short hair woes

Lulled into a sense of unreality by my Thai-settled-in-Berkeley-for-21-years hairdresser's reminiscences of times gone by, I almost coloured my hair blue yesterday. Thankfully, better senses (or, more accurately, hunger pangs and a well-informed email from Fanny) prevailed.

However, I did end up with hair about 1.5 inches shorter than I wanted (and asked for). I wanted a Victoria Beckham and ended up with a mad pixie*.

Today, as I went to my usual coffee shop to get coffee (decked out in eyeliner, mascara and lippy), the coffee chap complimented the new hair and joked about it being very "rock star" (and I'm not a rock star type at all).


* I'm not implying that lady is a mad pixie at all. I, however, seem to look like what I'd imagine an irritated pixie to look like.

voyeur

While having dinner at an excellent Thai restaurant on 4 July (and practicing my Thai language skills while I was at it. The owner was hugely impressed but I fear that may have been more due to the fact that I asked for this duck thing that I've been craving for ages and apparently it's not something most people at that place ask for. I'll always be known as the peht girl or duck girl, as it were), I realised I was the only person apart from a mid-50's-ish couple sat fairly close to me.

Two things about empty restaurants:
1. Sound carries
2. Can't avoid listening in, really.

Turns out Man and Woman had met on BigOnlineDatingSite (BODS!). They had had a "connection" (Woman's terms) and this was their first in-person date. They liked travelling and food (duh!) but the woman ordered a "mild very mild pad thai". Really, how can you have mild pad thai? Pad thai is mild enough to begin with. Anyway, the man asked for and went with the waitperson's recommendations. Nicely done, that.

As Fanny would tell you, I'm a very slow eater. During that time, I found out more about those two than I ever needed to know. It's good (or scary) to realise, though, that age doesn't make the dating process any easier or less awkward (especially if, like me, you are trying to do your best not to listen in while obviously being perfectly situated to do so)

job talk

As part of my job, I had to attend a BBQ today, one where parents and children hung out and chatted with staff/faculty (I'm "faculty").

One woman, whose kid is in my class, was talking to me about Berkeley and calling me "Mrs. Bum" (I was wearing a name tag that clearly specified "Ms Bum"). After a few times of being called Mrs. Bum, I indicated my tag and said, "Not Mrs, just Ms".

The lady, very nicely, said, "Don't worry dear. There's still time".

I'm amused that "Ms." now seems to have the same connotations as "Miss" used to...or, perhaps, this is a one-off.

dropping by to say Hi!

Fear not, dear readers, I've not abandoned yous. I have loads to say including my new and beloved purchase of a pair of gold, yes gold sandals AND my current inexplicably bruised body. It's so bad that a stranger today stopped me and asked if I were okay...on the streets! Oh, Berkeley :-)

But, not right now. Right now, I've got to go sort out some late-night eating options--burgers? naan and curry? hot dogs? or just beer (does beer count as food?) and try find a 24-hour pharmacy to get some liniment and bandaids for my wounds/bruises.

In the meantime, enjoy the pretty pretty Mr. A.