Okay, this post took about a week to compose. Because I was involved, I wanted to make sure that I was being objective, critical without being bitchy and well...okay, on to the story:

Out with my girl @darlingnicky999 for some fun and frivolity, which we had a lot of (heh). As any good night in Toronto should end, we went for the customary late night/early morning Chinese. We sat down and ordered and...in walked The Freak and the Cockroach. The Freak made a beeline for the table and started to flirt with my girl. For the first, erm 2 minutes, he was funny and charming. And then he ran out of material...started in on about his fetishes and just got creepy. My girl remained polite while he talked, and I tuned out as soon as he asked me my least favourite question "what's your background?". I hate it because a: it's not that big a mystery, b: I usually get asked it in the first 5 minutes of meeting an (annoying) person and I find that to be too personal a question and c: it's usually asked when it's not relevant. When I countered with my favourite answer, "guess." he proceeded to get his back up - if you've ever seen someone with multiple personalities switch...yeah.

His response: "look, I'm older than 35 years and I don't like to play games..."

Alrighty then. Don't ask game playing questions then.

Oh, yeah. The Cockroach. While The Freak is trying his best to get in with my girl, the Cockroach sat alone at their table sulking. He was hungry, tired, drunk and he was waiting for his boy before ordering. What did The Freak say "order me some soup!"

Okay: guys, when we see you treat your friends with such disregard - you fail. You want to impress a girl? Suggest a group meal...at that hour of the day, everyone is in high spirits. Wouldn't be so wrong.

Our waiter comes over and whispers to me "he's bad news! Tell your friend not to bother with this guy!"

Okay: guys, when the WAITER knows your modus operandi, FIND A NEW LATE NIGHT RESTAURANT!

Then, The Freak gets up to go to the bathroom, The Cockroach comes over and asks my friend point blank if she finds his friend attractive. She demurs (she hasn't made up her mind what she thinks of this dude), but The Cockroach persists and says "it's a yes or no answer". So she says no. Oh, did I mention that before she answered, The Cockroach called The Freak an asshole?

Okay: GUYS! MAKE SURE YOUR WINGMAN ACTUALLY FUCKING LIKES YOU!!

Then, The Cockroach turns on me. I have spent this entire time watching and not saying much. So what possessed him to ask me if I found HIM attractive? I don't think he is, but what am I supposed to say?

Me: well, you're not my type (translation: I wouldn't fuck you)...but that's just me, I don't like guys with hair.

Him: well, I need a haircut, and I'm not properly groomed...need to shave...

Me: no, it looks good but --

Him: don't tell me that it looks good when I know it doesn't!

Me: oooookay. Well, I'm not an expert at men's barbering --

He then proceeded to talk to me about false compliments as a psychological thing and that I was trying to deflect from larger issues blah blah blah "I studied psychology" was his ending...

WHAT?!?!

Guys: if the compliment is given, don't throw it back in her face. Okay, I won't fuck you, but I'm trying to NOT hurt your feelings.

After he dismisses me, leaving me stunned, he turns to my girl and calls her Rosita...because she has a flower in her hair. SHE's confused, because she can't figure why he's calling her that.

Me: it's not a rose...?

Him: (to my girl) See? Because I CORRECTED her just now, she feels the need to contradict everything I say from this point forward in order to feel better---

Me: but it's not a rose?!

Him: she just wants to prove a point.

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it anymore. I also made a vow that from this point forward, I will hand my card to guys like this.

Him: that's a fake laugh to cover up your discomfort. It's a defensive laugh.

Okay you Napoleonic motherfucker... Read the lessons above, because the next time we cross paths, I will have no choice but to stand up (because my 5'3.75 ass is taller than you) and step on you like, a Cockroach.The Freak comes back, The Cockroach returns to the table to eat what he's ordered, and we want to get the cheque ASAP.

The cheque arrives and, we've been charged for items that we didn't order. We start to signal the waiter and The Freak shouts out across THE FUCKING RESTAURANT "YO! MY BOY! COME HERE!" This is mortifying. It's 4 a.m., everyone is staring and my girl and I want to crawl under the table.

Guys: how many times do we have to say this? If you act like an asshole around service people, we know that's how you really are!?!? It's not a good look.

And here is the FML moment. It turns out we have friends in common with these two...which means we will bump into them again (and we have). What does this say about them? What does this say about our friends? This part still boggles the mind a week later...but that's not for today's lesson. Because we've already revealed that we have people in common, both The Freak and the Cockroach think they have an "in". They don't. Telling me to tell a friend of ours that you say "hi" 5 times in 5 minutes tells me that a: you're drunk and b:you're trying too hard.

Guys, you are not judged by the scope of your contacts but the way you carry yourself. Read the bold text above for the short answers... how is it said? Oh yes: epic fail.

Oh hells no...

Out last night in a few places and having a good time with the girls.

Got to venue number two and start to scope out some choices for my girl (I love to play wingman). We see a few but it's kinda hard as some seem a little more drunk than they should be.

The HE walks in.

Oh. Hello. Almost pulled a 360 degree "Exorcist" with my head to watch him walk by... Alex the bartender is in agreement.

Now, the approach for me is a little more difficult. On behalf of another...no problem! Me? Uh...But, we do move closer to where they are, conveniently enough there's an empty table. But I don't make eye contact or anything. One of his boys approaches my girl to ask where coat check is (uhm...follow the big neon sign that says "coat check"? lol)and they leave and come back - with their coats.

Then the house music comes on and I forget all about HIM (house music is my drug of choice). And then one of his other friends approaches us when we take a break and I'm sitting on a ledge on the wall. I'm in good spirits...then this guy ruins it.
Asks if we're having a good time, then asks if we're from "the suburbs"

What?

I'm a city girl, born and raised. Three weeks ago, I took the GO train for the first time in about 20 years. But I look suburban to your Ed Hardy wearing ass? Strike 1.

He says that his name is Olivier and he's originally from MTL. I mock a broken heart and explain that I'm offended about the suburban remark. I need to know, what about us looked "suburban"? Explains that he hasn't seen us at this club before and that we look "different".

(uh, was here a few weeks ago, the bartender's an old friend, even one of the bouncers knows my ID by heart...I've never seen YOU before)

I point out my snakeskin print pumps (purchased in Montreal)and say "do these look suburban to you?" (he said "a little")

He then tries to guess where I'm from in the city.

Scarborough?
Don Mills?
York Mills?

No. No. No. Strike two.

I say "you're insulting me..." he says "I'm just joking..." I say "this is how you pick up women? With insults?" Because, Chris Rock makes jokes, you're just being dumb sweetie."

My girl is gleefully wondering when the giant cocktail ring on my hand is going to make contact with his face. When I tell him where I live (which, admittedly is a nice 'hood) he says "did you have to think about that for a minute?" (blank stare from me) "oh so you're going to say you live in the rich part of town?"

I look and him and say "strike three."

BATTER UP!

So that's when HE decides to step in. Yes, the original hottie. Asking if we're alright and is his friend bothering us.

Me: "he's insulting"

HE effectively goes in for the block and we start talking. This is so much better!

Wrong.

I tell him my name is Roc (i.e. gave my nickname only)and his response is "oh! Like 'The Rock'? My response was "yes, except I don't cook" (i.e. "do you smell what The Rock is cooking?

Oh! Well what told me to say that? HE went on a 5-minute diatribe about why this is a tragedy. Some highlights:(these are verbatim quotes)

"What about tradition? Rice and Peas? Jerk Chicken?"
"What about passing our culture on to your children? You want to have kids, right?"
"...for instance, I would want my son to know how to fix a roof, repairs around the house and my daughter - not that I'm expecting you to live by the stove, but..."
"I assume you're some sort of African descent mixture, right?"
"I work 9-5...it's good to have a home cooked meal..."
"Oh, you're on some North American bullshit with that 'not cooking' stuff"

At this point, he hasn't even told me his name! He launched right into this.

I AM CANADIAN with Caribbean heritage, both my parents are Black and MY traditions and culture include a lot more than Rice and fucking Peas and Jerk Chicken, it's none of your goddamn business whether or not I want kids and (this I said to him) I work a lot more than 9-5 and I know how to use power tools bitch. Then I said (when I finally got a chance), "oh, when I said I don't cook, you assumed I didn't know how?"

"Yes!"

"oh. I know HOW... I just DON'T"

Then he proceeded to quiz me on what I know how to make. And then suggested that we get friends together to cook a meal - he'll help.

You are put on the disabled list, sit out the rest of the season on the bench, punk.

My poor girl is fending off some others while I have a debate with this sexist shit who finally told me his name, but luckily a dark knight cockblocked with the "I haven't seen you in so long! Gimme a hug" move... bless his heart.

Moral of the story? There isn't one... I just had to vent.

okay, maybe there's two:

1 - don't use insults to pick up a woman... IT DOES NOT WORK
2 - don't openly judge a woman within the first 5 minutes based on an innocuous comment...

oh, okay one more

don't brag about effectively cockblocking your boy to get to me (yes, Batter #2 did this)

SMH

Whoo hoo...

In the lab for a bit and came out (semi) victorious... I'm not a web designer, not a graphic designer, nothing, so I'm pleased with how the site has turned out (and I did it all by m'self!)

I now know things like favicons, in-line frames and embedding... feeling geeked out now. Dunno if you're reading this via the site or stumbled upon us via blogger feeds, but hi there... how are ya?

There was some thought that we would have a facebook page, but that seems very last year, and I hate the Fbook layout. So, since we only need to ask questions and get answers - I set up a twitter account. Oh! Someone told me that I could add a twitter feed to blogger...but I've had enough tech talk for the past few weeks.

A friend of a friend of a friend has secured a couple of locations for us to shoot future segments, yaay! Won't be subjected to doing streeters in the freezing cold anymore... check back often we start shooting in May.

Today's question: "why is it when women go out they travel in packs of 3s"

Anyone? Answers? Let me know