Dear Journal,

In light of all the celebrities passing away within the last couple of weeks, I have decided to take a more serious tone for today's entry. This is an entry that I had actually intended to write over a year ago but kept putting it off because I didn't feel I could do it justice. Now I feel the need to write it, despite imperfections, and regardless of any lack of eloquence or compelling nature.

On April 29, 2008, I lost a friend. Her name was Lynn, and she was only 35. We attended SCU together. While she ended up coming back to Hawaii after our freshman year, we kept in touch over the years. Although I didn't see or talk to her on a regular basis, we enjoyed each other's company when we did speak or get together. Last year, after speaking with Lynn on the phone for an especially long time and telling her that I was getting ready to go on my first trip to Okinawa and Japan, I received this email from her:



When I came back from my trip, I was exhausted and had a lot to catch up on. I didn't end up calling Lynn right away to arrange our date to meet. Then I got a call from a mutual friend. He informed me that Lynn had passed away. I can barely describe how I felt at that moment and the during the minutes and even hours that followed. I honestly could not wrap my brain around what I had just heard. I was in absolute disbelief.

I would have to admit that I have a fear of death. While I wouldn't call it a debilitating fear by any means, I do find myself thinking about how I am going to deal with the eventual loss of those who go before me. There are times when I am preoccupied with this to the extent that I am reminded of the young poet in Freud's "On Transience" who was unable to enjoy the beauty that surrounded him because he could only think of its transience and eventual and inevitable demise. I sometimes feel that I experience this anticipatory mourning and, in doing so, miss out on the enjoyment of the time that I do have with my loved ones.

I have come to the realization that I can never prepare myself for the loss of a loved one. It is with that realization that I try to remind myself to enjoy their company to the fullest extent while I can.

While my thoughts as described above are usually in reference to my elder family members, it is an event like Lynn's death that really slaps you upside the head. It makes you realize just how fragile life is. Any one of us could go at any moment.

Since Lynn's passing, I have tried to make an effort to keep in better touch with the friends with whom I am not in regular contact. There are so many people whom I think about but hardly ever see or talk to anymore because of both our schedules. However, I have all but renounced the word "busy" as an excuse for not keeping in touch. If it is a priority, there is always time, even if it's just a quick call, an occasional forwarded email, or a short text message. I just want my friends to know that I do think about them (probably more often than they realize).

I am so thankful that, although I was unable to see and hug Lynn one last time, our last conversation was a good one. I only wish she could have been around to see Ken and I finally get married, as she would always jokingly remind me to invite her to our wedding every time I spoke with her. I know she will be there in spirit.

Of course, today is Haiku Friday, so here it goes:

And to you, my friend
I give my trust and respect
Lifelong bond to share

See the beauty now
Wasted thoughts on transience
Live with no regrets

I would like to share two songs that will always remind me of my friend. I miss you, Lynn. I'll see you later... </div>

I still haven't seen the Sex and the City movie, but one of my friends had alerted me to this clip because of its relevance. Ken and I started dating on Christmas Eve 1998, and on December 24, 2008, we finally got engaged. For those of us who know us, it was never really a question of whether we would get married or not; it was more a question of when. Once we passed the first year honeymoon phase and got through the second and third getting-to-really-know -you-and-seeing-if-I-can-deal-with-it years, we basically felt and acted like a married couple. However, neither of us was in a huge rush to tie the knot. We went through a period of a few years when everyone else we knew on the planet decided to get married and, quite frankly, we were both kind of sick of the whole wedding thing. The thought of planning my own wedding at that time just kind of made me gag.

After that, my motto became, "I don't really feel like I need to get married until I'm ready to have kids." Fair enough, right? Well, then all of my friends started having their first, second, and even third kids, and it started scaring me. As cute as all the kids were, I was slightly mortified by all the crying, diaper changing, sleeplessness, and pure mayhem that was immediately infused into my friends' new lives of parenthood. I've always known that I've wanted kids, but I just wasn't so sure that I was ready to basically give up my life as I knew it. I hadn't done everything I wanted to do as an individual without kids yet.

Well, within the last year or so, my eggs have been starting to ask when they were eligible for Social Security.

Ken and I both took notice of this and decided that, ready or not, we'd better get a move on.

So here we are, 6 months after getting engaged, and we have yet to set a date.

My friends have always teased me that I would need at least 2 years to plan my wedding, that I would absolutely have to hire a wedding coordinator to do the whole thing for me, or that my wedding would be a budget-buster. They knew that I'm a perfectionist who would want to make sure that everything was just right.

And they knew that the wedding planning would stress me out of my mind and drive me nuts.

It had actually been relatively painless up until this point. With a Spring 2010 wedding in mind, I felt like I had enough time. I started reading a few wedding mags, browsed through theknot.com, bookmarked ideas I liked, and looked for wedding locations. Ken and I were both against a traditional hotel wedding, so we decided on searching for a private estate to hold both the ceremony and the reception.

A couple of months ago, I thought I had finally found THE perfect location, but when it turned out that the fee would be almost that of a foreclosed home in Vegas (okay, so maybe that's not saying much), my dreams were shattered, and all I felt was this.  Sure, we could still rent the place if our guests didn't mind a potluck.

After some moments of despair, moping, and spending way too much time talking to the cats, I've tried to pick myself up from that blow, and I'll be looking at another potential private estate today. I'm crossing my fingers that I am just going to fall in love with this place so we can finally get this shindig underway. If that doesn't happen, you can be sure that more of my latent OCD behaviors will start appearing. Unfortunately, I don't think one of them is cleaning.

It's Haiku Friday! I'm going to keep it simple today with my haiku. I can't be stressing about writing works of art. I have a wedding to plan, dammit.

Stress, expensive stress
Stress and more expensive stress
Hello, OCD

Perfect dress exists
Only perfect if it fits
Hi, P90X


Please share your haiku on the topic WEDDINGS! Remember, in order to be eligible to win a prize, please post on our Facebook page or send a tweet my way! I will repost Twitter entries on the Facebook page.

I can't stand it any longer.  Someone needs to settle this issue and put it out in the public realm for all to clearly see NOW.

 

Yesterday, I tweeted my irritation that this NY Times article, then titled "In Hawaii, Korea Strike Looms as New Threat," used the word "Hawaiian" when referring to Hawaii residents.

 

Today, as if mocking my dissatisfaction, I found that the title of the article was changed:

I am sick of hearing people, particularly journalists, refer to all Hawaii residents as "Hawaiians."  Before I elaborate on my beef with this, let me just say that I understand that basically all dictionaries out there will, in fact, define the term as such.  Here are a few examples.

 

It is clear to me, though, that someone from Hawaii (not a "Hawaiian") did not write these entries.  I've made some notes in red to show how a Hawaii resident might edit the entries to show much more emphasis on the native and indigenous reference.  In Hawaii, it is well known that the term "Hawaiians" is specifically reserved for those of Hawaiian ancestry, whether they live in Hawaii or not.  It is a matter of respect for a people whose culture and blood has been drastically diluted over the years.

If I went to live in Germany, would that make me German?  I think it would be pretty hard to convince someone that with my dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, and yellow undertone that I was anything but a German resident or, perhaps if I'd decided to stay, a German citizen.  But German?  No.
 

I can imagine a popular argument that if one who lives in California is a Californian, one who lives in Oregon is an Oregonian, then why isn't one who lives in Hawaii a Hawaiian?  The simple answer to that is because there is actually an indigenous people of Hawaii, and they are called Hawaiians.

 

As a Hawaii resident of non-Hawaiian ancestry, this is what I think when I read Mr. Archibold's article: 

 

"Antimissile interceptors are in place, the Defense Department said, and Hawaiians watched the other day as a giant, towering radar commonly known as the golf ball set out to sea from the base where it is normally moored."

 

Only Hawaiians watched?  Were the Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Filipino, Vietnamese, Portuguese, Caucasian and other Hawaii residents not watching?  Must've been a pretty small group watching.

 

"But among Hawaiians, skepticism is mixed with annoyance and even anger that their state, hypothetically at least, could be a testing ground."

 

Well, it's good to know that it's only the Hawaiians who are annoyed.  If all the other Hawaii residents felt the same way, that could be a serious issue.

 

"Mele Connor, 55, a lifelong Hawaiian shopping with visitors from the mainland at a clothing store in Waikiki, laughed off the threat."

 

Isn't the term "lifelong Hawaiian" kind of redundant?  If you're of Hawaiian ancestry, aren't you going to be that way for your entire life?  Mele, are you really Hawaiian, or do you just happen to have a Hawaiian name?  My guess is that you're part Hawaiian, but if you're not, don't worry: I know you didn't tell Mr. Archibold that you were a "lifelong Hawaiian."

 

As Hawaii has been increasingly put in the spotlight in recent years due in large part to the rise of prominent public figures with Hawaii roots (not the least of whom is some guy named Obama), I have been disturbed by the misuse of the term "Hawaiians."  I honestly cannot recall EVER reading in the local newspapers an article to which a local journalist makes this mistake.  My question is, why is it taking so long for other journalists (and even better, the public at large) to be educated on this distinction?

 

Is it because we have simply been patient, thinking that eventually, this misuse would be corrected?  Did we assume that somehow someone would get the word out to the rest of the world through the magical mass communication grapevine powered by the internet?  Well, that's how I looked at it up until this point.  I'm not a journalist, nor do I play one on tv.  I'm not in an influential position by any means to get this thing straightened out.  I have my own work to do, and I really don't have time to be writing about this at all.  I'm sure a number of other Hawaii residents feel the same way.

 

Mr. Archibold, I'm not going to blame you for your gaffe.  You are not the first, nor will you be the last person to make this mistake.  I am, however, politely asking that you heed my advice of discontinuing your current usage of the word "Hawaiian" and encouraging other journalists to do the same.  It's time to spread the word.

 

I am a Japanese-Korean American who lives in Hawaii.  I am a Hawaii resident.  I am not, have never been, and never will be Hawaiian.

 

Perhaps I can make a plea to the President to help get this in order.  I'm sure he knows he's never been Hawaiian, either.

 

 

Earlier this week, Ken and I went to the Ala Wai Golf Course driving range to whack a few balls.  This was the first time I had swung a club in eons; I honestly couldn't even remember the last time I had been to the driving range.  I initially thought maybe 3 years, but Ken insisted that it was more like 5.  In any case, it was long enough for both my golf glove to deteriorate and for me to know better than to bring only a few clubs (P, 9 and 7 irons, and 5 wood) with me.  Just to make things clear, I am not and never have been an LPGA contender.  I think I can count the number of times I've played an entire course on one hand.

 

It always amazes me how people can even hit golf balls consistently.  From the time you address the ball to the time the club makes contact with it, there are like a gazillion ways you can move your body - even just the tiniest bit - so that your ball doesn't go the way you want it, or for many novices, simply doesn't go anywhere at all.

 

Anyway, considering how long it had been since I'd picked up a club, I actually wasn't as bad as either Ken or I were expecting.

 

I did, however, require quite a bit of mental imagery and concentration, which was suddenly disrupted when our range neighbor finished his bucket of balls and a quartet of teenage neophytes replaced him.  From the moment they arrived with the one 5 wood they all shared and their 2 inch rubber tee, the talking, talking louder, and talking even louder was nonstop.  As soon as one would finish a sentence, another would pick up where he left off.

 

Naturally, I was dying to say something or at least give them my very unattractive irritated face to see if they caught the hint.  I thought to myself, "Have you never watched golf on tv?  Have you never noticed that they are always communicating in little over a whisper?  Well, there's a reason for that, you tools."

 

Once when I was just getting ready to hit a ball, one of them suddenly exclaimed, "Strike two!" as one of their fraternity brothers whiffed at his ball.  I almost lost it.

 

I have nothing against having a little fun.  I have nothing against going to the driving range when you suck a** (obviously, as I was there).  What I do have a problem with is rudeness, especially when you suck a**.  I mean, have a little respect for the real golfers and the other people who suck who aren't being rude.  Some might argue that these kids just didn't know any better because they are new to the game.  My response: that's no excuse.  It doesn't take a genius to quickly observe that nobody around you is making nearly as much noise as you are.  If you're a novice, you should be particularly attuned to trying to observe the etiquette.

 

Then it came to my attention that maybe they just didn't care.

 

 

It's Haiku Friday, folks!  I'm still working on changing up the format of this thing to be more participant-friendly, but for now, we're still accepting entries on our Facebook page.  If you still want to get your haiku on but don't care about prizes, feel free to post here or tweet it to me.

 

As always, I'll start!  Today's topic is GOLF - just in time for the U.S. Open!  Thankfully, Bethpage dried out enough after the rain delay.  Talk about row, row, row your boat yesterday.

 

Oh, little white ball

Elusive while sitting still

Taunts me every swing

 

And my slightly less poetic one:

 

Incessant talking

I'm trying to concentrate

Please shut the f*** up

 

Okay, now have a great weekend!  I'll be looking for your haiku!

I've been feeling a little guilty lately for having all but completely abandoned my sad little excuse of a blog.  This is not to say that I am at all surprised that this happened after scarcely a year or so.  My expectations were rather low for someone who has always taken forever (and ever and ever) to write anything.  I was never one of those people who could just plop their asses down at a computer and have their fingers start flying at warp speed with an effusion of eloquence.

 

It was partly for this reason that I decided to blog in the first place.  I figured that the more I wrote, the easier and more enjoyable it would get.  Furthermore, as a self-employed individual, while I've developed a pretty respectable amount of discipline, I've found that sometimes the absence of more external pressures (e.g., a mean boss, competitive co-workers, etc.) I wanted to challenge myself to do something and stick to it for the mere reason that I was telling myself to do it.  Finally, as I mentioned in my very first blog entry, I wanted to blog to keep a log of memories for personal purposes.  It's one thing to throw together a scrapbook and look at pictures of major life events and such, but it's another thing to document sometimes random thoughts of the moment.  I want to be able to tell my yet unborn children one day, "Look at what mommy was thinking when she was just 36 a spring chicken!"

 

And so it is with that recap that I will once again give it a go.  Round 2 - bring it on!  (DING!)

 

I'm gonna bring it back with the return of Haiku Friday, which was sorely missed by at least 2 people!  Woot!

 

Today's topic is social media.  Yes, social media, the two words - often succeeded by the word "marketing" - I have been hearing incessantly everywhere I eat, sleep, and breathe.  Apparently, according to the experts, this is how I am going to take Grumpy Girl to the next level and become a multi-millionaire!  Well, okay then!

 

I've been on Facebook since late 2007 with a personal account, and it's been the greatest way to catch up with old friends and even meet some new ones.  But apparently, since I also own a business, this is not enough!  No, no!  I must be using it to promote my business!  And I must not forget Twitter - OMG, Twitter!  I totally have to tweet, and then get other people to tweet about Grumpy Girl, and then become so hugely popular that Oprah can't ignore me!  Yes!

 

Ugh.

 

This all sounded to me like a lot of work for someone who could barely find time to blog once a week or effectively manage an email campaign.  I mean, I've been reading about harnessing the power of social media for quite some time now, but I still haven't seen the light in terms of a specific plan of implementation that would be more likely to deliver results than waste time.

 

Thanks in part to the recession (read: more time on my hands), I've finally decided to dip my toe in the magic elixir water.  I've set up a Grumpy Girl Clothing Facebook page.  Relatively harmless.  It would be nicer with some fans, but hey, one step at a time.  Now here comes the worst part: I've joined the masses of Twitter.  Mind you, this was only after being cajoled into it almost in a manner of having to tap-out UFC-style.  Up until this point, I've been avoiding Twitter like the swine flu (trying to keep it current here), refusing to even so much as visit the site.

 

Anyway, I'm still trying to figure it all out in a way that makes sense to me.   I can see where Twitter can serve different purposes for different people, but right now, it's serving me oatmeal.

 

So...Haiku Friday is back with a bang!  Not only am I going to haiku and invite you to do the same, we are going to add some friendly competition and prizes to the mix because soliciting free haiku from you is so 2008!

 

Here is the kicker: the Haiku Friday competition will be held on none other than our Grumpy Girl Facebook page!  Ha!  So strategic am I.  Yes, this means that if you want to participate (as I know thousands upon thousands of you do), you have to first become a GG Facebook fan.

 

So come with me now (waving my Bejeweled Blitz carpal tunnel arm in a beckoning motion) to Facebook and submit your haiku on the topic of social media!  Please make sure to read the note titled, "Haiku Friday Contest Rules."

 

Twitter neophyte

Filtering out the mundane

"Long line at Starbucks"

 

It's all about me

Capturing your attention

"I ate fish for lunch"

 

A quick tweet or two

A comment on Facebook now

Sh**, it's 5:00

*** If you really don't want to become a Facebook fan for a chance to win stuff (hey, maybe you don't like our stuff) but just want to haiku for the hell of it, by all means, feel free to do so for the sheer love and admiration of the 5 people reading this.  Yeah!  :cheerleader kick: ***

 

What an overpopulated, stinkin' mess.



Can someone please tell me why I keep hearing our governor and mayor lament about the fact that tourism is down and that we need to do something to encourage more people to come over here and fight for their square foot of standing space?

Now before anyone puts on their combative face, let me first acknowledge that I understand that tourism is Hawaii's bread and butter and that tourists bring a lot to our state.  I have nothing against tourists as individual people.  It's their vacation, and I hope they have a most enjoyable time just as much as I would like to have a good time wherever I go for vacation.  However, given that Hawaii just seems to be getting more and more congested, instead of trying to entice more people to squeeze in, shouldn't we see this as a most opportune time to seriously start investing in other sectors that can help grow and DIVERSIFY our economy?  I keep hearing local politicians talk about it from time to time, but is anything really being done about it?  I have to wonder.

The survival of any organism, business, community, or society depends on its ability to adapt to changes.  It is time for Hawaii to evolve into a more well-rounded economy that isn't so dependent upon the influx of transients in our state.  I think this will also enhance the experience of the tourists who do make it over here.  Sometimes I have to wonder how much fun they are having when I see them stuck in all this traffic.  I know I don't particularly like wasting my vacation time looking at people's rear bumpers.

I'm lucky that I don't have to deal with the traffic that so many others experience here, as it would drive me nuts.  I'd be even more of a wreck than I am now.  Sometimes I can barely handle the 15 minutes of average total driving time I spend on the road each day.  (You can thank me later for freeing up the roads...if you can catch of glimpse of me, that is, since I'm on and off the asphalt in a flash.)

Okay, this is getting out of hand.  My blog silence had to be broken today.  I was reading the news on The Honolulu Advertiser website, and it was just riddled with errors.  Doesn't anyone proofread anymore?  And why did this editor just underline 'Doesn't' like it's not spelled correctly?  Maybe that's the problem!!!  Geez!  (That's underlined, too.  :D)

First, I saw this:



Alright, well, I thought that was kind of funny.  But then I saw this:



Two headline typos in one morning?  That's pretty bad.  Surely that must be it.

If only that were true...



Here are the headlines shown all together on the home page:


Once again, I am not insinuating that mistakes should never be made or that I never make such careless errors.  We are all human.  However, some standard has to be maintained, particularly when you are in the business of publishing.  They got 3 words misspelled out of 110.  Would they think that hey, that's over 97%, so that's like an A?  I don't care that this is a website and not a traditional printed document.  I don't care that these Breaking News updates are written on the fly so they can be posted in a most timely manner.  They should still be proofread, and they shouldn't have these kinds of completely avoidable, careless errors.  Who is writing these things?  Even if it is the interns, they should know how to proofread.  Furthermore, wouldn't they have a supervisor to review them before posting?  Why is this damn editor underlining all my contractions??!!!

Although I've had many things I've wanted to blog about over the last several months, I've been lazy. In lieu of snarky prose I will opt to post a couple of cat videos.
The Boxing Cat


This one, though, is definitely one of my favorites:
Treadmill Kittens

As I mentioned in the last post, The Honolulu Advertiser's Breaking News/Updates section can sometimes be unintentionally entertaining.

Here is today's case in point:

I visit the Honolulu Advertiser website a couple of times each day to see what's going on outside of my bubble. I always start by skimming through the Breaking News/Updates headings to see if there is anything of interest or worth reading. Occasionally, I'll come across a heading typo that will make me chuckle, but today I had to laugh because when I happened to check the site just now, the first item in the section was this:

Last night I wore something to bed that, ever since acquiring it during my blog hiatus, Ken has wanted me to wear to bed every night.

I have to admit that it's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I wear it all the time to make him happy.

This is not the first nightguard I've owned. No, in fact, it is more like my 4th or 5th. Yeah, I can't even keep track. For those of you who might be unfamiliar with the concept of the nightguard, it is basically an expensive piece of plastic made for people who grind their teeth.

That's right - I'm a bruxer, and a serious one at that.

I don't know exactly when I became aware of my bruxism, but I think it was sometime in intermediate school. If I recall correctly, that would be right about the time when learning really stopped being all fun and games, and schoolwork piled on enough to prompt me to sometimes study until 2am.

I have no idea if my teeth grinding has increased in severity over the years. Despite tight jaws and headaches, I avoided wearing a nightguard until I was in college and those who were unlucky enough to sleep next to me (relax, there were only 2) alerted me to the fact that my grinding was rather loud. It was so loud, in fact, that it sometimes woke them up. Still, I just couldn't get myself to wear that uncomfortable appliance that made me feel like a drooling football player every night.

Ken put a stop to my nightguard avoidance techniques rather quickly when he first discovered my hidden talent. Because he's a rather light sleeper, my grinding was constantly waking him up. As he describes it, "It's a sound you can't even make consciously." Well, that was enough to get me a little alarmed, so I heeded his pleas and started wearing my nightguard regularly. (It makes the grinding less loud.) And if I accidentally forgot, I'd wake up in the middle of the night with his hand grasping my jaw and his voice megaphoning in my ear, "NIGHTGUARD."

There are many undesirable side-effects of bruxism. One of them is worn-down and damaged teeth. My molars have no such things as 'fissures.' They are just smooth, concave bowls. I'm quite certain that I've worn off most of the enamel on the surfaces of my teeth, which has caused me to get crapload of cavities and all kinds of serious dental work, the bills for which could have easily bought me a new car with a/c. And I'm not talking about a Kia, either.

All this dental work, in turn, changes the shape of my bite impression, and every time my impression changes, I need a new nightguard. In other words, I need to spend another $400 on a piece of plastic. Lovely.

We have a slightly unusual transportation arrangement in our family.  About 10 years ago, my mom had a series of strokes that left her with about half of her vision.  Consequently, she can no longer drive.  She has depended on a variety of means to get around town, including the bus, the Handi-Van, and friends and relatives who can drive.  Of these relatives, I am the principal chauffeur.  But I can't be treating my mom to rides in the luxury sauna Accord everyday.  I've got work to do.  So I am forced to rely on the services of a replacement driver, particularly for short trips and errands.

Occasionally, though, I feel compelled to audit this driver's skills.  After all, I want to make sure that my loved ones are safe, and the same concern extends to all the other innocent drivers on the road.  There are plenty enough crazy and incompetent gas-pedaling nightmares out there as it is.

My driver actually has a lot of experience and a clean driving record, to boot.  So why the concern?

Well, she's 5 feet tall on a good day, has osteoporosis, has white hair, and was born just in time to catch the ending of World War I.

Yes, that's right folks, my 90 year-old grandma still gets behind the steering wheel.

Now before you get all judgmental, let me assure you that I would not let her drive if I didn't think she was capable, for the reasons already stated above.  Moreover, I'm pretty critical of driving skills, so my standards are high.

I had not ridden with my grandma in awhile, so I wasn't sure what to expect.  I've basically been depending on inquisitions of my mom, the usual passenger, to give me reports and inform me of any possible infractions.  I've been trusting my mom's judgment and lack of complaints of the transportation service, even though it's almost laughable that the circumstances are arguably like the blind leading the blind.  (Actually, my grandma's vision is pretty darn good.  She's had both eyes treated for cataracts, and she has driving glasses for her distance vision, which needs only slight correction.)

The Senior Driving Audit involved a grocery store run, a frequent field trip taken by my mom and grandma.  As I buckled up in the back seat, I told them to try to pretend I wasn't there and just carry on as normal.  Somewhat to my surprise, my grandma's driving was, even by my strict standards, passable.  In fact, she probably drives better than a good chunk of people half her age.  Still, there are a couple of things that I advised her on, and I plan on getting her a thicker cushion so she can sit higher and have better visibility.

I have to say, though, I couldn't help but crack up when I thought about other people watching the three of us go to the car after exiting the market.  There I am, carrying all the grocery bags and leading the way for my two straggling elders.  But after putting all the groceries in the trunk, I hop in the back seat, the 63 year-old falls into the passenger's seat, and the nonagenarian busts out the car keys.

*******

I normally like to maintain the privacy and relative anonymity of my friends and family, but I think this deserves a visual.   (Besides, she won't know she's here until someone tells her about it, and my mom doesn't read my blog.)  My grandma is awesome.  And 90.




So who's gonna drive?
Surprise - it's not whom you think
It's the white-haired one

Wheel at eye level
Reminds of Ferris Bueller's
Need higher cushion

Okay, now this is getting to be rather comical.

I had to go to the bank today to make a deposit again, and while I normally keep most of my banking limited to the ATM, I was depositing cash, so I had to go inside. I've been avoiding that branch with the chit-chatting dude like the plague for weeks now, but for both the sake of efficiency (I had to pick up those darn Police tickets at Times, which is right next to the bank) and the fact that such avoidance tactics are arguably quite silly, I decided to take my chances.

I managed to sneak inside without a greeting, as Chatty Teller was busy helping someone. I could hear him talking it up with his customer, so I tried filling out my deposit slip quickly to get the other open teller. But the customer finished up her business and conversation before I could make my move. I proceeded to complete my deposit slip, and when I heard Chatty Teller yell, "Hello!" I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that that meant another customer had walked in.

But then the customer came over by me because she had to fill out a deposit slip, too. Crap.

For a second, I actually thought about shuffling through my papers pretending to do something until the other customer finished her paperwork and went up to the teller, but once again I convinced myself that I was being ridiculous.

Just like the last time, I walked through the empty maze, but this time I had a plan. As I approached the front, I proceeded to look at the other guy, who in turn saw me looking at him and politely smiled and said, "Hi."

Excellent, I'm thinking, I've already established eye contact with this guy, so he knows I'm coming to his window.

But just when I get to the front, Chatty Teller exclaims, "Hi! I can help you over here!"

Deer in the headlights.

And then swirling thoughts in my head.

For a second I consider saying, "No, that's okay, I'm going over there," but I decide that would be rude. So I do a quick scan and comparison of the distances between myself and each of the tellers. The Lazy American Rule dictates that, if given a choice, I'm going to go to the one that involves the shortest distance.

Chatty Teller was closer.

Me (serious and matter of fact): I'd like to deposit this, please.

Teller: Okay.

(Teller grabs deposit)

Teller: How are you doing today?

Me (not overly chipper): Fine, and you?

Teller: Good, except for the rain...

Me (thinking, "uh oh, here we go again"):It's not that bad.

Teller: So, is this your lunch break?

(It was 2:30.)

Me (remembering that he asked me this the last time, but I forgot to include it in the dialogue recap): No.

Teller: So, you're not working today?

Me (thinking that maybe I should have worn that cap so he wouldn't be asking me these exact same questions again): I am, but I work for myself.

Teller: Oh...Are you a realtor?

Me (thinking, "What?!"): No.

Teller: Oh...What do you do?

Me: I'm a CPA (hoping that would scream BORING)... And I have a small business.

Teller: Oh...What kind of business?

Me (amazed that he is still going): It's a casual clothing business.

Me (sensing he's trying to make the connection between accounting and clothing): It's more enjoyable.

Teller: Oh, well, at least that's more fun!

(Teller hands me my receipt.)

Me (starting to feel slightly awkward yet again at the extent of our conversation): Yep, kthanksbai!

After I walked out and thought about it, it really started to make me laugh. The whole situation somehow seemed like some Saturday Night Live sketch with a recurring character. Maybe next time I'll play along and rewrite the script. If he laments about the rain, I'll tell him I love it because it's great for the backyard crops. And if he asks what kind of crops, I'll tell him, "The kind that generates cash deposits like this one."

2 Police Tickets, Sold Out 1st Show, Best Seats in Risers, Face Value - $490

Reply to: sale-552037736@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-01-25, 9:54PM HST

I have 2 extra tickets to the 1st Police concert on Saturday, February 16th. They are excellent seats in the Section N risers, Row 7. These are the closest risers to the stage without being directly on the side of the stage. Row 7 is right in the middle, so you won't be too low or too high. Just trying to recoup my original cost (including those crazy Ticketmaster fees). Asking $490 for the pair. Thanks for looking!

Please email w/any questions.

• Location: Sec N, Row 7
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 552037736


Yeah. That right there would be my listing on craigslist. This is the second time I've listed them, and I still can't get rid of them.

I'm pretty pissed off about this. Me and my birthday trigger fingers were online promptly at 9:00 am on December 8th when The Police tickets went on sale. Several friends and I wanted to try to get seats together, but no thanks to both the 4 ticket limit and all those damn scalpers trying to buy up the tickets to turn a healthy profit, it was hard enough to even get 4 tickets together that weren't in La-La Land before the groups of 4 were completely unavailable after like 3 minutes. My friends and I agreed that the next best alternative was for each of us to try to scoop up a couple of pairs of good seats, to congregate and compare our treasures and pick the winners, and to try to buy, sell, and trade our way with third parties to the best solution. Sounds complicated, yes, but it's all you can do if you want to have a chance at sitting together as a group. We actually did this successfully for the U2 concert the other year, and we had great seats until they decided to change the configuration from baseball to football. (Yeah, that made me mad.) We had so many sets of tickets to keep track of, I actually made a spreadsheet to make sure they were all properly accounted for. Sure, it was a little risky, but we were willing to pay a bit of a premium to get our group of 8 people together. Concerts are somehow a lot more fun with larger groups, don't you think?

Anyway, we didn't buy up quite so many tickets this go-around since The Police commanded an even higher price than U2. I thought the $175 (plus Ticketmaster fees) U2 tickets were nuts. But The Police on a reunion tour? $225. Multiply that by 2 and it's a whopping $450 for a pair (which is really the relevant cost, as only die hard fans with no friends would go by themselves). But wait - that's not including the 'convenience charge' of $36.70, the 'delivery' charge (which is pickup at Times supermarket, so not technically a 'delivery,' unless you count the packets of data being delivered electronically to the market's computer) of $1.00, and the 'order processing fee' of $2.65. When all's said and done, a pair of tickets to see Sting and his sidekicks without having to bust out the binoculars cost $490.35.

That could cover about 2/3 of the cost to get my A/C fixed.

Still, being the epic concert that this is, I figured that if I had a good pair of tickets to resell after our wheeling and dealing, I wouldn't have a problem.

Not so.

There have been tons of listings on craigslist, and people are having a hard time selling tickets on ebay. I don't give a rat's you-know-what about the scalpers unable to unload their tickets, but what about us honest people just trying to enjoy a night out with some friends? All those greedy ticket entrepreneurs who scooped up a good chunk of the tickets on the first day created artificial demand for the tickets. Sold out in 15 minutes? Okay, well, then let's add another concert on Sunday! Oh, what? Not all those ticket buyers really wanted to go to the concert? These darn capitalists are screwing with the system! I don't need to observe the full range of Adam Smith's theory, thanks. I just want some concert tickets.

With just 2 weeks to go until the concert, me and apparently a lot of other honest people are starting to get a little antsy.

I'm not even a huge Police fan. I just wanted to go since it's kind of a once in a lifetime experience. Did you hear that? I said it's a once in a lifetime experience! Buy my extra tickets!

If you're worried about me harassing you during the concert, don't. I promise I won't stand so close to you. The pair of tickets I'm keeping is in the next section over. In fact, they're not even as good as the seats I'm trying to get rid of!

Seriously, someone please take these off my hands. I'll be wrapped around your finger if you do. Don't make me have to put on the red light to fund this concert. Heck, even if I did, I'd be lucky to get 5 bucks and an after dinner mint with this aging body. No, I'd play the capitalist game myself and outsource. Even with my expenses for an independent contractor, I'd make more money to recoup my costs.

Let me attempt to get you excited for a second. Don't you want to see this?


Here's another shot from another concert in a different city:


How about from a different angle?


Okay, it really is Haiku Friday this time. Heh.

Voracious scalpers
Severed invisible hand
Inflated demand

Police price too high
Have to put on the red light
Stuck with two extra

You know, I've really been rather enjoying the cool weather we've been having lately.  Unlike most of my friends who seem to start freezing everytime they walk into an air conditioned room, I usually tend to be on the hot side.  Not sizzling hot, just not as easily cold.  I would much rather be cold than hot.  Summertime in Hawaii makes me miserable as hell.

Anyway, there have been a few days where I found myself actually thinking it was a little cold.  It almost made me feel as if I were in California on a Spring afternoon, with the cool breezes balanced out by a little warmth of the sun.   I even layered on a fleece hoodie the other day.  The fleece made me randomly think of my old Koala Blue sweatshirt, one of my high school favorites.  (Yes, you even get a bonus of part of my big hair in that picture, apparently along with some pyrotechnics, which is really just 18 candles - well, probably 19, since there's one for good luck.)

My Koala Blue sweatshirt then made me think of Olivia Newton-John because she was the co-owner of that store.  (The Hawaii store used to be in Kahala Mall, where Gymboree is now.)  Then, of course, Olivia made me think of Grease, which I might just have to say is one of my favorite movies.  That then reminded me of the very first record - yes, and I literally mean record - I ever bought.  It was the 45 rpm of "You're the One That I Want," which I purchased from JCPenney.  Thinking about that now, though, I'm wondering how I could have bought that from Penney's.  I don't remember them carrying records.  Hmph.

Moving along, Grease and the vinyl made me realize that I'm getting really old.  In fact, I was rather traumatized the other week when I went to the gym and jumped on the treadmill for the first time since my birthday in December.  When entering in my pre-workout settings, I'm so used to pushing the down key, you know - down, down, down for the weight which starts at 135 (I'm a petite little flower) and down for the age, which defaults to 35.  This time, though, I went my usual down, down, down for the weight, and then my finger got ready to go down again for the age, but when the age came up, I was paralyzed.  I swear, time just stopped for a second when I realized I no longer had to press down.  It was a sad and horrifying moment, let me tell you.

Anyway, back to my train of thought.  Me being old reminded me that 2008 is the Year of the Rat, which is my Chinese Zodiac year.  That then made me realize that hey, this is my year!  It's going to be a great year!

And so you have a prime example of the inner workings of my mind.  This is why I swear I need to be tested for ADD.  This kind of stuff parades through my mind all day long.

Guess what?  It's Haiku Friday!

Cool weather is here
Please stay a little longer
I'm not perspiring

Koala Blue sweats
Got chills, they're multiplyin'
Yeah, Grease is the word

Treadmill asks my age
Finger itching to press "down"
Only need "enter"

Hey, Year of the Rat
You bring me good luck this year
Can't wait 12 more years

Peace, I'm out!

I've decided to ease myself back into the blog swing of things with brevity, hence my return on Haiku Friday.

A new year again
Ain't got no resolutions
They just never work

CPEs complete
License three-seven-six-four
Now it's tax season

Weighed myself today
Thought I'd gained 5, but surprise
It's called "no muscle"

Aloha, June Jones
First Colt's gone, and then Davone
I say, "Poor Graunke"

Happy Haiku Friday!

What?  Friday again?
No more haiku is the trend
Been too swamped to blog

What the hell?

I couldn't resist spreading this funny video.

Last night I was doing some research on reengineering the ever so popular Grumpy Girl Auto Bird Turd Emergency Kit and its more masculine counterpart, The Sh*! Kit, and while I was looking into plastic injection molding, I came across a site called emachineshop.com.  This neat site allows you to download their special CAD software (for all you engineering geeks), design your own part, get quotes on your job, and even order your custom parts online.

Now, I had never used a CAD program before, but since the site kept boasting about how wonderful and easy and wonderfully easy their software was, I thought I'd try it out so I could get an instant quote on a plastic part.

When I opened the program, it looked relatively similar to my drawing program, CorelDraw, so I thought, "Hey, maybe this won't be so bad after all."  Still, I figured that I would probably be better off watching some of their video tutorials first to get a grip on the basics before diving in.

And that's where high school math, specifically my all-time favorite, geometry, snuck up on me and jumped me.

The male narrator, in his rather buoyant, helpful-sounding voice, started out by walking me through drawing a couple of rectangles and circles.  Simple enough.  But then he went on as follows (I would type his narration in yellow to reflect his sunshiney personality, but it's hard to read on a white background):

Next, we will review a variety of 2D drawing techniques.
The techniques are useful in themselves, but more importantly, they provide a mindset that will help you solve all of your own drawing needs.

(Here, I'm still thinking, "That sounds good.")

Suppose we have two lines, and they meet at a vertex, like this.

(I'm going..."Vertex...vertex...okay.  Gotcha.")

And, suppose we want to create a line that bisects the angle down the middle.

(The introduction of the second geometric term is starting to get me slightly concerned.)

We can try to do it by eye, like this (wavers around with his mouse to emphasize the difficulty of trying to find the middle), but that's not really accurate.
It's better to use a different approach.  This approach is faster and more accurate.

(I kind of like the eyeballing method which, if I must say so myself, I tend to be pretty good at, but okay, fine.  I'm down with that.)

We begin by drawing a large circle at the vertex.

(I'm not liking where this is going.)



Next, draw a line at the intersections.

(I am having serious flashbacks of my geometry class.  Remember 'constructions'?  Yeah, well right about now, I'm picturing myself with my compass, straightedge, and 80's hair doing this.)



Draw the bisector.

(Okay, this is getting out of hand.)



Now delete the guidelines.



And this results in a perfectly bisected angle!

By that point, my eyes were wide enough to probably convince someone I wasn't Asian at all.

I decided to call it a night.  When I exited the emachineshop program, it asked me if there was anything they could improve upon.  Although I declined to respond, I was really thinking, "How about creating a toolbar button called 'bisect angle'?"