Annie Choi: Architects Hate Her and She’s Hilarious

I just finished reading Annie Choi’s “Happy Birthday or Whatever: Track Suits, Kim Chee, and Other Family Disasters.”

Very funny book. I read it on a flight up the bay area and back. Yeah, it’s a fast read. Go buy it. Be literate for once in your life. Or drop me an email and I’ll lend you my copy you parsimonious bastard/ette.

The book is a very David Sedaris-esque autobiographical tale. I have to say though, that my favorite is still Paul Beatty’s “White Boy Shuffle.” He was a Slam Poet, so it’s hard to compete with that. Anyways, I wanted to give props to Korean American writers not named Chang-Rae Lee, so there it is. I like reading Asian American writers that don’t make me want to kill myself (Chang-Rae — you write beautifully and all that, but seriously, can I crack a smile once, puhlease? I don’t like feeling suicidial when I read books — oh yeah, thank you Rohinton Mistry, the pleasure was all mine . . . )

I personally want to encourage the blossoming of Asian American writers who write funny — kinda like Shawn Wong and his “American Knees”. I thought so much of that guy that I actually drove up to Seattle and bugged a graduate student at U-Dub to set up a meeting. He is a charming man. They eventually made the novel into a movie, “Americanese” — yeah, I get it . . .

I “discovered” Annie Choi when an architect friend sent me a HEEEE-larious article by Annie Choi. I was telling my architect friend that she became important in my life as I inadvertently achieved certain accouterments of a bourgeoisie life. I needed to park her at my cocktail parties (I have yet to have one, although my wife and I are planning a Rockband party in the near future and if you have to ask you’re not invited) in order to mark the fact that I can now introduce my snooty friends who read The New Yorker to my friend, the architect. She promptly sent me the article, entitled, “Dear Architects” and told she’ll never ever attend any of my cocktail parties. She mumbled something about proletariat riff-raff. I knew she wasn’t talking about me.

Please read it. Those three pages was enough to convince me that I needed to buy her book.

You can also check out her blog:

I have not really read her blog, so I do not vouch for its funniness nor its hilarity.

But I suppose it’s gotta be better than this blog.

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