Red Doors/The Motel Contest: Write about your Dad, win a prize!

In celebration of the DVD release of two recent Asian American films (Red Doors and The Motel) we are partnering up with our "brothers" the Rice Daddies to have a contest. 

Since we're all moms writing about our experiences, we thought it'd be fun to mix things up a bit: 

Share your funniest story about your dad in the comments below.  Leave us your email address, and we'll enter you in a drawing for one of FIVE exciting prize packs.  One entry per person, please—but you can also go over to Rice Daddies and share your funniest story about your mom for a chance at one of their 5 identical prize packs.

The prize pack features a copy of Red Doors on DVD, a movie poster, a copy of The Motel on DVD, and a movie poster signed by the cast.  Phew!

If that wasn't enough, we're trying out a little Rice Daddies and Kimchi Mamas competition.  We want to see which blog gets the most stories.  The team with the most entries wins.  The losing blogteam has to supply three of its contributors to write their most embarassing parenting moment for publication on the winners' site.

The contests will be open until Saturday, February 3, 2007 at 12:01am PST.    Check back on Monday to find out who won.  Let the fun begin!!

~ eliaday

* Big thanks to Michael at Blanc de Chine films and Deborah at Palm Pictures for making this contest possible!

Comments

[Angie in Texas]

(Disclaimer:) When I was younger, my family was pretty poor. Despite being poor, having 4 kids and my Dad (who never learned to clean), Mom managed to keep the house pretty clean.

A while before this particular event, my Dad "fixed" the U-pipe under the sink. (By fixed I mean "not really".) Anyhow, the pipe still leaked a little and Mom had to put a little tray under the pipe to catch the occassional drop of water . . . this (if you didn't know) is one of the fastest ways to attract waterbugs, aka cockroaches - Texas sized cockroaches. So for a while we had spray cans of Raid(trademark) nearby and at the ready . . .

One night my Dad was messing around "fixing" things in the kitchen when a HUGE roach crawled across the floor. He yelled, "Yobo! Gemmi yak! (rough translation: Wife! Ant Medicine!)" and held his hand out as Mom threw him a can of Raid.

He promptly used the can to squish the roach.

It was great! Way to use that KO instinct!

BTW, I'm looking forward to reading the entries in this contest! What a GREAT idea!!!

[Jim]

It might not be the funniest one, but it's the one that comes to mind now.

There was a day one summer when I went to visit my parents. I had just gotten a new job, so I told them about it. My dad said something like, "Really? Wow. That was fast!" followed by, "Hey, why don't you mow the lawn?"

They had a "new" riding mower (which my dad bought used at an auction, which is how he makes pretty much any large purchase). After making a few rounds on it, I passed by a cylindrical metal object lying in the grass, and I picked it up.

It was hot.

In cartoon fashion, I didn't realize just how hot until I had held it for two seconds, then dropped it. It was the muffler from the riding mower, which had fallen off without my notice. Well, too late. My fingers were burned.

I spent the rest of the day soaking my fingers in ice water. Once I got inside, my mom was sympathetic, but I got the expected, "How old are you?/I can't believe you're grown up and would still pick something up like that!"

My dad has seen me clumsily inflict all manner of minor injuries and was pretty amused by this. Here's what he had to say in reference to me picking up the muffler:

"That's not a treasure."

[Henry]

Probably not that funny to everyone else, but this is something that never fails to make my sister and me laugh. My dad is a serious man - to most people. In the privacy of our home, he's a jester. One time he said he was an octopus and proceeded to flail his arms about in wave-like motions. It was pretty funny until he hurt his shoulder/neck from the unnatural way he was moving. He spent the rest of that day and the next day resting.

[eliaday]

This story is from Mia Riverton, who plays Mia Scarlett in Red Doors.

"When RED DOORS was accepted into the 2005 Tribeca Film Festival, my parents were thrilled -- they may be conservative scientists from the midwest, but they've gradually come around to embracing (or at least tolerating) the crazy lifestyle of their bohemian daughter. Once they decided to make the trip to NYC to support my first-ever feature film premiere, my dad started calling me daily with different logistical questions. He mentioned that they booked a room at 60 Thompson in SoHo, and I told him that [RED DOORS writer-director] Georgia said it was a "hip" hotel. His response: "What does that mean?" "Hip, Dad. Y'know, cool." [long pause] "There aren't going to be any HIPPIES there, right?" He was quite concerned. Mind you, my parents still live in Indiana, which elected Bush twice (okay, three times) and doesn't believe in Daylight Savings Time because it upsets the cattle.

Just before the festival, my parents went on a business trip to Amsterdam, where they were teaching a few seminars. Apparently, they also found some time for sightseeing...they spent the better part of a day in the red-light district, "window-shopping" and attempting to take photographs of the "merchandise" without getting arrested by the Dutch police. Not to worry, though - they made it safely back to Carmel, Indiana. Good thing, too, because the next day my dad had to drive my popo (grandma) and her Chinese senior citizens group to a sheep-herding-slash-shearing workshop called the Fleece Fair. I have to admit that I was a little jealous -- you can take the girl out of the farm, but...well, you know the rest."

[honglien123]

My dad was put to work as a fisherman when he was 9 years old. By 18, he was so successful, that he was supporting his parents and siblings as a fisherman. Fast forward some thirty years; dad decided to take me and my husband fishing one day. Dad hadn't fished in some time, having switched professions some dozen years prior, however, he was still cocky about his skills as a fisherman and was determined to pass these skills on to me. Nevermind that he used to fish on a boat with a giant net in the middle of South China Sea, and we just happened to be hanging some lines over a pier in the Port of Oakland. He hooked my line and demonstrated the correct casting method and told me to try. So, of course, I do my best approximation of the expert fisherman. I held onto my rod with one arm, swung back, and as I was swinging my line forward, it caught on something...my dad's cheek. Um...oops!

I distinctly remember wincing and bracing myself for the expected knock on the head, but all he did was laugh at me and exclaimed, "No more fishing for you!" We didn't catch anything else that day.

[MrChairmanMao]

My parents are recent immigrants here but they’ve always stressed the importance of an education. On one of my very first report cards in elementary school, it showed an A in every subject except for one which showed an A+. So I showed this to my dad thinking he’d be proud. Well, with his limited English, my dad assumed that the A+ was worse than an A and he actually yelled at me for my “poor” performance. So I was stuck – either tell him he’s wrong and redeem myself or stay silent and spare my dad the embarrassment. I chose the latter and I still laugh every time I think about that moment.

[DC]

the art of war

Ma: 最近有新聞嗎? (Any news lately?)

Me: 什麼新聞? (What news?)

Ma: 你的男朋友啊! (Your boyfriend(s)!)

Me: 媽aaaaaa! (Maaaaaa!)

Ma: 男的朋友! (Friends who are boys!)

Me: 媽aaaaaa! (Maaaaaa!)

Ma: 怎麼？你都二十三歲了！你應該讀讀孫子兵法改進你交男朋友的技術...然後不管你要什麼男人都能得到. (What? You're 23 years old! You should read The Art of War to improve your strategies...then you will be able to get a hold of any man you desire.)

[JG]

My dad is the stereotypical Korean ajushi. He rarely shows affection, walks through doors first and doesn't hold the door open for my mom, etc. He also doesn't really pay attention to what's going on around him. For example, when we're at a restaurant and he decides that he's finished with his meal, he'll just get up and pay for the meal and go outside, expecting us to just follow him outside. One time, he did just that and he got in his car that was parked right outside the window of our booth. So, here we are still finishing up the meal and he's sitting in the car, just waiting. He didn't realize that we hadn't followed him out until he got into his car and saw us still in the restaurant. We're looking out at him...he's looking in at us. It was pretty hilarious.

[Glennia]

My dad liked to spontaneously recite very bad poetry when we were kids. One of his favorites when someone was sad:

Things are bad
They could be worse
If it weren't for your ass
Your belly would burst!

This one made my brothers howl ("dude, he said 'ass'!"). My mom would give a very disapproving, "YOBO! AIGU!" ("honey, don't do that!")and walk away in disgust.

[eliaday]

When I was younger, I wanted curly hair. My hair is Asian-straight - it just does, well, straight. One day, I took a comb, and wrapped a huge chunk of my hair around it and started twirling and twirling. It was a big clump of hair right from the front of my head.

I tried to unroll it to unveil what I thought would be my beautiful new curls. To my surprise, my hair was stuck. Really stuck. I ran to my dad for help. He took one look and decided that the only think to do was to cut my hair, because obviously, my hair would grow back.

Hearing this, I freaked out. There was no way I was cutting all that hair off. Instead, I made him take scissors and clip apart the comb into itty bitty pieces to save my hair. Which not surprisingly, was still straight.

[Different JG]

This is probably the funniest story about my father that I am allowed to tell.

Even though my father has lived in the US for over 30 years, he still hasn’t fully mastered the proprieties of the English language. About 15 years ago, when he had even less mastery of the English language, he learned the word “butthead” from my younger sister, who was in elementary school. She would say “butthead” all the time, and we would always laugh. In retrospect, I see that my parents didn’t really understand that this was juvenile language and not appropriate in some circles.

Around that time, my father was asked to speak as a pastors’ conference somewhere in the US. Those of you who are experienced in speaking in front of large groups of people may know that it is pretty common to tell some funny stories or jokes as a type of icebreaker. Well…my father decided it would be fun to share my sister’s favorite word with hundreds of pastors (maybe thousands?), and he greeted them by saying, “Hello, buttheads!” [enter sound of crickets chirping, a cold breeze, or tumbleweed rolling by] After what must have felt like hours of awkward silence, he realized that they didn’t think he was very funny, and he decided to move on. I remember him seeming very embarrassed as he recounted the story to us. I don’t think I have ever heard him use “butthead” since he told us about that conference.

If you ever become really good friends with my father, ask him to tell you his “booger” story.

[OTRgirl]

My father is notoriously absent-minded. I was the first child, a girl. The first Sunday that my parents returned to church after my birth, Dad saw a woman holding a baby. He glanced down and said, "Cute kid, what's his name?"

The woman yelped, "OTR Dad! This is your daughter!!"

[Jill Asher]

Can I leave a comment about my grandfather -who happens to still be alive at the ripe old age of 87?

Grandpa Sol comes out to visit us in California (from Del Ray Beach Florida) ever summer for one month. As you can only imagine, it is a tough trip getting out here at his age. But nothing is going to stop this grumpy ol' man from coming out to west coast to visit his daughter, grand daughter and great grand daughters.

So, let's get to the part about being grumpy. Not sure if it is age or the way he grew up.... but Grandpa Sol HAS ALWAYS BEEN GRUMPY. He likes to "kvetch" and complain. Think of that NJ voice - screaming "Marion, Get ME my steak!". I swear, you just have to envision a Seinfeld episode of Jerry's parents (add fifteen years to their age). That is grumpy grandpa sol. We just laugh.

He also likes to tell crude jokes. Again, a generation "thing" - but he does this every summer just to get my mom up in arms. Grandpa Sol is Jewish - so he feels no sympathy cracking a joke against the jew, pollock, black man, white man, indian, cowboy, aliens.... everyone, every color, every shape is FAIR GAME. And he seriously thinks it is funny! The rest of us just roll our eyes... or egg him on when he is in front of my mom....

So now to the funny part of MY story. Last summer grandpa sol was having a hard time swallowing his food. The doctor's told him that he needed to cut up ALL his food in tiny pieces. Marion (grandpa's wife) would take a knife and cut the pieces into miniscule, bite size pieces.... but she wasn't moving fast enough, and grumpy man got MORE grumpy - and ate a piece of steak that was just too big for his esophogus. Guess what, it god LODGED in there. Yup, stuck as stuck can be! We had to rush to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation, which then took him to Stanford Hospital, which triaged him to surgery. Hours and hours passed and we waited for the steak to pass or come out. C'mon? How long can it take to get a steak out of your esophogus??? The doctor's kept coming out telling us that it is REALLY stuck. They had to call the SENIOR Steak remover doctor. After four (maybe five) hours of sugery, they FINALLY removed the steak. (The team of doctors looked exhausted!) They told us they never saw steak lodged in someone's espophogus like this. They even took pictures and it is now in Stanford's medical journal.

Grandpa Sol came home a few hours after sugery, gumpy as EVER..... complained that his new steak was overdone (and every other piece of food was disgusting). You would have thought after hours of surgery, he would have mellowed?

Though he did go back to Del Ray Beach and showed everyone xrays of the steak stuck in him. He was so proud..........

[Superha]

My Dad is not your typical Taiwanese father. He has long hair and is an artist in every sense of the word. As an architect/landscaper, he spends a lot of time in the elements so he has a nice even tan. Many people think he's American Indian. Years ago, on a family outing, he took us on a long drive along a scenic route in Northern California. We happened upon an Indian reservation that was holding a historical open house. Admission was $10 per car. When my Dad pulled up to the attendant, the man took one look at my father and said "Hey, you're one of us. It's free for you." My Dad hesitated for a moment. Then, he held up his hand, gave the man a nod, and said "How, my brother." We drove through and enjoyed a nice, free native American exhibit.

[Summer]

What a fun idea!

I spend alot of time with my in-laws, even though they live 3 hours away. They are contractors/custom home builders, and had driven down to help us with a property we were renovating.

Appa had driven down first, then Umma, and if you know Umma, "Ball-y Ball-y Ball-y" (Quick Quick Quick). So my father-in-law who was being rushed, quickly washed, and while brushing his teeth grabbed a tube of toothpaste. Normal.

Poor Appa, he hasn't lived with children in awhile, or the "Ball-y" caused him not to take the time to read the tube, but poor Appa, he spent the rest of the morning rinsing and getting the taste of diaper ointment (diaper rash cream) out of his mouth, though he did have whiter smile.

[Em]

My dad is The Buffet King. I kid you not, when we were younger, we would go to an all you can eat buffet restaurant and spend hours there. He had a method and he believed this method allowed him to eat more and get his money's worth. One time, he spent a couple hours there and management asked him to leave because they felt like he was eating too much, he raised a stink about how if it's all you can eat, then he should be able to eat all that he can. Finally management relented and ended up giving him a free meal for next time. We went back the next week and did the same thing all over!

[Susan]

My appa really loves multipurpose items. He loves recycling things and he hates appliances that can only do one thing, like our shortlived breadmaker. Two episodes come to mind: we got a puppy, we asked to go to the hardware store to buy the dog a redwood doghouse, like the kind Snoopy had. Appa scoffed. Why spend money on a house for a DOG? He then claimed that he had once been a carpenter and could make a better dog house. So after the puppy had lived in temporary cardboard box housing for a few day, appa unveiled the new dog house. We gaped in disbelief. He had taken a large wooden television set (the kind you see in I Love Lucy), removed the works which created the doorway, and painted it a garish green (think Kermit). Our puppy walked right in, we really didn't invite many friends over. Second example, appa told my sister and I that we were going sledding. We of course envisioned bright shiny new sleds, perhaps with jingle bells. When we got to the slopes, appa brought out a yellow plastic baby bathtub. He packed the bottom with snow, plopped my sister and I in like we were a ghetto bobsled team and pushed us down the slopes. I have to admit, we caught some good air in that thing, passed every sled there.

[Jim Raff]

My dad is a pretty serious guy, but he does like practical jokes on occasion. Once my dad and two brothers and I were camping in Florida. That evening as we were going to bed, my dad said that we should be careful about snakes in our sleeping bags because Florida is home to most of the deadly snakes in the US.

The next morning we boys got up fine and refreshed, but my dad looked like he did not sleep at all. Over breakfast he sheepishly admitted that he worried about snakes all night long.

[Sarah]

Like any self respecting Korean, my dad loves karaoke. Not just karaoke, my dad loves to sing. Fortunately for my family, he has a beautiful bass voice. He always lists this story as one of his top three embarassing moments: Years ago, my dad was driving in hot weather, in pretty slow traffic, with his windows rolled down. He was playing a Korean music tape, and like always, he was singing along to the music. He was getting really into the song, closing his eyes and holding his his fist up to his face, holding an imaginary microphone. When the song ended, my Dad was surpised to hear applause coming from the car next to him. He looked over and the woman in the car in the next lane was smiling and laughing and clapping for my dad's amazing performance.

e-mail: yubeara@hotmail.com

[Sunny]

Bwa Ha Ha! That "How! my brother" story is my favorite so far.
Back in the 1970's when I had returned from Korea the very first time, we had a procession of former students and fellow teachers coming to visit me as they passed through the Boston area, or, sometimes they made a special trip there just because I was there. This was back when I was single, so, it was my parent's home they were visiting. My dad, ever the effusive extrovert, loved every minute of it. One time a former student was scheduled to arrive while I was still at work. I gave him directions to the house but dad figured he'd never have the nerve to show up while I wasn't home. So, he went checking around the neighborhood, and sure enough-he found him in the parking lot of the local ice-cream shop. Just walked up to the only lost looking Asian guy and asked if he was the one. If that hadn't been the right guy, he'd have made friends with him anyway and probably invited him home. That's my dad. Anyway, dad was on foot and this guy had a rental car. So, they cooked up the plan that dad would ride along and show him where I work and take my car home and I would catch a ride with our guest. By the time they got to my office my poor dad was pale as a sheet and almost speechless. You guessed it-the guy's driving scared the wits right out of him. He wouldn't let me in the car with him. Told the guy he could follow us. Awww! And I thought MY driving scared him. It was one of those situations where you couldn't politely laugh at the time, but we positively cackled after the fact.

[thisislarry]

Best advice I ever received from my FIL (obviously from personal expereince):

"Dont ever tell you boss that he is stupid, even if he is."

[Nina]

My dad is kind of self-absorbed. Sometimes it's endearing, and sometimes it's not. But sometimes it's just funny:

My mom had just come home from a long day at work, and my dad had had the day off so he had been given a list of "honey do" projects for the day. Out of the whole list of projects, he had only managed to make it to the grocery store where he forgot to buy most of our groceries, but of course didn't forget his beer, chips, and salsa.

Anyway, my mom was kind of harping on him for not getting things done when my dad, increasingly irritated, burst out: "I went to the grocery market, I got my sunglasses fixed, I went surfing, I went running, I washed my car, and I DID IT ALL FOR YOU!"

My mom and I sat there speechless for a moment, but then burst out laughing. Soon we were literally rolling on the floor holding our bellies. My dad totally did not get it. He really thought that he had done all those things for us, and it never entered his mind that these were things FOR HIM. He still gets grumpy when we mention this incident, but it always makes us laugh.

[thisislarry's wife]

my dad is not very social and prefers to basically avoid people. so, when I got my first job, he had this very valuable piece of advice. he told me in a very serious voice: "never tell your boss he's stupid...even if he is." he unfortunately learned this from personal experience. good advice.

[thisislarry's wife]

hey! I just saw that my husband (thisislarry) stole my story!!! i'll have to make him come up with another one...!

[karenology]

Holy crap, where to even begin. This is my favorite dad story; posted it on my blog a few months ago and will repost it here :)

About three or four years ago, in the middle of a humid, bug-infested Kansas summer, I went home to visit my father. He was raking leaves or something in the little fenced-in front yard of his condo, and I stood outside chatting with him. In the center of the yard, there was a well-tended flower bed, with a cheap fancy lamppost sticking out of it that may have been obtained at my father’s favorite place to shop, Tuesday Morning (he almost bought a doormat from there, that he was going to give his neighbor as a wedding present. His logic? “I looked over at their house and I know they don’t already have a doormat.”).

At any rate, while inspecting the flowers, I noticed this huge beetle, about the size of a Pink Pearl eraser, hanging from the lamppost. It didn’t look to be alive, and I marvelled at its shining carapace and the fact that such a thin spider’s web could support such a monstrous weight. Upon closer examination, however, this beetle was not suspended from webbing, but a bit of sewing thread.

Me: “Hey, Dad? How did this bug get tied to the lamppost?”

Dad: “Oh, I hung it there as an example to the other bugs. The bugs see this guy is dead, and then they know not to come around here.”

Me: ! “Uh, well, does it work?”

Dad: “I think so.”

[Juno888]

If the one who had that price i make sure many people could also happy that time.