How I've been wasting my time lately

Alright, so you've got me. I"ve had a little free time lately (mostly when Mike D is out of town) and I've been indulging. Not just in my nightly glasses of wine either. I've bought my first video game. It's a game I saw in Japan at the Shimizu's place and just found in the states: Katamari Damacy. In this game, this little green prince rolls up everything in the world to create stars. Nalyd just kicked my ass in this game while recuperating from a bad stomach virus, but I still trudge on rolling up elephants, giraffes, and giant navy fleets in my spare time.

And what else have I been doing? Well after hearing that this was the funniest shit since sliced bread, I finally watched Yacht Rock. And it is fucking hilarious. It validates my college obsession with Michael McDonald and Steely Dan, and makes me fear Kenny Loggins as all people should (though not as much as Phil Collins, the antichrist).

As Promised.....

Here is the link to the Austin Chronicle's article on Chicken Ranch Records, Mike D's label. I'm ooozing with pride and refering to him as el presidente at home to get him used to being recognized as a mogul.

http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/story?oid=oid%3A551906

Mucho Apologies

It's been way too long since I posted anything here. Since moving to Austin, my free time just seems to evaporate in front of my eyes......but in the best possible way. I did have some time to myself while Mike D went to Europe with Willie Heath Neal but chose to do some much needed nesting instead. So what's cooking with me? Well, besides being dropped headfirst into small time parenting duties with Miss Thing and The Rockstar, there's been a quick job shift whilst still waiting to get my license to massage. Mike D has also whisked me away to some of the coolest shows I've ever seen including Yo La Tengo from about five feet away and a free Flaming Lips bonanza. He's sweeping me off my feet.

And speaking of the dreamboat, Mister Mike D and his Chicken Ranch Records will be featured in this week's Austin Chronicle due out Wednesday. Get ready for an overly-proud mass email coming your way.....

Anybody Remember Vitamin F?

Wow. I have about five minutes to myself on the computer, which is rare nowadays. Since moving to Austin, our schedule has been pretty hectic: off to Atlanta, then back with the kiddos, then off to ACL fest, and work in between. It's all been pretty amazing! Life with Mike, the Rockstar, and Miss Thing has been completely wonderful. Something will inevitably make me laugh my ass off every day. The Rockstar told me the other day how when he farts, he imagines himself being launched off like a rocket into the air. Now I do the same thing.....

Hotlanta Synchronicity

Well, I raced down to Austin for a great reason. Mike and I went off to Atlanta (where does that Hotlanta nickname come from anyways?) for the Drive-Invasion and all things good in Atlanta. Two of the stellar Chicken Ranch bands played: Tiger Tiger and the Woggles and put on brilliant shows during two days of hot rods, jalapeno corn dogs, and b movies. Leonie, you would go mad for this thing! Tiger Tiger got us started Saturday, and ready for "The Reanimator" on the drive in screens. But here's the kicker of the weekend: the Woggles were actually a band that T and I saw back in Tokyo. It was great talking about Japan, music, and pirates with all of them during the festival, and at their Christmas video shoot in the days after. I also got to see the Mega Green Beans with their little sprout, Norah.

Moving Again!

I'm moving to Austin tomorrow, just to let everyone know. Most of you who actually read this don't live anywheres near me, so it might not matter much. Unless you all want to send me loveletters......

I should have known.....

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict. One moment you're in your own little happy universe... And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

*thanks to Sandy for the link*

Scared, Stupid, or Senile?

At the prospect of moving in with Mike D and his two kiddos, Miss Thing and The Rockstar, everyone keeps asking me if I'm scared. No fucking way! They are awesome! And maybe it's cause I'm totally freaking exhausted tonight (15 massages in 3 days plus moving plus entertaining Dad and the dog) I'm starting to think that maybe there's some detail I'm looking over. Should I be scared at the thought of moving in and assisting raising two badass children? Should I be afraid that The Rockstar threatened my life the first night we met (as a ploy for ice cream, no less)? Should I have nightmares over the fact that Miss Thing has openly admitted that she will taunt me when I try to play video games (even though she was very kind this week while playing Kirby)? Try as I might, I can't think of that tiny detail that should put the fear of gawd in me. I'm just counting down the days till next Wednesday or Thursday till we can all hang out again.

Hao Jo Bu Jen

Wow. Sorry to everyone for not posting for such a long time. It's been a busy summer what with all the massage classes, switching jobs, and moving back to Austin. Mike D is a total dreamboat and has asked me to move in with him, so I'm relocating back to the 512 after about six years. It's a major switch from the hermit life I've been living while squatting at my folks place. I'm so excited I'm ready to explode.
Add to that our first international visitors: Bob and Nicola. I haven't seen Bob since the wedding in Japan, and after a way too drunken night out, I'm pretty sure I professed my love for Nicola. I hope I live up to my Juni-doppelganger, but I have a feeling I won't be winning any awards in the Drunk Olympics. Other than most sloppy......(the pun is up to you)

Questionable...

Would it be wrong to donate this tee shirt to the Association of Retarded Citizens?

Out of Pocket Again

Just when I'm finished with massage classes, I'm off again.... This time it's back to Boston for my Grandma's 90th birthday, then down to NYC for a few days of fun with Mike D (and maybe the Deaners?) Then Austin, Louisiana, and back home. Holy shit, that's a lot of places to go. And a lot of driving. I'm hoping to do some serious truck stop shopping, camera in hand. Look for funny pictures to be posted later. And maybe postcards too if I know your address.

Ultimate Kazoo

At lunch a friend and I were talking about breaking the seal on farting in a relationship. His ex-girlfriend's nickname was "airhorn," and we started talking about the phobia of farting around others. So I came up with this idea to avoid farting in front of anyone while you were sleeping. (This is so you Babu.) You take a butt plug, hollow it out, and fit it with a little kazoo inside. Then you never have to worry about those little bronx cheers anymore. And you can join up with those lovely Petty Booka girls and jam with them in your sleep.

Barfy Bourdain

Yet another attempt to hang out with Steph and Mike was bamboozled by my mid-day need to barf all over everyone I saw. Thank god I maintained until I got home. (Some days I feel this way, but I'm not really all that sick. Today was different...) But in the middle of this barfiness, I got to catch up on some good Anthony Bourdain reading, and read the best quote to sum up some latent thoughts on Asia:

"They say there are sun bears in China, hooked up to kidney drips like catsup dispensers, leeching bear bile into tiny bottles. Rhino horn. Bear claw. Bird's nest. Duck embryo. You've got to be pretty anxious about your penis to contemplate hurting a cute little sun bear."

I think he's got something there.

Smell My Fingers

After the paper airplane incident, there have been a few keen text messages going back and forth between me and Tammy. She took her daughter's Barbie and a dildo and created a nice diorama. I tried for a half hour to get a nice photo with my smiling face AND nekkid ass with my cell phone, but dammit my arms weren't long enough. I settled for a photo of my friend's ass. So when we got to school on Monday, one of our fellow students, the one who needed help identifying hemmorhoids, was feeling a bit left out. She asked me to go in the bathroom with her to take a picture of her ass to send to Tammy. (Nice that I'm the ass photographer now.) Then she wsa looking for a good tagline to send along with the photo. I suggested "smell my fingers," a clever allusion to an earlier aromatherapy joke. She agreed that was good, and asked me "How do you spell 'smell'?" This joke killed at the Starbucks drive-thru window at lunch (but later bombed on the phone with Mike D).

I think ol' girl's gonna have trouble passing the GED.

Air Mail

Today I threw a paper airplane at a girl in class that had the message "You Suck" written on it. Obviously, lack of sleep is somehow correlated to my maturity levels.

She's Crafty

Check this shit out! I made a pillow with my Sewing-Pretty-With-Hello-Kitty sewing machine. It's the first thing I've made that didn't look like a total disaster since about 8th grade sewing class. Note the tassels on the corners I beaded myself. And note the nekkid lady I embroidered on there too. That's right, I'm a total badass.

Floored

So we now have radio free anthro at work, some satellite radio bullshit we are required to listen to. And honestly, there were a few shining moments today in between all the KT Tunstall crap. But I was completely floored while I was beaming and singing along to "This Must Be The Place" when a stupid 18-year-old I work with said to me "Yeah, you would like this song." Not only did she stop me from beaming, but she also reminded me that I currently work in a mall with a bunch of punkasses who have summer jobs. And bad taste in music.

My First Free Moment In Like 3 Weeks

Dood. I totally overextended myself. Between trying to kick ass at massage school, a botched attempt to get promoted at my shitty retail job (bastards!), and trying to maximize my time with Mike D, I have worn myself out. Truth is I've had a really good time doing it, but not I seem to spend all my free time napping. Ten free minutes at school? I'm curled in the fetal position on the carpet. Red light taking too long in traffic? I'm dozing off and waking up to honking horns. But with less than three weeks of classes left, I think I can manage it. Big things are on the horizon...

More Quotes from Massage School

These are a few select quotes from my new favorite classmate.

While looking at an up-close picture of a hemmorhoid (my idea of course), one girl asks what exactly we were looking at:

"Ellyse, that's your brown eye."

While discussing a region of the outer ear called the pinna, which people from Ft. Worth, Texas pronounce pee-nah:

"I'm too old to find out I've got a pee-nah. Just what exactly have I been supposed to be doing with it?"

And, while discussing a trip to the bathroom outside while chopping firewood:

"Oh the chiggers love Miss Kitty."

Come and Knock On Our Door

It's like one of those signs that you are in fact a small part of an amazingly big picture......that the world is planned out with enough free will to make you feel in control but also with a dash of destiny, because things are just supposed to work out THIS EXACT WAY. Because your new favorite teacher, the one who lets you gross everyone out in class with up-close photos of hemmorhoids from her pathology book, says she's going to bring in pictures of her aunt when you are both talking about your love of red velvet cake. You assume this aunt is some famous baker or pastry chef. But no, she is the actress who played the woman who bakes the armadillo red velvet cake in the movie "Steel Magnolias." And when you probe further, she is also the actress who played Lana on "Three's Company," your personal hero post-divorce. Sultry, breathy, dressed up with a wardrobe that made Stevie Nicks jealous, Lana was the original sexy divorcee. And while I never really understood her schtick when I was a kid, I sure as hell get it now.

GENTRIFICATION! Get used to it.

There was major fun in Austin this weekend. Turkey legs at Eeyore's Birthday, and mucho props to Richard for the catch phrase of the year. We caught up with the Flowerses and met their lovely daughter, Storey. JJ and I had an intellectual discussion on the P-mate. Colin met Violet, and the matchmaking ball got rolling on whose kids would be dating whose kids when they got older. And just in case any of you were wondering.....yes, Mike D DID get funny.

The Night of the Day that Wouldn't End

Yes, we had more tornado sirens this evening. I'm getting kinda tired of this business of going to the innermost room of the house and waiting. And tonight, as my mom and I grab flashlights and purses, the dog's leash and candles, what does my dad get? A glass of wine and some Cheetos. Further proof that he is a spy.

Can This Day Just End Please?

Yes, it is a real massage school I go to. It's just that a bunch of horny freaks are enrolled in my morning class. I'm beginning to get irritated by them, and I'm not the only one. I can't wait for Miss Kitty to rail off on them. Today was try two of massaging naked doods. During the upper leg sequence, my client, the sad sport who is the only male in the class and gets loads of attention from the strippers, mentioned that he was getting aroused. I told him to think about his grandmother, Jabba the Hut, and dead kittens, and see if that worked. Thank god his left thigh didn't make him as horny as the right one. In the afternoon we had another round of tornadoes hit our area, so we all got to crowd in one of the spa rooms while the sirens went off. This is the second time this year that tornadoes have struck within miles of where I've been, and in these bad-weather situations, I've realized that I hate being cooped up with all the worrywarts, so I tend to wander (like a dumbass). Today I tried to take a video of the torrential rain, flooding, thunder and lightning that was going on all around. I'll figure out how to post it someday. It's kinda boring due to the fact that I was just filming cars out on the highway. Until the end of the video, when a peal of thunder cracked down and a lightning bolt struck the building across the highway from me. Then I drop the camera, start giggling, and run back into the building.

Massage School Wierdos

Okay, I'm officially freaked out by one of my massage school classmates. After all the drama last week over a certain student's negative energy, I thought we had weeded out all the wierdos. Okay, all the MAJOR wierdos. Then, this one nail technician who never talks and is constantly on her cell phone started showing us all the videos she has saved on her phone. Subsequently, my day started at 9am with a video of a woman getting fucked up the ass with a baseball bat. Then a smiley face whistling the Andy Griffith Show theme song, but with a ballsac for a big brown nose and an asshole that did the whistling. I was afraid to look for the eyes. It's always the quietest people you least suspect...

God Bless You Mr. Vonnegut

I was so sad to hear that Kurt Vonnegut died this week. He pretty much invented the mindfuck for me; and I spent many a night just trying to get over what I was reading and what it meant to the world at large in discussions over coffee with Bob at the Pitt Grill. In honor of Mr. Vonnegut, I will be drawing a little asterisk on my hand Breakfast-of-Champions style.

Massage School Arithmetic

Stripper (or ex-stripper) count: 2
Girls with murdered boyfriends or fiances: 3
Former Wrestlers: 2
Girls who have discussed their clitoral piercings: 1
Reiki Masters: 1
People who have vomited in class: 1

Things Are About to Get Real Busy

Well, between a new promotion at work (which still means that I will be telling rich, fat women that their asses look great in those jeans) and starting massage therapist school, I am about to lose days off until sometime in June. Sleep will be greatly missed. But hopefully by the end of the year I will be able to have a job I enjoy and earn some much needed funds. And anyways after my last excursion out with coworkers to celebrate a birthday this week, I am fully grounded from going out. No one in America knows how to turn it up to eleven, and I'm always left blurry and lost at the end of the night. My empathy for the Cool Brothers has never been greater.

Another Top 10

Top 10 Songs I Want To Listen To After a Long Day (At Work) of Whiny, Contemplative, Vagina Rock

1. Enjoy by The Descendents
2. Disect by JSBX
3. Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys
4. Five O'Clock World by The Vogues
5. Don't Shit Where You Eat by Ween
6. Wasted Life by Stiff Little Fingers
7. Danse Sur La Merde by Prototypes
8. My Boyfriend's Learning Karate by Thee Headcoatees
9. Ah-So by The 5.6.7.8's
10. The Fat Albert Theme

Assy Asspimple

Dammit, I thought people only got asspimples in Taiwan...

THE PARTY SUIT!

I was writing this long post about flowers (no shit) and I was looking for a picture of this cherry blossom wig I bought for my mom when I saw these costumes from Tokyu Hands, the best store in Japan. Oh yeah! It's The Party Suit! You know it's a party when someone has this suit on!

Manboobs

Swan Penis

I swear to god in the description for this it says "Put this on for some 'Let's Dancing!'"

Mushroom Girl

Mr. Beerman

Scary Weekend

As some of you may know, my folks were in a car accident this weekend. They are all right, but I think we were all pretty freaked out. It happened out in the country (where it's actually spelled kountry) and it took me a long time to drive out to them to pick them up and take them home. It made me pretty grateful to be back home and close to them. I know I've had my doubts about being back in the dfw before, but this weekend was proof positive that this is where I need to be now.

My Mom's Joke

Out for a walk with my mom today, I asked her if she knew what the Japanese word for "dandelion" was. Her guess...

dande-rion

Worked My Ass Off To The Bone!

My friend in college had a dad who talked entirely in Texas euphamisms. So when it came to work he said, "Well, if it was fun, they'd have to call it something else." Damn that's depressing! And since this month seems to be dedicated to finding employment that means something to me, I thought I'd make a list of the worst jobs I've ever had. Bob will never believe the idea that some of my jobs just sucked ass. He always thought I landed the cushiest work. And I kinda did. I mean, there was the lawyer I worked for, who took me out to meet our rap star client for gin, juice, and blunts. And the retail job for a store with no customers, so I made pot brownies and ate them as breakfast. I could go on, but before you totally hate me for quitting those jobs, here's a list of some suck-ass employment:

1. Caregiver: I took a job as a nighttime caregiver for a halfway house of mentally retarded adults just after college. I thought, night, well, they'll sleep most of the time. And they did. But I also had to make these fellas breakfast and pack their lunches and get them ready for school and work. Oh, and help them get dressed and showered. These guys had issues, and regularly threw furniture around in fits of rage that their minds could just not process. They were sweet most of the time, and never complained that I always burned their pancakes (in fact, one of them started associating the sound of the smoke alarm with "mmmm, panckaes!"). But all it took was one shower involving poop that forced me to quit that place.

2. Sales: Yes, I worked as a salesman for Dell Computers. They guaranteed your salary for three months, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer than that. I got disgusted at how we were encouraged to talk people into purchasing things they didn't understand and couldn't afford. Oh, and I screwed one of my coworkers and then couldn't look him in the eye for how crappy the whole experience was. (This is a part of why I hate the word "sausage," ask me about it sometime!) I quit this job by leaving a post-it note on my boss's desk. Classy.

3. Waitress: At age 19, all the friends I knew tried to work at the same restaurant in Dallas. Taylor got the job first, then Chad and I, and Robert too? My memory's a little fuzzy on that one. We thought it would be fun, and for some reason, when the mananger called us "fatties" we thought it would be allright to smoke dope at work. It wasn't. They yelled at us and made us wear stupid denim shirts and fucking bolo ties! We all quit within days of eachother, but not before we replaced the restuarant hot sauce with habanero pepper juice. We lived the rest of the summer on taco bell and homebrewed mead. We lost a snake in a couch, made the smoke-o-nut, heard a rabbit scream, had several killer parties, oh, and I made an A in summer school.

Ranting

Dammit, I've been thinking about my credit card bill. It's been outta control ever since I got this shitty retail job and I started buying things I don't need. I mean, I used to have serious standards! I tried hard NOT to be a mindless consumer. But I think coming back to America and getting myself going has been so scary to me at times, that I just bought stuff to make myself feel better. And especially while working with such image-conscious gals, it just seemed like the thing to do a lot of the time. So coming home tonight I piled up over $300 worth of stuff THAT STILL HAS THEIR TAGS ON THEM and is completely unused, and I'm returning it all. That's right folks, this is anal expulsivism at its finest. But it'll clear my conscience and work my credit card bill down to a nice respectable amount able to be paid off by the time we get the republicans out of the White House.

Fuck middle America!
Fuck complacency!
And do the James Brown, dammit!

Philosophical Procrastination

Well, I'm in the middle of putting together a job application for teaching up at the local community college. I've passed through the first phase, where a computer checks to see that I really went to graduate school and studied some appropriate classes, and now it's time to write a few things and hope that they like me. Oh, what is it about looking for a job that sends me on a one-way trip to Panic City!?! I suppose if I didn't care so much about getting this job, I wouldn't freak like I do. Or overthink my life to try to plan out other acceptable ways to make some moola and get the heck outta my parents' house. (Which by the way is so nice....I'm often shocked.) Oh, heartburn, up yours!

Caffine-Induced Smiles

How much do I love having a nice cup o coffee, and seeing that my friends have posted great pictures on their blogs??? Thanks are in order for Leonie and Sandy for for putting up great photos of their families and allowing me to transport myself to Taichung and Oz before I have to go to dreary work. Oh, and downloading a few kickass 5.6.7.8's tunes this morning doesn't hurt the mood at all.

Gracias! De Nalgas~~

Mucho thanks to Steph (you will rawk!) for doing my hair last week! I've gotten so many complements on how cool it looks. And I figured a photo of me wasn't too scary to put up, considering all other photos have been of either my dog or Bootsy Collins. Things are pretty slow in Texas in the winter. No one goes outside, especially on a day like yesterday, where two flakes of snow actually fell from the sky. Then melted on my coat.

Strap on that Jammy Pac

Today started as a most awful day. I had to go to Plano (land of the cinnamon girl) to work inside of a mall. Dammit, there are some days that your shitty retail job just slaps you in the face. Like when you enter into the monolith shopping mall to "She Drives Me Crazy" by the Fine Young Cannibals. Nothing says complete-lack-of-original-thought like that song. That being done, I had to fight with a vacuum cleaner for a good chunk of the morning. Now this vacuum cleaner is not your average thing with wheels that scares your pets. This one you wear strapped to your back in some ergonomic velcro thing, and you look like a Ghostbuster. Me, I dragged it along the floor, where it started to vibrate and bounce while I was trying to use it. It takes some skill to clean up dustbunnies while your vacuum is jumping two feet off the ground.

On the way home, I was saved by a Jin Ju Nai Cha place! Even though I almost got in two car accidents getting there, it was worth it to chew out my frustration on some tapioca nugs. And it kinda made me think.....on this grey gloomy day, something I learned to love in Taiwan cheered me up. Never would have guessed that while I was living there! I truly think there is some kind of magnetism to Asia, and if you feel it, you'll always be pulled in that direction. Even now, trying to find my place in the metroplex, I still dream of the next time I can find a legit reason to get my ass back to Taiwan, Japan, or anyplace I went while living in Asia. Someday that rubberband will -ho, snap! me back.

Forgot to mention...

I got some lovely emails from the land down under (where women glow and men plunder?) and it has occurred to me that I forgot to mention the fact that I'm not going back to Taiwan. Even though I think it'd be fun and lovely, I kinda feel like I need to at least give things a chance here in Texas. Last year, the big bad luck year, was a rollercoaster. And this year I'm hoping to take things a little more slowly and try to settle in to Texas a bit more. Does this mean I'll be buying a pair of cowboy boots?? Probably so, y'all.

Anal Sex According to the Word of God

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Rolling the Dice

Really, this is a post for Bob. I'm reading this book all about quantum computers, learning all about bits of information and how they are processed, the difference between free energy and entropy, and the physics of the Big Bang. It's interesting, but it also has me wondering "why am I reading this book?" Until I got to page 50, when the author writes, "Every roll of the quantum dice injects a few more bits of detail into the world." The author, Seth Lloyd, is talking about chaos theory and the butterfly effect on the creation of pretty much everything. But what does it make me think of? An old joke I had with Bob about almost shitting your pants when rolling the mexican dice. I'd like to think of the quantum dice as an amplification of the mexican dice (a crazy cousin if you will), but with a better chance of getting something a little less noxious.

All Hell Breaks Loose

Some of you may not know this, but it has been snowing in Texas. We've actually had some pretty bad weather. Nalyd even called me to see how I was coping with "Ice Storm 2007." He's such a thoughtful guy. As you can see in the picture, there isn't much snow, but in Texas, this is enough to get 25 car pileups on the freeway and close schools and businesses. It's so excellent to see people freaking out like this!! It makes me hope for more snow! At least enough to do a proper snow angel.

Starchild

I spent New Year's Eve Day reuniting with my cd collection from 5 years ago, mainly my Parliament cd. So when looking for goodies about the whole Parliament-Funkadelic story, I found these photos at itineratesurfer.com, which has some pretty interesting stuff. I had no idea there was a Parliament comic book, but let me just say that some of these photos freak my shit out.

Bo Gumbos

About two years ago, I went to this live show with T and Esan in Shibuya. I didn't know anything about it except it was a tribute show and our friend Nobu, who sings for this band called The Privates, would be performing. Nobu is super fun, and has a great idea about how cicadas are really aliens, so I thought it might be fun. I had no idea, I was going to a tribute concert for Donto, the singer for a band called the Bo Gumbos, who in my opinion revolutionized Japanese rock music. I had never heard any of these songs before, and I was dancing, and sometimes even crying along with them. I think I fell in love with these songs not just because the music was fun and danceable, but because they were simple and I could understand them. I was listening to them again last night, because it's about time for another Soul of Donto concert, and I heard this lyric that I had always liked, "Hoshii mono wa itsudemo, tooii kumo no ue," or "the things you want are always on top of a far off cloud." I love that. And it's also great juxtaposed with the song begging a girl not to turn around because her face ruins her perfect ass.

No!! They'll ruin all our fun!!

I used to think it would be a great job to correct all the bad English in Japan. I would have this business card that I could just hand out anytime I saw a mistake, and since there were so many, I would be rolling in the yens. I guess I could still do that if I wanted to work for the Beijing government.

http://www.dfw.com/mld/dfw/news/world/16390021.htm

Oink

It's the year of the pig in China; the year of the inoshishi, or wild boar in Japan. Last year, on a trip to Izu and Shizuoka, me and the Mimie-channers all went to a place called Inoshishi Mura, or Wild Boar Village. It was great! We got to gamble on wild boar races, pet goats, and eat hotpot made with wild boar meat. Yummy! They even gave me a free wooden wild boar doll so I could make my own races at home. But now that my luck is at steak, I'm wondering if that feast was a wise move. I think I'll carry my good luck charm around with me just in case.

Happy New Year

It's the end of 2006, and the end of my Big Bad Luck year according to Japanese astrology. Thank gawd. It's been a pretty major year as far as change goes, so I think for 2007 (Year of the Boar) I'll try to keep it as boring as possible.

I hope you all had wonderful holidays and stay happy and healthy in the new year.

Oh, and check out the badass Christmas bag that was getting regifted on to my grandmother. I love me some multicultural Santas. Especially ones that come from the dollar store pull their trees behind them everywhere they go.

Leslie and the Cocknocker

I got these totally BADASS magnets from Letma and DQ for Christmas. So far they are my favorite gift, and it'll take a lot to knock it out of first place. For all that don't know, this fella is Leslie, the most rocking homeless transvestite in the world. He used to push this gigantic cart around and hover at about 6th and Congress in Austin. He ran for mayor once, and I totally voted for him. Not just for his political views, mind you, but for the fact that when I worked as a hostess at the Magnolia cafe, he would often ask for free coffee, telling me, "I like my coffee like I like my men...strong and black."

Oh, and very important, I received this link from someone who gets Time magazine sent to themselves as Mr. Cocknocker. This is my new favorite Christmas song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmVU08zVpA

Funniest thing I've heard all week

So I was at work, picking on the guy who listens to Yes again. I was asking him if he ever imagines Jon Anderson as some sort of king of the elfkin people or just midgets in general. He said sure, and then I asked if he ever listened to Genesis or Jethro Tull. In my mind, those three bands are linked together (along with a few others) as one-way tickets to dressing up kabuki-style and heading off to Scarborough Faire in Waxahachie, Texas. He said no, he didn't listen to those bands, but by the way, did I know that a member of Jethro Tull had had a sex change operation?? What? Surely the members of a band who wore tights and tiptoed across stadium arenas in the 70's all still have their manliness in tact!! Not so. Seems the keyboardist is now living as a middle-aged woman named Dee. It's kinda like if my grandmother had another secret life as a championship kickboxer.

I Love Lemurs

I saw this station wagon the other day with this I love lemurs bumper sticker on it. I thought to myself, this person is either the funniest person I've met, or psycho with the Animal Planet channel. When I went to go find a picture of it to put up here, I found this whole page devoted to I love lemur items, including this lovely lemur thong. Kinda makes me think this lemur thing is more for the Animal Planet types than the humorous types. This is called the "special lady" thong. Yes. It's very special. Is there some lemur slang that I don't know about?

The Christmas Cannon

This place was still blaring the Christmas tunes tonight, while I was doing a few drivebys to snap some photos. There are actually more lights that I remembered. I totally forgot the cone-shaped spiral trees wedged in between the candy canes and snowman. But it all pales in comparison to Santa's cannon, bringing explosives into the spirit of Christmas.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

So this is my big Christmas back in America. The fact that I have a retail job right now, and every day is an upscale pandemonium adds to the bleary-eyed dizziness of it all. A friend emailed me this week about Christmas in Australia. I guess Santa carries a "Christmas Sack" there and my friend was comparing it to an egg sac or a ball sac. Nice, I like thinking about Santa's nuts.
And speaking of worldly or not-so-worldly Christmas traditions, there is the overdecoration of your home which I think Texans excel at. We have these neighborhoods that people tour to see the lights and wait hours and hours to see gaudy wooden cutouts of the manger scene with flashing Santa lights right next to them. I have a distinct memory of my mom having to go to the bathroom while we were waiting in our car one year, and pooping in the woods. Awesome. Now my parents live in a completely different town, but we haven't escaped the tacky Christmas lights. In fact, one of our neighbors has the best house I've seen in years. It starts with four (count 'em FOUR) life-sized Santa dolls in the windows, dancing twinkly lights on the front fence, twinkly multicolored balls hanging from the trees, a light-up snowman by the front door, two light-up candy canes by the snowman, and my favorite, a light-up scene of Santa shooting the words "Merry Christmas" out of a cannon on the side fence. Cause you know, it's all about firearms and fourth amendment rights at Christmastime. And if all that doesn't put you over the top, I shit you not, The guy was blasting Christmas carols from some speakers he set up in his front yard last night. My folks and I walked by in time to hear "We wish you a Merry Christmas" and "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." I would seriously kill this man if I was his neighbor.

I'll take pictures and put them up soon.

Funky! Like Penicillin

Okay, you know what puts me in a great mood (besides when my dog begs me to put her in her tutu....yes, I've become one of those people)? This morning, on the way to a math test I was particularly not looking forward to, I popped Paul's Boutique in the cd player. I hadn't heard it in at least four years! Kickass!! I forgot how much I love that cd! Not only is it butt-shakin' good, but it has badass rhymes like putting "poetry in motion" together with "coconut lotion." That's just genius right there.

...and now from our sponsors

What is it about this area that drives me nuts? I had to go back to Arlington today, and drove right through my ex-boyfriend's neighborhood. It's always like a horrible flashback when I do that. Remembering the stop sign that had "STOP 'N FUCK" spray-painted on it for most of my third grade year, which was also the stop sign that we used to drive through with no lights on the wrong side of the road at night in high school. (It was at the top of a very steep hill-- what were we?? stupid??) Well, with all my driving, I got lost and ended up driving by a ton of high schools (mostly in a town we used to refer to as "Useless") and I saw something that could be one of many reasons why I get so down driving around here. It was the sign for a high school, with the name on it, and the flashing lightboard announcing junior varsity volleyball and all that, but next to the school name was a corporate logo: a Pepsi logo. So what's that all about? Here's your diploma, sponsored by the refreshing taste of the #2 soft drink in the world! And probably one of those school cafeterias you see on the news where water isn't available, only drinks from the Pepsi company and foods from its subsidiaries. Why do I even give a rat's ass about corporate-sponsored education? I don't know. I've just about given up on the American education system after deciding that I don't want to be a part of it. But something about a multi-national corporation dipping its fingers into how people learn just seems so wrong!

Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work

A friend just sent me an email describing himself as a stressed-out robot. And I'm feeling it too. Even when I was living in Japan, the land of robot-lovers, I didn't feel half as robotic as I do lately. I think it has a lot to do with being back home and getting caught up in cultural and success-related expectations. Living in other places, I didn't seem to give half a fuck about what I should be doing. I just cared about what I was doing! But now I have this weight on me, this idealized person that I feel I should live up to. (I think it's what's telling me to run and hide when I see people I went to high school with. Like a fight or flight thing only with people from Arlington.)

Run over by the Smackwagon

Okay, so I've been talking a bit of musical smack about Yes lately. And more than talking about it, I've been feeling it. Really feeling it. That's mainly because it's become a bi-weekly thing that I'm assaulted with Rick Wakeman at work. But now I feel that an apology is in order, because what did I do? I bought the latest Sufjan Stevens CD after seeing them on Austin City Limits and realized that they would probably be nothing without the likes of the very freaking progressive art rock dorks that I've been badmouthing for the last few weeks. And not only that, I checked out the website for another band I kinda like, the New Pornographers, and they credit Genesis with Peter Gabriel by fucking name. Holy inverse mohawk! This is getting ridiculous!

X's and O's

Thanks are in order for another night on the town with DQ and Mere. We saw the Borat movie (so so so much body hair) and went out to a local sportsbar afterwards. Good fucking god, is this what I have to look forward to being a single person here in America again?!? I spotted mom pants and gold digging going by a pair of Paris Hilton wannabes all on the same dance floor. A friend at work told me she had been kicked out for going in there with a guy who didn't have a collared shirt on. Apparently collars are mandatory, but panties are optional.

My future in mom pants

I fear living in America is a one way ticket to me wearing these pants someday. I've obviously got to get out of here.

Revenge of the Progressive Art Rocker

While I was working yesterday, I went back into the stockroom a few times. The guy who works back there is usually rocking out to something, whistling along to the tunes, probably doing a little air guitar while breaking down boxes of camisoles. I've heard some good stuff coming from back there, and it's just a nice general change from all the freaking Coldplay that I have to listen to while assisting college girls run up their parents' credit cards. But yesterday, there was something a little too familiar about the music that was coming from the stockroom. Something about maddening keyboards, and a little elfkin voice that sounded like a person who likes to dress up as Luke Skywalker in his spare time. Dammit, it was Yes coming from the back room at deafening volume. Like something out of my worst nightmare. I became embarrassed for the guy. I mean, I wouldn't want anyone to hear me listening to that shit. Rick Wakeman composed the music to an ice skating show about Arthurian knights. How queer is that? So I asked him, "Hey, were you listening to Yes a while ago?" Hoping he would make up some excuse or lie about it; but no, he just got a sheepish grin on his face, and said "Yeah, that was Fragile. Their best album." Truly, sometimes living in America again is like karma kicking my ass.

I wanna rock

So I've gotten this job at a very girly store for the Christmas season. It's pretty good for the here and now. Gives me some time to think about this and that while I put together outfits that tend to involve a lot of burnt orange. I've got the day off today and while taking my dog for a walk, I was thinking about the question of all questions, "What do you want to do with your life?!?" (think bad high school teacher and Twisted Sister exploding out of a cloud of smoke)

Is rocking a meaningful career path?

I'm thinking no, but besides rocking, I really can't think of any other good answer to that question. I could probably blame that on the phrasing and the 20 years of MTV that has whittled down my replies. But to be honest, I'm starting to feel a little Ignatius J. Reilly-ish in the fact that I'm continually searching for gainful employment and growing to hate modern culture and the inanity of it all. Somebody shoot me if I start working at a hot dog stand.

Phone Home My Ass

I know I said I went to Seattle last weekend, but I forgot to mention one of the coolest places we went to: The Science Fiction Museum. It's in the same building as the Experience Music Project, which is crazy looking, and it's filled with almost everything you could dream of, as far as science fiction goes. There was Yoda, some costumes from Dune, a few Tribbles, the freaking crossbow from Barbarella, and about a bazillion fat dudes in trenchcoats who looked like they lived with their moms. (Like I'm one to talk!) As far as movies are concerned, they had it all covered. There were even a lot of novel and comic book references, most of which I had no idea about. These people were serious about their science fiction, and my sister and I were kind of lamenting that it wasn't more campy.
But there was one thing that stopped both my sister and I dead in our tracks: E.T. Despite what pop culture may say about that movie, it scared the shit out of my sister and I and we had nightmares for weeks. A lot of it had to do with that decontamination scene, but shit, the glowing heart and finger didn't help. Neither does the neck that stretches to six feet or those mongoloid eyes. Even at the age of thirty-two, I had to run away from the E.T. doll in the museum and cover my eyes when I was looking at the stuff close to him. So far in my life, the only person who gets this incurable fear of E.T is my sister. In fact, most people give me a lot of shit for it. So here's my question: is there anyone else out there who hates E.T.? Personally, I would rather drop kick his ass back into space than hide him in a closet and dress him up for halloween. And screw letting him drink my beer.

Fresh! Exciting~

Well, I just came back from a very refreshing weekend in Seattle with my family. I've been really down in the dumps lately, but I'm totally stimulated from a vacation with two of my favorite things: excellent postcards and embarassing stories involving my family. There is just inherent goodness in this postcard of a guy riding a giant clam. I also got a nice one of Sasquatch too. But the best part of the weekend must have been the Museum of Glass in Tacoma. My family is really into glassblowing, in particular Dale Chihuly, an artist from that area. So we went to this museum hoping to find more of his works. There were a few, but what was mostly there was this exhibit called "Fresh!" which mostly featured spray-painted taxidermy. Fucking excellent! There were peacocks hanging upside-down vomiting out bloody jewels, and my personal favorite, a series of embroidery works of butterflies that had these big chandelier-like crystals attached at their ends to represent butterflies "shitting." I have never seen my dad go through a museum so quickly. My sister called all the artists macaroni-gluers. My poor mom (it was her birthday) was just plain horrified. I laughed the whole way back to the hotel.

The Queen from Virginia and Wayne's stache

Once again there are many many thanks to be said! The first is to Katy, whose movie was shown at the Vietnamese Film Festival here at UTA this weekend. Katy produced a fantastic documentary on Jackie Bong Wright, the first Asian-American woman to enter into the Ms. Senior America contest. My personal favorite moment of the film? When Ms. Maryland reads Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Women" whilst doing the electric slide in a tuxedo jacket and leotard. I am obviously going to have to work in more dance numbers into my own poetry just to keep up.

The second thanks (chronologically) go out to Merriweather for inviting me along to see the Flaming Lips with Matisyahu this weekend. Matisyahu was like the icing on a cake I hadn't even tasted yet! What a badass he was, skanking around in his little yarmulke! And then, there they were, the Flaming Lips, complete with dancing aliens, santa clauses, confetti, and about thirty balloons launched into the audience. WOW! It's been a long time since a concert experience made me so instantly happy! The whole atmosphere was cheerful, giggly, and lighthearted. Complete with loads of singalongs! Not that there weren't some freaky moments added in for fun too. Oddly enough, the close-up video of Wayne Coyne singing the Yeah Yeah Yeah Song wigged me a little. I think it was the fact that each hair of his moustache became about three feet long, adding to my love-hate with facial hair.

McSweeney's

I'm having troubles putting links up on my blog. This is probably due to the fact that my computer at home is a five-year-old Mac that prefers long walks on the beach over opening up the CD drive. Anyways, I've been cracking up for days over the silly goodness that is on www.mcsweeneys.net and encourage everyone to go check it out. I particularly recommend "An Extremely Patient Producer Works With an Aspiring Pornography Scriptwriter" and "Refreshingly Honest Crate and Barrel Catalog Descriptions."

Englanese

I've spent the last four years or so enjoying Chinglish and Japlish and any kind of Asian inconsistencies in spelling, grammar or sentence structure (only to come back to the US and find its horrible effect on my own speaking abilities). But today, on the drive home from community college, I was delighted to see that somebody here in Texas had fucked up some Japanese, creating what I'd like to call Englanese.

I'm completely intrigued by this restaurant, that probably wanted to call itself AOYAMA or AOHYAMA. AO means blue, green, or sometimes new or fresh. YAMA means mountain. AOHYAMA can mean blue or fresh mountain, and is also the name of a really upscale area of Tokyo with lots of shopping and jazz clubs. It's a very common name in Japan.

But the problem is, this restuarant didn't call itself AOHYAMA, it has called itself AHOYAMA. New meaning entirely. AHO in Japanese means asshole or dumbass. In certain parts of Japan, it's a fighting word, and if you say it to someone, you'd better be prepared to fuck some shit up. Now YAMA still means mountain here, but the whole meaning of the restaurant's name has now changed to "mountain of dumbasses." I'm still intrigued by the restaurant, but much less likely to eat the food there.

Community College Blues

Okay, it all started when my professor was preparing us for the test we have on Thursday by telling us we needed to bring our scientific calculators and a Scantron sheet. Bring a Scantron?? That right there started my mind spinning. So when class was over, I asked said professor, where do we get these Scantrons? Why, the Scantron vending machine at the end of the hall, of course! Now, I've seen some odd vending machines in Japan: beer vending machines, residential condom vending machines, porn vending machines...but none have inspired such depression as the Scantron-and-bluebook-vending machine in the Math and Technology Building. Have we really nickel-and-dimed education so badly so that my tuition fees don't cover the cost of taking a test by multiple choice anymore??

And while I was down over the $1.40 I had to shell out for a Scantron882, those other ridiculous things about community college, which on some days strike me as kitschy, started to fucking piss me off. The fact that outside of my classroom there are decorations suited for an elementary school, like pictures of Mount Rushmore with the words "Mount Rushmore" written in dot letters; a "Happy Birthday" poster written for someone, but written as "Happy Brithday!", also in dot letters; Print Shop banners decorating classrooms saying cool catch phrases such as "What's up?", potentially but not necessarily in dot letters. Then it hit me: these people are in COMMUNITY COLLEGE. They have (almost) all come here straight from high school and taken their high school values right with them. Wearing your high school colorguard t-shirt is prefectly acceptable. Loitering to smoke cigarettes in the parking lot carries a certain meaning. And do not even get me started on the amount of bass in that parking lot. Just waiting to turn onto the street that goes to that stupid parking lot means that I will inevitably be in front of (or behind or both) some car with bass loud enough to make my windshield vibrate. These doods are not joking. They are all still stuck in permanent senioritis.

All these thoughts were swirling in my head, and I was getting more and more irritado. I walked back to my car through a sea of loiterers, bass, and fire ant piles. I hopped into the sanctuary of my car, ready to vacate these losers stuck in high school. Plugged in my i-pod, and the first song to come on was "Blister in the Sun" by the Violent Femmes. Hmmmm...now who's stuck in high school??

Sphinka Flinka

I've got some friends who went to Norway this weekend during a well-deserved European vacation and I'm so curious to hear how it was. Not just for the fact that they are visiting a friend who I haven't heard from in some time, but to hear about Norway! I have no idea about that country or culture, aside from the fact that it seems cold and I hear there is much vodka and vacation time. Sounds good, especially if you've got your cuddlduds on.

But I have another reason for my curiosity about Norway. Back in the days of being underage, some genius-type friends of mine (known to many as being a part of Q, Goddammit) came up with the brilliant idea of posing as foreign-exchange students in order to get beer. A brilliant plot, it was. And everyone loved them as beer-drinking, quirky, Swedish Exchange students that they posed to be. By the time that I was interested in joining in the fun, they had decided that Sweden was overused, and created a student ID for me as Inga Dootsmort, studying for a year at UT from Oslo, Norway (or the Republic of Norwelij). It worked like a charm! When entering a bar or club, we all just looked about 6 inches beyond whoever was questioning our ids, smiled, said something clever like, "Yah, Havelun goot schmorgas," and we were in like flynn. The Q fellas even invented our own drinking song to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"...

Sphinka Flinka,
Sphinka Flinka,
Ex ma Krieg,
Ex ma Krieg,
Havelun Goot Schmorgus,
Havelun Goot Schmorgus,
Llif ym Reeb,
Llif ym Reeb!

Most of it was pure brilliance in jibberish, but those last two lines were Backlish for "fill my beer." Looking back, I'm impressed with the subliminal qualities of our drinking song, and I'm also thinking there was a lot of Monty Python-watching going on. This is pretty damn reminiscent of all those Scandanavian credits in the Holy Grail.

I owe many thanks to the Q boys. The Dootsmort-alter-ego is just the tip of the iceberg. But I will be anxious to hear about a real trip to Oslo from Letma and DQ (Dancing Queen, not Dairy Queen) and to see how the real Nordic version of Twinkle Twinkle sounds.

Ujano the Ujanobu

Okay, either this guy is looking for a fight, or he's the lonliest dood in Tokyo. And proud of it.

Look Out Andre

For those of you that keep up with my personal life, you know I was back in Tokyo last month. It was a pretty major trip, and in the few moments I was able to escape the Executive Lounge and its free beer, I thought about this: Does Andre the Giant really need that posse?


rip crikey

Japan Tobacco

This is from a series of ads promoting polite smoking in Japan. Thank you, JT, for letting me know just how rude I really am. Not only did I smoke like a chimney for most of my time in Tokyo, but I don't think I've ever once looked behind me before creating a brown cloud. Or in this case, green polka dots. Even Japanese farts are cute.

Bjorn Turoque has a posse

Meet Bjorn Turoque, the 2nd best Air Guitar champion in the US of A. It makes sense that if there's competitive poker, competitive spelling bees, competitive rock-paper-scissors, then there also has to be competitive air guitar. And really, which one of those sounds the most entertaining? Fuck yeah, it's air guitar.
Bjorn is also the creator of Aireoke, giving both karaoke and videoke a run for their money, and there is mention of air groupies on his website. Somehow I'm both terrified and intrigued...

Rodeoboy

I just got word that some friends in Japan bought this. It's the Rodeoboy, the latest in Japanese fitness equipment. Considering that these are the same friends that bought a russian-roulette-style electric shock game, I'm not sure if I should try it out. The shock game was a circular contraption a group of people would all put one finger into, as it randomly chose one person to shock the fuck out of. If the shock wasn't strong enough, it also provided metal finger cuffs (decorated with lightning bolts) for you to enhance your playing time. The Rodeoboy looks a little less threatening to me. More like a vibrating trashcan. How bad could that be?

You Can't Help What You Dream, Right?

I am severely disturbed. I woke up Sunday morning after having a way too friendly dream featuring...... Jeff "Skunk" Baxter of Steely Dan and the Doobie Brothers. If I take this to the next (pretzel) logical level, and have a dream about Michael McDonald, I swear to god I will kill myself.

Caddyshack 2006

Okay, just to let everyone know how sad my life has become, I waged war on a squirrel last night. I've seen this squirrel around my apartment ever since I've moved in. He's everywhere. But ever since I've gotten my dog Abby back from my folks, this squirrel has exhibited some pretty nasty behavior: he has decided that my balcony is his personal sun porch. This wouldn't be a problem at all except that it leaves Abby trapped in my apartment, behind a sliding glass door while this squirrel taunts her. He walks right up to the glass in front of her which makes my dog whimper, snort, and generally panic. So last night, in the spirit of Carl Spackler, I decided that "the only good varmint poontang is dead varmint poontang," and I chased that squirrel around the apartment building with a waterbottle and squirted the thing. I don't want to kill the squirrel, I just want to send him a message. It truly was Caddyshack night at my house. I would squirt the water around a corner, and the squirrel would escape only to poke his head around the corner a few times to let me know I didn't get him. That fucker! If the tauntings of this squirrel don't drive me crazy over the next week, then surely the Kenny Loggins going through my head while I chase him will.

Kung Fu. Not Good For You.

Have I mentioned that I'm really into a few songs by Thee Headcoatees? Along with dreaming of singing them for karaoke, I also had this other idea that their song, "Jackie Chan Does Kung Fu" could be the theme song for a new tv show: Anyone who is from the Dallas area remembers growing up and watching Kung Fu on Channel 39. (They talk about it a bit in that movie Office Space.) All day long Saturdays and Sundays it was non-stop Kung Fu. Nowadays it's hard to find that kind of high-quality weekend entertainment on free tv. So I was thinking about making my own show. A nice kung-fu show that could highlight some of the lesser-known-but-yet-totally-badass kung fu movies. Like Shaolin Chamber of Death. And it could kinda have a sort of Elvira-ish or MST3K kind of vibe with a bit of vareity, chit-chat, or guest kung fu-ers. Don't you think it makes total sense to mix a kind of low-rent, gothy, late-nite horrorshow kind of theme with blood-spurting old 70's Jackie Chan movies? That right there is money in the bank.

Two Men Enter! One Man Leaves!

Thanks are in order again, this time to Jason for inviting me out to meet his friends for a night on the town in Houston. Dammit, the more cool places I see in this town, the more I like it here. Too bad I'm leaving in a few weeks.
And there are special thanks to Richard for bringing up the subject that will plague my mind for weeks: Videoke. This is just like karaoke, but with clips of movies and no singing. I can see this going either way... I can picture it kinda like high school, with people in your AP English class who stayed up a little too late to watch Monty Python on Sunday night and now won't stop talking about Spam or Lumberjacks. But I can also see it being pretty cool too.
Richard and I were trying to come up with good scenes (I think he was disappointed when I brought up West Side Story and dance-fighting). Richard's contributions were Buckaroo Banzai and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Fuck Yeah! Anything I could possibly suggest after that would pale in comparison to a greased-up Mel Gibson and a blonde Tina Turner. So far this morning, I've thought of maybe something from Death to Smoochy or Lady Snowblood, the best kung-fu mafia-princess flick ever.

My I'm-an-Asshole Social Commentary

And I don't mean the bumbling idiot kind of asshole; I mean the conniving, bitchy-girl kind. Because I am about to kill off my first potential webfriendship. The only proof I have that someone besides Bob is reading!!! Yesterday I wrote about Phil Collins being the Antichrist. Just after I wrote that entry, I received a comment from a Stacey, saying, "I don't know why, but there is just something magical about Phil Collins and Peter Gabriel. I like them more now that I'm in my twenties than I did when I was younger." Immediately I am suspect. Unless this Stacey is talking about the dark magic that all members of the band Genesis possess, we are definitely coming from different places on this issue.
So then I checked out Stacey's profile, and her blog. Interesting...kind of nice...she is in love with an older man...she is asking people for $3 each until she collects a million to support her dream of spending every second of her time with this man. She's even writing thank you notes. Ambitious. Kind of like that guy who traded up on the red paper clip. For anyone who is interested, definitely check out her blog. It is full of rampant optimism and sweepstakes winnings.
And therein lies the problem: this rampant optimism. Even though there are seemingly kind people donating to Stacey, and everyone is leaving comments applauding this great love story, these soulmates, I'm just not buying the idea that receiving donations so you can spend every waking second with your soulmate will ultimately equal happiness. What about responsibility? What about making some kind of contribution to the world? What about doing something with your life other that sitting back and letting other people pay your way? It's true, $3 is a small contribution that anyone could make. But why would anyone donate to this cause instead of UNICEF or helping out someone in Indonesia after the bazillion earthquakes it had this year? Stacey mentions on her site that she has written letters to a handful of billionaires, including Bill Gates, telling them about her dream. But here's the thing Stacey, Bill Gates is using his money to try to end malaria and AIDS. As far as I know, he's not just handing it out to freeloaders.
Am I being too judgemental of Stacey? Probably. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm probably not too open to the idea of soulmates right now. And the fact that she finds Phil Collins magical didn't exactly start our friendship off in the right direction either. Who knows, maybe someone will check out her blog, and donate enough money to Stacey to make all her dreams come true. It'd be nice. But for me, I'd rather make myself a pauper giving everything to help people who need it than get ripped off by some folks asking for a few bucks so they can do nothing with the rest of their lives.

Phil Collins is the Antichrist

It's not enough that I was tortured throughout high school by a Genesis both with and without Peter Gabriel. Or that his songs have hauntingly followed me around with their overly cheerful horn sections. Dammit, "Easy Lover" was just foreshadowing the impending doom: (s)he'll take your heart but you won't feel it...before you know it you'll be on your knees.

Elevator Eavesdrop

"...alls I'm sayin is that it's kinda wierd when yer boyfriend goes out and buys a $1000 machine gun. And he don't even go huntin!"

Karaoke Top 5

Okay I'll admit it. I like karaoke. A lot. Especially when I'm drunk. I first tried singing karaoke in Austin at a little Korean place off Airport with Mike and Henry. Embarassingly, there were both Malibu and Mettalica involved. After that I really didn't want to touch it, especially after being bombarded with it in Asia. It seemed to me that that was all anyone ever did in Taiwan. That and shopping. So I avoided it until one night in Tokyo. We went to an all-night place in Ikebukuro and tore it up till about 4am. It was raining and they gave us souvenir umbrellas cause we spent so much money there. After that I was hooked. I found myself practicing in the shower, trying to think up cool songs to sing in front of my friends and be stupid. And it's even worse now that I have a car. My car has always been by little sanctuary away from everyone. I always sang in my car. But now, it is my practice room for karaoke (even though no one may ever be able to tell I practice.) So here they are, my top 5 lists for karaoke:

Top 5 Most Embarassing Songs I have Sung for Karaoke:
5. "Mamma Mia" by ABBA ~ sung with dance moves with coworkers.
4. "You're the One that I Want" from the Grease Soundtrack ~ it is impossible to sing this well after 3 mini-bottles of sake, and by yourself.
3. "Okie from Muskogee" by Merle Haggard ~ country music is lost on the Japanese.
2. "Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles ~ sung in a fake robotic voice.
1. "Sister Christian" by Night Ranger ~ sung in a duet with Chris Deaner.

Top 5 Songs I Dream of Singing for Karaoke:
5. "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey
4. The theme song from "Time Bokan" ~ the beginning AND ending theme are badass!
3. "Swamp" by the Talking Heads
2. "My Boyfriend's Learning Karate" by the Headcoatees
1. "Stand by Your Man" by Tammy Wynette

My brush with greatness

I was just talking with Chris about our rockstar friends in Tokyo. They've got this band Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her, and they totally rock. Nao, the girl on the left used to live in my neighborhood, and she and her husband are really nice. I was introduced to them just after I got to Tokyo when Chris came to visit. Nao was really friendly, and totally floored me when she told me about touring with the John Spencer Blues Explosion. I felt so effin cool!!! Here I was one degree away from John Spencer! I imagined me hanging out in the limelight, having beer and sake with other rockstars in Japan. It was like a dream come true, until I ruined it.
I went to Taiwan that spring for Spring Scream. Right in the middle of the SARS scare. I don't remember big chunks of that Spring Scream, but I do know that I slept on a sidewalk. Damn! When I got back I suddenly got really really sick. I felt kinda tired, and then as I went to sleep, I started shaking uncontrollably and all my muscles hurt. T. called up our massuese friend, who told him to spray me down with cold water. I felt like an elephant at the circus. I got to sleep, but couldn't go to work the next day, my birthday, because I still felt a lot of pain in my muscles. Kris and Aaron called me to wish me a happy birthday that morning. I was so excited I started to feel a lot better. So T. went shopping to get ready for a birthday party we had planned, and was gone all day. Then the sickness came back, and I knew I had to go see a doctor. I didn't know anyone in Tokyo, and all of T.'s bandmates weren't answering their phones. So I did what I had to do, I called up my new friend Nao, and embarrassingly asked her to help me go to the doctor. She was not too happy. It was a Saturday, the first day of the year it wasn't freezing outside, and she had to translate for some foreign chick who probably had a cold. I remember putting on clothes was so hard. Fuck wearing a bra. I walked about 10 minutes to the doctor's office where Nao met me and got really worried because I looked really bad. We went in there and I had a temperature of 39 or so (think about 104) and they rushed me into the doctor. I tried my best in shitty Japanese to talk with the doctor, but poor Nao had to do a lot of translating. Then I head her say something like "...well, they don't really do that in America," and I got really nervous. Nao told me they would give me some medicine I wouldn't like, but it would make me feel better. Then the nurse came over, flashed a big grin, and said "We're going to give you asshole medicine!" And I got a pocketful of anal suppositories.
Even in the delirium of a 104 fever, I knew my days with the rockstars were over. Nao walked me home and even bought me some Pocari Sweat for the rest of the day. I told her I would like to thank her, when I got better I wanted to take her out for some tea or beer. But I never heard from her again for two years. Just before I left Japan, I saw her at one of the +/- shows. She was real drunk and we laughed our asses off over the asshole medicine. I made plans with Aiha, the other gal in SSKHKH to get hamburgers in Shimokitazawa, but never heard from her. I guess it just isn't meant to be for me and the rockstar elite...

The Little Jackhammer

I was just reminded my mom had a pet bunny. I had completely forgotten. It used to be my sister's bunny, and everyone in my family thought it was the cutest thing. Except me. I don't want to say I hated that bunny, but I couldn't say I loved him. First of all, I'm totally allergic to rabbits! Bubba the Bunny was my mom's third pet that made living in the same house with her miserable. All I had to do was turn seventeen (read: almost out the door) for my mom to give in to cuteness and start collecting cats and bunnies that made me a runny mess while conveniently blaming all my allergies on the evil Christmas Tree. Also, bunnies poop all over the place. And what looks like black jellybeans is fucking nasty to step in. Then there are the yawns, the licking, and the fucking. That's right. As the vet said, bunnies' strength is in their numbers. Which means that bunnies like to fuck like rockstars. And my mom's bunny had his own loveslave: a stuffed chicken doll. Let me tell you, nothing is more unsettling than hearing that cage rattle, then your mother looking over lovingly at her pet bunny going at it and saying "That's my little jackhammer..." Now that Bubba the Bunny is no longer with us, I'm trying to be a bit nicer about the whole thing. I almost enjoy this picture of a bunny yawn that made me remember the torture of Bubba in the first place. I like to imagine this bunny either almost attacking a fat person or about to bust out ACDC's "For Those About To Rock."

Ame Onna

There are a lot of Japanese folk tales that I heard while I was living there. There's the "oni," kinda like the devil but a lot cuter, the "yamamba," the old biddy who lives up on a mountain OR the kind of frankengirl who wanders around Shibuya partying all night, or the "casa kara obake," the ghost who comes from inside of an umbrella. But I truly believe that the legend of the Ame Onna might definitely apply to me. It's a girl who brings rain or bad weather, or sometimes bad luck to a situation. Now, those of you who have talked to me this year know that in Japanese astrology, this is my BIG bad luck year. Not just bad luck, BIG bad luck. But now that Houston has flooded 3 times since I've moved here, and I can't seem to drive across Texas without hitting a crazy rainstorm, I'm beginning to think that I'm Texas' answer to the Ame Onna.