I used a (Japanese) Q-tip to clean my teeth. Wonder why that guy gave me a funny look. How was I supposed to know?

thinking, staying up late and sleeping even later, Japanese Big Macs (natto, sauce, mustard, gohan, raw egg, onion, daikan, etc), copious consumption of ice cream bars and yogurt, choco corn puffs, new vocabulary words, peanuts and raisins in the beginning. Ramen (cliché) and Yaki Soba. Naps. My keitai denwa. Hiragana c-mails. Wondering about the wonder years. Yoyogi Koen. TV programs and videos I don’t understand but love, watch religiously. Walking 30 minutes to the train station/home to save money. The grocery store near my house. Roppongi, Motown, and Moet. Tons of ideas but no action. Burnable versus non-burnable. Four forks in the road. Isolation. Waiting for Takako. Controlling my emotions. Knowing when to stop. Not stopping. People not sitting next to me on a packed train. Viewing Americans from afar. Being a foreigner. Classic.

I’ve received quite a few requests, predominantly from female viewers*, to share some additional, more personal information about myself. Overwhelmingly, I was asked, “What’s your type?”. Thus I begin the “My Lady” series**, one post at a time.
 
First, My Lady should finish every grain of rice in her bowl.

*Of course I haven’t received so much as a Spam, but it’s nice to think that I have curious and beautiful female fans adoring me from afar.

** Bear in mind that this is meant to be humorous. In truth, I only like two types of women: domestic and imported.

Saw this while reading some random obituaries online.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.
I miss you, and I will always love you.
Forever yours,
Your Wife”

There are several reasons why a young (single and looking) lady should not purchase a dog. I may list them all in the future, but for now it’s best to focus on the most important one:

No matter how cute she and the dog are in those matching outfits, that handbag (o’ shit) is not attractive.

Okay, one more:
It’s not romantic to run your fingers through a girl’s hair and turn up a hand full of fleas.

I had my first Thanksgiving dinner when I was 19. I had my first Christmas dinner when I was 26…in Japan.

When the police in Japan rush a house, do they take their shoes off after knocking down the door?

Friend: Jesse, I thought you were supposed to go to India?

Me: Oh yeah, I was…but then I spent my one month’s budget in one night partying in Tokyo. That Moet will get cha every time.

Simon Cowell said it best (paraphrasing): “always remember that everyone has a sign on their forehead saying, ‘make me feel important’”. Well, I don’t much like pandering, so I’ve had a few funny encounters here in Tokyo.
 
For example, when you tell me the Company you work FOR or the University you attended and I say, “wakaranai” (I don’t know), please don’t be offended. It just means that you guys aren’t big enough for this ex-Big 4 CPA, too many degrees in-hand to mention, Buckeye Alumni to know about. Seriously, these types are perplexing. Am I supposed to care about where you PAID to go to school? You and the millions of people that came before, and will come after you? Am I supposed to jump up and down because you’re getting paid well to toil for 15 hours a day at a company that was around before your parent’s were sperm?

I don’t go around telling people how “we” (OSU) are the #1 football team in the world, because I never lifted a weight or made any effort beyond cracking a beer and turning on the TV to get the team to that position.
 
Like those people who work in the luxury brand stores that give me awkward looks because I’m rockin’ jeans and a hoodie. I just want to say, “Oh, are you Louis? Gucci? Oh, I see…just an employee.” But as soon as I pull out the Black Card*, you know what it is - Service, baby!!!

You want to impress me? Rub my feet and clip my toenails…blindfolded.

*I used a Sharpie to color my Washington Mutual debit card black.

These two take First Team, All-City honors:

1. Girls in super-minis despite the frigid temperatures

2. Autumn colors hanging around like that friend with low self-esteem (pictures soon)

Pretty J Girl: You poo poo, right?

Me: No comment.

Pretty J Girl: You love no comment.

I’m not sure about you because we’ve never been in the same stall, but I really used to overdo it on the toilet paper. I was always grabbing a big handful. You know, for some cushion, or should I say barrier between the hand and the uh…yeah.

But recently, I’m realizing that all that padding is…just fluff. It’s not required. I’m going minimalist style.

Hug a tree, but be careful shaking my hand…

I left out mention of the homeless men that live in Yoyogi. In fact, that are an essential part of the atmosphere and of my Tokyo experience. As I was exiting the park a few days ago, feeling emotionally and financially broke…Okay, wait. I have to rewind a bit.

I’d been travelling in SE Asia, where it is damn hot, for the past four months. When I returned to Japan, I was still in flip-flop and khaki shorts mode. My winter coat was still at Big Worm’s in the States, so I planned to manage the cold weather here Ohio style (read t-shirt and hairy arms). Thankfully, Takako’s Dad came to my rescue and gave me a coat.

The coat has a “Wonda” brand coffee patch on the left chest. For those of you who don’t know, “Wonda” is a pretty famous brand here in Japan. Tiger Woods does advertisements for them. He says, “WONDA-ful”. LOL. Also, in case you don’t know, the people here in Tokyo are super brand conscious. So, everywhere I go, even when meeting friends or friends of friends, I always catch people peepin’ my brand. And sometimes they give me the shit face. But I think it’s gangster, so I’m rockin’ it…even in my sleep.

So back to the park story. Man, I was dejected. I had already learned the word for a person without a job - “putaro”, and I was just studying the word for poor - “binbou”. Great, now I can describe my current status in two languages. Just imagine me in reject mode (think both hands in my pockets, head down, kicking rocks, etc.). I walked out of the park, and you’ll never believe who greets me in the exact same “WONDA” coat. That’s right…a homeless guy from Yoyogi.

It’s not Tiger Woods ya’ll, but it’s all good ya’ll

ful-of grace,

The Ambassador

Well, recently it has been. Everyday I’ve been taking an afternoon “bura bura” (stroll) in Yoyogi Koen. Mixing it up with the bored housewives and their fashionably styled dogs. Watching the over stressed salaryman seek sanctuary in the shade of “koyo” (autumn colors), while the crows and “kamo” (ducks) vie for waterspace in the pond. And the “aibiki” (meetings between secret lovers) between old(er) folks somehow manage to remind me of “seishun” (my younger years). All to the soundtrack of novice musicians pounding drums, tooting their horns, or blowing in an oversized sea shell. Some “Riccccoooooola” style joints.

Since your not here to get down with me, I hope you can feel this bi-lingual blast.

-The Ambassador 

I don’t have regrets, just really good stories to tell* millionares at cocktail parties.

-Me

*while serving them champagne

Rocky who? I ate six eggs today.

-Me

Even birds get shat on.

-Me

The person replies in English. So I confirm in Japanese.

I will not pay 1050 Yen to talk to someone from the US Embassy in Tokyo for 15 minutes. It’s not my style.

and then ya die.