It's the age-old 30-something's dilemma: If you did ecstasy in the '90s, does it mean you've done Molly? Dragging her raver ass out of retirement to revisit her teenaged party days, Mary H.K. Choi throws herself into the belly of the EDM beast to see if there's anything to this Molly business. And to find out if doing recreational drugs as a bored adult is the key to staying young or if this is the worst, most embarrassing and irresponsible idea ever.
Fresh out of college, Mary H.K. Choi booked a one-way ticket to New York City and never looked back. Twelve years and countless jobs and dates and a bajillion dollars in rent later, she'd finally had enough. In Oh, Never Mind, Choi chronicles her decision to let go of New York by looking back at the hilarious and often brutal life lessons the city taught her - about love, money, friendship, and, above all, herself.
My Korean Mom is a bittersweet love letter from Mary H. K. Choi to her mother that hopes to convey the frustration, shame, loyalty, and searing adoration that's part and parcel of being the kid of an immigrant. It's not as if she could tell her mother to her face how much she loves her. That's just not how it's done.
What if there was a secret world where people - among them US soldiers and Silicon Valley wunderkinds - were making themselves smarter? Their reaction times, aptitude for language, problem-solving skills, and marksmanship are all improving, under the watchful eye of scientists and DARPA (the defense advanced research projects agency). Such are the claims of transcranial direct current stimulation - also known as TDCS.
Everybody sexts, right? Or at least that's what the Internet would have you believe. In Dick Pic, Mary H. K. Choi humorously dissects the intentions behind such flagrant oversharing and chronicles the one time a dick pic wasn't just a dick pic but a dick pic so virile and portentous that it had a 50 percent probability of actually making another dick - a sonogram from an ex.