Here it is. The big poster.

When I whipped this out at Luke's party (I had received it at work that day), all thirty-or-so people there burst into thunderous applause. Well, the white people burst into thunderous applause. The Japanese people were too busy whipping their cell phones out of their pockets faster than the speed of light so that they could take pictures of the "ECC poster girl."

So I guess this thing's riding the Yamanote Line (and others?) around Tokyo till April, but I haven't been down there enough to see it yet. It's also supposed to be in Osaka and Nagoya. Not much is confirmed except that my fifteen minutes of fame have come, and that the Japanese guy in charge of this ad campaign is terrible at English.

Christine's Supreme Birthday Weekend of Doom

Wednesday Night: Students from Kawagoe School took me out for birthday drinks after work.
Thursday Night: Official birthday celebration. Went to Roppongi with Joe and met some crazy people. Club Vanilla. Still recovering.
Friday Night: Unofficial birthday celebration. Small party at Tom's apartment.
Saturday Night: Henry's birthday. In a tiny packed bar located in the heart of whoretown. Weather: partly rowdy (what?)
And tonight was Luke's birthday. By this point, Christine is running on very little food and sleep but decides that maintaining her social connections in the fast-paced, dog-eat-dog world we live in is, well, more important.
But I'm glad I went, as it was pretty ridiculous. It was in an izakaya called "Big," out in Kamifukuoka which is essentially in the middle of nowhere. There, I had a 50-year-old stranger say to me "you are beautiful," and "I love you," which also happened to be the only five English words he knows. Kozue passed out, something she can always be counted on to do. Oh, and my jacket and scarf had some brown shit spilled on them. Must kill Graham.



Oh, crap, I just remembered that I promised students I'd go out with them tomorrow night "to celebrate my birthday" after work.

Japan is toxic.



Oh, that 50-year-old guy. I forgot to mention that NO ONE had any idea who he was. And that he snuck into our party by buying us bottles of sake until we felt obligated to invite him. And then he got super red-faced drunk. And at the end of the night, he gave Robert five pairs of brand-new socks that he just happened to have on him. Then it took him like half an hour to leave, because he wouldn't stop dropping to the floor and bowing profusely to everyone in the party, who would then bow back, which would cause him to bow again.
Hah.

I WAS WOKEN UP FROM MY NAP AND NOW THERE ARE TWO JAPANESE MEN EXCHANGING BUSINESS CARDS IN MY LIVING ROOM.
GET OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT.

Today, we were playing a nice game of charades in my 7-year-olds class. One kid would mime playing a musical instrument, and the others would try to guess what it was. When Ryoga's turn came up, I called him to the front of the class. He stood up from his cushion and started walking toward the whiteboard, then thought better of it, beelined off to the right, crouched down, and determinedly thrust his hand between Hiroya's legs.
WTF.

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On my way home tonight, I was waiting at the crosswalk when a short white-looking guy walked up to me and said something to me in Japanese:

Him: "mumblemumblemumble."
Me: "What?"
Him: "Asobi ni itte mo ii desu ka?" ("Can I go hang out with you?")
Me: (pretending I don't speak Japanese) "I'm going home, sorry."
Him: "Eigo wakarimasen." ("I don't understand English.")
Me: "Huh? I don't understand."
Him: "Hoteru ni ikitain desu ka?" ("Would you like to go to a hotel with me?")
Me: "I don't know what you're talking about."
Him: "Hoteru."
Me: "Sorry."

The light changed, so I crossed the street, ducked into a convenience store, and pretended to shop for a while until the coast was clear.
That guy was either really forward, or he thought I was a Russian prostitute. Either way, it was gross.
I should also add that soon after my run-in with Creepy Short Guy, I was checking my reflection in a store window (to see if I looked like a Russian prostitute) when I was almost mowed down by a speeding bicycle.

Oh, Japan.

Alistair was here for the past week. To make a long story short, we did the following things:

*Saw the Grand Sumo Tournament in Ryogoku
*Hit up Ginza for a kabuki play ("Kinkakuji: The Golden Pavilion")
*Visited Kamakura to see some sweet temples and the Great Buddha statue
*Checked out the view from the top of Tokyo Tower at night
*Had a nice dinner at Fujimama's in Harajuku (yay English-speaking staff!)
*Had a not-so-nice dinner in Roppongi (Mexican food as interpreted by Japanese people - yikes)
*Went to an "English Pub" where we drank pints of Kirin Ichiban until we were entirely unreasonable
*Took a stroll through Shinjuku's Kabuki-cho red light district and gawked at the yakuza and their cars.
*Got terrifically lost late at night trying to find my friends in Shinjuku's gayborhood
*Fought through crowds in Shibuya, twice
*Pumped too many 100-yen coins into arcade games like "Lets Go Jungle!" and "Taiko something-or-other"
*Izakaya, izakaya, izakaya

Now that I'm back in Japan and on my own again, I feel like the new year has really begun. Today I threw my 5-yen coin into the shrine with a vague prayer for happiness, then decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I walked past Hikawa Shrine, through Omiya Park, and continued around the lake, farther than I've ever gone before. Past the lake, I found museums and a library, and a huge state-of-the-art swimming pool surrounded by tall bleachers. Everything was cold and empty.
On the way back, the shrine was closing to the rhythmic echo of a massive drum. I stood on the bright red bridge over the carp pond and listened until the beats became further between and finally stopped altogether.

It's my year. The Year of the Boar.
Let's get this shit started.