A Tour of the Family Manor

My friends are always asking me, "Sai, tell me more about your humble upbringing." After I punch them in the throat and tell them they can't tell me what to do, I lean back in my rocking chair, take off my straw hat, and chew on a piece of hay, and I tell them of my mansion in Topeka, KS.

It is a simple home, with ABSOLUTELY NO HISTORY OF GRUESOME MURDERS/HAUNTINGS. You can't prove any of those skeletons were human. Anyway, the house is full of many lovely amenities, including locks conveniently placed on the outside of the doors of each of the bedrooms, allowing the extra rooms to be rented out as a combination Bed and Breakfast/Minor Security Prison.

Pictured above: The dining room is joined with the kitchen, which allows the residents of the manor to watch over their food preparation by the servants. This is particularly helpful if your waitstaff is not to be trusted and you fear a violent, class-based insurrection.

The backyard is spacious with handy rain-warning system for the weather-conscious owner. If it begins to rain heavily, the pipes burst instantly, flooding the basement, warning the occupant to bring an umbrella before going outside.

Pictured above: The living room is nicknamed "The Den" because of its cozy couches. And the den of foxes that feed off table scraps and visiting children.

So, if you are ever in the neighborhood or are a white-collar criminal, come on down!

Pictured above: Welcome...to elegance!

Tumultuous Travels to Topeka

Chicago's winter is overstaying its welcome. We all were happy to pull our scarves from our accessory closets and say the word "sleet" a lot back in January. We all enjoyed the playful little blizzard that dumped a caricaturical amount of snow on the hipsters' fixie bikes. But now it is late March, and since I have still not developed a thick layer of insulating blubber (despite my 2 sticks of butter per week minimum), I was forced to migrate south for Spring Break. Ah, the vast, scorching plains of Kansas will surely warm my frostbit heart.

Pictured above: Topeka rules!

Yes, I am back in Kansas. Home of the #1 ranked college basketball team and the #1 ranked anti-gay, military funeral picketers. This is my home. The state where I rose to fame and power at a public university, which I still defend was not just a few textbooks in a barn (there was also the Medical School barn).

Pictured above: You can almost hear the flowers saying, "I can't believe I went to a state school! What am I going to do with a bachelor's degree in Photosynthetic Theory?"

But enough for now. I should get back to enjoying the quiet dignity of returning to the home of my childhood.

Pictured above: Mom, I can't sleep here. I'm worried the fluffy cloud blanket and pink sheets may just be too masculine.

The Year: In Memoriam (2010-2010)

At only a year old, the year is already gone. Many of us will mourn the passing of 2010, but others know that it was just its time. On this, its last day, I remember some highlights from the break.

The holiday means something special to my family. And by "special," I mean weird. On Christmas day, in honor of the food that had been and will be eaten, my mother took my brother and I on a blistery power-walk through the Shunganunga (its actual name) Park of Topeka. Although my brother and I initially complained at the prospect of "physical activity", it did give us time to work on our respective swaggers.

Pictured above: Haters gon' hate.

Afterwards, we gorged on the finest foodstuffs Kansas had to offer: Panera Bread. For those unfamiliar with the chain, everything is served out of a bread bowl, including the soup, coffee, and your receipt. Veterans like us know that the bowls do not always have to be eaten, and in fact can also double as festive bread hats. These can be re-used for future bread-themed parties.

Pictured above: My brother enjoying his two favorite things: eating and stabbing himself in the hand with a knife.

Then, we all went home to give each other gifts. I presented my brother with his 1st bow tie and my mother with her 145th and 146th scarves. As expected, I received gifts akin to my new lifestyle: socks, undershirts, pocket squares, and men's jewelry. As a 60-year-old man trapped in the body of a 22-year-old, I was ecstatic.

Pictured above: Pocket squares, cufflinks, and collar clips, also known as The Gentleman's Trifecta.

Happy New Year, internet.

Topeka: The Apple That Never Sleeps

Well, here I am. I am far from the glory of Chicago, the riches and splendor of that glittering metropolis of Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts. And today, on this holy day of Turki-cide, I am back home. I am in Topeka, the jewel of Kansas.

The trip went smoothly enough. I was finally able to use my leather travelling bag and try out my special airport outfit.

Pictured above: I wanted to look good for the full body scanning, though I did forget to wear my lead tie.

The MD/PHD program's private jet was a great way to travel, but the champagne fountain really just became annoying above 15,000 ft. And just as I was lighting a Cuban cigar with a $100 bill in double-first-class, I wondered what it would be like to be a "normal" medical student.

Pictured above: If I were, I probably wouldn't have this in my basement. This is the first poster I ever presented at a scientific meeting. Oh science puns, I miss you.

When I arrived at home to my biological mother and brother, we gathered to join in that most magical of holiday traditions: manual labor. I worked to install four sets of drapes in two rooms and hauled furniture through hallways. I was just glad that I didn't have to work in the salt mines this year.

Pictured above: Ooh, this is one of my favorite holiday games! You remove the metal brace from the old drapes with a rusty hammer, and if you begin to bleed uncontrollably, it is said there will be five more weeks of winter. Just kidding, I don't actually believe that! I know that screws and bolts don't control the weather! Poseidon does.

After our feast of this year's tofu harvest and the ritualistic sacrifice of a jar of kim-chee, I departed my house to enjoy the company of my few remaining Topeka "friends." We all played something called "Trivial Pursuit", which is a "board game." From what I understand, these "board games" are a kind of PlayStation made out of cardboard and plastic. They are different in that board games cost less than $300 and do not require electricity. They are the same in that both distract us from our own mortality.

Pictured above: The "game." The version we played was published in the 1980's, so I was placed in a severe disadvantage. My knowledge of leg-warmers and mullets was noticeably limited, though I did do well in the "Hammer-pants" category.

Beet Juice and Other Offensive Stereotypes

The ethnic experience here in Chicago can sometimes be a bit jarring. Back in Kansas, the closest thing to an ethnic festival was getting sushi at the KU Union food court or lying about how you are 1/32 Native American. But here, there is actual diversity! For example, I patronized this lovely Polish restaurant last week.

Pictured above: Come for the borscht, stay for the wall-mounted guns.

This establishment was clearly run out of the back of a house of an elderly Polish couple, and between the broken credit card machine and the static from the Polish television station, it felt like I had traveled back in time. I wouldn't have been surprised if the food was prepared by a team of orphaned children in tweed, trying to get their big break in the New World.

When we arrived, the Mom of the restaurant gave us all complementary juice. Now, can you guess what kind of juice? Why yes, it was beet juice! For a moment, I thought: "Wow, this is an offensive Polish stereotype." And then: "Oh wait, this is real life. Not a television show."

Ater eating our pierogis and cabbage soup, we visited the Puerto Rican festival, and my brother an I blended in about as well as the only two white guys at a Puerto Rican festival can. With approximately 264 varieties of pina coladas being sold, as well as a unsettling amount of food being deep-fried, I, again, began to question the reality of my situation. I mean, this is a serious ethnic festival, right?

Pictured above: Sure, the Puerto Rican Superman was cool, but you should have seen the Costa Rican Green Lantern.

Finally, I topped off my week with a delightful festival for white people. Well, it was a KU Football watch party at a nearby bar, so it was just like being back in Lawrence. Initially, I wasn't going to go (now that I'm a big-city elitist and cannot be bothered with the quaint athletic distractions of the proletariat), but my brother informed me that they were providing a free breakfast buffet.

Pictured above: This is what it takes for me to pretend to like football.

There also was free beer, but for me it was more of a "free chance to make everyone uncomfortable about how I don't drink".

Pictured above: My demographic is supposed to like free beer, right? Is it so wrong that I was more excited by the free fruit salad?

Anyway, I've got to get back to pretending to study for medical school. And what I really mean by that is picking out what tie I will wear tomorrow. Decisions, decisions.