Tuesday, July 22, 2014

The compliment bank/ Dentist

It's been almost five years since I last went to the dentist. I know, gross right? My teeth have felt and looked fine. I brush and floss regularly so I figured that I didn't really need to go....and also because I absolutely hate the dentist. I hate the drilling, the sawing, the prying. I can think of about a million better ways to spend my free time.

But against all odds (and frequent stresses about how important dental health is from my mother)  I just went for a check up! Let me tell you. It was actually an MAGICAL experience.

It starts by walking into a gorgeous and zen office (nothing like the one in Waikoloa Village that I used to go to). Then they ask you to fill out some papers on their comfy couches and ask if they can get you any tea of coffee. Normally I would say yes but it seems odd to offer coffee when someone is basically going to be sticking their head in your mouth in the next ten minutes right?  That would be just mean.

My name is called by a pretty lady with glasses, a big smile, and scrubs. She is basically the coolest lady ever. We start talking about mountain biking, snowboarding vs skiing, and how awesome Whistler  is and that we are basically the luckiest people ever. She says that she truly cares about helping people and their dental health. I can jive with this I'm thinking. There are scenes of Blue Ocean playing on screen above me with subtitles so I'm also getting to learn about Walrus migration patterns while she carefully inspects my teeth.

Then the dentist comes in! He looks at my teeth and says... "you have gorgeous and healthy teeth!!! It's really been five years since you've been in?" I feel quite proud all of the sudden.

Then he says "Looks like you had braces." I did not I proudly tell him feeling like I must have won the genetic lottery.

The compliments continue... The assistant asks me if I was shooting pictures in the bike park because she thinks that she remembers seeing me. I tell her that it probably wasn't me and that I have a generic face because I often get asked things like "Are you older Jake's sister?" or "Don't you remember me from pottery class?" to which the answer is often "No, I've never seen you in my life" Then she genuinely replies "I don't think you have a generic face at all. I think you're actually quite beautiful." IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING!? I blush, how nice. It seemed like she was just being nice and genuine.

I told my friend about this who referred me about this awesome experience at the dentist. She had just gotten her wisdom teeth out. She infomed me that after the surgery they looked her in the eye and thanked her for being such a wonderful patient. She LOVES this particular office and had highly recommended it me. I too have already told everyone how great this place is.

So what I draw from all this is that Whistler Dental is that they are either:

A) experimenting with a marketing strategy where they just compliment people all day long to make them love the dentist, tell their friends, and bring in more business.

B) are downing happy pills

C) actually work for a good company and are happy people

Whichever is the case, I had an awesome experience. They should just change their name to "The compliment bank that sometimes cleans teeth." The dentist is now my favorite place ever.

Monday, September 23, 2013

The last two years

Occurrences since the last time I have blogged. 

1) Graduated from university!! Hallelujah. This picture should probably include beers, many types of other vices, my homies, and a snapshot of my gross all nighter face. 

2) Had an awesome internship and spent a lot of time with these lovely people. 

3) Discovered that olives are delicious. 

4) Went to Spain for a few months. (Where I discovered that olives are delicious)

5) Finished a triathlon or two and am obviously now fit enough to fight off any apocalyptic invasion. 

6) Dated like an grown up!

7) Whitney Houston died from being a coke whore. Sad. I kind of liked her.

8) I now work in a hotel? Cool. Here she is. Whistler, BC

9) Hmmm

10) Bought twenty million awesome swimsuits in Europe and did a lot of sit ups to rock them.

11) Snapped this amazing picture of my dog. 

12) Thought this was the one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

13) Taught a yoga class with more men then woomenz. Broga? Has that term been coined?

14) Justin Timberlake.I  actually gave his new album and listen and was quite taken aback by how smooth it was. Well done JT!

That's about all that's happened. Now we are caught up. So stoked to be blogging again!

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Unfortunate encounter

My aunt was visiting a few weeks ago. It was a really nice visit until I had to do something really dumb. My aunt and I were reaching the end of a very nice dinner and I wanted to use the restroom before we left. I walked into the women's washroom to and within a matter of five seconds I spot a urinal and then slowly look up to a man who was peeing. Without even thinking I accidently stared right at his dick then gasped "fuck", screamed, and then ran out of the washroom as fast as I could.

I'm not sure what is wrong with me. Why did I have to scream? Way to play it cool.. Unfortunately this is not the first time something like this has happened. Last year after a really good workout at my schools gym I accidently walked into the mens changing room to finally look up and find myself in the midst of five naked men were staring at me like WTF girl are you lost??? Clearly.

Ugh. What an end to a weekend. Just another day in the life :)

Sunday, September 4, 2011


The last summer has got me thinking of what I want out of life. Society tells us: go to school, get a "good job", get married, and buy a big house. I feel like all those people are stressed out and unhappy and sitting in a cubicle at a job they hate and worried about paying their mortgages and if their marriages are falling apart.

I think the definition of success has been lost in the last sixty years. Society says if you have all these degrees and a fancy house and a fleet or other flashy material goods then that is a success. Everything leads into the fact that if we have lots of material things then we are successful people. How does that even make sense? It's unreal. Corporations own everything. They manipulate us to buy things we don't need with the false allure that material goods will bring success and happiness.

Count me out. I used to aspire to have the big house and important titles. Something inside me has changed. I have awoke to a realization that I will not waste life being unhappy. I will not go down a career path (or any path for that matter) that I hate because it will make me a "success" in society. I define success as the passion and depth in your relationships, peace within yourself, waking up and doing something you love everyday, and sharing this passion for life with others. It's how much you enjoy the life you have. I want to teach snowboarding, work as an outdoor guide, own a dive shop. I want to do something I love with people I love. I don't care what people say. I grew up in a place where the people who did those things were labeled as burnouts. If I make 10$/hour after I graduate... but have a roof over my head, food to eat, a job that I love, and incredible people to share my life with. I ask you, how is that not success?

I was laying on the beach today in absolute bliss looking up at beautiful trees and cliffs and thought that I must be on this earth to experience all the beautiful things it has to offer.

I've been the happiest when teaching yoga, when admiring a tall tree, when swimming at the depths of the ocean, when surfing crystal blue waves, when my mother hugs me, when I look at an animal and know that in a sense we understand each other, when a snowflake falls perfectly on my fingertip, when someone I care deeply about smiles at me from across the room. Let me tell you. The beauty is in the earth and in each other. Not in junk from Wal-Mart. I'm praying that I'm not the only one who feels this way. We all have so much love to give. Don't gain the world and loose your soul. I want to live life lightheartedly and free. No room for negativity. This life is a blessing. <3

Love is my religion, Love is my religion, Love is my religion
I'll take you to the temple tonight
Well I'm done searching now, I found out what this life is worth
not in the books that I find, but by searching my mind"

-Ziggy Marley (Love is my religion)

Sunday, June 26, 2011

I feel great about discarding you as a mate.

This post is going to say retard a lot. I realize that being mentally handicapped is not a joking matter. 

I don't fall people easily... and there was a guy in California when I did a semester here. We dated a bit and then...who knows but he was so cool it was on another level. Anyhow, I ran into him the other day after a year and a half! deleted him of the facebook over a year ago and we had not spoken since. In a city of three million people. I was so shocked. He was clearly shocked too. We stared into each others eyes. Time felt like it stopped. I couldn't speak. Neither could he. And then. He did it. He gave me the retard wave. It's a slow wave lame wave. No arm extension whatsoever. Can be limp wristed or not.

I use under three circumstances:
1) When I'm super excited to see a friend who has previously acknowledged this wave as funny.

2) When I am and trying to signal my friends that the guy I am dancing with is a perv. (this type is accompanied by bulging eyes). Or can be used to make the perv think you are crazy.

3) When I'm nervous. (I have done this to a professor after leaving his office hour.... and then thought... no you did not just do the wave.) Or when I like someone. Or to neighbors who I don't really want to talk to.

So what did his slow ass wave mean? I just don't know! Never has a man used this tactic on me. His stupid good looking face making that limp wrist wave at me was all the closure I needed. I could have said hi. But I just stared and kept walking in shock. That wave was, wow! Really something, thanks man! I used to think that we shared something special. The only special thing we share is the use of this dumb wave. 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Not toothpaste

I was innocently going to brush my teeth. I put the toothpaste on my toothbrush and start brushing. I soon realize that this is not toothpaste. I spit it out and violently start scrubbing my mouth. It was that Icy Hot muscle numbing cream. It comes in a toothpaste tube now? SICK! I guess it must belong to someone else in the family. But seriously the packaging is the same shape and colour and toothpaste. It was laying on its and looked EXACTLY like toothpaste. I think they should be sued for confusing people who are not drunk and just trying to brush their teeth. I have scrubbed it all off but still it's tingling. Me and my numb ass mouth are very pissed.

What a special night. This must happen to lots of people right??? I remember a news story from a long time ago where some lady who put super glue in her eyes instead of contact solution and won millions of dollars in court after she sued the super glue company. I guess having a numb mouth temporarily isn't quite the same basis for a lawsuit as having your eyes super glued shut. I'm going to write in huge letters across this tube, "NOT TOOTHPASTE" to prevent any more future victims. Mostly myself.

On a side note. Earlier today I was in pool with my "kids" and the obese family beagle who hates water. I joking asked the dog if he wanted to go swimming. He looked at me and right then and there threw up something that looked like yellow moldy tomatoes on my feet. Now I have dog barf feet and a numb mouth. Sexy, I know.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

&hearts Ovaries

The royal wedding was lovely. Honest. But princess beatrice shows up wearing this!? Sweet jesus. It looks like ovaries!

Obama and his administration loved the hat so much that he made everyone else get hatz too. They wore them to the royal blowing up of Osama Bin Laden. April was such a great month.

Now I want one. Oh wait. No I don't. Who the hell wants an ovary hat? Oh shit, it sold for $ 131,000 on E-bay. Maybe whoever bought it is infertile and thinks that by wearing this hat while having sex- the royal fertile god will channel through the ovary hat and produce a child. That's the most likely explanation really. At least the hideous piece of crap supports charity. The money was donated to unicef. The designer of the hat described it as..."unique sculptural celebratory headpiece." Whatever ovary pervert hat maker.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Lucky grandpa/ fat ass biking.

I have a fabulous road bike in San Diego. My grandpa (grampy) won it in some grocery store drawing and gave it to me. I was thrilled. My cousins grandpa (we share grandpa #1, not #2) is a bike snob. Grampy and Grandpa #2 disagree about the quality of the bike. They make this disagrement vocal over family dinners, holidays, ect. The argument is usually something like this:

Grampy: Are you crazy!? That is a gorgeous bike
Grandpa #2: That is the biggest piece of crap I have ever seen! They don't even make bikes crappier then this! Look at how heavy it is! It probably came from some slave labor factory in China!
Grampy: Open your eyes John! It's a fabulous and stunning bike.

They continue to argue for a long time. Then they both get pissed off and don't talk much during dinner. This has been going on for two years. This bike has become a source of tension. I feel torn. I feel sad that bike snob grandpa is insulting my bike that I do love so much. But he does know everything and anything about bikes. Whether or not it is a piece of junk- it looks beautiful and rides great. I ride 20-40 miles a few times a week on it. We are training for the fourth of July run and ride! Bike snob grandpa should leave the bike alone. Maybe it is shitty compared to his $5000 bike that he always talks about. But I don't care. I love my bike anyhow.

Since I have been away at school this past year Grampy has also won a vespa in a grocery store drawing! WTF. He gave it to my cousins. Double WTF. They are seven and ten. Okay, well the vespa is kinda little- but still. What do they need it for? I guess the better question is why does my grampy keep winning all this cool shit in grocery store drawings? Maybe cause no one else enters them? I'm going to start. Maybe I will win a pony! Herez me below. Being hot is hard. OOPS forgots my helmet!

I <3 Biking.

Monday, February 28, 2011


I don't know what to say. Sometimes I wonder about the workings of my brain. Despite the fact that I function okay, I do some dumb things.

Example: Sometime in middle school at Hapuna beach. My best friend says, "Oh look! A portuguese man of war!"

A portuguese man of war is a very poisonous type of jellyfish with a bubble for a head. It's a blue jellyfish found in warm waters that looks like blue string. The plot plays out like this.

Alex: That's not a jellyfish
Akina: Yes it is.
Alex: No it's string from someones bathing suit!
Akina: No it's a jellyfish.
Alex: I'm SURE it's a piece of string.

I cup my hands underneath the floating string to find that alas it is in fact a very poisonous jellyfish. It wraps it tentacles around my entire arms. They stick like a million razors cutting my skin. You can't get them off. I scream and violently flail my arms. A cute lifeguard comes running. and takes me to the tower. He says that the only way to sooth a sting is to pee on it and that the salt in urine neutralizes the venom. He must have seen the shock on my face and said that meat tenderizer would work too. Thank god.

I'm not sure what was worse. Going home with giant welts laced up and down my arms or explaining to my parents why I picked up one of the worlds most venomous jellies. They laughed. Akina called me stupid for a long time. I always hear that you have to make your own mistakes to really learn something. But on this one take my advice. Don't pick up the blue string. Unless you like getting peed on... well then.

Hello. I am not string.

On a non jellyfish note. I often water my plants with the water in my kettle. This morning I made tea and then did some other stuff for about an hour. I then proceeded to water my plants before going to class. I forget that the water takes several hours to cool and watered my palm tree only to see smoke rising out from the soil. I just watered my plant with boiling water. I could legit hear it crying. Now it's drooping. I feel bad. I am going to be a horrid mother. Sorry little bud.

I can't wait for summer. Some homies are coming to HI. I have had such a good year that right now feels like a life overdose. Too much of everything. Feel terribly happy and terribly numb to so many things at the same time. There is always more going on then my chill brain is willing to process. I miss my family. Seeing them two weeks a year bums me out so hard. Sometimes I think that the world has been so unfair to me and then I realize it could be so much worse. But what can I do? I wake up, and am thankful to be alive. The love will overcome the frustrations.

I don't know why I pick up jellyfish and water my plants with boiling water. I also lit a accidently lit a napkin on fire at tonight's meeting/social. Today, I have also stapled my finger and locked myself out. Quite honestly that is the tip of the iceberg of the magic that is Alex. I think I need help. Sorry about the all the random information. Happy Monday!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Fuck Cupid.

A completely non-biased review of Valentine’s Day

(for those that don't read vanier vibe, here it is again with swearing yay). I have been feeling very uninspired lately. Nothing like this piece of crap Holiday to get the creative juices flowing again.

What is Valentine’s day?

♥ Singles Awareness Day

♥ “I would celebrate groundhog's day way before this lame day.”
♥ "Is it Valentine's Day again?" "Yes. Oh darn, I'm single. I don't get anything overpriced from my temporary lover."
♥ The reason why so many people are born in December.

I used to adore Valentine’s Day. The candy, the flowers, the cards! Couldn’t get enough of it. Then in my first year I worked at a flower shop for the holiday. All day long I helped cute guys pick things out for their girlfriends. My heart was full of warm fuzzies. I finally got off work and had a boy toy/boyfriend/that awkward thing you often have in first year that goes unlabeled that I was hoping to see when I got home. I’m not the kind of girl who expects things like that but after seeing romance all day I got my hopes up. He did absolutely nothing and didn’t even bother to acknowledge the holiday, sending a text saying he was going to bed before I got home. Normally that wouldn’t have shocked me but this stupid stupid Holiday puts all this nonsense into your head. Don't be a sucker. Wake up! It’s not real! Valentine’s Day is a way for the company that makes those chalky hearts with the corny sayings on them to make money. Honestly, they taste like soap and nobody would buy them if it wasn’t for Valentine’s Day.

Don’t let Valentine’s Day get you down this year! If you are single and/or have a black heart here are the top four ways to “celebrate” Valentine’s Day.

♥ Wear skulls and scowl at people who are smiling while they text on the bus making happy plans for later.

♥ Go out with friends. Look as hot as humanly possible. Drink one too many glasses of red wine and talk about how much you hate the other sex.
♥ Texas Chainsaw Massacre and skull cookie eating? Yes please!

Here's what one of my fav bloggers wrote about vday!

"I remember back in college when I never dated, when February 14th would roll around I would be consumed with depression. So one year I decided that I would just sit in my dorm room and watch television and treat myself to a pizza. I called up Domino's to place my order and began my night of celebrating myself. (Masturbation.) When the pizza arrived, I opened the box to see the most disgusting thing that could be delivered to a lonely person on Valentine's Day. The pizza was shaped like a goddamn fucking heart. It was a slap in the face to me who wanted to forget that everyone I knew was out with their boyfriend or their girlfriend. On the box was scrawled "Happy Valentine's Day!" but it may as have well said, "What kind of sad loser spends Valentine's Day alone in your dorm room? You suck." I cried. I ate my pizza. I masturbated. I cried again. Happy Valentine's Day."

Sorry to those that I may have offended, but honestly, Valentine’s Day is dumb. You can show affection ANYTIME in a non-corny fashion. This years vday got off to a rough start after my bestie showed me what her "boyfriend" had done to her room. He had taped chocolates to her ceiling, scattered chocolate everywhere, two vases of flowers, and like six boxes of chocolate, and made her dinner. WTF who does that??? I seriously almost threw up and also was slightly jealous. Then she said she needed help eating the 300 pieces of chocolate so I ate my feelings. Why is it then when chocolate is involved I turn into a major fatty???? Whatever though, this year was sweet. I snowboarded. I drank wine. I ate a delicious meal with my best friends at a ballin condo in Whistler. Fuck cupid. Another glass please. Excuse the language. I'm a sweet girl, really.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Jesus Thongs

I hope this is not offensive. But I think Jesus thongs are quite comical.

My family had just moved into a new house. I was at that awkward age where you sorta start to figure out what sex and all that stuff means. Although you really still don't know anything about it. I was maybe nine or ten. I did not know what a thong was, but I was about to find out.

One day a box came in the mail. It was addressed to the man who built our house about a year before and lived there for a few months before selling it. His name was Harry White. There was no return address, and no forwarding address. The package got opened and inside it was an invoice for 100 white "thongs." They were these skimpy undies with a string that went up your butt. I didn't get it. They had a graphic of Jesus on the front and said, "What Would Jesus Do?" underneath his face. Just googled "What Would Jesus Do Thong" and alas! This is exactly them!!!!! I had a box of 100 of them on my kitchen counter. Such good fortune.

I did not understand the humor. My mom and dad thought it was hilarious but tried to pretend like it wasn't. I asked if I could keep the box of undies. They said no. I was sad. I tried to figure out the meaning of this, "What Would Jesus Do?" that must be important if it is printed on every pair of underwear. I wondered if if meant that jesus would have to decide if he would wear the panties or not. Like some kind of ad for the company. You know, if Jesus decides to wear them, then you should definitely wear them too.

Harry was probably bummed about his missing 100 Jesus thongs. I wonder what exactly he was planning on using them for. Christmas gifts maybe? Some kind of crazy party? Tree ornaments? At least his misfortune of an address blunder was comical for everyone else and served as my first encounter with such genera of underwear. Thanks man!

I am in no way endorsing or not endorsing religion and am not trying to offend anyone. I blame the people who made the panties for their ill/fabulous humor. I wish something this fun would arrive by accident in my mail again.

Monday, October 25, 2010

The pros and cons of sleeping naked on a fault line.

I like to sleep naked and earthquakes follow me. This is a problem. In 2005, a massive one hit Hawaii. I was so scared and instead of running outside all I did was curl up in a ball in bed and put my head over my pillow. Luckily I was 15 and hadn't discovered the joy of sleeping naked yet. It shattered windows in our house, dishes were flung out of cabinets, and some houses experienced millions of dollars in damage. blah blah blah. I talked to my friend who lived down the street and she told me it was super funny because her parents ran outside completely naked into their backyard. I was shocked!

Life went on. Stupid stores made the "I survived the oct something 2005 earthquake!" T-shirts. Consumers are retarded.

Anyway let us move to San Diego, where I have lived the past two summers. It is important to note that I am now 19 and HAVE discovered that sleeping naked is magical. I live with my aunt and uncle and their two kids. They are fairly conservative ect. Anywayssssss this past summer there were SO many earthquakes. Not huge but several that made us all run outside. My aunt and uncle have this crazy mansion and I live in the furthermost corner on the second floor so every second is needed to get outside. I would waste at least 10-15 seconds clothing myself. Meaning that I could have died by being struck by an object because I didn't want my goodies to be revealed to my entire neighborhood. The quakes happened so much that I actually started sleeping with some type of clothing on. I had to ask myself, "Do I value my life or sleeping naked more."

It was painful, but seriously. Pros and cons, always gotta weigh the options. Here's a guideline on deciding if sleeping the nude is okay.

1. Do you live on a fault line?
2. Are you going to keep a stash of clothes by the door?
3. Who will be outside if you run out naked?
4. Will it be cold out there?
5. On a scale of 1-10, how much do you like sleeping naked? <7=doit.
6. How many potentially dangerous objects will you have to dodge?
7. Are you a fatass?

I guess the question at hand is now to evaluate my current situation. Earthquakes in the couv. Not so much. BUT people are saying there is going to be some massive one soon! But in that case, people may actually die and nudity is the slightest of problems.

This is me just a enjoying a nude car snooze just few days ago. Ah, raptor love.

Uhm vhat else. Life is good. I wrote this in my journal the other day. "have this overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be okay. " I can't say I have felt much of that in the past few years. So glad I switched outta econ into psych. School is so much easier. I think my next post is going to be the "crazy after grad plans" post. My life is so full of bs sometimes from external circumstances, but all I can do is make the most of it and be myself. My head is level. Frick get to see my bestie this weekend! oh wow, halo+reunion w/bestie+boat party+booze=bestweekendevaaaaa! Also found this lovely pic of my stepdad last year at a neighbors party. Think he is wearing curtains :) Good costumes must run in the family! Happy Halo Lovedoves!

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Foot Fetishes.

Think your foot fetish is weird? Are you embarrassed about it? Think again! According to researcher V. S. Ramachandran foot fetishes are perfectly explainable. In cognitive psych this thursday my professor analyzed foot fetishes. Basically our sense of feeling is all located on a sensory cortex strip in the brain. Parts of our bodies have a part corresponding piece of brain tissue on the strip that allows us to feel things. Unfortunately the parts of our bodies are not in any particular order on the strip in accordance with where they are located on our bodies. One would think that hands would be next to arms on the strip, but they are in seemingly random order. Notice where feet are located?


  1. Leg
  2. Forearm
  3. Wrist
  4. Hand
  5. Thumb
  6. Eye and Light
  7. Nose
  8. Face
  9. Lips
  10. Tongue
  11. Primary visual cortex
  12. Where images are first processed
  13. Sex organs and feet

Example of a foot fetish: Carrie always walks around barefoot, and she always has her toenails painted. Her feet are so sexy... all I want to do is make love to them. I must have foot fetish.

Celebrities with foot fetishes... Ludacris, Britney Spears, Pharrell, Andy Warhol, Elvis, Quentin Tarentino, Enrique Igleasias (gasp really I guess he could touch my feet if he really wanted????), Ricky Martin, and Jack Black.

Some researchers have hypothesized that foot fetishism increases as a response to epidemics of STDs. Right-O doc. I'm not into feet. But whatever, I thought this was interesting. People who like feet are still weird, maybe just a bit less weird. However, a brotha can't fight psychology. Happy sucking (or rubbing or whatever it is that they do)!

Monday, August 16, 2010


I hate feeling stupid. I hate it even more when a guy makes me stupid. I hate it when my grandma makes me feel stupid. I hate it the most when a guy and my grandma make me feel stupid and it involves sucking at a board game.

So one night last year a friend from school who was in Vancouver (I was in San Diego) asked me on facebook chat if "I wanted to play scrabble." Seeing that we were in different cities, I thought he was joking. So I said, "how did you know?!?" Next thing I knew I was invited to an online scrabble game. Oh, he was serious.

I go along with it and play the stupid scrabble game. He is really fucking good. It's humiliating. He uses almost every single letter on every turn. He uses words I have never heard of. The score was like 400 to 50. He spelled thing like ambiguous and the longest word I got was goat. We weren't that good of friends so I left feeling rather humiliated about about little rendezvous. He later told me that his mom had been the state champ at scrabble and he was a badass too.

Another time was when I was visiting with my grandma a couple of years ago, and a similar experience happened. She killed me-completely put my words to shame. So now after another experience like this I am pretty sure I am border line mentally handicapped. It was time to take action. I went home to Hawai'i to find my mother had also become a scrabble maniac. She humiliated me too. So I began to play with her everyday. I got pretty into it and started memorizing obscure words that use Q and X.

My game has improved significantly and I would like a rematch with my friend. I play almost everyday with my two cousins. They are six and nine. The six year old is named John. He doesn't pronounce his Rs and says, "ALEXXXX!!!! Can we play scwabble???" He can't come up with words so I sabotage his turn and innocently suggest words to him that better my agenda. It's sick but I love winning. This way I can take advantage of their young minds to get my daily satisfaction of a win. I remember my stepdad telling me during tennis season of my senior year that he didn't think I had that "fire to win" that a true competitor has. Guess he was wrong.

fresh veggies, sunshine, scrabble, and a beautiful man. What more could a woman want?

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


I have looked at some web sites about ways to improve a blog ect. They all give ideas for posts such as "interview someone from your niche" or "Use compelling graphics/charts outlining interesting numbers/facts about something in your niche." "Discuss a current event in your niche." I don't want to have a niche. You may not confine me to a stupid niche.

On a non-niche note...

I'm so into scuba. High off it right now. All I can think about is "fuck school, I want to advance my dive career!" I want to take all these cool dive courses like wreck diving, night diving, rescue diving, and maybe even become a divemaster. It's so cool to be able to breathe underwater. Enough said. Have a trip planned to La Jolla cove this weekend and to Catalina island the next. So so so excited.

Also boo-boo moment this last Friday. At a grad party for a neighbors son... My little cousins beg me to do the "walk on my hands trick." AKA I can walk on my hands fifteen yards or so. A bunch of people start getting excited about it so I finally agree. I walk across the pool deck maybe fifteen steps and then my elbow completely gives out and my chin slams into the gravel surface with no brace from my arm whatsoever. I look down and there is blood on the ground and twenty sets of eyes on me. They scream "are you okay?" "let me get you some ice" ect. I was fine... I was bleeding out of a huge gash on my chin, but not hurting too bad. I had drank a single beer and can't help but wonder if this beer was the culprit of my super humiliating wipe out in front of so many people. So lame. I hold a napkin up to my chin the rest of the night to stop the bleeding. Some cute guys show up, I don't know if they were cute. I looked like a dick with my bloody napkin and all, so I hid in the corner all night. Wouldn't you have done the same?

No wonder I'm single.... and obviously not so ready to mingle.

PS. Heard a couple funny jokes from a trolley driver the other day.

Where is a pirates favorite place to eat? Arrrrby's.
What is a pirates favorite food? Arrrrtichoke
What is a pirates favorite kind of socks? Arrrrgyle

Tuesday, July 27, 2010


'Ua mau ke ea o ka aina i ka pono.'
The life of the land is perpetuated by righteousness.

My favorite beach is 69s.
69 mile marker, that is.
It never used to be paved.
You used to be able to bring your dog.
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.
About four years ago.
It became more crowded.
But not like the day I freaked out.
After a few hours of baking in the sun.
L and I return to the car.
On the way out the main entrance is clogged.
70 lost looking asian tourists are also leaving.
I see more tourist then beach.
A tour bus.
Since when do tour buses come to my favorite beach?
L says, " it was like this last summer."
Shower has at least 40 people waiting.
Weave through people like a crowded city sidewalk.
This is not a city.
This is the big island.
This is my home.

I finally get to my car.
I try to reverse but the herd pays no attention to my car.
They have no sense that they block the road.
I have to honk to get them to get out of the tiny road.
I feel as though my body is melting into the leather seats.
Bothered. Throughly bothered for a few days.
What is happening to this island?

*Change is hard. 69s has always been the chill beach where people are cool and it's never as crowded as Hapuna (which is less than a half mile away and is frequently rated as best beach in north america). I feel weird about the hateful feelings I felt for these tourists. They didn't ask to go there. They have just as much right to enjoy it as I do. Yet I feel so territorial. This beach is a part of me. A part of the Alex as a little girl, and the Alex now. Like, this beach is not supposed to be crowded and now it is and you have ruined it and get out. I was surprised how strongly this whole thing affected me. What's next? An elevator down to Waipio? A gift shop in my backyard? The development going on the big island scares me to death. Now we have a target... and all these other chain stores. I guess what frightens me most is that if the land that has taught me so much and made me who I am can be so vulnerable and weak to the outside changes, then so can I. The slow life, small population, respect for the land, and lack of consumerism have entirely created the way I think and feel. I don't want to lose that uniqueness in the place I call home, or more importantly in myself.

An ode to 69s... I stole some of these pictures from Sarah Lee. Shit she takes AMAZING photos. The only way to do 69s any justice.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Car sticker families.

I have noticed an epidemic here in southern California. Sticker families on cars. Writing with car markers. And the horrendous sticker... "my child is a superstar at blah blah blah elementary school." Maybe I am insensitive because I don't have kids or a family. These were a bestseller in Michaels. Ugh. I hate the ones the are pairs of slippers according to how large the member of the family would be. Like so

If you Johnson folk can afford a BMW, then you ought to be able to not ruin your beautiful vehicle with such complete and utter gayness. I really have a problem with the sticker fams. Love your family-great me too. Keep it the fuck of my car-yes.

Anyhow summer is rolling along. One month until I'm back in Vancouver. I'm excited to leave San Diego, I'll say that. I feel so alone here. There is something about being here that makes me sad. In this room, in this house, I spent the entire last term as depressed as can be. I don't want to be her anymore but every place I go reminds me of darker days. I have mixed feelings about going back to school. My best friend not being there is a huge, beyond huge downer. Being moved back into first year rez (not to mention the all girls dorm) is also a somewhat downer. I'm so sad to go back to eating in a cafeteria. One of my pure joys in life is 1) making breakfast in my undies 2) taking my jeans off the second I get home. A cafeteria requires me to re put my jeans on and go to get food and be social. I'm not a social butterfly. I prefer my food without presentable clothes and small talk. Deep breaths and make the most of it. My christmas plans are set. Amanda (my friend since third grade Waikoloa elementary) is coming to Vancouver!! We are going to do a bit of traveling in the local area and hopefully settle for christmas in Whistler. I'm really excited to finally have a white christmas. Although I will miss home and my mom and Keaka, I am really excited to spend the holiday snowboarding.

I just finished my pool scuba dives, and have two ocean ones next week. Mahalo to my uncle who paid the $500 for my official certification. I have a feeling I will be scuba diving tons now that I legally can. Stooooooked.

Oh and also. I run a lot. You ought to know. There is this guy.... I see him running frequently at the same times as I do. And uhm well.... Dear hot guy with sexy tats and a ridic 6 pack that I have been having eye sex with for two months, I would like to take our relationship to the next level. He loves me, He loves me not.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


For those of you who do not know, I work as a nanny in San Diego. This incident took place at Del Mar beach.

Poor Alejandro. His grandpa has been eyeing me teach my little cousins how to surf. My nine year old cousin has stood up a couple times now. The board gets away from her and hits up against this old mans shins. He is very tanned with green eyes. He is about seventy and his skin looks like sun beat wrinkly leather. He says, “you’re a good teacher! You could teach me!” I laughed and flashed a huge smile. Whatever old man.

Twenty minutes later he is still patrolling this section of the shallow water again. My board washes up right next to him. He sort of grabs it and then turns to the shore. “ALEJANDRO! COME HERE!, “ he yells toward a boy well on shore. Alejandro looks but does not come. “ALEJANDRO, COME HERE,” the old man demands. Finally Alejandro makes his way out from under his shady umbrella. He is about fourteen, braces, and chubby. His face is beet red and made much more noticeable by his skin tight white rash guard.

“This pretty girl wants to teach you to surf, “ he tells Alejandro. I do? Since when? I would rather get a peck from a shark then endure what would be the most awkward surf lesson of my life. “You will take him out right?” grandpa asks “This is Alejandro from Mexico city. What is you’re name?” I say Alex. “Oh same name, meant to be!” grandpa leather face exclaims. I agree to take him out but only because I know he is way too embarresed to touch my surfboard. After I say fine, Alejandro looks like he is about to die of embarassment and keeps saying things like “not now” and “later.” Him and grandpa argue for a bit. Alejandro basically books his chubby cheeks back to his chair and I walk away. My cousins laugh. I laugh too as I remember all the times my lovely step father has embarresed me.

Just a month or two ago while I was home in Hawaii, we went out to get dinner. Our waiter happened to be quite cute. He had blonde surfer hair, a glorious tan that only comes from a life in the water, and cute freckles sprawled across his face. I made the mistake of making a comment and said that I though he was cute. After dinner plates were cleared, my step dad, whom I call Keaka did the unthinkable.

Keaka- You know my daughter Alex right?
Hot surfer waiter man- No I don’t think so…
Keaka- Well you should. What school did you go to? (He makes us compare schools, we obviously do not know one another.)

I had to leave dinner, luckily it was over anyway. It’s just not right. I can only imagine if my grandpa had done that to me while on vacation and I was fourteeen and the guy was a hot twenty something stranger on the beach. I would have died!

I feel for you Alejandro. Maybe if you were ten years older and sexy, our future together may have been different. You need to tell grandpa leather bones to find you a target in your age range. Peace homie or should I say adios!