The Franksabunch's Top Ten Ways to Prevent North Korea From Shooting a Missile at Hawaii

For the first time.

[PROTECTED POST!!!!]

There are many things that The Franksabunch™ has not done in this life.  Some of these I have yet to accomplish simply due to random chance or lack of opportunity while for others the stumbling blocks have been shame or guilt.  The former consists of things like visiting Korea (The Wife™ is Korean) and writing a novel while the latter are of a more nefarious nature, like cracking a silent fart in a full elevator and…going to a strip club.

Sometimes all the planets align and you get your chance.  Do you take it?  I did.

You see, The Franksabunch™ had the day off while The Wife™ had to work until 4:30 pm.  Some of these places open in the early afternoon so there would be ample time for me to go for a couple hours and leave, with none the wiser.  That this place is known to be frequented by tourists and those on the lower rungs of the socioeconomic ladder only served to embolden me with its promise of being able to see without being seen.  Regardless, I still sauntered silently, with furtive glances to screen for any familiar faces being the only breaks in my downward gaze as I went to pay for the cover to get in.  Once inside I looked around and saw that I was not the only one here early.  Through the dark veil of anonymity I could still pick out at least 10 other men—and, oddly, one woman by herself—sitting and waiting with a drink in one hand and nervous anticipation causing tremulousness in the other.  Why not?  After all, the main attraction is lean and young, a pretty hapa girl who we get to see work the stripper’s pole.  Half Chinese, half Caucasian.  It doesn’t get any better than that. 

I sat about halfway in.  Too far up front to be recognized from behind and far enough in the back for anyone up front to care.  Reminding myself that there was no way I could come here if The Wife™ knew, I smiled as I slid down in my seat.  And when it was all over, Kristin Kreuk had killed the bad guy and the credits from “Streetfighter: Legend of Chun Li” started rolling on the screen.

What, you thought I was doing something else besides watching a movie by myself? 

Up until Streetfighter, I had never seen a movie by myself because I was always embarrassed.  I didn’t want to be seen by other people there as some loser without friends.  (Now I don’t care…marriage can do that to a man.)  And the movie?  The Wife™ refused to see it with me and there actually was a stripper pole in it (Chun Li uses it as leverage to kick a bad guy, sorry, guys, no nekkidness).

I thought about the whole “bucket list” thing while I was at the movie.  For me there really is no bucket list.  Only what I hope to have in this life (to love and be loved) and everything else.  But sometimes I get so caught up in the former that I forget the Technicolor that new experiences can bring to the sepia of daily life.  I always thought I’d be too chicken to try rock climbing, but found that—after checking to make sure that I didn’t soil myself—being on the top looking down was about as exhilarating as anything else.  I used to think that all African Americans (except Bill Cosby and Gary Coleman) were ghetto until I shared a room with a black guy from the ‘hood in college and learned that the color of the skin doesn’t always correspond with the color of the soul that lies beneath.

So what did I learn from this new experience of watching a movie by myself?  Nothing, really.  (Except that Taboo from the B.E.P. can’t act.)  But I’m looking forward to what the next one might teach me.

You only live once, my friends.  Make the most of it.

Have a great week!

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For those of you, like me, who are still mourning the passing of Battlestar Galactica, listen to this 100x.  I have.  Starbuck, where have you gone?!?!?!

And I don’t understand why the British are always so amazed by unattractive people with bad teeth who can sing well.  Haven't they seen Madonna perform before?

P.S.--Yes, I know it's not a protected post.  Just trying to trick you into reading it.

My Chinese massage and why I fear Chinese women.

We all break promises.  Bush in finding the weapons of mass destruction.  Obama with keeping lobbyists out of the White House.  Puff Daddy in not changing his name again.  Dr. Phil in never talking again.  (Well, Mr. Walrus really didn’t promise that, but one can only hope!)  And me?  I promised after my first full-body massage to never get another one.

Well, we all know how those kinds of promises end up, huh?

The Wife and I were in Las Vegas a couple weeks ago and being the cheap economically engaging couple we are, headed down Spring Mountain Road towards Chinatown to find her a massage that wouldn’t cost the equivalent of 10 Bellagio buffets.  During the drive I told her that I wouldn't mind a chair massage (upper back only) but wanted to avoid the same fiasco with the last massage.  However, when we entered a seemingly reputable establishment she told them that we were going to get a couples massage.  What?!?!?!  It being Chinatown near Las Vegas, I figured she was afraid of one of two things if we were separated:

1. Her being kidnapped and sent to an opium brothel in Toronto
2. One of the ladies accidentally giving her husband a “full-release” massage (don’t ask, children, you don’t want to know) 

But no matter what the reason I was now trapped.  Unless I ran screaming like a girl or feigned cardiac arrest I was going to get a full-body massage by an F.O.B. Chinese woman.  I have always feared F.O.B. Chinese women.  Growing up as the child of immigrants from Taiwan, I was in constant contact with F.O.B. Chinese women and found them to be brash, insensitive, lacking tact and out to get theirs, come hell or high water.  (And that’s just the ones with the dim sum carts!  Kidding.)  This always clashed with my mellow, laid back personality.  My first full-body massage was at a snooty place in Palo Alto that was very gentle, respectful and professional.  The masseuse introduced herself to me and every part of my body was covered by a sheet except for whatever part was being worked on.

This place?  Let me just say that I appreciate that snooty Palo Alto place much more now.  Before we started I waited lying face down covered by a bath towel and my masseuse came in, ripped off the towel full monty style one time for your mind, leaving me more exposed than a hotel heiress named after a European city.  Since she didn’t introduce herself to me, I had no idea if she looked like Zhang Ziyi or gnarly Ephialtes from the movie “300,” so the entire time I wasn’t sure if she was using knuckles or warts to push on my pressure points.  There were no boundaries here, either.  The last lady would only massage the bottom of my poi bags.  This one?  There was nowhere she didn't go.  I was violated more than U.N. sanctions in the middle east!

The two women chatted with each other in Mandarin throughout the massage and at one point one of them left the room for five minutes leaving the door open.  I was like, “Helloooooooooooo!  My chocolate star is facing the sky right now!  Helloooooooooooo!”  At this very moment I’m sure my bungholio is someone’s facebook profile picture, having been uploaded from that person’s cell phone camera.  They shorted us 10 minutes and the best part was when the ladies demanded a $20 tip for each person, even blocking the door to prevent an elderly man from leaving until he’d tip them.

That night during the massage I thought about how this would do nothing to change my view of F.O.B. Chinese women, but then I thought...should I get upset or should I try to understand why they are that way?  I once had a conversation with a guy who lived in Shanghai in the 1940s and 50s, and he told me that back then he had a lot of fun because the ratio of women to men was 40-to-1.  The ranks of men were tremendously thinned out due to the losses they sustained fighting Japan.  Can you imagine being a young woman or widow in post-World War II China?  You’d have to be brash and aggressive just to survive, let alone get a date on a Saturday night.  It’s no wonder that most of the Chinese women that I know are fiercely independent and proactive in their relationships.  My mom, for example, has always run our house, even when my dad was still alive.

There are many people that come in and out of our lives and a good portion of them will have some character trait or behavior that we find deplorable or more irritating than a Carrot Top marathon.  However, instead of immediately casting them aside or getting defensive, perhaps we should take a step back and consider that there is a reason why they are that way and grant them a little grace. 

When we meet we all come to the same place from different places.  None of us are perfect and I am sure that there are character traits that I have that drive other people crazy as well.

So what did I do?  I considered the fact that they are immigrants trying to keep food on the table in a recession, so I gave them their requested $20 tip ($40 for both of us!) without a fight and walked out.  After all, it's better than having them put my bungholio on facebook.