DID give the bear to ME to hold in MY arms…to love and to cherish…in sickness and in

ENOUGH! Some friend you are…

Wh-where are you going?

Up to Berkeley to get a couch from the other Anthony!

Heh. Good luck…

mi 2 (1 of 2)

I just got back from Michigan and have a lot to talk about. I wrote some notes down on my hand. Let's see here…

If you had one shot
One opportunity

Sorry. Wrong hand.

Stoopid Robot: so if this post involves Eminem, i'm not reading your site anymore
Horny Rornblower: well
Horny Rornblower: um…
Horny Rornblower: goodbye?
Stoopid Robot: god damn
Stoopid Robot: i knew it

I saw 8 Mile opening night at a theatre on 8 Mile. Actually, I saw it at the only theatre on 8 Mile — the Detroit part of 8 Mile, mind you. I had previously never been frisked upon entering a movie theatre. Moreover, the Wankers and I notwithstanding, everybody there was black. I had fun though.

After the movie, we dragged our asses back across 8 Mile to "evil middle class white people land" and ate pancakes.

Rory and I came up with some potential 8 Mile sequels:

8 Legged Mile
Eminem's gigantic ego terrorizes the mass media.

8 MMile
Nicolas Cage obtains footage of an Eminem video that doesn't involve brooding darkness or him acting out lyrics.

8 Mile with Conan O'Brien
Hey, NBC remade Carrie

The 405
The traffic on the San Diego Freeway symbolizes the psychological dividing line that separates Eminem from where he wants to be.

8 Mile in a Duffel Bag
The story of Kim Mathers.

Tony Hawk's Pro Sk8 Moile:
A movie the whole 12-24 demographic can enjoy!

Statutory 8 Mile
Eminem loves his daughter.

1984 Mile
In a brutally stifled society of blackspeak and two minutes hate, Marshall is made to "love the Free World."

I saw the following on a sign in the Tower Records in Birmingham: "free bag with every purchase."

I also saw a bunch of dry cleaners in Michigan that named themselves after how much they charge ($2.99 Dry Cleaners, $2.29 Dry Cleaners). Is it really a good idea to include a price in the official name of your business? What if you owned $1.99 Dry Cleaners and I opened up $1.98 Dry Cleaners right across the street? You're pretty much fucked then, aren't you? You can't just lower the price, because according to the phone book and business cards and the lighted marquee outside your store, you charge $1.99 for dry cleaning! Of course, you could spend a couple thousand renaming your place something like $1.97 Dry Cleaners, but I could just as easily rename my place $1.96 Dry Cleaners and fuck with you all over again.

xbox live 11.14.02

Why is it that whenever a celebrity dies, his or her friends feel the need to establish a charity in the deceased's name? Who supports these things? Moreover, sometimes these charities have nothing to do with memorializing the dead celebrity. When Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes died, MTV set up an AIDS charity in her name, despite the fact that she died in a car crash. Pity. I was really looking forward to the chance to donate to a charity for car crashes too…

xbox live 11.14.02

I was walking to class today when I heard someone yell "Jon!" I turned around and was surprised to see Tiffany Fu from high school.

Tif. An old friend.

"Jon Yu! I haven't seen you in such a long time!"

And my social anxiety disorder kicks in right about…now.


[awkward pause]

Jon, you spent all of senior year conspiring with her to fuck up the yearbook. It's not like you guys don't know each other. Say something! Be friendly!

"Um… So what are you doing at UCLA?"

"Oh I have a dance performance…"

Gotta be friendly…gotta be friendly… Friendly! Friendly! Friendly!

"…I'm a member of this troupe…"

Oh who am I kidding? I don't have anything worthwhile to say to her. I haven't spoken with her in three years!

"…but I have to go back to San Diego tonight."

[awkward pause]

"Cool. Well, I gotta get to class. Nice meeting, er, seeing you again. Bye!"

[Jon runs off]

Old friends — what an oxymoron. Sooner or later, everyone you know becomes foreign to you.

Senior year, I resolved to disappear after high school. I went outta my way to prevent myself from appearing in my senior yearbook. If you look up my name in its index, I appear only on page DNE. I never took senior photos. I don't appear on any graduation ceremony videotape recordings. The MVHS lit mag from spring 2000 says that I passed away the day after graduation. I rarely (if ever) talk to people I knew in high school anymore.

However, I fear that while I have tried to erase me from memory, other people have not, and that's a scary thought.

Nothing like feeling alone amongst friends.