Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

Monday was the Mad Cow's 6th birthday. As usual, my Mommy guilt set in and we ended up making a simple afternoon snack at Kindergarten into a major production. My poor friend SH had to haul her heavy shave ice machine to the Clubhouse for us to use since Oscar the Grouch was not in the mood to spend his Yom Kippur in traction carrying the 2 ton made-in-Occupied-Japan lead paint covered shave ice machine that belongs to the veterans. I have to say, it was worth putting Oscar into physical dismay because SH's shave ice machine makes that really ono fine shave ice like they sell at Waiola Store, good enough to wait for hours in the hot sun behind tourists who smell like coconut oil and ask 1000 questions about snow cap.

As the third child of old fut parents, poor Mad Cow's celebrations are usually poorly planned, last minute affairs involving something that we can do with minimal effort and minimal cost. He wanted a bowling party but as he has only been in school for about a month and we don't know the kids, let alone the parents, we talked him out of a party involving his schoolmates. We played mind games with him and got him to agree that he would rather have a really expensive good birthday present with a smaller party instead of a dinky, junky present with a big party. So, his daytime bowling party for 23 kids and a parent has turned into a nighttime cosmic bowling party for 3 cousins, 2 siblings and us.

We did not make any arrangements to go out to dinner. Mad Cow wanted to have dinner at Aiea Bowl on Monday evening but we told him the freeway was shut down because of traffic. I mean, we eat breakfast and lunch there pretty much every Saturday when he was bowling league. Since Oscar had a coupon, we told him how fun it would be to go and eat at the restaurant with the aquarium. He agreed and we headed off to the Oceanarium at Pacific Beach (armed with a 25% off coupon and very low expectations). It didn't seem like a good sign to call at 5:00 and get a reservation for 5 people for 6:00 without a problem.

Things were looking up when we walked to the restaurant and saw my friend, LS, who works for the hotel. Oscar was happy because she gave us another coupon for 20%.

We were shocked that the place was packed - about 50-50 tourist to local ratio! Who said Waikiki was dead? There was a line at the door the whole night. We were even more shocked at how totally delicious and fresh the food was. Like I said, we weren't expecting much but the spread blew us away.

The spread featured a seafood buffet with crab legs and seafood pasta, prime rib, sushi, poke, and more. Everything looked good - nothing was dried out and items were replenished immediately. It was so good that the usual anti-fish children actually tried eating crab (well, mostly it was using the crab as a utensil to spoon butter into their mouths without us yelling at them). We evil parents let the Mad Cow eat three servings of pasta with "white sauce" without mentioning to him that the "herbs" in the sauce wer actually bits of clam meat. He loved it - ate huge portions nonstop. I guess anything covered with an inch of parmesan cheese tastes good.

The Diva are shrimp scampi and clam chowder, both doused in shoyu. Hey, you can dress up a Tita and take her into Waikiki but she will still pour shoyu over everything. She made us want to puke though when she started dipping pieces of cheese and then pieces of shrimp into the plate of chocolate sauce from the chocolate fountain on the buffet. The worst part is, she actually ATE these things after they were dipped.

The Professor stuck to the basics, meat and pasta with red sauce (no unidentifiable bits of clam though). He did try crab and also nigiri with sashimi on top. He decided that he is more of a lobster man though. If you ever wondered if it is worth paying private school tuition, think about this. The Professor also visited the chocolate fountain on the buffet and dipped in some fruit. However, he did not PEEL the bananas before dipping them. When he got to the table, he was trying to remove the peel on the drippy and messy chocolate covered banana. Again, sealing his fate as the incredibly bright kid with no common sense.

Now, I am not a big meat eater but I love prime rib. I am the type of person who loves that fatty, salty, burned end cut that is usually put on the side so normal people can eat the normally delicious parts. I love that gristly hard end cut and will shove anyone on the side who will get in my way to that artery clogging cut of cow. I was in bad karma carnivore heaven because it was so soft and ono! Probably the best piece of prime rib I have had ever. Very yummy horseradish sauce too.

It is a tradition in our family to request the "Happy Birthday" sign in the aquarium. I'm sure everyone has done this at least once in their life. During the meal, a scuba person goes into the aquarium and puts up a sign with your name and a message. Our message was "Happy Birthday Mad Cow, We Love You, Mom and Dad". Mad Cow was thrilled since everyone in the place clapped for him when the sign was put up and the bikini clad scuba girl waved at him. The sign stayed up for about half an hour before they took it away. We thought he would have a Mad Cow tantrum but it was deflected by a huge piece of chocolate cake and the singing of "Happy Birthday" by the waiters and other diners. Mad Cow was thrilled and his smile filled the room.

Oscar was not smiling when the bill came minutes later. Not because of the cost of the meals but because there was a $20 sign fee tacked onto our bill! He had not been told that there was a fee for this service when he asked for it nor had we ever been charged for it in the past. At first, we thought they had made a mistake and charged us for another buffet meal but there it was, sign charge! We would have done it anyway if we had known in advance about the charge since we knew the kids would get a kick out of it but boy, that was a surprise to see that at the bottom of the bill!

You'd think for $20 they would at least leave the sign there for the duration of our meal and not for a short time.

We wondered what would happen if this was prom season and some poor broke high school kid who was saving his money for a nice meal asked for the sign to impress his date, only to realize he was $20 short when the bill came!

But then again, this IS Waikiki, right?

Happy Birthday Mad Cow! We love you but next year, we'll bring our own sign for free.

Who Needs GI-Joe? I've Got My Own Real American Heroes

Last Friday, I was invited to a Welcome Home dinner for some soldiers who recently returned from Kuwait. My friend, BT, overestimated my social skills and unwittingly asked me if I would help with the dinner. He also asked me if I could get my "toxic twin", LN, to help out. Well, his exact words were, "I need someone to do the GIRLY stuff."

If you have had the pleasure to be around LN and I when we are in "dysfunctional duo" mode, it can be either a hilarious or a painful experience. It all depends on whether we let you in on the joke or decide you are the butt of the joke. Most of the time it is just the two of us verbally sniping at those innocent people who we are supposed to help. Think Perez Hilton but with raging female hormones. The strange thing is, our snarkiness is contageous and before you know it, we had a large contingency of snarky folks commenting on the dress (or lack thereof) of anyone who walked passed us.

It was a darn good time for all who did not hear us.

Now, if this was back when I was in high school or college, the prospect of spending the evening surrounded by guys in the military would fill me with dread. Images of caucasian jar heads hitting on my posse at Bobby McGees fill my brain. Thoughts of non-racist rejection lines thrown at popolo soldiers offering to buy us drinks float by. The very word, military, was said with a sneer. They were not part of us. They were from mysterious, unknown, forbidden lands known as Pearl Harbor, Kaneohe, Shafter or (shudder) Schofield Barracks. If you are of a certain age, you know the connotation that was implied when it was disclosed that a girl "dated military guys". Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho - it's off to slut town she go.

How ironic that I now spend most of my waking life surrounded by former and current military personnel...and I enjoy and cherish every minute I get to be in their company.

Granted, they are mostly local folks with a yellow or browning tinge to the skin and can turn the pidgin off and on.

Having the privilege of celebrating this return home, I know that there are many kinds of heroes.

Of course, the soldiers themselves. These guys are all citizen soldiers who left "normal" lives for a second tour of duty. A tour that should have never happened. A promise broken by the almighty all-knowing US goverment. Yet, even in the face of injustice directed at them, they went and did their duty for their country. Just as the boys of the 100th did almost 70 years earlier. No questions asked, just save the world and keep us free.

I felt very honored to be able to help welcome these guys home. This was their 2nd tour to the Middle East and they had lost a few comrades both times. Yet, they all wore huge smiles, laughed heartily and were clearly in love with everything that comes with being home.

Kind of felt a little cougar-ish as they were also GORGEOUS and blazing hot.

I also realized that their wives and Mothers were also heroes. I was touched that so many of the soldiers brought their Moms or even Grandmas as their dates!

Not only were the soldiers young but their Moms and Grannys were also youthful. I swear, I was probably a good decade older than some of the grandparents who came.

I could not take my eyes off my friend, TK, as she anxiously awaited her son's arrival to the dinner. You could just feel the joy and happiness emanating from her that came from knowing her little boy was home. Her eyes sparked as the thought of him and I know her heart leaped each time she mentioned his name. She has not only been HIS biggest supporter but wholeheartedly "adopted" everyone in his battalion. There was not one care package sent but hundreds. There was not one e-mail for him but a whole website set up for everyone.

The ability to spread your maternal devotion around is the sign of a true Mommy - not a Mother or a Mom - but a Mommy. You know, the Mommy who packs an extra PBJ sandwich for her kid's best friend who gets salad for lunch. The Mommy who will slap your head if you get wise, even in public. The Mommy who will give you a big goodbye kiss in front of everyone just because it embarrasses the hell out of you. The Mommy who will send you a file baked in a cake if you are imprisoned. The Mommy who would take a bullet for you, throw herself in front of a moving car or wash your skid marked BVDs with her bare hands. A Mother will lecture you about the dangers of alcohol, a Mommy will hold your hair as you barf in the toilet and play loud music the next morning to teach you a lesson as you nurse your pounding hangover.

TK is my Mommy hero and not just because she is a doggy-maniac like me. Maybe next time we will convince her to put her purse down as she anxiously paces the floor.

Their wives and girlfriends are heroes. I could not survive six weeks as a single Mom this summer. Had to take a couple mental crying breaks at Longs Drugs or locked up in my room. These ladies did it for years without complaint. They were strong, caring, compassionate and held down the fort. They too were beautiful and radiated joy and happiness. I know I pale in comparison to these ladies - I'm not worthy.

Finally, as much as I harass him, my friend BT is my hero. All the veterans - those in their twenties to those in their nineties - adored him (and not in a gay castrated dragon way) and it was clear that they respected his authority. As I watched him frantically running around making sure everyone was signed in and taken care of, I was reminded of the kudos that were given to General Shinseki during his confirmation hearing as Secretary of the VA. The common thread amongst these recommendations, whether from civilian layperson to high maka maka officer, was that General Shinseki truly cared for those he commanded. That was the highest complement and evident if you know anything about the General. He also cared about his country and every American. I can say the same thing about BT. Maybe he is only a jizo in the inside and not just the outside.

I'm still going to make fun of him mercilessly though...until he agrees to date one of my friends.

Welcome Home to all of our Real American Heroes!

Going the way of the Dodo Bird - Old School Traditions

Today, I and the other parents in our P (no T) A received a e-mail from the head of our kids' school advising us that he had decided to cancel a traditional Senior ceremony that was the highlight of each and every Homecoming season. The stated reason for the cancellation was that this ceremony, which was conducted by the students who had been at the school since Kindergarten, was devisive and went against the philosophy of unity expounded by the school. The head honcho added that he rescinded his cancellation when the students who could participate in the ceremony (the ones who had been there from K to 12) decided they would open it up to every student in their graduating class. The end result is that this ceremony will now be performed by a select handful of students, some faculty members and administrators while the remainder of the Seniors gather around them.

Now as much as I am a proponent of living as much of a PC life as possible, I HATE this new procedure! I have attended this ceremony every year since the Diva and the Professor started at their school and it is always very moving, powerful and emotional. I marvel at the dignity of the students and the overwhelming sense of school, personal and familial pride that permeates the atmosphere around them. It is electric and pulls you in. You cannot help but see the faces of your own children in those of the young men and women who stand shoulder to shoulder at this ceremony. It is a moment that every parent of a Kindergartener secretly dreams of as it confirms that indeed, your child is truly one of the chosen, one of the golden beings, one who deserves to be celebrated. Yes, I know that sounds totally egotistical and elitist but darn it, that is the unspoken reality of private school parenting (shudder and cringe).

There have been quiet protests against this ceremony for decades, mostly by parents of children who do not fall within the K-12 crowd. They complain that the velvet rope should not apply to anything that happens on campus. Why can't my kid go and visit the Kindergarten classes like the K-12 kids (uh, what possible meaning can it have to him to visit a place he has never been do)? Why can't my daughter go to the luau with the K-6 teachers? Why can't I be included in EVERY FRICKEN THING even though you have never seen hide nor hair of me since my kid started at school?

Unfortunately, he who is the loudest monkutare usually wins. Why does it always seem to be the parent who has the least amount of time and tuition invested in the school? It seems like those of us who have been there since eternity have developed some semblance of dignity and restraint in the light of such outrageous and nanny-nanny-boo-boo behavior. Basically, a grown up version of, "If we don't play my way, I'm taking home all of the toys and going home."

Why do my children deserve to participate in something as Seniors when yours do not? Here are my top five reasons:

1) My children emerged victorious from that WWF steel cage match known as Kindergarten Admissions. They "beat out" 7-9 other kumon addled, flashcard trained, alumni-spawned, grandparent donor progeny, "token" preschoolers to score spots. They are the Hulk Hogans of itty bittys.

2) My children have survived years of doing without - without sleep, withoug vacations, without meals that cost more than $5, without contact with the "real world" - since their first day of school. They should reap he rewards of living in that utopia known as private school for their sacrifices, at least for an hour in their Senior year. Particularly more so when they realize they are ill-prepared to function amongst normal people when they head off to college.

3) My family has sacrificed for many more years than yours. We've eaten many more packages of 10 cent saimin or orange mac n cheese for dinner than yours. We've done more time at the Carnival and have the malasada burns to prove it. We've spoken to inane neurotic new parents at PTA events all the while repressing our desires to say, "PLEASE go somewhere else." We've volunteered in the classroom and pretended that we enjoy your company. Why should you get the same as us when you're life only sucked half as much as ours on campus?

4) I will have had to wear school colors and drive a school-colored car for 13 years even though my favorite color belongs to the "enemy school". Even more horrible, only one of the school colors from the kids' school is figure flattering.

5) Your kid is strange and you kind of are too. Some of you even smell funky.

Oscar the Grouch's only reason why our kids should be allowed to participate and not the non-K to 12 kids is simple, "We paid tuition for 13 years and you haven't so we've earned it!"

Jon Gosselin - please go away

I have never been more ashamed to be Asian than I am each time Jon Gosselin gets on television. He has done more damage to the cult of Asian maledom than Long Duk Dong from Sixteen Candles. I never thought there could be anything more offensive than having a gong go off each time Long Duk Dong appeared on screen and spoke broken English but Jon Gosselin has that topped. You almost expect him to spout a moustache, a queue and long fingernails in the manner of Fu Manchu. So evil.

What makes it worse is that the Korean original Mrs. Gosselin, Jon's mom, is also appearing in photographs by his side. I just don't get it. She never showed up on the TV show with her grandchildren but now her face is plastered everywhere. Do you know any Asian grandma who would approve of what Jon is doing? No way. If he was a "normal" Asian guy, his head would be slapped black and blue by his Mom and his ears would be ringing from the ongoing scolding for leaving his family. There is no way he would have been hanging out on a yacht with Christian Audigier if a real Asian mom was around. He's be hogtied, thrown into the trunk of his sporty white car, and driven to his kids' home.

Being an Asian Mom myself, I know we rule with an iron fist and a truckload of guilt. How could you not feel guilty walking out on eight kids?

I have had more than enough already with the young girlfriend. We get it. You are a stud muffin who can score young blond airheads. What you don't get is that you were much sexier and appealing to the majority of women in the US when you were the responsible father of eight who pitched in to run a home! When you sat on the couch and gaman-ed Kate's rantings, we all loved you. We all wished we had a doofus like you to take out all of the frustrations of life on.

Moaning about how tough your life was and how mean Kate was isn't endearing. It just confirms that you are an idiot. Ask any parent who stays home with one kid how 80% of the day sucks. Ask any stay at home parent what the highlight of the day is and it will inevitably be that moment when the spouse with the job walks through the door so you can take a breath and go to the bathroom without someone hanging all over you or knocking on the door. Now, multiply that by eight and a bad haircut. The stress is just unimaginable. As Olivia Soprano would scornfully say, "POOR YOU".

So just go away and take those other single dads on your reality show - the ever fluffier K-Fed and Michael Lohan - with you. Go get some real jobs and try to become real dads.

Michael was wacko? Not compared to LaToya

I try not to be one of those people who rubber neck at accidents on the freeway but I just could not look away last night when Barbara Walters interviewed LaToya Jackson on tv. If you are of my generation, you remember when LaToya was just one of the "normal" Jacksons like Randy, Marlon, Jackie, Tito and Rebie. Not a media ho like Jermaine and not an actual talent like Janet. It seems like she was possessed by demons once she put that sparkly headband on and had her nose job. The modified perky plastic Jackson nose sported by Janet, Mama Katherine and originally by Michael and not the wide flat normal nose that they were all born with. Maybe the faux nose has good and bad power? It did wonders for Janet but demolished Michael and sent LaToya permanently into shameless self-promotion planet.

Nowadays, whenever you see LaToya, she is trying to pass as either Janet or Michael - depending on which has a hotter career at the time. I am sure if Tito hit it big, she would reinvent herself to be Toriano (yes, that's his real name). I'm sure she tried to look like Jesse Jackson during his failed Presidential campaign. Now that Michael in death is back on the top of the charts, she is a "drag king" trying to impersonate Michael. She even sported the whole military look that Michael was known for last night - the last time she wore anything like that was when she was performing (cough cough) in Vegas.

Basically, LaToya took credit for anything and everything Michael achieved. She was the one who first put a brooch on his shirt and inspired him to start dressing that way. She was the one who told him to Moonwalk. She was the one who encouraged Paris to give that powerful speech at the Memorial Service. I'm sure if she had been given more time, she would have told Barbara Walters that she gave birth to Bubbles the Chimp and landscaped the greenery at the Neverland Ranch.

I believe the allegations that she went into his home and stole his jewelry, clothing, and money. Isn't it awful that even in death, poor Michael cannot trust anyone?

I really detested LaToya when during her Jack Gordon phase, she came out and accused Michael of being a pedophile. That was stomach wrenching. To see someone turn against a sibling like that. Yes, I know EVERYONE knew Mike liked to cuddle with little boys but that whole unspoken bond of sibling loyalty should have won out. Really, ask anyone with a brother or sister. Even Charles Manson's sibling would not go on TV and turn like that.

Poor Michael, as long as LaToya is there, he will never rest in peace.

It's All About the Benjamins, Baby

Shameless plug coming up so skip this if you don't want to read my plea for money.


We are selling Ward Center Festival of Giving tickets at my office. The cost is $10 and the Club gets 100% of the proceeds. You can use the tickets in November (the first weekend?) at Ward Warehouse, Ward Center, Ward Entertainment, etc. to receive discounts and special gifts for ticketholders only.


You can designate your donation to go to our General Operating Account (for our regular expenses) or to our monthly newsletter.


We were also collecting to pay for flowers to decorate the graves at Punchbowl and other cemeteries for the 100th "boys" who have passed away. We have done this every year since the Joint Memorial Service started but this year, as many of you know, our financial situation was pretty bleak. No money to buy the flowers from our general account so we've had to ask for donation. Thank Buddha we raised all of the money needed to purchase the flowers for all of the graves!



We still need volunteers so if you want to help, show up at Punchbowl on Saturday, September 26 at 7:30 am to pitch in. It is really a great event, sure to move you to tears. Everyone can help, even the little kids. All you have to do is place a small bouquet of flowers at each headstone or niche. You'll have list of the veterans and the location of their final resting place. If you can read, walk and don't mind the sunshine, please come by.


If you want some tickets, you can call me at work (946-0272) or e-mail me at work (club100vets@gmail.cm) or contact me at one of my other numbers or e-mail addresses if you know them.

Goodbye Michael

Cried again watching Michael's memorial service. From the first strains of the instrumental and somber version of "Will You Be There?" to the image of Blanket coming out of the limo with Prince and Paris to the ending shots of the family leaving him behind. Too much for me to take. Even though I had the soothing voice of my object of lust, Anderson Cooper, talk me through it, it was too painful and heartwrenching. I couldn't bear to watch it all.

Okay, but it was funny when Andy boy thought an elderly black guy was Quincy Jones and had to take it back. I know that was going to set it off in the blog-o-sphere.

It was nice that Macaulay Culkin was there but where was Emmanuel Lewis? Didn't Webster deserve a seat? Was Brookie there? I guess she had to go and get an eyelash weave.

I am sad for myself that I won't be able to do a pilgrimage to visit Michael in his final resting place. I look at the importance that Graceland has for the women of my Mom's generation and the closure it has given those who worshipped at the temple of Elvis. I need and want that for myself and for those of my generation. To be able to pay respects to Michael and in doing so, deal with my own grief.

Well, I guess it is true that we "never can say goodbye" after all.

Plus, you know that darned Jermaine would turn it into something horrible.

Mr. Mandoo Maniac

Okay, I admit it. I am addicted to being the first person to jump on the new restaurant/food bandwagon. I had heard about Mr. Mandoo at work when some of the ladies were talking about how delicious the food was. I know I look totally Korean and am a big duk fan (yes the word is DUK as in Korean mochi and not the other bad word D**K that some of you are giggling about) but I am not really a mandoo person. (Photo is of Mr. Mad Cow doing his part for international harmony by introducing Mr. Kim Chee Mandoo from Korea to Ms. Chicken McNugget from the Good Ole USA).

However, anytime a place comes highly recommended by the distinguished ladies who craft at my workplace, I know that I can count on a great meal at a great price. They are really selective when it comes to kau kau. Really, there is some correlation between the ability to crank out 1000 plastic canvas kleenix holders in one sitting and a discerning palate. However, I had no idea where it was and all of my free time at home has been spent making centerpieces for a dinner I'm going to rather than on the computer so I that I would just wait for a sign from Buddha.

The large lobed one sent me THE message on Thursday, when Mr. Mandoo was featured by Manolo Morales on the KHON Morning News on Thursday. I was expecting a grimy, dark place tucked away behind some K-Bar on Keeaumoku staffed by non-English speaking folks (you know, the ones who give you the eye when you go to pay at Palama Market and speak in English since they think you are Korean and you really don't want to explain that you are really Japanese but look Korean since you are concerned that you will be the target of "comfort women" hatred) but it was a bright, clean cheery place with enthusiastic and even witty young women.

As is my usual state in the morning, I was only kind of paying attention as I tried to put on makeup and keep a huge mangy pit bull's rear end out of my face so all I caught was "Piikoi across from Blockbuster", "8:00 am" and "kal bi mandoo".

I resisted the temptation to go to the place on Thursday, mostly because I had a car full of fish-related pupus for the veterans for Wine Gang. But I knew that Friday, it would be WON (the mandoo are called Won or King because they are so huge). Please note the comparative size of the mandoo (kogi on the left and kim chee on the right to the Chicken McNugget. Ho da big, yeah? Really manapua sized and not the usual mandoo size.

As usual, I did not look up the address and parked on Piikoi, near Ichiriki. I saw the Blockbuster sign and thought the place was in that mini-mall since there was a yellow sign with some round thingy and indistiguishable Asian writing. I started to cross the street and notice that there was a stream of people walking into another store on the Ichiriki side, next to the old no longer there Home Sweet Home furniture store. I saw the demonic looking Mr. Mandoo logo, turned around and headed in the right direction.

Note to future restauranteurs. Do not have your featured creature look like he is sitting on the toilet and is constipated. Really do not do that. It creates a lot of trepidation about consuming your product.

The offerings are very simple. Five types of mandoo, miso soup, some picked veggies and drinks. That's it. Nothing else. No rice. Four of the mandoo are made with ground pork and one is made with shrimp. They all have organic veggies and tofu. There was something on a board about the ratio of veggies and tofu to meat but I don't remember what it was. I think it was a high ratio of non dead flesh to dead.

All they had left was the Kogi mandoo which is the regular mandoo. It is round and looks exactly like a manapua. It has veggies, tofu and long rice (which is why Oscar the Grouch won't eat one). It was $2.75. I didn't eat one since I wanted to save it for the kids (who also have not eaten it since they busted it open and went "yuck veggies"). I gave one to DT and one to RA at work and they loved it. They said it was really juicy and delicious but not very mandoo-y as expected. Of course, I did not dare tell them it was $2.75 since I would have gotten a long lecture about how one mandoo was 1/5th of my hourly pay (sob sob - non profit wages). So buying six actually cost me over an hour of hard work.

The other mandoo they had left was the kim chee mandoo. I luv luv luv kim chee, always have and always will. Of course, I am at the age where kim chee does not love me. Let's just say I never look like the Mr. Mandoo logo within 10 minutes of eating kim chee. I did eat one of these when I got to work and it was so onolicious! It was a little spicy but not unbearably so. Just the burning warmth a few seconds after biting into the thing but a nice burn, not the painful one that usually comes with Indian food. I felt bad though since the office smelled like kim chee for the rest of the day. I even got kind of punchy as time went by and the odor of the remaining kim chee mandoo wafted out of my desk drawer. My poor friend and co-worker AS had to put up with this all day and she didn't have her usual daily mango delivered by GS to block the smell. This mandoo was $3.50. There were only two left and I got them.

They also sell three other mandoo: a kalbi mandoo which is not made with kalbi at all but is ground pork with kalbi sauce, a spicy pork mandoo (ground pork with spicy sauce and I think mushrooms) and shrimp and vegetable mandoo which had a funky yellow wrapper in the photo. I was told I could wait 20 minutes for a new batch to come out of the steamer but as I had already been waiting in line for 15 minutes, I decided to pass. They did suggest ordering ahead of time if you have a big order (ex: more than 6 mandoo).

They have some sets available. One mandoo with miso soup, two mandoo with miso soup and two mandoo with a drink. I can't remember what the prices were - I think over $8 or so. It cost more if you order a shrimp mandoo or an ice coffee.

I did order an ice coffee and it took two of the staff people to put it together. Skip this totally, It was awful. They dug out some hardened black tar heroin looking rock and plopped it into a cup. A huge chunk fell on the ground during the diggine process. They then added some coffee from a vacumn jug which melted all of the ice that had previously been put in. It was very watery and looked awful. Plus, the cup was only 2/3 full. I was told to go and put cream and sugar in it. It wasn't even real cream but that pump liquid Coffeemate from Costco. By the time I walked over there, the ice was already melted. Since I had to wait so long, they gave this to me free but had I known it would have been so terrible, I would have asked for a free mandoo instead. It was like drinking brown sugar and water. Horrible and pricey.

After my trip to the mandoo grail, I was surprised by the following things:

(1) There was no odor de garlic that usually lurks at Korean places

(2) I was the 5th person in line and almost everything had sold out even though they had only been open for five minutes

(3) My plan to buy 2 dozen mandoo and have money for a cup of ille coffee was not going to happen since they were $2.50-$3.75 each. Instead, I bought 8 mandoo and a cup of crappy iced coffee.

(4) Everything was written in proper English and not the usual ENGRISH you find at most Korean food joints in the Ala Moana adjacent area.

(5) There was no K-Drama music blaring nor a tv with K-Dramas on it in the place.

(6) There was no photo of Bae Yong Joon behind the cash register.

(7) What really shocked and impressed me was the young woman who was he owner. Boy, she is going to go far in this business since she has her hospitality and customer service skills down. The woman behind me had a phone order that had been lost. Apparently, one of the employees wrote the order on a post-it instead of the correct order form. The woman was visibly upset and declined the offer to wait 20 minutes to have them complete her order. Rather than just say, "Here, take your money back B-yatch" as is the usual response in most places around town, the owner profusely apologized and said she would DELIVER the order to the woman's workplace at the time the woman designated! The woman explained that she worked in Kalihi and it would be a drive but the owner said that was okay. The mandoo would get there on time.

It is even more amazing that the order wasn't a very big one. Just 12 mandoo so about $40. Yet, the customer was going to be happy.

Well, the owner did ask the lady to give directions to someone on the phone before she got to the counter.

I was not surprised that:

(1) The place was packed with local folks. Real local folks who were not Korean and who had no idea what won mandoo was until Manolo Morales told them. You know every one of us was thinking the same thing, "Looks like manapua".

(2) The heavily hyped "vegetarian" manapua had shrimp in it.

(3) There were containers of ground pork mandoo filling mix on the counters in the kitchen. This seems to be the korean equivalent of the gau gee pork filling sitting on a table in a Chinese restaurant. I bet you can count on one hand the number of times you have gone to any ethnic restaurant of these genres and not seen an uncooked pork filled platter somewhere in the place just festering.

(4) My kids prefer fried lumps of sodium and chicken fat to anything remotely healthy or organic.

(5) An office reeking of kim chee will keep the visitors away.

My five favorite Korean places as of today:

1) Ono's BBQ in the Kaimuki Shopping Center. They have the best side dishes and I worship at the temple of the duk man doo guk. Total Korean Seoul food. I dream of this at night and wish I came from the middle land and not the land of the rising sun.

2) The indistinguishable kim chee store on Keeaumoku - near the park and across the street from Pineland. I always wanted to go but there was never parking in the front. I finally went since a spot was open, leaving my precious and grouchy kids in the car. I bought kim chee green onions (not chopped but whole) which was too spicy for me to eat like that - had to chop it into tiny bits and be a wuss, regular kim chee and cucumber kim chee. I bought sushi but it had fishcake in it which I hate so I gave that to Oscar. He said it was good but strange.

(3) Frozen black bean noodles from Palama Market. They used to eat this in every episode of First Wives Club. I think it is Korean ghetto food but I love it. Black beans, noodles and boiled potatoes. Funky but good.

(4) Kim Chee dip from Tamura's Market on Waialae. I am eating this now and have put it on everything. Tuscan garlic/parmesan bruscetta, pizza doritos, banana muffin. It will probably shorten my life with its deadly combination of mayo and cream cheese but who cares? Death for dip.

(5) Good old reliable head cabbage Halm's kim chee.

Fractured Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there were seven dwarfs. They were lovable, gentle, humble and totally innocent. They worked hard in their diamond mines every day and would return to their beloved home every night.

One day, there was a knock on their door. They opened it and saw it was a young woman named Snow White. Snow White wore a big smile and told the dwarfs that she had come to help them since their home needed a "female touch". Although the dwarfs did not know anything about her, they invited Snow White to become a part of their family, believing that her sweet words and her warm hugs were from the heart.

Days turned into weeks then months then years. Each day when the dwarfs headed out for work, Snow White would send them off with a cheerful goodbye and welcomed them home with a spirited hello. They never asked her what she did at home by herself all day long.

Some of the woodland creatures told them that there was something not quite right about Snow White and warned them to be careful. Bambi said he saw her going into the diamond mine late at night when the dwarfs were sleeping. When Thumper asked them if they had gotten the carrots he had given to Snow White every week for their dinner, the dwarfs did not know what he was talking about as they had not had any carrots for years. Since they did not believe that anyone would harm good people like them, the dwarfs chose not to listen. How could their precious Snow White who told them every day how much she loved them possibly do anything like that?

Working in the mine became rough for the dwarfs as it became harder and harder to find diamonds in the mine. The dwarfs decided it was time to bring in some helpers and asked the elves to pitch in. The elves, who loved the dwarfs dearly, worked for hours in the diamond minds for free just to help their heroes. The elves felt about Snow White the same way as the Woodland Creatures but again, the dwarfs would not listen. "She says she loves us and that is that," the dwarfs told the elves.

Soon after the Keebler Elves came aboard, Snow White suddenly told the dwarfs that it was time for her to leave them. The dwarfs were so sad as Snow White had become like a daughter to them. With tears streaming from her eyes, she deeply embraced each one of them, sobbing that she did not know when she would ever see them again. With heavy hearts, the dwarfs bid her adieu and wished her the best in her new life. Each dwarf cried himself to sleep that night.

The next morning, the dwarfs went into their kitchen for breakfast only to discover their cupboards were bare. Not a speck of food nor single piece of china was found anywhere. They went to their teeny tiny "secret stash" of mini-money and discovered that every penny they had scrimped and saved for years was also gone. In a panic, they ran to their diamond mine and discovered that all that lay within was a thin film of diamond dust. "Who could have done this to us?", cried the dwarfs in anguish as they walked through their depleted mine. A cold wind blew, chilling their bones, stinging their eyes and causing a red ribbon to flutter from the ground. The dwarfs recognized that as Snow White's ribbon.

When the elves got there, they saw the ribbon and told the dwarfs that Snow White was the culprit. However, the dwarfs refused to believe them. "Someone put that ribbon here to frame her," said one dwarf. "She must have been trying to catch the bad guy for us," said another. "But she said she LOVES us," said a third. "I am sure she will come back soon and this will be straightened out", said the leader of the dwarfs.

They waited and waited but Snow White never returned. Although they heard from the Woodland Creatures that she had moved into a big new house and had gone on a long vacation after she left the dwarfs 'home, they still would not believe that she had done anything bad to them. Even when the Woodland Creatures showed them a photo of the entire Snow White family wearing huge diamond rings and chomping on carrot cake, the dwarfs still maintained that she was innocent.

One afternoon, the Woodland Creatures and the elves had a meeting to discuss what they should do to help the elves. Snow White's actions had left the dwarfs in a dire situation with no food or no means of support. It was likely that if they did not act, the dwarfs would lose their beloved house. They discussed whether they should tell the dwarfs about the REAL Snow White even though they knew it would hurt them.

They were so busy exchanging stories about Snow White's shady dealings, they did not hear the Hunter sneaking up on them. The sound of gunshot and the smell of gunpowder filled the air as the Hunter took aim and pointed the muzzle of his gun at the group. "This is courtesy of Snow White," he yelled, "So you'd better keep quiet"

A chilling cackle filled the air. The Woodland Creatures and the elves looked beyond the Hunter and saw Snow White. "Those stupid elves will never believe you," she laughed, "They think that I am REALLY pure goody-goody Snow White and not who I really am!" A cloud of darkness filled the sky and covered Snow White. When she emerged from the cloud, she had shed her beautiful princess disguise and revealed herself to be the slimy and slippery Evil Queen.

That's it. No ending yet.

What's so scary about this tale is that it is a true story.

Another One Bites The Dust

I am totally depressed over the announcement that the Chowder House at Ward Warehouse will be shutting down. I really didn't anticipate that happening, even in light of this crummy economy. I mean, BARRY O. used to hang out there and everything that has even the most remote connection to the Pres turns gold, right?

I have to admit that it has been years since I have eaten there.

In high school, we used to go there since my friend HH worked at Wong's Okazuya in Ala Moana (yes, another place that is no longer in existence). The Wong family also owned Orsons (gone-dy too) and Chowder House. In that strange local way, we felt that we should support our friend's employer and would have lunch there from time to time. Me being the anti-Japanese in terms of diet would just eat bread since seafood is not my friend. We would usually be the only Asian local kids in the sea of Japanese and Mainland tourists and local senior citizens.

Very sad news. I wonder what will go there? Ward seems to be cultivating an upscale appearance in an attempt to be the 3rd floor of Ala Moana - that is high makamaka shops where locals do not tread.

There are so many places that I used to love before I had a huge, sagging Mommy pooch of a tummy that are no longer here. If you are old, you'll remember these:

At Ala Moana:
Keiki Land (the first place I ever had a kim chee hot dog)
Carol and Mary (the closest thing we had to Rodeo Drive in Hawaii. It was a treat to go in there even though we couldn't afford to buy anything)
Otaheite (the must-go place for your new silkie backless dress for an upcoming social)
La Cocina (Ummm, ranchero sauce burrito)
Lyn's Delicatessen (I blame them for my marriage to a Jew)

Strawberry Connection out by Puuhale Road.

Castle Park

The video game place at top of the Waikiki Shopping Plaza. We would stay there for hours on weekends playing video games. My favorites were Galaxian (I can still kick okole on that) and Whack-a-Mole. Geek alert.

La Mancha (I had my Sweet Sixteen there) and The Point After

My kids do not get attached to places like I do. I think they have an MTV edit approach to life - life in quick cuts and no emotional attachment to anything. They live in a land of transience while I lived in a land of permanence, in perception anyway.