My sister the dinosaur

It was the kind of day — no, week — when everything was just going wrong. The kind of week better spent in bed, curled up under my sheets, crying to something “Dashboard Confessional.”

So there I was, utterly miserable, when my sister gchatted me.

Elaine Omg hahaha
A horrible pic of me got posted on the NYK Facebook
Fml fml!!!!
Me where where where

The night before, my sister and brother had gone to a Knicks game at the Verizon Center in Washington, DC. With Amare and Carmelo out, my sister was there for the “Linsanity.” She even made a poster.

This poster caught the attention of a journalist, who, likely under the auspices of a well-intentioned editor saying: “Go forth, young man, and find an Asian!”, asked my sister why she was a fan of the Linmeister.

Her response? “He’s awesome!”

Seconds passed. Cue awkward staring contest.

In my sister’s defense, when given something unquotable, the reporter is supposed to ask more questions. Like “Why?” “Explain.” “Elaborate.” The guy did none of these.

My brother stepped in[1][2].

The poster also caught the attention of a photographer. He took a picture. It was posted on the Knicks Facebook page. ESPN picked it up.

What should have been a moment of glory for my sister, a die-hard Knicks fan since we immigrated to the city during the Starks and Ewing era in 1992, became a clear example of how the internet can be a not so nice place.

The first comment?


The second?

“5 head!”

The third?

“Yea her forehead is pretty huge”

The fourth?


The fifth —

OK, you get the idea.

The comments were cruel. Fantastically mean-spirited. Absolutely dehumanizing.

The lens had compressed and elongated my sister’s face in the worst way. The fivehead, a prominent feature among us Bowl of Pastas, was on display for the sick, sad world to see.

What normally looks like this:

Looked like this:

It was incredibly unfair. My sister is obviously hot in real life, and most of the commenters were obviously not the sharpest knives in a drawer of really blunt knives, namsayn? If I had absolutely no life, I would have looked through all of their profiles, saved their public images, scoured the interwebs for publicly available information and court documents, and dedicated a viral-worthy blog post to their miserable existences. But, as I absolutely did have better things to do, I decided against it.

Which left me doing the next best thing.


But it went beyond your customary IM laughter. I laughed in real life. I laughed so hard my face turned red, I got sweaty, and I couldn’t breathe. Squeaks could be heard arising from my desk, where I trembled from the lack of oxygen. It’s the kind of laughter that only worsens the more you try to stifle it. The kind that gets you right in the gut.

My terrible day officially became the day I cackled into the ether.

Someone else who was having a bad day called my sister. It’s not really clear what transpired during that call, because the friend was laughing too hard.

“See,” I said. “You’re bringing joy to the masses!”

In typical sports fan fashion, my sister had this to say:

Elaine And someone’s like, “I wonder if she was a Knicks fan before.” That’s the only one I got mad at.

Later, my brother gchatted me. Maybe he had some words of wisdom.

Me the comments are so terrible they’re funny
Allan hahaha i know
Me one of them said she looks like this guy

Allan ahahaha
this is awesome
one of them is like
she can fit a dozen headbands on her forehead
Me hahahahah
Allan “She looks like the leader from iron man”
Me hahahaha
i like that one
someone said the knicks should take it down or she might kill herself
Allan hahahaha
Me my stomach hurts

Soon, the comments died down (with the last ones pointing out the lens distortion),  and the next day, my sister did end up sharing the link on her Facebook.

This all reminded us that the internet, cruel as it is, is a fickle thing. What seems like a big deal now will likely be forgotten three hours from now. Unless, of course, your distorted mug becomes a meme, posted on a blog, reposted on another blog, and posted on reddit.

Looks left and right. So far, so good.

[1] Me: How come the reporter didn’t prod her? Like… How? Why? Maybe he sucks, too.

Allan: Yeah, I think he does suck. Because he asked her one question, then after she answered, asked me the same question. WTF. Give me something else. Pick my brain. I have important things to say!

Me: Hahaha. She probably has no idea what basketball is and was told to look for Asians at a Knicks game. Ooh. I like how I switched to the female pronoun when talking about lack of sports knowledge. I am sexist! Unintentional.

Allan: Sure, sure. MEN ARE SUPERIOR. 

[2] My sibs also got into a Taiwanese paper. My sister used Google Translate.

Came from the south of Virginia, the Pori Bada and his wife Lin Hao (Allan & Elaine Bolipata) said, “In the past, live in New York, diehard fans, has always been the Knicks, Lin Hao, an incredible performance, the enthusiasm of the team once again renewed. ” Pori Bada and his wife opened three hours by car from afar, and production support LinShuHao slogans waving at the scene.

Me HAHAHA. this is great.
Allan  she is having a rough week
Me  the knicks, source of misery.

4 responses to “My sister the dinosaur”


  2. Haha what a great read. Elaine, those people are idiots! They’re just jealous that you made it on the Knicks fb page and they didn’t. At least you have a great story to tell! My fave part of this post is the journalist thinking you and Allan were married. Hahah too hilarious.

  3. LOL. Again.

    Great read. Thanks for sharing!

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