Every time I swear at the perfidy of the French government, I calm myself by remembering all my good friends in that country and the wonderful times we’ve had over the years.
Author: Justin
A kokeshi is a wooden doll or a dildo, depending on the context
This week is marked by extraordinarily hot weather. I think the French heat wave that melted the cheese and boiled the wine in 2003 decided on a Japanese vacation this year. It’s a wet, constant heat that makes me slow and irritable… My snapping at people is suffering from delayed reaction times; I’m nowhere near the top of my game, although the ear wax dribbling down my sideburns might make some killer organic candles.
Surfing around the expat blog scene, I’ve begun to notice that a lot of people are leaving Japan. Many already have. Is there something you should let me know? Is Rumsfield secretly planning a nuclear strike on the hospital where traitorboy Jenkins is being treated? Will Shoko Asahara pull a (stinky) remote detonator out of his butt and push the (red) button, awakening the 600 ft vibrating kokeshi monster that will stomp its way from Kamikuishiki-mura all the way to the Shibuya ward office? Please, please let me know. This “work” shit is getting B-O-R-I-N-G, quickly.
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Update: I just had a flashback of Matilijah Junior High days, when I corrected our geography teacher’s pronunciation of “Tierra del Fuego.” Yeah, I got picked on after class for that one. Priceless: The teacher’s name was Mrs. Pugh (pronounced “pee-you,” not “pug”). Also, my history teacher was a white supremacist who taught us that Japanese-Americans who were interned during the war got “a free ride.” Somehow that didn’t jibe with tales of financial ruin and broken families I had heard from close relatives, so I got my parents involved. I got picked on after class for that one as well, but somehow I knew I had done the Right Thing.
NOW WILL ONE OF YOU ASSHOLE BUILDING MANAGERS TURN THE FUCKING AC ON “TURBO-MODE” OR DO I HAVE TO DAYDREAM ALL THE WAY BACK TO FUCKING KINDERGARTEN?
o shit i’m late for a meeting. lates.
Unknown Hard
If WinXP has an aneurism during re-installation and defaults to the Blue Screen of Death, with the dreaded error 000021a and the mysteriously simple descriptor: “Unknown Hard”, slap the monitor and the keyboard around a few times (I’ll give you hard, bitch!) and kick the minitower around until you smell smoke.
Alternatively, insert the WinXP install CD again and set the boot order in BIOS to optical drive first, hard drive second, then reboot and try, try again.
Bill Gates can be a real asshole sometimes.
Nepal
In response to questions regarding the beauty of Nepalese women, Taro answered that you never really see Nepalese women in Nepal. They are traditionally kept hidden from view.
Soapland Diaries
Busy three day weekend. Had to go clear out remaining stuff at my little sister’s apartment in Sakai on Saturday (the stalker incident left her shaken and we didn’t let her be there by herself after that), but there was too much to move with my car in a single trip, so I enlisted Taro and his van to help out. Friday, after work, I rode the hydrofoil to the airport and from there took a couple trains to his house in Horyuji. Inevitably, drinking ensued.
Some memorable moments include picking up my new theramin at Taro’s new incense shop, snapping a shot of a girl in a pink yukata playing an accordion, and eating a heavenly slice of yubari melon while lightly fingering a Fender bass.
The most memorable conversation that night was one between Taro and a friend from overseas who shall remain unnamed because:
1. His older sister, who I know from university, and respect, sometimes reads this weblog
– and –
2. His older sister, who is known to punch people in the mouth, sometimes reads this weblog
(If you think you are the sister I am referring to, you definitely are not the sister I am referring to. Or in a way, maybe you are. Don’t ask me, it’s a zen thing.)
Anyway, this anonymous person, who I shall call Mr. X, has only been in Japan for a year or so, and had a lot of questions regarding daily life. Easy enough, so we helped him out and gave pointers and I got very sleeeeepy from the beer and knocked out for a while. When I awoke in a fuzzy state of having just realized that I must have dozed off for a spell, I was in that “overhearing snippets of hushed conversation” state of not-quite-awakeness.
Fascinating. Mr. X had started confiding in Taro about recent sexual escapades in an altogether serious manner. Serious, as in, “Am I fucked up if I get off on dotdotdot” type of talk. Now substitute the following for dotdotdot:
1. Kinky oral stuff? (Taro’s answer: Hell no!)
2. Buggery? (Taro’s answer: Nothin’ wrong if she asks for it)
-and-
3. If she wants to stick her soapy fingers up my butt during oral gratification? (Taro’s answer: Um)
At this particular juncture I could no longer contain my amusement and exploded with laughter, forever staining the moment with much back slapping and ribbing (Mr. X, you dirty dawg!). Mr. X was thoroughly humiliated and will probably have to go to a therapist to fix the emotional damage I caused by waking up at just the wrong moment, overhearing his dark secret, and then teasing him about it all night. Plus, he never got the last question answered because Taro went off on one of his tangents and the most interesting aspect of the story became whether the girl in question is a soapland veteran or not. (“Soaplands,” previously known as torko, short for “Turkish bath,” are places to get “sudded up.” One of the standard “services,” apparently, is anal probing).
Anyway, if you think you are reading about your little brother now, I just want you to know: It ain’t him. He’s an angel.
Cabin food for thought
I read this article this morning and can’t stop thinking about it:
Terror in the Skies, Again?
If you were the author, would you have gotten up and done something? If there really were air marshals on that flight, what the fuck were they waiting for? Perhaps they didn’t have “probable cause,” i.e., one of the “musicians” to emerge from the lav and ask another if they had more matches, “cuz the fuse is damp with ketchup.” I have this sinking feeling there were no air marshals on that flight, and the crew was simply going by the handbook to placate the passengers. If so, that’s just a horrible mindfuck. But I certainly wouldn’t put it over the airline companies at this point.
English by Elimination
Conversation between me and my boss 5 minutes ago:
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Boss: Mr. Justin, what is deductive reasoning?
Me: [Heh] Well, let us start with what it isn’t. It isn’t a fish. It isn’t a guitar. It isn’t a beverage conveyance….
Boss: [blank look] Uh.
Me: …nor is it the ozone layer, a rotary engine, or a tasty octopus…
Boss: [annoyed] Ah…
Me: …ain’t the Pope, the Queen, or anything in between…
Boss: NONONO MR. JUSTIN. I ask you, what is “deductive reasoning?”
Me: I was in the middle of telling you.
Boss: Oh. Sorry. Continue, please.
(30 seconds later)
Me: …not with a fox, nor in a box…
Boss: STOP! I look up in dictionary! I hate the fucking English! (storms off)
///
I am only here to serve.
I am guessing that it is a toilet?
19. Is it round? Yes.
18. Is it made of metal? No.
17. Is it multicolored? No.
16. Is it straight? No.
15. Do you clean it regularly? Yes.
14. Does it use electricity? Sometimes.
13. Can you use it at school? Yes.
12. Does it get really hot? No.
11. Does it have writing on it? Sometimes.
10. Is it a common household object? Yes.
9. Does it move? No.
8. Can it be used for recreation? No.
7. Do you open and close it? Yes.
6. Does it come in different colors? Yes.
5. Can you lift it? No.
4. Can you control it? Yes.
3. Is it outside? Sometimes.
2. Is it smaller than a loaf of bread? No.
1. It is classified as Other.
Go get owned by an AI.
I even threw it some loops, switching between an American and Japanese POV (regarding electricity, coloration, etc.) and it still guessed correctly. Wow.
I know that some of you will contest my answer for #8 but I was truly doubting it would guess correctly, so decided to give it a break. Underestimated my future electronic masters, yes I did.
No bukkake jokes, please
Just got back from a long, long day in Nagoya at the sumo tournament. It was a wonderful experience, but the long drive home through stop-and-go traffic and a lightning storm has left me exhausted.
I will post more pics as I get around to editing them (got the backlog from last weekend, too). But for now… Time to sleeeeep.
HA HA
I just typed the search string “nagoya late night stupid drunk motherfuckers” into the Yahoo Japan search box on a whim, to find a good pub out here tonight. Quite unexpectedly, this blog was listed 5th. Damn, I feel like I own this town already.
Later: Why is Nagoya food so salty? It’s like a monkey got loose with a salt shaker in the kitchen or something. Bad, bad monkey.