Dee-Rob

I’m back at work, back at home, back in the U.S. and just plain old back. It’s nice to be back, and I’m hoping after about seven days of sleeping normally, I might even feel back to my old self again.

Meanwhile, I’ve started going through a half a million pictures of Uganda. I took tons. Some of the cream of animal depictions can be found here:

Animals in Uganda.

There will be many more to come, along with a lot of verbiage I suppose. For the short term, though, I plan to try to shake what is probably an ordinary head cold, but I imagine to be a rare tropical illness.

After a week (or a tad less) back at work, and some much needed sleep, we’re almost back into our routine (i.e. boring) lives. Thank god.

The fun thing back at work was due to a leave that meant I hadn’t seen my boss since before Christmas, and left on vacation right before we would see each other again, a few official things were a tad delayed in our office. Among them was the official word on annual salaries. Right when I came back, voila, letter about my salary. It was good news all around and a bit surprising. (Well, not that surprising, since for a full year there’s been convos about how the work I was doing didn’t quite match the cash, since the position I was hired to had once been filled by someone half my age with no prior experience.)

Of course, because of past experiences with my so-called real jobs, I’m in a bit of neurotic zone. If past performance is an indicator of future success, then I have a couple more years of impressing the powers that be and taking on more responsibility so my value and earnings increase. Then, I will flame out in an amazing blaze of glory. I wonder how it will be this time.

On the political front, now that I am back in the U.S. of A., I’m in awe of how truly fucked up the Bill and Hill show has become. They were the ones with the campaign chops, the machine, the ultimate strategies. Now it’s a bit sad. Like a prize fighter staying in the ring that one last fight past his prime. Or some other hackneyed metaphor.

Once Obama seemed like the unlikely young also ran, now it seems like his game to lose. My feminist side does weep that Hillary was the best we could do at this historic moment.

Meanwhile, is anyone fucking surprised that McCain is cozy with lobbyists. I don’t believe the grumpy, old man nailed Vicki Iseman, mostly because she doesn’t look the sort who wants to wake up and wash the old man smell off herself.

What amazes me is the McCain hubris. Other politicians according to his world run the risk of being tainted with their associations with fundraisers, corporations, lobbyists and whatnot. But, not John, nope he’s impervious Apparently, all other pols are weak-willed and susceptible, but he has integrity.

I mean obviously, anyone who learned such a lesson in corruption by helping to fuck up the savings and loan industry would now be a pillar among men, right? Someone like that would never again associate with questionable characters and appear to peddle his influence. Oh wait, he would, but he’d no better and his new lobbying friends are the good guys.

Other than that, same old, same old, and I’m happy to be back in it. I also have photos up here: http://gallery.mac.com/dee_rob and here: http://dee-rob.com/zenphoto for different viewing experiences (and so as not to direct co-workers who asked for pics to this particular site of web ignominy).

M. particularly likes these shots.

I can’t believe that his aunt asked if I wanted “black jelly,” and I said yes.

M. and I drove around the island of Penang a bit.

We went to the Penang Butterfly Farm, which had an awesome brochure that was clearly translated from another language into English. Apparently, it’s the world’s first butterfly farm, and the brochure indicated that it was built in the ’80s and “you can imagine how long ago that was.” Yes, yes, I can, oh lost youth.

Coolest part of the butterfly farm was the non-butterfly exhibits, like the insects that camouflage by looking like something else, the scorpion pit and the various meat-eating plants.

We all went to the Penang’s forestry park, which may be the world’s smallest. (They love the superlative tags in this part of the world — first, largest, smallest, tallest.) M. gloried in sun creeping through the jungle, but the monkey count was still low. That is, it was non-existent.

On the drive back by Batu Ferringhi we were rewarded. On a side street off the road, a fine Samaritan was tossing bread into the trees. Suddenly, there was a frenzy of monkey dining!

M. parked the car, and we took a million or so photos. OK, maybe it was a hundred or so. Here’s the thing, though. If you ever find yourself in a monkey-living part of the world, the locals find it pretty stupid if you take that many pictures. I guess it’s kind of like someone coming to my neck of the woods and showing me dozens of squirrel pictures.

In fact, one of M.’s cousins told me how there are extra heavy screens in some parts of Singapore to keep monkeys from reaching their hands into the kitchen window and feasting. I mean how cool would a monkey hand reaching through your
window be? Screens. Bah, I say.

Squirrels don’t have little human faces.

More monkey pics here. A few other pics here.

This morning brought a revelation — WiFi is available poolside where the hotel serves breakfast. Cereal, coffee and email. Wonderful stuff, really.

Last night, we were part of a splinter group of relatives. The rebels split off and had Indian food at a local eatery rather than homemade food at the family’s ancestral headquarters. I felt so reckless.

The downside really was that I missed gambling and drinking Tiger beer. Tiger is a fine, fine beer on a blazing hot, tropical night.

Not much else to report right now. No monkeys (yet).

Later, I plan to write far too much about bathrooms. Toilets truly are that which most moves me (no pun intended) when I travel. Here’s a good hint if you ever find yourself driving from Kuala Lumpur to Malaysia — Caravan with the locals who’ve made the drive previously. They know the stops with the cleaner bathrooms and where to get good pomelos.

All citrus fruit should be as big as your head.

Oh, one last thing. Now that we’ve discovered the interwebs at the hotel, I’ve started uploading pics. Unfortunately, they are raw, unedited and un-sized for good web viewing. Here is my first (partial) upload – last day in Singapore (hanging in Chinatown), driving from KL, our arrival in Penang and the reunion dinner with family (ending in karaoke). I think.

Yao Ming is quite tall.

Rather enjoyed four days away from toil. Here’s some pictures to show the festivities:

Weekend of Thanksgiving.

Only other thing I forgot to write about is the ugliness I overheard sort of saw whilst loitering in the Macy’s fragrance department. Shouting voices brought a few curiousity seekers (or nosy parkers) such as myself to crane our necks across purses and cosmetics.

What I ended up seeing was a young woman in a backpack, plaid jacket and pigtails absolutely melting down screaming at a dude with short dreads, whose buddies seemed to be trying to pull him away from her direction. He kept wiggling away and had some retorts of his own before the guys around him gathered him up and away again.

I’m pretty sure the chick was Asian and the dude was African American. Any way you slice it though, you hear one person screaming “nigger” this and that over and fucking over again, punctuated with a “Shut up, bitch,” and it ain’t pretty. Nope, it’s damn ugly.

I ate too much. I also started off ignoring the greatest hits menu and freestyled with the alternatives. Starting with crab claws, chilled shrimp, sushi and dried fruit. Ending with a miniature fruit tart (who doesn’t love a little tart?) topped with a tiny cube of mango, one raspberry and a slice of fresh fig.

Wherever you are in the universe, if you can get a slice of fresh fig, I’d eat it.

The view was fab, and I have some crapola pics below (crappy, thanks to large glass surfaces on black effect also known as reflection and being 36 floors up) and fond, much better focused, memories. Glad there wasn’t an earthquake, followed by the towering inferno.

(And to whoever out there might want to contact me — judging by the behind the scenes clicking — I fixed the fucking form. I am a ‘tard and slow in fixing, but I fucking try, I do, I really do. New and improved contact page.)

Most of all THANKS FOR READING THIS CYBER-SHITE.