I recently had the opportunity to go speed dating for free.  They were short women for the “upscale” singles event.  The first thought in my mind was this…

…a hot guy in a suit.  Ok, so it was 100 degrees and we would be on a patio but, I DON’T CARE!  Ok maybe he would  be in lightweight linen pants and a short sleeved or maybe rolled up sleeve button down shirt.

Or maybe he would be into fashion and look this guy (I am a Refinery29 addict now)…

In my head this man is definitely NOT wearing khakis.  Nor would he be wearing shorts on a Thursday evening after work (unless he was out exercising or on a boat).

What was I wearing?  A simple knit dress.  Clean cut, bat-wing sleave, v-cut hem.  The print was geometric (halston-esque).  I think I had on heels as well.  I was Jen the fashion designer.

Needless to say, this event wasn’t as classy as expected.  The ladies definitely out scored the men on the classyometer (that is now a word). This round I had zero picks.  But to be fair there were four repeats from last time.

So the other day I drunk impulse bought a registration for speed dating.    I’ve done it once before and  based on my year long failure of acquiring a date on OkCupid  (more on this later) I decided to take a chance.

I wasn’t feeling awesome.  I was actually running a low grade fever.  I tossed on a black jersey dress, red shoes, and a belt and headed for the Highball.  I walked in, grabbed a soda water with lime and slapped on my name tag.

“Hi, my name is Jen. I am a seamstress and I work in vintage restoration and reproduction. ”

Why talk about the gov’t job that I don’t like?  Besides, I was going for less intimidating.   Over the course of my 13 mini dates I discovered at least 3  more people living dual lives.  Most of them were musicians.  Not bad.

I am not going to discuss each “date” in detail.  My notes weren’t as detailed as last time.  If you want more details, well maybe you should pay for me to attend another one.  I can say that there are two guys  I would actually go out with.  There were two more that I would consider just hanging out with as friends.

What I would like to discuss, is how poorly the event was run.  This was the first time I used this service.  I probably would have reconsidered based on the poor web interface. But alas, I was drunk when I signed up.  They promised snacks and drink specials, what I saw was a sad tray of crackers and after surveying a few attendees the drink specials were few and far between.

If you haven’t been to speed dating before, it goes like this. You put on your name tag.  They hand you a sheet of paper to make notes on (they don’t give you enough so bring your own).  They seat you and your “date” at a table and you get anywhere from 6-10 minutes (this time it was 6) to find out as much as possible about the other person.  They ring a bell when the time is up and they make one gender rotate (this time males rotated).  Usually they give you a little time to write down notes or they tell you when the bathroom breaks are.  Not this time.  To make matters worse, we started out minus 3 ladies, this meant the guys had extra chill time.

After the event, you are supposed to log back in to the horrible website and click on the people that you are interested in contacting. If by some chance they want to contact you as well you will get their contact info.  The site has no personal information to aid in your judgement.  It would be nice if I could find out if either of the people I selected were smokers.  That is a deal breaker.

If anyone at the Highball is listening.  You should run your own speed dating event or “dating game”.  Nerd Night does it.  Get the action pack to run it.

Before I begin my rant.  I need to tell you all to go out and see Submarine.  It’s a film, not a movie.  Another great performance by Noah Taylor and a surprisingly good soundtrack.    I was a bit shocked when I found out that Alex Turner (front man for the Arctic Monkeys) was the man behind these songs.  But, I think that is the point of indie films.  Showcasing new/underused talent.  The last time I saw a film with a soundtrack so shockingly perfect was “Dan in Real Life.”

…and now for the rant portion.  Hopefully my rant is not as bad as this stuff is… (more…)

My tolerance for “special” people is tanking.  I don’t know if it is related to the string of violent films I have seen or what,.  My field notes from TV on the Radio at Stubb’s say the following: To the girl with the “serenity” tattoo on the back of her neck,  I have all I can do not go go Rainn Wilson on your ass with my bike wrench. [For those of you who don't know, that is a reference to Super.  Watch the trailer.  I am glad a wrote that down.   In reality, I would turn her in to security.  I would tell them that she was a danger to herself and that she was probably on drugs.  Why the passive aggressive approach?  Umm, APD doesn't like brown people.] I think that my surrounding concert mates would have liked to have a go at all the drunkards who felt the need to mosh around to a band that deserves more respect.

Let’s rewind to the start of my day. (more…)

So most people these holidays are fearing a little pat down by the TSA. I fear Christmas cards/letters.  The majority of the people I want to keep in touch with are on the Facebook.  If not, I find a way to keep in touch with them.  If you don’t hear from me at all during the year, something says that I have moved on.

So here is the deal. I am still getting Christmas cards from people I stopped speaking to at least 5 years ago.  They actually stopped speaking to me first.  [I may have done something slightly not so PC at the time.  But whatever, such is life and if they can't handle it, I don't need them (BTW, if a guy did what I did, he would get a high five and maybe a free beer).]

So, I digress…  anyways, the card isn’t just a carbon copy of what everyone else gets.  They actually have taken time out to write something personal (on their already personal couples photo card).  “Hope to hear from you”, or “we read your blog and it looks like you have had a great year” or “keep in touch”.  And no.  I am a hard core grudge holder.  Once you are out, you are out.  I may go from extremely angry to civil and can tolerate your presence for an hour or so, but to be honest.  I am still not a happy camper.

… Thanks but no thanks,  I will take the pat down any day.

I don’t care if douchebaggery isn’t a word.  I needed a good descriptor for what is to follow.

<soapbox>

I got a disturbing round of texts yesterday about the use of a friend’s photos in their ex’s new online dating profile.  Really?  Specifically about a picture taken with their pet.  Seriously,  pictures with your ex’s animal(s) do not score you points in the sensitivity arena.  How do you handle the questions about said animal in chats or on the first date?  Do you make up a story about how fluffy was hit by a car and it has been a hard few years, but now you can finally deal with the loss?  Inquiring minds want to know.

A long time ago, the staff put together a few lists of profile do’s and don’ts (here, and here).  As always, I say skip using your past to advertize your present self.  How hard is it to get a friend to take a few pictures?  If you don’t have friends, try a fucking camera with a tripod and timer.  My cheap ass netbook does a good job of taking profile pictures.

</soapbox>

People say that home is where the heart is.  Sadly I am feeling rather vacant in that area.  Home has been my car and an assortment of places I have keys for (BTW if I haven’t said it enough, thank you for giving me keys to your houses).  I am becoming a product of this sterile environment that I return to everyday after work.

For the last 4 months I have been living in a store display.  Apparently to sell a house, the house has to be lived in, yet void of life.  I have to say that living in a store display is taking it’s toll.  Personal items are stashed away in drawers and boxes.  My sewing gear is mostly packed away because I don’t want people touching it (Note to visitors: It is not appropriate to touch a seller’s personal belongings, nor should you use their bathrooms).  Books and DVDs are in the closet to avoid clouding anyone’s judgement on the purchase of my home.   I can’t even cook here.  People looking at houses do not have the same appreciation for the smell of butter and garlic that I do.  The longer the house is on the market the less it feels like home.

Today I went to work on the verge of a meltdown (If you know me, you know I don’t have breakdowns often).  I told my boss that I was going to stay in my office and put myself in time out. Why?  I knew it was a bad day when I dropped the f-bomb within 5 minutes of entering the building.  I was pissed. I busted ass and spent a rather large sum of money to have the interior of the house painted. Why?  To encourage a hasty sale of my home.  Sadly, the open house on Sunday drew in a single buyer and they weren’t interested.

Normally, I don’t bring personal into the business place but after 4 months of living in a store display I can’t keep it together.  I thought after 2 days of virtually nothing but chick flicks I had cried enough tears to feel too exhausted to be angry.  Instead I spent the day pissed off and listening to punk rock.

After work I decided that it was in my best interest to go to one of my temporary homes (the one with the streaming videos on demand) and chill out.  I watched a film (I think it should be categorized as a film) about a dysfunctional family, “Rachel getting married.”  I was crossing my fingers that it would numb the anger.  Otherwise I was going home and breaking dishes in the back yard. It wasn’t until now that I fully understood what was meant by this quote from High Fidelity. :”… I want to feel something else than this. It either that, or I go home and stick my hand in the fire.”

Yes, it’s come to that.  I told my mom that this house thing is making me crazy.  If I hadn’t just blown a ton of money on painting the house I would have a month and a half of rent in the apartment I should have been living in by now.

So what’s next?  No fucking clue.  I cannot afford rent and a mortgage. I appreciate the offers but I do not want temporary housing.   I do not want to unpack until I am in a new place.

Last night I danced it out at the Highball to the best of  2000 (or so they say).  I hate to think that Rhianna, Beyonce, and Lady Gaga were all that this decade brought forth. [Disclaimer, I left a little after 2am.  I strongly doubt they were able to bang out the missing hits before they closed the place down for the night. But who knows?  I could be wrong.] there was no cover so I shouldn’t complain.

We drank, we danced, yet we couldn’t help wondering… What about the the bounty that the vocoder brought us?  T-Pain… Little Wayne?  What about Outcast?  Hey Ya anyone? What about the Hey Ya of 2006? Gnarles Barkley’s Crazy.  As much as I hate to say it, where were the Black Eyed Peas and Fergie? 2000s were filled with some booty shakin (and milkshakin‘) music for the most part.

It wasn’t until the late aughties that disco and new wave made their triumphant return (Gaga, MGMT, etc…)  But where was Cut Copy? Bloc Party? Passion Pit? Pheonix? Ratatat? Ghostland? MSTRKRFT? NASA? All of the hipster dance anthems of the aughties.

I would like to think that the music deficit was based on the availability of the songs on kareoke and video and not on a lack of knowledge about 2000s club music.  What say you Action Pack?

Twitter Fail Whale

So M, 10HDG, and I hit the Houston Free Press Summer FAIL! Fest this weekend. Houston Free Press made an attempt at making their own Fun^3 Fest.  Granted, one could say it was a good first attempt at an indie music festival in Houston.  But I think that these guys overextended themselves with a two day, two stage festival full of music with no outside food or beverages. The whole weekend I was haunted by this image.  The sign of disappointment.

The first failure was getting into the festival. Our tickets were at will call.  We stood in the will call line, then some festival staff walked by the line and said that anyone with a printed confirmation or a phone with confirmation on it could walk up to the gate.  How was this a Fail! moment?  Well, we got to the gate in no time but we didn’t receive our VIP wristband or $20 in food/drink tickets.  We walked around in the sweltering heat trying to find someone who knew how to remedy the situation.  After walking to the other end of the park I managed to find someone to get us VIP wristbands but they didnt’ have food vouchers.  M and 10HDG didn’t have cash and apparently the festival only worked in shiny beads and trinkets food/drink tickets  that had to be purchased with cash.  At this point we were hot, tired and  ready to leave.  Emailling paypal to try and get our money back was sounding like a good idea.  We went back to where we entered the park and finally got someone of authority (they had a walkie talkie) to get us the tickets.  We also found an ATM. (more…)

I nearly threw up in my mouth today as I was catching up on the enviro-clips at work today.

From the Statesman

The State Board of Education on Friday adopted standards on the teaching of global warming that appear to both question its existence and prod students to explore its implications.

Language that instructed students to “analyze and evaluate different views on the existence of global warming,” which had been offered as an amendment and was adopted unanimously in an initial vote Thursday, led to outrage among environmental groups.

I laughed when Tina Fey gave her Palin impersonation…  “It’s just god huggin’ us closer.”

Then I was informed that we weren’t allowed to speak of Global Warming at the office.  Umm, I am a scientist.  WTF? Apparently in the land of Bible Beaters and Gov. Goodhair, the only GW out there is the one that just left office.