Chronology: It's Fricking Important.

Okay so everything got a bit behind schedule. So shoot me. Even though Comic Con was extraordinary and I have a ton of insane/awesome/insanely awesome shit to share, my OCD has determined that I share everything in chronological order. You're talking to a girl who has bookcases for specific genres, where the books are alphabetized by author then title. Also the girl who rainbowtizes her cereal boxes. Just...just freaking read it, okay? The pictures are pretty.

So, Hawaii. That was an adventure. I always forget some of its bizarre little idiosyncrasies that both make it fun and odd at the same time. One of the primary things I always seem to forget is how easy it is to fall right back into pidgin, the local slang there. I think the wheels had been down for five minutes before the cadence of my speech changed to match theirs. That might just be a weird me thing, though. Just for giggles, we'll go through my time in Hawaii chronologically, too. Things will just be easier that way.

First was Waikiki. I love Hawaii, but...if we could just make all of Waikiki go away, I'd probably be okay with it. If you're reading this and have never been to Hawaii, please turn off whatever else you're doing and pay close attention for a minute:

NO ONE in Hawaii says "Aloha" "Mahalo" or "Kokua" except for tourists and people who make their living off of them. When they teach you to say alooooooooooooohaaaa!!! that is how they mark you for the rest of the island. You may as well be wearing a sign that says "I know nothing and will give you large sums of money for shells that I could find by myself on a beach twelve feet away." Don't fall into their trap!

For reasons that have never been all that clear to me, this has always annoyed the hell out of me. Look past the bullshit, people!

Ahem. Anyway. Waikiki. Despite the tourist population, there are often many interesting things to see. Also to eat.

Observe:

The chili omelet. Bless you, purveyors of local cuisine.
















Some obligatory Waikiki Beach shots.




















Some interesting-looking people. Guys, tying your t-shirt in the back looks really gay. Which, if you actually are gay, is fine, but if you're not, it just....it's just gay. Stop it.




















As promised: A Freaking Pig On A Leash. What in the hell, Waikiki? Cute pig though.














I then proceeded to go sailing on a boat called the Grand Louis and captained by a mildly intoxicated Frenchman called Gerard. Gerard was very kind but tried to take us to Australia and, failing this, proceeded to try to kill us by turning the boat sideways. There was a moment during which I was lying flat on my back on the deck but my body was almost completely perpendicular to the water. It was frightening but also pretty awesome. No pictures from this particular adventure because I was unwilling to sacrifice Annabel (one of my cameras) to the oceans.

And then. Good grief, Charlie Brown, and then there was Diamond Head. And hiking. Those of you familiar with me and my personality will likely be super confused as to why I would ever let such a horrendous thing occur. The official word is that I was lured up a mountain with the promise of beautiful pictures. That's pretty well the surest way to lure me into doing anything. Halfway up I literally crashed to the ground and very nearly passed out, while my father laughed at me. Thanks for that, dad. Your laughter was super helpful. So was the laughter of the Australian couple behind us. You guys were just freaking peachy. And also keen. Who decided that peaches were a positive state of being?

Anyway.

The following conversation took place shortly before this happened.

Me: Okay so...how did you...manage to talk me...into doing this?
My dad: I dunno.
Me: Because it seems to me...that it combines...two of my least favorite things...physical exertion...and sunlight...
Australian couple: (snicker)
Me: (Glare Of Death and Pain)

Following me getting extraordinary tunnel vision and seriously contemplating letting myself fall off of a cliff (also contemplating punching a little kid for his snickers bar), there was a stupidly steep staircase as well as a dark scary rape tunnel and a spiral staircase. Then there was a landing, where I sat very still for about half an hour because my legs wouldn't hold me up. Now see the purpose of my self-imposed torture.



A tiny, tiny bit of the trail I took, which totally almost killed me.




















Some of the reasons I made the journey.



























Here are some stairs that very nearly killed me dead.




















After this we went to Pearl Harbor. I took tons of pictures that I think are cool, but I'll just post my favorite. It's a bit...I dunno, kitsch isn't quite the right word, but it's close. But I don't care. Fullview, or the terrorists win.




















Then there was Waimea Valley. It's gorgeous and cool and green and damp and completely lacking in cell reception, which is oddly freeing. There was gorgeous scenery. And some plants, too.














Supermegafoxyawesomehot he isn't, but the tats were intriguing.


































































It's not creepy if I just thought it was sweet right?



















Needless to say I'm a bit of a voyeur. It's harmless, I swear. And by harmless I mean that I haven't yet been given a restraining order. Which I consider to be a great success. Now I am going to show you pictures of delicious food you cannot have. It has already been enjoyed. Feel free to be jealous.

Coco puffs with love from Liliha Bakery. Yummy pastry filled with chocolate custard and topped with a thing called chantilly which I can only describe as butter-flavored joy with magic sprinkles.





















This is a brownie. Except it's more than a brownie. It's the most terrifying, glorious, beautiful thing you ever will see. Brownie+red velvet+chocolate chips+raspberry+marshmallows=this.




















And then the pineapple burger. It's simple, it's elegant, it's delicious, it's mine and you can't have it.




















So. So that was my adventures in Hawaii. It was delicious. Up next: that which is Comic Con.

Until next time,
Mars

Melancholy, plane and simple

The following was written on notebook paper on the plane between catnaps:



I survived week one with my family and part one of the epic trilogy that is my summer vacation. It was looking a bit iffy there for a while. I love my family more than life itself, but they are exhausting sometimes.

Harry Potter was an extraordinary, emotional, draining kind of event. My best friend and I arrived around 3pm. Because a) we're insane and b) it's the last one (the latter excuses the former. Really.). It's in the constitution, read it sometime, bitches. Anyway. Super quick synopsis: gorgeous cinematography, bits of awkwardness, Chuck Finch fucked up (dammit, gaffer, do your job!!), best friend and I sobbed pretty much the whole movie. She was Dobby. I was Hipster Harriet Potter.

I'm on the plane now, watching the Rachel-Loves-Schu episode of Glee, being actively reminded of how exhausted I am by the fact that I keep bursting into tears every five minutes for no apparent reason. It's very distracting, I am running out of napkins, and my seatmate appears most concerned for my sanity and her safety. I am the picture of functionality. Meanwhile, the women in front of me are on their fourth and fifth respective bloody marys and have spend the majority of the flight quizzing the flight attendants on their Hawaiian and hitting on anything with a penis. It's good times. I'm fairly certain they preboarded the Hot Mess Express in Sacramento. Ah well. Takes all kinds, I guess. Hope they have a ride when we land.

Anyway.

I slept maybe an hour last night. It's interesting the things that come floating to the surface when my defenses are down. Airplanes do that anyway, for whatever reason, they make me extremely introspective. Thoughts of the future, of the past, of truth, of fact--of the difference--of choosing to believe what I like despite and due to evidence to the contrary. Impossible is nothing.

I miss my bed. I miss my tiny apartment. I miss my adopted toddler waiter. I miss my fount of the majority of my distress, and consolation. It's that curious soreness that you wish would bruise so it would at least have a tangible, visible origin.

There's something about being flung several thousand miles in an aluminum can that always puts me in such a chatty melancholy. Meantime, I'm addicted to the soundtrack for Rio. It's a movie about birds. With awesome samba music. And also Jamie Foxx. So, right off, pretty good.

Needless to say, I haven't taken my meds in quite a long time. I had a cinnabon and two cups of POG. This was likely ill-advised, and also the explanation for why I am sitting here talking about how tired I am instead of sleeping and possibly eradicating the issue. That would make far too much sense. Accursed logic.




Pics for good measure!!!

First are a few random ass terrible sketches from the plane. Don't judge me.




















And my bestest friend, Dobby:





















The precious toddler who adopted me:
















And found at a record store with more personality than allotted:





















So...it's been fun. Up next, Hawaiians and their idiosyncratic Pig On A Leash.

Until next time,
Mars

Epic Summer of Epic

Greetings readers. Both of you.

So far, my summer has been made of dullness, hatred, and a generous sprinkling of failure. Luckily for all (three) of us, that is about to change very soon. Please behold my itinerary below:

July 8-14: Home! I get to see family. This will be way more interesting for me than it is for you.

July 14 (evening): HOLY SHIT IT'S HARRY POTTER. I will be dressed up and first in line, I will be with awesome people doing really awesome shit. Also, I will probably be a salty puddle of sadness and bittersweet sorrow.

July 15-22: Hawaii!! I'm sure my family still isn't that interesting to anyone but me, BUT--some truly bitchin photographs will come of this trip, and they will be available for all to see!! Beautiful waterscapes, mountainscapes, and on occasion supermegafoxyawesomehot (wo)manscapes abound. You're welcome in advance. I offer no judgment for what you choose to do with these pictures once I provide them. I also accept no liability if you get arrested.

July 22-24: Holy sweet baby moses in a tube top, it's freaking ComiCon. I am going as the personal guest of one Felicia Day, her webseries The Guild is sponsoring my registration, and I am staying at the Roddenberry residence (you know, the ones that created Star Trek? Yeah. I'm made of awesome). It's basically a geek-gasmic getaway weekend where I will be dressed as Mrs. Dr. Horrible and everything will be made of awesomeness. Also, I plan to take pictures of everything with physical form at the con, so...that'll just be freaking sweet. Get excited, yo.

Basically, I am going to be Felicia Day's new bestest most awesomest friend, and my whole life is going to be a sheetcake made of victory and talking owls. Preferably blue ones.

My journey is set to begin in about an hour and a half, when my bus arrives to take me to the airport, where I will hang out in my hotel room and find things to desecrate in various creative ways, then probably eat a sandwich. I like sandwiches.

Until next time,
Mars