Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Birthday Blowout Blues

Welcome to the very special On becoming a robot birthday edition. It will be just under a day until the big two-four, but taking a page out of my cousin Carrie's playbook, I have gone ahead and celebrated my birthday for a full week. The reasons for this are multiple, but the interesting thing about all of it is, that to celebrate my birthday, I have been going to other peoples parties. This week I have attended 3 birthday parties, parties for other people, some of the parties were for multiple people (of which I was not one, although the birthday boy at one of them gave me a shout out during the happy birthday song, which was cool). It would seem that in addition to intellegence, great skin, and devilishly good looks we Sagittarii were also given an affinity for working in east Asia. The only problem with this is I feel very swept aside. Like the birthdays of other people are more important than my own. Now truth be told, these are mostly parties that people planned for themselves, and the main reason that I didn't through one for myself was that I feared that people would be suffering from party fatigue. Lets face it, no party is way better than one that no one comes to. Oh well, I have a feeling that there might be a cake with my name on it (figuratively) on Saturday at my usual bar. That is if they haven't forgotten about me, I did go to two b-day parties in lieu of my normal Bar 60 nights (thats the bar). Incidentally, I did learn that I can pretty much stay out all night (literally) any week night, if I want to, and still get a decent night sleep before work. So until next time, or at least until my birthday is over, I will be singing the birthday song to myself (and probably to others if enough alcohol is ingested).

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Haircuts

Today, in a bold move, I decided to finally get my hair cut. It was just getting too long and shaggy. Getting your hair cut in a foreign country is a bit of an adventure though, because when you walk and explain what you want done, you are not entirely sure that the barber, who for all I can tell speaks no english at all, understands anything of what you want done. This is all compounded by the fact that the Japanese have some very "interesting" hair styles (about 30% of males and 10% of females have the old Bon Jovi look going on). Luckily for me I was able to explain effectively what I wanted using only hand gestures. The only thing that was shocking, and it was very shocking, came at the end of the haircut. You know how at the end of a haircut they always brush you off with that big soft brush, to get the excess hair off of you. Well in Japan they use a vacuum, and not just a little friendly vacuum, but a big-ass wall-mounted fucker. Imagine my surprise as this little Japanese man just starts vacuuming my head. You know that attachment for the vacuum wand that is used to clean curtains, well apparently you can use it to remove excess hair after a haircut too (you know the one, it has the little brush on it). Horrifying, really.

On a side note I am obsessed with shopping for shoes now. I think it has something to do with me losing my shoes when I arrived in Japan and having to walk around the airport barefoot. It could also be that the selection of men's shoes here is really good. What ever the reason I just bought my fifth pair today; my third pair of athletic shoes. This has to stop. Shoes are expensive. Seriously, I am spending more on shoes than on alcohol. Think about that.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Don't run into the train.

Thus far, the topics of the few entries that I have found time to post (mainly due to laziness) have just been minor incidents or things that I have notice. Today, however, I feel like pointing out some of the more interesting/weird things that I have noticed here. For instance, the existence of the kancho. Really, the kancho is less of a thing and more of a gesture, mostly performed by hyperactive children and drunken adults. The kancho is performed by clasping your hands together and extending your index fingers. This form then targets the exhaust pipe of the mark, and pokes. I here that children do it, I know that drunk adults do.

One of my personal favorites is the sign at the train station that simply reads, "Don't run into the train". I know what it means but I cannot help but be amused by the ambiguous language.

Also, police cars here do not intimidate like police cars in the states. If a cop is in a hurry in the state, a loud, piercing siren cuts through the air at a volume that can be heard at nearly a mile, inside of a car. Here the cop cars don't have sirens, they have some sort of muzak producing device. This same device also contains a recording of a Japanese lady politely asking for people to get out of the way in a cutsie falsetto voice. Imagine my surprise. Perhaps, the IPD should adopt a similar system, and that way they could safely apprehend the criminals as they are gripped in the throes of uncontrollable laughter.

Next item: cigarette advertisements. Now most of them are pretty standard smoke ads you know people having a good time, rugged men, mermaids, you know, the whole bit. But there is one that particularly catches my eye for it disturbing lunacy. You know those animal noses that you can buy at the zoo? Yeah, the people in the ads for this company are all wearing those noses. Looking like characters from some twisted children's morning show, they peddle their wares. I don't know though, maybe it is an anti-smoking campaign; you know, stop smoking or you too will turn into a dumbass.

This one isn't so much something strange that I notice from time to time. Rather this is an isolated event. I was walking to the post office to pick up my toothpaste (long story), when a lady ran past me. She was definately moving faster than me as I was moving at a leisurely pace. But I somehow kept catching up with her even though, so far as I know she never stopped running. It was like suddenly my legs had been possessed by the spirit of Jason Vorhees. Well at least his legs.

Well, I finally got around to joining a gym. It is owned by Konami of video game(DDR) fame, and is aptly named Konami Sports Club. It is a really good deal for me because I work out with my roommate who is a former minor-league soccer player who used to also be a personal trainer. So I provide him with a spot and he provides me with much needed management. Anyhow, this does actually have a point. This place also has aerobics classes on the 4th floor. But rather than just going to the aerobics class and doing it, the people in the class get there about an hour early and practice the dance-like routine. So at any given time, standing in the middle of the gym there will be some Japanese man or woman spinning and bouncing as though to music that no one else can here. That and the outfits crack me up. It was very difficult for me to find clothes. Not because I am so big here, but because I don't want to wear common Japanese work-out clothes. For instance the other day there was a guy at the gym who was wearing a tight fitting t-shirt with a pair of tight spandex, well, I guess you would call them shorts, but they were closer to speedos. This little guy, was mainly there trying to mack on the ladies (unsuccessfully), but occaisionally he would attempt to lift some of the smaller weights. So anyhow, this is getting long, but most men wear spandex, and most women wear long loose fitting shorts. Hey, wa' happened! Oh well, I suppose its only fair. Except to me because I have to see these guys, and it isn't pretty.

That is all for me, for now. I am shore your eyes are beginning to become strained from sitting through this long thing, and I thank you as always for sticking it out to the bitter end. Goodnight (mourning U.S.).