<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:19:37.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fUNKy+BLegUg=LifeInJapan</title><subtitle type='html'>My funky and blegug trivial events in the mysterious land</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>86</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115820951251792459</id><published>2006-09-13T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T21:00:17.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truck Lover</title><content type='html'>Heeeey my cute little loyal readers out there, who has nothing better to do than reading my craps. How are you doing sweeties ? Yes, Im talking to you. Sorry y'all for the long silence. I hope you are all doing okay as i am now. I know that Im so far behind in updating my blog. Lots of things have happened but I can *proudly* announce you that at this right moment I'm still a broke-ass, single, extremely sexually frustated except that I'm one year older. Fuck! OH, but im not homeless anymore. But I am all happy and deeply grateful for every single breath. That's my friends, why im writing this to you instead of freaking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, enough with the gay tone, and now you can clean up that puke in your mouth that i just caused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my coworkers at the corner store. I love working there. It is tiring, but people there are very kind and i have fun. They know how to entertain me, by entertaining i also mean biting my own tounge. So you know in Japan, renting a moving truck is a common way when you move to other city. They know that i will move to tokyo in sept when i get back to Japan, so they think that i probably have to pack now before i leave for Indonesia. Here is one of the MANY identical conversations i had with the dorks:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I want to help you move. When does the truck come?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, thank you, I'd really apprecia... wait, what truck?"&lt;br /&gt;"The truck to move your boxes to bali."&lt;br /&gt;"I will just ship my things through the post office, and Im  just going on a vacation to bali. I will be moving to tokyo in sept"&lt;br /&gt;"Ok..... so when will the truck come?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not using a truck. I don't have that much boxes, and the trucks dont go to Bali. Actually, I dont have much things left to pack, only my suitcase for my trip to bali for now on. But you can still keep me company. It'll be nice"&lt;br /&gt;"Okay. When?"&lt;br /&gt;"How about next next Tuesday? Is that good for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Is that when the truck is coming?"&lt;br /&gt;"THERE IS NO GODDAMN FUCKIN TRUCK!!!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"But, when will you send your nimotsu??"&lt;br /&gt;"You mean to tokyo? In sept. Actually, everything is at my friend's house. Packed and ready to pick up. I'll just send them trough the post office"&lt;br /&gt;"So is there a truck?" &lt;br /&gt;"No! Ok, i know you love trucks and i wont judge you if u want to make love with a truck. Go on. But I'm sorry im not going to use a truck. I will just ship my boxes through the post office in sept when i get back to Japan"&lt;br /&gt;"How will you ship your bed to bali? When is the truck coming?"&lt;br /&gt;"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THERE IS NO GODDAMN FUCKIN TRUCK, AND IM NOT MOVING TO BALI. TOKYO, FUCK! TOKYO!!! IN SEPTEMBER!!!!!!" &lt;br /&gt;"Will the truck come on Wed morning ?!"&lt;br /&gt;*(shooting myself in the head)*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115820951251792459?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115820951251792459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115820951251792459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/09/truck-lover.html' title='Truck Lover'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115312345751326668</id><published>2006-07-17T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T01:11:39.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angrybot</title><content type='html'>Yesterday started off rough. Very rough. I was just plain angry. Pissed. Peeved. Fucking belligerent, even. Angry at myself, job, people, Japanese bureaucracy, not to mention the rain, my lab, shiny things, and small dogs. Pretty much just pissed at the whole world. I didn't even feel like myself. I felt like Angrybot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was angry enough that when the lady at the clinic told me I needed my health insurance certificate (i mean, cant u just go through the files to get my record????), and that I had to drive back home to get it,  I let out a resounding "mother fuck" as I walked out the door. I have no idea where that came from, seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so did i tell y'all about this bitch at the store who always give me a dirty bitchy look and completely ignore me when i try to talk to her ? I have no idea what her problem is. Anyway, seriously people, it's not a good time to fuck with me when im in a bad state like yesterday. So yesterday, I, again, tried to say &lt;em&gt;otsukaresamadeshita&lt;/em&gt; (have a nice evening, im going home) to her, but the best she can do was giving me a dirty look and completely ignored me, just like the other days. I dont know how i got into the next scene, but i suddenly went to her and told her off right in her face "I swear to God, if you dont stop giving me that look on that ass you call a face, im going to punch you right in it." I mean, It's been 4 months now. Im not a stupid pushover that you can treat like shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, so being angry as I was, I knew I needed to exercise. So i decided to go swimming.And afterwards I was like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new man. I felt 100% different. My anger was gone and a certain euphoria was over me. I almost felt as if I was on Prozac or something. My thought last night was "I feel like god damn Whinny the Pooh in a honey factory or something".  I know I know, it is all those endorphins pumping through me. But this is the first time in my life where I could feel a physical change, you know? And THAT made me realize that this is probably the reason I haven't been totally myself lately. I haven't been 'up'. Yes sure, I might be depressed or stressed these days or anything, but I also haven't been functioning at 100%.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115312345751326668?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115312345751326668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115312345751326668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/angrybot_17.html' title='Angrybot'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115267270837096222</id><published>2006-07-11T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T03:32:43.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(Don't know what to say)</title><content type='html'>I didnt know what to put on the title above. Cause i just dont know. You may find out below. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overheard below conversation in the bus today between A-&lt;em&gt;san&lt;/em&gt;, a foreign student, and B-&lt;em&gt;san&lt;/em&gt;, a japanese student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I had to walk today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Why did you walk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Actually my bike was stolen, so I have to walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: STOLEN? WHERE? WHAT HAPPENED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: (Blah, blah, blah...details you don't want to hear...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Thats horrible. Its really too bad. Did you lock your bike?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: No, the bike wasn't worth the cost of a good lock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Ahhhhhh....soooooooooo. That's horrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Oh well, not a damn thing I can do about it, eh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Well, I am really sorry to hear that. I feel personally responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Oh, don't worry about it. It's not as though you stole it, did you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Well...Im sure it wasnt a Japanese person! I hope it wasn't, at least. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Ummmmmm...I dont know how you are so sure about it. Japanese people commit crimes too, you know. Dont you read news on TV ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B: Oh I suppose you're right, but I still hope it wasnt a Japanese person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strange conversation, that. It's as though the Japanese person, knowing that the foreigner's bike was stolen by another Japanese person, feel personally responsible. To alleviate this guilt, he told him that 'maybe it wasn't a Japanese person'. I don't suppose he thinks about the fact that he is not Japanese, and therefore blaming foreigners might seem a little offensive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh some people of this country never ceases to amaze ... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am turning into my grave, and im not freaking dead yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115267270837096222?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267270837096222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267270837096222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/dont-know-what-to-say.html' title='(Don&apos;t know what to say)'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115267055108836256</id><published>2006-07-11T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:15:51.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disturbing Conversations Among Disturbing People</title><content type='html'>People are fucked up out there. Read the following news on yahoo. While the bulk of the article is rather unsettling, its all worth while when you read the last sentence. Read on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - Dutch pedophiles are launching a political party to push for a cut in the legal age for sexual relations to 12 from 16 and the legalization of child pornography and sex with animals, sparking widespread outrage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Charity, Freedom and Diversity (NVD) party said on its Web site it would be officially registered Wednesday, proclaiming: "We are going to shake the Hague awake!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The party said it wanted to cut the legal age for sexual relations to 12 and eventually scrap the limit altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The party wants private possession of child pornography to be allowed although it supports the ban on the trade of such materials. It also supports allowing pornography to be broadcast on daytime television, with only violent pornography limited to the late evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toddlers should be given sex education and youths aged 16 and up should be allowed to appear in pornographic films and prostitute themselves. Sex with animals should be allowed although abuse of animals should remain illegal, the NVD said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The party also said everybody should be allowed to go naked in public and promotes legalizing all soft and hard drugs and &lt;strong&gt;free train travel for all&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love how their platform is basically legalize child pornography, under-age prostitution, sex with animals, legalization of public nudity and...free train travel for all? Where the hell did they get that last one. I wish I could have been there for their platform meeting, I'm sure it would have gone something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pervert Rapist A (Willbur): &lt;/strong&gt;I want to have sex with children and parakeets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pervert Rapist B (Sceeter):&lt;/strong&gt; Me too! Let's form a political party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Willbur&lt;/strong&gt;: Great idea. We'll legalize drugs, pedophilia, public nudity and...what else? I know we're missing something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sceeter&lt;/strong&gt;: What is it? Sex with old people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Willbur&lt;/strong&gt;: No no, we can already do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sceeter&lt;/strong&gt;: Sex with dead people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Willbur&lt;/strong&gt;: No, Sceeter! What are you, a pervert or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sceeter&lt;/strong&gt;: Shit, I got it! Free train rides!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Willbur&lt;/strong&gt;: That's it! Free train rides! God, you are some kinda wonderful Sceeter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115267055108836256?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267055108836256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267055108836256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/disturbing-conversations-among.html' title='Disturbing Conversations Among Disturbing People'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115267028232500935</id><published>2006-07-11T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T00:26:00.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Thing Ever</title><content type='html'>Sweet mother of poop. On sunday, when my co-worker (the girl i mentioned on earlier post) discovered that i will be gone for a month in august, she .... erupted. It was the longest "EEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH" I've ever heard in my life. She then hold my hand, shaked my shoulder and bombarded me with her pseudo-compliments : "Please come back. No, promise me you will be back! You can't leave. It will be so boring without you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if i am supposed to be scared or touched and flattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My, what a life I lead here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Period&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115267028232500935?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267028232500935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115267028232500935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/cutest-thing-ever.html' title='Cutest Thing Ever'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115217074355221143</id><published>2006-07-06T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T18:56:38.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Japan ... underwear-obsessive-perverts island</title><content type='html'>For those of you who live in Japan, you may agree with me that Japanese people in general dont hesitate to ask some personal questions to people they just met. Like, "Do you have a gf/bf? What's your type?" or "How much do you make a month?!" I know its considered to be rude in the west society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, i experienced a total new awkward-situation when i was having my hair cut and being asked by the hairdresser dude "What kind of underwear do you wear? How much they cost?"&lt;br /&gt;I shit you not, thats what he asked me, a stranger he just met for 15 minutes. I know that it's shamefully well-known by foreigners that Japanese men are panty-loving-perverts of the planet, but i have no idea if it's that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my loyal readers who dont live in this island, this is exactly the shit i was talking about. The "joy" you may not get from living in other countries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115217074355221143?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115217074355221143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115217074355221143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/japan-underwear-obsessive-perverts.html' title='Japan ... underwear-obsessive-perverts island'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-115206037128294765</id><published>2006-07-04T17:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T13:01:05.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Superman Returns ...... from plastic surgery</title><content type='html'>This why i love my &lt;em&gt;baito &lt;/em&gt;place. People there always know how to make my day with their ... well, stupid but amusing jokes. There's this girl who has been constantly praising me on every single basic-human-function things i do. Like for example, she told me how she likes tall guy like me, the 170cm midget,  just because i helped her turn off the switch that she couldnt reach. For fuck's sake, its only like 2.5 meter. I mean ... even my dog can jump and reach it! One day, she walked in while i was changing and caught me being topless. She then asked if im doing any sport cause i got some muscle and shit. She then touched my torso and tried to squeeze my chest and shoulder. Pretty insulting for a walking-skeleteon like me, i must say. It's like telling Marta Kauffman "You look so in shape. What's your secret ?!" And dont get me wrong here. It sounds like she is making a pass on me, but actually she is not. BELIEVE ME. Although she keeps asking if i have a gf and what kind of girls i like. But everyone does that in Japan. &lt;br /&gt;There are other examples, and just when i thought she cant go any more crazy, today she told me the best joke i've ever heard. By joke, i mean horror. So, we have this new superman movie's poster at the store and she, thefuckedupinthehead lady, told me that i look like that dude (Superman) if i dont wear my glasses. I shit you not, and two other dumbasses agreed with her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, time to leave this crazy people .... maybe, forever. Before i turn to be like one of them and start to think that Koizumi actually does look like Richard Gere !!&lt;br /&gt;I mean, HELLLOOOO people, am i the only guy with normal eyes in this country ?! With that hair, the dude looks more like Queen Elizabeth and Mozart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only in this country. I swear to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On completely different topic, i have been offered to be a speedo model on one of those magazines for boys in Japan. Ok, dont raise your eyebrows now, cause you know Japanese magazines .... anyone can be on it. No matter how awful you look and how skinny you are. Dont believe in me ? Go to &lt;em&gt;konbini&lt;/em&gt; now and prove me right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, what the mother of crap is up with this weather ?!?! So, its raining and you decide to bring umbrella, but bang, it stops raining. Then when the sky is clear and you are riding your bicycle, suddenly it rains oh heavily like crazy. Damn, i look like a stupid little wet puppy now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-115206037128294765?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115206037128294765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/115206037128294765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/07/superman-returns-from-plastic-surgery.html' title='Superman Returns ...... from plastic surgery'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114983310654411112</id><published>2006-06-08T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T01:49:41.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slurred days ahead</title><content type='html'>Being poor sucks. It really does. How can I survive with ichiman yen (around 900 bucks) till july 5th. Three words. I need Jesus. The dude seems to be always busy though when it comes to my problem. &lt;br /&gt;Speaking of money, i met probably the most polite chikan (pervert) ever quite some time ago. So i was just standing on the street watching at random people, waiting for my friend after work to hang out. There came an old pervert to me  saying, if it was in English probably around this line: "Hi. I have 10,000 yen for you here if you are willing to kindly let me see and touch your dick. Just a little bit". I shit you not. Thats what he asked me. Not that i will let anyone molest me for money or anything, but are you fucking kidding me ?! I worth 10,000 yen ONLY ? Jesus, you gotta make it at least 50,000 yen to get into my pants. Wankers!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114983310654411112?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114983310654411112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114983310654411112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/06/slurred-days-ahead.html' title='Slurred days ahead'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114956798747695860</id><published>2006-06-05T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T20:22:03.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What day is it ?!</title><content type='html'>SATAN DAY !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right baby, today is the big day. 06/06/06! 666 Day! Satan! Woo-hoo! It's that time of year when we dust off our party hats, dress up in tight red spandex singlets and incinerate stacks of King James bibles. Sure it isn't quite as fun as Christmas, but it sure as hell beats that &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; holiday. What's that one called again? You know, the one where a giant bunny secretly comes to hide eggs around the house? Oh yeah, &lt;em&gt;Easter&lt;/em&gt;. On balance worshipping Satan is obviously cooler than celebrating &lt;em&gt;Easter&lt;/em&gt;,a holiday clearly invented by a group of hippies on a bad acid trip. Obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do any of you have any plans for the big 666? None yet, huh? Well don't worry, your cute friend, me, is here to help. I offer up the following ideas for today's festivities. Feel free to pick and choose from the list. Remember, it's all about making 06/06/06 a special day for you and those you don't love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why not surprise that &lt;em&gt;special&lt;/em&gt; someone with a box of industrial strength pesticide? Although Satan would prefer said pesticide to be used to kill people, he understands if you and/or your enemies experience some reticence. However, killing plants and trees is a close second to killing actual people. So go wild, child!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have unprotected sex. Satan loves it when you have a good go, unprotected lke.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Spite your neighbor. Perhaps pee in their mailbox in the middle of the night. Or if you have access to their apartment, hide a fish in an unlikely place. In three weeks you will be laughing right along-side Satan as your neighbors desperately try to discover where the 'dying' smell is coming from.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Start and end every sentence with the words 'god damn' or 'god damn it'. Satan rejoices when you make fun of the 'eternal party-pooper'.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Spend every Sunday/Friday of this month shopping for pornography instead of attending church/mosque (Satan prefers lesbian porn, if you are thinking of buying omiyage).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't eat corn. 'Cause Satan don't like the corn. I shit you not.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;And if you currently live in Japan, you need not do anything special to please Satan on his big day. Your presence in this god-less, Louis Vuitton-worshipping country is more than enough to satisfy the dude &lt;em&gt;down there&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's all from me, folks! Hope you have an angry, hate-filled day today. I know I sure will! Cause im planning to kill my supervisor today. I swear to God, Allah, Mohammed, Jesus, Buddha and Kim Jong Il.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114956798747695860?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114956798747695860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114956798747695860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/06/what-day-is-it.html' title='What day is it ?!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114741760100580239</id><published>2006-05-11T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T22:56:29.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a dog</title><content type='html'>That's right, a dog. A canine. A mut. A pooch. A bitch. A leg-humper. A toilet-bowl drinker. And you know what? I blame it all on people here. Somehow this country is turning me into a fucking dog. Of course I'm not a dog all the time. No, only around 37% of the time I'd say. Maybe 38%, I forgot how to round up and down. Anyways, to prove my point I offer up some bullet dealies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;UL&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;When I don't understand something, which happens on a daily basis, I use my energy and general lovability to pull through. Dogs don't understand fuck all half the time, but we love them because they are generally entertaining. Like me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I've become a master of reading situations and people. When you lose one of your senses, the others usually kick-in and compensate. (Did you know that blind people in New York can actually hear butterflies banging-it-out in Madagascar? What, you don't think the internet would lie, do you? Anyways, as I often lose the ability to understand (and thus truly 'hear') whats going on around me, I am forced to rely on my other senses. By simply 'watching' a person (body language, small facial expressions, general 'presence') I can probably tell you, at least in general, how they are doing. Dogs read their masters. I read people. Bow wow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;If you don't watch me closely enough I am likely to drink your beer, eat your food  and/or pee on your precious tatami. You have been warned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I'll eat anything and everything you put in front of me,even if it might kill me (raw chicken, anyone?). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;When I talk to my friends,only a select few can understand what I'm trying to say. To the rest of the maggots I probably sound like I'm saying "Woof. Wooooooooof. WOOOOOOOOOOOF. WOOFWOOFWOOF. Woof. Okay?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I can't focus on anything for more than four seconds. Unless you give me a treat, in which case it's ten. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I often do weird things that no one around me understands (e.g. leave work when I'm supposed to, sing when im in shower, slobber etc). Sure, other dogs (mostly are foreigners) would understand, but Japanese people? Yeah, they got nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I'm praised for simple things, such as being able to reach the switch button that is only 3 meters high, or being able to eat with knife and fork. Sit, Booboo, sit! Good dog.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;I'm getting hairy. My arms and legs start to grow more hair now&lt;/LI&gt;&lt;/UL&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114741760100580239?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114741760100580239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114741760100580239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-am-dog.html' title='I am a dog'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114731291466503721</id><published>2006-05-10T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T00:11:04.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mishima Akio ?!?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www02.so-net.ne.jp/~hedonism/MIDI/images/mishima_s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www02.so-net.ne.jp/~hedonism/MIDI/images/mishima_s.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strange thing happened this morning. My &lt;em&gt;sensei&lt;/em&gt; said that i look like &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yukio_Mishima"&gt;Mishima Yukio&lt;/a&gt;, when he was young. He then showed me said dude's pic as seen above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What??? Please, for the sake of all human beings, tell me you are kidding, yes??. He's fucked in the head. And for your record, he sometimes like to sit and stare at the wall. Scary. (yoga? meditation? only Lord knows). What gives ??? Oh, my dear sensei. 治療受けたほうがええで．頭どうかしとるっちゅうねん.(dude ... seriously, you need a medical treatment)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114731291466503721?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114731291466503721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114731291466503721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/05/mishima-akio.html' title='Mishima Akio ?!?!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114602020835115336</id><published>2006-04-25T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T21:09:23.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning riot</title><content type='html'>Well hello there! How are you today? I'm doing fine (thanks for asking!). But I have a bee with Japanese guys. Specifically, Japanese guys who forgot that most traditional and social of morning activities (no, not sex... I just feel sorry for those folk)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;" size="60"&gt;SHOWERING!! &lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I'm not an unreasonable man, really, I'm not. But riding the bus for just FIVE minutes this morning, packed to the brim with students, had me ready to play a game of show-and-tell with my breakfast. This country need to have hygiene rules at the office. When i finally escaped from the bus, there another ones of them with me in the elevator. I was so irritated that i just wanted to shout at them "Goddamn it if you cant take shower in the morning, for the love of God at least change your goddamn clothes and use deodorant!!!" If you still cant be bothered, just please dont get in the same bus and elevator with me. I mean it, dude. For your own fuck sake. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all know that Japan are probably the most gay country because Japanese boys are so obsessed with their look. They even sell cosmetics for men here. So, I just don't get how a culture filled with men so obsessed about appearances can also be filled with dudes who reek to high hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What gives?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114602020835115336?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114602020835115336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114602020835115336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/morning-riot.html' title='Morning riot'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114585850624336280</id><published>2006-04-23T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T15:39:47.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FREEDOM</title><content type='html'>What I learned at a documentary show about USA yesterday on BS2 channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans fear public speaking more than they fear death. It's written. It's a fact. Americans top five fears are public speaking, death, spiders, heights, and clowns. Oh wait, number five was just friend who was, believe it or not, deathly afraid of clowns. That explains why said person stayed a mile away while im having my picture taken with my lover, Mickey Mouse, at Disneyland. Anyways, what did Americans come up with to help them overcome this fear? Well according to the experts, as well as every 80's show I've ever watched, all you need to do is imagine the audience either naked or in their underwear and, supposedly, your fear will just disappear. Poof. Gone like my dignity after a night of drinking. Personally, I have never tried this technique, but I've heard that it does indeed work for some people. And by "some people" I mean panty-fiends and blue-blocker wearin' pervs. But hey, they're people too. So that's the American technique, which leads me to... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese style. It should be noted that Japanese people do not fear public speaking like people in the west. Sure it would make the top-ten phobias list, but I am sure that "mydaughterwantstomarryaforeigner" phobia and "Imightactuallyhavetothinkformyselftoday" phobia would surely be higher on the list. However, when faced with the task of public speaking, Japanese people employ an interesting tactic. Before they are to speak, Japanese people draw the kanji for "people" on their palm and then 'eat' the person out of their hand. The person is a representation of the audience and 'eating them' allows one to swallow their fear, or something along those lines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was thinking about how backwards these two techniques are. Think about it, America is a country full of meat-eating freaks. Beef is the god damn American heroin. And Japan is, shamely, a country of panty-loving perverts. Pick up a porn magazine and its women's underwear as far as the eye can see. Shouldn't the styles be switched around? Shouldn't Americans, faced with a public speech, be getting their snack-on, vis-a-vis a tasty human morsel? And shouldn't Japanese people, the pervs of the planet, be dreaming about all the office ladies in the audience in their underwear? Or maybe, just maybe, all of us, Japanese and Americans alike, should think about eating naked people that taste like underwear. That, ladies and gentlemen, might be the ultimate solution...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114585850624336280?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114585850624336280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114585850624336280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/freedom.html' title='FREEDOM'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114585803557287106</id><published>2006-04-23T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T23:03:42.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing</title><content type='html'>"Engrish" is the term used to describe the hilariously mangled English the Japanese adorn damn near everything with, especially shirts, but also pants, signs, calendars, pencils, food, etc. If a surface can have near-illiterate English stamped on it, chances are it will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is because English is cool. The Japanese don't particularly care to understand what's written, which is good since it usually makes absolutely no sense. Sometimes, though, Engrish can reach sublime and even, apparently, unintentionally literary levels of absurdity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, one girl at the university cafeteria was wearing a green pullover that bore the words, in white, rounded 70's-style letters: "Milk of Human Kindness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, this Japanese girl in this boring city on an island at the dizzy fringes of Asia was wearing a shirt with an allusion to "Macbeth" on it. Which means that Engrish has gotten so bad as to have come full circle and become ... Shakespeare. Somewhere, a monkey hunched over a typewriter is smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The back of the shirt advertised a company called "Personal." I didn't get a chance to read their full motto, though I did see that they described it as "a gratuitous company." No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other girl's shirt wasn't directly Shakespearean, though it contained a sentiment Lady Macbeth doubtless would have appreciated. On the front in large, colorful, sparkly letters it said, "The Secret to MAINTAINING One's Health..." At first, I thought this would be your standard, inocuous, Celine Dion ballad-esque Engrish shirt (like "If I could one hope: dream grew love")... then I saw the sleeve, where said secret was spelled out in big, block letters. It read, I kid you not: "Physical Violence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, according to my (again, female elementary school) student's shirt, the secret to maintaining one's health is... physical violence. If there were an Engrish shirt to express my reaction to seeing that, it would read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A Brick in My Pants, Please, Let's Shitting."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114585803557287106?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114585803557287106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114585803557287106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/full-of-sound-and-fury-signifying.html' title='Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114558447337520686</id><published>2006-04-20T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:31:05.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WikiGuide to Japanese Profanity</title><content type='html'>... and to women readers, please dont read. Kindly proceed to your kitchen, wash the dishes and bake me some pie, or get pregnant or something. No, seriously. Otherwise, you will hate me more than you already do (T.T) (&gt;.&lt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honor of my crazy friends out there, and as a general public service, I now provide a handy guide to the darker side of Nihongo (because everyone loves to learn dirty words and they're usually the only words in a foreign language we remember or have need to use). This is a list of every bad, dirty, sexual, morbid, disgusting, insulting, profane, and evil thing to say in Japanese that I can rememember at the moment. If you, dear readers, know other profanities, please list them in the comments section and I'll add them. With a little luck, we'll soon have the largest compendium of Japanese curses known to man. A veritable Lexion of Licentiousness. And away we go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Beddo-in suru&lt;/strong&gt;: "Have sex," literally "do in bed." Alternatives include "futon-in suru" (on a futon) "kuruma-in suru" (in a car), "puburiku preisu-in suru" (in a public place), and my personal favorite, "sensei no tsukue-in suru" (on the professor's desk).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cheiri boi&lt;/strong&gt;: "Cherry boy." Aka: virgin. The Japanese picked this up from English and have put it to good use to describe the people who haven't engaged in the activities associated with most of the other words in this list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chinchin&lt;/strong&gt;: "Peepee." A cutesy word for penis. Makes reading "the Three Little Pigs" a particularly hazardous enterprise due to the line, "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chinkasu&lt;/strong&gt;: "Penis dripping." Essentially, this is calling someone "pre-cum." My personal favorite insult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chinko&lt;/strong&gt;: "Penis." If you're a Western male, you'll hear this word used a lot... usually by old Japanese men or elementary school students who are pointing at your crotch. Often replaces "konnichiwa" as a standard greeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hentai&lt;/strong&gt;: "Perverse." Usually applied to pornographic anime, which politely blurs out the genitals so viewers can enjoy graphic scenes of schoolgirls being brutally raped by tentacled aliens without seeing anything untoward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kanyu suki?&lt;/strong&gt; : "Do you like big breasts?" Sounds very close to "can you ski?" which has probably led to many a hilarious and tragic misunderstanding in Nagano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Korosu-zo!&lt;/strong&gt; : "I'll kill you!" The harshest curse in the language, only say it if you really really mean it, or you are having trouble motivating your students to learn English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kuso&lt;/strong&gt;: "Shit." Full form is "kusottare," which literally means "shit water." Sadly, describing a drunk as "kuso no kao" (shit-faced) just leads to confusion here, though "kuso o tabero soshite shine!" (eat shit and die!) gets its meaning across very effectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Manko&lt;/strong&gt;: "Pussy." Not to be confused with "anko," the red bean paste often used in pastries, though doing so is an endless source of amusement for one's co-workers when one announces in the office "mmm, manko ga daisuki desu!" (mmm, pussy is my favorite!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nampa suru&lt;/strong&gt;: "Girl hunting." Used by men when they go out looking to get laid. Successful completion of the mission leads to a triumphant "nampa shita!" from the man in question and a hearty "otsukaresama deshita!" from his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Omae!&lt;/strong&gt; : "You!" When used among friends this is informal and friendly. When used among people who are not friends, it's exceedingly rude. As such, it's pretty much my standard way of referring to everyone except my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sekusu&lt;/strong&gt;: "Sex." As the main words for sex in Japanese are borrowed from English, I can only conclude that either a.) the Japanese had never had sex before the 17th century (furthering my theory that the Japanese reproduce using pods) or b.) were having it so much they just never got around to naming it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shikkusu-nain&lt;/strong&gt;: "69." This word was a godsend as my many previous requests for "roku-ju kyu" were frustratingly met with confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shine!&lt;/strong&gt; : "Die!" Can be softened to "doka shinde kudasai," which means "for my sake, would you please go ahead and die?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sukebe&lt;/strong&gt;: "Pervert." Typically applied to Japanese men who are acting sketchy. In other words, "virtually all Japanese men virtually all the time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tabechaitai&lt;/strong&gt;: "I want to eat you out." Aka: cunnilingus, muff diving, licking the hairy fish taco, etc. As Japanese is highly contextualized, this word can also mean "you're so cute I could just eat you up!" when said of an adorable child. Probably best not to say to the adorable children of gangsters, just to be safe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yachimai-na!&lt;/strong&gt; : "Tear them apart!" Yakuza slang used when ordering or encouraging someone to fight. It's like a really violent version of "ganbarre!" Use it at your next Sports Day. It's hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yariman&lt;/strong&gt;: "Slut." Literally means something like "used pussy." The meanest insult directed at the fairer sex I've ever heard. The male equivalent, basically a "player," is "yarichin."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114558447337520686?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114558447337520686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114558447337520686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/wikiguide-to-japanese-profanity.html' title='WikiGuide to Japanese Profanity'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114558398847853560</id><published>2006-04-20T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T19:22:53.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dictionary</title><content type='html'>My blog readership could be easily divided between the people who do and don't understand the following: "oats-car-osama." So... to alleviate the troubles of the Nihongo-impaired, I will now provide a master lexicon of basic phrases you'll find unconsciously scattered throughout my posts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Abunai&lt;/strong&gt;: "Watch out!; Dangerous." Employed as follows, "Urinating on powerlines during an electrical storm is abunai."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Arigato Gozaimasu&lt;/strong&gt;: "Thank you." Alternatives include arigato, domo, and for bad &lt;em&gt;omiyage&lt;/em&gt;, "meh" is acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Omiyage&lt;/strong&gt;: Souvenirs brought back from vacations to apologize to your colleagues or friends for letting them down by enjoying your life rather than working yourself into a pointless drudgery-induced suicidal nihilism. Omiyage are typically nicely packaged snacks, whose stomach churning contents (often red bean paste) are also seen as a form of revenge against your nosey co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eigo&lt;/strong&gt;: The English language, a form of primitive communication common amongst the big-nosed, yellow-haired, vaguely simian creatures who inhabit &lt;em&gt;Gaikoku&lt;/em&gt;. Characterized by a series of loud grunts and strange ape-sounds like "L" and "th."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gaikoku&lt;/strong&gt;: One of the only two countries in the world, the other being Japan. The residents of Gaikoku often insist that Gaikoku is not one nation but many, with a stunning array of cultures and history, but this is silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gaijin&lt;/strong&gt;: Literally, "outsider," it is the somewhat derogatory term used for "foreigners" in Japan. The preferred word is "gaikokujin," which means "outlander." In Japanese &lt;strike&gt;fucked-up&lt;/strike&gt; mind, gaijin are easily identified by their large noses, pale skin, blond hair, and enormous genitalia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chuugakko&lt;/strong&gt;: Literally, "middle school," where i used to have a part-time-job teaching english. It is the equivalent of the American junior high, with grades 7-9. Also known as "Japanese Boot Camp," since it is in chugakko that students are educated in the ways of Japanese culture. Namely, soul-crushing conformity and inedible food. "Chugakksei," means "jr. high school student," though the word literally means, "little shits in sailor suits."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ganbatte Kudasai&lt;/strong&gt;: "Do your best!" Employed when urging someone to win a game, ace a test, or dig up all that unsightly grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Genki&lt;/strong&gt;: "Lively, energetic." Used lovingly to describe rambunctious children or as an insult for extremely annoying and infantile adults. Also forms the basis of the greeting "o-genki desu ka?" (lit. "are you lively?", equiv. of "how are you?"), the response to which is usually "I'm fine sankyou ando you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shokudo (Seikyo): &lt;/strong&gt;"University canteen" Originally developed to provide students with healthy and cheap food, it's currently used to break the spirits of students. Banned as torture by the Geneva Convention in 1949.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nihon&lt;/strong&gt;: A semi-mythical island empire located at the eastern fringes of the world. Its name literally means "Origin of the Sun," which is usually poeticized in English as, "The Land Where You Can Buy Used Schoolgirl Panties from Vending Machines."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nihongo&lt;/strong&gt;: The Japanese language. Not known to be related to any other language on earth, it has been controversially said to be connected to the Altaic language group that includes Turkish and Mongolian, but with some Polynesian influences. This controversy arises largely from the fact that no one has any idea what the hell the Japanese are saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nihonjin&lt;/strong&gt;: A mythical race of people rumored to live in a mysterious archipelago in the sea. Long since proven by scientists to have only existed in old wives' tales to scare Chinese and Korean children. According to legend, the Nihonjin were a hard-working people who loved tea, had bland food and bad teeth, and were given to startling bursts of technological progress between long stretches of isolation and the occasional attempt at genocidal world domination. See also: the British.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ohayo gozaimasu&lt;/strong&gt;: "Good morning." Usually shortened to "mhsssssss," so that walking into a Japanese office in the morning sounds like walking into a den of snakes with speech impediments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Osaki ni&lt;/strong&gt;: "Excuse me for leaving the room," one says this when leaving work before others. Translations also include, "excuse me for actually having a life," and "so long suckers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Otsukaresama deshita&lt;/strong&gt;: Literally, "you must be tired," it is the equivalent of "thank you for your hard work." Also said at the end of the day when leaving work, when it means "thank you for your fruitless hours of ridiculousness."  Also effectively used after: sex, a co-worker's sojourn in the staff bathroom, and bad dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tsukareta&lt;/strong&gt;: "I'm tired." At Konbini where you are doing your part-time-job, it means, "get the fuck away from me, you fuckers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Konbini&lt;/strong&gt;: "Convenience store." A ubiquitous aspect of Japanese life, conbinis are the place to go to for all of life's essentials: food, snacks, drinks, supplies, and porn with the genitals blurred out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nomikai/Enkai&lt;/strong&gt;: "Work party." A time for Japanese people to get together with co-workers and unwind over a few drinks (note that in Japan, "a few drinks" is the equivalent of a kegger). Since what occurs at an enkai will never be mentioned again, enkais often involve employees drunkenly telling off their boss, exposing themselves, asking ridiculously personal questions, or engaging in wanton sexual behavior. Perhaps, Virtually identical to office Christmas parties in America, except no one gets fired on Monday for urinating on the boss's wife after she passes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Inaka&lt;/strong&gt;: "Countryside." The rural districts of Japan, as determined and measured by the meters between conbinis. If you can walk 10 meters without passing a Lawson's, Family Mart, 7-11, or Coco, you are officially inaka. Levels of inaka are also classified by the best fast food chain one has. As follows: Not Inaka (Wendy's), Partially Inaka (McDonald's), Pretty Inaka (KFC), Damned Inaka (MosBurger), Ridiculously Fucking Inaka (none). The inaka is distinguished by its expanses of rice paddies, unpopulated schools, small villages, lack of young people, and extremely sexually frustrated single people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kana&lt;/strong&gt;: The native Japanese writing system, used alongside kanji, the kana are the two phonetic syllabaries: hiragana and katakana. The former is used to write Japanese words and provide grammar references in sentences, like verb endings and particles. Katakana is used to bastardize foreign loan words, so that rather than being embarassingly productive, foreigners are forced to spend hours sounding out katakana words they encounter, trying desparately to figure out which of their own words it is. For instance, "hanbugu," "chiizu," or "rabu rabu." Many Japanese words are also written in katakana, to the further torment of foreigners&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kanji&lt;/strong&gt;: "Han Chinese Characters." The system of writing borrowed from China, kanji are some 2,000 ideographs that have both phonetic and semiotic components called "radicals" (such as water, wheat stalk, mouth, fire, person, etc) that reveal much about the culture that invented them. For instance, ethnolinguists have determined that the fauna of China when the characters were first invented consisted largely of window panes with spider legs and spikey boxes wearing hats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ne&lt;/strong&gt;: The equivalent of the Canadian "eh?" or the more formal "isn't it?", "ne" is an interjection seeking confirmation from the addressed party. Used as follows, "the sky's really beautiful, ne?" or "Food at seikyo tasted like the underside of my left ass cheek, ne?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oishii&lt;/strong&gt;: "Delicious." The word has an interesting history, as for centuries it served merely as an abstract concept, as none of the raw or overcooked food in Japan could even remotely be described as "oishii." Oishii thus could only be defined as something that didn't exist. The first word you will learn when you come to Japan, as you can hear people say it every single second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Suki&lt;/strong&gt;: "Like." Used as such, "sashimi ga suki desu" ("I like tasteless, uncooked fish"). Also used to mean love, so that the highest level of intimacy that can be expressed in Japanese is "suki desu," or "I like you." This is reserved only for true love of the most transcendant sort. More common expressions include: "I don't mind you" (for immediate family members), "I vaguely tolerate you" (for close friends), and "I suppose that if given the choice, I'd probably prefer you not to die, but I can't be totally sure" (for other friends). Co-workers, acquaintances, and others are told, "reply hazy, try again later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tanoshii&lt;/strong&gt;: "Enjoy." Despite "fun" being a near-perfect, easy-to-remember and pronounce translation of "tanoshii," the Japanese prefer to employ the verb "enjoy" as an adjective. As follows: "The festival was enjoy." As with katakana loan words, this is done not out of ignorance, but out of the enjoy that comes from watching the veins in a foreigner's head throb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yatta!&lt;/strong&gt; : "Did it!" The Japanese equivalent of "woo hoo!", employed upon completion of a task. Particularly effective in the bathroom for yourself. Use "Otsukaresama deshita" for others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yosh!&lt;/strong&gt; : Japanese equivalent of the heavy sigh, used after a gruelling physical exertion such as standing up, sitting down, opening a book, lifting a paperclip, or breathing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114558398847853560?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114558398847853560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114558398847853560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/dictionary.html' title='Dictionary'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114550529845074419</id><published>2006-04-19T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T07:52:04.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Next crazy people after  the Japanese ....</title><content type='html'>... is definitely the Chinese!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was invited to a big dinner the other night at a Chinese friend's house. My friend is from Manchuria, so she told me that she will be serving Manchurian food. I never thought of Manchurian food as any special Chinese cuisine, considering it is not really known around the world. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised at how unique and different it tastes from the standard Chinese dishes I'm accustomed to.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/z17957038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/z17957038.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The top dish is full of cilantro, or as it might be called coriander, or xiang cai (in Mandarin). I rarely see it in Chinese food, so I was quite amazed (Not that I'm a big fan of chinese food or something). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/z17957150.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/z17957150.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poor orange creature on above picture was turned inside out and fashioned in some unknown way into these balls of fish.  Remarkably, all the meat is still attached to the spine. Lucky for him, the sacrifice was not wasted and he was totally consumed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had deer meat that was shaped into round balls and deep fried, but the most mind-blowing dish was something my friend could only describe as "wild animal".  I got the Chinese word, PaoZi (pr: Pow-zeh), for it.  At first asking my chinese friend at my table what paozi meant in English, meeting only with blank stares and shrugged shoulders.  I then asked other Chinese friend at lab the next day with the same result.  They could only tell me it was like a cross between a small deer and a dog .  Can you imagine my horror to the mention of "dog" with food I had unwittingly eaten the night before? God knows how they got the stuff here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/z17957328.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/z17957328.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The giant donut-hole looking things are actually some kind of fried apples.  They must be eaten quickly, otherwise they'd stick together.  Before eating them, you must dip them into a bowl of water to prevent scalding your tongue.  I am excited to have sampled cuisine from another part of the world and look forward to discovering more invitation to free dinner LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114550529845074419?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114550529845074419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114550529845074419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/next-crazy-people-after-japanese.html' title='Next crazy people after  the Japanese ....'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114491202616361266</id><published>2006-04-12T23:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T00:08:47.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>War ...</title><content type='html'>I dont understand why people have to fight to each other over religion issues. Isn't it ironic that any religion asks you to live a peaceful life ? Stick to your goddamn beliefs and stop making fun of other's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohammed_cartoon"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is a link to news about recent incident where the Muslims were angry at The controversial cartoons of Muhammad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But let's all look at why Muslims are upset: &lt;br /&gt;First of all, in the Muslim religion, you're not allowed to have what? Yes, Sex. Good. "&lt;strong&gt;NO SEX&lt;/strong&gt;"There's no sex until marriage in the Muslim world. Now, this would be fine except that in the Muslim religion you also can't... Anybody? Yes, Jack off. "&lt;strong&gt;NO JACKING OFF&lt;/strong&gt;". Okay, jacking it is strictly forbidden in the Muslim religion. And what do we know about the places Muslims live? They live in? Good, sand. Now put yourself in the shoes of a Muslim. It's Friday night, but you can't have sex, and you can't jack off. There's sand in your eyes and probably in the crack of your ass. Then you decided to read a newspaper and you find some cartoon comes along from a country where people are getting laid, and mocks your prophet. Well you know what? I'd be pretty pissed off too! In fact, I am pissed off!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114491202616361266?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114491202616361266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114491202616361266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/war.html' title='War ...'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114472450863640045</id><published>2006-04-10T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T00:14:51.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WARNING:  A gourmet guide to Japan</title><content type='html'>To those of you who haven't been in Japan and dont know about this full-of-joy land, in addition to &lt;strike&gt;shit&lt;/strike&gt; natto written on previous post, the Japanese also consume a bunch of weird stuff (according to most foreigners i know) that makes you want to shout at the Japanese "What the fuck is wrong with you people?!". &lt;br /&gt;If you go to an &lt;em&gt;enkai&lt;/em&gt; (company/school drinking party) at an &lt;em&gt;izakaya&lt;/em&gt; (japanese-style bar), you likely may have &lt;em&gt;sashimi&lt;/em&gt; (sliced raw fish) that you eat out of a huge whole fish, whose position had him staring at you throughout the meal, and whose upturned fin made him look like he was waving at you. It reminded me of the cow who serves as a waiter/entree in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. I apologized everytime I ate part of him, and then added, "God, you are delicious."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw fish is nothing compared to other things the Japanese eat raw, like raw beef and raw chicken. Yes, &lt;strong&gt;raw chicken&lt;/strong&gt;! You may also have &lt;em&gt;basashi&lt;/em&gt; for the first time in your life, "ba" means horse and "sashi" means "right off of the." Yes, it's the infamous Kyushu dish of &lt;strong&gt;raw horse meat&lt;/strong&gt;, the dish that makes you feel like a lion bringing down a zebra on the Serengeti. It is actually pretty good, tasting like a good rare steak, but not something you may really have a desire to eat again. You will probably also going to avoid visiting your uncle's horses again, for fear they'll smell it and take vengeance upon you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Basashi&lt;/em&gt; is just the latest in a long line of bizarre foods the Japanese people have consumed. The following is a list of the most notable said bizarre foods I've eaten, in no particular order, as my today's bad-tempered ass can't be bothered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://image01.depart.livedoor.com/free/sayuri/2326-21.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://image01.depart.livedoor.com/free/sayuri/2326-21.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw horse meat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sushikan.tokyo.walkerplus.com/image/sushikan_07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://shop.gnavi.co.jp/okushiri/img/unidonappu.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw sea urchin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://image01.depart.livedoor.com/free/sayuri/2326-21.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img2.store.yahoo.co.jp/I/domannaka_1874_20164297" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw fish eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sushikan.tokyo.walkerplus.com/image/sushikan_07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://lib3.store.yahoo.co.jp/lib/pointb/333" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw octopus tentacle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://image01.depart.livedoor.com/free/sayuri/2326-21.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.chugoku-np.co.jp/Ryouri/img/itsuzai89.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw sea cucumber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sushikan.tokyo.walkerplus.com/image/sushikan_07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.sushikan.tokyo.walkerplus.com/image/sushikan_07.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raw whale meat &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Japan may have been an advanced country with all the technology and stuff, but when you enter a local traditional restaurant, you will go back to the jurassic period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114472450863640045?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114472450863640045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114472450863640045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/warning-gourmet-guide-to-japan.html' title='WARNING:  A gourmet guide to Japan'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114472036234601701</id><published>2006-04-10T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T18:55:03.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman, oh woman ....</title><content type='html'>I dont know what's got into my mother's head these days. Actually, i dont know what's got into all women's head these days. When my mother knew that i might move into my friend's apartment, she thought i am going to marry my friend! Oh no, wait. It got worse when she told my aunt (her closest sister) about that. Let's just say I should award my aunt "The Dumbest Idea of The Year" for her fucked up thought, that to overcome my mother's fear (dont even get me started with this one!), she suggested that they should set me up with my first-cousin's daughter, A******! They even already asked her (a 19-year-old girl who by the way, always called me Uncle A*** ) if she wants to take me as her future husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldnt believe what i was hearing when my sister told me that. I wish you, my loyal readers, could have seen my terrified look being frozen in terror and horror for 5 minutes. I have been looking forward to going home in august and present at my sister's wedding, but now i am more than thrilled as i also have to face some crazy &lt;strike&gt;women&lt;/strike&gt; relatives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114472036234601701?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114472036234601701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114472036234601701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/woman-oh-woman.html' title='Woman, oh woman ....'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114430598347295375</id><published>2006-04-05T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T06:56:18.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OLD WINDBAGS !! .... I swear to God</title><content type='html'>Apparently these days i have some kinda old-ladies magnet on me. They just will talk to me at any time, anywhere, about any damn thing that's on their damn mind. Just to let my readers know, this is ONE example. I was at the grocery store browsing at the fish section. Suzuki miho, a 55 years old lady who was happened to be there also, started to talk to me, a total stranger. She has a 18-year-old son that reads at a 8-year-old level. She lives in BORING, Sendai and her husband's name is Toshio. Toshio works for a trucking company. Toshio doesn't like his job, but he's almost retired, so why quit now (nuck nuck nuck)? Thanks for the conversation Suzuki, 'cause I really give two shits about your illiterate son, your ugly husbands, or his craptacular job. No, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114430598347295375?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114430598347295375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114430598347295375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/old-windbags-i-swear-to-god.html' title='OLD WINDBAGS !! .... I swear to God'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114414201174537082</id><published>2006-04-04T01:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T02:25:01.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unlucky Numbers</title><content type='html'>As all of you know, in the West, 13 is the unluckiest number. It's a prime number and is composed of 1, the lonliest number you'll ever see, and 3, which is a crowd. Or the Holy Trinity. Neither of which is good. In Japan, 13 is a perfectly fine number for Fridays or even hotel floors, with the added benefit that if you stay on the 14th floor, you don't piss Fate off by pretending it can't count. Japan, though, has its own unlucky numbers, specifically 4 and also 9, for an obvious reason. There are even two ways to say "four" in Japanese, "yon" and "shi," because the latter is a homonym for "death." 9 is the same, being either the inocuous "kyu" or "ku" which sounds just like "suffering." Thus, you can walk into any Japanese gym and hear the kids shouting the equivalent of... "one! two! three! DEATH! five! six! seven! eight! SUFFERING! ten!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese even extend the idea of unlucky numbers to birthdays with the idea of "yakudoshi," or unlucky years. For women, 33 is an unlucky year (3x3 is equal nine, which means agony, and remember, 3 is associated with over crowding and the Almighty) while for men it's 42, due to that unlucky 4. I think. I don't really know and have been forced to pull this information from my most reliable research source: my skinny ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little I do know I got from farewell party for the leavers at my dorm about a couple of weeks ago, when we feted Umeda-san, my dorm supervisor who's turned 42 this year. In order to avoid the bad luck, certain ancient rituals had to be performed. First, he was taken to the local shrine and had some kind of traditional excorcism performed by a priest, then people got him drunk and gave him a new tie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really get the party, but by partying with him, the rest of us also divide up his bad luck and we all share it among ourselves equally. I was not told about this beforehand, and was a little upset, as I thought the price of the party and necktie was steep enough. Though maybe as the spirit forces or whatever were divvying up the bad luck severalty style, Still, I hate sharing, especially other people's bad luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, though, I have enough of it anyway. I did a bit more non-ass-based research and discovered that 25 is also a yakudoshi for men. Which means that the year of my life when I got collapsed few times from PDO (i had never been hospitalized before), stumbled across some brutal stabbing news from closed people, being single and broke, and have to sit my ass for another few months in sendai was merely a preview of the bad luck coming this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not even getting beer and a necktie out of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114414201174537082?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114414201174537082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114414201174537082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/04/unlucky-numbers.html' title='Unlucky Numbers'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114373570003250947</id><published>2006-03-30T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T20:47:55.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>L.O.V.E</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cuddlycollectibles.com/Disney/Mickey%20Mouse/Figures/AP34153MickeyLovePVC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.cuddlycollectibles.com/Disney/Mickey%20Mouse/Figures/AP34153MickeyLovePVC.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is not a noun, it's a verb. You dont say it, but you show it. There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved. But, true love begins when nothing is looked for in return. Because love seeks to make happy rather than to be happy. For that reason, I Love You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To Everyone, Happy belated Valentine's Day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114373570003250947?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114373570003250947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114373570003250947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/03/love.html' title='L.O.V.E'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114365302461641370</id><published>2006-03-29T09:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T09:23:44.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Health Tips</title><content type='html'>For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting medical studies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The Japanese drink very little red winde and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Italians drink large amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The Russians drink a lot of vodka, eat a lot of perogies, cabbage rolls and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, Australians, British , or Canadians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you !!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114365302461641370?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114365302461641370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114365302461641370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/03/health-tips.html' title='Health Tips'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114302540476401011</id><published>2006-03-22T02:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T10:05:59.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Math</title><content type='html'>As some of you may recall, back then in high school, i joined the math club on sunday morning whilst the rest of boys were probably playing ball games, watching sunday anime, playing PS or ... jerking off. Yes, i was a nerd and thats why other students hated me.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the math club wasn't a bad idea after all. I remember how i kicked ass in math class and always came home with an A+, like this one ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/ShowLetter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/400/ShowLetter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, Y'all know Im just joking. No, seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114302540476401011?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114302540476401011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114302540476401011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/03/math.html' title='Math'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-114214145519369510</id><published>2006-03-11T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T09:33:33.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain-washed society</title><content type='html'>Man, its been so long! Finding time to post has been about as difficult as your average octogenarian trying to get a hard-on. No really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, real life is more important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my life I have heard the phrase "Eat this, it is good for your health!!" Growing up you just ignore your mother when she says that. The other day I was in my dorm when an Indian foreign student asked me what I was cooking for dinner. I told her I was eating &lt;em&gt;Natto&lt;/em&gt; (smelly fermented soybeans). I also explained that July 10th was natto day in Japan. She then asked me if it was good. I answered her "Of course! It is good for your health". She started laughing. I asked her why she was laughing. She told me that so many Japanese people always say everything is good for your health. She said that she found it hard to believe that &lt;em&gt;Miso&lt;/em&gt; soup or &lt;em&gt;tempura&lt;/em&gt; or jelly vitamin and amino acid packs could be good for your health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that miso soup is incredibly high in salt and usually preservatives if bought in powder form (which is the one i always buy). I also realized that so many Japanese suck on body drinks for our vitamins and minerals and say it is oishii and "good for your health" instead of eating real fruits and vegetables. From there Japanese foods seemed delicious but not really that good for your health. Deep fried vegetables or meats on noodles (my fave!) in a preservatives and additive sauce. Even the fact that you will find and egg in one shape or form on almost anything you eat in Japan. I am not saying Japanese food is unhealthy, but maybe not as healthy as everyone thinks or says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, for those of you who have been wondering about "what the heck is natto?!" for the last 2 minutes reading this blog, the picture below is specially brought to you for your viewing pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/Natto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/Natto.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok folks, now give me your real honest comment. It looks like shit?? Well i was gonna say "an alien abortion", but i guess we can use yours instead. But not just that, it also tastes like crap, and FYI it DOES smell like shit. Seriously you guys. The sad part is that &lt;strong&gt;I'm so broke that i have to eat shit for dinner&lt;/strong&gt;. On the brighter side, it's a really healthy food. Yeah right, whatever. As if that really sounds like something i would ever say. Normal people will agree that anything that looks, tastes and smells like shit is not food. Unless you are .... mentally unstable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-114214145519369510?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114214145519369510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/114214145519369510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/03/brain-washed-society.html' title='Brain-washed society'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113714484656795159</id><published>2006-01-13T01:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T09:32:51.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow</title><content type='html'>Friggin snow, man. I hate the damn thing! I always ruin one pair of shoes every single year because of the snow. Talking about snow, remember the good old days ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/b4913038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/b4913038.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/b15622003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/b15622003.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people love the winter!  Alas, I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; some people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113714484656795159?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113714484656795159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113714484656795159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/01/snow.html' title='Snow'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113714394659295608</id><published>2006-01-13T00:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T01:19:07.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gomi</title><content type='html'>For all of those that live/d in Japan, i know you must all know. But for those who never lived in this country, FYI ... Japanese are crazy about their gomi (garbage). There are about forty-eight different days a month where you take out a particular kind of garbage. Batteries, home electronics, hard plastic, clear plastic, etc. And the instructions and schedules, even with all those adorable pictures ('Look Mom, the bottles all have smiling, pink faces! Its as if they don't even know they are about to be incinerated. Kawaiiiiiiiiiii!!!!), are seriously vexing. 144 hours following the second from the last Monday, given a waxing lunar position, is the day and time that you should prepare your PET bottles with the necessary oils and cleansers. However, if you should take out said PET bottles before the 144th hour, ye are surely screwed. Etcetera, Etcetera, Etcetera. Given that there really are some confusing rules about garbage collection (the next three months are particularly confusing, as the kuyakusho (ward office) changed the normal schedule), even Japanese people find it difficult to follow said rules. D'oh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113714394659295608?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113714394659295608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113714394659295608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2006/01/gomi.html' title='Gomi'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113518461702839521</id><published>2005-12-21T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T23:00:44.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom</title><content type='html'>What I learned at a documentary show about USA yesterday on BS2 channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans fear public speaking more than they fear death. It's written. It's a fact. Americans top five fears are public speaking, death, spiders, heights, and clowns. Oh wait, number five was just friend who was, believe it or not, deathly afraid of clowns. That explains why said person stayed a mile away while im having my picture taken with my lover, Mickey Mouse, at Disneyland. Anyways, what did Americans come up with to help them overcome this fear? Well according to the experts, as well as every 80's show I've ever watched, all you need to do is imagine the audience either naked or in their underwear and, supposedly, your fear will just disappear. Poof. Gone like my dignity after a night of drinking. Personally, I have never tried this  technique, but I've heard that it does indeed work for some people. And by "some people" I mean panty-fiends and blue-blocker wearin' pervs. But hey, they're people too. So that's the American technique, which leads me to...   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese style. It should be noted that Japanese people do not fear public speaking like people in the west. Sure it would make the top-ten phobias list, but I am sure that "mydaughterwantstomarryaforeigner" phobia and "Imightactuallyhavetothinkformyselftoday" phobia would surely be higher on the list. However, when faced with the task of public speaking, Japanese people employ an interesting tactic. Before they are to speak,  Japanese people draw the kanji for "people" on their palm and then 'eat' the person out of their hand. The person is a representation of the audience and 'eating them' allows one to swallow their fear, or something along those lines.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was thinking about how backwards these two techniques are. Think about it, America is a country full of meat-eating freaks. Beef is the god damn American heroin. And Japan is, shamely, a country of panty-loving perverts. Pick up a porn magazine and its women's underwear as far as the eye can see. Shouldn't the styles be switched around? Shouldn't Americans, faced with a public speech, be getting their snack-on, vis-a-vis a tasty human morsel? And shouldn't Japanese people, the pervs of the planet, be dreaming about all the office ladies in the audience in their underwear? Or maybe, just maybe, all of us, Japanese and Americans alike, should think about eating naked people that taste like underwear. That, ladies and gentlemen,  might be the ultimate solution...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113518461702839521?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113518461702839521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113518461702839521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/12/freedom.html' title='Freedom'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113472228202375656</id><published>2005-12-16T00:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T00:38:02.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempura Galore</title><content type='html'>As you may recall, i only have 6 words for tempura. Crap, I love those bad boys!!! Especially, ebi (prawn) tempura. No shit. I mean, i took a friend to an all-u-can-eat tempura restaurant the other day, and boy-o-boy, i ate like 60 prawns. Yup, 60 !! Forget about other stuff that i also ate at that place that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, i read a funny comic on japan times about tempura. Man, those comics sometimes really crack me up !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/zg20051127.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/400/zg20051127.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113472228202375656?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113472228202375656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113472228202375656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/12/tempura-galore.html' title='Tempura Galore'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113395859998438295</id><published>2005-12-07T03:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T09:44:16.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brrrr . . .</title><content type='html'>.... because I miss the warm osaka winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got home right now freezing my little nuts off. It is seriously cold here, and although my body doesn't take too well with the cold, I am loving every snowflake that falls. I am still confused at some girls who dress like its a pleasant day in the Sahara even though its cold enough to freeze a witches proverbial teat. It takes a heap of dedication to wear a tiny little skirt in this weather. A heap of dedication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently huddled under my heating blanket, eating kansai style udon with shrimp tempura (mmmm..., God's most glorious gift to humankind, minus chocolate ice cream and Bryan Adams (cause who doesn't love BA ?!?)) contemplating life's great mysteries. When i get serious and thing about life, I really just pontificated on such topics as eternal truth, the existence of the soul, the essence of being and other low-brow, uni-dimensional philosophical queries. However, with the temperature dropping faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest,  I find myself thinking about life's really important questions. Such as, do I really need to put my groceries away when it is arguably colder in my room than it is in my fridge? (The answer is no, I don't. Just yesterday I left all of my groceries out, including frozen products, most of the evening and everything remained right as rain. After all, it was hovering around friggin' freezing in that damn room, so it does make sense). I was also pondering whether my fa-fa-faaaaREEZING room could have some health benefits. Does excessive shivering act as a type of exercise?  More importantly, is it possible that at extreme temperatures my baby-producing fishies could actually be cryogenically frozen inside of my body? That way, if I ever started to shoot the proverbial blanks, a doctor could just properly unthaw the correct bits and pieces and *voila* my problems would be solved?  The list of questions could, of course, continue, but I wouldn't want to overload anyone's brain with too many thought-provoking questions.  We are only human, after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On other news, this weather does mean that I am out of luck if I want to use olive oil (this does mean that my olive oil wasn't winterized...the cheap bastards!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/oliveoil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/oliveoil.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, onward and upward to topics not related to snow, ice, sub-arctic temperatures, or frozen sperm ...  I am officially tired and need some sleep but life doesnt work that way. I gotta burst my arse working on my due thesis project. &lt;em&gt;Jigou Jitoku&lt;/em&gt; (well-earned punishment). &lt;em&gt;Ganbarou&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113395859998438295?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113395859998438295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113395859998438295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/12/brrrr.html' title='Brrrr . . .'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113396065940356977</id><published>2005-12-07T03:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T05:14:31.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stress-relief surge extra ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd0401s.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd0401s.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I love Mr. MA, my supervisor at lab. So, he knows that I was sick for 10 days and i decided to take another 10 days off to go home and rest last time. The illustration above represent much about our conversation when i got back to lab&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;Sigh ....&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113396065940356977?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113396065940356977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113396065940356977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/12/stress-relief-surge-extra.html' title='stress-relief surge extra ?'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113386190393527988</id><published>2005-12-06T01:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T01:38:24.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday augury</title><content type='html'>I thought that my sister's was so accurate, so I would try mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#E6E6FA" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Birthdate: August 19&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#F2F2FB"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/birthday.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are resilient, and no doubt your resilience has already been tested.&lt;br /&gt;You've had some difficult experiences in your life, but you are wise from them.&lt;br /&gt;Having had to grow up quickly, you tend to discount the advice of others.&lt;br /&gt;You tend to be a loner, having learned that the only person you can depend on is yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your strength: Well developed stability and confidence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your weakness: Suspicion of others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power color: Eggplant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power symbol: Spade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power month: October&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any of those true ???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113386190393527988?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113386190393527988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113386190393527988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/12/birthday-augury.html' title='Birthday augury'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113333249114174296</id><published>2005-11-29T21:41:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T20:52:37.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Manipulated two-faces bitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.superherostuff.com/characters/Others/images/cartman_pissed_off_t_shirt_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.superherostuff.com/characters/Others/images/cartman_pissed_off_t_shirt_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate those persons who come to you and ask if you're okay and stuff, pretending that as if they really care about you but in fact, all they care about is just wanting to get the dirt from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have to warn you all guys : Women talk. They share every damn single thing to other women, even the most personal stuff. BECAREFUL! Sorry, i just cant trust anything that bleeds for 7 days but doesnt die. WTF ?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113333249114174296?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333249114174296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333249114174296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/manipulated-two-faces-bitch.html' title='Manipulated two-faces bitch'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113333016096852149</id><published>2005-11-29T21:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T09:46:39.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Communist!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.kidsource.com/books/images/1558580093.l.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px;" src="http://www.kidsource.com/books/images/1558580093.l.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went through some old stuff last night, and I found a children's book called The Rainbow Fish by Marcus Pfister that I received as a gift from my friend on christmas 3 years ago. I remember that my friend gave me the book along with a Mickey Mouse stuffed that says "It's not easy being perfect" on it's t-shirt. I think my friend tried to tell me that i should be proud of just being myself, knowing how my friend always asked me why i am always being hard at myself sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I read the book again last night and I immediately began to suspect that Mr. Pfister is some sort of communist.  Do they have Swiss communists?  (I am assuming he is Swiss since that was where the book was originally published.)  For those of you unfamiliar with it, this is the story exactly as it appears in the book (including the weird use of the word "suddenly"):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rainbow Fish was the most beautiful fish in the sea.  One day, a little blue fish asked for just one of his shining scales.  "Never!" said Rainbow Fish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, the other fish swam away from him.  Rainbow Fish was all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went to the Octopus for help.  The Octopus said, "Give away your shining scales.  You won't be as beautiful, but you will be happy."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't do that!" cried Rainbow Fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the little blue fish was back.  "Please," he said. "Could I have a scale?"  Well, thought Rainbow Fish, maybe just one tiny little scale.  The little blue fish was so pleased, it made Rainbow Fish feel happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Rainbow Fish gave each of the fish a shining scale, until he only had one left.  But now he had friends, and as he swam off to play with them he was the happiest fish in the sea.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you go to amazon.com , the reviews seem to think its some sort of innocuous children's book about sharing.  How is this story just about sharing?  Where is the part where the fish give the scales BACK to the Rainbow Fish after they are done enjoying them?  What it really seems to be about is buying people off to be your friends or, worse yet, making friends at the expense of everything that makes you unique and special.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what are the messages of this book?&lt;br /&gt;1.  Even if you are ornery, you can still buy people off to pretend they are your friends.&lt;br /&gt;2.  If you stand out too much, do everything you can not to in order for people to like you.&lt;br /&gt;3.  If you are a greedy little blue fish, all you have to do is ask twice for something valuable and you will get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the other fish discover what a pain in the neck Mr. "Never!" and "I can't do that!" is, they probably won't be his "friends" anymore.  Then what will Rainbow Fish be left with?  He won't be the most beautiful fish in the sea anymore and he will be all alone again.  Too bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113333016096852149?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333016096852149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333016096852149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/communist.html' title='Communist!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113333161586527074</id><published>2005-11-29T21:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T09:31:12.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grrrr!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://pageperso.aol.fr/southwinnerking/images/super%20saiya-jin%20dbz%20-%20eric%20cartman%20-%20south%20park%20-%20pissed%20off.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://pageperso.aol.fr/southwinnerking/images/super%20saiya-jin%20dbz%20-%20eric%20cartman%20-%20south%20park%20-%20pissed%20off.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know why I'm such not a morning person anymore. Indeed, its getting worse. Is it because i stay at lab till late and went to bed at 4am or 5am and thus is incapable to wake up at 7 or 8 like normal people ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; As if there's a competition on who can wake me up the earliest, whether it is my 3 extremely loud alarm clocks, or the extremely loud jingle noise from the garbage truck, or even the rooster, who crows  w/o fail every morning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; But, we now have a new contender . . . Mother f*cking crows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Angry skeleton is, well, angry. Especially when he's under blanket trying to get more sleep and stay warm from the cruel freezing morning of sendai in December morning&lt;br /&gt;Grrrrr.&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention dumb f*cking &lt;em&gt;urusai&lt;/em&gt; girls in the full crowded bus on my way to lab, talking pointless niceties to each other better left unsaid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, the Sports festival was fun... but ours really was better, wasn't it?"&lt;br /&gt;"It sure is!"&lt;br /&gt;"Did you know it's raining today?"&lt;br /&gt;"It sure is!"&lt;br /&gt;yada yada yada.&lt;br /&gt;Just ... shut ... up. SHUT THE FU*CK UP !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113333161586527074?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333161586527074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113333161586527074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/grrrr.html' title='Grrrr!!!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113291677194962667</id><published>2005-11-25T03:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T03:06:11.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Blooming Grand !!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/bulb.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/bulb.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i when home last summer, I was very excited when the bulb i brought for my sister on the first day, finally bloomed before my departure.  Check out the vase and bulb; talk about no care needed.  You just put water in the vase and treat her like a man treats a wife of twenty years...ignore her. (Oh, you know I'm joking about the wife treating thing.  What the hell do I know about married life? ) Also, check out my sister's tacky mauve walls with embedded glitter. The bed is also next to it so I woke up with glitter all over myself. I love bulbs.  The flowers from them always seem prettier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113291677194962667?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113291677194962667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113291677194962667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/its-blooming-grand_25.html' title='It&apos;s Blooming Grand !!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113284436309703396</id><published>2005-11-24T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T22:04:43.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random news</title><content type='html'>I just got home. Relaxing after the shower. Eating donuts and reading news on internet. Here are some interesting news i read today :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BRITNEY SPEARS IS FAT AND UGLY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/FatBritney.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/200/FatBritney.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Look at those rolls!  Look at that damaged hair!  Look at that nasty expression on her face!  It's really not hot when your boobs hang out of the bottom of your swimsuit.  And she is only 22!!!&lt;br /&gt;  Remember when she had the stomach that everyone wished they had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;50 FIRST DATES&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just read an article about a woman who can't remember recent history, but whose long term memory is basically intact.  Instead of hitting a runaway cow, though, she was struck by lightning.  What I really want to call your attention to is what her dad says: "She has only one emotion, and it's happy.  She doesn't have any sort of regretfulness or remorse.  It will be a sign of improvement when she gets to that point."  A sign of improvement?  Wouldn't it be nice if the only emotion everyone had was "happy"?  Then we could all sing... tra-la-la... &lt;br /&gt;By the way, there are only two words for people who are always laughing and happy ... CRAZY!!!!! and .... HIGH!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FLORIDA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aother new story from Florida :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(CNN) -- A Florida couple accused of torturing and starving five of their seven children were taken into custody Friday night in Utah after detectives were able to track their cell phone signals, authorities said.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I not tell you that i think all the messed up people in the USA are from Florida, LOL? &lt;br /&gt;What's up with all the everyday's weird news stories that coming from Florida ?  I am convinced that Florida is some portal to the alien world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113284436309703396?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113284436309703396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113284436309703396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/random-news.html' title='Random news'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113284270907219310</id><published>2005-11-24T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T06:31:49.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>KARMA</title><content type='html'>It's funny how karma works.  Just when you think you have the universe figured out, karma comes back to bite you in the ass.  For e.g. I've stopped making fun of ugly kids and, in fact, I have stopped ALL THOUGHTS that any kids are unattractive.  It doesn't even cross my mind anymore.  However, I can't stop complaining about rude kids.  It drives me crazy.  I am sure I am doomed to a very rude child now.  That's just how karma works. There are more other examples that i just cant describe here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113284270907219310?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113284270907219310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113284270907219310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/karma.html' title='KARMA'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113213806980654190</id><published>2005-11-16T02:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T00:24:57.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mentos</title><content type='html'>... The freshmaker. My ass. Every single time I buy those things, they're always stale and hard. The only time I like them is when I take one from someone else who's bought them, then for some reason they always turn out to be tasty. It probably didn't help that I bought their new pink grapefruit flavor instead of strawberry like I thought. &lt;br /&gt;Im just in a pisser mood now, sitting on my ass working on my stagnant project all day long every frickin day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113213806980654190?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113213806980654190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113213806980654190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/mentos.html' title='Mentos'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113212448959331467</id><published>2005-11-15T22:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T18:48:34.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Curry</title><content type='html'>... is &lt;em&gt;OISHII&lt;/em&gt; (yummy). Especially south east asian curry, LOVE it! I'm not a big fan of so-called Japanese curry, though. But, what the mother of crap is up with indian food ? I ate curry from &lt;em&gt;Bhabir&lt;/em&gt; (a small bangladeshi food restaurant near my place) for lunch and i remained to smell like stinky-lamb-covered-with-curry-sauce the whole frickin day, its finally gone when i took a long bath around midnight before bedtime. God knows how much and what kind of spicy shits they put in it. After all, it wont make me stop going to &lt;em&gt;Bhabir&lt;/em&gt; though, because of their generous portion of curry meal set for only 399 yen (3 dollars something). I just need to go there at night on my way home from lab, if i dont want to keep losing friends from hideous body odor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113212448959331467?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113212448959331467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113212448959331467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/curry_16.html' title='Curry'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113099150108440336</id><published>2005-11-02T20:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T20:18:21.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in Translation</title><content type='html'>I was rolling on the floor laughing my ass off after receiving an email from someone here in Sendai. First off, she began the email by introducing herself, as if there isn't a full e-mail header signaling exactly who the email was from. But the absolute best (this is perhaps one of the best Engrish-lines I have ever seen) was the ending: "I apologize for any incontinence this may have caused." Yep, I was laughing so hard I almost did have an accident so it was a good thing she apologized in advance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113099150108440336?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099150108440336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099150108440336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in Translation'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113099110258580675</id><published>2005-11-02T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T20:55:56.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ANPANMAN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/anpanman-stand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/200/anpanman-stand.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, my crazy canadian friend decided to give me an anpanman towel for my late birthday gift. I guess he was missing the fact that i actually turned quarter of a century last august. Anyway, anpanman is one of the hottest must haves in Japan.  Merchandise of this cutie is ubiquitous here.  I had never heard of him for a long time and just thought it was because I had stopped waking up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons for over a decade now.  He actually might not have gone global yet.  Pan means bread in Japan and anpan is a bread pastry filled with sweet red beans.  How this became a superhero is really perplexing to me.  Here's a link which might explain it.  It traces his origins: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.netgeist.com/Anpan-land/Anpanbirth.htm"&gt;http://www.netgeist.com/Anpan-land/Anpanbirth.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113099110258580675?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099110258580675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099110258580675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/anpanman.html' title='ANPANMAN'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113099071423201112</id><published>2005-11-02T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T20:42:58.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zazen</title><content type='html'>Recently i have realized that i have issue on the ability of getting myself together. I seriously think that i should try &lt;em&gt;zazen&lt;/em&gt; (sit-in-meditation) for 20 minutes everyday. Speaking of zazen, when i went back to osaka last time, i felt guilty for not really exploring Kyoto as much as I should have.  Well, so I went to two very famous and important sites.  First, I went to Kinkaku-ji, whose golden reflection on the tranquil pond is one of the most breath-taking sites I've ever seen.  Then I had to see Ryoan-ji and its famous Zen rock garden.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/1600/zen1.jpg" width=250/&gt; &lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7660/1149/320/zen2.jpg" width=250/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a little funny watching tourists from all over the world staring at the garden in a meditative state trying to catch their zen moment. I hope they captured it (Im being sarcastic). One Japanese tourist glared at me with unhappy face for flipping through my guide book. I guess my turning pages and zen don't mix.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113099071423201112?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099071423201112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113099071423201112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/11/zazen.html' title='Zazen'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113047353320104641</id><published>2005-10-27T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T21:30:08.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hypochondria</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while, I convince myself I have some sort of life-threatening disease that requires a hospital visit.  Unfortunately, every single time, it's always something innocuous.  Today was no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time this happened, when I woke up in the morning having a terrible headache. I couldnt even stand up feeling everything is moving around. I also have this constant neck pain that at some point isn't something normal anymore. I was horrified having a thought i might have something serious - so I did what any sensible person would do.  I checked myself into the hospital, and what happened next ? The doctors concluded that I probably just need to do some excercise.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second time this happened, when i had the panic attack. While I considered the very real possibility that I had something wrong with my body, I came across the REAL problem while surfing the internet - I had gout.  Unfortunately, the doctors didn't agree.  Instead, they just gave me some BS explanation about these symptoms occurring in some people who is stressing out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the latest occurred just this week.  I have had a cough for over months now and I just haven't been able to kick it. I even woke up in the middle of the night with a slight chest pain. What else would I think it could be but tuberculosis?  I checked myself into the clinic here in and they ran a ton of tests, culminating in a chest x-ray.  Again, they found nothing.  In fact, the doctor said I have one of the healthiest sets of lungs he has ever seen and that my heart looks good.  Now that I look back on it, I wonder if he was hitting on me when he said, "Your heart is very trim and healthy."  So what was my diagnosis?  Persistent post-infection cough, which means I got sick a while back and haven't stopped and the only cure is to just wait it out.  This is great news considering flu season is just around the corner. So, to answer to the 'Why are you always coughing?' question that people have been asking me: Dont worry. Im fine. Its something 'normal'. The doctors said so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another news, Im still having this stupid cold. Its been 5 days now. Did i go to the clinic ? Take a guess. I dont trust doctors anymore. I know what exactly they will say to me. Then they will give me pills for three days that do nothing and make me come back to them to try another pill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They always say "early inspection is recommended before its too late", but they just never take you seriously in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113047353320104641?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113047353320104641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113047353320104641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/hypochondria.html' title='Hypochondria'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-113047193769601825</id><published>2005-10-27T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T21:33:41.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Koohii</title><content type='html'>Everybody knows that im not a morning person. So, to overcome this problem i started to drink coffee in the morning for breakfast. Boy-o-boy, now I'm addicted to coffee and become one of those people who cant start a day without a coffee. When i was a bit younger, i always tried to avoid sugar, caffein, tobacco and alcohol. We know they lead you faster to your funeral. I was happy that my body supported my 'pact' by always responding negative to those evil substances. I would normally be extremely nervous and shaky when i consume sugar and caffein. My skin would itch bad and it would also give me headache when i drink alcohol. Nauseous was what likely gonna happen when it comes to smoke/tobacco. But things seem to be a bit different now. I actually drink coffee in the morning and i dont get drunk any longer with alcohol, i even constantly drink red wine now in the night when im relaxing. Is it a bad sign that my body no longer respond negative to those bad stuff ? Or is it simply another package deal you have to face when you turn 25, as my crazy-but-always-right friend would likely to say ? But dont worry, i still cant stand excessive sugar (i sometimes dont even put sugar in my coffee), and i still hate cigarettes and think its a filthy habit. Yeah, maybe im just getting one step closer to being an old fart. Ever heard of 'otona no aji' (mature taste) ? Maybe thats what it is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another 'dou-demo-ii-ne!' (not worth hearing it; captive audience) from me. But hey, thats what this blog is all about in the first place, isn't it now ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-113047193769601825?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113047193769601825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/113047193769601825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/koohii.html' title='Koohii'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112978852572442943</id><published>2005-10-19T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T23:11:01.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch out !!</title><content type='html'>Siti is 'sick'. Her front tyre blewout, and i had to get new tyre. In case you dont know her, she is my gorgeous mountain bike. Dont even ask why i named her Siti, let's just say a crazy indonesian friend made me so. Anyway, with my &lt;em&gt;saifu daietto&lt;/em&gt; "wallet diet" (extremely careful with money, thats right, cheap ass) thing going on now, I decided to borrow a bike instead from my friend Bondie. Anyway, his bicycle almost look like a &lt;em&gt;mama chari&lt;/em&gt;, you know that old lady's bicycle with basket in the front for grocery shopping (&lt;em&gt;chari&lt;/em&gt; is a slang for bicycle). In japan, men have no problem with riding a bicycle that has a basket in the front ... not me though. I felt so embarassed riding it at the first days, but it gets better now. Well, what other choice i can have ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, his bicycle is also old and very hard to ride. Well, after a few days of riding, it was actually not bad at all.  That was, until the accident this morning.  I made it all the way on to campus without a single problem and I actually had a cheesy smile across my face because I no longer feel like a loser, riding cheap ass old mama chari, LOL. But, ah, I totally forgot about the wretched absent-minded pedestrian.  When I was almost to the bus stop (my campus is up on a mountain, far from civilization, so you have to pay 300 yen a day to take the bus. What a perfect rip off!), I came across four dumb dumb girls who were walking parallel to me in the same direction (so their backs are to me).  Then, OUT OF NOWHERE, the girl on the far left (the side closest to me) decided to START RUNNING into the space right in front of me.  I don't know why she did this.  I knocked her flat on her ass.  I felt SO horrible and she totally scraped up her arm, but at the same time I can't help laughing my ass off just thinking about it.  You always hear stories about the first time someone drives a car and then they wreck, but you just never think it could happen to you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am starting to get why people constantly honk when they think you aren't paying attention.  It's because most people aren't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to buy a bell. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Today's word is &lt;em&gt;puppuu&lt;/em&gt;. Honk honk. Watch out, scary-teeth bitch! LOL, Im mean. Btw, i friggin hate when people puppuu-ing me. You guys know, I have this issue with sudden loud noise. Just yell at me, i'll spontaneously shout and punch u in the head. LOL, yeah. Im scary. &lt;em&gt;Haaa, yare yare&lt;/em&gt; (Sigh).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112978852572442943?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112978852572442943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112978852572442943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/watch-out.html' title='Watch out !!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112900203272955117</id><published>2005-10-10T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-16T21:19:02.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Men's comb</title><content type='html'>I wanna ask every guy out there, how many of you own a comb ? My mother freaked out and almost bought me a comb when she knew that i never combed my hair. Do i need one ? I mean, i hardly see a guy combing his hair, unless he's wearing a tux and ready to put gel on his hair and pull it back. When i said to her "No, mother, i do have a comb" and show her my fingers on both hands, she just spinned her head, LOL. I miss you and all of your paranoid cuteness !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112900203272955117?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112900203272955117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112900203272955117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/mens-comb.html' title='Men&apos;s comb'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112900099426691137</id><published>2005-10-10T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T20:47:50.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toilet Paper Nazi</title><content type='html'>I usually set up my alarm clock around 7am to 8am during weekdays and saturdays. I usually wake up so late on sunday to recharge and pay off the normal hours of sleep i didnt have that week. But, boy-o-boy, there is never a quiet sunday morning at &lt;em&gt;sanjomachi&lt;/em&gt; (the area of sendai where i live now) when the melodic voice of this sweet, hard-working, peddler chimes through my window at a god awful hour. Being furious at being woke up, I'm not sure what he's howling, but I'm pretty sure it's somewhere along the lines of "Be the first to exchange your old newspapers for one of my fresh toilet paper roll!" On one of my lucky sundays, he would have gotten up late and I wouldn't hear him until 7:30AM.  Unfortunately, this man is one of the "early bird gets the worm" mindset, so 6:30AM is the norm.  Yes, you got me right---6:30AM!!!!!  Who the hell needs toilet paper that early? No, actually who the hell needs to get rid of their old newspaper that early?? It's Sunday, the God's day! So just go to sleep and don't disturb God on sunday mornings! &lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's true that i dont set up my alarm clock on sunday, but with a friendly neigborhood peddler Nazi wailing at full lung capacity and a bunch of junior high school students (my abode is right next to a JHS's baseball court) yelling and shit while practicing baseball (seriously, do they need to do that ???), who needs to turn off their alarm clocks on sundays?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112900099426691137?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112900099426691137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112900099426691137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/toilet-paper-nazi.html' title='Toilet Paper Nazi'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112858835523621429</id><published>2005-10-06T01:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T23:14:49.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret Identity</title><content type='html'>Charisma Man is a hilarious comic strip from a monthly &lt;em&gt;gaijin&lt;/em&gt; (foreigner) rag in Japan. It revolves around a geeky unattractive white wimp who beautiful J-girls find gorgeous, irresistible and a gorgeous super-hero type hunk, solely on the basis of his being white.  His arch enemy is the western woman because she always sees it as it is and has no qualms about speaking out; thus, humiliating him back to reality. The joke (or maybe sad truth) is that unattractive white guys come to Asia and instantly become popular with the women, many morphing into jerks.&lt;br /&gt;It's true though, many eyesores come here and instantly become players and act like super heroes. I'll leave the comics to speak for the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/May.jpg" width=420/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/December.jpg" width=420/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/January.jpg" width=420/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/February.jpg" width=420/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/March.jpg" width=420/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/April.jpg" width=420/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/June.jpg" width=420/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is &lt;em&gt;Kakko-ii&lt;/em&gt;, means cool or handsome. Im trying to remember when was the last time I've been called &lt;em&gt;Kakko-ii&lt;/em&gt; (as in, almost never!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112858835523621429?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112858835523621429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112858835523621429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/secret-identity.html' title='Secret Identity'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112826216648950273</id><published>2005-10-02T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T07:09:26.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blood Types and Personality</title><content type='html'>Most of Japanese - i think all of them - apparently, buy into the idea of blood type determining personality.  I had heard of this phenomenon before, but it wasn't until I was called "psycho" for being AB+ that I felt it necessary to go look all this mumbo-jumbo up again.  I guess I shouldn't feel so bad because I think what the person (type O) who called me psycho really meant to say was unpredictable.  I happen to think this person is just really into name-calling, since this person called my friend a playboy (he is type B) without really knowing anything about him at all.  Here is something I pulled from some anime geek on the internet to help explain it all:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type A have a deep-rooted strength that helps them stay calm in a crisis when everyone else is panicking. However, they tend to avoid confrontation, and feel very uncomfortable around people. A types are shy and sometimes withdrawn. They seek harmony and are very polite, but all the same feel that they never really fit in with others. A types are very responsible. If there is a job to be done, they prefer to take care of it themselves. These people crave success and are perfectionists. They are also very creative, and the most artistic of all the blood types, most likely because of their sensitivity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type A are also likely to be considered classic "type A's": stressed and conscientious. In anime, people like Hotohori are type A's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Third Hokage, Haruno Sakura, Hotohori, Heero Yui, Keiko (Kayko) Yukimura &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type B&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type B are the most practical of the blood groups. They are specialists in what they do. When they start a project, they spend extra time understanding and trying to follow directions than others might. When they are doing something, all of their attention is focused on it. They tend to stick to a goal and follow it through to the end, even if it seems impossible. They tend to be less than cooperative, as they like to follow their own rules and their own ideas. They are individualists. B type people pay attention to their thoughts a little more than their feelings, and therefore can sometimes seem cold and serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type B are often considered more relaxed, freewheeling, and unconventional than other types, although not necessarily to an unacceptable degree. In anime, the genki, off-the-wall types are type B, along with any kind of well-intended character who's ruled by their impulses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naruto, Duo Maxwell, Miaka, Nuriko, Tasuki, Sagara Sanosuke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type O people are outgoing, energetic and social. They are the most flexible of the blood types. They easily start up projects but often have trouble following through because they give up easily. They are flighty and not too dependable. O types always say what's on their mind. They value the opinion of others and like to be the center of attention. Also, people with O blood are extremely self-confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type O, the most "average" blood type, is considered the best type in Japan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quatre, Sailor Moon, Saito Hajime, Kamiya Kaoru, Tamahome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type AB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with blood type AB are hard to categorize. They can have characteristics on both ends of the spectrum at the same time. For instance, they are both shy and outgoing. They easily switch from one opposite to another. AB people are trustworthy and responsible, but can't handle it when too much is asked of them. They don't mind doing favors or helping out, as long as its on their own conditions. People with this blood type are interested in art and metaphysics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AB is considered THE WORST BLOOD TYPE. In predictability-loving Japan, they're loose cannons. They also like to set their own conditions and reserve the right to drop out when things don't meet their expectations. They're known to be sensitive and considerate｡ｪat times｡ｪbut it just isn't enough to balance out the flaws in this blood type. For a while, some companies tried dividing their employees into work groups based on blood type, and no one wanted to work with the AB group. Anime villains are likely to be type AB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uchiha Sasuke, Hongo Yui, Tomo, Trowa Barton, Kenshin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A is most compatible with A and AB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B is most compatible with B and AB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AB is most compatible with AB, B, A, and O.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O is most compatible with O and AB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea that blood type determines personality has been dying out slowly in Japan. At the same time, the West has finally noticed the potential of blood typing. We haven't quite cottoned onto the idea that blood type is related to personality, but there's a growing belief in fad diets that teach that each blood type evolved at a certain point in human history, so people with that blood type should eat the diet most common among humans at that point. Instead of balanced, nicely average O's, we have savage cavemen hunching around the fire and tearing at hunks of meat; solid-citizen type A's become "docile vegetarians" as well; bouncy type B's get to indulge in ice cream and cheese; and type AB's, as always, are half one thing and half another, and get to eat vegan food or dairy-and-everything-else｡ｪIF it suits them. Blood type diets are worth looking into if only to imagine your favorite characters' reactions to their new diets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112826216648950273?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112826216648950273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112826216648950273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/10/blood-types-and-personality.html' title='Blood Types and Personality'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112617051221953161</id><published>2005-09-08T02:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-08T02:08:32.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NB</title><content type='html'>Got a load of comment spam within minutes of posting the below, so have turned on word verification - note when posting comments. Hope this doesn't inconvenience you too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112617051221953161?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112617051221953161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112617051221953161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/09/nb.html' title='NB'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112615514111845264</id><published>2005-09-07T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T21:59:26.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rain in Spain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="clear:both;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img width=100 align="left" style="margin-right:10px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/myfairlady.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I've just finished watching My Fair Lady. See, if you know me then u will think that something must be wrong knowing me watching this kinda movie. But, there you you go. Anyway, after watching the film, I thought about how Hollywood has reused the common theme of taking an under-privileged person who's rough around the edges and transforming that person into a jewel of high-society. Pygmalion was the basis of My Fair Lady, but it was by no means the originator of this common theme. The Prince and the Pauper, Oliver Twist, and that Bible story involving Charlton Heston and the Ten Commandments comes to mind. More recently, we've had Pretty Woman, Vanity Fair, and White Girls . This theme has even been extended to the teen dramedies of a geek turning into a stud/prom queen ala Princess Diaries, She's All That, Can't Buy Me Love, etc. When is this lack of original ideas ever going to end? Being a teen geek is hardly an epidemic that Hollywood should spend millions on for film production. I say, if they're going to keep milking this tired theme, why not make it a little more controversial. In that 80s TV show, Different Strokes, a rich white man, Mr. Drummond, adopted two black kids from Harlem. Mr. Drummond was made out to be this savior who pulled those children out of the depths from whence they came. Of course, this is no different than tossing change to a homeless person. There's that old saying about teaching someone fishing to survive instead of just feeding them once; well, Mr. Drummond should have taught those kids to speak. "Wudjatokkin 'bout Willis," frightfully bolts to mind. I don't care how privileged or educated you are: if you start speaking ebonics, it's all downhill from there. I think it is absolutely revolting to hear the "N" word; yet, kids use it like it's cool and fashionable. Why has this hateful and degrading racial slur become so hip? I am confounded by why so many Whites, Blacks, Hispanics, and Asians still choose to speak in unintelligible hip-hop ebonics. Even Bill Cosby is disgusted by today's black youth culture. In a positive twist on this theme, I give Hollywood credit for Trading Places. Not only did Eddie Murphy's character consciously consider what came out of his mouth, he chose to learn from his improved environment and applied his new knowledge toward success he could have only dreamt about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112615514111845264?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112615514111845264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112615514111845264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/09/rain-in-spain.html' title='The Rain in Spain'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112615484865049603</id><published>2005-09-07T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T22:09:29.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gummy Brained</title><content type='html'>&lt;img width=50 align="left" style="margin-right:10px;" src="http://x9f.xanga.com/85cb27053543212178199/b1622996.gif" /&gt;Some people prefer to eat popcorn or potato chips while watching TV, but I usually choose gummy fruit. I have just finished a bag of gummy apple from a 88 yen shop and have a stomachache. It would be nice if I could discipline myself to just eat 3 or 4 at a time, but it never seems to be the case.  I first encountered this delectable mush of a candy when I was 9 years old.  My mother would bring it home from her office.  I'm not sure who she got/bought it from, but I knew she bought it at school.  It was then that I was introduced to the original Haribo gummy bears from Germany, and it was love at first squish.  As an adult, I would buy gummy bears by the bucket at the candy factory, but eventually switched to gummy grapes, where I would gorge on two small bags at a time---of course, there was the occasional peach or orange gummy.  I have also had the distinct pleasure of sampling vegetable gummies (which I wouldn't even recommend to a vegetarian I didn't like).  Ironically, bubble gum, which requires the same bovine motion of its chewers' jaws as gummies, is something I've always detested.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112615484865049603?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112615484865049603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112615484865049603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/09/gummy-brained.html' title='Gummy Brained'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112442107812065416</id><published>2005-08-18T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T20:26:17.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I owe my mother</title><content type='html'>Now that I'm back to Sendai, I really cant help it that I miss my mother so much. I realized that she was sometimes a lot to take, but I do really owe her many. These are probably not the exact things that she may said in the past, but maybe are what your mother has said to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE. &lt;br /&gt;"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. &lt;br /&gt;I just finished cleaning." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My mother taught me RELIGION. &lt;br /&gt;"You better pray that will come out of the carpet." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL. &lt;br /&gt;"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. My mother taught me LOGIC. &lt;br /&gt;" Because I said so, that's why." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC. &lt;br /&gt;"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, &lt;br /&gt;you're not going to the store with me." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT. &lt;br /&gt;"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. My mother taught me IRONY. &lt;br /&gt;"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS. &lt;br /&gt;"Shut your mouth and eat your supper." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM. &lt;br /&gt;"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. My mother taught me about STAMINA. &lt;br /&gt;"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. My mother taught me about WEATHER. &lt;br /&gt;"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY. &lt;br /&gt;"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. &lt;br /&gt;Don't exaggerate!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE. &lt;br /&gt;"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION. &lt;br /&gt;"Stop acting like your father!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. My mother taught me about ENVY. &lt;br /&gt;"There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION. &lt;br /&gt;"Just wait until we get home." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING. &lt;br /&gt;"You are going to get it when you get home!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112442107812065416?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112442107812065416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112442107812065416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-owe-my-mother.html' title='I owe my mother'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112313636257807689</id><published>2005-08-03T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T05:48:38.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ittekimasu !</title><content type='html'>Finally, after 4 years! At midnight today, I will leave Sendai, head to Tokyo to attend this all-day-long seminar on friday. Then on saturday, I will catch a morning flight home. I will probably do not have much time to access internet whilst Im gone, since I will be very busy fulfilling my tummy's longtime demand on real food (after 4 years been fed with overprice-crappy-taste sh#t), so I thought I should get my little farewell post in quickly...&lt;br /&gt;Another news, i finally made my mission to go &lt;em&gt;omiyage&lt;/em&gt;-shopping yesterday. Bought some cute &lt;em&gt;kokeshi&lt;/em&gt; stuffs that my sisters requested, a pair of &lt;em&gt;geta&lt;/em&gt; for dad, and a really nice sensu (Japanese paper fan) for Mom. I was also going to buy her Kimono sandals but i wasnt sure if she will like it (or will wear them, lol). Last but not least, i also loaded my suitcase this morning with &lt;em&gt;hagi no shirabe&lt;/em&gt; and more of them! HHmmmm, oishii! Thank God my suitcase has already delivered to airport, otherwise i would already eat them. The good news is, now i finally can get rid of all those omiyage-thingy junk i have on my drawers, like key rings and other stuff. I will distribute them to anyone who will probably ask me for omiyage there, LOL!&lt;br /&gt;So, thanks to all of you who always somehow check my 'Dou de mo ii ne !' posting out. Next time you hear from me, I will be safely home or back in Sendai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Til then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112313636257807689?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112313636257807689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112313636257807689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/ittekimasu.html' title='Ittekimasu !'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112296859342694379</id><published>2005-08-02T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T01:23:27.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eikaiwa privates</title><content type='html'>On my way to school yesterday, I bumped into Ozeki, an old friend of mine who was also my first english private, or may I say a guy who is stupid enough to pay me some money to get some English lessons. Privates are what you call students who want man-to-man lessons in their home or at a coffee shop. Anyway, he moved to fukuoka three years ago due to his work, and he's in town for a business trip.&lt;br /&gt;Let me share some story about this ozeki guy. I met him through a friend and after a couple of hanging outs he asked me to give him an english private lesson and I reluctantly took the offer (despite of my crappy-questionable english). I enjoyed my free evenings back then and never felt that desperate a need for more yen. Then I found out what the job entailed and the amount of yen for the bang (get your mind out of the gutter). I could get more if I traveled a bit, but he always picked me up with his car. Anyway, ozeki, my private, was a nice, albeit forgetful student with horrible pronunciation. In our first lesson I asked him to make a sentence using "I used to...but now I..." He replied with, "I used to love wife but now I hate wife." How do I respond to that? I tried to get him to explain, but he didn't have the vocabulary or the grammar know how to elaborate.  I realized the formidable task in front of me and hoped to pawn this guy off to another real-native-speaker teacher. I stuck it out and he's gradually putting complete sentences together. Japanese are very unfamiliar with American-English slang, so even great speakers can't understand much of the dialogue in the movies. I make it a point to teach them slang and idioms because textbook grammar is very different from spoken English. A couple weeks later, I taught him the word-family of bitch...(bitchy, bitching, bitch-vb.&amp;n.). He finally found the vocabulary he needed to describe his wife. He gleefully said, "I hate the bitch because she is always bitching."  Finally, a breakthrough. Seeing results was bitchin' !!!  When we met the other night, he was thanking me for previously teaching him the word --- BULLSHIT.  He said he's been watching American movies and whenever he hears bullshit, the Japanese subtitles have a completely different meaning. Please let me know of any other useful words I can add to my other japanese friends's lexicon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112296859342694379?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112296859342694379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112296859342694379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/eikaiwa-privates.html' title='Eikaiwa privates'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112295855456543769</id><published>2005-08-01T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T01:25:24.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mesmerizing Matsushima</title><content type='html'>Since there's a possibility i cant go to the hanabi (fireworks) festival in matsushima this year, i would like to promote Matsushima as a tourist destination while in sendai (something i normally won't do). Matsushima is about half an hour by train from Sendai.  This town is hyped as one of the three most beautiful views in Japan (Lord knows how they came up with this stuff). I have been there two times. It was beautiful, but the tagline to Matsushima is a bit of a stretch.  The town must have paid billions of yen to the Japan National Tourist Association to have this superlative attached. Judge for yourself from the photos: (two pictures courtesy of IPT :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/matsushima_bridge.jpg" width=200/&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/matsushima_boat.jpg" width=200/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/matsushima_2.jpg" width=200/&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/matsushima.jpg" width=200/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only reason for me to go to matsushima again, is for the fireworks. The big event this year will be held on August 15th (the same day I'll be back to Sendai from home). Last year i went with some of my indonesian friends, and the crowd was massive. There was great people watching, but unfortunately, I kept seeing the same faces during the one hour it took to get on the train uptown. The town was pretty dead that night because of the fireworks extravaganza, but we didn't have any problem finding fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112295855456543769?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112295855456543769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112295855456543769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/mesmerizing-matsushima.html' title='Mesmerizing Matsushima'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112295729634183656</id><published>2005-08-01T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T21:37:36.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gyutan galore</title><content type='html'>The most recent addiction to food that i have is &lt;em&gt;gyutan&lt;/em&gt;. Actually I've been loving this meal forever. Sendai is famous for gyutan, or in English, cow tongue.  I had it every day the first day i moved to sendai and I know i will miss it dearly next year when i move out the city.  The standard gyutan meal is served with rice (with barley mixed in), pickled cabbage, and ox-tail soup.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/gyutan.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a history to why Sendai is so famous for this cuisine.  During the American occupation after World War II, the locals here were very hungry because of the limited rations.  When the soldiers had cows butchered, they always discarded the tongues (&amp; probably tails) in the street. To the people, there was no way in hell those tongues were going to waste.  Hence, this delicious dish that all of Japan knows is best served in Sendai was created.  If you think about it, they really knew how to turn adversity to triumph.  I mean, can you imagine trying to serve tongue and tail as cuisine in your country ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112295729634183656?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112295729634183656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112295729634183656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/gyutan-galore.html' title='Gyutan galore'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112289755885498531</id><published>2005-08-01T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T21:13:54.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yukata quest</title><content type='html'>Yup, another summer in sendai. Time for hanabi (firework), which i would like to say the largest annual summer event in Japan. Time to find a nice yukata to wear for the festivals. On my way to school from the hospital today, i managed to go yukata shopping. The one I really wanted cost 30,000 yen, plus 7000 yen for an obi (waist belt). Quite an expense for something I'd rarely wear. No, actually i would have considered myself as mentally unstable if i really had bought it for that price. I opted to buy a jinbei, kind of looks like short pants pajamas and is just as common on men as yukatas at festivals. The young salesgirl had a panic attack when I acted like I was going to change pants on the salesfloor by grabbing my zipper. She was very relieved when I told her "joudan, joudan" (just kidding). Anyway, the one i like was more than 10,000 yen. So I ended up buying nothing today, LOL! Of course there was a cheap polyester one that can be had for about 1000-2000 yen, but you'd probably lose friends due to horrendous body odor, or die from a heat stroke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is 'mushi mushi'. Humid. The verb is &lt;em&gt;mushi mushi suru&lt;/em&gt;. A hot day with 64% humidity like today is another &lt;em&gt;mushi mushi suru&lt;/em&gt; day in sendai.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112289755885498531?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112289755885498531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112289755885498531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/yukata-quest.html' title='Yukata quest'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112289639553566898</id><published>2005-08-01T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T04:39:55.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Psychic treatment</title><content type='html'>It's been a long time since the last time i posted, but I had gotten sick. I had a few panic attacks, which really managed to freak me out since the doctor suspected that i might have a panic disorder. Thanks to Boo2, CBB, PA for taking care of me. I was flat on my back for a week or so. I did a bunch of lab tests today which include urine, blood, hormone and ECG/EKG. I need to go back to the hospital on wednesday to get the result. I'm pretty sure nothing is wrong, though. I just still can't get my head round how damn expensive the medical expensive in this country. I was about to get another panick attack when my hospital bill says ichi man en today, LOL! Thanks to the marvelous system my university provides to cover the 80% of the money i've paid to the hospital.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112289639553566898?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112289639553566898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112289639553566898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/08/psychic-treatment.html' title='Psychic treatment'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112054424511797309</id><published>2005-07-04T23:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T23:20:01.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Racist bastards</title><content type='html'>If you were not a racist then you'll just a piece of rude crap. &lt;br /&gt;I confronted my japanese friend, well a japanese guy at lab the other day when he called someone who is gay a 'homo'. It's like calling Japanese people 'nips' or afro-americans 'nigger'. In daily conversation, japanese people use lots of borrowed English. However, these loan words are adapted to Japanese asensibilities, so the real nuance may take a flying leap. In fact, you can often chuck the original meaning altogether. Another example is in japanese we will call a biracial person a 'half'. Its not just with japanese people actually. Some of my foreign student Indonesian friends, who attend the grad school and highly well educated, also refer a gay person a 'homo'. I mean, hello people, ever heard of PC ? Ans: It's right over there on the desk. No, 'politically correct', you BAKA !!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112054424511797309?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112054424511797309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112054424511797309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/07/racist-bastards.html' title='Racist bastards'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112054008681573306</id><published>2005-07-04T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T01:38:15.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Umbrella Condom</title><content type='html'>Thank God, the rain clouds has moved forward to east, which means the rain has stopped today and i dont have to worry about getting wet like a stupid puppy. The rain can be a pain in one's ass if you have to ride your bike to school. At least you can expect a cool breezy air from such weather, but with the humidity like this in Sendai ? Forget it. You'll still be sweating like a pig.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I notice something interesting on rainy days here. Supermarkets here provide the customer plastic 'condoms' for your umbrellas and you're supposed to put one of those over your umbrellas before entering the supermarket on rainy days. I know i dont have to ask you to use your imagination why i named it 'plastic condom'. Key words : a long narrow plastic bag and the drip water :P). The thing is, umbrella condoms epitomize the Japanese love of cleanliness and convenience. But you'll notice that virtually everyone grabs a fresh one, even though the disgarded ones are only as dirty as the rain that fell on someone else's umbrella! Nobody feel like they are trashing the environment. What gives ?! Well, I guess you wouldn't reuse the other kind of condom, now would you ? 'One-time' holds for any kind of condom :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today’s keyword is “bishobisho”. Soaked. That's me having biked 20 minutes to school in the humid Sendai morning. God damn in, when will this humid hot days will end!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112054008681573306?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112054008681573306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112054008681573306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/07/umbrella-condom.html' title='Umbrella Condom'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-112002857271399498</id><published>2005-06-28T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T00:02:52.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fat Loss Diet</title><content type='html'>So, i havent officially started the Gain Mass Diet Program i was talking about the other day. I still have to figure out some stuff like things i need to buy, a 24-hour schedule, meal plans and excercise program at gym. The main reason is because i need to stick to the schedule once i started. According to the physician, CONSTANCY is the key to the success of this program. Anyway, so he told me that my body fat percentage is about 20%, which is not good at all. Average men's body fat is around 20%-25% while women's is lying on 25%-30%. Apparently im the type of what they call it 'fat-skinny'. My friend weighs around 220 lbs but has almost the same body fat as me, the skinny-fat 130 lbs boy. So first i have to lose my fat body until it goes to around 10-12% before starting the whole gain mass thing, which means i have to do the "fat loss diet" first then move to the "mass diet". There's not much different between these two, except i have to eat more protein and watch all the carbs and fatty food plus working out 3 times a week. Pheww! I also have found the supplements and MRP (meal replacement protein powder) i need to buy. So, i decided to start the program slowy since last weekend. Take a look at my meal plan for today :&lt;br /&gt;07:00AM = 5 white eggs + 3 whole eggs + 2 croissants + juice&lt;br /&gt;10:00AM = Cheese+Avocado+milk&lt;br /&gt;13:00PM = Sirloin steak + potatoes + broccoli + carrots&lt;br /&gt;16:00PM = MRP (which is about 180kcal and 35gram protein)&lt;br /&gt;19:00PM = Chicken breast + rice + tofu + tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;22:00PM = 4 white eggs + 2 whole eggs + apple&lt;br /&gt;I just finished my 4th meal. The new issue now is ... Can u imagine how much money i actually need to spend in a month on food ?! I mean, the MRP itself cost me 735 yen per sachet !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's mood is 'bochi bochi'. Bit by bit. How do you feel today ? &lt;em&gt;bochi bochi&lt;/em&gt;, means not that good and just same shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-112002857271399498?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112002857271399498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/112002857271399498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/fat-loss-diet.html' title='Fat Loss Diet'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111992888274679502</id><published>2005-06-27T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T20:24:54.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kizu tsuichau yo T.T</title><content type='html'>For those who dont know me, they might think im a rude creature. For those who do, they know im just a sarcastic person. Although it has become to my knowledge that this whole sarcasm thing on me can lead to hurting people (again, i never intend to hurt anybody). This can be triggered by my latest frolic last night. A couple walked pass and hit me on the street that caused me drop my bag. They just looked at me for a sec without even bother to say "sumimasen". What were they thinking ? They clearly saw me. There's no way in hell you hit somebody when u see them, unless you're blind. I was so pissed with their i-owe-no-apology-to-you rudeness that i said to them : "Get a fuckin' blind dog!" &lt;br /&gt;I might have been wrong to say that, but what's a semi-polite boy to do? I always feel compelled to give people here some impromptu lessons in etiquette when I'm confronted with rudeness. Boo2 always complain that people always stare at her and the level has reached to rudeness. I said to her, just stare back, and see how they like it. Cause it happened to me all the time how i dont realize what i do wrong to people until someone do the same thing to me. Or just say to them : "Why dont u just take a picture" or "Do you want me to send you my picture from keitai ?"&lt;br /&gt;LOL, Get a blind dog. What the hell was i thinking ?! I laugh at myself when i remember i actually say that (which is a kinda hilarious phrase)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is "peko peko". I just ate an hour ago, but yet i'm still peko2. Another word is "ganbatte ne". Despite i hate the idea of saying "ganbatte kudasai" to people when the actual words you're looking for is "good luck", I would like to say ganbatte ne to boo2 on her hectic days heading to big happyo. (&lt;em&gt;Ganbatte kudasai&lt;/em&gt; literally means 'please do your best'. Picture your self in tense, and people screaming at you 'please do your best !!!' How's that doesnt annoy you ?! Of course Im doing my best, bitch !! )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111992888274679502?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111992888274679502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111992888274679502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/kizu-tsuichau-yo-tt.html' title='kizu tsuichau yo T.T'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111953941128700444</id><published>2005-06-23T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T22:21:39.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ATSUUUUIIIIIII !!!!!</title><content type='html'>Frustation. So two weeks of exhausting days at school while im trying to gain some weight ... bam, i lost some weight now. How annoying!&lt;br /&gt;On top of that...June Gloom has hit Sendai.  You wonder why the Japanese are so anal and then you realize that even the weather is on a schedule for them. I remember, May the weather was amazing and people were getting to the cafe-type restaurants earlier and earlier...come June it was hot, humid, felt like rain and basically had the full June Gloom in effect.  On my run with my bike today I was really hot, and trying to cool down with the humidity like this?  Forget it.  So basically it is A/C time now in Sendai and very soon the bugs will hit town as well.  Time to find an excuse to get out of town!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is 'beta beta'. You know that feeling when you're sweating like a bastard ? You're beta beta. Ewww !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111953941128700444?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111953941128700444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111953941128700444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/atsuuuuiiiiiii.html' title='ATSUUUUIIIIIII !!!!!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111934070500263413</id><published>2005-06-21T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T08:11:56.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ZoMbIE</title><content type='html'>I began to think of all the crazy, cool, exciting things that I have done in my life and started to feel very lucky.  On a day-to-day basis, I suppose life is generally pretty boring and routine, but every once in a while you get to do something cool to make it exciting and those are the stories you tell over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;So I'll be a year older soon in two months (F*#% !), another milestone has passed, and life seems to just be plugging along.  I'm not complaining about my life, just mentioning that even a totally amazing life can become routine if you don't recognize it for the amazing opportunity it is and accept every challenge that comes forward.  Now I'm philosophizing about old age...ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, i feel like shit today. I've been up for almost 36 hours straight now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111934070500263413?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111934070500263413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111934070500263413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/zombie.html' title='ZoMbIE'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111924726528143909</id><published>2005-06-19T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T23:05:30.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metrosexual or simply lunatic ?!</title><content type='html'>I bumped into an old friend, whom i saw the last time half a year ago, on the way to seikyo. He was asking me if i just got back from Hawaii because i somehow have tanned skin now. I have no idea why. Summer hasnt arrived yet so its not from the sun. I remember that my ex told me the other day how when we were still dating, i also had those times when i just turn dark with no reason. Anyway, a TV program last night said that when you're exhausted, stressed or depressed, it will stimulate your body to produce more melanin and thats how your get the tan. Make sense. Kinda a signal from your body that says 'Hey, let me rest a bit'. Other news is i have vividly discovered that my body hair grows like crazy now. My friend told me that its a normal sign from your body when you turn 25. He also told me that my body metabolism will start slowing down now. Its like a package deal. (Although, i highly doubt it the latter will actually happen). That Im actually freaking out with these things ... what creature i have become ?? Why should a guy care too much ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111924726528143909?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111924726528143909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111924726528143909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/metrosexual-or-simply-lunatic.html' title='Metrosexual or simply lunatic ?!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111891048100446491</id><published>2005-06-16T01:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T01:36:50.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I sometimes cant understand this country ...</title><content type='html'>To further cross-cultural understanding (but mostly to further my personal quest of fixing understanding of the word "irony" after Alanis screwed it up for everyone) I'm compiling a list of funny little ironies I notice about Japanese society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It is an extremely environmentally conscious society - so you have to sort trash into different bins: trash which can be burned (including plastic) and trash which can be thrown into the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The climate shifts radically from extremely hot summers to extremely cold winters, but most houses aren't insulated. Heat and air conditioning practically do as much for the exterior of your house as the interior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Most houses (but thankfully not mine) are heated with kerosene-powered space heaters. They produce carbon monoxide, so you have to periodically open the windows and recirculate all the air to keep from asphyxiating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The entire Japanese culture was vegetarian with extremely strict laws against eating meat until the US occupation. (Apparently fish were still ok, and wild boars were considered "mountain whales", another 'fish', so you could eat them, too) Still, the concept of not eating meat is foreign and confusing to almost everyone, though there are obviously people alive today who lived under the "no meat" laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The Japanese take extremely good care of their teeth. All my coworkers even brush after lunch. Students are required to brush after school lunches. Still, Austin Powers has better teeth than every Japanese person I've met so far. Yellowed, misshapen, cavity-full and crooked teeth are the norm, along with really bad breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Wherever I go abroad, I couldn't turn around without tripping over a pile of Japanese tourists. The Germans even had a joke that with so many people squished onto such a small place in Marienplatz in Munich, at least half of the population had to be on vacation at all times, or else the island would sink. Upon getting here, I found out that Japanese workers rarely take vacation, and when they do, most of them come to work at the regular time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Every inch of Japan is spotless - so you'd expect the beaches to be clean, too. They are, however, horrendously disgusting, with as much trash as sand. Of course, this garbage was not created by the Japanese themselves - ask anyone, and they'll tell you that it's Korean garbage that floated over. Why, then, is all the writing on everything in Japanese, and not in Korean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-cut-&lt;br /&gt;Im too tired to journey back so i can put some more on the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111891048100446491?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111891048100446491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111891048100446491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/why-i-sometimes-cant-understand-this.html' title='Why I sometimes cant understand this country ...'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111890983344380421</id><published>2005-06-16T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T01:28:13.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Engrish</title><content type='html'>For those who don't know, 'Engrish' is the name commonly given to poorly translated or outright ridiculous attempts at English, commonly found on lots of Japanese products, signs, posters, etc. They are everywhere. Just this morning, i saw a girl wearing a tight t-shirt that says : "I Chicken Fucker. Be Happy" Whats going on with this country and its people ??? Take a look at these &lt;a href="http://www.engrish.com/category_index.php?category=Signs/Posters"&gt;crazy posters/signs&lt;/a&gt; spotted randomly in Japan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, im exhausted and I barely slept these days. Today's word is : nukunuku. You know that feeling...? When you hear the alarm clock braying and you have to leave the warm, comfortable, snuggly cocoon of your bed in order to get up and go to work whilst you only slept for 4 hours or so. You've just been ripped away from being wonderfully nukunuku!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111890983344380421?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111890983344380421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111890983344380421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/engrish.html' title='Engrish'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111865551828834854</id><published>2005-06-13T02:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-13T02:44:49.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Masseur(X) - Masseuse(O)</title><content type='html'>I went to a massage place yesterday cause my neck had been really killing me. For one reason, when i go to a massage place, i prefer a woman to be doing it for me. I dont know if its just me or not, but I can't have a man touching me. I just wouldn't be comfortable, even though if he'd just be touching my back. It still could get sexual. What if something happens? What if it felt good? Im not some kinda homophobia or something, not at all, but does this sound totally normal or im just being weird about this whole trivial issue ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.sport-unna.de/imgs/pinwand/grafik_seiten/massage.gif"/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of homophobia, what causes homophobia? What is it that makes a heterosexual man worry? I&lt;br /&gt;think it's because men know that deep down we have weak sales resistance. We're&lt;br /&gt;constantly buying shoes that hurt us, pants that don't fit right. Men think,&lt;br /&gt;"Obviously I can be talked into anything. What if I accidentally wander into&lt;br /&gt;some sort of homosexual store, thinking it's a shoe store, and the salesman&lt;br /&gt;goes, 'Just hold this guy's hand, walk around the store a little bit, see how&lt;br /&gt;you feel. No obligation, no pressure, just try it. Would you like to see him&lt;br /&gt;in a sandal?'"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111865551828834854?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111865551828834854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111865551828834854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/masseurx-masseuseo.html' title='Masseur(X) - Masseuse(O)'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111840220238911863</id><published>2005-06-10T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T04:19:45.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diet .... crap !</title><content type='html'>Do u guys believe in karma ? This posting has got nothing to do with that, but i'd like to deeply apologize to anyone whom i always making fun of when they have to worry about how many calories they've consumed that day before taking a bite of a cake, or check the nutrition list on the back of every product they buy. Boy, have i had no idea that now i have to do the same thing. Let me journey back. I went to see my physician a couple days ago to consult on my weight issue. Anyway, he suggested me to go on a diet. First, knowing how skinny i am, i was like "I'm sorry, i dont understand what you are just saying". He laughed at me and then told me about "Mass Gain Program". Diet means you control what you eat, not how much amount you eat. I can eat like a pig but it doesnt help and is not healthy at all. It doesnt matter how much calories i eat, what matters is what i eat. So he told me that now i have to eat 3000 calories a day with the balance of 40% protein, 30% carbs and 30% fat. He also came up with a weekly meal plan i can refer to. The good news is now i have to eat 6 times a day every 3 hours. I also now eat 6 eggs in the morning (3 whole egss+3 white eggs). Wow, whats the bad news ?!&lt;br /&gt;By the way, now that i have to check and calculate the nutrition balance i eat ... does anyone know that CalorieMate bars have 28% of fat ?? Those bastards !!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111840220238911863?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111840220238911863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111840220238911863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/diet-crap.html' title='Diet .... crap !'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111794600312797599</id><published>2005-06-04T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T19:19:01.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Massacre</title><content type='html'>Boy-o-boy. I went to a sushi bar last night and i ate 24 plates of sushi!! FYI, each plate has 2 pieces of shushi. Can u imagine ? Thats a lot of slaughtering fish situation going on back there ne! Gomen nasai m(_ _)m sakana sama. Osewa ni narimashita. My favorite is toro. Toro is the prime cut from a tuna's neck.  It was the most expensive thing on the menu at 750 yen a piece. My friend and I ordered 2 pieces each without realizing the price. It was delicious and melted in our mouths. Last night we also had basashi, which is horse meat, for the first time. Before you regurgitate your lunch, it actually tastes like sweet, raw beef. Quite a delicacy, I must say. Speaking of killing fish, i have a friend whose friend is such an annoying vegetarian bitch. She glared at me cause i was wearing leather jacket and she started telling me off the whole story about suffered animal behind it. First i was just giving my palm to her and let her talk to it, cause it was like "Dare?!" but then i said to her : &lt;br /&gt;A:"Yeah, nice story. Thanks. Do you eat fish?" &lt;br /&gt;B:"Yeah, now and then" &lt;br /&gt;A:"So why dont you save it and come back to me when u dont eat fish."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111794600312797599?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111794600312797599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111794600312797599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/massacre.html' title='Massacre'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111781047909936549</id><published>2005-06-03T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-03T07:57:30.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KICHIGAI</title><content type='html'>I have realized something that getting used to communicate in english more than my own mother tounge, the socialite I  am  can sometimes find myself socially inept  in Japan.  Not only that I dont have any japanese best friend, but I think partly because western humor is quite different.   I have gone to the movies  and been the only one laughing.   Everyone turns around and looks at me like I'm  a  cackling  madman.   Much of western humor is based on  joshing your friends.   Playfully  insulting others can be good fun, but  since much of Japanese society is based on  false modesty and politeness,  western humor  appears  very crass and confrontational.   In English, I can occasionally appear funny or witty with nicely timed  retorts; however, in Japanese because sometimes i dont have the perfect words to describe the joke, I must resort to silly  facial expressions or  out of place one word phrases to lighten the mood.  For example, my friends and I always use the word sukebe, which is a word used to describe a sleazy pervert.  We use the word in Japan like you'd use the word "trashy" in english.  This is a total misuse of Japanese and people are surprised that we would use such a harsh word to describe friends.  The actual word for  trash is GOMI.  It  is incomprehensible here to address someone by such a title.  Another  favorite is kichigai, which is one of the absolute taboo words in Japan (it's banned from TV).  It means insane.  Despite people becoming highly reactive and offended with the utterance of KICHIGAI, it is the perfect word to describe my life  here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111781047909936549?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111781047909936549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111781047909936549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/kichigai.html' title='KICHIGAI'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111780884669231168</id><published>2005-06-03T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-03T07:29:41.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blower's Daughter</title><content type='html'>And so it is &lt;br /&gt;Just like you said it would be&lt;br /&gt;Life goes easy on me&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time&lt;br /&gt;And so it is (he has)&lt;br /&gt;The shorter story&lt;br /&gt;No love, no glory&lt;br /&gt;No hero in her sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it is (he has)&lt;br /&gt;Just like you said it should be&lt;br /&gt;We'll both forget the breeze&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time&lt;br /&gt;And so it is (he has)&lt;br /&gt;The colder water&lt;br /&gt;The blower's daughter&lt;br /&gt;The pupil in denial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I say that I loathe you?&lt;br /&gt;Did I say that I want to&lt;br /&gt;Leave it all behind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind off of you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind off you&lt;br /&gt;I can't take my mind...&lt;br /&gt;My mind...my mind...&lt;br /&gt;'Til I find somebody new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By. Damien Rice&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111780884669231168?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111780884669231168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111780884669231168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/blowers-daughter.html' title='&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.warnerbrosrecords.com/damienrice/&quot;&gt;The Blower&apos;s Daughter&lt;/a&gt;'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111768764035178804</id><published>2005-06-01T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T22:11:45.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random snap of Sendai</title><content type='html'>Despite its rainy season in sendai, all department stores have already started to put yukata, the summer kimono, since last month as their must check items for shoppers. Summer is the festival season in Japan, and there's no shortage of yukata sightings during this season. Anyway, it wont begin for another 2 months, so im not going to worry about it now, but im thinking of getting one of those thing for me, im talking about a really nice one that i can keep forever. Men also wear yukata and actually looks very masculine in them. Quality ones go for around 10,000 yen. Here are the random J-girls wearing yukata that I snapped en route to one summer festival in matsushima (about a half hour train ride from sendai) last year. Take note of the Richard Nixon hand gestures. For some reason, Japanese have this uncontrollable reflex and an overwhelming desire for world peace when shown a camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/CIMG1237.jpg" width=400/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now lets talk about J-boys. When i take a look at random j-boys in sendai, I definetly relized that Japan's samurai &amp; kamikaze days are over! No longer are Japanese men fearless, suicidal warriors --- they've become J-girls. Even their pop stars are ultra-feminine (think David Bowie and Boy George having a Japanese love child).  The boys in the link below might be a prostitute, or male whore as they're called, catering exclusively to women---believe it or not .  Check out this link for even more displays of mass gender confusion and get back to me with your score: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.harmful.org/homedespot/newtdr/NEWtdrARCHIVE/games/popstarorhoe.htm#"&gt;tokyo damage report&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111768764035178804?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111768764035178804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111768764035178804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/random-snap-of-sendai.html' title='Random snap of Sendai'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111764069276014985</id><published>2005-06-01T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T18:28:23.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the-body-shop invation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.thebodyshop.com/"&gt;The Body Shop&lt;/a&gt; is one of my favorite brand. Nothing wrong about it, but i have just realized that being a guy i shopped there way too much. My friend bondie once told me "Dude, i dont know that the body shop has opened a branch at your bath room" when he came over at my place. Other friend told me that i should work for them, LOL! Anyway, just when i decided that i really should shop less there, they gave me a voucher i can exchange to any item for free! Amazing. I mean, it makes me trying to figure out how much money i have spent on them to be treated like the most VVIP costumer. The 2 girls who works there even address me by name now, LOL! Damn, they've really got a hold of me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111764069276014985?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111764069276014985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111764069276014985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/body-shop-invation.html' title='the-body-shop invation'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111760385289400291</id><published>2005-05-31T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T05:46:59.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ShinChan</title><content type='html'>Speaking of babies, look what i found on my old files. When I was still in osaka, I had like-a-family neighbor i frequently visited. These are the pictures of their babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/CIMG1222.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let these angelic faces fool you. When i visited their house i always want to play with them, and here is what they always did. Koushiro, the one on the left is the smartest, and one of the most charming japanese babies i've met. He sings his original baby talk songs. He has also perfected the art of relaxation at his young age. Instead of sitting down and watching a kid show on TV, he prefers to lie on the floor with his head propped on my lap. Ryusei, the one in the middle, is a SCREAMER! ... "MAMA, MAMA?!?!?!" He's only smiling because his mother asked him to. Quite a thespian, that one. He yells and screams all day, but when his mother comes to pick him up, he's all smiles and says, "I'm happy". Tetsuro, the one on the right, needs to be constantly held and is jealous of any attention i give to other babies. Yes, he's an absolute nightmare!&lt;br /&gt;I remember, one day in summer their mother took me to the Osaka Zoo with the babies. The zoo was not that impressive, and considering it was like 38 degree, not that enjoyable. Her mother thought she could use me to introduce eigo to their kids (Remember, kids are always the better learner) She kept saying, "doubutsu no namae wo eigo de oshieteagete goran" I felt like a caged gorilla forced to do tricks for bananas. Many of the animal names were written in Japanese, but I had no idea what to call this "antelope-looking" beast or that "monkey-looking" creature. I spent about 1000 yen on drinks in the 4 hours I was there just to keep from passing out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111760385289400291?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111760385289400291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111760385289400291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/shinchan.html' title='ShinChan'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111760073052136067</id><published>2005-05-31T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T03:04:13.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future Hunk</title><content type='html'>Some friends said "white babies are the cutest!". Some said "No no no, japanese babies are the cutest". But sorry you guys, i have to come up with a novel opinion. Despite that i think all babies are cute, i have to say this indonesian little cute bundle of joy is the cutest! Take a look at some of his picture here. Oooh, he's so cuute! I am the proudest "uncle" ever. I have pictures of Izzan all over my desk now.&lt;br /&gt;Izzan is one of my Indonesian friend's son in Sendai. He is a very energetic 2 yo kid that seems to just crawl all over everything these days with his unique curiousity. He never settles down when he is awake. He constantly is testing her mother patience lately by always wanting to go outside the house and play. Her mother kept complaining to me the other day how she's soo exhausted taking him to everywhere he wants to go and play. How could he's testing her mother's patience, LOL! I mean, look at him and those chubby cheeks. I just wanna eat them! Anyway, heere's the new plan : Im seriously thinking of kidnapping him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/P5050019_edited.jpg" width=300/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/P4040163_edited.jpg" width=200/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/P5080001_edited1.jpg" width=200/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/P4030154_edited.jpg" width=200/&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/6051/640/P4040156_edited.jpg" width=200/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111760073052136067?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111760073052136067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111760073052136067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/06/future-hunk.html' title='Future Hunk'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111751471264878675</id><published>2005-05-30T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T21:45:12.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On dating crap</title><content type='html'>So help me out here with your opinion. A good friend of mine came talk to me about his problem and was hoping for my opinion. So, what would you do if you're in his situation. You started to date a person -who has just broken up with his/her ex-partner a few days ago- and you had sex on the second date. Just a couple nights after the night, your date told you that he/she's going to spend a night over at his/her ex-partner, just a social visit, hanging-out kinda thing. My fave standing comedian Maja with her famous tone would probably say : "just a social visit?! Huuuhh ?!". I mean, you just broke up with your ex and its not even been a week. Why do you need to visit your ex and spend a night over, whilst you have a potential lover date whom u told "i really like you". Give me a break! I understand my friend was busy on weekend at lab so he couldnt spend it with this person. Yeah, so u need to do something instead, but why it has to be spending a night over at your ex who btw lives an hour and a half away from you to hang out with.  I would say "Aaanyway!". So, am i just the jealous posessive guy here who's just being totally irrational? I mean sorry, i just couldnt get what could be the possible reason of someone for doing that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111751471264878675?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111751471264878675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111751471264878675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/on-dating-crap.html' title='On dating crap'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111745638968385879</id><published>2005-05-30T05:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T21:39:57.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gadget maniac</title><content type='html'>I have fallen into the trap that marketing men set to make me feel outdated and unhip. When i was doing widow shopping with boo2, i found a gorgeous &lt;em&gt;keitai&lt;/em&gt; (cell phone) &lt;a href="http://www.sonyericsson.co.jp/product/docomo/premini/"&gt;sony ericsson premini&lt;/a&gt; but the vendor is Docomo (which means no 50% off deal for students like what AU have now). Let me journey u back to the history behind my keitai in sendai.&lt;br /&gt;When I came to sendai 5 years ago, I got the free phone that came with my calling plan. It was a practical relatively common phone for that time whose size made me proud (compared to my first keitai in 97 which i can use as a weapon to hit people at considering how freakishly huge it was). Two years after that i got my 3rd cellphone which made me proud because it was a cute little flip phone. Then I realized that I'm in Japan and there's so much more out there; especially when my friends were getting phones with much sharper pictures and has a camera on it (i mean, who hasnt?!) When one showed up with a phone that had a MP3 player, I was really jealous. And I'm not even a gadget and gizmo kind of guy (when it comes to money huehehe). Well, what's a person with an outdated phone to do? Yes, get a new one. About three months ago my cellphone was kinda broken. Well it was just the email service thing, that i could send out emails but couldnt receive any (okashii ne?) Anyway, they fixed it but the tempting tone selling lady was pursueing me to just get a new phone (from her look, she obviously thought its time two say jaa ne to my old fart looking keitai). So, I looked at many models and had a difficult time selecting the perfect match for me (well it could have been lots easier if i have extra yen coming out of my ascii). There was one with a TV that got my attention, but after much thought, I realized it's pointless to have a TV on my phone if I can't see what I'm watching with the tiny screen, and lets not start with the color (it was friggin pink!). So I opted for a black &lt;a href="http://www.au.kddi.com/seihin/kinobetsu/seihin/a1403k/"&gt;A1403K&lt;/a&gt; by Kyocera. What a beauty. It comes with the a 2.0 mega-pixels camera that has zoom. Pictures can be stored on the phone. It's the first phone on the market with a friendly design (they even got this talking assistance feature -for elderly, i suppose- that explains to you all the menu and features, what they do and stuff). One of the niftiest features is the talking dude (if i may call it so). It can tell you the time and who's called you or sent you voice message/SMS with just one touch. Perfect! Now i got all the beauty from a keitai that i've always wanted. Small grip size flip cute design with camera. But now i want the cute premini. I'll definitely get one next year since my student discount will finish by then. Yippee! I cant wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: boo2, isshoni kazoku wari ni hairou ne, yasuku dekiru kara, LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111745638968385879?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745638968385879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745638968385879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/gadget-maniac.html' title='Gadget maniac'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111745460496791563</id><published>2005-05-30T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T21:12:47.876-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blegug totoro</title><content type='html'>The most recent object of my affection will confirm to many that my last sane brain cell has fallen victim to the latest (fashionable) party enhancement, but please don't jump to conclusions. Once I explain, you too will be a smitten. I just discovered this critter and think he's the most kawaii (cutest) output from Japan in eons. (Hint: Boo is crazy about this eery creature hehe) He goes by the name of &lt;a href="http://www.totoro.org/" target="_new"&gt;Totoro&lt;/a&gt;. Once i was like big "aaanyway" but because of boo2, I've been desperately surfing the anime channels to see my latest obsession on the small screen with no success. Well, at least i have to be grateful it isnt hello kitty that is her major obsession in anime character. I really think it's time to that damn Hello Kitty pack her own bags and hitchhike to the infamous Retirement Home of Faded Cuties.&lt;br /&gt; What's your opinion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img width=50 align="left" style="margin-right:10px;" src="http://www.gifmania.it/Hello_Kitty/sanrio10.gif" /&gt;&lt;img width=50 style="margin-right:10px;" src="http://www.gifmania.it/Hello_Kitty/sanrio05.gif" /&gt;&lt;img width=50  style="margin-right:10px;" src="http://www.gifmania.it/Hello_Kitty/sanrio04.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111745460496791563?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745460496791563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745460496791563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/blegug-totoro.html' title='Blegug totoro'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111745350733416302</id><published>2005-05-30T04:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T04:45:07.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Important Unanswered Trivias in Life</title><content type='html'>So, i know im not the person who makes the first moves when it comes to dating. Whats your first moves guys/gals ? I want to know if men at bars are ever successful with confident women by winking  or  leering at them.  It's always shown in movies, but I can't imagine people actually putting it to practice.  It seems like a sure-fire way to get kicked to the curb.&lt;br /&gt;How about.... Hi!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111745350733416302?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745350733416302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745350733416302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/important-unanswered-trivias-in-life.html' title='Important Unanswered Trivias in Life'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111745230791785583</id><published>2005-05-30T04:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T04:29:08.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evil money sucker corporate machine (does this make sense at all ?! LOL)</title><content type='html'>So we all know that Microsoft and Oprah are both evil and actually have a secret plot to take over the world. But I have a new addition to my club of corporate dictators...Starbucks.&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in Starbucks one morning last month in tokyo because i had to check out my hotel room and my interview wasn't for another 2 hours. Found two Starbucks within about 4 blocks of the hotel so obviously no problems with selection. Decided against the first because I accidentally knocked into a lady on the way in (who obviously didn't have her caffeine fix yet) and she nearly killed me with a look even though I apologized profusely. So I moved to the second where I sat for approximately 75 minutes. During that time I would guess the average line was 25 people. There were 25 people lined up, basically out the door, waiting to get their morning dose of average coffee. I'm not a coffee drinker, but what gives? Seriously people, they are just controlling our minds. There is not a single person reading this blog right now who doesn't know how to order their favorite drink to the exacting specifications of their local barista. Break out people! Support your local coffee house. Don't be one of the mindless drones. Don't let Starbucks run the world.&lt;br /&gt;I just hope Microsoft and Starbucks haven't joined together in some major conspiracy that will keep this post from actually reaching the outside world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I'm addicted to their frappucino. I cant resist not to spend my yen there. At this minute, i've just realized that they are the only coffee houses i've been going to. Damn, they've now got a hold of me. Help me somebody!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111745230791785583?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745230791785583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111745230791785583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/evil-money-sucker-corporate-machine.html' title='Evil money sucker corporate machine (does this make sense at all ?! LOL)'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111717699255380879</id><published>2005-05-26T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T22:08:58.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking skeleton</title><content type='html'>So, what will happen when you tell this to any woman : "You look like you've gained a weight a little bit". The answer is, big NO NO. You shouldnt have ever told that in the first place no matter how nicely you say it. They will start turning all sad, moody, and grumpy. Anyway, they surely never have any idea that it will be just as hurt as that when they tell me : "you're so skinny". I mean, thank you, i know that and you already told me that many times. I have been told so by few women. I mean, its not like i want to look like this. I eat the same amount of you three women eat in a day and im still freakishly skinny, for cryin out loud. Yep, im famous to be known as a skinny pig for that matter. Again, being a guy, i took it rationally as their concern to my health. Awww, thanks u guys. But pls, once is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS : Boo, u always want my most honest opinion. Here it is. Again, i think you look perfect with your style now. Just be cheerful, then all girls will hate you (cause u're so perfect) hehe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111717699255380879?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111717699255380879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111717699255380879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/walking-skeleton.html' title='Walking skeleton'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13186578.post-111709717221224422</id><published>2005-05-26T01:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T01:46:12.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Youkoso!</title><content type='html'>Welcome to my web blog, Me !! :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13186578-111709717221224422?l=funkyblegug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111709717221224422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13186578/posts/default/111709717221224422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funkyblegug.blogspot.com/2005/05/youkoso.html' title='Youkoso!'/><author><name>funkyblegug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10163865707443085775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/278/6051/640/southpark_me_edited.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
