I'm not here. This isn't happening.

I have a third year elective class that I see once a week. It's made up of eight girls and one guy, and I get to try lessons that wouldn't fly with, say, thirty first years. This past week I split them into two groups and had them write a story in twenty-six sentences. The first sentence had to begin with A, the second one with B, and so on and so on. I did this myself back in the seventh grade, and our group's story involved Jack (of Jack and the Beanstalk fame) escaping the giant's grasps while golden toilet paper spindled from the roll.

On Wednesday, this was the sentence when we reached the letter K:
"Kevin is crazy."

This was followed by:
"Look at his hair!"

As a pair, the sentences are funny. Coupled with events that occurred just the previous week, well, you decide.

As a primer, here is some personal information about my grooming habits. Sometimes I shower at night and sometimes I shower in the morning. If I shower at night, I spend the next morning trying to flatten my Van de Graff-ed hair. If I shower in the morning, I spend the post-shower period trying to, umm, volumize? But on this one particular day a week before the A-B-C stories, I had clearly failed to flatten.

A co-teacher greeted me in the morning with a smile. She then made a "pointy" motion with both her hands and said, "Your hair!"

In first period, I tried to make small talk with a student who had shaved his head since last I saw him. He misunderstood my comments and thought I was talking about my own hair. He spoke Japanese to my co-teacher, who then looked at me and said, "He wants to know what happened to your hair." Now, let's pause to think about how insane I must have looked to these people in a country where this is normal. And now we continue. For the rest of the class, something was different. I may not understand Japanese, but I understand students 1) pointing at me, 2) waving their hands above their heads, 3) looking around at other students, 4) laughing, 5) trying to cover their laughter with the hands that were just above their heads.

I had a break in second period, so I went to the bathroom. After a few minutes of dousing my head with water, I remembered another thing about Japan. There are no paper towels/napkins here. So, like any normal human, I scurried to a place where I could hide while my hair dried without the aid of processed trees. The only place with privacy happened to be the copy machine room, so I stood around dripping wet pretending to copy the invisible papers in my hands. A few awkward minutes later, I was home free.

But gossip spreads.

In third period, two girls in the back of the room were play-fighting before the bell rang. This actually happens quite frequently, but I walked to the back to see what was going on. I regret doing that. The two girls were fighting over something in one of the girl's hands. She stopped as I got closer and presented the object to me with two hands. "Present!" she said, as a plastic headband appeared before my eyes. I wish I could make this stuff up.

So how did the A-B-C story end a week later?

Apparently I use "expensive conditioner," but it's all a lie because I'm bald and wear a wig. And how can you tell?

"Zoom in."

Don't go breakin' my heart

Just the other day, I noticed a student attempting to bend something back-and-forth between his fingers. On closer examination, he was trying to break the head off of a small keychain figurine. As his technique proved unsuccessful, a fellow classmate opened his pencil case to reveal an x-acto knife with a five-inch blade. This classmate then proceeded to saw the head off the toy. When he finished, he handed the decapitated body back to his friend who then gave it to me. "Present," he said.

I now possess the above pictured toy (which just happens to be a boy in a school uniform), and the gift-giver now has the boy's head dangling from his keychain. It's a lot like those BFF heart necklaces, only not at all.

Frankie Goes To Onsen

Lauren deemed Saturday the kick-off to "Relaxation Weekend," so who am I to argue? The day (afternoon) started with a DS party, which is a very social way to describe a very non-social activity. Lauren, Dave and I gathered in my cold-ish living room to play the recently-released Mario Party DS. Nerds can't wait two weeks for the English-language version, so nerds play the Japanese version without understanding the rules. It adds to the suspense and gives the all-ages AI an edge! In related news, it has come to my attention that my droll, sarcastic gameplay trash talk would have a place in non-existent, perfunctory pornography. As a result, I am now self-conscious when I utter gems such as "Do you like that?," "Do you like what I just did there?" and "Why am I on top? Oh, because I'm dominating." Since we partied all afternoon, we met some non-nerds for dinner at a Brazilian restaurant.

The great thing about the JET Program is that it attracts such a diverse group of people. Among the particular diners, someone or another could speak English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese and Portuguese. And when I travel with a group such as this, the nice waitress will look at me and ask if I speak Japanese. Gabe turned it around on her and asked if she spoke Portuguese. The response was something along the lines of "Beautiful!" And then the rules were explained.

1. Various meats will come to your table for a duration of 90 minutes.
2. There's rice, salad, soup, etc. at the bar area. Help yourself.
3. The price for hombres is 2000 yen. The price for mujeres is 1500 yen. Sexist? Probably. Care? Care not.

I put a stop to the delicious tried-and-true pairing of meat and rice so that I could save room for more meat. Each selection tasted as if it had revolved and marinated on skewers for half a day, which is likely exactly what happened. By the end, there was really no other option but to veg-out at an onsen.

The onsen was located on the fifth floor of Hotel Crest. Like many establishments in Japan, you cannot pay the nice ladies standing directly under the large CASHIER banner. Instead, you must put money into a nearby vending machine and then hand your ticket to the aforementioned non-cashiers. They'll ask if you have your own towel. At this point, I will yada yada over the details of what goes on inside the onsen because it's really just a bunch of naked men sitting in hot water. There are different temperature pools to appease your nuanced desires. There is also a sauna room where men watch women's volleyball on TV, and I went in mainly so I could use the line "It's like a sauna in here."

The next day, I told Lauren I used the Seinfeld quote in the sauna. "Which one? 'They're real and they're spectacular'?" No. Because that would've been weird.

Can I dress you up in my love?

This past Saturday was Morgan's third annual Halloween party in Kunado. This is my first Halloween in Japan, but I'll just trust that the event took place in the two preceding years. I picked up Lauren aka Marty McFly at her abode, then swung around to Ryuo station to get Dave the Devil and Charlotte the Cat. As strange as it may sound coming from a country where Cosplay is common, Halloween is not celebrated here. Thus, the costume selection at stores tends to revolve around various animals. That's not to say it isn't funny to see a herd of them standing around on a tatami mat. But back to the drive at hand.

After a bit of backtracking and possibly scaring a fellow driver by following him/her down a narrow side street at an awkward looking-for-a-place pace, we reached a crossroads. By crossroads, I mean Cha wanted to eat at McDonalds' while the rest of us wanted KFC, where we'd never gone before. Majority ruled, but the chicken did not. I put into question the availability of all 11 herbs and spices. But the biggest disappointment was the non-existence of mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits I am so accustomed to. KFC without gravy is like beer without alcohol. Why would you do that?

Now onto what my four and a half readers have been waiting for: the party points of interest.

1. A car pulled up while Dave and I were changing into our costumes up the street from Morgan's house. Fortunately, Dave had just enough Japanese prowess to explain why his pants were down and I had blood all over my arms.

2. People kept calling me Owen Wilson even though I went as Luke Wilson from The Royal Tenenbaums. They said it was tactless and too soon to be making wrist cutting jokes. But riddle me this. Why would the actor Owen Wilson dress up as a 70s tennis star wearing one sock?

3. Jake won the fictional best costume award by showing up as Quailman from Doug. I take some credit for supplying him with the BVDs that I originally bought with the intention of doing this.

4. Lauren carried a picture of Michael J. Fox the whole night to validate her costume. "Look, guys! I... I'm wearing his exact outfit from the movie! Guys?... Guys?" *Tumbleweed.*

5. Bex wore a costume called toilet paper man, but she really looked like the Noid. Remember the Noid? Avoid him!

6. The brim of the party cups were noticeably prominent. I made sure each person was aware of this.

After all the partying, I'm still left with one question. Did anyone know it was Nick's birthday?

Amy hit the atmosphere

A few weeks ago, Amy from college visited. She teaches English in Tokyo, and she was looking for an escape from the city lights. It reminded me a lot of Kurt Russell in Escape From New York, only I've never seen the movie and don't know what I'm talking about. We did go to a pub quiz in Otsuki.

Now here's the thing about trivia. People think I am good at trivia. Is it the glasses? The two years spent working in the music industry? I am not good at trivia. But I did own the one round devoted to identifying album covers by name and artist. Licensed To Ill? Why not? We finished in third place and took home an assortment of fireworks. (The "Russian Cracker" firework might be the first instance where removing "fire" makes something more dangerous.) I won a block puzzle which now rests on my kotatsu. I see it staying there for a while.

On the train back west, a large man lit a sparkler. People did not like this. When we exited the train, someone kicked her shoes onto the tracks. It was funny. It was funnier when she followed the train station attendant and repeatedly bowed to him as they walked. It's exactly what the Japanese would do, other than the whole kicking-the-shoes-onto-the-train-tracks -in-the-first-place part.

On Sunday we made mashed potatoes. We made them for both lunch and dinner, as per a craving conversation from the night before. I am currently compiling a list of things to do when I return to America. On a sublist of that list is restaurants or foods that I miss. It is a long sublist. When I return to America, I will eat fatty, delicious American food for several weeks. Who is with me?

I didn't think my cravings were too bad until I saw this online and actually wanted it. (Thank you, John Carroll, for that.) Not that I can't get McDonald's here. But I go at least once a week to treat myself. And I know what you're thinking. But no, it's not what you're thinking. It's not amazing sushi for every meal. It's not geisha serving me green tea ice cream. It's corn and mayonnaise... pizza.

A low-quality video is worth 30 pictures a second.

Nirasaki School Festival this past weekend. Proper write-up should appear tomorrow. Here are two teaser trailers:




He's so intent on wiggling the arms!




There's just enough cowbell.

I already used that festivus quote.

An Irish guy in a samurai suit? It's a little too Heroes (season two, chapter I) for my taste. So blame Dave for being a walking, Japan-flag wielding NBC cliche. And it doesn't take a Japanese history major to notice that his hat is totally pre-Shingen. Wee-ooo, wee-ooo, wee-ooo. Here comes the anachronism police!

Sunday in Nirasaki, muskets were fired. How else do you celebrate the homecoming of Takeda Shingen's son? The musket men (musketeers?) were surrounded by a few policemen standing in a rectangle with rope stretched taut around their behinds. They moved as the procession processed. A dog yelped after each shot. (Speaking of dogs, Lauren mentioned never seeing a mutt in the two months we've been in Japan. I'd agree. Either there are some serious breeding/spading/neutering requirements in this country or Bob Barker is a god here. Neither would surprise me.)

Some highlights:

An old man cut me in the snowcone line to buy snowcones for his grandchildren. Ethicist, what say you?

Seth bought a frozen, chocolate-covered banana only to discover the banana was room-temperature and the chocolate was some sort of waxy, choco-substitute. I'd buy him four more just to hear him complain.

Even at festivals where people are constantly buying crap, there's still no trash cans! Double you tee eff.

Lauren bought a crepe the size and shape of the Olympic torch. The "fire" was whipped cream! Remember Whatizit aka Izzy? Double you izit!

The largest spider I've ever seen (outside of a zoo) was spinning a web between trees that were about six feet apart. I do not have a picture of this. I will never have a picture of this. I cannot sleep because of this.