Grease Monkey Snorkeler...

Aloha! I can't believe it's already been a week since I last posted. I promise if we had internet at the house I would post much more frequently. There are just other things more enticing than walking or mopeding down to a McDonald's for two hours or so, you know what I'm saying? But, here I am, and I even just dragged myself out of bed for y'all (yes, it is 3 in the afternoon here, don't judge me). I'm also looking especially homeless at the moment in an XL "Maroon is All that Matters" t-shirt, no makeup, and hair somewhat half-in, half-out of a bun that I slept on wet last night. So really I don't look all that different from the last time I was here, except that last time I had just hiked a waterfall, so I had more of an excuse. Whatever.

Unfortunately, I haven't hiked any more mountains, dangled from any more waterfalls by my hair and fingertips, or jumped off any more cliffs. Disappointing, I know. But let's just go through whatever mundane things I have done this week.

As of my last writing, I had just bought an essentially brand new moped & was ecstatic. That was Monday. Tuesday was fine, but then came Wednesday. Wednesday I had lazed around the house watching LOST all morning (yes, I am hopelessly addicted now, and it is really consuming my life) until about 2, when I decided that I was in Hawaii & should probably do something with my life. So I put on my brand new, super cute, Victoria's Secret clearance sale bathing suit, doused myself in sunscreen (aside: let the record state that I hate, loathe, and despise sunscreen. It is such a burden being a pale, freckly kid who's already had an atypical mole cut out of their back. Why can't skin cancer just not exist and we all be bronzed & beautiful? WHY? Sunscreen is AWFUL. It breaks you out, and it so, SO greasy. I HATE IT. Sorry, just had to get that out), and hopped on my new moped to ride down to Waikiki to read a book on the beach all afternoon. And then my moped started acting crazy. Sputtering, jumping, jerking, almost as soon as I left the house, so I pulled over in an apartment complex parking lot before I got run over & killed out on the street. I knew it had plenty of gas, because I had just filled it up the afternoon before. The oil wasn't low, but I went ahead and topped it off anyway. It was still acting funny, but I managed to get it back home by nursing the acceleration. There are certain times when it is exceptionally handy to have your mechanically-minded, engineering Ph.D. father around, and this was one of those times. Except we're currently 3,700 miles and half an ocean away from each other. Super unfortunate. Maybe we could remedy this over the phone somehow, though? So, I called my dad. And thus began my one horrific afternoon as a grease monkey. My dad thought it sounded like a spark plug problem, so he tried explaining to me where to find it, how to get it out & clean it, etc. Much easier said than done. About 15 phone calls, 4 picture messages, and 2 YouTube videos sent back and forth later, in the space of an hour I had only managed to finally find the spark plug & get the cover off. In my defense, let me just say that it is not easy to work on a little scooter. There is no room to get up under it, and everything is crammed in there like Mexicans in a Volkswagen Beetle. I tried & tried & tried to get that dang spark plug to turn with the little tool thing that was supposed to unscrew it, but it was just not budging. I need you to picture this scene: me, laying in our carport with my head halfway under a scooter, in a cute little orange beach coverup, sweating, covered in grease, and halfway crying. It was hilarious, humiliating, and unbelievably frustrating all at the same time. I am many, many things, but a mechanic I am apparently not. Hopeless, as my dad succinctly put it. I was dying for my roommates to come home & find me like that, because I knew they would probably die of laughter. It really was a funny sight. But since I was home alone, after I finally gave up, I decided to have a fun little self-timer photoshoot for y'all. I just looked so adorable & stunning (insert heavy sarcasm here), I knew y'all had to see it.

Please, everyone, don't inundate me with date requests. One at a time, please. I know, I've never looked better. The speck of oil below my eye makes a nice beauty mark, no? How I got that amount of everything on me simply trying to get a spark plug out, I have no idea. I had to use about half a bottle of Dawn with Bleach Alternative dish soap to get all the oil, grease, and general muck off me.

So, needless to say, Wednesday wasn't the greatest day. When I finally ceded defeat to the stupid moped (not an easy thing for my extremely stubborn self to do), I called the repair shop and made an appointment for the next day. There are many, many times when I hate being a girl. Probably the two situations in which I hate being a girl the most are when you have to call an IT helpline or you have to call about something mechanical-related. I know that there are many, many, many girls who know absolutely nothing about electronics or engines, but I like to consider myself completely not in that category electronically-speaking, and only halfway in that category mechanically-speaking. This is how the conversation with the mechanic went, after I had somewhat described the problems & noises it was making.

Mechanic: "Does it have gas in it?"

Me: "Yes, I just filled it up yesterday afternoon."

Mechanic: "Can you actually see the gas in it?"

Me: "Yes, I just filled it up yesterday afternoon."

Mechanic: "Does it have oil in it?"

Me: "Yes, I topped it off just now."

Mechanic: "So you can actually see the oil in it."

Me: "Yes, I topped it off just now."

AGGGGHHHHHHHH. I just want to scream when these situations happen. Just because I'm female, doesn't mean I'm an idiot! (Yes, I know, I did have one very unfortunate gas-related incident in the Prius, but how was I supposed to know that all the lights flashing "HYBRID SYSTEM FAILURE" just meant it had run out of gas? The gas light had only come on 8 miles back, in my defense. A costly lesson learned, all the same.)

I slowly but surely managed to get it over there the next day, and 1 hour & $40 later, it was good as new. And yes, it was the stupid spark plug. Hopefully, they didn't screw this one in so tight, so maybe I can fix it myself if it happens again. (Actually, I'd really never like to go through that miserable experience again, so let's just hope this spark plug lasts for the next 5 weeks, and I can save my pride & another $40.) Thursday afternoon I had scheduled a haircut at the Paul Mitchell School, but after waiting 30 minutes, they came over, profusely apologized for the delay, and asked if I'd like to reschedule. I really wanted to get my hair cut before my first day of work on Saturday, so I asked if they had any appointments for the next day (Friday). They didn't, but the girl who had been so apologetic about my wait insisted that she would fit me in. How sweet!

So Friday I watched LOST all morning, then set out for my haircut. It was the best haircut I've ever gotten. Because I had waited so long the previous day, they insisted on giving me a free keratin hair strengthening treatment. Score! I ended up getting a shampoo, scalp massage, keratin treatment, hand massage, haircut, and blowdry for...wait for it...$10.47. Yes, ten dollars and forty-seven cents. (Nanna, I know you're jealous.) Unbelievable. Yes, it took a while, because they're students, and not super quick at everything yet, but the quality of my girl's work was excellent and way beyond worth the price and wait. Now I have dead end-free, shiny, soft hair. Woohoo! It was long overdue - I hadn't had a haircut since Christmastime. Yikes. As always post-haircut, I feel like my hair is super short, but it's really only 3 inches shorter & probably still plenty long. I actually used to cry after just about every haircut (yes, even one time when I only got 1 inch cut off) until I chopped off almost a foot of it for Locks of Love before I went to Mexico in 2006. Didn't cry then and haven't cried since. I guess I finally grew up or something. I still think that haircuts are slightly traumatic experiences, though. I always feel like I walk in as "the girl with really long hair" and walk out as "the girl with kind of long hair." I literally dread the day when I'll have to get the "mom haircut." You know, that short haircut that every mom has. There are slight variations on it, but they're really all the same. I dread, dread, dread it. Short hair is just not a good look for me, but when you see old women with long hair, it's just gross, and I don't want to be one of those. So I'll let it go eventually, but not anytime soon.

Friday night, I went with Kyle & his friend Jamie to this amazing house on a mountain in Hawaii Kai. It was a bunch of his friends from his MBA program having a game night. So fun. There was literally a ton of food, and we played Catchphrase & Apples to Apples for hours, laughing until our sides hurt. Probably my favorite part was when one of the guys on my team who was half-Filipino had the Catchphrase console & was trying to describe the phrase to us. We had already gotten that the second word was "roast" and for the first word he said, "a yellow bear - 'blank' the Pooh!" "Winnie!" we cried out. "Winnie roast!" He excitedly passed along the console to the next person on the other team, but everyone was like, "Hang on, what the heck is a winnie roast??" before we all realized about the same time that the phrase had actually been "wienie roast," as we were in the "Food" category. We could not stop laughing. It was hilarious.

Saturday: first day of work. 4:30 - midnight. My feet, legs, knees, and hips ached when I finally got off. It brought back horrible memories of hours & hours of cheering at ballgames, days that I thought were behind me. Other than the physical pain, how was it? Eh. I'm having to start as a hostess, and I'm definitely not going to make a career out of hostessing, that's for sure. Unfortunately, for my very first day with zero training, we had SEVEN huge parties (1 of 40 people, 3 of 20-25 people, 3 with 15 people) with all different times of reservations, and there were 3 hostesses working, so essentially, it was a madhouse. It was extremely, extremely frustrating until about 8 or 9, when all the parties had finally gotten there, settled in, or left. At that time, when it was more like a normal shift, one of the three of us had left, and the other one was off doing something else, it was fine. So yes, I mean that when I had control over all of it all by myself, it was fine, and I kind of liked it. (I admit it, I can be a bit of a control freak. Blame it on the OCD or something.) I do HATE being new at things, so it was very frustrating when somebody came up & wanted to place a to-go order, and I had no idea how to go about it. Luckily, one of the waitresses was really, really nice and showed me how to do that, and a couple other things. None of it is hard or anything, it's just when they throw you out there with no training, it's frustrating having to learn it on the spot, often looking like you're an idiot or something. Regardless, I think I'm going to like the job, and I think I'm going to enjoy waitressing. I don't work again til Friday, when I'll be hostessing again, then I'm food running on Saturday, then I think I get to start server training Sunday. Yay! I'm ready to start making tips. Although, I did actually make $1.10 and 2 roses as tips while hostessing Saturday night. Rolling in the dough, I know. Don't be jealous, it's unbecoming.

Let me tell you the worst part for me about working at a restaurant. If you know me well, you know I love to eat. And I love to eat a lot of food and often. So, working from 4:30 - midnight, running around a restaurant with delectable smells wafting all around you, but not getting to eat, is pure torture. I thought I was going to die of starvation. I came home & ate just about everything in sight, before collapsing into bed and watching 2 episodes of LOST. I am happy to report that I have finished the first season, and am making nice progress on the second.

Yesterday, I went to church with the Melissas, then wanted to come home, watch LOST, and nap the day away, but got talked into going over to Lanikai Beach with Melissa S. and Molly. So glad I did. We had Teddy's burgers again (I'm so in love with them. They really are just divine.), complete with milkshakes, then hit the beach. I read a little of my latest awesome book (I've already read 8 since I've been here - it'd be more, but LOST is starting to take over my life), The Memory Keeper's Daughter, before taking a nice, long nap. Then, Melissa S. made me go snorkeling with her, which I really felt too lazy & tired to do, but I'm glad she made me! The reefs were so beautiful! I saw all kinds of fish. It was awesome. A little stressful at first, though. I've snorkeled a couple times before, but it still makes me a little stressed when I first start breathing underwater. I definitely know how to swim, lived in swimming pools growing up, go to the lake all the time, have never had a near-death water experience, but I still have a slight fear of drowning. Like when I watch movies or tv shows where the characters are underwater for a long time or, even worse, trapped under water, I start getting a little bit panicky. I feel like I have to hold my breath with them. Illogical, I know, but real to me all the same. So, I'm always a little scared upon first starting to breathe underwater with the snorkel mask that I'm going to suck up a ton of water & drown or not going to be able to get air through the snorkel tube or something. So at first, I'm breathing like 90 miles a minute, breathing like it's my last chances on earth to get oxygen or something. But then I get used to it, and it's fine. And yeah, like I already said, we saw all kinds of beautiful, awesome things. It was really fun. In my typical, unlucky, accident-prone fashion, I did get stung by something on my wrist while we were snorkeling, probably a tiny jellyfish or something.

It was strange-looking. Three little welp circles connected in a row, then one more little circle by itself. It stung pretty badly, but I didn't go into anaphylactic shock and it went down relatively quickly, so I think I'll survive. This is all that's left of it today:

Oh, here's another injury update. This is all that's left from my near-death waterfall experience, just a couple of little bruises. Scratches are all healed.

So, I know I promised y'all that the next time I posted I would include a picture of me in my helmet on my moped, but I just haven't gotten around to having that taken, try not to be too sad about it. I did take a couple of snapshots of my dear broken, but now healed, moped, so maybe y'all can just envision me on it.

Sweet, eh? I'm happy to report that I have now become much more adept at the chain, so it's not as much of a pain anymore. I'm also a lot more comfortable riding it around these days (I've already put 100 miles on it in the week I've owned it). I really wish I could ship it back to Memphis with me. I love the little thing, and I'd save so much money on parking & gas, but I'm sure not I'd save enough to offset the shipping cost. Plus, at the end of the day, it's a Chinese piece of crap, so will probably fall to pieces sooner rather than later, and I definitely don't want to deal with that.

I'm really sorry that this blog post has been mundane, monotonous, and pretty unwitty. I didn't bring my A-game today. I'm having a super lazy kind of day, and haven't done anything very exciting in the past week other than snorkeling yesterday. If only I had had an underwater camera with me. The good news is that since I've got the next few days free & clear, I'm hoping to do some cool things like hopefully going up to the North Shore one day this week. So maybe then I'll have a better blog post with some awesome pictures. I've got to get going, though. I'm finally going to attend one of Melissa S.'s Zumba classes, even though I swore after that one 2-hour Zumba torture session that I'd never do it again. Thankfully, this one is just for 1 hour. Still seems about 30 minutes too long, if you ask me. I love & miss y'all terribly! Write me!