Friday, August 28, 2009

102-degree Run

I saw a man jogging at around 1:30pm today. Why he chose to run in 102-degree weather with the sun still directly overhead is pretty mind-boggling.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Do I Stink?

It was another ordinary Thursday in the Spring of 2009.

Or so I thought.

Well, for the most part my Thursday was ordinary... until I bumped into Desmond.

I got off of the bus that day to find my former classmate standing a few feet in front of me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said back.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

Of course I didn't mind being asked a question, but I don't think I really had a choice anyway. Before I even had the chance to mentally approve his question, Desmond dove right into what turned my ordinary day into an unordinary one:

"This is gonna sound really weird... but do I stink?"

If the moment he asked me that question was in a movie, the corresponding background audio would have been either car tires screeching or a scowling cat falling into a trash bin.

There I was, standing in front of a lean-physiqued, perfectly gel-spiked haired, light eyed, decently dressed, relatively attractive-looking guy, who had decided to ask me, of all people, if he was stinky.

"Oh well..." I thought to myself.

At that point I figured the best thing to do would be to demonstrate concern. I turned towards him, heaved a huge amount of the odorless oxygen surrounding him into my lungs, and assured him he smelled fine.

Desmond wasn't convinced with my verdict and went so far as to suggest that perhaps my sense of smell was flawed or that maybe I had not smelled correctly.

Was there a proper way to smell a guy for odor? He was obviously hinting that I should smell him closer.

It was a bit odd, but I leaned in so that I was about one to two inches away from Desmond's left sleeve and took a sniff. I smelled nothing and reassured him that he didn't stink.

Really though, he didn't stink.

Despite my odor-check, I saw Desmond pick up the collar of his shirt and smell it to double-check for any foul scent anyway.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


I've been wondering for quite some time now if there's a proper way to put a waxie sheet on a toilet seat. Does the papery side go up? Or the waxie side?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009


I walked past a man who wore a pink shirt and smelled like he was saturated in eucalyptus oil.

Monday, August 10, 2009


Back home drivers are pretty spoiled - we have gas attendants pump the gas for us.

On the mainland, you do it yourself.

I happened to be one of those spoiled drivers, completely oblivious as to how to properly pump gas into a vehicle.
Last week I asked my coworker's nephew to show me how to pump fuel into a car, a procedure I was very unfamiliar with at the time.

He walked me through it step-by-step, starting with selecting the fuel. (I was indeed clueless to that extent - I never had to think about pressing any buttons back home. All I had to do was tell the gas attendant, "Full tank, regular please.") By the time I had the gas nozzle in my hand, Phil explained to me in terms that I likely won't forget any time in the near future, how to perform the most critical part of the process: he told me it was time to stick the gas nozzle into the gashole.

I wasn't able to get past that part because my short attention span became exceedingly amused with how much gashole sounded like the word a**hole. I shoved the nozzle in there and Phil had to do the rest - secure the nozzle and make sure it stayed put.

Last night I did it though. I shoved that sucker into the gashole of Phil's car (even though there was a little spill before I even got it inside...) and put the nozzle back in its place once I got some gas in.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

"How Do You Usually Style Your Hair?"

I met up with Ann at the mall today. It was nice because we haven't seen each other in over a year. But that's besides the point.

We were debating about where to eat when some random civilian-looking guy came up to us and directed a question towards me: "How do you usually style your hair?"

I can't explain how incredibly lost I was. I was unusually stumped because I couldn't figure out how he generated such an out-of-nowhere question.

"I... usually tie it...?" I muttered, unsure of why I decided to answer the guy's pointless question.

Before he could try to make anymore small talk, I told him that Ann and I had to go.

"Why does everybody have to go today?" he responded instantly in a very adamant tone.

"I don't know..." I said, even more lost because he seemed so determined to market some unknown product.

"It's a Saturday, lots of things to see," Ann quickly improvised.

Then we walked away.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Who's careless enough to walk their foot into a wall?

I am because I did.

I walked my right foot straight into a wall this past January. I was walking out of the bedroom and for some reason my brain told me my foot was going to make it through the doorway.

Unfortunately my brain was very mistaken. My entire foot went up against the wall and I ended up fracturing my toe. I might add that my toe isn't completely healed until today.

Don't know what went wrong with my eye-body coordination that evening.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Sick American Sales

I stopped by Staples with my family today because we saw an ad for one-cent packs of filler paper. I just knew there had to be some sort of catch, but I went with them anyway.

Turned out the limit for the filler paper was five packs per customer. Aside from that, the 120 sheets per pack cost a stunning one cent each.

I immediately dumped five packs of paper into the shopping cart once we got inside Staples. Most of the family was intent on taking advantage of the ridiculous pricing, so I had to line up two times to get the 10 packs of filler paper I wanted.

As I went back to the aisle with the filler paper to pile another five packs into my arms, I was thrilled to find out that Leina (who visited from Saipan for the summer) wasn't going to buy any filler paper. I asked her if she would line up for me, then handed her five packs of paper and a nickel.

The sight of the cashier ringing up five items and Leina placing a nickel on the counter to pay for the merchandise was pretty funny.

So I walked out of Staples with 1,800 sheets of filler paper for 15 cents.