The Heusens

...Saya's two new bottom teeth, that is.

Sorry, no pics for you, SICKO!

Posted by Ashlyn at 2:48 AM | Permalink | Comments

I have become a wistful old bag of wind who walks around saying "These young kids today. They don't know what good hip hop and rap is. The last good year for hip hop was 1998. They knew what they were doing back then."

This is who I miss:
Tupac, Rakim, Goodie Mob, Dr. Dre, Shock G, Slick Rick, Ice Cube, Sugarhill Gang.

Jay-Z: Come out of your fake retirement. We need you. One of MY 99 problems is that you didn't come out with an album this year.
DMX: Stop abusing dogs and get back to rapping. We need you.

I miss the old days of hip hop and rap, where I got to hear a little story, it usually made sense, it actually rhymed, it sometimes raised my political consciousness, and it sometimes made me want to get crunk and hyphy. Who can argue that Ice Cube's Today Was a Good Day, Slick Rick's Children's Story, Tupac's Changes and Naughty by Nature's O.P.P. don't fit that bill? Even Vanilla Ice got it right. When Sugarhill Gang complains "Have you ever went over to a friend's house to eat, and the food just ain't no good...I mean the macaroni's soggy, the peas are mushed, and the chicken tastes like wood!?" I can totally empathize!

I don't know where hip hop took a wrong turn. At some point, some of the songs made less sense. (Even though Missy Elliott never made total sense, I always gave her a free pass because she is kind of insane. I remember seeing the video for I Can't Stand the Rain and thinking WHOA. She really didn't care what she looked like - she was dressed up like a California raisin for godssakes. I remember thinking it was the end of an era when she lost weight and started doing nudie shots in her videos.) Unfortunately, a lot of rappers (who are not anywhere as cool as Missy Elliott) took a cue from Miz Misdemeanor and started inserting a lot of nonsensical lyrics into their songs. I remember the first time I heard Timbaland's Luv 2 Luv U at a party in college. Why is it necessary to ramble nonsensicals like "the bird bird bird, the bird is the word?" Me no likey.

Was Timbaland the beginning of the downfall? I have to say that even though his stuff is catchy, the rhyming is just not up to par. Take, for example, his Promiscuous Girl lyrics:

Timbaland: "I could see you with my T-shirt on."
Nelly Furtado: "I could see you with nothing on."

Um, okay, it makes sense, but is it clever?

By the time I hit junior year of college, I sensed hip hop was on a decline. Nelly was super popular. I mean, he's very likable as a person. But ALL his songs sound the same. Not to mention that he lost a LOT of credibility with Grillz. Juvenile's stuff not only all sounded the same, but he didn't even try to rhyme. Just because you add the word "yeah" to the end of every single line of your song does not mean it rhymes. Dude. And Eminem got really popular too. I know many people think he is a lyrical poet. But I just found him annoying. To me, Eminem was just a whiny little kid who needed a good spanking and a time out.

Even Geto Boyz' Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta, while charming, did not make very much sense:

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta (Totally!)
Gettin voted into the white house (um, ok, maybe you're going for some political statement?)
Everything lookin good to the people of the world
But the mafia family is my boss (ok, you're preserving your ties, got it)
So every now and then I owe a favor gettin down
Like lettin a big drug shipment through (ok, i'm still with you...)
And send em to the poor community (okaaayyyy...)
So we can bust you know who (you've lost me. I don't know who "you know who" is. Sorry!)

Geto Boyz, you lost me at "you know who."

I felt like the arrival of Ludacris partially redeemed the hip hop scene. So adorable. With clever, legit rhymes. And funny too!

But then I saw this clip this year and I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up. It was truly, well, ludicrous:



By the late nineties, Tupac and Biggie were gone, and the only people left in hip hop producing anything I liked were Jay-Z and Ludacris, pretty much. I liked stuff by the Neptunes and some stuff by Outkast, but thought Snoop had sold out. When Lil' Jon and Petey Pablo's Freak a Leak came out, I thought we'd hit an all-time low. I mean, seriously. Freak a Leak? And seriously. Lil' Jon? Since when was growling and not making sense considered a talent? (Granted, imitating him on Chappelle's show was genius).

Another low? Ying Yang twins' Shake it Like a Salt Shaker. Puh-lease. Don't tell me to shake it like something that has the word "shake" in the name! Here are some things that would be more clever to shake it like: an earthquake, a baby, a maraca. At least be clever like Andre 3000 and tell me to shake it like a polaroid picture.

Also, 50 Cent? Snore. Bo-ring!
And P-Diddy? Don't get me started. Although, to be fair, his recent "I am King" cologne commercials - where he is actually riding a waverunner in a tuxedo - have provided me with far more entertainment than I think he intended.

The other advent in rap/hip hop that kind of annoys me is the invention of totally over-the-top cultural references that you need to look up on urbandictionary.com. Take, for example, the term "superman dat ho." I can't just assume that Soulja Boy is ranting like a sweaty-toothed madman when he calls upon us to superman dat ho. Instead, I have to take it upon myself to search for the phrase on Urban Dictionary, and then acknowledge that there is a legit definition for the term, which is both ridiculous and elaborate, and which Soulja Boy probably made up himself. He is quite crafty, you know. You never know what goes on behind those stunna shades.

Another example of the over-the-top cultural inventions is ghost-riding the whip. I mean, come on! Under what state of the universe is ghost-riding the whip ever necessary? I actually had a dream the other night that I was sitting on a curb holding Saya when someone on the street started ghost-riding the whip, and I got super mad at him, and started yelling at him for being unsafe. Does it mean that hip hop these days does suck? Or does it just make me old?

And does it make me old if I can't pop, drop and lock it without my knees hurting?

Have we reached the bottom yet? Everytime I hear Lil' Wayne's Mrs. Officer, I think we have:

I said, Lady, what's your number?
She said 911.
Haaaaaaa.

The way he says haaaa is like he's kind of stoned and falling asleep, and maybe is a few cards shy of a full deck. It makes me depressed just listening to the poor quality of the song. It's not even catchy, and it's one of the most popular songs on the radio right now.

We need a hip hop revolution.

Do you feel me, 2009?

Posted by Ashlyn at 12:55 AM | Permalink | Comments

Saya made out like a bandit this Christmas. We schlepped back from LA at least triple her weight in toys. We got so many books that -- the horror! -- we cleared out an entire shelf for her in our glorious cookbookcase. Ash and I can't help but feel like we're being marginalized in this family.

Speaking of our little superstar, I just noticed that all of our Christmas photos feature her. It's like the rest of us are just props.


View the rest of the album here.

Speaking of nerdy baby jokes, I'm thinking of proving the following conjecture:

If Saya has banana puree on her face, then in the limit as t approaches infinity, she will have banana covering the entire surface of her body.

I will then attempt to prove the following lemma:

If she is sitting on daddy's lap while eating the banana, then as t approaches infinity, daddy will also have banana covering the surface of his body.

Proving these conjectures will confirm our intuition from observing experimental data.

Labels: photos, Saya

Posted by Kris at 10:54 AM | Permalink | Comments

This is the last Hawaii post, I promise! The day before we left Hawaii, we were able to meet up with Marsha (a Honolulu native) and her awesome family (mom Bette, dad Gordon, and sister Jen) at Ono's Hawaiian food for a traditional, delicious Hawaiian meal. It was as delicious as it was educational. And the food was very different from what I've had previously at a very touristy luau.

I felt like such a lame-o amateur compared to Marsha's family, who rattled off their orders like pros: "Lau lau plate. Pork. With poi, not rice. Day old." Whoa! Whaaa? I just followed suit and ordered what Marsha did. Apparently the day old poi is slightly tangier than the fresh, relatively tasteless poi, and provides a better contrast to the salty, fatty lau lau pork wrapped in seaweed. Cool! Other interesting aspects of the meal included little pieces of beef jerky to dip in the poi and eat almost like chips and dip. And thick slices of sweet Maui onion to dip in poi and then sprinkle with Hawaiian salt. Good, stick-to-your-ribs stuff! I'm not sure why so many people dislike poi. I don't find it offensive at all. Saya liked it, too!

After our meal, we arrived back at our rental van to discover that the driver's side view mirror had been knocked off by another car. The mirror was lying broken in the street, and of course there was no note. So annoying, especially because the amount of the damage will be less than our deductible and we have to pay the rental company for days they can't rent the van. Even more annoying: this is the second time this happened in the last month! (Side story: Kris was stopped at a light when another car tried to squeeze by him and knocked off his driver's side mirror. The driver didn't pull over until Kris followed her. Then she told him that she would pay for the damage via PayPal. After several phone calls, she had not, so we reported the accident to her insurance after paying a ridiculous $360 to get it repaired. Then, her insurance settled in her favor because she claimed that she had never been in the accident (there was no damage to her car). Her insurance company couldn't explain why we would have a random woman's driver's license number, insurance information, address, license plate number, etc...Needless to say, we were PISSED!). The whole thing just sucks because we really can't afford to spend $700 on mirrors in a month, especially for things that were not our fault. I could have bought a crib and high chair with that money.

We ended up having to file a police report for the damage. The Honolulu cops actually drove out to Marsha's parents' house to write it up. I found this very cute and conscientious of them. Can you imagine if LAPD went out to people's homes for things as minor as this?


Please be assured that I embraced the urge to yell "Hawaii Five-O!" when the cop showed up.

What better way to get over the car drama - and celebrate Honolulu cops - than to get a bunch of malasadas, the amazing Portuguese doughnuts that are famous in Hawaii! (I am still unclear about why we don't have these in California...they're awesome). If you haven't had them, they're more like deep-fried sweet bread than doughnuts - the dough is more yeasty. And they are served hot, covered with sugar (and sometimes cinnamon). The outside is slightly crispy, and biting into one is EXTREMELY PLEASURABLE. Trust me.

Marsha previously told me that there was something of a malasada war going on in her family. Her parents preferred Leonard's, the original malasada joint. But Marsha heard that they didn't change their oil frequently, leading to an oilier, heavier malasada. So Marsha said she preferred the malasadas at Champion's Bakery (run by a former Leonard's employee).

There was no other way to settle this controversy than by having a blind taste test. We went to both bakeries and picked up a dozen malasadas each. Then we placed the malasadas in front of Marsha. I'm not gonna lie...there was a certain suspense in the air. Marsha weighed each malasada carefully in her hands. She proclaimed that the lighter malasada was from Champion's. And proceeded to eat it with gusto.


Marsha was wrong.

It was almost heartbreaking to tell her. When we told her, her expression was both crestfallen and bewildered. Kind of like ours. It kind of felt like when I was watching the movie Spellbound...you know, the one about all the kids who compete in the national spelling bee? All those kids, who are so invested in spelling and do it day in, day out. You start rooting for the kids, and completely trusting their expertise. When you see one of the kids misspell a word, you feel the same sense of shock and hurt that they do.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but that is kind of how it went down. (Jen may also have yelled "HAH!" and Marsha may have backpedaled and said that she still preferred Champion's. I may have also comforted myself by eating a malasada from each bakery, just to make sure they were both good).

After a sugar-coma afternoon, we finished off a day of feasting with some fantastic drive-through plate dinners: shoyu chicken, mochiko chicken (chicken breaded and fried with rice powder), chasu, teriyaki beef, and the classic Hawaiian staple: potato salad. It was a great day! Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Ing!

Posted by Ashlyn at 12:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

On our last Saturday in Hawaii, we decided to have my parents renew their vows in a lighthearted yet (happily) tearful ceremony called "The Joining of the Papaya."

It was a playful riff on what I think will become a family tradition! At our wedding, Kris surprised me by having Maryn perform a "Joining of the Orange" ceremony.

Here's the backstory: When I was living in Phoenix, I lived behind a clothing shop. I became friendly with the kooky owner, a burned-out hippie who had lived in Argentina for years. I would always go on and on and on about how amazing Kris is, and she flat out told me that I was stupid for moving away from him for a job. She told me, "In Argentina, we have a saying. You are half of an orange. Kris is the other half of your orange. Go be with him!"

While I generally don't like being told that I am less than whole as myself, the hippie lady was charming and cute and the orange half thing became a meme in our relationship. Whenever I missed Kris I'd tell him that I needed my other orange half. So, at our wedding, Kris had Maryn recite a "joining of the orange" ceremony that was super cute...and a total surprise to me! We joined orange halves together while Maryn recited a witty little ceremony that concluded with her "zestfully pronouncing" us "mandarin and wife." It is my most treasured memory of our wedding day. We decided to extend the tradition for my parents' vow renewal, using a more Hawaii-specific fruit.

Last Saturday, we spent the day planning their meal and setting up a special evening for them. It was the least we could do, considering they'd taken us all to Hawaii for a week! To kick off the evening, we first gifted them with leis:


My mom LOVES martinis and only drinks one per year...on her anniversary. She already drank one this year on her actual anniversary, so according to her, we "forced" her to drink another. You can tell how much she hated the experience:


My parents can't drink (anymore). My mom was acting tipsy about 1/4 of the way through. And my dad started snoring - snoring - during dessert! But we think they enjoyed it.

For appetizers, we served some ahi poke while our runners (AKA Brian and Kris) picked up some of Haleiwa's finest eats: papaya salad, green salad, and pineapple fried rice from Haleiwa Eats, and more of Kua 'Aina's delectable burgers:


After eating, we proceeded with the Joining of the Papaya. My parents walked down a beach towel aisle to an "altar" of tiki torches.


We wrote some funny (yet touching) vows for them to recite, which you can read at my sister's post. Then, they joined their papaya halves, and we celebrated with chocolate pie from Ted's Bakery!

The hand signs here are from the original version of the Parent Trap. Whenever the twin sisters are excited, they make this hand sign to one another. Maryn and I started copying it in elementary school and do it every time we're excited!

Posted by Ashlyn at 12:39 AM | Permalink | Comments