this post from Classy in Philadephia made me re-think about what i really want in life.

oh so serious.

but oh so true.

p.s. i have got to get out of this funk. *sigh*

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I'm feeling miserable today.

I can't explain why it hurts to be rejected by someone I didn't even like.

Or someone I didn't even know, for that matter.

Worse even to be rejected by someone I know and do like.

When it rains, it definitely pours.

Now, I just need to have enough heart to wait out the storm so I can see my rainbow.

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I finally went out with Mr. Hapa last night. Erm . . . how do I describe the date . . . Let me see . . .

It was . . . not good.

Worse than not good.

First of all, he was 30 minutes late. Which is fine really because I'm almost always late so I don't really have issues with someone being late but dude, it's our first date. I was hoping he'd be a little bit more prepared but whatever. I could deal with that.

But then he got there . . . and everything just got worse . . . and worse . . . and I'm not even kidding because it totally wasn't funny.

So, I already had an idea that Mr. Hapa might be kind of on the short side. I mean that literally so get your mind off the gutter. I don't mean short like a little person, which wouldn't be an issue if he was because I think little people are fascinating but that's not the point I'm trying to make. Mr. Hapa's profile on Match indicated that he was 5'6". Umm, really? Because he might have over-estimated his height a little bit. It seemed like he was more like 5'5" and some change. I mean, 5'6" isn't really short in Asian terms but I prefer my men to be a little bit taller than that. You know, so I can wear heels and not feel guilty about it. And so I don't have to lean down when kissing him. And so I don't feel like Katie Holmes with Tom Cruise. Or Nicole Kidman with Tom Cruise. Or any normal-sized woman with Tom Cruise because I really do not like that dude. But seriously, the height difference wasn't really even that big of a deal. Not really. I mean, it would've been preferable if he was taller but I could've lived with having a not-so-tall boyfriend. Totally.

Thing is, it wasn't just the height. I was slightly perplexed by what he was wearing, too. Okay, so yesterday was a very nice sunny day in Southern California. I was wearing a cute white top with black abstract markings, nice dark jeans and sexy gold fuck-me heels. Thing is, I think the fashion gods might have thought it funny to finally get payback for all my past fashion faux pas because Mr. Hapa didn't look very . . . put together. First of all, he was wearing sneakers. I mean, who the heck wears sneakers on a date? What is he, like, seventeen? Plus, his jeans were slightly oh-so-tight which is almost always a fashion don't on heterosexual men. But no, the worst part of the entire outfit was his turtleneck sweater. Yes, Mr. Hapa was wearing a freaking turtleneck sweater . . . in 70-degree weather! This honestly led to some moments during the date where I would zone out because I was trying to figure out how his armpits could possibly not be sweating in the heat. Seriously, I was wearing a thin shirt and I was feeling a bit damp so I have no idea how he couldn't have been. But okay, fine, I could let this one slide, too. I mean if we ever got together, I figured I could always accidentally shrink all most of his clothes and blame the dryer, right? So see, I'm not entirely shallow. I do know how to compromise.

So yea, I was fine with the height thing. And the clothes thing. I could be un-judgey when I want to be. Besides, he seemed like a really nice guy so I put on my brightest smile and decided to continue on with our date. I should've probably listened to my gut. Because the next thing I knew, Mr. Hapa brings me over to the food court to have dinner. Yes, you heard me. He took me and my new cute first-date outfit and my sexy heels and my pretty hair TO A FREAKING FOOD COURT! WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I was seriously super majorly over-the-top horrified, not to mention humiliated. I didn't even have time to do the "reach for my purse and offer to pay for half" thing because I was too busy weaving in and out of the line for the cashier and trying not to fall flat on my face in my fuck-me heels. And if that wasn't bad enough, it felt like the entire food court crowd was looking at us because I was dressed to the nines and he was dressed like he just came home from grocery shopping. Oy.

So yea, you could say our first date didn't turn out so well.

A second date is definitely out of the question.

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Just saw this in the comments sections of Lilu's blog and ohmagawd . . . BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Just had to repost it. Thanks for the laughs, Maxie (Lilu's commenter). You made my day!

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So, remember my first post about Mr. Hapa? Well, things are going pretty great. I don't want to get ahead of myself but so far, things are awesome. We've been talking on the phone and texting like crazy, it feels like I'm in high school all over again. So far, so good.

Mr. Hapa and I are planning on meeting in person for the first time this weekend, and I'm feeling a little nauseous about it. Like I said before, I give a bad first impression. I do. I stutter and get shifty-eye syndrome. Worse, I get verbal diarrhea when I'm nervous where sh*t basically comes out of my mouth. Not literally because that would be really gross. And I don't mean sh*t like I become a potty mouth (which btw, I am but he still doesn't know about it). I mean I talk about stuff I probably shouldn't be telling someone I just met. Like how I get major diarrhea when I eat anything with lactose. Or how my necklace looks like a vagina.

Now that I think about it, I've mentioned both things to Mr. Hapa before . . . and he still wants to meet up . . . Huh.

Theoretically, the first impression phase was done after our first 2-hour phone convo last Sunday but still. HE HASN'T SEEN ME YET. And like all girls, I'm kinda-sorta-only slightly freaking out about it.

Should I run out and get some cute outfit? Or should I just dress the way I normally would (jeans + nice top)? Should I get a mani/pedi and a haircut? What about an eyebrow wax? Ugggh.

And ohmygawd, what is considered correct first date etiquette? Do I offer to pay? Do I not offer to pay? Because I remember Ted from How I Met Your Mother having an issue with one girl who didn't at least do the "reach for the purse" move when the bill came. And I probably shouldn't order pasta or noodles. Or anything that can potentially get stuck in between my teeth. Or anything that could give me bad breath in case we kiss. Sh*t. Does kissing on a first date make me slutty-ish? What about hugging? Or kisses on the cheek? Or holding hands? Seriously, who the hell knows the rules? Is there a number I can call? And please don't say Dr. Phil or I'll stab you. I obviously need help. So many dilemmas, I tell you.

I hate being a girl. I'm so nervous that this could turn out to be one of the worst nights ever.

Actually, I take that back.

Being a girl rocks because I get to go out on dates with guys who could potentially be a potential. And this might just turn out to be a great first date that Mr. Hapa and I will both talk about for a long long time.

We'll see where it goes. I'll let you know what happens.

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So last night, I was talking on the phone with a guy I met online and we totally hit it off. I'll call him Mr. Hapa (a new word I learned from him which means half-and-half) since he's 50% Asian, 50% white and 100% cute. Like I said, Mr. Hapa and I hit if off. Well, I think we did. I mean, it was a 2-hour phone call that ended only because he had to wake up early today. Psssh.

Anyway, our getting-to-know-you convo suddenly veered towards dealbreakers. This might sound entirely bizarre but it was a very enlightening experience for me. No, it wasn't because of Mr. Hapa's answers (which were awesome btw) but more so because of mine. Maybe I'm just slightly self-absorbed like that. *snicker*

Moving on, so I was telling Mr. Hapa about my dealbreakers. Mine were the following:

1) Not being a gentleman. Major MAJOR pet peeve. Prime example: walking through a door and not looking to check if someone's behind you so the door ends up slamming in the girl's face. I mean, that's not even being a gentleman. That's being a decent human being! Obviously, I feel strongly about this issue. Yes, I'm talking to you, caveman-like-douche-i-went-out-with-that-one-time! Learn to open doors for ladies, especially ones you're out on a date with! And while you're at it, buy yourself some sense of humor . . . which totally brings me to my next dealbreaker.

2) No sense of humor. I love sense of humor. We're chummy chums, sense of humor and I. Sometimes he's slapstick, oftentimes he's sarcastic, sometimes he's bad, oftentimes he's really really good. I don't care in what size, shape or form sense of humor comes in, I like them all.

3) Bad personal hygiene. Seriously, is it so hard to take a shower, brush your teeth, cut your nails and clean your nose/ears/in between your toes?! I don't get what the deal is. You see, I have an issue with smell. Mr. Hapa thinks this is weird since I'm a nurse and I deal with super stinky stuff on a daily basis. That's not the point, Mr. Hapa. I don't date my patients so that doesn't count. Pffft. Anyway, if the guy I'm dating has bad breath, stinky feet and general BO, I'm not giving him a sponge bath. I'm kicking him to the curb.

4) Not wanting kids. I love kids. I do. I love kids so much I want to be a pediatric nurse one day. 'Nuff said.

5) Not having a good relationship with his family. This is a grey area for me. I can't generalize and say that all men with family issues are not going to be great boyfriends/husbands. I do know that there are some great guys out there who, through no fault of their own, just got unlucky with the family they were born into. Maybe the stork made a mistake. Or got lost. Or was drunk. Anyhoo, I also know that there are guys out there who were brought up in wonderful families, but turned out to be world-class jerks. So yea, this isn't a clean-cut issue. I'll be honest, though, the guys I know who grew up in loving families are some of the nicest, most genuine people I know.

So there you have it. My top 5 dealbreakers.

Wow. I never thought I'd take Mr. Hapa's question so seriously. Funny. Maybe it was something I ate last night.

Anyhoo, I woke up this morning and texted a few more dealbreakers to Mr. Hapa since the 5 I mentioned obviously don't cut it.

1) Mullets and Combovers. Making people ugly since the dawn of time.

 

2) Fanny Packs. Real men DON'T wear fanny packs. In fact, nobody should wear fanny packs. EVER.

3) Fishnet/mesh shirts, mankinis and tighty whities. Do I seriously need to explain why this is so so wrong?

Then again, if you looked like this in tighty whities then maybe.

4) Unibrows, crooked/broken teeth, hairy chests and porno moustache. Just like Burt Reynolds. Except he doesn't have crooked teeth.

5) Not knowing the difference between "your" and "you're". And "lose" or "loose". And don't get me started on spelling "must've" as "must of". Must've = must have. Must of = just doesn't make sense.

So far, Mr. Hapa says he's passed all of my "pre-requisites". Awesome. Guess the deal isn't broken yet.

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I saw this video over at the bloggess' blog, and it made me realize that being part of a flash mob should definitely go on my bucket list.



It looks silly-fun, doesn't it?! And I know I could totally do those dance moves. Well, probably. After all, I am an awesome dancer, if I do say so myself. But someone will have to show it to me a couple a few about 527 times and then I'll get it. It'll be perfect!

Not to brag or anything but there are a number of dance steps that I was able to do right on the get-go. Okay, maybe not right away but definitely before the 527th try. If I were in charge of picking dance moves that should make a comeback, those would definitely be on top of the list. On a totally random note, wouldn't that be the coolest job ever?

Anyhoo, I found this video which showcases EVERY SINGLE ONE of my famous dance moves. Have a look-see.



Awesomesauce.

But back to the topic at hand, maybe I should just go do a flash mob thing on my own, like this guy. Though I doubt mall security would appreciate my explanation of why I was acting like a crazy person at the mall. They're not very sharp, those guys.

Anyway, I should probably get off the interwebs now and start forcing blackmailing asking people to be part of my flashers. I'm sure they'd be happy to do it.

HAPPY DANCING, Y'ALL.

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this is soooooo ADORABLE!

i can't believe i'm jealous of otters.

i have now sunk to a new low.

pssssh. 

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Seriously, how are these guys still single?! Not that I know that for sure. They look like it, though.

But they're totally awesome.

And a little bit weird. 

Guess that answers my question.

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Ohmygawd, I have no words.



BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

No wonder my patients come back from the MRI looking traumatized.

Wait, let me watch it again . . .

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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Not that that's a real word or anything. But don't you think it's the coolest word ever?

*crickets chirping*

And speaking of redinky-donky, I think this vid I saw in CollegeHumor.com is ridinky-donky to the nth power.

I present to you: Web Site Story.

I told you. Totally redinky-donky.

I'll never get tired of saying that. Redinky-donky.

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What a crazy random happenstance.

So, I read about this mini-online series online (obviously) and my curiousity was instantly piqued as to why so many people were foaming-at-the-mouth crazy about it. Why not? It's a Josh Whedon creation after all. And what is Josh Whedon, if not pure genius?

Anyhoo, I now think everyone should watch Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog. It is abso-fucking-lutely over-the-top ri-donk-culously fantastic! No, really.

And since I'm also abso-fucking-lutely over-the-top ri-donk-culously fantastic, I'm adding these to my post so you don't have to go searching for it online.

Act 1, Part 1

Act 1, Scene 2

Act 2, Scene 1

Act 2, Scene 2

Act 3, Scene 1

Act 3, Scene 2

You're welcome.

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