Laura in CyberLand

Dude #3

2012-02-13T19:51:00.000-08:00

S scolded me. He wants to see a spreadsheet of freebies collected via online dating, and I wasn't meeting expectation. I addressed this issued by suggesting to Dude #3 that he take me to a comedy show -- an activity with high $ value.

The comedian was pretty funny. Between acts, Dude and I chatted about the drinks we'd been served at the club, and I mentioned the collection of rums I received for Christmas. He responded to this by inviting me to taste rums after the show at his house. He apparently keeps a collection of premium rums.

Aware of my choices, I pondered the possible responses:

(1) acknowledge his see-through attempt to get me drunk at his house and refuse

(2) resolve to make out with him, and gain access to the multi-national collection of rums

What can I say. The rums were delicious!

---

German Roommate thinks that online dating will be easy. He filled out a profile, which says he "likes chick flicks" and he's "really good at smiling."

GRoommate then stated his plan to write to exactly one girl, for her to respond to him, and then for her to join him for a date.

Despite the terribly low chances of this occurring (not to mention the fact that he hasn't written to her yet) he has started shopping for outfits for the date. Knowing GRoommate, he'll just spend a bunch of cash on more cardigans and boat shoes, and never do any dating.

Over the Hill

2012-02-02T22:45:00.001-08:00

To continue my awesome-gifts-streak from xmas, for my long-anticipated 30th bday I received beers, wine, liquor, port, and... some wind chimes.

I celebrated the event with a party, where I apparently...


led a conga line,	slapped someone,

kissed a moose,	celebrated 3 decades by triple fisting,

... and drank tequila out of my friend's belly button.

Maybe 30 isn't so bad after all. :)

Officially Single

2012-01-24T22:52:00.000-08:00

Having an online profile makes me "officially" single. This means that
(1) I bond instantly with friends that are also official
(2) People who are not dating frequently do so vicariously through me.

---

Vicarious dating
In the past 2 months, my non-single friends have

requested to see my profile
demanded edits to profile text (deleted my fart joke!)
taken new photos of me
required me to do/wear certain things for prolonged photo shoots
MADE ME GO SHOPPING.

They dragged me against my will into malls and shopping centers, and somehow, only a few hours later, I found myself exiting a Banana Republic having traded perfectly good alcohol money for an article of clothing.

Influenced by peer pressure, I now own a pair of (too tight in my opinion) jeans, a shirt with no holes whatsoever, and a Banana Republic sweater. Given exactly three articles of Date Approved Clothing, every dude I meet up with meets the exact same me: jeans + shirt + sweater.

---

Instant friends
Friends who are also online dating are THE BEST. We read about, judge, and complain about online dates together! Sometimes we help one another too; I helped S by writing to another cougar from his profile. My roommate is joining the site which is great, I can complain about online dating on a daily basis, from the comfort of my own home! Roommate is from Germany, when he reads things online, he asks me questions like "Hey Laura, what does 'kinky' mean?"

Thanks to blogging, people have started to send some of their best-of-online-dating. When online, girls get messages frequently, and respond to very few men. This means sending a message is tough for guys, the goal being a rare and cherished response. Some men don't seem to succeed at this:

Isint Palo alto porn capital of the world?

i'd be really happy to hear from you. i know you are a think outside the box gal not intimidated by my...maturity, right?
[aka: Nasty Old Man]

Do you like Asian? Are you racist?

I couldn't help but notice your eyes glistening at me like freshly fallen snow from the first snowfall of the year. Immediately my throat became dry and I just sat there silently gasping how I could be so blessed as to view such heavenly blessed beauty.

You look familiar. Did you go to Gunn H.S.? Want to see a movie today?
[Um, that's not a peer. He was a teacher at Gunn HS.]

Last, an actual answer to a standard profile question (the most common answer for which is "why would I post something private on the internet?")

The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I have a VERY large "member". It's actually really embarrassing. Since this is a pretty sensitive subject for me, and a problem for most women, I want to get that out of the way ASAP.

Dude #2

2012-01-15T22:55:00.000-08:00

Coworker likes to hang out with me, because after listening to stories about my dating life, she feels extra happy to have a husband. "After you and I went out, I just went home and hugged him so much!"

Thanks, Coworker.

---

Before date #2, I called S to prepare.

Me: I'm going on a brunch date tomorrow.
S: Order the lobster! And put it on your spreadsheet of free things you collected.
Me: [eye roll] C'mon S... lobster? For brunch?

What do you know. On the date itself Dude #2 told me that he makes $425/hour, and when I asked him what I should order, he opened the menu and pointed to a crab crepe. They do serve shellfish for brunch!
Given new details about Dude #2's financial situation, I marveled at my luck, and began to congratulate myself... what an awesome online gold digger I am!! Unfortunately, he proceeded to spend the rest of brunch talking about how great he is at taking people's money and generally acting like a big jerk/bore.

I attempted to feign interest like a good trophy wife should do... but in the end, dammit why are the rich ones always annoying?!

---
Conclusion: online dating is not going so well.
(to answer your questions [1] he is a lawyer [2] the outrageously priced crepe was delicious!)

My alcoholic holiday

2012-01-05T13:05:00.000-08:00

Like many of us, I often receive xmas gifts that are not exactly useful. Long-time blog readers may recall that my family is exceptionally gift-impaired (umm, a hose attachment? For Christmas??) and that I have tried a number of strategies to address the problem, listed below in increasing levels of desperation
1. Making a list of things I want
2. Emailing links to exact items I want on Amazon
3. Asking to receive one specific item and nothing else
4. Asking not to receive presents at all. (Sad, I know. No, none of the strategies worked.)

Having seen no success with any these attempts, I was feeling a bit demoralized... until I finally realized something that should have been so obvious all along: alcohol.

I bought wine for my parents and beer for my brother, making the gift-purchasing process quite painless, considering. In return, they got me
(1) liquor
(2) a pair of socks
(3) liquor
(4) more liquor.

Yup. Multiple-hundreds of dollars worth of liquor. Maybe it's not as good as, say, the backpack I sent the Amazon link for, but hey, at least it's not a cow statue. And, goddammit... this xmas gift is going to get used.

Dude #1

2011-12-23T23:23:00.000-08:00

Having returned un-triumphant from my Vegas trip - without any rich new husbands - I begin to conduct those dates I scheduled before, confident that I will soon discover my wealthy, breakdancing, comedian prince from Australia/Italy/[Other Hot Nationality Here]. Also, that he will certainly own a jet plane... you know, because justice just has to work that way.

Dude #1 -- excerpt from profile:

The first thing people notice about me:
I look like a mad scientist!!! Mad as in zany, not angry. And maybe not even zany. But definitely science-esque.

As this first coffee meeting doubled as a test of online-dating in general, I chatted briefly with Dude#1, before asking him how these things typically go. His answer was "Way worse that this," and he described at length how bad they usually are.

This was more than a little awkward, and I hope that this was not really his best date. Later in the evening [I am not making this up] he asked me for permission to hold my hand. Possibly an attempt at charm, but the only responses that came to mind were

(1) 'Dude. Don't ask that question to future dates' and
(2) 'You're a virgin aren't you?'

I decided to reply with a simple "I'd rather not."

---

Dude #1: No breakdancing prince.
He did look like a mad scientist though! Kinda Awesome.

Vegas

2011-12-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

"Oh my gaaaawwd! You are SO CUTE!"

Although we worked very hard in Vegas, Coworker and I found a window of time between 10pm and 6am for a brief break from our immense responsibilities. After some drinks at the first Vegas club, Coworker was hanging off guys' arms and raving about how cute they were.

"If I weren't married, I would marry you!!!" she exclaimed. Then, given that I am not married, she would command "Laura, come here! Isn't he just SO CUTE!? You should sleep with him!!!"

---

After collecting a few more drinks in the next Vegas club (thanks, So-Cute-Guy-#2 and So-Cute-Guy-#3!) memory of the weekend gets a little fuzzy.

If I did pick up a ridiculously rich husband, maybe he's one of the guys in this collection of business cards & napkin-digits in my purse? Either that, or one of the new contacts in my phone labeled "Hot Tub Guy" and "Martini Dude w hair."

Still hoping to discover vague memories of becoming a trophy wife in Vegas, though chances are looking slimmer with each passing day. Disappointing. To cheer myself up, I'm giving myself the pat-on-the-back for the digit collection win... at least until I find the jet plane.

Staying on Track

2011-12-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

As an almost-30 year old, on the verge of a significant decade marker in life, I contemplate my progress through life quite frequently. What am I supposed to be doing? Am I succeeding? Why haven't I become a trophy wife yet?

To address these important questions, I constructed a long-term plan that will keep me on track. Starting this weekend!

[1] In Vegas: Marry rich old dude this weekend, while still a qualified youthful 20-something. Then... be rich! Drink champagne! Try eating "foie gras." Fly on personal jet plane at least once.
[2] Mid-term: Make (or purchase?) a Little Laura or two. Get divorced and lose custody, so I only have to watch the kids once a month. Use Little Laura(s) to see cute kid movies, without people at the theater thinking I'm a weirdo.
[3] Long-term: Invest hard-earned divorce $ on a face-lift, and white Jaguar convertible. Be a hot cougar! If Little Laura(s) grow out of kid movies, simply replace them with similarly-aged young men.

Yay life plan! When I get back from Vegas, I'll post the address of my new mansion. Come on by, you can ride in the jet plane!

Candidates

2011-12-04T11:11:00.000-08:00

"Y'all dun comin' for beer?"

On our Houston business trip, Coworker and I blasted country music in the car, talked with exaggerated Texas accents, and drank so many beers we fell over on the street our way back to the hotel.

Next weekend for work, we are going to Vegas.

---

In the meantime, I have narrowed the date applicants to a short-list of candidates! They are:

A lawyer who tells lawyer jokes.
French dude, who is an executive French chef.
An engineer who thinks my fart jokes are funny.

I have assigned them each a time slot, and informed them of where to show up. If they drive the 30 miles to meet during their assigned time, I'll travel the other 4 blocks to the coffee shop, and allow them to purchase me a beverage.

Hiring

2011-11-28T22:04:00.000-08:00

Online dating feels frighteningly identical to job hunting.

I post a profile, aka: opening for a Significant Other.
Dudes review the ad, compose cover letters.
I read the letters, if they are good, I read their resume profiles too.

As a chick in Silicon Valley, it is an employer's market. Based on the applications I've reviewed, there is a noticeable shortage of demand... in the computer programming field.

Feeling overwhelmed by all of it, I asked S for advice.

Me: What do I do with all these messages?
S: Well, if you go on some dates, you can make a spreadsheet of all the free things you get.

Omg, S IS A GENIUS. (Interviews, here I come!)

It begins.

2011-11-21T20:36:00.000-08:00

The online dating site helps people compose their self-descriptions by providing standardized essay questions for everyone to fill in. "Things I'm really good at" or "You should message me if..." To give you an idea of mine,

The most private thing I'm willing to admit:
Although your ideal woman would always smell like roses, my farts smell like poo! I know! Gross!

Despite statements designed to communicate my clear lack of date-ability, an impressive number of emails is flooding my inbox. So far, I check them regularly for the ego boost, judge their content, and decide that I'm too good to bother replying to anyone.

Endless stream of validation! Woo!

---

[update]
After several days of wading through messages, I finally received a one that I liked. So I clicked on the guy's profile.

I just moved to the area and am looking for a good time. I have been happily (if somewhat uneventfully) married for 8 years, and I am expanding to include new lovers in my life.

Should I go on a date with him? To address this important question, I compared his information to my handy list of New Requirements for Significant Others. And you know what? He doesn't pass requirement #2- No Polyamory.

Whew. Good thing I wrote that list.

But now with Experience.

2011-11-08T23:10:00.000-08:00

Having completed the longest-interview-ever, I find single life to cause an uptick in my

- blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd out open car windows

- hitting on the guy behind me in line at the ice cream shop (um... free ice cream)
- detailing plans for my cougar life (red nails, leopard print pants, cosmopolitans)

I'm also adding to my...

New Requirements for Significant Others
[1] Able to do at least 10% as many pushups as me
[2] Has not dated a polyamorous married woman for an extended period of time.
(What? Did i forget to mention that IG dated a polyamorous married woman? Seriously.)

---

Along with this, I reviewed my, uh, not-particularly-flattering blog series about IntGuy, and you know what? I lied to you guys.

On April 9th, I wrote about a few dates I'd been on, and said about one anonymous guy: "I irrationally invest in [him] excessively for 3 weeks. Only to discover that he's a disastrous wreck in relationships." <--that was IntGuy! I knew it, didn't admit to it, and kept investing for 5 more months. What was I thinking.

[On a side note, the person that left comments on that same blog entry, is the date I called "Mr Stingy" for not paying for my drink. Oops... apparently my blog can be found on google. (Note to self: remove last name from blog before starting to date again.) ]

I have a baby and/or disease.

2011-11-02T13:24:00.000-07:00

No, I am not pregnant. I am achieving my life goals.

Problem:

Having tired of making non-profit wages, I may start hunting for a new job. This is unfortunate, as a New Company may require me to, say, change out of my pajamas on some days. Or start work before 11am. Or even worse, work 40 hours every week!!

Plan:

Acquire both freedom and cash flow -- find a part time job that pays a lot of $$ per hour.

Strategy:

Women are often allowed part-time work when they have children. So I'll just make up a baby and/or disease! For upcoming interviews, I am practicing the line "I am a go-to, hard-working, hyphenated-adjective employee who makes companies tons of money! Too bad my made-up baby and I both have cancer, and you are either an evil insensitive corporation or you will hire me to work Mondays through Wednesdays from 10am to 4pm."

It is going to be great.

Done.

2011-10-28T13:22:00.000-07:00

That’s right. Interview Guy told me that I’m so ridiculously needy, and I responded that he is incompetent, so he said he's sick of my attitude…

… and for the next two days, I went camping with S who (bless his heart) dealt with me acting totally melodramatic for like 24hrs straight.

3:00p [In tent, tossing snotty tissues all over S’s camping gear]
“S, I thought I was happy, but really I have nothing.” HOONK, grabs new tissue. “And you know what else? I have my period which mean I’m leaking both snot and blood. WWAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

4:50p [In an attempt to cheer me up, S forces me out of the tent and onto a hike, where I begin flailing wildly]
“You know what!? IntGuy was a JERK.” Punches air repeatedly. “Who the hell dumps a 22year for someone he interviewed! CREEPS LIKE THAT SHOULD BE SHOT.”

5:12p [Lying flat on back on side of trail refusing to hike]
“No, S. I’m fine. TOTALLY OK. I’ll just lie here… being single... who needs a relationship. I’m just great.”

---

After camping, S went home and made me an online dating profile. He didn’t even ask me permission.

Bickering.

2011-10-12T23:01:00.000-07:00

Interview Guy and I are not doing so great. I apparently react to the stress by self-righteously moping around and hiding in my room a lot, as we all know that doing useful things -- like showering, or eating food -- is not required when your boyfriend is being annoying.

"Oh no! Is this because he read your blog??" you ask.

Well, while he didn't find the blog nearly as charming as, say, me for example, the bigger conflicts are more like:

Me: Oh my god! Do you ever call people back!?!
IG: I have a no-talking-to-people policy on all Mondays.
Me: I'm not talking about Monday.
IG: This also applies to all times I am at work, out with my friends, or not in the mood to deal with my phone.

You get the idea.

And while I'm at it... did I tell you that IntGuy can't do a push-up!? A single push-up!
OMG. I DESERVE BETTER.

New York City

2011-10-06T16:23:00.000-07:00

I went to the Wall Street protest, to see all the people sleeping there, despite the super cold weather (er, cold to my wussy CA self). I had planned to preach about a made-up country that suffers grave injustices at the hands of the US, but ended up just watching all the chaos.

"Where are you from?" my friend's roommate inquired. "You are way too happy to be a New Yorker."

---

My friend S has been online dating. Before my New York trip, he mentioned a recent development.

S: A cougar has been visiting my profile.
Me: Who is she?
S: 42 and HOT
Me: S, you only have a few good cougar years left, you know.

Realizing the urgency of S's situation, I reached over and grabbed his laptop from him. And immediately wrote her an email.

I hear she replied... woo!

"What's with all the racist jokes?"

2011-09-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

This question has been asked of me by several people in recent past, resulting in this conversation with my friend S.

Me: I have been hanging out with you too much.
S: How come?
Me: People keep asking me why I'm telling so may racist jokes.
S: Wait a sec, I don't tell racist jokes!
Me: [looks incredulous]
S: [defensively] They aren't racist jokes! They are sexist jokes, ageist jokes, and class jokes.

I roll my eyes for a moment, and when I look back at S, he is staring at me with an expectant grin.

S: Well?
Me: What?
S: You're gonna tell me the racist jokes, right?

S is such a great friend.

I'm in Trouble.

2011-09-25T23:17:00.000-07:00

I had a couple people over for a bbq, and Interview Guy came by. Afterward, I asked him who he’d chatted with at the event, and he responded with a question.

IG: Hey, does your brother know that we’re dating?
Me: No, I don’t tell family about my life… oooohhh wait… [mumbling realization to self] but he does read my blog…
IG: [pause] Wait. You have a blog!?

Um yeah... I'm in trouble...

---

Update: the verdict is in. HIV negative once again!

IntGuy owes me.

2011-09-11T22:42:00.000-07:00

Interview Guy wants me to get tested. This is annoying because
1. he thinks he is worth a trip to the clinic
2. I have crappy health insurance

So I called a number of places to see how much it would cost to get tested, and I was finally forwarded to a place that was not a ridiculous rip off... The catch? If I wanted to make it for their clinic, I had to leave right away. After throwing on some clothes and hopping in the car, my (obviously very old) jeans totally ripped wide open. Cruising down the freeway, I looked down at myself to make the following observations:

1. My jeans have paint hand-prints all over them, on top of showing off my…
2. … half-bare ass, thanks to the new rip which showcases the entire left side of my naked butt
3. The bra I threw on underneath my tiny too-lazy-to-change-out-of pajama tanktop is barely covered by said tiny tanktop and therefore sticking most of the way out of my shirt and
4. I totally forgot about the giant hicky on my neck. (omg, IG kisses like a vacuum cleaner)

I am almost surprised they didn’t rush me to the front of the line, to increase the safety of their other STD testing patients.

The forms at the place were hilarious. What gender do I identify as, and is it the same gender I was identified as at birth? What types of sex have I had with what genders of people this year? My favorite question was “How many people have you had sex with in the past 12 months (please enter 001-999)”

In the past, I haven't had to get tests because I've made the guys go -- girls get to be high maintenance that way. This is apparently common, as I was the only female waiting to get tested in a room full of men, who presumably also have crappy health insurance. That being said, I found myself being frequently eyed by fellow patients in the STD clinic waiting room... a disgusting plight which brings me back the my original point... IntGuy owes me.

Can I? Can I?

2011-09-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

IntGuy is back from hiking. During a normal conversation this weekend, he remembered something he was very excited about, and interrupted me to tell me about it.

IG: I saw a sexist video online!
Me: Huh?
IG: I saw a sexist video! Can I show you? Can I? Can I?

IntGuy jumps off the couch to get his laptop from the other room. When he returns, he opens his gmail. Initially, he looks at the long list of emails with uncertainty, but then lights up again as he types "sexist" into the seach field.

The video itself was an old commercial by Goodyear, arguing that quality tires are important because your wife is stressed/confused/incompetent when driving. Amusingly offensive as the commercial was, I found the lead-up to be more fun to watch than the result.

---

On that note, I went on a trip to San Diego for a conference in August. While I was there, I accidentally ran my rental car into a pole in a parking garage, seriously denting and scratching the front-right fender.

Sometimes, people give me a hard time about being too White. To those persons, I would just like to say: Hah! Take THAT!! Asian stereotypes have me to thank.

(Note: in my defense, the rental was not equipped with female-driver-approved tires.)

Laura vs Scale

2011-08-25T23:26:00.000-07:00

Battle #1: March 2011
When I saw the scale in my friend’s bathroom, the idea came to me:

I weighed myself.
I peed.
I weighed myself again.

I always assumed that when I peed, I lost about one pound. I was disappointed to returned to a scale that changed by only 0.5lbs.

“More beer!” I demanded upon exiting the bathroom. Drinking would award me another chance.

Three 0.5lb pees later, I began to get frustrated. Dealing with a digital scale that had only half-pound resolution, I wondered if it was the scale that was failing me. I tested.

Weighed myself. Drank 12oz beer. Weighed myself again: increase 1.olbs. Dammit! My bladder’s ego was crushed.

Comeback: August 2011
It is ok to fail at something if you learn from your mistakes. In reviewing my failure, I pinpointed my weak point as my eagerness. In returning to my friend’s house, I would exercise patience with the scale, hold the pee longer, and give it time to amass more weight.

The result? Weigh myself, pee, weigh again. 1.5lb difference!!

Take that, scale! Bladder ego reinstated. Mission complete.

Back home

2011-08-12T18:45:00.000-07:00

Ending my big vacation to France is a downer. In summary , the crepes were outstanding, the public transit was impressive, and the people got really appalled when I told then about the American health care system.

They asked questions about the healthcare a lot. And usually reacted with more being appalled.

Also, I did it! The day before I left, I ate a snail -->

---

Interview Guy is off backpacking the John Muir trail. Why would someone choose to schlep 50lbs of outrageously costly equipment through hundreds of miles of nothing, and go several weeks without any forms of communication whatsoever? Don't ask me, I opted for France.

Before he left:

Me: I'm going to miss you
IG: [silence]
Me: *Ahem* Are you going to miss me too?
IG: [pause] I guess?

Sigh.

I mentioned about this conversation this to my friend R. Incredulous at IntGuy's reply, he asked if IntGuy had ever had a girlfriend before. Honestly, the answer is "not really."

In response, R offered the advice "You are what I call 'Grade B Single.' You go on dates and remember how annoying it is to date. So you'll appreciate IntGuy when he gets back."

Mediterranean Sea!!

2011-07-30T00:21:00.001-07:00

Surprisingly, French women actually do go topless at the beach. Not being used to naked boobs on display, it was nice to have sunglasses, as this made it easier to stare at people without them noticing. Older women were more likely to wear bikini tops. No one wore those 1-piece suits that old women wear in the US, the French women were generally skinnier and in better shape even when older.

Also, I waited for a number of ladies to raise their arms in an attempt to spot armpit hairs... other than my own, I didn't see any hairy legs or arm pits. Oh well, apparently that stereotype is only true in Berkeley.

--

That said, I made it to the French Riviera!! It was awesome. I basically sat on the beach for 3 days... yeah, awesome pretty much describes it. Especially after a solid week of rainy weather (note giant clouds in every previous photo)

Oops... couch.

2011-07-26T02:41:00.000-07:00

I have been traveling too much. Why do I say that? Well, when I finally got to Christophe's wedding on Saturday, I was so tired that I laid down on a couch and promptly fell asleep...through the entire event. That's right, I slept for four hours! At a wedding!

When I finally did wake up at 1am and tried to re-join the few people left at the party, I got made fun of. A lot.

(photo taken at the beginning, when I was still awake.)

---

Wine country was AWESOME.


Wine country -- possibly my favorite part of the trip so far. I rented a bike in an area with lots of bike paths, leading to little villages spaced 2 - 3 miles apart.	The bike paths go through the wine fields. They don't follow the street, so it is very peaceful and pretty.	The wines in the little villages are delicious. In Beaune (part of Burgundy where I was) the wines are usually Chardonnay.

France

2011-07-23T18:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'll be wandering around and I'll notice someone -- a kid perhaps -- speaking in a foreign language. "Wow, that kid is bilingual!" I'll think to myself, impressed.

And then I'll remember, "oh yeah, I'm in France. He is speaking... in French."

---

Anyway, I did a lot of stuff in Paris, and generally saw a lot of... tourists. After Paris is wine country, wedding in Lyon, and the Mediterranean.


Paris Streets -- cobblestone!	My little room -- NE paris.	Self taken portrait -- view of city.


Notre Dame -- that super famous cathedral built in the 1100s is right in the middle of Paris. It's where the hunchback stories and stuff come from. It is enormous.	Mona Lisa -- is in the Louvre. People always complain it's small and far away. It wasn't that small. Apparently it is so famous because it was some king's favorite painting.	Louvre glass pyramid -- The Louvre used to be France's royal palace. It's the biggest museum in the world, and it is HUGE. The pyramid, in my option, was pretty tacky (super old building with super modern centerpiece? Weird.)


	Versaille -- is outside Paris. It was the new palace starting in the 1700s, and it is RIDICULOUS. That building in the background is only part of the palace. And it is only the main palace at that, there are more mini-palaces around the grounds.	Versaille gardens -- you think that garden looks ridiculous? Well those things go on for miles. Literally miles and miles of perfectly manicured gardens and fountains that you wander through, get lost, walk more trying to find your way back, fail, until your feet practically don't work anymore, and then feel bad for yourself. Being royal must suck.

Bonjour!

2011-07-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

I get lost a lot in Paris. You'd think this photo is of me excited to see the Eiffel Tower, but really, it is excitement about actually arriving there, after 3 hours, 2 metro tickets and lots of excuse-me-how-do-I-get-to-the-Eiffel-Tower charades with French strangers.

If only I knew how to hail a French taxi...

Next on the Paris list:
- Louvre
- Versaille
- Notre Dame
Then, off to wine country!

I win?

2011-07-18T14:50:00.000-07:00

Interview Guy is no longer dating Blondie. This is ostensibly because he likes me better, but from what I can tell, the gal moved away (to escape the smell?)

Unfortunately, this break up did not occur before last weekend, when I was munching some of the leftover salad on his kitchen table before noticing the empty bottle of wine next to it... I was eating her leftovers from the night before.

Serious ew!

---

That said, I’m off to Europe now, France specifically, for two weeks! I am going to a wedding, and I know, because everyone always tells me, you can’t imagine me going to a wedding because I’d have to wear a dress. Well, if it helps at all, I stopped by CVS last week to grab a $3.99 pair of flop fops to wear with it. And in case those go wrong, I also have my ankle brace.*

*Did you know: You can wear any kind of shoes you want to a wedding, so long as you add an ankle brace to your outfit.

Mystery email

2011-07-08T21:11:00.000-07:00

Normally, when I receive an email in Chinese, I ignore it completely. This time, however, someone on the email thread responded with "Happy Birthday!" to my mother, resulting in a new string emails from my brother.

Bro: Oh shoot. Do you know when mom's bday is? Also, how old is she? Does she turn 60 sometime?
Me: I checked my calendar -- last year, I marked the 26th, but the year before I have the 25th. Also, I have no idea how old she's turning. 59? 60?

We scoured the emails for clues using our essentially non-existent Chinese-reading skills, and failed miserably. In the end, we narrowed it down to the 23rd, 25th or 26th, and something between 59 & 61.

Too bad I'd already planned a trip for that entire week anyway.

---

After I returned, we celebrated her possibly-60th by taking her to a wine bar. Her half-drunk rant this year was about religious people, and how they like to lie about things for money. (oh, my family) Fortunately this time, I have a soon-to-be sister in law! She performed the bulk of the smiling and nodding, significantly decreasing my responsibilities in that area.
Yay sister!

Deal breaker?

2011-06-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

Smart women fall for men who are caring and sensible. I, on the other hand, find myself fallen for Interview Guy -- a person who not only rejected me for a job, but who has now invited me to a weekend retreat with his COMPANY (Really? To see the other people that interviewed and didn't hire me? As if I would want to see more of those people!?)

Plus, his apartment smells terrible.

Like seriously, terrible. Upon smelling his place, I silently questioned his dateability as I plopped down on the arm chair on the very opposite end of the room, despite his motion for me to sit with him on the couch.

He asked what was up, but given the options (1.sit next to his smelly self, 2. tell him he smells) I acted oblivious and pretended that 20ft is a perfectly normal distance for socializing with a dating prospect.

Moving forward

2011-06-14T11:33:00.000-07:00

Getting to know a new dating prospect means sometimes admitting to weaknesses. IntGuy has begun his confessions, which range from the fact that he is currently also seeing a 22 year-old blonde that he met on a ski lift (what, having a crush on a guy results in bad decisions on my part, ok?) and the fact the he sometimes tries too hard when he starts seeing new people.

Me: So you try too hard... how so?
IG: Stuff like, pretending to be into things that they are into.
Me: Like what?
IG: For example with you, I might pretend I'm into drinking lots of alcohol.

I searched for signs of irony in his facial expression.

New note to self: try to appear sober, at least on weekdays.

Big Five Wins!

2011-06-09T14:06:00.000-07:00

"Whoa, what are you working on?"
My roommate M leaned over my shoulder. "Laura in Cyberland! What is that!?"

I have been living with my current roommates for about 3 months -- as is common with new people, I'm laboriously attempting to project an image of normalcy and (even more ambitiously) sophistication.

Them finding the blog is not good for this goal.

---

Most personality tests give sugar-coated results to their users. Like, ADD is repackaged as "adventurous" or socially awkward becomes "independent."

The Big Five test, unfortunately, does not do this. 'Unfortunate' because, despite scoring average on neutral characteristics like Extroversion, I score very high in Neuroticism.

So, after months of hiding my daily & arbitrary spaz sessions from my roommates, my blog betrays my sophisticated image, AND... I am now neurotically fretting about people discovering my neurotic fretting.

Big Five: 1
Laura: 0

Twitterpated

2011-05-31T23:31:00.000-07:00

Having a crush makes me into a moron.

Having completed multiple successful dates with Interview Guy, I find myself unable to do anything productive, distracted by the extremely-important task of wondering what he may be doing at the moment, as if I have any clue whatsoever. This is followed by re-reading emails he has sent me over again looking for any hint about how he may feel about me (finding none), brainstorming up clever next-date conversation topics & jokes, and frustrating over the fact that he has not written me back yet.

I follow up on this brilliant use of time by writing my new jokes up in an email to him, which I edit repeatedly. I then save the email, go back to edit again, and after a few more revisions... delete the email entirely.

Clearly, the beginning of a successful and beautiful relationship.

Manliness proven.

2011-05-17T23:41:00.000-07:00

On our way to a camping trip this weekend, a friend purchased a Swiss army knife with... not twelve standard functions, but with a bonus thirteenth function: a saw.

During the trip, therefore, I was required to wait patiently as said friend partook in a number of extremely slow and painstaking saw-based activities, given the miniscule size of a Swiss-army-knife saw:

Cutting firewood pieces that were already small enough for the fire pit
Creating a cutting board from a log even though we didn't have anything to cut
Making kindling after we already had a fire
Cutting and packing up pieces of wood to bring home

Question for masculinity-proving persons:
When you are participating in your manliness-proving activity, are people waiting for you to finish so they can move on to practical and relevant tasks?

Well if that is the case, I have good news for you! Your manliness is fine as is! In fact, in this special scenario, I roll my eyes to indicate that "you are so strong and powerful." And arm folding is a sign that "I am so overwhelmed by your giant throbbing manliness, that we don't even have to finish this task! We can move on to normal things! Like now."

It was a great camping trip.

Caught

2011-05-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

A conversation from today:

J: Are you dressed up? What's with the earrings?
Me: Uh, they are distracting people from the giant hickey on my neck.
J: Ah! Not very well though.

I already wore my one turtleneck through yesterday's super-hot weather. (As if that isn't a dead giveaway for I-have-a-giant-hicky-to-hide already.)

What am I supposed to do today? Wear the same turtleneck again?

Sellout Fail

2011-04-22T20:07:00.000-07:00

(Alternative Title of Blog Entry: Why not to date people you met while being interviewed.)

According to Interview Guy I was asked at my job interview about my hobbies. While I don't remember any of this personally, I apparently told them I was taking a popping hip-hop class, and they asked me to demonstrate.

"Dance, Monkey Laura! Dance!" the interviewers demanded.

Being an interview, I showcased my sophisticated and professional character by replying, "Of course! Anything you like!"

And then I did a dancing demonstration for my interviewers.

Hmm, not something I want to be reminded about... considering I didn't even get the offer. (Er... didn't get the job offer.)

Tipsy Typing

2011-04-15T12:50:00.000-07:00

Newly discovered benefit of working from home: mid-afternoon margaritas!

Today's margarita has a splash of triple sec, for added citrus flavor. Tomorrow, I'm thinking mint, or maybe tangerine. Mmm, tangerine... delicious.

--

Anecdote of the day: Steve Jobs cut in front of me in the cafeteria.

That's right, I was waiting my turn to order my soba noodles just like everyone else in the Apple cafeteria, when the dude just cut me off and ordered his food first. Given the slow service, I waited an extra 10 minutes to get my lunch because of this -- time I could have used for something useful and important, like making more margarita or writing new fart jokes.

Who does the guy think he is?
He thinks he's Steve Jobs, apparently. He may be right.

Dating... go!

2011-04-09T11:17:00.000-07:00

In recent past, I've gone on a bunch of dates with a bunch of guys. To name a few...

- The hottie I picked up in a hot tub in Tahoe, who turned out to be Mr Wealthy and Successful, workaholic Stanford/Google man, whom my parents would probably marry themselves if they could. Ew!

- The foreign and therefore incredibly interesting man who I agreed to date because he lives on the beach. (hmm, me living on the beach w/o paying a dime? Sign me up!) Unfortunately, after I told him I'd moved recently, he said "life is such a journey, and you are having a new beginning." Wrong answer. Next!

- Of course, the guy I totally fall for and irrationally invest in excessively for like 3 weeks. Only to discover that he's a disastrous wreck in relationships, which results in ample frustration & disappointment on my part, and leads to me putting Peetie (bless her heart) through a multi-hour listening session where I complain about my life. Sigh.

If I hope to have a stable, regular, happy life full of love and commitment and companionship, I am seriously & repeatedly failing. BUT, if I name my goal as being still single at 40 and becoming a cougar who takes advantage of hot young thangs... then I am making great progress.

Free Drink Collection Score this round so far: 7

Unbelievable: There was one guy who didn't pay for me! The nerve! (No date 2 for Mr Stingy)

Stupid but cute

2011-03-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

"You met him where!?"

Friends look at me incredulously when I tell them that I'm going on a date with a guy that interviewed me for a job this winter. "He seems nice," I explain.

They shake their heads, and then continue, confused.

"Uh... Did they hire you?"

"No! I'm not dating my coworker!"

"So... you're dating a guy who thinks your lazy and stupid and unworthy of a job?"

I roll my eyes.

"Of course not! He thinks I'm lazy and stupid and unworthy of a job... and cute."

Duh!

Wisdom

2011-03-22T20:17:00.000-07:00

"So when did you lose your virginity?"

I just moved into a house in Palo Alto, only to discover that most of my roommates are rather young. Like, last-year-they-were-living-in-the-dorms young. I get stuck in a lot of conversations about sorority girls and frat parties, dorm housing, and other things I fail to relate to. I didn't realize, however, that I was going to get asked about my sexual history.

"Um," I said, to buy time as I searched the dust-filled attic of my geezer brain, unable to recall the first time I slept with somebody. "Over ten years ago?" I ventured with uncertainty.

I vaguely remember days when virginity seemed to matter. Over the years, however, the interesting question has changed from 'when' to 'how many.' And by this point in my geezer life... that gets hard to keep track of.

Advice for youngsters:

As the wise house elder, I like to impart wisdom on my little roommie proteges, as they are so innocent and unknowing. "Drink this beer!" I demand, shoving alcohol into their youthful hands. "You won't recover well from binging when you're 29. So drink your alcohol NOW!" No one slacks on their drinking chores in my house.

Growing up

2011-03-08T19:15:00.000-08:00

15yr olds look forward to turning 16.
20yr olds dream of 21.

I, being the old geezer I am, look forward to being a Cougar.

Having asked around, the general consensus is that a Cougar is over 40. This is a disappointment, because it is a long way off. People say I can be a "puma" starting at a younger age, but I prefer to wait for the real title, instead of taking the shortcut.

That said, I see being a Cougar as a duty. In much the way people depend on each of us to live up to our potential in math or science or music, to contribute to society in the most beneficial way possible, I figure that as a baby-faced asian chick, I'm obligated to hit on 20yr olds when I'm an old lady. It's an important job, and who else is going to do it?

--

Also, guess what. I haved moved in! To an actual place! That's right, rent, roommates, furniture, the whole thing. Come marvel at the impossible... I'm in Palo Alto :)

Family Dinner II

2011-02-26T12:25:00.000-08:00

A second type of dinner conversation is when my mom rants. She has a small number of rants that repeat regularly over the course of years. If you have dinner with my family, you you will definitely hear about at least one of

Walmart's delicious $2 wine
The knife she bought in Japan (followed by her forcing you to cut things with the knife to experience the sharpness)
Or my favorite, the kinds of rice she owns.

The rice rant is the oldest, 10+ yrs is my guess. Many of my friends have been through this rant, it usually goes like this:

(My mom talks really loud, and with a Chinese accent.)

[friend enters the kitchen]
Mom: HI LAURA'S FRIEND! DID YOU KNOW, WE HAVE 4 KIND OF RICE!
Friend: [confused] Uh, no I didn't.
Mom: WE HAVE 4 KIND OF RICE!! [pauses for this amazing fact to sink in] IT BECAUSE WE ARE CHINESE.
Friend: [nods uncertainly]
Mom: [counting on her fingers to emphasize] We have jasmine rice... brown rice... basmati rice... uh... sticky rice... OH!! WE HAVE MEXICAN RICE!!!!!! WE HAVE 5 KIND OF RICE!!!! BECAUSE WE ARE CHINESE!!!

I've never asked how it's related to being Chinese. But she gets very excited about it.

Family dinners

2011-02-16T13:43:00.000-08:00

My family likes to eat. Conversation during the meal almost always takes one of 4 forms. One of these forms happens when there are family friends present.

(my chinese parents tend to have chinese friends)

Guest -- Bu bau tao pun?
Mom -- Yao yin ping hua Laura!
Mom & guest -- AHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAAHH!

Sigh, if only I'd tried harder as a kid in Chinese school.

---

My brother had his engagement dinner last weekend. I was dreading it all week, as meeting in-laws does not have a reputation for fun. But then it occurred to me... it's not just that I have in-laws for the first time, but I am an in-law for the first time!

Things I'll get to do as an in-law:
(1) Show up unannounced needing to stay for a week
(2) Borrow money and never return it
(3) Tell people they are not tidy/attractive/wealthy enough
(4) Smell really bad

Man, I'm just getting started. Hooray in-laws!

Self Pity

2011-02-05T13:17:00.001-08:00

"What did you get for your birthday?" people ask me.
"The flu," I reply.

Having been 29 for 7 days, I now have 358 days before kids start calling me "lady" and people wonder what kind of crazy has led to my eternally single state. (Also, my boobs being held up by my belt.)

In the meantime...
"ID please?" In my stuffy-headed stupor, I was confused that the Walgreens lady wanted my ID. My purchase consisted entirely of Nyquil caplets and 'Kleenex plus lotion.'

People keep telling me to take it as a compliment that I look young. Like when the bartender mistakes you for a partying 20-year old, and feels the need to protect you from possibly driving under the influence of alcohol.

Note that this is NOT the same as being mistaken for a 17-year old high school student who is rebelliously going to the corner store without parental supervision, and the check-out lady tries to protect you from sleeping while sick. (Apparently, you have to be 18 to buy Nyquil.)

Future In-Law

2011-01-16T19:15:00.000-08:00

My first in-law-to-be is named Jackie. She is tall. Like even if she was white, you'd still might call her tall. I personally don't know her all that well, so I assume this is why my brother likes her.

Despite this lack of information, one thing I do know is her age.
"Jackie is 28 already!?" my mom habitually exclaims at family dinners, ignoring that fact that I'm older than Jackie. "Cliff, you need to get married and start having children right away. I mean, if she is that old already, you are never going to have a family!"

Sometimes at family gatherings, I wish I were invisible. Other times, I think I am.

I survived. Mostly.

2011-01-08T18:17:00.000-08:00

"Wow, you look exactly the same!" I was told, again and again, by people that last saw me during the age of zits, dyed purple hair, and incorrectly sized bras. The former high school classmates then asked one of two questions: "What are you up to?" or "Uh, do you still go by 'Phil'??"

In the days before the dreaded reunion, I considered telling people the truth -- cold fusion, unemployment, homelessness, etc. But in the end, I was much more successful: I told them nothing!

Q: Where do you live?
A: Oh, in the bay area.

Q: What do you do?
A: Lots of stuff! Today, I went pee like 4 times!

Q: How have you been?
A: Uh... my brother got engaged!

Thanks to my brother, I had an anecdote to tell people that appeared to be personal information, yet revealed nothing about my life whatsoever.

------

In conclusion:
I hid, evaded, said lots of stupid things -- in the end it wasn't so bad. Maybe high school itself would have been borderline tolerable too... had I been holding a free gin & tonic, that is.

Party Time?

2010-12-31T10:14:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not referring to New Year's eve. I'm talking about Giant Debaucherous Party Time.

That's right, I've found and officially accepted a JOB. Employment. Profession. Pretending to do productive things between weekends.
(I saw a couple porkers flap by my 3rd story window this morning...)

What is it, you ask? Well, it's for one of those do-gooder, tree-hugging. non-profit, hyphenated-adjective companies, which pays employees in warm-hugs and liberal-guilt-relief instead of, say, American-Dollars. Thus the question mark at the end of "Party Time?" -- there may not be funds for a party, maybe only Giant Home Potluck With Charades/Pictionary.

This is disappointing, I know. I'm trying to find a workaround... (or at least some alcohol). Stay tuned.

I hear the ring is big.

2010-12-28T18:33:00.000-08:00

My brother got engaged on December 23rd. I heard about it on xmas eve.

"You're the 5th person to know!" he exclaimed, and waited for me to express gratitude for my level of priority. Instead, I wondered how being #5 would be considered a compliment, considering that he has 3 family members. (In his defense, it took 3 months for anyone to tell me that my grandmother passed away, so maybe we're showing improvement.)

"Dammit, this makes me feel old," I replied. "Is the wedding soon?"

"Oh gawd. I'm not even thinking about THAT STUFF... yuck!" He twisted his face with disgust.

"Well let me know when you find out," I said. He had bought the engagement ring a few weeks back, and I had told some friends about it. "Because I already invited like, everyone I know."

Free alcohol...! Bring your friends!!

How old am I

2010-12-20T18:36:00.001-08:00

This Sunday is my high school's 10 year reunion -- I am invited to attend one of the most terrifying, movie-dramatic inventions of our era.

Knowing myself, I will almost definitely show up halfway through the reunion dressed in my pajamas, as I fully admit to being the exact same bratty person that I was at 18, when I habitually showed up halfway through class in whatever I was wearing at the time. (pajamas, generous quantities of eye-gunk, grumpy half-asleep attitude)

If that does happen, I will get many chances to respond to the inevitable "So what have you been up to?" with the very desirable answer "Being perpetually homeless and unemployed, and investing in a string of failed relationships."

Needless to say...

New ideas for high school reunion small talk:
- "I'm an entrepreneur in free-time investing."
- "I know it appears I've been in therapy for years, but really, I'm helping counselors hone their practice, and also paying them!"
- "A few have proposed, but I'm holding out for more hotness/jet planes."
- "Poor? Of course not! The holes in my jeans were professionally tailored to match my skin tone."
- "In fact, my skin is even more radiant now than it was at 18!"

(Umm, any suggestions welcome, please please...)

Hellooooo

2010-12-14T00:43:00.000-08:00

I noticed a set of books at the store, each with an eye-catching title. "Insults and Comebacks." "Jokes." "Pickup Lines."

Having promised that I would use a pickup line on a stranger someday, I studied that one first. Inside this book, each page was titled with a location; pickup lines for use in that location were listed below.

Laundromat:
Hey, the whites go in with the red socks, right?

Grocery store:
What a small world. I belong to the Safeway club too!

Near the end of the book, I was happy to finally find the page for me, titled: "Women to Men." I was eager to study the material, and commit the concepts to memory. These are the lines it listed.

Women to Men:
Hello.
Hi.
Where is the restroom?
Third floor please.
No, thanks.

My new middle name: Pick Up Artist.

Diagnosis: Yellow Fever

2010-12-01T13:44:00.000-08:00

My friend S. was telling me about his new girlfriend. Apparently this girl is in some denial about her Asian background, evidenced by the fact that: she doesn't date Asian men, doesn't date guys who habitually date Asian girls, and most telling, completely refuses to use chopsticks.

Me: So did you lie and say you date white girls?
S: Hey, I dated white girls in college.
Me: Uhuh. Did you date Asian girls too?
S: Maybe one. [ hesitates ] ... and a half.
Me: So there were only one-and-a-half Asian girls at your college?
S: I'm not answering that.

New Goals

2010-11-24T18:18:00.000-08:00

Living in SOMA, the only place to park my car is the ghetto alleyway under the freeway, where homeless people live.

I was rushing out to run errands and search for jobs the other day, when I noticed the regular homeless guy that lives there. He wasn't looking all sick and disheveled like you imagine a typical homeless guy to look. He wasn't crazy or drunk or missing any teeth. This dude was lying snug in his sleeping bag, under the warm sunny patch of the alleyway, head propped on a backpack, happily reading the newspaper.

(Thought process that follows, as I run to my car:)
I am stressed because I need to find work.
And why do I need to find work? --> So I can pay my bills.
If I don't pay my bills? --> I'm homeless --> I lie in bed/sun all morning, reading today's paper.

To Mr Homeless Guy: make some room, you're gonna have company.

Me? Hungover?

2010-11-15T22:11:00.000-08:00

I was sick for a day last week... sore throat, really sleepy.

Shannon called that day to say hi. She told me the cell phone I gave her died after she dropped it off a balcony and exploded it into a million pieces. I told her I ruined the 3-tiered chocolate fountain at a party by spiking it with Kahlua (which apparently causes molten chocolate to clump up, clog the pump, and solidify all over the fountain... oops)

After about twenty minutes, Shannon had to get off the phone, but not before one last question.

Shannon: Wait a sec.
Me: What?
Shannon: Why are you hungover on a weekday?
Me: [confused] Huh?
Shannon: You're hungover on a weekday. What did you do?
Me: Um. I'm sick.
Shannon: You shouldn't drink if you're sick...
Me: I didn't drink! I'm actually sick!

Sigh... other people get sympathy for sore throats.

WE WON!

2010-11-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

I went to the party at the Public House where Arnold and George Schultz gave their victory speeches. They talked about defeating Texas on Monday in the Worlds Series (yay SF!), and then defeating them again on Tuesday in the election. There was lots of cheering.

Some facts:
- No on 23 won by a vote of 61% t0 39%, a huge margin
- More people voted on Prop23 than voted in any of the candidate races, including senator and governor
- In the 6 weeks before the election, we (Sierra Club's 10 organizers and the volunteers we were able to recruit) made over 300,000 dials and talked to 63,000 people about Prop23 over the phone.

Man, that's going on my resume.

Cold Calls

2010-10-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

Everyone likes the idea of messing with a cold caller, by saying weird awkward things to them. As someone who makes a lot of calls for my job right now, I get all kinds of responses. (One from his weekend:)

Me: Hi, I'm calling from Sierra Club about proposition 23.
Him: Ah, Sierra Club. They owe me a donkey.
Me: I'll see what I can do about that. Do you want to hear about prop 23?
Him: Well, I dunno. I'm a communist.
Me: Does that mean you can't vote against prop 23?
Him: I'll do it if you get me a wife. Or a donkey.
Me: Donkey barter for a No vote?
Him: I don't want to jump through any hoops for it though, ok?

I think I got him on board. :)

A perfect 5?

2010-10-16T01:09:00.000-07:00

My brother was the one person who would criticize my appearances. "What are you wearing!?" he'd say incredulously, upon arriving at my house. "And why haven't you shaved your mustache!?"

Now, my friend A. takes his side. A. likes to tell me in that half-joking tone that he can't be seen with me in a club without a mini skirt and heels. He's been telling me this for years now ("where is your party outfit?"). I know he's only half joking because he's never invited me out, despite his going quite regularly. He also never criticized my appearances directly in a non-joking tone... until last week.

A: If we're going out tonight, are you going to wear your mini skirt and heels?
Me: Dude A., I don't have any.
A: [looks at me and sighs] Look. I'm just going to say this, ok?
Me: ... what?
A: Laura, you are an Asian girl with boobs. You could be a 10, but instead, you choose to be a 5.

I wore my hoody today. Cotton is so comfy.

--------

Employment-ette update:
I've been to some second round interviews. They went well but the companies have been taking time getting back to me.
Still looking... still waiting...

Emplyment-ette PARTY

2010-09-18T11:07:00.000-07:00

When girls think about getting married, they envision white dresses, beautiful flowers, and lots of romance. Being much too cynical for any of those things, I imagine up the happiest day of my life as a bachelorette party. (Maddy, how do we get those breakdancing strippers back?)

That said, I think all major commitments should come with a giant debaucherous party before the commitment begins. For me, the prominent major commitment in my life would be: a job. C'mon, you know if I started a job that would be a once-in-a-lifetime event requiring huge amounts of recognition (beer).

What: GIANT DEBAUCHEROUS EMPLOYMENT-ETTE PARTY.
When: The week before work starts
Who: You and everyone you know. And everyone they know.

Updates will be posted.

Your make-out type

2010-08-27T10:41:00.000-07:00

Peetie once did a survey of the Worst Make-Out Music ever. (Winners included the Sesame Street theme song, We are the Champions by Queen, and the National Anthem.) I mentioned this survey to a friend recently, and he responded by telling me that his favorite make-out music is classical music.

Classical. He was not joking.

So, big discovery, different people have different best make-out music -- how did I never think of this! It brings up the following questions:

What is my make out music personality type?
What did people make out to before there was modern music? Or recorded music?

I like to think there used to be the slutty chicks who made out to Bach, when the classy girls liked Mozart. And that the Spanish were getting it on to the sensual flamenco guitar. According to my friend, classical works for some people, but who knows about flamenco... I'll have to find someone who's tried it.

Apologies to my readers.

2010-08-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I posted a blog entry about a conversation I had with Ad. Since then, I have been scolded, criticized, and repeatedly vilified for using his words as my personal online muse. While companies add confidentiality statements to the end of work emails, social emails to me now finish with notes like "if I find any of the above information on your blog, I'll have your ass."

Yesterday:

Me: Remember how I wrote that blog entry about you?
Ad: Oh yeah, the blog... I forgot to look!
Me: People habitually tell me I'm a terrible person now.
Ad: Oh really? Sucks to be you, your friends like me better! HAHAHAHHHHAAAHAHA

I promise not to do it again.

The Wedgie Method

2010-08-05T14:54:00.001-07:00

Everyone has a different strategy for the problem of laundry. My brother for example (with the OCD) does laundry every 2nd Thursday at 8p. I only do laundry if I'm out of underwear (thus the giant drawer of underwear.)

The wedgie comes in when I've been bad about laundry. This is when the uncomfortable, last-resort undies come out of the back of the drawer.

I get about 26 days between loads before I am forced to wear the perpetually-riding-up-the-butt panties -- the ones that punish me for laundry-slacking with an all day reminder that there is not much time left before I am out of clean clothes. There are two versions of the wedgie panties, the Day 2 Version being even more indius than Day 1. Once Day 2 has arrived, I never forget wash my clothes, and pay off my lazy laundry sins.

I'm in trouble.

2010-07-31T15:06:00.000-07:00

I told some friends that I'd never said a cheesy pick-up line to a stranger, and that I thought it would be really funny. And now, on top of getting a lot of dares, I've received a lot of cheesy pick-up line suggestions. (If I manage to actually go through with these, there will definitely be another blog entry.)

Me: My magic watch tells me you're not wearing any underwear.
Dude: I am
Me: Oh, my watch is a few hours fast.

Me: Stand still so I can pick you up!

Me: Something tells me you're sweet. Can I have a sample?

Me: Hey! You dropped something.
Dude: What?
Me: You dropped our conversation. Wanna pick it up?

Riiiigght.

2010-07-20T18:53:00.000-07:00

People who date have lots of secrets to keep and lots of image to show off. This results in interesting conversations with people that are hitting on you but don't want you to know they've been on a date/hookup recently.

My question:
"So what have you been doing this weekend?"

Guy's see-through strategy #1: Leave out information
"Yesterday John and I went surfing at Stinson Beach. And last night ... I went uhh... ... out." Reflecting on the experience, he adds "Gawd am I tired today."

Guy's see-through strategy #2: Gender neutral pronouns
"I hung out with a... friend. My friend is a really fun person! They wanted to go for a picnic, and then they wanted some drinks at the wine bar."

A nice feature

2010-07-13T18:24:00.000-07:00

When you're single, you spend a lot of time with other single people, who talk about their dating escapades. Ad had gotten a number from a girl at a party, and was sending her a text message.

Ad: I know three things about her... she likes to dance, she says she breakdances, and she has nice boobs.
Me: Huh. Can you think of a girl you know that does NOT have nice boobs?
Ad: [thinks] Good point.

Wow, this works the other way around too! Men have nice wallets.

Hungry or stupid?

2010-07-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

I spent my 4th of July weekend with a group of chain-smoking southerners with names like BobbyJoe, who say 'yall' on a regular basis. I joked that we should celebrate America's birthday by buying some slaves... these people might still have some.

The great thing about this group was a collectively offensive sense of humor. One of my favorite conversations began like this

BobbyJoe: Yall women are so complicated. We men have two simple emotions -- horny, and hungry.
Ali: Hah! You mean horny and stupid.

I sided with Ali in the debate that followed (arguing for horny and stupid of course), adding that men are good multi-taskers --most express both emotions simultaneously.

Oh I get it

2010-06-25T10:24:00.000-07:00

Some of you may remember a guy we called "Ethical Slut" back in the day, because of a book he read and because of the story-worthy lifestyle he led. Amongst other things, he wore only a towel the first time I met him, and afterward wrote me an email with the opening line "You are a sexy vixen and that's all there is to it. I'm praying that the lord all mighty will deliver me into your hands."

Since that time, he moved into a sex school, quit his job, and became a life coach for sexually frustrated Silicon Valley CEOs. They pay him large sums of money for lessons on how to pick up women. Despite a number of clients, we can't understand how he comes across all the cash he seems to have on hand, as he only works a few hours a week. He did have a sugar mama for a while... maybe she is still around?

Anyway, the guy's life always seemed totally unreal to me, as I'm sure you can imagine. Finally yesterday, I learned of a little fact that made it all make sense, which obviously needs to be posted on the web: Ethical Slut has only one testicle.

Seriously?

2010-06-16T00:21:00.001-07:00

Most people I've seen in the week since my break up have asked me how I'm doing, and offered their help in my transition period. My mom on the other hand...

I didn't tell my parents directly about my becoming single, but guess someone did, because within five minutes of arriving at my parents' house:

Mom: LAURA! You're home!
Me: [waits] What.
Mom: Well, it turns out my friend Ester has a son!
Me: Impressive!
Mom: He's 35, a programmer, and he's very wealthy! He owns his own place in San Francisco, and... you like San Francisco!
Me: [looks are her incredulously, as she clearly does not understand what is happening in my life right now]
Mom: What?
Me: [silence]
Mom: He's wealthy and successful. And very attractive and athletic.
Me: Have you actually met this person?
Mom: Oh, no. But his mother says that he is very attractive.

I'll bet she does!

Dirt Biking!?

2010-05-25T12:17:00.001-07:00

Ad said we could ride his old dirt bike while we were at his Dad's farm in Vermont. I was secretly looking forward this -- hopping on, wearing the helmet, going in a couple circles, and then saying 'I went dirt biking in Vermont.'

Unfortunately, that dirt bike was nowhere to be found. Ad insisted that we could go dirt biking in California, and I agreed before realizing what this meant. (Example question: "Hey Ad, does 'dirt biking' mean that I'm going to get... dirty?")

CA dirt biking does not consist of hopping on and driving in a circle: We woke up at 7am, borrowed bikes/gear in San Jose, loaded up a trailer, and drove 1.5 hours to Hollister where we entered a giant dirt biking park full of testosterone.

My first observation, after finally agreeing to get on the bike, was that dirt biking is hard. I was too wussy to actually go fast enough, and would habitually fall over, making 1mph slow-motion descents to the ground, due to lack of speed required to keep the two wheeler upright. On the trails, little kids (and I mean LITTLE ) on tiny motorcycles zoomed by as I clutched my handlebars so tight my arms got sore. After each fall, hlepful testosterone-filled bikers stopped to pick my bike up for me, so I would continue on my merry 1mph way.

"You know," Ad said proudly at the end of the day, "I think you got up to about 8 mile an hour." He wasn't kidding. But whatever... despite all the drama, 8mph dirt biking was fun!

They really are the worst

2010-05-11T22:58:00.000-07:00

Ryan's most recent blog entry is titled "The Worst Graphs in the World." I liked them so much, I have to reproduce them. They are a comparison of Intuit's Quicken software, and a pencil.

Caption by Ryan: This week, in our Lab to Market intro course, we were reading about creating new market space (as contrasted with capturing a share of an existing market). Buried in one of our articles was a sidebar about Quicken software. The sidebar contained what I immediately identified as the worst graphs in the entire world, reproduced above for your enjoyment. When I showed them to my roommate “Michael,” a Ph.D. candidate in the math department here, he just gripped his head and protested, “Why are they linear?” Michael was not the only one to find fault with the graphs. In class, “Erin” raised her hand and observed that for some x-axis attributes, “high” is good, and for others, “low” is preferable. She went on to point out, “If you have a bunch of data points that are best described through words, you don’t need to put them in a graph. That’s what tables are for.”

Moving Up

2010-04-13T07:58:00.000-07:00

"Can you talk to Liz for me?" Sandra wanted me to meet her friend Liz, who was very stressed from a recent job loss. "Maybe you can help her relax."

I've grown a reputation as a model funemployee -- nonchalant, sleeping plenty, taking extended travel vacations from my day-to-day vacation, etc. I have already spoken with a friend of Ryan's, who needed help being funemployed, and I must say, I am quite a good teacher.

Despite this, I have started to take job hunting seriously. I know this because yesterday, after returning from NYC, I found a crumpled up shirt in the back of a drawer at my parent's house. After pulling it out and discovering that it had a collar, I put the crumply shirt on over my tanktop and wore it to a job fair.

"You look like one of those well-dressed homeless people," Sean said. (Whatever that means.)

Either way,the collared shirt at the job fair turned out to be a big success -- I got three pieces of candy, two pens, and a new keychain.

Oh alright

2010-04-07T11:03:00.000-07:00

I've been in Vermont for several days now. So far, I have voluntarily participated in
- making maple syrup
- eating maple syrup

The problem is that Ad and Eerik, who both have a different set of hormones than me, wanted to
- drive 4-wheelers
- shoot guns
- chop down trees
- play with chainsaws

At first, I adamantly refused to participate in any of these activities, preferring to quiz them about their personal/romantic lives while gorging on Easter maple candies. But eventually, I realized what would be needed to make the activities fun: redneck clothes.

Ad found me a red plaid wool jacket, and even a red plaid hat with earflaps to go with it. I made us sing the Lumberjack song while we felled the 40-yr old birch tree to make a cord of wood.

I have a hoody

2010-03-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I am leaving for a trip to New England. Specifically, I will be making maple syrup at Ad's maple farm in Vermont. He sent me an email to prep me, and it says that the weather report calls for cold and rain. Not California rain, but (as non-Californians like to say) Real Rain.

[phone call to Ad]
Me: Hey Ad, I don't really have rain gear.
Ad: Oh my. Like you don't have any rubber boots at all?
Me: Rubber boots? I have a hoody.
Ad: Yeah, rubber boots.
Me: Wait! I did buy a cute little umbrella when I was in Japan. It has a frog on it!
Ad: Laura, you can't chop wood while holding an umbrella.

Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into...

Yes.

2010-03-24T21:35:00.001-07:00

"Are you going to do all my chores?"
"Do you want to give me a foot rub?"

I just started my new improv class. For our first lesson, we learned the improv mantra: "Yes, and..." where you always say yes to whatever your improv buddies throw at you, and do your best to build on their ideas. For example, my improv-mate said we were in Alaska, and I pretended to catch a salmon. My homework this week is to practice the mantra by saying "Yes, and..." to as many things as possible.

And I made the mistake of telling this to Sean.

"Do you smell like poopy?"
"Am I just outrageously brilliant?"

Yes, and you're about the be whacked upside the head.

Oh the holidays

2010-01-06T18:33:00.000-08:00

PART I
When I tell people that my family exchanges Christmas presents, they imagine a fresh crisp tree brimming with bright lights, ornaments, and candles, and a warm welcoming home for the holiday gift exchange, where big boxes in red wrapping wait for the special morning.

In reality, this is the photo I took on xmas eve 2003, when I got home for the holidays. The box in this photo (blue, in the center) was given by a coworker of my father's -- he put it under the houseplant in the back corner of the living room, for lack of anywhere else to put it.

Since then, the presents at my house have always been stored, exchanged, and opened under the potted schefflera plant. This year though, I'm not sure where the houseplant went (died? moved?) but the plant wasn't there for it's gift storing duties. This holiday, in respect for tradition, we stored and exchanged our Christmas presents on the floor in the back corner of the living room, because it's where we've become comfortable celebrating the holiday... because it's where the schefflera used to be.

PART II
After the holidays, my friends often ask me what I received for xmas. This isn't out of politeness -- I have a reputation for receiving bad presents, and they are hoping I got something terrible so they can have a good laugh.

For years now, I have been trying to solve the problem by sending my family xmas lists. After receiving a porcelain cow in 2005, I tried sending a list in 2006 with only one item on it, and a very specific item at that: Cranium the board game. (They got me Cranium in Spanish.)

Last year, I tried a new tactic, where I sent an email with specific links to specific items on amazon.com. This sorta worked, but not quite.

So this year, I tried the opposite strategy: I told them what I DIDN'T want. The email read something like this:

For Christmas, please do not purchase me any things, as my apartment is microscopic and cannot hold more objects. My list:
- An oil change
- A haircut
- Vehicle registration
- Donations for my IRA

Apparently, this xmas list makes me sound poor, but I didn't realize it at the time. In the end, I got four things (two are objects): a sweater, a jigsaw puzzle, a gift certificate for a restaurant, and money. Well it's not what I asked for but hey -- cash in a red envelope, the Asian family classic.

Crash Landing

2009-12-27T14:00:00.000-08:00

Questions you would have asked if you'd seen me yesterday:
(1) "Why is your arm in a sling?"
(2) "Why is your sling so ghetto?"

The answers to these questions begin with understanding Sean, and his enjoyment of motorized vehicles. Or more specifically, his tendecy to pretend to be a motorized vehicle.

Vehicle 1: Tank
I first noticed this tendency about a year ago, when Sean was in the presence of some small children. It began with him putting a kid on his shoulders, making his hands into fists, and holding those fists up near his temples. The kid would be instructed to hold onto these fists, which would make Sean's forearms similar to joysticks, much like the levers that control the two treads of a tank.

Then, "BRRRRRRRRRRR. Kachunk kaching rrrrrr wiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee! BRRRRRRR..."

Sean would let the kid pull/push his forearm levers, and he would move around accordingly, the way he'd imagine a tank would move if the levers were put into those positions. I assumed he did it for the kid, since they usually enjoyed the tank game. Recently of course, I learned otherwise.

Vehicle 2: Airplane
This tendency evolved recently into a new form. Unlike the tank model, Sean realized that he could give airplanes to people that were bigger than small children, so long as they were significantly smaller than he. This is convenient for him, of course, because a significantly smaller person is regularly at hand for him to give airplanes to. (By 'airplane' I mean that thing where you balance someone on your feet, as if making them fly.)

Sean: Hey Laura, want another airplane?
Me: No.
Sean: Please?
Me: [sighs] I'm eating lunch.
Sean: [pouts]
Me: Ok fine. I'm going to finish my bagel, and then you can give me an airplane as soon as you've cleaned those dishes.

Sean always has a new idea for his airplane ride, that is always a surprise for his airplane passenger. The first flight, it was radio communication with the tower for take-off and landing. ("This is Tower to LC678X, repeat Tower to LC678X. You are clear for take-off.") Other scenarios included lightning, troubled radio communication, bad weather, and general turbulence. So far, all flights were successful, until the most recent idea he had, which was Crash Landing.

This wasn't a very long flight, as you can imagine. We had some troubled radio communication with the tower ("LC678X to Tower, we are having an engine problem") and ended with me unexpectedly free falling and flailing and "OWWWWW!!!"

I made him make me a sling for my right arm (without which I am completely useless) , which was all bruised up and sore when I moved it. He agreed, using a grey t-shirt tied together with some rope and a few knots, which I swear was designed to make me look like a war victim in a 3rd world country.

Anyway, my arm is better enough to type things now, which is good because it took me like 5minutes to brush my teeth with my left hand, and jars just couldn't be opened at all.

Next time I'm coaxed into being a motorized vehicle, it's going to be with Sully Sullenberger, or no ride at all.

Holidays

2009-12-24T22:55:00.000-08:00

Ghetto -- aka virtual homemade holiday card drawn in microsoft paint. Ah, only the best for my friends!

Not that my holidays are un-ghetto or something. The "Christmas tree" at my apt is a chair w/ a green-ish blanket hanging over it. We added some LED's, strips of red Saran wrap, and earrings on it to make it look more authentic. Classiest of the classy.

Happy holidays :)

Or do you only date White People?

2009-11-22T16:32:00.001-08:00

A family reunion on my mom's side of the family just passed last week, when some of my relatives were passing through town. I had a meeting which prevented me from attending the beginning of the event, so I arrive to find a giant circle of Chinese people sitting tightly around a humongous table, except for a single chair which awaits a last person to arrive.

"Laura is here!" chants a chorus of voices as I approach the table, the anticipated last guest. I move to sit down and eat, but am interrupted while still standing.

"My husband wants to set you up on a date with his coworker." I look to my right, where my 40yr old cousin is sitting with her husband and three kids, all looking up at me excitedly. "Want to go on a blind date?"

Dozens more eyes fall on me -- the chorus of Chinese immigrants, children, relatives, and strangers eagerly await a reply. The room is completely silent. "Uhh..." I stand paralyzed, knowing that I have been keeping my dating life private from my family for years, so as not to be interrogated about my relationships. Clearly, this is backfiring.

"Actually," my cousin continues, noticing my paralysis and second guessing herself. "Do you date Chinese guys? Or do you only date White People?"

This does not decrease the level of interest expressed by the Chinese chorus. I stand there stunned with a thousand eyes judging my character based on the premise of this question, and my lack of audible words. The moment lasts only a few seconds I'm sure, but trust me, it feels like an eternity.

Torture

2009-11-20T12:10:00.000-08:00

It's been consuming me.

"It" is of course, a book about how to write catchy leads for magazine articles. The book is filled with the best of the best -- leads that grab you, pull you in, have you dying to find out why the guy kills himself, how the treasure chest is found, or where the bad guys will dump the body.

Then, it goes on to analyze what is so wonderful about the lead instead of telling you how the murder is solved. Torture! I fully expect this author to produce a DVD titled "The Best First Halves of Movies."

Inhibit Your Ability To Ride Simulators

2009-11-17T11:36:00.000-08:00

Someone I know (whose identity I will protect considering the extreme embarrassment of this blog entry) sent me an invitation to an official Star Trek event. Some excerpts:

STAR TREK: THE EXHIBITION
Transport into parallel universes of the past and future!
* The actual shooting model for the Borg Cube, as seen on Star Trek
* A chance to ride through a Star Trek adventure in a full-motion flight simulator (extra fee)
* And lots, lots more!

My favorite part:

We encourage costumes but for the safety of you and our other guests and employees please abide by the following guidelines:
1. No masks.
2. Elaborate costuming may inhibit your ability to ride simulators.
3. No weapons. Phasers, shields or any other accessory that may be perceived as a safety concern in any galaxy by any species is prohibited and must be left in your space shuttles.

Maybe with some friends and a six pack, I'll just go sit in front of the place, to get a glimpse of the attendees.

A New Project

2009-10-24T22:39:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I slacked off on the blogging when I got back from Alaska. But there's a good reason for that: I have decided on a new career path.

As fun as it was sitting alone in a windowless cubicle all day, I am now attempting a transition from Science Researcher to Science Reporter. Ok, so it's a little unrealistic, but whatever -- quizzing people about their work is WAY easier than doing work -- clearly the right job for me.

To kick off my new career, I convinced KZSU Stanford radio that if I made some crazy science shows, they should air them as part of their news program. I explained that I needed some audio equipment, and four weeks later... lo and behold, I actually made a show!

This show aired this Tuesday at KZSU 90.1fm in the Stanford area. It's about the SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory: how particle accelerators work, what physicists study there, and how SLAC has transformed itself into a giant x-ray laser. Have a listen! It's 14 minutes long, and you're not a true nerd if the words "giant x-ray laser" don't have you dying to hit the play button.

Honest feedback is more than welcome -- it keeps me encouraged, learning, and sets me up to make better shows in the future. Any comments/suggestions are super appreciated. :)

Bigger is Better!--

2009-09-06T00:38:00.000-07:00

I had read about Alaska's giant vegetable contest, and I was really excited to finally see the giants in person. These particular ones are a pumpkin (400lbs) and a cabbage (100lbs). We also saw a 13lb mushroom, 110lb watermelon, and 22lb zucchini. Alaska has 24-hour sun in the summer, so their vegetables get HUGE!

---

We're now in Sitka, a little island town on the Alaska panhandle. The only way to get here is by plane or boat, so we took the ferry into town -- fun!

Wasilla

2009-09-04T00:09:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking. The same thing everyone and their mother thinks when they see the word 'Wasilla': Sarah Palin.

That's just what we thought too, when we saw Wasilla on the map and realized that it was right outside of Anchorage. Of course, we immediately went snooping around the for Sarah Palin's home address, and unfortunately for her (but fortunately for us) it's all over the web.

When we first arrived, we were the only people taking photos of ourselves in front of her house, which disappointed me -- I had looked forward to the crowds of shameless peepers. Fortunately, other tourists showed up briefly, and we all had a grand old time gossiping about Sarah, her personal life, and how we each came to be at the specific location of Sarah's house. It was a wonderful bonding experience, and the views of Russia were fantastic.

Yikes

2009-08-30T18:28:00.000-07:00

After Fairbanks, we headed south to Denali National Park. We spent our first day just hanging out and cooking dinner, but on the second day, we took a bus into the heart of the park and bush-whacked our way through the tundra to get a glimpse of some mountains. On our way back to the road, we spotted a busload of tourists watching some grizzly bears through our binoculars, and we swung our path to the right to keep a safe distance from the bears. Thirty minutes later, however, as we were nearing the road, we found the three grizzlies standing between us and our destination. Up to this point, only one of our bear sightings was a grizzly, and all of the sightings were from a safe distance inside a car or a viewing platform. Finding ourselves trespassing through a bear's territory on foot was not a comforting discovery -- we were in the middle of nowhere, 50 miles from camp, and the weather was beginning to change from rain to snow.

The last shuttle back to camp would be going down this road in about ten minutes, and we didn't have time to wait for the bears to pass. Sprinting to the right we moved towards safety, but in a few minutes we found our path blocked by a large herd of caribou. Out of options, we turned to the side again and dashed up a path between the two groups of wild animals. This put the bears, who move much faster than human beings, on a comfortable downhill slope, while we, with our backpacks and hiking gear, fought our way up a really steep, slippery, brush-covered hill.

Obviously, we escaped the bear encounter without being eaten, but we were pretty freaked out.It was a relief to get to the road and catch that last shuttle bus, and to put our soaking-wet socks and shoes by the heater.

I Heart Couch Surfing

2009-08-27T18:41:00.000-07:00

Couch surfing is the best website ever. Elise and Luke, both Alaska born and raised, agreed to house us for a couple nights in Fairbanks, where they had a bear skin rug on the living room floor, fed us moose meatloaf for dinner, took us to quirky drinking establishments, and best of all, took us for a flight in their new bush plane. We also had dinner at the little airport with a guy named Woody who is a native Alaskan, or Athabaskan. Despite being somewhat awkward and a bit shy, Woody is apparently the Fairbanks representative in Alaska's state government. His first question upon meeting me was "Are you Mexican?"

Homeless Life

2009-08-23T18:25:00.000-07:00

I have four bug bites on my face right now, and that's not counting the ones on my ears or my scalp. As a general statement, I would call it a thin coating of bug bites spread over most of my body, making me basically a giant bug bite with black wavy hair.

Overall, driving all day and sleeping in the trunk at night has been our chosen mode of transportation, and we've begun to eye RVers with a touch of envy. "Our entire car would fit into that luggage compartment," we'd say. Or "that one is bigger than our apartment!"

When we want sleep at night, we begin by shifting all the contents of our trip into the front of the car, squeezing them one by one either onto the dash or below the glove compartment. There isn't space on the front seats since we have to lean seats all the way forward to make room to sleep in the back, which somewhat explains the lack space for matches. Then, since we both need to breathe, we crack each of the windows slightly, and painstakingly rub drops deet across each window seam with a moistened Q-tip in an attempt to prevent bugs from flying in to eat us. This bug repellent, of course, washes off immediately after it is applied since it is pouring rain outside, but it does make the puddle of rainwater that gets into the bed overnight smell nice and chemically. At last, I crawl into bed -- and I say 'crawl' because there isn't room to sit up -- and sleep until a few hours later when I wake up with more bug bites on my face.

Despite some difficulties, I've started affectionately referring to the Subaru as our own recreational vehicle -- at one point, I even accidentally called it 'home.' Now in the Alaska, Home is much easier to drive because the Alaska Highway is traveled often enough to merit painting lines on the road, such as a central divider. On the other hand, Alaska is not a particularly balmy vacation spot --I am wearing all the California winter clothes I own right now, and it's the height of summer. According to our guide book, the first frost in this area occurs on or around August 19... it was right on schedule.

Lost in Time

2009-08-18T10:54:00.000-07:00

"What's the date today?" I'll ask, trying to fill out some form or sign some guestbook.

"I don't know," Sean will reply.

"Well, what day is it?"

We'll spend a ridiculous amount of time figuring out that three days ago -- or the last time we went through this silly exercise -- we concluded it was Thurs, but weren't 100% sure. "If that's the case," I'll say, counting days on my fingers, "Thurs, Friday, Saturday, SUNDAY! It's likely Sunday."

When we go through this exercise in a campground, we often try to shortcut the process by asking others.

"Excuse me ma'am, do you know what day it is today?"

"Ooh, I can't remember," she'll reply after some serious concentration. The she'll look over her shoulder, and in the direction of their RV she'll shout "HEY LOU, WHAT DAY IS IT TODAY?"

Apparently keeping track of time on the road is hard for everyone.

Memory Lane

2009-08-13T22:35:00.000-07:00

Since Sean is both the primary driver and photographer on this trip, my memories of this adventure have been primarily documented as shown.

This particular photo is a special one, however, since it documents our visit to the largest fly fishing pole in the world. (My choice of activity!) Sean's choice of activity for the day was to see some totem poles, which were not the most spectacular in the world or even the mediocre-est, but in the words of our guide book "one of the highest concentrations of standing totem poles in northern British Columbia." I wondered where in northern BC they displayed a vast collection of non-standing totem poles, or perhaps standing poles spread out in low concentration, but preferred not to locate any for fear that Sean would drive me out there to collect photos of poles behind blurry reflections of dashboard trash.

That said, we have taken our sweet time driving through BC after spending so much effort to get in. The other day, we watched a grizzly bear catch and eat two salmon out of a river -- an amazing feat that brought pangs of guilt, after spending most of the afternoon watching the salmon themselves fight their way upstream, determined to make it to the breeding ground before dying from the impossible journey. The best part was a crowd of perseverant fish trying and trying again to jump up a thick and very fast-flowing waterfall of about ten feet. Ten feet! (Apparently the pangs of guilt have subsided, however, considering the delicious salmon I ate for dinner today.)

Since the grizzly, we have had to stop for three more bears who were hanging out on the middle-of-nowhere freeways we've been driving down. Sean uses these sightings to justify his carrying the can of bear spray to virtually every place we have stopped along the way, including many restaurants and grocery stores. At these moments, I feel thankful to border patrol for second guessing our purpose for carrying bear spray around, since most of these locations don't have a lot of bears, but do have a relatively high concentrations of standing human beings.

On the road again

2009-08-09T16:23:00.000-07:00

After staying in a motel on the US side of the border, we spent the morning gathering documents to show border patrol that we were not a couple of homeless hooligans, but in fact, laid-off engineers who happened to like thrift store clothes, road trips, and sleeping in the trunks of a small vehicles.

My favorite conversation clip during Crossing Into Canada Part II was

BP: Do you have any guns, knives, or other weapons?

Me: No

BP: Do you have any mace or other spray weapons?

Me: I have bear spray.

BP: You can't bring that in.

Me: (Having read that this is not true) Wait, really?

BP: Well... [hesitates, then sighs] What are you planning to use it on?

Me: Bears.

BP: Bears?

Me: Yes. Bears.

BP: Oh, then it's ok.

**For those of you who don't know, mace is not legal in Canada, so if you have any, you have to give it up at the border. Bear spray on the other hand, which is exactly the same as mace except that it is says "bear spray" and is ENORMOUS (like a small fire extinguisher in shape, size, and level of emergency), is allowed.

----

We are now in Prince George, a city that calls itself the "northern capital" of BC despite its population being barely larger than Palo Alto's. The town isn't all that exciting, but the Canadian accents here are delightful. I'm working on one myself. :)

Illegal Immigration

2009-08-05T23:24:00.000-07:00

I sent out text messages that said "Goodbye USA, hello beavers and hockey fans" to friends, as Sean and I approached the Canadian border.

Instead of crossing into Canada, however, I found myself answering an absurdly long string of random questions for the border patrol.

BP: Is that your car?

Me: Yes.

BP: Do you rent or own your place in the USA?

Me: I rent.

BP: How much money do you have with you?

Me: I dunno, $150 maybe.

BP: Do you, or have you ever used narcotics?

Me: Uhh, Tylenol-3 is a narcotic.

I couldn't help but laugh, and moments later, I was being searched by two guards standing on either side of me, who confiscated my cell phone, passport and ID. I was put in a waiting room while they searched the vehicle. Over the next hour and a half, I imagined them and their drug-sniffing dogs (they really had drug sniffing dogs) going through every little nook and cranny, wondering who the hell packed all this stuff. Finally, the guy came back. "How much money to do you have access to in the states?"

I was about to speak, but Sean quickly responded with a much larger number that I expected. I looked at him incredulously -- I really had no idea he had all this cash -- and no doubt confirmed the guy's suspicions that we were completely making up everything we said.

Border Patrol left again and returned with forms titled "Allowed To Leave Canada," which we had to sign "voluntarily" or be detained. Apparently the immigrations officer did not trust that we would leave Canada after entering, citing the his reason for suspicion as the bed in the back of the Subaru.

An attempt from Sean to explain the irrational dangers of sleeping outside only resulted in more incredulity from the officers, followed by threats to put us in jail. Fair enough, I figured... how many people with enough money to stay in actual hotels sleep in the trunk of their car to evade a fear of outdoor sleeping?

In the end we were denied entrance to Canada, and we re-entered the US with frustration and disgust. Seriously, to accuse us -- people from beautiful warm desirable California -- of wanting to sneak into freezing cold wanna-be America? And then insinuating that this would be crime, and not a compliment? Talk about insulting.

Powerless

2009-08-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

I told Sean that I wrote a blog entry about him vetoing my matches. I expected him to laugh, but instead, he looked at me with with wide-eyed confusion and took a deep breath. Finally he explained in a very serious tone, "you weren't there for the other things I vetoed."

I didn't know what 'other things' meant (clothes? the spare tire? our wallets?) until this afternoon, when my cell phone ran out of batteries. Apparently my cell phone charger did not make the cut.

-----

That said, our first stop was in Portland, where we visited Sean's friend Jason. Jason has two kids which is great because (1) little kids are easy to steal ice cream from and (2) the little ones agreed to watch Sesame Street on DVD with me. Yay Snufflelufugus!

Bon Voyage

2009-08-03T21:31:00.000-07:00

"This is a relatively big box of matches," Sean said, pointing at a box the size of a deck of cards.

I had made a little pile of things we would need for our camping/road trip to Alaska. The pile only included items we really needed, since I knew there would be very little space in the car, after Sean sheepishly admitted to being 'afraid of sleeping outside' last week -- an interesting confession for a guy who has been dead-set on a 5-week camping stint in the arctic for months. To cater to this paranoia, Sean insisted that we spend the 8000mile road trip sleeping in the car instead of in a tent, since Sean feels cars are less 'outside,' and he proceeded to fill 95% of our luggage space with a twin mattress, two sets of blankets, a sleeping bag, and pillows. As you may suspect, packing around these large objects has proven quite a challenge.

"We have this other, smaller box," he added, "which still holds a fair number of matches."

As you can see, I am feeling very optimistic about this trip...

Japan

2009-07-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

As many of you have heard, Sean and I are leaving for a road trip to Alaska this Sunday. I didn't know when I agreed to this that Anchorage is further from San Francisco than NYC, or that British Columbia could possibly contain so much Nothing. Not to mention that Alaska is filled with the world's largest bears and mosquitos, or that Sean's is deathly afraid of sleeping in tents, thus the mattress in the trunk of his very small hatchback.

For now, I finally have some Japan photos to share... we went to 7 cities in 20 days, so I spent most of the vacation sleeping on various forms of public transit, but I'll include pics of other activities since those are more interesting...

Drinking holy water	Sleeping on the bullet train
A Kyoto temple garden	A capsule hotel
Playing doctor w/ preschoolers	Hot springs are STINKY
Row boat --GRR!	Authentic karaoke... and Joe :)
The neon that is Tokyo	Pose like you're Japanese!

Sigh

2009-07-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

A two week break from the boyfriend is a wonderful thing. There are no dorito chip crumbs on the floor, no conversations about cars/robots/who should be cleaning the bathroom, and I haven't had to watch an action/sci-fi movie in over a week.

Sean is visiting his parents in South Carolina -- a state that teaches its children to shoot guns in middle school, Sean included. In Palo Alto, where I am from, dodgeball was banned in public schools because it was too violent. Clearly, we see eye-to-eye on many issues. Also, Sean proudly sent this photo from a SC grocery store, which I find at least as tasteless as pre-pubescent kids with rifles.

Anyway, on top of being seriously southern, Sean's parents are Catholic, which means that they are kept completely in the dark about Sean's dating life. Each night, he calls me from inside a closet three rooms over from his parents, plays a movie as cover and speaks at a level that would be completely imperceptible if I were an ant standing directly on one of his vocal chords. (If he gets caught, maybe he can pretend he's playing hide and seek with his stuffed animals.) I'm not surprised though: when he calls his parents from here, I'm not allowed to make noises in the background, because it would interrupt the made-up story he's telling about a non-existant roommate, whose name seems to change every time I hear him being talked about.

Star Power

2009-07-06T02:16:00.000-07:00

Before leaving for Japan, I made a trip to Lawrence Livermore Laboratories, to attend "friends and family day" with my old coworker Martin. The new fusion machine, NIF, had just opened the day before, and people gathered there to see it amongst other attractions, including nuclear bomb shells and a couple supercomputers.

I learned about NIF in my college fusion class, so I was excited to see it in person -- the 500TW laser beam used to create fusion consumes 100 times more energy than the rest of the world combined during the nanosecond that it runs. The 192 individual beams focus on a 1mm ball of solid hydrogen, taking the fusion material from near-absolute zero to 100million degrees Celsius in a few nanoseconds.

Also, Martin's mom was a blast. My favorite conversation clip:

Sean: If I were Buddhist, I would be bad so I could get reincarnated as a bird.
Me: Why?
Sean: I want to know how if feels to fly.
Martin's Mom: [looks at Sean, puzzled.] Take some acid.

konichiwa

2009-06-22T07:17:00.001-07:00

the keyboards in japan are really hard to type on. so far, i have noticed that everything in japan is cute and efficient (which i love) but that the girls here all wear high heels... even when they are site seeing... in the RAIN (which i do not like). fortunately, the food is delicious, the subways are impressively clean, and overall, japan has been pretty great so far. also, the trains go 180 miles per hour. omg, why don't they have that in california?

today, a four year old girl japanese girl who speaks perfect english taught me to count to ten in japanese. it was exciting to learn some words, especially since people keep trying to talk to my asian self in japanese before they realize i'm a dumb tourist and start the how-do-i-get-to-the-train charades, but it was also a low point to learn numbers from a bilingual four year old who can read (read!) in multiple languages. I like to think she'll suffer from some psychological malady for being overly cute and efficient, and that being a dumb mono-lingual american has some unknown benefit. (a big ego?)

The planet is thanking me

2009-05-20T14:41:00.000-07:00

It is Nothing Week. My recognition of this important (albeit self-invented) seven-day-long holiday includes:

Not leaving the apartment
Lots of pajama wearing
(or at least, no bras)
Discount pizza coupons
Swishing teabags violently around tea mugs, to mix in the honey w/o requiring a spoon

Before you call me a slob, think of how many glaciers are murdered each day by teaspoons, and all the precious oxygen that gets used up by exercise. That's right. While you're out there selfishly fending off cancer/heart disease and generally contributing to society -- I'm being lazy, not for my benefit, but for the benefit of the polar bears. You (and those thankless polar bears) should be more grateful.

Losing my race

2009-05-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I hang out with Shannon, she'll ask me if I'm familiar with some Chinese phrase. It's not because she's testing me -- some phrases are hard to translate from one language to another, so in retelling conversations she's had in Chinese, she'll ask if I know a phrase to save her the trouble of translating it.

What Shannon hasn't realized after several years of knowing me, is that I have never passed the Chinese phrase quiz.

Shannon: Do you know shou-ling hua?
Me: No
Shannon: Oh, it's like a type of disapproval...
(repeat conversation like, 40 times over several years.)

Recently, however, I've been getting in touch with my asian side. Not because I'm suddenly yearning for my own culture, but because Sean is such a white boy and I'm too stubborn to accommodate him. Asian-ness isa good excuse for stuff, like a mean sense of humor, stinginess, inability to see through the little slits in my face, unwillingness to eat tuna casserole/meatloaf, etc.

So last week when Shannon busted out a Chinese phrase quiz in the car with Sean present, I desperately wanted to understand the phrase and legitimize my excuses.

Shannon: Do you know liu chien-wu?
Me: Uhh... what was it?
Shannon: Liu chien-wu.
Me: Oh... of course I do!
Shannon: (waits)
Me: Uhh... He was that guy. In the martial arts movie.
Shannon: It's a special kind of respect for ancestors.

Dammit.
Any day now, there's going to be a casserole for dinner, and I'm going to have to participate.

Bear ate my lunch.

2009-04-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

No really, it ate my dinner too.

According to the Yosemite park ranger, bears in April have just come out of hibernation but their food isn't in season for a few weeks. This means a lot of bears are roaming the campsites for food, and if your locker isn't properly latched, you might wake up at 4am to the sound of a hungry bear scarfing your dinner down about 2ft from you head. With only a piece of flimsy nylon tent to protect you from becoming dessert, you wonder if the seemingly innocuous pineapple-scented sunblock you used would ultimately bring your demise.

Food eaten by bear:
- Loaf of sourdough bread
- 1lb salame
- 1lb cheese
- 8 Cliff bars
- 2lbs trail mix
- Full box of oatmeal
- 2lbs chocolate
- 2 packages dried mangoes, 1 pack cherries, 1 cranberries
- Beef jerky
- 16oz tub hummus
(It left 1 piece of chocolate and some cherry tomatoes. I guess it got full -- it had broken into our neighbor's bear box too.)

Sean and I went out to view the remains once the bear was finished. We put the the saliva-covered plastic wrappers and ripped-open coolers back into the bear box, and went off to the bathroom to pee our fears out. We didn't sleep very well after that.

On the other hand, Shannon (who slept with earplugs) awoke bright and early to discover a properly-sealed bear box with shredded food containers inside. Confused, she approached a park ranger who said that a squirrel might have gotten locked inside the box overnight and consumed the food. Back at the campsite, she tried to scare the squirrel out of the box, but after some thought she started to wonder how many squirrels it would take to consume 20 lbs of food, and if we could possibly have locked an entire army of rodents into our storage box. Amusing.

In the end, Shannon woke us up, and we all had a nice conversation with the park ranger, who said bear boxes get broken into pretty often. Before leaving, he advised us not to eat any leftover food, since bears carry the bubonic plague. Right. Not only was I hungry and had no food, but the expert thought I was going to get Black Death.

(1) Hetch Hetchy (2) Campsite.

So what if it's broken

2009-04-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

My computer, that is. It died about a month ago -- just in time to completely forget about Pi Day (no electronic calendar) and miss my chance to make an April Fool's day post. Altogether a major bummer.

With no job and no intention of finding one (current fear: being offered a job that's hard to turn down) I am having a hard time getting back online. Given, Obama did hand us laid-off folks a raise and add medical benefits to our 12pm wake up times, but scrounging up hundreds of laptop dollars is hard after the money has been earmarked Hawaii, Japan, and New York City.

This has resulted in a number of get-rich-quick day dreams (which also occupy time now that I can't surf CL):

- A website that sells ads. The first ad is $1, the second $2, the third $4, then $8, $16, and so on until the numbers get big. Mmmm, $BIG.

- Why aren't there any beer delivery services?!

- I'm jealous of the guy who came up with selling stars. What a brilliant idea. (no pun intended)

Anyway, sounds like beer delivery might have some liability issues, so it's back to the drawing board. For now, I'm lying on the living room floor waiting for my ingenius Pet Rock equivalent idea, and drinking sangria. So even if I never make a penny, at least the sangria is yummy in my tummy.

Woohoo!

2009-03-26T12:20:00.001-07:00

I know. I have been seriously slacking. But it's not the same when you don't have to sit in front of a computer all day, pretending to discover free energy.

That said, if you find yourself sitting in a windowless cubicle, living vicariously through blog reading, you should really get laid off asap. So far this month, my lay off has allowed me a week in Death Valley, a road trip to Tahoe, and a vacation to Hawaii with old coworkers, where I am writing this blog entry. Plane tickets were $280 round trip, so it's really the time to go traveling.

Email me when you get your first unemployment check. We will go to some exciting (non-cubicle) places!

Photo of me right now (Honolulu) Photo of a canyon in Death Valley:

Sledding Race!

2009-01-17T14:00:00.001-08:00

I guess being laid off isn't so bad. (Err, not while the funds are still intact... )

Wheee! :)

The food network

2008-12-08T21:09:00.000-08:00

The food network is awful. The devil. The bane of my existence.

I watch the Food Network whenever I get to a cable tv. This is why it is so bad. Once I catch a glimpse, I can't stop looking at the buttery shrimp alfredo and the impossibly-decadent creme brulee. I spend hours fantasizing (drooling, really) over the images of these sensuous, tender cuisines, and am overwhelmed with desire. My brother has quite appropriately nicknamed it the "food porn channel," and if my suspicions are correct, his elaborate collection of videos had to be erased from the hard drive when he was watching too much.

Having unwittingly set myself down this self-destructive path, the rest of the day proceeds as follows:

1) I go through the refrigerator hoping to discover a recently-prepared serving of Italian lamb cacciatora, but I only find a jar of plum jelly, some questionable leftovers, and part of a cabbage.

2) The trip to the store is expensive and time consuming. It takes ten minutes to figure out what borragine is, much less where to find it (or in this case, what the hell could substitute for it) and then a little while longer debating whether $12 is worth spending on jar of lavendar petals that I will never use again.

3) Having decided that the lamb shanks are too expensive and much too large for one person to eat, I return to my house having wasted $45 on two lamb chops, no lavendar, no borragine, one bottle of wine and one head of garlic. Plus, a red onion, because hey, red onions are good with lamb, right?

4) Two hours later: Seven-eighths of a bottle of wine sitting on the counter, piles of dishes flooding my the sink, and one dry, over-baked lamb dish that lacks in seasoning but tastes awkwardly onion-y, which completely fails to satiate any craving for Itialian cacciatora.

Fortunately, cable TV also provides the Catholic Evangelist Channel, where I can pay for my sins using three easy installments of only $299.99 (call in the next 15 minutes, and get a free baptism!). I think they got that idea from The Ab-erciser and free Onion Chopper Turbo combo deal on HSN. Anyway, the Catholic guy can cure blindness and stuff, so I imagine he would be able to release me back to real life, where I am supposedly contributing to society by developing clean, carbon free solar energy (but am usually writing blog entries and eavesdropping on coworkers who I suspect are slacking on the job.)