As I mentioned in my last post, I’m borrowing a camera from my "best job in the world"provider, Google, until I can figure out if I want a snazzy little Canon (SD700, baby) or alas, finally upgrade to a Digital SLR. Or both (which is where I think I’m leaning, though it will take a few months to save up for this feat.) Anyway, the lighting was awesome today in my hotel room, and as I was snapping some photos of the room, decided to turn the camera on myself. I’ve been meaning to do a "Mirror" or "Self-Portrait" series for some time now, only I’m such a harsh critic I thought I’d end up hating them all. I’m going to attribute my lack of self-hatred on the good lighting, and go with it.

So, as promised: Aubrey, on Aubrey.

So I’ve arrived here in Seoul, and I’ve got one thing to say: Singapore Airlines is a big tease. After my excitement about the internet (THE INTERWEB! FROM 10,000 FEET! OH JOY!) I came to find out that it’s only available on select flights, mine not being one of them. Now, granted, the flight wasn’t too bad, but I had built up Singapore Air so much that realizing it was just like any other United Flight (in coach, no less), I was a wee bit disappointed. That, and the strangely flexible man that sat on the aisle refused to get up from his seat, instead putting his legs nearly around his head every time I went to the restroom. Who knew that Seat 35C was reserved for contortionists?

But alas, I arrived, and in one piece. In my haste to pack and get Lila to the boarders, I inadvertantly forgot to pack the Ambien, so attempted the "red wine cure" for insomnia; sadly, it didn’t work. Not only did I not fall asleep, never even caught a buzz and just ended up very dry-mouthed and exhausted. So much for Jet-Lag Free Aubrey, as originally claimed.

That said, the hotel is a DELIGHT. Truly, everything I said about it before and more. After waking up at 4:30 (for once, not a result of Lila Belle steamrolling me like she does to delicately tell me she needs to go out) my attempts to fall back asleep were futile. As such, decided to forge ahead with the day, check the interweb, eat a Luna bar and take advantage of the 24-hour gym. THIS is where you would have found me at 6am.

Then, after being my own personal Jane Fonda (minus the anorexia and Ted Turner nuptials, of course) I decided it had been FAR too long since I had a swim. So alas, took advantage of the infinity pool, also located on the 24th floor. I’ve never been in an indoor one of these before, and it truly was breathtaking; the picture below doesn’t even start to do it justice. (Maybe tomorrow I’ll sneak my camera in.)

By 7am, I was back in the room, enjoying the poshest shower experience I’ve ever had (and remember – my house in Atlanta had the nicest shower I’d ever been in until today), spent far too much on Pay-Per-View "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" (he SOOO cheated on Jen with Angelina – sorry, fans, their chemistry was undeniable), took a nap and woke up for the fanciest brunch I’ve ever had.

Are you sensing a theme here?

My lunch was one of those occasions where you can’t quite believe the food still arrives. Complete with a choice of cocktail, I went to sample various gourmet appetizers and opted for the seafood "main" course. After just returning to my seat, the onslaught of additional food choices began. For those of you who have ever been overwhelmed at a Brazilian Steakhouse where the choices seem to never end, you’ll understand. Only these options included King Crab salad, proscuitto-wrapped melon, shrimp cocktail, green bean/squid salad, tossed-to-order mixed greens, tuna tartare, beef carpaccio – and this is just a sampling OF THE APPETIZERS. You can only imagine the ‘mains’ and ‘desserts’ – amazingly enough, because the portions were so small, I didn’t necessarily waddle out of there (ok, maybe just a little.) Perhaps the food coma was the reason why I missed that step and went SPRAWLING in between the tables while every Korean diner looked on aghast with horror and amusement at that clumsy blonde American. TOURISTS.

My pride (and ankle, damnit) appropriately scathed, I decided to see the sights; namely, Changdeokgung, one of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Truly an amazing place – our tour guide was really cute and funny, and given that it was 75 and BEAUTIFUL today, there was nothing more that I wanted to do than to be outside. (Ok, that’s a lie – there’s some things that will always take precedence over all others, but last time I checked, Michael Vartan wasn’t here nor do I see any red carpets being rolled out for me. Only a matter of time, I know…)

I took a ridiculous amount of photos, but have spared you the onslaught of "Aubrey using her borrowed bad-ass Digital SLR camera" giddiness…only 50 or so pics when you click on the photo below.

And alas, I returned to my room. Want to see what I’m talking about? LOOK. THIS IS MY ROOM. (Not a stock photo – this is my ACTUAL ROOM.)

So I suppose that about wraps up day one. I got kind of creative with the camera (see above, reference "Badass Digital SLR") so there should be a self-portrait set forthcoming. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this…with me…in the heart of Seoul.

So yes, once again Aubrey is a-travellin’. (Aside: I really should stop referring to myself in third person, but truly, it’s SO FUN. / Aside.) This time, I’m heading WAY overseas to unchartered territory (at least to me) and heading to Seoul, Korea and Beijing, China for the next week. Yes, it’s for work. Yes, I know I have the coolest job in the world.

In the midst of all of this I’m trying to get Lila Belle’s boarding all squared away, get someone to watch the feline members of the menagerie, and finish the last-minute changes on the training deck I’m presenting. I also have an ankle the size of Minnesota because yours truly neglected to go to the doctor for it and alas, it doesn’t seem to be repairing itself, and I haven’t even begun to think about packing. (What does one wear to work in Korea? Or China for that matter?) I foresee a late night in my future.

With all this travel, my parents are (understandably) confused as to where I’ll be at any given time. As such, I’ve spent some time (not at work, of course, only on my PERSONAL time) setting up my Google Calendar. I’ve futily (why does that word look weird?) attempted to create a feed directly into my blog so that I could set up once where I’m at and voila! It will automatically post on my side bar under "Where in the World is Aubrey?". Alas, (please refer back to "futily") this hasn’t worked. But, if you’re curious as to where I am on any given day, paste the following XML feed into your favorite reader and there you go:

So back to the matter at hand. In less than 24 hours I’ve got a ticket on an airplane (ain’t got time to take a fast train), heading across the Pacific to Seoul where (apparently) hot temps and a fat (phat? Who cares. Let’s go with "Badass" and be done with it) hotel awaits me. I was dreading the flight (only 11+ hours, but still – not so fun) but just found out that Singapore Airlines offers INTERNET on the plane.
Seriously? Are you kidding me? Hi, NerdAubrey’s quasi-wet dream! Not only do I have an in-seat screen and access to 30+ movies, but I can BLOG WHILE I FLY? DRUNK? FOR FREE?

Seriously, say it with me – I HAVE THE BEST JOB IN THE WORLD.

Catch ya later – like, from 10,000 feet.

If I were to say "My ex raided my closet", I’m guessing you’d first ask why I used to date a cross-dresser.

No, I’m not talking about THAT ex – the closet-raider I’m talking about is the straight one.

Anyhoo, when he was visiting for New Years, he absconded my Google Bike Jersey, given that he’s a triathlete and all. It’s not like I have much use for it, being that my bike was stolen and I’m not exactly on the triathalon circuit. (Yet. You just wait.) Anyhoo, hadn’t thought too much of it all until today when I got the following picture from him:

While my first inclination is to make fun of him in his spandex (you should see the Speedo photos – really, it’s HOT!), in this instance, I can’t help but say: GO, Google, GO!

Some people can do it – I’d generalize that most guys can, and that there’s quite a few girls that say they can though the reality proves otherwise. Again, a generalization.

For guys, without getting into the whole evolutionary debate (where sperm are "cheap" and eggs are "expensive", thus monogamy works for women where for men it’s not in their evolutionary best interests), I’ve seen many, many more opt for this lifestyle (or at least engage in the activity) without regret. To quote my Mom (and probably yours as well), "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

For women, I see it falling into three camps. There’s the women that just aren’t down with it (and that’s fabulous! Go them!), there’s the women that say that they’re ok with it but, more often than not, are still entertaining the idea that this non-relationship will one day evolve into something more despite claiming otherwise, and then there’s the latter group that must be more hard-wired like a man (or else really, really in touch with emotions that I’m not sure I could find if trying.) I wasn’t sure which camp I fell into, so the former biology/genetics major in me decided to conduct an experiment: Is FB for me?

Never having really gone down this route officially (being a virgin through college negated this prospect, at least by definition), I thought that with my travel being at an all-time high and increasing, I may as well  opt for something casual.   That, combined with the fact the possible co-FB-er was so poorly  suited for me it was almost comical, convinced me that if there ever was a time to try out this concept, perhaps it was now.

As such, the plan proceeded. Discussions were had (and frank ones at that – for once, I was the vocal one  instead of waiting for the guy to initiate the DTR – Defining the Relationship – conversation) and it was pretty clear that what was happening wasn’t much of anything. It was what it was, and to be honest (for one of many reasons), I sure as hell knew it wasn’t going anywhere. (Caveat: The guy’s a good guy. He’s likely been someone’s fabulous boyfriend before, and I’m certain he’ll be someone else’s great boyfriend in the future. Just not mine.) So, with the groundwork being laid (amongst other things – ahem), I proceeded down the path of self-enlightenment.

It started off swimmingly enough (insert hot tub pun here), but as time proceeded and my travel increased, the spontenaity of it all dissolved. Instead of "Hey, whatcha doin’ tonight" calls we instead found ourselves planning out our trysts. As such, it became much more "date-y" than should ever ensue in such an environment; there’s no room for dating (at least that person) in FB-land. While I was still (if not moreso) convinced that this "relationship" wouldn’t be going any further, I didn’t have a lot of insight on my own views on the concept as a whole. One could argue that by conducting said experiment I inherently negated being the first type o’ gal (the one who is strongly opposed to even the concept), but I’d say that – as with most things in life – you can’t knock it ’til you try it. So in this case, I tried it, and can’t decide where I fall. Am I against it? Not sure. Am I pretending to be ok with it yet longing for something more? No, not in this case, but who knows – I think it all depends on the situation (and the person, of course.) Or do I fall into that formerly-disillusioned third class of ladies whose hearts are so hardened that romance is the ultimate fallacy?

I wasn’t sure. And then today, driving into work with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, I listened to a song by Bernard Fanning entitled "Further Down the Road." He sings:

Not too proud to say I’d like a little romance

and I knew my answer. Like the song goes,

I guess we’ll find out futher down the road."

I guess we will, but in honesty, I think I already know.

Just realized as I was rocking out to "Sweet Home Alabama" (on the radio, no less) that people here consider it a karaoke song but would likely be surprised to know that there’s a whole contingent of people to whom it is a lifestyle.

Which got me thinking about the South, my identity as a misplaced Southerner, and started me wondering how people decide where they’re from. While I’m officially FROM Ohio, I’d say – and do say – that above anything else I’m a Southerner. I identify with its people, its customs, its culture. One of my favorite professors in college, John Shelton Reed, taught a class re: the regional sociology of the South. He posed that regions usually define themselves, and used somewhat untraditional means to define the "boundaries" of the South, including how many references of the word "dixie" appeared in local phone books. A freshman in this Sr. Level class at the time, I was more worried about keeping up my GPA during a sun and beer-filled Spring semester than I was about learning about this foreign place beneath the Mason-Dixon, but in the years that followed I’ve found myself referencing this class and Professor Reed’s findings. As such, I know where the South IS but not necessarily WHO it is.

And yet as I sit here in another "foreign" land (SF), I know that mint juleps, Derby Days and hot, hot summer nights are in my blood, and there’s nothing wrong with a little moonshine or sweet tea.

Just not together. Even this Southerner knows better than that.

There’s a campaign hitting San Francisco – every billboard, every  bus stop poster, is announcing Old Navy’s quest to find their new mascot, "Magic." Now of course, I’ve planned on entering Lila Belle, so I got my trusty (newly-borrowed – thanks Google!) Canon big-honkin-super-quality camera and took it (and Lila) to the dog park to get some perfect snaps of my lil’ four-legged terror. Though the lighting is a bit strong, I think they turned out ok.

So I just logged on to submit my photos (the sooner the better – I can’t wait for Lila to be famous!) and alas, looks like Old Navy has already found her. Who KNEW that Lila was famous already!?

…That I had someone to have a picnic with today. The weather is perfect, I have the blanket and picnic accoutrements, but not…you.

I have never been strong in this area…and I seem to be getting worse. Perhaps it’s the immediacy, the instantaneous, of life today. People want it, and they want it now. And I hate to say that I’m no exception. When I want something, I’m not the best at waiting.

This is hard.

I know I’m wrong.

But when I’m passionate about something, I just don’t want to wait.

More fun Coachella pics from darling Ali, who even got the chugging contest aftermath.

(Click on the pic to find out just WHO wears girl glasses!)

I have a feeling a rematch will soon be in order (even I feel like I’m rubbing this in too much – everyone has an off day now & again!)  and will let y’all know who prevails.

Also, I’m open to taking bets on it.