I probably need an actual therapist

Have you ever met a Korean mother? Not the quirky-but-loveable version that Margaret Cho does impressions of. I'm talking--behind closed doors, [insert luxury car name] keys thrown on the counter, golf glove and visor peeled off revealing a fresh perm and/or tattooed eyebrows--Korean mother.

Messieurs et Mesdames: Ma Mère

In January, when I had just gotten to Seoul from Manila, my mom called to inform me that a very nice boy from a good family, "Harbard" grad, who is tall (all clearly essential qualities in a future mate, you see) was coming to Korea and I'm going on a blind date with him. No, not "do you want to," but "you are going on a date with him." I refused. What was she going to do to me? Skype me to death? To appease her, I told her the next time I'm in Chicago, she could set up the date.

I was just there at the end of August. My mom and her steel trap mind clung to my words for holy matrimony and set up the date. "Wear a dress and heels, do your hair and makeup, and if you're fat right now, lose some weight. You're going on your date." WHAT? Are you serious?? Straight from the airport, I was taken to dinner with him, my parents, his parents, and his aunt. Awkward.

The next day she tells me his parents thought I was oh-so-wonderful and they approve. However, the guy told his mom, who told my mom, who told me, (do see how this is immensely awkward and why moms should never meddle in their kids' love lives?) I seemed like I didn't want to be there and wasn't very interested when we had our alone-time after the meal. Perceptive, isn't he? Then my mom informs me she's giving them my email address so that he and I can start dating. Excuse me? What? I told her aside from everything else wrong with this picture, I live in SF and he's in Chicago. I do not do long distance. "Oh, that's ok. I found you a job here. I'll pay off the rest of your rent--you're moving back to Chicago."

I'm not even making any of this up. I wish I were. She called me to tell me another family "showed interest." I feel like I'm being auctioned off.

Ms. Natalie

"i think boys are like taxis. when they want to be in a committed relationship they put their light on and whoever flags them down first gets in and it's like "game on." and sometimes it's a long trip to an airport, and other times it's just going a few blocks b/c it's raining."

gentlemen, she also cooks: www.ommadelife.com

“Nobody knows what’s wrong with themselves. Everyone else can see it right away.” Mad Men

Honestly, the reason why I haven't updated this blog in such a long time is because I haven't had much to talk about. I'm in a state of self-imposed complacency and repressing thoughts of, "what the hell am I doing with my life right now?" My poor roommate gets the brunt of this melodrama. Sorry, Ez.

It's hard for me to even focus on what I'd like to write about. At first I was going to do a little diddy on how many sitcoms in the 80's featured mannies: Charles in Charge, Mr. Belvedere, Who's the Boss, ALF (you know that alien was taking care of the kids), Perfect Strangers (Balki Bartokomous was the equivalent of a 7 year old). But I think a list will suffice and needs no further explanation.

So now I digress onto what my friends and I have been wasting brains cells bitching about for far too long: this dreadful dating pool. Dreadful. Now, I understand that it takes two to tango, and I am not above admitting that I may be just as equally as dreadful to date. Please, if that's the case, do your fellow man a favor and tell me what is wrong with me so I can better myself. I am genuinely curious, so please share.

Here's been my experience with dating. I still need to test my theory out on an enlarged population size (gotta put my degree to use somehow) but for the most part, my analysis is as follows:

• East Coast: Cocky, full of themselves, jerks. But at least you know that and see it all from Day One. I've never had a guy be a jerk to me and then pull a 180 and sweep me off my feet. And vice versa--if they start out nice, they're gonna stay nice.
• Midwesterners: Bring one home to Mama. Just check your political parties and make sure you're on the same team (or agree to disagree) and you're good. These guys are unassuming, sweet, easy-going. Why am I on the West Coast, again?
• West Coast: Holy shit. WHAT is going on here??? I've been here three months and have already sworn off men (twice). They come off as nice and as genuine as Midwesterners but WTF, you flaketards?? Why are they so flakey?? Again, maybe I'm a terrible, wretched person to date. But I have never experienced so many undercover jerks in my life. If you're going to be an ass, at least own up to it and be one to my face. Oh, and don't bore me to death with your personality-less text messaging.

Bakesale Betty's.. again

On my second BSB visit, two amusing happenings: As I've mentioned, I dabble in the world of lingerie. I am working my way towards certification as a fit specialist. The other day a girl stopped in at our department and I spent some quality time with her. For those of you who have never been properly fitted for a bra, this means shirt off, I get to second base, and I find you the bras you need. I have already developed an awkward habit of staring at strangers' breasts and guessing measurements. Now, I'm sure this is going to start happening on the regular, but it was mildly uncomfortable when I bumped into this girl at BSB's. "Uh..  hi. I'm Nora. We met yesterday.. how are you..?" Bless her soul, she was friendly, we exchanged pleasantries, and we both went on our merry ways. I hope she's happy with my recommendations.

Part deux: Oh my word. BSB has a to-die-for strawberry shortcake that I can fall asleep face-first in. Diana, Romy, and I each picked up a fried chicken sandwich with a strawberry shortcake to share. Minutes after we sit down to our sandwiches, Father Christmas (aka, Derrick?) walks up to the row of outdoor ironing board tables (this place is awesome) and hands out strawberry shortcakes like they're condoms at a Pride Parade! (This weekend, can't wait! I love this city!) We went from sharing one shortcake to having four. What a day, what a meal.

Public Asian Announcement

I was all smiley this morning because on my way to work, three different people offered to give up their seats to strangers on the bus ride. This, in comparison to South Korean middle-aged men pushing me out of the way to get onto the bus first, was a very welcome change. Oh, San Francisco, how many ways do I love thee?

However, I would like to send out a general message. As you all know, I am vertically-challenged at the very Asian stature of 5'2". Ok, 5'1.5", but who's counting? As such, I do not enter into the sightline of most people above 5'7" (give or take). Please, look around you. Make sure you aren't trampling an Asian person. We, too, have personal space bubbles. And when you're gripping the handrail on the bus and your armpit just so happens to be face-level with us, it's very awkward--particularly on crowded morning commutes with lots of jostling and braking.

Thank you.

I'm with Coco

Hi, I'm NoRa from NoPa

Checklist:
Job: check
Fabulous apartment: check
Gorgeous kitchen: check--it's pretty awesome
Sunday brunch accessories (puppy and a crossword): crossword, check; puppy, might take awhile. for now i'll go with a plant
Vespa: i need to reassess this one. i can barely climb these hills on 4 wheels, let alone 2. 

Things have been moving along for this NKOTB. I was initiated into my first Bay to Breakers, have gained a few pounds at some great coffee shops and eateries (Ritual Coffee, Four Barrel, Chez Panisse (SO GOOD!!!), Bakesale Betty's, The Cheeseboard, Wally's, Café Aquarius), and I've successfully prolonged my SF stay for at least 5 more months. What can I say? Apparently I live my life in 5-month increments.

Job sitch: Unfortunately I don't yet have my dream job. However, I have a job. I bless the rains down in South San Francisco. FYI, if you are in need of lingerie, I'm your woman.

Apartment: Craigslist has done me well this time around. I found myself a little haven in NoPa, home of the Full House houses (aka Painted Ladies), indie bands at the Independent, and MOI! The original plan was to get a little shoebox studio to myself and live in isolation. However, no big job, no big money, no big (little) apartment. Oh well, punches, I'm rolling. I'm sharing the 2-level 4 bed/2ba house with some très cool people. There's even a little nook for guests! (You know who you are, you all better start looking for flights!)

Did I mention I'm happy? Very.