Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I'll be a happy old lady goddammit.

A recent study shows that statistically, men get happier as they get older, whereas women get sadder... generally due to the satisfaction or dissatisfaction of goals relating to family and finances.

This doesn't surprise me, but it doesn't help to hear this spelled out in a "scientific" study.

So... basically I will be spending the rest of my life fighting these odds... just as I suspected since childhood.

F you effers and your Y-chromosomes. Time to go look at that fortune of mine...

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Sunday, July 27, 2008

P.S. I am an old lady

Three somewhat unremarkable things to note:
  1. I am over the office cutie.

    It was weird. I had a one-on-one meeting with him, and I was strangely unattracted. Maybe he needed more personality. Maybe hearing his voice from afar made him more alluring. Maybe it was that ring on his pinky finger. I don't like a guy who wears more jewelry than I do on a regular basis. Whatever it was, I just somehow wasn't lost in his eyes.

    It's just as well, as he is likely far too young and I live in that other distant country normally. But Toronto is running out of time (three weeks!) to seduce me back into its clutches after I graduate! Guess I'll have to find someone in NY or Cali after all...

  2. My B-boying career will have to wait.

    I had my second appointment with a trainer at the gym. As she was stretching one of my legs, I felt a shooting pain. I told her that I thought it was from the breakdancing class. So she said that maybe I should hold off on continuing that class until I build up my strength/flexibility more. Plus she said I should take a bath in some Epsom salt to ease my muscles. Probably wise advice.

    But I am sad and old.

  3. I don't care what you say, I love those dance competition shows!

    I can't believe Will was voted off So You Think You Can Dance. He's probably the best dancer on the show. And I already miss Gev. But I do like all of the remaining dancers on show, so the rest of this season is just going to be really upsetting every time they kick someone off.

    As for the judges, I love Nigel's classy British critiques, and Toni Basil is pretty rad too. But sometimes I want to strangle Mary and her spastic screams. And I love Cat Deeley's dresses and accessories. And I commend her on keeping her distinctively crooked nose.

    Also, America's Best Dance Crew is even making me sad as they kick off whole teams of sobbing b-boys and b-girls. Why can't they ALL WIN??? Waaah.

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Summer dresses are magic


lobster claw
Originally uploaded by Simon Goldenberg
Last night, Annabelle (the other toy design intern) and stopped at an outdoor patio bar for a drink. We got seated next to a table of musicians, who were taking a break from their performance. Then I saw the waiter carry an enormous platter of seafood to their table.

I wasn't even hungry. But that platter looked awesome!

So we kept chatting, sipping on our alcoholic beverages, when all of a sudden, the guitarist at the next table piped up and said, "Are you hungry? You should have some! It's good!"

How did he read my MIND!? I don't usually take food from strangers, but I saw this platter come from the kitchen, and I am not one to refuse free SEAFOOD. Also, when do students ever refuse free food?

Before we could answer, he handed Annabelle a LOBSTER claw and me a lobster leg. They even handed us the little lobster-crushing device. Annabelle said, "How do you do this?" She never had eaten lobster from the shell! I said, "Wow! Well you are in for a treat!" And I assisted her with the cracking, as we made a big mess all over the table. That felt very big-sister-y, which was fun.

The musicians kept trying to hand us food, like shrimp! But I stopped at the broccoli.

Later when they started performing again, they drunkenly sang a little Bee Gees ("How Deep is Your Love"). It made me miss my ol' karaoke-ing days in the U.S. Annabelle didn't recognize the song, because she was born in the '80s. I foolishly started informing her about John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever" and disco. And then I told her she should check out The Bird and the Bee's gorgeous cover of that song.



One of the bandmates at the table (who looked something like Will.i.am of BEP) was drumming on the napkin holder, subsequently sending a glass of beer smashing to the floor. He gave a brief look of "Oops!" and moved the rest of the beers away from the edge of the table as they continued playing.

Eventually the guitarist sang "Lady in Red" to embarrass me. (–Even though, as Annabelle noticed, my dress was actually orange.)

He made me promise to come back again the next night. We tried to tell him that we had JOBS to worry about, so we couldn't be out late on a Sunday. This didn't register, because the guitarist asked us if we smoked weed. He probably found the only two women in Toronto over 20 years old who had never smoked pot and weren't planning to smoke it anytime in the future.



As amusing as the band was, I probably won't make it back there again during my short stay here. As I told Annabelle, something about the whole evening reminded me of Paris, except it was the CN tower in the distance instead of the Eiffel Tower. It made me want to visit Paris again.

So if you're ever in Toronto, check out the Portuguese restaurant on Augusta St. in Kensington Market on a weekend night, and tell the old guitarist from Trinidad in the band that the lady in red says hello.

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Friday, July 25, 2008

B-boying with Canucks

Last Monday, I walked up the street from work and walked into a little dance studio, to take a beginner breakdancing class. I got there early, so I sat down and killed some time by crocheting, in my glasses and jeans.



People showed up in more elastic or loose clothes. Some of the others started stretching. Clearly, I wasn't prepared for this "beginner" class, with my big nerd glasses and jeans. To my relief, the class was very evenly split by gender. I love Toronto's diversity.

The instructor, who called himself "Dizzee," was exuding energy, because he just won a competition last weekend with one of the best Korean b-boy teams. Dizzee explained that real breakdancers call it "b-boying," not "breakdancing." He said he had been b-boying for about 14 years.

Dizzee was great, because he cared enough to talk a little bit about the history of breakdancing before we started learning any moves. He even explained how the different styles evolved from different regions. Brooklyn style has more poses, Queens demonstrates more poses, and the Latin influences added more fluidity to it. Today, he would teach us the Brooklyn style.

How great is it that I had to move from New York to Canada, to learn about a New York-based dance?



He started out pretty easy, with a basic side-to-side hop-step. He was pleased to see that the whole class was pretty good with rhythm. Then he had us throw in a drop to our knees on the last beat.

Then he actually taught us specific poses, explaining that b-boying was a lot about exuding confrontational confidence and stealing it from your b-boying opponent.

Pose #1: Picture the standard rapper pose, with the arms crossed, tilted head, and a laid-back furrowed brow or squinty eyes.

Pose #2: Stand with a wide stance and arms outstretched with the palms open. This is the more confrontational pose, as if to say, "So whatcha want!?" or "Bring it!"



Pose #3: Kneeling on one knee, with an arm loosely rested on the upper knee. It's propped up on one foot, not the ass, slightly upright but still relaxed. Like you just finished something and you're sayin. "That's right. I did that. And it was easy."

He said we should end every performance with one of these poses to make it look that much more powerful.

I am not the most competitive person, nor am I very confrontational. So maybe this was a good mental exercise for me. But mostly I was highly amused with the whole situation.

Then he basically taught us a basic shuffle, which is a lot like that Russian kick dance. Uh oh. I just saw an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance," in which Nigel (a judge) commented on how impressed he was when the dancers pulled off those difficult Russian dance kicks. But... these were very physically fit, trained dancers. So.... how am I supposed to pull off these shuffle-kick moves?



We did a few of these, propped up on our hands. Then we tried it with just one hand. Then we alternated hands. Never have I sweat so badly... in my life!

Then he taught us how to turn this shuffle, by shifting to face the floor, like a push-up, while crossing your legs to the beat. First to the left, then to the right.

The a/c wasn't very good, so by the second break, I was about to pass out. I foolishly had no water with me, but I did take a swig of root beer that I had with me. I realized that my whole shirt was soaked in sweat! You have to realize, that I don't sweat much. I probably break a sweat mayyyybe 10 days out of the year. So the soaked shirt was a little shocking. And the sweat was fogging up my glasses, like the nerd that I am.

Toward the end, he had us try freezes. Basically you position your elbows toward your stomach and balance your whole body off the ground, held up on just your hands... and maybe your forehead. This is tricky for us ladies, because the boobs get in the way, even if they aren't even that big!



Then he taught us to do freezes on our sides. I started to get the hang of this, but my wrists felt like they were going to break off, and I didn't feel like smashing my face into my glasses, so I stopped. Aaaand I am old and feeble. Dizzee was very encouraging, saying we all seemed to be getting it. He said he was impressed, because it took him forever to accomplish his first freeze.

And then to be nice, he taught us the easiest freeze, in which you roll backward and prop your back up with your arms in a semi-headstand. Phew, I could handle that!

Finally, he had us use everything we learned, by practicing it all from beginning to end, like a BATTLE. He split us up on two sides of the room. One side went through all the moves first, and then we took our turn. I was thankful, because that meant I had a few minutes to regain some semblance of strength.

I tried to ignore my fatigue and fumbled through all the moves, with my jeans falling off and probably exposing my underpants (like a real b-boy, right!?!?). But I did do it to the beat and ended with the "bring it" pose. We high-fived our opponents and ended class. I ran out to catch the streetcar home, where I promptly returned to crocheting, quietly beatboxing under my breath, as the b-boy beat remained in my head.

I was relieved and amazed that I made it to the end of class! And it was painful, but it was also a lot of fun! Of course, I felt like a cripple the next day and it hurt to take any stairs for the next three days. We'll see if my muscles recover in time for next Monday's class. If I go again, I'll drop the glasses. But I will still be the nerdiest b-girl ever.

Ducky image by cool_colonia4711
Kitty image from The Fuzzy Squid.
Rapper kid image by monitorpop
So You Think You Can Dance from Fox.com
Freeze image by Peter Tsai Photography

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Saturday, July 19, 2008

Finally!

It only took me about oh, twenty years to finally do it.

After getting a haircut this morning, I took a streetcar to run an errand. On the way over, I spotted the boutique. I took it as a sign, and stopped in to asked the salesclerk about the procedure and cost. She explained the process and the upkeep. I said I'd think about it. I left the shop, and it started to rain heavily. I came back to Claire's a minute later and said, "Okay, I'll do it."

I signed a surprisingly elaborate form, indicating my name, address, birthdate, and that I understood the procedure and risk of infection. The salesclerk took me to the special station to have a seat.

She showed me gold, white gold, cubic zirconia and a selection of birthstone studs. I chose my birthstone, which was a pretty light green. I pushed aside the Claire's-branded teddy bear in the chair and sat down. The salesclerk asked if I had ever fainted before, and I said "No. I've given blood before, so I think I'll be fine."



The salesclerk didn't even make fun of me for being old. She said she pierced a lot of adult ears who wanted additional holes. And one time, she even pretended to be Hannah Montana's cousin, at the request of a girl's mom, because that was the only way the girl would let someone pierce her (the girl's) ears! Now why would a mom want her daughter's ears to be pierced so badly –and even make someone lie to make it happen? That's some kind of crazy opposite-land I don't understand!

The salesclerk put the gloves on, marked my ears, and I approved the placement in the mirror. She got the gun out. I winced as she counted "1... 2... 3!" but it hardly hurt at all! Easy peasy. I was relieved... that I was happy to finally see leetle gems on my ears, which meant I didn't regret it. And soon I will be able to wear hoops and dangly earrings like I always wanted!




But the trouble has already started. I already ordered hoop earrings (shown above) from the fabulous Fred Flare, which I can't even wear for at least another six weeks! Really, they were the impetus for me to finally get my ears pierced... and later I'll finally be able to wear earrings made by my very talented friends at Joy O & Square Six!

Oh, btw this morning I got big, thick bangs cut, so I basically look like my olllllld-school self, circa 1986. (Cuz you know, I need more ways to look ridiculously young for my age.) Also, it just so happens that my supervisor is out of town for another week (working in China). So he's going to return and find a whole new-looking intern!

So, what next? Maybe I'll finally get that tattoo? Except I think that'll be slightly more painful.

I'll ponder that tomorrow as I crochet among a rainy field of Canadian hipsters at the Rogers' Picnic. There are a lot of tattoo parlors in that 'hood, I think. But I probably wouldn't do it until some crazy night of drinking, which really doesn't happen as much anymore for me. Well, there is that bachelorette party coming up in August...

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Monday, July 14, 2008

Not-so-deep thoughts

I just went to my first trainer session at the gym. Luckily she went pretty easy on me, given my history of disregard for the gym. She showed me some nifty ab crunch exercises that I like much better than sit-ups. But they still hurt.

Now I am contemplating an ice cream sandwich.

Other things I have been contemplating:
  • I'd rather buy new dresses and toys than buy an iPhone (which is precisely what I did last weekend). Oh yes, envy my new, awesomely cuddly Sasquatch, designed by the always amazing (and Canadian) Meomi:



  • Fine artists who make no effort to master their medium are rather irksome. (as witnessed at a recent art reception where someone made art out of her crap-tastic cellphone video. She admitted she didn't know how to use actual video equipment.)

  • The selection of men on Match.com makes me think I'd be much happier dying single.

  • The selection of men-in-my-building-elevator who-are-mostly-headed-to-the-gym makes me think maybe I don't want to die single... until I realize that most of them are gay.

  • Don't the folks at beautifulpeople.net (–a Canadian dating/social site for "beautiful people only," which I heard about from Canada's MTV) know how easy it is to fake their online beauty? Oh, maybe that's because these retards built the site to work on IE only, for punk-ass PC users. What is this, 1999?

  • Thank goodness Drew Barrymore realized she could do better than Justin Long, but I can totally understand her temporary lack of judgement. I'm sure she'll find her way back into love. (God I love that cheesy-ass song and movie!)



  • I watched this funny video blog (vlog?? blehgh), called Pot Psychology for the first time. It's an advice column that used to be in text. One of the questions they answered was "How much coke is too much?" One pothead answered, "There is never enough coke. That's why you don't start."

    This is the same reasoning for my ears not being pierced. There are never enough cute earrings.

    But my god, this pothead chick is the most stylish girl I have seen. I want all her clothes and accessories. This does not mean I will start smoking pot, but it may mean I will pierce my ears to rock big, gorgeous hoops like she does. And I really do need big bangs again.

  • Some may find this hard to believe, but I have never tried pot (unless you count the the second-hand pot smoke at various concerts). I never was inclined to, because I giggle way too much as it is, nothing really stresses me that badly (anymore), and I already have a tendency to laze about at home all day long. So the last thing I need is something that exacerbates this. I might die giggling.

    So basically, I am already a pothead, without the pot. If I needed to be on a drug, it would be speed. But coffee will have to do for now.

  • Why is the best women's magazine in Australia and only available to U.S. subscribers for over $100? I guess I'll have to subscribe to MissBehave for ten bucks instead.



  • I am having a pho lunch tomorrow with the office cutie... and about ten other coworkers. He joked about stinking up the office with Durian shakes.



    Later, I sent him and my supervisor this link to an awesome Transformers birthday cake. He replied (to all) that he would want a Transformers wedding cake someday. Holy crap, is he talking weddings already!? Whoa, there mister.

    This could be love.

    Unless he already has a fiancée. Which really just means I'll have to take her down with my newly gym-trained MUSCLES!



  • Pixar created yet another touching, adorable, and funny film with Wall-e. Don't get distracted by the fact that he looks like the "Short Circuit" robot or that Eva looks like a baby storm trooper. It is a really sweet love story... that also makes me feel guilty for making toys that will likely fill the landfills of the world. Sniff.




Photo of durian-avocado shake by foodie.jenius.

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Wednesday, July 09, 2008

B-Boys, Pink Yarn, and Cute Engineers

Sorry, I've been busy shopping, enjoying Canada Day weekend, free concerts (Ladytron at the Harbourfront Centre), free breakdance battle shows, knitting a cat-eared hat (for a second cousin), working on girly toys, visiting the gym, getting addicted to Scramble (Facebook's version of Boggle), buying scented dolls, and avoiding homework.

Also there's a ridiculously cute engineer at work. I have no idea how old he is, because he's Chinese, and you know how hard it is to tell with us Asians. I probably don't even register as a blip on his radar, because I am a lowly intern from New York.

I learned today, that he is a fan of Transformers. I was thinking I could leave a trail of Transformers to my desk. Except that would probably attract just about any male in the building. Basically, I am resorting to the tactics of a 9-year old, trying to lure an alien.

How about this plan? I was going to find some cute stationery and write the following:
Hey, I think you're cute.

Please check one of the following and return this note to me:

[] Are you high? I will burn this and pretend this never happened.
[] Aww, that's cute, but I'm gay. You can be my faghag though.
[] Let's not and say we did.
[] I don't think my girlfriend would like that. Please don't look at me anymore.
[] Well, that's cool, but I'm waiting to see if five other hot chicks are into me.
[] Aren't you an intern and moving to NY in about a month? Hmm, let's just be friends.
[] Aren't you an intern moving to NY in about a month? Sweet! Let's go dancin!
[] Hmm, aren't you old? Sorry, but you ain't no Demi Moore.
[] Well... let's just be friends until you graduate and I transfer to the L.A. office, and you get a job there to support me with your absurd double-Bachelor's degrees, while I rise to fame as the new hot Asian-Canadian actor, and then we can marry and have adorable little Chinese kids that the other celebs will want to adopt.
[] Uhh, I don't know if I like you yet. Wear a really hot dress and we can try dinner.
[] I am sports-obsessed and won't touch a karaoke room with a 10-foot pole, so really, it's not meant to be.
[] You're cute too! Let's go see Wall-e or something.
[] Who are you?

xoxo, the intern
Actually, I nearly did something like this with Keroppi paper, when I was ohhh, 20 years old. Except that one just said "I think you are cute." I ended up ditching that tactic and ended up calling the guy at the office to invite him to a movie. It turned out he liked me all along. A lot. I showed the note to him later, which he put in his pocket as he left our first date. We ended up dating for... 3 years!

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