Baited Breadth

Quick, Pop Quiz time! How do you say "cheese omelet" in French?



Interestingly enough, that episode touches — humorously — on a theme that I've had rolling around in my head for a week or so now, as an idea for a short story. I'm considering spending some of my weekend perhaps outlining that idea, seeing if I can come up with an actual plot for it. It's time to try to recapture some of that confidence I had from this year's short story contest, and see where it takes me.

I found some inspiration (not for the story) today while trolling around on OkCupid. One of my "Quiver" matches mentioned The Worm in his profile, which inspired a video search, which led me to stumble on the below.

By the by, there are elements that aren't safe for work. You've been warned.

Cream of Wheat: It's What for Dinner

When you are a well-endowed woman like myself, sometimes the best part of the day is that moment when you can finally remove the bra and let your flesh relax. Not that those days are necessarily bad up to that point: it's just a good feeling. Of course, it's an even better feeling when someone else is removing that bra for you ...

But I digress.

It's too late to order in Chinese food, which I'm probably craving due to the remnants of a hangover, so while I wait for my Cream of Wheat to cook, I'd like to make a public service announcement:

Men, when going on a date with a lady, particularly a first, second or third date, it is probably best to avoid arriving at the date drunk.

I speak from experience, both distant and recent. Last night's OkCupid date — a first date, at Pisco Latin Lounge, which I can totally recommend for the drinks and food, bad company notwithstanding — was definitely, obviously (and self-admittedly) "tipsy" when I got there. It made for a uninhibited exposure of all his personality faults and inability to hold a conversation that wasn't 75% self-centered. There were some hints of positives, but they never got the chance to make more than a guest appearance.

I'm usually inclined to give a guy a second chance to make up for an awkward first date. Dating isn't easy, I'm still learning the ropes and the boundaries myself. But if you don't have control enough to keep yourself presentable for the pre-arranged first time I'm going to meet you, you're not worth it. I will be polite and listen to you for the hour or two that I have to endure it, I will "let" you pay for the drinks and food I have ordered, and I will not feel guilty about the fact that I don't intend to reciprocate the favor at any future point in time.

At least this one only verbally tried to pressure me into going home with him, rather than physically latching onto my arm like the last guy who showed up drunk to our date.

The night, in case you are concerned, did not end in a complete wash. Indignant at the thought of having wasted my time putting on makeup and ironing my sexy shirt, on the way home I stopped into my local bar for a quick drink, and ended up getting invited to play pool (badly) with a few guys. Which ended up in a couple more drinks being paid for, some healthy fun flirtation, and an after party of dancing to the Talking Heads, bullshitting and admiring appliances until the night was no longer night.

Hence the hangover, despite which I still dragged myself out this afternoon to join Elsie at Thee Parkside to see her friend Augustus play in his new band. (They were pretty good.) I ended up following her afterwards to the CD release party of a friend of hers, and then getting mistaken for a lesbian by a lesbian. I think I will take that as a compliment: lesbians are totally cooler than I am.

Not How You Want to See Yourself Described on a Dating Site

Ouch.



These guys are definitely a no-win with this lady. Sorry. I guess I am picky.

Kodachrome-Colored Glasses

Cute Guy(tm) told me the other day that I need better pictures on my OkCupid profile. This was not an unprompted comment, by the way: it was after I told him that I hadn't had any dates since the Jew dumped me in March. I said I'm not very photogenic. He doesn't believe me, and made an off-hand offer to maybe get together over 4th of July weekend for a photo shoot. I am considering taking him up on it, if he was serious.

In the meantime, I decided this evening to comb through my digital photos for replacements of the ones currently on my profile — I must have some decent pictures of myself, right? Ones that don't involve alcohol or hugging men — and ended up instead getting sidetracked on Memory Lane. Look at my life in pictures, and it seems pretty frickin' awesome: I have tons of friends, we've done tons of goofy things. I have smiled a lot in the camera's eye. I kind of forget about that when I'm in the Moment of Sad.

Reflecting back on those days when I've been restless and depressed, I'm starting to regret keeping my photo albums hidden in the closet. And I'm also starting to regret being cheap, and not printing out more of the photos I take, letting them instead get uploaded to my computer and then forgotten. I could use those memories the most when I'm at my lowest.

At any rate, if you're feeling sad about what's not in your life right now, I recommend going through your pictures from the past few years. Don't think about what's happened to the people since, just think about the moment when you were there, smiling, drinking that drink, doing that crazy thing. That's why we take them, right? Investment against future sorrow.

I was supposed to have plans this weekend. However, my car decided otherwise: just before I entered the freeway on-ramp, which would have lead me to crossing the Bay Bridge, she shut down completely — no radio, no ignition, not even hazard lights. Really glad I have AAA road side, and really glad that it was a near miss: one of my nightmares is having a breakdown actually on the Bay Bridge, where there's really no safe way to escape. People are grumpy enough about the S-curve, I don't think they'd be able to handle a stalled Ford Escort as well.

So instead of seeing a movie and going to a barbecue yesterday, and instead of celebrating my mother's birthday today, I've been cooking and Netflixing and gaming. Today I walked from my apartment to the JCC and finally got Bruce ready for his first firing. It's been quiet, and I've been trying not to worry about whether or not this is The End for my car. I love that car, by the way — and yeah, I know it's dumb to love an inanimate object. But we've had 11 years and 125,000 miles together. Whoever takes her place will have some big tires to fill.

Soul (Mate) Searching

(Go to track 3 ... and then back to track 1.)

The Cute Guy(tm) at Krav came up to me the other day, grinning. "Did you get my message?"

"What message?" I don't have access to personal emails/Facebook/etc. while at work, since I have a StupidPhone and our internet access is restricted. And I hadn't yet been home.

"I found you on OKcupid today."

//Imagine me bringing a hand up to half-hide my face in a blush.// Singsong voice: "Embarassing."

I suppose I shouldn't have felt shamed — I mean, he was on there, too, right? And that's what he said: I shouldn't be embarrassed, because everyone else is on there now.

Which brought up the topic — one that came up again tonight in a Gchat conversation — of how difficult it is to meet people. Once you're out of school, it's almost impossible to meet anyone new — new friends, new lovers, new enemies. I guess there's the bar, but it's not really my thing — plus, so many bar people go there in packs with their own friends. I have my classes, but it took me years to start hanging out with anyone from there. It's work-intensive. Sometimes too much so, it seems.

As I said to my best friend, it's enough to make me regret not spending more time soul mate searching back in college. (Then he pointed out that I'm not the husband-hunting type ... which is kind of too true. Curse me.)

I guess I shouldn't feel so bad: I don't have a divorce under my belt, I'm not stuck living with someone I want to punch in the face every day, I've learned to be sort of independent. And heck, even Cute Guy needs a robot to help him sometimes. Why shouldn't I?