Hitting the spot

After three days of technical difficulties, i.e I'm semi-retarded, the PAUL & nick show is now available for download.

Episodes will be available on a weekly basis starting from the next couple of weeks, info will be given out closer to the date.

The first podcast see's myself and Nick invited onto the local hick station for some general chit-chat and crazy japishishness. We duly obliged and wooed all and sundry with our symbiotic relationship, side splitting humour and velly sexy bodies.

Nick sings solo about love or something like that while I request something for no particular reason due to the heap of dog poo I had to choose from on the night. Requests will be taken and all ideas will be reviewed.

Welcome to a new wave on the virtual waves (click on the link below)

THE G-SPOT

Live by the skew, die by the skew

Came home late last night after a brief get together with some of the locals and of course to bid a farewell to Red Leopard. HeartStopper was there perfectly adding colour to the evening.

Came home late last night and thought about all the changes that are gonna take place here in the next couple of weeks. All the colour is going to fade away.

When I came home late last night I pulled the balls off myself after reading Babar. Haven't read it in a while. As much as I can allow my imagination allow an elephant to drive cars, eat crumpets, wear finely tailored suits and talk freely amongst humans and jungle creatures I can't get over the fact that he married his cousin. He proposed to her while driving back to his town, upon arrival he was made King. They began a fruitful reign over their people perfectly happy in their incestuous matrimony. I just can't swallow that one.

After coming home late last night I woke late this morning. I was thinking about the Pareto Effect all day and applying it to my term in Iwate. 80% of the good times come about from 20% of the people. I'm no good at maths so I don't wanna try and figure out what happens when the 20% decreases, I know it's not a good thing though.

4 months till Tokyo.

www.chalk-n-cheese.co.jp

Saturday and Sunday were as about as different as two days can possibly get, wherever you are.
The LadySnapper had an appointment in Tokyo that day which meant I was flying solo on the Sendai bus. We were headed to Sendai to meet with my internet date, yes that’s what I said, and also rendezvous with Ichigo-bella who is The LadySnappers true object of desire. Considering how excited I am about starting something up with HeartStopper I was semi-reluctant to go, especially as BrideOfTheInternet hadn’t emailed one picture of herself and I’d thrown in the guts of my spring collection for her viewing pleasure. I had cancelled a rendez-vous two previous times so something called ‘guilt’, I think it’s the right phrase, crept in and I felt obliged to meet up.

Ichigo-bella and The Ladysnapper met up with me and we tried to get into some ‘Bimbo’ restaurants, as Ichigo-bella calls them, but they were booked up with wedding parties. We settled on an over-priced Italian restaurant where there was more atmosphere in a mortuary. Our company included two identically balding men with two equally youthful dates being fed fine wines and mundane chit-chat. No doubt they were both hostesses and they certainly had our attention. The attention of the waiters, however, was honed in at our table where myself and The LadySnapper had encircled Ichigo-bella and proceeded with a barrage of compliments and niceties in her general direction. I find it difficult trying to describe Ichigo-bella natural beauty, she isn’t outrageously gorgeous but she is the most attractive person I have ever met. Her aura is like octopus tentacles flailing around and prodding you from head to toe leaving sucker marks that resonate with desire long after she has squirped (how the hell do you describe how an octopus moves? Do they swim? I’m sticking with squirp) back to her (damn this metaphor, where do ocotpussies, octopi, live??!) octopad. She may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but if I was going to build some shelves I’d want her on my belt. We polished off a bottle of wine before heading on to an izakaya for some nomihodai. (I’m no A.A. Gill but the food was definitely several folds away from a paper crane)

Ichigo-bella was beginning to open up a little more with each and every neon cocktail that washed down her gullet. Not that I felt like a sore thumb or anything but I wanted to leave The LadySnapper and Ichigo-bella to it so I paid heed to the thumbs up from the trio of 18yr olds at the table next to me. They had just been released from the demon High School and were living up their newly found freedom by taking in as much booze and cigarettes as was humanly possible in two hours, their endeavour brought a tear to my eye. I instantly liked these girls especially as all they wanted to do was slurpy-slurpy and tell me what a nice guy I am. I was seriously thinking about getting their numbers but then good sense kicked in and I let them be on their merry way as they boozed down the path to adulthood; Bon chance girls. The booze count was now at half a bottle of wine, a can of 6% skank booze that The LadySnapper made me drink and two hours of beer and moscow mules. I was a little bit tipsy as I prepared to meet BrideOfTheInternet, but first emailed drunkenly to HeartStopper something about wanting it to be Sunday already for our date.

She was accompanied by two complete skanks but fortunately she was presentable and, more importantly, drunk. My second nomihodai was on the cards as we sat down in some tropical styled pirate ship watering hole. The ubiquitous Immigrant appeared out of nowhere as did TheManiac and his garage rhymes. I really have no idea what the hell I was saying to BrideOfTheInternet but we seemed to be getting along just fine. The LadySnapper had been adopted by the adjacent table as they revelled in his tales of love and woe through the ages. TheImmigrant and The Maniac were working double time on the skanky duo with BrideOfTheInternet. It looked like they were making inroads until TheManiac went insane and hit the high road for no apparent reason. The skanks were scuffled and scampered home which left TheImmigrant and The LadySnapper heading towards a club while I finished the drinks on the table with the help of my Internet date, can’t believe I went on an Internet date. BrideOfTheInternet wasn’t up for a club so asked did I wanna continue drinking. We immediately found ourselves in a quirky little place with fluorescent beaded drapes and soothing music. This was nomihodai number three, I was beyond tipsy. She sipped champagne while I was on the Jim Beams, it was a miracle there was any communication on my part. After some handshakes and pictures with the locals we left after two hours, hyper-inebriated.

She asked did I want to stay back at her place, I’m presuming I said yes ‘cos that’s where I woke up. She stopped off at a store on the way to pick up a half bottle of Champagne; we drank it as we shared earphones listening to Moon Safari whilst naked on her tatami. I refused to listen to James Blunt. She had huge tattoos all over her body; this was a definite turn on. I really need to get a hold of a supply of condoms over here; the local issue ones are ridiculously small. The early hours dwindled away between sleep and sex until alarm bells went ringing at two.

What was I thinking of? I had a date with the most beautiful girl I’d met in Japan and I was suffering from the worst hangover in a long time, stinking of booze and guilt. I rendezvoused with The LadySnapper at the station who was looking a little worse for wear. He’s ended up sleeping alone in a Love Hotel and puking all over himself while he was there. I was in a mad rush to make it back to Morioka for 7. I went to buy a new t-shirt to wear for that night. We missed the first bus. I was stressing. I passed some disgusting chicken past my lips. Puking was imminent. The next bus left at half four, I would be seriously pushing it. Luckily the puke stayed at bay and I tried to catch up on some sleep on the bus with little success. The LadySnapper had no problem and he was out like a light. We breezed into Morioka at about twenty to seven, and then rushed to the car for some toiletries. I ran to a toilet to pull a Clark Kent on it and make myself semi-presentable. I made it, completely out of breath, by five past. The air was heavy, and cold, and with each breath a white puff lingered around me like a comic book caption. It would've had a picture of HeartStopper in it with a giant heart in the background. She turned up at half past. Girls?!

Smaller than I remember, I have only really been sitting beside her the past few times, she was looking fantastic. Wearing a sandal and a sneaker, still recovering from the foot injury, she looked so cute. We engaged with a hug and that immediately bolstered my dwindled energy reserves. I took her to Tawa Tawa, a middle range Asian Fusion type restaurant. She’s bubblier than a soda stream and we had little trouble in getting the ball rolling. There are three features about her that I can’t stop thinking about. Her hair shines like a school of tropical fish turning sharply in a reef, it’s mesmerising. Her eyes, like all Japanese girls, are brown but they are wider and more inviting than any I’ve looked into. I’m knocking hard for a permanent invite. Her ears are so tiny and cute, they could be nibbled on as the perfect after dinner snack, I refrained from this and stuck to the mango sorbet. I am sure that she has sensational shoulder blades and I’m holding my breath, and packing spare pants and extra Kleenex, for the day she wears a top that reveals them to me. For something so small her legs are like two ivory chopsticks, long, strong, slender and only a few are worthy of encountering them. I’ve only seen these covered by denims, again I hold my breath.

The usual first date fare was chewed over and past experiences etc were exchanged. She asked me what my dream in life was. I immediately thought ‘You, and only you’ but instead I ripped off my ‘I wanna live off the royalties of my as of yet unpublished book on an isolated farm in Chile where I sit in a hammock each and every day sipping a beer and watching the sun arc through the day’. She was a little taken back by that so I followed it up with ‘I’ll be staying in Japan for the next couple of years though’. Foot in mouth strikes again. I would gladly take her to Chile with me, you can buy hammocks that fit two people, I’ve seen them. The rest of the chat was comfort talk, nothing to serious and nothing to contentious just a simple get-to-know-you type thing. I want to know more, a lot more.

We were the only two people in the restaurant but compared to the previous night the bodies had turned on the techno and started to dance round the mortuary. Plate after plate of top quality food appeared and the wine was more energetic than the Italians lack lustre performance the previous night. Her hands crept over the table and looked like they wanted to be clasped by mine, but her shyness was evident from time to time and I wasn’t going to scare her away. Two hours were over in a heartbeat and it was time to say goodnight to HeartStopper. I walked her to her car exchange farewells and gave a huge inward scream when she hugged me goodbye. She’s so small that I patted her on the head and wished her a safe journey home, I lack intimacy skills.

I called The LadySnapper to see if he was still around for a lift back home. He was sleeping under a duvet in the back seat of the Caldina which was parked in front of the Church doors, classy. I rambled on about how well it went, not that he cared. I wanted to mail her straight away but waited till I was sure she was at least home. I let loose on the text telling her how I felt, the reply had reciprocal sentiments. Happy Days. I just hope that she doesn’t turn into my own Ichigo-bella whom the LadySnapper has been working on for the past 7months with little effect other than a strong friendship. I’m not falling for that one. SexyMenopause lady that we hang out with in the Nohe gave me some tips on dating a Japanese girl. One of them was the three date rule; no kissing before the third date otherwise it shows that her family are not of premium stock. Her family are obviously thoroughbreds; I’m content to work on my dressage skills before I take her out for a gallop in the fields.

Well, what a weekend. The click of a mouse brought me face-to-face with a booze hound sex fiend, while a twist of fate brought me within touching distance of a rare beauty. My main focus now can only be on HeartStopper as the time grows nearer for her to return to Tokyo. Hopefully when she’s there she’ll only be a mouse click away.

Beat The Meat

Without ever meeting Larry I can safely say that I am a lot happier than he is at the moment.

A one-on-one, tête-à-tête with the beautiful HeartStopper is taking place this Sunday at one of Iwate’s finest eateries. I genuinely haven't been ｔhis excited about a date since flying home from Turkey, after an unsuccessful search for the Golden Toffees, to meet up with TrueLove. That was about four years ago. More than likely it's just the fact that HeartStopper will help me focus on everything away from the fracas of Iwate life and the mundane Minions that inhabit it.

Regardless of that I'm going on a three day diet of spring water, facials and push-ups (I plan on doing at least 14 before Sunday evening) in order to woo her into my muscular, yet tender loving, arms. I am hoping to God that nerves don't get the better of me and I start an inane and indecipherable ramble about the importance of culling chickens in Kazakhstan. Regardless of the outcome at least I've rediscovered my thirst for the female touch and I'm parched.

Codebreaking

Last nights encounter with HeartStopper was a resounding success in that I managed to sit beside her and let the retarded midget that lives in my head type away on a rusty typewriter and despatch a slurry of conversation pieces that would have a Special Olympian giving me his gold medal in sympathy for my dire attempt at luring HeartStopper into my rabbit-filled, rainbow covered, primrose smelling and squid-free world.

I should just have Bill Gates and his team insert a hard disk within me and have a string falling out of my ass which people can pull in order to generate a response.

Anyways, I made it through the night relatively unscathed and blemish free. I can barely even tell if a girl likes me even after we’ve had sex for the fifth time. So, I’ve read about a lot of movies on dating and can pick up a signal or two, but how should I receive the following information?

1. She is not your typically shy Japanese girl so her hands were frivolous, resting on my knees and shoulders. Was she just tired and needed something to lean on in the absence of an arm on the chair due to us sharing it?

2. She laughed at my jokes. Was she just being polite or was she just laughing at me?

3. I asked her to hang out again sometime, she said yes. She is currently just home to convalesce after a table fell on her beautiful foot and is bored every day with nothing to do. Am I just a segue between boredom and Tokyo?

4. Considering she will be going back to Tokyo in a month, but also taking into account the fact that I am moving to Tokyo in 4months I decided to top off the evening with a gung-ho styled phone mail.

Paul: Oyasumi (goodnight) HeartStopper hope to see you VERY soon. (dancing smiley face) I think you are VERY beautiful (winking playgirl emoticon) ii yume (sweet dreams)

I didn’t enjoy the wait for the reply as LadySnapper pelted down the expressway at 180kph. The phone beeped and HeartStoppers name appeared on the screen

HeartStopper: Mail title: Give me a chyotto(moment)(open palm emoticon). Main body: (sparkling/glistening pink heart) oyasumi Poru (rosy cheeked animated smiling emoticon)(Animated waving, with action lines, hand emotion) I had a really good time with you (red rose petal swirl emoticon)(red 100 on top of two dashes emoticon) tanoshikata(it was fun)(roast chicken drumstick emoticon) me too, hope to see you soon (rosy cheeked animated winking smileyfaced emoticon)(hand making the ‘okay’ gesture emoticon) have a good night (either a left ear emoticon or a face on view of a right ear emoticon) (either a face on view of a right ear emoticon or a left ear emoticon)

Ears??!! What in God’s name do the ears symbolise? It was all going well until that point; the ears have thrown me off the scent. Do I have nice ears? Does she want to remind me of her ears? Am I supposed to listen out for something? Is she listening to my voice in her mind as she rests her beautiful head on her pillow? Ears??!! I ask you, what are they about?

All the above details, according to the movies on dating I’ve read about, would lead to the green light or she is just the ultimate in prick-tease technology. There is one mitigating factor as well as to why it may just be playful flirtation on her point. She may or may not have a boyfriend, as of yet this has neither been confirmed nor denied. If reports are true he is a dickhead who treats her like shit. But don’t girls like the bad guy? Always wanting to change him etc etc Anyway, do I want to attempt to steal something so beautiful from anybody for my own selfish gains? If I do try and steal her would I even be able to? And, I'm not the first to go sailing towards the rocks in response to her Sirenical warble.

What’s the next step? If it’s left in my hands I’ll no doubtedly mess it up.

Attraction = mx - c

Fell in love on Monday night.

This time it's different.

My heart actually stopped beating for a couple of seconds as her equally awestruck gaze crashed into mine leaving shattered dreams on the wayside. She shone from the corner in which she was chatting. Positive energy spilled from her more furiously than water into the Hoover Dam. She had one beautiful foot on show, nursing it back to health after life tried to sabotage her genetic good fortune. I was suffering from foot-in-mouth disease pulling out all the quality chat-up lines including "What's our favourite colour?", "Do you like dogs?" and "Wow, we both have pink phones". Miraculously she answered the questions (pasta and yes being the answers) with an equally nervous giggle. Her eyes are wider than 500yen coins and her skin is as smooth as a freshly peeled Japanese radish. I not only want to kiss her where the Rising Sun don't shine but I feel a compelling urge to hold her hand and, perhaps, build her something or draw her a picture.

The rules of Attraction have never been quite clearly explained to me and as such I have no idea how to play the game properly. My game plan has also been the friends’ first approach. It's a simple manoeuvre with little or no heavy combat skills needed. You wait till you sense the pursued party is interested and then make a move in a dark club/pub whilst pretending to be drunker than you are knowing that she is drunker than she is letting on to be so that should it not work you won't ruin the status quo. TrueLove and FirstLove both resulted from these approaches as did PastaMuncher and various others. Being dropped in the Japanese culture of girls not being heavy drinkers, and incredibly shy on the whole, favours the more one pronged 'Can I get your number' attack. I tried the cold calling method on BreifFling which was fun while it lasted but sadly wasn't to be. Also another girl, who was partial semi-cold call partial 'Friends First' approach who I cancelled on has hated me ever since, and her friends too, giving me frostbite when we meet at APPI (I also found out that one of her friends who has an equally severe disliking toward me stemming from the first time I met her and jokingly said you're my competition [she's part of AJET which is the social committee of each prefecture]. I just can't help but laughing at that really, I am sure she has plenty of other just reasons but for that to be the basis, well...). Johnny Awestruck, The Immigrant and all the Nth. Americans have perfected the art of the 'can i get your number' technique. Their strategy is based on numbers, the more you get the higher your odds. The Immigrant has every girl in the city which must means his chances have risen to 1 in 10,000 at this stage.

With no other choice in the matter I called in the "can i get your email address" move as she was preparing to exit out of my life forever. The address was gladly handed over and has resulted in a meeting later today after a top drawer email assault yesterday. Let's watch this space. I could of course be over exaggerating and it could turn out to be nothing more than me getting in a twist over a beautiful occidental ovary dispenser flapping her eyelids at me.

Thanks to FantasticHugger for hosting the evening and replenishing my love faculties. Apart from reading the book of Tantra (with cool pics) and discussing the barbarous genitalia of male cats she always manages to make me, and I'm sure everyone else, feel good about themselves. I'm working on the hugging, but you'll understand why I might occasionally fear the other half with the likes of RedLeopard throwing the heat out! Speaking of RedLeopard throwing it out, she succumbed to the Latin advances of Iwates newest immigrant, the RoadSideMelon Salesman, and went for a Rumba in the slumba with him whilst under the influence of gallons of red wine and a dab of Mexican charm.

The party also played host to the two most beautiful Japanese guys I have ever seen. Both are talented musicians and whipped out a few renditions of their favourite tunes whilst everyone stood in awe at the beauty of their product and their being. 50% of the duo will be leading me up the mountain forest trails on Friday night, so should tonight’s date with anticipated destiny not work out it might be a snowshoe to the head and some Yeti loving for my friend Mr. Handsome.

The moral of this post: There are no rules of attraction and there are no concrete guidelines for success. There is one thing for sure though, you'll never find it if you go looking for it.

Shenanigans

The St. Patrick’s Day festivities started with a bang on the 16th as WeirdGirl’s parents clambered up the road to Nohe for a brief visit to the Japanese sticks. We joined forces at House of Picnic and drank copious amounts of beer and ate an inordinate amount of food. WeirdGirls father has more stories than the Brothers Grimm and knocked the socks off Der Fuhrers fraternity story where they one time stole a pig. In short: WeirdGirls brother went to Uni of Texas. Went to frat party. Frat boys had earlier bought a pig. Fed pig swill and laxatives all day. Covered pig in grease. Went to party with greased pig. Party was jam packed. Let the pig loose and closed the doors. Nobody could hold on to the pig due to grease. Shit everywhere. Legend. WeirdGirl: extend your thanks to your dad for that one. So, that was the beginning of Paddy’s Day celebrations.

The green, white and orange tones of my polyester leprechaun costume caught everybody’s attention as I jigged my way into the Tipperary/Tex-Mex bar on Paddy’s Day. Brassballs had worn a green tee especially for the occasion and apparently I’d been emitting green vibes to the lower extremes of the prefecture with BriefFling reporting a mysterious urge to don an almost forgotten green cardigan.

Johnny Awestruck had arranged to meet a girl, Random Club Victim, from last weeks bar trawl. It just so turns out that Random Club Victim is Ms. Onenighttango who you may recall got some dance lessons from yours truly last week. She instantly recognised me, in my Leprechaun outfit, but it was The Ladysnapper who had to remind me who she was while I struggled to take a pee through the layers of costume in the toilet. Johnny Awestruck had also arranged to meet the Succubi at the bar, he now had two ladies; one on either arm, but both pining for me. The Ladysnapper had his Illegal Kitty with him; BritRapper was nibbling on Luvulongtime while I had Green Loving Machine and her friends from last week to keep me company.

Nomihodai was in session and my first order was a pint of the Black Stuff [disclaimer: those in the Inner Party who may be reviewing this blog for illicit content especially Mr. 1hugeass2faced4chin. Black Stuff is not an illegal substance so don’t bother googling it now to see what you can drag up], which was not on the all-you-can-drink-list and had to be paid for at premium rate which is 8euro! In a non-typical act The Immigrant offered to pay for the drink and then in typical form reached his hand out for the 50yen coin (30cent) in change. We were under starters orders and blitzed the next couple of hours away. Solid ground work was done on the Green Loving Machine and I have secured an offer for ‘dinner and sweets’ at her place in the coming week or so.

HockeyKid and his visiting parents joined in the revelry at some point and seemed to take it all in with minimal damage to their aging tickers. HockeyKid dragged the troupe around the corner to a ridiculously cheap karaoke booth where the rule of ‘Irish songs only unless you can place a feasible link to Ireland with the song you’re singing’ was quickly thrown out the window. We raped songs like ‘Kaze Wo Atsumete’ in appallingly bad drunken Japanese and the Prodigy’s Firestarter. Brassballs brought it 2 da Ghetto 4 reel with his urban bounces right through to the midget Prince’s sexy beats. The Immigrant tore the house down with some song I’ve never heard of while Luvulongtime’s fascination with The Spice Girls gave people plenty of time to go to the toilet. The two hours sauntered by leaving only one major casualty. FellowIrish didn’t fall out of the place, she crawled out then slid down the stairs, hitched a ride in a sewer no doubt till she spilled out of her toilet and landed on her futon. What did she expect from drinking pints of Vodka and Tonic??!! Sterling performance, it made me weep.

The night was still young as the old faithful mauled the newest bar on our hit list, Roe Bar. We headed back to the 13th ½ floor for some more boozing with the skebi legend of a barman playing the coolest music this side of Tokyo. Surprisingly it wasn’t the Ladysnapper who was first to nod off but the BritRapper who was taking a barrage of abuse from Luvulongtime, ‘tell me you fucking love me you cunt’ was one of her more charming expressions directed at her inebriated love. Ms. Onenighttango was still around dancing like it was 1999 shouting over ‘you have crazy dick’, or ‘fuck you’ anytime we crossed eyelines. Johnny awestruck was torn between taking the easy and more conformative lay (The Succubi) while I was getting an inner thigh stroke from the inimitable Succubi. Eventually Ms. Onenighttango retreated to the beyond which left the option clear and concise. As the couples dropped off the scene I was left with two sluts (The Immigrant and Brassballs), a couple of slutty girls, the Barman and his friend. The sluts passed out, the slutty girls checked out soon after so it just left me to internationalise and learn as much as I could about the Morioka’s underbelly. Turns out there’s a lot more to the place than meets the eye, anything is attainable and many of the seemingly docile looking ladyfolk are rampant nymphomaniacs hungry for salty deposits on their marshy embankments.

I stayed for a few drinks more before retreating to The Immigrants refugee sanctuary for a couple of hours repose. It was the first time I’d ever been away for Paddy’s Day, having spent the last ten or so celebrating Mieke’s birthday and playing pub golf. It obviously didn’t have the same raucous energy of Dublin’s debauchery, but the inebriation was there and more importantly it was spent with good friends. This St. Patrick’s Day these beer glazed Irish eyes were certainly smiling, to be sure.

Vote Luis (part 2)

News of an extended election due to a tie has given hope to Puerto Rico's suavest politician. The announcement came on St. Patricks Day that he will be running against Ms. Yes They Are Real Thank You Very Much from the good ol' U.S. of A. and Mr. I've Got The Social Skills Of A Dung Beetle(If he reads this he'll beat the shit out of me, I am relying on the fact that he can't read). Peronally I want Ms. Yes They Are Real Thank You Very Much to win in what already is a titilating political battle. Having said that the underworld sabateurs are voting for Mr. I've Got The Social Skills Of A Dung Beetle just to piss every one off after they've left for pastures new come August (I have to say that I wil be voting that way too, the fact that he is even going for the position is just beyond belief).

Of course I ultimately would like to see Luis take over the world and commission Siemens with the task of creating a cell phone with a memory capable of storing every girls number from the age 0f 17 - 25 in the world.

One day I will realise my dream. Until then I'll dream up his imaginary campaign and continue to annoy those who take life too seriously.

St. Patricks Day is a day where people around the world celebrate being Oirish by drinking guinness, dancing to Boyzone and scoring American Cheerladers. The day after is when the worlds poo turns black, you hum Father and Son in your head and hope to God that the cheerleaders troupe leader doesn't press charges. Of course these are the stereotypical images of what the big day is all about. Luis would like to emphasise that he is different, that he stands out and that he is out there fighting for you.

Vote Luis, it doesn't make sense, but then again neither does the JET programme.

The Breakfast Club

I’m not one to kiss and tell, ahem, but I finally got a piece of the indigenous pie last weekend. Man was I hungry, and boy was it tasty.

Saturdays journey down in the Camiro was full of the usual talk of “the sluts are gonna take it tonight”, or “tonight’s the night”. For anyone that’s been out with me in the past 8 months you’ll know that this usually ends up with me solo dancing under a disco ball with the more than occasional retreat to the bar for some liquid companionship. I decided to change all that in the past couple of weeks and engage in a flirtation with the opposite sex (for an undetermined amount of time). Results were quickly posted with news that one of Ninohe’s cutest senseis showing interest in Iwate’s number one most despised JET.

Last weekend thus resulted in a spinach powered ego-boost as I went in search of Olive Oil. For those in the group that do strive towards the end goal it’s rather more frustrating for them on Sunday’s when there are no glory tales to revel in. We initially put some good work in with one of the staffers in the Stussy store, who’ll be joining us on a night out in the not too distant future. Johnny Awestruck was in prime form and busy arranging hook-ups with Peanut Head and Co. Meanwhile we rendezvoused with The Immigrant, BritRapper and his slutty Sapporo girl who’d come down for the weekend. A few Sapporo’s by the river, enduring the snow, warmed the livers so it was soon time to light the souls in the eatery.

We were sensing something different in the air last Saturday, genuine optimism had crept in. It was a little unsettling. Salaryman was in tow with his deranged views on thw world prompting head scratching and laughs at the end of every sentence. Johnny Awestruck was on the prowl and soon had a stable of fillies ready for petting, which is when we introduced ourselves. I was quickly summoned as it transpired that one of the shiniest maned stablemates had a healthy obsession with my home land, The Ivory Coast. She had, has, a rousing passion for the green, white and orange. I had a rousing passion for anything with lips, it was a winning connection. Immediately sensing that this effort was a long steeplechase and no flat race I offered my email address to keep the flame burning, and we've been in contact ever since using the tenuous link of my cultural ambassadorship as a tipping point. She left legless and light-headed, both from the booze and her encounter with the fleshy embodiment of her would be hero.

We spilled out from the main street and oozed towards the back alleys to the Roe bar. The 13th ½ floor was room enough, barely, for the ten of us or so that had carried over. Hockeykid was purchasing horrendous shots for all and sundry including my old friend tequila. Somehow I managed to keep it down and carry on, not that I was happy about it at all. While Salaryman, The Immigrant and Brassballs went back to Salarymans apartment to do unmentionable things to a girl, The Succubi, who would give an exorcist a heart attack we went on to the perennial lifeline towards the early hours that is BarDai, it is a shithole by the way. Subsequently, the Ladysnapper had returned from Sendai broken hearted and deflated after his heart pour to one of Japans most beautiful attractions, Ichigo-bella. It didn’t phase the romantic lothario one iota as he assumed Rip VanWinkle mode moments after he arrived at the club. Myself and Johnny Awestruck were basking in the anomalous mass entity that had gathered for that nights special performance, complete with females. This is a rarity in a place renonwned for being a weekly sausage fest hosted by a semi-naked barman and an overweight Madame.

After latching on to the Succubi, I had no idea who she was at the time, for an hour or so showing some of my best body popping and finger-in-your-belt-loop-move The Immigrant came over and stole her, I was too drunk to call the deportation authorities and let it slide. My slide ended up beside an ultra-toned local with all the features of someone who had many dancing partners. I slipped the rose between my teeth and let loose with the tango. Initially the moves were strictly ballroom as we tapped around poor Japanese and English phrases. Four hours passed and resulted with scratching at the small of her neck and the occasional kiss when no one was looking. She then asked me what I would like for breakfast. “Anything with cream is good for me thanks”. The Madame was serving sandwiches as it was 8 in the morning and The Immigrant was found sleeping under a table. Ms Onenighttango had my arm locked and loaded as we headed into the Sunday morning sunshine it was clear she was quite moonstruck.

What she lacked in culinary skills (we had reheated pizza slices and a beer for breakfast) she made up for in aerobic abilities. I’d been awake for 27hours and delirious with fatigue but there was no way I wasn’t gonna rise to this occasion. The miniscule condom made it just past the head which was a little nerve racking but I had an interrogation to make and the bad cop wanted first shout. As she repeated most things I said I was already thinking of the fact that I would never see her again and that would suit us both fine, I guess we had both different motives for engaging in the same act. A short repose called forth round three and the TV was now layered in the background. The cast of the Chronicles of Narnia were being interviewed, including some ridiculously hot 16 year old who immediately became the focus of my attention. So as I imagined a love scene being taped by a voyeur lion peeking from a creak in a shabby wardrobe I decided to get the phone camera out to capture the moment out for posterity. Unfortunately this ruined the moment as I forgot about the fact that every time I take a pic with my phone camera it let’s out a Mr. T-like ‘Oh Yeah’, I was instantly rumbled and Ms. Onenighttango retreated under the covers.

We fooled and fiddled, poked and joked before it was time to head back for a round up with the others. Johnny Awesome had taken The Succubi back to the vacant Salarymans apartment who’d gone off for an Onsen (Japanese hot-springs) session with the Ladysnapper who needed to wash away the stains of violation as Morioka’s very own midnight fiddler, Bowlcut, had invaded his happy space while he had slept at the club. Brassballs was off in a love hotel showing some poor girl the baby’s arm while The Immigrant was tidying up his database of every girl in the city. As we reconvened we for once had stories of sexploitation and conquests to hum about on the windy Route 4 back to the ‘Nohe. I’m not sure if it made me feel more like a man, more like myself or more like everyone else. What I do know is, for once, it made me feel like doing it again.

Thoughtcrimes

Nonone can hide under the watchful eyes of the Inner-Party within, or beyond, Iwates borders. The thoughts of those expressed via the medium of blog are now being scrutinsed by our very own O'Brien, the go-between and ultimately the device used in the downfall of Winston Smith. I have never lived in a place where actions are so closely observed and a network of voices can relay information so quickly to Big Brother. Should I have to put up with an environment like this where expression outside the realms of judged acceptability results in reprimand and retribution? I have just about had it here. What purveys itself as a free and open strata is by no means a long way from being totalitarian. You're life is somewhat bound to the Kencho, anything remotely over the line will have your toes snapped at. You can't fart without them catching wind of it. Of course there is a network of sympathisers, or as Orwell called it: The Brotherhood. Together The Brotherhood can speak freely amongst each other and allow opinions and stories to flow freely, so come Brothers lets poke a stick in the eye of Big Brother.

My blog from now on will take the form of Orwells other satire, 'Animal Farm'. Can I feel at ease behind pseudonyms and fictitious places before this tickles the naval on Jones' Farm? Oink.

vote luis

The Vote Luis campaign was greeted with as much vigour as Hitler in a Synagogue by the ever morose and infuritaingly boring JET's that inhabit Iwate in this strange year of my life that I have called Lawsons Creek (the Irish version of Spar on every corner is a Lawsons). An imaginary election called for some piss taking but that wasn't the case in the JET community.

We had pictures and commentaries on Luis, aka 'The Dooger', who is Puerto Rico's most beloved emigrant and playboy. Luis has all the charms of a crooked congressman who'd abuse his position with every opportunity and most certainly be photographed sleazing his way through the hostess bars of this world. We love him for it so pushed him for imaginary President. It generated little response from the 'Jet community' except when I posted comments on the blog, and then got stupid emails from various people.

The positions are tough ones to fill as trying to inspire the JET's in Iwate to do anything is a mammoth fete, but they(AJET, the people who organise social events) gave it their best shot. I just hope for whoever is running the show next year doesn't have to put up with the likes of some of the people we've had this year.

Here are some of the finer moments from the Vote Luis campaign. (by the way, Dooger got over his imaginary defeat by getting incredibly drunk shouting yatterai(i wanna fuck you in Jap) at the locals recently...but more on last weekend tomorrow)

Day 1:

this is a party political broadcast from Puerto Chico enterprises
d-day is approaching...the dooger will come

Day 2:

Luis has noticed that some of the minions are concerned about the current recycling policies within Japan...the Dooger has long been an avid recycler and can help anyone dispose of their unwanted electrical goods.

dooger says:"recycling not only saves the world, it saves Puerto Ricans too"

dooger, dooin good

Day 3:

With Luis you'll get more for your Peso, eh...I mean Yen

Puerto Chico enterprises is a Dooger Corp subsidiary and part of the Dogger Inc group of compnies listed in Forbes as company most liekly to give you a free banana and ask if you have any single daughters.

Day 4 (last day):

it's the last day bu that doesn't mean the Dooger is taking his foot off the pedal...head to the polls, give Luis the skebi vote

Dooger, little done and a lot less to do

Does Iwate need a power-boost?
Does Iwate need fresh ideas?
What Iwate needs is a breath of fresh air...

lots of people have been asking where the Dooger comes from. Whats his track record...
Luis has been around for decades spreading the word of peace and free love, although free love hasn't caught on on the streets of Morioka it hasn't stopped him trying.

here's Luis at his best.rock on, peace out

vote luis, he'll take you to a higher plane

supported by Ben&Jerry's chocopocolypse ice-cream, all profits donated to the people left in puerto rico(all 9 of them)

thats right, only minutes left to cast your imaginary vote to the imiginary ballot in the imaginary polling station
the only thing thats not imaginary, is of course the Dooger
he is real
very real

Dooger would like to thank all the running candidates, AJET, T, Jesus and Starbucks for their support during the campaign. The defeat has not dogged the Dooger down and he has vowed to run again, only next time, as he says, 'I'll use midgets'. He'll always have my vote

Jacqueisms #2

The snow is shrivelling and revealing the lush greens of the Japanese spring. Wildlife begins to return to forage about and shit in the woods. One of the more notable sightings has been that of the Mountain Goats (Oreamnos americanus) in and around the Ninohe area. They straggle about on the rocks death-staring cars as they pass on the road, they are not the type of animal you'd like to meet on a dark night whilst carrying a bag of grass. Jacques however has nothing but good words for this tough creature.

"Mountain Goats are awesome"

Further to his love of Mountain Goats, Jacques also speaks 'mountain goat', he proved it on Saturday night with his goat talk on 'bleating hearts' and the loneliness that some of the goats he has once known have endured. Jacques doesn't kid about when talking about goats, neither should you becuase Mountain Goats are awesome.

red

I've just crawled out of the meeting room after being locked in their since early this morning correcting entrance exams for Fukuoka Koko. 189, to be exact. I am covered head to toe in hanko juice and have have just been told that the entrance exams don't really count 'cos the number of applicants is less than the total number of places available i.e. everyone that took the exam will be welcomed in a few weeks.

I then got fed what i thought was a carrot and potato concoction but was some sort of sea dwelling fungus and innards of some manky crustacean.

Don't these people realise that I have an imaginary election to run? My campaign notes will have to wait until the last day, tomorrow. What a nail biter it's gonna be. Fridays are also when hundreds of pointless emails are sent amongst the uber-bored minions and everyone gets really sarcy with one another. It's the small things that keep me going.

Boredom surely is a fate worse than death.

p.s. VOTE LUIS

minions

Well, it's election time, or should I say 'apply for a position and let a group of friends who hate most of the people applying for the positions decide on who will take the reigns on the shitty group of retards that inhabit this vast prefecture'. AS usual people are taking themselves way too seriously and there is zero fun being had by most of the socially retarded goons who've set up stall in Iwate, even the human harddrive has been quiet with her ridiculously inane e-mails about Garfield, 'freaking ryokans' and the construction of snowmen during summer months.

This posting is going nowhere so now I will continue my rant about the nay sayers. Our P.A., who is a backstabbing two-faced turd, has been telling all and sundry about how I am the worst JET of all time, and that I am an arsehole to boot (Bob, I think you'd get on well with this guy, to be sure to be sure). Apparently he wants to have it out with me and another guy, about what I can only speculate. From what I hear his school was glad to see the back, the very large back, of his ass walk through their doors for the final time last summer, which he mostly spent boozing whiskey solo's.

His peev's lie with the fact I was at the rice wrestling party, which I didn't organise or get involved in any wrestling, back in September..and he is still going on about it. Somehow the British Embassy got wind of the news and so I am supposed to feel giulty or responsible for future JET's who's position it may have hampered...will it really do anything of the sorts? I don't think so. On top of the lectures, the calls and the side meetings he told me how much he had wanted to be part of the party but just couldn't make it, then I get all this shit from him...and even 8 months later! The Sapporo incident where I brought myself and Nick brought girls back to our hostel was another thing I get the a headache over. I then posted a comment on the hostel website telling them what I thought of them calling the girls whores etc etc. In what other country does your office give a crap what you do on your holidays??!! And, this guy isn't even Japanese. To add to that he pulled the usual round of shit with phonecalls etc telling me one thing and doing another when I had to go meet with the Head of the Board of Education.

I have made it no secret that I think that the JET programme is a waste of time and especially money for the Japanese, is this what gets him? I don't think so as he also agrees that the programme is a waste of time. How can you educate kids you interact with in a classroom environment at most once per week and with a Japanese teacher joined at your hip? I have asked lot's of kids to tell me the names of their previous ALT's and more than 90% couldn't even tell you who they had last year regardless of anything before that. Do I harass the ladyfolk like so many others. No, I can barely talk to anything with the ability to excrtet red goo once per month. Do I go boozing every night of the week and turn in late or not at all?

Well, back to the point, I may be an arsehole which is a point shared by many here who make no qualms about it when they meet you at APPI or walk by you at the mall, but at least I've been honest and not mollycoddled and pandered around the JET community playing an obnoxious nice guy loner or jap-only-integrator etc etc. If people don't like what you do fair enough, but as a PA who once asked me not to post a joke I made about the beuracracy here: 'don't tell (his name here) 'cos he'll have the Kencho (Board Of Education) after me', to which he sent me the mail '...please don't try and take away from the good work (that's his exact quote...his good work, brilliant) I do here', and to go off telling everyone he can about his opinion of me in his role as PA...hmmm.


well, he wants to have it out with me, I have a lot of free time on my hands. Watch this space.

normal service resumed tomorrow...the vote Luis campaign is in full swing and clogging the inboxes of those all over the prefecture (that's another thing, people annoying about clogging inboxes. It's not as if e-mail is giant lumps of lint and shit and rice amalgamating into the corners of your living room where you need lube, a blowtorch and a shovel to get rid of it. Delete, just click delete, then get back to whatever it is you're doing.)

I may be feeling slightly annoyed today it's fair to say.

addendum

In addendum to Jacqueism #1 STD would like to point out that although he thinks bridges are awseome, he DOES NOT discriminate against ferries. I think it has been in keeping with his outlook on life, everything is fuckin eh'.

Jacques also made a startling discovery on Saturday when we were heading to the summit of APPI in a gondola. As the snow trickled through the ventilators Jacques wondered "You think it's snowing outside, too?". Much to his delight it was snowing outside and he went on to happy enjoy ret's boarding all day.