Archive for July, 2010

Al Gore Sex Attack!

By
July 21st, 2010



Claus asked me what I wanted for my birthday. "I don't know," I said. I really don't. I don't want more clutter at home. I don't need anything, either.

"I want... um... I want..." We were talking about this while at the grocery store. I was putting the food on the conveyor belt when my voice trailed off because I wanted to focus on that task.

I then looked up at the National Enquirer and read the shocking headline aloud. Al Gore Sex Attack!

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Claus stopped for a second and looked at me. "I don't think I can arrange for that. Any other gift requests?"

So... seriously, any suggestions out there? I'm tapped out for ideas. I could use some fresh thoughts - but nothing that involves Al Gore. Who, by the way, I have met briefly! HA ha!

***

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Chase's birthday

By
July 19th, 2010



My friend Lisa's son just turned four. We all got together at her mom's house in Kalihi to celebrate. By we, I mean all the classmates from Kamehameha.

Funny, but we all chose to have children around the same time, so the kids range in age from one to six. That works out nicely for playdates, though not everyone lives in Hawaii anymore.

It was good fun - fun to see my old friends, and fun for Olivia to meet new ones. It was a nice afternoon.

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Kris and Kaleo, Di, Zig, Joy, Nel

Kris and Kaleo, Di, Zig, Joy, Nel

Chase

Chase

~~~

One of the party attendees was Lisa's sister Crystal Dzigas, who is recently retired from professional surfing. Crystal is having a baby boy in a couple months! Congratulations, Crystal!

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There are boards everywhere in the house, and she mentioned she is still surfing. Here, at seven months pregnant, she is longboarding once a week in Waikiki. "You're not supposed to pick up heavy things!" I chided.

"I worry that someone might bang into her!" added her mother.

"Aren't you afraid?" I asked.

"Naw... people don't drop in on me anymore," she said. I love that line.

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In her decade and a half of surfing, has she ever seen a very pregnant woman - like her- surf? "No. And I know I get a LOT of looks when I go out. It's probably a strange sight," she admits. She knee paddles out.

On the bright side, I give her credit for working out regularly. It makes a big difference. She looks fantastic, and she says she feels great.

The baby's father is a pro surfer from Australia. I bet this kid has a bright future in the waves!

---

Here's a little video I put together from the party!

[youtube WRoU2uW6c6U]

***

Also reach me via DianeAko.com

The casket man

By
July 16th, 2010



Affordable Casket & Moanalua Mortuary just celebrated its 11th anniversary, which means I've known Claus just about that long. We met the same month he opened his casket store in the Nimitz strip mall, when I did a story poking fun at the placement of a casket retail store next to a sex toys shop.

Affordable Casket outlet

The store has since expanded into a full service mortuary, and it's no longer at that strip mall. However, I mark the date because it's, well, important to our own meeting.

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In honor of such, I'll dig up a story from our archives. We, as you might suspect, have a lot of funny stories. Pretty much any story with a protagonist who drives a hearse is going to be attention-getting. This one is about when we were first dating and he would come and visit me at my house.

He was still a one-man operation, having just started up the business, and still not breaking even. Doing it all meant he would not just balance the books and sell the caskets on the retail floor, but also deliver them to the customer's mortuary of choice.

To save time, sometimes he would just take the casket home with him. In his hearse. Sometimes, he would make a visit to my house first.

That story that we met on. Me in the hearse.

That story that we met on. Me in the hearse.

The first time he came over, I told him to pull the hearse into my garage. It was too long. He was reversing it out gingerly, and he blocked the street so some other cars had to wait. It caused me mild embarassment because in the tightly packed neighborhoods of Oahu, the neighbors see all.

Neighbors just getting home after work were coming out of their cars and looking at what the hell was going on at Diane's house. Evan was walking his dog and asked the question that I'm sure was on everyone's mind: "Is everything OK?"

My smart-ass housemate, Paul, had just come out and was laughing his head off at the weird scene. To Evan's question, Paul rubbed his hands together and replied in his best Adams family voice, "Ooh! Our experiment is here! Heh heh heh!"

***

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Tai-bow

By
July 14th, 2010



I was in Tai's room using his computer. Mine's been in the shop for several weeks now for a broken part. Anyhow, I knew Tai's door was a little off track, so I asked Claus to come fix it.

He was facing the closet, and the door was open. "Tai has a bow?" commented Claus.

I did not respond. I thought this was a rhetorical question. Claus asked again.

When I realized he wanted me to say something, I said, without looking, "I guess."

"Why does he have a bow?" continued Claus.

"I dunno," I answered, not really into this conversation. I mean, so what? Tai is a news photographer. If you don't know, they're generally a laid back, casual sort. Shorts and slippers, not Dockers and covered up shoes. True to type, Tai doesn't even own a suit.

Yes, it's a bit surprising to know that any news photographer has a bow tie in his possession, much less a regular tie. But it's not like, SO out of the question.

"Do you know he has a bow?" queried Claus.

At this point, I'm getting annoyed that I can't focus on what I was doing on the computer. "No, but maybe he has a dinner function." I turned around to see what the heck he was blathering about.

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Claus was pointing to the top shelf, and an archery bow. "Oh, a BOW! A bow to kill things! That kind of bow!" I laughed. "Mmm. Maybe. I vaguely remember him talking about owning a bow once before.

"Does he use it?" wondered Claus.

"I don't know. I do know he has a license to shoot rifles," I volunteered. At this bit of information, Claus seemed truly taken aback. I would be too, actually - I don't want one with a little kid around.

"Is there a rifle in this house?" he asked.

"No. He doesn't own one yet. Just the license."

Tai partly grew up on Kauai. "Is this for hunting?" asked Claus.

"I have no idea," I said. "But he was always the one at work who we thought could snap, and then we'd all be saying, 'I never saw it coming. He was just so quiet.'"

I'm serious. One day someone passed behind him as he was doing internet research on rifles, and then there were little jokey rumblings mixed with slight fear.

By the time I caught wind of the gossip, I just laughed, because I know him better. Then I counseled him to use it to his advantage. "You can get out of the crappy shoots," I joked.

The next day, Tai happened to be holding the bow in his hand as he walked out the door. You know, because it's so common to walk around Honolulu with a 66 inch recurve bow. I do it all the time.

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I stopped him to tell him the aforementioned story. We laughed.

He explained that his stepdad hunts, and so Tai's been doing this since high school. It all makes sense.

But wait! There's more!

"Did you see my compound bow?" he asked with pride, then returned to his room to show me.

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He retrieved a bag, also on the top shelf, and unzipped it. Inside, there was a camoflauge colored bow, with arrows and target practice sheets.

"Holy cow! This is so badass! Seriously? I have weapons of death in my house?" I exclaimed.

"Aaw. It's just hunting equipment. It's the same as fishing," he shrugged.

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"Except you can kill large mammals," I reminded. "Or... you could dress like Legolas from Lord of the Rings and score all the girls at Halloween. He's such a hot elf."

He regarded me with a look of humor, disbelief, and embarrassment - a look I get from him a lot - and headed out the door.

I'm still going to get him a blonde wig. Just in case.

***
Also reach me via DianeAko.com

Cake tips

By
July 12th, 2010



The thick, smooth swirl of frosting atop cupcakes pleases me. I started to decorate some cupcakes like that for a party, but as I was thumbing through my box of dozens of frosting tips, I did not see what I needed.

Star tip, large enough. Round tip, too small.

Star tip, large enough. Round tip, too small.

The correct tool is a large, round tip. I own about six round tips, but none are large enough to make a good cupcake swirl.

"Ugh! I need a bigger tip. My tips are all too small," I complained to whoever was near me, which happened to be about five people, including Claus and my mom.

"What's wrong?" asked Claus.

I repeated myself, gesturing to the tips in the box. He laughed, "I think you have great tips."

"Seriously! They're all too small. What should I use now?" I replied, half to myself, as I looked for a large enough star tip. "I have to remember to buy bigger tips."

My disorganized tips

My disorganized tips

My mom heard - only apparently half of - this. "What?" she said.

"My tips are too small. I need bigger ones."

She seemed a little concerned. "Can you afford it?" she asked.

That question struck me as odd, but I was preoccupied, so I didn't realize what she was thinking till much, much later. At the time, just looked at her curiously and said, "Yeah."

I remember thinking, I know she can be frugal, but REALLY?

My mother was highly affected by the Great Depression. She worries that I don't have a job. She worries about me relying only on Claus' income, what with a young child and the high cost of ... well, life.

I don't earn any money at the moment, but I think I can afford a $2 cake tip.

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The day I bought the tips (I splurged on a large round and a grass tip) I was standing in line and looking at the price tags: $2.50 and $1.95. Why would Mom trip about this?, I thought to myself. And then, then, I realized what she thought I was buying.

Later that week, I picked Joy up for cake class. I related the story to her. She nodded. "Your mom thought you wanted a new rack!"

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***

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