So, sweet Geoffery apparently has created an interesting response to being "tagged".
I'd like to say first off that he takes candy from children, sided against Xenu in the great scientology PR war, and draws triangles that violate the pythagorean theorum. Hrmm, futhermore, his strict Republican beliefs are based squarely in admiration for Bush's foreign policy record.
What else... OH! The Japanese characters for "Jee-fu" in his name mean "Sorry I deflowered your daughters and snuck out in the morning through the honourable window." The meaning is a bit fuzzy... "daughters" might also be read as "garden" or "step-mother". Some scholars also suggest that an older reading for "through the honourable window" might also be "after giving them/her syphilis".
Most of all, he happens to have a wicked sense of humour
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Okamaaabulous: The Sport Humping Edition
i'd like to announce that my recent allusons to large, gay, feather-boa clad, japanese men are based alltogether too much in reality.
sherman, lets set the way back machine for "last weekend" and see what we find....
it all started about twenty nine years ago, when a certain man in a certain part of america was born. the stars aligned themselves with the full majesty that is manifest destiny, the red martian god of war was sport humped by jupiter in the house of io, and the sun rose over the land where it is known for doing such things.
after cleaning themselves up, these metaphoric misinterpretations of large rocks gripped in sol's gravity all agreed that sean should, indeed, come to japan.
the above bullshit hyperpole was brought to you by the letter "t", for "text messaging" the character "新" for shinjuku (新宿), where i was just ariving when i finished this part, and the number "23", for how many minutes that took me to text all this to myself.
-----
Yes folks, from now on, those of you who are interested in the "creative process" or as I call it, "vomiting shenanigans", you can tell which posts are composed on my cell phone (by scrolling through the letters one at a time on a 12 button pad) by my dismissal of capital letters. I make use of proper punctuation, including apostrophies, dashes and even quotation marks, so I don't feel like I am setting a bad example for the children by opting for "all lower case" rather than "THIS IS IMPORTANT" case.
No disrespect meant to you capslock users - it's a far worse offense on the keyboard- but I have been fighting an intense internal battle against the evil forces of IMHO U IZ FUN-E. I LAFFD GUD @ ur jok, u kraZee DUD for a long time.
Anyway,
Sean is an lovely chap, and he happens to have a very lovely girlfriend named Yoshimi. For some unknown reason, Yoshimi apparently feels that it is a good idea to book your boyfriend's birthday at a gay bar.
Now, this is no ordinary gay bar, but in fact, a gloriously awesome performing gay bar. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Tokyo has a queer cabaret. I know that *I'm* surprised that I ended up there.
I also swore to myself that I would NOT be the centre of attention, for once in my miserable life. This resolution, of course, failed almost as spectacularly as it did in Amsterdam when I went to a banana show.
I should point out to those of you who have any sort of inkling to experience a crazy drag show that drinking a boatload of booze will probably enhance your enjoyment of the experience. The line between "moderately funny" (most people know that feeling as "discomfort" or "unease") and "brilliantly hilarious" is about three whiskies wide. I hate to admit it, but cavorting, jiggling pleather-clad man-flesh calls for a drink no matter what language you are enjoying it in.
Fortunately, for our 6000 yen, our hosts were happy to take care of the "idiotic amounts of alcohol" factor, as well as dinner.
Now, these are smart people, and they came up with a brilliant time and labour saving concept for a drinking establishment: forget about using wait staff and bartenders whenever possible.
You might ask yourself...But how will people get their drinks?
Simple: from the bottles of whiskey and vodka that are placed on every table. That's right, each table in the establishment is covered with unopened 26 pounders (that would be 26 oz, or 750 mL), beer, soft drinks, mix and a few buckets of ice. You just pour yourself whatever you feel like, in whatever quanitity you feel like, and voila! Instant repression of 70% of your inhibitions.
The show itself was quite funny, and fairly well put together. The star of the show was a slightly (almost?) past-her-prime european dancer woman, who might for all I know have been a dude at one point (this seems likely). If Pamela or whatever her name was happens to be short one X chromosome, she had a bloody good surgeon because we couldn't tell the difference. Anyway, that wom-man was supported by a bunch of japanese dancers. The J-folk came in the "male" flavour, the "female flavour" and the "some-of-both" flavour.
The show opened with a very large Japanese man in a dress (with a goatee) coming out on stage to make jokes. Since all of the jokes were in Japanese, they were lost on me until I became one. During the shuffling, this large fellow took notice of me. He suddenly pointed at me, said something in Japanese, then he slapped his belly and pointed at me. Following this, everyone in the theatre laughed quite hard. One of the other people in the group explained that he'd said "Woah! Look at that foreigner! I've never lost a big belly competition before!!"
For the rest of the next few hours, he would consistantly point me out with helpful motions like rubbing his belly then pointing to me, or holding the microphone in a "flacid" position, then point to me and ... uh... remedy the situation. Things took a turn for the worse when he brought out the three foot long foam penis and used it to point me out in the crowd.
Other highlights of the show included:
- a topless dance solo by a former man with the most widely spaced boob job I've ever seen.
- a three-man pleather short-short thrust-fest that included the wearing of Aviators and leather cop/S&M hats.
- a long theatric dance that I can only describe as "What If World War II Was Gay".
For the WIWWIIWG skit, the show featured people fake-humping in both homosexual and heterosexual encounters, some woman chasing two sailors around to stop them from making out, and a lot of saluting and wearing army outfits. At the end of the show, they ran out with a banner that I didn't understand, then pulled off someone's pants.
It was art.
Things went further downhill when they asked us if we wanted to stay for another free show. You see, they do three shows per day, and dancing around in a feather boa or neon spandex and stilettoes is no fun if there are only three sketchy dudes in the back smoking. We were loud and drunken, so we stayed.
This time, my large friend wanted me to be slightly more involved in the show. He made this clear by sport humping my leg and panting heavily for about fifteen seconds during his opening monologue (yes... we were in the front row). A little while later, he dragged me on stage to bump chests and sat on my lap. He also gave me a token of his affection. I forget the exact point where he pressed his fan on me, but I'm pretty sure I was being groped for the amusement of at least 20 people when it happened.
Anyway, after the show, there was an opportunity to take a polaroid picture with a few members of the cast. Sean jumped up there and got one with the whole cast.
Amazingly, there were two actual girls in the show. We know this because they introduced most of the "female-like" people as "Mister XXX"!!!! after the show. Two of the girls were introduced as "Miss XXXX", so we assumed that they were the real girls. That helped some of the boys feel better about their place on the sexuality spectrum while they peppered one of the girls with questions about her glamorous show-girl life.
And yes, of course I snagged a disturbing picture with my not-so-secret admirer.
Here it is as a polaroid too. My friend Tom said it best... "Brent, I love that we went up there to take a picture with the hot girl, but you walked up and said 'I want the fat guy!'. I love that."
I'm not sure what the kanji characters say, but I'm pretty sure it's either "hubba hubba" or "call me, big boy". His name is a good guess too.
sherman, lets set the way back machine for "last weekend" and see what we find....
it all started about twenty nine years ago, when a certain man in a certain part of america was born. the stars aligned themselves with the full majesty that is manifest destiny, the red martian god of war was sport humped by jupiter in the house of io, and the sun rose over the land where it is known for doing such things.
after cleaning themselves up, these metaphoric misinterpretations of large rocks gripped in sol's gravity all agreed that sean should, indeed, come to japan.
the above bullshit hyperpole was brought to you by the letter "t", for "text messaging" the character "新" for shinjuku (新宿), where i was just ariving when i finished this part, and the number "23", for how many minutes that took me to text all this to myself.
-----
Yes folks, from now on, those of you who are interested in the "creative process" or as I call it, "vomiting shenanigans", you can tell which posts are composed on my cell phone (by scrolling through the letters one at a time on a 12 button pad) by my dismissal of capital letters. I make use of proper punctuation, including apostrophies, dashes and even quotation marks, so I don't feel like I am setting a bad example for the children by opting for "all lower case" rather than "THIS IS IMPORTANT" case.
No disrespect meant to you capslock users - it's a far worse offense on the keyboard- but I have been fighting an intense internal battle against the evil forces of IMHO U IZ FUN-E. I LAFFD GUD @ ur jok, u kraZee DUD for a long time.
Anyway,
Sean is an lovely chap, and he happens to have a very lovely girlfriend named Yoshimi. For some unknown reason, Yoshimi apparently feels that it is a good idea to book your boyfriend's birthday at a gay bar.
Now, this is no ordinary gay bar, but in fact, a gloriously awesome performing gay bar. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Tokyo has a queer cabaret. I know that *I'm* surprised that I ended up there.
I also swore to myself that I would NOT be the centre of attention, for once in my miserable life. This resolution, of course, failed almost as spectacularly as it did in Amsterdam when I went to a banana show.
I should point out to those of you who have any sort of inkling to experience a crazy drag show that drinking a boatload of booze will probably enhance your enjoyment of the experience. The line between "moderately funny" (most people know that feeling as "discomfort" or "unease") and "brilliantly hilarious" is about three whiskies wide. I hate to admit it, but cavorting, jiggling pleather-clad man-flesh calls for a drink no matter what language you are enjoying it in.
Fortunately, for our 6000 yen, our hosts were happy to take care of the "idiotic amounts of alcohol" factor, as well as dinner.
Now, these are smart people, and they came up with a brilliant time and labour saving concept for a drinking establishment: forget about using wait staff and bartenders whenever possible.
You might ask yourself...But how will people get their drinks?
Simple: from the bottles of whiskey and vodka that are placed on every table. That's right, each table in the establishment is covered with unopened 26 pounders (that would be 26 oz, or 750 mL), beer, soft drinks, mix and a few buckets of ice. You just pour yourself whatever you feel like, in whatever quanitity you feel like, and voila! Instant repression of 70% of your inhibitions.
The show itself was quite funny, and fairly well put together. The star of the show was a slightly (almost?) past-her-prime european dancer woman, who might for all I know have been a dude at one point (this seems likely). If Pamela or whatever her name was happens to be short one X chromosome, she had a bloody good surgeon because we couldn't tell the difference. Anyway, that wom-man was supported by a bunch of japanese dancers. The J-folk came in the "male" flavour, the "female flavour" and the "some-of-both" flavour.
The show opened with a very large Japanese man in a dress (with a goatee) coming out on stage to make jokes. Since all of the jokes were in Japanese, they were lost on me until I became one. During the shuffling, this large fellow took notice of me. He suddenly pointed at me, said something in Japanese, then he slapped his belly and pointed at me. Following this, everyone in the theatre laughed quite hard. One of the other people in the group explained that he'd said "Woah! Look at that foreigner! I've never lost a big belly competition before!!"
For the rest of the next few hours, he would consistantly point me out with helpful motions like rubbing his belly then pointing to me, or holding the microphone in a "flacid" position, then point to me and ... uh... remedy the situation. Things took a turn for the worse when he brought out the three foot long foam penis and used it to point me out in the crowd.
Other highlights of the show included:
- a topless dance solo by a former man with the most widely spaced boob job I've ever seen.
- a three-man pleather short-short thrust-fest that included the wearing of Aviators and leather cop/S&M hats.
- a long theatric dance that I can only describe as "What If World War II Was Gay".
For the WIWWIIWG skit, the show featured people fake-humping in both homosexual and heterosexual encounters, some woman chasing two sailors around to stop them from making out, and a lot of saluting and wearing army outfits. At the end of the show, they ran out with a banner that I didn't understand, then pulled off someone's pants.
It was art.
Things went further downhill when they asked us if we wanted to stay for another free show. You see, they do three shows per day, and dancing around in a feather boa or neon spandex and stilettoes is no fun if there are only three sketchy dudes in the back smoking. We were loud and drunken, so we stayed.
This time, my large friend wanted me to be slightly more involved in the show. He made this clear by sport humping my leg and panting heavily for about fifteen seconds during his opening monologue (yes... we were in the front row). A little while later, he dragged me on stage to bump chests and sat on my lap. He also gave me a token of his affection. I forget the exact point where he pressed his fan on me, but I'm pretty sure I was being groped for the amusement of at least 20 people when it happened.
Anyway, after the show, there was an opportunity to take a polaroid picture with a few members of the cast. Sean jumped up there and got one with the whole cast.
Amazingly, there were two actual girls in the show. We know this because they introduced most of the "female-like" people as "Mister XXX"!!!! after the show. Two of the girls were introduced as "Miss XXXX", so we assumed that they were the real girls. That helped some of the boys feel better about their place on the sexuality spectrum while they peppered one of the girls with questions about her glamorous show-girl life.
And yes, of course I snagged a disturbing picture with my not-so-secret admirer.
Here it is as a polaroid too. My friend Tom said it best... "Brent, I love that we went up there to take a picture with the hot girl, but you walked up and said 'I want the fat guy!'. I love that."
I'm not sure what the kanji characters say, but I'm pretty sure it's either "hubba hubba" or "call me, big boy". His name is a good guess too.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Tagged
So, a few weeks ago, I was "tagged" by my good friend Heather. She is a wonderful girl, and I really enjoy her blog. Of course, she is also an inspiration because she is good enough to update said blog every day (cough, cough, cough…. Ummm… yeah. )
Anyway… she posted a link where she “tagged” me, which means that I must post the answers to her questions or face certain karma death.
Not being so interested in karma death, I am of course obliged to post something in response to her challenge. On the other hand, I have also sworn to myself that this blog will NOT ever stoop to the “today I ate chicken” level. I remain firmly committed to the “today I ate chicken after being sport humped by a 140 kilogram Japanese man with a goatee wearing a small red dress and a feather boa” mantra.
Therefore, I will attempt to twist the following questions as far away from the original “I’m a dirty forward and you will have horrible things happen to you if you don’t forward my horrible threat-e-ness to 2393 of your closest friends” ethos.
Ok. Enough making nice.
And, Heather…? Uh…. sorry for making fun. You know I care. : )
Ok… without further ado… here is my spin on some sweetly specific questions about my life.
20 years ago I…
…was not even 10% as cute as this girl.
I was also certainly not allowed into bars as she is (The highly observant folk will have already noted that there is a mostly full beer glass beside her.) And 20 years ago, said bars certainly did not serve vanilla ice cream… and NOR DID MY PARENTS ALLOW ME TO EAT IT BY LICKING IT FROM THE BOWL WITHOUT LIFTING SAID BOWL FROM THE FREAKING TABLE.
Then again, my parents also instilled in me a healthy disrespect for the “capslock key” which should seriously be banned from computers everywhere. Holding down the shift key is certainly an appropriate toll to help keep the average user from sounding like a total tool.
10 years ago I…
...never could have imagined that I would spend a highly inebriated night teaching six drunken Japanese people how to “fuck”.
In less suggestive language, that would be “how to use the word fuck.”
Lesson 1: Complaining. “Just put ‘fucking’ in front of whatever the problem is. Eg. ‘fucking trains’ or ‘fucking old people’. Voila… instant compliant”.
Lesson 2: Fuck in various word classes.
As a verb or phrasal verb: (a) Fuck off! (b) Fuck me! (c) Fuck you! (d) You fucked up. (e) Fuck him up, man. (f) John fucked Betty. (g) John fucked Betty over.
As a noun: (a) You’re a stupid fuck. (b) Keiko is a great fuck. (c) Fucking is a lot of fun.
As an adjective: Dude…. that’s fucked.
As an adverb: That’s fucking awesome!
As an exclaimation: (a) What the fuck?!?! (b) FUCK!
As nearly every word in a sentence… or paragraph: Fucking fuckity fuck-fuck. That was a fucking fuck up, you fucking fucktard. Now we’re fucking fucked beyond all fucking reason. What the fucking fuck are we going to fucking do? Fuck!
Lesson 3: Dude, this is fucked up, and so are we. I’m going to lose my fucking job.
Five years ago I…
…had a goatee. I’m still bitter about having to shave it, and am protesting in a suitable ghandiesque, peaceful manner. I’m growing mad “mutton chops.”
Kihondosa? Is that some kind of Korean food?
/”Kihondosa” or きほんどさ, means “professionalism”. It’s a huge part of corporate culture in Japan. I try to hurt it whenever possible. … incidentally, my keyboard converts the hiragana character to kanji as 基本度さ, but that may mean “hit him with a book and take his lunch money” for all I can tell, as 本 (hon or “book”) is the only character I recognize.
Three years ago I…
….worked at this wacky job where I kept a very strange schedule. I didn’t have to work until the afternoon, but I worked well into the evening. I also happened to work with some crazy drunks, drink far too much myself, and generally had a lot of crazy adventures. I also met some people who slurred their words and had terrible pronunciation.
Wow, I sure have come a long way since working as a bar manager.
One year ago I…
…was a credit to the University environment. Unfortunately, I worked in University and college-targeted marketing, and that “credit” generally came in the form of “Visa cards” and “Mastercards”. Of course… I paid off $800 of library fines with my shiny new MBNA Queen’s Mastercard and was thus able to receive my degree, graduate and all that good stuff. Heck, it saved me skulking back to my parents and admitting that I drank away waaaay too much money. So… credit can be a great thing! In the Engrish of the day…. Let’s charging it!
So far this year I…
1) Met Stephen Segal
2) Reminded myself that Chuck Norris is still cooler.
3) Stayed bitter about not inserting myself into a picture with him.
4) Felt better after writing “The Sacrifice”.
5) Went to a beer festival. This was only remarkable because of the following anectode…
The beer festival was held in a large hall. I was standing around, enjoying delicious Japanese facsimiles of beer from all over the world, when a middle aged (or older) Japanese lady made eye contact and smiled. I assumed that she might be a student I’d met or someone I’d forgotten… so I smiled back. She waved, and I returned the wave, and she sauntered over. She smiled at me and said “Hello.”
I said, “Hi, how are you?”
“I am great!”
“Ummm…” I smiled, already realizing that I’d made a huge mistake. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes,” she grinned at me. “I. want. foreign… man.”
“Er…good….” (Think quickly, Merry Man. This is turning ugly faster than a Keanu Reeves/Sandra Bullock rendition of Hamlet). “Saaaay… do you like beer?”
She smiled her most winning smile, “Yes! I like beer very much!”
“Wow!” I said, “…me too! I’m going to go and get some. Have a great day!”
Sometimes, I tell myself that I am the David Blane of evading sketchy 1950’s issue Japanese people’s pick up attempts.
Today I…
…taught the most amazingly brilliant dialogue ever created for teaching ESL. It was hella hard not to laugh, and I know that the people writing the textbooks wrote this at 4 am the day before it was due, and laughed themselves silly for the next week.
Topic: Ordering food in a casual restaurant.
Dialogue from the textbook:
Waitress: Would you like bacon, or sausage.
Betty: mmm…. Give me sausage.
Waitress: Ok. Would you like anything else?
John: Yes, two coffees please.
Waitress: Ok.
Betty: Oh, can I get some cream?
Waitress: Sure.
/ For any of my Japanese buddies that read this… “Sausage” is slang for “Penis”. “Cream” is slang for a certain related substance. Use your imagination, or ask someone else…
Tomorrow I will…
1)…eat ten to twelve pieces of sweet, raw sushi for breakfast. The local conveyer or “kaitenzushi” place (かいてんずしゆ) has salmon sashimi on the 110 yen plate. They also have free soup. So, a filling sashimi lunch can be mine for under $6.
2) …not start class until 6 pm. I still have a 12:00 meeting, so I have to drag my sorry ace out of bed at the crack of 11:05. Life is hard.
In the next year I will…
…cause Freddie Mercury to make 2385 revolutions in his grave with drunken karaoke renditions of “Don’t Stop Me Now”. …and, in honour of figuring out how to get the “Japanese characters” function working on my keyboard, I will tell you all that most of you have been mispronouncing “karaoke”. It’s not “Care-ee-oh-key” as you think, but actually “ka-rah-oh-kay” (カラオケ) and like many words here, it comes from mashing at least one foreign word with another word (either foreign or Japanese). The “ka-ra” is from the Japanese word for “empty” and the “oh-key” is from oo-ke-su-to-ra (オケストラ) or “orchestra”.
Incidentally, far and away the word I have encountered that is most distant from its origin is “oh-ee-ru”（おえる？）which means “female while collar employee.” It comes from “O.L.”, which stands for “Office Lady”. Linguistic evisceration and sexism meet surprisingly often in Japan.
In the next minute I will tag…
Fish - get blogging, you punk!
Geoff, because he swings that way.
Dave, to see if he can muster an answer without sacrificing his artistic dignity.
Palmala Handerson, that slut.
Anyway… she posted a link where she “tagged” me, which means that I must post the answers to her questions or face certain karma death.
Not being so interested in karma death, I am of course obliged to post something in response to her challenge. On the other hand, I have also sworn to myself that this blog will NOT ever stoop to the “today I ate chicken” level. I remain firmly committed to the “today I ate chicken after being sport humped by a 140 kilogram Japanese man with a goatee wearing a small red dress and a feather boa” mantra.
Therefore, I will attempt to twist the following questions as far away from the original “I’m a dirty forward and you will have horrible things happen to you if you don’t forward my horrible threat-e-ness to 2393 of your closest friends” ethos.
Ok. Enough making nice.
And, Heather…? Uh…. sorry for making fun. You know I care. : )
Ok… without further ado… here is my spin on some sweetly specific questions about my life.
20 years ago I…
…was not even 10% as cute as this girl.
I was also certainly not allowed into bars as she is (The highly observant folk will have already noted that there is a mostly full beer glass beside her.) And 20 years ago, said bars certainly did not serve vanilla ice cream… and NOR DID MY PARENTS ALLOW ME TO EAT IT BY LICKING IT FROM THE BOWL WITHOUT LIFTING SAID BOWL FROM THE FREAKING TABLE.
Then again, my parents also instilled in me a healthy disrespect for the “capslock key” which should seriously be banned from computers everywhere. Holding down the shift key is certainly an appropriate toll to help keep the average user from sounding like a total tool.
10 years ago I…
...never could have imagined that I would spend a highly inebriated night teaching six drunken Japanese people how to “fuck”.
In less suggestive language, that would be “how to use the word fuck.”
Lesson 1: Complaining. “Just put ‘fucking’ in front of whatever the problem is. Eg. ‘fucking trains’ or ‘fucking old people’. Voila… instant compliant”.
Lesson 2: Fuck in various word classes.
As a verb or phrasal verb: (a) Fuck off! (b) Fuck me! (c) Fuck you! (d) You fucked up. (e) Fuck him up, man. (f) John fucked Betty. (g) John fucked Betty over.
As a noun: (a) You’re a stupid fuck. (b) Keiko is a great fuck. (c) Fucking is a lot of fun.
As an adjective: Dude…. that’s fucked.
As an adverb: That’s fucking awesome!
As an exclaimation: (a) What the fuck?!?! (b) FUCK!
As nearly every word in a sentence… or paragraph: Fucking fuckity fuck-fuck. That was a fucking fuck up, you fucking fucktard. Now we’re fucking fucked beyond all fucking reason. What the fucking fuck are we going to fucking do? Fuck!
Lesson 3: Dude, this is fucked up, and so are we. I’m going to lose my fucking job.
Five years ago I…
…had a goatee. I’m still bitter about having to shave it, and am protesting in a suitable ghandiesque, peaceful manner. I’m growing mad “mutton chops.”
Kihondosa? Is that some kind of Korean food?
/”Kihondosa” or きほんどさ, means “professionalism”. It’s a huge part of corporate culture in Japan. I try to hurt it whenever possible. … incidentally, my keyboard converts the hiragana character to kanji as 基本度さ, but that may mean “hit him with a book and take his lunch money” for all I can tell, as 本 (hon or “book”) is the only character I recognize.
Three years ago I…
….worked at this wacky job where I kept a very strange schedule. I didn’t have to work until the afternoon, but I worked well into the evening. I also happened to work with some crazy drunks, drink far too much myself, and generally had a lot of crazy adventures. I also met some people who slurred their words and had terrible pronunciation.
Wow, I sure have come a long way since working as a bar manager.
One year ago I…
…was a credit to the University environment. Unfortunately, I worked in University and college-targeted marketing, and that “credit” generally came in the form of “Visa cards” and “Mastercards”. Of course… I paid off $800 of library fines with my shiny new MBNA Queen’s Mastercard and was thus able to receive my degree, graduate and all that good stuff. Heck, it saved me skulking back to my parents and admitting that I drank away waaaay too much money. So… credit can be a great thing! In the Engrish of the day…. Let’s charging it!
So far this year I…
1) Met Stephen Segal
2) Reminded myself that Chuck Norris is still cooler.
3) Stayed bitter about not inserting myself into a picture with him.
4) Felt better after writing “The Sacrifice”.
5) Went to a beer festival. This was only remarkable because of the following anectode…
The beer festival was held in a large hall. I was standing around, enjoying delicious Japanese facsimiles of beer from all over the world, when a middle aged (or older) Japanese lady made eye contact and smiled. I assumed that she might be a student I’d met or someone I’d forgotten… so I smiled back. She waved, and I returned the wave, and she sauntered over. She smiled at me and said “Hello.”
I said, “Hi, how are you?”
“I am great!”
“Ummm…” I smiled, already realizing that I’d made a huge mistake. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes,” she grinned at me. “I. want. foreign… man.”
“Er…good….” (Think quickly, Merry Man. This is turning ugly faster than a Keanu Reeves/Sandra Bullock rendition of Hamlet). “Saaaay… do you like beer?”
She smiled her most winning smile, “Yes! I like beer very much!”
“Wow!” I said, “…me too! I’m going to go and get some. Have a great day!”
Sometimes, I tell myself that I am the David Blane of evading sketchy 1950’s issue Japanese people’s pick up attempts.
Today I…
…taught the most amazingly brilliant dialogue ever created for teaching ESL. It was hella hard not to laugh, and I know that the people writing the textbooks wrote this at 4 am the day before it was due, and laughed themselves silly for the next week.
Topic: Ordering food in a casual restaurant.
Dialogue from the textbook:
Waitress: Would you like bacon, or sausage.
Betty: mmm…. Give me sausage.
Waitress: Ok. Would you like anything else?
John: Yes, two coffees please.
Waitress: Ok.
Betty: Oh, can I get some cream?
Waitress: Sure.
/ For any of my Japanese buddies that read this… “Sausage” is slang for “Penis”. “Cream” is slang for a certain related substance. Use your imagination, or ask someone else…
Tomorrow I will…
1)…eat ten to twelve pieces of sweet, raw sushi for breakfast. The local conveyer or “kaitenzushi” place (かいてんずしゆ) has salmon sashimi on the 110 yen plate. They also have free soup. So, a filling sashimi lunch can be mine for under $6.
2) …not start class until 6 pm. I still have a 12:00 meeting, so I have to drag my sorry ace out of bed at the crack of 11:05. Life is hard.
In the next year I will…
…cause Freddie Mercury to make 2385 revolutions in his grave with drunken karaoke renditions of “Don’t Stop Me Now”. …and, in honour of figuring out how to get the “Japanese characters” function working on my keyboard, I will tell you all that most of you have been mispronouncing “karaoke”. It’s not “Care-ee-oh-key” as you think, but actually “ka-rah-oh-kay” (カラオケ) and like many words here, it comes from mashing at least one foreign word with another word (either foreign or Japanese). The “ka-ra” is from the Japanese word for “empty” and the “oh-key” is from oo-ke-su-to-ra (オケストラ) or “orchestra”.
Incidentally, far and away the word I have encountered that is most distant from its origin is “oh-ee-ru”（おえる？）which means “female while collar employee.” It comes from “O.L.”, which stands for “Office Lady”. Linguistic evisceration and sexism meet surprisingly often in Japan.
In the next minute I will tag…
Fish - get blogging, you punk!
Geoff, because he swings that way.
Dave, to see if he can muster an answer without sacrificing his artistic dignity.
Palmala Handerson, that slut.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Tidbits 3: In defiance of all description....
Japan is a hilarious place. I have managed to make a great many jokes (mostly at my own expense)... but now and again something comes along that almost goes beyond words.
If they say a picture is worth a thousand words, these next ones would probably fit pretty well with 333 each of "What", "the" and "fuck". (for you mathy people with your fancy adding, feel free to add one "man?" at the end to make it an even thousand.
I didn't know you could order this "to go..."
Cokeheads look at these people and think "You've got too much money, man."
In the train station convienence store, teenage clerks take security very seriously.
I swear, one of these days I'm going to see a "Let's not terrorism!" sign....
Also, a new contender has emerged to challenge "Sensei, you go in and you go out, but do you go down?" for the BEST ACCIDENTAL ENGLISH FILTH award.
The lesson: "Saying you're sorry."
What the student meant: "Sorry for stepping on your foot."
Quote: "Sorry for coming on your shoe."
fin.
If they say a picture is worth a thousand words, these next ones would probably fit pretty well with 333 each of "What", "the" and "fuck". (for you mathy people with your fancy adding, feel free to add one "man?" at the end to make it an even thousand.
I didn't know you could order this "to go..."
Cokeheads look at these people and think "You've got too much money, man."
In the train station convienence store, teenage clerks take security very seriously.
I swear, one of these days I'm going to see a "Let's not terrorism!" sign....
Also, a new contender has emerged to challenge "Sensei, you go in and you go out, but do you go down?" for the BEST ACCIDENTAL ENGLISH FILTH award.
The lesson: "Saying you're sorry."
What the student meant: "Sorry for stepping on your foot."
Quote: "Sorry for coming on your shoe."
fin.
Friday, May 19, 2006
The Japanese Gourmet: how to rid your home of most of the unwanted gaijin
Last weekend, I met my dear buddies Atsushi, Nick and Takuya for some metaphorical ass-kickery in the form of a board game. But more on that later.
Nick and Takuya were delayed by women, or beer, or some combination of those things, so I met Atsushi several hours before the generally girl-repellant fun of playing board games was set to begin. Atsushi, being a stellar host, went to the trouble to prepare dinner. But not just any dinner....
Oh no.
It was a spread of foods that seemed purposely designed to send most westerners charging for the phone to order pizza or to the conveinence store to hold up mystery triangles of rice and loudly ask "chicken where? chicken where?!!?!!?" in broken japanese .
Here are some pics...
The spread, complete with rice beer
Large Snails, shell and foot intact.
Baby Squid. Imagine 20,000 leagues under the sea, then drop four zeroes.
and of course... Pate! Plus there was also a delicious tuna salad and some crackers... so I'm exadgerating about the inedibility of it all. But hey, ok, now that I've gotten rid of Geoff's mother and any vegetarians in the audience, I can certainly tell you that I *LOVED* the meal.
After all, I'm not your average foreigner OR your average culinary adventurer. I love to try new things and enjoy new tastes. And lets not forget about some of the things I have eaten since coming to Japan. To be honest, this stuff is here because it LOOKS crazy, rather than because it IS crazy. You've all eaten escargot, and probably had calimari rings at some point in your life. So, this just has a little more shell, a little less deep fry, and two more eyes per bite.
The eyes were crunchy, actually.
PS: With regards to board games, we played none other than "Settlers of Catan", which is a brilliant game. It's brilliant because its saleable to everyone from geeks ("it's kind of like Civilizations!") to girls ("its kind of like Monopoly!") to tyranical despots ("It's kind of like taking over a small, hexagonal planet!"). We certainly played until 6 am, when it was time to stop drinking and join the monday morning commute.
Valuable lesson of the day: Approximately 5% of Japanese commuters will reciprocate an early morning high five offered by a drunk white guy*.
*Sample size: ~3983 over 3 train lines. This survey is acurate to +/- 398 people, 19 drunken times out of 20.
Nick and Takuya were delayed by women, or beer, or some combination of those things, so I met Atsushi several hours before the generally girl-repellant fun of playing board games was set to begin. Atsushi, being a stellar host, went to the trouble to prepare dinner. But not just any dinner....
Oh no.
It was a spread of foods that seemed purposely designed to send most westerners charging for the phone to order pizza or to the conveinence store to hold up mystery triangles of rice and loudly ask "chicken where? chicken where?!!?!!?" in broken japanese .
Here are some pics...
The spread, complete with rice beer
Large Snails, shell and foot intact.
Baby Squid. Imagine 20,000 leagues under the sea, then drop four zeroes.
and of course... Pate! Plus there was also a delicious tuna salad and some crackers... so I'm exadgerating about the inedibility of it all. But hey, ok, now that I've gotten rid of Geoff's mother and any vegetarians in the audience, I can certainly tell you that I *LOVED* the meal.
After all, I'm not your average foreigner OR your average culinary adventurer. I love to try new things and enjoy new tastes. And lets not forget about some of the things I have eaten since coming to Japan. To be honest, this stuff is here because it LOOKS crazy, rather than because it IS crazy. You've all eaten escargot, and probably had calimari rings at some point in your life. So, this just has a little more shell, a little less deep fry, and two more eyes per bite.
The eyes were crunchy, actually.
PS: With regards to board games, we played none other than "Settlers of Catan", which is a brilliant game. It's brilliant because its saleable to everyone from geeks ("it's kind of like Civilizations!") to girls ("its kind of like Monopoly!") to tyranical despots ("It's kind of like taking over a small, hexagonal planet!"). We certainly played until 6 am, when it was time to stop drinking and join the monday morning commute.
Valuable lesson of the day: Approximately 5% of Japanese commuters will reciprocate an early morning high five offered by a drunk white guy*.
*Sample size: ~3983 over 3 train lines. This survey is acurate to +/- 398 people, 19 drunken times out of 20.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The Sacrifice
Monday was a dark, dark day in the life of Brent. For the first time, our (anti)hero returned to his home regretting having done something selfless for a friend. This was no ordinary regret, either, but deep seated sadness stabbing into the tender mushy parts of his being.
The day began like any other Monday: wide eyed and full of boundless opportunity for mischief making. The previous night's nightmare of a large Japanese man in a feather boa waving fake penises and humping our hero's leg was swiftly fading to nothingness. An old and dear friend was coming to town for a brief 'shopover'. The sun was shining, and the oversized, mutant Tokyo crows were cawing from nearby powerlines with gleeful rancor. There would be sumo! Sumo! That joyous event where large men in tiny loincloths smash into each other for large amounts of sponsorship dollars in an language you don't understand. Yes, the day was indeed looking good.
Leaping out of bed after only seven impacts with the snooze button, Brent met his friend downtown and enjoyed a most excellent day of shopping, coffee and rehashing old stories. After a farewell and an emotional high five, it was out and down the Tokyo rail tracks to the sumo stadium.
The view was wonderful, and the seats were worth every one of the 10000 yen that Brent not so foolishly squandered on the afternoon's fatstivities. A camera phone with no real zoom button to speak of captured the moment perfectly, especially the stage spotlights...
The box was red, soft, and very comfortable. It was also pumped full of all of the wonderful innuendoes that can be spouted in such a situation. The fun in the box reached its climax while our (anti)hero was eating in the box. Although he had to wait for several large men to finish their sweaty action, Brent managed to fit in what was more than a good point.
Holding his sushi dinner, Brent turned to the girl nearby. "Karen," he smiled, "this box smells a bit like fish."
The box was super comfortable because the other two people we had intended to share the box with were able to get their own box!
From the smile on his face, one can clearly make out "cloud nine" in the distant depths below Brent's glee. Still, it is easy to see in retrospect that the highest highs can only end with the lowest lows. Most people with a "C" or better in high school science know that Newton was the asshole responsible for alerting the general public to this particular bit of party-ruining physics. Although scientists and Virgin Galactic exectutives everywhere hail this schmuck's discovery that "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction", it has long been known in may circles that Karma is indeed a bitch.
Which brings us to the point where Brent's fortunes soured.
From the heady heights of the soft and luxuriant box, to the thrilling smash of hundreds of sweaty pounds of man-meat into other hundreds of pounds of sweaty man meat, it seemed that there could be no better moment to complete the day.
Then, He was there.
A man. A legend. A giant among giants. A glorious ray of comic gold, blessed with fists of steel and acting of lead. A walking blog-punchline wet dream, and sweetly hilarious opportunity embodied. Best of all, He was walking unflustered through a crowd of completely obvlious Japanese folk who had the misfortune to be born in a land of anime rather than sweet explosioney goodness.
Jumping forward and feinting the entourage with a pair of girls pouring on as much "we're EXTRA cute groupies" as their eyelashes could handle, we managed to score a few minutes of His time. It was then that it happened. A horrid, terrible lapse in judgement. Unforgivable, yet burned to this day into retinas and grey matter alike, it could be labeled a 'mistake' only by bitter understatement.
Ignoring everything that our (anti)hero has learned from the Japanese about how to treat women, Brent offered to take a photo and let the women jump in first. The cell phone camera thundered its fake shutter sound as it fulfilled its manifest destiny on earth.
The "saving" bar appeared, doing anything *but* saving the day. It trudged along without mind, far slower than the golden opportunity that slipped away with a nod to the bodyguards and a quick exit out of the stadium.
The opportunity, like the second most awesome action hero without facial hair or a government post, was gone.
All but inconsolable, our hero stalked home to the steady beat of "fuckfuckfuckfuck... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.... It was Stephen FUCKING Segal!!!" and tossed himself into his futon, grinding his teeth at the lost punchline.
Time and a good night's sleep can do wonders for stripping away a man's anger. In Brent's case, a day or so is usually enough to sandblast away almost any damage to his superhumanly inflated ego. Frustration turns to ire, which itself degrades into huffyness, followed by eight seconds of pouting, then self mockery, and eventually, blogging.
Somewhere after the pout but before the blog comes reflection:
Why am I here? Why do I seek out comic gold wherever I can find it. For self glory? Do I want fame, fortune and everything it goes with it, and thank you all? But that would be no bed of roses.... no pleasure cruise. I consider it a challenge before the whole human race, and I ain't gonnaaa loooooooossssssssseeeee.....
As Freddie Murcury rolled in his leather grave, a smile crept across our (anti)hero's face. Despite the missed opportunity to record the moment for later glee, the fact remained that Brent had been able to come within kung-fuing distance of Stephen Segal. The grin widened further, as Brent started to rip himself away from the squandered photo opportunity, and focus more about the significance of the event on a galactic scale. A thought slowly knit itself together in Brent's head. "I was there," he thought slowly. "He was right in front of me, and I took his willing picture. That has to count for something."
From Robertson Davies' Fifth Business to Billy Crystal in "The Princess Bride", and from Sideshow Mel in "The Simpsons" to Xenu in Tom Cruise's life, every story needs a supporting character. Much like Tostitos or shots of melon liquor in first year university, supporting characters lube everything up for a smoother time. Everyone needs to be that background, forgetable, unfunny character in the story of life. And just for once, it didn't kill Brent to step back and let someone else win the "Ok, so this one time...." crown for the day.
But then, a shadow rose in our (anti)hero's mind. Fucking Newton. How to phrase all this? How should this tale of glory and failure, triumph and defeat... of...of sheer humanity be packaged appropriately for the critical world of self-publishing?
Surely not a monologue. Clouds of hesitation became thunderheads of doubt, as Brent pondered the sheer amount of melodrama that had to be shoehorned into this tale of loss and redemption. A punchline had to be stretched for paragraph upon paragraph, when a simple post of the picture and "I took this. :( Me no LOL. Brento = p0wn3d." would easily defeat the strict literary filters that Google maintains to protect English in the blogosphere.
What to do? What literary device would be equal to the olympian task at hand?
Then suddenly, out of the shadows of 95% of the books published each year, the Third person stepped into the forefront. Smiling, he brushed the clouds of doubt aside like mixed metaphors at a mullet convention.
"I'll do it," he said.
Unfunny Notes to kill the moment:
1) The thought I put myself to sleep with upon getting home was "At least it wasn't Chuck Norris..." Chuck Norris is far superior in every way to Jackie Chan, Hulk Hogan, and Arnold, but these are the action heroes that form the basis for this line: "The opportunity, like the second most awesome action hero without facial hair or a government post, was gone. "
2) "Fifth Business" is a stellar book that I read in Grade Nine English class. You can only imagine how good a book has to be for someone to be able to force me to read it AND have me like it enough to make obscure references to it over ten years later. If you've read it, let me know next time we hang out, and I'll buy you a beer.
3) When you've got Tostitoes, you've got a party. This was a slogan used to advertise tortilla chips in North America in the early part of the decade.
4) By offering "a beer" in note #2 I've neatly excluded Geoff (who doesn't drink). By asking you to "mention it next time we meet", I've also neatly excluded most of you, dear readers, who will likely have had this post pushed out of your short term memory by a thrilling ringtone or a filling quiche before the next time we meet.
5) If you are ACTUALLY interested in Sumo, here are some sweet pics, courtesy of my good friend Geoff and his super camera, which I hereby cristen "Skynet: the portable edition". Geoff was on the upper deck, despite the "hanging over the middle of the ring" look.
No, no, fuck YOU.
Check out this sweet choke hold.
Ah, sweet momentum.
By the way, this bulgarian dude ("Kotooshu") is easily the most popular wrestler. Everyone chants and cheers his name whenever he fights. People seriously love him. Maybe its because he's winning without the whole "get super fat" thing.
There are also other white dudes, like this guy who got made into someone's bitch about 36 seconds after this picture.
Of course, it's Sumo. A lot of people get made into bitches.
The day began like any other Monday: wide eyed and full of boundless opportunity for mischief making. The previous night's nightmare of a large Japanese man in a feather boa waving fake penises and humping our hero's leg was swiftly fading to nothingness. An old and dear friend was coming to town for a brief 'shopover'. The sun was shining, and the oversized, mutant Tokyo crows were cawing from nearby powerlines with gleeful rancor. There would be sumo! Sumo! That joyous event where large men in tiny loincloths smash into each other for large amounts of sponsorship dollars in an language you don't understand. Yes, the day was indeed looking good.
Leaping out of bed after only seven impacts with the snooze button, Brent met his friend downtown and enjoyed a most excellent day of shopping, coffee and rehashing old stories. After a farewell and an emotional high five, it was out and down the Tokyo rail tracks to the sumo stadium.
The view was wonderful, and the seats were worth every one of the 10000 yen that Brent not so foolishly squandered on the afternoon's fatstivities. A camera phone with no real zoom button to speak of captured the moment perfectly, especially the stage spotlights...
The box was red, soft, and very comfortable. It was also pumped full of all of the wonderful innuendoes that can be spouted in such a situation. The fun in the box reached its climax while our (anti)hero was eating in the box. Although he had to wait for several large men to finish their sweaty action, Brent managed to fit in what was more than a good point.
Holding his sushi dinner, Brent turned to the girl nearby. "Karen," he smiled, "this box smells a bit like fish."
The box was super comfortable because the other two people we had intended to share the box with were able to get their own box!
From the smile on his face, one can clearly make out "cloud nine" in the distant depths below Brent's glee. Still, it is easy to see in retrospect that the highest highs can only end with the lowest lows. Most people with a "C" or better in high school science know that Newton was the asshole responsible for alerting the general public to this particular bit of party-ruining physics. Although scientists and Virgin Galactic exectutives everywhere hail this schmuck's discovery that "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction", it has long been known in may circles that Karma is indeed a bitch.
Which brings us to the point where Brent's fortunes soured.
From the heady heights of the soft and luxuriant box, to the thrilling smash of hundreds of sweaty pounds of man-meat into other hundreds of pounds of sweaty man meat, it seemed that there could be no better moment to complete the day.
Then, He was there.
A man. A legend. A giant among giants. A glorious ray of comic gold, blessed with fists of steel and acting of lead. A walking blog-punchline wet dream, and sweetly hilarious opportunity embodied. Best of all, He was walking unflustered through a crowd of completely obvlious Japanese folk who had the misfortune to be born in a land of anime rather than sweet explosioney goodness.
Jumping forward and feinting the entourage with a pair of girls pouring on as much "we're EXTRA cute groupies" as their eyelashes could handle, we managed to score a few minutes of His time. It was then that it happened. A horrid, terrible lapse in judgement. Unforgivable, yet burned to this day into retinas and grey matter alike, it could be labeled a 'mistake' only by bitter understatement.
Ignoring everything that our (anti)hero has learned from the Japanese about how to treat women, Brent offered to take a photo and let the women jump in first. The cell phone camera thundered its fake shutter sound as it fulfilled its manifest destiny on earth.
The "saving" bar appeared, doing anything *but* saving the day. It trudged along without mind, far slower than the golden opportunity that slipped away with a nod to the bodyguards and a quick exit out of the stadium.
The opportunity, like the second most awesome action hero without facial hair or a government post, was gone.
All but inconsolable, our hero stalked home to the steady beat of "fuckfuckfuckfuck... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.... It was Stephen FUCKING Segal!!!" and tossed himself into his futon, grinding his teeth at the lost punchline.
Time and a good night's sleep can do wonders for stripping away a man's anger. In Brent's case, a day or so is usually enough to sandblast away almost any damage to his superhumanly inflated ego. Frustration turns to ire, which itself degrades into huffyness, followed by eight seconds of pouting, then self mockery, and eventually, blogging.
Somewhere after the pout but before the blog comes reflection:
Why am I here? Why do I seek out comic gold wherever I can find it. For self glory? Do I want fame, fortune and everything it goes with it, and thank you all? But that would be no bed of roses.... no pleasure cruise. I consider it a challenge before the whole human race, and I ain't gonnaaa loooooooossssssssseeeee.....
As Freddie Murcury rolled in his leather grave, a smile crept across our (anti)hero's face. Despite the missed opportunity to record the moment for later glee, the fact remained that Brent had been able to come within kung-fuing distance of Stephen Segal. The grin widened further, as Brent started to rip himself away from the squandered photo opportunity, and focus more about the significance of the event on a galactic scale. A thought slowly knit itself together in Brent's head. "I was there," he thought slowly. "He was right in front of me, and I took his willing picture. That has to count for something."
From Robertson Davies' Fifth Business to Billy Crystal in "The Princess Bride", and from Sideshow Mel in "The Simpsons" to Xenu in Tom Cruise's life, every story needs a supporting character. Much like Tostitos or shots of melon liquor in first year university, supporting characters lube everything up for a smoother time. Everyone needs to be that background, forgetable, unfunny character in the story of life. And just for once, it didn't kill Brent to step back and let someone else win the "Ok, so this one time...." crown for the day.
But then, a shadow rose in our (anti)hero's mind. Fucking Newton. How to phrase all this? How should this tale of glory and failure, triumph and defeat... of...of sheer humanity be packaged appropriately for the critical world of self-publishing?
Surely not a monologue. Clouds of hesitation became thunderheads of doubt, as Brent pondered the sheer amount of melodrama that had to be shoehorned into this tale of loss and redemption. A punchline had to be stretched for paragraph upon paragraph, when a simple post of the picture and "I took this. :( Me no LOL. Brento = p0wn3d." would easily defeat the strict literary filters that Google maintains to protect English in the blogosphere.
What to do? What literary device would be equal to the olympian task at hand?
Then suddenly, out of the shadows of 95% of the books published each year, the Third person stepped into the forefront. Smiling, he brushed the clouds of doubt aside like mixed metaphors at a mullet convention.
"I'll do it," he said.
Unfunny Notes to kill the moment:
1) The thought I put myself to sleep with upon getting home was "At least it wasn't Chuck Norris..." Chuck Norris is far superior in every way to Jackie Chan, Hulk Hogan, and Arnold, but these are the action heroes that form the basis for this line: "The opportunity, like the second most awesome action hero without facial hair or a government post, was gone. "
2) "Fifth Business" is a stellar book that I read in Grade Nine English class. You can only imagine how good a book has to be for someone to be able to force me to read it AND have me like it enough to make obscure references to it over ten years later. If you've read it, let me know next time we hang out, and I'll buy you a beer.
3) When you've got Tostitoes, you've got a party. This was a slogan used to advertise tortilla chips in North America in the early part of the decade.
4) By offering "a beer" in note #2 I've neatly excluded Geoff (who doesn't drink). By asking you to "mention it next time we meet", I've also neatly excluded most of you, dear readers, who will likely have had this post pushed out of your short term memory by a thrilling ringtone or a filling quiche before the next time we meet.
5) If you are ACTUALLY interested in Sumo, here are some sweet pics, courtesy of my good friend Geoff and his super camera, which I hereby cristen "Skynet: the portable edition". Geoff was on the upper deck, despite the "hanging over the middle of the ring" look.
No, no, fuck YOU.
Check out this sweet choke hold.
Ah, sweet momentum.
By the way, this bulgarian dude ("Kotooshu") is easily the most popular wrestler. Everyone chants and cheers his name whenever he fights. People seriously love him. Maybe its because he's winning without the whole "get super fat" thing.
There are also other white dudes, like this guy who got made into someone's bitch about 36 seconds after this picture.
Of course, it's Sumo. A lot of people get made into bitches.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Drag Queen Handball
Today will be the first in a continuing series of posts about men who dress up as women. After all, since we are talking about cultural differences, why not add another layer? Especially when it’s so hilariously fun.
Alright, now that we’re rid of everyone from the far right…we can set the scene.
Near my school, there is a nice little French bar run by a very cheerful Japanese man (who worked at the consulate in France for years). His bar has about ten seats, and is attached to the liquor store that his parents run. We warmed to each other because we speak about the same amount of French – little to none, but enough to handle ordering drinks!
The best features of this place are:
1) You can buy any bottle of wine at his Parents’ liquor store and bring it into the bar for free. Brilliant on so many levels, not least of which being “price” and “selection”.
2) He cooks! Every week, he offers a of small Japanese-French fusion dishes. From smoked salmon garlic toast to “takenoko pork stew”, there is always something tasty.
3) Its kind of like the Japanese version of Cheers. The same people go there all the time, and its reaaaaaallly small, so you almost have to talk to strangers. It rocks.
The owner is really an upstanding chap. He asks that I call him “Shin-chan”, as Japanese people make friendly nicknames by adding “chan” to the first syllable of a name. (They also happen to use –chan between lovers, and for girls under 16… so basically anyone who isn’t a –san…)
In any case, the “community” aspect of the place came out in force over golden week, when Shin-chan organized a BBQ at the nearby Tama River. By the way, there is a river near my school. It’s nice.
Kaori, my co-teacher, enjoys the calm before the drinking.
So, this barbeque had a price tag of 3000 yen, which very reasonably included a wide selection of tasty meat, seafood, noodles, salad and more.
It also included a bottomless helping of drinks from the bar. If you ever happen to be a drinking-related situation in Japan, the word you want is “nomehodai”. Please take a moment to write that down, class.
Ok, got that? Good.
/Storytime continues.
By the time I’d dragged myself out of bed and arrived at the crack of noon, Shin-chan was set up nicely by the river with two kegs and a crate of 1.5L bottles of wine. Sweet.
Further still adding to the hilarious-ity was a large group of powder blue clad 14 year old girls. Now, you may think that it would be odd to bring a group of underage girls to a drinking party, but the Japanese don’t see drinking in front of kids as an issue. It turns out that Shin-chan’s daughter happens to play on the same team as one of my students!
Chee-zu!
Best of all: they’re a “Handball” team. I certainly resisted the urge to turn that particular title into an impromptu lesson on vulgar English.
So… great party.
What was the kicker, you ask? What made this admittedly common occurrence merit my abduction of fifteen odd minutes of your time to read this?
Ah…that’s easy.
Mi-kun.
Yes, Mi-kun (which actually means “dude” in Japanese, or so I was told), is a forty something year old salaryman. During the week, he wears a suit, rides the train, and probably smokes like the Springfield tire fire*– all in the tried and true tradition of the Japanese salarayman. On weekends, however, he busts out a very special outfit. To introduce the sheer awesomeness of this outfit, we will play a very special game that is only available on my wonderful adventure-filled website.
Spot the Drag Queen.
Ah, sweet drag queen-ery. Kaori informed me that Mi-kun is actually a regular at the bar. Apparently, s/he also came to the barbeque of the previous year, but no one talked to hier. I also suck at mixing my male and female pronouns. What I don’t suck at, though, is adapting my inate English teaching ability for the target audience. So, I am happy to report that I taught Mi-kun how to use the word “Fabulous”. After all, when forty years of age you reach, look as good you will not. Especially if a man wearing a tiny miniskirt you are.
90% Faaaaaaaaaaaaabulous.
10% Thumbass.
Oh, Mikun did much better at the BBQ this year. S/he made lots of new friends…. Which leads us to the special LIGHTNING ROUND of “Spot The Drag Queen”…
Ready?
GO!
I want to point out two very important things.
1) Drag Queens make everything funnier.
2) I have no shame. Even when it comes to giving out backrubs to EVERYONE sitting at the table in the bar afterwards.
* - Obscure? Maybe. Think “the Simpsons”
Alright, now that we’re rid of everyone from the far right…we can set the scene.
Near my school, there is a nice little French bar run by a very cheerful Japanese man (who worked at the consulate in France for years). His bar has about ten seats, and is attached to the liquor store that his parents run. We warmed to each other because we speak about the same amount of French – little to none, but enough to handle ordering drinks!
The best features of this place are:
1) You can buy any bottle of wine at his Parents’ liquor store and bring it into the bar for free. Brilliant on so many levels, not least of which being “price” and “selection”.
2) He cooks! Every week, he offers a of small Japanese-French fusion dishes. From smoked salmon garlic toast to “takenoko pork stew”, there is always something tasty.
3) Its kind of like the Japanese version of Cheers. The same people go there all the time, and its reaaaaaallly small, so you almost have to talk to strangers. It rocks.
The owner is really an upstanding chap. He asks that I call him “Shin-chan”, as Japanese people make friendly nicknames by adding “chan” to the first syllable of a name. (They also happen to use –chan between lovers, and for girls under 16… so basically anyone who isn’t a –san…)
In any case, the “community” aspect of the place came out in force over golden week, when Shin-chan organized a BBQ at the nearby Tama River. By the way, there is a river near my school. It’s nice.
Kaori, my co-teacher, enjoys the calm before the drinking.
So, this barbeque had a price tag of 3000 yen, which very reasonably included a wide selection of tasty meat, seafood, noodles, salad and more.
It also included a bottomless helping of drinks from the bar. If you ever happen to be a drinking-related situation in Japan, the word you want is “nomehodai”. Please take a moment to write that down, class.
Ok, got that? Good.
/Storytime continues.
By the time I’d dragged myself out of bed and arrived at the crack of noon, Shin-chan was set up nicely by the river with two kegs and a crate of 1.5L bottles of wine. Sweet.
Further still adding to the hilarious-ity was a large group of powder blue clad 14 year old girls. Now, you may think that it would be odd to bring a group of underage girls to a drinking party, but the Japanese don’t see drinking in front of kids as an issue. It turns out that Shin-chan’s daughter happens to play on the same team as one of my students!
Chee-zu!
Best of all: they’re a “Handball” team. I certainly resisted the urge to turn that particular title into an impromptu lesson on vulgar English.
So… great party.
What was the kicker, you ask? What made this admittedly common occurrence merit my abduction of fifteen odd minutes of your time to read this?
Ah…that’s easy.
Mi-kun.
Yes, Mi-kun (which actually means “dude” in Japanese, or so I was told), is a forty something year old salaryman. During the week, he wears a suit, rides the train, and probably smokes like the Springfield tire fire*– all in the tried and true tradition of the Japanese salarayman. On weekends, however, he busts out a very special outfit. To introduce the sheer awesomeness of this outfit, we will play a very special game that is only available on my wonderful adventure-filled website.
Spot the Drag Queen.
Ah, sweet drag queen-ery. Kaori informed me that Mi-kun is actually a regular at the bar. Apparently, s/he also came to the barbeque of the previous year, but no one talked to hier. I also suck at mixing my male and female pronouns. What I don’t suck at, though, is adapting my inate English teaching ability for the target audience. So, I am happy to report that I taught Mi-kun how to use the word “Fabulous”. After all, when forty years of age you reach, look as good you will not. Especially if a man wearing a tiny miniskirt you are.
90% Faaaaaaaaaaaaabulous.
10% Thumbass.
Oh, Mikun did much better at the BBQ this year. S/he made lots of new friends…. Which leads us to the special LIGHTNING ROUND of “Spot The Drag Queen”…
Ready?
GO!
I want to point out two very important things.
1) Drag Queens make everything funnier.
2) I have no shame. Even when it comes to giving out backrubs to EVERYONE sitting at the table in the bar afterwards.
* - Obscure? Maybe. Think “the Simpsons”
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The Japanese Gourmet: Yakiniku
Subtitle: Hot Beef
Yakiniku is the Japanese version of “Barbeque” (We sometimes call it “Korean BBQ” in Canada…) Each table is built with a gas fired flame-pit and grill in the middle, and the staff bring you a ton oof thinly sliced meat dishes. Pork, beef, chicken, seafood, veggies and whatever else you can possibly select based on nice pictures or scary plastic replicas are all available. You then cook the food at your table, dip it in sauce, and eat. Its yummy.
Yakiniku is also one of the best meals ever for a healthy helping of dirty double entendre.
Who wants some meat?
Please give me some meat.
I love beef!
This meat is too hot!
I’m so full of beef!
Would you like some tongue?
Do you want pork? (“to pork” would be grammatically correct….)
Here, grab this beef and give me some pork.
Are you finished with the beef?
That’s a huge piece of beef!
Other suggestions are most welcome.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Tidbits #2
A few tidbits for you:
1) My bike did NOT get stolen this weekend, contrary to my own subconcious efforts. Bike locks here in J-pan are built into the frame. You just click a little hoop closed, which keeps the back tire from rolling, and pocket the key. Of course, this means that anyone driving a camry-sized car or larger can steal 3 or 4 bikes in a given day, because they aren't locked TO anything. Anyway, I pulled the genius plan of leaving my key IN the lock (open), and leaving my bike in the parking lot at my school for the whole weekend. Not only did some nice person NOT steal my bike, but they also took the time to MOVE it into the corner where the open lock would be less visible.
Japanese culture may have some strangely rude moments (like religious aversions to waiting in lines and holding doors for people) but when it comes to honesty and courtesy to strangers, its hard to beat this place.
2) I am going to try to start posting more regularly (twice each week if I can?), as several people have asked me to do so. I have to say that I'm very flattered that people are enjoying my life. I know I enjoy it. So...as my old boss used to say, "Let's have fun with us!" I'll try to make sure that I have twice as many crazy adventures so as to keep a basic level of "idiot" present in each post. I will ALSO try to keep the percentage of posts that involve "peeing" or "penises" to much lower levels....
For those of you who are counting, I'm at 50% over the past 8 posts.
1) My bike did NOT get stolen this weekend, contrary to my own subconcious efforts. Bike locks here in J-pan are built into the frame. You just click a little hoop closed, which keeps the back tire from rolling, and pocket the key. Of course, this means that anyone driving a camry-sized car or larger can steal 3 or 4 bikes in a given day, because they aren't locked TO anything. Anyway, I pulled the genius plan of leaving my key IN the lock (open), and leaving my bike in the parking lot at my school for the whole weekend. Not only did some nice person NOT steal my bike, but they also took the time to MOVE it into the corner where the open lock would be less visible.
Japanese culture may have some strangely rude moments (like religious aversions to waiting in lines and holding doors for people) but when it comes to honesty and courtesy to strangers, its hard to beat this place.
2) I am going to try to start posting more regularly (twice each week if I can?), as several people have asked me to do so. I have to say that I'm very flattered that people are enjoying my life. I know I enjoy it. So...as my old boss used to say, "Let's have fun with us!" I'll try to make sure that I have twice as many crazy adventures so as to keep a basic level of "idiot" present in each post. I will ALSO try to keep the percentage of posts that involve "peeing" or "penises" to much lower levels....
For those of you who are counting, I'm at 50% over the past 8 posts.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Rhymes with Green Tea: a new blogging low
Today, ol' Geoff sensei and I met for dinner at a local sushi restaurant. We go there at least once each week, so the chefs know us on sight. Even better, they know what I want because I always order the same thing: "ski-jee". Its hard to pass up you see, when you can have 10 different kinds of negiri (thats a decent sized slab of fish on a ball of rice, for you people who get your omega 3 acid and fish oil in pill form) , an order of maki (rolls), half an eel and a bowl of shrimp head miso soup (I'll take pics next time. They put the shrimp heads in the soup for extra awesome seafoody-taste)...and all for about 945 yen, or ~$9 canadian. Its also sushi-shop as much free green tee as you can drink.
This "as much as you can drink" was the interesting part today, because we were the only customers. Japanese customer service ettiquite dictates that you should do as much as possible for your customers, up to and almost including spoon feeding them. So, when you want more green tea, they run from the back and bring it to you. I usually start feeling a bit guilty after the fourth time a very nice middle aged Japanese person has run from the back room to pour me a cup of free tea.
Since Geoff and I were the only people there today, I asked if they just LEFT us the pitcher of tea. The staff were a bit hesitant at first, but they eventually decided that no-one would protest their horrible treatment of their customers by leaving the well-beaten plastic pitcher on their immaculate counter. Ah, the sweet glory of self serve.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Geoffery and I managed to drink two pitchers of Green tea in the space of about an hour.
Which brings us to today's lesson:
If you drink a LOT of green tea, you'll have a lot of green pee.
Tune in later this week for an intellectual treatment of international humour: Let's Farting!
/I know this is a new low. Just be thankful that I didn't post any pictures.
//... or video.
This "as much as you can drink" was the interesting part today, because we were the only customers. Japanese customer service ettiquite dictates that you should do as much as possible for your customers, up to and almost including spoon feeding them. So, when you want more green tea, they run from the back and bring it to you. I usually start feeling a bit guilty after the fourth time a very nice middle aged Japanese person has run from the back room to pour me a cup of free tea.
Since Geoff and I were the only people there today, I asked if they just LEFT us the pitcher of tea. The staff were a bit hesitant at first, but they eventually decided that no-one would protest their horrible treatment of their customers by leaving the well-beaten plastic pitcher on their immaculate counter. Ah, the sweet glory of self serve.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Geoffery and I managed to drink two pitchers of Green tea in the space of about an hour.
Which brings us to today's lesson:
If you drink a LOT of green tea, you'll have a lot of green pee.
Tune in later this week for an intellectual treatment of international humour: Let's Farting!
/I know this is a new low. Just be thankful that I didn't post any pictures.
//... or video.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Digging Jozuu
The week of april 29 through may 5th is a national holiday here in Japan. Why, I have no idea, but I certainly enjoy a good week off. Its called "Golden Week." If I can dig up some comedy, I'll report back on the origins of the holiday. If someone died, was born, or invented anything less humourous than the precursor to "kung-fu grip", expect the origins to remain shrouded in mystery.
My original plan had been to join my good pal Geoff in
You see, I happen to be fortunate enough to have befriended a few very cheerful nihoongeen folk since my arrival. One fellow, Atsushi, has the absolute best disjoint between his actual age and his apperance/behavior. In terms of years, he is what you would call "middle aged". But if you meet him.... you would swear that he’s in his late twenties. See for yourself.
Now, I’m not about to reveal his real age, since he is a good enough man to read this blog, but suffice to say that he has a bunch of friends that are in their forties.
So... Atsushi invited my good friend Nick and I, along with a few other J-folk, to join of one of his ex-coworkers plus their friends and family for some sort of “digging party”. While this confused me, (the best explaination I managed to get was that we would have digging that involved some sort of bamboo sticks), it seemed like a fun time.
So, I snagged a gift and headed out there. Remember: being invited to someone's home is an even bigger deal here in Japan than it is in North America. For future reference, bringing something from your country is a big hit, but I have long since exhasted my supply of moose keychains and maple cookies. So... I went with that safest of gifts, a bottle of decent red wine. I firmly believe that wine is a safe gift anywhere except
Let me tell you… this day turned out to be one of the best cultural experiences – at least in terms of how the average Japanese person lives their life – that I have had since getting here. We spent a good hour sitting around a one foot high table swapping jokes, enjoying some finger food and a few drinks. Best of all for my language immersion experience, Nick and I were the sole native English speakers out of the twelve people there, so most of the jokes were in Japanese.
After a bit, we ventured out into the forest for the day’s fun. Said 'fun' actually happened in the forest behind our hosts’ apartment.
The takenoko are actually rather easy to find. (they stick about two or three inches through the underbrush when they are ready to eat). They are even easier to find when you are armed with a pair of 12 year old Japanese kids to run manically through the woods screaming whenever they find one.
Please see exhibit A. ("Hail Xenu, Jr.")
I'm joking. He and his sister were actually super cool kids. We even played hide and seek in the woods. (I called on my svelte figure and earthy tan to defeat all comers, of course)
After a few hours of wandering and digging, we managed to unearth about twelve or fifteen nice sized bamboo roots.
We carried our prizes back to the house, where our host’s wife took them behind the counter and included them in a few of the 10 odd courses that we enjoyed over the next six hours. We laughed, drank, enjoyed tasty food and generally had a great time. I learned some new Japanese words, and the ladies took turns sending their husbands over to “practice their English”. Trying to communicate in two different languages at once is a very interesting (and often fun) experience. I have a VERY few basic words and basic verbs, but most of the others had a solid working knowledge of English. This ensured that we didn’t just stare at each other and say things like “funny is!” and “yummy yummy food” – these phrases are, of course, my standard dialogue when I speak to Japanese people who DON’T have a working knowledge of English.
In any case, we made lots of jokes, especially with dear old Takuya, who is a a standup chap. I happen to know him by virtue of his being my fellow teacher’s girlfriend’s older brother.
Alas, the poor chap turns bright red after about four to six beers. He had to lie on the floor with a wet towel on his head for a bit while I taught the entire room a great English idiom: (point at Takuya: “He can’t hold his beer”. Point at Atsushi: “He CAN hold his beer”). This is much better than the usual 'Engrish' phrase: "Atsushi is strong at drink. "
It was grand fun.
I suppose the best way to leave this is my personal idea of how I felt digging up those Takenoko.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Wicked things OTHER people's students have said
So, I wanted to share with you a brief incident that happened long ago, but which I just learned of.
One of the students at my school has an english level of "5" on the scale of 1 to 10. This means that he is in that grey area where he could have a native speaking english teacher, but could also have a japanese speaking teacher.
It so happens that the two Japanese english teahers (or "JETs" as they are known in company parlance) are particularly good at their jobs, and also teach level "6" students, but this is a pointless point, other than the point of your information and ... showing off my typing skills. wheeee!)
....
Anyway, this student was (un?)fortunate enough to receive a downgrade of his teacher status. He departed from my native speaking co-worker's class and went back to a JET class because of scheduling issues. No offense meant to my two talented co-workers, but still... that sucks. And it serves to set the scene...
One day, he called the school to explain that he couldn't come because he had to go to his uncle's funeral.
My dear coworker, Jamie Sensei, who is (as you can guess) his former native english teacher and not so hot at the whole "japanese" thing, answered the phone.
Unfortunately, our student in question couldn't think of the word "Funeral", so... he settled for the closest thing in his mind.
"Sorry, Jamie Sensei... I can't come to class. I have to go to my uncle's.... goodbye party."
which is sort of true, I guess.
Anyway, Jamie told him to "have a great time, and give your uncle my best wishes for his trip."
the student couldn't think of how to explain, so he just said "OK! I will!"
and that was that, until he happened to have a class with one of the JETs that touched on "parties"...this lesson helped him learn a new word AND led to the anecdote that led to this post.
ok. Funny finished is.
One of the students at my school has an english level of "5" on the scale of 1 to 10. This means that he is in that grey area where he could have a native speaking english teacher, but could also have a japanese speaking teacher.
It so happens that the two Japanese english teahers (or "JETs" as they are known in company parlance) are particularly good at their jobs, and also teach level "6" students, but this is a pointless point, other than the point of your information and ... showing off my typing skills. wheeee!)
....
Anyway, this student was (un?)fortunate enough to receive a downgrade of his teacher status. He departed from my native speaking co-worker's class and went back to a JET class because of scheduling issues. No offense meant to my two talented co-workers, but still... that sucks. And it serves to set the scene...
One day, he called the school to explain that he couldn't come because he had to go to his uncle's funeral.
My dear coworker, Jamie Sensei, who is (as you can guess) his former native english teacher and not so hot at the whole "japanese" thing, answered the phone.
Unfortunately, our student in question couldn't think of the word "Funeral", so... he settled for the closest thing in his mind.
"Sorry, Jamie Sensei... I can't come to class. I have to go to my uncle's.... goodbye party."
which is sort of true, I guess.
Anyway, Jamie told him to "have a great time, and give your uncle my best wishes for his trip."
the student couldn't think of how to explain, so he just said "OK! I will!"
and that was that, until he happened to have a class with one of the JETs that touched on "parties"...this lesson helped him learn a new word AND led to the anecdote that led to this post.
ok. Funny finished is.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Karaoke, with hats!
One of the most economically entertaining places I have ever been in my life is a “super arcade” near my friend Nick’s apartment. The place is called “JJ club”, but a more accurate translation would be “Chuck-E Cheese For Grownups” (*) Not only are these people nice enough to let you register your name as anything you want (say, “Barento Pimpo” for example), you can also play a ton of crazy video games, use batting cages, kick soccer balls at targets, check your email, read comics (in Japanese, sadly), FISH indoors and even sing karaoke. Best of all, EVERYTHING there is included for your hourly fee (I think its about 400 yen for each hour, or you can go all night for 1500 yen ($15). All the games are on free mode, and even the beer is only 300 yen. So, basically, it’s a wicked awesome fun time for less than the cost of one movie in the theatre.
Anyway, I went there with Nick, Atsushi, Takuya, Adam, and two girls who jokingly told me not to blog about them. Even though they told me they were joking and would be happy to be on here, they will remain nameless out of spite. (But not faceless. Bwa ha ha ha…)
(Mystery Friend “B”, with Nick and Atsushi.
Thus armed with all the tools we needed to achieve budget nirvana, we played video games and sang karaoke all night. There were some memorable moments, including the “Michael Jackson Meledy”, Queen, and any number of show tunes.
(If you’re familiar with Home Star Runner… Strong Bad would say “AndrewLloydWebber’ed!!!!”)
Basically, this night was only remarkable for one single fact (apart from the fun we had, of course)… we decided that everyone ought to wear hats.
But not just any hats…
Dirty Sanchez and Mystery Friend “K”
HA!
As I always say, you can’t go out Sombrero-ing without a fake moustache.
We stumbled out into the broad sunlight (not sunrise, not even close… it was MORNING and no doubt about it – 7:30 am or so) and headed back to crash at the Eda apartments these nice folk all live in.
I slept with the sombrero on my head to keep the sunlight out. In a stunning bit of wisdom that I can't undersell, Nick's first words upon seeing me lying on his floor in the late afternoon.
Any time you wake up with a sombrero beside you, you’ve partied too hard.
Wise words.
(*) For all two of my Japanese fans and for Geoff’s mom, “Chuck-E Cheese’s” is a chain of children’s play places that specialize in birthday parties. They have lots of arcade games, play places and skee-ball, etc. Basically, it’s a place where parents can feed their kids lots of pizza and let them run amok for a few hours with video games.
Anyway, I went there with Nick, Atsushi, Takuya, Adam, and two girls who jokingly told me not to blog about them. Even though they told me they were joking and would be happy to be on here, they will remain nameless out of spite. (But not faceless. Bwa ha ha ha…)
(Mystery Friend “B”, with Nick and Atsushi.
Thus armed with all the tools we needed to achieve budget nirvana, we played video games and sang karaoke all night. There were some memorable moments, including the “Michael Jackson Meledy”, Queen, and any number of show tunes.
(If you’re familiar with Home Star Runner… Strong Bad would say “AndrewLloydWebber’ed!!!!”)
Basically, this night was only remarkable for one single fact (apart from the fun we had, of course)… we decided that everyone ought to wear hats.
But not just any hats…
Dirty Sanchez and Mystery Friend “K”
HA!
As I always say, you can’t go out Sombrero-ing without a fake moustache.
We stumbled out into the broad sunlight (not sunrise, not even close… it was MORNING and no doubt about it – 7:30 am or so) and headed back to crash at the Eda apartments these nice folk all live in.
I slept with the sombrero on my head to keep the sunlight out. In a stunning bit of wisdom that I can't undersell, Nick's first words upon seeing me lying on his floor in the late afternoon.
Any time you wake up with a sombrero beside you, you’ve partied too hard.
Wise words.
(*) For all two of my Japanese fans and for Geoff’s mom, “Chuck-E Cheese’s” is a chain of children’s play places that specialize in birthday parties. They have lots of arcade games, play places and skee-ball, etc. Basically, it’s a place where parents can feed their kids lots of pizza and let them run amok for a few hours with video games.
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