Treasure.

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure…at least that’s how the saying goes.  (No, I’m not talking about Paris Hilton.)

Question: how do you create one of the most highly educated burger men on earth?

Answer: you get The Franksabunch™ to man the buns and condiments section of the lunch line.

This past Saturday I was in the south bay at an organization helping to feed a group of homeless/unemployed people.  Having been a cook for Pizza Hut (death to Domino’s!!!) in my youth, I figured I’d help out in the food line (we grilled burgers outside of the center).  My job was to grab the buns and put mayo, ketchup and mustard (or whatever the people preferred) on before passing the plate on to the pickle person.  (If this wasn’t for charity I would’ve refused to touch the mayo.  There was more mayo than a NASCAR barbeque… More requests for white than a Baller’s after party.  And when some people asked for double mayo I served it with a smile but on the inside felt more nauseous than Rosie O’Donnell’s pedicurist.)  

Knowing the population I was going to serve, I intentionally dressed “down,” at least certainly down by south bay area standards.

• Free T-Shirt (gift from a church, probably costs $3 to make)
• H&M long sleeve undershirt ($9 bought on sale)
• BR Cargo pants ($30 on sale)
• Polo socks ($7 on sale…notice a trend here?)
• Underwear (that’s classified)
• Sketchers ($40 on…..sale!)
• Bulging biceps ($99/year membership fee to 24 hour fitness, yes, on sale).

Funny thing is…that’s how I usually dress anyways.  Haha!  Anyways, there’s a reason why I’m talking about what I wore…more on that later.

I began opening the larger bags holding the 6-packs of buns by ripping the plastic open instead of taking the twisty-tie things off nicely (it’s faster and also impresses the wahines more) until someone said, “hey, man, can I have one of those plastic bags?”  I wasn’t sure if he was joking until I looked up and saw someone whose lot in life has obviously been less fortunate than mine so far.  I passed him a bag which he then folded nicely and put in his pocket.

Suddenly everything I was wearing went from being bought at a good price on sale to being overpriced.  I felt like my clothes were glowing brightly, taunting him with what he lacks. What was trash to me would probably serve to keep one of his treasured possessions from getting wet in the rainy storm that would hit the area the next day.

It was quite a humbling experience.  One day I’m running around work as a “specialist” in a nice white coat and the next I’m being tsked-tsked by a homeless man in a dirty brown coat because I didn’t put enough—barfarola—mayo on his bun.  Haha!  But it wasn’t quite as humbling for some people…because…

Halfway through the serving a group of 3 girls, and an adult man and woman come up with a big plastic bin.  “We’re volunteers,” they say.  “We’re doing some gardening here at the center, can we have 15 burgers?”  Of course while they ask this of us there are still 20+ homeless/unemployed people standing behind them in line while the girl asking me for the burgers is adorned with:

• Makeup
• Earrings, necklace
• Torn jeans (I guess more holes = more expensive)
• Two different tank tops and a jacket

All of which probably costs 3x more than everything I was wearing, and then some.  Apparently her ensemble was so expensive that she had no money leftover to purchase a clue!  What in da double decka hecka were they thinking, getting in the middle of the line to take 15 burgers away from all the homeless people?!  [Actually, they wanted 30 but said they'd take 15 to start.]  Of course, the girl at the front was just a teenager, but the adults with her…aiya.  Luckily our person in charge came over and sent them packin’.  And to their credit they left without a fuss.

I’m more than willing to admit my hypocrisy.  Afterwards I went to lunch near 99 Ranch and didn’t factor cost into what I ordered and that night I drove in my SUV for a birthday dinner at the posh Santana Row area, but I’m still shaking my head at that group’s lack of common sense.

But back to the plastic bag…  It’s amazing what some people will regard as a treasure, huh? Are we better than those who find value in plastic bags?  Or in some way are we worse because we don’t appreciate the value in the many things we take for granted?  We’re all 2-3 paychecks away from being homeless, as they say.  One of the most touching things I’ve seen recently was a month ago at the gas station near my place, where I saw 2 homeless men walk out of the gas station store (using money they likely got from the recycling center across the street) and one gave the other a bite of his hot dog.  Could you do that if you were in his situation?  Give away part of what could be your only meal for the next day?

I probably won’t change my lifestyle or spending habits after this weekend.  (Not that I’m a big spender, anyway… I’m p.i.m.p. in the way I regulate and pontificate and not in the way I drop bills. )  But the next time I throw away a plastic bag I’ll be sure to be thankful of what I have…

—-

Have a great week!

And quick poll…I have 2 weeks (16 days) of vacation in a couple months…should I…

1) Spend ~12-14 days in NYC (and maybe include quick side trips to Bahston and/or D.C.) where someone better hook me up with tickets to Rent! or…

2) Spend 1 week in NYC and then 1 week back home in Hawaii (I might be able to wing free fares for 3 of the 4 one ways)

What would you do if you were me?  My next vacation after that won’t be until Noviembre.  (I’m def hitting NYC since my sister lives on Brooklyn and will be moving in July.)

Body Fluid Bandits.

So this past weekend I went shopping to pick up supplies to make bibingka and when the Safeway homie bagged my 2 cups of bisquick, etc. in horror I stood there frozen like a Canadian in December as he licked his finger in order to separate the plastic bags.  It instantly brought me back to the 3rd grade (when I was only 5’10″ ) when my teacher licked her thumb to give me my test paper, leaving a big wet thumbprint in the upper left corner where my name was supposed to be.  (To this day I still ask to be held when I think about that moment.)  Carrying on…

This particular grocery store does not hold true to its inverted name…Safeway does not = Waysafe.  Who knows what I could’ve caught from this guy…influenza, adenovirus, herpes simplex virus, or the worst….cooties!

I’ve never understood why people don’t realize how n.a.s.t. it is for them to do that.  I don’t think homie would’ve appreciated me licking Benjamin on the face and then handing it to him to pay for my groceries.  It’s basically the same thing as him spreading his pestilence all over my egg roll wrappers.  I expect to get splashed with body fluids at work but not when I’m purchasing food!

All this got me thinking about all the n.a.s.t. people I’ve encountered in my lifetime…so rrrrradies and gentrrrmen, I present to you…

The Body Fluid Bandits!

The Gleekers a.k.a. the Salivary Glands.

One of my best homies growing up was this guy named Ed.  We went to the same intermediate school and on one particular field trip he kept tormenting me by threatening to dig my nose.  He would place his finger right under one of my nostrils as if he would violate me and then laugh and pull it away.  Unfortunately for him on his last attempt the bus went over a bump in the road forcing his finger–ZOINK!–up my right nostril.  He spent the remainder of the ride in various contortions of disgust, attempting to wipe his finger clean.  And since then our friendship has never been the same. Bwa ha ha!  But I only mention this because he also had a particular skill…..gleeking, which is being able to open your mouth and eject a projectile stream of saliva from your glands.  So in honor of my friend Ed I am naming the aforementioned finger lickers the Gleekers, since what they do is equivalent to gleeking all over you and your personal belongings.  Saliva is like your secret that you have a 3rd nipple…it should only be shared with your future wife!

The Gold Miners.

There’s a reason why the most n.a.s.t character in the Revenge of the Nerds movie series is named “Booger.”  It’s because boogers are nasty.  For some people picking your nose is an occasional necessity, for others it’s like they’re digging for gold.  This one person I once knew always went spelunking with his index finger in front of other people.  Now what are you supposed to do when someone like that digs and then hands you something or sticks out his hand for a handshake?  Boogers are like having an emo cousin…it’s necessary for good health to occasionally bring them out into the sunlight, but better for society if you hide them from everyone. 

The Gym Mops.

Besides wahines who chatter incessantly on their cellphones next to you on the elliptical trainers and the guys with no game who want to ball with you on the court (I abhor running with those guys because they increase everyone’s risk for injury and you can’t Dikembe swat their shots without feeling guilty), the people at the gym who drive me insane in the membrane are those who leave their sweat all over the place.  There’s nothing worse than finally finding a free bench to use and then finding it looks like a crime scene with someone’s body outlined in sweat instead of chalk.  (The best is when you can actually make out where the crack between their butt cheeks was.)  There’s a reason why 24 Hr enforces a must-have-towel policy…it’s so you can use it!  Sweat is not like Hillary Clinton in an election year…it’s not meant to be left behind!

The Bad Santa Clauses.

Remember what your parents used to tell you?  That if you were bad this year Santa would leave a lump of coal in your stocking?  One particular Bad Santa I knew told me that when he was mad at a friend he’d take a dump in their bathroom and not flush.  Not everyone is that malicious, but I can’t believe how many times I’ve went to use the bathroom at work (#1 only) and found scraps!  (I sure hope wahine bathrooms aren’t afflicted with this, too!)  Don’t you look into the toilet when you flush to count the corn?  Flush it again!  Poop is like a Backstreet Boys CD collection…no one else should know that yours exists!

And with that I’m signing off….in saliva, boogers, sweat and poop.  Have a great rest of the week!

———

Check out this video I found on youtube.  Someone spliced together footage to make it seem like the Enterprise (Star Trek) was fighting the Death Star (Star Wars).  The video itself is a’ight, but the best part is reading through the comments, as the various Trekkies and LucasFreaks argue about who would really win if they fought in real life (because, you know, they’re both real and not fiction).

Weirdo.

Tagged by OCRosie.  Tell everyone 6 weird things about you. (Me thunketh that I did something like this before a long time ago?)

1. When I was younger I would eat certain foods piece by piece. Potstickers (man doo, gyoza) I’d eat the inside filling first and skin second. Pizza I’d eat all the toppings and cheese first and bread/crust second.
2. In high school my nickname was the “Rubberman.”I was so flexible (well, for a guy my size) that I could put my leg over my head and I managed to get through my junior and senior seasons on the wrestling team without getting pinned despite getting twisted more than a presidential campaign promise.
3. On the piano when I was younger and on the guitar currently, sometimes after finishing a song I’ll sit there for a few minutes and listen to the last chord faded away into silence. I haven’t found many other moments in life as beautiful as that.
4. I can’t bring myself to clap along to songs during concerts/service. I blame it on the Presbyterian blood that runs 4 generations deep in my family.  It’s not due to a lack of rhythm…it just doesn’t feel right!
5. I can go insane in the membrane in a karaoke room or bar, but I can’t sing in the car when I have passengers.
6. In my entire life I’ve only let one girl initiate the first kiss.  Theoretically, of course.  I still haven’t even shaken a wahine’s hand yet. O_o

And here’s the winner of the 3rd annual Hook me up, Frankie! contest!  The winner gets one free year of premium and free gear from Fear to Faith Industries, courtesy of YD0K.

Happy Valentine’s Day!  And congrats again to the winner, I’ll get you your premium soon!

Get More!

To thicken the pot more….if you win the Hook me up, Frankie! contest (post below), Fear to Faith Industries will throw in a FREE SHIRT and FREE HAT courtesy of YD0K!  Woop!

Hook me up, Frankie, round 3!

It’s that time of the year again, subbers and stalkers.  With V. Day coming around the corner it’s the 3^rd annual Hook me up, Frankie! contest for one lucky wahine to win free premium!  Details to follow at the end of today’s post!

Lost in Translation

Having spent all of my graduate and beyond edumacation in big cities on the wesssaayyiiiide of the country and #1 place in the world (aka Hawaii) I’ve had my share of interactions with people who no speaku engrishu.  Here was one the other day…

F.Bunch:  Hi, Ms. XXX

LW (Latino woman): [Nods and smiles]

F.Bunch: Your regular doctors asked me to see you, como se siente?

LW: Bien

F.Bunch: Respire bien?

LW: Bien

F.Bunch: Tienes dolor?

LW: Gdwognoispeormprogpskgmpthknd;sdjsoe;roignfgigd;gohisn;ognd

F.Bunch: uh….

LW: Hdfosorfngsotigsepogsoigsnodifjbsdpofgnafbnslsdfindibnodfibnsd

F.Bunch: uh…..

LW: Jdjfabidfjgsalsiduusliufalsdiuhldiughsldfiuhaliufhldiufhzlfiuhldiuh

F.Bunch: uh….sorry, no hablo espanol.

LW:

HAHAHA!

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, trying to speak a foreign language to someone for whom it’s a native language is like talking to the girl in da club with Bambi eyes…you better be ready to roll big or you’re going to find yourself mumbling like an eeediot.

You’d think that having a translator helps, but sometimes they just make things worse. 

Example #1:

My old clinic attending when I was a rez told me that one of his favorite encounters was when he asked what the patient was treated with in China.  After a long and heated conversation between the translator and the patient, the translator responded, “he said, ‘take 2 blind dogs, make soup and drink.’ ”  To this day I still don’t know if he got wok’d by 2 yellow men pranking the white doctor.

Example #2:

F.Bunch: Well, you have 2 treatment choices, #1 xxxx and #2 xxxxx.

Translator: Yeah, I think #1 is better.  We should do #1.  [Then talks to patient in her language.]

Patient: Okay, #1.

F.Bunch:

It makes me wonder how many things get lost in translation on a daily basis…  So here is the Franksabunch™ Translation Guide® (FTG)!

Her: Honey, can we go on a double date with J&D tomorrow to the Olive Garden?

Him: I’m sorry, honey, I couldn’t hear you, what did you say?

FTG: Heeeeeck no!  

Her: Hey, do you wanna dance?

FTG: Hey, can I cheat you out of free drinks all night since my guy friend who has a crush on me isn’t here?

Him:  Did I ever tell you that I love you?

FTG: I’m sorry I said yesterday that my exgf was prettier than you.  Can I watch Smallville now?

Doctor: We need to run more tests.

            FTG: Dude, I have no idea.  Ask the next guy tomorrow!

Lawyer: I think we should file an appeal.

            FTG: I checked, you still have $10,000 in your savings account.

           (Ouch!  I’m going to lose my 10 lawyer subs for that one.)

Mechanic:  We usually change the rotors when we change the brake pads

            FTG: Cha-Ching! Don’t forget to come for your oil change every 200 miles!

George W. Bush: To win we must not lose or else we won’t win.

            FTG: To win we must not lose or else we won’t win.

Hillary Clinton: I will bring the troops home by 2008 if I am elected President.

FTG: And then I’ll make Bill change his last name to Rodham!

TheTheologiansCafe: Today Barack Obama told Oprah that he’s not 100% black.   Do you think black people should be called “African American” (no hyphen) or “African-American” (with hyphen)?

           FTG: Don’t be hatin’, I’m just trying to get more eprops than Cakalusa! 

                    I’m a grown-up with content WORTH being featured, fo’ shizzle.

Okay, that’s it.  Sorry, I’d think up more but I have to give grand rounds next week so my time is shorter than Dr. Phil’s hair!  But here’s the annual V. Day Hook me up, Frankie! contest…

The Prize:

• FREE PREMIUM!  (If you already have premium, it will extend your current one.) The past 2 winners were summ3r21 and insearchofadvice.

The Way:

• I will put all of the nominations in my Fear to Faith hat and then draw a winner next week.  No favoritism, I promise.

The Rules:

• Only wahines (XX chromosomes) can win
• Everyone gets ONE nomination (“raffle ticket”)
• If you don’t want to nominate yourself (or can’t because you’re male) you can nominate someone else so that wahine can potentially get more than one chance to win
• Each wahine is capped at receiving 5 raffle tickets
• To get nominated, say in a comment, “Hook me [or someone else] up, Frankie!” (not an email or xanga message because that would be a pain in the okole to sort through)
• Blank xangas will be disqualified…this ain’t Congress, I’m not going to spend money on nothing.  (Completely protected post sites are okay, but obviously I have to have access in order to know that.)
• All nominations have to be in by Sunday, 5:37 pm, Northern California time (as opposed to Southern California time…what?)
• Flattery will not help you win, but you can certainly try.
• Good luck!

And finally, since fatfreemayo demanded it, here’s my sooooper easy recipe for kim chi fried rice:

1. Cut up one whole can of spam (yes, one whole can) and one large white onion, throw in medium-high heat.
2. After a few minutes add kim chi without cutting it up.  The key is getting GOOD kim chi (meaning from a Corean market, not Safeway).  I buy the Manna brand here in California.
3. Turn heat down to medium, cover, stir occasionally.
4. When kim chi is getting a little on the translucent side add your rice (~3 cups depending on your rice cooker). 
5. Add more kim chi juice from the jar to desired spicy level or torture of your guests level.  You do not need to add soy sauce or salt.
6. Put fried rice in serving bowls.  On another pan fry eggs over easy (yolk still runny) and then put on top of each mound of fried rice in each bowl.
7. As a stand-alone dish it can serve 3-5, even more as a side dish.

Kim chi fried rice is like a first kiss…keep it simple and it will be worth the bad breath.  Cinco de Fatfreemayo, just don’t serve this at your next speedating event, or else no one will get engaged next time! haha….

Left: kim chi fried rice in bottom right as part of super bowl snacks.  Right: with egg on top (the eater should break up the egg into pieces and then eat).

Edit: One of my patient’s brought me a pheasant today. HAHAHA! Anyone know how to cook that?

Go Bears!

My prediction:  Bears 24 – Colts 20.  I’m making kim chi fried rice for my guests…let me know if you’ll be there.

How to eat like a Ninja

I had this past weekend off, which can only mean one thing…cooking!  I hardly have time to cook during my weekdays and working weekends, so I try to take advantage of my weekends off…  And, yes, this is simple stuff that even a former college linebacker can do.

For this meal I thought I’d pay homage to Team Japan and its standard bearer, deux02, so here is The Franksabunch’s™ guide to eating like a Ninja:

The difference between fried chicken and mochiko chicken?  No one will ever be impressed that you made fried chicken on your own.  Step 1 for mochiko chicken: 4 tbsp mochiko powder, 4 tbsp cornstarch, 4 tbsp sugar (I prefer brown), 5 tbsp shoyu (a.k.a. soy sauce), green onion, 2 eggs, garlic (use that masher thing) –> whip up together in a mixing bowl (or rectangular tupperware, if you’re ghetto fabulous).  Remember, homies, mixing ingredients is like farting in front of your GF for the very first time…make sure the first one is dry, and not wet.  Putting the wet ingredients first will make things harder to mix and letting a wet one fly will leave you without a date to watch Smokin’ Aces.

And as usual, remember to buy chicken that is on sale!  Woop!  Cut the chicken (I prefer breasts instead of thighs due to the fat content of the latter) into small pieces.  This does two things…increases the batter-to-meat ratio and lessens the chance of burning/overcooking.

You’re supposed to let it sit overnight or for 5 hours, but I usually don’t have time and often cook right away or after one hour and it usually turns out okay.

Did you think that I was only going to do one dish?  I ain’t goin’ out like that!  So while the chicken is marinating, mix together cream cheese, green onion, garlic, crab (real crab, you think I roll with the fake ones?) and white onion in a bowl.

When putting together your crab potstickers, remember to squeeze all of the air bubbles out when you seal them.  Fry in oil until golden brown.

After that throw some vegetables in a pot and make curry yakisoba (you can find the curry yakisoba at any local Asian store).

Then cook your mochiko.  You’re supposed to deep fry it but in an attempt to make it a little more healthful, I pan fry it.

For salad I recommend the Angelo Pietro sesame and miso…  Manly hand not included.

Don’t hate me because I can cook.  Hate me because I’m smarter than you.   Ha!  Nah, but the best part is that this whole meal (good for 3-4 meals, actually) costs less than $20 (even less if you use imitation crab) if you don’t count the seasoning (shoyu, mochiko powder, salad dressing, etc.) and the 20 lbs. bag of kokuho rose rice that’s sitting on my kitchen floor.

——

And to start off the week on the wrong note (wrong notes, to be exact), here is a clip of presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton singing the national anthem (her voice becomes audible halfway through the clip):

Is it just me, or did she sing the wrong words?!?!?!  She sang, “O say, does OUR star-spangled…” when the real words are, “O say, does THAT star-spangled…”   She sounds like a cat that just gave birth to triplets.  I hope that she didn’t sing Chelsea to sleep, otherwise the former 1st daughter is likely irreparably damaged!

edit: sorry, don’t have a recipe for potsicker wraps…I’m not savvy enough to make my own.  I buy them pre-made. =D

Love remains.

I used to dread coming here.

Was it guilt?  Denial?  Or perhaps a little bit of both?  I used to dread coming here, to stand on the side of the hill where my father is buried, where I will be buried and many of my children and their children will be buried when our time comes.  Instead of a palpable feeling of emptiness, I feel at peace today.  Much like the spot outside of the house of my childhood, where I love to dwell staring at the night sky, the wind whispers into my ears and embraces me once again…

This time I cannot escape the palpable emptiness as it weighs down my feet as I walk to my grandma’s burial site.  It’s ironic that as one of the few who could not make it back to her funeral a few months ago I am probably the first to see her tombstone, which just arrived.  I smile when I see that the letters and symbols are exactly the same as those adorning my grandfather’s on the left.  She’s home now.  With him.  I place the lei on the ground, the same type I will give to my father later.  I chose a lei because flowers you just give, but in Hawaii when you give a lei, you also embrace that person. 

There’s nothing like standing amongst the departed to make you realize how mortal you are.  Rich and poor, strong and weak…we all end up the same six feet under.  I am not going to live forever, so what will my legacy be?  How will I be remembered?  Being published?  Being rich?  Being well respected in my field?  Perhaps having a disease named after me?  Is that what I want?

I once wrote that “both radiant and fading, human lives are just like the flowers we leave in remembrance of them.”  And it is with those flowers today that I find some solace amidst the cross-stitching of cold stone and growing grass…I see a grave from 1958 that someone left flowers of remembrance on recently, half a century later.

Love remains, though we do not.

…Tomorrow I will get on a plane and return to the mainland to resume my fellowship and be swallowed by the hospital and all its madness once again.  I used to think that my legacy would be in serving my community, taking care of people, all the while being known as “The Man” who graced the cover of the “Best Doctors” annual edition of Honolulu Magazine.  That’s what I’ve been working for all these years.  But after visiting my grandma and my father today I realize that all those things are fine and dandy, but without that something else, it is all for naught.  That is why I have decided that when I return to work I am going to be working for something different.

My legacy will be to build something that remains.

So that’s why I’m at peace now standing on the side of this hill, where my father is buried, where I will be buried and many of my children and their children will be buried when our time comes.  We will all remain.

And that is the best legacy one can ever hope for.  Won’t you join me?

——

Have a great week!  Go BEARS!  (No, I’m not jumping on the bandwagon, I’ve followed them for 20 years! ) 

Random IM last night:

hi..  this is just a xanga fan of yours..  just wanted to say that I find a lot of your posts very insightful and had used some of it in my scrap book of ‘life’s guidance’..       thank you for the posts..       have a good night..  =)

You signed off before I could say thanks.  So thanks.

And to end the day, a couple quick thoughts about the election:

1.  Hillary Clinton.  Me thunketh that the 1st female president will be a Republican.  I think a Republican’t woman would be more likely to get more Democrap men and women and moderates to vote for her than the other way around.  And besides, if she couldn’t get Bill to be faithful to her, how could she get Congress to?  OUCH!!!  Haha!  Nah, but seriously, seeing her hide after 9/11 while Giuliani was rallying the people and then roll her eyes while giving Bush an ovation during his speech made me lose all respect for her.

2. Barack Obama.  As much I would LOVE to have someone from my ‘hood (yes, homies, Barack was born in Hawaii) become president, politics is one of the few areas in which getting more gray hair  = more power/skill/savvy/respect.  After only one term in Congress, I don’t think he’d be ready to take on the world.  A little something I found out per Chinapocahontas…

Exsqueeze me?

Overheard today in the ICU (according to a secret source):  “You see, in pulmonary/critical care we can actually do something about the ABG [acid-base problems], unlike nephrology, who can only talk about it.”

So I guess the next time you call me at 2 AM to save your okole because your patient is dying due to acidosis you are unable to fix/prevent, I’ll just take you out to Starbucks and get some coffee so we can ‘talk,’ eh?  Do you want one lump or two?

The amount of ego sundaes served in the hospital never ceases to amaze me.  Arrogance is fun, but humility is safer for the patient.

HAHA!

Sorry, I’m just ornery because work was supah dupah fly bizzay this week after vacation.  Haha!  I’ll try and crank out a post for next week!  Have a great weekend!  Eat your vegetables!

The life-preserving thong.

So after snorkeling through Hanauma Bay with a gangsta lean I decided to take a break.  Sitting on the sand crafted by eons of wind and waves, I surveyed the scene before me and saw a sickening sight, one whose magnitude of horror has not been seen since Michael Bolton permed his hair back in the day:

Said I loved you but I lied…I love my chest afro more!

I saw throngs of Japanese thongs.  Bubblin’ Barack Obama, what is going on here?! O_o

Okay, so they weren’t real thongs, but this was much worse.  At Hanauma Bay they have available for snorkelers ”flotation devices” which are enantiomers of life jackets.  They’re like an inner tube around the neck, but here’s the best part…along with the usual horizontal strap around the chest, there was a vertical strap which looped under the, uh, Netherlands.   I didn’t have my camera with me, so I’ll draw you a picture (click to enlarge, and please forgive me for spelling “unnecessary” wrong, I drew it jet-lagged after arriving back):

It doesn’t seem too uncomfortable until you realize that when they’re swimming, the flotation device, well, floats and thereby lifts up on the vertical strap, uplifting your singing voice 3 octaves.  My companion at the beach asked me if I would wear one of those for a large sum of money, to which I replied, “I would rather drown than risk getting a strangulated testicle!”

I hate to be vulgar about it, but it was the worst case of camel toe the modern world has witnessed since Britney, Christina and Jessica were unleashed on the top 40 world.  There were more camel toes than a Saudi Arabian desert race.  More wedgies than an intermediate school locker room.  More injured manhoods than a NOW (National Organization for Women) conference.  More, well, you get the picture.  Sisqo would be proud.  It was quite comical to see a whole gaggle of Japanese tourists singing the flotation thong song like a group of fashion lemmings headed off the cliff of beachwear insanity.  Whenever a large group of tourists came away from the equipment stand and started to put the devices on I could hear the thundering silent sound of 20 rectums simultaneously contracting when the straps were tightened.  Brings new meaning to the term, “Banzai Pipeline” in Hawaii.

Much like an inebriated Tara Reid, a soliloquy from Rosie O’Donnell or American Idol reject auditions, I could not help but stare at such a macabre disaster.  But the funniest part?  Only the Japanese tourists used them.  No European or American tourists donned the sterilization straps, making me suspect that there was a little extra marketing done towards our friends from the land of toro nigiri.  I swear it must be Hawaii’s passive-aggressive way of getting back at the Japanese for bombing Pearl Harbor and/or extending Michael Jackson’s career past 2 decades.

So as we start the new year, dear subbers and stalkers, remember…  At Hanauma Bay, just say no to camel toe!  (The water is pretty shallow, you don’t need the life preserver.)

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A couple of albums I’ve recently picked up (both in part due to YD0K, thanks man!) that y’allz should check-it-check-it-out: Far East Movement (Work is the best track) and Meg and Dia (track #7 and 11 are the best ones).