Vantage Point Drop

Pink Dictionary and Me

v0p0d — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 01:58:05 +0000

About a month ago ( maybe more, I’m not keeping track) I was sitting at my boyfriends computer playing some word game on Shockwave.com. His roommate came in and asked what I was doing to which I simply replied “Playing some word game…”. He paused for a moment then asked “Why are girls always doing crossword puzzles and word game things?! I don’t understand!” Yes, Brian. You did say this. And I still remember it every time I do a crossword puzzle. Anyway, on this ~~disgusting~~ rainy, cloudy day in Maui (yes, even Maui has shit weather.) I decided now would be a great time to conquer another set of word puzzles. But now, I’m lost. I still have Brian nagging in the back or my brain “Whhhhyy“. While I do not know the exact answer to this question, I can say on behalf of myself, that it’s entertaining. Not just the brightly colored animation sequences or the cute little sounds the computer squeaks out every time you get an answer correct, but it’s my curiosity that gets me. I mean, there’s only so many words you use every day. How about when you’re given a chosen set of letters that don’t make sense when put together and are forced (by a little clock in the right hand corner) to make 185 words in 3 minutes? It’s amazing what you come up with just by guessing. So in my astonishment that Xenoglossy, Protologism, and Conkerer are actual words; Yes, I am thoroughly entertained. This…this is why I enjoy my crosswords, word searches, text twists, brain teasers, bookworm adventures and occasionally a Bejeweled game. I enjoy the ego boost of learning new words that absolutely mean nothing to anyone except for me. And possibly my dictionary. Which is another reason I like to play these games. It gives me a chance to use the dictionary I bought just because it was a psychedelic shade of pink.

: GET ONE TODAY!

Suga on my Cuffs

v0p0d — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 08:24:32 +0000

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.

The thing about Paia…

v0p0d — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 04:20:21 +0000

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 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!

Love & Sockets

v0p0d — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 00:07:09 +0000

I officially watch absolutely way too much TV. I have accepted this fact after I realized I was now interested in even the commercials. I am so in love with half the commercials on tv nowadays, that when I hear in the background they’re on, I drop everything and run to the television for 30 seconds. Between Southwest Airlines and Frito-Lay I seriously will be growth on my couch come July.

i cannot locate the Southwest commercial I was looking for. They have every other one minus the one I like. Figures.

I Love Billy Bretherton

v0p0d — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 21:39:38 +0000

Things that have been getting on my nerves today:

Fruit flies in my bathroom:

I cannot for the life of me figure out where the fuck these things are coming from. There aren’t too many of them, but I noticed while bleaching my counter earlier they were sticking to my mirror. I thought this was weird since I JUST smeared Windex all over it…how can they still be alive? Well, these motherfuckers are pissing me off! I set a red wine and dish soap trap (like good ol’ mom taught me) and they are still coming back! I have no food, no leaks or anything of the sorts in my bathroom, so I don’t understand why the fuck they keep flying around. Now I wouldn’t mind the few of them that I have, except for the fact that they are idiots. It’s true…they fly around all drunk off wine and Windex and they can’t figure out if they’re coming, or going. They bash into the mirror, kamikaze they’re way into my face, and hover over my light fixtures like nobody’s business. If they weren’t so stupid I’d almost give up and leave them alone. But no, it’s because they’re so brain dead that I feel the need to kill these suckers off before I become insane.

Geckos in my Air Conditioning:

Who in their right mind would expect that the air conditioning unit in my bedroom would be a perfect little home? Apparently, a Gecko would. After finally figuring out how to work the damn thing, my air conditioning went wacko again and I decided I would either chuck an axe to it, or figure out what the hell was wrong now. I’m not sure if this little guy was the actual problem, but as I approached the unit, I heard a faint Gecko call (which I’m used to and thought it came from outside) from the ceiling. So weird. I opened the unit (not easy since I’m short and it’s WAY up there) and “HELLO” Out scrambled a spotted yellow and black Gecko. All right, I love Geckos. But what the fuck is one doing in the air conditioning unit?! Not only scaring me half to death (these things are fast!) but also still croaking at me I got down from my chair (short) and looked up bewildered at why anyone would want to live in an A/C unit. Granted Maui is hot, but honestly do you want to live in an igloo. All that cold air blowing up your ass could not be comfortable. On top of that, it would dry out your skin like insanely. This little fella decided it was safe enough to go back into the unit once I left it alone for a few minutes. Well lo and behold as he tries to jump into the thing he falls flat on his back onto the ground. I would’ve helped him but I felt obligated to laugh at him instead. And because I’m part crazy, I told him stop being so dramatic and get back into his ice hut. And now he lives in my closet. Great.

CSI:Miami

I hate this show. I will admit, I’ve been drawn into it a couple of times, and I’m part obsessed with Jonathan Togo, but, honestly, this show is pure cheese. Which is quite a shame, really, since the original CSI is my all-time favorite show ever. But David Caruso does an excellent job at being a douche bag. I will applause that. I cannot stand the way he hovers over the other characters and makes the most uninteresting plots seem so much more worthless than they already are. Also, I find Calleigh (who the fuck know what her name is) very vindictive. She’s always out to get all her co-workers. Why would you want to worth with some bitch like that? No, thank you. She may be an ace in ballistics, but he people skills sure do need some work. And BOA VISTA?! First off, I don’t get her deal…or her name. But she…is way too trusting. Her co-workers fuck her over always. The show is never in order when I watch it on A&E, but I always seem to tune it right when it’s on. I cannot begin to explain the pain that shoots through my skull when the screaming theme song comes on. I have to turn the channel. The only good thing (person?) about the show is Jonathan. Except, his character is a sneaky son of a bitch. Sneaky…sneaky. But this show pisses me off on so many levels that even writing about it is getting me aggravated. The plots are stupid, the characters suck, and God, it’s Miami…yuck.

Wind:

I absolutely highly dislike this windy spell bullshit Hawaii is spitting out right now. Why the fuck are winds 30mph every fucking day and night. This past week has been nothing but hot, beautiful, sunny days with the added bonus of getting your top ripped off by the insane wind that is passing through. How obnoxious is it when you’re trying to sit on the beach and sand is literally whipping up and stabbing you in the legs, arms, and face. Seriously, it’s like tiny little needles poking at once and you can’t get away from them. They only poke harder! Oh, I am so distraught about this wind. You can’t even walk down the street without getting blown-over, or smacked in the face with a loose coffee lid. Plus, it makes sitting out side to eat impossible. You can’t put your napkin ANYWHERE because it’ll fly off the fucking table, unless you keep your fork (and knife) on top of it, but then, what am I supposed to eat with? My feet? Not to mention the greens from my salad flew on the girl’s table next to me, causing me to have to apologize on behalf of the wind because it’s so incompetent and keeps knocking over my glass of water. I don’t like wind.

On a lighter (and less complainy…?) note, I got a chance to watch that new show “The Exterminators” HAAAAAA. I absolutely fell in love with the main guy Billy. He is such a Hick, and so hilarious. I really think I just like him because his humor is so awkward, and he talks to the bugs and other animals all crazy. I think the whole nut-job thing matches much of my personality, which is why I’m so attracted to this odd show. This family of exterminators goes and deals with the strangest inconveniences of other people. Rats, raccoons, black widows, alligators. Everything, it’s really quite entertaining and I highly recommend watching it when you have absolutely nothing to do. Did I mention it takes place in Louisiana? Ha. Yeah, never staying anywhere there. Black widows?! No thank you. Pass.

Maui Onions Suck

v0p0d — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 03:06:39 +0000

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.