Ordinary Extraordinary

Cross Cultural Compliment

I got an email today from a French woman who found my site while searching for "extraordinary blog." Her email was lovely, and in it she described my writing as un style aérien, plein de vivacité, de malice avec un merveilleux sens de l'auto-dérision.

Fortunately I speak French, otherwise the richness of her comment would have been lost on me. Roughly translated, she said that I have a light style, full of vivacity and micheviousness with a wonderful sense of self-deprication.

I was touched, not only because she took the time to write (as other bloggers can testify, most of the people who set themselves to wrting an email have nothing good to say) but also because she showed me that my writing is cross-cultural.

Anyone who has ever learned a second language will tell you that idioms and humor are the two hardest things to learn (I'm still not fluent enough in French to tell jokes or understand many slang expressions), so it gives me some measure of pride that my sense of humor is clear enough to transcend a secondary or tertiary language barrier.

It was a nice confidence boost on a day when I sorely needed it.

First Date

There's so much that we share
That it's time we're aware
It's a small world after all*

Last night was my first date with the guy who shall henceforth be known as SW. Why SW? Because we share a very Small World. So far we've discovered that:

• He used to work in the office complex in which I currently work.
• He lives mere blocks from one of my first apartments in Hollywood.
• We have the same favorite bar and preferred cocktail.
• Not only do we work in the same industry, we work in the same narrow field of that industry.
• We were at USC at the same time... we even graduated the same year.
• In college, his roommate was good friends with a friend of mine.

Though we found each other online, it's incredibly likely that we've actaully crossed paths before at a party or two. World wide web? Ha!

We arrived at Luna Park for dinner at almost the exact same time and recognized each other immediately, thus avoiding any awkward standing-around-trying-to-look-nonchalant moments for either of us. He's cuter than his photo and his smile, which was what I'd noticed first on his profile, is even more engaging in person.

I had an unintentional back-up plan at the restaurant when I discovered a co-worker seated at the table behind ours, but fortunately I didn't need it... we managed to keep up an easy, steady stream of conversation through drinks, dinner, and dessert. When we were not-so-subtlely given our check (the waiter was rushing us endlessly last night... I'd never had that problem at Luna Park before and I was annoyed) we decided to head up to Birds to continue drinking and chatting.

Five hours, several drinks, and much laughter later I reluctantly called it a night so that I would be able to keep my eyes open on the drive home.

Next time (*crosses fingers*) we'll have to make less boisterous location choices... by the end of the evening I was a bit hoarse from talking loudly (and a bit sore from smiling so much *g*).

SW gets it. He paid for dinner, but graciously accepted my buying a round of drinks later. He put his hand on my arm, or on the small of my back while walking through crowds. He introduced me to his friends when we ran into them at the bar. And at the end of the evening, there was no hesitation... just his hand on my cheek and his lips on mine. Zing!

I grinned like an idiot the entire drive home.

-----
*It's been stuck in my head since last night so I thought I would share the magic. I'm a giver that way.

H2O

People, it's still just water. It should not have taken me over an hour to get home.

Sheesh.

Promising Beginning

After reading my tales of woe, the ever-helpful Jason pointed me to consumating.com as a potentially skeeve-free alternative to the bigger, scarier personals sites.

Thank you, Jason.

So far Consumating seems to be a well-designed, well-executed site full of fun, geeky people like me. There are no stupid checkboxes, or awkward descriptive essays, or the frustrating feeling of trying to describe the entirety of your being in four limited categories. Instead there are photos, and tags, and weekly questions and contests. I wish there was a bit more search functionality, but it's a small price to pay for not having a creep in sight!

I've chatted with a bunch of interesting people since joining, including this guy:

He: i.e. i only speak portugese out loud
He: english is strictly written for me
Me: Hmm... well I speak French so I might be able to pick out a word here or there. I'll bring a pad of paper and a pencil though, just to be safe...
He:: i can already picture it....
Me: It'll be like a private game of pictionary.
Me: Oooh, or charades!
He: yes!
Me: The waitress will love us
Me: We'll act out our order, it'll be fantastic.
He: have you ever played charades on a first date?
Me: No, but I'm not ruling it out as a viable option
He: "I'm sorry sir, we don't serve "The Grapes of Wrath'"
Me: ROFL
Me: *dies*
He: hehehe

I am so looking forward to meeting this guy; I will totally play charades with him in a restaurant.

Battlefield

A war is being waged in my home and I am losing.

The Ants are relentless.

For every surge that falls to my mighty 409 & paper towel combination, three more waves follow, swarming uncaringly past the carnage of their brethren. They are impervios to noxious cleaning chemicals, sealed cracks, and talc. I went through an entire container of Clorox surface wipes yesterday in an attempt to sterlize every surface in my home and remove anything that might be of interest to ants.

Still they come, mercilessly attacking any knife set down too long, any miniscule crumb of food.

Today, I called for the big guns. I bought a package of ant traps; the poison smells vaguely of peanut butter. The enemy has been swarming the traps for a few hours now and already their numbers are dwindling.

Human: 1 Ants: 0

In other news, I finally picked up the two chairs & ottoman that I bought off of Cragislist last week. Hot damn did I score! Not only are they in better shape than the photo revealed, they are the most comfortable chairs ever AND they were cheap.

Craigslist rules.

Tough Day

Today at work, my boss ordered me to get iTunes installed on my computer and then gave me a rare pressing of The Who's Tommy.

Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?

Helpful Advice

Online dating really is like a giant petri dish for social interaction, isn't it?

In an attempt to protect L.A.'s innocent bachelors fend off the asshats, there is a disclaimer at the bottom of my personals ad that says I'm unapologetically a BBW. I'm fit, athletic, graceful, and proportional, but I'm not a size 6. If that's not your style, I'm not your girl. ;-).

Who knew that would be such an incendiary sentence?

Amongst the offers for nights of degradation and the (very) few sincere replies, I found two emails with the same subject line:

#1

Subject: Helpful Advice

"fit" means not overweight.  I was overweight myself, so don't take this the wrong way - but if you're expecting an attractive man you'll have to lose weight.

And the bitchy tone you take with "unapologetically a BBW", etc. makes you sound bitter and mean.  Makes the average man want to run honey. (Ed: Good thing I'm not looking for an "average man")

Anyway, I really only means this as friendly advice coming from a girl who was once overweight too. 

Cheers

Cindy

First of all, honey, I didn't ask for your advice and emailing it to me isn't altruistic so much as it is arrogant. What are you doing reading ads in the Women for Men section anyway? If you're so thin now you must have "attractive" men throwing themselves at you, right?

Oh, wait, you're still sitting home on a Thursday night cruising the personals. What's wrong with this picture?

#2

Subject: Helpful Advice

you mentioned: I'm unapologetically a BBW. I'm fit, athletic, graceful, and proportional, but I'm not a size 6. If that's not your style, I'm not your girl. ;-)

Dear lose that weight do yourself a favor you would get a nice guy if you didn't have all that lard stuck to your carcass. There is no reasont to be hitting the "crisco jar" or the "betty crocker" aisle at the supermarket constantly. By stating the that phrase you have no desire to really please yourself and any man that you would like to be involved with. A real man wants to come home to a smokin hot chick who has curves not stare at some fat whale

Sergio

There are so many things wrong with this email I don't even know where to start, but it would be helpful if it was written in something resembling proper English. Clearly he's in too much of a hurry to get home to that "smokin hot chick" to worry about capitalizing or punctuating.

Hang on... he's browing the personals too.

Perhpas I should introduce Cindy to Sergio! I'm sure they'd be very happy together, running other people's lives.

It's time to cap this dish and throw it in the biohazard bin; thank god Margaret Cho is here to offer some perspective.

I am beautiful now.

Prince Charming

I have found my Prince Charming. I was his the moment I read his reponse to my personals ad:

Subject: Your place

Let me know what you think.

I'm available exclusively if you host.

I'm safe, sane, entirely discrete and very entertaining. I live in West LA. I'm 5'11" 170 fit. 7 x 4 3/4

Somewhat hairy chest.

I'm in and out so frequently that it's best you give me your number and the best time to call and I'll get in touch with you immediately!

I really do think you're a lowly pathetic piece of trash, and I'd enjoy treating you like a despicable whore. I promise I won't show you the least bit of respect, I'll just use you and toss you away.

I'll make you beg, crawl, eat and suck my scum, my ass, I'll gag you painfully, I might even plug your nose a little and watch you choke just for fun. I'd probably fuck your ass, it's probably loose on a little slut whore like, you. I might also pee and spit in your face.

Possibly put out my cigarettes on you.

Pretty much have a great time enjoying myself, ordering you around while you suffer.

You had me at "despicable whore."

*le sigh*

Hate

I HATE TRACKBACK SPAM WITH THE FIERY PASSION OF A THOUSAND BURNING SUNS.

Thank you, that is all.

Just call me Mrs. Stewart

Reason #1.974,620 to love Jon Stewart:

And today's forecast in Iraq is partly shrapnel with a chance of AAAAAAHHHHH!

Meanwhile, our President is still busy lying through his teeth.