It's Been a While

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

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

'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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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?

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?

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

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.