*Based on True Events*
“Irasshaimase…Hai Kudasai…”
The eerie and repetitive greeting of the Japanese store clerks reached Berri’s ears, she nervously shifting from foot to foot as Swede looked over the wall diagram. “Have any ideas…?” She peeked over Swede’s shoulder in an attempt to decipher the map.
Swede shrugged and glanced back. “No clue…we’re completely lost.”
“Lovely…” Berri stared out the useless glass exit and mentally shot herself in the face. After all, it WAS her idea to come there. Sunshine City was a multi-leveled mall, renowned for its numerous floors and countless stores. Though Berri hated shopping, she had never been to Ikebukuro or the infamous “Sunshine City” and decided a trip with S.S., Lip Ring, and Swede would be a worthwhile adventure.
Well I got my worthwhile… The beginning of the trip had been safe enough. The group had arrived at the mock 34th street (which had nothing on Ikebukuro) and descended down a set of three escalators into Sunshine City. Though Berri was openly skeptical of shopping districts and spending money, she found herself entranced by the Japanese pastries and food stores galore. She had ignored the first hum of “Irasshaimase” because at the time she didn’t quite realize what it would mean for the group.
The third wave of Irasshaimase led the girls to a nail salon where they charged 1575en (about $15) for acrylic nails. Berri almost ran into a seat right then and there until she saw the fine print. Mainly the 1575en per nail. It added up to a sum so implausible Berri laughed herself away from the shop clerk. She found it strange that her parting words were also “Irasshaimase”…
The girls wandered past a cat themed theme park and bear stuffing locations, all the while being bombarded by “irasshaimase” from every direction, whether they were entering a store or just simply walking past. Upon the 40th case of the “mase’s” Berri knew something was up. She understood she was in a different country but the clerks weren’t bothering to address the people anymore, it was a saying by rote.
Clearly she had walked into the IraV1 Outbreak. And Sunshine City, being a self-contained City, would be a challenge to escape from.
Lip Ring pointed to their destination. “We’re trying to get here,” She pointed to the far side of the map. “We’ve tried this way and it’s a dead end so that leaves North, East, and West. Three more ways…”
“Why don’t we split up..?” suggested Berri weakly. It was a stupid idea, she was damn well aware of that. But college students traveling aboard weren’t supposed to stumble upon consumerist outbreaks and she refused to believe she had.
The group stared at her with narrowed eyes, each mentally communicating the obvious thought. She clearly wants to die first.
Swede broke the accusatory silence first. “How about we don’t do that and head to the exit. Ready?”
The other girls nodded with hesitation. S.S. exhaled and opened up the glass doors back into the hustle and bustle of Sunshine City. Irrashaimase immediately accosted their ears from all directions, the girls sprinting down the crowded hall of the taken consumers. Dodging past the Victorian dressed slaves to the City and the poor boyfriends dragged into shopping hell by their infected girlfriends, the group burst into the Japanese equivalent of Urban Outfitters.
Silence.
The girls came to a slow and treaded cautiously through the new area. Berri hesitated to continue further, she spotting a quirky outfit, just her type...she almost started to turn when she received a sharp nudge from Lip Ring.
“Don’t stop, you’ll get their attention.”
Too late.
“IrraSHAImaseeeeee….!!” Dragged out a shopping clerk immediately from nowhere.
Berri quickly turned in the opposite direction but the damage had been done. The clerk had noticed potentially prey and she would be damned if she didn’t get it. S.S. and Swede ran to an upward bound escalator and Berri started to follow. Lip Ring yanked her back and shouted up to the girls. “That’s the wrong way..!”
S.S. and Swede stared between each other as they rapidly gained distance away from safe haven. S.S. called down to Lip Ring. “How do we get back??”
“…I don’t know.” Responded Lip Ring ruefully.
S.S. and Swede shared one more look before disappearing out of Berri and Lip Ring’s viewpoint.
“Oh…shit.” Berri rolled her eyes and shook her head, aware again, that this was her fault. She and Lip Ring ran out of the store before the clerk could be a problem. Looking Lip Ring up and down, she arched a brow. “So…you know how to get out then?”
Lip Ring brushed her hair out of her face. “I have an idea…”
“We should just get out and wait for them and…” Berri trailed off.
“Rose flavored smoke break?” finished Lip Ring.
“Hai kudasai..!” The words left Berri’s mouth before she had time to stop the poisonous phrase. She slapped her hands over her mouth, knowing she couldn’t take back the damning response.
Lip Ring widened her eyes and took a step back. “You’re infected?!”
“I-”
“When? How?!”
Berri exhaled and begrudgingly extended her right hand. Opening her palm she revealed an aged bronze key styled necklace. She lowered her gaze to the floor. “…I didn’t want to, I didn’t, but I have a thing for key shaped ANYTHING. And it was only 310en…I didn’t know how to break it to the others.”
“Well…” Lip Ring widened her eyes before shrugging. “…I have a thing for key necklaces to, I understand that. But that’s no excuse..!” She moved to swat the item out of Berri’s hand.
Berri retracted the necklace from Lip Ring’s range. She grabbed the multiple trinkets attached to Lip Ring’s cell phone and pulled it from her pocket in an attempt to gain collateral. However, in the process, she also pulled out three plastic lip rings of various colors, each still in their package. The two friends shared a moment of stunned silence, the reality of the situation hitting Berri. She arched a brow. “It seems I’m not the only impulse spender-”
“My Phone…” Lip Ring crossed her arms and gave her the look, which was on par in wickedness in terms of the walk.
Berri tossed Lip Ring’s phone back to her and tapped her forehead in thought. “Okay…so it’s in OUR best interest to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible before we buy the mall.”
“True…but we should wait for Swede and S.S. or they’ll never escape…” commented Lip Ring.
“We don’t even know where they are-” It was just then Berri’s phone rang. The bubbly N.A.S.A song caught the attention of everyone formerly hypnotized by the shiny store lights, an invisible neon arrow now pointing to the compulsive spending duo. Berri immediately silenced her phone but couldn’t help unconsciously rolling her eyes at the trouble it caused. “Fuck me…”
*End Tale…seriously*
So if anything, this entry teaches us that being based on true events doesn’t make a story entirely true. Granted, this DID almost happen scene-for-scene and we did get lost in Sunshine City while trying to find the right way out. But it was a lot less undead vibe and probably a lot more hustle and bustle and irasshaimase which is a constant phrase said in varying tones by everyone in any place where you buy items.
It drove me insane enough where I decided to write a short story about it and even THEN, it feels pretty accurate. Because for foreigners, by the time you’re leaving the mall all you will know is Irasshaimase, Hai Kudasai, and a lightened wallet…
Until my next adventure,
~Berri
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Of Shrines, Wasted Wishes, and Lost Kitty Cats...
The title of this blog sounds like the beginning of what would be a wicked anime that completely rips off Inuyasha. And as a summation of my day, it would be kind of close…well…okay, that’s not quite true. I didn’t fall into a well and there was no sex God dog demon in my interesting Sunday. But everything DID play out like something from an RPG. Where oh where to begin…?
First of all, Hello, I am a Jidonhonbaiki addict. That certainly is a mouthful for “vending Machine” but I think I’ve spent roughly around, oh, I don’t know, at least 20-30 alone on “Fire” coffee or “Milk tea” or “Rainbow Boss”, anything caffeinated and surprising to get me through Japanese class. The reason why this comes up is during my day in Nagatoro (where we went to Iwadatami) I ran into a random vending machine and whipped out my wallet to pay…host dad stopped me halfway through that process and bought my drink for me. Aww…my family is really sweet.
Besides paying for my food and snacks, they took me to Iwadatami which is this hidden valley of tatami mat type rocks. They paid 1550en (about $15 american) for this 20 minute boat ride through a shallow watered valley and it was…amazing. I didn’t realize how much I missed being on the water until our large boat was gliding through the canyon, the occasional kayaker swish swashing their little plastic paddles besides us. I miss hearing the water, I miss being surrounded by pools of rippling blue, more importantly, I miss rowing a boat. I was a MAN woman in high school (okay, I kind of am still one now but that’s entirely moot) because of that, damn it! Maybe someday…
Anywho, we landed and host dad led the family through a Japanese market filled with wooden shoes, 2000en gentleman parasols, cone shaped wooden hats, salted fish on a stick, roasted chestnuts, key chains, and Japanese candies by the bucket load. I wanted everything (even the fish on a stick). But sadly, though I told myself I would “budget” (such a foreign word) it has been almost impossible doing so and it doesn’t help that I somehow need to get a new charger. UGH. So I did cave and buy an item or two…but I love Roofie to death (my pet toy snake) and that’s all that matters! And if it were a REAL snake the name would be justified. God forbid she bit someone; they’d wake up 12hours later in a hospital bed and I’d be there with my snake around my neck like, “Yeah, you totally got Roofied.”
It would be awesome.
*ahem* Loser moment aside (haha) we marched uphill by a crazed shouting Nihonjin and to this Great White Shrine where I presume you either make wishes or say your prayers after tossing in tribute coins. In the back of my mind I had a snarky prayer and I watched as my host family paid their respects. My host dad threw in coins for me and told me how to do the Japanese prayer thing. I clapped twice, bowed my head, and instead of wishing for good fortune or a peaceful semester I basically wished for a shit show without meaning to. It was the first thing that came to mind, “I want THAT”. Not even fucking “Pray for the Infidels” (which was the back of my mind thought). Pray for the infidels would basically mean if I were a hardcore religious nut that I’m praying for everyone else to get a clue and jump on the faith bandwagon…it’s a pretentious as hell wish but it would’ve been said in COMPLETE sarcasm. And it would’ve been better than THAT bullshit prayer.
I hoped that Japanese curses didn’t arrive from spontaneous bullshit whims and turned on my heel after my host family, desperately taking back that wish. I don’t want anything, that’s hardly the case. But my hangover does, my hangover wants everything, it’s in cohorts with my lower half (I swears).
We eventually returned home and a few hours later I’m called down for dinner. My host mom puts out (what I presumed) were three hard boiled eggs, a bowl of rice, and three empty bowls. Interesting. Host dad takes an egg and cracks it into the empty bowl. Okay, they’re not boiled? Host mom does the same. Where is this going? She motions for ME to crack an egg into a bowl while host dad is putting soy sauce in his raw egg. Oh…we’re eating raw eggs tonight? Is that what we’re doing?
Fuck that.
Yeah, I know, I’m supposed to immerse myself into the culture and my parents are in the 60s range so god knows they’ve been doing this for years, yaddi yadda. But America corrupted me and I have a stigma against eating an uncooked egg, nonetheless, mixing it with my rice, which I LOVE to death. For the first time since I’ve been in Japan I declined a dish. I could try Natou, sure (which is…imagine someone soaked beans in sake for a month and then someone You HATE jizzed into the dish twice and topped it off with Elmer’s glue…that’s exactly what that is, enjoy) but I reach my limit with raw eggs and BBQed Testicle. Those are just…kind of hell no’s. Host mom was fine with that and made me egg and sausage instead and after dinner I thought I would eat my fruits, shower, and then bed.
Until I got that text message.
It wasn’t even a TEXT message because my phone can’t get with the Japanese email system yet but luckily Swiss put the subject matter of “Abandoned cats?” Naturally I responded, “I don’t know what the fuck that said, what are you talking about dear?” (without the fuck of course) and she explained to me in text I could read that there were baby kittens outside of her window crying for days and she wanted to play Rescue Rangers. I had a towel I conveniently brought from America and figured I could do something to help.
And so it began…
I got dressed quickly and even though we’re not supposed to leave the house after dinner, I said many apologies as I explained in broken Japanenglish that I was going to “save” the koneko (baby kittens) and I would hopefully be back shortly. Shortly translates to 2hours in CP Time in case you were wondering but I don’t think host parents knew that at the time. I borrowed the bike and raced down to the train tracks and started cursing a storm because I left those bloody blue contacts in and god knows I wasn’t used to them yet (but I paid enough that I force those motherfuckers in every day regardless of how I’m feeling).
I meet up with Swiss and she shows me the box…and I swear, if I had a heart, it would’ve started to beat. There were three palm sized baby kittens who immediately started mewing a shit ton once they realized someone was there to listen. It was…incredibly precious. We transferred them to a bigger box and gave them my towel for warmth. We then called catman (classmate of ours obsessed with cats, among other things) for further instruction on how to feed/care for these kitties while we sped to the supermarket.
Objective One: Find fatty milk!
Easier said than done considering I don’t really read Japanese and though its not that hard to spot a cow on a carton of white liquid, it had to be fatty (read: whole). Luckily enough, I was obsessive compulsive enough to learn which one of the weird symbols meant “weight gain” and once Swiss ID’ed a carton, I was able to determine how useful it would be for the cause. Turns out, none of them would’ve been particularly helpful because baby kittens shouldn’t be fed cow milk (which makes sense on retrospect). Upon our hopes getting dashed we DASHED to the pet aisle and found milk with animals on it.
So…one could presume it was either painstakingly taken from a dog or cat’s nipples or its meant to be fed to dogs or cats. We hoped the latter and picked up a few cartons.
Objective Two: Locate Cleaning Cloth!
Again, you THINK this would be an easy task but again, I’m Japanese illiterate and though Swiss can definitely get by, she didn’t know much about the layout of the store. We swept up and down those aisles like crazy determined foreigners and eventually found ourselves by the baby aisle. I made that speculation because there were images of babies on big plastic packages and I don’t care what kind of odd fetishes there are in Japan, there was NO WAY I could misinterpret that aisle to be a lifestyle choice.
*isignoringthatdiaperfetishesexist*
No way. We head down that aisle and find the cheapest wipes available. Because what we would be doing is cleaning the kittens up…and then wiping their assholes to encourage them to (hopefully) take a dump after we (somehow) fed them. Which made me feel kind of bad. I mean, to go from poor and starving to having some human rub a cold cloth against my ass until I use the bathroom? Way to shit on my life. Mental discomfort aside, we bought the clothes and figured those bishes would have to man the hell up….
Objective Three: Feed the Pussies!
(Oh, who didn’t see that title coming? I’m too predictable for that to have been anything else.) We return to the kitties prepared to feed them with Swiss’s great idea. She bought a pair of gloves and figured if we cut a hole in each fingertip, we could feed them all at once. I thought it was brilliant…and then I opened the gloves…the cloth gloves.
Huh. Swiss and I were suddenly extremely skeptical of her amazing idea but we (stupidly) tried to fill the glove with milk. I mean, just because its cloth, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work, right? No, that’s EXACTLY what it means because it’s FUCKING CLOTH. Kitten Milk goes everywhere and this poor little pussy is whining like hell because now, not only is it cold and hungry, but it’s covered in milk.
Dilemma. Swiss and I stand there, tapping our feet in the twilight wondering what our best course of action would be. We decide one of us should ride toRivendale Matsumoto and try to find something to properly feed the kittens with. I consider it because it IS my bike but I knew Swiss could navigate the area a lot better than me and since she spoke Japanese a lot better, I let her ride off into the darkness.
Which left me with the kittens. Mewing loudly. In a sketchy Japanese parking lot. Oh dear. I made myself comfortable by the crying little bastards and then a curious teenager stuck her head out and came over. I’m guessing she asked what was up and I explained as best as I could they were “tree in a box” in trouble. Then an older Japanese lady comes over to ask me what’s up. Along with another woman. Of course all speaking Japanese and probably wondering what my foreign ass was doing in a parking lot with baby kittens…I said what I could:
“Matsumoto de tomodachi ni ikimasu…ano” *My friend went to matsumoto…uh*
“Koneko wa…mono wa…taberu…sashirimasu? Can never remember that verb…” *She’s looking for a thing to EAT the kittens.*
Excuse the HELL out of me but I never learned how to say “to feed” so I had to settle with the closest thing. I’m hoping they didn’t interpret me literally and presumed we were going to feast on the flesh of the innocent tonight. If they DID interpret it that way it must be nothing new of foreigner behavior because they all kind of nodded their head and smiled. Okay…
Several awkward minutes later, Swiss FINALLY returns with Tracy (from the Tray-J coupling) in tow. Tracy lives in the neighborhood and decided she’d lend a hand in kitty cat care. Amazing. Swiss pulls out a bottle with a weird baby bottle top and after wrapping a cloth around it to make it more…cloth nipple like, we decide to try and feed kitten number one.
Kitten number one wouldn’t shut the fuck up and kept on meowing in protest. This made it easier for Tracy to shove the bottle opening into its mouth. Its survival instinct kicked in and it began sucking for a few seconds before moving the bottle from its mouth. I was impressed/pleased with this kitten and bestowed the title of “Darwin” upon it.
Next came “Darkie” or “Blackie” as I so lovingly called it. No, I’m not being ironic and yes, it is a black kitten. We tried feeding this meowing bastard but it fought like HELL before finally getting a mouthful of milk. Thus it received the nickname “Negrito Ceasar”. Ceasar, because he didn’t listen to the warning he got and ended up getting killed. Negrito clearly wants to die because it keeps on bitching despite us doing our best to be sweethearts. Whatever.
Finally, we reach for the quiet kitten with the broken tail. Instead of meowing in protest like its brethren, with its opening eyes it shied the bottle away, keeping its mouth shut oh so tightly. Smart bastard. Or stupid as hell depending on how you want to look at it. We had to settle for smearing milk across its mouth and once it took a lick, we rammed that mother in. But Shizuka (quiet) wasn’t down for that shit and clawed us immediately. WHY do they have claws at birth again? It’s like they’re born to be evil…
Commentary aside, we clean up the kittens and the spilled milk everywhere and we come up with a feeding schedule for our little babies. Swiss takes them inside her house for the night and Tracy and I head home. Which would have been fine except I can’t ride my bike and talk to another person. Tracy discovered this the amusing way when I was turning my head to talk to her and rode into a bush…just slowly but surely crashed into a bush. She laughed for a minute and change and the moment warranted it.
Because who the fuck rides into a bush T_T?
And I’m ending this long entry on that note. Cause clearly I made it home (I AM typing this entry and all)…
First of all, Hello, I am a Jidonhonbaiki addict. That certainly is a mouthful for “vending Machine” but I think I’ve spent roughly around, oh, I don’t know, at least 20-30 alone on “Fire” coffee or “Milk tea” or “Rainbow Boss”, anything caffeinated and surprising to get me through Japanese class. The reason why this comes up is during my day in Nagatoro (where we went to Iwadatami) I ran into a random vending machine and whipped out my wallet to pay…host dad stopped me halfway through that process and bought my drink for me. Aww…my family is really sweet.
Besides paying for my food and snacks, they took me to Iwadatami which is this hidden valley of tatami mat type rocks. They paid 1550en (about $15 american) for this 20 minute boat ride through a shallow watered valley and it was…amazing. I didn’t realize how much I missed being on the water until our large boat was gliding through the canyon, the occasional kayaker swish swashing their little plastic paddles besides us. I miss hearing the water, I miss being surrounded by pools of rippling blue, more importantly, I miss rowing a boat. I was a MAN woman in high school (okay, I kind of am still one now but that’s entirely moot) because of that, damn it! Maybe someday…
Anywho, we landed and host dad led the family through a Japanese market filled with wooden shoes, 2000en gentleman parasols, cone shaped wooden hats, salted fish on a stick, roasted chestnuts, key chains, and Japanese candies by the bucket load. I wanted everything (even the fish on a stick). But sadly, though I told myself I would “budget” (such a foreign word) it has been almost impossible doing so and it doesn’t help that I somehow need to get a new charger. UGH. So I did cave and buy an item or two…but I love Roofie to death (my pet toy snake) and that’s all that matters! And if it were a REAL snake the name would be justified. God forbid she bit someone; they’d wake up 12hours later in a hospital bed and I’d be there with my snake around my neck like, “Yeah, you totally got Roofied.”
It would be awesome.
*ahem* Loser moment aside (haha) we marched uphill by a crazed shouting Nihonjin and to this Great White Shrine where I presume you either make wishes or say your prayers after tossing in tribute coins. In the back of my mind I had a snarky prayer and I watched as my host family paid their respects. My host dad threw in coins for me and told me how to do the Japanese prayer thing. I clapped twice, bowed my head, and instead of wishing for good fortune or a peaceful semester I basically wished for a shit show without meaning to. It was the first thing that came to mind, “I want THAT”. Not even fucking “Pray for the Infidels” (which was the back of my mind thought). Pray for the infidels would basically mean if I were a hardcore religious nut that I’m praying for everyone else to get a clue and jump on the faith bandwagon…it’s a pretentious as hell wish but it would’ve been said in COMPLETE sarcasm. And it would’ve been better than THAT bullshit prayer.
I hoped that Japanese curses didn’t arrive from spontaneous bullshit whims and turned on my heel after my host family, desperately taking back that wish. I don’t want anything, that’s hardly the case. But my hangover does, my hangover wants everything, it’s in cohorts with my lower half (I swears).
We eventually returned home and a few hours later I’m called down for dinner. My host mom puts out (what I presumed) were three hard boiled eggs, a bowl of rice, and three empty bowls. Interesting. Host dad takes an egg and cracks it into the empty bowl. Okay, they’re not boiled? Host mom does the same. Where is this going? She motions for ME to crack an egg into a bowl while host dad is putting soy sauce in his raw egg. Oh…we’re eating raw eggs tonight? Is that what we’re doing?
Fuck that.
Yeah, I know, I’m supposed to immerse myself into the culture and my parents are in the 60s range so god knows they’ve been doing this for years, yaddi yadda. But America corrupted me and I have a stigma against eating an uncooked egg, nonetheless, mixing it with my rice, which I LOVE to death. For the first time since I’ve been in Japan I declined a dish. I could try Natou, sure (which is…imagine someone soaked beans in sake for a month and then someone You HATE jizzed into the dish twice and topped it off with Elmer’s glue…that’s exactly what that is, enjoy) but I reach my limit with raw eggs and BBQed Testicle. Those are just…kind of hell no’s. Host mom was fine with that and made me egg and sausage instead and after dinner I thought I would eat my fruits, shower, and then bed.
Until I got that text message.
It wasn’t even a TEXT message because my phone can’t get with the Japanese email system yet but luckily Swiss put the subject matter of “Abandoned cats?” Naturally I responded, “I don’t know what the fuck that said, what are you talking about dear?” (without the fuck of course) and she explained to me in text I could read that there were baby kittens outside of her window crying for days and she wanted to play Rescue Rangers. I had a towel I conveniently brought from America and figured I could do something to help.
And so it began…
I got dressed quickly and even though we’re not supposed to leave the house after dinner, I said many apologies as I explained in broken Japanenglish that I was going to “save” the koneko (baby kittens) and I would hopefully be back shortly. Shortly translates to 2hours in CP Time in case you were wondering but I don’t think host parents knew that at the time. I borrowed the bike and raced down to the train tracks and started cursing a storm because I left those bloody blue contacts in and god knows I wasn’t used to them yet (but I paid enough that I force those motherfuckers in every day regardless of how I’m feeling).
I meet up with Swiss and she shows me the box…and I swear, if I had a heart, it would’ve started to beat. There were three palm sized baby kittens who immediately started mewing a shit ton once they realized someone was there to listen. It was…incredibly precious. We transferred them to a bigger box and gave them my towel for warmth. We then called catman (classmate of ours obsessed with cats, among other things) for further instruction on how to feed/care for these kitties while we sped to the supermarket.
Objective One: Find fatty milk!
Easier said than done considering I don’t really read Japanese and though its not that hard to spot a cow on a carton of white liquid, it had to be fatty (read: whole). Luckily enough, I was obsessive compulsive enough to learn which one of the weird symbols meant “weight gain” and once Swiss ID’ed a carton, I was able to determine how useful it would be for the cause. Turns out, none of them would’ve been particularly helpful because baby kittens shouldn’t be fed cow milk (which makes sense on retrospect). Upon our hopes getting dashed we DASHED to the pet aisle and found milk with animals on it.
So…one could presume it was either painstakingly taken from a dog or cat’s nipples or its meant to be fed to dogs or cats. We hoped the latter and picked up a few cartons.
Objective Two: Locate Cleaning Cloth!
Again, you THINK this would be an easy task but again, I’m Japanese illiterate and though Swiss can definitely get by, she didn’t know much about the layout of the store. We swept up and down those aisles like crazy determined foreigners and eventually found ourselves by the baby aisle. I made that speculation because there were images of babies on big plastic packages and I don’t care what kind of odd fetishes there are in Japan, there was NO WAY I could misinterpret that aisle to be a lifestyle choice.
*isignoringthatdiaperfetishesexist*
No way. We head down that aisle and find the cheapest wipes available. Because what we would be doing is cleaning the kittens up…and then wiping their assholes to encourage them to (hopefully) take a dump after we (somehow) fed them. Which made me feel kind of bad. I mean, to go from poor and starving to having some human rub a cold cloth against my ass until I use the bathroom? Way to shit on my life. Mental discomfort aside, we bought the clothes and figured those bishes would have to man the hell up….
Objective Three: Feed the Pussies!
(Oh, who didn’t see that title coming? I’m too predictable for that to have been anything else.) We return to the kitties prepared to feed them with Swiss’s great idea. She bought a pair of gloves and figured if we cut a hole in each fingertip, we could feed them all at once. I thought it was brilliant…and then I opened the gloves…the cloth gloves.
Huh. Swiss and I were suddenly extremely skeptical of her amazing idea but we (stupidly) tried to fill the glove with milk. I mean, just because its cloth, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work, right? No, that’s EXACTLY what it means because it’s FUCKING CLOTH. Kitten Milk goes everywhere and this poor little pussy is whining like hell because now, not only is it cold and hungry, but it’s covered in milk.
Dilemma. Swiss and I stand there, tapping our feet in the twilight wondering what our best course of action would be. We decide one of us should ride to
Which left me with the kittens. Mewing loudly. In a sketchy Japanese parking lot. Oh dear. I made myself comfortable by the crying little bastards and then a curious teenager stuck her head out and came over. I’m guessing she asked what was up and I explained as best as I could they were “tree in a box” in trouble. Then an older Japanese lady comes over to ask me what’s up. Along with another woman. Of course all speaking Japanese and probably wondering what my foreign ass was doing in a parking lot with baby kittens…I said what I could:
“Matsumoto de tomodachi ni ikimasu…ano” *My friend went to matsumoto…uh*
“Koneko wa…mono wa…taberu…sashirimasu? Can never remember that verb…” *She’s looking for a thing to EAT the kittens.*
Excuse the HELL out of me but I never learned how to say “to feed” so I had to settle with the closest thing. I’m hoping they didn’t interpret me literally and presumed we were going to feast on the flesh of the innocent tonight. If they DID interpret it that way it must be nothing new of foreigner behavior because they all kind of nodded their head and smiled. Okay…
Several awkward minutes later, Swiss FINALLY returns with Tracy (from the Tray-J coupling) in tow. Tracy lives in the neighborhood and decided she’d lend a hand in kitty cat care. Amazing. Swiss pulls out a bottle with a weird baby bottle top and after wrapping a cloth around it to make it more…cloth nipple like, we decide to try and feed kitten number one.
Kitten number one wouldn’t shut the fuck up and kept on meowing in protest. This made it easier for Tracy to shove the bottle opening into its mouth. Its survival instinct kicked in and it began sucking for a few seconds before moving the bottle from its mouth. I was impressed/pleased with this kitten and bestowed the title of “Darwin” upon it.
Next came “Darkie” or “Blackie” as I so lovingly called it. No, I’m not being ironic and yes, it is a black kitten. We tried feeding this meowing bastard but it fought like HELL before finally getting a mouthful of milk. Thus it received the nickname “Negrito Ceasar”. Ceasar, because he didn’t listen to the warning he got and ended up getting killed. Negrito clearly wants to die because it keeps on bitching despite us doing our best to be sweethearts. Whatever.
Finally, we reach for the quiet kitten with the broken tail. Instead of meowing in protest like its brethren, with its opening eyes it shied the bottle away, keeping its mouth shut oh so tightly. Smart bastard. Or stupid as hell depending on how you want to look at it. We had to settle for smearing milk across its mouth and once it took a lick, we rammed that mother in. But Shizuka (quiet) wasn’t down for that shit and clawed us immediately. WHY do they have claws at birth again? It’s like they’re born to be evil…
Commentary aside, we clean up the kittens and the spilled milk everywhere and we come up with a feeding schedule for our little babies. Swiss takes them inside her house for the night and Tracy and I head home. Which would have been fine except I can’t ride my bike and talk to another person. Tracy discovered this the amusing way when I was turning my head to talk to her and rode into a bush…just slowly but surely crashed into a bush. She laughed for a minute and change and the moment warranted it.
Because who the fuck rides into a bush T_T?
And I’m ending this long entry on that note. Cause clearly I made it home (I AM typing this entry and all)…
Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Three W's
Before I address what exactly those are and WHY they hold any significance to this blog entry, I should note that I am almost completely hammered so this might not be as coherent as I imagine it. Granted, Microsoft word makes everything shiny for me and I am a decent drunk while writing but I am going to lose my trail of thought at least more than once (and considering my “draft” was just one paragraph of bitching about certain annoying things it means this is going to be a weird one).
Right. So first thing to address. I can has PHONE bitches! That grammatical mess was completely intentional but yeah, when our story last left off, Softbank had properly drilled me in the ass and then my Sim card Dealer couldn’t help me out. What was a poor chick to do? Why, go to the Softbank Company with someone who spoke a fair amount of Japanese..! I went with Jan-chan to the Softbank store two train stops away and they were like “We’ll give you a sim card, it’s free. You just have to pay for the 3000Yen Prepaid card.”
Uhm. Fucking deal?? I took that shit in a minute and once I got a functional phone I realized I only had one thought. I really REALLY wanted the Soft Bank “representatives” to return to our school. And I would calmly walk up to the one lady in the group and SMACK her as HARD as humanly possible with my FUNCTIONAL SOFTBANK Phone! Then I would move onto that fucking asshole guy and smack him TWICE with his Softbank logo, the fucking con artists..! To think I almost paid 2000 extra for a free sim card? Fuck that shit. I was cursing like an American by the time I left that store…wait until I see those bastards again…
But I digress. I got a phone and exchanged numbers with people and ignoring the back to back tests I had Thursday and Friday, all seemed to be well with the world. Well, with the exception of this ONE asshole mosquito in my room that ate the hell out of me in a half hour time slot. It got both of my arms, my leg, and it stung my fucking EYELID. What mosquito DOES that?? I woke up at midnight pissed and itchy and turned on the lights to see that motherfucker chilling against my wall. I pulled a Jon and palmed killed it.
Never have I been more satisfied.
Of course, this is ignoring that the damage had already been done, my left eye was beginning to swell, and I had to take a Benadryl so I didn’t scratch my skin off in my sleep. Fucking sugoi. But I made it through Thursday and onto Friday not quite sure what my day would have in store. Originally, Lip ring and I were going to Power Hour (possibly with Open Throat) and then work our drunken asses in the direction of a club. But then Lip Ring got herself into a movie/date with an (I guess) cute Japanese guy and she was all about bagging that. Oh Asian fetishes…but yeah, since she was all about that I wasn’t sure what my evening would consist of since S.S. doesn’t drink and I wasn’t sure if Tray-J would be down.
Like they would ever NOT be.
After a particularly grueling test and three hours of Japanese (the last hour spent making sensei laugh…I get muy kicks from that) everyone congregates at lunch and Tray-J go to me wondering what’s the plan. I love being the ringleader. Unfortunately, I’m a poor one on short notice and I’m not sure WHAT exactly we should do since Power Hour requires shot glasses and a good stomach (both of which I am lacking). We settle on karaoke being a good idea (because it’s been a week and change) and we get a group of willing singers. I can deal with spending a mere 1000en…because that’s all I’d be spending, right?
Oh no! What’s this? Is my vagina thinking for me again?!
Yeah, so around 6pm after three (AMAZING) episodes of Dexter (the sexy serial killer who I want to do) the gang gathers round. Its Germany, Tray-J, Open Throat, Fuji (guy), Blasian (guy), and Swiss(girl). Of course these are symbolic representations of their names. They don’t have Diva movie stars naming them, don’t even worry about that…! But it’s the gang of us and after making a deceiving Pepsi vodka Slushie mix (for a 100en which is basically a dollar) Open Throat recommends a place for us to eat. The good news? It’s a nomihodai. The bad news? Nomihodai (all you can drink) is 1000en…
…plus you have to order and pay for two meals.
Well, fuck, that’s about 1500en NOT including the potential karaoke that may follow. I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that but then my vagina kicked me in the jeans and said “Follow these mofo’s around…most testosterone you will see in months.”
Me: But Va-jay-jay they’re all Unavailable-
VJJ: I will make you bleed RIGHT NOW.
With a mumble and a grumble I followed my extremely irrational vagina and went with the gang to the Nomihodai restaurant. I had already had my fill of pepsi and vodka so getting food was a struggle but I found a salmon/teriyaki/bacon/cheese/hot sauce pizza and a rice ball for cheap so that was swell. As soon as we got there Open Throat started ragging on me cause I was bitching about the beer. I ignored the impulse to stab him with my chop sticks and he had a nice moment and ordered me an ichigo(strawberry) sour. Which I deplored. I decided to actually READ the Japanese and ordered a Rime sour (Lime Sour).
Absolutely Amazing. Where else in the god damn world am I going to get sour liquor? I fell in love with the drink after two sips. And the good food helped too. But Open throat puts me (and everyone else really) to shame when it comes to downing drinks. It’s like when you have Jon around food. You turn around for ONE second, that shit will be gone. He chugged those drinks likes it fucking water—no kidding, he would OWN during a flip cup FULL cup match. He is AMAZING slash secretly my idol slash it’s such a waste of a talent for a straight GUY to have (repeating myself).
Halfway through the meal (and after multiple glances at my phone) I finally go “fuck it” and call Kyle. I’ve been trying to call him for a week now but he NEVER picks up (slash it never rings). Tonight, it rings. Tonight, he picked up. I fell backwards in my seat, squealing like a school girl. Tipsy and in bubbly cheer, I ran barefoot out thekaraoke (sober correction: restaurant) place to cry about how I missed his face (and him) and how I couldn’t wait to see him. I then noticed some of my group following me outside. I get confused but it turns out we’re leaving and for a minute Swiss was like, “You owe Open Throat 2000en.” I inwardly thought “I don’t owe him shit...!” but that’s because I’m a mentally crazed drinker. I catch up to the group of friends paying and thankfully (maybe) someone had dug in my wallet and fished out 2000en. Sweet. Somewhat. But we finished from Nomihodai (and call (Kyle) said he’d call me hungover manana) and we were at a good level of drunk and to my astonishment, we were going to do Karaoke. Oh shit, really?
Toki.Doki. Allow me to explain. We were going to karaoke, this is true. But Open’s throats friends were going to meet us there…and we were going to play Beer Pong at the karaoke place. Mad ghetto for the win…! We walk (literally) down the street to the karaoke place and so begins the festivities. It was a night of screaming System of a Down, Marilyn Manson, and Slipknot, all the while shaking it (on Open Throat’s demand) whenever Cali love came our way. It was fun (painful on the throat) and I met new Asian peoples.
[12 hours later and hungover]
(disclaimer:…hmm, so I fell asleep mid typing this entry but admittedly, it was pretty entertaining to read…though my rage/curse meter goes sky high when I’m fucked up out of my mind…and TokiDoki (sometimes/now&then) makes absolutely no sense in its context, I have no idea how I drunkenly justified that. I guess I’ll continue from where I left off though I don’t think it’ll be nearly as laughable, hahaha).
About halfway through Karaoke I noticed my purple lighter (which had been in circulation amongst the smokers) had gone M.I.A. I lost my drunken shit for two minutes because the lighter wasn’t exactly mine…? While living in Jon’s room for the summer I found a purple lighter with a red rose and I brought it with me to Nihon because I like to hold onto people through items (Kyle’s hoodie, Jam’s clothes, etc). So yes, bagging Jon’s lighter was me being as sentimental as humanly possible…and now it was gone. I searched the room then ran outside to see if the other smokers had taken it but no, they had their own 7/11 lighters…and laments apparently. And then I did that thing I do. You know, playing the role of the plotting but realistic 3rd person? I did that with the two other guys and it felt GREAT. I’m holding onto every guy/girl moment I get because once I return to the states those are going to be zero to nil haha…
That was fun for awhile but then it hit me the lighter was gone. And I was in a sad state…but I didn’t dwell too long on that as my maternal instincts switched on the moment I returned to the karaoke room. Germany doesn’t get fucked up but when he does, he gets fucked up. Unbeknownst to most he had vommed in a soda cup and he was trying to vom into a plastic cup; he looked quite ghastly..! But it wasn’t surprising since we DID just come from “all you can drink” and all he ate was chicken on a stick and some radish dish. If that had ended anything but shit show status I would have to work on my future child getting German genes…
Any who, I worked on trying to ease his “blahness” (since I’d had much practice in the summer) and after doing what I could, returned to my seat with the occasional worried glance to Germany. My other moments were spent on She Wolf (with Swiss), recording AJ (of the Tray-J) screaming Slip Knot with Open throat’s piping in and the BEST moment? Tray-J singing A whole new World and turning it into a metal song?
Fuck. YES.
Shame I didn’t record THAT moment…too caught up in my Tequila Tonic and then my poor man’s OJ and Vodka. I would come to regret those drinking choices much later. But before I go into THAT sad story..! We finished up at the karaoke place and went our separate ways…for the most part. Fuji, Tray-J, Germany and Swiss head home to catch last train and that leaves us with Open Throat, Blasian, and Open Throat’s three other friends.
Open Throat decides he’s not nearly fucked up enough to make the bike ride home and goes into a bar with his friend. I become slightly concerned (because I don’t want him riding into a parked car) and ask him if he should be doing that. He mumbles how it’ll be all great in the stumble fuck language and then a short dialogue ensues:
Him: This meal I had was great...!
Me: Oh? What was it?
Him: I have no idea…
Me: Wow that was helpful-
Him: You should get the same thing..!
Me: I don’t even know what it is.
Him: But its really good…
Me: So I should get it and pay for it…so YOU can eat it for me T_T”
Him: Kinda like that…hey *tells the bartender I want the same thing in Asian*
Me: What the fuck?! I don’t want to pay for that shit.
Him: You’ll pay half.
Me: I don’t even know what the FUCK I’m ordering T_T!! *watches the bartender deep fry SOMETHING*…*mental thought*…I’m going to smack him in his pretty god damn face. Pretty? WAAAAAY too much liquor-
*deep fried four dollar dish worth $2 in quantity arrives*
Me: Huh…*takes a chicken nugget thing which is actually like a mac&cheese bite from the cooler* …well fuck.
Him: Huh..Huuuuuuuh *knowing smile*.
Me: God damn it..okay, it’s kinda good. *eats yellow thing* Oh my fucking god, is this squid? YES. Okay, you win, it was worth it –why does alcohol make everyone around me pretty? *eats more to stop being distracted*
So I paid two dollars for half a plate worth of deep fried squid, a cheese bite, and zucchini fingers. It was worth it but my initial hesitation lied in the fact that I was eating FRIED food in an attempt to stave a potentially wicked hangover. And before that I had gotten a rice ball and a weird loaf of bread (which I would woefully come to find out contained massive amounts of cool whip) because Japan, though amazing, sucks. It SUCKS if you have a drinking lifestyle in Japan. Raw fish and seaweed is NOT going to hold any liquor. No, it is going to fucking LAUGH at you while coming up in the morning. Fuck drinking, far more importantly, fuck drinking in Japan! I’ll find another way to get my shits and giggles if all it comes down to is reality distortions and morning voms.
By the way, that was totally not a negative nancy moment. That was a reality check, byah! But we finish up at the bar, one of Open throat’s friends walk me home (more importantly, I had a moment of speaking Japanese automatically and correctly, what what?!) and my host mom is still awake. Aww…awake at 12:30 at night and waiting for me? She reminds me of my aunt with my cousins. She ushers me into the shower (because that’s really the first thing my drunk ass wants to do) and I shower all the while mumbling the earlier diatribe I started my (draft) blog with (which I won’t post for Just In Case reasonry). I passed out writing this…and then the morning.
OH the morning. I haven’t had a hangover THAT bad since…since graduation in May. And Kat saw me the night of graduation, she can vouch for how god damn drunk I was then. Needless to say, I was a LOT drunker than I thought I was and it came back to ream me in the face around 7am. I did the whole toilet thing but when that stopped working, I got the fuck over myself and used the trash can. And since I (stupidly) assumed there wouldn’t be ice in the house, I drank water and threw up some more…this process continued on (painfully) for three hours. Which is around when I decided I would have to tell host mom I couldn’t make it down for breakfast let alone eat a huge lunch.
I get downstairs and bump into host dad first. He laughs at my general state of disarray and asks if I had a little bit too much last night. Well, if he already knows, no point in lyin’. I nod my head miserably and he chuckles some more. Awesome. Though it really is, if I had a host child who got all willy-nilly fucked up and showed it in the morning, I’d laugh too. I then ask (with not much hope) if there was ice in the house.
Fucking DUH. Just because it LOOKS like the shire, doesn’t mean it IS the Shire. Host mom points me in the direction of the freezer (which is a silver draw below the fridge) and I could’ve pissed glass. I went through three hours of POINTLESS suffering because I am clearly an ignorant asshole T_T”! Gathering my bowl of ice, I escaped upstairs and began munching away at the hangover cure and now…now I feel LEGIT daijoubu. Not that “I’m going to say daijoubu so this bitch doesn’t realize I threw up in her shower, har har har.”
Wow, I’m never going to get over that. Huh. But phone calls from Blonde <3 and friends(?) aside, I must be on my merry way. I have friends to meet and text message plans to receive. Oh, and as for the three W’s (thought I forgot, huh)? The three W’s (which I craved all of last night) are Weed, Wine, and Whoa (which is not to be mistaken for YAY). Weed is a neveruary (a fucking actress had a press conference in tears cause she was caught smoking weed. First of all, where the fuck do you think you are? This is not the land of the free roaming cocaine snorting commando going bitches…I could not feel as bad as I should have, that was just stupid), wine would’ve been me still being hungover and Whoa requires a hotel.
The Three W’s? They’re my forbidden fruits for the next three months. Exciting loves, absolutely.
Right. So first thing to address. I can has PHONE bitches! That grammatical mess was completely intentional but yeah, when our story last left off, Softbank had properly drilled me in the ass and then my Sim card Dealer couldn’t help me out. What was a poor chick to do? Why, go to the Softbank Company with someone who spoke a fair amount of Japanese..! I went with Jan-chan to the Softbank store two train stops away and they were like “We’ll give you a sim card, it’s free. You just have to pay for the 3000Yen Prepaid card.”
Uhm. Fucking deal?? I took that shit in a minute and once I got a functional phone I realized I only had one thought. I really REALLY wanted the Soft Bank “representatives” to return to our school. And I would calmly walk up to the one lady in the group and SMACK her as HARD as humanly possible with my FUNCTIONAL SOFTBANK Phone! Then I would move onto that fucking asshole guy and smack him TWICE with his Softbank logo, the fucking con artists..! To think I almost paid 2000 extra for a free sim card? Fuck that shit. I was cursing like an American by the time I left that store…wait until I see those bastards again…
But I digress. I got a phone and exchanged numbers with people and ignoring the back to back tests I had Thursday and Friday, all seemed to be well with the world. Well, with the exception of this ONE asshole mosquito in my room that ate the hell out of me in a half hour time slot. It got both of my arms, my leg, and it stung my fucking EYELID. What mosquito DOES that?? I woke up at midnight pissed and itchy and turned on the lights to see that motherfucker chilling against my wall. I pulled a Jon and palmed killed it.
Never have I been more satisfied.
Of course, this is ignoring that the damage had already been done, my left eye was beginning to swell, and I had to take a Benadryl so I didn’t scratch my skin off in my sleep. Fucking sugoi. But I made it through Thursday and onto Friday not quite sure what my day would have in store. Originally, Lip ring and I were going to Power Hour (possibly with Open Throat) and then work our drunken asses in the direction of a club. But then Lip Ring got herself into a movie/date with an (I guess) cute Japanese guy and she was all about bagging that. Oh Asian fetishes…but yeah, since she was all about that I wasn’t sure what my evening would consist of since S.S. doesn’t drink and I wasn’t sure if Tray-J would be down.
Like they would ever NOT be.
After a particularly grueling test and three hours of Japanese (the last hour spent making sensei laugh…I get muy kicks from that) everyone congregates at lunch and Tray-J go to me wondering what’s the plan. I love being the ringleader. Unfortunately, I’m a poor one on short notice and I’m not sure WHAT exactly we should do since Power Hour requires shot glasses and a good stomach (both of which I am lacking). We settle on karaoke being a good idea (because it’s been a week and change) and we get a group of willing singers. I can deal with spending a mere 1000en…because that’s all I’d be spending, right?
Oh no! What’s this? Is my vagina thinking for me again?!
Yeah, so around 6pm after three (AMAZING) episodes of Dexter (the sexy serial killer who I want to do) the gang gathers round. Its Germany, Tray-J, Open Throat, Fuji (guy), Blasian (guy), and Swiss(girl). Of course these are symbolic representations of their names. They don’t have Diva movie stars naming them, don’t even worry about that…! But it’s the gang of us and after making a deceiving Pepsi vodka Slushie mix (for a 100en which is basically a dollar) Open Throat recommends a place for us to eat. The good news? It’s a nomihodai. The bad news? Nomihodai (all you can drink) is 1000en…
…plus you have to order and pay for two meals.
Well, fuck, that’s about 1500en NOT including the potential karaoke that may follow. I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that but then my vagina kicked me in the jeans and said “Follow these mofo’s around…most testosterone you will see in months.”
Me: But Va-jay-jay they’re all Unavailable-
VJJ: I will make you bleed RIGHT NOW.
With a mumble and a grumble I followed my extremely irrational vagina and went with the gang to the Nomihodai restaurant. I had already had my fill of pepsi and vodka so getting food was a struggle but I found a salmon/teriyaki/bacon/cheese/hot sauce pizza and a rice ball for cheap so that was swell. As soon as we got there Open Throat started ragging on me cause I was bitching about the beer. I ignored the impulse to stab him with my chop sticks and he had a nice moment and ordered me an ichigo(strawberry) sour. Which I deplored. I decided to actually READ the Japanese and ordered a Rime sour (Lime Sour).
Absolutely Amazing. Where else in the god damn world am I going to get sour liquor? I fell in love with the drink after two sips. And the good food helped too. But Open throat puts me (and everyone else really) to shame when it comes to downing drinks. It’s like when you have Jon around food. You turn around for ONE second, that shit will be gone. He chugged those drinks likes it fucking water—no kidding, he would OWN during a flip cup FULL cup match. He is AMAZING slash secretly my idol slash it’s such a waste of a talent for a straight GUY to have (repeating myself).
Halfway through the meal (and after multiple glances at my phone) I finally go “fuck it” and call Kyle. I’ve been trying to call him for a week now but he NEVER picks up (slash it never rings). Tonight, it rings. Tonight, he picked up. I fell backwards in my seat, squealing like a school girl. Tipsy and in bubbly cheer, I ran barefoot out the
Toki.Doki. Allow me to explain. We were going to karaoke, this is true. But Open’s throats friends were going to meet us there…and we were going to play Beer Pong at the karaoke place. Mad ghetto for the win…! We walk (literally) down the street to the karaoke place and so begins the festivities. It was a night of screaming System of a Down, Marilyn Manson, and Slipknot, all the while shaking it (on Open Throat’s demand) whenever Cali love came our way. It was fun (painful on the throat) and I met new Asian peoples.
[12 hours later and hungover]
(disclaimer:…hmm, so I fell asleep mid typing this entry but admittedly, it was pretty entertaining to read…though my rage/curse meter goes sky high when I’m fucked up out of my mind…and TokiDoki (sometimes/now&then) makes absolutely no sense in its context, I have no idea how I drunkenly justified that. I guess I’ll continue from where I left off though I don’t think it’ll be nearly as laughable, hahaha).
About halfway through Karaoke I noticed my purple lighter (which had been in circulation amongst the smokers) had gone M.I.A. I lost my drunken shit for two minutes because the lighter wasn’t exactly mine…? While living in Jon’s room for the summer I found a purple lighter with a red rose and I brought it with me to Nihon because I like to hold onto people through items (Kyle’s hoodie, Jam’s clothes, etc). So yes, bagging Jon’s lighter was me being as sentimental as humanly possible…and now it was gone. I searched the room then ran outside to see if the other smokers had taken it but no, they had their own 7/11 lighters…and laments apparently. And then I did that thing I do. You know, playing the role of the plotting but realistic 3rd person? I did that with the two other guys and it felt GREAT. I’m holding onto every guy/girl moment I get because once I return to the states those are going to be zero to nil haha…
That was fun for awhile but then it hit me the lighter was gone. And I was in a sad state…but I didn’t dwell too long on that as my maternal instincts switched on the moment I returned to the karaoke room. Germany doesn’t get fucked up but when he does, he gets fucked up. Unbeknownst to most he had vommed in a soda cup and he was trying to vom into a plastic cup; he looked quite ghastly..! But it wasn’t surprising since we DID just come from “all you can drink” and all he ate was chicken on a stick and some radish dish. If that had ended anything but shit show status I would have to work on my future child getting German genes…
Any who, I worked on trying to ease his “blahness” (since I’d had much practice in the summer) and after doing what I could, returned to my seat with the occasional worried glance to Germany. My other moments were spent on She Wolf (with Swiss), recording AJ (of the Tray-J) screaming Slip Knot with Open throat’s piping in and the BEST moment? Tray-J singing A whole new World and turning it into a metal song?
Fuck. YES.
Shame I didn’t record THAT moment…too caught up in my Tequila Tonic and then my poor man’s OJ and Vodka. I would come to regret those drinking choices much later. But before I go into THAT sad story..! We finished up at the karaoke place and went our separate ways…for the most part. Fuji, Tray-J, Germany and Swiss head home to catch last train and that leaves us with Open Throat, Blasian, and Open Throat’s three other friends.
Open Throat decides he’s not nearly fucked up enough to make the bike ride home and goes into a bar with his friend. I become slightly concerned (because I don’t want him riding into a parked car) and ask him if he should be doing that. He mumbles how it’ll be all great in the stumble fuck language and then a short dialogue ensues:
Him: This meal I had was great...!
Me: Oh? What was it?
Him: I have no idea…
Me: Wow that was helpful-
Him: You should get the same thing..!
Me: I don’t even know what it is.
Him: But its really good…
Me: So I should get it and pay for it…so YOU can eat it for me T_T”
Him: Kinda like that…hey *tells the bartender I want the same thing in Asian*
Me: What the fuck?! I don’t want to pay for that shit.
Him: You’ll pay half.
Me: I don’t even know what the FUCK I’m ordering T_T!! *watches the bartender deep fry SOMETHING*…*mental thought*…I’m going to smack him in his pretty god damn face. Pretty? WAAAAAY too much liquor-
*deep fried four dollar dish worth $2 in quantity arrives*
Me: Huh…*takes a chicken nugget thing which is actually like a mac&cheese bite from the cooler* …well fuck.
Him: Huh..Huuuuuuuh *knowing smile*.
Me: God damn it..okay, it’s kinda good. *eats yellow thing* Oh my fucking god, is this squid? YES. Okay, you win, it was worth it –why does alcohol make everyone around me pretty? *eats more to stop being distracted*
So I paid two dollars for half a plate worth of deep fried squid, a cheese bite, and zucchini fingers. It was worth it but my initial hesitation lied in the fact that I was eating FRIED food in an attempt to stave a potentially wicked hangover. And before that I had gotten a rice ball and a weird loaf of bread (which I would woefully come to find out contained massive amounts of cool whip) because Japan, though amazing, sucks. It SUCKS if you have a drinking lifestyle in Japan. Raw fish and seaweed is NOT going to hold any liquor. No, it is going to fucking LAUGH at you while coming up in the morning. Fuck drinking, far more importantly, fuck drinking in Japan! I’ll find another way to get my shits and giggles if all it comes down to is reality distortions and morning voms.
By the way, that was totally not a negative nancy moment. That was a reality check, byah! But we finish up at the bar, one of Open throat’s friends walk me home (more importantly, I had a moment of speaking Japanese automatically and correctly, what what?!) and my host mom is still awake. Aww…awake at 12:30 at night and waiting for me? She reminds me of my aunt with my cousins. She ushers me into the shower (because that’s really the first thing my drunk ass wants to do) and I shower all the while mumbling the earlier diatribe I started my (draft) blog with (which I won’t post for Just In Case reasonry). I passed out writing this…and then the morning.
OH the morning. I haven’t had a hangover THAT bad since…since graduation in May. And Kat saw me the night of graduation, she can vouch for how god damn drunk I was then. Needless to say, I was a LOT drunker than I thought I was and it came back to ream me in the face around 7am. I did the whole toilet thing but when that stopped working, I got the fuck over myself and used the trash can. And since I (stupidly) assumed there wouldn’t be ice in the house, I drank water and threw up some more…this process continued on (painfully) for three hours. Which is around when I decided I would have to tell host mom I couldn’t make it down for breakfast let alone eat a huge lunch.
I get downstairs and bump into host dad first. He laughs at my general state of disarray and asks if I had a little bit too much last night. Well, if he already knows, no point in lyin’. I nod my head miserably and he chuckles some more. Awesome. Though it really is, if I had a host child who got all willy-nilly fucked up and showed it in the morning, I’d laugh too. I then ask (with not much hope) if there was ice in the house.
Fucking DUH. Just because it LOOKS like the shire, doesn’t mean it IS the Shire. Host mom points me in the direction of the freezer (which is a silver draw below the fridge) and I could’ve pissed glass. I went through three hours of POINTLESS suffering because I am clearly an ignorant asshole T_T”! Gathering my bowl of ice, I escaped upstairs and began munching away at the hangover cure and now…now I feel LEGIT daijoubu. Not that “I’m going to say daijoubu so this bitch doesn’t realize I threw up in her shower, har har har.”
Wow, I’m never going to get over that. Huh. But phone calls from Blonde <3 and friends(?) aside, I must be on my merry way. I have friends to meet and text message plans to receive. Oh, and as for the three W’s (thought I forgot, huh)? The three W’s (which I craved all of last night) are Weed, Wine, and Whoa (which is not to be mistaken for YAY). Weed is a neveruary (a fucking actress had a press conference in tears cause she was caught smoking weed. First of all, where the fuck do you think you are? This is not the land of the free roaming cocaine snorting commando going bitches…I could not feel as bad as I should have, that was just stupid), wine would’ve been me still being hungover and Whoa requires a hotel.
The Three W’s? They’re my forbidden fruits for the next three months. Exciting loves, absolutely.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Black Crane versus Snow Hawk: Coming to a Theatre near you!
Though the title is confusing and misleading, it’s in reference to my future profile picture granted Tracy is ballsie enough to post it. We pretty much proved we’re possibly the biggest creative type dorks in Japan as her boyfriend shook his head shamefaced and took our picture. It has been awhile since I’ve updated this thing about antics in the Land of the Rising sun…not to say I’ve been lazy, but things have been rather tame. Where to start..? Guess from Epiphany Thursdays, Bouken (adventure) Fridays, and Lazy Saturdays.
I realized about halfway through Literature class several things about being in TIU. For one, while the 3hr daily morning dose of Japanese (with Japanese Only strictly enforced) is extremely tiring on the mind, it IS effective. Granted, I’m a level below where I technically should be but I’d rather relearn the basics and learn new things versus pretend I know everything and struggle epically. But yes, though it’s repetitive, it’s useful. Everything else…
…not so much. If it weren’t for the shitload of financial aid covering my educational expenses at TIU, I’d probably return to the US. My THREE HOUR STRAIGHT History and Literature class add up to 6hours a week of my life I will never get back, slowly consumed by the tedious system. For one thing, I’ve already DONE History of Modern Japan but it’s the lesser of two evils because I don’t want to do Econ or Politics. What troubles me is that it is three hours of Lecturing.
Not discussion.
Not group debates.
LECTURING. I might as well whip out a recorder and kick the fuck back for all that’s worth. Literature somehow manages to trump that. I mean, it’s not a boring class per se…but it’s ACTUALLY the history of Japanese literature and the teacher talks AT us about nothing for three hours. It is painful. How painful?
Glad.
You.
Asked.
Generally when I take notes, I try to write down everything said in class. Here’s an example of the eloquence that is my Lit notes:
“OH YES its another POWERPOINT. ALRIGHT!!!
People didn’t think Japan had a stone age and then someone dug deeper and they find all sorts of things.
(the above sentence is the teacher’s EXACT words)
Lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of t
(see that? That’s my mental break an hour into the class)
Things are becoming organized around central bodies and central figures and things loosely associated with blah blah are apart of larger routes and this i
(no, he didn’t finish the thought. Therefore, I didn’t finish the sentence)
They are the size of a large cathedral, these gaping key holes…large amounts of stuff piled into shapes
(…I think I was talking to Perla and in between that, heard this phrase?)
According to these Japanese characters there’s a painting of mainland influences…what??
Today we are learning about hiragana…what??? I see Kanji, I see France, I see someone eating Lance?
Hiragana came from temples…Oooooooh we’re talking about the ORIGIN of literature.
BACK TO WHATEVER THIS IS:
The beginning of the END…Blind people.
Mountain villages….”
…
Now. I’m aware I may not be the best student but I am a DAMN good note taker granted you give me something to work with. There was NOTHING to be taken from that lecture but notes on Japanese characters and opinions on poetry (which I didn’t bother writing down). Clearly this is supposed to be my joke semester because I can’t take this shiitake seriously. But enough of being a Debbie Downer. This is the last time I’ll pull out a negative Nancy blog, I promise.
Maybe. *ahem* Friday the same topic that always comes up came up. “What are we going to do? Duur Karaoke?” That’s not to represent anybody in particular but rather, a vast majority of us because our tired footsteps always lead us to those neon karaoke doors (and I’m so sure the Karaoke people love ourmoney faces). I decided a day before that I didn’t want to do that shit again. Sure, its fun, but I can’t always do karaoke like I have money, that’s just wasteful…and repetitive. So what I suggested to a few people is we go to the park and chill for awhile…with vodka. Wow, it’s just like being back at Oxy except publicly drinking and nothing to look forward to. Oh wait, what am I saying? Exactly like Oxy…well, at least I had Zeta but you get my drift.
Before the beginning of that EXCITING night, we (me and two of my other female friends) went into Kawagoe because I was in desperate need of a new pair of tights. I sadly found out the hard way that my size is not M-L in Japan. Because in Japan M-L stands for Mad Light. At least that’s what I came up with when I bought tights and they couldn’t go past my fat ass. No…my size in Japan is O. As in Light, Mad Light, Lar—oh-who-are-we-kidding-large-asians-don’t-exist, and O. For Obese. This size is a rarity among rarities in Japan and reserved for the poor Americans who visit. The only place that has even something CLOSE to it is an underground mall (score one for Puu-ra) called Uni-Qlo.
Pretty sure it’s supposed to be either “Glow” or short for “Clothes” but it doesn’t explain the Q and L’s don’t even exist in Japan so that entire last part must be the struggle of the century for Japanese speakers. Then again, “First Kitchen” (this western style fast food place) is shortened to “Fu-kin” (sound it out) because Japanese people like to shorten words and its so cute how innocent going to the “Fuckin Restaurant” must be if you don’t know curse words…
Back on topic, I managed to find a pair of leggings that actually fit me and weren’t $20 (looking at you, Gap), Hurrah! Though I will never find a pair of jeans that fit me I did find denim leggings (which look like skinny jeans) so that works out just as well if not better (a little better actually). After a failed search for $1.00 shot glasses at the 100en (99 cents) store the three of us found our way back to the train and on the train notice a…well, a pretty hot Asian guy with an angel wing tattoo across his chest. Combined with his messy hair and lip ring, all he needed was a neat bow to complete the sexy “rebel” package. My friend (I’ll call her Lip Ring) noticed him and made it quite obvious she wanted THAT. Two stops later we reached our stop and she turns on…
The Walk.
You know, that confident walk with the hip switch and raised head that says: “You can get it…maybe.” She turns it on full blasts in her wicked high heels as she exits the train…and walks in the opposite direction of the station exit. I was a little confused because it was SO confident of a walk that I thought maybe there was more to where she was going besides train tracks? Fortunately, friend 2 (I’ll call her S.S. for Sober Sally—well, Sonia in this case but still) notices what would’ve been dual stupidity and points Lip Ring and I in the proper direction…while the train doors are still open…and hottie is still watching our sober jackassery.
Oh Christ.
Lip Ring quickly struts her stuff in the proper direction while cursing under her breath in disbelief. Here’s where S.S and I start to laugh to tears, it was just too amazing slash a waste of a hot walk. But even though the moment warranted a head shake, I’m sure the cutie must’ve liked what he saw of her :D
We returned to school to meet up with the rest of the gang but we find only Tray-J (the couple) waiting. I wondered where the hell Open Throat was because he was interested in accompanying us and AJ informs us that he went to visit his girlfriend after a week of not seeing her but he’ll be back. Wait, why will he be back again? That mofo can drink ANYTIME; just do your girlfriend, we understand o_o”. Whatever. We head to the park (Tray-J, Me, Lip Ring, Germany(‘nother friend)) and sit underneath a vine covered gazebo with a view of the lake.
It was…well, despite being incredibly low maintenance, one of the more memorable experiences I’ve had in awhile. Eating melon bread and taking shots of vodka while comparing musical tastes in good company ranks up there as one of the simple things in life. But I enjoy those simply silly things, you know? I mean, ignoring the raptorsaurus duck that waddled out of NOWHERE, the mosquitoes that feasted on AN ankle, having Tracy sing to me in the spider infested literal-porcelain-hole-in-the-ground bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my shit, having to run back inebriated to the school to pick up Open Throat, and sending that fond (but EXPENSIVE) text message to someone, it was otherwise a pretty satisfying night.
Saturday morning sucked though. Yeah, apparently waking up in the middle of the night with dry mouth and forcing down bread to ironically enough, avoid vomming, makes you WANT to vom. I woke up feeling like the Red Death was upon me and thankful living by myself in Rangeview taught me how to logically react to potential shit shows.
“Hmm…is it more culturally acceptable to vom in my trash can or should I run down the hall to the bathroom? But the walls in this house are really thin…”
It crossed my mind that it might be more culturally acceptable to throw up in the shower. But then I realized I shouldn’t base vom decisions on isolated incidents where said party was either drunk or completely retarded. Though to be FAIR, she (Open Throat’s girlfriend) is a sweet girl and COMPLETELY adorable…but she should never drink again. Or if she does, it damn well better not be in MY hotel room…
Back on track, I chose the bathroom. Made it back to my room feeling crampy and crappy but glad I could just sleep all day. Well, no. Because even though I am POSITIVE host dad heard me reversing my insides, he decides to wake me up to tell me they’re leaving to see his parents (but he’s like 63 so how the fuck old are they o_O?!) and host mom made me breakfast and…
…what happened to leaving a note? That worked last week. I nodded while trying not to throw up down the stairs then dragged my footsteps back to my room and…I think that’s enough for now. This is a really long entry and not every moment needs recording. Until next week?
~ベッリ
I realized about halfway through Literature class several things about being in TIU. For one, while the 3hr daily morning dose of Japanese (with Japanese Only strictly enforced) is extremely tiring on the mind, it IS effective. Granted, I’m a level below where I technically should be but I’d rather relearn the basics and learn new things versus pretend I know everything and struggle epically. But yes, though it’s repetitive, it’s useful. Everything else…
…not so much. If it weren’t for the shitload of financial aid covering my educational expenses at TIU, I’d probably return to the US. My THREE HOUR STRAIGHT History and Literature class add up to 6hours a week of my life I will never get back, slowly consumed by the tedious system. For one thing, I’ve already DONE History of Modern Japan but it’s the lesser of two evils because I don’t want to do Econ or Politics. What troubles me is that it is three hours of Lecturing.
Not discussion.
Not group debates.
LECTURING. I might as well whip out a recorder and kick the fuck back for all that’s worth. Literature somehow manages to trump that. I mean, it’s not a boring class per se…but it’s ACTUALLY the history of Japanese literature and the teacher talks AT us about nothing for three hours. It is painful. How painful?
Glad.
You.
Asked.
Generally when I take notes, I try to write down everything said in class. Here’s an example of the eloquence that is my Lit notes:
“OH YES its another POWERPOINT. ALRIGHT!!!
People didn’t think Japan had a stone age and then someone dug deeper and they find all sorts of things.
(the above sentence is the teacher’s EXACT words)
Lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of two evils lesser of t
(see that? That’s my mental break an hour into the class)
Things are becoming organized around central bodies and central figures and things loosely associated with blah blah are apart of larger routes and this i
(no, he didn’t finish the thought. Therefore, I didn’t finish the sentence)
They are the size of a large cathedral, these gaping key holes…large amounts of stuff piled into shapes
(…I think I was talking to Perla and in between that, heard this phrase?)
According to these Japanese characters there’s a painting of mainland influences…what??
Today we are learning about hiragana…what??? I see Kanji, I see France, I see someone eating Lance?
Hiragana came from temples…Oooooooh we’re talking about the ORIGIN of literature.
BACK TO WHATEVER THIS IS:
The beginning of the END…Blind people.
Mountain villages….”
…
Now. I’m aware I may not be the best student but I am a DAMN good note taker granted you give me something to work with. There was NOTHING to be taken from that lecture but notes on Japanese characters and opinions on poetry (which I didn’t bother writing down). Clearly this is supposed to be my joke semester because I can’t take this shiitake seriously. But enough of being a Debbie Downer. This is the last time I’ll pull out a negative Nancy blog, I promise.
Maybe. *ahem* Friday the same topic that always comes up came up. “What are we going to do? Duur Karaoke?” That’s not to represent anybody in particular but rather, a vast majority of us because our tired footsteps always lead us to those neon karaoke doors (and I’m so sure the Karaoke people love our
Before the beginning of that EXCITING night, we (me and two of my other female friends) went into Kawagoe because I was in desperate need of a new pair of tights. I sadly found out the hard way that my size is not M-L in Japan. Because in Japan M-L stands for Mad Light. At least that’s what I came up with when I bought tights and they couldn’t go past my fat ass. No…my size in Japan is O. As in Light, Mad Light, Lar—oh-who-are-we-kidding-large-asians-don’t-exist, and O. For Obese. This size is a rarity among rarities in Japan and reserved for the poor Americans who visit. The only place that has even something CLOSE to it is an underground mall (score one for Puu-ra) called Uni-Qlo.
Pretty sure it’s supposed to be either “Glow” or short for “Clothes” but it doesn’t explain the Q and L’s don’t even exist in Japan so that entire last part must be the struggle of the century for Japanese speakers. Then again, “First Kitchen” (this western style fast food place) is shortened to “Fu-kin” (sound it out) because Japanese people like to shorten words and its so cute how innocent going to the “Fuckin Restaurant” must be if you don’t know curse words…
Back on topic, I managed to find a pair of leggings that actually fit me and weren’t $20 (looking at you, Gap), Hurrah! Though I will never find a pair of jeans that fit me I did find denim leggings (which look like skinny jeans) so that works out just as well if not better (a little better actually). After a failed search for $1.00 shot glasses at the 100en (99 cents) store the three of us found our way back to the train and on the train notice a…well, a pretty hot Asian guy with an angel wing tattoo across his chest. Combined with his messy hair and lip ring, all he needed was a neat bow to complete the sexy “rebel” package. My friend (I’ll call her Lip Ring) noticed him and made it quite obvious she wanted THAT. Two stops later we reached our stop and she turns on…
The Walk.
You know, that confident walk with the hip switch and raised head that says: “You can get it…maybe.” She turns it on full blasts in her wicked high heels as she exits the train…and walks in the opposite direction of the station exit. I was a little confused because it was SO confident of a walk that I thought maybe there was more to where she was going besides train tracks? Fortunately, friend 2 (I’ll call her S.S. for Sober Sally—well, Sonia in this case but still) notices what would’ve been dual stupidity and points Lip Ring and I in the proper direction…while the train doors are still open…and hottie is still watching our sober jackassery.
Oh Christ.
Lip Ring quickly struts her stuff in the proper direction while cursing under her breath in disbelief. Here’s where S.S and I start to laugh to tears, it was just too amazing slash a waste of a hot walk. But even though the moment warranted a head shake, I’m sure the cutie must’ve liked what he saw of her :D
We returned to school to meet up with the rest of the gang but we find only Tray-J (the couple) waiting. I wondered where the hell Open Throat was because he was interested in accompanying us and AJ informs us that he went to visit his girlfriend after a week of not seeing her but he’ll be back. Wait, why will he be back again? That mofo can drink ANYTIME; just do your girlfriend, we understand o_o”. Whatever. We head to the park (Tray-J, Me, Lip Ring, Germany(‘nother friend)) and sit underneath a vine covered gazebo with a view of the lake.
It was…well, despite being incredibly low maintenance, one of the more memorable experiences I’ve had in awhile. Eating melon bread and taking shots of vodka while comparing musical tastes in good company ranks up there as one of the simple things in life. But I enjoy those simply silly things, you know? I mean, ignoring the raptorsaurus duck that waddled out of NOWHERE, the mosquitoes that feasted on AN ankle, having Tracy sing to me in the spider infested literal-porcelain-hole-in-the-ground bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my shit, having to run back inebriated to the school to pick up Open Throat, and sending that fond (but EXPENSIVE) text message to someone, it was otherwise a pretty satisfying night.
Saturday morning sucked though. Yeah, apparently waking up in the middle of the night with dry mouth and forcing down bread to ironically enough, avoid vomming, makes you WANT to vom. I woke up feeling like the Red Death was upon me and thankful living by myself in Rangeview taught me how to logically react to potential shit shows.
“Hmm…is it more culturally acceptable to vom in my trash can or should I run down the hall to the bathroom? But the walls in this house are really thin…”
It crossed my mind that it might be more culturally acceptable to throw up in the shower. But then I realized I shouldn’t base vom decisions on isolated incidents where said party was either drunk or completely retarded. Though to be FAIR, she (Open Throat’s girlfriend) is a sweet girl and COMPLETELY adorable…but she should never drink again. Or if she does, it damn well better not be in MY hotel room…
Back on track, I chose the bathroom. Made it back to my room feeling crampy and crappy but glad I could just sleep all day. Well, no. Because even though I am POSITIVE host dad heard me reversing my insides, he decides to wake me up to tell me they’re leaving to see his parents (but he’s like 63 so how the fuck old are they o_O?!) and host mom made me breakfast and…
…what happened to leaving a note? That worked last week. I nodded while trying not to throw up down the stairs then dragged my footsteps back to my room and…I think that’s enough for now. This is a really long entry and not every moment needs recording. Until next week?
~ベッリ
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Today, a hardcore vegan screamed to the sky in Anguish...
Maybe. Well, I’d like to think so. They would’ve if they ever stepped foot in a Korean Barbeque place in Japan anyways. Today, instead of cooking a big fuck off meal as okaasan usually does (though I love her regardless of her trying to turn me into a Thanksgiving turkey) we went to a Korean Barbeque place Japanese style! I’ve never even had a Korean bbq American style so all in all it would be an interesting experience. I figured that since we were at a restaurant I could control my portions and since I’d told otoosan (my Japanese dad) that I had a test to study for Monday morning things would be light and quick.
But apparently, my Japanese must be really off because my Otoosan took that as “order the host daughter beer in a tall ass mug”. Oh dear…and since I struggle with saying “no” to anything I’m offered because I don’t want to offend my family (because it’s something very easy to do in Japan) I accepted it graciously and drank away. Then the piles of raw meat came our way. Yeah, you read that correctly, raw meat. I was really confused by ONLY seeing raw meat on the menu but sure enough, that’s how it works. We got about, oh, I don’t know, 7lbs of raw meat? Never fear though, because in the center of the table we had coals and a grill.
Now that’s authentic BBQ. It’s also a pretty authentic way of trying to get me to throw up nothing but meat and cabbage. Because that is seriously all they ordered.
Four different kinds of meat. And Sesame flavored cabbage (alternatively, hot sauce covered cabbage i.e. Kimchi).
I mentally prepared myself to be throwing up for the rest of the night when my mother ordered me Budo Sour (sour grape drink with a miniscule amount of alcohol) when all of a sudden my HERO steps into the restaurant. Well…more like my host sister. Same difference. She asks me if I need rice and I nod my head bobble head style without trying to sound too obviously desperate. I CAN’T drink without carbs or a miracle and I’ve been SHIT out of miracles as of late.
After filling up on rice my host mother offers me MORE meat. No fucking way. I couldn’t even pretend to do it, especially with the light buzz going on in my head. I pulled out the “I’m MAD HELLA FULL” phrase and sat back unable to move in anything but rollable directions. Host dad asked if I wanted more beer. “That depends…do you want me to vom in your toilet AND shower?” I politely declined the offer and once we prepared to go home it hit me.
I had to fucking bike ride back home. I can BARELY ride my bike sober but buzzed? I was HORRIFIED. Host dad (who had four beers) whizzed past all jolly go lucky while I was freaking out as car after car passed me (because in Japan, everyone is a G and rides in the street). Kind of…okay, definitely repeating to myself “I’m going to die D:” and thankful my host mom didn’t understand, I somehow made it back home without error and realized…
…well…
…it wasn’t that bad. It was kind of nice. Ignoring the “I’m going to die” segment, it was peaceful riding my bike in the not so congested streets of late evening Japan. And now onto homework…!
….
…who am I kidding? I’m totally watching Lord of the Rings!
But apparently, my Japanese must be really off because my Otoosan took that as “order the host daughter beer in a tall ass mug”. Oh dear…and since I struggle with saying “no” to anything I’m offered because I don’t want to offend my family (because it’s something very easy to do in Japan) I accepted it graciously and drank away. Then the piles of raw meat came our way. Yeah, you read that correctly, raw meat. I was really confused by ONLY seeing raw meat on the menu but sure enough, that’s how it works. We got about, oh, I don’t know, 7lbs of raw meat? Never fear though, because in the center of the table we had coals and a grill.
Now that’s authentic BBQ. It’s also a pretty authentic way of trying to get me to throw up nothing but meat and cabbage. Because that is seriously all they ordered.
Four different kinds of meat. And Sesame flavored cabbage (alternatively, hot sauce covered cabbage i.e. Kimchi).
I mentally prepared myself to be throwing up for the rest of the night when my mother ordered me Budo Sour (sour grape drink with a miniscule amount of alcohol) when all of a sudden my HERO steps into the restaurant. Well…more like my host sister. Same difference. She asks me if I need rice and I nod my head bobble head style without trying to sound too obviously desperate. I CAN’T drink without carbs or a miracle and I’ve been SHIT out of miracles as of late.
After filling up on rice my host mother offers me MORE meat. No fucking way. I couldn’t even pretend to do it, especially with the light buzz going on in my head. I pulled out the “I’m MAD HELLA FULL” phrase and sat back unable to move in anything but rollable directions. Host dad asked if I wanted more beer. “That depends…do you want me to vom in your toilet AND shower?” I politely declined the offer and once we prepared to go home it hit me.
I had to fucking bike ride back home. I can BARELY ride my bike sober but buzzed? I was HORRIFIED. Host dad (who had four beers) whizzed past all jolly go lucky while I was freaking out as car after car passed me (because in Japan, everyone is a G and rides in the street). Kind of…okay, definitely repeating to myself “I’m going to die D:” and thankful my host mom didn’t understand, I somehow made it back home without error and realized…
…well…
…it wasn’t that bad. It was kind of nice. Ignoring the “I’m going to die” segment, it was peaceful riding my bike in the not so congested streets of late evening Japan. And now onto homework…!
….
…who am I kidding? I’m totally watching Lord of the Rings!
Friday, September 4, 2009
So about smacking people in the face...
A few- well, no, a blog ago I mentioned how I missed out on being the first to get that sim card. That was a flaming tragedy. Today, that Someone came to me and broke the news that their other phone possessed no sim card and I was ass out of luck. The first girl felt guilty and I let her feel guilty. Sure, I’m a decent human being but she HAS a sim card and though I’m not going to push a bitch down the stairs for it, I’m not going to openly admit I called dibs first.
Whatevs. It’s cool. I saved 5000 Yen. And a fortunate thing too. Today, quite a bit of us decided doing dinner and karaoke (again) would be an amazing idea. I always buy 2 dollar dinners if I can help it. Alas, it’s the life of a penny pincher. I bought a pork bun (mata…) and I was all about the pregame factor. Open Throat guaranteed he could find me liquor that would get me stumble-fucking back to my homestay. What he MEANT was, his friend is a ridiculous lightweight and though his friend could down 28 shots (probably of S&R) sake was his kryptonite.
Here’s a lesser known fact about me:
I. Hate. Sake.
I know, being in Japan and studying Asian Studies, sake is supposed to be the blood of the Gods to me but it doesn’t do SHIT for me and it tastes exactly like what it is; fermented fucking rice. Nonetheless, since I have the tendency/frequency of thinking with my woman parts, I let Open Throat convince me to buy a mini jar of sake for about 2 dollars and change. AJ and I (renowned members of the Hard A crew) went down this route for the sake of pregaming for karaoke (5 bucks an hour for all you could down).
At the karaoke place and a half hour in, I realized with about 1/8th left of my sake and 7/8th left of my Gin and Tonic that I was going to get nowhere fast with my pitiful combination. The Gin was good, very nice and woody. But it’s strictly for sipping (on my part). You can’t chug that shit like your shotgunning at a frat, oh no..! And then the sake was doing nothing for me, I felt as if I’d be better off snorting ashes from the cigarette smokers. Which was nearly EVERYONE (my hair smells like a god damn ash tray). My comforting/consoling thought is if I get cancer from second hand smoke HOPEFULLY the Make-A-Wish foundation will kiss my ass and let me meet Vivian Vande Velde (practically the reason I write).
Digressing. My apologies. We sang our songs…I did quite the epic rendition of Chop Suey ala System of a Down (with the facebook pictures to prove it) and saved Erik and Saina from DESTROYING P.I.M.P. Of course this was after my third Tequila and Tonic. I’d wised up about an hour into the game and decided Tequila and Tonic + Orange Juice was a WINNING combination. Like poison juice but such sweet sweet Sweet poison. About an hour and a half way through the game me and three other guys congregated outside and talked about something we missed sorely.
Something special. Something in Japan but intangible. Our common interest.
Of course I’m talking about Mary. We ALL want a piece of Mary. We want to blow on her until she’s done. God. DAMN. Talks went from pieces to percolators to group blowing Mary sessions and I realized with a rueful smile I missed this. I missed being “the guy girl” or the girl that’s just really fucking chill with all the guys without having to open her legs to get into that position. I make that statement confidently because all the guys have girlfriends (somehow…) and I’m not interested in any of them.
Ellipses.
Dot dot dot.
*glance aside*. Okay, alright, maybe ONE unknown factor intrigues me but I’m pretty sure he likes them Asian and I’m so far from that its god damn hilarious. Either way, it felt nice just chilling with the guys and talking about Janey related things. And then Open Throat was particularly fucked up which was adorable…I think he and Blonde would get along well. Though Open throat has a girlfriend every guy has their beard…
Anywho, the night ended early. For me anyways. Though Open throat mentioned Spicing things up Ala an Apple (which reminded me of Erica+Alan for a minute and change) he decided that considering he had to BIKE home he didn’t want to be completely done. Granted, I was extremely disappointed because I wasn’t nearly as fucked up, I let it go. The last thing I wanted to hear was he got bounced under the influence of synthetic greenery and an excess amount of beer he downed in 2 seconds flat.
I ended up walking a block away with another girl friend of mine and then having to blitz my way home because I said I’d be home 10:30pm and I was already 5 minutes late by then.
Time flies when you’re being deviant…(
Whatevs. It’s cool. I saved 5000 Yen. And a fortunate thing too. Today, quite a bit of us decided doing dinner and karaoke (again) would be an amazing idea. I always buy 2 dollar dinners if I can help it. Alas, it’s the life of a penny pincher. I bought a pork bun (mata…) and I was all about the pregame factor. Open Throat guaranteed he could find me liquor that would get me stumble-fucking back to my homestay. What he MEANT was, his friend is a ridiculous lightweight and though his friend could down 28 shots (probably of S&R) sake was his kryptonite.
Here’s a lesser known fact about me:
I. Hate. Sake.
I know, being in Japan and studying Asian Studies, sake is supposed to be the blood of the Gods to me but it doesn’t do SHIT for me and it tastes exactly like what it is; fermented fucking rice. Nonetheless, since I have the tendency/frequency of thinking with my woman parts, I let Open Throat convince me to buy a mini jar of sake for about 2 dollars and change. AJ and I (renowned members of the Hard A crew) went down this route for the sake of pregaming for karaoke (5 bucks an hour for all you could down).
At the karaoke place and a half hour in, I realized with about 1/8th left of my sake and 7/8th left of my Gin and Tonic that I was going to get nowhere fast with my pitiful combination. The Gin was good, very nice and woody. But it’s strictly for sipping (on my part). You can’t chug that shit like your shotgunning at a frat, oh no..! And then the sake was doing nothing for me, I felt as if I’d be better off snorting ashes from the cigarette smokers. Which was nearly EVERYONE (my hair smells like a god damn ash tray). My comforting/consoling thought is if I get cancer from second hand smoke HOPEFULLY the Make-A-Wish foundation will kiss my ass and let me meet Vivian Vande Velde (practically the reason I write).
Digressing. My apologies. We sang our songs…I did quite the epic rendition of Chop Suey ala System of a Down (with the facebook pictures to prove it) and saved Erik and Saina from DESTROYING P.I.M.P. Of course this was after my third Tequila and Tonic. I’d wised up about an hour into the game and decided Tequila and Tonic + Orange Juice was a WINNING combination. Like poison juice but such sweet sweet Sweet poison. About an hour and a half way through the game me and three other guys congregated outside and talked about something we missed sorely.
Something special. Something in Japan but intangible. Our common interest.
Of course I’m talking about Mary. We ALL want a piece of Mary. We want to blow on her until she’s done. God. DAMN. Talks went from pieces to percolators to group blowing Mary sessions and I realized with a rueful smile I missed this. I missed being “the guy girl” or the girl that’s just really fucking chill with all the guys without having to open her legs to get into that position. I make that statement confidently because all the guys have girlfriends (somehow…) and I’m not interested in any of them.
Ellipses.
Dot dot dot.
*glance aside*. Okay, alright, maybe ONE unknown factor intrigues me but I’m pretty sure he likes them Asian and I’m so far from that its god damn hilarious. Either way, it felt nice just chilling with the guys and talking about Janey related things. And then Open Throat was particularly fucked up which was adorable…I think he and Blonde would get along well. Though Open throat has a girlfriend every guy has their beard…
Anywho, the night ended early. For me anyways. Though Open throat mentioned Spicing things up Ala an Apple (which reminded me of Erica+Alan for a minute and change) he decided that considering he had to BIKE home he didn’t want to be completely done. Granted, I was extremely disappointed because I wasn’t nearly as fucked up, I let it go. The last thing I wanted to hear was he got bounced under the influence of synthetic greenery and an excess amount of beer he downed in 2 seconds flat.
I ended up walking a block away with another girl friend of mine and then having to blitz my way home because I said I’d be home 10:30pm and I was already 5 minutes late by then.
Time flies when you’re being deviant…(
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Cheating the system and “Onaka ni ippai”
See that phrase? Learn it well. Memorize it. Let’s repeat it:
O-NA-KA-NI-I-PPAI.
The most commonly used phrase about halfway through the monstrous servings I receive for dinner. I seriously could not finish eating tonight. Maybe its because my stomach was still full from the fuck off breakfast I was served earlier in the day. For dinner, there was a bowl of Udon soup, a Japanese hamburger (no bun and covered in teriyaki and fucking RICH) with 3 potato fries, 2 cherry tomatoes and cucumber, a bowl of rice, a plate of Kimchi (cause I like it so much), a bowl of eggplants, a plate of this BITTER green plant and cold scrambled egg, and pickled uhm…pickles. I never question WHAT exactly it is, but yes. Understand this was our EVENING meal. How the HELL are Asians so god damn thin if they eat enough to feed a third world country TWICE? And then after that, Okaasan (mom) asked if I wanted fruits and tea on top of that. Yeah okay.
But this blog/journal wasn’t created to only rant about being overfed and becoming the size of Oxy. Japan experience, yaddi yadda. So today we went to theMinistry of Magic Kawagoe Alien Registration center as usual, everything was extremely mysterious. Except there was this one brat three year old trying to run through an office panel. I kind of wish his mother let him run and instead of going through it he just slammed RIGHT into it. Then again, I’m just a dick in terms of children. Cause regardless of race, they’re evil bastards. *doesn’t discriminate*
Oh—and apparently dried kiwi is a biological weapon. Because you are not allowed to send it from Japan to Sweden without getting that shit disposed of at the border. Luckily enough, the Japanese postal ladies “suggested” my friend might want to omit the contents of her care package on the shipping paper. Just in case nobody’s aware, any “suggestion” you receive from a Japanese person means “you SHOULD do this but we don’t like being direct”. And I thought I was passive aggressive…
Then again, they DID have a “Pearl Harbor” hat in a gift store. Totally fucking awkward beans and the bluntest thing I’ve seen in Japan besides this doll with a chef hat with a shirt that read “BIG DICK”. But I’m deviating from the point again. I mentioned cheating the system and that’s EXACTLY what I intend to do. Whatever could I mean? Well…
About a week ago a cellphone company by the name of Softbank came by and displayed two of their phones that were available…for a price. Of almost $100 or so. Naturally, I said “To fuck with that” because I am very much a broke bitch and I will NEVER have that much money to spend on a phone I’m going to use for 3 months (on top of having to buy minutes). However, while I’m a broke bitch and not a very eloquent bitch, I am a SMART bitch and before I left for the Land of the Rising sun I had t-Mobile “unlock” my phone. By unlocking my phone, if I wanted I could switch my service to any other company that uses a Sim card, USA or not.
Looking at YOU, Softbank.
The representatives of Softbank were openly skeptical about my international phone boast so the male representative pulls the sim card out of his female colleague’s cell phone and puts it into mine. He starts up my phone, calls HIS phone and what’s this? A vibrating in his back pocket? Yeah, like I FUCKING said. He exclaims that I’m lucky and since my phone IS compatible with their sim cards, he would make sure to bring me one for 2000 Yen. On top of the price of a phone card (which I had to buy) it would be an additional 3000 Yen. 5000 Yen for the sake of having a functional phone (about $57)? I could totally fucking dig it, I even stored 5000 Yen in the side bar of my wallet so I’d have the money to pay up.
Then the day arrives. Or to be more specific, today arrives. I waited at the university (no classes today) until 3pm. Earlier, I ate SHIT riding my bike to kill time while waiting for those fucking bastards. Why the name calling? Well when they arrived and I asked about my sim card…about that. They apparently lied. While it was damn well apparent my phone is compatible with their Sim cards, the representatives weren’t down with selling me a sim card unless I bought a phone or I signed a year long contract.
And WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO THAT?
1) For the type of bullshit phone they were selling, it was definitely not worth $100 I’d have to pull out of someone elses fucking asshole cause god knows I don’t have the money for it. And 2) The year long contract thing is flawed because they only give year long contracts to people who are staying FOR A YEAR. Are you KIDDING me?
I politely declined both offers and another girl in the same predicament as me conferred with me. Because something about my persona deems that I know what to do when shit goes down. I don’t know. Someone eventually comes up to us in a whisper and says he has two spare sim cards just sitting around. Free of charge…and we can borrow them as long as we return them. Uhm, yes? Unfortunately for me, the other girl got it first (and she was really worried I would smack her in the face for it…I promise I’m not that much of a hoodrat dear) but he said he would get it to me tomorrow.
O-NA-KA-NI-I-PPAI.
The most commonly used phrase about halfway through the monstrous servings I receive for dinner. I seriously could not finish eating tonight. Maybe its because my stomach was still full from the fuck off breakfast I was served earlier in the day. For dinner, there was a bowl of Udon soup, a Japanese hamburger (no bun and covered in teriyaki and fucking RICH) with 3 potato fries, 2 cherry tomatoes and cucumber, a bowl of rice, a plate of Kimchi (cause I like it so much), a bowl of eggplants, a plate of this BITTER green plant and cold scrambled egg, and pickled uhm…pickles. I never question WHAT exactly it is, but yes. Understand this was our EVENING meal. How the HELL are Asians so god damn thin if they eat enough to feed a third world country TWICE? And then after that, Okaasan (mom) asked if I wanted fruits and tea on top of that. Yeah okay.
But this blog/journal wasn’t created to only rant about being overfed and becoming the size of Oxy. Japan experience, yaddi yadda. So today we went to the
Oh—and apparently dried kiwi is a biological weapon. Because you are not allowed to send it from Japan to Sweden without getting that shit disposed of at the border. Luckily enough, the Japanese postal ladies “suggested” my friend might want to omit the contents of her care package on the shipping paper. Just in case nobody’s aware, any “suggestion” you receive from a Japanese person means “you SHOULD do this but we don’t like being direct”. And I thought I was passive aggressive…
Then again, they DID have a “Pearl Harbor” hat in a gift store. Totally fucking awkward beans and the bluntest thing I’ve seen in Japan besides this doll with a chef hat with a shirt that read “BIG DICK”. But I’m deviating from the point again. I mentioned cheating the system and that’s EXACTLY what I intend to do. Whatever could I mean? Well…
About a week ago a cellphone company by the name of Softbank came by and displayed two of their phones that were available…for a price. Of almost $100 or so. Naturally, I said “To fuck with that” because I am very much a broke bitch and I will NEVER have that much money to spend on a phone I’m going to use for 3 months (on top of having to buy minutes). However, while I’m a broke bitch and not a very eloquent bitch, I am a SMART bitch and before I left for the Land of the Rising sun I had t-Mobile “unlock” my phone. By unlocking my phone, if I wanted I could switch my service to any other company that uses a Sim card, USA or not.
Looking at YOU, Softbank.
The representatives of Softbank were openly skeptical about my international phone boast so the male representative pulls the sim card out of his female colleague’s cell phone and puts it into mine. He starts up my phone, calls HIS phone and what’s this? A vibrating in his back pocket? Yeah, like I FUCKING said. He exclaims that I’m lucky and since my phone IS compatible with their sim cards, he would make sure to bring me one for 2000 Yen. On top of the price of a phone card (which I had to buy) it would be an additional 3000 Yen. 5000 Yen for the sake of having a functional phone (about $57)? I could totally fucking dig it, I even stored 5000 Yen in the side bar of my wallet so I’d have the money to pay up.
Then the day arrives. Or to be more specific, today arrives. I waited at the university (no classes today) until 3pm. Earlier, I ate SHIT riding my bike to kill time while waiting for those fucking bastards. Why the name calling? Well when they arrived and I asked about my sim card…about that. They apparently lied. While it was damn well apparent my phone is compatible with their Sim cards, the representatives weren’t down with selling me a sim card unless I bought a phone or I signed a year long contract.
And WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO THAT?
1) For the type of bullshit phone they were selling, it was definitely not worth $100 I’d have to pull out of someone elses fucking asshole cause god knows I don’t have the money for it. And 2) The year long contract thing is flawed because they only give year long contracts to people who are staying FOR A YEAR. Are you KIDDING me?
I politely declined both offers and another girl in the same predicament as me conferred with me. Because something about my persona deems that I know what to do when shit goes down. I don’t know. Someone eventually comes up to us in a whisper and says he has two spare sim cards just sitting around. Free of charge…and we can borrow them as long as we return them. Uhm, yes? Unfortunately for me, the other girl got it first (and she was really worried I would smack her in the face for it…I promise I’m not that much of a hoodrat dear) but he said he would get it to me tomorrow.
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