I wish Flickr would upload faster so I can finally give you guys a real post, dammit. 80 more pictures to go…

Have I become…THAT GIRL!?!

That girl. You know, that girl who disappears once she gets a boyfriend? The one who pretty much falls off the face of the planet and you wonder if she is alive? The one who is in permanent MIA status (or who hasn’t updated their Facebook status in x number of days)?!? This is a seriously valid question.

A girlfriend texted me earlier today and told me that I have become one of “those girls”. Seriously!? It’s probably not a big deal and I am sure she was 99% joking (although there’s probably some truth in the said statement), but this is not the person I want to be. Who remembers my earlier blog entries, with posts that were centralized on this very topic and the fact that I completely loathe them!??! Not because I was jealous, but because what I was witnessing was a sad, sad thing, especially when it happened to close friends of mine — which is why I am semi-freaking out on this. I am not one of those girls, dammit. If I were to be, then I would seriously consider myself as a hypocrite.

I see where she is coming from but I don’t think my friends have taken a hit; if anything, it’d have to be this blog. And it’s not because I am so busy in a relationship — it’s because I am suffering from a lack of inspiration to actually write OR the current occurrences in my life are to remain private, not for public consumption. It’s a little bit of both. But despite having a boyfriend who is increasingly taking away more time days out of my week, I firmly believe that I am still upholding my duty as a friend to, well, my friends and privileged acquaintances. I am still maintaining a healthy diet, work out, business, and social life and I have got to say that I have almost perfected my work-life balance. Although my time during the week is limited (for god’s sake, I work at 6am Monday to Friday and weekends are pretty much booked until July), I still make the time to spend it with my friends, despite how crazy/hectic it is trying to coordinate a date that actually works… Chicks (and gay men) before dicks, right?

So, to answer my own question, I do not think I have become one of “them”. Thoughts?

Not buying it anymore.

My emotions are like an on and off switch. Yesterday was an off day. Today is an off day. Future days will be off days because words provide no backing and don’t mean anything to me. It’s cliche, but actions speak louder than words. Mean what you say? Then prove it.

PS. It’s difficult blogging from an iPhone. It’s like writing a very long text message. Not recommended.

Shallow? Racist? REALLY!?!?

“Shallow” was a word I often heard when I was single and on the hunt for a man. And yeah, I admit that I still am a little shallow but why does that word have to be used with such negative connotations? I hardly see it as a bad thing; in fact, I see it as a positive. My definition of “shallow” would be havingpreference, knowing what I want (atleast at this age), and getting it. Sure, I may have certain “criteria” that I would like to have see fulfilled but it’s certainly not rigid. My boyfriend isn’t half the things I was looking for in a guy but hey, I’m happy because he still satisfies a) b) and c).

Honestly, I’m just writing this post out of spite because of a recent comment on one of my past entries. I’m not too irked that he called me “shallow” but moreso on the fact that he called me racist for having a preference for white guys. Um…no? I’m dating a guy who’s half Colombian and half Chinese. And everybody has their own preferences and biases. I’m sure this person who commented isn’t attracted to every race. I assumed this was common knowledge in this day and age. Guess not.

And I really don’t know what I am defending myself on my own blog. It’s rare that I let things get to me but I guess I’m just really bored at work right now (hence why I’m writing this so damn early). Moral of the story? Live and let live, bitch. Or should I say, write and let write. It’s my blog. ‘Nuff said.

The Real Housewives of Vancouver.

RHOV. Premiere. Is. Tomorrow.

I love The Real Housewives franchise and I am completely stoked for the Vancouver edition of it. And despite my eagerness and overexcitement for the show, I am unable to watch it. Why? Because I don’t have cable. And my boyfriend doesn’t want to watch it with me. And I have work at 6:00am the next day. FML. I’m actually pissed! Yes, I’m aware that I could download the next day and watch it on my laptop but that’s just like eating something from Tableau out of a take out container. Just no. It shouldn’t be done. And instead of being a great boyfriend and sacrificing two hours of his time to watch RHOV with me, he’s taking me to watch The Hunger Games, dinner, and catch up on Spartacus. Snore. I don’t even want to watch stupid Hunger Games anymore. And I don’t care about dinner because I would be more than glad to make him a homecooked meal (and demonstrate my future housewife skills) instead. My food is better than any restaurant he would take me to in Richmond anyways. Spartacus is a good thing though. But anyways, I’m freakin’ pissed. Oh, and even though I work at an ungodly hour the next morning, I would more than gladly give up sleep to watch this show. I’ve been waiting like a YEAR for this to come out, for fuck’s sake. I haven’t had cable for a month or so nor do I come home to any company (I live at home, FYI) so a little TV would be a real treat, to be honest. RHOV is a guilty pleasure of mine. And that 2-hour time slot where my brain will turn to mush will be greatly appreciated in the long run. All in all, I am pissed. I am not one to hide my anger and homeboy couldn’t even take the hint (well, he did but he just wouldn’t budge). Dealbreaker? Perhaps. Time to pull out the ‘no sex’ card.

I have seen better days.

Today sucked. I experienced a rollercoaster of emotions from AM to PM and I am utterly exhausted, physically and mentally. Goodnight.


Irritate me. Why is there an inherent need to label things/people? People feel compelled to slap a label on practically everything. Girlfriend/boyfriend, single/taken, butch/femme, top/bottom, good/bad, legal/illegal. The dichotomous way in which society functions is utterly problematic as there are many individuals that do not fit the cookie cutter mould. For example, intersex individuals. What’s that? Lady Gaga. Google it. As a gender studies minor, I’m very familiar with the term. It’s a grey area which can be described as neither girl or boy. An inbetween. No, not a hermaphrodite (in some cases, yes).  Quick to label, see?  It’s an example of a grey area. And considering the amount of people that do not abide by conventional standards, I am constantly baffled by the fact that these “grey areas” are still considered to be socially unacceptable. I really don’t understand the importance of it. Labelling, which is most often do in a negative way, demonstrates poor education and ignorance, in my opinion.

And titles. Everyone has a fucking title nowadays. Foodie. Blogger. Business Administration Candidate. WTF?  I have a good laugh whenever someone follows me on Twitter because they try to squeeze in every possible title in their tiny Bio section. Uh, I thought Twitter was supposed to be condensed and to the point? Right.

First of all, everybody is a “self-proclaimed” foodie nowadays. Do you have any culinary training?  Did you study at AI?  Do you even cook?  Not saying that these three things are necessary accreditation to be considered a “foodie”, but it bugs me when people try so hard blogging about food when they have no idea how it was cooked, prepared, the ingredients used, etc. It just makes me cringe a little.

…which brings me to my next point. Blogger. I cringe when my friends refer to me as a “blogger”. I don’t know. I blog for myself. I blog because I enjoy writing. I blog because I enjoy sharing my stories with others. I don’t get paid to do it. When people say “blogger”, they kind of refer to it as some sort of profession, but it’s really not. (but hey, if you can professionally blog, kudos to you…jealous).

[Insert undergraduate program] Candidate. This is hilarious. I always see business kids using this in their signatures. I’ve ranted about this before. The professors in my program actually sent out an angry email via our academic advisor to correct and prevent undegraduate from adding “candidate” in their signatures. Why? Because “candidate” means you’re in graduate school…which many of us sadly are not. Annoying. Stop.


I sometimes feel that there is so much weird shit on my blog that I need to balance it out with some academic stimulation. I hope I was able to rack your brain for a split second.