Post #177636 by midnite on Fri, Aug 5, 2005 5:06 PM

Alas, it's been "lost or broken". Sob, sniff... yeah right!

So my seemingly never-ending hunt for this elusive mug continues. I look to the heavens and offer respect, loyalty, and love,(on top of a renewed vow of dedictaion to the search), to my late parents that I will come through eventually. I shall find a Mahi Mahi mug for Grandma's ashes!

Some back story:

My family, although seemingly from an illutstrious line of pre-Revolutionary War Yankee colonists is actually deeply rooted in the South. Nay, my home calls to me, the fertile hills of Tennessee. We're Nashvillians through and through. Well, at least the good side of the family, the rest of them were horse thieves from Bohemia. Those folks give Gypsies a bad name, but Lordy I still love 'em, we're kin. Any who, I digress, back to the South. Dixie.

Grandmother midnite (Nananite) was a firecracker of a woman, versed in the Asian Arts of seduction (long story) and the inner workings of small-block Chevrolets. Nananite could drink like a sailor and swim like a bag of rocks, hence my aversion to snow skiing. She ate like she put it away in a hollow leg, we, actually she did have a prosthetic limb down there. I have the scars to prove it. Side note: never get between a drunk nana and her fried seafood platter, it only pisses 'em off something fierce. When the Phillip Morris dividend checks would come in, there's nothing Nananite liked more than to head down to that great Nashville Polynesian restaurant, Mahi Mahi.

Nana spent many a night closing the Mahi Mahi, running up huge tabs and hitting on several of the Korean dishwashers. One in particular, Ho Kim, had such "soft hands", according to Nana. As I grow to be a strong little midnite, I would push Nana down to the Mahi Mahi so she could imbibe in a few Scorpions and cruise the new dishwasher hires. There was nothing wrong with her phsyically, she just like to be pushed around by others. On the way back home, usually around 3 am, Nana would sing dirty limericks to me, always calling me her "little Mahi Mahi". Oh, the memories I have from those years, me pushing Nana home...and sometimes Ho Kim, too. One would be surprised at how much a little Korean weighs, but it built up my quads pushing those two home. Nana always had one for the road, drink, not dishwasher, and drank it out of a very Mahi Mahi Tiki mug.

Like so much in life, this tale has a bittersweet ending. Nana left us several years ago. She didn't die, not then, she just ran off to Seoul with yet another immigrant dishwasher. Death came a few years later at the hands of a smaller, but possessing suprisingly fine aim with a sidearm, jealous Korean woman. Shot dead in cold blood they said. Not me, I always thought it was hot-blooded love that done Nana in. Love gone bad.

So, Nana's ashes have been waiting for their final resting spot... a nice little Oceanic Arts Mahi Mahi mug. The same little mug from the Nashville Tiki spot that gave her so many fond memories and several dishwashing Koreans. I guess it, in a tangential sense, also gave her a .38 slug in the back. One could not underestimate my joy upon finding that eBay acution, and now my overwhelming sorrow the rare mug has been "lost or stolen". Damn luck, that.

Sometimes I feel cursed, cursed by some stronger power. A force with which one cannot reckon, cannot defeat. Blasted cursed powers that be! Damn them to hell, damn you all!!!

Ok, I feel a little better now. The search goes on, Nananite will rest in peace someday..... someday.

Grandma's dead! Forget it, Jake, it's Koreatown