Games are fun!!

I went to a games event the other day. It’s exactly what it sounds like, a bunch of people get together and play a bunch of games. I’ve been to a few of these now, the type of games vary; this time it was mostly trivia because there were so many people playing.

Since there were so many people, that may or may not know each other, the hosts started us off with “Mingle Bingo”. Basically you have a bingo card and you have to make a pattern. The squares have questions, like “Who drives a 2-door vehicle” and “Name a single child”. In order to try and be one of the winners, you have to go around and ask people questions. It was surprisingly fun.

One of the questions was “Who rents property”. It started out that I was volunteering this information; I’d be talking with someone, looking at what they needed on their card and see that square empty. I’d say “I rent” and they’d fill it in. Soon enough, people are seeking me out to ask me if I rent. I didn’t think much of it until this guy, that I’ve met a few times, came up to me:

C: Hey, Heather, do you rent?

TWG: Yeah, I do.

C: I thought so…

TWG: What?!

C: You seem like someone that would rent…

TWG: What the fuck is that supposed to mean??!

C: I dunno… *looks around and then lowers his voice* It’s just that, you know, white people get kicked out of home when they're adults.

I was pleased he was going by stereotypes, for a minute there, I thought I wore my “inappropriate” t-shirt.

I guess I should mention that the friend hosting this party is Asian. There were 50 people there by the end of the event, I was one of three white people. The other two whiteys were a couple, with kids in tow. No wonder everyone was going up to the single white chick to fill this square.

My hosts had a number of snacks available for guests, one of these snacks was a cup of instant noodles. I walked into the kitchen to grab a drink when the other white girl stopped me and asked if I knew how to operate, what I can only describe as, the hot water maker.

No, it’s not a kettle. It’s a contraption I’ve never seen before. I uselessly mashed buttons and when I realized that I (still) had no idea, I said the first thing that came to mind.

I turned around and found an Asian girl standing nearby. I asked her if she knew how to operate the hot water maker. She did it without blinking an eye and made it look like second nature. I turned to the other white girl and said “See? You just asked the wrong person”.

She politely smiled and went about making her cup of noodle, all the while avoiding eye contact. Fuck. I made an ass of myself. Again. When I turned around, this guy I never met before was looking at me with a funny look on his face.

I was afraid I was going to be reprimanded.

I was really glad he was amused.

Like I said, most of the games were trivia and, for some reason, I tend to do fairly well at these. We had a “battle of the sexes” round, where all the girls go in a room and are asked questions that most guys would know the answers to and vice versa.

The girls had no idea. The last two questions were being asked, we hadn’t gotten one right and the pressure was mounting. We had to get at least one!

Q1: What does RAM stand for? I didn’t hesitate: “Random Access Memory!”. One point for the girls. We learned that the guys also had one point. Tie game. We had to get the next one.

Q2: Which movie involves a diamond heist where the men involved use nicknames based on colours? Again, I didn’t hesitate “Reservoir Dogs!!”. Because, ironically enough, having not seen that movie for years, I started watching it the night before. I didn’t make it through the entire movie, but I watched enough to learn the characters “nicknames” (Mr. White!) and that diamonds were involved.

So… we won! Suddenly I had a reputation; I carried my team.

The winning team got to pick an envelope; inside the envelope was “money”; the money could be used for purchasing something in an auction at the end. I raked in $222.

During the auction, people were out-bidding each other over $100-$150. I didn’t seem to care; I wasn’t even participating. Then the 5th prize came out – all the prizes were in gift bags so you didn’t know what you were going to get. I had a feeling about Bag E, so I bid $50; someone upped it to $60; I said $75; they said $80. Enough of this… $222!!

I got the prize. When I opened the gift bag I nearly peed myself from containing my laughter.

Most appropriate prize ever.

Adventures in Real Life Dating–part 3 (?)

I’ve brought you installments on real life dating stories in the past. Like NutJob & Cruper (who, incidentally, texted me on Boxing Day wishing me a Merry Christmas. Nearly 16 months since our one and only date. Nearly 16 months since I stopped responding to his texts. Nearly 16 months since I told him to leave me alone. Not that I’m keeping track or anything).

Well, I have a few more for you. (Just when you thought that I wouldn’t have any new stories because I quit POF).

First up:

This one isn’t really a dating story, but it could have been, so I’m going with it. I met him at a skytrain station well over a year ago (you meet all the “good ones” on public transit). He approached me and said “I just want to say that I think you’re cute and you have a really nice smile.”. I thanked him and we chatted a bit. I wasn’t sure if he was kind of drunk, or mildly retarded. He asked for my phone number. I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I gave him a fake number (not entirely fake, just the last few digits mixed around). Not one of my finer moments, but that’s what I did.

Two weeks later, I have a voicemail on my phone. It was from a guy that sounded either kind of drunk, or mildly retarded. I kid you not.

I shared this story with a friend at work, and he coined a nickname for the guy: my Autistic Stalker.

Fast forward a year. I was at the Salsa club a few months back when this guy approached me with a big old grin on his face. I didn’t think much of it; he looked familiar, so I figured he was going to ask me to dance. I just didn’t realize how I knew him. As soon as he opened his mouth I knew. He didn’t even have to finish his sentence. “I just want to say that I think you’re cute and you have a really nice smile.”. So it was his line…

Next up:

I met him at dance several months ago. I “affectionately” call him El Retardo. But don’t let the name fool you; he’s not Latino.

I met him, we danced, he hit on me and asked for my number. I gave it to him.  We ended up agreeing to meet the Sunday before I went to Thailand. It was the most annoying build up to a date ever.

We were supposed to meet at a coffee shop in the mall. The mall closed at 6pm, we were meeting at 8pm; when I told him and suggested another location, he dismissed it and said we would “figure it out”. I was a few minutes late and rolled into the parking lot he said he was in around 8:05; he was nowhere to be seen. He rolled in at least 20 minutes after I did. I was annoyed. Then we started driving around the mall parking lot trying to find some place to go. They were all closed. Didn’t see that one coming.

I decided to let it go and continued trying to find time to connect. I say “trying” because it would take weeks for us to be able to make plans. He was a flake at best. We would make plans for “tomorrow” and then he’d ask what day we were getting together. When I told him tomorrow, he’d ask for another day because he was confused and busy tomorrow.

Other times, he’d ask if I was available to meet on a Wednesday around 10am, even though I repeatedly told him I work Mon-Fri dayshift. Then there were the times he’d ask me to meet him that night; I wouldn’t respond right away because I was at work and hadn’t gotten the text. When I would respond saying “Sure, when and where?”, I would get a response saying that I took too long to respond so he made other plans, accepted a shift at work, or went swimming and is tired now.

I had put him into the friend zone weeks earlier because I was tired of dealing with that bullshit, yet, he kept trying to make plans with me so that we could “figure us out”.

Eventually, we had plans to meet to figure us out; he indicated that he made plans before we were supposed to meet (like the quality gentleman he is) and was going to be a little late. Like at least an hour late. I’d already made plans for after and told him that being an hour late was too late. I never heard from him again. Really looking forward to that awkward moment when we’re both at the Salsa club at the same time.

Last up:

Shorty. You might remember him from my last post. He repeatedly told me that he liked dancing with me and wanted to “be my friend”. He gave me his business card because he happens to be a mechanic and told me that he’d help me if I ever had car trouble. Not a bad friend to have, so when he asked for my number, I gave it to him, even though I knew I’d be having the “friend talk” sooner rather than later.

The night after we met, he texted me and asked if I was going to go dancing. I said maybe and asked where he was going. He was going to dance at a hotel in Surrey (ironically, Thailand’s hotel). Between not wanting to give Shorty the wrong idea, being tired and also not wanting to face the awkwardness of running into Thailand (especially with a little munchkin following me around); I declined his invitation.

The next day, Shorty texted me and asked how I was doing. I asked him how dancing was on Saturday night. He said “All good. But I missed you…”

Seriously? You miss the girl that you met two days ago?? Looks like I’ve got another one on my hands. The only silver-lining to this one is the fact that he doesn’t speak much English. How is that a plus? Purely from an entertainment stand-point; getting texts like these ESL gems:

“Has dance classes is good”

“Salsa has an inquiry to please as we dance”

“You do on the job”

“And who did you do today?”

Your Mama!!! … … oh wait… that doesn’t really work as ThatWhiteGirl’s response.

A post about dancing, because you can never have too many of those!

I’ve been out of the salsa game for awhile now. I stopped lessons back in April because of my course load at school, and I got out of the routine of going to the clubs when I put my back out in summer. My presence at the clubs has been sporadic at best for the past 4 months.

Two weeks ago, I went to my first lesson since April; I was embarrassingly rusty. My teacher, the one who taught me back in April, is doing a “teach at the level of my students” kind of lesson plan instead of just beginner, intermediate or advanced kind of structure. Of the four people in my class, I’m definitely the noob and he was teaching above my skillset. So it’s not all my fault. Regardless, it has prompted me to get back in the game and have an outlet for practicing.

As a result, I went dancing Friday night for the first time in quite some time. When I got there, the lesson was still going on even though it should have been finished. I grabbed a drink and waited for it to wrap up. When it did, I wandered down to the dance floor to look for a partner, but there wasn’t many people there and all of the guys were dancing with the girls they had the lesson with. I stood there for three or four songs before I ended up ‘circle dancing’ with a bunch of girls.

I was convinced that it was going to be an early night at the club and that I’d end up stopping in at my neighbourhood pub for a couple drinks before heading home. Then one of the guys asked me to dance, and then another, and then another. Before I knew it, I was getting pulled back onto the dance floor before I even had a chance to leave it.

Being a Latin dance, quite a few of the patrons are of Latin descent, naturally. Latinos are not usually particularly tall. I am fairly tall for a girl, so I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I am usually taller than my dance partner, especially when you consider that I also dance in heels. I don’t mind, they don’t mind, so it’s all good. Except that there are certain styles of dance that require you to be at the same level as your partner. Since they can’t get up to mine, I have to get down to theirs.

It’s basically like doing squats for 5 minutes straight, without the relief of being able to stand upright in between squats.

One of my partners the other night was particularly short. I mean, he is probably 5’3” at best. I’m 5’8” and I was wearing 2” heels. I towered over him. Doing the squat dance was particularly painful. Between the pain in my knees and my thirst, I decided to go to the bar to grab a drink and have a sit down. The bartender saw me and asked “The same?”; I said “No – could I have a glass of water, please?”. As he’s pouring my glass of water, the other bartender starts measuring out a shot of vodka; there isn’t anyone else at the bar.

I was confused, so I started slowly walking away; as I am, the bartender started saying “Wait, wait, don’t walk away!”. I was thinking “But I didn’t order a drink…”. She finished mixing the drink and said “This one is on-the-house; it’s from one of the clients”. Oh. Okay. Weird. That hasn’t happened here before. I had no idea who it was from.

I was sitting there, drinking my free drink and who walked up? Slick. Except he cut his hair off, so now he’s more like Spike. I barely recognized him. We chatted for a bit before he walked off to grab another beer. Then I was approached by two guys. One was young, kind of shy, and was basically hovering in the background while the other one talked to me. Chatty asked if I’d be willing to teach his nephew to dance. I did and he was super keen to learn.

When we made our way back to my table, Chatty asked how Nephew did; he thanked me for teaching him and said, as a thank-you, next time, he’ll dance with me all night. He made me shake on it. I’m not sure who will benefit the most from this arrangement. I guess I’ll find out next time when I discover how good of a dancer he is.

Today, I go back for lessons. Wish me luck!!

A Day in the Life…

Sometimes I find the thoughts that run through my mind thoroughly entertaining. Tonight was no exception. Here’s a glimpse into my everyday life.

I got off work late and drove home. As I walked in my front door, I noticed that it was particularly warm in my place. I live in a basement suite. It’s January and it just snowed. This is abnormal. I checked the heater that I recently bought (and works like a charm, I might add):

Even though this particular heater is supposed to be super safe, I’m still massively paranoid of burning my house down, so I tend to turn it off when I leave, even though that means my house is less than toasty when I get home from work.

I started preparing dinner, while my chicken cutlet was frying over medium heat, I sat down to check my email. Shortly after, I heard the tell-tale noises of a hot pan. I went to check on my dinner, flipped over the cutlet and found that side nearly completely charred.

Funny how I was more concerned about my heater being a fire hazard when left unattended, but I had no problem leaving oil in a hot pan unattended. The irony was not lost on me.

I then had to open my front door (no hood fan on my stove) so I could get all the smoke out of my place. While simultaneously removing all of the heat that had built up by my first fire hazard.

As I was cooking, I decided that I wanted a cup of tea, but since it was 8pm, I couldn’t very well have the tea I wanted. I typically drink black tea, which is caffeinated, which will keep me up all night if I drink it at 8pm. So I brewed a cup of this “fruit infusion” “tea”. It was ready around the time I was plating up my charred cutlet. I added a bit of sugar and milk (how I normally drink my tea) to this hot beverage.

A quick glance in my cup and all seemed well. I thought to myself “Well, it didn’t curdle so it should be good”, just as I watched the tea turn from milky tea to tea with milk chunks.

Adventures in online dating–part 3

I know you guys find it hilarious when I recall my online dating stories. (see this, this, or this for a laugh). But I’m here to tell you that you won’t be hearing them for awhile. I’ve officially hidden my POF account, in other words, I’m not actively looking for blog fodder anymore. Well, from that avenue anyway. Here’s why.

There are many types of guys on the site, and a few of those types are ones that I have no interest in meeting and/or are in no way interested in meeting me:

1) Mr. Fit

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t want Mr. Opposite-of-This, but this guy is more likely to tell you how many times a week he works out, what high protein diet he is on or how much he can bench-press before he tells you what kind of music he likes. He also makes it very well known that he is only attracted to very fit, athletic women. “I take excellent care of myself and so should you”. Contrary to the pictures on here, I’m not a big blue ball of a woman, but I’m also not a size 2.

2) Mr. Angry

This guy spends his entire profile telling you what kind of girl he doesn’t want. Which is almost as important as knowing what you do want, but he does it so angrily that you’re left wondering what happened to him in his life to make him that way.  “If you’re one of those bitches that just wants me for my money, keep walking!!!”. Okay… Well, I’m not one of those bitches, but I’m going to keep walking anyway. Thanks for coming out. (*Note – likely would have actually read: If your one of those…)

3) Mr. Needy

Need I say more? This is the guy I tend to meet, probably because he openly admits that he’s looking to meet someone for a relationship. It’s not always obvious that the term “a relationship” can be replaced by “my world to revolve around”.

4) Mr. Player

This profile has multiple bathroom mirror pictures with varying degrees of shirts-off, his listed interests include “hanging out, women and having fun”, his actual profile has “will fill this out later” copy and pasted however many times is necessary for POF to decide he has written enough about himself.

I think it’s pretty obvious that the internet dating game has jaded me once again. I think I have to go back to attempting to meet someone in real life. It’s more fun anyway. Also more likely to cause problems and/or make bad decisions, but that’s what life is about, right?? Right?