Foxy's Here

I so wanted this post to be about a movie. I had hoped, somehow that I would take my mother-in-law to the video shop and she would pick out some obscure Japanese gem that I'd seen on the shelf a hundred times but never bothered to watch. We would take it home and it would become my favourite film of that era, or some other qualifier. Alas it was not to be. My mother-in-law was determined to avoid anything Japanese during her visit.
They arrived last Friday. Sissy and I picked them up from the airport. I welcomed them back, and did you have a nice flight and all that. Ali simply said, "I want a rice cooker". Ali is no nonsense. I pitched my new movie idea to her, but she said it wouldn't get greenlit. She said it didn't have an ending, or at least a good one. Granted, I've only come up with a rough outline so far, but if I go ahead with this one, I'm gonna make sure I get in with the right people this time.

We dropped her mum in Manhattan with both her suitcases - the one with her clothes and the empty one, and went back to Newark. Foxy made it known right from the start that she doesn't do cribs, so she slept in the bed with Ali for a few days and I stayed on the settee. Finally, I realized that I could dismantle the crib and Foxy could sleep on the floor. On Tuesday night I came home from Costco with a rice cooker, and took apart the crib. Now Foxy is happy - happy as a bug on a rug, literally.

Monday night I was supposed to go to Costco, but I had a rare moment of forgetfulness and went straight home. I wanted to see my baby. It's a good thing too, because I wasn't even through my second bite of chijimi when I noticed a message on the machine. It was Ali:

Can you come and get us? We are in Bayou... at the Walgreen's. We'll be ready in forty-five minutes.

What? I checked the call display. 243. She was in Bayonne, and luckily there's only one Walgreen's in Bayonne. Why she couldn't go to the regular Walgreen's I didn't understand. The time stamp was 5:57, I checked my watch. The call was only a few minutes old. I scarfed down the rest of the pancake and grabbed my keys. When I finally got to Bayonne, sure enough they were in front of Walgreen's. She explained on the ride home that the cab driver didn't understand her when she asked to go to Walgreen's, but eventually figured it out but took her to the one in Bayonne instead.

Wednesday night, I was the last one to leave the office and the boss had given me the wrong instructions for the alarm. The key-lock is one of those ass-backwards kinds, and the security code is very similar to OP's address. All these details led to me not clearing the area before the timer reached zero. My ear drums were assaulted and I couldn't breathe for a few seconds - like when I jumped out of an airplane. Sometimes I forget to breathe. Luckily, my boss was next door so I only had to go get him to come back and turn off the squeaker. By the time I got down two flights of stairs and out the door the security guards were already there. Hallowe'en, right? My face was red. My boss fixed everything and the security guards went on their merry way.

Thursday, Bobby took us out for Korean food, Ali's mum's favourite. Foxy was such a good baby except for the time when Bobby jammed Foxy's head against a picture frame with a pronounced upswing. After her cry, she went right to sleep so it was a good thing. By the time my mother-in-law left the next day, she was toting two very full, heavy cases. When Ali told me that her mum and dad were already planning their next trip, I joked that they should come during Fashion Week next time. I think her mum might bring more than one empty case next time.

So my baby has Richie Rich legs. Which is a little weird because when she wears tights, she looks like the general image of the Mother Goose character Humpty Dumpty. I laugh and I laugh at my Humpty Dumpty baby which makes her laugh and laugh at whatever five-month old babies laugh at. Randy and his fiancée came by today and gave Foxy some baby Uggs. We haven't quite figured out quite how to put them on her yet. It's a good thing I clipped her nails today. That's a first. And by the looks of her toes, it was a first for her too. My mum always told me you're supposed to bite a baby's nails off, and I did that for one of Foxy's thumbs in Japan, but Ali is already using scissors on Foxy. One of her toenails was approaching the definition of a claw, so I'm glad I cut that one. I'm also getting quite good at changing diapers. Actually, it's only a half-change because I get a fresh canvas so to speak. Foxy comes straight out of the bath so I don't have to deal with any messy wipes or nutella-filled nappies or anything. I just learned how to get her to stop crying by holding her. She likes to be a little off-centre and below the shoulder but I have to do quad stretches at the same time. I guess she likes the up and down pogo action. She doesn't like to stand still. She is so my daughter.

Hello Ms. Bank Manager!

Things are running along smoothly at the office, and I can feel things are about to take off. We just gotta be ready for it. To that end, the boss and I went to the bank today to put my name on all the required paperwork and make it official. It was a nice expectation, but like a lot of things in life it ended up being a bit anticlimactic. We were late, bank manager lady was late. I expected her to grill the boss and me about the business and credit facilities and all that stuff, but it was really a piece of cake. We handed over old bank cards and 2 pieces of ID each and she klikklaked on her keyboard for awhile - and there we are. While we waited, the boss and I discussed Ali's green card process and he gave his two cents. At some point I realized I could see right down bank manager lady's shirt. She had perhaps one too many buttons out and even though the office attire is casual, I felt it was a little too casual. Honestly, I just kept telling myself to be glad that I deal with a different bank. Like better-dressed bank staff make better money managers. Do they? Personally, I have very little affection for this bank. Of all the banks... the company chose this one. Oh well, I'm just happy it's not my money. That is of course no reflection of my new friend at the bank. She's fairly nice, and hey she can't be all that bad - she has a cowboy hat in her office.

Pass the Purple Juice

Aaaahhhh, tell me it's not all worth it when you see this face. Actually, she's a very cranky girl. You know sometimes when you deal with heaps of shit over and over again, and then there's a big uptick? I'm in the middle of the biggest uptick since this pasty white boy caroused around Puerto Vallarta - only this time it's alcohol free.

Not only do I work for perhaps the world's best company, I was catching up on some paperwork for Ali's green card and I discovered that my old recruiter owes me about $700.00. Maybe now I can pay for those shirts... I also received a rather large package from Café Press. I had assumed that this package would never find a home because that's what Café Press told me and I got all my money back, but now I have a bunch of outfits for Foxy to wear. I'm still not going back to Café Press, the cocksuckers! Really though, I am thankful that they sent me the stuff after all.

There's so much going right right now, but I probably shouldn't brag too much. I love my job. I'm getting my recruiter a really nice gift for Hanukkah, and my old recruiter will probably get a little something for Christmas if he ponies up the dosh. Working in Canal Street isn't for everyone, but it's certainly for me. One of my bosses had to pry me away from my desk today. I actually enjoy working overtime for these guys and not getting paid for it. I'm a salaryman again. I have to bear the brunt of many jokes from Ali, but I'm glad to be finished with temping so I don't care. On the way home last night, my other boss walked a ways with me. He was surprised to learn that I take the train in everyday.

"I thought you lived in the Village", he said quickly trying to dodge the rain. I don't know where he got that idea, but I think he got it because I may have skewed slightly gay in the interview. My impeccable dress sense throws a few people off. I've been told that I can tone it down a little around the office. Fine by me, extra beauty sleep. All the Japanese chicks in the company can't wait to meet Ali and Foxy. I'm sure that some of them probably already know Ali. The world is proving to be quite small.

About Bloody Time!

Two more weeks, and it'll be the floor of my flat you see in these videos. Ali and Foxy are coming and I can't wait. By the way, can you hear that little exclamation at about 19 seconds in, right before the baby drops her head? This is about as much sound as Ali makes when she sees a problem. It could be the baby dropping it's head. Or it could be a dump truck about to t-bone your Jeep. The level of urgency doesn't matter, the sound is the same. It's just one of those things. And of course, even thought it's a little sound, Foxy senses that Ali is stressed so she starts to cry. My baby isn't stupid. Ali can be so mean to Foxy, she calls her a turtle because she can't move as quickly as some people might like. But she's mean in a loving way.

I finally started working again, and this time it's for real. Temping is for suckers! Ali couldn't be happier. Maybe now she'll stop sending me photos of a sad Foxy every day with captions like "I do not wants to starve" and stuff like that. This job rocks: no dragon ladies, just really upbeat go-getters. People always tell me I shouldn't get too excited about jobs, but this is the kind of job I've been waiting a long time for. I nearly went broke waiting for this one, so I'm super happy that I got it. When the time is right, I'm hoping to buy in. I can't say for sure, but I think Ali had a lot to do with me getting this job.

I would go out tonight and get stupid, but after what happened last time, I've reconsidered. I'm babysitting tonight. Uh huh. I popped by Orange Peel's and J's last night and helped them put their new bed frame together, and helped myself to a plate of enchiladas. Luckily, J had all the right tools to put the bed together. I thought I'd help them out a little bit more, and agreed to babysit for those two while they attend a friend's function. I've got to get a little bit of practice in before Foxy gets here anyway.

Last week, Bobby threw a bit of a party and for once he didn't ask me to serve drinks. He said it was family and friends only which meant that it wasn't a client party with canapés and champagne, and which meant I wasn't getting paid. I brought a bottle of Fat Bastard chardonnay for sharesies, but there was already so much on hand that nobody tried my grape except me, and Bobby actually sent me home with another bottle altogether. Bobby only drinks reds apparently. Who knew? Anyway, the Fat Bastard was nothing to write home about.

Even though it wasn't a client party, Bobby did ask about my former CEO. The ringmaster at the last place I worked drives a Maserati and is good friends with Bobby. He takes his Mazzer to Bobby for service and they are part of some club together. The CEO was actually a really nice guy, so I didn't mind when Bobby brought it up. He said that the guy was surprised to hear that I'd been let go, and felt bad that he never got a chance to wish me luck personally. No hard feelings. That guy was awesome to work for. Unfortunately he let someone else run the accounting department.

One more thing that seems to be going my way: The tailor is running late on my order. I called just to see what's up, only because I don't want another Café Press incident on my hands, and he was so apologetic. I told him not to worry. As long as it doesn't take too long, everything will be fine. I know what's taking them so long. It's kinda my fault for ordering special collars. I feel a little stupid now about spending all that money on suits and stuff because at the new new job, it's pretty casual but I don't think I could get away with wearing my lemon capris.

Happy Wife, Happy Life!

Randy and I went to see The Heartbreak Kid Thursday night, and it was pretty good. When I first heard the title, I thought to myself "Isn't there already a film with that name?" Indeed there is. Charles Grodin and Cybill Shepherd were in the 1972 version. I have a few issues with this film, mainly to do with the television promos. Number 1: In the first-run ad, we see a clip in which Lila (Malin Akerman) sings along to music - one of those songs being performed by Daft Punk. Was that in the movie? No. The song was cut. I was disappointed. Two other bits in the television promos include the moment when Eddie (Ben Stiller) is confronted by his wife in the hotel room wearing a mud mask. In the promo, Eddie can be heard letting out a little scream. In the movie? Nope. And again, Uncle Tito (Carlos Mencia) a.k.a Ned Holness is spliced together in the promo saying something like "She's loco" and "I can get you back to California". Right there, any Spanish speaker would know that "She's loco" is incorrect, but I just attributed that to Carlos Mencia's being about as Latino as a Taco Bell in Barrow, Alaska. The correct verbiage would have been "She's loca", and as it turns out that's not what he said at all. The actual lines were spliced together, taken out of context, and slightly less funny than in the promo. To top it off, in the most recent promo an anonymous reviewer was quoted as saying "Ben Stiller's Best Movie". Hello? Dodgeball?

Now a lot of people have been mentioning There's Something About Mary when they talk about this film, and there are a few noticeable similarities - noticeable in a geek way. Such as the mariachi band. I believe there was a pair of wandering musicians in the Cameron Diaz film. And there was old Miguel. He played a smaller role, but I think he was supposed to be like Magda, the roommate in the Cameron Diaz movie. Heavy maquillage on her I might add. There's also a cock-eyed guy who briefly appears in The Heartbreak Kid whom I've seen before and I'm pretty sure it was in There's Something About Mary, but I'm not 100 percent sure.

A couple of more things that kind of bothered me, well just one actually. We were at a free advance screening of the film - contest winners only and all that. There was a couple in the row behind us who saw fit to bring their toddler along. Don't get me wrong, the kid was extremely well behaved but I'm pretty sure she will be scarred for life given some of the things she was forced to see and hear. Female nudity aside, because there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, there was very strong language and raunchy sex scenes. Worst of all, one of the sex scenes was violent. Not a rape or anything, but one of those scenes where your partner wants you to punch them in the face and stuff. Some people like that. If you want to know what you're getting yourself into before you actually see the movie, you can check out Wheelchair Rebecca by Roy T. Wood at Atom Films for an example of this kink. Amusingly, while the video loads I got to see a promo for The Heartbreak Kid. Definitely not for kids.

So the movie didn't start properly. There was a problem with the projector, and sadly an usher decided to get up on stage and take questions from the audience. Somebody asked him to tell jokes. Given that it was an R-rated audience, I guess he felt comfortable coming back with The Aristocrats. Randy and I just kinda looked at each other like we couldn't believe our luck. Anyway, this kid riffed on the joke for like five minutes but unfortunately it wasn't long enough. The projector still wasn't fixed. Randy went to get some sodas and I sat there playing with my broken tooth. I got a chinese takeaway last week and bit down on something hard while I had a mouthful of rice. I knew exactly what it was, but it didn't hurt and I couldn't feel where it had broken off. It took me six days to notice it, and that was the day we went to the cinema. I had to play with it. I checked it in the mirror to make sure there was no cavity. I noticed that it was one of the teeth that had a gold filling. At some point during the previous six-day period, I shit gold and didn't even notice. Anyway, when I get insurance again I'll go see the Gouger and get it looked at. My dentist is called the Gouger by his colleagues, not because he isn't particularly artful but because he knows how to whip an insurance plan.

I just had an emergency call from Randy because he needs someone to sort the Cuban situation, so we'll take a brief intermission and resume the post in a few hours. It's already late anyway.

Okay, so the Cubans want me to call back on Monday, when the social director at the resort is back. Good for me, not good for Randy. Oh well. Back to the movie: The movie is about a guy who can't seem to find the right girl but is still good friends with his ex, so good in fact that he goes to her wedding and gets seated at the kids' table. This is kind of important. On the way home from the wedding he meets a girl who has just had her purse stolen and in an attempt to keep her in San Francisco he asks her to marry him. She says yes and they take a honeymoon in Cancún, where there also happens to be two boys from the kids' table. Eddie had previously told the boys that his wife had been murdered with an ice pick, so they were curious to see this guy in Mexico with a woman, especially since they had already pegged him for a gay. Eddie meets Miranda (Michelle Monaghan) whose at the resort for a family reunion. I should just add right now that Michelle Monaghan is the only person who looks better in a bikini than Ali. Lila stays in the hotel room after contracting a really bad case of sunburn. Again, a bit of a parallel to the other movie: Lila's skin condition and Dom Woganowski's skin condition. Eddie pretty much has free reign at the resort. Miranda's family thinks that Eddie is a pornographer, and at the end of an afternoon of tequila-fueled trivia games in the back of a Unimog, the boys from the kids' table inform her family that Eddie is a widower. I assume that they were playing drinking games, because that's what all the Gringoes do in the back of big yellow Unimogs. Good times. When I did it, I found that I speak Dutch pretty damn well, but tequila is a key requirement. So now Miranda's family is really suspicious of Eddie, the gallivanting widower. Eddie makes up all kinds of stories to get away from Lila, and makes one up about a supplier rep whose name is "Six Toe". He murders the lie, by making it worse and explaining that the guy has actually improved his golf game by losing six toes to frost bite. I wasn't laughing, partly because Sixto is an actual Spanish name, and there is no reason to make up such a story but mainly because I used to have a gym teacher who lost his toes to frost bite. Everyone knows that the second and the fifth toes are needed to maintain balance and thus have an improved golf game, not the first and fifth toes as Eddie tried to explain to Lila. My teacher, on the other hand had lost all the toes on one foot and walked with a heavy step on that side. Sexist bastard.

Uncle Tito totally reminded me of Jorge, the diving instructor we had in Mexico. Uncle Tito acted totally inappropriately with Lila, and Jorge totally groped Sissy and the totally hot girls from Singapore during the diving lessons - and then later grabbed a totally drunk Sissy and laid one on her as she teetered her way back to the pool deck from the toilets. Sorry if you're learning this for the first time Enzo, it's not a big deal.

Eventually, as Eddie is trying to break it off with Lila, Miranda's cousins catch him and the truth is outed. Lila thinks that Eddie is moving to Rotterdam with her, and Miranda is so disgusted by Eddie that in an attempt to flee his grasp she falls over a retaining wall and into the ocean. Eddie jumps in after her and helps her to the beach, all accompanied by the music of the mariachi band. Eddie feels that something isn't right as Miranda notices a large jellyfish on Eddie's back. She pries it off with a stick, and Lila who is at the beach by now forces Eddie into the sand and pulls up her skirt and pees on the jellyfish burn. That's something else I've noticed from the Farrelly's - little forgettable details are brought back later in the film at the height of the action (notice I didn't say hilarity) to maximize the effect. Earlier in the film, Lila questions Eddie about her pubic hair and her "kitty ring". At this point, the audience is treated to a shot of hair growth that would make my wax guy cry, and a piercing. I believe that toward the end of There's Something About Mary, there was a similar gag involving Magda, played by Lin Shaye. Shawn Michaels, the "Heartbreak Kid" allegedly makes an appearance in this film, but it must have been quick because I missed it. He got credit, so perhaps his scenes fell on the cutting room floor but neither I nor Randy saw him.

What Makes a Woman Cry?

The answer can be quite simple when it refers to a normal, average woman but when it refers to Ali, it's not. Things that make Ali cry are things like Totoro or anything by Studio Ghibli. And when her dog came back home. Not when it ran away the other day, but when the myopic, ill-mannered tick resort managed to find it's way home again she cried.

I don't think I cried when my mum sent my puppy to the pound. I got angry and demanded that my mum give me five bucks, the original cost of the puppy that she actually paid for in the first place. I think I even got another five bucks a few years later when I claimed she never paid me in the first place.

It's not even Ali's stupid dog. It's her sister's dog, but when it started to behave more like a dog and less like a puppy, the sister gave up on it. Ali, her parents and Genya Number Two have taken care of the dog the whole time so I suppose there might be some sort of emotional attachment. For all I know, she's bringing the dog with her when she gets her green card. It's actually a good dog, it just doesn't know better. If I liked dogs and they could wash themselves, it's the type of dog I would want.

Anyway, I just thought it was strange that she cried after he came back, not when he left in the first place. I got a free pass to go see The Heartbreak Kid on Thursday, and as usual I'm gonna take Randy. Maybe it'll give him something to consider about his own marriage. Actually, if he's in Cuba getting married and I'm in Cuba making sure he gets married then who will look after his cat? These are the questions that keep me awake at night. That, and when will that rash clear up?

The Heartbreak Kid stars Ben Stiller, Jerry Stiller, joke stealer Carlos Mencia and my personal favourite Sean Michaels as himself. It also stars a bunch of other people I don't know, and is directed by brothers Bobby and Peter Farrelly. This pair usually do zany movies that are good for a cheap laugh, but I'm hoping for a little more with Ben Stiller. We'll see how it goes.

After going over and over Ali's arrival plans, I recently discovered that her mum will be staying for a week only, and for four of those days, she's booked herself a room at the St. Regis using my credit card. Now I remember what she said at the wedding. I thought it was a welcome, I guess it was more of a warning: "You marry my daughter, you marry my family". So she got what she wanted - a son and a (much) better vantage point to shop from in Midtown. I'm so trusting. Less than a month away... I can't wait! Foxy is so cute.

Finally

I've been out of action for the last little while, partly because I've been looking for a new job but also because I'm still a little bit in shock after learning that Fuckstress and Fireangel are the same person. I had an inkling, but I wanted to believe that they were two different people.

Anyway, I haven't been to see any new movies lately, although I did go to see The Animation Show by Mike Judge and Don Hertzfeldt at one of those "members only" theatres with some friends after a potluck. I brought rugelach. The shorts were all well done, my favourite was Rabbit by Run Wrake only because there was a brown bunny that used to hop around the parking lot at my old job, and I saw the film the day after I got fired. The above photo reminds me of No Neck Joe, a character by Craig McCracken featured in the old Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Festival of Animation. Good times.

After months of anticipation, Ali has finally set a date for her and Foxy to come to New Jersey, permanent like. Sometime toward the end of October, they will be coming with Mrs. K. and she is not happy about it. She would rather be staying in Manhattan where there are more shops to visit. We made concession after concession: At one point she was going to stay with Genya, but that wasn't practical. Eventually, she agreed to stay in Newark with Ali and me, as long as she got the master bedroom. So I'll be roughing it in the den, just trying to keep out of my mother-in-law's way. At least Foxy will be here before Thanksgiving.

Some weeks ago, I happened to mention to Ali that I didn't care how much the tickets cost, as long as she got here as soon as possible. Well, she decided not to come as soon as possible but still book three first class tickets (1 round trip). I know that was not a miscommunication. I probably should have made myself a little more clear. Too late now, she had my credit card number.

I got Foxy to watch me on Skype today. Actually, I got her to watch Pooh Bear on Skype today. Apparently, she knows about Pooh and likes to watch the funny man shake a Pooh Bear rattle in front of the camera. At least I think she liked it, she definitely paid attention to it - the rattle, not the funny man.

Foxy's Changes

Today I went to the local fire station to have Foxy's babyseat checked. I was a day early for the workshop. I have a problem with dates, not dates in general but today's date. It has something to do with my line of work. Nobody cares about what's happening now, they only care what happened before or what's going to happen later.

And this is why firefighters rock: One of them checked the seat over. He couldn't actually certify it, but the fact that he took time out of his day to do me a favour really made my day. He actually told me that I should have got a better seat, and then told me where I could get the same one he got for his kid. But he also said that when my seat is installed properly, it will be totally legal.

I went to the place that he mentioned because I had to get some storage bins anyway, and I found the seat on sale just like he said. The only seat your child will ever need - it's a dual-facing seat that will accomodate the child as an infant, toddler, tyke and whatever you call a nine-year old. It claims to be the only seat approved for airplanes, which might make Ali happy, BUT there is no carry seat. NO SALE! When Foxy is old enough to walk, I'll consider it. I'm a little tapped after a trip to IKEA yesterday. Ironically, everything I bought yesterday was completely free according to my bank, but before I ran out and bought some lottery tickets I took the more prudent stance and assumed the worst. My debit card had been skimmed. Of course nobody can get to the bottom of this until at least Monday. I'm trying to put my trust in Customer Service, but I'll have to continue due diligence and follow up tomorrow. Right now, I could be buying a Bentley and I'll never get to see it. Patience....

Cue the photos: After many, many requests for photos of Foxy, Kohei finally sent me a disc with all the photos he's taken since I left Tokyo. It occurred to me that I could put up some photos to show how much Foxy has grown and changed since she was born. It's been quite the ordeal for her so far, at least two earthquakes and last week a typhoon. Just for reference, we'll start with a photo of her when she was born - after they cleaned off all the icky bits:




















And here's one taken the day after I left. Yes, she had a bit of an acne problem:















And here's one two weeks later:















And then about a week after that:















Two weeks after that one:















And this one was taken the next day. It's been retouched because Grandpa Kohei doesn't understand about camera flash and babies' eyes. From day one, he's been using a high powered flash for all of Foxy's photos and some of them have red-eye. He retouched this one:















And this one a week later:















And this one almost a week after that:















A day later. Foxy was so tired after a day of taking over the world:















A couple days more:















And then a week after that:















It doesn't seem like a lot of change going on, but when you compare the first and last side by side...

I'm a Cat Person

I love cats. Dogs? Meh. Cats are better at cleaning up after themselves, and they stink way, way less. The little fuckers die though, and that's harsh. So when Randy called last week and asked me to look after his little fuzz ball of love, I was more than happy to do it. Nevermind that I already had a full Sunday planned and the opportunity for a rather expensive practical joke now presented itself.

Saturday I was down in Canal St. on my quadrennial outing to visit the tailor for a fitting. We settled on five very nice shirts that will be ready the first week of October, and I told him NOT to make any allowances for my muffin top, though we did joke a bit about girdles. I needed motivation to get in shape and this was as good a reason as any. So that pretty much ate up my Saturday afternoon. One afternoon just on shirts, I was a little behind schedule given that it was holiday hours.

I had to go back the next day to the suit shop, and even though somebody had generously plugged the meter for me, I cursed every minute I was in there that I hadn't let Kohei buy me a suit in Akihabara like he had offered. After comparing different trousers, and perceiving that the salesman was a little uppity, I took the trousers into the dressing room as he waltzed across the store to fetch the nice pin stripe I had eyed on Saturday. He got about half distance when he loudly inquired, "You're about a thirty-four, correct?" I wanted to play smashy smash with my head and the mirror, but instead I muttered, "Bloody bastard", and congratulated him on his powers of perception. It's a bit of a sensitive issue right now. He chalked me up and decided to give me a discount because he didn't like the quality of the cloth. The cheek! Trying to fob inferior quality trousers off on me. He back tracked quite heavily and said that these were perhaps the finest quality trouser by that marque in all of New York City. Hey, I'm no hard ass and a discount is a discount so I let it be.

As we moved onto the suit, I tried on several different ones because I wasn't exactly sure I remembered what I saw on Saturday and the salesman was a different guy. I think he tried to up sell me. He brought out a natty English number that was a little more fitted and had a really sexy inner lining but I got out of it by showing disdain at the lack of a third button. We went back to the original suit. He took it in at the sides and he had a sale. I'm pretty sure that's the one I saw on Saturday. Too late now, it's been chalked and paid for. What I really wanted actually was the suit that Bobby wore to my wedding, but it probably only looks good on him. About a thousand bucks later and all I got to leave the store with was a pair of socks. That's why it's only once every four years (or more). On the way out of the shop I noticed a nice little lemony seersucker jacket, but the salesman saved my wallet any further damage by quickly mentioning that it was a size 38. I was a size 38 once - at my freshman mixer in high school! I took my socks and walked out.

Oh okay, right. The cat. So I was in Canal St. and I had to get over to Randy's place which is so not near Canal. But first I had a stop to make. I called a model friend of mine and talked her into helping me pull a practical joke. I said it would boost her portfolio, and I'm surprised she bought it. Honestly, though I had fully intended to hand over the digital copies of any and all photographs taken that afternoon. We had the cameras, the nasty props and the photo processing place was on stand-by. We got to Park Slope and got inside alright. Randy had warned me that I might have a problem with his upstairs neighbour, but not a peep. I had my cameras ready, and that's when I noticed the six pack of Red Stripe on the kitchen table, warm as beer should be, and a thank you note. I couldn't do it, the practical joke was off.

Originally Marisol, a vision from Puerto Rico had agreed to make herself very at home and I was going to get a little personal with Randy's stuff, and we were going to leave behind photos. Oh, and feed the cat and whatnot. But the case of Red Stripe technically made it a contract - though the thank you note might indicate that the beer was in fact a gift - and I had to tell Marisol that the gig was off. I was now bound by my sense of agency to carry out the cat wrangling as professionally as possible. I paid Marisol sixty dollars and she waited in the car.

It's been a pretty productive weekend so far: all that and Ali has finished a rough draught of her first immigration form. Pepper had some shmutz so I washed the car and had a nice chat with Danny my gay neighbour. He has a thing about cars, and when he noticed that I was washing Pepper and not Baby, I had to give him the full run down. Double, nay triple gasps when he discovered that I was in fact married and a parent. He laughed hysterically at my Hervé Villechaize joke... at least someone did. We talked about Ali's pending immigration, and the green card issues that a Japanese neighbour had. He made me promise to force Ali to speak English when she gets here, or else she'll be marginalized. I used a very famous line from Dirty Dancing which I won't repeat here because one of the distributors of the film is trying to sue anyone and anything that "profits" from it. My neighbour blanked. I thought for certain that he had seen the movie. Who hasn't?

Here's A Couple More of Foxy Around the House

You can hear Grandpa Kohei laughing in the background because Foxy's got the hiccups from nursing too quickly.

Ali Sings to Foxy

Here's another video. This is all I got because the DVD Ali sent me isn't recognized by my DVD reader. She sent me another care package, but this time all I get to enjoy is the boil-in-the-bag donburi and instant noodles.

I'll probably go to Hell for saying this, but lately every time I see a video of Foxy, I wanna say Hervé Villechaize lives! I know I'm not the only one. Don't worry, in this video, you'll get to hear Ali sing to Foxy. Except that Ali uses Foxy's Japanese name because like 99 percent of the people in Japan, [f] is an impossible phoneme to her. Instead of using the voiceless labiodental fricative [f], they use the voiceless bilabial fricative [Φ]. Savages. So it's like impossible for Ali to say Foxy. Part of the reason I named her that is so that I can get a little chuckle everytime I hear Ali try to say it. The difference between [f] and [Φ] is very subtle, and you don't even notice it unless you watch the speaker's mouth. Ask any Japanese person who isn't fluent in English to say Fuji. Watch their mouths, don't listen to what they say and you'll see what I mean.

Of course, Ali got her revenge by giving Foxy a name that is next to impossible for English speakers to pronounce. Aoi [aoi]. How do you pronounce a name that has no consonants? I've heard one gaijin say it perfectly on the first try. Everyone else, especially those in my family let their Yiddish take over and say something more like "Oy" [oιj]. Or the more gentile members of my family break it down into two syllables and spit out "A-oy" [aʔoιj]. Fascinating stuff!

Sunnys

Foxy got these as a must-have in the searing Tokyo heat and blinding sun. I tried to tell Ali that maybe sunnys for a baby are not such a good thing, but apparently Foxy won't open her eyes outside unless she has her sunglasses.

I'm not so sure it's wise to be filming the baby in Grandpa's overstuffed smoking chair. The thing is probably covered in carcinogens. Yes, I have a fat baby. It's entirely due to the high quality, enriched breast milk that Japan is producing these days. I'm okay with that, and so is Foxy.

Peaches are Sour

Here's a more recent clip of Foxy. As you can see, she has grown a lot since the previous video.

Foxy's Tokyo Debut

I'm so fed up with Blogger's new video upload feature that I've gone ahead and opened a Youtube account to post up a clip I've been waiting two months to do. Blogger and Youtube are owned by the same company. You'd think that Blogger would ask for some help on this instead of dicking around and around. The thing that made me hesitate about Youtube is that I don't want perverts and the like to be embedding my videos on their sites. Oh well, que sera sera.

Any of the more recent videos since I left Japan are on Photobucket, but Blogger in it's infinite wisdom returns an error every time I try to link to the page. Fuckers

Update: It seems that I don't get any more security with Youtube than I had hoped for from Photobucket. The Youtube embedded video stalled or took some ridiculous amount of time to start so I've gone back to the original plan of using Photobucket clips.

Meister Jäger

I don't usually do this, but it was really vivid and kind of funny. I had a really cool dream on Friday night, and I think it had something to do with the fact that I had seven shots of Jägermeister on an empty stomach before going to bed. Or maybe it's got something to do with DMT. I got to pretend to be a potential client and my boss was going to have to get me to sign the contract. I remember quite clearly that I was a tough sell. The best part was that I got to critique her sales pitch. I think that was in the dream because of what happened in the boardroom earlier that day. Not such a crazy dream up to that point, but then it morphed...

Into a street festival, among other things. The Ukrainian Church a few blocks down the street had been overrun and was now a very organized crack dealing operation. But the neighbourhood was actually improved. Just up the street where I saw a corpse shortly after it got hit by a car, a crosswalk was now installed and there was now a pedestrian-only mall with an arcade kinda like they have in Japan. There was a nice glass-fronted drug store on the corner where the hardware store used to be and before that it was a hair salon, except it's never been any of those things in real life - it's always been a pawn shop. And the community police station across the street from the pawn shop was something else in the dream too.

This is how weird my dreams get. Maybe not the fact that they are so intricate, but the fact that I can remember all this stuff even when I'm awake. Back to the street festival. Two hippies from Nascimiento Brazil came up to me and told me that they wanted to write me a poem. Tudo bem was my response, and they asked me how I knew Portuguese. I told them how, and introduced them to Bobby and Sissy. These guys were so impressed that Bobby and I were twins they decided to make the poem very special for the both of us.

Cut to Grandma Tzipi's old condo in Rio de Janeiro. Grandma Tzipi figured Miami was a little too passé, so she went one step better and bought a home away from home in Rio. I still remember it, back when they made condos big enough to live in. There was the telltale sunflower shag carpet, and the tangerine formica countertops in the loo. It was here that the two hippies decided to reveal the poem. Everybody was there, including my new boss. More on her later. The hippies apparently found paper and pen to be rather limiting, so when they brought out a bus tray filled with water and floating blocks nobody was surprised. One hippie held the tray while the other read what was on the blocks and tipped them over as the lines continued to the other side of the dice blocks. I don't remember what the poem said, but I do remember that the hippies had written a symbol on one of the blocks which they said meant lol, and that the audience was supposed to laugh out loud.

My new boss, my dream boss that is, not my real one is quite a bit younger than me and for some reason I had to know her age. In real life, I'm not bothered about having a younger boss but I guess on a subconscious level maybe the opposite is true. Anyway, we played the age game. She guessed mine and got it right. I totally overguessed her age, and then underguessed it. I had lots of questions for my new boss, like why the person I replaced still gets to use a company cell phone, but I don't. Then something weird happened at Grandma Tzipi's condo. I'm not even sure what you call it, but I think it's something that happens at a bachelor party. It wasn't a lap dance, I think those are pretty straightforward, but my new boss was acting totally inappropriate especially since she knew I was married and my wedding band was in plain sight. How did a poetry reading turn into a bachelor party? Why are these things happening in your dead grandmother's beachfront condo? These questions might sound weird, but not necessarily disturbing. But how about that Sissy was there? Why is Sissy in your dreams Dax, watching you do bachelor party type stuff? Why is she constantly telling you about Ali? Because she's my conscience. It took me a few minutes to figure that stuff out after I woke up, but if you think about it, that's pretty cool. Knowing that there's always going to be somebody looking out for you, even though you hate it, it's pretty cool.

There was a bunch more messed up stuff in the dream too like the fact that I had a broken leg and had to drag myself around the neighbourhood on chucks. That might have something to do with the corpse I saw. There was other stuff like the time of day. At some point the street festival turned from day to night. And there was something about latchkey kids too but I can't that stuff into the narrative.

¿Qué?

I have to say that my new job is a welcome change in some respects and a baptism by fire in other respects. I started last Friday, and had a half day so that I could meet the people I'll be working with. That was actually a special request on their part because someone was going on hols starting Saturday. It was pretty much a waste of time. Half the company was already on holidays, and I would have been better off starting on Monday after everyone, except that one person, had come back.

My boss, who was described to me by the recruiter as a dragon lady, is nothing of the sort. I was a little disappointed (because I like dragon ladies so so much!), but she still expects me to work my butt off. She has a tendency to digress, so we spent pretty much all of Friday afternoon talking in her office.

Monday, I met the person I am replacing. She couldn't handle more than two months of the work, so she quit. She spent half of Monday not explaining things to me because she never learned how to do them herself. Tuesday I was all on my own except that I got to spend a little time with my supervisor. Probably too much time by the way he acted. He only works 4 days a week, so I'm pretty much on my own on Fridays. That's bitten me in the ass once already. My supervisor has only been on the job for 3 months, so he's not quite crisp yet but he has a prior history with the boss. They used to work together at another company. My supervisor believes that he has a very strong moral compass, which has forced him to two jobs before ending up with the old boss again. That may have led him to quit one the jobs, but it sounds to me that he quit the second job on account of laziness. With a really thick Hong Kong Cantonese accent, he explained to me that he quit his last job because he didn't want to serve as a payroll back up. He basically told his boss to find someone else. Nice try! He's so hard to understand that we basically take twice as long to get anything done than if I did everything myself.

Wednesday, my boss thought it would be funny to speak to me privately in her office. I fully expected to get the axe, because this was so important that this couldn't be discussed at my cubicle, directly opposite the coffee machine and right next to the photocopier. She wanted to discuss my job scrip. She asked me if I would be willing to do switchboard relief for no rise in pay. The cute little smile on her face was the only thing preventing me from jumping across her desk and ripping out her pixie cut one hair at a time. Why would you take time out of your very important day to arrange a special meeting with the temp just so you can ask him to answer a few phone calls? Aiyah!

Thursday was the day that I caught up on some old billing. I think I did pretty well, except that rather than look over the entire oeuvre my supervisor would only find the first mistake and bring it back to me to do over. See, the English language is a pain in his ass. He'd really rather someone else did the reading for him. I am in fact the only native English speaker in the Finance Department. Which came back quite oddly the next day to bite me in the ass. What's new? But I still haven't finished with Thursday. The point is that rather than correct all the problems at once, I had to do the invoice over like eight times. At the end of the day I figured I'd spend a little overtime to catch up on some of the stuff that had just come across my desk. My boss came by to use the photo copier and said, "You still here? You got to go home. You really got to go!" Some slave driver. Until the HR manager gets back, they can't sign me to a contract so they've got me on an hourly rate. She wants to save a few bucks and keep the overtime until after I sign the contract. We understand each other on that point, and she's very open about the fact that she'll work me like a dog after Labour Day.

Onto Friday. I arrived that morning to a nice little note on my desk from my manager saying that she wanted to speak to me about the invoices I had prepared the day before. Later on, when she had time we talked about the things she didn't like. She mentioned that the invoices are supposed to be very specific about what we are billing, and I knew that. In fact, that's exactly how I had prepared the invoices the first time, but my supervisor had told me specifically NOT to prepare this batch of invoices in that manner. I explained to her what had happened the day before, and then she asked me if I had received an e-mail from my supervisor. I did receive an e-mail about pay stubs from my supervisor. She asked me to read it again. Nothing in the header about revised invoices. Way way down deep somewhere near the bottom of the e-mail was a little note about the invoices. Either my supervisor is a complete idiot, or he did that on purpose. I'm new, so I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. That means he's a complete idiot. We'll have something to talk about tomorrow. Then my manager talked about some other bullshit that quite frankly should be the project manager's problem, but apparently I have to check that shit too.

I set about correcting the invoices, when my boss came to be about ten minutes later in a panic. Why she came to me I'll never know. As I said, there are quite a few different languages spoken in my department. At any given point on Friday there were two native Spanish speakers, plus a guy who had spent several years in Latin America and spoke Spanish pretty well. She could have gone to them, and they had even offered to help, but instead she requested my assistance with a conference call. I had no background on the situation, and my boss clearly had no idea what the difference between translating and interpreting is, nor an understanding of what was required to handle an interpretation by conference call. We got through it, and it was brutal, but then she decided to rip me a new one. Maybe she smelled blood, because she only did so after someone else tried to get their pound of flesh. I really didn't appreciate the way she acted. After we left the boardroom, she apologized for putting me on the spot like that and admitted that the guy who tried to make me cry had no business doing that. The rest of the day went pretty well, but I didn't get anything done.

Superbad

If you haven't seen this movie yet, wait for the DVD. Don't get me wrong, it's not one of those movies where you wish you could have 2 hours of your life back. It was funny, I personally guffawed at several points in the film, but there was much repetition. If you like hearing words like cock and pussy needlessly over and over again, then this is a movie for you. Starring Michael Cera and Jonah Hill as Evan and Seth, the two attempt to bootleg alcohol for a party that night. They recruit their friend Fogel, played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse and his fake ID for the task.

Seth and Evan are separated from Fogel and the adventure begins. Seth and Evan take a journey that I can honestly say represents the average teenager's party experience. I myself, not really a party person in highschool, did everything that Seth and Evan did at some point in school, including getting hit by a car. The thing is, they do it all in one night. Fogel's journey is less than realistic, and surely was written as such to add humour to the film. Without it, the film would be just a high-school level Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle. Interestingly enough, David Krumholz makes guest appearances in both movies, each time getting high. Writer Seth Rogen guests in the movie as an idiot rookie cop, and Rogen's dad (I think) makes a quick appearance as an irate parent.

Rogen and co-writer Evan Goldberg claim that they wrote this movie because they felt they could write a better movie than an unnamed movie they watched as teens. I strongly believe that movie to be American Pie. Neither film is a particular standout in terms of originality, but I would say that American Pie was better. If Rogen had said something like "My friend and I were watching a movie and we said to ourselves that we could write a movie like that one, but based on personal experience", I don't think expectations would be so high. Taking one look at Jonah Hill, I forgot that he was supposed to portray Rogen. Instead, I was reminded of Avi, a kid I used to spend summers with in grade school. He was pretty straight laced and he used to cry a lot. Imagining him in the movie having grown up a little during high school to be a tough-acting fake Seth made it even funnier on a personal level.

Interview in My Underwear

It's been so up and down these last few weeks, really the worst roller coaster ride I've ever been on. Had to cancel a trip to an unfriendly nation because I'm not sure I can attend a friend's wedding with my wife when it actually goes down. Last thing I need is for my daughter and me to be detained because we carry the wrong passport. But really, Cuba doesn't care anymore. I know that, but nobody told the State Department. Maybe there was a fair amount of melodrama connected to that. After all, I am meant to be Randy's best man or something, and had left large amounts of blood spatter around the flat the night before. The blood was much darker and stickier than usual. Must be the oranges. Pain is the cleanser! No matter, all my tea towels are red for a reason. Tomorrow, Randy and I are going to see Superbad so maybe we'll be able to discuss a trip to Havana.

The anger is all because of a temp job I started last Tuesday. I really hit it off with my supervisor. My totally hot supervisor, but that's a totally different problem altogether. She worked me like a dog nosebleeds and all, and I did everything she asked me to do and more. Everybody liked me, at least that's what they told my recruiter which is why I was really confused when my supervisor told me to pack my shit on Friday afternoon. She didn't seem too happy about it, and my recruiters were caught totally off guard, but they've been working hard for me. Sometimes you have to smack them around a bit, but they eventually remember that they're supposed to recruit, and find something for me. I know who they work for, but I'm not afraid to push my weight around a bit (all 11 stone of chiseled sun kissed goodness) and make them think they work for me.

You can't help who your parents are, and that might have had something to do with it. There are hundreds of thousands of Hallmans, possibly millions around the world but I guess it is a small world. A certain relative has a reputation in the mining industry, and depending on whom you ask, it's good or bad. To his credit, he told me to quit as soon as he heard where I was rocking the payroll. By the second day, people were nosing around asking if I'm related to so and so. I played coy because that information can be prejudicial. The job was crap anyway, but it threw me for a loop because I did nothing wrong. In fact, I did everything right. Oh well, I'm pretty sure my supervisor was fired shortly after I left.

Which brings me to the interview in my underwear part. Friday afternoon, I ripped my recruiter a new one and happened to stop by his office for an explanation. The slack-jawed gay porn top reject stared vacantly into the distance as his supervisor went into damage control mode and fobbed me off onto another recruiter. The new guy had the perfect job just for me. Because of the client's time constraints, they did not have time to meet in person. This afternoon(!) as I was jumping out of the shower, the phone rang. It was the recruiter:

Recruiter: Dax! Ted! I've been trying to reach you all morning. Do you have a hand phone or something? Where you been man? Partying all night probably, right?

Me: Ummm... Actually...

Ted: Hey listen! Would you be open to a phone interview with the client? They want to wrap this up as soon as they can.

Me: Sure. I've done phone interviews befo...

Ted: Okay! Okay, just a sec. Let me put you on hold and we can conference with the client.

At this point I was still wrapped in a towel, but as the phone played Queens of the Stone Age I threw on some boxers and a form fitting t-shirt my mother-in-law gave me, and wrapped my bloody knuckles in an old Marks and Spencer tea towel. The client threw me some soft ball questions and asked me about my language skills. What that all has to do with payroll is a mystery, but I guess she was just trying to size me up. I was all like, "Hai! It's sooo great to talk with you finally!" Totally fake, or at least that's how I felt. But you want to make the client feel at ease, that way they feel better about eventually paying you a very large sum of money and making your life shit. She was impressed, and if everything works out I'll be back at it again next week. In the meantime, I'll be shifting sheetrock and granite countertops for Enzo and hammering a few nails. It's better than detailing Bobby's Maserati, and Sissy says this is better than bloodletting.

Cops vs. Thugs - Is There a Difference?

I had to watch this one twice and make a chart the second time just to keep up with what was going on. Kinji Fukasaku directs Kenkei tai soshiki boryoku or Cops vs. Thugs in English starring Bunta Sugawara as Detective Kuno and Tatsuo Umemiya as his nemesis Inspector Kaida. Umemiya also starred in Yakuza Graveyard as the yakuza underboss blood brother of the main character. There's a few other characters in the film, but their credits aren't indexed to the characters so it's hard to identify them.

Apparently, this film is based on actual events and that is prehaps the only reason why this film has to be so complicated. It involves three crime organizations: the Ohara organization, the Hirotani organization and the Kawade organization. A city official is tied to the Ohara organization, but while Ohara is in prison the official is making deals with the Kawade organization to help them fix an auction. Tomoyasu the city councilman is not making many friends. The Kawade organization steals some of the club girls who used to work for Hirotani, which starts a bit of a turf war. Det. Kuno is closely tied to Hirotani, a killer who Kuno helped escape several years earlier. The cops in the town generally leave the yakuza alone and focus their efforts on the communists.

After the auction is revealed to have been fixed, the results are overturned and Hirotani is appointed as the trustee of the land. He tries to sell the land for its proper market value, but that doesn't go down well. A new police inspector rides into town and decides that the friendly treatment of the yakuza isn't going to help anyone. He arrests old Ohara and squeezes him to hand over his affairs to the Kawade group. Inspector Kaida decides to vet his squad of any friendlies and an older officer, Yoshiura resigns from the force. He goes to work as a consultant for the city official and pretty much gives away all the Hirotani family secrets. Detective Kuno is a known associate of Hirotani and is scorned by Kaida. When Kaida leads a raid on Hirotani's offices, the friendship between Hirotani and Kuno is ended. Hirotani's men take the consultant Yoshiura hostage and bring the police into a standoff. Kuno goes in and negotiates a deal for the release of Yoshiura and the safe passage of Hirotani's men. As Hirotani is led outside, he pulls a gun on his former friend who trusted him one last time. During a scuffle, Hirotani is shot and killed. Inspector Kaida resigns and gets a job with the company that had the successful bid on the land. Det. Kuno is transferred to a small town and is mysteriously killed while investigating an accident.

The film is a lot more complicated than that, but I can barely keep abreast of what I've written even with an org chart. I take back what I said about the Toei strip logo. I thought the music was part of the strip, but that apparently changes with each film. The visual still kicks ass though. The music in this film was typical, and still nice to listen to. No mouth organ though.

Hot Fuzz and Cheesecake

I think I have a problem with food. I guess the popular term is binging. Two days ago, I ate nothing and exercised like crazy. Gotta be careful about that, I am plagued by nosebleeds when I do stuff like that. As soon as I jump in the shower, the blood flows like the Hudson River. Then yesterday I ate nothing until 7:00 pm when I had a footlong double stacker BBQ rib patty at a well-known sandwich franchise. Today, still looking fit from all the training, I went out and bought a cheesecake. A little perspective on the above photo - it's only 4 inches across, and it was good. It wasn't the brick cheesecake that so many restaurants are guilty of serving, rather it was lighter than I expected. I deserved it I guess, after the day I've had. I was hit with a huge trigger today. My new recruiter is a bit thick. When I first visited her, she had me sign a lot of paperwork. A few weeks later, she called and told me that I hadn't signed the paperwork. I asked her to check again, because I knew that I had because I remember putting the wrong date on the forms. She called back and said that indeed, she had located the missing paperwork but that she had more paperwork for me to fill out. I shlepped across town to sign the papers, and when I get there she acts like she's never met me before and the paperwork turns out to be the exact forms that she said she had found afterall. What could I do? I signed the papers and held my tongue. I will say though,that this type of document management makes a global recruiting firm like Robert Half look very, very bad. Not on the surface of course, but something like that is only indicative of larger, more serious problems.

To make shlepping across town more worthwhile, I loaded some photos onto a disc and popped by a print shop to get some prints made up for my luddite friends who don't have computers. By the bye, when is Blogger going to get it's video feature out of beta? My kid is gonna be like 7 or 8 you know, the ugly stage, by the time that happens and then there won't be any videos worth watching.

Anyway, I'm used to triggers hitting my inebriated brain when I'm in the theatre, but I got hit by a huge one today at the print shop while I was quite sober. I'm going to go on record as saying that Asian girls with freckles drive me crazy. The clerk in the shop looked exactly like an ex-girlfriend except that she had freckles and a better hair stylist, oh and a nicer bum. I was dumbfounded, floating between the past and present. I didn't know what to say when she told me that the disc only showed 4 prints when in fact I had loaded several more. I didn't know how to answer when she asked me what size prints I wanted. As the queue grew longer, she grew more impatient. I just told her to do the standard prints and that I would be back tomorrow to collect the photos. I couldn't see straight at that point, and I stumbled up the escalator holding my ticket stubs, she made me order the prints in separate orders, in a ball and shoved them in my front pocket.

I got to the outside of the mall and waded through a crowd of punks handing out flyers. The only thing that shocked me back to the present was the memory that I had seen my ex-girlfriend at the grocery store a few years ago, and that she could not possibly be the same person in the photo shop. Besides, the clerk wore a name tag that was simply not my ex-girlfriend's name. What made all of this more embarrassing from a personal point of view is the fact that I'm married now, and I probably shouldn't be looking at other women. Who knows what kinds of things are in my head? I don't. Because of a curious incident in the hospital nursery when I was born, my brain hides a whole lot of not-necessarily-fucked-up shit in there and then brings it all back like a flood when I least expect it. For legal reasons, I can't exactly say that I was dropped on my head but something similar did take place. Sweating, and suffering from cotton mouth, I grabbed a bottled water from a street-teamer and decided, perhaps wrongly that I needed more sugar. I walked home and waited for traffic to die down and then made my way to the cheesecake shop. I'll be better prepared when I pick up my photos tomorrow.

Hot Fuzz is a movie that I have been looking very much forward to, and I regret not seeing it in first run. When I was in Japan, I would ask for it every time we went to the video store:

"Nani ga? Hatto Fudge? No, we don't have. Sorry, my English is not so good. Edward Wright? So sorry, no listings for that actor. Director? Still nothing. Ahhhh, Furosto? Yes, we have Nick Furosto but not that movie".

"Edgar! E-D-G-A-R you silly bastard". Of course the real reason they couldn't find it was because it didn't exist on DVD yet.

I got to watch it tonight, and it stars the abovementioned Nick Frost, Simon Pegg and Timothy Dalton. There are guest spots by Bill Nighy and an amazingly well disguised Rafe Spall both of Shaun of the Dead. I had thought that this would be one of those films where you see all the funny bits in the adverts, but it wasn't. There were plenty of other funny bits thrown in. There were promos for Balls of Fury starring Chistopher Walken, Patton Oswalt and James Hong, the crusty old Chinese guy you see in so many movies playing the role of the wise master. He was in one of those Revenge of the Nerds films playing pretty much the same role as the one I saw in the Balls of Fury promo. As I watched the trailer, I thought "This is just another Dodgeball, but with ping pong". That was enough reason for me. I'll have to watch it at some point. The second trailer was for Rush Hour 3 starring Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan. Chan was on David Letterman last week and he was quite candid about the fact that he doesn't like making the Rush Hour films. Okay, when the lead bad mouths the film, should anyone go see it? Interesting question. Somebody will.

As the film opens, we see a very gaunt Simon Pegg in the role of Nick Angel, the Metropolitan police officer who is married to the job. At this point, I am struck by Angel's resemblance to my former supervisor at the brokerage. How things change! I won't say that we're friends, but we get along a lot better now that we don't work together. Angel is promoted to sergeant and is transferred against his wishes to the country where he is partnered with Danny Butterman, played by Nick Frost. The villagers are very conscious of the fact that they have won the Best Village Award several times and they have no intention of giving it up. At first, it seems that nothing happens in this little town, but Angel is not convinced. Something is always going on. Despite assurances from the squad, Angel discovers that all the accidents in the town might be related. He investigates a little further and determines that the grocer played by Timothy Dalton has killed several people to stop competition coming to the village. Rafe Spall plays one of two slacker investigators who spend the entire film making jokes at Angel's and Butterman's expense. Oh yeah, Butterman's dad, played by Jim Broadbent is the police chief of the village. Throughout the film, there are numerous references to Point Break and Bad Boys 2, two films I have never seen but I did catch a dubbed version of Bad Boys in Japan. Angel's theory about the murders is dismissed. After being attacked in his hotel room, Angel gets on the right track, and discovers that the accidents were actually murders carried out by a group of people, and that they had the blessing of the police chief. Angel is taken out of town by Danny Butterman and is encouraged to go back to London. Angel gets a bee in his bonnet and goes back to the village and clears out the evidence locker, which looks more like Enzo's gun armoury. He decides to take on the Neighbourhood Association, the real killers, on his own. You would think it ends there, after he tears apart the Association. That is why I have to say that the movie was humourous, but then gets really stupid for a bit and then gets funny again overall. There are three false endings to the killers and the fourth one finally puts a rest to it all.

There is a lot about this movie that the writers put in there for their own satisfaction, and that probably stopped the film from being better. For instance, when Angel first arrives in the town, he meets the Neighbourhood Association members at various locations. When he comes back to the town at the end of the film, he meets the members at the same locations. This type of in-joke is only for the benefit of the writers, and actually makes a mess of the shootout. Contrived. The music that plays in Skinner's car as he drives past the accident scenes might be funny once, but twice? Come on Edgar. I also did not like the latex dummies used for the decapitation scenes and the explosion. Very cheap. A cop would never believe that these castings were real, and so I had a hard time believing that a fake cop could act as though they were real.

There are a lot of bits in this film which are nods to other films, perhaps suggesting that Edgar Wright does nothing original, or that he's just a big geek. Many scenes in the film were done in the town where Wright went to school. I don't know what you call that, but I found that to be really soft. Kind of a 'Look at me, everyone! This is where I went to school. See this person? He's my acting teacher'. Geez, if Wright wanted so much attention, why didn't he become an actor?

The things I found most interesting about this film were all the things that the set dressors had to deal with, and the stuff done in post. All the CCTV footage had to be added in later, and a lot of the sound effects were very original. Set dressors are very creative people. Maybe they have some guidance from the script, but a lot of what makes the final cut is based on their own ideas. I was also quite impressed by Robert Rodriguez who wrote some of the score for this film, and only got a thankyou in the credits. Oops, nosebleed.

I Don't Remember What Happened

I saw a couple of movies last week and they were pretty good. I remember what I meant to write because I wrote down the details on some vanity post-it notes that my aunt brought back from Hawaii. Sorry, but I'm running out of photos to add to my posts. I've asked that Foxy take less Jabba-the-Huttish photos in the future. Ali is quick to defend the photos, pointing out that the growth charts provided by Kyoto First Red Cross indicate that Foxy's size is only average. Skype Video stills function rocks, but Skype VOIP sucks.

After I watched the films, I went out with Orange Peel and J for an evening of consumption. Stupidly high levels of consumption. After leaving the greek restaurant, we went across the street. I was thinking that we were going to head up Christopher Street to catch the train back to Newark, but I must have been wrong. I stopped to pet these two wolf-cross pups that I recognized from Ali's shop and then quickly realized that I had been separated from OP and J. I panicked. I don't know how far up Chris I got, but I remember losing my footing and going down hard. I scuffed up my wedding band pretty bad, ruined my favourite pair of Mavi's, and took a nasty case of road rash. I remember sitting up and refusing assistance. I didn't want to go to the hospital because I still haven't got insurance.

The next thing I remember is singing a nasty song about security guards in the lift in my building. As I sit here listening to Frank Black's selection on BBC 6 Music's 6 Mix and balancing my chequebook, the paper trail shows quite clearly that I paid for a train ticket. That makes me wonder how gooned I really was. I couldn't have been that far gone because I would have had to remember a PIN and manage to punch it into the keypad without fatfingering it, and then recognize the correct station to get off at. That nasty encounter with the tarmac must have caused temporary memory loss, because there is about an hour's gap that I don't remember. If it was the result of intoxication, then how could I have functioned so well and managed not to get mugged, or worse?

I spent the next few days nursing various scrapes and bruises, feeling a bit like Colin from The Brittas Empire, who by the way had the best Welsh accent going on TV. I will say though, that the best Welsh speaker on the BBC in my opinion is Gruff Rhys from Super Furry Animals. Not that I listen to Radio Cymru or anything. As for OP and J, they left me at the wolf-cross pups, and went into the bar.

I think I have a new favourite director, at least for 1970s Japanese cinema. Kinji Fukasaku directed Batoru rowaiaru and is probably best known to Western audiences for that. He came from the same city, and was born at about the same time as one of Ali's grandfathers, so he can't have been all that bad. I saw Yakuza no hakaba: Kuchinashi no hana or Yakuza Graveyard. I know, the translation makes no sense, but this is only one of the English titles they used. The film stars my favourite Japanese actress Meiko Kaji as a half-Korean wife of a Yakuza leader. While her husband is in prison, possibly getting pearls buried in his bellend, she is in charge of the organization. There has been a recent rise in yakuza activity in the city, which has embarrassed officials so they have decided to crack down on gambling. They recruit Kuroiwa, played by Tetsuya Watari to broker a peace between the rival gangs. Kuroiwa is the clichéd "tough as nails" cop who has been transferred back into his unit after being cleared by internal affairs. He quickly makes friends with Keiko, played by Kaji and starts an affair with her. She doesn't mind, her husband thinks she's a whore already. She gets no respect from the organization because she is not full Japanese, but finds an unexpected ally in one of the underbosses who, although he has lived his entire life in Japan, is full Korean. The underboss makes a pact with Kuroiwa, who is now too far into the organization that he risks dismissal. The underboss is killed, and Kuroiwa feels that he has lost a brother. The cop goes through a series of internal conflicts, but eventually Kuroiwa decides that the yakuza are his real friends and resigns from his job, but not before he wastes two of his superiors who are corrupt. As he walks out of police headquarters, he is gunned down in front of Keiko. I grew up in the 1970s and this is exactly the kind of stuff they used to show on television in shows like Kojak and others. I was right at home watching this and wanted to watch more. Luckily for me, the video shop has plenty of Fukasaku's work for rent.

Now to the post-it notes: I rented Joshuu sasori: Dai-41 zakkyo-bô or Female Convict Scorpion Jailhouse 41, the sequel to Joshuu 701-gô: Sasori. Of course, this stars Meiko Kaji who curiously says nothing until the penultimate scene of the movie. Kaji plays Matsu, the incorrigible prisoner who is chained in a pit in the basement of the prison. She is released into the general population while a dignitary visits. She refuses to bend and during the confusion, her fellow inmates who hate her decide to riot. The riot is quelled, and the inmates are punished. The warden decides that he has to teach a lesson to the inmates so he tries to make an example of Matsu. He sends a group of officers to gang rape her while she is working in a prison quarry. During the ride back to the prison, the other female prisoners attack her, I guess because they hate themselves that much or something. One of the prisoners is convinced that Matsu is dead and persuades the guards to stop the van. As they open the back of the van, the females overpower the males and pretty much flee. One guy is shot to death or choked out and the other bleeds out after the inmates use his crotch as a posthole. Prolific but very unconvincing use of tomato sauce in this scene.

The group of seven inmates manage to find refuge in a shack at a coal mine. There they discover a mysterious old woman who feels that she is cause of the evil things that these inmates have done. A note on the continuity here: They find the woman in a shack that collapses in a windstorm. The next time we see the old lady, the shack has been rebuilt around her. I forget what happens to the old lady, but a police dog flushes out the inmates. They manage to flee to a town where they hide in a workshed. There's a lot of lesbian wrestling in the background in this scene, and they somehow take a hostage. When the police come looking for the hostage, one of the inmates gets shot and bleeds out later under a waterfall as they run from the police. Symbolically, the waterfall turns red. The remaining six inmates encounter a busload of tourists, some of whom chase down one of the girls and gang rape her and accidentally drown her. They toss her over the falls. When the remaining inmates discover her body, the river turns red. They manage to hijack the tour bus and take their inadequate revenge on the three guys who killed their friend. A disagreement occurs between the leader and Matsu, and they toss her out of the bus. They use the bus to negotiate police roadblocks, kinda like that Clint Eastwood movie, but eventually high-centre on the verge. The police send Matsu in to try and convince the inmates to surrender. She goes in, but promises the leader that she's as good as dead. She goes back to the police and tells them that she could do nothing. The chick with the rifle runs out of ammunition and the police take the four remaining inmates into custody.

Somehow, Matsu escapes and hunts down the warden who is preparing to retire in order to exact her revenge. She appears in her trademark black hat, and I totally forget what happened. I think she tries to blind the warden's other eye, or she kills him. Maybe she gets caught, I don't know. As the closing credits roll, the theme song plays, the very same song, and version even that Quentin Tarantino "borrowed" for Kill Bill. Another musical mention: Shunsuke Kikuchi scored original music for this film. He is apparently very adept at using the mouth organ. The film was released through Toei Company, the company with perhaps the best strip logo in the business. Best ever.

A Wasted Trip

I suppose it had to happen eventually. I ended up with two really bad movies last week. I thought I would be cheeky and get some rentals on Wednesday, when the rates are cheap. Well, I probably should have stayed home and saved a couple bucks. The first one was Archangel starring Daniel Craig. The box cover said this was going to be an intriguing spy mystery with shocking results. Well, I found out later that it was a made-for-television two part miniseries and that probably explains the absolute lack of intrigue and cliff hangers. Briefly, the film follows the story of a Danish historian who is an expert on Stalinist Soviet Union. He hears about a diary that promises to reveal a side of Stalin that not many people knew before. So far, so good. The story continues to lead the professor, the daughter of his initial contact, and a plucky reporter on a journey to Archangel where they would find the son of Stalin. This is all intermixed with a political understory which claims that Russia is waiting for the return of Communism, in particular the return of Stalin or his son. Pretty weak. Maybe it's because I like car chases or whatever, because there were none in this movie. Anyway, the daughter and the professor know that Stalin cannot return to power. They are taken to a rally where supporters of the new Stalin are waiting. The daughter is able to move around the rally unnoticed and climbs a staircase where she can get a clear shot at Stalin with her dad's Makarov. I guess a headshot would have been too graphic for British television. Stalin takes one to the chest and the rise of Communism is finished before it starts again. I forget exactly how long this film was, but it sure took a long time to work up to such a quick, neat ending. Weak.

The next film I watched was Kaidan nobori ryu. One of it's many English titles is The Blind Woman's Curse. I'm not going to hide it, I fell asleep during this movie. The original draw to this film was Meiko Kaji, who would go on a few years later to film Joshuu 701-gô: Sasori or Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion. She also lost a lot of weight because it wasn't until after the film that I could figure out which character she was. Probably the only other notable bit is the appearance of Yoshi Kato. He plays Jutaro Mitsui, a noodle shop owner and I think a former member of the Tachibana clan. Many years later, Kato would play the noodle-making master in Juzo Itami's Tampopo. In Kaidan nobori ryu, Kaji plays Akemi Tachibana the new leader of the Tachibana clan. Some years before she tried to avenge the death of her father and probably did. It's hard to follow the sword play, that's one of the things that makes this movie so bad. She ends up cutting a young woman across the face and blinds her. A black cat laps the blood from the girl's face and haunts Akemi for the rest of it's life. There's a secondary story line where one of the Tachibana clan makes a deal with a new clan to use a third gang to defeat the Tachibana clan and destroy itself in the process. A kind stranger comes to the aid of the hapless Tachibana gang and ends up foiling the plan. The blinded woman has sworn to find Akemi and kill her. She has a hunchback who follows her around and helps her, but one day he goes a little to far and is banished by the blind woman. She meets up with Akemi and the stage is set for a duel. The black cat distracts Akemi and the blind woman cuts her, right across the eyes of the dragon in the tattoo on her back. Symbolism. Weak. Akemi asks the blind woman to finish her, but the blind woman takes pity. I think that's the end. It ended abruptly anyway. Apparently, there is quite a bit of humour in this film, but I didn't see any. All I remember is the really bad sword play, and the stupid cat which is hilariously fake in many shots. Hmmm, I guess there was some humour after all. This film was good for a nap and that's about it. I'm still a fan of Meiko Kaji, just like my mother-in-law who knows Kaji as an Enka singer. She's more famous that way.

Introducing Pepper and Saying Goodbye to the Neighbours

As first hinted in my last post, I was getting rid of Baby in favour of something more practical. This is Pepper, the German model I mentioned. I actually choked up a little when I had one last look through the Jeep. I had made that purchase with the full intention of putting a million miles on the legendary straight six design that Jeep brought back for that year. Well, only Cherokees and Libertys are suitable for families with infants. Any other Jeep is considered a soft top and I can't legally anchor a baby seat in my old Wrangler. I try to think about the other side of the issue and then I don't feel so stupid. Foxy's safety is paramount. So on top of getting a vehicle with a roof, I got one that Ali could drive when she so fancies, and I got one that is technically better on fuel. And there were at least three occasions where I could have driven away without paying the difference for Pepper. I had the pink slip, I had the insurance transferred and I had the keys. I really wanted to see what would happen, but my sense of honesty got the better of me. I waited until the salesman walked away, and then called him back to tell him I still hadn't paid. We both went upstairs to the business manager and I cut a cheque for them. I was really impressed with Volkswagen up to that point and I didn't want it to sour.

Pepper's got quite a lot of room, another bonus over the Wrangler. I can fit myself, Ali, Foxy, the stroller, the megapack of disposable diapers from Costco and the hypothetical dog all in. There won't be a dog, for as long as I have my very acute sense of smell. Here's a look from the left, and then the right.


























I took Pepper (oooh, I nearly typed Baby) out to see Bobby and his boss. "What's the difference between a cactus and a Volkswagen, Dax?" I've come to expect jokes from Bobby's boss, and considering he runs a Maserati shop, the jokes will be on me or my car until I buy one from him. I didn't know the answer. "A cactus has pricks on the OUTside. You bought yourself a Jokes-wagen, kid". He calls me kid, even though he's probably less than ten years older than me. "But it's a good car, and you got the baby now".

I drove out to visit Sissy and Enzo J for a little bit and snap some more photos. Enzo J is getting pretty big now, and he's quite a social lad. Here's Pepper during a visit to Enzo J's house:



















The dealership just called to advise that they overcharged me on the purchase. Sweet! That's why you should always be honest in matters financial. I'm richer than I expected to be.

Imagine shlepping halfway around the world with everything you own, oh and a toddler and a three-month old because your husband got a new job in the colonies. A bit of a shakeup I guess, but then imagine having to truck it all back plus two kids and a looming divorce all because the guy you followed dutifully around the world couldn't keep it in his pants. On the way to the dealership this morning, I noticed my very nice neighbour moving house. I got the story and I felt really, really angry. I had hoped that Foxy would be able to make friends with two very adorable Japanese kids in the same block of flats. I was mostly angry though because of what my good friend was being forced to do by no fault of her own. Her daughters are very disappointed in their father, and I hope he pays for it the rest of his life. I'm a little sensitive to these things. I have a great wife, he has a great wife. I have a young daughter, he has two. Why would a guy whose got a great family smash it like that?