“How the hell do I write poetry,” I asked my online friends. I’m not a poet, and my friends were eager to remind me. They suggested I stick with what I do well, which is prose.
Determined to prove them wrong, and with visions of wearing all black, sporting a goatee, donning a beret, and being surrounded by bohemian women, I set out to write a poem. But how do I do that? Well, I checked out some web pages on how to write poems. That prepared me as well as any college level class.
So on a boring Sunday, I hopped on my motorcycle, determined to write. I stopped by my work place to grab a tablet and a pen. Hey, there were some other people working. Crazy. Working on a Sunday. Don’t they know it’s the day of worship that should be spent goofing off?
Once armed with the tools of an author, I rode up the mountain. I finally made it to the canyon lookout, having to pass tourists like I was a MotoGP rider. The sky was blue. The air was cool. The breeze was gentle. The grass was green. The tree was lonely. So I sat on the green grass, under the lonely tree, feeling the cool air of the blue sky. And I wrote.
I quickly wrote two pages of really sappy stuff that I would be embarrassed to show my friends. If those pages ever got out, I would have to turn in my man-card. However, now that I had a bunch of thoughts, on paper in prose, I figured I just needed to distill the verbiage until what remains is just the essence of feelings. So off to riding again to reset my brain.
After a quick lap down the mountain and back, I started my rewrite. No wait. Before that, there was a Japanese tour group at the lookout. The translator was the mom of a childhood friend. She talked to me for a bit, then she talked to one of the female tourists. My Japanese sucks, but she explained how the tiger ears were mine, and how I was a 4th generation Japanese-American. That tourist kept staring and smiling at me. Of course I will admit that I am such a stud that foreigners can’t keep their eyes off of me, but I think the reason she kept staring was due to the way I was dressed. I had a shirt on that said, “pervert,” in Japanese.
So the tour group left and I was alone to rewrite my poem. I worked on it for about an hour. Scribbling, rewriting, erasing, thinking. In the end, I was totally unhappy with the result. I hate to say it, but perhaps my online buddies were right. Maybe I should forget about poetry and visions of beatnik grandeur, and I should just stick with prose.
The only thing I wrote that I was happy with was: She’s the etch on my heart that makes it skip a beat.
Showing posts with label tourist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tourist. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, November 19, 2007
I Should Not Be Allowed Near Women
Been a while since I wrote something. I actually had a busy October, but I promised not to write about it. So you guys will have to be satisfied with November. For November, I seem to be having weird interactions with women.
This is what happened when the Band Teacher and I went out to lunch one day:
We were seated and a nice caucasian waitress came over to take our order. After she left, I said, "she looks like she works out."
When the waitress came back with our drinks, I asked if she works out.
"I surf and swim a lot. I haven't been to a gym since I moved here though. But I love the beaches around here. I'm from San Diego, but the ocean around here is just so much better. Is it my large shoulders? Back in school, the guys used to ask me to flex. Do they look weird?"
"Not at all. In fact, I think you look very attractive."
After she thanked me, she went back to work. I talked to the BT about body language and how it's fun to see all these couples here and try to figure out what's going on. Then I said that if someone was watching us, they would be wondering what the hell was going on. I was looking at every single attractive female in the place while my "girl" took it casually. The BT said that if they paid attention to her body language, they should know we weren't a couple. I told her she was wrong. Then I pointed out how the hostess wanted to seat us side by side.
I then noticed the waitress had her back to us while she fiddled with those computerized drink terminal thingies. She had nicely shaped legs, but the BT refused to look when I told her to.
When the waitress came over with our food, I spoke again.
"I never got your name."
"Oops. I'm sorry. It's C*****. We're supposed to introduce ourselves when we first greet the customers. . . [she spoke too fast at this point]."
Lunch took some time to finish. I had a really big cheese burger and the BT had a fish taco. I told her to be ready because I was going to make a fool of myself. C***** came back with our bill.
"Hey C*****, what do you think of this? I'm a 35 year old teacher. I love mountain biking and riding motorcycles. Any of that sound interesting?"
"Yeah! I love motorcycles."
"How about movies? You interested in movies?"
"Oh, I do love going to the movies, but I have a boyfriend."
"Might not be a good idea then."
"Yeah. But um, aren't you with, um. . . your wife. . . girlfriend?"
The BT piped up, "oh no. I'm just the sister he never knew he had nor wanted."
"Oh, you two are just friends," C***** asked.
I replied, "yup. But the funny thing is we were just talking about how people would mistake us for a couple."
C***** finished with, "you know what? Thanks. You really made my day."
"No problem. In fact, I really enjoyed looking at you." [wtf was I saying? I need to stop drinking beer during lunch.]
Later that day, on my bike ride:
There's this one female security guard for the hotel where we ride our bikes. I saw she was working today, so I was determined to talk to her before I left.
I pulled up to the guard booth, and she waved. I stopped, took off my sunglasses, and said, "you know, I see you here often, but I've never introduced myself. My name is Squiggy."
She stood up and came closer to shake my hand. "My name is C*****."
"Hi C*****. So how does a girl like you become a security guard?"
"You know, I'm not quite sure myself. I keep trying to tell them to hire more women so I'm not the only one."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure how you'll take this. I was going to say that you were the most attractive security guard around here, but since you're the only female one. . ."
C***** smiles.
"Well, I guess I should let you get back to work. It does look rather boring though sitting here all night. Maybe I should sneak in some beers?"
"I'm allergic to beer."
I look stunned.
"So what do you do when you go out?"
"I hardly go out anymore. I usually stay home. When I did go out drinking, I would drink hards."
"You usually stay home? How old are you?"
"21"
"Twenty one??? And you don't go out drinking?"
"I used to drink a lot in high school," C***** smiles.
"Ah, I got it. It's no fun now that you're legal, huh. Well maybe I can take you out for drinks one night. I'll see you around."
"Yup. You will since you've seen me often before."
She later declined my offer a couple days later to get drunk.
This happened during the work week:
Girl Student: Mr. Squiggy, Miss [cute Science Teacher] told me to ask you something.
Me: Um, kay. . .
Girl: I'll tell you after class. (40 minutes later) Miss Science Teacher told me to tell you to buy a ticket to my hula performance.
Me: Huh? Why?
Girl: She bought one, but she doesn't want to go alone.
Me: So she told you to ask me?
Girl: Yeah.
Me: Um, kay. . . how much is a ticket?
Girl: $20 for the dinner too.
Me: Twenty bucks???
Girl: Yeah. Miss Science Teacher bought the $20 one.
Me: Great. OK. Meet me during lunch. I'll go get my money.
Email to Science Teacher: You're going to drive for this.
After mountain biking:
In the afternoon, while we were loading up our bikes, a rental car pulled up to the lookout. Out popped some old fogie and a tall, attractive blonde. We made some small talk about things to see around there. She, her mom I guess, her grandpa, and a hot sister were out for the day touring. They came on a cruise ship. The tall blonde looked good, and she was doing stretches in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to flirt with her. I guess I R-tard.
After jogging that afternoon with a girl:
The girl adjusted her sanitary napkin in front of me. I also matter-of-factly pointed out her nipples were showing. To which she replied that it's natural since she was wearing a sports bra and she was active. Then she started to poke at her nipple while I watched.
"Um, let's get going before something else besides your nipples gets hard."
The BT and I went to a bar:
There was another attractive waitress, go figure. However, she was dressed differently from the other waitresses. Of course, me being me, I had to ask. She explain that she worked behind the bar, and was also a food runner. She also explained that her uniform matched the guys, but of course, the one she wore was a more feminine style. I agree.
While the BT was settling the tab, I kept watching that attractive waitress. She was stocking some drinks behind the bar, and whenever she bent over, her top would lift a little and expose her lower back. I thought it looked great. No muffin top, no tramp stamp, no blemishes. Nothing but smooth skin. (The BT later asked how I was able to determine that in the poorly lit conditions. I hate her for ruining my dreams.) I decided I had to say something to the attractive brunette.
I took my chance when she walked past me. "Excuse me." She stopped. I reached out my hand, and she put hers into mine. I got to look at her close up for the first time that night. She was very pretty. However, several hours of mountain biking, including a crash, a 2 mile walk/jog, a couple of hours wrenching on a motorcycle, and alcohol, all conspired to give me the equivalent of a first grade reading level.
"Yes," she asked as I held her hand.
"You remind me of a Gilmore Girl." DOH!
To the old saleslady in a jewelry store:
"Can I get a fiance to go with this wedding band?"
In Macy's when a 5'8" blonde walked past me:
"Careful sir," warned a saleslady.
"Thud," said my foot as a kicked a shoe display really hard.
"Sorry. I was just looking at the pretty tall girl."
In a different store, helping my friend find a gift for his girlfriend:
Friend and I: Hi H****. (She was a friend's wife)
Me: Hey H****. If you were a girl. . .
Friend: What do you mean, "if?"
Me continuing unabated: What would you do if you got a stuffed animal as a gift? You'd probably just put it on a shelf or something, right?
H****: Yeah, probably.
Me: But what if someone special gave you a cute blanket. Or maybe a cute pillow. Wouldn't you love to get that?
H****: Oh yes!
(I threw in that last one more for discussion. Would women prefer something like a blanket or pillow to a stuffed animal?)
This is what happened when the Band Teacher and I went out to lunch one day:
We were seated and a nice caucasian waitress came over to take our order. After she left, I said, "she looks like she works out."
When the waitress came back with our drinks, I asked if she works out.
"I surf and swim a lot. I haven't been to a gym since I moved here though. But I love the beaches around here. I'm from San Diego, but the ocean around here is just so much better. Is it my large shoulders? Back in school, the guys used to ask me to flex. Do they look weird?"
"Not at all. In fact, I think you look very attractive."
After she thanked me, she went back to work. I talked to the BT about body language and how it's fun to see all these couples here and try to figure out what's going on. Then I said that if someone was watching us, they would be wondering what the hell was going on. I was looking at every single attractive female in the place while my "girl" took it casually. The BT said that if they paid attention to her body language, they should know we weren't a couple. I told her she was wrong. Then I pointed out how the hostess wanted to seat us side by side.
I then noticed the waitress had her back to us while she fiddled with those computerized drink terminal thingies. She had nicely shaped legs, but the BT refused to look when I told her to.
When the waitress came over with our food, I spoke again.
"I never got your name."
"Oops. I'm sorry. It's C*****. We're supposed to introduce ourselves when we first greet the customers. . . [she spoke too fast at this point]."
Lunch took some time to finish. I had a really big cheese burger and the BT had a fish taco. I told her to be ready because I was going to make a fool of myself. C***** came back with our bill.
"Hey C*****, what do you think of this? I'm a 35 year old teacher. I love mountain biking and riding motorcycles. Any of that sound interesting?"
"Yeah! I love motorcycles."
"How about movies? You interested in movies?"
"Oh, I do love going to the movies, but I have a boyfriend."
"Might not be a good idea then."
"Yeah. But um, aren't you with, um. . . your wife. . . girlfriend?"
The BT piped up, "oh no. I'm just the sister he never knew he had nor wanted."
"Oh, you two are just friends," C***** asked.
I replied, "yup. But the funny thing is we were just talking about how people would mistake us for a couple."
C***** finished with, "you know what? Thanks. You really made my day."
"No problem. In fact, I really enjoyed looking at you." [wtf was I saying? I need to stop drinking beer during lunch.]
Later that day, on my bike ride:
There's this one female security guard for the hotel where we ride our bikes. I saw she was working today, so I was determined to talk to her before I left.
I pulled up to the guard booth, and she waved. I stopped, took off my sunglasses, and said, "you know, I see you here often, but I've never introduced myself. My name is Squiggy."
She stood up and came closer to shake my hand. "My name is C*****."
"Hi C*****. So how does a girl like you become a security guard?"
"You know, I'm not quite sure myself. I keep trying to tell them to hire more women so I'm not the only one."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure how you'll take this. I was going to say that you were the most attractive security guard around here, but since you're the only female one. . ."
C***** smiles.
"Well, I guess I should let you get back to work. It does look rather boring though sitting here all night. Maybe I should sneak in some beers?"
"I'm allergic to beer."
I look stunned.
"So what do you do when you go out?"
"I hardly go out anymore. I usually stay home. When I did go out drinking, I would drink hards."
"You usually stay home? How old are you?"
"21"
"Twenty one??? And you don't go out drinking?"
"I used to drink a lot in high school," C***** smiles.
"Ah, I got it. It's no fun now that you're legal, huh. Well maybe I can take you out for drinks one night. I'll see you around."
"Yup. You will since you've seen me often before."
She later declined my offer a couple days later to get drunk.
This happened during the work week:
Girl Student: Mr. Squiggy, Miss [cute Science Teacher] told me to ask you something.
Me: Um, kay. . .
Girl: I'll tell you after class. (40 minutes later) Miss Science Teacher told me to tell you to buy a ticket to my hula performance.
Me: Huh? Why?
Girl: She bought one, but she doesn't want to go alone.
Me: So she told you to ask me?
Girl: Yeah.
Me: Um, kay. . . how much is a ticket?
Girl: $20 for the dinner too.
Me: Twenty bucks???
Girl: Yeah. Miss Science Teacher bought the $20 one.
Me: Great. OK. Meet me during lunch. I'll go get my money.
Email to Science Teacher: You're going to drive for this.
After mountain biking:
In the afternoon, while we were loading up our bikes, a rental car pulled up to the lookout. Out popped some old fogie and a tall, attractive blonde. We made some small talk about things to see around there. She, her mom I guess, her grandpa, and a hot sister were out for the day touring. They came on a cruise ship. The tall blonde looked good, and she was doing stretches in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to flirt with her. I guess I R-tard.
After jogging that afternoon with a girl:
The girl adjusted her sanitary napkin in front of me. I also matter-of-factly pointed out her nipples were showing. To which she replied that it's natural since she was wearing a sports bra and she was active. Then she started to poke at her nipple while I watched.
"Um, let's get going before something else besides your nipples gets hard."
The BT and I went to a bar:
There was another attractive waitress, go figure. However, she was dressed differently from the other waitresses. Of course, me being me, I had to ask. She explain that she worked behind the bar, and was also a food runner. She also explained that her uniform matched the guys, but of course, the one she wore was a more feminine style. I agree.
While the BT was settling the tab, I kept watching that attractive waitress. She was stocking some drinks behind the bar, and whenever she bent over, her top would lift a little and expose her lower back. I thought it looked great. No muffin top, no tramp stamp, no blemishes. Nothing but smooth skin. (The BT later asked how I was able to determine that in the poorly lit conditions. I hate her for ruining my dreams.) I decided I had to say something to the attractive brunette.
I took my chance when she walked past me. "Excuse me." She stopped. I reached out my hand, and she put hers into mine. I got to look at her close up for the first time that night. She was very pretty. However, several hours of mountain biking, including a crash, a 2 mile walk/jog, a couple of hours wrenching on a motorcycle, and alcohol, all conspired to give me the equivalent of a first grade reading level.
"Yes," she asked as I held her hand.
"You remind me of a Gilmore Girl." DOH!
To the old saleslady in a jewelry store:
"Can I get a fiance to go with this wedding band?"
In Macy's when a 5'8" blonde walked past me:
"Careful sir," warned a saleslady.
"Thud," said my foot as a kicked a shoe display really hard.
"Sorry. I was just looking at the pretty tall girl."
In a different store, helping my friend find a gift for his girlfriend:
Friend and I: Hi H****. (She was a friend's wife)
Me: Hey H****. If you were a girl. . .
Friend: What do you mean, "if?"
Me continuing unabated: What would you do if you got a stuffed animal as a gift? You'd probably just put it on a shelf or something, right?
H****: Yeah, probably.
Me: But what if someone special gave you a cute blanket. Or maybe a cute pillow. Wouldn't you love to get that?
H****: Oh yes!
(I threw in that last one more for discussion. Would women prefer something like a blanket or pillow to a stuffed animal?)
Friday, January 5, 2007
Blonde Abbegirl of Our Dreams
A friend of mine said, "you should write a blog about why I like blondes."
Yeah. Like I'm going to write something special for him, a guy. If he was more androgynous, then maybe I would consider it. Then again, I don't think he would make a good looking girl. He would probably be worse as a transsexual.
So I was going to forget the whole idea when I realized that I did write blogs for other people before. Plus, I would get to mention Abbegirl once again.
So why do we like blondes?
I'm going to take a guess at my friend's reasoning. He signed a waiver allowing me full control over his written opinions. I've learned my lesson from a previous blog.
I'm betting that he likes blondes because the local girls around here drive him nuts. He's been teased, dicked, and played by many a local girl. He's had his heart broken and toyed with. However, he seems to look back fondly on his previous blonde girlfriends. I guess to him, previous experience shows that blonde girls treat him well.
I forgot that some of you reading this may actually be haole. The original meaning of haole was foreigner. Over the years it has changed and it now refers to Caucasians. (how-lay)
The local girls would be your non-haole. Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Filipino, Portuguese, Hawaiian, Polynesian would be races considered local.
After listening to my friend, and mentally going over what I know, I think he has a point about liking blondes. What I see at work, with my friends, and in the community are the low standards of the local girls. All they want is a nice piece of man-ass. Doesn't matter if the guy is as dumb as a pile of rocks. If he got a bod, they want him.
Right now the two or three local girls who read this gibberish will start to feel indignant. Doesn't matter though. I meet about a hundred new girls each year. The vast majority follow the same pattern. They all want the hot guy even if he couldn't reason his way out of a paper bag. It doesn't change. Argue all you want. The facts remain the same.
So I think my friend might actually be smart for once. Instead of going for the girls who will just toy with us and dick us over, perhaps we should be looking for someone outside of this established norm. We should be looking at the haole girls. Hey, maybe one of those pretty blonde girls would actually give a troll like me a chance.
I'm sure one of them would. When I'm taking a rest break on my motorcycle, I watch the tourist. I see fat guys, ugly guys, guys with no character, guys who dress like corpses, guys who smell bad, guys with no tact, stupid guys, all with beautiful blonde girls. WTF? You know those girls are actually looking at the soul of the man when they pick their mates, unlike the local girls who look at the schlong.
In comes Abbegirl. Abbegirl is a very popular contributor to YouTube. I saw her in one of Minouye's videos and I told my friend about her. Since then she has become our new "pinup girl." She's pretty, bright, talented, humorous, and a major firecracker. Of course it could be just her onscreen persona, but we'll take it.
Awesome, eh?
I was kind of hoping to make funny videos like that, but my attempt went over like a lead balloon. Let's just say that from now on, certain things will be off limits on my blog.
So yeah. I guess we like blondes because they simply KICK ASS!
Yeah. Like I'm going to write something special for him, a guy. If he was more androgynous, then maybe I would consider it. Then again, I don't think he would make a good looking girl. He would probably be worse as a transsexual.
So I was going to forget the whole idea when I realized that I did write blogs for other people before. Plus, I would get to mention Abbegirl once again.
So why do we like blondes?
I'm going to take a guess at my friend's reasoning. He signed a waiver allowing me full control over his written opinions. I've learned my lesson from a previous blog.
I'm betting that he likes blondes because the local girls around here drive him nuts. He's been teased, dicked, and played by many a local girl. He's had his heart broken and toyed with. However, he seems to look back fondly on his previous blonde girlfriends. I guess to him, previous experience shows that blonde girls treat him well.
I forgot that some of you reading this may actually be haole. The original meaning of haole was foreigner. Over the years it has changed and it now refers to Caucasians. (how-lay)
The local girls would be your non-haole. Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Filipino, Portuguese, Hawaiian, Polynesian would be races considered local.
After listening to my friend, and mentally going over what I know, I think he has a point about liking blondes. What I see at work, with my friends, and in the community are the low standards of the local girls. All they want is a nice piece of man-ass. Doesn't matter if the guy is as dumb as a pile of rocks. If he got a bod, they want him.
Right now the two or three local girls who read this gibberish will start to feel indignant. Doesn't matter though. I meet about a hundred new girls each year. The vast majority follow the same pattern. They all want the hot guy even if he couldn't reason his way out of a paper bag. It doesn't change. Argue all you want. The facts remain the same.
So I think my friend might actually be smart for once. Instead of going for the girls who will just toy with us and dick us over, perhaps we should be looking for someone outside of this established norm. We should be looking at the haole girls. Hey, maybe one of those pretty blonde girls would actually give a troll like me a chance.
I'm sure one of them would. When I'm taking a rest break on my motorcycle, I watch the tourist. I see fat guys, ugly guys, guys with no character, guys who dress like corpses, guys who smell bad, guys with no tact, stupid guys, all with beautiful blonde girls. WTF? You know those girls are actually looking at the soul of the man when they pick their mates, unlike the local girls who look at the schlong.
In comes Abbegirl. Abbegirl is a very popular contributor to YouTube. I saw her in one of Minouye's videos and I told my friend about her. Since then she has become our new "pinup girl." She's pretty, bright, talented, humorous, and a major firecracker. Of course it could be just her onscreen persona, but we'll take it.
Awesome, eh?
I was kind of hoping to make funny videos like that, but my attempt went over like a lead balloon. Let's just say that from now on, certain things will be off limits on my blog.
So yeah. I guess we like blondes because they simply KICK ASS!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
The Magic of Ears
This is for my detractors. And this is me now laughing.
The ears, folks, they work! The ears have the magical ability to make me less of a stuck up b!tch, and much more approachable. They also increase my visibility on the road tremendously. I can't really prove that last statement, but because I said it, it's now a scientific fact.
You see, one of the greatest dangers to a motorcyclist is the inattentive driver. I read somewhere that about 75% of motorcycle accidents are caused by cagers, or car drivers. If you follow any motorcycle online message boards, you always read about some accident or another each week. The consensus is anything that makes us more visible on the road is good. Ears are good.
For some reason the ears are a hit with kids. No matter where they are, in a car, on the street, in a field, they will stop and look at me. They get a huge kick out of seeing the tiger eared biker.
Prior to the ears, it was rare that anyone would approach me at the lookout. Many people would pass the bike and nod or say, "nice bike." That was about it. Now that I have the ears, people aren't so afraid to approach and start a conversation, or at least try to get a better look.
The first week I had the ears, a tour guide got a look at them and yelled across the parking lot that the ears were cute. A cute, and really tall, Japanese girl stopped to watch me put on my gear. She kept saying, "kawaii." That means "cute." (I mentioned this before.) Now all I need is another bus load of Okinawan college girls. Lornette likes to tease me about it, but she just doesn't understand. A bus load of Japanese college girls. Right Guys? (Girls, think of a bus load of Ross's.)
(The second girl is Thai, but I wanted to show the impact of seeing more than one beautiful girl at a time.)
The other day I hinted in another blog that some tourist came and spoke with us. One of them said the ears were cute and that she recognized me from the town. They were at a shop on the side of the street eating shaved ice (snow cones). See how visible I am?
Today I got up to the lookout and just as I started to take off my helmet, a lady ran up to me.
"Those ears are great! I just have to take a picture of them. Can you put your helmet back on?"
And as I was leaving, another tourist started calling out to me. I had a hard time hearing him since I had my helmet on and was facing away, but he persisted.
"Sir, I just gotta tell you. The bike itself is awesome. But the helmet, the helmet makes it fukking phenomenal! My wife saw them and said, 'what the hell?' She thinks they're the coolest."
So there you have it. Irrefutable anecdotal evidence that my ears have been increasing my visibility and have been attracting people to me. Mission accomplished. Even the Fonz likes them. Ayyyyyyyyyyyyy.
The ears, folks, they work! The ears have the magical ability to make me less of a stuck up b!tch, and much more approachable. They also increase my visibility on the road tremendously. I can't really prove that last statement, but because I said it, it's now a scientific fact.
You see, one of the greatest dangers to a motorcyclist is the inattentive driver. I read somewhere that about 75% of motorcycle accidents are caused by cagers, or car drivers. If you follow any motorcycle online message boards, you always read about some accident or another each week. The consensus is anything that makes us more visible on the road is good. Ears are good.
For some reason the ears are a hit with kids. No matter where they are, in a car, on the street, in a field, they will stop and look at me. They get a huge kick out of seeing the tiger eared biker.
Prior to the ears, it was rare that anyone would approach me at the lookout. Many people would pass the bike and nod or say, "nice bike." That was about it. Now that I have the ears, people aren't so afraid to approach and start a conversation, or at least try to get a better look.
The first week I had the ears, a tour guide got a look at them and yelled across the parking lot that the ears were cute. A cute, and really tall, Japanese girl stopped to watch me put on my gear. She kept saying, "kawaii." That means "cute." (I mentioned this before.) Now all I need is another bus load of Okinawan college girls. Lornette likes to tease me about it, but she just doesn't understand. A bus load of Japanese college girls. Right Guys? (Girls, think of a bus load of Ross's.)
(The second girl is Thai, but I wanted to show the impact of seeing more than one beautiful girl at a time.)
The other day I hinted in another blog that some tourist came and spoke with us. One of them said the ears were cute and that she recognized me from the town. They were at a shop on the side of the street eating shaved ice (snow cones). See how visible I am?
Today I got up to the lookout and just as I started to take off my helmet, a lady ran up to me.
"Those ears are great! I just have to take a picture of them. Can you put your helmet back on?"
And as I was leaving, another tourist started calling out to me. I had a hard time hearing him since I had my helmet on and was facing away, but he persisted.
"Sir, I just gotta tell you. The bike itself is awesome. But the helmet, the helmet makes it fukking phenomenal! My wife saw them and said, 'what the hell?' She thinks they're the coolest."
So there you have it. Irrefutable anecdotal evidence that my ears have been increasing my visibility and have been attracting people to me. Mission accomplished. Even the Fonz likes them. Ayyyyyyyyyyyyy.
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