Ripped off

As the Bad Boy has been shaking his fist at all along, and as Kathryn has shown us recently, yes, Japan is pretty safe compared to a back alley of Cabramatta. No, it is not the safest place on earth.
The sad fact is, there will always be cunts, in every corner of the earth. You know the types, the low-life fucks who don’t have the balls to pull themselves together and make their own money so they decide to just leech and steal and take advantage of the rest of society, draining the system, little old ladies out of the savings under their mattress, and poor innocent bastards like myself. Well, almost, but not quite.

It may not happen in the conventional ‘pull a gun and give me your money bitch!’ way, but in this lovely passive aggressive little Japanese bubble we live in, there are plenty of ways to get ripped off, one quite close to my heart- credit card theft!
Imagine my surprise the day after we got back from Australia and my card was declined as I was buying lego for my son (OK, for me, but don’t tell anyone else)! I flushed a shade of pink at the sheer embarrassment until I realized that I had no reason to be, I hadn’t used the credit card once during our holiday, I was itching to get swiping again! As per the impeccable service in Japan, rather than a blank look and shrug of the shoulders as it would happen in Australia, the lady serving me apologized profusely and said in a loud enough voice that it was probably a problem with the system, not our card and would call the credit card company straight away to see what was wrong. Fuck I love the service in Japan.

It was at this point that Ryota just casually mentioned that our credit card company had tried to call him while we were away, but we still didn’t click that anything was really wrong until the lego lady gave the phone to Ryota and he went a shade of white and said “How much!?” and mouthed the word ‘fuck!!!’ to me.
Turns out that someone had gone on a bit of a spending spree on our card to the tune of, oh, not that much, only over a million fucking yen!!! In dollars it was $4000 a pop and they did that 3 times so about 12 grand later and they seemed satisfied. Now it just goes to show that being a poor bastard works in your favour though, the card company said that this kind of purchase was not within our ‘normal spending patter’ which is a nice was of saying that we don’t have enough cash to usually buy anything over about $100, but fuck I’ll take it, it means that they cancelled our card straight away, even though they couldn’t contact us.

Now I’m not sure if our thief was really thick, or really smart but they bought airline tickets, and I would assume that a $4000 ticket would be overseas… meaning they have to show their passport and could easily be caught, no??
But it was with ANA so maybe they just went on a round-Japan trip on a fake name and are lying on a beach in Okinawa right now not having spent a cent on the ticket to get there? Who knows, but that matter was out of our hands as the loser was ANA and they have to follow it up with the police, but still I’m not sure if Grandma handling my knickers, or some slimy cunt ripping off my credit card made me feel more violated. About even perhaps.

We think they might have hacked our whole computer as well because they charged the card the day after we left which is way too much of a coincidence for my liking, so email, password and virus security upgrades are all being seen to, pain in the arse but when fuckers like this are still wasting the good air that us normal folk breathe it really is a necessary evil.

Whoever did this was probably Japanese (the words of the credit card company, not me), but Ryota still assured me that it was probably a Chinese person living in Japan to rip off Japanese people…

And again, away from the nasty and ridiculous, for your viewing pleasure, some more photos!

Hands off my undies...

Bitch!

The bitch I’m referring to? An 83 year old Japanese woman who I happen to have been saddled with!

So we got back from Australia on Tuesday night and I have to say, it’s fucking shite to be home. This is the first trip where I really haven’t felt good to be back in Japan (although the heat thing still stands, I’ll take humid and sweaty over cold and dry skin any day!). Usually I feel a great sense of relief when I come back to Japan but not this time. All I felt was that I wanted to go back to Australia, the land of grass, beautiful beaches not crowded with dumb fucks who can’t swim sporting fucking floaties (Ooo harsh!), fish and chips, supermarkets that aren’t crowded with fish encrusted shit and… the list could go on.

I’ve realized that things are way more predictable in Japan and there is a part of me that likes this, but then I think more of me likes a bit of variety. It’s hard to explain, but for example, people. People in Japan are generally predictable in behavior: Normal until proven nice. Does that even make sense?? Of course I’m ruling out complete whack jobs like dog-fucker, but generally you know how people are going to act in Japan. Where as in Australia: No fucking idea. Good examples, I went in to a liquor store on the day of my friend’s wedding, (as you do at 9:30am) we all had hair done and my friend already had her veil on, so you think the store clerk may have said something, “congrats” perhaps or “good luck,” you know, something that would make us feel less weird for buying bottles of champers at brekky time with hair nets on! But no, solemn face, must have had her rags or something, not a word!
Then… on the other hand, the day we were leaving I went to a bakery to buy cakes for all my family as a little goodbye token, the guy behind the counter heard me speaking Japanese, got told our life story and not only wished us a safe trip home, but threw in 2 free meat pies and rounded the price down 2 dollars because I didn’t have any change. That would NEVER happen in Japan, not in a city anyway.

But back to my fucking in-laws. They have been a MAJOR contributing factor to the bitterness I’m feeling about being back in Japan. For a start, BIL and SIL met us at the airport, 2 people I really don’t like, so not a great start. They then informed us that they had no money for parking or petrol and that they hadn’t had any dinner, not that this is their fault, I was grateful for them coming to pick us up, but it just made me angry that they both have no job/life. Then, we get home and they are all just chattering away in Japanese and it just fucked me off. OK, totally MY hang-up here, we are in Japan after all, but after a week of English, they all just sounded horrible to me, I could see the English Ash had picked up just draining away. The dog-fucker then started speaking fucking awful English to him when I mentioned how sad I was he was going to forget the English he’d learned until I snapped at her to not bother, I didn’t want him learning that type of pronunciation.
MIL was nowhere to be seen, we assumed she was still at work, until the next day when we went to go shopping and discovered that she was still not home and had taken our car (her air-con is broken). Great, shopping in the 30 degree heat with no air-con because MIL claimed she was working but I think she’s actually shagging. I like MIL but I really wish she would think about this kind of shit more, Ash didn't sleep at all because he was too hot. She’s still not back after 3 days away and I’m getting fucking pissed off as I want to do a Costco run and her phone has no battery. Also just discovered that even if I were to brave the car with no air-con, BIL or SIL (can’t be bothered to check which one isn’t sleeping) has fucked off in that car so can’t go anywhere anyway. Mother-fuckers!!!!

And finally, Grandma. Oh Grandma, I feel sorry for her in a way, while her 2 youngest grand-children are sleeping or wanking off their dog or whatever, she is sweating like a bastard putting out all their washing. It fucking disgusts me how much she still does around their house while those 2 lazy cunts waste the air they breathe, but it occurred to me that perhaps doing the washing is what keeps the old bird going, she seems to like doing it! Why do I know this? Because she meddled with my washing while I was away!
OK, I say meddled, she actually did a big load for me, which was nice. I thanked her and admittedly, it was a big help, we’d accumulated a heap of dirty washing just before we left including Ash’s kindy sheets, so even though she didn’t ask me if I wanted it doing or anything, I was happy.
Emphasis on the word ‘was.’ When I discovered the washing on the sofa I was pleased, yet it felt kind of weird that Grandma had been handling my undies and stuff… Then, I go upstairs to discover that my washing lines on the veranda have ever so slightly been shuffled around a bit, just a little mind you, but enough so that those of us that don’t resemble hobbits smack their head on the pole… The mysterious appearance of foreign pegs… And finally, my washing powder had been changed.. Err… what the fuck? Grandma wasn’t shy in telling me that I had in fact been doing everything wrong in the washing department and she had taken the liberty of making all the necessary changes. Well thanks Grandma, but fuck you! I really don’t need another fucking busy body criticizing my house keeping efforts or lack thereof.

Fuck knows I get enough of that from her Grandson!

On a happier note… here are some lovely photos from my lovely trip home!

Greeting and salutations!

Yes! It's the obligatory post from Australia!

We arrived here on Wednesday and since then I've managed to eat:

Hungry Jacks (twice)
Chinese (Aussie style- no gyoza- boo!)
McDonalds
Hogs breath
Fish and chips
And a whole lot of other bad crap

It really is no wonder most people here are walking heart attacks, I love it!

Things have been quite good, although Ryota has managed to piss me off quite frequently because he feels 'left out of conversations' or 'has to spend awkward silences with my family'. Whinge, whinge fucking whinge, welcome to my life 51 weeks of the cunting year you big pussy!

Ash is having a blast with things like real grass and space to move and shit.

I miss Japanese customer service, warmed toilet seats and store opening hours.

It is FUCKING freezing, give me humid Japanese summers over this any day, hating it!

Right, wedding is tomorrow so I best go get my beauty sleep if I am to be a good bridesmaid with no bags under her eyes, let's just hope the dress still fits...

Woah! Boobs!

Just call me the absent blogger!

I could make loads of excuses as to why I've been missing in action, like;

*A crazy work schedule.
*Getting ready for my trip home *does a ridiculously happy dance*
*Countless hours spent in the toilet sobbing due to twat of a husband.
*It's too bastard hot to be arsed typing.
*Cramming in extra lessons in to make up for my holiday...

But let's be honest, it's pretty much just because I'm lazy!

I've lost my blogging mojo a bit so may have to make September a one a day blog fest to get me back in the rythm...

I did have one funny experience the other day, I got a booby fitting for the first time in Japan! To be honest, I hate booby fittings in any country, let's face it, being crammed in to a tiny cubicle and stripping off for a lady to measure and push and pull your boobies in to bras is not the best thing in the world. Well, if I was a lesbian and the sales girl was hot... OK, sidetracking!

I'd attempted to pluck up the courage to get a fitting when I was in Osaka the week before but I was just with Ryota and men are useless at normal shopping, let alone lady bits shopping. Still, we wandered in to the lingerie shop, bewildered by the sea of frilly bras, lacy panties and all the contraptions that came with them. All I knew is that I wanted to know my correct size (so I could just go buy cheaper bras on the Internet) and I wanted to buy one good, supportive, comfy, push-up bra that would make my saggy, sad little fried eggs look like Pamela Anderson had a shit rack. OK, not quite, but if I am to be a bridesmaid, I want perky boobies at least! I hesitantly approached the sales girl and instantly named her "bunny girl" in my head.
She was the typical J sales girl, young, "cute" in the Japanese way, and with lots of accessories and big hair. I called her bunny girl because her big hair was arranged in a way that made her look like she had two ears and she also had buck teeth. Harsh but true people! I almost expected a fluffy little tail when she turned around! So I approached bunny girl and told her I needed a push-up bra, they really arent that hard to find in Japan seeing as though J-girls have generally pretty small boobs, but just in case she thought I wanted to minimise or something. I was too embarrassed to ask for a fitting so Ryota was like, "She doesn't know her size, can you measure her?" straight up, no hesitation. She bounced off to get her tape measure and invited me in to the torture chamber fitting room, I was sweating profusely which didn't help either, I then had a mini panic attack that she'd put one of her paws on a stray trickle of sweat!
But due to her incompetence it actually wasn' that bad, for one I didn't have to get naked, she did it over my clothes, which is why she was so wrong with her measurements. After much pulling of measuring tape and squishing of boob, she proudly announced through her bunny buck teeth: "75-F desu!"

Errr... Hold the phone bunny-chan, I wasn't even close to an F cup when I was fatter, what the fuck!?

I was pissed off with how off the mark she was, and then she didn't even bother to go get me any bras to try, so no sales bunny of the month for her. Still, I was uncomfortable with the situation anyway and was kind of relieved to get out of there.
I then asked MIL if she knew any good shops where I could get a fitting and we ended up going the next afternoon to the local shopping mall where my nightmare visions were actually put to rest!

I was reluctant again but my MIL is very pushy and told me not to be so stupid, the staff were trained to do booby fittings and I had nothing to be embarrassed about, and rightly so. So I manned the fuck up and approached a sales lady, probably in her late 30's if i had to guess. The late 30's bracket is the most comfortable for me, may be a working mother/wife so has something in common with me but not old enough to be my mother so not intimidating. She was perfect! Well, except she had really bad breathe, but I'll forgive her for that.
She also took my measurements over my clothes but prodded and pushed at my bra and adjusted her measurements accordingly and came to the conclusion I was in fact closer to a 75-C or D. Now that sounds more like it!
She brought me a mountain of bras to try on, telling me the ones she thought were best for me to try first, then amazingly, turned the tiny cubicle in to a spacious haven by pulling a secret curtain out and opening a hidden door. Not sure how it all worked but I liked it! She left me alone as I tried the first bra on and then asked if she could come in, when she did I noticed she had little white gloves on, I thought it may have been to handle the expensive bras but I think it was more for the hands-on booby touching that was to take place. She gave a quick "Shittsureishimaaasu!" ("Excuse me {for the manhandling of your tits that is about to take place}) and she was in there! Explaining how I needed to bend over so all my boobage spilled in to the cups, then got her hands in the pushing my bust in to the bra so the full effects could be seen, then one last push of the little bits of boob that tend to spill out near the arm pit and I was perky! It was quite amazing actually, the bra fit perfectly and we went through the same motions for all the others too.

A slinky set, practical bra and $150 later and I was out of there feeling very confident seeing as though I 'd just been groped by a small Japanese lady for 20 minutes!

Thank you so much GW!

DING! DING! DING!

Annnnnndddddd, we have a winner ladies and gentleman!!!

For almost as long as I’ve been blogging, I’ve always said I’m a teeny bit jealous of people with haters, it means you’ve really made it, and now, excuse me while a wipe a little tear of sheer pride away, I have one!!

Since your buddy Chrissy the "badboy" has blocked me (but can't get me off of his mind, such as it is), I thought I'd address your comment here in your charming little blog.

Corrine: You note that I am "ageing" (I am told by the google that spelling is British. I'm used to seeing "aging").

Anyway: Do you imagine that dull-witted Ocker harpies don't age?

And dearie: Now that I've seen you, I'll be looking for you for that little discussion, in which you share your deep insights on Japanese business, as you've gather from your stint at the Happy Flower English Academy or whatever the fuck it was: After all, my physical well being depends on it!

And I'm just loving your prose style! You are "sure" that someone is "obviously" something? Literary gold!

And what's this with you and ChrissyB the Batboy imagining that a sane individual would want to seek either of you out for in-person interaction? It's a safe bet that most everyone that has to deal with you IRL looks about for a way out of it
before hand.

I think getting knocked up and married was the best career move you've ever made. But the poor guy: hope your hubby has found someone to fuck who isn't ridiculous!

Be sure to stay fucking stupid!

Cheers,
Semiautodidact

It’s all I could ever have asked for in a hater and more! I think the bare essential credential is that the hater is clearly a douche, and my little trolly definitely fits that description, with the added bonus of being an obnoxious grammar Nazi who then makes grammar mistakes himself (see: Incorrect spelling of my name, “as you’ve gather from your stint at the Happy Flower English Academy,” gross overuse of colons, etc.) You might need a stint at Happy Flower English academy yourself darling!

Now there’s no need to respond to this comment and considering it's author is old enough to be my father I feel someone needs to be the adult in this relationaship, and I’m honestly just so giddy that I too have joined the ‘I have a troll!’ club that I’m clearly too excited to reply to everything, although I will say this, anyone who questions British English simply because they haven’t crawled out of their little cocoon long enough really deserves a smack over the head with an Oxford dictionary, don’t you think!?
And you know, he may be on to something about Ryota finding someone who "isn't ridiculous" to fuck, although last time I checked the level of ridiculousness didn't have much to do with a good shag, perhaps my sweet little hater has never had such an experience and that's why he's a bit off, no?




I had a fantastic weekend, complete with SIL having an argument with an Army dude, the beach and competitive running for instant marriage improvement, so will try and write it up tomorrow if I get a minute.