Yelling Tinder.

Remember that time I tried Tinder and it failed horribly and I almost ended up the victim of a potential serial killer? Well that was Toronto, so I wondered what Tindering would be like in LA.

HOLY CRAP THE DUDES HERE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL.  And apparently all actors with profesh headshots.

HOLY CRAP THE DUDES HERE ARE BEAUTIFUL. And apparently all actors with profesh headshots.  Except for that fireman – that guy is TOTALLY a fireman…

I ended up meeting three people from Tinder within two weeks of using it.  Don’t give me that look – how else am I supposed to meet men as a socially awkward introvert in LA?  Also, tricking an American into a green card marriage has always been my Plan B, in case I can’t get a legal visa.  In the paraphrased words of Ke$ha, “It’s going down, I’m yelling Tinder! You better move, you better dance. Whoaaa ooohooohoohhhohh oh oh, whoaaaooo–” fuck that song is in my head now.

Anyways the first guy I met was Chris*, an army combat filmmaker.
* Names have not been changed to protect identities because, well, I’ve only got like 4 blog readers so it doesn’t really matter.
The army uniform made Chris look extra hot in his pictures.  ‘MERICUH!  FUCK YEAH!  But here’s the thing with Tinder – the description area is a 500 character abyss that the app simply calls “Description.”  There are no required fields or questions to fill in, such as “Zodiac Sign” or “Profession” or “Height.”  Given the nature of my high standards (read: I’m superficial), these requirements would be highly pertinent as to whether or not I’d want to meet someone in real life.  I’m 5’7″ and height is especially important.  So while Chris was hot within the confines of my phone, I was disappointed when he was only 5’9” in person; I’d be taller than him if I ever wore heels…

Girl PLEASE.
I know! It’s what’s on the inside that counts! It wasn’t so bad once we were sitting down though and I dutifully set aside my shallowness for some one on one conversation.

We met at a bar that that was screening Bend it like Beckham in the courtyard, and half an hour into the date there were definite red flags because I was more interested in watching Keira Knightley and Parminder Nagra play soccer than I was in listening to Chris talk.  And THEN I started thinking about that James Spader show The Blacklist, which Parminder Nagra now stars in. But what was she in BEFORE The Blacklist? An ER type show I think, I’m picturing her in some kind of surgeon scrubs…OH WAIT is Chris saying something important?  What?  He was a really nice guy and such a gentleman, but the conversation was unfortunately bland.

Tinder Dude #2 was also named Chris and also a filmmaker. (Yes my taste in men is that transparent).  Chris 2 was visiting from Australia and only here for another week, which in Tinder speak is “Let’s hook up while I’m on vacay!”  But he was out with friends and invited me to the iconic Roosevelt Hotel for Night Swim, a super-exclusive, super-Hollywood, super-try-hard-hipster pool party. So why not meet up with Chris 2, it was either that on a Tuesday night or eating pizza in bed watching TV.

I used my feminine wiles to get on the party’s super-elite guest list, which is to say I begged the front desk to let me in and they took pity on me because I looked sad and lonely.  Chris 2 was about 6’1″ and my first reaction to seeing him was “WHOA YOU LOOK LIKE TOM HARDY OMGZ HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT.”  He totally knew he was hot shit though and had girls all over him.  One modelly looking chick (in a sea of other modelly looking chicks) slinked over, sandwiched herself between us and said “Oh heyyy Chris right? *coyly bites lip* We met at Bret’s Fourth of July BBQ.”

Chris 2: Oh yeah, I remember you! Hey!
Hot Girl: Bret’s BBQ was so fun, he had the best tamales.
Chris 2: Bret’s tamales were definitely the best I’ve had in LA.
Hot GIrl: Yeah I ate like four of Bret’s tamales, so good!

Bitch I don’t give a fuck about Bret’s tamales!  Get the fuck outta here!  But she continued talking to Chris 2 and pretended not to notice my cut eye.

Hot Girl: And Bret was so nice too! OMG I fan-girled out and brought my book for him to sign. He was so flattered by it!

Hold up.  Hot Girl brought a book for Bret to sign?  BRET EASTON ELLIS, AUTHOR OF AMERICAN PSYCHO? Ok maybe now I cared more about these tamales of his.

But WTF who was this Chris 2 dude and how did he know the renowned writer of Less Than Zero and Glamorama?  He told me that his cousin, a fairly successful actress, was good friends with Bret.  I wasn’t savvy enough to get Chris 2’s last name for Google creep purposes, so I have no idea who his cousin might be, but I’m going to assume it’s Naomi Watts or Cate Blanchett.  Thanks Tinder, for putting me in a celebrity’s orbit.

After last call I said goodbye to Chris 2 at the bar knowing that I’d never see him again.  On to the next one!  Tinder Dude 3 was, surprise, another filmmaker. He was actually pretty cool and ended up a Facebook friend, so I will be decent enough not to write about him, except to say that he’s Italian and was only in town for the summer and couldn’t help me get a green card, so I knew from the start there was no point in trying to bag him as a husband. Maledizone! (Damn!)

It’s been about two months now and I haven’t met anyone else from Tinder, but I have gotten a few propositions, mostly dudes messaging me late at night with “r u horny.” To which I respond “bro y u so lame.”  Also, these dudes seemed ok:

I giggled at this guy's name.

Probiotic I hope.

Is Rob secretly Tom Cruise trolling Tinder in disguise?

Is Rob secretly Tom Cruise trolling Tinder in disguise?

I LOVE CHOW CHOWS SO MUCH!!  But Christopher knew I wanted to meet his chow chow more than I wanted to meet his penis.

I LOVE CHOW CHOWS SO MUCH!! But Christopher knew I wanted to meet his chow chow more than I wanted to meet his penis.

The hunt for a husband continues! Orrr maybe I should focus less on dating and more on getting the paperwork that my immigration lawyer keeps asking me for…

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It’s Canada Day, so I thought I’d celebrate by writing a blog post about how much I loved my first week in America.

My street in Hollywood is lined with the tallest palm trees and it totally feels like paradise, even when the cops show up at the apartment unit across from me because of a domestic disturbance.

Also, I’ve had so many celebrity sightings in such a short time, and by that I mean I saw Abed from Community at a coffee shop!  It happened when I met with my immigration lawyer; I had just ordered at the counter when Abed walked by and stopped to look at the menu.  Initially I wondered about the proper etiquette for approaching famous people, but then I realized FUCK ETIQUETTE IT’S A CELEBRITY!  So I approached him awkwardly and said “Hello-sorry-I’m-not-from-here-but-ARE-YOU-ABED-FROM-COMMUNITY?”  In my excitement I had forgotten his real name.  Danny Pudi seemed uncomfortable and answered “Yes…” before slowly backing away, so I mumbled that I was a big fan and kicked myself for being such a touristy douchebag.  My first chance to be BFFs with a celebrity and I blew it!

Anyways my lawyer and I ended up sitting at a table near him and I resisted the urge to stare.  He must’ve heard us talking about Canada though, because an hour later, as I got up to leave, he smiled at me and said “Welcome to LA!”  HOLY CRAP!! Guys, Danny Pudi is totes my BFF now such a nice guy!  Hollywood is amazing!

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Needless to say I hope I can stay here forever.  HAPPY CANADA DAY.

EDIT: It’s nearing the end of September and I have since seen a plethora of celebrities – Dave Franco at Sqirl (Silverlake), Michael Pena near the VIP Scientology Center, Shane West at Intelligentsia (Silverlake), and Jessica Szohr at the Roosevelt Hotel pool.  SO MANY A-LISTERS WHOA.

Star Struck.

Single Ladies.

Two days ago my coworker told me I should audition for The Bachelor Canada.

“Hah!” I replied, “What an outrageous idea!”

A few seconds later I was on www.bachelorcanada.ca, looking up the application process. And wouldn’t you know it, they just happened to be touring the country for an open casting call and the Toronto stop just happened to be this weekend. My coworker hadn’t known about this when she made the suggestion. Kismet!

Even more kismet – earlier that same day I had been out shopping and saw the most amazing dress at Urban Outfitters. I didn’t buy it because I had no occasion to wear it to, but now I did, since applicants were instructed to “Dress to impress! This could be the biggest blind date of your life.” Bachelor Canada open casting here I come!

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I filled out the questionnaire and tried my best to show the producers why I’d be the perfect candidate.

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And today, at 2 pm, despite the snowstorm and the -4 weather, I ventured out in heels and made my way to the Grand Hotel & Suites, where destiny was waiting for me.

I don’t know why but I was shaking as I approached the registration desk. There was more paperwork to sign and as I was Instagramming the following picture:

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I overhead the girls next to me say “Goals in life, how should I answer that? To be happy and fulfilled and to give grandchildren to my parents!” Uh oh. I had answered that question with “To edit Beyonce music videos.”

After the paperwork round I was ushered into a conference room where about 20 girls and women were waiting to be interviewed. “Dress to impress!” was obviously not a universal statement. Some women went super casual in jeans, camp socks and toques, while other women wore satin-y cocktail dresses from Le Chateau. There were club skanks and Aritzia princesses, there were Barbies and Gap girl-next-doors. There were, however, no other Asians in the room, so I knew my chances of being cast as “Token Asian” were definitely high.

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Pictures weren’t allowed so I tried to be sneaky.

The show was also auditioning for The Bachelor himself, that one lucky dude who would have 25 women vying for his affection. So I realized that somewhere in the hotel was a conference room full of eligible men…only where the fuck was it??? I tried to wander around discreetly but all I found was a bar mitzfah and some business function. Damnit.

I was called for my interview half an hour later and I’m pretty sure I nailed it. Well actually…now that I’m playing it back in my mind…I might not have nailed it buuut I did pretty good. Or…ok…let’s be honest I bombed horribly. I didn’t know that the interview would be taped and as soon as the camera started rolling my nerves took over and all I could spout was gibberish. I talked too quickly and even in the moment I knew that whoever had to edit my audition would hate me. One question was “What would your dream date be?” and I answered “My dream date would be Ryan Gosling! OMG have many people been saying Ryan Gosling too?” The interviewer replied “No one has said Ryan Gosling! Most people chose Paris or London…which is the kind of ‘date’ we were actually asking about…” Fuck!

I did however make the interviewer and camera guy laugh a lot, and was told twice that my dress was amazing. Whatevs, The Bachelor Canada! I don’t need you!

*cries and heaves uncontrollably*

Oh sorry, you’re still reading. Overall it was a fun experience, even though I’m not going to get a callback. Also, The Amazing Race Canada should be casting soon so….

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24 Hours.

Guys, brace yourselves – I’m about to live blog my 24 hour, 3 flight journey to the Philippines!

Hold on a sec while I calculate my actual travel time –
2 hrs at Pearson waiting to board (where I’m currently typing this on my iPhone)
12 hr flight to Taipei
4.5 hr layover
2 hr flight to Manila
2.5 hr layover
1.5 hr flight to Zamboanga

MOTHERFUCKER THAT’S 24.5 HOURS!

Hold on for another sec, my dad keeps talking to me. I’M BUSY TYPING ON MY IPHONE, DAD. NO I DON’T WANT AN ORANGE FROM THE AIRPORT CAFE, THANKS.

So many people on their iPads right now, totes jealz. There’re also a lot of cute old people sleeping; I took a picture of an old lady but I’m not sure how to upload it when updating through the WordPress app. Wait I think I figured it out; I’m such a good creeper.

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So cute!

Anyways my dad is still talking to me jeeeez! I will probably update again in Taipei; I know, you’ll all be holding your breath for it.

UPDATE 11:30 pm
Got up and went to the airport cafe. WHAT THE FUCK $9 FOR A TUNA SANDWICH?? I said this out loud and two passersby looked at me funny. STFU AIRPORT CAFE.

UPDATE 9:00 am Taipei
The Taipei airport is ridiculous! There are themed waiting areas (like Hello Kitty, an orchid garden, a traditional Taiwanese temple, a library, etc) and there’s a technology room with a bike video game and a treadmill. Also the food is crazy cheap; at “Great Taste Town” $7 got me wonton soup, braised pork belly, rice, edamame, pickled vegetables and iced tea.

I would’ve explored the airport more on this FIVE HOUR LAYOVER but I was dead tired from my 14 HOUR FLIGHT (I had thought it’d only be 12 hours). I tried to sleep but my head kept falling forward and waking me up. Blurgh.

This Hello Kitty plane just pulled up. I hope it’s mine!

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Sweaty Swag.

I’m not entirely sure what compelled me to do it – perhaps repeat viewings of Step Up 2: The Streets – but during summer I decided to sign up for hip hop dance class. The thing is I have absolutely no technical dance training (unless you count repeat viewings of Step Up 2: The Streets, or learning the Double Dream Hands choreography that went viral a few years back) so doing research for which studio to go to was intimidating.

For example, Street Dance Academy sounded super legit, but I was worried that everyone there would be so street that I would stick out like a sore thumb. Eventually my friend Michelle found a class called “Absolute Beginner Hip Hop” at a studio called City Dance Corps, which sounded perfect.  According to their website:

Improve your coordination, build confidence and get a great workout with Hip Hop. This class is designed for those with very little, or absolutely no experience in Hip Hop dance.

Attire: Loose, stretch clothing you can swag and sweat in.

I already had clothing that I could sweat in, but I definitely still needed clothing that I could swag in. My solution was to go to http://www.urban-planet.com, where the clothes literally had swag.

swag

Just kidding.  Clearly I’m too old for that shit and instead I opted for Walmart sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Going to my first class was terrifying, but Michelle was so full of swag she wasn’t even phased.

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I was relieved though when I walked into the studio and saw that the other people were a rag tag bunch of misfits – a tall jocky white dude, a smattering of Chinese exchange students, a gay black guy in short shorts and a hot chick in full out hobag make-up. This was the kind of group that seemed awkward at first glance but after rigorous dance training they could discover their hidden strengths and go on to win the most prestigious dance competition in the city. Yes I just described the plot to Step Up 2: The Streets. And also that Antonio Banderas/Rufio movie Take the Lead. And to some extent Save the Last Dance. I WANT MY LIFE TO BE AN UPLIFTING DANCE MOVIE, OK?

But damn, dancing is tiring and this bitch is out of shape. I was dying after the initial warm up and chugging water and sweating like a mofo. However, despite these challenges I was having tons of fun. I tried my best to follow along with the teacher and I thought I was doing fairly well. In fact, Michelle took a video of me dancing:

I WISH. I thought I was doing well but when I finally looked at myself in the mirror I realized that my body was not doing what I thought it was. In my mind I had pictured myself as Honey Daniels but actually I looked much more like this:

My arms and legs flailed horribly off beat; my body rolls and booty shaking could easily have been mistaken for epileptic seizures. The teacher also started using some unfamiliar dance terminology – Boom! Ta ta! And one and two. Boom! Ka-ka-ka, step and ta! Step and ta! The fuck?? Did I ta when I was supposed to have ka’ed? I was so confused!

So imagine my dread when, at the end of class, the teacher divided us into two groups. One group would perform while the OTHER GROUP WATCHED, and then we would switch. HELL TO THE NO.

…But I had already gotten this far and I’d look like the biggest douche if I left the class early, so I went ahead and did it. I flailed my Elaine Benes arms and danced the routine to the best of my ability. Yes I was super embarrassed but so what, the class had been fun and it was far more exercise than sitting at home streaming internet TV, which is what I would’ve been doing instead of dancing.

And when my turn ended, I watched the other group perform and realized that pretty much everyone else was an Elaine Benes too. I was so busy worrying about myself that I forgot I was in an absolute beginner class – as students we were all on the same level of suckiness. Lesson learned!  Even though Randy Jackson won’t be calling me anytime soon to appear on Randy Jackson Presents: America’s Best Dance Crew, the class was a great time and I think I’ll keep going. Maybe in a few years I’ll be a backup dancer on Honey 3, since there’s already a Honey 2. Keep a look out for me, it’ll probably go straight to DVD.

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No Catfish.

I don’t understand why some people are still hesitant about online dating – two years ago I actually met someone great on OkCupid and we ended up in a serious relationship.  Even though we parted ways after 15 months I still consider it an online dating success.  Sure you might come across the occasional pebble-toothed fugly who’s lying and using another person’s hot photos as their own, but if you’re savvy enough these fuglies are fairly easy to spot and avoid.

I’ve been out of the game for a while now but a few days ago I decided to give it another go, this time on Plenty of Fish (or POF for short) with a username that’s from The Mindy Project.

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YOLO is a good headline right?  Short and simple.  I was debating between that or WHO LET THE DOGS OUT or ‘BOUT TO GO H.A.M.  Anyways the following is my comprehensive “About Me” section:

Here’s what people are saying about beyonce_pad_thai:

“She’s cute and funny and all around awesome; if I was straight I’d totally date her!” – Gay Best Friend

“She seems nice, I guess. She comes here a lot though, and sometimes I find beer cans under her seat.” – Movie Theater Employee

“If you’re looking for someone who’s honest and kind, someone who’s creative and ambitious, someone who’s quirky and –- hold up, who am I supposed to be describing again?” – Helpful Coworker

“I totes regret breaking up with beyonce_pad_thai!” – High School Boyfriend

[Laughing] What did you do to your hair!!” – Mom

“LOLZ she’s always looking up pictures of us.” – Internet Cats

“We were on a flight with her from Buffalo to JFK; at baggage claim she awkwardly asked for a picture and we said yes, even though she clearly didn’t know our real names.” – MGMT

“Are you a shemale?” – dude on POF who thought I was a shemale

“WTF SHE COPIED MY PROFILE!!!” – dude on POF whose profile I sorta copied (but I was mostly copying the back cover of Tina Fey’s Bossypants)

So guys, you totally need to message me – I think the consensus is pretty obvious.

If all goes as planned, this profile will yield an amazing and funny man who understands my irreverent humor. This guy will read my profile and LOL hysterically and after he messages me we will live happily ever after, like the Katherine Heigl romantic comedy that my life was intended to be. Unfortunately, the reality is that I get messages like this one:

im just looking for ONE attractive cool girl that would wanna use me… as her toy. literally could JUST use my mouth if thats all you wanted… i do have a reallly big well you know…though… but if all you wanted to do was use my tongue that would be fine.. ANYTIME.. no questions… after work… gym, hot yoga, night out dancing, even after sleepin with someone…you could come over 5 mins later… put your leg up on the bed… tell me to go down and lick it all out… even hold it in my mouth til its all out so u can watch me eat it…

100%.. serious.. just between us.. you have full control.. i wouldnt be with anyone but you.. .and stops ANYTIME no drama….

please dont get mad or yell at me.. i liked you, and just thought I’d see if you were interested at all.. if not.. thats totally fine 🙂

Dude should’ve thrown in a few more ellipses if you ask me…maybe then…I would’ve considered…his proposition…

I also get a lot of one or two word messages like “hey” or “hello” or “sexiness what’s up” or “good mourning.” Good mourning to you too, sir. And some guys clearly don’t even read my profile, because they ask me if my YOLO headline is serious or not. But my favourite message so far has been the astute gentleman who wrote “hey hun, ur really beautiful, but i have to know r u a shemale?” I responded yes to his query and he never got back to me. Damn.

This honestly doesn’t look promising so far, and I might try OkCupid again in the future, but if I do end up on any POF dates I will probably let you know. Like this chick, who blogs about her Tinder dates and is HILARIOUS! Seriously, my hero – http://walkinsauce.tumblr.com.  Hmm, now I’m wondering if any dudes have blogged about me…brb I should probably try to google that.

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Part Two.

Sometimes I use this blog as an excuse to do things that would otherwise be embarrassing. For example, going to two psychics is usually ridiculous, but it’s totally valid in my instance since I only went with the intention of blogging about it.

And I ended that entry by saying that I should probably see one more psychic, so I should probably write a follow up and go through with it – that’s totally the only reason I went to another psychic today, so that I could share it with the 4-6 people who read this blog.

(You: Bitch please! Stop lying YOU’RE CRAZY.)

Ok! I just really wanted to find out about the future. And, to be fair, today I saw Kim, a woman who’s supposed to be the best psychic in Toronto. THE BEST! A few people have told me creepy stories about how her predictions have come true, and I wanted to see for myself if she was as legit as everyone said she was.

Step 1 of Being Legit: Being located inside a Cajun creole restaurant called Southern Accent. You can help yourself to some delish jambalaya and get your future read at the same time!

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Step 2 of Being Legit: Using Comic Sans.

Kim and I started by holding a deck of tarot cards together and closing our eyes. After a minute of reading my energy, Kim told me that my spirit animal is a mountain lion – I am a born leader and I live life with an intuitive balance of mind, body and spirit. Basically I’m tenacious and fierce.

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The squirrel and opossum also help guide me, but I’m too lazy to keep Photoshopping my face on animals so I’m just gonna keep going.

I have nothing to worry about in my future – I am going to be successful in my career and I am definitely not hexed. Kim also sensed that I had a creative hobby, so I mentioned that I like to write random shit on the side. She did a tarot spread about my writing and said that in the future my random shit is going to get published. Awesome!

In terms of love though, things aren’t looking good. Right now I should stay focused on my career, and my soul mate isn’t showing up until 2-3 years down the road. He’s going to have an R or M in his initials, which means that 2 years from now I will be going through all the R’s and M’s in the phonebook until I find his ass.

Until then I should probably stop going to psychics, 3 in 1 month is extreme regardless of my blogging excuse.  Or maybe I’ll just keep going to psychics but stop writing about it, so that ya’ll won’t know how crazy I actually am…wait what?

Ohhh Girl.

I don’t think I’ve ever done a real drunk post before. And by real I mean I am shitfaced drunk right now and there might be typos in this entry.

SOBER EDIT: In retrospect this was basically a drunk text, BUT TO THE WORLD.  The morning after I wrote this I made it private, but now I’ve made it public again.  I mean, why NOT let the world laugh at my drunken stupor?

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SOBER EDIT: DAMN that pillow was comfy!  

It is currently 2:03 am. I had about 3 shots of tequila and 3 shots of vodka, and 1 tall can of that Stiegl grapefrutie beer. Oh shit did you notice that I just typed “grapefrutie”? Ohhhhh girl.

I should probably stop now before I start sounding too silly. A real post tomorrow, I promise. But in the meantime, this is on repeat.

Btw my old journal is at [REDACTED]. I’m rereading it now. Whoa, a lot has changed since 5 years ago, and a lot has stayed the same – I still listen to a lot of Rod Stewart and Jagged Edge.

SOBER EDIT: Yeah that’s right, I redacted that shit!  I also deleted some emo shit – the first time I reread this post sober I felt like I was on a blogging walk of shame.

Isn’t it curious how the internet can keep track of your life throughout the years?

Oh shit, I’m sleepy. Goodnight.

SOBER RETROSPECTIVE: This was only mildly entertaining at best; the next time I write one of these I’m gonna have to get waaay more drunk.

Kristen Wig.

Six weeks ago I bleached my hair blonde as part of my ongoing OMG-I’M-30 crisis (or rather, Matt the Stylist bleached my hair blonde for $250).

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Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I’m obsessed with my hair.  Prior to being blonde, I got perms on a regular basis and took pride in how puffy and voluminous my hair was.

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Right??  The extent of its puffiness was to me what hair length was to Samson; in fact countless strangers commented on my amazing coiffure – cashiers at Value Village and The Beer Store, airport employees in Atlanta and LAX, random people in line at Starbucks and even homeless people on the street.  The ego boost I got from random compliments made me feel confident and invincible, but things were different back in February when I made the poor decision to go to Top Cuts for what was supposed to be a simple trim.  Instead I got the worst haircut of my life and walked out looking like Anne Hathaway in Les Miz, dreaming a dream that my fucking hair looked better.

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I was too traumatized at the time to take photos of my horribly ugly haircut, so this picture of Anne Hathaway combined with your imagination will have to suffice.  And, like Anne Hathaway, I cried hysterically and felt like it was the end of the world.  My beautiful, puffy perm was gone.  My hair was too short for another perm and too short for extensions.  Yep, it was so bad I considered extensions.  Then I realized…since I couldn’t get extensions, why not get a wig?

wigBoom.  Long hair in seconds.

Wearing a wig can be socially dangerous though.  One afternoon, sans wig, I went out jogging and ran into a friend.  Later that night, now wearing the wig and on my way home after last call, I ran into THAT SAME FRIEND and could not avoid a confrontation.  She was puzzled and said “You look different…” to which I responded “I’m-wearing-a-wig-bye” and awkwardly shuffled away.

The second time I wore it was with Caitlin (http://uglyawesome.com), when we went to brunch and spent the afternoon shopping at the Gap.  A tip for anyone who plans on wearing wigs: wearing a wig is like wearing 5 Canada Goose jackets ON YOUR HEAD.  So while Caitlin filled her arms with khakis and V-neck tees, I was sweating buckets and wiping my face down with khakis and V-neck tees, worried that the other Gap shoppers would notice the wig bangs matted to my forehead.

When I tell people that I once bought a wig because a bad haircut made me cry, they laugh and think I’m being sarcastic.  I’m glad I don’t need the wig anymore, because my hair is back to being amazing, but just in case I get another bad haircut it’s comforting to know that I’ve always got a backup.

Tinder Surprise.

I am not above telling people that I downloaded Tinder, a dating & hook up app similar to Grindr but for straight people.  According to its official website, “Tinder finds out who likes you nearby and connects you if you’re both interested.  Download for iPhone or Android.”

Initially it was really exciting; scrolling through pictures of dudes within 15 miles of my location was a fun way to kill time.  Where else but on Tinder would I meet a handsome man like Jesse?

tinderjesseSince Jesse was hot, I tapped on the green heart to indicate that I was interested in him.  But then Thad came along, who was sooo unattractive.  With Thad I tapped on the red X, to indicate that I thought he was ugly.  Not interested bro.

tinderthadTinder then notifies you if you have a match – that is, when both you and a guy tap the green heart for each other.  You can start messaging through the app but it’s up to you to carry on from there, whether you want to meet up in person or not.

I am not above telling people that I’ve messaged a few guys on Tinder and that I almost met up with someone.  Most messages don’t go beyond the following –

Guy: hey sexy. sup?

Me: nothin, u?

Guy: same, nothin. ur cute

But one guy, I’ll call him “Jim,” seemed really funny.  We exchanged numbers and texted each other outside of Tinder for about an hour.  He was cute, co-owned a family business and made me laugh, and suddenly I found myself thinking “Wow! I can see myself dating this guy!”  Eventually he asked me out and we planned for dinner on Saturday along with a walk around the harbourfront.  Wow!  What an easy way for me to get dates!

Jim: I’ll pick you up at 6

Me: Wait what?

Jim: In my car

Me: Wow! You have a car, how cool is that!

Jim: Where do you live?

And then it hit me – DID I JUST AGREE TO GET INTO A RANDOM STRANGER’S CAR?  WAS I ABOUT TO GIVE A RANDOM STRANGER MY ADDRESS?  Hell no!  I’ve watched enough Law & Order: SVU to figure out where this was going!  So I convinced Jim that we should just meet at the restaurant, and the next day he cancelled the date with some kind of lame excuse.  I totally dodged a bullet there.

After that I stopped messaging people on Tinder but continued to scroll through pictures.

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Archie had the smallest nipples I’d ever seen, Cordell was clearly AC Slater circa 1992 and I was hoping Antonio would offer me tickets to the gun show.

tinderaustin

AUSTIN DO YOU EVER WEAR SHIRTS?  And more importantly, I hope you’re wearing pants.

The funny thing is that Tinder is linked to Facebook, which means that the pictures these dudes have on their Tinder profiles are also on their Facebook profiles.  Don’t any of these dudes’ friends tell them that it’s weird to take so many shirtless selfies??  Come on!

Eventually I ended up deleting Tinder, because it became a mind-numbing sea of abs and underpants.  Real life is probably a better place to find a man anyways, instead of randomly through an app my phone.

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