What Are the Odds?

After breakfast this morning, I wandered around the casino area of The Venetian, where I’m staying for a few days. One of the places I visited was the Venetian Sports Book.

This is where sports lovers of all walks of life place their wagers on horse racing (broadcast live on screens), major league baseball games that you can also watch live on the big screens, and soon college football (ditto the live broadcasts).

My alma mater of the University of Southern California (the Trojans) will be meeting the University of Hawaii this Thursday evening so I waited for the odds to appear overhead. The Trojans opened as 18-point favorites, which actually I thought was very low.

However, the odds (the point spread) have risen. USC is now a 21.5-point favorite amongst the gamblers. What that means is that if you pick USC to win, you have to spot Hawaii 21.5 points. And if you pick Hawaii to win, you start off 21.5 points ahead. That’s more than three touchdowns.

The point spread rises when the gamblers bet heavily on the favorites. “Uh, oh,” those who set the spread mutter, “we want to break even on the betting so we can collect the vigorish.”

Anyway, I don’t think Hawaii’s going to win – they haven’t done that in previous five times they’ve met USC on the gridiron.

And that’s okay by me.

Air Travel Experiences … Again

Lately, I just can’t get away from not-so-pleasant experiences when I fly somewhere. It happened again during my flights from Honolulu to Las Vegas this past weekend.

When you catch the red-eye that leaves Hawaii late at night, sometimes you just want to sleep. Every now and then you find it difficult to do; after all, it’s not easy falling asleep while sitting up and having to listen to the whiney drone of the jet engines and the rattle-tattle of loose stuff in the cabin.

So it’s extremely disconcerting when someone near you talks and talks and talks. It’s almost as aggravating as a crying child. Wait, I take that back. NOTHING comes close to being almost as aggravating as a crying child. Let’s just say it’s aggravating.

There was this guy behind me who felt compelled to explain to a young college student how the Trivia game worked on the Delta Airlines video console. You could tell she wasn’t very interested by the way she was responding – “Uh huh,” “I see,” “oh yes” … like that. But the guy went on and on for nearly half of the seven-hour flight.

Oh, and then there was the guy who sat next to me. As I was playing solitaire on the video console, he felt compelled to suggest moves for me. I finally just gave him “the look” and shut off the console. Jeez, that was aggravating.

We finally reached Salt Lake City and I changed planes, heading back westward to Los Angeles, so I could catch another plane and head northeastward to Las Vegas. That in itself is kind of aggravating, the way the fare structure had me zigzagging back and forth. It’s like a weekend golfer putting, overshooting and missing the hole, the overshooting and missing again, getting closer each time.

But I digress. What I wanted to tell you was that the guy same SAT BEHIND ME AGAIN! I mean, jeez Louise, can you believe it? And the thing is, he remembered me because he had seen the initials on my carry-on and said his was almost like mine – TMC instead of CTM. Oh, like I cared.

Mr. “Gotta Keep Talking” struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to him and darned if she didn’t jump right into it. They talked for the entire trip. And to top it all off, he discovered that the first-class cabin flight attendant was a high school classmate of his who he hadn’t seen in 30 years.

He got one of the female flight attendants to call him over, and lordy lordy if the TWO of them didn’t carry on an animated conversation about classmates and the upcoming 30-year reunion this weekend.

About the only interesting thing I heard was that Sheryl Crow is their classmate (that would be Kennett High School in Kennett, Missouri, ‘cause they only mentioned it five times). But that ain’t enough to make listening to him for three hours from Hawaii to Salt Lake City, and two hours from Salt Lake to Los Angeles worth depriving me of some sleep.

And then … you just knew there was going to be an “and then,” didn’t you? And then … my Los Angeles to Las Vegas plane was a “cigar plane” a Canadair Regional jet CRJ900, which sits two on each side of a long yet narrow aisle. A whole bunch of people taller than five-feet bumped their heads … including me.

But that’s not the experience. You see, there was a trio of young women – African American – who were on their way to Vegas to celebrate one of their birthdays. The birthday girl was excited, of course, and was singing and talking to a Los Angeles young man who obviously didn’t get much sleep the night before and was headed to Las Vegas for a bachelor’s party. She kept blabbering and blabbering on to him – innocuous conversations, as you can imagine.

And like the college girl in the fourth paragraph, he kept muttering, “Uh huh,” “I see,” “oh yes” … like that.

And then (yep, another one), sleepy as I was, I drove for nearly two hours from the Las Vegas McCarran Airport to Laughlin. For someone who lives on an island and can get anywhere by car in less than an hour, that was a long drive. ‘Cause I was sleepy. ‘Cause of blabbermouths on my planes.

Next time, I think I’ll take the train and book a private cabin.

Do Lizards Eat Bread?

I threw some bread crumbs on the ground the other day to feed my pet ants, but that proved to be their undoing when a brown anole lizard (Anolis sagrei) pounced on the little guys that were feeding on the crumbs.

The lizard got a little over-zealous, I thought, and ended up swallowing a whole crumb (is that an oxymoron, or what?) just as I had my camera out waiting for him to do his red dewlap display.

A quick check on Google verified that anoles only eat insects and not grains. So … the only thing I can figure is that the ants flavored the bread crumb for the lizard. Eh? No? Well then what? Maybe the all-protein diet (shades of Dr. Robert Atkins) needed a little carbohydrate boost?

That speculation had to wait a bit, because there was another character waiting to horn in on the mini-ant feast (I say “mini-ant” because these ants were teeny little buggers that have somehow supplanted the larger ants that used to forage in our driveway and turnaround).

It was a little garden skink (Lempropholis delicate) that got into a lizard-skink testosterone stare-down with the anole, which started bobbing up and down in its threat display.

“Whoa!” I whispered in lizard talk, “There’s plenty of ants to go around. Share and share alike!”

They looked at me, shook their heads and ran off. The nerve of those little rascals!

Tropical Sodas

I’ve just discovered Waialua tropical flavored sodas; picked up a box of 12 on my latest trip to Costco. They’re good! Rather like mildly flavored soda pop – not cloyingly sweet and syrupy.

The case contained four bottles of three flavors: Mango, Pineapple and Lilikoi (passion fruit). According to their website, they also make root beer and vanilla cream.

The drinks are sold in old-fashioned long-neck glass bottles, no aluminum cans, which makes them kind of retro.

They also use local ingredients: Maui cane sugar, Big Island vanilla, and Kauai honey.

The sodas are produced by Waialua Soda Works, a relatively new bottler that was founded in 2003 and is located on Oahu’s North Shore, in the sleepy little sugar plantation town of Waialua.

You can find the tropical sodas in Hawaii, Southern California, Arizona and Nevada.

You’ll need a bottle opener, unless you know how to open capped bottles via the “whack” method.

Yet Another Wedding

Waterfront Park is a haven for nuptials. I’ve seen more newly married Asian couples having their pictures taken along the shore walkway than anywhere else on the island.

The last time I hoofed the area, there they were again.

This couple had a small team of photographers and an assistant just snapping away while they smiled and made happy faces for the folks back home.

Awww … don’tcha just love it?

Pithy Tee-Shirts

The people who write tee-shirt copy are just so clever. They have a knack of summing up our innermost thoughts or the state of the world quite succinctly, using just a few words.

Take for example the tee-shirt I saw at the “Made in Hawaii” Festival last weekend:

Not only is it good advertising (anyone who’s been to a Big Dogs store knows that canine), it makes a statement on the economy AND on marriage. Don’t you just love the sentiment?

Seeing that shirt reminded me of another one I saw on a guy who was walking around the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center last week when I went on my monkey safari. His shirt said: Jus’ Fish. No Fight. I agree. Forget what’s bothering you and just go fishing, which, as true fishermen know, isn’t so much about catching fish, as it is … just going fishing.

And then, there’s the one I saw on a man waiting for a blood test at Diagnostic Laboratories two weeks ago when I had to drive the bunch of us for our quarterly blood-letting. His tee-shirt read: You’re Prettier When Your Mouth Is Closed. I called the wife’s attention to this one. The scratches are healing quite nicely, thank you.

Getting back to my monkey safari and my wanders around the International Market Place, I came across quite a few gift shops with tee-shirts galore. Here are a couple of my favorites:

· Don’t Steal. The Government Hates Competition

· If I Agree With You, We’d Both Be Wrong

· I Don’t Have A.D.D. It’s Just That … Oh Look! A Squirrel!

Finally, back at the “Made in Hawaii” Festival, I saw THIS one hanging on a rack, just begging to be taken home and worn:

Tee-shirts are like bumper stickers … they don’t take up much space and they can make you laugh when you least expect to.

Obama Kitsch

Kitsch … do you know what it is? It’s “excessively garish or sentimental art, usually considered in bad taste” (Princeton University).

When President Barack Obama was inaugurated, Obama kitsch erupted onto the scene like a Hawaiian volcano spewing hot lava. For you see, Mr. Obama went to school here and the people of Hawaii have claimed him as their own favorite son.

And so … they paid tribute. Heck, even I got into the game, publishing special souvenir envelopes that sold out at a collectors show last year.

But y’know, enough already. The stuff is still being made. Or at least, it’s still hanging around in the cheap-o gift shops that pepper the shopping landscape in tourist-oriented Waikiki. You can see Obama kitsch all over the place there.

I talked to the person at the store where I saw these Hawaii-themed Obama dolls, and asked if they were moving off the shelves. “Only when I dust them,” was her reply.

Apparently, store owners overestimated his popularity and stocked up on the Obama kitch. But the demand was never that great, and with the President’s popularity at a historic low, the gift shops are now stuck with lots of inventory.

Still, one of the side principles of collecting/investing is to buy what nobody wants, at cheap prices, and hope that the demand eventually goes up. Plus, if YOU like it, that’s all that counts, right?

(Giggle)

The Made in Hawaii Festival

Yesterday I did something I haven’t done in a decade and a half. I went to the Made in Hawaii Festival, the first one I’ve been to since 1995. It continues today and tomorrow, so you haven't missed it ... yet.

I vaguely remember the inaugural festival, and I have to say it sure has grown. This year, they filled up the Blaisdell Arena and the Blaisdell Exhibition Hall, leaving ample wiggle room in the aisles for lots of people.

And boy, were there a lot of people. They said in their publicity that they expected upwards of 35,000 people (mostly likely more) who are willing to shell out a miniscule admission fee of only $3. Why, the food samples alone are worth double that amount.

I’ve taken to attending events such as this in the past couple of years, since my retirement and since I’ve been blogging. It gives me something to write about – it’s fertile ground for blog post ideas.

I didn’t stay for any of the entertainment and/or cooking demonstrations, but it still took me more than an hour and a half just to navigate through the exhibits – wiggling here, side-skipping there, stopping for several minutes, detouring at times, and generally trying hard not to get stepped on.

Going to an exhibition like this one isn’t easy on the feet or the stamina. If there was a wheelchair or baby stroller in the aisle, I was the one right behind it. Good thing there were samples of all sorts of carbohydrates being offered or I would have fainted from low blood sugar. And thank God for the girls on the concourse who were giving melon samples that were cold and as refreshing as a cup of soda.

I usually stop and chat with people in booths, but at some point I was feeling woozy (all the oxygen was being sucked up by the crowd) and just wanted to get out of there.

However, when I was on my way back out, trying to negotiate my way behind some very elderly women, I heard my name being called. It was Beryl, one of my high school classmates! Hadn’t seen her since a couple of reunions ago. So we started chatting (causing a traffic jam on our side of the aisle, I’m sure), when who should appear but Iris, another classmate.

More hugs, more chatting. Good thing I didn’t decide to leave five minutes earlier or I would have missed them altogether.

Now, it would be nice to say that my car was parked nearby and I could just jump in and drive away, but I wasn’t even parked there. When I had arrived about an hour after the festival opened, the parking lot was full, and there wasn’t even any street parking for blocks.

What I had to do was drive home and ask the wife to drop me off, then come pick me up when I’d had enough and called her. And that’s what we did.

I snapped a few dozen pictures, and it wasn’t until I got back outside that I noticed a sign prohibiting photography inside the festival. Oops! I messed up, didn’t I?

Anyway, here are a few of the totally "illegal" pictures I took. At least I am able to share them with you, all made in Hawaii (products AND my photography):

Beautiful Photography

Hand-Crafted Jewelry

Beauty Products

Maui Jams and Jellies

Cupcakes, Cupcakes, Cupcakes

Spam-Flavored Macadamia Nuts

Gorgeous Colorful Lamps

People, People, and MORE People

Well, there it is. My feet hurt, my eyes are blurry, I got sunstroke waiting to be picked up afterwards, and I needed a drink of iced water badly. But I sure had fun!

(I think I’ll skip it next year.)

Early Christmas Display

I saw my first Christmas display of the year yesterday, in of all places, a hospital gift shop. Guess it’s never too early to get into the Christmas spirit.

I thought the Christmas trimming and decoration displays I saw at Sears in San Jose were up early last year (the first week in November), but this new one has that beat by a whole season. It’s still summer, and Christmas isn’t until winter, right?

The yuletide stuff is already on sale at the Kuakini Hospital gift shop. And, according to the lady there, they’ve been up for a week already. So tell me, if you have insight or a theory, why would a hospital gift shop put Christmas items up for sale so early?

Let’s see … I saw them on August 19 and if they’ve been up a week, then they’ve been there since August 12.

Holy Toledo! Or should I say, O Holy Night?

A Different Waikiki

It’s been years since I spent a half-day wandering around Waikiki, so my monkey safari yesterday was an eye-opener in more ways than one.

Summer in Honolulu is pretty hot – not so much the temperature, which was close to 90, but because it’s pretty humid (we do live in the middle of an ocean, y’know). It’s a good thing the trade winds were blowing in from the northwest or it would have been unbearable. Believe me, three hours in Waikiki takes a lot out of you.

The Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center has changed a lot. There used to be a plethora of smaller stores that carried specialty or unusual items. I bought a lot of monkey figurines in a small shop at the Diamond Head end of the center many, many moons ago.

It’s no longer there. Not surprising. But the character of the center has changed a lot. Now all you find are the high-end couture stores that you can find in any high-end cluster of shopping havens.

When I walked past the Moana Surfrider Hotel, a bedraggled tourist-looking guy with a wrinkled aloha shirt and ragged shorts stopped me and asked if he could use my cell phone.

What the hell? I told him no, and pointed to the Waikiki police substation, indicating that he could ask the cops. He didn’t like that, and walked away in a huff. Which told me he didn’t really want to just use my phone; he wanted something else as well.

The International Market Place is still there; that area hasn’t changed much, with dozens of kiosks and small gift/curio/aloha wear shops hawking stuff to the tourists. I had a good time there, chatting with the sales people and getting some first-hand commentary on how the tourism economy is doing these days.

The old Waikiki Theater – where my dorm-mates and I used to take in the first-run blockbuster movies in the mid-60s – was closed many years ago, and has been converted into commercial use.

No longer can tourists sit in the huge air-conditioned cavern before a large screen and contemplate the coconut and banana trees that adorned the sides of the auditorium.

Ah well … the more things change, the more today will seem like tomorrow’s yesterday.

(Oh, the monkeys … I found two.)

On Reading

During the past few weeks, I’ve gotten back into the habit of reading regularly, at least an hour each afternoon sitting outside in the shade.

Back in the day, reading trashy horror novels and contemporary Cold War spy and war stories were a regular part of my routine. Then I got interested in other stuff and reading took a back seat.

Recently, however, I’ve been seriously chopping into my dusty collection of unread paperbacks, as well as hard covers that I’ve bought at huge discounts over the past couple of years. I still haven’t cracked open my Tolkien Lord of the Rings Trilogy to re-read yet, but I’m working up to it.

I’ve discovered something. It gets more and more difficult to concentrate on the story when there are distractions – like the wife jabbering away about something obviously important to her that she wants to get off her chest, but which is absolutely of no interest to me.

Also, I’ve noticed that many times I’ll read a paragraph with no clear understanding of what I just read. My scholarly observation about this is: You know you’re getting old when your reading is too fast for your remembering.

Laugh of the Day

Regis Philbin hit the “On” switch of my giggle box this morning when he asked his guest co-host Jayde Donovan, “Do you have a text machine?”

Hey Regis, it’s called a “mobile phone.”

Dumb, Dumb, Dumb!

Imagine this.

You work at a bank and you get a phone call that goes something like this: “You dirdy rats, rippin’ off people with stinkin’ high interest! Who ya think you are anyway? We’re coming over in about 10 minutes and you’d better have a bag of money waiting for us – $100,000 in large bills, and NO DYE PACK! Ya hear me? NO DYE PACK!”

Well, you’d call the police, right? Right!

Albert Bailey, 27, and his 16-year-old buddy arrived at the People’s United Bank in Fairfield, Connecticut, where a teller gave them the money sack. When they got back outside, the police were waiting for them and arrested the two dorks in the parking lot.

Bailey dropped the bag and guess what? There WAS a dye pack inside and it exploded. And, to add another insult, the bag only contained $900, not the $100,000 they had demanded.

The dumb duo was charged with first-degree robbery. That’s a double-dip for Bailey, who was on probation for a previous bank heist.

According to Fairfield Police Sgt. James Perez, the suspects were “not too bright.” Really? I never would-a guessed.

I kid you not!

Shirokiya’s Food Court

Whenever we’re at Ala Moana Center, we usually check out Shirokiya department store's food court.

Without question, it’s the busiest area there, offering everything from fresh vegetables flown in from Japan to kitchen implements, a wide variety of tsukemono (pickled vegetables), deep-fried tempura, bread products, castellan cakes and other pastries, even local products.

They sell sushi, sweet potatoes, musubi (rice balls), chicken prepared in a variety of ways, noodles, mocha ice cream, Korean foods (e.g. kim chee, bentos), Chinese bentos, cookies and desserts.

Prepackaged snacks from Japan stack the shelves to the left of the escalator, along with Japanese serving dishes, sake sets and sweets.

Here’s a sampling:

Kim Chee

Packaged Vegetables

Vegetable and Shrimp Tempura

Picked Vegetables

Japanese/Chinese Bentos

Tea Pots

Imported Sake

Now … all I need is a bowl of steaming hot rice, some hot green tea, and a pair of chopsticks (all of which you can find at Shirokiya, by the way).

And no, they’re not paying me to post this. I just like going there.

A Triple Grumpy Day

You know how some days you just feel grumpy from the moment you wake up? That’s today. It’s a triple grumpy day for me.

First: I’m sick and tired of people who are making a hero of Steven Slater. You know, the flight attendant who lost his cool, swore over the intercom on a Jet Blue flight, grabbed two beers, deployed the emergency slide and beat a hasty retreat?

Yeah. That kook. Maybe he deserved to flip his lid that way, but that doesn’t make him a hero. Maybe what he did touched an “I’m mad as hell and I’m not taking it anymore” nerve inside some of us.

So what? He’s a terrible employee. Well, ex-employee. And you know what? He has the chutzpah to want his job back.

Second: President Obama just came out in support of the planned mosque near Ground Zero. He says it’s the American way, and that constitutionally, they have a right to do that. Freedom of religion and all that.

Fine. They have a right to build there. Nothing illegal about that.

But … just because you have the right to do something, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. Religious freedom does not mean clambering all over injured parties’ feelings. It’s just plain insensitive.

Third: I had plans for today, to finally get off by myself and do something. But now I can’t because of “duties.”

The wife … she keeps me grounded. Just this morning, she said … “You’re grounded.”

Does that add up to three? Yep. I am so looking forward to my week away from it all later this mornth.

Interesting Hairdo

Far be it from me to make fun of a person’s hair.

In my day I went from greasy side-swept back duck-tail in my teens to semi-bouffant long sideburns in my early professional life. Then when I got back to Hawaii, my hair curled at the back of my neck. Today, it’s a “1½” all around. As a friend calls it, a “basketball head.”

But I gotta say, the hairdo being sported by this young man working at the cash register of a local Jamba Juice really caught my eye. So I had to take a pic of it.

If I squint my eyes, his visor and hair kind of blend together and look like the silhouette profile of a … rooster. Bless his little heart.

Don’tcha think?

Flip or Flop?

While walking at Magic Island recently (all by my lonesome because the wife wasn’t able to join me that day), I came across an abandoned rubber slipper, just sitting there all by its lonesomeness.

It seemed a bit worn (notice the softly-abraded edges) but still usable, and I couldn’t help wondering why this particular slipper had been left behind. Surely whoever wore it must have missed it. I mean, how can you NOT miss your right slipper, y’know?

And then my mind went flying out in left field.

Since we call slippers “flip-flops,” would the right side be the “flop”? And, if the person who lost it were left-handed (and consequently, left-footed), would it then be the “flip”?

Hmmm. After careful consideration, and taking into account the color of the flip-flop, I concluded that I sincerely hope it wasn’t a “flip.”

Because then it would be a “pink flip” … and only those who’ve been laid off from work before will appreciate the significance of that.

I gotta stop thinking so much.

Mental Block … Block

My back hurts today, and it all started last night after I cooked dinner, then came into the office to write a movie review.

As I was sitting here concentrating, trying to keep my brain cells active and alive, the wife came in and interrupted me. I put my hand up, indicating I was finishing a thought and wanted to get it down before I forgot what I was thinking.

Couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds.

Then, I turned around and asked what she wanted. She stood there, staring at me, and then said, “I wanted to tell you something important, but I forgot what,” turned around and walked out of the room.

Maybe 30 seconds later, she burst back in and without any preamble, said: “I wanted to tell you that you forgot to turn off the stove and left it on.” In other words, she forgot what it was she wanted to tell me that I forgot.

The sore back? That happened when I fell off my chair laughing.

House Slippers

I’ve been looking for a good pair of leather cross-strap, open-toed house slippers for a long time now, ever since my last pair of Palama slippers worn down to a frazzle and broke apart.

You just can’t find them anymore. For the past few years, I’ve been using a pair I found at Sears on sale for $25, but now it’s almost time to replace them.

I found an unusual Japanese-made pair the other day at Marukai, and boy were they cheap. They had man-made fabric uppers, were open-toed, were light as a feather, looked pretty good, and were a penny less than $4.

Hallelujah, I thought. At last. They’re called “House Massage Slippers” and have lots and lots of tiny nubs that supposedly massage the soles of your feet as you walk.

Massage? More like “poke.” They just dug into the soles of my feet and hurt like the dickens every time I took a step. Maybe I just need to get used to them, I thought. That was two days ago.

I’ve decided to toss them. The kicker was when I took a shower last night and I stood in hot water. The bottom of my feet felt as though they were burning! Guess they just couldn’t handle the slipper nubbies.

So … the search continues.

Nursery Plant Sale

Yesterday, the wife and I went to the Oahu Nursery Growers Association’s final plant sale of the year in Thomas Square across from the Neal Blaisdell Center Concert Hall, at the corner of King Street and Ward Avenue near downtown Honolulu.

Plant and flower shows/sales are always a joy to me, because I love taking photos of flora that local residents take time and effort to care for. The natural color, patterns and beauty of plants never fail to amaze.

I took a few dozen photographs of plants/flowers that caught my eye, and thought I’d share a few of them with you:

(Panoramic View of the Plant Sale)

Bonsai Water Lily

Persian Violet

Jewel of Thailand

Dwarf Opium

Terra Cotta

Miniature Pineapple

If you’re interested in the association’s and/or its members’ shows and sales, you can check its website at ongahawaii.com. Check out the “Featured Nursery” pages. I did.

Not doing anything today? Then head on down to Thomas Square. The sale is open from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. today only. Miss today and you’ll have to wait until next year for the entire ONGA group to get together again.

There’s a Reason

There’s a reason for the sunshine sky, warm sweet nights and candle lights.

I saw this license plate in a downtown garage and wonder what this driver’s reason is.

Whatever … I just hope s/he lets his/her love show, and lets it flow like a mountain stream. ‘Cause it’s the season for a bird on the wing and all living things.

That’s the reason.

So ... let your love flow!

Free Weekend Biking?

I saw this notice in the Aug. 3 issue of the Honolulu Star-Advertiser “Health Calendar”: “Call the Hawaii Bicycling League at 735-5756 for information on free weekend rides.”

I was stunned!

“What?” I cried out, “You mean it isn’t free to ride your bike on weekends if you don’t call the Hawaii Bicycling League first?”

Never in my life have I heard of anything as offensive as charging people to … to …

Wait … um … never mind!

A Tweet Offer

I’m a little late on this one, but I just read about it in a doctor’s waiting room.

See, there’s this Dutch porn star … Bobbi Eden. And she’s apparently a big soccer fan, especially of the Netherlands team that got into the semifinal game against Uruguay in the recent World Cup in South Africa.

But she may have taken it a little too far in support of her “Go Orange” team.

She had about 4,000 followers on Twitter (y’know, the social networking website where you post thoughts in chunks of 140 words or less). Then she tweeted an announcement promising something to all her followers if Holland won the World Cup.

Four days later, on July 10, her list of followers had ballooned to 72.926 tweeters.

I would guess they were 99% male. You know why? You know what she offered to give all her followers if Holland ended up Number 1?

Oral sex. And no, I did not join the list.

This is just another sign that the Apocalypse is near.

Ukulele Exhibition

Connected to the Hawaii All-Collectors Show this weekend at the Blaisdell Exhibition Hall was the Ukulele Guild of Hawaii’s Ukulele Exhibition.

Since it was free, I decided to wander inside and take a gander at the beautiful hand-crafted “jumping flea” instruments they had on display.

The guild was showing a rare collection of vintage ukes from the early 1900s created with loving care by pioneer luthiers (makers of stringed instruments) of Hawaii.

Just catching a glimpse of the gorgeous instruments was enough to entice me to take a detour from my monkey safari. They rubber stamped the back of my hand so I could come back into the All-Collectors Show after I’d seen the ukuleles.

What do you think? Beautiful, huh?

(Click on the above picture for a panoramic view)

Now, THAT was an enjoyable detour.