Nuisance Log Part 1

I'm the type of person that flies off the handle when things don't go even slightly my way. I'm prone to fits of quaking anger at the slightest inconvenience, or bursts of violence towards inanimate objects. My heart rate quadruples, my hands start to shake uncontrollably, I curse the gods, I curse random strangers, I curse myself. In an effort to help distract my possibly diseased psyche from such behavior I'll periodically add to this log with things that irk me beyond hope throughout a particular day. I will try to update this log at least weekly, so:

NUISANCE LOG 9 December 2009

1. While driving to work at 6am down the mostly deserted Highway 246 I accelerated to 70 mph ahead of traffic that was all ready well behind me. I was quickly the only person on the road and switched to "cruising stress free" mode. Another car eventually appeared in my rearview and quickly caught up with me. Not satisfied with trailing me at a safe distance while doing 70 mph (a reasonable speed limit in a 55 mph zone in my opinion) the car began to tail me, leaving roughly 5 feet between our cars. I fantasized about slamming on my brakes and then setting the wreckage of both cars aflame, then possibly break dancing on the ashes.

2. Gave in to my craving for junk food for lunch and went to Burger King. There was an excessive line streaming through the store and out the front door. I waited patiently, starving quietly. Twenty minutes passed as I watched an adorable abuelita pay for sixteen whopper meals with nickels. Eventually it was my turn to order, but the burger monger taking my order explained to me that the receipt paper had run out and he needed to get more. He left, and returned 2 or 3 minutes later with a roll of paper which was, holy crap, not the right size. An argument broke out between the burger monger and the day manager in which one demanded that the paper would fit while the other refused to try a second time. This went on for quite some time, during which I dreamed of an apocalyptic onion ring holocaust.

3. Encountered several, that is, more than one, catch-22's at work. Several solutions were available to me, all of which were cryptic and possibly illegal. Emailed coworkers, leadership, friends in other cities, and the base Rabbi. Was encouraged to give up, power down my work station and slip quietly into Canada. Spent the rest of the afternoon pouring over obscure texts (written in some archaic possibly babylonian-derived language) searching for guidance. Found no guidance, wept silently at my desk waiting for my demotion and imprisonment.

Nope. I don't feel better yet. This will do for therapy for now...more to come I assure you.

Mittens

- originally written and posted November 14th, 2006
I'm not one of those metro-sexuals. I don't use PRODUCT in my hair, I use hair-goo, and sparingly at that. I have never and will never get a MANICURE or a PEDICURE, I use my teeth, even on my feet (just kidding). I also don't get my EYEBROWS WAXED, which, for a man, I think is the most un-manly activity as yet to be defined as such.

I have, however, considered getting my back waxed, simply because i don't enjoy watching girls cry at the sight of me with my shirt off, screaming things like "kill it, please lord, KILL IT!" and "wow, a real-life ewok". I'm furry, and sometimes I get just a bit self-conscious, especially when the women weep. But in the end, my overwhelming manliness get's the better of me and I shake off the urge to "manscape" and pull a week-old sandwich out of my chest hair and chew it delicately while watching a monster truck rally on tv and sitting in my underwear on my couch.
I hate shopping more than most men. I like to buy some new threads once in a while, but mostly I want to go in, buy my shit, and promptly exit (perhaps shooting an awkward yet suggestive glance at the amazingly attractive girl at American Eagle...what's up baby, yeah, you know me). I usually go alone, in and out in seconds, leaving nothing but tattered debit card receipts in my wake. I don't talk to anyone, I don't compare prices at different stores, I don't even try stuff on when I can avoid to. I'm a shopping ninja.

I was practicing my shopping ninja skills the other day at the Pearlridge mall in Aiea on the thusfar thoroughly absurd colony of Oahu. I walked into the Gap to buy shorts, maybe a plain t-shirt or something. Underpants, I needed underpants too. Lots of underpants. Anyway, I spent ten minutes or so wandering the store, occassionally drifting involuntarily into the women's sleepwear section, but who could blame me. After a few odd looks from the ladies I meandered back to the mens side for my shorts. After a few confused minutes I realized I couldn't find any shorts. I also couldn't find any t-shirts.

Wait, what the hell is going on, I thought, shaking off the fantasy of the girl from American Eagle wearing Gap sleepwear telling me repeatedly how much she "can't believe it's not butter". Instead of t-shirts and shorts (typical hawaii wear) I saw Parka's, poofy coats, pea-coats, scarves, and fucking mittens. MITTENS!!! IN HAWAII!!! It has never, ever snowed on the island of Oahu. The average LOW temperature in WINTER here is 80-something. Why is there winter clothing for sale in the Gap. No, here's a better question...why is there EXCLUSIVELY NOTHING BUT WINTER CLOTHING FOR SALE in the Gap?? Do the good people at the Gap know something we don't about climate change? Is someone planning a massive, 3-month long ice-festival in Honolulu, where tons and tons of snow will be imported from Alaska via super-fast hovercraft?

It's so hot here all the time, even at night, that people walk around naked and it's perfectly acceptable. The newswoman on channel 8? Naked. The governor, Mrs. Lingle? Always naked. The Hawaiian National Guard uniform? Nudity. Point is, it's too hot for clothing in Hawaii.
So, here's my message to the Gap: Lose the winter clothing in your stores in Hawaii. There's no need for them. There is no snow in Hawaii, except at the very top of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, and no one goes there. I have no use for wool mittens here, nor knitted scarves, nor gortex parkas. I need a pair of board shorts, slippahs, and underpants. Lots of underpants for some reason.

Leafblower Madness

-Originally written and posted October 23rd, 2006
Have you ever been rattled from a deep sleep by some ungodly noise coming from outside your room? Has this ever happened to you two nights in a row? How about ten nights in a row?
Someone needs to sit down with me one day, maybe over brunch or something, and explain to me the rationale behind the impulse one might feel to throttle-up a fucking leaf blower at 4:30 in the morning. Seriously. How can someone be so irked by accumulating leaves and twigs that they are moved to unleash the ultimate power in lawn and garden cleaning, the Blowmaster 5000, at the ass-crack of dawn.

Yes, 5000cc's of wind-generating, hand-held mayhem, enough to blow the snot out of your six year old, enough to blow the dentures right out of grandma's mouth. Fuck the goddamn broom that would be more than adequate for the four pine needles gently wafting across your sidewalk. I need to punish those fucking pine needles, send them back to the evergreen hell from where they came with some over-the-top wind power.

Someone needs to stop this maniac leaf-blower. I need to sleep passed 4:30am at least once this week.