Posts Tagged ‘Life’

Go Big or Go Home

Wednesday, June 19th, 2013
He had such an interesting face.

He had such an interesting face.

I just thoughtlessly ate a whole bunch of chocolate covered espresso beans while my mind was otherwise occupied.

This probably explains the sensation that I’m in whirling vortex through time.

This – in an abstract way, although that kind of thought is more challenging than it might usually be seeing as I’m all amped up on caffeine and chocolate and whatnot -  also seems to support my burgeoning theory that I don’t seem to know how to do anything in a casual or non-committed manner.

“Have fun!”

“Just try it for a while and don’t take it seriously!”

“Keep it casual.”

I don’t know what these words mean, at least when strung together into those particular sentences.

This has been proven to me in spades by my recent return to working out.

I’ve been out of the exercise loop in a  SERIOUS way and that needs to stop. My muffin top told me so.

Thus, for about two weeks now I’ve been in a daily rotation of free weights and “pyramid” workouts and doing things to my abs to the degree that they spontaneously cramp while I’m innocently sitting at my desk writing.

As for my go big or go home ways, the truest measure of this is every third day (lower body day): I exercise until my legs tremble and my eyes roll back into my head. Then for hours afterward I’m adorably knock-kneed and shaky-legged like a newborn deer.

Today is lower body day. I’ve got about one more hour as Bambi until tomorrow, when I won’t be able to lift anything any higher than my own cleavage.

Again, if there are other approaches – and I realize, at least intellectually, there are – they seem to be out of my grasp.

“We have to do the best we can. This is our sacred human responsibility.”

~Albert Einstein

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Dreams where my friends kill me

Monday, June 17th, 2013

So a few months back I had a dream that my friend, Trish, killed us in a car crash. I woke up incensed and texted her this.

“JEEBUS CHRIST. I just awoke from a dream that you were driving us on an 8-lane freeway bridge and got distracted by something and hit the guard rail and we went into this major spin and ended up on the other side of the highway. For a brief second it looked like maybe this was a survivable situation, but then the guard rail on the side we were now on gave way and we started to fall the 200 feet to the water below. You said “we’re out” followed by (so you) “Love you!” and I unlocked the door and put my hand on my seatbelt in case living was an option, but then it all went white and I knew we were dead.
Seriously, JEEBUS CHRIST.
And fuck you! Haha”

I still remember this dream as vividly as though it really happened.

My one condolence – well, minus the fact that my super lovable and most excellent friend both didn’t die/kilis us and is still around for me/the world to enjoy – is, if I did die this way, I think I’d be pretty calm seeing as I’ve been through dream versions of if dozens of times now. :/

For years and years the dream was that I drove off a cliff.

In the last six months it’s that I’m the passenger and someone I know, love and trust accidentally (or incidentally out of some otherwise charming nuance of their personality) kills us with a motor vehicle.

***DISCUSS***

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My dog is a ninja

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013
This picture is old, but it's all I could find in a pinch. This is after I bought him that fancy dog bed because a pet psychic told me to. Long story. Maybe I told it here. ?

This picture is old, but it’s all I could find in a pinch. This is after I bought him that fancy dog bed because a pet psychic told me to. Long story. Maybe I told it here. ?

You know it’s been too long – waaaaaaaaay to long – since you’ve last posted when you struggle to remember your password.
I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve started and then abandoned or never finished and then realized they were now too old to count as updates, but all that is behind us as just now in my head I came up with a Plan B.
Get a load of this: how’s about I share a little snippet or anecdote or thing I want other people on earth to read that’s too long for Twitter (yes. I post on stupid Twitter. Don’t be hating.) as much as I can, hopefully daily but probably not but I’ll do what I can and we all know where these kinds of promises have led in the past?

Deal?
Coolio.

—-
Once in a while I forget my dog exists.
Sensing this, he creeps into the bathroom and sticks his head into the shower while I am in there happily shampooing my hair and thinking about tacos, very nearly terrifyingly me to death.
Well played, my not so little friend. Well played.

 

 

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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.

Gah.

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

Aloha!

(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

sat·ire  

/ˈsaˌtī(ə)r/

Noun

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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