The Eggroll Whisperer

WARNING: The following article may offend you if you don’t think that Japanese tourists are funny.

There…I think that covers it.

***************

If you’re Japanese, you cannot keep a secret.

I’m assuming this because I discovered that ASIAN TOURISTS CAN’T WHISPER.

Really.

WTF?!

I have come to this conclusion after being on several rides during my Disney vacation…

…where I was also accompanied by large hordes of Japanese tourists.

Japanese tourists apparently hunt in packs of 30.

I’m not sure why.

I’m guessing it has something to do with the mantra for “strength in numbers” after all the Godzilla incidents.

But I digress…

Some of the rides you go on in these parks are “simulation” rides.

This means that you pay $70 per person to get into the f*cking park…

…and you get in a ride that goes absolutely NOWHERE.

Really…

If I wanted to pay a lot of money to go nowhere, I’d just go back to college and major in Liberal Arts.

Anyway…

One of these rides we went on was called “Wild Arctic” at SeaWorld.

SeaWorld’s motto: “Your hands WILL smell like fish.”

(coincidentally, this is also the motto of my second high school girlfriend)

But I digress…

So, as we are marched into this ride, we are told to stand in rows on a lit “dot.”

Simple instructions:

1) One person per dot.
2) Eight people per row.

In the row behind me, is the Japanese contingent…

…standing in a clump of 15…

…all of them standing in between the dots.

Ride Guy: “One person per dot, please.”

Japanese guy:

*blink*

Japanese woman looks down the row at the Japanese guy and says:

“Ping dong waoooooooong ding ling.”

Japanese guy nods…indicating that he understands.

Japanese guy then grabs four children…

…and makes them all try to stand on the same one dot.

(Ride guy shakes his head in disgust)

Ride guy: “Please move down, and stand on a lighted dot…one person per dot.”

(Japanese guy dropkicks ride-guy in the throat)

Sorry..sorry…that’s what happened in my head.

(which would have been WAY cool)

Since the Japanese guy is not understanding this AT ALL (nor his family), the ride guy physically grabs them and MOVES them to their respective dots.

At this point, I’m considering trading in my Honda and getting a domestic car.

Seriously…

…everyone else in the room is standing on a SINGLE F*CKING DOT…

…and you can’t deduce this yourselves?!

How am I supposed to feel safe on the road when you can’t figure out how to stand on a goddamn dot?!

Anyway…

The ride is a helicopter simulation.

Awesome.

I love flying SO much.

And, of course, the entire room is moving and shaking violently during the ride…

…and my head is bobbing all over the place…

…like Paris Hilton on a first date.

My head is bobbing wildly because my hands are not holding onto my armrests…

…because they’re busy trying to stop my four year old son’s head from disconnecting at the base of his skull.

Ah…

This vacation is truly magical.

Making this even more fun, is the constant barrage of Japanese from behind me:

Ride Narrator: “Well…it looks like we’ve spotted some…”

Japanese people behind me:

“SIIIING WOOOONG DING WING FLING FLANG!!”

“GAWONG NIIIING SONY GOJIRA!!”

“HITACHI SAMSUNG HYUNDAI!!!!”

Not only does the actual language sound like bullets shot from several guns simultaneously in an all-metal room (PING DING DWAAAANG!!)…

…but the volume of their talking was only slightly lower than the last Judas Priest concert I attended.

How excellent this is.

Narrator: “…now it looks like we’re just coming up on some..”

“GAJOONG MITSUBISHI BILLABONG!!”

Narrator: “..and a polar bear cub is about to…”

“CALIFORNIA ROLL!!”

“DOMO ARIGATO, MR. ROBOTO!!!”

Narrator: “..and another remarkable fact is…”

“KWAAANG BWAAAAN DING!!!”

Motherf*cker.

Seriously, grasshopper…

SHUT.

THE F*CK.

UP.

Or…as an alternative:

JUST DON’T F*CKING YELL.

It’s not that I desperately need to actually HEAR what’s going on…

It’s just that ALL I CAN HEAR IS YOU.

I’m trying to read my son’s lips, as I can’t hear him over the screaming Asian tourists behind me.

(I believe at one point he mouthed, “Help me,” but I’ll never know)

I tried to turn and give them my patented “death stare” (also applicable in movie theaters), but was prevented by two things:

1) My head wasn’t higher than the top of my seat (but man, I would have given the cushion a wicked look)

2) I had several skull fractures and a small concussion from the F*CKING SHAKING OF THE RIDE.

I believe that the latter has left me slightly brain damaged.

Feet are good yellow elephants!

Anyway…

On the bright side, my son’s skull did not detach from his spine.

Also, I learned this valuable lesson:

Never tell a secret to a Japanese person…

…unless it’s a lie about your gigantic penis and sexual prowess in a room full of Victoria Secret models who understand Japanese.

I’d definitely pay $70 for THAT simulation ride.

http://www.midgetmanofsteel.com

The Eggroll Whisperer

WARNING: The following article may offend you if you don’t think that Japanese tourists are funny.

There…I think that covers it.

***************

If you’re Japanese, you cannot keep a secret.

I’m assuming this because I discovered that ASIAN TOURISTS CAN’T WHISPER.

Really.

WTF?!

I have come to this conclusion after being on several rides during my Disney vacation…

…where I was also accompanied by large hordes of Japanese tourists.

Japanese tourists apparently hunt in packs of 30.

I’m not sure why.

I’m guessing it has something to do with the mantra for “strength in numbers” after all the Godzilla incidents.

But I digress…

Some of the rides you go on in these parks are “simulation” rides.

This means that you pay $70 per person to get into the f*cking park…

…and you get in a ride that goes absolutely NOWHERE.

Really…

If I wanted to pay a lot of money to go nowhere, I’d just go back to college and major in Liberal Arts.

Anyway…

One of these rides we went on was called “Wild Arctic” at SeaWorld.

SeaWorld’s motto: “Your hands WILL smell like fish.”

(coincidentally, this is also the motto of my second high school girlfriend)

But I digress…

So, as we are marched into this ride, we are told to stand in rows on a lit “dot.”

Simple instructions:

1) One person per dot.
2) Eight people per row.

In the row behind me, is the Japanese contingent…

…standing in a clump of 15…

…all of them standing in between the dots.

Ride Guy: “One person per dot, please.”

Japanese guy:

*blink*

Japanese woman looks down the row at the Japanese guy and says:

“Ping dong waoooooooong ding ling.”

Japanese guy nods…indicating that he understands.

Japanese guy then grabs four children…

…and makes them all try to stand on the same one dot.

(Ride guy shakes his head in disgust)

Ride guy: “Please move down, and stand on a lighted dot…one person per dot.”

(Japanese guy dropkicks ride-guy in the throat)

Sorry..sorry…that’s what happened in my head.

(which would have been WAY cool)

Since the Japanese guy is not understanding this AT ALL (nor his family), the ride guy physically grabs them and MOVES them to their respective dots.

At this point, I’m considering trading in my Honda and getting a domestic car.

Seriously…

…everyone else in the room is standing on a SINGLE F*CKING DOT…

…and you can’t deduce this yourselves?!

How am I supposed to feel safe on the road when you can’t figure out how to stand on a goddamn dot?!

Anyway…

The ride is a helicopter simulation.

Awesome.

I love flying SO much.

And, of course, the entire room is moving and shaking violently during the ride…

…and my head is bobbing all over the place…

…like Paris Hilton on a first date.

My head is bobbing wildly because my hands are not holding onto my armrests…

…because they’re busy trying to stop my four year old son’s head from disconnecting at the base of his skull.

Ah…

This vacation is truly magical.

Making this even more fun, is the constant barrage of Japanese from behind me:

Ride Narrator: “Well…it looks like we’ve spotted some…”

Japanese people behind me:

“SIIIING WOOOONG DING WING FLING FLANG!!”

“GAWONG NIIIING SONY GOJIRA!!”

“HITACHI SAMSUNG HYUNDAI!!!!”

Not only does the actual language sound like bullets shot from several guns simultaneously in an all-metal room (PING DING DWAAAANG!!)…

…but the volume of their talking was only slightly lower than the last Judas Priest concert I attended.

How excellent this is.

Narrator: “…now it looks like we’re just coming up on some..”

“GAJOONG MITSUBISHI BILLABONG!!”

Narrator: “..and a polar bear cub is about to…”

“CALIFORNIA ROLL!!”

“DOMO ARIGATO, MR. ROBOTO!!!”

Narrator: “..and another remarkable fact is…”

“KWAAANG BWAAAAN DING!!!”

Motherf*cker.

Seriously, grasshopper…

SHUT.

THE F*CK.

UP.

Or…as an alternative:

JUST DON’T F*CKING YELL.

It’s not that I desperately need to actually HEAR what’s going on…

It’s just that ALL I CAN HEAR IS YOU.

I’m trying to read my son’s lips, as I can’t hear him over the screaming Asian tourists behind me.

(I believe at one point he mouthed, “Help me,” but I’ll never know)

I tried to turn and give them my patented “death stare” (also applicable in movie theaters), but was prevented by two things:

1) My head wasn’t higher than the top of my seat (but man, I would have given the cushion a wicked look)

2) I had several skull fractures and a small concussion from the F*CKING SHAKING OF THE RIDE.

I believe that the latter has left me slightly brain damaged.

Feet are good yellow elephants!

Anyway…

On the bright side, my son’s skull did not detach from his spine.

Also, I learned this valuable lesson:

Never tell a secret to a Japanese person…

…unless it’s a lie about your gigantic penis and sexual prowess in a room full of Victoria Secret models who understand Japanese.

I’d definitely pay $70 for THAT simulation ride.

http://midgetmanofsteel.blogspot.com

The Eggroll Whisperer

WARNING: The following article may offend you if you don’t think that Japanese tourists are funny.

There…I think that covers it.

***************

If you’re Japanese, you cannot keep a secret.

I’m assuming this because I discovered that ASIAN TOURISTS CAN’T WHISPER.

Really.

WTF?!

I have come to this conclusion after being on several rides during my Disney vacation…

…where I was also accompanied by large hordes of Japanese tourists.

Japanese tourists apparently hunt in packs of 30.

I’m not sure why.

I’m guessing it has something to do with the mantra for “strength in numbers” after all the Godzilla incidents.

But I digress…

Some of the rides you go on in these parks are “simulation” rides.

This means that you pay $70 per person to get into the f*cking park…

…and you get in a ride that goes absolutely NOWHERE.

Really…

If I wanted to pay a lot of money to go nowhere, I’d just go back to college and major in Liberal Arts.

Anyway…

One of these rides we went on was called “Wild Arctic” at SeaWorld.

SeaWorld’s motto: “Your hands WILL smell like fish.”

(coincidentally, this is also the motto of my second high school girlfriend)

But I digress…

So, as we are marched into this ride, we are told to stand in rows on a lit “dot.”

Simple instructions:

1) One person per dot.
2) Eight people per row.

In the row behind me, is the Japanese contingent…

…standing in a clump of 15…

…all of them standing in between the dots.

Ride Guy: “One person per dot, please.”

Japanese guy:

*blink*

Japanese woman looks down the row at the Japanese guy and says:

“Ping dong waoooooooong ding ling.”

Japanese guy nods…indicating that he understands.

Japanese guy then grabs four children…

…and makes them all try to stand on the same one dot.

(Ride guy shakes his head in disgust)

Ride guy: “Please move down, and stand on a lighted dot…one person per dot.”

(Japanese guy dropkicks ride-guy in the throat)

Sorry..sorry…that’s what happened in my head.

(which would have been WAY cool)

Since the Japanese guy is not understanding this AT ALL (nor his family), the ride guy physically grabs them and MOVES them to their respective dots.

At this point, I’m considering trading in my Honda and getting a domestic car.

Seriously…

…everyone else in the room is standing on a SINGLE F*CKING DOT…

…and you can’t deduce this yourselves?!

How am I supposed to feel safe on the road when you can’t figure out how to stand on a goddamn dot?!

Anyway…

The ride is a helicopter simulation.

Awesome.

I love flying SO much.

And, of course, the entire room is moving and shaking violently during the ride…

…and my head is bobbing all over the place…

…like Paris Hilton on a first date.

My head is bobbing wildly because my hands are not holding onto my armrests…

…because they’re busy trying to stop my four year old son’s head from disconnecting at the base of his skull.

Ah…

This vacation is truly magical.

Making this even more fun, is the constant barrage of Japanese from behind me:

Ride Narrator: “Well…it looks like we’ve spotted some…”

Japanese people behind me:

“SIIIING WOOOONG DING WING FLING FLANG!!”

“GAWONG NIIIING SONY GOJIRA!!”

“HITACHI SAMSUNG HYUNDAI!!!!”

Not only does the actual language sound like bullets shot from several guns simultaneously in an all-metal room (PING DING DWAAAANG!!)…

…but the volume of their talking was only slightly lower than the last Judas Priest concert I attended.

How excellent this is.

Narrator: “…now it looks like we’re just coming up on some..”

“GAJOONG MITSUBISHI BILLABONG!!”

Narrator: “..and a polar bear cub is about to…”

“CALIFORNIA ROLL!!”

“DOMO ARIGATO, MR. ROBOTO!!!”

Narrator: “..and another remarkable fact is…”

“KWAAANG BWAAAAN DING!!!”

Motherf*cker.

Seriously, grasshopper…

SHUT.

THE F*CK.

UP.

Or…as an alternative:

JUST DON’T F*CKING YELL.

It’s not that I desperately need to actually HEAR what’s going on…

It’s just that ALL I CAN HEAR IS YOU.

I’m trying to read my son’s lips, as I can’t hear him over the screaming Asian tourists behind me.

(I believe at one point he mouthed, “Help me,” but I’ll never know)

I tried to turn and give them my patented “death stare” (also applicable in movie theaters), but was prevented by two things:

1) My head wasn’t higher than the top of my seat (but man, I would have given the cushion a wicked look)

2) I had several skull fractures and a small concussion from the F*CKING SHAKING OF THE RIDE.

I believe that the latter has left me slightly brain damaged.

Feet are good yellow elephants!

Anyway…

On the bright side, my son’s skull did not detach from his spine.

Also, I learned this valuable lesson:

Never tell a secret to a Japanese person…

…unless it’s a lie about your gigantic penis and sexual prowess in a room full of Victoria Secret models who understand Japanese.

I’d definitely pay $70 for THAT simulation ride.

http://midgetmanofsteel.blogspot.com

Route 192 Makes a Mean Rocky Road

We could have just went to Chuck E. Cheese and saved the money.

Really.

We just got back from our week-long jaunt to Florida…

(state motto: “You WILL drive like sh*t”)

…and the associated theme parks:

1) Disney
2) Universal
3) SeaWorld
4) Michael Jackson’s Anal Exploration Park

(there is a maximum height limit to this last park…luckily, I made it)

When recently asking my kids what was the best part of the trip, they said this:

Daughter: “The pool at the house.”

Son: “The pirate ship.”

You little sh*ts.

The pool.

The pirate ship.

Not Disney…

…not Universal…

…not feeding the dolphins…

…not becoming a trained Jedi…

…not even breakfast at f*cking Cracker Barrel…

Just the pool and a pirate ship.

When my son says, “pirate ship,” he’s actually referring to a ship at SeaWorld that is, in fact, a f*cking playground.

…just like at Chuck E. Cheese.

Sometimes, I just prefer animal crackers to having children.

Anyway….

I’ll break my experience up into a couple of blog entries…just so you’re not overwhelmed in my joy.

Here goes:

The House of Blah:

First off, let me tell you that we rented a house in Florida.

Being an architect in Florida has to be one of the easiest goddamn jobs in the planet…

(besides being the security guard at the amusement park…which has an “intelligence and eyesight optional” policy).

Anyway…

A house in Florida has one of three designs…

…and is either the color peach or beige.

Stunning.

It’s like looking at a giant wall of ass.

Anyway…

Every house looks the same, and each house is approximately 5 feet away from the next house…

This distance includes the back yard…

…where your neighbor is gleefully sitting on your patio enjoying your oranges.

I believe this is why my house came with a free taser.

Anyway…

It’s hard to tell the houses apart in Florida.

So much so, in fact, that one day I brought the trash to the end of the driveway…

…turned around…

…and walked back into someone else’s house.

(On a related note, the charge for “breaking and entering” in Florida only carries a fine for first offense…I also found out that the Sheriff’s office takes the Discover card).

I also happened to walk out of the shower one afternoon…

…where my wife was in the same bathroom getting ready.

The door on the back of the house, that entered the bathroom (not sure why) was wide open…

…as my wife wanted to clear the steam from the room.

I was standing there, naked…staring out the back door.

Me: “Um…is that the back door to the house you have open?”

Wife: “Yeah, why?”

Me: “You realize that is open to our backyard, right?”

Wife: “Yeah?”

Me: “Do you realize that there are houses RIGHT THERE?”

Wife (squinting in the darkness at the house 15 feet away, with a fat lady in the pool staring at me): “Oh…look at that.”

Me: “I’ll go put on a towel.”

(I hear a chorus of “boo’s” echoing from the other houses).

Ugh.

Anyway….

Our house didn’t have a key – it had a combination lock on the door.

Of course, on our very first night back to the house, not ONLY do we forget to put a light on outside…

…but we also forget the f*cking combination to the lock.

This required me to park my car in the road, facing the house with the lights on high beam, and yell out random combinations of numbers.

This does not help.

Ten minutes into the adventure, it comes to me:

Me: “Wait a minute…are we even AT the right house?”

Word to Florida builders: USE A DIFFERENT F*CKING COLOR.

Thank you, jackasses.

The Garmin with Short-Term Memory Loss:

My father-in-law brought along his Garmin Navigation unit.

This came in as useful as asking a double-amputee prostitute for a hand job.

(don’t do this…she’ll just take your money then try to use her feet…which is satisfying, but your penis ends up smelling funnier than usual)

The very first time we used the Garmin to get somewhere, it drove us to a dead-end street and thought our destination was the dumpster sitting at the end.

Thanks, Garmin.

Knowing the location of this dumpster will be helpful when it comes time to throw you in the f*cking thing.

The second time we used it to get to a Walmart (yes, even alligators need to buy cheap clothes), it drove us to a residential development.

Me: “MORE BEIGE HOUSES?!?!”

Father-in-law: “I don’t think there’s a Walmart in here.”

Me: “Maybe it thought we were looking for a guy named Wally Mart.”

The third time we used it to get to an ice-cream place, it proudly announced:

“Arriving at your destination.”

I was under a highway overpass at the time.

I looked for a guy selling ice cream under the bridge…

…but there was none.

Thank you, Garmin.

I didn’t really want ice cream, anyway…

…and was really more in the mood for an offramp.

Now…let’s see…

…where was that dumpster again?
*****************

Dont’ forget to check me out at Scrivel!

http://www.midgetmanofsteel.com

Route 192 Makes a Mean Rocky Road

We could have just went to Chuck E. Cheese and saved the money.

Really.

We just got back from our week-long jaunt to Florida…

(state motto: “You WILL drive like sh*t”)

…and the associated theme parks:

1) Disney
2) Universal
3) SeaWorld
4) Michael Jackson’s Anal Exploration Park

(there is a maximum height limit to this last park…luckily, I made it)

When recently asking my kids what was the best part of the trip, they said this:

Daughter: “The pool at the house.”

Son: “The pirate ship.”

You little sh*ts.

The pool.

The pirate ship.

Not Disney…

…not Universal…

…not feeding the dolphins…

…not becoming a trained Jedi…

…not even breakfast at f*cking Cracker Barrel…

Just the pool and a pirate ship.

When my son says, “pirate ship,” he’s actually referring to a ship at SeaWorld that is, in fact, a f*cking playground.

…just like at Chuck E. Cheese.

Sometimes, I just prefer animal crackers to having children.

Anyway….

I’ll break my experience up into a couple of blog entries…just so you’re not overwhelmed in my joy.

Here goes:

The House of Blah:

First off, let me tell you that we rented a house in Florida.

Being an architect in Florida has to be one of the easiest goddamn jobs in the planet…

(besides being the security guard at the amusement park…which has an “intelligence and eyesight optional” policy).

Anyway…

A house in Florida has one of three designs…

…and is either the color peach or beige.

Stunning.

It’s like looking at a giant wall of ass.

Anyway…

Every house looks the same, and each house is approximately 5 feet away from the next house…

This distance includes the back yard…

…where your neighbor is gleefully sitting on your patio enjoying your oranges.

I believe this is why my house came with a free taser.

Anyway…

It’s hard to tell the houses apart in Florida.

So much so, in fact, that one day I brought the trash to the end of the driveway…

…turned around…

…and walked back into someone else’s house.

(On a related note, the charge for “breaking and entering” in Florida only carries a fine for first offense…I also found out that the Sheriff’s office takes the Discover card).

I also happened to walk out of the shower one afternoon…

…where my wife was in the same bathroom getting ready.

The door on the back of the house, that entered the bathroom (not sure why) was wide open…

…as my wife wanted to clear the steam from the room.

I was standing there, naked…staring out the back door.

Me: “Um…is that the back door to the house you have open?”

Wife: “Yeah, why?”

Me: “You realize that is open to our backyard, right?”

Wife: “Yeah?”

Me: “Do you realize that there are houses RIGHT THERE?”

Wife (squinting in the darkness at the house 15 feet away, with a fat lady in the pool staring at me): “Oh…look at that.”

Me: “I’ll go put on a towel.”

(I hear a chorus of “boo’s” echoing from the other houses).

Ugh.

Anyway….

Our house didn’t have a key – it had a combination lock on the door.

Of course, on our very first night back to the house, not ONLY do we forget to put a light on outside…

…but we also forget the f*cking combination to the lock.

This required me to park my car in the road, facing the house with the lights on high beam, and yell out random combinations of numbers.

This does not help.

Ten minutes into the adventure, it comes to me:

Me: “Wait a minute…are we even AT the right house?”

Word to Florida builders: USE A DIFFERENT F*CKING COLOR.

Thank you, jackasses.

The Garmin with Short-Term Memory Loss:

My father-in-law brought along his Garmin Navigation unit.

This came in as useful as asking a double-amputee prostitute for a hand job.

(don’t do this…she’ll just take your money then try to use her feet…which is satisfying, but your penis ends up smelling funnier than usual)

The very first time we used the Garmin to get somewhere, it drove us to a dead-end street and thought our destination was the dumpster sitting at the end.

Thanks, Garmin.

Knowing the location of this dumpster will be helpful when it comes time to throw you in the f*cking thing.

The second time we used it to get to a Walmart (yes, even alligators need to buy cheap clothes), it drove us to a residential development.

Me: “MORE BEIGE HOUSES?!?!”

Father-in-law: “I don’t think there’s a Walmart in here.”

Me: “Maybe it thought we were looking for a guy named Wally Mart.”

The third time we used it to get to an ice-cream place, it proudly announced:

“Arriving at your destination.”

I was under a highway overpass at the time.

I looked for a guy selling ice cream under the bridge…

…but there was none.

Thank you, Garmin.

I didn’t really want ice cream, anyway…

…and was really more in the mood for an offramp.

Now…let’s see…

…where was that dumpster again?
*****************

Dont’ forget to check me out at Scrivel!

http://midgetmanofsteel.blogspot.com