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.

Sex and a Movie, Without the Sex

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

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.