Wednesday, November 30, 2005

My favorite picture of me

Inspired by Beth.

I love this picture of me. My face is what it is -- no makeup, no questioning, no fear; my hair isn't washed or even combed properly; I'm wearing a $5 thrift-store t-shirt. I remember when it was taken. I was at a hungover Sunday brunch with D. and M., and was clowning around for the camera, posing like a supermodel (much to the delight of D. and to the embarrassment of M.); at the instant D. took this shot, I relaxed and started laughing at how silly I was being. This is me, purely me.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Frowny Day

Am having a frowny kind of day. I'm having a fight with a good friend of mine. I feel empty.

Friday, November 25, 2005


Julia, you'll love my new Andy Warhol calendar for 2006:

Found it at the MOMA gift shop this afternoon after wandering with my mom through some fabulous art (in an attempt to walk off Thanksgiving dinner). The highlight was the Chuck Close self-portraits (to me, they hit the crossroad between utter narcissism, utter obsession, and utter insecurity, three key ingredients to sublime artwork), though I fear I may have nightmares tonight about the 38-year evolution of his face. An amazingly brilliant exhibition of an artist's process, something that most of us rarely get to see (let alone, understand) so upclose, so detailed, so vulnerable. So exposed. It's a place that so few of us can even fathom.

Happy Day After Thanksgiving!

For those of you in the States, I hope you had a lovely, food-filled, drink-filled, love-filled day! And to those of you outside of the States, I'll make a wish on the wishbone for you. My neighbors in my building and I held a dinner last night, complete with two turkeys, five pies, homemade truffles (made specially by me), copious amounts of wine, and way too many side dishes for words...Truly, I am forever blessed by all of the beautiful friends I have, my makeshift family, and by this wonderful place I call home.

Now, only 364 more days until we do it all again! (Here's hoping I make it to the gym a few extra times to work off that dinner.)

Image courtesy of here.

Monday, November 21, 2005


Is there anything more exciting (well, almost anything more exciting) than finding a big box from Sephora on your doorstep when you get home?

Here's what I got. My Bare Escentuals Get Started Kit! Complete with a how-to DVD. Hours of evening fun!

And now for the blogger's review: The DVD was kind of cheesy! But still, it served its purpose. I finally know how to put the stuff on. It's all about, swirl, tap, buff! And my skin looks pretty damn good (this without even properly washing it beforehand). And it feels pretty damn good as well. Everyone I know who uses it says that once you figure it out, it gives you a good airbrushed look, as if you're walking around in perfect lighting all of the time (dare to dream of a world filled with perfect lighting!) but as if you don't have any makeup on. Lovely, sheer, light. I highly recommend it.

Who knew?

Creepy, crawly things that make us cower in the night. There is no fear of commitment.

The other day, my friend L got spooked after seeing a spider in the halls at work. This, as we all know, is arachnophobia. After reassuring L that we weren't about to be attacked by a swarm (herd? flock? fleet?) of spiders, we got to chatting about fears and phobias. I used to have a fear of eyes (ommatophobia) but I got contacts this past year in an attempt to get over it. After awhile (it was a dull day at work) L and I zipped over to the Phobia List for some research.

To our shock and surprise, we found there is no fear of commitment. Hmmm. No fear of commitment. How odd. What's that say about my life?

Thursday, November 17, 2005


I know I've talked about this before. But, really, I think it deserves a second posting. It's revolution time, dammit!

Seriously, I'm walking back from getting my coffee and quiche this morning, and I spot these two guys. One of them looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks; he's wearing this dirty t-shirt (it's turned inside out) and a pair of crusty jeans (one leg is cuffed and the other is dragging on the ground) and battered flip flops. The other is wearing a holey sweatshirt; his hair is hanging in his eyes; he appears to have no butt as his jeans are so baggy; I'm too afraid to look at his feet.

Men, I'm speaking to you (well, if any of you actually read this blog)! IT'S TIME TO DRESS LIKE REAL MEN!!!!!!!!!! NO WOMAN WILL SLEEP WITH YOU IF YOU KEEP THIS UP!!!! (Okay, sadly, plenty of women will sleep with you, but not this woman. I'm not THAT desperate...not yet, anyway.)

Here, I'll help:

For an everyday look, throw on a turtleneck and tailored pants like these from Valentino.

Need to dress up? No problem. Try this suit, also from Valentino.
And if you get really desperate, just throw on this undershirt and matching briefs from Gucci. Trust us, we won't complain (well, not if you look like this!)

Everything from

Monday, November 14, 2005

My confession...

I'm not a particularly sentimental person. I don't gush over babies, and I don't get weepy at weddings. I don't like parades or Mitch Albom books. I tend to ignore most major holidays.

But (you knew there's a but; there's always a but)...

There's this radio station here in San Francisco that has started to play continuous Christmas music. And I've been listening to it non-stop, dancing around my apartment and harmonizing with folks like Johnny Mathis, John Lennon, Anne Murray, and even Celine Dion. Don't hate me, okay?

(Image from Peanuts Christmas Graphics)

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Secret Single Behavior

One of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City is The Good Fight. Carrie and Aiden move in together, and over brunch, the girls reveal their "SSB," their Secret Single Behavior, the things they'd never do in front of their boyfriends.

So, what's mine? I like to order in delivery and eat it in a bubble bath surrounded by candles while watching a movie on my laptop computer. It feels so decadent, so luxurious, so much of a guilty pleasure.

Well, what's yours? Tell me about your SSB.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Here's to Kate!

Imagine the joy when I opened the mailbox last night to find this month's Vanity Fair with one Kate Moss gracing the cover. I can't wait to read it!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

More Findings From Spring 2006!

I love this Dolce & Gabanna Dress -- such flair and gorgeous detailing!

The question isn't where would I wear this knockout Alessandro Dell'Acqua dress, but where wouldn't I be able to wear it?

How about this black number from Chloe?

You know I love Jean Paul Gaultier! Love this.

Another one from Chloe. Not sure who can pull off a mustard coat, but I LOVE the cut of it!

Everything from!

Monday, November 07, 2005

A Night In The Life Of The Single Gal

Has it really come to this? Singles' Events. Yes, you too can pay a small fee to go to a location (that ordinarily would be free) to hang out with other desperate singles and sip mediocre samples of mediocre wine.

The backstory: A few weeks ago, I befriended a gal at the dog park. L is a single gal, and I was thrilled to find another fun, smart, pretty, adventurous, independent single gal living just a few blocks away from me (you mean I'm really not the only one left????) After a few casual chit chats, we decided, a bit reluctantly, to go to a singles' wine tasting event at a bar in North Beach. We were joined by our fellow sister to the singlehood, C, and this guy...well...let me tell you about him.

The guy who's offered to give us a ride is Angry Man personified. In an instant, I know why this guy is single. The guy has a new car, and he simply can't stop bragging about it (Dude, it's a VOLKSWAGEN for gawd's sake. Get over it. Nobody's impressed.) and he furthermore can't stop overaccelerating and weaving in and out of traffic. But the worst, the absolute worst, is that when we're leaving L's apartment, this little old lady (I mean, little old lady, complete with cane and osteoporosis) is walking behind us, and he's backing up and almost hits her. Well, she gives a big whack! to the back of his car (deservedly so; I damn hate it when cars almost hit me) and Angry Man gets out of his car and starts (are you waiting for this impressive moment in the history of singledom?) yelling at this little old lady!

Let's say it again: He starts yelling at this little old lady! Like to the point that we all think he's going to start beating her up (well, I'm pretty sure that she could have taken him down; the guy's driving a VOLKSWAGEN, afterall).

We ladies strapped in the car are at first stunned; then we exchange disbelieving, horrified looks; and finally we all frantically attempt to get out of his car (which, because it's a "NEW CAR!" is surprisingly impossible to get out of). C finally coaxes -- or should I say, Begs? -- him back into the car, and we're off for our ride of terror. (An aside for those of you in the San Francisco know: why would anyone feel the need to drive to North Beach when you can just take the bus? or a cab?)

So we finally get to the event, ditch Angry Man, and...well...I'm not sure how to say this without sounding like a total shallow politically-incorrect bitch. Okay, in this visually surreal moment in the life of being me, I am instantly aware that almost all of the men at the event are short. Not just below average short (you know, a good 5'8" or so) but really super short. I'm talking 5'0" and under. And oddly, most of the women are tall. We're talking 5'7" and up. I'm 5'10" and I must say that it's the oddest image to be in a sea of single Amazonian women and a tidepool of single male Munchkins newly escaped from Munchkinland. (Note to self: Reason #4859 to get a camera phone; we welcome you to Munchkinland. You really had to see it for yourself.)

But that's not the real problem. I can date a short guy, no problem. But. First off, there are about 5 women for every 1 man. And the guys are just losers. The men appear to have no social skills (in spite of the odds clearly being stacked in their favor -- you know, at 5:1 they should all be taking home a little hottie, or maybe two) as they're huddled in clusters with their friends, clutching their wine samples, and barely able to come up with complete sentences to exchange with the ladies.

Highlights of the evening:

  • C says to me, Those two guys behind you are totally checking out your ass. I subversively tilt my head sideways, spot the shorties, and say, Well, of course they're checking out my ass; it's right at their eye level. (You think I'm exaggerating about this; I promise you, I'm not. Eye level ass.)
  • Flirting with the only truly interesting men there, the Australian wine guys who are sponsoring the event. They're both married, but at least they can formulate coherent thoughts. They inform me that when I go to Australia in March I'll be getting laid every day if I want. I'm not sure I believe this, but we can ask Julia and Jules for conformation.
  • Taking my antibiotics with cheap champagne (I don't recommend this to anyone, but when there's no water around, sometimes it's the only thing a gal can do).
  • Chocolate mini brownies. You take what you can get at a singles event.
After awhile, we're bored. We're running out of our drink tickets and running out of patience. But then I spot a herd of seemingly normal men. I make my move. It's a trio of foreigners, who at first claim to be from the Ukraine, and then claim to be from Israel. Or so it sounded above the din of bad dance music blaring overhead. Whatever. They have accents and can stare me in the eye. After twenty minutes of blab blab blab, Man One and Man Two slip away, leaving me with Man Three. Of course, he's the one of the three who can barely hold the conversation, and so after a few minutes, I ditch Man Three go in search of Man One, who appears to be the most interesting of the trio.

Mistake? You be the judge.

Within ten minutes, the Man One has revealed the following key points:

  1. It is two days short of being 4 months since he has had sex;
  2. He is incredibly horny;
  3. Man Three likes me too. Man One thinks this could be a problem;
  4. He typically only has sex with a woman 2-6 times;
  5. He's lucky if his relationships last 6 weeks.

Am I the only one out there who thinks this is a bit odd? And again, a clear indicator of why this guy is single? But since he's, sadly, the best guy at the event, and I'm feeling a bit frustrated and horny myself, we exchange e-mails. I figure that he can always be my "Get Out of Celibacy Free" card should the need arise.

Me and my gals decide to ditch the party to find some tasty Italian cuisine (replace romance void with carbs) and as we're leaving, I spot my Israeli-Ukranian suitor and his friends out front. I toss him a casual wave, and he completely and entirely ignores me. Er, okay. You freak. Next.

Replace romantic void with carbs. Check.

Oddly, within 24 hours, he's sent me an e-mail. Why is it always the creepy ones who are capable of follow through and never the not-so-creepy ones? Maybe I really should be off to see a wizard.

Think I'll store that Get Out of Celibacy Free card in my back pocket for another evening!

Friday, November 04, 2005

Oh, me likey!

While cruising, checking out the spring lines, I came upon this hot little number from Narcisso Rodriguez. Can you hear me say, sigh?

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Fashion Fantasizing

This Etro bag is the perfect blend of classy funk!

I love the simple elegance of this Derek Lam tea dress.

I know Julia will love this Chloe look!

This Judith Leiber bag makes me sigh.

This Jean Paul Gaultier trench and skinny jeans is perfect for shopping!

Shoes! Like these Christian Lacroix,

Or these Christian Louboutins (sex on your feet).

I love these Oscar de la Renta pumps.

Who'd say "no" to these Manolos?

All fashion fantasies courtesy of Neiman Marcus!

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

The only thing I can say today is....