If you’re a Japanews Bloghound, you’ve doubtlessly seen this article linked to no less than five times today:
More Japanese men prefer sitting whizzes
I just want to know one thing: If you think so many Japanese men are sitting on Western-style toilets to take a leak, WHY DO I SEE SO MANY OF THEM PISSING ON THE STREET FOR JUST ABOUT EVERYONE TO SEE?
Then again, maybe I’m just seeing imaginary, urinating ojisans.
Ouch. This person obviously chose the wrong career – I’m thinking Corrections Officer would have been more appropriate.
My second year in Japan, I got in a fairly serious accident while riding to work on my motor scooter. A small car ran a stop sign right in front of me. I crashed into its side and flew over the hood into a drained rice field, gasping for breath as the wind had been knocked out of me. I passed out and woke up during the ambulance ride to Tenri Hospital.
All in all, I felt relatively uninjured. They looked me over in the ER, checked especially for head trauma, and everything seemed fine until the doctor brought out the helmet I had been wearing and said I needed additional tests in broken English (I still couldn’t speak very much Japanese at the time). Looking at the helmet, I agreed: It had probably saved my life. The doctor took the dented, deformed hunk of plastic out of the room, and told me to follow him. When I asked where we were going, he looked back at me, dead serious, and said a single word: “Lobotomy.”
To this day, I have no idea if that fucker was joking or not (maybe – just maybe – he meant something else?), but at the time the shit wasn’t very funny.
Even if you aren’t usually prone to motion sickness, don’t check out this link just after eating:
Akiyoshi’s illusion pages
Oh, man, I almost lost the tori negi-sauce don I had for lunch.
That goddamn line from “Under Pressure” is running around in my head again. An omen, perhaps.
Someone should just sit down and figure out the exact equation detailing the relationship of [number of times dropped on head as child] to [height of rear spoiler on car]. By the way, people with cars this expensive should not be spotted in the parking lots of recycle shops… A more affordable solution for cash-strapped Fast and Fuuurious wannabes is a haxx0red copy of Gran Turismo, aight?
A month or so back, my brother and I found a spot from which to escape from people. Most everybody, that is. It’s a dam up in the mountains just a few miles off a major road, but apparently not very well known. We went there both Saturday and Sunday for a few hours of fishing and just to get away from it all. Saturday I caught a reallyreally small largemouth which attacked a lure not much smaller than itself – and that was it as far as our catch for the weekend – but it was enough. Being out on decently sized lakes with no one else in sight was a reward unto itself. Last week was kind of a tipping point for me, you see. I’d had just about enough of the world, I think.
It all started out on Sunday, when I watched an old man collapse in a pool of his own blood and guts on a white tiled floor. I looked into his eyes after calling for help and saw neither fear nor acceptance – just confusion. That disturbed me on a level I hadn’t experienced since thinking about post-death consciousness every night when I was ten or so. His wife cradled his head and sobbingly pleaded with him to stay focused for the twenty minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive. When they came, they put on surgical masks and gloves before touching the old man. When they left, they tracked bloody footprints out the door. I left out the back exit and felt strangely sick when the sunlight hit my face.
Tuesday I left for a business meeting in Osaka as documented in my previous post. I feel more and more apologetic as the years go on for having to explain why so many of my fellow countrymen are brash, ignorant, racist dunderfucks. On a side note, do you know how much compensation I get from the company for having to spend a night away from home plus 6 meals? Around ten bucks. Ten bucks, as in, fuck me, may I have another? Fuck me. The really sad thing is, it used to be around twenty bucks and people feel really cheated about it having been cut in half. Shit, the last time the union reps came around, I contemplated throwing a handful of pennies at them and saying, “dinner’s on me, assholes.”
Wednesday I came back from said business trip on a bus directly through a fairly major typhoon. Luckily, I was tired as hell and the huge bus windows amplified the lightning into a trippy ambient light show. I zoned out to this and stopped watching the realtime destruction reports on the TV mounted in the center aisle. Crossing over the longest suspension bridge in the world to my island in heavy winds was kind of tense, though (Bus driver on radio to dispatcher: “Advise others to turn back. Brakes are sluggish and we are moving forward even though I’m not using the gas.”). Cool.
Thursday, the pipes under our kitchen sink decided to burst. Fortunately, my girlfriend and my little brother took care of it and I only saw the aftermath: Everything previously under the sink on my kitchen floor, cupboards being dried out with electric fan. Yes, Nam and Adam handled the crisis and my late arrival/presence was superfluous. Genuinely cool.
Friday I got in a huge fight with my girlfriend, but I sucked it all up because I was so tired and in a “gee this isn’t fair, but beat me up emotionally anyway” state of mind. (By the way, the whole fight was probably all my fault, even though I’ll never admit it.)
So by the time Saturday and Sunday rolled around, I was ready for 12-hour slumber sessions followed by the Nature Boy routine. Our new hideaway did not disappoint. Bunny rabbits, deer, and baby bass. And on Saturday, I even forgot to take my cellphone.
The banana display at my local gourmet supermarket, Liberal.