Roots

In case you are wondering, I haven't been blogging my Las Vegas escapades extensively for a few reasons: 1) the density of WTF-I-must-blog-this-now events is lower compared to Tokyo, 2) I have comparatively less control over my downtime and by extension, blogging time, and 3) sheer laziness.

Let point #1 in no way undermine your opinion of Vegas however. The thing is, though Vegas has strong potential for hilarious shit to take place, the prospects for ridiculousity are rather muted if one is traveling with one's parents. At least, that is what happens with my parents. Moreover, I am here with a good deal of extended family, most of whom are well-meaning but fairly conservative, typical Asian parents. And well, if it is no fun to drink alone, it is not much better to drink while surrounded by a dozen sober/underage people. It is a darn shame that none of these cousins are legal. Ironically, I somehow got suckered into playing bartender and making mocktails for everyone.

This is not to say that vacation hasn't been fun, but simply that this is much more a family vacation than a Vegas vacation. Which is fine, seeing as I haven't seen my family in 6 months and my cousins in about 3 years. I actually arrived a couple days before Chester (something about a minor snowstorm on the eastern seaboard...), and for that period, I felt like I was an only child. I can't remember the last time I had the undivided attention of my parents, and it felt pretty weird. On the other hand, I did enjoy catching up with my mom on family gossip, and it feels good to speak extensive amounts of Chinese.

Much to my relief, Chester arrived soon enough, and pretty much the second thing he said was "Hey Crystal, feel my pecs!" Apparently he's been making ample use of his gym pass at school, and can now bench his own weight. Um, what happened to the scrawny nerd I left behind in MA?

All was not lost though, as Chester whipped out a DVD with the Christmas special for It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We've finally reached the point where our interests have converged and we find the same things funny (IASIP, Hipsters Discussing Cyclocross). Six years is a significant age difference for siblings, and as the older child, I always took the lead in Making Shit Happen. This week, for the first time, it dawned on me that Chester is all grown up and I could afford to take a step back.

My cousins have also grown by leaps and bounds, losing rounded baby faces and gaining height with shocking speed. It seems that longish hair is in these days for guys. Or maybe it's just the recession-friendly option.

Where's Chester?

My mom (#6) is closest to her two younger siblings (#7-8), so we tend to hang out with their families and shun the others. The second generation is pictured here in a classic sidewalk self-portrait. We run the gamut from 8th grade (Marilyn) to two years post-college (me). I was mildly taken aback when Marilyn told a masturbatory joke, and also when she began laughing uproariously and pointing at a sign advertising Hot Babes with the number 696-9696...kids these days.

My aunt brought along her dogs as well, two pint-size chihuahuas. Apparently, shelters in CA are flooded with chihuahuas, not surprising given the popularity of toy dogs in purses on the west coast. We never had pets at home other than the cursory goldfish because my mom thinks they're too much trouble. As it turns out, she used to have a dog when she was a kid (my uncle kept teasing her, "Remember that time you made me go buy five cookies, and gave one to me and four to the dog?"). Then somewhere along the way she went grinch. I'm not firmly planted in either the pet or no pets camp, but I could kind of see her point when we got back one night to find that Lucy had gotten out of the kitchen, where we had penned her, and had proceeded to pee in four places, poop in several more, and her sweater had somehow disappeared. Oh and, she dragged a pair of my underwear into the living room, where Chester found it. Awk.