Comes In A Can , Now....

Found this photo on another blog out there in cyber-space, I was bored for a moment, and then the crushing reality of working with morons at Hotel De Hell raised its ugly head from below the slime and said "Dont forget, we are here 24/7, Mark!!!!"

Tourista overloada on da brainah.......

I am getting a can of this for housekeeping.

Certain guests rooms may be involved.

I may not come back.

I keeeeeed, I keeeed, ................almost

Leaving Las Vegas, Hawaiian Style

Shopping is a major event for Lady C. Believe it or not, I really dont mind. The only conflict that we have is that I, of course, KNOW exactly what I am looking for, where to purchase it, and how quickly I can complete the task. This reasonably, is due to the fact of "I got no mo' nuff time fo' surf!!" So time is my premium. Matter of factly, when I die, I am having Lady C call death, 'cause for sure I will live a long time more, she takes sooooo long.

Now that I have ventured sufficiently off-track, the meat, if you would.

Las Vegas has a array of outlets, that (I guess) have prices much cheaper than everything In Alohaland. I never argue this point. Reason is, I will lose that discussion. In reality, I have yet to see ANYTHING that is really that much cheaper than deals at home. (except for shoes, but being that I believe it is a SIN to wear them, cost matters nada to me) Lady C feels that valuable gambling and Heineken consumption time are to be used in a shopping fashion, is a discussion I will lose, so, no question , we go. Back to our differences in shopping. Like I related, I go for the quick kill. Lady C draws it out like a Masatadon Hunt. Hours, Eons, Centuries draw by. I kill time by mosying around reeking havoc with the sales people. Good havoc. See, I am on vacation, thereby, I have nothing but happiness in my heart. 345 days of friggin work a year messes with yer mind, dontcha know.

And you can never have MORE fun than being male in a Victorias Secret shop, on vacation. Lady sales crews in a large store not knowing that my better half is shopping for Bras an aisle away, have NO idea what they are in for upon approach. But I do. No malice, but fun. No rude behavoir, but, like I said, fun. "Do you have these in a Green Apple color?", -or- "These are exactly...What?" Granted, the ladies are helpful, kind and professional. Not to mention, stunning. My havoc here over, I ask the skipper shopper, if I may browse the arena to which I am banished. Assuring her that I will not seek out adult beverages, I skulk out of the best smelling place in the world.

Onward! Perusing the crowd, I watch oldsters with young 'uns, tourists, gang members, really well-dressed folk, (something formal about shopping on the mainland, I guess) a virtual cornicpoia of humanity. I relish it. Wander here and there. Pick up some goofy stuff for the Maile-girl, and assorted crappola for her brothers. Seemingly HOURS later, we meet up, and I carry the motherlode to the car.

Back to the Casino time!

On the drive there, Lady C decides that she hasnt seen the Primm Outlets. So as we pull up to the valet, she asks the man where/how/directions, Etc. Lady C, one who never backs off a challenge, decides to solo it on her own. "Are you SURE?" I ask. "Yeah. I can handle, the valet spelled it all out" OK. Call me, if anything.

A few hours later.

"rinnnnnng.....rinnggggg"

Me - "Hey, kiddo whats up?"

Lady C - "The sign says I am on my way to CALIFORNIA, MMMMAAAARRRKKK!"

Me - (stifiling a laugh, yet concerned, as I am not SURE where the hell she is) OK, calm down, it is alright, where are you? And are you headed North, South, East or West?, And what freeway are you on?!"

Long tale short, she went too far, got turned around more than once, and 10 cell calls and an hour or two later, she is back in my arms.

Blaming me, of course.

All in good fun, 'tho

She aint getting outta my sight this time.

Aloha!

The glitter gulch photo / 20X odds for the odd guy pix

The in(famous) Lady C glitter gulch pix. To this day, I never thought when I said "flash me, sweety!!!" That she actually would. We didnt get arrested on this trip, either.

Lady (godiva) C didnt even know the big sign was behind her when this was snapped, not the cameras fault, I blame Mr. Heineken and his friends for the pix quality.

After a great run at The Cal on the craps table, Ol' doofus brain managed to have a run of bad luck-ola, prompting the Blackjack Queen herself to state - "20X odds, your odds are 20 times as bad...I'll hold the money!!!"

Not that I didnt agree, but being that I was the one being her personal ATM (hey! just like at home!) It seemed only fair that she shame me with this pix.

In honor of 'Zillas 'wife tricks post'

There is a definte reason I love this woman - she gives me stuff to cook and eat!

Mr. Heineken Arrives

Please help the poor man to his room.....

It Better Stay In Vegas

What Does A Cherry Mean?
Win Coinage...
Get Married...
First You Gotta Get There....

Trippin' On Da Strip Tale Vol. 2

The next foray into the land of sin produced a adventure of wanton sex, alcohol consumption, and dice mayhem. Got your attention with the wanton sex, eh?

Lady C, Aunty R, and me the heathen, were to trip over the big puddle to lala land. This was for 1 of Lady C 's & Aunty R's co-workers wedding. Off we goes. Flight is un-eventfull, even tho' this is the first time Lady C and I are flying anywhere together.

Oh, did I mention that Lady C is scared shitless of flying? It takes me 3 days to prepare her to fly inter-island. That is a 30 minute flight. See, the woman I love can ride a Harley, go fishing for Mahi-Mahi on a boat on her own, drop a volkswagon engine (seriously), go nuts on a jet-ski, but is scared of the flying part. I think it is because she really wants to fly the damn thing. The pre-trip is a mix of positive reinforcement, good hugs, and well, for me...Beer. Aunty R is the next best thing for her since Valium, as she is the voice of calm. Rock solid. We get on board, and I, knowing the drill w/ C, knows the first thing the flower of mind will do is ...seriously hassle the flight crew, albeit in a very nice way. Constant questions, all from the Captain - "is he good, do you know if he flies alot?" To - "is the flight rough today? hows the weather? Do you fly alot?"... You get the picture, yeah? Nervous energy abounds. All in a good way, but if I was an attendant, I would lose it, even if she is sooo damn nice about it.

The crew on our flight, were, absolute dreams. They were the BEST.

They babied her, checked in on her, watched over her, and in general, amde my exsistence being there, useless. Cool. More beer for me.

Lady C amps out so much that by 1/3 of the flight, she is in a coma. Outto-finouto. Dreamer. So me and Mr. Heineken get acquainted, and catch a movie. And 5 hours later, Las Vegas! We get to the Cal, and we are out to the Fremont Street, beers in hand. Lady C has never been there, so me, being the well experienced traveller, and Vegas pro, rehashes the previous trip w/ her Mom, and AV.

Lady C immediately goes to the slots.

Arrgggh.

And Mr. Heineken and I, start our journey into mischief. Aunty R joins Lady C on a Wheel Of Fortune machine, and plunk in the coinage. It is off to the craps tables for Mr. H and I. Now, the last trip, I noticed that the crew at the craps tables were having the most fun of anyone in the casino. All the yelling, hi-fives, and cheers were a draw for sure. But I had no idea of WTF was the deal. So before I attacked the coffers of LV this time, I decide to read up on the game, and ask the world renown expert on Vegas - read:Lady C's Uncle Billy - about the game. Uncle Billy knows Vegas, and goes quite a bit, he is also a retired Firefighter. This, of course, means I must study with him, meaning....Beer! Uncle B gives me the skinny on the game, and I figure the point of the game is....Win! Actually, the point of the game is not to throw the dreaded "7" , and make your 'point'. Statistically, you will throw more sevens, and the House (the ever evil Casino)has the advantage. But - If you can throw the dice, with some 'deftness' you can take one seven outta the equation. Now, I know you math majors out there are poo-poo ing it, but I relagate the following tale -

There are 'X' numbers of ways to make the "7". That's what odds are calculated upon. A 'random' roller - one who grabs the dice, and heaves them down the table, should throw a seven 'X' number of times. Certain sects of craps players beleve that if you 'control' or 'set' the dice, you have less chances of making the dreaded '7' appear. I happen to think that this is true. The reason is, when I first tried craps, I threw it hog wild down the table. All the time I was there, a small, older gent was setting the dice, and throwing with much care, and softly. His rolls went on for a longer period of time, hence, making him, and those bettors with him, more $. So being the arse hole that I am, I had to see what I could learn. The internet is a great resource. There are a gazillion ways, theories and beliefs on the subject, so just like my own religious beliefs, I pick and choose what I like, and mold my own guide.

Cutting to the chase - I started throwing the 'bones' in a set, lightly, and with as much control over them as I could. This resulted in much better outcomes for meself. Debate can rage over what is truly occuring, but , eh, I figure it works for me, and until it doesnt, I am HAVING FUN.

We will get back to the dice/craps portion of this novel soon enough.

So the crew of 3 land in LV, get our rooms, and see the sights. Beverages abound, and at the start of day 2, I get the rent-a-car, and requsite coffee first thing in the AM. This was the mornng of the Lady C bra & panties in the hallway episode I related in a earlier post. The only plans were to see the sights of the strip, and relax, before the next days wedding. Shopping, gambling, sightseeing. Enjoyable, and since I walk at a pace of 10X faster than Lady C & Aunty R, I see everything, well, twice. Something I need to learn - walk slower. Walking idiocyncrisies aside, we have a fun-filled, casino hopping day. Food and beverages consumed, the day turns to night, and the ladies want to go down the strip to see the lights/sights. Since I have been having a good run-o-luck at the craps pit, I digress to the 2 young hens to adventure on their own. They grab the car, and head southbound on the Strip.

Viva Las Vegas, and why they dont put clocks in Casino's.

The night wears on, and I get a cold streak, so I exit to wander the area. Many sights and dives later, (as well as....Mr Heineken's) I find it late, and I buzzed. Call the gals on the cell, no answer. I figure they are busy, or unreachable in a casino. Midnight, 1AM, 2AM, 3AM, still no connect. Worried? A little. But figure no need to. So I figure, shower, and call agian, probably will hook up after. Washed and dried, I try to call again. 4AM. No luck. Hummm? I made the mistake of lying down, BOOM! Out like a light. I wake at 645, to no Lady C in bed! Arggggh. Call the cell.

Lady C - "Hi! (excitedly) Whats up? We are at the Ceasars Palace...And..."

Me- " Do you have any idea what time it is?...are you OK?"

Lady C - "No, why? Is it late?"

Me- "Try look at your watch"

Lady C- "Oh its like 345, I didnt realize..."

Me - " Uh, Cathy, Its 645, not 345, your watch is on Hawaii time, babooze"

Lady C - " Oh shit, it is?!"

Main thing they are safe, but I had to laugh on these 2 Vegas Virgins wheeling and dealing in the Neon space that this place is. More funny, they are winning!

So the start of day 3 gets off to a equally bizarre/strange way as does everyday in my life.

Getting married by Elvis, and waiting in line for pre-nuptuials with drunks-

The wedding party on day 3 was planning to join at The Little Wedding Chapel, and join in matrimony by the "king" I guess if I was on LSD, it would seem normal, but straight, it was/is still a scene of strangeness unequalled in my life. Then combine that with a line to wed, with half the waiting parties 3 sheets to the wind, well you can imagine, the scenarios are equal parts strange/funny/hallucinogenic. The deed done, we proceed to the 'party bus' for a tour of LV, and adult beverages, I take a ton of blurry pix, all of which, look like shit. Just call me 'Mr. Japanese-Tourist-Photographer-Man'

Nothing spectacular occurs, besides Lady C flashing me at the sign for 'Glitter Gulch - topless girls sign' ( a blurry pix of that memory exsists ) And we head home 4 days 3 nights later, exhausted and ready for return to the real world.

Trip to the Strip # 3, now there is a tale of wonder -

Just call it- "The sign says I am headed to California, Maaaaarrrrkkkkkk....."

Dear God, she really drives me nuts.....

Aloha!

Pre-Vacation "S'Trip" Tale...Vol. 1

Being that the L'vacation is 14 days away, I figure a good tale from the first virgin trip is in order. Hope you enjoy the tale.

2000. Memorial Day weekend. My mother-in-law (MIL) was planning on a trip to Las Vegas (LV), and my eldest son (K) was still enrolled at my and my dads almamater (SLH). The football team was playing a pre-season game in LV, and my MIL was going to go, along with meeting up with her sister-in-law (SIL). Up until this point in my life, I had never been to LV. Oh sure, I had heard the tales told, and wondered what the scene was like, but never really wanted to go. I really have no interest in gambling, I have seen too many people at the Hotel Hell get their lives screwed owing money for football bets and the like. I love to out guess the odds makers on College ball, but I put no coin on my hunches. Maybe throw a $5 here and there, like once a season, to see if I can hit a parlay sheet for a quick win. Pick 8, and score $250 smackeroos. More amusing to see the looks on the constant bettors faces, when it works; ...eh, simple, limited, Fun. If it isnt fun, then you have a problem with gambling. That would be my standard, I guess.

Any who - So the MIL is getting herself planned up and ready to go, when for god knows what reason, she asks if I want to go with her. (remember now, at this point, Lady C and I havent been on a vacation since the dawn of time) Lady C says "Go. Please, this constant surf,surf, surf, and work, work, work, you deserve it..." In truth, it was more like I had the time, and she didnt, so I got the long straw. Our income in those days was pretty short, as we were paying for private school for K and his brother, The Bear. So gambling $, was going to be perhaps, around 300 shimoolians. Last second problems, curses of home stuffs, the budget dwindled to 200 pre-inflation dineros. Myself, having absolutely NO idea on what a bankroll was, figures, "hey I am Howard Hughes!" "200 big ones! More than my allowance for the month!" In other words, I figures I am good to go.

Be brave, oh beating hearts, reality check comes soon enough.

Backgroundish info - my MIL had been going quite often with my at this time recently deceased FIL, and they had tales of fun, walks, and shopping, along with the requisite deposits to Bank of LV. My MIL is a slot junkie, or was , anyway, as she is in a care home now. My FIL, was a slot junkie too. Me, I look at the things and think... "Fuck that!" I have kids that take money, I dont need a machine to vacuum it out. Ah, but that is now. Not on that first trip, 'tho. Unfortunately for me I had listened to the tales of wins from MIL, and thought, "wow, they just GIVE money to you, while giving you free beer, too!!!" Innocent dummy, I was.

So MIL and I get on the big airliner, and packed like sardines in coach, fly off to LV. At this time, it was my first trip off the rock since 1981. Of course, I got the seat in the middle. Making note of the hassle it was to get to and from that toture chamber, I planned to attack the back of the plane by harvesting beers with some others who didnt have premium seating. A couple of nice enough guys and i stood in the back, and gave the flight attendants a story for 'flight attendant rant. com'...Nah, we were well behaved, and quaffed many a brew for the betterment of mankind.

Not really that much, maybe a six pack for me. Over the 5 hour flight, not too much, really. So we land in LV, and MIL sprints for the exit, needing a smoke, as 5 hours without Carbon Monoxide is something she couldnt live without back then. At this point in time, I rarely smoked a cig. So watching her rush to the doors was entertaining in and of itself.

We get to the California Hotel And Casino (The Cal) in wonderful, wonderous, downtown LV. As we rode there, I was amazed at the strip. Lights, neon, and it was everywhere! Amazing. It was maybe 7PM, tops. We check in, and MIL is scratching at the door to gamble. Coins, bells, whining sirens, all the noises and sounds of the Casino were calling her. It is a pretty intoxicating sound I imagine, I just kinda get sensory overload, and tone it out. Becomes like a white noise, I guess.

MIL and I head down to meet Aunty Verna (AV) who via Oregon, was coming to join us. My MIL's SIL. We meet her and she says she has rented a car, and later we can go to see the son, K at the hotel the team is at. So MIL & AV take virgin boy, (me) to the big old Casino. "Here Mark, this is a slot machine, you put $ in it, they bring you free beer, and then you get money out"... Well, sorta. More like, take the $, flush it down the toilet, and wait for the drink to appear, that you really paid 100 bucks for. Truth in advertising? Not. But, the MIL and AV mean well, so off I goes armed with a 20. I figure, shit, I will be raking in the dough, in minutes. MIL and AV go off to their favorite machines, and I plunk down on a spot near the bar. (stupid, I am not) If I am paying 100 bucks-a-beer, it coming fast, baby!...Any how, I drops me 20 in the machine and figure, hell, in a hour, i will be in hog heaven money oozing out my pores.

Approximately 3 minutes later, the 20 vanished. What the heck? Add another 20, maybe they will become friends, and multiply in side the machine.

Maybe 2 minutes later, I figured the shit out. Stay the hell away from the slots.

Wandering around, I see MIL and AV pumping bills into the slots. I recall that my MIL ALWAYS comes back from LV, broke. ALWAYS. Ah ha! I says! I see why! God Bless her, but random number generators, odds, and mathematics mean nothing to her. So I wander the casino, checking the scene out. Nothing prepares you for the people watching in this town. i could come here for a week, and just wtch the comings and goings. Really. So MIL pumping away, and AV pumping away, I bide my time at a small machine for quarters, playing dueces wild, having a really very good time. A couple sits next to me, from California, retired, and we chat it up. Cool as hell folk, we chit and chatter about life, and stuff. The mans wife hits the machine for a grand. Neat. Exciting. A few - maybe more than a few - beers later, I wander back to find MIL and AV. they have buckets of coins. They are happy as clams. I am well, buzzed. Not drunk, buzzing. Happy Happy Joy Joy.

So MIL and AV want to go down to the strip where my son K is staying. AV doesnt want to drive, so they decide I will. Fine with me. I dont condone drinking and driving, but I was OK. Not really OK being that #1, I hadnt driven on the mainland in 19+ years, but I had NO FRICKING IDEA where I was going. Being that I like challenges, WTF? Keep those hotels on that side going down, and on the other side going back, should work, right?

Maybe.

As luck would have it I made it to and from, all with only scaring the living shit outta MIL and AV by going into the ghetto area of downtown, pulling up at a gas station, and actually asking a crackwhore for directions. I have no predjudice, believe me. I AM naive, that is for sure. 'cause i definitely didnt notice the thugs all around the area, either. She actually gave me great directions for a crackwhore, too. Really. All for a buck. Which I had on the dash, for god knows why. Better than a 20, i guess. The machine will vacuum that.

So we are back at The Cal, and MIL and AV go back to pumping bucks, and I well, wander somemore.

Whats that ? Ah! Blackjack! I can count to 21! Ha! 2 dollar table! Uncles and Aunties sitting with adult beverages, I am sooooo there! I sat down at around midnight. I started with 20.

After the umpteenth Heineken, I actually LOOKED at my watch and saw it was 6AM. Lord I am drunk. Very. Not fall down, but whooo whee I am a might MORE than buzzzol'd. I know I have a room somewhere. Thats right! MIL, AV and me! So off I go to hunker down with my winnings. 6 hours of play and I went up to 200, down to 10, and walked, well, stumbled slightly, with 95 smackeroos. Cost so far for the day - around even. A little on the plus side.

So i slope along up to the room, and MIL and AV are just getting up as I arrive, looking well, drunk. They have a good laugh, and tell me to join 'em for breakfast. Nah. Shower, sleep.

I wake a few hours later, to go hunt down the ladies. MIL is sitting pouting. Not good. AV is clanging away with the coins. I split, saying I am going out to walk around. Being that I am actually wearing shoes, (a sin) I figure what the hell, I am trudging all over, keep my coin count high!

Long story short, I walk all the way to the strip form downtown. Ouch. I drink in the hot sun. Ouch. I walk all the way back to downtown. Ouch, ouch, oweeeeee. Tired, I hunt down the gals and find them both at the spot I left them, 8 hours earlier. MIL is cursing her luck, and AV is happily counting the wins. Needless to say, MIL is ...bitter. She is losing hand over fist.

Quit, yeah? Not MIL. Chase that falling piano, baby! God love her, but no common sense. You are burning thru money, TAKE A BREAK! Nope. Pump it all in, and worse, watch your SIL; KA-CHING!!!! Win even more than you are losing.

So I watch this carnage for awhile, and after a few hours of adult-like beverages (read: Heinekens) I figure, maybe its time to mosy around.

I do mosying around well. I find people and places that really are off the wall.

So I meet the girls of glitter gulch.


Lady C's Uncle told me - "Hey boy! - go to fremont street, and pull all the free pulls, you never know!!!!!" Nothing better than free money! So iget a cardeck here, a mug there, and then, from outta nowhere, comes....Glitter Gulch. The hawker proclaims that I got a free spin coming, and being a naive moron, i dont put 2+2 together and see the train wreck that GG is. Of course I win, but to get your prize, you wander thru a amazing array of slots, sluts, and drunks. I get to the desk, and they hand me like, 20 bucks in coins to play at the slots there. OK. Free money. Now find me a bucket, and I will cash out the 20 , and leave. Nope. No buckets. I see the theory here - of course, pre-beer, I always see the theory.

Any how, a friendly lady on the machines above, strikes up a conversation and seems to be more than intrested in me. Me no stupid, me no likeee. But she really is just doing her job, and is friendly, and not rude. She tells me that if you hit the jackpot when the sirens wail, you get 3X the mount. Cool. I doubt that it will happen, but WTF, I am still sober enough to figure that I stand no chance of winning squat in this dive, (thanks again, Uncle Billy!) Lo and behold, I hit a jackpot for 200 bucks! OK. Now I am outta here. No buckets, I am putting the stash in my shirt, cashing out, Now. The lady above me, says people usually tip, so i toss her a handfull of coins. She was kind enough to say Thanks.

So I take the win, in my shirt, to cash-out cage.

At the cash-out cage is the most intoxicated person I have ever seen in my life.

And it is the Cashier.

Basically 20 minutes later, I leave with over 190 bucks of win.

Back to The Cal, and MIL is funk-afied, She is broke. Really. Day 2 of 4, and she is tapped. I give her the 190, and she tries to refuse, but i kinda noticed she already had the foot out the door.

Son has his game on day 3, so I cruise, win alittle watch MIL and AV lose their collective asses, and watch MIL funk -up even more. My bankroll is still at 200. MIL is given another 100, and off she goes. AV plunks down some coin, and as usual, wins.

I spent most of the last 2 days playing what ever I could, to see the sights, and wander into all kinds of dives.

I came home with 50 bucks, and MIL in tow, with absolutely Zilch.

She said she had fun.

I did.

And that my friends, is how this whole visits to LV started.

Who knows what mischief awaits this time?

Aloha.

Stay safe!

For My Next Act

Next Act - i will attempt to turn this mess into a shower stall that has two heads, with tile and ladies stand for leg shaving, ass resting, and genralized mayhem. Thanks to Lady C's cousin, (the evil contractor, Curt) I found that the 10K my MIL spent for him to make this bathroom probably went to Crack Coke, or something like it. The evil contractor Curt never even put water board behind the half - ass tile job that he did. Lady C and I kept wondering why the ledge for the step up to the shower, as well as the pan for the bottom, kept making a "squoooshing" sound. Ah, the fun of having in-laws.

I gots ideas, 'tho!!!!!!

Aloha.

-addendum- Got a good as hell surf in this morning, too.

Taro Patch

Japanese tourists have this thing for T-shirts, that for some reason, carry slogans that make absolutely NO fricking sense. The problem with these, is that they distract the shit outta me. They are so off the wall - -

"Super Sexy Dog Bone"

Or, they are just so bizzare -

"Big Time Trojan Wearer"

Some just flat out make NO sense -

" I am Amusement Happy"

There is a shop that caters to this freak show called -

88 Tees

The shop carries - nothing but T shirts with the slogan - "88 Tees"

Besides the often big time strange quotes, some have statements that, well, YOU guess.

"Kickstomper freedom makers"

"Cracker - makes a soup"

"Save the Sunshine happy makers, want to free?"

"Winky doo"

Some are rhinestone studded, some are plain, some have color combo's that would do the national Phillipines fashion bureau proud.

I almost run these guys over sometimes, on the way to her pinkness. Reading and digesting 'em. I gotta get photos of this stuff.

+++++

Alarm Bureau last night -

Had a call come in, via EMS 911, ... Back up first. The call taking computer I work on it blasts a alarrm sound that wakes the dead. You answer the thing by hitting the space bar or using the mouse. You see where the call came from (cell, home, EMS, HPD, whatever) and are connected immediately. The EMS dispatchers have the caller on the line while they ask us for a co-response. We get the address, and send the troops. The hard part is, the callers are on the line, if inept, scared or emotional, we aear the exchange between the EMS and the caller. you can dis-connect. I listen, as I enter the info for the dispatch. Multi-tasking at its finest.

Any who - There are the cardiac's, the difficulty breathings, the diabetic coma's, what have you. you hear such desperation, frustration or horror in the caller voices. Some are makers for long nights.

2145 last night, I take a call from EMS, the address pops up, the name, number, other meaningless information. The EMS voice, disembodied, yet familiar, and calm as hell, says - "Fire?, Co-response, address on the screen... Hanging"... All I say is "on our way"

I didnt disconnect. EMS goes on to say -

"Is she breathing?"

Caller (boarder line hysterical) - " No!...she is ...Oh God!...Come please! No!...No!"

EMS (calm) - "Mam, stay with me on the line, is she on the floor?"

Caller - (noises, cries, various sounds of woe) " Yes,.....she.. is on the floor"....." Oh please, No some...come...Dean? No...Oh God (wails, cries)...."

EMS (calm) - "Does anyone know CPR?"

Caller - (pulling every ounce of strength to relate in a calm tone) - "Yes....my son... he is a City and County lifegaurd, he is doing it now"

EMS (relieved, calm) - "Great, How old is she?...How long since she was last seen?"

Caller - "She is 16, I dont know.....maybe..."

I had to cut, I had to. Knowing that a 16 year old was trying to take her own life was about as big a downer as they come. But the thought that stayed in my mind was why would you? I tried to make sense of it, but there is none. I wondered about the Lifeguard brother, who would be trying to rescue his own family member, her Mom, right there, trying to come to grips with the importance of the phone call she was making. I felt so sorry, but in the back of my mind I wondered if she knew how many people she affected by her action?

Do any of us really know how much we influence the days of others?

I tried to smile a little more often today, I dont know if it worked, I hope so.


Aloha.

Demon Sink,My biggest 'fan', Gotta put slippers on and get to work.

Demon sink that refused to cooperate, and the palm tree tiles that were a 'discussion' by me and the ever-wise Lady C. At $4.00 a pop, I hated 'em. She loved 'em. Now that it is pau, (finished) I love 'em. I got her back on the closet handles, 'tho. .....

Aloha!

Continued view from the Lanai

L to R And around the corner....

Surf #2 And Maimai (R) & Friend..brats

Surf ! (all is good in the world)

Upstairs Renovation

Tile Designs & Stuffs

Take Your Shoes Off And Stay Awhile

Vacation Dreams

Count down to vacation time - 19 Days - (dreams? or....nightmares?) ......

Life as we know it. (or NO it)

So. Not sew, the verb.

Just how do you rectify that which is stupid?

Huh? Stupid is how stupid does.

I be stupid.

WTF.

World Transendental Frustrateamites.

No true word, I sure you all know 'dat.

No. Good word. Takes care of all positive aspirations, eh?

Good son #2 came by the Hale (home) today. Nothing like a ray of sun(son)shine to make the dark clouds of bullshit go away.

Work tomorrow, oh yes, more fun for 24 hours.

Called a mental health day today for pinky.

Beers at Kona Brewing sure do taste good. Well, 2 did. And Maile to P/U after dance class.

Winter is here. BS posers- put the boards away- time to step up to the plate, real surf is here for a few months.

Aloha.

Sand In The Shorts (or leave the surfwax out in the sun, on your car)

Baby sitting adults.

In this lot of a so called life, I have the annointment of baby sitter to adults. Fo' real. It seems to follow me all over. From the irritating as hell need to instruct waithelp (over and over and over adinfiniteum) on how it is there responsibility to check the signature, check that a room number is there, etc....I repeat this propaganda at least 25 times a night in this pink hell hole. That, as well as, listening to semi-literate immigrants complain how "fricking oostralians" stiffed them (again)...combined with the Japanese touristas that cant see the kanji stating 15% NOT included (maybe should be incRuded?) I gots my head as far up my arse right now as I can.

Now, I figure a responsible, able adult should KNOW what a responsibility is. Oh no, dear friends, that is MY job. I dont mind dissecting the chicken scratch that the drunken visitors leave, but after hearing the constant complaints on stiffing, under tipping, complainers, ya da ya da ya da, I have come to a conclusion -

Maybe you are not that great of a waiter, fool. It is a distinct possibilty.

Then you get the wonder of wonders, people who call 911, and when the first word out of their mouth is "its not an emergency"..... I mean, seriously folks, WHAT ROCK WERE YOU UNDER? For crying, (almost, seriously) out loud! No explanation for it. None. Nada. Zero.

It is 911. Emergency line. The call screeners ASK you if it is an emergency.

How do these people survive? Spoon feedings? Sponge baths? Diaper changes?

Ack. Ackitty, ack.

Then I have the wonder of all, my eldest, comboed with his GF, and her daughter. Now a disagreement, sure, they happen. Mixed messages, OK. Eldest is working. Point for you, bro. GF is not. Daughter is coming around, being 4, moving, etc., understandable glitches in that machine.

I do not run a hotel. I may work at one, but I do not run one.

So for me to expect that things should run smoothly while I am working, I find not real outta line, capish? So bruddah gets his moods, and acts up, deal with it. Ok, I can. The GF cant. So I gotta play - - - BABY SITTER TO ADULTS. I am not a lawyer, but for god knows what reason, I am supposed to mitagate this problem. (like I have the time to sit down, hash out my own beefs with them, but nooooooooo, I gotta deal theirs first)

So instruct bruddah to get his shitski together, and talk to the GF, and work things out. (because #1, they want me to pay for the GF car to come over, and help them out till they get 'on their feet') Uh, yeah, try FIND your feet first....but that in and of itself is too much brain warp overload.

Bottom line is, she is going back to Cali, which, I, for some reason, am being blamed for by Lady C.

Uh, hello?

Someone check for brain activity in my home, please?

The test pattern seems to be stuck, and the TV is only catching snow.

Loose wires?

I am so done with baby sitting of Adults.

Last one out, turn off the lights, please.

Bleeech.

Times 2.

Aloha.


Did I mention I was a might perturbed?

Irritated?

Hope it doesnt show.

What gets Old....

You know what gets old really, really fast?

Baby sitting stupid adults.

Morons.

I swear by god, morons.

Surf, and then some ...more please

"If all the if's, ands, and buts were candies and nuts, we all would have a Merry Christmas" - Andreas Martinez, from the book 24/7

Surfed at a spot that hasnt seen me in awhile. Went off the richter scale, being very aggressive in the water. Not bad-kine aggressive, good kine, in a surfers way. No crowd. Empty. Only me. Not bragging, but I surfed very, very well. Of course, no one else out, I had the pick of the litter.

Tired, burnt-ola body. At Pinky's Palace for the Friday Night Buffet/Trough feeding. Busy , busy.

Have a terrific weekend, world.

Aloha.

Dawn for Bud and The Boys...secret spot

Bastards! (click the link for dawn patrol goodies)

Aloha.

Waaaah...Sniffle.

Missed a surf. Tomorrow I will atone for this sin. Mymy was hurt, playing volleyball, so Dr. we go. All good, just a sprain.

FireCom yesterday - Actually did a kids homework on the line. No shit. He calls asking about the Makiki area - so I figure it is fire safety week related. Nope. He wants to know where the shelters are in the area. OK. I do the best I can, telling him the logical locations for them. Then he goes on to ask about demographics for the area, home prices, and what are the races of the residents in the area. Huh? You gotta love public schools, thats all i can think of. Freshman, at the areas public high. He tells me his teacher told him to call us to help him with the homework. Nice enough lad, just....Huh?

A skateboarder went down on Kaimuki & 11th ave. My old first in area with Station 5. There was always this young kid, maybe 15, who skated all over the place. always saw him in the morning, cruising. Going to school, via the simplest vehicle possible. The EMS guys call, and I call my beloved Station 5, to give 'em the heads up before we even dispatched them; we all knew this kid, I hoped it wasnt him, cause he is a good kid. EMS tells me that he has masssive head injuries, and that he is bleeding from the ears. Not good. He is also not moving. Not good, too. The Ladder guys get there, and no radio chatter, not good, again. They take around 1 hour at the scene, then go to Queen's hospital to pick up a firefighter. Very much, ...not good. We usually only assist with transport when life is critcally in danger. Because I surf, and skated, and knowing this kid, albeit vicariuosly abit standoff, I have a hard time with it. I have fractured my skull in 3 places from skating, and lost my memory, once.

Things dont look good for him. This, my friends; sucks. i dont know what to say, but a part is really sad, a part is feeling out-of-synch. Like I wish I was there, just a I wish I would be able to be around my Maile, when she was hurt. The demands, the responsiblities, they seem small and foolish compared to the need to help. I really hate working so much right now.

So before work I go to Barnes & Nobles to grab something to read, as a tonic for the mind. There is this guy, standing in front of where I have parked my arse, going through, say, 10 books at once. Smelly. Disheveled. Talking to the walls. One eye on the book i am perusing, and all attention on this gent. I read for an hour, and he was in an area 5' by 5' in front of me the whole time. How do you keep readin 10 books, going back and forth between them constantly, and stand on one leg (most of the time) for that whole hour? Now i am just about pau (finished) with the reading, and getting ready to go, and he quickly puts back all the books, and states to no one in particular - " nothing worth reading" And bolts out. There, by the grace of God, go I.

Another day in paradise, another wonder for my mind.

I AM GOING SURFING TOMORROW.

(waves permitting, of course)

Stay stoked.

I will.

Aloha.

Ainokea

IF You are looking for a link to AINOKEA STUFF - go to the main page - there is a link on the right hand side for the stuff..............

A L O H A ! ! ! ! ! !







The problem is, I do care.

There are a bunch of these stickers on cars around town. I guess the prevailing attitude is "me first", "screw you", " I no care"...get it? Ai-no-kea?

I dont know, it just irks me.

Musings from the sands of my ground-up mind - Ever notice how few people hold doors open for each other, now? And if you do, some look at you as if you are a demented freak. So my mission today, be as there was small kine surf, was to really see how many times I could get a reaction from people doing stuff for 'em. Gas station - paid to pump, and on the way back to the car, looked like Aunty was having a problem with the gas cap. First thing, ask if she needs a hand - "why, yes, thank you, I cant get the bloody thing off" Any woman who uses the term 'bloody' is alright with me. She probably downs a few good beers, too. So get the stubborn bugger off, and good karma task 1 is over.
So I go to Costco. Now, this behemoth of of a store always gobbles up my coin. Today, I figure, buy what I need, and outta there. I mean the carts are so damn big, that half the time, I am running people over for a 90,000 pack of TP. Go figure. Anywho, the place is actually very quiet, (Mr. I-forgot-its-a-Tuesday) and I meander around. Down one of the paths is Gramma. She has grandkids in tow, and a cart full of stuff. Now I spy her going to pick up a double carton of clorox, weighing in at about twice her own weight. I just go over and put it in for her, as she was distracted by one of the little ones shreiks. "why, Thank You". #2 karma good time done.

I am feeling pretty good about meself, right about now, Thank You.....

La do da do dey, meander over to Longs Drugs to pick up some stuffs that are on sale. Expressline for items 9 or less. lady in front of the line asks to use a phone, the cashiers says no. OK, I tell her "Aunty, who you like call?" "Here, use my cell"... After small conversation of HOW to use the thing, she makes her call, and the cashier screws up the other person in line charge card, backing up the line more, irritating the others in line.

Hey my job here is done, what other mischief can I create?

Picked up some trash, cleaned Lady C's Aunties car.

I will be looking for that silver lining soon.

All in all, people were pretty receptive to being nice to 'em. Now if I can just get that through my head when I am at work, life will be all good.

Gotta kill time somehow, when I cant surf.

Be good to each other.

Aloha.

Couple times a day...

" A hundred times a day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depend on the labours of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received" - - Albert Einstein

I just thought that was a really truism type spot of thought. From a fairly smart fellow.

Driving around the 'aina (land, island) today, doing the usual niele (nosy) peekings at the other drivers, I noticed some comedy. There in my rear view mirror, were 2 gents, maybe about 40 or 50 - ish, talking real animated. Stuck-ola at the stop light, not moving soon, I kept watching them. Hands flying, mouths yapping. The driver grabs a newspaper, and starts glancing through it. The passenger, oblivious to his reading, keeps on yakking away, facing away from him. Light changes, and off we go. They come up on my side, and pass. The driver is still reading, the passenger, still yakking. Except the passenger is driving. This brutal arrangement goes on for the next 2 miles or so, with me just waiting to see the result of this circus act. There is this one long, lazy curve on my way to jobbo #2, and it was coming up. Visions of a head-on were in my mind. I half thought of calling 911, but knowing how long HPD takes to respond to a cell callers complaint, I figured, no bother. Apparently, the driver found something interesting for the passenger to see, and decides to point it out. Now both of them are looking at some ad or article.

And the car is in the lane of on-coming traffic.

Nobody is headed towards them, (god protects fools, and drunks) so i blast the tinny horn on my carwheela, (my term for my truck) Mutt and Jeff yank the wheel, one from one side, and the other, fron the other side. Net result - wobble, but maintain straight ahead, canceling out each others moves to swerve. Over the curb, into a bush. They figured out the brakes.

So I stop, and go over as both tweedle dee & dumb are exiting. Just asked if they were alright, which they seemed to be; no blood, no foul. So driver says, --"did you honk?, cause thats why we crashed if you didnt honk, we wouldnt have had this happen" Followed by passenger from the black lagoons chirp of - "yeah, you caused it cause we were fine until you honked, i need to get a police officer....so..."

Now I tend to be a pretty 'elevated' personality when confronted by complete dooooofi. But a little old Mama-san was peeking around the corner from her house, so going completely bonkers on 2 of the most clueless humans born was a option I avoided. I guess mama-san had called the HPD, cause they were there in a moments notice.

In the words of Martha Stewart,... 'and thats a good thing'

'cause after the next few comments, I wasn't feeling the love, so to speak.

So moron 1 & moron 2 are yelping and squealing like the dweebs they are, to Officer Magarret. And I get to talk to Danno. So Danno is asking me what the heck happened, and I explain the scenario. So Magarret and Danno confrence, and come to the amazing conclusion that the facts are what they are, that team dooofi is fulla shit.

Not wishing 'em bad luck, but....

I hope the article was worth it.

Sometimes I swear THEY are out to get me.

I am going surfin, tomorrow sooner, if I could.

Aloha.

1 Guess where I am at now.....Pepto!...Bismol!!!

Water everywhere, none to surf....Doesn't that suck?

So,.....Wait.....lemme get....this....water...outta my ears. And this.....towel...unwrapped...from my head.....along with...waking up would be nice.....what the?......where on earth?......Oh damn, never mind......$*%@#....

Ok, now that that is over, maybe the empty space inside my noggin will fill with something besides 'air'....Back at the pinkness that is the Hotel De hostel de demantia. That fun notwithstanding, I got a whole hour of moi-moi (sleep) time in the Alarm Bureau last shift. Call the whine wagon, I know, shut the trap on the whining already, HM.

And that door is closed. We had a ton'o rain on the islands last night. Which means, for this surf-rat turned old fart, that the 911 lines decided to go lalapalooza on cue. Bizarness (is that even a friggin word?) ensues. Did all the dispatching on the radio from 630AM till Midnight-and-a half. That is always fun. I always try to throw a pidgin english slang in once in a while. Ah Yes! Professionalism at its finest! Slyly enter the pharse so the prying ears of the higher-ups dont have MORE to put in the ol' HM "permanent record". No one seemed to notice, so until the order to prostrate myself in front of the lords of enforcement, I, dear reader, reign.

So I get my hand slapped for "not treating the public in a professional manner" from the previous posts fun.

"FF2 M - you are found in violation of subsection B, of the code of conduct section #3.25746, of the HFFA memo of argeement, title 2.3, in conjunction with"......(you probably get the picture, yeah?) ....Which of course ends with - ......."on your permanent record, on file"

For crying out loud, I am 46 thousand years old, and that damn RECORD has been being held over my head for EVER! Isnt there a statue of limitations on that shit? How about an Ombudsman that I can file a complaint with?

"Uh, yes, I'd like to file a complaint,... seems like this dark entity of judgement...has been holding my free-swinging soul hosatge for like, FOREVER, with this psudeo-guilt trip called 'the permanent record' " "And I would like to take a hard-on, ...oops, long hard look at this file, myself"...."What do you mean it is classified?" .... "No, I dont have a warrant, ...no I dont have legal counsel,....I JUST WANT THE DAMN THING TO READ, so i can see what a screw-up the legions of those in control think i am!!!!!!"........

I can just see me in front of God & Saint Peter now.

G & SP - " well now, looks like you lived a good life, some minor infractions here and there"

HM - " why thank you, lord, and my St. Pete, you do look great in those Armani wings, I might add"

G & SP - " there is this ONE thing we noticed..."

HM - " anything, please, I would like to explain, if could..."

G & SP - " it seems this permanent record thing...."

HM - " .... Oh, THAT...., you know, they still dont have anyone down on earth that we can ask about that, you know...."

G & SP - " we have been meaning to look into that glitch, for like, forever, seems the facilities maintenance guys wont touch it..."

HM - "maybe I should just borrow and air-conditioner now..."

Nightmares, thats what I have. Nightmares.

Still smiling, tho'

Aloha.

Rainbow Man

It is raining, and my roofs got a hole in it and I might drown.

I said - "My roofs got a hole in it and I might drown"

Ah yes, songs from small kid time.

My roof does have a hole, tho'.

A couple of 'em. One over the stove. Another by the lua (toilet).

I found that this morning, while prepping numero two. Nothing like water on the back of your head, first thing in the AM. So tarps up, young stallion! In the rain! With the wind howling! Yahoo! (as Lady C would say - "yes, You ARE...") 8 AM and I am soaked. Never mind that in the past 2 weeks, I have had the roofer dudes come by a estimate from 3K to 8K to re-roof. Yesterday, my bro from the firehouse was suppose to come by, but never showed, maybe tomorrow, when I am submerged. His 2nd job is running a roofing company, so maybe a deal, who knows?

Until then, bucket brigade.....aten-hut! Make that numerous pots and pans brigade.

Lady C wants to put new doors on the upstairs remodel to do list.

iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouYOUDRIVEMENUTSiloveyou

My list was () this close to pau (finished). More paper needed for list, I say!

No more 6 hour shifts at Hotel de pink-o-hell-hole!!

Now they are *8*........!!!!!

And my cell rang at noon, my Chief needs to meet with me about some "complaint" made by a caller...........

I cant imagine who they mean............Not that I know who.....But he will be there tomorrow...to face the tunes....with a lyric like -

"My roofs got a hole in it, and I might drown..."

I am going down smiling, for sure. Something for the 'permanent record'.

Aloha.

*snickers*

Aloha.

*means it...this time*

Workin' Fool

---911 line rings---

"Fire - What is your emergency?"

cell phone caller - "There is a fire here, by the building"

HM- "Where are you located? And what is burning?"

CPC - "On Manoa Road, by the gas station"..."Its burning...the building"

HM- "Where on Manoa Road?, What is the nearest address?, WHAT exactly is burning?"

CPC- "Manoa Road, by the gas station, next to that little shop...It is burning..the outside"

HM-"OK, what is burning?...The building?..If so, what is the nearest addres that you can see?...What is the shops name?...Anything so I can know where to send the crews"

CPC- "We are across the street at an apartment,...It.."

HM - "WHAT is the address of the apartment?"

CPC - "I dont know --(speaks to another person, hands him the phone) ...pull up over there...(2nd person) "Hey-who? ...ewe knead twoo git here now, dee fire, it is gwowing up de wall"

HM- (in muted disbelief that I have gone from a moron, to a person that cant speak english) - "WHAT IS THE NEAREST ADDRESS?...AND WHAT IS BURNING??????"

CPC - "De addd-ress? It wooks wike it is twooo-wine-foa"

HM - "294?"

CPC- "No, twooo-wniety-foa"

HM- "OK, 2, NINETY-four?"

CPC- "Eye twink sew"

HM- "2-ninety four, Manoa Road, right?"

CPC - " No,....Eat."

HM - "Eat?"

CPC- "Yah, Eat."

HM - "Eat?...Eat what?"

CPC- "...Eat Manoa Road"

HM - "You mean EAST?...294 East Manoa Road?"

CPC- " Yah, Eat Manoas Road"

HM- (the callers are RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE MANOA FIRE STATION...2 houses away..) "You are right next to the FIRE station!!....Why did...."

CPC - (original caller)..."Oh, we didnt want to wake them, it is 3AM, you know, and...."

HM - (losing it completely) "You are right next to the fucking fire station, and something is burning, and between you and the other imbicile on the phone, cant give an address to where the bloody fire is, what in Gods name where you thinking???????"

CPC- "We didnt want to bother the station.....and...."

HM- *click*

Dispatch the companies, it ends up being a bench in front of a store, at a bus stop that was burning.

I am going to get in sooooooo much trouble for this one......

Other than that, I got another tale to tell.....sheesh.

Aloha.

Mulligatawny

Huh?

Fair warning - graphic discriptions ahead, sorry.

Just a fairness disclaimer to anyone launched from gasguy's blog - No. - Its a joke.

It is what it is, a stream of my fertile minds mush of what I do, what I think, and such. Click away, anytime, and aloha.

There are things we all do that give cause to what was done.

Huh, again?

Shit happens, 'cause of shit you do. Karma. Justice. Bad/Good luck.

Bad shit happens to good people, and vice-versa. In the line of work I have, I have really great satisfaction days. When every call is minor, every save happens, and no one dies. People, in my work, die all the time. Sometimes, we rescue them, from incredibly stupid moves they have made. Hopefully, they recover to see ... "hey, that was dumb! Maybe I shouldnt do that/attempt that again!" So not knowing what any readers pre-work thoughts are like, I open my mush to you.
I work a 24 hour shift. Coffee starts every day. And a cigarette. (I know, I tried to do it to get Lady C to quit, and fucked myself up) Take the anti-smoke rant elsewhere, Thanks! First impressions on a bad day - what are you up against? Did the family have a fucker of a day yesterday? Did the Hotel De Hell job crimp my attitude into a foil ball? Yes to both?

Well I better get OVER it, 'cause that shit dont matter squat to the public.

And they pay me to help them.

We clean, we fix, we drill. We cook for the guys in the 'house. We teach the public CPR. We inspect buildings, business'.

We bandage, aid, and assist invalids. We clean up fuel. We clean up oil.

By God, we even put out fires!

And we clean up and try to put back together ... people.

So i try to have a fairly decent attitude before going to the 'house. Mine, and others lives depend on it.

I have only myself, and these words to support my toxic mush that comes from the things I see. I leave Lady C out of it, for the most part, 'cause it isnt the most pleasant subject when your time is limited together. But at times, I talk shit with her.

Mostly, it sits in a package, stuffed in a corner, brought out only to remember why I do what I do.

The first time I performed CPR on a Gramma, and I broke almost all her ribs, now there is a sound you wont hear everyday. So much so, that it doesnt. And that is doing CPR correctly. But that sound, is planted. There are other times, as well, that the sound comes back, and it reminds me to train as hard as possible to be the best I can at the task.

A crispy critter is what we affectionately call burned corpses. Not nice, but black humor is what it is. It is Black. This isnt a playground, and recess is not in session. The job is to put out a fire, and if the deceased, could have been saved, probably would have been. Sometimes we lose. What would your feelings be if you steeped into their chest, and did not know it? Trying to extinguish the flames, the ones that took his life? What would you do if that same boot knocked open the contents of his brain, and scattered them all over the same boot? And you didnt know it, till overhauling the room? Would you feel guilty? Foolish? Uncaring? Pack it away in the package in the back, please.

The child is blue. There is froth coming from the mouth. There is no time for personal protective equipment. Do you let the child die? Really. Do you? Because according to procedures, you wont be covered for injury, if you dont use city issued protective devices at a call. So in that split second, do you risk getting anything from AIDS to HEP A, B, C or what other disease? Or do you grab the child, cradle them in your arms, cover the mouth, suck out the disgusting mix of puke, mucus, and what else, and start CPR? If the child lives, what? If you get sick? What then?

What do you do in a split second?

Where do you put that fear, that extended feeling of helping?

Pack it up, and stow it away.

Part of the head is one way, and the neck is facing the other. And the coagulating blood is forming a large blue-black mass of color. It is Thick. Stick your gloved hand in there, and feel for a pulse. None? Come back later, after the morgue guys pick up the victim, and clean the body parts, and brain matter, up. Box the feelings up.

I am sorry if it disgusts, any readers.

The boxing up permits me to do my job a step at a time. I have to, segment the stuff away, so that I can help those at the immediate time. 'Cause I aint good for shit, if my ass isnt on straight.

So I go surf, wash all the shit off.

Go to work.

Have a cup of coffee.

A cig.

Look at the sun shine.

Smile.

And thank God, the universe, my kids, my Lady C...

That they all have faith in me, and I them.

Really.

Aloha.

Posted

Conspiracy Theory / Lady C on to Maui

For the facts -

Surfed AM.

Worked on the remodel for 4 hours, got the last touches to go, but accomplished plenty.

Paid some bills.

Left the wash to do itself.

Gawked at my fine plumbing work......and saw it leak.

Plumbing has it in for me, I swear.

Work now and forever, Arggggggghhhhhh.

November, where are you?

+ , ++++ , +++ .

Lady C mounts the 35 minute flight to Maui for a funeral tomorrow, no warm body for me to yank covers off of.

Is it November, yet?

Aloha.

Stubborn

Firstly, there was some enjoyable surf this AM @ Full Point. Thankx to Hurricane Jova, who will hopefully, keep her path North-ish, but keep pumping some swell. So far. so good. Humid weather ahead.

Nuclear accident, and the scenario behind it.

Probably more or less comes from the fact that I have too few days off. Eldest son, was supposed to take the HFD entrance exam, and everyone was pulling for a good result. The test comes around once every 3 years or so, and the numbers are like this - 4000 test takers, for 120 or so job openings. Competition, yep.

So my 1 day off since hell froze over last, was a surf fest, followed by the eldest being, well, a DICK. I probably work around 325-345 days a year. Usually, if I do take a day off, it is to do some sort of home stuffs, but hey, thats my kuleana (responsibility) So I really appreciate a non-bullshit day when I am off.

But lets back-track.

So son "K" was supposed to take the HFD test. I had a day off. K decides to be a dick. This is wrapped around by the fact that his GF, M, and her daughter, K, are living here now, too. Now K doesnt feel too great on expressing his frustrations at times. This, combined with a problem of lying, or stretching the truth, has dire consequence when the old defication hits the occilator.

Confused, yet?

Ratchet up the fact that I have been exceedingly patient with K and his small BS, but you are now the owner of 2 mouths to help feed, provide for, and answer to.

Yo, bro, it is time to be a Man.

Now focus our attetion to the need to ho'oponopono, (or talk things over with refrain) This can be accomplished by speaking together, working differences out. But it takes all parties to open up to it.

Instead of taking down the facade, K amps up the level of DICKism to new heights. I remain calm, keeping head about me, and not doing much but trying, in vain, to get common sense through the thickness of brain matter.

Shit, it didnt work for,... well, shit.

DICKism goes full bore, and I still stand firm within the storm, as does Lady C, and GF, M.

2 days of this crap-fest.

On the third day, all calm has said its final Aloha, and reverted to pure, unadulterated, unfiltered, pissed-off-as-shit-Me.

I work too damn much, to deal with this BS, and I let him know it.

At about 15 on the volume scale, and the dial goes only to 10.

But he is stubborn as a mule, so nothing got heard.

And Double DICKism went on display.

- so the dust settles, and he is sent packing, to wherever he wants to get his shit together at.

And per as usual, I feel like shit for blowing the few gaskets I have left in my head.

One thing is for sure, this time, he better sure as heck, Get It.

I am too damn old for this shit, I have too full a plate, and I love this whole clan way more than anyone can fathom.

Rules.

Responsibility.

Questions, answers.

We are here for each other, not for ourselves, but sometime, you gotta give the self up for the team.

Aloha.

Surf News, Work News, Good News, Bad News, All the noose thats fit to print...

Surf will pick up thanks to Hurricane Jova off to the east.

Nuclear meltdown with eldest, suffice to say, hum-dinger and no winners, everybody loses.

Sun came up again, today.

I am at Hotel De Hell-i-fino, for another shaft-ola of a day.

Almost finished with the up-stairs remodel, actuallt did plumbing, and nothing leaked, first time through.

(Usually it is a fifteen rounder, and the leak wins)

There are not enough hours in the day...

Aloha.

Peace.

In Case Of Emergency Break Glass

There are shards everywhere.

Who is gonna clean up this mess?

Drama-rama-lama & the beat.

Who, indeed.

Back to basic insanity, the inmates are running loose in the field, and no one thought to mow the lawn.

Not drunk.

Auwe!

Aloha.

Rules

It is not wrong to call in sick, if youre surfing, right?

NEIL.

Neil Young Interview - 45 minutes well spent.

Get 23:00 minutes of the interview - It Is It.

Album cuts on da web site (whole album)

Aloha.

Where they came from

Click the link above to see where the waves came from.

Teahupoo

(cho- po)

Tahiti.

If you ever want a surf nightmare, here it is.

Serious, serious stuff.

But sooooooooooooooooo fine.

If only my 'nads were bigger.

Aloha

Surfed Out

Yes I had a day off.

My arms are toast. I gotta work a 24 tomorrow.

So what.

I am stoked.

I had a 3 hour surf fest, not where I wanted because everyone and their mom were on it. So I relegated myself to a spot known as Pillars, and paddled to another spot known as Siltys - like the silt. In between, paddled around to another spot by the name of Terrors, and wondered around the Moanalua Bay like a dog in heat.

Caught a ton of waves. Nothing earth shattering, but enuf to make me smile.

I must have paddled a couple of miles. 'Cause I got knots where knots never have been.

Nose salt water drainage.

I am a happy pup.

A L O H A ...

Afternoon CW's 

Afternoon CW's 

Surf Surf Surf And More...Surf

The swell forecasted is showing from out in fromt of Hotel De Hell.

Oh boy, tomorrow is going to ROCK!!!!

Forgive me if the next bunch a posts are all wet......

This monkey is going to be in Heaven....

And I am OFF from both jobs 'morrow.

Karma has come around for the hopeless.....


Plenty and plenty more....ALOHA!

1,2,3........Surf!

Joy of joys, I got a surf in. The much hyped southy didnt really show its merit yet. Too high a tide for the forerunners to feel the bottom, and give up the goods.
But the packages that got to be opened before the tide killed it where worth while, for sure. Ended up in the water for about 3 hours, nicely pruned, and posted the photos with water dripping out the snozzola.

Drove by 3 favorite spots before finally settling on an obscure spot, by the name of Rice Bowls. Named because the wave warps and curves like a bowl, hence the name. The wave itself is pretty good, and the lack of crowd made it all the more worthwhile.

Northshore had its first real swell of the winter season set foot on the shores today - solid 6 feet hawaiian style (10ft + faces) Had planned on going to the country, but after slopping $50 buckolas of petrol in the truck, couldnt see the expense, being I had to work at the hotel anyways. I know it isnt long by mainland standards, but a 90 mile round trip wasnt on the menu. Altho' after seeing the pix from my friends website, maybe it woulda been.

There is always another day.

The waves were pretty well manicured this morning. Winds started off fairly light, and Diamond Head blocked most of the wind that was blaring down the valleys. So out into the ocean blue - I find it more and more healing as I age along with the soil. ( now thats is a weird one) I always do the same actions before I go in the water. Make the sign of the cross, ask whoever to keep me safe, and let me see the eyes of my Lady C, K, Bear, and da Maimai. Habit. Kinda like dipping in the holy water, so to speak. Tom Blake once said that the ocean is his religion, and that his church is "the blessed church of the open sky" I really like that quote. Getting that first taste of salt water is invigorating in itself.

I swear, it is like it just washes all the bullshit off of me. Maybe it is just because of the simplicity of the entire surf-dance. It is a board, shorts, and me. Pretty refined, I guess. I dont think I can put into words what that first moment is like. Maybe it is like a orgasm. Or maybe like pulling out a thorn, you know how the release, or relief?...(wink, wink)

OK, sexual innuendos aside, it feels pretty damn good.

Refreshed.

Thats the ticket. The best part is it stays with me the whole day. I kinda skitter along, all stoked about the waves, getting some excercise. Maybe a burnt nose to boot. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

I gotta bottle that, and stash it for the long, hard days.

I am a lucky man, truly blessed.

Stoked!

Aloha.

Driving to the beach, ( I am a fortunate soul, I am....) 

Board, Door, Grass, Truck. 

Koko Head crater, behind my home, on the way for a surf check. 

The 14 Y/O & The 1000 Y/O Man...

It may sound corny, but this is my favorite pix of me and the Maimai - I will always protect, and she will ALWAYS get into the monkeys arse.

She is 14 today...I am 1000 years old

The resident terror of the isles turns 14 today, and I get to work. Hotel de Hell. Welcome to Monday in the tropics.

I will now put the whine over here on the side, right next to the cheese between my ears.

'Cause I have no reason to complain.

My little blonde version of the entire cosmos turns 14 today, (summer re-runs, doncha know) and the grey hairs on my head seem to be using miracle grow. Not too mention the absurd amount of grinding going on down in my opu (stomach.) The little lady was such a surprise 14 years ago. All I know is as with all my children, I wish them nothing but happiness and success, and apparently this is achieved by owning an Ipod.

Why do I spoil them?

(grins.)

Tired. 24 at FCC is killing my sleep patterns, not like I have any patterns to anything.

Reorganize the brain, love ya Maimai, Lady C, K, Bear, M, and tykelette K.

Inspiration maybe tomorrow.

Aloha.

343

Three Hundred and Forty-three

In a few days my daughter will turn 14. The day after 9/11. For her, for my family, for anyone - bare with me if the following words migrate to the realm of non-sense.

We did not create the hate that day, the hate that festered in a religions confused minds. We were only called to duty, a daily duty, one that never sleeps. There wont be any daughters turning 14 for many of my calling. They wont grab-ass in the firehouse with those who they did for many a time. The alarm will ring, the trucks will pull out of the station, and they will ride along, only in spirit.

The turnouts they wore, will hang unfilled, in the locker.

Because of a misguided hate.

We see the best people in their worst moments. There were 50,000 worst moments that day. Not counting the fears, the mind staggering awe of those on the ground. Those at the tube. We who were not there to catch you as you fell. Serving is a great high. Helping the public is a great high.

Hate. Pure evil. Surrounded in a cloak of religious dementia.

Spoon fed lunatics, filled with propaganda; access to the almighty dollar, willing to die.

Die they did.

I can only imagine the nirvana they inhabit now. It has to suck pretty bad, knowing how pissed the brothers of the firehouse must be. Pissed off firemen, 343 of them. Not quite the 700 virgins your religious pontiffs said would be waiting, I bet.

We still go to work. For you guys. For your families. For the public.

Because there is no greater conquest than not quitting. You fucked with us, your demons of hate, focused on our world, our way of life. You will not succeed in your attempts to weakens us. In your hate you have only united us. You wanted us to quit.

Losers.

Your next attempt, we will come to the aid of those innocents you have targeted. You will take some of our loved ones.

They were Loved.

And there, lies the difference between you, and us.

They are still LOVED.

Your hate, has damned you for all time. Your names will not be spoken in hushed tones of gratitude. Not even by your own kind. Because you failed.

You failed, losers.

It didn't work. You didn't accomplish anything but creating heroes out of people who already were.

To their families.

To there fellow firemen.

To the public.

I will not hate you.

I will not let that fungus grow, multiply, and infect my soul.

I have a job to do.

It is the greatest, most unglamorous job in the world.

And it is mine.

Unlike yours, to spread hate, mistrust and violence.

I will spread courage, compassion, and care.

In the days ahead, I will reflect, pay homage, and pray.

I will pray for the guys.

I will pray they are having a cold beer in heaven.

That they are watching over us all.

You lost.

God Bless FDNY, and the families, friends, co-workers of the 343.

Peace.

Aloha.

"Coffee Inside" or "Breaktime Needed"

Surf Report, Surviving 24 hours, Hotel de Hell

Incoming news says we will get one more banger of a swell from the south soon. Tahiti will pound out some serious surf around Tavarua, & the rest of the prime spots. Teahupoo (cho-po) will get behemoths. Photogs will be having a field day with the pristine waters.

I will be a pig in shit.

Survived 24 at the firehouse, many calls. Little sleep. 3 days to work at Hotel Hell and do it again. Cant wait for Vegas in November. When you work 325+ days a year, time off is gold.

When the hell was my last day off? I have no idea. Oh well.

Now that the arrogant, loutish, demanding fans of the University of Southern California have left, the place is its normal asylum. The inmates have regained control. What a bunch of maroons. The moron, not the color of the team, for sure. I think I have never seen a more spend-free, asshole bunch in 23 years at the Pink Lady. No, we are booked, sorry, are not answers they hear on a regular basis. South-California dweebs in the flesh. No wonder they surf like shit.

Ok, rant is over.

Sorry 'bout that.

The call for the lady in the vent was interesting. Apparently, this female had gone on the roof of one of the larger malls in Honolulu. There happened to be workers up there. They asked her what she was doing, she was authorized to work on the exhaust vents. Somebody with a brain alerted security, and they confronted her, only to have her jump up and down on a grate over the vents. I guess that is where the common sense ends here. She broke through the grate, and fell 10 ft down the exhaust shaft. I took the call in Alarm Bureau. The first thing the caller said was that he was with the mall security, and that a lady was stuck in one of the exhaust vents.

Which means - A rescue company, a ladder company, and a Chief. Confined space rescue is the correct term. She is talking at this point. The troops gain access, start to devise a plan. She slides in further down, to a point of restriction 16" wide. So the rescue guys start in on figuring a way to her, and she starts chanting of some sort. The guys couldn't figure out the language, or the reason, she at this point had ceased all sensible communication.

So 5 hours later, they have torn apart the exhaust vents, and pulled her out, unconscious.

2 days later, she died.

This one gets filed under WTF?

What could besides drugs, psychological condition, have possessed someone to do such an inane act?

Go figure.

Aloha.

Laundry Mat

I really enjoy doing the laundry. With as dysfunctional a crew as is my crew, the clothes pile up. Towels, girl-changes-a-clothes-cause-she's-13, work clothes, rags, etc.

But it is in the doing of the laundry where I find some solace. (along with assorted change, dollar tips, miscellaneous trash) We have maybe four hampers at various locales around the hale (home, pronounced 'Ha-lay') It is a golden egg find most of the time, to get all the wash rounded up. How clothes can be removed in one area, and migrate on their own to another, is a feat in its own right. Then again, there is no crew like MY crew.

Girlie things; find their way into my hamper, along with Lady C's stuff. Now, Lady C is no size 2. So being that there is only one other femme fatale in the home, the smallish panties, arent mine, so hmmmmm?, whose could they be? Maimai & her attire, seem to part ways in a myriad of places. Sometimes, I think they leave without her knowing. Then again, at 13, what happens 2 seconds ago is along time gone.

Back to the joy of wash.

Once the gear is gathered, the fun starts. Procuring a basket to haul the tonnage is in itself, a expedition of Lewis & Clark realms. First I gotta find one that isn't STILL FULL from the last wash batch. Once that treasure has been discovered, moving right along to - heavy stuff first, little light stuff second. Towels and jeans, as well as floor rugs, mats, jackets. In they go. The many different stages of remodels in my home has placed the washer right outside my masterbedroom door. Seriously. Because the first addition was the back patio (lanai) back in the day, it is now enclosed, to make my TV/Computer/ Masterbed area. But the washer, she stayed. Not like she had a choice. So all the needs are right there, above the washer. Dump the clothes, wash-a wash-a wash-a.

Pau (finished) with that, the next is drag that load, and since it is the heavy stuff, hang 'em on the solar dryer.

It is in the hanging that a good deal of meditation takes place for me. I get to look out to a volcanic crater to my right, and the trail that leads to its apex. I recall the hikes with my kids. the runs up there to take in the beauty of my home, my islands. I can even get a quick surf check, if the south shores are happening. Even a peek to the East side waves, if there is action out that side. So in the hanging, I remember good things, good times. The next door neighbor has a huge shower tree. It has thousands of tiny leaves, that fall all year long. They get into the wash basket, creating a pattern of sorts. I guess that pattern reflects in the hanging, 'cause I always tend to hang the stuff the same. towels in the back, jeans and other heavies in the front.

The tedious task of laundry has become a necessary evil, but the task has opened up a time to reflect, a time to take in that which matters.

But the dryer hates me.

The dryer sits on the complete other end of the house. In the garage. Where. of course, it is in charge of electrical consumption. And master and commander of lint. Hider of socks. It likes to take a load, toss it around for a while, and buzz that it has finished the job. The sucker never finishes the job. It laughs its little dryer laugh, when I open it up to find the items half-done. So i reset the dial, and after another billion kilowatts, it produces well toasted clothes. Almost crispy. I have taken this thing apart, fiddled with this and that, and it just does its own thing. Bastard.

Folding is like zen Buddhism. Especially when the day is short, the nights long, and I have managed to again, leave the wax in my surf shorts, thereby leaving wax all over everything. I have ruined more surf shorts that way. You'd think I would learn. Hrumph. Towels get the fold-a-rama sequence. All the same way, the same size. Except, of course, the beach towels. Because the are the size of a King Bed sheet, they take about a hour to figure out what way to fold. Then of course, the Maimai uses it to dry after a bath. Arggggh. How can a 100 lb girl need a towel the size of Texas to dry? A calmness can occur when folding, the state of enlightenment almost achieved. Then reality hits, and I gotta get done, packed up and off to work.

I guess I am lucky, for the one thing about this routine I love is that in my Laundry Mat, I don't discriminate between whites and colors, everybody goes in together. And damn, if they don't get along well. Clean as a whistle, waiting for me to do it all over again.

Back to the firehouse tomorrow, 3 days of Hotel Hell has raw edges around my brain, surf missed by a smidgen, but there is more on the way.

Accomplishments are small, but the point of view, large.

Hope everybody has had a great Labor Day weekend, and prayers out to the N.O. families.

Aloha.

Stuffed Cabbage

So - we march on. Together, unified, or seperate, alone, disheveled. We march on. I dont feel a need to reguritate the news. You can see it any of a million ways. A million views. Opinions are like....and yeah, I, you, and everybody else got one. The live link below may give a more hands-on approach to the scene if you are so inclined.

Lets not play the blame game. Common sense, normal outrage lays it where it belongs. Nuff' said on that. Here is for anyones perusal, the bureaucratic BULLSHIT that I faced yesterday at the Alarm Bureau, a.k.a. firehouse.

Bare with me, folks, it will all come out, with out bleach.

We had a bunch of alarms, yesterday. The facts are, and will forever be, logged in the good old mass of goo atop my head. The call for a brush fire comes in. The crews go, and see that it is in an area virtually inaccessible to the guys (girls, too). The crews need more manpower, so we send them. the Chief in charge of the situation he asks for some assistance from the military, who in our last big fire finally came around to help, after 3 (sound familiar?) days. So our job, down at Alarm Bureau, is to get the wheels turning. So we call. We call the colonels, the generals, the grunts.

"parapharse" - yada yada yada yada yada is all I (we) hear.

Our chief, via the radio, is understandbly, pissed. You can hear it in his transmissions. So the gang bust ass all day in the hawaiian sun, cutting down the fire, protecting endangered specis of plants, animals. All the time wary of the fire going over the ridge, down the valley, to the MILITARY AMMO DEPOT on the other sdie, in Lualualei. (sorry all my ancestors knew about were vowels, 12 letter language does that to the words)

And they do the job. They get it under control by early night fall. Chief thanks the crews, everybody off to bed.

All we (HFD) were needing, was a another chopper to assist with water drops. Kill the fire, help the boys.

Never came, needless to say.

And you know what comes around, well, yes indeed, it goes around.

So night time turns to later in the night time. About 9PM. Cell phone caller. "Fire - what is your emergency?"

"I am up on Kolekole pass, up above the brushfire today, and we are missing 2 soldiers from a hike today"

-"OK - let me get some information"........

So let me nutshell this operation.

It seems that 2 soldiers got disoriented, and lost on the trails above the westside. This is on military land. We really have to jump thru hoops to access, get coordinated with the soldier guys. (thanks again, Al-queda!) Terror levels, you know, all the red tape you need, thanks! Our Air1, it is the pilots call to decide to fly or not at night. He outranks the Fire Chief, on this call. We lost 2 pilots in recues back in 1996-7 in the span of 6 months. So his word, is the end word. So while we make calls, get people on the same page, all kinds a shit breaks loose, saturday, 3 day weekend, the natives are restless)

Air 1, he says...No.

Of course, life safety in question, he would go. But these guys were safe, via a dying cell, and hunkered down for the evening. The military Fire Department, the SAY they are going to go, and will let us know what is up. (we are seperate from the Fed Fire, BTW) So far, so good?

Morning light comes, we get called, they NEVER went, they waited for light, so that we HAVE to go.

These are the same bureaucrats that couldnt spare a chopper for a couple of hours to protect the bombs and shit they store here. So we bust ass, for the red tape line.

I get home late, miss a hug, a surf, and generally, tired.

But - (and I got a big 'un) - -

It seems like a good view of all the BS that surrounds the whole shit-fest in Da Big Easy.

No one has the balls to say DO IT. Do IT Now!

Spineless, pencil pushing, dweebs.

No one has/had the balls big enough to put OTHERS before SELF to get the damn job done.

Blame 'em all if ya like.

I say what if just one of 'em had some friggin gonads, and put the job on the line, and got the shit moving?

Hero?

Or fool?

Feel free to disagree.

.....Aloha....

Promise to tell 'the lady stuck in the exhaust vent' alarm next time.......

Surf Is Up, BTW. (ahhh, some good)

New Orleans Live BLOG

Click da link for a Live Blog from Da Big Easy.

Best out to all suffering.

More later, good stuffs, innaressing stuffs, stuffs & more stuffs.

But I really gotta moi-moi (sleep!)

Prayers & Aid & $$$ to Da Big Easy / AM Surf-O-Rama

Before I indulge in a self serving of stoke about this mornings surf, drop some change to the redcross if you can. They are good folks. I dropped a coin or two, so whatever is available, do it. If you cant spare a cent, try to organize some collection or something. Hope we all know we are in this situation together, as one, as 1 country.

AM surf session at China Walls - got in the water at 745AM. Dropped off the MaiMai at school, lotta hugs and kisses. Surf was looking pretty good. Only 2 others out. Had a great fun 3 hour session. Of course now I am back at Hotel Hell, busy as shit, as USC is in town for the opening game with UH. It is madness here now. Tons of USC drunks, and families, and crowds. Oh well.

Aloha.

It is just tooo damn busy, back to the HFD real job 'morrow.

~ * 13 * ~

Overaught adjectives and run on sentences aside, I'll try to keep it short, sweet, and to the point.

For crying out loud, what happened to my little girl?

There was communication, there used to be warm fuzzies going back and forth. I guess this too, shall pass. Like bad poi, or stale beer, its gotta end some time.

Soon, please.

The fact is, I try to be understanding of the ins-outs of teenage angst. Sure I cant relate to it, but I can say "been there." Not as a 13 y/o female, but around 'em, yeah. The Mai-Mai is a sweet as they come, and thoughtful, caring young lady. To have her just defy myself, and my instructions, well, it hurts. Really. It physically, hurts. Headaches not withstanding, I could do without it. Part of me says 'a good licking' would solve the problem, but I know it wont. So I don't. Yelling will just amplify the lack of control, that, I do. Common sense is proving useless, since I cant be there 24/7 to make sure it prevails.

Pass already, please?

The blatant lies are nagging at my heart, to think the raggamuffin that she was, is turning into the pre-adult I dread. Sure enough, the BS detector has to be on and in working fashion. Time and infinite patience will be required to wait it out I imagine.

You just want them to be safe, Yeah?

I know she will come around, but the days seem so long, the moments of happiness so fleeting, that it crushes my heart to be angered at her. She will be fine, I know. I have faith in our family, that as team, as a unit, all challenges will be overcome. They don't put instructions on this in the Dad guidebook. I looked all through the sucker, twice, and couldn't fine a thing on it.

The part in the guide book about giving in to Lady C on all accounts, I think someone added after it was published, 'tho.

Hey, I still got Humor!

Peace, prayers out to Katrina's victims.

Aloha.