Nothing Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I've been called Willy Wonka (as well as asshole, fuckhead, shitface, and dumbfuck). I was recently asked if the chocolate factory that I work and live at is anything like from the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The answer is a huge, "No." It is nothing like Willy Wonka's factory.

In real life, the Oompa Loompas are extraordinarily hostile. Some have drug problems. Some are alcoholics. Few even show up to work on time. And if you ask them to do something, they get all bent out of shape. And their songs suck.

For instance, I played my little flute (the one that summons the Oompa Loompas), and asked, "Oompa Loompas, I accidentally spilled some chocolate on the floor. Will you clean it up please?" They sang me a song about how white people think they run the world, and how the Oompa Loompas will rise up and save the earth from the white people by savagely killing them all. Sure, they cleaned up the chocolate, but it took them a long time to do it. And I really could have done without the song.

And sometimes, when they're not being very original, they'll sing some song they think I haven't heard, and then claim it's their own--an original Oompa Loompa creation. I asked them to make a batch of chocolate, and they started singing a Beach Boys song. They thought they were being wise, but I said, "Uh...You're singing about California girls, and we're in Hawaii. And it's not even like I'm going to the beach today." So to make up for it, they sang me the theme song to Family Ties (the 80s television show). This did not make up for it, and I got a little upset. I called them all dumbass Oompa Loompa motherfuckers. That may not have been wise. All day today they made rude gestures, and I found obvious clues that they were planning to harm me (such as the shards of glass on top of my sandwich at lunch time, the stick of dynamite in the toilet, and the propane tanks they'd emptied into my apartment in the hopes that I'd light something). I'm afraid to go to sleep tonight.

We keep them on, though, because they're cheap labor and we can take the Oompa Loompa exemption on the 1120 Corporate Income Tax Return.

It's somewhat tough living in such a small town. I don't even live in the small town. I live in a suburb of Kailua-Kona, which in itself qualifies as a village in any other state. I'm amazed that they have their own radio stations, but you can hear radio stations in Maui. It doesn't matter, though, because they're all shit. They all play shitty music--either Hawaiian, commercial-laden mainstream alternative, or country. Some Hawaiian music is okay (not good, just barely tolerable). All the announcers are even bouncier and more annoying than on the mainland. And country--well, country just sucks no matter where you are. 88.1 apparently is Honolulu's NPR station. You can hear through the static just enough to know that it's an NPR station that you won't ever be able to listen to unless you fly to another fucking island.

I made macadamia nut butter today. I don't have a blender, and I really wanted to grind up some mac nuts so I could coat a fish fillet in it (rather than breading the fillet) and saute. I used my coffee grinder. And after a few seconds, I had slightly-coffee tasting macadamia nut butter. I'm kind of proud of myself, actually.

I have access to so many mac nuts. I must have eaten a pound of mac nuts today--just because I could. On the mainland, that's unheard of. It's so expensive to do that, but here, we use it in the candies and I end up eating them all the godamn time. I mean, I had enough to make mac nut butter and still have at least two pounds left laying around my kitchen. And if I finish the 2 pounds? I go get more. It's almost sickening.