Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Warmer Climate...PLEASE...*sob*

This blogs a short one but I know you will feel my pain. Just spent an awesome weekend in Las Vegas. Weather was warm, casinos were a sad spectacle of human boredom, security was eyeballing me wondering if they could take me (they can't by the way), and the food was... meh. Who goes to Vegas without going to a buffet anyway?

I had lots of fun. Sang some good music, hung out with friends, even watched a minor league hockey game and saw a fight!!! The weekend temps there were in the low to mid 50's the whole time, but, alas, it was time to return home to the frozen tundra which is SLC. We were sitting at Jack In The Box getting ready to hit the road and out of curiosity, I jumped on my good buddy's iphone to check the weather...

Salt Lake City Las Vegas

...Salt Lake City will have a low of ONE DEGREE on Christmas Eve! Whose idea was that? Could be worse... Could be in... Who am I kidding? I wish we had sun!!!

Thursday, December 17, 2009

The Hook-Up Magnet!!!

Long ago God paired up everything into twos and sent them on a cruise. Thousands of years later most of my friends have taken on the responsibility to do the same for me. I don't know if it is because of the Christmas season and the thought of me being single gets the hook-up mojo going in my "homegirlz," or that I am oblivious to everything and girls are throwing themselves at me. Probably not the latter...

People are constantly trying to fix me up with girls from work, church, their relatives, and so forth. My neighbor has been trying to persuade me to go out with this girl at the post office for about a year. It's to the point where the mother of the girl is bugging my neighbor to just bring me to the house to take her out. The only thing that I really know about this girl is that she is very tall, somewhere along the lines of 6'2" . I am 6'6" ( depending on what shoes I have on) so the height is not really a problem. My brother made the comment that we could breed "super athletes". So the question is how do I get from here to having superhero children? I am really uncomfortable around new people and never know what to say. So I try to get to know a girl before I go out with her.

A friend of mine from California hit me up on Facebook the other day. She was raving about a girl she met at a dance in Huntington Beach and how we would be perfect for each other. I was then firmly instructed to call her promptly or she would revoke my "man card". I can imagine how I would sound during the phone conversation with the mystery girl:


"Hi I'm Jr."

... Long awkward silence...

"Okay. It was nice talking to you..."

I'm not much of a phone conversation guy (ask my friends), but I will party 'till the crack of 9:30 PM because that's how I roll. I must have a big target on my forehead with flashing lights that says "Single. Please fix me up!" But, keep trying folks, I'll find a winner in there sooner or later. Hopefully sooner...

Thanks for the Vent Session...

Friday, November 13, 2009

Hole In My Soul...

So I went out with a girl the other night to see Paranormal Activity. I had seen it the week before and thought it was kind of weak. The girl I went with has a big problem with scary movies and made me enter into a verbal "contract of conduct" before she would even consider seeing the movie. I was not to make any noises or sudden moves that would intensify the scary scenes. I was not to mention that was once ghostly activity within her house (another blog for another time...) and I was NOT to make fun of her thereafter about the screams that would ensue. I agreed to the stipulations, but being the sensitive guy that I am gave her some chances to back out.

There is hardly any gore in the movie so she figured it wouldn't be too bad but she was also vary aware of the actions of people around us. There was a group of women behind us who got up and left 15 minutes into the movie... she considered leaving. The first loud noise... she considered leaving. Ouija Board scene... she considered leaving. Most of the movie was spent with her cutting off the circulation in my arm because of her death grip, meanwhile, I am dosing off during the movie. Probably would have fallen asleep if it wasn't for a certain someone trembling next to me. Don't get me wrong, this girl is one of the toughest women I know, but this movie rocked her to the core. She actually went so far as to scream during the movie. And of course I did give her ample opportunity to get out of going before hand.

She was soooooo mad at me about "MAKING" her see Paranormal Activity. She even went as far as accusing me of having no soul. No soul? Ouch right? I said to myself, "Self, you have as much soul as James Brown," but still felt bad about her reaction. Wanting to make her at ease about how much the movie disturbed her I took her out to eat. She did later admit, in between bites of an Apple Bees Blondie, that I must have been an evil genius to be able to manipulate her so masterfully. First of all, it does say in my profile that I'm an genius of the evil kind and secondly, I'm not saying that I manipulated her, but a persons actions can be predicted... if you know what buttons to push.

She had also purchased a brand new bed during the day and I almost ruined the first night in the new bed for her. So I stayed over until 3am to make sure that she was soothed. But hey, at least I got her to sit in my lap during the movie...

Thanks For the Vent Session...

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Why am I awake?

So I have to start work at 6:30 am, but why did my body decides to wake up at 1:15 am? I hate the fact that I am awake right now at 3:53 am... so I decided to complain about it on the Inter-web. I think part of the reason I am awake is because I had a dream about layoffs. My job lost 50 guys yesterday and I wasn't among the lucky few, or unlucky depending on how you view waking up at the crack of dawn. So now I must wave goodbye to any chance of weekends off for the next little while, but at least they pay me overtime for it.

I still feel bad for the guys who were let go. I overheard management say it was trimming the fat, but it seems needlessly cruel to refer to somebody as unwanted weight (man... I'm hungry). Me and my partner at work are on loan to another company to help out with their equipment testing so that makes us immune to the layoff axe, but sooner or later some company suck up is gonna take my place. It might be survivors guilt that keeps me up at night, but it could also be because I fell asleep at 6:30 pm the night before and didn't eat dinner... I am gonna make a chicken pita.

Thanks for the mini Vent Session... by the way... clowns... scary...

Monday, September 28, 2009

Show em your GRRRRR face...

I went out to eat with some friends a few days ago. Being Polynesians, we naturally start making fun of each other. One of the girls started to tell a story about me and made a growling sound as she pretended to lift some heavy object in the story. We all laughed, but that got the ol' wheels turning... do I make that sound unconsciously? I started to travel back into my memory and realized that other people make the growl when they describe me lifting things also. I hope that I'm not walking around all day making the sounds of distant thunder to innocent bystanders. The last thing I need is an old lady keeling over because she thought a bear mauling was eminent. I'm already big and scary looking. I don't need people to think that I am a wild animal in heat too. It makes me wonder what other things I do subconsciously as well...

Do I do the things that drive me crazy? Do I slurp my noodles, or chew with my mouth open? Do I say things like supposibly instead of supposedly? Do I constantly raise my eyebrows when I speak to people like Shaq does or pronounce the word cross with a "T" at the end? These are just a few things on a long list of things that I might do.

Now I feel self-conscious about the things I do. I bite my lip when I pick up salt shakers, pencils, the morning paper, and the car keys. Sure you would expect some kind of audible vocalization when lifting heavy things, but why take the chance. There is another side of me that wants to embrace the snarl, a more primal and wild side of my brain. In this spirit, I would like to try other bestial articulations. Maybe a howl as my boss greets me in the morning, or a gruff bark to the neighbors. I'm even willing to try a ...meow. Maybe not.

Thanks for the Vent Session...

Wednesday, September 2, 2009


Ever do anything that you really don't want to do, but do it anyway. I have a fear of heights but not of flying... go figure and I spent the majority of the day 40 feet up in the air on a scissor lift. If you've never been in one, count yourself among the blessed. These dang contraptions are unstable in the best of conditions. A stiff breeze will send it plummeting faster than Vanilla Ice's career or like that poor baby in the lullaby rock-a-bye-baby (this song may also be a contributor to my fear of heights).

Anyway, I was working on the lift, trying not to throw up all over the deck every time it swayed, when one of my co-workers thought it would be funny to smack the bottom of my lift with a ten foot stick of pipe. I feel the banging race through my body and the subsequent shakes and sways of the lift and I figure that the lift is malfunctioning, so I brace myself for eminent death. As I watched my life flash before my eyes (wondering whether I should have had a better last meal, of all things) I hear the cackling of my co-worker... the rage that bubbled to the surface would have made the Devil himself quake in fear. I lower my lift, all the while cursing his name, jumped over the railing, and grab him by his shirt collar. Powered by my anger, I lift him about a foot off the ground, with my left arm, and threaten to break off his arms and beat him to death while shaking my fist under his nose. Then I unceremoniously drop him to the floor and stomp off before I carry out my threats.

Usually, I am a very calm guy and keep in mind this guy is about 60 years old, but I couldn't care less if he saw 61 at the time. I feel that I "may" have acted a little rashly, but my life did indeed flash before my eyes after all. Looking back, I think I may have given him a mild heart attack. What did I learn from all this? I need to live a more interesting life so I can have something good to watch at the end.

Thanks for the Vent Session...

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Working with Beyoncé...

I know it's been awhile, so I would like to apologize to the two people who look at my blog. Sorry. Now that thing is out of the way, I'd like to tell you about my day...

Last week, I purchased a brand new phone. It's nice being able to keep in contact with friends and loved ones. It is an electric blue and has an awesome mp3 player that doesn't need headphones to play songs, but the best part is that it holds like 200 songs. So I went to my iTunes and loaded the sucker up with some good stuff to listen to while I stand around at work pretending to be busy. It's really cool because it's like having a soundtrack.

As both of you may know, I work construction. Construction guys are a fairly rough and manly bunch. The guys that I work with are former military men, bar brawlers, and are forbidden to return to various foreign countries (more on that in another blog), so when I say rough, I mean "the kind of people that can make Clint Eastwood cry ," rough. And then there is me.

I listen to a wide variety of music and I happened to remember I had a phone and brought it in with me. I'm just minding my own business, listening to a Dragonforce number called Through the Fire and Flames, bobbing my head and pretending to inspect the electrical conduit in the ceiling, when my buddy comes up (one of the ones forbidden to go to certain countries) and starts to groove out with me.

So we are both standing there bobbing our heads like stunt doubles in the movie The Night at the Roxbury. He's digging the speed metal and rap just as much as me when our boss shows up. Johnny Cash is up next with A Boy Named Sue. The Boss digs that so he sticks around to have a listen. So then there are three of us grooving to the tiny speaker on my cell phone. This makes the rest of the crew curious as to what we're doing. In short order, we have eleven guys bobbing their heads in time pretending to inspect pipe in the ceiling. This goes on for about ten minutes and by then three songs have gone by.

I put 200 songs on my phone and it was set on random. I had no idea what songs I had on there, let alone what would come up next. So when Beyoncé showed up with Halo, nobody really reacted right away. They were too caught up groovin' to the beat, but then one by one they started to take notice. Within the space of two seconds, I went from being the cool guy with speed metal blasting from his shirt pocket, to the guy who had just sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. That's what you would think by the way they were looking at me. I had never seen so many guys take off so fast since the Olympics. I was shunned the rest of the day... or I may have hidden in shame.

I'm not saying Beyoncé sucks. She is über talented and I still love her music (even though she made me look like a fool in front of my co-workers). I am just saying that there are appropriate times to listen to certain kinds of music. What is the moral of this story? Let's just say... playlists are now my friends.

Thanks for the Vent Session.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

What things sound like on the floor...

I was lying on the floor of my friends bedroom the other day because it was cooler than the living room, which felt like 100 degrees and a few people decided to join me. While I was on the floor, a buddy of mine was lying on the bed with a girl and they began to singing kids songs. I was content to lie there and dose off when the owner of said bedroom came in and started talking to the other two. They begin to muse about the music they were singing, and the girls, who are dear friends, have began a rather "spirited chat" about which one has done the other more bodily harm over the years. The whole time I am lying on the floor chuckling to myself. Then buddy of mine decides to bust out with the foot massages which are received with great enthusiasm. It was all perfectly innocent stuff, but those moans... sounded SO dirty.

The kids songs chick insists that she doesn't want a foot rub and begins a rant about how awkward it would be to have someone touch her feet. Meanwhile, "bedroom owner" is praising the inventor of the foot massage and making a weird kind of meowing sound. Kids songs girl starts to get jealous and requests a rub of her own, but "bedroom owner" isn't having any of it. They argue about fair play and start to list injuries incurred from each other. Alas, their argument goes beyond words and they get into a little physical altercation. "Kids songs" tries to put up a fight, but gets soundly trounced. Being the kindhearted girl she is, "bedroom owner" feels bad and relents. Friends again, "kids songs" happily starts her foot rub. The sounds she makes are dirtier than "bedroom owners". I, feeling forgotten, slightly voyeuristic, and a fifth wheel all rolled into one, pop up from the floor, like a giant daisy, and declare that these foot massages sound like people in mid copulation and that I will write a blog about it.

Keep in mind that I don't have the best of memories. Some of what I have written might be imagined or fantasized , but I'm pretty sure that everything I've written is accurate. What's the moral you ask? Heck if I know, I just thought it was an interesting story. If you are craving a moral lesson, maybe this will satisfy:

"When doing things that sound dirty, make sure you don't have anyone lying on your bedroom floor who has an active imagination and a blog.


Thanks for the Vent Session...

Saturday, July 18, 2009

No Phone Blues...

It's kind of weird to not be in touch with anyone. I've been without a phone for about a week and a half. I lost it some place, but have no idea where it could be. I imagine lots of folks have been trying to contact me (because I'm soooo popular) and are ticked off. I know that I should just break down and get a new one, but I've played this game before. I will call in to the phone place, get the machine, wait for 30 minutes to talk to someone who isn't in India, explain what happened to my phone (by now I've concocted an epic struggle between good and evil, where good triumphs, but my cell phone is the unfortunate casualty) and give my credit card number to an operator who is waiting for her sift to end so she can go to a rave with her eighteen year old co-workers. As soon as I hang up on my brothers phone, I will see my long lost little "celly" sitting on the counter behind the fruit bowl. I swear the bloody contraption has a mind of it's own and hates me.

Honestly, it's been nice to be unreachable. I go home from work without any worries and just relax. No calls from bill collectors, survey givers, parents bugging me about getting married, but it also is a downer to have no friends call either. So, I think I will call in to get another infernal machine... how I hate that device. At least you can call me and complain about my blog...

Thanks for the vent session...

Monday, July 13, 2009

Handle with Care

Today I had to go into the company shop because I'm switching job sites tomorrow. I filled out all the usual paperwork but was required to do a drug test. Feeling no urges to relieve myself, I stopped at a nearby petrol station to buy an orange Gatorade before going to the testing facility. These drug testing places are filled with people who are new hires at various jobs and people who do stupid things and need to test to keep their jobs. You can always tell who is who. By the time I turn in my paperwork, the urges was pretty strong. When they call my name, I am dancing in my seat. Needless to say, I enthusiastically finish my test. The whole time, there is a dude standing outside the door. The same guy has to test my sample.

Now, I don't know about you, but pee tester was never a job I considered. Does one wake up one day and say to himself, "Yes!!! Pee tester!!! It's all so simple," or is it something you fall into like pro wrestling? The craziest thing is these medical techs went to school to be able to examine pee, but let us not forget the doctors who have to oversee the pee testers. All those years in med school and the money to pay for that fine education to look at pee. What is the protocol if the sample is a weird colour? Do you comment on it, or is it bad form to do so? What if you forget for a second that you handled a sample and scratch your face? Is that a visit to the doctor or is a handy wipe fine? You know how the Bath and Bodyworks folks smell like their job... you get what I'm saying. Hopefully, they don't take their work home with them.

Thanks for the vent session...

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Karaoke Woes...

My family came in this weekend to see my new nephew. It is always a treat to see them. My parents came in and grilled me about my love life, as usual, and we made fun of my other family members mispronouncing words, or "fobbing out" as we call it in the islander community. We threw a party and had tons of food. Some of my teenage cousins start getting bored so I decide to put on a game called Lips on my xbox... a karaoke game.

Don't get me wrong, it is an awesome game. The best part is making fun of yourselves and others who get up and sing. Within the game, there are dance moves that you can perform to get extra points. Some of these moves are really hard too. One move I got was something cheer leaders at my ol' Alma Matter called "the Russian". If you have no idea what I'm gabbing about, it's a jumping move where you have to kind of do the splits in the air, touch your toes, and land gracefully on the ground. I have a bad knee, am 6'6" and 330ish lbs. You can foresee the problem right? I was so into the game, that I leaped into the air like some kind of possessed acrobat. Surprisingly, I pulled it off with just a slight twinge for my efforts. I was feeling pretty good about myself, until I found out that my older brother was video taping the whole debacle. For those of you who aren't sure what debacle means:


\-ˈ-kəl, di-, -ˈba-; ÷ˈde-bə-kəl\
also ··cle \also -ˈbäk(lə)\
French débâcle, from débâcler to clear, from Middle French desbacler, from des- de- + bacler to block, perhaps from Vulgar Latin *bacculare, from Latin baculum staff
1: a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river
: a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout
3 a
: a great disaster b: a complete failure : fiasco.

In case you haven't guessed, we're talking definition #3. The only thing worse than knowing that you were belting out off key notes at the top of your lungs while fancying yourself a Dallas Cowgirl, is watching the instant replay. I threatened my brother with bodily harm, but to no avail. He ran into the bathroom cackling like a witch from a Disney Cartoon. Now I fear that the record of my woes may be on youtube. Que sura sura... I've gotta remember to be meaner to my older brother.

Thanks For the Vent Session...

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Terms of Endearment...

I was listening to an Ingrid Michaelson song and one of the lines says, "I love the way you call me Baby" (I'm totally not gay by the way). That started me on a strange line of thought. Who was the first guy to call his girlfriend baby? Was she insulted? Another one I wonder about is Pumpkin. Was he referring to the shape of her body or the colour of her skin? Perhaps her head was oddly shaped. A more recent one I have never used is "My Boo". I imagine that this term comes from the mispronunciation of the french word "beau"(pronounced \ˈ\ ). Some ghetto dude tried to use it and said it wrong and it stuck. I think the best one is what the late Michael Jackson came up with for his third son, who he named after his second son for some reason, which is "Blanket". What does that even imply? That he was some sort of wet blanket? Did he put a damper on the craziness that was Michael Jackson?

If these terms of endearment can be out there, then I propose we come up with some new ones. Instead of love muffin, how about syrupy pancakes? Sweet heart can be changed to savory liver. Why not call the one you love "plywood"? No matter what you call the "cream in your coffee," or the "apple of your eye," make sure you really do mean to endear because if you call your significant other "baby" in the wrong tone of voice, you will catch a shoe in the face. Don't say that I didn't warn you.

Thanks for the vent session...

Guitar Songs

I've been wanting to learn some new songs any suggestions?

I Know You're Out There...

My parents are coming up next week and I am excited to see them, but the inevitable question will come. They will walk in the door, say hello to the grand kids and turn to me and say "When are you gonna get married?" It's an odd question to fear because I do want to get married someday, but I've been hassled about marriage since I was 21. Honestly, I think the real question my parents want to ask is "When are we gonna have grand kids from you?"

I am swiftly approaching 30 and it seems like the longer I wait to marry, the more people are interested in my love life... so I'm going to give you the lowdown right now on what my problem is. Lately, it seems like I've been attracting a whole lot of insane girls. Don't get me wrong, these are some beautiful women, but they are slightly off kilter. I don't know if it's a chemical thing or maybe I give of a pheromone that attracts the mentally unsound. A while back, I wrote about a girl who was interested in me and had her mom tell off my brother, at church, because I wasn't going out with her. I don't know about you, but that kind of thing tell me that I should be on the first bus out of town before I get stabbed in my bed. I can imagine her standing over me while I sleep, mouth breathing heavily and just staring, not blinking for eight hours (gives me the willies just typing it). If you are reading this and you have done these kinds of things, please consider me inapproachable or unattainable. I can't afford this kind of crazy in my life. Life is hard enough as it is.

Another type of girl that I've been attracting is the so-called "airhead". I was talking to some girls yesterday about this, and they were of the opinion that all guys are attracted to raw beauty only. First off, generalizations make me sad. Secondly, attraction to raw beauty may be true to some extent, but what good is having a mate that you have to dumb things down for? Most of my friends are witty and quick. If you are not, you quickly become a bulls-eye. I don't want to put any date in that kind of situation (sorry Paris Hilton. Not meant to be...).

Dream Girl, I know you're out there. Make yourself known.

Thanks for the vent session...

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Guy Code: bathroom etiquette...

As promised in the previous post, I am going to talk a little about the Guy Code starting with bathroom etiquette. This stems from conversations I've had with women about the phenomenon of going to the bathroom in groups. From what I've been told, women go to the bathroom together to continue conversing about whatever subject the were discussing previous to the restroom incursion. Let me tell you now that guys do NOT do this.

If you ever go to a stadium or any other venue with lots of patrons, you may notice that there is usually a long line in the Women's Room, but not the Men's Room. This is because the Men's Room is about efficiency. It is always expected that men will enter, use the facilities, wash and leave.

In the United States, when guys are on the way to a restroom, they could be talking about something that could concern the fate of the world, but once they cross the threshold of the restroom, generally ALL conversation ceases and usually does not resume until out of the restroom area. That means no talking to friends, lovers, or Jesus the Lord and Savior himself. Do Not make any unnecessary noise in a restroom because this may be taken as an attempt to communicate, but the occasional cough is okay.

Eye contact is strictly avoided by all parties. Do Not let your eyes wonder. A wondering eye may be interpreted as a sexual advance and is a good way to get your butt kicked. Also, when at a urinal, always stare strait ahead.

Most bathrooms will have multiple urinals... Always use the one furthest away from another man. If none are occupied, use the one closest to the door. If two are used, have at least one slot distance between you and the closest men. Avoid standing next to another man at a urinal at all costs. This may be interpreted as a sexual advance and may result in a subsequent face smashing.

Heaven forbid that you brush against another man below the waist. But if this happens, it is generally understood that is an accident and NEVER discussed. No apologies are offered and the the incident is not acknowledged in any way, shape or form.

Hopefully this will help you guys from other countries avoid a beat down in the ally behind the movie theater, and give you ladies a guideline to eliminate those long lines at the restroom. Ask any guy about these rules and he will tell you that this is what generally happens in your typical Men's Room.

Thanks for the vent session...


I just came home from watching a "scary" movie with a bunch of guys and one girl. It had a good number of bumps and jumps, but ended weakly. The kicker was that the guys I saw the movie with screamed more than the girl. I wasn't exactly sure who was screaming at first because of the impressive high notes being belted out. I would hear a high pitched, blood curdling scream and then nothing, but as the movie progressed, the screams were accompanied by curses in low manly voices. If it wasn't for the fact that we were alone in the theater, I would have died of embarrassment. Not because of the screams, but because these screams were emanating from men, one who was once a Division 1 college athlete. (Those of you who know whom I am speaking of, please don't tell him I said anything, I just need to vent.)

Because I am a guy through and through, I would like to give my opinion on screaming. According to the Guy Code Sec 100.14 (A)(3) , there are only a few instances when it is acceptable to scream in the presence of a female-type woman:

1) if you have been shot in the belly
2) a battle cry
3) if you stub your toe or bang your shin

That is pretty much it. To hear another guy scream in front of a girl is like watching him get kicked in the nether region. You feel bad for the guy when it happens, but you will always make fun of him for it. For you ladies out there, if you have a special someone who screams in a scary movie, you have a few options. Ignore the incident and pretend it never happened (which I recommend) or bring it up at inopportune times as leverage to get what you want (which most girls I know will do, and it is a low blow.) So please take the high road and we will always love you for it. I will post more on the guy code later.

Thanks for the vent session...

Monday, June 22, 2009

Where are my glasses...

I swear that my house is haunted. When I go to sleep, I always put my glasses on my window sill so i know where they are. But when I wake up, they are always in a different place. This morning I found my glasses in a kitchen cabinet with the toaster. Who else would leave glasses next to a toaster but an angry poltergeist? At night, it sounds like people are running back and forth above me. I am the only one who hears the sounds. Is it time for the Ghostbusters? I seem to have misplaced their number. My parents grew up in Samoa and they have told me some crazy ghost stories from there.

Many years ago, there was a young woman who lived in a small hut along the beach near my fathers village. She was young and had no other family, save a small newborn child. She loved this child deeply, but as sometimes happens, tragedy struck. A large wave struck the shores of her island and swept her and the child out to sea. She survived, but the child was lost. In the grips of grief and despair, she ended her own life with poison. From that day forward, her spirit roams the shore searching for her lost child. My father said that you can hear her mournful cries at night and sometimes see her standing on the sand gazing at the sea waiting...

When I was a about nine years old we use to live with my grandparents because we had just moved from New Zealand. In my grandparents room, was a dresser with a large mirror. Every night, my grandmother would cover the mirror with a sheet. After the awhile, I became curious and asked my grandmother why she did this. She told me this story...

There was an old story that a witch use to live near her village. The witch was horribly disfigured in a fire. When she eventually died, her image began to appear in mirrors when girls would comb out their hair at night in front of mirrors. The witch would be jealous and would scratch the girls face or slap her. When my grandmother was a young girl, she had a mirror in her room. The rest of her family was asleep and she was getting ready for bed. She didn't believe in the old story and was combing her hair out. She turned around to put her comb away, when she looked up in the mirror, in front of her own reflection was a horribly disfigured woman staring at her. She froze, unable to move or speak. My grandmother said that the woman had a dead white eye and her face was melted and pale. They stared at each other for, what seemed to her for hours, but was only a few minutes. My grandmother fainted. When she woke up, she was laying in front of the mirror, but she had scratches on her face and a faint red hand mark on her cheek.

I have one more that my uncle told me, but I don't know if it's true or not...

When he was a teenager, he would sometimes see a pair of beautiful girls standing by the side of the road near the mountains where he would pick breadfruit. The road had trees on both sides and grew over the road in such a way, that it was like driving through a tunnel. The road itself was always dark in the afternoon because of the trees. The girls were resembled each other so closely, that he knew that they were sisters. My uncle said that he and his friends were always trying to pick up girls that they thought were pretty, but would never stop for these sisters. When I asked why, he said that they were vengeful spirits that would hurt or kill any man that would stop. He explained that years before he first saw them, that twin girls were raped and murdered in the forest near the road, but the killer was never found. Outraged, at the injustice and unfairness of their deaths, the sisters would cause car crashes, injure, and sometimes kill people foolish enough to stop and try to speak with them.

Growing up, my family would tell me these kinds of stories. It's no wonder I think that my house is haunted, but I probably have an overactive squirrel in the house...

Thanks for the vent session...

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Run Away...

Feeling tired of your life? The daily grind getting you down? Need a change? Well, run away and join the Circus! Imagine leaving behind bills, baby mama drama (or baby daddy), worries, stress and entertaining the masses. Only thing that stops me is... Talent. I can do many amazing things that keep me entertained, but nothing that any self respecting circus attendee would want to see. I think that I could have a chance as a clown, but I'm not funny... even if ,theoretically, I did enjoy wearing make-up. Wouldn't it be great though?

Then, I started to think about it. Practicing all the time. I imagine that you need to be good at whatever you're going to do to make money, and to actually perform in front of people would be terrifying to me. I hate public speaking, so imagine flying through the air with no net and your head on fire. Finally, I'm not much for the whole Carnie living conditions. Traveling places in an actual mobile trailer park. Maybe I could be the ticket taker, popcorn seller, or elephant teeth brushing guy.

Nah. If I was going to run away and do something, maybe the French Foreign Legion would be better than the Circus. At least I could surrender if war broke out.

Thanks for the vent session...

Friday, June 5, 2009

Fever Dreams or Unglued?

I just wrote this and I don't really know what I was thinking, but this has been the state of mind I have been in for about a week. I want to warn you ahead of time that this is not the most coherent blog ever, but thought I would share anyway because hopefully you can relate:

About a week ago I took my semester finals. I would study for hours a day and lose hours of sleep a night worrying about testing. I would dream of formulas, fiber optics, chemical compositions and my career. The tests themselves were six hours long and grueling, but all that work paid off because I aced my finals. Most people I know would celebrate by partying. I decide to celebrate by catching the flu. Looking back, I think that I may have pushed myself too hard and got myself sick. Most of my fever dreams seemed like a series of random movie clips thrown together. For example, I dreamed that I was a meter maid feeding an endless road of parking meters with quarters from a bottomless shoe... while being chased by monsters. If I wasn't feverish, I would wonder about my sanity.

As I lay in bed, the world kept turning. People would text me to invite me to activities, would wonder why I missed events, and would worry if I was okay. It makes me wonder if my buddies thought I was being a jerk. At the time I didn't wonder about my own douche baggery (look it up in the urban dictionary). The only thing I noticed while I was sick was if my pillow was cool. Finally, I feel great, so I decide to go to choir practice. I sit down and one of my friends gives me "THE LOOK" and mouths the words "you are so fired." I told her that I was sick and we were okay after that. The look that she gave me afterward makes me think that I was being a jerk... or at least she thought I was.

In conclusion, higher education can make you sick and alienate you from your friends, but who cares as long as your pillow is cool... What do you want from me? I'm still a little sick.

Thanks for the vent session...

Friday, May 22, 2009

High Fivers...UNITE

Competition was a big part of my life growing up. Me, my brothers, and my cousins would engage in city league sports. It didn't really matter what sport, basketball, football, tennis, badminton. The intensity was always high and when we would score, it was the greatest feeling in the world. So, how would we celebrate these monumental athletic accomplishments? With the greatest expression of all time...the High Five. But what happened to my beloved expression of victory? When did it become uncool?

As far as I can tell, the High Five started to disappear around the mid 90's. Some would say because so many elaborate moves were added to the simple gesture, it became too complex and time consuming to perform and people began to express themselves in other ways. I believe the culprit of the demise to my beloved High Five was the fear of being "left hanging." For those of you who have never experienced being "left hanging," it can be a crushing blow to the social life of a 12-18 year old. People point and laugh, and you walk away dejected. I would implore you to shake off the fear of being "left hanging," and reclaim the High Five. In fact, use the High Five at inappropriate times. High Five a co-worker who slips on black ice, or when you use the facilities, or even when your boss yells at you for being late (the look of confusion is awesome). But really folks, is there really an inappropriate time to use the High Five.

In conclusion, the High Five is a comforting old friend. Don't give up on it because everyone else says he's not cool anymore. And don't forget the variations... Air Five, Jump Five, Low Five, The Top Gun (combo of the High Five followed by a Low Five), Slap Me Some Skin, The Group Five, and the High Ten followed by the chest bump!

Thanks for the vent session...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

BOOO... scary huh?

Fear is a funny thing. People go to see horror movies because they're exciting, but put them in a parallel universe with giant floating heads trying to eat them and it just becomes awkward. I have a fear of speaking in public, which is ironic because I've been told that I'm a good public speaker. To me, public speak feels akin to being punched in the gut before beforehand, and awaiting another blow during the time I speak. It could be anything from delivering one line during a program to a full blown presentation. Honestly, I'd rather fight floating heads in a parallel universe with a wet paper towel. The worst part is that it seems like every member of my family is a gifted orator. My brother has a degree in Law from the University of California at Berkeley and is an excellent public speaker. His wife, a psychology degree from UC Riverside, speaks in court as an expert witness weekly. My younger brother is a college student, and a former missionary, is also an excellent public speaker, and my teenage sister... well, let's just say she will talk anybodies ear off given the opportunity. I admire them, because they have no fear of speaking to the masses. You may be asking yourself, "if this guy hates speaking in public so much, why is he doing it?" The answer is... I have no idea. If I had to put it into a word, I would say obligation. Sometimes, I have no choice but to do it because no one else can or is willing.

Your fear may not be public speaking. It could be fear of failure, dogs, the dark, work (a real phobia by the way), porcelain dolls, with their soulless eyes, staring, always staring... or even heights (another one of mine). But what can you do when faced with your fear? Curl up into the fetal position and weep, or face it? I mean, sure it's hard to face your fears, but sometimes it will be easier to grab a hammer and smash those evil little dolls into millions of little bits so they won't take your soul to hell or wherever they came from... ummm... I may have some issues. Anyway, I guarantee that there will come a time that you will have no choice but to face your fears, be it obligation or fear of the guilt you would feel for not facing it that fuels you, but either way you will be stronger for it, and besides those dolls can't be that hard to replace.

Thanks for the vent session...

Funny Rhetorical Questions...

Just got an e-mail of some funny rhetorical questions that I thought I'd pass along:

  • If a cow laughed real hard, would milk come out her nose?

  • If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

  • What's another word for Thesaurus?

  • Who decided what order to put the alphabet in?

  • Why are cigarettes sold in gas stations when smoking is prohibited there?

  • Why are there locks on the doors to the convenience store that is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year?

  • Why do they call them apartments when they are all stuck together?

  • Why do you need a drivers license to buy liquor when you cannot drink and drive? And why do bars have parking lots?

  • Why does TEFLON stick to the frying pan, since nothing ever sticks to TEFLON?

  • Why is it so hard to remember how to spell MNEMONIC?

  • Why are there Interstate Highways in Hawaii?

  • Why are there flotation devices under plane seats, instead of parachutes?

  • Why do hot dogs come ten to a package and hot dog buns only eight?

  • Why do they put Braille dots on the keypad of the drive-up ATM?

  • If you keep trying to prove Murphy's Law, will something keep going wrong?

  • Why do flammable and inflammable mean the same thing?

  • Shouldn't there be a shorter word for monosyllabic ?

  • If 75% of all accidents happen within 5 miles of home, why not move 10 miles away?

  • Why doesn't onomatopoeia sound like what it is?

  • Does a fish get cramps after eating?

  • Why is it when two planes almost hit each other it is called a near miss ? Shouldn't it be called a near hit ?

  • Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

  • You know that little indestructible black box that is used on planes? Why can't they make the whole plane out of the same material?

  • Why isn't palindrome spelled the same way backwards?

  • If you see a heat wave, should you wave back?

  • Why does sour cream have a 'best if used-by' date? Does it turn sweet?

  • How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work in the mornings?

  • Why is it called TOOTHbrush when you brush all of your teeth?

  • Why do fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing?

  • If someone invented instant water, what would they mix it with?

  • Why is brassiere singular and panties plural?

  • Why is it that when you transport something by car, it's called a shipment, but when you transport something by ship, it's called cargo?

  • Why isn't "phonetic" spelled the way it sounds?

Now all I need are some rhetorical answers...

Sunday, May 17, 2009

You are the Donny to my Marie, I am the Ham to your Burger...

Just getting home at 3 a.m. and was bored so I jumped on the ol' laptop to kill some waking minutes. As I was staring at the monitor, hoping to doze off, I came across a little quiz about who I would be compatible with. So I meandered through the questions, answering as best as a sleep deprived brain could, and this was my result.

"You are most compatible with AQUARIUS! I'm sure most of your friends are Aquarians! Together you're going to rock! They are nearly always intelligent, concise, clear and logical. Aquarius are often felt to be unfathomable when in reality they live almost entirely on the surface. Aquarians will not reveal their innermost feelings no matter how hard others may try to persuade them, simply because they are unable to do so. People of this sign have a reputation for being enigmatic, difficult to understand, and different from everyone else, and cleverly play on this to gain power and attention. They are extremely friendly yet detached at a personal level, sociable in large gatherings, but unsociable at smaller meetings and parties which require greater intimacy. They are helpful and compassionate when involved with charities or group activities."

I gotta say, this is pretty close to what my friends are. They may not all be Aquarians, but they are some of the smartest folks I know. I especially liked the "Together you're going to rock" part. Being a musician, I find that rocking together to be essential. You may wonder what sign I am. Well, the answer is not that simple. I was born on the 21st of May and some experts say that I am a Taurus, others say that I am a Gemini. Astrologically, I'm defined as a stubborn troublemaker. Just the kind of buddy everyone should have. So if you're my friend, never fear that you are dumb, for the stars have determined you to be a genius. Mostly because you are friends with me! Just kidding... or am I? Well, I'm off to Dreamland.

Thanks for the vent session...

Friday, May 15, 2009

Just thought I'd share...

Ever been kicked in the face during a fight? I have. It is a very surreal moment and strange thoughts start drifting to the surface. You wonder if that really just happened, then you wonder how he was able to kick you in the face. You ask yourself, does this guy know kung-fu? Did it look cool? You start to replay the moment in your mind, in slow motion, as if it were a sports highlight. The whole time analyzing how you could have avoided the size 12 footprint on your jaw. All these thoughts happened in the space of like 2 seconds. Then the pain kicks in. Don't really know what transpired next, but I did win the fight. Still, these questions will stay with me forever. I guess it's kind of like a personal moment of enlightenment. At least I still have my teeth.

Thanks for the vent session...

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Those poor tortured souls...

I went out to eat last night with four girls. Before you start handing out the high-fives and the nudges and winks, they are just good friends. As we perused the menus, we were engaged in typical small talk like global economic forecasts, electrical wiring methods, cartoons, speed of the postal service, and why my cellphone provider is selective about who receives text messages from me. While we were sitting there looking over photographs of mouthwatering entrees, the girl to my right (don't want to mention names because that's a good way to get slapped) said to me that she was hungry, but not just any kind of hungry... MAN HUNGRY. I must say... That is one of the coolest things I've ever heard any girl say to me. Being a man, I can appreciate that kind of hunger, but her dilemma was that she is going to be in a wedding as a bride's maid and she wanted to fit in her dress. I wanted to tell her to do what a guy would and just get a bigger dress, but I thought it would be better to keep my yap shut to avoid the punching of my face that would inevitably follow. This scenario started me thinking ( I know... Me ... Thinking?) why do women put themselves through so much torture to beautify? Maybe cosmetics are the war paint of dating.

Just in case you lovely ladies didn't know, I will walk you through how I get ready to go out.
1) Shower
2) Shave face, if more than two days of growth
3) Brush teeth, put on deodorant
4) Get dressed ... trying to match colours as best as I can
5) Brush hair (sometimes I don't even do this)
6) Out the door

This usually takes as little as ten to as much as 30 minutes, and I do this while watching a television show and eating a sandwich. I can't imagine the kind of precision it takes to shave ones legs while in a shower with soap on the floor, without cutting a major artery or suffering a concussion. Then to blow dry and style your hair in a damp environment, avoiding electrocution and, with a steady hand apply make-up, which may include the use of a sharp eye liner pencil, with out putting out an eye. It also must be equally frustrating to go through outfit after outfit to find the appropriate garb for your evening activities with shoes to match. To me, a typical human male, these kind of rituals mystify me to no end. Honestly, if I had to do these things every time I wanted to go out and have a good time, I would probably give up and watch TV.

But my question is "why?" What's so special about us guys. I believe that women deserve as much from us guys, but rarely receive it. I try to look good when I go out, but today, I just put on my work clothes, ran my fingers through my hair and made sure my socks were matching before I left. Maybe I should worry more about how I look, but I cannot imagine caring as much as women do. I don't know if there is a definite answer out there, and it may not be about us guys, but feel free to let me know what you think. So to you girls out there, I appreciate all you do so that guys, like me, can look upon you. I just want to leave you with what my Dad told me. "Women are precious and should be treated as such, because if you don't, there is a father out there ready to kick your face in..." and we don't want that... right?

Thanks for the vent session...

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

I wonder...what is cool?

Ever wonder if you're not as cool as you think you are? I use to think I was a pretty cool guy, but then I talk to my cousins and friends who are with what is "IN" these days, and I find that I'm a little out of touch with cool. Not too far off, but far enough that I find myself wondering. When I was just a wee lad, there was no question at all. I use to be that guy who knew all the trends. The music I listened to and clothes I once wore were "IT" in society, but now I see some fashions as weird and alien. I even caught myself saying, "why do these kids today listen to this stuff?" I actually said that while listening to the radio and almost crashed my car when I realized it. Don't get me wrong, I don't chalk it up to aging. I know there are guys my age and older who are still cool. Brad Pitt is like 40ish and he's still cool, right? Well, at least I know I'm cooler than some people.

I have an uncle who is pretty cool. He is about 50 and still has a body of a 20 year old athlete. He is cool by accident though. He has had the same hair style for so long, it went out of style twice!!! But, then again he married a girl who is a year younger than me. When I was a kid, I use to think that I was cooler than Steve Urkel (by the way, if you don't know who this is, you are too young to be wondering if you are still cool), but he got into his science gizmo and then he was way cooler than me. On the flip side, Michael Jackson use to be cooler than everyone...

I guess It's all in how you look at it. Rene Descartes said," I think, therefore I am", so I am going to apply this philosophy to myself by saying, I think I am cool, therefore I am... or at least I hope nobody calls me on it.

Thanks for the vent session

Monday, May 11, 2009

My Mama Always Said...

Sometimes I feel like a complete fool. Does that ever happen to you? Looking back on my experiences, I can totally see what I did wrong, but at the time I was oblivious. I spoke to my mother the other day and, as it always does, the conversation went to dating and getting married. My 29th birthday is in a few weeks and she doesn't want me to be that weird guy you see at the store buying soup for one. She gave me advise on dating and women in general. One thing that she told me, that never occurred in my mind, that girls wanted to be pursued. This statement surprised me because of my mothers personality.

She is a very "no nonsense" woman and I imagine that she was that way when she was a teenager as well. It always puzzled me that my father had gotten a first date with my mother, because my father is one of those class clown, goofy, anything for a laugh kind of guy. Not the kind of dude she would hang out with. They were both popular people, but their circles didn't mix. One day my dad had it in his mind that he was going to go out with this popular girl. My mother took an instant dislike to my father, but he was persistent. Actually it was borderline harassment, the way Mom tells it, but he finally wore her down enough to get a first date, and it was love. Almost 40 years later, she tells her only single son, that no girl wants to wait on a guy to call her.

I look back at the girls I have gone out with and the ones that I didn't, and I can see that maybe she is right. I can now clearly see all the signals that these girls would send out, but I would let it whiz by like Ray Charles playing baseball. Makes me want to kick myself to tell the truth, and I would if I were more limber, but I can't fix what has already happened. I must focus on the future, but what if I don't see these opportunities again? I am a shy person and the thought of pursuing a girl scares the crap out of me. I've never been the type to initiate any type of conversation, and I know I could NEVER do what my dad did, especially when I know for a fact that the girl doesn't like me. My dad would say that I need to "man up", but easier said than done. I guess I'm just afraid of receiving a can of pepper spray in the face. Well, let me know what you think world while I go look for a set of safety goggles.

Thanks for the vent session...

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Them are some mighty big words...

Weird things always seem to happen to me. I love my job, but I am a fairly quiet person when I work. I am also quite a large fellow, so I guess people look at my size, my occupation, my skin colour and my quietness, and assume that I am ignorant. Well, you know what happens when you assume right? This assumption does not bother me because I love to see the look on people's faces when I tell them that I am college educated or whip out a word that they don't understand. The love of "the look" as I call it started while I was very young.

When I moved to the United States from New Zealand, I lived in one of the most notoriously poor city's in California, Compton. Later, we moved to a city that was more upper-middle class. I assume that the faculty would look upon me, being the foreign kid from Compton,CA, and figure that I didn't know anything remotely of consequence. It probably didn't improve matters that I was a troublemaker as well. I hardly did my classwork and disrupted lessons as much as I could, but would ace tests. My second grade teacher, Ms. Swanson (that's right!!! I still remember you!) accused me of cheating. I had to retake a different test in the office with the vice principal watching. So, can you imagine the satisfaction I felt when Ms. Swanson found that I had aced her test again? I am definitely not the smartest guys you'll ever meet, but I'm no box of rocks either. I relive this moment every time I see "the look". I would like you to feel the same way so I found some words that you can whip out on the unsuspecting co-worker.

PNEUMONO­ULTRA­MICRO­SCOPIC­SILICO­VOLCANO­CONIOSIS (also spelled PNEUMONO­ULTRA­MICRO­SCOPIC­SILICO­VOLCANO­KONIOSIS) = a lung disease caused by breathing in particles of siliceous volcanic dust.
This is the longest word in any English dictionary.

ANTI­TRANSUB­STAN­TIA­TION­ALIST = one who doubts that consecrated bread and wine
actually change into the body and blood of Christ.
(for those obscure religious conversations you may have)

= Fear of work. Can be a persistent and debilitating disorder in some people, causing significant psychological disability and dysfunction. (good one to use to get a sick day)

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia = Fear of long words.

Euphemism = a pleasant or inoffensive expression used in place of an unpleasant or offensive one (one of my personal favorite words to use around the job site)

So get out there and impress a friend.

Thanks for the Vent Session

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Callers in the night...

The other day, I was giving a ukulele lesson to a couple of friends of the female persuasion, when the question of an appropriate time to return a call came up. One of these lovely ladies, received a few calls during the day from a guy that she was kind of "talking to" as the saying goes. Because of circumstances beyond her control, she was unable to return the calls to said guy immediately. It was getting pretty late in the evening when she finally had the opportunity to call the dude back. She looked up at the clock on the wall with a sort of pained look and asked the question, which all considerate young ladies would, "Do you think it's too late to call him back?"

Looking back on that day, I realize I don't know the definite answer to that question, but I am going to give you my opinion, because you can't stop me... If I had called a girl during the day more than once, and she didn't call back until 11:30 PM, I would totally pick up the phone and be grateful that she even thought to talk to me. I'm no player of women, or anything like that. I don't have hot girls kicking down my door, but I'd be happy if she called at all. I know what some of you "Ladies Men" are thinking, why take the time to answer, she'll call back because I am all that, the shiznit and so forth, but that is a good way to catch a swift kick in the bean bags (plz refer to my last blog and believe me, I promise to point and laugh ). It seems to me that any woman who wants to talk to a man is for any reason is worth the attention. There is a flip side to the argument though. I had this crazy girl who would call me at all hours. It was cool at first because I didn't know she was off her rocker, but 25+ calls a day started to freak me out a bit, so being the cowardly dude I was, I tried to avoid her calls... she had her mom give my brother a stern talking to at church about me.

So you ladies out there, if you wanna call a guy late at night, I say go for it. A guy who really wants to hear from you will pick up, unless he's a really heavy sleeper. If he doesn't pick up, don't freak out and have your mom yell at his brother at church. It won't be good for anyone involved. For you guys out there, if you are a heavy sleeper, and you see on your "missed calls" menu that a girl has called you late at night, be sure to wear a cup...

Thanks for the Vent Session

Thursday, April 30, 2009


I, like many others, have laughed at a guy getting hit in the junk. Most times, the only place one sees this action is on the ol' Boob Tube, and it IS funny, to me anyway. Being a male of the magnificent human race, one can't help but feel deep sympathy for another male when this happens to him, but at the same time it is hilarious. As you flip through the channels (especially on Satellite TV) you will run into at least one of these shows a week... It's a guilty pleasure. Even on YouTube and other sites that are similar, you cannot throw a rock without hitting one of these clips, which means it's a guilty pleasure for others as well. The few women I've spoken to about this subject seem to feel these shows are distasteful, humorless, and vulgar. But I know in their heart-of-hearts they can think of some man whom they think deserve a crushing blow to the family jewels. Well if you think it's funny on TV, just wait until you see a live show!

I had the rare opportunity to see such an accidental feat today at work. Some poor "John Q. Everyman" was walking along minding his own business. I'm sure he was thinking of some important task, or perhaps pondering the meaning of life. Needless to say, he wasn't paying much attention to where he was walking. A few of my co-workers and I just happened to be looking up when the fateful event happened. As he passed by us, he acknowledged us with a half-hearted salute, which we returned, but he failed to see the 1/2" EMT pipe sitting on top of our work cart, which subsequently collided with his tender bits. At once my co-workers and I cringed at impact, for we can vividly imagine the pain that he felt, then we burst out in laughter, that I am sure, added insult to injury. We DID inquired if he was okay, but only after the initial outburst of laughter. Looking back on this sad spectacle, I am not proud of the fact that I laughed at another persons pain, but you try not laughing at your boss when he is silently screaming while doing what looks like the pee pee dance in slow motion.

Thanks for the Vent Session. Please feel free to help me out with comments about grammar and all that jazz. Like I said before, I'm just a lowly construction worker and run of the mill evil genius...

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

First Blog... How would you respond?

I've always wondered why people feel the need to start blogging. I mean, why the heck would anyone care what i wrote? I'm not a very remarkable guy, just your average construction worker. The only really big thing that stands out about me, is that I am a REALLY BIG guy. I have musings every now and again, nothing earth shattering, but it's just stuff I wonder about. So I've decided to start one to see what all the hullabaloo is all about. Please understand that i am not a writer, have never aspired to be a writer, or have the slightest idea where a writer would start any idea or topic. Also, please forgive any grammatical or spelling errors. I haven't figured out this Blog thing yet.

I am Polynesian. For those of you who don't know what Polynesian means, it's not some crazy religion, cult, or mental condition (most of the time), but an ethnic group. Look it up is you don't believe me!!! In general, Polynesians are slightly larger than the average American guy. I, for example, am 6'5" (6'6" with my work boots on). Because of my profession, my job sites may vary from week-to-week and I meet lots of different people. When i meet most non-poly folks, it never fails, I get the same weird questions all the time. I hesitate to say dumb because there are no dumb questions and people may honestly not know.

1) Wow, you are big. What do they feed you?
2) Are your parents/brothers and sisters as big as you?
3) I knew a (select any Polynesian Islander) about ( X amount of years) ago. Do you know him/her?

When I first noticed that I was getting asked these questions, I was in awe. These questions are innocent in intent, but if you asked any other group of people these same questions, they might be considered a little offensive and borderline racist. Consider if you asked some big White guy if his family members were as big as he was, or you told your African American co-worker that you knew a Black guy once 25 years ago, and wondered if they knew each other? People sometimes ask me these things on the street as I walk by them. Weird right? Could be viewed as insensitive. But after a little thought on my part, I realized that people who ask me these things, are just curious and genuinely want to know more about me. So now, I am fine and dandy. If you see me on the street and ask me these things, go ahead and ask. I will answer truthfully. And don't wonder if I am insulted because if I am... I'll just Judo Chop you in the neck... LOL

Thanks for the Vent Session.