Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Fingers' LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, November 10th, 2009
12:10 pm	Tuesdays've Got To Go. This post is actually about placing short contractions after long words in the spirit of the title word, "Tuesdays've". No it's not. But I have to say that I like that particular type of contraction because to me, such contractions're meaningless. You've run a mile and now you've got the choice to run either three more feet or two more feet. The core of the issue, however, is that Tuesdays are no good. It's the longest day of work, not only for me, but for all human beings who work on Tuesdays, and especially those human beings who ONLY work on Tuesdays, if such people exist. Last week, by some bizarre twist of fate, Tuesday was removed from existence. Monday happened. I went to work as usual. I came home and slept. I woke up, went to Nanzan University for a reunion scheduled for Tuesday, found nobody there, went home in the evening, slept, woke up again, and it was Wednesday. With Tuesday gone, the work week felt more like a summer vacation peppered with occasional fun 'n games sessions. Today, Tuesday's back. It brings with it the rain and a lack of direction. Although I suppose Wednesday is likely to come next. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 17th, 2009
10:02 pm	Ode to Ryouji the Snot Boy I think that I shall never know A child whom I'd rather throw Into a pot of heated coals Or off the stage of a punk rock show I can't perceive how there could be A boy as snotty as is he His face a-twitch, he yelps and squeals And not a trait of his appeals To girls sitting adjacently, His bare feet roam habitually And contrary to my requesting Rarely ceaseth his molesting I now recall that long ago, I once predicted we'd be foes But new moons passed whenst he were decent Most of them not very recent For now none doth harm frequently Nor childishly as doth he And should you glimpse his twitchy semblance, Surely you would find resemblance To the critters, ghouls, and gremlins, Of the coming Hallowed Eve. For he, The Boy, may think it not, But I know he's a little snot, And all the other tikes and tots Can see that he's not worth a lot So if he hollers let him rot And let the mother grieve Afterword: In reality I would also grieve if he rotted. I wish him well. A well distance away from me. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, August 24th, 2009
7:26 pm	Happy birthday, Bri-guy! I purposely delayed this message so that you wouldn't be disturbed, since it would feel like you're being spoken to from the future, but before I knew it Sarah had already happy birthday'd you on Facebook, and now I feel ashamed that she beat me since technically I live in the future. Anyway, I hope you have a grand slam of a day! Also, could you transmit your mailing address to me somehow, for top secret reasons? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009
1:51 pm	Birthday and Sigourney Weaver So my birthday ranged from terrible to livably okay. As I said before, Yoko and I both have colds, so we had to cancel our plans to go to Nagoya, which weren't all that ambitious in the first place. Instead, we wandered around Tajimi. We discovered a new Italian restaurant, which was good, but we kind of got into an argument there and spent half the time in silence. After that we wandered around for awhile before deciding to just rent the Ghostbusters movies, eat some fancy cake at the local fancy cake shop, and go home. We also bought a bar for our closet. The kind that uses tension to support itself so you don't have to make any holes. Well, two video stores didn't have Ghostbusters, and the third store did. But as soon as we left the store it started pouring rain, presumably making us even sicker since we were on bikes. Fearing this, we decided to skip the birthday cake and just go home. Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters II were good, but not really BIRTHDAY good. When I was a kid I used to watch Ghostbusters II every single day. When you turn twenty-five and you still haven't thought of anything better to do, it puts you in a bit of a dark mood. Also, though, have you ever noticed that the plots of both Ghostbusters movies are terrible? The performances are so good and visual effects so charming that you hardly even think about it. You really have to respect the actors, and in particular I think Sigourney Weaver has an incredible ability to make the most ridiculous concepts halfway convincing. I won't refer to the original Alien because that movie is magical in pretty much every way, but Sigourney pretty much single-handedly saved Aliens, and pushed Alien 3 to "amazing" status (in my mind). And to those who say "What about Alien: Resurrection? That sucked!", well, that's just a sign of how incredibly sucky that movie was. Even she couldn't save it. Especially since they made her a mutant clone monster. I guess I'll have some kind of "makeup" birthday when we're both feeling better, if that ever happens. This cold just hit the two-week mark. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, June 20th, 2009
9:20 am	Twenty-five, here it is Today I'm twenty-five. This song pretty much sums up birthdays anymore. Please listen. It's awesome. Also, funfact: it was in the Mallrats soundtrack and never released on any other album. Yoko and I both have colds, so there will be little to no festiveness tonight, but there's not a whole lot to do in this town anyhow. (Comment on this)
Sunday, June 14th, 2009
11:26 am	Inner Ear Infection (Sunday) It is Sunday and I've been sick. You know, a cold gets described as all these things, but ultimately it's just a sort of variety show for snot. How many ways can snot impede your life? Actually it's more like watching snot reenact the migration of American pioneers across the Oregon Trail. It starts in nose country, and spreads out towards either your throat (uh, Louisiana?) or your godforsaken ears (the West Coast). Everyday it makes a stop in a new place, enduring (er, causing) whatever trials may come along with it. Today we're in ear infection country. These Apaches can't be reasoned with so get the muskets. They'll never take us alive. I don't think I've had an ear infection since I was about seven. Back then they used to make you drink foul, white liquid. Now WebMD is just telling me to tough it out. Luckily, Tough It Out is my middle name. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 10th, 2009
2:18 pm	Snow Country A new song! You know the spiel--amateur recording, sorta sounds like crap. Try listening on headphones. Here's the lyrics. There's no way to stop the rain, It persecutes the driest plain and overfloods the paths that we have walked for days and days And there's no use in recreating melodies nor memories, No I want something more unique to fill my nights and days We have got to get out of this mess, yeah So why don't we find someplace that's a little less stressed than this? 'Cuz I just want to forget all of these crazy days So why don't we go up North where we can chill? There's no way to bring that rain when water's all gone down the drain The grass is always greener where it dances with the grain And window panes nor cellophane shall block views of the inhumane So let's find someplace more opaque and wander in the maze We have got to get out of this mess, yeah So why don't we find someplace that's a little less populous? 'Cuz I just want to forget all of these crowded days So why don't we go up North where we can get away? In the Snow Country We'll forget this all In the Snow Country In the Snow Country We'll forget this all There's no way to beat the sun It cuts the rules for everyone And lords itself above us with the promise of the day And I'm not blamin' anyone for poison that has touched this tongue, No I'm just saying toxically I've got to get away 'Cuz we have got to get out of this mess, yeah So why don't we find someplace with a little bit more finesse? 'Cuz I just want to forget all of this senselessness So why don't we find someplace where we can break down? Oh it's the Snow Country We'll forget this all In the Snow Country In the Snow Country We'll forget this all We've walked for days and days We've walked for days and days We've walked for days and days We've walked for days and days In the Snow Country In the Snow Country We'll forget this all We'll forget it all 'Cuz we have got to get out of this place, yeah So why don't we find someplace with a little more providence? 'Cuz I'm just looking for a place to bury my pain So why don't we head up North where we can change? Link! (Might take a few hours to upload) (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009
12:16 am	Flying is scary I used to be all right about flying. They say children have the most active imaginations, but it wasn't until reaching my mid-twenties that I was able to envision my own death with such vivid terror. I find now that every time I get on a plane is more excruciating and nerve-wracking than the last. Sixteen hours is a pretty big window of time to allow something--and take your pick of WHAT thing, since there are about a billion choices--to go wrong. And every time I make the trip I'm just increasing my chances, if by only a miniscule amount. Then there's been this story. Horrifying. The odds of dying in a plane accident may not be very high, but when you're the lucky winner, you're in for one of the most horrible methods of death I can think of. My new assistant at work used to work as a flight attendant, and she was telling me today how it's not so bad, that if you die in the crash it's nearly instantaneous. "It's just like, boom, dead!" she said comfortingly. Yeah, that's the instant that the plane crashes. But that doesn't account for the preceding minute or so of plummeting to your absolute death as the sub-par airline food returns up to your mouth. Even worse is if you somehow manage to survive the initial impact but then find yourself in the middle of the Pacific ocean, either drowning or floating hopelessly until you starve to death or get eaten by something. How do people who fly a lot fly so much? And on that note, I always thought teleportation was the substitute for me, but then a couple weeks ago I saw The Fly. Holy shit. (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, May 23rd, 2009
10:55 am	I just had a rad dream where I was still in Japan but all the shop clerks were replaced with American rednecks who were even more prejudiced. When I went to check out at a store (I was buying a white board which I had tested out while waiting in line by telling a random girl in the line "Let's write a poem. What's your favorite color?" (her favorite color was a color I had never ever heard of!) and which had impressed me even though the marker was dripping shitloads of ink) clerks started silently signaling each other until one came over to assist me in checking out. When it was my turn to pay, the cashier lady didn't even look at me, she just whispered the price to the assistant, which was in yen. I was like "Hey, I understand English." I couldn't write a scene like that if I tried. Dreams are cool. But seriously, pet peeves about cashiers in Japan: 1) Speaking to me through whatever Japanese person happens to be standing next to me, which is a sign of the following (incorrect) assumptions: -White people don't understand Japanese. -Japanese understand white people tongue. 2) Speaking to me in bad English on the assumption that my Japanese is even worse. I had a door-to-door saleswoman tell me to go home once. She didn't mean it. Besides, I WAS home. Usually people aren't that shitty, but it happens. Sometimes they also give me the finger. Just kidding. (Comment on this)
Monday, May 18th, 2009
1:16 pm	I AM REVIVEN!!!! So add it to your dictionaries now. Finally got a new computer. I can't remember if I already explained, but my beloved and only four-year-old iBook met an untimely and drunken fate over our long holiday ("Golden Week") when I accidentally spilled beer on it and then submerged the entire unit in a soapy, water-filled bathtub. A friend told me it would work! Anyway, it was already unusable once the beer had been spilled. And as much as it stings to suddenly part with two thousand dollars, which was most of my bonus for putting in a whole year of loyal service to my company, it sure is exciting getting a new computer. These new MacBooks are sleeker than speedboats covered in glass dolphins. And that's the second sleekest thing I can think of. Next to new MacBooks. Fun times ahead. I suppose I should use this as an opportunity to urge all you friends to get Skype if you don't already have it. We could be talking in real time, whenever we want, for free, with video for crying out loud. And dammit it's lonely out here. Last week I saw a moth and I wouldn't let him leave. (Comment on this)
Monday, May 4th, 2009
11:06 am	BLINK! I tried so hard today to go to a cafe that isn't a gargantuan, nation-wide chain, but all the small places are evidently closed on Sundays, because who wants to go out for a leisurely cup of coffee on their one and only day off for the week (no such thing as a Saturday for most people here)? Not knowing each place's operating hours (or even locations) ahead of time, this had me wheelin' around on my bike back and forth like a paperboy with extremely premature Alzheimer's. Up the road, down the road and back again. I passed one couple four times. By the end of it I must've had them thinking I was an apparition (which, by the way, most Japanese people I've met here are alarmingly quick to assume. Hey, what's that stain on the floor? Ghost did it, spilled some cranberry juice, the spooky-ass butterfingers. Hey, whose footsteps do I hear? Ghost's, that's the only explanation. But you said Japanese ghosts don't have feet, you explicitly told me that a breath ago. Yeah but they know how to simulate that sound. You gotta sorta thwock your tongue against the roof of your mouth, like ::THWOCK:: No no no, you're just clucking, that's different. Ghosts don't do that shit). I passed another spot by a busy road twice within about five minutes. The second time I passed, the whole area was deep in the chaotic aftermath of an accident. A large, expensive-looking thing had its front completely smashed in, another car had some other area smashed in (I didn't get a good look), and a confused woman stood with a cop in the middle of the road, making a dimwitted face that was pretty much immediately telling of her driving aptitude. I mean call it an unfair generalization, but that was definitely the face of a terrible driver and an anti-Semite. Five minutes at most and all this. If I had hit a couple more red crosswalk signals on the way I might've witnessed the accident first-hand. I might've even been sandwiched between cars as I tried to bike across the street only to have our new friend the rocket scientist careen into me at full force in her armored soccer mom dreadnought. They don't even have soccer moms here, just their cars. It got me thinking about how much can happen in the five minute space where you're blinking. It doesn't have to be five minutes though, and you don't have to be blinking. You could go out of town on business for the weekend and in the meantime your wife meets a hunky man with one of those chins that's been severely dented by an unhappy lumberjack, proceeds to find some point of commonality with him, proceeds to be seduced, have hot, cheaty sex with him, and become pregnant with his baby, also with lumberjack-sculpted chin. You return home just forty-eight hours later and your world has been virtually nuked. What did I do? I left town two years and three months ago, and then I went back in December and my country had no money and we had a black president (not a bad thing, sorry). Next time I go back there'll be an epidemic and no such thing as Chrysler. In a couple years I'll go back and DC will be infested with radroaches and road warriors and shit. When have you blinked only to open your eyes to vast change? Ultimately I ended up settling for Mister Donut, which is not only a chain, it's just about the biggest coffee-selling chain in the entire country. I guess my resolve to help out the little guy collapsed under the weight of my sudden reminder: time is of the essence. Do what you want to do now, because next time you blink they might drop the bomb. Also, for god's sakes, how could a cafe not be open on Sundays? It's not like any of these quaint little coffee shops offer takeout for the workperson on the go. Each one I visit is lazier and cool jazzier in atmosphere than the last. They might as well give them all names that are variations on "Sunday Cafe" because that's exactly the day you'd think they're perfect to go to on when you see them. ::Sigh, man:: What a backwards-ass place this is. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 20th, 2009
1:09 pm	Places That Rock or Don't: Za Meshiya Let's say you live in Japan and you're one of the millions of people who've been feeling the tug of this economic crisis. OR, let's say you have terrible, terrible taste in cuisine. Where do you go for breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Za Meshiya, that's where. "Za Meshiya" translates to "The Meshiya", or "The Food Store" if you want to go all the way, but with an even humbler kick, so I guess you could even call it "The Grub Shack" or something like that. Also, Za Meshiya is huge, so you can't miss it. It's even got an enormous sculpture of a chain out front, presumably because it's a chain store, but possibly because it's run by the insane. Za Meshiya offers a variety of traditional Japanese dishes, served at unpredictable temperatures ranging from ice cold to warehouse crate warm, and all for unprecedentedly cheap prices. I don't believe I've seen anything there that was above the two-hundred yen range. The way it works is similar to a school cafeteria, in that you pick up your desired items, each labeled with a price tag, off a counter which is attended by a woman who is your grandma. But if you should find yourself at one of Za Meshiya's many locations one day, be sure to note that those low price tags and humble decor bear on themselves a bit of foreshadowing; Za Meshiya is the school cafeteria of Japanese food. I went there today (whenever that was) for the second time (so it's not that bad). Boy was I hungry. "Meshi time!!!" I exclaimed as I burst through the door, terrifying my own grandma. I picked up a few items, and then cast my glance upon the bean sprout stir fry. "Gee," I said loudly, "I could eat that." The portion was large but it looked appetizing. And I'm no rookie when it comes to bean sprouts, I can tell you that. But then I saw the fried rice. "Hmm, but maybe the fried rice is the safer option," I announced. After all, it's fried rice. There's no way to mess it up. But is there any health value to it? At least bean sprout stir fry is mostly vegetables, with just that little bit of protein in what looked like pieces of beef. Bean sprout stir fry it is. With that decided, I took my seat, took my chopsticks, and took a bite. Awful. I could've stirred a better fry in my toilet. What spices did they use, oxygen and broken refrigerator condensation? It certainly tasted like oxygen and broken refrigerator condensation. Were they bean sprouts or long, slender strips of dirt? I gurgled a bit as I choked down the first mouthful of disappointment. A table of hungry salarymen glanced over at me, smirking. Not good. Cheap, shitty food is like milk to these people. I can't afford to show them any weakness. I'll be the laughingstock of the Grub Shack. I choked down another bite. Okay. Maybe I can get into a comfortable rhythm. Bite, bite, deny reality. Bite, bite, deny reality. Luckily, there was a giant pitcher of tea on the table, which, though also dirt-flavored, was tea, so I didn't even notice. I occasionally washed the horror out of my mouth with a cup of tea, trying not to look too desperate. I just had to be the big man and pick up the largest entree available. Now I was responsible for dealing with a virtual mountain of excrement, with people's leering gazes upon me from all sides. I knew just how Obama felt. A group of high school boys watched me gleefully as I struggled. The seconds went by like centuries. "Look at that guy with the fully in-tact eyebrows. What a doofus! Snicker!" one of them said, actually pronouncing the word "snicker". "Totally radical!" another added. A bead of sweat trickled down my face, cascading into my cafeteria dirt. Ah, some salty water ought to up the flavor a bit. Bite. Nope. Bite, bite, deny reality. Bite, bite, deny reality. The whole lunch went more or less like this, for about three excruciating decades. I'm an old man now, but I've come here today to tell you that Za Meshiya is not a great place to eat lunch, especially when there's an Indian restaurant a block away where your girlfriend works and you can probably get free chicken soup or something like that. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
10:52 am	Technically not too late yet! Happy birthday, Sarah! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 1st, 2009
11:18 pm	April Fool's in Japan Well, another April Fool's Day has come and gone without incident. I still feel like I've never really experienced this holiday the way it's supposed to be experienced. Where do you have to go to find people who are all fooling the shit out of each other all day, only to stick out their tongues, slap their asses and head for the hills? Obviously not Japan. I was surprised to learn today that April Fool's Day does indeed exist in Japan. You'd think that with all the bowing and needless apologizing they do here, a holiday dedicated to the act of making people look foolish wouldn't vibe so well with the people. And to an extent, you'd be right. The second thing I learned today was that in Japan, April Fool's Day is "the day when it's okay to lie." I guess that's sort of right, in the sense that lying is essentially the simplest type of prank one can pull. Example: Sally: Hey Billy. Today I had sex with another man. Billy: What? But I...I l-l-love you...Sally. Don't you...I mean don't you love me anymore? Oh my god, this is crazy. This is so crazy. How could you? Was he better than me? I mean did he have a bigger cock? Who was it? It was Harold from the office, wasn't it? I KNEW you and him were fucking, I KNEW IT!! I KNEW IT!!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!!?!? HOW??!?!?!?! COULD YOU!!!! ....DO THIS!?!?!?!?! Sally: April Foooool's! But that's so lazy. Japanese people don't understand that the beauty of April Fool's Day lies in devising the ultimate prank, which may, but certainly doesn't have to, involve lying. You don't have to lie to put spider eggs in someone's handkerchief or wrap their child's daycare center in police tape. Besides, I would've thought it was okay to lie EVERYDAY in Japan, considering all the bullshit I hear flying around at every turn. Isn't that what a tatemae basically is, anyway? Look it up, dammit. (Comment on this)
11:12 pm	Fraud at City Hall I went to the city hall today to update my Proof of Being a Foreigner Card, which is convenient to have in case people mistake you for a Japanese person (which in actuality has happened to me about twice). The process of updating your Proof of Being a Foreigner Card consists of going to the city hall, waiting around for awhile, and then having somebody write your visa details on the back of the card with a ball-point pen. In reality, you're supposed to do this within two weeks of updating your visa, which I knowingly failed to do. Being late presents no actual problem, but in the end they made me fill out a multiple choice form explaining my reason for being late. The choices were all things like "I didn't know I had to do this" and "I was too busy". My question is, does this form have any kind of impact on anything? I circled the "busy" option. I wonder if I'll be snatched up by a couple of suits in a few days. MOORE, GREGORY DANIEL Offense: Fraud Details: Claimed to be "too busy" to have city official write single line of ink on back of Proof of Being a Foreigner Card when granted a full two weeks to do so. I guess they'd be right. (Comment on this)
12:33 am	More About the Strange American Girl Note: First referenced a long time ago in the post about going to play in Nagoya and seeing a fist fight. The strange American girl was petite and called herself "Bernice". I think she was trying to size me up and compare herself to me, which is behavior you sometimes see in gaijin, especially ones who are studying Japanese. Until we both played our open mic sets, everything she said felt mildly condescending. "I'm from near Philly. Probably closer than you really are to D.C." That's a funny thing to guess. We had a dialogue like this: Bernice: "So how many songs have you prepared?" Greg: "Prepared? Just however many they let me play." Bernice: "...Oh. So you write your own songs then?" Greg: "Well sure, who else would?" Bernice: "...Oh. So I guess you're a teacher?" Greg: "Yeah, at a cram school." Bernice: (Makes inexplicable yuck face) ...Oh. A 'juku', eh?" Greg: "Yeah. Actually it's a much nicer gig than my old gig--working at Nova." Bernice: "...Oh. How long have you been in Japan?" Greg: "Two years." Bernice: "...Oh." Well, maybe it's lost in the text, but every question she had seemed laced with this sort of competitive prejudice, and every answer I gave elicited a caught-off-guard reaction, only to be followed by another calculated question. Then after we played, it was like I had proven myself, and her attitude was completely different. Her questions didn't cease, but became more of the advice-asking variety, and she also kept resting her hand on me, which I actually didn't notice until she pointed out that she was doing it and then explained that it wasn't flirting, but how if it had been flirting, her boyfriend, who she had just performed with, would "kill" her. Thinking this a rather grave situation, I waved to her boyfriend, Shinji, who had prior been doing a terrible job of making himself look aloof in the corner. He came over. He was mild-mannered enough. Stoic, even. He also didn't seem to like the girl, per se, just possess her. He didn't seem to care for me much either, and he certainly didn't possess me, although he did stand and listen to us. She asked if I was studying Japanese, and I said yes, it was my college major and everything. "And then you came to Japan and realized all that studying wasn't worth jack," she replied. "Actually, I think I have all that studying to thank for just about everything good that's happened to me here." "...Oh." P.S. Her singing was pretty dreadful. P.P.S. Did I mention I don't like when people make assumptions about the kind of guy I am? (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 26th, 2009
1:15 pm	More on my urinary problems OR The Engine That Couldn't (Pee That Well) Well, like most things I post, I wrote this weeks ago and never got around to typing it up. Since then, things seem to have gotten better, magically, which is how they always seem to get better if they get better. Nevertheless, it bears keeping record. For the last seven months or so, paranoia has cycled its way thru most of my major organs, causing me to fear for my life for one reason or another. I've seen a variety of specialist clinics, and even taken a cab to the hospital at 4 a.m. once. Nobody's ever come up with anything remotely wrong with me. But this time the paranoia, if that's what it is, has made its way to my sweet, sweet loins, and there appears to be a tangible problem. Since you're reading this, I'll spare no detail, so here's your last chance to turn back and click that YouTube shortcut at the top of your browser and escape this graphic madness. Consider yourself advised. When I pee, it continues to feel like there's still some left inside my wang--for lack of a more awesome word--which itself doesn't seem to be up to its usual...attributes. It feels like the pee should just come right out, but it doesn't come out. The feeling just lingers forever, which I don't know if you've ever felt a small amount of pee lingering inside your dick for hours before, but it's infuriating. Get the hell out of there! My only two consolations now are that 1) there is no pain as of yet and 2) it's a common enough problem in Japan that it has its own term, which is zannyôkan,which means "lingering pee sensation," and which is not to be confused with plain old zannyô, which means "lingering pee". To combat these two semi-positives is the fact that such problems are usually the result of either blockage caused by stones, or prostate issues, both of which I'm extremely young for/terrified of. People often refer to the process of passing stones as the male equivalent of childbirth, except instead of ending with joy, it ends with you crying in a huddled ball of shame, hugging desperately to your new best friend, the toilet. Prostate enlargement is common in men over forty and not always a serious health risk, but it can also be cancer, or cause complete blockage of urine if not treated. More urgently disturbing, however, is that just to check on how the prostate's doing, your sarcastic male doctor has to stick multiple fingers up your anus, past the bottom knuckle, and waggle them around. In a serious situation, they stick an ultra-sonic probe up there a la every alien encounter you've ever feared. In the worst situations, a needle extends from that probe, into your prostate gland, scarring you mentally for life. My ex-nurse friend fails to see the harm in being anal probed, but I'm pretty sure it's the last experience I came here to have. Imagine the conversation afterwards. "Hey Greg, haven't seen you in like 200 weekends. How was Japan?" "Got probed anally." Imagine my life's memoirs: "The Chronicles of Greg: The Story of a Man Probed Anally." Imagine my epitaph, for God's sakes: Greg Moore 1984-2108 They stuck a rod up his anus, man! With a needle in it! And ultra-sound! RIP (you can say that again!) I discovered these many horrid truths flipping through an info brochure at the urinary clinic. It made no mention of the humiliating nature of these procedures or how to prepare mentally for them, so maybe I'm the only one who thinks it's a big deal. But in my defense, the most graphic page of the brochure was caked with somebody's ancient piss, so obviously someone else was disturbed enough when he saw it that he pissed himself right there. After all, this was in the reception. Another seemingly intentional attempt to add insult to injury is the fact that this particular urinary clinic features a young, beautiful receptionist. I guess it's incentive to make your tools work again. Frankly I wonder if mine hasn't just frozen over from lack of use. Yeah, I said it. Otherwise I don't know what the hell my problem is I've been to that clinic thrice now, and all three times I was the only patient in the place who wasn't getting the discount brunch at Denny's. Yeah they've got Denny's here. Greg Moore 1984-2108 He got the shaft. Up his ass. Instead of discount Denny's. RIP (is what they did to his rectum) Now let us never speak of this again. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, March 13th, 2009
1:22 pm	Over the last couple of years, the words "fucktard" and "fuckton", and possibly other words that use "fuck" as a prefix, seem to have cropped up into English speakers' everyday speech. What's the deal with these words? With no logical reasoning to back this up, these words sound terrible and I hate them. Every time I hear somebody go "That guy is a fucktard" or "I just ate a fuckton of tacos at the Taco-Mat", I want to destroy that person's mind with a tire iron. The only problem is that so damn many of these fucking retards are using these words now. It's not just like one or two people--it's a fu...well, it's a lot. Gotta go. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, March 6th, 2009
10:40 pm	Japanese Beetles You sometimes hear people complaining about Japanese beetles back in the States, but they don't realize how lucky they are that some Japanese beetles never even made it overseas. Two varieties of large, hideous beetle exist in Japan - the kabuto-mushi (samurai helmet bug) and the kuwagata (hideous pincer bug). As the names may indicate, one of them has a terrible, samurai helmet-shaped head with enormous horns sticking out, while the other has an hideous set of pincer-like growths protruding from its already hideous face. Both are unreasonably large, around the size of a Starbucks double-shot. The Japanese, who generally harbor extreme intolerance for bugs, and are known to flinch in terror even at the sight of a housefly, have an inexplicable fondness for these two biological travesties, which they express not only by not flinching in terror, but by going as far as to collect and intentionally touch them. People look forward to the sight of these abominations as a happy sign of summer, and I would venture a guess that to the average Japanese person, an encounter with one of them is more welcome than that with, say, a Chinese person. Children are particularly fond of these two types of beetles, and will expend great amounts of energy (or their parents' money) in an effort to obtain one of each, so that the horrible samurai bug and monstrous pincer bug can be viewed in the same space. This can only be described as "horrid". Though the two breeds of beetle share a number of common faults, such as being terrible, they remain, like Israelis and Palestinians, oblivious to their similarities, and find themselves constantly engaged in petty disputes, such as who gets to eat the slime off the twig or who gets to shit on the brown leaf. These bug-on-bug quarrels are, as you may have already hypothesized, unsavory occasions. The already wretched creatures will grow shockingly livid for two beings with no remarkable amount of brain power, and will proceed to squirm all over one another like Greco-Roman wrestlers. They are also just as nude as Greco-Roman wreslters, suggesting to my dismay that that they're actually proud of themselves. A young student of mine brought such a display to class once, and I was mesmerized to discover that the volume of my students' squeals of glee was directly proportional to my own escalating vomitousness, both spurred by the insects' writhing deathmatch. Where does everybody's tolerance toward these creatures come from? Certainly not from a tolerance-enforced upbringing or any sort of ethical doctrine. Non-Japanese people are all addressed collectively as "outside people", but hideous bugs are revered as fucking samurai. Did you see those pictures I linked? They're awful! Just awful. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 4th, 2009
11:26 am	Well, I'll be quitting my awesome kindergarten job later this month. I like everything about this job, except that it's far as shit and a huge waste of time. It bears repeating that it's a seven-hour commitment for 30-60 minutes of teaching. Seven hours. And one time I broke my goddamn teeth trying to get there. So with my departure fast approaching, I thought it'd be nice to hand out some superlatives to the amazing, charming teachers. Unfortunately I'm too shy to actually tell the nice ladies, and I also never bothered to learn any of their names. Also most of these are potentially offensive. As much as I admire the women I work with (if I forgot to mention before, all six or seven of them are beautiful and charming), I never had much of a chance to form any kind of relationship with them. They always have their hands beyond full, and I'm not really supposed to use much Japanese in front of the kids, see. So most of these ideas are merely speculations based on a year and a half of intense people-watching. 1. Most Likely To Hit on the Firemen Who Visit Once a Year - The hot one with the intense facial expression who turns out to be surprisingly submissive and kind, suggesting she's been wronged by an asshole or two in her time. 2. Most Likely to Someday Congeal Into a Ball of Concentrated Cutie Goo - The cute, youngest one who used to have no confidence. 3. Most Toothiest - The toothy one. 4. One I'd Most Like to Marry - The one I just found out is getting married soon to a guy who's not me. 5. Most Probably Hung Over a Lot of the Time - The one who rarely wears makeup and who was into judo back in school. I mean come on. 6. Most Likely to Stick Around - The one who left last year. Scratch that. 7. The Best One - The one who tries to speak English to me even when the kids aren't looking. 8. Most Likely to Actually Be Into S&M Shit - Like several of them, dude. I mean, pro'lly. 9. Most Hummingbirdlike Physique - The one whose sneezes make windows in the next county (sorry, prefecture) shatter. 10. Most Likely to Have Kids Someday - The one who's getting married. (Comment on this)