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Speaking of work, six HR people held our hands through our seven month training program, and to thank them, we decided to write personal thank-yous on these brownie pan sized cardboard cards designed especially for these things. We started writing them in late October, after training, and they are still not finished. I think that is basically giving the HR people a big "FUCK YOUR LIFE WE DIDN'T LEARN SHIT" because we don't even have the organizational skills to pass around 6 pieces of cardboard and have everyone write a fucking sentence on them.

Speaking of my classmates, there is this dude who probably has the sickest job ever. He is a little effeminate, but fucks slunts like Giggity giggity goo. But that is neither here nor there. He is a little effeminate, and that landed him as a job as an Esthetics Instructor, and that means all he does he touch titties and teach other girls how to touch titties. That in itself is awesome, but coupled with the fact that he leaves work right on time, or perhaps 30 minutes after, and goes home throughout the day to just chill, cause he lives 10 minutes from work, and is always out by himself, makes his job almost better than Vanessa Carlton's bodyguard/fill-her-upper (when she is feeling "empty," yaddimean???).

Speaking of Vanessa Carlton, she is someone who does not bother me. Along with The Tiz, Betty Suarez, Kenny Fucking Powers, and the Japanese baseball team IF they demolish Korea tomorrow.

Speaking of the Japanese baseball team, the World Baseball Classic games are usually played when it is morning for me, when I am at work, so I cannot watch. But I do have the Internet, so I just look at the scores, and imagine what is happening, and envision myself in sunny San Diego, eating hot dogs and drinking beer. Even though I've only seen perhaps 10 baseball games in my life, my mental images are probably more accurate than a dude who's been blind all his life snacking on kiwi listening to porn. Isn't that sad, or for those that are not empathetic, bothersome?

Speaking of bothersome, there is this fagle I fucking hate at the gym. Not only does he constantly check his shit out in the mirror while not doing anything else, HE FUCKING WEARS JEANS TO THE GYM. That slightly bothers me for some reason. And on the train home today, this fuck was sniffling literally every three seconds. That must honestly have been every breath he took, and I wondered why the fuck he did not blow his nose. It's not like he was doing anything except sniffling, and Japanese people are good at multitasking.

Speaking of Japanese multitasking, like I said, Japanese people are Jessica Alba fantastic at multitasking. I mean, it takes descendants of ninjas to be able to grope a high schooler with one hand, while reading a newspaper, and balancing your shit on the swerving train. So there are these game shows where they'll have celebrities jump rope and answer stupid fucking questions. Today I saw an evolution, with celebrities having to run on this really fast treadmill while trying to answer questions, such as what the Pythagorean theorem is and how it applies to everyday life.

I went to Tokyo for the weekend, and I was looking forward to using the much anticipated Wi-Fi network on the Bullet Train. But it did not appear to be up and running going there or coming back. Fuck...

My mom came for a little visit because her alma mater, Sacred Heart, was having a 100 year celebration. It was all old women and that did not please me all that much, but as we were all waiting for Empress Michiko (also an alum) to grace us with her presence, this super cute girl came and stood by me, so I figured I should halla. She tells me she just graduated, and the conversation was rather pleasant, then she dropped the bomb and told me she is 18. Damn, I totally lol'd and thought she had graduated from college. As I was about to ask for her cellular telephone e-mail and number, my moms called me over to meet someone. FML.

Thinking back to my Top 5 Greatest Hits, one definitely has to be breaking up with my ex. I dated her for 3 months, but the last two months were unhappy times, like Auschwitz. Sometimes I'll think about it and mentally pat myself on the back for doing something that enriched my life more than the ability to speak five languages with Klingons.

Junk mail, on my cellphone, bothers me. So I'll text a pretty girl, then eagerly await a response, and when my phone vibrates to alert me to an incoming message, it is quite a disappointment to find it to be a marketer and not a Japanese beauty.

My team was having one of those productive meetings, and it was running rather long, and I had to fart. Like huge. Normally I would try to sneak one by, like a Mexican pretending to be a captain's chair in a minivan attempting to sneak across the border, but sitting right next to me was the girl I am rather attracted to, so I held it in.

I don't know if it's just me, but when I hold farts in, they grow exponentially. Now, I don't know what the correct unit of measure for farts is, but let's say if I let the fart go when I first felt it tickling my anus like a playful kitten, it's a 10. And perhaps another couple will follow, because good things come in threes. All told, it's 25. But holding it in brings the fury, and the subsequent releases, at my estimation, is 1,000. After the meeting I darted to the brochure room, which is the size of a small walk in closet. I let go, and the sound reverberated throughout the room, even with all that paper to absorb sound waves. The smell was awful, yet pleasant, cause it was my creation. I wonder how long that stink will last in that small, enclosed space. Haha.

Halla you drunks. We celebrated St. Patty's Day up in this bitch at Japan's oldest Irish Pub, Murphy's in Osaka. I introduced my coworkers to the fine Irish traditions of downing Irish Car Bombs, beating your wife, and then passing out. Which is a pretty normal day for the Irish, though St. Patty's Day has people wearing green like the world's biggest alien dress up.

Second picture is with a girl on my team, and the dude who sits in front of me. Girl was not feeling our shit, said she had to go to the bathroom around 9, and cut the fuck out. Not that I blame her because it was a shit show.

Fourth picture. We lost another one.

Check out part of my desk. The dude who sits in front of me ordered a bunch of cosmetics and shit for his wife, and they gave him 10 mirrors, so he started passing them out. I now have a rearview mirror for my desk, because I won't lie I read a lot of Wikipedia and it bothers me when people are all "im in ur personal space, looking at your computer screenz." But I think people got the wrong idea and now think that I am a narcissist. Not too worried about it, because there are much worse things that people can perceive me as, Chinese for one...

Don't you hate when you need to sleep, but can't fall asleep? It's like the one person who cares about you the most, yourself, is doing his/her utmost to ensure failure, and not only is that unpleasant, but it's nucking futs.

Is this not fucked up? I was waiting for the elevator, and these two walk up after me. We get in, and apparently we are getting off on the same floor, which is occupied entirely by a restaurant. I am a gentleman, and held the door for them, so they walked into the restaurant first. And took the last available table. That is a fucking dick move.

I would've said something, but I find it more productive to complain on the Internet.

There is a 3 minute difference, at its worst, between my phone and my computer. That bothers me, because I don't know how to set the time on my phone, and the computer time is more or less synchronized with whatever clock is used to set off the bells. Which is all that counts, the bells.

         

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What it do, yo, yo!

Check out my indoor soccer pictures ok

My manager came back from his business trip to Iran and Dubai, and while he did not dabble in arms and anti-American sentiments, our dealer in Iran gave him two sacks. One full of almonds, and the other full of pistachios. That's awesome, because I love both. They were really salty, and I am a salt master, so I considered it "well seasoned." They also had some sort of flavor to them. The almonds kinda tasted like Cheetos. And they must've been crop dusted with MSG because I could not stop eating and savoring the umami.

I was bored and Googled "pistachios," and read that Israel imports Iranian pistachios (which is the biggest producer in the world), and that makes the #2 producer, the United States, extremely butt hurt. People get butt hurt over anything.

Though I do find it rather odd that there's this random Israeli-Arab connection, because I think I've read that they got in a verbal altercation way back when and they're ones to hold a grudge. Whenever we ship something to an Arab country, we have to send it on a boat that certifies that it has never and will never stop at an Israeli port. And when we deal with Israelis, we have a separate corporation set up that only deals with them, because Israelis won't do business with companies that do business with Arabs.

At work I have a drawer full of food and I feel bad about myself. They're not snacks though so that's a little better. It's mostly beef jerky and peanuts. But the people around me love candy, so they're always handing out chocolate and candy and sometimes it makes me think of MC Pee Pants and I want candy bubblegum and taffy skip to the sweetshop with my sweetheart Sandy got my penny saved so I'm her sugar daddy I'm her Hume Cronyn she's my Jessica Tandy I want candy.

People dress up so strangely at the gym. Some are like superheroes. My favorite is this pendejo who wears what appears to be a full body wetsuit or some shit that makes him look like Aquaman. Now, Aquaman has two powers, being ~*fabulous*~, and being able to talk to creatures of the sea. I haven't read any news about a dude who can talk to fish, so we know what his thuperpower is.

My second favorite is this Muay Thai fighter. Now, I couldn't clown him if he were in a Muay Thai gym, but there is absolutely no reason to be in colorful short shorts with dragons on them to use the weight machines, no matter how many times you've seen Ong Bak.

     

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I went and got my hair did, and I don't know what the deal is, but when my stylist styles my hair, she makes me look like a total puta.

Today, being a weekend and all, I waited excessively, and while getting a shoulder and neck massage, I was flipping through the magazines they laid out for me. I usually only have time to read one, the Osaka food magazine, but today was ridiculous, so I took a gander at some of the other magazines at my disposal, and I have a complaint. Why the fuck do magazines that are geared toward men only have pictures of dudes? Forgive me if I am mistaken, but during my free time I don't want to be looking at pictures of Ben Affleck, David Beckham, and all those other shitheads.

But on the bright side, there is this absolute stunner of an assistant that works there, and I killed time by openly staring, but mentally fondling myself gently. Hah.

Yesterday being White Day, I asked the girl that was washing my hair what she did. We got to talking about Valentine's Day, and flowers, and I was surprised to learn that girls in Japan would be highly embarrassed to be sent flowers at work. In the U.S., if some slunt gets flowers sent to her at work, you know Gladys, Beatrice, Hope, and anyone else in nearby cubicles would be all over that, screaming, "Oh no he didn't GURRLLL... You going to be sucking some good dick tonight!"

<333

   

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Japanese people love smoking. Absolutely love it. I saw these for sale at a store, and don't really understand what the fuck it is all about, but it is some sort of electric cigarette which mimics a real cigarette, minus all the bad chemicals and shit. It's hella expensive too.

Yesterday was March 14, and March 14 in Japan is White Day. It is not a celebration of Scandinavia, nor one of dudes in sheets who like to burn intersecting pieces of wood. Valentine's Day here is when women give men chocolate. Since people in Japan can't fathom receiving something and not giving something back in return, a month later, White Day, is where men give women chocolate.

Let's talk about S&M. When you hear S&M, what do you think of? I think of bondage and porn I avoid when browsing those sites with a variety of video clip options. "S" and "M" come up in regular conversation several times throughout the day over here, and it's usually nonsexual. For example, if Person A, a male, lightly teases Person B, a girl, using such vernacular as "shithead" or "dickhead," he'll be chided as being "S." People love asking and guessing what blood type you are, and if you are a "S" or a "M." To be honest, I hadn't really given it much thought, and often get confused between the two. But while writing this, I thought deeply about this issue, and realized that if I had to pick one, I would be a "S," because I would rather do A2M rather than get drilled with a strap-on.

What say you?

Isn't it convenient that "Hitler" is such an uncommon surname? Only a few people had to change their names after that rather dark period in the 30's and 40's.

I think I am the only stunta up in this bitch to clean out the lint filters in the dryers. Are people just being lazy ass bitches or do they lack my skills as a housewife?

Last night we had a goodbye party for a coworker. These things usually start at 7pm, and since I keep it unbelievably real when it comes to working hours, I have an hour and a half to kill. There is probably only one other individual who keeps it even more real than me, and he is my goddamn hero. He is more accurate than an atomic clock and cuts out promptly at 5:30:00:00:00:00:00. And takes a cumulative hour of smoke breaks throughout the day.

It was Friday, and when the 5:30 bell rang, I said "Nice" a little too loudly, and did not get the kindest of looks from my coworkers, who feel obliged to stay well past quitting time.

To kill some time, we took some Print Club (purikura) pictures. I think you know what I'm talking about; they are the little stickers that teenage girls have of themselves with the contrast up so high it makes anybody look good. Once I have access to a scanner at work, I'll post the rest ok

Check out my fucking cellphone. It's tight, huh? It is pretty ace, but the camera is so fucking shitty that I feel like I should be taking pics of Indians posing with peace pipes and buffalo.

You know how people say they like using cash because it's easier to keep track of? Fuck that shit. Back when I was in the U.S. I used cash only when absolutely necessary, and used a credit card even if I was buying orange Tic-Tacs. Japan is largely a cash based society so I use cash now, and I must tell you, after a night of drinking, I'll peer into my wallet like an excavation, and like many archeological digs, I'll find fucking nothing. I don't know if during the night, I think it's a great idea to become Communist, and throw my money in the trash, or if I balance out my krunk offensiveness by giving money to the homeless, but fuck, with a credit card at least I can check online and see what kind of shit I spent money on.

I don't get why people are so up in arms about Chris Brown and Rihanna. What is so surprising about this event? I mean, they're ________.

...What word did you put in the blank? You fucking racist.

       

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Life is all about decisions, isn't it? I never used to eat breakfast because I got stomach aches, but lately I have been spiking my metabolism with some chocolate bread. Our dorm serves "breakfast," however it is just toast... with margarine. What the fuck are we living on food stamps? Anyway, the convenience store didn't have the kind of bread I like this morning, so I had to make a decision, and that decision was a chocolate scone. It was not satisfying.

Last month I played indoor soccer with some people from work, and I was winded after 5 minutes, which I realized is probably not the best thing with me being 25 and all. Since then, I've been going to the gym like one of those guidos you see in memes.

If girls checked me out at the gym (or elsewhere, I guess) as much as gay guys, I would be in fucking heaven. Now, I am just on erf, because at least someone is paying attention to me.

Hell is a homeless dude, without a clever sign or cute animal that people pass by like shrubbery.

I lifted so much yesterday I now know what it feels like to have been raped. By a dude I don't even like or think is particularly good looking. Not the greatest feeling.

I can't wait until I am thin again. But I haven't been thin since I was 17, so I kinda forgot what that is like. Is it cool?

*Internet Confession Alert*
This dude I know posted n00ds of his wife on the Internet, and of course I saved them. They've been on my desktop for fucking ever now and I am at a loss, cause it just seems wasteful to delete them, but I also don't want to file them somewhere cause that's just creepy.

Yes, they have brought UGGs to Japan. UGGs may be an import worse than HIV.

It's almost "flower see" season, and I thought that would entail asking a hot girl out, and then walking around, looking at flowers, then to dinner, then...
but I was wrong. Apparently that is a sad ass thing to do, and to properly "flower see," you go with a group of people, bust out a picnic blanket, then hang out, picnic, and drink beer. That is also fun.

Oh, in two weeks we are having a BBQ sponsored by yours truly and some others in my department, and we are introducing Japan to Sloshball. I cannot fucking wait. I also cannot fathom how the fuck I'm going to keep myself in check because drinking during the day, especially playing Sloshball and Flip Cup, is going to own my life.

A couple weeks ago, this TILF (Twenty-nine year old I'd Like to Fuck) threw us a tequila party, and I went so big, people were backing away, screaming Godzilla. I don't recall much, but I went back to my old college self, getting krunk and offending people. And I threw up multiple times, until one of the waitresses forbade me from going into the bathroom and gave my keeper a plastic bag and told us to go outside. I am amazed I made it home.

I've been getting a lot of junk mail on my phone lately. What the fuck. Perhaps I shouldn't be exchanging phone numbers with girls at cabaret clubs.

*Yasu Misfortune Alert*
So I asked this rather attractive girl out on a date, and she said yes, so I was pretty pleased with myself and was looking forward to it all week... and then I got blown off. Fuck my life. Doubly fuck my life because I was blown off via text message, and at the end, it said, "Sorry, I know YOU were looking forward to it." Fuck my life.

I got a little emo, then asked around, and I have good news! The message was lost in translation, and what I literally translated, really means, "Sorry, I can't make it." Still...

   

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Hi_H_to_the_G.zip (68 KB)