For the past few weeks, my mother has been calling me and asking me urgent questions like, "When you said your height minimum was 6 feet, did you mean 5 foot 6?" and "Have you considered living in Philadelphia?" Then she tells me about some random Korean doctor or dentist who is "dying to meet you." I keep telling her no, and she keeps saying, "Okay," but then calling me and asking if I've changed my mind.
Finally, one day I asked her, where are you finding these dudes?
She paused. "I have a friend," she said.
Suspicious, I asked, "Is this a friend you PAY?"
She answered, "If a friend of mine HAPPENED to introduce you to a man, and you HAPPENED to marry him, then she is a good friend, and I would give that friend some money for her good friendship. Say, for example, a thousand dollars."
Which is basically gibberish that means "I signed you up for a Korean match-making service and am pimping you out to Korean doctors." It was an incredibly lawyer-like answer, and suddenly my choice in profession all made sense.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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