Lefty Limbo

Believe me, I don’t mean to only have Friday 5s on here, but I’ve been totally busy lately. I’ve had time to post some pics on Flickr, just not any time to write about ‘em.

Anyways, here we go again. As usual, brought to you by your friends at Friday5.org.

1. What’s your best advice for someone who’s as drunk as a skunk?

Enjoy your journey of “uninhibited-ness” for as long as you can, yet responsibly if possible. Some things to consider for your safety and the safety of others:

Address people respectfully. You can’t fight worth a crap when you’re drunk.
Practice safe sex.
I cannot stress enough—do not drive, and don’t let any other skunk take you for a ride either. Avoid heavy machinery, rooftop ledges, active train tracks, etc.

2. What’s your best advice for someone who’s as busy as a bee?
Being busy is great, but don’t work yourself to the bone. Every now and then, take a moment to breathe and smell the roses.

3. What’s your best advice for someone who’s as nutty as a fruitcake?
You go, girl (or boy). Don’t let anyone tell you how you gotta be.

4. What’s your best advice for someone who’s as sick as a dog?
Perhaps you should see a doctor?

5. What’s your best advice for someone who’s as ugly as sin?
I’m a firm believer that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Once again, brought to you by Friday5.org.

Long Journeys.

1. What is the longest distance you’ve traveled (in one trip) by foot?

Hmm. I’d probably have to say down Market Street in San Francisco on New Year’s Eve, 2007. It was after Hepcat’s New Year’s Eve show at Slim’s, sometime around 1:30-2 A.M. My cousin Rob and I had taken a cab to the show from our hotel and couldn’t find a cab back, so we hoofed it. I don’t even know the distance, but it seemed like forever. It was pretty surreal. The streets were actually pretty empty, except for some gutter punks and vagrants who sat on the sidewalk. One of them was passed out in his own fresh vomit. Happy New Year’s.

2. What is the longest trip you’ve taken by car?

In one sitting? Definitely taking the 395 Freeway North up to Dayton, Nevada from Los Angeles, to visit family. 10 hrs. straight, in the middle of the night. Another surreal journey that was literally a two-lane highway in pitch black darkness. I think the whole way up on that highway we must have passed 1-2 cars max. It was the first time I’d seen “one-light towns” and the sign for Camp Manzanar.

3. What is the longest trip you’ve taken by plane?

The 15-hour flight to and from De Pilipins. Good ol’ Pan Am. I did this a couple of times. Then in 1980, on the way back, I had the longest nosebleed ever, and caught Pneumonia when I got home. Yay.

4. What is the longest trip you’ve taken on some kind of water craft?

Definitely during a patrol with River Division 54 on the Nha Be River in ’67. We had to keep Charlie from the Mekong—oh wait, that wasn’t that long of a trip.

De Pilipins wins once again. This time, a small, rickety boat from Marinduque (a small island) to Manila, which was about a 40-mile trip. The seas were rough and the deck was slick with vomit from seasick passengers (Hmm, vomit is quite the commonality in my longest journeys). May have been the worst ride ever, but surely an unforgettable experience which I’m glad to have survived. Made me see how much I took for granted.

5. What is the longest trip you’ve taken aboard a bus or train?
Not long by distance, but time-wise—the RTD bus from Bell to Santa Monica, CA. 3+ hours. And the seats were slick with fresh vomit the whole time. Kidding. However, I will say that one time, on a #3 Blue Bus in Santa Monica on a hot summer day, I was sitting by someone who was completely wasted (or sick, or both) and was barfing profusely into a plastic bag, which was plump with hot, sour-smelling vomit. The whole bus reeked of it, and I almost vomited myself, from the smell.

Spam Musubi from Ono Hawaiian BBQ. Not as Ono as Maui's though!

Of all the beautiful sights and sounds of Maui, the one thing that I miss the most is the Spam Musubi which I discovered in the small cafe in the hotel lobby where we were staying. I just happened to see it one morning just before our excursion to the Road To Hana—a trip which must be made literally at the crack of dawn in order to “follow the sun.”

We never had time to eat a good breakfast during those trips, so I usually grabbed whatever the cafe had prepared, which was typically some kind of ham and cheese croissant or sandwich of some sort.

One morning when I brought the sandwich up to the counter, I saw this small nondescript brick next to the register, wrapped neatly in plastic. I picked it up and felt the heft in my hand. It was a solid, dense thing, and I examined it closely. It was wrapped in seaweed and looked like it had some kind of meat and rice within. I asked the cashier what it was.

“That’s a Spam Musubi,” she said.

“Spam Musubi? That’s Spam in there?” My jaw dropped (*Note: If there’s anything that gets a Filipino excited, it’s Spam. I tell you, it’s like catnip). “Wow!”

Without hesitation, I tossed the sandwich aside and bought the brick. And I tell you, that thing was freakin’ delicious. Plus, it held me over for a long, long time—I wasn’t hungry on the whole Road to Hana.

I think about the WWII servicemen who stayed in the Pacific and missed certain elements of their exotic locales, and inevitably brought their fetishes forth at home through tiki lounges and such. I would make a musubi lounge if I could. I worship those things.

Not to be totally out of luck here on the mainland. There’s a few Hawaiian places that stock Spam Musubi, even a spot by my house—Rutt’s Cafe—whose shirts say “What the heck is a Spam Musubi?” (guess who bought one of those?), but none of them yet have featured that island finesse that made that Maui one Ono. The one in Maui was wrapped tight enough to bounce a quarter off the seaweed. All its sides were flat and perpendicular with neat, sharp edges. And inside, the rice was so sticky and densely packed that it maintained its shape to the very last bite. It really was a work of art.

Here, although the ones I’ve had contain the same basic ingredients (you can’t go wrong with just three), they don’t reflect quite the same flavor and craftsmanship which I remember. The one above was from Ono Hawaiian BBQ. It tasted good, but totally fell apart after the first bite.

Oh well. Maybe I’m just a musubi snob.

There are few people who could make me ROTFLMFAO, and Leslie Nielsen was one of them. He’ll be sorely missed by many. The clip above is one of my all-time favorite scenes. The funny thing is, the organ player totally switches to some crazy chord just before everything gets screwed up…and that chord is what gets me laughing most. Hilarious. LONG LIVE ENRICO PALLAZZO!

Once again, the champ reigns supreme. Outweighed by 17 pounds and shorter by 5 inches, Pacquiao held his own and pounded Margarito into carne asada last night.

In celebration, I’m selling my Pacquiao Will PAC YOU UP! t-shirts for just $10, and if you buy 2 or more, they’re only $7.50 a pop! Click here to buy ‘em!

For me, this victory is sweeter than most, after hearing Margarito call Pacquiao a puto in HBO’s Pacquiao-Margarito 24/7…better yet, teaching a little boy to call him that after the boy sees Pacquiao’s picture in a magazine. I wonder what the boy thought after seeing the fight.

To make things worse (or better), Margarito’s team even made fun of Freddie Roach, Pacquiao’s trainer, who suffers from Parkinson’s disease.

But that’s alright. Who’s suffering now, eh?

We’re born
into a bright and shiny world
crawling through life
later learning
our whole world
is just trash and shit
We die
but baby
it was still
cool to
fly

Yay! We won the world cup!

Interesting to see someone waving a Spanish Neo-Nazi flag (similar to the one above) upon the victory of Spain at this years FIFA Copa Mundiál without incident. If anyone did that over here, there’d be a tremendous uproar, followed by endless reruns of the Time Life DVD commercial The Nazis: A Warning From History.

Happiness
measured in minutes
hours, days
’til that one special moment
where everything seems
a little brighter

Promises, resolutions
mending loose ends
forgiveness
and the feeling
of a clean slate
refreshed

It could be just any other day
a beginning
an end
but we celebrate it
like it’s a big deal

Just remember
every day is special
anything can happen
anytime

Be prepared.

This morning I woke up and was like, “I want to celebrate today with some good food.”

I remembered that in my cupboard I had one of those new “half-can” Spams, which yielded just enough slices for a hearty breakfast. So out on the stove it went. Sizzle sizzle. Mmm mm. Hot, fried Spam on a bed of fresh steamy white rice is definitely something I’m thankful for…on any day. 10-12 hour turkey? Whatever.

Speaking of this holiday, by far the most memorable quote I associate with Thanksgiving would be Wednesday’s ad-lib in the Thanksgiving Day Play on Addams Family Values:

You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts.

Kind of strange that I didn’t realize the irony in Thanksgiving Day celebration until I saw that movie. Yet since then, Thanksgiving has taken a whole new meaning to me. I see it simply now as a day of giving thanks for the health, love and happiness I have in my life.

In that context, I believe I should be thankful every day for those things. Perhaps Thanksgiving Day is just an “official” day to count my blessings.

It’s 6pm and 80+ degrees in Whittier. I’d realized I’d made a mistake wearing my brand new black Pepy’s Galley shirt in this heat, and it’s sticking to my chest and back with my own sweaty adhesive (sounds gross). I bought an Aquafina and finished it. I never finish my waters.

Yet afterwards, I make my way into Starbucks (yay, Wi-Fi), and I order a tall Sumatra. Hot, with no room for cream.

I guess I like my coffee.