The Anecdote Game!!!

Bored and alone on a Saturday night — an unfortunately all-too-common occurrence in my sad and insignificant existence that I like to call my life — I came up with the following:

I will write several short little anecdotes about me. Here’s the catch — you guys get to guess which one of them, or which ones of them, or whether any of them, is/are true. Now, I might use a situation that I was in, or a location where I lived, but that in and of itself will not make the anecdote true. For example, if I write about trapeze classes taken while I lived in Okinawa, even though I actually lived in Okinawa doesn’t mean I took trapeze classes there. Of course, it doesn’t mean I didn’t.

You get the picture — and speaking of which, I may use pictures to illustrate one or more of the anecdotes. Again, just because a picture is used doesn’t mean the story that goes with it is factual. If any of you have heard one or more of these anecdotes from me over the years — looks specifically at Chrissie — don’t spoil it right off the bat for others. Make a guess/reply but don’t say, “I remember when you told me about the trapeze classes! Classic!”

Let the game begin.

Anecdote 1:
So these two strippers meet me for lunch (at a nice bistro in a local hotel by the beach). Something in me, for some reason, expected them to show up in stripper clothes and shoes — and they saw that, in my blushing face, when they reached the table — the small but shapely Asian one in her overalls and sneaks, and the lanky, tall, lean California girl in cargo shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops.

It was a nice lunch — very friendly, chit-chatty and engaging. The Cali girl was a bit … well, Cali. You know, a little spacey and ditzy, but not exactly stupid. Ms. Asia was another ball of wax — bright, witty and engaged in the world; we had a great philosophical discussion regarding environmental policy. She was only stripping to pay for college, after all. But then again, isn’t almost every stripper?

I won major brownie points from both of them because they wanted to go to the hotel’s fabulous pool to get some sun. In fact, they’d been twice before, the second time being chased out because they weren’t registered guests. Anyway, I was a premiere member in the hotel’s dining club, and thus had a few perks, including full access to the pool for myself and guests. So I got to spend an afternoon in the shade of an umbrella while my two vixenish vamps tanned and glistened in the tropical sunshine. What is it about women putting tanning lotion on each other?

Anecdote 2:
I can’t believe I got busted. I was sooooo good at it, and yet here I was in the back office, waiting for the cops to come and arrest me for shoplifting. First time I’d been caught in my whole young life. And all for a lousy roll of film that I didn’t even need.

I was scared to my toes — worried they’d call my parents, worried I’d serve time in jail. My hopes and dreams for the future were ruined, I was so sure of it. I was sweating bullets. It seemed to take forever before a cop finally showed up.

All that ended up happening was me getting a ticket. Whew! I still had to appear in court and pay a fine, but at least I wasn’t hauled away in handcuffs, and at least I didn’t have to call my dad from jail to bail me out (he would have killed me!!). Also, I was banned for life from the store, but it was a sucky story in a sucky place. And, thank God, juvenile records are expunged once a person reaches adulthood.

Anecdote 3:
I always was a great student. It was just something I had a gift for, something I took to naturally. In high school, I would help friends out with their projects and papers. Why not? They were friends, right?

So I continued to do the same in college. But after a little while, I realized that I was a sucker. I was putting in a lot of work and effort and not getting very much in return, other than a few thank yous. So I started offering myself on a professional basis. Tutoring, polishing term papers, editing, researching, layout and design of papers and projects, etc. I even would prepare study guides for some classes, based on my personal note-taking and studying system. Students who used my study preps invariably did better on tests and exams than they did before using the study guides.

Every once in a while though, I’d still help a friend out, and usually for free. But one semester, this beautiful little woman friend I’d known for years needed a lot of help with a major project. It involved a lot of research, helping her with the writing and editing, doing illustrations and mock-ups of ads and pamphlets, etc. I told her I’d help her — but only if she would let me have a half hour with her naked body. There would be no intercourse, but I’d be free to use my hands and mouth as I wanted.

She was stunned, and initially refused me cold, storming away. But a couple of days later she called me. The deadline was closer and she know she wasn’t going to meet it without me, or that even if she did, the grade wouldn’t be what she needed, which was an A. But she wouldn’t do 30 minutes naked. How about 15 minutes topless?

She agreed. We started working on the project and the next night, a few hours from completion — we were working late in my office because of the computer/printer access — I asked for payment. She tried to get me to wait until the project was done, but I said there was no way to guarantee that she’d go through with her end of the project unless I asked for it before it was done. So she agreed, but just as we were about to get started, a senior editor came in to get something he’d forgotten. Yikes! Luckily, he left quick, and we moved to the women’s bathroom — where a couch was conveniently located. I collected (and while she was cold at first, after 10 minutes she’d warmed up pretty good), we finished, she got her “A.”

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• Guam only has one "lake," and it's not natural. Fena Lake is actually a reservoir, built by the Navy years ago and used to help provide drinking water to the island.

trying out something new ...

I am not using Blogger.com to input this test blog; I'm using a very cool new widget on my Mac OS X Tiger dashboard.

Very cool stuff ... I'm thinking I might be using this a lot ... heh heh

Tagged in three ...

Three random facts about my closet:
• It’s about 52 cubic feet.
• It has one closet rod.
• There’s a monster living inside it.

Three items I've never worn but still haven't tossed:
• A pair of dress shoes that don’t fit.
• A baseball cap from some charity golf tournament.
• The panties given to me by this really hot chick … but wait, I wore them on my head; does that count?

Three things I will never get rid of, no matter how ugly they get:
• My personality.
• My KISS Psycho Circus action figures.
• My eyebrows.

Three items that people wouldn't expect to find in my closet:
• A spiked dog collar that fits my very large neck.
• A gecko.
• A big knife that has been used to cut the throats of dozens of pigs over the years.

Three items that made me go, "Oh Lord, what was I thinking?":
• The two pink plastic hangers? Can’t think of a third.

Three things that I have a surprising number of:
• Hangars.
• Dress shirts that I don’t wear often.
• Vests. But very cool vests. Trust me. No, really!

Three dominant colors in my wardrobe:
• Black.
• Dark blue.
• Dark green.

Three items that never fail to put me in a good mood whenever I wear them:
• My golf shoes.
• My golf glove.
• The afore-mentioned dog collar.

Three people I will tag:
• My stalker, buttah.
• Sassinak, who always tags me.
• Everything Nice … just because I know she’s gotta have some very cool stuff in her closet.

My (brand-new) Adidas

Me and my Adidas do the illest things
We like to stomp out pimps with diamond rings
We slay all suckers who perpetrate
And lay down law from state to state

OK, I didn't really NEED a new pair of sneakers, but I saw this pair while strolling though a shoe store. And they fit. On Guam, that means "buy the damn shoes!" I have, and always have had, giant feet. At 12, I was wearing a size 12. I wore size 13EEE throughout high school. Right now a 14EEE is a tight squeeze, usually, which means I need a 15. It's hard enough to find a size 15 anywhere, but Guam is particularly hard.

And no, unfortunately, the myth about shoe size and penis size is not true. I WISH. Or do I? Hell, I could definitely do porn despite my belly if I had a 15-inch, super extra-wide cock. Of course, I'd probably pass out from a lack of oxygen everytime I got hard, too.

Wow. From new shoes to cock in two paragraphs. That's what happens when I read so many dirty-minded people's blogs and comments, I guess.

On another note, I ran into an old friend of mine at the bookstore (picked her up, dusted her off) who I hadn't seen in quite some time. We used to be really tight, but you know how it goes. She got a different job at a new place (then another), got married, had a couple of kids, etc. Me? I stayed at the same place, no steady woman over any of that time, no children. I am static man. I am the constant by which all changes are measured.

That's why I don't do so well with the e-mail thing. What do I tell people?

Hi. How are you? How's the family? As for me, nothing's changed. No change at work. No change in love life. No change in family. OK, write back soon.

Bleah.

So supposedly she's supposed to call me so we can have lunch sometime soon and catch up. Anyone want to take odds that she won't call at all?

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• This is Guam's flag:

traffic can be a bitch ... and going down?

At least my view was fantastic. That's the crystal-clear Pacific Ocean off to the right, bitches!

Turns out there was a small fender bender. And the cars involved were already pulled into a parking lot. But, for some reason, four cops were parked in the right lane having a nice friendly chat while traffic around 5:30 p.m. tried to merge from three backed-up lanes into two, with no help from the said police officers, save the flashing blue-and-red lights on top of one of the police cruisers.

Anyway, since there seems to be a dearth of knowledge regarding elevators out there — at least based on the idiots I've had to refrain from strangling over the past couple of days — I will share some basic elevator rules.

• If you are only going up or down one floor ... walk the stairs!

• If the up button between the two elevators is lit up and you're on the first floor, it means someone has already pressed it and the elevator eventually will come down to take you up. Pressing it again doesn't speed things up. Pressing it twice in a row when it's already lit doesn't either.

• Don't stand in front of the doors, ready to charge into the elevator car. Sometimes, there are people on the elevator who need to get off. The elevator doors won't close super-fast if you take your fucking time, have a bit of patience, and exhibit a degree of manners in letting people off before you try to get on.

• If you are not on the top or bottom floors, before you try to get on, check to see whether the elevator is going up or down. There are indicators that reveal this information, especially when there is more than one elevators. Yes, you do look like an idiot when you're waiting to go up and jump onto the elevator going down, only having to jump off again.

• When you do get into the elevator, move to the side or the back. Or I will use my body mass to crush you, fucker. If you're only going up one floor and don't want to get trapped in the back, then wait to get on till last.

• When you're in the elevator, if your floor button is pressed, it doesn't need to be pressed again. See the second tip above.

• If someone is behind you in the elevator needs to get off, let them pass. But only if they say, "Excuse me." If they just try to push and wedge their way by, you're allowed to block them or trip them.

• If you plan to ride in any elevator, whether it's once or multiple times, or even if you think there's a chance you will, please wash your ass and use deodorant. The rest of us don't need to share in the funk that is your unwashed, stanky-ass self.

• When you get on the elevator, turn around and face the door. Looking back at the other passengers makes you weird and scary, and a fellow rider will be justified in sticking a shiv into your liver.

• Only polite small talk allowed.

• If you're in the elevator and the doors begin to close and you see someone approaching who obviously wants to get on the elevator — and you're alone — you're allowed to pretend to try to push the "open doors" button while actually pressing the "close doors" button. I mean, fuck, you're in a hurry, right?

• If a child enters the elevator with a parent, then proceeds to hit every single button for every single floor, you're legally entitled to bitch-slap the parent. I'm pretty sure it's legal. Well, you can at least glare at them REALLY hard.

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• During the Vietnam War, the military had three primary uses for the island: 1. Staging ground for B-52s (BUFFs, of Big, Ugly Flying Fuckers) to launch carpet-bombing missions. 2. As a medical facility. At the time, Guam Naval Hospital was staffed with some of the best neurosurgeons in the United States. Guam is where they sent head and spinal-cord injuries. 3. Liberty station. Not as popular as Hawaii or Japan, but it did in a pinch.

It's beginning to look a lot like ...

CHRISTMAS!

OK, here's the deal. I REALLY like Christmas. I love giving presents. There's just something about picking out a great gift for a loved one, something they not only need but want. It's hard to explain, but if you've ever seen a person open a present and they get this semi-stunned I-can't-believe-it look — that momentary gasp of surprise, followed by the processing in their head as they realize that this lovely, perfect thing you got for them meant that you took the time to think about them instead of just buying something for them — then you probably know what I mean.

I also love to wrap presents. And I don't just mean dropping it into a bag, or covering it in brightly colored paper and slapping a bow on it. I like to make presents presentable. I like to make them pretty and beautiful and fun and creative. I like the wrapping to show as much care and thought as the present. Sometimes I get pressed for time, or short on money, and can't always do what I feel is a top-notch job, but at the same time I don't half-ass it. I've given people presents in which the gift wrapping was more elaborate and expensive than the gift inside. I use all kinds of elements to tie together gift wrapping.

Anyway, several years ago, my boss and long-time friend — and thus a recipient of my specialty wraps and thoughtful gifts — thought I should share this talent with the rest of the island. And thus, Jingle George was born. For the past several years, I have been writing regular columns during Christmastime to give advice, tips, hints and the like to the holiday challenged. I've written about other holidays, but Christmas has always been my specialty. I show how to do some of my specialty wraps, discuss the philosophy behind gift-giving, give suggestions for buying presents for friends, co-workers, relatives, girlfriends/boyfriends, etc. I remind about shipping deadlines and give last-minute advice.

I've actually become something of a local celebrity. I represent the paper at one hotel's annual Christmas train grand opening (that's where the photo above comes from). When I'm there, or at other events, Japanese tourists, children and others come up and ask for pictures with me. How can I refuse at Christmas? Hell, I must be in about 100 Japanese people's photo albums.

Last year, my mom made me a full-blown Santa suit. My brother even made me a custom big leather belt. I do still need to find better boots.

The point to this ramble is that it's that time of year again. The columns will start again. I'm looking forward to it, but dreading it as well because while I enjoy the attention and publicity, it's sometimes difficult to keep it all fresh, to do something new and different, and yet the same.

This year, we're shooting for e-cards featuring Jingle George, and a page on the paper's Web site to feature extra tips and stories. I'm even going to be making more appearances, including serving as a celebrity bell-ringer for The Salvation Army.

I think I need to go buy a couple of Santa hats now. My ones from last year have that stale sweat smell, and I should stock up so I can alternate fresh ones this year. I also think I need to have the Santa suit altered a bit because of my partial weight loss. And damn, I gotta try to find size 15 black stomper boots somewhere.

For those of you truly interested/intrigued, or those of you who just wanna make fun, let me know in a few weeks and I'll provide you with the Web site addy so you can see the new pics I'm shooting soon.

GADZOOKS!!!

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• "Felis Pasgua yan Añu Nuebu" is Chamorro for "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year." Oh, and the "Y" is pronounced as a "J" — well, technically, it's more like a "DZ" sound.

GADZOOKS!!! ... almost forgot ...

The fuzzy little reddish-brown caterpillar has become a butterfly and flittered off of my upper lip. Well, technically, I had it shaved off when I went into the barber yesterday — had the head shaved and face shaved, a little indulgence I partake in now and then (I could write stunning poems about my love for the feel of a straight razor against my skin).

The vast majority of the people who voted in the "should I shave the 'stache" (all two of them) thought I should get rid of it. So, it's gone. Whatcha think, Allison? My upper lip skin live up to the rest of my epidermis? LOL

Wow ... I just realized this: Despite this being the "best" of the photos I took of the non-moustache, I still come off looking like the psycho who just got outta prison TRYING to look like a friendly fellow. Gadzooks!

And by the way ... how come no one uses that exclamation anymore? It's great! I'm reviving "Gadzooks!" ya'll! It WILL be appearing in the comment portions of your blogs now and then, until it's back in common usage or I'm dead, whichever comes first.

I love Korean barbecue ...

Thought I would share my lunch today, because it was just so tasty ... and because I happened to have my digital camera along with me.

Above is the main course — beef bulgogi. Very tasty, very savory, served on a sizzling hot cast iron platter. Sooooo very yummy. The picture to the left is the set of kimchee that comes with the meal. There are a lot of varieties. The far back left is traditional cabbage kimchee (very spicy), the back right is a radish kimchee, also very spicy. Front left is broccoli kimchee, and front right is bean sprouts. It's about the only way I'll eat bean sprouts too — THAT's how good they are.

$15.50 for the bulgogi and kimchee, $1.50 for iced tea — but the bulgogi feeds two (and actually did, in this instance) so it's a pretty good deal. And have I mentioned that it was tasty?

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• Guam's coral reefs not only provide protection from most storms, but also provide some of the best diving in the entire world. Yeah, I said it and it's true — some of the best diving in the entire WORLD, baby!

good god, glorious golf ...

It's one thing to be able to play golf on a weekend, with good golf buddies. It's another thing to play on the finest golf course on the island. The only way that gets better is when you get to play for free. That was my Sunday afternoon.

The above photo is a shot of the back nine of the course, shot from just outside the starter's area. It's cut along the eastern shores of Guam, including a spectacular peninsula hole where you have to hit a scary shot (165 yards from the whites) over crashing waves.

This is a photo of me, the giant ham, on the tee box of that said spectacular hole. That image right behind me is a co-worker and frequent golf buddy, Ryota. He's a thin Japanese man,which explains why he disappears behind me. The actual hole is about 70 degrees to the right, but I wanted a nice, clear Pacific Ocean to serve as the background for this shot.

We got really lucky as it poured for most of Friday and Saturday, and while the course was a little muddy come Sunday, the weather pretty much stayed clear. And even though I crapped out early, due to a combination of no real sleep the night before, the pounding heat and choking humidity, my still-short-of-up-to-snuff physical endurance, and some kind of bug that really hit me full force today (blech). I pretty much didn't play the last four or five holes. But it was free, it was fun and, all in all, was a pretty glorious day. Then I slept, on and off, for about 12 hours.

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• The highest ranking male in ancient Chamorro society was called maga'lahi, and he usually was titular head of one tribe; there was no over-chief or king. The maga'lahi's wife was called maga'haga.

Just thought I'd share ...

I know we can all identify with this ... If you're not already paying more than $3 a gallon, yer damn lucky!!

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• Guam was created by an ancient, long-dormant volcano and is made up primarily of part of the volcano's crater and limestone.

Lewd, rude and tattooed ...

For those of you who have bothered to scroll down along the right side of my blog to learn more about me (I'm guessing two or three folks at most), you would know that I have four tattoos. Since I don't have anything deep to write about tonight (like I ever do), I thought I'd share them with you.

These are cropped photos for two reasons: 1. To show as much tatt detail as possible; and 2. To spare you from seeing any more of my fat, flabby flesh than you absolutely need to.

I give myself bonus points because none of these are the "typical" tattoos you see on so many people. No barbed wire. No butterflies. No tribal banding. None of these were chosen out of a book. I brought in each and every one and had the tatt artist make a template for the tatt, and then took the originals back with me.

Oh, and my godsons love how I have "pictures" on my skin. Their mom and dad don't know it, but on their 18th birthday, Nino is gonna hook them up! LOL

This is my first tattoo. No, it's not completely original, but it is very cool. Comic book fans will recognize this as the logo of "The Punisher" of Marvel Comics fame. Not the movies. Those all sucked major ass. But in the world of comics, Frank Castle was THE man! And I love the stylized skull. I really do wish it was a bit more crisp, and yes, I know that I have to get some touch-up work to even out the black.

Tattoo No. 2 was something of a whim. I kind of collect kokopelli images, art, knick-knacks, etc. I think the kokopelli looks pretty cool, and I love the mythos attached to the imagery. The kokopelli comes from the American Southwest and is found in a number of different Native America mythology, though most strongly with the Anasazi. You want to know more? Google it, ya lazy bastiches.

Tatt No. 3 was the most painful one I got. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise — high-speed repetitive piercing of your skin by a metal needle hurts; it's all about degree of pain. I've heard ankle tatts are pretty painful because the bone is so close to the surface of the skin, but a needle dancing across your spine HURTS! And I got it done with my then live-in girlfriend watching the whole time (Remind me to tell that story sometime. I don't think I'll ever hook up again because I used up all my significant-other points with her; she was just toooooo beautiful), so I couldn't even cry like the bitch I felt like. I toughed it out and only had one break ... "to smoke a cigarette." It's a tribal gecko, and all that matters is at the time SHE thought it was hot. I need to get someone to take a pic of it; it's hard to get the right angle shooting it by myself.

The cardinal rule with tattooing is to NEVER ink a woman's name into your skin, because no matter how much you love her and she loves you, it could end. The only exceptions are for your mom or female daughters. Ask my brother how much of a pain it was to cover up his ex's name over his chest (heart). Or the guy I saw in the tatt artist's book, who had his lady's name tattooed in six-inch tall letters across his shoulders. The cover on that took a LOT of ink ... LOL. This is the closest I'll ever come to putting a woman's name on my body — a cartoon version of a very special woman who, though I'm still friends with, will never again feel the way I still do about her. Oh well, that's life — all sucky and shit.