1. I'm pleased that "Million Dollar Baby" won this, that, and the other Oscar award last night. I'm glad that "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" won as well. I'm relieved that "Sideways" won no more than one and kind of annoyed that it even won the one it did (pretentious, irritating flick that it was).

2. This site (stolen from Chan) is pretty amusing: Maniac Muslim.

3. Excerpts from "Modern Muslim Cooking of Indo-Pakistan" by A. Nisa Bhatti, First Edition 1964:

From Furniture:
A clock is essential in modern kitchen. Modern cookers necessitate the observing of cooking time which can only be determined with the help of clock which will increase the cooking efficiency. Modern kitchens are also equipped with radio set as an amusement for the housewife while cooking, and to make the atmosphere of the kitchen more pleasant. There should be a [chair] for housewife to sit easily and do her knitting job or any other such thing along with the supervision of the kitchen.

From Practical Hints:
Try to prepare food with a variety. If you have 1lb. of meat, cook in two or three varieties. Though it involves some extra labour but your family will enjoy the hour spent on the table. The look of the food must be appetising. It is natural that the mouth will water when there is something good looking on the table. The way the food is fixed on the table is also very important. The artistic fixing of food sharpens our desire for that and the more the desire for a foood the more easily it will be digested, of course. Almonds are sometimes bitter in taste. It is better to taste them first by slicing slightly on the side or else it will spoil the whole charm.

From Selection of Foods:
Meat: With the exception of calcium meat contains all the necessary minerals and salts needed by the human body. It is especially good source of phosphorous and iron and contains a small amount of carbohydrates. It is also rich in many of the vitamins so necessary to a normal healthy body. The completeness of meat as a food is rather evident. It is certainly a most honourable tribute to any food product.

I'd post some of the recipes (the pigeon korma looks very interesting), but I have to attend to my knitting job and check on how charming my almonds are right now.

Happy Birthday, H-Biddy! Here's your present. Have a wonderful, beautiful day.

The University of Blogging Presents to baji An Honorary Bachelor of Self Deprication Majoring in Gossip Signed Dr. GoQuiz.com ®

Username:

Blogging Degree
From Go-Quiz.com

ps - comments below to congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Abez and family still open. :)

Congrats, Mabrook, and Mubarak to our favorite literati smack-talking rival, honorary pirate, and template designer extraordinaire Sensai Abez and her new hubby [insert mystery name and his blog] on their wedding! Since she is still keeping it on the semi-Q-T, I can't reveal much, but I do have this exclusive photo of the happy couple:



Best wishes, du'as, and long-distance hugs!
xoxo, Blogistan

Pandi's 'Pinions

Fear and Trembling is the newest in a line of funny, dark, and twisted "boss-from-hell" movies such as 9 to 5, Office Space, and especially Swimming with Sharks. It is edgier and yet more delicate than the first two, but gentler and more whimsical than Swimming with Sharks. The movie traces the career swan dive of an eager and well-meaning Belgian woman who is hired as a translator in a large Japanese corporation. Caught in cultural misunderstandings, suffering at the merciless and mercurial hands of her superiors, and becoming a victim of plain old bad luck, she uses her humor, imagination, and cleverness to lose face in order to save face. One French panda thumb up and one Japanese panda thumb up = two English subtitle panda thumbs up!

Guest Post Series: My Grandfather

(post published here (a) unbeknownst to him,

(b) via an e-mail to me, and

(c) because I'm just THAT lazy.)

The night of the 15th/16th created a historical chaos in northern Pakistan. Somebody released a rumour that a tsunami-type earthquake was going to hit us! Mosque loudspeakers blared, summoning the faithful to pray for forgiveness, grab Baby and run. Where to? Never mind, just run! Soon the Grand Trunk Road was jammed with anything on wheels, including cars, trucks, bicycles, and even wheel-chairs! Northerners were fleeing south, southerners north, creating a royal traffic chaos. Traffic cops were among those running helter-skelter.

"Yajooj Majooj aa gaye!" (Gog and Magog have come!) screamed many.

Our phone rang in the wee hours of the morning: "Auntie, we are sitting wrapped in quilts in the open outside our hostel."

Had the administration launched an instantaneous refutation of the rumour, the chaos might have been prevented, since earthquakes cannot be predicted even with the most sophisticated seismographic knowhow available.

PANDI'S 'PINIONS

Book Review:
Fray - Two bamboo slayer thumbs up. Joss Whedon's graphic novel picks up where "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" left off, give or take a hundred years.

The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist - Two panda headstands up. Michael Chabon's comic book picks up where "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" left off, going back several decades.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Two space panda hitchhiking thumbs up. Douglas Adam's silly sci-fi book is an amusing little read and is worth checking out if you intend to see the movie version coming out soon (starring Martin Freeman from "The Office" and, more recently, "Shaun of the Dead").

Movie Review:
Donnie Darko, The Director's Cut - Two special feature panda bleats up. The story is still amazingly convoluted and indecipherable, but the extra footage does make a difference and adds some depth to the already fathomless flick.

The Grudge - One tumble session down. This was just a bunch of creepy shots strung together and really was nothing we haven't seen before. I liked it better the first time I saw it when it was called "The Ring".

Restaurant Review:
Etete Restaurant - One bamboo stalk up. The new local Ethiopean restaurant is clean, high-tech (stereo system and plasma screen), and serves good food, but I prefer Meskerram's Kik Alicha.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Pandi's 'Pinions when he reviews Fear and Trembling.

Previously, on Hawaiilogue: breaking and entering birds, nuts trying to open nuts, and a bloomin' Orion. Cue the theme song, roll the opening credits, and begin the show.

Day Six: The sunshine welcomed us warmly as we made our final trek to the breakfast buffet. The palm trees swayed in the distance, the colorful birds twittered merrily above, and the beautiful beach beckoned us to stroll upon its soft sand one last time. Then . . . Packin' Time (you can't touch this!) *break it down with crazy sideways crab dance*

After stuffing our clothes into our bags and our bags into the car, we checked out and drove to Hilton Waikoloa Village for our whale watching cruise. As we waited on the beach for the Red Sail Sport's catamaran we realized that we left the binoculars in the car. TP and I ran to retrieve the binoculars (one person per nocular) and that was the most exercise I had all week. We returned just in time to be the last to board the Noa Noa. We were given a safety speech, offered some pupu (hors d'oeuvres with a crazier name), and told to LOOK OVER THERE! A BALEEN WHALE! Once we knew what to look for (the bit of black breaking the surface of the water) and listen for (poofs of water when the blowhole blew), we saw the humpback whales popping up all over the place. Fearful of dropping my digicam into the ocean, especially after witnessing someone do just that, I had to photograph what I could from a safe distance away from the edge.


In the distance, we could see the snow-capped Mauna Kea. It was pretty exciting to see these giant beasts slide quietly by and in such close proximity to us tiny land-lubbers. Like Dory, I wished I could speak whale.

In the evening, we stood on the shores of Kona Beach for our last Hawaiian sunset before going into town.



LB and TP wanted to try a drink of kava, a member of the pepper family and a relative of our good buddy betel. They stopped by this place and watched a burly guy ladle a grimy, muddy-looking liquid out of a huge cauldron and serve it to them with a smile. Kava is like an herbal tea (still legal in the U.S. but perhaps not for too long) that has the effect of making your tongue tingle and then is supposed to leave you feeling relaxed and tranquil. That's assuming you can gag it down in the first place. That is one nasty, foul-tasting drink, yo. Here is a sample of some reviews on the taste:

"It was sort of like drinking dirty phlegm."
"It numbed my mouth well enough but I only was able to choke down three or four tablespoons before my gorge threatened serious rising action."
"Like chalk swimming in body sweat."

My take on it? Not quite make-you-want-to-pull-your-eyelashes-out bad, but I'm certainly not going to suggest anyone try it if they want to keep their taste buds happy (and who doesn't?). Grody to the max. Plus, no real effect on us. Granted, we only had a few sips each before our throats began picketing and warning us of a strike, but still.

We chased the atrocious kava drinks down with some disagreeable Thai food. We rounded up the night with some extra-special fun security treatment for Dad at the airport. Finally, we braced ourselves for the long journey home replete with a drunk and unruly passenger (who was greeted by the police when we landed in LAX), sleepless flights with awful movies, seemingly endless layovers (why must all of the seats have arm rests, WHY?! Interrogrumpy!), and bitingly cold and snowy weather upon our arrival. But just so I don't end on a completely downer note, check out this sunrise and enjoy:

When the dusty deconstruction and renovation of the basement requires the relocation of the band equipment to the relatively safer and cleaner upstairs, my poor bookcase and CDcase are unfairly imprisoned:




You don't even wanna know how the guitars have subjugated the dressers and how the rest of the drums are encroaching upon the television's territory.

Happy greeting-card-sponsored, faux, profit-based, marketing-ploy, forced, saccharine-doused, media-spun Valentine's Day, y'all! Pick your card.

(psst - TP, this song's for ye.)

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures
and instructions for dancing
But I . . . I love it when you read to me
And you . . . You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I . . . I love it when you sing to me
And you . . . You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know

But I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
And I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
And I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

--Magnetic Fields

Just got back from watching Million Dollar Baby which I very much enjoyed. A multi-layered story revolving around a grizzled old trainer teaching a determined woman how to box had adrenaline-raising fight scenes and deep, touching quiet scenes. If you like your dialogue delivered in gravelly voices, your humor subtle, and your denouement wrenching, then this is the flick for you. Some of the characters were a little over-the-top (stereotypical trailer trash bits come to mind) and some of the scenes were pretty graphic (ouch, getting bull-dozed in the face and then getting your nose re-set doesn't look like fun at all), but for the most part, the movie was well-developed, the actors were skilled, and the plot moved along smoothly and steadily. Good job, Clint and Hillary! Oh, and Morgan, you can narrate or voice-over the movie of my life anytime.

Mah blizzog if Snoop wuz mah web dizziner. Wanna peep yours? Clizzickity clizzick.

To my Christian homies, Double up, A-men!

Shark Tale: A

Day Six, coming up. After I finish off this bag of anahola granola my awesome cybermom sent in a care package. Woot (crunch crunch) woot!

Day Five: Not much. Honestly. Breakfast, beach, and bird-watching (a cardinal came into our room at one point).

TP and I took a walk around the gardens in the afternoon. We came upon a coconut palm grove and found a coconut on the ground. Since we left our machete at home, TP went into total caveman mode as he tried to pry open the coconut, grunted meaninglessly, threw it violently against the tree, and dragged his knuckles along the ground before pounding it in frustration. We took the coconut for a walk. When we found a large chunk of lava rock near a cliff overlooking the ocean, TP seized the rock, heaved it high, and tried to bash the nut open. No luck. TP sulked and retired into a cave where he expressed his anger and confusion via artistic but simplistic cave drawings depicting the coconut as his friend and enemy.

That evening, we saw Neil Young dining at the table next to us, a traditional Hawaiian musical trio perform in the lobby, and an incredible expanse of the world-reknowned, clear, starry skies at night (Orion is still my favorite).

Next up: a drink that tastes like raw sewage with a hint of brimstone.

Day Four: Since all I had for dinner the night before was about half a bag of potato chips, I actually managed to make two full trips to the buffet for breakfast this time. I hadn't had whole milk in ages so I allowed myself a generous ladling of it when it was anahola granola time. At 9:00 a.m., we met up in the lobby for the garden tour of the resort's grounds. Our guide, whom I dubbed Groundskeeper Willikikihamawananameha even though he had neither a Scottish accent nor a Hawaiian name, greeted us, expressed his astonishment at the huge size of the group (there were eight of us), and led us outside. He pointed out the majestic Royal Palms ($20,000 a pop to transplant from Cuba), the stumpy Dwarf Date Palms, and the fake-sounding Cardboard Palms, all imported from lusher lands. He drew our attention to the fuscia-colored Bougainvillea, the intoxicatingly fragrant Singapore Plumeria, the awesomely-named Monkeypod Tree, and the always attention-grabbing Bird of Paradise:



I tucked a fallen plumeria blossom the behind my ear, watched a boy capture a chameleon and hold it out for all to see whether it would change colors, and accepted my last mosquito bite (note to self: vegetation = pain).

*grabs tennis shoes, shakes fist into the air, and passionately proclaims "as God as my witness, I'll never get bitten (in Hawaii) again!"*

The beach was closed this day because the undertow was too strong. As a result, the cabanas were free (normally, they require a reservation and $30) and y'all should know by now how we love free. Sat in the shade of the cabanas for a while, sat in the sun for a while, got up too fast, forgot about low blood pressure, almost fainted at the edge of the edgeless pool, quickly laid down in the cool grass under the cabana near Mom, felt better, and went inside for a nap.

For lunch, we all went to Arnie's Clubhouse located next to the Arnold-Palmer-designed golf course. The tasty meal was healthy and shot an eagle. We avoided the water hazards by enjoying the refreshing, signature Arnold Palmer drink (half iced tea, half lemonade). However, the vanilla, all-butter pound cake with ripe berries and fresh cream scored a hole-in-one! Wow, that was a corny dining review. Oh well. Fore! I mean, yum!

We tucked TP back into bed to nap off his traditional "I was on an airplane and therefore automatically caught someone's germs" cold and headed down to Kona for some strolling and shopping. The area which we were visiting was very different from our neighborhood: filled with souvenir shops, sporting a stingy strip of beach, and crawling with tourists. At Country Samurai Coffee Company, we were given a brief tutorial by the rather no-nonsense owner on how his coffee beans are picked, washed and dried, husked, roasted, and graded. Gotta say, after downing shot after shot of espresso in Italy and France, Hawaii's Kona coffee is pretty tame. The thin, weak coffee the hotel gave us in the room, we found out later, was only 10% Kona. The 100% stuff is smooth but kickless. We meekly purchased some of the samurai's Extra Fancy blend and then hightailed it out of there before he went all Kill Bill on us.

Returned to rescue TP from boredom, watched Alias (why do I keep watching that show and where the shaq is Sark?! interrostud!), and discussed the merits and pitfalls of going on a helicopter ride over the island.

Next up: a bright and intelligent attorney tries to open a coconut with a big rock.

In other news, I'm almost finished with The Known World (thx, oz!), I invite you to cast yer ballots on the blogpoll to your left.

Day Three: What's better than a cheese omelet? An omelet that has two kinds of cheese. I heart cheese. Cheesy Cheesy Cheese. So, after filling my belly with a breakfast of eggs and cheese (see what happens when Dad is away?), we explored the beach. With sturdy beach sandals on (I still have my 14 year old, busticated Tevas), TP and I ventured out onto the unfriendly lava rocks and were greeted by slivers of black fish, scoops of black snails, and scurrying, scrabbling black crabs. The surf was pounding roughly on the beach that morning so there were only a few daredevils out in the water. We spent the morning reading our respective books on the beach: Mom with her Koran For Dummies, TP with his E.L. Doctorow, LB with her Hawaii, and me with Kim, which doubled as reading material and, when strategically placed face-down over the bridge of my nose and covering my eyes, sunscreen.

Dad met up with us and we drove over to Waimea, the closest town to us that was still about half an hour away. After browsing around a natural foods health store where TP snagged some rambutans we went to a small shack of a restaurant called Aioli's for some healthy Ahi sammiches. Holy role-reversal (part deux), Batman! Somehow, Mom got away with just having a huge slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream for lunch. We got back on the road and headed to the east coast.

We reached Akaka Falls State Park and the minute I stepped foot out of the car, I was accosted by mosquitoes. Why did I wear chappals to the tropical rain forest? Because I'm a glutton for itchy punishment. Taking the quarter of a mile trail to the falls, we enjoyed the towering bamboo groves, widdle bitty Kahuna Falls, a puny 100-foot cascade, and the star 442-foot Akaka Falls plunging into the gorge.


The falls were not as thundering and breathtaking as Iceland's Gullfoss waterfall, but they were attractive and distracting enough for me to score two more mosquito bites.

Returning to the car through the forest of banyan trees, native ferns, and more bamboo, we tried to figure out what the piercing, chirping noise we heard was. TP identified it as Hawaii's newest nightmare: the shrieking Coqui frog from Puerto Rico. Turn the volume down and listen to this: Ko-kee! Ko-Kee! No wonder Hawaii is considering calling a state of emergency over this.

On our way back to Hapuna, we stopped at an attraction which you will find in no guidebook but which amazed and delighted us to no end. The first time I saw it whizzing by on our drive the day before, I was stunned. Did I just see what I thought I saw: rows and rows of roosters, each one standing with almost military precision next to his little inverted V (not a consummate V!) house? We found the little farm, got out of the car, and discovered the secret: each rooster's ankle was shackled to his abode. Crazy-doodle-doo!


The sun was starting to set and we were all enthralled by its beauty. If not for the catlike reflexes of yours truly, I would have been dazzled by the sunset and run over a reckless mongoose who darted across my car's path on his way to attend to some urgent business. Here is a pix of the mongoose-widow-maker:


Next up: Groundskeeper Willikikihamawananameha

Day Two: Woke up at 6:00 a.m., went out onto the balcony, and watched the full moon sink into the Pacific horizon. I tried to take a decent pix of the moonset but my digicam wasn't quite up to the task. We were Dadless this morning because his conference had begun for the week so we were left to our own devices until he was free after noon. We got our daily shot of macadamia nuts at breakfast (seriously, they put it in everything from pancakes to granola to omelets to coffee) and made a beeline for the beach. Not surprisingly, the beach was pretty empty that early in the morning. The white sand was incredibly soft and I took much joy in curling my bare toes into it. Merrily, we strolled along, keeping a close eye out for rocks and shells that washed up on shore and could either viciously scrape our tender feet or sit pretty and look nice on our desks. Or both. The beach did not extend very far before a huge wall of lava boulders separated the private beach from the public one.



A little toe-dipping session later, we decided that we'd wait for Dad before leaping into the waves. Instead, we thought ahead to snack time and agreed to go into town for some groceries. We drove past the brownish-black a'a' with their brilliant, bleached coral graffiti for about an hour until we reached Kailua-Kona, home of the Ironman Triathalon: a 2.4-mile ocean swim, 112-mile bike race, and 26.2-mile run all within 17 hours. Alas, the event is held every October, so we could not participate. The grocery store's selections were heavily influenced by Japanese tastes and that's how we ended up with green tea ice cream flavored hard candy, fish jerky, lichee candy, sushi, and panda biscuits along with our salt and vinegar chips and dark chocolate bars. TP and I sat in the parking lot and gobbled down the sushi. It really wasn't as distasteful as it sounds because the parking lot was clean, quiet, and shaded by swaying palm trees, and overlooked the sparkling blue Kailua Bay.

Dad was free from his classes at noon, so we plied him with sushi and then all trekked down to the beach. The resort provided each of us with soft, clean beach towels and lounge chairs on the sand. We staked out a section that could accommodate all of us and was away from everyone else. Then, the leaping began. Mom watched over our gear as the rest of us, in varying displays of courage, plunged headlong into the ocean. Dad, in his short, rainbow-patterned, 1970s swim trunks, and TP, with his two-stitches, still-healing finger now unbandaged, were the most daring with their dives and body surfing and splashing around. The waves were strong enough to keep us awake but not so dangerous that they kept us on land. Because we were in a secluded area that was surrounded by jagged lava rocks, we had the whole section of the beach and water to ourselves. An hour or so later, we were all tuckered out and flopped onto our chairs to gaze upon the ocean and zone out. We read, we snacked, and we created great works of art in the sand. The towering waves and darkening skies triggered conversations ranging from the tragedy of the recent Asian tsunami to the stunning suddenness of the sun setting on the ocean in a blink of an eye.



Our evening ended with a conference-sponsored pasta dinner in the courtyard of the hotel. Booo-ring. Zzzzzzzzz.

Next up: Akaka waterfalls, rooster prisoners, and wayward mongooses . . . er . . . mongeese . . . uh . . . moxen?

Day One: I woke up in Hawaii. Any story that begins with that sentence is okay by me. So. The 50th state in the union, Hawaii (a.k.a. the Sammich Islands) is the world's most isolated archipelago (about 2000 miles from L.A.; about 6000 miles from D.C. - hence the eye-reddening flights) and is made up of six to eight islands (can't seem to find a consensus on that so maybe Two Scoops can help out here). We were kicking it on the Big Island, the only one that has both snow and active volcanoes.

After LB and Dad did some recon around the hotel and beach, we all met up for a lavish all-you-can-eat buffet brunch. I loaded up on divine and yet healthy for you Anahola Granola. Over tart pineapples, sweet strawberries, lime-drenched papayas (TP graciously ate my share), pastries, cereals, juices, and mild Kona coffee, we discussed the plans for the day. Most of us grunted "beach" several times, but Dad insisted that we visit Honolulu on the neighboring island of O'ahu. We found out that the trip would involve getting up and being at the airport (45 minutes away) at 5:00 a.m., catching a flight to O'ahu, getting shackled to a guided tour, and slapping down about $300/person. We thought about taking a ferry instead, but apparently, it hasn't been built yet. Even though we all wanted to see Pearl Harbor, we kicked up a fuss and finally, Dad relented. I think the main reason he complied was because by then he found out where the golf pro shop was. As a compromise, we decided to visit the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

We drove for two and a half hours along the upper curve of the island, through the big city of Hilo, and into the park. Our side of the island was leeward and therefore usually sunny and dry. This side of the island was windward and wet and although we packed our rain gear, in the end, we had no need for it. We gave ourselves a little tour of the visitor's center and the volcano house while waiting for the official (free) tour to begin. At tour time, a tiny, young Japanese girl appeared and in a thick accent declared herself our guide. She rattled off some of the endemic flora and fauna, told us the legend of the ohia trees, cursed the invasive ginger plants, and gave us a brief lesson in geology which I will share with you now. Settle down, class, this won't take long.

Whether its due to (a) Vulcan the blacksmith (not the mind-melding humanoid Vulcans, you nerdlinger) tooling around in his forge (b) the wrath of the goddess Pele in full force or (c) bouyancy and gasses pressuring molten rock away from the core of the planet, liquid hot MAG-ma (said in Dr. Evil's voice with pinky placed appropriately near the smirk) spurts up and out of the weak parts of the earth's crust. Sometimes, the magma reservoir (it took us several moments to figure out that's what our guide was saying when she said "lezivah") erupts via a fixed hot spot (imagine the nastiest pimple-popping session EVER) while the plates on the surface continue to float and shift. Here, the Pacific Tectonic Plate was moving westward while the volcanoes did their thing and when the lava cooled, each Hawaiian island was formed (just like Iceland!). So the farther west you go, the older the island (i.e. Niihau - population 230 - is the baji of the archipelago). The farthest east, the Big Island is the baby of the family and since there is still some volcanic activity, it is still growing. Isn't that the cutest thing? No? Maybe this is:




Anyway, back to the tour. Turns out, our guide led us along the same route we had just taken. We did learn quite a bit (a crater is less than a mile, a caldera is greater) and oohed and ahhed over the Kilauea Volcano below:



Despite the warnings that the goddess Pele (or "Pere" who sometimes wears a "lead dress") would be angered if we took any of her lava rocks away, we took our chances. Here she is venting some steam:



The lava fields were just incredible and really made you feel as though you were on a completely different planet or moon (with convenient human-friendly atmosphere, how sweet!):



I thought of my fellow Scrabbie-lovers when I learned that this particular lava is known as "aa" because, as the joke goes, when your tender, bare feet land on the incredibly sharp shards of lava, you exclaim, "ah! ah!" We drove along the Crater Rim Road for some wide, unobstructed views of the desolate landscape and ended our day with a walk through the rain forest to the Thurston Lava Tube (the III).



We thought about driving down to the coast to witness the current eruptions and the molten lava slowly sliding into the sea, but we hadn't had any lunch, the sun was starting to set, and we were still on Eastern Standard Time. We drove back to the hotel along the spectacular coast and up the lush mountains and down deep gullies of the northern edge of the island, marveling over what we had seen. Dinner (sushi, sushi, suuuuushi!), discussion (What's with volcanic islands (Iceland and Hawaii come to mind) and outrageous prices? The price of gas was between $2.60 - $2.75/gallon! And yes, I had a car and therefore had a perfectly legitimate excuse for indulging in my obsessive gas price comparison shopping), and deep sleep.

Next up: Body surfing on the Pacific Ocean