More unconnected thoughts on the human condition and life in general, from where I’m sitting.
-We had a tsunami warning yesterday because of the earthquake in Chile. It reminded me of something funny that I saw on my last trip to the southern end of the island. We have signs all over the island that point to the tsunami evacuation route you’re supposed to take if one comes close. There’s one of these signs down near Inarajan that points directly to the ocean. Ok, it’s not “ha ha funny”, but I found it amusing.
-If anyone needs a really good hard laugh, take yourself to your local video store and rent Wanda Sykes: I’ma Be Me as soon as possible. The language may be a little rough for some people, but for 90 minutes I laughed my ass off.
-I was in the grocery yesterday picking up a few things when I noticed something. I didn’t realize that they still made (and still sold) Nighttrain wine. For those of you unfamiliar with it, its wine whose primary market is bums, winos, and alcoholics on a budget. Seriously nasty stuff, like fruit flavored lighter fluid. I didn’t realize there was still a market for it, but apparently there is.
-At the company I work for, the HR department blasts out an email to all hands whenever someone leaves the company, gets fired or just quits. In the last 3 weeks, at least 7 people have left either voluntarily or involuntarily, including my supervisor. Considering the small size of our company, that seems like a lot to me, and it’s a little disconcerting.
-Why is it that almost everyone who owns a Lexus SUV on this island drives it like they’re both drunk and has a learning disability? They all seem to want to drive at least 10 MPH below the already too low speed limit, in the passing lane. None of them seem to feel the need to signal lane changes, wanting those following behind them to just guess what their intentions are. Having money does not necessarily equate to having intelligence.
-I find it odd that I’m a picky eater who enjoys watching Food Network so much. Watching people prepare food that I my own self would never in a million years actually eat. Nigella Lawson (seriously beautiful English woman), Alton Brown (massively cool nerd) and Duff Goldman (politically incorrect baker) are my favorites. Iron Chef America is must-see TV in my house, along with Good Eats. The ones I don’t like are The Barefoot Contessa (too Caucasian), Rachel Ray (too perky and irritating) and Bobby Flay (asshole).
-It’s sad to actually say this, but it’s true. Anyone who does not believe that racism is alive and well here on Guam is blind to it. Even more so, but to a smaller extent, in the company I work for. I will expound on this subject a little more in depth in a future blog.
-The place where I go to wash clothes is a great place to people watch. Nothing like observing people going about a banal, boring, but quite necessary task. Besides, there’s really nothing better to do while you’re washing your drawers if you forgot to bring a book, like I normally do. Every once in a while, there’s also an opportunity to have some interesting conversations as well.
-It might be a good thing that my wife is still in the Philippines. If she saw the condition of our apartment, she would probably kick my ass. I’m not saying it’s horribly filthy dirty, but by Wife Standards, it would not please her. I might have to break out the cleaning supplies and give the place the once-over today.
More later. Breakfast awaits, and I have to shoot at the Boonie Hens again.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Talkative Lola
When I first started going to the Philippines a few years back, I met a lady that my wife and I refer to as “The Talkative Lola”. Lola in Tagalog means grandmother, and at the time I met her, she was about 78 years old.
We called her the Talkative Lola because as she would walk past my wife’s house, she would always stop and have a chat, lasting at a minimum 30 minutes. When I was there, it was usually an hour. While her English wasn’t perfect, I understood her well enough to carry on a conversation.
In this place that’s slightly less Catholic than, say, Vatican City, this woman was Super Catholic. Mass every Sunday, a picture of the Virgin Mary in her house, prayer cards. I understood that, and I understood how she acted when she found out that I was a Protestant. I’m not saying she treated me any differently than anyone else. Quite the opposite actually. She would always make a point in telling me that Protestants and Catholics were basically the same, worshipping the same God. She also let me know that in her life she had had many Protestant friends, saying this in the way that white people used to talk in the 60’s and 70’s about other minority groups. “Oh, I have quite a few (insert name of minority group) who are good friends.”
When I was there and would attend Mass with the wife and her family, the Talkative Lola made it a point of bringing me to the priest to get a blessing and say something along the lines of, “he’s a Protestant, but really a good guy.” The priest would smile, and I would smile and laugh a little bit. I found all of this both touching and funny at the same time.
When my wife and I went back there a few weeks ago, the Talkative Lola had been quite ill and in the hospital. After we arrived, we found out that her body was failing her and she didn’t have long left on this earth. Instead of letting her stay in the hospital, away from family and friends and racking up medical bills at $1500 a day, she told her family that she wanted to go home. I had a chance to visit with her one evening while I was there. At that point, her kidneys had stopped working, she couldn’t speak, and couldn’t keep anything but baby formula down. I talked to her for a moment, smiled at her, and then got out of the way of the other 100 or so people crammed into the small house.
This past Monday, she passed away at the age of 83. My wife and I talked about her situation a lot, and both agreed that the way she was doing it, by coming home, was the right thing to do. At that age and the condition she was in, there really wasn’t much the doctors could do for her anyway. We both agreed that 83 is a good long life, and she should spend her last moments on Earth with those who love her.
I know very little about the woman, all in all. I know that she was a devout Catholic, that she loved her family, and had a great sense of humor, and could talk a blue streak when she felt like it. It’s amazing sometimes the way that people make an impact on your life and the fact that while you may know very little about them, they still hold a place somewhere near your heart.
I hope that she finds peace in whatever comes after this.
We called her the Talkative Lola because as she would walk past my wife’s house, she would always stop and have a chat, lasting at a minimum 30 minutes. When I was there, it was usually an hour. While her English wasn’t perfect, I understood her well enough to carry on a conversation.
In this place that’s slightly less Catholic than, say, Vatican City, this woman was Super Catholic. Mass every Sunday, a picture of the Virgin Mary in her house, prayer cards. I understood that, and I understood how she acted when she found out that I was a Protestant. I’m not saying she treated me any differently than anyone else. Quite the opposite actually. She would always make a point in telling me that Protestants and Catholics were basically the same, worshipping the same God. She also let me know that in her life she had had many Protestant friends, saying this in the way that white people used to talk in the 60’s and 70’s about other minority groups. “Oh, I have quite a few (insert name of minority group) who are good friends.”
When I was there and would attend Mass with the wife and her family, the Talkative Lola made it a point of bringing me to the priest to get a blessing and say something along the lines of, “he’s a Protestant, but really a good guy.” The priest would smile, and I would smile and laugh a little bit. I found all of this both touching and funny at the same time.
When my wife and I went back there a few weeks ago, the Talkative Lola had been quite ill and in the hospital. After we arrived, we found out that her body was failing her and she didn’t have long left on this earth. Instead of letting her stay in the hospital, away from family and friends and racking up medical bills at $1500 a day, she told her family that she wanted to go home. I had a chance to visit with her one evening while I was there. At that point, her kidneys had stopped working, she couldn’t speak, and couldn’t keep anything but baby formula down. I talked to her for a moment, smiled at her, and then got out of the way of the other 100 or so people crammed into the small house.
This past Monday, she passed away at the age of 83. My wife and I talked about her situation a lot, and both agreed that the way she was doing it, by coming home, was the right thing to do. At that age and the condition she was in, there really wasn’t much the doctors could do for her anyway. We both agreed that 83 is a good long life, and she should spend her last moments on Earth with those who love her.
I know very little about the woman, all in all. I know that she was a devout Catholic, that she loved her family, and had a great sense of humor, and could talk a blue streak when she felt like it. It’s amazing sometimes the way that people make an impact on your life and the fact that while you may know very little about them, they still hold a place somewhere near your heart.
I hope that she finds peace in whatever comes after this.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Weirdness Never Ends
Something happened at work yesterday that hit home for me pretty hard. In fact, it hurt, although I kind-of sort-of knew it was coming in one form or the other. It was one of those things that was inevitable, but the way it happened really upset me a lot.
For the last three years, I have worked for a woman who was and is far beyond a supervisor. She’s a friend, who I just happened to work for. We had a relationship where she would and did bust me in my ass when I screwed up, and 30 minutes later we would be laughing about something. To say that I love her like a slightly older sister is a gross understatement. She is one of those rare people that I’ve come across in life who I would do anything for, no matter what it was. When my wife first arrived on island, the two of them met the first day that my wife was here. My friend didn’t say a word, but reached out and hugged my wife, letting her know in this simple gesture that she was happy to meet her and that she’s family.
Tuesday morning, my boss was summoned to Corporate HQ and fired. Well, not exactly fired. It seems that the people she met with didn’t actually have the guts to tell her to her face that she was fired. What they did was tell her that it would be best if she quit. When she refused, they told her that she was being let go. They handed her the paycheck they owed her, escorted her over to her office, watched her pack her stuff.
This is a woman who gave her heart and soul to the company, gave more of herself than any other person I have ever worked for, and they put her on the streets like yesterday’s garbage.
In the past 24 hours, I have heard the reason that she was fired, and still can’t wrap my head around it. It seems that she was in a meeting with two other people from my department and two from another department. During this meeting, she had a phone conversation with someone else in the company, a call that so enraged her that once it was over, she threw her phone down on the floor in disgust. She was let go because of “violence”; to wit, because she threw her phone down. Apparently one of the people in this meeting felt threatened by the “violence of the act” and complained to someone in senior management.
No, I am not joking. She was let go because of violence. This is so strange that I still can’t understand it.
The bottom line is this. The company that I work for has lost a manager who was great with people, a superb technician, a telecommunications professional who is simply one of the best. I have lost someone who I work with that I felt unafraid to bounce ideas off of, someone who I trust implicitly. We still are and I hope always will remain friends, but it sucks that she will no longer be there at work, to share laughs, talk trash, and sneak in some fun amidst the chaos that our company seems to relish.
Of all the bad days I have had at work, yesterday was easily the worst.
For the last three years, I have worked for a woman who was and is far beyond a supervisor. She’s a friend, who I just happened to work for. We had a relationship where she would and did bust me in my ass when I screwed up, and 30 minutes later we would be laughing about something. To say that I love her like a slightly older sister is a gross understatement. She is one of those rare people that I’ve come across in life who I would do anything for, no matter what it was. When my wife first arrived on island, the two of them met the first day that my wife was here. My friend didn’t say a word, but reached out and hugged my wife, letting her know in this simple gesture that she was happy to meet her and that she’s family.
Tuesday morning, my boss was summoned to Corporate HQ and fired. Well, not exactly fired. It seems that the people she met with didn’t actually have the guts to tell her to her face that she was fired. What they did was tell her that it would be best if she quit. When she refused, they told her that she was being let go. They handed her the paycheck they owed her, escorted her over to her office, watched her pack her stuff.
This is a woman who gave her heart and soul to the company, gave more of herself than any other person I have ever worked for, and they put her on the streets like yesterday’s garbage.
In the past 24 hours, I have heard the reason that she was fired, and still can’t wrap my head around it. It seems that she was in a meeting with two other people from my department and two from another department. During this meeting, she had a phone conversation with someone else in the company, a call that so enraged her that once it was over, she threw her phone down on the floor in disgust. She was let go because of “violence”; to wit, because she threw her phone down. Apparently one of the people in this meeting felt threatened by the “violence of the act” and complained to someone in senior management.
No, I am not joking. She was let go because of violence. This is so strange that I still can’t understand it.
The bottom line is this. The company that I work for has lost a manager who was great with people, a superb technician, a telecommunications professional who is simply one of the best. I have lost someone who I work with that I felt unafraid to bounce ideas off of, someone who I trust implicitly. We still are and I hope always will remain friends, but it sucks that she will no longer be there at work, to share laughs, talk trash, and sneak in some fun amidst the chaos that our company seems to relish.
Of all the bad days I have had at work, yesterday was easily the worst.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Brain Farts from the Guam Desk
Random observations for this lovely Friday night.
-I rarely watch the local news here on Guam, because it’s basically all the same bullshit. Some politician has his panties in an uproar over something, and ends up looking like an idiot. Tonight, it was Senator Ben Pangelinan’s turn to look like someone shit in his cereal. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was trying to cook dinner, but anytime a politician here opens his/her mouth, you can expect either whining, bullshit, or all of the above. The grimaces and shouting during a televised hearing were all you needed to know to tell that the good Senator was Not Happy.
-I don’t hate all politicians. Just most of them.
-For those of you unfamiliar with Life on Guam, the soap opera story of JFK High School continues on. JFK is located across the street from Kmart, and was condemned a few years ago because it was/is in such horrible condition that it wasn’t/isn’t safe for students to go there. It’s been over two years, and basically nothing has been done about rebuilding or renovating the school. Another hearing about it today, and surprise surprise, nothing got accomplished. I’m on the unpopular side of the issue, because I think they should burn it to the ground and build something useful there, like a Walmart or a Sam’s Club or a Best Buy. Obviously, Government of Guam is too screwed up to actually take any action to resolve the situation. Why not just tear it down and offer this prime piece of real estate to someone who can build something that would actually benefit the people who live here? I have $5 that says it will be at least two years more before anything happens on this issue. A Walmart with an Arby’s on the side would be ideal.
-All smokers know that the best cigarettes a person can have are the ones while taking a dump and immediately after sex. Sadly, the only place a person can smoke and shit at the same time is in the privacy of their own home.
-Had my annual performance appraisal today. It was what I expected before I entered the room and my supervisor made it as pleasant an experience as these things can be. Usually, getting your performance evaluation isn’t fun but it’s a part of the job. My boss tries hard to keep it light and does a good job at it. Basically it was “You’re doing well. A couple of small things you can work on. You’re a valuable part of the team. Keep doing well.” In and out in 15 minutes.
-Sometimes, the simple pleasures in life can be really cool if we just take a few minutes to appreciate them. I was driving to work this morning and had some Allman Brothers playing in the car stereo blasting out some “Jessica”, almost no one on the road and Hagatna Bay in the windshield. I thought for a moment that this was just about the perfect way to start the day.
More later, gotta watch Iron Chef America.
-I rarely watch the local news here on Guam, because it’s basically all the same bullshit. Some politician has his panties in an uproar over something, and ends up looking like an idiot. Tonight, it was Senator Ben Pangelinan’s turn to look like someone shit in his cereal. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was trying to cook dinner, but anytime a politician here opens his/her mouth, you can expect either whining, bullshit, or all of the above. The grimaces and shouting during a televised hearing were all you needed to know to tell that the good Senator was Not Happy.
-I don’t hate all politicians. Just most of them.
-For those of you unfamiliar with Life on Guam, the soap opera story of JFK High School continues on. JFK is located across the street from Kmart, and was condemned a few years ago because it was/is in such horrible condition that it wasn’t/isn’t safe for students to go there. It’s been over two years, and basically nothing has been done about rebuilding or renovating the school. Another hearing about it today, and surprise surprise, nothing got accomplished. I’m on the unpopular side of the issue, because I think they should burn it to the ground and build something useful there, like a Walmart or a Sam’s Club or a Best Buy. Obviously, Government of Guam is too screwed up to actually take any action to resolve the situation. Why not just tear it down and offer this prime piece of real estate to someone who can build something that would actually benefit the people who live here? I have $5 that says it will be at least two years more before anything happens on this issue. A Walmart with an Arby’s on the side would be ideal.
-All smokers know that the best cigarettes a person can have are the ones while taking a dump and immediately after sex. Sadly, the only place a person can smoke and shit at the same time is in the privacy of their own home.
-Had my annual performance appraisal today. It was what I expected before I entered the room and my supervisor made it as pleasant an experience as these things can be. Usually, getting your performance evaluation isn’t fun but it’s a part of the job. My boss tries hard to keep it light and does a good job at it. Basically it was “You’re doing well. A couple of small things you can work on. You’re a valuable part of the team. Keep doing well.” In and out in 15 minutes.
-Sometimes, the simple pleasures in life can be really cool if we just take a few minutes to appreciate them. I was driving to work this morning and had some Allman Brothers playing in the car stereo blasting out some “Jessica”, almost no one on the road and Hagatna Bay in the windshield. I thought for a moment that this was just about the perfect way to start the day.
More later, gotta watch Iron Chef America.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Boonie Hen Dilemma
Those of you who don’t live here on the lovely island of Guam may not be familiar with the concept of boonie hens. I would like to take a moment to explain exactly what they are and what my problem is with them.
Boonie hens are in fact wild chickens, belonging to no one in particular. They roam the island, going wherever they want, usually unbothered by most of the population. The only place where there doesn’t seem to be preponderance of boonie hens is in the tourist areas in Tumon, where all the hotels are at. Every place else on the island, you can hear roosters crowing.
Where I live, they roam through the backyard of my apartment building, and in the evening, roost in the mango trees outside my lanai (yes, they can fly but not far). The Gorgeous One (my wife) has no problems with them because every now and then they will lay eggs on our lanai and she eagerly scoops them up. Fresh eggs are fresh eggs, and free ones are even better, according to her.
My problem is the noise. When I get home after a hard day of toil, I don’t want to hear all of the crowing, especially when the bastards are settling in for the night. Sometimes they make a LOT OF NOISE. The roosters also feel that between the hours of 4-6 AM is a fine time to crow. For a person who is a Chronic Insomniac who values his sleep, this is Not A Good Thing.
I made a casual reference to this problem to my supervisor one day as we were taking a smoke and coffee break. Her answer was pretty simple. “Get yourself a BB gun”, she told me. Since my supervisor is one of those tree hugging animal lovers who regularly volunteers at a local animal shelter and loves all kinds of creatures, I found this answer, coming from her, a little shocking. Seeing the disbelief on my face, she elaborated. “They’re boonie hens. No one will care. Think of them as rats. Just shoot ‘em”. A trip to Kmart and the expenditure of $15 and I was set.
The first night I had the BB gun, it was as if the hens sensed that trouble had come to town, because that evening they decided to be very quiet. A good thing, since I was prepared to kick chicken butt. Alas, the peace would not last long, because the next night, after walking into the apartment with my ass dragging, there arose a serious ruckus from the lanai. Not one but three roosters were raising holy hell out there, and I wasn’t having it.
Grabbing up my trusty Crossman, I headed for the lanai. The first rooster was in the mango tree closest to our lanai, a distance of maybe 10 feet. Now, I can be an asshole whenever I want, but for some reason I didn’t want to kill these birds. Just merely hurry them along to somewhere else. With that in mind, I took aim and shot the first rooster dead in the ass. The BB found its mark, and the bird went apeshit crazy trying to get out of that tree, basically losing its mind. Reload and the next target of opportunity gets a round in its ass. More serious noise as the hens bailed out of those trees. Within 5 minutes, peace and quiet that lasts for maybe 30 seconds.
This time, the noise is coming from The Gorgeous One, who at this moment is not amused. She gets a little mad at me, telling me that the birds are only doing what nature intended them to do. My counterargument is that I have no problem with them doing what comes naturally, as long as they do it Somewhere Else.
Every once in a while I have to remind the birds that the mango trees are Off Limits. Let’s face it, chickens are some of the dumbest animals God ever put on this earth, with a limited amount of short term memory. They eat their own feces and are a pain in the ass. Once in a while, the brutes need to be reminded that there is evil lurking behind the screen door. Marlin Perkins I ain’t, and BB’s are cheap. The only good chicken is one roasted over a fire or deep fried.
Screw it – we can buy eggs. Peace and quiet is priceless.
Boonie hens are in fact wild chickens, belonging to no one in particular. They roam the island, going wherever they want, usually unbothered by most of the population. The only place where there doesn’t seem to be preponderance of boonie hens is in the tourist areas in Tumon, where all the hotels are at. Every place else on the island, you can hear roosters crowing.
Where I live, they roam through the backyard of my apartment building, and in the evening, roost in the mango trees outside my lanai (yes, they can fly but not far). The Gorgeous One (my wife) has no problems with them because every now and then they will lay eggs on our lanai and she eagerly scoops them up. Fresh eggs are fresh eggs, and free ones are even better, according to her.
My problem is the noise. When I get home after a hard day of toil, I don’t want to hear all of the crowing, especially when the bastards are settling in for the night. Sometimes they make a LOT OF NOISE. The roosters also feel that between the hours of 4-6 AM is a fine time to crow. For a person who is a Chronic Insomniac who values his sleep, this is Not A Good Thing.
I made a casual reference to this problem to my supervisor one day as we were taking a smoke and coffee break. Her answer was pretty simple. “Get yourself a BB gun”, she told me. Since my supervisor is one of those tree hugging animal lovers who regularly volunteers at a local animal shelter and loves all kinds of creatures, I found this answer, coming from her, a little shocking. Seeing the disbelief on my face, she elaborated. “They’re boonie hens. No one will care. Think of them as rats. Just shoot ‘em”. A trip to Kmart and the expenditure of $15 and I was set.
The first night I had the BB gun, it was as if the hens sensed that trouble had come to town, because that evening they decided to be very quiet. A good thing, since I was prepared to kick chicken butt. Alas, the peace would not last long, because the next night, after walking into the apartment with my ass dragging, there arose a serious ruckus from the lanai. Not one but three roosters were raising holy hell out there, and I wasn’t having it.
Grabbing up my trusty Crossman, I headed for the lanai. The first rooster was in the mango tree closest to our lanai, a distance of maybe 10 feet. Now, I can be an asshole whenever I want, but for some reason I didn’t want to kill these birds. Just merely hurry them along to somewhere else. With that in mind, I took aim and shot the first rooster dead in the ass. The BB found its mark, and the bird went apeshit crazy trying to get out of that tree, basically losing its mind. Reload and the next target of opportunity gets a round in its ass. More serious noise as the hens bailed out of those trees. Within 5 minutes, peace and quiet that lasts for maybe 30 seconds.
This time, the noise is coming from The Gorgeous One, who at this moment is not amused. She gets a little mad at me, telling me that the birds are only doing what nature intended them to do. My counterargument is that I have no problem with them doing what comes naturally, as long as they do it Somewhere Else.
Every once in a while I have to remind the birds that the mango trees are Off Limits. Let’s face it, chickens are some of the dumbest animals God ever put on this earth, with a limited amount of short term memory. They eat their own feces and are a pain in the ass. Once in a while, the brutes need to be reminded that there is evil lurking behind the screen door. Marlin Perkins I ain’t, and BB’s are cheap. The only good chicken is one roasted over a fire or deep fried.
Screw it – we can buy eggs. Peace and quiet is priceless.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Legend of the OB Patrol
Sometimes, it’s amazing what memories the mind will present themselves in the foreground of our consciousness. After a lot of years have gone by, I started thinking about a group that I used to be a member of that was very special to me for a lot of different reasons. In that light, let’s take a short trip back through time and visit with some very special people I used to know.
A long time ago (mid 80’s), in a land far, far away (Korea), there were four friends named Bruce, Mike, Wendy, and Troy. These four individuals worked in the same place, and lived in the same barracks. All four were of a certain age, and all were good at their jobs. When they weren’t hard at work defending freedom in the Republic of Korea, they formed the core of an elite drinking unit not often seen in the history of humanity. Collectively, they were known as De Paw or The OB Patrol.
These four shared similar tastes in music and fun, and if you saw one of them, you generally saw all of them. When they were not occupying their normal seats in the infamous and now defunct OB Club, they were out and about terrorizing other bars in the Taegu metropolitan area. They drank like fishes, stayed out until the wee hours of the morning, and laughed constantly. The humor was never what anyone would call politically correct, although none of it was ever vicious.
Each of these individuals was a little different than the others, but in spite of those differences, they formed a friendship, a bond, that some people failed to understand. Their First Sergeant was both amused and annoyed by their antics, although deep down he knew that the mischief they caused was merely harmless fun. The trouble they caused was never serious, and they always kept him guessing about what they would do next.
The night when Troy was on Charge of Quarters and had to bail the other three out of jail for taunting the military police with calls of “Book ‘em Danno” as they charged out the gates swinging open bottles of whiskey. The Halloween when Mike and Troy, after getting thrown out of the Hollywood Club, stole every single beer glass the club owned out of their storage area. The infamous “Pool Party”, where the four of them bought a childs wading pool, filled it with water, then sat around it drinking “Jungle Juciea”, a vile liquid that was approximately 95% alcohol. ”Table Surfing” at the OB Club. Thunder runs. Bruce’s physical training test, where Bruce completed his two-mile run and proceeded to puke approximately 50 gallons of beer into the potted plants in front of the Post Chapel.
These incidents, and many more like them, made these intrepid warriors Legends in Their Own Time.
And so much for my attempt at spinning a magical story.
Bruce, Mike and Wendy were my best friends. Back in those days, we were pretty much inseparable, and closer than brothers and sisters. In the 23 years since we parted ways, I’ve come to realize that they were probably the best friends I’ve had in my life up until now. Throughout the years, when life has thrown me some curves or has decided to shit all over me, my mind would sometimes think of them, and regardless of the circumstances, I would have to smile. We were all young and little crazy, and got into some situations that I still can’t believe we made it through without going to jail or getting our asses kicked.
Thanks to social networking sites, three of the four of us have reconnected, and I’m looking for the fourth. We’re now learning about what the others have been up to in the past quarter century. For me, I think it’s cool to reconnect with old and dear friends, and see what direction their lives have taken. We’ve all gone down different paths, but from what I have gotten from Bruce and Mike, all of us look back on those times with fondness. Crazy,fun times, but also very special.
The OB Patrol: Too Hip – Gotta Go.
Out in the Provinces
As I may have mentioned before, my in-laws live in the provinces in Central Luzon. Meaning that they live out in the country, surrounded by rice fields. While they are only 10 minutes away from a major city, it feels like you are totally out in the sticks. Some people would have a problem with this, but I happen to like it a lot. I normally use my visits there to reconnect with people I really like and to relax completely.
The speed of life is a lot slower, the stress levels are different. A different vibe completely.
There are some things that I really love about where they live and some that I find bizarre.
Getting Blessed: Filipino’s have this custom where upon meeting someone or seeing friends or relatives, if you are younger than someone you take their right hand and touch it to your forehead. Sort of a sign of respect. When I do it to an older person, people really dig it, like I’m making an effort to fit in. On the first day of this last visit, I was sitting on the terrace hanging out and all of the kids came up to get blessed, grabbing my hand and touching it to their foreheads. After about 10 minutes of this, I felt like Don Corelone. They also do it right after Mass lets out, for some strange reason. It’s a sign of respect to the elders, and people tend to get a kick out of it when I get blessed from them.
Fast Food: In the case of where my wife’s family lives, it comes to you, sometimes right to your door. The normal system of delivery is on the back of a bicycle, where the various hawkers will ride past your house shouting out what they are selling. You simply stop them and purchase what you want. All of it is cheap, and all of it is good. My personal favorite is the pan de sal lady. For those of you who don’t know what it is, pan de sal’s are bread, similar to dinner rolls, a little chewy on the outside, usually still warm. They are my breakfast of choice along with a cup of coffee, and a dozen of the things can be bought for less than a buck. They’re amazing. Steamed corn-on-the-cob is also a favorite, served nice and hot. Later in the day, the ice cream guys roll by, selling soft serve off the back of a bike. And of course, there is the balut guy. Balut is a fermented duck egg with the partially formed duck embryo inside, a Filipino delicacy that everyone in my wife’s family tries to get me to eat and I refuse to get near. The smell alone grosses me out.
Visiting, Country Style: Since everyone in my wife’s village knows everyone or is somehow related to each other, we generally go visiting. Walk to someone’s house, sit and bullshit for a while, catch up on the latest rumors and gossip, move on. Usually the visitor will get offered soft drinks or something to munch on. My wife has an aunt who loves to feed me mochi and other tasty goodies. Even though I don’t speak the language, it’s still fun. I get treated well and rarely feel like an outsider, even though I’m the only white boy within several miles of the place. I’m accepted, usually referred to as Daddy Troy.
Family: When it comes to family relationships, Americans and Filipino’s have a completely different outlook on things. In most American families, most of us aren’t that close to our first cousins, and many of us don’t even know who are second cousins are. Not so in a Filipino family. They know their entire family, including second cousins, on a first name basis. They also know their children and pretty much everything about them. Since most Filipino’s out in the provinces have huge families, it would seem to me that keeping up with all of this information would be really difficult, but they pull it off. When my wife starts chatting about this family member or that one, I usually just nod and pretend to know who the hell she is talking about. Most of the time, unless it happens to be a brother or sister or someone that I have actually met more than once, I have no clue who she is referring to. Or, the wife will throw up clues if I have the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. “Remember Auntie Mae, the one who made you the fried noodles?” That’s usually when recognition kicks in.
Videoke: Most Filipinos I know are insane about videoke and karaoke. For special occasions, you can actually rent a machine and have it delivered to your house. On this last trip, Assholus Maximus’s (one of my brother-in-laws that I loathe) had a birthday and rented a machine. It got set up in the back of his house, and all of his friends sat around singing and drinking Red Horse (which I refer to as Caballo Diablo (Devil Horse) Beer. Since I have a hard time being around him and some of his asshole friends, I chose not to participate. Since Arnel Pineda became the front man for the band Journey, you can always expect to hear the same two or three Journey songs sung repeatedly and badly. That is one reason I feel that the new president of the Philippines’s first act in office should be to ban the sale and use of videoke machines.
Like I said, it’s a hell of a lot of fun to go there, in spite of some of the bullshit that usually happens with my in-laws.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Sunday Morning Gibberish
Random gibberish, for no particular reason other than the fact that it’s 6 AM on a Sunday morning and I can’t sleep.
- The other day I had a sit down meeting with my supervisor, which is pretty rare. Most of the time, we only talk about what needs to be done and we leave each other alone. It’s not that we don’t like each other. Quite the contrary. It’s safe to say that I love the woman dearly. She’s more like family than a supervisor. The fact us that she’s incredibly busy and I don’t want to waste her time. I try to give her as much information as possible on what I am doing, get the feedback I need from her, and drive on. For the personal stuff, we stand around over cigarettes and coffee and bullshit with each other, but for work stuff we do drive bys, which I have no problem with and I think she appreciates.
One of the things that she mentioned during the brief sit-down meeting is that one of the upper managers told her that she feels that I and a few other people in my department are overpaid. These are the same people who are trying to drive my supervisor out of her position, trying to make her quit. At first when I was told that they felt I was overpaid I was pissed off. After about an hour, I realized that I just had to laugh about it. I’m one of those guys who comes in early and tries not to bitch much about things, so hearing that statement showed exactly how out of touch with reality some of the senior managers are.
The people in my department work insane hours, get called to work on stuff on their own time & are constantly looking for ways to make things better, but get treated by upper management like shit. I just keep repeating my mantra for 2010 (“When All Else Fails – S.T.F.U.”) and keep driving on.
- Spaghetti O’s for breakfast? Why the hell not? Sounds like quality nutrition to me.
- It has been a week since I left the Philippines and the wife. You would think that after living by my own self for nearly 3 years before The Gorgeous One arrived here that I could easily transition back into being by myself again, but you would be wrong. After 7 months of marriage, a guy gets used to certain little things in day to day life. Struggling with sleep, and a few other issues as well. Needless to say, I miss her a lot. Aside from the fact that I can now smoke in the bathroom while taking a dump, it sucks that she’s not here. I miss her physical presence, if that makes any sense. We talked last night, and it’s looking like the end of March before she will be back. Surgery is tentatively scheduled for early March, with a couple of weeks of recovery at her mom’s house. She has one more test that has to be done before the surgery, but it can’t be done until the first week of March. Wish she was here right now.
- Watched two movies yesterday that I would like to mention. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is a funny movie, just not nearly as funny as the book it’s based off of. Facing Ali is great if you are even a minor fan of boxing. In this flick, 10 different boxers talk about what it was like to fight Muhammad Ali. Really well done flick.
- One of the benefits of the medication that my dermatologist has me taking is the dreams I’ve been having. They’re vivid and pleasant and sometimes a little weird. One involved meeting singer Ann Wilson from Heart, standing outside by the back of a pickup truck, talking. Cool but bizarre. The other involved me winning the lottery, $4.5 million, and what actions would take place immediately following said win. The moving of money around to my daughter and other family members, the plans I would put into action, ways to sneak large bundles of cash onto an airplane.
Naturally, after having the last dream, I had to play the lottery yesterday. Naturally I didn’t win shit. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it can sure as hell lease it.
More later - my Spaghetti O’s are getting cold.
- The other day I had a sit down meeting with my supervisor, which is pretty rare. Most of the time, we only talk about what needs to be done and we leave each other alone. It’s not that we don’t like each other. Quite the contrary. It’s safe to say that I love the woman dearly. She’s more like family than a supervisor. The fact us that she’s incredibly busy and I don’t want to waste her time. I try to give her as much information as possible on what I am doing, get the feedback I need from her, and drive on. For the personal stuff, we stand around over cigarettes and coffee and bullshit with each other, but for work stuff we do drive bys, which I have no problem with and I think she appreciates.
One of the things that she mentioned during the brief sit-down meeting is that one of the upper managers told her that she feels that I and a few other people in my department are overpaid. These are the same people who are trying to drive my supervisor out of her position, trying to make her quit. At first when I was told that they felt I was overpaid I was pissed off. After about an hour, I realized that I just had to laugh about it. I’m one of those guys who comes in early and tries not to bitch much about things, so hearing that statement showed exactly how out of touch with reality some of the senior managers are.
The people in my department work insane hours, get called to work on stuff on their own time & are constantly looking for ways to make things better, but get treated by upper management like shit. I just keep repeating my mantra for 2010 (“When All Else Fails – S.T.F.U.”) and keep driving on.
- Spaghetti O’s for breakfast? Why the hell not? Sounds like quality nutrition to me.
- It has been a week since I left the Philippines and the wife. You would think that after living by my own self for nearly 3 years before The Gorgeous One arrived here that I could easily transition back into being by myself again, but you would be wrong. After 7 months of marriage, a guy gets used to certain little things in day to day life. Struggling with sleep, and a few other issues as well. Needless to say, I miss her a lot. Aside from the fact that I can now smoke in the bathroom while taking a dump, it sucks that she’s not here. I miss her physical presence, if that makes any sense. We talked last night, and it’s looking like the end of March before she will be back. Surgery is tentatively scheduled for early March, with a couple of weeks of recovery at her mom’s house. She has one more test that has to be done before the surgery, but it can’t be done until the first week of March. Wish she was here right now.
- Watched two movies yesterday that I would like to mention. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is a funny movie, just not nearly as funny as the book it’s based off of. Facing Ali is great if you are even a minor fan of boxing. In this flick, 10 different boxers talk about what it was like to fight Muhammad Ali. Really well done flick.
- One of the benefits of the medication that my dermatologist has me taking is the dreams I’ve been having. They’re vivid and pleasant and sometimes a little weird. One involved meeting singer Ann Wilson from Heart, standing outside by the back of a pickup truck, talking. Cool but bizarre. The other involved me winning the lottery, $4.5 million, and what actions would take place immediately following said win. The moving of money around to my daughter and other family members, the plans I would put into action, ways to sneak large bundles of cash onto an airplane.
Naturally, after having the last dream, I had to play the lottery yesterday. Naturally I didn’t win shit. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it can sure as hell lease it.
More later - my Spaghetti O’s are getting cold.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Bernie Meets Thrash Metal Boy
The following is a story of sorts that could only happen to me. If I was from the Deep South, it would begin with “ya’ll ain’t gonna believe this shit”, but since I’m not, it won’t.
It is, however, a True Story.
The Wife and I had an incident happen this past Monday that was both a little strange and weird at the same time, but in the long run made me laugh. Before I can get fully into it, let me introduce you to my brother-in-law Bernie.
Bernie is a rice farmer, and lives in a two room house deep in the provinces of Central Luzon in the Philippines. He works from sun up to sun down taking care of his rice crop, and because of his occupation, he’s built like someone who is not a stranger to hard physical labor. The man is thin but what there is of him is solid, strong, hard. While he is absolutely no one you would want to mess with, he’s also a hell of a lot of fun to be around. Amazing with children, laughs easily, enjoys life. Needless to say, I like and admire the hell out of him.
This past Monday evening, I had to go to Manila to board the plane that brought me back to Guam. The wife was of course going to take me to the airport, and Bernie and his wife wanted to tag along to the big city as well. We took tricycles (motorcycles with sidecars) to the nearby village, rode a Jeepney for a couple of miles, and eventually boarded the bus that took us all out of the provinces into Manila.
The trip was uneventful until we got into Manila. Wife and I talked and held on to each other, getting ready to deal with being temporarily separated while she undergoes continuing medical treatment. Bernie and his wife were also using it as a time to be somewhat alone, to talk and just hang out together.
The bus arrived at Cubao Station in central Manila, and from there we all got in the taxi that would take us out to the airport. The plan was to drop me off, then The Wife, Bernie and his wife would head back out to the provinces. My wife does this because she worries about me going to Manila by myself, which is both a little annoying and touchingly sweet at the same time.
It started getting weird when we got into the taxi that would take us from Cubao Station to the airport. Our driver was a young guy who happened to like what could be called thrash metal or death metal music. In fact, he liked it so much that he was singing along with the CD that he was playing, oblivious to the four middle aged passengers he was taking to the airport. Now I’m a fan of all types of music, but this sounded more like shouting than singing, so I was a little bit annoyed. I kept my peace, focusing on the last remaining moments I would be able to spend with my wife for the next month-six weeks.
We finally end up at the airport, and all of us jump out of the taxi. My wife takes note of the amount on the meter, and tips the driver an additional 25% on top of the fare, just because she has a good heart and knows that people work hard. This is in spite of the annoyance that Thrash Metal Boy caused us with his choice of music and the horrible singing along to his little ditties of death and hate.
Apparently, a 25% tip was displeasing to Thrash Metal Boy, because he said something I could not understand to my wife. At that moment, I started easing my way between my wife and the asshole in question, seeing if he had enough nerve to say to me whatever the hell it was he was saying to my wife. While I am not a violent person by nature, insulting my wife is not a good way to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I was more than fully prepared to get White Boy Crazy on his ass if I had to, even if it meant missing my flight to have my foot removed from his ass.
It was at that moment that Bernie stepped in front of me and got within about 18 inches of this retarded taxi drivers face. He said something that I didn’t understand in Tagalog to the driver, a short simple phrase, stated very softly but in a tone that didn’t require translation. It was at that very moment that Thrash Metal Boy realized that he was in some rather serious danger, turned around and walked back to his taxi and left.
After I said my goodbyes to Bernie and his wife, the wife and I had our goodbye. It was then that I asked her what exactly Bernie had said to the driver. She told me “He told him to just walk away.”
Just walk away. A simple phrase that at that moment meant “Just walk away or be prepared to meet God in the very near future.”
For some reason, I couldn’t stop laughing, and five days later still find it amusing as hell.
It is, however, a True Story.
The Wife and I had an incident happen this past Monday that was both a little strange and weird at the same time, but in the long run made me laugh. Before I can get fully into it, let me introduce you to my brother-in-law Bernie.
Bernie is a rice farmer, and lives in a two room house deep in the provinces of Central Luzon in the Philippines. He works from sun up to sun down taking care of his rice crop, and because of his occupation, he’s built like someone who is not a stranger to hard physical labor. The man is thin but what there is of him is solid, strong, hard. While he is absolutely no one you would want to mess with, he’s also a hell of a lot of fun to be around. Amazing with children, laughs easily, enjoys life. Needless to say, I like and admire the hell out of him.
This past Monday evening, I had to go to Manila to board the plane that brought me back to Guam. The wife was of course going to take me to the airport, and Bernie and his wife wanted to tag along to the big city as well. We took tricycles (motorcycles with sidecars) to the nearby village, rode a Jeepney for a couple of miles, and eventually boarded the bus that took us all out of the provinces into Manila.
The trip was uneventful until we got into Manila. Wife and I talked and held on to each other, getting ready to deal with being temporarily separated while she undergoes continuing medical treatment. Bernie and his wife were also using it as a time to be somewhat alone, to talk and just hang out together.
The bus arrived at Cubao Station in central Manila, and from there we all got in the taxi that would take us out to the airport. The plan was to drop me off, then The Wife, Bernie and his wife would head back out to the provinces. My wife does this because she worries about me going to Manila by myself, which is both a little annoying and touchingly sweet at the same time.
It started getting weird when we got into the taxi that would take us from Cubao Station to the airport. Our driver was a young guy who happened to like what could be called thrash metal or death metal music. In fact, he liked it so much that he was singing along with the CD that he was playing, oblivious to the four middle aged passengers he was taking to the airport. Now I’m a fan of all types of music, but this sounded more like shouting than singing, so I was a little bit annoyed. I kept my peace, focusing on the last remaining moments I would be able to spend with my wife for the next month-six weeks.
We finally end up at the airport, and all of us jump out of the taxi. My wife takes note of the amount on the meter, and tips the driver an additional 25% on top of the fare, just because she has a good heart and knows that people work hard. This is in spite of the annoyance that Thrash Metal Boy caused us with his choice of music and the horrible singing along to his little ditties of death and hate.
Apparently, a 25% tip was displeasing to Thrash Metal Boy, because he said something I could not understand to my wife. At that moment, I started easing my way between my wife and the asshole in question, seeing if he had enough nerve to say to me whatever the hell it was he was saying to my wife. While I am not a violent person by nature, insulting my wife is not a good way to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I was more than fully prepared to get White Boy Crazy on his ass if I had to, even if it meant missing my flight to have my foot removed from his ass.
It was at that moment that Bernie stepped in front of me and got within about 18 inches of this retarded taxi drivers face. He said something that I didn’t understand in Tagalog to the driver, a short simple phrase, stated very softly but in a tone that didn’t require translation. It was at that very moment that Thrash Metal Boy realized that he was in some rather serious danger, turned around and walked back to his taxi and left.
After I said my goodbyes to Bernie and his wife, the wife and I had our goodbye. It was then that I asked her what exactly Bernie had said to the driver. She told me “He told him to just walk away.”
Just walk away. A simple phrase that at that moment meant “Just walk away or be prepared to meet God in the very near future.”
For some reason, I couldn’t stop laughing, and five days later still find it amusing as hell.
The PI Trip
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, so I thought I’d throw a few words out here in the ether and update all on this thing I call My Life.
I returned from the Philippines on early Tuesday morning, after spending 10 days there with The Wife (a.k.a. The Gorgeous One) and those wacky folks known as The In-Laws. The purpose of the trip was because The Gorgeous One had medical appointments in Manila at St. Luke’s Hospital, in order to try to get a problem she has corrected for once and for all. Instead of boring everyone (including myself) with all the day-to-day minutia of the trip, let me just throw out the highlights and lowlights.
-Because the medical treatment facilities here on Guam aren’t what you call state of the art, we were referred to St. Luke’s by The Wife’s doctor and the insurance company. Let me just state for the record that St. Luke’s is a kick-ass hospital, one of the best I’ve ever been in. They treated and continue to treat The Gorgeous One really well. Because my wife’s family lives fairly close to Manila, we were commuting back and forth every other day from her families’ compound by bus instead of staying in Manila. While my in-laws live out in the country, the hospital was only about 90 minutes away.
-Last week, the wife had a test where they put an IV into her and inject die, then scan her. It’s called a full contrast CT scan. One of the side effects we were told about was that she may develop a rash. Two days after the test, The Gorgeous One woke up with a head to toe rash. After contacting the hospital and being told that the rash would have happened almost immediately and not a couple of days later, we went to see a local dermatologist. I say “we” because for a couple of weeks before going there, I had been suffering from some skin problems of my own. Turns out that The Gorgeous One had somehow contracted German measles, and I have the human equivalent of scabies. We’re both getting better, except that I now have to bathe with a soap made from coal tar, and had to shave my head.
-The Wife is still in the Philippines, and will be for at least another four to six weeks. She will be having surgery sometime in the next 10 days or so to finally correct the problem that she has. I only wish that I could have stayed through the surgery, but I don’t have enough vacation time stashed away. She will be well taken care of by her many sisters, and once the surgery is completed she’s only expected to remain in the hospital for a couple of days.
-When we weren’t dealing with The Medical Profession, we spent a lot of time hanging out with my in-laws. Like a lot of Filipino families, my wife has a lot of relatives. Most of them are cool, some are slightly irritating, and they have their fair share of complete assholes as well. The second Saturday we were there, one of her brothers decided that it would be a fine idea to get drunk and start trouble for no particular reason. This did not sit well with my bride, and it took massive amounts of self control on my part not to punch him back to the Middle Ages.
-We also had issues with one of her sisters and the idiot that she’s married to. The Gorgeous One has been supporting these two and their kids for countless years, because Idiot Boy has a hard time staying employed, and one of their daughters has some major health issues. It’s at the point now where Her Wifeliness has told them that, while she will continue to pay for the daughter’s medication (approximately US $10 per month), they should expect to not receive more than that until they remove their heads from their asses. It should be said that while my wife has the patience of a saint, she also has her limit as well.
-The trip was also good for us as a couple. We got to spend a lot of time just sitting around talking and enjoying each other’s company in a relaxed mode and not dealing with the mundane day to day bullshit that we all have to deal with. We hung out with her family, many of whom I like a lot, ate massive amounts of great food, drank a few cold adult beverages, and generally had a good time. My bronchitis went completely away, and while I ate a lot I actually lost 10 pounds, thus curing the horrible snoring that the Gorgeous One had to put up with.
All in all, a good trip. I’m back here on Guam by me own self, and once the wife’s surgery is completed, she will rejoin me here. I miss her terribly, but this is one of those things that we will come out far ahead on in the long run.
More stories later, including ones about the cabbie that almost lost his life, The Talkative Grandma, and bad parenting at its finest.
I returned from the Philippines on early Tuesday morning, after spending 10 days there with The Wife (a.k.a. The Gorgeous One) and those wacky folks known as The In-Laws. The purpose of the trip was because The Gorgeous One had medical appointments in Manila at St. Luke’s Hospital, in order to try to get a problem she has corrected for once and for all. Instead of boring everyone (including myself) with all the day-to-day minutia of the trip, let me just throw out the highlights and lowlights.
-Because the medical treatment facilities here on Guam aren’t what you call state of the art, we were referred to St. Luke’s by The Wife’s doctor and the insurance company. Let me just state for the record that St. Luke’s is a kick-ass hospital, one of the best I’ve ever been in. They treated and continue to treat The Gorgeous One really well. Because my wife’s family lives fairly close to Manila, we were commuting back and forth every other day from her families’ compound by bus instead of staying in Manila. While my in-laws live out in the country, the hospital was only about 90 minutes away.
-Last week, the wife had a test where they put an IV into her and inject die, then scan her. It’s called a full contrast CT scan. One of the side effects we were told about was that she may develop a rash. Two days after the test, The Gorgeous One woke up with a head to toe rash. After contacting the hospital and being told that the rash would have happened almost immediately and not a couple of days later, we went to see a local dermatologist. I say “we” because for a couple of weeks before going there, I had been suffering from some skin problems of my own. Turns out that The Gorgeous One had somehow contracted German measles, and I have the human equivalent of scabies. We’re both getting better, except that I now have to bathe with a soap made from coal tar, and had to shave my head.
-The Wife is still in the Philippines, and will be for at least another four to six weeks. She will be having surgery sometime in the next 10 days or so to finally correct the problem that she has. I only wish that I could have stayed through the surgery, but I don’t have enough vacation time stashed away. She will be well taken care of by her many sisters, and once the surgery is completed she’s only expected to remain in the hospital for a couple of days.
-When we weren’t dealing with The Medical Profession, we spent a lot of time hanging out with my in-laws. Like a lot of Filipino families, my wife has a lot of relatives. Most of them are cool, some are slightly irritating, and they have their fair share of complete assholes as well. The second Saturday we were there, one of her brothers decided that it would be a fine idea to get drunk and start trouble for no particular reason. This did not sit well with my bride, and it took massive amounts of self control on my part not to punch him back to the Middle Ages.
-We also had issues with one of her sisters and the idiot that she’s married to. The Gorgeous One has been supporting these two and their kids for countless years, because Idiot Boy has a hard time staying employed, and one of their daughters has some major health issues. It’s at the point now where Her Wifeliness has told them that, while she will continue to pay for the daughter’s medication (approximately US $10 per month), they should expect to not receive more than that until they remove their heads from their asses. It should be said that while my wife has the patience of a saint, she also has her limit as well.
-The trip was also good for us as a couple. We got to spend a lot of time just sitting around talking and enjoying each other’s company in a relaxed mode and not dealing with the mundane day to day bullshit that we all have to deal with. We hung out with her family, many of whom I like a lot, ate massive amounts of great food, drank a few cold adult beverages, and generally had a good time. My bronchitis went completely away, and while I ate a lot I actually lost 10 pounds, thus curing the horrible snoring that the Gorgeous One had to put up with.
All in all, a good trip. I’m back here on Guam by me own self, and once the wife’s surgery is completed, she will rejoin me here. I miss her terribly, but this is one of those things that we will come out far ahead on in the long run.
More stories later, including ones about the cabbie that almost lost his life, The Talkative Grandma, and bad parenting at its finest.
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