At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, October 01, 2013


From a fascinating little article on the BBC website comes this tidbit: "Of course she had to be stunning. But she also had to be between 22 and 24 years of age and have a master's degree from one of the top universities in Beijing or Shanghai."

These are the requirements a young lady must have to be considered as a potential wife by a real-estate tycoon in China, according to the article China's 'love hunters' seek brides for picky billionaires.

Peng Tai, the 'talent scout' quoted in the article, says "I am looking for girls with nice skin, nice white skin; they should be not too thin and not too chunky with a normal way of walking."

Dang! He sounds like a crazed Caucasian pervert hunting down the perfect little Cherry Blossom. There are magazines for people like that. As yet, though, it is doubtful that there are support groups and twelve-step programs.

I wonder what "normal way of walking" means.

Probably not a purposeful stride and a willingness to hike two blocks uphill rather than waiting for the bus.

"She has to be stunning. But she also has to be between 22 and 24 years of age and have a master's degree from one of the top universities..."

My criteria are far less extreme.

She must be less than me, and at the same time more.

That is to say, shorter and younger than I am, while simultaneously more adventurous and sensible. Smaller hands and feet, yes.
More than reasonably bright, also.

Can she speak in multiple complete sentences? That is very important. Many college graduates I've met fail that last test, even if they're from Berkeley or Stanford. And I fear that the situation in mainland China is just as bad. So I shan't even think of looking there, as any woman I might be interested in has to have at least one language in common with me. A vocabulary that includes all the whiny Mandarin terms for Vuitton, Jimmie Chew, Manolo Blahnik, Cartier, and Ferrari, absolutely does not qualify in the slightest.

A very good afternoon to you, ma'am, can you talk intelligently about food?
You know, real food. Not caviar, sushi, Kobe beef, or birdsnest.
Nor wheatgrass, nutritional yeast, quinoa, and lentils.
Crucially, can you do more with tofu than cook it like an irritating Berkeley Vegan? Deep-fry it stuffed with bacon?
Do you like fatty cuts of meat?
Fresh fish?

I live in San Francisco, so you can well imagine that I'm having the damnedest time finding anyone like that.

Non-judgemental tolerance and a sense of humour are also required; those last two really skew the search. Did I perhaps already mention that I live in San Francisco?

Do the math.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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