DearScotty

Saturday night I went to the Pizza of Death concert to see Ken Yokoyama. Could it be the mayo on the pizza that kills people? Well, it was a great show. They have amazing sound systems here, of course it costs you a half hour for each band to do a sound check, but well worth it. I think Japan has a bad translation of PCU going around on DVD. “What’s this? You’re wearing the shirt of the band you’re going to see? Don’t be that guy.” This historic line must’ve been changed to “… Awesome, yes prease be zat guy!” Every single person had a Ken Yokoyama shirt on. I didn’t know what was worse, being the only gaijin or not having the appropriate shirt. Though, I’m sure my Yanni Tee left an impression.

Afterwards I changed back into my snazzy Mormon outfit and joined Tim and Mike on a Jesus Journey in Fukuoka. A few people caught that we were preachers of Jesus, but others were convinced I was a tax collector. Theresa came out in attire as well. She was a Japanese person oblivious to Halloween. I think she nailed the costume. Nothing really exciting happened, well unless you love hip hop from the late 90s being played on repeat all night, or if you like Japanese girls with so much bronze tanner on that they look like women from a lost mud tribe in eastern Mongolia. Highlight of the night? Talking to a Japanese kid about Nofx, Propagandhi, and Dadwagon.

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The third-year teacher has finally decided to stop butchering Lennon’s Imagine and has now decided to torment me by playing and singing along with Billy Joel’s My Life. It’s a shame the students are too busy sleeping to enjoy the humor in it. Yesterday, I didn’t teach because there was a JET meeting to attend. As expected it was another pointless meeting but it got me a free train ride into the city where I went out after the meeting. It wasn’t anarchy in the streets but I got to vent a little bit about Japan life with Tim. He’s also going through the same “hate everything Japanese” phase that I’ve been stuck in for a few weeks. Seems like no one understands us.

He went out with a group of six to an all you can drink/eat place. When they seated they told the waiter that 3 would be all-you-can-drink while the other three would not. This confused the waiter greatly, so he got the manager, someone like the soup nazi, and they were refused to split the bill. Since they were sitting together they had to all pay for the all-you-can-drink. Tim, being a rational guy, knew this was bogus and tried to get shit fixed, meanwhile the other spazzy JETs told him to calm down and let it go, “Stop being so American!” I hate these JETs just as much as I hate the irrational Japanese. “Stop being fucktards, you fucktards.” On a brighter note, I got my face printed in the local mini magazine, Fukuoka Now! thus marking the 2nd Japanese publication to have my face grace its pages.

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On today’s menu was natto, fermented soy beans. I got a heads up on the menu so I requested just a small portion just so I could say I actually tried the dish. When I got to the desk with my lunch, I found a bowl of soup, bowl of rice, and a filled bowl of goupey yellow stuff with potatos, carrots, and peas… ah natto! Thanks for the extras! I also scored a dessert, couldn’t tell what it was, but it a had a cute cartoon baseball player on it so bound to be good.

With my strawberry milk ready to wash down the natto, I first attacked the potatoes. Wasn’t so bad, got a little shiver down my spine, but I was doing alright. I then tried the hunks of tofu looking things… well, kind of firm, not so bad… I tried not to smell it because of all the horror stories associated with it. It was a tough ordeal but I managed to eat the potatoes and peas and leave the tofu goop alone. Desert time!! I asked the secretary what the desert was and she replied, “Natto.” A cold wind blew through the room, “So this is tofu and potato?”, “No, that’s chicken.” I thought I could finally say I ate natto but I wasted my efforts on chicken. So I finished the chicken goop which turned out to actually taste a lot better when you stop thinking it’s natto. I put the desert (natto) into the fridge and defeatedly walked back to my desk.

Yesterday I purchased my plane ticket back to the States so I can attend my sister’s wedding. I wasn’t able to purchase the ticket online because my Japanese account isn’t set up like a credit card so I was given to option to pay by another means. I printed up a voucher and headed to my 7-11 to buy the ticket. I was a little nervous about going this route but the woman from the airline said it was perfectly normal. Within one minute of paying for the ticket, I received a text message from the airline confirming my purchase. Nuts! They really have their shit together here.

Last night I put together a little montage of my first week here in Japan. It’s not brilliantly edited or anything, I just wanted to post up my footage without actually boring you to death. Thank the Chemical Brothers for making it slightly entertaining.

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Last week I got a break from the little shits at the junior high and was able to teach at East Elementary. I taught the 4th, 5th, and 6th grade classes. Those kids were pretty great. My laminated photos of back home along with a big blow up Snoopy that I claimed was ontop of my house, all went over really well with the kids. They participated, had fun, and didn’t ask me questions like, “Have you ever play sex?”, or “Do you know creetolis where is?” I ate with the 1st graders who were absolutely cute. I ate two of them, “Oishiiiiii!” Here’s a little video for proof:

Remember, you will need Quicktime 7.0 to watch my cell phone movies.

I’m not sure how foreigners keep their cool here or simply don’t jump in front of a big rig blazing down the highway.  But, I think this guy knows the secret! There are so many things that can make one insane from: taking an hour to send money home because the reason, “to pay bills”, apparently isn’t acceptable, or from being yelled out for writing with a red pen, or being charged 20 bucks to have an old man put air in your tires and spray WD-40 on your chain.  So, how is it that our new friend Paul hasn’t become a “nippongynist” or hater and loather of everything Japanese?  I’m now fearing it’s either option A) suicide or B)turning into Paul?  Any pointers? Should I go with A or B?  “Autum in Japan feels good, yeah!!” - Paul