cindy's world

Earlier, I was doing last-minute packing-slash-throwing-things-together-slash-cleaning, and dug out an old driver’s license. What’s unusual about this driver’s license, is that it’s not mine. It belongs to a guy who wooed me back in the BBS days. I had just been thinking about him yesterday morning, too.

What triggered the thinking was a morning talk radio show that I listen to while driving to work. The on-air personalities of this particular program are huge fans of the TV show “To Catch a Predator.” I’ve never caught one episode of this show, but I understand it to be a “Cops”-style reality show in which decoys posing as underaged online chat users get into an online rapport with adult men who hook up with minors they meet online. Then a meeting is planned, and upon his arrival to the meeting site the adult sexual predator is “surprised” by the host of the show, who reveals that the predator has been caught red-handed, then corners the predator with a “Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know we all know what you’ve done? Do you know how much trouble you’re in?” type interview. The predator, after denying things and playing dumb, eventually gets arrested.
So anyway, the morning program was interviewing the host of the show, and they got into the different types of sexual predators. The host says they’re pretty careful about misuse of the word “pedophile” because some of these predators would never go after underage kids if they were not on the online chat forum. Maybe this is their first underage attraction and it’s an “exception” to their rule. And then there are the types who would consistently pursue naive young kids on and offline, loiter around schools and playgrounds, and the internet is just one of their tools. “Ick,” I thought, “How can these victim kids not know adult contact like this is improper?” And then I gasped. I was one of those kids!

I’ve already blogged before about my BBS addiction when I was 16, 17. Now I thought about some of the guys who pursued me through that venue. Boys my age didn’t tend to like me (my mom said it’s because boys my age back then went for looks and it’s the older men, people I would meet as I got older, who would appreciate me because of my personality and other strong points), and the chat board was pretty much my only social exposure to other age groups. One guy head-over-heels was 21. John lived up in Northern Cal somewhere and worked in the tech industry. He was nice, and we’d chat online and on the phone a lot, but he wouldn’t ever send photos. Later that summer (between junior and senior year) he decided to drive through the nite to meet me. That did not go well. That was the origin of my still-present fear of tall skinny men. But that’s another story. Anyway, it was his license I found. He actually whipped it out and slid it across the table to me, saying, “Oh, I DO have a picture of myself! Here, you can have this license. It just expired.” I’ll bet he didn’t know I’m such a pack-rat. But 4 years’ age difference isn’t that big of a deal.

And then there was the 25 year-old later that summer, Phil. He lived closer, in Orange, and we also chatted on the phone a lot. I was more careful to stay reserved until I saw what he looked like in person, after my last experience. And I was surprised to find myself minisculy attracted to someone 8 years older than me. My mom was thrilled. 8 was the magic number to her. “He’s old enough to be mature and established, and he’d take care of you and not sweat the small stuff about you,” she said. I think she was just happy that he was Asian. He was also in the tech industry, and eventually also relocated up to Northern Cal due to his work. Silicon Valley, ya know. Chat boards were not mainstream back then, so most of the adults who’d know about them are in the industry. It was okay he moved away, because I was starting to feel the age difference. Prom, hip hop, school club affairs, that was all way removed for a 25-year-old. His world was work and grownups. Besides, there was this one night when he burped from 15 feet behind me and I smelled it a few seconds later. Ew. That’s more than sufficient to turn a 17 year-old off to the point where I requested that he take me home…and he refused. So I was stranded alone with him in his house for longer than I’d wanted. But that’s another story. But 8 years isn’t even the largest gap.

There was the 28-year-old who, unlike the previous two guys, was just plainly sexually attracted to me. I believe the “younger” two, after investing time into getting to know me, actually liked me for me. But Tony, he had a live-in girlfriend who I believe he was engaged to at some point. He had a very young son from a prior relationship or marriage. He’d tell me about his Asian fetish (altho both his prior relationships were with white women approximately his age), about how “you Asian girls’ skin is soooo soft” which he’d discovered while stationed in Asia with the armed forces earlier in life, and asked if he could be my “first.” Although I knew he was physically attracted to me from the way he talked to me and from the way he’d hug me too long in greeting and rub my back too sensuously during these unnecessarily long hugs to be platonic, I knew that when he wasn’t with me, he didn’t think about me, and had his eye on other pursuits as well. I never took him seriously. He ended up breaking up with his live-in 27-year-old girlfriend and getting together with a 17-year-old white girl, also from the BBS. I asked his ex how things have been for them, were they civil? She said they’re okay, and apparently the new girlfriends’ parents, despite having caught them making out in their backyard spa (obviously the girl lived at home w/her parents still), “are thrilled to have a 28-year-old dating their daughter. Go figure.”

I didn’t understand it then, but fast-forward to present-day. Last week while Mr. W and I were on our way to dinner with Mr. W’s neighbor (who’s a high school teacher), the neighbor was saying he didn’t get how adults could be attracted to high school students. To him, these kids were immature kids. “Maybe it’s because I have a daughter, it’s just disgusting to me,” he said.
Ever wielding the cattleprod, I asked, “So you’d be upset if your minor daughter dated an adult?”
“Oh, I’d be furious,” he said passionately.
“So you wouldn’t approve if your daughter were dating someone 14 years older than her?”
“No I wouldn’t approve! I’d MURDER him! That is SICK!” the neighbor exclaimed.
Mr. W turned around from the front passenger seat to take a side-glance at me in the backseat. “You’re NOT a minor!” he said.

I hadn’t seen Vanessa since before my birthday, which I didn’t realize until she brought me my birthday present last nite. I’d gone home right after work to pack for the weekend cruise, and Vanessa and I had talked ab0ut watching Transformers, so she drove down after I got done packing. We met up with James at The Yard House in Brea and I was handed two compact packages which unraveled to become this:

That little gift bag spewed Happy Bunny (TM) products! Vanessa must be Jim Benton‘s new best friend! I hadn’t gone to the Happy Bunny website in awhile and I did not know there was all this new stuff out there. Lollipops, candles in tins (at least that’s what we believe is in the tin that none of us were able to open), license plate frames, keyboard stickers, keychains, stationery, metal thermos, just to name a few. To even out the karmically-questionable Happy Bunny vibes, she included a pendulum kit for getting in touch with my inner Ethereal Cindy and/or the Other Side. Vanessa always knows just what to get to make someone feel like she was paying attention. Thanks, Vanessa! Everyone got me such great stuff this year, I’m spoiled sick.

Vanessa also treated me to the Transformers movie, for which I had yet to find a negative review from anyone I know who’s seen it, all of whom were in my Transformers TV cartoons generation. I remember the days when I would watch G.I. Joe and then Transformers right after that. Speaking of those two cartoons, the Transformers movie was actually like G.I. Joe meets Transformers. Meets The Iron Giant (which was a better movie). But as I was saying earlier, I have yet to read a negative review, so I won’t write my own. Maybe I’ll like it better the second time around, when I re-watch it with Mr. W.

Today is my Friday (as I am off tomorrow to sail the high seas to, uh, Ensenadas), so I’m posting a Friday ha-ha today. And also to say, “HA ha!” And of course, to help men understand women. Forwarded to me from a female coworker…

One day, when a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river, her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, “My dear child, why are you crying?”
The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water and that she needed it to help her husband in making a living for their family.
The Lord dipped His hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set with pearls. “Is this your thimble?” the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, “No.”
The Lord again dipped into the river. He held out a silver thimble ringed with sapphires. “Is this your thimble?” the Lord asked.
Again, the seamstress replied, “No.”
The Lord reached down again and came up with a leather thimble. “Is this your thimble?” the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, “Yes.”
The Lord was pleased with the woman’s honesty and gave her all three thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.
Some years later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and disappeared under the water. When she cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked her, “Why are you crying?”
“Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!”
The Lord went down into the water and came up with George Clooney. “Is this your husband?” the Lord asked.
“Yes!” cried the seamstress.
The Lord was furious. “You lied! That is an untruth!”
The seamstress replied, “Oh, forgive me, my Lord It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said ‘no’ to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad Pitt. Then if I said ‘no’ to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said ‘yes,’ you would have given me all three. Lord, I’m not in the best of health and would not be able to take care of all three husbands, so THAT’S why I said ‘yes’ to George Clooney.”
And so the Lord let her keep him.
The moral of this story is:
Whenever a woman lies, it’s for a good and honorable reason, and in the best interest of others. That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it!
Signed,
All Us Women

Last Saturday morning, Mr. W and I were out of the house at 7:30a to go line up for the 9:15a showing of Harry Potter in 3D at the Imax. I didn’t have expectations of the movie going in and I thought the movie was quite good (I like the young man that Harry is growing into, aesthetically speaking), but Mr. W and his female best friend (whom we met up with there along with her girlfriend) are Harry Potter fanatics and loved every minute. Of course they’d already read the books and couldn’t help commenting and revealing plot lines as the story unfolded on the 7-story high-def screen. The 3D effects were good; they did a solid 15 minute segment of a battle scene in 3D. Pretty neat experience.

After the movie, the four of us had lunch at P.F. Chang’s China Bistro, a first for me. I’d heard rave reviews of the place but had always been skeptical because it didn’t seem like it would be “real” Chinese to me. After eating there, my general impression of the place is that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, but the food tended to be over-seasoned (i.e., salty), but that the sea bass was one of the best I’d ever eaten. Plus, I got to use the $30 giftcard to the restaurant that my previous bailiff had given me for Christmas last year. I’ve been burning giftcards left and right after realizing my purse lining was about to explode with them.

Between the movie and lunch, I ran across some upcoming The Simpsons Movie publicity props, and was initiated into the Simpson family. See for yourself:

I’m learning to be like Jordan and whipping out the cameraphone everywhere I go.

Just heard on the Greg Behrendt (author of “He’s Just Not That Into You”) show:

“Sex is important in a relationship because without it, you’re just friends with a growing resentment.”

No wonder I love his book.

After skipping the noon workout on Friday (I went with Mr. W’s coworkers to lunch as they wanted to treat him for his upcoming bday), eating the rare lunch and rich dinner out, having lunch out again today (P.F. Chang’s China Bistro), and making myself a grilled chicken quesadilla for dinner tonite, there are few things more guilt-quenching than feeling rivulets of sweat trickle down my lower back and between my breasts, dissipating into the elastic bands of the bottom of my sports bra and the waistband of my shorts, after a 3+ mile run as I sit here and type this.

And bunnies! I saw lots and lots of white cotton-tailed bunnies bouncing and pouncing and prancing on the rolling hills of the park we ran through! The hills were alive with the movement of bunnies! “Bunnies!” I said delightedly to Mr. W on the run, “What do you think they’re all doing out here?”
He said dully without looking around, “Breeding like rabbits.”
I examined the bunnies that darted off as we ran by, trying to catch some of them in x-rated bunny-style action. No luck. “Bunnies!” I said excitedly again. Aside from the sound of heavy rhythmic breathing, I got nothing back from Mr. W. “You don’t seem as impressed with the bunnies as I am,” I observed.
“I ain’t impressed with shit right now. I’m in pain,” he spat.
Footfalls in the silence. Pitter patter of our feet. “Bunnies,” I said quietly to myself.

College roommie Diana joined the 30S today! Hippo birdie, Diana! You’re in good company! Diana flew down from Northern Cal on business yesterday and joined her high school/college friends Ansen, Sabrina, Sabrina’s fiance Jon (who just HAPPENS to be my friend James’ coworker, and altho James says they sit diagonal cubes from each other, they have never actually seen each other), Mr. W and me for dinner at a new bar/lounge/restaurant in Costa Mesa called Mesa. Now THAT…is a really swanky place and was buzzing even at only 3 weeks old. They’ve had no advertising, no website, not even a sign outside the building to announce its infant arrival, and it was good enough through word-of-mouth alone to draw in Germaine Jackson who was there with his wife celebrating her birthday last nite. The only reason we knew about it was cuz Jon is a partial investor in the restaurant. We all ordered the 4-course prix fixe summer tasting menu, which started with a complimentary basil/cucumber/nut bisque soup to whet the appetite (not normally included but we got special treatment because of Jon), then came course #1, an angel hair pasta in a brown truffle cream sauce over an easy poached egg which, when the waiters brought our bowls out, they shaved whole truffle coins over (I’ve never seen the elusive expensive truffle served in that quantity before). Course #2 was seared halibut (?) cheek topped with veal-stuffed raviolis. Course #3, I actually got a picture of because it was too pretty not to whip out the cameraphone for, except the photo didn’t do it nearly enough justice due to the dark lighting of the place:

This is foie gras and mushroom topped with a puff pastry, on the side of a New York steak topped with beignets of battered fried garlic whips. If you’ve never heard of garlic whips, don’t feel bad because last night was all of our first times, too. It’s apparently a mushroom that looks like an asparagus sprig, that tastes like garlic. Course #4 is dessert, chocolate mousse with a center of whipped peanut creme, topped with chocolate and a crispy peanut butter “brittle” made from carmelized peanut sauce. It was served alongside an espresso-sized cup of chocolate malt shake (it ain’t McDonald’s shake!) decorated with a tiny sugar spiral that looks like a spring sitting across the top of the cup, with a mint leaf caught in the coil. In between the malt cup and mousse was a cluster of brown syrupy sauce which we tasted with the tips of our forks and were all surprised to find it on the salty side. It had what seemed like coarse grains of salt with grated peanuts. After our inquiry, we learned that it is indeed sea salt, but really exclusive expensive sea salt that is made from the misty brine of ocean that floats through the air and collects on the nearby ocean plants and leaves, and then it’s collected, after it’s dried, grain by grain from the leaves by hand. (Doesn’t this sound like a Grimm fairy tale?) It was great to offset the sweetness of the shake and mousse and give the two smooth items some texture.
Overall, regarding the chef, I have never tasted such richness in so many different courses of food collectively at one time in one place. The guy is a culinary genius. Here’s another guy’s review on the place, the only one we could find on the internet, but this guy seems to know his food better than me.
The location was very cool, a former pool hall now completely rebuilt into a restaurant lounge divided into three sections: upon entry past the foyer, the left side of the large square room is an eclectic lounge sitting area with two cushion-surrounded fireplaces and the most amazing thing of all, you look up and see straight into the night sky with the glass ceiling panels folded aside like giant horizontal shutters; the center is the double-sided bar with a cocktail and wine list so varied and unique you’d want to try it all (I ordered a Bourbon & Cherries, made from bourbon, muddled cherries and mint, sweetened with grenadine); and the right side is the split-level restaurant area with two lengths of tables and large semi-circular padded booths along the wall so the patrons eat facing all the action in the room. The restrooms were also something to behold. There’s no “restroom;” instead you walk into a restroom area behind the open lounge area, and are confronted with two rows of four or five doors facing each other, like you’re in a broad hallway of a hotel. Each of these rooms is a restroom with its own sink, mirror, toilet. You know which “room” is free by a strip of light over each door; green is vacant, red is occupied. Music was as eclectic as the different heights of chairs and tables in the bar lounge, going from techno rave to orchestral to old style blues. It may have influenced our dinner table conversation to meander in the diverse way it did going from Transformers and 80s childhood cartoons to socio-political reform to healthcare in various socialist countries to ethics on wedding attendance and vacation spots.

To make myself feel better, I’m gonna say that our night was a microcosm sampling of who we are, people with a broad spectrum of interests, accomplishments, opinions, tastes and friends, all developed painstakingly through our last 30+ years of life.

2 posts ago, Adam left the following comment, which I think deserves its own post that I could read again later for inspiration and not have to hunt down through the comments sections:

“Happy birthday late. Here’s my horoscope for you:

You ever think back to your teens and wish you’d had it more together and how if you could go back you’d do it better because you weren’t awake enough at the time but now you are? Or your (early) 20s?

Your 30s are your power years, if you’re awake. Your you years. Your superhero years. Project ahead to your 50s and imagine what you’ll say then looking back on now, how if you could go back (to now) you’d do it better because you’re more aware.

I say focus not on what you don’t have or what schedule you’re behind on. Wake up early and discover/define your power and hurl it/you into daring enterprises and helping people. I say turn 40 breathless.”

It got me thinking. And my thoughts were in this response:

“I ‘woke up’ senior year in high school, in the sense that I saw and was able to behave accordingly with the Big Picture. Before that I was always disappointed by people and spent much of my time wallowing in that disappointment. As far as doing things better, I kinda wish I hadn’t ditched Cirque du Soleil and gotten in the biggest trouble I’d ever gotten into in high school, but it’s become one of those events that changed me and prevented future stupid decisions, and strengthened my sense of integrity. So, yeah. Not much I would change as far as HS goes.

Now my 20s was kinda scary, in the sense that after college, it was all sort of a blur without midterms and finals and years in college to mark the passing of time. But I think I continued to learn vicariously and develop my sense of self.

One of the essays we had to write in high school German class (in the German language, obviously) had the topic “In 10 years, how would you see yourself now?” I can’t remember what I wrote. But I like your idea of projecting forward and retrospecting back to my 30s to write it how I’d want to remember it later.

Thank you, Adam.

P.S. See, you should comment more often.”

Got this forward from a coworker. With age comes wisdom. Or a form of it.

HOW TO CALL THE POLICE WHEN YOU’RE OLD AND DON’T MOVE FAST ANYMORE.

George Phillips of Meridian, Mississippi was going up to bed when his wife told him that he’d left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window. George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things. He phoned the police, who asked “Is someone in your house?” and he said “no”. Then the policeman said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be arriving when available. George said, “Okay,” hung up, counted to 30 seconds, and phoned the police again.
“Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don’t have to worry about them now because I’ve just shot them all.” Then, he hung up the phone.
Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response Unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips’ residence and caught the burglars red-handed!! One of the policemen said to George, “I thought you said that you’d shot them!” George said, “Well, I thought you said there was nobody available!!”
The moral of the story…. “DON’T MESS WITH OLD PEOPLE!!”

I love this. I want to remind myself of this. Today’s horoscope.

You may be required to execute a task that others will notice, but you might prefer a chance to creatively unveil your deeper feelings in a more private situation. The problem is that you aren’t interested in burying your feelings while you put a positive spin on things. The good news is that you don’t have to deceive anyone if you are working for a higher cause.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007

I wonder if anyone who has ever sought and received advice from me feels this from me — that I point out the silver lining, that I seek to be understood as to my logic, that I try to draw my logic from an ethereal source. And it’s as true as Ben Franklin’s quote to the effect that one needn’t worry about a bad memory if one always sticks to the truth; there’s no evil motive to camouflage and no bloody hands to hide if my reasons, which I do creatively unveil in private to slicken understanding, are pure.