Deep throat issues

Because who doesn't love a bit of gross inflamed tonsil action on a Tuesday arvo!?

As you can clearly see from the inside of my mouth I have tonsillitis. Again motherfuckers! I seem to get this shit every month, and I don't even kiss random boys anymore, cheated!

It's only the right side too, which is weird, I went to the doc today and he actually called his colleagues over to look at my fucking huge right tonsil. I have to go to the city hospital on Thursday to see about getting the bastards out. Sooooo looking forward to that... On the plus side I can kill two old birds with one stone and visit Grandma at the same time who is in to get her cataracts operated on. What fun conversation that will bring I'm sure...

One good thing about having to work and drag my arse to the doctors today was that I stumbled upon a random dance school that I never knew was there, I love dancing and have wanted to take lessons for ages so I went and talked to the teacher who was just so delighted that a foreigner had graced her school, but I think she thought I was a way better dancer than I was letting on, when in truth I'm absolute rubbish! Meh, she'll get the picture when I'm stumbling around like an idiot with two left feet on Saturday.

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Inspired by other bloggers who are far less lazy than me I have decided to actually respond to all comments left.

If you ask me a question, I shall reply...

If you write something nice, I shall be forever in your debt and write equally nice things back...

If you write something mean, I shall hunt you down and beat you to a bloody pulp with my brass knuckles... Oh wait, I think that's someone else...

But seriously, I've never had a whack job make a horrible comment here, I feel quite left out!

OK, I have to go and talk with my favourite army student despite swallowing feeling like a hot poker is stabbing the back of my tonsils... No blow job jokes either, it hurts man!

Mess-up mothering Monday

This could very well become a regular spot, I fuck up enough as a mother, but this weekend was particularly spectacular in the psychological damage I’m no doubt causing my son!

Mothering fuck-up #1- Teaching my son the game where you hold your breath when driving through a tunnel. Of course in my day and in my town, tunnels weren’t so bastard long! So after getting a bit dizzy myself and watching his face turn blue before bursting out in giggles, I realized that oxygen deprivation in game form is probably not the best education. Still, passes the time on long drives…

Mothering fuck-up #2- Leaving my slumbering babe in the car while I ducked in to tsutaya for a movie run. I know, I know, only irresponsible junkie types (or Japanese mothers) do that sort of shit. I have often seen kids alone in cars while mummy does her shopping and thinking how much I wanted to slap the mother, but it was pissing down rain, and he’d JUST fallen asleep, and I mean deep asleep as I pulled in to tsutaya. Plus it wasn’t hot or anything but as I searched for the movies I wanted the seconds seemed to be ticking in my ears as visions of cars slamming in to mine while Ash was trapped kept flashing in to my head. But as I sprinted back to my car I was relieved and am now happy to report that he was still snoring loudly and no cars were on fire in the vicinity.

Ryota and I spent the weekend fighting, spoke way too soon with the good behavior, must write those stories of twatism up when I have time. I shall leave you with reason #1 to have kids, there really aren’t that many, but they make it worth it when they do occasionally happen, until you are so distracted by shit that the driver is tickling and passenger is filming and you don’t notice the big arse fucking truck you’re about to slam in to... We survived anyway.

Foreign men.

Foreign men in Japan have a notorious reputation for being absolute dickwads. There’s no getting around it, and from personal experience I’d say about 70% of the male foreign population I’ve come in to contact with have been pretty much that, or there is still a glimpse of the OK person they used to be, but in the land of pussy-houdai their head and ego have taken over their personalities to a point of no return. Saying that, a few of the closest foreign friends I’ve had have been blokes, but that has been the way my whole life, so maybe nothing to do with Japan. Since I’ve been married though, there hasn’t been that much opportunity for male foreign friends, so pretty much the only contact I have is with one guy I work with at the kindy and random gaijin I run into.

Now every foreigner who lives in Japan knows the awkward dilemma of what to do when you come in close contact with another gaijin. “Do I say hello? I don’t want to look all eager… But it doesn’t hurt to be friendly right..?” Questions like this often flash through my tiny little brain as I contemplate whether to ignore the foreign elephant in my presence, acknowledge it, or actually choose to interact with it. If it’s a foreign mummy, I’ll pretty much always say hello, because, you know, we have an equal respect for each other. When it comes to foreign Daddies, I find them to be very standoff-ish, like they’ve been caught out and can’t get away from you fast enough, I’m not really sure why, so I usually ignore the fucktard Daddies. If it’s a foreign woman alone, it’s tough, if they look friendly enough maybe I’ll say hi, but then, I have to think about the look on my face, Do I look friendly? Or like I wouldn’t be approachable…? It’s all a very complicated process! But when it comes to foreign men, they pretty much always ignore me, again it’s like they’ve been caught out impersonating a cool, hot guy but as we all know, the foreign woman is Charisma man’s kryptonite and will take him down if she discovers what kind of shit web he has been spinning in order to date hot Japanese women.

So after a while and a few crushes on foreign guys, I gave up. “Fuck em’!” pretty much became my philosophy on the whole matter. Until recently when I have come in to (not close enough for my liking) contact with 2, not 1, but 2(!) fuckable, friendly foreign men! Why aren’t you all like this?
The first guy I met when I was running, so highly sweaty and embarrassing, but I was jogging along this really long path and in the distance I saw what I thought might be a gaijin but sometimes your mind plays tricks on you, so I tried not to look too hard until he was close enough. Surely, when we were within eye contact range, he had a smile on his face, and it wasn’t a “I’m a fucking nutter” smile, or a “I want to sell you some religion!” smile, it seemed to be a genuine smile, and he was hot as well, almost unheard of!!! Of course I had ear phones in and I only slowed my jog to say a quick hello, but we got a quick pass by conversation in to establish he worked at the Mitsubishi factory (doing English type stuff I presume) near where I run. I will definitely be on the lookout for Mitsubishi man whenever I run from now on.

The second was kind of a bizarre meeting, I usually take Ash to kindy on my bicycle and go down a big arse hill, at the bottom of the hill they are building new houses at the moment and I always have a bit of a squiz to see if I can spot any hot construction dudes (I have a total soft spot for construction workers IN JAPAN, they seem to be old and fat in any other country). As I was scanning for macho man talent, a bare chest caught my attention, not for any other reason except J-guys usually never take their shirts off, it’s really not a thing you see much of. And as I suspected, when construction man turned around, he wasn’t Japanese! He looked a fair bit older and had the sexy Latino feeling to him so I thought he might be Brazilian. Just as I was drooling over him, my tyre busted on my bike (see whiney post) sending me in to a bit of a tailspin (literally). It was the total opposite of graceful and I made some sort of strange squealing noise like a small pig being slaughtered, I also had the misfortune of wearing a skirt that day so I’m sure my bright pink knickers were flashed quite freely to all the construction men who had looked over. A few of the guys closest to me wandered over and with a bit of a giggle still on their and lips informed me my bike was in fact, fucked. Gee thanks! The spokes of my wheel all over the place and my knicker flashing stack hadn’t indicated that at all!

Shirtless sex pot had somehow put a shirt on and had come over to look for any other spokes that had come off my bike and as I said thank you to the other useless dicks I looked at him and said “Obrigado…かな。。。” I didn’t want to just assume he spoke Portuguese but fortunately I was right, unfortunately he then started babbling in Portuguese to which I just said “Ahhhh, sorry!” like a big knob. (Note to self: Learn Portuguese). He gave me a sexy smile anyway and I was on my way. I’ve seen him a few days this week and always say hello so my man candy levels are up, and my faith in foreign men has been a teeny tiny little bit restored! Of course the recent troop of male Japan bloggers are also pretty cool, but you never really can tell someone’s level of dickhead until you actually meet them.

On a slightly related note, Ryota has been quite the model husband lately! Last weekend he got up before me, put a load of washing on, (seriously probably the first time ever seeing as though he used fabric softener instead of washing power, but it’s the thought that counts!) tidied up a bit and went and got McDonalds breakfast for us all so I wouldn’t have to slave over a hot toaster! My initial reaction was suspicion and unlike most women who might assume this sudden change in behavior means cheating, I suspect there will be some surfing related consequence, a new board/wetsuit, a trip away or something of that nature. Or who knows, maybe he is shagging some slapper, because his shagging techniques have totally improved too! I was dumbfounded last night when he actually tried to kiss me, I was so confused I did the whole head wobble thing and we ended up just cracking our foreheads and giggling but again, solid effort from the Ryo-chan meister! OK, enough of my sex life, I have to teach Junior high school kids and I don’t want to be thinking sexy thoughts for that.

Happy weekend all!

Paranoia...

I’m thinking I smoked too much weed in high school because lately, I have this horrible sensation that I’m going to die. And yes, thank you, I know we’re all going to die some time just in case some smart arse would like to point that out (you know who you are!), but I mean die young. I can’t explain the feeling that well but it will be when I’m riding my bicycle and this image flashes over my eyes of a car coming out of a side street and hits me, and it’s so real that I actually squeeze on the brakes and go all wobbly! Or the other week I was driving home in heavy rain and I just kept imaging a car coming from the other side of the road and smashing in to me. Am I going insane?!

It may also have been fuelled by the fact that I was talking about palm reading with a student and she examined my hand and was all “Ohh, Corinne sensei, you have short line of life!!” and I was all “Ohhh, well, fuck then…”
If I died now I can’t say I’d have any regrets but you know, not quite ready to kick the bucket yet!

Palm readers, yoroshiku!




Or maybe this irrational fear is just the ghosts of my childhood coming back to haunt me. I was an incredibly nervous child. Like, I didn’t take any risks, at a really young age. I blame my parents and their constant fights that lasted all night while I lied in bed trying my hardest to block out the screaming, banging and name-calling that went on for hours. I would wake up tired and emotionally drained and I’m sure it well and truly fucked me up. I remember being in the first grade and staying up worrying about high school and what it would be like. In first grade! This little kid with big worry creases in her forehead, chewing on her teddy Bear's ear worrying that there’d be too much homework and I’d get lost in the halls. Damn, now I think about it there were all kinds of incidents indicating that I was a tad mental! I cried once for fear of being locked in a clothing store that was getting ready to shut because my mum was still getting stuff from the shelves when they pulled the shutters half-way down. I wet my pants in the 2nd grade in front of every fucker because I was having a stress attack about forgetting my assignment. You get the picture.

Along with the nervousness and fear was the fact that I never took any risks. Roller coasters- not a fucking chance (only the one time my sister bribed me with hot macadamia nuts, I’d do pretty much anything for that shit!), all theme park related fun was too risky for me, I was like a fucked up 50 year old stuck in a child’s body! I can honestly thank Japan for getting me over that though, or maybe it was getting out of my parent’s house…hmmmmm. “There's enough material there for an entire conference.” (Gold star to anyone who knows where that quote is from) Whichever it was, I managed to turn my nervous fears around the day I stepped on to the plane, and I was fucking terrified, I had the runs the whole way on the plane here, I was so insanely scared that I almost became numb and convinced myself that I could come back home if I wanted to. And technically I could have, but really I was forced to stay, at least for a bit. And after I got a taste of the fear, I was hungry for more. It was all bungee jumping and tattoos from then on, I was living on the edge, and I liked it! Not a dollar spent in therapy and all I had to do was grab the scary feeling by the balls and say “fuck it, I’m doing it!” the adrenalin (and some alcohol) does the rest.

So I think I need some thrill seeking, this is why I’ve been all paranoid about death lately, it’s been way too long since I’ve done something that would classify as 'on the edge'. I hadn’t even realized I’d been playing it so safe until the other night when I was teaching a Junior high school kid, who, don’t get me wrong, is a lovely boy. He studies hard and plays badminton and wrote me a beautiful New Year card that said he wanted to try hard to speak English this year, but he’s like every other robotic JHS kid here, boring. Boring people annoy me because it’s just so hard to make conversation with. I can forgive this in kids, the Japanese school system and little life experience make it almost impossible for them to go any other way and hopefully by giving them the freedom to express their opinion and actually think outside the “This is a pen” box when they talk to me, they’ll get better, but in adults, it really fucking pisses me off. Take for example the question: “What do you do for fun?” Valid question, if you answer it with “I like sleeping.” I will have images of smacking you in the head with a blunt object so you can be sleeping for a very long time. Of course this isn’t a realistic reaction, so I point out that I can’t go anywhere with that answer, plus sleeping is not a hobby, it’s a basic function, give me something, anything else! Anyway, the point I’m getting to, is this JHS kid has to ask me at least 3 questions at the start of every lesson and the other night he asked me “Where did you go last year?” And I thought about it…. And I realized I didn’t go anywhere. So I had to answer with “Ummm I went to Osaka…” In this little meek voice because I was actually thinking, ‘Fuck me dead I’ve become one of the boring cunts I fantasise about whacking in the head!’ OK, so I had valid excuses of an infant and new business, but it shouldn’t matter, I didn’t even go on a trip anywhere in Japan! So I have vowed that before the year is out, I will do something slightly risky, something that is pure fun and I will go on a trip overseas and a trip somewhere in Japan.

Because who knows, that mashed up life line could end tomorrow, and I’ll be fucked if I have to tell St. Peter that I was a boring cunt, he’ll never let me in to heaven!

Bugger!

So, one of the best Japan bloggers invites me to his slammin' party, all his fantabulous readers click on over... Expecting 'crocodile sushi' content and are met with... A whinging excuse for a post including suicide and me moaning about... a bicycle! (see below, actually don't, it's really depressing...)

So to get that tom-fuckery off the top of my blog thought I'd write this. If you haven't been over to Loco's blog, and I can't see how you wouldn't have already, get there, right now! Not only is this guy funny/smart/deep/sexy/groovy/interesting, he's also an amazing writer with some amazing stuff about his experiences in Japan and all sorts of other topics, he really is one of the Kings of J-blogs and I'm honored he asked me to join the party. Thanks Loco!

We had dog-fucker's birthday party last night so when I get a chance I'll post that story plus by popular demand, some pictures of the star herself, in all her cuntish glory!

I'll leave you with a photo of me that shows me when I'm happiest: On a Sunday, drinking beer in the afternoon!

So you had a bad day...

I remember listening to that song once when I'd been drinking for over 24 hours straight and thinking I wanted to kill myself.

Lovely!

Not quite that bad today, but definitely getting there.

It started with my bike tyre shitting itself, I blame my chubby son because the back wheel lost about 4 spokes when his lard arse plus my even lardier (word?) arse were riding to kindy. To a busy mum living in the semi-iinaka, her bike is her chariot, she needs it to do basically anything! So I walked home, sweat dripping down on to my shirt, and realised it wasn't a do-it-yourself fixing job just in time to dash off for my 9am lesson.
Lesson done and I walked the cunting bike to the nearest bike fixing shop, lady told me they would love to fix it but the spokes they had were the wrong size. Zannen. Fucking zannen indeed. Not only were the spokes fucked but the tyre was squished against the rim making it incredibly difficult to push! So, I walked the 20 minutes to the place where I brought the bike, I hate going there because the staff are always very unhelpful, but at least I knew they'd have the right sized spokes. Get there. Fucking closed!!! Opens at 11am. 11 cunting a mother-fucking m, what are the lazy bastards doing until 11am!? So I trudged back to another bike fixing store which I thought about going to in the first place but it's expensive so I try and avoid it and he told me he could do it but it would take a while. So I went and got my groceries and came back, stood there contemplating running home and getting shit done before I had to go and work at a local kindy but then got so indecisive about whether going home or waiting was the most time effective and just ended up waiting. Bike finally done, highway robbery complete and rode home with a few minutes to spare to grab my shit and get to the kindy.

Kindy lessons were fine, kids adorable. All good. day improving! Or so I thought...
Get back to my bike outside the kindy, and... where is the cunting key...? I thought it was in my pocket but no matter how many times I shoved my hands in there praying for it to magically appear, wasn't there. Sweat pouring for the umpteenth time I started to panic as next lesson at the school was only 30 minutes away (and I have OCD when it comes to being late). Finally I decide to check one last time before going back and searching the kindy (of 650 kids- fucking huuuuge, would have been impossible to find!) and one good thing about today, that little gleaming key was shoved in a side pocket. Fuck I'm dopey at times!

Get back home to de-sweat and re-deodorise and I check my phone to see 5 missed calls from an unknown number and dog fucker and think 'why the fuck is she calling me??' so go over to see and apparently, docile cunt that I am, had left the keys in the school door! What the fuck is wrong with me today?! Like what kind of idiot does that!? I think I might have been better off drunk and suicidal than I was today! Anyway, potential student came to ask about lessons and noticed the keys in the door, she went and got the lady who lives next to the school and the newspaper people from the other side and they knew where our house was (gotta love semi-iinaka sometimes) so dropped the keys over to dog fucker.

I immediately did a cookie run and bowed until I was sweating on the toes of my shoes to next door obachan (who ended up giving me onions in return, wtf?!) and newspaper people, then called the (extremely nice) student to apologise and schedule when I could start charging to speak English with her once a week, fuck best get cookies for her too when she comes on Monday...

Taught another lesson and went to get Ash, on the way home we bumped in to a Grandma and her little boy who had a big arse toy car that you can ride in and offered it to Ash. This was lovely but Ash DID NOT want to get out of it. I had another lesson to teach in 20 minutes, and again my stress levels were rising at the thought of being late, finally dragged him literally kicking and screaming out of the damn thing and left him with Grandma, but he was being a clingy little fucker and crying whenever I tried to leave. (reason number 459686700000 not to have kids).

Needless to say my nerves are shot, I feel sweaty and incredibly stupid, haven't eaten anything today and will possibly throw up on the kid due to arrive in 5 minutes.

Happy fucking Friday! Soooooo having a drink tonight!

Awkward...

Yesterday marked one year that my school has been open. Thank the lord for not going bankrupt, wooooo!
I've learnt a LOT in the past year: About business, about Japanese marketing and how cute sells, about speaking Japanese, about how annoying my in-laws really can be, about myself, about teaching, about English, about juggling time and a whole lot of other crap that won't fit in my tiny brain so is sitting on standby in my left ear, ready to be fed in over the next few years!
I've had a truly great year, Ryota got a new (better) job, the school has never been in debt and is now making enough to give me a healthy salary. So a big FUCK YEAH! on that front!
I felt that I needed to celebrate with cake and made a cracker of a fresh cream and strawberry sponge yesterday in honour of the occasion. I've included pictures for all you closet Betty Crocker lovers!

I like baking, and I'm not all that bad at it, but the problem with being good at baking, is when you make something that gives you an instant orgasm when you bite in to it, is that you end up eating way too much of it yourself. Add spoon/beater/bowl licking and you have way too many calories that do not coincide with my plans to be super fit for my BFF's wedding and the skimpy bridesmaid dress that goes with it in August. So usually when I make sweets, I take them over to the in-laws and share them, not because I'm nice, just because I don't want to get too fat!!

So yesterday I toddled over with my cake which looks exactly like a Birthday cake, and dog-fucker (who we still haven't really talked to since the Hokka ben incident) got all excited, not because the dog had a hard-on, but because she thought I'd made the cake for her. Ooops... I'd completely forgotten her birthday is tomorrow because, well, I really don't care!

She peered at it and said "Ehhhhh!? Did you make me a cake!?" And before it got too awkward or my instincts to lie kicked in I said "Ummmm, actually it's for the school, your birthday isn't till Friday!"

This fucks me right over as now I have to make a cunting cake for her tomorrow! Maybe I'll just save a piece of the school cake and give it to her...

It also leaves me with the dilemma as to what to get her. I don't really like her, but I'm like the birthday queen around here and seeing as though I'm the only one who makes a big deal about them always make a point to get everyone presents. (Plus, let's face it, I get loads of loot come my birthday in November)

I have no idea what to get her, I looked for a copy of the book, "How to stop fucking your dog and be a normal member of society" but they were all out... Any suggestions?!