Typical text conversation

7 06 2007

And the 200th entry. I had something much more … meaningful to put there — but I just started thinking way too hard about it. And then it wasn’t fun to write anymore.

Me: i be cookin da beefs
Boyfriend: Dang yo.
Me: saltin da beefs yo
Boyfriend: Just got home yo
Me: Homie’s homey yo?
Boyfriend: Yeah yo!
Me: Yo, yo. That’s a lot of yo’s. Yo
Boyfriend: Yo I new ud say dat yo. I play with yo-yos yo.
Me: I can’t top that yo.
Boyfriend: Yeah yo

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Boyfriend’s appetite

3 05 2007

When at a party, it’s typical for my family and I to consume obscene amounts of food. We become gluttons, and embrace our penchant for gluttony. We clear our refrigerators, stores of food, food that isn’t even party food. Our menu almost never changes either. We use the grill year round.

Enter boyfriend. Tagging along is boyfriend’s appetite. It’s very cute and tiny. He consumes a ‘normal’ amount with those predetermined and suggested ‘normal sized portions’ that my family seems to have never heard of before. At a recent get-together, we observed that the amount he puts away in one party day is the amount I or one of my cousins puts away in about 15 minutes.  Portion of meat equals the size of a deck of cards? Give us an economy sized crate of card decks! One cup of fruit? Give us 10. We will eat till out pants no longer button. We will eat till we pass out.

Boyfriend doesn’t do that. So, we accept that the 6 foot 4 guy will consume roughly less than half of what his 5 foot 5 girlfriend eats.





What sells a relationship?

20 03 2007

Given the industry that I work in (Internet/Interactive), I probably spend much more time perusing my ‘blog stats’ more than the average WordPress user.

I’ve noticed the blatantly obvious fact that if you include a series entitled ‘Sex’ somewhere in the blog — it’s going to get you noticed. Especially if you have some sort of thought-provoking or laughter-inducing posts like my suggestive advertising ones. For some time, I was on the first page for Google for the search term (keyword, for all those in the know) ‘suggestive advertising’ and ‘sex sells’.

So, sex sells for working a highly searched term into one’s blog in order to get traffic… Obviously my angle for this blog has been altered slightly, and instead of talking about sex … I’m talking relationships. Like every other post. I’m getting a bit sick of it… but nevertheless, here’s my newest question.

Physical attraction. Usually what starts a relationship, right? You kind of have to want to kiss the person you start a relationship with. Thus delineating the borders between friends and friends with benefits. Or fuckbuddy and acquaintance. Okay, so maybe kissing wasn’t a good example. What about wanting to be sans clothing with this other person?

So then, what defines moving from a friendship to a relationship? Personally, there was the proof of the guy wanting to protect me. Even when it’s something so banal as seemingly protecting me from his over-friendly yellow Lab (hey, it worked. Neither of us are complaining).

What sold you onto a relationship?





Can’t say sweet nothings when you’re mostly asleep.

19 03 2007

‘A day is a day, alone or apart. You have my heart…

did you just fart?’





Again with the Nice Guy debate

12 03 2007

I want to kill the original poster (meaning the guy who wrote the blog post). But here are the rest of the reddit comments.

Some choice excerpts:

Women are turned off by the nice guy. While most healthy women don’t want someone who is going to be mean to them, there’s a difference between being kind and being a disgusting wussy.

Being super nice can kill attraction in seconds. Attraction is based on a push/pull. A bit of teasing. Show the girl that you are willing to lose her. Make her take responsibility for her half of the interaction. She wants to be challenged!

Instead, the nice guy wears insecurity on his sleeve without knowing it. He sees it as a badge of honor for why he doesn’t succeed with women. He clings to it to cover the pain of failure.

It’s good to be nice to women. But hoping that meekness will attract women is a fallacy. Niceness on this magnitude is read by women as overcompensation for not having balls. It is overcompensation for not being willing to take true risks.

Pickup artists are absolutely clueless. About relationships. They’ve perfected the player aspect, but nothing else. These ‘men’ are just little boys who love to play games and who need to learn to grow up.





Pet names

9 03 2007

Kitten, kitty… okay. Small and cute.

Baby, honey, babe… okay. Endearing. Generically endearing.

Introducing Pengie. Like penguin. Not as cute. Not as endearing sounding. But it works for me.

At least he didn’t stick with “dolphin”. As intelligent as the animal may be, I didn’t exactly take too well to him saying “you look just like a dolphin”.





Ice Cream in January

6 02 2007

Wait. But it’s February. I guess this time thing is moving faster than I can keep up with it. I’m a very slow runner, which makes me wonder how I ever survived playing rugby. But that’s a completely different thought.

My anachronism aside… there’s also the other part of this title to consider. Ice Cream. I totally scream for it. But what’s so amazing about it in the middle of winter?

Let’s see… ice cream in the summer. It’s more socially acceptable to get your hands and face sticky with melty sweet stuff. I haven’t looked like that eating ice cream for at least two decades. I was a mess and germophobe back then, although I doubt you could tell from the state of my room lately. Ice cream offers a sweet and cool respite from the summer heat. If you’re like me, and have an August birthday – you know how brutal those summer dog days can be. Ironic, I’m a Leo… and I’m born in the year of the Dog. Sweet irony. No wonder I’m under mental stress so often. One side of my brain is constantly chasing after the other.

But I digress. I just wanted to post about the fact that the guy and I went out on an errand, and in the midst of errands, we ended up in front of a Carvel and had ice cream cones.

It was cool refreshment in the baking heat of my car and the bright sunlight – if you close your eyes, you can certainly imagine it’s summer, except I’m wearing far more layers.

He had the sticky chocolately mustache – not I.