as the whole world sleeps, on gold and silver sheets

Howdy. I have returned from Hawaii. I wish I could say that I was relaxed and tan, but I am in fact, neither.

Somehow, I had this dream of returning to the mainland with a tan such that I would be mistaken for a native Samoan. Or at the very least, mistaken for someone who has not taken up permanent residence in a meat locker. To no avail.

It seems that I don't really tan. I burn. And you would think that since a burn fades into a tan, my vanity could be rewarded thusly. But apparently, I burn very unevenly. Like, random patches of burn in various shapes and sizes. The visual effect is akin to an albino who has jumped out of moving boxcar. And that of course progressed into a full torso itch of a severity that I would equate with a biblical plague.

Also, I dedicated myself to saying "howdy" most of the week, just to be obnoxious. Hawaiians are convinced that people on their island[s] should only say "aloha". This word is unacceptable to me. Any word that fully encompasses two distinctly opposite concepts is patently ludicrous. It's like having a single word for dog and cat, earth and sea, Texas and Montana.

Hawaiians are also rude. They have a strange sort of snobbery for their state. Of course, many would say this about Texans, but I don't see it as quite the same thing. You see, Texans understand that our state is the best country on the planet. If you disagree, that's fine - we really don't mind if you're wrong, because we're agreeable like that. With Hawaiians, their sentiment does not so much arise from any perceived superiority of their state, it's just that it is their state, they don't want you there, and you should leave as soon as possible.

I went snorkeling. And, I might add that I was the only person on our snorkeling, um, tour or trip or whatever it was, who did not use a flotation device to assist in the process of partial submersion aquatic viewing. I am a hardcore snorkeler. One might say... an X-Treme Snorkeler. I suppose that mad snorkeling game is yet another benefit of my morbid obesity.

Let's see... what else did I do... Oh! I went on a submarine. That was cool. I felt very much like John Locke. Oh! And when we were in Oahu, I think I saw the place where Desmond killed Kelvin. Oh! And we went to a luau.

I have mixed feelings about the luau. The food was great and the show was great, but I dunno. Any activity that involves watching the gyrations of scantily-clad ladies, regardless of the cultural validity, is just not something you want to do with your parents. And Martha kept asking me to take pictures. Which is awkward. Now I have all these pictures of half-nekked lady-type people that were taken upon the insistence of my mother. It's just awkward all around and it can only end in tears.

All things considered, as much fun was had as could reasonably be expected, and I am very grateful to my parents for letting me tag along. They even let me have the master bedroom at the beach house we rented. This means that I got to sleep in a queen bed all week, and for someone who is 6'9", morbidly obese, and usually sleeps in a twin bed, this was sublime.

That's all I have for now. So... Howdy! See? Same word for hello and good-bye? It's dumb. Seriously, Hawaii. Just stop.