JUSTFIVELETTERS

Is it him? The one that really understands me? The one I’ve been waiting for? My soul mate?

Me with a beard — I guess this is a more accurate depiction of the male version of me.

Okay, let’s be real here. I don’t believe in soul mates. But I do believe that I met, at the very least, the male version of me tonight. And I’ll call him Scruff. He had some nice facial hair going on.

There Scruff and I was, at the front door of Saigon Noodles, reaching for the door at the same time. Like a true gentleman, he let me go in first. I asked for a table for one, and immediately he did the same. Connection #1.

As I sat down, my eyes followed him to his seat–the table diagonal from me where I could watch him, but not vice versa [insert evil laugh]. Yup, I’m officially the world’s creepiest diner. I opened up my latest issue of The Economist and noticed he also brought in the paper. Dining alone to catch up on some news? Connection #2.

We both ordered our food, and the waiter brought out our spring rolls. I thought I was the only fatty in the world who would shamelessly order an appetizer and an entree for one. Connection #3.

Later, our noodle soups were delivered to the table and I smiled at the thought that we both ordered pretty much the same thing. As we began to dig into our respective entrees, I noticed he took out a pen and flipped to the crossword. This is where my heart skipped a beat.

Dining alone while working on a crossword? Did Scruff realize that ever since college I brought a crossword puzzle with me 99% of the time I dined alone? Let me tell you friend, I go out to eat a lot on my own. And the one time I decided to read my new subscription to The Economist I am able to live vicariously through this young, bearded stranger and his word puzzle? (Okay, I confess I ripped out the crossword from somebody’s paper the other day and worked on it at lunch).

crosswordheart — My heart: maybe he’s the one to “fill in the blanks”? (Don’t puke, please).

Will I ever encounter this wonderful man ever again? Could we have a future where Scruff and I both go out to eat, share an appetizer, and get through the crossword together? Or perhaps this was me staring into another dimension where I’m a tall, lean, white cruciverbalist male in his twenties?

I will never know.

The only thing I can count on is that if I ever see him again, going through the same ritual, I will either make it a table for two or kill him because I’m tired of not being my own person.

This is Amy Hu signing off for August 30th, 2012.

Let’s Get Ready to ~~RUMBLE~~ STUUUUUUMBLE!

I just cannot WAIT for Skyfall to come out in theaters. And yes, it’s because of Daniel Craig.

Something just paralyzes every fiber of my body when I see Daniel Craig. I’m completely defenseless against him–like kryptonite for Superman or chocolate during my menstrual cycle. Total submission. Maybe it’s his incredible physique. Or perhaps his piercing blue eyes. Or his breathtaking ability in ass-kicking. Or his rugged, I-don’t-give-a-damn-about-anything attitude. Or his heart for justice because he dressed in drag once for a gender equality PSA for women. Or he married my favorite actress, Rachel Weisz, this past year.

But if I was really honest with myself, I think it’s just because I want to have his babies. I could make the world a better place with these magnificent Hapa offspring. And yes, I’d enjoy the conception process more obviously. (keke oh my!)

Daniel Craig - Casino Royale — So not fair, right?

I remember the first time I realized that a man could actually take my breath away on screen during my early 20s (I had finally moved on from strapping young men of my age like Jake Gyllenhaal and Joshua Jackson) was when I was watching “Casino Royale” in theaters with one of my closest friends, Mel. The moment Daniel Craig came out of that ocean water in that tight, baby-blue number, I got so flustered that I grabbed Mel’s forearm and simply said, “Oh my God.” She didn’t even flinch and gave me the most sympathetic “I know” look. We were two helpless college women, sweating in our theater seats as 007 continued to destroy everyone around him for the woman he loved, and of course in the most stylish and form-fitting clothes that eventually all came off during a torture scene. If only I could break through the door and save him in that moment. But then again, I’d end up being the one needing rescue if I actually encountered Daniel Craig like that. I’d pass out in a second. Maybe two (just long enough to take a mental picture to last a lifetime).

And here’s the PSA that he did on gender equality. What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man: