If You Need to Laugh Very Very Very Hard

Thanks TB for the tip. This site is H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S!

http://www.textsfromlastnight.com

People put in their area codes and you can enter in your text messages. You can simply browse or search by your area code.

Here are some of my favorites from today.

(905): Just found a glow stick inside of my vagina..
(1-905): With the amount of traffic your vagina gets, it was only a matter of time before someone threw a rave there.

(412): i know they say sex burns calories but i think i actually gained weight from just lying there for the whole 2 minutes

(310): we better have passed that bar exam - i dont want to have to drink like this again

First Wedding Deposit

I signed the contract for our wedding at the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs today. 25% deposit upon signing.

I have to say, I'm now excited about wedding planning. The venue is hip, chic, and reasonably priced. The catering manager has been very accommodating. The contract includes the site fee for the ceremony and reception, all the food and bevvies plus service charges. I also got in my request for the nicest suite in the hotel for two nights.

Very exciting!

It's all starting to come together and the wedding is still about a year away. I think I've got my DJ. I think I've found my dream dress. And I definitely have my dream man. I wonder how that honeymoon planning is going since he's in charge of it!

The Bachelorette

I was furious with the last Bachelor. What a fucking asshole to dump someone on national TV. If I came across Jason Mesnick, I would certainly have a few venomous words for him. And that doormat Molly. She was his second choice, but easily took him back. She was smiling and giddy. Was anyone else thinking, "You dumb bimbo. Stop holding his hand and caressing him. You were his second choice and you think it's ok for him to waltz back into your life." Completely ridiculous. The Bachelor left a foul taste in my mouth--as it did for a lot of America. Check out the message boards.

But with 10 million viewers watching the finale of the Bachelorette, I have to think that most of us were pleased with the outcome. Cute, fun, Canadian Jillian choosing solid, centered Ed from Chicago. I don't care what others have to say, Ed is hot! Tall and muscular. Although Kiptyn was ripped (who has abs like that?), he's just not a burly manly man like Ed.

And finally. It took a Canadian to make a wise (and obvious) decision. Choosing the bachelor who genuinely told her he loved her. Choosing the guy who asked her dad for her hand in marriage. Choosing the guy who was completely right all along. Sure he left temporarily because he cared about his career. All the other bachelors were there the whole time and couldn't come to terms with whether or not they were truly falling in love with her.

I am so proud of Jillian. But more so, I'm just so proud of Ed. He knew he was in love with Jillian. He told her. But before he proposed, he said, "I need to know that you love me, too." You go, Ed!!! Way to tell the Bachelorette that she needs to step up and reciprocate.

I'm still elated a couple days later. That is true love. And all is good in the world now that we've witnessed such a beautiful courtship.

Reception Site: photo credit - Ace Hotel

Cold Heart Cash

I want money. I'll take it in the form of cash, check, Visa or Amex gift card. You can PayPal it to me. I'll give you my checking account and routing number.

You sneer, "She has gone off the deep end. Tactless. Totally tactless."

Let me preface my comments with the following. I don't need gifts. I'm independent, self-supporting. I don't need presents to make me happy. If you can't afford one, please do not get me one.

Now back to the tacky discussion. I guess it's perfectly acceptable to register for gifts--essentially telling people you want presents--and printing it on invitations. How many invitations have I received with 'Registered at Williams-Sonoma, Crate and Barrel, Babys R' Us' duly noted.

I can't tell you how many people have whined, "But Catherine, you have to register. C'mon, a Foreman grill, beautiful china, something?"

Ok, people. Dean and I currently cohabitate in a studio--albeit a very large studio--still a friggin studio. I am 34 years old. He's 40. We do not need anything. We do not need an ice-cream maker. We do not need a crystal Lennox frame. We do not need another 500 thread count bed sheet!

I want a wedding that my guests can enjoy. I want a honeymoon. I want a house. I want my child to go to Miss Porter's boarding school where Jackie Onassis went.

Let's say that in order to PayPal me money as my wedding gift, you had to pay an 8% service charge. That's totally not true, but let's say that were the case. You'd cry bloody wedding murder, right? You'd say, no way. No way am I giving that tacky bride my hard-earned cash plus 8% on top of it.

Stop and think now. Do you realize that's exactly what you're doing when you buy something on someone's registry?! It's called sales tax. And in the city of San Francico it's hitting 10%. Not only that, you're most likely paying shipping and handling charges, too.

When I say, I want your cold heart cash, I'm telling you I love you. I'm telling you A) save your 8% tax, B) save your shipping and handling fees, and C) most importantly, save yourself the time of having to browse a wedding registry and look for a gift. It's quite simple.

You want to paint a portrait of Dean and I staring into each other's eyes? I like that. Is there a sentimental gift you've been dying to give me? So cool with that, too. But when did practicality get overshadowed by material things? And when did giving money become so wrong? Who doesn't swoon at the red Chinese envelopes on New Year's? That's what I want to get across. It would be different if we were starting out post-college a decade ago. We have everything we need in terms of 'stuff.'

But not another rice cooker, please.

Our Wedding Venue: photo credit - Ace Hotel

Location, Location, Location

Unlike most girls, I never really had visions of my dream wedding. Only later on in life (as in a few years ago), I swore that if ever I got married, I'd rent a private estate in wine country and have an In-N-Out truck pull on up after the rice-throwing. Cheeseburger animal style coming right up. Those hopes were dashed when I learned that the In-N-Out truck does not service the Northern California area. Even then, it only services a very small region of the Los Angeles area. Oh well, back to the drawing board.

As I get ready to sign a wedding reception contract on our Palm Springs hotel, I wanted to give my newly-engaged friend some wedding planning advice. The process sucks. It's going to cost you a shitload of money. But wedding planning only gets better after you decide on a place.

Here's how I did it.
1. Scroll through venue by venue either the book or the web site Here Comes the Guide. It's as comprehensive as it gets when it comes to wedding locations in California. You can filter by winery, private estate, ranch, museum, art gallery. What I like about the site is that the pricing information is pretty accurate...so you can see what your baseline cost will be.

2. I continued to look at private residences that would allow for a big wedding. Caution: there is a huge expense in terms of rentals (chairs, tables, linens) if you go this route.

3. I told everyone I knew that I was trying to find a venue, and soon enough, recommendations poured in. Lots of hidden gems I wouldn't have known about.

4. I scoured magazines, wedding web sites, photography sites.

5. I thought of my favorite restaurants and clubs like Foreign Cinema and Green's here in the city.

6. I considered a true destination wedding like Hawaii or Mexico, but we agreed that we would genuinely be losing people we wanted at our wedding.

There's no easy way to figure out your wedding location. It takes a lot of time, lots of phone calls, lots of site visits. For us, it came down to the right price at a cool spot.

Happy searching!

Honest Dialogue

I ended the weekend hanging out with a bunch of Dean's friends at McTeague's on Polk Street. One of his friends said, "I don't even know you that well, but it's nice to talk to you.  It's nice having you here."  

I smiled and gave him a pat on the back.  "I know what it's like.  I was an alcoholic.  I know what it's like to be in your shoes.  Hang in there.  It'll be ok."

It reminded me of a conversation I had several years ago at a bar in the Mission.  It was one of my ex-boyfriend's favorite local hangouts. We were there with a bunch of his friends.  His roommate started talking to me, then kept going and going and going.  I listened, I truly cared. I dabbed at my eyes and gave him a big hug.  "I'm so sorry for your pain.  It breaks my heart. I'm here if ever you want to talk anymore."

While walking home, my boyfriend at the time had asked about our conversation.  "Looks like you were in deep conversation with my roomie.  Did you guys get along?"

"He told me he took his girlfriend to have an abortion.  She cheated on him and he was man enough to take her to get an abortion. Heart-breaking.  Really friggin heart-breaking."

My boyfriend became visibly upset.  He huffed, "I can't believe he just told you that.  That's private information.  What was he doing tell you about the abortion?"

"I don't know.  Maybe because he wanted to talk and I was there to listen, alright?  Maybe because I didn't judge him and I just sat there and listened.  I told him that that was really courageous for him to do."

I think it upset my ex-boyfriend that his roommate was sharing intimate details with me when we weren't even friends.

I started my blog for an assortment of reasons.  Mainly because I like to write.  But also because I wanted other people to feel like they weren't alone.  I blogged about alcoholism, an eating disorder, depression...topics that make most cringe.  You're not supposed to talk about feelings!  Just shut up and hope it goes away, right?  I didn't blog because I wanted people to feel sorry for me.  I wanted readers to know that they weren't alone.  

It's ok to be sad.  It's ok to be single.  It's ok that you're not leading the perfect life.  Why? Because you could go to my blog and commiserate with me.  And it made me feel good that others gleaned a bit of inspiration from my experiences.  

A friend said that she hoped I'd continue to keep my writing honest despite taking it public.  I hope so, too.  Thanks for your emails and comments.  Keep 'em coming.  

Let's understand the world together.

A New Neighborhood

I love being a city girl, living and working in one of the best cities in the world.  Mind you, I live in the heart of San Francisco on the border of Western Addition and Lower Pacific Heights.  I'm centrally located with bus lines zig-zagging all around me.  When I told people how much I loved living in the city, I probably ignored the fact that commuting and riding MUNI sucks ass. Every morning, a crowd of us would hover, wondering whether or not the next bus would stop. Most likely NOT.  After one or two busses passed--practically standing room only, the waiting and growing crowd of Financial District worker bees would get more and more furious.  One time, I stood in front of a bus's path.  "YOU NEED TO STOP!" I screamed with the palm of my right hand extended.  "We have been waiting for 45 minutes and three buses have passed us." Everyone piled in like upright packaged sardines.  It made my life miserable.  I never knew if I'd make it in time for a meeting.  I had taxi cabs on speed dial just in case.

Dean lives in Lower Nob Hill.  Fabulous Lower Nob Hill...where I can walk to work in 15 minutes, easily take one of a myriad of busses, or even hop on a cable car.  I feel like I have so much more time.  I'm a lot happier.  I don't know how I lived where I did for so long.  Give yourself the luxury of living close to work.  It's marvelous!

Chicago GSB Preppy or Punk Party

A Diamond in the Rough

I remember my first year at the GSB in 2002. Business Week was coming out with their rankings. We had the countdown broadcast live in the basement of Stuart Hall across from the Gargoyle Cafe. Everyone watched intently on the big screen and others were streaming it on their laptops. We were screaming just knowing we made it into the top 10, then down to the top 5. I was jumping up and down. People were whooping it up. Top 4, top 3. We couldn't believe it. We were screaming and yelling, "#1 BABY!!! We're gonna be #1."

We got the #2 spot, but there wasn't a hint of disapointment. Instantly, a keg rolled in. Deans Snyder and Ann McGill popped open champagne. I felt like I celebrated every day of my two years of business school. Even back then, in a dingy basement, what a joy. And how exciting to come back to the brand new school. Now #1. I'm just so proud.

We are working on the 5-year GSB (now rebranded to Chicago Booth) reunion set for November 5-8. I'm not much use when it comes to deciding on venues for happy hour, brunch, dinner since I'm so disconnected from the Chicago scene. But I think I'll come in handy when it's time to rally the troops. I expect all 550 of you to show up! So mark your calendars.

I think about my business school experience and how I lucked out. I thought I'd be holed up in a library every weekend. I passed Physics with a C--the one eye sore to my undergrad transcript. Graduate school must be harder than Physics, right? I was going to a quant school with the background of a liberal arts education. Excuse me, all these equations are making me dizzy. Can we go back to iambic pentameter, please?

Instead, grad school consisted of late night burritos, waking up hungover, and meeting for bloodies at brunch...in the middle of the week! We went on a cruise, Jazz Fest, Mexico, South America. It's not what I expected.

Just like no one expected my small Catholic high school to find basketball glory a la Hoosiers.

Or my regional company to go national.

Start small, dream big.

Looking forward to that very windy city in the bitter cold of winter on glittery Navy Pier.

Are You Linked?

The latest edition of San Francisco magazine features an article on my former matchmaker. In my matchmaker's last newsletter, she mentioned how they were looking forward to the article---with no clue on the final outcome. I've been checking the magazine kiosk at the Bank of America building across the street every day, waiting anxiously as well. I wanted to know what an outside reporter thought. Well, I thought she did a great job. Her writing was witty and insightful. What it lacked, however, was more probing. While the article focused on one man's experience, I felt like she needed a female perspective which is where I come in of course! The whole process is so fascinating, I constantly flirt with the idea of writing an article myself on the matchmaking experience. One of these days, I'll get on it.

But for now, I wanted to write this post specifically for my single readers. In the hubbub of all this wedding planning, I think of how I was single not too long ago. I was in your shoes. Some days I hated it, but some days I really loved it. I loved going out and doing my own thing without having to report to anybody. I loved having my very own place where I could sit on the toilet for a few hours reading a book or magazine. I loved blogging about my disastrous dates. At least readers could appreciate my misery.

Then over time, I decided that the single lifestyle wasn't for me anymore. I really wanted to be with someone. So I did everything I could. I did the online sites. I asked friends if they knew anyone--no pressure, just asking. Soon enough, every 3rd or 4th date was a setup. I went out all the time. I got dressed up and made an effort to have a great time--even by myself. I went to social functions without knowing a soul. I even entertained the idea of organized sports. Me---the blind Asian girl with the worst hand-eye coordination ever. I went to lectures at the Commonwealth Club. I went to every new restaurant and bar opening.

I put an end to the guys who were recycling me. Because as much as you think you can handle it, you cannot.

And lastly, I put my money where my mouth was and spent a portion of my bonus to hire a $5,000 matchmaker. As a frugal person who has worked hard my whole life to put myself through school, writing that check did not come without a lot of due diligence, a lot of soul searching, and a lot of faith. Several of the matches were duds, but I did meet one great guy (Shout out to BH--maybe you're reading this?) who cooked dinner and made me laugh…a lot.

I liked that we came from different worlds. "Never heard of the University of Chicago. Is it a good school?" I thought he was being sarcastic. He was not. I liked that he wasn't someone I would have picked out for myself. It made me think the matchmaker sorta knew what she was doing. She told me to take my blog down and after much angst, I realized she was right. No guy wants to be with a girl who blogs about her dating life.

When I hired my matchmaker, I had laughed to myself, "How ironic would it be if I spent all that money on the matchmaker and found my partner through another route." That's eventually what happened. But it was all worth it. I didn't do it blindly and I will say that---without a doubt---I knew that within 18 months of writing that check, I was going to be in a committed relationship. After exerting every ounce of effort, after looking into all my options, I knew that the world would conspire to find me my soul mate. I didn't know whether it would be through the matchmaker or some other avenue, but I knew I'd find someone.

And he is worth every penny.

Give Me What I Want..Or Else

Probably the only great thing about planning a wedding is that I get to practice my negotiation skills. Especially with the recession, I'm golden. And the thrill of getting exactly what you want? Priceless!

Negotiation 101: I learned in my negotiations class (which I personally think was the most important class I took in b-school) is that if you're going to be a hard-ass, you'd better be willing to walk away. Well, Vendors, I'm here to tell you...I am so ready to walk.

I really don't care if my wedding is in San Francisco or Scottsdale or Chicago or New York. It's about affordability and figuring out how to feed a ton of Filipinos without depriving my future children of a private school education. I don't care if my bouquet is fashioned out of aluminum cans and ribbons. I don't care for a bejeweled Monique Lhullier dress…although there is one that caught my eye for a whopping $10,995. But 10% off because it was a trunk sale. Wowweeee. What a deal!

So I've been all over the place, scouting out venues, reading Yelp reviews, impatiently staring at photographers' slide shows. I'll send my inquiry and very quickly get a response back with pricing information attached to a very nice personal email. "We'd love to be your [FILL IN VENDOR TYPE] at your wedding!!! Please let us know if you have any questions at all!!!" Lots of exclamation marks, lots of smiley faces. Very nice. Everyone has been pleasant and nice.

Then the controlled stalking starts. "Just checking to see if you got my last email. Keep in mind anything can be customizable. I'm happy to work with you to meet your needs."

Perfect. How can I get you for free?

A week or two later, the panic sets in. "Hey Catherine, I'd love to do your wedding. Right now, I'm running a special. If you book by the end of the month, I'll give you 20% off." You'd think this is only happening with smaller vendors. Nope, even the larger ones are caving. I have a 5-star hotel offering to completely eliminate their $5,000 site fee and discount their $225/person menu down to $200. Not too shabby for a place that insisted they book up quickly for weddings. Ummmm….sure.

Then then are the people who have gone off the deep end---like the florist who has given me three separate quotes. Each time the quote is half the previous quote. Please Ms. Florist, have some self-respect. Believe in your product/service and price accordingly. I feel like writing her a check and telling her, "Let's make a deal. Centerpieces, bouquets, boutonnieres, flower petals. I want all of that for $100. Yes? Done."

One last point I want to make about negotiating is that if you drive a hard bargain and get what you want, you always risk damaging the relationship. What's great about wedding vendors is…I have no established relationship with them. Game on!

Things that Make Me Happy

I should be in a good mood since I'm almost fully recovered from a weekend of illness, but I'm glum. Lots of pressure just building up with work, Burning Man responsibilities, getting my newbie fiance to the Burn safely and making sure he's comfortable, transporting myself from the middle of the desert during the Burn to get to a wedding in Santa Fe, checking my tenant out and trying to get a new tenant in before I leave for the Burn, my own wedding planning, vendors pressuring me, my loan officer calling about last minute paperwork to finalize my third refi...I'm about to lose it. I know, I say that a lot.

When all is stressful in the world, I can count most of all on Dean. Dean is perfect for me because he's drama-free, laid-back, and constantly makes me laugh. He's also really thoughtful. He drops me off at work and picks me up. Every few days, there's a ribbon-wrapped box of milk chocolate truffles on our living room table.

I also love:

Scented Candles--My favorite ones are the Capri Blue candles you can get at Anthropologie. They're reasonably-priced and powerful-smelling.

Wine--Cheap wine will do. My favorites are Little Penguin and any of the red varietal Two Buck Chuck Charles Shaws from Trader Joe's. Anyone who disses Two Buck Chuck blindly buys wine based on price.

Jumble--I play Jumble every day. http://jumble.com/games/info/13

Steam Rooms--When I'm having a bad day, I'll go to the Club One at the Fairmont Hotel. Or if you've got a day to kill, hanging out at Burke Williams at The Westfield is pure luxury.

Going Out--Spruce, Nopa…but mostly I like checking out new places since I've lived here my whole life and the city can get really boring. Dean and I like the new Rickhouse that opened up on Kearny.

Facebook--My Facebook usage has taken a turn for the worse, but I do love looking at pictures and videos of my friends' children. It's so hard for me to keep track of everyone, I love spending my down time seeing my friends' kids grow.

Bookstores--I would like to live in a bookstore.

Blame the Recession

On my way to work, I walked by a restaurant with a sign posted, "Due to the recession, we were forced to close our business."

Who else out there is tired of everyone whining and using the recession as the scapegoat?

The restaurant was called 'Medicine.' Maybe they were forced to close because of very bad branding? Who wants to go to a place where the food tastes like medicine? Maybe they had a bad business model, a bad marketing program, bad management. Possibly? You think? No, of course not. It's obviously the recession's fault. Just blame it on the recession.

Then there are the unemployed, whining because they got laid off. Maybe you were an underperformer? Quite possibly? No one thinks to question their performance, scratching their heads, "I have no idea why I got laid off. It's so not fair!" Maybe because you suck?!

I've been there. In 2001, I was working for a startup. It was on financial life support. The company wasn't making any money. We weren't closing any deals. And everyone was making really good money. Hmmmm, how long can a company afford to pay high salaries without making a profit! I got laid off in the second or third round of layoffs. I knew my skills weren't critical. There were other peers who performed better.

I was lucky. I saw the writing on the wall and knew I was destined to walk the technology plank. I took action and applied to business school when layoffs started. A few weeks after I was laid off, I got accepted to b-school. It worked for me because I planned it that way.

But I know for a fact that if the plan hadn't worked, I would have pounded the pavement for a job. With the exception of two friends who were laid off, I don't see anyone else pounding the pavement. And hence…their situation.

I blogged about this story previously, but it is worth repeating here.

Last night before the movie, I went to one of the food kiosks at the Metreon. While waiting for my food, a man walked in bundled up in a sweatshirt and baseball cap; his hands were stuffed in his pockets. He was speaking Spanish. I don't know Spanish or understand it which is a horrible thing as a California girl. I hate to admit it. But I was able to piece together what he was saying. He wanted a job and he'd been walking throughout the Metreon asking managers if they were hiring. The cashier told him they were not. He insisted he speak to the manager. The manager came out and chatted with him in Spanish. "I'm sorry sir, we do not have a kitchen here. We're not hiring and even if we were, we don't hire cooks. We heat up the food." The man looking for a job kept asking questions, did the manager know of anything, could the manager talk to anyone at the Metreon? Anything at all? While nothing came of the conversation, I felt so proud of that immigrant. What persistence! That is what makes America truly great: people from all walks of life who are ready and willing to work hard and seek out those opportunities.

Take responsibility, people. Own up to your situation and make the necessary changes. Stop making excuses lest we all wear signs on our backs, "Due to every single excuse I can think of, this is the life that I lead."

Hot air ballooning in Cappadocia, Turkey

This is What Happens When You Live Together

You get each other's illnesses. Dean was sick last week and I think I did a good job of nursing him back to health. I swear by Tom Yum soup--extra extra spicy.

Dean got better while I got worse. I woke up Saturday morning with a sore throat that has now turned into a slight fever. This is the worst week at work to be sick. So I focused all my efforts today on making myself feel better.

I've been sucking on a combination of Cold Eeze zinc lozenges, Sucrets Vitamin C and Zinc lozenges, Halls Vitamin C and Echinacea lozenges. I went and got a one hour, $43 massage in Chinatown. And I had my Tom Yum soup. But it's still lingering.

I even did a little bit of retail therapy post-massage at Union Square. You know how you always find something when you don't want to find anything?  Well, I finally found a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes.  I've been dying for a pair ever since I became a fan of Sex in the City.  Saks was having a designer sale and the hot pink heels were 60% off.  They're actually very reasonable--I'm not just saying that.  So cute.  You will see me wear them every night out, including my rehearsal dinner and wedding.  White gown with hot pink shoes.  Can't beat it!

I'm taking an Ambien and getting 10 hours of sleep tonight right after Entourage.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

It all starts with a rock. A big, shiny rock.

I've latched onto Dean's Facial Fuel Lotion for Men and wanted to pick us up more at Saks. While browsing the Kiehl's medicine cabinets, the cosmetics gal from La Mer made her way over to me. "That ring. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous."

I smiled happily, "I know, huh? I picked it!"

Fellas, do yourself a favor and have your future wife pick out her own ring--a ring she's going to wear on her finger every day for the rest of her life. Let's hope she says yes.

I spent hours online. Bluenile, Tiffany's, Borsheim's, online vintage jewelers. I thought for sure I was going to get a vintage Tacori style ring online. But then I started browsing jewelry stores in Union Square, at the Westfield. I walked into Derco at the Westfield and the guy said, "We don't have any engagement rings here, but go to our store at the Gift Center."

That's where I found my ring. I think that's where everyone in San Francisco shops, too. I'd never heard of Derco, but the place is packed with crowds of people leaving with dark blue gift bags--a slight twist on Tiffany's turquoise.

Great selection, unbeatable prices. Save yourself thousands of dollars and put that money toward an open bar. Get your engagement ring at Derco. I'm even thinking of going back and getting a pair of earrings.

Sponsored by Bridezilla

The cards and emails read, "This will be the best time of your life.  Enjoy!"

Instead, I'm miserable.  I didn't feel this way until I started to dig into the numbers.  My friends comment, "You look so unhappy.  Look at how you're sitting."

My arms are crossed and I'm glaring, trying to take it all in.  I can't stop thinking about it. My face is overheating.  When did it become ok to spend so much money?  My mental calculator is on fire.

What if I posed it this way?  I want every bride out there to answer this question.  If you had to write a check for half of the expenses of your wedding, would you have done anything differently? As a matter of principle--not because my fiance wants me to--but as a matter of principle, I insisted on splitting the bill.  I want every single bride-to-be and every former bride to tell me if she would make different decisions knowing that she was personally spending all of that money. Would you still spend several thousand dollars on flowers?  Would you still spend more than several thousand dollars on a photographer?  Mind you, it's your money.  Not mom and dad's, not your husband's...your very own money.

Tell me what you think.

That's what I grapple with when each photographer tells me it's going to cost at least $4,000 to document my wedding.  That's why I'm seething when the catering proposal comes in at $20,000 and it doesn't even include an open bar.  

Think, question, challenge.  

We are on the cusp of signing the contract with a boutique hotel in Palm Springs.  But it just wouldn't feel right without one last final negotiation.  "We're so excited to work with you on our wedding.  I'm ready to sign now if you include two nights of the hotel suite.  Thanks Erin for all of your hard work on the proposal!"

Modern Day Job (The Biblical Guy)

Job is my favorite book in the Bible. It's about this devout man who endures horrible circumstances: poverty, famine, the death of his children, lots of physical ailments. I believe he even gets boils all over his body. It's a tragic story of someone who believed in God despite his miserable situation and who was ultimately rewarded for his faith. Whenever I felt like the world was against me, I picked up my Bible and turned to the Book of Job.

I’ve never been a history buff. I’m not really into dead people. I bet if you asked me some basic history questions, I would stare at you—totally clueless.

Last night, Dean and I watched a documentary—Teddy: In His Own Words—that was fascinating. Unless it’s Sunday night and Entourage is playing, I do not want to watch TV at all. I think TV is so mind-numbing. But I’ll sacrifice my reading time for documentaries. The Ted Kennedy documentary was gripping. Gripping because as much as you read about the sixties and the Kennedys, you can never understand the intensity of what was going on during that era through a text book. I was mesmerized by the historical footage of the Kennedy family in London with Joe Kennedy’s appointment as U.S. ambassador, canvassing for votes in Boston, the streets of small town Americana lined with people bowing and waving the American flag as the train carrying Bobby Kennedy’s body passes.

Ted Kennedy is the modern day Job. I really had no clue what tragedy that man has been through.

The death of his eldest brother Joe as a fighter pilot during World War II.
The death of his sister Kathleen in a plane crash.
The assassination of MLKJ.
The assassination of JFK.
The assassination of RFK.
His own survival in a plane crash.
Chappaquiddick and the death of Mary Jo Kopechne.
Pleading guilty to leaving the crime scene.
His own two children having cancer, with his 12-year-old son having to get his leg amputated.
His wife dealing with alcoholism and their eventual divorce.
Going out for drinks with his son and nephew, and his nephew Will Smith charged with rape that same night. Will was eventually acquitted.
Having your phones tapped because Nixon wants to get some dirt on you?

I mean, seriously. I would slash my wrists. Or, I’d go cuckoo. 4 siblings dead—two of whom were assassinated in office. And you’re a politician in office? Excuse me? I’ll take the next flight to the moon…and can you make sure I’m surrounded by a ton of secret service agents?

Unbelievable. What a tragic life.

Here are some of my other favorite documentaries. Submit a comment with your favorites.

Spellbound which documents the freakazoid geeks in the National Spelling Bee.

One Day In September, documenting the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich where the Israeli Olympians are held hostage and murdered by Palestinian terrorists. I actually wrote my final negotiation paper on this.

And of course, the popular ones: Super Size Me, March of the Penguins.

Wedding Economics

I like to make the comparison between the cost of a wedding versus an MBA. Why? Because I don't think I've ever thrown such gargantuan sums of money on anything except education, a home, my trusty two-door Honda Civic, and the Juicy Couture fur coat I got in NYC for 50% off. Even my beloved Apple Mac was less than a grand.

I spent less than $60,000 to get a graduate degree, affording me 3-months of living expenses with my internship, an internship bonus, sign-on bonuses, and job security. I'll even throw in the two years of living expenses that I had to take a loan out for. So let's add that all up to $120,000. 2 years = 730 days x 8 hours = 5,840 hours. Business school works out to $20.55 per hour. Not too shabby for lifetime job security.

The average wedding costs about $30,000. That's 1/4 of my two-year business school experience for a single day! $30,000 divided by 8 hours works out to $3,750 per hour. Do you know what a wedding affords you? Debt. It's the gift that keeps on giving. DEBT.

Ok, ok, so there are the memories. The lifetime memories captured within a leatherbound wedding album that you get in return for a photographer who'll charge you $4,000. If you can't make lifetime memories via a picnic in the park, a dinner with friends, a Thanksgiving meal, then you've got some serious issues.

I'll even throw out the fact that people come from wealthier backgrounds than I do. If your family wants to celebrate your love by footing the bill, then that's fantastic. Wish I could have been born a Getty.

When did it become acceptable in society to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a wedding? Even for the common person? I'm not buying it. I'm not going to care if my guests think my wedding feels cheap. I don't care if it's tacky to holler into a bullhorn and scream, "Alrighty, peeps. One more hour until the open bar closes. Let's drink that bar dry!"

You don't have to throw money down the toilet to celebrate your marriage. And I'm going to prove it.

Taking the Plunge

There are the men who told me they loved me--and everyone in-between. Of course, there are my gay best friends, my non-gay best friend, and my non-gay dad. But they don’t count for this purpose since their love for me is purely on a friendship or father/daughter level.

On a romantic level, my four boyfriends loved me. Boyfriend #1 told me after a plutonic dinner as co-workers. He said it as if he was commenting on the steak. "I love you." No expectations. No need for the words to echo back.

The subsequent two boyfriends said them begrudgingly. I'm sure I forced them with my immature antics. "My first boyfriend told me he loved me right away. Don't you feel the same way?" Even if I forced them, at least they said it. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted them to love me.

I'm sure there are others. I can't really recollect. Except I remember laughing when some guy told me he loved me after a few dates. "You're ridiculous. How do you know you love me after a few dates?"

"I do. I feel it."

I never returned his calls, yet here I am--many years later--getting engaged after a few months. Maybe the poor guy wasn't so ridiculous after all.

I remember meeting Boyfriend #4 Dean (now fiance) at Amelie wine bar in Russian Hill. He was outgoing and funny--exactly the type of personality I meshed with. We ended the night with slices of pepperoni pizza. Orangey grease dripped down the wax paper. I didn't give any credence to his promise to call me the next day. "Sure," I shrugged. "Whatever. Call if you want." It was a fun night. No expectations for the future.

I'd learned to shield myself from disappointment after a magical first date gone wrong at Florio on Fillmore. After walking side-by-side back to my car, I gushed, "So when are you going to call me again?"

His head dropped. "Catherine, sorry, I don't think it's going to work out."

My cheeks flushed red in stunned surprise. I shoved my hand into my purse for the car key, threw myself into the driver seat, and cried, "Did that just fucking happen to me?"

There are the men who told me they loved me. Conversely, there are the men who told me in so many words that they did not.

Dean called the next morning, shocking me out of bed, but shocking me even more when he continued to call every day after that. And now we're heading down the aisle a year from now: Saturday June 12, 2010. It's his parents' wedding anniversary and six days before my 35th birthday. We have a lot to celebrate.

Paragliding above the Blue Lagoon, Turkey

Vixen Vignettes: Chapter Two

I used to write a blog called Vixen Vignettes until today. Since April 2005, I wrote as regularly as I could, documenting my life as a single girl in San Francisco post-business school. For a long time the blog was public (just like this one will be), but then I made it private for professional and personal reasons. To the select group who had access, you know my truth--the eccentricities (I heart bugs), the addictions (chocolate chip cookies and alcohol), love, and heartache. Ouch, such heartache! Oh, what fun I had! Thank you for your continued readership.

After one miserable breakup after another, I reached for my laptop and poured my heart out. Even though I had commitment issues and failed relationships, I was always committed to writing. Intent on publishing, I still persevered despite the rejections from editors.

This is the next chapter--one blog's unveiled continuation. No longer single, finally committed...and still writing as always. Let's get started.

xoxo,
vixen