Dax Watches Movies

Really? My last post was December 31?

2009-02-07T19:04:00.005-05:00

Today is one of those rare days where I have enough time to sit down and write. A lot has been going on: between the new job and school there's hardly enough time to think.
So what are some of those things that have been going on? Well, skipping right past the new job - which is totally, totally awesome by the way - I've been drinking a lot. Not a lot specifically, but frequently. So much that I'm now at my softest. I won't say heaviest because I could gain a few, but it's all pudge. I've now gone back to drinking in the flat because it's cheaper, and there's a lot less chance of death by misadventure. Let's see... my beer catalogue now includes Radeberger, a rather un-pilsenery pilsener from Germany, Young's Double Chocolate Stout, and St. Peter's Honey Porter, both out of England, and something called Steam Beer from San Francisco.

So the Radeberger was the cheapest stuff on offer, and we had surprise guests. Bobby came over to drop off some paperwork and tell us about his new sort-of-girlfriend, which was nice. I'd buy the Radeberger again, but it loses points for not having that unique Pilsener flavour and gains them back again for being a generally good tasting beer. I knew what I was getting myself into when I bought the Young's - but the question to the brewer still remains - WHY? The St. Peter's is now officially the most expensive beer I've bought off the shelf, at $4.70 for 500mL. I should have done my research, this beer gets a C+ at www.beeradvocate.com. I admit I was intrigued by the use of the word "honey" in the name, and the swish bottle which frankly, the company concedes is a huge selling point. I also got this beer mixed up with the Young's which I thought was a chocolate porter. Small mistake, but one must persevere. I just don't get the big deal with porters. Give me Asahi Supaa Dorai any day. I also picked up some Sapporo Premium beer, which comes in a really nice heavy aluminum can, for something I'll get to in a bit. This would be, but for the St. Peter's, the most expensive beer I've ever bought at the store. But you do get 150 mL. more than my regular size beer. Strangely, it's not the most expensive in a restaurant.

As part of my non-schoolwork related activities, Randy invited me out to a new whiskey bar in Washington Heights. He tries to patronize his local retailers, and gets so gutted when they shut. It's okay Randy, it's not your fault. You can't do it all by yourself. Before we went to the whiskey bar, we went to a place that's advertising itself as an upscale English pub. Yeah... no. They weren't quite upscale and they weren't quite English. One or the other, people. I might go again. Off we went to the main event, managed by the most delightfully gay pair of fellows. I don't know if they were that delightfully gay, or if it was the absinthe. They seemed pretty annoyed by me by the time we left. Randy started with a hot toddy because he was fighting a cold. Then he had the charcuterie plate, and a selection of three whiskeys. He ended the night with a Sidecar and apparently an espresso because I got charged for one. I had a house cocktail called My New Boyfriend, then a French 75, and here's where it got stupid - a Death in the Afternoon which is equal parts champagne and absinthe. I followed it with a Red Stripe, and a port and an Anchor Steam Beer - just because I'd never heard of it. We shared it with the bar tender who gave it to us for free. As you can imagine, I spent the next day with a nice little hangover. Water and a banana. I took them separately which might have been my mistake because the banana nearly knocked me out. I almost passed out, but thought nothing of it because I've heard of potassium spikes before. I just laid on the floor and waited for the cold sweats to subside.

It was a nice place, and I might even take Mr. K there on his next visit. Yup, that's my big news - my father-in-law has decided that he will arrive in New York with his usual retinue on my anniversary. That's why I picked up the Sapporo. It's good and it's bad at the same time. I like him, and it will be good to see him again. We will also see Genya and his new wife. Genya has been strangely, though thankfully absent from our lives since he got married. He spent a lot of time in Japan, but now he's back, and he's just waiting to slap me around if Mr. K says so.
But the bad is that he's coming on our anniversary and will probably have some very directed questions for me to answer. The good is that he'll be leaving less than a week later, and he'll be taking my wife with him. The bad is that he's also taking Foxy - for seven weeks. The good is that I'll be able to get some quiet time in for exam prep. The bad is that Foxy is not going to recognize me when she comes back.

This used to be a blog about movies. Since my last post about movies, I've watched Sixteen Candles a few times, some of Pretty in Pink but I hate watching John Cryer ever since he got that sitcom. Also watched Fight Club. It's a shame I have that rule about any movie with Bradd Pitt in it, because this movie was really, really awesome. I might even read the book one day. I also saw some really good Cantonese movies, but I can't remember what they were called. I watched La Lingerie, or at least I tried because it seemed to be one of those nexus films where like, five really good actors from five different films come together to make one really good film, except it wasn't that good. I turned it off after fifteen minutes. The premise was just too stupid in my opinion - even for an HK romance drama. I think I may have converted somebody at work over to Park Chan-uk, and I'm quite proud of that.

Avoiding Homework

2008-12-31T13:19:00.004-05:00

It's the end of the month, so that can mean only one thing - cram as many photos as possible onto Flickr before they take away my free bandwidth. It doesn't roll over so I should probably do that today. It's amazing actually what I will do to avoid homework.

Of course, it's also the end of the year so Happy New Year and all that. Personally, I'd like to close the book on 2008 and just forget it. There were some highlights: Foxy - she's come a long way, and a second trip to Japan to give Mr. K his annual progress report. It was the first one for us, so I think he was lenient. Next year, maybe not so much. Lowlights: Pretty much everything else in between. Just slogging away, trying to get a little further ahead.

Bob came by yesterday with the gifts we didn't get a Christmas. We kinda knew what we were getting, and I'm pleased with the gift. We got some vases, with a bit of an Indian design to them. They are too narrow to have around the house with a toddler. Bob knows we have a kid, right? Just checking. We've had to put them away until she gets bigger. Foxy got lots of toys, and until I could find the off switch we all sang the ABC song about 50 times.

Got some more chocolate from Randy and Kat, and some coffee beans. That gave me a reason to go out and buy a coffee grinder. On the same trip, I popped by my favourite liquor store - union staff but without union hours - and picked up that bottle of Louis Roederer. The clerk was surprised when I asked him about the blackout the other day. He didn't recognize me because I wasn't wearing my fancy interviewing clothes. I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Anyway, he's a nice guy and any time I want something I just have to call ahead and he'll put it aside for me. What a guy! He also told me that Roederer is the same company that makes Cristal. Apparently, I'm the last person to learn this. We got some Brut Premier, but that Cristal trivia made me wonder if I would ever by from Roederer again. We'll see how this bottle tastes and then decide.

For some reason, Ali got it in her head that that bottle of Clicquot we drank on Christmas Eve while we ate KFC cost $200.00. Who would pay $200.00 for a bottle of champagne just to waste it on KFC? A Japanese guy would do it, according to Ali. Okay, I might have said the bottle cost $200.00 because you can buy a $200.00 bottle of Veuve Clicquot if you really must, but I'm pretty sure I told her the truth as soon as we sat down to dinner. I have no idea why she still had that number in her head five days later.

I went down to the local last night to relax after a rather difficult assignment, expecting it to be very quiet. I would be able to share recipes with the waitress, and other neat stuff. The place was stacked to the rafters, and that particular waitress was too busy mixing drinks to look people in the face. I ended up taking my two pints to the overflow area. The bar has a restaurant section that operates under a different name, and they close early so when the bar gets crazy the patrons seeking solitude can sneak into the restaurant. I ended up sitting too near a group. My lethal ears - you know, the ones that nearly got me shanked a few years ago - overheard some really juicy tidbits. There was some guy blabbing to his associates and anybody else who would listen about something, and he was quite obviously lying to impress them. Listening to this guy made me a little angry. It wasn't just a few drinks with friends, he was bucking for a job, and lying about his past experiences isn't very nice. I wanted to ask him some questions to embarrass him in front of his potential clients, but I thought better of it. I ordered a third pint, and tried to drown out his lies. I suppose I could have just moved to another part of the bar.

The walk home was fun. A lot of drug dealers asked me if I wanted rock, whatever that is. Even the drug dealer who couldn't speak English. "Hey, amigo. ¿Estás buscando rrrrrrrock?" I thought it was funny how he rolled his r. But then I started to think about the very first book I read without pictures. Night of the Werewolf, by Frank W. Dixon. A Hardy Boys mystery. I don't know why boys read those books. They are poorly written.

I came home and watched part of Blame it on Río. I used to get Joseph Bologna and Alex Rocco mixed up a lot when I was a kid. Then I saw The Godfather and I never confused the two again.

Christmas Waffles

2008-12-29T14:15:00.004-05:00

How was your Christmas? Let me tell you about mine. I have this rule, and it goes something like this: To be fair to all members of my rather dispersed family, I should accept the first invitation to Christmas that is offered. That way, I don't become one of those invitation shoppers who holds out until a better one comes along. That's not nice, and it's not really fair either. Of course it also skews the odds in favour of the (seemingly) more organized members of the family. Bob is always the first to invite. He begins his Christmas plans on April 16th, the day after Tax Day. Though every Christmas with Bob, save one is like an extremely painful back massage, I always accept the invite because if I didn't, no one would. Is that a pity RSVP? Not really, there's also a measure of family duty involved. It's like, only one of two times a year that I visit, so I kind of feel that it's unavoidable.

That one Christmas, that really rocked was the year that Bob decided to stop observing Hanukkah, and get with the cool people. He managed to find a restaurant that was open on Christmas. It was the nicest restaurant I'd ever been to up to that time. It was really classy - The waiter brought the turkey to the table first, and then sliced it. All the kids were there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And the turkey was the best one ever not cooked by anyone in my family.

It's different now, all the kids are grown up and jaded by adult responsibility. But we're not the only ones. I'm just saying because it's different now. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Bob has a way of changing everything at the last minute after everyone else has committed to the original plan. It's his way of maintaining control. He'll do it even when it's someone else's party. I've learned to accept it, and this year was going quite nicely until about a week before Christmas, Bob called and said that things MIGHT be cancelled. The kid brother had mono or something, but we didn't want to tell Bob something he didn't want to know. "It's just whooping cough, nothing a little bit of chicken soup won't fix". But Bob was right to alert me because Foxy hasn't had all of her Pertussis shots yet. She's got one to go. Technically, I think she'd be okay but it's not worth the risk, especially since the kid brother didn't actually have whooping cough, rather something worse.

But then Bob called to say that dinner was back on. This, after I had already wormed my way into Christmas dinner with Sissy and Enzo, and a big delicious plate of Osso Bucco. So now Bob is Waffling, and I'm Waffling by association. I really hate Waffling. Alright, it's settled. I'll just cancel plans with Sissy and hope against everything that Pepper, my front-wheel drive Volkswagen can make it to Bob's without snow tyres.

So after a harrowing week of not having a job, then maybe having a job, then probably not having a job, and then all of a sudden having an awesome job, and the blackout at the liquor store, and the chirpy reporter who ended up printing his story without my comments (whew!), Bob called on December 24th to leave it up to me to decide whether I should attempt the journey the following day. Oh snap! Did he just...? Yes, he did. Bob played the Passive Waffle. And it had extra syrup on it. Whatever, we were committed to going to Bob's place, and we were going to do it. I'm not a Waffler, dammit! I let the indignation dissolve with a bottle of champagne and a big bucket of KFC. Now Christmas Eve can have all the usual fun and excitement, but you can be drunk and oily at the same time too! It's a Japanese thing.

And then on Christmas morning, the coup de grâce. The kid brother called up at half seven and said that there was a blackout at Bob's place, and that dinner was cancelled... I guess. I guess?? Now the kid's a Waffler, too but I didn't take it out on him because he's only Waffling by association, and he's only the messenger. I had to put a stop to it though, so I ignored the "I guess" shit and said that it's cancelled. I waited until a civilized hour to call Sissy and beg for a spot at her Christmas. Luckily, there was still room however we were going to have to transfer vehicles at some point. Don't sweat the small stuff. Just as we were about to leave, the phone rang and Bob apologized for everything and said that dinner was back on. The blackout wasn't his fault, so I told him not to apologize but we had in fact made other plans. We had actually invited ourselves twice to someone else's dinner, and it would be really bad form to cancel now. I kinda felt bad for Bob. I know he only wanted to see his favourite granddaughter. I said we'd try to catch him in 2009 and off we went for some Osso Bucco.

Christmas turned out to be very nice and quaint. Bobby managed to start an argument, even though he was awake for a maximum of three hours during our visit. Christmas night, Foxy came bounding into the living room with my gift. A nice 50 unit size box of Nestlé minis with a coupon for Crayola crayons, and a really nice tie from DKNY that I managed to fray in 5 seconds. The poor chocolate minis didn't survive three days. Ali has requested a deferred gift plan for 2008, so I don't have to worry about that until January.

Boxing Day, we all went to Randy and Kat's place where everyone is a karaoke star. As a little treat for our wives, Randy and I did a duet of Ebony and Ivory. As usual, Ali didn't appreciate it but Kat and Foxy thought it was the funniest thing ever. Randy did his usual Journey tributes, and I did some Scorpions. Ali did some Japanese thingy and some Beatles and Kat did some Pat Benatar and The Jackson Five.

The rest of the Christmas break so far has been focused on homework for me, and Billy's Bootcamp for Ali. I'm trying to figure out something to do for New Year's. Thanks to Yongfook and his suggestion of Louis Roederer, my plan is already half finished.

Best Christmas Present Ever

2008-12-24T00:33:00.003-05:00

So yeah, maybe that sounds a little melodramatic, and I know I said that I would not discuss work on this blog but I am gainfully employed once again. I have the world's best recruiter. You know how I work with several different ones, right? Well, the recruiter who landed me this job knocked my socks off. When I first met her, she was in a bit of a panic and was vetting my credentials for another job. I didn't feel comfortable working with her at the time, but a contact is a contact so I kept her card and made sure that I kept her updated. I didn't get the job she had met me for and I kinda figured that would be the last I heard from her. A few weeks go by and I take a look at her website. Hey, what do you know? There's a couple of positions listed right there that would be perfect for me. I called her and let her know that I was interested. I don't know what happened on those jobs, but a week after that she called me and said that I had a job interview the next day with a high profile firm. And she wanted me to get the job. I mean, she called me and prepped me, and prepped me some more. She wanted to make sure I was ready for this company. Oh, and I have the best references too.

The first interview was a piece of cake. The second interview was tricky because its always difficult to schedule around the holidays. By the time the second interview happened, my recruiter was sunning on a deck chair at some timeshare on Maui. But that doesn't mean I wasn't going into this interview cold. She called me the night before from Los Angeles to prep me some more. I've heard of some recruiters who never stop working, but this was ridiculous. It was Christmas and she was travelling. She could have taken a break. I'm reasonable, I would understand. After the second interview, the client made an offer, and that's that. No more talk about work.

Last week, we went to the best first-birthday party I can remember. Enzo J's first was pretty good, but this party had Santa Claus. And Foxy won first prize in a baby foot race. Of course it helped that she was the oldest of all the babies there, and that she could actually run. There were activities for the parents too, which I thought was pretty nice of the host to plan. By the time we arrived at the party, Ali and I were pretty mad at each other. Me because Ali can't ask for proper directions (i.e. proper street names and building numbers) if her life depended on it; and Ali because I kept reminding her of how many times I'd asked her to please get directions before. We lightened up pretty quick though. The birthday girl was subjected to the Trial of Mochi. At least that's what I'm calling it. Apparently, it is a tradition in Hokkaido to see how far kids can schlep four pounds of mochi on their backs on their first birthday. This birthday girl couldn't stand up with it, let alone walk. How embarassing!

Foxy now calls me Daddy, which is better than Mommy and just tonight she started saying her name. She's learning fast, but just when you think she can't get any faster, she does. She now copies me and Ali almost immediately. So now I have to watch what I say.

Pornos on the 6th Floor, Yayu, and a Shiner for Christmas

2008-12-13T15:46:00.005-05:00

It's been some time, but I have been fighting a cold for like a month now. What? At least I thought I was. I now believe that I was fighting a cold for a week, and then fell victim to incredibly dry air. That's right. I'm now so old that my physical condition is controlled by my head holes. I mean, I've heard tourists say that we have dry air here, but I've never felt it myself. Not until this year. Nothing like waking up every morning with a sore throat and having it for half the day.

There's also nothing like going out on job interviews with a head cold. People were pretty understanding though. One of my recruiters, the one I was relying on to find me work since August while I did a half-ass search myself has nothing. Literally, they have nothing on their website. No problem, because I have another recruiter that has higher calibre clients. Well, a little problem. That recruiter thought I'd found work on my own so she wasn't looking for me. I don't even need to call her myself to tell her. She's that good. She knows already. I was ready to put my fist down the phone, but since that call she has been pretty aware of what I'm up to. She came across a job for me, but declined it because it was a little shady and not really a position for growth. So that was nice of her.

I networked a little more and have had some progress on a couple of leads. A new recruiter who came to me - Wow that's a first - has put my name in to a law firm. If I get that one, then there will be no further talk of work on this blog. Unless they screw me. The thing is, I met someone a few years ago who works at this firm and I think I might be replacing them. I don't think they could be promoted to be my boss at this point. Awkward. Let's hope they don't remember that we used to be classmates.

I spent most of the time after the initial cold studying for my exam. I think I did pretty well. I could have studied more, but I'm not looking for a gold medal. I just started a new course, and already I'm running into problems. It's a course I've taken before, so I'm not too worried, but Ali sure can be difficult. She wants to go to a Christmas party on the same night I have class. It's not at a gay bar this time. My class is three hours long and it's pretty important because the goyim will be taking a two week break for Christmas and New Year. Okay, so we push the course back two weeks. If only it were that simple, young Hallman. Nobody calls me that anymore. Pity. Back when Bobby and I were in the same classes at school, our teacher used to call us Hallman, and young Hallman but only when we were in trouble, or when our teacher was incredibly annoyed. My name got called more, but that's because Bobby was never there. So Ali wants to go to this party, but nobody's good enough to babysit Foxy. So Ali says that if she can't take Foxy to the party at a hotel bar, then she just won't go. I hate this. There's no reason why Ali shouldn't go to the party on her own. We have a lot of friends who are willing to baby sit, but Ali can't let go. I think I'll be babysitting and missing class.

Randy and Kat came over for Thanksgiving. I served, but I didn't make a turkey. I made ribs again. I'm getting pretty sick of ribs, but I recently overheard a recipe at the local that I might want to try. Yes, I've gone back to my old local. I stopped going to that other place because the waitress tried to take away my tequila. It's okay, she was new. I went down there expressly to sample their tequila which they were very proud of, and while I was there I had a doppelbock, by Celebrator. Not since those heady days in Oklahoma have I tasted such a beer. Oklahoma - the only place I know where Orange Peel can be mistaken for Native American. Yeah, she's brown but so if more than half the world. But she doesn't have a funny accent, so I guess it was an honest mistake - I guess. Down there, it was a six pack of some Texan brewery bock, possibly Shiner by Spoetzl. See, Oklahoma isn't stinking hot in the late spring, early summer. It's Holy Fuck, kill me now hot. And it's humid. That's the worst part. Except for the part where all my relatives from Arizona were there saying stuff like, "This ain't nothing. When we left Phoenix, it was 114 in the shade." So I decided that even though I'm travelling with my tea totalling elders and their apnea machines, I was a grown ass man and I wanted a nice cold beer. Sound good doesn't it? Except bock isn't a nice cold beer. Bock is a nice cold meal. After three - they were weak - I was full. It is the first and only beer to which I said I could not eat another bite. I felt like I was back in that Amish cafeteria in Chouteau, only not as full. The only reason I tried it is because Bobby said Bock is good. Little did I know, but Bobby had never had bock. He was just saying it was good because one of his friends told him it was good.

So fast forward to 2008, and there I am with a doppelbock because hey, if the bock was bad, then a doppelbock should be twice as bad, right? It wasn't. It was actually nice. Then again, I wasn't sick with heat stroke so maybe under the right circumstances I might have liked the Bock. And as I was cleansing my palate for the tequila, the waitress came over and tried to clear the table. What what what? I'm just sipping water, not leaving! That tequila was nice too, but the place has a two drink maximum unless I buy food, so they're kind of saying "Your money isn't good enough, go get your drink on some place else". The next time I went out, I had the cold, and wanted to see if what they say about Guinness is true. So there I was back at my old local with a pint of Kilkenny in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. Kilkenny is my new favourite, and as soon as I had cleansed my palate for the Guinness I realized why that one never was my favourite. It definitely has a taste. I had either heard somewhere or had tricked myself into thinking that Guinness could cure a cold, or at least help. I mentioned this to the bartender, and he shook his head and said that whiskey was the answer. The waitress started me off with a peaty, sweet whiskey but I was not satisfied. I asked to see a list so that I knew how to spell what she had given me. Hmmm, I noticed that they had Johnny Walker Green Label. Funny, the week prior another bartender told me that they only had Red and Black. Technically true, but they had a whole bunch more whiskeys that they served in their other bar and not in the beer bar where he was working. This time I asked if I could have Green. The waitress went around to the whiskey bar and brought some back just for me. Why Green? Because that's our drink - my father in law and me. Except he uses it to make gurepufurutu sauwa or grapefruit sours and I never notice the taste because we usually have it after beer. Well, I have to say that Johnny Walker Green is a very nice whiskey. I wouldn't have said that three weeks ago. But the best part was when I went back to the bar a week later and this chick at the bar asked me how my cold was. It was the waitress, having a drink after her shift. We talked about the dry air and she agreed. Her friend, the bartender from whiskey night shared his recipe for ribs, and the waitress gave me a great recipe for corn bread. She told me to come back for the full recipe, but I haven't had time to make the trip. So I polished off my two pints and waited for the music to end. Bronski Beat was playing. Right when it was getting good, the bar manager cut the music and put on some heavy metal. I was the last one in the bar, and made a little fuss because we're all friends. The manager apologized and admitted that he's too young to remember Bronski Beat. Fuck I'm old.

No more bar talk. I came home the other day and the lift opened on the sixth floor because somebody was getting out there. There were a bunch of camera cases stacked on carts in the hallway. Nobody was moving in or out, there were no moving vans near the main entrance. The first thing that came to mind was that there was a film crew making a porno on 6. It's happened before. I also thought about recent problems we've been having with some tenants, but that was a different group. The camera cases were gone the next day. Oh yeah, I've also been preoccupied with the condo association. Not since the 1997 annual general meeting at Nanna's condo in Boca Raton have I experienced such excitement. Some of the owners want new lobby and hallway decor, and they want the rest of us to pay for it. The first vote was defeated. The condo vice president called another meeting a month later, and again the vote was defeated. Well, say what you will about this guy but he sure is plucky. A month after that, he called a new meeting and finally the vote was passed. There's been a lot of negativity created because of this, but I guess the positive is that we're getting a new lobby.

Okay, so the movie part of this post is about The Bank Job starring Jason Statham, the always incredible David Suchet. I don't really remember much about this film, except a lot of naked ladies, and a bank being robbed. I did remember how hot chicks were in the 1970s. That was something I'd forgotten as I grew older. It was a good film, it's just been such a long time since I saw it that I'm low on details. I think the one detractor of the film is that they try to tie a sex scandal allegedly involving Princess Margaret into the plot. Who knows? Maybe it really was the reason that the bank was robbed, but it added an extra storyline that I don't think was entirely necessary. I rented this one because I wanted to see something with Statham in it. That guy never does a bad movie. That said, I've never seen any of The Transporter series. But I just might go see the third one, because it has Statham but it also has Robert Knepper. Who? You might know him better as Teabag or Theodore Bagwell from Prison Break. Sure, he plays a really bad guy, but the important thing is that he plays it well. Ali is totally confused with what's happening on Prison Break this season. She still hasn't booked her ticket to Tokyo. She's waiting for prices to drop a little more. Oh yeah, Mick Jagger is in The Bank Job. See if you can spot him. I admit, I had to rewind (do we say that anymore) and take a good look, but it's him for sure.

I'm not sure how this happened, but Foxy somehow gets Yayu out of her first name. One morning she was sitting in front of the hall closet looking at the mirror and screaming "Yayu, Yayu, Yayu!" repeatedly. I figured she was screaming "Lion, Lion, Lion!" her way which comes out of her mouth as "Yayo..." But this was slightly different. Ali confirmed it, Foxy believes her name is pronounced Yayu. She also believes that Grandma and Grandpa from Tokyo live in my filing cabinet, and that my name is Mommy. She's getting there though, growing up real fast. She got that shiner above her eye after a fight with a laundry basket. You can't take your eye off this kid for one second. Even though she knows she's not supposed to, she likes to climb in the empty basket and try to walk. Off course, the basket tips and her face meets the corner of my maple dresser. Silly girl.

Whiskey is the New Vodka

2008-11-07T01:13:00.006-05:00

Thought I'd pop out and see Rocknrolla tonight. Have I seen this movie before? Indeed, I have, only it was called Layer Cake, and instead of being directed by Matthew Vaughn, it was directed by his close friend Guy Ritchie. Ritchie even had the cheek to film part of his movie at Stoke Park House, one of the same places that Layer Cake was filmed at. These two movies have a lot of other similarities too, like dishonest accountants and stuff. Don't get me wrong, this was a good movie. This is a story than can be told over and over again and it never gets old.

Of course the cast helped. Starring Gerard Butler as One Two, Thandie Newton as Stella, Jimi Mistry as the Councillor, and Tom Hardy as Handsome Bob. Hardy, by the way, also starred in Layer Cake. Newton plays the role of a 30 year old accountant. Really? Not even the best makeup artist in the world could make her look 30. Jeremy Piven and Ludacris feature in the film as two talent managers. There's just so many awesome actors in this movie, I wouldn't know where to end - Idris Elba as Mumbles, Toby Kebbell as Johnny Quid the Rocknrolla, Karel Roden as Uri, Mark Strong as Archie, and Tom Wilkinson as Lenny. Toby Kebbell looks exactly like Bobby did ten yers ago, except Bobby's beard is a little thicker. I had to give my head a shake a few times. Thanks to Toby, or at least the fight co-ordinator, I will never look at a pencil in the same way again. Karel Roden, you may remember was first introduced to this blog when I reviewed Running Scared. He played the John Wayne loving Russian immigrant. Mark Strong pulls off a good, clean tough. He was also in Revolver, another one of Guy Ritchie's films. Haven't seen that one. Tom Wilkinson makes any movie good. I think he may have done a better job than Sir Michael Gambon did in Layer Cake. Would somebody please give Idris Elba a starring role in a movie already? A good one, too. I would pay to see it, and bet that a lot of other people would too. There was another guy who didn't get credit, and I don't really believe his character because I'm pretty sure Kevlar vests aren't designed to take rapid fire from a machine gun, but anyway he was good, too. I heard it through the grapevine that his name is Alex Kovas. It's strange that he wouldn't get credit because he did have a speaking part. Although his lines weren't in English. That shouldn't make a difference.

So I made it to the theatre while they were still running the previews. I see that one of my old clients has a new movie due out next year. I probably won't see it, and I'm guessing not a lot of people will. Too bad, but knowing him he's probably got a few more films in the can already. I also see that Michael Bay has been very busy since Transformers. He's got The Unborn scheduled soon, and a Friday the 13th thingy coming out on Friday, February 13, 2009. Maybe it won't suck, but a lot of the audience were already not impressed. Why doesn't Jason just die already?

So what can I say about Rocknrolla? Good music, including a little General Public and The Clash. Gerard Butler sports a little Scottish accent. I'm not sure if that was a put on or if its his real accent. I didn't see 300. The story, like any other Guy Ritchie movie that I know of, has a plot and then it has a sub-plot. The two plots come together to some degree. In this one, I'm not sure the two plots met flush. They met, but not at the climax of the film. Get me?

Okay, so these two guys, Mumbles and One Two buy a piece of land for like 10 million pounds, but since they have criminal records they can't get a bank loan for it. Instead, they get it from Lenny, a loan shark among other things. The guys can't get zoning permission for the lot, so they're left with a pile of bricks. Lenny isn't very happy about this and takes over the lot and adds another 2 million in juice to the deal. It was actually Lenny who screwed Mumbles and One Two on the deal in the first place. He bribed the Councillor to deny the permit, and then took over the land.

I'm not sure if it's related, but Lenny gets involved with a wealthy Russian, loosely modelled after Roman Abramovich, owner of Chelsea Football Club. Or perhaps another billionaire football club owner who hung around F1 for awhile, Alex Schnaider. Either way, this Russian wants a permit to build a new football stadium and he needs Lenny's skills. He makes a deal for 7 million Euros, and offers to lend a beautiful painting to Lenny. He only lends it because the painting, which we never see by the way, is also lucky.

Not long after, the painting is stolen and the race is on to find out who stole it. Lenny threatens a few guys with nasty crayfish, and they tell him that Johnny Quid is the one who offered the painting to them for sale. What? Johnny Quid is dead, according to an article in the Daily Mail or some other newspaper. It doesn't suit Lenny that these two punks are having him on. Anyway, the hunt is now on for Johnny Quid.

Off we go to see an unconvincingly young, but still hot Thandie Newton as Stella arrange to rip off the couriers who are handling the 7 mil. She's the Russian's accountant, and she needs a little excitement in her life because her husband is gay. She calls her boyfriend and tells him about the rip and wants twenty percent. Her boyfriend is One Two and he needs the money to pay back Lenny. See? Classic Ritchie. Mumbles and One Two grab the dosh and off they go. Now the Russian is getting upset. He doesn't have his lucky painting anymore and he thinks that is the reason he lost his money.

At this time, there is an opportunity to find out who has been feeding information to the police about all these guys who meet at a particular club. Stella's gay husband is a lawyer, and he's having a gay party and Stella wants One Two to send his gay friends, if he has any, over. A party is a party and One Two shows up with a few of his buddies and sees one of his gay friends there. I won't say which, you'll have to see it to find out. At the party, One Two convinces his gay friend to chat up the lawyer husband and make a deal for witness papers that will show who the confidential informant is. Eventually, they get it but its a pseudonym so they're still fucked.

Johnny Quid isn't dead, he just wants to get high in peace. Lenny tracks down the two talent managers and puts a bit of a squeeze on them. He threatens to close their club unless they help him find Johnny. They think he's dead, but Lenny convinces them to try harder. Archie, Lenny's second in command is out following leads on the painting as well. One Two pays off the 2 million that he owes to Lenny and gets another call from Stella about a second delivery. The Russian still owes Lenny 7 million, and this time he's not sending a couple of accountants to handle the money. He's got some really hard Chechnyans to handle it. This time, Mumbles and One Two get the third man of their gang, Handsome Bob in on the job. They get the money, but not before they are clearly identified by the Chechnyans, and get the shit kicked out of them.

One Two pays Stella her twenty percent, but now the Russian is really mad. He takes Lenny out to Stoke Park and knee caps him with a sand wedge. I knew it was coming, but I was surprised it was the knee cap. I thought it would be the head. Lenny never did get planning permission for the site, the Councillor couldn't get it approved possibly because his cut of the 7 mil didn't show. Meanwhile, remember that painting? Johnny Quid's got it. See? He's actually Lenny's stepson and has an extra set of keys to the house. He really hates Lenny, so he nicked the painting when no one was looking. His friend discovers that people are looking for the painting and tries to cash in. Johnny doesn't approve and gives a soliloquy relating cigarettes to life. Then his friend invites two drug addict thieves around to the squat where he lives and once again, Johnny is not impressed. While he takes his friend into another room to tell him that he doesn't want people to know where he is, the two thieves take off with the painting. They take it back to a club where Cookie, played by Matt King, buys it no questions asked. I'm not sure why, but Cookie gives the painting to One Two as a gift to his girlfriend Stella.

Archie finds out that One Two and Mumbles are the ones behind the courier robberies, and he goes around to One Two's place to bring him to an appointment with Lenny. He interrupts the two Chechnyans who are about to slice up One Two. Four shots. A few moments later, Mumbles and Handsome Bob show up with the court papers and get taken around to see Lenny as well. The two talent managers find Johnny Quid and bring him to the warehouse where Lenny keeps his menacing crayfish. All accounted for, everybody who's not dead is at the warehouse. Johnny Quid lets rip about how his stepfather is the police informant. He sent all of his people down to teach them a lesson I guess. Because of him, One Two and Mumbles couldn't get the bank loan to buy the building. Hmmm, this guy does his preparation. He even sent his most loyal employee down for four years. Lenny, in a wheelchair, shoots Quid in the stomach, and tells his junior thug to take him and the two music dudes out of the place. Back to them in a minute.

The Russian visits Stella, and wants her to run away with him. His assistant is suspicious of Stella because she is the only other person who knew the details of both couriers. The Russian doesn't want to hear it. Of course, Stella spurns him and as he turns to leave, he sees the painting. He calls his assistant who is waiting outside and that's the last we see of them. Back in the lift, the junior man and another are escorting Johnny and the two music guys out to a car. Johnny explains to the music guys what is about to happen, and warns them about what to do. They shoot both of the bad dudes, and Johnny dispatches two more waiting outside the lift. That's the last we see of a badly injured Johnny and the other two. Or is it?

Back in the warehouse, Handsome Bob gives up the court papers to Archie who reads them and immediately recognizes the pseudonym as a name he saw in Lenny's files years earlier. Judging by Lenny's reaction at the time, Archie figures that Lenny is the snitch. One Two, Mumbles and Handsome Bob are now out of the warehouse and Archie wraps Lenny's wheelchair to a winch and lowers him into a great big yucky jambalaya of crayfish and other Thames goodness.

So now Archie is on top of the Layer Cake, oh sorry, wrong movie. Anyway, he's at the top of the heap and he awaits the arrival of a newly-sober Johnny Quid. They embrace, and Johnny steals Archie's gun. For a quick moment, I was expecting an ending like Layer Cake, but it was not to be. Johnny playfully handles the gun as Archie presents him with a welcome home gift. Johnny announces that he wants to follow in his stepfather's, and Archie's footsteps. So the moral of the story here kids, is that no matter how much a son hates his father and tries to do everything differently from his father, the son is destined to become the father. Not really, but that's just a little something I took away from it. There is no real moral, so don't go looking for one. Just sit back in your high-backed reclining seats with extra legroom in the large screen cinema and enjoy the movie.

The end credits suggest that Johhny and/or Archie and the boys will be back in Rocknrolla 2. I'm pretty sure that's not meant to be serious.

Hamilton Does It, and a Movie of Course

2008-11-02T16:23:00.008-05:00

Okay... So just in case you missed it, and slept in like I did - here are the results. Closer than I would have imagined. And on the final lap, would you believe?

F1 News > Hamilton is World Champion!

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On a tenuously related note, I happened to watch a movie filmed in Macau last night. See, Macau hosts, or hosted I'm not sure which, a junior formula race which holds a lot of prestige and had been the race to watch for the future of F1. I think Michael Schumacher was the last racer of note to win it. But anyway the movie is not about racing and follows a pretty formulaic set up for Cantonese films, as follows:

1) Find a Cantopop singer who hasn't made too many films before, if any.

2) Write a script which gives the singer ample opportunity to showcase their singing talents. To make the movie really score with audiences, make the plot about a singer in some way. Note that this plot is not necessary.

3) Title the movie after the singer. This will put bums in seats. Even after the singer's star has faded, the movie will serve to generate new fans as younger audiences age.

And so it was. Yi sa bui lai or Isabella if you try to sound it out using Spanish phonemes, stars Isabella Leong the requisite Cantopop singer and Chapman To the actual talent. I just want to say that I hope this film is in no way autobiographical for Leong. Otherwise, ouch. This wasn't her first film, and she seems to have an acting ability, but I say that To is the actual talent because that's his career.

I'm not going to do a chronology of this film. Instead, just broad strokes to illustrate the plot. Apparently, Macau was rife with gangsters and smugglers before the handover in 1999, but that might just be Central Committee propaganda for all I know. To plays an ex-cop who becomes a smuggler to make a decent living and still live the high life. Leong plays a teenager who has just lost her mother, never knowing her father, and who is prone to embellishing stories. She ends up with To, and somehow realizes that he is her long lost father, or so she is lead to believe. To, for his part, believes it at first too but when he discovers that he is not, he goes along with it anyway to protect the real father who is also his boss. The film focuses on the growth of the relationship between To and Leong, and the dialogue is not really important. I actually liked the pauses because it allowed the soundtrack to take over. A close imitation, you might even say rip-off of Vladimir Cosma's Sentimental Walk is repeatedly heard throughout. Or at least the opening riff.

To realizes that he is going to prison, and must somehow explain to Leong that they are not going to run away together which is what she believes. He nonchalantly explains to her, over a bowl of noodles that he is not her father and that he's got to go down on the charges. Leong is crushed, but she gets over it pretty quickly I guess because she decides to wait for To to be released from prison. The film doesn't go that far, but at the end of it Leong is no longer a girl trying to find her identity. She has become comfortable with who she is. Anyway, I liked the music and the scenery around Macau.

It's Been a While

2008-10-30T20:39:00.005-05:00

I really haven't felt the need to blog lately. It's been almost two months since my last post. In my head, I thought it was more like one month. Things have been developing at quite a pace lately. Schoolwork was piling up for a little while, and there have been bureaucracy issues that Ali can't take care of herself, so that's what I've been up to lately. I did see a nice Cantonese film a few weeks ago called Ngor dik dzui oi or L for Love, L for Lies. Okay, that took me half an hour to track down the correct title. Nobody said imdb.com has every movie logged. I think it can safely be said that I'm not a fan of romance movies - that is, unless they are Cantonese or Korean. I can't get enough of certain soap operas, the only way to stop that is to cut cold turkey. Give it a week, and try to start watching again. The soap won't make sense. I won't give too many details or comments about Ngor Dik Dzui Oi because it's been a while since I saw it, and I don't recall what I thought of it, except that I liked it. Then I saw some Hayao Miyazaki film that I thought I'd seen before, but couldn't quite remember seeing certain parts. That's what happens when you watch a movie possibly drunk, and then try to watch it again. And last week, the Cantonese channel, which changed formats recently played a movie about a mahjong player who is haunted by a curse. I'd seen it before I had cable and couldn't really follow it because of bad reception, but this time it was good, if you like freaky movies. It's part of a three-story film called Scare 2 Die. It took me forever to find that out, so much so that this is a two-day post now. Damn! I also got free passes to another movie which I will get to later in the post.

Speaking of watching movies while possibly drunk, my local has been ripped down. It's been quite a while since I've been down there, but I went down last week and the whole block was vacant, save one place on the corner. See, I don't go out drinking very much anymore because of a certain former classmate who seems to be everywhere I go. I don't want to run into him when I'm drunk because the last guy who did that ended up dead. Anyway, about this little place on the corner. Wonderfully quirky. I'd like to think it's just like the restaurant I would open, only I'm not that clever. For the record, my old local has moved up the street, but has gone decidedly upscale. After a slight mix up in the toilets, I decided to go back to the quirky place. I have all kinds of memos on my handphone, and most of them I can still understand, but they're not all relevant. I will attempt to recreate that evening hence.

Keep in mind that I had just come down the street, and to my surprise it looked like it had been bombed out. It was a Twilight Zone moment, but I went with it. Apparently, this new place that I had never noticed before has actually been on that very spot for the last three years. I had just had a stupid, stupid argument with Ali, and I was there to get my drink on. First up - Mill Street Coffee Porter out of Canada. It was my first porter, so I have nothing to judge it against, except maybe a New York Times audio slide show which left me with fanciful notions of chocolate in my beer. No such luck. It had coffee which I didn't like. I probably would have been better off having a bottle of old Lyle's Christmas bitter in Tattenhall Green, Wolverhampton. What a Christmas that was, too! If this porter is what I have to benchmark from, then it will also be the last porter I have.

Second - Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar from Oregon. The only reason I ordered this was because the beer card said that it was 24 oz., and because it had the word `nectar` in the title. It was not 24 oz., it was 21 oz. This was not the only mistake on the menu, they referred to Ricard Pastis as Richard Pastis and this was also not the first time I had been given undersized tankards for my ale. I alone am the vanguard of correct weights and measures. Nobody else seems to care. It's not hard, restaurant managers. If the bottle says 21 oz., then that is what you must put on your menu to be safe. But maybe I'm being unreasonable. The 1 and the 4 are like right next to each other on the number pad, and the 21 oz. bottle is the same size as the other 24 oz. bottles except for a slight tapering at the shoulder which could conceivably hide 3 oz. A trick of the eye, that's all. And I shouldn't forget that they comped my edamame. The beer card alluded that there were nutty notes and brown sugar in the taste of this beer, and I guess `hazelnut` is right in the title. Well, I don't know where in Oregon they get their nectar for this beer, but it was plain awful. There was a nutty aftertaste... of unsalted peanut shells. I've tasted a lot of wierd food people, so I know. And technically peanuts are not a nut, but a legume. They don't grow on trees.

I ordered the edamame because they had a house version for 50 cents more. In the end, it was comped so the price didn't matter, but the taste did. It sounded intriguing on paper, and it was good for the first few pods but man, stick with the regular edamame. I also ordered the mame because there was a two drink maximum unless I ate something. They didn't tell me that at first. And even though I had planned on stopping after the Rogue, I felt cheated. I wouldn't say that the experience was 0 for 2 so far, but I had to try something else. Bring on the Gouden Carolus, a dark Belgian beer that really is 24 oz. when you convert the pretentious EU labeling. 75 cL. What is that? It boasts of a caramel, liquorice flavour. I must say that as soon as I tapped `liquorice` into my handphone I forgot all about it. Even after a week, I was trying to figure out that taste combination. All I could come up with was a barely plausible turkish delight. The bottle came with a snifter. I guess. I told the waiter to cut me off, and I listened to a girl at the next table gab to her friends about how amazing her new boyfriend is. Ali doesn't do that. The Carolus was as advertised. Success! I can go home now. But wait, I'm getting chatty. I must be drunk. It's not actually time to go home yet. I went to use the toilets upstairs. I could still walk up stairs, that's a good sign.

What? The quirky kids who decided to move to the city and open a restaurant decided to broadcast radio plays into the toilets instead of annoying music. Well done! During my follow-up investigation last night, I discovered that the audio is not radio plays, but books on tape or whatever they're called. Last night, I went in to the toilets, and a Berlitz language lesson was playing. I was too sloshed to recognize what it was, but stupidly guessed it was Romanian. These kids had also decided to host a farmers' market on Sundays. That's over for the season, but I thought it was a great idea especially in that part of town. Not a big sense of community there.

I had a whole bit about Magnum, P.I. ready last week, but it's gone. I've been watching a lot of it lately, because you know, I don't have a job. Anyway, this show really sucked. Sure, it's Hawaii and the guy drives a Ferrari and the theme music is kinda cool, but come on. I never realized what a pussy Magnum was until I grew up and started watching the show again. I wasn't really allowed to watch it as a kid. As soon as Magnum came on, it was time for bed. You want to know a really good detective show? Banacek. That's right, George Peppard as Banacek. Can't go wrong there. Somebody told me he was a poof, and I believed it all up until about three months ago. You can't believe everything you read on Wikipedia, but there's no indication on his bio that he was gay. I don't know, maybe he was just a really good actor, and could play gayish or play roles with a certain air.

That's about all the text messages are going to help with this post. The rest are stale, or irrelevant except to mention that there were a lot of girls there last week with the skinny jeans/high heels combo. Until last week, I thought that look was out. One of the girls sporting this combo with yellowish leopard print heels was actually quite fetching, and possibly half my age. I'm getting old, and she is a smoker so there's no reason to discuss her any more. On the way home, I saw a nice black and white cat milling around a gated entry way. He didn't want to be pet. The door was ajar, and he ran inside. I was so drunk that I forgot the date, and actually texted reminders to myself that were three days late. Stupid. Special recognition for Ferdon, the manager from Bismarck who seemed like a really nice guy, and to Lulu the waitress who told me a lot about the restaurant. I stumbled home and got sick. Funny, everything I drank was dark but when it came up again, it was clear. Ali pulled my head up by the hair and at that moment tried to get me to promise something as follows:

"Are you never gonna drink until you go to haka?"

I wasn't so much drunk as I was weak. I totally knew what was going on and also knew that she was talking gibberish. There's no way she was going to take advantage of my weakened state and try to use fancy Japanese words on me now. "What's haka?"

"Until you die!"

"No deal". We have an agreement that theoretically we don't drink, except on special occasions she will allow me to have one or two. Even if I say no, she acts so surprised. It's actually not that complicated. I just have to watch what I'm doing and not make an ass of myself.

So I went back last night, and almost did just that. I was supposed to go back and try the tequila reposado, but I didn't feel like tequila. Instead, I was going to have one beer, and one only. One 24 oz. beer. I ordered myself a 3 Monts. This is a french beer, lighter in colour than the beers I had last week, and also comes with a snifter. I can't actually call this the champagne of beers because there is already another beer that makes that claim, and is on offer for like $35.00 a bottle across town. And I can't actually say it's a champagne because it has hops in it. Otherwise I would say it. I was reminded instantly of Veuve Cliquot du Ponsardin brut. I'm not a big champagne drinker. Sorry to the really hot chick who came to my wedding and gave us a bottle as a gift. If only you hadn't made a silly best-friends promise to Sissy, and I wasn't too shy about being eaten for breakfast. It was a nice gift. Foolishly I drank it, and could not replace it when Ali immigrated. There was some kind of shortage. It's back in stock now. Back to the 3 Monts. It was very crisp, and dry like champagne, but it did have a slight hoppy taste to it. Don't get me wrong. If I could choose between this and champagne, I'd choose this. But that's moot because the chances of this beer being offered alongside champagne are slim.

I don't know what it is about these beers. It could be the alcohol content, or it could be the fuckyou size bottle that it comes in. I was careful to choose a moderate alcohol content, but I still got sloppy. I singed the hair on my left arm on a table lamp as I reached across the table to pour more beer. It must be the 24 oz. I got home okay, but there is something about Belgian beers, and 3 Monts that just kicks you in the head. Not in a hangover kind of way, but in a somebody-spiked-the-punch kind of way. Anyway, I got home okay.

I haven't been writing lately because I've been trying to concentrate on school, and quietly trying to finesse my way into a job. My instructor is hiring, but it's a bureaucratic nightmare that's being dragged out for as long as possible. The job would be at one of the universities. Not one of the Ivy League ones, and I wouldn't be teaching but the job definitely seems to be one I'd like. The problem is that because it's a job at a university, they have to post the job across the state. I'd be competing against hundreds, if not thousands of people to get it. The job would be in forensic accounting. At a university? I know, it sounds weird but they have some things they need to look into. It's been seven weeks since he announced to the class that the position was open, but I have yet to receive a job description. This is a job worth waiting for. How many times have I passed up good opportunities for fast-money? Too many, that's how many.

What else? Foxy has been learning a lot about animals lately so I thought it might be a good time to take her to the zoo last week. Too early. She liked to look at the animals, but as soon as they came to within ten feet of the fence, she would freak. Even the miniature ponies that roam free. She knows about ponies, but she doesn't want to touch them. We met a family that had brought their 20-month old to the zoo. Their kid had no problem with the animals. I guess I should have waited until next year.

We took Foxy to a real farm for Enzo J's second birthday. We got to see lots of people, and animals and lots of stuff. Foxy had a good time. I had a buffalo burger and cake. Enzo J has two different coloured eyes. Not spooky or anything, just one is dark brown and the other is brown. I never noticed that before. Enzo's nephew won a trip to Italy to tour the Ferrari factory at Modena. It looks like Sissy and Enzo J might have to go too. Bobby's probably off to Greece next summer, but that's looking like less and less of a cert. And I'm trying to get things together so Ali can visit Japan a respectable two times a year.

I've been spending a lot of time cooking for Ali and our friends. It's not cheap, so the initial flurry of activity has died down a bit plus I was getting behind on my assignments. I'm ahead of the game for now so I thought I would blog a bit and sit down this weekend to watch Lewis Hamilton win the Formula One Drivers' Championship. It's a shame that Felipe Massa isn't going to win it. He's worked really hard, but Lewis has worked just a bit harder.

On top of all of Ali's government bureaucracy, we've been having a little trouble with the condo association. It's over for now, but it sure took a lot of time and effort just to get to that point. And it might all get brought up again, whenever the condo board vice president feels like it. Jerk. Nice guy, but jerky vice-president.

Ummmumumumum... oh yeah. The movie passes. I entered a draw to see Zack and Miri Make a Porno, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to see it because I have class on that night. So I gave the passes to Randy and Kat. Actual viewer quote: Hilarious, dude! But Randy says that about a lot of stuff. The movie stars Seth Rogen and Elizabeth Banks as two friends who need some quick cash and decide to make a porn film. I have no doubt that because Seth Rogen is in this film, that Randy's comments are accurate. Jim Norton and Traci Lords make appearances, directed by Kevin Smith. I hope Randy appreciates this because I gave up the opportunity to win free passes to see Guy Ritchie's Rocknrolla for this. Who am I kidding? That also would have taken place on Wednesday, when I have class. What to do on Hallowe'en? Dressing Foxy up in a lion costume and taking her around to Orange Peel's place for a party.

I'll Buy the Ice Cream and Other Lies I've Told

2008-09-02T18:28:00.007-04:00

Here's some photos of me in my Uniqlo shirt and Foxy on a not-so-recent "fact finding" trip to Seattle. If you look closely you can see my first grey hair. I now have more than one. Randy and Kat told us about a café that has some really kick ass hot chocolate. Now, I must tell you that I'd already had good hot chocolate... It's just part of my life but I will say that this place does it better. They said they almost didn't have enough chocolate, so I was surprised when they brought out two servings.

On to other things. What a fun trip to Boston. I say, we must do that more often. Quite frankly I didn't want to leave in the first place and Ali wanted to go back as soon as we got home. I did however get home just in time to get some leads on a job, right before the long weekend so that was nice.

Enzo and Sissy came over for dinner on Sunday. Well, not really. They came over but we went out for dinner. Enzo paid for a surprisingly mediocre dinner (not his fault) and Sissy suggested we all go for gelato. I pipped in that I would pay for the dessert, but somewhere along the way I changed my mind. Maybe it was while the Nike+ Human Racers prevented us from crossing the street that I had time to think about it. Actually, it was because the vendor decided to charge me to use my debit card. Get that. The vendor made a business decision and signed a contract to accept another form of payment (not credit card) but didn't accept the part about how the vendor will pay all charges to the debit card issuer. Hmmm, I never knew that you could sign a contract but decide which parts you don't like and say no. Anyway, it's kind of douchebaggy in my opinion that a businessperson would make this type of decision and then pass a normal cost of doing business onto the customer, and then make a big sign that says "Cash is preferred". Guess what, Fucknut? Debit card is cash. It comes straight from my bank account to yours. But that's not what I was mad about. I was actually mad that they didn't accept credit card.

This particular gelato guy has a reputation - at least among his regulars and former-regulars like myself - as being a bit of an ice cream nazi. What really pisses me off about this guy is that he doesn't do anything in his dad's shop. He just stands around shouting at the minimum wage help who are just trying to pay for school, and barks at customers. He wasn't there this time around, but he really needs to understand that he's not the only gelato vendor in New York City. Sissy paid for it instead. We all had gelato, except for Foxy. Enzo dropped his on the pavement because it was on the cone and not in the cone, and Enzo J got his gelato all over his face and overalls and in his shoes. Talented boy. I had pistachio and regretted not being able to share with Foxy, but she had some of Ali's.

Foxy decided that the end of August was as good a time as any to let me know that the best use of our time and resources would be for her and Ali to share the big bed. I'm on the couch now, and Ali doesn't see anything wrong with that except for the constant hair pulling. Don't worry, I got that one covered. Randy's going to give us one of his old Hallowe'en wigs so that we can trick Foxy into tugging on that instead of Ali's real hair.

I'm back in school and am looking forward to it. What? It'll be interesting. It would be nice to have a decent job to go along with that, but I'll have to wait for that I suppose.

I saw a little presentation about the usurper of blogs at Yongfook. There are several "lifestreams" out there, but his is better and called Sweetcron. He's been talking about it for a long time and finally finished it. Oh yeah, he likes lolcats, poor poor boy. I still pronounce it [switkorn] as though the spelling is meant to be incorrect, but it's supposed to be [switcr^n]. So it goes that really busy people don't have time to blog any more, and so using Sweetcron is an excellent way for those busy folks to manage their websites so that readers can follow them better, or currently. I thought this would be an excellent thing for people who like to live in fishbowls, or for people who have have a lot they want to share with friends and strangers. I also thought this would be a great time save to the blog, and I wouldn't have to type as much as I do, but Sweetcron is all about managing content so I would need content, a nice euphemism for life. I don't have a lot of content to share, so I'm going to pass on Sweetcron. It might be just the thing for you though. To be honest, I was just amazed that there are people out there who think about stuff like this, and can actually build it. But then again I still find voicemail amazing.

Going Places

2008-08-23T14:38:00.004-04:00

'We don't need you Dax. We have someone else who can do payroll. Oh by the way, thanks for teaching her everything'. Oh really. Imagine my surprise when my bank account appeared to be more flush than usual. The sillies paid me last week (more than usual) even though they laid me off last month.

Technically, the money is mine. If they want it back they'll have to go after me in Small Claims. But you know me, it was an honest perhaps ironic, mistake. So I'm going to pay back the money and laugh a lot - and then have a wee bit of a blub. I think I've made a few shekels of interest on it. The shitty part is that I just signed up for school again and would really like to use that money for a little while.

On top of that, Ali got a case of iwannas a few weeks ago. She couldn't care less that I don't have a job. 'I wanna see Backstreet Boys'. Done. 'I wanna see Daisuke'. So we're going to Boston to see them play the White Sox next week and also probably do a little shopping. Can't wait! 'I want chocolate. I want ice cream'. Well I want a blowjob. Some things just aren't going to happen babe. She got her ice cream, but I couldn't find any of those little chocolate pats they have at Starbucks.

We need a road trip again. I know we just had one a few weeks ago, but I'm sick of watching the Olympics. Ali is nuts for the Olympics. I guess I learn something new everyday. She doesn't care that she can't understand what the commentators are saying, as long as a Japanese athlete is kicking some butt, she's happier than a fat kid locked in a candy store.

Shar pei Foxy. Ali can be so mean sometimes, but it's this kind of stuff that makes her laugh. Her sense of humour is more warped than mine in many ways. Speaking of a warped sense of humour, I saw A Clockwork Orange the other night on the telly. I didn't see all of it, and maybe it was edited but I just didn't get it. I mean I get it, but I don't get what the big deal was about this movie. A former friend of mine told me that it was a really sick movie, one of the sickest he'd ever seen and that I should see it but also be prepared to be sick. Knowing him, and now having seen much of the movie, I find it hard to believe that it's one of the sickest movies he'd ever seen. I mean we saw Natural Born Killers together and that wasn't too bad but it was more violent than what I saw of Clockwork. Honestly, he'd seen worse things in real life as a soldier than what Clockwork had to show. Alex Burgess is cured at the end of the movie according to some viewers, but I don't get that feeling. I figure he'd just found another way to con the system and have his eggy weggs too. I've met many people like that.

Olympian in Training

2008-08-13T03:01:00.004-04:00

Foxy is my girl. Know how I know? Because she already knows where to find the snooze button on my clock radio. Nine more minutes Foxy. Good girl.

I also know she's my girl because on Saturday night, when Ali was working a singles' cocktail party in her kimono I got to babysit. It was a little weird. Have you ever had one of those moments when you are driving in a neighbourhood where you used to live and the randomly chosen music on your car radio is the same music that you used to listen to when you lived there? I have. I've had a few of them actually. Anyway, I was driving around the old neighbourhood in a gentle summer rain and Flock of Seagulls came on the radio. At some point during that song, Foxy fell asleep. Gotta tell you, those were the best days of my childhood and now Foxy can enjoy the same experience.

I'm not sure if this also indicates she is my daughter, but this morning she woke up at her usual hour, and very quietly tried to dismount her crib. Usually she fusses and all, but this time I guess she didn't want to wake us. She didn't stick the landing, but the difficulty score must have been pretty high. Luckily she landed on our bed mattress, unluckily she used her face. I guess that damn crib is no good now. She only used it for about a month. I'll probably have to turn it into a bed soon.

Foxy 1 : Nappy 0

2008-08-11T14:00:00.002-04:00

We had a one-in-200-year event as the insurance guys say. It was time for dinner. I came out of the den and in the dim light I noticed something small and possibly orange on the carpet. I assumed it was one of the many nasty silicone jellies that Ali insisted on bringing back from Japan. These are nasty because they are as my friend Calvin's mom used to say in her Ipoh accent, "Kiut kiut no use". They are also nasty because Foxy can grab them, rip them apart and ingest little bits of silicone almost at her whim. We can't have these things on the floor. Instinctively, I pinched it and picked it up. As soon as I did that, I realized it wasn't a jelly.

At first I thought it might be a wayward bit of baby food that she set free rather than eat. I held it to my nose. Indeed it was a bit of food she had set free, only she had eaten it first. Immediately, I looked to see where Foxy was. She was, as usual trying to push through the baby gate into the kitchen. Futile. Between her and me was the faux persian. I carefully scanned the rug to see if there were any more bits. None. Whew!

I called to Ali in the kitchen and told her that Foxy had pooed. She didn't believe me at first. How could I invent such a story about a toddler dropping a deuce at random? As if, right? No baby has ever done that. I encouraged Ali to survey the area outside the kitchen to see if there could possibly be any more. Sure enough. Ali freaked. Fortunately, there were only two and they didn't smudge the carpet. The rest was in Foxy's pants.

Without even thinking, we put emergency procedure number 7 into action. I jumped in the tub, ready to receive the fudgy baby, of course now bawling because of Ali's reaction to the discovery. I washed the baby, Ali washed the baby's clothes. Crisis averted. We should probably move a size up on the nappies. Only we bought an extra 200 case because we had a coupon. Ali's a bargain hunter. We've still got almost a quarter of that box left and Ali wants to get her money's worth.

Randy's Cat and an Apology

2008-08-06T14:59:00.004-04:00

Busy morning already. I had an appointment with the insurance company so we could do a side by side comparison of the damage Pepper suffered back in June. The results were inconclusive, so I took the time to introduce myself to my neighbour - whom I have previously referred to as a douchebag - and apologize for all the trouble. Turns out he's a nice kid. Soft spoken, new here from Iowa and a little upset about not having peace of mind. Apparently the insurance company wouldn't even tell him who made the claim against him. We talked a little bit and I could tell right away that he was not happy. He explained that had he known/if he hit my vehicle he would have left a note. I didn't say it, but I think he knew that the insurance company had told me not to contact him directly. He was relieved and happy that his insurance wasn't going to cost another arm. Long and short, it's still considered a hit and run and it will cost me $300 to get fixed. Maybe I'll wait on that.

While I was waiting for the car to be looked at, I called Randy to tell him about the free passes we received in lieu of the Amal screening. There were some changes that I felt were important. His voice mail said that he'd be out of town for another week. Holy Shit! I gagged on my Starbucks. I hadn't checked his place since Sunday. The cat needed food and stuff.

In between the handholding with my neighbour and booking Ali's tickets for the Backstreet Boys in Atlantic City, I jumped in the car and booked it to Washington Heights. Randy's place was a mess. The cat was not happy and had wrecked the place. I replaced the water and the food and then checked on the animal. It was shy as always, but it did respond. Whew, it was still alive.

When we were camping, the running joke was that Bobby was a cat murderer because he was the last person to see his boss' cat alive when he house sat for him. Of course, not everybody felt it was a joke but they didn't want to face the facts about this particular cat. Anyway, we couldn't have two cat murderers in the family. Bobby's boss' daughter would never let it go.

Done Done and Done

2008-08-05T22:24:00.006-04:00

Well, that's that I guess. I'm out of Canal St. and looking for a new job, but I'm also enjoying myself in the meantime. There wasn't much I could do in the end after a friend of the managing partner said she could do my job for free. My value was essentially zero at that moment. She later confided in me that she probably couldn't do it, but it was too late by then.

We planned for a farewell party, a small get together at a karaoke bar but it didn't happen because I had other plans. I was a little resentful that I would be missing a chance to sing some old favourites. My other plans were to go see Amal, a nice Hindi movie that sounded promising, starring Naseeruddin Shah as an eccentric wealthy man who discovers that he has only a few days to live and wants to find the most deserving heir in Calcutta the cesspool. Don't get me wrong. I've met some fine, very upstanding people from Calcutta. That's just how the promo scrip described it. The director, Richie Mehta or "Rishi" as the emcees would call him would be in attendance, quizzically still sporting a Veterans' Day poppy.

Also in attendance, unfortunately, would be an old classmate from high school. This particular classmate would be the first and so far the only one to go to prison. He beat some dude to death with a piece of rebar ostensibly due to a fight over crack. The last guy you would want to meet anywhere, let alone a soon-to-be darkened movie theatre. I'd see him panhandling every now and then, ever since I moved back to Newark. He'd call me Bobby. I'd try to look past him but he knew by the way I made eye contact that we knew each other. The guy was psycho in high school. I won't get into it, but it's so obvious in hindsight. So the other night, Randy and I walk into the theatre and before we even get in the door, the psycho has us scoped out. His recon is phenomenal. I guess that's a good skill to learn in prison. That way, nobody shivs you from behind. Anyway, he calls out "Bobby!" I grin because he's going to act like he's my best friend in the world and he can't even remember my name. He slaps me on the back as I brush past him, putting myself between him and Randy, and go to the end of the queue. When we got out of earshot, I told Randy that under no circumstances were we going to sit next to that guy. It looked like life was looking up for him actually, but then I dismissed it as the benefits of a life of crime. Later on his date showed up. I felt bad for her. She looked like a girl we went to school with. She must have known. He must have told her. I think it's one of the twelve steps. He didn't tell me, and even I knew. This is not a hard thing to find out. Pretty much guaranteed, you bash a guy's head in because you're in a crack house and you're so high on drugs that you think someone is trying to rob you - and you're stupid enough to get caught because you think you can lie your way out of it just like everything else - your trial is going to be covered at least by a stringer. You might not make the evening news, but the media are going to tell. Either way, she should eventually find out. I really wanted to tell her, but I guess even drug-addled vagrant psycho killers have a right to privacy after they've served their sentence. Label me a democrat.

That was all soon forgotten as the film started to roll. Close up of Naseeruddin Shah slumped over and sort of bumping up and down. Silence. Artistic effect I thought. Then someone front row left yelled "Sound!". Sitar music cut in and credits began to roll and I thought the film was going well so far. Then the film cut. A very embarrassed Richie Mehta got up in front of the audience and said that something was wrong with the audio. About ten minutes later the film started again. This time, Shah narrated from the beginning in English a little about the backstory. As the scene changed we were treated to Hindi dialogue. I still didn't see anything wrong with that. Just another Sunday afternoon for me. About two minutes into that scene, Mehta leapt to the front of the theatre and told the projectionist to stop the film. The distribution company had sent the wrong print. There were no subtitles. Mehta offered to act the movie line for line scene for scene, but said it wouldn't do the story justice. After some debate over how to proceed, he offered free passes to everyone who left tonight and came back to another screening. Randy and I took the offer, but a fair amount of viewers stayed. There were a lot of Hindi speakers there.

It was quite comical. I could just imagine how Mehta felt. He really kept his composure, although he did refer to the distribution compamy as a bunch of idiots. He had done the subtitles personally, and felt that the viewer needed to understand everything so that the little nuances could be caught. Mehta was very, very apologetic but I think the audience was very forgiving. Afterall, it was a freebie and mistakes happen to everyone.

Randy and I hit a nearby pizza joint and cursed the restaurant for making Newcastle Brown the special on another night. I had my first Kilkenny, and was pleasantly surprised at how smooth it was. It wasn't watered down, it came straight from a can but that cream ale is extremely smooth. Then I had a Lowenbrau and silently reminisced about my first Lowenbrau tallboy last summer and the film festival that went with it. Randy and I talked about stuff, the waitress fawned over us because I complained pointed out a slight discrepancy between the volume of the Kilkenny can and the promotional material provided by the restaurant.

Ekaterina came and picked us up in her and Randy's new car. We went out for coffee and talked about Kat quitting her job and then we were kicked out and they drove me home.

The next day, Ali and Foxy and I all piled into the car and took Pepper camping in Maine with Bobby, his boss and his family and four exchange students. Overall, given it was a new venue for all of us, and it was Foxy's first camping trip it went pretty well. Nobody lost any fingers or lost any toes. Nobody came home with ticks, except maybe the dogs so it was very nice and we look forward to it again next year.

The Dark Knight

2008-07-23T01:24:00.006-04:00

As I've said before, I'm not big on comic book-based movies so I wasn't really planning to go see the new Batman flick starring Christian Bale, Heath Ledger and straight from his disappointing finish (not first) at the Mazda Long Beach Pro-Am Celebrity Challenge or whatever they call it William Fichtner. Who? Yeah, that's right. Fichtner. Most recently of the once-awesome television series Prison Break, but some people might remember him, like me, from As the World Turns back when the soap censors were less prudish - way less.

So about this movie. Long, and not in a good way. I figure they could have told the story better in about an hour to an hour and a half. But then I've never read the umm... comic so I wouldn't really know which parts to leave out. I'm just saying that as a viewer, I prefer movies to be between 93 and 136 minutes. I sat through Ghandi because frankly I was too young to leave the theatre and try to find my way home, and because it was about something THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. And if I remember correctly, that screening came with an intermission.

What can I say? Randy and Katerina invited me out to see the movie so I went. I really liked Ledger's Joker, and Bale's Batman. Bale could lose the vocal thingy he does when he appears as Batman. Not sounding good. I especially liked the way they ripped off the Iron Man workshop/laboratory thing. Maybe it was the other way around. I don't care, I just like how they recycled ideas. Speaking of Bale, he's having a wee problem with his mummy lately, at least I think it's with his mum. Sounds like they have some family issues to work through there, and if my hunch is correct, it'll all get a little ugly over the next few months, but it won't get much press.

My boss and I had a little talk a few weeks ago, right before he disappeared for a week and a half, and the result of the chat is that I'm out. Honestly, the company is so screwed now. Not because I'm leaving, because of other things. The way it's playing out so far just makes me want to get away as far as possible from this enterprise. I lost my best girl, and she left because she had had enough of the chaos. I tried to help her with job leads and stuff, but that didn't really work out. She found another gig doing pretty much the same thing, but she'll be working for somebody she can actually get along with so that's probably a good thing. Last anybody heard, she headed to California to do an album before she starts her new job. I miss her already.

So my recruiter, the one who got me this gem in the first place, the one who got a very nice little something from me for Hanukkah has quit her job to take some time off. That's very nice. She deserves it. Really. Only love. It's just going to be a little more difficult for me now having to work from the ground up with her successor. And that's going to be a chore. I could tell from the moment I met her. She called to introduce herself and told me to come by her office anytime, just call ahead first and give a ballpark time. I did. When she met me, she acted all in a rush like, and get this - she gives me the once over before I even leave the room. She's got to work on her poker face and her cues a little, or maybe a lot. So far, she's got nothing for me.

Fugu, Flowers and Fags

2008-07-02T00:07:00.016-04:00

Here we go. I didn't want to do this this way, but let's just say that things that were important to other people kept coming up. The next sections will be a day to day account of my most recent trip to Japan, and believe me it was all a lot more interesting as it was happening, not as I bash it out on this laptop now. Overall impressions: Apart from a slight annoyance with a tick, Japan was much better than last year. Japan was ready for me this time. It is my last day here, and I'll be typing like mad, on a Japanese keyboard no less, trying to spit it all out before the plane trip back to Jersey. Movie stuff out of the way first: Ali received a flyer or a pass or something to go see the Japanese premiere of Speed Racer starring Emile Hirsch, John Goodman and Matthew Fox, who my hairdresser supposedly gave me the same hair style as. At least now I know whom she thinks about when she uses that vibrator I got her for Christmas. Thanks for the pass, but we're going to pass. Opens July 5, so we won't be here anyway.
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I pledged. But that was about it. I did train for a few days at the beginning of the trip, but then I came down with a bit of a cold and thought I should probably rest. Rewind a bit to the very beginning - Ali wanted to take a taxi to the airport. I didn't because they are often unreliable. Guess who won that argument. So we're in the taxi after waiting for 45 minutes and calling two different companies. I'm not going to try and flag one down on the street for a trip to the airport. I fancied calling a livery service, but Ali reminded me not to overcomplicate things. We get to the airport and got priority screening. Not quite the same as priority boarding, but hey you don't get if you don't ask. That was all ruined very quickly by a very old man with OCD who may have possibly lost his keys. Homeland Security should have been on his ass, but I guess there were more pressing issues to take care of.

The flight was totally uneventful, except for an overly bitchy flight attendant who didn't have a sense of humour. Who knew asking for a gin martini would stir such emotion? British Airways material you are not, ma'am and you never will be with that attitude. Foxy was well behaved, and take off and landing were no problem for her at all. Ashi, f.k.a. Genya Number Two got us home eventually. I shaved, walked the dog and went to bed.

As I was walking the dog, it occurred to me that urban sprawl is not such a bad thing. We could go the other way and cram everybody into a really small area like Japan and see how long we enjoy that. I can't even take a pee break without the neighbours having a gawk.
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Foxy couldn't sleep so we went out at 4:00 in the morning to check out the neighbourhood. We watched telly on some vending machines, checked out the hospital and went to 7-11. I bought some oolong tea because it allegedly promotes weight loss.

Later that day, we went to visit Ali's grandmother, the one who doesn't hate white people, which is not what I thought at first. Still waiting to meet that one. Apparently, she's too busy. We got to meet Ali's aunt and cousin, not the hot one. Ali's grandfather had gone out for the day and nobody knew where he was, nor were they concerned. For a man his age, I would have been concerned. Grandma came for a walk and did some grocery shopping with us, which is nice. At least she's still got some kick. Foxy and I were still fighting jet lag so it was an early night for us.
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We went to Chiyoda to visit some friends of Ali. I had some really good donburi in a sweet restaurant on the sixth floor of an office building. Textured concrete walls, floor lighting, separate rooms for separate parties. Well done. Afterward, in the lobby, I reached into the tote bag on the baby stroller for my tea and was about to take a swig when a guy twice my size asked if he could have some. At least that's what I thought he said. It turned out though, that he was quite happy about his weight, but very unhappy that I was taking in fluids in the lobby. He told me I should do it outside. What a strange man.

We went to a nearby Tully's with Ali's Sandra Oh lookalike friend, only still hot. We discussed baby names for her kid. She didn't want to give details so we changed the topic to living in Chiyoda. I could actually handle living in Chiyoda, or Toyosu or one of the other neighbourhoods that are halfway decent.

I could feel a cold coming on so for dinner we ate fugu - sort of. Ali's dad noticed my sniffles and declared that he would cure all my ills with a little cocktail made from shochu and fugu fins. This is the same thing he offered me last year in Toyosu, but didn't trust him enough to try and what's more, he wouldn't have any either. And then more alcohol. Apparently that's good for a head cold.
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A day off. Ali's dad figured it would be a good time for more cold remedies seeing as how the fugu fins didn't work. I was starting to worry. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had not been vaccinated lately against Japanese encephalitis, or mumps or any of the creepy crawlies they have around here.

Ali's dad offered me some powders that I'm pretty sure the FDA has banned back home. We went to the baby store to get some stuff for Foxy and I couldn't take two steps without stumbling. I was flat on my back for the rest of the day.

By the way, whoever said that Japan has a declining birth rate apparently never took the opportunity to visit a suburban mall. A mall here is like a great big giant daycare. Nothing wrong with that, I was just amazed at how young some of these mothers were, already working on their second or third kid.

What the hell are these? I've never seen these flowers before and would like to know.

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A couple of Ali's friends who were in New York at the same time she was came by for lunch. It had been a long day already. Foxy and I were still fighting jet lag. Good food, good times.
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Ali's dad made some arrangements for us to stay at the home of one of his "business club" buddies in Kamakura. We checked out some Buddhist temples. Ali found the god of accounting in some caves. Sculpted into the wall. Can't be much more of a wallflower than that. Probably socially awkward. Due to a parking dispute with the world's snippiest hunchback dwarf, we had to make quick work of the sightseeing while Ashi double parked in the street.

Found her! We decided go for a "light lunch", and there she was - seating customers at the local Denny's. I'm not sure how I feel about that. She said hello. I said good bye. It was all very anticlimactic, but I finally got closure. She looked awesome. Ten years looked like nothing on her. Oh, and Denny's? The only place we went that had high chairs with belts. Everywhere else was like a bring-your-own-belt kind of place. I've noticed that Japan needs to work on it's public safety. There are numerous examples, but the relevant one in this case is that high chairs need restraints. High chairs without belts are like chocolate teapots - useless.

We had some sweet digs. Japanese style baths, but no hotsprings. Sauna, nice gardens, and rooms. Got to hang out a little with Ashi. He's actually a nice guy, but he doesn't speak any English. It was raining pretty bad so everybody hopped in the baths and waited for dinner. I weighed myself - 76.4 kilos. Nice.

Great food, but Ali's dad did that annoying thing where he asks me if I want more beer, then opens a large bottle and refuses to partake. I had to drink it all myself. He knows Ali does not approve.
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Foxy still couldn't sleep so we went to the beach while Ashi hung out at the house. People were surfing at 6:00 a.m. Nice. The beach was a little garbage-y, but that was my only complaint. No Nutella nappies that I could see, just bottles and cans barfed up by the sea.

We snapped some pics, and when Foxy had settled down we went back to the house for some breakfast. It was the first time I ever had buffet in somebody's house where it wasn't catered. We checked out some more Buddhist shrines, Oneshima Observatory, and had donburi katsudon for lunch. Then it was time for more shopping - my mother-in-law's favourite activity.

I'm not sure, but I think I made out with my mother-in-law. She bought a blue potato soft serve and helped herself. She told me to open wide. I didn't think she'd do it, I honestly didn't. She shoved the rest down my throat. Blue potato ice cream is actually pretty good. We did some more shopping and eventually it came time for Ashi to take us to the Tokyo flat. A chance to see my sister-in-law once again. What fun.

On the way back from Kamakura, the GPS system spazzed and kept telling Ashi to take a road that didn't exist. We gave him a challenge on top of the one he was already dealing with. Our special challenge - avoid all tolls on the way back to the flat. It took him about three hours, but he did it. He dropped us at the flat and took Ali's mum back to the compound. Dinner at Hotto Motto. The next time we saw Ashi, he had a brand new GPS.
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No Ashi today, but we made it to Tokyo Disneyland by noon. 25 years old and still sucking hard. I'm always amazed at what some people think is appropriate attire for a family theme park. We stayed for the night parade because we just had to, and Foxy got sick again.

Ali's mum made a surprise visit. Apparently nobody likes Disney more than her, and this whole time I thought Ali was the freak. Foxy got a Winnie the Pooh balloon, and seemed to warm up to Grandpa quite a bit.

We went back to the flat. Ali was stuffed from overpriced popcorn, so my father-in-law and I went for italian to the same place we went last year. Seafood pizza (for the second time that day) and a simple bacon and onion spaghetti plus six-dollar bread we didn't order. The restaurant was a little too cigarette-y for my taste, so we left.
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Imperial Palace. Meh. I liked it better from outside the grounds. The public half is filled with nice green spaces and gardens and proves to be a bit of a hike. Nice! You're right in the middle of Tokyo and you wouldn't even know it.

Later that night, in reference to our visit to the Imperial Residence Ali's dad would make some comments, which if taken in the worst way possible would probably amount to treason. Except that the comments were about the last emperor, not the current one, and he's dead and nobody really cares about the current one anyway.

We went down to Ginza to see my friend Yumi. I wanted to go back to the Tully's we went to last year, but that Tully's, our Tully's has shut. I suggested Doutor, slightly wincing and then repeated something Ali said to me on the way to meet Yumi, "That Doutor is expensive", motioning to their flagship cafe in 4-chome. For the next ten minutes Yumi and Ali made cheap jokes about me when really they should have been about someone else...

Japanese coffee can last for hours. We went three. We had a lot of good conversation, and I think Ali finally accepted one of my female friends. I had a brown sugar latte or something. This drink should come with it's own dentist and/or insulin shot. A lot of auxiliary water was required. By the time we left there it was dark. We had forgotten souvenirs for Yumi's nephews. She was jazzed about starting a new job, but sad about Prison Break being cancelled. We said our goodbyes and off she walked into the darkness still (I would assume) with the best tush this side of Turin.
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Day off at the compound. I took the time to write some postcards and later my father-in-law took me to the Keirin track to do some betting. I didn't know much about it, so I checked it out on Wikipedia. The training program for Keirin reminds me of the animated film The Triplets of Belleville, and Keirin itself is referenced in Kikujiro. My father-in-law walked away about a thousand bucks richer.

I suppose even if you're Sean Lennon, you have to grow up and get a job one day. He's over here repping for Honda's new model. Saving the world one celebrity-endorsed green product at a time. It could be worse I suppose. It could be Hilary Duff shilling some really gay looking cell phones.
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Road trip! First, a little bit of overlap to the previous post about Foxy's trip to see the doctor. Then onwards. Ashi didn't come with us today. He was dispatched to deal with the gardener pretty damn quick. I didn't get the whole conversation, but it was something about the hedge along the east wall being a little short. It was making the whole hedge look a little wonky. I took Foxy to the doctor. Three steps outside the pharmacy were cigarette machines where I bought these fags for Bobby: I think Camel might be on to something here. I've talked to a lot of smokers in my life, and the one thing they say they can never get enough of in their daily drag is nutty menthol. Some I spoke to said that they had started out using just plain menthol cigarettes but that they were now, then, craving something to go with that menthol flavour and the consensus was nuts. I'm pretty certain that Bobby will throw away nineteen of these cigarettes. I just want to see him try one.

We rolled in to Mashiko, in Tochigi prefecture in the early afternoon. It's about ten miles outside of Motegi, site of Danica Patrick's first, and so far only IRL victory. Just in case you're interested in stuff like that. We checked into the hotel and went for a tour of the town.

"Geez!", I thought to myself. I got the impression that Mashiko is probably the Quincy, California of Tochigi. Flashbacks of that ill-fated road trip to Nevada and ticks for some reason. Goosebumps. I figured it was a bad sign when the hotel clerk couldn't think of a kombini close by. What? They're everywhere. Apparently not in Mashiko.

Back to the hotel for a quick dip in the rotemburo before dinner. I'm still new at this so I need an onsen buddy. Sounds pretty gay, I know but before I could even get my boots off, my buddy was gone. Emphasis on quick dip. If you're the kind of person who is self-conscious about walking around a hotel in your robe, then this is not the place for you.

We took dinner at 6:00. Good food. By 7:30, we were at the clinic looking for a doctor. Foxy had another fever, and Ali didn't think Tylenol was going to take care of it this time. Emo hotel clerk turned into Emo ashi and drove us up a very windy road to the top of a mountain where the clinic was. Makes sense... I guess. Inside, the doctor at first disavowed any responsibility for infants and recommended we go to another hospital. But the night nurse came in and took control. And by control I mean she first asked for my address so that she knew where to send the bill and then she attended to Foxy. And then out of nowhere came another doctor who just popped in and wasn't actually on duty. What a guy! He did a quick check and relayed to my wife that it wasn't glandular so it probably wasn't meningitis. Thank you sir, but please don't tell me what it is not, rather what it IS that is making my baby sick.

The nurse told Ali that she needed both parents' consent for the next step, and we assented. Thirty seconds and one anal suppository later and it was all over. Back in the van to the hotel. Oh, and the bill? The doctor laughed and dismissed me in that international way and told me that the billing department was closed, but that it won't be so much. If I don't pay, it's not like they can collect anyway. Back at the hotel, I went to the onsen by myself.
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It's 7:30 in the morning and I'm sitting outside naked in the rotemburo listening to some rather calming music, thinking about how nice things can be in Japan. A rather weak version of Amazing Grace on violin starts and then cuts out abruptly as the waterfall begins for the first time this morning. Ahh. Again, all by myself. Nobody wants to sit in the onsen with the foreigner and his big dango balls. Life is good. It's the little things about Japan that make it what it is. I weighed myself - 98.5 89.5 kilos. Sonofabitch!

Breakfast. Pack. Clear out safe. Checkout. Foxy was feeling better, but the car ride did not look promising. Just inside Ibaraki, she had a meltdown. We stopped and bought some goodies, including a soda pop that has a marble in the bottle. WTF!? Just when you need the drink the most, the little marble comes down and blocks the bottleneck. Damn! Eventually, I finished and Foxy had a new rattle that she promptly dumped as soon as we got back in the car. We went back to the compound and later that night I watched Terminator which is even better in Japanese because you don't have to listen to Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice. It's dubbed.
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We went around to Nakano and hung out with some of Ali's friends. One is married to an ex-pat and he's been living in Japan for almost five years. He's got a nice house, 1.5 kids, a car and he nearly had me sold on the whole moving to Japan thing. Nearly. He said he'd give it all up for a decent tube of toothpaste. Yup, toothpaste. There's a lot of good reasons to stay here and a lot of bad ones, such as: adequate dental care. Of which he says there isn't any. And then there was his respiratory condition. Possibly not Japan-related, but I don't want that to happen to me or my kid. This is one of those situations where I want to eat my cake and have it too. Technically, living in Japan and being back home are mutually exclusive opportunities, unless I want to be sneaky. I think Foxy's best chance is to be back in New Jersey. It comes down to one thing: ticks, really. I hate ticks. I hate all disease-carrying parasites, but ticks seem to be getting a free ride in Japan. Nobody here seems to have heard of Lyme Disease, or cares enough to get rid of the things; which, in fairness as far as I know, are not the type to carry Lyme Disease. They do however carry other bacteria that cause various fevers. I don't have to settle for it in Newark, and I won't settle for it in Tokyo. Besides, why should I deprive my daughter of the awesomeness of being American?

I actually had one land on my chest yesterday as we were leaving the compound. I shit bricks and when Ali's mum asked me what was wrong, Ali had the nerve to say in Japanese, "It's not a tick" after I specifically said that it was. I flicked it outside, but that did nothing to address the larger problem. Makes me feel sad for the gardener. Came back from Nakano and ate sashimi and onion rings, and watched Mao Asada on the telly.

One of my least favourite things about Japanese television is the overabundance of one-trick ponies. For example, there's a guy whose only schtick is to contort his face every time he says a certain syllable. He's one of the innumerable celebrities in Japan who make you ask yourself how much pole they had to smoke to get that gig. I've got more talent than that guy. In fact, I've started writing material for a manzai act that Ali wants to do together. More on why that probably will never see the light of day below. Forget me, there are several people I saw last year who have disappeared from the spotlight because their talents, presumably aren't as good as this guy's. But that's the killer. They are better, way better.
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Ali was feeling feverish, possibly from a tick bite (Do I fixate or what?) so we bailed on some more of her friends. It's okay, the only one she wanted to see was also feeling sick. We'd catch her the next day anyway.

I settled in for a nice, easy day at the computer and quickly tired of it. My father-in-law took me to one of his favourite cheap restaurants called Gusto. It was jammed full of school kids who should have been in class in my opinion. But they weren't and I think I know why my father-in-law likes this restaurant, and it's not the food. Gusto Coke - not the same as American Coke.

We came back, expecting to visit more relatives, but Ali had other plans. In her best I'm-not-telling-you-not-to-come-I'm-just-telling-you-that-you'll-be-bored voice, she talked me out of visiting more relatives, in particular the hot cousin.
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We went to Kaminarimon to see Ali's friend who we missed the day before. We did some souvenir shopping for the folks back home, went and saw some quirky museum in Kappabasho, and then Ali's friend decided to show me a strip club. Sixty bucks just to get in, and there's no alcohol so that explains the cover. We didn't go in - no way I'm gonna pay sixty bucks to see some tired old titties. Got some photos of whale meat in a can for Randy because he finds that stuff funny. Couldn't buy any though, the shop was closed. Actually taking whale meat back home for Randy would have been hilarious.

We went for lunch at Tempura Sansada, reputedly the best tempura restaurant in the neighbourhood. So-so I guess. Then we went for coffee in a little place that I think originally was constructed as simply a landing for the staircase between the floors above and below this cafe. But hey, what do I know? Ali got her fortune done at Kaminarimon, which I knew was a bad idea, but you can't really stop her from doing anything. So for the rest of the afternoon I had to hear about how her fortune says that she's with the wrong guy and blah, blah, blah. On the way back to the compound I explained to her why I probably won't be moving to Japan any time soon (or more likely ever), and put it in such a way that she quit her yammering.
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And there it is. My latest trip to Japan. Off to catch a plane.

I Love Subsidsized Healthcare

2008-06-26T21:33:00.004-04:00

When it works. And it works beautifully in Japan. I'm not sure exactly how it's subsidized and who pays for what, but it must be. Foxy had a touch of something after coming home from Tokyo Disney. We reckoned it was a cold. Grandpa had it too because they both got caught without their coats when Ali wanted to see the Disney Light Parade or whatever it's called, and the wind was ablowing.

Anyway, we trundled Foxy out of the compound and down the street to the hospital. Total wait time - 20 minutes. It's a take-a-number system and it's a bit dodgy and bureaucratic in that Japanese way but when in Rome... Total consultation time - 10 minutes. Problem: Foxy's name does not register in the system. Dr. Tanaka looks up and gets a wink and nod from Ali's dad. Problem disappears. Wow - that man is powerful. The doctor hands Ali a prescripton and it's off to the payment queue we go. Total consult cost - less than 20 bucks. Ali says the drugs are going to cost more. Always confused me that one. Labour is almost always the biggest direct cost of any process. You'd think the doctor cost more than a few pills. And I'm sure he does - that's where the subsidy comes in.

For some reason, the hospital won't fill our scrip and sends us across the street. I ask Ali why, and all she can say is that it's different. At first I put it down to the insurance thing, but it's probably more like the pharmacy in the hospital is stocked with narcotics and stuff that Foxy doesn't need.

Off we go to the pharmacy. Total time including consult - 20 minutes. Total cost... 20 bucks. What? That's not even going to cover my deductible if I claim it on my medical insurance. I guess it would add up if you had say, three kids and they all got sick more than once a year.

In the end I guess technically we cheated the system, but if this is the way it works, then I wouldn't mind kicking in a little every year when if we ever move back here. As long as Foxy is healthy, I'd gladly pay.

Back in the Saddle

2008-06-17T19:12:00.004-04:00

We're back in Tokyo now. Gasoline is about 180 yen per litre (180 x 3.71 = about $7.00 a gallon), and the morning show I chose to watch this morning did a story about how nobody is buying gas and nobody is going to restaurants. There were still an awful lot of cars on the road when they did their story so the gas is being bought somewhere. My neighbour runs his Mercedes Diesel on canola oil. I think he's a bit of a douchebag and I've got Genya keeping a close eye on him in case he tries anything when I'm away, but I have to give him credit for the canola thing. It would be even better if it were recycled canola oil. I don't know if it is. Things have soured. We don't talk. Our lawyers talk to each other.

I figured Foxy would scream blue murder when we tried to land at Narita, but she was fine. We could tell she was in pain, she would wince every few minutes but apparently she has Eustachian tubes made of steel. I'm still trying to sort out my right ear. The pressure goes all the way down my neck to my collar bone. There's something wrong there. Even two years of medical school taught me that. Ali warned me that the climate here would be "humid like hell". I've never really thought of Hell as being humid, but then again I've never given much thought to Hell. It's not too humid at all, but then Ali told me to wait until it rains. The temperature is a balmy high-teens low-twenties at 4:00 in the morning and it promises to warm up as we head closer to noon.

I sliced my finger open on my wedding ring at the airport when I grabbed the luggage off the carousel. It wasn't too bad, but now I think it's getting infected. On the way home, the chauffeur nearly had an accident when a landscaping truck bolted out into traffic across our lane. Thank you chauffeur for installing the baby seat. He quickly recovered and said, "My technique... In forty years of driving, I've never had an accident". I tried to lighten up the situation and said, "In two years, I've never had an accident". Everybody think the bearded white savage so funny! I could tell by the look on my mother-in-law's face at the airport that she wasn't a fan of the beard. She refused to take any pictures of me with the baby.

Foxy was up at 2:30 this morning. We discovered last night that Foxy is not a fan of real Japanese ofuro, or bath. She was crabby from jetlag. So after a power negotiation this morning, we caved and I decided to take her for a walk. We walked down to the playground (which apparently is a tick haven I found out later), and then we walked around the hospital, and watched television on some vending machines. Then we walked to 7-11 and looked at all the yummy things we aren't going to eat this time around. She loved it. Wonderful weather. However, even at 4:30 in the morning, there is no shortage of disgusted looks for the dirty foreigner. We came back to the compound at about 5:15, and had a nice breakfast.

Foxy is still scared shitless by Grandpa, and isn't too thrilled about Grandma but she'll settle in soon enough. I pledged that this time around I was going to be a better son-in-law and I'm trying to remember why I was such an asshole last year. Honestly, it's easy to be good in a place like this. But it helps when your father-in-law has friends like the ones mine has. My wax guy gave me some good advice. When he was in a hetero relationship, things were pretty bad but he had ways to deal with it. Eventually though, he had to leave. It wasn't healthy.

We're going to visit Ali's grandmother today, the one that hates all white people. It should be fun. One of Ali's friends got her daughter on a national magazine cover. Now Foxy is jealous, and she tries to rip apart the magazine any time we put it in front of her.

Hanamizu Tareko

2008-06-14T13:36:00.004-04:00

Loosely translated it means Snotrocket Girl. Is this the name that a loving mother gives to her daughter? If that mother's name is Ali, then yes. Foxy has her first cold, and it's quite scary for us. Foxy is the first, so everything is new and we always worry about her. We can't give her anything other than infant Tylenol, and Ali won't even do that. Last night she actually slept without any coughing fits. It's getting better, but now Foxy constantly has a runny nose. Doctor says she's okay to fly. Yippee.

No movies lately. Maybe I'll do shadow reviews of the movies I'm going to miss while I'm away.

We Had Fun, Didn't We?

2008-06-14T13:06:00.004-04:00

We wrapped up our year-end really quick, and the next day my boss announced that we were moving stock to a new warehouse and closing the office. We are going to all work out of our flagship café that has a small closet office in the back which until now had been used somewhat successfully by 1 person. We are now going to be 3. My boss, who takes no salary because the other shareholders told him to stop wasting the company's money and not because he's the kind of magnanimous person who just works for free, now feels that the rest of the office staff should do the same. He knows that it doesn't work that way, but he just refuses to accept it. On top of that, there's somebody waiting in the wings who is willing to do my job for free, so my value becomes zero. Just to add to that, my boss gives no credence to my skills. He respects me as a person, I guess, but as an employee I get nothing. So when I come back from Japan, there will be no office left and I'll be on part-time hours looking for a new job, trying to support my family and secretly willing the café to fail.

An old co-worker dropped in last week looking for Bob and mentioned that he might have some work for me. I asked for an elaboration, and even though it pays really well doing community work, it also involves living in a stone hovel, eating guinea pig and drinking coca tea for most of the year. How could Ali refuse?

Good Things About Japan

2008-06-01T13:40:00.006-04:00

Everywhere is relatively close. Depending how you go, you could probably get anywhere in Japan within 24 hours. Unless you take the slow train to Hokkaido. That's the only contrary example I can think of. But on that train, half the journey is getting there. Oh, and the ferry from Niigata to Hokkaido. That takes a few days too.

Cheap beer. Or rather, comparably-priced very accessible beer. Higher-priced stores like 7-11 were selling pint cans for 330 yen last year in Kyoto. That's about the same as we were selling here, but they were selling better beer and it's so easy to get. You can even drink it on the pavement, and on the trains if you behave yourself. Let me tell you though, drinking and walking at the same time is very overrated.

Kawachi Yamaya. a "grocery store" that uses about 50% of it's store space to sell cheap spirits. The stuff is only slightly cheaper, but much easier to find and much more available. I like this store.

Greenery. Some people say that there is not enough greenspace in Tokyo. I guess it all depends on where you come from. I would say that there is more than I expected, but what I like is that the flowers and shrubs tend to be different types than what we find here. Makes sense actually.

MOS Burger. I read somewhere that the closest MOS Burger is in Hawaii. But I've also heard that it closed down. I would like to eat MOS Burger again when we go next. Generally, food. A lot of people make jokes about Japanese food and how silly some of the products can be. In Tokyo, I could eat Indian food five times a day seven days straight if I wanted, each time at a different place but all equally near to my Tokyo base. Or I could eat a different kind of meal just as often. There are restaurants everywhere, but I'm not limited to pizza, chinese, and subs. I can get whatever I want, and the quality is way better. And that's why I came back from Japan fatter than I've ever been.

No cellphone zones. I'm one of those people that fantasize about punching cellphone drivers in the throat. I have a cell phone, but I use it only at long reds, or I'll pull onto the verge. Using a cell phone while driving in Japan is actually illegal. Ha ha aha. Not so simple, right? It's a matter of enforcement. Since I don't drive in Japan yet, it doesn't really concern me. What I like though, is that they have sections of train designated for cell phone users. If you are on the train, and your friend calls you to talk about this really awesome pair of blue jeans they just bought at Uniqlo real cheap then you are expected to remove yourself from the vicinity of other passengers' ears and go to the end of the car where there is a designated area for cellphone yakkers. Even if you're just messaging. It's awesome. It's like taking a time out in the corner, like that hyperactive kid in grade school who was always setting the reading mat on fire.

And almost everyone abides. I say almost because even Japan has those people - you know the ones - the ones who think that the courtesy reminders are meant for everyone else and not them because they're special and already soooo courteous. Like my father-in-law. I'm fine with that because at the time it was late (not really excusable), his daughter was in labour, and he doesn't normally ride the train with plebs so it's quite imaginable that he's not aware of the courtesy, and he just might have not seen the fifty placards requesting cell phone gags.

What I Hate About Japan and Things to Work On

2008-05-24T13:25:00.007-04:00

We're at that point now, the really relaxing time right between "It's going to happen" and "Holy shit it's going to happen soon!" We're going back to Japan for a few weeks next month, and I'm not going to hole myself up on the estate and go stir crazy this time.

I pledge to train, and to walk the dog in the rice paddies - ticks be damned. And I pledge to go to Tokyo as often as possible because that's where most of Ali's friends live and most of my friends in Japan are there too. I pledge not to eat and eat and eat because it's the only thing interesting to do, like last time. I pledge not to drink as much as I did last time, but I will still drink a few beers as a courtesy.

I pledge to avoid Japanese television as much as possible because it has some of the silliest shows I have ever seen. I had a whole essay ready about Japanese television, but it's very random and disjointed. It's enough to say that Japanese television is generally infotainment, heavily reliant on the cult of personality and it's followers. There's good Japanese television and there's really shitty Japanese television.

A good example would be this, even though it's based entirely around the personailty: I recently caught Ali watching a show where a group of comedians sit around a table and tell stories, judged by the others whether the stories are funny. This has such a simple premise, low production cost and can be very funny. Do we have this on American television? No. For various reasons, I suppose, the biggest being a perception of self-indulgence or gossip. I would like to see this type of show here.

I talked Genya into looking after our flat while we are away. I mentioned he could bring his girlfriend over. He giggled like a little schoolboy. Not sure if it's because I'm not supposed to know about the girlfriend, or if it's because he realizes that I know what a dirty monkey he can be. Our place is much nicer than his - a two-room apartment in Brooklyn ankle deep in cigarette butts, fast food and pot noodle garbage. He doesn't even have a bed. He's got a mattress on the floor in what is supposed to be the bedroom. I'm assuming his girlfriend has never seen his apartment because I want to believe she has standards.

Sayonara Iron Man

2008-05-11T00:32:00.002-04:00

There's just too much time between these posts nowadays, I never know where to begin. I'll think of a little mot, and then forget about it by the time I sit down at the computer. May is always a bit of a problem for me. Five birthdays all in the same week. True, there's a little double counting in there. Labour Day must have been very popular with my ancestors. So it all becomes a bit of a binge (and purge), alcohol-fueled blur for me and my brother. My birthday was kept low key, as I like it but I always seem to squeeze in a little time for Bobby and a pint. He came over this year, rather late for dinner but he did have a slice of matcha cake and then off we went to the local before Ali could say no. We planned on two pints, but cut it short because the pub was a little too loud for our aging ears. On the way back to my flat, Bobby started talking to a random stranger. At least I thought she was a random stranger, but only Bobby could skulk in the worst part of town and find someone he knows from his travels. A lovely girl she was, so lovely in fact that we joined her and her friends for a pitcher of margueritas. And it so happened that her friend was also having a birthday. Unfortunately, Bobby and I felt like we were crashing the party so somewhere after the joints but before ordering we bailed. I actually used my wife as an excuse and flashed my wedding ring. I felt lame, but at my age I think you can do it in an emergency. Bobby thanked me for that on the way home - I don't know why, he's the one who stopped her, not vice versa.

The next day, Randy called and acted surprised that it was my birthday the day before. He asked me if I wanted to go see Iron Man starring Robert Downey Jr. You may have heard of it. I'm not a big comic book movie fan, but I went to see this one based almost completely on what Fireangel had to say about it. But also because Randy invited me. I'm not going to waste any time writing about this movie because everyone else has. Some people, like Fireangel, twice. I think she feels about this movie the way I feel about Layer Cake and Chinjeolhan geumjassi. Iron Man is awesome. That's all I'm going to say, except to say that awesome is an understatement. You know, if the jazzish albums didn't restart Downey's career, this movie certainly did.

The thing that really did it for me, and it won't do it for you because you weren't sitting where I was sitting, was the psychopath sitting next to me and Randy. We were late as usual, and the last two seats in the theatre were third row centre. Odd. We grabbed them, and I spent the next two hours on the edge of my seat (closest to Randy and as far away from the nutter). I was genuinely afraid. He was talking to the movie, cringing and alternatively covering his eyes, curling up into a modified fetal position, and eventually screaming at the movie. He even clapped at times, as though Tony Stark could hear him, as though his encouragement was willing Stark to succeed. And okay, we all know, or know of a person who has gone to say, a horror film and has said, or uttered something at the movie screen. I'm not talking about a 7 year old kid helplessly reaching over the balcony of the top tier to save Luke Skywalker from jumping into the carbon freezer in The Empire Strikes Back. I'm talking about a full-on crazyman who scratched and saved every penny he could to buy a ticket to see Iron Man. I think I kept an eye on him, more than I did the movie. And if you haven't been told already, stay through to the end credits. If not to see that the character Ahmed was actually played by a guy named Ahmed Ahmed, then at least to see a little surprise.

And so off we went, and as we walked around looking for a bar I saw one of my former, hot neighbours. I shouted hello, she waved enthusiastically. She had no idea who I was. Randy and I tried like four bars, all had line ups and Randy really wanted to get his drink on so I offered the possibility of going to Ali's old place of employment and throwing back a few $12.00 beers. Randy's only response was, "I thought that was a grocery store". I knew what he meant. We found a restaurant nearby that had a special on short pints, and that was good enough for Randy. We had a couple slices to go and the evening air was so nice, we sat outside. Technically illegal, I believe. We almost got a plate of honey garlic wings because the girl behind the counter confused "honey lager" with "honey garlic". Understandable, and yet in a way, ununderstandable. After we got a little chilly, we moved back inside and I explained my horrible week to Randy. He gave me some little chestnuts of advice. We had another round. Randy went to the loo, and I checked out the beer cooler. This little restaurant actually had more varieties of beer than most bars. My pint lifting arm was beginning to ache because of my new Wii. Ali, my wife who complains that I spend too much time gaming, got me a Wii for my birthday, but didn't give it to me until the day after. We spent the morning playing tennis, and by the time I went drinking my arm was sore. Amazingly, this recent bender has not affected my weight loss campaign.

A recently advertised seat sale gave me the idea to send Ali home for a visit as a Mothers' Day gift. There were a few hitches due to the whole immigration process, but by Tuesday she told me that she had been cleared to travel, and by Thursday she had my credit card in the fat hands of a travel agent. This was last minute, so last minute that I even told a few friends that it wasn't going to happen. So last minute that the return flight isn't even in the seat sale window, so we had to pay a little extra. No seat sale folks, it cost me the same to fly to Japan last year. The difference in slashed fares is only being added to the cost of fuel. The only change is that we are flying direct, whereas last year I had to transfer out of SFO and in at LAX. Free trip to Japan - sounds like a cracking Mothers' Day gift.

We had a party for Foxy this week too. Kind of ruined it for her though when I dove into the swimming pool. It scared her big. Today I bumped into one of my cooler neighbours. Never really quite knew what he did, and in my building you don't really ask because this happens. It's about that time of year isn't it? Now I know. He has a restaurant, and it's finally open. I've actually heard things about this place from my co-workers. Orange Peel has been there, and if she says it's good, you just know. It's a small world, and you can't make it much smaller than three doors down. When we can actually afford to start eating out again, we'll book a table at Ari's.

Mama

2008-04-29T23:33:00.003-04:00

First words. I never would have guessed. We were taught in school that infants tend to form palatal alveolar phonemes first. Technically, [m] is a bilabial but it is also a nasal. Nasals are very difficult and infants are not expected to form these phonemes first. Therefore, it is generally accepted that, in English at least, infants will first say [dada]. Actually, Foxy has been saying [baba] for weeks, but I refuse to accept it because we have been coaching her to say [mami] (hard) and [dada] only. I tried to explain to Ali that [mama] is easier than [mami] but she wouldn't listen.

Eventually, Foxy got around to saying [ma] repetitively, but not quite convincingly. Finally on the weekend she said it, and as usual I missed it. She said it again but we couldn't get it on camera.

Missed my chance to get free tickets to Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. That's alright, I'm finding enough amusement at home having insane arguments with Ali about stuff that only she could find a problem with. I never knew that agreeing with your spouse could result in stitches. Things at work are going full bore now, but I think one of the packers is about to get fired. She knows it, but she's lucky because the other packer is about to quit - because of her. She knows that too, and she also knows that we need one of them. I'm trying to schedule a dirt cheap vacation to Japan, but that's one of those arguments I mentioned. Again, who knew trying to do something nice for your spouse could result in torn shirts? That's a grand I'll never get back. Doesn't look like we'll have things ready before the seat sale ends either.

Would You Buy Products from this Face?

2008-04-18T22:06:00.003-04:00

I told you I had a monkey baby. We have several photos of Foxy baring her teeth, but I thought this one was very appropriate. It reminds me of the face Donkey Kong Jr. makes when Mario takes Donkey Kong away, in the old pixel version. You know the face - I know you do.

I think I mentioned how a friend offered to do us a favour by taking cheap (not free) photos of Foxy. The catch was that she would be able to use the material to promote her photography services. I didn't like it, but as long as Ali said okay the friend was fine with it.

Well, fuck me. TV ads began airing yesterday, featuring Foxy. Ali assured me that the final cut would have Foxy in it for half a second. Try fifteen seconds. The rest of the spot is random half-second shots which apparently advertise something, although it's not exactly clear, even to Ali. I freaked out at first before I saw the ad because I found out that the ad had Foxy's name on it, creating a slightly higher security risk than this blog presents. I saw the ad today, and it wasn't so bad I guess - apart from the fact that it pretty much fails as an advertisement altogether. Ali offered further reassurance by telling me that the ad will only run until April 30. I can deal.

Humble Much?

2008-04-13T19:08:00.003-04:00

It's been an interesting couple of weeks. Things at the office showed promise of a complete turnaround, and then the next day came. We are going through a rough patch and every now and then the boss gives a pep talk to boost everyone's spirit, only to be hit with a dose of reality the next day. The really sad part is that I think my boss actually believes what he's saying - and he's young so I don't really blame him. All in all, things have been improving. We just need a little more direction and communication around the place.

Ali, Foxy and I went to a cherry blossom festival yesterday, but I'll spare you the pictures because you can see what we saw about a million times by simply searching keyword "sakura" on any decent search engine. The weather was a little overcast, so we didn't get the best experience.

I've been trying to firm up my flabby bits in time for summer, and so I've been reducing the amount of alcohol consumption and really trying to eat less, which is difficult in my new family. Randy has been my inspiration. He's married to a chef, and he still manages to tone up somehow. I slipped a bit yesterday when I ate a Lindt Easter bunny all to myself - it was on sale, so I equivocated. I have to say it has been working. Not well enough for Ali though. Apparently my posture is the real problem. I have to agree that I should have better posture, but she could have mentioned it before. I've tried improving it in the past, but it's always so painful on the shoulders at first - so I gave up. Ali made sure I didn't do that this time, and now it doesn't hurt so much. If you listen to her tell the story, it's all because of her coaching that her sister won Miss Tochigi Prefecture 1993 - but I think it has more to do with her father's "pageantry expertise". That's how he puts it. I have to remember to sit up straight more often, like right now for instance. The new posture actually makes me look broad of shoulder and forces me to swagger. I don't know if that last bit's a good thing.

I have a nickname for Foxy. She's getting more independent now, and this morning we decided that she should be called the Screaming Three-Toothed Whitefooted Contraceptive Monkey Bird. Mainly nocturnal, this rare species survives on a diet of paper, hair, Cheerios and carpet bits. Flamboyant by nature, the female consistently behaves as though she's leading a parade. She communicates via a system of grunts and screams when she confronts a rival. She also communicates to others that she is the dominant female of her pack by raising one finger and waving it proudly, as seen above. I haven't figured out the Latin for this type of bird, but to her nearest and dearest she's simply known as the screaming contraceptive.

She's been featured on Youtube, which I'm not too happy about because we didn't sign any waivers or anything like that. And I'm also not too happy about it because the photographer is a friend, and for that reason feels she can act less than professional when dealing with us. For now I just have to let it go, but going forward, I'll have to put my foot down.

I rented Kiki's Delivery Service on Friday only because it was imdb's quote of the day and because it was another Miyazaki film. It didn't make Ali cry or anything, and really it didn't go anywhere with the storyline, but it was good to hear Phil Hartman's voice again. I guess these kinds of movies are good if you want to keep your monkey bird occupied, maybe.

Stupid Virgin and Flower Power

2008-03-29T11:57:00.004-04:00

We spent last night in the darkness. We did it is because Virgin Mobile sent me a text on behalf of the WWF asking us to fight climate change and turn out our lights for one hour at 8:00 pm. Normally, I ignore these pleas and leave them to the hippies, but in some twisted way I kind of admire Sir Richard and did it just because h(is multinational billion dollar corporation automated texting service)e personally asked me to. So just before 8:00, I pried Ali away from her blog and shut down the computer and climbed into bed for a nap. At 8:04 Ali asked me why we were doing this - as if asking when I first mentioned it was not a soo much better time to ask.

So far so good - except that we all fell asleep. That wasn't the plan. Only Foxy was supposed to sleep. And so when we woke up it was waaay after 9:00 and too late to give Foxy a bath. We fell back asleep. I woke up again at 1:30 and now I was pissed. Not sure why. Turned on the telly (not the lights) and discovered that basic cable offers free softcore porn at 1:30 in the morning. Not too impressed. I took out my contacts and went back to bed. I also turned off the television.

This morning I fished the text message out of my cell phone to show Ali why we did that thing last night, and as I read the text to her I realized that it wasn't last night (Friday) that we were supposed to do it, but tonight. I felt really stupid because nobody in my house can read a calendar. It was consolation to me to know that in fact we had done more than we were expected to, leaving the lights out for a grand total of 11.75 hours. I think that's good enough for the WWF. I'm comfortable with it.

Everyone who is helping out the WWF tonight, or has already done it - I'm rooting for you. But the next time I get one of those texts, I'll be counting on the hippies.

Sex and a Movie, Without the Sex

2008-03-28T21:05:00.005-04:00

So I’ve been a bit lazy in not getting this advance screening onto the intraweb, but I’ve got more important things to do. I have a baby you know. This week, I snatched a free pass to go see Run Fat Boy Run starring Simon Pegg as Dennis, and Thandie Newton as his ex-girlfriend Libby. Other main cast members include Hank Azaria as Wit, Dylan Moran as Gordon, Matthew Fenton as Jake, Harish Patel as Mr. (ready for it) Ghoshdashtidar. India de Beaufort as Maya, the landlord’s daughter plays a supporting role. Incidentally, Moran was also in Shaun of the Dead along with Peter Serafinowicz who was apparently in Run Fatboy Run somewhere. And who doesn’t remember Harish Patel’s performance as Roopchand in Mr. India? I’ll have to admit that I’ve seen that film (twice) and I don’t remember him.

I read some external reviews about this film before I dragged Randy out to see it with me, so I didn’t have high hopes. Firstly, Nick Frost, Simon Pegg’s oft cast co-star is nowhere in this movie. Shame. The movie didn’t need him, but it would have been nice to see his silly face pop up once in a while. The movie is David Schwimmer’s directorial debut in feature film, and the movie was okay. Just okay. The promo flyer called it the perfect date movie or something. I had a great metaphor for the okayness of this movie, but I forgot it. I hope Schwimmer gets it right next time. He’s a talented guy, he needs to show it.

My only real complaint about this film is that India de Beaufort did not play a bigger part. I am thankful however that Hank Azaria’s bigger part was kept off screen and the audience was instead treated to locker room shots of his backside.

Randy actually came to the theatre with enough time to spare. They always say that the show has been oversold to guarantee a full screening. Note: even selling surplus tickets still left this screening half empty. I have been back on coffee for a few weeks now, and as expected after consuming forty ounces that day, I was feeling a little stomach achy. Randy bought me some water and off we went to find our seats. I didn’t win any gift packs this time which is too bad too because one of the items was a soundtrack to the movie, which one reviewer said was pretty good. It was nice, but not as good as the soundtrack they use in Scott Baio is 45… and single and the sequel. Come on, I mean any soundtrack that uses Bronski Beat is an automatic winner. Oh, by the way I spent the whole movie thinking that Dylan Moran is Jarvis Cocker. It turns out, he’s not and Jarvis Cocker has not become an actor.

Randy scurried off to the toilets, while I had to endure previews of the new Sex and the City film. As far as I could tell, we’ve all already seen it – on the television. There was another preview, but I’ve slept since Wednesday so it’s hard to remember these things. This particular item of information was wiped out by a dream about the new (again) McRib sandwich, and trying to collect money from my friend Jeff Ooi. I’ve never actually met the real Jeff Ooi, but in the dream, Jeff Ooi was the name of an intern at the advertising agency who at the time was an aspiring actor who got all frantic one day because he hadn’t practiced his lines for an audition. I helped him run his lines. Apparently, he got the part because now he’s a big star. Back in present day dreamland, he’s like a big director or something, holding his own casting calls, and I see him handing out scripts to a queue of actresses. The little prick has MY script. I join the queue, only to be told that “today’s reading is for female roles only” by the very informative starlet in front of me. “Oh, I’m not here for the audition. I’m here to collect”. In my dreams, logic may not always present and in this scenario I had it that Jeff owed me money, and royalties on the script, even though it hadn’t even begun principal photography. The rest of the dream devolved into me playing smashy smashy with random objects in the immediate surroundings. The McRib thing is a totally different part of the dream, but I found it interesting that going back to McD’s after so many years’ absence, and all of a sudden I’m dreaming about their menu. I highly suspect that McD’s uses a mind control substance in their food. Or maybe this comes just from reading Kenny Sia's blog.

Anyway, the movie starts and we are greeted by really bad hair and such. Believe me, the one day you do not want to look like you were Lucky Pierre on Lucky Pierre Night at the gay bath house the night before, is the day of your wedding. Not only does Dennis have bad hair, he’s got a bad muzzle. I think that’s what it’s called. He and Gordon have not shaved on the day of the wedding. Lads, if there is only one day in your life that you choose to shave, make it the day of your wedding – if you choose to wed – because there will be pictures and stuff and it would make your wife, or your husband so happy. And in the next scene, we are treated to Dennis and Gordon five years later with the same stubble. See, Dennis ran from his own wedding and left Libby at the altar, pregnant. Probably not as pregnant as Ali, but you would never know it. Ali was so slim during her pregnancy, and Libby already looked pregnanter in the movie but you know, the camera does add ten pounds.

Dennis is now a single father with weekend visitation and we see him going to Libby’s to collect his son Jake and take him to Lord of the Rings. Libby warns Jake to get ready and as Jake yells back immediately “Ready!”, we see him standing in the salon fixated on the television wearing only a pair of rubber ears, slippers and his white pants – the English kind, not the American kind. Right away, I’m reminded of my brother Bobby, who was a big Star Wars fan. Jake even looks like Bobby at that age, except Bobby had all his teeth. When Dennis arrives at Libby’s flat, he meets Libby’s new boyfriend, Wit. He’s smarmy, but everyone gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Dennis has it in his head that he can get Libby back, and that it’s all a waiting game. Gordon tells him it’s not, and Libby confirms it by telling Dennis that he never committed to anything. Somehow, and I’m not sure quite how, Dennis figures if he can finish a marathon he will have finished something in his life and it should mean that Libby will take him back. I would have hoped that finishing or committing to something more permanent than a three hour race would be more what Libby meant. But really it’s all about the marathon because Wit is a marathoner and Dennis just wants to stick it to him.

So most of the movie features Dennis training. He doesn’t get very far with it on his own. Dennis’ friends and competitor all try to dissuade him in one way or another, and he eventually decides to pack it in. That is, until Gordon places a bet on Dennis. Now Dennis trains with his friend and coach Gordon, and his landlord and assistant coach Mr. Ghoshdashtidar. They had a chance to build on a lovely backstory with Mr. G but they didn’t. Too bad. Maya places a side bet with Dennis by telling him that he can finish the race and forget the back rent, or he can give up and have no place to live.

Dennis goes to Wit’s birthday party and sees his rival propose to Libby. She accepts and Dennis is gutted. Dennis decides again to pack it in and Maya packs him out. And lo, the role of Maya ends. The next morning, Dennis arrives late at the marathon, and among the sea of thousands of people, he is discovered by Wit. Wit decides to pull out all the stops, as if what he said to Dennis at the party was not enough. He sees that Dennis is unwaivering and actually keeping up with the others. Wit loses his nerve and takes out Dennis – much like a lumbering, fat classmate did to me in the upper fifth during the spring mile about 200 metres after the start. I continued, oblivious to the fact that my left elbow looked like hamburger and I was losing a lot of blood. This should have been easy for me. I got about a quarter down the course and couldn’t figure out why I was feeling weak and pukey. One of the course marshals told me my elbow was bleeding bad and pulled me off the run. Stupid fat fucker shouldn’t have been so far up the field anyway.

Just as it looks like Dennis is out of the race for good, he continues on a braced ankle and manages to have a television crew follow him to the end. Libby, watching the race on television gets confused about who is going to the hospital and goes because she thinks it’s Dennis. It’s not Dennis, it’s Wit. At the hospital, Wit loses it on Jake. I don’t necessarily feel it was inappropriate given the circumstances, but if somebody treated Foxy that way I would have done a lot worse than what Libby did. Back at home, she wakes up to the fact that Wit is a douchebag, and calls off the engagement. Dennis is still hobbling, inching toward the end of the race, and has a little dream sequence which wipes away any credibility the storyline may have had left. Libby and Jake go to the finish line to greet Dennis and help him overcome the Wall. He triumphs, even if he does finish last. He has finished the race. Gordon has cashed in on his bet, and Dennis has proven to himself that he can finish something. The movie ends with a forward jump to a few weeks later, obviously because Dennis can actually walk by this time, when Dennis asks Libby out for dinner. We see Gordon living on a yacht in France chatting up tourists. Dennis and Jake and Mr. G. play footy in the park. The graphics on the end credits were so annoying I didn’t even stay to read them all. David Walliams is a daft vegetarian in a cake shop.

Ali mentioned to me a few days ago that she has never seen Run Lola Run, so as a treat I went out on Tuesday and rented a copy. What soured it was that I also shlepped to three different locations looking for Nestlé Rolo Sundae dessert. All three locations were out, and one of the major grocery chains hinted that the product might be discontinued. Meh. I just wanted to get it for Ali. I was more mad at myself that I spent an hour looking for ice cream. Fool. Coincidentally, I was a fatboy running to the video store today just to get the DVD back in time.

I tried watching Zoolander last night, but fell asleep right before the walkoff scene. I had made quick work of 1.32L of Stella, and I believe that had something to do with my falling asleep. The movie actually looked pretty good up until the walkoff challenge, except that Will Ferrell was in it. I notice it's Vince Vaughn's birthday today. He was in the movie too.

Things have been pretty relaxed around the office. We've been closed to the public for a week of renovations that has somehow stretched into two weeks, and the boss is back in Japan visiting family - but not the happy kind of visit. I've finally managed to get four months of sales reconciled, and the only thing that made it suck was that there was no one left in the office to see it. It was 5:10. I was happy, nay relieved that it was finally done. It'll be smooth sailing from here on. Famous last words, right?

Foxy is growing quite quickly. She is trying to crawl, but can't quite get her legs out from under her. She's bumped her head a few times on the coffee table. Last week, during an impromptu fire drill at midnight, we met with some of our neighbours who offered to give us some bumper cushions they had fashioned for their coffee table. See how I used two of the three words in the English language that end in -shion in the same sentence? Anyway, the bumpers didn't suit our coffee table and Foxy liked them better to eat. At the weekend we went to the dollar store and bought some corner protectors, only you get what you pay for. The adhesive wasn't really adhesivey, it was silicone and only kept the bumpers from moving on their own. Worse, our coffee table has crowned edges and the bumpers were made for flat edges so they didn't sit flush. By the time Foxy came anywhere close to the coffee table again, the first thing she did was take one of the bumpers and stick it in her mouth. Two dollars down the toilet. She can stand as long as she can lean on stuff, and she recently began talking like Mini-Me in the Austin Powers series.

The Flatscreen

2008-03-15T14:28:00.010-05:00

Gratuitous baby photo. Where were we? Oh yes... preparing for Randy's bachelor party. At first I bailed, but I sometimes engage in the kind of behaviour that I myself despise - being wishywashy. There was some back and forth between Randy and me, and some back and forth between Ali and me but eventually I committed to being chauffeur for the night. The other guys were coming from Long Island, and none of them brought a vehicle. Not exactly true, but the one guy who did bring a car also brought his wife and she they decided that she would keep the car at the hen party while the guys used my car for the other party.

The day started off with a trip to the airport. Ali assumed that since the flight number was the same as the one for her arrival back in October, the landing time for this flight would also be the same. It doesn't help to ask - sometimes you have to check things out for yourself. So, the night before I checked. The plane wasn't landing at noon as assumed, it was landing oh, about 4 hours earlier. So much for a snooze on Saturday. We picked up Ali's parents and everything was good, good, good. They brought an extra suitcase which tipped the balance. I couldn't get it all in the car and my poor father in law had to sit cross-legged on the seat as the extra suitcase occupied the footwell. Stupidly (my idea), we stopped for bagels and coffee on the way home. Great, now extra stuff to carry. We couldn't go directly to the hotel because the check in time wasn't until 3:00 on the afternoon. Eventually, we got everything and everyone into the flat, and then all hell broke loose. It's normal for my wife's family - and every other Japanese family I've ever met. Everyone else was doing everything all at once. Opening gifts, watching DVDs, pouring drinks, hanging conversations. I had to get rid of them. I packed them all back into the car and went for a drive. There was some confusion and disappointment, but I wasn't going to worry about it. I dropped everyone at the hotel and off I went to Randy's.

Randy's brother couldn't make it. He stayed back in Concord to look after his mother-in-law who had fallen and twisted her ankle. Strangely, his wife was at the hen party, and not back at home looking after her ailing mother. Don't get me wrong, I was very pleased to finally meet her, and might I say Randy's brother has excellent taste. Too bad all (almost all) the hens were sloppy drunk by the time I actually met any of them.

First stop, the liquor store. Randy's buddies stocked up on Red Stripe and Jack Daniels and off we went to the first event. I had totally forgotten Randy's rules of thumb, and arrived still wearing my suit from all the airport goodness of collecting my inlaws. It was cold, damp and luckily a last minute change nixed the paintball idea. Instead, we attempted to play disc golf. It was my first bachelor party so I didn't really have a benchmark, and I did none of the planning so I couldn't complain. Frankly, I was just happy to get away from my inlaws. We got free parking - Kamsa ha nida - and we surprised a model doing a guerilla photo shoot. I appreciated it, not sure the other guys did. Randy was a little uncomfortable, drinking open liquor on the course and kind of wishing he hadn't decided to play disc golf. It would have been fine, except for the conditions and the fact that we encountered the world's least mellow foursome of disc golfers. Buzz kill.

We loaded back in the car and went to a Cuban French restaurant for dinner. Get it? Randy's getting married in Cuba Montréal and his bachelor party has a Cuban Frenchy theme. It ended up acquiring a distinctly Belgian flavour later on, but that's a different story. I ordered pasta, and someone ordered a pitcher of mojitos which I wasn't prepared for, and totally against the rules as far as I'm concerned. Shared drinks, for example a pitcher or a keg, behoove the designated driver to partake. If not, said person is deemed uppity, chippy, aloof and a general all round prick. How dare he or she not accept a wee drink when offered? Individual drinks, on the other hand are a no go. The designated driver is expected to have a reasonable amount of common sense and not order drinks for oneself when they are driving. So I was duped. I had one mojito as a gesture but was careful to load up on food and wait an overly extended period of time before moving on to the next chapter in the night. Also because I had to be sober in case Ali needed a ride home from the hotel.

And that was more drinking. Apparently the guys weren't primed enough for the next stage, and Randy had set aside a certain time for that so we ambled a few blocks down to a Belgian restaurant, which I touched on here, but only talked about the ending of that adventure and not the beginning. Anyway, it all started here, only one table away from where we sat at Randy's stag. One of the lads has a tapeworm or something, because before the end of the night he would eat four mains, and he had a very discerning palate. We all had a round, I was careful to only have one and stupidly I had one of the very same beers that Randy's best, best friend had stashed in the boot of my car. Only at the restaurant it was chilled and not free. With that round, the three of us noshed on some lovely Belgian chips and the one with the tapeworm had a plate of calamari. He complained about it, but I guess he deserved it for ordering food in a bar. Now we were ready, and the time had arrived for bowling. Don't laugh. We went bowling. Again, Randy was not happy because well, the bowling alley didn't live up to what was advertised. We didn't stay long, but I would like to mention that this is the first time I bowled in like 20 years, and the first time I bowled a whole game one-handed. Yup, I bowled two-handed when I was in the kiddies league but the proof is in the pudding. I am Most Improved Bowler - 1981 for my chapter. That's right. And that night at Randy's stag I did pretty good, but my back didn't. The next few weeks for me would be a wonderful, half-medicated journey.

So now Randy's pissed (off) because the bowling turned out to be not as much fun as he had hoped, so what could we do? That's right - back to the Belgian restaurant for more drinking. To be honest, I'd never seen Randy drink this much before but that was nothing compared to some of the things I did/saw later that night. We all went back to our original table and the lads ordered more drinks and chips and Mr. Tapeworm ordered two more mains. Our waitress had changed, and I will say that she alone would bring me back to this restaurant. We asked her to drink with us, but she said it was against company policy - a policy that had apparently changed since I was there last. She told us where she was from and I used my fantastic memory and my travels around the world to sort of wow her a little bit. It worked. Oh right, it was Randy's party, not mine. As the lads downed more and more, last call approached. We were sitting on the patio and it was a little chilly. The gas heaters weren't doing it for me any more, so when a parking spot opened up in front of the patio, I ran a few blocks to move the car closer. By the time I got back, the spot had been taken as I half expected, but there was still enough room to park in front of the other car. In fact, that space had been there all night. It just looks like you're not supposed to park there. As we were leaving, Randy asked the waitress if anyone with a particular name worked at the restaurant. Apparently Randy and the other guys were at a Starbucks somewhere earlier that day and the barista casually mentioned that he was friends with the manager. The waitress went and brought out the manager. I'm not sure what the objective was, but the guys were toasted and I guess they wanted to let some manager - there are several for this restaurant - know that some random barista wanted to say hello.

I took the lads home, and that's when things got scary. The hen party was a total loss. The ladies went to their pole-dancing class, but when they arrived at a club - they discovered that they weren't on the VIP list, wouldn't pay the cover and had all their "personal use" liquor confiscated. Somebody had lied to them. They made a stink and the manager brought back their liquor and they left. So we were surprised to see them when we got back to Randy's place. Ekaterina was so drunk, and I've never even seen her drink so it was a little unsettling. All but one of the other chicks were completely lit, and since Kat didn't get to do all her hen party stuff at the club, the three lads not getting married the next week were drafted in as substitutes. It's a moment I'm not proud of, and will never speak of again after I post it on my blog. What could happen? Like, one person reads this blog, so here it goes: We played Suck for a Buck. Kat had a bunch of life savers sewn to her shirt and she was really in my face so I couldn't get out of it. Randy wasn't looking so I deftly took one off her breast. Lime. Only the camera didn't get the shot. So we had a do-over. Only this time Randy was looking and I could tell he wasn't pleased so I took a safe one off her tummy. Pineapple. The camera shot didn't turn out so well anyway so it was worth nothing. I kept my dollar. The hen party stayed in the kitchen and salon while the guys crammed into the den to play Wii games. By the time we were done, my eyes were burning and Tapeworm dude had fallen asleep. It was time to go. So it wasn't a typical stag, but I had fun anyway.

Over the next week, we visited more with Ali's parents, and by the final night of their trip I could hardly walk. I developed a rash for some reason. At first I ignored it because I'd had this before, and it wasn't itchy or bumpy so I thought it would go away. I didn't even know it was a rash. I thought it was just an abrasion or something. Anyway, a few days went by and it didn't go away. I checked it on the weekend and it had spread all the way down my arms onto my hands. I figured it was time to see the doctor. Monday morning I went to the clinic and showed the doc what I was concerned about. He told me to take off my shirt. He showed me more areas that had the same rash. He told me to take off my pants. He showed me more. The thing is he told me where the rash would be before I took off my clothes. He took a throat culture, and sent me for a blood test. If there were any problems he would call me. He figured I had a weakened immune system due to stress and fatigue. It's like he knows everything about me, and we've never met! He told me to get some rest for the next little while. By the end of the week, the rash was gone, but I would soon develop a nagging cold that wouldn't go away completely. I've still got it now and it's been like three weeks. It is ebbing slowly though, and I think it will go away quickly now that exams are over. Randy and Kat were in Cuba Montréal for two weeks, and I was to look after the cat for the second week. I stressed a little about that because it took a severe chunk out of my study time.

While I was up to my elbows in ground horse meat, Randy and Kat were having a lovely time taking scooter tours and drinking state-subsidized rum. Oh yeah, they got married too. I picked them up at the airport and when we got back to their place they showed me their wedding photos. Randy was looking pretty good. The bootcamp really paid off for him. Kat looked resplendent in her wedding gown - not really hard for her. I was a bit jealous because they were able to get outdoor snaps. At my wedding there were no outdoor shots. They gave me a bottle of rum and took Ali, Foxy and me out for lunch. I wish I had been able to be at the wedding.

Later that day, when I should have been studying, we went to OP's for tea. We arrived and the first thing I noticed was Sissy's SUV. Hmmm, this would be interesting. I haven't spoken to my sister since Boxing Day because of a little nastiness the night before at Bob's place. Whatever, it's fine now. I accept the fact that my sister cannot say sorry. Anyway, we had a nice time at OP's except that we had already eaten and didn't have room for any tea cakes. The stress from not studying was starting to build up. I was lucky because my exam wouldn't be until the end of the week. I was resolved to studying a little bit each evening until Friday. That didn't happen. I was still fighting this nasty cold which was making a last ditch effort in the back of my throat. A steady regimen of tea with honey which (fuck me!) has antibiotic properties slowly put paid to that. I've been watching a lot of Gordon Ramsay lately... I must have been bagged by the cold because when I got home after work for the first few days I'd be too tired to study. I pulled out the bung after a few days and powered through five units in one evening. I managed the other five on the day of the exam. My professor always advised that we not study on the day of the exam. I realized that maybe, just maybe if I stopped listening to him - I might actually pass the exam this time round. I had it all planned - an evening exam which meant no dinner and a weekend coming up. I grabbed one of the McDonald's coupons we received in the mail, and went looking for the 2-for-1 coupon I got when I went to see In Bruges. I couldn't find it. If I could have, this would have been a post about movies. As usual, the coupon was not where it should have been. Ali moved it. By this time the exam was less than an hour away. The McD's coupon wasn't valid for another week so I raced across town on an empty stomach.

I got to the exam with less than ten minutes to spare. The only seats left were front row centre. DAMN! Double DAMN! At least I still had the Australian Grand Prix to look forward to. No cell phones were allowed in the exam for obvious reasons, but it was my only timekeeper. It's probably a good thing I didn't use it because I probably would have panicked. That's my problem with exams. I skimmed the exam questions. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The questions could not have been simpler. I smiled. I went back to the beginning and began the exam. As I read more closely, I noticed that the questions were twisted a bit so that the easy answer was not the one the examiners were looking for. No problem, I just had to use my brain a bit. I got to the end of the exam and noticed there was one more page. WTF?! These exams NEVER have more than 7 questions, and this one had nine. I noticed that a few of the questions were throwaways that the examiners had put in to give a few easy marks - but now my hands were hurting from all the BLOCK LETTER writing and some students had already finished. I'm pretty sure the first guy gave up and walked out. I had also skipped over three questions - not two as originally thought - to mull over things a bit. The terminology for this course has always been a bit of a problem for me, but I made an executive decision and answered two of the questions the way I thought they should be answered. It turns out that I was on the right track. I hope the markers agree. The final question was easy, as soon as I came up with a way to explain it so that the marker would understand what I meant. Now watch. I'll wait six weeks for my marks - the scientifically calculated period of time necessary for students to forget their exam performance - and I will discover that I failed. The first time I wrote this exam I thought it was a walk in the park. I was wrong. I totally missed the thrust of the exam. I didn't get the same feeling this time, but I'm pretty sure I'll pass.

If not, I'm packing it in and moving to Japan to be a bicycle courier. Ali's already itching to go back. Constant harping from her parents seems to help. While they were here, amid the confusion of the first day, Ali's father mumbled something about the adequacy of, or lack thereof, my television. Ahem. That cathode ray tube was state-of-the-art-bought-directly-from-the-Sony-store when I got it fifteen years ago. It wasn't the biggest television available, but I try not to be too ostentatious about the things I own, clothes excepted. I'm a peacock. Anyway, thanks Dad-san for the 7.1 megapixel Canon camera as a gift just for showing up but I'll keep the Sony CRT and not think twice about it. By the way, if digital cameras are the kind of gift you give just for visiting, come by anytime. And thanks again for the bottle of Johnny Walker Green Label, the same thing I gave you when I visited Tokyo but I happened to notice that the bottle you gave me seems a little smaller. I'm just saying.

The weekend after they left, there was loud knock at the door on Saturday morning. It was Genya, and he had a little something for us. I opened the door, and he didn't even wait for me to ask him in. He barged past me with a smile from ear to ear, stopping only to kick off his loafers. He was carrying a flatscreen and was looking for a place to put it down. At this point. Ali and Foxy came out the bedroom, and squealing ensured shortly after. I was still half asleep but managed to muster, "Don't tell me, it fell of a truck".

"Eh? How could you guess?", Genya said half-jokingly but only half.

"What brings you by this Saturday morning at half eight? Would you like some coffee? I could sure use some".

"Furato sukureen. From the boss. Coffee sounds good. Do you have any okashi?", as he reached for a box cutter in his back pocket.

"Really? Are you sure I can't whip up some pancakes or some bacon and eggs or something for you?"

"No no, thank you very much. I'm not so hungry", Gen answered totally missing the sarcasm of my question.

Twenty minutes later, the television was connected and Ali was already watching some Music Station DVDs - part of more than forty hours of programming her parents recorded at Christmas and brought over. I was standing, scratching my head looking at the packing mess trying to keep the baby away from it and asking myself what just happened. I couldn't figure it out so I asked Ali. I had to ask her a couple of times because her attention was clearly devoted to the flatscreen.

Eventually, she blurted out, "You told my dad you wanted a flatscreen, so he got one for us".

"Umm, no I didn't. I so totally didn't. He said I should get one. I said that I liked my Sony television just fine. This is like The Noodle Conversation your dad and I had in Tokyo". The Noodle Conversation was a landmark in my relationship with my father-in-law, and it demonstrated clearly to me that even though someone can talk English, they might still not speak it - completely misunderstanding their interlocuteur.

"It's a Sony flatscreen. You should enjoy". Yes, exactly.

"My point is that I never asked for this. We don't need this. If I wanted a flat screen, I would have bought one myself", but she stopped listening long before. Defeated once again, I took my old CRT and moved it into the bedroom temporarily.

It took some prodding, but I watched the Australian Grand Prix on the flatscreen, and I am now totally unopposed to the new telly. It was fun. Kimi sucks as usual and Lewis rocks. Too bad for Sebastian B.

Next Stop... Bruges

2008-01-31T00:54:00.000-05:00

Don't you hate those movies that have characters that tell you how they're going to finish, but they don't say they are going to finish, but then they finish that way? It's a little predictable. In Bruges is one of those movies, but it was awesome. Better than The Departed. I stand by that - you have to stick to your principles. It's better, because it has actual real actors and the story is a little easier to follow.

The movie opens with a narration by Colin Farrell, an actor I had managed to avoid on screen until now. I thought the narration was a big mistake. I was wrong, it just takes a little getting used to that guy's voice. The movie also stars Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes whom I haven't seen since The White Countess. I also saw him in The Constant Gardener, a novel by John Le Carré. I happen to be reading another book by Le Carré called Absolute Friends, the first book I've read since I was in Mexico many, many tequila-filled years ago. And the movie also stars that guy from The Stationmaster and Elf. I thought so but not really.

I guess even hitmen have jobs they don't like. You know like some people do jobs because they have to, or they feel they have to. I do accounts because I can make numbers sing and because I happen to like it. I always thought being a hitman would be a job like that because really, you don't ever have to do that job. This movie is about a couple of hitmen who are starting to not like their jobs anymore. Ray (Farrell) and Steve (Gleeson) are sent to Bruges by their boss to lay low for awhile. Apparently, their boss likes Bruges and doesn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to see it before they die. Harry thinks Bruges is like a fairy tale, or more precisely like a dream sequence - dum dum dum. Steve and Ray talk about how being in Bruges is a little "over-elaborate" as though elaborate is just normal for these guys. Harry (Fiennes), calls later to let Steve know that he has to kill his friend, Ray. Steve doesn't want to do it, but Ray messed up a job and killed a young boy as well as his intended target. Kids are a no-go for Harry and that kind of mistake doesn't go unpunished.

Steve is conflicted because he doesn't agree with Harry, and wants to let Ray correct the situation his own way. Ray is torn because he killed a little boy and doesn't think he's good enough to walk on earth anymore. I was kind of like that the other day. I was looking after Foxy, and I took my eye off of her for ten seconds because I also just happened to be trying to kill someone. Next thing I heard was Foxy's skull bouncing off the UPS. No problem, what I actually heard was the UPS knocking against the desk, and the bump on Foxy's head probably wasn't that bad. What freaked me out was not the crying, but the mark the UPS left on Foxy's temple. In med school, I saw a lot of head wounds but we never really looked at pediatrics. I actually thought maybe I'd cracked her occular cavity and that she might go blind, or that she might have concussion. I felt pretty bad, like badder than bad. Like Ray. But it turned out to be nothing. Ali sobbed and made me swear never to play Silent Assassin again. We didn't go to the hospital. There wasn't much swelling and a little mauve bruise on Foxy's temple, but she's fine.

I wanted to go see this movie with Randy, but he bailed because he's committed to bootcamp, and I recently let him know that I can't keep him occupied while his fiancée has her hen party. A party that Ali was requested to attend, requested vigourously but she declined because she's afraid of schlong and strippers, and also because her parents are coming in that day. So by consequence, I can't mind Randy because I too have to meet with the inlaws.

Harry becomes infuriated with Steve and travels to Bruges to sort things. Steve is tired of fighting and refuses to defend himself. Instead of killing Steve, Harry the snivelling rat shoots Steve in the leg, and then later again in the neck. Back to the beginning for a second, Ray meets a film tech, and ends up having a little fun with Chloe. Chloe is working on a film that features Jordan Prentice. Ray is fascinated by midgets and dwarves and despite inappropriate behaviour he manages to make friends with Jimmy the actor. Jimmy's in town filming a dream sequence.

Steve goes and gets the gun to kill Ray, and in a little bit of the surreal much like a lot of my life, the hitman ends up giving the arms dealer an English lesson. Steve goes to kill Ray and catches Ray trying to kill himself which he won't let him do. He also won't kill his quirky friend Ray and sends him off on a train instead. Previously, while on a date with Chloe Ray gets into it with a tourist who really, honestly was asking for it. Harry has gone to the arms dealer and obtained a gun and some "Dumb Dumbs", essentially incendiary bullets that explode after entry. On the train out of Bruges, Ray is spotted by police and sent back to Bruges. Steve doesn't know this and tells Harry that Ray is gone like my hair. Harry finds out that Ray is in Bruges, which makes Steve look like a liar so Harry shoots him in the neck and goes after Ray who happens to be very close by. Steve jumps off the belltower where he was shot because he can't chase after Harry but gets Ray's attention. Harry chases Ray back to their hotel where Steve has stashed a revolver, and the two of them end up in a stand off. Ray and Harry strike a gentlemen's agreement, but Ray is unable to escape and is again chased around Bruges with varying gunshot wounds. They stumble across the film set, and Jimmy recognizes his friend. He advances toward Ray, putting himself in the line of fire and ends up getting his head blown clear off. Special bullets. His costume makes it appear as though he is a little boy, and Harry thinks he has done the one thing that a killer should never do, so he blows his own head off. A little predictable at this point and kinda cheesy. The exact ending is unclear, which is what saves this film just as you think it's going to shit. Constant rips on Belgium and comparisons to Hell, and one jab at Tottenham Hotspur which only two people in the audience caught - me and the guy next to me - keep levity moving in the film. In fact, there was quite a lot of laughing in the audience. Not really something you expect in a movie about baby killers.

On the way out of the theatre, I bumped into one of the three people I had to fire a while back. It's a little odd the amount of people I bump into. All I can say is... awkwaaard! We kept it civil. She just finished watching No Country for Old Men which is high on my list. I didn't stick around to chit chat though. I hurried home, helped give the baby a bath and do this blog thing. It was a good evening.

A Rare Moment

2008-01-24T21:40:00.000-05:00

So it's like this: The new job is working out well, though not as well as I would have hoped. I normally would have wanted to be at this point two months ago, but I am literally having to learn things from scratch, despite the cursory training back in the beginning. I am now the second highest paid person in the company, which is a first, even though I'm earning less than the company initially promised. I don't care, I have insurance now!
Who knew I would have to fire my supervisor after only 30 days in? The company is doing a lot better than it was before. Before, they had no cash control, no cash budget - nothing. In fact, the accountant was encouraged not to discuss money with the president. I just found out today that the company hasn't filed a tax return in two years. This was an embarrassment, not only because I found out from the IRS - but because the former accountant never mentioned it. I used to know a guy who became a CPA, and everyone who knew him never knew how he did it. We just shook our heads. Well, now I know another person who should probably reconsider her career choice. I was so glad to see the back of her on her final day, but unfortunately she popped in around Christmas with some chocolates.
And now the movie review. By far the best movie I saw in 2007, best because Ali really liked it too. It's not often we both like a movie and make some sort of personal connection to the movie. That movie is Linda Linda Linda, a movie I saw on the shelf, like so many others and had meant to rent it but never got around to it until November, was it? Also because any film with school girls on the box is generally a no-no for me.
I tried so hard to remember the details, but I just can't anymore. I'll give a general overview. Duna Bae stars as Son, the Korean exchange student who just can't seem to fit in at her school. It also stars Aki Maeda, Yu Kashii, Shiori Sekine, and Takayo Mimura. I read somewhere that Duna Bae was some sort of model/sex symbol in Korea, but I really don't understand why. Anyway, Kyoko (Maeda), Kei (Kashii), and Nozomi (Sekine) are at a short end because the lead singer for their band recently quit to start a solo gig, and they need to find a replacement before the year-end school concert. They make a pact that the next person who they bump into will be the new singer. Son walks by, and a deal is a deal. They grab her and convince her to join the band. They don't have any material yet, but one of the girls pulls an old Blue Hearts tape out of a drawer and it's decided. They give Son the lyrics, and it turns out she's a bit of a closet diva. She goes to a karaoke bar after school and gets comfortable with her voice, and her Japanese.
The movie unfolds with a few confrontations with their former singer, school stuff, and preparations for the year-end thingy which looks to me like a big contest to see which group of kids can sell the most junk. The girls look to another student who used to play music and she gives them some guidance. Rinko (Mimura) is too cool to go back to playing in a group, but they do convince her to play in the concert. The band nearly breaks up, I can't remember why but it comes together at the last possible moment to perform a two song set at the concert. Ali knew the words to both off by heart. Apparently, the Blue Hearts whom I actually have heard about before but in that way that you forget about it until someone brings it up again, were a somewhat influential band that somehow penned a karaoke anthem. Ali says karaoke is just karaoke in Japan until someone sings Linda Linda - and then it's a karaoke party.
For the rest of the night, Ali kept singing the chorus and dancing with Foxy. The second song that the group played is considered somewhat controversial in Japan because it uses a rather nasty word which is understood not to be said in polite company. Even in English it's a bit harsh, but it took me a long time to figure it out because the subtitles kept translating it as ass, and in that way the subtitles didn't quite make sense. Ali sings that one too, but not too often. It's a song for teens and young adults who are mad at the world. The next day, Ali went rummaging through all her minidiscs and found a copy of a Blue Hearts album. Pretty much for the next week, it was the only music in the house. See this film. If it doesn't make you smile, you're stone. Bloody stone, man.

Foxy is preparing for her faith healing tour. Yeah, yeah I know. It's sacrilegious and whatever but really they're all fake so it's really fake sacrilege to make fun of them. Except Peter Popoff, because he's real. Really. Foxy likes to swat at people and smack them in the face like a faith healer, and then make loud Foxy Talk (registered trademark) so it makes me laugh. She constantly rips off my glasses as though she is trying to cure my myopia. Actually Foxy was in the hospital a few days after Christmas with a bit of a fever. We decided to do nothing because she was running only slightly higher than normal temps, but then I realized that these were normal adult temps. What if my baby was actually cooking her brain and we did nothing to stop it? We went to the hospital and we waited. We were moved to an examination room and then the real waiting started. It turns out that we were right to come in when we did. Her temp was right on the lower margin of concern. The nurse was really cool, and I nearly sold her a car. "Do you actually DRIVE a Volkswagen or do you just wear the hat?" was her question. I could tell by the look on her face that it was an honest question. It turns out she's a big Volkswagen fan and I told her how great my new car is and some of the incentives the local dealership is offering. I think she went out the next day and bought one. Anyway, because of Foxy's young age, the hospital has a "policy" of running urine tests to check for bladder infections. We had to wait for Foxy to pee. That took a long time. Say what you want about the state of health care today, but the folks at Children's Hospital of New Jersey took really good care of us. I would never expect free sandwiches from Starbucks and beverages at any other hospital. Parking killed me though. I kept plugging the meter every hour because I was trying to be optimistic. I would have been better off getting the overnight rate. It paid for itself after four hours. We were there for five. The initial test came back inconclusive (I think), so the nurse explained to us that she was going to have to get the sample the "other" way. She explained to me, and suggested we take a walk. When we came back, Foxy was okay but a little vulnerable and kind of wondering where Mummy was. They couldn't get the results of the second test back quickly, so they gave us permission to leave and they would call if anything came up. They gave Foxy a new teddy bear and we were gone. Because of all that, and a rather unpleasant experience with the staff at our regular former doctor's office, we have found another doctor. Fluent in Japanese, he's as old as dust but he came out of retirement strictly because there were no other Japanese speaking doctors in the area, and the HMO made it worth his while. Nice guy, really nice guy.
Another post, another visit from the in-laws. This time, they're both coming. They won't be staying for long which I always find a little strange, but they just want to see Foxy again. They miss having foxiness in their lives. And that's how it is.

Foxy's Here

2007-11-04T13:19:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-10-24T21:54:00.001-04:00

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

2007-10-18T21:38:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-10-12T18:47:00.001-04:00

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!

2007-10-05T22:57:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-10-02T14:10:00.001-04:00

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

2007-09-26T01:58:00.000-04:00

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

2007-09-09T16:20:00.000-04:00

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

2007-09-03T21:04:00.001-04:00

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

2007-09-02T16:28:00.001-04:00

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

Ali Sings to Foxy

2007-09-02T15:46:00.001-04:00

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

2007-08-27T00:00:00.001-04:00

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

2007-08-26T23:51:00.001-04:00

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

2007-08-26T17:13:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-26T17:11:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-08-26T17:10:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-16T14:15:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-14T19:07:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-08-06T17:17:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-04T00:34:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-28T14:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-20T19:42:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-12T21:42:00.001-04:00

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?

What's the Frequency, Kenneth?

2007-07-08T22:35:00.000-04:00

I was hoping that this post would be a little more sentimental, but that's life in Jersey. A few months ago, I was informed that child car seats are not permitted in Jeep Wranglers, and to make sure that somebody like me doesn't put one in anyway, Chrysler doesn't put the seat anchors in, as permitted by the NTSB. So, I've had to buy a new car.

I took Baby out this evening to break the news. I felt a little bit like the time we had to take Duke to the vet one last time. I used the "It's not you, it's me" speech, but it wasn't too bad. Baby had noticed my wandering eye, and knew it was only a matter of time. I had brought my new camera to take some last photos of Baby before I sent her off to the knackers.

Baby wanted to know about the other car, but I refused to discuss Pepper, the sleek German model I was about to make it official with. Nothing positive would come from that conversation. We laughed, and we cried, and then it was time to take the photos.
Here's where it all became a little surreal: I got one shot off, when a rather irate individual came up and asked what I was taking photos of. I told him, and then he told me I should have asked his permission first and demanded to see the photo. I showed him -
As you can see, he is nowhere in the photo. He was clearly agitated about something, and accused me of trying to take his photo for a website he called "Babyfuckers of Czechoslovakia". I could have been an asshole and asked him if he was indeed a babyfucker, but the situation was escalating well enough on its own, so I went the other way with the more intelligent "That's unusual, you don't sound Czech". I reminded him that I was in a public place and that I was entitled to take photos of anything I could see. Quizzically, he told me that we were not in Russia, and that he had the right to walk in the street without his photograph being taken. At this point, it occurred to me that he was a pedophile, because obviously only a person who is a babyfucker would think that that is what the general public thought of them. In any event, he was definitely somebody who had been to prison. A police car drove by and rather than flag it down and tell them that his rights were being violated, he turned away so they wouldn't see his face. He continued to goad me until I finally told him that if he had a problem, he should speak to Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. I reached in through the passenger window and opened my glovebox. A bluff, of course. He didn't know what to do with himself so he threatened to take down my plate. I welcomed his enthusiasm. He did nothing in the end, but as he walked off I snapped a photo of his out of state plate. In Jersey, you never know.

Bye Bye Baby.

Free Movie Time

2007-07-06T00:03:00.000-04:00

I won a double pass to a preview screening of Sicko by Michael Moore last week, but of course it wasn't really a sneak preview. I asked Bobby if he wanted to come, he had to work of course. So I asked Randy. He's usually good for a few free beers and a movie, but not this time. He had already seen the movie a few days before on youtube. So I went by myself, and I got there late so it was a good thing because finding two seats together was impossible. I ended up sitting next to a gay couple who were quite friendly, well at least the one closest to me was. The opening scene of the movie is perhaps the most graphic, and the old queen sitting next to me almost fainted. I advised him that this was only the beginning of the film and that he should think about watching the rest of it. He stayed for the whole thing and touched my knee gently at the closing credits. I'm pretty sure it was an accident, so I didn't say anything plus his boyfriend looked to be a very jealous type. It was an honest mistake - my stylist gave me a free haircut because of all the free goodies I brought her from Japan, but she gave me the "extra gay" cut. I didn't tip. Twenty-five percent of zero is still zero.

I'm not going to critique the film because it is a documentary. It's done in the usual Michael Moore style and has a few funny moments, but I just want to say that he does skew the facts a little bit in his favour. I happen to know, thanks to our fair brethren to the north that the Canadian health system is not as good as Mr. Moore paints it. The truth is, he covered the health system in the province of Ontario which just so happens to be the best in that country. My friends on the west coast and on the Canadian prairies tell me that even though Moore says that health care is totally free (it may be in Ontario), it is not the case in Vancouver. Each taxpayer is required to pay a monthly fee for basic coverage, and in one of the prairie provinces (I forget which), a for-profit health care system is already available for those who can afford it. I'm also pretty sure that he simplifies the French case. So you see, while the health care systems in Canada, Great Britain, France and Cuba may be better than the systems in the States, they are not necessarily free. I still believe that the point Moore is trying to make comes across loud and clear, despite a few inaccuracies and am amused that the anti-Moore camp focuses the majority of it's attention on the coverage of the Cuban health care system. They can't argue with the NHS, and ignore the French and the Canadians. For good reason I say, generally. Fucking Socialists. I never really thought about it, but I guess my own little example of free health care never would have been possible had she been born in New Jersey. Technically, Japan does not have a free health care system - it's very much like the States, but at least in Japan infants get a free pass. Foxy has changed so much since the above photo. That was taken when she was a week old. Now she's looking more and more like Jabba the Hut with a toupée, little by little each day.

I sent some Vermont chocolates back to Japan for my mother-in-law because she got some as a gift when she came to the wedding and wanted more. How could I deny? The package was opened by Customs officials because they suspected an explosive device. Apparently, they did not sample any of the fine chocolate from the Green Mountain State. It may have been a good thing, because when my father-in-law sampled a piece, he lost a dental filling. It's a good thing he's got insurance.

I spent the weekend before the Fourth camping with Bobby, his boss' family and some important clients in Vermont. Fifteen people in all. It was the first time I'd been camping in many years and it was the first time that I was able to use my tent, the five-year service gift I received from a certain employer. It was actually quite large and I fancied taking Foxy and Ali camping next time around. How young is too young to go camping?

Actually I Would Like to Eat My Cake and Have It Too.

2007-06-22T19:30:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I've seen any movies, and I'll be pulling it all from memory but I saw some really, really good ones on the weekend. It all started with wanting to see Hot Fuzz starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, both of Shaun of the Dead. Again, Edgar Wright directs. This was a film that I looked for while I was in Japan, and couldn't find it obviously because it hasn't been released on video yet. I found that out at the video shop on Friday. I thought I'd go for Kaidan nobori ryu, aka The Blind Woman's Curse starring Meiko Kaji who would later star in Joshuu 701-gô: Sasori. No luck, someone had already rented it. There was a new guy working the counter, so I thought I'd let him choose. I asked for anything by Park Chan-uk. He listed off the usual films, and then added Saam gaang yi or Three... Extremes.

"I'll take it!" Now I should have been tipped off by the behaviour of the new clerk, but I guess he wasn't having a good day. He sent me home with Saam gaang, the "sequel" to the movie I had asked for. I also went home with JSA: Joint Security Area. I got through two of the short films in Saam gaang before I realized that I had the wrong video. The shorts on this disc were entertaining, especially the third. The first one is called Memories, a Korean film directed by Kim Ji-woon starring Jeong Bo-seok, and Kim Hye-su as a married couple. I have to say that I couldn't tell what was going on in these short films, so I'll just kind of relate my interpretations. In this one, the wife has gone missing and is seen in a series of flashbacks, which may or may not be contemporary. The husband does not recollect what has happened to his wife, but she is a ghost. She is trying to rejoin her family in their new home, but cannot reach them. You know, ghosts can't use the telephone. The movie goes along with the husband denying that he killed his wife, but that he really wants to remember what happened to her. He then sees a duffel bag (why is it always a duffel bag?) in his living room, and opens it to find the body of his wife. The rest of the film depicts the woman realizing that she is a ghost and the husband perhaps remembering that he killed her in the first place. Nothing really new here.

The second film is a Thai film called The Wheel directed by Nonzee Nimibutr. I have no idea why this film is called The Wheel, because there isn't a single wheel in it anywhere. It's about a group of performers who fight over the puppets they use in their shows. Apparently, these puppets control the performers and cause bad things to happen. Not a lot going on here.

The next day, I called the video shop and told them what had happened and they offered to exchange this disc for the right one. Well, not before I watched the rest of it. I'm glad I did. The third was the best of the three I thought. Written by Teddy Chan, the same guy who directed Wan 9 zhao 5, this movie stars Eric Tsang, yes executive producer Eric Tsang, and follows the story of a single father trying to find his missing son. He suspects his neighbour, a guy who pushes his wife around in a wheelchair because she is dead. But you aren't supposed to know that yet. Anyway, the neighbour had strangled his sick wife and bathes her daily in a mixture of chinese herbs to keep her refreshed. He also talks to her so that her spirit knows that it has not been forgotten. Peter Ho-sun Chan does a great job directing the story. Tsang's character is held captive by the neighbour because he doesn't want anyone to find out about his dead wife, but eventually they do and he gets arrested. By this time, the wife is beginning to return to a healthy life after three years of being looked after daily by her husband when he is suddenly killed in a car accident. The wife does not receive the final care she needs and dies for good in the police morgue. Tsang later reviews video cassettes found in the neighbour's flat only to find that the guy was not crazy, that he himself was brought back to life by his wife several years before. It had been his turn to care for his wife by doing the same thing she had done to him. Now that the husband and wife were permanently dead, their unborn daughter could now join them in the afterlife. I don't remember if Tsang's son is ever found, but it was the ghost of the daughter that lured him away to begin with. This was the best of the three films.

I went back to the video store and exchanged the disc for the one I wanted originally, and came home with three more shorts. Director Fruit Chan was first up. Dumplings stars Miriam Yeung Chin Wah as an aging wife who wants to retain her youth, attract more attention from her husband and have a child. The film also stars Bai Ling. She's famous, I guess. Anyway, the squeamish should read no further. I figured out the plot to this film at about the same time that Bai Ling says she is her own best advertisement. Bai cooks dumplings which have a reputation of helping people stay young. What's the special ingredient? Babies. Yup, babies. How does she get these babies? You don't think she cooks all day, do you? Nope, she finds wayward girls who are in a situation and helps them out. See, she helps them and they help her. Everybody wins. Of course, Bai is no professional and she ends up killing one of the girls I think. She disappears after it is discovered that one of the babies was the product of incest and has created nasty dumplings. Yeung's character is sickened to learn what she has become part of and after discovering that she is now pregnant, she aborts the pregnancy. Now the really fucked up shit happens right here. She continues to eat the dumplings. What? I thought she no longer wanted to have a baby. I might have missed something here because the subtitling was white on white a lot of the time, but it seemed to me that she really didn't care about having a kid and just wanted to stay looking young to satisfy her vanity. Good film, easy plot but it's put me off dumplings for a long time.

The second film is Cut by Park chan-uk, starring Lee Byung-hun, Lim Won-hie, and Kang Hye-jeong. I found this film to be a lot like Takashi Miike's Bijitâ Q, in that it involves a stranger who manipulates a family. In the film, a director is subdued in his own home by an extra who appeared in all of the director's films. The extra has a bit of a problem because he is jealous of the wealthy, virtuous, well-liked director who is a contrast to his own life. The extra somehow feels that the director should be punished for his goodness and has wrangled the director's wife to a piano and has ordered the director to sin by killing a girl who happens to be tied up on the sofa. If he doesn't do it, the extra will cut off the fingers of the piano-playing wife. Eventually, the director attempts to kill the girl and discovers that it is in fact the son of the extra, whom the extra could not kill himself that morning. The wife manages to bite a chunk out of the extra's jugular, only to witness the son swear revenge as his father bleeds out. Again, I missed a lot because of the white on white thing, but it was pretty fucked up. But in Park's style, the viewer is challenged to determine what is right and wrong.

And for a little treat, the third film was directed by none other than Takashi Miike and was called Box. This is the story of a young woman who is haunted by the ghost of her sister, whom she accidentally killed as a child in a circus fire. The twin sisters are contortionists who work in a magic act, but as the magician favours one sister, the other becomes jealous. She locks her sister in a box and unfortunately causes a fire before her sister can be released. The magician reunites with the woman, and tells her that he wanted to do them both and that he liked them equally. At about that time, he grabs a sheet of polyurethane and pulls it over the girl's head. A lot of this is dream sequence and flashbacks and I'm not sure what really happens in the end, but I think the older sister gets buried alive. Some people have suggested that the two sisters are actually siamese twins who dream of being separated, but I'm the type of person to watch a film over and over again to try and analyze everything, or count legs.

JSA: Joint Security Area stars Lee Byung-hun of Cut, Lee Yeong-ae of Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, and Song Kang-ho also from Lady Vengeance, but perhaps better known for his role in Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. Lee Yeong-ae, who is allegedly fluent in English, plays a Swiss soldier sent to investigate a double homicide on the Korean border and locate the missing bullet. She's not fluent in English, and it really messed up the flow of the film. Lee Byung-hun plays a South Korean soldier who is saved on a reconnaissance mission by a pair of North Korean soldiers, one of them played by Song Kang-ho. Lee is thankful to the North Koreans and sends them gifts. He develops a friendship with his enemies and establishes a routine of crossing the border and fraternizing. He ropes his new partner into the friendship and the four men carry on like there is no such thing as the DMZ. At some point, the four are discovered by a North Korean officer who has a bit of a Mexican standoff with the southerners. He gets distracted by a stereo, and takes one in the head. The two South Korean soldiers and escape while the second North Korean is also left dead. The film dissects the murder scene from different points of view. The junior South Korean soldier tries to commit suicide, forcing Lee Yeong-ae to decide who tells the better story, Lee Byung-hun or Song Kang-ho. This is part of Park's greatness, he can tell the story like no one else. In the end, Lee Yeong-ae is removed from the case because she is trying to uncover the truth, rather than reinforce the official view. The two former friends turn on each other and Lee Byung-hun is eventually implicated in the death of the North Korean officer and junior soldier. He manages to wrangle the side arm from a South Korean MP and commits suicide in front of Lee Yeong-ae, who has just learned the truth of that night but has promised to deliver a report clearing the South Korean of any wrongdoing. The only soldier to survive the investigation is Song Kang-ho who continues to serve the Republic as a guard in the DMZ. Seven movies for the price of two. Not bad.

Just a Little Something

2007-06-21T21:50:00.001-04:00

It's been bugging me ever since Foxy came home from the hospital. I even tried to catch the look a few times, but what infant holds a pose? But she looks like one of my favourite actors, Oliver Platt. Although, with that face, Foxy reminds me of this guy. I couldn't find the right photo, but I'm sure I've seen this look before. Maybe this one is better.

If you think comparing the cutest baby west of the international dateline to photos of old(er) men is a mean thing to do, at least I'm not dressing my daughter in ridiculous outfits, or amusing myself by feeding her pickled onions. Ali does that sort of thing. Like mum used to say, it's cheaper than movies, and in some cases funnier. Ice cream when she's older. It would be just cruel at this age. Actually, all of our friends and family have been blessed with an acute sense of baby fashion. My fave is the handknit hand-me-down pantsuit she received from her cousin. Oh, and the cape... What baby needs a cape? Don't say Superbaby.

A Reason to Crack Open a Can of Iced Coffee

2007-06-06T00:48:00.001-04:00

I had a whole bunch of stuff I wanted to write about on here, but it's been so long now that I only remember Tommy Lee Jones and some stuff about kosher meals on my flight. We all know that Hollywood stars come to Japan to film endorsements that never get seen back in the States. A very famous example is Sean Connery's ads for Suntory whiskey, and another is Cameron Diaz' multimedia campaign for a cell phone company. You pretty much see cutouts of her in every mall you might visit. I'll bet you didn't know this, or perhaps Tommy Lee Jones doesn't want you to know but in his spare time he is a champion race horse trainer and relaxes after every win with a can(!) of Boss' Rainbow Mountain Blend iced coffee. There's no better way to celebrate for Tommy - at least that's what the commercials want you to think. I liked that commercial because at least the ad tried to tell a story. Others are just straight plugs.

I have now seen the complete filmography of Wes Anderson and I hope to see The Darjeeling Limited with Jason Schwartzman and Adrien Brody when it finally comes out. I saw The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou starring Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Anjelica Huston, Cate Blanchett, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum and Michael Gambon of Layer Cake. Also very briefly Seymour Cassels. For kicks, I asked my wife to check the video store for Bottle Rocket, but in her typical style she guessed what the clerk would say and told me they don't have it. This is the biggest problem I have with Ali - if I ask her to do something, she'll come up with a reason not to do it, or sometimes no reason at all. This is of course a small problem in the grand scheme so I don't let it bother me. too much. So we spent forty-five minutes in the place looking for Bottle Rocket because they sort it by genre. Well, what if the renter has never seen the fucking movie, dumbass? Or what if it spans several genres? How do you catalogue it then, Dewey? After some prompting at the counter, the clerk told us that Bottle Rocket wasn't in their system. I asked for Wes Anderson and she listed off everything she had. One I had never heard of before, so I asked her to get it for me. She brought back Andy's Happy Motel aka Bottle Rocket. See? We wasted forty minutes all because Ali didn't want to ask a question. We also rented Enquete Corse because it looked interesting and had Jean Reno on the cover.

I first watched The Life Aquatic which is about a whacky marine biologist whose time is torn between searching the ocean for the shark that killed his best friend and self-promotion. He makes films to show his colleagues and benefactors, and gives interviews for a cover story, and has a press agent to handle all this stuff, and runs a fan club. I found that part of the movie very intriguing. What I really liked about the film was Anderson's make believe. I don't know the actual term for it, suspension of disbelief or something, but he exaggerated the backstory to make it believable, but improbable. It wasn't a total fiction, but everything was pushed to the limit to appear as though it could have been true somewhere, but it wasn't. For example, it is possible to have a steam room designed by a scientist from the Chinese space program, but it is improbable that anyone actually does. Anderson does this in all of his movies, though not as much in his first film. Rushmore had it, The Royal Tennenbaums had a pantload of it.

In The Life Aquatic, Steve Zissou is also approached by a man who claims to be his son. Throughout most of the film, the pair spend time together and work to discover if Ned, played by Wilson is his son. Both claim that they don't know, but both do know and they know that the other knows. Neither wants to call the other a liar, so they carry on the innocent bit. Zissou tries to have an affair with an already pregnant journalist (Blanchett) who is really interested in Ned, while trying to mend things up with his wife, played by Huston. There is also a bit of a rivalry between Ned and Klaus, played by Dafoe, the first mate on the ship who has always looked up to Steve like a father.

While hunting for the shark, the boat is hijacked by pirates and an underwriter is kidnapped from the ship. Zissou searches high and low for the underwriter, whom he doesn't really like anyway, and finally finds him at a deserted resort, held captive alongside Zissou's rival and fellow researcher played by Goldblum. Klaus dynamites the hotel, finally stepping up and becoming his own man. I don't remember exactly why, but Steve and Ned, a pilot by profession, decide to take up the rickety helicopter that accompanies the Belafonte. The engine fails and the chopper crashes into the ocean. Ned bleeds out and Steve is rescued. Steve finds the shark, and does not kill it as per his contract, and manages to get another movie completed.

Before I forget, I want to mention the cutaway of the Belafonte. Apparently, this was a massive undertaking, but just by watching the film, you can already see that. There are two scenes in which the cutaway is used, the first and most artistic in my opinion is the part where Steve describes his boat. It's very well done in Anderson's way, with stage displays and music like a little vignette. Anyway, there's a reason you don't see this in a lot of Hollywood movies, and that is that it takes time and effort to put something like this together. I'm glad Anderson did it.

Although the closing credits thank but deny any association to Jacques Cousteau, it is obvious that the whole movie is heavily based on him. I guess that's part of the reason why I was drawn to this film in the first place. Being the son of a whacky marine biologist, and being well, I won't say forced... allowed to watch Cousteau's material on the telly when I was little probably helped create a personal interest in this film.

Alright, next up is Enquete Corse, or the somewhat more promising title The Corsican File starring Jean Reno, Christian Clavier, and Caterina Murino who also appeared in Casino Royale which starred Daniel Craig from a great movie called Layer Cake. Ahem, anyway I nearly shut this one off because of the cheesy music at the opening. It was clear that this was not a cloak and dagger type film as the box cover photo had insinuated. That's all I had to go on. Everything was written in Japanese. So the opening credits mentioned that the film was based on a comic book. As I reached for the eject button on the remote, I remembered that actually some of my preferred films are based on comic books. For instance, Ichii the Killer. I'd give Jean Reno another chance. The movie was essentially a live action retelling of the comic book, and though I applaud the fact that they stayed true to the original I also feel that this was their Achilles' heel. The movie was basically flat, telling the story of a private detective (Clavier) who is sent to deliver a letter to someone in Corsica. The private detective believes that the person he is looking for has inherited some money, but eventually discovers that his target is a fugitive and that he has been sent to Corsica to flush out the criminal.

So like I said, the movie is flat and fairly predictable if you are familiar with stereotypical French humour. They spend about half the movie playing cat and mouse, about twenty minutes cracking jokes about the differences between Islanders and Continentals, and the rest of the movie trying to sort the whole mess out - which it is, in the end. There's not much else worth mentioning about this film except that there was a character named Figoli, played by a dude named Pido. He bears a strong resemblance attitudinally to Bruno Lucia who played a character named Wayne Lovett in an Australian television show called All Together Now.

And now we come to Andy's Happy Motel, Wes Anderson's first film which was later made into a feature length film starring co-writer Owen Wilson, his brothers Luke and Andrew Wilson, James Caan, Robert Musgrave and Lumi Cavazos. So why is it called Andy's Happy Motel? Because Andy (Luke Wilson) meets Inez (Cavazos) at the motel and falls in love with her. Andy has just been "busted out" of a mental hospital by his friend Dignan, played by Owen Wilson who has also planned a crime spree to impress his former employer Mr. Henry (Caan). It appears that Dignan is a failure so far in his young life, and hopes to turn things around with this new venture. They recruit their friend Bob (Musgrave) as the wheelman and convince Mr. Henry to let them do a job. Mr. Henry is more than happy to let them handle a heist at a refrigerated warehouse, and very soon it is understood why. Bob comes from a wealthy family, and any reason to get Bob and his friends out of the house is a good reason because while Dignan and Bob and Andy are trying to rob the refrigerated warehouse, Mr. Henry is robbing Bob. Simple. Of course, Dignan loses control of the robbery at the warehouse and one of his crew is shot. While the rest of the crew scatter, Dignan goes back into the warehouse to get Applejack, played by Jim Ponds. He believes he won't get caught because he is "fuckin' innocent". He gets caught and serves twenty-four months in jail, while everyone else gets away with it. Dignan has a fascination with bottle rockets, and I guess that's why the film is called Bottle Rocket, but it could also be used as a metaphor for Dignan's life. Quick, fast, brilliant and then suddenly, nothing. He serves time in jail believing that he will be able to continue this criminal enterprise upon release and shows that he doesn't quite learn from his mistakes. We never really find out because the movie ends right there. I liked this movie, but it was easy to see why the initial cut received poor ratings from the focus groups. The story is hardly original, but it is told in a very simple way and it is clear why Wes Anderson has become a much sought-after Hollywood director.

Kibbutzing in Kyoto

2007-05-28T03:36:00.001-04:00

And now that we have that little surprise out of the way, I can get on with Dax Watches Movies. This all happened before I watched Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, but I wanted to put it after (above) the post about the film because I did say that my next post, that one, would be about a movie.

By the way, her name is Foxy Cleopatra. Because I was watching Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold like an idiot, instead of going to the hospital to be near my wife while Foxy was born. Oh, and Foxy because of Pam Grier, but I didn't really have to type that out, did I?

I was never promised a rose garden, and I am not the type of person to expect one but I was promised a wedding party. I won't say by whom, but a wedding party was promised. For such purpose, I shlepped my tuxedo (not the rental in the wedding photos, but my actual tux), and two of my best suits and all the extra bits to Tokyo. Well, it turns out that I brought an extra bag because there was/will be no wedding party. Instead, Kohei-san had planned a tidy little three day trip to Kyoto for Ali and me. Kohei and Genya Number Two would shadow. Separate hotels and trains and such, but they were never not there. That turned out to be a good thing.

On the second day Ali and her father were feeling a little under the weather. I put that down to the deep-fried fish bones they ate the night before at the sexiest restaurant I've ever been to. Ali was not doing well for a completely different reason, and slowly got worse as the day progressed. In the early hours of the third day, Ali conked my forehead with a hotel tumbler and rather loudly said, "Hello Fuckface. Get up and ring [Genya Number Two]. You stupid fuckface, get up!" I still can't pronounce the guy's name, but whatever. I dialed the number, so many numbers, and before I could even get my trousers on the night manager was there with two really big dudes and a stretcher. Moments later, GNT and Kohei arrived and rang for an ambulance. The two big dudes went away with the stretcher, and three dudes with a stretcher replaced them. These guys looked official, they had white helmets and first aid kits and all that. We went downstairs to the ambulance and while Ali, Kohei and I waited in the back of the van, GNT and the driver spoke in hushed tones about which hospital to take us to. The driver got a little excited and at that point GNT had to speak over him. I'm guessing GNT doesn't like to raise his voice because that was the last thing said by anybody apart from radio chatter until we arrived at Kyoto First Red Cross Hospital.

It's at this point that I should mention that Japanese hospitals are weird. I've never been in a hospital where everything except the emerg is shut between 8:00 pm and 8:00 am. Ali was in labour, so the doctor admitted her and gave her some muscle relaxants to delay contractions and antibiotics for nothing. She was four and a half weeks early, so the doctor didn't want things to escalate. Because we had some very expensive non-refundable shinkansen tickets and I had an assignment due, we swapped out. Ali's mum came down to Kyoto and Kohei, GNT and I all went back to Tokyo. I buried my nose in the books and had the assignment done in record time - all for nought, but I didn't know that then.

Two days pass, and we wait. We got the call while watching Cleopatra Jones, at about 10:00 that Ali was going into the delivery room. We were standing on the platform at Tokyo Station waiting for our train to Kyoto when we got another call. The baby was born. I had to wait for a third call before I could know the gender. Mr. and Mrs. K don't say a lot when they talk to each other. Which is why we didn't know sooner that Ali was in labour and why several calls are needed sometimes. Speaking later with the doctor, the only person in Kyoto besides the overworked hotel clerk who actually tried to speak English, I was informed that Foxy came out so fast there was an audible "pa-shoon" sound in the delivery room.

This time, I brought my books with me. GNT set me up in a business hotel, not the nice hotel I was in the first time I was in Kyoto. I don't know where he stayed and I don't want to know, but he wore the same clothes and they never got dirty. Mr. and Mrs. K stayed somewhere downtown close to Kyoto Tower. On the second day, Foxy had to be transferred to the NICU and be held for observation. She did well, and was released earlier than expected but after a reasonably safe time in the hospital. In perhaps a surreal way, we did some more sightseeing in Kyoto while Ali and Foxy were in the hospital.

It was starting to get to me. My hotel included Viking, which is what many Japanese people say to refer to a buffet meal. They know they are the only ones who say it, so when a gaijin like myself walks into the restaurant, they also say buffet but in the French way not the American way with the short u. It always makes me laugh to hear it that way because it reminds me every time of a line in La Reine Margot when Daniel Auteuil as Henri says he wants to get down and dirty with the Queen. All the chicks in my French class cringed. Back to the point - it was getting to me. Every morning I was reminded of Randy at the deli (or delica as they say in Japan) in Patterson:

"Who do I have to blow to get some decent pumpernickel in this place?" Spoons dropped, and chatter stopped but somebody quickly ushered Randy's less than acceptable Reuben away.

"You know they're gonna spit in the new one, dude".

"I don't care. If it's quality bread I'll take my chances". Not for a second did I think he was serious, and he wasn't. He checked.

I couldn't get any milk for my tea. I was getting rather frustrated because they always gave me cream as if it's the same thing. It's not, it cannot be. Even after painstakingly using words that I know they use in Japanese, the staff still couldn't understand. I guess because even if I say it perfectly, I'm still a gaijin so I can't possibly be saying something Japanese. The only thing that prevented me from getting angry was a little perspective. I thought back to Donny K., and the hissy he threw because he couldn't get a proper cuppa in the Andes. At the time I thought he was being ridiculous. I felt like offering to go outside and milk the nearest llama, but Don was serious so I thought I shouldn't make light. In my situation, it would have seemed even more ridiculous to have a hissy because I wasn't sitting in a shack at a multinational goldmine in Peru. I was in Kyoto, and if I swung a cat I'd hit at least one mini-mart, and a pachinko parlour. So instead, I told myself it could be worse and sipped my tea, ate my scrambled eggs wih chopsticks and listened to Bryan Adams muzak. So perfectly Japanese.

On my last night in Kyoto Mr. K decided it was time to eat. He often thinks of food, in fact he never stops thinking of food. We had to find a place to eat. We roamed the back streets of Kyoto and I spied a sign for Red Stripe. I said we should eat there because they have Red Stripe. Boy, was I wrong. After being mocked by the waitress, I went to the barman and led him outside to the poster of Red Stripe. He apologized and said that the poster was actually for a promo and handed me a flyer for a Jamaican dancehall gig that was happening up the street every Saturday. Like many people, I can't turn down Jamaican dancehall but there was Perspective again, encouraging me to think about my wife and newly arrived daughter. I just shook my head and asked for two large Asahi. It was during this meal that I witnessed the near collapse of a marriage and the birth of a new plan. Flowcharts and timelines determined what was in the best interests of everyone involved. Mr. K, myself and GNT would again return to Tokyo and Mrs. K would stay there to help Ali with anything.

Ali and Foxy and Mrs. K came home when Foxy was a week old, and I met them at Tokyo Station. Foxy is a good baby. She doesn't cry and she sleeps most of the time. I almost want to say that Enzo J didn't get enough sleep when he was that age because I remember that he was up a lot. Sissy was fixing bottles too often it seemed. That's a step Ali has managed to avoid, but it just feels like this baby is too easy.

Northern Monkies and Southern Fairies

2007-05-28T01:56:00.001-04:00

So it was pretty shitty here in Tokyo for the last week or so. I did mention in one of my videos that I hate Tokyo. That is not entirely correct. I like Tokyo, but I don't like some things about Tokyo. I may have mentioned in an earlier post that I can be a nightmare house guest, and that almost happened last week. I'm trying to remain positive, so I won't dwell but I am starting to feel a little like Bob Harris. Not the guy who used to do The Old Grey Whistle Test on BBC, but the guy in Lost in Translation. As it turns out, that is exactly the problem.

My wife recommended that we rent a few videos, and so we went to Tsutaya and got three. I always have to be pushed to watch a Wes Anderson film, but I did in this case as it seemed the shop had way too many copies available. We also rented Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, a film I'd always meant to see but which was marketed in very strange way. Which is the secondary reason why I still haven't seen Snatch, the primary reason being Brad Pitt. We got a third film starring Jean Reno which I know nothing about. I got around to watching Lock, Stock and Two Barrels today, and it was really nice. A little violent and very similar graphically to another Mathew Vaughn film, Layer Cake. You may have heard of it. Oh, did I mention? I watched Casino Royale before I left Newark. Very good work from Daniel Craig albeit in the ironclad James Bond format, but I like his work in Layer Cake better. Layer Cake. Dexter Fletcher of Layer Cake and also of Press Gang co-stars as Soap alongside Jason Statham as Bacon and Nick Moran as Eddie, investors in a card game. Moran is the card player and is warned by his father played by Sting to not play cards. Where does Sting find the time? Anyway, Eddie goes to the game which is fixed and loses his shirt - and 500,000 pounds.

He finds a way to steal the money back, by ripping of his neighbours who are in turn planning to do what we like to call a grow rip. That is, they plan to rob a marijuana growing/selling operation run by as it seems Steven Mackintosh aka Winston who also played Nigel, the best friend in The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4. It's only tended by Winston, and is run by Rory Breaker who also happens to be the proposed client of the grow rip proceeds. Only because the rippers don't really know the rippees, or that Breaker runs the show. The sale is brokered by Nick the Greek, a bumbling fence who only knows half the story, as does anyone else.

All the while, the guy who set up the crooked card game also really, really, pretty please wants two rifles that are up for auction. Only he doesn't want them to go to auction. He wants them to be stolen so he asks his Genya to arrange the acquisition. Barry "the Baptist" played by Lenny McLean recruits two "Northern Monkeys", Gary and Dean played by Victor McGuire and Jake Abraham respectively. There's also a collector who plays a part in all of this, but he stays on the periphery with Sting until the very end.

So Gary and Dean retrieve the rifles as requested, but because they are not in the gun cabinet, they claim them as their own and sell them to Nick the Greek, who sells them to his associate Tom, Jason Flemyng who needs some firepower for the rip. The first group of thieves go to the grow op and make a complete cock up of the whole thing, but get away with the money and as much weed as they can carry. Eddie, Soap, Bacon and Tom are all waiting back at the neighbours' ready to take the money. For some stupid reason, they only take the money next door to Eddie's flat. The neighbours find it, and when Rory Breaker comes calling he catches the first group rather than the group that has been ratted out by Nick the Greek. Rory's group and the first group pretty much finish each other off, meanwhile Gary and Dean have been warned that they must locate the two missing rifles. Unknowingly, the two attempt to get the rifles back from the guy who wanted them in the first place. Gary and Dean don't last long against the two rifles, but end up eliminating Barry and his boss in the process. The collector, who works for the boss too, had delivered the 500,000 pound account moments before, only to be told to retrieve it by one of the original thieves whom he stole it from in the first place, and who was now holding the collector's son hostage. After being summoned, Eddie and Tom go back to the boss' office only to find Gary, Dean, Barry and the boss all dead. Eddie takes the money, and Tom stays behind to collect the rifles. He really likes them for some reason. In a panic, on the way back to the office to get the money, the collector rams Eddie's car and manages to wrangle the money back. Eddie, Tom, Soap and Bacon are all sent down for the crime, but are released because they are not part of the original group and the only witness cannot identify them. The four decide that they don't need the money because the debt is no longer collectible, at which time the collector comes in with the money bag. He hands it to them with a fair warning that if they ever try to find him, he will kill them. He leaves Sting's bar and rides off into the sunset with his son. The group open the bag only to find that it is empty save for an auction catalogue. Tom has been sent off to destroy the rifles because these are the only things that connect them to the crime. While he is away, the three remaining thieves discover that the rifles are worth upwards of 250,000 pounds each. They frantically try to ring him as the movie ends with Tom trying to answer his phone and grab the rifles as he hangs precariously off the rail of a bridge.

The ending leaves it open for interpretation. Did Tom fetch his beloved guns and race off into the night to profit at auction? Or did he take them back to the bar so that each could gain equally? Or did he let the guns fall into the river? I hate these endings. All that work to tie everything together and Guy Ritchie leaves one little thread hanging. Silly. Apart from the ending, a very good movie. I would like to see more work from Nick Moran. Maybe when I get back to Newark.

I don't hate Tokyo anymore. I hate the fact that my credit cards work at half a dozen cash machines in the city, and that Visa in particular employs staff to lie to me about it even after I have been put on record as having told them so. I hate that people don't listen to me and assume they know what I want more than I do. I got together with Yumi yesterday, an old acquaintance and she showed me around. It was quite nice. We found a Tully's, and hid in there for awhile. That is the first time I've ever had to wait to be seated at a coffee shop - and that is exactly what Yumi hates about Tokyo. Later we went for Indian food. Very nice. I came home and watched the Monte Carlo Grand Prix in Japanese. It was a good day.

Ill Prepared, He Journeyed On...

2007-04-28T18:41:00.000-04:00

I woke up late this morning trying to scramble to the bank before it shut, and I was greeted by a note in the lifts saying that they might be taken out of service today. Cursing softly under my breath with Caruso on the iPod, I prepared to hoof it down thirteen storeys to the lobby. Luckily, the lifts hadn't been shut down yet and I was able to make it to the ground a lot quicker. The doors of the lift opened and I was greeted by two SWAT members with machine guns pointed at my face. You'd think I'd say something involuntarily, but I couldn't. My knees just buckled and I dropped to the floor, instinctively lacing my fingers behind my head. The two officers stepped back, lowered their guns and told me to stand up and exit the lift. I walked in to the main part of the lobby and noticed a mix of about twenty more SWAT and police officers.

Casually lounging on the sofa yakking on his Blackberry was the Police Media Relations Officer. Media crews were waiting outside, including one from the station that plays all the Bollywood movies. I went over to him and asked what had happened. Apparently, I slept through the whole episode. He said that some of my neighbours had been hoarding restricted and illegal weapons and possibly explosives in one of the flats in the upper third of the building. I automatically thought it might be my organized crime neighbours, you know - the guys who double and triple park their Cads and Maseratis in the carpark. I have to say that they are only allegedly members of organized crime, and happen to be really nice guys. Well, I found out later that it wasn't them, wrong floor. I made it to the bank just in time.

Sissy had come for a visit a few days ago and noticed an increased police presence on my block. I shrugged it off saying that the police always use my street as a shortcut back to the main depot. Well, the next day I was woken up at about 10:00 by a low flying helicopter. The MRO denied that this was part of the police operation, but did mention that the Armed Forces had been called in. Just to show how blissfully unaware some people can be, I told Sissy what went down today and she told me that it might have been a terrorist cell. The thought never occurred to me. I guess I've always felt that lightning wouldn't strike twice. I've got to check the news tonight to see what it actually was, but I seriously doubt it was what Sissy said. The building was never evacuated, so I don't think there was a serious threat.

On to other things - The next instalment of Dax Watches Movies will originate FROM JAPAN! I don't know exactly how I'll manage to watch a film without subtitles, but I'll think of something. I've been taking my sweet time getting ready for this trip. Yesterday, I went out for lunch with a friend from Singapore. It was nice to catch up with her and talk about old times. I tried to do some more homework before going to the salon one last time before I hit Tokyo. Trey worked his magic and was done a lot sooner than I expected. I had plenty of time before I was supposed meet my buddy Randy. Haven't seen him since Air Guitar Nation, but he's got a gift card to a swish Italian restaurant that he's been dying to use up so he took me out for dinner. He was a little late, so I started with a free bottle of Moretti and waited. Already feeling guilty about all the calories in the beer, I ordered swordfish and grilled vegetables with rice. Fish is supposed to be healthier, and it is but it kind of negates the whole dieting aspect when they give you a meal big enough for three. On the way home, we checked out a car dealership because I have recently discovered that my Jeep is not suited for baby seats. Of course, it behoves Randy to visit the luxury lot. Maybe it was because I told him that I had priced out a Quattroporte coupe, but it might also be because that's how Randy is. I gazed at the Ferraris as Randy snidely remarked that the yellow one was well within my price range. Sure, but there was no place to put a baby seat, let alone a diaper bag. We continued in the direction of Randy's place and came across some really good ideas. A Volkswagen or a Honda, something simple that Ali can actually drive. Sissy and I had seen a Toyota Matrix with 2 baby seats and a jogging stroller all crammed in. Randy gave me some more ideas. Things elsewhere are moving along nicely. Jay is putting together an album with another DJ, and they will probably have moved their monthly gig away from the lesbian bar by the time I get back. Too bad, I really liked that lesbian bar. Good times.

I have no idea what I'm in for. Bobby took me to the bookstore to buy my birthday present hoping that at least 1 of the major brand of guidebooks would have something to say about Ali's hometown. Not one. In fact - Lonely Planet I believe - actually wrote in their most recent book that there was absolutely no reason to go east of Tokyo because there's nothing of interest to tourists. Google Maps? What a joke! I can't read Japanese so I can't read their stupid maps. My poor pregnant wife is going to have to take me everywhere. I did find a nice hike I want to take though, but Ali won't be able to go with.

Oldboy

2007-04-07T20:12:00.000-04:00

I've completed the Vengeance Trilogy, finally. I didn't necessarily watch them in order, but there is no order in the sense that the film's are somehow related. I'm actually glad I saw them in the order that I did. The Jesus waif at the video store was right. Chinjeolhan geumjassi is the one to see first. I met a couple of Korean girls the other day who were lost, trying to find a Korean grocery. They're lucky they grabbed me. I took them straight away, and as we made our way downtown we had a nice chat about Korean television and movies. They were quite surprised that I knew Full House. I think I accidentally saw a Mandarin-dubbed version of it the last time I went to visit Bob. They agreed that Chinjeolhan geumjassi was a great film, and had only praise for Choi Min-sik, but suggested that I watch more of Li Yeong-ae's work.

I didn't know how to feel after I watched Oldboy. Again, the need for vengeance is explained very well, and the concept of justice is striking but I think it's more challenging to decide who is right in this one. Both of the main characters have committed wrongs, but I guess in the end I side with Oh Dae-su, who has clearly suffered more than Lee Woo-jin. There is a lot of common imagery between this film and Chinjeolhan - snowy mountains, a schoolhouse, abandoned flats, a salon, funky wallpaper and of course prisons. The music is remarkable in this film as well, and if I can get my hands on the soundtrack to any of the three films, it would be a good day.

The set up goes like this, if you've read the comic then you can skip this part: A drunk is released from police custody by his longtime friend No Joo-hwan played by Ji Dae-han who also appears in Chinjeolhan. I recognized him by the way he eats a bowl of ramen in the cafe. While Joo-hwan is on the telephone explaining to Dae-su's wife what has happened, Dae-su goes missing. The film continues to follow Dae-su's confinement. He's held in some kind of prison, but it's not a government prison that's obvious. He makes a list of all the people who might want to do this to him, and spends fifteen years getting in shape and vowing revenge. He doesn't really plan his revenge like Geumjassi did, but he's plenty mad. He's sick of eating substandard gyoza, and I can sympathize. He manages to dig his way out of the cell, almost only to find himself next breaking out of a suitcase on a rooftop. He meets a guy who wants to jump off the roof, but Dae-su won't let him. He wants to tell the guy played by Oh Kwang-rok who also played one of the anarchists in Boksuneun naui geot and appeared in Chinjeolhan, his story of vengeance. As Dae-su walks away from the block of flats, we see the jumper fall to his death, mashing in the roof of a perfectly good Kia (I think).

It's on, Oh Dae-su is free and he wants to kick some ass. He knows that his wife is dead and that he has been framed for her death. He comes across some grubs on the pavement and takes a cigarette from one of them. They don't take kindly to that, and attempt to kick his ass. Oh comes back with some very good moves, allegedly peformed by Choi himself, and goes on his way. Sitting on the pavement staring at a fish tank, he is approached by a homeless guy who hands him a cellphone and a wallet. I think the wallet is full of money, but I don't know what won look like so maybe it was just paper. He's hungry and makes his way to a sushi restaurant and asks for something living. The chef thinks that she has met Oh before, but they decide that it must be because of her television show that Oh watched while in confinement. She hands him a small octopus and he doesn't waste any time filling his stomach. He receives a call on the cell phone and it happens to be the voice of his captor. He collapses and the sushi chef takes him home. There's a reason for all this seemingly normal behaviour which is revealed later in the movie. While Dae-su sleeps, Mi-do, played by Kang Hye-jeong reads his journals. She's fascinated by his story, but he doesn't like her reading it.

Oh decides that the only way he can find his captor is to locate the shitty dumpling shop that used to deliver his meals. He remembers seeing a tag to the Blue Dragon restaurant. He tries every Blue Dragon restaurant in Seoul, but can't find the right mix of ingredients. Almost losing hope, he sees one last add and checks out the cuisine. Score. After telling Mi-do that he can't trust her, he takes a hammer from her flat and chases the delivery boy back to the block of flats where he was kept. He fights his way onto the floor and discovers that the place is totally wired for video and that the surveillance company has had a contract to do what they did to Dae-su. He goes to town on the manager's jaw with the hammer, and then the crew and pretty much kicks butt. He likes to fight, and gets stabbed in the back which doesn't hinder him.

Thinking that his daughter has been adopted by a Swedish family, he plods on trying to piece together the mystery. He visits his old friend Joo-hwan who runs an internet cafe. They google the alias of the captor and find a connection with their old school. Oh goes to the school and rifles through the records to discover the identity of his captor. A rather youngish Lee Woo-jin played by Yu Ji-tae who's actually younger than I, but is meant to play a character who finished school more than ten years before me. Tsk tsk tsk. At the school, Oh gets all the clues he needs - he discovers a flyer for a salon where he learns of the connection between himself and Woo-jin. It goes back to his friend Joo-hwan who is killed while giving details about Woo-jin and making disparaging remarks about Woo-jin's sister in the process. Woo-jin just happened to be listening.

It seems that Woo-jin's sister, Soo-ah, played by Yun Jin-seo had an undeservedly bad reputation and this caused her to kill herself. In turn, Woo-jin swore that he would kill every woman the perpetrator of the rumours had ever loved. See, Woo-jin had loved his sister in that unnatural highly taboo way. He believed that it was consensual and therefore not exactly wrong. This is pretty much why I can't give him any sympathy for what he ends up doing. He attributes the rumours to Oh Dae-su, and after the highschool retrospective is over Dae-su learns that he has unknowingly allowed Woo-jin to regain custody of Mi-do. At this point, the viewer is treated to the final bit of mystery - a piece of mystery I had figured out after the sushi restaurant scene. Woo-jin shows a photo album to Dae-su in which he learns that he has been diddling his own daughter. He begs Woo-jin not to tell Mi-do, which he agrees to do after Dae-su cuts off his own tongue and grovels at the feet of Lee. As Dae-su is left spitting blood in the aftermath of a gun battle which featured Kim Byeong-ok as Mr. Han, and also as the weirdo preacher guy in Chinjeolhan, Lee goes down in the elevator and shoots himself in the head.

Disgusted with himself, Oh Dae-su disappears. This is the part I said I would explain later, earlier. While in confinement, Dae-su had been visited by a hypnotist who programmed him to think that Mi-do was just some chick, and to fall in love with her. Woo-jin had also been looking after Mi-do since the death of her mother, there never was any adoptive Swedish family, and he had hypnotized her to act in certain ways when she would later meet Dae-su. After the whole shoe-licking, tongue-cutting episode in the penthouse, Dae-su tracks down the hypnotist and convinces her to hypnotize him again so that he can forget everything that he has done to Mi-do. She agrees, and Mi-do finds him in the mountains and I think that was the end.

It has occurred to me that my posts, particularly the ones about movies, were much more interesting if I wrote them while drunk. Things have changed, haven't they?

Andrew Collins... You Will Be Missed

2007-04-07T19:54:00.000-04:00

I listen to BBC - BBC Asian Network, BBC7, 6Music and occasionally Radio 4. It started because I couldn't stand the monotony of my job. A little music, I thought was better than other options because I could do two things at once. Work and listen. You can't really work and talk to your only friend on Instant Messenger at the same time like one of my ex-coworkers would do. Andrew Collins' was the first show I listened to. He used to do the late afternoon slot which was late morning for me. Good music, intelligent conversation and funny anecdotes. They moved his timeslot to weekends where he would do two shorter shows, rather than five 3-hour weekday slots. And now that's over too. At first I thought that the BBC had decided not to renew his contract, because there are whole lot of others who left 6 at the same time, but it seems that Andrew is a man of many interests and had decided to try something a little different now. He's writing, and blogging about stuff like movies, and theatre. See his blog here. I don't know if I'll go back to 6music anymore - I can't listen at work and Phil Jupitus is gone as well.

Apparenty Not a DVD Recorder

2007-03-30T20:15:00.000-04:00

Ali sent me a package today and had told me that there was something extra in it. I knew it was the wedding DVD - her video-grapher friend sent the DVD from Manhattan to Tokyo and then Ali sent it back to Newark. From the size of the box, I thought the "extra" might be the DVD recorder that Kohei promised me the day he went home. According to the letter that came with the box, it's sake but Ali doesn't know if it's any good. Oh, and two sake glasses and some chocs. I'm set.

300... Air Guitarists

2007-03-29T00:31:00.000-04:00

Jukka. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? It's a homonym to Yuka, so it's not like Ali can ever say she can't pronounce it. It doesn't have -ko on the end of it so Ali can't exercise her veto, and the twist is that Jukka is a dude's name. I don't think Finns have those names what both genders use like Hindi or something. Either way: Jukka for a boy or Yuka for a girl.

Nope. Sorry, this ain't a post about the movie 300, instead it's a wee rant about baby names with a piece on a documentary sandwiched in. The documentary is opening locally Friday and is called Air Guitar Nation. Technically, this film isn't starring anybody, but it centres around an actor named David Jung aka C-Diddy, and another guy who just won't take no for an answer. Dan Crane's stage name is Björn Töuroque and the story basically takes off from there.

Sensing a lack of American representation in a, well let's call it a competition, documentary film maker Kriston Rucker decides to promote the Air Guitar World Championships and find someone decent enough to represent the US. As it happens, the winning American was chosen at the first set of tryouts, but another person seems to think that he is the real talent and shadows the American winner to Oulu, Finland for the competition. Essentially, Rucker had no better reason to promote (send someone to) this competition other than the fact that no American had been officially entered into the contest. There are attempts in the film to play up the anti-American sentiment that was prevalent in much of Europe at the time, but there were also reminders of why the contest was ever conceived. The event organizers wanted everyone to play air guitar so that they wouldn't hold a gun. After a lame attempt to cause some friction between one of the Americans and some Austrian contestants, it's pretty clear that no one is a hater.

Of course, in a Cinderella-type story Jung is the overall winner in Oulu and unfortunately for Crane, the three-time loser is not able to make an impression the following year. It's a nice kind of film - the story of an actor who's always had to prove himself to his traditional Korean family who wanted him to go into medicine vs. a guy who, if nothing else, lives for air guitar. The viewers are introduced to a group of people who take the hobby very seriously. Some sort of division apparently exists between American air guitarists who only think it's fun and their international counterparts who really take the thing to a whole new level. Boot camps, zen philosophies, entourages - it's not just a hobby for some people.

When I won the preview passes to this film, I knew it would be a little like The Aristocrats, and there was only one person I could think of to watch the movie with. I didn't find too many funny moments in the film, but my buddy could hardly drink his coffee without coughing because of all the jokes. Of course, being Scandinavian maybe there were more jokes for him than for most. There was however, that unfortunate phenomenon at many preview screenings: the drunk prize winner. In our case, the guy was having entirely too much fun for one person and probably felt like he was right there amongst the reindeer, cheering on the contestants. Maybe he wasn't drunk, maybe he just doesn't get out often - it's hard to tell, but he ruined it for at least a few viewers.

In a way, I'd like to see Ali in the tryouts next year. She plays a mean air guitar, and has the head banging down pat when it comes to Black Sabbath. And she's got the vertical leap too. Really, I just want a reason to go to Finland and practice the language/accent. There's just not enough of it in Formula One anymore. Actually, there's more than usual but I haven't got cable.

If Ali had her way the choices of a baby name would be limited to one of those dreadful boy bands what aren't around anymore. And if it's a girl (which I hope it is) then Ali's screwed. There's only one girl band she knows of and I'm not naming my kid Scary or Sporty or whatever.

Some Interesting Developments

2007-03-10T00:35:00.000-05:00

What a month! I really should be studying for an exam right now, but I’m not – it’s like the least important thing on my list. My biggest problem is the lack of a DVD burner on my computer. My wedding photographer put all the photos on DVD discs and I have no way to make copies for Ali. I’m not complaining, the guy did me a big solid – flying out from LA on Oscars’ weekend with his crew (free of charge) because he felt that my little wedding was more important than shooting stars on the red carpet. Or maybe it was a chance to see Sissy again. I just learned how to turn the flash off on my camera yesterday, so learning to use the DVD burner should be loads of fun.

The engagement officially lasted a whole three days, and the actual time spent with the in-laws was maximized on purpose. Kohei turned out to be not so scary. Genya is much more menacing, but I think physical stature has a lot to do with that. Kohei turned out to be quite a joker. It’s easy to see where Ali gets her sense of humour from. The day they arrived, I went round to their hotel in my beautifully maintained Jeep and took them out for sushi so that they could meet Bob and the rest of my immediate family. It was a little crowded. Enzo and Kohei got along pretty well. He actually talked Enzo into eating raw fish. I took note of his cunning negotiating tactics. Of course, Bob had earlier invoked the “either/or” rule and somehow got himself uninvited to the wedding. Undaunted, he showed everyone he was still a big macher and handed my fiancée an envelope. Politely, we declined to open it but the next day I nearly fainted. The week before at Chinese New Year, I had received my first and only ang pow, and was quite surprised at the content of that envelope. It had nothing on Bob’s envelope. I took it to the bank immediately, and it will cover the cost of the wedding with lots of room to spare. We could have taken a honeymoon with the residual – oh wait. No we couldn’t. Ali made that clear from the very start. No honeymoon.

The next day I took the inlaws out for Malaysian food. A new restaurant with “the best Hokkien mee outside of KL”. The owner is very gung-ho about his new shop. “No place else has this dish, at least not this good”. That’s a challenge if I ever heard one. Ali and her mum had laksa, Kohei had the beef rendang and I had the char kway teow. We shared a plate of Hokkien mee, and a couple roti canai. Pretty good – my wedding diet was now dead – but there might have been a place or two in Singapore where I might have had better Hokkien mee. Can’t say really, quality is so subjective. Back to the hotel for sake, oysters and salsa. You can take Kohei out of Mexico, but you can’t take Mexico out of Kohei. Friday was a more casual day. I left Baby at home for this one, and got a hold of a sweet Chrysler 300. Orange Peel planned a get together with my mum’s side of the family and my niece gave us some spare rings in case I was stupid enough to lose the other rings. She heard I was stupid. My aunt carefully listened as I clarified a few things with the kinfolk, jotting down little details which she would later use in a speech at the wedding. She basically stole half my speech, but I acquitted myself quite well when the time came.

The day of the wedding, I did everything Sissy had written on the schedule. I drove to the hotel in the Chrysler to meet with the photographer. Sissy warned me and she was right. As soon as we got in the hotel room door it was a free for all. Flashes going off everywhere, and Ali wasn’t even back from the hair salon yet. We were a bit late getting from the hotel to the wedding. There was no way I was going to become a bad cliché – I was getting to my wedding on time. Completely forgetting that Kohei had never seen the surroundings, I drove like a bat out of hell to get to the venue. Perhaps I was trying to show off my wheelman skills as a potential job interview, but I was mostly pissed at the tourists stopping in the middle of the parkway to take snaps. The moment had come to unleash the full eight cylinders. Mrs. Kobayashi managed to maintain composure in the back seat chatting up a storm with Ali, but I noticed in the rear view that Kohei was looking a little sick and hanging on for dear life, silently. That was the tell, he wasn't talking, so when we made it through the tourist traffic, I slowed down. We ended up getting there early, but Ali wasn't very happy. Her disappointment was brief.

Sissy, Orange Peel and my cousin Cece made sure everything went off perfectly. A small wedding and reception for thirty people was on order and it's exactly as Ali and I had imagined. My only regret was that it was over a lot sooner than I probably would have wanted. I didn't feel I was the best host (technically, I wasn't the host) because I was trying to entertain the guests and at the same time trying to give the photogs everything they wanted. After the reception we shlepped around downtown getting MORE photos - 1500 in total.

After the wedding, some of the family went out for a relaxing dinner. And the in-laws left the next day. We eventually figured out how to use the sunroof, about a half hour before I had to return the 300. I got a day off work so that Ali and I could sort out her koseki and then she left a few days later.

I haven’t been doing a lot of movie watching lately, but did happen to catch A Touch of Pink starring Suleka Mathew and Jimi Mistry. I won’t spend too much time on this except to say that I was a little upset that Suleka was cast to portray the mother. When I learned of this movie, I thought she’d portray the girlfriend or something closer to her real age. There was, for some reason, an actor portraying Cary Grant in the film. I didn’t understand this at first and thought perhaps the filmmaker, Ian Iqbal Rashid was trying to suggest something about Grant’s personal life. It all became clear in the end that Grant is how Mistry’s character imagines his father, a man he doesn’t truly remember. Linguistically, I have to say well done to all the actors, especially to Kyle MacLachlan, the guy who played Grant. Apparently, all the american actors used false English/Indian accents while Mistry faked an American one. Mistry was probably the weakest actually, his accent would stray now and then. Lastly, this film is not unlike Hsi yen, a film made more than ten years earlier starring Winston Chao, and pretty much like every other film about interracial relationships. I guess we could always use one more.

Work is moving along, evil Tintin is now just inexplicably irritated Tintin. My contract could wind up any day now, but that’s okay because I’ve got other plans. Married life is pretty much the same as usual right now. Ali’s back in Japan, and Kohei eagerly awaits my arrival. I just need my passport for that and I’m set. The question of exactly how long I’ll be in Japan still has to be resolved, but it’ll probably be longer than most of my trips. I’m toying with the idea of going for three months, but then I thought about leaving everything here alone for three months and decided that maybe two months or one month would be better.

Finally, a Wedding Reception Where I Won't be Serving

2007-02-11T20:59:00.000-05:00

So ummm, yeah. It's been quite awhile since I've posted an entry about movies, or about anything for that matter. I was hoping to bring a review of Old Boy by Park Chan-uk, but I haven't really had time for that lately. Things are going better at work, slightly. I was asked to interview for a posting in a different part of the company which would have moved me away from evil Tintin, but he's not so evil anymore. I get him, and he gets me so we kind of feed off of each other in good way. It's still shite, but at least we're working together.

I saw The Departed again last night with Orange Peel and her boyfriend. If I needed any further proof that nobody reads this blog, OP's boyfriend asked me if I had seen this movie. Of course I had man, I reviewed it like 3 months ago. I left about halfway through the movie though because I wanted to get home to watch a Texas Hold'em tournament which happened not to air, but also because I was holding precious and semi-precious stones and I didn't want to get mugged in late night Newark.

Security is out the window now. Which is one very good reason not to let your girlfriend leave the country with your backup set of door keys. I came home one particularly shitty afternoon only to find a hard-looking Asian dude sitting very comfortably on the settee. He looked at me with a goofy grin and said "Irashai-i!", but before I could figure out what was going on, he swooped around me and blocked the door.

"Relax, Dax. Sit down... You know me, don't you? I'm a friend of Ali's, I'm Genya. As you know, your life is undergoing big changes right now and Kohei-san has sent me here to give you good encouragement".

"Huh?"

"Kohei-san and his wife want some assurances. We know you are a good guy and that you want to do the right thing, but even good guys get scared sometimes".

I was stunned. Mostly because Genya's English was a lot better than I had ever imagined, but also partly because I was still trying to figure out how he ever got into my flat.

"How did you bloody....?"

He dangled Ali's key fob in front of me and giggled a little like a girl for a second, and then tossed the fob onto the kitchen marble. I scanned the flat quickly, the safe was untouched, and did some mental calculations to decide if I could make it down the hall to my night stand in time. I decided not to try.

He could see that I was trying to figure out what to do so he grabbed my shoulders and turned me away from the door.

"Calm down. We're not in Japan, my options are limited here. You're part of the family now! We should be celebrating. I just want to talk to you for a little bit so I can report good news back to Kohei-san". And then he smacked me, patted my shoulder, and hopped into the kitchen.

"Where is the sake? I know you've got some in this place".

"I don't keep it in the kitchen. It's in the bar, next to the dining table".

"Sit down man! I'll pour - you don't take it heated do you?"

"No. Are you going to hit me again?"

"I don't think so, as long as we work toward the common goal".

"Huh?"

"You know, reading the same book", as he unfolded his hands into the shape of an open book.

"Oh, you mean the same page!"

"Ah, yes! Sorry for my English. Sometimes your idioms are very strange. Sit! Sit! Cheers, old boy!"

We sipped sake for a few moments, saying nothing, just sizing the other one up. Genya was a little hesitant at first, I could tell he didn't really like this part. He put down his sake and cautiously began.

"Dax, I like you. Ali likes you. Kohei-san likes you, and he doesn't even know you. You should be grateful that Ali's mother said such good things about you".

"More sake, please".

He poured me a wee dram.

"I know you're nervous Dax, but I keep telling you that you have no reason to be. I'm just here to let you know that Kohei-san is watching. As you know, in Japan, Kohei has some notoriety. You don't need to concern yourself with that however, you are gaijin. Kohei-san and his wife just want what's best for Ali. We want you to come to Japan for a little while. When can you manage it?"

"I want to come to Japan, but it's not so easy. For starters, I haven't got a passport, so that will take a few weeks. Then I've got my contract - I can't just break it - and then there's school..."

"Already done. I've looked into it and apparently your college does not care if you take the summer semester off-"

"But that's in May! Right now it's February."

"In May, your contract will be over and you will have a new passport. So where's the problem? You can't just get married and leave your wife in Japan. Work with me Dax."

"I am. I am, but these things take time. If Kohei-san is worried about Ali, then he shouldn't worry. Everything is in place, the church, the reception, the photographer, the car service... He's bloody coming for the ceremony! So, there is no problem."

"Good. But we are still concerned about you coming to Japan. You could be a teacher."

"I'd be more successful as a bartender, believe me. In any event, I am coming to Japan but only on a short term basis. Ali's cool with that, and so am I. Kohei-san doesn't need to worry".

"Good". And then he hit me again. When I woke up, the spare set was gone again.

I'm like Enzo's cat. We forget to drink water, but instead of ending up in the vet's office with a $500 bill for fluids, I end up in the hospital with kidney stones. And I get super drunk super fast. I've been training for the wedding. Seriously, I've been spending enough time in the gym to actually break a sweat - but I've sorta been cheating too. The quickest way to lose weight temporarily is to stop drinking fluids. This is an old boxing trick that has worked for me a few times before, but I'm not really trying to do it this time. It's actually quite dangerous. In my case, it can aggravate kidney stones, causing them to shift and put me in the hospital. This has never actually been a result of forced dehydration for me, but it's something I worry about now. I'm getting my old form back, and I'm trying to add a little mass but that probably won't happen before the wedding. I've got two weeks to tone up, and it sounds easy enough, but I ache like hell. I just keep telling myself pain is the cleanser - Off to the gym!

Zero Sum Game

2007-01-23T23:41:00.000-05:00

Recently, I watched Boksuneun naui geot or Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, the first of the Vengeance Trilogy by director Park Chan-uk, and although it shared some characteristics to Chinjeolhan geumjassi, this film was not so clear cut. In fact, I didn't like it or at least I had a very hard time watching it and sympathizing with the main character. Maybe it's because I'm a father, but couple that with the fact that the little girl character has the same name as a very fetching violinist I used to know, and the fact that violin music plays at points during the film, it's like one big fat trigger whipping me across the face repeatedly like Yu-sun's bow did.

The film is about a deaf guy who finds himself taking care of his older sister who needs a new kidney. Interesting though that kidneys are also later symbolic in Chinjeolhan geumjassi. Ryu, played by Shin Ha-kyun slogs in a factory to pay the hospital bills. He gets laid off from the job, and ends up bringing his sister played by Kim Ji-eun to his flat for care. Ryu is determined to find a kidney for his sister, but unfortunately carries type A blood. He hooks up with a dodgy couple of guys who are willing to sell him a kidney. They throw the old bait and switch, and their mummy tells him he doesn't have enough dosh to buy a kidney but she so nice that she can find one if he gives his kidney in exchange. Naively maybe, Ryu gives up a kidney and the next thing he knows he's lying naked in a vacant tower of flats, broke.

Ryu's girlfriend, Yeong-mi played by Bae Du-na, is an anarchist and hatches a plot to kidnap the daughter of a wealthy family, more precisely from the man who laid Ryu off in the first place. A bit of surveillance and the pair easily snatch Yu-sun, played by Han Bo-bae. She's so cute! A ransom exchange is planned and the pair of kidnappers have every intention of returning the girl, but then Ryu's sister figures out what is going on, and kills herself because she is ashamed of what her brother has done.

Ryu can't believe what has happened, and takes the body to the place where he promised to bury his sister. While placing his sister under a grave of stones, a peculiar character arrives. The character is credited as being retarded, but clearly the young man simply suffers from a rather serious case of cerebral palsy. A little bit of understanding goes a long way, people. He takes a fancy to the tchochki necklace that the little girl wears. He tries to nick it, but ends up just creeping the shit out of the girl. She tries to run across a rickety bridge to Ryu, whom she considers a friend, but dives in the river. Flailing, her cries are ignored by the deaf kidnapper and she drowns. My last ounce of sympathy for Ryu just floated down the river.

The story now focuses on the story of Park Dong-jin, Yu-sun's father, who has vowed a little revenge of his own. He works with a police inspector to track down the kidnappers and eventually comes across the body of his daughter. The scene in the medical examiner's room is quite telling. Park attends the autopsy, and is being torn apart emotionally as we hear the bone saws and stuff cutting up Yu-sun. He goes back to the scene of the crime and discovers the body of Ryu's sister buried on the opposite shore. He attends her autopsy and shows no hint of repulsion as the bone saws go to work on her. Tracing the steps of the kidnappers and using a series of photographs, Park discovers Ryu's identity. He goes after Yeong-mi, who devised the kidnapping to begin with and tortures her for information. During that time, he takes out a delivery man who may have seen something he shouldn't have, and the viewer begins to see that this humble electrician isn't the bootlack he has been portrayed as so far. He continues to torture Yeong-mi, who confesses that she is truly sorry for what has happened and warns him that if she disappears, her anarchist friends will get Park. The dude's basically got nothing to lose, so he amps up the electricity and that's the end of Yeong-mi.

Meanwhile, Ryu is getting a little payback on the brothers who scammed him in the first place and their drug-addicted mummy. He doesn't come out unscathed and discovers that Yeong-mi has been murdered. He now must take vengeance on Park, and goes to his house. Ryu is promptly knocked out in his weakened state by electricity the moment he tries to open the basement door. Park takes him back to the river and explains that he understands that Ryu is a good guy, but that's why he must be killed. Park cuts the lashings, and then in a gesture of poetic justice, cuts his hamstrings so that Ryu is forced to slump into the water and drown like Yu-sun.

Park drags the body from the river and cuts it into smaller pieces so that it's easier to bury. He finds a nice quiet location down a country road and is in the middle of digging a decent pit when a group of four anarchists show up and stab the guy to death, pinning a note to his chest detailing the death sentence that Yeong-mi had written earlier in the film. So it ends up being a zero sum game. Everybody involved in the kidnapping is dead and I hate that. Somebody has to survive, even if it's the bad guy, somebody has to be left standing.

The viewer is led to sympathize from the beginning with Ryu, who does everything he can to care for his sister. But by the end of it, I was cheering for Park, Yu-sun's father. I was actually surprised at how differently I saw this film. Before, I may have sided with Ryu, but I guess I see things differently now.

She Ate the Layer Cake

2007-01-10T21:45:00.000-05:00

I suppose it was only a matter of time, but Layer Cake is now my second favourite film. About a year ago, perhaps longer I read an article in the New York Times about a Korean director who was apparently making waves in the violent-film genre. I scoffed ignorantly thinking that nobody could top Takashi Miike.

A sudden re-interest in Korean culture made me think of this director, and after a particularly stressful Friday at work (you know, the kind of stress that makes your head feel 15 pounds heavier), I went up to the video shop and rented the last of the "vengeance" trilogy by Park Chan-uk, entitled Chinjeolhan geumjassi or Sympathy for Lady Vengeance. I couldn't remember the director's name exactly, so the clerk had to ask the shop's walking dictionary and he knew right away who I was looking for:

Me: I can't remember the name exactly, it's something Korean. He makes violent movies.

Dictionary: You mean Park Chan-uk?

Me: Chan-uk - that's the one. I've heard he's more violent than Takashi Miike.

Dictionary: Ummm, I don't think so. Miike's violence is pretty sick, but Park's violence is more beautiful. He leaves a little more to the imagination...

My Korean is fairly limited, consisting of a few phrases such as hello, goodbye, and you play violin very well, but I mustered a "kam sa ham nida" and rushed out the door. For good measure, I grabbed six Corona and a beef rendang on the way home. I was set. I remembered what the Dictionary told me, and I have to say he was very right.

I was looking forward to something parallel to Sasori and this had some overlap, and would have been a great place for Sasori to pick up, but it soon outgrew the Japanese film and revealed itself to be something so much better. The music is solemn and orchestral, triggering fond memories of a very fetching Korean girl playing violin in my flat several summers past. The music lends itself very well to the tone of the movie. Very well. One thing that really helped move the story along is that the lead actress has a strong resemblance to my hair dressor, a woman quietly plotting some revenge of her own.

It begins as the story of a young woman, played by the very captivating Li Yeong-ae, who went to prison for the man she loved. I thought Li was the same woman who starred in Bin-jip or Three Iron, but I was wrong. That lead actress is Lee Seung-yeon. Totally different actress. During her time in prison, Geum-ja formulates a plan to take revenge on the guy. She spends thirteen years in prison, acting as a selfless, model inmate who does everything she can to win the trust of others and get what she wants. She tallies several favours, and manages to kill the cell block bully with a smile on her face. She wins fans across Korea, one of them being a creepy minister who, it turns out was sent to keep an eye on Geum-ja. Promptly after getting out of prison, the new Geum-ja tells the preacher to fuck himself and she begins collecting favours. She pays a visit to one of her fellow inmates who has been released and picks out some nice clothes and takes a flat. Next, she approaches the family of the boy she allegedly killed and asks for forgiveness. They tell her to go away so she cuts off a finger and threatens to cut off more until they forgive. The bandaged finger is used as a nice little time marker by the director, a little obvious, but novel all the same.

Back and forth between a series of flashbacks and present day, the story unfolds. The next step Geum-ja takes is to acquire a gun, made for her by the husband of one of her former cell mates. This is a big favour - for this Geum-ja had to give a kidney. At least I think that's the one she gave her kidney for. Geum-ja reports to a bakery where she is given a job by the former prison dessert teacher. She works a few days and then asks for a 3 month advance. She seduces the son of the baker, and tells him she will kill him if he touches anything in her apartment. Geum-ja has discovered that her daughter had been given up for adoption and was living in Australia.

Jenny, played by Kwon Yea-young uses a fairly convincing accent, though one completely unsuited to Australia and is very eager to travel to Korea with her mother. She threatens to cut her throat if her adoptive parents don't allow her to go with Geum-ja. They relent and off she goes to Seoul. She meets the son of the baker and learns a little Korean. She chooses a puppy and takes it on a picnic to the country where she takes Korean lessons with the son while Geum-ja shoots the puppy in the head. Sissy was completely confused by the whole movie, beginning with the flashbacks, and then with the dead puppy. I guessed that Geum-ja was only practicing and making sure she could do the deed when the time came. During the lessons, Jenny writes a letter to her mother explaining that she is angry with her mother and wants her mother to apologize. Back in Seoul, the Australians arrive at the bakery and find Jenny.

The plan is not quite complete. Geum-ja takes one more favour from an inmate who has been keeping an eye on the real child killer by posing as his girlfriend or whatever. She carefully waits for Geum-ja, and unfortunately is uncovered by the creepy preacher. He reveals the connection between the two women, and Mr. Baek hires two goons to do her over. He ties her to a chair in his apartment and patiently eats his dinner while the two goons wait for Geum-ja and Jenny to arrive. The guys ambush Geum-ja and her daughter in the snow covered street, chloroforming the girl and trying to shove Geum-ja in a car. Of course, Geum-ja wants revenge so she's not going to take it lightly. She shoots one guy in the face - the camera shot is from behind his head and the viewer is treated to a rather unconvincing blowout. She then chases down the guy holding Jenny and waits until she is in close range to pull the trigger. She carries Jenny back to Mr. Baek's apartment, where the fat fuck is lying unconscious on the floor. See, his girlfriend or whatever was a master poisoner and went to prison for poisoning someone in the first place.

The flashbacks are over now, and the movie is about half over. The vengeance begins, and this is done very well. The director admits in an interview that his intention all along was to ask "When is violence ever justified?", and he keeps the message true. He turns the question inward - the viewer is forced to contemplate an appropriate answer. With the help of the original case inspector, who knew that Geum-ja was innocent all along but needed to close his case, she holds a congress with the families of the victims - turns out there are five families - in a schoolhouse where Mr. Baek is being held.

Cunningly, the meeting is wired, and Baek can hear everything being discussed, everything being agreed and all the hatred and sadness harboured by the families. One by one, the families are treated to a videotaping of their child's death. Baek made tapes for souvenirs, and Geum-ja found them. After all the violence and gore, I found this scene to be the hardest to watch. Though, you don't see the crux of the footage, you do witness the reactions of the families. This is how I know the director is good - maybe also due to my hair dressor's personal story, but Park made me feel like I was sitting there in the schoolhouse. Geum-ja asks the families what they want to do, and each person agrees to secrecy. Some want to hand him over to the police, where others want their pound of flesh. It is agreed that the families will take care of the matter themselves and that the ransom monies they had delivered to Baek would be returned. The first people to have a go are the parents of the first boy - each has agreed to leave a little something for everyone else - and so forth. Geum-ja herself has already beaten, poisoned, and shot Baek and leaves it at that. Her vengeance will be satisfaction. Satisfaction knowing that others were able to dispense rough justice along with her. They clean up the crime scene and pose together for a photo so that nobody will ever rat on another, and they go their separate ways. Back in Seoul, Geum-ja apologizes to Jenny and buries her face in a tofu cake. Closure.

The Golden Mullet

2007-01-01T21:53:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year. Well, at least I hope YOU have one. I'm miserable. Ali has gone and it was all very shitty. Christmas night, she gave me a dirty look for not leaving Bob's place early enough so she could pack a decent suitcase. She was also a little upset that I had left her alone with Bob, giving him ample opportunity to give her the third degree. On Boxing Day, we popped around to Orange Peel's and had a nice little get together. Ali didn't say a word about staying too late then though. The next morning, we had a quick good-bye and she was off in a taxi to JFK and I was off to work.

I watched Tim yin mat yue or Sealed With a Kiss the next Saturday, and I probably shouldn't have. I watched it because it starred Louis Koo. This is the first drama I've seen him in, and it was actually quite good, except for the shitty ending which sucked. I'd tried to watch it before, but the reception wasn't good so I abandoned the effort. This movie was made before Koo began sporting his Golden Mullet and he looks better, or more believable, without it.

Okay, so the story goes like this: Koo plays a mute villager who doesn't have much to do around the place except help his mum look after the shop, work on his boat, and shake down addicts and restauranteurs for protection money. His friend Angel, played by Suk-Ching Au seems to be the brains of the outfit and Kam Shui (Koo) the muscle. Angel is a bit of a tomboy in the film, but has a crush on Kam. Along comes Mandy, played by Yo Yo Mung, who rents a room above Kam's shop and waits forlorn for her ex-boyfriend to call. He doesn't.

Time goes by, and Kam develops a crush on Mandy, who in turn has developed a crush on a fire-fighter. Kam is left to run the shop all by himself, but as good friends do, he and Angel help Mandy get in with the fire-fighter. Of course, Kam doesn't really want this to work but Angel doesn't want Mandy in the way of her friendship with Kam. Mandy and the fire-fighter go off to Hong Kong, and Angel and Kam continue the shake downs so they can gamble.

I guess in a small seaside village like this one, the protection racket develops a certain rapport with their targets. And so it is with a particular individual who seems to never have the money required and is frequently thrown in the harbour. During one shakedown, Angel who is working solo, goes bezerk on the guy because he tells her that he likes her. She considers this an affront and shivs the guy in the gut with a broken bottle. Kam runs down to the beach and sees what Angel has done, and the fun and games are over.

Angel disappears and Kam takes the addict to a doctor. Everything seems to be back to normal until Kam goes to clean the room upstairs and finds cues from Mandy that she knew he liked her and Kam decides to go to HK to find Mandy. Kam grabs an address and runs through town to the ferry.

And if the movie had ended there, it would have been nice. Unfortunately, some people don't like happy endings and I'm not saying that everything has to end happily ever after, but this ending really sucked, almost as hard as Layer Cake, but with a romantic premise mixed in. On the way to the ferry, somebody stops him and reminds him that his flip flops just won't suit him in HK, and that he should change his shoes. He runs back to the shop and begins to put on his nice shoes. He hears something in the back and goes to investigate. It's the drug addict who seems to be strangely calm considering he's just been caught breaking into a shop. Kam lets him eat some food and just as he turns to finish putting his shoes on, he gets a knife in the back. The remaining five minutes is just too sad, or maybe I'm emo. Suffice it to say that as soon as Kam turned around to go back to the shop, the movie sucked.

A Christmas Eve Tradition - Sort of

2006-12-24T22:49:00.000-05:00

I've known about a certain ritual for awhile now, but have never had the chance to experience it - Japanese Christmas Eve. In Japan, so I'm told, they don't really get the whole Christ the Saviour shtick so they generally give gifts to one another and that's that. But for dating couples, December 24th is a time for a romantic evening out. Rather than shop oneself daft in a mall, they use it as an excuse to get away and thanks to Japanese efficiency and groupthink, what could be a very elaborate, individual expression of love has degenerated into a bucket of chicken, a bottle of cheap plonk and a night in a cheesy love hotel.

Ali has been working on this for a little while and I'm glad to say that she puts a little more effort into the exercise than what I've heard others do. No KFC for me, instead homemade fried chicken drummets - marinated for 24 hours and dredged in Ali's secret blend of spices. But that's not all. As you can see from the photo, she prepared corn soup in the blue coffee cups (Japanese efficiency), sticky rice with lotus root in the caramel-coloured bowl, a salad where lettuce is just garnish on the plate with the blue rim, and fried tofu cakes blended with chicken in a mushroom consommé. I snatched the candle holders in a secret Santa deal at my new job. Not bad at all. Last but not least a strawberry shortcake made using the finest handmixer money can buy. The thing is older than me, maybe older than Sissy and it still works. Truthfully, the cake is a remake. The first one was a write-off because the recipe is in Celsius and my oven is Fahrenheit. Somebody forgot to convert... but as you can see here, the second version is pretty darn near perfect.

So is this becoming a food blog now? I love food, but no. Thanks to Ali, I'm at my highest weight ever, a whopping 160 lbs. and I don't want to get any bigger. This is still a movie blog, and to that end I watched Baak nin hiu gap starring Sammi Cheung and Louis Koo last night. The opening of this film was so ridiculous that I almost turned it off. The only reason I kept watching is because I like Koo, and though I don't think Cheung is a particularly strong actress, she knows how to make a scene funny - and just the right amount of funny. It turned out to be some hybrid of a romcom and a kung fu flick in which the student must have her heart broken in order to master the kung fu style. Student May, played by Cheung cures an ailing millionaire playboy named Tiger, played by Koo. May's teacher tells her to follow Tiger to Hong Kong and romance him.

The plot becomes a series of stunts in which Tiger tries to make May fall for him, just as he is about to dump her. The problem is, May isn't the jealous type and she continues to love Tiger for who he is. The whole storyline turns out to be nothing but a two hour advertisement for cosmetic firms and shoe companies as Tiger discovers that the secret to mastering this style of kung fu is not to have one's heart broken, but to have one eye open and one eye closed. Phooey!

I'd watch it again, but skip the parts about the kung fu school and stick to the relationship stuff between Tiger and May. It would cut about half the movie out, but it would still be one of the best performances I have seen for Sammi Cheung.

Meri kurisumasu!