Salty Rations

There is this show on Japanese TV that I catch from time to time. A man is locked in a room with a video game and he has to play it until he beats it. And these ain't new games. These are old, obscure games. From back when they made games hard. I always get caught up in it. After about 10 seconds you can grasp the play mechanics and the goal of the game. So you know what he needs to do. And you cringe along with him when he screws up. You cheer him on when he looks discouraged. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it is totally an awesome show. Every once in a while someone will come in to berate him if he's not doing to well.

Also, there are a couple channels that show a lot of straight to video cheese. I'm loving it. Recently, there have been a lot of giant spider movies. Good times.

I've also seen the 'sequel' to Ong Bak, Tom Yum Goong. It's more ambitious, and more of the director's flaws are obvious but that doesn't matter. Tony Jaa is fucking amazing. He fucked up most of the stunt doubles from Thailand, so he travels to Australia to fuck up their Ozzie asses. And he does. A lot. But not just with knees and elbows like last time. Nope, he's expanded his repetoire. He's become quite adept at breaking and dislocating bones. It is gloriously painful to watch. He is a crazy whirlygig of pain! I loves it. I have no idea what the hell happened in the non fighting parts of the movie, but who the hell cares. He fucks people up!

Just Now

Just now we figured out Carla's Indain Porn name.

Dirty Pants in Mouth.

Odd Longings

There's a sandwich shop a stone's throw from where I work. The lady who owns and runs the place is Japanese but speaks fluent English. She spent some years in Vancouver. The chef is French. The sandwiches are delicious. I had no idea how much I missed Hoagies and Reubens and Philly Cheesesteaks until I couldn't have them. Seriously, you cannot find corned beef anywhere in this frickin country.

I used to go there every Saturday for my lunch break. I still go there every Saturday, but my work hours have changed and now I'm done at 12:30. So I can have a beer with my meal. That is good stuff.

And there's a new pizza place near where we shoot pool. The owners and operators are also Japanese who spent s fair bit of Canada. Toronto in their case. And their pizza rocks. No corn, no tuna, no squid ink. Fantastic sauce. And they have beer. But I didn't have the beer. Cuz they also have bubble tea. Hell, I didn't even have the pizza. I had a calzone.

All I need is a place to start serving crisp meat burritos and I'll be set.

And a hot Japanese mistress.

Yerp

Well, it sure didn't take me that long to completely fall down on that whole update very day thing. In my defense, this is the sickest I have been since I was in Australia when it caught on fire. Eric saw what I looked like. I was a smidge better this time. But I was working for most of the time this time. Not fun. But I believe I'm now on the mend. Yay.

And just to get back into the regular swing of things: There was other stuff I wanted to write about, but I forget them all right now.


It's good to be back.

My Humps

I've been watching a little bit of Japanese MTV, they've been showing the American Top 20. Is this shit fa realz? Seriously? My Humps? My fucking humps? Dude, I had no problem with Milkshake. That was a catchy song. And Kellis was nice enough to disappear immediately afterwards. But My Humps? Fuck you! That ain't catchy, that is just shit! What is up with The Black Eyed Peas? They alternate catchy, kinda good songs with absolute horseshit. And chick from The Black Eyed Peas? Fucking Die! All the Horseshit songs have way too much of you. And you are not hot. Don't sing to me crappily about your "luscious lady lumps". I don't want your lumps, I'd prefer painful lumps on my testicles. Fuck that is a shitty shitty song. FUCK!

And Madonna? When did she start taking vocal lessons from Cher? I guess they have a lot in common. For instance, I never want to see their unclothed asses again. Act your fucking ages!

And what's up with this shitty teen drama in the middle of Green Day's shitty ballad? Whatever. I'm all pissed off out.

Peace.

GIVE UP? GIVE UP? GIVE UP?

It is 5 in the god damn morning. And, if you ain't noticed, I am not asleep. I got a big long day ahead of me. This sucks. I went to bed at 10:30 in the hopes of getting a good night's sleep. More than a good night's sleep. A good ten hours of sleep. That didn't happen. Obviously.

I wanted to get all this sleep because I am still sick. I have been sick for basically the whole month of November. And it is getting worse. I was just about over it and then I relapsed. Hard. I think I've getting a cold sore. That really sucks. And I have no idea how to find the medicine I need in this country where the language is all crazy.

My head sucks. It is all the time dizzy. And filled with gross stuff. Every time I cough, I taste snot. Every time I sneeze, I taste snot. Every time I taste snot, I taste snot. With a hint of iron (I wanted to play some kind of word game with "irony", but thinking about it made my head hurt). Blech. And it be getting worse. Soon, when I cough, not only will snot and phlegm come out my mouth and nose, it will come out of my pores. And maybe my eyes. That would really suck, you wouldn't be able to just wipe it away, you might have to yank at it. Ewww.

And, at some pint when I wasn't paying attention, someone put two pounds of milk shake in my lungs. My breath is rattly, painful and cold. I am starting to get a wee bit concerned. Coming from me, that means something. I usually ignore what my body tells me. This is how I roll: if I feel sick, I just ignore it until I feel better. But I am not feeling better. I may have to re-roll.

Well, the cute girls wrestling in bikinis show is over so I'm gonna try to catch some sleep.

Pray for me.

There's No War But Ours

So I'm watching La La, the channel for women. I think. And there's an informercial on. Sorta. There are no peppy hosts, no fawning audience. No stubborn spots, no easy cash. Nothing but Toronto. Toronto from the eighties by the look of things. And the sound of things. Allanah Myles' "Lover of Mine" is the soundtrack to the cityscape and sundry other shots. I gotta tell ya, they ain't selling me.

I frickin LOVE this country!

No, But I Can See It From Here

This will be one of my last posts where I talk about the act of posting. At least for a little while. There's no reason for me to bitch about a lack of material when I have peppered this blog so liberally (Ivy league communists) with unfinished thingees. I am spoiled for choice. Starting tomorrow I guess I'll just start choosing. But not today. Today I tell you about tomorrow.

I also tell you that my throat really hurts.

And making and eating nabe all by yourself is not very fun and way too filling.

I watch tv as I type. The coming soon channel was showing a trailer for Star Wars Episode 3 and there was a shot of some sort of Star Wars videogame in there. Just the one shot. Not a very long shot. In a fairly long trailer. That was weird. Before that they were showing trailers for Idol DVDs. Idols are cute girls who put out DVDs filled with them looking cute and bending over. They don't get naked near as often as you might think. But I don't care. They are cute, they smile a lot and they bend over. That's enough for me.

There was more that I wanted to mention, but I forget it all. As always.

Oh yeah, I should mention that this is National Novel Writing Month. Have I done that already? Have I mentioned that there is a suggested word length for the 'finished' novel. Broken down, it averages out to about 1700 words a day. I'm happy if I break 800. But I just gotta keep plugging away. One day, I'm gonna be a real boy.

All Over It

I have a hurty head. There was something very wrong with the train car I rode on the ride home. It made this noise you see. I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to accurately describe it, but I'll give it a try. Take a violin and a trumpet and mix them. Not the instruments themselves, but the sounds they make. Mash 'em up using a substandard synthesizer. And make sure that neither instrument is in tune. And that both out of tune instruments are out of tune in different ways so they ain't in tune out of tune, if you dig. Then take that ugly sounding synthesizer and hold down the second highest key. That, kinda, was the sound the train was making.

It hit me and hurt me right where the skull meets the spine. The Skine. Or the Spull. Take yer pick. I don't know which one I like better.

And then, when the train stopped, I walked through a cloud of stink on my way to the train's door. Ladies, when you apply your perfume with a ladle, it is no longer an 'exotic scent' it is an 'unholy stank'. Just a little FYI.

But there's one more reason for my non good head. One of the kids today slapped me in the temple. Just out of fucking nowhere. We were doing the usual interview thing when we just slams his hand into my head, knocking my glasses askew. I am so proud of myself: I didn't harm him in any way. Rather, I grabbed him by the shoulders, said four words in a very serious voice: "No!" and "Say you're sorry!" I didn't let go of his shoulders until I was sure he meant it. If that had been my own kid I would probably be talking to a lawyer right now.

A lawyer who would hate my guts, think me lower than a impotent snake's penis. He would agree to defend only because he could then not win the case. I would end up being sodomized by a bunch of angry, angry convicts. But their penises would be small and not all that uncomfortable. And I would finally be able to say that I've had sex with an Asian.

5 or More Correct

I really should update the Japanese blog, but I really don't know what I can talk about. One of these days I really need to take pictures of our neighbourhood. It's a great place. A covered arcade that's a couple blocks long, three supermarkets within walking distance that mark some of their food down about when I finish work, multiple karaoke places, sushi places, izakayas (cheap food and drink), and a second hand shop fairly close by. It's good stuff. Plus there's an "esthe" place a stone's throw from our place. Now esthe can mean a place for relaxation and massage, but it can also mean a place where certain things get massaged. I'm not sure which one it is.

But hey, if you come to visit me, maybe you can find out and let me know. That'd be great. We may have a whorehouse out back of us. Yay us!

Have I mentioned the flyers that are sometimes thrust into our slot? They have cute and sometimes naked girls on them. Sometimes these girls are doing interesting things to pink blobs of pixels. I check the mail slot multiple times a day.

I had a week off from work but I feel not all that much better. Still real tired and my throat still hurts. But I've got the heart of a champion and that's what counts.

Maybe if I update a different blog every day, the posts won't be so same-y and lame. We'll see. I hope.

If not, well at least I suck.

Why Was I Not Informed?

I think I may have mentioned somewhere that November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoRiMo). And I think that is just a damn fine idea. But yesterday I missed out on the chance to participate in an even better idea. Saturday, November 5th was (Inter)National Drunken Writing Day. You open up your blogging device of preference, you start to drink, you continue to drink, you get dead drunk and you try to write all the while. Before you pass out, or maybe after, you can spell check it (optional) and then you must submit. And you can't delete it later. Sounds like my kind of fun. But I didn't hear about it until today. God damn it!

I, also, think this box has been glued.

That is something I might type whilst under the influence of wheat and/or barley and/or potatoes and/or whatever else people can make hooch outta. Apples, say.

But I am not drunk right now, I typed what I typed above because I heard Carla say it and then I typed it down. It fills up the space, it does. The only problem, I suppose, with writing while shit faced is that I already suck at typing. I've been getting steadily better, I may actually be able to beat Typing of the Dead upon my return, but I still ain't anywhere close to good. I imagine tasty libations may widen that gulf, while simultaneously making that same gulf seem to unwiden. Yeah, the poor spell checker might asplode. Which is hard for a non-physical thing to do, but not impossible.

According to Nike, "Impossible is nothing". But then, they're dicks.

You may think that even though I claim sobriety I am actually imbibing most egregiously. You would be wrong. I am not drunk, just exceptionally tired. I played basketball today. More to the point, I was surrounded by people playing basketball today while I practiced and worked on my awkward flailing. It's really coming along.

The worst part about writing while fit shaced, I suppose, is the ever present danger of blowing chunks on the computer. That last sentence back there? I typed blow chinks, which is even more offensive than blowing chunks. Which is surprising really since chunks is my dog. "Why chunks with a small c?" you ask. (God Damn! Y'allz be hard to shock) Back in the day I did use to call my dog Chunks, but the capitalization thing just went straight to his head. You all know me. You all know how I roll. Ain't no way I'm going to suck on a conceited dog's cock.

Pardon me, I'm going to go return some videos and maybe rent some more. Be back soon.

Didn't rent anything new. We've got too much junk on the hard drive that we haven't watched yet. We gotta clean this bad boy off. It's chugging.

Ow. Typing hurts. I jammed my finger during basketball and it hurts.

Maybe I should go into more detail about my basketball experience. But I don't think I will. It was a fun, yet very emasculating experience. I was the tallest guy on the court, but the most useless. Well, Ben may have been more useless but not by much. Most of the other guys there were fairly good. Of course, their recording studio is next door to the court we played on. That might have something to do with something.

There was one girl who played with us, but her shirt was too loose to see anything going on as she ran. And she smokes. They all smoke. As soon as a game was done, they would light up. But neither they nor I experienced any shortness of breath. Yay breath! And yay after-baketball naps. That was nice. Boy, I sure do enjoy our new bed. It be sleep-tastic!

During our walk to return the videos, we stopped by a combini (as you do). I've mentioned man before, yes? Man can mean a few different things in Japanese. It's ten thousand and it's also a hot bun filled with stuff. Like a Chinese bun. You can get all sorts of man from the combinis here. The one I partook of this evening was a mushroom stew man and it was kinda tasty. I am gonna miss the man when I go home. Sure 7-11 has all kinds of overly salty snacks, some of which are even edible. I seem to recall not hating something called Taquitos.

Well, basketball was a bust word-wise, and my finger is getting more irate the more I write so I'm agonna wrap it up. L8terz!

Loneliness March

Sorry about that there previous post. I am even more sorry that I don't really have much of an idea of what I'm going to write about today. Tomorrow should be a bit easier, we're heading to a big flea market and those things are always at least a little interesting. Plus it seems that I am going to be playing basketball tomorrow. I'm not sure how or why. Hmm... maybe I should go buy some shorts. I'm not sure what the etiquette is. All my other shorts require belts, are belts kosher in B-Ball? I don't know these things. Oh man, they're all going to laugh at me.

But that will all be grist for tomorrow's mill, whereas today's mill is looking very grist-less. I've always meant to approach my movie reviewing with a bit more... profesionality-ism... ness? But whenever I write such a review, it doesn't sound like ME. I still haven't cracked that nut. Maybe I should keep whacking at it here, on this blog. That would certainly take up more than enough time and space. It might even be useful. Well then, it's settled: I'm too lazy to actually follow through with it.

This is something that always gets me down. My lack of word wrangling ability. I should be a much more accomplished word wrangler. I have all these ideas in my head, but somewhere between the grey of my brain and the black of these keys it all goes pear shaped. Once in a great while it all works perfectly, but it has been a great while since it last happened.

OOOPS! Got a little too introspective there.

Maybe I just need to post on one of my other blogs. Variety is a spicy lunch and all that. I have been meaning to talk a bit about our neighbourhood. It's nice, we like it, and I think it's about time we paint a word type picture of it. Or I could use, like, actual pictures. I have the technology. Plus, if pictures are worth thousands of words, as leading scientists have led me to believe, then just one of those babies would put me up over my daily minimum. But maybe that would be cheating.

Or I could go to my videogame blog and write up something. I have been gaming a lot lately. Mainly old games though, trying to catch up and all that. And next weekend is the Osaka Games Festa, so maybe I'll just wait till then. I could write about Jack Thompson. But to much thought has been wasted on that horribly thoughtless man. I do heartily approve of the motion that whenever someone uses the phrase batshit insane on the intraweb, they must link to Thompson's entry in wikipedia. Like I did just there. That way Thompson and batshit insane will forever be associated together in our hearts and minds. And all search engines. That's something I can get behind.

I also brought that up so I could somewhat smoothly segue into this: I read about the whole JT thing on Eric Burns' http://websnark.com/. Eric (I feel like such a phony calling a man I've never met by his first name, but I can't refer to him as Burns. I'll get confused and start talking about Simpsons stuff. And Eric is more of a Fat Comic Book Guy than a Burns.) uses websnark to talk about and critique webcomics. And anything else that he may want to talk about.

And he uses lots of words. Lots and lots of words at times. And he has a couple webcomics of his own and he's writing a novel this month because that is what you do in November. His word count on said novel is up over 15 thousand. I don't think I've broke a grand yet. That just makes me feel bad. Not that more words equals better books or blogs. But the fact that he can tap so freely into the inkpot in the sky and scrawl out so prolifically without getting his parchment all smudgy and gross humbles me.

But hey, lookee here! This post has more words in it than the last one and it weren't near as hard to type out. If only it worked like this all the time. Only, maybe, it would be better if I could also manage to make these posts interesting.

That Didn't Take Long

If you want to be a hard ass about it, I've already missed a day. I, being not a jerk, would not agree. I started typing this just before midnight, and a day isn't really done until I've had a nice long sleep.

Boy, I sure could use a nice long sleep. I just woke up from a nap, but that is just not the same. I could have just slept right through, stayed in bed, but I woke up for the express purpose of blogging. And maybe watch a bit of 24. But 24 has gotten so stupid lately, I would gladly choose sleep over it. But Carla had some online stuff she needed to finish up, so that's why for I had such a late blog start.

I could've blogged earlier in the day, but I was busy. Cooking, cleaning, various other little things. Plus I talked with Trev for like two and a half hours. That was nice. Real nice.

I'm kinda stretching here, if you couldn't tell. I have no idea what the hell I'm blathering on about. I'm both too tired to think of anything interesting and too lazy to care. That is a winning combination right there.

Crap, something just about floated to the surface of my brain, but then it totally wriggled away. Stupid brain.

I'm too goddamn tired to check to see how many stupid words I've used. Here's some words, just to pad this baby out: purple monky dishwasher incontinent jam monster ape bog frog dog mog pog. This, right here, this is a new low.

G'night folks.

The Water is Awesome

Been seeing a lot of movies lately. Corpse Bride this evening. I liked it. It looked quite lovely. Lots of bits that made me wonder how they did it. I enjoyed it a lot more than that there Nightmare Before Christmas. I felt like I was supposed to like that movie more than I actually did. There was too much singing in that Xmas movie and some weird live action shots quickly edited to and from so you hopefully wouldn't notice their non animated-ness. It was jarring.

But I had none of those problems with Corpse Bride. There were far fewer songs, none of them overstayed their welcome, and all the animation was... animated. I really, really liked the pen at the beginning, the father trying to smile, all the piano playing, and the liquids. It was a really lovely film. But a lot of the boobs, both bouncing and non, were a might bit disturbing. I'm not quite sure what was up with the butterflies at the end, but fairytales don't need to make real sense just fairy tale sense. Speaking of which, that ending was a bit abrupt, but what else really needed to be done? Other than the necrophilia scenes that better be included on the DVD.

The only thing that I didn't enjoy about the film was how full my stomach was during the length of it. We went to an all you can eat country style viking right before the movie. That was not the best of ideas. The food was good, but I always eat more than I need to at those kinds of places. I need to get a little more self control. Plus I think that I'm trying to fatten myself up for my trip back to Canada. I've dropped like 20 pounds since coming here. As soon as I learned this, I started eating more and exercising less. Not on purpose, I just realized it today, but that doesn't change the fact that some part of me doesn't want me to be skinny.

I am why I can't have nice things.

Well That Certainly Sucks

I wrote all kinds of words, placed in an easily read order, I wrote about all sorts of things. Well, mainly about my day yesterday but my day yesterday encompassed all sorts of things. It was good, I deemed it good. I hit the publish post button and it all just fucking vanished. I am a bit fucking pissed.

You see, I outlined in that lost post that since National Novel Writing Month has once again rolled around, I would use it as an impetus to (no, not write a novel, none of us want that) update at least one of my blogs every day. I also wanted every post to be at least 200 words in length. My last, lost post had way more than 200 words contained therein, then the shit cable connection conspired with Blogger's bloated badness to lose my words. Fuckers! Non corporeal fuckers!

Let's see if I can do a quick recap of my Saw and Saw 2 reviews:
Saw 2 is better than Saw 1.
Cary Elwes looks and sounds bad in Saw 1.
The devices in both are creative and gory.
I hate the "Spin the camera around and speed it up!" technique that the filmmakers seem to be in love with.
Both films need more (Read:they ain't got none) boobs. Although I appreciate all the nipples in Saw 2.
The ending in Saw 2 is more twisty but makes less sense than the ending of Saw 2.
I like Saw 2's ending better.
The writing in both is not as clever as it thinks it is.
I am even more clever than I think I am.

I think that puts me over 200 words but still far short of the fabled lost post.

See you tomorrow.

Wherein the Pervert Comes to the Fore

You would have to be a mongoloid moron who's on fire to not pick up on Halloween in Japan. Seriously, the girls just come up to you and tell you how cute and/or cool you are and touch you all over. Plus, the train was so crowded I'm pretty sure I molested at least three different girls. I wish I could have seen what they looked like.

Today, as I was out and about, I passed by a little fashion boutique down a small side street. There was a very cute girl in a very short dress tending the shop. We made eye contact, we both smiled and then she turned away from me. I thought I had repulsed her. Then she bent over, at the waist, and started adjusting her frilly stockings. Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

When I recovered, I crossed the street to look at the cute little puppies in a pet store. There was another cute girl in there who was squatting down and playing with some small, ratlike dog. I could see nearly the entirety (is that even a word?) of her thong. It was leopard skin. Today was a good day.

Dear Christ Why!?!

They are making a sequel to Underworld.

Words fail me.

Cool

I was just now watching the Discovery channel. There is a program on about the Universe and stuff. Stuff like black holes. Whilst explaining black holes, they showed footage from the end of Evil Dead 2. That is just plain cool.

Japan Fashion

Yesterday I saw a very attractive lady walking down the street. She had on a very tight shirt. On this shirt were these words: "I Large Breasts". Under these words was a black and white picture of large breasts. On this picture of the large breasts, right where the nipples would be, were bright pink stars. Exactly under this black and white (and pink!) picture of breasts were real breasts. Lovely large yet perky breasts, unrestrained by any bra. It was quite a sight.

Fanboyism

I don't know if all y'all have heard about this or not. Please click on that there link. Now chew on that for a bit. Unsure of what to think. Here's some more to chew on. Before Nintendo, the accepted form of controller was an uncomfortable stick with a button on the top. Or some unholy mishmash of keypads and click-y sticks. Nintendo invented the directional pad. That was way back in the NES days. The SNES introduced the world to shoulder buttons. The N64 was the first console to have analogue sticks. And four controller ports. With the Gamecube, Nintendo was the first First Party to release wireless controllers.

Let's look at the Microsoft 360 and the PS3 controllers. Dpads? Check. Analogue? Check. Shoulder buttons? Check.

Nintendo knows what the fuck it is doing. Don't be afraid.

Christ man, get excited! Think of the fucking possibilities! A racing game that requires no pushing of buttons at all! Imagine the sniping interface in an FPS! I'm giddy!