Looking for Flaws.

I correct people sometimes because I know that they know better. And, though I have a scrutinizing list of qualities I would like in a gentleman suitor, I must admit that, although things may not seem to be of the malleable inclination, at the heart of it, I could just as easily abandon all of my requisites - given the right opportunity.

There's knowing what you want. There's also being a spoiled brat and always demanding that you get those things that you have distinguished that you desire.

So. It has been brought to my attention that, subconsciously, inadvertently, what may be masked as a meticulous discernment for detail, may, in fact, be a thinly veiled method of looking for flaws. There, I said it. i didn't think I'd be one of those - but hey, it happens.

In lieu of all the above, I'm abandoning the "uber-observational" eye.

Mothers, lock up your 28-32 year old sons... (Actually, I would hope they'd be out of the house by now, so [insert equivalent adage here]...)

DELETE. DELETE. DELETE. And NO, Don't remember me.

WHEN IN DOUBT, DELETE!
(In low monotone) DELETE. DELETE. DELETE. Since when did we get so many emails? Sometimes it's best to do a clean sweep. Junk mail. Junk e-mails. All the cool e-newsletters that you have to subscribe to for staying in the loop.

Annoying guy that keeps getting in your face to flirt with you - I will look deep into your eyes - and then DELETE.
SUV parking in a 'compact' parking spot - DELETE.
Slow walkers - DELETE.
Neighbor with smelly dog that leaves an odoriferous mark in the elevator long after departing - DEAR GOD, DELETE!

I'm sighing for what must be the millionth time today. This week.
Those February doldrums and the droll hours they bring. I keep wanting to close my eyes.
I just got home. I don't feel like cooking. Can I leave on that note? Is that enough? I do not feel like cooking.

The Situation

Starbucks downtown - at L.A. Live. First off - the 'Buck downtown is nice! Spotted: cutie with dark hair, dark eyes whom works there.
Starbucks employee: Hi, what can I get for ya?
Me: (pause) Hi. Can I get - a grande -
Starbucks employee: mm-hmm. (He pulls out a clear plastic grande cup.)
Me: Hot.
Starbucks employee: ok. (He returns the plastic cup and pulls out a paper cup.)
Me: Nonfat, extra-hot, no-foam, vanilla latte ?
Starbucks employee: (trying to feign like he ISN'T taken aback). O - Kay.
Me: I know. It's complicated.
Starbucks employee: What's your name?
(I tell him.)
Starbucks employee: Ok. I'm going to remember that name.
Me: Oh no. (Thinking: I hope he doesn't spit in my coffee.)
Starbucks employee: So, you live around here?

What? He could be my type. If he just cut his hair and you gave him the right clothes.

Get By.

Fight Me. I dare ya.
Bursts of road rage. A whole lot of deep sighs. Indignancies run rampant and the dark clouds have somehow rolled into the SoCal landscape. Weird.

The Follies of February.
I had the unfortunate experience of becoming the target of a racial insult while driving in LA. In the middle of Koreatown. Admittedly, I flared up a bit, wanting to literally stop, get out of my car, and exchange a few words with the man. And by words, I don't mean words. I'm sure it would've been a sight, all 5'3" of me.

Get By.
I forgot how much I used to like Kweli. He is a lyrical genius.

This morning, I woke up
Feeling brand new and I jumped up
Feeling my highs, and my lows
In my soul, and my goals
Just to stop smokin, and stop drinkin
And I've been thinkin - I've got my reasons
Just to get by, just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by

We are in the doldrums of February, that haze of slush and fog and thaw and refreeze and thaw cycle. It trudges on, removed from the anticlimax of January and dragging its feet until the promise of spring in March.
You want February, indeed, just to get by.

My calves hurt. My cousin once said to me that it was because when I walk I am probably one of those rushed lazy calf-lifters.

The Situation.
This is a new entry. I would like to call this section something else. Any suggestions? If only Jersey Shore didn't have to have crazy cartoon character people with kitschy nicknames. I'm sure Wolf Blitzer wasn't happy.

A late-night bite with a bunch of friends. You ever find yourself at the section of the table with the socially inept members of the group? It can be pretty frustrating. Not to mention the eternal turn-off factor of realizing some mutual friends are, the tweedledee-and-tweedle-duh, and the awkward fish. Initially, you wonder how that dynamic has transpired, such that you are the only one making the effort at conversation. Sometimes I suspect it boils down to pure social laziness. NERDS!

Private party. Guy walks over to a group of women, interrupting to introduce himself. Women seem to be cool with it, and Guy proceeds to zero in on the bright-as-light-blonde woman. The other two in the group are becoming painfully aware of the fact that they are not needed in this conversation. They stand by so as not to be rude. Guy proceeds to keep talking and all three women wonder when he'll reveal himself to be a walking cliche. If you can't talk to a collective group of women, engaging and listening to each person in conversation, then don't go and interrupt them. No, you didn't rock our world, babe. Get a grip.

COTW[crush-of-the-week]

Benicio del Toro. Dark and looming with street-cred, yet a touch of the debonair.

XOXO cookies covered in dark chocolate icing. Available now, at Porto's. Can I have my money now?