Tag: nostalgia

GLOW was pretty good

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

It doesn’t happen often, but not only did I manage to dive into a Netflix original fairly close to when it drops, I’m already done with the series and can write things about it in a timeframe where it’s likely that not every single TV watcher on the planet has also watched every single episode yet.  But I didn’t want to write anything about it until I was finished with the series, and ultimately, I’m glad that I waited.

As a wrestling fan throughout most of my life, GLOW was one of those things that I remember its existence back in the day, when they’d manage to sneak in a sparse commercial during WWF Prime Time Wrestling broadcasts, but being the little girl-hating misogynist as a kid, I didn’t think anything of it, other than trying to remember the acronym behind the name.  I never watched anything aside from the commercials, and I never sought out to seek out what kind of product they put on.  I just knew, they existed.  Nothing more.

When Netflix announced that they were doing such a show, I was mildly interested, because I am now an adult, capable of understanding things other than Masters of the Universe and Super Mario Bros.  I’m always intrigued with the wrestling industry in general, and it didn’t hurt to build promotion of the show around Alison Brie, whom every nerdy guy in the world had a crush on while watching Community.

To be honest, in spite of my enthusiasm and anticipation of the show, GLOW was actually a little bit difficult to get into, for me.  But after watching through the whole series, a part of me felt like such was constructed in a deliberate manner, as to really exaggerate the finer points of what progresses a storyline – much like how it’s done in the wrestling industry itself.

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Not sure if fan of dumping V6s

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Impetus: Honda is dumping the V6 engine from the Accord, replacing with turbo-charged four

Despite its fairly vanilla existence, I’ve often held the Honda Accord in relative esteem.  The first time in my life that my family got a new car, it was a 1990 Honda Accord.  White, naturally, as Asian people loved cars that were either white or champagne color.  It was like the coolest event in the world back then, and the Accord seemed like a spaceship compared to the dated old Toyota Celica that it had replaced.

Years later, my family ended up getting another Accord, a 1998 model.  I remember this one, because I thought that the car was intended to be for me, but ultimately ended up with my dad absconding with it, when he was working away from home, out in Chattanooga for a few years, which led to a lot of sour grapes on my end.  For a while, my dad drove the shit out of it before he ended up barely driving it at all, and when he traded it in a little over a year ago, the car was nearly 16 years old and never crossed the 100,000 mile mark, which for a Honda is barely half its lifespan.  Along the way, my mom got a used 1994 Accord that she ran into the ground, but the point is that my family has had a lot of Honda Accords. 

Ultimately, I view the Accord as a trustworthy reliable car, in spite of its vanilla existence, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned more recently, it’s the de facto car of choice for Indian families; seriously, the sheer amount of Honda Accords in my apartment complex belonging to Indian families is almost an anthropological marvel.  But the Accord is a name that people associate with affordable, safe, and decently performing, and if I were at that stage of my life where I wanted a family-friendly automobile that I’d feel good about anyone driving and wouldn’t be too much of a chore for me to drive myself, the Honda Accord wouldn’t be the worst choice in the world.

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Remembering Adam West

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I’ll be honest, the vast majority of times I hear about a media personality dying, I don’t really care.  Actors, musicians, performers, guys like Chris Cornell, Roger Moore, Chuck Berry or Bill Paxton come to mind.  Some, I feel like I should have appreciated more than I did, like Mary Tyler Moore and Don Rickles, but they were also of a different time than my own, and I never sought them out later in life.  Often, I’ll see stories of their passings flash on the web and social media, and sometimes I’ll recognize their names, but other times, I quickly come to the conclusion that as unfortunate as the loss of life may be, I didn’t really know much about them, have any sort of emotional, nostalgic connection with them, and not really care and be off with the rest of my days.

Adam West is a different story however, because I am a nerd who was and is a fan of Batman in just about every possible iteration of the property.  And despite all the jokes throughout history about a jaded and resentful portrait of Adam West, resentful of the passage of time and the laundry list of other actors who have portrayed the character, there was always a shred of truth to his underlying message: he’s Batman.

As campy and corny the 60s television series was, it was still classic and iconic television that will probably never be touched in terms of formula and execution.  As a kid, I wanted to mock it and goof on how campy it was, but when the day was over, I realize that I had sat through two episodes of the show and found myself enjoying it.  Every day after elementary school was the same formula:

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Judging a book by its title

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When it comes to Chinese food, I’m not particularly picky.  I mean, let’s be honest here, Chinese food in America is about as American as McDonald’s is, so going to Royal China in Atlanta isn’t going to be terribly different from Lucky Golden Buddha in Seattle or China King 3 in Oklahoma.  Furthermore, I usually favor my Chinese food either delivered to my house so I can be lazy, or going to a buffet where I can stuff my face like a miserable fat fuck and regret it terribly later on in the day.  There’s almost no appeal at all when it comes to going to a Chinese restaurant where the food is not unlimited.

Until I discovered the existence of this place.  Where the name of the restaurant alone is enough to elicit an opinion of “no fucking way,” and eventually “I want to try this place out if they’re so audacious to have such an iconic name that triggers so much nostalgia.”

I mean seriously, when you’re going to name your restaurant Double Dragon, you have to know you’re going to be putting a bullseye on yourself from snarky gamers that are 30-years old and older at this point.  You also have to know that you’re seriously not trying hard to hide the fact that you’re seriously infringing on some copyrights, from the name itself, to the logo they’re using, but then again, it’s hard to really nail down who owns the rights to the franchise these days; so maybe there’s no concerns that Technos or Atlus or whomever develops and publishes the game is going to bother coming after them.

Seriously, the logo could be slapped onto an NES cart and look like a legit edition to the series, it’s so blatantly based on the video game franchise.  The dragons are even the fucking colors of Billy and Jimmy. 

Regardless, a Chinese restaurant in Atlanta named Double Dragon.  I think that might be kind of racist, but the game is a Japanese development featuring white guys named Lee, and dragons are so very prominent in Chinese culture, so it too is hard to really nail down.  But I am most definitely piqued, and it’s now on my list of places that I would like to try.  If anything at all, this is kind of the closest thing I might ever see to restaurants named after video games, like I often hope to find an Indian restaurant called Yoga Fire.

NBA: National Bitches Association

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Prior to reading this, I implore my six readers to press play and listen to the theme of when the NBA was truly golden, and basketball was a respectable sport rife with athletes playing against other athletes in the game of basketball, and news was limited to solely basketball-related stories.

This is a topic that’s been on my head for quite some time, but never really chose to run with it, because quite frankly the world is full of way more interesting stories, or things that I’d rather write about, like overturned tractor trailers, or conspiracy theories about MARTA.  But then I saw this article about Ray Allen being a bitch because all his former Celtics teammates had a championship team reunion and didn’t invite him, because they are all bitches as well.

This story follows a week that also saw DeMar DeRozan of the Toronto Raptors whining about how his team would have advanced in the playoffs if they had LeBron James; like a sore loser, or, like a bitch. 

And speaking of LeBron James, earlier in the season, he had an altercation with a teammate, but instead of going Old Testament on him and kicking his ass in the locker room or throwing him under the bus to the media, instead he, the guy who brought glory back to Cleveland, won numerous championships and has nothing left to prove, assumes blame, takes responsibility for the altercation and apologizes to the jobber teammate, the fans and the organization.

Like a bitch.

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November 22, 2004 – March 15, 2017

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I’ve been keeping it quiet since it began snowballing, but me being me, I didn’t want to jinx anything and wanted to wait until it was basically a forgone conclusion before I did any sort of writing or talking about it in any sort of fashion.  It has been no secret that Jen and I worked our asses off a little while back in preparation for putting our house up on the market, and that less than two weeks ago, our house officially went up on the market.

However, just like that, the process has ended as frantically and as quickly as it started.  In the span of barely 13 days, my listed home was given numerous offers, one was selected, the buyer initiated inspections and the closing process, and today, I’m on the cusp of turning over the keys and signing over the title to the house to its new owners.

After 13 years, I will no longer be a homeowner.

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The occasional heartache of moving

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I have vague memories of when I was eight years old, moving from my birth home in (then-) rural Virginia to the bustle and civilization of Northern Virginia.  One of the things that stuck with me was that when my family pulled away from the house for the last time in our old Toyota Celica, was seeing a neighborhood girl that was my age standing in her front yard, and she waved at us.  I remember her name was Evan.  I remember being at an age where moving wasn’t that big of a deal, although my sister was pretty miffed at moving from an area where elementary school was K-5 to a place that was K-6, meaning she had to put up with one more year of elementary school and sharing the bus with a little brother.

When my family moved again when I was in the fifth grade, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal then either.  Sure, it kind of stunk knowing I’d have to start over again at another new school, but my family was doing well financially at that time, and we were moving into a huge baller home, and there was something exciting about switching schools mid-year.  It also helped that my new school was slightly behind in curriculum than my former one, so I literally coasted for a while before actually getting back to learning.

It was during my sophomore year of high school that my family moved again.  This one I remember being a little harder to cope with, mostly on account of the fact that I was a moody, broody 15-year old then, and the fact that the circumstances behind the move weren’t necessarily positive or free will; the restaurant business was going downhill, the family’s finances were following, and it was more like being forced to downsize and move to a smaller home, rather than it being a bright and promising change.  I didn’t particularly care for moving back then, but growing up has made me understand and accept why it was necessary.

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