Which Came First, The Chicken Or The Hen

Life is truly amazing.  It hands you certain individuals that totally blows you away. I’m talking about people that do things that absolutely stand out from the crowd. The Philanthropist. Mr. or Mrs Aloha. The Extreme Optimist. The Happy Drunk. The Comic. And the ever loving individual that provokes the common response; what did you just say? Example…

a: Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

b: You’re stupid. I’m not falling for those trick questions. Chickens don’t lay eggs.

a: What did you just say?

b: What? Chickens don’t lay eggs.

a: (in sarcastic tone) Oh mighty genius, please oh please humble me in your wisdom and tell me what lays the eggs.

b: It’s the hen that lays the eggs…right?

a: Yes, the hen lays the eggs. *sigh* And a hen is what animal?

b. I dunno? Aren’t hens, hens? Stop it you’re confusing me.

a: (with pistol hand gesture, pointed at temple with firing thumb and recoil) Shit, it’s too late for that. You confused yourself a long time ago. A hen is a female chicken. Holy fuckballs.

b. Sorry blonde moment!!

a: Your life is a blonde moment.

You must treasure those special moments of mild retarded-ness, that magically blossoms in front of you. Even ones that involves hens. Or is it a chicken?

Please note, I have nothing against retards.  Or blondes.

Love Hate

The setting, Waikiki. The time, 6:30pm. The surf conditions, consistent 2-4ft, light to no wind, and a bright ass full moon. Forget the towering hotels, the eloquently dressed tourists in their matching $7.00 aloha shirt and surf shorts, the jamming sounds of Fiji under a 35 foot movie screen and completely forget the cash cow of the State of Hawaii. Tonight, it was all about the surf. Night surf. People think I’m crazy that I announce to go night surfing. But those who’ve experienced the “surfing blind” or to “surf using the Force” method, knows at
times it can rival a solid mid-day session.

Sometimes you’ll find yourself in a situation, wishing you had a camera. I would have gave my left nut for a waterproof one that had night vision video capability. Of course, I would process the images and video then ask for my left nut back. Sorry, I’m stingy with my nuts. But I’ll do my best, to paint a picture with words. Be cautious with my random brush strokes. You might lose a nut.

I recruited many. Only one made it. And she’s a six foot ninja. I tell her, we’ll be surfing blind tonight.  Then I’ll surf with both my eyes closed, she says.  Completely fearless.  I could utter condition quality all day. But non-ocean people wouldn’t understand. Here is my best attempt. Factor in wind speed, tide height, wave size, consistency, ambient city and moon lighting, and crowd numbers. When all of these are “in tune” and working in your favor, you’ve got a condition surfers call “EPIC”. This is the Love.

There is a universal law of balance, although undesirable, that stands as a necessity so that karma can still have a 9 to 5. I refer to the overcrowded beach breaks. The artificial “Aloha Spirit”, that is so artificial, quotation marks are a must. The over commercialized one mile stretch of touristy deals that suit your fancy and high priced after sun aloe lotion. The random repugnant piss smell, thanks to the houseless inhabitants. Finally, a beach that screams “If you don’t replace my sand every five years, I’m going to fucking disappear.” Sure, acknowledgement of my opinionated statements are by choice. They are definitely pessimistic. But there’s is a fine line between turning a blind eye, and seeing what something is for what it is. And it is what it is.

Waikiki. Hawaii’s bankroll, sitting on crying ‘aina that delivers virtuous recreation in it’s tranquil overcrowded waters. Love hate.

What The Apps

Yup, it’s that time again to rip on Facebook. Facebook users that is. Observe, participate, analyze. That is the crazy repetitive cycle in this noggin of mine. I’ve already done the analytical cycle with Farmville, Petville and Daily Horoscope. Choke fun. Choke defriendings. In a nutshell, plow your own damn fields, clean up your own dog shit, and I’m not a Libra so why do I care that you’re having a superb day.

Lets add Status Shuffle to that list. Because life is hard and too difficult to express in your own words. Praise the makers of an application that writes everything out for you. Praise the commenters and likers. For they truly appreciate unoriginal writings. A standing ovation, to those who use automated vocabulary. Your artificial cleverness and wit does not go unnoticed. Congratulations to those who receive kudos for something they copy. Your 4th grade intelligence impresses the shit out me.

Now, go find an app that helps deal with this sarcasm overload. via Status Shuffle.

Peeved

It really isn’t a great idea to start the day, bitching and whining about irritants. But like doing PC housekeeping, stripping off old wax, or taking out the trash, it needs to be done. Everyone has pet peeves. These are some of mine…
BIPOLAR STALKERS: Stalkers are so much fun to have. They adorn me with tons of attention. They’re harmless and mostly lurk in the shadowy parts of Facebook. But when interaction switches gears from Hi, Hello, Love you, I want your baby, To Why the fuck are you not calling back, where the fuck are you, Wah Wah Wah!! Then they become a little too much Courtney Love for me to handle.
STUPID PEOPLE: Maybe this should have been first. I know a lot of you probably have this on the top of their pet peeve list. Last night, I encountered someone who spelled friend, f r e i n d. Twice. Always, a l l w a y s. Dude, one L is enough okay. Fuel, fule and using “know” in ways the word “no”, is correct English grammar. Sorry, you don’t get points for pronunciation. And “a lot” is two words. It drives me nuts to see a bunch of thirty somethings who continuously use “alot”. Alot of bacon. Alot of waves. Alot of red lines under the the fricken ALOT word!!
GOING 35MPH IN THE LEFT LANE: Do I need to say more?
DROWNING TOURISTS: Yeah sad, but these malahini make our County Lifeguards work. If I was Lifeguard, I would be kicking back and spocking the betties all freeking day. But when monkeys who don’t understand the “rip tide”, swim against the current and get all fuck up. Then the Hollywood slow motion run, from the tower to water, kicks in. You gotta stick out the pectorals, cleave if wahine lifeguard and do the dramatic dive in the ocean, slowly so the camera doesn’t miss a bounce. By then, the buggah drownded. At least i would get a tan, from the thirty minute run from tower to water.
If I ever see someone waving hands and arms frantically in the ocean, I’m gonna wave back.

Holy Shit Shark

5:30pm. Courts, Ala Moana. A town break, known for its quick pitching face and high speed “rights”. Another Honolulu afternoon begins its farewells. Sky, orange. The typical baby blue now shunned by the distant setting sun. The ocean, now a deep bluish-green. Tinted with mirrored images of orange clouds.

Last wave in. I’m pau…

Rewind. 2:30pm. Another gorgeous day in Hawaii. Time to catch the few remaining waves of the dying south swell. I take a quick spin through the park. Oogling over the bettys working on their tans. I parallel
park my shit mobile. Wax up the board. Give the quick head jolt and throw a lazy shaka to the uncles next to me. They head jolt me back. But too lazy to put down their green bottles for a return shaka. Minors. They’ve refined the art of enjoying the afternoon in the city. Cooler. Beer. Beach. Laughter. Simplicity at it’s finest.

There’s not much to do while waiting in between sets. I stare at the postcard image of Diamond Head. It stares back but says nothing. I take a dive to cool off from the blazing Hawaiian sun. Going as deep as I can before equalizing. Look, a kala.! There IS fish on Oahu. A lung full of air I breath, as I surface facing the city. A rainbow, sitting pretty in the valley of Manoa. Reflections of other reflections off the twenty story glass pane monstrosities. Blue Hawaiian Chopper tours whizzes by. A honu comes up for air as well. Boring. Enough with writing poetry in my head. Send some damn waves already.

I surf the afternoon away, building up an appetite. Almost evening. Last wave in. Im pau…

Set comes. I huli my 10’0″ and face it to Manoa Valleys rainbow. Paddle. Drop in. Bottom turn. 10 foot shark. A beauty of a fish. Dark grayish brown back. Head, twice the size of mine. But seriously, why the fuck you gotta swim on the same wave as me Mr. Shark. I don’t like to share. But there he was. As long as my ten foot tanker. I almost jumped off my board because of his proximity. He could of held my right side rail with his fin if he wanted to. But that would be asinine if I did. Because, in the water, is last place I want to be. Out of fear, I turn over control of my body to my brain. HOLY SHIT SHARK!! is what comes out of my mouth. My left hand, uncontrollably imitates a shark fin and rests itself on the top of my head. More profanities are being spit out. I’m rusty on Jesus Christ moves, so the whole walk on water miracle wasn’t going to happen. I surf straight in. Fuck the cutbacks and nose rides. No tricks on this wave. My Japanese eyes aren’t Japanese anymore. It transforms into menpachi eyes. I didn’t know my asian eyes could stretch that much. My body glues itself to the board. I surf past a stand up paddler. He chuckles and smiles, asking, “What, you seen one shark?” I point behind me with my unused hand, dropping more F bombs. “He fucking right there!” “Fucking huge!” It was a lie, of course. I didn’t know where the shark went. I didn’t want to look.

Finally reach shore. Safe. Laugh. Thinking, oh my god, I must’ve looked like a fool. Imagining the other surfers out there witnessing my reactions and what they must be thinking. “How’s this moron coming down the wave, with severe tourettes and his shark fin hand on his head?” I learned something about myself. My vulgarity levels multiply and when scared shit less, I become a master at Charades. Other than that, it was the the most exciting “last wave” in my life.

I ironically cook fish for dinner, in tribute of the close encounter. Resembling the moment that I was almost fish food. Tomorrow, surf. This time I’ll bring a bucket. If this shit happens again, at least I’ll have something to carry all the bricks that I’ll shit out.

Food For Thought. Part 1.

Recently, my Facebook page has been acting weird, giving me a headache. Loading half-ass, stupid grey box doesn’t go away after I poke someone, and trouble commenting on and publishing updates. Which may be a good thing. In my search through Google, tech forums, and countless blogs, I came across a few interesting articles. So interesting, they totally distracted me from seeking the answers I was looking for.

This quick Q&A interview with a Facebook Psychologist…who would of thought there was one…captured
my attention because his beliefs, reaffirmed most of mine. The following is easier to understand if you read the Q&A blog post.
We are still yet in the infant stages of social networking. Sure, myspace was around before fb, but where myspace failed, fb succeeded and continues to define how social networking came to be. Did you know fb has over 400mill users and is worth over $10bill? This craziness is in different countries too. Instead in the Philippines, they log into Facebookbook. My continuous journey through the mecca of social networking began with much observation. I began with asking myself many “WHY” questions, as I noticed consistencies in what people share. To have my brain work more efficiently, I mentally grouped most people based on what they post.
Persistent Application Updaters. aka, P.A.U. This group, specializes in letting the world know how they feel through facebook applications. Persistently. Granted, some apps are advantageous by being shared. i.e. Mafia Wars and Castle Age, where gamers seek help from teammates. None the less, majority of their updates are app related. Write nothing, app everything. All pau. My thoughts of P.A.U are here.

Consistent Updating Neurotic Trademark Symptoms aka C.U.N.T.S. People in this group treat their fb account as if it was Twitter and everyone else are their followers. I had a friend who was the inspiration for this category. No joke, she posted every 5 min. By the end of the day, my news feed was littered with just her posts. e.g.”____is uploading photos to computer!” 5min later…”____is waiting for photos to upload!” 5min later…”____ is still waiting for photos to upload!” Fucking shoot me. But C.U.N.T.S. are simply striving for attention. I complied by commenting “take your head out of your lap.” after she posted ” something smells dead!!” I never got a thank you.
Drama Obtuse Updaters Casually Happy Enthusiasts aka D.O.U.C.H.E. Similar to C.U.N.T.S., members of this group yearn for attention. They go about it by sharing cryptic melodramatic sayings. I don’t know about you guys, but the only time I listen to anything melancholy, is through Alanis Morissettes lyrics. She makes listening to hate, catchy and sing-alongable. Because I got one hand in my pocket, and the other ones giving you a high five…to your face. More about D.O.U.C.H.E.s here.
People post what they post because of how they perceive themselves and how they want others to perceive them. Regardless of group type. There are no pros and cons of being a particular group. Simply, it is a way I mentally organize what I read. It is mere coincidence that these acronyms seem familiar to words in our slang vocabulary. I’m not smart or clever enough to make these up. Having categorized my network, it frees up time to spend on people I want to converse with and eliminates the need to tend to members of P.A.U., D.O.U.C.H.E or C.U.N.T.S. Of course there are many who don’t belong in any of these groups. People of inspiration, humor, and sensitivity. I’ts an unnamed category because fb is ever changing. And so are it’s users.

11 Ways to use Bitstrips

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