My Futon is Yellow

When I bought my futon last year it was green. Now it is yellow and dingy and smells like my man parts. Yes I smell my futon. Don't you. I think one year is considered a long life for something that is just a glorified body pillow. My comforter has also turned yellow. My futon and comforter matched when I first got them. They still match now.

Sun-bleached, sweat stained yellow


I remember when I first bought the futon and comforter. I got naked and rubbed my body all over them. You see I had spent the previous month sleeping on a pile of clothes... on the floor. I would put on my jacket and wear sweat pants because I would get cold at night. I balled up one of my coats and used it as a pillow at night. So when I got my futon and comforter I was so happy. They were so soft and smelled so good and just made me feel warm and fuzzy. The first night I slept on them was wonderful. I have only slept that well at a few other points in my life.

long story short. I think it is time to buy a new futon. Something swank and cool. Something with a large He-Man logo on it. None of that Doraemon evilness for me.

Knight Rant

Today is my sisters birthday. She is 29 now. She is intensely afraid of becoming 30. She thinks she will be old then. 30 isn't old, right? Legend has it, as I get older I place more faith in this, that 30 is the new 20. I'm 25 now and I recall how I looked at 20... I think I would prefer my 30 to be the new 16. I think that with the body I had then I could be fierce. (Gay word of the day!!!)

The guy at the convenience store next door has callouses across the palms of his hands. I touched them while he was handing me back my change. He shaved today. I think he likes me. He always runs to take my money. It doesn't matter how many people are already working on the counter. If he sees me he comes running. He has long hair. He is kind of cute. He is definitely older than me. I wonder how he got those callouses.

It is very easy to see that we evolved from apes when you look at Japanese people sit.

I envy my neighbors, Jam and Rag. (Of course those are not their real names!) They have been together for about 5 years now. That isn't what I envy though. I envy the way that they, especially Jam, are able to just say, without any hesitation what so ever, that they're gay. Like in a conversation Jam will explain his stance on something by saying that it is because he is gay. I think it is a poor argument, but still one that I would like to be able to make...

They are both older than me; about 28 I think. When I reach that age I hope I'll be able to easily say that I'm gay... Actually I don't. Big declarative statements like that are not really my style (even if they are cool.) I'm more inclined to let people know I'm gay by whispering to them about the sexiness of the guy with the smooth skin and the nice ass.

I hate MOHELA. BITCHES!!!

I have not seen my boyfriend in three or four weeks. I no longer think of myself as a needy bitch. I am allowed to demand an audience with him. I'm actually starting to not feel close to him anymore.

Is he trying to shut me out? This is what Robert did before we broke up....

An Awkward Moment

My roommate is currently in her room sobbing.
Yes. Sobbing.

She came home about fifteen minutes ago looking all glassy eyed and a wee bit defeated. She said she was gonna go hide in her room and cry for a bit and so she did.

She is. Now. Loudly with some horrible rock music playing. (she is so cliche at times.) I don't know if I should go knock on her door or not. Loud crying in my book is clearly a cry for help, but then again my roommate is a bit of a drama queen. I am a kind person and normally don't mind listening to her overly dramatized stories. Lately, she has been getting on my nerves a little with all this emotional crisis stuff. We work together on Thursdays and she is always complaining about her schedule. She doesn't like to 1-on-1 lessons. She thinks they are too difficult. She also doesn't like for any part of her schedule to change without her getting notice.

I got pissed last week and told her to stop complaining. We all have the same problems. It was actually more of a snap than a simple telling.

Oh shit she is teetering into my room and she is full of water.

the secret to surviving an exceptionally long time in a horror movie is to be as crazy if not crazier than the villain

Rules of Knight: Vol. 1

1. If your shorts fail to pass a certain point on your thigh you lose the right to speak. This rule goes for women and men. Along with your right to speak you also lose the right to make any kind of visual protest. Such is the penalty for taking on the form of a whore. I will stare at you and if you say a damn thing I will point at your partially exposed ass or your one-weight-shift-away-from-being-exposed penis and then slap you in the mouth to make you shut up.

2. Feel free to stare at the big black man. He has accepted that he is an anomaly in your everyday life, but the moment you say "Billy," "Bobby," "sugoi," or simply scream you place yourself in the hands of said big black man.

3. Do not offer a gay man a "massage-ee" at 4:45 in the morning. Actually do not off a "massage-ee" to any man after 3. Especially if you are clearly not able to handle a proper dicking.

Where are the Britney Spears fans of years past? Have they grown up? Have they suddenly realized the true lack of singing ability of their Red-Necked Deity? Have they, dare I say it, become Beyonce fans?

I say, "YES, DAMMIT!"

I have been reading about this Britney Spears VMA fiasco on countless blogs and news sites. I've heard that it is so legendarily un-Britney that people have begun to doubt that she will ever rise to her leathery red goodness of 2000. (If you're curious I'm referring to the only Britney video that I learned the moves to: "Oops, I did it Again.") She will never again make us beg for more of her nasally abuse like she did in 2002. ("Slave") This performance is soooo bad, but I can't find the damn thing anywhere.

The Beyonce fans and haters would and have ripped YouTube apart to put virtually every breath of the woman on the Internet. Can the Britney fans not do the same?

Or will they not do the same?

Perhaps those surviving few have decided that she can not be seen in this condition. They have buried her work and I feel that very soon they will bury her. Like any "great" pop figure her fans only want what is good about her to carry on. Her "sexiness", her "strong and beautiful" NASALLY voice, her *snicker* song writing ability, and lets not forget her ability to follow choreography.

Good Bye Britney Spears. I will miss you... and "not" have a party.

I just realized that I am a needy bitch. Tomo hasn't talked to me that much in like 2 days and of course i jumped to the worst conclusion and started to panic and then felt a little depressed. Then I started wondering what I had done.

It was a horrible 20 minutes.

He just sent me and e-mail saying that he is almost finished packing. He has been helping his parents move out of their house and into an apartment.He has been actually busy and I've been all "gimme gimme gimme attention" over here.

I'm crazy. LOL

Sunday: 4 liters of shochu on my counter

There are 4 liters of shochu on my counter. Jun and one of his friends brought it over and gave to me. I think it was some kinda peace offering. I kinda got drunk and told Jun to not touch me anymore. About ten minutes later he stormed out of my apartment refusing to talk to me. I then sent him an email saying bring my DS back. Then he threatened to remove my phone number from his phone book, and I said, "Whatever!"

Something decidedly more evil than me had snuck into my apartment and bit my pinky and index fingers. Like both on the second joint. I think this might be the work of some Japanese obeah, but since I am American and not afraid of wet long haired girls it all just comes off as light skin irritations.

I have decided to not see Tomo this weekend. We usually meet on Friday and Sunday, but he canceled on Friday cause he had to clean up parts of his house. He is moving out of it with his parents to a new apartment. In protest I ended up drinking 2 bottles of wine and 3 beers. Yeah I was fucked up. My roommate thought I was gonna die. Today I canceled on him because I have not cleaned my apartment all weekend and with my roommate never helping with that endeavor I just don't see how it will ever happen. I won't be drinking today. Well not much. Jun is gonna come back over and try to make choke down some more shochu. The "no touching" rule will still be in effect though. So he will have to force with his cheers and jeers from across the room.

Work Work Watching!!!

KAWAII!!!

Remembering Latoya

Today, actually yesterday, I was watching an episode of Boston Public. That show was truly doomed the moment it went into production. Each episode was about some new social issue that might take place in the school. In this episode they covered terrorism, racial profiling, sex education, AIDS and teen girls, and bad parents of gay children. That was only one episode. The show was destined to simply implode upon itself. It was great, but just ran through the list of social issues much too quickly.

I used to love this show and the episode that I saw made me remember a very important moment in my life. The day that I learned about AIDS. I was maybe 11 or 12 and up until that point had never been given any formal information on AIDS or how it was contracted. I sure as hell didn't know that there was any connection between AIDS and the HIV (pronounced in my young mind like "give") virus. I came across my knowledge of the virus on a church trip. I also fondled a girls breast and was all but invited to drill a hole in her vagina. Naturally, my fear of pussy saved me from that experience. It failed me later.

On this church trip all of the kids were ushered in small groups into about three rooms to listen to different special speakers. There was the prison room complete with inmates, the drug room complete with gun toting cops, and the AIDS room complete with a soon to be dead woman. That is very insensitive of me, but I have found myself wondering lately, "Is she still alive?"

I think her name was Latoya, and while she was nothing wonderful to look at she was by no means ugly. I think you could call her cute. She had graham cracker colored skin, big kinda slanted eyes, and good teeth. I think her hair was done nicely and she wore clothes. I can't remember much about them accept that they didn't really flatter her figure.

She told us within minutes of sitting down that she had AIDS. She told us with a great bit of energy about how she got it, but then became very solemn when she admitted that yeah she would die eventually. I think she even said within the next five years or less. Something like that. She seemed positive but only in light spurts. She made AIDS scary.

This entry isn't really about AIDS it is about Latoya. I wonder where she is. How she is. If she is... you know....

I am...

...officially one of them. An Axe. In my search to find a fragrance that can handle my manly american musk with force, yet not drive people away in coughing fits I have until now been unsuccessful. Japan just doesn't believe people stink. Well not in a stinky way.

As I've mentioned before, these people do not sweat. They glisten. My boyfriend has helped me prove my theory. I walked him with him in the middle of the day once. The temperature was very high and the the humidity level was high as always. I immediately started to sweat bullets and then rivers. His skin started to produce this sheen that made it look like he had just been rubbed down with baby oil and then he started to sparkle. He never sweated. He shined. He sparkled. He glistened. He smelled good. After getting back inside and stopping the flow of the river going down my back I realized that I had an odor. He didn't. Well he actually spelled lightly of salt water.

THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE JAPANESE!!!

...but the world is already aware of that truth. So I decided to try to cheap odor alternatives here. Aerosol deodorant. Yes, that environmentally safe solution to funk. I tried the Japanese offerings (Gatsby, Shiseido, and some company that after one spray I threw in the trash.) and immediately found them all lacking. They make zero attempt to stop sweating, and since I smelled of something more rotten than sea water there odor blocking abilities only lasted as long as the next time I stepped outside.

There is hope though. Axe is becoming popular here. America is looking out for me. I had seen the commercials for Axe in America before I left and had just figured it all to be hype. No spray is gonna make a woman drape herself around you and scream for instant penetration. (I'd sue that nasty bitch anyway.) I was right. I have yet to feel feminine weight, but, more importantly, I smell good. GOOD DAMMIT!!! No embarassing funk that forces me to do a penguin walk to the bathroom. (Yes, I have washed my armpits between classes. I refuse to stink dammit.)

I am offocially an Axe. I love them. My man loves it too. I think the Axe effect works on him too. That is a different story though.