Friday, September 14, 2007

The bandwagon is fun

I just got a blue iPod nano. The world is now on mute.

Thursday, September 13, 2007


So yes, he did call me. Finally. Geez. Anyway, he called me, and we were chatting and then he mentioned in passing some fashion show I was in during college. I never told him I was in that fashion show; in fact, I'm incredibly embarrassed I was in it and try my best to hide that part of my past. It was a traditional Yellow fashion show. It wasn't my culture I was embarrased about--just my outfit: an unflattering, fluttery, bright abomination of Yellow culture.

As I shuddered from the mortifying memory of my costume, the question suddenly occurred to me. "How did you know I was in that show?" I asked.

"Oh. I saw it on your college website's news archives."

I gasped. I remembered the article well. There embedded among the stilted text was a picture of me, half smiling, cheeks pudgy from my well-earned freshmen fifteen, wearing what could only be described as a Yellow muu muu. I recoiled in horror. He had seen me at my worst and read about it. "Wait a second." I thought about it. "Did you google me?"

"Uh. Yeah."

I gasped again. He GOOGLED me, folks! I felt so e-violated. Yes, more so because he had read the article on my fashion show and also saw a horrid picture of me. But also. I was googled! Googled against my will!

"Stalker!" I gasped, laughing.

"What?" he said innocently. "You've never googled me?"

"No!" I exclaimed.

"I'm hurt," he said woundedly.

"Whatevs, stalker."

In case the reader can't tell, I'm half kidding. I mean, okay, I was a bit freaked out that he googled me, saw me at my lowest moment, and openly told me about it. But. Well. As the Naysayer said to me when I regaled him with this tale, "You know you were happy he googled you. Admit it."

I laughed.

"And," the Naysayer added, "who are you to talk?"

Okay. Now, while I never googled the guy, I did "look him up" on, um, well, okay, friendster, myspace and facebook, to name a few. Of course I never told him, and if he had installed sitemeter or some other monitoring device on any of his webpages, I would have been so busted as both a stalker and a hypocrite.

But he didn't.

Anyway, calling him a stalker 93 times is the only way I can stave off his ridiculing me on the picture he espied of the abominable Yellow Gal. Ugh. So mortified. And violated. And mortified.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Beating a dead horse

I googled "why isn't he calling me." Here was an an article aptly entitled Why Doesn't He Call Me? below:
Do you have a man that doesn't call you or return your calls? There could be many reasons why. Here are some ideas so you can figure out why he might not be calling you.

The Game

Some guys play the game when they start dating somebody. They don't want to come off as too desperate, so they will not call you for a few days. This usually occurs over a couple of days or so. It's completely normal and can actually mean the guy cares about keeping you around. If it spans more than a couple of days though, it's overkill, and the guy is probably not worth your time.


Your man might be a player if he calls you to go out, then afterwards you don't hear from him again for 2 weeks to a month. He calls again wanting another date. He has other priorities and only considers you to be something to fall back on when he has nobody else available. Spin it around and never return his phone calls.


If your man is officially your boyfriend, he should be calling you at least once per day on average. Being too busy is no excuse. Everybody should have at least 5 minutes to say hello to their girlfriend. Kick him to the curb if he can't make time.

Busy Job?

If he has a busy job, any man should have at least 5 minutes of time to just say "Hey!" Many men use their jobs as an excuse to not have to call while living it up with the boys. Be careful, he might legitimately not be able to get to a phone if he travels a lot, but chances are you're just not important enough for him to care about. You deserve a man that's not too busy for you.

Online Chat

Chatting can be considered equivalent to a phone call. Many people now prefer chat over a phone call because they can multitask on their computer while they converse. It is also much cheaper than a phone call. Don't expect as many phone calls if you are able to chat with him.

Use your best judgement. There is no one answer as to why your man isn't calling you. However, if you feel you are being reasonable as to how much you require your man to call you and you are still uncomfortable, you might want to reconsider why you're with him. Move on to somebody else that will call you and give you the security.
Ok. I think I know all of this already. I just like to pretend that I don't.

Bad Asian

Is it bad that I like the song, "Kung Fu Fighting"? I can't help it, every time I hear it, I laugh. Who can resist lyrics like "funky Chinamen"?

I'm a bad Asian, I know.


The dude hasn't called me yet. Unbelievable! Okay it is believable. Still though. What the f.

But it's okay. I feel better now knowing that I'm going to bump into Yellow Laywer in Las Vegas in November. Woo hoo!

Monday, September 10, 2007

Crazy dumb ass

I have many habits. For example, I have to walk around my apartment while brushing my teeth. I can never just stand in front of the mirror, I must walk around. Another example is that I have to close my closet door before I fall asleep. If I'm in bed and about to doze off, but notice the closet door is ajar, I will get up and close it.

Anyway, I just realized today that I have another habit. Yes, it's a boy-related habit. Whenever I'm waiting for a guy to call me, I will inevitably think/yell every five minutes, "Why the fuck hasn't he called me yet?" Then like clockwork I pick up my cell phone, flip it open to ensure that (1) I didn't miss any calls, and (2) it is indeed turned on. Then when my phone rings, I gasp in excitement, and then sigh in disappointment when I see it's someone else.

Friends, when a girl picks up the phone with that "Oh, it's just you"-tone of voice, chances are, she's waiting for a call from a guy she went on a date with two days ago and hasn't heard from yet.

In sum

In un-Yellow Gal-like fashion, I will keep this short and devoid of neurosis. The date was "good." Food, then jazz show, then drinks. He walked me to my door. And kissed me. Good kisser.

Now I'm waiting for his call. If he calls. We'll see!

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Sad headline

I just read in the Times that Luciano Pavoratti passed away. And it made me really sad.

It's not that I was a huge Pavoratti fan, much less an opera fan. I just kind of grew up with Pavoratti in the background in the 80s. He was a rare instance of me and my parents' simultaneous recognition and appreciation of the same celebrity. And while I wasn't an avid watcher of his performances, I always found him to be charming.

Very sad and almost shocking. My condolences to the bereaved.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

One of the causes of insomnia

is giddiness.

I had him at hi

Okay okay. So I followed one of Whatchamacalit's pieces of advice and decided, what the hey, I'll contact Friends Zone guy and casually ask him to "just hang out." Nothing more, nothing less. If he "rejects" me, it'll be like that between friends, so no pressure, right?


Well it took me about five hours to type "Hi" in an email. It started with an "H." Then I would delete the "H." Then I'd type it again. Then I wrote "i." Okay I'm exaggerating, but you get my point. I had no idea why it was so hard for me to just contact him. I guess, first, I never ask guys out. And second, I really liked him. But we're "just friends" so asking a friend to hang out is so not a big deal.

So I wrote my casual email. It said: "Hi. Do you like live jazz?" This email was supposed to segue into a string of emails where I would eventually ask him to go hear a local jazz band playing Saturday evening. Saturday was my only free evening for the next couple of weeks, and I had hoped I'd be spending it with him. Soon after I hit "send," I saw a response in my inbox.

His response: "No."

Nothing more, nothing less. My heart sank, and I felt very very very stupid. Instead of stopping the bleeding, I replied: "Oh? Why not?"

And I waited. And waited. Nothing appeared in my inbox. Oh my god he's dissing me. He's never going to respond. I'm such an idiot! Why did I email him? This is what I get for breaking The Rules. That f-ing Friends Zone. I suck. Oh well, lesson learned, next!!

Then he replied: "I'm just not a huge live jazz fan. I'm more into the indie stuff. Here's a link to an example of a band I like."

I clicked on the link and listened to some samples. Good stuff. I replied and said as much.

His response: "They're in town this Saturday. Wanna check it out?"

At this point, I literally squealed at my computer. "Sure," I replied. "When and where?"

We ironed out the details; and now he's picking me up Saturday night. Ack! I'm both excited and scared and happy and nervous.

So yeah, I was all freaked out about asking him out, and he ended up asking me out. On Saturday night.

We'll see what happens!

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

The dreaded Zone

I'm in a bit of a predicament. It's about this guy. (It always is, isn't it?) I've known him for about two years now. We've bumped into each other at various professional events, chit chatted and nothing more. I never really thought much of him other than an easy-going, funny guy. In the last few months, I started to get the feeling he might be interested in me. I hung out with him in a group once and my girlfriend who was there confirmed she thought he liked me. Later that week he emailed me and asked me to hang out. Just us.

I wasn't interested in him in that way. He was fun to chat with, but he's not...shall we say...traditionally handsome. One of my girlfriends rated him, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being butt ugly, 5 being average and 10 being perfect, a "2." Another girlfriend bluntly said he didn't even make the scale. So, needless to say, he ain't Brad Pitt.

Anyhow, I had to make it clear to him he was in the Friends Zone, that dreaded category of guys who are really sweet and sensitive but whom the girl will never sleep with. So when he asked me to hang out after work, I suggested lunch instead. When he called me later and left a voicemail saying he just wanted to see how I was doing, I never returned his call. YES it was rude but I believed it was necessary to demarcate the boundaries of the Zone. Afterwards, I never affirmatively contacted him; it was always he contacting me.

So that was that. Friends Zone boundaries have been clearly marked. Everything is hunky dory now, right?


Last Thursday, he emailed me asking me to go to an outdoor art fair on Sunday. I had plans with a girlfriend Sunday evening, so I replied that I'd run it by my friend and maybe we'd stop by (again, reiterating the Friends Zone by bringing along a friend).

Later that same day, I was having an after work drink with my girlfriend (the one who said the guy didn't even make the scale), and we were talking about boys. As I sipped my vodka cranberry, I began to muse over the various guys I've met and dated this past year. Then I thought about the Friends Zone guy. "You know," I said, "if he were just a little bit cuter, I might actually like him. You know?"

She looked at me warily. "Uh huh..." she nodded slowly while stirring her drink with her black stirrer.

I took another sip and thought about it more. "I mean, he's funny, smart, laid-back," I added. "He's pretty cool."

She continued to look at me warily. "I think," I said hesitantly, "I think...on some level...I...actually...might--" her head strained forward at this point "--you know. On some level."

She put her glass down. "Wow," she said, staring at me. "For you to overlook completely someone's physical appearance and like someone solely based on personality -- that shows what a good person you are." She lifted her glass again. "Wow," she repeated.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was supposed to be a compliment, but it showed how hideous she thought this guy was.

Afterwards, as I sat on the train home, I thought about him. And then it hit me. (Like a train, no less.) Maybe I did like him. What was holding me back? There was nothing wrong with him. In fact, I always felt really comfortable around him, good, even. And he made me laugh.

No no no no, I thought to myself, it's the vodka talking. You'll wake up and this'll be just a drunk thought.

When I woke up the next morning, the first thought I had was of him. Not just a thought, but a dreamy giddy happy thought. Crap! I thought to myself, I do f-ing like him! What now?!This never happened to me, a guy friend "growing" on me. Well, okay once. My last boyfriend.

I went to work, still startled by my recent epiphany. My girlfriend emailed me saying she would pass on the art exhibit "but have fun!" So I emailed the guy and said I'd go.

Sunday arrived. And it came time to decide what I was going to wear. T shirt and jeans? Tank top and capris? Or cute strapless summer dress that brushed against my thighs? Hmm. I realized I must have liked him because I went with choice C.

We met at the art fair entrance and he came armed with a couple of small bottles of red wine. "BYOB," he said to me as he tapped the cloth bag holding the Cabernet. "Cool," I said. How did he know I liked red wine better than white wine?

We walked amongst the paintings, sketches, abstract sculptures and jewelry, musing over whether or not we could replicate the art ourselves.

"I could totally do that," he said to a pile of dirt on the floor. He looked at the price tag. "And for $900 a pile, that ain't too bad."

"But you don't get it," I said. "The 'latent earth' is arranged in a certain way. There's an energy to its randomness."

He looked at me. "Yellow Gal, it's a pile of dirt on the floor."

I laughed. "You have no vision," I insisted.

"Dirt is dirt. Now that is art," he said pointing to a Monet-esque landscape.

"Fine," I relented.

We walked for a bit more and then sat down at a park bench to sip on our little wine bottles. He pulled out a container of Cheez-It crackers. "Instead of cheese and crackers, I brought cheese crackers," he explained with a nod. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Drinking wine from a bottle on a bench, very classy," I said as I unscrewed the cap of my wine bottle.

"Yeah, the only things we need are some newspapers and a shopping cart full of garbage bags."

"Mocking the poor, I like it," I nodded. "Cheers," I said, holding up my bottle. "Cheers," he responded, and we clinked our bottles.

I had an amazing time with him. We cracked each other up over the most random stuff. And I discovered we had a few more things in common. I felt so much more attracted to him. Crap, I thought to myself, now I really really like him.

As the day waned and the artists began packing up their exhibits, he turned to me and asked, "Are you hungry? I could go for some Yellow food."

I gasped. Not only did he know my preference for red wine over white, but he also tapped into my ultimate weakness: Yellow food. My own comfort food. And while he wasn't exactly my shade of Yellow, I knew he wasn't just fronting like he liked it, because he started rattling off specific dishes that only a true fan of the cuisine could know. I was impressed. And even more enamored.

"I so wish I could, but I'm meeting up with my girlfriend for dinner," I said, truly disappointed.

"Well," he said, "I'm going to Yellow Town anyway."

"But she lives right around there, maybe I'll go with you for a bit before I meet her?"

"Oh-kay," he said. Yes, I was making it pretty obvious that I wanted to hang out with him more.

So we took the train to Yellow Town and as we walked towards our particular restaurant destination, we saw a long line.

"Argh, there's a line." I looked at my watch. "I have to meet her in an hour, so I guess I'll just start walking to her place."

"Okay," he said. Then he walked alongside me in that direction.

"Oh, are you walking me?" I asked. "It's a bit away."

"Only until I see another place for food."

He ended up walking me to her place. Two miles. He stopped at her apartment lobby and looked at me. "This was cool," he said.

"Yeah," I said smiling stupidly. I had no idea what the F to do. I suddenly felt like a moron.

"Okay, see ya," he waved.

"Oh, okay, bye," I responded and waved.

And that was that.

Now I feel totally clueless. If this were purely a dating situation, I'd wait to hear from him. But I had previously demarcated the Friends Zone. How to un-demarcate short of wearing a sign that says "Do me"? What if he's lost interest? My friends defined the art fair outing as a date. It certainly felt like one. But was it?

It's so funny. Before when I talked to him, I was so lackadaisical. And now that I actually like him, I'm completely anxious, and I'm scouring my flimsy repertoire of dating knowledge to figure out what to do next.

Why did it take me this long to realize that I liked him? Did I like him all along or did it just hit me when I put it together that one night?

Who knows. I just hope I didn't F this one up.
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