Chuc Mung Nam Moi!

Happy Lunar New Year! As of Feb. 18, it's piggy time. And whoever said that you will have a tough time during the year of your own sign wasn't kidding. In the past six days, I've battled a cold, lost a dear colleague to a competing newspaper, been confused yet again by boys, who are so weird, and saw an ex. Ewwwww!
I'm looking forward for February to trade places with March, when spring will arrive with blossoms, warm temps and the pink and gray shirtdress that I ordered from Tom K. Nguyen's spring collection.
I can't say that the first day of the Year of the Pig was all bad. Last Sunday, I helped Missy's mom celebrate her birthday at La Guelaguetza, where we feasted on spicy mole. This was my chicken tamale smothered in dark mole, served with rice and black beans.

My brother also said he was considering moving to SoCal with his dog. It'd be great to have a sibling nearby, even one who was so bratty when he was 3 years old that he scratched my Aristocats vinyl 45" on my record player (which he used without asking!). I think Los Angeles would be big enough for the Tran troika: me, Bien and Mikey, aka the Hound.
After beating my cold, which I caught in Las Vegas, despite my foie gras-fortified diet, I took up my friend Max's offer to shake my booty to tunes that his beau spun at Remy's on Temple. I thought flirting with lots of cute boys would be the perfect antidote to the doldrums. But Max said that a lot of the cute boys there also liked cute boys. Well, who would be better to dispense tips on flirting with cute boys than cute boys who were good at doing it? I also picked up quite a few new dance moves from the Fingered Dance Troupe, who seemed to take the "spirit fingers" lesson from Kirsten Dunst' cheerleader flick "Bring It On" to heart. There was also a song-and-dance routine from some dude who reminded me of a 21st century Freddie Mercury decked out in American Apparel. I have to say that I had a lot of fun, which was keeping with the mantra that I set for this year. That's a lot more than I can say for the ex, who wasn't smiling or laughing one bit when I saw him at a dimly lit, crowded art party. Plus, I got a mini tour from the artist himself before he was bombarded with hugs from Winona Ryder and Salma Hayek. At least I don't have to worry about running into any exes on the red carpet.

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