youvegottobeKIDDINGME

I worked for hours the other night on a long, photo-filled post, only to go back tonight to finish it and find that it's a big steaming pile of dead links. This sucks.

This is why I don't want to write in this effing thing anymore. It just shits all over me. Constantly.

forgetit.

Blog is on hiatus until I get everything sorted out with my new life.

Quick update: I'm in my new apartment, it's fantastic (by Japan standards that is...), and my life's been pretty much work-chores-party-sleep since then. Moving took a pretty big toll on me financially, so I won't be going out much in the next couple weeks. I'm still unpacking and I hope to finish today. As soon as I get the chance, I'll put up some of the pictures I've taken recently.

Oh, and I got my hair did on Wednesday. Three hours of chemicals and hot tools and my hair still smells like burnt farts. Looks lovely, though.

Back to work.

Seven hours after being sent home from work early, I'm still cowering in wait for the predicted typhoon while Liza's out having a "hurricane party" (Floridians scoff at hurricanes but piss themselves at the sight of a snowflake, the morons). I've spent the majority of my night watching men's gymnastics and drinking a fairly disgusting amount of Kahlua. That pretty much brings you up to date.
Siiiiiiigh.
Looking outside, we've got heavy rain and a little wind. But where is the typhoon?
Okay Japanese people, you've gotten Whitey all worked up about mysterious and deadly East Asian shit once again without coming through (see also: earthquakes, blowfish, ninja stars, drift racing).
I tire of your games.

Anyway, I wanted to take a picture of the storm to show y'all, but since there's really nothing to see, I'll instead show you the current (sad) state of our "veranda."

click for larger view

racism at a family restaurant at 4am

so me and my friends were just minding our own business
and this japanese guy across the room was like "shut up"
and we were like "what? umm ok whatever sure" and quieted down a bit even though we knew he was full of shit and his people were being just as loud as we were
and he all came over to our table
and then he fuckin' kicked a chair over and kicked our table
and i stood up and was like "whats the problem? there's no problem, okay?"
and he was all up in my face
and then a waitress came and he went back to his table
and then i could hear him talking shit about americans (even though the people i was with were british and australian)
and then we were just pretending we didn't see him
so on his way out he came up to our table
and was all putting his foot on the table and getting in george's face
and he was like "you understand japanese right?"
and we were like "yeah"
and he talked a bunch of shit in that tongue-rolly masculine japanese
and called me an ugly bitch
and kicked the table again
i was all ready to fight and my friends said no
because if the police got involved, THEY would go to jail because they're foreigners
so the waitress came over and ushered him and his friends along
and i heard her say to them on the way out "thank you very much!" like they were fuckin' valued customers
she saw me giving her the "what the fuck just happened?" shrug, so she came over to us
and gave us the most brusque "sorry" she could manage
and that was all.

limping home

click.ow

click.ow

click.ow

click.what

click.the

click.fuck

click.have

click.i

click.done

click.to

click.myself

click.this

click.time


OHHHH, THAT'S RIGHT. I TOPPLED OFF A TABLE LAST NIGHT.

fabulous: dancing way up high in the middle of the club, engaging the crowd and revelling in your own hotness.

not fabulous: taking a major spill in front of everyone.

...

good god, my foot hurts.

I guess I have to keep writing in this thing, because I've been CHALLENGED by one John Clyde. Bring it.

Okay, so the reason I haven't written much in a while (yes, I'm always full of excuses) is because I am SO. DAMN. TIRED.
Not that I've been working hard. In fact, I feel like I spend the majority of my time sitting in front of Facebook while scratching myself.
No, I'm just tired because the other night, I decided that I was so above sleeping, and consequently stayed up till 5:30 on a work night. Sitting on facebook and scratching myself.

As a 23-year-old with her head up her ass, I regularly do things like this. I also tend to fall into prolonged states in which I'm so above cleaning up my shit, so above conserving electricity, and/or so above eating anything but fast food.
[note: it is scientifically proven that nine out of ten 23-year-olds have their heads up their asses. probably.]

However, there is one thing that I have done properly in the last month...
Liza and I signed the lease for our new apartment in Tokyo! We'll be moving in during the second week of September. And here it is:

yes, I can read this. Worship me.

Pros and Cons:

Pro: awesome location. A five minute walk from Nishi-Sugamo Station (subway), and a ten-minute walk from Itabashi Station (train). From there, it'll be 15 minutes to Shibuya, 9 minutes to Shinjuku, and 4 minutes to Ikebukuro and the Yamanote Line. We'll also have a bus stop one block from our place, and a fabulous ghetto-ass supermarket a short walk down the street.
Pro: decent rent. I'll be paying 60,500 yen before utilities. I'm currently paying 69,000 yen a month to live in Saitama and get made fun of by all my friends who live in Tokyo. I should have realized this sooner.
Pro: roof deck. We're on the 5th floor of a 6th floor building, and since the 6th is set back from the rest, there's a big open space on our floor. Did that make sense? Well, what this means to us is SUNLIGHT and SKY, which are two things that I haven't lived with in over a year. Here's the view from our front door:

"Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is our kingdom."

Pro: elevator. One of the apartments we checked out was a 4th-floor walkup, and all I could think of was the inevitable tumble to my death on some drunken evening. Not to mention I simply don't like exercise.

Pro: balcony access. My current bedroom window looks out onto a first-floor walkway. The only way to get to our "veranda" is to go through Liza's room. At our new place, both bedrooms will have their very own sliding-glass doors leading out to the balcony. Not much of a view (mostly sides of taller buildings), but at least I'll be able to get some fresh air and hang up my clothes more easily.
Pro: more bathroom privacy. Let's be real - nobody wants to do their biznass right off of the main hallway and behind a thin wooden door that has slats in it.

Con: space. A lot less of it. I'm especially concerned about closet space, since my current closet is twice as big and filled to capacity. But there isn't much we can do - 46 square meters is pretty reasonable as far as Tokyo apartments go.
Con: lack of furnishings. I'm talking a complete lack of furnishings. We are moving into three empty rooms, equipped with only a toilet, a bathtub, two sinks, and an electric range. We will have to provide for ourselves the following: washing machine, heater/airconditioner unit, refrigerator, microwave, toaster oven, a TV, stuff to sit on, stuff to sleep on, stuff to eat on, stuff to put other stuff on, stuff to clean other stuff with...you get the idea. Before you panic (MOM), keep in mind that 1. since Tokyo charges people to dispose of large items, people are giving stuff away all over the place, and 2. I feel like "the first apartment" is a rite-of-passage, and part of me is looking forward to roughing it for a while while we gradually pick up odds and ends. Besides, I've long ago adapted to living in a nest of my own filth, so my standard of living probably won't be an issue.
Con: noise leakage. Those slidey-doors separating the rooms are really thin. This I justify by telling myself that Liza sleeps like it's her job, I've got a massive stash of earplugs, we like the same music and TV shows, and our schedules are so different that we won't be in the apartment together all that often anyway.
Con: mystery. Because someone still lives there until the end of the month, we haven't actually seen the inside of the place, save for a few pictures. Hahahaha...errrrrrrcrossyourfingers.

So there you have it. The adventure starts September 9.
Lord help us.

the last morning of the second summer vacation in japan

you fall asleep on the yamanote line.
sitting by the window, head against the glass. watching the city fall away into the distance.
with headphones on. something instrumental.
while thinking about new friend alison, and that boy with brown eyes.
they're both going home today. back across the ocean.
but your home is here.
and your friends have names like marguerite and hidemitsu.
you live in japan.
and now you're walking that same walk home you've done for a year.
fighting against the morning and squinting against the sun.
dragging your feet and checking the new freckles on your nose.
(how many people here can see their own noses?)
exhausted, falling into bed. hopefully no earthquakes today.
this is your life as a 23-year-old. who would have thought.

I am hung over and trying to go back to sleep, but I can't because there is a goddamn parade going by my house. My god please go away.

Last night, me and Jen were at McDonalds and a big ol' cockroach scurried by us.
Someone told the staff, and hilarity soon ensued when not one, not two, but three men (two of whom where "Managers") were dispatched to the scene. Their primary tactic seemed to be chasing the cockroach around with a dustpan and a broom. When that didn't work, they stood around scratching their heads for a while and then took apart a seat in one of the booths.
Lots of flustered bowing to the customers.

A milestone in The Adult Life Of Christine:

July 25, 2007: The first time Christine completely neglects to pay a bill and has to suffer the consequences.
My cell phone company, AU, has pulled the plug, and I have no cell phone until I drag myself to the AU office and do some remorseful bowing. Shame upon me, my family, my ancestors, and my nation. Or something like that.

On Sunday, I went to a festival in Urawa. When someone invites you to carry a heavy ceremonial shrine ("omikoshi") down a long street with some whiteys and some Chinese people, you take it. Bring on the gawking.

There weren't enough happi coats for everyone, but I managed to rush in and grab one for myself. America!

This isn't so bad! (notice the tall guys in the back taking all the weight)

Weight redistributed. Starting to feel the burn.

And then a child climbed on top and started waving fans around...

"Motherfucker, this is heavy!"

A good time was had by all. We only had one drunk old man yell at us for befouling his culture, and my shoulder made it through with only a little bruising.
All that rhythmic yelling and clapping and bouncing really gets you PUMPED! and THIRSTY! So we proceeded directly to the beer garden afterwards and proceeded to drink our weight in beer. It's all a bit fuzzy after that.
Wasshoi! Wasshoi!

Here in Japan, we have these things called "natural disasters."
This is kinda a problem.

You see, at home, the most I ever had to worry about was the winter "nor'easter," which would come through like an angry bitch and take a big white dump on my house. The aftereffect of which was the enormous hassle of having to pay my brother to shovel my car out.

But Japan. Japan's full of tricks. There's always the danger of the earth spazzing out all of a sudden without warning, and then bam! a building has fallen on your head.
This happened in Niigata last weekend to a lot of sad old people who thought it would be a good idea to live on a fault-line in a house made of paper.

There are also typhoons (from "taifu," which is the Japanese word for hurricane and also really fun to say), and wouldn't you know it, we had a typhoon warning, right smack in the middle of my first long weekend in three months.
The typhoon was due to arrive mid-day Sunday, so I naturally started thinking about disaster preparation oh, around 7am Sunday morning while I was still in Shibuya and still quite intoxicated.

I then decided that the only safe and responsible thing to do would be to head home and buy food, as it had been quite a long time since I'd had anything in my fridge besides expired tofu and skunky beer.
So off I went in the pouring rain to my neighborhood grocery store, where I bought the following:

Two blueberry yogurt cups
Two bags of frozen "Spicy Chicky Bone" (half price!)
One bag of frozen edamame
One can of condensed clam chowder
A carton of milk

After squelching back into my apartment sopping wet, I immediately went to sleep, and by the time I had woken up, the storm had passed. False alarm. I was pretty disappointed, since I'd had big plans to spend the day watching the mayhem from the safety of my living room.
I hadn't, however, realized the following:

1. I had taken the batteries out of my flashlight long ago, to power my speakers.
2. Said flashlight had then been dropped behind a piece of furniture, and I had since forgotten which one.
3. Dairy products and two bags of frozen buffalo wings do not make good emergency rations in the event of a power outage.

I'm an idiot.

Stay tuned for the next installment of the Christine Clusterfuck Hour. Same time, same channel.

The squat, redheaded woman named Irina offers to get me a drink, but I decline. She laughs, then straps on her shoes, gets up, and wraps herself around a metal pole.
...
WAIT, WHAT AM I DOING IN A RUSSIAN HOSTESS CLUB?!


Long story short, on Wednesday night I made friends with a crazy Russian girl at the usual bar, and when 2:30 or so rolled around, she dragged me across the street to her place of employment. I got a couple free drinks (vodka), made friends with some ho's (miserable-looking), and had compliments showered on me by some lecherous Japanese men ("customers").

Around closing time, drunk Irina decided that she would try to give me her shoes - some scary pleather-wrapped-around-the-calf, metal spike-heeled numbers. This is how the conversation went (we were speaking Japanese to each other because her English was crap):

Irina: "Here."
Me: "Huh?"
Irina: "You should keep these."
Me: "Me? Why?"
Irina: "I think you like them."
Me: "But they're too small, and I can't walk in them."
Irina: *shrugs* "Well, you can have them. I think you like them."

There may have been some sort of larger, symbolic exchange happening here. I wasn't sure. But I didn't take the shoes.


Never a dull moment.

Meet Loincloth Guy.

But first, let me backtrack:

A Japanese man in sunglasses spends a good half-hour spastically dancing alone in front of the DJ. No big deal.

A spastic Japanese man in sunglasses makes it readily apparent through his dancing that he had a couple handfuls of various drugs before showing up at the bar. No big deal, he's not bothering anyone.

A spastic, drugged-out Japanese man in sunglasses takes off his sunglasses, lies down on the nearby couch, and begins thrusting his pelvis into the air to a techno beat. No big deal, we all have our forms of self-expression.

A spastic, drugged-out, pelvic-thrusting Japanese man gets up from the couch and raises his arms in victory.
Double take! What's that peeking out from his jeans?! A piece of cloth in front, a piece of cloth in back, and some string. Well, no big deal, just your average, run-of-the-mill sexual deviant.

A spastic, drugged-out, pelvic-thrusting, sexually deviant Japanese man marches up to the dance floor, rips off all his clothes down to his bright red loincloth, and jumps up and down until George the Bartender stuffs his clothes into his arms and ushers him away.

He does this three times.

Meet Loincloth Guy.

Ingredients for a successful 4th of July:

Booze - check

Corn on the cob, hot dog, fried chicken - check, check, check

Enthusiastic random outbursts of "Amurrica! YEAH!" - check

Fireworks on the street - check

Fireworks fired off balcony, in living room, and into sleeping friend's bedroom at 3am - CHECK.

Dangerously improper use of bottle rockets - check

Barking dogs all over Omiya - check

"Oh shit, the cops are totally gonna show up LETS BOUNCE" - check

Two white girls attempting a "getaway," one covered in soot and the other with no shoes on. - check

The look on Pat's face when he turns on the lights tomorrow and sees the damage done to his room - priceless?

Received Mail
12:10 am, Monday June 25
From: Kouji
Subject: It is kouji
---------------------------------------
Thank you for yesterday.

It was happy!?

Do not want to meet again
by me one of these days

this time I will drink together

Good night

to remember:

dancing outside next to a swimming pool. the sky open wide and unblocked by buildings for the first time in months. the beat and the sun coming up over tokyo bay. the crowd moving under the changing colors of the sunrise. the cheering and the clothed people jumping into the water. the clinging and the smiling.

tokyo station, all but empty at 5:30 am. running. yelling. wrong way on escalators and moving sidewalks. sitting on the handrail and kicking my feet.
the singing and the smiling and the not caring.

my japan friends.

[this has been an 8:30 am sunday morning poem by christine. unproofread for your enjoyment.]

Went out and bought one of these puppies tonight. Tastes like...cucumbers. And fake mint. And a bucket of sugar.

Since coming to Japan, I have now tried raw whale and raw horse. They were both delicious.
MMMMMMMM unconventional and controversial meats.

a note to Japanese shoe salesmen:

Did you ever consider that maybe the problem isn't MY feet being too big, but YOUR feet being too small?

Listen, my feet are beautiful and goddesslike, and they don't take kindly to oppression.
So you can wipe that smug look off your face as you take that shoebox away, and replace it with an expression of respect.

Because you know who else had big feet?
Zeus. The Greek god of awesome.
And we all know how he handled disrespect.
Poorly, and with lightning.

Besides, I would totally school you in a contest of stamping. Or not-falling-down-when-pushed.

Bring it.

There was a serious fight in my train car tonight. Two gangster-looking guys were chasing and wailing on (whaling on?) a guy in a checkered shirt with no regard for their surroundings. This was the first time I've seen someone take a jump-kick to the chest in person. Five feet away, no less.
I would have gotten hit by flying limbs and bodies had I not thrown myself against the wall at the last minute.
Needless to say, it was SWEET.