This is how I talk your ear off

I’ve finally dug myself out of my grave like a zombie. I’m still alive!

It’s been a hectic month and a half. My mom’s visit from California was a lot of fun. I can’t tell you how much I love being tour guide. It’s like being a tourist yourself. It’s also nice to get to spend some time with my mother and talk about life. She’s been hinting a lot that I should get married soon. And somehow it’s been working because I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

The swineflu pandemic is not letting up. Everyday it seems more and more people are getting sick and that means longer working hours for us. With state funds running dry we are sometimes forced to work extra hours all for the love of public service. I guess that’s just part of being a civil servant.

Working long hours has not been good to my health. Every time I come home all I want to do is just plop into bed and hibernate till next spring. I went to the doctor last week and found out that my A1C has shot up and she’d have to increase my dosage from 850 to 1000. The last thing I want are stronger meds. So I told her to hold off on it until my schedule gets a little bit bearable. Then I’ll have more time to workout and cook at home. But since my schedule hasn’t gotten better I’m forced to work around it. So now instead of running 3 miles twice a week, I run 1 mile once a week, and do 10 minute body weight workouts when I get the chance. So far it’s been working great and my blood sugar has been slowly decreasing.

I was planning on going back to California for a week vacation this August but with the swineflu not letting up means that vacation at work remains suspended. So, I guess the earliest I could take vacation would be sometime around early December.

These are the updates on my part of the woods. I know I’m just babbling here.

Got beef?

I must have burned at least a 1000 calories that day, because once I got out of the water my knees were rattling like two maracas in a conga line. I zigzagged my way across the uneven sand towards the showers to wash off the sand and the salt. The sun is already fading into a grayish red and the cool evening breeze is making my teeth chatter.

I raced across the street to score some ono grindz (local speak for good food) at the Ala Moana Mall’s food court. I usually order steak dinner after a nice swim but today I decided to get something different. Something healthy. I order some grilled chicken over rice and some leafy greens on the side, because it makes me feel good when I pretend I’m eating healthy.

I was leisurely enjoying my pretend healthy meal when a little boy, about four years old, started to gag and regurgitate his food onto his father’s hand. The father, furious at his son’s antics, began to reprimand the little boy.

“Why are you putting so much sh*t in your mouth, son? Just grab a small bite and then f*ckin’ chew!”

The boy feeling sorry for failing his father’s expectation looked down with tears rolling down his cheeks. He sobbed for a few seconds and then looked up towards his dad and said:”Sorry dad, I’m gonna grab just a little bite so I wont choke. Because if I eat too fast I’m gonna choke, right dad?” As he slowly wiped the tears off his eyes.

“That’s right son. So eat your sh*t slowly. Chew it very well. And then f*ckin’ swallow. Okey?”

Cursing in front of children is something that really irks me. I wanted to say something. I wanted to put that man in his place. But he has biceps the size of Texas and pecs as massive as the USS Enterprise’s hull. So I held my tongue instead. Because I’m pretty sure had I said something I would have probably ended up at the county hospital’s intensive care unit with knuckle marks dented into my skull and a few missing limbs. I think I just made the wisest decision in my life.

An Epic Adventure

Today I walked out of the Waikele McDonalds’ womens bathroom. At 8:00 in the morning. I didn’t realize it after I got a weird stare from a guy sitting just outside the bathroom. I bought an Egg McMuffin and Sausage McMuffin out of guilt.

Something worth telling the grandkids about. I guess.

Best over a bottle of beer

I once kissed a French bride on a gondola ride down in Saleve. She said I didn’t kiss her correctly. So I had to kiss her again: three times on alternating cheek. The crowd cheered when I got it right.

—

In Kyoto we rode the bicycle around the city looking for the Imperial Palace. I stopped a man to ask for directions. He ran away and hid behind the lady walking behind him like a little boy. A mild case of Hikikomori perhaps? Or maybe it’s his way of saying I could use a few more tic-tacs.

—

We were looking for a karaoke bar in Itaewon. We saw a big sign that say カラオケ. As we walked in we were greeted by hunky Korean men dressed in sharp suits reeking of pheromones. Then I realized that norebang was more of the word we were looking for. I had to scrub myself three times with soap and water when I got home, trying to wash away the “wrong vibe.”

—

On a Shinkansen ride to Tokyo a French woman was staring at me. So I smiled at her. We ended up talking for the remainder of the 4-hour train ride. She was visiting her brother who just got promoted. It was her second time in Japan. She was traveling alone armed with only her strong will and her trusted Lonely Planet. She was 6 feet tall with a heavy West African accent. She left me with these words of wisdom:”A quelque chose malheur est bon.” She was quite a brave and wise woman.

—

In a kaiten sushiya in Kobe I was dared by friends to ask the waitress for her cellphone number. Being the type that never backs down on a dare I went up to her. She had pretty eyes. Sparkling eyes to be precise. Using my ultra-sophisticated Japanese conversational skills I told her: “Kimi no me wa kira-kira.” Surprised at my smooth move she turned around covered her mouth and giggled. So I went in for the kill. Keitai no bango moraimasu ka? Ii desu ka? I asked. She just stood there laughing while the big “Jackass” sign was flashing in my forehead.

—

After crossing the border to Tijuana we were a little apprehensive to take the short stroll in the dark Mexican streets. So we took a taxi instead. I told the driver using my best Speedy Gonzales impression to take us to the best club in Tijuana. He took us to the best club alright. Me and my cousin stood in front of the club named Chicago, sticking out like a sore thumb — I was wearing a bright yellow jacket. We were the only asians in the vicinity. Everybody else was in cowboy get-up and dancing to mariachi music. We looked at each other and asked, where are all the Americans?

Though your heart is aching

I was walking down Kalakaua Ave. in Waikiki one day when all of a sudden this cute young brunette flashed a winning smile at me and said hi. Dumbfounded at the sequence of events, I flashed back a confused look with a wry smile at her, as we walked passed each other. I scratched my head and wondered what I had done to warrant that million dollar smile from her. Then it occured to me.

where the heck did my eyes go?

You see, I am one of the few people on this planet afflicted with this rare but incurable medical condition known as the perpetual smiley-faceyitisoma (actual medical term). It is a disease that affects the mucles of the face, giving the person a perpetual smiling look. It’s like as if you had botox while watching a funny movie – leaving your face in a constant state of joy.

In alot of ways it is actually beneficial, almost like having mutant super powers. Like a young superman trying to master his super powers, I grew up learning to wield this affliction to my advantage (only for the good humanity of course). So, let me enumerate the few advantages of this affliction:

1. I usually get alot of compliments esp. from girls.
2. It works great as a kid whenever I get into trouble. Every time dad pulls out the old leather belt to give you a good ole lickin because you dug a hole in the backyard deep enough to spy on the Chinese government, just flash that cheesy smile of yours and you’re almost guaranteed a leather proof rear. How can you lay a hand (or leather belt for this instance) on someone with a cheesy smile like that (pictured above)? Seriously?
3. It works great on job interviews. Every time the interviewer asks you one of those “WTH-did-you-just-ask-me?” questions, and you’re sweating bullets as you pull the answers from deep in the recesses of your colon. Just flash that cheesy smile of yours after you’ve given your “I-have-no-idea-WTH-I-just-said?” response. That will almost always make the interviewer forget what you said and hand you the keys to his porche and his private cabana? But of course you’re using this for the benefit of mankind so you should hand him back his keys.

Well, like every super power it has its limitations. You see, like Superman, despite his unlimited strength and speed, and the ability to fly, he has poor sense of fashion. Take for example the wearing of the red underwear outside the tights, or the need for a belt with buckle to hold up that tight red underwear. And those red boots over the blue tights? WTH? That doesn’t exactly equate to trendsetter.

So the downside to this great power is that:

1. Though I may get alot of compliments from girls but it sometimes borders creepy.
   

   you're freaking me out man!

2. Sending the wrong signal whenever I visit San Francisco. Nuff said.
3. Giving uppity girls a reason to be more uppity – “I’m not checking you out nor am I flirting with you that’s just how my face is molded.“
4. It’s so wrong to show up for someones funeral with a creepy smile permanently etched in your face. It’s like attending someones birthday party and puking all over their cake. Not nice.
5. It would make it difficult to express a remorseful countenance to the judge while on trial for a certain infraction – “Wipe that silly grin off your face son! You are in the court of law.“
6. Lastly, it would be difficult to call in a fake a sickie. Look at that picture above. Do you think that that would convince the boss to give you the day off when you tell him that your left lung has been the site for the pathogenic organism’s townhall meeting?

Me: Boss, I can’t make it to work today. I’m feeling a little under the weather.

Boss: WHAT?!!! It can’t be?!! Yesterday your face suggests that your life is full of rainbows and unicorns. Now get your butt out here.

So, with that you can make the conclusion that not only does great power come with great responsibility but also with fewer upside. So, guess who I’ll be for Halloween?

On the avian mafia hit list

I’m normally not a bad driver (Although my girlfriend would probably tell you otherwise, but don’t believe her. She’s almost never awake when I’m behind the wheel anyway). Anyway, this morning as I was driving up the hill on Waimano Home Road on my way to work, I was too busy enjoying the bright morning sun, and the cool morning breeze when all of a sudden out of nowhere there’s this thing flying towards my car. I can’t make out what that black object heading towards my car was since the sun’s glare was blinding. I just heard a loud thud as the object hit my windshield.

I was like, “what the crap??!!!”, and wondered what that thing that hit me was. Was it a baseball? There’s a high school close by and the object that hit my car was about the size of a baseball. Barry Bonds doesn’t exaclty live around Pearl City and I’m sure from the impact alone it would have left some damage to my windshield. Was it a flying Menehune then? Well mythical as they may be, they’re not exactly known to have the power of flight. So what the heck could that be?

I looked back at my rearview mirror and saw a ball of gray feathers come crashing back down to earth. That’s avian casualty #4!

I’ve never hit any form of terrestrial animal in the last 14 years I’ve been driving. And hitting a bird would be the most unlikely thing to happen since birds spend most of their time suspended in air or perched on tree tops and power lines, right? So technically the odds of hitting one would be lower. Right? But apparently not so. I’ve killed 4 birds in a span of 6 months. On the same stretch of road. At about the same time everytime. So, I can only conclude two things: (1) my 2004 Honda Civic is on a murderous avian rampage, or (2) the birds around this side of town are hardlined extremist on a suicide mission to cleanse the island from sexy Filipino men.

For some reason I’d like to think that the latter would be the best possible explanation. I don’t know why.

Hajimemashite Yamasaki-san!

When I was still living in L.A. people can never tell what my ethnic background is. I’m often mistaken to be Chinese, Korean, Japanese, or Thai, but rarely Filipino.

I thought in Hawaii they might have a better chance of figuring it out since the majority of the people, especially here in O’ahu, are of Asian descent. But apparently that’s not really the case. Having a Japanese girlfriend doesn’t make it any easier either.

A few Sundays ago as me and my girlfriend were about to enter church for worship service, one of the lady ushers came up to me and asked, “Are you Mr. Yamasaki?“, I politely said no. Then she followed that question with, “Are you related to the Yamasakis? Because you really look like him.” I politely replied, sorry I’m not, I’m not even Japanese. She gave me an embarassed look and apologized. My girlfriend couldn’t help but giggle because the more time I spend with her the more people mistaken me to be Japanese.