after all we've said and done, one and one still is one.

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dateline: oZnet

25 september 1996 8:28 p.m.

'Twas a day of many omens. What they may portend and what fortune may befall me in the coming days I do not know. But lo, a voice somewhere says unto me: "Be afraid. Be very afraid." There's going to be a "Blood Moon" tomorrow (what we get while everyone on the Mainland enjoys a lunar eclipse), the night before I'm going to meet Derek's parents for the first time. Not one, but three black cats crossed my path on my way to lunch. I always see them by the campus bookstore, and they never act weird, but today it was like they were waiting for me just to dart across the sidewalk while I watched. The Bayside Bunglers (or whoever) and "Los Del Rios" -- the very vermin responsible for the scourge of the decade (i.e. the "Muckyerbrainup") -- are coming to play in Hawai`i. A plague of idiocy will with them come. My car stopped smelling like antifreeze today, and started smelling like oil. As if the inaugural product wasn't nauseating enough, McDonalds is saying they're going to introduce a whole new line of hamburgers modeled after their disgusting (and mysteriously swift-selling) Retch Deluxe sandwich. Actually, it wasn't a really bad day, but it was just peppered with little niggling (?) things that made me roll my eyes and think, "what next?" Good old Fate was kind enough to answer that question pretty promptly each time. So, about Friday night. No one has actually ever sat down and explained to me exactly what it means when you're introduced to a new beau's 'rents, but I know the common reaction from friends is rarely, "Hey, hot dog!" I can't say why, but it's freaking me out. It's nothing ceremonial or important, actually... Derek's whole family just makes it a point to eat out together every month, and my invitation was actually brought on by my asking what he was up to that particular Friday (I wanted to see "Basquiat"). It was just thrown out casually, and I casually accepted, and only long after I went to bed last night did an inexplicable sense of dread well up inside me. Then I couldn't sleep. (On the plus side, I finally did the dishes.) I figure I should be just another girl friend -- as opposed to "girlfriend" -- joining them for some food and bad jokes (I've been warned). Since apparently they all don't sit down together very often, there should be enough for them to catch up on between them while I just sit to the side, pick at a salad and smile. Yet, part of me is terrified that suddenly everyone'll run out of things to say, turn to me and start The Interrogation. It always starts out easy. "Where'd you graduate from?" Or, "Have you lived in Hawai`i your whole life?" (and of course, "Gee, you don't talk like a local girl!") But then, they run out of small talk, and pretend to be really interested... by getting mean. "When do you graduate?" Or, "So, have you thought about what you want to do after college?" Or, "Have you met Derek's girlfriend?" (Well, I hope not, but it has happened before...) I guess it's a little egotistical to think they'd be interested in me, but on the other hand whenever I'm sitting where they are -- as hosts -- I have the common habit of latching on to a newcomer and asking them any question that comes to mind... even stupid ones. ("So," I said once, halfway through a meal, "you've decided to... um... join us for a meal then?") Funny how I hate to be the target of the same aggressive hospitality I dole out myself. I mean, I can only hope that's what it is. It's probably just as likely that they're sizing up my worthiness to associate -- on any level -- with their precious son. Derek was kind enough to warn me that mommy dearest has a propensity for that kind of "conversation." The best defense, of course, is a good offense. I've got a study sheet in my head. Mom's a head nurse at Straub, dad's a CPA. Golf and bowling fanatics. Recently took a vacation in Germany. They're looking to get a purebreed dog... I know. I'm being ridiculous. And the names keep rolling in: Joan Chen (let's just say everyone in "The Joy Luck Club"), Amy Tan (natch), Tia Carerre (well...), Hideo Nomo (fair enough), Michael Chang (yum!), Miki Berenyi (of "Lush" -- definitely) and The Yellow Ranger (before they wrote her out). Except for Gen, I think I'm the only woman on Earth who likes "Weird Al Yankovic." Between the two of us, we own just about every album he's made. I was driving home tonight when they played his "Alternative Polka" on Radio Free. I'd heard bits of it on "Al TV" the other night, but not all the way through. It was hilarious! The accordionated medley had "Black Hole Sun," NIN's "Closer," Sheryl Crow... Essentially MTV's high rotation about two months ago (embarassingly, I own most of those albums). There I was, tearing down Kalakaua, laughing out loud, when this old guy pulled up at a red light and looked at me like I'd just escaped from an institution. In the spirit of Al's singular talent, I thought it'd be cool to write a parody of Crow's "All I Wanna Do." I came up with a chorus while circling for parking that could change the song to be about Hawai`i: "All I wanna do is have some fun -- I got a feeling I'm not the only one -- After the sun goes down over Ala Moana Boulevard..."