Two words: Smirnoff Vanilla
Category: Exploits
max’s wittle bitty (part 2)
Getting rid of Bitty turned out to be a mistake. Max demanded to know where his pet had gone. Upon learning that Bitty had been returned to the pond (“to be with his friends…”), he threw an epic fit. It was so incredibly heart-rending and long, we all piled in the car. Destination: Pet store.
The main pet store in Maha Sarakham is five minutes from our house, but it seemed like ages with Max screaming the whole way. The last time I’d been there was a few years before, to buy charcoal for my DIY air/water purification project (mission status: Incomplete). I had been horrified to see the neglect of the fishtanks on display; a couple of them were filled with the black, rotting corpses of goldfish bobbing violently as the pumps merrily bubbled away. This time, there were no such horrors. We bought Max the smallest possible tank (ten inches by six?) with gravel and a pump, and decided on two attractively striped little bitties. We didn’t know it at the time, but this tank contained an anomalous zone with Strange Occurrences.
The best way to describe the Occurrences is with a timeline of the less than one-month span the aquarium was actually in operation, plus the follow-up period:
- Day 1: The attractively striped bitties spend a happy night together.
- Day 2: Daddy finds a small freshwater crab outside in the yard (they crawl over from the pond across the street, or up from the drainage pipes), and puts it in the tank.
- Day 3: One of the bitties disappears; there is zero trace of him.
- Day 8: The crab molts, and for a day, it looks like there are two crabs (Nam is convinced that daddy put another, immobile crab in the aquarium).
- Day 9: The molted shell disappears, apparently eaten by the crab to stave off osteoporosis.
- Day 20: Nanny finds a HUGE male crab with a claw the size of the entire smaller crab; we put it in the tank.
- Day 23: Somebody puts red sticky rice in the aquarium and the water turns soupy pink. The crabs grow pink fuzz on their shells.
- Day 26: The remaining bitty disappears, also with zero clues left as to what actually happened.
- Day 27: Since Max lost interest in the aquarium and there are no actual bitties left, daddy makes the executive decision to let the crabs go and save the electricity used to keep the pump running.
- Day 28: The aquarium, emptied of water and left outside, suddenly cracks as if in protest.
- Day 35: The nanny’s hand is cut as she tries to move the broken aquarium.
- Day 40: The aquarium disappears without a trace.
So the main mystery is: What happened to the fish? The simple explanation is that the crabs ate them. However, although this is perhaps a reasonable explanation for the second fish, the first fish was nearly as big as the small crab (the big crab wasn’t yet in the tank when the first fish disappeared). And there are other questions/factors as well:
- Do these types of crabs eat live fish? They didn’t seem to like meat as far as I could tell.
- The crabs did like goldfish pellets and were fed twice daily
- Even if the crabs did catch the fish, it seems unlikely they could have eaten them entirely, leaving no trace at all
- Daddy did look to see what was happening in the tank at least twice a day, during feeding time
The other major possibility is that the fish jumped out of the tank, but I never found them. The area around the table the tank was kept on was cluttered with baby seats and toys and whatnot, but I looked around everywhere more than once and still didn’t find anything.
Not having a satisfactory answer and not knowing eventually led me to consider alternative explanations:
- Wormhole (did they warp away?)
- Evolution (did they walk away?)
- Outside predation (did an errant albatross enter my house unnoticed?)
- Astral Travel (did they have an out of body experience so good they decided to stay there – and teleport their bodies away as well?)
- Alien Death Ray (did ET screw with my bitties?)
- Sashimi (did Mina dare Max to swallow them whole? Did some wasabi and shoyu disappear as well?)
I fear I will never know.
Does anybody out there have a better guess?
max’s wittle bitty
Just about a month ago, we had a big storm come in at night due to a typhoon battering Taiwan. It rained a lot more than normal, even for rainy season, and the pond in front of our house must have flowed over onto the road at some point during the night. I say must have because I didn’t actually see it happen, but found some evidence to that effect including washed up debris on our curb and a half-dead pla salit (Snakeskin Gourami). Upon poking with my finger, he wiggled a bit, so I decided to try reviving him in a spare six liter PET water bottle I had in the yard.
I filled it with water from the pond and slipped him in through the top, and after performing carefully measured agitation to stimulate oxygen transport over the gills (read: shaking it for a while), Mr. Gourami “turned that frown upside down” and started swimming around.
Thus was born the Ghettoquarium in all its polyethylene terephthalatiffic glory:

Max was delighted and immediately dubbed the fish “Bitty” (it was not until later that I realized he was trying to say “fishy,” but by then I had gotten used to calling him Bitty as well).
Bitty received due adulation from his attending 2.5 year old host, including being assaulted with long cooking chopsticks and drinking straws joined end-to-end (which daddy was using to occasionally blow air into the bottle just for the hell of it). But as cool as this fish was, and as much as Max loved him, I decided to let him go at the end of the day because I wanted him to go live with his friends in the pond. Also, I had no desire to find out which aquatic plants he could eat by trial and error – I knew he ate plants because that’s what it said in my go-to SE Asian fish book, Fish and Fish Dishes of Laos by Alan Davidson.
In addition, Max gets bored with new toys almost instantly, so we thought we could get away with Bitty just suddenly disappearing… This is how we ended up going out as a family to buy a small aquarium less than two hours after I threw Bitty back in the pond, but that’s another story.
For now, I choose only to commemorate a boy and his fish:
How to defeat a breathalyzer test in Japan 5 years ago, or Thailand today
Put your mouth up to the apparatus and make a show of drawing a deep breath. When you exhale, do it through your nose instead of your mouth, but obviously not in a way that will be noticed by the people administering the test. Basically, you are aiming to make a sound like you are exhaling into the apparatus while not actually doing so.
At least, that’s what I hear.
The best way to avoid trouble at all is of course to avoid drinking and driving entirely.
But hey, work drink-ups are a bitch, I know.
The Making of Ulan
That’s what happens when it gets too tiresome to write about what really happened.
Ulan
The other day, I was dozing off in the pre-dawn glow coming through the French windows in our living room when I suddenly remembered something that happened on the flight back: Having survived the thirteen hour leg from Bangkok to Incheon with two cranky babies and zero sleep (and also having taken a capital D with hyperized Max present in the aircraft lavatory – one of my proudest achievements and a story in itself), we stiff-legged it off the plane like penguins and waited around the nearest room for our stroller to be produced.
An unkempt old lady with crazy eyes came up to me and started asking for help in what I first thought was Korean. I tried to tell her that I couldn’t speak Korean, but she would not be dissuaded and continued to plead with me in guttural tones. While I was wondering what she wanted, I noticed she had a little nappy haired girl in tow, who had rosy cheeks and was crying inconsolably. After a while, the old lady put two boarding passes in my hand and said, “Ulaanbaatar.”
“Oh, Mongolia?” I asked.
“Mongolia,” she confirmed. Now having identified the language I totally couldn’t understand, I flagged down one of the Korean Air staff members hanging around and asked him to help the old lady, as she was noticeably limping. The man wouldn’t help out and just told us to move down the hall to the transfer area. Fucker.
Nam and I looked at each other, and decided to help them out. Both of us were taking care of a baby and carry ons, so we weren’t moving quickly anyway. The old lady’s limp looked really bad and the little girl would start wailing every time she was put down. I offered to carry a brown shopping bag the old lady was carrying in addition to a big black backpack.
We only walked a minute or so until we hit a line of people waiting to get through security checks to the transfer area. I was so zonked and busy trying to keep the kids happy that it didn’t register until the very last minute that I was carrying somebody else’s bag through a security check. A brief flash of paranoia and bad Hollywood-induced visions nearly froze me in place, but I ran up to the old lady and put the bag on the scanner conveyor next to her backpack.
// //
When the man working the x-ray scanner saw the bundle of det cord wrapped around a take out box full of spicy Mongolian Barbecue, he hit the panic button and drew his sidearm in one smooth motion, but it was too late. The “old lady” and “little girl” had already stepped out of their human hosts and begun weaving death and mayhem.
First they triggered the bomb, which atomized the meat slathered in special chili sauce, blinding everyone in a ten foot radius, including several guards. Then they pulled scythes from the black backpack and went for the throats of anyone moving.
They came for me, too, but I made the sign of an ancient Mongolian god in the air and whispered, Ulaanbaatar, Ulaanbaatar, Ulaanbaatar, and they left us unharmed. Nobody else made it out alive, though. The spirits needed blood, and they took it from fat tourist and tough Korean grandma alike that day.
Return delayed?
Mina has broken out in red dots all over her face and back… Roseola? Fifth disease? Measles?
Going back on the 27th does not look good – there’s no way they’ll let her through looking like this.
More later.
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Who knows how this will turn out. Sometimes you just have to relinquish control and let things be how they be. You know, just let it flow. Like this:
Having fun
We didn’t even bring a camera, but everyone around us is taking photos so I’ll gather them all together just before we leave. Anyways, that’s one reason I’m not posting photos.
@home 2010
Justin, Nam, Max, and Mina are visiting the Yoshida clan home in Cali for most of May. We are checking email sporadically, but are offline as much as possible. I know that means missing out on gems like the following, but that’s a relatively small sacrifice to make.
Bad juju days
The past 48 hours have been so trying, it would be easier to just forget about them. It is for that very reason that I now attempt to document them.
Two nights ago, I fell asleep with a high fever and covered up with a heavy blanket when the chills started an hour later. I woke up a couple hours later hearing my wife’s voice telling me to do something, but I was drenched in my own sweat and feverish again. I somehow sensed there was a blackout, because the room was completely dark – no flashing LEDs from electronics or nightlights for the babies could be seen.
I kicked off the sweaty blanket and found my glasses by touch, then went to one of my flashlight stashes. None of the fuses were tripped in the fusebox and there was no power running to it. A quick check outside showed that the streetlights were still on and the house next door still had power. As both babies don’t sleep well in the heat (it’s 80° to 90° at night now), Nam called her sister to come pick up Max and take him to sleep at his grandparent’s house and we got ready to take Mina to a hotel if we had to. We then called the power company and they promised to send out a truck to investigate.
I examined our power meter outside and realized I was so feverish, it felt really cool even in the heat. I took deep breaths, popped some tylenol, and wondered why this shit was all happening at once. Little did I know it was just beginning.
The power company came quickly, and checked all the lines in the neighborhood with a spotlight mounted on their orange ten ton (with a cherry picker). They eventually found a blown fuse that connected our house and several others, and replaced it. There was probably no power for around 90 minutes, and in that time, many people left in their cars, probably thinking the power would be out all night and unwilling to spend the night without AC. As the power came back on, Nam’s mom and sister showed up to pick up Max, but he still seemed sleepy so we just let him be. With the aircon back on, we all got back to sleep again eventually.
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The next day, I decided to take my Crown in to a different garage than I usually visit to try and solve recurring engine problems. We dropped it off at a place just down the street from our tract and came back home, where I dropped into a feverish stupor again.
The nanny had to go to a funeral, so I had to stay at home with the Mina while Max went to nursery school and mommy went to work for a meeting around lunch. She went to go look for shoes at Big C Plaza (just down the street from our house) on the way and crashed into the back of a pickup exiting the parking lot. Luckily, no one was hurt. Luckily, our insurance is going to pay for our car’s damage even though this year we downgraded from “first class” insurance to “fifth class” insurance which is a newly-created derivative of “third class” insurance that provides “third class plus” coverage at less than half the price of first class insurance. But still, I love my cars, so let me say this just once:
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
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Luckily, the damage is minimal and the hit was above the airbag sensors. Once I unloaded everything from the Cefiro, we took it to a garage the insurer would let us use (and that we’ve used before).
Nam drove the Cefiro, and I took Max in the Crown, which we picked up at the garage…The mechanic couldn’t find anything really wrong during the short time he had the Kujira, but had some interesting things to say about my recurring green spark plugs. He reckons they were being caused by radiator fluid. The steel cap on the radiator’s reserve tank is the spring-loaded type, but the spring subassembly and rubber gasket must have fallen off years ago, so the cap just sits on the tank loosely… When the radiator boils, fluid erupts from the gap between cap and tank and gets into the plugs. That’s what he reckons, anyway. I admit, it’s a good theory and I’d love for this to have been the cause because if so, I’ve already fixed it by purchasing a new cap. But I have my doubts, because when I first started having this problem, the plugs were doubly protected against moisture by the plug cups, which are held flush to the engine block with four screws each, plus a long cover screwed down on top of that (which I recently modified by cutting short to leave the first five plug cups exposed in an effort to dissipate heat and improve accessibility since I was pulling plugs so often).
Plug problems aside, I noticed that the Crown was still seriously losing power at gear changes. Having ruled out plugs as the cause of this semi-recent problem, I vowed to get to the bottom of it since the Crown had just become our primary form of transportation by default. For the record, I suspected a fuel filter/sock or since it’s a Nissan engine, a sensor problem. I debated all night whether to take it to the Nissan dealer to hook it up to a computer, or back to the garage again. Fate decided for me.
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This morning, my fever and headache were finally gone.
Max didn’t want to get in the car seat but our neighbors kindly distracted him by showing off their litter of eight half-Rot puppies. We got within a kilometer of his school and were pulling out of the old Maha Sarakham University campus when the Crown started losing power and I was forced to reverse back down an incline to park on the side of the road just as the engine completely stopped. It wouldn’t start again and it sounded like I had run out of gas. However, I had put in seven liters from a jerrycan the night before, so I knew this was not the case.
A security guard at the gatehouse helped me push the car into the shade, because it was already getting super hot out. Max, having woken up early and cried pretty hard, was sleeping and sweating profusely. My shirt was soaked, too. The guard brought over a faded traffic cone and plopped it in the street behind my car. I pulled Max from his child seat and as he slept on my shoulder, I called Nam, who was getting a ride from a colleague to work. They came to where we were and called a tow truck from the garage. At that point, I tried one last time and the engine roared back to life. We called to cancel the tow, Nam and her friend took Max to school, and I headed for the garage. On the way, I decided I would go home first to unload all of the tools (tons of them) from my car first, so took a turn that led me back onto the university campus, but on a different route than the one I’d just been on, which is where my car died again.
I called Nam again. I drenched my shirt again. I stood cursing under the sun again. I tried to push my car into shade again but it was uphill, so I gave up and contented myself by just pushing it off the road, in front of a student dormitory entrance. Nam and her friend came again. I found a tow point under the back of her Toyota Fortuner SUV and asked if she wouldn’t mind towing me to the garage. She said she hadn’t done it before, and I told just to drive very slow. I pulled the steel tow cable from my trunk and tried starting my car one last time again. The engine roared back to life again. I headed for the garage again, and got there this time. I left the car with the mechanic, tools and all, and told him what had happened. He told me he thought it was the fuel pump. I said I thought it was a fuel filter.
Nam and her friend were late for work and my university was in the opposite direction, so they took off and I waited for a yellow songtaew (public transportation; a pickup truck with two covered benches on the back) to come by. I got bored waiting for one to come, so I started walking down the highway in the direction of the university. It was already about 95° outside, and the sun was beating down on me. My shirt now just felt like paste covering my body. I waited and waited for a songtaew to come… Along this particular stretch of highway, called the bypass, there is no sizable shade to be seen in either direction. Home was only ten minutes walk away. I started to think that I should go home and get my scooter to go to work… But then I remembered the rear tire was flat and that two bicycle pumps in a row had failed and were unusable. The thought of this – how all things transportation-related were fucking me this very day – made me insanely angry in the hot hot sun, and I realized I was close to having a meltdown. At that moment, a yellow songtaew appeared at the intersection I had walked from, and I waved it down.
After work, we went to pick up the Crown and the mechanic said he couldn’t find any real problems except that it was low on gas, and the fuel filter was kinda blocked with something. He wouldn’t accept payment, except for the gas he put in. I told him I’d drive around and check it out.
Today, at least, the Crown felt normal again, which is great. The trick is going to be keeping her dependably normal.

