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.