Domestic Crusaders NYC

After hearing nothing but good about the play Domestic Crusaders by Wajahat Ali (also AZN’s high school buddy and the guy behind Goatmilk), me and SJ went to check out the nyc installment. Held in the legendary Nuyorican Cafe, the spot was packed to the gills on a Friday night.

NYC Cast

NYC Cast

We blessedly found ourselves sitting mere inches behind an oochie boochie couple who somehow found a Muslim Pakistani American family dealing with media scapegoating and household friction post 9-11 extremely romantic. However, the noisy lip-smacking, vigorous rubbing of bare feet, and intense cootie factor — although tremendously distracting and vom-inducing — did not detract from the quality and brilliance of Domestic Crusaders.

Wajahat also joined the cast at the close of the show to describe its equally-compelling history: from its beginnings weeks after 9/11 as a Berkeley English paper, to Waj’s years-long international search for a theater with enough balls and integrity to house the play.

I scuttled up to the stage afterwards to say wassup and thank Wajahat for his ongoing support of BCB — and he was awfully nice (and nice-looking…heads up single Muslim ladies! If you missed it the 1st time round, feast your peepers on the below):

Domestic Crusaders is funny, engaging, thought-provoking, humanizing…. and uh, I’m not really a good theatre critic, so I will just say get thee to the Nuyorican before the show closes on October 11th and you feel like a total hosebag. The New York Times even featured it!  Tickets here. You can also help support this incredible show by donating here.




Yet Another Golden State Warriors Rant


Another Warriors post, this time a joint post between Sherdizzle and AzNHeartThrob. Should be interesting, cause the Dubs are the only thing Sher and AzN agree on….


As I sit listing the order of preference of which home games I plan to pick in my shared season ticket lottery drawing this weekend, I see this and this and this and this.

And yet, I keep listing my games away, eager to be there opening night against Yao.

Now there isn’t one single player on this upcoming season’s roster that I’d wholeheartedly cheer for during intros let alone spend 50 bucks on a youth size jersey for. We’ve got a bunch of d-listed wannabe superstars who think that because they had one fluke season of ESPN highlight reels, during a very short-lived post season, they all of a sudden can command enough star power to demand that the franchise cater to them. Hey, Monta – F you! For someone who spent most of last season sitting on his ass and shopping at Union City Target, you’ve got some nerve complaining about who you can and can’t play with in the back court.


How about you take your ass back to Mississippi and play with that moped that sidelined you last season? And while you’re at it, take Stephen Jackson with you too. Before you became a W Jacko, you were a reject, a trouble maker, who was best known for picking fights at Auburn Hills and carrying guns into night clubs. The GSW’s gave you a second chance at redeeming your reputation and your career. How do you repay them back? By demanding a trade?

Well, F – you too Jacko.

It’s like the W’s are cursed. It’s got to be the Webber/Sprewell/Nelson debacle of 1995. Ever since those three collided and abandoned ship, we’ve been in a downward spiral. We get players who wine and dine us, then up and leave once a prettier younger mate comes along *ahem* boomdizzle. We cling to players who have zero talent and no chance of ever leading us to the playoffs let alone to a championship *ahem* Dunleavy, Murphy, Jamison (F you Jamison and your subsequent 6th man of the yr award and two all star appearance after leaving the W’s). And we spend big bucks on guys who, in all likelihood, if they were on any other team, would only come off the bench in the fourth quarter when their team is already up by 40 points. *ahem* Dampier, Foyle. And lets not even talk about draft picks, because I’m sure AzN can set off a rampage post about all the superstars that we managed to let slip…*ahem* Kobe. And somehow, we always manage to always let go of the ones with potential and heart (Gilbert, Jrich). *sigh*

So while Jackson and Ellis cry about how deserving they are to play on a championship team because of that ONE season once upon a time that they helped get the W’s into the playoffs, I’ll think about the days that made me become a W fan to begin with in order to get me through these dark days. (And to those bandwagon fans who just hopped on board in 06, I’m talking about the Run TMC days, I’m talking about the pre Chris “I’m a douchey idiot” Cohan days.)

I’ll stick to wear my #1 TRAN jersey ‘cuz I know that’s one playaplaya that will never leave…


What is it about the Golden State Warriors that make us actually LOVE them. Its not the name. The Warriors name is mostly associated with Wilt Chamberlain and his 100 point game when the team was in Philly. Its not the city, cause the name of the team isn’t even a city. Its not the colors, those keep changing different tones of blue and gold. Its not the mascot, Thunder, who everyone loathed and thankfully got shown the door when the OK Thunder came into the world. Its not the uniforms, which we all seem to hate until they get changed and “thrown back”. Its not the God forsaken Oracle Arena or the area its located in (tailgate? in a parking lot looking over a freeway next to a BART station?). Its not management (poor, poor Mullin). Its not ownership (I LOATHE NO OTHER MAN MORE IN SPORTS THAN COHAN). And its not the experience of going to the game ($9 beers in Oakland?). And as my colleague Sherdizz explained, its definitely not the players. So why do we love the Warriors? Is it because its the only (basketball) game in town? I don’t think THAT’S true, I don’t see myself rooting for the San Jose Supersonics anytime soon… I’m starting to think its because of the fans. Fans that have sipped the Kool-Aid since Sarunas Marciulionis was running the ball down court and Chris Gatling was rebounding with his absurdly long hands. We have cheered for this team for so long with the such ridiculously low expectations, that no matter WHAT they accomplish (4th in the Pacific! YEA!), we cheer them on like we just got 3 back-to-back titles. In the same way a physically abused child adores his father when he brings home a happy meal for dinner (Yea, I got a toy Transformer!), we mindlessly cheer on a worthless team that makes more money when it spends less money on talent cause folks from Novato to Gilroy love basketball, and never hitched on to the Kings bandwagon. So now that I concede that this is an addiction, I’m past the denial stage. Someday, years from now, I might move into acceptance, but until that day, I’m busy picking out which game I’m going to buy seats to (PORTLAND!) and which Warrior will be here long enough for me to buy a jersey (maybe I’ll just be safe and buy a throwback Mitch Richmond jersey).

Dear People of San Francisco


Dear San Franciscans,

I realize there is a very small population of Black folks in the City, but that doesn’t mean you have an excuse to be ignorant and rude. So when I bring my girl AO around to DJ Spinna’s MJ vs. Prince party, it is not cool that you ask to touch her amazing Afrohawk. Worse even, would be just touching without asking. So Asian guy in the striped shirt, when you asked to touch her hair and started reaching for it and I said, “No, no you can’t. That’s rude”, you damn well should be ashamed, cause I was embarrassed for you and Asian folks in general. It’s almost equivalent to me exoticizing you and asking to touch your slanted eyes, or smooth black hair, or bare haired chest. This is not the 1800’s and we do not live in Kentucky.

I’m realizing very fast that its a CHORE to go to SF nowadays, rather than just chilling in the East Bay. Less douches cause no one B&T’s into Oakland…

Baby On Board

I saw something like this while on my walk to work this morning:


"Thanks dad, sure I don't need a helmet. My skull is fully developed by this age"

Although this is a random pict of what I witnessed this morning, it does the job. A picture doesn’t quite capture the instability or roughness of what the baby actually feels in the back. Cause the kid I saw this morning looked like he was experiencing a jeepney ride through a bumpy jungle road from Saigon to Phnom Penh. My first thought was, “a car’s gonna sideswipe that baby trailer like nobody’s business”. My second thought was, “every time I see one of these bike accessories, its rolling past me in a yuppie part of the Bay or being taken out of an Audi. Always by a white dude”.

So I’m gonna go ahead and state a gross generalization. White people like to put their babies in harms way more than Asian folks. Agree or disagree? Cause my white uncle’s literary thrown my little cousins into walls and ceilings and done this, seriously:

Balancing Baby

Look at that smile on the baby's face! Wait, only the dad's smiling... That little girl looks like she's gonna shit herself.

Friday Fuckery: Giant Babies

Ya’ll know how I am about babies. Generally, they make me feel weird (what are you supposed to say to it? Too much pressure) and I find them tiresome after about 5 minutes. Also, they smell funny, like Johnson’s baby powder and warm milk. And I resent that whenever a babeh is within 20 ft, it’s required that you re-direct all your attention to it for a prolonged amount of time — or be perceived as missing that mothering instinct — and hence heartless and inhuman.  I gots other things to do with my time, yo. Like book it to the bar before happy hour’s over and then stumble home and cut my own hair.

Not that I am inherently opposed to all babies/chilluns. Quite often I’ll come across a lil’ toddler in front of the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory so screamingly adorable that I have the urge to abduct it and skip gleefully through the streets, tossing babe in arms like a cuddly panda bear. Only for a couple hours people. Calm down.

Anyhooz! Now that we’ve covered babies in general, let’s address: Giant. Babies.

Like the 19-pounder just born in Indonesia:

I'm scared too, little feller

I'm with you on this one, baby on the left

And this 13.75 pounder, born in China in 2005:

Sorry, no full-body pic...just infer from the cheeks.

Sorry, no full-body pic...just infer from the cheeks.

I was not aware that this was a real thing. Sounds more like the title of a horror B-movie. GIANT BABIES ATTTAAAACK (your uterus). How do you carry something around like that for nine godfersaken months?!

But giant babeeeez are very real, and the explanation is more commonplace than you’d think: it can happen when the mother has diabetes. Diabetes! Looking at these pictures moves me to swear off pie and Twix bars forever. Maybe. Is it worth it? I mean, there’s always adoption right?  Or this could just become my soundtrack of motherhood. Awesome.

The (not-so) Subtle Moves of an Asian Fetishist

Another one of those real life stories. Haystack, CA. Table of 8: 3 South Asians, 2 Koreans, 1 Latino, 1 White Guy, and AzN. Happy Hour. Scene:

South Asian guy’s cured meat plate comes out

Korean Girl 1: Oh My God! I love cured meats!

White guy’s cured meat plate comes out

Korean Girl 1: Oh My God! You got cured meats too!

White Guy: I knew you’d like them. All Asian girls love cured meat.

AzN drops his knife onto his pants.

Korean Girl 1: What?

White Guy: I know what Asian girls like cause I’ve liked Asian girls from since I could remember.

Latino guy stops dranking his drank mid-drank

Korean Girl 1: Oh Mah Gawd! This guy has an Asian Fetish!

White Guy: Yea, I grew up in North Fremont, so I had a lot of Asian friends and I’ve always liked the girls.

Awkward silence from the whole table.

White guy eventually leaves early when he realizes he just offended the entire sub-continent and continent of Asia.

Seriously guys, if you have a fetish, any kind of fetish, don’t mention it to the fetishized. And its great that you’re aware of your fetish, but work on thinking of people as people first, and not as a fetish first. Cause when you start thinking of Asian women as people first, as in the future mother of your children and sister-in-law to your brothers/sisters, then you’ll be on the same playing field. Cause Asian women don’t always walk around in geisha costumes or report the news all sexy. They’re my moms, my aunts, my cousins, and my friends. And when Asian girls aren’t in your MCB class scoring A’s or in line for lattes at the cafe, they’re doing stupid things this and still hot (to Asian guys at least):