Speed Dating 3: Vulcan Nerf Gun Edition

So, I went speed dating. Again.

Pictured above: It's important to place the name-tag near the pocket square. It sends a message. And that message is "Hi! I'm Sai, and I hope you are ready for disappointment!"

In any case, here (again) are some out-of-context quotes from the evening:

"I took the job hoping for free botox injections."

"I keep a vulcan nerf gun under my desk."

"Wait, you seem really young. This is for 33-43 year-olds, right?"

"Why won't you teach me how to swing dance!?"

So, overall, it was an amazing night. As a reward, I bought myself a new straw hat to go along with my new sunglasses.

Pictured above: Now all I need is my own Columbian drug cartel.

Back Alley Games and Myopic Gnomes

I am not accustomed to failure. I had my first taste of it in grade school, when I brought back a sub-satisfactory grade of less than an "A." My mother kindly sat me down, put her arm around my shoulder, and explained that I had brought shame to the entire family.

But even now, I find myself falling into a pattern of failure. It began a week ago, when I acquired an antique straight razor the only way one should: in a back alley game of no-limit baccarat. Despite it's horrifyingly unguarded blade, it was too dull to use for shaving.

Pictured above: Alas, I will simply have to use it as one of my back-up blades during my back alley games of no-limit knife fighting.

And I also purchased a pair of prescription sunglasses online, but I unfortunately did not notice that they were the world's smallest pair of aviators.

Pictured above: Appropriate only for Bond villains or myopic gnomes.

This week had some success for me, though. I managed to capture a rare tropical painting during my monthly art hunt. It will surely be my new trophy to sit atop my mantle.

Pictured above: Don't worry, the painting was humanely euthanized.