This is kalroy.
From Blogthings, www.blogthings.com
You Know You're From Hawaii When...
You can understand and speak PIDGIN english.
You go to dinner and "make one plate" with all the extra food leftover.
You automatically take off your shoes in people's homes.
You wear rubber slippers to the beach.
You eat rice every single day.
It's "shave ice" not"snow cones".
When you know NEVER to turn your back facing the ocean.
You know what ukus are and have had them at least once before when you was one little keiki.
You've been to almost all of the other islands.
You get impatient with all of those bikers on the road that came from Haleakala.
When someone says to "dress up" it means one nice aloha shirt and jeans.
You eat coconuts straight from the shell - and drink the juice.
You went to the War Memorial Stadium parking lot to learn how to drive.
You've worked in the pineapple fields.
You know where all the creepy places (like burial sites) are in the island.
You know you aren't supposed to whistle at night time, cross your chopsticks, or stick your fork straight out of your rice.
You have highlighted hair.
You eat Arare.
You know what "tutu" means.
You learned to play the ukulele in elementary school.
It's SHOYU, not soy sauce.
To you, sushi means sushi, not RAW FISH!
You eat malasadas.
You have a billion pairs of slippers in front your door when your family gets together.
Your house has residue from the salty ocean air.
You eat portuguese sausage, eggs, and rice for breakfast.
You buy large quantities of toilet paper in case there’s a longshoreman strike.
You don't understand why anyone would buy less than a 20 lb bag of rice...
You would serve spam as a meat for dinner...
You can taste the difference between teriyaki and kal-bi.
You know why there are alphabets on trees on graduation day.
You know what lei day is.
You know what the "stink eye" is; and how to give it.
You can correctly pronouce kalanianaole, kalakaua and aiea.
You know what a "Huli Huli Chicken" is.
You can name 3 varieties of mangos.
You know the difference between being hapa and being hapai.
You give directions using mauka and makai.
You know what it takes to get into kamehameha school.
You say, "Nori" not seaweed paper.
You say "Brah" not "Bro".
You know why Sharks Cove is called Sharks Cove.
Your jokes are about Portugese not Polish.
You know what "Morgan's Corner " is ... (And it still scares you!).
You think 70 degrees is freezing cold. You call it "saimin" not "Top Ramen."
The surf report is on your speed dial...
Rainbow Drive-Inn is a special date.
You know pineapples don't grow in trees.
When you hear the words "fund raiser", you know it means Zippy's Chili.
You have said "wat, owe you money?", "karang your alas", or "dakine".
You call public transportation "da BUS."
You go to Neiman Marcus "jus fo look."
The mainland people no can understand your language.
You eat mango with shoyu, vinegar, and pepper.
You like ume, daikon, and kim chee better than pickles.
You never understood why adding pineapple and ham to a pizza made it Hawaiian to the rest of the world.
You have a separate circuit breaker for your rice cooker.(Or should.)
You measure the water for the rice by the knuckle of your index finger.
The condiments at the dinner table are shoyu, ketchup, chili peppah watah, kimchee, takuwan, Hawaiian salt and pickled onion.
You go to Maui and your luggage home includes potato chips, manju, cream puffs, guri-guri and fresh saimin from Sam Sato's.
A balanced meal has three starches: rice, macaroni and bread.
You call everyone older than you "Aunty" or "Uncle" even though they aren't related to you.
Your philosophy is "Bumbai".
You are barefoot in most of you elementary school pictures.
Your only suit is a bathing suit.
You drive barefoot.
You feel guilt leaving a get-together without helping clean up.
The idea of taking something from a heiau is unthinkable.
You'd rather drag out the compressor and fill that leaking tire every single morning than have it fixed.
The only time you honk your horn is once a year during the safety check.
You can live and let live with a smile in your heart.
Nobody is sure exactly where "north" is.
Your cousin is Japanese-Chinese-French-Filipino-Korean-Scottish-Portuguese-Hawaiian, plus some stuff too manini to mention.
You watch your favorite shows "on top the TV."
The best cooks all use lots of mayonnaise.
An approaching hurricane means only one thing – surf's up, brah!
"You like beef" has nothing to do with what's for dinner.
Beans are the perfect condiment for ice cream.
You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Hawaii.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
The name's Drack. Draconis Arrowatch Arandis. I've been a gumshoe for over 10,000 years, and I've only had one normal day's work. It was a Thursday. But this isn't Thursday. It's Friday, and my Friday’s are not normal. The dame walking by the window was going to make sure of it. I had a chicken in the oven, and was waiting for dinner when the door bell rang. I kicked the door on my way past, and it swung open, revealing a pretty little number in a fancy little dress. Her make-up said class, her hat said money, and her eyes said trouble. I swore under my breath, and lowered my hat so I wouldn’t notice those gray blue eyes.
"You’re a P.I., and I need your help."
"Really? I thought I was a deli worker, and needed your help with today's special."
Without missing a beat, “Today’s special is murder, with a side of intrigue.”
“And why are you coming to me with this?”
“Because the police came up empty, and nobody else will take my case.”
“I’ll take it.”
This time she did miss a beat. In fact, she missed quite a few. I could hear the clock ticking away in the background, and I thought I would have to break the silence she spoke.
“Just like that? You don’t know what the problem is…”
She went on like this for about 5 minutes, the clock ticking all the while. I figured my food was almost ready when I interrupted her.
“You wouldn’t have come to me if one of the others will take it, and if I won’t take it, then no one will. So I figure I’ll look into it. It may even be fun. But you can tell me about it over dinner. I have a room upstairs, and some more comfortable clothes in the closet I keep in the event it’s unsafe for a client to stay anywhere else. Dinner will be in 10 minutes, so please don’t be late.”
I was feeling very smug by that time, and I whirled out of the room, and gestured up the stairs. She was half way up the stairs when I burnt my hand to my elbow, and let a litany of curses fly. Her light giggle pissed me even farther. But the chicken was perfect, and I figured things can’t be too bad… I would come to regret thinking this.
I had the table set for two, and it was a nice little dinner. She was dressed simply, revealing how truly beautiful she was. She had changed into a skirt in the far corner of the closet, one I thought I’d never see again. A nice white blouse commented it perfectly. Her face was nice, and her eyes were still beautiful. The clothes she was wearing showed her figure off better then the tight dress earlier. I was speechless, the first time in many years. I came to just in time for her to notice.
“I’m sorry, but it my good white wine ran out awhile ago and I haven’t stocked any more. I’ve only got your choice of scotch, white grape juice, and some Pepsi I will never drink.”
“The scotch, please. I may need it by the end of dinner.”
Halfway through the meal, she broke the silence that had settled.
“My best friend, Miranda Nogumi is dead. Her husband Yoshiro Her Mother and father are dead. Her sisters, aunt and uncle, and her niece, they are all dead. Only Yoshiro’s brother Musashi is alive. And I’m worried for him; he’s already been attacked several times. The perpetrators are the Vatelli family, but the police won’t do anything. The police are as afraid as Musashi.”
The Vatelli family. The biggest crime syndicate in history. Headed up by Nikky Vatelli, they have their hands in every cookie jar in the world. There isn’t a single government, company, or even mercenary army that isn’t either bribed or afraid of the Vatelli family. Their name sends shudders in the spine of every good souled man and woman save a few.
Musashi Nogumi was one of those people. He’d been staging vigilante raids, single handedly assassinating the big guns, and hampering the Vatelli family for about 17 years. They had put a price on his head. Apparently this dame didn’t realize that more people had taken a shot at Musashi then me, and almost as many have died trying. I thought I should break the news gently.
“Except for Musashi being afraid, duh. He’s be-“
She cut me off, saying “I know what he’s done, but that’s not all. Musashi has disappeared. And it’s obvious the Vatelli family had nothing to do with it, his house is still standing, and the light bulbs are missing. It was his sign to me that he is hiding.”
“That’s nice. But what do you want me to do. If I pry into his whereabouts the Vatelli family will find out. They hate me more then Musashi, and I don’t even try to get their goat.”
“Anything. Cause trouble, stir up old resentment, but please. You have to save Musashi, or find out where he is. I have money, I have weapons, I have anything you need. They say you’ve been in this town forever. That you can do anything.”
I would have blushed if I hadn’t been so worried over accepting the job already. The dinner progressed quietly as I mulled over the details of what this meant. Having no details, I spent the time making some.
It was obvious that there was something major she wasn’t telling me. I stepped outside for a breather. I spotted a couple across the street staring a little too intently. And the man with the gun on the roof was taking aim. I stepped back inside. I saw her looking at a painting of a tan roman centurion and a shapely lady.
“This man looks just like you. This painting is obviously authentic. Who is this man? Is he your ancestor?”
I closed my eyes.
“Her name was Helena. That centurion is me. Helena was my wife. That was along time ago.”
I remembered that day. It was obvious she didn’t believe me. I didn’t care…
“Your staying here tonight. The room you found the clothes in is where you will stay. There are men outside, watching the place. There is a guy on the roof of the building across the way. There is no way for you to leave. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, so stay here. There is food in the fridge and right half of the basement. You’ll be safe here, so long as you don’t go outside, or annoy my friend. I’ll tell him you’re here, and he’ll make breakfast. I hope you like cereal.”
She was taken by surprise by all of the news. She turned a bright red when she realized I ordered her to stay here. I cut her off before she could say anything.
“Your name.”
“What?”
“I figure I should know your name if I am going to take your case. And if your going to be in my house. Should have told me earlier…”
“Jessica. My name is Jessica York.”
"You’re a P.I., and I need your help."
"Really? I thought I was a deli worker, and needed your help with today's special."
Without missing a beat, “Today’s special is murder, with a side of intrigue.”
“And why are you coming to me with this?”
“Because the police came up empty, and nobody else will take my case.”
“I’ll take it.”
This time she did miss a beat. In fact, she missed quite a few. I could hear the clock ticking away in the background, and I thought I would have to break the silence she spoke.
“Just like that? You don’t know what the problem is…”
She went on like this for about 5 minutes, the clock ticking all the while. I figured my food was almost ready when I interrupted her.
“You wouldn’t have come to me if one of the others will take it, and if I won’t take it, then no one will. So I figure I’ll look into it. It may even be fun. But you can tell me about it over dinner. I have a room upstairs, and some more comfortable clothes in the closet I keep in the event it’s unsafe for a client to stay anywhere else. Dinner will be in 10 minutes, so please don’t be late.”
I was feeling very smug by that time, and I whirled out of the room, and gestured up the stairs. She was half way up the stairs when I burnt my hand to my elbow, and let a litany of curses fly. Her light giggle pissed me even farther. But the chicken was perfect, and I figured things can’t be too bad… I would come to regret thinking this.
I had the table set for two, and it was a nice little dinner. She was dressed simply, revealing how truly beautiful she was. She had changed into a skirt in the far corner of the closet, one I thought I’d never see again. A nice white blouse commented it perfectly. Her face was nice, and her eyes were still beautiful. The clothes she was wearing showed her figure off better then the tight dress earlier. I was speechless, the first time in many years. I came to just in time for her to notice.
“I’m sorry, but it my good white wine ran out awhile ago and I haven’t stocked any more. I’ve only got your choice of scotch, white grape juice, and some Pepsi I will never drink.”
“The scotch, please. I may need it by the end of dinner.”
Halfway through the meal, she broke the silence that had settled.
“My best friend, Miranda Nogumi is dead. Her husband Yoshiro Her Mother and father are dead. Her sisters, aunt and uncle, and her niece, they are all dead. Only Yoshiro’s brother Musashi is alive. And I’m worried for him; he’s already been attacked several times. The perpetrators are the Vatelli family, but the police won’t do anything. The police are as afraid as Musashi.”
The Vatelli family. The biggest crime syndicate in history. Headed up by Nikky Vatelli, they have their hands in every cookie jar in the world. There isn’t a single government, company, or even mercenary army that isn’t either bribed or afraid of the Vatelli family. Their name sends shudders in the spine of every good souled man and woman save a few.
Musashi Nogumi was one of those people. He’d been staging vigilante raids, single handedly assassinating the big guns, and hampering the Vatelli family for about 17 years. They had put a price on his head. Apparently this dame didn’t realize that more people had taken a shot at Musashi then me, and almost as many have died trying. I thought I should break the news gently.
“Except for Musashi being afraid, duh. He’s be-“
She cut me off, saying “I know what he’s done, but that’s not all. Musashi has disappeared. And it’s obvious the Vatelli family had nothing to do with it, his house is still standing, and the light bulbs are missing. It was his sign to me that he is hiding.”
“That’s nice. But what do you want me to do. If I pry into his whereabouts the Vatelli family will find out. They hate me more then Musashi, and I don’t even try to get their goat.”
“Anything. Cause trouble, stir up old resentment, but please. You have to save Musashi, or find out where he is. I have money, I have weapons, I have anything you need. They say you’ve been in this town forever. That you can do anything.”
I would have blushed if I hadn’t been so worried over accepting the job already. The dinner progressed quietly as I mulled over the details of what this meant. Having no details, I spent the time making some.
It was obvious that there was something major she wasn’t telling me. I stepped outside for a breather. I spotted a couple across the street staring a little too intently. And the man with the gun on the roof was taking aim. I stepped back inside. I saw her looking at a painting of a tan roman centurion and a shapely lady.
“This man looks just like you. This painting is obviously authentic. Who is this man? Is he your ancestor?”
I closed my eyes.
“Her name was Helena. That centurion is me. Helena was my wife. That was along time ago.”
I remembered that day. It was obvious she didn’t believe me. I didn’t care…
“Your staying here tonight. The room you found the clothes in is where you will stay. There are men outside, watching the place. There is a guy on the roof of the building across the way. There is no way for you to leave. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, so stay here. There is food in the fridge and right half of the basement. You’ll be safe here, so long as you don’t go outside, or annoy my friend. I’ll tell him you’re here, and he’ll make breakfast. I hope you like cereal.”
She was taken by surprise by all of the news. She turned a bright red when she realized I ordered her to stay here. I cut her off before she could say anything.
“Your name.”
“What?”
“I figure I should know your name if I am going to take your case. And if your going to be in my house. Should have told me earlier…”
“Jessica. My name is Jessica York.”
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