Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing because as I was one of the few people who could make it into work today, it was a pretty slow day and on slow days I mostly futz around with AdWords copy and surf around “learning” about CSS and javascript. And then it occurred to me as I mistyped a .com. Someone needs to create a new domain.

Then we could be sad-sigh.vom

Dennis asked me to instead post about my schadenfreude over his lost wallet.  Well, it wasn’t exactly schadenfreude.  It was more like…recognizing a Sad Sigh opportunity.  Without having any sympathy.

I blame Grace for the death of my compassion and for me being a jerk.

I got mine though, as I woke up this morning with a terrible migraine.  Dennis, for this I blame you.  Oh, and sorry about you being robbed.

At the beginning of 2008, I made a deal with myself that I would put myself “out there” more (read: internet dating). Turns out, “out there” is a scary, scary place, full of insecure boys and terrifying facial hair. I have officially closed the Internet Dating Experiment because, in the end, this is what I got:

1. One relationship with a dude who told me he was interested in polygamy.

2. Three dates with someone who got progressively more insane as the evenings wore by, getting horrifically drunk on our last date and professing that he loved me. LOVED me. After a week and a half of knowing me.

3. A failed relationship with someone whose parting shot at me was that I was too smart to be dateable and who may or may not have had a small heart attack while we were having sex.

Sigh.

On top of which, I now have 4 weddings to attend in the latter half of 2009, and no one to attend with me, nor am I likely to meet anyone in Seattle, haven for the aggressively shy indie boy, a male type that drives me completely batty (except when this type comes in the form of the older brother of a high school chum, who I delight in flirting with as much as possible to make him feel uncomfortable). Another high school friend is engaged, and I seem to be the only person left from high school not in any sort of serious relationship. And, in the end, this blog is about making my high school friends feel extremely awkward with me oversharing, so I’m going to admit something on this blog that I would never, ever admit in person.

I AM AFRAID OF DYING ALONE.

Well, I left L.A. And now I’m practically unemployed. So today after dropping my mom off at work I went to my favorite townie place: Target. I was surprised at how busy the store was for a Tuesday morning. But even more surprising were the people who were out and about while most were stuck in offices. The majority were women, but they were different. They were saggy, and frumpy, and old. Not necessarily in a gross way, but just in a natural way. It kind of blew my mind. In L.A. I always had a complex being so casually dressed while dining next to the stars - if you count Tom Arnold as a star, like I was that kid in school with the ill-fitting hand me downs (my ill-fitting clothes were self-purchased, thank you very much). But here, at Target - granted, it was Target - I felt like there was no pressure and no judgment. In my ultra light weight running shoes, jeans that need a belt, and collegiate hoodie that shouldn’t be worn outdoors, I fit right in.

It was just so weird to see so many regular people during the day, not on a weekend, not wearing designer clothing whilst toting mini dogs in handbags. It’s not just a townie phenomenon. Even in S.F. there are fewer obvious douchebags milling about. Everyone knows how much I hated being in L.A. and how it made no sense for me to have stayed there so long. Here, and I’m sure just about anywhere, I feel oddly comfortable after having been so miserable for eight L.A. years. Right now, for reasons unknown, it feels good to be back in the Bay Area, living at home at age 26, and being relatively unemployed. I made the right decision to leave L.A. and get away from a life of the rich and famous. My fate was sealed when I walked an old Chinese lady to Aisle 26 to help her find Preparation H.

11.26.08 - Queenstown - ADVENTURE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!!!!

The moniker is their’s and self imposed, so I feel obligated to shout it as loudly as I please in my sarcasto-blog.Got up late and headed to town filled with dread.  Puttered, (literally, puttered), about while I was waiting to get to the NZone offices so they could take me to the drop point.  Once there, I was briefed, made to put on a ridiculous flight suit, and then given over to my Tandem Master, Ricky.  Ricky, (who was sporting a bitchin’ ‘Mo’ in support of Movember, was not the flying fox that I’d hoped for, but was very good with me, and did a good job reassuring any of my anxieties.  However, it did get very homoerotic at certain points, when he instructed me to sit on his lap, while he felt me up.  Once we were ’strapped in’, I was to be the first one out of the plane, (out of 3 of us), and we tipped to the left, and that was it.  I’m not going to describe the skydive itself, as it was not Sad Sigh material, but I will describe the awful, bruising sensation that the harness made as soon as the cord was pulled.  OMGina, my inner thighs will never be the same.  I STILL feel like I was rode hard and put away wet.  I literally couldn’t talk the entire way down, (there are about 6 minutes after you pull the cord to the time that you land), and actually contemplated losing my harness and plummeting to the earth to end the pain on my tender bits.

After that, I got back to town, did a street luge, saw some live kiwis (they’re much, MUCH bigger than you’ve ever expected.  And FAST.  I bet if they weren’t in enclosures, they would have attacked me, given my luck).  And then I called it a night on account of oldness.  Too much excitement for these old bones.

11.27.08 - Fox Glacier, Franz Josef

Traveled from Queenstown - ADVENTURE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!!!!!!!! - to Fox Glacier, one of the world’s only advancing glaciers (pronounced ‘glassiers’.  Fell on my ass multiple times.  The worst part was that I’d decided to wear my board shorts, because they were quick-drying, and realized too late that not only were my board shorts sized a bit gayer than regular board shorts, but that they were the exact same color as the hoodie that I’d decided to wear.  At least when I took off the hoodie, I managed to get some sun, with no ridiculous tan lines, but my still-bleeding hand might not see that as a bonus.

We ended the day in Franz Josef, a town of 500, where my hotel/hostel’s room had a shower that was operated by push-button technology.  This is akin to those sinks that never stay on long enough for you to get the soap off your hands.  Except shower sized.

Dudes.  It is EXTREME down here in Queenstown.

Or at least that’s what the marketing would have you know.

I awake at 5:45am, (blerg), to head out for my skydive, (glurg), only to learn that it has been canceled on account of the weather.  Curse you, RAAAAAAIIIIIIIN!!!!!!!  (shakes fist)  Yes, folks, it has rained 4 out of the 5 days we’ve been in New Zealand.  Why?  Because God Hates Me, that’s why.  For more evidence of this, please see further down in the post when I talk about my ‘Paradise Found’ journey.So… I’m already up at 7:00am, with nothing really to do until about 1:30, so what do I decide to do?  Blog.  (SAD!)  Folks, I have officially spent more of my vacation with you guys than I have with hot Kiwis and their rugged outdoorsy, mustachioed ilk.  I should shoot myself.

Even more with the shooting?  This ‘Paradise Found’ tour that I did in the afternoon.  Billed as a scenic 4WD tour of the areas surrounding Lake Wakitipu, including a number of LOTR locations, I was kind of ready for a bit of relaxing, seeing beautiful scenery, and generally nerding out.  Little did I know that we’d have the spawn of Satan on our trip.  One girl from our tour, (who shall remain nameless), decided that she would ask our driver/guide to stop the car and open the windows for her/let her out of the car every 5 minutes so she could take a picture of the next ‘awesomely beautiful’ thing.  List of awesomely beautiful things: Sheep.  Cows.  Plants.  Sunshine.  Water, (any type).  Rainbows.  Horses.  Mosquitos.  Bees.  Rocks.  I’m not kidding here.  And whenever we weren’t being asked to stop, we were treated to an endless sermon about how we were all extremely blessed to be here, and being given these gifts by God.  The thing was, many of the things that we saw were indeed very pretty, and some of them were actually awesomely beautiful, but the endless prattle and lesson in Christian Theology may have been a bit of downer.  I couldn’t even enjoy the LOTR shots that we were treated to, (they were practically ripped right out of the movie).

What’s even better is that when our awesome guide, Mike, took us to a cafe at the end of the day to treat us to coffee, the subject of conversation somehow got on the topic of careers and I told them that I used to be an actor.  Upon finding this out, God Girl gets very excited and tells me that a good friend of hers is an actor, but, and she wanted to pick my brain on this, he was only getting offered ‘Homosexual roles; you know, in homosexual movies.’  The massive battle that played in my head was probably pretty visible to everyone else at the table, but, (and God, you owe me for this one), I manned up and refrained from punching her in the throat.

Nighttime - Not much to Sad.Sigh about, because we had a lot of fun.  Went to a bar called Minus 5, in which it’s minus 5 celsius, and everything is made of ice… you know… an ice bar.  Was delicious, and I didn’t get any ice shards in my eye, (mainly because the shards couldn’t find my eye).  Really the only sad thing of last night was that I’m really starting to like our ‘Day Song’.  Every Contiki tour has a ‘Day Song’ that functions as a running theme song to get people pumped up in the morning.  And then the tour leaders make sure to play it at night at the bars we go to.  Ours is ‘All Summer Long’ by Kid Rock.  I know.  You can hit me when I get home.

Here’s the layout:

Antipodean slang word:

Approximate English meaning:

Why it makes me Sad:

Let’s go!Antipodean slang word: ‘Sweet-as’, (or anything-’as’)

Approximate English meaning: Very sweet, or, likewise, very anything.  Usually positive.

Why it makes me Sad: Because I still haven’t gotten over asking ‘Sweet-as what?’.  There’s no proper end to the phrase, ‘as’ is the end of the phrase, which, given my problems with syntax already, kind of gives me an aneurisym every time I hear it.  That being said, I’ll probably be obnoxiously saying it on end when I get back to the States.

Antipodean slang word: ‘No worries!’

Approximate English meaning: You’re welcome/No problem/Fuck you  (well… that last one only when said reaaaaally sarcastically)

Why it makes me Sad: ‘No worries’ is not hardly used in the manner I thought it was.  I use the phrase at home to mean, ‘it’s no bother, but it secretly bothers me, and now I’m going to fester about it, so fuck off’.  Here, it literally means ‘no worries’.  Very disturbing.  They also don’t use ‘you’re welcome’ at all.  This phrase has eaten that one.

Antipodean slang word: Full-on

Approximate English meaning: Awesome/Amazing/Intense/Crazy Good/Wicked

Why it makes me Sad: Because it makes me feel dirty, and think of dirty things.  Don’t ask me why.

Antipodean slang word: ‘Thisarvo’

Approximate English meaning: ‘Arvo’ meaning afternoon, ‘Thisarvo’ means this afternoon.

Why it makes me Sad: Because why can’t you just say ‘This Afternoon’???  I thought you guys were taught English by the Queen!  Oh wait, you’re all criminals, and islanders.  Forgot.  Sorry!

Antipodean slang word: ‘Brekkie’

Approximate English meaning: Breakfast

Why it makes me Sad: See above.

Antipodean slang word: ‘Boardies/Swimmies’

Approximate English meaning: Swim trunks/Board shorts

Why it makes me Sad: It makes me feel infantalized.  I know this is more of a cultural difference, (like ‘mum’ v. ‘mom’), but it still makes me sad.

Antipodean slang word: Movember

Approximate English meaning: The entire month of November, during which numerous Australian/Kiwi men take the opportunity to grow mustaches, (or ‘mo’s), to raise awareness and funds for prostate cancer and men’s mental health issues.  A very noble cause.

Why it makes me Sad: Because the Aussie/Kiwi worship of ‘Mo’s’ creeps me out to the Nth degree.

All that being said, I’m totally either going to disappear into the mountains of NZ and become a Queenstown townie, or I’m going to come back with all of their weird slang and phraseology, and be generally unbearable.

Get excited!

This is only half of what I need to post, but we’re in Queenstown for another 2 days, so I should be able to catch up soon.  (Also Sad.)11.20.08 - Bondi

Went for a run on the beach this morning.  While I pat myself on the back heartily for this, I should remind myself to never attempt to exercise whilst on vacation in the future.  Not only is it very, VERY bad form, but since I decided that the beach would be the best place to do this, to strained condition of my old man quads have made me want to die.

Other than that, the day was great!  Went tanning on the hostel’s amazing roof deck, chatted with a very pretty Canadian girl, a stunning very tall Spaniard, and Steve, the British spike-ear.  All three were lovely, and very good looking, so naturally, I felt very lovely and good looking by association.  (Take THAT Abe.  I’ll be as happy as I want on vacation, knowing full well that it will come back to bite me in the ass very soon.)

The Sad Sigh portion of this day was that I’ve really started to learn that these wrong-side-road drivers suck asshole.  I’m so confused as to which direction to look when I cross the street, that I end up rapidly turning my head both ways like a crazy bunny.  This causes me to a) get dizzy and b) not actually register when there are cars coming down the road, so I almost get run over anyway.

11.21.08 - Christchurch

Woke up at the ass end of dawn (5am) to catch a shuttle to the airport.  Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and all I wanted to do was die die die.  Got to the Sydney airport, (which is like an expanded Starbucks/Wagamama combo), and flew to Christchurch in New Zealand.  As we were flying across the South Island towards XChurch, and look down at NZ from the plane, it actually looks like you’re watching the LOTR dvd’s.  This is not the first time I will make a splendid nerd reference like that.

In Christchurch, at our hotel, we met up with HuiWon, (who we also went to Peru with, and is joining us for the NZ leg of the trip).  She immidately said something blunt, like, ‘your head looks funny’ or ‘oh, you’re still Asian, aren’t you?’  Because she is a bitch.  (Her words, not mine!)

Met our tour group, composed of 10,546 girls, and, like 4 dudes.  (This isn’t exactly true, but you know…)

Our tour leader, Nathan, likes to be referred to as ‘Pumbaa’, (yes, THAT Pumbaa), and didn’t really tell us altogether too much information about the trip, much to HuiWon and my chagrin.  Because I’m a workaholic, (don’t think that I haven’t also been checking my word e-mail every day and filing non-urgent e-mails, responding to some, and behaving like General Type A all throughout the trip), my first reaction was, ‘I could have planned this trip opener much better.’  Because that’s how I judge people and tours.  Sigh.  I’m boring, you guys.

Had dinner at XChurch’s ONE trendy restaurant, (actually, they have, like 5, but they’re all right next to each other on what XChurchians refer to as ‘The Strip’.  It was no Strip like we know them in the States), got pleasantly tipsy, and headed to bed.

11.22.08 - XChurch, Lake Tekapo, Lake Pukaki, Lake Ohau

Slept pretty strangely in XChurch.  First off, sharing the room with 2 complete strangers, one of whom was amazingly hyperactive, and one of whom was an accountant from Sydney.  Secondly, the bed that I was in was a bit like a giant block of foam, about 6′ x 4′ x 3′.  I kept sinking, and dipping to the side, and it made me very anxious about never being able to get back up again.  Not a completely unfounded fear.  Thirdly, throughout the night, we had, not one, but TWO random girls, (who’d been given the wrong keys), walk into our room, turn on the lights, and see three dudes sleeping in what they thought were their beds.  We had to yell at them, ‘WRONG ROOM’ and then toss fitfully and hope to go back to bed.

Headed out on the bus (or ‘Coach’… stupid Britishy-real-English), which had the most charming ‘new bus smell’ and proceeded to get the full schpiel from Nathan about what would be going on our trip.  This immediately and irrevocably made me feel bad for being so critical of the organization’s planning skills the day before, as the schpiel was about 2 hours long, and was best done on a 3 hour bus ride instead of on the night of arrival.

Stopped off at lakes Tekapo & Pukaki, (both glacial lakes, with weird swimming-pool-blue water), before finally arriving at Lake Ohau, (the Maori names for everything are, naturally, hilarious).  Lake Ohau was one of the biggest glacial lakes, and was a pretty spectacular sight.  But, other than that, nothing particularly Sad to report on.  (Sorry guys.  You must be fuming by now.)

I was going to take this moment to go on about Antipodean slang, but I think I’ll do that in a separate post, as this is already gargantuan, and I know nobody’s read this far, anyway.

Last week, Daniel and I had a townie afternoon that started with Rojoz and ended with wanting to die after shopping for a bit too long at Valley Fair and Santana Row. In between, we went to a tailor I had found on Yelp, one of the higher rated places in San Jose. I had four pairs of jeans to get hemmed, and Daniel had a hole that he wanted fixed. After a confusing conversation with two store owners he went ahead and decided that the “small patch” they would use plus sewing the hole shut would be a safe fix for his pricey designer duds.

The following Tuesday I went and picked up our jeans, paid, and went home. That’s when I saw it. The hot tranny mess they had turned Daniel’s jeans into. I called him, he didn’t pick up. I texted him, to try to soften the blow, and warned him I was not joking. I thought I had it bad that my jeans were hemmed slightly shorter than desired although they’re definitely still wearable. Daniel’s jeans, on the other hand, are highly questionable.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

I’m not really sure what is going on here, but it’s a confusion of thread and uncraftsmanlike conduct. It’s very possible that the thread will “melt away” when ironed, but something tells me that they either did not like Daniel’s attitude or they’re just completely moronic tailors who did not know how to fix the jeans and went apeshit. Anyway, this is Daniel’s first look at his ruined jeans and here’s hoping this can be reversed. Admittedly, if you’re not the victim, it’s pretty hilarious that you could walk into a tailor with a small problem and walk out with this. But for a tailor to botch a patch job this badly is fairly unreal.