High school dropouts, strung-out junkies, and fucked gaijin, behold:
This is all you need to jackpot vending machines in Japan.
I’ve seen evidence of it poured down coin slots of every make and model of jihanki, but passersby usually mistake it as simple vandalism rather than evidence of (usually attempted but not successful) theft. Hearsay in my college dorm was that older machines are more likely to produce coins (via return slot) than newer ones, and lengthy debates were held on the question of whether other brands of dishsoap would work as well as MamaLemon, pictured above.
Basically, the entire jackpotting phenomenon* exists mainly because:
A. Japanese college students are unchallenged, lazy, immoral dumbfucks
B. The 500 yen (approx. $5) coin makes it worthwhile
*Not to say this is as widespread in other areas, YMMV. Also, not everyone notices shit like this; I just have an eye for it.
Month: April 2005
Read this
One of the most haunting pieces of writing I have ever seen: Creek Running North
Read the comments, too.
(via Carpundit)
Wrong Number
Through some incredibly crappy piece of cosmic fate, my home phone number is a single digit off from the number of the office running a ferry service down at Sumoto Port. This makes for some interesting phone calls sometimes, usually people who ask when the next boat is leaving, etc. Usually I’m pretty cool about it, but recently, I’ve been a big asshole about wrong numbers because my girl is back in Thailand and when the phone rings, I assume it’s her.
Yesterday the phone rang at 4:30 AM and I was like, “mmmgggrrrrcoughcoughgegege – whello?”
“What time does the next ferry leave?”
Oh, for the love of christ! “WRONG NUMBER, ASSHOLE!” Click.
That was bad enough, but later that night, after I got back from work and was in a generally pissy mood since I hate coming back to a dark house (sniff!), another call for the ferry schedule came:
“When does the next ferry leave,” a naggy-voiced dumb bitch wheezed into the phone.
Half in spite of the earier caller, and because I have the new ferry schedule memorized, and ALSO because I HATE naggy voices AND dumb bitches, I decided to play along: “It leaves at 10:40 PM.”
“OMG there’s no time, I totally won’t make it, right?”, she says.
“Can you hurry?”, I ask (knowing full well I am going to hell for this).
“Could you ask them to wait a couple minutes for me?”, she pleads.
“Hmmm… Not really, but you might make it if you run… RUN! RUN!” Click.
*As a sidenote, I came that close to walking down to the pier to see if she made it or not.
Return of the Kancho Sense
Azrael’s site (the “I am a Japanese school teacher” dude) is back up! Check out the latest installment of his adventures here.
“I make it back to the haven of the teachers room…but not the man I once was. No, I was once a proud pillar of Anti-Kancho, Dickdodging magnificence. Now, I limped gingerly back to my seat, my tail between my legs, my ass no longer pure. This was definitely not in the contract.”
This is some seriously funny shit.
Owner of the greatest bar story. Ever.
Sent from a reader:
(Click to enlarge.)
Apparently this clipping is from two years ago, but I had never heard of it until now. That guy has balls the size of basketballs, or a brain the size of a pea. Come to think of it, those two traits aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, are they?
Region Free Command for by d:sign d:1070
If you bought a by d:sign d:1070 DVD player in Japan and need instructions for unlocking the region free function (to be able to view DVDs from other regions), look no further:
1. Open the tray
2. Press the Setup button on the remote
3. On the Selection page, press the following buttons: 1, 3, 7, 9
4. When the Region Code screen appears, change the Region from 2 to 0
5. Buy me a beer if it works!
I’m Rocky Balboa, bitch!
Check out this hilarious video clip.
Bathroom Habits
Go take this survey and “find out what strange habits other people have when going to the bathroom.”: The Bathroom Survey
I can’t believe so many people eat when they’re on the pot. That’s just fucking sick, yo. (On the other hand, I suppose that’s how they make those corncobs (for wiping… err, scrubbing?) apparently found in outhouses down south.
Also, regarding front/back alignment of TP on spool, I have a really unhealthy obsession with keeping it strictly front. It bugs the hell out of me to find rolls mounted backward, anywhere. Before houseguests come over, I switch in a new roll to ensure nobody runs out and mounts a roll “backwards” (I use quotes because apparently in the UK and Australia, backwards is the norm, which I found out from me mate, Koala John. Interestingly enough, KJ also told me that raisins are called “sultanas” [Kellogs’ Sultana Bran just sounds wrong to these American ears – it’s like being told apples are known as “manzanacitas” in Wales or something], and that Vegemite on toast actually is not listed in the dictionary as “shit on a shingle,” but I have no idea whether either of the above are commonly consumed on the toilet or not.)
Obviously, “double-dipping” must be the reason so many people claim to always wash their hands.
Cutey
Surprise!