Dating Etiquette continued

So, I've been talking about the Dating Etiquette post with some people and apparently, I missed out on two critical points. First, my sister was terrifically amused that this guy actually asked for a doggie bag to take the leftover food - especially after not having paid for it. Her point being, he probably sat there and was like, woohoo, she's just paid for my lunch tomorrow too!

The second is I forgot to mention what this guy does for a living. He's a doctor. No joke.

Dating Etiquette

I've been out of the dating scene for some time now and not really down with the times I guess. But here's a hypothetical situation - tell me what you think.

So, I have a "friend" who has been on two dates with a certain guy. Date one was to an exhibtion game that she paid for. There was a two week break due to external circumstances and date two is another hockey game. Which she also paid for. They met for dinner prior to the game, which she ALSO paid for. Though to be fair, he offered to pony up half the bill after they had already processed her credit card. Seriously?

He starts asking about a third date and she quite dryly says "We can watch TV at my house" (because he doesn't have one) and he jumps all over that with excitment!

So, am I being a bitch or snob to think that this is so not on? Early dates are just not a time to offer up dutch. Especially in your 30's! Nor should you fail to offer to pay - at least ONCE. And then all but inviting himself over to watch tv. My God.

Yup, sure am glad I'm not really hitting the dating scene. It's a jungle out there. A cheap ass one.

Horseback Riding

As most of you know, I went horseback riding a few weeks ago. Many of you probably also know that it was organized by a singles group called Meet Market Adventures. And I use the word "organize" very lightly here. These jokers would've had a hard time organizing themselves out of a paper bag so it's a good thing I didn't go in with any expectations.

There were no age restrictions or male/female ratio which didn't bode well. The surprising thing is that except for two older people, everyone was generally the same age. Which is probably the best thing I could say about the crowd that showed up. Yikes. As my mom always says, for every crooked pot, there's a crooked lid. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, my dent was far too twisted and deep in that crowd.

After signing all the necessary waivers in blood, we finally got to business with a ridiculous ice-breaker. Imagine if you will, standing at a horse ranch in the middle of nowhere (or in this case, about 10 mins outside of Squamish) in a semblance of a circle with a bunch of - let's call a spade a spade shall we? - losers. Each of us had to pull out a question from an envelope and answer it. I felt like I was in some type of commune for the sad and weary. Or at a nudist retreat gone horribly wrong. Actually, since everyone was clothed, maybe it was right since I can't think of those people naked without gagging. Since we're being totally honest here, I really don't need a damned ice-breaker thanks. I was purposely avoiding talking to anyone who didn't drive up with me.

Forty long minutes after getting there they finally start mounting us, which took another half hour since there were 20 of us. I was one of the first to be mounted and unfortunately I had Mr. Fanny Pack sitting next to me. Sigh. I did my best to ignore him while sending out my strongest bitch vibes. Yes, I recognize that I was not approaching this whole singles thing with the right frame of mind but I tend to make snap judgements and they serve me well. As was the case here. One of the "organizers" was on the other side of me and I was talking to him for a bit. He had just moved here from Montreal and so we started talking about that city and why I went there for work. As soon as the idiot on the other side of me heard "EA" he leans over and screeches "EA SPORTS. IT'S IN THE GAME". Very clever. Like I haven't heard that one before. God. So I smile politely and say "Yeah, I guess it is but I work on some of our non-sports titles". Somehow I get stuck sitting there for 10 minutes while this guy starts by telling me that athletes can make so much money for being on a cover and imagine if we made a game on poker and having a professional poker player on the cover! He completely ignores my comment that we don't make gambling games and rambles on with a litany of names that I can only imagine are professional poker players, also known as his heros. Someone should tell this asshole that referencing a potential gambling problem isn't the way into a woman's heart.

Going back to the organizer I was talking to. Martin was a young, beautiful black man who had just moved here from Montreal. And he made it very clear that he was far too urbane for horseback riding. Being standoffish and snobby is not the best trait in a host for a singles event but the bitching about bugs, smell and lack of alcohol was starting to piss me off because we had all paid money to be there. But I had the pure unadultured pleasure of seeing him trying to mount his horse. He couldn't get on because his jeans were too tight!!! I damn near fell off my horse because I was dying of laughter and after several attempts he was all but dumped unceremoniously on the back of the horse. That alone was worth my $65!

Finally we were off and I made it a point to be between a couple of friends who had come up with me so I wouldn't have to deal with anyone else. The ride itself was fun and I remember why I love horseback riding so much.

The ride was supposed to end with a bonfire. Here's where the lack of planning was most evident. There was a group of 20 and they had a couple of 2 liter bottles of pop, three campfire popcorn packages (two which were destroyed by the manly men who wanted to pop them) and a bag of chips. Not even any marshmellows! Who the hell goes to a campfire without marshmellows!!! Luckily I had the foresight to buy a couple of huge bags before heading out or I would've pitched a fit. As it was, we hung around the fire for about 15 mins and then took off. Yes it was anti-social but you needed to see that crowd before passing judgement.

So ends my most recent foray into the singles scene. The closest I got to any action was the drunk old dude who owned the ranch - he kept wanting to hug me :(

I know that most people who actually bother to read this blog are looking for dating stories but I think I'm going on hiatus. This adventure reminded me why I'm happier on my hammock with a good book.

Private Matters

Recently I read an article on how the Internet is changing the way we view 'privacy'. The writer states that the younger generation have a much more relaxed view of personal privacy. The argument is that the Gen Y have grown up with the Internet and are much more comfortable with offering their private details for shopping, online communities, etc. As a sweeping general statement, I guess I would have to agree. This is especially true as I look at my 'friends' on Facebook.

Most of my friends are around my age, well educated and really comfortable with technology. Almost everyone I know has a Facebook account and those few who don't are usually avoiding it because of crazy ex-girlfriends. Though I have a couple hundred contacts, a few accounts really stick out in my mind. All for different things but it all loops back to privacy or lack thereof.

First is the colleague who logs all his big party nights. Every Monday I look forward to seeing pictures of him half dressed and draped over strange women waving around beer bottles like trophies - as if the chicks weren't reward enough.

Then there's the colleague who recently ran into issues because another female colleague found some of his FB content offensive.  To be clear, his profile was extremely benign and usually limited to pictures of his young son. I'm not entirely sure what the woman found objectionable but I guess there's a reminder there that like privacy, peoples' threshold for 'offensive' material varies greatly.

Finally, I know someone who used to constantly make fun of people who broadcast their lives on Facebook. Basically, people to report their whereabouts and relationship status are exhibitionist and the people who react to it are voyeurs. And he's not necessarily complimentary about this observation. This of course was during his single days when he didn't have a lot to report. Recently he's met a new girl and all of a sudden nothing's too sacred to share with all and sundry. So effectively, this guy's threshold wasn't determined by age but rather how happy he was. All of a sudden he had something worth shouting from the rooftops.

At the end of the day, FB and other social networks are little more than enablers. They allow us to share, show off or communicate as we choose. The personal choices on how much you choose to share works the same in the reverse - there are personal choices to be made on how much you wish to consume of others' news and alerts.

I for one, don't need to know the mating habits of friends and so I choose to stop getting those kinds of updates. The sad thing is that most people have so many 'friends' that no one's noticed when I place them on the lovely 'blocked' list.

George Carlin

I woke up on Monday morning to the news that George Carlin had passed away. Normally, I wouldn't write about this as I've never seen any of Carlin's supposedly hilarious and mouthy, often offensive shows. Instead, the first time I ever heard of Carlin was shortly after 9/11 when the following message was sent to me. I have saved it all these years and reread it often as still inspires me.

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time.
We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We've added years to life not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor.
We conquered outer space but not inner space.
We've done larger things, but not better things.
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice.
We write more, but learn less.
We plan more, but accomplish less.
We've learned to rush, but not to wait.
We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships.
These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes.
These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.
It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom.
A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
Remember, spend some time with your loved ones because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart which doesn't cost a cent.
Remember, to say, "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all to mean it.
A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.
Give time to love, give time to speak, and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind. Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctor worry about them. That is why you pay him/her.

2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle.
" An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.

6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.

8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, to the next county, to a foreign country, but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

Pet names

It constantly shocks me how old little Macen is getting. He's going to be 6 in a few weeks but the age itself means nothing to me really. Having no real sense of what a six year old should behave like, all I can do is look at the two baby nephews and remember when Mace was that little. Especially because his little brother is the spitting image of him.

The other week, it really hit close to home that our little baby really was growing up. When I went to visit him, he told me that his fish had died earlier and took me out to show me where the poor fish had been buried. Mace then dragged me upstairs to show off his new red fish.

Let's be clear here - Mace has had a fish since he was about a year old. The fishs' names have always been "Choo Choo" because that was pretty much the only word Mace could say at the time. Well, that and "Dada" but there was someone else already answering to that. So Choo Choo is was.

Macen's second pet was a little pug named "Lilo" for the cartoon Lilo & Stitch. Finally, his new puppy was named "Ruby" for Max & Ruby.

Back to the story at hand. Mace showed me his new fish, which I assumed was named Choo Choo (4) but that was not to be so. Macen gave me a 'duh' look and informed me that the newest member of the family is named "Luke". As in Luke Skywalker! I guess the days of our innocent little baby are long past but I thought we had some more time with our little boy. Before I know it, he's going to be out dating little girls who don't deserve him. Goddess forbid.

Cote d'Azur finale

I can't believe it's taken me this long to finish this...especially because I wrote most of it while I was on the road anyway!

Day three once again dawned bright and early. I had kept this day free to go into the Alps and mountain villages. Started off in St Paul en Vence for my morning coffee. This is the village right by my hotel and I had yet to make it there. The village itself was beautiful and quaint. Tucked into the mountainside and surrounded by hills, there's been little to no modern development to it and it shows.

Next stop was Cannes – only because on a whim, I decided to take that exit on the roundabout. I pretty much decided there and then that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go there before heading to the Verdon Gorge in case I ran out of time.

Driving inside Cannes sucked ass. Even worse than Monacco and that's saying a lot. But at least it was a straight shot to the beach where the lovely, expensive yatchs lolled in their moorings. I walked around until it was time for lunch, which was a lovely banana crepe on the beach (I could really get used to this kind of eating)!

As I was walking back to my car to leave, I was stopped by a lovely man named Montana. It seems this very intelligent guy lived in NYC for 15 years and decided he’d had enough, packed it all up and moved to the EU. He currently lives in Italy with his wife and two kids and also has a place in Cannes. Pays the bills by being a golf instructor but seems to have many other ventures around. This guy has got the right idea!! I’ve decided that one day I’m going to do the same. I should let work know. Jaap, if you’re reading this, consider yourself warned.

Okay, it was now 2pm and I really needed to hit the road. The tour book said to give the canyons a full day but since when do I ever heed tour guides? I made it to Grasse (perfume capital of the world) and promptly got lost. Since I also needed the loo, I stopped at the Fragranod perfumerie and then since I was there anyway, I took their 25 minute tour. Did you know it takes about 6000 kilos of roses to make 1 litre of essence of rose for perfumes?

Finally at 3pm I headed toward the Gorge. After a hair-raising couple of hours, I finally made it to the cooler viewpoints. WOW!!! As I stood on top of those canyons, I wondered what the hell someone with vertigo was doing up there anyway. Still, it was amazing and worth the trip. Though, I would do it via tour bus next time. The drive really wasn't that much fun on my own, especially later in the day. The road was pretty much four hours of this :(

On my way home, I stopped by a little village where I guess is the touring start/stop point for the Gorge. I've never seen a 10 square mile of land so filled with bikers, hikers & granolas in my life. And I'm from the ISLAND! How mind-boggling is that?

10pm and it was home sweet home (after getting lost yet again) but the damned restaurant in the hotel was closed at 9:30!!! I thought that Europeans ate later than we did?!!? What gives? So I ate a bunch of food I had picked up at various patisseries and boulangeries along the way…how could I resist?

Three things occurred to me that evening. First that I was leaving the next day (sniff, sniff) and second, I hadn’t seen anything of Nice and third I had not once put on my bikini! Still, I had at least another 14 hours before heading to the airport, plenty of time to check a few things off.

So, after a quick dip in the beautiful hotel pool I headed to bed for an early start. The next morning, I headed to Nice for yet another crepe (had to get them all in before I went back to rainy Vancouver) and a short meander around Old Nice and their famous flower market. Frankly, it's a smaller, outdoor version of Granville Island - I wouldn't go back. But they DID have great croissants :)

And that's it - my short sojourn into the French Riviera ended on a high note too. When I bought the car back with a petite scratch, the lovely people at Hertz said I didn't need to pay for it. Viva la France!!!

Broomsticks and memories

I was at my mom's house the other day and leaning against her kitchen door was a broom that they use in Vietnam. It's basically a bunch of rushes bundled together without much of a handle so you have to bend over double to use it.


Let's not even talk about what the hell my mom was doing with it when she's got all the top of the line brooms, mops and swifters at her house. I love her but sometimes that woman just baffles me.

The reason I'm actually writing about this is it reminded me of an "incident" that happened when I was in Vietnam back in 2004. Tammi and I had spent several days in my grandma's village, which up until then had only seen one whitie (my brother-in-law who had visited the year before). This was well before the little hotel with Shirtless Ron was built (that's a whole other story) so we stayed at my grandma's house. It was about three in the morning when Tammi shook me awake and told me she heard rustling on the floor and wanted me to go investigate!!! Finally realizing that I wasn't going to get any sleep unless I did something, I bravely got out of bed and ran into the kitchen to grab anything handy (in this case, said broom). I then spent about half an hour poking around our suitcases and bags on the ground to look for the rogue rat. Let me clarify here that rats in Vietnam vary in sizes from small dog to large skunk. After my seriously half-hearted attempt (I didn't REALLY want to find it!) I finally gave up and crawled back into bed and told Tammi to stick a pillow over her head so she wouldn't hear it anymore.

Good times on the road!!!

Nice - part deux

Day Two
As I mentioned in the previous post, I crashed at around 8 the night before and woke up at around 7 the next morning. I made my way downstairs to get my coffee. Notice the shades and tank top?

The general plan for the day was to head towards Aix-en-Provence to the west but somehow I ended up on the freeway going east. There was obviously nothing for it but to swing by the big shopping center, CAP 3000. Hey, it was right there and I needed to turn around anyway. It was a huge disappointment though. At least I got to practice my French. Un croissant s'il vous plait!

Once I was back to the open road I decided I should get my ass out as westerly as I was going and then take a meandering way back. It took just under 2 hours to get to Aix-en-Provence. Side note and recommendation for anyone who wants to follow in my footsteps - do NOT drive down the A8 freeway between 130-150km/hour with the top of the convertible down, no matter how warm it is. By the end of the trip, I felt like Bridget Jones when she arrived to the B&B for her mini-break with Daniel Cleaver. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty. I made a mental note to throw a comb into my bag (which I would forget everyday!).


Provence was beautiful. Everyone describing Provence always talk about the “light” there that drew artists such as Cézanne. As a very un-artistic person, I didn’t really know (or care) what they were talking about. But when you get to Provence, it’s immediately obviously that there’s something special there. The “light” washes everything in a warm glow. After lunch, I decided it was time to move on…still had far to go.


I immediately headed south towards the coast and head towards a blip in the map called Casse. This town was called out in the travel book and is well worth a pit stop. The center of town was difficult to get to (very, very narrow, winding and steep roads)and insanely crowded as there was some event going on. I made several laps and couldn't find a place to park so I just drove through. The thing to note is that all the roads in the center of town look like marble! Incredible. As I was leaving Casse, I got a little lost and ended up driving down this strange narrow path. It had a wall on both sides and I could barely fit my small little converible. I was driving down it for about five mintues before a car started to come out a driveway and turn towards me. I was going the wrong way!!! Oops. The French should consider putting up those Do not enter signs.



I made my leisurely way towards St Tropez just in time for dinner. The road into St Tropez was very long and windy. Reminded me of the drive to Tofino on the Island with less cliffs. St. Tropez is very posh (check out the parkade!) and insanely, insanely expensive!

I picked a nice little Italian place right in the center of town and watched groups of old men play bocci while having dinner.

Now that I was full of lovely seafood pasta, I was tired and just wanted to get home. So, I put the top up and got on the A8 (see, not as dumb as I look) and hauled ass home. Sort of anyway. I ended up missing my damned exit THREE times. Grrr.

Strange Encounters

The oddest thing happened to me today. I was walking into the grocery store by my house after work and this guy ran up behind me, stuck his head in front of my face. I jumped back and took my iPod earphones out so I could hear him. He repeated a litany of noises that I assumed was some Asian language that I didn't understand. As I looked at him blankly and trying to come up with a Vietnamese response to this very Caucasian white guy, he repeated himself. Again! So, he finally clicks in and says, "Oh, you're not Japanese?" No shit sherlock. (For the record, I don't look anything like a Japanese girl!!!).

He then asks me what nationality I was. I gave him my standard response of "Canadian" which kind of threw him. At this point I had to do a small reality check to see if I was still in Vancouver. Check. When he finds out that I'm of Vietnamese descent he brilliantly pipes up with "I LOVE dim sum". That's great, so do I but it's not Vietnamese. Geez.

By this point his friend had caught up with us and so we stood in the aisle and chatted for a while. The friend had just moved from Calgary about a year ago while Mr. Asian was moving here in three weeks from Edmonton. Well, that explained a lot. Vancouverites simply aren't that friendly. Nor do they chase down any dark-haired woman and assume she's going to understand Japanese.

The great thing is his exit is as great as his entrance. To set the stage, I should mention that these two guys train people on how to pay off their debts & mortgages in half the time. As I'm about to leave, Mr. Asian says, "So if any of your friends have mortgages that they need help with, you should let us know". I walked away as his friend gave him a look of disbelief.

Nice vacation (get it?)

I was lucky enough to sneak a short trip to the French Riviera at the end of a business trip to the UK last week. Within a few hours I had decided that I need to live there so two things I needed to do. 1) Find a guy to buy me a fabulous villa and 2) let work know. Jaap, if you’re reading this, consider it a heads up!

Day One

I woke up VERY early (5am) to get my flight to Nice. This means that I had almost a full day on Thursday as I landed at 10am local time. After a smooth flight, I go to the Hertz counter to hear that they have a promo on convertibles that weekend! So, I picked up my AWESOME little red convertible and within an hour I’ve put a big scratch in it. In my defense, I am both an Asian and a woman driver.


After that shaky start, I finally get to the hotel to check in only to find the road blocked by about 150 old people. As in really, really old – and they just surrounded my car and kept staring at me. Like I was the one with Alzheimer’s and didn’t realize that I couldn’t drive on a damned road. I had purposely booked a hotel that was quieter and outside the city but this was ridiculous. For a second, I was tempted to do a little car bowling but finally managed to turn it around and parked way the hell down the road. After finally checking in and changing, I decided it was time to take that hot car for a drive.

I had purposely not bought any street maps of the area – just the general area one that came with my little guide book. I firmly believe that the key to a successful road trip is in not stressing about getting lost. I figured that I’d head in the general direction of Nice and see where the road led me.

It lead me through some crazy ass winding roads crowded with people and cars parked willy nilly. Having decided that I wasn't going to find any parking, I drove straight though (well, as straight as any European road allows) and followed a sign for the small village of Eze. One my way, I found a little place to pull over to take some great shots of Nice from above. Another two minutes down the road, I saw a sign for a restaurant called La Belle View. Sounded good to me so I pulled over and had an awesome fish lunch.

After paying 33 Euros(!), I got back in the car and drove towards Monacco. Monte Carlo is a beautiful, wealthy town. I parked at the Palace and wandered around for a few hours. Though beautiful, Monte Carlo reminds me of a smaller, slicker LA which is so not my scene. I quickly tired of the crowds and headed back to the car. On the way out, I had to drive under the castle - very cool! Kinda felt like driving out of the Bat Cave. However, I had the top of the car down and stuff kept dripping all over me. Ewww... I’m hoping it was nothing more than sea water but not going to look into it any further. Some things are not worth knowing.

The drive back to Nice took for flipping ever! By the time I got there, it was pretty late and all the stores had closed. I only stayed long enough to drop by a small little grocer for a couple pieces of fruit for my hotel room. When I was ready to pay, the owner answered his phone and talked and talked and talked. I had read enough to know that this was normal for France so I just stood and waited. Finally, the only other patron, a little old man who had been buzzing around getting three huge bags of potatoes and ten (!) eggplants spewed a ton of rapid French to the guy on the phone and then looked at me expectantly. Um, je ne parle pas Francais? Whatever the little man said, it got the guy off the phone and ringing in my purchases.

After getting back to my hotel around 8pm, I decided to take a short nap before dressing up for dinner – yes, my swanky hotel expected you to be dressed smartly which I took to mean that my jeans, tank top and flip flops were not going to work. The next thing I knew, it was 6am the next morning! I was still in my clothes, contacts in and all the lights on. Oops. Clearly I needed the rest though and I felt totally refreshed and excited about the day ahead.

To be continued...

Birth Control

I was just in my dumpy hotel lobby at the dumpy Holiday Inn in Guildford and saw a guy who was with 5 girls. All under the age of 10. All looked exactly like him. Poor bastard has got a rough life ahead of him.

Dating tips for clueless men

The "Hopeless Romantic" resurfaced the other day!!! By sending me spam (I was bcc'ed) with a link to "Z Day and the Zeitgeist Movie"! This guy is like a bad rash that just won't go away. Unbelievable that he would spam me more than eight months after I finally got rid of him. Even worse that he would send me something, not only dated but also with so much political and religious tones. It seems that this guy needs even more help than even I thought. Here's a list for you buddy - free of charge.

-Do not describe yourself as "hopeless" under any circumstances. No way to get out of that without looking like an ass.
-Do not EVER suggest to a woman under the age of 90 that she would be happier barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.
-Do not suggest that the second date be a mini-vacation. That just screams axe-murderer.
-Do not open the box labelled "Finished Business". Especially when that business was one "want-to-poke-my-eyes-out-cause-I'm-so-bored" date. That's four hours of my life I'm still bitter about not getting back.
-Do not spam anyone you are even remotely interested in (or anyone you haven't known for over two years) with political or religious emails/links/etc, regardless of how cool you may think it makes you sound. Hell, just don't spam people. Period.

Actually, while I'm on this dating rant...I have recently been dipping my toes (tentatively) back into the dating pool and man, it's even worse than I remember. The last three guys I've met have had some common themes. All are in their mid/late-30's. All hate their jobs or are in a time of "transition". ALL asked me if my company was hiring!!! None got second dates.

I guess I could add to my list. Here goes:
-Do not talk about things that depress you such as your job, life or family. Also, don't call me if you're that bloody unhappy with yourself in the first place! I'm not a freaking therapist and a coffee is not enough compensation to listen to you rant about your crap life. Get off your ass and do something about it instead of wasting my time.
-Do not ask me if EA is hiring. Do I look like a damn job board? If I had known I was going to be going to an interview instead of a date I wouldn't have put on heels. Jesus.
-Do not follow up a very boring dinner date with an email or text that includes any of the following words: eyes, smile, shines, stars or heaven. I will forward said email/text to friends and we will laugh our collective asses off. And no, you will STILL not get a second date. Dumbass.

Introducing Brandon

It's been a while since I've last written and much has happened. Most notably, there's a new addition to the Nguyen clan. Well, technically I guess it's the "Huskey" clan.

Beautiful Brandon joined us after a quick and harrowing 45 mins(!) on Dec 9th. He looks so much like his older brother Macen that it's absolutely uncanny. Here's hoping he has the same smart mouth that makes Mace just soooo fun!