MoshiMoshi

feeling bamboozled

2010-05-19T11:00:00.000+09:00

Okay, writers of Lost, I've got a bone to pick with you. WHAT IN THE HELL is going on? A whole lot of nothing, that's what. Wait, let's back up. I've loved this show from the beginning. I dutifully gasped and scratched my head in confusion when Oceanic 815 first fell out of the sky and onto the beach, and have obediently tuned in every week since then, following along as best I could with all the various on- and off-island shenanigans. Of course, as with all TV, some episodes have been better than others. This is unfortunate, but forgivable; the good episodes were awesome (remember Sun and Jin in Season 4? And the time travel storyline? The Penny and Desmond story, and Charlie? KEVIN JOHNSON??) and the big picture was still a good one. Plus, with this show there has always been the promise of answers, the expectation that when we do find out what the hell it is that's been going on, it is going to be really f*cking good. Our minds, they are to be blown.

Cut to this season - the last, final, the-end-is-upon-us season - which has just up and gone to the monkeys. I mean, let's take for example last week's episode - which was the third-to-last of THE ENTIRE SERIES, just to be clear - wherein (*SPOILER ALERT!*) Jacob and MIB's fake mom says she "made it so that [they] can't hurt each other". Yeah okay lady, we already know they can't hurt each other. What we don't know is WHY, and this is what we get? The answer is that fake-mama made it so?? Way to tie up that loose end, guys. Then a few minutes after she says this, Jacob hurls MIB down the forbidden light hole of "life, death and rebirth" (really? That's what we're going with here?) (also, perhaps you could have splurged a little on this cave of light - I half expected the Disneyland electrical parade to come marching out of there) and kills him, making a liar out of fake-mama. (But maybe not, because isn't that why fake-Locke had to make Ben kill Jacob instead of doing it himself?)

Writers, pick a loose end, any loose end, they're scattered everywhere, and TIE IT UP already! Time's a-tickin'!!

Side note: woah Nelly, Kate was a hottie in Season 1! What happened?!?

three-peat, baby!

2010-05-15T11:28:00.001+09:00

A tidbit about me: I hate running. I know that "everyone" does it, and it's exercise, and it's free and it's easy - just lace up, open the front door and off you go! - and blah blah blah. It's also boring as all hell. It doesn't matter what I do to try to distract myself - TV on the treadmill, music on the iPod, running outdoors (which, actually, is SO MUCH BETTER than pounding away on a treadmill, it's amazing what a difference that makes) - my mind refuses to settle down and stop wondering if we're done yet. But because it's good for you (and, let's face it, I love food but my metabolism just ain't what it used to be), every several months I think that I should really make it a habit, and then every several more months I actually try to make it a habit. And I'm usually pretty good about it for the first few weeks, because I always do feel really good after a run. But then, invariably, one thing or another happens - seasons change and it's raining, or it's hot and humid and what, I'm supposed to exert myself in less-than-perfect weather? So life just generally gets in the way, the inertia is lost and oops, there it is over there, my ass on the couch again.

So a few weeks ago, mostly due to the 2 weeks' worth of dining out, pastries and overall gluttony that comes with traveling and playing tour guide, I decided to try once again to start exercising. I live somewhat near the Imperial Palace, which is probably the most popular place in Tokyo to go running. One lap around is 5k, and I figured a loop like that, with no other option but to get back to where I started, would be good for me and my weak mind. And because the last time I had exercised was a year ago, my plan was to just make my way around any way I could by walking most of the way, with maybe 5-10 minutes of running somewhere in there.

Well, what do you know, I ran the whole damn loop! Okay, technically it wasn't so much a run as it was a slow jog, but whatever. The whole loop! And it wasn't so much physically difficult - obsessive vacuuming IS cardio conditioning, I KNEW IT! - as it was mentally difficult. I think that after about 10 minutes my body just resigns itself to its fate and accepts the fact that there are another 20 minutes in store, and it obliges. But my mind, as usual, was being a pain in the ass and would not stop with the Are we done yet? How long has it been? What time is it? How much faaartherrrrrr??? So I started playing mind games with myself. I kept promising myself a rest - after this song was done playing, after I passed that old guy up there in the yellow spandex, after I rounded this next corner. But when the song ended or I reached the mark, I DID NOT REST. I kept falling for the same ploy over and over again, until eventually I found myself at my starting point. How's that for clever trickery!

And of course, my iPod was loaded up with all kinds of energizing songs to get me through the rough patches, those times my body did raise a fuss about being too tired to go on. When that happened, I pretended I was out dancing, channeling the endless stores of energy I seem to have when I'm shakin' my money maker. But as it turned out, what really got my mind off the pavement pounding was the immense concentration it took to refrain from actually throwing my arms up in the air and waving them like I just didn't care. So... that also helped.

I've done this 3 times now in the past 3 weeks, and I am totally patting myself on the back about it. I'll probably always have to resort to trickery and mind games to get through a run, but hey - whatever it takes, right? Whatever it takes.

up my alley but not my thing

2010-05-10T14:49:00.003+09:00

During the summer after my 2L year in law school, I, like most other law students at the time, interned at a law firm where I was plied with alcohol, steaks and Broadway shows - and a ridiculous amount of money for the amount of value I brought to their table (that amount being approximately zero) - so that I would accept their offer of employment at the end of the summer. Tough life, I know.* Anyway, at some point during this summer of excess and debauchery, I made a bet with a friend. I've forgotten what it was we were talking about that brought us to that point in the conversation, but I said that I could never bring myself to spend hundreds of dollars on a pair of shoes. Not that I find anything wrong with doing so; it's just that everyone has their "thing", and shoes are not my "thing". I'm way too anal to wear expensive shoes - streets are so dirty! What if my expensive shoes TOUCHED THE GROUND? Even if I water-proofed, scratch-proofed, everything-proofed them, I would still not be able to walk straight for all the time I'd spend examining the ground in front of me. Of course, I do appreciate a nice shoe, and definitely am not beyond coveting. But that's as far as I go - just lookie, maybe touchie, but never beyond first base. Handbags, on the other hand, I will go all the way with. Handbags are my "thing".

My friend, however, was sure that I would soon change my tune; according to him, everyone changes their tune after enough exposure to the obscene amounts of money that are tossed around in the finance and legal industries. I explained that for me, a handbag is something I would pay to take home, but a pair of shoes is something I would only look at and fondle, and only for free (okay, I'm done with that metaphor). But he was convinced that it was only a matter of time before I would bend under the weight of all that money, and bet that within my first 3 years of lawyering, I'd cave and pay over $500 for a pair of shoes. If he was right, I would owe him a pair of $500 shoes. If he was wrong, he would owe me a pair of $500 shoes. Well, nevermind that I wouldn't have known what to do with that kind of victory - at that time, I'm pretty sure I had no idea where to even look for shoes in that price range. I just love to gloat about being right, so I took the bet.

Here we are, 7 years after my graduation, and I have yet to own (or even want to own) shoes that cost that much. If my friend had listened to me, he could have won the bet on a handbag, because I've definitely hit that mark more than once. I haven't bothered collecting on the bet, though, because again, all that really matters to me is that I was right. And that everyone knows it.

Anyway, all this is a long-winded way of ~~gloating~~ saying HELLO, BEAUTIFUL:

Introducing the Ipswitch Brogues by Rachel Comey. Or, as I like to call them, My Lovlies.

Shall we look at another angle? Let's.

That silhouette! That heel! I'm swooning. Hold me.

These don't cost $500, but they're still above my threshold. And if we've learned anything today, it's that ~~I'm always right~~ the most I'm going to do is look at pictures of it online, maybe fantasize about it occasionally, maybe pet it if I see it in person (now I'm done, really I am). See you in my dreams, My Lovlies.

* But now the sky has fallen, and alas, such life is no more.

a harrowing tale

2010-04-23T15:17:00.003+09:00

Mama's got a brand new toy! Say hi:

Hi!

That's right - after much hemming and hawing, to'ing and fro'ing, I finally bucked up and bought a Macbook. I had been thinking about it for awhile, and I'll confess that part of the reason I wanted it was because it's just... so... pretty (the little apple on the cover lights up when it's on!). But more than that, everyone I know who has one, loves it and can't stop raving about it. So, I gave in, and got one a few weeks ago. However, because I've been a little busy, it wasn't until today that I got a chance to sit down and bust that baby out of its box.

Not that I've never seen a Macbook before. I've just never seen MY Macbook before. And of course, I was smitten - the aesthetics department at Apple must really be a bunch of go-getters. The laptop is sleek* and smooth and shiny, and... ok fine, I'll admit that I spent a few minutes gently petting the keyboard. But there is also a welcome video! That talks to you! After which a program is automatically launched that helps you detect and connect to your wireless network! (Am I aging myself? Do all laptops and computers do that nowadays? Because in my day...)

But after that initial helpful setup, I was on my own. It's almost comical, the number of times I said "What the... How do you... Ohhhhh." I'm sure I've just barely scratched the surface, and it's true what they say, that many things are intuitive - IF you've never used a computer before. I was born and raised on a PC (ok, what I was born on was *cough*a Commodore 64*ahem*) and found myself stumped by questions like WHERE THE HELL IS THE HOME KEY? Also, I understand that the Mac's delete button is the PC's backspace... but where is the Mac's equivalent of the PC's delete? I did, however, manage to rescue myself from a brief panic at the thought that you cannot ctrl-c/v/x - WHY WOULD THEY NOT INCLUDE THAT SHORTCUT?? - after I realized that instead, you command-c/v/x. WHEW.

So there I was, trucking along, figuring things out and exploring my new precious, when I took a swig of water. And promptly choked on it. I had enough sense to try to hold in my mouthful of water, since I was sitting in front of aforementioned new precious, so I clamped my mouth shut and slapped my hand over it. But that choke, it was a pushy one that wasn't going to take no for an answer. It persisted, and since the first one didn't get very far, the second choke was a little more aggressive and sent some water shooting out from between my fingers and dribbling down my wrists. "Save the precious!!", I thought. Feeling a third and even angrier choke coming on, I had just enough time to turn my head to the side before the rest of the water came tumbling out of my mouth - thankfully, onto my lap and floor. Crisis averted! The end.

Welcome to my life on the wild side.

** Except that for the physical size of the laptop, they really should have made the screen bigger. I don't mean this in the techie sense - because yes, I chose the screen size. It's just... all that WHITE around the screen. I'm subtracting style points for that.

on my vacation from other people's vacations

2010-04-19T20:08:00.003+09:00

I've spent the past 2 weeks traipsing around Seoul, Kyoto and Tokyo - playing tour guide for the latter 2 - with brother and dad. Hoo boy, that was exhausting (but also nice, as it's not too often that I get to really spend time with family). I'm still recovering, while slowly digging myself out from underneath the laundry monster in my bathroom and turning my to-do's into to-did's. There is no room left in my brain for coherent thought, much less turning those thoughts into the captivating blog entries that we are used to around here. But, because I have turned over a new leaf and am no longer a non-blogging neglector, here is something for you to do during my brain's Quiet Time. A list! Of things I love! With pictures!

New sheet day.

[Oops, no picture. There is no picture that can convey the comfort, smell and joy of new sheet day.]

A good book, a steaming cup of coffee and a cookie on a rainy day. Quadruple points if it's this cookie OMG IT IS SO GOOD and I am so sorry it doesn't seem to be available anywhere outside Japan:

Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie from Starbucks. A chewy,

just-sweet-enough cookie surrounding a gooey marshmallow center.

Brunch. Especially at Beacon (one of very few places to get for-real American-style brunch in Tokyo), and especially this dish:

Huevos Rancheros with cilantro rice, black beans, spicy sausage.

That my puppy's favorite place to sleep is on my pillow. And that she sometimes sleeps like she's a person - on her side, little head on the pillow, little body off the pillow.

If I close my eyes and ignore you, maybe you'll turn off the damn light and let me sleep.

Taylor Lautner's abs. Now THAT is what I call A Situation.

Mm-hmm yes please.

open letter to chuck bass

2010-04-02T11:43:00.004+09:00

Dear Chuck,

You don't know me, but I definitely know you. You, your friends and all your collective shenanigans have been my guilty pleasure ever since your beautiful privileged faces first graced my television screen. And I know, I know - I have disparaged you in the past, likened you to an emotionally juvenile cocky ex-boyfriend of mine, mocked you for your clothing choices. But you do recognize, don't you, that I was not entirely off-base? I mean, Basstardly (ha!) shenanigans aside, let's just talk about those clothes of yours. In fact, let's not talk. Let's look...

...at your evening wear. Are those sequins? Your dinner jacket, it's BEJEWELED?

...at your casual wear, accessorized with a pair of alluring come-hither (by which I mean scary I'm-going-to-murder-you) eyes:

...at your - good lord, what is this? Summer wear? I just... don't know:

Do you see, now, what drove me to scold your image every time it appeared on my screen? Why I could not imagine how anyone could find you remotely attractive, not in a million years, especially when conversations with you would never have been face-to-face but instead, face-to-nostrils?

But Chuck, you've grown. You've quit being a Basstard. You've let Blair in and are the epitome of a devoted boyfriend. You've learned to carry the weight of your head by holding it more or less upright. You've stopped with the ridiculous clothes. You look like this:

...and this:

... and this:

You are classy! Debonair! Still dark and broody... but in a good way!

Chuck, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you.

Kisses,
Tamami

not exactly a bedtime story (but perhaps it should be)

2010-03-31T16:11:00.006+09:00

Something I am deeply saddened by is the fact that there are so many of nature's species which are in distress these days. Yes, humans too - humans are are a troubled species as well. It's just that... well, this next part is probably not going to win me any popularity points, but I'm going to just say it anyway and then duck - the plighting of humans is done solely and exclusively by humans. The plighting of nature, however, is not done by nature; it's done by humans. But the reason we are able to do it is the exact reason we shouldn't. We are at the top of the food chain, the top of the brain chain - we are the masters of our universe. We should know better. As a wise man once said, with great power comes great responsibility.

Recently, I've been made more aware of the plight of the dolphins, because a man named Ric O'Barry and his team made a movie that won a lot of awards. I watched that movie and cried throughout; and guys, I am generally not a crier - I am a chickenshit, but not a crier. But, more importantly, I became aware of the extent of the problem - so for me, the movie did what it had set out to do.

Meet Ric O'Barry - an activist who has spent the past 40 years campaigning against the captive dolphin industry:

But before he was that guy, he was the guy who raised and trained (the dolphins who played) Flipper and endeared her to the viewing public, the popularity of the show resulting in a rising demand for trained dolphins. He had no idea at the time that all this was leading down a road to a bad place; but in working with the dolphins, he came to realize how highly complex, intelligent and sensitive they are, and how distressed they become when plucked from the wild and dropped into captivity (and - to add insult to injury - made to perform tricks for their food, for screaming audiences, in the tiny little tank they are forced to call home). It all came to a head the day one of the Flipper dolphins died, by - wait for it - committing suicide in his arms. And okay, I know what you're all thinking, because I thought it too - "Suicide? A dolphin? Next you're going to tell me she left a suicide note on the nightstand!" But seriously, guys, you have to hear him tell the story. I cried.

And that was only the beginning of the story. Since that time, O'Barry has been crusading to stop the practice of capturing dolphins from the wild to be put into captivity; but in the city of Taiji, Japan, his mission goes one step further. There*, the dolphins are chased into a cove, disoriented and frightened by a ceaseless beating of sticks in the water - this is done to panic them by creating too much sound for their sensitive sonars to handle. They experience extreme physical and psychological trauma; they are self-aware in many, if not most, of the same ways that humans are, and they can tell what is going to happen to them. The "best" dolphins are picked by visiting trainers and carted off to aquariums, dolphin shows and swim-with-dolphin programs around the world. The rest are killed by repeatedly stabbing the water with spears until the bodies are still - it's hard to really aim, I guess, when you can't see through the bloodied water. There's a heart-wrenching clip in the movie where a dolphin, frantic with bloody stab wounds all over its body, desperately flips and flops its way on shore, trying to get away, only to collapse and die on the sand.

Just because something is difficult to watch doesn't mean it shouldn't be seen.

There are those that argue that all this brouhaha that's being raised about dolphin killings is just another case of cultural imperialism. To that, I say, PSHAW. There is nothing cultural about dolphin meat, nor selling dolphins into captivity, nor the cruel method of chasing, capturing and killing dolphins that takes place in Taiji. Most Japanese people don't even know about this, and they certainly don't eat dolphin meat (not knowingly, anyway, because who really chooses to subject themselves to mercury poisoning?). How can it be cultural when people have no idea?

Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. But one thing I absolutely cannot stand, in a make it stop make it stop OMG MAKE IT STOP kind of way, is an illogical argument. When somebody tells me the sky is red, and I go and look outside and the sky is not, in fact, red, it makes me want to punch them. But because I know this is not a socially acceptable way to converse with someone, I am stuck without a response. Which I hate. Likewise, when somebody tells me that wanting to stop the hunting of dolphins for capture and baseless killing is another example of cultural imperialism, and when I look around me and see that most Japanese people have no clue what any of this dolphin business is all about, I see that it can't be cultural. The sky is not red. But yet, many of those who put forth the cultural imperialism argument are people I know to be rational, intelligent, and otherwise capable of distinguishing between colors. So - to those of you who hold this view - I wonder, sincerely and without trying to be facetious - why do you think so? How do you get the sky to be red?

* This is not the only place dolphin hunts take place, but it happens on the largest scale in Japan. It also happens in Denmark, Peru and parts of the South Pacific.

this is why you love me

2010-03-26T18:36:00.001+09:00

I thought that I should (re-)start things off with a bang by discussing a few things I cannot stand. You can thank me later. In no particular order:

Rant the first: that there is not one actor, among the entire universe of actors, A.K.A. people who are paid BIG BUCKS to be experts at pretending, who actually knows how to properly pretend to either hold or drink from a cup. If you watch any scene that involves a cup of liquid (or, worse, multiple cups in one of those cardboard/styrofoam cupholder things), I guarantee that you will see the actor waving it around as if it is empty. And then, to reinforce the idea that there is something in the empty cup, the actor will take a pathetic little sip - barely tilting the cup - and then fail to pretend to swallow. You'd think that would be something they'd teach in the first week of Acting 101. Why bother with a cup of anything if they're not going to handle it correctly?

Rant the second: the way Jack Bauer pronounces "nuclear". It really takes away from his badassed-ness every time he says nu-cue-lar. Say it with me, Jack. NU-CLEE-AR. Even nu-clear would be acceptable. But not nu-cue-lar. No, no, no. I have particularly strong feelings about this one.

Rant the third: people who don't excuse themselves after RUNNING FULL-ON INTO ME because instead of watching where they were going, they were too busy looking down at the floor - the floor that is inside my apartment building and therefore free of potholes, curbs, sticks, and stones. Why are we looking down at the floor? Why are we not looking in the direction in which we are charging?

Rant the fourth: being too shocked to berate these people with anything other than an "excuse you!!" (a great one, I know, especially when the target of my wrath does not even speak English), and then seconds later coming up with the perfect way to teach them a lesson, and then for the rest of the day (several days, if I'm being honest) fantasizing about sticking my foot out to trip them while verbally ripping them a new asshole. This one, I also have strong feelings about.

Rant the fifth: airplane announcements that come in through the headsets AT EXTREMELY HIGH DECIBELS. Seriously, why does this happen? If I am watching a movie and my headset volume is set to a level of my liking, and if the announcement is otherwise coming through the airplane's speakers at a normal volume, WHY must the living daylights be frightened out of me by the announcement ripping through the headset?

Now you can thank me.

...aaaand i'm back

2010-03-25T11:27:00.003+09:00

Well. Hi!

So I'm back, and wow, things look a little different around here. As things often do after a year and a half. Heh, heh. Ok, I'll just get down to it - I'm sorry. To all 4 of you who read this blog, I'm sorry that I disappeared without warning. But I do have an excuse, and without getting too much into it, I will explain. First, One Thing happened, which kind of drained the energy and inspiration out of me - sucked it out and left me a shriveled, empty shell (luckily, I did not lose my flair for the dramatic). So while that One Thing was happening, I found that I didn't really have much to say about anything; so I didn't. Then, Another Thing happened. That Another Thing was actually a good Thing that was only disguised as a bad Thing; but still, it was a doozy of a Thing, and I continued to find myself without much to say. On top of all this, Facebook became my go-to for scratching any itches I did have to post commentary on the Internet. Thus went this blog the way of all my gym memberships in the past few years - that is, something I was excited about and diligently paid attention to with gusto and good intentions for awhile, but which then became something I just couldn't get it up for, then got used to not getting it up for, then eventually let lie there like a cold dead fish I had no interest in reviving.*

But, the good news? I'm back! And I'll try to do better this time, I'll try not to disappear without so much as a sayonara, because as everyone knows, we only get one second chance in life.

Now, let's get back to our regularly scheduled sporadic posting.

* And that, my friends, is how you wind up with an entirely different metaphor than you started out with.

you want to know what i just saw?

2008-08-05T10:26:00.007+09:00

I just saw - and I am not even exaggerating, not even a little bit, I swear - a woman whose legs were the size OF MY ARMS. The knobs of her knees were bigger than her calves AND HER THIGHS! Do you remember that toy where you connect wooden sticks to knobs and cubes?

This! Is what that woman's appendages looked like.

Uh... can we get a ham sandwich over here??

iPhone, schmiPhone

2008-07-09T14:25:00.010+09:00

Backstory: people here in Japan are inexplicably attracted to lines - specifically, standing in them. I even read an article here that mentioned how many people, when they see a line, will first tack themselves onto the end of it, then ask what they're there for. Want Cold Stone on a warm day? Wait in line. Krispy Kreme on any day? Get in line (for, on average, 2 hours). Restaurant that's recently been on TV? Back of the line, son. It irritates me to no end, and I'm not even sure why - after all, it does give me something to point and laugh at. I guess it's because if I want to be impulsive and have Cold Stone on a warm day, I can't, because there's a line and I'm not willing to spend an hour of my time waiting in it.

So the iPhone 3G is set to launch in Japan this Friday. And yesterday - which was TUESDAY - people started lining up outside the store in anticipation. PEOPLE!!! Yes, there's been a lot of brouhaha about this for awhile now (although none that I've seen in Japan, strangely), and yes, it's the "cool new thing" (Japanese people in particular LIVE for cool new things - perception is everything here). But to line up for 60+ HOURS for this? These people must not need to work. And they must have enablers - friends that are willing to swap places in line while the other goes to the potty or goes to get food or, I don't know, any of the MYRIAD of worthwhile things to do with 60 hours of their time.

While I'm at it, I might as well complain about another thing. I heard there was a whole big fuss, made by Mr. Apple himself, that nowhere in the entire world would the (8gb) iPhone cost more than $199. Well, his pants must totally be on fire right now, because here, in Japan, it will sell for $215, which, ok fine, is not egregious but still a lie. HOWEVER, that price is only for new customers to the network; existing customers will have to pay $283! Mr. Apple's pants, I imagine, have gone up in flames.

honey, no

2008-07-08T17:12:00.011+09:00

I saw her coming almost a block away. What caught my attention was not only her clothing - she was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans in what must have been 75-degree-summer-morning humid weather - but the way she was walking. Like she was trying to hold a golf ball with her vagina. So I'm staring-but-not-staring at her, and we're getting closer to each other, and I'm thinking "Dude, Japanese girls walk weird*, but this is kind of a new one..." And then I'm maybe 10 feet from her, and I see that she's wearing a cropped shirt, 80's style, and that her jeans seem pulled up pretty high; and I think to myself that maybe I should cut her some slack, that not everyone can be as fashionable as me.

And then I see that I can't be sure how high her tight skinny jeans are pulled up, nor how cropped her shirt is, because these are things I would gauge relative to the belly button. And in the space between the top of this woman's jeans and the bottom of the shirt is the vague shape of what can only be her belly button, but again, I can't be sure, because it's covered up by THE WAISTBAND OF HER PANTYHOSE.

Did she not check the mirror before she left the house? Could she not find a pair of knee-highs? Maybe her shirt shrank in the wash and she didn't realize it? What happened??

What the hell?!? Honey, I JUST DON'T THINK SO.

* Totally true, and I have no idea why.

1 bajillion dollars = [x grains of rice] + [y ears of corn]

2008-06-27T12:02:00.009+09:00

A few weeks ago, the Head Cheese of the firm gave a presentation to our office about all the typical things a head cheese would talk about - vision, strategy, how great we are, etc. The one thing I actually retained from that talk, though, had nothing at all to do with the firm. It was this fact nugget: not only is the United Arab Emirates obscenely wealthy (which I knew), but Abu Dhabi in particular has money just pouring out of its BUTT, to the tune of a WEEKLY surplus of many (several? at least several... obviously a number too big for me to even comprehend) billions of dollars. United States dollars.

In disposable cash.

A spare bajillion dollars.

Oh, the possibilities...

simple pleasures

2008-06-25T12:38:00.009+09:00

A couple things:

There's some stinky sh*t going on in my work life
I've also been dealing with issues in my personal life

But!

I'm rockin' a KICK. ASS. HAIRCUT. Granted, it wasn't so kick-ass two days ago, when my first attempt at styling resulted in a flat, floppy, lifeless pile on my head; nor was it so kick-ass yesterday, when my second attempt resulted in product OVERLOAD and a nasty sticky mess. Today, third time's the charm. This haircut is unlike any hairstyle I've ever had - it's short, and it's kicky, and it has way more personality than I do. It's something I've thought about doing for a long time, and only just now grew a pair and went for it. I love my hair guy!
I am in such a cute outfit today. It includes a necklace my mom gave me which I love and which coordinates perfectly with what I'm wearing - and which means I actually ACCESSORIZED. My cute outfit is interesting! and sophisticated! and did I mention cute?? My typical clothing choices, while also cute (what can I say), are usually somewhat ordinary and "safe". I'll be completely honest, I kind of stumbled upon today's outfit accidentally, as it looks nothing like the image I had in my head when I started getting dressed. But that makes it even better, no? Yes.
During my commute I jammed to some music I hadn't listened to in a long time. Music is awesome; it's amazing how just the right music at just the right time can turn my frown right upside down.
I went running yesterday after work, AND ate very health-ily all day, which makes me feel good today. I'm trying to get back into the routine of exercising after a year and a half of sitting on my lazy ass, and have been jogging and riding my bike a couple (occasionally even a FEW!) times a week for the past month or so. I'm crossing my fingers this will last and I do this more often, despite the impending summer heat and humidity.

I will have a good day today, stinky issues be damned.

a little hairy

2008-06-20T19:29:00.008+09:00

Confession (which will be news to no one that knows me at all): I have a bit of um, a type A personality. I like to know everything that's going to happen - how and when it's going to happen - all possible outcomes - before any of it happens. Hi, yes, control freak. *raises hand* Needless to say, I am not comfortable with change. I will never be the person that spontaneously decides, for example, to paint all the walls yellow, or make a major purchase, or change tampon brands.* Or CHOP OFF MY HAIR.

So why is it that every time I actually make an appointment for a haircut (ESPECIALLY the for the more major changes, like bangs, or a perm, or, if I haven't already mentioned, CHOPPING MY HAIR OFF), without fail, I have a great hair day? And pretty much every other day, my hair is flat, or it's frizzy, or the baby hairs are just *POOSH*, or… just, you know, general wonky-ness.

But I am determined to do this weekend what I've made an appointment to do, if for no other reason than to STOP OBSESSING ABOUT IT already (P: *raises hand in agreement*). But make no mistake, I will be pooping my pants about it from now until it happens.

Wish me luck.

* Although apparently, deciding more or less on a whim to go to law school, oh and also to pick up and MOVE TO JAPAN, I am ok with. Says the girl who likes soggy fries but the burnt crusts of hash browns. The same one who needs ice cold milk but room temperature water.

nuggets

2008-06-16T11:24:00.008+09:00

Things that have amused me today:

Sign above a box of wooden coffee stirrers at work: "Please do not return used sticks!!!"
Woman in front of me on an escalator: diligently trying to clear a wedgie from her butt while talking on the phone
Laxatives display:

I can has... a poo?

~~~~~~~~~~

Is there anyone else out there that just cannot read a document on screen if it's zoomed to fit the screen? Is it just me that needs to have it at 100%, no more, no less? The only exception is if I'd have to scroll sideways to see the whole document at 100%; in those situations, it must be zoomed to fit the screen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now I'm going to tell you the story of how I was almost unable to board my flight back to Tokyo from San Francisco. After I passed through security, I spied a Coach store and went in to see if they had a purse that my friend was looking for (duty free! but they did not). A few days prior, the same friend had mentioned that Coach sunglasses fit well on small Asian nose bridges (they do!); so of course I had to see for myself. I put my passport and boarding pass down so that I could concentrate on trying on sunglasses and marvelling at how stunning I looked in them (and, I gotta be honest here, I totally did).

And then I ~~moseyed (mosied?)~~ dilly-dallied around the rest of the concourse, remembering my VIP(apers) - but not where I had seen them last - only when it came time to get to the gate. Which is when I rushed in a panic back to security and got a guy to help me look, which of course turned up nothing - a conclusion I came to on my own, since the guy just kind of wandered off at some point without telilng me that he had decided to stop helping me. I finally went back to ask at the Coach store even though I KNEW I would not have been so silly as to have left them there. Right... me and my silly self would have been in a silly mess had a store employee not taken the documents to my gate. Thank you, hallelujah! Made it to the gate just in time to be one of those annoying stragglers quickly ushered in (with the friendly advice to "Be careful next time, put it in your bag now") by the gate attendant.

So there you have it. Ginko biloba: must look into.

tamami: m.i.a. (abridged)

2008-06-02T12:16:00.008+09:00

Um, oops. Guess I managed to skip an entire month here. How you guys managed to go on this long without me, I don't know - but here is the story of why you've had to do so.

First, I managed to attract a stomach virus. Then, I went to Thailand for a week. Next, I was lazy and uninspired. After that, I went home for a week and a half (Target! and Trader Joe's! and did I mention Target? OH.MY.). And now, here I am.

The End.

More to come about my trip home, but not today, because I'm busy being lazy and uninspired.

one of those days

2008-04-23T14:39:00.014+09:00

I hate that people in Tokyo DO NOT GIVE A SHIT about those around them (unless they're paid to or are otherwise forced to interact). They do not move their share of halfway to avoid a collision with the person walking towards them; they do not hold a door open for you even if you're right on their heels; they do not refrain from pushing-without-actually-touching-or-making-eye-contact their way around small spaces (men of Japan, I'm looking at you*). We are all part of a moving, breathing society and are not just individual bubbles, sealed off from each other - and it absolutely eats at me, some days chomping and some days nibbling but always consuming, that people here just will not acknowledge that. I hear the counterargument that living in such a crowded, fast-paced environment necessitates some degree of shutting yourself off from the onslaught, a defense mechanism against the lack of personal space. But you know what, I lived in New York City, and it's the same crowded mess there (plus smelly and dirty to boot), but at least when someone bumps into you they acknowledge the fact of your existence instead of refusing to even look at you.

Granted, it's considered rude to be direct here - for example, in business settings (which seem to be the slowest in the march towards westernization**), you're not supposed to make direct eye contact upon meeting someone for the first time, initially directing your conversation instead to the business card they hand you. I understand this and, as strange and annoying as I may find it, I do appreciate it as one of the many cultural differences between Japan and the US. But the alternative here seems to be passive-aggressiveness - full-on elbow into my boob and not owning up to it (true story), pushy-pushy me first into the elevator even though none of us are going anywhere until everyone's in ANYWAY, SIR.

I am usually a very nice and reasonable person (just trust me on this one) - quick to say please and thank you, excuse me and sorry. I am also one of those people that doesn't take shit from anybody. Thus, I am always happy to hold open a door for you if you're behind me; but if you're coming through and I don't see the beginnings of a Thank you making its way out of your mouth, I will let the door go and hope it hits you. If we are on paths that look like they'll collide, I am always ready to move to the side - as long as you do too - so that we don't bump into each other; but if you don't, then neither will I and I will not hesitate to roll over your foot while walking my bike past you in the same straight line I was headed (true story). So perhaps one of the worst things about all this individuals-in-a-bubble shit is the person it's turning me into. I find myself way too often in the "if you don't..." scenario, which pisses me off and has resulted in a habit of doing MY part, moving MY share of halfway and not an inch more, bracing my arm to "accidentally" jostle the other person in passing; or turning around to face someone who has just bumped me a little too hard, glaring or saying something to make them look at me. I don’t like always being in battle mode, it's frustrating and exhausting and it MAKES ME ANGRY. But hell if I am going to be bobbling around trying to avoid people who aren't trying to avoid me (because I am stubborn like that). I don't look for confrontation and I certainly don't enjoy it; but if it's warranted I won't shy away from it.

End of rant.
Aunt Flo, see you in a day or two.

* I consider these to be societal sins whether you have boobs or a penis, but I'm looking at the men because in my experience, they are the sinners more often than women are. And in any case, bullying around a person smaller than you (which I pretty much always am with the men, and almost never with the women), well that just ain't right.
** I am not in any way implying that westernization is the best way or the right way; it's simply "the" way things are headed.

can i maybe just... lick it?

2008-04-22T11:15:00.008+09:00

I was at the supermarket again yesterday, and The Box was gone! Someone bought the $400 pair of mangoes, and I missed my chance at a new life filled with gold and diamonds!* In place of The Box, though, was a smaller box. I thought it was really nice of them to consider those of us mere mortals who are unable to buy a pair of mangoes for $400, and allow us the option of buying just one for $200.

for those times when money's tight and you're waiting for the next paycheck

* I am familiar with the old adage that riches won't buy happiness, but who are we kidding, it comes close enough. (I kid, I kid!)

lifestyles of the rich and crazy (or Japanese)

2008-04-16T16:37:00.009+09:00

The fruits and vegetables here in Japan look so perfect, they almost seem fake (and they're not just all brawn and no brains - they almost always taste better than their American counterparts). As we all know, though, getting beauty both inside and out doesn't come cheap - it definitely costs a pretty penny to get your daily fruits and veggies here. Some fruits, though - and I still haven't figured out what sets them apart, nor whether anyone buys them - cost up to a BAJILLION TIMES what they would cost back home.

To wit:

Triangle watermelon (don't ask - I don't know) - $70

Round watermelon - $100

Watermelon-in-a-cage (again, don't ask - I know not) - $150

Mangoes - $70 each (bet you can't buy those off a truck on the side of the road)

And, the grand finale, which I unfortunately don't have a picture of as I was too sticker-shocked to do anything but stare with my mouth slightly open - a box of two mangoes, priced at 40,000 yen. Which equals, approximately, $400. In case you missed it the first time, that is for two mangoes. People, that is TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS a mango. I may have to go back to the supermarket to stake out that box, follow the buyer and beg for a place in their hopefully generous heart and, more importantly, their gold- and diamond-encrusted home.

i know you are but what am i?

2008-04-15T10:35:00.009+09:00

Is it just me, looking at this from outside the country and thus somewhat removed, or is all this presidential campaigning business getting out of hand? I can't say that I've been following closely enough to really have as informed an opinion as I'd like about Hillary vs. Obama, though I think I've been getting an Obama vibe for awhile now (based on not much more than a hunch and some warm fuzzy feelings about Michelle).

And I usually shy away from talking about politics (mostly because, see above, I don't know enough to have an intelligent conversation about it) but I just have to say that lately, Hillary has really been getting on my nerves. I mean really, Hillary, wipe the brown off your nose, it's a little too obvious that you're saying anything it takes to pander to your audience of the hour. Telling gun supporters that your dad took you out on a little lake behind a little cottage that your grandfather built (perhaps chopping not only the wood but the trees the wood came from while your grandmother churned butter between salting the pork and hanging the wash on the line while knee deep in snow), and taught you how to shoot a duck with a shotgun? What a convenient, perfect little story from the senator of New York and former First Lady with a net worth of about a bajillion dollars who, just to be clear, is not an elitist and is JUST LIKE YOU AND ME.

Obama, please choose your words more carefully from now on. We all mis-speak (just ask your sniper fire-dodging opponent), but there's no need to give Hillary anything more to latch onto, twist into something else and beat into the ground.

please ignore the puddle of drool collecting at my keyboard...

2008-04-09T18:15:00.004+09:00

...as I wipe my lick marks off my monitor, thanks to this food blog I randomly came across. It's a shame ingredients are so hard to come by here in Japan.

It's also a shame that I'm probably too lazy to actually go out and try to hunt them down, ingredient by ingredient (because no, it would be way too easy for all of them to actually be in the same place here).

So... back to drooling.

in other news...

2008-04-09T12:34:00.007+09:00

So, how 'bout that PREGNANT MAN? You know, the one that used to be a woman, then had a sex change operation to become a man, but kept the female reproductive organs because s/he wanted to have a child one day? As a man. Which I guess was a good thing, because he is now carrying a child, the result of artificial insemination, which was performed at home. By his wife.

To be clear, I am not knocking the sex change, nor the subsequent marriage, nor the couple's decision to have children. All of that is part of a normal life that I strongly believe everyone, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, is entitled to. And I am absolutely of the opinion that many traditional gender roles have no place in today's society (and by that, I'm talking more about the expectation that each gender has specific roles, such as the woman cooking and cleaning and raising the kids and the man out hunting and breadwinning, and less about the actual choices that individuals make).

But I'm struggling with this particular situation. On one hand, is it really that different for the father instead of the mother to be physically carrying and then popping that kid out, than it is for the father to assume any other "traditionally female" role such as raising the child after it's born? I mean, the father used to be a woman, and obviously has the mental and emotional capacity to bear a child. After that, all you need is the hardware, and he obviously has that as well. On the other hand, daddy dearest is no longer a woman - granted, he still has female reproductive parts (hmm, I wonder whether he also has male bits) but self-identifies as a male, which I think is the key factor. And men are simply not meant - biologically, physiologically, whatever the proper term is - to bear children. This guy is having his cake and eating it too, and whether you look to a higher being or to science for guidance on these matters, that somehow just feels... wrong.

So, moving on, let's now discuss that baby-making incestual couple. I actually don't have the words to expresss my reaction to this, so will go with these three: mouth, hanging, and open. And um, judge, your solution was to ban them from having sex with each other? Did you post a sentry in the bedroom to enforce this? And can anyone enlighten me, what does it actually mean to have been "released on a good behavior bond"? Released them from the no-hanky-panky ban, for a few hundred dollars? I actually don't even know where to go with this topic, so um, yeah. There's that.

on Lost

2008-03-28T12:21:00.004+09:00

*Almost-spoilers ahead! "Almost" because whenever I talk about this show my mind races, my thoughts become jumbled and words just kind of tumble out willy-nilly, so there's a good chance you won't know what I'm talking about anyway.*

The last few episodes (I think I'm caught up… the last one I saw was the Michael story) had me going "Wha…aaaat???", mouth agape, eyes bugged. Seriously though - wha???? First there was the one about Desmond and the scientist guy and the time warping and "Wait, what? Where is he? Oh, Australia. Wait, WHEN is he? HUH??" And then there was "Hi, I'm Kevin Johnson." I almost pee'd myself. And then Sun and Jin - my feelings during that episode were part nervous anticipation - it seemed easy enough to follow, Sun and Jin, okay, but what will they spring on us now?! - and part frustration because Jin, FORGET THE DAMN PANDA ALREADY AND JUST GO! But then, at the end - holy shitters! And heartbreak - I almost cried during Sun's monologue (ok, attributable partly to me being smack in the middle of my Almost Ladies' Days). That episode did such a number on me that I completely forgot to do my routine post-show tally of the Oceanic 6, until the next day, standing on the subway platform, it hit me and my jaw dropped (and I think my hands might actually have tensed up and spread out in surprise) and I had to immediately text P or else burst with the burden of the unshared revelation. Sorry Barnum, too bad Bailey - Lost wins, it is the Greatest Show on Earth.

And I've just found out that the next episode won't be aired until April 24! Excuse me while I go drown my sorrows by sticking my head into a chocolate cake.

the fairer sex: the truth revealed

2008-03-27T20:02:00.004+09:00

Ladies who use the bathrooms in this office: why is it that several times a week I almost walk into a stall, almost prepare to do my business, almost hover my bare bum mere inches away from the SKID MARKS YOU HAVE LEFT BEHIND? And also, ladies, when you've finished your business, pulled up your panties and are about to leave the stall, please take a second to turn around and make sure you have not left a Down There Hair perched atop the toilet seat.

a little of this, a little of that

2008-03-14T13:35:00.010+09:00

Booger McSnotterson - my springtime alter ego. I seem to get allergies much worse here than I did in New York, and last season knocked me on my ass. So far, though, this season has been somewhat more bearable (as long as I pop my daily Claritin), but man, I have become a booger factory. Not snot, mind you - my nose isn't really runny so much as it's… well, boogery. Is it that I actually should be snotty (after all, the allergy commercials usually say "itchy eyes, runny nose", not "itchy eyes, dried up snot", right?), but I am dehydrated from the Claritin, thus booger here, booger there, booger booger everywhere? I guess that's about all I have to say on that topic.

I've been on a bit of a (window-) shopping bender, and at the moment would really like to have a money tree. If not a money tree, though, I would settle for this - in pink, and yellow, and navy blue, and oh yes the wooden one, ooh and the red brick is cute, as is the emerald, and well, why don't I save myself the typing and you the time and just say Yes please, one of each. But again, only if the money tree is not an option.

Yoga Toes - I also want. Now, I am not such a slave to fashion that I'll spend hours in discomfort for the sake of looking hot; however, I am also not such a putz that I'll wear orthopedic-looking shoes to work either. Thus, I spend my weekends in sneakers or flip-flops, but most of my daily work (and night-on-the-town) shoes walk (pun totally intended!) that thin line in between - so they are ok, but only if I don’t need to do a lot of walking or standing (drunken dancing, though - totally ok). Enter Yoga Toes! I've heard, though not from anyone I personally know (but also from sources more reliable than advertising), that these little tootsie stretchers really do help achy breaky feet; and the website even claims that they "increase circulation, straighten bent toes, and can even realign the bones"!! Who here is not yet sold?? But wait, lest you think that I have (or am on my way to) goblin feet and gnarled toes, let me just nip that in the bud and say that I do not! They are perfectly decent looking, no corns, not dry or scaly, second toe proportionate to and shorter than big toe and all that. Except we won't talk about my one early-stage foot affliction, which shall accordingly remain unnamed but which rhymes with onion.

Speaking of feet. It's very common in Japan for people to wear their nice professional shoes on their commute to/from work, and to wear absolutely hideous orthopedic-looking sandals while in the office - pretty much same same but different from the way we wear sneakers or flip flops on the commute, and nice shoes in the office. Different priorities as to who you want to look cute for, I guess. Like so:

I've actually never seen the colored kind; they're usually like the
black ones in the center. Even the filename of this picture, which I found on a
Japanese online shopping site, was "ol_sandal03" - ol as in office lady.

So today on my way back to the office after lunch, I passed a girl leaving the building wearing the standard-issue office lady black suit, black stockings (the kind with the extra material to reinforce the toe part - I cannot stress enough how that is a fashion DON'T), and… I almost can't say it… Birkenstocks. Beige Birkenstocks. Just… honey, no.

where's my foot scrubby when i need it?

2008-02-22T11:32:00.008+09:00

So help me god (and I am not a religious person), somebody somewhere in this office, within earshot, at this very moment, is CLIPPING THEIR NAILS. I can't begin to tell you how much this disgusts me, makes me want to crawl out of my skin and over to said clipper of nails and ask if I could maybe slough off my foot calluses into their desk drawer, because to me, that is the same thing.

While we're at it, I will confess that I almost throttled a kid on the train the other day, for comitting the second worst living-amongst-society sin ever, the first being coughing or sneezing with mouth wide open and thus spewing bits of snot and spittle everywhere. This kid was maybe 14 or 15, and the entire time we were on the train together he could not stop scratching his DISGUSTING ITCHY HEAD. It wasn't like it was just the one itchy spot he may have missed while shampooing. It was his ENTIRE HEAD, as if there were wee little goblin creatures having a party on his head, causing itchiness everywhere their little goblin athlete's feet landed. Visions of the toe fungus mascot for that athlete's foot commercial are now dancing in my head, do you see why this is a problem?

And here, my visual for sin number one. Do you really want any chance of Mr. Snot and Mrs. Spittle, and all their little loogie babies, flying at projectile speed in airspace near you?

still giggling

2008-02-21T18:04:00.006+09:00

Best TV line in recent memory, courtesy of Lost: "Taller? You mean, like a giant?"

As in, Locke talking about Walt and saying he looked the same, except taller, and Sawyer going -

"Taller? You mean, like a giant?"

Hee!

sleeping with the lights on

2008-02-18T16:29:00.004+09:00

So another issue I've encountered in moving to a foreign country is being completely out of touch with pop culture (that includes movies, yes? Let's say that it does, because I’m going to talk about a movie). There are movie theaters here in Japan, and they do occasionally play American movies, but due to the extremely high prices for movie tickets - about $17 - and our general unwillingness to get out of our pajamas, P and I have only seen one movie here (we do not recommend Happy Feet). Anyway, the point is that I know pretty much nothing about what's in theaters, and in most cases will respond "what's that?" if you mention a movie title to me.

Now, on to my story. We were in the states for the holidays, and having nothing better to do after gorging ourselves on pho one night, decided to watch a movie. Drove to the movie theater, browsed what was playing, decided on I Am Legend, thinking "Will Smith, love him, can't go wrong with the Fresh Prince". Well, shit. I almost peed my pants when I finally realized what that movie is all about. I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out (am I slow? Would seeing commercials and trailers have prepared me?) but it was at least a full hour in, when he and the dog go running into the deep dark warehouse and I wondered why it was so deep and dark in there and why Will Smith was so freaked out and then, all of a sudden, HOLY SHIT WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS????

Let me just say, for those of you who don't know, that I do NOT do horror movies. I am chicken poop when it comes to things like that - I can't even watch those Freddie movies that are supposedly just silliness. And one time at the gym (back when I was living somewhere I understood the language… and also went to the gym), a commercial came on for one of those scary movies, and the little possessed kid popped up onscreen and I swear to you I almost fell off the treadmill.

So the rest of I Am Legend was spent barely breathing, eyes wide open, squeezing the life out of P's hand (because if one of those zombie things ever jumped out of the screen I was going to be damned if P was going to run away and not take me with him). It was all very exhausting, and now I'm exhausted from re-living the whole thing. I'm going to go find a cookie.

from the soapbox

2008-02-15T16:55:00.004+09:00

Living outside the US, in a country whose language I can barely just get by with, has made it necessary for me to make an actual effort to keep up with current events and world news - I can't just soak it in haveint the tv on in the background. So, every few days, after I finish perusing my daily diet of blogs and celebrity news (hey, we all have priorities), I surf the wave of cnn.com to see what the world's been up to. Today was one of those days - and man, do I need a drink. A(nother!) shooting spree at a college; routine death and destruction in too many countries around the world, and suspicions that mentally disabled women were pimped out by staff in their psychiatric hospital to serve as possibly unknowing suicide bombers (??? can't make this shit up); penguins dying in the south pole and polar bears dying in the north pole (and the latter being waitlisted - WAITLISTED! - for the endangered species list) due to climate change - and all this is just this morning's news.

And then there's Beijing and the Olympics. That China was chosen to host the Olympics is exciting and great and all that, but - to be completely honest - for me, only a little bit. I just can't muster up that much of the warm and fuzzy in the face of all these other China-related issues that are a little difficult to kick under the rug. Things like human rights and mistreatment of animals and Darfur and the general bass-ackwardness of so many things about this country that is my motherland and fatherland (ok, not exactly, more like ancestorland). And the Chinese government's position that the Olympics should be purely about sport and not at all about politics and the state of the world - C'MON, PEOPLE, you've been given the honor of hosting an event that is supposed to represent the harmonious coming together of different countries around the world. It is not at all outrageous for people to want you, as representative of all this harmony and togetherness, to maybe consider bringing your policies and actions a little more in line with the more generally accepted (and acceptable) basic philosophies of the world.

And can anyone tell me why the IOC would choose, as the host of the mother of athletic competitions, such a badly-polluted city?

I fully appreciate that China has invested oodles of time and money and other resources to show the world how far it has come, and I hate that I am coming off as bashing China - but fireworks and fancy buildings can't take the place of actual meaningful reforms in the things that matter.

But those fancy buildings - especially to me as a former almost-architect - mama like.

firsts

2008-02-05T10:32:00.001+09:00

On my way home from work last night, I saw two things that I had never seen before in Japan, and never thought I would see.

The first sight was on the subway ride. We pulled into a station, the doors opened, and in came a walking piece of MAN CANDY. I'm pretty sure my eyes involuntarily did that thing where they pop open for a second out of surprise and delight, then back to normal size because I'm suave and subtle like that. And then I silently gave thanks for peripheral vision so that I could stare without, you know, staring (ahem... hi P, you sexy beast, you!). There's no way he was native Japanese (sorry, no offense, but this guy looked nothing like a skinny girly-mon whose ass I could kick); he actually reminded me of Gabby's lawnboy-toy from Desperate Housewives. Allow me to illustrate:

Hellooooo nurse!

The second sight was, unfortunately, not so delightful. I came up the stairs from the subway, to the dead end of the street where my apartment is. There are usually a few cabs there, their drivers taking a break. And apparently, sometimes peeing. Because there, under a streetlamp, in the middle of the sidewalk a couple feet away from bushes that could have provided some cover, was a middle-aged man - perfectly sober as far as I could tell, and presumably the owner of one of the idling cabs - taking a leak. Gah!

come here often?

2008-01-31T15:57:00.001+09:00

Obviously, I don't, at least not lately. My apologies.

First of all, a belated "Happy holidays!!" to everyone!

This wouldn't be a proper post without a cameo, if not starring-role, appearance by my little one, now would it? (I miss my dog, can you tell?)

So an exciting thing that's happened (one of many, I'm happy to report!) since I last held an audience here is that I started my new job this week. At my new firm, that, just to make clear, is awesome because it is NOT my old firm (see rant on some people's children's need to grow a pair). There are, of course, many other reasons it's a much better place for me, which I will not go into as I don't want to get into the habit of talking about work in this blog, and I also don't want to trash my old firm (because don't get me started...) (okay, no more, for serious now). So instead, I will just note these three things:

1. Gmail, and other general email websites, are blocked. BLOCKED! I do realize this is not a new concept and that I am not alone on this personal-email-less island of angst and misery (nor am I at all dramatic), but this is the first time it's happened to me. Thus, important. There is suddenly an even more severe shortage of hours in the day, and what, I'm supposed to WORK all day? ALL day?
2. There is a smoking room here. It's our very own, on our floor, and is not shared (I don't think) with other tenants in the building. Is this the result of [British firm (do the English smoke a lot?)] + [located in Japan (the Japanese were born with cigarettes in their mouths)]? I don't smoke, but I find this amazing because, well, see above - very own smoking room.

3. I get to listen to British accents ALL DAY LONG. *rawr*

So Japanese people love to carry around little containers and holders for their stuff. (Yes, this is a new topic). They buy change holders (I'd go ahead and call them change purses - a duck is a duck - but am being non-gender-specific... like many of the guys in Japan *badoom-chi!*), tissue-pack holders, holders for their plastic drink bottles, cigarette holders, personal containers to ash their cigarettes in (because it's rude to ash on the ground, I'm told). When they hit the slopes, they still love to carry around their little containers - so in any snowsports store, you can find these same little holders, but in versions designed specifically for use while in the snow - e.g., easy to open and handle with gloves on. Including personal ashers! So as not to ash on the mountain! Those guys.

And with that, happy almost-Friday!*

* Makes up for my belated holiday greeting, yes?

missing the mochiness

2007-12-17T11:29:00.001+09:00

Woe is me, she whose little girl is off being best friends with someone else.

pretty little thing

2007-12-14T15:09:00.000+09:00

Oh! My. Hello there, my love.

to twist or to dip?

2007-12-11T18:32:00.000+09:00

Holy mother. This made me forget, for just a few seconds, my urge to punch a lot of people around here. Are your taste buds about to explode? Did you lick the screen? Drool on the keyboard? Mmm.

cajone baloney

2007-12-11T16:38:00.000+09:00

I am really fucking pissed off.

This Friday will be my last day at my current job – a day that I have been waiting for since 3 weeks ago when I gave notice; since 2 months ago when I started actively looking for a new job; since many moons ago when I wanted to actively look for a new job but decided to wait until I had been here a year. You know, in good faith.

Well I'll tell you what. Good faith can shove it. Okay, not always. But when dealing with the type of people that it's become apparent that I'm dealing with – the type of people that promise something we'll call one bajillion dollars (because really, whether you're talking about one dollar or one bajillion dollars, or my leftover french fries for a bite of your sandwich, a deal is a deal), and then stall and stall and wave off repeated inquiries about said bajillion dollars, and give excuses and place blame, and then say it's "only fair" to split the difference because I am leaving so soon, and offer me a "compromise".

I don't need to go into all the absolutely completely 100% valid reasons I am leaving – no one at work is the least bit surprised at my departure – and why under these circumstances, one year is more than reasonable. I won't list off all the lame excuses I've been given. Or point out the fact that it shouldn't be my problem that my higher-ups didn't have the balls to take this up with their higher-ups when they should have, and that had they sprouted cajones a year ago we would not be in this situation. I already went into all of this in the conversation I just had with one such cajone-less person.

This is not one of those gray situations that could be argued both ways. This was a deal. I am extremely disappointed at the type of firm this has turned out to be. This is no way to do business, especially for a very large, international law firm that is trying to build and grow in a market that it is clearly struggling in (this is not just me badmouthing the firm - this is me commenting on the heavy bleeding of associates coupled with lack of "good" - as in interesting, challenging - work).

Integrity could have been their one redeeming quality. But now, they're the kid who's not only ugly and stupid, but a bully too. And a booger-eater. Little fucker.

bits

2007-11-30T17:07:00.001+09:00

My newest silly, fluffy pleasure is the show Gossip Girl. I know, I know. I scoffed at it after watching the first episode... and then the second... and then the third. But I kept downloading, and watching, and wanting more! Despite the fact that anytime that Chuck Bass kid is on screen, which is a lot, all I can see are those ginormous nostrils of his and how you could probably fly a plane up one and down the other, and he'd just be like "Hey - where'd my boogers go?"

While I'm on the topic, I would also really like for him to wipe that I-think-I'm-hot-shit smirk off his face. And open his eyes a bit more (let's face it, guys can't rock the bedroom eyes). Oh, and STOP with the arrogant head-tilt. Good thing I don't know a Chuck Bass (anymore), I just might have to punch him.

And also? People who say they hate such-and-such tv show because "that is SO not how it really is", I just want to punch them, too. Normal people watch tv (and read books, etc) - other than the news and the Discovery channel - precisely to get away from how boring "how it really is" is.

My new lotion smells uh-MAY-zing. I can't stop sniffing myself. They call it 24-Hour Lasting Moisture. I call it Eau de Cookies, Sunshine and Heaven.

Bowling in Japan is pretty much the same as bowling in the U.S. I suck at both. But bowling SHOES, on the other hand - they are really freaking cute here. And, they reside at the bowling alley in these locker-looking containers, one "locker" per shoe size. You go to the appropriate locker, press a green button, and *ka-thunk* - out pops a pair of the cutest bowling shoes ever, like a vending machine.

Speaking of shoes, go ahead - tell me how hot and darling (yes, at the same time!) my new shoes are.

mochi-licious

2007-11-26T17:18:00.000+09:00

A couple weeks ago, I went home for several days. As usual and as expected, I loved all of it - the food, the family, the friends, and last but not least (and possibly even MOST - but don't tell my dad!) - watching Mochi get acquainted with her new platonic-live-in-boyfriend, Toki! Here is their story.

They sniffed:

They sized each other up:

They had a bite to eat:

They wrestled:

They got comfy:

They napped:

And - are you ready for this? Because it might be more cuteness than your heart can handle, and then it might explode, like mine did. They cuddled! With, I'm told, many (platonic! Mochi is NOT that kind of girl!) kisses.

Mochi is currently enjoying her life of leisure in California, and I am counting down the days until I get to see her again!

c-o-n-spiracy

2007-11-01T14:31:00.000+09:00

So there's a church in Kansas that believes that the war in Iraq is a punishment for America's tolerance of homosexuality. They spread their gospel by picketing military funerals with signs saying things like "Thank God for dead soldiers" and "God hates fags". The latter, cleverly, is their website address.

Dude. Really?

Let me try to follow the logic. Nation is too tolerant of homosexuality, as evidenced by our fearless leader (who thinks gay marriage will bring down the "most fundamental institution of civilation") and the 10 states (5, if only full recognition counts) that recognize gay marriage. Wrath of god brings George W. (god's henchman), Iraq war in tow. Ah-HA! *light bulb* U.S. military accepts gays in the service! As long as they don't know about it (they're just being coy - open and full acceptance would be way too obvious and the gig would be up). Ergo, each soldier death in Iraq is proof of god's disappointment. Clearly.

mm-kay.

weenie

2007-10-31T14:13:00.000+09:00

Happy Halloweenie!

Introducing P:

Sexy beast, no?

* Edit: sexy beast would like to point out that you aren't really getting the full effect of this costume - you're not seeing the mustache. Which was discarded because it didn't allow for beverage consumption.

nerd alert

2007-10-29T12:42:00.000+09:00

I am a word nerd, so this is totally up my alley! My determination to break level 45 (at 41 I reluctantly got back to work) has gotten us 890 grains of rice closer to ending world hunger.

I'd like to meet the genius who thought to include a vocabulary level rating. As much as I love the idea of feeding the world's hungry and all that (goes nicely with my reusable grocery bags), I'll admit that my determination was fueled more by I WILL GET TO THE NEXT LEVEL DAMMIT! than by thoughts of actually ending world hunger. Though in my defense, the latter is what brought me to the site in the first place.

So I just read in the site's FAQs that it's rare for people to get above level 48. IT'S ON.

lost in translation

2007-10-24T17:05:00.000+09:00

Can someone please tell me how to get the navbar thingbob at the top of the page to be in ENGLISH? It's fine when i'm logged in to blogger, as my blogger language setting is English. My Internet Options language is set to English. All other websites appear all in English (convincing the computer to not automatically default to the Japanese version of some websites is another problem for another day).

Everything is set to English! I am set to English!

Help.

*edit: Hallelujah, I've been touched by a miracle! After days of angrily glaring at the Japanese characters in the navbar thingbob (including earlier this morning), they have up and turned into English! *boggle*

coming soon!

2007-10-19T22:34:00.000+09:00

(i know - the suspense is killing you)