Archive for January, 2013

I admit it. I’m pretty proud of this.

Tuesday, January 29th, 2013

I’m insanely busy.

In fact, insane people would go to a level beyond insanity if they had to deal with what’s going on with me right now.

It’s all (mostly) good though.

I am weirdly hitting my stride and finding this strange sweet spot on this island that kind of stuns me a little bit.

I feel really blessed, honestly. There’s a belief here that “Maui” (as if she were a sentient being) embraces you or boots your ass out, or it could be Pele and the others. Regardless, somebody up there likes me and although the pay ain’t so impressive, I am getting (milk money) funded to write funny pieces a la this blog.
So yeah.

The money may suck (balls), but there is a notable audience involved and I get to do what I love (attempt to be funny) so I’m actually freakishly happy about it all.

Anywho, last night I was hanging out with some friends and someone went to a site that I write for to show someone else a piece I did. While there, a headline -

Woman Arrested After Falling Through Ceiling of Police Station -

to be exact, caught their eye.

At first I thought my editor was assigning satirical pieces to someone else and was kinda pissed, but when I realized this ACTUALLY HAPPENED I decided to attempt what a team of a dozen seasoned writers do daily and as a group and with the advantage of bouncing off others and for six figures for David Letterman by myself.

There are some changes here that aren’t mine and that wouldn’t have necessarily been my choice, but my editor was having a bad day – unrelated to me. I am a veritable ray of sunshine. Plus, I’m super grateful he lets me run this stuff at all…no less to such a broad audience – so I decided not to split hairs and here you go. As usual, linked before it’s over because I don’t honestly know if I have legal rights to reprint it.  (???)

Plus, then you can go and leave “fan” comments to counter the guy who called me a “whiny coward” three times over my in-jest Iao Valley hike piece.


It’s called a sense of humor, dude.

Look into it.

Top 10 Excuses for Being in the Ceiling of a Police Station

**Editor’s note: This article is based on yesterday’s story about a woman who was arrested after falling through the ceiling of Kihei Police Station.**

Vanessa Wolf tends to avoid police stations in all ways, shapes, and forms.

By Vanessa Wolf

To the best of our knowledge Nick Nolte has never crashed through the ceiling of a police station, but we envision a similar photo might that ever occur.

It’s always alarming when someone unexpectedly crashes through the ceiling of a police station, and we sincerely hope everything works out for anyone that may have happened to recently.

Still, we can’t help but wonder if maybe there isn’t a perfectly reasonable explanation?

Here are some suggestions for those of you who may find yourself looking up at a cadre of officers after falling through a police station ceiling:

10. “A unicorn double-dog dared me.”

9. “Wait. What? You mean this isn’t a lava tube?”

8. “It’s really hard to meet guys on this island.”

7.  “I get on these mochi benders and… well, you see what happens.” (Mine was, “I haven’t been quite the same since I gave up wheat.”)

6. “Bitches be crazy.”

5. “It’s Obama’s fault.”

For  number four I had, “I was just trying to get some publicity for my blog.”

To see what actually ran, click here

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More Proof I Am Not a Journalist and Other Stuff

Thursday, January 24th, 2013


(Or, if you’re being particularly obnoxious/”Hawaiian” about it) AlooooooooooHA!

My best friend lost her job - and the job provided housing so she is both jobless and homeless now - and is staying with me. Thus, millions of random pictures are being taken all the time when before I simply took pictures of the pets.

My best friend lost her job – and the job provided housing so she is both jobless and homeless now – and is staying with me. Thus, millions of random pictures are being taken all the time whereas before I simply took pictures of the pets. Here I am being faux-outraged last night that the dog is attempting to lick my plate…as if this doesn’t happen daily.

First off, I have good news for you! I am going to do a better job about blogging. Like at least once a week. Scratch that. TWICE a week at least I will blog. Why’s that? you ask.

Well, because I freaking love it, that’s why!

I jest.

I mean, I don’t not love it, it’s just that it’s time-consuming and sometimes really hard to come up with something useful to tell you.

However, I attended this writing conference and kept getting hit over the head by all this “social media is more important than knowing how to spell” advice, and even though I’m exaggerating a bit on the spelling part, the one thing that’s clear is that I somehow have to build a “following” so that when my books are finally freaking published all of you will run out and buy them.

I was also told self-publishing is a bad joke (sorry self-published folks) even including Amazon or eBooks because

a) How do you know Amazon or whomever is being honest with you and really giving you your money? (Yikes! Don’t they already own the world? Do they really need to steal too?)

b) Unless you sell at least 10,000 copies it’s really more an embarrassment or proof that your parents love you (I know my dad is good for a solid 20 copies right off the cuff.) or a display of vanity and likely to be lost in a sea of garbage anyway. People were actually being encouraged to NOT ADMIT they’d self-published. You could sort of feel the shock and shame in the room. I’m too lazy to be self-published, so I just sat there and looked smug.

Anywho, it wasn’t all “you will probably never make it” and “you’re more likely to have sex with the Dalai Lama than see your book with a Penguin logo on it” (although there was a fair amount of that going on), I’m more determined than ever to write something worthy and that people are fighting over the right to publish, so in addition to these new-fangled efforts to build what one of my ex-boyfriends calls my “Legion of Followers” via this blog and I guess my Twitter and god help me, I suppose even Pinterest, I am also going to knuckle down on my fiction. Impossible odds, you say? I can’t help myself. I have a feeling…

In other news, I have been asked to start submitting one “fun” piece a week as part of my A&E writing gig here on Maui.

This is super freaking awesome, because basically it’s what I’d write for you guys…only less vulgar…and it has to be about Maui…and I’m not allowed to say “I” because my editor thinks that’s lazy. (???)

Too bad though, because one of my ideas REQUIRES that it be in first person and that’s how I’m writing it. So there.

Anywho, here is my first installment of the “fun” pieces which mocks all these people who keep trying this ridiculously dangerous four-day hike and getting themselves airlifted out of it.

I’m cutting it off halfway because I’m not entirely sure I have the rights to this even though I wrote it and because I happen to adore said editor and would never want to anger him. He can be quite the sharp-tongued serpent if you catch him on the wrong day.  ;)

Dear Would-Be Olowalu to Iao Hiker




A literary work in which human vice or folly is exposed or criticized through irony, derision, or wit. 

Dear Would-Be Olowalu to Iao Valley Hiker,

It has come to our attention that you keep trying this, despite the preponderance of words like “certain death,” “impossible,” “beyond stupid,” and “Darwin Awards.”

Speaking of which, we can’t help but wonder if the ancient Hawaiians started the tale of this “trail” or “pass” as a means of thinning the herd; a survival of the fittest snipe hunt, if you will.

But we don’t actually know that. All we know is that attempting this hike is a terrible idea. Even “Maui Revealed” doesn’t recommend anyone take a shot at this insanity.

Thus, we are left to draw one conclusion as to your motives, oh intrepid hiker: you are on a suicide mission.

That stated, we offer up some helpful tips.

Not that we want you to die – not at all; in fact, please seek counseling or at least hike something reasonable like Polipoli and get your head on straight – but because we realize it must be disappointing when you hear the chopper overhead and know you’ll live on to see your name featured on this very website.

Plus, we can’t imagine what all these airlift rescues are going to do to our tax rates.

Presuming this is what you seek, and in no particular order, here’s how to ensure you never return from your “mission” to the Iao Valley via the back road.

  1. Water is for cowards. That’s right. We said it. Looking to meet your maker somewhere before the summit? Dehydration is the name of the game.
  2. Wait for several days of intense rain. Nothing says “no body was recovered” like a flash flood.
  3. Get the rest of the list by clicking this link which will take you to the original.


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Monday, January 14th, 2013

This is awesome.

Granted, I have a business card that says “Vanessa Wolf, Journalist,” but that is a gross exaggeration of fact and/or total fiction, depending upon whom you ask. (The assertion, not the card, that is. The card is very real.)

That stated, I think it is completely unfair to use the titles of these blog posts as examples of how “NOT” to craft titles for pieces I write as “news” (although, again, there is “write one fun piece a week” talk going around that also involved the discussion of an opening line about “This is not news.” So there you go.), as

a) I am not a journalist!

b) I suck at titles

c) I don’t particularly care not to suck at titles

d) vagueness is interesting…to me.

e) “Me of Little Faith”: would I read that? Probably. If I knew I wrote it.

Seriously, once in a while someone writes me to comment on how much they loved some ancient post, and I have to go look it up to see what they’re talking about, and more often than not, I’m all, “Damn! I wrote that!? That’s pretty good…”

But I digress…as usual.

Hopefully you guys aren’t coming for the fabulous blog titles anyway, but for the haphazardly timed and hopefully droll material I once and awhile pull myself together to write once in a blue moon.

So anyway, since it’s been a couple weeks since I last updated you, allow me to share my 2013 Resolutions, as publicly posted to Facebook on time.

(Apologies to my parents and any sensitive sorts for #3. It’s kind of an inside joke that you probably don’t want too many details on except to say: thanks for the good genes.)

1. Finish two of the five novels I currently have half-written.
2. Fix The Book Formerly Known As ZION and self-publish that baby.
3. Exercise three times a week and improve my already (allegedly) “magical ass” into something that shrines are built to.
4. Change my name to V-Wo (goes with #3).
5. Stop dating psychopaths.
6. Stop using my bed as a dumping ground for junk mail, dirty clothes, seventeen issues of The New Yorker, dead batteries, dog toys, and empty bottles of wine.
7. Drink less wine and wake up less with that sinking “Did I really…[fill in with something that's probably worse than you think]???” feeling.
8. Believe six impossible things before breakfast.
9. Laugh until my stomach hurts at least once a week.
10. Find something to be grateful for every day.

What isn’t on this list – only because I just thought of it a couple days ago – is BE BOLD. In all caps like that. BE BOLD.

Personally, I think it’s a good thing needlepoint is no longer quite so popular.

In my writing, my choices, my hairdo, my seasoning of soup…I intend to be bold this year.

Again, I have to apologize to my parents as that sentiment probably scares the hell out of them. In general, the adage in my family is “Vanessa is fearless,” so plans to be even more so are likely alarming when you’re fond of your (alleged) only daughter, but I can’t shake it. I feel like this is the year I need to make some big moves and paint with broad strokes and get some things going finally…and it seems like in life that requires boldness, shaking things up, putting yourself out there in a way that not everyone is going to like or appreciate, but that those who “get it” will love.

What’s that they say or somebody said anyway? “”Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid”"

There you go.

More on that (perhaps) when I can articulate my thoughts better…

Moving on…

In the words of several former bosses, “So….what else?”

What else?

I’m pretty good.

Life goes on.

I go on.

I’m two weeks into breaking that “work out three times a week” resolution, but I’ve been dreaming about running which maybe means I’ll actually do it someday soon.

I’m in the throes of making a complex calendar of plans as we speak. Maybe I should go buy one of those big dry erase calendars?

Speaking on the frivolous use of money, I tried to buy  myself those turquoise boots, and they won’t send them to Hawaii.

Let me repeat: I want to buy boots that cost $159 and THEY WON’T SEND THEM TO HAWAII.

I know…right!?!?

Fare well, turquoise boots, my star-crossed love. We were robbed.

We have mail here. Stamps cost the same as everywhere else. There’s even a box outside my house and the lady drives up to it every day but Sunday and sticks stuff in there. The boots could be shipped. There are ways.

But, actually, since “Hawaii” isn’t even in the drop down list, there aren’t ways, so I guess I’ll just take it as a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

In other news, I just now learned today that Lance Armstrong was stripped of his titles for using steroids.


(Well, that and the fact that Livestrong bracelets were cool for five minutes…five years ago. And I’m just kidding. I’ve never owned a Livestrong bracelet.  I don’t have balls, so prostrate cancer is no concern of mine.)

Anyway, I have critical laundry and vacuum duties to attend to, but nice chatting with you.

Live long and prosper and keep doing what you’re doing, because you look gorgeous.


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