A Bunny's Tail

Ad Operations and then some

2011-07-24T15:59:00.000-07:00

It's about that time of lifetime where you rejuvenate all cranial activities to have the knowledge to teach and guide others. Yes, I am over 35.

This week I have decided to take up as much information as possible while managing a team of 10, fighting for Playpen as a start up, helping those with Ad Operations needs, and (apparently) decide to blog again. It's funny how that happens (with me). If I task my brain to do 100 things, I just feel obligated to write about it. Here are some things I would love to share with you: (and is a good reference to me to see how long it takes to complete)

"Social Media Metrics: How to Measure and Optimize Your Marketing Investment" by Jim Sterne. I saw a presentation last week by Jim Stern at the OMMA Metrics conference. I declared him my Hero and told him so. Details of why he is my new Hero... well I'll let you know after I tell him myself and report his response. Plus I bought his book that day and am finishing it this week. Book Report coming! So far... it's awesome. Well written, informative, and it's like a guide to anything you ever wanted referenced on social media metrics with re-usable quotes that last centuries.

"Don't Make Me Think" by Steve Krug. Truthfully, I have owned this book for a year. It came highly recommended by the UE guru at Playdom. But this week, I'm giving it to my lead Creative Services person and will receive a Book Report! (yup, that's 2 BRs!)

"Delivering Happiness" by Tony Hsieh. I've seen this book in just about every start-up I walk in to have a meeting, like Zivity, ngmoco, and more. I own 2 copies thanks to who knows who. Again, I haven't read it but I know it's importance. RETENTION is a big part of our favorite 3 R's: Reach, RETENTION, Revenue. So last week, I gave it to one of my Campaign Managers to read and provide a BR. More to come!

Last week I attended a Venture Shift event, invited by our friends at Ackrell Capital, Ilan & Micheal himself. I learned that I have could have profited from going to one of these events 2 years ago before trying to embark on my first start-up. There are yummy tidbits to carry home from these events. Watch out when smoking a cig with a panel member, they are extremely jaded and have "done these events too many times, and don't understand why an entrepreneur would waste their precious time at an event like this rather than actually producing a product." OK. That's kind of fair. But really, had we just taken a breather, networked better, and attended 1-3 events, then we would have been much better shape, felt like we had people to talk to, and have received some solid advice. BEWARE OF THE JADED! BUT DON'T HEED THEIR WARNINGS!...as really you don't have to go to too many of the same events to realize that they are truly a waste of time.

An old friend, now the head of Ad Products for Google, introduced me to Aditya Vuchi the CEO of Media Mint, an outsource Ad Ops solution. With my 10+ experience in Ad Operations and consulting around the bay, he asked that I be an Advisor. Well, hell yeah! Why? Cause I feel his passion and love what he's doing. He's fighting those outsourced Ad Ops giants (insert Operative here) and is the only CEO of an outsourced solution that truly ran campaigns. After working at Tribal Fusion, he returned to India to make his dream happen on his own dime. Go Aditya!! After just over a year, he has a handful of clients and a pipeline of Ad Ops individuals ready to roll... he's even working with the nearby university to train Ad Operations and fill his pipeline of specialists.

Fun 7 days? Yup! More to come? Double Yup!

I'm back bitches!!

Sample Banners in PlaypenCash to Promote Playpen.com

2011-06-12T13:04:00.001-07:00

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Playpen Model's Widgets, Banners, Buttons

2011-01-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

Below are examples of our Playpen's Promo Tools in action!
Click them to go to my "SampleModel" Playpen profile page.
If you are new user of Playpen, sign up as a Fan and load some tokens then I will earn 20-25% of that load! Yeah money for me!

jpg Banner Test:

Flash Banner Test:

Here is a 120x120 "I Connect at Playpen.com" Banner:

Here's a really cool Playpen "PP" banner to show my love of Playpen:

Here is a Custom Button I created on Playpen:

Pay Me!

Here is a Button I chose to save on Playpen:

Stumbled Upon

2010-10-06T22:29:00.000-07:00

Drum roll.....

The moment you have been waiting for. A StumbleUpon.com entry! Yup, it's enough to chalk a rich stranger and have your hooligans pilfer the pockets. Huh?

Exactly.

Today's Stumble Upon:

Click here: http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1oZGZu/www.youtube.com/watch%253Fv%253D5eXsSluPNxY

or just watch it:

How To Get Laid At Work: X-Rated Version | Playpen

2010-07-30T18:43:00.000-07:00

Better than some Playboy Smoking Jacket blah blah... :)

How To Get Laid At Work: X-Rated Version | Playpen

Playpen Blog is Live!

2010-06-16T23:58:00.000-07:00

This bitch is blogging here now: http://blog.playpen.com/

Going to Say "Fuck it!"

2010-05-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

FUCK IT!

It's taken me 3.5 years and 33 posts later to just put my hands up and say, "Fuck it! I'm going naughty and dirty!"

I have always flirted on the sexy lines of expression while being a professional traveling the world making shit happen. This time, I'm making my own shit happen and have co-founded an Adult Social Entertainment site, yes yes aka PORN! That's right listeners out there, I am a proud professional business woman of PORN. I said it, the 4 letter word of the day...PORN!

What does that make me? One smart motherfucker that will be stinking rich. And I plan to use that money to build another business or 12. So if you support me, you will be supported.... and most likely be invited to some really fucking good parties :)

Now I so want to give up all my secrets...get your head out of the gutter mister...I do have more professional-like ideas where my hard earned money will go back in to Ad Operations, the least sexy industry within the online advertising industry. But as we all know sex sells! And my brain plus sex equals a new age for Ad Operations globally. Fuck yeah!

Check out the new fun site: www.playpen.com

or on Twitter

and check out my tits...

Bored in Costa Rica, not in the good way

2010-01-27T23:52:00.000-08:00

Preface: In January 2000, I packed a truck with my boyfriend and we drove from San Diego to Costa Rica. We took 2.5 months to drive through all the fabulous countries and towns in Mexico and Central America. Camping nearly the entire trip and only in a hotel when I was sick. The most favorite road trip of my life. Though at our destination, we were ready to settle in the first town we landed in in Costa Rica. That town was Playa Grande, a surf town on the Nicoya Peninsula, and at the time it was the most inhabited surf town North (aka the first as you enter Costa Rica from Nicaragua). Here's a journal entry after living there for 3 months:

-------- ~June/July 2000-------------

Bored. Bored. Bored out of my tits. Sure a 3 becoming 7 month vacation is relaxing, but boring? That is sad. I have lost my motto, "Smile & See joy in everything I do." I do nothing. I drive around a town that is 1.5 miles in diameter in search for lines of communication to places thousands of miles away. When that doesn't seem to be working, due to government monopolized phone lines and pseudo power, I try to indulge in a little remodeling of a cave. A beautiful cave I may add. But a cave, which seems to have been vacant of humans for quite a while, now full of bouncing crickets, sojourning ants (some with wings of course), melancholy scorpions, cracked out cockroaches, and 100's of delectable spiders; or should I say this growing list of delectable critters are a treat for the 100's of spiders? Who cares? And Who's counting? I just want them out. A bomb. mmmm. I tried to find a good fumigator. Surely you would think a country filled with over-zealous insectos would have a way of ridding them forever. Forever, impossible, but desired, or just for 4 more months. I can't stay much longer than that anyway! Not with all this talk of surfing. That is when the true boredom begins. Go surfing, have fun, I don't care, but please save the surf talk on the beach! Anytime I hear words of surfing I shall walk away. Not to be rude, but simply to save my sanity. [who said journal entries were up-beat?]

Now the question is, "Why do I despise surfing so much?" Just because I don't surf? No! I don't do a lot of things but I would enjoy a good conversations. [I ran out of books a month ago including what was in the town] Most of the surf talk is absolutely fucking mind torturing! [the boys were hot, but still]

"Oh that was a good wave."

"Yeah I caught 4 today." [loser]

"Hey did you see that swell?"

"No, but the wind is offshore." [yawn]

Wait. It is because I don't surf that I find none of this interesting. But [insert cursing] Did you read what I just wrote? Does this surf talk not bore you?? It's like the power went out [happened all the time during a rain storm] and the generator is puttering. [if the generator puttered] My circuit breakers are going nuts and the sparks are flying off all the wrong synapses [that's my brain on drugs]. A once happy-go-lucky-girl has become a lion in a cage drooling for fresh meat. [the hot boys were not enough to make me happy]

Damn that felt good. "Get if off your chest", some psychiatrist on their knees, ass up, bowing to Freud once said.

Viva La Posts!

2010-01-27T23:42:00.000-08:00

I moved. Which means I found a ton of shit that was hiding in my closets. Which then means I threw out much of my past. Some things I can't let go. So... Viva La Posts!

I found a few posts that I never published during my 5 week stay in Paris in 2008... read on to read little.

And I found a journal entry worth keeping. This one is from my trip to Costa Rica.

What's up with all the change?

2009-08-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

I had to change my template to this blog, the green was killing me. But I'm too busy to really make a pretty template, so instead I'll write...

There has been so much change in the world lately that has seemed to affect everyone. First of all, I have to say it, Facebook really has changed our communication with everyone from the past, from the bar, and especially online. I am a fan. I would buy stock but perhaps it's over-rated now with all the incredibly greedy decisions made at the company (did I say that?). Anyway, maybe it's the age I'm in but I really think it's the time we live in. We are all working hard to find a way to not work so hard. Some of us have clearly been let go from jobs, some of us have run from opportunity, and others are grabbing balls left and right. As for me, in 2009 thus far, I have done them all. OK, I've mainly grabbed a bunch of balls. And yes, this blog entry is about me, cause it's myyyyyyyyyyyy blog!

Soon after knee surgery in my incredibly over-percacet state, I had the balls to tell my boss at YouTube that, "No, I do not agree with the new terms of my offer a week prior to when I was to restart work." OK, that's not a direct quote, but close. So, I started my new year jobless, crippled, medicated, and broke. When I returned to SF, at the end of January, I had a huge friend base to help me get back on my feet. Took me a month to interview, decide that I would start my own company with some fantastic peeps, and change the way companies would think about hiring an Ad Ops Director. By March, I landed my first true consulting gig with a Mobile advertising company. Score! Meanwhile, I was trying to get my other Ad Ops company off the ground.

Then a couple of months later I convinced another company to hire me as a consultant. I'm hot! And I still don't have a website for my consulting company. Oh yes, I have a corporation, get this... isokrankee, inc. Yup, that's me! DBA and all (ok... still haven't filed that, but damn, I'm so busy!) For a month, I worked 2 consulting gigs, the new one in the city the other in the South Bay. And I would swap them MWF in the South Bay, T/Th in the city. That clearly drove me nuts.

Once the end of that hellish month was over, I was out on the prowl during my "spare" time interviewing and building up my pipeline while still working a couple of days at the gig in the city. Prowling was fun, but it started to wear on me. Over and over again I had to repeat my intentions of, "I'm starting a new gig, I don't want the full time position, if you decide to not to hire a consultant (aka me) then I can refer you someone else in the industry."

I hate repeating.

In July I figured it out finally, and after finally meeting the man of my dreams. And just around the time that my partners and I decide to put our startup in the back burner, and just watch is buuuuuuurn. Although before I figure it out, I lose all control and breakdown. It could have been the pityriasis rosea, then uncontrollable hives, on top of stresses from a new relationship, job hunting, people disappointments, and all that is life... but I finally just lose it. It's one of those days when you wake up already 10 minutes late to an interview, you have to fabricate a lie (and I hate lying), run out the house with an ice pack to your face to reduce the swelling from crashing on your pillow funny after drinking a couple of whiskeys, and somehow make it through a day of 2 interviews, consulting in office, and crying any chance you get. Let's call that a cleansing experience, because since then I have learned to manage my pipeline better, stop the repetition of interviews, and chose just 3 or 4 things to work on. Just 3 or 4, ok maybe 5.

And that brings me to tonight. Where among the many very important very life changing things that I must decide in 24 hours, I have decided to change the template of my blog. Why? Shit, cause I can! Because I have the easy decision and control to click a single template to get rid of that aweful green that blanketed my blog and make this thing legible. Writing this entry was a by-product, a slight mistake, perhaps a waste of my valuable time, but really it helps. I've gotten something off of my shoulder, wish I had time to tell more...but I am ready to focus again, crank out some work, build an empire, motivate anyone that is ready to be motivated. I am going to have a lot of work for anyone ready to work, have fun, and is ready for some quality change.

As my dear friend Anna says, "You won't win unless you play! So play!"

Are you ready?

Gotta Walk First...

2009-04-01T23:12:00.000-07:00

...but I want to run!!!

About 3 weeks ago I took my last vicoden. The thought of feeling again was frightening. Not just the pain but the feeling of want to do more. Vicoden is a great sedative, which helps with mellowing out a hyperactive person like moi. Which in turn is a good thing when this person bashes her knee snowboarding after the second day on the job as a snowboard instructor. This season would have been my 8th year as an instructor at Vail. And this season, I planned on getting my avalanche certification, possibly level II certification, and generally tearing up the steep slopes for a month (that would be steeps not at Vail...shhh Vail Mountain is nothing compared to BC and much much more). All a part of my big sabbatical plan. But that came to a crashing hault (no pun intended) when I stupidly hit a compression (most likely) straight legged. After 13 years of riding you think I would know better. Maybe the greys in my head aren't just an indicator to go blond? At any rate, I did a good job tearing my MCL, meniscus, and ripping my ACL to oblivion. Now a dead person's donated Achilles tendon holds my knee joint in proper alignment. Ha!

So it's 3 weeks in with no Vics and nearly 3 months past my surgery, I am antsy! I want to run, jump, bike (not just in my living room), skateboard, boogie board, SNOWBOARD, and get everything going at once. Everything. Even secret things I can't share with anyone right now...

Today, I walk and dammit I do it well.

What the Paris - Shopping!

2008-11-25T10:33:00.000-08:00

Shopping in Paris: http://www.francetravelplanner.com/go/paris/shop/index.html

Yoga in Paris & a Whole Lot More...peruse through David Lebowitz's site: http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2006/12/yoga_in_paris.html

(that's all she wrote) I found that walking through the streets of Paris was the best way to find a gem... plus it really depends on your style or your want to be Paris style.

What the Paris - Eating!

2008-11-25T10:31:00.000-08:00

Eating!
Yeah you know it! My sis and her son are visiting, Tien & Jimmy. Jimmy is a Chef in DC, the Executive Chef at Marvin. So we have been eating out each night that they are here. Although, unfortunately Jimmy forgot to make reservations at his top choices. With that said, we have had but one very fantastic meal. If you can, you must go to
Chateaubriand - http://www.qype.co.uk/place/40676-Le-Chateaubriand-Paris: the menu changes daily and is Prix Fix. I can tell you that we loved every bite, which is saying a lot...because Jimmy is a snob, hates everything, and became an old man at the ripe age of 23 after cooking & living in Paris, Lyon, Italy, and Hawaii.

Other People's Paris Sites/Suggestions:
Simon's Dining Short List: http://www.foodandwine.com/articles/the-state-of-french-cuisine/sidebar/1
Laura's CookBlog, a Cooking Teacher: http://aworldinapan.blogspot.com/
Laura's Cooking Class Schedule: http://www.aworldinapan.com/calendar_of_classes.php

What the Paris - Yoga!

2008-11-25T10:30:00.000-08:00

Yoga - Namaste!

- I have been loving the time spent on my Yoga classes. I haven't been to Yoga in years, the return has been life changing. I go to two studios and am a frequent flyer :)

Ashtanga Paris: http://www.ashtangayogaparis.fr/ - This is a family run Yoga studio above their home. The studio is intimate, fits no more than 13 people, and has a Japanese flair. The 2 kids are adorable. Gerard is French but speaks English well enough. Because of the language barrier it's a little harder to get in to each position with 100% accuracy, so he will do some serious hands on manipulation. I prefer Hatha...

Centre de Yoga du Marais: http://www.yogamarais.com/dex.html - Michelle runs this small studio, fits no more than 17. Her and Chantal are expats from the US. They both are well versed in Yoga and are been patient with teaching. They will judge the class and decide whether to teach mainly in English or French. I love this place!

Other People's Paris Sites/Suggestions:
Yoga in Paris & a Whole Lot More...peruse through David Lebowitz's site: http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2006/12/yoga_in_paris.html

Michelle's suggestions of Yoga books on her site: http://yogainparis.blogspot.com/2007/09/bibliography-of-recommended-reading.html

What the Paris - Dance

2008-11-25T10:27:00.000-08:00

Dance!

- Going out is fun, but you can do that at home with tons of friends. A block from my place is the Centre de Dance du Marias. You can view the webcam of the center: http://www.parisdanse.com/webcam.asp. At this very old very cool dance center, you can take Classical ballet to Dance Boxing and at any age or level. The rooms wreak of sweat, but you get used it to it quickly as you become a sweating mess yourself. Here I have been taking African dance with Anna. Anna is an older, early 50's, African momma. She has 3-4 live percussionist playing various drums and the xylophone. She only teaches in French, which is a little hard to shake your head to while trying to keep in step with the quick changing movements. Supposedly on my first day Anna yelled at me for some bad footing then complimented me on my good dancing. My response was to stare at her, because I had no idea she was talking to me. After class that day I made 3 new friends who speak English and gave me the low-down of what happened in class. Then we met with Anna at her favorite African foodie joint. Anna of course realized my non-French disability and laughed. She then bought us our coffees and everyone's meal in the joint. Anna has Un Bon Coeur, I will miss her dearly. (Hey Jen! - Maybe I can make it past the first round of trials for Stomp this time :)... ok... probably not)

What the Paris

2008-11-23T01:06:00.000-08:00

Changing this shit up. Going to give you an entry for each of my favs to do in Paris. For this day you get the short shpeel about Walking.

My favs:
Dance!
Yoga - Namaste!
Eating!
Shopping!
Walking - I have been walking/jogging/running all over Paris. My favorite run is along the Seine. While on a run I carry some Euros in case I find something cute or more importantly need a drink. Nothing is really that far, so I avoid the Metro and walk every where. I think I have actually lost a few pounds, given how much I eat it's a miracle. I have no suggestions on where to go, enjoy your discovery!

Prelude to My Trip to Paris

2008-11-18T10:30:00.000-08:00

Today I made my favorite Parisian meal, fresh steak frites with a beautiful Bordeaux. All ingredients were purchased on my block at Rambuteau and Rue du Temple.

View Larger Map

I rented a 1 bedroom apartment in Paris for 5 weeks. A dream come true. Lucky for me my apartment is in Le Marais, secured in the heart of the city near great shops. You may have read a lot of stories or have been to the fantastic street markets of Paris. They do rule, but what is even better is my block. As each store on my block specializes in each food product; fruits & veggies, meat, fish, yummee bread, desserts, and fine wine... even videogames. So when I went online to secure an apartment, I friggin' lucked out! I'm just sayin'... You have to check out this block. If you come here at 6pm usually all the stores are open. Rambuteau is the street I speak of, you want start at Rue du Temple and head towards the George Pompidou, it's a block away. I don't kid.

Fresh fruit, veggies, spices, and meats makes a great meal and has inspired a little bit of writing. Here I am telling you, the Blogger screen and hopefully blog reader, about why I am in Paris.

Paris is another home for me, that's why I escaped to this beautiful city. I know it's sounds strange, because DC, NYC, Vail, and especially SF are my homes (yes, we all can have more than one place to call home if we travel enough). When I was une jeune fille, my mom had her first husband pay for trips for me to visit him and some of our family in France. So for 3 summers I would visit Paris, Toulouse, Nice, South Essex from ages 9 to 14 (-ish, I can't really remember the years/ages... it's close enough). If you read my previous blogs about Vietnam you would know that my Momz is Vietnamese. Her first husband is the same and is married to a French woman (now that is a long story). My (half-) siblings, 3 brothers 1 sister, are all birthed from this first husband, we can call him "Bo".

My first visit to Paris was with my Momz. We had a quick visit with Bo, stayed with her brother in Paris, then spent several weeks in Toulouse, Nice, and Madrid. My Aunt Ann lives in Toulouse with her family. She was my guardian in Vietnam and during our escape from the war. Ann is super genuine and a special lady. In her home, like my Uncle and Bo in Paris, Vietnamese and French are the languages of choice. Given my age during these visits, I had no idea what anyone was saying nor did I try to learn. So my French and Vietnamese is shit.

My second visit to Paris was solo. I flew by myself at the age of 12-ish and spent a lot of time with Bo in Paris. I remember glimpses of bouquets of croissants, bread, and cheese for breakfast with the French wife. What I do remember from that trip was that Bo drove me to Toulouse to stay with Ann for the rest of summer. In Toulouse at the awkward age of 12-ish, I was, well, awkward. Awkwardness is a bit of fun and disaster at once. Fun because, what do I care. I made friends, had cousins from Paris stay too, and the family took an RV to the south beaches of France. A disaster because my hips and legs are growing faster than my arms and torso. I'm like a Wolf puppy, growing too fast to understand what damage my tail and body can do. So I break everything I touch. My new size breaks the new swing sets, any kids toys, and takes the bike out to only land a handle bar streak along the brand new car. I suck, I know it, but what can I do... no one really understands my English.

My third trip to Paris started with my Sister, Tien. We spent a couple of weeks with Bo in Paris. Bo is ecstatic to have is daughter stay and we visit every stone (aka Tourist Attraction) in Paris. I have pictures to prove it, but they are boring and hiding in a box in a closet some where. I left my sister to fly to London and stay with a Junior High friend, Karen, in South Essex for a month. By my 14-ish self, I fly to London where Karen's father can pick me up. In South Essex, we cause a ruckus. (that too is another long story)

So to sum it up, Paris is another home. A place I am familiar with. A place for me to come to to relax and feel comfortable/safe. Today I am in Paris to write this story. I know it now. As I slowly write my history I will get to the point where I am today, slowly growing my hair back after shaving it off for a self-created fundraiser. The fundraiser was to help a family in need in SF that had gone through a tragic occurrence in their lives. (that's a whole entire novel)

Here in Paris, I have relearned how to relax and enjoy life in a different light. Don't worry, I'm still the hard working professional partier. But I'm also back to my holistic healing dancer chic too :)

Dalat, the San Francisco of Vietnam

2008-11-17T04:38:00.000-08:00

The drive up to Dalat is full of fun windy roads overlooking vast Vietnamese jungles. While enjoying the scenery, my thoughts were of anguish for those foreign soldiers that had to scale unknown mountain forests, wade through damp mosquito filled rice fields, and eat and be eaten by rodents and snakes. OK, not the best thoughts, but those ideas were there and made me finally enjoy the bus for a heartbeat.

On the mountain road we stopped for "ka", the Vietnamese quick saying for "bathroom". The hole was owned by a family that lived on the side of the road selling persimmons, and just persimmons. Their daughter was about 3, shy but letting me take photos of her.

We had a cute girl at about the same age on our bus. From the photos you can tell her attire is slightly different than the mountain girl. They were both super cute!

About twenty minutes later we come to another stop, Datanla. This was the coolest most fantastical place! It rules, hands down. At first glance it seems like a cheesy place with a single cheesy roller coaster ride. In reality, and if you give the people in front of you plenty of space, this ride is the best I've ever been on! It's just you (and your friend/lover if you want) sliding down a railed ride with your own brake to control the speed. While you ride you pass beautiful gardens and foliage. It can be a super fast glimpse of the scenery if you so desire. See my start of the ride down the hill with Tony behind me.

At the end of the ride there is a place to eat, drink, dance (they had music when we landed) and a gorgeous waterfall. To get back up the hill you take a ride back! Like I said, "This ride rules!"

Soon after Datanla we arrive at Dalat. Dalat is much like San Franicso with it's fog layer, cool breezes, and homes on hills. The people seem more laid back and enjoying life more than Hanoi & Saigon...or maybe I just was enjoying Dalat more than the other cities. Dalat is also my Momz favority city of Vietnam. She reserved an apartment in Dalat for 5 weeks after Tony & I left. There she gets to chillax and be with her peeps.

To get the essence of Dalat, I took a series of photos from my hip, literally. This way the people are not posing for photoshots or hiding from the camera. These are my favorite pictures of Vietnam, enjoy!

By now we have made our friends on our bus and they invite us out for drinks. We meet them at a restaurant for a bite and drink then off to go dancing. Now this was precious! This discotheque had live music, a band with a variety of singers that would perform Vietnamese and American/British songs. The dancing was 'different'. Everyone seemed to be dancing the cha cha cha. Some men wore heels...

(Yeah I know, I'm trying to fix the quality of the video)

I did join in when our friends pushed me on the dance floor. Luckily the music changed to some Latina booty shaking sounds. I'm not afraid to dance, shoot I studied dance for 3 years in school, and I'm not afraid to make more people join me on the dance floor. Bring it!

Crazy Kim's in Nha Trang

2008-11-16T01:39:00.000-08:00

During the entire 13 hour drive from Saigon to Nha Trang the sun was beaming down on Vietnam. Our first sunny day in over a week. When the bus stopped for lunch in a quaint beach town, we ate over-looking the water then relaxed with a beer under a palapa. The bus schedule only allowed 10 minutes to soak up the sun and scenery. Turns out we are only half way to Nha Trang, a beach city.

Nha Trang is nearly as noisy, and definitely as bustling, as Hanoi. Unfortunately for us, the only full day we spent in Nha Trang was a full day of rain. That left a few options, we chose to enjoy the food, have a drink, and go to a spa. The bus did some other tourist run, which we chose to skip.

Tony & I happened upon Crazy Kim's bar. A bar that promotes non-pedophilia. Here check it out for yourself:

Crazy Kim's holds classes at the bar during the day to mainly teach English, bar, spa and computer skills to the children of Nha Trang. Fundamentally the cause is good, but the promotion against pedophilia is done in an odd fashion. As the menu begins with it's heart wrenching story then also offers Blow Jobs for 60K Dong (that's less than $2). Yes, yes, it is a drink they are offering. Although in all my bar attendance (trust me I'm an Honor Student when it comes to attendance at bars around the globe) I have never seen a drink menu with a Blow Job nor a Pink Pussy nor any of these shots... maybe the Baby Guiness...

They even have Spa Packages:

Tony & I chose to enjoy a drink, no shots thank you. While sipping in the drink and environment, we met a couple of new friends. Cute kids selling stuff to us (when I say "cute" I don't mean... oh never mind).

I bought a book, The Girl in the Picture, the Story of Kim Phuc, the Photograph, and the Vietnam War. A great book to read before arriving to Vietnam. It turned out that the book I purchased was a copy, which made it inexpensive and slightly off. The pages are thinner, the text is gray instead of black, and sometimes the text slants on a page. The book cover looks like the real published book, except the Penguin Putnam logo is skewed. I had no idea it was copy until I was back on the bus heading to Dalat...

Saigon Tourist, the Vietnamese Way to Travel

2008-11-15T05:43:00.000-08:00

The Saigon Tourist bus is one way not to travel Vietnam, unless you are fluent in Vietnamese and like torture. I think my Momz loves torture with the hellish tour guide talking most of the way, telling us what to eat, where to sleep, when to get on a bus and when to get off. Personally, I like to travel on my time, or a fair group decision. When I drove with my (ex-)boyfriend to Costa Rica in 2000, we camped the entire way with pit stops at some beautiful little towns and beaches along the countryside. (When I say 'countryside' I'm referring to the following countries: Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, Belize, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama.) On this bus we traveled from Saigon to Nha Trang to Dalat and back to Saigon, a 5 day excursion with over 30 hours on the bus.
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We made some friends at the back of the bus (more stories in my Dalat entry). During last 10 hour road trip, I force fed a bottle of thick Vietnamese wine to ensure all in the back were loving it.

I was able to capture a Vietnamese version of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall while taping the scenery. Enjoy:

Made in Saigon

2008-11-14T01:59:00.000-08:00

That's right, I was born in Saigon not Ho Chi Minh City. Back when I crawled the streets the neighbors would think I was some dog they could have for dinner, but this baby knew how to slip through their fingers fast! I was out of Vietnam by 7 months and heading to the States. I suppose International traveling was always a part of me. OK....focus...

Tony, Momz, and I flew to Vietnam from Hanoi, a 2.5 hour flight. On our way to the hotel we quickly passed my at infancy Vietcong home. It still stands, but is now a business on a main strip. Shoot, I know I should have stopped the cab, gone in, or at least asked my Momz more about it. It just doesn't work that way with Asian Momz, if they don't want to get into it they drive right on by.

We semi-settled in a hotel, Thien Xuen, near the mega market. It's the tourist trap market, locals don't shop there. Supposedly it is pricey, for us the goods are definitely affordable, plus everything you ever want is in one spot. Peruse through these photos and catch a glimpse of some market fare:

Saigon is slightly less noisy than Hanoi. Tony & I decided that the honking is at a minimum, where the driver's are only saying, "I'm making a left." with a single honk. In Hanoi all the drivers like to announce their breathing with a toot.

I forgot to mention it, but I'm sure you already know, the food is fantastic every where we have been so far. I love Vietnamese food. Eat it! Actually, except for the Saigon Tourist bus stop foods. That story is coming up!

Halong Bay meet Team Mental Midgets

2008-11-13T13:23:00.000-08:00

It takes about 5 hours to drive from Hanoi to Halong Bay with one stop to pee in a hole and grab a popsicle. You could shop at this stop to buy some trinket or an entire painting or maybe some mung bean candy. But when you are hungover, a popsicle or 12 would be nice. The hole to pee in and whatever you may have to do, well, that's just nasty. In Nam, the rest stops have normal toilets if you are lucky, otherwise you are dealing with a hole, a large bucket of water, and a plastic pale to scoop that water into your hole to 'flush'. Even worse are the rest stops that only have 1 of those hole stalls, the rest are only for #1 and you have to basically pee on the ground and wash it aside. Lesson learned quickly, bring your own wipes and get ready for squatting. Anyway...

Getting to your Junk boat is like a bad audition. Everyone is waiting in some un-uniformed line trying to get in and are nervous about what boat they are about to embark on. Thankfully, we had my Momz. She knows how to make sure we are being sought after. Even so, we had to wait about 30 minutes to get ushered through the gate and on to the skinny path to our boat. As we passed the junky Junks, we were pleasantly surprised to see our boat have real plants, a nice mini deck, and a wet towelette for our arrival. The girl that was passing out the individual towelettes became my Momz new project. Get her married to Tony.

After 2 days, my Momz was unsuccessful in having a shotgun wedding on the Junk. Although we did capture some touching moments with the girl and Tony talking in the breeze on the deck. Damn you Ding Dong get those photos up!!!

Without Dinger's photo loading handy work, I don't have much to show you. Except these of us... you can kind of see the background... kind of.

While cruising on the Junk you pass some junk in the water, from plastic bags to someone's red purse. The sails are for show, and the boat runs on gas. There are about 50 Junks out there at once... I wasn't really counting...All the boats have to follow a similar path to 'preserve' the natural surroundings. Even so, I saw 1 bird, just one. Oh and a rat, I definitely saw a rat on one of the islands, the one with a little beach (which you have to pay to access) and a pagoda on top of it's peak. Dinger, Tony, and I climbed to the top in the sweltering humidity. The view was amazing, but it was also where I saw the rat.

Prior to the beach we hiked through the Luray Caverns of Halong Bay. Which is enormous. I was picturing an invisible piano played by Rowan Atkinson sans all the other tourists. Our tour guide's English was good, much better than any of my second languages (yes, I have more than 1 second language). His English and history just wasn't good enough to listen to though. So I tried to run astray, he would catch up to me, so I gave in and listened, "here you have a turtle! the stone make a turtle. this is good luck. throw money and rub head."

Don't ask.

That night on the Junk was epic. Our boat didn't have enough bedrooms for all of the guests, which meant that Tony had to stay on another boat. Which really meant we had, not just one, but TWO extra boats to play with. Fun! Both were named White Dolphin, and both were luxurious. The newest one, featured in the said link, was celebrating it's first night on the Bay. That meant free Remy's on ice for Tony (and us if we wanted them) and for us to chill in the super yummy top deck while listening to the owner and crew party it up karaoke style downstairs. Finally, no honking, no moving, no bad history, and no match-making for Tony.

The owner of the White Dolphin is some lead in the Communist regime. It showed. He eventually kicked us out of his party after playing the drink, don't drink with me game. I could tell he didn't like the look of me or the fact that I squint without speaking Vietnamese. He said something strange to Tony too like, "I would talk to you but you don't understand me." Tony replied in Vietnamese, "I can understand everything you say, just talk to me directly."

Drama. The Cong are still strong about cultural purification. The whole country is filled with pure Vietnamese, that is Chinese now Vietnamese. I'm not trying to even go there...

In the morning, ladies on row boats filled with wet, dried, wet, and redried junk food products for you to purchase. They try to rape you on the prices, since you are on a boat in the Bay. We lucked out with our boat's cuisine. The meals were tasty with a variety of seafood for each meal. Yum.

Once we landed we were heading back to Hanoi, and this time we are in a 5 star hotel. Proper. The Hanoi Sheraton is where we said, "Goodbye!" to Dinger and Cakes after a long hot shower. We missed them instantly. I drew them on the bar's pool sign up board to have them with us still.

In my drawing, Dinger has his camera around his neck and Cakes has the Mental Midget necklace around hers. She was the ultimate Mental Midget on the team and wore it most of the cruise. Wonder why? Here's a good video for reference:

Next day was Saigon, where I was born.

Hiya Hanoi!

2008-11-13T08:41:00.000-08:00

If you arrive in Hanoi any time before 10pm, you are welcomed with honking. Lots of honking. Most of the noise is produced by the hundreds of scooters plaguing the streets. I think the city hires most of them to drive around to look like they have a destination. Watch this video taken from our taxi catching a girl fixing her hair and then capturing the onset of scooters desperately wanting to run into us. While you watch, imagine crossing the street on foot, slowly, ever so carefully to avoid being hit.

The headache was intense after a few hours of listening to the traffic communicate in honks. Hanoi is not the place to relax. It is a wonderful town to explore...with a plastic bag on your head. Yes, I said a plastic bag. Ding Dong thought to cheer my spirits by walking the streets with a balloon tied to his wrist and a black plastic bag worn as a hat on his head. We already usurped a plastic string, that would be used to tie a box, and made it our "Mental Midget" necklace, a sort of trophy for saying or doing something stupid. So this Vietnam Team of freaks walked the streets on our second night to get a drink. It was hilarious. If Dinger ever loads his videos and pictures I would show you some beautiful proof. At any rate, we were out. We walked straight into a gay bar and to the back to find a place to stand/dance. Dinger is attacked by a girl pawing for the balloon, which of course he gave to her. She runs back all excited to tell her entourage of gay men and lands the balloon right on a fan...POP! I point at Dinger's head. Dinger understood. Give the girl the plastic bag, blow it up first to replace the helium balloon! Intelligence is here! Hilarious. She loved it. Her entourage adores her and us. We dance, drink and Tony semi-translates. Plus we scored a Fag-Hag and her crew! Yippee! My kind of crowd.

Soon after the bar shuts so we have to move on to a club, on an old boat, off a rickety peer-like walking bridge. The music is pretty tight, the bar and dance floor is packed, but the Hag says it's going to shut and didn't want to pay to go in. Us Americans, we just walk in. I still can't figure out if there was supposed to be a cover, but we just strolled right in. We lost our new friends in the process, which was the saddest part of our trip. We closed that place and were definitely loaded from drinking. Time to go home, except Tony had other plans. Given that he was the only person on the team that speaks Vietnamese, we were stuck with what he communicated to our taxi driver. Trust me, I fought his desire to move on to the next club. Thankfully, I lost. We ended up at the Hanoi Sheraton, the location of a discotheque. As the cab pulls up, Tony hops out and goes straight in the club. We watch a couple of Vietnamese LA-style chics in tight little dresses go in as well. Us, we look like derelicts. (Yeah, yeah... there was a plastic bag on someone's head earlier, doesn't mean we are derels.) So, as Tony, our friend and translator, is gone inside. We walk around to the outside where a beautiful garden awaits us...and a security guard. No worries, we don't look the part but we are good people nothing to show in our bags except... Cakes forgot she had a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in her bag! Doh! That's OK we toss it aside and enjoy the scenery. Shoot, we go inside and enjoy a little more. Crap, I love it so much I get us a room for when we return from Halong Bay. The entire place is well Air Conditioned, the floor sparkles, and someone bought us french fries just because they heard us drunkards wanting some french fries...desperately. I had to get a room! This was heaven after the honks, sweating, and nearly 3 star hotel we called home. We had to hang out in the hotel lobby and play with our Dong. Not Ding Dong, well him too, but our money. The exchange rate from USD to Vietnamese Dong is 1 to 36,000. So we are millionaires. I have so much Dong that Dinger wants to throw it every where. Again, he needs to give up the goods and share some footage.

After causing enough ruckus, we finally returned to Splendid Star. Our newly built dive hotel, I don't recommend it. At Splendid Star, the rooms were quiet (which is a plus) with leaking showers and a charming family in their 30's that run it. The family members are good at making sure you welcomed to their hotel, family, and home. The free breakfast is not the best, although it is nice to sit downstairs to meet other travelers. The Sister of the family hooked us up with our 2 day excursion on a Junk boat in Halong Bay. Our hungover adventure awaits us...

Prelude to My Trip to Vietnam

2008-11-12T09:58:00.000-08:00

In 1974 I was born in Saigon, Vietnam, before the city was renamed to Ho Chi Minh. Seven months later my family fled to the Philippines to a refugee camp then on to US to settle outside of Washington, DC. My father was a retired Colonel of the US Army, born in Puerto Rico with Basque parents, and an employee of the US embassy in Saigon. This made him able to relatively easily evacuate our family and relatives from the Cong. My mother was working at the Embassy where she met my father. Her family was from North Vietnam. She went to school in Saigon at the only "Finishing School", which was closed by the Communist in 1975.

When I was 2 years old, my father was diagnosed with ALS or better known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, and the disease of which Stephen Hawking suffers. Two years later he passed away, leaving me and his adopted four children to my mother. The four kids are my mothers children from her first marriage, and to me they are my three brothers and my sister. We grew up Vietnamese but spoke broken English at home. Leaving me looking ever so slightly different than my Vietnamese family. My other Vietnamese relatives and family friends would say strange things to me over the years like:

"Oh, you so big!" - referring to by bone structure, height, and perhaps booty (depending on what age we are talking about here folks).
"Diep Waaaaaaaah!" - That's phonetic Vietnamese. Which I always thought meant, "Jesus Christ!" or something of the like, since every time I heard it there were big eyes and a loud "Waaaaaaaah!" at the end. I'll tell you the true meaning in a couple of paragraphs :)
"You not Vietnamese!" - Um, yeah. Just because I don't speak your language doesn't mean my heritage isn't Vietnamese. I just can't wait to meet more Basque people and see what they have to say.
"You no speak Vietnamese? Ooooooh." - Oh boy.

At any rate, this trip to Vietnam was my first return to the Mother Land. So why not go with my mother? I did.

That is, with her and my good old friend TRoam from DC. Lucky for me, TRoam is super laid-back, friendly, fun, and fluent in Vietnamese. Yippee! More cheers for more friends, Yippee! Cause DingDong & Cakes came too! Hurray! Dinger & Cakes were only there for the first 4 days but it was hellah fun. Did I say, "hella"? Oi. It's Team Vietnam, The Mental Midget Parade (definition comes later).

I cheer for the Team as they helped me cope with my mother on the trip. She's Asian and a Mom, that makes her special and especially hard to cope with for 2 weeks. Those that have an Asian Mom know what I'm talking about, everyone else either have read Joy Luck Club or should.

Moving on... We toured Hanoi, Halong Bay, Saigon, Nga Trang, and Dalat. I'll have an entry for each and the 'interesting' Saigon Tourist tour bus ride. Interesting... Diep Waaaaaaaaaah!
Ok, "Diep Waaaaaaah!" does not mean "Oh good Lordee". It means "She so cute!" Really I'm not narcissistic.

Motivation is Here!

2008-11-12T08:05:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a week's worth of true R&R, yoga, and chats with friends, I am finally motivated to write. First order of business is to complete my bloggery of my trip to Vietnam. While those photos, hilarious videos, and scripting is occurring please enjoy a little bit of wig-ery thanks to my Skype video conversation with Seth. Meow!

Making History!

2008-11-05T13:12:00.000-08:00

OBAMA WINS
NO on 8 LOSES
and so much more...

I have a hunch many of you have lots to say and read around the election, so I'll keep this short. Thank you for your vote for Obama! I know you did or either you can't vote for one reason or another, or you wouldn't be reading my blog! Yeah for making history!!

This election turned another corner on history.... WTF... Yes on 8? Why? Why did we fall into a pattern of hate and fear? Do tell. I'm so pissed that I'm going to talk about another subject....

I'm bald, in Paris, on a very extended vacation, making history.
Why bald? Then you haven't read my last entry. Go to www.katheegoesbald.blogspot.com Updating of that blog comes tomorrow after I'm a little less fuming.
Why Paris? I love this city. I speak little to no French, but I plan to use my 5 weeks here to write. To write the beginning of a book and to write in this blog.
Extended vacation? 3.5 months off of work. I have been professional party-er and YouTuber for the past year and I'm tired! Drained. Time to rejuvenate and give thanks to all my friends and all the people I've met in my life.
Making history? I was offered a full-time job from Google/YouTube while on vacation in Vietnam, which makes me the first non-graduate to be offer a job by Google. History baby. And about Vietnam...

OMG ... finally!

2008-09-24T12:33:00.000-07:00

YES! Because my assistant created my next blog in Blogger (in English), I was able to realize there is an easy drop down on the top right of My Account Homepage to let me change the language simply!! Yeah, I now do not have to know Japanese and Chinese characters to write in my blog... which was a serious drag!

I know you are curious...Here's my new blog: http://katheegoesbald.blogspot.com/

READ IT!

10:03 AM... I get it!

2008-08-11T02:04:00.000-07:00

Turns out that no one is supposed to be on this floor... for a reason!! The entire floor is being re-wired and someone is picking me up now to go to the first floor, where the leprechauns hide their gold...

They must be leprechauns!

2008-08-11T01:39:00.000-07:00

That's right, I'm in Dublin for work. After 5 hours of sleep, a quick jog along the river, working on my training documents, getting jerked by the taxi and driven in a big circle, I managed to get to work waaaaaaaaay before anyone on the 4th floor. It's 9:42 AM and still no one in sight. Not 1 single person is sitting at their desk working. I did run in to a few people (no one I know of course) in the basement kitchen getting and eating breakfast. But as I sit here and avoid continuing scripting the training documents for which I have to use for training today, there is not 1 person in the room. It's a big room too, let's see...I just counted 16 rows of 6 desks each that is 96 desks...NINETY SIX! Not counting the offices. It can't be a holiday, maybe there is some event, or perhaps work in Dublin doesn't start until 10 AM on Mondays? Or everyone got in the same cab I did and is being driven around in circles. Now 9:46 AM and still ...not a single soul sitting in the remaining 95 desks. I'm so glad I partied on Friday night...

When in Japan

2008-08-10T14:57:00.000-07:00

When blogging in Japan, Blogger thinks you are in Japan and all the buttons and instructions are well...in Japanese and Chinese characters. But when you are back in the USA and then fly you and your computer to Ireland you just might find that blogger isn't so smart... this shit is still in Japanese and Chinese! I can guess the locations of the buttons I want to push, but dammit, if I hit cancel after writing this I will bust some Google/Blogger ass! Of course, I could just email someone internally (like IT or Blogger themselves) and get this fixed. Who has time for that? Shit, I don't have time to blog even! OK I can figure this out... Babblefish will translate the buttons!

http://babblefish.com/freetranslation.php
to
http://www.freetranslation.com/

Per Babble Fish:
Button #1: 投稿を公開 = Disclosure of contribution
(OK, not what I expected. Could mean "Upload")
Button #2: すぐに保存 = Right away preservation
(Shit! Now that has to mean "Save")

So if I hit either at least I'm not canceling my entry.
I'm going for Button #1, if I don't report back then we have succeeded! And apparently you are reading this entry. If not, then I used Plan B...which I'm still making up right now.

All in all, I now know why Japanese shirts written in English mean absolutely nothing to those that read/write/fully understand the language. Which reminds me... never ask a Japanese tourist, "what time is it now?"

OH... and...here goes!

Russian around town

2008-05-20T20:39:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a huge day. We joined in on one of the biggest yearly festivals in Tokyo, in Asakusa. It reminded me of an outdoor Asian version of the Old City in Jerusalem, where there are walking corridors of pushy people browsing and shopping. The shopping was fruitful, I have tons of trinkets and bullshit toys for everyone! You know you want one, don't deny the junk of Japan :) But seriously, I found a cool knife maker shop thinger ma-jinger. Got some cool Japan originals and the keepers sat on the floor in front of you and sharpened the knives right there before you take them home. HOT! As for food, well it's festie food, for the US that is hot dogs, churros, snowcones, pretzels w/mustard, and some random ethnic foods. For Japan, festie foods are like squid bits or entire baby squids in a ball of cheesy like dough topped with fish flakes and served in a box of 6. Like you would ever eat 6 of these things...but um, yeah, who am I to judge? It was...different. (come back for pictures later tonight) Well after dropping a few hundred dollars, tens of thousands of Yens, and purchasing my first kimono, we took our bags, broken feet, gummy residue in our teeth from the squid back to the hotel to meet the Russian. Karpeisky arrived at 7pm, half asleep, ready to roll. And it had begun...

Wow

2008-05-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

Wow...

Focus on Japan

2008-05-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

Enough of the banter :) It's time for more Japanese phrases!

Table messes - (really ends with a 'u', like 'mesu') Would you like to eat?
No me messes - (ditto) Would you like to drink?

Chew toe - little
Oh key - big

Airy "Gato" - (the 'gato' is spanish for 'cat') Thank You
don't touch my moustache - You're welcome

Come itch my what? - Hello!
Mooshy Mooshy - Hello!... only on the phone

Tonight we were supposed to meet my friend and lawyer, Alex. But our jet-lagged asses were crashed out taking a nap until 8:30pm. Doh! Instead, we took Alex's advice and ate at an Izakaya restaraunt (it's a name of a chain) then accidentally walked into the red light district. (remember, this is a clean blog :)
After that we stumbled upon a hair salon. What's that saying?..."When in Rome..." I'm a Hoppa, I need to get my haircut in Asia! So I have Japanese bangs now. Sweet.

Sigh Re-Know-Ra

Busted!

2008-05-15T23:23:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm busted. Not just in the chest, as so many people love to comment on... including me. See example # 2222 to the right. Um... yeah, like you missed that one. Anyway...

I was busted today, two times over. (again not a boob reference, really)

1. Dr. Bad Scott was a little perturbed about my last entry, not mad mind you, but he had this response to say about my dissing on Japanese character tattoos,

"All i have to say krackoff is my string of japanese characters has brought much happiness to all those in close proximity. It's so short that according to your translation everyone gets to “ride this ride". I wouldn’t have it any other way... I am an equal opportunity ride. Besides, it also doubles as a glass table. Meow meow.

P.S.- you know you have a snow flake tattoo btw, I mean its no dolphin on your ankle but seriously… ;)"

And this is why I love my BFF.

Hey Scott, if you did actually tattoo the phrase it would be long enough to actually reject a girl here or there. It would read, "この乗車に乗るために高いこれでなければならない"

Now that is a long torso!

2. Seth busted me on my lack of knowledge of asian characters in my last entry. According to him I sampled Chinese characters not Japanese characters. His comment can be read in my last entry and says that my Hoppa/Halfie status is now lower. I'm hardly ashamed, because even though Vietnamese is in Asia and rhymes with Chinese and Japanese, the Viets do not use any hieroglyph or asian swishes for writing. Vietnamese is written in Latin letters with more of a French influence. I understand egrets and accent agues more than I do any asian character. Also, just for your knowledge, "自動的" means "automatic". I copied it from some text that currently shows up in my blog edit page, since Blogger sees my IP in Japan all the text are in asian swish blah blah and now I know some of the text is actually Chinese not only Japanese. We learn!

OK. I know none of you read any of that because you are still staring at my boobs. I WIN!

Love you Scott and Seth!

Another Japanese Character

2008-05-15T02:31:00.000-07:00

What is up with those stupid tattoos anyway? Sorry, Scott... 自動的...
Just because it's Japanese doesn't mean it's cool, and really doesn't mean you should tattoo it on your body. Although, I still love what I came up with as the translation for the Japanese character tattoo that Dr. Bad Scott has running up the left side of his torso, "Ah, you must be this tall to ride this ride."

Anyway, the real character in Japan has now arrived, Tien!! (That's my sis) She is passed-the-fuck-out due to the long flight from Washington, DC. It's 6:42pm and I'm starrrrrrrrved. What do you say on the count of 3 we wake her ass up... 1, 22222222222....

More Japanese Phrases

2008-05-14T17:44:00.000-07:00

Here's a funny story...

crickets....

My brain has finally caved. So tired of the over-working and over-playing. After 5 successful trainings yesterday, this teacher is going to take a break. Done. (do you hear the crickets? Can you tell I'm running slower than a slug?) Never you mind that it's 9:45am on a work day. I did my 12 hours yesterday, 5am - 5pm.

A few fellow Tubers took me out last night to show me the town, drink and be merry. Went to a very traditional restaurant where your legs burn from keeping them crossed. I sat in the place of honor and was served much beer and sake... yum. I asked the group what are good tongue twisters in Japanese, you know like, "Sally sold seashells by the seashore". That really got them going. It was fun watching them spittle their way through some "kika kaku kabuki ka" sayings.

New phrases:
"So. so. so. so." = yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
"yoish, ish, ish" = for shizzle my nizzle (it's slang that one co-worker says a lot)

and when we ask someone who speaks Japanese "What time is it now?" it translates to something stupid like, "You got that digged potato?"
So when you ask the time, try not to add the "now" at the end, and you may actually get the time.

crickets.

Japan, the anti-stress therapy

2008-05-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

Prepping for my Japan visit has been super stressful. I was freaking for 2 weeks about all the trainings that I have to lead here, 17 trainings to be exact over the course of 8 business days. The first day was supposed to be "easy" with 1 training introduction with many of the Japan Sales, Biz Dev, Legal, and Ad Ops members... cake. But due to scheduling conflicts 4 trainings were moved up to the first day post-jet-lag. And, yes you guessed it, I was sweating bullets trying to prep all the presentations...SWEATING. So, last weekend I did the logically thing and drank myself to oblivion. A day in the sun drinking Medjool rooftop style was a good cure, then dancing the night away at an underground party sounded up my stressful alley, leaving Sunday for a solid day of burning brain cells, partying at a BBQ, and having friends over for Karaoke until 11pm.

It's OK, I'm a professional. If there is anything I know how to do it is work hard and play hard.

So, yeah.. today... it's 4pm Tokyo time and I finished my 5 trainings early. They went swimmingly. The Japanese are always so agreeable so much so that anything I say brings a smile! Which is the complete 180 from my Israel trips and 100% pleasant. So yes, again it's 4pm on a workday and I have decided to take my break and write in this blog, share a moment, and let you know that Japan is a great anti-stress therapy.

Now it's time to drink!

Oh and I have learned a couple Japanese phrases:
"Height, so this knee!" - Yes I agree (or something like that)
and
"Don't touch my moustache" - You are welcome

Say them fast and with force, they will understand you.

Fuck has it really been 1.5 years?

2008-05-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

I wrote this 8 Months after my 2006 entry and never posted it. – Israel, A Day at the Massada and the Dead Sea

Hey there. I’ve been royally slacking on keeping my blog up-to-date. There are several reasons why, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of my excuses. I do have to say that I’m in a much happier place in my life and writing is something I enjoy. And since you are taking the time to read this, I’ll try to remember to write as much as possible.

In the past 8 months I’ve had a handful of friends tell me that they actually check back to my blog looking for more information. I’m flattered, thanks y’all! Also…I’m going to Israel…again. I leave in a couple of weeks and I thought it best to finish my first trip so I can write about the second trip. OK…here goes…let’s see how fried my brain cells are…

Oct 21, 2006 – Sat

Today we had a new tour guide, whats-his-name. He was much more aware of what his clients needed. For example, he let us buy water before we started our day…unlike Jaime, who enjoyed seeing us suffer. Funny thing was that whats-his-name turns out to be Jaime’s cousin. They don’t talk much, but I could see that. Anyway….

Whats-his-name has a new gold Jeep Cherokee with leather seats. Which means he was making a shit ton of money. It’ll cost you a handful to get a private guide for a day, but well worth it… especially if you get what-his-name. So, remember we are in Jerusalem and today we are going to the Massada and to the Dead Sea. Yum! But to get there we have to drive through the West Bank, Rocket Country. It’s a desert, a very large and rarely inhabited desert.

On the side of the road you can see sheep herders living among their sheep under the scorching sun. Suddenly, I felt like we were back in Jesus’ time. We stop to took look over a cliff and really soak in how vast the desert is. There is even a real live Oasis, really! I wasn’t tripping and I was fully air conditioned from the car. Here’s a short video clip as we stood on the border of Samaria and Judea, notice no rockets today.

Then we traveled along the West side of the Dead Sea south to the Massada. We stopped at the Ahava factory. It’s heaven for a girl and a girl with a lot of girlfriends. I had to buy some stock in the store and got a box full of products to take home. The lotions and products are made from the minerals in the Dead Sea, hence the location and the yummy girly shit.

Once we get to the Massada it’s high noon. I thanked the-god-you-believe-in that it’s NOT summer and our tour guide had proper hats for us to wear. Manly because James and I had our hearts set on climbing the Massada. We are a few brave souls. The first 200 yards isn’t bad, you are just walking along from the building to towards the perpendicular ascent. As you are doing this tortuous event, the tram to carry those lazy folk goes up/comes down and taunts you with it’s humming of mechanics. Bitches. Of course my “athletic” asthma kicks in during the ascent. There are switchback stairs up the mountain, and halfway up I have to stop at every turn to catch my breath and suck on my inhaler. I don’t think I would have survived if James wasn’t there. James became my true BFF. When I stopped he stopped, and he gave me some confidence to be able to climb this beast. The final 50 yards is the worst. You can’t even see where the torture ends and every turn you think you are at the top. And that fucking tram, that tram is just laughing at you! At the top, I collapse on the cold slabs of Jerusalem brick inside a cave-like walkway. I’m sweating more than ever, and left a puddle under my stone bench… yum. Water is free up top, just bring a container. If you climb the Massada, listen to all the advice… CLIMB BEFORE SUNRISE! First of all you won’t die, you don’t have to listen to that fucking tram, and you supposedly see the most amazing sunrise on top of the Massada.

The Massada is amazing. It’s amazing that anyone would be so desperate to live on top of this plateau! The story is out of this world. I won’t get into all the details as I’m not a historian. But clearly Herod the King was nuts, a megalomaniac, desperate, and brilliant. Scared of the Romans, he found a perfect location to house over 900 of his people. The Massada is next to the Dead Sea, of which is the only standing water and is absolutely un-drinkable. There is no vegetation and desert all around. The ascent is 450 Meters straight up. So what does Herod do? Not only does he figure out a way to divert mountain rain water into large cisterns to save once a year for the entire year, he also makes two large (10’x10’) rooms for a hot bath and sauna. Yes, it took lots of water and burning wood. All of which are worlds away from the Massada. This was all built, enjoyed, and destroyed over a span of (can’t remember 9-20) years…. (told you I’m not a historian). So when the Romans came, Herod’s peeps rolled rocks on the Romans as they tried to climb the Massada. After many futile tries the Romans got smart and decided to simply hammer out a section of a nearby mountain and rebuild a mountain that leads up to the Massada gate… like a handicap ramp. Once Herod realized his doom, him and

his peeps committed suicide and only 5 people were found al

ive by the Romans.

(Holy stories Leggo style. This picture was not meant to represent what I’m sharing with you)

----today is 5/11/08--- I need to finish this day so I can go on with more entries. So no more fancy links or pictures just a description of one of the most bizarre events I have ever experienced.

The Dead Sea is one very good reason to go to Israel. At the banks, the beach is grey mud where you can bounce on it, sink in to your hips, roll around in it, and rub it all over body. The mud is supposed to keep you youthful and your skin super yum. As you enter the sea the water is full of minerals making it somewhat gelatinous with mineral rocks on the sea floor mix in the mud. So you can imagine walking into the sea is similar to walking in jello made on top of nails. And as you go deeper you might find from black mud, which is more precious than the grey since the location is hard to get to… and it’s better? Anyway the hot young Israelis work hard to get to the black mud and smear it all over their body, and frown upon the grey mud people. Now imagine really hot chics with black tits and drinks in hand try to walk out of the sea towards you… the whole picture with them, other people rolling in grey mud, others floating on water on their backs, some fat dude walking and falling in the sea, and mud patties held in peoples hands… it’s like a scene from a zombie movie. Awesome.

I have to run, I think I have that syndrome from visiting Jerusalem… I heard this is what happens when you leave.

Next trip is Japan, for work, tomorrow…. And I have to write about that!

Dancing in Israel

2006-12-03T12:36:00.000-08:00

While I have your undivided attention, watch this video from our last night in Jerusalem on the streets of Benha Yuda. Those are Hassidic Jews dancing to their music with militia ready to reign in any over abuse of free speech.

Prelude to My Trip to Israel

2006-12-02T15:58:00.000-08:00

Is it Peace or Hate? (Picture from JPost.com)

I’m rather ignorant about world affairs, I prefer it that way…usually. You’ll see incidents in my blog where I just simply don’t know my shit. Why not just read more CNN, catch up on the latest quotes from our great President, or simply watch the news? Cause to me, it all seems like a big lie -- something made up to steer the publics beliefs -- and as much as I love a good drama, I will get myself totally caught up in believing what I read or see. I’ll get angry, sad, and frustrated in the world and in the fact that I can’t do anything about it. So I stay ignorant, but will dabble into the news here and there so I don’t sound dumb.

I know enough news to know that my pending trip to Israel could be dangerous. So I go on YouTube and find out how Israeli culture is today. First video I find is rather ominous, Three Days in Israel. The comments are what really kills me: “Absolutely beautiful.. This video has made my day. Maybe if they gave back the land they stole, many of them would still be alive.. Fuck Israel” This wasn't exactly what I was hoping to view, especially prior to my trip. The clip set that intensely depressing tone you just don't want to have before a 14 hour flight. Well, I continue on my search in YouTube and find a link to someone who has taken the time to really show how the news is represented to us from Pallywood…that’s Palestine’s Hollywood. The clip is 10 minutes long… really take the time to watch the whole clip if you would like a different view in to the news.

Those 2 videos were enough for me to handle, so I searched more on YouTube for something lighter. This time I really want to get the culture. Nothing too impressive to share, but I saw some footage of people parasailing, street biking, and clubbing. Maybe the Israeli’s are just like us Americans? I soon find out that they are...in so many ways…

Oct 18^th - Wed

I arrive in Tel Aviv around 5PM from NYC. My company sent me to Israel to work in their Jerusalem office and had a driver at the airport to pick me up. Shoosh is her name and she is really nice, speaks great English, and drives like an Israeli. No, she did not have a gun. The airport is about 30-45 minutes from my Hotel room in Jerusalem. The highways are well lit with multiple lanes, like America… actually better than any other country I have been to. (I’ll have to blog about my trips through Europe and my drive from California to Costa Rica at another time.) The Israeli’s have no concept of ‘stay-in-your-lane’ driving techniques. They prefer to drive from one or two lanes to another, wherever the car or road takes you. For that reason alone, I would NOT suggest anyone to simply rent a car in Israel and drive to your destination… nor would I suggest a bus, per the “Three Days In Israel” clip above. Taking taxis or having personal guides/drivers is a must. Having your job pay for it all is a plus.

In Jerusalem, I am staying at the Prima Royale. A lovely quaint hotel that lacks a gym or pool, but gives you 2 bathrobes in your room… um, ok. The “queen” bed is a farce and really is 2 twins pushed together, each made with twin sheets and covered with a queen duvet. Um, ok. What was really cool about the Hotel was the breakfast of fish, pastries, canned fruit, cereal, juices, and really truly best of all: a live pianist. I felt like I was in Schindler’s List. (music is directly from movie)

That night a couple of co-workers came and picked me up for dinner. James is a co-worker from the US who arrived earlier that day. Ofer is our head engineer in Israel and has offered to take us out to dinner. I’m in heels because I don’t know what to expect. We leave the Hotel and I soon realize heels was a poor choice. Ofer says we are walking for 10 minutes to our destinations. 10 minutes turned into 30 over stone walkways. We passed Ben Ayuda and some other parts of the city until we reach Sami. James and I wanted something authentic to Israel and boy did we get it. A nice pita over-flowing with juicey skillet fried whole pieces of chicken parts, like hearts, livers, tripe, and meat. This is called the Jerusalem Mix(ed), created during the War to use up all the parts of an animal to feed everyone. It was good, tasty, but a hell of a lot of food! I instantly had a Jerusalem Brick in my stomach. (That’s a pun only understood if you know that Jerusalem is required to have every building built from the same brick, Jerusalem Brick. The sidewalks too, hence the broken heels and the beauty that is Jerusalem.)

Oct 19^th – Thurs

I felt like shit. That Mix really is not moving and my body is hating it, this on top of all the flights to get to my destination. Do NOT eat a Jerusalem Mix your first night in Israel… duly noted. I had to work on this day and met most of the 15+ engineers/programmers in Israel. We eat Hummus for lunch…as the main course. I really wanted to keel over and die, instead we work until about 8PM and decide the best course of action is to drive straight from work (in my heels AGAIN) and go to Tel Aviv for dinner and clubbing. In Israel, Thursday night is the US equivalent of a Friday night…it is the end of the work week.

(No bombing when I was there, but an image to walk into the situation.)

In Tel Aviv, we eat a delicious meal at Brasserie -- it’s open 24/7. Almost every good restaurant and bar is open 24/7 in Tel Aviv. Being there is a time warp. I’m not the partier I once was and my bell rings at midnight the latest to usher me home. In Tel Aviv, my bell is muted and all I hear is “Want another drink?” After the Brasserie we visit several bar/clubs, none of which I can remember their names. We also drive to Jaffa to check out the scenery. When we decide to head home, I’m wasted, James is literally doing cartwheels on the sidewalk, and it’s 4:30AM. Thank the-god-you-believe-in we had Ofer as the dedicated driver to take us home.

Oct 20^th - Fri

OK so my alarm is really annoying. I have a headache the size of Dubai and I have to run downstairs to meet James and our guide at Noon. Crap, I wish I had something to eat or drink first. Jaime /ha/ Pronunciation Key[hahy-mee] is our guide for the day. He probably has been in the guide business for 30 years and teaches younger guides the way of the business. I think he believes he owns Jerusalem. So James and I begin our class for the day, hung the fuck over, dehydrated, starved, but totally willing to learn. First we drive to an overlook next to Mount Scopus to view the desert.

We learn why the land of Israel is called “Milk and Honey”. Honey because Jerusalem sits on a hill where rain and clouds still form, and vegetation grows to allow bees to make honey. Milk is for the desert because that is where the shepherds take the goats and sheep to graze, and the people get their milk from. Jaime continues to talk, we continue to starve.

The next location, Jaime demands we shut our eyes and trust him to guide us to a point where we will see a “magnificent view”. Don’t cheat now…keep your eyes closed. Oh and watch out for that step. Thank the-god-that-you-worship I was smart enough to finally not wear heels… besides they are broken by now. Open your eyes and voilla…

Hee Hee… Ok I sorta am kidding with you. See that gold dome in the distance? That’s the Dome of the Rock at the Temple Mount in the Old City. We were looking at that, the City of David, and the Jewish graves just below while standing on top of the Mount of Olives:

We sit here for 1.5 hours… HUNGRY:

And we listen about all the history of the Old City. I can tell you everything, but the pain of the memory of sitting in the sun, here, hungry, thirsty, listening, and listening is way too painful for me to recall. Here’s a good site to check out on your own. I’ll give you some highlights as we walk through the Old City itself.

We drive the Mount of Olives on a skinny curvy 2 lane road to see where Jesus hid from the Romans and touched the rock he cried on when he found out his friends were lame. The church that houses said rock also has the oldest olive trees supposedly dated back when Jesus himself picked from the trees. They look old, but 2,000 years old…. Hmm, OK.

I forgot to mention that this day was the last day of Ramadan. When on top of the Mount of Olives, we were able to see lots of little black figures surrounding the Temple Mount of all the Arabs praying. Our guide was some what stalling us from entering the Old City (and eating) because access was limited due to the number of Arabs there praying. We finally are close to the Old City gates and stand overlooking the Mount of Olives from the opposite hillside. I’m infatuated with the Church of Mary Magdeline. But I’m really taken away with the sounds of prayer reverberating in the valley (that voice you hear is Jaime talking and talking and…)

Finally, 2 hours later we are in the Old City! The first stop the ornate Armenian Church! No not food, what were you thinking!

There are 4 quarters in the Old City, the Armenian quarter being one of them, where they have built an inner city with walls for their citizens to live…within the walls of the Old City. The public walkways of the Armenian section are filled with reminders of the Genocide in 1915.

I fell in love with the absolute over the top decorations of the church and feel of the Armenian quarter, and James and I were starving. So we forced Jaime to eat in the first restaurant we saw. It was downstairs, serving Armenian dishes, with wonderful handcrafted jewelry in cases all around us. Jaime did not look happy. He wanted us to eat hummus at his recommended location. We couldn’t eat hummus again nor walk another inch for the garbanzo bean dish. Armenian food is similar to your average Middle Eastern dishes, with lots of meat choices. I had some Armenian Pizza with a bunch of little nibblets to scoop up in my super thin crust with just tomato bits. James had some goulash thing with meatballs and greens, it was tasty. Jaime had plain broth soup with a dumpling like side dish made of ground beef in breading. I wanted all the gaudy jewelry that surrounded us and the mini-swords or huge knives decorated with jewels. I resisted, cause there was no need for $180 bracelets…right? Did I fuck up here?

Anyway, we were satiated and ready for more learning. We walked down the outdoor shops, but with Jaime there is no time for shopping. I felt like we were in Oblivion passing some mid-evil citizens as they sperm through the crowds getting to their next egg. The walkways were straight and long, the owners were yelling at you to buy, and we could have been lost for hours, but Jaime wanted us to continue on with the tour!

Mind you, it’s the end of Ramadan and the Arabs are closing their shops to prep for their festivities. And the many sects are getting ready for prayer. We happened to arrive at the Holy Sepulchre right on time.

We spent at least 2 hours in the Holy Sepulchre. Without going into much detail, I will give you the bullet points of what you can see/touch/feel in this building:

Climb up the stairs built on top of the walk Jesus Christ took with his cross
View or pray at all 13 stations of Jesus’ steps of being crucified
Processions of various Christian sects praying to and for Jesus Christ
Touch the stone where Jesus’ dead body laid in preparation for burial
View all the mosaics, paintings, and carvings of the varied crucifixion scenes
Enter the burial building of Jesus Christ, the Edicule
See a piece of the stone of which the apparition of an angel sat to tell all that Jesus has risen
Enter the burial cave of Jesus and the location of his ascension
Touch the stone that covered his tomb
Touch the Naval of the Earth – this is a Jewish belief – I have a funny story about this below
See old tombs from days of Christ
See the location of where 3 crosses were found and all said to be the crosses when Jesus was hung, 2 for thieves and 1 for you-know-who.
View behind glass the blood of Christ spilt on the rocks and remains to this day
View behind another much bigger glass of the huge cracks in the rocks from whence the lord was angered because of the hanging of Jesus Christ!
See and Touch the black resin from the fire that instantly sparked on the pillar at the entry of the Holy Sepulchre
And much, much, more… including but not limited to architectural history and divisions of sections due to battles of pieces of the Church

Did you know that the key to the doors of the Holy Sepulchre is owned by an Arabian family? They are the only persons that can open and lock the doors, and do so daily.

Oh, my funny story, I nearly forgot to tell you. So, as you know Jaime owns Jerusalem and there is no reason for him to follow any burdensome rules of respect and religious authority. To make us Americans look ever so American, Jaime talked while processions prayed next to us. Then he took us into a roped off area just opposite the doors to the Edicule, where he can talk to us more and makes me feel uber uncomfortable. The comfort level was lost because a procession came down from the crucifixion location to pray to the Edicule and then turn and pray to the room where we were “learning”. Damn Americans! I’m partly about to puke and partly listening to Jaime when he says, “…And here that black stone wrapped around in Jerusalem Brick, that there is the Naval of the Earth… touch it, go ahead.” Um…OK. My hand swelled up the rest of the day and blood oozed out of my fingertips…or at least it felt like it did.

Leaving the Sepulchre was a relief, we can now see more of the Old City…2 quarters done, 2 more to go, and about 6 hours have passed. Off to the Jewish Quarter and the Western (Wailing) Wall. But now that the sun has set, it is Shabbat, and there are some very strict rules for the Wall.

Rule 1: To put a wish in the wall, you must have written the wish prior to Shabbat.

Rule 2: No video or pictures during Shabbat.

Rule 3: No women allowed in the synagogue next to the Wall during Shabbat

James and I broke Rule 1, James broke Rule 2, and I wasn’t about to enter a synagogue anyway.

My wish was for everyone worldwide: PEACE AND LOVE FOR ALL

Apparently, that won’t come true since I broke Rule 1.

The Wailing Wall isn’t as intense as I thought it would be; I didn’t see any crying, but the Orthodox Jews on the male side (yes, male side. The men get 2/3rds of the wall to pray to and ladies the rest.) they were singing with bibles in one hand and the other hand raised in the air as they jumped up and down.

It was time to go home, absorb all this new information and sleep off my ever-present hangover. The day felt like work, and I needed a rest because tomorrow involves climbing a mountain…The Massada.