You're such a seed sack!

I happened upon this magazine when I was cleaning up the other day. It's a kids magazine for mothers about schools and clothes and stuff. I just can't imagine why, when you decide you must use an English title, you would come up with this name. Obviously it doesn't have the same connotations for Japanese that it does for us, but why?! Where is the connection to kids other than it takes a seed sack combined with a love pylon and a stench trench to make a kid. hmmm.
I just watched Fight Club again yesterday. Gotta say it's one of my favourite movies. (His name is Robert Paulson) Just before that I watched Krull (I can assume any form I wish), Alive (We ended up having to eat each other), Midnight Express (cigar cigaretta sil vous ple) , Poltergeist (I don't like the tree dad), Shawshank ( He swam through a pile of shit, came out clean on the other side) and the Young ones for the millionth time.
I was sure the music for Krull was the same as The wrath of Kahn and I was correct. Same composer and his previous film.
Trying to think of some other old movies I want to see. Maybe Close Encounters and Crimson Tide. Been hankering for a bit of Dune recently and the original Bladerunner with the naration but impossible to find except on laser disk or very old VHS. If anyone has it, let me know.

The thing that should not be.

For anyone who has witnessed first hand the evil lamp in Flemington, and if you haven't then you haven't looked upon the face of true evil, here is something you will find disturbing I am sure. I was in need of a leak the other day and searching for a lavvy without a direct line of sight from the porcellain to outside walkers (quite a challenge in Japan) and came upon this abomination. Obviously meant for children, I could feel the evil radiating from it and instantly knew it was related to the evil lamp. How many kiddy souls had this thing devoured, I thought as I used the normal one next to it. How is it that such an evil thing could go unnoticed. Perhaps that was the charm of the thing. It operated in plain sight of people but caused them to not understand what they were seeing. It lies to them. To kids it simply is another child, but to us it is the beast. It lies to them but also mixes lies with the truth to confound them.

And on another note, I just loved this image so had to put it up.

The Pill

Family did the usual trip up to Saitama to see Grandma and Mon chan today. We went to a Chinese restaurant and Lisa was given a package of assorted lollies and small crappy plastic toys, most of which are about the right size to get easily lodged in ones windpipe.
One of the packs of lollies was the pictured birth control pills. It's ironic that a country that doesn't provide subsidised or even readily available birth control should make candy thats looks like such. Lisa insists that they must be taken one a day on the assigned days written on the package and notes that some of the pills are only sugar. Where she gets this information is unknown to me. I hope that her practical knowledge of these items is limited to scoffing lollies.
You can't blame Japan for making birth control expensive. With the low birthrate here the government needs to something more than saying 'Do it for your country!' as they do now, then scratch their collective heads and wonder why it isn't working. In the words of Conan the barbarian 'uaaaaau' if you can read that phonetically.
I have a bit of a head cold as my personal agar petri dish aka Lisa, has been hard at work culturing more nasties to transfer to me via her patented transmission method ie. finger up nose and then in Dad's eye. Works everytime. So I am enjoying a potent cocktail of several genki drinks and some ibeprophin. Quite funky. I can't hear properly because colds effect my good ear, and I can't smell anything and subsequently didn't detect the homeless guy on the train today that cleared half the carriage. I was at first puzzled by Inson's watering eyes and strange look but I could have quite happily sat next to the guy. I didn't even carefully seal my lips to avoid shit particles entering my mouth. hmmm, maybe having a sense of smell is better afterall. Anyway I'm going to quit now before this entry begins to move towards the subject of excretia and Randy starts complaining.

Sorry

Ok, that last post was a little tasteless but I had the pictures so I had to use them. What's happenned to Bag? His posting consistency is not complete. Been watching the Young Ones. The memories of Camberwell come flooding back. The writing burnt into the carpet. The couch that held a beer mug so well. The kitchen where the lino floor tiles were on the table and the floor was carpetted, with Worm-bread crumbs. The logger that had toilet paper crammed into the cracks in the wall so the worm couldn't look in while 'laying down the law'. I still have dreams where I have to squeeze the Renault into the small parking space coz Bag got to it first with the 1000. The mushroom growing in the shower cubicle. The plasticine on the roof. And waking up at midday and pondering whether to go to Adam's, play some Amiga games, watch The Young Ones or do nothing.
Any other highlights I have forgotten?

The place to be.

Many men come to Japan to get a little......



















..but if this is you, make sure it is a......

Very Tower

I went off the other day to see the tallest building in the world in Roppongi. It is 945 metres tall and 166 storeys to honor the 166 verses of the Tao. It sports 42 express elevators and takes just 50 seconds to reach the top floor. Because of it's height, getting water pressure to the top requires a 2000 hp diesel pump. The top 66 floors are pressurized and the windows are coated to reflect solar radiation because at that height the atmosphere is too thin to shield the occupants fully. The top floor has a revolving restaurant that takes 83 mintues to make one revolution so goes around twice in , you guessed it, 166 minutes. Access to the roof was not available that day because of the wind which can gust up to 60 kilometres per hour and... oh I give up. It's all bullshite that I made up coz I'm bored. And since if I didn't update soon I would be given shit.
By the way, Do you likakdikaday?

INSON RAGE!!

You've all heard of Dave Rage. Well today I witnessed Inson rage and it's even scarier. I have been calm recently and looking back, I experienced the most Dave Rage when I was hitting the gym the hardest. Especially during cylces of semi-illicit performance enhancement supplements. There is nothing better than increased testosterone levels to bring out the hulk. 'Don't make me mad, you wouldn't like me when I'm mad!'
So last week Inson joined Gold’s gym with me and has been put on a weight training program. If you go to Gold’s, it doesn't matter what your goals are; weight loss, gain, fitness, shape, the trainers will always make you do weights. And as Gold's Nakano isn't too busy, Inson has been getting personal training. While doing my dumbbell flys I glance in the mirror and see her face straining like Arnie in Pumping Iron, veins popping out of her neck as she dead lifts 4 plates a side, well.. Make that the bar only, still a respectable 20 kilos. 'Right-on' say I. None of this aerobics or Pilates crap. She fits right in with the big boys and k-1 fighters that go there. Since Gold’s is the only serious weights gym in the whole of Japan, you can expect to see some fighters and local professional bb'ers. I used to feel adequately buff in Tipness, but here I feel like Gollum without the strength. Inson however seems to fit in well with all the grunts and straining. Trouble is that it has elevated her aggression too. Few people have witnessed a pissed Inson but I have and it's scary. She's one of those people who make up for quantity with quality. I tell you the bile that can come out of her mouth.
We left the gym in good spirits only to find that the council had taken our bikes. I have an ongoing game of cat and mouse with the local bike-taking crusty old boys and until today have evaded them skillfully. Today I was caught off guard and lulled into a false sense of security by the warning tag put on my bike earlier. This usually signifies that they had no room in their truck and so let me off with a warning. You know the idea; if you get a parking ticket you are safe from getting another one for at least the rest of the day. But as it was raining there weren't many bikes around so the pickings were slim and they decided to come back for seconds.
In this situation all you can do it bend over and take it like a man. You must recover your bike from the local impound and pay the hefty $50 fine. As this is the council there is absolutely nothing you can do to avoid paying unless you just leave your bike there. Not my mountain bike thanks. I am angry but understand the futility of resistance and just give in. Not Inson. Her Anabolically induced rage simmers just below the surface of her skin but I can see the pressure building up just like Nasty Canasta when Daffy Duck messes with his mum.
We get to the impound yard, and she explodes at the old dude in charge of the bikes. She shouts obscenities at him in a mouth so foul I consider bringing in a priest. She slams down the money and begins to walk away refusing to fill out the form. The old boy tries to placate her by only asking her to fill in the name and address. She yells at him to do it himself and begins a prolonged expletive over and over about the sorry state of Nakano city. I am standing by sheepishly trying to look supportive but behind my masque of concern I just want to get the fuck out of there before they call the cops.
Anyway, after several more comments dripping in sarcasm (and you think there was none in Japan) we ride home. I'm trying to forget the incident but Inson is still seething.
'Perhaps you need to work off your aggression at the gym' say I realizing the stupidity of such a comment. She'll be back there tomorrow no doubt, since she's already addicted to 'the Iron'. I just hope none of those K-1 guys are hogging equipment that she wants; otherwise they may find themselves in the title fight of their lives.

The Priory of Zion

Recently I have begun keeping a few small lists of rudeness. One of those is the names of the different discount Logger paper that Inson buys. There was a debate for a while whether to buy the really thin type that lasts for ages but runs the risk of finger follow-through, or the super triple-ply which is finished after one good session if stools are not formed. Anyway, we went with super thin on the logic that you can always double or triple it up if you wish. But I disgress.
The point is, all these cheapo brands seem to have semi-random english labels. One was called Charles but the Japanese read sharuru, a poor effort even by their standards. Why would such a name be chosen. Do we have Tetsuo paper in Australia? I think not. Maybe when they wipe their arses they go, Fuh yoo English!! Sorry, that was uncalled for. Anyway, Japanese don't speak like that, only local Viets in Oz.
The latest borry parchment as pictured, is 'Prior'. Why? Is it a suggestion, as Kurt would tell us, that pre-wiping is a good habit to get into to remove netting that might ensnare the log on the way out? I would have imagined 'Post' would be a more appropriate name.
The previous brand was 'Naive'. It's for those who are of the over-optimistic belief that this low grade paper is going to be enough to deal with a heavy duty boz. You are sorely mistaken, as proclaimed on the label. Get out of La La land! Wake up and smell the ....well not the cheese anyway.
Well that's enough of my potty rant. If we get any new and amusing brands I'll be sure to post pictues of them for the edification of the western world.
Oh and WillyKaKaSarahStockZoeFinlayJonesKathrineandSamanthaAthenard
EmilyDuntVicMichan and thats all.

Driving the Porcelain Bus

This has been my view for the past 24 hours. I managed to get the flu from Pin, as expected, which, although being short lived, makes up for its lack of longevity by being rather potent. I haven't worshipped the porcelain god so much for years. Every 10 minutes for a whole day. I have broken capillaries all over my face. I have lost a couple of kilos and the only medicine that I could keep down ....well, lets just say I kept it up as the other end wasn't suffering the same distress!
Feeling better now though, although I must say that demented fever dreams are not my favorite cognative endeavour. I really did see Kurt in the toilet bowl and he kept telling me I would never get my sound card back! So I voshed on him for his insolent behaviour. Then I ruthed on him but he laughed coz nothing was coming out. Then I just doubled over him in the foetal position with that look we all know and love accompanied by the dry-reach.
This would rank in my top 5 worst experiences ever along with New years eve in the backyard of some friend of Gate's house, post ear operation dizziness and the Bag 'shroom fiasco (two of which occurred in the same month). Vosh related events seem to take the cake in my List of Unfortunate Events. How about y'all?