Maybe Cupid never had this in mind...

Before I launch into what I'm sure some will interpret as a tirade, I'd like to start off with a little bit of pleasantry...in the wonderment sense. I saw a homeless man today with scraggly, unkempt, and longish brown and grayish hair waving in the wind. His threads were dark and soiled. He stomped about in a peculiar glee. And in his hand he had two long stemmed crimson roses. They were brilliantly crimson. It was an enchanting sight...something so disparate in foundation. To see someone so dingy and to see such natural beauty associated with him was striking. I had to do a double take. If only more things could overwhelm my attention like that with greater frequency.

Valentine's Day. Now some of you may think that I am a bitter and morose individual because I really don't understand the stodgy nature in which our society celebrates 'love.' Flowers are nice. Chocolates? Sure, I like them, I guess. But when did these things become how people show others that they love them? You go out and dine at a restaurant, inevitably serving some dank 4-course pre-fixe meal that everyone has to order. The restaurant is able to justify inflating their prices and what you and your ravishing date get is an insipid and underwhelming meal for double what it really should cost. Valentine's Day is actually quite possibly the worst day in the entire calendar year to go out and eat. You will inevitably be disappointed. And if you aren't, chances are that you don't have a very good sense of taste or idea what being served well is like. Thanks, but I'll pass on the ho hum. I'll be the guy trying to do something with my hands or something that involves atypical strategy...whimsy if you will. Can't promise that it will be pretty or taste good. In fact, it could be disastrous. But I will have effectively utilized effort. You know, the real kind.

And perhaps you say, 'Good luck finding a girl that will adopt that line of thinking.' I would answer that you're absolutely right. I'm not going to find that many girls that share my discernment. But remember, I look for extraordinary. I pass on the vanilla. And I know that she's out there.

A little bit of creativity, folks. I know that you have some.

Starbucks is good for something other than burnt-ass coffee.

It's also good for kodak moments, funny enough. Sitting on the 19 tonight, trying to squiggle my way home, I noticed a Causasian girl, probably around 25 years old, step her way onto the bus accompanied with an African American girl, probably around the age of 10. They were each carrying frappucinos from Starbucks. They proceeded to take a seat and enjoy their beverages apparently induced with a healthy dose of genuine and raw banter. Laughter was abound. And you could see with each upward glance from the younger girl, with stars in her eyes, that she was truly beholden with the fact that this older girl, thought her cool enough to hang with her. Almost like, 'Thank you, for thinking enough, and being with me. I love you.'

It was beautiful (honestly, no sarcasm associated...I swear).


Thank you Starbucks...you make it convenient for folks to share moments. I forgive you, temporarily, for your disgusting coffee.

Chuck? Creepy? No.....

Chuck got to the bus stop with three minutes to spare today, according to his iphone at least. It had been a long day and he was anxious to get home and crack the top off a beer while allowing his body to be paralyzed on the couch. Upon reaching the stop, he discovered an attractive tall blond girl waiting there with the same intent as he. But there was an appearance about this girl that was reminiscent of someone he thought he had met in the last month. Was it her? He couldn't really get a direct gaze at her. Not without getting caught at least. So he did what any right-minded person would do. Once boarding the bus, he situated himself at the opposite end of the bus and rotated his head so that his line of sight would catch her position at each pendulum. But she noticed. And she turned around to avoid Chuck's apparent ghastly behavior. It was at that point that Chuck noticed a wedding ring on her left hand. And he smiled. He did not know this girl and she had caught him gawking. It was then that Chuck noticed a different girl sitting down, reading a book.

(Yes, I am Chuck, in case you were wondering.)

Chase likes white girls and long visits to the can.

I never really pondered over the display of a couple composed of an Asian girl and a Caucasian guy when I happened upon one. Not until I talked to my friend, Chase. You see...Chase hates Asian girls. He becomes queasy with just the mere glance of one. He also frequents the toilet to excavate numero dos more than any other individual that I personally know. But that is a story that I will save for another rainy day. This brief rhetoric will be solely devoted to highlighting Chase's observations about Asian girls and Caucasian dudes. Chase can't stand the sight of it. Yet Chase, as described above, isn't quite into Asian girls. So why should it really matter? Good question. It's because he hates white guys. Recently, Chase flew down to San Diego for a business trip. He reported that he procured an unusual amount of attention from Caucasian girls. And he was pleased. He would like to move to San Diego now.

Fine Print: Chase doesn't hate Asian girls and Caucasian guys. But he does revel in rolling on the ground collecting change, like a hobo. And he really is an industrial poop factory.

Yelp this, Smart Ass.

I only use Yelp occasionally to get feedback from people who have been patrons to specific establishments that I'm looking into, but I really need to read through a lot of text to find the reviews that I truly find functional. Just like Facebook, blogging, or even twittering now, it's another medium for people to extend their digital voice. And when you put it that way, it doesn't seem so bad. It's another innovative branch unto the freedom of speech...a spacious arena for someone to share their opinion. But here's the thing...more often than not, their opinions read like a caveman trying to articulate that the kampachi crudo was lacking seasoning and had too much acidity that it overwhelmed the fish. And no, I'm not talking about the Geico cavemen. That's right...it's downright impossible to absorb anything positive or pragmatic about these 'reviews,' other than "GOOOOOOOdddd" or "Baaaaaaddddaaaah." And fine, whatever, maybe I'm being a little condescending myself, but really now, what am I supposed to take from, "Dude, what's with the attitude. Great beers, great food, a little overpriced but customer service is key. How about a smile every now and then at leat." Two stars out of five. What does that mean? What should I really take from that? What makes the beers so great? What about the food did you like? And what are the industry standards for something being 'fairly' priced? After all of this, the 'great beers' and 'great food,' but service without a smile, warrants this place two stars out of five? According to what scaling system is it justifiable to knock it down that low? And you see, that's just it, there's really no logical frame for what comes to be an aggregate rating system for a place, because each individual carries in their pocket a different rating system where they hold certain attributes to have various levels of value and markability. Actual food, which to me, happens to be the most important thing to be at a food establishment (I know, go figure), doesn't appear to be the determining factor for quite a few yelpers. I've read far too many opinions that read, 'The food and drink are surprisingly fantastic, but the place is small and crowded. Also, it took us an extra 3 minutes to flag down some service. So I'm going to give it two stars out of five. If it wasn't so cramped, I'd give it the full five.' Really?! Did you find yourself forgetting that you were going to a pub? Cuz man, I totally agree...I love those pubs that have no one in them. It's absolutely refreshing to find no people in a pub, a place where people to go be social. There's a quaintness and charm that can be associated with a quiet pub (tsk-tsk).

I'm not saying that all yelpers are dumb twits, but a lot of them sound like prima donnas. And there is a difference to being a relevant reference basket of eloquent and constructive critique and just being a pretentious, wannabe-elitist, lover of-your-own weightless diction, A-hole. There is such a thing as writing for the sake of wanting to spread quality information. It's another thing to just be enamored with the sound of your own voice. Here's an example. Sure, super duper witty about comparing consistency of food to AT&T mobile service (scratching my head as I wonder how people can be so 'smart.'), but really, what's fruitful to take from this?...Not much.

Here's another 'review' from that I found amusing. It's written by a Joe C. Here's an excerpt:

"The food is just alright. I can't complain about the quality of the food because the quality was just fine. But that itself is also a problem. The food is JUST alright, nothing more and nothing less. I don't remember it being bad at all, but give me a few more weeks and I probably won't remember the food at all. It's not memorable."

So Joe, what is it that you are really trying to say? Because all I got there was that you liked it, but you thought it was ok, but you didn't have a problem with it, but you did, because you couldn't complain about the quality of the food, because it was fine, but you won't remember it, but you will remember that it wasn't bad at all, but you know...it's 'alright,' but you can't really understand why you can't say anything of worth about it, because you know, it was 'JUST' fine.

GREAT. Thank you for that.

The biggest fundamental pickle that I have with a lot of yelpers is that they're just downright cruel. I understand that this is a forum for more thought and freedom of opinion and it's great and wonderful...yadayadayada. But perhaps people should stop and think about how a lot of these businesses that they 'rate' and 'review' are small business establishments, run by families. These are people/families' livelihoods we're talking about here. They're trying to make an honest living and I'd venture to say that the majority of them do take pride in the service that they provide. They want people to come back and be happy with their experience. So just because you paid patronage to an establishment one time and had an experience that wasn't the greatest, you feel like it's your duty to sandbag them in every and any way possible? And even on an objective level, how can you honestly give a fair judgement on one experience? Maybe they had an off day. It does happen...to a lot of people, and I don't think that I'm out of line in saying that it happens to you, probably more often than you'd like to let on, since now you've become such an institution of judgement. Yes, I was being sarcastic....just to help you out if you didn't get that. And that's why I think this is just awesome:


These places that people love to bash should be able to bash people right back, if only for just the stupid shit that they write. Maybe Pizzeria Delfina's being a little hard on Natalie T. I guess I can sympathize with her. I personally love my pizza extremely dry, tasteless, bland, and overwhelming forgettable. Grease? Eww. Pig fat? That's like...sooooooooo gross. (Haha.)

To be fair, here is an example of a useful review in my opinion, written by Lee H. regarding Beretta. Insightful, by simply explaining the foundation of her opinion. Not denigrating by any means and voiced relatively fairly and descriptively. Kudos to you, Lee H. Only thing I would have liked to see, is if you had written your review after visiting maybe a couple times. And there in lies the reality, that it is hard to find a Yelper that will formulate a congruent opinion after a number of experiences and not just the first. If you notice, most of these reviews are written after the first experience.

So. People that want to be food critics and general reviewers of anything and everything...Perhaps, you should garner some expertise in the area of which you decide to offer your opinion. And for goodness' sake, don't base everything off of a first impression. And one more thing, spare the 'wit' and the gratuitous, heartless malice. You're really not that important.

Me? A Goodie-doer? Really?

When it comes to picking a career path, I've generally been approached by two schools of thought. The first is something that I was exposed to early and often. It's a school of thought deeply embedded in the thinking of traditional Chinese mentality, one that tends to lean more toward the conservative spectrum of thought. It's to play things safely. It's to do what is practical. And its reasoning is that it allows for equilibrium of emotion and control. Make enough money to support the various aspects of your livelihood. Do what is necessary to maintain your sanctity and lifestyle. For much of my life, I've adopted this curriculum. I do have a lifestyle that I'm accustomed to. And I wish to maintain that. If it means doing something that will sustain it, even if my heart doesn't sing with joy about it, it will suffice just as long as I'm not miserable doing it. And for a long time, this made complete sense to me. I generally accepted the fact that not everyone finds a career path that can be associated with bliss. But it's finding a happy medium that will benefit one's overall time on this earth in the long run. That happy medium will still allow for opportunities to materialize along the way.

And then this dude gallivants into the cafe. Let's just call him Recession.

"Hello Sir. Can I get you some coffee or a pastry?"
"No, but you can go f*@k yourself."
"Why, thank you. Will you be staying a while?"
"Yup. Anguish, baby. Anguish."
"Excellent. Thanks for the misery."

Now you'd think when this guy comes around and does to people what he does, people would be more inclined to embrace the first school of thought. In reality, most people do. You see, this fear monger took my job away from me. For the first few months, I scrambled to find 'a job.' Anything, really, would have been satisfactory. But then I kept putting myself out there in positions that I was easily qualified for and I kept finding my efforts fruitless. Five months later, still unemployed, my blinders are lost in the wind. And not to say that I'm not confused. I am perfectly discombobulated. And I'm scared shitless. Believe that. But my befuddlement is hatched by the fact that I'm thinking with not just my head now, but with my heart. Isn't it preposterous that people can't find jobs in their own industry...the industries that they've spent the better part of their professional careers fine-tuning? Brilliant, bright, capable, extraordinary people can't find a job doing what is second nature to them. Isn't there something entirely wrong with this picture? And all this heartache and abasement for what? For something that I'm not even passionate about doing? I worked for a company that did marketing and advertising online where the end game was lead generation...getting someone to fill out a form so that I could send that person's info to my client. What my client did with that lead wasn't my concern. It was just my concern that the client paid me for that lead. And while it was fine and I didn't mind the experience or actual work, it hardly warmed my heart and to be honest, it didn't tickle my brain all the much either.

Interesting. Maybe... just maybe... there would be a chance... that....... I would be happier doing something else? What an astonishing notion (slapping my thigh and half hoarsely chuckling)! And don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to denigrate people that stick to school of thought #1. I mean, people do need to make sure that their livelihoods are secure. People have children, they have large mortgages, fat bills to pay, immovable investments that they're tied to. I get it. They need something, anything. And they're right to feel that way. I'm just not one of those people. So here I am, finding myself giving this asshole (Recession) the bird. And at the same time, maybe I have him to thank for my new-found enlightenment.

So... good, honest work. Right. Something that I can take pride in doing. Something that I can smile about at the end of the day. And something that gives me frequent opportunity to say, 'Today was a good one.' Where can I indelibly leave my mark? Make someone happier than they were before? Leave, making a positive difference?

I don't know. But I'm going to look for it.

So that’s what it’s like to be a woman.

I went to a bbq yesterday for Bay to Breakers. An elder man, inebriated out of his wits grabbed me by the arm and mumbled,

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah….suck your ______.”

Oh really, you say?! You are one smooth dude. I thought to myself, ‘Even if I was into that, you are the ugliest, vilest, most detestable, doop of a man. I’m going to go shower now. '

And then I had a thought immediately after…did I really just think that? Wow. Revelation. Women really do have to put up with a lot of appalling behavior.

And so it goes...

Here is my surrender to the revolution of social networking and its co-conspirator, the blog. Initially, I wondered why the blogging phenomenon was so utterly captivating to people. I thought that there seemed to be a bit of self-indulgence in the average blogger's tone. It appeared to be a forum to get more attention from people who probably don't even care that much about you. A bit of a 'Look at me! Look at me!' domain. I mean, why wouldn't people just keep a journal, if these thoughts and ideas and information that they needed to write were only really for their own self-gratification.

But here I am. The more that I've read, the more I've discovered with every crappy, prima donna's weightless fluff, there is a person that actually has interesting and thought-provoking things to say. It's good information and ideas inspiring people to think for themselves and the day ahead. I can't cut that. So to you, Blog. Let's hurry up and get this love-hate relationship over with. I aim to be completely worthless and really, the more shitty entries I can post, the better.

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Yesterday, I had dinner with some friends at Sahn Maru in Oakland. It's a Korean establishment. I've been there a few times now. It has quickly become a favorite of mine. The people there are very warm and entering the doors always is met with a cheerful, bright smile. Last night we had bbq chicken and pork, spicy kimchee bean paste soup, kimchee seasoned assorted shellfish with preserved fish and veggies. You will come to know me as a foodie so I will often write about my foodventures and taste bud tickles. The food was fantastic and always is here, but what I really want to write about here is the conversation that I had amongst my friends. I met these friends that I had dinner with in college. The one that sat next to me has a younger sister. The way she describes her sister is a little heart-wrenching. It seems as if she is encapsulated in a shell. She doesn't seem to like talking to anyone and would rather just be left alone. I, being the obnoxious twit that I am, enjoy trying to get my friend to set me up with her sister. The funny part of it is how irritated she gets. And I'm not really sure if it's the idea of me and her sister, or if it's just anyone and her sister. I'm pretty certain it's the former. Here's a little of our dialogue:

Friend: She wouldn't be into you.
Me: Why not? She's not into awesomeness?
Friend: (nervous chuckle) She doesn't like talking to my friends.
Me: I bet you that I could make her laugh.
Friend: That actually might do her some good.
Me: And then I could take her back to my place.
Friend: .......
Me: You and I are going to be in-laws.
Friend: (contemptfully grinning)
Me: I'd be able to confide in you about, you know....bedroom stuff.
Friend: You're terrible.
Me: Do you have a picture of her? Can I see?
Friend: Why?
Me: Because I'd like to see what my soulmate looks like.
Friend: (vexatiously twitches) I have to go to the bathroom.

Yes, you may think that I was a little inappropriate. But one must be so every now and then to enjoy a soulful laugh. It has become habitual for me to inquire about her and her availability. I do this because I know that I can push her buttons and it gives me pleasure and apparently, everyone else at the dinner table as well.

Some people get very squeamish with particular things. My friend becomes very uncomfortable when I talk about her sister. I tried thinking about what makes me uncomfortable. Is there anything that makes me wiggle like a worm on a fish hook when encountered with? I couldn't really think of one. And I think that I'm lucky in this regard. But I will continue to look.