To all of those who commented I haven't been posting enough, fuck you. Do you have any idea how crazy my life is right now? My free time is being completely consumed by making sure I don't buy the wrong type of bottle nipples and finding out that the stroller I picked out will probably decapitate my child. If any of you reading this decide to be parents someday let me clue you in. According to experts, no matter what you do, some piece of child raising equipment will kill your child UNLESS you buy the most expensive piece of said child raising equipment. And god forbid you buy a stroller before your child is born and a newer model comes out. Congratulations, you just murdered your offspring.
That being said, I have been neglecting this blog. My last few blogs have been short and dumb. Almost like I'm kidding myself thinking "I've posted
something. That's gotta count!" I've found the worst thing about having a blog is having a killer idea for a post, getting home, logging in and completely forgetting what it was you were to blog about. This has happened to me more then once. Usually when that happens, I try to come up with something funny that I think would entertain. It's a pretty good bet that when I try to force something, it usually comes out either highly racist or sexist and not at all funny. Let's be honest, if it was racist and funny, you'd be reading it.
Anyways, I had a great conversation with my buddy Jeremy about life's top 20 moments. It was during this conversation that I realized I truly am an idiot. Most of the ones that I listed were pretty normal; wedding, honeymoon, vacations. Some were really unique; teaching an English class in a Japanese high school, standing on the steps of the capitol building in Malta and being a few feet from the prime minister as he entered the building while thinking this would never happen in the USA.
But two were really idiotic that they made my top 20.
The first is a joke I told at a party. I was at Mike Burke's apartment for New Year's Eve. It was a lovely party and I had quite a few drinks. Mike's lawyer friend, Rachel, who is quite the feminist, was arguing some point about something. I don't really know what she was saying but I do remember wanting her to use a little less volume. So I approached her and interrupted.
"Hey Rachel, do you know why strippers are hot?
"Why?"
"Cause they don't talk much."
Ba-fucking-zing.
The reason that joke makes the top 20 isn't because of the comedic values of the joke, which even sober I must admit are quite high. It was the reaction. Mike Burke burst out laughing which was nice but that's not the reaction I think about when I aggressively masturbate to this memory. That reaction came from Rachel. Rachel turned a lovely shade of red and stared me down as if her glare could melt my face. She kept opening and closing her mouth but emitted no sound, as if he brain couldn't process the fact that yes, I said that and yes, I am that stupid.
That's right. I shut a lawyer up. Boo-Yah!
The second involves a loaf of bread.
The wife and I were visiting her family in Hawaii and we decided to take a couple days and explore the island of Molokai. Molokai is world famous for being a leper colony. Although leprosy was cured decades ago, that's really all the island is known for. It's not a very exciting island. Only about 7000 people live on the island and most of them are employed by the government. It's got a few condos, one nice golf course and one crappy one, and 4 mediocre restaurants. Once the sun goes down there's not a damn thing to do. Not for a while, that is.
You see, Molokai has a store called Kanemitsu Bakery. And the Kanemitsu Bakery has a bizarre tradition. Every night at midnight, down a darkened alley off the main street, through a small green door, they sell hot bread.
Yippee, you say. Hot bread. I know, that's what I thought too. But everyone we talked to said we gotta get that late night bread!
The wife and I finished dinner at 8 and went back to our condo we were renting. There wasn't a damn person on the road or in sight when we got back to the condo. It was 8PM and the island had already gone to bed. We started to doubt the existence of the bread, like maybe it was a practical joke that locals play on the tourists, which in retrospect, if true would have been awesome!
But alas, we decided to stay up to find out what the bread was all about. Which was really hard to do. Between 8 and midnight on Molokai, you're basically watching network TV and trying to stay awake. We made it to 11:45 and drove back into town, again seeing no one nor signs of any activity. We pulled into town and were happily reassured that something was happening as there were a few cars about and we saw people walking down the alley. We pulled into a spot and started the walk down the alley.
The first thing you notice about the walk is the dark. Molokai is a poorly lit island to begin with and when you walk down what the locals refer to a as a dark alley, it is DARK. However, you do hear some people and see a few lights down the alley so you continue.
The second thing you notice is the smell. A wonderful aroma of baking bread fills the air, intensifying as you walk down the alley. You finally arrive at the small lights marking the entrance to the waiting area and you are greeted by the third thing.
A mass of 50 people, happy out of their minds with the fact they are going to eat bread. You would think only tourists would do this but no, it's a local custom as much as a tourist trap. And they are as deliriously happy as the tourists there. You hear all kinds of great talk.
(FYI, bra is short for bruddah or brother which is what the Hawaiians call everyone. Yes, the Hawaiians are an odd lot)
"Hey bra, Where you from?
"
Las Vegas...You?"
"Right there." (as he points at the house up the road)
"
Nice. You do this a lot?"
"Every night bra, every night."
"Dude, I'm gonna buy 20 loaves and bring it back to the mainland"
"
I'm buying 5 to bring home to Germany."
"No way, bra! They ain't gonna last that long."
"
Will they go bad?"
"No bra, you gonna eat em all!"
So you get in line and watch as the next person gets up to the small green door and waits and waits. After a few minutes, the door opens and the bread is served. It arrives in a small pink plastic bag, a fine carrying vessel for the evening's prize. The recipient of the bread walks down the alley past all the people still in line. And everyone is happy and jealous at the same time.
"Bra, you get the bread?"
"
Yep" (showing of the bag)
"Nice bra, enjoy that bread!"
"
You too!"
"Soon bra, soon!"
It's a surreal experience. You're standing in line, waiting for a loaf of bread with a bunch of happy people. And because they're happy, you're happy. And every time someone gets a loaf, everyone in line is happy for them. And they're happy for you because you're going to get bread soon. After a lot of waiting you finally do get bread, and you're happy, and everyone is happy for you.
It's as pure a happy as I've ever experienced.
How's the bread, you ask?
Bra, dat bread is da kine!
