Contact

I had this really weird urge to kiss a girl on the mouth. 

We were talking, just business as usual, and I dunno what the fuck happened. My brain flipped and thought it would be wonderful to press my lips to hers. It wasn’t sexual though; I didn’t want to evoke any emotions, feelings, sensations. I think I just wanted some sort of physical contact.

Instead of flat out kissing her, I just placed my hand on her cheek. I’m a quirky enough person for this to not be out of the ordinary. And then I went about my business, sated.

Sometimes I just need contact with someone, platonic or not. 

My buddy Matt is a damned magnificent hugger. He grips me nice and tight and then runs his hands up and down my back. I find this very comforting and become sleepy. And then he gives me a small, bear hug at the end so my breath is smushed out of my chest. Super therapeutic.

A few days ago I was upset about something that probably doesn’t matter much in the scheme of things, but it still bothered me. I had some friends over, so I stood up and said, “I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to go in my room and cry for a little bit.”

I crawled into bed like a little bitch and cuddled my safety blanket. I could feel the tears brimming and I hated it. 

I sat bolt upright, stormed back into the living room, and held onto Matt. I might’ve cried a little bit, but I’d like to think it turned out a lot better than it would have if I had just huddled in my room. I calmed down, told him to not tell anyone about my tears, and here I am, putting all this crap on the Internet. No one will ever find out now!

Karaoke Queen

I, like just about every other Asian person, like karaoke.

For my father’s 50th birthday, my family and all of the people at his office had Korean BBQ and went to a karaoke joint.

I got hammered on Seoul Trains (think sake bombs only with beer that tastes like baby piss that’s been vomitted back up and mixed with a synthetic rice wine). And then I picked up the microphone and said, “This one’s for you, Pops!” and sang Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach.” I was a god…in my head.

But the social massacre of Jessica didn’t end there. I stood up and said, “AND THIS ONE’S FOR MEEEEEE!” …and sang “Like a Virgin.” My mama ripped the mic out of my hands; my dad high fived me. 

Mum thinks I drank water for the rest of the night. It was really 소주 in a water bottle, courtesy of my father’s employees.