Crabistmas

I was a bit lonely this Christmas, despite being all over the show. I think I mentioned it in a previous post, so I won't carp on.

After a phonecall with my whanau in the morning and some present opening via webcam, I made a cameo appearance at work in the afternoon. After all, Jesus didn't ever make his way over to Japan, so his birth's not a national holiday.

Just when I thought I was destined to go home and be bored for the rest of the evening, Yukiko gave me a call to say I should come out with them for dinner. For those of you playing the home game, Yukiko is an English teacher who I helped last year, and subsequent hangings-out with the family has turned them into my home-away-from-home in Osaka.

So, what was Christmas dinner? Ham? Turkey? Pasta? No. It was crab. I kinda felt Jewish. Though it was good crab.

O-Pa-Pea! (Ocean Pacific Peace)

My friend's kid (Louie) is awesome.

Here's his impression of Yoshio Kojima,


It might make sense to watch this first:

This guy is currently wayyyyy too popular among the youth of Japan at the moment. It's a phase thing, one we're all hoping will fade out fast.
I asked some kids why he's so popular. Responses ranged from "Because he's gross" (mainly because of the melon-flavoured Speedos) to "Because his voice is cool". I'm still confused. FYI, his main catchphrase is "でもそんなの関係ねぇ" ("demo sonnano kankei ne-!"), which basically means "But that's got nothing to do with it!", though it sounds more slang (perhaps "What's that got to do with the price of fish?"). It's a gimmick, but that's why the kids love him.

Meanwhile, more entertaining than that is Louie singing Thomas the Tank Engine in Japanese.

Priceless.

Christmas

So, another Christmas devoid of the family (my 3rd ever). Last time I had a girlfriend to soften the blow, and the time before I at least had a date. But this time it's no family, no girlfriend, no Sam, nothing!
Oh well, guess we'll have to find a new family.

I do have a few filial connections in Japan, one of them being Mio's parents in Mie (near Nagoya). So in a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing on Saturday night, I decided to pay them a visit. It's only a 2 hour express train ride to Nagoya (about 3,500yen, or US$30). And in a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, they decided to give me a Japanese yukata jacket! I forget the proper name.



Mint.

"Where America's Day Begins"

When you work in a Japanese company, the word 'vacation' isn't one you hear in the office very regularly. This isn't because everyone speaks Japanese and they say "休み" (yasumi) instead. It's because, well, Japanese don't really go on holiday, at least not often. When they do, it's always 2-3 day trips, so they can surround the weekend and not lose a week of work. You're not likely to find a week long tour program designed for Japanese in NZ, because noone would use it.

So when the boss told us we're all going on company vacation as a reward for a bumper year, I assumed it meant we were all going to get a half day off to play golf or shop. Turns out we were going to get a MASSIVE 3-day trip to...Guam? I was not expecting to head somewhere I had to look up on a map.

3 most famous things about Guam:
1.) American naval base.
2.) uh....
3.) I'm out.

I probably know Guam better than you - well, obviously now I've been, but even beforehand. In Japan, it probably makes the Top 5 Most Popular Travel Destinations for Japanese. To sum it up, it's like the American Okinawa, which is the Japanese Hawaii. So its the American-Japanese-Hawaii. No, not the same as just "Hawaii".

After having spent 2 days exploring a portion of the main island within the confines of our tour options, I can say the following:

1.) Guam culture is a soft-collision (or an indifferent near miss) of three cultures; American military and the American legislation, Guam locals (the Chamorro) and their laid-back, Micronesian style, and... Japanese tourists. The island is essentially bi-lingual, and if you want a good job then you gotta learn Japanese. American may have won the battle for Guam, but without Japan's tourists coming en masse to enjoy the beach, Guam would need serious financial aid.
2.) It's not a US state (obviously), but on all accounts it should be; it has a governor, you need an American visa to get in, people drink Bud and Miller Lite... and one of the most popular tourist attractions after the sand and surf is the firing ranges. Although I guess in America the guys on the streets would be pulling the gun on you, not calling out as you walk by "Hey bro! You wanna fire a gat?"
3.) Shit's expensive. All the wonderful delicacies of American culture (see: Reece's Pieces, Oh Henry!s, Taco Bell) have to be shipped across the Pacific to get there. And the local stuff has to be expensive so the locals can make a living. Thus, like any good tourist spot, it ain't cheap.

Still, despite a lot of people saying to me either "Guam has nothing", or "Where's Guam?", one thing it does have plenty of is coastline, and that's more than enough for me. I ached for 3 days afterwards from all the wake boarding, scuba diving, para sailing and jet skiing. That's not to say I achieved anything. I'll have to give the wakeboarding a serious go before I can stand up regularly (I don't know if it's being tall or having bad balance, or just being plain old clumsy, but I only stood up once from around 30 tries). The scuba diving wasn't exactly taxing, seeing as none of us had a license to dive far. I was surprised how simple para sailing was - kinda like a big back to front swing. Its easy to forget you're suspended 30-40 metres above the water by straps no bigger than seatbelts - that is, until you look down. Oh, and when you weigh as much as me, and hit the boat on the return with enough momentum to skin your knee, you think once was maybe enough.


Despite being rained out on the second afternoon, Guam was a typical Pacific paradise, only slightly marred by the military and tourism. It's a bit out of the way and not exactly cheap, but if you've got time and money on your hands, there's certainly plenty to enjoy. I figure you may as well hit Thailand though, if you want the same longitude without the US navy.

Amberger

The day McD's makes burgers that look as good as in the photos...I'll eat a lot of them.
Is it just me, or is this just a bit full on?
The good news is, it's Aussie & Kiwi beef.

Lunch Break

The last few weeks work has been slow (hence the sudden burst of blogging), so I thought I'd use the chance to show you how in-the-middle-of-nowhere our factory is, and what I usually do for lunch. I guarantee nothing in terms of how interesting this video is. Apologies for the schizophrenic filming too: most Japanese do not expect you to be wielding a camera in a convenience store.



I'll commentate for it later, and there's also a second half to it, but for now it's bedtime.

How to use your blog to your advantage

David & I melt the camera. (Photo March 07)
DISCLAIMER: This is a blatant plug.

Last night I went out for okonomiyaki with my Spanish mate David. David's gig is a PhD in Nara, but he's more well-known for his blog. And I don't mean like, World Famous In New Zealand kind of famous. I mean like, Borderline Political Influence famous. There are people who read his blog besides the people he's already met. His blog pays a percentage of his mortgage on his house in Madrid. Even more exciting is the term connections. Especially when accompanied by the term business.

So, naturally, the first thing I did was tactically grill him for his fame-inducing techniques. Lord knows my middle name is I-want-to-be-famous-in-Japan. After an hour of conversation over garlic chips, beef&konjac okonomiyaki and beer, I had learned next-to-nothing. No get-rich-quick schemes, no secret password, not even a phone number for blogging consultants.
However, like I said, I learned "next-to-nothing". David got his blog famous by accident. OK, that might be stretching the concept, but he didn't go out of his way to get there. The two things he did do were:

1. Post every day.
2. Comment on everyone else's blogs.

And lets not forget

3. Write in Spanish.

If you're clever, it only takes 20 mins a day to do the first, and around 20 mins a day for the second too (NB: I'm not clever. It takes me hours to post. I'm the equivalent of a writer who balls up the paper he's writing on and three-points it in the trashcan every 5 mins). But number three? Damn, got me there.

These days everything imaginable has been blogged, at least in English. The Spanish advantage comes in that the ratio of English to Spanish blogs has got to be more than 3:1 (Wikipedia will tell you that English, as a first or second language, is used by around 1.8 billion people). Add in the fact that Japan is having a vogue phase in Spain (both in culture and business), and suddenly people want to know what you have to say. Loads of his followers are Japanese language students in Spain & South America, hoping to lift a bit of information about the country they're studying.

All this made me feel fairly inferior, but mostly confused. What does his blog offer that my blog doesn't? I can read enough Spanish to know I'm a more creative writer than he is - isn't that all people want in literature? Something that's interesting to read?
I think I've sussed it out though. Firstly it was the information he supplied in his blog: telling you stuff you might be able to learn in books, but as more of an "eye witness", confirming that yes, Japan has temples and tanuki and silent trains. Now it's got to the point that the following is the self-sustaining point about it. It's almost like a BBS with a forced topic each day. He sets up posts to go off daily, sometimes weeks in advance, and plans out topics for up to a month's worth of blogging. Talk about turning it into an industry.
99% of money he gets in the blog is from banner ads requested by companies (eg. La Liga betting), but occasionally he gets a mail from some company who want a bit more in the way of "product placement". "We'll pay you 200EUR to mention that you used our flights website to get the cheapest flights back to Spain." That's perfectly good business, but does anyone else feel a bit dirty when they read that? As far as I know, David doesn't write anything he doesn't believe in, so rest assured, you can trust his word. (Having said that, he's a convoluted bloke when it comes to relationships, something I both envy and think is a bit wrong. But then again, it seems to be the status quo for any guy in Europe to have a few on the take)

For those of you who read Español, check out David's blog (Flapy). For those, like me, who just want to look at the pretty pictures, check out his Flickr (Destebani). He's not too shabby with a camera.

Computing in the name of

I could write a review of how wonderfully awesome Daft Punk's gig was two weeks ago (I rate their Alive tour as hands down the most entertaining live act I've been to). But there's plenty of reviews out there - if you want to find one, be my guest. I have different fish to battle.

Best Remix I have heard this year (and I've heard a few):

NB: Its only audio, and there's 3 mins of deadness at the end, so don't bother listening after it ends. Also, I think someone has blended the remix with the original, because the remix doesn't usually have the last third of the song.

This guy, and his mate Kaspersky, are also French (like DP). I don't know what they fed the babies of the late 70s in Paris, but they grew up to make awesome beats.

$265 Shoebox

You want floor space with that?
So I'm back in Japan. That was fast. If this was a movie, and my life was the plot (I wish...), then the time since the last post can be considered a missing reel. Hey, Planet Terror did it, I can do it too. I won't even explain the time lost. Instead I'll refer to it like you've already seen that part. Weren't paying attention? Want your money back? Go talk to Tarou in the box office. The homeless guy down the street who lives in a box, not the movie ticket place.

I moved out of my apartment when I left, a strenuous exercise if you don't have a moving team or a car. I can relate to people who have had to move on their own. Your pain is my pain. Man, if I have to think back to the amount of times I had to go into the room, pick up a bunch of badly packed junk, waddle out, along the conchord and into the room next door...
OK, so I only moved 20 metres. I'm in a room that has walls touching my old one, so I can tell how annoying I must have been for the previous occupant. These walls are hard enough I can bend a nail when I try to hammer it in, but they're still like tattoo parlour beads when it comes to blocking noise. What's more, the wall separating me from my roommate would not meet the Oxford dictionary's definition of a wall. Its a shoji, or rice screen door (this one obviously made from fake plastic rice), and it doesn't fit the frame, so there's always a sizeable hole that acts like some kind of stethoscope, funneling the audible activity from next door. Best contraceptive ever.

5mm of plexiglass separates you from an audience
during sex.

I'm lucky my roommate's a bit of all right. A Canadian 30-year-old girl, she works opposite hours to me, but for some reason the noise when she comes home doesn't bother me. I guess after living with 5 family members for so long, I actually prefer a bit of activity. Though she's yet to have fights with me over the TV (we don't have a working one, and who would want to watch Japanese TV. I'd have more fun licking my pillow).

My room, at \30,000/month ($US265) is cheap for central Osaka. But what you pay is what you get, and thus its something of a solo sardine tin. Japanese measure floor space in 畳 (jou), which is the size of a tatami mat. There are 4 tatami in my room, which gives me around 6.6 sq m to play with. Add my futon (3sq m), TV (a completely useless 1 sq m), suitcase, shelves, and accumulated crap, and you have approximately negative 2 square metres in which to reside. We have a bigger bathroom in my parent's house in NZ. This makes that look like a concert hall.

It's not the worst living conditions in Japan I've ever heard of, and it's cheap like the budgie. Plus, without a room like this, I'd run out of fuel for my cynic comedy fire. Tatami burns well. So does the glittery walls. Not wallpaper. Walls. I don't know what they're made of or what they were thinking when they made them

Seems OK from long distance, however...

(I'd ask, but I think the architect died 30 years ago). Still, they don't moult like the room next door. I used to wake up thinking I had the worst dandruff ever recorded, and it sparkled.





On closer inspection, someone shaved a mirror ball onto the walls.
This kind of room is quite common in Japan, where size has to meet costs and demanded rent prices. You'd think the Japanese would have a cute name for them, making light of the cramped conditions. Instead they stole a word from English that is actually more embarrassing than humourous: they're called mansions.

Fast Times in Dongguan

WARNING: This post, like all posts I make after an interval, will involve a reflective moment on how slack I am. To skip this, press the Start button, or merely don't read the first paragraph.

There's a lot of drive required to post on a blog in China. For one, you don't get paid. Unless you quit your day job or your social life, you'll never write something that will make you famous. It's pretty much like writing a diary or doing your tax. "I'll do it tomorrow" is always an adequate excuse. China doesn't help, by conveniently making it impossible for you to actually read your own blog. Like talking with headphones on, you soon wonder if what you're saying isn't coming out funny.
So I'm pleasantly impressed that I have made it to 28 posts on this blog, and only slightly disappointed in myself that I haven't posted since July. There's one other really big reason: my already bulging work hours have increased. I now work on average 78 hours a week, at a hourly rate of approximately ￥950 (NZ$11.10/hr). It's really hard to justify that pay rate, though I would say I'm benefiting experience-wise. Difficult to quantify "experience-value" though.

A lot has happened since the last time I was free (and eager) enough to write. August saw a brief trip back to Japan, and Summer Sonic Music Festival, featuring a bunch of bands I loved, but mostly ones I had only just heard about. Highlights included Digitalism, Editors, Fall Out Boy, 30 Seconds to Mars, Bloc Party, The Fratellis, Vitalic, Klaxons, Goo Goo Dolls, and for you pop fans, Avril, Gwen and The BEP. It also provided interesting opportunities to check out bands I never thought I see (or necessarily want to): The Offspring, Sugar Ray, and Jose Gonzalez among them. The Offspring are fun with a Japanese crowd, even after all these years, because they all know the lyrics and shout them at the top of their lungs. 30 seconds also provided a massive crowd of screaming fans - Jared Leto gained himself a whole new fan club with his Hollywood smile and emo suit. He's talented, that's for sure, but either his mike was too low or he has no power, because his voice was lost amid the guitar. He also severely tried my patience when he told everyone to put their "diamonds in the sky" and "promise each other we would never forget this day as long as we live." For a 40 minute midday set when you're not the headline act, I think he was asking a bit much. Noone was going to forget... until "Pretty Fly For a White Guy" was played later that evening.

Fall Out Boy surpassed my expectations, especially as I've seen them 3 times - they just play good music, like to mix it up and really get into the crowd. The Japanese crowd really get into them too - deep contrast with the guys who watch the indie bands, any band that can remotely called "punk" attracts a bunch of guys who really like to jump up and down. I must admit, I prefer this kind of Japanese crowd to anything you'd get in New Zealand. This time around Fall Out Boy's highlights included a slightly parodical version of R. Kelly's "Ignition" (to which Mio had kittens), Michael Jackson's "Beat It" (very cool) and a hip-hop intro on "Dance, Dance", along with the now obligatory "Dancing Roadie", this fat guy with an afro who moonwalks and destroys his dignity in a selfless moment of entertainment. This time he came on in faded boxers and socks. Hilarious in a slightly concerning way.

Anyway, music was August's highlight, but when September rolled around, I was transferred. Originally working on a large project for Nintendo, I was moved to take a slightly smaller but more appropriate project - communications for an American customer project. The move involved a change of factory, moving into an apartment, and changing the guys I work with.
The apartment is insane - you'd never get anything like this in Japan. With a living room that rivals our house in New Zealand, and 4 bedrooms, at 50 bucks a week per head, its the upper class of China at student prices. Check out the space and the view.



The guys I work with now are some of the most liberal Japanese I know - they're into talking on level terms and respect that people have lives outside of work. In China we're in a perfect position to get away with things that are not possible in Japan due to expectations from customers, such as more casual dress and taking 90mins for lunch (we sometimes work til 10-11pm and don't get overtime for it, so I'm fairly sure we deserve a long midday break). It feels more like an "as long as the work gets done" kind of atmosphere, which is nice because it promotes a good office vibe. The project leader is a 40 year old guy who would give me a run for my money on crazy sense of humour (he has slightly odd moments, like pretending to eat PU foam bread and impersonating our translators, but it makes him all the easier to work with). The other guy came to the company slightly after me, has passable English and after working as a cram-school teacher for years, he's a pretty with-it guy. It's also awesome to have someone who understands (or tries to) my English jokes.

The other members are two translators, who are "Korean-Chinese", meaning they are from the peninsula area near North Korea, and as their ancestors are Korean, they speak Korean at home, and thanks to the Japanese occupancy of the past, learn Japanese in school (unlike other areas of China, who learn English). Their Japanese is pretty good - they didn't study university level like me, but still impressive), but good God they have no control over the volume of their voices. If one of them gets on the phone in the office, the noise is unbearable and no human could work under the conditions. Part of it is the accent, but I think most of it is that some Chinese have this irritating habit of talking at the same time as other people. Interruption is rife in this country, and I have come to a zero tolerance attitude with it: if I'm asking the translator to convey something and the other party start talking, I "Oi!" at them (well, as politely as possible, but a line must be drawn). I'm sure it doesn't earn me friends, but honestly, it's impossible to communicate if what you said never gets heard. Fight fire with...louder fire.

I have plenty of small stories I could make a weeks worth of blogs with, and if I get the chance I will, but for now consider yourselves mildly up to speed. Like the title suggests, a week is not a long time here, really. Blink and it's Wednesday. I have approximately enough time before lunch to check 2 emails. So at least working overtime doesn't get to me - there's always something to be done. Hell, otherwise we'd go home.

Industri-chaos

Warning: This rant, while being mildly educational and occasionally sniping, is probably too "work-related" to be genuinely entertaining. Can you blame me? I worked 85 hours this week.

Let me provide you with some insight on a common misconception about China. What do you know about the country and it's people? Do you figure everyone here who doesn't know kung fu and lives in temples in the mountains is working in a sweat shop, toiling away industriously for pittance a day? Well, you're partly right. Right about the pittance. Right about the toiling. But sometimes I wonder if what they do can be referred to as "work". I mean, labour, sure. But "work" for me sort of indicates a systematic and intelligent approach to a project, with rules and deadlines and...order. Obviously nobody told most of China.

Let me say that I'm only basing what I write on 3 months experience with 4 supplier factories in South East China. To generalise the whole state of the nation on just this would be a mistake, but I still think a lot of it is valid in a lot of the country. China has to be one of the least industrious industrial nations around. You'd be surprised. It's not because they don't work hard, it's because they don't work smart. It's like building a giant brick wall in record speed, only to find you left your car keys on the other side. Ask China. They know a lot about giant walls.

Some of it is people being stupid. We lost production for 2 days in one of our factories at a crucial time. Why? Someone forgot to order the packaging materials. Did you think we were just going to stuff all the products in a duffel bag and carry it to the customers? Here's your (out-of-)order, sirs.
Some of it is just how this funny old country seems to operate. The same factory fuelled our frustrations further the other day, by suddenly reporting
"oh, we're due to increase production, but we don't have electricity..."
I'm sorry? How are you planning to run the machines? On rice (and bad Asian stereotypes)?
Admittedly they couldn't have seen this coming. Or maybe they could have. They had applied to the power company 2 months in advance, asking for more power by the required date. But when they called up to see where it was, they were told they had to wait a month. Warning? None. Options? Well, a healthy bribe was only able to reduce this delay to 10 days. Reduce loss to only around $70,000 in production. So complain to the government or legal system? Ahem. The power company is owned by the government. They ARE the legal system. This is why I love communism. All equal, some deified. Sure, trying to organise the electricity for over a billion people must be a bitch. But that's no reason to change the rules at will.
C'est la vie? Well, if you work here long enough you should be able to pick these things up before they cause you strife. Ask for power "now" one month in advance. Surely this isn't the first time the government has broken promises.

Some of what is going on here is good, it's just done in such an intense an unrealistic way. A factory somewhere else in China was recently exposed to have heavy underage labour. Not the only one probably, but it made waves. Suddenly the local government turned around here and said "Over-16 year olds can be hired, but if they're under 18 they must only work 8 hour, 5 day-weeks, and only day shifts." I agree. But how about some warning? I think everyone would like to know a several weeks beforehand that they are going to have to find 70 new staff.

This week has been a hectic juggle of problems to try to balance product quality with quantity. One factory, scheduling to be making 25,000 units a day by now, are too busy repairing the product molding machines to produce more than 300 pieces. Not that they reported any of their problems to us. Nor is there any real desparation, or intelligent thinking about how to solve this problem. It's as though they figure they'll make what they're supposed to, on the timeline of "eventually". They're sad they're not getting paid yet, but their first reaction is not to solve the problems quicker, but to ask us "can we ask you to pay for all the materials we used to make bad products?" What, so essentially give you money for screwing up? Sure. Let me write you a cheque. I'll sign it "jackass".

Some Chinese are very intelligent. Some work their asses off for little money. But it would appear that there is rarely a combination of these two traits in one person. Which probably makes sense. If I was smart and Chinese, I wouldn't work a crap job for bugger-all either.

Sunset in SE China

Got back to the hotel early enough the other day to catch the sun - usually me and him rarely cross paths during the day. He's there when I wake up, but its always old-marriage stuff; we never get to hang out over a cup of coffee. And by the looks of my white skin, I'd say we are long due for some quality time.

Karaoke, but not as you know it

The view from the hotel this afternoon.
I'd like to thank my mother for my curls.

Sunday afternoon. How much more could I possibly love this time of the week? All my life I used to love Friday night - all the weekend ahead of me; I could do anything and the repurcussions would surely only last til Sunday morning, and I'd still have a day in hand. Admittedly when I was around 10 years old I used to feel anxious on Friday night because we'd have soccer on Saturday morning, and though I loved playing, I used to suck at waiting for the game. I used to pray it would be rained off, so I wouldn't have to deal with the buildup. Which is kinda ironic, because I was then disappointed when game time came around and we couldn't play.

But now Friday night is just like Monday night, just another day before work. Work on Saturday is usually more relaxed, but it's still work. Anyway, back to Sunday afternoon. Sigh. No obligation, except to eat and breathe. I can lie on my bed all day and I'm the only one who will beat myself up for it. I do intend to be productive today, which is what this is, along with a gym session later today. I've never been a gym guy, but I decided its high time I did something about my puny breasts. The training bra must come off. I thought I was bench pressing granny weights, but then I realised the bar itself weighs 20kg, so its slightly more respectable. Still not enough for me to brag about it on here. I hate people who talk about their personal physical prowess, so I'll shut up (mainly because I have nothing to brag about).

Last night I was dragged along to a work dinner, which makes me sound like a brat with no respect, but to be honest if you'd been there and had to deal with the drunken ramblings of 40-something temperamental Japanese guys, you'd have wanted to run screaming yourself. I would rather not talk about it, but makes for interesting reading (I presume), so I might have to write about it in a collective post about Japanese cultural setbacks. I promise it's more than just a whinge.

So 9pm rolled around and we were set free, with the other guys heading off to play billiards with the hotel escorts, and me sneaking away to meet up with friends at karaoke. I say "sneaking" because apparently I'm not allowed. Oh dear, it appears some of the above paragraph is leaking back in here. But it's necessary backstory, so bear with me: My mates here are from a Taiwanese supplier company we are outsourcing at the moment. But business with them is all still at a volatile point, with lots of points of debate between the companies (like production output, and the "m" word... "money", for those of you less subtle). Long story short, my company would prefer we don't get too close to the supplier staff, to maintain professional business relations. I certainly believe in this when it comes to the other 3 suppliers, as I feel they are letting us down. Need to stick pretty firmly to our guns with them. But with these Taiwanese, I think we've achieved a good relationship of mutual respect. Maybe it's safer to guard your hand, but this isn't going to be the company that will dick us over. So, whether it's because I enjoy the good cop role offset against the bad cop that my workmates play, or whether it's just because the Taiwanese are pretty cool guys (I think it's both), I'm not going to let Japanese standards stop me from making friends. Just as long as it doesn't land me in trouble - though even Vincent and the other supplier guys know they shouldn't go telling my workmates about our fraternising.

Chinese karaoke. When I say that, do you think of Rush Hour 2, with Chris Tucker impersonating Michael in front of a crowd of businessmen? Well, now remove that image. Nothing like it. Japanese karaoke is different from Western karaoke because they tend to go with the booth setup - just you and a bunch of mates sitting around getting drunk and hoarse as the night rolls on. Nothing like the movie "Duets" or the K-Club in Wellington. China does this too, but they add another factor: karaoke girls. In fact, in China any private establishment seems to be an excuse to have an escort service. The hotel "sauna" is what is usually referred to as a "gentlemen's club". When I ring up from my room to request a masseus, they always ask "Just a massage sir?" "Yes, just a massage, what do you think I am, sexually frustrated?" Curiousity (and alcohol) got the better of me the other day, and I asked what the alternative was. Asked, not requested. "Why, the Special Service sir." What, like an elite military group? Or a birthday cake brought in with a barbershop quartet? It all sounds quite harmless, so I asked how much this special service might cost. 730RMB, or NZ$123. "Ah, so its sex then," I blurted drunkenly. Thankfully I left it at cutting remarks, and requested "just-a-massage". One thing I don't think I will ever consider as fun is paying for sex.

So in the karaoke you have a room lavished with alcohol (usually red wine or Japanese sake), velvet couches, fruit (melons, lychees, grapes), and girls. The girls tend to be sent in in a line, like a catalogue, and you are supposed to pick and choose one or two girls each to spend the night with. Her job is to snuggle up to the guy, pour his drinks, light his cigarettes (if he smokes, which most guys do), drink when he drinks, laugh when he laughs, dance with him, compliment him if he sings, and generally be the perfect date for the evening. She gets 200RMB for that, and if he's up for it (and has enough money), she goes home with him. She has a bit of a say in it, but I don't think any of the girls ever say no. They tend to value their jobs over their personal comfort.
For my part, I showed up late this time, so I didn't have to go through the painful process of choosing a girl I don't really want. Some guys may think this position of pseudo-superiority is a great power trip (one of Vincent's friends referred to having two girls as "being the emperor"), but to me it all just feels fake. I like talking to chicks, but if they're being paid to talk to me, where's the fun in that? How can you tell if she's really entertained by you? Last time I went through the selection process (mostly not to look like a sour grape, and partly to give it a go so I could justify my opinion). Choosing a girl is hard - saying "you please" effectively says to all the other girls "you're unacceptable". Maybe not that harshly, but surely there's girls who never get picked, and how would that make you feel? Life shouldn't be a constant beauty contest.
In the end I picked a girl who wasn't spectacular, but she looked like she had a slight cynicism about the job, and I decided to make her evening a good one. I figured I pick her she'd get paid for a night without having to perform, like she would if some older Chinese guy chose her. I told her "I don't really want anything from you, other than to relax and have a good evening." Worked out pretty well, and we even shared some humour (including jokes about the whole system) that made for a pretty fun night.

This time around I was too busy singing "Billie Jean" and "Hotel California", along with harassing my drunken friends, to worry about having to tell any of the girls I wasn't interested. I did play dice with a bunch of the girls, who were ridiculous cheaters, but it just made it more amusing. Other highlights included rapping over the top of Chinese songs I didn't know the words to, lending my sunglasses to almost everyone in the room (with mixed results of style), and taking pictures, which I'll post here. All in all, I don't really buy into the whole escort service here, but it doesn't mean I can't have fun. Plus, being the only guy in the room who can sing English songs means I get extra applause, even when I know I stuffed it up royally (word of advice: don't sing Pretty Fly For a White Guy unless you're sure you can do a good Offspring impression, and have the lungs for it).

Me and Vincent big it up.

Keith and Vincent say hi to their mums.

Two of the girls, one of whom needs to give my glasses back.

Vincent breathes style into Chinese pop.

Summer and festivity

[Edit: put a few pics below]

So, what was once every two days has now seemingly turned into once a month. Posting here in China is hard work, I'll have you know - I have to overcome the massive obstacles of bad internet, and the collossus known as "meh, can't be stuffed"-syndrome. Getting home at 11.30pm and usually slightly drunk really isn't a help for the cause. Try telling that to my boss though: "I don't want to go out for dinner, because the world-wide web awaits my written word!" Actually I'd say that, if I thought he understood English.

Before we get back into the "How's China" motif that is my life lately, I thought I'd mention that I was back in Japan recently, albeit for only 3 days. I had to cram nearly 2 months of catching up and chores into a weekend and half a Monday (I spent the other half at work). Luckily I had timed my return perfectly to coincide with the summer festival of my old uni, Osaka University of Foreign Studies ("Gaidai"), in its final year before it merges with the local mammoth, Osaka Uni ("Handai").

This was my third summer festival, and my first one in which it didn't rain. The problem is timing - its placed at the end of the monsoon in Japan (not as extreme as in India and the like, but May-June is certainly the "rainy season"). Any later (in actual "summer") and the students have exams, and then the summer break, when hardly anyone is around. However, this year we got lucky, and the rain didn't make a cameo. Good stuff, seeing as I don't think there's going to be another "Gaidai" festival. Shame really, as you can always rely on arts students to put on a good show (seeing as most of them don't go to class).

Highlights of the day included Mio's flamenco group, one of the few clubs that will survive the merger (Handai doesn't have flamenco, its probably too cultural for them). Japanese doing flamenco sounds a little odd, as would Latinos doing judo or Maoris doing Riverdance. But it works, probably more than if blondes or gingas did it. Japanese still have that darkness (and I don't mean "dark side", I mean like black coffee or dark chocolate), and their beauty is not unlike Latinos. The performance is less "passionate" and more "elegant", but it works, mate.

Mio and Kaori on stage.

Checked out the futsal soccer tournament going on too, and caught up with guys who had graduated and I hadn't seen in ages. Overall the day was full of that: people I hadn't seen in months or years, and all our lives are heading in such different directions that I really don't know when (or if) I'll see most of them again. It was awesome and yet honestly, really depressing. In perspective, I spend insane multiples of time with people at work compared with the amount I even spend with my girlfriend or family. And yet, without trying to sound arrogant, none of the guys in my company deserve more than an hour of my whole life, in my humble opinion. Life is too short as it is, why should I be spending it with people who I can barely stand, and who don't seem to have much time for me? Life is cruel and ironic like that.

Funny, this post was supposed to be about Japanese universities in the summer. But now we've digressed to the flaw of employment. I blame the fact that in the last two weeks all I've really had time for is work, which is why I haven't been able to post this yet. Still, that's how I felt on the day. Like a kid at a candy store with only a dollar and 2 minutes in which to spend it, because the place is about to close down and all the lollies will be burned. That's pretty much my life in a nutshell. Splendour on fast-forward.

The day ended with a bang, as everyone danced the "Bon Odori", the dance for departed souls. Usually I find it kinda cheesy and overrated. But with a few thousand people massed around a stage with a taiko drum, everyone chanting and jumping around, it felt like a rock concert full of friends. Topped off with a mass balloon release, it was a pretty neat sendoff to a university that has been the hub of my social life for the last 3 years. The place won't change, and hears hoping the vibe doesn't either. Famous for the second highest suicide rate in universities in Japan, but the guys and girls that didn't kill themselves were awesome.

A moment of surprise, and everyone accidentally lets go
of their balloons. On purpose.

One of hundreds of self portraits.

Quotes from birthday mails

...your cunningness in moving to china means your birthday is actually 28 hours long (I think). And that means I feel kinda ripped off coz not only was mine normal length but all I got was this lousy T-shirt.... Wouldn't that be strange? If we printed T-shirts that said all of ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ that? I think they'd fly off the shelves. Not literally fly, of course, we're not in Finland! Not anymore!

～No, indeed we are not. But who could forget those fajitas.

There's not a lot of interesting stuff you can write about birthdays anymore. You already got your presents and I'm stumped if I have any idea of how to get any more to you nowadays. Seems you've removed yourself from the known face of the postal-planet as far as I'm concerned. At least that was my excuse for not getting up and wandering around figuring out what to get you.

～You're off the hook. I don't think that excuse would get you out of paying a speeding ticket though, so you'll have to show a little cleavage if you ever get stopped.

Your father took off for a month overseas when you were 6 months old, this coincided with the extension finished and your new bedroom next door to ours ready for you. And that was the start of your life, 23 years later with 2 brothers and 1 sister, a few cats, mice, rats, fish, girlfriends and of course the old parents, you are being fashioned into the man you are now. These years for you are supposed to be good years though I know sometimes you do things that are maybe not so much fun on the way to something that should be great. At least you have family and friends who love you even though we cannot be with you on this day.

～Father took off eh? That's probably why I'm such a mummy's boy. That, and who wouldn't be, with a mum like you?

Vanilla Bear...
Today is the first day of another 365 day journey around the sun. Hope you enjoy the ride =)
I wish you health, wealth and happiness ! (but in the order of: health, happiness, wealth). It just doesn't sound as good when you say it though =)
Have a wicked awesome day. Miss ya loads !

～Miss you too Mocha Bear. Glad to hear you think the earth revolving around the sun revolves around my birthday. You and me both☆

Tim今日たんじょーびじゃん♪おめでと～ (。・ｘ・)ゝ
23だったよね♪　良い年になりますよーに！！

～ありがとうちゃん～23歳やけど、絶対まだおっさんじゃないよ！「親父ギャグ」大好きけどね☆

Happy birthday, sweetness, I hope you have an excellent day. You're old like us now! Get your workmates to shout you booze.

～Ta lady - day was OK, but I'm hoping for a better average over the course of the year ;) PS. I'm not old like you, I'm young like me. Suspiciously, exactly like me. Hmmm.

Today is the day you become the grand age of twenty-three (and it's also the national holiday of Sweden), with grand being the first part of grandparent. Or grandfather. Or grandmother. I remember when grandmother was a huge word in spelling tests - that and wheelbarrow. But you're not a wheelbarrow. Nor a grand-anything, unless you mean a grand person! See, I always find a way to flatter someone.

～Your mail was my favourite. If your mail was a friend, it would be the kind that took me out for a picnic and then opened the basket to find lemurs inside, and then we would all take polaroids and stick them on bus windows. It would be the best day ever!


～You always go to great lengths for people's birthdays, but I think here you outdid yourself. I haven't had a car cake since my 8th birthday! Score!

Thanks guys, I really appreciate yous ;) And to everyone else who got in touch with me. A waitress in our hotel was really excited about being on time to say Happy Birthday to me today, and I felt a bit bad about having to tell her that she'd mistaken the other 6 for a 9...still nice though. I think I'll buy her peroxide for her birthday.

I23

So, Wednesday was my 23rd birthday. But you could have fooled me. There were a few birthday-esque things about it, but as a rule I'd probably put it down as my loneliest birthday so far. Not that lots of people who know me didn't try really hard to make it special, which I was really grateful for.

My day started at 3.45, when I woke up and called Mum to mumble semi-conscious thanks for bringing me into the world and not bringe-drinking while pregnant so as I could grow up to have this Spartan physique and eloquent vocabulary. I don't think I used as many words or overexaggerations as that, but oh well - artistic license.

Back to bed, only to wake up at 6.40 to go pick up members of Nintendo. Amid a busy day touring one of our supplier's factories, we were invited out to lunch by the factory's VP. 5-Star restaurant on your birthday? Yes please. Having said that, noone knew (or else didn't remember). What made this all the more laughable is that when our manager mentioned it was his birthday on Sunday, everyone gave him hearty congratulations. Fair enough, and I wasn't about to say anything out of the blue. But then, someone happened to say to me "you're 22 right Tim?". Oh HO I'm not thank you very much, was my triumphant reply; it's my birthday today, I'll have you know I'm 23 (of course I didn't say it like a pompous English ass, rather I said it in Japanese, but it makes for better reading if I flower up the dialogue, don't you think?)
What kind of response would you expect? "Oh, Happy Birthday" might be standard. "Really?" would be fair enough. But what did I get, from almost all members at the table? "You're lying." Why would I lie about being 23? I don't necessarily WANT to be older (maybe it would get me more respect at the company, but I'm not that desparate). Even though I continued to claim my honest, noone believed me. I cracked out my driver's license, but they were more interested in my 15-year-old picture than in the evidence. What's with that? I mean, I make jokes, but since when am I not to be trusted on my own birthdate?

NB: When we got in the car to leave, I was sitting next to a manager from Nintendo, who asked me again how old I was, and when I told him it really happened to be my birthday, he offered me congratulations. Good on him.

Complaining about the company aside, it was a pretty decent birthday lunch (and gratis too), including: Peanuts & cashews, sweet&sour pork, fish, tofu, goose (I was surprised too) and of course, combination fried rice. Or the 5-star equivalent. All that was missing was wine, but we had coke and I can't say I was disappointed. Just wondering where the chippies were (and why we didn't play pass-the-parcel).

Got home pretty late, to find the hotel had left me a gift in my room: an extravagantly decorated cake. If only it wasn't as tasteless as it was garnished. Still, it's the thought (and the customer goodwill) that counts. Check out how many forks they gave me to eat it with! 10 in total. They make the gross assumption that I actually KNOW 10 people here. And no, Takeya staff don't count. They wouldn't eat cake with me if I paid them.

Mio sent me a present with an awesome watch, complete with a button the function of which is just to change the style in which the seconds count on it. She also gave me my very first "voice message card", which I guess is only a few steps removed from a singing telegram. Honest, awesome idea - you can record a short message built into the card body, which the lucky so&so who gets it can play back to their heart's content. Wish I'd designed that. It's the kind of thing I've had dreams about.

Also, for some odd reason, the housekeeping staff left me the daily newspaper for the 6th of June. I guess some people like to save the front page of the newspaper on their birthday. But usually they probably like to save a newspaper that is published in a language they can actually read. Even if my Mandarin was top notch, to be honest this article looks more boring than watching Prince Charles sleep. Besides - where's my picture? Under the headline "Kiwi boy enters country, raises national height average by over a foot".

All in all it was a pretty average birthday - the lowlight was eating my first birthday dinner alone (I passed up eating with my colleagues as we would have been out all night, and not in the "man, we were out all night, it was off the hook" kind of way.
But thanks heaps to everyone who mailed me, you rock my cyber-world. If you're a little patient, I'll give you your 15 mins... but for now that's all from me.

Happy My-Birth-Week!

Happy Birthday to Me

I'll post more on my rather uneventful but still extremely postable day later. For now, I'm officially 23. A PRIME NUMBER. I don't like prime numbers much (except for the single digit ones). Hopefully my year is not reflected in my numerical taste.

Toodles!

Grandpa - I mean Tim

Thoughts from work

Were you looking all over for me?

Things I've pondered while killing time at work in a sweltering factory office in China:

- What are all the workers in the factories thinking when they stare me like that? They ALL do. And when I smile or nod, most of them just keep staring. Freaks me out.

- Do the weird bugs that come out of the woodwork after sunset in droves here have malaria? How about senses of humour?

- Delayed orgasm is kung-fu. I could explain the train of thought that led me to this, but I think it's more fun if I don't☆

- Do planets in deep space smell like wet sawdust if they're uninhabited, and oil if they are, like in my dreams?

- Are fake boobs vulcanised? That would make a fun ice-breaker at parties. Or a party game: "Vulcanise The Boob (On The Donkey)".

- What would AnPanMan be if he forgot his underwear? NoPanMan? You need a background in Japanese humour to fully appreciate how cheesy that is.

- Why trilogies? For that matter, why prequels?

- Do dogs in China know they are going to be eaten, any more than sheep in New Zealand do? That may have been in bad taste (I don't know, I've never tasted dog)

- How many people around the world have made a complete fool out of themselves in the last 5 minutes?

- I hope Michael J. Fox is doing OK.

- The cheeky Hong Kong sales rep from our factory supplier looks like a beaver. And his colleagues look like a cat and a bear Now that I can see that, I can't "un-see" it. Getting kinda scared that animals are talking to me.

Last but not least, I heard THIS on the radio here today. Booya.
This one is a little more odd... "Sekai ichi no, Hiiro!"

You little beauties

Doesn't look like it was a tremendous game, but good on yas!

I might have seen China today

As I'm sure I mentioned earlier (stuffed if I'm going to back-read my own blog), I spend essentially all my time here either in the wonderful 5-star hotel I'm staying in, or the factories we are here to commission the business of. So the "China" I am apparently living in it mostly a legend to me. I get glimpses of it from car windows and restaurant tables, and I'm constantly told I should avoid it at night, but I'm itching for the chance to make acquaintances. Most of all some new friends would be nice - not that all my current ones aren't special, yes you are, but you're a little...inaccessible at the moment. Or maybe that's me. Its all relative. Either way, doing stuff on my own has never been my specialty, so I wouldn't mind the chance to arrange some partners in crime.

So far, the only window I've really had is through the hotel restaurant staff. The manager is a 25year old woman with fairly decent English, and after chatting to her for a bit we've become mates of a sort, though we don't exactly have much chance to hang out. I can't say "do you want to watch a dvd or something", seeing as fraternising with the customers is an unwritten no-no. However, by chance today I passed up the chance to go to the city with the Takeya crew, and at lunch she said she was going to the local mall, for nothing in particular. She didn't complain to my tagging along, so we caught the hotel bus into town.

Strolling through the streets can hardly be called "strolling", with people walking all over broken footpaths, cars doing what cars do here - which is more beeping than driving - and construction zones all over the show, with no real barrier between construction and pedestrians. All in all you feel like you're very much in a living and breathing society, just with a lot of coughing and wheezing along the way. And all this in 30 seconds from the bus to the mall.

The mall itself could only be referred to using words like "grandeur", with a massive circular space in the centre that extended through 6 floors to the ceiling, which was coated in upside-down umbrellas. I think it was art, but they may have been there to catch any leakages in the roof.

This caption has nothing to do with the above picture.
Throat-warbler mangrove.

I didn't really buy anything outstanding at the mall, but I did decide to go food shopping. At first this was nothing special - some Snickers, pestachios, fruit jellies (classic China there). But then we passed the produce, and the durians caught my eye.

Durians: Prickly pears of stench.

These are Thai fruit which I think we have on occasion in New Zealand, massive prickly things that look like they would hurt more than taste good.
I've never had one, but Vivian (the restaurant girl) said they tasted good, but smelt something fierce. Later on her godfather was to refer to the smell as "like the shit of a cat". He wasn't wrong. Like strong cheese and onions. A smell I can't term as bad, but intense, and something you'd expect from a really heavy hot dog rather than a fruit. Still, it tasted good, though I had to chuck most of it because my room was lacking oxygen. I recommend the tasting part, just don't invite a man carrying a durian into your home.

We were gonna hit some shoe stores in the everlasting quest to find shoes in Asia that fit me, but the rain came down on a colossal scale, the streets were flashflooded and a state of emergency was called. Well, not quite, but it certainly felt like I'd finally experienced "monsoon season". China doesn't really give the image of a country prepared for large amounts of rain, which is surprising considering how much there is. You think they'd get wise and plan for it.

People shelter in the mall entranceway from precipitating chaos.

But then again, you think New Zealanders would get wise that it gets cold in the winter, and properly seal and double glaze the windows. We're all a bunch of slackers.

I watched El Laberinto del Fauno ('Pan's Labyrinth') last night, a Spanish movie by impressive director Guillermo del Toro. It was great, though I'm slightly unsure what the target audience is. Maybe it's people like me, who like a good genre-mixer, aren't afraid of blood, especially if it's original. Would be best described as a gruesome fairy tale. All I can say is, I freakin love Español. Learning lots of Chinese here, but I'd rather be speaking Spanish. It's such a fun language to speak - maybe its because I feel the need to say every word of it as an impression of Bela Lugosi.

Dinner time.

A Chinaman by any other name...

It's been raining here for the past 4 days. We had a massive thunderstorm, like only Asia knows how to have - my favourites. It kicks serious ass being able to feel the thunder when a bolt hits close-by. Think I'd like to avoid feeling the lightning though.

So the raining pouring down makes driving (or at least being driven) all the more fun. You just know when the car is shooting down the road (that feels like it suffered an airstrike in some places) at 80, with everything drenched that if something bad happened, there's no way the car would stop or even slow down in time. The fact that the driver is the only one who bothers to wear a seatbelt also means that we're in a timebomb on wheels. Half the time in taxis the rear seatbelts are actually removed, or at least the bottom clips are pushed so far into the cushion there's no way you'd get them out (this is also common in Japan), so you don't even get to choose your peril. Stats in Japan say you're 4x more likely to die in a car crash if you're in the back without a seatbelt than if you "make it click" (0.01% vs 0.04% if I remember correctly). So I had a brief pondering of my fate in the carride home tonight, secretly praying that the last minutes I had on Earth were not packed in a car with 40-year old grumpy Japanese.

Anyway, my post today was supposed to be more chipper. With the rain and nothing to do but work its hard to look on the bright side, but even work has its moments. Such as the giggles I've been working hard to stifle when receiving business cards of the Chinese correspondants we have. I don't mean to be rude, and most of the time the guys are pretty neat, but there are some pretty cruel names kicking about.
Without further ado, for your viewing pleasure, here are some examples:

I would pay this guy a lot of money if he would only marry
Miss Tang.

Now Mr. Poon (snicker) didn't have a say in his name. But Chinese and Koreans love to give themselves an alternate English name, so that when they talk to foreigners, they don't slaughter their Chinese one with ignorant pronounciation. And that name, they DO get to choose. It's moments like these when you get to meet 5-foot guys named:

His hobbies include beehives and porridge.

I'm fairly sure that the staff of SpeedTech are descended from the Navajo, which explains the nature names. My personal favourite, not least of all because he looks like an Asian Peter Pan, is:

That's a surname. His first name is actually "Lo".

Beautiful.

Ooh. I just got some spam. Subject: "URGENT: I Costume".
People don't even try with spam anymore. Spam got weird on us while we weren't looking; took some bad acid or something.

I'm off - have a good <your time of day here>

So, that Chinese food...

Friday night. I used to like Friday nights. The whole weekend ahead of you. Now I'm only fond of Friday nights. This is mainly biased by the fact that have work tomorrow. It's hard to like any evening that precedes work. This is a feeling I think everyone learns about at the age of 7ish, and the dreaded concept of a "school-night". Though those words make for cool parody.

Cuisine in China so far hasn't been too taxing. Why, just the other day I had... well, there was McDonalds yesterday, KFC a few days ago, and today I ate...steak...

To be honest, this is driving me crazy - the guys I'm with are the dictators of not only my work, but essentially my biological intake. They decide what time and where I eat, and whether or not I'll get the chance to clean my teeth after breakfast, not to mention how long I'll sit waiting at the hotel restaurant table for everyone to finish, so we can pay the bill together and leave. I don't want to sit while they have 3 cigarettes - I want to go make the most of the small timespan I get to call an "evening".
What's more, with all the Chinese food I could be sampling and enjoying (or regurgitating, either way is an experience), my bosses aren't really partial to the stuff, and so we don't eat it. 90% of dinner is at the hotel, which has menus of Portuguese, Japanese, Italian, Malaysian/Indonesian, and even a grilled menu featuring American, and -yes- New Zealand beef...but precious little in authentic Chinese food. And then for lunch, well: I've had 11 lunches since I arrived; 3 McDonalds, 2 KFC, 3 Japanese, and 1 New Zealand sirloin (I HAD to, I can't even get that in Japan too easily). So just the 2 "Chinese" meals, and they were both "lunchbox takeaways" - not official restaurant stuff. I'd just go out and find something to eat myself, but where I am doesn't really give much in the way of escape routes so far. I will make it my quest later on to find a restaurant that serves me something that costs a buck, and makes me sick for a day. Bring it on.

This is, a tasty burger.

McDonalds in China isn't too bad - the fries are horrible, but the Big Macs are still Big Macs, and the Quarter Pounder actually has a chunky piece of meat (easy tiger), and some spicy sauce hidden inside. Check it out.





KFC, however, is just concerning.
The chicken's good (bar the obvious "Watch out! Bird Flu!" warning bells that ring in my head when I eat it). What got me, was the standard side was not fries (though you can ask for them), but PEAS. And not nice

One of these sides just doesn't belong.

fresh garden peas with melting butter, but slightly defrosted flaking peas in a sauce I can only assume is comprised of 2 parts peanut, 3 parts oil and 1 part vomit. MMM-mmm. Can't wait to get my ass back down to KFC for some o' those vomit peas. What do I look like, a friggin' baby bird?

What's more is, and maybe this is just my fault for not knowing the language, but I ordered what I thought was a standard chicken fillet burger. But oh no-sir! Lo and behold, when I sank my salivating canines into this mystery burger, I nearly retched. What, is this chicken mouldy? No, it's just mashed up and mixed with peas and carrots. It wasn't that bad by the time I finished it (the mayonnaise held it over), but certainly shock value there. Hey kids, let's eat a burger made of the kind of stuff we spoon-feed Grandpa!

Ahem. Waiter, there's crap in my burger.

Nah, I'd give up Maccas and the Colonel for good old Kiwi steak, and it's awesome to find it here. This is what I call a meal.

In other news (there's always "other news" with me), I decided to make use of my webcam (seeing as I can't use it for vidchat; the net here is far too slow). I figured I might try attaching a live pic of myself each time I post here. I hesitate to use the words "each time", because my habits change far too often to do anything by "routine". I mean, its a wonder I manage to leave my room at the same time every morning, wearing clothes and everything. Anyway, bon appetit.

PS. If I look tired, and you don't know why, go away. You're too stupid. You must be at least <----this----> smart to read my blog.