I understand this study completely.

Title: Missed connections: seen but not spoken to: an atlas of where we're (almost) finding love

Author(s): Dorothy Gambrell

Source: Psychology Today: 46.1 (January-February 2013): p112.

I keep harassing my friend, Matt, to please develop my idea for an app: Facebook meets Missed Connections. Let's say you spy a hottie at, oh.. I don't know.. an airport, bus stop, on a cable car, at a coffee shop, airport again*,  but you didn't get a chance to lurk on them for their phone number? Enter in the date/location/etc. and if that other person is looking for you as well, my magical app would generate a list of potential individuals. All you have to do is send an awkward message. "Hi, um.. Any chance that you were on a flight to Pittsburgh..."

*true stories.

The most spinsterish post thus far.

The other day my shrink remarked upon how my life is basically a sitcom. Evidently Catherine is onto something. He said this after I told him how I was plotting to adopt a dog in secrecy and hide the poor thing in my room. According to the lease, we are not allowed to have pets, so I'm fairly certain my roommates would make me give Toby back. If I were home right now I would take a picture of the green collar (complete with "Toby" and my phone number), and upload it to this post as proof of my neuroticism. (Not that you need it, you can just click through these posts.) He was also pointing to the fact that my roommates are married, and that's apparently atypical. I suppose so. But it's nice to have people around, and the rental market in SF right now is really offensive.

However, I am noticing that I am increasingly surrounded by couples. In fact, at the moment all of my friends that I see regularly are coupled up, and that leaves me the odd nth wheel. There was a party that I went to awhile back where I found myself seated at a table, couples to my left, right, and straight ahead, discussing my singledom. "Don't you want to get married? Are your parents divorced? Are you picky?" I'm not sure about that last one. I suppose if "picky" means that you are waiting to meet someone who is compatible with you on various levels, then yes. The new rule that I recently added is that they better be within a 10-mile radius. I am putting blinders and earmuffs on to anyone who lives beyond that.

Anyway, despite the fact that articles from The Atlantic make me wonder why I'm so bad at life (It's not too early to talk about freezing your eggs, The high price of being single in America, Why women still can't have it all), I keep forgetting about my boycott and scroll through them. This recent one wasn't actually too horrific. At least the author considers Edith the most entertaining: Why is this season of 'Downton Abbey' so boring? Everyone's married now.

"I'm also tempted to make old maidish middle sister Edith my new Downton Abbey heroine, particularly as she is in the process of transforming herself into an opinionated lady writer for the Downton Town Crier, or some such publication. Acquitting herself admirably after being jilted at the altar, Edith may have had the line of the season when she declared, "Spinsters get up for breakfast.""

Finally, my niece's first birthday approaches. I'm forever thankful that this little lady was born on Valentine's Day because she will always be my go-to date when I am otherwise unoccupied.

Where the hell do you find a bathing suit?

When you haven't been anticipating the need to get beach-body ready, the prospect of running around 95% naked is a little.. unnerving. I had to rummage through my drawers a little, but I found every bathing suit or bikini that I've had since high school, including a Speedo that no one above the age of 9 should attempt to wear. When did I think I was going to be a competitive swimmer?

The problem is that in the last couple of years, my child-bearing hips have been eagerly anticipating birthing something. I almost want to have x-rays taken of my hips to make sure there isn't something amiss. Are you supposed to have your hips protrude out twice? And thank you, Google, for I now know what a "saddlebag" is. I wish my birth control would tell them that they don't need to do that, so please hold off for, oh.. 5 years?

Anyway, I’m kind of lost on where to get a new one, how not to spend $100 (Have they gotten more expensive?! Why do I not remember them being so pricey?), and what shape to even buy. I want something that covers, so maybe this?

Wholesome Wear

I showed these to Karen who told me, "if a man still wants to see you after you wear one of those, he's the guy for you." Sounds like a win-win situation to me.

My Mother again.

For starters, I've changed the title of this blog. My intent was to redesign it as well and do a whole big Tada! but.. meh.

The reason for the change is that for the past year, I've been lying. I have been seeing a therapist, and praise Allah, he's fantastic. If you have ever wondered about what it might be like, go find one, spill your beans, and let the magic happen.

The other reason for the change is that the more I discuss my life happenings with friends, the more we are convinced that my life is Made-for-TV. And because I cannot explain how and why am I such a mess, I'm just going blame it on my Koreanness, and that my people have a penchant for the dramatics.

Case in point: the New Year's phone call from my mother:

Mom: Good morning, Yuree. Happy New Year!
Me: Hi umma, Happy New Year!
Mom: Hm, I'm sorry you woke up alone. You must be lonely.
Me: ...
Mom: Don't worry, good things will happen this year.
Me: Yes, I'm sure they will. I'm gonna go now.
Mom: Okay, byeee! I lub you.

Day 6 of my eight-day Chicago stay.

This was my first trip in ten years to celebrate Thanksgiving at home, and any intent to steer clear of gluten or dairy was promptly set aside the minute I set foot in the city. Oh well.

As I'm sure you've all noticed with your parents or relatives, mine have adopted some interesting behaviors since the house emptied out.

For example, in the shower is a bottle of shampoo from Pantene's Relaxed & Natural line, which "gently cleanses African-American hair without over-drying." My guess is that my Dad picked that one up. I call him the Enabler because he allows my Mom to get away with some very pampered behavior.  Earlier this evening she was laying in bed and her cell phone rang. Did she stir? Of course not. My Dad stopped doing the dishes, ran with her purse from the kitchen to their bedroom, and handed it to her.

Speaking of phones ringing, my parents have installed phones in the kitchen, living room, their bedroom, and one in the family room. (My house is not big). While they have figured out how to turn up the phones to full volume, they have yet to sync up the ringtones. So despite the abundance of phones around the house, absolute chaos ensues anytime someone calls because four different songs are playing at full blast until someone answers the phone.

I am just also amazed by the quantity of food in this house. Twenty minutes and two exasperated outbursts from yours truly later, I was finally able to Tetris in a bottle of orange juice, two packages of Brussels sprouts, and a half gallon of milk. I took a picture of the inside of the refrigerator to show you how much food my Mom keeps for a household of two people. Keep in mind that they have another refrigerator just for their kimchi.

Suburbia scares me.

Who gives a shit where (politician/actor/sportsball player) put his dong*, and why is it taking over national headlines? That is all.

*unless that would be in or around a minor, or other related heinous offenses. In those instances, castration is one solution that I think is quite appropriate.

Koreans are scary.

I rarely watch scary movies because I'm one of those individuals who replays images in their heads, re-scares themselves, and then ducks under the covers to hide (which only makes it worse, btw). Nonetheless, for Halloween, my roommate and I watched a CREEPY Korean movie called A Tale of Two Sisters. Why are my people so good at making messed up movies?!? I only saw 70% because I was covering my face with a blanket through most of it. Actually, make that 60%. For a good portion, I wasn't even facing the screen, and only glanced at it through my peripheral vision. I'm a big baby - I am owning this.

Anyway, I thereafter realized my missed opportunity. I have an appointment tonight to cut off my hair. Right now it's halfway down my back, and by tonight, I will look like a 7-year-old boy. After watching the movie, I saw that I have all the makings for a Korean movie ghost: long creepy hair, bitchface, and glaring eyes. The only thing I need is a white gown. This almost makes me want to keep my hair for Halloween 2013.

I searched for some images on Google for those of you who may not be familiar with the Korean gwishin. I happened to find one of me at work on a good day.