Aloha!

No, we're not going to Hawai'i. (Though I wish we were!) We're having a luau. Well, the community we live in is having a luau.

 In other words, we're bracing ourselves for a Saturday filled to the brim with Hawaiian cultural appropriation and stereotypes. But I'm sure it will be fun, as long as we try to have fun with it, too. (I think we'll make a game of counting all the shaka being thrown around.)

That'd be "Hang Loose" to the mainlanders

In an effort to get involved and bring at least one authenticly Hawaiian thing (other than himself) to the luau, Scoob offered to make up some mixtapes of slack key, ukulele, and other Hawaiian tunage we have.

And somehow, in that exchange, I ended up cooking chicken for 160+ people. What, WHAT?

Of course, it's not even real luau food, just some breaded and fried chicken with a cloyingly sweet sauce with chunks of pineapple in it. You know, just toss in some pineapple and call it Hawaiian.

Yum!

I think I'll need to whip together some lomi lomi and see if I can't finally master the fine art of the Hawaiian macaroni salad. (The fine art is to add a ton of Best Foods and leave it the hell alone. But I never can—I always try to sneak in some mustard, or pickles, or celery.)