pimping me out. via facebook.

20 Jun

Cousin posted this link on my Facebook page earlier today…

The “ad” is a whopping 3,756 words long with emphasis on the dude’s preference for a “Masters Degree and Job Holder or Self-employed, Pretty Looking, Well Cultured Girl.”  If interested, he “can also arrange a series of meetings among our parents/guardians to materialize our lifelong visualized dreams into the reality.”

So glad my cousin alerted me as to this eligible bachelor.  SO glad.

really?!?

 

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you can’t make this shit up.

15 Jun

Embarrassing personal ad yielded results.  A(nother) Southern California-based plastic surgeon.  This one had a lot more personality than the first (SoCal Surgeon).  But in the process of dazzling me with his personality, he let it slip that his experience with plastic surgery wasn’t merely professional in nature; he had undergone a little nip-tuck of his own.  And once he pointed this out to me, I couldn’t help but stare at his surgically-enhanced parts for the remainder of the evening.

A couple more drinks in, and Dr. Divulge-too-Much offered me his services free of charge.  His exact words, “Even if this thing between us doesn’t work out, you seem like a cool girl.  If you ever need any tune-ups – and I’m not saying that you do – I’m your guy.”  How generous.  And offensive.

I guess India West doesn’t screen for superficiality.  Oof.

i'm guessing this is what the plastic surgeon who operated on my date said to him just before surgery.

 

taking it back to the old skool.

14 Jun

Mom had really been holding out hope that things with either the Engineer or the Doctor would work out (as in, we’d meet once – maybe twice – hit it off, and live happily ever after).  When neither prospect panned out, Mom was back to the drawing board.  But this time, she intended to go beyond the predominantly online focus she had previously espoused.  With a good old fashioned personal ad.

Talk about embarrassing.  There’s something frighteningly permanent about seeing a self-summary (or, as infamously referred to by South Asians across the world, “biodata”) in print.  In my case, the details of my personal and professional life, my likes and dislikes, my family history and contact information will forever be archived in the annals of India West.  Thank you, Mom.

A sneak peek at the first couple lines of my “biodata”…

“Parents seek match for their daughter. Tall, slim, and beautiful. Very compassionate, caring, confident and fun loving. She has impeccable academic and extra curricular record.”

Like I said — EMBARRASSING.

 

god on the go.

13 Jun

Acting pursuant to a Mom-issued mandate, I’m in prayer mode, whereby I’ve been instructed to partake in a daily religious ritual each morning for a consecutive 21 days. After showering and before breakfast-ing, I have a heart-to-heart with Lord Ganesha (one of the countless Hindu gods), the Lord of Beginnings and the Remover of Obstacles (a Lord whose protection is particularly useful in my case given the seemingly insurmountable obstacle(s) that have thus far prevented me from attaining wedded bliss). During our convo, I offer Lord Ganesha some laddu (an Indian sweet) as a demonstration of my devotion to Him. My AM routine ends with consumption of the now divinely-blessed laddu, the idea being that 21 days of this regimen will produce drastic results (ahem…marriage).

I’ve been dutifully making my way through the three-week period. But this weekend, I had plans to head out-of-state (for my bosom buddy’s birthday!), which meant Lord Ganesha and I wouldn’t be able to have our regularly scheduled tête-à-tête. Mom was ten steps ahead of me.

In anticipation of my weekend getaway, she put together a travel-sized temple, complete with Lord Ganesha and the requisite four ladoo (one for every day that I’d be away from home). All of which fit perfectly in a Tupperware. And meant that I wouldn’t have to lose momentum in my quest to remove all obstacles and begin a new chapter in my life.

god on the go. literally.

smile, nod & blog, esq.

6 Jun

EXCITING NEWS!  After having successfully satisfied the requirements for admission to practice law in California (in non-legalese, I passed the damned CA Bar!), I (finally) took the attorney’s oath of office (solemnly swearing to uphold the Constitution and all that jazz) before a panel of judges (which means I’m too-legit-to-quit).

To celebrate, my family put together a Mexican fiesta and invited all the VIPs in my life.  And those who were notably absent and sorely missed sent their well wishes in the most creative of ways.

left: congratulatory balloons. center: cleverly carved and beautifully arranged fruit via edible arrangements. right: graduation caps made from reese's, hershey's and sour candy (talk about creative!!).

Best of all was the YouTube “rap”….err….poem that my Bhaiya-Bhabhi (cousin-brother and sister-in-law) prepared in my honor.  I laughed.  I cried.  I replayed so that I could laugh and cry some more.  I’ve shared the lyrics with you here to give you a better idea of the hidden talents that members of my family possess.

“It’s your graduation [Smile, Nod & Blog] and today we can see / 

That you’re finally a lawyer and you’re happy to be free. 

All that late night studying, drinking Diet Pepsi and lemonade /

Studying for your law degree like you just ain’t afraid.

Munching on yogurt and granola or making cookies from a jar /

It’s really time to celebrate because you’ve passed the Bar!

You truly deserve this, be it a prosecutor or a defender /

Maybe you’ll be a judge or even a US Senator. 

Because you’ve done it and you’ve clearly got it right. 

Now you’re an attorney and your future is looking bright.

Congratulations [SN&B] and best wishes, too. 

May you have a very prosperous life and may all your wishes come true!”

I’m a lucky kid.  I mean, among all the other superstars in my inner circle, I have a Bhaiya and Bhabhi that rap.  Thank you to all my family and friends.  For being my everything – yesterday, and everyday.

Also, I spent most of the night in uniform.  Because that’s how newly dubbed counselors roll.

a "bar passer" visor and "attorney at law" glasses made with love by my monkey-of-a-friend.

dull and dry….and skinny.

3 Jun

After having been let down (gently) by the Engineer, I put on my best gameface and set my sights on other prospects.  The first of whom was the Doctor.  You may remember (or not, since my blogging etiquette of late has been deplorable) that he and I had been in touch via e-mail.  But after the totally impersonal nature of our communication, I was apathetic – about the Doctor and our first meeting.  Still, I tried to give the Doctor the benefit of the doubt, reminding myself that you can’t judge a boy by the quality of his e-mail.

We decided to meet at the Westside Tavern, a monstrous restaurant at the horrifically designed Westside Pavilion in Los Angeles.

main dining room at the westside tavern. which, as its moniker suggests, is in west LA.

I decided to wear a tried and true favorite:

i-love-polkadots dress: vintage. velt: anthropologie.

Sadly, Doctor’s personality paralleled his e-mails to me – dull and dry.  The date was more like an interview than a date, and the questions the Doctor threw my way were often prefaced with “According to your e-mail, you like…”  Definitely not the best way to ease into conversation.  Or, for that matter, to woo a girl.

It didn’t help that Doctor and I weren’t physically compatible either.  As I’ve alluded to in the past, I hover around 5’ 8’’.  Doctor, on a good day, looked to be about 5’ 7 ½’’.  And I’m certain he weighs less than I do.  I don’t have anything against skinny guys (in fact, I think I prefer my men tall and lanky), but I do not want to feel like the fatty in the relationship.

SO…Another first date, not to be followed by a second.  Sigh…

 

 

memorial day weekend.

1 Jun

This is how I spent my Memorial Day.  What did you do?


Yes, that would be me in the red derby hat.  Yes, I got more than a couple stares whilst biking on Balboa Peninsula.  ButbutBUT, neither was I sunburned nor suntanned after a weekend of fun in the sun.  BOO-YAAAAAA!