MOM: I'm getting old, so we should talk about when I die.

PRINCE: We're at dim sum!

MOM: I'm putting everything in your name.

PRINCE: Do we really have to do this now?! I'm eating!

MOM: Whatever I have left when I die, share with your sister. She gets half; you get half.

PRINCE: I'm giving her 25 percent; I'm keeping 75 percent.

MOM: Do not cheat your sister! Or I will come back as a ghost and yell at you!

PRINCE: Fine! Do not haunt me!

MOM: And I don't want a funeral. Get me cremated. I think it costs something like a thousand dollars.

PRINCE: Can't I just save the money, and throw your body in the river?

MOM: I want to see Red next week.

PRINCE: Pass me the soy sauce.

I was pretty much sold on Asher Roth and his Eminem-inspired brand of white rap after the irresistibly hedonistic "I Love College," but after his addictive and happy new single, "G.R.I.N.D. (Get Ready It's A New Day)," he gets propelled to the forefront of my music consciousness. Watch:



All this, and he likes to get naked. Thank you.

Remember that video interview I posted of me talking about Mysterious Skin? Well, that five-minute clip could not contain all the wit and wisdom that I actually imparted when I sat down to be interviewed by Asia Pacific Arts. Fortunately for you, oh, embraceable you, the entire unedited transcript of that interview—which features a delightful Pork Chop anecdote—is available for your reading pleasure.

And I'm glad I could pleasure you.

Read "Mysterious Ways: Interview with Playwright Prince Gomolvilas."

By the way, I really should hire Managing Editor Ada Tseng to be my personal photographer because she managed, as you see in the photo here, to make me look even younger than I already look with my Asian-y genes—and without the ethical horror of PhotoShop!

I always suffer from a bit of post-play depression after the run of a production ends, especially on ones where I am intimately involved in the process. And with a cast, director, design team, and crew as talented and lovable as the ones involved in the recently closed production of Mysterious Skin at East West Players in Los Angeles, I feel like I've lost a limb. From the lower half of my body. You know the one I'm talking about.

This was, without exaggeration, one of the best theatre experiences I've ever had.

I bonded with the cast so well that with little coaxing they managed to lure me to karaoke one night, where I attempted to belt "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by The Proclaimers, only to discover that the "da da da (da da da) da da da (da da da) da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da" part is so freaking high that my lungs almost collapsed in on themselves.

Fortunately, I was not among the most embarrassing people there. That designation clearly belonged to the group of Japanese male tourists who were drunk out of their minds and who, upon hearing Bryan Adams's "Summer of '69," spent the rest of the evening interrupting songs by screaming "69!" and making obscene hand gestures in demonstration.

In order to cope with this post-play depression, we have planned group activities to ensure that we stay connected. We'll go out to see East West Players' next production, Crimes of the Heart, and I'm in the midst of organizing a "Dip Things in Other Things Party" at my place.

We don't want it to end. And, goddammit, it doesn't have to.

In the meantime, try it, bitches!:

Louise on the Left has challenged me to a cat-video duel, so....

While the debut episode of Nick Swardson's Pretend Time wasn't really up my comedy alley, the show did boast one very funny sketch about a cat. In a wheelchair. Need I say more, people?! Watch:

Last week, playwright-turned-True Blood writer Alexander Woo and I sat down for a My Dinner with Andre-style chat, but we were live in front of an audience at the Master of Professional Writing Program at USC.

Before the event, I walked Alex over to the Asia Pacific Arts office because they wanted to interview him and talk about Asian-y things.

Read Spinal Yanks and AIDS Burgers: An Interview with True Blood Scribe Alexander Woo.

As an unusually social cat, Pork Chop has been rather lonely for the past couple of months. You see, the other person who used to live in our apartment no longer lives in our apartment. (For those of you who know a bit about my personal life, that statement means everything that you think it means—and believe me, it's all been as unexpected and inexplicable to me as it is, I presume [?], to you.)

What I'm saying is, Pork Chop has asked for a sibling, a companion, a plaything that he can bat around like a chicken leg. After considering a bunch of different names—including top contenders like "Sha Siu Bao" and "Ham Sammy"—I've decided to name Pork Chop's probably-brother "Flapjack." The thing is, we have no idea who Flapjack is yet or where he (or she) is coming from.

The hunt began at the Glendale Humane Society, where the woman started grilling me in a slightly confrontational manner, as if I were some crazy person who was trolling animal shelters for cuts of meat for an Asian stew. Jesus Christ, if you're trying to deal with pet overpopulation and place strays in loving homes, you shouldn't act suspicious of someone like me, who loves his Pork Chop MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.

The saga continues....



Click here to join Pork Chop's Facebook page.

Asia Pacific Arts, an online publication that used to be housed at UCLA but that now resides at USC (suck it, Bruins!), recently conducted a video interview with me. It's an in-depth probe into the making of Mysterious Skin and its current Los Angeles premiere at East West Players. Watch:


[Video Link]

Get your Mysterious Skin tickets here.

It started with shirtless promo videos. And it continues with shirtless print ads in newspapers and magazines. Oh, the delightful depths we'll sink in order to entice people into the theatre! (It works, so shut up.)



Get your Mysterious Skin tickets here.

Um, this post's title is pretty self-explanatory. Watch:


[Video Link]

How many rolls of wrapping paper would it take to wrap Pork Chop, do you think?

[Thanks to Serena L.]