SEX AND THE CITY IS A MOVIE NOW!!!!

OH MY FUCKING GAWD!!! I MUST SEE THIS MOVIE NOW!!!!!

NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What Kind of Guy Will You Fall For?
	You would fall for the sensitive guy. You'll find your future man wherever turtlenecks are sold. He will have depth, introspection, and a disturbing knowledge of musical theatre. And he may be a little weird. But hey, while your girlfriends cry over broken hearts, you'll be having Shakespeare read to you every night.
Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com

Waiting for a student...

...who is has a chronic lateness problem. She is only 16 so I don't expect her to be standing in the lobby looking constipated like the older students, but trying to get here within five minutes of the class starting time would be nice.

4 days.

Only 4 days stand between me and my family. I am so excited. I can honestly say that I have never in my life been so excited about seeing my family. I wonder if this feeling will last through my entire trip or will it suddenly fall flat after being faced with my real family. They are all so perfect in my mind right now. Wonderful people. Totally perfect.

This might be bad.

Them not being perfect as I am imagining worries me. Actually everything about this trip worries and excites me. A lot. So much so that I am finding it more and more difficult to care about work. Now I am not being mean to kids or being rude to adults. My lack of caring is manifesting itself through my wardrobe. Any desire that I had diversify my wardrobe has died completely. I have this one shirt that I really like. I use to try to rotate it out so that it could be fresh and exciting but now I don't care. I wear that shirt 3 or 4 times a week now.

Yes. I wash it... Once a week.

I don't care anymore. No one seems to care about my clothes but me and as my trip home approaches the inadequacies of my wardrobe are becoming more and more apparent. I think that is resulting in my lack of caring. My wardrobe just isn't me anymore. And, more importantly, most of my stuff is ugly. I have two pairs of casual pants and I never really broke one pair in so I rarely wear them. I have worn the other pair to death. Those pants are like the Knight Badge of Courage... or Power or some other lame thing. I hate my clothes and since I am going back to America I can shop.

I CAN SHOP!!!

I'm going shopping. I am so happy. I am so excited. I am so worried. I am absolutely insane with expectancy.

Does that make sense? NO!

Sitting at my boss's desk

Why do I always get to work so early? My shift today doesn't start until 3:25 and my students don't arrive until 3:50, but, for some reason that I don't understand, I felt compelled to arrive at 2:30. I call it prep time, but it always just ends up being boring Knight time. It only takes me 35 minutes to prepare for all of my classes. Why do I do this to myself?

Even in my dreams I can't swim..

It is true. Last night I had a very interesting dream.

It started with me looking out across a frozen glacier. My older sister and two older guys were there. It is my dream so I assume I was in charge of the group. I took one look at the glacier and decided that we, actually just me, needed to get across the glacier immediately. I decided that the best way to do it would be to use a hover craft and so we did. We were almost immediately whizzing across the glacier in the hover craft.

Now I have absolutely no real world experience with hovercrafts so I guess that is why the inside of the hovercraft looked just like the inside of my dad's old boat. That boat was really old and rotten on the inside. On more than one occasion the motor would be ripped off the back of the boat by really rough waves. I guess that is why we stopped going fishing in the gulf. Once my dad and my uncle had to row the boat back inland after the motor fell off.

At any rate the hover craft looked just like my dad's boat until we got clear of the ice and then it changed into a regular boat. The glacier also changed. It became a large frozen canal. There were pieces of ice floating every where and for some reason large lion heads. They were all sculpted from ice. The were large and milky white with clear blue teeth. They were huge and all over the place. Some where stuck in large pieces of ice and others were floating freely in the water. After a while the ice disappeared from the canal and we were able to drive the boat quicker. That is when I saw another boat.

Actually there wasn't a boat. I could just see the wake from the "boat" as it drove past us. As it went by it splashed water on us and suddenly our boat became a large floating ceramic tub. Then we flipped. My sister and the guys fell out the tub, but I hung on for a long as I could. I didn't want to let go of it for fear of sinking so I had my arms and legs wrapped around the rim of the tub. I wiggled my feet to try to push the boat back into a level position but continued to sink and then I woke up.

I think I should learn to swim or something. That shit woke me up.

Sports

Since being in Japan I have been amazed on an almost daily basis by the sheer number of "sports" that people take seriously. There are literally thousands of sports, and, like most southern born Americans, I was raised to accept the big ones i.e. Football, Baseball, Soccer, Basketball, Track and Field, Tennis, and Wrestling. After straying a bit from my father's "expansive" world of sports I was able to start to appreciate most of the pool sports, Rugby, and kickboxing. I actually love kickboxing and would love to study it.

Japan seems to be in love with other sports though. I have respect for Track and Field, but I could never sit in front of my TV all day and watch a marathon. I have students who do this and report the results of the marathons to me. I smile and feign interest, but I honestly don't care. Marathons just seem to be long and boring and full of frighteningly thin people who never get tired. Sometimes they look like a more human version of that child-eating creature on Pan's Labyrinth.

The Japanese also seemed to like Ping Pong or Table Tennis or whatever the hell you want to call it. As a person who has actually played tennis I refuse to refer to it as table tennis unless I am being paid to do so. Ping Pong in my mind is so far from tennis that to even openly compare the two should be taken by all within earshot as an open attack on their lives.

What really amazes me is the fact that Ping Pong gets televised here. It is actually showing TV right now. The athletes look really serious too. Are they athletes?

Forrest Gump breathed a little bit of life into Ping Pong in America, but its been over ten years now. Ping Pong is stupid unless there is an Atari involved.

If I remember correctly Badminton was played in a Disney cartoon by a chicken and a duck. I think it was in Robin Hood. I could be wrong though. That one little episode is responsible for setting me against badminton. I could argue a case for badminton being a real sport, but the fact of the matter is that when I was in high school playing in gym class my classmates and I were playing badminton on the same level as the people on TV.

Why did I not get my 15 minutes of fame on ESPN?

I'll tell you why. Badminton is not a sport. It is a game. A GAME!!! Only good games like chess get on ESPN.

I am sure that every man and woman in the world will agree with me that volleyball is only interesting if it is played at a beach with the smallest and tightest swimsuits possible. "

One can not hope to win at volleyball until one is naked while being clothed."

~wise old pervert

Waiting to be fed to Children

I am in the midst of a gay breakdown!

I just realized that in just under two weeks I will go shopping for the first time in almost two years. All of the clothes that I have now are remnants of the me that was at university. I am not that person anymore. Thank God. I never really bought that "transitioning into adulthood" set of clothes.

Sure, I bought some suits, but that was more of a requirement and less of a sign of a changing mindset. My mind is changed now and I want my clothes to actually reflect the me that I am now. I want to retire my university t-shirts. I want to confine them to the small space that is my apartment and then eventually confine them to an even smaller space in the bottom of my drawer. Maybe nostalgia will one day make me take them out and take a wistful trip down memory lane. Hopefully necessity will never ever make me thrust my hands in the direction of my university t-shirts again.

But the point is that I don't know what to buy when I finally arrive in America. I know I like earth tones and hate anything that reminds me of the Easter Bunny. (pastels. ew!) I also know that I have zero desire to resemble a rapper. Timberlands are only cute on Tomo and thuggish guys. I am so not a thug. I am from the suburbs, people.

Is Tomo a thug?

Long story short, I need a stylist. I need a pro. Some oddly dressed chick who looks like she got dressed in the back of a dark closet but has an almost preternatural knowledge of what does and does not look good on me. Don't I deserve that? I've been good. I've been kind to old ladies even when they take my seat on the train or give me the evil eye even after I've gotten off the train. I've hugged trees. I've tried to rationalize with clearly insane children. I've even called them kawaii. I deserve a stylist. It's my right. Well not a right, but in the great game show call life it is my consolation prize. Yes, I lose at life sometimes.

Now were is my damn STYLIST!!!

Train Rant: Arms

My biceps are unbalanced. My right is definitely bigger and more defined, while my left is, this pains me so much, a gelatinous balloon of fat. It completely lacks definition. Now don't get me wrong my right arm is in no way prepared for the Mr. Universe competition, but when you compare it to my left arm you quickly realize that it could win an award for simply not sucking.

I think I should switch arms... for masturbating. That could help. That is the most basic arm exercise that a man can do. Their could be a problem with that though. If I switch arms there is a chance that only my forearm would benefit from that exercise.

Now I am not ashamed about masturbating. I just don't want to announce it to the world. That is what a swollen forearm means. To me at least. You can assume with 85% accuracy that the guy who's forearm is really huge uses that arm to masturbate. It is one of the great certainties of life. If you are still not sure have the guy squeeze something. His strong hand is his wanking hand.

It's true. Try it.

A "fun" Sunday

This has got to be one of the lamest days of my life. I spent the vast majority of the day in my apartment in a pair of sweat pants telling myself to not eat. Not eating is actually very easy seeing as how I have a pack of spaghetti sauce, one persimmon, and about two days worth of spaghetti noodles left.

No food. No eat. Very simple.

I probably mentioned this at some point in the past two weeks but I will say it again. I bought my ticket home for Christmas and effectively destroyed my budget for the month. I've been rationing food and money trying to make it to the day when the money my mom was supposed to send me would arrive.

As of now that money has yet to arrive. Apparently there was some type of mix up at the UPS office and the money was sent via USPS, and at this time of year the USPS is already stuffed to bursting with lame ass Christmas cards and shitty gifts. This happened with my Christmas gift last year. My mom sent me a gift and I didn't get it until the middle of January. It really made my Christmas sad. I think I may have gotten really depressed. It was my first Christmas away from my family and it just felt like they had forgotten about me. I knew they hadn't but I had a really hard time getting that thought out of my mind.

This time I'm not depressed. I am oscillating between frustration and extreme anger. I put off going back home for so long because of the strain it would put on my budget. Now it seems like I should have waited a wee bit longer.

At any rate my day was boring. I took a break from my thriftiness to walk over to the pet shop. I was planning on getting a Guinea Pig after Christmas, but after doing a few Internet searches and talking to one of my students I realized that guinea pigs are difficult to come by in Japan. So now I am looking at hamsters. Actually I have already decided. After Christmas probably within two or three days of getting back I'm gonna go and buy a hamster.

I haven't decided on a name for the hamster just yet. I was thinking of naming it Asashoryu if it is a boy and Koda Kumi if it is a girl.

I just made a joke. I admit it wasn't funny, but I tried and trying gets a chuckle or two, right? Right?

Anyway, at the pet shop today I just wanted to look at the hamster cages and try to gauge prices. I walked the 25 minutes to the pet shop and right before going in the door almost passed out. The pet shop is really crowded and I think hard to clean. It smells strongly of animal pee. The two people working in their must have like sniffed pure shit as children cause that is the only way that I can imagine anyone sitting in that stench for an extended period of time. At any rate I didn't go in. I wanted to, but the smell was just too much for my delicate composition. Maybe another day.

I actually wanted to check out their cages and look at the monkey. Yes, a monkey. The pet shop sales monkeys. MONKEYS!!!! I love monkeys. I don't think I could ever imagine having one as a pet, but looking at them is OK. I always thought it was illegal to sale them though. Oh well.

The pet shop isn't repulsive or particularly offensive I just didn't have the same motivation I had on Friday to go bouncing in happily to look at rodents. I will, however, have that motivation when I go to buy my hamster and cage.

quietly and then louder

My roommates cat just died. She says it has cancer. She is now starting to cry.

Not much. Kinda quietly, but I can hear her.

Am I bad for turning the music on my computer up?

My dog died while I was here, but I didn't announce it and start crying. I was pissed... but then again she isn't me. I should say something nice, and not send her a cat e-card that says, "Why aren't you here?"

That would be mean, but very funny.

hmm...

Just Some Pictures that I like

Yes. I am a turkey artiste. Respect me bitches!

These disembodied alien heads are apparently just stylish enough to sell hats... or give nightmares.

Personal Treasure

It has been almost two years since I moved to Japan. I've had my ups and my downs and lots of weird twists and turns. I've met lots of great people and a fair number of bastards. Real bastards. Not just people who get on your nerves. I've also done a bit of moving. A lot of moving actually. So far me address count includes three cities and at least 4 addresses. One of those addresses was actually in Peanuts name. So legally it wasn't mine, but I did get mail there so I'm gonna claim it on a technicality. Peanut can argue with me when he comes to visit.

Let's see... I've lived in Ogaki, Osaka, and Nagoya. I actually moved across town in Nagoya and that is how I got my forth address. I actually stayed very briefly (one week) in Okayama, but I don't think I should count that.

Anyway with all of this moving I have surprised myself by not actually losing anything. Most of the things that I have been thinking I lost, like the hat I am wearing right now, are just hiding in unopened suitcases. I just opened my big suitcase and found:

pictures
a video game (that I am going to sell in the morning)
some stinky Avon deodorant (thanks Mom)
a pair of misplaced yet still wearable shoes (I love you Skechers!!)
a money clip
a large pile of clean t-shirts
a dress shirt that is still in the plastic (talk about fresh)

All this moving has allowed me to create my very own personal treasure chest. I feel like I've gone and traversed the darkest oceans, beat down a horde of shinobi women, and seduced their "helpless" husbands. I feel wonderful.

Just call me A. Knight, Treasure Hunter (and Husband Seducer) extraordinaire!

Beaver

No. I am not searching the market for a vagina. I just found this amusing.