Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: a&e, beth, bounty, bugsy, crazy, dog, duane, hunter, kids, rufus, suv, tv
Sometimes when I’m home alone (which is a frequent happening) I like to pretend that my boyfriend and I are like Dog and Beth from that TV show Dog: the Bounty Hunter. I don’t know why, really…but I’d like to think that as a couple we’d kick some major felon ass. With Greg being the wisecracking but understandable yet outspoken alpha male; I’d complement his ways with my know-it-all stance and impatience for the incompetent. I could see us riding around in the Denali, or Suburban, or Yukon (whatever SUV they drive) with our mightiest kids backing us up. Every afternoon I’d approach Greg with a new crook who just jumped a $20,000 to $50,000 bail and claim that this idiot just got his hands into some very hot water. In normal situations we’d get the Girlfriend to help us entrap this motherfucker, but today, oh boy, we gotta get the guy’s mistress to help us catch him. I can see it now:
ME: Rufus, honey, we got ourselves a real winner here hun.
GREG(from here on out known as RUFUS: THE BOUNTY HUNTER [rawr!]): Oh, yeah? Lemme hear it. Height? Weight? Local? Does he have tattoos or birthmarks?
ME: Hmmm, jumped a $35,000 bond and last known he was dabbling in dat ice, yeah? Melman’s got the info…
MELMAN (Our son with the ponytail): Yeah dah, he’s 5’6” about 157 pounds, dark hair and gots a devil tattooed on his back, yeah.
RUFUS: (writing on the whiteboard) All right, folks lets see if we can catch this brotha. He into that ice, he knows it ain’t no good…
ME: Can we go already…? Why are you wasting our time? I’ll be in the car, hurry up.
RUFUS: Woman, I gotta make sure we got all the facts on this guy before –
ME: Would you just hurry the fuck up? All you’re gonna do is write on that board, he could be sitting at Wal-Mart as we speak in Kahu–
RUFUS: Bugsy…please don’t speak to me in that tone. You know I don’t like it when you speak to me like that while in front of the camera.
ME: Get yer ass in that damn car. NOW!
And off we go searching for ice heads and bail jumpers. Of course….in reality…I’d be a much smaller version of Beth…Greg wouldn’t have fathered 10 kids from other relationships, our children would have non hyphenated names, oh and I’d be his first wife not his fifth. Or seventh. Thirteenth? I also imagine our theme song would not be sung by Ozzy Osbourne, but instead The Red Hot Chili Peppers, or maybe Sublime. Also, I would wear the cool sunglasses. Not him. And instead of a prayer before each bounty, we’d sing Stand By Me. And the crooks don’t get a cigarette in the end. No, they get a punch in the face for robbing us of 35 grand and making us have to chase them all over Maui (not O’ahu, or Colorado), and possibly a pat on the back as a “wow, man. You really fucked up this time….” while we place them in the hands of the court. That’ll teach ‘em to never run from RUFUS: THE BOUNTY HUNTING BASS PLAYER. And his awesome wife Bugsy. 
Filed under: Uncategorized
is that you see the same damn people every day. That’s a pretty cool thing when you see people you really like or know pretty well. But not so great when you see those people you’d rather stab with a dull steak knife as they smile creepily and follow you until you go into a store. That’s just the men. There’s crazy hippie women who smell like rotten spinach and three day old dog food, the trampy 15 year olds who dress like skanky whores and hitch hike every where, and the old woman who just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. There is one guy who I enjoy over and over again, but I can never remember his name. He always stops with his little cart full of cans and bottles halfway down the street before I even see him, and calls me over. I love this old man. He doesn’t smell, he has an actual job, has family, isn’t smoked out always, and is so nice it pains my aura to be around him. For some reason no matter what kind of mood I am in, he always makes me feel so good inside. Of course, five minutes later I feel like my same old cynical self, but hey, Five minutes is five minutes.
This guy is thumbs up!
On another note. I attended this party out in Kuau (5 minutes from Paia) and decided that I really do not like the wealthy people of the Maunaolu Plantation Gated community. Not all of them are bad news. When I lived there for maybe 4 days, I did meet some very nice people. However I, being a student, obviously do not belong in a “high-roller” gated community. I know this and didn’t expect to be welcomed by anyone there. All right, so at this party there were a mix of tourists, locals, hippies, and wealthy jerk offs. So I mingled mostly with the tourists and locals (I hate hippies and what do i have in common with the wealthy jerk offs? zip.) So, I overheard the conversation of this fat bitchy blonde woman who had the brain the size of maybe my fist (and i’m a small person, here) . All she could find to talk about was:
-Her $200,000 car
-Her Gucci Bag
-Her stupid kid’s skiing lessons that flopped (probably because her kids hate her guts anyway)
-Her hair
-Her hair
-Her hair
-Her collagen injections
-The baby sitter who has $10.00 glasses “that dropped in the drive way and got all scuffed up OH MY GOD! WHO DOES THAT!?!?!?“
-Her weight (which naturally she should get lipo…oh wait…she TRIED THAT. FAILED.)
-Her house
-Her husband (who she is allegedly cheating on and everybody knows…or at least now they do.)
Now, I know eavesdropping is not a good thing, but she was talking so loud how could I fucking not?! When one of the other women (who I met through the girl I lived next door to) introduced me to her I cringed (with a smile, of course!) and she looked at me up and down stating that I looked like a semi- healthy version of Mary-Kate Olsen. (I cocked my head bit my lip. Probably should’ve backhanded her….) Thanks, Bitch! At least I weight less than your left arm, fat cunt! How rude! I took it as a complement then made a quick exit by explaining my famous boyfriend who is in a band and touring all over Europe needed me (picking up my non-ringing phone I went outside). It’s partly true. He IS in a band…and probably needed my assistance at the time…and he IS going on tour. Anyway, this woman was such a waste of a human being it hurt. She has nothing interesting to say, do, or exist for. I felt bad for all her friends. Luckily, I made friends with some Australians and walked out that door faster than BOLT. That is the last time I let anyone drag me to a party…Pass!
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I’ve been on Maui for only a little bit of time, but so far, I hadn’t tried a sweet Maui onion. Even though I thought that all onions on the island were “Maui grown”, I apparently was wrong. Restaurants ship a lot of their produce from the Mainland, and this entire time I’ve been eating onions from California. What a crock! I walked into the wannabe WholeFoods (but probably better; even though its more expensive) across the street and decided that last night would be the night I tried one of these “famous” onions. Well what the fuck? Why is it that this veggie is grown on Maui, yet I still have to pay like five dollars for one?! Am I crazy? It’s not like I don’t have five bucks (and okay, it was more like three dollars), but still…the onion wasn’t even that great. It may have been a little bit sweeter…but I would totally take my yellow Cali onions over the ones here. I could’ve gotten like two pounds (pound and a half?!) of them instead of one measly (totally pathetic looking) little onion. Granted, I was in a highly overpriced organic health food store, and I did throw a mini-shit fit that , I’m sure, was the last thing this checker needed. Here’s the incident:
Checker Guy: And $3.19 is your total.
Me: (Perplexed look upon my face) I only had one onion…
Checker Guy: Yeah, $3.19
Me: Wow. Wow, really? Are you sure? Because I could’ve sworn it said PER POUND
Checker Guy: Nah sista. I’m sure.
Me: Alright, uhm…can you please look again because, I mean, I’m expecting more like fifty cents. Maybe 89….
Checker Guy: That’s a range….uhm…I’ll go check for ya sista
Holding up the line and huffing and puffing I turned around and said to the guy behind me who, clearly, was not from the island:
Me: Are we on Maui?
Non-Island Guy: Seriously?
Me: Well, I’m really confused as to why their onions are so expensive when they are grown and picked or husked or plucked or whatever on Maui…
Non-Island Guy: Haha, maybe it’s global warming…
Me: (irritated and positive this guy is half-brain dead I turn back around and greet the checker)
Checker Guy: Hey sista, you outta luck. $3.19 girl.
Me: Can I ask why this onion is so expensive when it’s grown and everything on the island?
Checker Guy: I dunno, why not get the other ones. They’re cheaper, I know that.
Me: (I pause, look down at my teeny onion) No. I want this one.
Checker Guy: Then I want $3.19. (smiles)
Me: (Admitting defeat, I give him a five) You win….but I get these mints for free! (Grabbing a tin of mints I put them in my bag and grabbed my change)
Checker Guy: I don’t think so sista. I’ll take ‘em.
Me: Fine. I didn’t really want them anyway…(I smiled and continued to the door)
Non-Island Guy: I told her it was Global Warming HA HA HA HA (imagine that obnoxioius “want to punch this jerk in the face with brass knuckles” type of laugh.
Really, though. Maui onions….Pass….thank you.
